^v^lOSANCflfXy.  ^^^lllBRARYOr  ^^^MIBBARYO/: 


i^TfcS  f  i!!T  f  f  uj; 


m\  vm  is5 


iU!7f   Ii-=^l  ilJ(7l  il^ 


WE  UNIVERJ//i.        ^lOSANCElfj]^, 


jr?*    2^  :t 


.ii]DNVSov<^'      '^^/ia3AiNiiit\v^       ''-^omuw^     ^-^omim^       ^ifiUDNvsr 


'I  II 


.KlOSANGEli;r.,> 


■<rjijoNvsoi^      ^Aa3AiNn3WV^       '^OAavaaiH'^ 


NtUBRARYO/r         ^tUBRARY<7/^  ^^WE■UNIVERJ•/A  ^^tllBRAf! 


o  ,  ' 


5?    A- 


^t-LIBRARYO/;^       ^^^^t•LIBRARYQc^ 


^\W[UNIVEBS/4 


AOFCAllfO%,        <»;0FCAIIF0% 


•^OAavaan-^- 


^OFCALIfOff^.       ^OFCAllFOft) 


I'S/A 


^lOi 


^(?A!ivaaii-i>^'"'      ■^oxmmvis' 


Hvo-      -^OAavaaiiiv^^ 


i(k.        ^^^liltiRAkY•6'/•. 

"^  5  1 


,^y\[■lJNiVER% 


M  l|-"5      §j  ^^5 


^^WEUNIVER% 


J-3y  ■■JJIJJ.M'NUl^  ••</Jtid,M!'<IIJVA>- 


AiNn]k\v^      ''■^OAwaaiH^^     ^yoxmrni"^       ^^smmm^'    ''^^mmmi^ 


A\\EUNIVERSyA        ^lOSANCElfj> 


..WlLIBRARYQr^ 

"1  fir-^ 


^ijij:jw^oi-^       ''7yaAi;in]i':v'        ^>^ojrr,'jjo>'      ^^'i/Oi 


Dictionary    of   Christ 
and    the    Gospels 


Printed  by  Morrison  &  Gibe  Limited 


T.    &    T.    CLARK,    EDINBURGH 

lONDON  :    SIMI'KIN,     MARSHALL,    HAMILTON,    KENT,     AND    CO.    LIMITED 
NEW   YORK  :    CHARLES    SCRIBNEB's   SONS 


[The  Sights  of  Translation  and  of  Eeprodvction  are  Reserved.'] 


Dictionary  of  Christ 
and  the  Gospels 

EDITED   BY 

JAMES    HASTINGS,    D.D. 


WITH  THE  ASSISTANCE  OK 

JOHN    A.     SELBIE,    D.D. 

AND  (IN  THE  READING  OP  THE  PROOFS)  OF 

JOHN  C.  LAMBERT,  D.D. 


VOLUME    I 
AAEON  -  KNOWLEDGE 


Edinburgh:    T.  &  T.   CLARK,   38   George   Street 

New  York:  CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS,  i53-i57  Fifth  Avenue 
1906 


First  Impression  .  .  .  November  1906 
Second  Impression  .  .  January  1907 
Third  Impression     .     .     June  1908 


{Messrs.  Charles' Scribner's  Sons,  i^'etv  York,  have  the  sole  right  of  publication  of  this 
Dictionary  of  Christ  and  the  Gospels  in  the  United  States  and  Canada.] 


35 
v.l 


PREFACE 


"    The  Purpose  of  this  Dictionary  is  to  give  an  aecouut  of  everything  that  relates  to 
'■^    CHRIST — His  Person,  Life,  Work,  and  Teaching. 

It  is  in  a  sense  complementary  to  the  Dictionary  of  the  Bible,  in  which,  of 
course,  Christ  has  a  great  place.  But  a  Dictionary  of  the  Bible,  being  occupied 
mainly  with  things  biographical,  historical,  geographical,  or  antiquarian,  does  not  give 
attention  to  the  things  of  Christ  sufficient  for  the  needs  of  the  preacher,  to  whom 
yhrist  is  everything.  This  is,  first  of  all,  a  preacher's  Dictionary.  The  Authors  of 
the  articles  have  been  carefully  chosen  from  among  those  Scholars  who  are,  or  have 
^  been,  themselves  preachers.  And  even  when  the  articles  have  the  same  titles  as 
articles  in  the  Dictionai-y  of  the  Bible,  they  are  written  by  new  men,  and  from  a  new 
standpoint.  It  is  thus  a  work  which  is  quite  distinct  from,  and  altogether  independent 
of,  the  Dictionary  of  the  Bible. 

It  is  called  a  Dictionary  of  Christ  and  the  Gospels,  because  it  includes 
everything  that  the  Gospels  contain,  whether  directly  related  to  Christ  or  not. 
Its  range,  however,  is  far  greater  than  that  of  the  Gospels.  It  seeks  to  cover  all  that 
relates  to  Christ  throughout  the  Bible  and  in  the  life  and  literature  of  the  world. 
There  will  be  articles  on  the  Patristic  estimate  of  Jesus,  the  Mediseval  estimate,  the 
Eeformation  and  Modern  estimates.  There  will  be  articles  on  Christ  in  the  Jewish 
writings  and  in  the  Muslim  literature.  Much  attention  has  been  given  to  modern 
thought,  whether  Christian  or  anti-Christian.  Every  aspect  of  modern  life,  in  so  far 
as  it  touches  or  is  touched  by  Christ,  is  described  under  its  proper  title. 

Still,  the  Gospels  are  the  main  source  of  our  knowledge  of  Christ,  and  it  will  be 
found  that  the  contents  of  the  Gospels,  especially  their  spiritual  contents,  have  never 
before  been  so  thoroughly  investigated  and  set  forth. 


SlSiiS 


PREFACE 


It  will  be  observed  at  once  that  a  large  number  of  the  titles  of  the  articles 
are  new.  Thus — to  take  the  first  letter  of  the  alphabet — there  are  no  articles  in 
the  Dictionary  of  the  Bible  (unless  the  word  happens  to  be  used  in  some  obsolete 
sense)  on  Abgar,  Abiding,  Above  and  Below,  Absolution,  Accommodation,  Activity, 
Affliction,  Agony,  Amazement,  Ajvibassage,  Ambition,  Announcements  of  Death, 
Annunciation,  Arbitration,  Akisteas,  Aristion,  Arrest,  Asceticism,  Attraction  of 
Christ,  Attributes  of  Christ,  Authority  of  Christ,  Authority  in  Religion,  Awe. 
These  articles  are  enough  to  give  the  present  work  distinction. 

Again,  there  are  certain  topics  which  are  treated  more  fully  here  than  in  the 
Dictionary  of  the  Bible,  because  they  have  specially  to  do  with  Christ.  In  the  letter 
A  may  be  named  Acceptance,  Access,  Alpha  and  Omega,  Anger,  Anointing, 
Ascension,  Assurance,  Atonement. 

All  these  articles,  moreover,  have  a  range  which  is  greater  than  the  corresponding 
articles  in  the  Dictionary  of  the  Bible,  if  they  occur  there.  They  describe  some  aspect 
of  Christ's  Person  or  Work,  not  only  as  it  is  presented  in  the  Bible,  but  also  as  it 
has  been  brought  out  in  the  history  of  the  Church,  and  in  Christian  experience. 

And  even  when  the  articles  are  confined  to  the  Gospels  they  have  a  character 
of  their  own.  The  ground  that  has  to  be  covered  being  less,  the  treatment  can  be 
fuller.  It  has  also  been  found  possible  to  make  it  more  expository.  Take  the 
following  examples — Abba,  Amen,  Angels,  Apostles,  Aechelaus,  Art,  Augustus. 

Thus,  in  a  word,  there  are  three  classes  of  topics,  each  of  which  contributes 
something  towards  the  distinction  of  this  work.  There  are  topics,  like  Authority 
of  Christ,  which  are  wholly  new.  There  are  topics  which  may  or  may  not  be 
wholly  new,  like  Attraction  (which  is  new)  and  Atonement  (which  is  not),  but 
which  have  a  wider  range  than  any  topics  in  the  Dictionary  of  the  Bible.  And 
there  are  topics,  like  Angels,  which  have  a  narrower  range,  having  no  occasion  to 
go  beyond  the  limits  of  tiie  Gospels,  but  within  that  range  are  fuller,  and  of  more 
practical  value  for  the  preacher. 

The  subject  is  inexhaustible.  It  has  not  been  exhausted  in  this  work.  Perhaps 
the  most  that  has  been  done  is  to  show  how  great  Christ  is. 

Many  scholars  have  rendered  valuable  assistance.  In  addition  to  the  services  of 
Dr.  Selbie  and  Dr.  Lambert,  the  Editor  desires  especially  to  acknowledge  those  of 
Professor  Howard  Osgood  of  Eochester  Theological  Seminary,  New  York,  who 
examined  the  Gospels  minutely  to  see  that  no  topic  had  been  omitted,  and  added 
some  useful  titles  to  the  list. 

The  Dictionary  will  be  completed  in  two  volumes,  of  which  this  is  the  first. 


LIST  OF  ABBREVIATIONS 


I.  General 

Alex.  =  Alexandrian. 

LXX  =  Septuagint. 

Apoc.=  Apocalypse,  Apocalyptic. 

MSS  =  Manuscripts. 

Apocr.=  Apocrypha,  Ap 
Aq.  =Aquila. 
Arab.  =  Arabic. 

ocryphal. 

MT  =  MassoreticText. 
n.=note. 

NT  =  New  Testament. 

Aram.  =  Aramaic. 

Onk.=Onkelos. 

Assy  r.=  Assyrian. 
Bab.  =  Babylonian. 

0T  =  Old  Testament. 

P  =  Priestly  Narrative. 

c.=  circa,  about. 

Pal.  =  Palestine,  Palestinian. 

Can.=Canaanite. 

Pent.  =  Pentateuch. 

cf.  =  compare. 

Pers.  =  Persian. 

ct.  =  contrast. 

Phil.  =  Philistine. 

D  =  Deuteronomist. 

Phoen.=  Phoenician. 

E  =  Elohist. 

Pr.  Bk.  =  Prayer  Book. 

edd.=editions  or  editors. 

R= Redactor. 

Egyp.  =  Egyptian. 
Eng.  =  English. 

Rom.  =  Roman. 

Sam.  =  Samaritan. 

Eth.  =  Ethiopic. 

Sem.  =  Semitic. 

f.  =and  following  verse  or  page  :  as  Ac  10"'-. 

Sept.=Septuagint. 

ffi  =and  following  verses  or  pages :  as  Mt  U'**-. 

Sin.  =  Sinaitic. 

Gr.=  Greek. 

Symm.  =Symraachus. 

H  =  Law  of  Holiness. 

Syr.=Syrilc. 
T'alm.  =  Talmud. 

Heb.  =  Hebrew. 

Hel.  =  Hellenistic. 

Targ.  =Targum. 

Hex.  =  Hexateuch. 

Theod.=Theodotion. 

Isr.=  Israelite. 

TR=TextusBeceptus. 

J  =  Jahwist. 

tr.  =  translate  or  translation 

J"=  Jehovah. 

VSS=Versions. 

Jerus.=  Jerusalem. 

Vulg.  =  Vulgate. 

Jos.=Josephus. 

Wtf=Westcott  and  Hort's  text. 

II.  Books  o 

F  THE  Bible 

Old  Testament. 

Ad.  Est  =  Additions   to 

Sus  =  Susanna. 

On  =  Genesis. 

Ca  =  Canticles. 

Esther. 

Bel  =  Bel       and       the 

Ex  =  Exodus. 

Is  =  Isaiah. 

Wis=Wisdora. 

Dragon. 

Lv  =  Leviticus. 

Jer  =  Jeremiah. 

Sir  =  Sirach  or   Ecclesi- 

Pr.     Man  =  Prayer    of 

Nu  =  Numbers. 

La  =  Lamentations. 

asticus. 

Manasses. 

Dt= Deuteronomy 
.Jos  =  Joshua. 

Ezk=Ezekiel. 

Bar  =  Baruch. 

1  Mac,  2  Mac  =  l  and  2 

Dn  =  Daniel. 

Three  =  Song     of     the 
Tlu-ee  Chiktren. 

Maccabees. 

Jg  =  Judges. 

Hos  =  Hosea. 

Ru  =  Ruth. 

1  S,  2  S  =  l  and  2  Samuel. 

Jl  =  Joel. 
Am  =  Amos. 

Neiv  Testament. 

1  K,  2K  =  1  and  2  Kings. 

Ob  =  Obadiah. 

Mt  =  lMatthew. 

1   Th,   2  Til  =  1   and  il 

1   Ch,   2    Ch  =  1    and    2 

Jon  =  Jonah. 

Mk  =  Mark. 

Thessalonians. 

Chronicles 

Mic=Micah. 

Lk  =  Luke. 

1    Ti,    2    Ti  =  1   and  2 

Ezr  =  Ezra. 

ISrah  =  Nahum. 

Jn  =  John. 

Tiniothy. 

Neh  =  Nehemiah. 

Hab=Habakkuk. 

Ac  =  Acts. 

Tit  =  Titus. 

Est  =  Esther. 
.Tob. 

Zeph  =  Zephaniah. 
Hag  =  Haggai 
Zee  =  Zechariah. 

Ro  =  Romans. 

1   Co,    2  Co  =  1   and  2 

Phileni  =  Philemon. 
He  =  Hebrews. 

Ps  =  Psalms. 

Corinthians. 

Ja  =  James. 

Pr  =  Proverbs. 

Mal  =  Malaehi. 

Gal  =  Galatians. 

1  P,  2  P=l  and  2  Peter. 

Ec  =  Ecclesiastes. 

Eph=Ephesians. 
Pfc=PhUippians. 

1  Jn,  2  Jn,  3  Jn--1,  2. 
and  3  John. 

Apocrypha. 

Col=Colossians. 

Jude. 

1   Es,   2  Es  =  1    and    2 

To  =  Tobit. 

Rev  =  Revelation. 

Esdras. 

Jth  =  Judith. 

LIST  OF  ABBREVIATIONS 


III. 

Wyc.=Wydif's  Bible  (NT  c.  13S0,  OT  f.  1382,  j 
Purvey's  Kevision  c.  1388).  ! 

Tind.  =Tindale's  NT  1526  and  1534,  Pent.  1530.    I 
Cov.  =  Coverdale's  Bible  1535.  j 

Matt,   or  Rog.  =  Matthew's  (i.e.  prob.  Rogers') 

Bible  1537. 
Cran.  or  Great =Cranmer's  '  Great '  Bible  1539. 
Tav.  =Taverner's  Bible  1539.  | 

Gen.  =  Geneva  NT  1557,  Bible  1560.  i 


Versions 

Bish.=  Bishops'  Bible  1568. 
Tom.=Tomson's  NT  1576. 
Rheni.  =Rhemish  NT  1582. 
Dou.  =  Douay  OT  1609. 
AV=Authorized  Version  1611. 
AVni  =  Authorized  Version  margin. 
RV  =  Revised  Version  NT  1881,  OT  : 
RVm= Revised  Version  margin. 
EV  =  Auth.  and  Rev.  Versions. 


IV.  For  the  Literature 


.4  fl"r=  Ancient  Hebrew  Tradition. 

.i4</5i  =  American  Journal   of  Sem.   Lang,   and 

Literature. 
AJTh-=AmeT\cs,u  Journal  of  Theology. 
^r=Altes  Testament. 
-Bi  =  Bampton  Lecture. 
.Bjlf=  British  Museum. 
i}iJP= Biblical  Researclies  in  Palestine. 
(7/(r  =  Corpus  Inscriptionum  Gr.ecarum. 
C/i  =  Corpus  Inscriptionum  Latinarum. 
C/<S=  Corpus  Inscriptionum  Semiticarum. 
COr=  Cuneiform  Inscriptions  and  the  OT. 
i)fi=Bictionary  of  the  Bible. 
Z)C4  =  Dictionary  of  Christian  Antiquities. 
Z)iJ£= Dictionary  of  Religion  and  Ethics. 
EHS=Ea.Tly  History  of  the  Hebrews. 
.Ex/) r=  Expository  Times. 
G^P=Geographie  des  alten  Palastina. 
Gff.4  =  Gottingische  Gelehrte  Anzeigen. 
ff(?iV=Nachrichten  der  kbnigl.  Gesellschaft  der 

Wissenschaften  zu  Gottingen. 
GJ'F=Geschichte  des  Jiidischen  Volkes. 
GF/=Geschichte  des  Volkes  Israel. 
HCM=  Higher  Criticism  and  the  Monuments. 
-ffjF=Historia  Ecclesiastica. 
5'Cfi'i  =  Historical  Geog.  of  Holy  Land. 
-ff/=  History  of  Israel. 
5^7"=  History  of  the  Jewish  People. 
S'PJf=  History,  Prophecy,  and  the  Monuments. 
HPN=  Hebrew  Proper  N  ames. 
/J"G=Israelitische  und  JUdische  Gescliichte. 
</Bi= Journal  of  Biblical  Literature. 
J'Z)rA= Jahrbiicher  fur  deutsche  Theologie. 
JQR  =  3<i\\\s\i  (Juurt.'ilv  l;evi,.w. 
JRAS=3onTn.\\  nf  rii.-' Koyil  A-Litic  Society. 
«/'5i= Journal  of  s,i<  i^  !  Lit<-i.ii  ^-i.-, 
JThSt=3ourn.d  :>i  'I'li.-oln-i,  ,il  Studies. 
KAT=V>\e  Keilinsohriften  und  das  Alte  Test. 
iirGi'=Keilinschriften  u.  Geschichtsforschung. 
KIB  =  Keilinschriftliche  Bibliothek. 
iB=The  Land  and  the  Book. 
XCfi;= Literarisches  Centralblatt. 
XOr=Introd.  to  the  Literature  of  the  Old  Test. 


i)/VZ)Pr=Mittheilungen     u.     Naclirichten     d- 

deutschen  Pal.  - Vereins. 
iV//iri)  =  Neuhebraisches  Worterbuch. 
NTZG  =  Neutestamentliche  Zeitgeschichte. 
0X=  Otium  Norvicense. 
OP  =  Origin  of  the  Psalter. 
OTJC=i\ie  Old  Test,  in  the  Jewish  Church 
P£=  Polychrome  Bible. 
PEF=^  Palestine  Exploration  Fund. 
PEFSt  =  Quarterly  Statement  of  the  same. 
P^.B.-1  =  Proceedings  of  Soc.  of  Bibl.  Arch.-eology. 
P.B£=Real-Encyklopadie  fUr  protest.  Theologie 

und  Kirche. 
§PP  =  Queen's  Printers'  Bible. 
PP  =  Re\'ue  Bibliqiie. 
REJ=  Revue  des  Etudes  Juives. 
.BP=Records,of  the  Past. 
.B5'=  Religion'  of  the  Semites. 
i'P£= Sacred  Books  of  the  East. 
S£Or=  Sacred  Books  of  Old  Test 
.S'A''=Studien  imd  Kritiken. 
i'P  =  Sinai  and  Palestine. 

6' IKP= Memoirs  of  the  Survey  of  W.  Palestine. 
ThL  or  rAi2r=Theol.  Literaturzeituiig. 
rAr=Theol.  Tijdschrift. 
r.S= Texts  and  Studies. 

TiSPjI  =  Transactions  of  Soc.  of  Bibl.  Archreology. 
r{7=Texte  und  Untersuchunijen. 
ir.4/=  Western  Asiatic  Inscriptions. 
IFZiir3/=  Wiener    Zeitschrift    fiir     Kunde    des 

ilorgenlandes. 
ZA  =Zeitschrift  fur  Assyiiologie. 
ZAW  or  Z^Tjr=Zeit8chrift  fiir  die    Alttest. 

Wissenschaft. 
.^Z>.l/0  =  Zeitschrift     der     Deutschen     Morgen- 

liindisohen  Gesellschaft. 
ZDP r=Zeitsihrift    des    Deutschen    Paliistina- 

Vereiiis. 
.?A'.s'P=  Zeitschrift  fiir  Keilschriftforschung. 
ZA"n'  =  Zeitschrift  fiir  kirchliche  Wissenschaft. 
ZxVnr'=Zeitschrift  fiir    die  Neutest.    Wissen. 

schaft. 
if rAA'= Zeitschrift  f.  Theologie  u.  Kirche. 


A  small  superior  number  designates  the  particular  edition  of  the  work  referred  to  :  as  KA'P,  LOT^. 


AUTHOES  OF  ARTICLES  IN  VOL.  I 


Rev.  Robert  M.  Adamson,  M.A.,  Ardrossan. 

Rev.  Walter  F.  Adeney,  D.D.,  Professor  of 
Theology  and  Principal  of  the  Lancashire 
College,  Manchester. 

Rev.  P.  Henderson  Aitken,  B.Sc,  B.D., 
Glasgow. 

Rev.  Gross  Alexander,  S.T.D.,  late  Professor  of 
New  Testament  Greek  and  Exegesis  in  Vander- 
bilt  University,  Nashville. 

Rev.  WiLLOUGHBY  C.  Allen,  M.A.,  Chaplain, 
Fellow,  and  Lecturer  in  Theology  and  Hebrew, 
Exeter  College,  Oxford. 

Rev.  William  P.  Armstrong,  D.D.,  Professor 
of  New  Testament  Literature  and  Exegesis  in 
Princeton  Theological  Seminary,  N.J. 

Rev.  Benjamin  Wisner  Bacon,  D.D.,  Professor 
of  New  Testament  Criticism  and  Interpreta- 
tion in  Yale  University,  New  Haven. 

Rev.  P.  Mordaunt  Barnard,  B.D.,  late  Rector 
of  Headley,  Epsom. 

Rev.  Francis  R.  Beattie,  Ph.D.,  D.D.,  LL.D., 
Professor  of  Apologetics  and  Systematic 
Theology  in  the  Presbyterian  Theological 
Seminary  of  Kentucky. 


Very  Rev.  John  Henry  Bernard,  D.D.,  Dean  of 
St.  Patrick's,  Fellow  of  Trinity  College,  and 
Archbishop  King's  Lecturer  in  bivinity  in  the 
University  of  Dublin. 

Kev.  Harry  Bisseker, RI. A., The  Leysian  Mission, 
London. 

Rev.  Archibald  Bisset,  Ratho. 

Rev.  Andrew  N.  Bogle,  M.A.,  Leith. 

Rev.  Albert  Bonus,  M.A.,  Alphington,  Exeter. 

Rev.  George  H.  Box,  M.A.,  late  Hebrew  Master, 
Merchant  Taylors'  School,  London,  Rector  of 
Linton,  Ross. 

Rev.  E.  P.  B0Y.S-SMITH,  M.A.,  Vicar  of  Hordle, 
Brockenhurst. 

Rev.  J.  B.  Beistow,  B.D.,  Rector  of  Clondalkin, 
Co.  Dublin. 

Rev.  MoRisoN  Bryce,  Baldernock,  Milngavie. 

Rev.  A.  E.  Burn,  D.D.,  Rector  of  Handsworth, 
Birmingham,  and  Prebendary  of  Lichfield. 

Rev.  Dugald  Clark,  B.D.,  Glassary,  Loch- 
gilphead. 

Rev.  John  S.  Clemens,  M.A.,  Principal  of  Ran- 
moor  College,  Sheffield. 

Rev.  Arthur  W.  Cooke,  M.A.,  Newcastle-on- 
Tyne. 


Rev.  James  Cooper,  D.D.,  Professor  of  Ecclesi- 
astical History  in  the  University  of  Glasgow. 

Rev.  Hugh  H.  Curkie,  B.D.,  Keig,  Aberdeen- 
shire. 

Rev.  Edgar  Daplyn,  London. 

Right  Rev.  Charles  Frederick  D'Aecy,  D.D., 
Bishop  of  Clogher. 

Rev.  Edwin  Charles  Dargan,  D.D.,  LL.D., 
Professor  of  Homiletics  and  Ecclesiology  in  the 
Southern  Baptist  Theological  Seminary,  Louis.- 
vOle,  Ky. 

Rev.  W.  Theophilus  Davison,  D.D.,  Professor  of 
Theology  in  Richmond  Theological  College, 
Surrey. 

Rev.  Percy  Dearmer,  M.A.,  Vicar  of  St.  Mary's 
the  Virgin,  Primrose  HUl,  London. 

Rev.  Francis  Brigham  Denio,  D.D.,  Professor  of 
Old  Testament  Language  and  Literature  in 
Bangor  Theological  Seminary,  Maine. 

Rev.  James  Denney,  D.D.,  Professor  of  New 
Testament  Language,  Literature,  and  Theology 
in  the  United  Free  Church  College,  Glasgow. 

Rev.  C.  T.  Dimont,  M.A.,  Vicar  of  Holy  Trinity, 
Halifax. 

Rev.  Marcus  Dods,  D.D.,  Professor  of  Exegetical 
Theology  in  the  New  College,  Edinburgh. 

Rev.  Henry  E.  Dosker,  D.D.,  Professor  of 
Church  Histoiy  in  the  Presbj'terian  Theo- 
logical Seminary  of  Kentucky. 

Rev.  F.  Homes  Dudden,  B.D.,  Fellow  of  Lincoln 
College,  Oxford. 

Rev.  Alexander  A.  Duncan,  B.D.,  Auchterless, 
Aberdeenshire. 

Rev.  Hugh  Duncan,  B.D.,  Garturk,  Coatbridge. 

Rev.  W.  H.  Dundas,  B.D.,  Curate  Assistant  of 
St.  Thomas's,  Belfast. 

Rev.  William  Henry  Dyson,  Edgerton,  Hudders- 
field. 

Rev.  George  Boardman  Eager.  D.D.,  Professor 
of  Biblical  Introduction  and  Pastoral  Theology 
in  the  Southern  Baptist  Theological  Seminary, 
Louisville,  Ky. 
Rev.  William  Ewino,  M.A.,  Edinburgh,  for- 
merly of  Tiberias,  Palestine. 

Rev.  J.  W.  Falconer,  B.D.,  Halifax,  Nova  Scotia. 

Rev.  R.  A.  Falconer,  D.Litt.,  D.D.,  Principal  of 
the  Presbyterian  Theological  College,  Halifax, 
Nova  Scotia. 


AUTHOES  OF  ARTICLES  IN  VOL.  I 


Kev.  George  Fakmee,  formerly  Vicar  of  Hartlip, 

Kent. 
Kev.  J.  H.  Farmer,  Professor  in  M^aster  Uni- 
versity, Toronto. 
Kev.   C.    L.    Feltoe,  D.D.,  Rector  of  Duxford, 

CanibriJge. 
Kev.  Adaii  Fyfe  Findlay,  M.A.,  Arbroath. 
Rev.  J.  Dick  Fleming,  B.D.,  Tranent. 
Rev.  Frank  Hugh  Foster,  Pli.D.,  D.D.,  lately 

Professor  of  Systematic  Theology  in  the  Pacific 

Seniinai-y,  Berkeley,  Cal. 
Rev.    \ViLLi.\M    B.vrrett    Frankland,    M.A., 

late  Fellow  of  Clare  College,  Cambridge,  and 

Assistant-Chaplain  at  Giggleswick  School. 
Rev.    Robert    Sleighthouse    Franks,    M.A., 

B.Litt.,  Birmingham. 
Rev.  Norman  Fraser,  B.D.,  Edinburgh. 
Rev.  Henry  William  Fulford,  M.A.,  Fellow  of 

Clare  College,  Cambridge. 
Rev.  C.  E.  Garrad,  M.A.,  Fellow  of  Clare  College, 

and  Vice-Principal  of    the    Clergy  Training 

School,  Cambridge. 
Rev.   Alfred  Ernest  Gaevie,  D.D.,  Professor 

of  Ethics,  Theism,  and  Comparative  Religion 

in  New  and  Hackney  Colleges,  London. 
Rev.  Owen  H.  Gates,  Ph.D.,  Professor  in  Andover 

Theological  Seminary,  Mass. 
Rev.    LuciEN    Gautier,   Ph.D.,   Honorary   Pro- 
fessor of  Old  Testament  Exegesis  and  History, 

Geneva. 
Rev.    Alfred    S.    Geden,    M.A.,    Professor   of 

Biblical  Literature  and  Exegesis  in  Richmond 

College,  Surrey. 
Rev.  George  Holley  Gilbert,  Ph.D.,D.D.,  late 

Professor  of  New  Testament   Literature  and 

Literjiretation  in  Chicago  Theological  Semi- 
nary. 
Rev.  Richard  Glaister,  B.D.,  Kirkcudbright. 
Teeeot  Reaveley  Glover,  M.A.,  Fellow  and 

Classical  Lecturer,  St.  John's  College,  Cam- 
bridge. 
Rev.    Calvin    Goodspeed,    D.D.,    Professor   of 

Systematic  Theology  in    Baylor  University, 

Waco,  Texas. 
Rev.  George  Pearce  Gould,  M.A.,  Principal  of 

Regent's  Park  College,  London. 
Rev.  James  Gordon  Gray,  D.D.,  Rome. 
Rev.  Thomas  Gregory,  M.A.,  Kilmalcolm. 
Rev.   Canon    Charles   T.    P.  Grierson,  B.D., 

Rector  of  Seapatrick,  Banbridge,  Co.  Down. 
Rev.  James  O.  Hannay,  M.A.,  Rector  of  Augh- 

aval,  Westport,  Co.  Mayo. 
Rev.  Charles  Harris,  D.D.,  Vicar  of  Claverley, 

Wolverhampton,  late  Lecturer  in  Theology  in 

St.  David's  College,  Lampeter. 
Rev.  John  Herkless,  D.D.,  Professor  of  Church 

History  in  the  University  of  St.  Andrews. 
Rev.    F.    R.    Montgomery    Hitchcock,    B.D., 

Rector  of  Kinnitty,  King's  Co. 
Rev.  Caspar  Wistar  Hodge,  D.D.,  Lecturer  in 

Systematic  Theology  in  Princeton  Theological 

Seminary,  N.J. 
Rev.   A.   Mitchell   Hunter,    M.A.,    Cardross, 

Dumbartonshire. 
Rev.  William  Ralph  Inge,  D.D.,  Vicar  of  All 

Saints',     Ennismore   Gardens,    London,    late 

Fellow  aud  Tutor  of  Hertford  College,  Oxford. 


Rev.  James  Iverach,  D.D.,  Professor  of  Apolo- 
getics and  Dogmatics,  Principal  of  the  United 
Free  Church  College,  Aberdeen. 

Rev.  H.  L.  Jackson,  M.A.,  Vicar  of  St.  Mary's, 
Huntingdon. 

Rev.  Arthur  Jenkinson,  Innellan,  Greenock. 

A.  J.  Jenkinson,  M.A.,  Fellow  of  Brasenose 
College,  Oxford. 

Rev.  E.  Griffith-Jones,  B.A.,  London. 

Rev.  W.  S.  Keer,  B.D.,  Vicar  of  Bally  waiter,  Co. 
Down. 

Rev.  Thomas  B.  Kilpatrick,  D.D.,  Professor 
of  Systematic  Theology  in  Knox  College, 
Toronto. 

Rev.  Richard  John  Knowling,  D.D.  ,  Canon  of 
Durham,  and  Professor  of  Divinity  in  the 
University  of  Durham. 

Rev.  David  M.  W.  Laird,  M.A.,  Edinburgh. 

Rev.  John  C.  Lambert,  D.D.,  Fenwick,  Kil- 
marnock. 

Rev.  Robert  Leggat,  Berwick-on-Tweed. 

Rev.  John  Robert  Legge,  M.A.,  Buckhurst  Hill, 
Essex. 

Rev.  William  F.  Lofthouse,  M.A.,  Professor  in 
the  Theological  College,  Handsworth,  Bir- 
mingham. 

Rev.  Charles  Scott  Macalpine,  B.D.,  Man- 
chester. 

Kev.  A.  B.  Macaulay,  M.A.,  Dundee. 

Rev.  George  M'Hardy,  D.D.,  Kirkcaldy. 

Rev.  George  M.  Mackie,  D.D.,  Chaplain  to 
the  Church  of  Scotland  at  Beyrout,  Syria. 

Rev.  Duncan  A.  Mackinnon,  M.A.,  Marykirk, 
Kincardineshire. 

Rev.  Robert  Mackintosh,  D.D.,  Professor  of 
Christian  Ethics,  Apologetics,  and  Sociology 
the  Lancashire  Independent  College,  Man- 


Right  Rev.  Arthur  John  Maclean,  D.D.,  Bishop 

of  Moray. 
Rev.   A.    H.   M'Neile,   B.D.,    Fellow  and  Dean 

of  Sidney  Sussex  College,  Cambridge. 
Rev.  James  Edmond  M'Ouat,  B.D.,  Logiealmond, 

Perthshire. 
Rev.  William  M.  M'Pheeters,  D.D.,  Professor 

of   Old   Testament  Literature  and   Exegesis, 

Columbia  Theological  Seminary,  S.C. 
Rev.  Robert  Macpherson,  D.D.,  Elgin. 
Rev.  Joseph  T.  L.  Maggs,  D.D.,  Leeds. 
Rev.  John  Turner  Marshall,  D.D.,  Principal 

of  the  Baptist  College,  Manchester. 
Rev.  A.  Stuart  Martin,  B.D.,  Scone,  Perth. 
Rev.  G.  Currie  Martin,  D.D.,  Professor  of  New 

Testament    Theology    and    Patristics    in   the 

United  College,  Bradford. 
E.  W.  GURNEY   Masterman,  M.D.,  F.R.C.S., 

F.R.G.S.,  D.P.H.,  Jerusalem,  Syria. 
Rev.  Shailer  Mathews,  D.D.,  Professor  of  New 

Testament  History  and  Interpretation  in  the 

University  of  Chicago. 
Rev.   J.   H.   Maude,   M.A.,   Rector    of    Hiigay, 

Downham  Market. 
Late   Rev.    Prebendary   F.    Meyrick,    M.A., 

Rector  of  Blickling,  Aylesham. 


AUTHOKS  OF  ARTICLES  IN  VOL.  I 


Kev.  Andrew  Miller,  M.A.,  Glasgow. 

Kev.  W.  J.  S.  Miller,  B.D.,  Houndwood,  Keston. 

Kev.  George  Milligan,  D.D.,  Caputh,  Perth- 
shire. 

Rev.  James  Moffatt,  D.D.,  Dundonald,  Ayrshire. 

Rev.  W.  S.  Montgomery,  B.D.,  Abbeyleix, 
Queen's  County. 

Rev.  W.  \V.  Moore,  D.D.,  President  of  Union 
Theological  Seminary,  Richmond,  Va. 

Rev.  W.  Morgan,  M.A.,  Tarbolton,  Ayrshire. 

Rev.  R.  Waddy  Moss,  D.D.,  Professor  of  Classics 
in  the  Didsbury  College,  Manchester. 

Rev.  John  Muie,  B.D.,  Kirkcowan,  Wigtownshire. 

Rev.  Joseph  Muir,  B.D.,  Edinburgh. 

Rev.  Lewis  A.  Muirhead,  D.D.,  Broughty  Ferry. 

Rev.  George  Murray,  B.D.,  Sauchie,  Alloa. 

Rev.  James  Ross  Murray,  M.A.,  Manchester. 

Eberhard  Nestle,  Ph.D.,  D.D.,  Professor  at 
Maulbronn. 

Rev.  M.  R.  Newbolt,  B.A.,  Vicar  of  IfBey, 
Oxford. 

Rev.  Albert  Henry  Newman,  D.D.,  LL.D., 
Professor  of  Church  History  in  Baylor  Uni- 
versity, Texas. 

Rev.  Thomas  Nicol,  D.D.,  Professor  of  Biblical 
Criticism  in  the  University  of  Aberdeen. 

Rev.  W.  0.  E.  Oesterley,  B.D.,  Organizing 
Secretary  of  the  Parochial  Missions  to  the 
Jews  at  Home  and  Abroad. 

Rev.  J.  W.  Oman,  D.Phil.,  Alnwick. 

Rev.  James  Patrick,  B.D.,  B.Sc,  Burntisland. 

Rev.  William  Patrick,  D.D.,  Principal  of 
Manitoba  College,  Winnipeg. 

Arthur  S.  Peake,  B.D.,  Professor  of  Biblical 
Exegesis  and  Dean  of  the  Faculty  of  Theology, 
Victoria  University,  Manchester. 

Rev.  John  Robert  van  Pelt,  Ph.D.,  Lewisburg, 

Pa. 
Rev.  Alfred  Plummer,  D.D.,  late  Master  of 

University  College,  Durham. 

Rev.  E.  B.  Pollard,  Georgetown,  Ky. 

Rev.  Cyril  Henry  Prichard,  M.A.,  Rector  of 
Wiston,  Steyning,  Sussex. 

Rev.  F.  S.  Ranken,  M.A.,  Rector  of  South 
Walsham,  Norwich. 

Rev.  W.  M.  Rankin,  B.D.,  Glasgow. 

Rev.  John  Reid,  M.A.,  Inverness. 

llev.  J.  S.  RiGGS,  D.D.,  Professor  of  Biblical 
Criticism  in  the  Theological  Seminary  of 
Auburn,  N.Y. 

Rev.  C.  W.  Rishell,D.D.,  Professor  of  Historical 

Theology  in  Boston  University,  Mass. 
Rev.  John  Edward  Roberts,  B.D.,  Manchester. 

Rev.  Archibald  Thomas  Robertson,  D.D.,  Pro- 
fessor of  Interpretation  of  the  New  Testament 
in  the  Southern  Baptist  Theological  Seminary, 
Louisville,  Ky. 

Rev.  James  Robertson,  D.D.,  Whittingehame. 


Rev.  F.  E.  Robinson,  B.D.,  Professor  of  Hebrew 
in  the  Baptist  College,  Bristol. 

Rev.  George  Livingston  Robinson,  Ph.D., 
Professor  of  Old  Testament  Literature  and 
Exegesis  in  the  M'Cormick  Theological 
Seminary,  Chicago. 

Rev.  Andrew  E.  Ross,  B.D.,  Rector  of  Portrush, 
Co.  Antrim. 

Rev.  Alfred  Norman  Rowland,  M.A.,  London. 

Rev.  John  Richard  Sampey,  D.D.,  LL.D.,  Pro- 
fessor of  Interpretation  of  the  Old  Testament 
in  the  Southern  Baptist  Theological  Seminar}-, 
Louisville,  Ky. 

Rev.  William  Sanday,  D.D.,  LL.D.,  D.Sc.Lady 
Margaret  Professor  of  Divinity,  and  Canon  of 
Christ  Church,  Oxford,  Chaplain  in  Ordinarv 
to  H.M.  the  King. 

Rev.  Charles  Anderson  Scott,  M.A.,  London. 

Rev.  Ernest  F.  Scott,  B.A.,  Prestwick. 

Rev.  Robert  Scott,  M.A.,  Professor  in  Wilson 

College,  Bombay. 
Rev.  Henry  Clay  Sheldon,  D.D.,  Professor  of 

Systematic  Theology  in  Boston  University. 
Rev.  Edward  Shillito,  M.A.,  Brighton. 
Rev.    S.    J.    Ramsay   Sibbald,    B.D.,    Crathie, 

Ballater. 
Rev.  J.  G.  Simpson,  M.A.,  Principal  of  the  Clergy 

School,  Leeds. 
Rev.  David  Smith,  M.A.,  TuUiallan. 


Rev.  J.  Cromarty  Smith,  B.D.,  Coatdyke,  Coat- 
bridge. 

W.  Taylor  Smith,  M.A.,  Sevenoaks,  Kent. 

Rev.  Harry  Herbert  Snell,  B.A.,  Reading. 

Late  Rev.  J.  Soutar,  M.A.,  Tiberias,  Palestine. 

Alexander  Souter,  M.A.,  Litt.D.,  Yates  Pro- 
fessor of  New  Testament  Exegesis  in  Mansfield 
College,  Oxford. 

Rev.  W.  B.  Stevenson,  B.D.,  Professor  of  Hebrew 
and  Old  Testament  Introduction  in  the  Theo- 
logical College,  Bala. 

Rev.  George  Wauchope  Stewart,  B.D.,  Aber- 
deen. 

Rev.  Robert  Laird  Stewart,  D.D.,  Professor  in 
Lincoln  University,  Chester  Co.,  Penn. 

Rev.  Darwell  Stone,  M.A.,  Pusey  Librarian, 
Oxford. 

Rev.  G.  Gordon  Stott,  B.D.,  London. 

Rev.  R.  H.  Strachan,  M.A.,  Elie. 

Rev.  A.  PoLLOK  Sym,  B.D.,  Lilliesleaf. 

Rev.  John  G.  Tasker,  D.D.,  Professor  of  Biblical 
Literature  and  Exegesis  in  Handswortli  Col- 
lege, Birmingham. 

Rev.  R.  Bruce  Taylor,  M.A.,  Aberdeen. 

Rev.  Milton  Spencer  Terry,  D.D.,  LL.D.,  Pro- 
fessor of  Christian  Doctrine  in  the  Garrett 
Biblical  Institute,  Northwestern  University. 

Rev.  G.  W.  Thatcher,  B.D.,  Professor  of  Hebrew 
and  Old  Testament  History  in  Mansfield  Col- 
lege, Oxford. 

Rev.  W.  H.  Griffith  Thomas,  D.D.,  Principal  of 
Wycliffe  Hall,  Oxford. 

Rev.  William  D.  Thomson,  M.A.,  Edinburgh. 


Xll 


AUTHORS  OF  ARTICLES  IN  VOL.  I 


Rev.    Edward    Harper    Titchmarsh,    JM.A., 

Sheffield.  j 

Kev.  Geerhardus  Vos,  Ph.D.,  D.D.,  Professor  of  I 

Biblical    Tlieology  in   Princeton  Theological  j 

Seminary,  X.J. 
Rev.  G.  H.  S.  AValpole,  D.D.,  Rector  of  Lambeth.  ' 
Kev.  Benjamin  Breckinridge 'Warfield,  D.D., 

LL.D.,   Professor    of    Theology  in   Princeton 

Theological  Seminary,  N.J. 
Rev.  George  C.  Watt,  B.D.,  Edinkillie. 
Rev.  Thomas  H.  Weir,  B.D.,  M.R.A.S.,  Lecturer 

in  Hebrew  and  Arabic  in  the  University  of 

Glasgow. 
Professor  Dr.  Johannes  Weiss  of  the  University 

of  Marburg. 
Rev.  Newport  J.  D.  AVhite,  D.D.,  Lecturer  in 

Hebrew   and   Divinity   in   the   University  of 

Dublin,  and  Canon  of  St.  Patrick's  Cathedral. 


Kev.  B.  Whitefoord,  D.D.,  Prebendan-  of  Salis- 
bury Cathedral  and  Principal  of  the  Theological 
College,  Salisbury. 

Rev.  A.  R.  AVhitham,  ^LA.,  Prmcipal  of  the 
Culham  Training  College,  Abingdon. 

Rev.  J.  R.  Willis,  B.D.,  Rector  of  Preban  and 
Jloyne,  Rathdrum,  Co.  Wicklow. 

Herbert  G.  Wood,  M.A.,  Fellow  of  Jesus  Col- 
lege, Cambridge. 

Rev.  Nathan  E.  Wood,  President  of  the  Theo- 
logical Seminary,  and  Professor  of  Christian 
Theology,  Newton  Centre,  Mass. 

Rev.  Arthur  W.  Wotherspoon,  M.A.,  Glasgow. 

Rev.  T.  H.  Wright,  Edinburgh. 

Rev.  Andrew  C.  Zenos,  D.D.,  Professor  of 
Biblical  Theology  in  the  M'Cormick  Theo- 
logical Seminary,  Chicago. 


"a^^:^ 

1                                                                                                  -p-BO-ff    ..nit 

A    ■-    - 

lo 

3 

\--A            : 

DICTIONARY    OF    CHRIST 
AND    THE    GOSPELS 


AARON. — The  name  occurs  only  5  times  in  the 
NT.  Three  of  the  passages  contain  historical 
references  only :  Lk  P  where  Elisabeth  is  de- 
scribed as  '  of  the  daughters  of  Aaron '  ;  Ac  V 
which  refers  to  the  request  of  the  Israelites  that 
Aaron  would  '  make  them  gods ' ;  and  He  9^ 
'Aaron's  rod  that  budded.'  The  other  two  pas- 
sages refer  to  Aaron's  office  as  high  priest,  and  are 
directly  concerned  with  the  Christian  doctrine  of 
the  priesthood  of  Christ.  In  He  5^  we  read,  '  And 
no  man  taketh  the  honour  unto  himself,  but  when 
he  is  called  of  God,  even  as  was  Aaron '  ;  and  He  7" 
speaks  of  another  priest  after  the  order  of  Mel- 
chizedek,  who  should  '  not  be  reckoned  after  the 
order  of  Aaron.'  It  is  as  the  representative  high 
priest  that  Aaron  has  been  regarded  as  a  type  of 
Christ. 

The  two  points  on  which  the  writer  of  Hebrews 
insists  are,  one  of  comparison,  and  one  of  contrast. 
On  the  one  hand,  Christ,  like  Aaron,  did  not  take 
His  priestly  office  on  Himself,  but  was  directly 
appointed  by  God  (5^)  ;  on  tlie  other,  the  Aaronic 
type  of  priesthood  is  sharply  distinguished  from 
that  of  our  Lord  in  certain  fundamental  respects. 
Christ  was  indeed  divinely  appointed :  He  was 
prepared  for  service,  in  being  made  like  His 
brethren  (2-'),  and  fitted  by  His  sympathy  (4'°) 
and  fidelity  to  undertake  priestly  work  on  their 
behalf  ;  through  His  death  on  the  cross  He  ottered 
Himself  as  a  sacrifice,  apparently  on  earth  and 
certainly  in  heaven  as  a  temple  not  made  with 
hands  (9-*) ;  He  is  able  to  save  to  the  uttermost 
those  who  come  to  God  through  Him  as  priest, 
seeing  He  ever  lives  to  make  priestly  intercession 
for  them  (7-'*).  Thus  far  He  was  Aaron's  antitype. 
But  the  analogy  fails  most  seriously  in  certain 
important  features,  as  the  writer  of  Hebrews 
shows.  Christ's  priesthood  was  not  according  to 
the  Law.  If  He  were  on  earth.  He  would  not  be 
a  priest  at  all,  springing  as  He  did  from  Judah, 
not  from  Levi  (7").  He  did  not  hold  His  office  in 
virtue  of  earthly  descent,  nor  was  He  limited  to 
an  earthly  sanctuary,  nor  did  He  present  to  God 
a  sin-offering  which  could  be,  or  needed  to  be, 
frequently  repeated  (9"'-).  None  of  the  sacrifices 
of  the  Law  could  '  make  perfect  as  pertaining  to 
the  conscience  '  (9').  At  loest  they  procured  only 
a  limited  access  to  God.  Into  the  holiest  place 
the  high  priest  was  permitted  to  enter  only  once 
a  year,  and  then  in  virtue  of  sacrifices  offered  for 

VOL.    I.  — I 


his  own  sins,  as  well  as  the  people's  (9').  Christ's 
priesthood  was  'after  the  order  of  Melchizedek' 
(6-"),  eternal  :  His  sacrifice  was  a  spiritual  one, 
ofi'ered  once  for  all ;  it  is  impossible  to  think  of 
the  repetition  on  earth  of  that  ottering  which 
'through  (the)  eternal  Spirit'  (9'^)  our  glorified 
High  Priest  presents  continually  in  'a  more  per- 
fect tabernacle'  (v.")  in  heaven  itself,  for  us.  He 
was  made  a  priest,  not  according  to  any  legal 
enactment  belonging  to  earth  and  finding  its  ex- 
pression in  the  Hesh  ;  but  dynamically,  according 
to  the  enduring  power  of  an  indissoluble  life  (7'"). 

Thus  Christ  may  well  be  spoken  of  as  the  second 
Adam,  but  not  as  a  second  Aaron.  The  lines  of 
Bishop  Wordsworth's  hymn,  '  Now  our  heavenly 
Aaron  enters,  Through  His  blood  within  the  veil,' 
can  be  defended  onlv  in  so  far  as  the  name  Aaron 
is  synonymous  with  high  priest.  The  personal 
name  suggests  just  those  limitations  which  the 
generic  name  avoids,  and  which  the  writer  of 
Hebrews  expressly  warns  us  must  on  no  account 
be  attributed  to  our  great  High  Priest  who  has 
passed  into  the  heavens.  So  far  as  the  doctrine 
of  Christ  is  concerned,  it  is  well  to  follow  Scripture 
usage  and  to  speak  of  Him  as  our  Eternal  High 
Priest,  rather  than  to  press  an  analogical  or  typical 
relation  to  Aaron,  which  fails  at  many  cardinal 
points. 

Literature.— For  the  further  discussion  of  the  subject  see 
Westoott  and  A.  B.  Davidson  on  Hebrews,  especially  the 
detached  note  of  the  latter  on  the  Priesthood  of  Christ ;  also 
Milligan's  Baird  Lectures  on  The  Ascension  mid  Heavenly 
Prieithond  of  our  Lord,  and  the  art.  of  Dr.  Denney  on  '  Priest- 
hood in  NT'  in  Hastings'  DB,  vol.  iv.      W.  T.  DAVISON. 

ABBA.— An  Aramaic  word  preserved  by  St. 
Mark  in  our  Lord's  prayer  in  Gethsemane  (14* 
'A/3(3a  6  Trarrip,  Tvavra  Svvari.  aoi),  and  given  twice 
in  the  same  association  with  6  Trarrip  by  St.  Paul 
(Ro  8"  iXa^ere  Trvev)i.a  vloSefflas  iv  V  Kpo-^o/Mef,  'A/3/3a 
6  Trar-np  ;  and  Gal  4"  iiairiartCKev  6  0ebs  rt>  Xlvfu^a  -rod 
vlou  avToO  els  rds  Kapdlas  ^M"""  Kpa^ov,  'A/3/3a  6  Trarrip). 
A  difficulty  arises  both  as  to  the  spelling  and  the 
pronunciation  of  the  word  Abba,  and  also  as  to  its 
being  found  in  all  the  above  passages  joined  to 
6  Trar-fip. 

1.  Abba  (dj3/3a)  corresponds  to  the  Aramaic  n;n 
abbd,  which  is  the  definite  state  of  as  Mh  (con- 
struct state  3N  abh),  and  means  '  Father,'  unless  it 
is  used  for  '  my  Father  '  (k?><  for  '5!«)  as  in  Gn  19'*' 
(Targ.  of  Onkelos  and  jjseudo-Jonathau ;  see  Ual- 


ABBA 


man,  Aramiiisch-Nculiebruisrlics  Wbrtci-huch,  s.v., 
Gramm.  p.  162,  and  Words  of  Jesus,  p.  192  [Dal- 
man  says  that  the  sufiix  of  1  yers.  .siiii,'.  is  '  ilelihci- 
ately  avoided  with  dn  and  is  supiilied  by  the  de- 
terminative form']).  It  is  not,  however,  quite 
certain  that  tlie  word  was  pronounced  abhd  in 
Palestine  in  our  Lord's  time.  As  the  points  were 
not  invented  till  many  centuries  after,  we  cannot 
be  sure  that  nbbil  was  then  the  definite  state  rather 
than  ah/ui  as  in  Syriac ;  and  we  have  no  indication 
except  the  Greek  transliteration  that  the  b  was  then 
doubled.  But  the  fact  that,  when  points  were  first 
used  ( A.D.  700  ?),  the  daghesh  was  emi)loyed  for  the 
definite  state  of  this  word  in  the  Targuniic  litera- 
ture, coupled  with  the  doubling  of  the  ^  in  the 
Greek,  aflbrds  a  presumption  that  the  b  was  hard 
and  doubled  in  this  word  at  the  beginning  of  our 
era  [Dalman  gives  for  the  definite  state  n:><  Gn 
44",  or  K3  Nu  25",  or  in  Palestinian  Targum  also 
N3N ;  with  other  pronominal  suffixes  A\e  have  'nnx 
etc.,  and  the  pi.  definite  state  is  NrCi?S].  The 
Syriac,  on  the  other  hand,  has  b  aspirated  through- 
out, »o]  abh,  |i|  abhd  (pron.  av,  avd,  or  «?(', 
aivd),  etc.,  and  the  distinction  between  (ii|  abd, 
a  sjnritual  father,  and  |o(  avA,  a  natural  father, 

which  the  grammarians  make,  appears  not  to  be 
founded  on  any  certain  basis,  nor  to  agree  with 
the  manuscripts  (Payne-Smith,  Thesaurus  Syriacus, 

S.V.).  The  proper  name  |i]  also  in  Syriac  has 
always  aspirated  b,  while  Dalman  (Wbrterbuch) 
gives  for  Targumio  N3N,  and  says  it  is  an  ab- 
breviation of  n;3N.     In  Mk  14'^  (Peshitta)  Pusey 

and  Gwilliam  give  ]i|    as  in  Massora  1  in  the 

British  Museum  (Codex  Additionalis  12138,  Nes- 
torianus,  A.D.  899);  the  American  edition  prints 

lisl  (i.e.  with  ,^)  in  all  three  NT  places ;  but  this 

13  rather  a  following  of  the  grammarians  than  of 
good  manuscripts.  It  is  very  noteworthy,  however, 
that  the  ^larkleian  version  in  the  Markan  passage 

spells  the  word  l*^*^],  transliterating  the  Greek 
directly  back  into  Syriac,  rather  than  using  the 
Syriac  word  itself. 

John  Lightfoot  {Horce  ffebraica;  on  Mk  14**) 
remarks  that  the  Targum,  in  translating  the  OT, 
never  renders  a  '  civil'  father,  i.e.  a  master,  prince, 
lord,  etc.,  by  n?x,  but  only  a  natural  father,  or  a 
father  who  adopts ;  in  the  former  sense  they  use 
some  other  word.  But  this  throws  no  light  on  the 
pronunciation  of  Abba. 

It  is  to  be  noticed  that  it  is  not  certain  how 
the  Greeks  of  the  1st  cent,  themselves  pronounced 
dp/3a,  whether  abbd  or,  as  the  modern  Greeks  pro- 
nounce it,  avvd.  The  word  is  not  found  in  the 
LXX.  It  passed  into  ecclesiastical  Latin  with  a 
doubled  b,  and  gave  us  such  words  as  'abbot,' 
'abbacy,'  etc. 

But  does  it  mean  'Father'  or  'my  Father'?  If 
it  be  a  Jewish  fornmla  or  fixed  manner  of  begin- 
ning jirayer,  it  may  well  be  the  latter.  We  must, 
however,  note  that  whatever  be  the  way  of  ac- 
counting for  'A^/3a  6  Tarrip  (see  below),  the  origina- 
tors or  originator  of  that  phrase  in  Greek,  whether 
the  Jews,  or  our  Lord,  or  St.  Paul,  or  the  Second 
Evangelist,  seem  to  have  taken  'A/9;3a  to  mean 
merely  'Father.'  And  the  same  is  probably  true 
of  the  translators  of  the  Peshitta.     The  Sinaitic 

Syriac,  however,  appears  to  read  ■  ■  ^]  ?»y  Father 

(see  below).   The  Curetonian  Syriac  is  wanting  here. 


2.  We  have  next  to  account  for  the  association 
of  'A,3^a  in  its  Greek  dress  with  6  xar^p  in  all  the 
three  places  where  it  occurs  in  NT.     In  Mk  14^' 

the    Peshitta   reads    .  .  ^"j     fi")    '  Father,    my 

Father,'  and  the  Sinaitic  Syriac  has  simply  wj-sl 

'my  Father.'    In  Eo  8'^  and  Gal  4«  the  Peshitta 

reads  ^Q.^|  |o].  All  these  appear  to  be  mere 
expedients  adopted  to  avoid  the  awkwardness  of 

repeating  |ii  |,  and  they  do  not  really  throw  light 
on  the  origin  of  the  Greek  phrase. 

We  may  first  take  as  a  supposition  that  our 
Lord,  praying  in  Gethsemane,  used  the  Aramaic 
language,  and  therefore  said  'Abba'  only,  and 
that  6  iraTJip  is  the  Evangelist's  explanation,  for 
Greek  readers,  of  the  Aramaic  word.  St.  Mark 
undoubtedly  reports  several  Aramaic  words,  and 
except  in  the  case  of  the  well-known  '  Rabbi,' 
'  Rabboni '  (9^  10='  etc. ),  explains  them.  But  then 
he  always  uses  a  formula,  S  ianv  (3"  ?"■  ^)  or  &  iari 
)ie0ipij.-qpevli)i.evov  (5""  15**).  It  is  suggested  that  in 
the  case  of  Abba  the  familiarity  of  tlie  word  Avould 
make  the  connecting  formula  unnecessary ;  but 
the  same  consideration  would  make  it  unnecessary 
to  explain  it  at  all.  Another  suggestion  is  that  the 
solenmity  of  the  context  would  make  the  formula 
incongruous.  The  strongest  argument  for  6  Toriip 
being  an  addition  of  the  Evangelist  is  that,  what- 
ever view  we  take  of  our  Lord's  having  made  use 
of  Greek  in  ordinary  speech,  it  is  extremely  un- 
likely that  His  prayers  were  in  that  language; 
and  if  He  prayed  in  Aramaic,  He  would  only  say 
'  Abba.'  It  is  the  common  experience  of  bilingual 
countries  that  though  the  acquired  language  may 
be  in  constant  use  for  commerce  or  the  ordinary 
purposes  of  life,  the  native  tongue  is  tenaciously 
retained  for  devotion  and  prayer.  Sanday-Head- 
lam's  supposition  (Romans,  in  lac),  that  our  Lord 
used  both  words  spontaneously,  with  deep  emotion, 
might  be  quite  probable  if  He  prayed  in  the  foreign 
tongue,  Greek ;  but  scarcely  so  if  He  prayed  in  the 
native  Aramaic  (see,  however,  below). 

If  0  TOTi)/)  be  due  to  St.  Mark,  it  is  probably  not 
a  mere  explanation  for  the  benefit  of  Greek  readers. 
The  suggestion  that  'A§pS.  o  Tarr/p  had  become  a 
quasi-liturgical  formula,  possibly  even  among  the 
Jews,  or  more  probably  among  the  Christians,  would 
account  for  its  introduction  in  a  prayer,  where 
interpretations  would  be  singularly  out  of  place. 
And  this  suggestion  would  account  for  St.  Paul's 
using  the  phrase  twice,  in  two  Epistles  written 
about  the  same  time,  indeed,  but  to  two  widely 
distant  Churches.  St.  Paul  is  not  in  the  habit  of 
introducing  Aramaic  words  ('  Maran  atha'  in  1  Co 
16^2  is  an  exception),  and  if  he  were  not  quoting 
a  well-known  form,  it  is  unlikely  that  he  would 
have  introduced  one  in  writing  to  the  Romans  and 
Galatians.  It  is  not  probable,  however,  that  he  is 
quoting  or  thinking  of  our  Lord's  words  in  Geth- 
semane, for  there  is  nothing  in  the  context  to 
suggest  this. 

If  the  phrase  be  a  liturgical  formula,  we  may 
account  for  it  in  various  ways.  J.  B.  Lightfoot 
(Galatians,  in  loc.)  suggests  that  it  may  have 
originated  among  Hellenistic  Jews  ;  or  else  among 
Palestinian  Jews,  after  they  had  learned  Greek, 
as  '  an  expression  of  importunate  entreaty.'  He 
prefers  the  latter  view,  thinking  that  perhaps  our 
Lord  Himself  used  both  words.  He  apparently 
means  that  Jesus  took  the  Greek  word  into  His 
Aramaic  prayer  ;  and  he  quotes  from  SchiJttgen  a 
similar  case  where  a  woman  entreats  a  judge  and 
addresses  him  as  'T3  na  '  My  lord,  lord,'  the  second 
word  being  equivalent  to  the  first,  except  for  the 


ABEL 


ABGAR 


possessive  suffix,  and  being  a  transliteration  of 
KiJpie.  Cliase  ('The  Lord's  Prayer  in  the  Early 
Church,'  in  the  Cauibridge  Texts  and  Studies,  vol. 
i.  p.  23)  has  suggested  another  origin  for  the  plirase, 
whicli  would  place  its  home,  not  among  the  Jews 
(for  which  there  is  no  evidence),  but  among  the 
Christians.  He  suggests  that  it  is  due  to  the 
shorter  or  Lukan  form  of  the  Lord's  Prayer  (Lie 
11-^-).  The  Aramaic  sliorter  form  would  liegin 
with  Abba,  for  the  Greek  begins  with  Iltixcp  ;  and 
the  hypothesis  is  tliiit  the  early  Christians  in  the 
intensity  of  their  tlevotion  repeated  the  first  \vord 
of  the  prayer  in  eitlier  language.  A  somewhat 
similar  phenomenon  is  seen  in  the  repetitions  for 
emphasis  in  Kev  9"  12^  20^,  where  the  names  are 
given  in  both  languages.  Such  a  repetition  is 
possible  only  in  a  bilingual  country.  That  it  is 
the  sliorter  form  of  the  Lord's  Prayer  that  is  used 
(if  Dr.  Chase's  hypotlie.sis  be  tiue), is  seen  from  the 
Aramaic  N3!S  Abba.  If  the  longer  form  had  been 
in  question,  ildrep  ■in.iuiv,  the  initial  word  of  the 
Aramaic  would  liave  hud  tlie  [msscssivo  pronominal 
suffix  of  1  pers.  pi.,  and  would  be  nj13N  dhhitnd. 
It  is  a  confirmation  of  this  theory  that  the  words 
which  follow,  'Not  what  I  will  but  what  thou 
wilt,'  recall  'Thy  will  be  done'  of  the  Lord's 
Prayer ;  compare  especially  Mt  26-'-  yevqe-fiTu  ri 
Oi\T)ij.a  aov,  the  exact  words  of  the  longer  form  of 
the  Lord's  Prayer.  This  shows  that  both  Evangel- 
ists had  that  prayer  in  their  minds  when  relating 
the  agony.  The  only  consideration  which  militates 
against  tbe  theory  is  that  6  TraHip  is  used  for  Hdrep. 
The  nominative  with  the  article  is,  however,  often 
u.sed  in  NT,  by  a  Hebrew  analogy,  for  an  emphatic 
vocative,  and  the  desire  for  einphusis  may  account 
for  its  use  here.  A.  J.  MACLEAN. 

ABEL  ('73n,  "A/3eX).— 1.  The  name  occurs  in  the 
Gospels  only  in  Mt  23"^^  ||  Lk  IP',  where  Jesus 
declares  that  the  blood  of  the  prophets  will  be 
required  of  this  generation.  The  passage  is  one 
of  a  series  of  invectives  against  Pharisaism,  col- 
lected in  Mt  23,  parts  of  which  are  preserved  in 
Lk  11.  13.  14.  20.  21.  Abel  is  named  as  the  first  of 
the  long  line  of  martyrs  whose  blood  had  been 
shed  during  the  period  covered  by  the  OT,  the 
last  being  Zachariah  (which  see).  '  In  both  cases 
the  ^Kf^TTjffts  is  indicated:  "the  voice  of  thy 
brother's  blood  crieth  unto  me  from  the  ground " 
(Gn  4'") ;  "  the  Lord  look  upon  it,  and  require  it" 
(2  Ch  24-).'  In  St.  Matthew  the  words  are  ad- 
dressed to  the  Pharisees  in  the  2nd  person  :  '  that 
upon  you  may  come  every  righteous  blood  [i.e. 
the  blood  of  each  righteous  person]  shed  upon  the 
earth,  from  the  blood  of  Abel  the  righteous,  until 
the  blood  of  Zachariah  .  .  .  etc.'  In  St.  Luke  the 
passage  is  thrown  into  the  3rd  person  :  '  that  the 
blood  of  all  the  prophets  which  hath  been  shed 
from  the  foundation  of  the  world  may  be  required 
of  this  generation,  from  the  blood  of  Abel  until 
the  blood  of  Zachariah  .  .  .  etc' 
_  The  description  of  Abel  in  St.  Matthew  as  '  the 
righteous '  is  noteworthy,  and  should  be  compared 
with  He  11^.  In  the  story  of  Abel  nothing  what- 
ever is  said  as  to  his  moral  character  ;  the  contrast 
between  him  and  his  brother  lay  in  the  fact  that 
'  Jehovah  had  respect  unto  Abel  and  to  his  offer- 
ing ;  but  unto  Cain  and  to  his  ofTering  he  had  not 
respect.'  The  writer  of  the  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews 
says  that  it  was  faith  which  led  Abel  to  offer  the 
more  excellent  sacrifice ;  but  wherein  the  excellence 
consisted  the  narrative  of  Genesis  does  not  explain. 
But  the  expression  tov  SiKaiou  seems  to  reflect  the 
Pharisaic  conception  of  righteousness  as  that  which 
'consisted  primarily  in  the  observance  of  all  the 
rites  and  ceremonies  prescribed  in  the  law '  (cf. 
Lk  1").  Abel's  ofTering  must  have  been  preferred 
presumably  because  it  was  in  some  way  more  to  I 


God's  liking— more  correct.  This,  however,  was 
not  consonant  with  Christ's  idea  of  righteousness — 
'  except  your  righteousness  shall  abound  beyond 
that  of  the  scribes  and  Pharisees,  ye  shall  not 
enter  into  the  kingdom  of  heaven '  (Mt  5-").  It 
may  be  concluded,  therefore,  that  St.  Luke  has 
preserved  the  more  original  form  of  Christ's  words, 
and  that  '  the  righteous '  is  an  addition  in  Mt  23"= 
due  to  current  Jewish  conceptions. 

2.  It  is  possible  that  Christ  had  the  story  of 
Abel  in  mind  when  He  spoke  of  the  devil  as  being 
'a  murderer  (dvBpwiroKTSi'oi)  from  the  beginning,' 
i.e.  the  instigator  of  murder  aa  he  is  of  lies(Jn8"). 
But  the  passage  may  be  a  reference  to  the  intro- 
duction of  death  into  the  world  by  the  fall  of 
Adam. 

3.  In  He  12^  the  '  blood  of  Abel '  is  contrasted 
with  the  '  blood  of  sprinkling '  under  the  new  dis- 
pensation. In  Gn  41"  God  says  :  '  Hark  !  (Sip)  thy 
brother's  blood  crieth  unto  me  from  the  ground,' 
i.e.  it  pleads  for  vengeance.  But  the  blood  of 
sprinkling  'speaketh  something  better'  {Kpi'iTTov 
\a\ouvTi) :  it  is  the  blood  shed  in  ratification  of  a 
New  Covenant,  whose  mediator  is  Jesus. 


Literature.— The  most  recent  commentaries  on  Matthew  and 
Luke  (ad locc);  Wri^iht,  Synojmt;  <</ the  Gospels  in  Greek,  p.  232  ; 
Sanday-Headlam,  Ramans,  pp.  28-31,  on  hixone^  and  its  cognates ; 
Driver,  Genesis  (in  Westminster  conmicntaries) ;  Dillmann, 
'Genesis,'  in  Kwrzgef.  exeget.  Handb.  z.  AT  [Eng.  tr.  by 
Stevenson,  Edinburgh,  1897J ;  Marcus  Dods,  '  Genesis '  in  Ex- 
positor's Bible.  '     ""    ■"'*■' 


ABGAR.— Between'the  years  B.C.  99  and  A.D.  217 
eight  (or  ten)  kings  or  toparohs  of  Edessa  in 
Osrhoene  bore  this  name.  It  is  with  the  toparch 
that  ruled  in  the  time  of  our  Saviour,  Abgar 
UkkamaCthe  Black,'  c  B.C.  13  to  A.D.  50  [Gut- 
schmid],  B.C.  9  to  A.D.  46  [Dionysius  of  Telmahar]), 
that  we  are  here  concerned,  owing  to  the  legendary 
accounts  of  his  correspondence  with  Jesus,  accepted 
as  historical  fact  by  Eusebius,  and  by  him  given 
wide  currency.  Eusebius  {HE  i.  13)  relates,  with- 
out any  suggestion  of  scepticism,  that  'king  Ab- 
gar, who  ruled  with  great  glory  the  nations  beyond 
the  Euphrates,  being  afHicted  with  a  terrible  disease 
which  it  was  beyond  the  power  of  human  skill  to 
cure,  when  he  heard  of  the  name  of  Jesus  and  His 
miracles,  .  .  .  sent  a  message  to  Him  by  a  courier 
and  begged  Him  to  heal  the  disease.'  Eusebius 
proceeds  to  impart  the  letter  of  Abgar  and  the 
answer  of  Jesus,  which  he  claims  to  have  derived 
directly  from  the  archives  of  Edessa,  and  to  have 
translated  (or  caused  to  be  translated)  literally 
from  Syriac  into  Greek.  The  letter  of  Abgar 
reads  as  follows  : — 

'  Abgar,  ruler  of  Edessa,  to  Jesus  the  excellent  Saviour  who 
has  appeared  in  the  country  of  Jerusalem,  greeting.    I  have 
heard  the  reports  of  thee  and  of  thy  cures  as  performed  by 
thee  without  mcdit 
word  only  thou  njal 


iJouB,     uenesis    in  ii 

A.  H.  M'Neile. 


that  thou 


■  herbs.    For  it  is  said  that 

Mind  to  see  and  the  lame  t 

'  spi; 


oil  tL.jIrsi  those  afflicted  with  lingering 
di'seases',  and  also  (li:il  tli.ni  i:i:-rsl  the  dead.  And  having  hcivrd 
all  these  things  roiir.rnini;  tliic.  I  have  concluded  that  one  of 
two  things  must  be  true  :  either  thou  art  God  and  hast  come 
down  from  heaven  to  do  these  things,  or  else  thou  who  doest 
these  things  art  the  Son  of  God.  Wherefore  I  have  written  to 
thee  to  ask  thee  that  thou  wouldest  take  the  trouble  to  come 
even  to  me  and  heal  the  disease  which  I  have.  For  I  have  been 
informed  th.at  the  Jews  are  murmuring  against  thee  and  are 
plotting  to  injure  thee.  But  I  have  a  city,  small  iudeed  yet 
honourable,  which  may  suffice  for  us  both.' 

The  answer  of  Jesus  runs— 

'Blessed  art  thou  who  hast  believed  in  me  when  thou  thyself 
hast  not  seen  me.  For  it  stands  written  concerning  me,  that 
they  who  have  seen  me  will  not  believe  in  me,  and  that  they 
who  have  not  seen  me  will  believe  and  be  saved.  But  in  regarcl 
to  what  thou  hast  written  me,  that  I  should  come  to  thee,  it  13 
necessarv  for  me  to  fulfil  all  things  here  for  which  I  have  been 
sent,  and  after  I  have  fulfilled  them  thus  to  be  taken  up  again 
to  Him  that  sent  me.  But  after  I  have  been  taken  up  I  will 
send  to  thee  one  of  my  disciples,  that  he  may  heal  thy  disease 
and  give  life  to  thee  and  those  who  are  with  thee." 


ABGAE 


ABIATHAE 


From  an  accompanying  narrative  in  the  Syriae 
language,  giving  an  account  of  the  fulfilment  of 
Christ's  promise,  Eusebius  quotes  at  considerable 
length.  A  brief  sunmiary  of  the  contents  of  this 
tlocument  must  here  suffice.  Judas,  also  called 
Thomas,  is  said  to  have  sent  Thaddtieus,  one  of  the 
Seventy,  to  Edessa,  soon  after  the  ascension  of 
Jesus.  Arriving  in  Edessa  he  took  lodgings,  and 
without  reporting  himself  at  the  court  engaged 
extensively  in  works  of  healing.  When  the  king 
heard  thereof  he  suspected  that  he  was  the  disciple 
promised  by  Jesus,  and  had  him  brought  to  court. 
On  the  appearance  of  Thaddaius  'a  great  vision 
appeared  to  Abgar  in  the  countenance  of  Thad- 
dceus,'  which  led  the  former  to  prostrate  himself 
before  the  latter,  to  the  astonishment  of  the 
courtiers,  who  did  not  see  the  vision.  Having 
become  assured  that  his  guest  is  the  promised 
disciple  of  Jesus,  and  that  he  has  come  fully  em- 
powered to  heal  and  to  save  on  condition  of  his 
exercise  of  faith,  Abgar  assures  Thaddaius  that  his 
faith  is  so  strong  that,  had  it  not  been  for  the 
presence  of  the  Romans,  he  would  have  sent  an 
army  to  destroy  the  Jews  that  crucified  Jesus. 
Thaddoeus  assures  him  that  in  fulfilment  of  the 
Divine  plan  of  redemption  Jesus  has  been  taken 
up  to  His  Father,  and,  on  a  further  profession  of 
faith  in  Father  and  Son,  Thaddaeus  lays  his  hands 
upon  the  king  and  heals  him.  Many  other  healings 
follow,  accompanied  by  the  preaching  of  the  gospel. 
At  Thaddseus'  suggestion  tlie  king  summons  the 
citizens  as  a  body  to  hear  the  preacliing  of  the 
word,  and  afterwards  offers  him  a  rich  reward, 
which  is  magnanimously  refused.  According  to 
the  Syriae  document  from  which  Eusebius  quotes, 
the  visit  of  Thaddaius  occurred  in  the  year  340  of 
the  era  of  the  Seleucidie  (corresponding,  according 
to  K.  Schmidt  in  PEI?,  suh  voc,  to  A.D.  29; 
according  to  others,  A.D.  30,  31,  or  32). 

From  the  same  Edessene  materials  Moses  of 
Chorene,  the  Armenian  historian  of  the  middle  of 
the  5th  cent.,  prepared  independently  of  Eusebius 
an  account  of  the  intercourse  between  Abgar  and 
Christ  and  His  disciples,  which  attests  the  general 
correctness  of  Eusebius'  work.  The  fact  that 
Moses  was  for  several  years  a  student  in  Edessa 
enhances  the  value  of  his  account.  He  represents 
the  reply  of  Jesus  as  having  been  written  on  His 
behalf  by  Thomas  the  Apostle.  In  Moses'  account 
occurs  the  statement  that  after  his  conversion 
Abgarus  wrote  letters  to  the  emperor  Tiberius,  to 
Narses,  king  of  Assyria,  to  Ardaches,  king  of  Persia, 
and  others,  recommending  Christianity  {Ilist.  Arm. 
ii.  30-33).  Here  also  appears  the  legend  that 
Christ  sent  by  Ananias,  the  courier  of  Abgar,  a 
picture  of  Himself  impressed  upon  a  handkerchief. 
This  part  of  the  story  was  still  further  elaborated 
by  Cedrenus  {Hist.  Comp.  p.  176),  who  represents 
Ananias,  the  courier  of  Abgar,  as  himself  an 
artist,  and  as  so  overcome  by  the  splendour  of  the 
countenance  of  Jesus  when  attempting  to  depict 
it  that  he  was  obliged  to  desist ;  whereupon  Christ, 
having  washed  His  face,  wiped  it  with  a  towel 
which  retained  His  likeness.  This  jncture  was 
taken  by  Ananias  to  his  master,  and  it  became  for 
the  city  a  sort  of  talisman.  This  miraculously 
produced  portrait,  or  what  purported  to  be  such,  is 
said  to  have  been  transferred  to  the  church  of  St. 
Sophia  at  Constantinople  in  the  10th  cent.,  and 
later  to  have  passed  tlience  to  the  church  of  St. 
Sylvester  in  llome,  where  it  is  still  exhibited 
for  the  edification  of  the  faithful.  A  church  in 
Genoa  makes  a  rival  claim  to  the  possession  of  the 
original  handkerchief  portrait. 

Any  suspicion  that  Eusebius  fabricated  the  docu- 
ments that  he  professes  to  translate  was  set  aside 
by  the  discovery  and  publication  of  what  have 
been  accepted  as  the  original  Syriae  documents 


{The  Doct.  of  Addai  the  Apostle,  with  an  English 
Translation  and  Notes,  by  G.  Phillips,  London, 
1876).  The  Syriae  document  contains  the  story  of 
the  portrait,  which  was  probably  already  current 
in  the  time  of  Eusebius.  The  Syiiac  version  of 
the  story  given  by  Cureton  in  his  Ancient  Syriae 
Documents  seems  to  be  an  elaborate  expansion  of 
that  of  Eusebius,  and  to  have  been  composed  con- 
siderably later. 

The  letter  of  Christ  to  Abgar  was  declared  by  a 
Roman  Council  in  494  or  495  to  be  spurious.  Tille- 
niont  sought  to  prove  the  genuineness  of  the  corre- 
spondence (Memoirs,  i.  pp.  362,  615),  and  similar 
attempts  have  been  made  by  Welte  {Tilbingen 
Quartalschr.  1842,  p.  335  ff.),  Rinck  {Zeitschr.  f. 
Hist.  Theol.  1843,  ii.  pp.  3-26),  Phillips  (preface 
to  The  Doct.  of  Addai),  and  Cureton  {Anc.  Syr. 
Doc). 

It  may  be  assumed  that  the  documents  were 
forged  some  time  before  Eusebius  used  them. 
Christianity  seems  to  have  been  introduced  into 
Osrhoene  during  the  2nd  cent.  A.D.  The  first 
king  known  to  have  favoured  Christianity  was 
Abgar  VIII.  (bar-Manu),  who  reigned  176-213,  and 
is  said  to  have  been  on  very  intimate  terms  with 
Bardesanes,  the  scholarly  Gnostic.  A  Christian 
church  building  modelled  after  the  temple  in  Jeru- 
salem existed  in  Edessa  some  time  before  202, 
until,  according  to  the  Edessene  Chronicle,  it  was 
destroyed  (middle  of  the  6th  cent.)  by  flood.  As 
Edessa  grew  in  importance  as  a  Christian  centre, 
with  its  theological  school,  its  ambition  for  dis- 
tinction may  have  led  some  not  over-scrupulous 
ecclesiastic  to  fabricate  these  documents  and  to 
palm  them  ofi'  on  the  too  credulous  authorities. 
The  forgery  may  have  occurred  early  in  the  3rd 
cent.  (Zahn),  but  more  probably  early  in  the  4th. 
The  only  piece  of  real  information  that  has  come 
down  to  us  regarding  the  Abgar  of  the  time  of 
Christ  is  a  very  uncomplimentary  reference  in 
Tacitus  {Ann.  xii.  12.  14). 

Literature.— In  addition  to  the  works  already  mentioned, 
special  reference  should  be  made  to  Lipsius,  Die  edessenuche 
Afjgarsagc,  ISSO,  where  the  available  materials  are  brought 
under  review  and  critically  tested ;  cf.  also  Matthes,  Die  edes- 
senische  Abgarsane  aitf  ihre  Forthildung  untersuiht,  1882; 
Tixeron,  Les  origines  de  Ciglise  d'Edesse  et  la  Ugende  d' Abgar, 
18S8 ;  Farrar,  Clrist  in  Art,  p.  79  f. 

Albert  Henry  Newman. 
ABIA  (AV  of  Mt  F,  Lk  1").— See  Abijah. 

ABIATHAR The  son  of  Ahimelech,  the  son  of 

Ahitub,  the  son  of  Phinehas,  the  son  of  Eli.  He  is 
mentioned  in  Mk  2"-  *  '  Have  ye  never  read  -what 
David  did,  when  he  had  need,  and  was  an  hungred, 
he,  and  they  that  were  with  him  ?  How  he  went 
into  the  house  of  God  in  the  days  of  Abiathar  the 
high  priest,  and  did  eat  the  shew  bread  ? '  The  RV, 
however,  translates,  'when  Abiathar  was  high 
priest.'  The  reference  is  evidently  to  1  S  21, 
where,  according  to  the  Hebrew  text,  Ahimelech 
"ives  David  the  sacred  bread.  There  is  thus  a 
discrepancy  between  the  two  passages.  The  facts 
are  these  : — The  AV,  cited  above,  follows  the 
reading  of  A  and  C  {M  'A^iadap  toO  ipx^ep^ws),  RV 
follows  that  of  B  and  N  (which  omit  the  article) 
and  the  Vulgate  ('sub  Abiathar  principe  sacer- 
dotum ').  The  clause  is  omitted  altogether  by  D. 
In  the  MT  of  1  S  21  and  22  and  in  Ps  52^  (title) 
the  high  priest  is  Ahimelech  the  son  of  Ahitub 
and  the  father  of  David's  friend  Abiathar.  In 
the  Greek  text  of  all  these  passages,  however,  the 
name  is  Aiimelech.  In  2  S  8"  and  1  Ch  24' 
Ahimelech  (iu  1  Ch  18^'^  Ahimelech)  tlie  son  of 
Abiathar  is  priest  along  with  Zadok,  but  it  is 
generally  supposed  that  Abiathar  the  .son  of 
Ahimelech  is  meant.  Ahimelech  is  usually  held 
to  be  identical  also  >vith  Ahijah  the  son  of  Ahitub 
of  IS  14'-". 


ABIDING 


The  discrepancy  between  Mk  2^  and  1  S  21  f. 
has  been  sought  to  be  accounted  for  in  several 
ways.     It  may  readily  be  due  to  a  mere  lajpsus 


being  a  much  more  familiar  figure  than  his  father, 
just  as  in  Jer  2V  '  Jehoiakini '  is  a  slip  for  Zede- 
kiah.  It  is  not  impossible  that  father  and  son 
may  each  have  borne  both  names,  according  to 
Arab  usage,  Abiathar  corresponding  to  the  Arab 
kttnyah,  and  Ahimelech  being  the  ism  or  lakab,  or 
name  proper.  It  has  been  suggested  that  the 
reference  in  St.  Mark  is  not  to  1  S  21  at  all,  but 
to  some  later  unrecorded  incident,  such  as  might 
have  occurred  during  the  flight  from  Absalom. 
But  this  is  very  improbable.*  T.  H.  Weik. 

ABIDING.— Of  the  three  possible  renderings  of 
the  Greek /toK^  and /i^vu,  'remaining,  to  remain,' 
'dwelling,  to  dwell,'  'abiding,  to  abide,'  the 
last  is  the  most  satisfactory.  The  first  has  the 
advantage  of  being  akin  to  the  Greek  in  deriva- 
tion, but  it  is  too  passive  in  its  sense,  and  in  so 
far  as  it  includes  the  conception  of  expectation 
it  is  misleading ;  the  second  is  too  local,  and  is 
rather  the  fitting  rendering  of  /taroiKla,  KaroiK^oi ; 
the  last  is  an  adequate  though  not  a  perfect 
rendering.  'Mansions'  (RVm  'abiding-places')  is 
the  stately  rendering  (AV  and  RV),  through  the 
Vulg.  maiisioncs,  of  the  noun  in  Jn  14- ;  but  it  be- 
comes impossible  in  v.='  of  the  same  chapter  when 
the  translators  fall  back  on  'abode.'  Further,  in 
the  English  of  to-day  '  mansion '  suggests  merely  a 
building,  and  that  of  an  ostentatious  type.  Tfhe 
Scottish  'manse,'  self-contained,  modest,  and 
secure,  would  be  a  nearly  exact  equivalent  if  it 
carried  with  it  more  than  the  idea  of  a  dwelling- 
house  ;  yet  neither  it  nor  '  mansion  '  has  any  corre- 
spondent verb. 

Students  who  desire  to  get  at  the  full  meaning 
of  verb  or  noun  will  find  all  that  is  needful  in  the 
etymological  paragrapli  sub  voc.  n4vw  in  the  larger 
edition  of  Liddell  and  Scott's  Greek  Lexicon.  They 
will  discover  how  rich  in  language  product  is  the 
root  of  this  word.  The  inquiry  cannot  be  pursued 
further  here.  It  is  enough  to  say  that  locality 
enters  very  sliglitly  into  its  conception,  and  that 
what  is  dominant  is  ethical.  The  leading  idea  is 
that  of  steadfast  continuance.  This  is  apparent 
the  moment  one  turns  to  the  derivative  iiiro/jLovi) 
(cf.  Ro  2'),  the  term  of  Stoic  virtue  boldly  incor- 
porated and  transmuted  in  Christian  usage  and 
experience.  The  primitive  noun,  however  (iiovt)), 
reminds  Christians  more  clearly  of  the  sphere  in 
which  it  is  contained,  of  a  life  in  which  it  survives, 
of  a  power  not  its  own  on  which  it  dejiends,  and 
which  in  turn  it  exercises.  If,  as  will  be  shown, 
the  ethical  import  of  iUvi,j  and  fiovh  is  dominant  in 
the  Gospels,  the  instances  where  the  verb  has  a 
purely  local  sense,  the  sense  of  stopping  or  staying, 
may  be  dismissed.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  the 
instances  are  almost  entirely  confined  to  the 
Synoptists,  and  occur  but  in  twelve  passages ;  the 
use  of  the  noun  is  purely  Joliannine.  Only  twice 
in  the  Synoptists  does  the  verb  occur  in  relation  to 
])ersons,  viz.  Lk  24=3  in  the  patlietic  apiioal  of 
Cleopas  and  his  anonymous  comrade,  and  the 
gracious  response  of  the  risen  Christ;  and  even 
here  there  is  no  ethical  significance,  for  the  pre- 
positions which  link  the  verb  and  the  personal 
pronouns  imply  only  association  {ixehov  /leff'  rnxQn), 
or  joint  action  (eiirifKeev  toO  fieim^  avu  aiiToh). 

As  soon  as  the  student  turns  from  the  Synoptists 
to  the  Johannine  literature,  the  idea  of  'mansion' 
(one  could  wislx  it  were  a  theological  term)  becomes 
full,  luminous,  and  suggestive.  St.  John  uses  the 
verb  ix^vu  only  thrice  in  its  literal  sense  in  the 
•  Swcte  {St.  Mark,  ad  loc.)  suggests  that  the  clause  st!  ■  A/3i«9io 
«-px'ipix,  which  is  peculiar  to  Mark,  may  be  an  editorial  note. 


Gospel  (2'-  4*  10^") ;  he  seems  almost  jealously  to 
reserve  it  for  metaphorical,  i.c.ethical,  application. 
We  are  not  here  concerned  with  St.  John's  letters, 
but  it  is  pertinent  to  observe  that  fiiva  occurs  23 
times  therein,  while  it  is  used  in  the  Gosi)el  some 
35  times.  Moreover,  as  if  the  Evangelist  and 
letter- writer  would  not  suH'er  the  spiritual  point  to 
be  lost,  he  jierpetually  reminds  his  readers  and 
chDdren  of  the  sphere  of  '  mansion,'  and  the  source 
of  its  power.  With  a  singular  and  marked  uni- 
formity, he  employs  the  preposition  iv  in  connexion 
with  the  verb.  The  Evangelist  presses  the  idea  not 
only  of  intimate  relationship,  but  also  of  resultant 
power  and  blessing. 

It  is  to  be  observed  that,  until  we  reach  the 
great  discourses  in  the  chamber  and  on  the  way 
(chs.  14  and  15),  we  have  only  passing  hints  of 
the  nature  of  the  Abiding.  The  former  chapter 
unfolds  its  meaning.  The  difficulties  besetting  the 
interpretation  of  these  discourses  are  familiar  to 
all  students  of  the  Fourth  Gospel,  and  need  not  be 
dealt  with  here.  They  are  not  adequately  met  by 
references  to  the  subjectivity  or  mysticism  of  the 
Evangelist.  Our  modes  of  thought,  as  Bishop 
Westcott  reminds  us,*  follow  a  logical  sequence  ; 
Hebrew  modes  of  thought  follow  a  moral  sequence. 
The  sermon  to  the  Apostles  in  the  chamber,  especi- 
ally, bears  this  moral  impress  throughout,  and 
is  rightly  interpreted  as  the  complement  to  the 
Sermon  on  the  Mount.  But  while  the  connexion 
is  thus  somewhat  precarious  to  the  reader,  certain 
great  ideas  or  conceptions  of  the  Abiding  stand 
luminously  forth  for  the  devout  mind.  Here  is  set 
forth— (1)  the  Abiding  of  Christ  in  the  Father; 
(2)  the  Abiding  of  Christ  in  the  Church,  as  in 
the  individual  believer ;  (3)  the  issues  of  the 
Abiding. 

1.  The  Abiding  of  Christ  in  the  Father. — Here 
the  student  is,  indeed,  on  ground  most  holy.  He 
may  not  add  to  the  Lord's  words,  he  trembles  as 
he  ventures  to  interpret  them.  He  feels  with  the 
patriarch  that  this  place  in  the  Scriptures  is  dread- 
ful— full  of  a  holy  awe.  Thus  much,  however,  may 
be  said,  that  the  abiding  of  Christ  in  the  Father 
belongs  wholly  to  the  operation  and  energy  of  the 
Holy  Spirit.  The  keynote  of  this  truth  is  struck 
by  the  testimony  of  the  Baptist  in  the  jjreamble  of 
the  Gospel  (Jn  V-'-).  It  is  important  to  notice 
that  that  wliich  was  the  object  of  sight  to  tlie 
Baptist  was  not  merely  the  descent  of  the  Holy 
Spirit,  but  the  Abiding.  And  here  the  careful 
student  will  observe  that,  though  the  preposition 
used  in  these  verses  is  not  in  but  iiri,  yet  the 
emijloyment  of  the  latter  is  necessary  as  linking 
the  descent  and  the  continuous  indwelling  of  the 
Spirit  in  the  Son.  But  if  any  hesitation  remains 
as  to  the  view  that  the  character  and  sphere  of 
Christ's  abiding  in  the  Father  lies  in  and  through 
the  indwelling  Spirit,  it  must  disappear  on  con- 
sideration of  our  Lord's  words  (Jn  14-°),  '  At  that 
day  [the  day  of  realized  life']  ye  shall  come  to  know 
[by  the  Spirit  what  is  at  present  a  matter  of  faith 
only]  that  I  am  in  my  Father.'  The  thought  is 
inevitalily  linked  with  the  Spirit's  work  both  in 
Him  and  for  them.  When,  therefore,  the  Lord 
invites  His  omii  to  abide  in  His  love  (15"),  He  does 
not  iiicri'ly  iniiily  that  His  love  is  the  atmosphere 
of  tlnii  (li^i  iph-hip,  but,  as  St.  Augustinet  sug- 
gests, llr  iiniti's  them  to  abide  in  that  Holy 
Spirit  wliDse  love  as  fully  permeates  Him  as  it  is 
imperfectly  exhibited  in  His  disciples. 

2.  The  Abiding  of  Christ  in  the  Church,  (u-  in 
the  individual  believer. — Our  Lord's  teaching  as  to 
the  Abiding  in  Him  refers  even  more  closely  to 
the  Church  than  to  the  individual.  Jn  14  and  15 
are  penetrated   through  and  through   by  Pente- 


ABIJAH 


ABOMINATIOX  OF  DESOLATION* 


costal  tliouglit  ami  Pentecostal  exjiectations. 
Christ  looked  eagerly  forward  to  the  birthday  of 
the  Spirit-be."a-ing  body.  He  could  and  does, 
indeed,  fully  abide  in  the  heart  of  each  individual 
believer  J  but  that  believer  is  not  a  mere  unit 
standing  solitary  and  iinsupjiorted.  The  indivi- 
dual disciple  will  be  a  terrible  loser  unless  he 
realize  his  incorporation,  his  oneness  -with  the 
universal  liody,  the  body  of  Christ.  But  as  if  to 
make  sure  that  this  great  truth  should  never 
escape  His  own  down  the  ages,  Christ  introduces 
the  great  figure  of  the  Vine  and  the  branches  ( 15'"'^). 
The  vine  was  ah'eady  the  symbol  of  the  ancient 
Church ;  *  Clirist  speaks  of  Himself  as  the  true, 
the  ideal  Vine.  But  it  is  as  a  formula  incomplete 
without  the  complement  of  v.^  '  I  am  the  Vine,  ye 
are  the  branches.'  As  a  vine  is  inconceivable 
without  branches,!  so  in  all  devoutness  it  may  be 
said  He  is  inconceivable  without  His  disciples. 
Again,  they  draw  their  life  from  abiding  in  Him. 
The  life  may  be  imperfectly  realized,  the  fruitage 
may  be  disappointing,  it  may  be  nothing  but 
leaves  (Mt  21'") ;  the  task  of  discipline,  or  of 
cleansing  {Kaeaipuv,  Jn  15='-)  is  in  the  hands  of  the 
Great  Husbandman.  Tlius  as  in  ancient  Israel 
union  with  tlie  Church  nation  was  the  condition  of 
life,  so  in  the  new  dispensation  the  condition  of 
life  was  to  be  the  abiding  in  Christ.  As  apart 
from  the  vine  the  branches  are  useless  since  the 
living  sap  is  therein  no  longer,  so  separated  from 
Christ  there  can  be  no  productiveness  in  Christian 
lives.  St.  John  bears  record  of  one  more  thought 
of  the  highest  consolation  to  Christian  liearts. 
There  is  a  true  analogy  and  correspondence  between 
the  abiding  of  Christ  in  the  Father  and  the  abiding 
of  believers  in  Him  (15'°).  Our  abidings  in  Christ, 
often  so  sadly  brief,  uncertain,  precarious,  through 
the  consequences  of  sin,  have  still  their  sublime 
counterpart  in  the  abiding  of  Christ  in  the 
Father. 

3.  The  issues  of  the  Abiding. —We  have  seen  that 
the  Abiding  finally  depends  upon  the  Spirit's  work, 
whether  in  the  Church  or  in  the  individual  heart. 
The  first  fruit  of  that  Spirit  is  love.  The  Spirit 
moves  in  this  sphere.  He  manifests  and  expresses 


Himself  in  love 
the  indwelling,  n 
of  a  fruitful  i- 
Johannine  teaih 
the  hi>nrt<  of  )..  ' 
mental  :in,  , 

(1  Co  1.;     I 

action.     >i .  .1 

truth  wliLU  uu  > 
strictly  correlatei 


Thus  lr)\e  furnishes  the  test  of 
truly  .1^  it  contains  the  pledge 
II'.  A' ri'idiiig,  moreover,  to 
■J.  l!ii<  \i.vc  spread  abroad  in 
^■;-  i-  ii..t  .-i  stagnant  or  senti- 
''I  I  li"  I  :i~;il  or  abiding  virtues 
-I  I"  lause  of  its  fruitful 
n  I  iii~  another  aspect  of  this 
J^^^  iliai.  oljcdience  and  love  are 
(Jn  15'").  This  love  is  seen  in 
action.  It  doeth  the  will,  and  the  reward  of  such 
loving  obedience  is  final  and  complete.  Those 
who  in  this  dutiful  and  allcctionate  temper  keep 
the  commandments  are  raised  hy  Christ  from  the 
base  of  bond-service  to  tlie  height  of  friendship.  It 
is  enough — the  fiat  has  gone  forth— 'such  ones  I 
have  called  friends. 'J 


Christ,  219;  J.  II.  Jowett,  Apostolic  Opt 

Westcott,  Peterborough  Sermons,  40,  ra  :   s^r   \     la,  i',v,.r,,|, 

Christian  Service,  iG;  O.B.  Stevens,  J' I  1  /  '  -. 

ABIJAH  (n;5H,-A;3id,'Jah  is  in>  i,--:  '  .  ■  r-on- 
probably  ^^■ithout  theparticulari/iu-  I  I  Mill. uu.  Jail 
is  father ').-!.  Son  of  Relioboan.  (Ml  1  )  l.v  Maa.ah 
(2Ch  ir-"— see  art.  'Maacah'  No.  3iii  llastiu-^-  DB 
iii.  180).  Abijah  reigned  over  Jiulali  tioiu  about 
B.C.  920,  and  the  impressions  mado  by  him  are 
given  with  some  variety  in  1  K  15-'  and  by  a  later 
tradition  in  2  Ch  IS*--.  His  name  is  introduced 
by  St.  Matthew  simply  as  a  link  in  the  pedigree, 

•  Ho8 101,  Is  5iir.,  Jer  221. 

t  Westcotf  s  Commentao'.  m  loco.  }  Jn  1616. 


in  which  it  is  shown  that  Jesus  was  both  of  Jewish 
and  of  royal  stock. 

2.  A  descendant  of  Eleazar,  son  of  Aaron.  The 
name  was  attached  to  the  eighth  of  the  twenty- 
four  courses  into  which  the  priests  were  alleged 
to  have  been  di^■ided  by  David  (1  Ch  24'").  Mem- 
bers of  only  four  courses  seem  to  have  returned 
from  the  Captivity  (Neli  T-^-^,  Ezr  2=«-="  10'»--). 
According  to  Jerus.  Talm.  Taanith,  iv.  68,  these 
men  were  divided  into  twenty-four  courses  with  a 
view  to  restore  the  ancient  arrangement.  The 
authority  for  this  statement  is  not  of  the  best 
kind ;  but  the  statement  itself  is  substantially 
confirmed  by  Neh  12'-',  where  twenty-two  groups 
are  referred  to  (in  Neh  12'-'-'i  the  number  has  fallen 
to  twenty-one,  and  two  of  the  courses  are  grouped 
under  a  single  representative),  and  by  Ezr  8^  where 
two  other  priestly  families  are  mentioned.  Slight 
changes  were  probably  made  intheclassiticationdur- 
ing  the  process  of  the  resettlement  of  the  country ; 
but  by  the  time  of  the  Chronicler  the  arrangement 
seems  to  have  become  fixed.  The  course  of  Abijah 
is  not  mentioned  amongst  those  that  returned  from 
the  Exile ;  but  in  one  of  the  later  rearrangements 
the  name  was  attached  to  a  course  that  afterwards 
included  Zacharias  (Lk  1-^).  Each  course  was  on 
duty  for  a  week  at  a  time,  but  all  were  expected 
to  officiate  as  needed  at  the  three  great  annual 
festivals.  It  is  not  possible  with  our  present 
materials  to  determine  exactly  how  the  various 
services  were  divided  amongst  the  members  of  a 
course,  or  at  what  times  in  the  year  Zacharias 
would  be  on  duty.  Nor  does  his  inclusion  In  the 
course  of  Abijah  cany  with  it  lineal  descent 
through  that  line  from  Aaron.         E.  W.  Moss. 

ABILENE. — Mentioned  in  Lk  3'  as  the  district 
of  which  Lysanias  was  tetrarch  in  the  15th  year 
of  Tiberius.  It  was  called  after  its  capital  Abila, 
situated  on  the  Barada,  about  18  miles  from  Dam- 
ascus, and  represented  by  the  modem  village  of 
Suk.  The  identity  of  Siik  Avith  Abila  is  confirmed 
by'  a  Roman  rock-inscription  to  the  west  of  the 
town.  According  to  popular  tradition,  the  name 
AbUa  is  derived  from  Abel,  who  was  buried  by 
Cain  in  a  tomb  which  is  still  pointed  out  in  the 
neighliourhood.  Little  is  known  of  the  history  of 
Abilene  at  the  time  referred  to  by  St.  Luke ;  but 
when  Tiberius  died  in  A.D.  37,  some  ten  years 
later,  the  tctrarchy  of  Lysanias  was  bestowed  by 
Cali-ula  on  Herod  Agrippa  I.  (Jos.  Ant.  XTOI.  vi. 
10),  ami  this  grant  was  confirmed  in  A.l).  41  by 
("laudius  (XIX.  V.  1 ;  BJ  11.  xi.  5).  On  the  death 
of  Agripjia  I.  (A.D.  44)  his  dominions  passed  into 
the  charge  of  Roman  procurators  (Ant.  XIX.  ix.  2; 
BJ  II.  xi.  6),  but  in  A.D.  53  .some  parts  of  them, 
including  Abilene,  were  granted  by  Claudius  to 
Agrippa  II.  (Ant.  XX.  vii.  1 ;  BJ  II.  xii.  8),  and 
remained  in  his  possession  till  his  death  in  A.D. 
100.     See  LV.SANIAS. 

LiTERATTKE.— Schiircr.  BJP  i.  ii.  3350.;  Rohinson,  Later 
Blip  479 II. ;  Porter,  Giant  Cities  of  Bashan,  352  f. ;  Conder, 
Tent  Work  in  Pal.  127 ;  SWP,  Special  Papers. 

James  Patrick. 
ABIUD  ('A(3ioi}S).— A  son  of  Zerubbabel,  Mt  1". 
The  name  apjiears  in  the  OT  in  the  form  Abihud 
(T.Tr.^j  '  Father  is  glory'),  1  Ch  S". 

ABOMINATION  OF  DESOLATION  (to  jiSe-Xvy^a. 
TTJs  £>wi«us).— This  phrase  is  found  in  the  NT 
only  in  Mt  24'=  and  Mk  13'^  in  Ijoth  cases  forming 
part  of  the  passage  in  which  Christ  predicts  the 
woes  to  come  on  the  Jews,  culminating  in  the  de- 
struction of  .lerusalem.  St.  Jlarks  words,  A\hich 
.are  prob<abIy  moreex.act  th.an  those  of  St.  M.atthew, 
are  :  orav  Si  (Stitc  t6  fid4Xvyfm  t^s  fpij/uiiirtus  effXTjKira 
Swov  ov  Set  (6  di'oyir'cio-KiD;'  voelrw).  Tore  oi  (v  tJ  'louSaff 
(pivyiruaav  eii  ra  6pri,  k.t.X.     Tliree  points  in  this 


AHOMIKATION  OF  DESOLATION 


ABOVE  AND  BELOW 


irs  three  times 
■p-nixuxnav),  IPI 


account  are  to  bo  noticed :  ( 1 )  the  change  of  gender  * 
tA  §Si\vyti.a~!:aT-nKbTa  (cf.  2  Th  2«-',  Kev  21'-') ;  (2) 
the  'editorial  note'  o  avayiviinTKuiv  voelroi,  calling 
special  attention  to  the  prophecy  (cf.  Dn  9-",  Rev 
2'  13'") ;  (3)  the  command  to  flee  to  the  mountains, 
which  seems  to  have  been  oljeyed  by  the  Christians 
who  escaped  to  I'ella  (Euseb.  HE  iii.  5  ;  Epiphan. 
Hmres.  xxix.  7).  St.  Matthew  characteristically 
adds  the  words  (absent  from  thebest  MSS  [NliL]  of 
St.  Mark)  t6  pitOif  5io  AaviijX  tov  irpo<priTov ;  substi- 
tutes the  neuter  fo-rcis  for  the  masc.  earTjKira  ;  and 
instead  of  the  quite  general  phrase  Sirov  oi  Set  has 
the  more  definite  «>  ri-n-q!  ayiiti,—an  expre.ssion  which 
may  refer  to  the  Temple  (cf.  Ac  6"^  2128),  i,„t,  (with- 
out the  article)  may  mean  nothing  more  than  'on 
holy  ground.'  To  the  Jews  all  Jerusalem  (and, 
Indeed,  all  Palestine)  was  holy  (2  Mac  1'  3').  St. 
Luke,  writing  most  probably  after  the  dastrnction 
of  Jerusalem,  omits  the  '  editorial  note ' ;  and  for 
OTOi/  i'OTjre  TO  pSe'Xvyixa  ttjs  cpi]|jiucrcu;  substitutes 
oTaf  Id-qre  KVK\ov|jievT|V  viro  o-TpaToireSuv  'lepov- 
o-aXirJij.  (21-°). 

The  phrase  we  arc  considerin 
in  the  LXX  of  Daniel :  t  9"  {pd. 
(/35.  (p^niiaeus)  and   12"  (of.  »"),  and  is  cjuoted 

1  Mac,  1  '■•.  The  original  rpfcrcnce  is  clearly  to  the 
ilesecration  of  (he Temple  liy  the  soldiers  of  Antio- 
chns  Epiplianes,  the  ceasing  of  the  daily  burnt- 
oliering,  and  the  erection  fif  an  idol-altar  upon  the 
great  Altar  of  Sacrifice  in  B.C.  168  (1  Mac  l^^" ; 
Jos.  Ant.  XII.  V.  4,  BJ  I.  i.  1).  Thus  it  is  plain 
that  Christ,  in  quoting  the  words  of  Daniel, 
intends  to  foretell  a  desecration  of  the  Temple  (or 
perhaps  of  the  Holy  City)  resembling  that  of 
Antiochus,  and  resulting  in  the  destriiction  of  the 
national  life  and  religion.  Jo.sephus  {Ant.  x.  xi.  7) 
draws  a  similar  parallel  between  the  Jewish  mis- 
fortunes under  Antiochus  and  the  desolation  caused 
by  the  Romans  (6  AaWijXos  Kal  irepl  Trjs  'Puifiatuv 
■qye/xanlas  aviypa\j/(,  Kal  Sti  Ott'  aiiTuv  dpTuxuie-qaeTai). 
But  the  precise  reference  is  not  so  clear. 

(1)  Bleek,  Alford,  Mansel,  and  others  explain  it 
9f  the  desecration  of  the  Temple  by  the  Zealot,s 
just  before  the  investment  of  Jerusalem  by  Titus 
(Jos.  BJ  IV.  iii.  6-8,  vi.  3).  Having  seized  the 
Temple,  they  made  it  a  stronghold,  and  'entered 
the  sanctuary  with  |iolluted  feet'  {iJ-ep.ia<Tpi.&ois  to?! 
iroal  Taprituav  €is  rd dyiof).  In  <i]i]iosil  ion  l<i  .Vnanus, 
they  set  up  as  high  priest  one   rii.niiii.is,  'a  man 

not  only  unworthy  of   tin.'   Iji.h    inir^ih |,  li„t 

ignorantiof  what  the  high  priolhoo.l  \>;is'  (dvijp  ov 
/i.6vov  drai'ios  apxifptivi  dAX'  ovo'  cVio-ra/ifcos  <raipQs  rl 
ttot'  )>  dppcpuiavpij).  The  Temple  precincts  were 
deliled  with  blood,  and  Ananus  was  murdered. 
His  murder,  says  .Josephus,  was  the  beginning  of 
the  capture  of  _  the  city  {ouk  &!>  d^dproi^i  3'  ciVibK 
dXwfffw;  dp^ai  ry  7r6Aei  rdf  'Avdfov  6dvaTov).  In  sun- 
port  of  this  view  it  is  ursjed  (r/)  that  the  'little 
Apocalyiiso'  CJ  Tb  2''-,  .-i  passag.-  .■losely  rosem- 
blm.i;  llll^)^l..;,|lv,.,ll,l,.,,||,l,■,t,.s„./,•,^,,v/,  ^ilioslasr- 
(i)!!..!  llH.u,,,,],,  ■■Au/\>:,mr\,Y---,ioAr-„ai,: 
pro|H.Tl.yu-,.,l„„l  nli,lMl,,liyi„lh.al,Mnu-l,butof 
uluhiUy  o.  lals,,  \vor,ship  ,n/o/,/n/  4y  .Jar.s  {I  K  11'', 

2  1v  23'-',  Ezk  o'l);  (<■)  that  there  was  among  the 
Jews  a  tradition  to  the  ellect  that  Jerusalem  would 
be  destroyed  if  their  own  hanils  should  pollute  the 
Temple  of  God  {eav  xeipes  oi/,e?ai  Trpo/iidvwo-i  t4  toD 
e^ov  T(/j.ivos,  Jos.  BJ  IV.  VI.  3) 


person   I  nt  i   m(A-«a-^^  „)    m     \  ,t]    in  /j»  ^   Ti  i 
l')05,  p   47J  t 

t  The  Hebrew  te\t  and  its  meanmjr  are  doubtful  (s( 
Bevan  iia,i„<,  p  192)  Our  Lord  adopted  the  curre 
with  which  the  LXX  had  made  the  Jews  faraihar. 


(2)  Others  (Bengel,  Swete,  Weiss)  explain  it 
by  reference  to  the  investment  of  Jerusalem  by 
the  Roman  armies.  A  modification  of  this  view 
is  that  of  H.  A.  W.  Meyer,  who  explains  it  of  the 
'doings  of  the  heathen  conquerors  during  and 
after  the  capture  of  the  Temple.'  When  the  city 
was  taken,  sacrifices  were  ottered  in  the  Temple 
to  the  standards  {BJ  VI.  vi.  1,  cf.  Tertullian, 
Apol.  16).  Between  the  first  appearance  of  the 
Roman  armies  before  Jerusalem  ( A.  D.  66)  and  the 
final  investment  by  Titus  (just  before  Passover 
A.D.  7U),  there  would  be  ample  time  for  flight  'to 
the  mountains.'  Even  after  the  final  investment 
there  would  be  opportunities  for  '  those  in  Judsea ' 
to  escape.  St.  l^uke's  words  (21=")  are  quoted  in 
support  of  this  view. 

(3)  Theodoret  ami  other  early  Commentators 
refer  the  prophecy  t<j  the  attempt  of  Pilate  to  set 
up  efhgies  of  the  emperor  in  Jerusalem  {BJ  II. 
ix.  2). 

(4)  Spitta  (Offcnb.  dcsJoh.  493)  thinks  it  has  to 
do  with  the  order  of  Caligula  to  erect  in  the 
Temple  a  statue  of  himself,  to  which  Divine 
honours  were  to  be  jiaid  {Ant.  XVIII.  viii.  8).  This 
order,  though  never  executed,  caused  widespread 
apprehension  among  the  Jews. 

(5)  Jerome  (Commentary  on  Mt  24)  suggests 
that  the  words  may  be  understoo<l  of  the  eques- 
trian statue  of  Hadrian,  which  in  his  time  stood 
on  the  site  of  the  Holy  of  Holies.  Similarly, 
Chrysostoni  and  others  refer  them  to  the  statue  of 
Titus  erected  on  the  site  of  the  Temple. 

(6)  P.oussct  treats  the  pas.sage  as  strictly  escha- 
tological,  and  .as  referring  to  an  Antichrist  who 
should  appear  in  the  'last  days.'* 

Of  these  views  (1)  and  <2)  are  the  most  probable. 
Considerations  of  chronology  make  (3),  (4),  and  (5) 
more  than  doubtful,  while  the  warnings  that  the 
events  predicted  should  come  to  pass  soon  (Mt 
9433.  w  Mk  13-»-™,  Lk2129-»)  and  the  command  to 
flee  '  to  the  mountains '  seem  fatal  to  (6).  Between 
(1)  and  (2)  the  choice  is  not  easy,  though  the 
balance  of  evidence  is  on  the  whole  in  favour  of  (1). 
St.  Luke's  language  {irav  iStitc  KVK\ovii.4vqv  lnr6 
arpaTowiSav  'Upov<Ta\rifj.)  is  not  decisive.  He  may 
not  have  intended  his  words  to  be  an  exact  repro- 
duction of  Christ's  words  .so  much  as  an  accommo- 
dation of  them  which  would  be  readily  understood 
by  his  Gentile  readers. 


LlTERATCRt: 

Antichrlst(\y 
The  Parens, „ 
Encyc.  BihI.  { 


Mt  24  (ISrn);  Bou 


The  Hook  of  Danid,  ad  luc.  H.  W.  FULFOHD. 

ABOVE  AND  BELOW.-L  As cosmological  terms. 
Like  all  similnr  cxpirBsinns  (ascent,  de.scent,  etc.), 
thoy  iiri--(  iilcil  to  i.iily  ages  a  clear-cut  image, 
which  h;i>  .Ii-,i|ipraic.l  with  the  rise  of  modern 
aslKjiioiiiy.  Iha,  ihis  IS  rather  a  gain  than  a  loss. 
Here,  as  in  so  many  other  cases,  the  later  know- 
ledge is  an  aid  to  faith.  At  the  beginning  of  the 
Christian  era  the  earth  was  still  regarded  as  a 
fixed  body  placed  at  the  centre  of  the  Universe, 
with  the  heavens  surrounding  it  as  vast  spheies. 
But  v\  e  know  now  that  it  is  only  a  small  planet 
revolving  lound  the  sun,  which  also  has  a  'solar 
«  n  so  immi  Use  and  obseuie  that  it  is  not  yet 
I  II  I  «  h lie  the  whole  sideieal  system— of 
I       11  I.  Ihtion  foims  a  'meie  speck'— is 

I \.  ments'  too  complex  to  be  under- 

(I     n    It  UTinann,  Chevne)  hold  the  pi«<;acre  to  be 
1  ut    I  in  111  1  peiid  lit  Jewish  (01  Jcwi'sh  Chiisti  111)  Vpocihpse 


in 

s-pels 

But  it 

s  111  all  the 

bs 

intial 

bisi^. 

in   thi. 

writ 

ABOVE  AND  BELOW 


ABRAHAM 


stood.  Wliile,  therefore,  '  above  and  below '  (like 
'  east,'  '  west,'  '  north,'  '  south ')  would  have  for  the 
ancients  an  absolute  and  cosmic,  they  can  have  for 
us  only  a  relative  and  phenomenal,  significance.  We 
still  use  the  old  terras,  just  as  we  still  speak  of  the 
rising  sun,  but  we  do  so  with  a  new  interpretation. 
They  have  no  meaning  in  a  boundless  Universe 
save  in  relation  to  our  observation,  and  appearances 
are  misleading.  But  these  wider  views  of  tlie  Uni- 
verse should  lielp  us  to  realize  that  all  language 
involving  conceptions  of  time  and  space  is  utterly 
inadequate  to  express  spiritual  realities. 

2.  Kor  the  spiritual  significance  of  these  and 
kindred  terras  we  turn  first  of  all  to  Jn  S^-  *'■  **. 
Manifestly,  'I  am  from  above'  (^k  tui/  d>'ai)  =  'I 
came  forth  and  am  come  from  God ' ;  and  clearly 
also,  '  Ye  are  from  beneath '  (in  tCjv  Karu)  = '  Ye  are 
of  this  world,'  'Ye  are  of  your  father,  the  devil.' 
'  The  source  of  My  life  is  above,  i.e.  in  My  Father; 
ye  draw  your  inspiration  from  below,  i.e.  from  a 
malign  spirit  of  darkness.'  This  is  the  spiritual 
significance  of  'above  and  below.'  To  be  'born 
again,'  or  'born  from  above'  (&vueev)  (Jn  3'),  is  to 
be  '  bom  of  God  '  (Jn  1").  To  receive  power  '  from 
above '  (S-vadev),  as  in  the  case  of  Pilate  (Jn  19"), 
is  to  receive  it  from  God  (Ro  13').  The  wisdom 
which  is  from  beneath  is  '  earthly,  sensual,  devilish ' 
( Ja  3'^) ;  while  tlie  wisdom  which  is  '  from  above ' 
'  is  of  God '  (cf.  P  3").  Tlie  following  passages 
may  also  be  consulted:  Jn  3"-='  6^  16=8  20", 
KolO«-^Col3l•=. 

3.  But,  as  has  been  already  suggested,  in  using 
these  and  all  similar  terms,  it  is  iiii|i(irlant  to  bear 
in  mind  their  inadequacy  and  limitations.  Not 
merely  has  theology  suffered  to  an  extent  that  is 
little  realized,  but  the  spiritual  life  of  thousands 
has  been  impoverished  through  a  tenacious  clinging 
to  an  order  of  ideas  in  a  region  where  they  no 
longer  apply.  The  difficulty,  of  course,  is  that 
we  must  employ  such  categories  of  thought  even 
though  we  are  compelled  to  recognize  their  inade- 
quacy. 'A  danger  besets  us  in  the  gravest  shape 
when  we  endeavour  to  give  distinctness  to  the 
unseen  world.  We  transfer,  and  we  must  transfer, 
the  language  of  earth,  the  imagery  of  succession 
in  time  and  space,  to  an  order  of  being  to  which, 
as  far  as  we  know,  it  is  wholly  inapplicable.  We 
cannot  properly  employ  such  terms  as  "  before  "  and 
"  after,"  "  liere  "  and  "  there,"  of  God  or  of  Spirit. 
AH  is,  is  at  once,  is  present,  to  Him ;  and  the 
revelations  of  the  Risen  Lord  seem  to  be  designed 
in  part  to  teach  us  that,  though  He  resumed  all 
that  belongs  to  the  perfection  of  man's  nature.  He 
was  not  bound  by  the  conditions  which  we  are 
forced  to  connect  with  it '  ( Westcott,  The  Historie 
Faith,  p.  74).  We  invoke  'our  Father  in  heaven,' 
not  as  One  who  is  divided  from  us  by  immeasurable 
tracts  of  space,  but  as  far  beyond  our  ignorance 
and  sin — infinitely  above  us,  yet  unspeakably  near. 
'  Speak  to  Him  thou  tor  He  hears,  and  Spirit  >vith  Spirit  can 

Closer  is  He  than  breathing,  and  nearer  than  hands  and  feet.' 
So,  when  the  Apostle  bids  us  'seek  those  things 
which  are  above,  where  Christ  sitteth  at  the  right 
hand  of  God'  (Col  3'),  we  must  shake  off  the  in- 
cumbent thought  of  immeasurable  distances  to  be 
crossed.  And  when  we  think  of  Christ's  Ascension 
into  heaven,  we  must  not  conceive  of  it  as  a  flight 
into  some  far-oti'  region,  but  as  His  passing  into  a 
state  of  existence  (of  which  we  gain  hints  during 
the  great  forty  days)  which  we  can  describe  only 
by  employing  words  which,  in  the  very  act  of  using 
them,  we  see  to  be  utterly  inadequate.  He  has 
gone  into  a  state  which  we  cannot  even  imagina- 
tively picture  to  ourselves  without  robbing  it  of 
much  of  its  truth. 


wishes  to  pursue  the  subject  of  the  inadequacy  of  the  cate- 
gories of  the  understanding,  and  of  the  concepts  of  time 
and  space  in  relation  to  spiritual  realities,  he  will  find  an 
'    Held  of  investigation  by  bcginninj:  with  Kant's  Critiqu 


of   the    Pure    lieast 


and   then, 


following 
orks  of  I'hilosophy.  He 
will  find  two  valuable  chapters  (vi.  and  vii.)  in  Caird's  Intro- 
duetion  to  the  Philosophy  of  Religion,  dealing  with  the  sub- 
ject. Arthur  Jenkinson. 

ABRAHAM.— It  is  noteworthy  that  while  in 
the  Synoptic  Gospels  references  to  the  patriarch 
Abraham  are  comparatively  frequent,  and  his  per- 
sonality and  relation  to  Israel  form  part  of  the 
historical  background  which  they  presuppose,  and 
of  the  thoughts  and  conceptions  which  are  their 
national  inheritance,  in  the  Gospel  of  St.  John  his 
name  does  not  appear  except  in  ch.  8.  In  the 
Synoptists  he  is  the  great  historical  ancestor  of 
the  Jews,  holding  a  unique  place  in  their  reve- 
rence and  affections ;  he  is  their  father,  as  they  are 
each  of  them  his  children  (Mt  3"  ||  Lk  3',  Lk  13'6 
16=4.30  199).  To  this  the  introductory  title  of  St. 
Matthew's  Gospel  testifies ;  it  is  '  the  book  of  the 
generation  of  Jesus  Christ,  the  son  of  David,  the 
son  of  Abraham.'  And  in  the  genealogical  record 
tliat  follows,  his  name  stands  at  the  head  (Mt  1-), 
and  through  equally  graduated  stages,— epochs 
marked  by  the  name  of  Israel's  most  famous  king, 
and  by  the  nation's  most  bitter  humiliation  (v."), 
— the  ascent  of  the  Christ  is  traced  to  the  great 
fountain  and  source  of  all  Jewish  privilege  and  life. 
It  is  otherwise  in  the  genealogy  of  St.  Luke ;  and 
the  difference  indicates  the  difterent  standpoints  of 
Jewish  and  Gentile  thought.  Here  the  historian 
records  no  haltiiigplaces  in  his  genealogy,  but 
carries  it  back  in  an  uninterrupted  chain,  of  which 
the  patriarch  Abraham  forms  but  one  link  (Lk  3**), 
to  its  ultimate  source  in  God.  See  art.  Gene- 
alogies. 

Other  references  in  the  Synoptists  are  on  the 
same  plane  of  thought,  and  presuppose  a  prevalent 
and  accepted  faith,  which  not  only  knew  Abraham 
as  the  forefather  and  founder  of  their  national  life 
in  the  far-off  ages  of  the  past,  but  realized  that  in 
some  sort  or  other  he  was  still  alive ;  and  it  was 
believed  that  to  be  with  him,  to  be  received  into 
his  bosom  (Lk  16"),  was  the  highest  felicity  that 
awaited  the  righteous  man  after  death.  Both  St. 
INIatthew  and  St.  Mark  bear  emphatic  testimony 
to  this  belief,  in  their  narrative  of  the  incident  of 
our  Lord's  solution  of  the  dilemma  presented  by 
the  Sadducees  with  their  tale  of  the  seven  brothers. 
Jesus  quotes  Ex  3«  in  proof  of  Ihe  fact  of  the 
patriarchs'  resurrection  and  continued  existence 
(Mt  22^=  II  Mk  12=«  Lk  20^),  inasmuch  as  the  Divine 
sovereignty  here  asserted  over  Abraham,  Isaac,  and 
Jacob  necessarily  implies  the  conscious  life  of  those 
who  are  its  subjects.  In  the  Songs  of  Mary  and 
Zacharias,  again  (Lk  1«-"- «»-"»),  Abraham  is  the 
forefather  of  the  race,  the  recipient  of  the  Divine 
promises  (confirmed  by  an  oath,  Lk  1")  of  mercy 
anil  goodwill  to  himself  and  his  descendants  (cf. 
Gal  3'"- '»,  He  6",  Ac  7",  Ro  4") ;  and  his  name  is 
a  iilid'c  tli.it  tlic  same  mercy  will  not  overlook  or 
eeas.'  ("i.  -air  fnr  liis  children  (Lk  1«).  And,  finally, 
to  1h'  with  Al.ialiam  and  his  great  sons,  to  'sit 
down  with  Abraham  and  Isaac  and  Jacob  in  the 
kingdom  of  heaven'  (Mt  8"),  is  the  desire  and  re- 
ward of  the  faithful  Israelite.  This  reward,  how- 
ever, Christ  teaches,  is  not  confined  to  the  Jews, 
the  sons  of  Abraham  according  to  the  flesh,  still 
less  is  it  one  to  wliirl,  tli.y  Ikim-  any  right  by 
virtue  of  the  mere  l.i.  i  ..i  |  li.N-i.al  descent  from 
him  ;  it  is  one  that  will  I..  .  iij..>.a  l.y  'many  faith- 
ful  ones  from  other  laml-,,  ivjii  tu  the  exclusion  of 
the  '  sons  of  the  kingdom,'  if  they  prove  themselves, 
like  His  present  opponents,  faithless  and  unworthy 

The  expression  '  Abraham's  bosom '  (Lk  10")  or 


ABRAHAM 


ABSOLUTIOlSr 


'bosoms'  (v.-')*  is  liardly  to  be  understood  as  con- 
veying the  idea  of  an  eminent  or  unusual  degree  of 
happiness.  It  is  practically  equivalent  to  '  Para- 
dise.' And  tlie  new  condition  of  blessedness  in 
which  Lazarus  finds  himself  is  pre-eminent  only  in 
the  sense  that  it  is  so  striking  a  reversal  of  the 
relations  previously  existing  between  Dives  and 
himself.  The  paralile  says  nothing  of  any  superior 
piety  or  faith  exhibited  by  Lazarus,  which  might 
win  for  him  a  more  exalted  position  than  others. 
As  far  as  his  present  and  past  are  concerned,  it  but 
sets  forth  retributive  justice  redressing  for  liim  and 
Dives  alike  the  unequal  balance  of  earth.  '  Abra- 
ham's bosom,'  like  tlie  Hades  in  which  the  rich 
man  lifts  up  his  eyes,  is  part  of  the  figurative  or 
pictorial  setting  of  the  parable,  and  indicates  no 
more  than  a  haven  of  repose  and  felicity,  the  home 
and  resting-place  of  the  righteous  with  Abraham, 
who  is  the  typical  example  of  righteousness.  The 
parable  is  on  the  plane  of  popular  belief,  and  of  set 
jiurpose  employs  the  imagery  which  would  be  most 
familiar  anil  intelligible  to  the  hearers,  t 

In  conformity  with  the  general  character  of  St. 
John's  Gospel,  the  references  to  Abraham  there 
would  seenvto  imply  a  more  mystical,  less  matter 
of  fact  and  as  it  were  prosaic  manner  of  regarding 
the  great  patriarch.  He  is  spoken  of  in  the  8th 
chapter  alone,  in  the  course  of  a  discussion  with  Jews 
who  are  said  to  be  believers  in  Jesus  (v.^').  Here 
also  Abraham  is  the  father  of  the  Jews,  and  they 
are  his  children,  his  seed  ( vv.^'-  39.  S6) .  and  this  posi- 


tion they  claim  with  pride  (vv.^' 


It 


name  and  positi( 


ever,  which  Christ  declares 


belied  by  their  conduct,  in  that,  tliough  nomi- 
nally Abraham's  seed,  they  do  not  Abraham's  works, 
in  particular  when  they  conceive  and  plot  the  death 
of  an  innocent  man  (vv.^"-  ™).  To  the  charge  itself 
they  have  no  answer,  except  to  reassert  their  son- 
ship,  in  this  instance  of  God  Himself  (v.'"'),  and  to 
repeat  the  oflensive  imputation  of  demoniacal  pos- 
session (v.''-).  But  with  almost  startling  abruptness, 
taking  advantage  of  a  phrase  quietly  introduced, 
which  they  interpret  to  imply  freedom  from  physi- 
cal death  for  those  who  accept  Christ's  teaching, 
they  interrupt  with  the  assertion  that  Abraham 
died  '  and  the  prophets '  (v.=-),  in  apparent  contra- 
diction to  the  tenor  and  assumption  of  the  language 
which  a  moment  before  they  had  employed.  Pro- 
bably they  meant  no  more  than  that  he  and  they, 
like  all  other  men,  had  passed  through  the  gate  of 
deatli  which  terminates  life  on  eartli  ;  and  were 
more  intent  on  gaining  a  dialectic  advantage  than 
on  weighing  the  implications  of  their  own  words. 
But,  in  spite  of  them,  fcir  the  few  moments  that  are 
left  the  discourse  preserves  tlie  high  level  of  other- 
worldliness,  to  which  Christ's  last  words  have 
raised  it ;  and  gives  occasion  for  one  of  the  most 
striking  and  emphatic  assertions  in  which  He  is 
recorded  to  have  passed  beyond  the  boundaries  and 
limitations  of  mere  earthly  experience.  Abraham 
has  seen  His  day  (v.*'').  And  liy  silence  He  con- 
cedes and  affirms  the  half-indignant,  half-con- 
temptuous and  protesting  question  of  the  Jews ; 
He  has  seen  Abraham,  and  is  greater  even  than 
their  father  (vv.*'-  ").  The  climax  is  reached  in 
v.'*, — in  a  brief  sentence,  which,  if  it  did  not  bear 
so  evidently  the  stamp  of  simplicity  and  truth, 
would  be  said  to  have  been  constructed  with  the 
most  consummate  skill  and  the  finest  toucli  of 
artistic  feeling  and  insight.  'Before  Abraham 
came  into  being,' — the  speaker  gathers  up  and 


Chrys.  Bom.  XL  ■ 

\  On  the  phrase  '  Abrali; 
.  461  if.,  and  the  refert-in 
:  Talm.  iii.  p.  167 fl.;  St.  - 


I'ri-noh,  Pambles'i^, 
ihlfoot,  Hora  Hell. 
!/ir  New  Testament^ 
.    Cf.  also  Salmond 


utilizes  Jewish  belief  in  its  past  and  reverence  for 
its  head,  — '  I  am.'  Abraham  iyivero;  Christ  is. 
Tliu^  «as  ( i.m  I  yed  the  answer  to  their  question, 
'All  Ukmi  uir:iiiT  ?' (v.^') ;  and  thus  was  reasserted 
with  ciMpliasis  the  measureless  distance  between 
Himself  and  the  greatest  of  the  Jews,  and  a 
fortiori,  as  it  would  appear  to  the  company  around, 
of  the  whole  human  race. 

It  is  remarkable  and  suggestive  that  in  the  only  notice  of  the 
patriarch  Jacob  that  is  contained  in  the  Fourth  Gospel,  ch. 
45f.  lu^  the  same  question  is  addressed  by  the  woman  of  Samaria 
to  Clirist:  'Art  thou  greater  than  our  father  Jacob,'— the 
Dispenser  of  the  new  water  with  its  marvellous  properties  than 
the  actual  giver  of  the  well?  It  was  natural  and  inevitable 
that  one  of  the  questions  that  more  particularly  forced  itself 
upon  the  attention  of  His  contemporaries  should  be  the  relation 
of  the  Teacher,  who  had  arisen  in  their  midst  and  who  claimed 
so  great  things,  not  only  to  the  earlier  prophets,  but  to  the 
patriarchs  and  ancestors  of  the  Jewish  nation.  See  further 
art.  Jacob. 

The  figure  of  Abraham,  therefore,  in  the  Gospels 
is  idealized,  and  invested  with  a  simple  grandeur 
as  the  head  and  founder  of  the  race  in  the  indis- 
tinct ages  of  ttie  past,  to  whom  are  owing  its  present 
privileges,  and  around  whom  gather  its  future  hopes. 
There  is,  however,  no  indication  of  hero-worship,  as 
in  the  case  of  the  more  or  less  mythical  ancestors 
of  other  peoples.  This  conception,  moreover,  apart 
from  St.  John's  Gospel,  is  purely  patriarchal.  The 
characteristic  Pauline  presentation  of  Abraham  as 
the  father  of  the  faithful  in  a  moral  and  spiritual 
sense,  as  the  type  and  pattern  of  all  righteousness 
and  obedience,  as  it  is  developed  in  the  Epistles  to 
the  Romans  and  Galatians,  is  absent  (cf.  also  He 
11™-,  Ja  •2"-'^).  References  to  the  details  of  his 
history  are  not  indeed  wanting  in  the  remaining 
books'of  the  New  Testament,  but  they  are  all,  as  it 
were,  with  a  moral  and  didactic  purpose :  Gal  i"^^,  the 
two  covenants;  He  7"'-,  Abraham  and  Melchizedek  ; 
Ro  4'*'-  and  He  11*-  ",  faith  exhibited  in  the  aban- 
donment of  his  fatherland,  in  the  birth  and  ofl'ering 
up  of  Isaac  ;  Ac  l"- '",  the  same  abandonment  of  his 
country  and  the  purchase  of  a  tomb  from  the  sons 
of  Emmor  in  Sycliem ;  cf.  1  P  3^  with  a  possible 
reference  to  Gn  18'-. 

Later  Hebrew  literature  discussed  especially  this 
aspect  of  his  character,  and  the  historical  view  was 
superseded  by  the  ethical  or  theological.  Cf . ,  for 
example,  Pirke  Aooth  v.  4,  of  the  ten  testings  or 
trials  (ni]VD:)'of  Abraham,  and  Taylor,  in  loc; 
'Testament  of  Abraham,'  ed.  M.  R.  James,  Texts 
and  Studies,  ii.  2. 

Literature.— The  authorities  cited  above,  with  articles  on 
'  Abraliaiii '  in  Bible  Dictionaries,  and  the  Commentaries. 

A.  S.  Geden. 

ABSOLUTION.— 1.  Our  Lord's  words  on  Absolu- 
tion.—We  find  these  in  the  following  passages: 
Mt  16'"-'',  especially  this  word  spoken  to  Peter,  '  I 
will  give  unto  thee  the  keys  of  the  kingdom  of 
heaven  :  and  whatsoever  thou  .shalt  bind  on  eartli 
shall  be  bound  in  heaven :  and  whatsoever  thou 
shalt  loose  on  earth  shall  be  loosed  in  heaven ' ; 
Mt  1818  (spoken  to  all  the  Apostles),  'Verily  I 
say  unto  you.  What  things  soever  ye  shall  bind  on 
earth  shall  be  bound  in  heaven  :  and  what  things 
soever  ye  shall  loose  on  earth  shall  be  loosed  m 
heavei/;  Jn  20-"'-  'Jesus  therefore  said  to  them 
again.  Peace  be  unto  you:  as  the  Father  hath 
sent  me,  even  so  send  I  you.  And  when  he  had 
said  this  he  breathed  on  them,  and  said  unto 
them,  Receive  ye  the  Holy  Ghost:  whose  soever 
sins  ye  forgive,  they  are  forgiven  unto  them : 
w  li.isr  MM'\  (1  >iii^  y  I'ltain,  they  are  retained.' 

Th,.  iii-i  ,,1  ill,'  -,i\  ir.us- that  about  the  kej's 
an, I  111,'  l.iihliirj  aii,l  l',„,siMg— we  might  have  been 
uii.lci  sDiiif  iuin|.ul-i,,n  to  take  as  for  Peter  alone, 
if  it  bad  not  been  that  the  like  saying  is  repeated 
to  all  the  Apostles  afterwards.  'The  words  were 
special  to  Peter,  as  the  early  history  of  the  Acts 
shows ;  but  they  were  not  limited  to  him.     And 


10 


ABSOLUTION 


ABSOLUTION 


following  as  they  do  on  his  cjrcat  confession — being 
a  prize  and  reward  of  tli;it  r.inffssion— they  belong 
to  him  as  a  man  who  ha, I  attained  by  the  revela- 
tion of  the  Father  to  ;i  true  taitli  that  Jesus  was 
the  Christ  the  Son  of  (!od  :  they  belonged  to  all  the 
Apostles  as  men  of  like  faith  :  and  they  belong  to 
the  whole  Church  of  which  these  twelve  were  the 
nucleus,  in  proportion  as  that  faith  is  alive  in  it. 
In  regard  to  the  saying  (in  Jn  20^)  about  the  for- 
giveness and  retaining  of  sins,  it  was  spoken  in  '  a 
general  gathering  of  the  believers  in  Jerusalem ' 
(see  Lk  24^),  and  '  there  is  nothing  in  the  context 
to  show  that  the  gift  was  confined  to  any  particu- 
lar group  (as  the  Apostles)  among  the  wliole  com- 
pany present.  The  commission,  therefore,  must  be 
regarded  properly  as  the  commission  of  the  Chris- 
tian society  ant\  not  as  that  of  the  Christian 
ministi-y '  (Westcott,  in  loco). 

The  '  keys '  may  be  understood  as  the  keys  of 
the  porter  at  the  outer  door  of  the  house,  and  as 
symbolic  of  authority  to  admit  into  the  kingdom 
of  heaven  or  to  exclude  from  it.  Or  they  may  be 
taken  as  the  keys  of  the  steward  for  use  inside  the 
house,  and  as  symbolic  of  authority  to  open  the 
stores  or  trea.suries  of  the  household  of  God  and  to 
give  forth  from  these  treasuries  according  to  the 
requirements  of  tlie  household.  It  is  rather  in  this 
second  sense  that  authority  is  given  to  bind  and  to 
loose,  which  in  Kabbinical  usage  meant  to  forbid 
and  allow  in  matters  of  conduct ;  that  is  to  say,  to 
interpret  the  will  of  God  and  to  enjoin  rules  of 
life  in  liaiiii..ny  with  that  wUl.  This  is  the  work 
of  til.'  St. wai.l  iif  the  mysteries  of  God,  and  has  to 
do  ■lin  rtly  w  all  things,  not  persons.  But  the  first 
.sense,  that,  of  admitting  and  excluding,  which  has 
to  do  ^\■ith  persons,  is  what  is  chiefly  meant  by  the 
power  of  the  keys,  and  it  is  as  an  exercise  of  this 
power  and  of  the  power  given  in  the  words,  '  Whose 
soever  sins  ye  forgive,  they  are  forgiven  unto  them,' 
that  absolution  must  be  considered. 

Our  Lord's  words  seem  at  lirst  reading  to  invest 
the  Church  with  absolute  authority,  and  to  promise 
that  Heaven  will  follow  and  ratuy  the  action  of 
the  Church  on  earth,  whatever  that  action  may 
be,  in  forgiving  or  judging,  in  admitting  into  the 
kingdom  of  heaven  or  excluding  from  it.  But  we 
recoil  from  this  as  impossible.  There  is  no  Church, 
how  great  soever  its  claims  in  regard  to  absolution, 
which  does  not  admit  that  Goil  alone  forgives  sin. 
We  feel,  however,  that  wo  must  lind  a  great  sense 
in  which  to  understand  so  great  words  as  those  of 
our  Lord  in  these  commissions.  And  we  observe 
that  before  the  words  in  Jn  2iJ-^  our  Lord  breathed 
upon  His  disciples  and  said,  '  Receive  ye  the  Holy 
Ghost.'  He  imparted  to  them  His  own  very  Spirit, 
so  enabling  them  to  te  His  representatives  and 
e(|uipping  them  to  continue  His  Avork.  (The  faith 
which  Peter  had  by  revelation  of  the  Father,  that 
is  to  say,  by  the  .same  Spirit,  was  an  equivalent 
endowment  before  he  received  the  promise  of  the 
keys).  It  was  evidently  the  jnirpo.se  of  the  Lord 
Jesus  that  His  Church  should  contiime  the  exercise 
on  earth  of  the  ix>wer  which  He  constantly  exer- 
cised and  set  in  the  forefront  of  His  ministry,  the 
power  of  saying  to  the  penitent,  '  Thy  sins  are  for- 
given thee ' ;  and  of  .Siiying  this  with  sucli  assured 
knowledge  of  the  truth  of  God  and  siu-h  sympa- 
thetic discernment  of  the  spirits  of  men,  tliat  what 
was  done  by  tlie  Church  on  earth  shouhl  l)e  valid 
in  heaven,  and  the  word  of  Christ  by  tlie  Churcli 
powerful  to  give  comfort  to  truly  penitent  souls. 

The  Lord  is  concerned  not  only  that  men  be  for- 
iriven,  but  that  His  disciples  should  know  tliat 
they  are  forgiven.  The  grace  of  forgiveness  lias 
not  its  pi-oper  power  in  transforming  their  lives 
unless  they  know  that  tliey  have  it.  As  long  as 
men  are  under  fear  and  doubt  they  are  not  Christ's 
freemen  :  their  religion  is  still  only  regulative.    It 


is  wlien  tliey  have  an  assured  sense  of  forgiveness 
and  reconciliation  to  God  that  a  great  impulse  of 
gratitude,  with  a  new  life  in  their  souls,  makes 
them  free  indeed,  and  strong  in  their  freedom  to 
serve  God.  Christ  accordingly  eq^uips  His  Cliurch 
to  convey  this  assurance  of  forgiveness,  and  if  a 
Church  does  not  succeed  in  doing  this,  especially 
if,  as  often,  the  current  idea  in  the  Clmrch  is  that 
to  be  assured  of  forgiveness  is  abnormal  and 
unusual,  the  Church  is  greatly  failing  in  its 
mission.  If  the  form  of  our  Lord's  promise  in 
Jn  20'^  'Whose  soever  sins  ye  forgive,  etc.,  seem 
too  absolute,  we  must  remember  that  the  gift  of 
the  Holy  Spirit,  which  He  then  gave  the  sign  of 
imparting,  is  a  gift  of  exceeding  power,  and  that 
no  limit  can  be  set  to  the  degree  in  which  God 
through  (  liri^t  is  willing  to  give  the  Spirit.  '  He 
givcth  n..i  ihi.  S|.iril  hy  measure'  (Jn  3^).  And 
our  Loi.l  i>  >iii  akiiiL;,  accordiu"  to  His  wont,  to  the 
ideal  Chuicli,  to  the  Church  which  receives  in  the 
fulness  with  which  Ho  is  willing  to  bestow.  Just  as, 
speaking  at  the  high  level  of  the  ideal,  He  says 
to  His  .servant.'^  in  another  place  (Lk  10'"),  '  He 
that  heareth  you  heareth  me :  and  he  tliat  de- 
spiseth  you  despiseth  me' ;  so  He  says  here,  '  Whose 
soever  sins  ye  forgive,  they  are  forgiven,'  etc.  But 
all  these  and  such  like  promises  depend  for  tlieir 
fulfilment  on  the  Spirit  of  Christ  working,  nay, 
reigning,  in  the  Chuich.  This  power  and  reign  of 
the  Spirit  ebbs  and  flows  according  to  the  faith 
and  receptivity  of  the  Church  ;  and  w  liile  it  is  the 
duty  of  the  Church  to  believe  in  God  being  witli  it, 
and  while  the  Church  ought  to  clothe  itself  with 
the  mighty  assurance  of  heaven  assentin"  to  its 
judgments,  it  can  dare  to  do  so,  and  will  be  able 
to  do  so,  only  in  innpoithin  .as  it  has  .sought  and 
obtained  the  imiw  .IhiiL;  of  tli.'  Spirit. 

The  words  of  our  l.oi.l  I... fore  us  certainly  do 
not  mean  that  for;^i\  en.-s  hy  the  mouth  and  at 
the  -nill  of  man  is  always  to  be  followed  by  a 
ratification  of  God  in  heaven,  even  though  tliat 
man  be  an  apostle.  But  they  do  imply  that  when 
Christ's  servants  do  their  work  in  the  enlighten- 
ment and  guidance  of  the  Spirit,  they  will  be  able 
to  convey  messages  of  grace  which  will  be  accord- 
ing to  the  truth  of  things,  and  therefore  valid  in 
heaven  :  they  will  be  able  also  to  convey  assur- 
ances of  forgivene.ss,  which  will  he  owned  of  God 
as  true,  and  will  be  made  eflective  by  His  Spirit  in 
penitent  souls.  So  then  the  great  and  chief  means 
by  which  the  Church  has  in  all  ages  fulfilled 
tile  work  which  is  sustained  by  these  startling 
promises,  is  the  preaching  of  the  gospel  of  recon- 
by  Jesus  Christ.  By  preaching  in  the 
Ihousands  of         ■    ■ 


souls  have  been 
n  of  sins  and  an 
)U^h  tlie  jneaching 
ittle  or  no  separate 
there  is  a  '  privacy 


power  of  tlie  rs|.iii(,  lli. 
m  all  ages  rei  <  n  iim  i 
assurance  of  foi  un  .  ii.'>- 
is  public,  and  tlie  [.nail 
knowledge  of  individual 

of  publicity '  in  which  whatever  nie-ssage  lie  has 
from  God  'is  made  an  absolution  Divine  in  power 
and  assurance  to  one  and  another  of  the  hearers. 
So  eflectual  is  preaching  in  the  Spirit,  that  it  may 
perhaps  be  found  that  in  the  Churches  in  Avhich 
there  is  no  ordin.-'.nce  with  the  title  of  'private 
absolution,'  the  sense  of  forgiveness  of  sins  is  truer, 
deeper,  and  more  widely  spread  than  in  those 
which  have  such  an  ordinance,  and  count  it  neces- 
sary.      ( )bviously  another  means    by   wliich    the 

absolnli..ii  l..  lli.-  ]..nit.ait  i--  hy  I  li.'  -arraiiH.nts. 
But  th.l.-  1-  I.;!!  ...-.;.  -1. Ml  nl-..  h.r  ihr  rhiir.h  to 
aflbrdfiill  ..|.|i..iiiimlv  h.i  iii.livi.hial  h.l|.  I.,  -..uls 
in  spiritual  tniublc,  and  su.h  iii.llwdiuil  .lealm-  as 
may  in  its  issue  amount  to  private  absolution.  In 
every  revival  of  religion  the  need  for  this  is  felt. 
There  are  souls  in  doubt  whether  their  repentance 
and  faith  are  true,  and  whether  they  are  them- 


ABSOLUTION 


ABSOLUTION 


selveb  acctjitLil  of  dod  Sui  li  s( mis  seek  the  help 
of  the  (.liuuh,  and  (.ft(  n  ^u  ilh  piold  liy  it 
'  Inquiiy  iDonis  '  h  ni.  liiiii  ut  not  ilili  sinicc  m 
moduli  'missions,  and  it  is  i  mun  >ti  II  ni^  foi 
people  m  tiouble  of  tonstun         I  |  i  cial 

bin  to  long  to  uii))osoni  th(  i  I  i  one 

whom  they  feel  to  hi\  e  sj  mt      I  1  \  m 

gelical  leligious  iiewspapeis  h  o\e  luu  I  i  i  it  they 
supply  a  demand  by  setting  apait  a  eoluiiin,  often 
largely  used,  foi  the  answeis  of  some  mmistei  of 
reputation  to  men  •»  ho  open  then  minds  to  him, 
confess  then  eliicf  sms,  doubts,  or  temptations, 
and  seek  eomfoit  thiou_h  him  All  tlie  (  huidies, 
to  a  !,ie  itci  (  1  h  ss  extent  supplemc  nt  the  pu  irli 
ing  ol  th(  A\ Old  bj  'discipline,  and  tlieu  idiiiis 
sion  to  communion  and  evelusion  from  it  tell 
po\\  ei  fully  on  the  indn  idual  conscience  The 
effectiveness  of  all  such  dealing  has  a  natuial  basis 
in  the  fact  of  experience  that  a  man  s  judgment  of 
himself  IS  gi eatly  influenced  by  the  jiid!,nicnt  of 
his  fellow -men.  It  belongs  to  human  iiatuio  tliat 
the  judgment  of  the  community  in  which  a  man 
lives  &o  tells  upon  his  spiiit  that  it  is  haid  foi 
him  to  beat  uji  a;,ainst  it  llus  is  c  uued  to  a 
highei  powei  mtheChuuh,  lu  the  splieie  w  lu  u  m 
the  Spii it  of  Chi  1st  w  oiks  'Ihe  fi  slnnoii-v  ot  mi  n 
who  aie  spiutually  minded  and  in  ediumuuion 
with  God  IS  felt  to  ha\o  an  autliouty  siieli  that 
great  lelief  is  given  to  souls  by  the  Chuich's 
absolution,  and  gieat  buiden  imposed  bj  its  le 
fusal  And  justly,  foi  the  disceiiiment  of  spiuts 
is  one  of  the  {,itts  ot  the  Spiut  of  (  bust  to  His 
servants  The>  all  have  it  lu  some  measuie,  some 
in  a  wonderful  uieasuie  (1  (  o  2'  1  da  ii  '  4'),  and 
It  may  be  leealled  that  aft(  i  oui  1  old  jiiomised  to 
Petei  that  on  him  He  woul.l  budd  His  (  huieli.  He 
did  not  say,  as  we  should  Imc  cxjiected,  'I  will 
give  thee  the  kejsof  the  (  huK  h,  but  '  the  keys  of 
the  kingdom  ot  heaven'  tiom  which  we  infei 
that,  while  the  Cliuieh  and  the  kingdom  aie  not 
conteiminous,  the  Chuieh  is  meant  to  be  a  tiue 
lealization  of  the  kingdom,  and  its  ludgments 
valid  foi  that  kingdom  In  \n  il  il  (  Imidithis 
would  be  fulhlled  In  aii>  In  1  i  liuuh  the 
power  spoken  of,  at  once  gi  K  11  11  I  \  Inl  v  uies 
in  its  eflectiveness  accoidiiu  I  il  liilmssof  the 
Spuit  m  its  offace  be  u  I  1    is 

iliL  NT  age  there 


.  1   ir  h     This  rculn  i, 

1    Ken  of  IS  the 

I   declared  bj 

111  h  onU  in  so 

1    1     tpibcopatc,  and, 

sho]>  of  Rome  a  d  440), 


Liinmiiniijin 
pastor  ind  people 


spoken  b\  the  ininist  r      F 

ir    tmi  f  n   1  III 

liilc^aidtu  tilt  \n,l  i 

absolution  01  leniibbioii  ot  s  iis  1 
alone,  the  people  still  kneehii^ 
clamation  of  Gods  pardon  to  tt 
for  true  repentance     The  e\hoi  i 
contains  thit,  inv  itition,  to  be  pi   i      i 
there  be  anv  ofvouvvho  caniKt'iuiLl 

kt  linn  come  to  jne,  or  to  some  othci 
minister  of  God  s  v\  ord  and  open  Ins  ei  lef 
of  Gods  holy  v\oid  he  nn\    i       i\c   tli     ! 


I  ibinhte 
t  solution 


enjoined  ' 


v^eishty 


w  lio  trulv  icpcnt  and  h^ 
lluethmeoficncii,  am 
.■-  hetheefrini  all  tl  . 


'absolution   aie  used 

of  theChuKh  vshohi 
Chri  t  IS  1  iM    h   fl    I 


Th. 


the  Chii 
espeeialh 
that  a  e 
work  of  L 
vaded  by  tin 


\I  ilutinn,  in  the  full  meaning 
((I  the  sense  of  God's  foigiveness 
in  that  sense,  may  be  said  to  be 
lit  the  Cliuich  and  its  mmistry. 
mil  ont  mainly  by  pleaching, 
iiiiiviilual  dealing  with  souls. 
1     n    1 1  lov  e  indicates  the  more 

I  II        stul   methods   by  which 

II  I,  his  ,ndeno„i,d  to  fulhl 
I  I  111  liM  I  1  1  il  liii  In  oidei 
\    I      tiiih  I  il    in   this 

mil  I  I  1  I  I  1\  111  1  widely  pel 
it  ol  (  iiusl   lu  its  whole  mem 


beiship      The  gift  of  powti  in  this  vvoik  is  not 
conhned   to   the  ministry;   it  is  found  wheievt 


theie  is  a  dc 
expeiience  '' 
themselves  1 
him  to  h  IV ,   I 

(    bust   hkl     I  I 


[ily  spnituil  mind  and  Chiistian 
it  betake 
111!  V  feel 
longs  to 
s)  iritual 


I  .  Ill  tiuh  called  ot  (xod  to  the 
1 1  lie  shown  by  then  goodness  to 
I  \\  hip  of  God  On  the  training- 
'/  /  X  bad  boy  met  with  .an  accident; 
to  the  little  hospital      ^^  hen  he  was 


ABYSS 


ACCESS 


awake  at  night  he  talked  to  the  nurse.  One  night 
he  said,  'Sister,  I  think  I  am  dying,  and  it  is  so 
hard ;  but  I  think  if  you  kissed  me  as  if  I  was  a 
good  boy,  I  could  bear  it.'  This  boy,  conscious  of 
an  evil  past  and  struggling  to  escape  from  it,  felt 
as  if  the  kiss  of  that  good  woman  would  give  him 
cheer,  and  hope  of  acceptance  with  God — would  be, 
in  fact,  an  absolution.  A  Christian  minister,  in 
converse  with  a  dying  man  in  whom  he  discerns  a 
true  repentance,  may  be  able  to  saj-  with  great 
power,  '  Brother,  be  assured  thy  sins  are  forgiven 
thee,'  and  great  blessing  of  comfort  to  the  man 
may  follow,  may  indeed  be  looked  for.  Only  in  a 
high  moment  of  sinritual  impulse  and  assurance 
could  the  minister  venture  to  say,  '  In  the  name  of 
the  Lord  Jesus  I  absolve  thee  from  thy  sins. ' 

LiTERATPRE.— The  Commentaries  on  the  Gospels,  especially 
Westcott  on  St.  John,  Bruce  on  St.  Matthew,  Dods  on  St. 
John ;  Bishop  Harold  Browne's  Expositnm  of  the  Thirtij-niiic 
Artich's;  A    C<if/in/;r    Ihrtunianj   l.v    Addis    .ind   Arnold,   art. 


7icr»H.;i'(i.i»s<(..|H  /.,7,r,i  ,■/«,.,<  J.amhjrisHichni  ;  F.  \V.  Robert- 
son, of  P.ntrhton,  Sennoiis,  3rd  series,  v.  ;  Selbv,  The  Imperfect 
Angel,  etc.,  xii.  J,  KOBERTSON. 

ABYSS  {ii  (S/Swo-os).— The  word '  abyss,'  which  we 
find  in  several  places  in  the  RV  of  the  NT,  is  not 
found  in  the  AV.  There  we  find  instead,  in  St. 
Luke  (8'')  and  in  Romans  (10')  'the  deep,'  and  in 
the  Apocalypse  '  the  bottomless  pit.'  In  Rev  9^- 
we  find  (RV)  'the  pit  of  the  abyss'  (t6  (ppiap  rfjs 
ipiaaov),  a  somewhat  peculiar  expression,  but  not 
having,  it  would  seem,  a  different  signification  from 
the  simple  word  'abyss.' 

It  is  not  easy  to  see  that  the  word  '  abyss '  has 
the  same  signitication  in  Romans  as  it  has  in  St. 
Luke  and  the  Apocalj-pse.  In  a  general  way,  of 
course,  the  word  may  be  taken  as  meaning  the 
underworld,  the  world  of  departed  spirits  and  of 
things  dim  and  mysterious, — a  world  conceived  of 
as  deeply  hidden  away  from  that  of  things  seen 
and  known,  even  as  the  interior  of  the  earth  and 
the  depths  of  the  ocean  are  hidden.  The  abyss 
is  certainly  the  realm  of  the  departed  in  Ro  10', 
where  St.  Paul  himself  interprets  the  word  for  us  : 
'Who  shall  descend  into  the  abyss  (that  is,  to 
bring  up  Christ  from  the  dead)?'  But  a  more 
specific  meaning  than  that  of  simply  the  under- 
world must  be  given  to  the  word  in  Lk  8"  and  in 
the  various  passages  in  the  Apocalyp.se  where  it 
en  in  Lk    "' 


occurs.     The  abvs 


",  jierhaps, 


the  ultimate  place  of  punishment,  but  it  is  there 
assuredly  a  place  of  restraint  and  of  terror,  as  it  is 
also  so  far  in  the  Apocalypse.  The  abyss  in  the 
latter  is  the  Satanic  underworld,  the  dark  and 
mysterious  region  out  of  which  evil  comes,  but 
also  the  prison  in  which  during  the  millennial  period 
Satan  is  confined.  Of  course  much  that  is  given 
in  the  Apocalypse  is  given  under  poetic  imagery. 
The  abyss  is  rather  a  condition  of  spiritual  beings 
than  a  region  of  .space.  But  under  the  imagery 
there  is  fact,  the  fact  that  there  are  si)iritual 
beings  setting  themselves  in  opposition  to  the 
Kingdom  of  God,  and  yet  in  their  very  opposi- 
tion conscious  of  His  restraining  power.  Satan 
is  bound  for  a  season  in  the  abyss.  He  has  no 
absolute  power,  but  must  submit  to  such  restraint 
as  is  put  upon  him.  Evil  comes  from  the  abyss, 
but  the  very  Spirit  of  evil  has  to  submit  to  being 
bound  there. 

LiTEEATrRE.— The  Commentaries  on  the  passages  above  cited ; 
the  art.  'Abyss'  in  Hastings'  BBandin  t\\e  Entile.  Biblica. 

George  "C.  Watt. 
ACCEPTANCE.  The  state  or  relation  of  being 
in  favipur.  c^prcially  witli  God.  It  is  a  common OT 
coufi^ption  that  has  been  carried  over  into  the  NT. 
In  the  former  it  has  both  a  ceremonial  significance, 
involving  the  presence  of  an  approved  offering  or 


a  state  of  ceremonial  purity,  and  also  an  ethical 
significance,  involving  divinely  approved  conduct. 
The  Hebrew  expression  n'j?  Npj '  to  lift  up  or  accept 
the  face  or  person  of  one,'  becomes  in  Nr  wpbawwov 
\a/j,^6.yeci>,  'to  accept  the  person  oc  presence,' wliich, 
however,  with  its  derivatives,  Trpoffuwo\i)ij.TrTciir  and 
TrpoffioTToXijfnrTrii,  always  implies  the  acceptance  of 
the  outward  presence,  without  regard  to  the  in- 
ward or  moral  qualities ;  hence,  in  a  bad  sense, 
partiality,  as  in  Lk  20='  (cf.  ]\It22iSand  Mk  12"). 
In  a  good  sense  the  idea  is  expressed  by  eOdpearos, 
'well -pleasing'  (Mt  3"  'This  is  my  beloved  Son, 
in  whom  I  am  well  pleased' ;  cf.  Mt  XT'*)  ;  cf.  also 
ScktSs,  'acceptable'  (Lk  4-'',  Ph  4"),  used  with 
iviavT&s,  '  acceptable  year '  (Lk  4")  and  with  Kaipos, 
'  acceptable  time '  (2  Co  6=),  of  a  period  or  time  when 
God's  favour  is  specially  manifest.  In  numerous 
passages  in  the  Gospels  and  Epistles  acceptance 
with  God  comes  only  through  and  in  Jesus  Christ 
(Jn  I4«,  Eph  1'^  '  accepted  in  the  Beloved,'  Ro  14'», 
He  13=').  So  also  the  disciple's  conduct  and  ser- 
vice are  to  be  such  as  will  find  acceptance  with 
Christ  (Eph  5'°,  2  Co  5» ;  cf .  He  12=^).  See,  further, 
art.  Access. 

As  applied  to  our  Lord  Himself,  the  idea  of  His 
acceptance  both  with  God  and  man  is  of  frequent 
occurrence  in  the  Gospels.  Of  Jesus  as  a  growing 
boy  this  twofold  acceptance  on  earth  and  in  heaven 
is  expressly  affirmed  (Lk  2'=).  His  perfect  accept- 
ance -with  the  Father  is  testified  to,  not  only  by  a 
voice  from  heaven  both  at  the  berinning  of  His 
ministry  (Mt  3"il)  and  towards  its  close  (Mt  17^ Ii), 
but  l)y  the  constant  affirmations  of  His  own  self- 
consciousness  (Mt  11=' II,  Mk  12«||,  Jn  5=°  8=s  10", 
15»  etc.).  The  favour  with  which  He  was  regarded 
by  the  people  when  He  first  came  declaring  '  the 
acceptable  year  of  the  Lord,'  is  proved  not  only  by 
such  notices  as,  'The  common  people  heard  him 
gladly'  (Mk  12"),  but  by  the  crowds  which  fol- 
lowed Him  constantly  all  through  the  period  of 
public  favour.  So  far  as  acceptance  with  men  is 
concerned,  there  is,  of  course,  another  side  to  the 
picture.  '  No  prophet,'  He  said,  '  is  acceptable  in 
his  own  country '  (Lk  4=^).  His  own  brethren  did 
not  believe  on  Him  (Jn  7'"^),  His  own  to^vnsmen 
thrust  Him  out  of  their  city  (Lk  4=«='),  His  own 
people  were  guilty  at  last  of  that  great  act  of  re- 
jection which  found  utterance  in  the  shouts,  'Not 
this  man,  but  Barabbas'  (Jn  18"),  and  'Crucify 
him,  crucify  him'  (Lk  23='),  and  was  visibly  set 
forth  to  all  coming  time  when  He  was  nailed  to  a 
cross  in  full  sight  of  Jerusalem  (see  Rejection). 
He  who  had  been  accepted  for  a  time  was  now  '  a 
root  out  of  a  dry  ground,'  tlie  'despised  and  re- 
jected of  men '  (Is  53--  ^).  And  yet  it  was  from  this 
same  root  of  rejection  and  sorrow  that  the  accept- 
ance of  Christ  was  to  grow  into  universal  forms. 
Being  lifted  up  from  the  earth.  He  drew  all  men 
unto  Him  (Jn  12==).  And  though  as  the  well- 
beloved  Son  He  had  never  for  a  moment  lost  favour 
in  His  Father's  sight,  it  was  through  enduring  the 
cross  and  despising  the  shame  tliat  He  sat  down  at 
the  right  hand  of  the  throne  of  God  (He  12=;  cf. 
Ph  2«").  E.  B.  Pollard. 

ACCESS  (7rpo<ra7u7^).— No  word  in  the  English 
language  expresses  the  double  meaning  of  irpoir- 
ayuyri.  While  the  AV  translates  it  invariably 
'  access,'  the  RV  more  accurately  renders  '  our 
access '  in  Ro  5=  and  Eph  2'*. 

The  irpoaayoiyevs  at  Eastern  courts  acted  as 
official  introducer  in  conducting  strangers  to  a 
king's  presence.  *  AVIicther  there  were  any  allusion 
to  this  or  not  in  the  minds  of  our  New  Testament 
writers,  the  custom  ilhislratcs  appropriately  one  use 
of  the  word  'access.'  Christ  as  our  Introducer 
obtains  admission  for  us  into  the  favour  and 
*  Tholuck,  Rom.  I.e.,  and  Ustcri,  Lchrb.  u.  i.  1,  p.  101. 


ACCESS 

presence  of  God.  Tpoir ayayq  is  '  aditus  ad  rem  vel 
personam'  (Grotius).  It  means  (1)  '  introduction,' 
•admission'  (see  references  to  classical  Greek 
autliors,  and  to  Chrysostoni  in  Ellicott  on  Eph  2'*) ; 
(2)  '  liberty  of  approach.' 

'  Access '  {Trpo(Ta.yayri)  occurs  in  three  passages  in 
the  New  Testament,  Ko  .5-,  Eph  2'8,  and  3'^  An  ex- 
amination of  tliese  passages  will  best  explain  what 
'  access  '  meant  in  the  tliou!,'lit  of  St.  Paul.  Then 
it  will  be  necessary  to  consider  1  P  S^^  '  For  Christ 
also  hath  once  suffered  for  sins,  the  just  for  the 
unjust,  that  he  might  bring  us  (Tpotraydyri)  to 
God ' ;  and  afterwards,  the  idea  of  the  author  of  the 
Epistle  to  the  Hebrews  regarding  '  access '  as  the 
act  of  drawing  near  to  God  through  the  great 
High  Priest  must  be  stated. 

1.  Ro  S^  'Through  whom  we  have  also  [raf, 
'copulat  et  auget'  (Toletus),  'answering  almost  to 
our  "  as  might  be  expected  " '  (Alf.)]  got  [^(Tx^fa/xei/] 
our  [t^v]  access  (introduction)  by  our  [t^]  faith,  into 
tliis  grace  wherein  we  stand.'  The  Perfect  tense 
is  used  in  connexion  with  that  justifying  act  re- 
ferred to  in  v.^.  Access  is  not  here  a  second 
privilege  of  the  justified,  but  introduction  to  the 
very  grace  of  justification  itself.  We  owe  to  Christ 
not  only  peace  as  the  primary  blessing  of  justifi- 
cation, but  admission  to  that  state  wnich  is  the 
atmosphere  of  peace. 

This  paragraph,  beginning  with  v.'  and  descrip- 
tive of  the  life  of  the  justified,  is  founded  on  the 
doctrinal  basis  just  laid  down.  The  Apostle  has 
examined  tlie  world  of  men,  as  it  appeared  in  the 
prevalent  antithesis  of  Jew  and  Gentile.  His 
spiritual  diagnosis  revealed  the  fact  of  universal 
sin  and  universal  condemnation.  A  guilty  race, 
a  holy  God,  and  a  broken  law,  mtli  its  death 
penalty,  were  factors  in  the  problem  for  solution. 
This  problem,  insoluble  by  man,  is  taken  in  hand 
by  Christ.  Christ  provided  a  solution  as  effectual 
as  the  need  for  it  is  clamant.  The  summary  of 
that  solution  as  contained  in  4^-  is  the  Divine 
certificate  of  its  efficacy.  It  was  written  not  for 
the  sake  of  Abraham  alone  (a  typical  case  of  its 
application),  but  for  us  also,  to  whom  it  shall  be 
imputed,  if  we  believe  on  Him  that  raised  up  Jesus 
our  Lord  from  the  dead  ;  who  was  delivered  for  our 
offences,  and  was  raised  again  for  our  justification. 
Based  on  tliis,  ch.  5  begins :  '  Therefore  being 
justified  by  faith,  we  have  peace  with  God  through 
our  Lord  Jesus  Christ.'  Before  getting  further, 
the  Apostle  'harks  back'  in  v.^  to  the  thought  of 
justifying  grace,  access  to  which  is  by  Christ. 

Into  the  state  of  justifying  grace  we  have  access 
through  Christ's  Passion.  His  introduction  in- 
cludes, nay,  is  the  starting-point  of,  liberty  of  ap- 
proach. The  need  of  an  introduction  implies  that 
we  were  outside  the  state  into  which  we  are 
introduced.  St.  Paul  himself  had  experienced 
transition  from  the  condition  of  a  condemned,  to 
that  of  a  justified,  sinner.  'Barnabas  introduced 
him  to  the  apostles  (Ac  9^),  and  there  were  others 
"  that  led  him  by  the  hand  to  Damascus  "  (v.^) ;  but 
it  was  Christ  that  introduced  and  led  him  by  the 
hand  into  this  grace'  (M.  Henry).  Christ  intro- 
duces, '  Contigit  nobis  ut  perduceremur '  (Erasmus). 
He  does  not  drag  unwilling  followers.  Faith  is 
the  following  foot.  If  He  draws  us,  we  run  after 
Him. 

2.  Eph  2'"  '  For  through  him  we  both  have  our 
access  in  one  Spirit  unto  the  Father.'  3'2  'in 
whom  we  have  our  boldness  and  our  access  with 
confidence  by  the  faith  of  him.'  The  old  contro- 
versy as  to  whether  access  means  in  these  verses 
introduction  or  liberty  of  approach,  still  survives. 
Among  moderns,  Alford  and  Ellicott  take  opposite 
sides.  Alford  contends  for  the  latter  as  '  better 
representing  the  repetition,  the  present  liberty  of 
approach  which  ^xo/ifimplies,  but  which  "m<rorf«<c- 


ACCESS 


13 


tion  "  does  not  give. '  While  pressing  the  point  that 
as  'boldness'  (TrappTjo-k)  is  subjective  in  3'-,  'access' 
there  coupled  with  it  must  also  be  subjective,  he 
gives  away  his  case  by  admitting  that  the  second 
term  (7rpocra7u7ij)  is  'less  purely  so  than  the  first' 
(wapp-qala).  Ellirott  argues  for  'introduction'  on 
grounds  of  lexical  and  il.issical  usage,  but  also 
makes  the  signilicant  admission  that  the  transitive 
meaning  of  Trpoaayuyr/  is  a  little  less  certain  in  3'^ 
than  it  is  in  2"*,  on  account  of  its  union  with  the 
intransitive  wapprjala. 

Where  equally  competent  critical  authorities 
thus  differ,  the  context  of  the  pas.sages  may  be 
allowed  to  decide  between  them.  In  the  paragraph 
2"-22,  where  'access'  (v.'^)  appears,  the  Apostle 
writes  of  a  change  in  the  Ephesians'  relations  cor- 
respondin"  to  tlie  change  already  described  as 
having  taken  place  in  their  moral  and  spiritual 
condition.  At  one  time  they  were  afar  off',  aliens, 
strangers,  hopeless,  godless.  A  change  was  effected 
by  the  blood  of  Christ.  Those  for  whom  His  death 
procured  peace  are  now  declared  to  be  fellow- 
citizens  of  the  saints,  members  of  the  household  of 
God,  stones  in  that  living  temple  in  which  God 
dwells  through  the  Spirit.  There  is  surely  some- 
thing more  implied  by  'access'  in  such  a  setting 
than  mere  liberty  of  approach  to  God.  The 
Church  is  Christ's  body,  sliarin"  the  privileges  of 
its  Head.  The  reconciliation  effected  by  His  blood 
is  not  a  mere  potential  one.  Very  definite  language 
is  used  to  express  change  of  relationship :  v.'' 
'  were  brought  nigh  '  (historic).  To  become  citizens 
of  a  kingdom,  members  of  a  household,  stones  in  a 
building,  implies  a  definite  act  performed  on  behalf 
of  the  persons  or  things  thus  brought  into  these 
new  relations.  Access  in  the  sense  of  introduetion 
seems  to  express  most  fitly  the  alteration  thus  con- 
textually  described. 

The  argument  for  '  introduction '  is  not  quite  so 
strong  in  3'-.  In  the  context  preceding,  St.  Paul 
has  been  speaking  of  his  own  office  as  Apostle  of 
the  Gentiles.  He  was  made  a  minister  of  the 
gospel  in  order  by  its  means  to  bring  the  Gentiles 
into  the  fellowship  of  the  saints,  and  instruct 
men  as  to  the  eternal  purpose  of  God  in  Kedemp- 
tion.  That  purpose,  executed  in  Christ,  mani- 
fested to  principalities  and  powers  in  heaven  the 
wisdom  of  God.  Had  the  'access'  been  used  by 
itself  in  v.'-  after  the  above  line  of  thought,  that 
would  not  point  to  introductioti  rather  than  to 
liberty  of  approach.  But  standing  as  it  does  be- 
tween '  boldness '  (irapp-nalav)  and  '  with  confidence ' 
(iv  ireiroiffijcrei),  '  liberty  of  approach '  scarcely  ex- 
presses all  the  author's  thought.  The  multiplica- 
tion of  terms  indicates  an  attempt  to  give  utterance 
to  something  besides  this.  And  .so,  according  to 
the  analogy  of  Ro  5=  and  Eph  2'",  we  are  warranted 
here  also  in  translating  Trpoaaywyfi,  by  'introduc- 
tion.' 'While  the  former  of  the  parallel  terms 
(boldness)  describes  the  liberty  with  which  the 
newborn  Church  of  the  redeemed  address  them- 
selves to  God  the  Father  and  the  unchecked 
freedom  of  their  petitions,  the  latter  (admittance) 
takes  us  back  to  the  act  of  Christ  by  which  He 
introduced  us  to  the  Father's  presence  and  gave  us 
the  place  of  sons  in  the  house '  (Findlay  in  Expos. 
Bible,  'Ephesians'). 

Confusion  has  been  created  by  expositors  in- 
sisting that  'access'  must,  in  the  three  passages 
where  the  word  occurs,  always  mean  either  intra- 
ditction,  or  liberty  of  approach  exclusively.  But 
the  larger  concept,  'introduction,'  includes  the 
lesser,  '  liberty  of  approach.'  To  put  it  in  another 
way — the  latter  term  follows  from  the  former. 
Presentation  at  the  Court  of  Heaven  gives  one 
the  right  to  return  there.  It  secures  habitual 
access  to  God  at  all  times. 

3.  1  P  318  '  Because  Christ  also  suffered  for  sins 


u 


ACCESS 


ACCESS 


once,  the  righteous  for  the  unrighteous,  tliat  he 
might  bring  us  {irpoffaydya)  to  God.'  The  Apostle 
does  not  set  liimself  in  this  Epistle  to  expound  the 
theology  of  the  Passion.  His  general  purpo.se  is  to 
comfort  and  sustain  Christians  wlio  are  suttering 
persecutions.  Some  of  them  were  slaves,  enduring 
wrongs  from  cruel  masters  because  of  their  faith 
in  Christ.  These  Avere  directed  to  the  exemplary 
character  of  Christ's  suflerings.  In  3"  St.  Peter 
assures  them  that  it  is  better  to  suffer  for  AveU- 
doing  than  for  evil-doing.  Then  in  v.'*  he  links 
them  in  thought  with  the  suliering  Saviour.  But 
it  is  not  on  tlie  exemplary  significance  of  Christ's 
sufferings  that  he  enlarges.  Tliat  is  left  behind. 
The  writer  is  spellbound  by  the  very  mention  of 
the  Cross,  and  for  a  moment  he  forgets  his  pur- 
pose of  directing  some  wronged  slaves  to  Chiist  as 
the  supreme  example  of  suliering  innocence,  that 
he  may  state  again  the  wider  and  deeper  meaning 
of  his  Lord's  Passion.  Christ  sufTered  in  connexion 
with  sin  once  for  all  (a7ra|).  The  unique  signifi- 
cance of  His  death  consisted  in  its  being  the 
death  of  a  righteous  person  for  the  unrighteous 
(SUatos  virfp  aSlKuv) ;  and  His  action  had  this  end 
in  view,  that  He  might  conduct  us  (irpocraydyri)  to 
God  :  '  ut  nos,  qui  abalienati  fueramus,  ipse  abiens 
ad  Patrem,  secum  una,  justificatos  adduceret  in 
ccelum,  v.^,  per  eosdem  gradus  quos  ijise  emensus 
est,  exinanitionis  et  exaltationis '  (Bengel).  'And 
if  the  soul  bear  back  still  through  distrust.  He 
takes  it  by  the  hand  and  draws  it  forward  ;  leads 
it  unto  His  Father ;  presents  it  to  Him,  and  leaves 
not  the  matter  till  it  [the  reconciliation  between  a 
sinner  and  God]  be  made  a  full  and  sure  agree- 
ment' (Leighton). 

4.  The  word  wpoaayory^  is  not  found  in  the  Epistle 
to  the  Hebrews.  Access  is  expressed  there  in 
different  language  from  that  in  the  passages  con- 
sidered, because  it  is  associated  with  somewhat 
different  ideas.  Tlie  author  of  Hebrews,  writing 
as  a  pastor,  not  as  an  evangelist,  aims  at  con- 
serving rather  than  initiating  faith.  Instead 
of  the  Pauline  and  Petrine  idea  of  the  Saviour 
leading  in  a  sinner,  we  have  the  sinner  coming  to 
the  Saviour.  Inti-udiu-tiun  (Trpoaayi^yi))  becomes 
access,  liberty  of  uppronrh,  uppnixiuuitinn.  Sinners 
are  represented  in  the  \ery  act  of  approaching — 
are  exhorted  to  approach.  The  worshippers  under 
the  law  were  toi)s  irpoaepxaiiivovs,  'the  comers' 
(He  10") ;  '  not  those  that  come  to  the  worship,  but 
those  who  by  the  worship  come  to  God'  (Owen). 
Under  the  gospel  (Judaism  evolved)  their  attitude 
and  character  remained  the  same  :  7^  11"  (singular) 
or  4'*  10--,  where  believers  are  exhorted  to  draw 
near  (irpocr^pxtiiJ.eBa). 

As  a  Hebrew  Cliristian  addressing  Hebrew 
Christians,  the  writer  of  Hebrews  makes  large  use 
of  Old  Testament  conceptions  and  Old  Testament 
rites  familiar  to  himself  and  his  coi-respondents. 
Urging  upon  them  tlie  truth  '  that  the  faith  of 
Christ  is  the  true  and  final  religion'  (Da\-idson), 
he  presents  a  series  of  contrasts  between  what  was 
elementary  in  Judaism  and  the  finished  product  of 
Christianity.  Modem  readers  are  apt  to  lose 
themselves  amid  unfamiliar  details  here.  But  it 
is  possible  to  set  these  details  in  the  background, 
and  yet  grasp  the  permanent  truths,  which  are  as 
important  for  us  as  for  the  readers  to  whom  such 
details  Ijccame  the  most  effective  illustrations. 
We  shall  keep  this  in  \-iew  when  attempting  now 
to  summarize  the  great  facts  associated  with  the 
idea  of  access  in  the  four  Epistles  already  referred 
to. 

(1)  The  need  of  ncress  to  implies  separation  from 
God — want  of  fellowship  like  that  en.ioyeil  by 
those  who  walk  in  the  light.  We  are  by  nature 
afar  oil"  (Eph  2'3),  aliens  (v.'=).  There  is  an  en- 
mity which  must  be  slain  before  peace  is  eftected. 


caled  against  all  ungodli- 

-  of  men  (Ho  l'^).    The 

rhiklrcn  of  wrath  (Ejih 

i  '1  in  Hebrews  to  draw 


The  wrath  of  G( 
ness  and  uuii_i 
Ephe-sians  v. 
22).     That  »■  . 
near  t4"> 


is  emphatically  affirmed  that  He  is  able  to 
unto  the  uttermost,  it  is  supposed  that  great 
oppositions  and  difficulties  do  lie  in  the  way  of 
its  accomplishment'  (Owen). 

(2)  The  great  separating  barrier  is  sin.  All 
have  sinned  (Ro  3'^) :  and  the  correlative  of  uni- 
versal sin  is  universal  condemnation.  Sin  and 
death  are  so  as.sociated  as  to  be  completely  one 
(Eo  5'=-  "•  "•  "•  =').  The  Ephesians  are  represented 
as  dead  in  trespasses  and  sins  (2'). 

(3)  All  three  Persons  of  the  Godhead  conspired 
to  deal  with  the  problem  of  sin,  in  a  way  corre- 
sponding to  its  magnitude.  Access  is  («)  to  (irpbs) 
the  Father  (Eph  2'*)  —  representing  tlie  God  to 
whom  we  are  to  be  reconciled  and  introduced,  and 
into  whose  family  we  are  to  be  adopted  ;  (b)  throuqh 
(Sid)  the  Son  (Uo  5-,  Eph  2>«) ;  (r)  bi/  (iv)  tlie 
Spirit  (Eph  2'*'). 

(4)  This  is  the  special  work  of  Christ.  He  bridges 
the  gulf  which  sin  has  created  between  God  and 
man.  We  have  access  into  the  grace  of  justifica- 
tion through  the  redemption  that  is  in  Christ 
Jesus,  wliom  God  hath  set  forth  to  be  a  propitia- 
tion through  faith  in  His  blood  (Ro  3=«- ^S).  The 
double  alienation  from  God  and  His  Church  dis- 
cussed in  Ephesians  is  removed  through  Christ — by 
His  blood  (2'3),  by  His  flesh  (v.'-'),  by  His  Cross 

The  steps  whereby  access  was  effected  by  Christ 
are  clearly  laid  down  in  1  P  3"*.  His  death  has 
a  connexion  with  sin.  He  suffered  once  for  all 
(airai),  '  so  that  to  them  who  lay  liold  on  Him  this 
liolds  sure,  that  sin  is  never  to  be  suffered  for  in  the 
way  of  strict  justice  again,  as  not  by  Him,  so  not  by 
them  who  are  in  Him'  (Leighton).  The  unique 
significance  of  Christ's  suffering  in  connexion  with 
sins  is  expressed  in  the  words  'the  just  for  the 
unjust'  (Skoios  iirip  dSiKui').  In  dyin§,  the  right- 
eous One  took  on  Himself  the  liability  of  the 
unrighteous.  Access  to  God  was,  va  St.  Peter's 
estimation,  thus  purchased  at  an  unspeakable 
price.  'A  righteous  One  has  once  for  all  faced, 
and  in  death  taken  u]!  and  exhausted,  tlic  responsi- 
bilities of  the  uiiii'.;hleoiis,  so  that  they  no  more 
stand  between  them  and  tiod '  (l)enney,  The  Death 
of  Christ,  p.  102). 

The  autlior  of  Hebrews  explains  and  illustrates 
by  a  method  sid  generis,  how  Christ  obtains  access 
for  us.  Christ  is  the  great  High  Priest  interceding 
for  men  in  the  heavenly  sanctuai-y,  and  the  function 
which  He  discharges  in  heaven  is  based  on  the 
death  which  He  died  on  earth.  A  priest's  duty  is 
to  establish  and  represent  fellowship  between  God 
and  man.  Christ  found  that  sin  barred  the  way  to 
this  fellowship,  and  accordingly  dealt  with  sin. 
He  was  ap)3ointed  with  a  view  to  this  end— to 
make  propitiation  for  the  sins  of  the  people  (He 
2").  In  contrast  with  the  Levitical  iniests  and 
their  duties,  Clirist's  Person  and  work  are  perfect 
(T^Xeioj).  He  deals  with  sin  by  way  of  sacrifice. 
This  He  did  once  when  He  offered  up  Himself 
(7").  'Once  in  the  end  of  the  world  hath  he 
appeared  to  put  away  sin  by  tlie  sacrifice  of  him- 
self (9-»).  'Christ  was  once  offered  to  bear  the 
sins  of  many'  (v.^^).  'For  by  one  offering  he  hath 
perfected  for  ever  ['  to  perfect,'  TeXeioui/,  '  is  to  bring 
into  the  true  condition  of  those  in  covenant'] 
them  that  are  sanctified'  ['to  sanctify,'  d7idfet>', 
'  is  to  make  to  belong  to  God,'  Davidson]. 

Associated  with  the  same  conception  of  sacrifice 
are  tlie  references  in  the  Epistle  to  the  blood  of 
Christ.    He  entered  into  the  Holy  Place  by  (Si6.) 


ACCOMMODATION 


ACCOMMODATION 


15 


His  blood  (9'2).  The  blood  of  Christ,  who  offered 
Himself  to  God,  purges  the  conscience  from  dead 
■works  (v."'').  We  have  boldness  to  enter  into  the 
Holiest  by  the  blood  of  Christ  (lO").  Access  is 
therefore  dependent  on  Christ's  Person  and  work. 
In  reliance  on  His  sacrifice  (10'''),  along  a  way  con- 
secrated by  His  deatli  (v.-"),  mindful  of  their  High 
Priest  (v.-')  in  heaven,  believers  are  exhorted  to 
clravj  near  to  God.  The  exhortation  in  4'"  to  come 
boldly  unto  the  throne  of  grace  is  also  foinided  on 
Jesus  having  passed  into  the  heavens  as  our  great 
High  Priest :  and  it  adds  the  thought  of  Christ's 
sympathy,  as  having  experienced  infirmities  and 
temptations  Himself,  in  order  to  encourage  sup- 
pliants for  mercy  and  grace.  The  truth  put  hor- 
tatively  in  these  passages  is  also  taught  directly 
in  7^,  where  access  is  linked  with  intercession. 
This  intercession,  of  which  an  example  is  preserved 
in  Jn  17,  is  continued  in  heaven,  and  derives  its 
power  from  the  sacrifice  which  Christ  offered  on 
earth. 

(5)  Faith  is  the  subjective  condition  of  those 
who  have  access  (Pio  3-'*  5-,  Eph  3'-).  '  He  who 
comes  to  God  nmst  believe  that  he  is'  (He  11'^). 
The  eleventh  chapter  of  Hebrews  is  a  record  of 
faith  in  action,  faith  as  illustrated  in  the  lives  of 
saints,  who  first  came  to  God,  and  then  acted  and 
endured,  because  sustained  by  the  strength  of  God. 


The'  Deati 


ACCOMMODATION 

i.  The  Incarnation  as 
<a)  The  birth  and 
(i)  The  temptatit 
{c)  The  mental  and  spiritual  yulf erinj^: 


'.j'pusaur,  4lli  series  [ISilUJ, 
D.  A.  MACKINNON. 


e  example, 
of  Jesus. 
Ho  was  subjected. 

xperienced  by 


Incidents  inferentially  valuable 


Him  of   the 


life. 

(c)  Revelation  of  these  limitations  involved  in  the 
spontaneity  of   His  attitude  towards  (1)  His 
fellow-men,  (2)  His  Father, 
iii.  Jesus'  activity  as  Teacher. 

(o)  Repeated  assertions  as  to  nature  of  the  authority 

wielded  by  Him. 
(ft)  Objective  of  His  message  defined  by  (1)  the  national 
characteristics  of  His  fellow  countrymen ;  (2) 
their  theolotfical  and  traditional  beliefs — 
(a.)  Messianic  kin^'dom. 
(/3)  Doctrine  of  an^el-mediation. 
iy)  Current  conceptions  of  the  power  of  Satan 
and  of  evil  spirits. 
(c)  Methods  employed  by  Jesus  in  His  teachins; :  (1) 
parables  purposely  and  economically  utilized ; 
(2)  use  of  popular  fljjurative  expressions;  (3) 
employment  of  aphorism,  allegory,  etc. ;  (4)  ac- 
ceptance of  current  conceptions  as  to — 
(«)  Natural  phenomena. 
(/3)  Anthropology. 
IV.  Attitude  of  Jesus  towards  the  Messianic  hopes  of  His  day. 
(a)  Assumption  of  the  title  '  Son  of  Man.' 
(ii)  Attitude  towards  the  Jewish  Canon  of  Scripture 
observable  in  His  acceptance  of  (1)  its  general 
historicity  ;(2)the  traditional  view  of  the  author- 
ship and  intei-pretation  of  Ps  110. 
v.  Summary  and  practical  conclusion. 
Literature. 

The  term  'accommodation'  may  be  defined  as 
thr  ].rineipl,.  or  huv  Hccor.lin;:To  which  G„d  adapts 
ills  S,. If-r,. V,. lat  iu„  1..  tin- ,:,|K,ciliu>.-iiKlIii,iitaliuns 

earliest  c)ii\vanls,"ll,is  S.'lt  iv\  ,.|;,'(  i,„r  ,'if  (;,„|  has 
been  made,  and  has  its  own  .h.ir.ird  1 1,|  i,  frai  ims. 
Between  the  time  when  www  cunr,  m  .j  ,,i  (,,„|  j,', 

the  rudimentary  anthro]>(iiii(ii  |.lii- i  i:;:  :;•  ;,iiil 

the  time  of  the  highest  aUaiinnunl  l.y  Ihr  hniii.in 
mind  of  His  Nature  and  Being  (Jn  4-^'-).  every 
conceivable  gradation  occurs  in  the  extent  anil 
character  of  God's  revelation  of  Himself  to  men. 


i.  The  Incarnation  as  the  supreme  example. 
—This  is  not  the  place  to  enter  into  a  detailed 
iniiuiry  as  to  tlie  nature  and  extent  of  the  self- 
imposed  limitations  of  Clu'ist,  or  how  far  the 
modern  theories  of  the  kcnosis  (wh.  .see)  are  justified 
by  revelation,  directly  or  by  implication.  It  will  be 
sufficient  here  to  indicate  how  far  the  Gospels,  as 
we  have  them,  point  to  a  real  adoption  by  Him  of 
the  conditions  of  that  life  which  He  assumed,  and 
invoh-ed  Him  ex  necessitate  in  the  limitations  of  a 
real  human  life. 

(a)  So  complete  is  the  accommodation  to  the 
capacities  and  requirements  of  infanthood,  that 
St.  Luke  scruples  not  to  record,  as  part  of  the 
angelic  message,  the  finding  by  the  shepherds  of 
.  .  .  'a  babe  wrapped  in  swaddling  clothes  and 
lying  in  a  manger'  (Lk  2"),  and  St.  Matthew 
makes  the  safety  of  His  childhood  depend  on  the 
vigilance  and  care  of  Joseph  antl  His  mother,  their 
return  from  enforced  exile  being  conditioned  by 
tlie  fact  that '  tliey  aie  dead  that  sought  the  young 
child's  life'  (Mt  'I-").  All  this  presupposes,  of 
course.  His  development  along  the  lines  of  human 
growth,  which  is  boldly  outlined  by  St.  Luke  in 
the  much  debated  passage,  'Jesus  advanced  in 
wisdom  and  stature,  and  in  favour  with  God 
and  men'  (Lk  2^^-).  If  tliese  words  are  to  be  in- 
terijreted  according  to  their  obvious  meaning,  they 
imply  a  moral  and  spiritual  as  well  as  a  phj'sical 
advancement  along  lines  as  normal  as,  for  ex- 
ample, those  which  marked  the  growth  of  the 
child  Samuel.  We  may  say,  indeed,  that  there  is 
a  marked  reference  to  the  words  .  .  .  Kal  ayaObv 
Kol  /JiCTO.  Kvpiou  Kal  fiera  dc^paiTrwc  of  1  S  2-^  [LXX]. 
'  Christ's  growth  was  from  His  birtli  a  holy  growth ' 
(Martensen,  Christian  Dogmatk-s,  Eng.  tr.  p.  282); 
but  the  words  'the  child  grew  and  waxed  strong' 
(Lk  2-'")  point  to  the  essentially  human  conditions 
under  which  that  growth  was  eU'ected. 

The  sole  incident  in  connexion  with  His  boyhood 
which  has  come  down  to  us  in  our  reliable  authori- 
ties is  that  of  His  visit  to  the  temple  (Lk  a'lif-). 
Short,  however,  as  it  is,  it  throws  a  clear  light  on 
the  nature  and  reality  of  the  advance  'in  wisdom 
and  favcjur,'  and  its  uninterruijted  continuity  is 
well  exproM'd  in  \'.*',  if  we  give  the  word  irXij^oi/- 
(Hei/oi/  its  |ir(i|icr  sij;iiificance.  Day  by  day  He  was 
being  lilled  \silh  wisdom.  Even  at  this  age.  His 
marvellous  intellectual  powers  displayed  them- 
selves, and  already  He  exhibited  that  keen  insight 
which  in  after  life  He  so  frequently  sliowed.  "riie 
verb  used  to  express  the  amazement  of  the  learned 
teachers  {i^iaTavro)  shows  how  much  these  men 
wondered  at  the  Boy's  knowledge  and  at  the  depth 
of  His  understanding  (tiri  rrj  avviaei).  Notwith- 
standing this  feature  of  tlie  narrative,  the  historian 
is  far  from  Icailinu  n-.  U>  su)»|iiiM'  that  there  was 
anythinu  suiicruai  mal  in  tin-  matter.  He  rather 
represents  .ii-sns  as  .a  l«iy  ni  n.  ^inL:ularly  inquiring 
turn  of  mind,  who  ileliherately  determines  to  find 
out  for  Himself  the  solution  of  many  problems 
which  puzzled  Him  during  the  course  of  His  home 
education,  and  for  which  He  could  find  no  satis- 
factory explanation  fronvHis  teachers  in  Nazareth. 
He  sits  down  (/v-aflij-oMfo")  at  the  feet  of  these  great 
teachers  (^l^aff^-d^u;')  as  a  learner  (ef.  St.  Paul's 
description  of  his  own  education  in  the  Law,  Ac 
22').  Nor  are  we  to  look  upon  the  circumstance 
in  the  temple  as  constituting  an  exhibition  of 
miraculous  intellectual  acquirements  in  the  ordi- 
nary sense  of  that  word.  All  Jewish  children 
from  their  'earliest  infancy'  (.ios.  <.  Apion.  ii.  18) 
were  made  to  ae(|nire  a  Kii..«  le.l-e  <,f  and  to  prac- 
tise the  preccjits  df  the  Law.  We  have  only  to 
compare  the  tukan  narrative  with  that  given  in 
the  Arabic  Gospel  of  the  Infancy  to  .see  how_  com- 
pletely natural  and  human  is  the  whole  incident, 
and  how  entirely  the  boyhood  of  Jesus  was  subject 


16 


ACCOMMODATION 


ACCOMMODATION 


to  boyhood's  conditions  and  limitations.  In  the 
latter  He  is  represented  as  cross-examining  each 
of  the  doctors,  and  instructing  them  not  only  in 
matters  appertaining  to  the  Law  and  the  Prophets, 
but  iu  astronomy,  physics,  metaphysics,  and  other 
branches  of  current  erudition  (see  chs.  xlviii.-lii. ). 

Without  entering  into  an  examination  of  tlie  words  contained 
in  His  answer  to  His  mother's  gentle  rebuke,  or  what  relation 
they  bear  to  His  subsequent  complete  and  developed  self- 
consciousness,  it  may  be  said  that  they  do  not  necessarily  in- 
volve all  that  is  sometimes  imported  into  them.  Even  the  im- 
plied antithesis  o  ^urr,p  irou  of  v. -is  and  h  ^o/";  toZ  txtpoi  u^  of  v.-is 
probably  means  nothing  more  than  a  reminder  that  the  claims 
of  His  heavenly  Father  take  precedence  of  all  others,  and  bears 
testimony  to  a  profound  appreciation  of  the  transcendent 
reality  of  His  Divine  Sonship  (cf.  B.  Weiss,  Leben  Jesu,  Eng.  tr. 
vol.  i.  p.  278  ff.).  It  is  true,  we  have  no  right  to  assume  that 
the  Boy  Jesus  had  no  knowledge  of  His  unique  relationship  to 
God  (cf.  Gore,  Diss.  p.  78,  n.  1).  The  use  of  the  possessive 
particle  ^«i.  points  to  the  probabihty  that  His  powers  of  realiza- 
tion in  this  respect  were  as  wonderful  as  the  development  of  His 
mental  faculties  in  another.  This  is,  however,  far  from  saying 
that  Jesus  at  this  early  age  possessed  the  consciousness  of  His 
Messiahship,  which  only  came  to  full  maturity  at  the  next 
turning-point  of  His  life  (see  Sanday's  art. '  Jesus  Christ '  in  Hast- 
ings' DB,  vol.  ii.  p.  6IM) ;  and  the  short  but  graphic  touch  with 
which  St.  Luke  portravs  for  us  His  surprise  at  His  parents' 
method  of  search  (n  ot,  ilr.rvit  u.i;),  and  His  sustained  sub- 
ordination  (?»  iiTincurrifutK  aiTs'.V  gives  the  idea  of  a  continuance 
of  His  subjection  to  the  conditions  of  His  home  life)  to  the 
authority  of  Joseph  and  Mary  shows  how  completely  the  Son  of 
God  '  emptied  Himself,'  fupfi.t  ioixnu  Xafim,,  Ph  27. 

One  incidental  reference  to  this  period  of  Jesus' 
life  in  the  Synoptic  narrative  further  deepens  the 
impressiveness  of  this  self-humUiation.  St.  Mark 
relates  that  on  the  occasion  of  one  of  His  visits  to 
Nazareth  (Mk  6')  His  teaching  was  met  by  His 
fellow-townsmen  wAth  the  scornful  question,  '  Is 
not  this  the  carpenter?'  (6  Wktuk).*  This  single 
question  gives  point  to  the  more  general  remark  of 
St.  Luke  mentioned  above,  and  interprets  his  use 
of  the  analytical  or  periphrastic  tense  (fiv  inroraa- 
ff6/xetos:  for  the  use  of  this  form  of  the  verb  the 
reader  is  recommended  to  see  Burton's  NT  Moods 
and  Tenses,  p.  11  f.  and  p.  16  ;  see  also  Blass,  Gram, 
of  NT  Greek,  p.  203). 

His  whole  life,  then,  previous  to  the  events  which 
led  to  His  public  ministry,  was  lived  under  the 
simple  conditions  which  obtained  in  a  humble  but 
pious  country  home,  and  His  answer  to  the  Baptist's 
remonstrance,  '  it  becometh  us  (irpiTroi/  idTlv  ruiiv) 
to  fulfil  all  righteousness  '  (Mt  3'°),  is  the  result  of 
a  training  characteristic  in  its  naivetd  of  a  house 
whose  inmates  'waited  for  tlie  redemption  of 
Israel '  (Lk  2^),  and  were  strict  observers  of  the 
laws  governing  the  religious  life  of  the  Jews.  See, 
further,  artt.  Boyhood  and  Childhood. 

It  may  not  be  out  of  place  to  note  a  slight  but  significant 
difference  in  the  method  of  introducing  the  narrative  of  Jesus' 
baptism  between  the  Lukan  and  the  other  two  S.ynoptic 
versions.  The  latter  speak  of  Jesus  as  coming  from  Gahlee  for 
the  special  purpose  of  being  baptized  (see  fragment  of  Gosp. 
Heb.  m  Jerome's  adv.  Pelag.  3)— t»D  /3arrT,<r((i.«j  iJt'  «Jio:  (Mt 
3"),  ««i  i3«TT,VSr  iTi'Iaiv.eiy(Mk  19),— and  seem  to  be  conscious 
of  a  certain  amount  of  astonishment  on  account  of  the  act. 
The  Lukan  narrative,  on  the  other  hand,  gives  the  story  an 
incidental  character  ;  and  by  its  uses  of  the  participle,  both  in 
describing  the  act  of  baptism  and  also  His  prayer  which  im- 
mediately followed  {x»i  'I»iff-eD  ^etTittrQUroi  xct}  irpeirtvx^fA'.tov, 
Lk  321),  the  Evangelist  gives  a  human  touch  to  the  whole  scene 
which  harmonizes  well  with  the  style  of  his  history  in  this 
place. 

(5)  It  is,  however,  when  we  come  to  the  scene  of 
His  temptation,  and  study  it  in  connexion  with  the 
revelation  which  He  had  just  received  from  His 
Father,  that  we  begin  to  appreciate  the  full  mean- 
ing of  the  words  of  He  4'^  that  Jesus  was  One  who 
•  in  all  points  '  {Kara  irdxra)  was  tempted  like  our- 
selves. Whatever  be  the  interpretation  we  are 
inclined  to  put  upon  the  nature  and  method  of  the 
temptations  (see  art.  TEMPTATION)  to  which  He 
was  subjected,  one  thing  must  be  uncompromis- 

•  This  would  seem  to  be  the  original  and  correct  form  of  the 


formed  (see  Wright,  Sijnopais  o/thc  Gospels  in  Greek,  p.  52  f.). 


inglj'  insisted  on — the  struggle  was  a  real  one,  it 
was  intense,  it  was  necessary  (lirp€T(v  yap  aiiru:  .  .  . 
dia  iradTtiiaTtav  TeXeiu<roi,  He  2'°).  It  is  necessary 
that  we  should  be  on  our  guard  against  falling 
into  the  errors  which  mar,  for  example,  the  work 
of  Hilary  of  Poitiers  in  his  controversy  with  the 
Arians  (see  especially  his  Libri  XII.  de  Trinitate, 
Liber  x.).  To  explain  away  the  reality  of  the 
sufi'erings  of  Jesus  arising  out  of  His  ditt'erent 
temptations,  whether  these  sufferings  are  mental 
or  physical,  is  of  the  essence  of  Docetism  ;  and  a 
docetie  Christ  has  never  yet  appealed,  and  we  are 
confident  never  wUl  appeal,  to  the  conscious  needs 
of  humanity.  Jesus  Himself  must  have  been  the 
ultimate  source  from  which  the  story  of  the  Temp- 
tation became  known,  and  it  is  very  evident  that 
the  impression  made  upon  His  mind  by  the  terrible 
ordeal  was  most  profound.  He  had  just  received 
from  His  Father  the  revelation  of  His  unique  Son- 
ship.*  St.  Matthew  and  St.  Luke  agree  in  prefix- 
ing to  two  of  the  temptations  the  words,  '  If  thou 
art  the  Son  of  God,'  the  essence  of  the  trial  con- 
sisting in  the  danger  of  doubting  the  truth  which 
had  been  disclosed  to  His  consciousness,  and  of 
testing  the  fidelity  of  God  by  a  thaumaturgical 
exhibition.  There  is  also  a  subtle  psychological 
and  spiritual  fitness  in  the  character  of  the  first  of 
the  series,  which  .speaks,  perhaps,  more  for  its  real 
force  than  any  direct  statement  could  do.  The 
appeal  came  to  Jesus  in  the  hour  and  on  the  side 
of  His  physical  exhaustion,  and  this  is  in  direct  ac- 
cordance with  the  general  experience  of  humanity. 
Temptation  becomes  infinitely  stronger  and  more 
dangerous  when  physical  weakness  comes  to  the 
aid  of  the  external  promptings  of  the  Evil  One. 

That  Jesus  believed,  and  led  those  to  whom  He  recounted 
His  experiences  to  believe,  in  the  near  presence  of  a  personal 
spirit  of  evil  during  this  critical  period  of  conflict,  is  verj- 
evident  (see  Gore,  IHss.  p.  24  ff.).  Moreover,  this  Evil  One 
(i  liiffoXm,  Mt  45  8- 11,  Lk  43. 6- 13  ;  ;  S<tT«.i;,  Mk  113)  is  a  prince 
standing  at  the  head  of  a  kingdom  which  is  the  direct  anti- 
thesis of  the  kingdom  of  God.  According  to  the  Lukan  version 
of  this  incident,  Jesus  expected  to  meet  again  in  personal  con- 
flict this  great  spiritual  enemy.    The  devil  left  Him  only  till 


ing 

_..^ ._    _  .  great  struggle  with 

His  arch-foe  was  about  to  recommence  —  'The  prince  of  the 
world  (i  -rai  x<,i7Lu,v  ipx"'.  J"  14™)  is  (now)  coming'  (cf.  121). 
When  His  arrest,  following  upon  His  betrayal,  was  about  to 
become  an  accomplished  fact.  He  recognized  the  return  of  the 
spirit  of  evil,  and  that  the  return  was  with  power  (.i  iiiii(r,^  -roD 
«»T»M,  Lk  2253). 

Perhaps  there  is  no  more  vivid  presentation  of 
the  profound  reality  of  His  subjection  to  tempta- 
tion than  that  afforded  by  the  narrative  dealing 
with  the  events  which  occurred  in  Ciesarea  Phi- 
lippi.  It  is  almost  possibln  tn  sfp  tlic  startled  look 
of  horror  on  Jesus'  fac<>  ,-  If''  li-t'iH  to  Peter's 
well-meant,  if  indi-screet,  i  riii..ii  i  i.iii' i'.  In  the 
words  of  His  chief  Aposil.-  11'-  li.ai-  again  the 
voice  of  Satan  (cf.  Mt  Ib-^  and  Mk  s^),  and  the 
almost  fierce  way  in  which  He  rebukes  Peter 
points  to  the  conclusion  that  this  is  not  the  first 
time  the  suggestion  has  whispered  itself  into  His 
ear,  to  forego  the  bitter  taste  which  He  knows  He 
must  experience  before  His  work  is  ended. 

((•)  Before  passing  from  the  consideration  of  this 
aspect  of  the  Incarnation  viewed  as  the  self- 
adaptation  of  the  Son  of  God  to  the  conditions 
of  humanity,  we  must  refer  shortly  to  some  of 
the  details  of  the  last,  greatest,  and  most  awful 
of  the  temptations  to  which  Jesus  was  exposed. 
Some  have  sought  to  explain  away  the  reality 
both  of  the  temptations  and  the  sufferings,  through 
a  vain  desire  to  exalt  His  Divine  at  the  expense  of 

*  For  our  present  purpose  it  is  immaterial  whether  we  reject 
the  words  of  the  Textus  Receptus  %,  J  i  viit  /at,  i  iytt^ti-rif,  i> 
«••;  r.iimn  in  favour  of  the  Western  reading  of^  Lk  3"  i/i«  itm 


vr«<i  «,  which  Resch  and  Blass  aa  well  as 
others'seem  to  prefer  (cf.  Blass,  Ev.  secundum  Lucam,  etc., 
Pncfatio,  pp.  xxxvi-xxxvii). 


ACCOMMODATION^ 


ACOOMMODATlOIsr 


17 


His  human  nature  ;  but  this  is  not  the  metliod  of 
interpreting  the  life  of  Christ  which  brings  out  of  it 
God's  answer  to  man's  deepest  and  most  conscious 
needs.  Tliere  can  liardly  bo  a  doubt  in  tlie  mind 
of  any  unprejudiced  reader  tliat  tlie  Synoptista 
place  on  record  their  accounts  of  the  Passion  be- 
lieving the  facts  detailed  to  Ije  real  and  objective. 
The  words  of  Jesus  are  the  expressions  of  a  mind 
torn  witli  the  mental  and  .spiritual  conflict ;  and 
if  Lk  ii''-  "  be  not  a  mere  Western  interpolation, 
the  element  of  awful  fear  entered  into  and  heiglit- 
ened  His  sufferings.  It  is  only  in  this  way  that 
we  can  interpret  the  words  eu  dyui'i(}.  See  art. 
Agony.  The  thrice-repeated  prayer  of  Jesus,  in 
which  He  speaks  of  His  own  will  as  distinct  from, 
but  completely  subordinate  to,  His  Father's,  adds 
to  the  impression,  already  gained,  of  the  purely 
human  feelings  exhibited  by  Him  in  His  struggle, 
and  recalls  to  our  mind  tlie  words  in  His  own 
form  of  prayer,  '  Thy  will  be  done  '  (Mt  6'") ;  thus 
connecting,  in  the  greatest  crisis  of  His  life,  His 
own  with  our  absolute  dependence  upon  the  ex- 
pressed will  of  His  Father. 

The  writer  of  the  Fourth  Gospel  records  sayings 
of  Jesus  which  are  very  sindlar  to  this.  After  the 
conversation  of  Jesus  witli  the  woman  of  Samaria, 
He_  explains  to  His  disciples  the  all-absorbing, 
satisfying  character  of  His  life's  work,  whicli  is  to 
do  the  will  {rb  6iAi,Ma)  of  His  Father  (Jn  4*').  In 
other  places  He  distinguishes  between  His  own 
ei'Krjfj.a  and  that  of  His  Father  (Jn  5™  &^) ;  and 
this  is  the  word  used  by  the  Synoptic  writers  when 
recording  the  w.nds  (,f  ,1rsus'  ],niyer  iuGethsemane. 
On  what  grounds  S(.  l.nUr  . mploys  the  verb /3o(5- 
Xo|nai  (22^-)  ill  this  <c.iiiirxi(iii  we  do  not  know.  If 
the  choice  is  not  .•KM'iilciit,  it  is  evidence  that  even 
in  His  great  affliction  Jesus  bowed  Himself  to  the 
deliberate  determination  of  God  (for  the  connexion 
between  /SoiJXo^uai  and  SAw  see  Cremer,  pp.  143 11'. 
and  726  f.). 

A  very  pathetic  touch  is  given  hy  St.  Matthew  to  the  por- 
traiture of  this  scene  in  tlie  garden.  Both  lie  and  St.  Marie 
relate  how  Jesus  expressed  a  wish  thnt  Mis  three  discinles 
should  be  on  their  ^'iKud.  St.  .Mark,  Ijcwiver,  leaves  the  im- 
pression  t  li:il     II-   i^.'^I'lid-    I  Ii.   ill    \v  ,,!<   Ir   .1  :   ill;-l      I  1 1 .  ■   I  .  -  .   -l  I .  M- ■  [  I 


the 


companionship  of  fait 
solitude.  The  same 
Jesus  to  His  sleeping  c 
rest')  which  is  omit'tei 
sible  to  discover  a  tin: 
as  if  the  reflection  «■ 
even  of  that  lojal  i 
Him  ;  and  that,  Iom, 


to  find  a, ■         ,  1 1 1^  Father's  will  other  tin;, 

ingthL-i id.leath.     Itw.asintlh 

submisMnii  , ,,,,    li I  iii^  niost  effective  wea|piui  ,,i   ,,,,., 

re.ahty  of  His  human  nature,  and  an  example  of  Himself  .arry'^ 
ni^  out  to  fultilment  the  principle  which  He  inculcated  as  a 
^'Uide  to  others— 'He  that  humbleth  himself  shall  heeialted' 
(Lk  IS"  1411). 

ii.  Incident.s  inficrentiai.ly  valuable. ~{fO 
If  we  scrutinize  carefully  the  method  of  resistance 
which  Jesus  adopted  in  His  llrst  great  conflict,  wi> 
cannot  fail  to  sec  lli<-  results  of   Mint  nior.tl   ami 

.spiritual  education  uhi.-li  \\;,„   il l].-ii;irl.-ri-l  ir 

element  of  His  .lom.-lir  sni  n.„,„liii'  -.  .uul  u.ll, 
which  we  becoim-   inridrnlalK'   ;umi 


tone  of  His  iciiiaik  to  llj,  n 

The  words  iy   ruls   roO    irar,.., 

profoundly   He  was   ijupii'ss. 

His  Divine  Sonship  ;    ,-ind,  « 

were   the   outconie   of   Ills 

thought  underlying  much  of  the  langiiage'of  tl 

<H .     In  repelhug  tlie  Satanic  attacks  of  the  Temp 

tation   He  reveals   to  us  a  mind  steeped  in   tlu 


I  I  he  temple. 
■y-')  show  how 
tlie  sense  of 
believe,  they 
ith    the 


literature  of,  and  full  to  overflowing  with  spiritual 
principles  culled  from,  the  Book  of  Deuteronomy. 
Nor  was  it  only  when  He  felt  the  sore  stress  of 
temptation  that  His  belief  in  the  truth  of  God's 
revelation  given  in  the  OT,  and  His  profound 
knowledge  of  its  contents,  came  to  His  aid.  In 
the  hour  of  His  intensest  bodily  and  mental  agony, 
the  words  of  Ps  22  leaped  instinctively  to  His 
mind,  and  gave  expression  to  the  feeling  of  awful 
loneliness  which  then  hung  over  Him  like  a  black 
cloud.  If  in  moments  of  deepest  feeling,  when  the 
soul  almost  without  conscious  effort  turns  to  the 
sources  whence  it  drew  its  early  sustenance,  Jesus 
had  recourse  to  the  words  of  the  OT,  and  was  able 
to  extract  from  that  wide  field  of  literature  all 
tliat  was  purest  and  most  spiritual,  it  was  not,  we 
feel  sure,  without  Ion",  deep  study  and  pondering 
over  the  meaning  of  the  dilferent  writers  from  His 
childliood  onwards.  Kemembering,  then,  this 
feature  in  the  mental  and  sjiiritual  equipment  of 
Christ,  it  will  not  be  surprising  if  we  find  Him 
displaying  the  same  |i;,l,ii  ,,f  mind  in  almost  every 
variety  of  cirruni-lanee  ol  \\liicli  He  found  Him- 
self the  centre.  St.  .Mallheu-  and  St.  Mark  tell 
us  that,  at  I  lie  time  of  St.  Peters  confession  at 
Ca'savea  !'liili|i|ii,  lie  for  the  first  time  spoke  to 
His  dis,i|,l.s  ol  (ho  fatal  end  in  store  for  Him. 
St.  M.illlu'W  cliaily  points  out  that  this  was  a 
new  departure    -awo  t:,t,   iJr^aTo,  v.r.X.  (16-'),— and 

that  He  cuntmu.illy  i,-vr I   to  (he  .subject  as  if 

desircnis  of  impressuie  I  lie  disriples  with  the  im- 
possibility of  His  esca|.e.  Wo  do  not  know  at 
what  precise  period  Jesus  was  convinced  that 
there  could  inevitably  be  only  one  ending  to  His 
work,  or  whether  He  knew  from  the  beginning, 
and  merely  waited  for  a  fitting  time  to  prepare 
His  di.sciples  for  the  slio,  k.  W,.  do,  however, 
know  that  at  this  peiiod  II,.  w.is  eoiivinced  not 
merely  by  the  'siuns  oi  the  tiitie^  (Mt  Itl-'),  which 
all  pointed  in  (liis  dneelion,  hu,  also  l.yHis  know- 


Mo  '--,  and   (he  prophets, 

"I,    eoneel  lliug    Hiui,    that 


d     -I 


eiilly  e\i^tr((  111  .lesii.^  iiiiiid,  liotwecn 
>1  (he  l;,.|,list  .and  His  own  eomiiie- end 
«e  kno,v  (luit  til.:  murder  ol  John  made 
i)..|.ivssion  upon  llim  (.Mt  14'^  cf.  Jn 
ps  we  ni.iy  bo  allowed  to  conjecture 
reumsta nee  marked  an  advance  in  the 
lirist  towards  a  great  synthesis  —  the 
III  of  the  Conquering  with  the  SuU'er- 

It    T;;;,-    yi-yOXTTKI.  H.7.?-..  of   Jlli  fl'^,  sIlOWS   Wlut  it 


mo  1  \\  id"i,\  e.i;n  assed,  and,  in- 
diila.ailL   p.i.sayo   in    the    Gospel 

w  hich  Jesus  is  said  to  have  dis- 
lodge of  the  time  of  His  glorious 

1 1  hew  and  St.  Mark  record  His 

o  I   identical  words,  except  that 

.1  1"-^   II    I ly  the  addition  of /iiivos 

which  are  common  to 

lid  .Ml.  i:.    I.     In  both  narratives 


stand  lli^  n-nil  -elf-designation  'Son  of  Man,' 
occuninu  as  tins  (ale  does  in  the  context  of  both 
passages,  Mt  -'i-'-  -',  Mk  13=8).  How  are  «'e  to 
interpret,  then,  this  self-revelation  which  emanates 
from  the  consciousness  of  Jesus  ?  Many  expedients 
have  been  tried  to  get  over  the  logical  conclusion 


ACCOMMODATION- 


ACCOMMODATION 


derivable  from  a  literal  exegesis,  some  even  going 
so  far  as  to  suggest  that  the  passage  is  an  Arian 
interpolation. 


his  Orations  against  the  A 
xliv.,  where  these  passaj^es  occur  (Bi 
andria,  in  his  capacity  of  malleits  A 
the  same  :  "     ' 


Athanasius  would  almost  dichotomize  the  Person  of  Christ 
111  his  effort  at  explanation.  Indeed,  he  plainly  asserts  that  the 
Son  did  know  '  the  hour  of  the  end  of  all  things.'  But  as  heing 
the  Word  (i,-  ui.  /(>«)  He  knew,  though  at  the  same  time  as 
man  (i,-  hi  a.>epi,Tc;)  He  is  ignorant  of  it  (iyvot?).  In  the  same 
context  he  maintains  that  Jesus  acted  deliberately  in  speaking 
of  His  iRnorance  for  the  sake  of  'economy'  (a»i.vo«  TiTo;«i. 
\V  ^^^' ^.'  ^*^P»*^'^^'<  awTfly  >Airoupyia.?  iXiyiv,  *  ovls  i  Ti'eV  ').     See 

"  k.  ii.  chapters  xliii.  and 
ght's  ed.).  Cyril  of  Alex- 
lanorxim^  speaks  in  much 
re  unguardedly,  as  if  he 
were  unwilling,  as  indeed  most  of  the  Fathers  were,  to  face  the 
theological  and  exegetical  difficulties  of  this  whole  question. 
.Most  nt  us  will  sympathize  with  the  strong  and  vigorous  language 
of  Theodoret  with  respect  to  the  evasions  so  commonly  current. 
*  If,'  he  says,  '  He  knew  the  day,  but  being  desirous  to  conceal 
it  said  He  did  not  know,  you  see  in  what  blasphemy  the  infer- 
ence lands  us.    For  the  Truth  lies '  (Repr.  XII.  capp.  Cyril  in 

There  is  also  a  considerable  body  of  modern  thought  which 
seems  to  reject  all  serious  consideration  of  this  aspect  of  the 
*        ight  and  reverent  attitude 
■e  only  to  read  such  a  book 
eral  articles  in  the  Ch.  Q. 
earnestly 


their  most  obvii 


as  Hall's  The  Kenntic  Thet 
lierifxc  (e.g.  vols,  xliv.,  xlv, . 
contend  against  the  frank  acceptance; 
meaning,  of  the  words  of  Jesus. 

However  mysterious  the  conclusion  at  which  we 
are  forced  to  arrive  may  be,  and  however  incon- 
sistent the  different  parts  of  our  Christological 
system  may  appear,  it  is  necessary  for  us  candidly 
to  accept  this  self-revelation  of  Jesus  as  being 
strictly  in  accord  with  His  personal  consciousness, 
and,  moreover,  as  being  an  infallible  indication  of 
the  coiuiilete  and  perfect  manner  in  which  the 
Divine  >\  ord  acconmiodated  Himself  to  the  con- 
ditions of  the  race  whose  nature  He  took. 

It  would,  again,  be  impossible  and  absurd  to 
treat  the  incident  of  the  barren  fig-tree,  related  by 
both  St.  Matthew  {^V^-^)  and  St.  ISIark  (ll"-»),  as 
if  it  were  a  mere  scenic  display  for  the  purpose  of 
solemnly  inculcating  a  moral  lesson.  Yet  this  i.s 
practically  what  we  are  asked  to  do  by  writers 
who  refuse  to  believe  that  the  mind  of  Jesus  was 
no  more  exempt  from  human  characteristics  than 
His  body  was  from  the  sufferings  incident  to 
earthly  life.  On  this  occasion  He  felt  the  pangs  of 
hunger,  and  He  believed  He  saw  the  natural 
means  of  satisfying  His  neetl.  We  could'look  for 
no  more  convincing  example,  in  His  life',  of  the 
complete  adaptation  of  Himself  to  all  the  laws 
governing  mortal  existence.  Other  instances  there 
are  in  abundance  which  point  in  the  same  direc- 
tion, viz.  to  His  complete  and  willing  submission 
to  the  limitations  which  condition  the  human  mode 
of  life.  He  hungered,  as  we  have  seen  (Mt  4^=,  Mk 
ll>==IMt'21'8  Jii  4'i),  and  sympathized  with  those 
who  suflered  thus  (Mt  15'==  Mk  8=,  cf.  Mt.  12"f-and 
25«'-«).  He  suffered  the  pangs  of  thirst  (Jn  4' 
and  19=«).  He  experienced  physical  weariness  after 
prolonged  exertion  (Jn  4«,  cf.  Mt  8"= Mk  i^).  Kot- 
witlistandmg  O.  Holtzmann's  interj.retation  of  Lk 
9^  (  =  Mt  8=»)  It  IS  very  certain  that  there  is  a  per- 
sonal reference  to  His  homeless  condition  in  these 
words,  and  we  notice  a  quiet  satlness,  as  if  He  felt 
the  loneliness  attaching  to  a  life  of  continued 
wandering  (cf.  O.  Holtzmann's  Lebcn  Jcsu,  En"  tr 
p.  169,  note  3,  and  p.  303  f.). 

(c)  The  element  of  spontaneity  discoverable  in 
the  words  and  actions  of  Jesus,  expressive  of  His 
attitude  either  towards  His  fellow-men  or  towards 
God,  lends  force  to  what  we  have  been  saying 
about  limitations  involved  in  His  manhood.  (1)  He 
experienced  feelings  of  keen  disapiiointment  with 
the  people  of  His  country  for  tlieir  lack  of  spiritu- 
ality (Mk  81=  6«,  Jn  n»-38,  cf.  Mk  9",  Jn  14",  Mk 
Si-ff.  6<=Lk  4=^  Lk  8==  =  Mk  4«  =  Mt  8=«,  Mk  3=  7" 
S'=  10="'-  =  Lk  18"*-»'=Mt  19i«-=^).  On  the  other 
hand,  He  expressed  astonishment  at  the  spiritual 


receptivity  of  some  who  had  no  claim  to  be  amongst 
the  number  of  the  chosen  people  of  God  (Mt  8'"  = 
Lk  7»,  cf.  Mt  15=«=Mk  7=»),  though  He  recognizes 
the  fact  that  this  phenomenon  was  not  confined  to 
His  own  experience  (Mt  12"'-  =  Lk  IP"-,  Lk  4»-='). 
The  legitimate  inference  to  be  drawn  from  the  pas- 
sage last  mentioned  is  not  so  much  that  the  Divine 
love  flowed  over  spontaneously  towards  those  who 
were  outside  the  Abrahamic  covenant,  as  that 
faith  and  trust,  often  found  amongst  the  heathen, 
drew  towards  them  God's  gracious  intervention, 
just  as  the  lack  of  these  spiritual  graces  amongst 
His  own  people  tended  to  dry  up  the  fountain  of 
God's  active  love  (Mk  6'-«  =  Mt  13»-'>«=Lk  4'6«  [cf. 
Pluramer,  in  loc.']). 

One  of  the  methods  adopted  by  Jesus  for  pur- 
poses of  instruction  was  that  wiVa  which  the  name 
of  Socrates  is  usually  linked.  Starting  from  pre- 
mises universally  recognized  as  valid,  He  leads 
His  hearers  onwards  by  question  and  answer  to 
the  result  He  wishes  to  establish  (Mk  8'''-='  =  Mt 
16'^-'=,  Mkl2>*ff-,  Mt  li-"*  22"ff-  22-"-«=Mk  12»-''= 
Lk  20"""").  With  these  examples  we  may  also 
compare  the  merciless  way  in  which  Jesus  em- 
ployed this  method  to  involve  His  enemies  in  an 
awkward  dilemma  (Mt  2\-*-^),  driving  home  His 
argument  against  their  moral  dishonesty  by  the 
liarable  of  the  Two  Sons,  and  the  question  arising 
out  of  it  (Mt  21=8-31 ;  cf.  21'"'-»,  12=*  and  15').  Not 
all  the  questions,  however,  asked  by  Jesus  were  of 
this  character.  Some  are  of  the  nature  of  ordi- 
nary inquiry — a  demand  for  some  neetled  informa- 
tion. Such  are  the  questions  atldressed  to  the 
sisters  of  Bethany  (Jn  ll**),  to  the  Gerasene  de- 
moniac (Lk  8»'  =  Mk  5»),  to  the  father  of  the  epi- 
leptic boy  (Mk  9=1),  to  the  disciples  on  the  two 
occasions  (if,  indeed,  they  are  not  different  versions 
of  tlie  same  occurrence)  of  His  feetling  the  multi- 
tude (Mk  6=«,  8==Mt  15";  cf.,  however,  Jn  6«, 
which  is  the  author's  gloss). 

(2)  Not  very  far  removed  from  this  phenomenon 
in  Jesus'  life  is  tlie  habit  of  prayer  and  quiet  com- 
munion with  God  which  He  habitually  and  sedul- 
ously cultivated  (Mt  ll=5-3o  =  Lk  10=i'-,  Lk  3=',  Mk 
I'',  Mt  14==*,  Lk  51"  6i=9=«  22'=  22-'=f-=Mt  26'«f-  =  Mk 
;43:fr.^  with  A\hich  we  may  compare  Jn  n'-i*-  »>  14'<> 
12=^').  Of  the  three  Synbptists,  St.  Luke  seems  to 
be  the  one  who  most  appreciates  this  feature  of 
Jesus'  attitude  to  His  Father.  No  truer  comment 
has  ever  been  made  on  it  than  that  of  the  writer 
of  the  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews  (5')  in  referring  to 
His  supplications  in  Gethsemane— the  '  obedience ' 
of  Christ  was  slowlj'  fashioned  through  prayer, 
which  was  answered  for  His  reverent  devotion 
(Westcott,  Ep.  to  Ueb.  in  loc).  The  two  descrip- 
tive words  employed  by  this  writer  (Sc^ircis  re  koI 
iKerijpios)  illustrate  well  the  intense  nature  of  these 
supplications  (/it£T4  Kpavyrj^  iaxvpi^  Kai  daKpiuv), 
reminding  us  of  the  vivid  representation  of  Mk 
14^.  We  have  here  '  the  spectacle  of  true  man, 
weighted  with  a  crushing  burden,  tlie  dread  of  a 
catastrophe  awful  and  unfathomed '  (Gore,  Diss. 
p.  82f.). 

iii.  Jesus'  activity  as  Teachek.— (n)  When 
we  look  at  the  position  of  Teacher  occupied  by 
Jesus,  we  not  merely  see  Him  assuming  tacitly  to 
be  the  ultimate  authority  upon  the  ethical  value 
of  OT  laws,  and  giving  instruction  from  that 
standpoint  suitable  to  the  receptive  powers  of  His 
hearers,  we  are  also  confronted  with  His  confessed 
subordination  even  in  this  sphere.  His  is  a  dele- 
gated authority  conferred  on  Him  by  an  unction 
from  God.  He  was  sent  with  a  definite  message, 
the  contents  of  wliich  He  identified  with  that  given 
in  Deutero-Isaiah  (ch.  42,  cf.  61"-).  We  are  re- 
minded of  the  worils  of  the  Ajwstle  Peter  at 
("icsarea  (Ac  10**),  where  he  uses  tlie  same  word  to 
express  this  unction,  and  adds  as  the  secret  of  the 


ACCOMMODATION 


ACCOMMODATION 


19 


marvellous  power  exhibited  by  the  Anointed  that 
God  was  with  Him.  This  thought  is  most  fre- 
quently and  plainly  dwelt  on  in  the  Fourth  Gospel, 
and  this  is  the  more  surprising  as  it  appears  along- 
side of  claims  the  most  far-reaching  as  to  the 
significance  of  His  life  and  teaching.  In  His  con- 
versation with  Nicodenms,  Jesus  sets  forth  His 
place  in  the  scheme  of  world-salvation.  He  is  the 
object  of  men's  faith  and  belief.  It  is  through 
Him  that  life  is  brought  into  the  world.  At  the 
same  time  He  is  the  Sent  of  God  (.  .  .  d.w((jTei\ev  6 
Beis  Tbv  vlbv  els  rdv  kSit/xov,  k.t.X.,  Jn  3",  cf.  3=^  4^^  5=»- 

24.  30.  36-38   (j29.  38.  3!).  44.  S7      'ylG.  18.  28.  2U.  33    §16.  18.  26.  29.  42    94 

1036  1143  i2«.45.4.j  1424  jgsi  iQs  173  ^nd  20=1,  Lk  10'« 
9«,  Mt  10",  cf.  Mk  9"  and  Jn  IS^"). 

(J)  Not  only  has  He  received  His  commission  as 
a  Teacher  from  God,  but  there  is  a  limitation  de- 
fined for  Him  in  the  scope  of  the  delivery  of  His 
message  (Jn  1",  Mt  15=»  2P"-).  (1)  This  limit  He 
not  only  observed  Himself,  but  imposed  also  on 
His  disciples.  During  His  ministry  their  preach- 
ing was  confined  to  the  borders  of  Israel  by  His 
direct  orders  (Mt  10^'-) ;  and  this  limitation  was 
con.sidered  of  binding  force  at  the  time  (Ac  3="), 
though  it  was  abrogated  in  the  light  of  further 
development  (cf.  Mt  SS'*,  Mk  le'"-,  Lk  24-",  Ac  \*). 
It  is  important,  then,  to  recognize  that  Jesus  Him- 
self consciously  set  national  and  local  bounds  to 
His  missionary  activity,  and  was  willing  to  adapt 
His  methods  of  work  to  suit  the  conditions  which 
governed  the  time  and  place  of  His  incarnate  life. 
It  is  difficult  to  see  how  He  could  have  approached, 
with  any  hope  of  success,  a  people  so  hide-bound 
in  traditionalism  as  were  His  countrymen,  in  any 
other  way  than  He  did.  Discrimination  in  the 
choice,  rather  than  originality  in  the  creation  and 
presentment  of  fundamental  ideas,  characterizes 
His  teaching.  And  in  this  we  discover  His  Divine 
wisdom  and  greatness.  With  conscious  delibera- 
tion He  refused,  so  far  as  His  own  personal  work 
was  concerned,  to  break  with  the  best  and  truest 
tradition  as  it  was  embodied  in  the  teaching  and 
institutions  of  His  time.  (2)  There  is  a  line  of 
development  observable  in  the  Jewish  mind  from 
the  days  of  the  earliest  prophets  right  onwards  to 
the  time  of  Jesus,  and  He  did  not  break  off  at  a 
sharp  angle  from  its  continuation.  He  rather  set 
His  face  towards  the  direction  in  which  that  line 
travelled,  and  unswervingly  refused  to  turn  aside 
at  the  bidding  of  a  childish  literalism  or  of  a  debased 
legalism.  That  He  did  not  conline  His  recognition 
of  truth  to  what  was  overtly  taught  in  the  OT  is 
shown  by  the  whole-hearted  way  in  which  He 
accepted  the  doctrine  of  individual  resurrection, 
and  pressed  home  the  truth  of  this  latter-day 
Judaistic  development  upon  those  who  refused  to 
accept  it,  by  a  magnificent  argumentwm  ad  horn- 
ineni  (Lk  20"f-  =  Mk  122«-  =  Mt  22^"-)-  With  tliis 
doctrinal  disputation  between  Jesus  and  the  Sad- 
ducees  we  may  compare  that  on  the  .same  subject 
between  Gamaliel  and  the  '  scribes  of  the  Saildu- 
cees'  (see  Edersheim,  Life  imd  Times  of  Jesus  the 
Messiah,  vol.  i.  p.  316  n.).  Thi.s  Rabbi  bases  his 
argument  also  on  a  passage  out  of  the  Pentateuch 
(Dt  P,  cf.  IP),  but  misses  the  opportunity  so  well 
utilized  by  Jesus  of  emphasizing  tlie  spiritual  side 
of  that  truth.  It  is  significant  in  respect  of  this, 
that  Jesus  very  seldom  makes  a  formal  declara- 
tion or  revelation  of  the  truth  of  the  resurrection 
doctrine  (Jn  5=^-  =») ;  and,  except  on  this  occasion 
when  He  was  challenged  to  prove  it.  He  never 
attempts  to  give  any  reasons  for  its  acceptance. 
He  found  the  belief  jjrevalent  amongst  the  best 
spirits  of  His  time,  un.l  llr  ;,i,„plv  refers  to  it  as  a 
matter  of  course  by  lakiiig  f.,r  -ranted  that  His 
liearers  will  understiuid  the  ullusion,  and  accept 
the  consequences  He  ilivliicrs  (Lk  U",  cf.  Jn  W-*]. 
On  the  one  hand,  He  lays  stress  on  His' own  judicial 


functions  as  finding  their  final  scope  wlien  that 
wondrous  result  is  achieved  (cf.  Jn  5-'- ",  Mt  24'' 
1627  253iff.  1928  i349f._  Mk  13=3'.).  Then,  again.  He 
incidentally  refers  to  the  resurrection  as  a  future 
event  of  universal  significance,  to  be  brouglit  into 
objective  existence  by  the  ijower  of  God  (Mt22=») 
exercised  through  Himself,  wlio  will  employ  angels 
as  the  executors  of  His  final  decrees  (Mt  13^"''- •""•, 
Mk  13=7). 

(a)  In  these  passages  we  are  able  to  observe  a 
double  object  in  the  teaching  of  Jesus  about  two 
distinct  contemporary  beliefs.  As  we  have  seen, 
there  was  a  current  belief,  existent  amongst  the 
best  religious  thought,  in  the  resurrection  of  the 
dead.  This  was,  however,  intimately  connected 
with  Jewish  hopes  as  to  the  future  earthly  national 
Messianic  kingdom  (cf.  Is  26"- "»,  Ezk  37",  Dn  12=, 
^vhere  its  extent  is  limited  to  those  who  have  dis- 
tinguished themselves  on  one  side  or  other  of  the 
national  conflict,  mainly  with  Antiochus  Epiphanes 
[see  Driver,  Daniel,  in,  loc.  and  Introd.  xci  f.,  and 
Salmond,  Christian  Doctrine  of  Immortalitu*,  p. 
213;  cf.  Dnlp2'-]). 

The  imperfection  and  uncertainty  of  the  hold  which  this 
doctrine  had  on  the  Jewish  mind  is  evidenced  by  such  passages 
as  2  Mao  7»-  "•  =3. 36,  2  Es  7i™)-(it>0) ;  Jos.  ^  nt.  xvni.  i.  3 ;  Bar  2", 
Sir  IT'^f-  414.  In  the  Apocalypse  of  Baruch,  in  answer  to  the 
question  as  to  the  changes  which  are  to  take  place  (493),  the 
writer  affirms  his  belief  in  the  resurrection  of  the  body,  and 
the  subsequent  transformation  of  the  bodies  of  the  righteous  in 
order  to  the  enjoyment  of  unending  spiritual  happiness  (chs.  50 
and  61  (ed.  by  Prof.  Charles]).  The  authors  of  the  Book  of 
Enoch  \ary  as  to  the  extent  of  the  resurrection,  but  all  are 
agreed  as  to  the  restoration  of  the  righteous  Israelite  to  the 
fulness  of  a  glorious  life  in  the  new  Messianic  kingdom  which 
God  shall  establish  on  earth. 

Now,  as  we  have  just  said,  Jesus,  in  His  allusions 
to  the  doctrine  of  the  resurrection,  while  accom- 
modating His  language  to  the  received  Jewish 
opinions,  emphasizes  the  truth  and  discards  the 
excrescences  which  had  deformed  the  popular 
belief.  In  His  eschatological  references  and  dis- 
courses, connexions  with  current  thought  are  easily 
discovered,  even  when  He  is  engaged  in  contradict- 
ing tlie  prcsiuiijituous  expectations  of  those  whom 
He  is  aUilirssiii-.  ( 'umpare  His  use  of  apocalyptic 
figures  wlii'ii  ^|H■;^killJ;■  of  His  Parousia  (Mt  8", 
Lk  IS-"'-  ■-'■J"',  Mt  L'ti-'),  where  the  future  kingdom 
is  likened  to  a  banquet  where  the  guests  recline  at 
the  table  with  the  fathers  of  the  Jewish  nation  (cf. 
e.g.  Mt  22'-"  and  Lk  M^-'--*).  This  is  the  more 
remarkable  that  it  is  accompanied  by  a  stern  re- 
minder that  the  real  heirs  of  the  kingdom  shall 
find  themselves  outside  their  heritage.  The  refer- 
ence to  the  judgment  of  the  tribes  of  Israel  is  also 
to  be  noted  in  Mt  19=«,  Lk  22»»,  and  Rev  20*,  remind- 
ing us  of  the  idea  expressed  in  Dn  7==,  1  Co  6='', 
Wis  38,  Sir  415. 

The  imagery  in  which  Jesus  clothed  His  description  of  the 
events  which  were  to  precede  the  destruction  of  Jerusalem 
(Mt  24i3l  =  Mk  131-27=IJt  215-28),  and  His  subsequent  Return, 
finds  manv  parallels  in  Jewish  literature  (cf.  2  Es  S'W  618-28 
91-12  i3-ja-3l,  2  Mac  52f ,  Apoc.  Bar  702-8 ;  Mishna,  Sola,  ix. 
15  ;  and  Jos.  BJ  vi.  v.  3).  K  is  probable  that  in  Mt  2428  we 
have  the  quotation  of  a  current  proverb  which  n^ay  or  may 
not  have  had  its  origin  in  the  detestation  in  whicli  the  symbols 
of  Roman  power  .aiid  authoritv  were  held  (yee  Plumnier  on 
Lk  17^';  and  Farrar,  Lijc  vf  Christ,  vol.  ii.  p.  262).  In  any 
event  we  know  that  the  phrase  ol  i-i-roi  was  known  to  His  hearers 
as  symbolical  of  God's  judgments  wrought  by  means  of  heathen 
enemies  and  oppressors  (see  Charles'  ed.  of  Enoch  [92J ;  cf.  DC 
28-19,  Jol)  9'-»i,  Hab  l'<  etc.).  The  same  may  be  said  of  the 
reference  to  tlie  trumpet  (o-aXTij-?)  .as  the  instrument  by  which 
the  resurrection  of  the  dead  is  immediately  effected  (cf.  1  Th 
416,  1  Co  1552,  Mt  2431,  and  2  Es  &i).  In  this  connexion,  and 
intimately  related  to  the  subject  of  the  destruction  of  Jerusalem, 
we  may  note  the  simile  used  by  Jesus  in  His  lamentation  over 
that  city.  The  similitude  of  the  hen  and  her  brood  (Mt  233')  ■  ig 
not  found  in  the  OT,  but  is  frequent  in  Rabbinical  literature ' 
(Plummer  on  Lk  1334).  Compare,  -■.».,  2  Es  130,  in  which  context 
are  also  to  be  found  very  similar  references  to  the  righteous 
wrath  of  God  and  its  terrible  .■.iiist-quences.  He  will  require 
the  blood  of  all  His  servants  and  prophets  slain  by  the  hands  of 
those  to  whom  they  were  sent  (-J  Es  13'2).  Their  house  is  left 
unto  them  desolate  (v."-).  Tliese  words  remind  us  of  the 
language  of  Jesus  in  Mt  23351.38  (of.  Lk  11-»1"1-),  where  Wendt 


20 


ACCOMMODATION 


ACCOMMODATION 


U.  362).    See,  further,  Messiah,  PiRocsii. 

(;3)  The  other  conteinporaiy  belief  referred  to 
above  had  to  do  with  the  part  played  by  angels 
in  the  Divine  economy  of  revelation  and  grace. 
Amongst  the  Jews  of  the  time  of  Jesus  tliere  was 
a  tendency  to  emphasize  the  importance  of  the 
functions  ascribed  to  these  beings.  This  tendency 
arose  out  of  the  giowin"  habit  of  thought  which 
removed  God  farther  and  farther  from  that  active 
participation  in  the  world's  cunctins  wliicli  was 
characteristic  of  early  Israeliti^h  lulief  (Ex  S"''-, 
Gn  11'  18=»  [cf.  G.  B.  Stevens,  Tlu:  Thcjlofjii  of  the 
NT,  p.  11  f.]).  To  them  angels  were  the  necessary 
media  connecting  a  transcendental  God  with  the 
world  and  men.  (For  the  external  influences  which 
helped  tlie  growth  of  this  development  see  art.  [by 
Whitehouse]  '  Demon,  Devil,'  in  Hastings'  l)B, 
vol.  i.  p.  592).  Over  against  God  and  His  king- 
dom, thus  conceived,  stood  Satan  and  his  dominion, 
ruled  after  the  same  method  by  means  of  dependent 
demoniacal  beings.  It  is  unportant  to  note  that, 
although  tliese  dualistic  conceptions  held  a  large 
place  in  the  current  thought  of  His  day,  Jesus  has 
let  fall  no  hint  as  to  His  ideas  on  tlie  subject  of 
angelology.  By  Him  God  is  conceived  as  in  direct 
livmg  contact  with  men,  guiding  their  afiairs,  and 
interesting  Himself  in  their  welfare  (Mt  5^,  Lk  &•'', 
Mt  e*-"-"-^  7").  Perhaps  in  no  way  does  this 
come  out  so  clearly  as  in  the  stress  laid  by  Him  on 
the  Fatherhood  of  God  (cf.  e.g.  Lk  lo"").  What 
was  halting,  spasmodic,  and  inferential  in  the  OT 
becomes  in  the  teaching  of  Jesus  a  central,  illumi- 
nating truth  which  He  would  liave  His  hearers 
emphasize  during  the  most  sacred  moments  of 
their  lives— Ildrep  iinCii/  (Mt  6^  cf.  the  ndTcp  of 
Lk  IP).  At  the  same  time  the  Gosjjels  furnish  us 
with  many  references  by  Jesus  to  angels  and  their 
work,  all  of  which  are  intimately  related  to  con- 
temporary ideas.  It  is  unimportant  for  our  jiresent 
purix)se  whether  Ave  interpret  tliese  references 
literally,  or,  as  Beyschlag  and  otliers  do,  meta- 
phorically; viz.  as  poetical  and  tigurative  e.\- 
pressions. 

From  Himself  n'  I  ■  ion  noted  by  the 

SjTioptists  as  t  i       .  r    |il=.Mk  I'S,  Lk 

22«);andHein        I  —e  services  when 


light  be  somewhat 
pergonal 

^  i'-'j.    .A  <-oiiip:iii,son  of  one  pair 
■■-■  ■  ,-.  in  which 

It  Ihe  Son 
..while  in 

Kwi  uie  >  >ii  .'I  M-.iu  also  confess 
>iii  tiiij  ii  would  ui.pear  that'the 
iionvm  for  tliu  Sacred  Presence, 
such  (cf.  also  Lk  15"- 1»).     But 


(>)  On  coming  to  the  consideration  of  the  kindred 
question  arising  out  of  Jesus'  language  respecting 
Satan,  demons,  and  demoniacal  possession,  we  are 
confronted  with  a  more  intricate  and  difficult 
problem.  There  can  be  no  doubt,  the  present 
writer  thinks,  that  as  He  beliexed  in  the  personal 
existence  of  good,  so  He_also  Ijelieved  in  thatjof  I 
gvil  angels.  How  far,  on  the  (ittierTTand,  we  are  ' 
bouncTto  accept  the  \  ic"  s  which  a  literal  interpre- 
tation of  the  pas.sago  v.jn-ro  ictLTcnce  to  them  is 
found  would  convey,  i.s  anuther  question,  and  one 
which  demands  some  care  in  determining.  In 
the  first  place,  there  are  several  instances  where 
the  language  of  Jesus  respecting  these  beings  is 
olmouoly  figurnti^,   and    intondod- to  bo  intoX 


protod  oo  ouolt  In  relating  His  experiences 
during  the  Temptation  period,  it  Avould  certainly 
seem  as  if  He  intended  to  convey,  in  languagoc 
vividly  gyml>oli8a4,  an  idea  of  tlie  tremendous 
difficulties  wlikh  beset  Him  in  His  choice  of  two 
alternatives.  \Ihp  popular^  Jewish  Mefesianic  ex- 
pectations He  embodied  iwa  personified  fonn,  and 
Satan  appears/in  the  narrative  becgaise  of  the 
didactic  gj»p»se  whic^^e  had  iry^ew. 

A  similar  interpretation  seems  necessary  in  Jesus' explanation 
of  th.-  iiaml.k-  "f  the  S.nvcr  (.Mt  1319  i^;j„.,  i  ,„„fi;  ■  Mk  415 
*  0  ZtccjioXKX  though  Plummer 
(r  ■  is  here  emphasizing  His  belief 

1 !  re  described  as  working.    The 

tijJTurative,  and  it  seenic  some- 
.  -     111  that  way.    A  yery  rciiiark- 


>  .ilarly  in 

!  iMl  Which  all 
hinder  Him.  He 
tan '(IS^T-.i),  just 
'tation  in  the  first 

K'urc  is  discovered 
llsciples(Lk  1018). 
.  the  power  over 
Ivc,  as  being  also 
II till  the  following 


The  s;iiue  «ii'iaetic  piini<ise 
IS  t..  these  beiii^-s  ; 
therefore  led  to  the  conclusion  that  there  is,  in  I 
towards  this  question,  evidence  of  that  deliberate 
which  He  set  to  Himself  the  task  of  accommodation  to  the 
limited  knowledge  of  His  fellow-meit.  It  seems  to  the  present 
writer  to  be  ver.v  evident  that  Jesus  knowingly  refrainwl  from 
correcting  their  iile.t~  .m  this  Mibject  because  He  had  an 
infinitely  more    i  t .  >   perform.     To   say  with 

Bishop  Gore  tli  i  lainly  reaches  the  level  of 

positive  teach  1 1  is,  seems  to  import  more 

significance  in;  ri  it  can  bear  (cf.  Diss.  p. 

23f.).    Theworii.i    i  i  .  i.r  higher  plane  than  this— 

the  correcting  and  revealing;  oi  cletails  as  to  the  nature,  posi- 
tion, and  employment  of  subordinate  spiritual  agencies.    It  was 
for  Hia  purpose  that  a  general  belief  existed  in  the 


which   attended   His   discipt 


ir  one  to  the  Jews 
?sus  to  point  to  the 
as  foreshadowed  by 
!s'  first    efforts   (cf. 


Lukan  narr;r  i  '  ' 

fall,  inforin-  i 

by  asking' I 

Jobl6-i3n„.l. 

tion  (iyi,  i„ 

Apostle.     No  less   reiiLirkahle   ami    iii.^lruel 

oomuion  to  St,  Matthew  and  St.  Luke,  by  w 

danger  of  and  tendency  towards  reverting 


ACCOMMODATION 


ACCOMMODATION 


21 


He  speaks  of  the  un 


ig  in  Ills  quest,  he  dehberates  with  himself  as  to  his  fi 
)f  action,  and  finally  makes  up  his  mind  to  return  t( 
whence  he  was  driven.     With  himself  he  brings  ! 


S^ 


other  spirits,  and  thev  all  take  up  their  abodi 
chamber,  which  was  all  too  ready  to  receive  tl 
Mt  1243-45).  For  the  belief  that  more  than  one  deiiion  might 
possess  a  human  being,  compare  Mk  5",  Mt  8-8f-,  Lk  826r.,  and 
Lk  82  (!TTi  i^,^i,„,).  The  teaching  of  Jesus  is  not  only  based 
on  the  popular  belief  in  the  active  connexion  between  evil 
spirits  and  the  children  of  men,  but  there  is  a  reference  in  it 
to  the  generally  accepted  idea  that  wild  and  desert  resions  are 
the  special  habitat  of  these  beings  (see  art.  '  Demon,  Devil '  in 
Hastings'  BB,  vol.  i.  p.  6931>). 

Jesus,  on  more  than  one  occasion,  seems  to  sanction  the 
current  conception  ot  the  malignant  influence  of  demons  on 
the  human  body,  their  activity  in  this  respect  being  controlled 
and  guided  by  their  chief,  Satan  (o  apx'^»  i-i»  ia-i/^tiiit,  Mt  1224). 
St.  Luke's  diagnosis  of  the  woman's  case  who  was  aftiicted  for 
eighteen  years,  ia  simply  that  she  was  possessed  of  a  '  spirit 
of  infirmity'  (rvsiJ/^es  S^a-Sm'ix!,  Lk  13");  and  Jesus  apparently 
countenanced  the  belief  by  the  words  contained  in  His  reproof 
(<i(  tSvint  0  2«T»e««t,  v.lO).  A  similar  instance  of  His  countenanc- 
mg  popular  beliefs  occurs  in  the  healing  of  the  deaf  and  dumb 
epileptic  (Mk  9n-27).  The  boy's  father  believes  his  son  to  be  the 
victim  of  demoniac  malignity  {ixtna.  -r.£i>«t  «A«Xo«,  v.I7)  ;  and 
Jesus  addresses  the  spirit  by  an  authoritative  command  (W 

«A«Aflv  ICOA  xoi^ov  TCEij/ia,  lyu  hiraa-FM  ffot,  v.25). 

Perhaps  the  surest  e-yidenoe  ^ve  have  that  Jesus 
deliberately  suited  His  language  to  the  notions  of 
His  day  arises  out  of  the  way  in  which  He  wrought 
His  cures,  depending  as  He  'did  on  the  moral  and 
spiritual  forces  inherent  in  His  own  Person.  A 
word,  a  command,  a  touch  of  the  hand  suffices  His 
purpose  (cf.  Mt  »\  Mk  1=7,  Lk  13''').  There  is  no 
trace  "of  His  ever  having  employed  any  of  the 
current  methods  of  exorcism— the  use  of  certain 
magic  formulffi,  such  as  '  the  inefl'able  Name,'  etc. 
(see  Edersheim's  Life  and  Times  of  Jesus  the 
Messiah,  bk.  iii.  eh.  xiv.  and  Aj).  X'Vl.  Cf.  the 
astonishment  which  Jesus'  method  created  amoni^st 
His  countrymen  [Lk  i^  ■  cf.  Ac  19"]).  That  He 
knewof  such  methods  is  evident  from  the  ironical 
question  He  put  to  the  Pharisees  who  accused  Him 
of  collusion  with  Beelzebub  (Mt  122'=Lk  ll'S). 
For  evidence  that  Jesus  believed  in  power  over 
e-nl  spirits  exercised  by  others  not  directly  com- 
missioned by  Him,  cf.  Mt  7=^  Mk  9^'-  =  Lk  9^i>'-. 

On  the  other  hand,  signs  are  not  wanting  that 
Jesus  recognized  an  essential  difterence  between 
the  casting  out  of  demons  and  the  curing  of  bodily 
disease— 'I  cast  out  demons  and  perform  cures' 
(Lk  13^2,  cf.  Mt  108,  Mk  6i3_  l]-  91  gni.).  gt. 
Matthew,  moreover,  records  the  same  distinction 
IB  his  account  of  the  early  Galilfean  ministry 
(SaiMoj/ifoAt^fous  KoX  <Te\y]viat:o/j.dpov9,  4=^,  with  which 
cf.  Mk  p2-34).  -vve  may  also  note  in  passing  that 
instances  are  not  wanting  of  references  to  disease 
without  mention  of  these  agents  (cf.  e.q.  Mt  O^'-^" 
Mk  V^-'-r,  Lk  17"-"). 

Looking  then  at  this  last  aspect  of  the  question, 
and  noting  the  way  in  which  He  employed  the 
language  current  in  His  day  about  this  mysterious 
phenomenon,  we  perceive  Jesus'  knowledge  to  be 
m  advance  of  that  possessed  by  His  countrymen. 
We  see  the  workings  of  that  love  which,  while  it 
appeals  to  man  as  he  i.s,  yet  ever  strives  to  draw 
him  upwards  by  gradually  stripping  him  of  the 
clogging  weights  of  superstition  and  of  false  con- 
ceptions. See  artt.  Demon,  Lunatic,  Possession. 
(c)  In  harmony  with  this  characteristic  habit  of 
Jesus  is  His  general  method  of  imparting  definite 
instruction.  It  is  impossible  not  to  be  struck  with 
the  way  in  which  He,  not  content  with  telling 
His  hearers  directly  what  He  wshes  them  to 
know,  approaches  them  from  another  side  — the 
side  of  reason  and  its  resultant  freedom  and  in- 
dependence of  thought.  The  Sermon  on  the 
Mount  is  not  a  body  of  precepts  like  the  Mosaic 
code,  so  nmch  as  a  series  of  paradoxes  which  arrest 
ana  lix  the  attention,  calling  out  and  developing 
the    powers    of    rational    deduction.      The    same 


feature  runs  through  the  parabolic  form  which 
His  teaching  so  largely  took,  and  which  was  so 
admirably  suited  to  maintain  the  studied  reserve 
in  the  content  of  His  communications.  Notice 
the  way  m  which  He  keeps  back,  all  through  the 
earliest  period  of  His  ministry,  the  revelation  of 
His  claims  to  be  the  Messiah  (Mk  l"'3'-  S^  Lk44i 
cf.  Mt  12'"  8^  etc.);  and  even  to  the  Twelve  He 
does  not  impart  the  nature  of  those  claims  till 
they  slowly  worked  out  for  themselves  the  con- 
viction to  which  St.  Peter  gave  such  emphatic 
expression  at  Coesarea  Philippi  (Mk  82»  =  Mt  161"  = 

(1)  Popularly  intelligible  and  highly  impressive, 
the  parables  of  Jesus  have  been  the  wonder  and 
admiration  of  every  age.  The  OT  is  not  -ivithout 
examples  of  this  mode  of  teaching  (2  S  12'"'-  14«'- 
1  K  2039'-,  Is  5i-«),  and  the  Rabbinical  writings 
afford  numerous  examples  of  parables  (see  Eders- 
heim,  Life  and  Times  of  Jesus  the  Messiah,  vol.  i. 
p.  580  f.)  some  of  which  bear  a  striking  resem- 
blance to  those  of  Jesus  (cf.  Midrash  on  Ca  1'). 
The  object  of  parabolic  teaching  was  twofold,  and 
was  thus  purposely  employed  by  Him  (Mt  13"-"). 
By  it  He  meant  to  conceal  the  truth  '  from  the 
wise  and  clever'  (awb  cro0cii/  Kal  (rvfeTuv,  Mt  ll^s  [see 
Moifntt's -Histor.  NP,  p.  316  f.]).  By  it  He  at 
the  same  time  intended  to  unfold  the  same  truth 
'  to  babes '  (i/i/iri'ois).  According  to  the  Markan 
narrative,  there  was  an  adaptation  to  the  capaci- 
ties of  His  hearers  even  within  the  zone  of  His 
parabolic  teaching.  He  did  not,  that  is  to  say, 
employ  this  method  indiscriminately  or  harshly, 
but  in  a  tentative  and  gentle  fashion,  proportion- 
ate to  the  intelligences  of  those  who  heard  Him 
(Mk  4»s). 

Such  was  the  aim  and  intention  of  Jesus  ;  and  in 
connexion  with  this  it  will  not  be  unimportant  to 
note  how,  as  His  experience  widened,  and  the 
stress  of  opposition  increased,  and  the  bitterness 
of  the  enmity  to  which  He  was  exposed  intensified, 
the  parable  enters  more  and  more  largely  into  His 
public  teaching,  and  gradually  assumes  a  more 
admonitory,  controversial,  and  sometimes  a  warn- 
ing judicial  tone.  It  is  impossible  to  draw  up  any 
hard  and  fast  rule  exemplifying  this  statement, 
but  a  comparison  of  the  parables  grouped  in  Mt  13 
with  those  in  Lk  14'-"  IS"-"  U^^-'^  16'-'^  '""^i  igi'--" 
etc.  will  show  the  gradual  development  of  method 
in  the  employment  of  the  parable  by  Jesus  to 
drive  home  the  meaning  of  His  message  to  the 
heart  and  understanding  of  His  hearers.  See 
Parable. 

(2)  Without  entering  into  a  discussion  as  to  the 
difference  between  the  parable,  the  fable,  the 
allegory,  and  other  forms  of  instruction  by  figure, 
it  is  important  to  note  that  Jesus  never  disdains 
to  use  popular  figurative  expressions  in  order  to 
point  the  truth  He  is  aiming  to  disclose.  Just  as 
in  its  outward  form  and  method  He  conformed  to 
the  usages  of  His  time  (cf.  Mt  5\  Lk  4=»,  Jn  8=, 
Mt  13"-  etc.),  so  in  His  choice  of  language  He  did 
not  disdain  to  employ  what  He  found  ready  to  His 
hand,  though  it  was  manifestly  imperfect.  He  did 
not,  for  example,  correct  the  popular  notions  as  to 
the  local  positions  of  Heaven  and  Hades.  The  one 
was  regarded  as  being  situated  at  an  indefinite 
height  above  the  earth  (see  Ac  l'**-),  the  other  '  as 
a  dark  deep  underworld  in  which  the  deceased 
continued  to  exist'  (Salmond,  art.  'Hades'  in 
Hastings'  DB  ii.  275).  The  ethical  teaching  of 
Jesus  is  not  disturbed  by  these  crudities.  On 
more  than  one  occasion  He  uses  them  as  illustra- 
tions of  His  meaning.  Capernaum,  because  it 
rejected  the  unparalleled  opportunities  afforded 
by  His  presence  and  works.  He  addressed  with  the 
question,  '  Shalt  Uiou  be  exalted  unto  heaven  ? ' 
answering  it   Himself  at  the  same   time,   '  Thou 


ACCOMMODATION 


ACCOMMODATION 


Shalt  go  down  to  Hades.'  The  idea  was  that  a 
complete  moral  and  spiritual  overthrow  awaited 
her,  -whereas  she  might  have  enjoyed  the  full  and 
lofty  freedom  characteristic  of  the  atmosphere  of 
God's  presence  (see  Mt  ll=3  =  Lk  10''). 

The  expression  'gates  of  Hades '  (Mt  1618)  is  similarly  figura- 
tive, and  111  thia  place  has  reference  to  the  forces  of  death  and 
spiritual  decay.  Here  there  is  an  incidental  reference  to  the 
general  belief  that  H.ade3  is  an  enclosed  prison-like  (cf.  the  i« 
pyXax  ^  of  1  P319)  abode  whose  inhabitants  are  locked  and  detained 


even  in  Hades  a  broad  impassable  line  of  demarcation  ('  between 
usand  you  a  great  gulf  is  fixed,'  Lk  ICfK)  between  the  souls  of 
those  who  have  lived  piously  here  and  those  whose  lives  were 
selfish  (cf.  Lk  23*^  where  the  former  department  of  Hades  is 
called  '  Paradise ').  In  connexion  with  this  subject  it  is  in- 
structive to  note  such  ideas  as  are  found  in  Enoch  22.  51.  63io 
1025  etc.,  where,  mth  the  single  exception  of  the  locale  of  Sheol, 
the  general  description  is  very  simUar  to  that  we  have  been 


(3)  One  of  the  traditional  forms  of  teaching  was 
by  the  employment  of  aphoristic  sayings,  such  as 
we  have  before  us  in  the  gnomic  wisdom  of  the 
Son  of  Sirach,  or  of  the  Pirke  Aboth  in  the  Mishna 
(Schurer,  ffJP  II.  iii.  pp.  23-32).  Jesus  uses  this 
method  with  wonderful  eft'ect,  as  we  see  especi- 
ally in  the  list  of  utterances  grouped  in  Mt  5-7, 
which  were  collected,  we  may  feel  sure,  from  many 
dift'erent  periods  of  His  ministry.  All  four  Gospels 
afford  examples  of  these  proverbial  expressions. 
Cf.  e.g.  Mk  2"- "  ^-  *>  12"  H^s,  Mt2-2»  12*,  Lk  12« 
16'",  and  the  unrecorded  saying  in  Ac  20^,  Jn  .^^  4-^ 
12^,  while,  in  this  Gospel,  Jesus  refers  explicitly  to 
a  proverb  current  in  His  time  ( '  Herein  is  the  saying 
true,'  Jn  4^).  Very  striking  and  vivid  also  are  sucli 
figures  as  those  by  which  the  doctrine  or  teaching 
of  the  Pharisees  is  referred  to  by  the  word  'leaven' 
(Mk  8'*),  His  own  suffering  by  the  words  '  cup ' 
and  'baptism'  (Mk  \V^,  cf.  Lk  12«'-).  the  relative 
positions  of  Jew  and  CJentUe  in  the  kingdom  of 
grace  by  the  words  '  children '  and  '  dogs '  (Mk  7"). 
In  the  Fourth  Gospel  there  is  a  striking  frequency 
in  this  mode  of  expression.  It  is  in  this  writing 
that  Jesus  speaks  of  Himself  as  '  the  way '  (ri  656s, 
Jn  148), .  the  light  of  the  world '  (8'=), '  the  bread  of 
life'  (6^5),  'the  vine'  (ISM,  'the  door'  (10').  He 
speaks  of  His  work  as  His  'meat'  (4"),  of  His 
body  as  '  this  temple '  (2").  Cf.  also  such  passages 
as  those  which  deal  with  the  second  birth  (3^),  the 
living  water  (4'°),  the  heavenly  mansions  (14^),  and 
ao  on.  In  all  tliis  we  observe  a  method  which  is 
peculiarly  adapted  to  the  intelligence  of  those  He 
meant  to  instruct ;  and  this  is  still  more  emphati- 
cally the  case  when,  as  He  sometimes  does,  He 
expands  these  figures  and  similes  until  they 
assume  the  shape  of  allegories.  We  see  examples 
of  this  in  His  use  of  the  figure  of  '  the  shepherd ' 
(Wo«-),  'the  vine'  (15"f-),  'the  light' (12^'-),  etc. 
No  one  who  has  ever  heard  these  can  fail  to 
admire  'the  wonderful  art  and  power  of  popular 
eloquence'  which  He  possessed.  It  was  precisely 
the  power  to  gain  the  attention  and  arouse  and 
retain  the  interest  of  the  people  which  Jesus 
■wielded,  and  we  can  appreciate  the  reasons  for  the 
willingness  and  eagerness  with  which  He  was 
listened  to  by  the  proletariat  (Mk  12'').  See  art. 
Wisdom. 

(4)  The  references  in  the  discourses  of  Jesus  to 
natural  or  world-phenomena,  and  to  the  psycho- 
logical features  of  man's  being,  exhibit  the  same 
reserve,  the  same  restraint  in  coiTecting  popular 
notions,  the  same  frank  acceptance  of  current 
thoiight.  A  few  exaniples  will  be  sufficient  to 
show  how  completely  He  adapted  His  language 
to  the  limitations  of  contemporary  knowledge, 
(o)  God  makes  His  sun  to  rise  (Mt  5") ;  lightning 
comes  out  of  the  east  and  takes  its  swift  journey 
towards  the  west  (Mt  24"),  or  it  falls  down 
straight  from  heaven  (Lk  10") ;  the  germ  of  life  in 
the  wheat-grain  is  brought  into  active  play  only 


liy  the  (le:itli  of  the  seed  (Jn  12=^).  Even  the  signs 
wliich  in.ililcd  men  to  forecast  the  weather  were 
l.iid  liy  Ilim  under  contribution  to  emphasize  a 
contrast  (Lk  Vl^*"-).  The  wind  blows  hither  and 
tliitlier,  but  men  know  neither  its  beginning  nor 
its  ending  (Jn  3"),  any  more  than  they  can  point  to 
the  origin  or  the  destiny  of  the  mysterious  iuj) 
dvadey,  the  reality  of  whose  existence  He  never- 
theless insists  cannot  be  doubted.  The  gradual 
growth  of  the  kingdom  of  God  eludes  men's  ob- 
servation, just  as  that  of  the  planted  seed  does, 
which  receives  the  vital  principle  of  its  growth 
fiom  the  earth,  and  advances  steadily  though 
secretly  (Mk  4-''}. 


Its 


ithel 


to  the  present  writer  that  i 
is  pointing  to  the  existence  of  a  wider  field  of  knowledge  into 
which  man  has  not  as  yet  entered.  At  the  same  time  He  seems 
to  include  Himself  in  the  number  of  those  who  '  know  not '  the 
how  or  the  wherefore.  Ages  were  yet  to  pass  over  the  world 
before  men  discovered  the  laws  which  govern  the  relations  of 
natural  phenomena,  and  which  enable  them,  in  some  cases  at 
least,  to  predict  with  almost  infallible  certainty  their  regular 
sequence.  Jesus  consciously  recognized  that  it  was  no  part  of 
His  work  to  add  to  the  sum  total  of  human  knowledge  of  these 
subjects. 

(^)  The  same  trait  is  observable  in  His  refer- 
ences to  the  anthropological  ideas  of  His  time  ; 
but  for  the  illustration  of  this  we  must  refer  the 
reader  to  artt.  Flesh,  Heart,  Soul,  Spirit. 

iv.  The  attitude  of  Jesus  towards  the 
Me-ssianic  expectations  of  His  time.  —  A  dis- 
cussion of  the  question  of  Jesus'  attitude  towards 
Messianic  hopes  and  longings  is  of  the  utmost 
importance,  on  account  of  its  bearing  upon  the 
subject  with  which  we  are  dealing.  The  attention 
of  the  student  is  at  once  arrested  by  His  obvions 
anxiety  during  the  early  periods  of  His  ministry 
to  conceal  from  the  general  public  His  claims  to 
the  Messiahship.  This  He  did  expressly  by  for- 
bidding the  open  proclamation  of  the  truth  not 
merely  by  the  demoniacally  possessed  (Mk  1-"  3'-, 
Mt  12"',  Lk  4*'),  but  also  by  those  amongst  His 
circle  of  disciples  who  grasped  the  purport  of 
His  teaching  and  the  secret  of  His  Personality 
(Mt  16=»  =  Mk  8»  =  Lk9=' ;  Mt  17'  =  Mk  9'  =  Lk  9?% 
For  the  same  reason  He  courted  secrecy  in  the 
IJerformance  of  miraculous  cures,  and  enjoined 
silence  on  those  who  were  healed  (Mk  !*"■  5^'  7^° 
8=3. 26^  ]y[t  930  84)_  Indeed,  there  is  no  part  of  the 
message  which  Jesus  came  to  deliver  where  the 
words  of  Mk  4'^('He  spake  the  word  unto  them 
as  they  were  able  to  hear  it')  are  more  appropriate. 
Tlie  declaration  of  His  Messiahsliip  was  gradual  ; 
and  even  those  who  were  nearest  His  Person,  and  in 
closest  touch  with  His  teaching,  were  left  by  Him 
to  work  out  the  truth  slowly  and  by  degrees. 

(re)  Perhaps  the  self-chosen  title  'Son  of  Man,' 
by  which  He  is  styled  early  in  His  first  Galil.-ean 
ministry,  might  at  first  sight  contradict  this  state- 
ment (cf.  Mk2'»  =  Mt9«=Lk52*;  Mk  228  =  Mt  128 
=  Lk  6^ ;  Mt  12^2= Lk  121").  On  further  considera- 
tion, however,  it  will  be  seen  that  Jesus,  by  this 
designation  of  Himself,  had  a  twofold  object  in 
view— the  concealment  of  His  Messiahship  from 
the  many  who  were  not  ready  to  accept  His  inter- 
pretation of  its  meaning  and  purpose  ;  and  at  the 
same  time,  the  unfolding  to  the  few  who  could 
bear  the  revelation,  of  the  character  of  His  Person 
and  His  work  as  shadowed  by  the  title  'Son  of 
Man.'    See  art.  SON  OF  MAN. 

(6)  The  attitude  of  Jesus  to  the  Jewish  Canon  of 
the  OT  must  not  be  left  out  of  account  when  con- 
sidering the  methods  of  His  public  teaching. 
Frankly,  the  belief  is  at  once  confessed  that  here 
also  He  '  used  the  common  language  of  His  con- 
temporaries in  regard  to  the  OT'  (Sanday,  Bampton 
Led.  p.  414),  and  in  accordance  with  this  we  can 
explain  the  words  which  St.  Luke  puts  into  the 
mouth  of  the  risen  Jesus,  where  the  tripartite  divi- 


ACCOMMODATION 


ACCOMMODATION 


23 


sion  of  the  Hebrew  Bible  is  recognizeil— the  Law 
of  Moses,  the  Prophets,  and  the  Psalms  (24^^). 
With  this  we  may  compare  the  division  given  in 
the  Prologue  of  the  grandson  of  Jesus  ben  Sirach. 
Other  divisions  were  also  current,  as  '  Moses  and 
the  Prophets'  (Lk  16-^' *'  ii^),  'the  Law  and  the 
Prophets'  (Lk  16",  Mt  7'^),  where  the  idea  is  the 
same,  namely,  the  entire  OT  as  then  existing.     In 


perfect  harmony  with  this  is  the  acceptance  by 
Jesus  of  the  Mosaic  authorship  of  the  Pentateuch 
(Lk  16=«-3'  24"-",  Mt  198=Mk  10»-=,  Mk  12-'«  =  Lk 


Jn  5^-"  7i9--2f-)j  and  the  Davidic  authorship, 
if  not  of  the  whole  Jewisli  Psalter,  at  least  of 
many  of  the  Psalms  contained  therein  (Mk  12^'-  = 
Mt22«f-  =  Lk20-'"-). 

(1)  Several  other  indications  there  are  which 
show  that  He  accepted  not  only  the  general 
jjopular  belief  in  the  authenticity  of  the  OT  books 
as  a  wliole,  but  also  the  literal  genuineness  of  the 
stories  with  which  they  abound.  The  details  of 
the  narratives  of  the  Flood  and  Noah  (Mt  24"'''-  = 
Lk  17-*''),  the  story  of  Jonah  and  his  adventures 
by  sea  as  well  as  in  Nineveh  (Mt  12™''  16*,  Lk 
11^'-),  are  utilized  by  Jesus  on  the  assumption  of 
their  genuine  historicity.  The  glory  of  Solomon's 
reign,  that  heyday  of  Israelitish  prosperity,  is 
incidentally  mentioned  by  Him  without  any  re- 
serve (Mt  62i>  =  Lk  12=^).  The  question  is  not,  as 
Dr.  Sanday  puts  it  {The  Oracles  of  God^,  p.  Ill), 
whether  Jesus  'accommodated  His  language  to 
current  notions,  knoioing  them  to  be  false,'  but 
rather,  was  His  'accommodation'  or  'condescen- 
sion '  so  complete  that  He  never  entertained  any 
other  idea  as  to  the  character  of  these  narratives 
than  the  one  currently  held?  It  certainly  seems 
that  it  never  entered  into  His  mind  to  question 
their  historical  truth  ;  and  if  we  seek  for  the 
estimation  in  which  He  held  '  the  Law  and  the 
Prophets,'  we  find  it  expressed  in  words  which,  if 
genuine,*  are  as  emphatic  as  any  that  are  to  be 
had.  Not  '  one  jot  or  one  tittle'  (iCira  Iv  ij  nia.  Kepala) 
was  to  be  done  away  with  until  all  was  fultilled  (Mt 
5'*).  Into  this  Jewish  idea  of  the  abiding  nature 
of  the  Law,  Jesus  characteristically  imported  a 
depth  of  meaning  which,  while  it  did  not  destroy, 
transmuted  its  whole  tenor,  giving  it  the  eternal 
significance  of  which  He  speaks  (fws  &v  irapiXd-g  6 
oipavbi  Kal  rj  yrj),  and  which  it  could  never  otherwise 
have  had.  This  habitual  method,  by  which  Jesus 
based  His  teaching  on  the  foundations  of  existing 
knowledge,  receives  some  illustration  from  the  way 
in  which  He  treats  the  story  of  Moses  and  the 
Bush  (Mk  12=«=Lk  2ff",  cf.  Mt.  22si)-  He  says 
nothing  whatever  of  the  nature  of  this  vision 
beyond  what  the  letter  of  the  narrative  expresses. 
He  does  not  tell  us  whether  the  sight  was  visible 
to  the  outward  eye  or  to  the  inward  spiritual 
understanding  alone.  Cf.  also  His  references  to 
the  brazen  serpent  (.In  3'*  123=). 

(2)  In  the  same  way,  it  seems  to  the  present 
writer,  we  are  to  interpret  the  reference  to  the 
authorship  of  Ps  110  (Mt  22*i-'=  =  Mk  12»5-3?  =  Lk 
20"-").  There  were  three  distinct  ideas  current 
about  this  Psalm  which  Jesus  adopts  as  the 
groundwork  of  His  argument :  (i.)  it  was  Davidic, 
(ii.)  it  was  written  by  David  under  the  influence 
of  inspiration  (Aa/3i5  ^v  wvevixari.),  (iii.)  it  was  ex- 
plicitly Messianic.  If  Jesus  placed  the  imprimatur 
of  His  Divine  authority  upon  any  one  of  these 
notions,  we  are  bound  to  believe  that  He  did  so  on 
all,  and  by  consequence  on  the  Messianic  ideas 
which  were  popularly  held,  and  which  doubtless 
were  supposed  to  be  favoured  by  Ps  110.  We 
know,  however,  that  He  habitually  discouraged 
the  popular  belief  in  a  Messiah  who  was  to  be  an 
earthly  Sovereign  of  all-conquering  power,  which 
was  held  to  be  countenanced  by  the  words  of  this 

"  See  Hastings'  OB,  Extra  Vol.  p.  24  f. 


Psalm  (cf.  Jn  6'^  IS^*'-  and  Lk  17="').  There  is  no 
hint  given  by  any  of  the  three  Synoptists  that 
Jesus  corrected  these  Messianic  expectations  during 
the  course  of  the  argument.  His  purpose  was 
other  than  this,  'to  argue  from  the  contents'  of 
the  Psalm,  and  not  at  all  to  correct  ideas  as  to 
authorship  and  interpretation  (cf.  Driver,  LOT'^ 
p.  363  n.  ;  and  A.  F.  Kirkpatrick,  '  Psalms,'  in  the 
Cambridge  Bible,  Introd.  to  Ps  110). 

The  whole  edifice  so  laboriously  constructed  by  the  opponents 
of  a  rational  criticism,  on  the  basis  of  Jesus'  references  to  this 
Psalm  as  «ell  as  to  other  portions  of  OT  Scriptures,  falls  to  the 
j^round  when  considered  beneath  'the  dry  light  of  reason.* 
The  following  words  of  Bishop  Gore  are  so  moderate  and  reason- 
able in  connexion  with  this  reference  of  Jesus  to  the  Davidic 
authorship  of  Ps  110,  that  we  may  be  pardoned  for  quoting 
them  in  full.  '  On  the  face  of  it,  the  argument  suggests  that 
the  Messiah  could  not  be  David's  Son,—"  if  David  calleth  him 
Lord,  how  is  he  his  Son?"— but,  in  fact,  \b<  i>urp(tse  is  not  to 
prove  or  disprove  anything,  to  affirm  or  deny  anything,  but 
simply  to  press  upon  the  Pharisees  an  arguiiient  "which  their 
habitual  assumptions  ought  to  have  suggested  to  them  ;  to 
confront  them  with  just  that  question,  which  they,  with 
their  principles,  ought  to  have  been  asking  themselves '  (Damp- 
ton  Lect.  p.  198).  In  a  word,  nothing  can  be  truer  than  that 
both  'the  Saviour  and  the  Apostles  have  quoted  a  body  of 
sacred  Scriptures,  and  it  does  not  appear  that  in  their  teaching 
they  had  any  wish  to  introduce  a  novel  theory  as  to  the  mean- 
ing and  authority  of  that  collection.  Neither  the  Apostolic  writ- 
ings nor  the  tradition  of  the  Christian  Church  bear  any  trace 
of  an  explicit  decision  given  by  JcBus  Christ  or  the  Apostles 
with  respect  to  the  Canon  of  the  Old  Testament,  and  still 
less  of  a  decision  which  would  have  the  effect  of  formally 
correcting  opinions  which  obtained  in  the  Jewish  world  '  (Loisy, 
Caiwn  de  t'Ancie7i  Testament,  p.  97). 

V.  Summary  and  Conclusion.— In  summing 
up  and  reviewing  the  conditions  under  which  the 
teaching  of  Jesus  was  ushered  into  the  world,  and 
the  relation  in  which  that  teaching  stood  to  the 
human  race,  we  cannot  do  better  than  quote  a 
passage  from  a  little  work  of  the  last-named 
writer  (L'Evangile  et  I'Sglise),  though  he  is  there 
dealing  with  a  very  ditferent  problem  :— 

'  Nothing  could  make  Jesus  other  than  a  Jew  He  was  only 
man  under  condition  of  belon^m,  to  one  1 
In  that  in  which  He  was  born  the  branc 
said  to  have  carried  in  it  the  religious  futur 
future  was  known  in  quite  a  pietist  iiiai  r  tr 
reign  of  God,  by  the  symbol  of  the  ' 


the  Founder  of  _ 

Israel.    The  Gospel,  appearing  in  Ju  i  i         M     t      q  pear 

elsewhere,  was  bound  to  le  cunhtiti  1  I  \  Ju  I  i  m  Its 
Jewish  exterior  is  the  human  bod\  u  iu  se  L>i  nt  1  is  the 
Spirit  of  Jesus.  But  take  awav  tht  1  od\  in  1  th  soul  will 
vanish  in  the  air  like  the  ht,htest  brcxth  U  itho  it  the  idea  of 
the  Messiah,  the  Gospel  would  have  been  but  a  n  et  i]  h\sical 
possibility,  an  invisible,  intangible  essence  even  unintellif,ible, 
for  want  of  a  definition  appropriate  to  the  means  of  know  ledge, 
not  a  living  and  conquering  reaht>  The  Gospel  will  always 
need  a  body  to  be  human  Having  become  the  hope  of  Chris 
tian  people,  it  has  corrected  in  the  interpretation  cei  tain  parts 


ilways  stri\mg  after  t   if     l         i      i    [     i    ^nd 
his  'is  the  nnsteri  tb  it  J  i         II     is  far 

as  it  could  be  revealed,  and  under  the  cond  tions  whith  nndt 
revelation  possible.  It  may  be  said  that  Christ  lived  it  ab  ninth 
as  He  made  it  manifest. 

The  present  writer  has  no  intention  of  entering 
into  the  very  difficult  and  much-debated  (|ucstiuii 
of  the  connexion  between  Jesus'  ideas  of  '  the 
kingdom  of  God'  (or  'of  heaven')  during  the 
early  and  the  later  periods  of  His  active  ministry, 
or  how  far  the  latter  was  a  development  of  the 
former  ;  nor  again  to  inquire  as  to  the  period  when 
it  dawned  upon  His  consciousness  that  His  death 
was  the  condition  upon  which  its  inauguration 
and  subsequent  life  rested.  Broadly  speaking,  a 
line  of  demarcation  might  be  drawn  through  the 
life  as  it  is  presented  to  us,  cutting  it  into  two 
fairly  well  marked  divisions  at  the  time  of  the 
Petrine  confession  and  the  Transfiguration.  After 
these  events  Jesus  began  to  concentrate  His 
teaching  more  especially  upon  the  circle  of  dis- 
ciples gathered  closely  round  Him.     It  was  then 


ACCOMMODATION 


ACTIVITY 


tliat  He,  in  solemn  and  almost  sad  forelKidinir. 
warned  His  followers  of  the  events  which  wnr 
soon  to  try  His  own  fidelity  to  tlie  cause  whidi  llr 
so  constantly  and  fearlessly  championed,  and 
which  were  to  put  their  faith  to  a  most  cruel 
test.  We  are  indebted  to  the  writer  of  the  Fourth 
Gospel  for  the  series  of  discourses  in  which  He 
endeavoured  to  strengthen  and  encourage  His 
disciples  against  the  coming  time  of  trial.  From 
these  we  gather  that  Jesus  looked  forward  to  the 
establishment,  on  the  basis  of  His  own  life,  of  a 
kingdom  amongst  men  which  was  to  carry  on  His 
teaching,  even  as  it  received  the  truth  at  the 
hands  of  His  Spirit.  The  time  had  not  as  yet 
aiTived  when  they  could  assimilate  the  full  self- 
revelation  of  God  (Jn  16'-),  but  as  their  experience 
widened  and  their  understandings  became  enlarged, 
they  would  be  made  the  recipients  of  'all  the 
truth'  (V.13,  of.  also  IS^S).  That  He  looked 
beyond  the  lives  of  those  whom  He  thus  addressed 
will  not,  we  think,  be  disputed  (cf.  els  rbv  alSiva, 
14"^).  Certainly  His  words  were  so  interpreted  by 
His  followers  (see  Mt  28™ ;  cf.  IS^",  Jn  U^  17«, 
Ac  2^).  We  are  thus  emboldened  to  state  our 
belief  that  this  plan  of  Divine  self-accommodation 
enters  into  the  very  centre  of  the  life  of  Jesus 
Himself,  and  that  it  is  the  plan  by  which  the 
world  has  receivod  it'<  cilin^fition  from  the  be- 
ginning even  till  tin      I   i  'i  i  -■  y^. 

•Each  of  them  [Baiiti-        i    •    ■ 

Jesus)  constitutes  a  m  : 

supreme,  in  the  dinrl,.]. ;    .i 


.nd  on  the  cross  He  was  preparii 
\  can  see  in  these  three  events 
•  which  that  develoiiment  was  sc 


!  Transfiguration  of 
L'nt  important,  nay 
unity  of  our  Lord, 
on  accomplished  in 


science  ran  counter  to  preconceived  ideas.  The 
(  Imrch,  at  times,  seemed  to  have  been  committed 
:iliii<ist  irrevocably  to  a  false  and  transient  philo- 
Miphy,  to  a  weak  and  untenable  exegetical  process, 
tt  hen  she  was  forced  by  the  onward  march  of  God's 
self-revelation,  grasped  and  promulgated  in  the 
teeth  of  opjiosition  and  obloquy  by  the  brightest 
intellects  amongst  her  children,  to  review  her 
jwsition,  to  reject  old  prejudices,  and  to  bring  lier 
interpretation  of  the  life  and  teaching  of  Jesus 
into  line  with  the  newer  discoveries  which  are  so 
constantly  revealing  to  men's  minds  wider  and 
mofounder  ideas  of  the  condescending  love  of  God. 
The  chief  object  for  which  the  Church  exists  is, 
while  'reproving,  rebuking,  exhorting'  (cf.  2  Ti 
4"),  to  interpret  the  Incarnation  as  it  bears  on 
man's  life,  and  on  the  destiny  of  the  world  and  the 
race,  in  the  light  of  an  ever-increasing  knowledge. 
Her  business  is  not  so  much  to  keep  back  the  pro- 
founder  mysteries  of  a  gradually  accumulating 
revelation  from  the  minds  of  '  the  weak '  (1  Co  8"), 
as  to  build  up  and  strengthen  the  entire  man, 
intellectual  and  spiritual,  so  that  all  may  learn 
that  there  is  no  department  of  human  life  whicli 
has  not  its  own  intimate  relationship  to  the  Incar- 
nate Son  of  God. 

LiTKRATtTRE.— The  following  works,  most  of  which  are  either 
quoted  or  referred  to  in  the  course  of  this  article,  are  sj^ecially 
recommended  as  throwing  lijtht  on  a  difficult  problem  :— 
Schiirer,  IIJP^  which  is  a  veritable  mine  from  which  we  may 
e-xcavate  an  immense  amount  of  information  about  contem- 
porary beliefs,  customs,  modes  nf  thoufjlit  and  of  teaching; 
J.  B.  Movl.y,  liulin;  Id,;,,  in  Earb,  .I'/..-';  l-Mrrslieim,  Vhe 
Li/e  (n„l   ri„„  ,  n/Jr  „.<  tln-M.s,,„i,  ■   ll   Wri-.,  /..  A,  a  ./oil, 

Hofizni-.lw"  y,':''i'.-'i.  Ti:'!nr-  (>;  I  ii'ifucnljin/..;-,',!,. /,■','«  j':H-!tr 


The  question  naturally  arises  at  this  stage.  How 
far  is  this  Divine  method  of  educating  humanity 
to  enter  into  the  conscious  active  life  of  the  teach- 
ing 'liody  of  Christ'  (Eph.  4'=)?  How  is  the 
Chiirch  to  exercise  her  functions  as  the  guide  and 
instructress  of  the  race?  Is  she  to  draw  lines  of 
distinction  between  those  who  'are  able  to  l.-u' 
the  fulness  of  the  faith  delivered  to  her  li.  ■'; 

and  tliose  whose  receptive  faculties  she  ( 

are  not  (itted  to  receive  such  revelation  ?  II  -«  ii 
is  she  to  practise  the  doctrine  of  econujny  ui 
reserve  in  diselosin"  to  men  'the  faith  whicli  was 
once  fur  all  delivered  to  the  saints '  ?  ( Jude  '*).  That 
grave  dangers  await  a  policy  which  seems  to  put 
.such  judicial  authority  into  the  hands  of  men,  is 
not  to  be  denied  ;  nor  can  we  shut  our  eyes  to  the 
tendency  which  such  a  course  fosters,  to  hold  up 
different  standards  of  belief  and  practice  before 
diMiiriit  iiiiinls.  At  the  same  time,  we  cannot  shut 
our  •  \  c^  to  ihi-  s;id  phenomenon  of  a  rent  and  dis- 
tiM'i.'l  I  liii-i' iiiloni,  which  necessarily  implies 
iii;i)iili(v  somewhere  to  grasp  the  fundamental 
verity  of  Christian  life  (cf.  Jn  l.'F).  Imiierfcct 
belief  and  faith  are  the  causes  to  wliidi  umsl  be 
attributed  the  vital  as  well  as  the  niiiK.nlincrcnccs 
.separating  those  who  ought  to  belong  to  the  same 
household.  The  bearing  with  each  other,  the 
syiiijiatlietic  endeavour  on  each  side  to  understand 
liie  otiier's  point  of  view,  seem  to  be  the  only 
worthy  methods  of  continuing  the  work  of  love 
begun  by  Jesus.  It  seems,  indeed,  to  be  the 
method  which,  springing  from  the  love  for  men 
which  He  inculcated.  He  bequeathed  to  His  teacli- 
ing  Body.  We  are,  however,  bound  to  admit  that 
those  occupying  the  position  of  Doctores  ccclesice 
have  not  always  marched  in  the  van  of  human 
progress,  and  that  often  tliey  have  adopted  the 
role    of    oUscurantists  where    the    discoveries    of 


de  Ji'siis-Cluisf  ;  T.  II.  Wn-li 
Lehn-Jis,,,  i;ii-.  tr.  (T.  \- T.  r 
the  XT;  V.nvv,  Thi  lliualUali 


.Inly  liiui);  Faiiu 
Vol.  of  DB;  R. 
Davidson,  'Angel 
in  vol.  i.,  and  *Sai 
Tlie  rc'idi-r  is  al 


•  §§  ■■.-«,  by 
barles.  The 
1  are  useful 


ACCUSATIONS.— See  Trial  (of  Je.sus). 

ACHIM  ('Axfi».— An  ancestor  of  Joseph,  accord- 
ing to  the  genealogy  of  our  Lord  in  St.  Matthew's 
(ujsi.el  (l"j.  The  name  may  bo  a  shortened  form 
of  Jvhoi.uhim,  or  it  may  be  for  Ahktni  (cf.  1  Ch 
n^)  or  Jachin  (i:l.  Gn  40% 

ACTIVITY 1.  The  period  of  our  Lord's  activity 

is,  in  other  words,  that  of  His  ministry,  in  the  ful- 
filment of  which  His  activity  was  exhibited.  Its 
duration  is  a  matter  of  dispute,  relevant  only  so 
far  as  it  compresses  into  one  year  the  recorded 
details,  or  extends  them  to  the  traditional  three. 
In  any  case  the  records  are  in  no  sense  exhaustive. 
Manifold  ministries  are  expressed  in  few  words 
(Mt  4-3"^  15«',  Lk  4"  8',  Jn  4'  etc.);  a  complete 
account  is  beyond  an  E\angeli3t's scope (.Tn  20*- *'), 


ACTIVITY 


ACTS  OF  THE  APOSTLES 


and  would  Ijc  voluminous  (21-=).  This  is  said  of 
things  done  'in  the  presence  of  the  disciples'  (Jn 
202<'),  and  we  cannot  suppose  they  saw  or  knew  all 
that  Jesus  did.     See  art.  Ministry. 

In  fact,  we  possess  no  himiv  tliari  s|ici'imoiis  of 
Christ's  lalx)urs ;  but  llirr,  no  .Imilil,  .ur  so 
selected  as  to  give  us  a  -i-ihi:il  iilrn  .if  I  In- wlmli-. 
In  this  connexion  the  II1.-.1  S:ilili,-il  h  ul  ( '.■i|i.'ni:niin 
(of  which  a  detailr.l  nc.ouni  is  ^iven  in  Mk  !-'•»', 
Lk  4''-^^)  has  well  licrn  |i.iiiitiil  to  as  a  specimen 
day.  Some  detuils  ..I  iIk'  Sou  of  Man's  toilsome 
life  — wearying  jouiiirys  (.In  4"),  rising  'a  great 
while  before  day'  (Mk'l '')— may  be  in  themselves 
not  much  more  than  features  of  Oriental  life : 
others  — 'nowhere  to  lay  his  head'  (Mt  8=")— 
cannot  be  so  explained.  Day  to  Him  meant  work. 
Tlie  Father's  work  was  both  a  daily  necessity  (Jn 
9^)  and  His  very  '  meat '  (4**).  Its  substance  was 
twofold  :  (1)  the  general  work  of  evangelizing  and 
healing ;  (2)  the'  special  work  of  training  others, 
the  Twelve  (Mk  3"  6'  etc.)  and  the  Scv<'nty  (Lk 
10'),  and  superintending  their  cH'oits.  Siiail.uly 
we  may  regard  as  twofold  the  coiidilioiis  under 
which  it  was  carried  on  :  (1)  the  nomad  conditions, 
ever  varying,  of  the  day  (Sabbath  or  week-day), 
tlie  place  (synagogue,  Temple  or  open-au')  and 
the  hearers  (uuiltitudes  or  individuals);  (2)  the 
abnwmal  conditions,  cicatcd  by  the  presence  of 
opponents  (Mt  12'""  =^-J-  etc.),  or  of  crowds  who 
clung  to  Him  sometimes  for  days  together  (Mt  15-'-, 
Mk  8-).  Under  such  pressure  there  was  often  no 
leisure  to  eat  (Mk  3-»  &").  Night  did  not  mean 
sleep,  but  was  given  largely  to  prayer  (Mt  14'-^, 
Lk  6'=  ^  2233-"),  till  His  exhausted  nature,  finding 
opportunity  for  repose,  could  sleep  undisturbed 
even  by  a  storm  (Mk  i^,  Lk  S"^).  More  than  once 
His  disciples  (accustomed  by  their  trade  to  night- 
watches,  Lk  5')  proved  unequal  to  the  strain  of 
wakefulness  (Lk  93^,  Mk  14^"-*).  His  friends, 
fearing  a  mental  breakdown,  ciiiie  to  n-straiu 
Him  by  force  (Mk  3-').  It  would  ]«■  lia/,inl..us  to 
e.stimate  degrees  of  spiritual  activity  liy  llie  pre- 
carious test  of  numerical  results  (Jn  12''  '"),  but  it 
is  noticeable  that  at  one  time  He  nuide  more  dis- 
ciples than  John  the  Baptist  (Jn  4'). 

Cei'tain  limitations  of  Christ's  activity  are  clear 
and  significant.  (1)  In  scope  it  waseonlincd  to  'the 
house  of  Israel,'  more  es|HMi,illv  its  'lost  sheep' 
(Jn  pi,  Mt  IS^).  A  few  o\il.M,i..|s  (Centiles  and 
pro.selytes)  came  within  its  raiiue  ;  Imt  these  were 
exceptional  (Mt  8"^-"  15--,  Lk  17'",  Jn  4"  122"- 2'). 
(2)  In  development  it  was  regulated  By  the  unfold- 
ing of  a  Divine  plan,  frequently  referred  to  by  such 
expressions  as  'my  hour'  (Jn  2*  7™  8™  13'  etc.), 
'  my  time '  (Mt  26"*,  Jn  7").  (3)  In  operation  it  was 
morally  conditioned  by  the  existence  (or  otherwise) 
of  a  certain  measure  of  receptiveness  (Mk  6^). 

In  reference  to  the  source  of  His  activity,  it  must 
be  noted:  (1)  that  it  was  always  and  essentially 
associated  with  times  of  retirement  and  prayer 
(Mk  1==  3'3  6*"  92  etc.);  (2)  that  its  manifestation 
is  directly  ascribed  to  the  power  of  the  Spirit  (Mt 
12^,  Lk  4'''  etc.);  and  (3)  that,  in  its  miraculous 
exercise,  tliere  is  indicated  (at  least  once)  a  percep- 
tion that  '  power  had  gone  out '  (Mk  S^",  Lk  8''*). 

2.  In  the  Christian  course,  energy  is  constantly 
commanded  (Mt  11'-,  Mk  13"^  Lk  13=^).  Yet  it  is 
worthy  of  remark  that  in  Christ's  estimate  of 
human  character  the  active  qualities  .seem  some- 
times to  be  depreciated  in  comparison  with 
the  passive,  contemplative,  and  devotional.  The 
latter  attain  to  'the  good  part'  (Lk  lO'*"),  and 
find  their  place  in  the  Beatitudes  (Mt  S^'-).  See, 
further.  Character  (Christian). 

3.  Finally,  the  believer's  view  of  Christ  is  not, 
in  the  Gospels,  primarily  directed  to  His  acti\e 
labours.  Such  things  are  the  record  of  an  Apostle 
(2  Cor  6'-s  etc.)  rather  than  a  Saviour:    accord 


ingly,  if  with  the  account  of  our  Lord's  active 
labours  we  measure  that  of  His  Passion,  both  as 
to  general  proportion  and  minutia;  of  detail,  there 
can  be  no  doubt  that  in  the  Gospel  picture  the 
Passion,  and  not  the  activity,  occupies  the  fore- 
ground. F.  S.  Ranken. 

ACTS  OP  THE  APOSTLES.-The  aim  of  this 
article  is  to  answer  the  question.  What  does  the 
Acts  of  the  Apostles  say  of  Chri.st?;  otherwise  ex- 
pressed. How  is  the  Book  of  Acts  related  to  '  the 
gospel  ? '  or.  What  is  '  the  gospel '  of  the  Acts  ?  We 
do  not  know  the  name  of  the  author  of  the  book  — 


iple  of   St.   Paul 
;u])plied  valuable 


M'ith 


SI.  i'l'n  k  ai 


for  St.  Luke  or  some  other  dis( 
did  not  compose  it,  but  merely 
materials  for  its  composition— I lu 
dividuality  may  be  ascertained  Ir 
sufficient  clearness  to  enahle  \is  to  answer  tlie  ijues- 
tions  just  stated.  The  prolilmi  is  all  tin-  mtu'e 
interesting  because  the  author  can  hardly  have 
written  before  the  end  of  the  1st  cent.,  and  tlnis 
cannot  reckon  himself  among  the  first  eye-witnesses 
and  ministers  of  the  word  (Lk  1-).  What  then  is 
the  picture  of  Christ  that  stamps  itself  on  the 
heart  of  a  man  of  the  second  generation  V  Has 
this  man  anything  new,  anything  unique,  to  tell 
us  of  Him  ? 

Before  we  go  on  to  answer  this  question,  we 
must  nuike  it  clear  to  ourselves  that  our  author, 
in  what  he  writes,  does  not  always  speak  in  his 
own  ]}erson.  From  the  Gospel  of  St.  Luke  we 
know  to  what  an  extent  he  is  dependenton  sources. 
This  may  be  observed  and 
instances  by  a  close  comp.aris 
(in  the  case  of  the  di.sccjurses)  with  St.  Matthew. 
In  the  Gospel  he  is  almost  entirely  a  mere  retailer 
of  older  tradition,  and  the  lineaments  of  his  own 
personality  scarcely  come  into  view.  There  can 
be  no  doubt  that  likewise  in  the  Acts  he  largely 
reproduces  early  tradition,  thai  lie  makes  u.se  of 
sources,  sometimes  copyini^  tliein  in  full,  at  other 
times  abbreviating  or  'e.Ni.aniliiii;  them,  grouping 
them  and  editing  both  tlicir  language  and  their 
contents.  Modern  criticism,  however,  has  reached 
the  conviction  that  in  this  second  work  more  of  the 
author's  idiosyncrasy  is  to  be  detected  than  in  his 
Gospel.  Hence  it  will  be  necessary  to  make  the 
attempt  to  distinguish  the  notions  which  reveal  to 
us  the  educated  writer  of  the  last  decade  of  the 
1st  cent,  from  those  passages  in  which  the  rOle  is 
played  by  early  popular  tradition. 

The  author's  personality  undoubtedly  shows 
itself  more  strongly  in  the  second  than  in  the  first 
part  of  the  book,  but  most  clearly  in  the  way  in 
which  the  work  is  ananued  in  these  tw.,  p.irts,  so 
that  the  first  is  .l..n.iuale,l  l,y  the  |iris,,n  of  IVtcr 
and  the  second  by  Unit  of  I'aiil.  To  Ijini  tliel  'liureh 
rests    u)ion    the    foiUHlation    of    (li. 


til. 


l.s   and 

-ii.it  iiiM.ii  ,,„.■  .\i...stle,  as 

|^^.,u,■.^■l(  I,.;,.!.'!  ~,  t  ll.'  head 
^^llo  l,v  a  I  li  ^  in.' .li-pensa- 
1  ,-1  loi-Moii  to  I  h.-G. -utiles, 
llH-li.alli.-.i  world  who  by 
I  am  111-  lia.'k  on  his  own 
l!  lo  til.' G.-iitiles.  'Peter 
urd,  till'  shiblioleth  of  the 
find  again    in    the  First 


Divine  ijni.la,,..'  li, 
people  ,'111. 1  li.'lake  1 
and  Paul '  is  the  «i 
Roman  Church,  a 
Epistle  of  Clement. 
It  is  especially  in  the  .ipccclicn  contained  in  the 
■  '  ■'  '  '  "  t  the  author  reveals  his 
\X],rn  St.  Paul  dis- 
(li  ill  (  liiist  Jesus,'  the 
^.iM'i,  ill  V. -'•as 'right- 
Ill. I'jiii. 'lit  to  come.' 
I  'iii.ijii'.'iit  is  also  the 
,  ,',l  SI  I'linl's  address 
a|.|ioiiili'l  a  day  in  the 
mill  iu  right-eousness,' 


second  part  of  the  1 
conception  of  '  "    ' 
courses  (Ac  24 
subjects  of  hi; 


ACTS  OF  THE  APOSTLES 


ACTS  OF  THE  APOSTLES 


ami  immediately  thereafter,  '  by  a  man  w  lioiu  lie 
hath  (thereto)  ordained,  having  given  him  his 
credentials  before  all  men  by  having  raised  him 
from  the  dead.'  This  last  is  the  essentially  new 
point  in  contradistinction  from  tlie  Jewish  preach- 
ing in  the  Diaspora.  That  there  is  to  be  a  judg- 
ment of  the  world  had,  indeed,  been  already 
declared,  but  that  the  Judge  'appointed  by  God 
over  living  and  dead'  (10^=)  is  already  present  in 
heaven  (3-'),  has  already  been  manifested  on  earth 
(13  iQJOi.j^  and  accredited  by  God  throii^h  an  un- 
precedented miracle— this  is  the  cardinal  and  sig- 
nificant message  of  the  Apostles.  Now,  it  is 
noteworthy  how  the  author  of  the  Acts  gives 
point  and  practical  ajiplication  to  this  generally 
accepted  ido.a.  Tlie  vesurrretion  of  Jesus  is  the 
main  content  nf  tlie  A|i..~tn|ie  ]ireaching,  so  much 
so  that  in  1--'  the  .\|.u-tiis  are  roundly  designated 
'witnesses  (it  ilie  resiin-ertieii.'  In  the  eyes  of  our 
author  it  comes  to  this,  that  in  the  gospel  of  the 
resurrection  of  Jesiis  is  implied  the  doctrine  of  the 
resurrection  of  the  dead  in  general.  What  St. 
Paul  (1  Co  15'^"")  seeks  to  prove  to  his  readers,  is 
to  our  author  self-evident :  the  one  special  case 
implies  the  general.  This  is  plainly  declared  in 
Ac  4-  '  they  proclaimed  in  Jesus  the  resurrection 
from  the  dead.'  So  also  in  17'*  '  he  preached 
Jesus  and  the  resurrection,'  and  in  v.^^  '  the  resur- 
rection of  the  dead'  is  the  point  in  St.  Paul's 
address  on  which  the  Athenians  fix.  Before  the 
Sanhedrin  St.  Paul  declares :  '  Touching  the  hope 
and  resurrection  of  the  dead  I  am  called  in  ques- 
tion' (23");  to  Felix  he  says:  'I  have  the  hope 
that  there  shall  be  a  resurrection  both  of  the  just 
and  of  the  unjust'  (24").  The  latter  passage  is 
specially  important  because  in  it  the  relation  of 
Christianity  to  Judaism  is  defined  to  tlie  ett'ect 
that  there  is  really  no  essential  ditterence  between 
them.  St.  Paul,  like  his  accusers,  serves,  although 
after  the  new  '  Way,'  the  God  of  the  fathers  (v.i^) ; 
'  for  the  hope  of  Israel '  he  bears  his  chain  (28-"). 
All  Jews  who  believe  in  the  resurrection  ought 
really  to  be  Christians.  'Why  is  it  judged  in- 
credible with  you  if  God  doth  raise  the  dead?' 
(26*).  Hence  also  the  Pharisees,  who  believe  in 
the  resurrection  of  the  dead,  appear  as  the  party 
favourable  to  Christianity ;  wliereas  the  Sadducees, 
who  say  that  'there  is  no  resurrection,'  are  its 
enemies  (23*).  Resurrection,  tlien,  is  the  main 
theme  of  the  new  message,  hence  the  preaching  of 
the  Apostles  bears  the  designation  '  words  of  this 
Life '  (S*).  Tlie  Risen  One  is  '  the  Prince  of  Life ' 
(3'=).  By  His  resurrection  and  exaltation  He  is 
proved  to  be  the  Saviour  {<rurrip,  the  term  best 
answering  our  author's  purpose,  and  most  intel- 
ligible to  the  Greeks  of  the  time,  5*"-  13-^) ;  the 
'word'  is  the  'word  of  salvation'  (13'^);  and  the 
whole  of  tlie  Acts  of  the  Apostles  might  have  this 
motto  prefixed  :  '  In  none  other  is  there  salvation, 
and  neither  is  there  any  other  name  under  heaven, 
tliat  is  given  among  men,  wherein  wc  must  he 
saved'  (-1'-).  Tins  religion  is  proved  to  he  the 
superior  of  .-ill  e.irlier  ones,  sn|„  ri.n  alik.'  to  the 
darkness  of  heatlieinlonL  iJCi'"!  and  to  .[lelai-in,  in 
this,  that  it  tells  of  a  S.iri,,,,,- \\]ii>  ^:nr^,i/,ir.  The 
method  is  descriK.il  in  lo'-  i:;^'-  jr.i^  a-  the  forgive- 
ness of  sins,  or,  to  ii-.-  tlie  d.-ijnai  io,,  adopted  in 
oneof  St.  Paul's  a, Mi,  ^M~.  ■  jie-tili.  aiiun  '  (13^). 

But  who  now  is  the  . I  inline  and  Sa\ionr  accredited 
by  the  resurrection  ?  It  is  very  characteristic  of 
our  author  that  in  those  passages  where  for  the 
most  part  it  is  himself  that  speaks,  e.g.  in  the 
speeches  put  into  the  mouth  of  St.  Paul  before 
Agrippa  or  Felix  or  Festus  (chs.  22.  23),  we  scarcely 
hear  of  the  earthly  Jesus  but  of  the  heavenly  Lord. 
The  appearance  of  the  Exalted  One  near  Damascus 
is  the  great  matter  which  St.  Paul  has  to  com- 
municate to  his  countrymen  and   to  the  Jemsh 


king.  It  is  the  heavenly  Lord  that  permeates  tlie 
life  of  His  Church  and  His  apostles,  the  Kiptos  on 
whom  Christians  believe,  'fhis  Divine  name  is 
very  often  applied  in  the  Acts  to  God,  but  not 
infrequently  also  to  Christ.  Thus  the  Exalted 
Clirist,  working  miracles  from  heaven  by  His  name 
(9**),  accredited  by  the  miracle  of  the  resurrection, 
and  destined  to  come  again  with  judgment  and 
salvation,  occupies  the  central  point  of  the  faith  of 
our  author. 

But  it  would  be  a  mistake  to  suppose  that  our 
author  had  no  interest  in  the  earthly  Jesus  of 
Nazareth.  As  the  heavenly  Christ  says  to  Saul, 
'  I  am  Jesus  of  Nazareth  whom  thou  jiersecutest ' 
(22*),  so  to  the  writer  of  the  Acts  '  the  Christ'  and 
'  Jesus '  constitute  an  inseparable  unity.  He  inter- 
changes freely  such  e.xpressions  as  '  proclaimed 
unto  tlieni  the  Christ'  (8°)  and  '  preached  unto  him 
Jesus'  (v.  25) ;  cf.  5"  'to  preach  Christ  Jesus'  (RV 
'Jesus  [as]  the  Christ'),  ff-"  'proclaimed  Jesus  that 
he  is  tie  Sou  of  Cod,'  18*  'testifjring  to  the  Jews 
that  .Ie~u^  w  as  the  Christ.'  And  as  our  author  in 
his  Gos|>el  narrative  already  calls  Jesus  '  Lord,' it 
is  always  of  the  Exalted  One  that  he  thinks  even 
when  communicating  what  he  knows  of  the  earthly 
life  of  Jesus.  More  than  once  he  defines  the  con- 
tents of  the  Apostolic  preaching  as  '  the  things 
concerning  Jesus' (18-5)  or 'the  things  concerning 
the  Lord  Jesus  Christ'  (28*'),  and  this  concise 
formula  embraces  far  more  tlian  one  might  infer 
from  the  meagre  sketches  of  St.  Paul's  address  in 
1324-30  or  St.  Peter's  in  10*'-«.  We  must  keep  in 
mind  that  the  first  readers  of  the  Acts,  Tlieophilus 
in  particular,  when  this  work  came  into  their 
hands,  were  already  acquainted  with  the  Third 
Gospel,  and  would  thus,  by  means  of  the  full  details 
supplied  in  it,  unconsciously  clothe  with  meaning 
the  brief  forniulie  in  ciuestion.  Still  more  varied 
was  the  knowledge  which  our  author  possessed  of 
the  life  of  Jesus,  for  he  was  acquainted  not  only 
with  St.  Mark's  Gospel,  but  with  other  writings 
which  he  utilized  merely  for  extracts ;  and  how 
manifold  may  have  been  the  oral  tradition  current 
at  the  .same  time,  which  he  made  use  of  in  an 
eclectic  fashion  !  The  whole  of  this  copious  tradi- 
tion we  must  tliink  of  as  forming  the  background 
of  the  Acts  if  we  are  to  appreciate  rightly  its 
picture  of  Christ. 

A  special  charm  of  the  Lukan  writings  arises 
from  the  fact  that  the  author,  with  all  his  culture 
and  Greek  sympathies,  has  had  the  good  taste  to 
retain  in  lai^e  measure  the  peculiar,  un-Greek, 
popular  Palestinian  character  of  his  sources, 
and  that  both  in  language  and  contents.  Some 
scholars,  indeed,  are  of  opinion  tliat  lie  himself 
deliberately  produced  the  colouring  appropriate  to 
place  and  time,  as  in  the  case  of  an  artificial 
patina.  But  this  view  is  untenable.  The  more 
thoroughly  the  Third  Gospel  and  the  Acts  are  ex- 
amined, the  deeper  becomes  the  conviction  that  the 
author  worked  upon  a  very  ancient  tradition  which 
he  has  preserved  in  his  own  style.  As  in  the  early 
narratives  of  his  Gospel  he  preserves  almost  unim- 
paired the  colouring  and  tone  of  Jewish-Christian 
piety  without  any  admixture  of  Gr^co-Gentile- 
Chnstian  elements,  so  also  in  the  Acts,  especially 
in  the  first  part  of  the  book,  he  has  succeeded  in 
presenting  the  original  picture  of  the  religious  con- 
ceptions and  the  piety  of  the  earliest  Christian 
community  in  Jerusalem.  We  are  far  from  be- 
lieving that  everything  here  related  is  '  historical ' 
in  the  strict  sense.  For  instance,  it  is  in  the 
highest  degree  improbable  that  the  actual  speeches 
of  St.  Peter  have  been  preserved  verbatim  ;  all  we 
assert  is  that  these  chapters  are  a  true  representa- 
tion of  the  spirit  of  early  Jewish  Christianity. 
Very  specially  is  this  the  case  with  the  Christology. 
For  such  a  doctrine  of  Christ  as  is  represented  by 


ACTS  OF  THE  APOSTLES 


ACTS  OF  THE  APOSTLES 


27 


the  Petrine  discourses  was  scarcely  to  be  found  in 
the  Church  after  the  time  of  St.  Paul  and  at  the 
time  when  the  Fourth  Gospel  was  written.  After 
the  kcnosis  doctrine  of  St.  Paul  had  been  pro- 
pounded, and  then,  as  its  counterpart,  the  Johannine 
picture  of  Christ,  in  which  also  the  earthly  Jesus 
wears  the  'form  of  God,'  had  taken  hold  of  men's 
minds,  a  Christology  such  as  the  first  part  of 
the  Acts  exhibits  could  not  have  been  devised. 
But  we  are  grateful  to  the  autlior  for  having  pre- 
served to  us  a  picture  of  that  earliest  mode  of 
thought.     Let  us  examine  its  main  features. 

We  may  use  as  a  collateral  witness  the  words  of 
the  disciples  on  the  way  to  Emmaus  (Lk  24'^),  for 
it  is  a  mere  accident,  so  to  speak,  that  this  story 
is  found  in  the  Gospel  and  not  in  the  Acts  :  '  Jesus 
of  Nazareth,  which  was  a  prophet  {durip  TpotpriTv^), 
mighty  in  deed  and  word  before  God  and  all  the 
people.'  So  also  He  is  described  by  St.  Peter  : 
'Jesus  of  Nazareth,  a  man  approved  of  God  unto 
you  by  mighty  works  and  wonders  and  signs, 
which  God  did  by  him  in  the  midst  of  you'  (Ac 
2--).  The  peculiarity  of  this  last  statement  is  that 
the  wonders  and  signs  are  not  attributed  to  Jesus 
Himself :  God  wrought  them  through  Him  ;  He 
was  simply  God's  organ  or  instrument.  The  same 
thing  is  expressed  in  another  passage  (10^*),  where 
it  is  declared  that  in  His  going  about  and  in  His 
deeds  God  was  toith  Him.  In  both  instances  the 
conception  comes  out  clearly  that  Jesus  was  a  man 
chosen  and  specially  favoured  of  God.  There  is 
not  a  word  in  all  these  discourses  of  a  Divine  birth, 
no  word  of  a  coming  down  from  heaven  or  of  a 
'  Son  of  God '  in  a  physical  or  supernatural  sense. 
On  the  contrary,  Jesus  is  called  more  than  once 
'  the  Servant  of  God '  (3"-  -''  4=^).  This  designation 
suggests  a  prophet,  and  as  a  matter  of  fact  Jesus  is 
directly  characterized  as  a  prophet  when  in  4^  the 
words  of  Dt  IS'''-  '*'•  are  applied  to  Him.  At  the 
same  time  He  is  no  ordinary  prophet,  but  the  pro- 
phet like  unto  Moses  ;  He  is  tlie  second  Moses  pre- 
dicted by  Moses  himself. 

But  it  may  be  asked.  Was  Jesus  then  nothing 
more  than  this  to  the  earliest  disciples,  was  He  not 
to  them  the  Messiah  ?  In  a  certain  sense— yes,  and 
in  another  sense — no.  Certainly  He  had  received 
the  kingly  anointing  (10^) ;  but,  as  David  was 
anointed  long  before  lie  received  the  kingdom,  so 
Jesus  was  from  the  time  of  His  baptism  a  king, 
indeed,  but  a  secret  one  with  an  invisible  crown. 
The  primitive  Jewish-Christian  Church  was  far 
from  saying :  Jesus  of  Nazareth,  as  He  journeyed 
through  the  land  teaching  and  healing,  was  the 
Messiah  ;  no,  He  was  then  merely  the  One  destined 
for  lordship.  It  was  only  at  a  later  period  that 
He  received  the  crown,  namely  at  His  resurrection 
and  exaltation.  Here  conies  into  view  the  saying 
of  St.  Peter  in  Ac  2"'',  which  is  a  gem  to  the  his- 
torian of  primitive  Christianity  :  '  This  Jesus  hath 
God  made  both  Lord  and  Christ,'  namely  by  exalt- 
in"  Him  to  His  right  hand  (v.^^)  and  thereby  ful- 
lilling  the  words  of  Ps  110'  'Sit  thou  at  my  right 
hand.'  The  exaltation  of  Jesus  marks  His  ascen- 
sion of  the  throne  ;  now  He  has  become  in  reality 
what  since  His  baptism  He  was  in  claim  and 
anticipation— ' the  Anointed.'  Now  for  the  first 
time  the  name  '  Lord '  is  fully  appropriate  to  Him. 
This  is  the  principal  extant  proof  passage  for  the 
earliest  Christolo(jy.  It  reveals  to  us  the  concep- 
tions of  the  primitive  Church,  which,  as  a  matter 
of  fact,  still  underlie  the  teaching  even  of  St.  Paul. 
For,  in  spite  of  his  advanced  speculations  on  the 
subject  of  Christ,  in  spite  of  his  doctrine  of  pre- 
existence  and  his  cosmological  Christology,  the 
Apostle  holds  fast  in  Ro  1^  and  Ph  2"  to  the  notion 
that  Jesus  became  '  Son  of  God  in  power'  through 
His  resurrection  from  the  dead,  and  was  invested 
with  the  title  'Lord'  at  His  exaltation.     To  the 


same  effect  St.  Paul  in  Ac  \2P  applies  the  words  of 
Ps  2'  ('Thou  art  my  Son,  this  clnii  have  I  begotten 
thee')  not  to  the  birth  nor  to  the  baptism  of 
Jesus,  but  to  the  day  of  His  resurrection  and  exalta- 
tion. With  this  fundamental  passage  corresponds 
another.  When  in  Ac  3""-,  speaking  of  the  future, 
it  is  said  '  that  there  may  come  the  times  of  refresh- 
ing from  the  presence  of  the  Lord,  and  that  he  may 
send  the  Christ  who  hath  been  appointed  for  you, 
even  Jesus,'  this  assumes  that  Jesus  has  not  yet 
made  His  appearance  as  Messiah ;  in  that  capacity 
He  belongs  to  the  future  ;  there  is  not  a  word  of 
coming  again  or  of  a  second  sending.  Such  is  the 
earliest  primitive  Christian  conception,  and  it  is 
this  alone  which  is  in  harmony  with  the  preaching 
and  the  self-estimate  of  Jesus  when  these  are 
rightly  understood. 

But  what  now  are  the  contents  and  the  signifi- 
cance of  the  life-work  of  Jesus?  Thorouglily  in 
harmony  with  important  words  of  Jesus,  Ac  10™ 
replies :  '  He  went  about  doing  good,  and  healing  all 
that  were  oppressed  of  the  devil. '  Just  as  the  Tliird 
Gospel  delights  to  represent  the  work  of  Jesus  as  a 
conflict  with  the  devil,  the  brief  formula  we  have 
quoted  reproduces  accurately  the  contents  of  His 
life  work.  Along  with  this,  indeed,  should  be 
taken  also  S""  '  God  sent  him  to  bless  you  in  turn- 
ing away  every  one  of  you  from  your  iniquities.' 
He  was  'the  Holy  and  Righteous  One'  (3"),  or, 
absolutely,  'the  Righteous  One' (7").  The  latter 
expression  is  chosen  no  doubt  in  order  to  emphasize 
His  innocence  in  His  sufi'erings  and  deatli,  but  it  is 
certainly  not  contrary  to  the  spirit  of  the  Acts  to 
find  in  it  the  testimony  that  it  was  He  that  was 
called  to  break  the  sway  of  sin  in  the  world.  Less 
clear  is  Ac  10^,  according  to  which  God  caused 
'peace  to  be  preached  by  Jesus  to  the  children 
of  Israel,'  a  form  of  expression  which  recalls  Eph 
2",  and  in  its  abrupt  conciseness  no  doubt  reflects 
the  conceptions  of  the  author  more  than  those  of 
the  early  Church. 

This  brings  us  to  the  question.  What  view,  judging 
from  the  evidence  of  the  Acts,  did  the  early  Church 
take  of  the  death  of  Christ?  Repeatedly  in  the 
addresses  of  St.  Peter  it  is  urged  upon  opponents 
that  this  Jesus,  tlie  Holy  and  Righteous  One,  was 
put  to  death  by  the  Jews  (2=3  3'^  iw.^«.  S^«.  752 
10^"  13=»),  by  the  hands  of  wicked  men  (2'^),  although 
Pilate  was  prepared  to  acquit  Him  (3").  In  all 
these  instances,  as  was  fitting  in  addresses  meant 
to  lead  the  hearers  to  conviction  and  repentance, 
the  innocence  of  Jesus  is  emphasised  as  a  point  to 
awaken  conscience,  not  as  an  element  in  a  doctrine 
of  the  atoning  death  of  Christ.  Such  an  element 
is  entirely  lacking  in  these  chapters,  for  in  the 
passage  from  Is  53  about  the  Suffering  Servant, 
which  Philip  expounded  to  the  Ethiopian  eunuch, 
it  is  precisely  the  expressions  about  bearing  our 
sins  that  are  wanting.  The  early  theology  of  the 
death  of  Christ  confines  itself  entirely  to  the  point 
that  this  event  was  in  no  way  contrary  to  God's 
saving  purpose  ;  on  the  contrary,  it  had  long  been 
foreseen  (2^  3"  4='  13-").  Hence  the  copious  Scrip- 
ture proofs,  which,  however,  deal  more  with  the 
resurrection  than  with  the  sutl'erings  and  death 

(225ff.3Jf.  411.25!.  8ra.l333ff.)_ 

The  resurrection  is  not  in  these  passages,  as  with 
St.  Paul,  regarded  as  a  clothing  of  the  Risen  One 
with  a  glorified  body,  but  as  tlie  revivification,  or, 
to  put  it  better,  the  conservation  of  the  very  same 
body  of  flesh  which  was  laid  in  the  grave.  The 
principle  that  governs  the  conception  is  found  in 
Ps  16'"  (quoted  in  Ac  2"),  '  Thou  wilt  not  leave  my 
soul  to  Sheol,  neither  wilt  thou  suft'er  thine  holy 
one  to  see  corruption.'  For,  if  Christ  did  descend 
to  Hades,  He  was  not  given  over  to  its  power  (2^'), 
God  'having  loosed  "the  pangs  of  death,"  because 
it  was  not  possible  that  he  should  be  holden  of  it ' 


ADAjM 


(V .-,,  '  nor  did  his  fl^>  ^- -^-i:^^'  ^S^  M 
is  the  essential  point,  "i.^^  '\':  ^/j  ^^i,  ^oi  again 
was  laid  in  the  grave  ^vas  * '  «  ^^  ''^^^^ '  i  (24"«  «), 

the  A|cension       ).     ^^^^^  ,tai  ,^  Ul.s  on  earth  -^n  ' 
carried  up  by  a  cloud,  '^^"^  ^""  i^tj^n  -.i^  s  nothm 

its  crudest  form      That   a„  autnoi  ^^^^^^^ 

Sru;^s='Cp»'"'£."U .  puce » 

Tms  exalta/on  and  Me-ahsh.p^2-  ;>     T'- - 
the  culminating  point  of  fet    Fete,  s  t-en^e 
address  (2--),  ^vlios«  on.,   of    b  .  -b      -ms^^^^ 
very  interesting  study  for  the  htuin  , 

Christianity.     Tins  proof  is        li         1      >'^^   ^^^Y 
to  the  house  of  Israel  (2*)       l  '         ^  > 

indeed,  seen  the  Risen  One  (lU^  )   lut  l      t  ^t  xery 
reason  His  exaltation  is  de'^'g"^.^,'  \'  "|^'\ 
of  leading  Israel  to  repentance  (o=>o   the  c 
of  the  era  of  salvation  is  1  """^^  "  '  ;\'  ''  \ 


ADAM 

Person    .lbs  Oeod  m,  claims  that  the  first  man 
tote  "itoless   uUhtionto  the  (.ospel  nauative, 


refront  of  hi-^  <-. 
.nstfrst  Paul 
ti  juxtai-OsiUi 


,,  1,1  inU     t  nnnKma  in  then   phjsical 

nxohesunuer^al  death  as  a  consequence  ot 

'       'l' , ,      s  I  tue  of  hinf  «ho  « •«  to  come    (;  »), 
fl.     .si  taffcctrfall  men      Adam    omm.tted  a 

'^^.Ulnoulh  sm  ewe  pM;.c^j,^-t^„  ^^  ^^X^^^^Z 

,,  "Z^  h\man  ^POns.>>..,t.      But  .t  Pa,^.  without 
'r^Tuul^-^ZtJeZJu^n^^^^ol  of  gu.lt  .nd 

-r\  mdiMdual  man  ''"^'"'^'^  ""  j'' I  "  ^,Jnsp  Au  ustnie  and 
Cont\o.e.s,ha-a.edhot,,^r^^^^^^^^^ 

man\  othtr  writers  iiaMiio  or,  \  nl '  in  ouo     Lut  there    an, 

hne  and  as  refer. .n^  to  Ada,.,    so  |^^=   "  ^,^^  ,,,„^i  ,„ein.n„ 
.^..l^-^A^  JfV,nrred^;r.ne.,  -n  -  ami  th^ej..^^ 
aeath    but  m.»  «as  he»u;e  all  mu,  ,,n   te.e  to  .Wu.s  «.e 
^ttemptb  that  haxe  been  luade  toe  ml  imt  e^st^  ^^^  ,peak,n,', 
the  ...oral  histo.\  of  ...an  (*,^f ,' "'''^ '',  ,  '  ,     ,  ,t  „nn\  of  the 
annot  fulh  and  lo^.calh  It  I  ii     i     ■  ,i  __„    ^, 

'fundamental  t.uths  of 
,1  at  oiiU  b\  the  balanti 
;|Ualifii-atlon 


J         ,  t  itements 

I      '  St  Paul  to 

I  ii\  i2foruis 

'  ,  1  I       II  he.ng  an 

edUtxvcu,  Vlxm  and  Moses 

ni^u  ...  law,  and  thus  *'>  "°' ''=S'=J  deafc  "'-""^  throughout 
Adam  had  done     But  tj^ij'^^  ™^^etuilt  of  .T.d.v -duals  but- 


1  his  constructK  n  and  n 
the  p.otasis  He  feels  oU 
offence  "S'""^*'";;"^  ^°d^n 


j  that  per.od  onh 


n 


Th 


rl,-s 


til 


pentance  (S'" 

Lord  is  ever 

power  and  su 

5^6^);  and  11....-  -- 

God(6«).     Itisnotewoitlu     i.  ■ 

rarely  that  the  Spirit  of  l-o^l 

conuexiuu;  far  more  fre.iu.iitl 

Christ  that,  like  a  present   i 

Lord,  works  miracles  { i'"  4   ) 

^K^^'^^^=;the'u:e^^ii^-Nanie-^ 
resorted  to  even  by  uiil.elieveri 

LiTERATCRB.— Johamie^  w.i.      , 
der  ApostelyeschtchU'-.^'''''''   ■    , 
UrchrlMenttm  \  ^^9'^'.'' ■!„„„„■  i 
Ane-  Hort,  J-udaishc  cnichuannu  , 
£j;i»"o,-,'.v.iv.[1891J178fl. 


ts  of        on      th 

(  )    o  ba  Ic  beh    a 

d  rad  cal  d  ffe  ence 

,        I     (    1     ok  for    ard  and  si  o  v  that 

"'talbearufeonthetruthof      a    3  res  r 


res  of  11  str 


J.  Wlis 


'     snJM     1   In  Lk  3'^  the  ancestiy  of  Jesu    i 
ADAM.— 1.  m  J-^  "     p  jja^t   source    the 

mm?mm 

conhned  t".^''*'^ H^'' Ve'cendant  of  Abraham  only 

??;,,,  h  s,  Luke  closes  his  genealogy  with 
' ;"  .     ; .ids  '  the  son  of  Adam,  the  son  of 

" '  " "     ,  ' 'o  ecoO).     Adam,  and  therefore 

'u'"  !„l.uJ  had  a  Divine  origin.  The  same 
K va nge  Ut  who  relates  the  fact  of  t^- -^^  ^J^; 
and  records  that  Christ  was,  m  His  o«n  p.opei 


sented  tl  us 


TYXH  = 

».  *  •.  „nt  ^..ZuM  may  be  called  '  psychical ' 
Everything  }"  }^--^t!rJ '^0^7--'^  ' '=^™"' '  ^"th  the 
in  so  far  as  .t  is  ™nsmereu  a»  ^^^^^^  passions  ;  both  the 

SJL'tives"^';;;:.!  ZT^:;.t°  thus  mean  '  non-spiritual.     The 


ADULTERY 


second  half  of  &t  Paul  s  statement — *  the  last  Adam  became  a 
life  givmg  spirit  —finds  no  exact  parallel  in  the  OT,  but  seems 
to  be  based  on  a  remmiscence  of  Mes&ianic  passafjcs  which  speak 
vine  Spirit  eq  Is  111  2  n  228  32 
/I  C^iatrc^  fame  hist  and  the  tveu/aoi  Iojotoiouv 
L.  cl       ]  ]        I  t  of  mankind,   the  spiiituil 


Tou  xoi^^v)  but  tht  tiniL  13  lomint,  1 
exact  counterpart  or  inia_,e  of  the  S( 
because  of  our  spintual  union  with  Hn 


.    (£,-., 


i  become  the 
pond  Man  (cf    Gn  i^^i") 

The  above  follows  the  text  of  B  a  c  g  17  aeth. 
arm.  [syr.  ■  «  *^  \  <  is  indeterminate] ;  and  Theodoret  dis- 
tinctly says  Tfl  yaf>  (^o^UofjLiv  npoppY.vtySi^  ou  ^xpaiytrixui  t',py,xiv. 
The  mass  of  authorities  read  i^apiira/Lctv,  *  from  a  desire  to  turn 
what  is  really  a  physical  assertion  into  an  ethical  exhortation  ' 
(Alf.);  so  ChVys.,  tout' £o-rjv,  a^((rT06  T/jagar^Ev  .  .  .  trvf^iioukeurixus 
tiirtKyii  Tok  Xoyov.  But  it  is  difficult  to  conceive  how  St.  Paul, 
who  has  from  v. ^5  been  leading  up  to  the  thoufxht  of  the  resur- 
rection, coiild  at  the  critical  moment  throw  his  argument  to  the 
winds,  and  content  himself  with  saying,  '  according  as  we  have 
been  earthly  in  our  thoughts,  let  us  strive  to  be  heavenly.' 

It  has  been  suggested  that  St.  Paul  adopted  the  designation 
of  Christ  as  '  the  last  Adam '  and  '  the  second  Adam'  from 
Uabbinic  theology.  But  such  a  comparison  between  Adam 
and  the  Messiah  was  unknown  to  the  earlier  Jewish  teachers. 
Passages  adduced  to  support  it  belong  to  the  Middle  Ages,  and 
are  influenced  by  the  ^fabbala.  See  O.  P.  Moore,  JUL  xvi. 
(1897),  158-161;  Dalman,  The  Words  of  Jestis,  Eng.  tr.  248  f., 
251  f. 

(d)  Ph  20.  St.  Paul  speaks  of '  Christ  Jesus,  who  being  [in  His 
eternal  and  inherent  nature,  CTa.pxa)v]  in  the  form  of  God, 
deemed  it  not  a  thing  to  be  snatched  at  (ip-Txyij.it)  to  be  on  an 
equality  with  God.'  There  is  here  an  implied  contrast  with 
Adam,  who  took  fruit  from  the  tree  of  knowledge  of  good  and 
evil,  which  God  said  had  made  him  '  as  one  of  us '  (Gn  322). 

2.  In  Mt  lO''"  II  Mk  lO^-s  reference  is  made  by 
Jcsu.s  to  the  account  of  Adam  and  Eve  in  Gn  l'" 
'  male  and  female  created  he  them  '  (cipae^  Kal  eijXv 
iiroli)(Tev  avTois).  Phari.sees  came  and  asked  Him 
whether  divorce  was  allowable  ['  for  any  cause,' 
Mt.].  Our  Lord's  answer  is  intended  "to  show 
that  the  provision  made  for  divorce  in  the  Mosaic 
law  (Dt  24')  was  onhr  a  concession  to  the  hardness 
of  men's  hearts.  The  truer  and  deeper  view  of 
marriage  whicli  f'hi  isti.iiis  sIh.uM  :iil(i|it  iuu>t  be 
based  on  a  nolilci-  nii.i-ility,  "H  :>  ni. utility  wliidj 
takes  its  stand  111!  (h.-  iirii'ii'>\-:il  ii,'iliiri>  of  I'liaii  and 
woman  as  Goil  iiKidr  thciii.  ''I'o  Miit  (tt/h'is)  your 
hardness  of  heart  he  wrote  for  you  tliis  coniiiKiiiil- 
ment.  But  from  the  beginning  of  tlie  creaticm 
"he  made  them  male  and  female."'  And  with 
this  quotation  is  coupled  one  from  Gn  2-^  (see  also 
Eph  5^'),  '  For  this  cause  shall  a  man  leave  his 
father  and  mother  [and  shall  cleave  to  his  wife 
(Mt.)],  and  they  twain  shall  become  one  flesh.'  The 
same  result  is  reached  in  Mt.,  but  with  a  trans- 
position of  the  two  parts  of  the  argument.  See 
Wright's  Synopsis,  in  loc.  Thus  Jesus  bases  the 
absolute  indissolubility  of  the  marriage  tie  on  the 
union  of  man  and  woman  from  the  first.  In  Mt 
19"  5'2  this  pronouncement  is  practically  annulled 
by  the  admission  of  the  words  '  e.xcept  for  fornica- 
tion (/IT)  iivl  TTopvciq.,  and  irapfKTbs  X470U  vopvilas). 
See  Wright,  in  loc,  who  contends  that  'the 
Church  (of  Alexandria?)  introduced  these  two 
clauses  into  the  Gospel  in  accordance  with  the 
permission  to  legislate  which  our  Lord  gave  to  all 
Churches  (Mt  I8'«).'    See  art.  Marriage. 

3.  In  Ju  8''-'  a.vepunvoKT6voi  may  refer  to  the  intro- 
duction of  death  into  the  world  by  the  fall  of 
Adam.     But  sue  art.  AliEL. 


dropped  from  the  Cross,  washed  awav  the  sins  of  the  buried 
protoplast  *  the  first  Adam  and  thus  the  words  of  the  apostle 
were  fulfilled, —quoting  Eph  51-1  Epiphimuq  (contia  Hour 
\1m  5)  goes  farther  stating  that  C  hri^l  s  11  or!  dropped  upon 
Adams  skull  and  restored  him  to  life  The  tradition  is  men 
lloiiLd  also  bj  Basil     \ii  1  1  1   I    tli  I 


1)111  ;/    (  ryof 

I  I      I  I  I  /the 

Adam  and  the  Aew  Buth  ,  Thackeray,  The  Uelation  of  St 
Paul  to  Contemporary  Jewish  Thovght,  ch  n 

A.  H  M'Neilc 
ADDL— An  ancestor  of  Jesus  Christ,  Lk  3'^ 

ADULTERY  (/xoixe'a).— This  word  is  used  to  de- 
note the  sexual  intercourse  of  a  married  man  or 
woman  with  any  other  than  the  person  to  whom 
he  or  she  is  bound  by  the  marriage  tie.  It  has 
.sometimes  been  maintained  that  juoixe'a  is  confined 
in  its  use  to  the  misdemeanours,  in  this  respect,  of 
the  woman.  That  it  has,  however,  a  wider  sense 
is  evidenced  by  the  reference  which  Jesus  makes  to 
the  inward  lust  of  any  man  after  ani/  woman  (Sri 
Tras  6  p^iivuiv  -yvvaZKa  Trpos  rb  eTri0viJ.rj(Tai.  aur^s  -rjdi) 
ifiolxevaei'  avrijv,  k.t.X.,  Mt  5"*).  The  word  iropvela  is 
also  employed  to  describe  this  sin,  though  it  has 
been  contended  that  it  refers  solely  to  pre-nuptial 
immorality  ;  and  again  we  have  a  reference  made  by 
Jesus  in  His  teaching  to  this  sin,  which  disposes 
of  that  contention,  and  which  establishes  the  fact 
that  the  married  woman  who  connnits  herself  in 
this  way  was  said  to  be  guilty  of  iropvela  (cf.  tra- 
peKrbs  Xoyov  wopvda^,  Mt  5^-,  and  (ei)  /xrj  eVi  wopvelif, 
Mt  19").  In  both  passages  just  quoted  Jesus  makes 
the  woman's  guilt  the  ground  of  His  teaching  on 
divorce.  With  these  examples  we  may  compare 
the  words  of  Am  7"  (LXX)  .  .  .  ri  ym-q  aov  iv  rg 
TToXei  TtopyevacL,  k.t.X.,  where  the  form  of  the  expres- 
sion incidentally  but  conclusively  carries  out  our 
argument. 

A  very  favourite  figure  of  speech,  by  which  the 
intimate  relations  of  Jeliovah  and  Israel  were  de- 
noted by  GT  writers,  was  that  of  marriage  (see,  e.g., 
Ts  54'' (;■>,. I i;r. •?'■',  Ibis  i- '''■-") :  .111, 1   ar,,ii,li.igly  in 

|"'.,i,lrlr,,iiitlii_'.-illai-s,,lM,.|io\:,li,;,ii,l  ili.n  irpeated 
rfvi'isi..ii,s  t(i  the  ^^(,^^llil.  .-ui.l  pi.-iriirrs  ,,!'  their 
li.'.-illiciiiiriulilK.ui-,s,  w,.ir>l,Lji,iaii/j'd  as 'adultery' 
{,n'i,,,h    ,„■    i,,-i,i,luni,  .I.-.-    1:;-,    h:/k    -Ja";   cf.  Is  5V, 

•  Ici'  .■)"■,  I'./k  -S.i"].  This  uaiisiriciice  of  an  idea 
fruiii  I  ha  ilaily  s.H-ial  lifu  lo  I  he  life  spiritual  finds 
its  pla.r  111  \\i,-  (rachinu  of  .Jesu.s_,  whose  example 
in  this  r.  -jiiii  I-  followed  by  writers  of  a  subse- 
queiil  |i'Mici(|  iii..l.a4').  The  generation  in  which 
He  li\LMl  was  .h  iiouiKcd  by  Him,  for  its  continued 
rejection  of  His  .laiins,  .is  'wirki-il  .and  adulterous' 
(yevta  iroPTlpa.  /,ai  /;<H\a\is,  !\lt  i'J''  Hi';  d.  also  Mk 
8^).  It  is,  of  .a.uise.  [K.-ssihle  thai  .1,-sus  l,y  these 
words  had  in  \ie\v  the  social  evils  of  lli.s  day,  as 
well  as  the  general  lack  of  spiritual  religion. 
'That  nation  and  generation  might  be  called 
adulterous  literally  ;  for  what  else,  I  liesccch  you, 
Vas  their  irreligious  polyg.iniy  than  coiiliiinal 
adultery?    And  what  else  was  ilaii  mdinaiy  inac 

tice  of  divorcing  their  wives I.--     umIuioh  . 

according  to  every  man's  foolish  ,,v  iiaiiLhi\  \mII  ' 
(Lightfoot,  Hm:  Heb.  et  Talm^nl.  ,,,/  .\li  12--'). 
it  is  not  necessary,  however,  in  the  ini  irinctation 
of  His  teaching  in  this  and  similar  plar.  ,~  lo  insist 
on  such  .-i  view  of  His  words.  Thf  ciitiic  liody  of 
till'  rcconled  teaching  of  Jesus  betrays  the  most 
iniiniatr  ac([uaiutance  with  the  literature  and 
i-lhir.al  tendencies  of  the  OT. 

That  exceedingly  lax  and  immoral  views  of  this 

sin  were  held  generally  by  the  generation  in  which 

Jesus  lived,  becomes  evident  not  only  from   His 

casual  references  to  the  .subject,  but  also  from  His 

>  Cf.  Wis.' 71. 


30 


ADULTERY 


ADULTERY 


positive  teaching  in  answer  to  hostile  questions 
addressed  to  Him  about  adultery  and  the  kindred 
subject  of  divorce.  We  are  also  confronted  with 
the  same  phenomenon  in  the  writings,  cf).,  of 
Josephus  (cf.  Ant.  IV.  viii.  23;  Vita,  §76),  Sir  7^ 
25=«  42=,  and  in  the  Talmud.  Tlie  result  of  the 
teaching  of  Hillel  was  of  the  worst  description, 
reducing  as  it  did  the  crime  of  adultery  to  the  level 
of  an  ordinary  or  minor  fault.  This  Rabbi  actually 
went  the  len^tli,  in  his  interpretation  of  the 
Deuteronomic  law  of  divorce  as  stated  in  Dt  24^, 
of  laying  down  the  rule  that  a  man  might  ])ut 
away  his  wife  'if  she  cook  her  husband's  food 
badly  by  salting  or  roasting  it  too  much'  (see 
Lightfoot,  Hor.  Heb.  ct  Talmud,  ad  Mt  S^'),  and 
R.  'A^iba,  improving  on  this  instruction,  inter- 
preted the  words  '  if  she  find  no  favour  in  his  eyes ' 
as  giving  permission  to  a  man  to  divorce  his  wife 
'  if  he  sees  a  woman  fairer  than  her.' 

On  the  other  hand,  R.  Shammai  refused  to  take 
a  view  so  loose  and  immoral,  and  in  his  exposi- 
tion of  the  Deuteronomic  permission  confined  the 
legality  of  divorce  to  cases  of  proved  unchastity 
on  the  part  of  the  wife.  Other  celebrated  Rabbins 
took  a  similarly  rigid  view  of  this  question,  while 
all,  of  every  school,  were  agreed  that  the  crime  of 
adultery  demanded  divorce  as  its  punishment. 
The  form  of  the  question  addressed  to  Jesus  by 
the  Pharisees  {Kara  iraaav  aWlav)  in  Mt  19^  shows 
the  nature  of  the  controversy  between  the  rival 
Rabbinical  schools,  and  also  lets  us  see  how  far 
the  j)ernicious  teacliing  of  the  school  of  Hillel  had 
permeated  the  social  fabric.  Men's  ideas  about 
this  sin  were  also  debased  by  the  polygamous 
habits  then  prevalent.  Of  Herod  the  Great  we  read 
that  he  had  ten  wives ;  which,  according  to  Jose- 
phus, was  not  only  permissible,  but  had  actually  be- 
come a  common  occurrence  amongst  the  Jews,  '  it 
being  of  old  permitted  to  the  Jews  to  marry  many 
wives'  {BJ  I.  xxiv.  2).  In  another  place  the  .same 
historian  remarks,  in  connexion  with  the  story  of 
the  Herodian  family,  that  '  it  is  the  ancient  prac- 
tice among  us  to  have  many  wives  at  the  same 
time '  (Ant.  XVII.  i.  2).  There  seems  to  have  been 
no  hard  and  fast  rule  limiting  the  number  of  wives 
permissible  to  each  man,  but  their  teachers  advised 
them  to  restrict  themselves  to  four  or  five  (cf. 
Schiirer,  HJP  i.  i.  455,  note  125). 

From  these  observations  we  see  what  an  im- 
portant bearing  the  teaching  of  Jesus  had  on  the 
current  conceptions  of  sexual  morality  obtaining 
amongst  His  countrymen.  It  is  quite  in  harmony 
with  His  method  of  instruction  to  reduce  the  overt 
commission  of  a  sin  to  the  element  out  of  which  it 
originates  and  takes  its  shape.  '  A  corrupt  tree 
cannot  bring  forth  good  fruit  (Mt  7'"-,  cf.  12^  and 
Lk  6'^'-),  and  the  heart  corrupted  by  evil  desire 
fructifies,  just  as  surely,  by  an  inexorable  law  of 
nature.  1  here  exists  within  the  man  whose  inner 
life  is  thus  tainted  not  merely  latent  or  gelminal 
sin,  .such  as  may  or  may  not  yet  issue  in  deeds  of 
wrong.  The  lustful  eye  gazing  with  sinful  longing 
is  the  consummation,  — the  fruit  of  the  corrupt  tree, 
— and  so  far  as  the  man's  will  is  concerned,  the 
sinful  act  is  completed  (Mt  5^).  The  note  of  stern- 
ness which  characterizes  this  teaching  is  not  alto- 
gether original,  as  will  be  seen  if  we  refer  to  such 
commands  as  are  found,  e.g.,  in  Ex  20",  Pr  6",  Sir 
9*  etc. ,  and  to  such  interpretative  sayings  in  the 
Talmud  as  forbade  the  gazing  upon  'a  woman's 
heel '  or  even  upon  her  '  little  finger'  (cf.  Lightfoot, 
Hor.  Heb.  et  Talmud,  ad  Mt  a^).  The  ethical 
foundation,  however,  upon  which  Jesu.s  based  His 
doctrine  strikes  the  reader  as  being  the  deepest 
and  the  firmest  of  any  that  had  as  yet  been  re- 
vealed on  the  subject ;  and  this  miist  have  seemed 
to  His  hearers  to  be  not  the  least  remarkable  of 
those   luminous    addres.'se.s   by   wliich   He  contra- 


C^ 


dieted  the  laboriously  minute  guidance  of  their 
moral  and  religious  guides.  We  are  not  concerned 
here  to  inquire  whether  Jesus  put  no  difference 
between  the  guilt  of  the  man  who,  though  he  has 
lustful  desires,  abstains  from  carrying  them  into 
practice,  and  that  of  the  man  who  completes  them 
by  the  sinful  act.  Common  sense  forbids  us  to 
suppose  that  Jesus  put  out  of  sight  the  social 
asi)ects  of  the  question  when  He  discussed  it. 
What  is  of  importance  is  to  note  the  lofty  tone 
assumed  by  Him  when  engaged  in  inculcating  the 
absolute  necessity  of  sexual  purity.  Nor  is  it  pos- 
sible to  infer  that  Jesus  confined  His  remarks  to 
the  case  of  those  who  were  married.  The  general 
terms  into  which  He  casts  His  instruction  (ttos  6 
ffKiwuv)  forbids  us  to  assume  that  ywaiKa  and 
i/iolxeva-ey  are  to  be  limited  to  the  post-nuptial 
sin  with  a  married  woman.  It  gives  a  much  more 
fitting  as  well  as  a  truer  meaning  to  Jesus'  words 
if  we  think  of  Him  as  giving  directions  for  the 
guidance  of  the  entire  social  and  ethical  life  to  all 
members  of  society  whether  married  or  otherwise.; 

According  to  the  laws  of  the  ancients,  those 
"of  adultery  were  to  be  put  to  death,  whether 
burning  (Gn  SS--")  or  by  stoning  (Jn  8^,  cf.  Dt 
22=3"'-,  Lv  20'",  Ezk  IS"'^-).  This  punishment  was 
not,  however,  universally  prescribed;  for  where 
the  woman  was  a  slave,  and  consequently  not  the 
owner  of  her  own  person,  the  man  was  exonerated 
by  presenting  a  guilt-ottering  (Lv  IQ"*").  It  is 
doubtful,  indeed,  if  ever  cajiital  punishment  was 
insisted  on.  Lightfoot,  for  example,  says  :  '  I  do 
not  remember  that  I  have  anywhere  in  the  Jewish 
pandect  read  any  example  of  a  wife  punished  with 
death  for  adultery'  (Horm  Heb.  et  Talmud,  ad 
Mt  19').  This  statement  is  borne  out  by  such 
incidental  references  as  we  have  in  Mt  1'',  where 
Joseph  receives  the  praise  of  his  contemporaries 
{dUaws  iiv)  for  his  merciful  intention ;  and  if  the 
story  of  Hosea's  wife  is  to  be  taken  literally,  we 
have  an  OT  example  of  mercy  towards  the  guilty 
being  recommended,  and  even  of  divorce  not  being 
suggested  as  a  punislnnent.  Jesus  Himself  also 
leaned  to  the  side  of  mercy  ;  and  nowhere  does  the 
tenderness  of  His  solicitude  for  the  guUty  sinner 
appear  so  deep  as  in  the  traditional,  yet  doubtless 
genuine,  narrative  incorporated  in  the  Fourth 
Gospel  ( Jn  7"-8").  For  a  discussion  of  the  '  peri- 
cope  adulterae '  see  Blass,  Ev.  sec.  Liccam,  Pref.  p. 
xlvii,  and  his  Philolotiy  of  the  Gospels,  pp.  155-163. 

A  closer  examination  than  we  have  as  yet 
attempted  in  this  place,  of  the  words  and  teaching 
of  Jesus  Christ  will  reveal  some  startling  results, 
and  furnish  obvious  reasons  to  explain  the  diffi- 
culties which  have  been  always  felt  on  the  re- 
lations of  adultery,  divorce,  and  remarriage,  by 
Christian  thinkers  and  legislators.  A  compara- 
tive examination  of  t)ie  pnssaces  in  the  Synoptic 
writers  (Mt  &-  W.  Mk  In'".,  \,\  le")  discloses  a 
peculiar  addition  tn  ih,.  \\.,i,N  ;liii1  teaching  in  the 
first  of  these  plac-.  A,  ,oi.liii,u'  to  Mt  5*=,  Jesus 
asserts  thnt  tlic  \\\\i-  who  is  wrongfully  divorced 
is  involvf.l  ( inii].ulM,iily  in  tlie  guilt  of  her  hus- 
band. Ill'  i-  ii'i  "Illy  M\  adulterer  himself  (Lk 
16'*),  b\it  III-  (;uiM>  iiir  to  be  an  adulteress,'  or 
rather  'he  makes  lier  to  commit  adultery'  (jroici 
a.vTT]v  juoixei'SJji'ot).  The  interpretation  which  would 
explain  tliese  words  as  if  they  meant  that  the 
divorced  wife  is  placed  in  such  a  position  that  she 
probably  wUl  commit  adultery  by  marrying  another 
man,  is  manifestly  unsatisfactory.  The  statement 
is  unqualified  even  if  we  are  absolutely  convinced 
of  the  genuineness  of  the  succeeding  words,  '  k-ai  5? 
.  .  .  ^otxarai.'  [They  are  omitted  by  Dll,  see  WH, 
New  Test,  in  Greek].  It  is  as  if  Jesus  said  :  'The 
wife  who  is  divorced  is,  in  virtue  of  her  false  posi- 
tion, an  adulteress  though  .she  be  innocent,  and 
tlie  man  who  marries  her  ^\hile  she  occupies  that 


ADULTERY 


ADULTERY 


31 


a  willing  partner  in  her  guilt.' 
\t  is  not  too  much  to  say  that,  in  this  jilace,  we 
liavo  a  jilinijisc  of  the  profound  depth  which  Jesus 
was  afoistimicd  to  sound  in  His  ethical  teaching. 
Marriage  is  a  Divine  institution,  and  has  its  roots 
in  the  eternal  order  of  tilings  (cf.  Mt  19^"").  It 
results  in  a  mystical  union  so  close  that  the  married 
pair  are  no  longer  two ;  they  have  become  '  one 
flesh.'  With  this  wo  may  compare  the  teaching 
which  St.  Paul  embodies  in  a  few  luminous  words 
based  on  his  Christological  doctrine  (Eph  5-"^, 
especially  vv.^  and  "'),  and  of  which  he  says  '  this 
mystery  is  great.' 

We  have  thus  a  clue  to  the  meaning  of  the  diffi- 
cult expression  iroui  txvTTjv  fioix^vBiivai.  Any  mode 
of  conduct  or  action  which  tends  to  mar  or  set  at 
nought  the  mysterious  relationship  of  marriage  is 
of  the  essence  of  adultery.  Perhaps  we  shall  not 
be  considered  to  be  importing  more  meaning  into 
words  than  they  were  originally  intended  to  con- 
vey, if  we  press  the  Markan  addition  iirl  avTT\v  into 
our  service  here.  Jesus,  according  to  St.  Mark, 
seems  to  teach  His  hearers  that  the  husband  in 
wrongfully  divorcing  his  wife  is  guilty  of  the 
aggravated  sin  of  dragging  her  into  tl'ie  slough 
wliere  he  is  himself  already  wallowing.  On  him 
falls  the  woe  pronounced  in  another  connexion  by 
Jesus  (Mt  18^' ') ;  for  he  compels  his  wife  to  occupy 
a  position  which  is  a  living  contradiction  of  the 
Divine  law.  A  course  of  action  tending  to  the 
dissolution  of  that  which  in  the  Divine  intention 
is  indissoluble,  Jesus  places  in  the  (category  of 
adulteroiis  acts.  He  mentions  nothing  as  to  His 
view  of  the  case  of  the  remarriage  of  a  woman 
justifiably  divorced,  but  to  the  present  writer  He 
appears  plainly  to  assert  that  the  man  who  marries 
an  innocent  divorced  woman  is  guilty  of  adultery, 
n  of  these  passaj^es  we  are  confronted 
■S3  ri'markahlc  variety.  St.  Matthew 
yii.ijiti^iu  l.\-  .jiv  i,i._r  a  place  in  Jesus' 


liffers  from  the  other  two  S, 
teaching  to  an  implied  ^i 
alone  includes  the 


(live 


(532) 
le  records  of 
Ity,  doctrinal 


urse,  without  that  fonr 


Jesus'  words  which  h.as  intnn  li 
and  legislative,  into  the  quchtii 
of  divorced  persons.  We  are  n 
of  conjectural  criticism  which  would  delete  these  clauses 
mere  glosses  or  unsuitahle  interpolations  (see  Bacon,  The  Ser- 
tnon  on  the  Mounts  ad  loc.).  In  the  ahsence,  however,  of 
external  or  textual  evidence  we  are  not  entitled  to  invent 
textual  emendations  in  the  interests  of  a  preconceived  theory 
(cf.  Wright,  Sj/nopsil  of  the  Gonpels  in  Greek,  p.  98  f.).  It  is 
but  fair  to  add  that  the  Codex  Vatican  us  (B)  and  some  less  im- 
V^nAUt  authorities  manifest  a  strong  desire  to  make  Mt  199 
CCnform  If  terally  to  Mt  S32,  and  thereby  create  some  uncertainty 
asto  t>v^  tl  itual  purity  of  these  passages.  The  evidential  value, 
hovever,  f  i  these  variations  is  too  slight  to  be  of  any  avail 
agoinst  tl^e  unanimity  of  all  our  other  witnesses;  they  are 
traisparflint  and  later  attemi>ts  at  assimilation  or  harmony. 
IhearaMmenttim  e  silentio  is  in  this  case  too  strong  to  admit 
the  vufidity  of  conjecture.  A  forcible  statement  of  the  other 
Bide  of  the  case  may  be  found  in  the  art.  'Sermon  on  the 
Mount'  (Votaw)  in  the  Extra  Vol  of  Hastings'  DB  p.  27. 

At  all  periods  of  the  history  of  Christian  teach- 
ing, differences  of  opinion  have  existed  within  the 
Church  as  to  the  practical  application  of  Jesus' 
words  concerning  adultery,  divorce,  and  remar- 
riage. These  ditt'erences  have  been  stereotyped  in 
the  Eastern  and  Western  branches  of  the  Catlmlir 
Church.  The  former  takes  the  more  lenient  view, 
and  permits  the  remarriage  of  the  innocent 
div(n-ci(c),  while  the  latter  has  always  maintained 
the  more  stringent  and  (shall  we  say?)  the  more 
strictly  literal  conclusion  from  Jesus' words,  that 
inequality  of  treatment  is  not  to  be  tolerated,  in- 
terpreting the  conclusion  by  refusing  the  right  of 
remarriage  to  either  during  the  life  of  the  other. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  general  consensus  of 
theological  opinion  amongst  English  -  sjieaking 
divines  since  the  Reformation  has  leaned  towards 
the  view  held  by  the  Eastern  Church,  and  the 
resolutions  of  the  bishops  in  the  Pan-Anglican 
Conference  of  1888  on  this  subject  were  but  the 


formal  expressions  of  a  traditional  mode  of  inter- 
pretation. When  we  turn  from  the  words  of  Jesus 
to  see  what  were  the  ideas  of  those  who  taught  in 
His  name  during  the  ages  immediately  subsequent, 
we  have  St.  Paul's  teaching  on,  and  references  to, 
the  question  of  divorce.  In  one  place  he  treats 
marriage  as  indissoluble,  and  he  has  no  hesitation 
in  saying  that  the  woman  who  marries  another 
man  durmg  the  lifetime  of  her  husband  is  guilty 
of  adultery  (Ro  7'"').  On  the  other  hand,  we  must 
not  forget  that  the  Apostle  in  this  place  is  dealing 
with  the  Jewish  law  and  with  Jews  who  did  not 
admit  the  absolute  indissolubility  of  the  marriage 
tie.  The  fact  that  he  has  made  no  reference  to 
this  Jewish  law  of  divorce  forbids  us  drawing  any 
certain  conclusion  as  to  the  length  St.  Paul  was 
willing  to  go  in  stating  a  universal  principle  which 
would  guide  the  legislative  activity  of  the  Chris- 
tian Church.  In  another  place  he  sjieaks  of  separa- 
tion as  the  possible  outcome  of  an  unhappy  or 
unequal  marriage,  and  gives  permission,  if  not 
encouragement,  to  that  contingent  result  (x^pi- 
f^crSw).  In  this  he  goes  farther  than  Jesus,  so  far 
as  we  have  His  teaching  recorded  for  us,  went. 
According  to  Jesus,  adultery  is  the  only  crime  of 
sufficient  enormity  to  warrant  divorce ;  according 
to  St.  Paul,  the  law  of  marriage  does  not  govern 
the  deserted  wife  or  husband  (oi-  Ofooi'/Xurai  6  d.5e\<p6s 

rj   1}   dSeXipij   fV    this    l-onJl'TrJi';,     1   ( 'd    7''    [cf.     NeWmaU 

Smyth,  Chi-isfin,,  Ethi,K\  p.  4lL'f.  and  note]). 

The  ShcphrnI  ..I  lien, us  [M.rml.  iv.  1.  6)  lays 
down  the  rule  Ih.ii  aihihery  deniaiuls  separation 
or  divorce  (dTroXiwarw  aiir-qv),  because  by  continuing 
to  live  with  his  wife  after  she  has  been  convicted 
of  guilt,  the  husband  becomes  'an  accomplice  in 
her  adultery.'  On  the  other  hand,  he  is  equally 
insistent  that  tlie  man  thus  wronged  must  not 
marry  another,  lest  he  cut  his  guilty  partner  off 
from  the  hope  of  repentance,  and  lest  he  involve 
himself  likewise  in  the  sin  of  adultery  (iav  5^ 
airoKvaa^  Trjv  yvvaiKa  (Tipav  yafiriffri,  Kai  ailrJi 
IMOixarat). 

Amongst  the  number  of  those  who  are  debarred 
from  inheriting  the  kingdom  of  God,  St.  Paul  men- 
tions fornicators  and  adulterers  {irSpvoi  Kai  m<"Xo') 
1  Co  6» ;  cf.  Eph  55,  1  Ti  l'»,  He  ISS  Rev  •21,8  22'=). 

The  universal  conclusion  is  that  this  sin  creates 
a  breach  of  the  marriage  relation  so  grave  and  far- 
reachin"  that  it  makes  divorce  the  only  legitimate 
sequel — divorce  a  mcnsd  et  thoro.  The  question, 
however,  remains  whether  the  Christian  Church 
has  the  right  to  go  farther  and  say  that,  as  the 
result  of  an  adulterous  act,  the  aggrieved  party 
has  a  just  claim  to  divorce  a  vinculo  ;  has  a  right, 
that  is  to  say,  to  be  placed  in  a  position  as  if  the 
marriage  had  never  taken  place.  This  will,  no 
doubt,  be  answered  ditterently  by  dift'erent  minds, 
and  the  difficulty  is  not  decreased  by  merely 
appealing  to  the  authority  of  Jesus.  Different 
answers  are  given  to  the  more  fundamental  ques- 
tions. Did  Jesus  intend  to  occupy  the  position  of 
legislator  when  He  spoke  of  adultery  and  divorce  ? 
(ir  wns  He  siniply  enunciating  a  general  principle, 
Ir,i\iim  fnliire  ueiierations  to  deal  with  social  con- 
(liliiiii,  .IS  (liry  ;iiiise'?  The  present  writer  has  no 
liesii.u  1(111  111  saying  that  his  own  opinion  leans 
strongly  to  the  side  of  those  who  believe  that 
Jesus  affirmed  solemnly  the  indissolubility  of  the 
marriage  tie,  and  that  He  meant  His  followers  to 
understand  that  the  remarriage  of  either  party 
during  the  life  of  the  other  constitutes  adultery. 
At  the  same  time  he  is  not  unaware  of  the  fact 
that  there  is  a  strong  body  of  sober  modern 
thought  which  tends  towards  a  relaxation  of  this 
view'  in    fa\..ui    ol    tlie    innocent   (see   Gore,    T/ic 

If  .le^iis  111  Ml  .1  -  1-  making  a  categoric;il 
statement    of     univeisal    application,    then    the 


32 


ADVENT 


ADVf:NT 


opinion,  given  by  the  present  -writer  as  liis  own, 
can  scarcely  be  disputed  ;  bnt  if  He  is  interpreted 
as  dealing  with  the  foundations  rather  than 
making  structural  alterations  in  the  ethical  beliefs 
of  His  countrymen,  we  must  conclude  that  He 
leaves  His  followers  to  deal  with  the  question  as  it 
arises.  In  the  latter  case  it  is,  of  course,  com- 
petent for  the  Church  in  each  age  to  treat  the 
question  dc  novo.  The  conditions  of  society  alter, 
and  what  constitutes  danger  to  the  social  welfare 
at  one  time,  may  have  comparatively  little  peril 
for  the  people  of  another  period.  At  the  same 
time  it  nmst  not  be  forgotten  that  the  tendency  of 
human  legislation  has  been  and  is  likely  to  be,  for 
some  time  to  come  at  least,  towards  the  loosening 
of  the  marriage  bond,  and  the  minimizing  of  the 
seriousness  of  that  guilt  by  which  men  uproot  the 
foundations  of  their  social  and  domestic  life. 

LiTERATiRK.-Xiwm.in  Smyth's  Cfirhtian  Ftlii.-s^  rontains  a 


subject 
I 'I  of  the 


latter  worl; 


'ThuTea.'! 


Jiilv  I'Jiil.     If.  ;i1n.  II.  .M.  Luckock'si(/6(u)-i/(i/JI/umayi;(Wa4), 
ami  (1.  1).  \Vatkiii,-i'  lluly  Matrimony  (\Sib). 

J.  R.  Willis. 
ADYENT."Tn  its  primary  application  tlie  term 
is  used  to  denote  the  first  visible  coming  of  Jesus 
into  the  world.  His  coming  again  at  an  after 
jieriod  is  distinguished  as  the  Second,  or  the  Final, 
Coming  (see  CoJllxi;  An 


The 


Parousia). 

''  one  of  the  ecclesias- 
-  the  Festival  of  the 
n  of  the  Church,  the 

.1  iipiiearanco  of  their 


Church  aervices  ia  renewed,  and  Un  i . .  ;.    i.    ;  ,,i  .  ^  .ir  begins. 

Dealing  here  specially  with  the  pniuary  his- 
torical  application,  the  first  coming  of  Jesus  po^ 
sesses  a  unique  significance  as  markinj;  the; 
entraucfe  into  the  world  of  a  moral  force  altogether 
unparalleled,  a  momentous  turning-point  in  the 
religious  progress  of  mankind.  As  the  Son  of  God 
(Mt  10"-,  Jn  3'^- "),  revealing  and  representing  Gotl 
ill  His  own  person  (Jn  5**  14'-"),  whose  mission  it 
was  I,,  re.lcfju  men  from  sin  (Mt  18",  Lk  4«  17-''), 
Ji'^ii^  \\.i>  tn  i.i(>\r  lliiiisrir  in  the  truest  sense  the 
Mi's>i:ili  \vh.,i]i  I  ho  Jewish  people  had  long  been 
expeetiui;,— '  a  Jiaviuur,  who  is  Christ  the  Lord' 
(Liv  2"). 

1.  Theforeshadoimng  Promise. — The  expectation 
entertained  by  the  Jews  had  its  roots  in  a  promise 
Ml  hull  1  111  th  n  I  nil  s|  litiiitnre  and  d  itmg 
li   I  I  il  I  \    1 1    I    I    uiial  dclnci  ukl 

111        ]  I  I  )      I     ih(    hum  m  latc  — 


111     I  I  I  I  IN  1 1         jit(  ncc  pii 

c  II  Lh  III  j|  1(1  thillhi  sei  d  iil  I  he  woni  in  should 
bruise  his  hi  id  (t.n  !'■')  1  his  buglitei  outlook 
foi  fallen  liiiiiiinit\   was  eonlirmed  liy  the  assui 


and  the  nation's  fortunes  became  embarrassed,  the 
splendours  of  David's  time,  glorified  by  the  halo 
Avliich  memory  and  distance  cast  around  them, 
were  projected  into  the  future,  forming  a  picture 
full  ot  allurement  and  charm.  It  fired  the  imagi- 
nation of  the  prophets  amid  the  troubles  of  the 
later  monarchy. 

The  promise,  as  thus  transformed,  was  that  of  a 
king,  or  line  of  kings,  sprung  from  David's  house, 
who,  endowed  with  transcendent  gifts,  and  acting 
by  special  authority  as  the  Anointed  of  the  Lord, 
should  reign  in  righteousness,  introduce  an  era  of 
Divine  salvation  for  Israel,  and  draw  all  other 
nations  round  them  in  loyalty  to  Jehovah's  law 
(Is  2-  1 1^"  27",  Mic  41-').  this  was  the  blossoming 
out  of  the  Messianic  idea. 

During  the  period  of  the  Exile,  with  the  fall  of 
the  monarchy  and  the  collapse  of  the  expectations 
liased  upon  it,  the  figure  of  the  victorious  and 
righteous  king  was  thrown  into  the  background  ; 
yet  the  prospect  of  a  future  glorious  manifestation 
of  Divine  mercy,  rescuing  the  people  from  their 
iniquities  and  miseries,  kept  its  hold  on  suscep- 
tible minds  (Is  55^  CU''').  It  was  in  this  period  that 
the  distinctively  s]iivilual  ehaiacter  of  the  coming 
deliverance  emei-ri I  iulo  piominence.  As  deline- 
ated in  Ezekiel  mhI  IIh'  S.  r.mil  Isaiah,  it  was  to 
consist  in  an  iiiw.inl  nj^eiui.ition,  wrought  by 
penitence  and  the  iinjiartation  of  a  new  spirit  and 
a  new  heart  (Is  65«-',  Ezk  ll"'-='"  36=5-»).  In  those 
prophecies  of  the  Exile,  Jehovah  Himself  is  set 
forth  as  the  true  and  ever-living  King  of  Israel ; 
and  collective  Israel,  the  nation  regarded  poetic- 
ally as  an  individual,  is  conceived  as  the  Anointed 
Servant  of  Jehovah,  who,  amid  manifold  afflic- 
tions, is  to  bear  witness  for  Jehovah,  and  be  the 
medium  of  accomplishing  His  saving  purpose  for 
mankind.  On  the  return  from  the  Exile  the  hope 
of  salvation  through  a  Davidic  kingship  revived, 
as  is  evident  fnnii  (lu;  piuplietic  utterances  of 
Haggai(2==-'-")an.l  Z,,  li.n  i,,ln:i»  G'=) ;  but  in  Mala- 
chi'sday  it  bad  a-:iiii  .ri-,i|i|i.:ned. 

WitlithelSIaeealM  ail  si iiiu.i^le against  Antiochus 
Epiphanes(l!.c.  ItiV  Ki.'i)  the  Messianic  idea  entered 
on  a  fresh  eourso  of  development.  In  the  Book  of 
Daniel,  whieli  dates  inesuiiialily  from  that  time, 
we  liuil  suiieriiatuial  eleiiieiits  more  freely  intro- 
diueil.  The  writer  in  vision  beholds  an  ancient 
of  days,  seated  on  his  throne  to  judge  the  great 
world- kiii.uiloiiis  and  their  rulers.  Before  him 
^  with  the  eluuds  of  heavei>.,-''or.e 
of  man,'  and  to  him  is  giv'"ii  evir- 
lasting  dominion  and  a  kiiiLsikim  which  jaiall  lot 
be  destroyed  (7'^-  ").  This  doiiiiiiioii  is  pa.sk,eil  o-er 
to  'the  saints  of  the  Most  Hi^h,'  to  be  theJi.s  for 
ever  and  ever  (7'^").  There  is  thus  a  picturo  of 
the  Messianic  future  in  which  the  triumph  and 
the  dis- 


t^\ 


lie  of  the  godlv  over  the  nations 
tnipUishing  ft  if 
^\e  look  in  Ml 


fuitli 


ton 


mil 


co\enintwith    (elio\  ill    i     II        1  l'       ' 

20-24)     It  «asnot,  howi  \  II       1       | 

reign,  with  its  ieKi},nitioM  |  ill 

the  name  of   Ithovah,  li  1 1  1  I      1   I      I        tl 

idea  of  the  tliioti  itic  kiiu  hqi  liil  lien  iln-jK 
implanted  111  the  national  tonsciousness,  that  thi 
(onitiition  of  the  blessing  to  be  looked  foi  took 
deliuitc  sliipe      llicn,  as  succL>)si\e  luleis.  failed 


ADVENT 


33 


(ITasf),  and  bring  to  an  end  all  unn,  1  I  1      ) 

In  those  Apocalyptic  wiitm.,'!  pot  iil  n  to 

the  spiritual  content  of  tlie  Mtbbiani     I  lui^ 

the  supernatural  elements  tli(_\  s    I  tliiow 

best  of  the  prophets  haF  ir  iiillj  bound  up 

\vith  the  great  period  of  1 1  liile  the  scope  of 

the  ancient  promise  is  \m  1  I  lonal  and  tem 

poral  limitations  to  embi a     i  i    i       I    I     litttocome 

Meanwhile  the  sciibcs  wi  u  at  \\oik,  hardening 
the  Messianic  itlea  into  scholastic  toiin,  and  re 
ducing  the  poetic  hanouage  and  bold  imagery  of 
the  prophets  to  dogmatic  statements  and  literal 
details,  with  the  result,  on  the  vhole,  of  a  restora- 
tion of  the  theocratic  idea  that  God  was  to  vindi- 
cate His  authority  as  the  true  Sovereign  of  the 
nation,  and  to  send  His  vicegerent  in  the  line  of 
David  to  establish  His  law  and  introduce  the  rule 
of  righteousness  under  His  anointed  King. 

Such  was  the  form  wliieli  the  long-cherished  hope 
had  assumed  when  Jesus  appeared.  It  was  largely 
mixed  up  with  expectations  of  political  deliver- 
ance, yet  the  thoughts  of  many  earnest  spirits 
were  centred  mainly  on  the  prospect  of  a  spiritual 
emancipation  for  Israel.  He  came  to  meet  the 
great  hope  by  fulfilling  in  their  ideal  and  spiritual 
significance  the  prophecies  that  had  kindled  and 
kept  it  alive.  Leaving  aside  the  merely  earthly, 
time-coloured  features  that  bulked  so  largely  in 
the  popular  imagination.  He  entered  the  world  to 
ofler  Himself  as  the  true  representative  of  God, 
in  and  through  whom  all  tliat  was  eternal  and 
most  precious  in  the  Messianic  idea  was  destined 
to  be  realized.    See  art.  Messiah. 

2.  The  state  of  Religion  at  the  date  of  Christ's 
Advent.— \n  many  respects  the  way  had  been  pre- 
pared for  the  appearance  of  Jesus  and  the  spread 
of  His  influence  a.s  Messiah  and  Saviour.  There 
were  national,  political,  social,  and  other  con- 
ditions e.xisting  in  the  world  at  the  time,  which 
rendered  His  coming  and  work  singularly  oppor- 
tune (see  Fulness  of  Time);  but  here  we  are 
si)ecially  concerned  with  the  prevailing  aspects  of 
religious  life  in  the  immediate  scene  in  wliich  He 
appeared.  Undoubtedly,  among  the  Jewish  pieople 
at  that  period  religion  was  a  dominating  interest, 
and  was  based  on  principles  far  liiglier  than  any 
that  obtained  in  other  nations.  Yet  its  quality 
was  vitiated  by  certain  serious  defects.  There 
was — 

(1)  Its  partisanship.  Scribes  and  Pharisees  on 
the  one  hand,  and  Sadducees  on  the  other,  stood 
in  mutual  antagonism,  striving  for  ascendency  as 
leaders  of  national  religious  feeling, — the  scribes 
and  Pharisees  combining  to  enforce  the  mass  of 
stringent  precepts  which  the  formn  lia.l  elaborated 
to  supplement  the  original  wril I ni  wni.l  ;  the  Sad- 
ducees entirely  rejecting  those  [him  .■!,(>,  and  con- 
tending that  the  Law  as  written  was  suflicient, 
and  that  the  observance  of  the  temijle  ordinances, 
its  worship  and  saerilices,  was  the  central  element 
in  religion.  The  controversies  that  arose  o\'er  those 
points  of  difference,  and  over  the  doctrine  of  the 
resurrection,  created  a  fierce  party  spirit,  bitter 
anil  bigoted  on  the  one  side,  haughty  and  con- 
temptuous on  the  other,  while  the  smaller  sect  of 
the  Essenes,  with  their  extremist  views  and  rigid 
austerity,  maintained  an  inflexible  protest  against 
both  these  classes  of  religionists. 

(2)  Then  there  was  its  legalism.  By  their  in- 
sistence on  conformity  to  the  regulations  they  had 
added  to  the  Law  as  a  condition  of  Divine  favom-, 
the  scribes  and  Pharisees,  who  were  the  most 
numerous  and  aggressive  party,  converted  religion 
itself  into  a  matter  of  slavish  obedience,  in  which 
the  instigating  motives  were  the  hope  of  reward 
and  the  fear  of  punishment.  The  calculating  temper 
thus  engendered  rendered  the  religious  life  a  task- 
work of  anxious  scrupulosity  and  constraint,  wanl- 

VOL.  I.  — 1 


ing  in  spontaneous  action  from  the  higher  impulses 
(d'  the  soul ;  while  in  the  case  of  those  less  sincere 
it  introduced  an  element  of  prudential  self-regard 
concerned  only  with  the  prospect  of  future  benefit 
and  safety. 

(3)  Closely  allied  to  this  was  the  extemalization 
of  piety.  The  Rabbinical  regulations  were  held  to 
be  so  binding,  and  their  multiplicity  was  so  great, 
that  the  etibrt  to  observe  them  inevitably  involved 
a  machine-like  routine  and  formality.  The  Jew- 
in  his  fulfilment  of  tlie  Law  found  himself  at  every 
turn  brought  under  the  pressure  of  hard  and  fast 
exacting  rules,— in  his  food,  his  clothes,  his  daily 
occupations,  his  devotions,  and  the  smallest  acts  of 
his  life.  The  endeavour  to  yield  obedience  under 
such  circumstances  necessarily  led  to  a  laborious 
outward  punctiliousness ;  a  tendency  to  ostenta- 
tion and  spiritual  pride  was  fostered  ;  and  many 
were  ensnared  into  hypocrisy  by  finding  they  could 
obtain  a  reputation  for  exceptional  piety  by  an 
obtrusive  parade  of  their  ceremonial  performances. 
The  most  precise  minuteness  was  observed  in  trifles, 
the  tithing  of  mint  and  cummin,  but  in  matters 
of  greater  import  the  principles  of  morality  were 
surrendered. 

These  are  the  darker  shades  of  the  picture. 
Nevertheless,  it  is  clear  that  a  very  considerable 
measure  of  religious  earnestness  was  preserved  in 
the  nation.  It  was  fed  by  the  ancient  Scriptures, 
which  were  regularly  read  in  the  synagogues  and 
committed  to  memory  in  the  synagogue  schools. 
Thus  in  the  body  of  the  people  there  was  kept 
alive  a  sense  of  the  holy  character  and  mighty 
doings  of  Jehovah ;  and  although,  owing  to  the 
decayed  influence  of  the  priesthood,  the  Temple 
itself  was  not  a  centre  of  spiritual  life,  yet  the 
hallowed  memories  it  recalled  in  the  breasts  of  the 
multitudes  assembled  at  the  religious  festivals 
were  calculated  to  inspire  the  higher  emotions. 
At  all  events,  there  is  evidence  enough  to  show 
that  many  hearts  throughout  the  nation  were 
imbued  with  a  deep-seated  reverence  for  God  and 
a  true  spiritual  longing  for  the  hope  of  Israel. 
The  soul  of  religion  might  be  sadly  crushed  by 
legalitj'  and  formalism,  but  it  was  not  utterly 
dead.  Devout  men  and  women  in  varied  ranks  of 
society  were  holding  a  \m\e  faith  and  leading 
lives  of  simple  sincerity,  vaguely  dissatisfied  Avith 
the  bondage  of  legal  oliser\anees  and  Kabbinical 
rules,  and  yearning  to  rise  into  a  more  spiritual 
atmosphere,  a  closer  communion  with  the  Divine 
mind  and  will.  Of  these  Zacharias  and  Elisabeth 
(Lk  P-*"),  Anna  (2^"-^'),  and  the  aged  Simeon  (2^) 
may  be  taken  as  examples ;  while  the  numbers 
who  responded  to  the  living  preaching  of  John  the 
Baptist  and  became  his  followers  are  an  index  of 
the  extent  to  which  genuine  piety  survived  in  the 
land.  It  was  amongst  such  that  the  spiritual  pre- 
paration was  found  for  the  recognition  and  welcome 
of  the  promised  Saviour  when  He  appeared.  The 
coming  of  Jesus  brought  the  birth  of  a  new  spirit 
in  religion,  a  spirit  of  fresh  vitality  and  power; 
and  the  life  of  absolute  devotion  to  righteousness 
which  He  began  to  live,  and  which  He  was  ulti- 
mately to  close  in  a  death  of  sacrificing  love,  infused 
into  religion  an  inspiring  energy  destined  on  a  scale 
of  vast  magnitude  to  regenerate  and  redeem. 

3.  The  national  unrrst  of  the  pc7-iod.— The  Jewish 
people,  fretting  under  political  depression,  bad 
flung  themselves  with  impassioned  eagerness  on 
the  hope  that  the  long-desired  Messiah  and  His 
kingdom  must  be  drawing  nigh.  It  was  even 
thought  by  many  that  He  was  hidden  somewhere 
in  oliscurity,  only  waiting  for  a  more  penitent  dis- 
position in  tlie  national  mind;  and  so  inflamed  was 
the  cc.ninji.n  imagination  with  these  ideas,  that 
popul.ir  e\ei lenient  was  easily  aroused,  and  any 
bold  spirit,   rising  in  revolt  against  the  existing 


34 


ADVERSARY 


ADVOCATE 


state  of  things,  could  find  a  gronp  of  followers 
ready  to  believe  in  him  as  the  one  vho  should 
deliver  Israel.  In  the  broader  world  outside,  too, 
the  expectation  of  a  powerful  king,  issuing  from 
Judsea,  who  was  to  conquer  the  world,  appears  to 
have  been  widely  spread ;  and  the  references  to 
this  given  by  Tacitus  (Hist.  v.  13)  and  by  Suetonius 
( Vesp.  4)  may  be  taken  at  least  as  an  echo  of  views 
disseminated  throughout  the  Roman  Empire  by 
the  Jews  of  the  Dispersion.  When  Jesus  was  born 
into  the  world,  however,  an  event  had  transpired 
vastly  grander  than  Jewish  expectation  at  the 
time  conceived.  The  day  at  last  had  dawned  to 
which  the  original  promise  to  fallen  humanity 
pointed  forward,  and  for  which  the  best  minds  of 
the  nation  had  for  ages  yearned  ;  the  divinely- 
pledged  Deliverer  from  sin  and  its  curse  had  ar 
ii\ed,  to  set  up  the  kingdom  of  righteousness,  lo\e, 
and  peace 
Liter  \Ti  re  —For  a  lenpthened  treatment  of  the  Afoc';  ini 


tinn  (f  (t  M  Km  id  m  (Eng  tr  )  and  for  a  more  condensed 
sune\  Schurer  HJPw  u  and  Sthultz,  Or  rAro(  (Ene  tr 
lb9s)\ol  n  For  the  Apoca]\  ptic  n  ritmss  seeCh-vrles  editions 
of  tilt  /•    S     f  Fn  l}    et       On  thi  lel      in    cinJitiii    f  the 


C.    M  IlARD-i 

ADVERSARY.— In  the  Gospels  the  -snouI  'ad^el- 
saiy'  stands  t^MCe  (Lk  13"  21")  for  avriKelnevo^, 
and  thnce  (Mt  5==,  Lk  12=«  IS-*)  for  ai/riStkos.  The 
first  two  passages  require  no  comment,  as  tliey 
describe  the  opponents  of  the  gospel  in  the  simples't 
terms,  as  adversaries.  Thus  we  read  that  when 
Jesus  triumphantly  vindicated  His  actions,  His 
adversaries  were  ashamed  and  could  not  uiisw.  i 
Him.  Similarly  Jesus  assured  His  discijili^  th.it 
none  of  their  adversaries  in  the  approaching  tiim' 
of  persecution  should  be  able  to  gainsay  or  resist 
the  words  of  wisdom  which  the  Holy  Sjiuit  would 
put  into  their  mouths. 

In  Mt  5^  (!l  Lk  12^),  and  again  in  the  ]iaralile  of 
the  Unjust  Judge  (Lk  18'),  the  quL-timi  miu-.-1s 
itself,  'Who  is  the  adversary  rffrii..l  lu  I  hr 
passage  from  the  Sermon  on  the -^I'lunt  .c-in-  a- 
one  of  a  series  of  maxims  of  Christian  |iuil.iicr. 
and  the  key  to  its  interpretation  is  sugj;e>ti  il  liy 
that  which  immediately  precedes  it  (Mt  5^' ),  a\  IniV 
Christ  says  that  reconciliation  with  an  ollLinkd 
brother  must  go  before  the  offering  of  a  gift  at 
God's  altar. 

Alienation  from  the  brother  offended  must  oper- 
ate as  a  hindrance  to  true  worship.  Therefore  he 
who  would  be  accepted  of  God  must  do  justly  by 
his  brother  and  have  all  cause  of  difference  "with 
him  removed,  for  if  he  regards  iniquity  in  his 
heart,  has  upon  his  conscience  the  guilt  of  wrong- 
doing or  ill-will,  or  a  grudge,  the  Lord  will  not 
hear  him  (Ps  66'*).  Thus  a  certain  order  must 
be  observed  in  connexion  with  this  matter  of  wor- 
ship. Still  more,  Jesus  appears  to  suggest,  does 
this  principle  of  order  hold  in  respect  of  the  con- 
troversy between  God  and  sinners.  Reconciliation 
with  God  must  be  for  every  man  the  first  business 
to  be  attended  to.  That  antagonism  must  be  re- 
moved, and  he  must  satisfy  the  claim  which  the 
law  of  God  lias  against  him  in  the  first  place,  else 
if  he  fails  to  avail  himself  of  the  present  oppor- 
tunity of  ending  the  controversy,  the  law  must 
take  its  course.  The  adversary  referred  to  is  thus 
the  broken  law,  or  God  Himself  as  the  Author  of 
the  law,  whom  the  unreconciled  sinner  treats  as  an 
adversary  (ef.  Lk  14^"-). 

In  the  parable  of  the  Unjust  Judge  the  widow's 


Teaching  of  Christ ; 
Schmid,  Biblical   77, 
XT  Theology  (2w\  I 
der  neutest.  The,,' 
u.  61;  Wernle,  27..  i 


petition  against  her  opponent  at  law,  and  her  im- 
portunity in  pressing  it  upon  the  attention  of  the 
judge,  are  used  to  illustrate  the  prayers  of  God's 
elect.  The  reference  seems  to  be  to  the  opposition 
which,  in  her  efforts  to  promote  the  cause  and 
kingdom  of  God,  the  Church  is  obliged  to  en- 
counter, some  adverse  influence  to  which  she  lias 
long  been  exposed,  and  against  which  she  fears 
she  is  left  to  struggle  alone.  Here  there  is  no 
special  reason  for  identifying  this  adversary  with 
Satan  (cf.  Alford,  in  loc.  ;  Trench,  Parables,  488, 
etc.)  or  with  the  Jewish  persecutors  of  the  Early 
Church  (Weizsacker,  who  regards  the  jiassage  as  a 
late  addition ;  cf.  Weiss  in  Sleyer's  Commentary, 
in  loc. ).  We  must  not  forget  that  tlie  word  occurs 
in  a  parable  which  was  spoken  with  a  special 
didactic  purpose,  that  being,  as  St.  Luke  is  careful 
to  explain,  the  encouragement  not  of  the  Church 
only,  but  especially  of  individual  believers,  to  per- 
severe in  their  efforts  by  faith  and  prayer  to  with- 
stand the  power  of  evil  in  the  world,  in  whatever 
form  it  may  assail  them  or  thwart  their  endeav- 
ours. Christ's  object  was  to  assure  them  that 
their  importunity  must  prevail  with  God,  who 
shall  soon  respond  to  their  prayers  and  grant  them 
the  victory  over  all  that  would  frustrate  their 
efforts  for  the  advancement  of  His  cause.  See 
also  art.  Satan. 

the  Parables ;  Bruce,  The  Parabolic 

nini.  of  .Meyer,  Alford,  Bengel,  etc.; 

w  "./  '/■    .\ /',  p.   175ff. ;  Beyschlag, 

,  11,  . I.  Holtzmann,  ZeArfrucA 

,    \\  ■  i:^*acker.  Apostolic  Age, 

I       riitianity,i.76B. 

H.  H.  CURRIE. 

ADVOCATE  (TapdKXrrros).  —  A  term  applied  to 
Christ  in  1  Jn  2'  (AV  and  RV ;  RVm  'Or  Coth- 
fortcr  ox  Helper,  Gr.  Paraclete'),  and  to  the  Holy 
Spirit  in  RVm  of  Jn  14'«-  ''^  15=«  16',  where  both  AV 
and  RV  have  'Comforter'  in  the  text.  For  an 
fx  am  illation  of  the  Greek  word  and  its  cognates, 
see  art.  '  Paraclete '  in  Hastings'  DB  iii.  665- 
668.  The  verb  TrapaKoX^u  occurs  in  the  papyri  in 
the  contrasted  senses  of  'encourage'  {Oxyr.  Pap. 
663.  42)  and  of  'entreat'  (ib.  744.  6);  but  the 
passive  verbal  form  has  not  been  found.  The 
term  in  its  Latinized  form  came  originally  from 
the  Itala  or  one  of  the  Old  Latin  versions  through 
the  Vulgate.  And  Wyclif  introduced  it  into  the 
English  versions,  translating  1  Jn  2'  'we  han 
avoket'  in  1382  ;  so  Purvey  'an  aduooat'  in  1388.^ 

Etymologically  the  word  means  '  called  to  one's 
hide,'  especially  for  the  purposes  of  help,  and,  in  its 
technical  usage,  for  advice  in  the  case  of  judicial 
procedure,  with  the  further  suggestion  of  en- 
deavouring to  enlist  the  sympathy  of  the  judge 
in  favour  of  the  accused.  In  1  Jn  2'  the  last  is 
generally  taken  to  be  the  only  sense  ;  and  the 
meaning  evidently  is  that,  if  any  believer  sin, 
Jesus  Christ  in  person  intercedes  in  his  behalf 
with  the  Father,  and,  representing  the  believer, 
carries  on  his  cause  in  the  courts  of  heaven.  Simi- 
larly, according  to  the  passage  in  the  Fourth 
Gospel,  the  Holy  Spirit  may  be  regarded  as  God's 
Advocate  both  with  and  in  man,  promoting  the 
Divine  interests  in  the  human  sphere,  from  re- 
pentance (Jn  16'-",  cf.  Job  33"-3-*')  to  perfecting 
But  here  the  technical  legal  sense  of  the  word 
disappears,  and  the  Spirit  becomes,  according  to 
another  marginal  rendering,  the  God-sent '  Helper ' 
of  a  man  who  is  struggling  against  everything 
within  or  around  him  that  makes  godly  living 
difficult.  Whilst,  therefore,  the  provisions  of 
grace  include  the  twofold  advocacy,  —  Christ  as 
the  Advocate  of  a  believer  with  God,  and  the 
Spirit  as  the  Advocate  of  God  with  man,  whether 
believing  or  unregenerate,  —  the  two  functions 
differ  both  in  range  and  in  relation  ;  and  the  term 


^.NON 


AFFLICTION 


'Advocate'  is  too  specialized  to  characterize  or 
to  cover  the  operations  attributed  to  the  Spirit. 
The  Spirit,  as  an  Advocate  sent  from  God,  entreats 
and  helps  a  man  (see  art.  Comforter),  but  does 
not  represent  him  before  God  as  Judge  or  as 
Father,  and  does  not  appeal  to  anything  in  man  of 
final  and  supreme  authority.  K.  W.  Moss. 


'springs').— Mentioned  only  in  Jn  3^  'And  John 
also  was  baptizing  in  yEnon  near  to  Salim,  because 
there  were  many  waters  there '  (RVm).  The  place 
cannot  be  identified  with  certainty.  Four  sites 
have  been  proposed,  two  in  Samaria  and  two  in 
Judsea. 

1.  Eusebius  and  Jerome  (Onojnast.'  229.  91,  99. 
25)  place  jEnon  in  the  Jordan  Valley,  8  miles 
south  of  Scythopolis  (Beis&n),  'juxta  Salem  et 
Jordaneni.'  About  7  miles  south  of  Beisan  and 
2  miles  west  of  the  Jordan  there  are  seven  springs, 
all  lying  within  a  radius  of  a  quarter  of  a  mile, 
and  numerous  rivulets.  Three-quarters  of  a  mile 
to  the  north  of  these  springs  van  de  Velde  found 
a  tomb  bearing  the  name  of  Sheikh  Salim.  But 
the  fact  that  a  modern  sheikh  bore  the  name  Salim 
is  far  from  satisfactory  proof  that  the  Salim.  of 
our  narrative  was  at  this  place.  If  we  are  to  find 
Salim  in  Samaria  at  all,  does  not  the  mention  of  it 
as  a  well-known  place  .suggest  the  well-known 
Salim  4  miles  east  of  Shechem  ?  And  would  it  not 
be  gratuitous  for  the  Evangelist  to  say  of  a  place 
so  near  the  Jordan  that  there  was  much  water 
there?  But,  in  spite  of  the.se  objections,  Sanday 
(Sacred  Sites  of  the  Gospels,  p.  36)  and  others  still 
think  this  site  has  the  best  claim. 

2.  Tristram  {Bible  Places,  p.  234)  and  Conder 
{Tent  Wm-k  in  Palestine,  i.  pp.  91-93)  place  /Enon 
at  'Ainun  on  a  hill  near  the  head  of  the  great 
Far'ah  valley,  the  open  highway  from  the  Damieh 
ford  of  the  Jordan  to  Shecliem.  Four  miles  south- 
west of  the  village  of  'Ainun,  in  the  Wady  Far'ah, 
is  a  succession  of  springs,  yielding  a  copious  per- 
ennial stream,  -with  flat  meadows  on  either  side, 
where  great  crowds  might  gather.  Three  miles 
south  of  the  valley  (7  miles  from  'Ainun)  stands 
Salim.  Conder  .says  :  '  The  site  of  Wady  Far'ah 
is  the  only  one  where  all  the  requisites  are  met — 
the  two  names,  the  fine  water  supply,  the  proximity 
of  the  desert,  and  the  open  character  of  tlie^romul.' 
The  situation  is  a  central  one  also,  accessible  by 
roads  from  all  quarters,  and  it  agrees  well  with 
the  new  identification  of  Bethabara.  But  (n) 
'Ainun  is  not  '  near  to  Salim,'  the  two  places  being 
7  miles  apart,  and  separated  by  the  great  Wady 
Far'ah.  (b)  There  is  not  a  drop  of  water  at  'Ainun 
(Robinson,  Bib.  Bes.  iii.  305).  (c)  It  is  not  likely 
that  John  the  Baptist  was  labouring  among  the 
Samaritans,  with  whom  the  Jews  had  no  dealings 
(cf.  Mt  3'  10=).  {d)  It  appears  that  both  Jesus  aiid 
John  were  baptizing  in  Judaja  (Jn  3---  »),  and  their 
proximity  gave  occasion  to  the  remarks  referred 
to  in  Jn  S^,  and  that  Jesus  left  Judtea  for  Galilee 
with  the  intention  of  getting  out  of  the  neighbour- 
hood of  Jolm  and  removing  the  appearance  of 
rivalry  (Jn  4').  But  if  yEnon  was  in  Samaria, 
Jesus  was  nearer  Jolm  than  before. 

3.  Ewald  and  Hengstenberg  prefer  Shilhim 
(LXX  2e\ec//i)  in  the  extreme  soutli  of  Judiea, 
mentioned  (Jus  15'=)  in  connexion  with  Ain.  Godet 
says  (If  n,!  .Ill  jivrii  for  John's  baptizing  in  yEnon 
would  I  :,  I  :  lorce  as  applied  to  a  generally 
^^'at'ii  i,l,,-  the  southern  extremity  of 
Jutlali  il,  :  i:  I  ,  :,  I. 'lence  Were  to  a  Well-Watered 
distnci  Ilk,.  SiiMiiKi.  But  elsewhere  (Jos  19", 
1  Cli  4'-,  Nrli  I  1   ')  Aiu  is  connected  with  Kimmon 


Wadij 


•  as  a  Juda>an  site  for  yEnon 
secluded    valley    with    copioi 


springs  about  6  miles  north-east  of  Jerusalem 
(quite  different,  of  course,  from  the  great  Wady 
FAr'ah  of  Samaria).  This  is  the  view  adopted  by 
Professor  Konrad  Furrer  in  his  article  on  the 
geographical  allusions  in  the  Gospel  of  St.  John  in 
the  ZNTW,  1902,  Heft  4,  p.  258.  The  suggestion 
is  not  new.  It  was  put  forward  nearly  fifty 
years  ago  by  Barclay  {City  of  the  Great  King, 
pp.  558-570),  but  has  never  received  the  atten- 
tion it  deserves.  Barclay  says  that  'of  all  the 
fountains  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Jerusalem,  the 
most  copious  and  interesting  by  far  are  those  that 
burst  forth  within  a  short  distance  of  each  other 
in  Wady  Far'ah.'  He  quotes  the  following  descrip- 
tion from  The  History  of  the  Jerusalem  Mission  :— 

'  From  the  brow  at  Wady  Fiir'ah  we  descended  with  some 
difficulty  into  that  "  Valley  of  Delight,"— for  such  is  the  literal 
signification  of  its  n.ame,— and  truly  I  have  seen  nothing  so 
delightful  in  the  way  of  natural  scenery,  norinviting  in  pointof 
resources,  etc.,  in  all  Palestine.  Ascending  its  bold  stream  from 
this  point,  we  passed  some  half-dozen  expansions  of  thestreani, 
constituting  the  most  beautiful  natural  natatona  I  have  ever 
seen  ;  the  water,  rivalling  the  atmosphere  itpelf  in  transparency, 
of  depth  varying  from  a  few  inches  to  a  fathom  or  more,  shaded 
on  one  or  both  sides  by  umbrageous  fig-trees,  and  sometimes 
contained  in  naturally-excavated  basins  of  red  mottled  marble 
— an  occasional  variegation  of  the  common  limestone  of  the 
country.  These  pools  are  supplied  by  some  half-dozen  springs 
of  the  purest  and  coldest  water,  bursting  from  rocky  crevices  at 
various  intervals.  Verily,  tlinu^'lit  I.  we  ha\e  stumbled  upon 
Enon  !  .  .  .  Portions  of  ai'M  In  ,  l,<  ,i  d  ,,f  iK.it*  r\  and  stone, 
and  in  a  tolerable  state  ol  I'  ■'  i  .  i  ■  mi  m  lii\  |ilLu-es,are 
.still  found  remaining  on  -  ,:   ,.  imli.  ating  the 

extent  to  which  the  vailL>  \ i  .  n    i  ,  >    m  i_ah  a  .  and  richer 

land  I  have  never  seen  tli  mi  i^  imi'  h  i.i  liii.-,  rliariuing  valley. 
.  .  .  Several  herds  of  oatUe  were  voraciously  feeding  on  the 
rich  herbage  near  the  stream ;  and  thousands  of  sheep  and 
goats  werejseen  approaching  the  stream,  or  "  resting  atnoonday  " 
in  the  shadow  of  the  great  rock  composing  the  overhanging  cliff 
here  and  there.  .  .  .  Rank  gra-sses,  luxuriant  reeds,  tall  weeds, 
and  shrubbery  and  trees  ot  various  kinds,  entirely  conceal  the 
stream  from  view  in  many  places.  .  .  .  Higher  up,  the  valley 
becomes  very  narrow,  and  the  rocky  precipices  tower  to  a 
sublime  height.' 

The  name  -'Fiiuii  dors  nut  seem  to  have  survived 
in  connexion  v.  uli  ihcM'  .v|uings,  but  wiUun  2  miles 
of  them  thriv  i>  ;iiiiilhrr  ^alley  called  by  the  Arabs 
Wady  Salciiii.  It  is  at  least  possible  that  this 
name  was  once  borne  liy  one  of  the  towns  whose 
ruins  still  crown  the  neighljouring  heights.  A 
town  thus  placed  would  have  been  a  conspicuous 
object  from  many  parts  of  Jud.'ea,  and  would  have 
been  naturally  referred  to  by  the  Evangelist  when 
describing  the  location  of  /Enon. 

LriERATriiE.— In  addition  to  writers  cited  above,  see  artt. 
'.Eiioa '  in  Smith's  DB-,  and  *  Salim  '  in  Eiicyc.  Blblica. 

W.  W.  Moore. 

AFFLICTION.-In  AV  of  the  Gospels  'attliction' 
occurs  only  twice  (Mk  4"  IS''-*),  corresijonding  both 
times  to  eXi^i^  in  the  original.  KV  gives  '  tribu- 
lation ' — its  invariable  rendering  of  BXiyj/is  except  in 
Jn  16-^  where,  like  AV,  it  has  '  anguish.'  In  Mt 
248  ^v  translates  c is  e\^iv  '  to  be  afflicted '  (RV 
'unto  tribulatiim ').  In  ,all  remaining  cases  it 
renders  ()\,,/i9  bv  '  IrHml  ition  '  (Mt  13='  24=1-29,  Mk 
]:P',  .In  Hi  ■).  tl,.'  (  acrk  CXri^is  (WH  exiypa)  signi- 
fies literally  '  iiressiiii;  td^etlier,'  'pressure'  (cf.  6Sd< 
TfO\iij.ij.h'v  'in  Mt  7'^  of  tiie  '  straitened  way ' ;  IW 
/i?)  BUjioKTLv  avT&v,  '  lest  they  should  throng  liim,'  in 
Mk  3").  In  classical  Greek  it  is  found  infrequently, 
and  with  its  literal  meaning  only.  In  Biblical 
Greek,  will  11'  ike  iiieta|ihorical  significance  pre- 
vail-   111  lie limner  occurrence,  always 

pos-i  ii  ,M-  .eii-e,  and  usually  suggesting 
'sulk    ,11  k       ill without' (Lightfoot). 

Ill  iiii.  -iMii-  el  riiiist  the  word  bears  three 
refeieiiees.  'it  cleiKiles  (lie  persecutiou  to  which 
His  l<, lingers  will  lie  sill  ijeeted,  and  by  which  theu' 
h.vallv  will  be  le.te.l  (Mk  4"=Mt  13";  Mt  24', 
the  privations  and  suli'erings 


Itdes 


Jn  10"^). 

(not,  as  above,  necessarily  induced  by  His  service) 
attendant  upon  a  great  national  or  universal  crisis 
(Mk  13"'-^=Mt  24"- =1).  And,  finally,  it  is  em- 
ployed  in  one  of  His  illustrations  to  indicate  a 


AGE 


AGONY 


woman's  Jiangs  in  childbirth  (Jn  16-',  AV  and 
KV  'anguish').  See,  further,  artt.  Persecution, 
Suffering,  Tribulation.  H.  Bissekek. 

AGE. — The  word  '  age '  is  a  vague  term,  as  may 
be  seen  by  its  doing  duty  as  a  possible  translation 
for  aiJiv  (Lat.  cevum,  an  unmeasured  period  of 
existence),  for  yevii.  (Lat.  gcneratio),  and  even 
for  the  more  precise  and  exact  terms  xp^""^  (Lat. 
tcmpus),  and  Kai.p6s  (Lat.  occasio).  Its  strictest 
Greek  equivalent,  however,  is  ■rjkLKla  (Lat.  wtas). 
An  examination  into  the  significance  of  the  term 
shows  a  remarkable  parallel  between  its  employ- 
ment in  classical  literature  and  in  the  Greek  of  the 
New  Testament.  'HXixfa  marks  a  normal  develop- 
ment of  life  ;  such  development  may  be  registered 
in  the  individual  by  years,  or  by  physique.  In 
classical  Greek,  the  former  is  tlie  usual  reference  of 
the  term,  and  hence  the  most  ordinary  meaninj 


be  discovered  by  a  comparison  of  these  four  pas- 


1  S  2-°  Kai  ri  TraiSa.fii.ov  Zafiovr}\  iiroptitTO  [  -f  npya- 
'Kvvbjj.fvov],  Kal  a-yadbv  Kal  fieri,  Kvplov  Kal  /uto. 
dvffpiiwwv  (LXX,  B,  said  of  Samuel). 

Lk  1"°  t6  5^  TraioioK  7jii|o»e  Kal  iKparaiovTO  irvevnaTi 
(said  of  the  Baptist). 

Lk  2^"  rb  Sk  iraibiov  •qG^aveu  Kal  ^Kparatovro  irXtj- 
povfievov  <TO(pli}f  Kal  x^P^^  ^^o^  ^*'  ^^'  avrd  (said  of 
Christ). 

Lk    2^"    Kal  '17]TOOS    irpO^KOTTTeP    4v  T^  (TOIpiqL  Kal  TjXtKltf 

Kal  xtip""'  Tipa  ^f?  If"!  dvOpu-n-ots  (said  of  Christ). 

A  careful  comparison  of  tliese  passages  appears 
determinative  of  the  sense  of  -qXtKia  in  the  last 
as  'stature,'  not  'age.'  What  was  noticeable  in 
a  measure  in  Samuel  and  in  the  Baptist,  was 
supremely  characteristic  of  the  Holy  Child, 
namely,  an  equal  develojiment  both  on  the 
physical  and  spiritual  side.  Translate  it  as  KVni, 
the  word  is,  like  the  poetical  jJ/Ji;,  the  flower  or  pi-ime  1  and  it  is  little  more  than  a  truism.  '  Stature '  is 
of  life.     The  significance,  however,  of  iiXida  as  stat-  |  not  only  not  superfluous,  but  an  interesting  and 


ure  or  height,  that  feature  of  physical  development 
which  mostly  attracts  the  eye,  is  quite  classical ; 
and  this  sense  occurs  in  Herodotus  (iii.  16),*  Plato, 
and  Demosthenes.  Turning  to  the  New  Testament, 
we  find  the  same  oscillation  of  meaning  in  iiMKia. 
In  tlie  Fourth  Gospel  the  parents  of  the  blind  man 
for  fear  of  excommunication  evade  the  question  of 
the  Jews,  and  shift  the  responsibility  of  answering 
upon  their  son  :  '  Therefore  said  his  parents.  He  is 
of  age,t  ask  him.'  In  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount 
'age 'J  appears  to  be  the  true  rendering  of  7)XiK(a. 
A  cubit  would  be  a  prodigious  addition  to  a  man's 
height,  while  a  span  was  already  a  proverbial 
expression§  to  signify  the  brevity  of  life.  '  Stature ' 
is,  of  course,  the  only  possible  rendering  in  tl: 


unexpected  contribution  to  that  group  of  refer- 
ences which  lay  stress  on  our  Lord's  humanity. 
It  helps  to  explain  His  'favour  with  men'  with 
which  it  stands  in  parallel.  It  suggests  that  our 
Lord's  personality,  even  His  appearance,  may  have 
liad  a  fascination  about  it.  Even  more,  it  may 
make  the  student  of  Messianic  prophecy  cautious 
in  attaching  a  too  physical  meaning  to  the  descrip- 
tion of  the  countenance  of  Jehovah's  Servant  (Is 
52'^  53=).  B.  Whitefoord. 

AGONY.— This  word  is  used  in  Lk  22^^  to  de- 
scribe the  sorrow,  sufl'ering,  and  struggle  of  Jesus 
in  Gethsemane.     The  Greek  word  agonia  (dywvla) 

derived  from  ni/OH  (d7uj'),  meaning :  (l)anassem- 


interesting  note  about  Zacchceus  ;  ||  and  this  is  the    bly  of  the  people  (cf.  dyopa) ;   (2)  a  place  of 

only  place  in  the  Gospel  where,  as  will  be  seen,  "  

T)\i.Kla  bears  this  meaning  with  an  absolute  cer- 
tainty. 

The  idea  of  periodicity,  which  is  largely  foreign 
to  the  meaning  of  iiKiKla  in  classical  Greek,  ajipears 
only  once,  and  that  doubtfully,  in  the  New  Testa 


bly,  especially  the  place  in  which  the  Greek.s 
assembled  to  celebrate  solemn  games ;  (3)  a  contest 
of  athletes,  runners  or  charioteers.  'A-yiiv  is  used  in 
a  figurative  sense  in  He  12'  '  let  us  run  with 
patience  the  race  that  is  set  before  us.'  The  word 
has  the  general  sense  of  struggle  in  1  Th  2-  'in 
ment.lT  The  dift'erent  '  ages  of  man '  **  and  so  of  |  much  conflict ' ;  Ph  !*•  '  having  the  same  conflict' ; 
our  Lord,tt  are  indicated  by  the  classical  formula  of  !  1  Ti  6-  '  the  good  fight  of  faith ' ;  2  Ti  4'  '  I  have 
time, 'years' being  in  the  genitive  case.  Hence  the  I  fought  the  good  figlit.'  It  means  solicitude  or 
word  yields  no  suggestion  as  to  those  characteristic  I  nnxieti/  in  Col  2'  '  how  greatly  I  strive  for  you ' 
periods,  or  epochs  in  the  earthly  life  of  our  Lord—  !  (literally,  '  how  great  an  agon  I  have  for  you '). 
the  infancy,  childhood,  manhood  of  Christ.  Nor  I  The  state  of  Jesus  in  Gethsemane  is  described  in 
would  the  word  deserve  a  place  in  this  Dictionary  |  the  following  phrases :  Mt  26"  '  he  began  to  be 
were  it  not  for  two  passages  in  which  it  occurs  or  l  sorrow  ful  ;uul  sore  troubled ' ;  Mk  14*^  '  he  began 
is  referred  to  when  its  interest  is  a  real  one,  as  is  '  to  lie  greatly  amazed  and  sore  troubled' ;  Lk  22** 
evident  by  the  attention  paid  to  them  by  all  com-  1  '  And  bcingin  an  agony  he  prayed  more  earnestly 


mentators  on  St.  Luke's  Gospel.JJ  Both 
appear  as  a  postscript  to  the  narrative  of  the  Holy 
Child  with  the  doctors  in  the  temple.  It  is  an 
incident  in  the  regular  equable  development  of 
His  life  upon  earth.  This  development  is  shown 
in  two  aspects.  The  Evangelist  declares  that 
Jesus  increased  (or  advanced)  in  wisdom  and 
stature,  and  in  favour  (or  grace)  with  God  and 
man.  St.  Luke's  phraseology  was  no  doubt  in- 
fluenced by  his  recollection  of  a  similar  encomium 
passed  upon  the  youthful  Samuel,§§  and  already  he 
had  found  it  not  unsuitable  to  be  quoted  in  refer- 
ence to  the  Baptist.il  II 

The  key  to  the  meaning  of  iiXcKla  in  Lk  2^-  may 
Mt  26'9. 

'  0  my  Father,  if  it  be  possible, 


It  were  great  drops  of 
"  ground.'  *    Jesus  con- 


let  this  cup  pass  away  from 
nevertheless  not  as  I  will, 
as  thou  wilt.' 

*  (X**  '^''  «iT^*  r,>.IX4r.v  '  AuMffi. 

I  Mt  627,  Lk  1225. 

II  Lk  193,  cf.  Eph  415. 
♦•  Mk  6«,  Lk  8«. 

tt  Lk  240.  62 

II I  Lk  160. 


but 


Mk  143». 

'Abba,  Father,  all  things  are 

possible  unto  thee ;  remove  this 

cup  from  me  :  howbeit  not  what 

I  will,  but  what  thou  wilt.' 


and  his  sv 
blood  falli 

fesses  Hi-  u«ii  f.  .  Unu^  in  the  words,  '  My  soul  is 
exceedin,^  -..i  lowtul,  even  unto  death'  (Mt  26'«, 
Mk  14").  'I'bat  He  regarded  the  experience  as  a 
temptation  is  suggested  by  His  warning  words  to 
His  disciples  :  '  Watch  and  pray,  that  ye  enter  not 
into  temptation:  the  spirit  indeed  is  willing,  but 
the  flesh  IS  weak '  (Mt  26«,  Mk  \i^  ;  cf.  Lk  22*'- «). 
•That  He  was  conscious  of  human  weakness,  and 
desired  Divine  strength  for  the  struggle,  is  evident 
from  the  prayers,  in  reporting  the  words  of  which 
the  Evangelists  do  not  verbally  agree,  as  the  follow- 
ing comparison  shows  : — 

LU  22^-'. 
'Father,  if    thou   be  willing, 
remove  this  cup  from  me :  never- 
theless, not  my  will,  but  thine, 
be  done.' 


SI  (Jn  921  21).  St.  Mark  and  St.  Luke  give  the  words  of  one 

I  prayer  only,  although  the  former  evidently  intends 

to  report  three  distinct  acts  of  prayer  (vv.^*-^"-'"), 

*  On  the  genuineness  of  this  passage  see  the  '  Notes  on  Select 

I  Readings '  in  Westcott  and  Horfs  yf  in  Greek. 


AGONY 


AGONY 


3? 


and  the  latter  aijparently  only  two  (¥¥.■"•"). 
But  St.  Matthew  gives  the  words  of  the  second 
prayer,  which  he  reports  as  repeated  the  third 
time  (vv.^--") :  'O  my  Father,  if  this  cannot  pass 
away,  except  I  drink  it,  thy  will  be  done.'  It  i.s 
not  at  all  improbable  that  there  was  such  progress 
in  Jesus'  thouglits.  At  first  He  prayed  for  tlie 
entire  removal  of  the  cup,  if  [lossible  (Mt.),  because 
possible  to  God  (MU.),  if  God  were  willing  (Lk.) ; 
and  then,  having  been  taught  that  it  could  not  be 
taken  away,  He  prayed  for  strength  to  take  the 
cup.  It  is  not  necessary  for  us  to  decide  which  of 
the  reports  is  most  nearly  verbally  correct,  as  the 
substance  of  the  first  i)i'ayer  is  the  same  in  all 
reports.  Although  St.  John  gives  no  report  of  the 
scene  in  Gethsemane,  yet  in  his  account  of  the 
interview  of  Jesus  with  the  Greeks  there  is  intro- 
duced what  seems  to  be  a  faint  reminiscence  : 
'  Now  is  my  soul  troubled  ;  and  what  shall  I  say  ? 
Father,  save  me  from  this  hour :  but  for  this 
cause  came  I  unto  this  hour.  Father,  glorify  thy 
name '  (Jn  12-'-  ^).  It  is  substantially  the  same 
request,  expressed  in  the  characteristically  Johan- 
nine  language.  But  even  if  this  conjecture  be 
unwarranted,  and  this  be  an  utterance  on  the 
occasion  to  which  the  Fourth  Evangelist  assigns 
it,  the  words  serve  to  illustrate  Jesus'  struggle  in 
view  of  His  death.  Much  more  confident  can  we 
be  that  Gethsemane  is  referred  to  in  He  5'-^ 
'  Who  in  the  days  of  his  flesh,  having  ofl'ered  up 
prayers  and  supplications  with  strong  crying  and 
tears  unto  him  tliat  was  able  to  save  liim  from 
death,  and  having  been  heard  for  his  godly  fear ; 
though  he  was  a  Son,  yet  learned  obedience  by 
the  tilings  which  he  suffered.'  Having  passed  in 
review  the  material  which  is  offered  us  in  dealing 
with  the  question  of  the  nature  of  the  agony  in 
Gethsemane,  we  may  now  concentrate  our  atten- 
tion upon  it,  excluding  all  reference  to  other 
matters  which  are  dealt  with  in  their  own  place. 

Many  answers  have  been  given  to  the  question, 
What  was  the  cup  w  liich  Jesus  desired  to  be  taken 
away  ? 

(IjiThe  most  obvious,  but  not  on  that  account 
the  most  intelligent  and  reverent,  answer  is  that 
in  Gethsemane  Jesus  was  overcome  by  tlie  fear  of 
death,  from  which  He  longed  to  escape.  But  this 
is  to  place  Christ  on  a  lower  plane  of  manhood 
than  many  men,  even  among  the  lowest  races.  If 
the  love  of  Christ  has  constrained  many  martyrs 
for  His  name  to  face  rack  and  block,  water  and 
flame,  and  many  other  painful  modes  of  death 
without  shrinking,  and  even  with  the  song  of 
praise  upon  the  lips,  is  it  at  all  likely  that  He 
Himself  shrank  back  ? 

(2)  A  more  ingenious  view,  whicli  has  an  apparent 
verbal  justification  in  Mt  26^",  Mk  14"  ('even  unto 
death'),  and  He  5'  ('to  save  him  from  death'),  is 
that  Jesus  felt  Himself  dying,  and  that  He  feared 
He  would  die  before  He  could  offer  the  great 
sacrifice  for  the  sin  of  the  world.  But  to  this 
suggestion  there  are  three  objections.  Firstly, 
there  is  no  evidence  of  such  physical  exhaustion  on 
the  part  of  Jesus  as  would  justify  such  a  fear ; 
although  the  stress  of  His  work  and  suffering  had 
undoubtedly  put  a  severe  strain  upon  His  bodily 
strength,  yet  we  have  no  proof  that  His  health 
had  given  way  so  far  as  to  make  death  appear  at 
all  probable.  Secondly,  only  a  very  superficial 
and  external  view  of  His  work  as  Saviour  warrants 
the  supposition  that  His  sacrifice  could  be  accom- 
plished only  on  the  Cross ;  that  its  efficacy  depended 
in  any  way  on  its  outward  mode ;  that  His  death, 
if  it  had  come  to  Him  in  Gethsemane,  would  have 
had  less  value  for  God  and  man  than  His  cruci- 
fixion has.  Thirdly,  even  if  this  supposition  be 
admitted,  we  may  be  sure  of  this,  that  Jesus  was 
so  confident  of  His  Father's  goodness  and  guardian- 


ship in  every  step  of  His  path,  that  it  was  impos- 
sible for  Him  to  fear  that  the  great  purpose  of  His 
life  would  bo  left  unfulfilled  on  account  of  His 
premature  death.  His  rebuke  of  tlie  '  little  faith ' 
(Mt  8^")  of  His  disciples  during  tlie  storm  at  sea 
would  have  been  applicable  to  Himself  had  He 
cherished  any  such  fear. 

(3)  A  much  more  profound  view  is  offered  to  our 
consideration,  when  not  tlie  death  itself,  but  the 
circumstances  of  the  death,  are  represented  as  the 
cause  of  Jesus'  agony.  He  regarded  His  death  not 
only  as  a  sacrifice  wliich  He  was  willing  to  offer, 
not  only  as  a  tragedy  which  He  was  ready  to 
endure,  but  as  a  crime  of  man  against  God  from 
wliicli  He  shrank  with  horror.  That  the  truth 
and  grace  of  God  in  Him  should  meet  with  this 
insult  and  injury  from  the  race  which  He  had 
come  to  save  and  liloss — tliis  it  was  that  caused 
His  agonj'.  He  could  nut  endure  to  gaze  into  '  the 
al)ysiual  deptlis'  of  human  iniquity  and  impiety, 
whicli  the  murder  of  tlie  Holy  One  and  the  Ju.st 
opened  to  view.  Surely  this  apocalypse  of  sin  was 
not  necessary  as  a  condition  of  the  apocalypse  of 
grace.  If  we  look  more  closely  at  the  conduct  of 
the  actors  in  this  drama,  we  shall  better  under- 
stand how  appalling  a  revelation  of  sin  it  must  have 
appeared  to  Jesus.  The  fickleness  of  the  multi- 
tude, tlie  hypocrisy  and  bigotry  of  the  Pharisees, 
the  worldliness  and  selfishness  of  the  priesthood, 
tlie  treachery  of  Judas,  the  denial  by  Peter,  the 
antagonism  of  the  disciples  generally  to  the  Master's 
saving  purpose,  the  falsehood  of  His  accusers,  the 
hate  and  the  craft  of  His  persecutors, — all  these 
were  present  to  the  consciousness  of  Jesus  as  an 
intolerable  offence  to  His  conscience,  and  an  un- 
speakable grief  to  His  heart.  To  His  moral 
insight  and  spiritual  discernment  these  were  not 
single  misdeeds,  but  signs  and  proofs  of  a  wicked- 
ness and  godlessness  spreading  far  and  wide  in  tlie 
life  of  mankind,  reaching  deep  into  the  soul  of 
man.  Must  this  antagonism  of  sin  to  God  be 
forced  to  its  ultimate  issue?  Could  He  not  save 
mankind  by  some  mode  of  sacrifice  that  would 
involve  the  men  concerned  in  it  in  less  heinous 
guilt?  Must  He  by  persevering  in  His  present 
course  dri\e  His  enemies  to  do  their  worst  against 
Him,  and  thus  by  His  fidelity  to  His  vocation 
must  He  involve  all  who  opposed  Him  in  this 
greater  iniquity?  That  sucli  questions  cannot 
have  been  present  to  the  mind  of  Jesus,  who  can 
confidently  affirm?  He  foresaw  the  doom  of  the 
guilty  nation,  and  He  also  saw  that  it  was  the 
crime  about  to  be  committed  against  Him  that 
would  seal  its  doom.  That  He  shrank  from 
being  thus  the  occasion  of  its  judgment  cannot  be 
doubted.  But  if  in  Gethsemane  Jesus  anticipated 
distinctly  and  accejited  deliberately  what  He  so 
intensely  experienced  on  the  Cross,  then  this  solici- 
tude for  all  who  were  involved  in  the  crime  of  His 
death  does  not  at  all  exhaust  His  agony.  The 
words  of  darkness  and  desolation  on  the  Cross, 
'My  God,  my  God,  why  hast  thou  forsaken  me?' 
(Mt  27'"'),  must  be  our  clue  to  the  mystery  of  this 
experience. 

(4)  Tlie  only  view  that  seems  to  the  present 
writer  at  all  adequate  is  that  what  Jesus  dreaded 
and  prayed  to  be  delivered  from  in  the  experience 
of  death  was  the  sense  of  God's  distance  and 
abandonment.  His  sorrow  unto  death  was  not 
the  fear  of  death  as  physical  dissolution,  nor  of 
dying  before  He  could  finish  His  work  on  the 
Cross,  but  the  shrinking  of  His  filial  soul  from 
the  sting  of  death,  due  to  sin,  the  veiling  in  dark- 
ness of  His  Father's  face  from  Him.  His  prayer 
was  answered,  for  He  was  saved  from  death, 
inasmuch  as  the  experience  of  darkness  and 
desolation  was  momentary,  and  ere  He  gave  up 
the  ghost  He  was  able  to  commit  Himself  vrith 


AGONY 


AGRICULTUEE 


tliikllike  trust  unto  His  Father.  'Father,  into 
thy  hands  I  commend  ray  spirit'  (Lk  23*).  His 
agony  in  Gethsemane  was  worthy  of  Him  as  the 
Son  of  Go*l,  for  it  was  the  recoil  of  His  filial  spiiit 
from  the  interruption  of  His  filial  communion  with 
His  Father,  which  appeared  to  Him  to  be  neces- 
sarily involved  in  the  sacrifice  which  He  was  about 
to  offer  for  the  sins  of  the  world. 

It  is  not  the  function  of  this  article  to  offer  a 
theological  interpretation  of  Jesus'  experience  in 
Gethsemane;  but  a  justification  of  the  above 
answer  to  the  question  of  tlie  nature  of  Jesus' 
agony  may  be  briefly  ofl'ered  in  a  psychological 
analysis  of  His  experience.  First  of  all,  then, 
we  note  Jesus'  sense  of  solitude.  He  must  leave 
behind  Him  the  disciples  except  three,  and  even 
from  these  three  He  must  withdraw  Himself 
(Mt  2&>^-'^).  He  sought  this  outward  isolation 
because  He  felt  tliis  inner  solitude.  Since  His 
announcement  of  His  Passion  (Mt  16"')  the  dis- 
ciples had  been  becoming  less  and  less  His  com- 
panions, as  they  were  being  more  and  more 
estranged  from  His  purpose.  At  last  He  knew 
that  they  would  abandon  Him  altogether,  their 
outer  distance  but  the  sign  and  proof  of  their- 
inward  alienation.  Yet  the  comfort  of  the  Father's 
presence  would  remain  with  Him:  'Behold,  the 
hour  cometh,  yea,  is  come,  that  ye  shall  be  scat- 
tered eveiT  man  to  his  own,  and  shall  leave  me 
alone  :  and  yet  I  am  not  alone,  because  the  Father 
is  with  me'  (Jn  16^=).  But  now  in  Gethsemane 
He  liegan  to  realize  that  it  might  be  necessary  for 
the  accomplishment  of  His  sacrifice  that  even  tlie 
Father's  presence  should  be  w itlidra«n  from  Him. 
That  dread  drives  Him  to  the  Fathers  presence, 
but  the  assurance  that  there  is  no  ground  for  this 
fear  does  not  come  to  Him.  Again  He  turns  to 
His  disciples.  Secondly,  therefore,  we  note  His 
need  of  sympathy.  When  He  withdrew  from  the 
three.  He  asked  them  to  watch  with  Him  ;  wlien, 
returning.  He  found  them  sleeping,  His  words 
are  a  pathetic  reproach :  '  AVliat,  could  ye  not 
watch  with  me  one  hour?'  (Mt  26*).  He  craved 
sympathy,  not  only  because  He  felt  solitary,  but 
because  this  solitude  was  due  to  His  love  for  man. 
The  sacrifice  He  was  about  to  otter,  in  wliich  the 
sense  of  His  Father's  abandonment  was  the  sting 
of  death,  was  on  behalf  of,  and  instead  of  man  ; 
and  yet  not  even  tlie  men  He  had  chosen  would 
sorrow  with  Him,  although  He  was  suttering  for 
all  mankind.  Tims  man's  denial  of  sympathy 
must  have  made  Him  feel  more  keenly  tlie  dread 
that  even  God's  comfort  and  help  might  be  -with- 
held from  Him.  Tliirdly,  we  note  that  this  dread 
was  not  groundless,  but  was  rooted  deep  in  His 
experience  and  vocation.  We  nmst  then  go  be- 
yond any  of  tlie  words  uttered  in  Gethsemane 
Itself  to  discover  all  that  was  involved  in  His 
agony  there.  As  tlie  incarnate  love,  mercy,  and 
grace  of  God,  His  exjierience  was  necessarily 
vicarious.  He  suiiered  with  and  for  man.  He 
so  identified  Himself  with  sinful  mankind,  that 
He  shared  its  struggle,  Iwre  its  burden,  felt  its 
shame.  Him.self  sinless,  knowing  no  sin.  He  was 
made  sin  for  mankind  in  feeling  its  sin  as  it  were 
His  very  own.  The  beloved  of  God,  He  became 
a  curse  in  experiencing  in  His  own  agony  and 
desolation  the  consequences  of  sin,  although  as 
innocent  He  could  neither  feel  the  guilt  nor  bear 
the  penalty  of  sin.  So  completely  had  He  become 
one  with  mankind  in  being  made  sin  and  a  curse 
for  man,  that  even  His  consciousness  of  filial  union 
and  communion  with  God  as  His  Father  was  ob- 
scured and  interrupted,  if  even  for  only  a  moment, 
by  His  consciousness  of  the  sin  of  man.  God  did 
not  withdraw  Himself  from,  or  abandon  His  only- 
begotten  and  well-beloved  Son,  but  was  with  Him 
to  sustain  Him  in  His  sacrifice;  but  the  Son  of 


(jod  was  so  o\ersliadowed  and  overwhelmed  by 
His  consciousness  of  the  sin  and  the  consequent 
curse  of  the  race  which  He  so  loved  as  to  make 
Himself  one  with  it,  that  He  dreaded  in  Geth- 
semane to  lose,  and  did  on  Calvary  lose  for  a 
moment,  the  comfort  and  help  of  His  Father's 
love.  In  this  experience  He  exhibited  the  an- 
tagonism of  God  and  sin,  the  necessary  connexion 
between  the  expulsion  of  God  and  the  invasion  of 
sin  in  any  consciousness,  since  His  self-identifica- 
tion -with  sinful  man  involved  His  self-isolation 
from  the  Holy  Father.  This,  then,  was  the  agony 
in  Gethsemane,  such  a  sense  of  the  sorrow,  shame, 
and  curse  of  mankind's  sin  as  His  very  own  as 
became  a  dread  of  the  loss  of  God's  fatherly  pres- 
ence. Although  He  at  first  prayed  to  be  delivered 
from  this,  to  Him,  most  terrible  and  grievous  ex- 
perience, yet  He  afterward  submitted  to  God's 
-will,  as  God's  purpose  in  the  salvation  of  mankind 
was  dearer  to  Him  than  even  the  joy  of  His  filial 
communion  with  God  His  Father.  In  this  sur- 
render He  was  endowed  with  such  strength  from 
alx)ve  that  He  finished  the  work  His  Father  had 
given  Him  to  do,  and  in  His  obedience  even  unU) 
death  ottered  the  sacrifice  of  His  life,  which  is  a 
ransom  for  many,  and  the  seal  of  the  new  covenant 
of  forgiveness,  renewal,  and  fellowship  with  God 
for  all  mankind.     See  also  art.  Dekeliction. 

Literature.— The  standard  Commentaries  and  Lives  of  Christ ; 
Hastings'  DB  ii.  Tlif.;  Jonathan  Edwards,  Works,  ii.  SOUff.; 
Expos.  Times,  vi.  [1894-1895],  433  f.,  52-3  ;  Expositor,  3rd  str.  v. 
ISOff.;  Fairbairn,  SdirficsiH  the  Life  of  Christ,  'Gethsemane,' 
where  the  explanation  umubered  (3)  above  is  fully  elaborated. 

Alfred  E.  Gakvie. 
AGRAPHA.— See  Sayings. 

AGRICULTURE — The  influence  of  the  physical 
and  climatic  characteristics  of  a  land  ujion  the 
character  of  its  people  has  been  a  favourite  theme 
with  many  Avriters.  But  we  are  more  concerned 
here  -with  another  marked  feature— the  profound 
influence  exerted  by  the  occupations  of  a  people 
on  their  manner  of  thought  and  their  modes  of 
expressing  it.  Nowhere  was  this  subtle  influence 
more  manifest  than  in  the  case  of  the  Hebrews. 
Their  occupations  w  ere  largely  determined  by  the 
characteristics  of   tlie  land   they 


their  thought  and  the  1: 

were  equally  mouMiMl  I 

1,  The  place   vf  A; 


inhabited,  but 
-I-  tliat  was  its  vehicle 
upations. 
ia  the  life  and 
thoucfht  of  the  7/. /-■.»■-.--  from  the  first  the 
Hebrews  were  a  pastoral,  and  from  vei-y  early 
times  an  agricultural  people ;  and  these  twin 
employments  have  lent  their  colour  and  tone  to 
their  literature,  and  shaped  their  profoundest 
thoughts  and  utterances  regarding  God  and  man. 
God  is  the  Shepherd  of  Israel  (Ps  80>) ;  Israel  is 
'  the  people  of  liis  pasture,  and  the  sheep  of  his 
hand  *^(95',  cf.  74'  79''  IW).  God  is  the  Husband- 
man ;  Israel  is  His  vineyard  (Is  5'"-).  God  is  the 
Ploughman ;  Israel  is  the  land  of  His  tillage 
(Is'28^"-,  cf.  ICo3«). 

When  we  turn  to  the  Gospels  we  find  the  same 
stream  of  thought  in  full  flow.  The  highest 
Christian  virtue  is  enforced  by  appeal  to  Him 
who  '  maketli  liis  sun  to  rise  on  the  evil  and  on 
the  good,  and  sendeth  rain  on  the  just  and  on  the 
unjust'  (Mt  5*=).  The  kingdom  of  God  is  set  forth 
under  such  emblems  as  the  sower  going  forth  to 
sow  (IZ^"),  the  wheat  and  the  tares  "rowing  to- 
gether until  the  harvest  (v. -■'"'•),  the  lord  of  the 
vineyard  going  out  early  in  the  morning  to  hire 
labourers  (20"^),  or  sending  to  demand  its  fruits 
(21»'').  Christ  compares  Himself  to  the  shepherd 
who  seeks  his  lost  sheep  until  he  finds  it  (Lk  IS-"), 
or  lays  down  his  life  for  the  sheep  (Jn  10").  The 
multitude  are,  to  His  compassionate  eve,  as  '  sheep 
not  having  a  shepherd'  (Mt  9^,  Mk  6").     The 


AGEICULTURl!: 


AGRICULTURE 


world  appears  to  Him  as  a  great  field  '  white  unto 
harvest'  (Jn  4'^),  and  awaiting  the  labour  of  the 
reapers  (iVIt  9"'-).  His  relation  to  His  disciples  is 
expressed  under  the  figure  of  the  vine  and  its 
branches  (Jn  W-)    See  also  art.  HUSBANDMAN. 

Noteworthy  also  is  the  place  assigned  by  Biblical 
writers  to  the  cultivation  of  the  soil.  It  is  re- 
presented as  the  duty  of  the  first  man.  Adam, 
placed  in  the  Garden  of  Eden,  is  'to  dress  it  and 
to  keep  it'  (Gn  2"*) ;  driven  from  it,  he  is  sent  '  to 
till  the  ground  from  whence  he  was  taken '  (3=^). 
To  Noali  the  promise  is  given  that  '  while  the 
earth  reraaineth,  seedtime  and  harvest  .  .  .  shall 
not  cease '  (8~).  The  land  of  promise  is  '  a  land  of 
wheat  and  barley '  (Dt  8").  The  Golden  Age  will 
be  a  time  when  men  'shall  beat  their  swords  into 
ploughshares,  and  their  spears  into  pruning-hooks,' 
and  '  they  shall  sit  every  man  under  his  vine  and 
under  his  fig-tree'  (Is  2'',  Mic  4^-'').  The  glad- 
ness of  the  Messianic  age  is  '  joy  according  to  the 
joy  in  harvest'  (Is  9^). 

Nor  was  it  only  in  their  conception  of  the  past 
and  their  anticipation  of  the  fiiture  that  the  in- 
lluence  of  agriculture  made  itself  felt :  it  was  the 
very  foundation  of  their  national  and  religious 
life.  A  pastoral  age,  it  is  true,  preceded  the 
agricultural,  and  the  patriarchs  are  represented, 
for  the  most  part,  as  herdsmen  rather  than  culti- 
vators (Gn  37'^  47^) ;  and  even  as  late  as  the  be- 
ginning of  the  settlement  in  Canaan,  the  trans- 
Jordanic  tribes  are  said  to  have  had  a  great 
multitude  of  cattle  (Nu  .32').  But,  on  the  other 
hand,  we  learn  that  Isaac,  who  had  gone  to  Gerar, 
'  sowed  in  that  land,  and  found  in  the  same  year 
an  hundredfold'  (Gn  26'-);  while  the  first  dream 
of  Joseph  shows  that  if  he  did  not  actually  follow, 
he  was  at  least  familiar  with,  agricultural  pur- 
suits (37'"').  But  it  was  not  till  after  their  con- 
quest of  the  Land  of  Promise  that  the  Hebrews 
became  an  agricultural  people  on  any  large  scale. 
Prior  to  that  time,  however,  agriculture  was 
highly  developed  among  the  Canaanites  (Dt  8*) ; 
and  it  may  have  been  from  the  conquered  race 
that  they  acquired  it.  Once  learned,  it  became 
the  staple  industry  of  the  country. 

The  Mosaic  legislation  presupposes  a  people 
given  to  agricultural  pursuits.  That  is  suffi- 
ciently attested  by  the  laws  anent  the  three 
annual  festivals  (Ex  23'^-'^),  the  septennial  fallow 
(23"),  the  gleanings  of  the  harvest  held  (Lv  19"- '°), 
the  year  of  Jubilee  (2o'»'f-  27""'-),  and  many  others. 
Further  attestation  of  the  same  fact  is  found  in 
the  blessings  that  were  to  attend  the  faithful 
observance  of  the  Law,  and  the  curses  that  would 
follow  disobedience  (Lv  26^-=-  "=»,  Dt  28'-=-  ''•"). 

2.  The  soil  of  Palestine.— The  fertility  of  the 
soil  of  Palestine  was  remarkable,  as  is  testified 
by  Josephus  (c.  Apian,  i.  22 ;  BJ  ii.  3)  and  others 
(Diod.  xl.  3,  7 ;  Tac.  Hist.  v.  6).  The  soil  varies 
in  character.  In  the  Jordan  Valley  and  the 
maritime  plains  it  consists  of  a  very  rich  alluvial 
deposit ;  in  the  regions  lying  at  a  higher  elevation 
it  has  been  formed  from  decomposing  basaltic  rock 
and  cretaceous  limestone.  This,  however,  was 
greatly  enriched  by  the  system  of  '  terracing,'  low 
walls  of  '  shoulder-stones '  being  built  along  the 
mountain  slopes,  and  the  ledges  behind  them 
tilled  with  the  alluvial  soil  of  tlie  valleys.  These 
walls  gave  protection  against  the  heavy  rains,  and 
prevented  the  soil  from  being  washed  away.  It 
was  to  this  system  that  districts  such  as  Lebanon, 
Carmel,  and  Gilboa  owed  the  wonderful  fertility 
that  formerly  characterized  them. 

All  parts  were  not,  of  course,  equally  productive. 
Thus  we  find  the  Mishna  {Gitti/i,  v.  1)  enumer- 
alin^j'  several  classes  of  soil  according  to  their 
quality  or  the  degree  of  moisture.  Such  a  classi- 
fication is  quite  distinct  from  that  of  the  parable 


of  the  Sower,  where  the  wayside,  the  rocky 
places,  etc.,  are  all  within  the  limits  of  a  sinele 
field  (Mt  13=,  Mk  4^  Lk  S'l.  It  ,m;,.v  l,e  noted 
here  that  ground  whicli  Nirldra  ili,,rns  was 
considered  specially  good  lor  «  ]„•■., \  -■^inwiw^,  while 
that  which  was  overrun  with  wcnls  was  assigned 
to  barley.  Tlie  most  productive  fields  were  often 
marked  by  the  presence  of  large  stones,  some 
of  which  were  beyond  a  man's  own  strength  to 
remove.  Their  presence  was  regarded  as  a  token 
that  the  soil  was  fertile.  Smaller  stones,  which 
were  also  plentiful,  were  often  used  for  making 
rude  walls  along  the  side  of  the  fields.  In  some 
districts  they  were  so  numerous  that  they  had  to 
be  removed  every  year  after  ploughing  had  taken 
place. 

3.  Ar/rintltural  operations,  etc.  —  The  work  of 
preparing  the  land  for  cultivation  was  the  first 
concern  of  the  farmer.  Where  virgin  soil  had 
to  be  reclaimed,  a  beginning  was  made  by  clear- 
ing it  of  timber,  brushwood,  or  stones  (Jos  17'*, 
Is  5-).  It  was  then  ready  to  receive  the  plough 
(which  see). 

(a)  Ploughing  began  immediately  after  the 
'early  rain'  had  softened  the  ground,  i.e.  towards 
the  end  of  September  or  beginning  of  October, 
and  went  on  right  through  the  winter,  provided 
the  soil  had  not  become  too  wet  and,  therefore, 
too  heavy.  Usually  a  single  ploughing  sufficed, 
but  if  the  soil  was  very  rough  it  was  ploughed 
twice. 

In  some  cases  the  hoe  or  mattock  took  the  place 
of  the  plough.  That  is  the  common  practice  in 
modern  times  where  there  is  a  rocky  bottom  and 
only  a  sparse  covering  of  earth.  In  ancient  times 
the  same  course  was  followed  where  hillsides  were 
brought  under  cultivation  (Is  7^).  The  same  im- 
plement was  employed  for  breaking  up  large  clods 
of  earth  (Is  2S=S  Hos  10"),  but  whether  the  refer- 
ence includes  the  clods  upturned  by  the  plough,  or 
merely  those  occurring  in  'stony  groimd,'  is  not 
quite  certain. 

(b)  Dung  was  employed  for  increasing  the  pro- 
ductiveness of  fruit  trees  (Lk  l.S^),  but  not,  as  a 
rule,  for  grain  fields.  The  ninst  comuioii  forms 
were  house  and  farmyard  n-fu-r  mix.  d  with  straw 
(Is  25"),  withered  leaves,  Dil-Mimi,  .-md  wood- 
ashes.  The  blood  of  slaughtercil  iniiniiils  was  also 
used  for  this  purpose. 

(c)  The  principal  crops  were  wheat,  barley,  spelt, 
millet,  beans,  and  lentils  (see  articles  on  the  first 
two  of  these).  Oats  were  little  cultivated.  From 
Jos  2"  we  learn  that  flax  was  grown.  It  was 
sometimes  sown  as  an  experiment  for  testing  the 
quality  of  the  soil,  for  a  field  which  had  yielded 
good  nax  was  regarded  as  specially  suitaole  for 
wheat-growing. 

(d)  The  sowing  season  began  in  the  early  days 
of  October.  A  beginning  was  made  with  pulse 
varieties,  barley  came  next,  and  wheat  followed. 
Millet  was  sown  in  summer,  the  land  being  pre- 
pared for  it  by  irrigation.  When  the  winter  set 
in  cold  and  wet,  liarley  was  not  sown  till  the 
beginning  of  February. 

The  sower  carries  the  seed  in  a  basket  or  bag, 
from  which  he  scatters  it  broadcast.  Where  a 
single  ploughing  suffices,  the  seed  is  sown  first  .and 
then  ploughed  in.  When  it  is  sown  on  plnnpjlied 
ground,  the  usual  course  is  .-ilsn  to  plonuli  il  in, 
but  sometimes  a  light  harrow  (not  inlii'i|iiriil  l\  ;i, 
thorn-bush)  is  used  to  cover  it.  Seed  iIkiI  hills  on 
the  footpath  or  '  wayside '  cannot  Im;  cu\  ered 
owing  to  the  hardness  of  the  ground,  and  is 
picked  up  by  the  birds  (Mt  13-'  and  parallels). 

(c)  The  crops  thus  sown  were  expo-sed,  as  they 
grew,  to  various  clangers,  such  as  the  inroads  of 
roaming  cattle,  the  depredations  of  birds,  or  the 
visitation  of  locusts ;   and   also   to  such  adverse 


40 


AGRICULTURE 


AKELDAMA 


natural  >anil  flimatic  influences  as  drought,  east 
wind,  and  mildew.  Some  of  these  will  be  separ- 
ately treated,  and  need  not  be  dwelt  upon  now. 
But  it  may  be  convenient  to  say  a  few  words  at 
this  stage  regarding— 

{/)  The  water  supphj  of  the  country. — Unlike 
Egj'pt,  which  owed  its  fertility  exclusively  to  the 
Nile,  Palestine  had  its  time  of  rain  (Dt  ll'"-  "■  ", 
Jer5-^etc.).  The  'early  rain'  (n-iin)  of  the  Bible 
is  that  of  October,  which  precedes  ploughing  and 
sowing  :  the  '  latter  rain  (iripS?)  denotes  the  re- 
freshing showers  that  fall  in  March  and  April,  and 
give  much-needed  moisture  to  the  "rowing  crops. 
The  intervening  period  is  marked  by  the  heavy 
rains  of  winter  (cipj),  the  wettest  month  being 
January.  The  rainfall  is  not  uniform  over  the 
countrj'.  In  the  Jordan  Valley  it  is  very  slight ; 
at  Jerusalem  it  averages  about  20  inches  annually  ; 
in  some  other  upland  regions  it  is  almost  twice  "as 
much.  In  the  highest  lying  parts,  as  Lebanon, 
there  is  a  considerable  fall  of  snow.  There  are 
also  many  brooks  and  springs  (Dt  8'),  and  irriga- 
tion is  employed,  especially  in  gardening,  though 
naturally  on  a  much  smaller  scale  than  in  Egyj)t. 
The  summer  months  are  hot  and  rainless. 

(g)  Harvest. — Barley  harvest  CJ  S  'Jl-'j  began  in 
Apiil  or  May,  according  ;i.s  tlie  district  was  early 
or  late  ;  wheat  and  spolt  -were  ripe  a  few  weeks 
after  (Ex  SH"'  ^-).  The  grain  was  cut  with  a  sickle 
(Jl  3",  Dt  16»,  Mk  4^  ;  see  art.  Sickle),  or  pulled 
up  by  the  roots  (Mishna,  Pcah  \v.  10).  The 
latter  method  was  followed  both  in  Palestine  and 
in  Egypt,  and  is  so  still ;  but  the  use  of  the  sickle 
goes  back  to  very  early  times,  as  the  excavations 
at  Tell  el-Hesy  have  shown.  Ordinarily  the  stalks 
were  cut  about  a  foot  beneath  the  ear,  but  in 
some  instances  even  higher  (Job  24^).  The  reaper 
grasped  them  in  handfuls  (Ru  2'^),  reaped  them 
with  his  arm  (Is  17^),  and  laid  them  behind  him  ; 
while  the  binder,  following  him,  gathered  them  in 
his  bosom  (Ps  129'),  tied  them  with  straw  into 
sheaves  (Gn  37'),  and  set  them  in  heaps  (D"i-J'* 
Ru  2'). 

(A)  Threshing. — The  sheaves  thus  prepared  were 
carried  to  the  threshing-floor  on  the  backs  of  men 
or  of  beasts  of  burden,  such  as  donkeys,  horses,  or 
camels.  Am  2"  has  been  taken  by  some  as  im- 
plying that  they  Avere  sometimes  removed  in  carts, 
but  this  is  very  doubtful.  The  reference  is  more 
probably  to  the  threshing-sledge  (Is  28^). 

The  threshing-floor  is  simply  a  circle  of  k'\el 
ground  which  has  been  carefully  cleaned  and 
Ijeaten  hard,  and  is  enclosed  with  a  row  of  big 
stones  to  prevent  the  straw  from  being  too  widely 
scattered.  The  spot  selected  always  stood  higher 
than  the  surrounding  ground,  so  that  it  should  be 
open  to  the  air  currents,  and  that  rain,  if  it 
occurred,  though  it  was  rare  in  harvest  time  (1  S 
The 
!  floor, 

till  a  heap  was  formed  about  a  foot  high.  Cattle 
(Hos  10")  were  then  driven  over  it  repeatedly,  or 
a  threshing-wain  drawn  by  cattle.  The  Penta- 
teiichal  law  provided  that  the  cattle  engaged  in 
this  operation  sliould  not  be  muzzled  (Dt25*).  It 
was  also  the  custom  to  blindfold  them,  as  other- 
wise, moving  continually  in  a  circle,  they  became 
dizzy  (Talmud,  Kelim  xvi.  7).  Certain  crops, 
however,  were  threshed  by  being  beaten  with  a 
stick  (Is  28"). 

Two  kinds  of  tlirc^liin;;  iiiacliincs  were  employed, 
the  draj;  and   tlir  \\a-;'i.ii.       'I'lie  drag  (Jnio,   j-nn) 

was  a  lii-avy  w 1.  ii   l...:iid.+  the  under-surface  of 

wliicli  was  studdrd-vvith  nails  or  sliarp  fragments 
of  stone  (Is  41'^).     It  waa  further  weighted  with 

•  See  Vogelstein,  Laitdwirthschaft  in  Pal.  61. 
I  See  illustration  in  Driver's  Jo'd  atid  Amoa  (Camb.  Bible), 
p.  227. 


large  stones,  and  by  the  driver  himself,  who  stood, 
sat,  or  even  lay  upon  it.  The  waggon  (■i^jij  Is 
28-*)  was  provided  with  sharp  metal  discs.  These 
were  aftixed  to  revolving  rollers  set  in  a  rude 
Avaggon-frame. 

(0  Winnowing.  —  The  operation  of  threshing 
yielded  a  confused  mass  of  grain,  chafl",  and  broken 
straw,  which  required  to  be  winnowed.  Two  im- 
plements were  used  for  this  process  —  the  shovel 
and  the  fan  (Is  30'^).  With  these  the  mixed  mass 
was  tossed  into  the  air,  against  the  wind.  The 
chaff  was  blown  away  (Ps  V),  the  straw  fell  a  little 
distance  off,  and  the  grain  at  the  feet  of  the  win- 
nower. Where,  as  at  large  public  threshing-floors, 
there  was  an  accumulation  of  chaff,  it  was  burned 
(Mt  3'=).  The  chopped  straw  (pn  Is  11')  was  used 
as  fodder  for  cattle. 

( /)  Sifting. — The  winnowed  grain  still  contained 
anaduiixture  of  small  stones  and  particles  of  clay, 
stubljle,  and  unbruised  ears,  and  also  of  smaller 
poisonous  seeds  such  as  tares,  and  so  stood  in  need 
of  yet  further  cleansing.  Tliis  was  effected  by 
means  of  sifting.  In  modern  Palestine  the  sieve 
in  common  use  is  a  wooden  hoop  with  a  mesh  made 
of  camel -hide.  This  implement  probably  corre- 
sponds to  the  n-;53  (kebhdrah)  of  ancient  times  (Am 
!)").  The  mesh  was  wide  enough  to  allow  the 
separated  grains  to  pass  through,  but  retained  the 
unthreshed  ears,  which  were  cast  again  on  the 
threshing-floor.*  In  Is  30^  another  implement  is 
mentioned,  nsi  (naphah),  which  both  AV  and  RV 
render  'sieve.'  It  is  not  quite  certain,  however, 
that  the  niiphdh  was  really  a  sieve.  If  it  was,  it 
may  have  resembled  the  modern  ghirbal,  which  is 
of  smaller  mesh  than  the  hebhdrah  (Arab,  kirbal), 
and  permits  only  broken  grains  and  dust  to  i)ass 
through,  while  retaining  the  unbruised  kernels. 

The  sifted  grain  was  collected  in  large  heaps, 
and,  pending  its  removal  to  the  granary,  the 
owner,  to  guard  against  thieving,  slept  by  the 
threshing-floor  (Ru  3').  In  the  Gospels  there  is 
one  reference  to  sifting  (Lk  22^'). 

(A-)  Storage.  —  In  the  js'T  a  gianary  is  called 
amd-iiKri  (Mt  &^  IS**,  Lk  12'8-  ^).  In  the  OT  quite 
a  variety  of  names  occurs  (niijcp  Ex  1"  ;  o-npK  Dt 
28* ;  D-prKO  Jer  50=* ;  0'i>D  Ps  144'' ;  niiyk  and 
niij^a  Ji '  \").  But  thougij  the  nomenclature  is 
so  rich,  of  the  construction  and  character  of  those 
granaries  we  know  nothing.  Some  of  them  wei'e 
probably  sheds,  and  may  have  resembled  the  flat- 
roofed  buildings  used  in  Egypt  for  storing  grain. 
Others  may  have  been  dry  wells,  or  cisterns,  or 
caves  hewn  out  of  the  rock,  such  as  are  common  in 
modern  times.  The  grain  stored  in  these  raaga- 
zin^'s  \vi]l  vpni-iin   I'ood  for  years. 


/;  ■.■-:./  .;             i  K'logie,  i. 

-•M.  :,,/'/,  /               ,  zarZeil 

,/,,  -      i,    '.  ,   ,  1.   V  :  /.,  '  ',  .   Mi.;  Wilkin- 

s.  I,  ;  .Xhon^son.  ih:' Land  aivd,  the 

/;  .  ,!,,;.        /  -  /<  aiul  Customs:  ZDPVix.; 

I-i:i  .  1    ,          !   1  I ■:  landwinhtchafUichen  BiUer 

:,„!  ;  ,'    ,1.  Alt.  Test;  Hasting^  DB, 

Hugh  Duncan. 
AHAZ.— One  of   the  kings  of  Judah  (c.   735- 
721)  li.c),  named  in  St.   Matthew's  genealogy  of 
our  Lord  (Mt  l'-*). 

AHIMELECH.— See  Abiathak. 

AKELDAMA.— The  name  given  in  Ac  l'»  to  the 
field  purchased  with  the  price  of  Judas'  treachery. 

•  In  this  rase  the  meaninpr  of  '  the  least  nroin "  in  Am  9'  must 
be  '  the  lease  pebble '  (so  Preuschcn,  ZA  TW.  1895,  p.  24).  Others 
(e.g.  Driver,  Joel  and  Amos,  p.  221 ;  Nowack  and  JIarti  in  their 
Comm.  ad /oc, )  take  the  word  nn-i  (.-  . .  iu.  '  i"  '  I  Ic  )  to  stand 
here  for  a  (jrain  of  wheat,  while  u' in  •  i      '  i       ivurdisnot 

elsewhere  so  used.     On  this  su]  i  i  n  of  the 

kebliiirah  would  be  similar  to  tli.u  i  n-  u.  ^  i:;  jmrbal  de- 
scribed above. 


AKELDAMA 


ALABASTER 


41 


'I'lie  true  reading  seems  to  lie  aKeXda/jtdx  i^  !  •'f- 
dxc^5a^dx,  J^A  61,  etc.  :  dK€\5ai^dx,  T)  ;  dKe\da/J.dK^ 
E)  rather  than  the  TK  dK^Xda/id ;  and  the  linal 
aspirate  is  here  of  itniiortiuue,  as  will  be  seen. 

The  two  accounts  of  the  death  of  Judas  (Mt  27^'- 
and  Ac  1""-)  are  hard  to  reconcile  (see  Jur>.\s, 
and  art.  in  Expnsiloi-  for  .June  1904,  by  the  present 
writer) ;  but  it  is  snlfioient  to  note  here  that  liny 
are  clearly  independent  of  each  other.  The  salient 
features  of  the  Mattlia'an  tradition  are— (a)  Juilas 
stricken  with  remorse  returned  the  money  paid  to 
liim  .OS  the  price  of  his  treachery ;  (6)  he  lianged 
himself  in  despair,  nothing  being  said  as  to  the 
scene  of  his  suicide ;  (c)  the  priests  bought  Mitli 
the  money  a  field  known  as  'the  Potter's  Field,' 
which  (d)  thenceforth  was  called  dypbs  ai'/xaros,  the 
allusion  being  to  the  blood  of  Christ,  shed  through 
the  treachery  of  Judas ;  (c)  the  field  was  devoted 
to  the  purpose  of  a  cemetery  for  foreigners.  In 
Acts,  on  the  other  hand,  («)  nothing  is  said  of  a 
refunding  of  the  money  by  Judas  ;  (6)  his  death  was 
not  self  indicted,  nor  was  it  caused  by  hanging  ; 
it  is  described  as  due  to  a  fall  and  a  consequent 
nipture  of  the  abdomen  ;  (c)  the  held  was  bought 
by  Judas  himself,  and  not  by  the  priests  ;  (rf)  no- 
thing is  said  of  its  former  use  as  a  '  potter's  field,' 
nor  (e)  of  the  purpose  for  which  it  was  used  after  the 
death  of  Judas ;  (/)  the  blood  which  gave  its  name 
to  the  field  was  that  of  Judas,  by  which  it  was 
dehled,  for  {g)  the  field  Akeldama  is  identified  with 
the  jjlace  of  his  death,  a  fact  of  which  there  is  no 
mention  in  Matthew. 

The  only  point  common  to  the  two  accounts  is 
that  the  name  by  which  the  field  was  known  in 
the  next  generation  after  Jvidas'  death  was  an 
Aramaic  word  which  was  variously  rendered  dypbs 
aifmros  and  x^pioi'  ai'/taros  by  Mt.  and  Luke.  Lk. 
gives  a  transliteration  of  this  Aramaic  name ;  he 
says  it  was  dKe\5a/mx,  that  is,  he  understands  it  as 
equivalent  to  nci  Spq,  "  Field  of  Blood.'  And  d^eX- 
Safidx  is,  no  doubt,  a  possible  tran.sliteration  of 
these  Hebrew  words,  for  we  have  other  instances 
of  final  N  being  represented  by  the  Greek  x,  as, 
e.g.,  in  the  equation  ^i.pdx  =  XTP.  But  we  .should 
not  expect  a  final  x,  although  it  mi"ht  be  defended, 
if  the  last  part  of  the  Aramaic  title  were  kot  ;  the 
presence  of  x  suggests  v.itlier  that  the  Aramaic 
title  ended  with  the  letl  evs  -ct,  Ndw  it  is  remark- 
able that  TlO'!=Koi/xa£r('f"  II  I  III  I  I  I'.. /rijpioK  '  ceme- 
tery' would' be  the  f  .         i  ,,1   ,ii   !it   of  -^ai  hp,n. 

And  Klostermann  (P,  1. 1    1,      '//<;.?<<;,  p!  6  flV) 

has  suggested  that  tlii.^  «ao  loally  the  name  by 
wliich  tlie  field  was  known  to  the  native  Jews, 
and  that  we  have  here  a  corroboration  of  St. 
Matthew's  tradition  'to  bury  strangers  in'  (Mt 
27').  This  conjecture  is  confirmed  Dy  the  fact, 
which  has  been  pointed  out  above,  that' the  si;;nili- 
cance  of  the  name  '  Field  of  Blood'  was  dilleruntly 
understood  by  Mt.  and  Luke.  When  «u  have  two 
rival  explanations  offered  of  a  place-name,  it  is 
probable  that  the  name  itself  is  a  corruption  of 
some  other,  akin  in  sound,  but  not  in  sense. 

The  evidence,  then,  points  to  the  following  con- 
clusions. The  field  which  was  purchased  with  the 
wages  of  Judas  was  originally  a  'potter's  field,'  or 
pit,  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Jerusalem.  It  may 
have  been  (as  Christian  tradition  liad  it  afterwards) 
the  place  in  the  Valley  <>i  Hiiiiium  where  the 
potter  of  Jereiiii.iirs, lav  I'lusuid  his  er.ift  (.ler  18- 
19=) ;  but  of  this  llHTe  i's  no  hiiil  in  the  NT,  for  the 
reference  to  Jereiiuali  in  the  le\l  ,,f  Mt  l'7''  is  an 
inadvertence,  thepassiiL'e  ipiuted  hv  the  Mv.-ui'felist 
being  Zee  IV^.  This  'i.utl.rV  llelil '  was  n-,e,|  as  a 
burial-ground  for  straH.uer:-,  and  M.^\as  ealle.l  s-r: 
riDi  =  cce meter ium.  Withiu  half  a  century  llie  name 
became  corrupted  to  n=t  bpn  '  the  Field  of  Blood,' 
the  allusion  being  variously  interpreted  of  the 
blood  of  Christ  and  the  blood  of  Judas. 


There  is  no  good  reason  to  doubt  the  identity  of 
tlie  modern  H(tklc  cd-Dmnw,  on  the  south  bank  of 
the  Valley  of  Hinnom,  with  th<!  '  Akchlaniach'  of 
Lk.  and  the  dypbs  ai>oros  of  i\lattliew.  The  early 
pilgrims,    i-.g.    Antmiinus  (.'i7ii)   and   Arculf   (685), 


-  .t  ill.  L..'!iU'iii   ul  ..ill   ,   ■.■,.;. i_li,    liiiiui,li   inrollbisteut  with  Ac  1, 

is  r'ompatiljle  with  1\U.,  a.-^  \yA^  lieeii  pointed  out  above.  Thus 
Antoninus  places  '  Akeldemac,  hoc  est,  ager  sanguinis,  in  quo 
onines  peregrini  ecpeliuntnr'  (§  2C),  near  Siloam ;  but  the  fig- 
tree  'on  which  Judas  hanged  himself  was  shown  him  on  the 
N,E.  of  the  city  (§  17).  Arculf  seems  to  place  the  latter  upon 
the  Hill  of  Evil  Counsel  (§  IS),  where  it  is  shown  at  the  present 
day;  but  the  tradition  has  not  been  constant,  the  'elder-tree' 
of  Judas  havintr  been  pointed  out  to  Sir  J.  Maundeville  (in  lelh 


■  Absalom's  i 


The  best  descript 
the  buildings  wine 
house,  will  befouml 


if  //'(/,/.  ril-Dumm,  and  of 
main  <il  the  old  charnel 
Schick  {PEFSt, 


189'2,  p.  283 ft'.).  It  is  .luite  possible,  as  he  says 
that  this  was  once  the  site  of  a  potter's  cave  ;  and 
clay  used  to  be  taken,  up  to  quite  recent  times,  from 
a  jjlace  a  little  higher  up  the  Hill  of  Evil  Counsel. 
This  burial-place  was  much  tised  in  Crusading 
times  ;  indeed,  it  came  to  be  regarded  as  an  honour 
to  be  buried  in  Akeldama,  so  completely  were  the 
old  associations  of  horror  forgotten  or  ignored. 
J.  H.  Bernard. 

ALABASTER  (dXd^atrr/io!  or  aXd/Sao-rpw ;  in 
secular  writers  always  dXajiaarpoi  [more  correctly 
dXdSao-Tos],  though  with  a  heterog.  plur.  dXa^aarpa  ; 
in  NT  only  in  accus.,  and  only  once  with  art., 
which  is  found  in  dillereiit  MSS'in  all  the  genders 
-Tiiv,r6v,  TO  [Tisch.,  Treu.,  WH,  Meyer,  Alford 
prefer  tt);']). — The  word  oeeurs  four  times  in  the 
Gospels:  Mt26',  IMk  14"'%  Lk  7^'.  The  Oriental 
alabaster,  so  called  from  the  locality  in  Egypt  (the 
town  of  Alabastron,  near  Tell  el-Amarna)  *  where 
it  is  found  in  greatest  abundance,  is  a  species  of 
marble  softer  and  more  easily  worked  than  the 
ordinary  marble.  It  was  so  freqtiently  used  for 
holding  precious  ointment  that  dXd/iauT-pos  came  to 
be  a  synonym  for  an  unguent  box  (Theocr.  xv.  114  ; 
Herod,  iii.  20).  Horace  {Od.  iv.  12.  17)  uses  onyx 
in  the  same  way. 

In  all  three  of  the  Gospel  narratives  empha-sis  is 
laid  on  the  costliness  of  the  offering  made  to  our 
Lord.  The  ointment  was  that  with  which  monarchs 
were  anointed.  Judas  valued  it  at  three  hundred 
pence.  If  we  bear  in  mind  that  a  denarius  was  a 
day's  wage  for  ordinary  labour,  it  would  represent 
about  four  shillings  of  our  money,  and  unguent 
and  box  would  have  a  value  of  something  like  £60. 
Mary  '  brake  the  box.'  This  is  generally  inter- 
preted as  merely  meaning  '  unfastened  the  seal ' ; 
but  is  it  not  in  accordance  alike  with  a  profound 
instinct  of  human  nature  and  with  Oriental  ideas 
to  interpret  the  words  literally  ?  The  bo.x  which 
had  been  rendered  sacred  by  holding  the  ointment 
with  which  Jesus  was  anointed  \xould  never  be  put 
to  a  lower  use. 

This  incident  is  the  gospel  protest  against  phil- 
anthroph-  utilil.'irianism.  'Man  shall  not  live  by 
bre.'ul  ahine,  hut  hy  every  word  that  proceedeth  out 
of  (he  month  of  ('iod.'  We  have  here  the  warrant 
for  the  expindil  me  of  money  on  everything  that 
makes  for  the  liigher  life  of  man.  Whatever  tends 
to  uplift  the  imaginatiun,  to  ennolile  and  purify 
the  emotions,  to  rehne  the  taste,  and  thus  to  add 
to  the  spiritual  value  of  life,  is  good,  and  is  to  be 
eiie<mra;je.l.  .Icsus  claims  our  best.  He  inspires 
ns  lo  l»  .mil  .lo  o\u-  liest,  and  the  hrst-fruits  of  all 
tii(i  liiuhei  la.nllies  of  the  soul  are  to  be  devoted 
Lo  Uiiu.     Sue,  further,  art.  ANOINTING  i.  2. 

A.  Miller. 

*  The  reverse  supposition  is  possible,  that  the  town  derived 
its  name  from  the  material  (see  Encyc.  Bibl.  i.  108). 


ALEXANDER  AND  EUFUS 


AOISGIYIXG 


ALEXANDER  AND  RUFUS.— The  Synoptists  all 
record  that  the  Saviour's  cross  was  borne  by  one 
Simon  of  Cyrene.  St.  ^lark  (15-')  alone  adds  that 
he  was  '  the  father  of  Alexander  and  Ruf us.'  From 
this  ve  gather  that,  when  the  Second  Gospel  was 
Amtten,  the  sons  of  him  who  bore  tlie  cross  were 
followers  of  the  Crucified,  and  men  of  prominence 
and  note  in  the  Church.  Tliis  information  as  to 
the  two  sons  of  Simon  beinj;  Alexander  and  Rufus, 
is  also  found  in  the  Gospel  of  Nicodemus  (ch.  4). 
The  name  Alexander  appears  in  Ac  4^  19'^  1  Ti  P", 
2  Ti  4'S  but  there  is  not  the  slightest  ground  for 
identifying  any  one  of  these  with  the  Alexander  of 
Mk  15='. 

In  the  case  of  Rufus,  however,  it  has  generally 
been  considered  that  he  is  probably  the  same  as 
the  Rufus  wlio,  with  his  mother,  is  saluted  by  St. 
Paul  in  Ro  16'^  ('PoO^o^  t'ov  iKXeKrbv  iv  Kvpiu,).  And 
if  this  is  so,  it  tells  us  that  not  only  the  sons  of 
Simon  of  CjTene,  but  his  wife  also,  were  members 
of  the  Church.  Lightfoot  supports  this  view,  and 
Swete  considers  that  it  has  '  some  probability.' 
In  St.  Paul's  Epistle  to  the  Philippians,  written 
from  Rome,  occurs  a  salutation  sent  to  the  Church 
at  Philippi  from  Caesar's  household  (4~).  Lightfoot 
has  compared  the  list  of  names  of  those  to  whom 
St.  Paul  sends  greeting  in  his  letter  to  the  Romans 
(ch.  16)  with  tlie  names  in  the  lists  of  the  house- 
liold  which  occur  in  the  inscriptions,  and  on  the 
name  Rufus  he  writes  {Philippians'',  p.  176) — 

'  Rufus  is  a  very  ordinary  name,  and  would  not  have  claimed 
notice  here  but  for  its  occurrence  in  one  of  the  Gospels.  There 
seems  no  reason  to  doubt  the  tradition  that  St.  Mark  wrote 
especially  for  the  Romans ;  and  if  so,  it  is  worth  remarking 
that  he  alone  of  the  Evan^'elists  describes  Simon  of  Cyrene  as 
the  "father  of  Alexander  and  Rufus"  (lo^i).    A  person  of  this 


the  Roman  Christians ;  and  thus  there  is  at  least  fair  ground 
for  identify  ing-  the  Rufus  of  St.  Paul  with  the  Rufus  of  St.  Mark. 
The  inscriptions  exhibit  several  members  of  the  household  bear- 
ing the  names  Rufus  and  .\lexander,  but  this  fact  is  of  no  value 


In  connexion  with  Bishop  Lightfoot's  note,  it  is 
worthy  of  notice  that  in  Polycarp's  Epistle  to  the 
Philippians  (9)  we  find  Ignatius,  Zozimus,  and 
Rufus  adduced  as  examples,  with  St.  Paul  and  the 
rest  of  the  Apostles,  of  men  who  had  obeyed  the 
word  of  righteousness  and  exercised  all  patience, 
'  and  are  gone  to  the  place  that  was  due  to  them 
from  the  Lord  with  whom  also  they  suffered  ;  for 
they  loved  not  this  present  world,  but  Hijn  who 
died  and  was  raised  again  by  God  for  us.' 

In  the  Acts  of  Andrcio  and  of  Peter,  Rufus  and 
Alexander  appear  as  the  companions  of  Peter, 
Andrew,  and  Matthias,  but  no  further  information 
is  given.  J.  B.  Bristow. 

ALLEGORY. -See  Paradle. 

ALMSGIVING  (AeT/Mo.ri;.'.)).— [For  the  history  of 
the  word,  and  Jewish  teaching,  see  Ila>tinu>  /'/■' 
i.  67].  Only  on  three  occasions  does  our  l.oi.l  m 
the  NT  employ  the  word  (Mt6■-^Lk  ll'i.tnl  IJ  . 
But  these  texts  by  no  means  exhaust  His  ti'.u  liinu 
on  the  subject.  All  the  Gospels  witness  to  His 
interest  in  it.  Mk.  contains  the  incidents  of  the 
Rich  Young  Man  whom  He  told,  '  Yet  one  thing 
thou  lackest :  go,  sell  all  that  thou  hast,  and  give 
to  the  poor,  and  thou  shalt  have  treasure  in 
heaven'  (10=');  the  Widow's  Mite  (12");  and  the 
emjjhatic  praise  of  Mary  of  Bethany  (14").  Jn. 
again  exhibits  all  Christ's  miracles  as  so  many 
charities  (e.g.  2'""),  'good  works'  which  Christ 
'showed  you  from  the  Father'  (1(F);  tells  the 
Lord's  defence  of  Mary's  act  ( 12*) ;  and  drops  a  hint 
twice  over  (12*  and  13-^)  of  Christ's  own  practice  of 
giving  something  to  the  poor  out  of  His  scanty 
wallet.     But  it  is  St.  .Matthew  the  converted  tax- 

fatherer  who  left  all  and  followed  Him,  and  St. 
.uke  the  beloved  physician,  with  his  abounding 


sympathy  for  wretchedness  of  every  sort,  who  have 
preserved  to  us  the  most  numerous  and  striking  of 
His  sayings  on  the  subject. 

The  general  character  of  our  Lord's  teaching 
concerning  Almsgiving  has  been  describeti  as  in 
close  accordance  ^^■ith  the  Jewisli  thought  of  the 
time,  even  in  jjoints  where  we  should  have  least 
expected  it.  Certainly  He  endorses  and  very  much 
enhances  the  praise  of  Almsgiving  which  we  lind  in 
the  OT  (e.g.  Ps  41',  Pr  19",  Dn  4=").  But  in  deal- 
ing  with  the  teachings  of  the  Apocrypha,  which 
probably  reflect  more  closely  the  views  He  found 
prevailing,  He  discriminates.  If,  on  the  one  hand, 
He  combines  (Mt  6=-^-  '*)  Almsgiving,  Prayer,  and 
Fasting,  as  in  To  12*,  and  describes  Alm.sgiving  as 
providing  a  treasure  in  the  heavens  which  faileth 
not  (Lk  12='),  as  in  Sir  40" ;  yet,  on  the  other 
hand.  He  explicitly  condemns  (Mt  6=)  the  notion 
countenanced  in  Sir  31"  [LXX,  34"]  that  alms 
may  be  done  to  gain  a  reputation  for  piety  ;  while 
in  Mt  5^^  He  directly  contradicts  both  the  precept 
and  the  doctrine  of  Sir  12=-'  '  Give  not  to  the  un- 
godly ...  for  the  Jlost  High  hateth  sinners,  and 
will  repay  vengeance.' 

Almsgiving  is,  according  to  Christ,  a  duty  even 
towards  our  enemies,  and  those  with  whom  we 
have  little  to  do  (Mt  5^--«,  Lk  Q^-"^  \(f) ;  it  is  a 
means  whereby  we  may  conform  ourselves  to  the 
example  of  our  Father  which  is  in  heaven  (Mt  5-", 
Lk  6^) ;  it  is  the  first  exercise  of  righteousness 
(Mt  6'"^).  As  eliminating  from  our  enjoyment  of 
material  things  the  elements  of  unthankfulness 
and  selfishness,  it  is  the  true  way  to  purify  them 
for  our  use  (Lk  11").  To  obtain  the  means  of 
almsgiving,  we  may  profitably  part  with  eartlJy 
goods,  because  we  shall  thereby  provide  ourselves 
with  'purses  which  wax  not  old,'  and  raise  our 
hearts,  -with  our  treasures,  to  heaven  (Lk  12^-*'). 
In  certain  cases,  like  that  of  the  Rich  Young 
Ruler,  it  may  be  needful  for  a  man  to  sell  all  and 
distribute  to  the  poor  (Mt  19=',  Mk  10=',  Lk  18==) ; 
while  the  poor  whom  we  may  make  our  friends  by 
using  '  the  mammon  of  unrighteousness,'  for  their 
benefit,  are  able,  by  their  grateful  prayers  for  us, 
to  'receive  us,  when  it  (our  wealth)  has  faUed 
us,  into  the  eternal  tabernacles'  (Lk  16'"'*  parable 
of  the  Unjust  Steward).  Even  trifling  alms,  given 
in  the  name  of  a  disciple,  are  sure  to  be  rewarded 
(Mt  10^=).  And  surely  in  those  words  of  the  Good 
Samaritan  to  the  innkeeper,  'Whatsoever  thou 
spendest  more,  when  (not,  if)  I  come  again  I  will 
repay  thee '  (Lk  10^),  we  must  discern  the  voice  of 
our  Lord  Himself :  since  no  one  but  He  can  be  certain 
either  of  returning  (Ja  4'"),  or  of  ability  to  reward 
the  ministrations  of  love.  His  rewards,  when  He 
does  come,  will  surprise  some,  who  did  not  realize 
that  in  ministering  to  'his  brethren'  they  minis- 
tered to  Him  (Mt  2537<f).  On  the  other  hand,  for 
tlir  licli  to  indul.Lie  tlieraselves,  and  neglect  their 
|iu,ii  ii.i'jhliipui,  i--  the  way  for  them  to  Gehenna 
l.k  lii"  I  paialile  III  tho  Rich  Man  and  Lazarus) ; 
.111.1  till'  uiiii>-~ion  of  the  duty  will  be  a  ground  of 
condemnation  at  the  Last  Day  (Mt  25"). 

Other  notices,  though  less  clirect,  are  worth  con- 
sidering, e.g.  our  Lord's  injunction  to  the  Twelve, 
'Freely  ye  have  received,  freely  give'  (Mt  10'); 
His  own  compassionate  feeding  of  the  hungry 
multitudes  (Mt  14'«  15*=,  Mk  6"  8»,  Lk  9'*) ;  His 
rebuke  of  the  Rabbis'  nile,  that  when  sons  had 
rashly  or  selfishly  taken  the  vow  of  Corban,  they 
must  no  longer  be  sutt'ered  to  do  auuht  for  their 
father  or  their  mother  (Mt  15=,  Mk  "^7") ;  His  ac- 
ceptance of  the  Jews'  intercession  for  the  Gentile 
who  had  built  them  a  synagogue  (Lk  7°) ;  the  praise 
of  the  women  who  ministered  unto  Him  of  their 
substance  (8') ;  His  advice,  when  we  make  a  feast, 
to  invite  the  poor  (14'^) ;  and  the  vow  of  the  peni- 
tent ZatcIuL'Us,  '  The  half  of  my  goods  I  give  to  the 


ALOES 


ALPHA  AND  OMEGA 


^3 


poor'(iy').  Nor  may  we  omit  'the  words  of  the 
Lord  Jesus,'  quoted  by  St.  Paul,  but  preserved  liy 
St.  Luke  (Ac  202«),  '  It  is  more  blessed  to  give  than 
to  receive.' 

We  do  not  find  in  the  teaching  of  our  Lord  Him- 
self any  of  those  cautions,  \yliich  are  so  dear  to  the 
present  day,  against  excessive  ahiis;;i\in.L;  ;  though 
doubtless  St.  Paul  'had  the  mind  <>i  Christ'  (1  Co 
21S)  when  he  laid  down  his  rule,  '  If  any  man  ii-ill 
not  work,  neither  let  him  eat'  (2  Th  3'").  Not 
far,  at  any  rate,  from  this  is  His  parable  of  the 
Labourers  in  the  Vineyard  (Mt  20'-"'),  where  Jesus 
describes  God  under  the  figure  of  a  rich  and  generous 
householder  who  gives  work  and  wages  (not  mere 
alms)  to  those  w-lio  are  able  to  work,  asks  with 
surprise  of  such,  '  ^ylly  stand  ye  here  all  the  day 
idle?'  and,  on  learning  it  was  tlieir  misfortune  and 
not  their  fault,  makes  them  work  for  the  last  hour, 
yet  pays  them  a  whole  day's  wages. 

We  have  seen  how  Christ  condemns  the  doing  of 
alms  to  have  glory  of  men.  He  exposes  also  the 
ugliness  of  boasting  of  our  giving  before  God  (Lk 
18"  parable  of  the  Pharisee  and  the  Publican) ; 
insists  that  justice,  mercy,  and  truth  are  of  in- 
finitely greater  importance  than  minute  scrupulous- 
ness in  tithing,  and  lays  down  the  comprehensive 
principle  that,  however  there  may  be  opportunities 
for  us  to  do  more  than  we  have  been  explicitly 
commanded,  yet  we  never  can  do  more  than  we 
owe  to  God  :  '  When  ye  have  done  all,  say.  We  are 
unprofitable  servants :  we  have  done  that  which  it 
was  our  duty  to  do '  (Lk  17'°).  Again,  by  His  own 
example,  in  the  case  of  the  woman  of  Canaan  (Mt 
15"'"^),  He  cuts  off  another  unworthy  motive,  too 
often  active  in  our  so-called  almsgiving,  the  wish 
to  get  rid  of  a  beggar's  importunity ;  while,  both 
in  the  case  of  this  woman  and  of  her  witli  the 
issue  of  blood  (Mt  9™,  Mk  5-»,  Lk  8«),  He  shows 
by  His  OAvn  example  that  true  kindness  is  not  in- 
discriminate, but  takes  the  most  careful  account, 
not  so  much  of  the  immediate  and  material,  as  of 
the  ultimate  and  spiritual  benefit  which  may  be 
done,  by  its  assistance,  to  the  afflicted  or  the  needy. 
The  soul's  wellbeing  is  higher  than  the  body's. 
And,  of  course,  our  almsgiving,  like  all  our  works, 
is  to  be  done  in  subjection  to  the  two  command- 
ments which  are  the  standing  law  of  His  kingdom, 
that  we  love  the  Lord  our  God  with  all  our  heart 
and  all  our  mind,  and  that  we  love  our  neighbour 
asourself  (Mt22=™-P). 

Literature. — Besides  the  Comipentaries  on  passages  referred 
to,  consult  O.  Cone,  Rich  and  Poor  in  the  New  Testament, 
Win. ;  B.  F.  Westcott,  Incarnation  and  Common  Life,  195- 
•208;  A.  T.  Lyttelton,  College  and  University  Sermona,  256; 
W.  C.  E.  Newbolt,  Counsels  of  Faith  and  Practice,  '23!? ;  F. 
Temple,  Rugby  Sermons,  ;ind  ser.  7 ;  Pusey,  Sermons. 

James  Cooper. 

ALOES. — We  have  in  the  NT  only  one  reference 
to  aloes,  Jn  19^',  where  Nicodemus  brings  myrrh 
and  aloes  with  him,  when  he  joins  Joseph  of  Ari- 
raathea  in  taking  away  the  body  of  Jesus  for  burial. 
In  English,  'aloe'  is  used  to  designate  (1)  Aloe  mil- 
qari.1,  A.  spicata,  etc.,  of  the  natural  order  Lili- 
acese,  from  which  the  medicine  known  as  '  bitter 
aloes'  is  obtained;  (2)  Agave  Americana,  or 
American  aloe,  of  the  order  Amaryllidacese,  a 
plant  which  is  noted  for  its  long  delay  in  flowering, 
and  for  the  rapidity  with  which  it  at  lengtli 
puts  forth  its  flowering  stalk ;  and  (3)  AguUaria 
Agallovha,  Aq.  secundaria,  etc.,  of  the  order  Aqui- 
lariacea-,  from  which  is  obtained  the  aloes-wood 
or  eagle-wood  of  commerce.  The  substance  so 
named  is  the  result  of  disease  occurring  in  the 
wood  of  the  tree.  To  obtain  it,  the  tree  has  to  be 
split,  as  it  is  found  in  the  centre.  With  this  eagle- 
wood  are  probably  to  be  identified  the  aloes  of  the 
Bible. 

The  grounds  on  which  this  identification  rests 
are  chiefly  these:— (1)  Under  the  name  ayiXKoxov 


Dioscorides  (i.  21)  describes  an  aromatic  wood 
which  was  imported  from  India  and  Arabia,  and 
was  not  only  used  for  medicinal  purposes,  but  also 
burned  instead  of  frankincense.  Similarly  Celsius 
{Hicrobot.  i.  135  tt'.)  discusses  references  of  Arab 
writers  to  ninny  varieties  of  afjhdh'iji  found  in 
India  and  Crylon  wldcli  g.ave  off,  when  burned,  a 
s\vc?ct  fragrance,  and  which  were  used  as  a  perfume 
for  the  very  same  jiurpdses  as  those  which  'aloes' 
served  among  tlie  Jews  (Ps  45',  Pr  7",  Ca  4"). 
Quite  analogous  is  the  employment  of  aloes  for 
perfuming  the  coverings  of  the  dead  (Jn  19''-' ;  cf. 
2  Ch  le"). 

(2)  It  is  practically  certain  that  d7clXXoxoi'  and 
a'jkdluji,  and  also  the  Hebrew  D'^nx  (dhcdim)  and 
ni'?nN  (ahfduth),  are  derivatives  of  the  Sanskrit  word 
aguru,  of  wliich  the  term  'eagle-wood'  is  itself  a 
corruption.  If  this  etymology  Is  correct,  it  indi- 
cates tliat  both  the  name  and  the  commodity  were 
brought  from  the  Far  East  (cf .  ^^3,  Sanskrit  narada). 
The  Greek  dXoi;  and  our  own  '  aloe '  may  be  from 
the  same  root. 

(3)  There  was  an  aiitive  trade  in  spices  carried 
on  in  ancient  times,  not  only  through  Phconicia 
but  .also  through  the  Syrian  and  Arabian  de-serts, 
so  that  tliere  is  no  great  ditticulty  in  supposing 
that  '  aloes '  were  brought  from  India.  These  con- 
siderations seem  to  .alibrd  sutticient  ju.stification 
for  the  belief  that  eagle-wood  was  the  aloes  of  the 
Biblical  writers.  Hugh  Duncan. 

ALPHA  AND  OMEGA.— A  solemn  designation  of 
divinity,  of  Jewish  origin,  peculiar  to  the  Book  of 
Revelation.  In  Uev  1»  it  is  applied  to  Himself  by 
'the  Almighty,'  with  obvious  relation  to  Ex  3" 
(cf.  V.'')  and  Is  41-'  H'^  (for  the  LXX  rendering  of  nin- 
niN3s  by  Tra.vTOKpa.Toip,  cf.  Am  3'^  4'^).  In  Uev  21^ 
also  the  epithet  is  applied  not  to  the  Son  but  to 
the  Father,  a.s  shown  by  the  context  (cf.  verses  ^ 
'a  voice  out  of  the  throne,'  ^  'He  spake  that  is 
seated  on  the  tlirone,'  '  '  I  «ill  lie  his  t;od  and  he 
shall  be  my  son ').  In  22'-  it  is  placed  in  a  derived 
sense  (i.e.  '  I,  the  primary  ol.ijctt  and  ultimate  ful- 
filment of  God's  promise')  in  the  mouth  of  the 
glorified  Jesus.  This  transfer  of  a  Divine  title  to 
the  Son  furnishes  a  problem  of  gieat  interest  for 
the  early  development  of  Christology  ;  for,  as 
R.  H.  Charles  pomts  out  (Hastings'  DB  i.  p.  70), 
'although  in  Rev  1^  [add  21«]  this  title  is  used  of 
God  the  Father,  it  seems  to  be  confined  to  the  Son 
in  Patristic  and  subsequent  literature.' 

1.  Origin  and  Signifieancc.  —  (a)  The  simplest 
and  most  primary  use  of  this  figure,  derived  a.s 
it  is  from  the  first  and  last  terms  of  the  alphabet, 
which  with  CJreeks  and  Hebrews  were  also  those 
of  numerical  notation,  is  common  to  several  lan- 
guages. Thus  in  English  we  have  the  expression 
'from  A  to  Z.'  Schoettgen  (Hor.  Hcb.  i.  1086) 
adduced  from  Jalkut  Rubein,  fol.  17.  4,  'Adam 
transgTessed  the  whole  law  from  n  to  n '  ;  antl 
48.  4,  'Abraham  kept  the  law  from  N  to  n.'  As 
Cremer;shows(r/i(;o/.  Worterbuch,  p.  1),  this  has  no 
bearing  on  the  case  except  linguistically.  In 
Jcdktit  Rub.  1-28.  3,  God  is  said  tn  bless  Israel 
from  N  to  n  (because  Lv  !(/■•  '"  li.-iiis  with  n  and 
ends  with  n),  but  to  curse  only  Ir.mi  i  to  o  (because 
Lv  le"-"^  begins  with  i  and  ends  with  d).  E.  H. 
Charles  (I.e.)  adds  examples  of  this  (general)  use 
from  Martial  (v.  26  and  ii.  57)  and  Theodoret 
(HE  iv.  8).  ,  .   J     r 

(i)  In  the  Intpv,  more  i.liilosnpliic.il,  period  of 
Hebrew  literal ur.-  similar  .spi. ■-,,..„,  an.  applied 
to  Gou  a-  iii.liralnr  d  11 1-  oinni|'i I'-i'nce  and 
eternal 'exist.-,,.-...  i;,..l,  as  il..-  i;,-,,,,:; .;,-"»/_ whom 
all  tilings  proceed  and  l.j  »huii,  thuy  tend,  is  thus 
contrasted  in  Deutero-Isaiah  with  heathen  divmi- 
ties  (41-'  43"  [cf.  Ex  3'-']  44"  4S'-).  Here  the  be.st 
example  is    the    ^Cabbalistic  designation  of    the 


44 


ALPHA  AND  OMEGA 


ALPHA  AND  OMEGA 


Sliekinah  as  nx,  according  to  Buxtoif  = '  principiuni 
et  finis '  {Lex.  Chald.  Talm.  et  Habb. ). 

But  a  threefold  designation  of  God  as  the  Eter- 
nal is  also  employed.  The  Jerusalem  Tarrjum  on 
Ex  S"  so  interprets  the  Divine  name  ('  qiii  fnit, 
est,  et  erit,  dixit  nmndo  '),  and  the  Targ.  Jonathan 
on  Dt  32'*  ('ego  ille  est,  qui  est,  et  qui  fuit,  et  qui 
erit').  So  also,  according  to  Bousset  (ad  Rev  l-"), 
Shemoth  B.  iii.  f.  105.  2,  Midrash  Tillim  117.  2, 
Bereshith  B.  on  Dn  10"'  (the  'writing  of  nax— 
truth  =  the  seal  of  God.'  See  below).  Thus  in 
He  2'°  God  is  both  end  and  means  of  all  things  (5i' 
6V,  Sl  oB  to.  iravra) ;  in  Eo  11^^  '  Of  him,  through  him, 
and  unto  him  are  all  things' ;  cf.  Kev  1''. 

Instances  of  expressions  of  like  implication 
applied  to  the  Deity  (6  Seos),  or  to  individual 
divinities,  are  naturally  still  more  common  in 
Greek  philosophical  literature,  so  that,  as  Justin 
says  (ad  Grwcos,  xxv.),  'Plato,  when  mystically 
expressing  the  attributes  of  God's  eternity,  said, 
"  God  is,  as  the  old  tradition  runs,  the  end  and  the 
middle  of  all  things  "  ;  plainly  alluding  to  the  Law 
of  Moses.'  The  tradition  was  indeed  'old'  in 
Plato's  day,  but  there  are  many  more  probable 
sources  than  Ex  3'^  for  Plato.  We  need  refer  only 
to  the  song  of  the  Peleiadoe  at  Dodona :  Zeus  vv, 
Zeds  (uTiv,  Zei>s  ^fffffrai  (Palis,  x.  12.  5) ;  and  the 
Orphic  sayiii;^,  Zfps  trpuTos  yiv^To,  Zeus  vcttcitos 
dpx">epai'i'os,  Zci's  K((pa\ri,  Zei)s  /i^crcra,  k.t.X.  (Lobeck, 
Aglaujihtdn  h.v,  5i  1 ,  5-23,  530  f. ).  Similar  attributes 
are  applied  to  Athene  and  Asclepius  in  examples 
quoted  by  Wetstein.  Notoriously  the  Jewisli 
apologists  had  been  beforehand  with  Justin  Mar- 
tyr in  ascribing  to  Moses  the  larger  and  more 
philosophical  conceptions  of  Deity  enunciated  by 
the  philosophers ;  and  from  these  writings  of  the 
period  of  Kevelation  and  earlier  it  is  possible  to 
demonstrate  the  existence  of  a  Jewish  kcrijgma 
( formula  of  missionary  propaganda)  defining  the  true 
nature  of  the  Deity  and  of  riglit  worship,  wherein 
Is  44*^-  with  the  expression  borrowed  in  Hev  1*  2^, 
or  its  equivalent,  is  the  central  feature.  Josephus 
(c.  Apion.  ii.  190-198  [ed.  Niese]),  contrasting  the 
law  of  Moses  on  this  subject  with  heathenism, 
calls  it  'our  doctrine  (X670S)  concerning  God  and 
His  worship.'  What  he  designated  '  the  first  com- 
mandment '  is  easUy  recognizable  as  part  of  such 
a  kerygma,  and  seems  to  be  derived  from  the  same 
Jewish  apologisti  pseudo  -  Hecatjeus  (c.  60  n.c.) 
whom  he  quotes  in  c.  Apion.  i.  §  183-204,  and  ii. 
43.  It  is  traceable  already  in  the  diatribes  against 
idolatry  in  the  Ep.  of  Aristeas  (132-141)  and  the 
Wisdom  of  Solomon  (chapters  13-14).  The  Pro- 
oeraium  of  the  oldest  Jewish  Sibyl  (Sib.  Or.  v. 
7-8,  15)  has:  'There  is  one  God  Omnipotent,  im- 
measurable, eternal,  almighty,  invisible,  alone  all- 
seeing,  Himself  unseen.  .  .  .  Worship  Him,  the 
alone  existent,  the  Kuler  of  the  world,  wlio  alone 
is  from  eternity  to  eternity.'  It  appears  again  in 
Christian  adaptation  in  Ac  17"""  (cf.  14'»-i',  1  Th 
18.  io_  Ro  118.3J  -vvis  ir-a  13«- '"  14>--  -■2-^) ;  in  the 
fragment  of  the  Kerygma  Petri,  quoted  in  Clem. 
Strom,  vi.  5.  39-43  (Frags.  2  and  3  ap.  Preuschen, 
Antileg.  p.  52 :  eis  6e6s  ijTiv,  8s  apxri"  TrivTuy 
eira'ataiv  Kal  H\ovs  i^ovalav  ^xWj  k.t.\.):  in  the 
Apology  of  Aristides;  Tatian's  Oration  iv.;  Athena- 
goras.  Leg.  xiii.,  and  the  Ep.  to  Dingn.  iii.  It 
begins  in  Josephus :  on  Oebs  Ixfi  rd  ffvuTraura 
TraiTcXrjs  Kal  /iaKapios,  avris  aiiry  Kal  Trocrii'  avrapK-rfi, 
apx^l  Kal  y.i<ra.  Koi  tc'Xos  outos  tuv  wavxuv — '  He 
is  the  beginning  and  middle  and  end  of  all  things ' 
(c.  Apion.  ii.  190). 

On  the  other  hand,  the  apologetic  and  eschato- 
logical  literature,  which  Kabbinic  Judaism  after 
the  rise  of  Christian  speculation  more  and  more 
excluded  from  canonical  use,  shows  a  marked  ten- 
dency to  offset  these  heathen  demiurgic  ascriptions 
by  similar  ones  applied  not  directly  to  God  but  to 


I  a  hypostatizcd  creative  Wisdom  (Pr  8---^',  Wis  7"' 
8'  g-"-  ^  Sir  24"-  ^,  Bar  3S-3"),  or  to  an  angelic  Being 
endowed  with  the  same  demiurgic  attributes  (2  Es 
5=«-6«). 

The  statement  of  Kabbi  Kohler  (Jewish  Encycl. 
i.  p.  438)  is  therefore  correct  regarding  the  phrase 
in  Eev  1*  and  21"  if  not  in  22'^  :  '  This  is  not  simply 
a  paraphrase  of  Is  44'*  "I  am  the  first  and  the  last,  " 
but  the  Hellenized  form  of  a  well-known  Rab- 
binical dictum,  "The  seal  of  God  is  Emet,  which 
means  Truth,  and  is  derived  from  the  letters  n  D  n, 
the  first,  tlie  middle,  and  the  last  letters  of  the 
Hebrew  alphabet,  the  beginning,  the  middle,  and 
the  end  of  all  things."'  In  other  words,  we  must 
realize  tlie  metaphysical  development  of  Jewish 
theology  which  had  taken  place  between  Deutero- 
Isaiah  and  Revelation.  The  passages  adduced  by 
Kolder  from  Joma  696  and  Sanh.  64(i,  and  in  par- 
ticular Jerus.  Jeb.  xii.  13a,  Gen.  R.  Ixxxi.,  show 
the  early  prevalence  of  this  interpretation  of  Dn 
10-'  '  I  sliall  show  thee  what  is  marked  upon  the 
writing  of  truth  (nax  2033),  as  the  signum  of  God  ; 
for,  says  Simon  ben  Lakish,  "k  is  the  first,  D  the 
middle,  and  n  the  last  letter  of  the  alphabet." ' 
This  lieing  the  name  of  God  according  to  Is  44',  ex- 
plained Jerus.  Sanh.  1.  18«,  '  I  am  the  first  [having 
iiad  none  from  whom  to  receive  tlie  kingdom]  ;  I 
am  the  middle,  there  being  none  wlio  shares  the 
kingdom  with  me  ;  [and  I  am  tlie  last],  there  being 
none  to  whom  I  shall  hand  the  kingdom  of  the 
world.'  It  would  seem  probable,  however,  con- 
sidering the  connexion  with  Is  44'  ('first  and  last,' 
the  passage  is  a  commonjilace  of  early  Christian- 
Jewish  polemic),  that  the  l^abbalistic  form  nK  is 
the  earlier,  tlie  middle  term  having  perhaps  been 
inserted  in  opposition  to  Jewish  angelological  and 
Christian  cosmological  speculation.  Cf.  Rev  11" 
and  16*  with  I''  4*  ;  and  2  Es  6^'^  (where  Uriel,  speak- 
ing in  the  name  of  the  Creator,  says,  '  In  the 
beginning,  when  the  earth  was  made  .  .  .  then 
did  I  design  these  things,  and  they  all  were  through 
me  alone,  and  through  none  other :  as  by  me 
also  they  .shall  be  ended,  and  by  none  other  ')  with 
He  21". 

In  1  Co  8'  we  have  a  significant  addition  to  the 
two-term  ascription,  '  One  God,  the  Father,  of  (e?) 
«hom  are  all  things,  and  we  iinfo  (ei's)  him.'  St. 
Paul  (or  his  Corinthian  converts)  adds,  'And  one 
Lord  Jesus  Christ,  through  \\hom  are  all  things, 
and  we  through  him.'  'I'liis  addition  marks  the 
parting  of  the  ways  for  Jewish  and  Cliristian 
theology,  implying  a  mediating  hypostasis  identi- 
fied with  Christ,  that  is,  a  Wisdom-Logos  doctrine. 
That  in  Rev  P  and  21'  the  phrase  is  still  applied 
in  the  purely  Jewish  sense  to  God  the  Father  alone, 
is  placed  beyond  all  doubt  by  the  connected  ascrip- 
tions, especially  0  ibv  Kal  6  tjv  Kal  6  ^pxoficvos  (not= 
eadp.ffo!)  connecting  1*  with  I''. 

Why,  and  in  what  sense,  the  term  A-J)  is  applied 
in  Rev  22'=  by  the  glorified  Christ  to  Himself,  is 
the  problem  remaining ;  and  this  independently  of 
the  question  of  composite  authorship ;  for  to  the 
final  redactor,  whose  date  can  scarcely  be  later 
than  A.D.  95,  there  was  no  incompatibilitj'. 

(c)  Besides  the  metaphysical  or  cosmological  de- 
velopment, which  we  have  traced  in  connexion 
with  the  Divine  title  A-S2  from  Deutero-Isaiah 
througli  Wisdom  and  pseudo-Aristeas  to  its  bi- 
furcation in  Jewish  and  Christian  theology  con- 
temporary with  the  Book  of  Revelation,  we  have 
a  parallel  development  of  cschatological  character. 
Jehovali  is  contrasted  with  the  gods  of  the  heathen 
in  Is  41-»-='  42"  43»-"'  44«-'-=«  45='  469-'"  48^- ■*• '=, 
also,  and  indeed  primarily,  as  'first  and  last'  in 
the  sense  of  director  of  all  things  to  the  fulfilment 
of  His  predeclared  purpose,  i.e.  confirmcr  and  fid- 
filler  of  His  promise  of  redemption  (44').  And 
manifestly  the  development  of  this  idea  of  Jehovah 


ALPHA  AND  OMEGA 


ALPHiEUS 


45 


as  '  first  and  last '  in  the  redemptive  or  soterio- 
logical  sense,  would  be  more  congenial  to  Hebrew 
thought  than  the  metaphysical,  although  cosmo- 
logy plays  a  great  and  inci'easing  part  in  apoca- 
lyptic literature.  In  the  substitution  of  6  epxo/j.ei'os 
for  the  anticipated  6  iabusvos  in  Kev  1^  4"  (cf.  11" 
16')  recalling  Mt  IP  and  He  W,  we  have  evidence 
of  the  apocalyptic  tendency  to  conceive  of  God  by 
preference  soteriologically. 

But  the  final  redemptive  intervention  of  Jehovah 
is  necessarily  conceived  as  through  some  personal, 
human,  or  at  least  angelic  (Mai  3',  2  Es  5°")  agency, 
even  when  creative  and  cosmological  functions  are 
still  attributed  to  Jehovah  directly,  without  any, 
or  with  no  more  than  an  impersonal,  intermediate 
agency.  Hence,  while  in  Rev  \*  as  in  I''  and  21" 
Jehovah  Himself,  '  the  Alpha  and  Omega,  the  be- 
ginning and  tlie  end,'  is  also  6  epxb/j.ei'os,  there  is 
no  escape  for  any  believer  in  Jesus  from  trans- 
ferring the  title  in  this  soteriological  sense  to  Hiiu 
as  Messiah.  This  will  be  the  case  whether  his 
cosmology  requires  a  Logos-doctrine  for  demiurgic 
functions,  as  with  St.  Paul,  the  Epistle  to  the 
Hebrews,  and  the  Fourth  Evangelist,  or  not.  (The 
only  trace  of  a  true  Logos-doctrine  is  the  very  super- 
ficial touch  llev  igis").  Thus  in  Rev  1"  2^  the 
Isaian  title  '  the  first  and  the  last '  is  applied  to 
Christ,  and  in  3"  He  is  called  '  the  Amen  .  .  .  the 
beginning  of  the  creation  of  God.'  The  titles  are 
combined  in  22",  where  we  should  perhaps  render 
(Benson,  Apocali/jjse,  1900,  p.  26),  'I,  the  Alpha 
and  the  Omega  (am  coming),  the  first  and  the  last, 
the  beginning  and  the  end.'  As  Hengstenberg 
maintained  (on  Rev  1**),  'In  this  declaration  the 
Omega  is  to  be  regarded  as  emphatic.  It  is  equi- 
valent to  saying,  As  I  am  the  Alpha,  so  am  I  also 
the  Omega.  The  beginning  is  surety  for  the  end ' 
(cf.  Ph  1").  For  this  reason  it  is  perhaps  also 
better  to  connect  the  words  'Sai,  'Aixiiv  of  1'  with 
v."  'Verily,  verily,  I  am  the  Alpha  and  the 
Omega'  (Terry,  Bibl.  Apocahjpflcs,  1898,  p.  281). 

The  true  sense,  and  at  the  same  time  the  origin 
and  explanation  of  this  application  of  the  Divine 
title,  is  to  be  found,  as  before,  in  the  Epistles  of 
St.  Paul.  In  2  Co  1="  the  promises  of  God,  how- 
.soever  many  they  be,  are  said  all  to  have  their 
Yea  in  Christ.  And,  because  this  is  so,  it  is 
further  declared,  'the  Amen  is  also  through  him.' 
The  conception  that  Christ  is  thn  Amen  or  fulfil- 
ment of  all  the  promises  of  (iii.l,  as  'lii'ir  of  all 
things'  and  M'e  'joint  heirs  wil  h  him  '  (  Ko  4'-'  8", 
1  Co  3",  He  1-,  Rev  21'),  is  coni|.:ir.-aiv.'ly  laniiliar 
to  us.  It  represents  the  significance  of  the  term 
O  in  the  eschatological  application.  We  are  much 
less  familiar  with  the  idea  expressed  in  the  A, 
though  it  is  equally  well  attested  in  primitive 
Christian  and  contemporary  Jewish  thought.  In 
Pauline  language  it  represents  that  the  people  of 
Messiah  were  '  blessed  with  every  spiritual  bless- 
ing in  the  heavenly  places  in  Christ,  inasmuch  as 
God  chose  them  in  his  person  before  the  founda- 
tion of  the  world  .  .  .  and  foreordained  them  to 
be  an  adoption  of  sons,'  Eph  1^-  = ;  cf.  Is  44i-  -• ', 
Wis  18'^  He  2=-",  Rev  21',  and  the  doctrine  of  the 
apocalyptic  writers,  Jewish  and  Christian,  that 
'  the  world  was  created  for  the  sake  of  man ' — 
resp.  'Israel,'  'the  righteous,'  '  the  Church'  (As- 
samp.  Mos.  I'--"  :  L'  Es  (i^-™  7'"-  "  9'^  :  Hormas,  Vix. 
ii.  4'  etc.  Thi;  (K.i-trinc  n-sts  cm  (In  I-'''-  I's  K-"-** 
Ex  i-^  etc. ).  II  a  in:i<'  k  has  shewn  (  //I.-./,,,;/  n'f  lin,,,ini\ 
vol.  i.  Append i\  I,  'Th..  (.'u]i(:e|iti(pii  ii'l  i'li'-exisl' 
ence')  how  pre-exislence  is  tor  the  Jewisli  mind  in 
some  sense  involved  in  that  of  ultimate  persistence. 
The  heir  '  for  whom  '  all  things  ^^•ere  created  was 
in  a  more  or  less  real  sense  (according  to  the  dis- 
position of  the  thinker)  conceived  as  present  to 
the  mind  of  the  Creator  before  all  things.  Thus 
in  Rabbinic  phrase  Messiah  is  one  of  the  '  seven 


pre-existent  things,'  or  His  'soul  is  laid  up  in 
Paradise  before  the  foimdation  of  tlie  world.' 
A  pocaly ptic  eschatology  demanded  a  representative 
'Son,'  the  'Beloved,'  chosen  'in  the  beginning'  to 
be  head  of  the  '  Beloved '  people  of  '  sons '  in  the 
en<l,  with  at  least  as  mueli  logical  urgency  as 
speculative  cosmolu^^y  deiiiaiideJ  an  agent  of  the 
creation  itself.  It  is  this  « ]ii(  li  is  meant  when  St. 
Paul  says  that  '  Iicuvevei  ur.iuy  l>e  the  promises  of 
God,  tiiey  are  in  Christ  W-a,'  This  is  '  the  mystery 
which  from  all  ages  hath  been  hid  in  God  who 
created  all  things  .  .  .  according  to  the  eternal 
purpose  which  he  purposed  in  Christ  Jesus.'  In 
Pauline  language,  Christ  '  the  Beloved,'  the  '  Son 
of  his  love,'  is  tlie  Yea  and  the  Amen  of  the  pro- 
mises of  God.  Cosmologically,  He  is  the  precrea- 
tive  Wisdom,  '  the  firstborn  of  all  creation,  in 
whom  all  things  were  created'  (cf.  Kc\-  3'^,  Pr  S--). 
But  it  is  not  only  that  'he  is  l.etoiv  all  thinjs, 
and  in  him  all  things  consist'  (cf.  Sii  l'I',  Wis  |  ), 
not  only  that  '  all  things  have  been  erealeil  liuiiitijk 
him,'  but  also  eschatologically  '  loilu  him'  (Col 
1'=-";  cf.  He  1"^  and  Wis  7----'),  logically  sub- 
sequent to  Him  because  made  for  His  sake.  In 
Revelation  we  have  only  the  latter.  The  cosmo- 
logical '  through '  Him  practically  disaiipears.  It 
is  only  in  the  eschatological  sense  that  Christ  be- 
comes the  original  object  and  the  ultimate  fulfil- 
ment of  the  Divine  purpose  and  promises,  '  the 
Yea,  the  Amen,'  'the  Alpha  and  the  Omega,  the 
first  and  the  last,  the  beginning  and  the  end.' 

2.  The,  Later  Histori/.  —  It  is  doubtless  from 
Revelation  that  the  use  of  the  term  in  Patristic 
literature  and  Christian  epimaiihy  is  mainly  de- 
rived, though  its  populaiity  may  well  have  been 
lartly  due  to  oral  eiincnc  y  iii  Jewish-Christian 
circles  before  the  publiealiuu  of  Revelation.  The 
eschatological  interest  is  still  apparent  in  the 
hymn  of  Prudentius  (Cat hem.  ix.  10-12),  wherein 
the  first  line  contains  a  reference  to  Ps  45'  Vulg. 
('  Eructavit  cor  meum  Verbum  bonum  '),  treated  as 
Messianic  by  the  Fathers — 


Alpha 
Omnii 


,  flic 


(JUEeque  post  fiitura  suat.' 
But  in  Clem.  Alex.  (Sfroiii.  iv.  25  and  vi,  IC)  and 

Tertulliau    ((/.■    Jfrnm,,.    r.)    Ihe    r,,s h.-^iral     pie- 

donunates.  Ainla-.i-r  i /■.',. ■/". .//'"  ,,/  I'll  i-i.,n,,<s, 
i.  8)  presents  a,  .liilrivnl   inln  |,i  ,1  :,i  i,„i.     In  lino-i,,. 

are  unbridled.  Thus  Marcus  (17).  Irenanis,  Hur. 
I.  xiv.  6,  XV.  1)  maintained  that  Christ  designated 
Himself  A  12  to  set  forth  His  own  descent  as  the 
Holy  Ghost  on  Jesus  at  His  bai)tism,  because  by 
Geniatria  A  Ti  ( =  800  -t- 1 )  and  Trepiarcpd.  (  =  80  -f  5  + 100 
-I- 10  +  200  +  300  +  5-1- 100 -t-l)  are  equivalent. 

LlTERATlRK.— B'or  the  great  ma-is  of  Mc-r  cpmr.iphic  inateruil 
the  reader  is  referred  to  N.  Muller  iti  II.  r.c.'4  H. link's  li'<t/- 
eueifkl.  i.  pp.  l-l'J,  and  the  article  'MuMn_i    m,     h  simdi     1  I 
Cheethain's  Dicf.  0/  Chrititian  Anluiuifit.^      I 
already  cited,  articles  on  A  and  Ii  may  be  tuni   1        1 
Bible  Dictionaries  and  Enc\  clopa'dias.     IN  u  1   1     I        1  1   I 

2213  should  be  studied  in  the  critical  ennninnf  .It.  ~  "n  hi  n 
epithets  and  the  doctrine  of  hypostases  see  U.iusset.  lU'lujiuii 
lies  Judenthums,  iv.  chs.  2  and  6  (1903).  Older  monographs  jn 
J.  C.  Wolfe,  Curcn  Philolog.  et  Crit.  on  Eev  V. 

B.  W.  Bacon. 
ALPH.EUS  CAX^aios).— In  the  NT  this  name 
is  Ixirne  by  (1)  tlie  father  of  the  Levi  who  is 
cdiniiKinly  'identified  with  ISIatthew  the  Apostle 
(.Mk  -J'-")';  (2)  the  father  of  the  second  James  in 
the  lists  of  the  Apostles  (xMt  10^  Mk  3'8,  Lk  6>'', 
Ac  l'-).  The  desire  to  connect  as  many  of  the 
Twelve  as  possible  by  ties  of  natural  relationship 
has  led  some  (e.g.  Weiss)  to  identify  the  two.  But 
in  the  lists  Matthew  and  James  are  separated  by 
Thomas  in  St.  Mark  and  St.  Luke ;  and  even  in 
St.  Matthew,  where  one  follows  the  other,  there  is 


46 


ALTAR 


ALTAE 


no  note  that  they  were  brothers,  similar  to  that 
attached  to  the  names  of  the  sons  of  Zebedee. 

The  identification  of  (2)  with  the  Clopas  of  Jn 
19^  rests  on  two  hypotheses :  (a)  The  assumption 
that  as  a  Mary  is  given  as  the  mother  of  James, 
and  consequently  as  the  wife  of  Alphseus,  she 
must  be  the  same  as  Mary  the  wife  of  Clopas  who 
stood  by  the  Cross.  Jerome  {de  Pei-pet.  Virff.  v. 
16)  adopted  this  argument.  But  Maiy  is  a  name 
of  far  too  common  occurrence  in  the  NT  to  make 
this  theory  of  any  value.  ((3)  The  alleged  deriva- 
tion of  the  names  Alpha;us  and  Clopas  from  a 
common  Aramaic  original.  But  this  has  not  been 
satisfactorily  e.stablished :  there  is  even  a  lack  of 
agi"eement  as  to  the  form  of  the  original.  WH 
hold  that  its  initial  letter  would  be  n,  and  print 
'AX0a?os  accordingly  ;  but  Edersheim  quotes  the 
Babylonian  Talmud  to  show  that  the  letter  would 
be  N.  Jerome,  although  predisposed  by  his  view 
of  the  Brethren  of  the  Lord  in  favour  of  finding 
the  same  man  under  both  names,  rejects  the 
Hnguistie  identification  ;  and  the  Syriac  versions 
also  represent  them  by  difi'erent  words.  Delitzsch 
held  Alphieus  to  be  a  Grecized  form  of  an  Aramaic 
word,  but  Clopa,s  and  Cleopas  to  be  abbreviations 
of  a  Greek  name  Cleopatros  (against  this  see 
Deissmann,  Bible  Studies,  Eng.  tr.  p.  315  n.). 

Nothing  is  known  of  either  Alph^us  beyond  the 
name  ;  for  such  details  as  that  (2)  was  the  brother 
of  Joseph,  the  reputed  father  of  the  Lord,  stand  or 
fall  with  his  idcntificatioii  with  Clopas  to  whom 
they  really  beloii;;.     S,-i' :irt.  Ci.oi'AS,  l.ol.iw. 

LlTBRATUKE.  —  l.i  '  '''  •  I     the 

Lord'  in  his  Cumi  .  .  i  :   ,  '         '<i'i<iiis 

on  the  Apost.  A'l' .   i^    i  ,     'Lj,..!,   /  / .    /  -■'  ■      n>   ,  .      ',iNir.^, 
Introd.    p.    xxi;'  L.lLK,huilu,    Li./c;    a,:d    J,.,i,.i   ,J    ./.,■..    tin- 
Messiah,  bk.  v.    eh.   Ifi ;    Anili-Lws,    Lij'c    nf  ui'i-    l.nnl    n/ifu 
Earth,  114, 115  ;  Weiss,  Li/eqf  Christ,  bk.  iV.  cli.  7  lEii.-.  ti.l. 
C.  T.  DiMONT. 

ALTAR  (dmiaar-fipiov,  a  word  of  Helleni.sti(^  usiiije, 
applied  to  Je^vish  altars  as  distinguished  from 
/Su/i6s,  the  ordinary  word  for  heathen  altars  [cf. 
Ex  34«,  Nu  231,  Dt  7^  Ac  17-^]).— The  raised 
structure  on  which  sacrifices  and  oblations  were 
presented.  As  used  in  the  Jewish  ritual,  the  word 
was  applied  not  only  to  the  great  altar  of  burnt- 
ofiering  before  the  temple,  but  also  to  the  altar  of 
incense  within  the  holy  place,  and  on  ono  or  two 
occasions  even  to  the  table  of  shewbread  (cf.  Mai 
I'-i^  Ezk  41=-).  A\'hen  no  further  specification 
was  added,  it  denoted  the  altar  of  bumt-ofl'ering, 
the  altar  /car'  i^oxh"- 

The  Jewish  altar  of  Christ's  day  was  the  last 
term  of  a  long  development,  the  history  of  which 
remains  still  in  many  points  obscure.  In  the 
primitive  Semitic  worship  it  seems  that  no  altar, 
properly  speaking,  was  in  use ;  unless  we  choose  to 
give  that  name  to  the  sacred  stone  or  pillar  beside 
which  the  victim  was  slain,  and  on  which  the  blood 
or  fat  of  the  sacrifice  was  smeared  (cf.  1  S  14^^  6'^- ", 
1  K  V).  In  such  cases  the  victims  were  slain  (or 
slain  and  burnt),  not  on  the  sacred  stone,  but 
beside  it.  No  doubt  the  significant  part  of  the 
ofi'ering  lay  in  the  smearing  of  the  stone,  which 
was  more  or  less  identified  with  the  Deity  (On 
281"""),  and  might  thus  be  considered  as  both  altar 
and  temple.  Later  the  burning  of  the  victim  came 
to  be  an  integral  part  of  the  ceremony,  and  the 
hearth  of  burning  acquired  more  importance.  The 
hearth  was  originally  the  bate  ground,  or  a  rock 
( Jg  6'-"  IS'"- "'),  but  later  it  was  artificially  formed. 
In  the  earliest  law  (Ex  20^-^)  it  was  jnest^riln-.i 
that  the  altar  should  be  of  earth,  or  of  unhcw  u 
stone,  and  be  made  without  steps,  evidently  a  rmn 
sion  to  a  simpler  custom  than  prevailed  in  many  ■! 
the  Canaanite  altars,  or  in  the  altars  of  the  liil 
j)laces.  That  the  stone  was  not  to  be  hewn  id  i\ 
also  be  connected  with  the  primitive  idea  that  I  li> 
deity  which  inluibited  the  .stone  might  l:>e  oll'cnckil 


or  injured  by  the  dressing.  Tliese  regulations 
were  respected  in  a  modified  degree  in  the  building 
of  the  altars  of  the  temple  at  Jenisalem.  The 
altar  built  by  Ahaz,  on  an  Assyrian  model,  was 
probably  designed  in  total  disregard  of  the  early 
pre.scri2)tions  ;  but  the  later  altars  endeavoured  to 
conform  somewhat  to  the  original  ideal.  Thus 
the  altars  of  the  second  temple  —  both  that  of 
Zerubbabel  and  that  built  by  Judas  Maecabaeus — 
were  built  of  unhewn  stone.  In  all  probability 
there  were  steps  up  to  the  altar  of  the  first  temple  * 
(cf.  the  altar  of  Ezekiel's  vision  [43"],  which  had 
steps  on  the  eastern  side) ;  but  the  altars  of  the 
second  temple  were  ascended  by  means  of  a  gradual 
acclivity. 

The  altar  of  Herod's  temple,  thougli  larger  than 
all  former  altars,  preserved  their  main  character- 
istics. It  stood  in  front  of  the  temple,  in  the  inner- 
most court.  It  was  built  of  unhewn  stone  ;  no  iron 
tool  was  used  in  its  construction.  In  this  the 
letter  of  the  law  in  Exodus  was  adhered  to,  while 
its  evident  intention  was  evaded.  A  new  inter- 
pretation of  the  law  against  the  use  of  hewn  stone 
was  given  by  Jewish  tradition  in  the  words  of 
Johanan  ben  Zakkai :  '  The  altar  is  a  means  of 
establishing  peace  between  the  people  of  Israel  and 
their  Father  in  heaven ;  therefore  iron,  which  is 
used  as  an  instrument  of  murder,  should  not  be 
swung  over  it.'  The  altar  was  of  huge  dimensions. 
According  to  Jo.sephu3  (BJ  V.  v.  6)  it  was  15  cubits 
high  and  50  cubits  square  at  the  ba.se ;  according 
to  the  more  reliable  tradition  of  the  Mishna, 
which  enters  into  precise  details,  it  was  32  cubits 
square  at  the  base  and  correspondingly  less  in 
height.t  Like  the  earlier  altars,  it  rose  up  in  a 
serir.s  (if  tcrrnccs  nr  sla'ji's,  (■(inliiictini;  :it  irregular 
iiitiTVHls.  (Thr  lirst  l.imliii-  h ;is  a  cul.it  froiu  the 
unmnd,  iin.l  a  .-ul.il  in  l.iv.-uUli;  \<liilr  .^.  cubits 
iii,i;lier  ciiim-  .-i  s.rcul  landin,-).  The  Inurth  on  the 
top  still  measured  24  cubits  in  lenijth  and  breadth. 
The  altar-hearth  was  made  accessible  to  the  mini- 
stering priests  by  a  structure  on  the  south  side, 
built  in  the  form  of  a  very  gradual  acclivity,  and 
making  a  pathway  32  cubits  Ion"  by  16  broad. 
Beside  this  main  ascent  were  small  stairs  to  the 
several  stages  of  the  altar.  Round  the  middle  of 
the  entire  altar  ran  a  red  line  as  an  indication 
to  the  priest  when  he  sprinkled  with  blood  the 
upper  and  lower  parts  of  the  altar.  At  the  south- 
west comers  of  the  hearth  and  of  the  altai-'s  base 
were  openings  to  carry  ofl'  the  wine  of  the  drink- 
offerings  or  the  blood  sprinkled  on  the  side  of  the 
altar.  These  ojienings  led  into  a  subterranean 
canal  which  connected  with  the  t^idron.  At 
the  corners  of  the  altar-hearth  were  projections, 
called  horns.  The  supposition  that  the.se  were  a 
survival  of  the  time  when  the  victims  were  slain 
as  well  as  burnt  on  the  altar,  ami  rei|uired  to  be 
Iwund  upon  the  hearth,  ha,^  .i(  1(  a  t  thr  lecom- 
mendation  of  simplicity  ;  hut  u  ,ti ,  rl\  ,  xplains 
the  peculiar  sacretlness  attaclaM  li  il'  alia}  horn.s, 
or  the  imiwrtant  part  they  lia.l  in  ih'-  iiiual  (IK 
Pi  22»,  Lv  8"  93  16"*;  in  ci'il.ain  ca.M^s  tliey  were 
sprinkled  with  blood,  K>:  -".»'-,  l.v  4').  The  ex- 
planation given  by  Stadc  and  c .( hii  s  connects  them 
with  the  worship  of  .lahweh  as  symbolized  by  a 
young  bull.  Northward  from  the  altar  was  the 
place  of  slaughtering,  with  rings  fastened  in  the 
ground,  to  which  the  animals  were  tied  ;  it  was 


A]maze:\iext 


AMAZEMENT 


provided  also  with  pillars  and  tables  for  purposes 
of  hanginfi,  flaying,  and  washing.  The  temple, 
together  with  the  altar  and  the  place  of  slaughter, 
were  separated  from  the  rest  of  the  inner  court  by 
a  wall  of  partition,  a  culjit  high,  to  mark  oil'  the 
part  reserved  for  the  priests  from  that  free  to 
Israelites  generally. 

On  this  great  altar  the  fire  was  kept  burning 
night  and  day  ;  it  was  the  centre  of  the  Jewish 
ritual.  On  it,  morning  and  evening,  was  offered 
the  daily  burnt-oHering  in  the  name  of  the  people, 
accompanied  with  meal-oH'erings  and  drink-offer- 
ings. On  the  Sabbaths  and  during  the  festival 
days,  the  public  offerings  were  greatly  augmented. 
Still  more  vast  was  tlie  number  of  private  .sacri- 
fices which  were  offered  day  by  day ;  and  on  the 
festival  days,  when  Jerusalenr  was  crowded  with 
worshippers,  thousands  of  priests  officiated,  and 
the  great  altar  was  scarcely  sufficient  to  burn  the 
masses  of  flesh  that  were  heaped  continuously 
upon  it. 

The  altar  of  incense,  or  the  golden  altar,  stood 
within  the  Holy  Place.  It  was  of  very  modest 
dimensions,  and  was  used  chiefly  for  the  offering 
of  incense,  which  took  place  twice  daily,  in  the 
morning  before  the  burnt-oft'ering,  and  in  the 
evening  after  it. 

Besides  an  incidental  mention  of  the  altar  (Mt 
23^^,  Lk  IP'),  there  are  two  pregnant  sayings  of 
Christ  in  the  Gospels  where  the  altar  is  concerned. 
In  the  first  (Mt  S'^-  ^)  He  opposes  to  the  mere  e.\- 
temalism  of  the  altar-worship  the  higher  claims  of 
brotherhood,  teaching  that  what  God  reciuires  is 
mercy  and  not  sacrifice.  In  the  otlR^r  (Mt  23"*-=") 
He  exposes  the  puerility  of  the  ilistinction  made, 
in  swearing,  between  the  altar  and  the  gift  upon 
it.  It  was  by  such  miserable  casuistry  that  the 
scribes  and  Pharisees  evaded  the  most  solemnly 
assumed  obligations. 

Literature. — Benzinger's  and  Nowack's  Heh.  Arch,  (Index, 
s.v.  'Altar');  Josephus,  BJ  v.  v.  6,  and  c.  Apimi.  i.  22;  Jlishna, 
Middoth  iii.  1-4  ;  Schenkel,  Bibellexicon,  '  Brandopferaltar ' ; 
Lightfoot,  The  Temple  Service  ;  Schurer,  HJP  ii.  i.  24  ;  VVell- 
hausen,  Prolegomena  ('  Die  Opfer'),  and  Beste  des  A  rab.  Ueiden- 
thmns'^,  101  f.  ;  W.  R.  Smith,  RS  (Index,  s.v.  'Altar');  Perrot 
and  Chipiez,  Bistoire  de  I' Art  (Eng.  tr.,  sections  on  Phtenicia 
and  Judaea).  See  also  Lightfoot  (J.  B.),  '  Essay  on  the  Chr. 
Ministry'  in  Pkil.  pp.  251,  261,  265,  and  in  D/sscrtofions,  pp. 
217,  229,  234 ;  Westcott  (B.  F.),  Hebren'S,  pp.  453-461. 

J.  Dick  Fleming. 
AMAZEMENT.— The  interest  of  this  word  to 
students  of  the  Gospels  is  twofold,  and  arises  out 
of  its  employment,  on  the  one  hand,  as  one  of  the 
terms  used  to  express  tlie  effect  upon  the  people 
of  our  Lord's  supernatural  manifestation,  and  on 
the  other,  in  one  unique  instance,  to  describe  an 
emotion  which  tore  the  heart  of  the  God-man 
Himself. 

The  nominal  form,  'amazement,'  is  of  rare  occurrence  in  EV 
(only  Ao31»,  1  P  36 [for  TTi^o-,,-]  in  A V  ;  Jlk  SJ^,  Lk  4^6  5=6,  Ac  310 in 
RV);  the  passive  verb,  'to  be  amazed,'  occurs  not  infrequently 
in  the  narrative  books  of  NT  (rarely  in  OT,  e.g.  Ex  1515).  xhey 
are  especially  characteristic  of  the  Synoptic  Gospels,  and  are 
currently  employed  in  their  narratives,  along  with  several  kin- 
dred terms,  to  describe  the  impression  made  by  our  Lord's 
wonderful  teaching  and  His  miraculous  works.  In  the  AV  they 
translate  In  these  narratives  a  number  of  Gr.  words:  HifA^o;, 
)cdx^i3iofAxi  ;  txiTTxtnt,  i^a-ToifjMt  ;  lxT>^r,cff6,uMK  But 
;  EV,  studying  greater  uniformity  of  rendering,  omits  ixTX-f.ir- 
irofjMi  from  this  list,  and  makes  '  amazement,' '  to  be  amazed,'  the 
stated  representatives  of  the  other  two  groups  [exceptions  are  : 
Mk  168  where  s«£rT«iri,-  is  rendered  'astonishment';  Ac  3iof- 
where  fla/A^o?,  ly.Qx.jj.&oi  are  represented  bv  '  wonder  ' :  passages 
like  Mk  3'-ii,  2  Co  S",  and  again  Ac  10i«  Ills  o^"  are,  of  course, 
not  in  question].  To  lxT\r,ircrof^xt  it  uniformly  assigns  'aston- 
ish,' *  astonishment ' ;  and  to  the  accompanying  terms  of  kin- 
dred implications  similarly  appropriate  renderings  :  to  Bxv^ocZai 

''-° ''      ""■  '"'■"  generally  'to  marvel'  (but  'to  wonder,' 

'-^1,  also  Ac  7^1),  and  to  tpoi3iofx,a 


(.ixBxufi. 

Mtl631,  Lk  218  4-*^  •241'^ 
1426,  Mk  4J1,  Lk  5-^0  71t 
Mk  108,  ^,,-„„  Jill  r.-3, 


™  Mt  H*,  Mk  65",  T,.iM« 
S")  '  to  be  afraid,'  varied  to  '  to  fear.' 
in  the  Synoptic  narrativ 


another  of  these  terms  as  a  comment  upon  the  effect  of 
Lord's  teaching  or  works,  imparts  to  the  reader  a  vivid  sense 
of  the  supernaturalness  of  His  manifestation  and  of  the  deep 
■ '  h  it  made  as  such  on  the  people. 


Sometimes  it  appears  to  have  been  the  deme 
or  bearing  of  our  Lord  which  awoke  wonder  or 
struck  with  awe  (Mt  27"  ||  Mk  15^  Mk  9'^  lO^^ . 
cf.  Lk  2^8).  Sometimes  the  emotion  was  aroused 
rather  by  the  tone  of  His  teaching,  as,  with  His 
great  '  I  say  unto  you'  He  'taught  them  as  hav- 
ing authority,  and  not  as  the  scribes'  (Mk  V^  \\  Lk 
4^2,  Mt  7-' ;  cf.  Mk  1 1'8,  Mt  22^\  At  other  times  it 
was  more  distinctly  what  He  said,  the  matter  of 
His  discourse,  that  excited  the  emotions  in  question 
— its  unanticipated  literalness,  or  its  unanticipat- 
able  judiciousness,  wisdom,  graciousness,  or  the 
radical  paradox  of  its  announcements  (Lk  2"-  ■•* 
i~;  Mt  13=^  II  Mk  6=;  Jn  7'^^ ;  Mt  19'^5  ||  Mk  10="; 
Mt  22=2  II  Mk  12",  Lk  20=«).  Most  commonly,  how- 
ever, it  was  one  of  His  wonderful  works  which 
brought  to  the  spectators  the  dread  sense  of  the 
presence  of  the  supernatural  (Lk  5' ;  Mk  1^  ||  Lk 
436 .  Ml-  ovi  II  Lii  5*^  sit  98 ;  Lk  7'«  11"  ||  Mt  12** ; 
Mt  8"  II  Mk  4«,  Lk  8'-^ ;  Mk  5'=  ||  Lk  8^=-^' ;  Mk 
530. 33. 42 II  Lk  8^'^ ;  Mt  9'«  ;  Mk  6''' ;  Jn  6'"  ||  Mt  14*  ; 
Mk  7" ;  Lk  9« ;  Mt  21=»),  and  filled  the  country 
with  wonder  (Mt  lo^'). 

The  circle  att'ected,  naturally,  varies  from  a 
single  individual  (Mk  5^^),  or  the  few  who  happened 
to  he  concerned  (Lk  2-'s  5^),  or  the  body  of  His 
immediate  followers  (Mt  17^  Mk  lO^^-^^,  Mt  19=^ 
2I-"),  up  to  a  smaller  or  larger  assemblage  of  spec- 
tators (Lk  2"  422 .  Mk  V"- 11  Lk  432 ;  Mk  r-'  II  Lk  43"; 
Mk  2'^  Lk  71"  825- ",  Mk  5^=,  Mt  13-'«,  Mk  6^' ;  Jn 
6'»  II  Mt  14=«,  Mk  6=» ;  Mk  7=',  Lk  9«,  Mk  16' ;  Mt 
22'!2  II  Mk  12",  Lk  SO^").  These  spectators  are  often 
expressly  declared  to  have  been  numerous :  they 
are  described  as  '  the  multitudes '  or  '  all  the  multi- 
tudes,' 'all  the  people  of  the  country,'  or  quite 
generally,  when  not  a  single  occasion  but  a  sum- 
iiultitudes ' 


Mk  8»;  Mt  9^  153',  Mk  9'^  Jn  7'^  Mk  11 


Mt 


The  several  terms  employed  by  the  Evangelists  to 
describe  the  impression  on  the  people  of  these  super- 
natural manifestations,  express  the  feelings  natural 
to  man  in  the  presence  of  the  supernatural.  In 
their  sum  they  leave  on  the  reaih'r's  mind  a  very 
complete  sense  of  the_  reality  and  .Ici.lli  (if  the 
impression  made.  Their  detailid  m  ihhin  my  is  not 
always,  however,  perfectly  ck'ar,  'I'lir  .~i  mliiit  will 
find  discriminating  discussions  .jf  the  (wn  groups 
of  terms  which  centre  resiicriixcly  ar.nuid  the 
notions  of  'wonder'  and  'fear  in  .1.  II  ilriiirich 
Schmidt's  well-known  Synonyniil:  tin-  (/i-ochixc/ien 
Sprache,  at  Nos.  168  and  139.  It  will  probably  suHice 
here  to  indicate  very  briefly  the  fundamental  impli- 
cation of  each  term  in  its  present  application. 

9a[>/i«?iu  is  a  broad  term,  primarily  expressing  the  complete 
engagement  of  the  mind  with  an  object  which  seizes  so  power- 
fully upon  the  attention  as  to  compel  exclusive  occupation  with 
it.  It  is  ordinarily  used  m  a  good  sense,  and  readily  takes  on 
the  implication  of'' admiration';  but  it  often  occurs  also  when 
the  object  contemplated  arouses  internal  opposition  and  dis- 
pleasure. What  it  always  implies  is  that  its  object  is  remark- 
able, extraordinary,  beyond  not  so  much  expectation  as  ready 
comprehension,  and  therefore  irresistibly  engages  a'""  ' 


It  does  not  'mport 
jou  vv  11  03  tj      or  bette 

separat  s    ts  If  fro      6xu.     lco. 


surpr'se  '  but  rather  if 
■     ths    t 


ch  n  ore  1  t  «^«       Tl  _ 

le  ai  pi  ed  to  any    derangen  ent    loll 
larly  empIo>ed       th  or  w  tho  t  a  d  1 


A:^rAZE^IENT 


AMBASSAGE 


■"■The  same  tundaroental  ,emj 


of  fear  which  finds  its  most 
°nre  "rely  given  expression 
l,i~»l  implication  of  which  is 

nWo  1"  ~ii  11  I' 1"- ',,  into  the 'disquietude,  on 

••v'it  aiiiu;  -1"  ruu-l'iiti"".  I';*"'  '-       ,  .K^,  ^.,;ti-eme  of  which  is 
the  ,.,u-  i-iae.ui  tliiii  ■ll■o^ll^ll^^^ylO  ^'^^^^  .^^^^  ^^^j  terrified 

f  ^SSSrnali^n"  whi^^Tfind^^  Stf  I^Zc^^SJ  *e"rS^ 
ri  k  "4-!^l  ■  or  as  Tfiu»,  which  m. >ts,appiiuiu  notions 

S'^h-e'  inina-W  •iroSi;^''"'"'"''  -^"^"^ 
nf '  anxiety    and   horror 


^'!n  studying  the  eniotionanife  o^nr^rcVs  human^^^t 

rra^'er^otSnlT-^r^^^^^^^^^ 

?;^-S^SH^^wS^El|5«5-e  ai^e^  m  t^ 
lives  of  mere  men  bo  f"  J;^  \,,  ^ ,,  that  the  unexpected 
Evangelic  narratives  go,  "- ^^Z?"' '  ,uj,,ri^e,  nor  astonishment. 
„ever°happened  to  ^f  "^- J^,'3^"''no  e  nbai^assment,  nor  per- 
nor  amazement,  nor  suspense    nor  v,oTds,  attributed 

plexity,  nor  d'stroftion,  i»  e^er  i  j  narratives,  never- 

to  Him.  Those  ''»'°  r"!^„J^si°ng  that  He  mayhave  expen- 
theless,  some  ground  for  supposing  in^  ^^_^  CondidOTW  o/ 
enced  these  emotions  .!7-  A.  ^.^^  ^  Adamson.  Studies 
our  Lords  Life  on  hartU,  pp.  l«-\~'.  (j  ;„  its  extremity, 
7 the  MM  '»/ '"■">Vj;P-on whiVSesSem Pre>byt^^;ia» 
E.  A.  Abbott,  ^'"'r"-"'''''?;  °ent  Apocm>halGospels,-p.  733ff.), 
,  Review,  Oct.  l^s>,  V'0"«  Kf^-^^^^JXTn^^^  the  inconclusive- 
must  needs  'l>l";;'«l^™^='"„'"'^t„div  pointed  out  of  "W.  ?«•  J°J 


"■  The  emotions  sigx^ized^  ^^-^Z^^l'u 
xviU  te  seen,  run  t>"f^f,[;^\„„"an  spirit  in  the 

nton  renSering  'amaze       amazetne^ 

these  groups  of  terms  C^^.'^f^^^^  scarcely 

;.ea;.p^o^.,  '^"t-^["/'^iSive   implications  of 

-tl^.^':^^aMUa^^eel^m.- 

of  deeper  conceptions  is  greatly  ^^^_^^  ^^  ^,^^        ,, 

-^i^ni^^^-IS-S;::^^ 

(dSijMo.;"'').  St-  ?1-"^'  hJ  •I'e-^^n  to  1.,.  u.eiitl> 
says  (in  the  1'^)  ''•;\^,\  ....e  truul.l.-.l  ii4i. 
amazed  (^-:«aM;3jca<'«0  ^''^^„.,^,^x  '  howevov,  uii-e 
Surely  the  «nd^""^  '^"ft  ^  ^'ord,  as  a  paralk 
the  mark  here -.tlte  note  ot.  ■„,      ti.at   of 

to  dS,^o.a.  •J"'^,„^^!f  "^^"^ness,  and  the  commen- 
anguish  not  of  »aexpecu;u        ,  , 


example.  1  -    v 
reniarlvs  iii'    i 
oftheOT. 

'  Wondrr'  (AN   ;  1.  > 
to  Jesus  on  ivm'  i,*^^ 

•hich  least  of  all  "impli 


,    ,     i'niiM.  Ma,.~ 

.iliility  tothe  anthro] 

,..  „nin<v-)  to  be  sure,  is  attributed 
,^  V«th  occasions  Precisely  that  one 
St  o.  au  ..,.,...  • -'n>rise,- which  dec^es.>W0^«t 
;a{k«-extraordinary  than  unexpeded.  e^^^^ 
^o?':t'ilK"i'nd1s^disl!nru^he/fr»«««^=-;j;,^^^^^^ 
rSrSS/^^^"el^d':;j  ui;,;}..  tU.^oase  of  .^;^ 
tlie  extraordinary  nature  ot  "'\,  '  ^-;i,|^.,„„,is  of  the  occur- 
8«u3!7,  it  is  the  unexpi'  t.  tin-  -  •  _^  ,„.«ses  is  that  the 

rence.'    Allthatm  ■'   ' '""    '  _,|,,',  ,,mi.rkable  ;  and 

circumstances  adv.  I :     i  ,  their  remark- 

that  Jesus  reco'^i 


>i --v-."""^ 

stances  which  c; 

situations  He  renuut 


tthe. 


nine- 


cognStes,  seems  Jeei^i.-ely  *» 

it  which  will  emphasize  no*  \"Y 

of    our  Lord's  experience,    I "ti  ^^.^^j 

:„d  will  attribute  ^^^JX^,"^^  ''^"^'"'=^'^ 
occasion,  therefore,  not  ^"'^P^^=''^^ .  (j.  a.  Alex- 
•^"1  n'-^vLKreiv^Ue'-'e  ■  (Lete). 

emotions  which  are  c^If"  =  "'  ^^.^  excellent  note  on  "k 
less  hum  in  «r"-'  '-  '  ,  ,'^-  But  certainly  the  employment  of 
810  and  -  .    ■    -      1  M     •   >■     ''^^  j,„t  affords  no  wa^!"  '°' 


ioipatci  ty  our  Lord, 
ituations  tie  '""■•"r -'^  struck  Him  with  a  shock  of  sur- 
;fse\'w"a/e'=n:rtoir"'BEKJAMIN  B.  WAKFIELD. 
AKBASSAGE.-This  te.jn  is^used  in  LV^^^^^^ 

and  RV)  ^V"  J;^^^!.^*"  The  Greek  is  xpe.^^la. 
instead  of  AV    "e^^ge  K  translation   the 

,■"» ^'-' ;-;"•"-■""■    '■  ■;-  .SS 

'  ",;':  M.iirds. 

"  "  ■ '  ,  .-iiher 

I  ","'."  i'  ..     :  "i/f  by 

"nn^  the  "second.'     An  alternative 
uoth  forms  are  obsolete,  being  sup- 

5p.lii:i.       -  ^  I  ,  air«t  equivalent  of  ainbansade. 

"'""  "'n     u=«-=^  .Te-.us  is  speaking  of  discipleship 
in   Lk   U  'jif  in,}  of  entire  surrender  to 

and  the  necessaaT  cond^ion  of  enti^  ^  ^Uustration 
spiritual  authority.     Ana  ne  entering  on 

tie  parable  winch    eacl,est.hefo^^  ^  ^  ,^ 


Lnsemtti'c  »«  •- 
ininMii-  .1.  1. IS  it  it  consisted  ......r-r-; 

pectati.ii  1  1    111  ^'^^'laent  upon  discovering, It  to  be  worse 


who  has  provoked  ^ J^'^^,^  ^  .^e  for  pewe- 
clo  well  to  send  an  aml>ag^=«  i^^^e  /orce  of 

peace  without  '«'°°'f  Vo^^UlSd  and  overcome 
character  is  not  able  t^^^ithswna  ^^  ^^^^^ 

the  worldly  o^«.t'^«l^?;,X\x^rldW  powers.     He  is 
make  compromise  with  tl'e  >^"  '''Yfot  other  inter- 
not  lit  for  the  kingdom  o    Gfcomnrentators). 
pretations  see  Trench  and  the  Conime  ^^ 

^   The  second  occurrence  Lk  19   >  art?>vhicl.  bears 
of  the  Pounds  ;  not  in  t  f  'nam  p     ^j  ^^^  i„ 

resemblance  to  tl'e  paraUe^f  the  ^a  ^  ^^^^. 
one  of  two  verses  y v .  >  ^tii  ^J^J^^g  servants  of  the 
aspect  of  the  situation  J;]i»^^^  tj^^^  carrying  out 
distant  difeTiitary  are,  "»^^»„«Xni?ies,  a  sIctiSn  of 
1  instructions  an^  using  "WO^^^^'l' thority.  To 
his  subjects  resolve  to  cast  o  ^^^  ^.^^^^^^^ 

I  this  effect  they  send  an  embas.sy. 


AMBITION 


AMEJ^r 


lie  rewards  the  faithful  and  executes  punishment 
on  tlie  disloyal.  The  application  is  to  the  Second 
Coming  of  the  Lord. 

The  term  Trpcir^cia  (from  irpia^v^,  'old')  belongs 
to  classical  Greelc,  and  it  contains  an  expression  of 
the  rule  that  responsible  duties  of  statecraft  are 
naturally  entrusted  to  approved  elders  and  heads 
of  families.  St.  Paul  uses  the  corresponding  verb 
in  2  Co  5-",  where  he  describes  the  Christian 
preachers  as  'ambassadors  for  Christ,'  and  in 
Eph  6^"  the  idea  is  repeated.  Perhaps  we  may- 
connect  the  occurrence  of  7rpf(T/3eia  in  the  Third 
Gospel  with  St.  Luke's  apparent  preference  of 
'  presbyter '  to  '  bishop'  (Ac  20"),  and  his  repeated 
use  of  prcshjtcrion  for  the  body  of  Jew  ish  elder;; 
(Lk  22"'',  Ac  4^  22").  For  the  teims  are  exjirL-ssive 
of  dignity,  and  in  St.  Luke's  literary  style  a  sense 
of  dignity  is  clu.-u  ly  shown. 

It  is  further  milable  that  commentators  are  able 
to  refer  tlie  .siiuuc^tion  of  both  these  parables  to 
contemporary  liistory.  The  former  corresponds 
with  the  struggle  between  Antipas  and  his  father- 
in-law,  Hareth,  king  of  Arabia;  the  latter  is 
illustrated  by  Herod,  by  Archelaus,  and  by  Anti- 
pas,  each  of  whom  went  to  liome  to  obtain  an 
enhancement  of  power.  But  details  apply  to  the 
case  of  Archelaus,  who  put  his  friends  in  command 
of  cities,  and  against  whom  the  Jews  sent  to  the 
emperor  an  embassy  of  fifty  men  (Jos.  Ant.  xvil. 
xi.  1).  K.  Scott. 

AMBITION.— The  word  'ambition'  is  not  found 
in  the  AVor  RV,  but  tlu;  prnjirasity  signified  is, 
of  course,  repivscTiti-.l  in  (he  N.w  'iVv^tament.  Its 
derivation  is  L;iti)i  [muhi,  •  al">ul ,' and  ire,  itum, 
'to  go'],  nieanm-  a  ,i,„,i,i  ahuul  m  all  directions, 
especially  with  a  view  to  rulk-ctiiig  votes.  It  thus 
means  to  have  such  a  di-sii-e  as  to  inake  one  go 
out  of  one's  way  to  satisfy  it,  and,  in  a  secondary 
sense,  denotes  the  object  which  arouses  such  desire 
and  effort.  As  a  psychological  fact.  Ambition  may 
be  defined  as  a  natural  .spring  of  action  which 
makes  for  the  increment  of  life.  Ethically  speak- 
ing, it  takes  its  colour  from  the  object  towards 
which  it  is  directed.  In  ordinary  use  it  implies 
blame  ;  but  in  true  Christianity,  where  the  utmost 
is  given  for  the  highest,  it  is  otiierwise. 

In  the  Epistles  the  verbs  5(ii^-u>,  ffTroi^Sdfu,  fj/T^cj 
are  used  figuratively  for  this  propensity  (Ph  3'-, 
2  P  3",  Ro  10^) ;  but  perhaps  a  nearer  synonym  is 
'{ifKou)  with  its  corresponding  substantive  ^tjXos  (as 
in  1  Co  14'- 12- 39,  cf.  Weymouth's  NT  in  Modern 
Speech),  though  f^Xos  in  a  good  sense  is  generally 
translated  'zeal,'  and  in  a  bad  sense  'jealousyj' 
both  words  being  of  rather  broader  significance 
than  'ambition.' 

It  is  in  accordance  with  the  literary  character- 
istics of  the  Gospel  narratives  that  such  an  abstract 
idea  as  ambition  can  be  found  only  under  some 
picturesque  phrase,  e.g.  'lamp  of  the  body'  (Mt 
^^■■^),  'food'(Jn  4").  'To  cut  oft' the  right  hand' 
or  '  to  pluck  out  the  right  eye '  is  the  expression 
used  by  our  Lord  for  destroying  one's  dearest 
ambition,  whether  it  is  controlling  one's  energies 
or  directing  one's  imagination  (Jlk  Q-*''-,  cf.,  as 
Trench  points  out,  the  use  of  dd>0a\al)s  irov-npis  FMt 
6=M\Ik  7=^1  for 'envy').  ^'^     ^ 

But  although  there  is  no  explicit  reference  to 
Ambition  in  the  NT,  it  is  .so  characteristic  a  fact 
of  human  nature  that  a  large  jiart  of  the  teaching 
of  Christ  might  be  exbibitod  in  relation  to  iL 
And  because  it  is  capaMi'  of  lieini:  '"ut  tuw.ards 
lofty  as  well  as  sinister,  cr  al  Ira^i  -^  lli,li  emls. 
Christian  ethics  seems  Imm  ,,iie  ]».iiii  ..I  \  iew  to 
be  the  exaltation  of  AniliUiun,  fi..ni  an.jther  its 
deposition. 

1.  For  Ambition.— C\msVi  method  was  to  use 
the  fact  of  Ambition  and  purify  it  by  exercising 

VOL.  I.— 4 


it  on  the  highest  objective.  The  call  to  the  first 
disciples  was  an  appeal  to  their  ambition  for  a 
higher  life :  '  Follow  nie,  and  I  will  make  you 
fishers  of  men'  (Mt  4").  He  gave  primacy  to  an 
ambition  for  the  ends  of  the  Kingdom  over  all 
worldly  ambitions  in  the  words  :  '  Seek  ye  first  the 
kingdom  of  God  and  His  righteousnes.s '  (RIt  6^). 
He  compared  the  earnestness  of  true  followers 
with  the  ambition  of  a  pearl-merchant  (Mt  13'^), 
and  encouraged  tbc  religious  ambition  of  the 
young  ruler  by  trying  to  turn  it  into  a  new  and 
;1 


deeper  channel  (Mt 
perfect,  sell  .  .  .  give  .  .  , 
treasure  in  heaven.'     It  «  a- 
to  set  before  His  di-'  ipli  , 
22-»-3»,  Mt  5"-",  Jii  1-'    ):  .■- 
to  go  out  of   their  Avay   in 
lengths  in  fidelity  (Lk  0''- 14- 
order  to  -win  the  truest  pr 
success.     '  The  Christian  ni 
indeed  be  summed 
from  a  restraint  K. 
2.  A<i,<nisl   A, I, I,. 
truth  I.es.ii.l   tliat 
of  Clirist  Mas  lo  (l,-|,o.~e  Anib 
place.      He    va.    alua.^s    rel.u 
desires  for  any  kiml  ot  seHi^li  ^ 
they   were    a-.--iM  iate.l    wuli    , 
that  peri;,lielh';   Lk  (i  ',  and' 
pride  (Mt  6'""'  '  glory  of  men,   '- 
'seen  of  men  and  called  Ital 
hi.gh-placed  desire  if  it  was  lie 
without  counting  the  cost  (L 
and  the  king  who  failed  in  t 
lO'^^-^"  the  sons  of  Zeliedee  w 
they  asked').       Moreover,    C 


If  thou  woulde.st  be 

Hill  thou  shalt  have 

larl   ot  His  teaching 

I'l  i/e  to  aim  at  (Lk 

I   Ho  expected  them 

liMition,  and  to  all 

■1 '.)'=•'■',  .Mt  2o'^-=3),  in 

se  and  mo.st  lasting 

lal  reformation  may 

this— humanity  changed 

.■e'(£,c-«//,j,m<). 

l!ut  it  may  with  equal 

1  ot  tlie  life  and  teaching 

\ni1iitiiin  from  its  ruling 

i-eliiikiie4-    (ii    inordinate 

li-!i  sali-lariH.ii.  whether 

I  li    <//■  • ./  (.1 11   Ii-'    '  food 

aiid'e-,,,    I-J      'I  or  with 


■-■^■IomI   i(,'23=-'2 

I  lioii^lii  le>sly  and 
1  1-=  "■'  the  builder 
ir  ambition  ;  Mk 
'  knew  not  what 
st  cut  away  the 
very  tap-root  of  Ambition  by  turning  self  out  of 
its  place  at  the  seat  of  the  niotives  of  life,  in 
favour  of  a  living  trust  in  the  Father  and  an 
undivided  allegiance  to  Hinrseif.  The  virtues 
whi<li  are  iiio-t  pioniiiieut  in  tlie  Christian  ideal 
lea\e  no  room  al-  all  for  Ambition  in  the  gener- 
ally arre|,ie,|  n-e  ot  tlic  wonl.  For  ( "liristianity 
demanils  Innuil.h,  (Mt  5=  etc.,  Lk  14"-"  etc.,  Jn 
13'--'-'),  generosity  (Mk  12''^- *\  Lk  6™-"'  12=^  etc.), 
and  .self  -  renouncement  (Mt  10=«' '^  Mk  10=»- » 
Jn  I2--''--«). 

On  the  whole,  the  influence  of  Christ's  teaching 
and  in.s|iii,-i,liou  on  Anibilion  h.is  been  not  to  ex- 
tir|.ale  it,  but  to  eontrol  ;in,l  eliaMen  U  by  the 
iIiseo\-er,y  and  e.^tablisliineiiL  of  oilier  stamlpoints, 
such  as  the  outlook  of  othcr-worldlineb.s,  the  sense 
of  brotherhood,  and  personal  allegiance  to  Himself. 

LrrBRATORE.— Lightfoot  (J.  B.),  Cambridge  Sermons,  217 ; 
Moore  (A.  L.),  Admnt  to  Advent,  239 ;  Shedd  (VV.  G.  T.),  Sermons 
to  the  Sinritual  Man,  371 ;  Mozley  (W.  B.),  University  Sermons, 

■-ea.  A.  NoEMAN  Rowland. 

AMEN Like  the  Greek  ifxriv,  this  is  practically 

a  transliteration  of  the  Heb.  J.?x,  which  itself  is  a 
verbal  adjective  connect'ed  with  a  root  signifying 
to  make  jirm,  establish.  In  the  last  instance,  and 
as  we  are  concerned  with  it,  it  is  an  indeclinable 
particle.  Barth  treats  it  as  originally  a  substan- 
tive ( =  '  firmness,'  '  certainty ').  For  the  deriva- 
tion, cf.  our  Eng.  'yes,'  'yea,'  which  is  also 
connected  with  an  old  verbal  root  of  similar  sig- 
nificance. 

As  a  formula  of  solemn  confirmation,  assever- 
ation and  assent,  it  was  established  in  old  and 
familiar  usage  amon.nst  the  Jews  in  the  time  of 
our  Lord.  Its  function  i-  -  |..<i.i  !!\  associated  with 
worship,  prayer,  the  1  i     i    "ill  and  desire, 

the  enunciation  of  m^  i    'li     j  .nts  and  truths. 

Four  modes  in  which  ^\nirii  i-  iiM-d  maybe  dis- 
tinguished—(1)  Initial,  when  it  lends  weight  to 
the  utterance  following.  (2)  Final,  when  u-sed  by 
the  speaker  himself  in  solemn  confirmation  of  what 


50 


J^tE}^ 


AMEX 


precedes.  (3)  ScspoRsicc,  when  used  to  express 
assent  to  the  utterance  of  another,  as  in  prayers, 
benedictions,  oaths,  etc.  (4)  Subscript ional,  when 
used  to  mark  the  close  of  a  writing,  but  hardly 
amounting  to  much  more  than  a  peculiar  variant 
of'Fmis.' 

The  subscriptional  Amen  requires  but  a  lirief 
notice.  No  instance  of  it  is  found  in  the  OT ; 
and  as  regards  the  closing  Amen  in  the  several 
Scriptures  of  the  NT  there  is  for  the  most  part  a 
lack  of  textual  authority.  The  AV,  following  the 
TR,  in  most  instances 'lias  it;  the  RV  in  most 
instances  omits  it.  AVhere  it  is  found,  in  the 
Epistles  and  the  Apocalypse,  it  is  rather  due  to 
the  fact  that  these  writings  close  with  a  doxology, 
prayer,  or  benediction.  The  variations  of  authority 
in  such  cases  seem  to  a  large  extent  capricious : 
else  why,  e.g.,  Amen  at  the  end  of  1  Corinthians 
and  not  at  the  end  of  2  Corinthians  ?  The  closing 
Amen  in  each  of  the  Gospels,  though  without 
authority,  is  a  genuine  iustance  of  the  subscrip- 
tional use  of  later  times.  Tliis  use  has  a  further 
curious  illustration  in  the  practice  of  copyists  of 
MSS  who  wrote  99  at  the  end  of  their  work,  this 
being  the  total  numerical  value  of  the  characters 
in  a/j.rii'.  For  the  purposes  of  the  present  article  it 
will  lie  necessary  to  examine  the  whole  Biblical 
usage  of  '  Amen. 

1.  Amen  in  the  OT.— The  formula  is  found  in  {rr) 
the  Pentateuch  (Nu  5--,  Dt  27  passim)  as  a  ritual 
injunction  (LXX  yivoiro  througliout).  (b)  In  1  K 
l*",  1  Ch  le'^,  Neh  5^',  Jer  ll*  28"  it  is  mentioneil 
as  being  actually  used  (LXX  in  1  K  P*  yemiro 
oi'Tws,  Jer  28"  dXTjffus,  elsewhere  d/ivi').  {>■)  In  the 
Psalms  (41"  72""  89^  106^«)  we  meet  with  its 
liturgical  use  (LXX  ydvoiTo).  The  most  common 
equivalent  for  Amen  in  the  LXX  is  yevocTo ;  and 
with  this  may  be  compared  St.  Paul's  familiar  /irp 
yivoiTo,  the  negative  formula  of  dissent  and  depre- 
cation. 

No  clear  instance  of  the  use  of  an  initial  Amen 
occurs.  Hogg  tliinks  we  have  such  in  1  K  1*^,  Jer 
IP  and  28";  but  in  each  of  these  cases  it  will  be 
found  that  the  Amen  is  a  responsive  assent  to 
something  tliat  precedes.  It  is  true  that  the  LXX 
rendering  in  Jer  28"  (dXTjeds)  shows  that  the  trans- 
lators were  iiiolined  to  regard  this  as  an  instance 
of  ;<ii  iiiiti:il  Amen;  but  even  here  the  term  is 
really  :iii  iiMiural  response  to  the  false  prophecy  of 
Hauuiuiili  111  vv. ■-■•'.  Almost  all  the  instances, 
indeed,  in  w  liich  Amen  is  met  with  in  tlie  OT  are 
examples  of  the  responsive  use  ;  the  only  consider- 
able instances  of  the  Jinal  use  being  found  at  the 
end  of  each  of  the  first  three  divisions  of  the 
Psalter.  In  the  Apocrypha  we  have  further  in- 
stances of  the  responsive  Amen  in  To  8*  and  in 
Jth  13="  and  151"  (EV  in  the  latter  book  renders 
'  So  be  it ').  The  doubled  formula  ('  Amen,  Amen,' 
cf.  Jth  13^)  thus  used  is  naturally  explained  as  an 
expression  of  earnestness.  It  may  here  be  added 
that  among  the  Jews  at  a  much  later  period  Amen 
has  a  responsive  and  desiderative  use  in  connexion 
with  every  kind  of  expression  of  desire  and  feli- 
citation ;  c.y.  '  May  he  live  to  see  good  days : 
Amen  ! ' 

2.  Amen  in  the  Gospels. — AVe  must  set  aside 
the  instances  of  subscriptional  Amen  (see  above) 
as  without  authority.  In  Mt  6'^  some  ancient 
authorities  support  the  conclusion  of  the  Lord's 
Prayer  with  doxology  and  Amen ;  but  it  can 
haiflly  be  doubted  that  Amen  here,  along  with 
the  doxology  whicli  it  closes,  is  not  original,  but 
due  to  liturgical  use  (see  '  Notes  on  Select  Read- 
ings' in  Westcott-Hort's  AT  in  Greek,  ad  loc.). 
In  all  the  other  instances  in  tlie  Gospels  it  is  the 
initial  Amen  that  is  found,  given  always  and 
only  as  a  vsns  loquencli  of  Christ  in  the  formula, 
itiT]v  X^7W  I'/ufi'  (o-oi),  according  to  the  Synoptists, 


and  d/iiji'    dfiTii/  X^yw  vfuv   ((roi),  according    to  St. 
John. 

Now,  whilst  final  Amen  as  a  formula  of  con- 
clusion or  response  remains  unaltered  throughout 
in  NT  in  the  various  versions,  it  is  of  interest  to 
notice  the  dift'erent  ways  in  which  this  initial 
Amen  is  treated.  The  Vulgate,  c.ff.,  invariably 
keeps  the  untranslated  form,  and  reads  Amen  (or 
Amen,  Amen)  (lico  fobis.  The  modern  Greek 
equiv.alent  is  dXiiOiDs  {a\T}eSis  dXijSiis) ;  and  with 
this  accords  our  KV  'Verily,'  and  also  Luther's 
Wahrlieh.  And,  indeed,  among  the  Synoptists 
themselves  there  are  indications  that  an  initial 
Amen  has  sometimes  been  replaced  by  another 
term.  This  is  specially  so  in  the  case  of  St.  Luke, 
Avho  has  only  6  instances  of  aix-qv  as  against  30  in 
St.  Matthew,  and  13  in  St.  jNIark.  We  have, 
« .</. ,  i-al  in  Lk  1 P'  for  dix-qv  in  the  parallel  Mt  23'" ; 
d\7,t»^j  in  Lk  9^  (cf.  Mt  !()-«,  Mk  9M.  AH  this  goes 
to  ^llow  that  this  use  of  Amen  on  the  part  of  Jesus 
was  quite  a  peculiarity. 

The  very  \iyu  v/iiv  alone  would  have  been  notice- 
able as  a  mode  of  assertion  :  the  addition  of  a/j.rii' 
does  but  intensify  this  characteristic,  as  an  enforce- 
ment and  corroboration  of  the  utterances  that  are 
thus  prefaced.  The  Heb.  jpx,  which  in  our  Lord's 
time  was  usual  only  in  responses,  thus  appears  to 
have  been  taken  by  Him  as  an  expedient  for  con- 
lirming  His  own  statement  '  in  the  same  way  as  if 
it  were  an  oath  or  a  blessing.'  Formulte  of  pro- 
testation iind  affirmation  involving  an  oath  were  in 
use  among  Rabbinical  teacliers  to  enforce  teachings 
and  sayings,  and  with  these  the  mode  of  Jesus 
invites  comparison  and  contrast. 

The  attempt  of  Delitzsch  to  explain  tliis  Amen  (p.irticularty 
in  the  double  fomi)  through  the  Aramaic  Nr^:N  'I  say,'  cannot 
be  sustained.  Jannaris,  again  (Expos.  Times,  Sept.  1902, 
p.  564),  has  ventured  the  suggestion  that  ccf^y.*  thus  used  is  a 
corruption  of  S  f^r,)/  (£*'^-<»);  hut  interesting  and  ingenious  as 
this  may  be,  it  lacks  confirmation,  and  auxongst  the  instances 
of  the  use  of  5  /^ii*  which  he  adduces  from  the  LXX,  the 
papyri,  etc.,  not^one  suits  the  case  here  by  showing  any  such 

A  parallel  between  Amen  and  our  '  Yes '  lias  been 
already  suggested :  and  in  the  NT  we  similarly 
find  a/i-^v  and  vat  closely  associated  (2  Co  I''",  Rev 
V),  whilst  we  have  before  noticed  how  in  St. 
Luke  val  is  found  as  a  substitute  for  d/x^i'.  It  may 
not  therefore  be  out  of  place  here  to  suggest  tliat 
we  have  an  illustration  and  analogy  as  regards  the 
use  of  an  initial  Amen  in  the  use  of  an  intro- 
ductory '  Yes '  sometimes  found  in  English  (see, 
e.g.,  Shakspeare,  ;^  Hen.  IV.  I.  iii.  3G  ;  Pope,  Moral 
Essays,  i.  1). 

The  double  Amen,  which  occurs  25  times  in  St. 
John,  and  is  peculiar  to  tliat  Gosnel,  has  provoked 
much  curiosity  as  to  how  it  is  to  be  explained.  If 
Jesus  used  as  a  formula  in  teaching  now  dinTjv  'K^yui 
iifilv  and  again  dM';>'  d/xjiv  X^yw  vtaiv,  it  is  very 
strange  that  the  Synoptics  should  invarial)ly  re- 
present Him  as  using  the  former,  and  the  Fourth 
Gospel  invariably  as  using  tlie  latter.  Why  not 
instances  of  both  promiscuously  through  all  the 
Gospels  if  the  two  were  thus  alike  used? 

The  statement  that  the  Johannine  form  '  intro- 
duces a  truth  of  special  solemnity  and  importance  ' 
(as  Plummer  in  Camb.  Gr.  Te^t.  for  Schools,  etc., 
'  St.  John,'  note  on  ch.  P')  is  quite  gratuitous,  as  a 
comparison  of  the  sayings  and  discourses  of  our 
Lord  will  show.  It  is  too  obviously  a  dictum  for 
the  purpose  of  explanation.  The  truth  is,  if  we 
have  regard  to  the  exclamatory  character  of  d/i^i' 
as  a  particle  in  this  special  use,  there  is  noth- 
ing surprising  in  its  being  thus  repeated  ;  and  we 
have  the  analogy  of  the  repeated  Amen  in  re- 
sponses, as  noticed  above.  Why  St.  John  alone 
sliould  give  the  formula  in  this  particular  way  is  a 
further  question.  If  a  consideration  of  the  pheno- 
mena connected  with  the  composition  of  the  Fourth 


AMEN 


Gospel  leads  to  the  conclusion  that  in  the  fofiii  in 
■vvhicli  the  utterances  of  Jesus  are  there  presented 
■we  have  not  His  ij>sissii)m  verba,  we  may  most 
naturally  regard  the  repetition  of  d/i-^y  as  a  peculi- 
arity due  to  the  Evangelist,  and  (taking  the 
evidence  of  the  Synoptists  into  account)  not  neces- 
sarily a  form  actually  used  by  Jesus. 

3.  Amen  in  the  rest  of  the  NT. — In  the  niimerous 
instances  in  which  Amen  occurs  in  the  NT  out- 
side the  Gospels,  it  is  almost  entirely  found  in  con- 
nexion Avitli  prayers,  doxologies,  or  Ijenedictions,  as 
a  solemn  corroborative  conclusion  (final  use).  In 
addition,  we  have  the  rcsponsiue  use  of  Amen  illus- 
trated in  1  Co  14"=  (see  below,  ,?.  '  Liturgical  use ') 
and  Rev  5'^ :  and  d/xvij/  in  Rev  '22-"  is  responsive 
to  the  Ipxo/iai  Taxi  preceding.  Extra -canonical 
writings  furnish  plentiful  examples  of  the  same 
use.  Two  instances,  again,  of  an  iittmihniuri/ 
Amen  in  the  Apocalypse  (7'^  ly*),  as  a  form  of 
exultant  acclamation,  are  interesting,  but  are 
quite  distinct  from  the  initial  Amen  in  the  utter- 
ances of  Jesus  in  the  Gospels. 

Amen  as  a  substantive  appears  in  two  forms : 
(1)  t6  djuiji',  (2)  6  d.ij.T}v.  We  meet  with  the  former 
in  1  Co  14^"  and  2  Co  1^°.  In  both  cases  there 
appears  to  be  a  reference  to  a  liturgical  Amen.  In 
the  latter  passage,  indeed,  it  might  be  contended 
that  dfLT^jP  IS  merely  in  correspondence  with  nai, 
both  simplj'  conveying  the  idea  of  confirmation 
and  assurance ;  but  if  we  follow  the  better  sup- 
ported readin"  (as  in  RV)  the  i)reseuce  of  such  a 
reference  canliaidly  be  denied. 

The  use  of  6  a./x-r)i>  ;us  a  name  for  our  Lord  in  Rev 
3'^  is  striking  and  peculiar.  The  attempt,  how- 
ever, to  explain  it  by  reference  to  2  Co  !'•"'  is  not 
satisfactory.  The  curious  expression  '  the  God  of 
Amen '  (E V  '  the  God  of  truth ')  in  Is  Bo'o  is  not 
sufiiciently  a  parallel  to  afford  an  explanation,  for 
the  Amen  in  this  case  is  not  a  personal  name,  but 
the  EV  furnishes  a  satisfactory  equivalent  in  the 
renderin<j  '  truth.'  Suv.l  y,  liowiv.r,  tliere  need  be 
little  difficulty  about  thr  use  ot  urh  a  term  as  a 
designation  of  Jesus.  ( 'niisiilirhiL;  the  wealth  of 
descriptive  epithets  applied  t.)  Him  in  the  NT  and 
other  early  Christian  writings,  anil  also  the  termin- 
ology favoured  by  the  autlior  of  the  Apocalypse, 
we  must  feel  that  this  use  of  Amen,  if  bold,  is  not 
unnatural  or  unapt,  so  suggestive  as  the  term  is 
of  truth  and  rirmne.ss.  Another  but  very  ditterent 
use  of  Amen  as  a  proper  name  may  be  mentioned. 
Among  certain  of  the  Gnostics  d/x-fip  figured  as  the 
name  of  an  angel  (Hippolytus,  Philosophtmiena, 
ccxviii.  79,  ccciv.  45). 

i.  Allien  in  liturgical  tise.—{a)  Jewish.— In  the 
Persian  period  Amen  was  in  use  as  '  the  responsory 
of  the  people  to  the  doxology  of  the  Priests  and 
tlie  Lcvites'  (see  Neh  8«,  1  Ch  16'°,  Ps  106*).  In 
the  time  of  Christ  it  had  become  an  established 
and  familiar  formula  of  the  synagogue  worship  in 
particular,  the  resjjonse  used  in  the  Temple  being 
a  longer  form  :  '  lilessed  be  the  Name  of  the  glory 
of  His  kingdom  for  ever  and  ever  !'  In  still  later 
times  a  formula  of  response  was  used  which  was 
aijparently  a  combination  of  the  synagogue  Amen 
with  the  Temple  responsory  :  '  Amen  :  praised  be 
the  great  Name  for  ever  and  ever  !'  In  the  syna- 
gogue service  the  Amen  was  said  by  the  people  in 
response  to  the  reader's  doxology.  (In  the  gi'eat 
synagogue  of  Alexandria  the  attendant  used  to 
signal  the  congregation  with  a  Hag  when  to  give 
the  response).  Amen  was  also  the  responsory  to 
the  priestly  blessing. 

Responsive  Amen  at  the  end  of  prayers  was 
evidently  an  old  custom  among  the  Jews.  In 
later  times  they  are  said  to  have  discouraged  this, 
because  Amen  at  the  end  of  every  prayer  had 
become  the  habit  of  Christians.  The  use  of  Amen 
in  this  connexion  was  thus  considerably  restricted ; 


as  to  be  followed  by  the  Amen. 

The  Rabbis  in  their  liturgical  exactness  rigor- 
ously determined  the  sense  of  Amen,  and,  among 
other  things,  enjoined  that  every  doxology,  on 
whatever  occasion,  must  be  followed  by  this  re- 
sponse. Curious  sayings  were  current  among 
them,  emphasizing  the  signilicance  and  value  of 
Amen.  Should,  Cf/.,  the  inhabitants  of  hell  ex- 
claim '  Amen  ! '  when  the  holy  Name  of  God  is 
praised,  it  will  secure  their  release  (Yalk.  ii.  296 
to  Is  26-). 

(b)  Christian.  —  This  use  of  Amen  was  un- 
doubtedly borrowed  by  the  Christians  from  the 
Jewish  synagogue,  as,  indeed,  other  liturgical  fea- 
tures were.  St.  Paul's  words  in  1  Co  14'"  are  of 
special  interest  here.  The  reader  is  so  to  recite 
his  prayers  that  the  ignorant  should  have  the 
boon  of  answering  the  Amen  to  the  doxology. 
The  idiioTTjs  (Bi'"in)  for  whom  he  pleads  is  similarly 
considered  by  the  Rabbis,  and  they  give  the 
same  instruction.  It  cannot  be  maintained  that 
the  term  evxapitrria  used  here  by  St.  Paul  has  that 
special  and,  so  to  speak,  technical  sense  which 
it  afterwards  acquires  as  applied  to  the  Lord's 
Supper,  and  that  so  '  the  Amen '  (t6  d/i^c)  intended 
is  specilically  the  response  connected  with  the 
observance  of  that  institution.  At  the  same  time, 
the  whole  reference  clearly  indicates  that  Amen 
as  a  responsory  in  Christian  worship  was  already 
a  regiilar  and  familiar  usage. 

It  is,  however,  in  connexion  with  the  Eucharist, 
in  the  special  sense  of  the  term,  that  the  Fathers 
particularly  mention  the  res[ionsive  Amen,   and 


Martyr  {Apol.  2),  Tertullian  (rfc  Snectacul.  25), 
Dionysius  of  Alexandria  {ap.  Euseb.  HE),  and 
Chrysostom  (Hoiii.  oo  in  1  Cor.)  make  such  refer- 
ence. This  prayer,  of  course,  was  at  first  said 
aloud,  so  as  to  be  heard  by  all  ;  but  in  the  course 
of  time  (after  the  8th  cent.)  the  custom  grew  for 
the  officiating  minister  to  say  it  solto  voce.  Even 
then,  such  importance  wms  attached  to  the  re- 
sponse of  the  people  th:it  the  priest  was  requii-ed 
to  say  the  closing  \viiriN  ('w.iiiil  without  end') 
aloud,  so  that  then  lliu  'Auiiii'  might  be  said. 
This  in  the  West:  in  the  Greek  Church  it  was 
similarly  required  that  the  words  of  the  institution 
should  be  said  aloud,  though  the  first  part  of  the 
prayer  was  said  inaudibly,  so  that  the  people 
might  hear  them  and  maKe  their  response.  A 
writer  of  the  9th  cent.  (Florus  Magister),  referring 
to  this  usage,  says :  '  Amen,  which  is  responded 
by  the  whole  church,  means  It  is  trtic.  This, 
therefore,  the  faithful  respond  at  the  consecration 
of  so  great  a  mystery,  as  also  in  every  prayer  duly 
said,  and  by  resjioniiing  declare  assent.  A  similar 
use  of  Amen  at  the  end  of  the  Exhortation  (which 
is  not  a  prayer),  commencing  the  second  part  of 
the  eucharistio  service  (see  Book  of  Common 
Prayer),  and  at  the  end  of  the  corresponding 
'Preface'  in  the  old  Galilean  Liturgy,  may  also 
be  pointed  out. 

Jerome  has  an  interesting  reference  to  the  loud 
congregational  Amen,  which  he  describes  as  re- 
sounding like  thunder  ('ad  siiuilitudini'm  ccelestis 
tonitrui '  — Com.  ad  Gala/  L  'tin-  .Miirsponds 
to  a  synagogue  custom  ol  nii^i!  _  i!m'  'Amen 
with  the  full  power' of  the  \ >■         .  !  rj'/). 

The  modern  practice  of  siii;,iu.i;  ^iinLii  at  the 
close  of  hymns  in  public  wovsliip  is  partly  due  to 
a  musical  demand  for  a  suitable  cadence  to  con- 
clude the  tune :  but  it  is  also  in  harmony  with 
the  most  ancient  practice  of  closing  hynms  with 
doxologies,  which  naturally  carried  an  Amen  with 
them.  The  discrimination  observable  in  some 
hymnals,  whereby  hymns  containing  a  prayer  or 


52 


AM  HA'AEEZ 


a:n"drew 


a  doxology  are  closed  with  Amen  and  others  not, 
arises  from  misapprehension.  Amen  not  only 
means  '  So  lie  it,'  Init  equally  '  So  it  is,'  and  should 
thus  he  suitable  as  a  conclusion  to  all  hymns  that 
are  appropriate  for  Christian  worship. 

(c)  Mohammedan. — Among  the  Mohammedans 
Amen  is  used  liturgically,  hut  only  to  a  slight 
extent.  It  is  universally  used  by  them  after  every 
recital  of  the  hrst  Sura  of  the  Koran — the  so-called 
Sural  al-FAtUuit  ( =  Preface  or  Introduction).  This 
brief,  prayer-like  form  is  held  in  great  veneration, 
and  has  among  them  a  place  corresponding  to  that 
of  the  Paternoster  amongst  Christians. 

LiTERATrRE. — ^The  Bible  Dictionaries,  s.y. ;  Jewish  Encycto- 
l>f(lia,  s.r.  ;  Bcrnkhoth  i.  11-19;  H.  W.  Hogg,  Jewish  Quart. 
Review,  Oct.  1896;  articles  in  Bxposilonj  'Times,  bv  Nestle 
(Jan.  1S97),  and  Jannaris  (Sept  1902);  Dalman,  Die  Worte  Jcsu 
(En-,  tr.  1902,  p.  226 ff.);  Scudamore,  Sotitia  Euekarietica. 

J.  S.  Clemens. 

AM  HA'AREZ  (fixn  cu)  means  literally  'the 
people  of  the  land.'  Sometimes — particularly  in 
later  books  of  OT— it  is  found  in  the  pluralV()H//ic 
hrVarcz  or  'amme  hcCardzoth.  Its  use  in  the  time 
of  Christ  indicates  the  following  development : — 
From  being  (1)  applied  to  the  ordinary  inhabitants 
of  the  land  {(in  23'- '-  ^^)  or  to  the  people  at  large  as 
a  body  (-1  K  H»-is.i9.=o  is^  16'5  21^  etc.),  the  term 
came  (2)  to  be  used  to  designate  the  common  people 
as  distinguished  from  the  king,  princes,  priests, 
etc.  (Jer  U^^,  Hag  2\  Zee  7'),  and  (3)  like  '  pagan ' 
from  pagus,  was  applied  to  those  remote  from  or 
untouched  by  the  culture  (particularly  religious 
culture)  of  the  time,  till  it  became  (4)  finally, 
an  expression  of  contempt  meaning  'uncultured,' 
'rude,'  'barbarous,'  'irreligious,'  applied  to  a 
certain  class  or  even  to  a  member  of  that  class. 
To  the  'am  hd'arez  the  Pharisees  directly  refer  in 
.In  7^'  'This  multitude  which  knoweth  not  the 
Law  are  accursed.' 

The  origin  of  this  cleavage  is  found  in  the  OT. 
At  the  Exile  we  are  told  '  none  were  left  save  the 
very  poor  of  the  people  of  the  land'  (nxri  c-j_  nh 
2  K  24").  These  mingled  with  the  neighbouring 
non-Israelites  and  perhaps  also  with  tlie  settlers 
from  Assyria,  intermarrying  \\itli  tliem,  :ind  prob- 
ably adopting  their  customs,  lleiue  at  the  I'leturn 
both  Ezra  and  Nehemiah  demanded  a  complete 
separation  (Ezr  9'- ",  Neh  10^=')  between  the  rs- 
turned  exiles  who  observed  the  Law  strictly,  and 
those  settlers  who  constituted  '  the  people  of  the 
land.' 

This  idea  developed  and  led  to  the  formation 
of  a  party  called  'Separatists,'  Hastdim  or  Pc- 
rushim  (Aram.  Pcrishnijya'  ;  see  art.  '  Pharisees '  in 
Hastings'  DB  iii.  p.  826''),  who  regarded  all  contact 
with  the  vulgar  crowd  {'am  ha'arez)  as  defiling, 
observed  a  strict  regime  of  ceremonial  purity,  anil 
called  each  other  haber  (i.e.  'brother').  The  'am 
ha'arez  was  the  antithesis  of  the  Mber,  outside  the 
pale  of  this  higher  Judaism,  poor',  ignorant  of  the 
Law,  despised.  In  Rabbinical  literature,  where  he 
is  always  regarded  as  a  Jew,  many  definitions  of 
the  'am  hfi'drez  are  given.  Thus  in  the  Talmud 
(Brrakhi'jih  476)  he  is  described  as  one  '  who  does 
not  give  his  tithes  regularly,'  or  'who  does  not 
read  the  Shema  morning  and  evening,'  or '  who  does 
not  wear  tcphi//im,'  or  '  who  has  no  mezxizah  on  his 
doorposts,'  or  '  who  fails  to  teach  his  children  the 
Law,'  or  '  who  has  not  associated  with  the  learned.' 
Montefiore  in  his  Hibbcrt  Lectures  denies  that 
such  sharp  cleavage  between  the  Hasidim  and  the 
'nm  ha'arez  ever  existed  save  in  the  minds  of  later 
Rabbis  who  had  difficulty  in  defining  'am  hd'arez, 
and  consequently  he  questions  the  authenticity  of 
Jn  7^',  but  on  insufficient  grounds.  A  great  gulf 
and  much  bitterness  existed  between  the  two. 
A  Pharisee  would  not  accept  the  evidence  of  an 
'am  huurez  as  a  witness,  nor  give  him  his  daughter 


in  marriage.  Even  the  touch  of  the  garment  of  an 
'am  hitdirz  was  defiling ;  and  Lazarus  (Ethics  of 
.Titdrii.sm)  quotes  a  saj'in<r,  '  An  'am  hd'arez  may  be 
killed  on  the  Sabbath  of  Sabbaths,  or  torn  like  a 
fish.'  This  can  hardly  be  taken  literally ;  yet  it 
illustrates  the  feeling  wliich  doubtless  prevailed  in 
the  time  of  Christ  towards  t\\e'am  hd'drcz.  The 
mind  of  Jesus  triumphed  over  this  narrow  sijirit. 
In  these  poor  despised  outcasts  He  saw  inlmite 
possibilities  for  goodness.  They  were  the  objects 
of  His  special  care.     To  them  had  the  Father  sent 


sheep  of  the  house  of  Israel ' 


leyv 
(Mt 


10«). 


AMON.— A  king  of  Judah  (c.  640  B.C.)  mentioned 
in  our  Lord's  genealogy,  Jit  1'"  (Gr.  'A^us,  RVm 
Amos). 

ANDREW  ('Az/opcas,  'manly'). — In  the  Synoptic 
Gospels,  Andrew  is  little  more  than  a  name  ;  but 
the  references  to  him  in  the  Fourth  Gospel  are  of 
such  a  character  as  to  leave  ujion  our  minds  a 
wonderfully  clear  impression  of  the  manner  of 
man  he  was,  and  of  the  service  which  he  ren- 
dered to  the  Church  of  Christ.  Andrew  was  a 
native  of  Bethsaida  (Jn  1"),  but  afterwards  sliared 
the  same  house  (Mk  1=^)  at  Capernaum  (v.=') 
with  his  better  known  brother  Simon  Peter.  By 
trade  he  was  a  fisherman  (Mt  4"),  but,  attracted 
by  all  that  he  had  heard  or  seen  of  John  the 
Baptist,  for  a  time  at  least  he  left  his  old  work, 
and,  following  the  Baptist  into  the  wilderness, 
came  to  be  recognized  as  one  of  his  discijjles 
(Jn  135- ■'O).  A  better  teacher  Andrew  could  not 
liave  had  ;  for  if  from  John  he  iirst  learned  the 
exceeding  sinfulness  of  sin,  by  hiui  also  he  was 
pointed  to  the  jiromised  Deliverer,  the  Lamb  of 
God,  wdio  was  to  take  away  the  sin  of  the  world. 
And  when,  accordingly,  the  Christ  did  come,  it 
was  to  find  Andrew  with  a  heart  ready  and  eager 
to  welcome  Him.  Of  that  first  interview  between 
the  Lord  and  His  new  disciple  the  Fourth  Evan- 
gelist, who  was  himself  present,  has  preserved  the 
record  (Jn  l^-*"),  and  he  it  is  also  who  tells  us 
tliat  no  sooner  had  Andrew  realized  for  himself 
the  truth  regarding  Jesus,  than  he  at  once  went 
in  search  of  his  brother  Peter  (vv.*'-''-).  And 
thus  to  the  first-called  of  Christ's  disciples  (irpwri- 
\\t;-o!,  according  to  a  common  designation  of 
Andrew  in  early  ecclesiastical  writers)  was  given 
the  joy  of  bringing  next  his  own  brother  to  the 
Lord.  The  call  of  James  and  of  John,  if  they 
had  not  been  previously  sunnuoned,  would  seem 
to  have  followed  ;  but  in  none  of  these  instances 
did  this  imply  as  yet  more  than  a  personal  re- 
lationship to  the  Saviour.  The  actual  summons 
to  work  came  later,  when,  by  the  Sea  of  Galilee, 
Jesus  bade  Andrew,  along  with  the  same  three 
comjjanions,  leave  his  nets  and  come  after  Him 
(Mt  4'S'').  And  this  in  turn  was  followed  shortly 
afterwards  by  Andrew's  uiipointmeiit  to  a  place 
in  the  Apostolic  Band  (Mt  10=").  His  jdace, 
moreover,  was  a  place  of  honour,  for  his  name 
always  occurs  in  the  first  group  of  four,  ami  it  is 
witiri'eter  and  James  and  .Ii.lin  tli:it  In-  is  again 
associated  in  the  'privalir  iii'inirir-  r,,  .Icsus  re- 
garding the  time  of  the  La^-t  'I  liinu-  >  M  '.  i:P). 

Still  more  interesting,  liiiu.\tr.  :i-  illustrating 
Andrew's  character,  are  the  l«  o  occasions  on  which 


AXGELS 


Als'GELS 


53 


he  is  si^ecially  associated  with  Philip,  the  only- 
other  Apostle  vho  bore  a  Greek  name.  The  first 
incident  occurred  at  the  Feeding  of  the  Five 
Thousand,  when,  in  contrast  to  the  anxious,  cal- 
culating Philip,  the  downright,  practical  Andrew 
thouglit  it  wortli  wliile  to  draw  tlie  Saviour's  atten- 
tion to  tlie  lad's  little  store,  even  thougli  lie  too 
was  at  a  loss  as  to  what  it  could  eti'ect  (Jn  G'"*''). 
And  the  second  occurred  when  to  Philip,  again 
perplexed  by  the  desire  of  certain  Greeks  (Gentiles, 
tlierefore)  to  see  Jesus,  Andrew  suggested  that  the 
true  course  was  at  least  to  lay  the  re(juest  before 
Jesus  Himself,  and  leave  Him  to  decide  whether 
or  not  it  could  be  granted  (Jn  12-""'). 

After  this,  with  tli(>  exception  of  the  incident 
already  referred  to  (Mk  13^),  Andrew  is  not  again 
mentioned  in  tlie  Gospels,  and  the  only  subsequent 
reference  to  him  in  Scripture  is  the  mere  mention 
of  his  name  in  Ac  1'^  Tradition,  however,  has 
been  busy  Avith  his  after-history ;  and  he  is  re- 
presented as  labouring,  according  to  one  account, 
in  Scythia  (Ens.  HE  iii.  1),  whence  he  has  been 
adopted  as  the  patron -saint  of  Russia;  or,  ac- 
cording to  another,  in  Acliaia.  In  any  case,  there 
is  general  agreement  that  he  was  martyred  at 
Patrce  in  Achaia,  being  bound,  not.  nailed,  to  the 
cross,  in  order  to  prolong  his  sufferings.  There 
is,  however,  no  warrant  for  the  belief  that  the 
cross  was  of  the  decussate  shape  (X)i  as  this  cross, 
usually  associated  with  his  name,  is  of  a  much 
later  date. 

A  striking:  tradition  preserved  in  tlie  Muratorian  Frafjiytcnt 
brings  Andrew  and  Jolin  together  in  tlieir  old  a;,'c  as  they  had 
been  in  their  youth:  'The  fourth  Gospel  (was  writtt-ii  li\ ) 
John,  one  of  the  disciples  (i.e.  Apostles).  \\  litii  liis  ftllo\V- 
disciples  and  bishops  urgently  pressed  him,  he  said,  "  Fastwilh 
me  [from]  to-day,  for  three  days,  and  let  us  li-ll  one  another  anv 
revelation  which  may  he  m  i  I  lo  n  ,  .  ;:  .  i  \..i-  or  against  [the 
plan  of  writing)."    Ohthif-  i  ■  i  ealed  to  Andrew, 

one  of  the  Ai)ostles,  tluit     :       ,  i       ;  ,i'.-  all  in  his  own 

name,  and  that  all  should  1  ,  nt,)'  (see  Westcott, 

Gospel  of  St.  John,  ip.  \\x\  .  Ih  '  ,     ./  A /' '  ifnon,  p.  5:>3). 

It  is  also  deserving  of  mention  tliat  about  740  Andrew  became 
the  patron-saint  of  Scotlanrl,  on-ing  to  the  belief  that  his  arm 
had  been  brought  by  St.  Regulus  to  the  town  on  the  East  Coast 
that  now  bears  his  name. 

The  character  of  Andrew,  as  it  appears  in  the 
few  scattered  notices  that  we  lia\'e  of  him,  is  tliat 
of  a  simple,  kindly  man  who  had  the  courage  of 
his  opinions,  as  pro\ed  liy  his  biMii^-  tlic  lii'st  of 
the  Baptist's  disciples  (ijiei'i  I  y  i"  l  !l.  w  .1.  m;  wlio 
was  eager  to  share  with  ..ih.  ■     |  n,   i,  jcs  he 

himself  enjoyed  (witness  li;  -  .  ,i  i  I '.  : ,  r,  and 
his  treatment  of  the  (h-eik-i;  ,:m  I  v.Ii-k  his  work 
done,  was  always  ready  to  ellace  himself  (see 
especially  Lightfoot,  Sermons  on  Special  Occasion.^, 
p.  160 ft'.).  Again,  when  we  think  of  the  Apostle 
in  his  more  official  aspect,  it  is  sufficient  to  recall 
that  he  was  not  only  the  first  home-missionary 
(Jn  l-"),  but  also  the  first  foreign-missionary  (12--) 
—evidence,  if  evidence  be  wanted,  of  the  close 
connexion  between  the  two  spheres  of  work. 

_  LiTERATiRE.— In  addition  to  what  has  been  noted  above,  and 
•  different  Lives  of  Christ,  see 


IGC  ff. 


haj  '  i]i  77,. •  Christian  Year,  and  to  the  poem  on  'St.  Andrew 
tui.l  his  Cress'  ill  the  Lyra  Innocentiimi. 

,„ „,  George  MiLLiGAN. 

ANGELS.— The  statements  as  to  angels  whieli 
meet  us  in  the  Gospels  are  in  most  respects  tlie 
same  as  are  found  in  tlie  Jewish  literature  of 
the  period,  both  Biblical  and  extra-Biblical.  In 
the  main,  Christ  and  His  Apostles  appropriated 
the  Angelology  of  current  Judaism  —  but  not 
without  critical  selection.     It  would  be  difficult 


to  point  to  a  time  when  tlie  Jews,  as  a  people,  did 
not  believe  in  angels ;  yet  there  were  exceptions. 
PossiUy  it  was  the  exuberance  of  tlie  belief  that 
produced  in  some  minds  a  reaction.  At  all  events 
it  is  a  fact  that  tlie  portion  of  the  OT  known  to 
criticism  as  the  Priests'  Code  is  silent  on  the  sub- 
ject of  angels  ;  and  it  is  also  noteworthy  that  the 
Sadducees,  who  were  the  descendants  of  the  high- 
priestly  families,  protested  in  the  time  of  our  Lord 
against  some,  if  not  all,  of  the  popular  notions  re- 
specting angels  (Ac  23*). 

It  is  probable  that  belief  in  angels  is  originally 
a  corollary  from  the  conception  of  God  as  King. 
A  lone  king— a  kiiin  «itIiiMil.  a  court— is  almost 
a  contradiction  in  im,,,,.  And  iiia.sinuch  as  the 
recognition  of  Gi.d  .- ,  IC,,,;  ^^  the  earliest  and 
nio.st  prevalent  ot  Im;u  Is  r.,iic,.ptions  of  God,  we 
naturally  expect  tlie  belief  in  angels,  as  God's 
court,  serving  Him  in  His  palace  and  discharging 
the  function  of  messengers,  to  be  ancient  and  per- 
vasive. We  have  then,  doubtless,  a  very  primitive 
conception  of  angels  in  the  words  of  Micaiah  to 
Ahab,  in  1  K  22'»  '  I  saw  Jahweh  sitting  on  his 
throne,  and  all  the  host  of  heaven  standing  by 
him,  on  his  right  hand  and  on  his  left.'  A  second 
and  quite  distinct  feature  of  the  Angelology  of  the 
OT  is  found  in  the  appearances  of  one  who  is  called 
'the_  Angel  of  Jahweh' — who  is  described  as  un- 
distinguishable  from  man  in  appearance,  and  yet 
olaiins  to  speak  and  act  in  the  name  of  Jahweh 
Himself  (Gn  IS-- !»• "  Z-2^-'-«,  Jg  l33-6-a2)_  j^  jg 
noteworthy  as  a  feature  of  OT  criticism,  that,  as 
P  is  silent  as  to  angels,  so  tlie  appearances  of  an 
angel  as  a  manlike  manifestation  of  God  and  not  a 
mere  messenger,  are  confined  to  those  portions  of 
the  OT  which,  on  quite  other  grounds,  are  assigned 
to  JE.  Thirdly,  when  the  Jews  came  to  have 
more  exalted  views  of  (lod,  and  of  the  incompati- 
bility between  l)i\  iiiity  and  humanity,  spirit  and 
mattei',  gootl  and  evil,  and,  in  consequence,  con- 
ceived of  God  as  aloof  from  the  world  and  iiK-,i|ialile 
of  immediate  contact  and  intercouis..  viih  siulnl 
mortals,  the  doctrine  of  angels  lee.iM.I  more 
attention  tlian  ever  before.  The  same  inllnciices 
which  led  the  Persians  to  frame  such  an  elaborate 
system  of  An-elology,  led  the  Jews,  during  and 
iilter  the  Exile,  to  frame  a  similar  system,  or  in 
some  respects  to  borrow  from  the  Persian  system; 
to  believe  in  gradations  among  the  angelic  hosts  ; 
to  give  names  to  those  who  were  of  high  rank, 
and  to  assign  to  each  of  these  some  definite  kind 
of  work  to  do  among  men,  or  some  province  on  the 
earth  to  administer  as  satrap  under  '  the  King  of 
Heaven '  (see  art.  '  Zoroastrianism  '  in  vol.  iv.  of 
Hastings'  DB). 

In  the  Gospels  there  are  clear  indications  of  the 
first  and  third  of  these  phases  of  belief.  Tlie 
second  is  of  interest  to  the  NT  student  as  a  pre- 
paratory discipline  in  the  direction  of  Christology  ; 
and  as  such  has  no  further  importance  for  us  at 
present.  Ewald  has  said  (OT  and  NT  Theology,  p. 
79)  that  in  Christianity  there  is  '  no  denial  of  the 
existence  of  angels,  but  a  return  to  the  simpler 
ic.limii]!:;  cif  (he  early  narratives.'  So  far  as  sim- 
pln  ii  \  I.I  iiai  l■:iti^e  is  concerned,  there  is  certainly 
.1  .  Ii.  r  n, ml, lance  between  the  angel-incidents 
"I  M.  I.iiki-  and  Acts  on  the  one  hand,  and  of 
tienesis  un  the  other;  but  in  the  NT  the  angel 
never  identifies  himself  with  Jahweh  as  is  done  in 
Genesis  ;  and  tliere  are  in  the  NT  some  jihases  of 
Angelology  which  belong,  not  to  '  the  early  narra- 
tives,' but  to  post-exilic  conceptions. 

AN'o  -i.isli  now,  with  the  help  of  Jewish  literature, 
more  or  less  contemporary,  to  make  a  systematic 
presentation  of  those  beliefs  as  to  angels  which 
are  found  in  the  discourses  and  narratives  of  the 
four  Gospels.  It  might  be  supposed  that  we  should 
find  it  helpful  to  keep  apart  tlie  utterances  of  our 


54 


ANGELS 


AIsVtELS 


Lord  from  the  descriptions  of  the  Evangelists  ;  but, 
in  fact,  there  is  such  complete  unity  of  conception 
underlying  both  discourses  and  narratives,  that  no 
useful  purpose  can  be  served  by  treating  theui 
separately. 

i.  Angels  in  Heaven.— 1.  They  form  an  army 
or  host.  Lk  2"  '  There  was  >vith  the  angel  (who 
appeared  to  the  shepherds)  a  multitude  of  the 
heavenly  host'  (nTpana).  Our  Lord  carries  the 
militaiy  metaphor  even  further  when  He  speaks 
of  'more  than  12  legions  of  angels'  (Mt  26''^'). 
Oriental  hyperbole  was  fully  employed  in  e.xpress- 
ing  the  magnitude  of  the  heavenly  army.  Rev  5" 
speaks  of  '  myriads  of  myriads  and  thousands  of 
thousands' ;  and  He  12=^  speaks  of  '  the  myriads  of 
angels ' — both  in  probable  allusion  to  Dn  7'".  In 
Job  25'  also  the  question  is  asked  :  '  Is  there  any 
number  of  his  armies  ? '  Similarly  the  Pal.  Targ. 
to  Ex  12'=  tells  of  90,000  myriads  of  destroying 
angels  ;  and  in  Dt  34^  the  same  Targuni  speaks  cf 
the  glory  of  the  Shekinah  being  revealed  to  the 
dying  Moses,  with  2000  myriads  of  angels  and 
42,0(XI  chariots ;  as  2  K  6"  tells  of  a  '  mountain 
full  of  horses  and  chariots  of  fire  round  about 
Elisha.' 

2.  They  form  a  court.  Heaven  is  'God's  throne' 
(Mt  5"  23--),  and  there  also  '  the  Son  of  Man  shall 
sit  on  the  throne  of  his  glory'  (Mt  lO-**).  The 
angels,  as  courtiers,  stand  in  v:ist  niuUiiudrs  before 
the  throne  (Rev  5"  7").  As  in  laiihly  .omt>  there 
are  gradations  of  rank  and  dijniiv.  -■>  in  lu'uven. 
It  is  St.  Paul  who  speaks  ni.ist  exi.liiitly  of  'the 
principalities  and  powers  in  the  heavenly  places' 
(Eph  3'°),  and  of  Christ's  being  '  exalted  far  above 
all  rule,  and  authority,  and  power,  and  dominion ' 
(Eph  l-^);  and  'evidently  Paul  regarded  tliem  as 
actually  existent  and  intelligent  forces'  (Robinson, 
in  loco) ;  but  the  same  conception  presents  itself  in 
the  Gospels  in  the  reference  to  archangels,  who 
were  four,  or  in  some  authors  seven,  in  number : 
Gabriel,  Raphael,  IMichael,  and  Uriel  being  those 
most  frequently  mentioned.  In  Lk  P*  the  angel 
wlio  appears  to  Zacharias  says :  '  I  am  Gabriel, 
that  stand  in  the  presence  of  God ' ;  as  in  To  12'' 
the  angel  says  to  Tobit :  '  I  am  Raphael,  one  of 
tlie  seven  holy  angels,  which  present  the  prayers 
of  the  saints  and  go  in  before  the  glory  of  the 
Holy  One.'  Even  in  the  OT  the  angels  are  spoken 
of  as  forming  'a  council':  e.g.  in  Ps  89',  where 
C;od  is  said  to  be  '  very  terrilile  in  the  council  of 
the  holy  ones,'  and  in  Ps  82'  where  He  is  said  to 
'  judge  amidst  the  Elohtm.'  This  idea  was  a  great 
favourite  Avith  later  Jews,  who  maintained  that 
'  God  does  nothing  without  consulting  the  family 
above '  (Sanhedrin,  386).  To  the  same  circle  of  ideas 
belong  the  words  of  the  Lord  Jesus :  '  Every  one  that 
shall  confess  me  before  men,  him  will  tlie  Son  of 
Man  confess  before  the  angels  of  (iod  ;  bnt  lie  that 
denieth  me  in  the  presence  of  men  shall  be  denied 
in  the  presence  of  the  angels  of  God'  (Lk  12'''-'). 
Evidently  the  angels  are  interested  spectators  of 
men's  behaviour,  responsive  to  their  victories  and 
defeats,  their  sins  and  struggles  ;  and  we  are  here 
taught  that  to  be  denied  before  such  a  \  r.  t  lo 
sponsive  assembly  intensifies  the  remm -e  of  the 
ajpostate,  as  to  be  confessed  before  tliein  uiteii-ities 
the  joy  of  those  who  are  'faithful  unto  deatli.' 
Agam,  in  many  courts,  and  particularly  in  that 
of  the  Persians,  there  were  -secretaries  or  scribes, 
whose  business  it  was  to  keep  a  '  book  of  records ' 
(Est  6'),  in  which  the  names  and  deeds  of  those 
who  had  deserved  well  of  the  king  \vere  hmioin 
ably  recorded.  The  metaphor  of  Inasiii  as  a 
palace  and  court  is  so  far  kept  up,  that  the  .lews 
often  spoke  of  hooks  in  heaven  in  >\lueli  men's 
deeds  are  recorded.  Not  only  do  we  read  in 
Slavonic  Enoch  19^  of  'angels  wlio  are  over  the 
souls  of  men,  and  who  write  down  all  their  works 


and  their  lives  before  the  face  of  the  Lord ' ;  and 
in    the   Ajiocalypse    of    John,   where    symbolism 


bounds,  of  'books'  being  'opened,'  and  of  the 
•dead'  being  'jiulged  according  to  what  was 
written  in  the  books ' :   but  even  in  an  Epistle 


of  St.  Paul  we  read  of  those  '  whose  names 
in  the  book  of  life'  (Ph  4=),  and  in  He  12-^  of 
'  the  church  of  the  firstborn  who  are  enrolled  in 
heaven ' ;  and  precisely  in  accord  with  the  above 
our  Lord  bade  His  disciples  rejoice,  because  their 
names  'are  written  in  heaven,'  i.e.  enrolled  for 
honour  (Lk  10-"). 

3.  They  form  a  choir  in  the  heavenly  temple. 
The  description  of  heaven  in  the  Apocalypse  is 
quite  as  much  that  of  a  temple  as  a  palace. 
Heaven  contains  its  altar  (8^  9"),  its  censers  (5^ 
8^),  its  musicians  (5^  lo=),  and  its  singers  (5"  14» 
l."i^).  Ill  I  \tia  r.iWical  literature  the  veil  is. often 
nnniiMih.l,  i  niic  ualing  the  abode  of  God  in  the 
Miisi  Holy  riaie,  within  which  the  archangels  are 
permitted  to  enter  (To  12'=-'*,  Enoch  40^).  The 
only  reference  in  the  Gospels  under  this  head  is 
the  song  of  the  angels,  described  in  Lk  2"'-.  It 
is  possible,  in  spite  of  the  reading  of  some  very 
ancient  Greek  MSS  (N*ABD),  that  this  song,  like 
tliat  of  the  seraphitn  in  Is  6'-,  is  a  triple  antiphonal 

'  Glory  to  God  in  the  highest  [heaven], 

Among  men  (Divinel  good  pleasure.' 

i.  They  are  'sons  of  God.'  In  this  respect  the 
saints  who  are  raised  again  are  'equal  to  the 
angels'  (Lk  20*=).  They  are  sons  of  God  by 
creation  and  by  obedience  (Job  1«  2'  38').  They 
'  do  not  owe  their  existence  to  the  ordinary  process 
of  filiation,  but  to  an  immediate  act  of  creation ' 
(Godet,  OT  Studies,  7) ;  thus  resembling  in  their 
origin  the  bodily  nature  of  those  who  are  '  sons  of 


are 


frequently  described  as  'holy'  (Mt 
Lk  9'-*,  Job  5'  15'=,  Dn  8"),  and  bj;  implication  we 
learn  that  angels  obey  God's  will  in  heaven,  since 
we  are  taught  by  our  Lord  to  pray  that  God's  holy 
w  ill  may  be  done  on  earth  as  it  is  in  heaven  (Mt  6'", 
cf.  Ps  103="). 

3.  They  are  free  from  scnsiioiis  feelings.  This 
is  taught  in  Mt  22""  'In  the  resurrection  they 
neither  marry  [as  men]  nor  are  given  in  marriage 
[as  women],  but  are  as  the  angels  of  God  in 
heaven.'  These  words  were  spoken  by  our  Lord 
in  response  to  the  doubts  of  the  Saddueees  on  the 
subject  of  the  resurrection.  Christ's  reply  is  in 
eflect  this :  The  source  of  your  error  is  that  you  do 
not  fully  recoOTize  the  power  of  God.  Yon  seem 
to  think  that  God  can  make  only  one  kind  of  body, 
with  one  sort  of  functions,  and  dependent  on  one 
means  of  life.  In  that  way  you  limit  unduly  the 
power  of  God.  'In  that  age'  (Lk  20^'),  'when 
they  rise  from  the  dead'  (Mk  12-^),  men  do  not  eat 
and  drink  ( Ro  14").  Not  being  mortal,  they  are  not 
dependent  on  food  for  nourishment,  nor  have  they, 
by  nature,  sensuous  appetites,  but  are  lai-yyeXoi 
('equal  to  the  angels').  Thus  skilfully  did  Jesus 
■/ive  a  double-edged  reply  to  the  teachings  of 
tlie  Saddueees  (Ac  238).  While  answering  their 
objection  against  the  resurrection.  He  affirms  that 
'  those  who  are  accounted  worthy  to  attain  to  that 
alwv,  and  the  resurrection  from  the  dead  .  .  .  are 
equal  to  the  angels' — thus  plainly  disclosing  His 
belief  in  angels  and  setting  it  over  against  their 
disbelief.  As  to  the  spiritual  nature  of  angels, 
Philo  speaks  of  them  as  acihiiaroi.  Kal  eiiSal/jioyei 
i/ixai  ('incorporeal  and  happy  souls') ;  and  again, 
as  'bodiless  souls,  not  mixtures  of  rational  and 
irrational  natures  as  ours  lu,-.  I.ut  Inn  in-  the  irra- 
tional nature  cut  out,  \vholl\  ini  rill -.  nl  ihrough- 
oul,   i.mv-ll.ouulits  (\o-,.^..  1   .  vJi,  ,,.   x,:,-o,)  like 

aiMona.r  (Uruiiiinoiid-syV,,'.-.  Ii:.-H7;  ,  f .  Plulo's 


ANGELS 


ANGELS 


55 


Confusion  of  Tongues,  p.  8,  Allegory,  iii.  62).  Tlie 
Babbis  interpreted  Dn  7"*  to  teach  that  the  nature 
of  the  angels  is  fire.  '  They  are  nourished  by  the 
radiance  which  streams  from  the  presence  of  God. 
They  need  no  material  nourishment,  and  their 
nature  is  not  responsive  to  bodily  pleasures ' 
(Weber,  Jiid.  Theol."  167  ;  Pesikta,  57a ;  Exodus 
R.  32).  They  are  also  said  to  be  '  spiritual  beings ' 
(Lev.  R.  24),  'without  sensuous  requirements' 
(Yoma,  lib),  'without  hatred,  envy,  or  jealousy' 
(Chag.  14).  The  Jewish  k-vnds  which  interpret 
Gn  6*  as  teaching  a  loniiniii^^liii.i;  of  angels  with 
women,  so  as  to  proilurc  •uiinhty  men,  men  of 
renown,'  seem  at  variaii((>  with  the  above  belief 
as  to  the  immunity  of  celestial  intelligences  from 
all  passion.  It  is  true  that  Jude  ^  and  Enoch  15'"' 
both  speak  of  the  angels  as  having  first  '  left  their 
habitation '  in  heaven  ;  but  the  fact  that  they  were 
deemed  capable  of  sexual  intercourse  implies  a 
much  coarser  conception  of  the  angelic  nature 
than  is  taught  in  the  words  of  our  Lord,  of  PhUo, 
and  of  the  Talmud. 

6>  They  have  extensive,  and  yet  limited,  know- 
ledge. This  is  clearly  taught  in  one  utterance  of 
Christ's,  recorded  in  Mt  243«||  Mk  13==  '  Of  that  day 
and  hour  knoweth  no  man,  not  even  the  angels 
of  heaven.'  The  implications  clearly  are  (1)  that 
angels  know  most  things,  far  better  than  men  ;  but 
(2)  that  there  are  some  things,  including  the  day  of 
the  Second  Advent,  which  they  do  not  know.  Both 
these  propositions  admit  of  copious  illustration 
from  Jewish  literature.  First,  as  to  their  exten- 
sive knowledge.  There  are  numerous  intimations 
of  the  scientific  skill  of  the  angels,  their  acquaint- 
ance with  the  events  of  human  lives,  and  their 
prescience  of  future  events.  The  Book  of  Jubilees, 
a  pre-Christian  work  extensively  read,  affirms  (1^) 
that  Moses  was  taught  by  Gabriel  concerning 
Creation  and  the  things  narrated  in  Genesis  ;  that 
angels  taught  Noah  herbal  remedies  (10'=),  and 
brought    to   Jacob    seven    tablets    recording   the 


history  of  his  posterity  {3'2-').     In  Enoch 

is  said  to  have  taught  iiiun  metallurgy  and  other 

sciences ;  as  rnjinetheus  was  said  to  have  taught 


the  Greeks.  In  To  12'=  the  angel  assures  Tobit 
that  he  was  familiar  with  all  the  events  of  his 
troublous  days :  as  in  2  S  14"-  ="  the  woman  of 
Tekoa  flatters  Joab  that  he  was  'as  wise  as  an 
angel  of  God  to  know  all  things  that  are  in  the 
earth.'  But  this  knowledge  hii.s  its /t»jj<*.  Angels 
were  supposed  to  understand  no  language  but  He- 
brew (Chagigah,  16«).  In  2  Es  4=^  in  revealing 
eschatological  events,  the  nnL'il  ^jivcs  the  tokens 
of  the  comiiiL;- cihI,  Imt  rdiilV^-o  lii,  i'_jin.r;iiK-e  as 
to  whether  Esilr:i.^  «  ill  l.r  .'ilur  ji  ilniiiDc.  The 
Midrash  on  I's  ■_'.")"  .•iirirms  th.it  ■iiulliin-  i,  liidden 
from  the  anj;.-!-;  ■  ;  l.ut  .icr.inliir,;  {>•  S,i,i/,ri/riii, 
99a,  andotln-i-  ■I'alniuilic  |.,i>.-.i  ■(■,-,  •  ilir\-  know  not 
the  time  of  Israel's  iiilriii|i(ii;ii.  In  I  I'  1'- we  are 
told  that  'the  aii-els  d.-sii.- '  (Imt  iu  \,iiii)  -to  look 
into'  some  of  the  NT  mysteries ;  and  in  Slav. 
Enoch  24=  40=,  Enoch  tells  his  children  that  not 
even  the  angels  know  the  secrets  which  he  discloses 
to  them. 

7.  They  t„b'  „  ,h,i,  u,lnr.t  ,„  //„■  ,„lr„(io„  of 
men.  We  galhn-  ihi-  fi,,hi  Ih,.  i-vidi'iit  jcjy  with 
which  angels  aiiiiiiuiiiTil  ih,.  aihi'iii  ,,t  tlie'.\ii-ssiah 
to  the  shepheiils  a(  iH-thli'licm.  The  aii"el  wim 
brought  the  '  tidings  of  great  joy  '  (Lk  2"'relearly 
felt  the  joy  himself ;  and  the  song  which  the 
heavenly  host  sang  in  praise  to  God  was  the  out- 
come of  joyous  hearts.  Even  more  explicitly  is 
this  taught  in  Lk  IS'"  'There  is  joy  in  the  pres- 
ence of  the  angels  of  God  over  one  sinner  that 
repenteth.'  The  word  ivwwiov  seems  here  to  mean 
'in  the  midst  of,'  'among.'  'Joy  is  manifest  on 
every  countenance.'  Even  if  the  joy  intended  be 
'  the  joy  of  God,  which  breaks  forth  in  presence  of 


the  angels'  (Godet,  in  loco),  still  the  implication 
would  be  that  the  heart  of  the  angelic  throng  is 
en  rapport  with  the  heart  of  '  the  happy  God.' 
On  this  point  the  words  of  the  angel  are  instruc- 
tive which  are  recorded  in  Rev  22'°  '  1  am  a 
fellow-servant  with  thee  and  with  thy  brethren 
tfie  prophets,  and  with  them  that  keep  the  words 
of  this  book.'  The  interpreting  angel  confesses  to 
unity  of  service  with  the  Church,  and  in  so  doing 
implies  a  oneness  of  sympathy  and  love  with  the 
saints.  So  also  when,  in  1  P  1'=,  we  read  that '  the 
angels  desire  to  look  into '  the  marvels  of  redemp- 
tion, there  is,  as  Dr.  Hort  says,  '  a  glimpse  of  the 
fellowship  of  angels  with  prophets  and  evangelists, 
and  implicitly  with  the  sutt'ering  Christians  to 
whom  St.  Peter  wrote.'  The  same  deep  interest 
in  the  progress  of  the  Church  appears  in  Eph  3'°, 
where  we  are  taught  that  one  great  purpose  which 
moved  God  to  enter  on  the  work  of  human  salva- 
tion was,  that  '  through  the  Church  the  manifold 
wisdom  of  God  might  be  made  known  to  the 
principalities  and  powers  in  heavenly  places.'  The 
Church  on  earth  is  the  arena  on  which  the  attri- 
butes of  God  are  displayed  for  the  admiration  and 
adoration  of  'the  family  in  heaven'  (Eph  3"^). 

ii.  Angels  as  Visitants  to  Earth. — 1.  To 
convey  messages  from  God  to  man.— (a)  In  dreams. 
It  is  a  peculiarity  of  the  Gospel  of  the  Infancy,  as 
recorded  by  St.  Matthew,  that  the  appearances  of 
the  angels  are  in  dreams  to  Joseph,  bidding  him 
acknowledge  Mary  as  his  wife  (Mt  1=°),  take  the 
young  child  and  His  mother  to  Egypt  (2'=),  and 
return  to  Palestine  on  the  death  of  Herod  (21"). 
The  only  OT  parallel  to  this  is  Gn  31",  where 
Jacob  tells  his  wives  that '  the  angel  of  God  spake ' 
to  him  '  in  a  dream. ' 

(b)  In  other  instances  the  message  of  the  angel  is 
brought  in  full,  wakeful  consciousness.  It  was 
while  Zacharias  was  ministering  at  the  altar  of 
incense  in  the  Holy  Place  that  an  angel  who  called 
himself  Gabriel  appeared,  foretelling  the  birth  of 
John  (Lk  1").  It  was  while  the  shepherds  were 
keeping  watch  over  their  llu,  k  thai  llie  angel  stood 
near  them  and  diier(i;.|  tlieiu  in  the  hahe  in  Beth- 
lehem (Lk2^-");  and  it  is  i.ai  rated  Iiy  the  three 
Synoptists  that  it  was  through  angelic  agency 
that  the  disciples  were  informed  of  the  Ilesurrec- 
tion.  St.  Matthew  narrates  that  it  was  an  angel 
who  had  '  descended  from  heaven '  (2S=),  that  spoke 
to  the  women  at  the  tomb  (28'5-').  St.  Mark 
speaks  of  a  young  man  'arrayed  in  a  white  robe' 
(16=),  and  St.  Luke  of  'two  men  in  dazzling 
apparel'  (24^),  who  assured  the  women  that  Christ 
«as  risen.  The  author  of  the  Fourth  Gospel  is 
silent  as  1o  angelic  appearances  at  the  Resurrec- 
tion, liut  he  bears  testimony  to  the  popular  belief 
in  angelic  voices  (Jn  12=').  When  a  voice  came 
from  heaven,  saying,  'I  have  glorified  and  will 
a'jain  glorify  (my  name),'  the  Evangelist  records  : 
'Some  of  the  people  said,  An  angel  spake  to  him.' 

We  reserve  for  si..vial  (  un.id.iation  the  sacredly 
mysterious  intervi(\\  .i  ilie  an-el  (iabriel  with  the 
Virgin  Mary  (Lk  1  i.  I'he  salutation  of  the 
angel  was:  'Hail,  tliou  tavoured  one  !  The  Lord 
is  with  thee.'  When  she  was  perplexed  at  the 
sa\  iiiLj ,  1  he  angel  announced  :  '  Thou  shalt  conceive 
ill'  thy  «omb  and  bear  a  son,  and  shalt  call  his 
name' .lesus.'  This  Son  is  further  described  as 
'Sun  of  the  Most  High'  and  He  to  whom  'the 
Lord  God  will  give  the  throne  of  his  father  David.' 
Then,  in  reply  to  the  Virgin's  further  doubts  and 
perplexities,  the  angel  vouchsafes  the  dread  ex- 
planation, 'The  Holy  Ghost  shall  come  upon  thee, 
and  the  power  (Sivaius)  of  the  Most  High  shall 
overshadow  thee.  ...  No  word  from  God  shall  be 
devoid  of  power.'    The  full  consideration  of  these 


words  will  be  fittingly  considered  under  ANNUNCIA- 
TION (which  see).     On  us  it  seems 


devolve  to 


5G 


ANGELS 


ANGELS 


speak  of  the  view  wliich  arose  very  early  in  Jewish 
Christian  ci'rrlps,  nml  whicli  regarded  the  angel  as 
not  merely  tin'  im— iMi;j.r,  but  the  cause  of  the 
conception.  ll  \.,i-  :<.  mineral  belief  among  the 
Jews  that  a  j-iKiktii  wonl  lius  causal  efficacy.  This 
lay  at  the  rool  ul  the  belief  in  the  potency  of  spells 
and  charms.  And  if  every  sjiolien  word  is  mighty, 
the  words  of  God  are  almighty.  The  expression 
'  No  word  from  (Tapi)  God  shall  be  devoid  of 
power'  (Lk  1^')  was  accordingly  interpreted  to 
mean  that  the  message  brought  from  God  througli 
the  angel  had  causal  efficacy :  the  Divine  word 
spoken  by  the  angel  caused  the  conception.  In 
the  Proteoangdium  of  James  (11-)  the  angel  is 
recorded  to  have  said  :  '  Tliou  shalt  conceive  from 
His  word'  (eV  toO  \byou  airrov),  and  the  same  ex- 
pression occurs  in  the  Arabic  Gospel  of  ike  Infancy. 
Tliis  is  the  origin  of  tlie  curious  doctrine  of  the 
ancient  Church,  that  the  Virgin  conceived  through 
the  ear.^  The  word  of  tlie  angel,  which  was  a 
Divine  message,  reached  the  Virgin  through  the 
ear.  The  ear  was  thus  believed  to  be  the  channel 
througli  which  the  Divine  potency  was  operative. 
Even  Augustine  says  :  '  Virgo  per  aiireni  impreg- 
nabatur.'  As  bearing  on  this  subject,  we  may 
note  that  in  the  Ascension  of  Isaiah  the  angel 
Gabriel  is  called  '  the  angel  of  the  Holy  Spirit ' 
(316  723  ()3ii)_  jn  pseudo-Matthew  (c.  10),  Joseph  says  : 
'  Why  do  ye  mislead  me  to  believe  tliat  an  angel 
of  the  Lord  hath  made  her  pregnant  ? '  and  in  the 
Protcvangelkim  of  James  the  Virgin  explains  her 
condition  to  Joseph  in  these  words :  '  The  ease  is 
the  same  as  it  was  with  Adnia  wliom  God  created. 
He  said,  "Let  him  In- "  :  ^uid  he  was.' 

2.  Angelsas  perfur,,ii)ii/  /i/i'/ur,,/  actions.  This 
is  an  ancient  reprcMiit.iiiDii  nt  which  the  OT 
furnishes  many  instaiirr>  :  1'^  !)P"-  (eited  ^114",  Lk 
4'"'-),  'angels.  .  .  sliall  l..,n  t  li>c  u|m,u  their  hands' ; 
in  Dn  6'--  angels  sluit  tin-  Ih.h-,'  mouths;  in  Ps34'' 
angels  encamp  ro\niil  .ilmnt  tlirm  that  fear  God  ; 
so  in  Apocryplia  (Bel  ^",  Three  -").  It  is  therefore 
precisely  in  accord  with  Jewish  modes  of  thouglit 
that  we  read  in  Mt  28^  'Tliere  was  a  great  earth- 
quake :  for  an  angel  of  the  Lord  descended  from 
heaven,  and  came  and  rolled  away  the  stone' ;  and 
in  Mk  V  '  He  was  with  the  wild  beasts  ;  and  tlie 
angels  ministered  unto  him '  (cf.  Mt  4"). 

3.  As  performing  psi/chical  actions.  When  Jesus 
was  in  the  garden,  ani  '  being  in  an  agony  jirayed 
more  earnestly,'  we  are  told  that  '  there  appeared 
to  him  an  angel  from  heaven  strengthcninq  him ' 
(Lk  22«).*  So  in  Dn  10"'-  Daniel  records  that 
there  was  'no  strength  in  him,  and  no  breath 
left  in  him,'  and  an  an^l  '  touched  him  and 
strengthened  him.'  The  Hebrews  drew  no  dis- 
tinction between  the  physical  and  the  psychical. 
It  was  in  their  regard  just  as  easy  for  these 
siiiritual  existences  to  roll  away  a  stone  as  to 
infuse  vigour  into  the  system,  and  give  power  to 
the  enfeebled  nerves  and  will. 

4.  Angels  are  deputed  to  guard  the  righteous 
from  danger.  In  Gn  24'  Abraliam  prays  for  his 
servant:  'May  God  send  his  angel  before  thee'; 
and  Jacob  saw  angels  '  ascending  and  descending ' 
over  him  in  his  sleep  (Gn  28'-).  In  the  time  of 
Christ  it  was  a  Jewish  belief  not  merely  that 
angels  are  sent  to  guide  and  guard  men,  but  also 
that  every  man  lias  his  oivn  guardian  spirit,  or,  as 
others  teach,  two  guardians.  In  the  Talmudic 
treatise  Beml-hoth  (606),  when  a  man  goes  into  an 
unch'rin  ]il'ifi'  hp  prays  his  guardian  angels  to  wait 

(int-il  ■  I'M  1 'inns.     In  Pal.  Targum  to  Gn  33'" 

Jai'  i'  '  I  i  HI,  'I  have  seen  thy  face  as  if  I 
saw  Mm  i,i.,  ,1  ///)/  angel';  on  Gn  48'"  the  same 
Taimuii  iiaiU;  ■  May  the  angel  whom  thou  hast 
assigned  to  me  bless  the  lads.'     Similarly  the  Solutr 


*  On  the  question  of  the  genuineness  of  this  passage 
s'otes  on  Select  Readings  'in  Westcott  and  Hort' s  NT  in 


Greek. 


to  Exodus  (p.  190)  says ;  '  From  the  13th  year  of 
a  man  and  onwards,  God  assigns  to  every  man  two 
angels,  one  on  the  right  hand  and  one  on  the  left ; 
and  the  Testament  of  Joseph  (c.  6)  names  the  angel 
of  Abraham  as  the  guardian  of  Joseph.  It  is 
here  more  than  elsewhere  that  we  seem  to  recog- 
nize the  influence  of  Persia  on  Jewish  beliefs. 

The  question  now  occurs.  What  connexion  is 
there  between  the  above  and  Mt  18"'  '  See  that  ye 
despise  not  one  of  these  little  ones,  for  I  say  unto 
you,  that  their  angels  in  heaven  continually  behold 
the  face  of  my  Father  who  is  in  heaven'?  It  is 
evident  that  'their  angels'  means  angels  that 
watch  over  them.  But  did  our  Lord  refer  to  the 
'angels  of  the  presence'  or  to  individual  guardian 
angels?  The  former  is  more  probable  for  two 
reasons— (1)  It  was  not  part  of  the  Jewish  creed 
that  any  angels  behold  the  face  of  God  except 
the  archangels ;  (2)  the  guardian  spirits  accom- 
panying men  on  earth  could  hardly  at  the  same 
time  be  said  to  be  in  heaven  continually  beholding 
the  face  of  the  Father  who  is  in  heaven.  The 
allusion  probably  is,  then,  to  the  'angels  of  the 
presence,'  and  especially  to  Michael  the  guardian 
of  the  pious  and  the  helpless.  It  must  be  admitted 
that  in  Ac  12'^  we  seem  to  have  the  popular  Jewish 
notion  in  all  its  later  development.  When  many 
brethren  were  met  in  the  house  of  Mary,  mother 
of  John  Mark,  and  were  unable  to  believe  that 
Peter  had  really  been  delivered,  they  said  to 
Khoda,  first,  'Thou  art  mad,'  and  then,  'It  is  his 
angel.'  This,  if  pushed  to  its  apparent  implica- 
tions, seems  to  contain  an  allusion  to  a  notion 
which  occurs  in  some  Jewish  writings,  that  heaven 
is  a  counterpart  of  earth,  and  every  man  has  his 
double  in  the  celestial  sphere ;  or  at  all  events  tlie 
guardian  angel  is  like  him  whom  he  guards.  It 
is  quite  likely,  however,  that  on  the  lips  of  the 
disciples  these  words  might  be  merely  an  allusion 
to  a  popular  conception,  without  carrying  with 
them  any  literal  belief. 

5.  Angels  visit  wrath  on  the  adversaries  of  the 
righteoiis.  This  is  implied  in  Christ's  words  :  '  See 
that  ye  despise  not  one  of  these  little  ones'  (Mt 
IS'").  The  word  opare  implies  '  beware  ! '  and  the 
teaching  clearly  is  that  angels  are  capable  of 
punishing  any  who  injure  tliose  whom  it  is  their 
business  to  guard.  The  OT  contains  instances  of 
their  punitive  abilities.  It  was  an  angel  of  the 
Lord  who  smote  185,000  in  the  camp  of  the 
Assyrians  (2  K  19^),  and  who  destroyed  the  chil- 
dren of  Israel  till,  when  he  came  to  Jerusalem,  the 
Lord  said  to  him,  '  It  is  enough '  ('2  S  24''') ;  and  Ps 
3.5='-  2)resents  a  picture  calculated  to  inspire  terror 
in  every  breast:  'Let  them  be  as  chaff  before  the 
wind,  the  angel  of  the  Lord  driving  them  on.  Let 
their  way  be  dark  and  slippery,  the  angel  of  the 
Lord  pursuing  them.'  It  is  very  noteworthy  that 
the  Lord  Jesus,  even  in  His  hour  of  intensest 
agony,  drew  lonifiut  finm  the  thought  of  angelic 
help.  It  Ma-~  a  11  a  I  ( oaifcirt  to  Him  that  the  angels 
were  at  iln  xaitiul,  if  He  needed  them.  The 
military  ''■nul  kal  l>y  Judas  could  not  arrest  or 
injure  Him  unless  He  voluntarily  submitted  Him- 
self to  them.  He  had  'authority  to  lay  down' 
His  'life' ;  and  when  the  struggle  was  over,  and 
the  resolve  retaken  that  the  path  of  the  cross  was 
the  path  of  duty,  He  conveyed  to  the  Eleven  the 
fact  of  His  self-surrender  by  saying  to  Peter,  who 
had  impetuously  used  the  sword  in  his  Lord's 
defence,  '  Thinkest  thou  that  I  cannot  now  beseech 
the  Father,  and  he  would  even  now  send  me  more 
than  twelve  legions  of  angels '  ?  (Mt  26*^).  We  note 
here  that  tlie  prayer  is  not  to  be  addressed  to 
angels.  There  are  very  few  instances  of  Jews 
praying  to  angels.  The  Piabbis  discouraged  it. 
Every  pious  Jew  would,  as  Jesus  did,  pray  to  God 
that  He  would  send  angelic  ministry  ;  as  in  2  Mac 


ANGELS 


57 


15=^,  where  Judas  is  said  to  have  prayed :  '  O 
sovereign  Lord,  send  a  good  angel  before  us  to 
bring  terror  and  trembling.' 

6.  Angels  render  aid  at  death.  Lk  16^  '  Lazarus 
■was  carried  away  by  the  angels  into  Abraham's 
bosom.'  We  come  liere  upon  a  widespread  belief 
among  Jews  and  Jewish  Christians — that  angels 
convey  the  soul.s  of  tlie  righteous  to  Paradise. 
Michael  is  usually  the  one  entrusted  with  this 
duty.  If  he  has  a  companion,  it  is  Gabriel.  The 
Gospel  of  Nkodemus  records  that  when  Jesus  de- 
scended into  Hades  and  released  the  righteous 
dead  from  captivity.  He  delivered  Adam  and  all 
the  righteous  to  the  archangel  Michael,  and  all 
the  saints  followed  Michael ;  and  he  led  them  all 
into  the  glorious  gate  of  Paradise :  among  them 
being  the  penitent  thief.  Tlie  History  of  Joseph 
the  Carpenter  records  that  Michael  and  Gabriel 
drew  out  the  soul  of  Joseph  and  wrapped  it  in  a 
silken  napkin,  and  amid  the  songs  of  angels  took 
him  to  his  good  Father,  even  to  the  dwelling-place 
of  the  just.  In  the  Testament  of  Abraham  we 
have  a  similar  account  of  the  death  of  Abraham. 
The  Ascension  of  Isaiah  (1'^)  affirms  that  '  those 
who  love  the  Most  High  and  His  Beloved  will 
ascend  to  heaven  by  the  Angel  of  the  Holy  Spirit.' 

7.  Angels  are  to  be  the  ministrants  of  Christ  at 
His  Seeond  Advent.  'The  reapers'  in  tlie  great 
Harvest  '  are  angels ' ;  and  they  separate  the  tares 
from  the  wheat  (Mt  13'-').  'Tlie  Son  of  Man  will 
send  forth  his  angels  to  gather  out  all  that  offend ' 
(Mt  13^').  '  He  shall  come  in  his  glory,  and  all  the 
holy  angels  with  him'  (Mt  25^').  '  He  shall  send 
forth  his  angels  with  the  great  sound  of  a  trumpet 
to  gather  the  elect '  (Mt  243' ;  cf.  1  Th  4",  2Th  1'). 

8.  To  complete  our  survey,  we  must  add  one 
word  as  to  the  appeai-ance  of  angels  when  men 
•were  conscious  of  their  presence.  It  is  taken  for 
granted  that  there  needs  to  be  a  preparation  of 
vision  before  man  can  recognize  tlieir  presence. 
As  Balaam  was  unaware  that  the  angel  con- 
fronted him  until  the  Lord  opened  his  eyes  (Nu 
22^'),  and  as  Klislia  inayud  that  God  would  open 
the  eyes  of  his  sL'ivan't  (2  K  6"),  so  when  the 
risen  Jesus  appeared  to  Sua  I  of  Tarsus,  those  who 
travelled  with  him  'saw  no  man'  (Ac  9').  («) 
Angels  had  a  manlike  appearance.  As  Abraham 
and  Manoah's  wife  mistook  them  for  men  (On  IS"^, 
Jg  13^),  so,  in  describing  the  Resurrection,  St.  Mark 
says  that  the  women  '  saw  a  young  man '  ( 16''),  and 
St.  Luke  that  '  two  men  stood  by  them '  (24^).— (6) 
Their  appearance  was  usually  with  brilliant  light 
or  'glory.'  When  the  .anp'l  appeared  to  tlie  slu-p- 
herds,  'the  glory  of  tin-  Lord  -linni-  i(,uuil  alumt 
them'(Lk2''),  and  wlirii  tie-  Sm,  ,,i  Man  c.niieth. 
He  will  come  'in  the  uloi  \  ,,f  \\„-  li.,lv  .uejols'  (Lk 


92«).  So  in  To  :\"\ 
both  was  hear. I  1 
Raphael' ;  in  ■_:  M.i 
'notable  in  tlieir  > 
glory ' ;  and  the  I^i 
that  'an  angel  of 
light  to  Joachim. '- 
luminousness.     Mt 


ills 


rer  oi 
great 
L'ared, 


reat 


lightning,  and  his  raiment 
~        «,  Ezk  v, : 


_  „  5  snow ' ;  cf. 

Dn  10«,  Ezk  V\  Rev  1»  19'^  So  Apoc.  of  Peter 
says  of  the  angels,  '  their  body  was  whiter  than 
any  snow.' 

iii.  Differences  between  NT  and  Rabbinism 
AS  TO  Angels.— We  undertook  to  show  that  '  in 
Mie  main  Christ  and  His  Apostles  appropriated 
the  Angelology  of  Judaism ' ;  and  the  above  sys- 
tematic treatment  has  surely  rendered  this  evi- 
dent. It  has  often  been  observed  that  '  Jesus  says 
very  little  about  angels' ;  and,  so  far  as  the  bulk 
of  His  sayings  is  concerned,  this  is  quite  true ;  but 
when  we  classify  His  utterances,  we  find  that  they 
constitute  almost  a  complete  Angelology  ;  and  so 


far  as  it  goes,  it  is  in  harmony  with  the  Jewish 
beliefs  of  the  period.  The  Jews  believed  all  that 
the  NT  says  of  angels,  but  they  al.so  believed  nmch 
more. 

1.  It  is  very  significant  that  the  Gospels  are 
silent  as  to  the  mediation  of  angels.  In  Judaism 
this  was  very  prominent.  In  Tobit,  e.g.,  one  great 
function  of  angels  is  said  to  be  to  cany  tlie  prayers 


ot  saints  within  tl 
Holy  One  (1 


lie 


Aj,„r.ofl:,nnl,(, 
great  receptacle  i 
placed  to  be  carrie( 
sence  of  the  Divii 
i.  100).     In  the  Mi. 


before  the  glory  of  the 

■ cer  says  : 

intercede 
iipplicate 
he  Greek 
II  have  a 
men  are 
otliepre- 
Iddies,  V. 


Ivash  Exvduiillabba  21  an  angel 
set  o\ei-  tie'  inaycrs  of  men  is  said  to  weave  them 
into  iio\\  ii~  1. 11  I  lie  Most  High.— But  not  only  are 
the  (:o.-.i.(l,-.  (/'/(/  as  to  the  need  of  angels  to  be 
mediatuis  in  caiiyiiig  the  prayers  and  necessities 
of  saints  into  the  unapproaeli.il  lie  c!i;iinlier  of  the 
Most  High,  the  teaching  of  .le.-n,,  \\.i>  .li  M;;iied  to 
counteract  such  a  view  of  Goil.  \\  leiL  our  Lord 
said :  '  Your  heavenly  Father  knowetli  that  ye 
have  need  of  all  these  things'  (Mt  6^-);  'Your 
heavenly  Father  feedeth  the  fowls '  (6^'') ;  '  Thy 
Father  seeth  in  secret'  (6'*) ;  '  Pray  to  thy  Father 
Avho  is  in  secret '  (6'*),— He  certainly  wished  to  break 
down  the  barriers  which  the  Jewish  mind  had 
placed  between  itself  and  God,  and  encourage  men 
to  come  direct  to  the  Father  in  childlike  confidence. 

2.  In  other  re.speets  the  only  diH'erence  is,  that 
the  Gospels  are  free  from  the  extravagant  embel- 
lishment in  whicli  the  Kabbis  indulged,  when 
speaking  of  angels  :  ('/)  as  to  their  .vise.  The  Tal- 
mudic  treatise  Chaqigiih  (Vih)  says  that  Sandalfon 
is  taller  than  his  fellows  by  the  length  of  a  journey 
of  500  years;  and  the  Gospd  cf  Peter  (c.  9)  tells 
how  the  Roman  soldiers  saw  two  men  descend 
from  heaven,  aoil  the  head  of  tlie  two  reached 
unto  heaven,  Inii  ihnl  ol  Him  whom  they  released 
from  the  toml.  o\ei|M-sed  the  heavens. — (h)  As 
to  a  fondncs.s  fur  the  marvellous  in  describing 
their  appearance  and  actions.  For  instance,  Yoma 
21a  narrates  how  a  high  priest  was  killed  by  an 
angel  in  the  Holy  of  Holies,  and  the  impress  of 
a  calf's  foot  was  found  between  his  shoulders. 
Joshua  ben  Pananiah  is  reported  to  have  told 
the  Emperor  Hadrian  that  God  hears  the  song  of 
new  angels  every  day.  AVhen  asked  whence  they 
coiiie,  he  replied,  'From  the  fiery  stream  which 
isHir-  fi,,m  the  throne  of  God '  (Dn  7'") ;  seeBacher, 
Ag.nh,  ,l,r  Tannaiten,  i.  178.— (c)  The  Jews  also 
spi'iulaled  much  as  to  the  origin  of  the  angels, 
tlieir  connexion  with  the  four  elements,  etc.  ;  and 
they  had  ingenious  methods  ot  eoni|Hitini;-  their 
number  by  ^Cabbalistic  Oetii'iliin  tie-  \\  leile  thing 
being  the  extravaganza  of  Uiieiital  iili.iiit.isy. 

iv.  The  objective  value  of  tiik  NT  doctrine 
OF  Angels.— The  most  difficult  part  of  our  task 
now  awaits  us,  to  give  some  account  of  modem 
views  as  to  the  rcalitif  of  angels,  and  to  discuss 
whether  there  are  valid  re,i-oiis  why  we,  as  I'liris- 
tians,  are  bound  to  ;Mre|it  tie-  iu-'uh'i  firr  NT 
teaching  as  to  the  an.uelii-  niiiii-t  ry.  I'.MTy  ('Ini-- 
tian  must  feel  that  it  is  ol  vei  y  -le.-tt  imipiu  laie  e 
to  decide  whether  the  Lord  Jesus  really  helieved 
in  the  objective  existence  and  ministrations  of 
angels.  To  this  r|uestion  the  present  writer  feels 
obii'jed  to  liive  an  atlinii.'it ive  reply  [but  see  art. 
Ari'.iMM(iie\Tl<>\,  :ili.e,',  |..  -Jo],  .-nid  that  for  the 
follow  iii'j  iva-oiix:  ill  'rill. iiL'li  .li'Mis  did  not  speak 
niueli  eonceiiiiiiu  anui  I,,  \i  I  Ih-  i  eeorded  sayings 
cover,  with  soiiie  latcut'ional  exceptions,  almost 
the  complete  Angelology  of  the  Jews— which  is 
evidence  that  He  was,  in  the  main,  in  agreement 


58 


ANGELS 


ANGELS 


with  it.  (2)  If  the  disciples  had  been  radically 
mistaken  on  this  subject,  surely  this  is  a  matter 
as  to  which  Christ's  words  were  applicable  :  '  If  it 
were  not  so,  I  would  have  told  you,'  Jn  14^.  (3) 
In  controversy  witli  the  Sadducees,  who  were 
sceptical  as  to  angels.  He  adroitly  gave  them  such 
a  reply  to  their  objection  against  tlie  resurrection 
as  to  show  that  the  existence  and  nature  of  angels 
was  to  Him  a  settled  matter,  and  miglit  be  used 
to  elucidate  the  nature  of  the  resurrection  body. 
Tliere  is  a  wealth  of  conviction  in  the  words  of 
Jesus  :  '  Tliose  who  rise  again  are  like  the  angels.' 
(4)  Christ  made  mention  of  angels  not  merely  in 
the  parables,  where  we  expect  symbolism  and  pic- 
torial illustration,  but  also  in  the  interpretation 
(Mt  133»-  "•  ").  (5)  He  used  the  punitive  ability  of 
angels  to  warn  men  against  despising  the  little 
ones  in  His  kingdom  (Mt  18'").  Apart  from  a 
literal  belief  iu  angels,  such  words  are  an  empty 
tlireat.  (6)  In  the  time  of  His  most  intense  agony 
He  evidently  derived  comfort  from  the  loving  sym- 
pathy of  the  'cloud  of  witnesses';  for  when  He 
emerges  from  the  trial  and  its  bitterness  is  past, 
He  assures  Peter  that,  had  He  permitted  it,  more 
than  twelve  legions  of  angels  would  readily  have 
intervened  to  deliver  Him  (Mt  26*').  —  Stevens 
(Theology  of  NT,  p.  80)  is  impressed  by  other  pas- 
sages. '  In  several  places,'  he  says,  '  Christ  seems 
to  refer  to  angels  in  such  a  way  as  to  show  that 
He  believed  in  their  real  existence.  He  will 
"  come  in  the  glory  of  his  Father  with  his  holy 
angels"  (Mk  8^).  "Angels  m  heaven"  neither 
marry  nor  are  given  in  marriage  (Mk  12^).  Of 
the  hour  of  his  Advent  "  not  even  the  angels  in 
heaven"  know  (Mk  13^2),' 

In  recent  times  the  views  of  scholars  are  mucli 
divided  on  this  subject.  1.  There  are  large  sections 
of  the  universal  Church  to  whom  the  existence  of 
anjjels  is  very  real,  not  only  as  a  matter  of  theo- 
retical belief,  but  as  a  matter  of  religious  experi- 
ence. They  set  great  value  on  the  services  of 
angels  as  mediators  between  themselves,  in  their 
sins  and  needs  and  miseries,  and  the  holy,  infinite 
God  ;  and  they  deliglit  to  think  that  the  s]>iritual 
strength  and  light  and  sucmur  whirh  cunie  to 
them  in  answer  to  prayer,  mr\\  tlnir  !..«•  estate 
througlithemediationof  angtls.  \\'i- ini-ht  readily 
quote  from  saints  of  the  Greek  and  Roman  Churches 
on  this  head,  but  we  prefer  to  give  the  '  disclosures ' 
of  Swedenborg.  '  According  to  him,  we  are  every 
moment  in  the  most  vital  association  with  the 
spirits  both  of  heaven  and  hell.  They  are  tlie 
perpetual  prompters  of  our  thoughts  :  t"Iiey  inces- 
santly work  by  insinuating  influences  on  our  loves  ; 
and  they  give  force  on  the  one  hand  to  the  power 
of  temptation,  and  on  the  other  fortify  the  soul, 
by  hidden  influx,  to  resist  temptation  (Rev.  G. 
Bush,  Disclosures  of  Swedenborg,  79). 

2.  There  are  many  who  believe  in  angels  theo- 
retically. They  take  the  teaching  of  tlie  NT  in 
a  thoroughly  literal  sense.  They  are  prepared  to 
maintain  and  contend  that  Jesus  Christ  believed 
in  tlu-  ic  ;il  i\i-iiiiri-  (if  an;^('l*  :  iind,  inconsequence, 
;i  l.i'lin"  ii,  ,11, :■,.],  iMiiu,  [.arl  m'  their  '  creed'  ;  but 
an;:cl~  W.w'  ihi  jurt  in  tlicir  iiiiirr  religious  life. 
Some  achiiit,  ii..l  \viUi(nit  re.uret  and  self-reproach, 
that  angels  do  not  seem  .so  real  t'l  them  as  fliey 
did  to  Jesus;  while  others  are  reliutaiil  lna.liiiii 
that  it  can  be  a  fault  to  yearn  as  tlieydci  fur  hr.nt 
to-heart  fellowship  with  God  IliMisel'l,  withmil  lie- 
intervention  of  an  angel  ministry  —  to  seek  fui- 
direct  interaction  witli  God,  without  even  the 
holiest  angel  intervening  in  the  sacredness  of  the 
communion.  As  a  specimen  of  this  attitude,  we 
quote  Jrom  an  article  in  the  First  Series  of  the 
Expositor  (viii.  40911.)  by  R.  Winterbotham  :  'I 
do  not  mean  to  imply  that  we  disbelieve  either  the 
existence  or  the  ministry  of  angelic  beings :   we 


cannot  do  so  without  rejecting  and  denying  point 
blank  tlie  unquestioned  and  unquestionable  dicta 
of  our  Lord  and  of  His  apostles.  But  I  do  say 
that  our  belief  in  angels  is  formal  only,  or  at  the 
best  merely  i>oetic.  It  does  not  strike  its  roots 
down  into  our  religious  consciousness,  into  tliat 
inner  and  unseen,  but  most  real  and  often  passion- 
ate, life  of  the  soul  towards  God  and  the  powers 
of  the  world  to  come.' 

3.  There  are  others  yet  again  who  set  such  a 
high  value  on  the  immediacy  of  the  interaction  of 
fellowship  with  God,  believing,  as  they  do,  tliat  it 
was  the  chief  feature  of  Christ's  teaching  to  reveal 
the  possibility  of  fellowship  with  God  as  our  Father 
—or  led  perhaps  by  scientific  predilections  to  feel 
tliat  there  is  now  no  room  for  angels  in  our  modern 
world— that  they  sweep  away  the  intervention  of 
angels,  and  are  reluctant  to  admit  that  the  Lord 
Jesus  really  believed  in  their  existence.  They 
would  believe  rather  that  He  accommodated  Him- 
self in  this  matter  to  current  popular  notions.  For 
instance,  Beyschlag  maintains  that '  the  immediate 
relation  to  the  world  in  wliich  Jesus  viewed  His 
heavenly  Father  left  no  room  for  such  i)ersonal 
intermediate  beings'  [as  tlie  .lews  uf  tliat  time  be- 
lieved in].  In  passages  like  Lk  1_'^  ami  15'"  angels 
are  'a  poetic  paraphrase  for  Cml  Himself.'  'The 
holy  angels  of  the  Son  of  Man,  with  whom  He  will 
come  again  in  His  glory,  are  the  rays  of  Divine 
majesty  which  is  then  to  surround  Him  with 
splendour  :  they  are  the  Divine  powers  with  which 
He  is  to  waken  the  dead.'  And  again,  '  The  most 
remarkable  passage  Ls  Mt  18'",  and  it  is  the  very 
passage  whien  we  can  least  of  all  take  in  prosaic 
literalness.  According  to  it,  even  the  least  of  the 
children  of  men  has  his  guardian  angel  who  at  all 
times  has  access  to  the  Heavenly  Father,  viz.  to 
complain  to  Him  of  the  otiences  done  to  his  pro- 
tege on  earth.  But  as  God,  accordiu"  to  Jesus, 
knows  what  happens  to  each  of  His  children  with- 
out needing  to  be  told,  in  what  other  way  can  we 
conceive  this  entirely  jioetical  passage,  than  that 
in  every  child  of  man  a  peculiar  thought  of  God 
has  to  be  realized,  which  stands  over  his  history, 
like  a  genius,  or  guardian  spirit,  and  which  God 
always  remembers,  so  that  everything  which  op- 
poses its  realization  on  earth  comes  before  Him  as 
a  complaint?'  (New  Test.  Theology,  i.  80 f.).  Dr. 
Bruce  is  even  more  pronounced.  In  his  Epistle  to 
the  Hebrews  (p.  45)  he  says :  '  For  modern  men, 
the  angels  are  very  much  a  dead  theological  cate- 
gory. Everywhere  in  the  old  Jewish  world,  they 
are  next  to  nowhere  in  our  world.  They  have 
practically  disappeared  from  the  universe  in  thought 
and  in  fact.'  'rhen,  with  a  strange  lapse  of  the  his- 
toric sense,  he  adds :  '  This  subject  was  probably 
a  weariness  to  the  writer  of  our  Epistle.  A  Jew, 
and  well  acijuainted  with  Jewish  opinion,  and 
i.Iili  jrd  I,,  a.ljiist  his  argument  to  it,  he  was  tired, 
I  iiiiiip  .t  the  angelic  regime.  'Too  much  had 
h' I  II  iiiiiih-  m|  it  in  Rabbinical  teaching  and  in 
|iii|iiil,n  (i|iiiii(iii.  It  must  not  be  supposed  that  he 
was  in  syiiipathy  with  either.' 

A  belief  in  angels  among  men  of  to-day  depends 

entirely  on  one's  religious  outlook,  one's  general 

view  ot  Cod  and   the  world.     The  man  who   has 

111"  ji\  ill. s.  who  has  tuiled  through  mudi 

li 1 1  uiiiv  III  l.iH' hi' can  .sincerelyaffirni 

;  i  ..I  ihi-  I  Ini^iiaii  ereed,  '  I  believe 
ill  <  '  1  i'l  l.iihii  Alhii-hty,' will  probably  be  re- 
liKl.-uit  to  take  more  cargo  aboard  than  his  faith 
can  carry.  In  other  words,  lie  will  employ  the 
Law  of  Parsimony,  '  Entia  prajter  necessitatem 
non  multiplicanda  sunt,'  and,  linding  the  full  satis- 
faction of  his  religious  needs  in  direct  intercourse 
with  God  the  Father,  will  reject,  or  ignore  as 
superfluous,  the  ministry  of  angels.  So  also  the 
man  of  mystical  tendencies,  whose  eager  desire  is 


AKGELS 


ANGELS 


to  have  communion  with  the  Divine — who  claims 
to  be  endowed  with  a  faculty  by  which  he  can 
cognize  God,  and  receive  immediate  communica- 
tions from  Him,  is  also  likely  to  regard  the  inter- 
vention of  angels  between  his  spirit  and  the  IHvine 
Spirit  as  an  intrusion.  And  not  less  so  is  tliis  the 
case  with  one  who  has  leanings  to  Panthelsut — 
wliether  he  regards  God  as  altogether  immanent 
in  the  world,  or  as  both  immanent  and  transcen- 
dent. In  proportion  as  one's  thoughts  centre  on 
Divine  immanence,  and  as  one  regards  God  as  more 
or  less  identical  with  Force,  variant  but  transmut- 
able,  present  everywhere,  and  everywhere  causa- 
tive, in  that  proportion  are  one's  thoughts  drawn 
away  from  every  theological  conception  but  that 
of  the  One  Great  Cause  of  motion,  life,  and  mind. 
There  is  no  room  for  angels. 

The  only  scientific  conception  which  to  some 
minds  seems  to  foster  the  belief  in  angels  is  the 
Law  of  Evolution,  or,  to  speak  more  accurately, 
the  anticipation  of  gradation  of  being,  encouraged 
by  that  law.  T.  G.  Selby,  in  his  volume  of  ser- 
mons headed  by  one  on  'The  Imperfect  Aii_il.' 
contends  that  a  true  .science  welcomes  tlic  l.cli^f 
in  angels  as  intervening  between  man  and  (i<iil. 
'  It  is  surely  not  unscientific,'  he  says,  '  to  assume 
the  existence  of  the  pure  and  mighty  beings  spoken 
of  by  seers  and  prophets  of  the  olden  time.'  '  Tlie 
spirit  of  inspiration,  in  seeking  to  convey  to  us 
.some  faint  hint  of  the  strict  ;uid  awful  and  abso- 
lute holiness  of  God,  dcpiits  r.uiks  df  angels  in- 
definitely higher  and  better  tliaii  the  choicest  saints 
on  earth:  and  then  tells  us  that  these  angels, 
which  seem  so  lofty  and  stainless  and  resplendent, 
are  creatures  of  unwisdom  and  shiiitc(pming  in 
comparison  with  the  ineflable  wisilem  and  surjinss 
ing  holiness  of  God'  (p.  7).  Ciodet  in  his  liililinil 
Studies  on  the  02' has  elaborateil  a  scientitic  «y;o- 
logia  on  behalf  of  angels.  He  contends  that  science 
recognizes  three  forms  of  being :  species  without 
individuality,  in  the  vegetable  world  ;  individuality 
under  bondage  to  species,  in  the  animal  world ; 
individuality  overpowering  .species,  in  the  human 
race.  He  holds,  therefore,  that  it  is  antecedently 
probable  that  there  is  a  fourth  form  of  being — 
individuality  \vithout  species  —  each  individual 
owing  his  existence  no  longer  to  parents  like 
himself,  but  iumiediately  to  the  Creative  WOl. 
This  fourth  form  would  exactly  be  the  angel 
(p.  2  ft-.). 

It  remains  now  to  show  that  a  belief  in  angels 
is  in  precise  accord  with  the  fundamental  views  of 
God  and  the  world  which  present  themselves  in 
the  recorded  life  and  teaching  of  the  Lord  Jesus. 
Were  the  belief  in  angels  at  variance  with  Christ's 
personal  religious  outlook,  we  might  readily  regard 
it  as  an  exeresci'iice  which  iiiud.Tii  tlionght  might 
lopolVwithi.iit  in\ieh  ileliiiiieiil  :  hilt  if  il^is  chisely 
allied  le  (Mil-  l,(.r,rs  fiiniliiiiH'iilal  duel  lines,  thuii 
this  will  surely  ceiilinii  (he  in 
from  other  evidence,  thai  .lesu 
in  the  reality  of  angels,  and  v 

from   the  belief   the   s.-u ■, 

which  He  did.     Where  shall 


i..„  .arrived  at 
eiely  believed 
ia\  e  us  derive 
anil  support 
:.k  with  more 


for  the  first  | 
Jesus    than    to    the    1 

Saviour  taught  His  disciples  to '.say,  '  Our  Fatln 
liich  art  in  heaven.    Hallowed  be  thy  name.  . 


s  of  the  doctrine  of 
layer?     There   our 


liy  will  he  ilone  on  earth  as  it  is  in  heaven.'  Be- 
iiid  all  contradiction,  then,  it  is  an  axiom  of  the 
eed   of  .lesus  that  there  are  beings  in  heaven 


sayings  of  the  Apostles,  but  not  to  sayings  of  the 
Master.  His  sayings  owe  their  eternal  permanence 
to  the  fact  thai  they  appeal  to  that  whicli  is  com- 
mon to  all  111(11  I  he  iiiiieiiiiost  in  all  men— the 
heart— the  reli-ii.ii,  n.aiiie.  To  conceive  of  God 
as  the  Aljsuhile.  oi  the  I'iist  Cause,  ma.y  satisfy 
the  reason;  l.ui  hef,,ie  ihe  heart  can  be  satisfied,  it 
must  know  (h..!  as  I  ai  her,  the  'Father  in  heaven.' 
But  tlie  very  |ilMa  i-  ■  I  atlier  in  heaven'  .seems  to 
iiiqily  tliat  lie  lias  n,,,is  in  heaven.  And  that  this 
substan- 


■d,  is  irrefragably  substa 
li.h   follow:  'Thy  will 


done  1111  eaiih  a,  it  is  in  heaven.'  Surely  no  one 
can  ileiiy  th.it  <  hrist  firmly  believed  that  there  are 
beings  in  heaven  who  do  God's  will,  to  say  the 
least,  far  more  perfectly  than  we  do,  since  their 
obedience  is  the  model  to  which  we  are  constantly 
taught  to  pray  that  we  may  attain.  Again,  it  was 
the  outstanding  feature  of  Judaism  to  push  God 
aloof  from  men  and  the  world,  whereas  Jesus 
brought  God  nearer  to  men,  as  a  Father  who  takes 
a  minute  interest  in  all  that  concerns  us.  But  if 
.lesus  thus  brought  heaven  nearer  to  man.  He  must, 
in  tlie  very  act,  have  brought  the  occupants  of 
heaven  nearer,  and  must  wisli  us  to  believe  that 
they  also  are  deeply  interested  in  our  welfare. 
There  is  no  need  that  angels  should  tell  God  any- 
thing that  concerns  us.  He  knows  already  far 
more  than  they  can  tell.  Those  who  object  to  the 
doctrine  of  angels  because  it  interposes  a  barrier 
between  our  prayers  and  our  Father's  love,  mis- 
understand Christ's  teaching.  His  disclosure  of 
the  Fatherliness  of  God  wa.-,  meant  to  correct 
Judaism,  in  so  far  as  it  made  angels  the  bearers 
of  our  players  and  the  informants  to  God  of  our 
requirements.  Those  Christians  also  who  approach 
Cod  through  angels  contravene  in  this  way  Christ's 
teaching:  and  also  His  miiii/i/r,  for  in  the  garden 
He  said  to  Peter  (Mt  Jli  ■) :  'I  could  pray  the 
Father,  a,nd  he  would  acfu/  .  .  .  angels.'  Christ's 
teaching  and  example  both  show  that  it  is  our 
duty  and  privilege  to  have  direct  intercourse  with 
God  in  prayer  and  fellowship.  But  this  is  not  to 
say  that  there  is  no  room  for  the  ministry  of 
angels.  We  may  still  believe  that  angels  are  sent 
on  errands  of  mercy.  Indeed,  we  may  well  say  to 
those  who  on  this  subject  are  of  doubtful  mind, 
as  the  writer  of  the  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews  said  : 
'  Are  they  not  all  ministering  spirits,  sent  forth  to 
do  service  on  behalf  of  those  who  shall  inherit 
salvation?' (1").  There  is  nothing  at  all  in  the 
Gospel  doi^triiie  of  angels  which  is  at  variance  with 
the  religious  needs  of  the  most  cultured  among  us. 
It  ni.-iy  laeieiiLdillienkies  to  reason,  as  everything 
which  is  .-uiieiiiimu.al  does;  but  the  heart  of  man 
which  loM's  (old  iiin-t  surely  rejoice  to  think  that 
the  heavenly  Father  lias  also  a  '  faniily  in  heaven  ' 
as  on  earth  (Kph  . ■)'■').  It  nin^l  alwiM  lind  a  re- 
sponsive chord  111  the  nature  oi  mkii  v  ho  .illow  the 
heart  a  place  in  their  creed,  lo  he  loM  ihal,  there 
are  beings  who  'coiitiiiuallv  heliold  the  face  of  our 
Father,'  who  are  deeiily  ini.ae~te,l  in  us  (Mt  IS'") ; 
that  our  penitence  gi\es  the  aiigeN  joy  (Lk  15'") ; 
that  in  our  times  of  depiessiou  and  anguish  it 
may  be  our  privilege  to  have  '  an  angel  sent  from 
heaven,  strengthening '  us  (Lk  i-l*'),  as  in  our  times 
of  gladness  it  is  our'  privilege  to  '  give  thanks  to 
the  Father  from  M  hom  the  whole  family  in  heaven 
and  earth  is  named'  (Eph  S"'-). 

LiTEaATi;RF..  —  .\i tides   on  'Angels'  in    Ilaslings'  DB  (b.v 
Davi.lsen  ;  ,r.  also  Extrii,  Vol.  p.  2S.5  ft.),  ScheTikd's  Bibdhxicoa 


and  philosophical  tiainiiig  may  as|.iie  to  know  God 
as  'the  One  in  all,'  'the  Absolute,'  'the  First 
Cause';  and  may  appeal  for  support  to  isolated 


,,/,„;  «,"/  A.y.'mdiri/  Life  of  Chris!  ;  .Schiefer,  Die  rfligiosm 
iind  rthisi-lini  Anschauunqen  des- IV Ezmbnches;  Eohut,  Z)i"e 
Jtkiiselie  Angelologie.    Oii  the  general  subject  see  Everlinj, 


60 


AXGER 


AN"GER 


Die  Paullin.iclie  ,4/^i. /",'".i,V  ;  l..ali,uii.  77,.-  .SV,r,iv  o/Anricls; 
Martensen,  CAnV/Zc'  ,  /  '         '   -    I  ;r-i  s^  ric-s, 

viii.409ff. ;  Expo-  ■  ■      i    :      !.      ,i,,„„ 

ANGER.-A1.K.-1  i.^  t;..  i..„auaiic  lc.rl;lliiunt 
or  reaction  of  the  &oul  agaiu.st  anything  which  it 
regards  as  ■nron<;  or  injurious.  It  is  part  of  its 
equipment  for  self-preservation,  and  the  prompti- 
tude and  energy  with  which  it  comes  into  play  are 
a  fair  measure  of  tlie  soul's  power  to  protect  itself 
from  the  evil  which  is  in  the  world.  If  there  is 
not  an  instant  and  indignant  repulsion  of  evil,  it 
creeps  into  tlie  apathetic  soul,  and  soon  makes  it 
not  only  its  victim  but  its  instrument.  The  child's 
anger  with  the  fire  which  bums  him  is  in  a  sense 
irrational ;  but  one  true  meaning  and  purpose  of 
anger  in  the  moral  world  is  illustrated  by  it.  It 
is  the  vehement  repulsion  of  that  which  hurts, 
and  there  is  no  spiiitual,  as  there  is  no  natural, 
life  without  it. 

An  instinct,  however,  when  we  come  into  the 
world  of  freedom  and  responsibility,  always  needs 
education  ;  and  the  radical  character  of  the  educa- 
tion required  by  the  instinct  of  anger  is  apparent 
from  the  fact  that  the  first  thought  of  almost  all 
men  is  that  anger  is  a  vice.  Taking  human  nature 
as  it  is,  and  looking  at  tlie  actual  manifestations 
of  anger,  this  is  only  too  true.  There  is,  as  a  rule, 
something  vicious  in  them.  They  are  self-regard- 
ing in  a  selfish  way.  Men  are  angry,  as  Aristotle 
puts  it  {Ethics,  iv.  5.  7),  on  wrong  gi"ounds,  or  with 
the  -WTong  people,  or  in  a  wrong  way,  or  for  too 
long  a  time.  Their  anger  is  natural,  liot  spiritual ; 
selfish,  not  guided  by  consideration  of  principle ; 
the  induli^enee  of  a  temper,  not  the  staking  of 
one"sbi-in.;  |mi  :,  .,,u-i\  In  the  NT  itself  there  are 
farnioi'-  ■  ■    i_iinst  anger  than  indications 

of  its  tin     ;'  !  ;i;iu-tion.     Yet  when  we  read 

the  Go^i"  1-  .  ii!i  I  111-  i.k'a  of  anger  in  our  minds, 
we  can  easily  .see  that  justice  is  done  to  it  both  as 
a  virtue  and  a  vice.  There  is  a  certain  arbitrari- 
ness in  trying  to  systematize  the  teaching  of  Jesus 
on  this  or  on  any  other  subject,  but  most  of  the 
matter  can  be  introduced  if  Ave  examine  (1)  the 
occasions  on  which  Jesus  Himself  is  represented  as 
being  angiy  ;  (2)  those  in  which  He  expresses  His 
judgment  on  moral  questions  with  a  vehemence 
which  is  undoubtedly  inspired  by  indignation  ; 
and  (3)  those  in  which  He  gives  express  teaching 
about  anger. 

1.  Occasions  on  trhich  Jcsiis  Himself  is  repre- 
sented as  being  angry. — (a)  The  most  explicit  is 
Mk  3'  'He  looked  round  on  them  with  ano;er  (ixer 
ipyrii),  being  grieved  (<Tvi'\vitoiiicvo$)  over  the  Iiar- 
dening  of  their  heart.'  The  objects  of  Christ's 
anger  here  are  the  people  in  the  sj-nagogue,  who 
maintained  an  obstinate  and  prejudiced  silence 
when  He  a.sked  them,  '  Is  it  lawful  on  the  Sabbath 
day  to  do  good  or  to  do  evil,  to  save  life  or  to 
kill?'  What  roused  His  an^er  was  partly  tlieir 
inhumanity,  which  cared  nothing  for  the  disable- 
ment of  the  man  with  the  withcn-d  haiid,  but  ivimi 
more,  perhaps,  the  misi.  1  .  -  n , ,  •  ...n  ..1  i.-i  d 
which  they  Avere  guilty.      '  I 

they  would  have  it)  tlir\      11 

the  Sabbath  day.     To  b."  ini inili.ii  .,,. 

bad  enough,  but  to  impute  the  same  mliuniuiiity 
to  the  Heavenly  Father  was  far  worse,  and  the 
indignation  of  Jesus  was  visible  as  He  looked 
round  on  them.     He  pa«si"iinti>]y  v'sfnted  their 

temper,  and  repelled  it  I r !l    ■;  '  i ' '  1  M-lieraence, 

as  injurious  at  once  to  c in.     Yet  His 

indignation  was  express,.  I  u,  ,  i,  1  ,..,^ii.ait  glance 
{irepi^XeypaiKvof,  aorist),  wljii.-  u  wu.-  accompanied 
by  a  deep  pain,  which  did  not  pass  away  {avy\i>Trou- 
fiffos,  present),  over  the  hardening  of  their  heart. 
This  combination,  in  Avliich  resentment  of  wrong 
is  accompanied   with   a    grief    whiili   makes   the 


oft'ender's  ease  one's  own,  and  seeks  to  win  him  by 
reaching  the  inner  AA-itness  to  God  in  his  soul 
before  insensibility  has  gone  too  far,  is  character- 
istic of  Jesus,  and  is  the  test  whether  anger  is 
Christian. 

(b)  The  next  occasion  on  Avhich  Ave  see  our  Lord 
display  an  emotion  akin  to  anger  is  found  in  Mk 
lO'^"-.  He  Avas  'moved  Avith  indignation'  (RV 
Tiya.pa.KTrjtyei')  Avhen  the  disciples  forbade  the  chil- 
dren to  be  brought  to  Him.  The  other  instances 
in  AA-hich  the  same  Avord  is  used  (Mk  10"  14'',  Mt 
21'^,  Lk  13")  shoAv  that  a  natural  feeling  of  being 
hurt  or  annoyed  is  Avhat  the  Avord  specifically 
means.  The  disciples  should  have  knoAvn  Him 
Ijetter  than  to  do  Avhat  they  did :  they  AA-ronged 
Him  in  forbidding  the  approach  of  the  children. 
Hence  doctrines  and  practices  Avhich  refuse  to 
children,  and  to  the  intellectually  and  morally 
immature  in  general,  their  place  and  interest  in 
the  kingdom  of  God,  are  proper  subjects  of  resent- 
ment. In  one  aspect  of  it,  the  kingdom  of  God  is 
a  protest  against  nature,  and  to  enter  into  it  Ave 
must  be  born  again  ;  but  in  another,  there  is  a  real 
analogy  betAveen  them  ;  the  order  of  nature  is 
constituted  Avitli  a  vieAv  to  the  order  of  grace ;  man 
is  made  in  God's  image  and  for  God,  and  it  is  his 
true  nature  to  AA-elcorae  God ;  if  the  children  are 
'  suffered,'  and  not  forbidden,  they  Avill  go  to  Jesus. 
They  Avrong  God  Avho  deny  this,  and  therefore  the 
denial  is  to  be  resented. 

(c)  There  is  a  striking  passage  in  Luke  (H^"^-), 
Avhere,  although  anger  is  not  mentioned,  it  is  im- 
iwssible  not  to  feel  that  Jesus  is  speaking  Avith  a 
profound  and  even  passionate  resentment.  '  Great 
multitudes  folloAved  Avith  him,  and  he  turned,  and 
said  to  tlicni,  If  any  man  cometh  to  me,  and  hateth 
not  his  fathii ,  and  mother,  andAA'ife,  and  children, 
and  1  not  hers,  ami  sisters,  yea,  and  his  OAA-n  lifa  also, 
he  canuiit  bo  my  disciple.'  Jesus  Avas  on  His  Avay 
to  die  ;  and  it  moved  Him  as  an  indignity,  Avhieh 
He  Avas  entitled  to  resent,  that  on  the  very'  path 
to  the  cross  He  should  be  attended  by  a  shalloAV 
throng  Avho  did  not  have  it  in  them  to  do  the 
slightest  A-iolence  to  themselves  for  the  sake  of  the 
kingdom  of  God.  The  Avhole  passage,  in  Avhich 
the  moral  demands  of  discipleship  ai-e  set  at  the 
highest,  vibrates  Avith  indignation.  To  folloAv 
Christ  is  a  great  enterprise,  like  building  a  tower, 
or  going  to  Avar ;  it  requires  the  painful  sacrifice  of 
the  tenderest  natural  afl'ections,  the  renunciation 
of  the  most  valued  possessions ;  and  Avhen  it  is 
affected  by  people  Avho  have  no  moral  salt  in 
them— Avho  could  not  Avin  it  from  themselves  to 
give  up  anything  for  Gotl  and  His  cause — the 
resentment  of  Jesus  rises  into  scorn  (v.^^'-).  AVith 
all  His  loA'e  for  men,  there  Avas  a  kind  of  man 
Avhom  He  did  not  shrink  from  describing  as  '  good 
for  notliing.' 

{d)  The  last  passage  is  that  in  Avhich  Jesus 
cleanses  the  Temple:  Mk  11'=  and  parallels.  What 
stiiTed  His  indignation  here  Avas  in  jjart  the  pro- 
fanity to  Avhich  sacred  places  and  their  proper 
"'iations  had  lost  all  sacredness ;  in  part,  the 
'  tousness  Avhich  on  the  pretext  of  accommotlat- 
tlie  pilgrims  had  turned  the  house  of  prayer 

I .  ■  a  den  of  thieves ;  in  part,  again,  the  iiiliu- 
iiiauity  Avhich,  by  instituting  a  market  so  noisy  in 
tlie  Court  of  the  Gentiles,  nmst  have  made  Avorship 
for  these  less  privileged  seekers  after  God  difficult, 
if  not  impossible.  "The  text  quoted  in  Jn  2"  (Ps 
69^),  as  remembered  by  the  disciples  in  connexion 
Avith  this  event—'  the  zeal  of  thy  house  shall  eat 
me  up' — sums  up  as  Avell  as  anything  could  do 
the  one  characteristic  Avhich  is  never  Avanting  in 
the  anger  of  Jesus,  and  Avhich  alone  renders 
anger  just.  It  is  jealousy  for  God — the  identifica- 
tion of  oneself  Avith  His  cause  and  interest  on 
eartli,   especially  as  it   is  represented  in   human 


ANGER 


ANGER 


61 


beings,  and  resentment  of  everytliing  which  does 
it  wrong.* 

2.  The  occasions  on  which  Jesus  expresses  His 
jicdfument  on  moral  questions  with  a  vehemence 
which  is  uncloiMcdbi  inspired  by  indignation. — 
Every  moral  judgment,  of  course,  contains  feeling : 
it  is  not  merely  tlie  expression  of  assent  or  dissent, 
but  of  consent  or  resentment.  AVe  are  all  within 
tlie  moral  world,  not  outside  of  it ;  we  cannot  be 
spectators  merely,  but  in  every  thought  we  are 
actors  as  well ;  to  deny  this  is 'to  deny  that  there 
is  a  moral  world  at  all.  Hence  all  dissent  is  con- 
demnation, and  all  condemnation,  if  real,  is  resent- 
ment ;  but  there  are  circumstances  in  whicli  the 
condemnation  is  so  emphatic  that  the  resentment 
becomes  vivid  and  contagious,  and  it  is  illustra- 
tions of  this  that  we  wish  to  find  in  the  life  of 
Jesus. 

{a)  The  most  conspicuous  is  perhaps  that  which 
we  find  in  the  passage  on  aKavBaXa  (Mt  IS"'-)- 
Jesus  has  taken  a  little  child  to  rebuke  the  am- 
bitious strife  of  the  Twelve  ;  but  '  these  little  ones 
who  believe  in  me'  are  not  children,  but  the 
disciples  generally  (cf.  Mt  10^-).  '  To  make  one  of 
them  stumble '  {o-Kai/SaXl^etv)  is  to  perplex  him,  to 
put  him  out  about  Christ,  to  create  misunderstand- 
ing and  estrangement,  such  as  we  hear  of  for  a  time 
in  the  case  of  the  Baptist  (ll-''-)  and  the  Nazarenes 
(13"),  and  so  to  make  his  discipleship  void.  In  a 
more  general  sense  it  means  to  mislead,  or  to  be 
the  cause  that  another  falls  into  sin  which  his 
better  conscience  condemns.  If  we  are  to  judge 
from  His  language,  nothing  ever  moved  Jesus  to 
such  passionate  indignation  as  this.  The  sin  of 
sins  was  that  of  leading  others  into  sin,  especially 
'the  little  ones' — the  weak,  the  untaught,  the 
easily  perplexed  and  easiljr  misled— whose  hearts 
were  otherwise  naturally  riglit  with  Him.  Every 
word  in  Jesus'  sentence  is  laden  with  indignation': 
'  Better  for  him  that  a  great  millstone  were  hanged 
about  his  neck,  and  that  he  were  drowned  in  the 
depth  of  the  sea.'  This  anger  of  Jesus  is  exactly 
what  is  meant  in  tlie  OT  by  '  the  jealousy  of  God,' 
i.e.  His  love  pledged  to  His  own,  and  resenting 
with  all  the  intensity  of  the  Divine  nature  any 
wrong  inflicted  on  them  (cf.  Zee  8='- ).  Though  anger 
is  often  sinful,  the  absence  of  anger  may  be  due  to 
the  absence  of  love  :  and  the  man  who  can  see  the 
'  little  ones '  being  made  to  stumble  and  who  takes 
it  quite  coolly  is  very  far  from  the  kingdom  of  God. 

{b)  It  is  possibly  an  instance  of  this  same  indig- 
nation that  we  find  in  Mt  16-'.  Peter  tempts 
Jesus  to  decline  the  cross — in  otlier  words,  tries  to 
make  Him  stumble  at  the  will  of  the  Father  ;  and 
the  indignant  vehemence  with  whicli  he  is  repelled 
— 'Get  tliee  behind  me,  Satan' — shows  how  real 
the  temptation  was,  and  how  a  prompt  and  deci- 
sive resentment  is  tlie  natural  security  in  such 
trials.  We  have  a  right  and  a  duty  to  be  angry 
with  the  tempter. 

(c)  In  the  answer  of  Jesus  to  the  Sadducees  in 
Ml-  I'T'^ff-  we  have  another  light  on  ^^  hat  mo  e  1 
Him  to  in  ii^nation  In  tl  e  scornful  iroXv  wXavaade 
with  vhicl    the  discussion  closes    re  umin_   the 


Tr\ava<x6e    of 
The  q  le  t 


Je  us  lesentment  si  ines  out 
10  that  of  mans  immoitality 
n  luestion  It  involved  the 
t  d— v\hat  He  was  an  I  v\  hat 
odness  and  His  faithfulnes 
I  lo  foi  the  soul   He  had  made 


*  In  Mt    1     W  e       u    n  adopts  the  i 

ead  ng  ,  „ 

T  M     nstead 

of  .  -zfo,  „       Th  s  mak  s  th      Je        d 

le   Je 

s     nstead  of 

ser  ouslv  answer  ng  H         a    IWeha 

t  k 

t  so    fin  Is 

n  the  vords  wh    h  fol  o  v—  The  p  hi 

1      1 

nto  the  k  ngdon    of  C  o  1  befo  e 
the  para  Ic  but  a  7o        os            A 

coud  h  ri        e          r    I  o    i 

th^    luf)      J    11  1              '      1 

tree  n  a     on  e     ar    ht  nf  t 

a  nam  ng  (see  b  a  i  i-t    y        p      \) 

in  His  own  image.  The  Sadducees  had  tried  to 
degrade  it  and  make  it  ridiiuldiis,  and  the  indigna- 
tion of  Jesus  is  uniiii^t.ik.il.l.'.  It  is  an  examj^le 
which  justifies  indi.nniilicjii  wiili  those  who  by 
unworthy  controversial  metliuds  profane  or  render 
ridiculous  subjects  in  which  the  dearest  concern- 
ments of  humanity  are  involved. 

(d)  To  these  passages  may  be  added  Jesus'  de- 
nunciation of  the  Pharisees  in  .Mt  '2:?""^-.  Tlie  long 
series  of  woes  is  not  merely  a  revelation  uf  lliin-" 
which  in  the  mind  of  .lesus  are  ill('.i;i(  incite,  ii  is  n, 
revelation  of  the  passionate  reseiiliiiciU.  whirh 
these  things  evoke  in  Him.  They  are  the  things 
with  which  God  is  angry  every  day,  and  it  is  a  sin 
in  men  if  they  can  look  at  them  without  indigna- 
tion. To  keep  people  ignorant  of  religious  truth, 
neither  living  by  it  (nu>'-I\(s,  nor  Irilin"  them  do 

so    (V.'S);    to    make    |,i,-|y    ..,     Ihe    ,„vle„re    of    it    a 

cloak  for  avarice  (\'.",  only  inl  i  o.lurol  liere  from 
II  Mark) ;  to  raise  recruil-  loi-  .,uro\Mi  taction  on 
the  pretext  of  enlisting  men  lor  the  kingdom  of 
God  (v.">)  ;  to  debauch  the  simple  conscience  by 
casuistical  sophistries  (vv. "*---) ;  to  destroy  the 
sense  of  proportion  in  morals  liy  making  morality 
a  matter  of  law  in  wliiili  .ill  tlmms  sl.uid  on  Ih'e 
same  level  (v.-''-) ;  to  |.iit  :i|i|ir;n;iiire  .■ili(,\-e  ri..'dily, 
and  reduce  life  to  a,  play.  ;il  oner  Ir.iue.ly  .-ii'lcI 
farce  (vv.==-=8) ;  to  revive  {lie  spirit  and  renew  tlie 
sins  of  the  past,  while  we  alleet  a  pious  horror  of 
them,  crucifying  the  living  prophets  while  we 
build  monuments  to  the  martyred  (v. '-""■)  :  these 
are  the  things  which  made  a  storm  of  anger  sweep 
over  the  soul  of  Jesus,  and  burst  in  this  tremendous 
denunciation  of  His  enemies.  Yet  it  is  entirely  in 
keeping  with  the  combination  of  ideas  in  Mk  3' 
(/ier'  opyqi  .  .  .  c!vvKvKoi}t.<Lvo%)  when  the  Evangelist 
attaches  to  this  our  Lord's  lament  over  Jerusalem 
(y  3Tir._  cf.  Lk  13'^').  His  .anger  does  not  extin- 
guish His  compassion,  and  if  the  city  could  be 
moved  to  repentance  He  would  still  gather  her 
children  together  as  a  hen  gathers  her  chickens 
under  her  wings. 

Putting  the  whole  of  the  passages  together,  and 
generalizing  from  them,  we  may  infer  that  the  two 
things  in  human  conduct  whirh  moved  Jesus  most 
quickly  and  deeply  to  anger,  were;  (1)  inhumanity, 
wrong  done  to  the  needs  or  rights  of  men  ;  and  (2) 
misrepresentation  ot  (lo.l  1j\  imiiessedly  religious 
people,  and  especially  l.y  n  li  lous  teachers.  He 
stood  in  the  world  for  the  nulii  ^  .iiid  interests,  or, 
we  may  say,  for  the  truth  ul  Guil  and  of  human 
nature  ;  and  His  whole  being  reacted  immediately 
and  vehemently  against  all  that  did  wrong  to 
either. 

3.  Something  may  further  he  learned  from  thr 
passacjcs  inivldch  Jesus  girr..-  ,•./,,■,,,■  /r,ir/iiii:/ ,./»;/// 
anger.— (a)  The  chief  of  tin-  .■  i.  Mi  .,-''.  Here 
our  Lord  interprets  the  sixth  ronini.indiiieiit  tor 
the  citizens  of  the  kingdom  of  God.  It  is  not 
only_  the  act  of  murder  which  is  condemned,  but 
the  first  movement  of  the  passions  which  leads  in 
tiat  Ihe  f  H       I      I        I  1      lall  le  lial  I 

to  tie  J    1  t       T  t  II  1 

an^ry  villi  1 M     I       1  1  1 

nient        111  I 

1    no   lo  il  t  1  11  I 

of   it   IS   1  itl        a     I  II  I 

blunlei      As  n    I     1  I  I 

1  lea  tl  at  theie  ill  II 

■noul  1  only  \  tal  er  tl  I  |  II 

u\  on  s  1  I   an  ei  a         i  I  I        tl    i 

cl  e    ai  1  oti  ei        Itl  I        1        In  sail 

un  ler  (1)  a    1  (  )    it    I  1         I      i  lovel 

tl    t  the  p  1    XI  lace  fo       i  „       i     tl     (  1       t  an  m 

I  II  I  ich  \  e  li\  e     ^\  I  at  Jts  is  condemns 


biothei  s   luty  to  him     the  ange 


AXGEE 


which  leads  straight  to  contemptuous  and  insult- 
ing words  (the  po\d  and  ixapi  of  v.'~),  and  ends  in 
irreconcilable  bitterness  (v.-*'-).  Anger  like  this 
on  the  iiart  of  one  Christian  toward  another  is  sin, 
and  sin  so  deadly  that  no  words  coiiid  exaggerate 
the  urgency  of  escape  from  it.  No  religious  duty, 
not  even  the  most  sacred,  can  take  precedence  of 
the  duty  of  reconciliation.  If  a  man  should  be 
offering  his  gift  at  the  altar— if  he  should  actually 
be  seated  at  the  cnmmunion  table  with  the  com- 
munion ciiii  in  Ills  hand,  let  him  put  it  down,  and 
go  first,  and  get  out  of  these  angry  relations  with 
his  brother,  and  then  come  and  have  fellowship 
with  God  (v.^').  How  can  an  angry  man,  with 
the  temper  of  a  quarrel  in  him,  have  communion 
with  the  God  of  peace  ?  It  is  possible  to  raise 
casuistical  questions  in  all  ^uc  li  situations  as  are 
here  supposed,  butastho  ■.jui  >Uo;i,  juesent  them- 
selves only  to  the  speetat.a>,  n.it  t^i  the  respon- 
sible actoi-s,  it  is  not  worth  v  bile  to  raise  them. 
The  one  duty  insisted  on  here,  as  in  the  partly 
parallel  passage  in  Mt  18'=-'*,  is  the  duty  of  placa- 
bilitjr.  The  person  who  has  suffered  the  wrong — 
that  is,  who  is  in  the  right,  who  is  entitled  to  be 
angry — is  for  that  very  reason  to  take  the  initiative 
in  reconciliation,  and  to  bear  the  expense  of  it. 
That  is  how  God  deals  with  us,  who  have  offended 
Him,  and  that  is  how  we  are  to  deal  with  those 
who  offend  us.  There  is  to  be  no  an^er  in  tlie 
sense  of  a  selfish  resentment  into  which  the  bad 
passions  of  unregenerate  human  nature  can  pour 
themselves;  and  the  lawful  anger  of  the  soul, 
whose  wrong  is  a  WTong  done  to  the  kingdom 
of  God,  will  pass  away  at  once  when  he  who  has 
done  the  wrong  is  brought  to  repentance.  The 
penitence  and  the  resentment  are  the  guilty  and 
the  innocent  index  of  the  reality  of  the  wrong ; 
and  each  is  as  inevitable  as  the  other  if  the  Chris- 
tian life  is  to  be  morally  sincere. 

(b)  It  is  natural  to  take  account  here  of  the  pas- 
sage on  retaliation  and  non-resistance  in  JMt  S-^'^-. 
An"er  seems  to  be  unconditionally  precluded  by 
such  a  saying  as,  '  Whosoever  smit«th  thee  on  tlie 
right  cheek,  turn  to  him  the  other  also.'  It  is 
difficult  to  believe  that  any  one  was  ever  struck 
on  the  face  unjustly  (as  is  assumed  in  the  con- 
nexion) without  resenting  it,  and  just  as  difficult 
to  believe  that  it  would  be  for  the  good  of  humanity 
or  of  the  kingdom  of  God  that  it  should  be  so. 
But  Jesus,  who  came  to  abolish  one  literalism, 
did  not  come  to  institute  another.  Mis  wc.id-;  are 
never  to  be  rea<l  a^  .'-tatnic^,  Imt  a-  a]-|i.  ,iU  to 
conscience.  AN'h.it  I  !'■  trarlir-  in  i  hi-  |.I;m  ■  i,  that 
there  is  no  limit  to  li- laid  .luun  l.n,,,,  han.l  l.rviaid 


|iiovocatiun  can  be  so  insult- 
In'  so  unjust,  so  irrational,  so 


e\a>|"  i.iinm,  a>  1  liai  His  disciples  shall  be  entitled 
to  ea.-l  lo\  e  o\  erljuard,  and  meet  the  world  with 
weaponslike  itsown.  Love  must  to  all  extremities 
be  the  supreme  and  determining  principle  in  their 
conduct,  the  same  love,  with  the  same  interests  in 
view,  as  that  of  their  Father  in  heaven  (v.'^) ;  but 
no  more  in  them  than  in  Him  does  it  exclude  all 
manifestation  of  anger.  AVliat  it  does  exclude  is 
tlie  selfish  anger  whicli  is  an  alternative  to  love, 
not  the  Divine  resentment  which  is  a  mode  of 
love,  and  expresses  its  sense  of  the  reality  of 
wron".  If  this  died  out  of  the  world,  society 
would  swiftly  rot  to  extinction ;  but  the  gospel, 
in  the  sense  of  the  words,  the  example,  and  the 
spirit  of  Jesus,  is  so  far  from  ])roscribing  this  that 
it  is  the  greatest  of  all  ])owers  for  keeping  it  alive. 
For  those  who  have  learned  that  where  the  spirit 
of  the  Lord  is  there  is  liberty,  the  literal  inter- 
pretation of  words  like  Mt  5'"-"  is  a  combination 
of  pedantry  and  fanaticism  wliicli  no  genius  will 
ever  make  anything  else  than  absurd. 


Echoes  of  the  teaching  of  Jesus  on  anger  are 
probably  to  be  traced  at  various  points  in  tlie 
teaching  of  the  Apostles.  E.fj.  in  Ro  12,  a  chapter 
which  often  recalls  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount, 
vv.'«--i  are  entirely  in  the  key  of  Mt  5*^-.  'The 
wrath  '  of  Ro  12"',  to  which  Christians  are  to  leave 
room,  is  tlie  vTath  of  God  which  will  be  revealed 
at  tlie  last  day.  God  has  reserved  for  Himself 
(tjioi  f\Oi/ci;<ris,  eyu  avTairo5i!i<Tu>)  the  vindication  of 
the  wronged,  and  they  are  not  to  forestall  Him 
or  take  His  work  out  of  His  hands ;  in  the  day  of 
wrath,  when  His  righteous  judgment  is  revealed, 
all  wrongs  will  be  rectified  ;  meanwhile,  as  Christ 
teaches,  love  is  to  rule  all  oui-  conduct,  and  we 
must  overcome  evil  with  good.  It  is  perhaps  with 
a  vague  recollection  of  Mt  5^'-  that  men  are 
directed  in  1  Ti  2*  to  pray  x^pis  opyfis :  an  angry 
man  cannot  pray.  Accordingly  a  bishop  must  not 
be  6pyl\o9,  given  to  anger,  or  of  an  uncontrollable 
temper  (Tit  1').  Exhortations  like  those  in  Eph 
4^',  Col  3',  Ja  1",  show  that  anger  was  known  to 
the  Church  mainly  in  forms  wliich  the  Christian 
conscience  condemned.  Ja  1"  is  particularly  in- 
teresting, because  it  reminds  us  of  the  danger  (in 
anger)  of  enlisting  self  in  the  service  of  God,  call- 
ing on  the  old  man  to  do  what  can  be  done  only 
by  the  new  :  'The  wrath  of  duiii  worketh  not  the 
righteousness  of  God.'  But  though  it  is  difficult, 
it  need  not  l)e  impossible  that  the  wTath  which  a 
man  feels,  and  under  the  impulse  of  which  he  ex- 
presses himself,  should  be,  not  '  the  WTath  of  man,' 
but  a  Divine  resentment  of  evil.  The  words  of 
Mt  IS^  or  Mt  23i3ff-  fell  from  human  lips,  but  they 
are  the  expression  and  the  instrument  of  the 
jealousy  of  Gotl.  To  be  angry  without  sin  is  diffi- 
cult for  men,  but  it  is  a  difficult  duty  (Eph  4^). 

Apart  from  anything  yet  alluded  to  is  the  use 
of  the  verb  eii^pifiaireai  to  describe  some  kind  of 
emotion  in  Jesus  (Mk  1«  Mt  9^,  Jn  11^-  ^8).  Ordi- 
narily the  word  conveys  the  idea  of  indignation 
which  cannot  be  repressed  ;  but  this,  though  found 
elsewhere  in  the  Gospels  [e.g.  Mk  14°),  is  not  obvi- 
ously appropriate  in  the  passages  quoted.  In  the 
first  two  it  may  be  due  to  our  Lord's  consciousness 
of  the  fact  that  the  persons  on  whom  He  had  con- 
fen-ed  a  great  blessing  were  immediately  going  to 
disregard  His  command  to  keep  silent  about  it ; 
the  sense  of  this  put  something  severe  and  peremp- 
tory into  His  tones.  In  the  last  two  it  has  been 
explained  as  expressing  Jesus'  sense  of  the  indignity 
of  death  ;  He  resented,  iis  something  nut  properly 
belonging  to  the  Divine  idea  of  the  world,  such 
experiences  as  He  was  confronted  with  ou  the  way 
to  the  grave  of  Lazarus.  But  this  is  precarious, 
and  ou  the  whole  there  is  little  stress  to  be  laid  on 
any  inference  we  can  tlraw  from  the  use  of  i/j-^pt- 
ixiirffai  in  the  Gospels. 

LiTERATrRE.— Butler,  Sermons,  viii.,  ix. ;  Law,  Serious  Call, 
ch.  xxi. ;  Seeley,  EcceHomo,  clis.  xxi.-xxiii. ;  Dale,  Atonemenf!, 
p.  338ff. ;  Expos.  Times,iv.  [1893],  pp.  258ff.,  492ff. ;  Expositor, 
1st  ser.  i.  [1875],  133  fl.  JamES  DENNEY. 

ANIMALS,-It  cannot  be  sail  i!;:.  aniinil.  play 
a  vei-y  imix)rtant  part  in  tin-  1  aing  of 

our  Lord  ;  yet  the  Gospel  reii  i     ,  ,  ,  i   ,;  wider 

range  than  is  usually  iinagiTic!  I'm  r.\  :iii;4elists 
use  no  fewer  than  40  different  Greelc  words  denot- 
ing animals,  and,  apart  from  such  general  terms 
as  'birds  of  the  air,'  '>\-ild  Ijeasts,'  and  'serpents,' 
they  mention  at  least  20  particular  kinds.  The 
references  may  best  be  classified  under  the  head- 
ings 'Domestic'  and  '^A'ild.' 

i.  Domestic  Animal.s.— 1.  The  beasts  of  bunlen 
in  Palestine  in  the  time  of  our  Lord  were  the  ass 
and  the  camel.  The  horse  is  not  mentioned  in  the 
(Jospels,  its  use  in  the  East  being  restricted  to 
purposes  of  war.  Thus  the  horse  becomes  pro- 
luiueut  in  the  military  imagery  of  the  Apocalypse. 


ANIMALS 


63 


Josenh^^s(^»^ 
lii  Ac  23=J  a  'I 


tlie  NT  therefore 
clearly  some  'beast  of  burden 'which  is  not  a  horse. 
Probably  the  Good  Samaritan  rode  on  an  ass,  or  possibly  on  a 

The  ass  is  denoted  Tiy  four  oilier  words  in  the 
Gospels,  viz.  TriiXos,  opdpiop,  Svos,  and  vwol^&yioi'.  The 
animal  on  which  our  Lord  made  His  triumplial 
entry  into  Jerusalem  is  described  hy  all  four  Evan- 
gelists as  a  colt  (TTiiXoi,  Mt  2P-  ^- ',  Mk  11--  ■■■  ^- ',  Lk 
1930.33.35^  Jn  12'^).  The  word  is  not  used  else- 
where in  the  Gospels,  and  in  John  it  occurs  only 
in  the  quotation  from  Zechariah.  St.  John  de- 
scribes the  colt  as  dvapiov,  a  young  ass.  St.  Matthew 
introduces  the  she-ass,  the  mother  of  the  colt,  into 
the  story.  In  the  Matthcean  form  of  the  quota- 
tion from  Zechariah  (Mt  2P)  the  mother  ass  is 
further  described  as  a  draught  beast  {inrol'Oyioy). 

The  meaning  of  this  fulfilment  of  prophecy  is  well  brought 
out  by  Chrj-sostom.  Jesus  entered  Jerusalem  riding  on  an  ass, 
'  not  driving  chariots  like  the  rest  of  the  kings,  not  demanding 


The  triumphal  entry  into  Jerusalem  is  the  only 
incident  in  the  life  of  our  Lord  in  which  an  ass  is 
concerned ;  but  in  His  teaching,  as  reported  by 
St.  Luke,  there  are  two  other  references.  The 
synagogue-ruler,  who  forbade  people  to  come  to 
be  healed  on  the  Sabbath,  received  the  rebuke, 
'  Hypocrites,  does  not  each  one  of  you  loose  his  ox 
or  his  ass  {t&v  Sfov)  from  the  stall  on  the  Sabbath 
and  lead  him  away  to  watering?'  (Lk  13^').  On 
another  occasion,  with  reference  to  the  same  ques- 
tion of  Sabbath  healing,  our  Lord  asked,  '  Which 
of  you  shall  have  an  as.s  or  an  ox  fallen  into  a  well, 
and  will  not  straightway  draw  him  up  on  a  Sab- 
bath day '  (Lk  14=). 

Tlie  text  of  the  latter  passage  is  uncertain,  the  evidence  of 
N  and  B  being  divided.  E  reads  w'oV,  adopted  by  Westcott  and 
Hort ;  while  K  reads  o»ot,  retained  by  the  Revisers.  Possibly 
neither  ii  tbf  <T.ir.i  t  lc\t  ;  but  if  we  follow  the  Revisers,  we 


imply  tl 


ith  the  ox,  as  if  I 


'The 


1 )  <lomestic  anmiala  with 
whichan  1  i  i  lii'  ii    i-  ii.il  li    |  i      i  I.  a   (O.  Holtzmann). 

The  ass  oocupips  a  nine  h  inoro  important  place 
in  the  farm  life  of  the  East  than  his  neglected  de- 
scendant occupies  in  England  to-day.  The  liner 
breeds  are  regularly  used  for  riding,  while  the 
commoner  breeds  draw  the  plough  and  carry  bur- 
dens. '  The  ass  is  still  the  most  universal  of  all 
beasts  of  burden  in  Bible  lands '  ( Post,  in  Hastings' 
DB). 

The  camel  (vcimi/Xos)  figures  in  two  sayings  of 
our  Lord  \\  hicli  have  a  proverbial  ring,  ("fhomson 
notes  that  the  camel  is  still  the  subject  of  many 
Arabian  proverbs).  The  three  Synoptics  record 
the  saying,  '  It  is  easier  for  a  camel  to  pass  through 
a  needle's  eye  than  for  a  rich  man  to  enter  the 
kingdom  of  God '  (Mt  l'J■-^  Mk  10=^  Lk  If ").  There 
is  no  need  to  stumble  at  the  hyperbole  involved  in 
'  a  needle's  eye,'  nor  is  it  necessary  to  explain  the 
phrase  as  a  reference  to  a  particularly  small  gate 
(see  art.  '  Camel '  in  Hastings'  DB).  Tlie  second 
reference  is  found  in  the  denunciation  of  the 
Pharisees,  who  strain  out  a  gnat  while  they  gulp 
down  a  camel  (Mt  23^).  A  camel-caravan  would 
be  one  of  the  sights  of  our  Lord's  boyhood,  and  the 
awkwardness  of  meeting  a  camel  in  the  narrow 
street,  which  modern  travellers  experience,  was 
not  unkni.wn  iiineteen  hundred  y<'ars  ago.  The 
camel  must  liave  been  the  largest  animal  with 
which  our  Lord  was  familiar,  and  in  both  sayings 
it  is  mentioned  for  its  size. 

The  only  other  reference  to  the  camel  occurs  in 
the  description  of  the  dress  of  John  the  Baptist, 


.  of  Elijah,  was  of  camel': 


2.  Of  larger  cattle*  oxen,  bulls,  and  calves  find 
a  place  in  the  Go.spels. 

The  ox  ()3oOs)  is  nientioni'd  tlneo  times  in  Luke, 
twice  in  connej;ion  wilii  iIm-  ;i-^  in  ih.-  |i;issages 
previously  cited  (Lk  i:;''  I  i  i,  .umI  ■,,_:.n\i  in  the 
parable  of  the  Great  ,Su|,],ri,  «|i,ii  \,nv  uf  the 
invited  guests  excuses  liiui.self  on  the  ground  that 
he  has  bought  five  yoke  of  oxen  whicli  need  to  be 
tested  (Lk  14'").  The  ox  was  emploj'ed  in  the 
East  for  ploughing  anil  thresliing  ;  it  was  also  used 
for  sacrihce,  as  appears  from  the  only  other  pas- 
sage in  the  Gospels  where  oxen  are  mentioned, 
viz.  St.  John's  account  of  the  cleansing  of  the 
Temple  court.  Sheep  and  oxen  (Jn  2"'-)  were 
driven  out  along  with  their  vendors. 

Bulls  (TaO/)oi)and  fat  beasts  (trirnrrd)!  are  men- 
tioned only  in  Mt  22^.  They  form  samples  of  the 
rich  dainties  prepared  for  the  marriage  feast  of 
the  king's  son,  and  illustrate  the  magnificent  scale 
of  the  entertainment  which  those  summoned  to 
partake  so  insolently  sjnirned.  Similarly  the  fatted 
calf  (6  yu.6(rxos  6  <riTeu7-As),  which  appears  only  in  the 
parable  of  the  Prodigal  Son  (Lk  15-^-  -'•  *'),  indicates 
an  unusual  feast,  made  to  celebrate  an  unusual 
joy.  The  fatted  calf  is  contrasted  with  the  kid, 
the  customary  repast,  which  Oriental  hospitality 
provides  ^o  this  day.  The  elder  brotlier  complains 
that  he  has  never  been  allowed  to  ofl'er  his  friends 
the  entertainment  which  his  father  is  wont  to  pro- 
vide for  any  chance  visitor  ;  while  for  the  graceless 
prodigal  is  killed  the  fatted  calf,  which  is  destined 
only  for  high  festivals.  The  bulls  and  fatlings  in 
the  parable  of  the  Marriage  Feast,  and  the  fatted 
calf  in  the  parable  of  the  Returning  Prodigal, 
alike  stand  for  the  lavish  generosity  of  God's  love, 
which  the  Scribes  and  Pliarisees  could  not  ap- 
preciate, even  when  ofiered  to  themselves,  the  kind's 
invited  guests,  much  less  when  those  prodigals, 
the  publicans  and  sinners,  were  likewise  embraced 
therein. 

3.  Of  smaller  cattle,  goats  and  sheep  are  men- 
tioned. 

Goats  (fpi0os,  ipi<piov,  lit.  'kid,'  a  meaning  re- 
tained in  Lk  15"";  in  LXX  the  word='goati'  as 
well  as  'kid')  appear  only  in  the  picture  of  the 
Last  Judgment  (Mt  25'-'-),  where  they  are  con- 
trasted with  sheep.  The  point  of  the  contrast  lies 
in  the  colour  rather  than  the  character  of  the 
animals,  the  sheep  being  pure  white,  while  the 
goats  are  covered  with  long  jet-black  hair.  So  in 
the  Song  of  Solomon  (4')  the  locks  of  the  beloved 
are  compared  to  '  a  flock  of  goats  that  appear  from 
Mt.  Gilead.'  The  Son  of  Mnn  si i all  separate  all 
the  nations  'as  a  slic]ilirr(l  sr|.,-n:ili'(  h  tlie  sheep 
from  the  -oats,'  aii.l  tli.'  siinil^'  i-  .|uite  true  to 
pastoral  lifr.  Tristnii.i  (.\./^  IIi.^l.  p.  8'.))  says 
that  slioep  and  goats  ii.isture  togellier,  but  never 
trespass  on  eiiuli' other's  <loiiiains;  they  are  folded 
together,  but  they  ilo  not  mix  ;  they  may  be  seen 
to  enter  tlie  f(jld  in  company,  but  once  inside  they 
are  kept  separate. 

The  Syrian  goat,  Capra  inambriea,  is  the  most 
common  breed  in  Palestine.  It  is  distinguished 
by  long  pendant  ears,  stout  recurved  horns,  and 
long  black  silky  hair.  Flocks  of  goats  are  most 
frequent  in  hilly  districts  from  Hebron  to  Lebanon, 
where  their  habit  of  browsing  on  young  trees  tends 
to  deforest  the  country. 

*The  word  'cattle Ms  used  to  tr.  Opi/^f^utTcc  in  Jn  4^-.  The 
word  is  also  found  in  the  AV  of  Lk  17?. 

t  Wyclif,  following  the  Vulg.  altilia,  ( 
(fowls)' ;  but  fatted  cattle  are  probably  i 


ANIMALS 


A  kid  {lpi<pos,  some  MSS  ipiifuoi')  is  mentioned  in 
the  parable  of  tlie  Prodigal  Son  (Lk  Id^^).  The 
kid  formed  the  ordinary  dish  at  an  Eastern  feast, 
as  lambs  were  preserved  for  the  sake  of  wool,  and 
were,  as  a  rule,  slain  only  in  sacrifice.  For  the 
contrast  between  the  kid  and  the  fatted  calf  see 
above,  s.  'fatted  calf.'  There  is  no  other  direct 
mention  of  the  goat  in  the  Gospels,  though  the 
wine-bottles  (do-Koi)  referred  to  in  Mt  9"  (||  Mk  2", 
Lk  5*"-)  were  doubtless  made  of  goat-skin.  These 
bottles  were  made  by  cutting  off  the  head  and  legs, 
and  drawing  the  carcass  out  by  the  neck,  and  then 
tying  the  neck,  legs,  and  vent,  and  tanning  the 
skin,  with  the  hairy  side  out  (Post,  in  Hastings' 
DB  ii.  195). 

Tlie  word  for  sheep  (TrpS^aTov)  is  to  be  found  in 
the  Gospels  no  fewer  than  36  times,  while  words 
connected  with  sheep,  e.g.  iroi/xfrj,  ttoI/j-viov,  '  a  flock,' 
are  not  infrequent.  Sheep  were  so  often  in  the 
thoughts  of  Jesus  that  we  have  postponed  fuller 
consideration  of  the.se  passages  to  §  iv. 

Of  the  two  words  for  lamb,  one,  dixvos,  is  applied 
only  to  our  Lord,  whom  John  the  Baptist  twice 
describes  as  '  the  Lamb  of  God,'  adding  in  one 
cjvse  'which  taketh  away  the  sin  of  the  world' 
(Jn  l--^-  '■^j.     The  title  implies  sacrifice. 

\\Tiethor  the  Baptist  was  thiukin?  nf  the  Paschal  lamb  or  of 
the  lamb  daily  offered  in  the  temple  matters  little.  In  Jesus  he 
saw  'the  reality  of  which  all  animal  sacrifice  was  the  symbol' 
(M.arrus  Dods).  No  doubt  the  patience  of  the  lamb  is  implied 
in  the  title,  as  unfolded  in  Is  53'  '  as  a  lamb  before  its  shearer  is 
dumb,  so  he  opened  not  his  mouth.'  The  purity  of  the  lamb, 
without  spot  and  without  fault,  on  which  St."  Peter  dwells 
(I  P  11-'),  is  also  involved.  But  the  idea  of  redemption  through 
sacritice  is  fundamental  in  the  Baptist's  words. 

The  second  word  for  '  lamb '  occurs  in  two  forms, 
ipms  (ace.  pi.)  and  dpvlov.  The  diminutive  form  is 
found  only  in  .Tn  21",  where  our  Lord  bids  Peter  feed 
Ilis  lambs.  'Lambs'  is  used  instead  of  'sheep,' 
to  bring  out  more  strongly  tlie  appeal  to  care,  and 
the  consequent  complete  confidence  in  Peter  (M. 
Uods).  In  the  Apocalypse  our  Lord  is  c;Uled  '  the 
Lamb '  (to  applof)  no  fewer  than  21  times.  The  form 
apva^  is  confined  to  Lk  1  (fi  '  Behold,  I  send  you  forth 
as  lambs  into  the  midst  of  wolvc-.' 


Th^ 


are  dead."  Further  support  for  the  rcailiiij;  'lambs'  may  per- 
haps be  derived  from  Justin's  casual  description  of  Marcioiiites 
as  lambs  torn  by  wolves  {ifni  ri,>r,j>Tcc<r,u.itu,  Apot.  c  68). 

i.  Ponlfry  were  kept  in  Palestine  in  the  time 
of  our  Lord,  as  is  clear  from  the  references  to  the 
cock  (oKiKTup)  and  the  hen  (^/)^'^s).  If  we  except 
the  mention  of  cock-crow  (see  sep.  art.)  in  .AIlc 
IS'*,  the  cock  appears  only  in  the  story  of  Peters 
denial,  and  our  Lord's  prediction  of  it  (Mt  26""'', 
Mk  14»W",  Lk  22«'*'-,  Jn  IS**  18^'').  The  hen 
(gpKis)  affords  a  simile  in  the  lament  over  Jeru- 
salem. '  How  often  would  I  have  gathered  thy 
cliildren  together,  as  a  hen  gatliereth  her  chickens 
(Lk.  ')ier  brood')  under  her  wings  ! '  (Mt  23",  Lk 
13").  The  action  by  wliich  the  hen  gives  rest  and 
protection  to  the  chickens  under  the  shelter  of  her 
wings  is  too  well  known  to  need  comment.  The 
tenderness  of  the  .simile  witnesses  to  the  love  of 
Jesus  for  His  own  countrjmien,  and  His  longing 
to  avert  national  disaster.  The  words  used  for 
'chickens'  and  'brood'  {voaaiov  and  i'o<T<nd.)  are 
found  here  only,  though  a  word  from  the  same 
root  is  employed  in  the  i>lirase  'two  young  pigeons ' 
(voffo-oi'is  irepiaTepCiv,  Lk  2-'''). 

5.  To  the  list  of  domestic  animals  we  may  add 
dogs  and  swine,  which  were  cla-ssed  together  as 
unclean. 

Dogs  Ui-pfs)  arc  mentioned  twice.  In  the  Sermon 
(in  the  Mount  the  disciples  are  warned  not  to  give 
that  which  is  holy  to  dogs  (Mt  7").      The  pariah 


dogs  that  infest  Eastern  towns,  and  liave  to  be 
cleared  off  periodically  ■iWth  poison,  are  '  a  lean, 
mang}%  and  sinister  brood,'  acting  as  scavengers 
and  living  on  offal.  Naturally  these  animals  do 
not  possess  a  fastidious  palate,  and  their  manner 
of  life  is  disgusting  enough  to  justify  the  Jews' 
contempt  for  them.  To  calla  man  a  dog  is  through- 
out the  Bible  a  customary  form  of  abuse.  These 
wild  dogs,  says  Tristram  (Kat.  Hist.  p.  80),  were 
the  only  dogs  known  in  Palestine,  with  the  excep- 
tion of  the  Persian  greyhound  ;  and  thou"h  they 
could  be  trained  enough  to  act  as  watch -dogs  for 
the  slieep-folds,*  they  hardly  became  companions 
to  man  [the  dog  of  To  5"  11''  is  altogether  an  excep- 
tional case].  To  the  Jew  the  dog  wa.s  a  very  fitting 
symbol  of  the  man  who  had  depraved  his  moral 
and  spiritual  taste  by  evil  living.  In  the  Didaclic, 
'  Give  not  that  which  is  holy  to  dogs '  is  interpreted 
to  mean,  Do  not  administer  the  Eucliarist  to  the 
unbaptized  ;  but  the  principle  involved  in  the  text 
is  capable  of  Avider  application.  A  Christian  is 
not  required  to  wear  his  heart  on  his  sleeve  !  In 
the  parable  of  Dives  and  Lazarus  it  is  said  that 
these  street-dogs  came  and  licked  the  beggar's 
sores  (Lk  16-').  This  is  an  aggravation  rather  than 
an  alleviation  of  Lazarus'  suffering.  It  shows  his 
destitute  and  defenceless  condition,  that  he  could 
not  even  keep  the  dogs  away  !  A  diminutive  form 
of  Kvi.iv,  viz.  Kivdpiof,  occurs  in  the  story  of  the 
Syro-Phoenician  woman.  '  It  is  not  right,'  said  the 
]\iaster,  '  to  take  the  children's  bread  and  cast  it 
to  dogs.'  'Yea,  Lord,*  replied  the  woman,  'yet 
the  dogs  eat  of  the  crumbs  that  fall  from  their 
masters'  table '  (Mt  15^'-,  Mk  7-'^').  Bochart  treats 
the  diminutive  Kvfdptov  as  doubling  the  contempt 
inherent  in  the  word.  But  it  is  clear  from  the 
woman's  reply  that  the  dogs  in  question  are  kept 
within  the  house  ;  they  are  household  pets.  Tris- 
tram says  that  he  found  no  difficulty  in  making  a 
pet  of  a  puppy  taken  from  among  the  pariah  dogs 
{Nat.  Hist.  p.  80).  Probabljr  the  Kivapia.  were 
which  had  been  taken  into  Jewish  house- 


mi 


as  pets  in  a  similar  way.  The  word  is  not 
intended  to  add  to  the  harshness  of  our  Lord's 
saying ;  the  woman  saw  in  it  her  ground  for  appeal. 

Swine  {x°Vos,  not  Cs)  appear  in  the  story  of  the 
Gadarene  demoniac  (Mt  8*"f-,  Mk  5"ff-,  Lk  8=--''). 
'  The  fact  that  swine  were  kept  in  Palestine  at  all 
is  evidence  of  the  presence  of  the  foreigner  '(O. 
Holtzmann).  Cf.  Lv  11',  Dt  148,  j^  gji.  The 
country  on  the  east  side  of  the  Lake  was  much 
under  Gentile  influence.  The  Prodigal  Son  is  put  to 
tend  swine.  The  nature  of  the  task  is  evidence  at 
once  of  the  ditt'erence  between  his  home  and  the 
far  country,  and  of  the  want  and  degradation  into 
which  he  "has  fallen  (Lk  15'")  The  only  further 
reference  to  swine  is  the  saying,  '  Cast  not  your 
jjearls  before  swine'  (Mt  1''),  in  which  otir  Lord 
emphasizes  the  necessity  of  tact  in  religious  work. 

ii.  AViLD  ANIMAL.S.— 1.  Oriploy,  the  "eneral  word 
for  wild  beast,  is  found  in  the  Gospels  only  once. 
Mk  1"  tells  us  that  during  the  Temptation  our 
Lord  ■was  with  the  wild  beasts.  Thomson  says 
that  'though  there  are  now  no  lions  (in  Palestine), 
wolves,  leopards,  and  panthers  still  prowl  about  the 
■wild -wajdya' {Land and  Boo/c,  'Central  Palestine,' 
p.  594).  '  In  the  age  of  Jesus,  the  chief  beast  of 
prey  in  Pn|p>tine  Nsa-<.  a.s  to-day,  the  jackal. 
-Mark's  aiMition  iii.li.  .Ucs  Jesus'  complete  .sever- 
ance from  human  ^"(i..ty'(U.  Holtzmann,  i{/6  o/" 
Jesus,  p.  1431.). 

The  word  fti;/»»  is  now  to  be  found  in  the  second  of  the  Ave 
new  Sa\in^  recently  recovered  by  ilessr3.  Grenfell  and  Hunt ; 
•The  birds  of  the  air  and  whatever  of  the  beasts  are  on  the 
earth  or  under  it  are  they  who  draw  us  into  the  kingdom.' 


*  It  would  be  truer  to  say  that  the  pariah  dois  have  de: 
from  the  former. 


Id  be  truer  to  say  that  the  panah  dois  have  de^ene- 
1  the  sheep-dogs  thau  that  the  latter  have  developed 


ANIMALS 


ANIMALS 


G5 


Here  the  word  is  not  confined  to  '  beasts  of  prey ' ;  it  stands  for 
the  whole  l<ingdoni  of  wild  animals.  There  is  a  similar  use  of 
the  word  in  a  saving  of  our  Lord  as  given  by  Justin  Martyr ; 
'  Be  not  anxious  as  to  what  ye  shall  oat  or  what  ye  shall  put  on  : 
are  ye  not  much  better  than  tlie  liirds  and  the  beastsV  (1  Aiiul. 
15).  These  considerations  sup))ort  the  conclusion  that  St.  .Mark's 
addition  does  not  imply  physical  danger,  but  is  rather  intended 
to  suggest  that  our  Lord  was  alone  with  Nature. 

Two  beasts  of  prey  mentioned  by  name  in  the 
Gospels  are  the  fox  {aXunr-qi)  and  the  wolf  (\vkos). 
The  fox,  which  has  at  least  a  hole  to  live  in,  is 
contrasted  with  the  homeless  Son  of  Man  (Mt  8^", 
Lk  9^8).  In  Lk  13»^  our  Lord  speaks  of  Herod  as 
'  that  fox.'  The  cunning  and  perhaps  the  cowardice 
of  the  animal  are  the  basis  of  the  comparison. 
'  The  name,'  saj's  O.  Holtzmann,  '  iimst  have  been 
given  to  Herod  because  he  was  inimical,  yet,  not 
daring  to  make  any  open  attack,  timidly  prowled 
about  until  he  found  an  opportunity  to  murder  in 
secret'  (Life  of  Jesus,  p.  364). 

The  wolf  is  mentioned  only  in  connexion  with 
or  in  contrast  to  sheep.  The  wolf  is  the  chief 
enemy  against  which  the  shepherd  has  to  guard 
his  flock.  '  A  single  wolf,'  says  Tristram,  '  is  far 
more  destructive  than  a  whole  pack  of  jackals ' 
(Nat.  Hist.  p.  153).  Eastern  shepherds  employ 
dogs  (if  they  employ  them  at  all)  not  to  help  in 
herding  the  sheep,  but  to  ward  off  wolves.  In 
contrast  to  the  hireling,  the  Good  Shepherd  faces 
the  wolf  even  at  the  risk  of  his  life  (Jn  10'=). 
False  prophets  are  wolves  in  sheep's  clothing  (Mt 
7'*).  The  contrast  between  outward  profession 
and  inward  cliaracter  could  not'  be  more  vividly 
expressed.  The  same  antitliesis  is  used  by  our 
Lord  to  portray  the  contrast  between  the  Church 
and  the  world,  between  the  patient  non-resistance 
of  the  one  and  the  brutal  violence  of  the  other. 
The  disciples  are  sent  forth  as  sheep  (Lk.  as  lambs) 
into  the  midst  of  wolves  (Mt  10'«,  Lk  10^). 

2.  The  general  term  for  wild  birds  is  ra  Trereii/d, 
'  the  birds,'  often  ra  ireTeiva  tou  ovfjanoO,  '  the  birds 
of  heaven.'  They  are  mentioned  in  the  Sermon  on 
the  Mount :  '  Consider  the  birds  :  they  do  not  sow, 
nor  reap,  nor  gather  into  barns'  (Mt  6-*;  in  the 
parallel  passage,  Lk  12^,  the  reading  is  KdpaKas, 
'ravens,'  which,  however,  are  themselves  called 
ireTcivd  at  the  end  of  the  verse).  Dean  Stanley 
says  ,  that  the  birds  most  in  evidence  round 
the  Sea  of  Galilee  are  partridges  and  pigeons. 
Finches  and  bulbuls  are  also  aljundant,  accord- 
ing to  Thomson.  For  the  doctrine  of  providence 
involved  in  this  and  similar  sayings  of  our  Lord, 
we  must  refer  our  readers  to  g'iv.  Like  the 
foxes,  the  birds  are  contrasted  with  the  Son  of 
Man ;  they  have  nests,  while  He  Iiath  not  where 
to  lay  His  head  (Mt  8*,  Lk  9^8).  The  birds  appear 
in  the  parable  of  the  Sower,  where  tliey  pick  up 
the  seed  that  falls  by  the  wayside  (Mt  l'3^  Mk  4-', 
Lk  8").  No  doubt  the  lields  round  the  lake,  with 
the  birds  busy  upon  them,  could  be  seen  from  the 
place  where  Jesus  stood  to  teach  the  people.  Prob- 
ably the  parable  was  spoken  early  in  the  year. 
The  parable  of  the  Mustard  Seed  also  introduces 
the  birds,  which  come  and  lodge  in  the  branches 
of  the  full-grown  tree  (Mt  13=-,  Mk  4-^  Lk  13'"). 
Here  the  imagery  seems  to  be  drawn  from  Dn 
4''-'  ■-',  where  the  kingdom  of  Nebuchadrezzar  is 
likened  to  a  tree  '  upon  whose  branches  the  birds 
of  the  heavens  had  their  habitations.'  Daniel 
interprets  the  tree  to  represent  the  greatness  of 
Nebuchadrezzar's  dominion,  which  is  to  reach  to 
the  end  of  the  earth.  The  description  in  the 
parable  carries  with  it  the  same  implication  with 
regard  to  the  kingdom  of  heaven.  There  is  one 
other  reference  to  '  the  birds '  in  Lk  12=*  '  How 
much  better  are  ye  than  the  birds  ! ' 

The  following  particular  wild  birds  are  men- 
tioned in  the  Gospels: — dove  (pigeon),  eagle,  raven, 
sparrow,  turtle-dove. 
VOL.  1.  — 5 


In  all  four  Gospels  the  dove  appears  as  the 
symbol  of  the  Holy  Ghost  .it  cmu'  T-unl's  llapli^m 
In  Mt  SiHhe  vision  of  the  ll.il,\  i;ii.i-i  .!,  .,  ,i,liiiu 
in  the  form  of  a  dove  (licrd  ^  ■  .  ;  i  . nn-.  in 
have  been  granted  to  all  prorni  ,ii  ili,.  {'..iptisiii. 
In  Mk  11"  and  Lk  3==  the  vision  is  ap|)areutly 
addressed  more  especially  to  Jesus  Himself.  In 
Jn  1'=  it  is  a  sign  given  to  John  the  Baptist.  In 
the  story  of  the  Creation,  a  metaphor  from  liird-life 
is  employed  to  describe  the  Spirit  of  God  fluttering 
(KVm  'brooding')  over  the  waters  (Gn  P).  The 
same  Spirit  rests  on  the  Saviour  with  whom  begins 
God's  new  creation.  But  the  mention  of  the  dove 
naturally  carries  us  back  to  the  sti.i y  of  the  Flood 
(Gn  8").  For  Jesus  the  dove  wii  h  oin  ,  .l.^f  after 
the  Flood  is  the  emblem  of  the  Siiiiil  [.\.  I',.  Bruce 
in  Expositor's  Greek  Tcsttuiinit,  on  Mt  3i«). 
The  Holy  Ghost  in  the  form  of  a  ilove  typilies  the 
hope  of  the  gospel,  peace  between  man  and  God. 
In  cleansing  the  Temple  -  court  our  Lord  came 
upon  them  that  sold  doves  for  sacritice.  It  is  to 
these  dove-sellers  that  the  words  in  Jn  2'"  are 
addressed,  '  Take  these  things  hence.'  The  cattle 
can  be  driven  out :  the  doves  must  be  carried  out. 
This  detail,  which  is  perfectly  natural,  is  recorded 
only  in  John,  who  con.sequently  mentions  'doves' 
twice  (Jn  2"-  ■"),  while  Matthew  .-md  Mark  have 
only  one  reference  each  (Mt  2I'=,  Mk  ll""). 

The  word  Tepiarepd  is  used  in  the  LXX  where 
the  EV  reads  'pigeon'  as  well  as  where  it  reads 
'dove.'  The  same  bird  is  probably  meant  by  the 
two  English  words.  But  in  the  directions  for 
sacrilice  in  Leviticus,  the  word  'pigeon'  is  regu- 
larly used,  and  in  Lk  2-*  wepiarepa  is  translated 
'pigeon,'  though  elsewhere  in  the  Gospels  it  is 
rendered  'dove.'  In  Lv  12"  a  poor  woman,  'if  she 
be  not  able  to  bring  a  lamb,  shall  bring  two  turtles 
or  two  young  pigeons.'  The  mother  of  Jesus 
brings  the  poor  woman's  sacritice. 

To  the  ancients  tlie  dove  symbolized  purity 
(Aristotle  mentions  the  iliastity  of  the  dove),  and 
this  fact  pcrhap-  iii.nl.'  I.inl.sof  this  class  suitable 
for  sacrifice.  1  liu  only  oilier  reference  to  the  dove 
in  the  Gos].)els  i.s  found  m  Mt  lO'",  where  the  dis- 
ciples are  bidden  to  be  as  pure  (d/f^paioi)  as  doves, 
a  command  which  St.  Paul  echoes  in  Ko  16'^  and 
Ph  21=. 

The  turtle-dove  {Tpvywi/)  is  mentioned  only  in 
the  quotation  from  Lv  128  ;„  lj^  2-\  There  are 
three  species  of  turtle-doves  in  Palestine.  The  col- 
lared turtle  (T.  risorias)  is  the  largest,  and'  fre- 
quents the  shores  of  the  Dead  Sea.  The  palm 
turtle  (T.  Senegalensis)  '  resorts  much  to  the 
gardens  and  enclosures  of  Jerusalem.'  'It  is 
very  familiar  and  confiding  in  man,  and  is  never 
molested.'  The  common  turtle  {'£.  auritas)  is  the 
most  abundant  of  the  three  species. 

The  eagle  (de7-6s)  is  the  subject  of  a  proverbial 
saying  recorded  in  Mt  24™  ||  Lk  17='  '  where  the 
carcass  is,  there  shall  the  eagles  be  gathered 
together.'  According  to  Post,  there  are  four  kinds 
of  vultures  and  eiglit  kinds  of  eagles  to  be  found 
in  the  Holy  Land.  Here  the  term  'eagle'  is 
generic.  Thomson  describes  the  eagles'  flight  as 
majestic,  and  their  eyesight  and,  apparently,  sense 
of  smell,  are  both  extremely  keen. 

The  exact  force  of  the  above  saxinu-  i-  Ii  I'l  i      I  '■  iniin'  . 


to  '  the  conflux  of  the  godly  1 
Gospel'  (Master  Trapp).     Mor( 
passage  as  hinting  at  the  gallui 
the  moribund  Jewish  nation      ! 
in  Mt  24  the  reference  ol  > 
and  false  Christs  of  v.'^.     I 
faith,  such  men  will  find  1  i 
lar  fanaticism  to  their  "^\  i    : 
perfectly  gem-i;.!  in  i-nn,  ..<  ■\ 
National  ruin  ;im  I  i       >    I    i 


ANIMALS 


Christianity,  i.  126).  In  Lk  17^7  the  'wheresoever*  becomes 
'where,*  and  the  sajing  ia  in  answer  to  a  definite  question 
regarding  the  sij^ns  that  are  to  mark  the  sudden  return  of  the 
Son  of  Wan.     Here  it  is  difficult  not  to  interpret  the  eagles  of 


the  Roman  standards. 

For  St.  Luke  evidently  does  not  take 

lent  of  a  -eneral  la«-.    The  Matthajan 

form  and  position  give 

he  more  attractive  interpretation. 

The  Faven  (lipot)  is  mentioned  only  in  Lk  VT-*, 
'  Consider  tiie  ravens  how  they  neither  sow  nor 
reap.'  Tlie  parallel  Mt  6^  reads,  'birds.'  The 
whole  jiassafre  and  the  force  of  Luke's  change  will 
be  considered  in  §  iv.  The  term  '  raven  '  includes 
the  numerous  tribes  of  crows.  Tristram  mentions 
eight  difierent  species  as  common  in  Palestine. 
God's  care  for  the  ravens  is  twice  mentioned  in 
OT  (Job  38-",  Ps  147").  These  passages  may  have 
influenced  Luke,  if  he  changed  'birds'  into 
'ravens.'  Again,  they  may  have  been  in  the 
mind  of  our  Lord,  if  Luke  gives  the  original  form 
of  the  saying. 

Tlie  aparrow  {(rrpoveiov)  is  twice  mentioned  in 
sayings  recorded  both  in  Matthew  and  Luke.  In 
Mt  10^  we  read,  '  Are  not  two  .sparrows  sold  for  a 
farthing?'  and  in  Lk  12*  'Are  not  five  sparrows 
sold  for  two  farthings  ? '  In  Tatian's  Diatessaron 
the  words  in  tabcrna,  '  in  the  cookshop,'  are  added. 
Doubtless  we  have  here  the  prices  current  in 
popular  eating-houses  in  the  time  of  our  Lord. 
'  Sparrows,  two  a  farthing  ;  five  a  halfpenny.'  In 
Mt  10->  and  Lk  12'  our  Lord  adds,  '  Ye  are  much 
more  worth  than  many  span'ows.'  For  a  dis- 
cussion of  these  references  to  sparrows  and  of 
their  bearing  on  our  Lord's  teaching,  we  must 
again  refer  our  readers  to  §  iv. 

3.  For  fsh,  three  words  are  used,  I'x^us,  IxSvSiov, 
and  dxpapiof.  The  latter  term  is  confined  to  John. 
In  the  feeding  of  the  live  thousand,  the  Synoptics 
speak  of  'two  fishes'  {dvo  IxOoas,  Mt  U"-'^,  Mk 
gis.  41.  «^  Lij  gi3. 16)  I'l^g  parallel  narrative  in  John 
reads  dvo  i\j/a.pia,  which  is  also  translated  '  two 
fishes'  (Jn  6"-").  But  while  the  Syn.  ixBvt  is  a 
general  term,  6\l/dpi.oi>,  says  Edersheira,  '  refers,  no 
doubt,  to  those  small  fishes  (probably  a  kind  of 
sardine)  of  wliich  millions  were  caught  in  the  lake, 
and  whicli,  dried  and  salted,  would  form  the  most 
common  savoury,  with  bread,  for  the  fisher-popula- 
tion along  the  shore '  {Life  and  Times  of  Jesus  the 
Me-^siah,  i.  682).  The  jiarable  of  the  Drag-net  (Mt 
J3J7-50J  ig  taken  from  the  life  of  the  Galihean  fisher- 
folk.  But  this  definite  meaning  of  irj/apiov  cannot 
always  be  maintained :  for  in  John's  narrative  of 
the  miraculous  draught  of  fishes,  o^papiov  and 
ix6vi  are  interchanged  as  equivalents  [oypipiov,  Jn 
219.111.13.  fj/gusj  vv.* "• ").  Jesus  says  to  the  dis- 
ciples, '  Bring  of  the  fish  (6\pap'i.oii/)  whicli  ye  have 
now  caught.  Simon  Peter  went  up,  and  ilrag^-ed 
the  net  to  shore  full  of  great  fishes '  (IxSi'av).  Both 
in  the  narratives  of  the  miraculous  multiplication 
of  loaves  and  fishes  and  ia  His  post-resurrection 
appearance  by  the  lake,  oirr  Lord  makes  use  of  the 
disciples'  own  resources,  while  adding  to  them 
something  of  His  own.  In  the  similar  miracle 
recorded  in  Lk  .'),  I'x^i's  is  the  word  used  (w.^-^). 
When  narrating;  the  feeding  of  the  four  thousand, 
both  Matthc"  .md  M:iik  speak  of  a  few  small 
fishes  (6\iya  <\«.  j.a,  Mt  \:v'\  Mk  8').  These  are 
probably  the  s.inn'  a<  i1m'  i\^apia  of  Jn  6.  In  Mt 
15*"  ix^i's  reappiiviis.  Tin-  remaining  references  to 
fish  do  not  require  luiu-h  comment.  Mt  17"  is 
concerned  with  the  stater  in  the  fish's  mouth. 
Tliis  passage  contains  the  only  reference  to  line- 
fishing  in  the  Gospels  :  '  Cast  a  hook  and  take  the 
first  fish  (ixSi'v)  that  cometh  up.'  In  Lk  24"  we 
read  that  our  Lord  convinced  the  disciples  of  the 
reality  of  His  resurrection  by  eating  before  them  a 
piece  of  cooked  fish  (ix9vot  dirrov  lUpo^).  In  Mt 
7'°l|Lk  11"  the  word  ^x*'''.  'fish,' is  found  in  the 
teaching  of  Jesus.  In  Mattliew  the  passage  runs 
thus  :  '  What  man  is  there  among  you  who,  if  his 


son  ask  for  bread,  will  give  him  a  stone  ?  or  if  lie 
ask  for  fish,  will  give  him  a  serpent  ? '  Here  fish  and 
bread  are  the  subject  of  joint  reference,  as  in  the 
narratives  of  the  feeding  of  the  five  and  four 
thousands.  Bread  and  fish  are  clearly  the  custo- 
mary diet  of  the  common  people  of  Galilee,  and  in 
the  'form  of  these  questions,  as  in  so  many  other 
details,  the  teaching  of  Je.sus  closely  reUects  the 
daily  life  of  His  countrymen. 

In  the  Catacombs  the  figure  of  a  fish  was  often 
used  as  a  symbol  of  Christ.  The  letters  which 
make  up  ixSvi  form  the  initial  letters  of  'IijffoSs 
Xpia-Tos  Qeov  Tids  'S.ij)Trip,  so  that  the  word  served  as 
a  summary  of  the  faith.     See  art.  Chkist  IN  ART. 

i.  The  general  word  for  serpent  (6i/iis)  occurs 
7  times  in  the  Gospels.  No  human  fatlier  will 
give  his  son  a  serpent  as  a  substitute  for  fish  (Mt 
7'",  Lk  11").  Some  small  reptile  as  common  as  the 
scorpion  must  be  meant,  as  Luke  twice  (10'"  11'-) 
couples  scorpions  and  serpents  (60eis).  The  dis- 
ciples are  to  lie  as  wise  as  serpents  [or  '  as  the 
serpent,'  reading  6  50is  for  oi  «0«s :  the  sense  is 
the  same  in  either  case]  (Mt  10").  The  ideal  of 
discipleship  is  a  combination  of  the  prudence  of  the 
serpent  with  the  guilelessness  of  doves.  As  in  the 
saying  about  not  casting  one's  pearls  before  swine, 
our  Lord  here  condemns  recklessness  and  tactless- 
ness in  religious  work.  '  Religion  without  policy 
is  too  simple  to  be  safe :  Policy  without  religion 
is  too  subtle  to  be  good  '  (Trapp).  In  JIt  23^3  the 
word  '  serpents '  is  applied  to  the  Pharisees. 

In  the  later  appendix  to  Mark's  Gospel,  power  to  take  up 


I  have  given  you  power  to  tread  upon  serpents  and  J 
and  upon  all  the  might  of  the  evil  one."  WH  here  note  a  refer- 
ence to  Ps  9113  *  Thou  shalt  tread  upon  the  lion  and  the  adder.* 
Possibly  the  passage  is  to  be  interpreted  metaphorically,  and 
the  'serpents'  are  to  be  explained  by  the  might  of  the  Evil 
One.  The  words,  however,  find  a  more  literal  fulfilment  in  St. 
Paul's  experience  at  Melita  (Ac  283-  6). 

The  viper  (^X'*"*)  is  referred  to  only  in  the 
XiWcusQ  yevvrip.a.Ta  ixiSvCiv,  'offspring  of  vipers,'  and 
the  phrase  is  applied  only  to  scribes  and  Pharisees. 
John  the  Baptist  thus  addressed  the  Pharisees  that 
came  to  his  baptism,  '  O  ott'spring  of  vipers,  who 
hath  warned  you  to  flee  from  the  wrath  to  come  1 ' 
(Mt  3',  Lk  3').  According  to  Mt.,  our  Lord  on 
two  occasions  adopted  the  same  mode  of  addre.ss 
(Mt  123*23").  Sand-vipers  about  1  foot  long  are 
common  in  Palestine.  The  young  are  said  to  feed 
upon  the  mother.  But  the  force  of  the  phrase, 
Bochart  observes,  is  not  to  be  derived  from  any 
such  special  characteristic ;  the  sense  implied  is 
simply  'bad  sons  of  bad  fathers.'  This  comment 
satisfactorily  interprets  Mt  23'=' :  but  perhaps  we 
may  read  a  little  more  into  the  phrase.  The  words 
of  John  the  Baptist  suggest  the  familiar  picture  of 
vipers  roused  from  torpor  into  actiiity  by  the  ap- 
proach of  heat  (cf.  Ac  28^).  In  Mt  l'^'^  the  phrase 
receives  added  point  from  the  fact  tliat  the  Phari- 
.sees  have  just  beenuttiMuiitiiit;  to  puisoii  the  popular 
mind  against  Christ  l.y  Miv^.-tin- tliat  the  miracles 
were  the  work  of  lii  rl/iliuK  ;  ihi'ie  is  something 
spiteful  and  venomous  alicut  tht-ir  attacks  on  our 
Lord. 

5.  Scorpions  {aKopwios),  which  we  are  told  may  be 
found  under  every  tliird  stone  in  Palestine,  are 
twice  mentioned  in  Luke.  The  disci|)les  are  to 
tread  on  scorpions  with  impunity  (Lk  10").  How- 
ever we  interpret  the  passage,  the  addition  of 
'  scorpion '  seems  to  imply  that  the  disciples  are  to 
be  protected  against  some  small,  frequent,  and  at 
the  same  time  serious  danger.  The  other  refer- 
ence is  in  Lk  11'-.  If  a  son  asks  for  an  egg,  the 
father  will  not  give  him  a  scorpion.  In  both 
passages  the  scorpion  and  the  serpent  are  men- 
tioned together,  being  common  objects  of  the 
country  in  Palestine.  The  scorpion  at  rest  is  said 
closely  to  resemble  an  egg  in  appearance. 


ANIMALS 


ANIMALS 


6.  The  worm  ((TKu>\i]i)  is  mentioned  only  in  Mk 
9^^  in  the  phrase  '  wliere  their  worm  dieth  not,'  a 
description  of  Gehenna  based  on  the  last  verse  of 
Isaiah  {&&-■>). 

In  the  TR  the  verse  appears  3  times,  Mk  9-"-  ■**>•  ^,  and  there 
is  something  impressive  in  the  repetition  :  WH,  however,  retain 
only  9-18,     Whether  literally  or  metaphorically  understood,  the 

phrase  must  not  be  tak *•'"  u„^:^  „c  „  r.i,_;„t: —  ^ — ►_; —  „« 

future  retribution.    Th 


his  life  :  the  part  lias  to  be  sacrificed  to  save  the  whole.    The 
same  law  of  sacrifice,  says  Christ,  holds  good  in  the  spiritual 

7.  Of  insects  the  bee  is  indirectly  referred  to, 
while  the  gnat,  the  locust,  and  the  moth  are  all 
mentioned.  In  Lk  24''-,  the  Western  Text  says  the 
disciples  gave  our  Lord  part  of  a  bees'  honeycomb 
(d7r6  /xeXiiririou  Kripiou),  i.r.  the  jn'oduct  of  hived  bees. 
John  the  Uapti.st,  on  the  other  hand,  lived  on  wild 
rock  honey,  i.e.  honey  deposited  in  clefts  of  the 
rock  by  wild  bees ;  this  honey  was  often  very 
difficult  to  o'et. 

Bees,  wild  and  hived,  are  very  common  in  Pales- 
tine. Tristram  {Nat._  Hist. j).  325)  says:  'Many 
of  the  Bedouin  obtain  their  subsistence  by  bee- 
hunting,  bringing  into  Jerusalem  skins  and  jars  of 
the  wild  honey  on  which  John  the  Baptist  fed.' 
Bee-keeping  is  much  practised,  especially  in  Galilee. 
The  hives  are  very  simple  in  construction  ;  being 
'  large  tubes  of  sun-dried  mud,  about  8  inches  in 
diameter  and  4  feet  long,  closed  with  mud  at  each 
end,  having  only  a  small  aperture  in  the  centre.' 

The  gnat  (/ccii-uf )  is  mentioned  in  Mt  23^''.  As 
one  of  the  smallest  animals,  it  is  contrasted  with 
the  camel,  one  of  the  largest.  The  Pharisees  strain 
out  a  gnat  with  scrupulous  care,  while  they  will 
swallow  a  camel.  They  are  careful  to  tithe' mint, 
but  they  fail  to  do  justice.  The  Pharisees  may 
have  adopted  a  practice  which  is  still  in  use  among 
the  Brahmans,  viz.  of  drinking  through  muslin  in 
order  to  avoid  swallowing  any  fly  or  insect  present 
in  the  water. 

Locusts  (d^piofs)  formed  part  of  the  food  of  John 
the  Baptist  (Mt  3^  Mk  1«).  The  LXX  uses  6.KpU 
for  the  third  of  the  four  kinds  of  edible  locusts 
mentioned  in  Lv  11--.  They  formed  a  common 
article  of  diet  in  Palestine,  and  there  is  no  need  to 
alter  the  text,  as  one  or  two  MSS  have  done,  veaA- 
ing  e'YKptoes,  'cakes.' 

The  moth  (o-tjs)  is  mentioned  as  disfiguring  earthly 
treasures (Mtei"--",  Lk  12'^).  Thecommon  clothes- 
moth  is  meant,  of  which  there  are  many  species  in 
Palestine.  '  In  this  warm  climate  it  is  almost  im- 
possible to  guard  against  their  ravages'  (Post). 
There  is  an  indirect  reference  to  the  saying  of 
Jesus  in  Ja  5^. 

8.  A  sponge  (0-^67705)  full  of  vinegar  was  offered 
to  our  Lord  on  the  cross  (Mt27-'*).  lOf  siwn^es,  the 
finest  in  texture  and  the  most  valued  is  the  Turkish 
or  Levant  sponge.  The  sponge-fisheries  of  the 
Mediterranean  have  always  been  and  still  are  very 
considerable.  For  the  method  of  diving  for  si>onges 
see  Post  in  Hastings'  DB  iv.  612''. 

iii.  The  place  of  animals  in  the  life  of  our 
Lord.— In  this  connexion  it  may  be  worth  while 
to  point  out  that  the  part  played  by  animals  in 
many  of  the  incidents  in  which  their  presence  is 
recorded,  serves  to  emphasize  tlie  humility  of  Jesus. 
The  two  youn^  pigeons  which  Mary  brings  as  an 
offering  when  she  presents  Jesus  in  the  Temple  (Lk 
2=<),  are  a  mark  of  her  poverty.  Jesus  belonged  to 
a  poor  family.  The  peaceful  character  of  Christ's 
teaching,  which  is  marked  at  the  outset  by  the 
descent  of  the  dove  at  His  baptism,  is  confirmed  at 
the  close  by  the  fact  that  He  rode  into  Jerusalem 
(Mt  21--'|:)  not  on  the  warrior's  horse,  but  on  the 
ass,  which,  as  prophecy  foretold,  was  to  be  a  sign 
of  the  lowliness  of  the  coming  Messiali. 

iv.  The  place  of  animals  in  the  teaching  of 


OUR  Lord. — We  have  reserved  for  discussion  under 
this  head  the  imagery  drawn  from  pastoral  life  in 
which  Jesus  described  His  own  mission,  and  the 
doctrine  of  providence  unfolded  more  especially  in 
His  sayings  about  the  birds  of  the  air. 

1.  Our  Lord's  mission  illust rated.  ~{a)  Jesus  con- 
fined His  earthly  ministry  to  '  the  lost  sheep  of  the 
house  of  Israer  (Mt  15-^).  When  He  sent  forth 
the  Twelve  on  a  preaching  tour.  He  bade  them 
observe  the  -same  limits  (Mt  10").  We  need  not 
suppose  from  this  phrase  that  the  work  of  Jesus 
embraced  only  the  outcasts  of  Israel.  'The  lost 
sheep  of  the  house  of  Israel '  describes  the  nation 
us  a  whole  [grammatically  the  words  '  of  the  house 
of  Israel'  {oIkov  'I.)  are  best  taken  as  a  defining 
genitive,  i.e.  '  the  lost  sheep  who  are  the  house  of 
Israel'].  The  very  sight  of  a  Galilsean  crowd 
touched  the  heart  of  Jesus,  for  they  were  like 
worried  and  scattered  sheep  that  have  no  shepherd 
(Mt  f\  Mk  6^'').  In  the  eyes  of  Jesus,  the  spiritual 
condition  of  His  couiilryiucii  a^n-i-d  with  the  de- 
scription of  the  slie]ilHi',IIr>,  |,..(.|,1(>  given  in  Ezk 
34.  More  particularly  Hir  .l.ws  needed  guidance 
in  their  national  and  reli-i'uis  u^|iirations.  They 
had  mistaken  alike  tlie  cliaracter  of  the  coming- 
Messiah  and  the  nature  of  the  coming  kingdom. 
The  hope  to  re-establish  by  force  the  throne  of 
David  made  the  people  the  helpless  victims  of 
political  agitators  like  Judas  the  Gaulonite  (Ac 
5^'),  and  led  at  length  to  the  chastisement  inflicted 
on  the  nation  by  the  Koman  power. 

The  exact  interpretation  of  Jn  10  is  exceedingly 
difficult,  but  it  may  in  part  be  understood,  in  rela- 
tion to  this  view  given  in  Matthew  and  Mark,  of 
the  nation  as  a  shepherdless  flock.  Jesus  speaks  of 
Himself  as  the  door  of  the  sheep,  through  which  if 
a  man  enters,  he  shall  be  saved  (vv.'- ").  The  only 
hope  of  salvation  for  the  Jews  lay  in  their  realizing, 
through  the  teaching  of  Jesus,  that  God's  kingdom 
was  not  of  this  world.  Those  who  offered  them- 
selves as  leaders  before  Christ,  and  who  proposed 
to  subdue  Rome  by  arms,  were  thieves  and  robbers 
who  came  only  to  steal  and  destroy  (vv.*- ").  The 
best  comment  on  these  thieves  and  robbers,  and 
their  treatment  of  those  heljjless  sheep,  the  house 
of  Israel,  is  perhaps  Josephus'  account  of  the  Judas 
above  mentioned — 

'There  was  one  Judas  a  Gaulonite,  .  .  .  who,  taking  with  him 
Sadduc,  a  Pharisee,  became  zealous  to  draw  (the  people)  to  a 


nation  to  assert  their  liberty ;  as  if  they  could  procure  them 
happiness  and  security  for  what  they  possessed,  and  an  assured 
enjoyment  of  a  still  greater  good,  which  was  that  of  the  honour 
and  glory  they  would  thereby  acquire  for  magnanimity.  .  .  . 
All  sorts  of  misfortunes  also  sprang  from  these  men,  and  the 
nation  was  infected  with  this  doctrine  to  an  incredible  degree  : 
one  violent  war  came  upon  us  after  another,  and  we  lost  our 
friends,  who  used  to  alleviate  our  pains;  there  were  also  very 
(treat  robberies  and  murders  of  our  principal  men.  This  was 
done  in  pretence  of  the  public  welfare,  hut  in  reality  from  the 
hopes  of  gain  to  themselves'  (,]oa.  Ant.  xviii.  i.  1). 

If  Barabbas  was  one  of  these  robbers  (cf.  Jn  18** 
with  10*),  the  fact  that  the  Jews  chose  Barabbas 
in  preference  to  the  Good  Shepherd  shows  the  be- 
wilderment of  the  popular  mind,  which  led  Jesus 
to  compare  the  house  of  Israel  to  lost  sheep.  Jesus 
further  describes  Himself  as  the  Good  Shepherd  in 
contrast  to  the  hirelings,  who  care  nothing  for  the 
sheep  (Jn  10"-  '=).  If  the  thieves  and  robbers  be- 
token ijolitical  agitators  like  r.:u;tbbas  and  Judas, 
'the  hirelings'  are  pr(jl.al.ly  the  Pharisees  and 
Sadducees,  the  shepherds  who,  in  the  words  of 
Ezekiel,  'fed  themselves  and  did  not  feed  the 
sheep. ' 

The  interpretation  here  suggested  is  not  usually 
adopted.  Godet,  for  example,  understands  the 
thieves  and  robbers  to  be  the  Pharisees.  The  M'olf 
(v.'=)  he  takes  as  a  further  symbol  of  the  same 
party,  the  hirelings  being  the  scribes  and  priests, 
whoni  cowardice    kept  from  opposing  Pharisaic 


ANIMALS 


domination.  This  latter  interpretation  fits  in  well 
■nith  the  context,  i.e.  with  ch.  9  (see  Godet,  St. 
John,  vol.  ii.  pp.  375-397). 

But  without  attempting  to  decide  questions  of 
exposition,  it  is  sutficientfor  us  to  point  out  that 
the  imagery  of  the  parable  is  true  to  life. 
■  *  A  sheep-fold  in  the  East  is  not  a  covered  buUdinjr  like  our 
stables,  but  a  mere  enclosure  surrounded  by  a  wall  or  palisade. 
The  .sheep  are  brought  into  it  in  the  evening,  several  flocks 
being  generally  assembled  within  it.  The  shepherds,  after  rom- 
mittuig  them  to  the  care  of  a  common  keeper,  a  porter,  who  is 
charged  with  their  safe  keeping  during  the  night,  retire  to  their 
homes.  In  the  morning  they  return,  and  knock  at  the  closely 
barred  door  of  the  enclosure,  which  the  porter  opens.  They 
then  separate  each  his  own  sheep,  by  calling  them  :  and  after 
having  thus  collected  their  flocks,  lead  them  to  the  pastures. 
As  to  robbers,  it  is  bv  scaling  the  wall  that  they  penetrate  into 
the  fold'  (Godet,  l.c.'\>.  378). 

The  details  are  confirmed  by  all  Eastern  travel- 
lers. Thus,  speaking  of  the  jjower  of  the  sheep  in 
distinguishing  between  the  voice  of  the  shepherd 
and  that  of  a  stranger,  Thomson  tells  us  that,  if  a 
stranger  calls,  they  stop,  lift  up  their  heads  in 
alarm  ;  and  if  the  call  is  repeated,  they  turn  and 
flee  from  him.  'This  is  not  the  fanciful  costume 
of  a  parable,  but  a  simple  fact.  I  have  made  the 
experiment  often '  ('  Central  Palestine,'  p.  594). 

Godet  cites  'the  well-known  anecdote  of  a  Scotch  traveller, 
who,  meeting  under  the  walls  of  Jerusalem  a  shepherd  bringing 
home  his  flock,  changed  garments  with  him,  and  thus  disguised 
proceeded  to  call  the  sheep.  They,  however,  remained  motion- 
less. The  true  shepherd  then  raised  his  voice,  when  they  all 
hastened  towards  him,  in  spite  of  his  strange  garments  '  (I.e. 
p.  3S2). 

All  the  sheep  distinguish  the  voice  of  a  shepherd 
from  that  of  a  stranger :  a  shepherd's  own  sheep 
distinguish  his  voice  from  that  of  any  other  shep- 
herd (v.=).  The  practice  of  naming  sheep  {(paveT 
kolt'  BvofM,  v.')  is  common  in  the  East.  The  picture 
of  the  shepherd  thrusting  his  sheep  out  of  the  en- 
closure (^KjSdXa  v.-*,  implies  the  use  of  a  certain 
amount  of  force)  and  then  placing  himself  at  the 
head  of  the  flock,  is  likewise  a  simjile  fact,  and  not 
fanciful  imagery. 

Though  the  historical  application  of  the  parable 
in  Jn  10  is  not  easy  to  determine,  yet  it  is  clear 
that  the  chapter  deals  with  the  relation  of  Christ 
to  the  Church  and  to  the  individual  Christian,  and 
it  is  unnecessary  to  draw  out  in  detail  the  lessons 
that  follow  from  the  fact  that  Christ  is  for  us  the 
door  of  the  sheep  and  the  Good  Shepherd.  It  is, 
however,  important  to  notice  that  in  Jn  10  our 
Lord  speaks  of  the  Jewish  nation  as  a  whole  and 
of  His  disciples  alike  as  sheep  ('  his  own  sheep,'  i.e. 
the  disciples,  are  distinguished  from  the  otlier 
flocks  in  the  fold,  i.e.  the  Jewish  people),  and  that 
He  compares  His  mission  towards  both  to  the 
work  of  a  shepherd.  These  ideas  are  common  to 
St.  John  and  tlie  Synoptists,  and  the  pastoral 
imagery  we  are  considering  links  the  Fourth 
Gospel  to  the  other  three. 

(i)  We  have  seen  that  in  the  S3'noptics  our  Lord 
spoke  of  the  people  as  lost  sheep.  But  though  the 
Matthaean  phrase  '  the  lost  sheep  of  the  house  of 
Israel '  applies  to  the  nation  as  a  whole,  the  parable 
of  the  Lost  .Sheep  in  Mt  18'-'-  is  a  defence  of 
Christ's  view  of  diiklren,  and  in  Lk  IS^""  (where 
alone  in  Luke  the  word  irpSiiaTot'  is  used)  a  similar 


the  shepherd  :  they  would  otherwise  leave  the 
stray  into  the  corn-fields, 
follow  the  shepherd  closelj'. 


])asture  lands  and  stray  into  the  corn-fields. 
Naturally  some  sheep  follow  the  shepherd  closelj', 
while  others  straggle  and  have  to  be  recalled  to 


ticisni  of  the 
hI  our  Lord's 
II  a  .sense  all 
I  \ery  special 
se  social  out- 
i  than  sheep 


parable  for 
Pharisees,  wlm  imi 
eating  with  piilili.  u 
the  Jews  were-  liUr 
sense  the  coinpari-. 
casts.     '  No  animal 

that  have  strayed  from  the  flock  :  they  become 
utterly  bewildered,  for  sheep  are  singularly  desti- 
tute of  the  bump  of  locality.  They  have  to  be 
brought  back '  (Thomson).  'The  figure  of  the  lost 
sheep  illustrates  to  some  extent  the  character  of 
the  publicans  and  sinners.  In  the  East,  says 
Thomson,  the  sheep  have  to  be  taught  to  follow 


the  path  by  means  of  the  crook.  So  a  lost  and 
wandering  sheep  is  an  ill-trained  and  troublesome 
one.  But  the  main  point  of  the  parable  is  the 
action  of  the  shepherd,  who  would  regard  it  as 
part  of  his  ordinary  duty  to  seek  the  lost.  Though 
.Fesus  does  not  call  Him.self  the  Good  Shepherd  in 
1  the  Synoptics,  yet  the  parable  recorded  in  Mt.  and 
Lk.  shows  us  how  naturally  Ho  came  to  compare 
His  ministry  to  the  work  of  a  shepherd,  and  how 
He  used  the  comparison  to  justify  His  friendly 
attitude  to  publicans  and  sinners.  According  to 
Mt  12'"-,  our  Lord  also  adduced  an  owner's  care  for 
a  single  sheep  as  a  defence  of  His  healing  a  man 
with  a  withered  hand  on  the  Sabbath-day. 

((')  If  the  weakness  and  the  helplessness  of  sheep 
supplied  Jesus  with  similes  whereby  to  describe 
the  Jewish  people  as  a  whole,  the  purity  symbol- 
ized by  their  wliite  wool,  their  harmlessness  and 
patience,  led  Him  to  speak  of  His  own  disciples  in 
similar  terms.  The  disciples  are  sent  forth  as 
sheep  (or  as  lambs)  into  the  midst  of  wolves  (Mt 
10'»,  Lk  10^ ;  Clem.  Kom.  Ep.  ii.  5).  Christians  are 
to  be  ready  even  to  sufl'er  death  without  resist- 
ance, so  at  least  the  epistle  attributed  to  Clement 
interprets  the  saying  (see  above  under  '  lamb '). 

{(/)  In  the  Synoptics  the  few  other  passages 
where  the  disciples  are  described  as  sheep  throw 
little  light  on  the  subject.  In  Mt  25  the  righteous 
and  the  wicked  are  contrasted  as  sheep  and  goats  ; 
but,  as  has  already  been  pointed  out,  the  character 
of  the  animals  concerned  has  little  to  do  with  the 
comparison.  The  words  '  I  will  smite  the  shep- 
herd, and  the  sheep  shall  be  scattered'  (quoted 
from  Zee  13'  in  Mt  26^',  jNIk  14'^),  serve  only  to 
sliow  that  the  death  of  Christ  would  place  the  dis- 
ciples in  the  same  leaderless  bewilderment  which, 
in  the  eyes  of  our  Lord,  marked  the  nation  as  a 
whole.  But  in  a  somewhat  dift'erent  connexion 
(Lk  12^=)  our  Lord  spoke  of  His  disciples  as  a  little 
flock.  After  bidding  them  forego  anxiety  about 
earthly  goods  and  seek  the  kingdom,  our  Lord 
adds,  '  Fear  not,  little  flock  :  for  it  is  your  Father's 
good  pleasure  to  give  you  the  kingdom.'  The  re- 
assuring words  were  needed,  no  doubt,  because  the 
disciples  were  but  a  little  feeble  band.  But  surely 
the  little  flock  implies  something  as  to  character 
as  well  as  number.  It  is  the  duty  of  the  shepherd 
!it  all  times  to  find  suitable  pasture,  and  in  the 
autumn  and  winter  he  has  to  provide  fodder. 
Sheep  cannot  fend  for  themsehes.  Similarly  the 
disciples,  intrusting  to  God  the  care  of  their 
eartlily  interests,  wUl  appear  to  the  world  at  once 
foolish  and  ineffectual :  yet  this  little  flock  is  to 
inherit  the  kingdom.  God  chooses  the  weak  things 
of  this  world  (1  Col"). 

Further  references  to  sheep  in  the  Gospels  are 
less  important.  Mt  7'*  sjjeaks  of  the  false  pro- 
])liets  w'ho  are  sheep  in  appearance  and  wolves  in 
reality,  a  saying  which  also  appears  in  Justin, 
Vial.' 35.  In  Jn  21'"-  Peter  is  bidden  to  tend 
{Toiiialveii')  Christ's  sheeii  (-n-po^aTia.,  '  lambs,'  is 
given  as  a  variant  in  A\H).  Here  we  have  in 
germ  the  pastoral  view  of  the  ministerial  office. 
See  art.  Shepherd. 

Jesus'  description  of  Himself  as  the  Good  Shep- 
herd laid  hold  from  the  first  of  the  Christian 
imagination.  In  the  N'T  Jesus  is  twice  spoken  of 
as  thuSliei>heid  (He  l:i-",  1  P  2'-^).  In  the  Cata- 
combs no  syinlMjl  of  Christ  is  more  frequent  than 
the  iiicture  of  tlie  Guud  Shepherd.  See  CHRIST  IN 
Ap.t. 

2.  Our  Lord  illustrates  His  teaching  concerning 
Goil'.s-  provahmce  by  one  or  two  sayings  about  the 
birds.     He  bids  His  disciples  '  consider  the  birds  of 


ANIMALS 


ANISE 


the  air  :  for  they  neitlier  sow  nor  reap  nor  gather 
into  barns ;  yet  your  heavenly  Father  feedeth 
them.  Are  ye  not  much  better  than  they  ? '  (Mt  6-'*). 
In  conjunction  with  this  passajie,  we  must  ex- 
amine the  rcfprein'C  to  sparrows  in  Mt  10-'-^',  Lk 
12"-.  'Are  not  I  w,,  s],:,it.,ws  snl.l  ).„■  .•,  Idrl  bin- ? 
yet  not  one  of  tlicm  ^ll.■lll  till  l..  Ilir.-mlli  wUhmil 
your  Father.  .  .  .  I'r:ii  iioi  then  ;  yr  -Mr  of  luoii- 
value  than  many  spuiiows.'  iJucliart  well  brings 
out  the  force  of  Luke's  mention  of  '  ravens '  instead 
of  '  l)irds  of  the  air,'  and  he  rightly  discerns  tlie 
bearing  of  the  reference  to  the  sparrows,  when  he 
says,  '  Express  mention  is  made  of  ra^■ens  and  spar- 
rows among  the  other  birds,  to  make  it  clear  tliat 
(lod's  providence  is  not  only  concerned  witli  birds 
in  general,  but  even  extends  to  the  most  worthless 
ana  tlie  most  despised  among  birds  :  so  that  men, 
especially  those  that  believe,  may  the  more  <• 
tainly  draw  from  this  fact  the  conclusion  that  < :  -  - 
cares  for  them,  since  He  will  not  deny  to  tlio  r 
who  worship  Him  and  call  upon  Him,  the  ciirr 
which  He  so  graciously  bestows  on  animals  of  the 
lowest  order.'  Bochart  further  dwells  on  the  harsh 
grating  voice,  the  ugly  black  colour,  and  the  awk- 
ward movements  of  the  raven,  which  make  him  a 
despicable  bird.  Concerning  the  sparrows,  Thom- 
son says  they  are  '  a  tame,  troublesome,  vivacious 
and  impertinent  generation  :  they  nestle  just 
where  they  are  not  wanted.  Their  nests  stop  up 
stove-pipes  and  water-gutters.  They  are  descroyetl 
eagerly  as  a  worthless  nuisance  '  ('Lebanon,'  etc., 
p.  59).  Jesus  then  insists  tliat  the  birds  which 
men  hold  cheap  are  not  unthought  of  by  Goil  : 
'  our  Lord  has  taught  us  that  God  providently 
caters  for  the  sparrow,  and  Himself  conducts  itis 
obsequies. ' 

By  taking  the  references  to  sparrows  and  ravens 
closely  together,  we  may  save  ourselves  from  a 
onesided  interpretation  of  Mt  6-"  which  has  found 
favour  with  many.  Thus  O.  Holtzmann  (Life  nf 
Jcs^ts,  p.  102)  says  :  '  AVith  the  drudgery  and  toil 
of  human  labour,  Jesus  contrasts  the  toilless  life 
of  nature,  in  which  God  feeds  the  raven  and  clothes 
the  lilies.'  A  parallel  saying  from  the  Talmud  is 
cited  in  Delitzsch's  Jewish  Artisan.  Life,  which 
suggests  the  same  view  of  our  Lord's  teaching. 
'Didst  thou  ever  .see  in  all  thy  life,'  says  Kabbi 
Simeon,  son  of  Eleazar,  '  a  bird  or  an  animal 
working  at  a  craft?  And  yet  tliese  ereatun-s, 
made  simply  for  the  purpose  of  serxing  me,  gain 
their  living  without  dirticulty.  But  I  am  crciUr,! 
to  serve  my  Creator  :  and  if  those  who  an-  cirainl 
to  serve  can  gain  their  livelihood  -Hitlioiii,  .lilli- 
culty,  shall  not  I,  who  am  made  to  ,si'i\r  my 
Creator,  earn  my  living  without  trouble  ■.' '  If  this 
saying  is  modelled  on  JNIt  6-'*,  then  Kabbi  Simeon 
and  O.  Holtzmann  seem  to  agree  in  interpreting  our 
Lord's  teaching  to  the  effect  that  'the  birds  are 
fed,  without  working  :  surely  we  may  expect  God 
to  feed  us  too,  witliout  our  'toil.'  Such  an  inter- 
pretation makes  iSIt  6'-'^  the  magna  charta  of  idle- 
ness. But  the  superiority  of  the  birds  does  not  lie 
in  their  not  working,  but  in  their  not  worrying. 
If  we  may  paraphrase  the  passage,  '  the  birds  do 
not  engage  in  any  methodical  toil  :  yet  they  trust 
God  for  daily  food,  and  praise  Him  for  His  care  : 
men  are  better  than  binls,  a  superiority  shown  in 

the  fact  that  ii   wnik   in    an    <inlcrly  manner: 

now,  if  God  f.r^U  \\i.-  Iiinl  .  vlii.li  I'ive  a  hap- 
hazard kind  ot  li!c,  liott  Diiirli  nioie  will  He  re- 
ward men's  patient  labour  witliont  their  needing 
to  be  anxious?'  This  section  of  the  Sermon  oii 
the  Mount  is  best  interpreted  Ijy  St.  Peter's  words, 
'  casting  all  your  care  (i.e.  "your  worries  and 
anxieties)  on  him  ;  for  he  caretii  for  you'  (I  P  5'), 
or  by  St.  Paul's  lesson  of  contentment  under  all  cir- 
cumstances (Ph  4"-").  Our  daily  wants  are  the 
care  of  God.     The  saying  about  the  sparrows  for- 


bids us  to  assume  that  daily  needs  will  be  met 
exactly  in  the  way  we  expect.  We  are  not  to 
assume  that  food  and  raiment  will  be  provided 
amply  and  at  all  times.  Privation  and  suffering 
may  fall  to  men's  lot ;  but  suffering  even  unto 
ileal  h  is  not  to  be  feared,  because  the  very  death 
111  a,  fpaniiw  is  not  forgotten  before  God. 
(iin    l,(.T<r.>^  teaching'  as  to  the  trust  in  Ood's  provirlenre, 

lip  ill  tiic  second  of  the  five  iirw  Sa\  iii-s  ren-iilh-  rliscnvered  \>v 
Grenfell  and  Hunt.  Thev  nvlnrr  tins  in-^m,,  ;,.  inl|,,„s  :  ■  .lr,iiH 
s.iith(yeask?  who  are  thi.s..)  ,h,,t  .li;,w  i,s(t,i  Uir  kiiv^.l,,,,,.  ,() 
thekinmlom  is  in  Heaven?  .  .  .  Tli.>  t.uvis  <if  ihr  an-,  imd  all 
beasts  tliat  are  under  the  eartli  nr  U].nn  Ih.-  .■riiih,  ;uHt  tin-  li.>hes 
of  the  sea  (these  are  they  wiiieh  draw)  \mii,  tm.l  \\w  kini;floni  of 
Heaven  is  within  vou ;  and  whoeiei  ^Imll  kiiMU  liiiusvif  shall 
tindit.  (Strive  therefore?)  to  kn.iw  \nnr-ir]>,s  mid  ve  shall  be 
aware  that  ve  are  the  sons  of  the  (:ilnMulit\  1  lnli.r  ;  (and?) 
>r  sliiill  know  that  ye  are  in  (the  cm  ,.l  i;.-l  i  m.l  m-  are  (the 
:!■  1.  Mir  restoration  of  the  s;iyiii-  !■  li  _  i,:  -  -  i-niral,  but 
'  li''  Iiased  in  part  on.Iuh  1  ihe  beasts 

I  :ii]I  teach  thee;  and  11m    i    ■  i;       ,  i   and  they 

-N  1,1  u  M  I  ii.r.  Or  speak  to  the  earl  II  aii'i  ii  -hill  irai;h  thee; 
ana  lii^  li-lRS  of  the  sea  shall  declare  uiilu  ih^c'  .\iul  the  con- 
i  saying  is  intended  apparentl; 
following  ver  -  •  • 
in  Job.  '  Who  knoweth  not  in  all  these  that  the  hand 
Lord  hath  wrought  this  ?  In  whose  hand  is  the  soul  of  every 
living  thing  and  the  breath  of  all  mankind '  (v.^f-).  In  effect  we 
are  taught  that  converse  with  nature  should  produce  a  calm 
trust  in  God. 

It  does  not  fall  within  the  scope  of  this  article  to 
discuss  the  wider  aspects  of  our  Lord's  attitude 
towards  Nature.  But  the  place  taken  by  animals 
in  His  teaching  bears  out  the  truth  of  tlie  follow- 
ing words  of  a  recent  writer.  '  .lesus  loved  Nature 
as  Nature  :  here  as  everywhere  He  was  in  touch 
with  the  actual.  Plenty  of  people — from  ./Esop  to 
Mrs.  Gatty — have  made  or  tlrawn  parables  from 
Nature,  but  not  like  His.  His  lost  sheep  have  no 
proverbs  :  His  lilies  may  be  dressed  more  charm- 
ingly than  Solomon,  but  they  have  not  Solomon's 
wisdom  :  and  His  sparrows  are  neither  moralists 
nor  theologians,  but  .sparrows, — two  for  a  farthing, 
sparrows  chirping  and  flying  about  and  building 
their  nests, — just  sparrows  !  But  the  least  motion 
which  they  made  seemed  a  thrill  of  pleasure.  .  .  . 
Sparrows,  lilies,  lost  sheep,  hens  and  chickens, 
midnight  stars  and  mountain  winds,  —  they  all 
entered  into  His  mind  and  heart,  and  spoke  to  Him 
of  the  character  of  God,  of  His  delight  in  beauty, 
and  His  love' (T.  R.  Glover). 

I.ijKiiATniK.— Without  attempting  to  provide  a  complete 
l>ililiiiL;raiih\ ,  it  may  be  worth  while  to  give  a  list  of  books  that 
I  he  present  writer  has  found  helpful.  Bnnhart's  Hierozoicon 
(ijil.  Kr.sniniuller)  is  encyclo|ia-dic.    Tristram's  Xatiiml  History 

i>l  the  Ilitde  in  a.  mo^t  hain\\  inainial  la  <■ jia-i    iiiil  accessible 

iiifonnation.    Eeferenc.s  i ,         :  hooks  of 

Oriental  travel:  e.i;.  Staiili  rolanson's 

JUIP  ;  and  Thomson's  /,-■  '       -i  cilition 

of  Thomson's  work  in   ::  i    N    i     .    p     .11  .   l  liough 

the  information  is  widely  scattered  and  i-  i  ;  >  n-  i  ,..'. 

to  find).    The  articles  oil  natural  history  ani  in 

animals  in  Hastings'  DB  and  the  i'dfi/c.  £i './.  i  ;  .  i 

with  advantage.    The  standard  '  Li\'es  of  .Ic^n^     I  :  i 

references  to  animals  incidentally;  Ederslunn  i^  j.,  ii  iji^  ih- 
fullest  and  most  reliable.  There  are  some  fresh,  lhon','h  not 
nlwa\s  accurate,  observations  on  the  subject  in  the  Life  of 
Jexiis  by  (.).  Holtzmann.  Of  the  many  commentaries  that  ex- 
pound the  passages  in  the  Gospels  which  concern  our  subject, 
the  jiresent  writer  has  found  vol.  i.  of  the  ExposHoi's  Greek 
Testament  ('  Synoptics '  bv  A.  B.  Bruce,  '  St.  .lohn  '  by  M.  Dods) 
most  useful.  H.  G.  WoOD. 


ANISE.-' 

and  RV  of  c 

ing'dill'isi 


plain, lint  in  Ivvi't  :i  ml  S.cllici  n  I  .,na.|i.-,  I  n  ^^  Ind. 
it  wii-  inili:.:cihin..,  ii  >-  ..llm  l-iw,.l  -,ny,iu-  ^Mi|l 
in  the  (a.rnliel.N.  it  pn-se-^^es  \  alnaMe  eariiiiri;i- 
tive  properties,  and  in  the  East  the  seeds  an;  eaten 
with  great  relish  as  a  condiment.  It  is  a  hardy 
annual  or  biennial  umbellifer,  and  grows  to  a 
height  of  one,  two,  or  even  three  feet.     The  stem 


70 


AXXA 


ANNOrXCEMENTS  OF  DEATH 


is  round,  jointed,  and  striated ;  the  leaves  are 
finely  divided ;  the  flowers,  which  are  small,  are 
yellow  ;  the  fruits  are  brown,  oval,  and  flat. 

In  ]Mt  23^  dill  is  represented  as  subject  to  tithe. 
That  is  in  strict  accord  with  the  provision  of  the 
Law  (Lv  27*",  Dt  U^-),  and  is  corroborated  by  the 
express  statement  of  the  Mishna  {3Ta'aserothiv.  5). 
See,  further,  art.  RuE  ;  and  of.  note  by  Nestle 
in  Expos.  Times,  Aug.  1904,  p.  528>'. 

Hugh  Duncan. 

ANNA  ("A^i-a,  Heb.  njn).— When  His  parents 
brought  the  infant  Jesus  to  the  temple  to  present 
Him  to  the  Lord,  two  aged  representatives  of  the 
OT  Churcli  received  Him  with  songs  of  praise, 
Simeon  and  Anna  (Lk  2-*").  Anna  was  the 
daughter  of  Phanuel,  of  the  tribe  of  Asher  (v.^*), 
which,  though  one  of  the  Ten  Tribes  of  the  Dis- 
persion, was  still  represented  in  Palestine.  From 
it  some  beautiful  women  are  said  to  have  been 
chosen  as  wives  for  the  priests  (Edersheim,  Life 
and  Times  of  Jesus  the  Messiah,  i.  p.  200).  Anna 
was  a  widow  84  years  of  age  (AV),  or  more  prob- 
ably (RV)  about  105,  as  7  years  of  married  life 
followed  by  84  years  of  widowhood  would  make 
her  to  be.  She  was  a  devout  and  saintly  woman, 
worshipping  constantly  in  the  temple,  with  fast- 
ings and  supplications,  night  and  day  :  and,  like 
Deborah  and  Huldah  of  the  OT,  she  had  prophetic 
gifts.  Her  desire,  like  the  Psalmist's  (Ps  27''),  was 
to  dwell  always  in  the  house  of  God,  though  it  is 
hardly  likely  that  a  woman  would  be  allowed 
literally  to  dwell  within  the  sacred  precincts. 
Having  entered  the  temple  at  the  same  time  as 
Jesus  was  brought  in,  she  followed  up  the  song  of 
Simeon  in  similar  strains,  and  spake  of  the  Holy 
Child  'to  all  them  that  were  looking  for  the  re- 
demption of  Jerusalem'  (v.^).  Anna  would  seem 
to  later  times  an  ideal  saint  of  the  cloister,  as  such 
stress  is  laid  on  her  virginity,  her  long  life  of 
widowhood,  and  her  ceaseless  devotions.  Possibly 
her  name  may  have  had  to  do  with  the  name 
Anna,  given  to  the  mother  of  the  Virgin  ilary,  in 
the  Protevangelium  of  James. 

David  M.  \V.  Lairo. 

ANNAS  ('Az/i/as,  Heb.  jjii,  Hanan,  Jos.  'Avavo^, 
Ananos).—Wis\\  priest  of  the  Jews  from  a.d.  6  to 
15,  and  thereafter  exercising  commanding  influ- 
ence through  his  high  priestly  rank  and  his  family 
connexions.  The  son  of  one  named  Sethi,  who  is 
otherwise  unknown,  he  was  appointed  high  priest 
by  Quirinius,  jirobably  in  A.D.  6,  and  exercised 
that  office,  which  involved  political  as  well  as  re- 
ligious headship  of  the  nation,  until  he  was  deposed 
by  the  procurator  Valerius  Gratus  in  A.D.  15  (Jos. 
Ant.  XVIII.  ii.  2).  The  duration  of  his  rule,  and 
the  fact  that  of  his  sons  no  fewer  than  five  suc- 
ceeded him  at  intervals  in  the  high  priesthootl 
('which  has  never  happened  to  any  other  of  our 
liigh  priests'),  caused  him  to  be  regarded  by  his 
contemporaries  as  a  specially  successful  man  (A»t. 
XX.  ix.  1).  On  the  other  hand,  he  incurred  in  an 
unusual  degree  the  unjiopularity  for  which  the 
high  priests  wero  jirnverbinl.  In  addition  to  their 
common  fauiN  ot  .niojanrc  and  injustice,  Annas 


was  notorious 
tunityin  tlie  i 
It  was  he,  pi ' 
of  the  sons  •> 
Temple  marU 
for  sacrifices, 
(Keim,  Jesus 


which  found  oppor 
he  Temple  worshippers. 

t.-iblislipd  ihc  'bazaars 

-,..'-.'7/,  /„■„.,    Ilr,„r,n),j, 

■    ■'!     ln:ltr'li:iN    rci|uisite 

1  1  111-    I  ciiiiil.-    pivcinct 
llt))ur  on  llie  Mount  of 


Olives  (Derenbourg),  the  profits  of  which  enriched 
the  high  priestly  family.  Beyond  this,  the  liouse 
of  Annas  is  charged  with  the  special  sin  of  'whis- 
pering' or  hissing  like  vijjers,  'which  seems  to 
refer  to  private  influence  on  the  judges,  whereby 
"morals  were  corrupted,  judgment  perverted,  and 
the  Shekinah  withdrawn    from   Israel " '  (Eders- 


heim, Life  and  Times  of  Jesus  the  Messiah,   i. 
263). 

Annas  is  referred  to  by  St.  Luke  and  by  St. 
John.  In  Lk  3-  ('  in  the  high  priesthood  of  Annas 
and  Caiapbas')  he  is  linked  with  Caiaphas,  who 
aloii.'\\;is  nimallyhigh  priest  at  the  time  (A.D.  26). 
Till'  1  \|il.in.aii'n  of  this  is  found  partly  in  the 
fact  that  thi'  <illire  having  become  to  some  extent 
till'  picriiualivr  of  a  few  families,  it  had  acquired 
some  degree  of  hereditary  and  indelible  quality, 
and  partly  in  the  unusual  personal  authority  exer- 
cised by  Annas.  The  result  was  that  even  after 
his  deposition  he  continued  to  enjoy  much  of  the 
influence,  and  even  to  receive  the  title,  of  his 
former  olfiee  (Schiirer,  HJP  II.  i.  195  H'.  ;  against 
this  Keim,  l.r.  vi.  36  ff. ;  H.  Holtzmann,  Hdeom.  ad 
Lk  3").  In  like  manner  in  Ac  4"  Annas  appears  at 
the  head  of  the  chiefs  of  the  Sanhedrin  in  its  action 
against  the  Apostles,  though  the  actual  president 
was  the  high  priest.     See  CHIEF  Priests. 

The  only  other  passage  in  which  Annas  is  re- 
ferred to  is  in  the  narrative  of  the  trial  of  Jesus 
in  the  Fourtli  Gospel  (Jn  18''=^).  The  Evangelist, 
speaking  with  technical  accuracy,  refrains  from 
calling  him  high  priest,  and  assigns  as  a  reason  for 
Jesus  being  led  before  Annas  the  relationship  be- 
tween Annas  and  Caiaphas.  The  ex-highpriest 
had  probably  been  the  chief  instigator  of  the  plot 
against  Jesus,  and  before  him  He  was  brought  not 
for  trial,  but  only  for  an  informal  and  private 
examination  (so  Schiirer,  ;.c  p.  182).  'The  Lord 
Himself  is  questioned,  but  there  is  no  mention  of 
witnesses,  no  adjuration,  no  sentence,  no  sign  of 
any  legal  process'  (Westcott,  ad  Inc.). 

C.  A.  Scott. 

ANNOUNCEMENTS  OF  DEATH.— It  is  certain 
that  we  have  words  from  Jesus  concerning  His 
death ;  for  such  ruthless  criticism  as  that  of 
Schraiedel  (Encyc.  Bibl.  'Gospels"),  who  admits 
only  nine  genuine  sayings  of  the  Master,  is  un- 
critical and  unscientific  These  words  appear  in 
the  Synoptics  as  well  as  in  the  Fourth  Gospel.  The 
genuineness  of  the  latter  is  here  assumed,  though 
there  is  a  wide  difference  in  character  between  it 
and  the  Synoptics. 

The  main  point  in  the  announcements  of  His 
death  by  Jesus  rests  on  the  time  of  their  utter- 
ance. Hence  the  chronological  groupin^of  these 
sayings  of  Jesus  must  be  followed.  If  He  spoke 
of  His  death  only  as  a  disappointed  man  after  He 
saw  the  manifest  hate  of  the  rulers,  there  would 
be  little  ground  for  claiming  Messianic  conscious- 
ness concerning  His  death  as  an  atonement  for  sin. 
And  the  heart  of  the  whole  problem  turns  on  the 
Messianic  consciousness.  When  did  He  become 
con^cioits  of  His  death?  Why  did  He  expect  a 
violent  death'  What  did  He  tliinl;  teas  to  be 
accomplished  by  His  death?  IlVrv  /fis  death  a 
voluntary  sacrifice,  oi-  merebj  a  mnHyr's  rrmon? 
These  and  similar  questions  can  lie  answered  only 
by  a  careful  and  comprehensive  survey  of  Christ  s 
own  words  uiKin  the  subject.  It  is  noteworthy 
that  Jesus  put  the  emphasis  in  His  career  on  His 
death  rather  than  on  His  incarnation.  That  is  so 
out  of  the  ordinary  as  at  once  to  challenge  atten- 
tion. Here  is  One  who  came  to  give  life  by  dying. 
That  is  in  deepest  harmony  with  nature,  out  not 
in  harmony  with  man's  view  of  his  own  life. 

1.  TIte  first  foreshadowings.—(a)  Jesus  first  ex- 
hibits knowledge  of  His  death  at  the  time  of  the 
Temptation,  immcdi.atoly  .ift^r  tlif  l^nptism  and 
the  formal  entrance  uimii  flu-  Mi-  i mir  iniiii-try. 
The  word  'death'  or  iro--  i  iml  m.nt  ioiir.l 
between  ,Iesus  and  Satan.  Imt  tlir  ii.nnt  al  issue 
wius  the  easy  or  the  hard  road  tu  ciiiif|uest  of  the 
world.  It  is  the  unexpressed  idea  in  this  struggle 
for  the  mastery  of  men.  Hence,  before  Jesus 
began  to  teach  men,  He  had  already  wrestled  with 


ANNOUNCEMENTS  OF  DEATH 


ANNOUNCEMENTS  OF  DEATH  71 


His  Messianic  destiny  and  chosen  the  path  that 
led  to  tlie  cross.  This  tone  of  high  moral  conflict 
is  never  absent  from  Jesus  till  the  end.  The 
Synoptic  Gospels  thus  give  the  first  account  of 
Clirist's  consciousness  of  His  struggle  to  the  death 
for  the  spiritual  mastery  of  men. 

(6)  Another*  occasion  for  the  mention  of  His 
death  by  our  Lord  grew  out  of  the  failure  of  Nico- 
demus  to  understand  the  new  birth  and  tlie  sjiiritual 
nature  of  the  kingdom  of  God  (Jn  3°).  If  tlie  teacher 
of  Israel  could  not  apprehend  these  aspects  of  what 
took  place  in  the  kingdom  on  earth,  now  could  he 
lay  hold  of  the  purposes  of  God  in  heaven  (v.>-) 
about  the  work  of  the  kingdom  ?  One  of  the  chief 
of  these  '  heavenly  things  is  the  necessity  of  the 
death  of  Christ  for  the  sin  of  the  world.  The 
brazen  serpent  of  the  older  history  serves  as  an 
illustration  (v."),  but  'das  gottliche  "5«"  Todes- 
schicksals'  (Schwartzkopft',  Die  Weissaqimgcn  Jesii 
Christi,  p.  20)  is  grounded  in  the  eternal  love  of 
God  for  the  world  (Jn  S'").  The  Son  of  Man  (Jn 
3")  who  '  must'  be  lifted  up  is  the  Son  of  God  (3'"). 
It  is  not  perfectly  certain  that  3'^  is  a  word  of 
Jesus  and  not  of  the  Evangelist,  but  at  any  rate 
it  is  a  correct  interpretation  of  the  preceding 
argument.  The  high  religious  necessity  for  His 
death,  of  which  Jesus  is  here  conscious,  could  come 
to  Him  by  revelation  from  the  Father  (Schwartz- 
kopft', I.e.  p.  22).  The  consciousness  of  Jesus  is 
clear,  but  He  finds  in  Nicodemus  an  inability  to 
grasp  this  great  truth.  The  word  'lifted  up' 
{v^adrjvai)  refers  to  the  cross,  as  is  made  plain 
afterwards  (Jn  8=^  JO'^').  Even  when  tlie  multi- 
tudes heard  Jesus  use  the  word  just  before  His 
death,  they  did  not  understand  it  (Jn  12"),  though 
the  Evangelist  gives  the  correct  interpretation  in 
the  light  of  the  after  history  (12=»).  In  itself  the 
word  could  refer  to  spiritual  glory  (Paulus)  or 
heavenly  glory  (Bleek),  but  not  in  view  of  the 
later  developments.  So  then  the  cross  is  con- 
sciously before  Jesus  from  the  very  beginning  of 
His  ministry. 

(c)  It  is  possibly  nearly  a  year  before  we  have 
the  ne.xt  allusion  by  the  Master  to  His  death. 
Again  in  parabolic  phrase  Jesus  calls  Himself  the 
bridegroom  who  will  be  taken  away  from  the 
disciples  (Mk  2-",  Mt  9'^,  Lk  5^^^).  The  Pharisees 
from  Jerusalem  (Lk  5")  are  now  in  Galilee  watch- 
ing the  movements  of  Jesus,  so  as  to  gain  a  case 
against  Him.  On  this  occasion  they  are  finding 
fault  because  the  disciples  of  Jesus  do  not  oli- 
serve  stated  seasons  of  fasting.  The  answer  of 
Jesus  is  luminous  in  marking  off  the  wide  differ- 
ence in  spirit  between  a  ceremonial  system  like 
Judaism  and  a  vital  personal  spiritual  religion  like 
Christianity.  There  is  a  time  to  fast,  but  it  is  a 
time  of  real,  not  perfunctory,  sorrow.  Such  a 
time  will  come  to  the  disciples  of  Jesus  when  He 
is  taken  away.  By  itself  this  reference  might 
allude  merely  to  the  death  that  would  come  to 
Christ  as  to  other  men,  but  the  numerous  other 
clear  passages  of  a  dift'erent  nature  preclude  that 
idea  here.  Gould  is  right  (Internat.  Crit.  Com. 
on  Mk  2=")  in  saying  that  'even  as  a  premonition 
it  is  not  premature,'  though  there  is  more  in  it 
than  this,  for  Jesus  understood  the  significance  of 
His  death.  Soon  the  historical  developments  con- 
firm the  prejudgment  of  Jesus,  for  the  enmity  of 
the  historical  conspiracy  grows  apace.  At  the 
next  feast  at  which  Jesus  appears  in  Jerusalem 
(Jn  5')  the  rulers  make  a  definite  attempt  to  kill 
Him  as  a  Sabbath-breaker  and  blasphemer,  also 
for  claiming  equality  with  God  the  Father  (Jn 
5'").     This  decision  to  kill  Jesus  soon  reappears  in 

•  Jn  229  and  Mt  1239  are  passed  over  because  of  doubts  (not 

shared  by  the  present  writer)  as  to  their  interpretation  or 

strong  enough  witliout  these  dis- 


"-r^r 


fialilee  (Mk  3<''),  and   often   in  Jerusalem  during 
the  closing  si.\  months  of  the  ministry. 

((/)  The  use  of  the  cross  as  a  metaphor,  as  in  Mt 
10^8  (see  also  Mk8=^,  Mt  16=^,  Lk  14='),  would  not  of 
itself  constitute  an  allusion  to  the  death  of  Jesus, 
since  death  on  the  cross  was  so  common  at  this 
time.  But  in  the  light  of  the  many  allusions  by 
Jesus  Himself  to  His  death,  the  background  of 
the  metaphor  would  seem  to  be  personal,  and  so 
to  imply  His  own  actual  cross.  He  is  Himself  the 
supreme  example  of  .saving  life  by  losing  it.  Meyer, 
in  loco,  considers  that  this  verse  was  transfeiTed 
from  the  later  period  ;  but  this  is  unnecessary  ;  for 
it  is  eminently  pertinent  that  in  the  directions  to 
the  Twelve,  who  are  now  sent  out  on  their  first 
mission,  they  should  be  urged  to  self-sacrifice  by 
the  figure  of  His  own  death  on  the  crass.  In  this 
same  address  occurs  an  apocalyptic  saying  that  pre- 
supposes the  death  of  Christ  (Mt  10^).  It  is  not 
an  anachronism  (J.  Weiss)  to  find  self-sacrifice  and 
self-realization  in  the  words  of  Jesus  about  losing 
life  and  finding  it  (Mt  10^"),  for  Jesus  Himself 
gives  the  historical  background  of  this  image  in 
the  sublime  justification  of  His  own  death  in  His 
resurrection  ( Jn  12=-'). 

■         ■  (Jne, 

the  Galilean  populace 
in  the  synagogue  at  Capernaum.  He  explains 
that  He  is  the  bread  of  heaven,  the  true  manna, 
the  spiritual  Messiah.  It  is  the  climax  of  the 
Galilsean  ministry,  for  but  yesterday  they  had  tried 
to  make  Him  king  (v.^^).  To-day  ^^esus  tests  their 
enthusiasm  by  the  supreme  revelation  of  His  gift 
of  Himself  '  for  the  life  of  the  world  '  (v.'''),  a  clear 
allusion  to  His  atoning  death  on  the  cross.  Thus 
will  it  be  ])Ossible  for  men  to  make  spiritual  appro- 
priation ot  Christ  as  the  living  bread.  The  people 
and  many  of  the  so-called  disciples  fall  back  at 
this  saying  (v.'^'^),  and  thus  justify  the  wisdom  of 
Jesus  in  having  said  no  more  a-s  yet  concerning 
His  death,  and  life  by  His  death.  For  at  the  first 
dim  apprehension  of  this  basal  truth  the  people 
left  Him.  But  it  was  time  for  the  truth  to  be  told 
to  the  flippant  multitudes.  Here  Jesus  reveals 
His  consciousness  of  the  character  and  work  of 
Judas  as  the  betrayer,  a  very  devil  (Jn  O"").  The 
bald  truth  of  the  betrayal  is  not  at  this  point  told 
to  the  Twelve,  for  John's  comment  is  made  after- 
wards ;  but  Jesus  expressly  says  tiiat  one  of  them 
is  a  devil.  Jesus  clearly  knows  more  than  He 
tells.  There  is  this  bitterness  in  His  cup  at  the 
very  time  that  the  people  desert  Him.  The 
shadow  of  the  cross  is  growing  closer  and  darker, 
but  Christ  will  go  on  to  meet  His  hour. 

2.  The  defnite  cmnomicemenis.  —  (n)  The  new 
departure  at  Ca?sarea  Philippi.  Just  after  the 
renewed  confession  by  Peter  that  Jesus  is  the 
Messiah,  St.  Matthew  says  that  'from  that  time 
began  Jesus  to  show  unto  his  disciples  how  that 
he  mu.st  go  unto  Jerusalem,  and  suffer  many 
things  of  tlie  elders  and  chief  priests  and  scribes, 
and  be  killed,  and  the  third  day  be  raised  up' 
(Mt  16-1).  St.  Mark  (S^i)  also  says  that '  he  began 
to  teach  them.'  Clearly,  then,  this  was  an  epoch 
in  the  teaching  of  Jesus  concerning  His  death. 
When  He  withdrew  from  Galilee  this  last  summer, 
he  devoted  Himself  chiefly  to  the  disciples,  and 
especially  to  preparing  them  for  His  departure. 
The  specific  teaching  concerning Jl is  death  follows, 
therefore,  the  searching  test  of  their  fidelity  to 
Him  as  the  Messiah.  This  is  not  a  new  idea  to 
Jesus,  as  we  have  alreaily  seen.  It  has  been  the 
keynote  of  His  mission  all  the  time,  but  He  had 
to  speak  of  it  in  veiled  and  restrained  lan"uage 
till  now,  when  'he  spake  the  saying  ojienly^  (Mk 
8^-).  Now  Jesus  tol(l  the  details  of  His  death,  the 
place  and  the  persecutors.  Hi>  re|ieats  the  neces- 
sity (od)  of  His  death  as  He  had  proclaimed  it  iu 


ANNOUNCEMENTS  OF  DEATH 


ANNOUNCEMENTS  OF  DEATH 


are  still  unprepared  for  tliis 
r  cMii  (lares  to  rebuke  Jesiis 


Jn  3".  The  dis 
plain  tnitli,  ami 
forsucli  .l.-iinii.lrnry  iMt  ir,  ■).  The  sharp  rebuke 
of  Pt'trr  l.y  .Ic-ii^  i\.  I  sliiiws  iiow  strong  a  hold 
the  piir|Hi--('' 1o  .li'  li:iJ  ni;  His  \eiy  nature.  Peter 
had  nil  I  i  r  ink  of  Satan'  in  the  Tempta- 
tion. I  II'  1 I-  i.rord  the  dulness  of  the  dis- 
ciples, I  >  111-  tlie  late  invention  of  these 
sayin;^s  ,,1 1 1  iKun  .1  1..  .Tesns.  The  principle  of 
self -giving  is  a  basal  one  for  Jesus  and  for  all 
His  followers  (Lk  9^--^).  The  disciples  could  not 
yet,  any  more  than  Nicodemus,  grasp  the  moral 
necessitiy  of  the  death  of  Jesus.  They  recoiled  at 
the  bare  fact. 

{b)  On  the  Mount  of  Transfiguration  a  week 
later,  somewhere  on  the  sjmrs  of  Hermon,  Peter, 
James,  and  Jolin  get  a  fresh  word  from  Jesus 
about  His  death  (Mk  9').  It  is  not  necessary  to 
suppose  that  they  understood  or  even  heard  the 
conversation  of  Jesus  witli  Moses  and  Elijah 
about  '  his  decease  which  he  was  about  to 
accomplish  at  Jerusalem'  (Lk  9").  Most  likely 
they  did  not,  if  Peter's  remarks  are  a  criterion 
(Lk  9'-'-).  There  is  a  fitness  l)oth  from  the  manner 
of  the  deaths  of  Moses  and  Elijah,  and  from  their 
respective  positions  in  law  and  prophecy,  that  tlu^sc 
two  should  talk  with  Jesus  about  His  atoning  ami 
predicted  sacrificial  death.  This  exalted  scene  lifts 
the  curtain  a  little  for  us,  so  that  we  catch  some 
glimpse  of  the  consciousness  of  Jesus  concerning 
His  death,  as  He  held  high  converse  with  Moses 
and  Elijah.  But  the  remark  of  Jesus  (Mt  17')  was 
a  caution  to  the  three  disciples  to  keep  to  them- 
selves what  they  had  seen  till  His  resurrection, 
when  they  would  need  it.  But  the  lesson  of 
strength  was  lost  on  them  for  the  present.  Even 
the  cliosen  three  questioned  helplessly  Avith  each 
other  about  the  rising  from  the  dead  (Mk  9'"). 
They  could  not  understand  a  dying  Messiah 
now  or  later  till  the  riseu  Christ  had  matle  it 
clear. 

(t)  In  Galilee  Jesus  renewed  His  earnest  words 
about  the  certainty  of  His  death  (Mk  S^\  Mt  17-'-'-, 
Lk  9"^).  He  concealed  His  presence  in  Galilee  as 
far  as  possible  (Mk  O""),  but  He  was  very  insistent 
in  urging,  '  Let  these  words  sink  into  your  ears : 
for  the  Son  of  Man  shall  be  delivered  up  into  the 
hands  of  men  '  (Lk  9**).  But  it  was  to  no  purpose, 
for  they  understood  it  not  (Mk  9^-).  St.  Luke 
(9''^),  in  fact,  says  that  it  was  concealed  from  them, 
thus  raising  a  problem  of  God's  purjiose  and  their 
responsibility.  They  were  sorry  (Mt  17"^),  but 
afraid  to  ask  Jesus  (Lk  9^^).  Hence  Jesus  has  not 
yet  succeeded  in  making  the  disciples  understand 
His  purpose  to  die  for  men.  So  then  He  will  have 
no  human  .sympathy,  and  will  have  to  tread  the 
path  to  Calvary  alone. 

(d)  At  the  feast  of  Tabernacles,  or  a  few  days 
afterwards,  just  six  months  before  the  end,  in  tile 
ini(l-i  iti  I  III'  liostile  atmosphere  of  Jeru.salem,  Jesus 
I  i(i|ili  r  i  r  \Au:  voluntary  character  of  His  death 
lui  111. -hi-.iiiJnlO'S).  He  does  this  to  distinguish 
littuutu  Himself  and  the  Pharisees,  wlu.  hnvi-  1..-,.,, 
vehemently  attacking  Him.  Thry  .-nc  ir.Mwrs 
wolves,  and  hirelings,  while  .li-^ii--  i^  ihr  <;.h,iI 
Shepherd.     He  is  not  merely  cmiuIiI    m  i  Ih m.irl 

Strom  of  historic  forces,  nor  is  Ilr  1  h.  \  h  '  im  ^t  1 

and  circumstance,  for  He  has  vulinii  n  il\  |.iii   1 1  m 
self  into  the  vortex  of  sin  (Jn  In  I    ^    I     '!.' 

has  given  tlie  Son  the  power  or  li'jlii  i-  1  n-  li\ 

downaiiilliitakiMii.TTisliri..-i,t;;iiii.  Ii  vn.  1  '  .  mn 
niandniriit  ■  fii.iii  llic  I'litlier,  l-nt  m.l  I"  iIm'  i-x 
elusion  III  til,.  Mi|iu,l:,ry  lialnln.f  III-  ,lr;,lh  ;  |„  I 
as  the  ni-ii-s~ily  III  lii^  ile.'il  li  \\.-isan  iiiwiinl  iiiri.- 
sity  of  love,  not  an  outward  ciiminilsion  of  law. 
It  is  in  the  realm  of  spirit  that  we  find  the  true 
value  of  the  death  of  Jesus  for  our  sins  (He  9'-'), 
and  the  moral  grandeur  of  it  is  seen  in  the  fact  I 


that  He  made  a  voluntary  ofi'ering  of  His  life  for 
those  who  hated  Him  (Ro  5'). 

(c)  As  the  time  draws  nearer,  Jesus  even  mani- 
fests eagerness  to  meet  His  death  (Lk  1'2^"'-).  It  is 
only  some  three  months  till  the  end.  However  we 
take  Ti,  whether  as  interrogative  or  exclamation, 
we  see  clearly  the  mingled  eagerness  and  dread 
with  which  Jesus  contemplated  His  death.  It  is 
a  fire  that  will  burn,  but  also  attracts.  He  had 
come  just  for  this  purpose,  to  make  this  fire. 
It  will  be  a  relief  when  it  is  kindled.  It  is  a 
baptism  of  death  that  presses  as  a  Divine  com- 
pulsion ujion  Him,  like  the  'must'  of  the  earlier 
time  (Jn  3",  Mk  8").  Here  we  feel  the  inward 
glow  of  the  heart  of  Christ  as  it  bursts  out  for  a 
moment  like  a  flame  from  the  crater,  unable  to  be 
longer  restrained.  So  Jesus  had  a  double  point  of 
view  about  His  death,  one  of  joy  and  one  of  shrink- 
ing, but  He  did  not  go  now  one  way  and  now  the 
other.  He  will  pursue  His  way  steadily,  and  as 
the  time  draws  nigh,  His  view  of  His  death  will 
amount  to  rapture  (Jn  17''  ^^).  But  Jesus  was 
never  more  conscious  and  sane  than  when  He 
spoke  thus  about  His  death.  It  was,  in  fact.  His 
inner  self  speaking  out.  He  thus  gave  us  not  only 
a  new  \  iew  of  His  own  death,  but  a  new  view  of 
death  itself. 

(/)  Jesus  even  tells  His  enemies  that  He  expects 
to  be  put  to  death  in  Jerusalem  (Lk  13'-').  They 
were  posing  as  His  friends,  but  were  either  repre- 
sentatives of  Herod  Antipas  or  of  the  Jerusalem 
Pharisees.  Jesus  assertetl  His  independence  of 
'  that  fox '  and  of  them,  but  announced  the  inward 
necessity  ('I  must')  that  He  should  ultimately  at 
the  right  time  meet  the  fate  of  other  prophets  in 
JeiTisalem.  His  lament  over  Jerusalem  reveals 
the  depth  of  His  love  for  that  city,  and  demands  a 
Judoean  ministry  such  as  that  described  by  John. 

ig)  It  is  not  till  the  death  of  Lazarus  that  the 
disciples  realize  that  Jesus  may  be  put  to  death 
(Jn  11^);  and  then  as  a  dread  growing  out  of  the 
last  attemjit  of  the  Jews  to  kill  Him  at  the  feast 
of  Dedication  (ICF).  Thomas  has  the  courage  of 
de-spair  (11'")  in  the  gloomy  situation,  but  Jesus 
speaks  of  His  own  glorification  (U-*- '"').  One  item 
in  this  glorification  was  the  formal  decision  of  the 
Sanhedrin  to  put  Jesus  to  death  (IP^).  AVith  this 
formal  decision  resting  over  Him,  Jesus  withdrew 
to  the  hills  of  Epliraim,  near  where  in  the  begin- 
ning He  had  refused  Satan's  offer  of  a  comjiromise, 
and  had  chosen  His  own  way  and  the  I'ather's. 
Had  He  made  a  mistake? 

3.  Facing  the  end.— {a)  The  relation  between  the 
death  of  Christ  and  the  consummation  of  the  king- 
dom. It  is  in  the  last  journey  to  Jerusalem  that 
the  Pharisees  ask  when  the  kingdom  of  God  comes 
(Lk  17™).  They  are  thinking  of  the  apocalyptic 
conception  cuiTent  in  their  literature.  There  are 
two  difficulties  thus  raised.  One  is  their  utter 
failure  to  understand  the  nature  of  the  kingdom, 
for  it  is  inner  and  spiritual,  not  external  (the  Papyri 
show  that  ivrds  means  'within,'  not  'among  ).* 
But,  tlumgh  the  kingdom  had  already  come  in  this 
I  III-,  I  here  would  be  in  the  end  a  fuller  and  com- 
I'l  I.  1  II  alization  of  the  work  of  the  kingdom.     It 

11!  I  111-  -ense  that  Jesus  addresses  the  disciples 
111   II.  1:   ,     The  <l.-ivwhen  the  Son  of  Man  shall 

■'■  I.  >.:il.l  (1.1,  IT^^'i  nmII   I-  tl nd,     'But  first 

I   ! iiMir  iiiiiiiN  iliiiij-,,iihl  lie  rejected  of  this 

:      I'll         rim-  .1.  -11-  -'I  111  ill  h-  His  own  death 

II    II.      I.M.il   ^\:r:r,.l    I  In     \  I  .   -.  -  l,  il ,  Ir   M  ,  ,1  k  i  .Tl  earth. 

'llM    I  I  In  I    uillh  nil  \    I-     1,11-1  .1    n;,    I  li.     ill  -'  ijiles,  and 

ri.liri'lli-      111.'      |.|;irr      \',  I  H  '  I  i '      (Ih       S.iu      M|||      manifest 

lliiii-.li   li.k    17    1.      Ill'   \mII   I  ...III'  \',  li.'ii   (Ill-re  are 
r.iiiie  for. 

the  word  'crucify'  before  He 
Jericho  on  this  last  journey  to  Jerusalem 
CI.,  however,  Expos.  Times,  xv.  (1904],  387. 


eojile  for  liim 
(4)  .fesus 


ANNOUNCEMEXTS  OF  DEATH 


ANXOUNCEMENTS  OF  DEATH 


•rmts  ■ 


(Mt  eoi^'i.    f; 

event"'"  •!■■>'  '•-  ' .'  ii'n- 

becuu.. -    -Iv  u 

befoiv  lli^.K:i;ii  ,^->-.-il-.. 

partioulall/.rs     l.elulrlLlllJ 

the  iiKjfkiiig,  scoiugiiiL:.  > 
Gentiles  (tliese  all  now  m.^ 
Mk  10=^'-,  Mt20'»,  Lk  is  - 

lirst    lillH'    alM,J,.M.Srl:,il 

in  fulliln.riit  <.f  tl..'  |.i,i|,l 
the  Snn  .,1    Al.M,  I  1,1.    Is^ 


Iml.  Ihu  .M;i-Ut 
l.'lHil.-,  Mirh  ;iN 
.liveiing  to  the 
II  the  first  time, 
li.'s,  now  for  the 
IS  death  -will  be 


I  lev  Mt  21-'-',  Jn 
is  not,  however, 


13",  Mk  It-,  J.k  ■_■-■■_•)•. 
playinj;  a  part  just  to  tnllil  tlie  Sn  i|ilure,  Imt  He 
.sees  this  olijeetive  confirmation  of  thi-  iniii'r  vilni'ss 
of  His  spirit  to  the  Father's  i\ill  cmreniin-  His 
death.  Besides,  on  this  oeoasioii  .Irsiis  IkhI  ni.-idc 
a  .sijecial  point  i>f  talkiir.;-  ;i limit  1 1  is  (■.miiiiL;  ilnil  h, 
takinK  the  Tw.-lv,.  ni.nrt  |Mt  L'li'-'i.  mid  cxiilniiiiii- 
that  He  does  s.,  now  \»-v:m~n  tliry  ,-,rr  iiciir  .I.tii- 
salem.  There  Avnsan  nini>ual  louk  on  the  Masters 
face,  so  much  so  th.at  the  disciples  were  amazed  and 
afraid  (Mk  10'-).  But  Avith  all  this  pain,  they  were 
liopelessly  dull  on  this  subject  (Lk  18^'). 

(c)  There  is  strange  pathos  in  the  next  occasion 
Jesus  had  for  speaking  concerning  His  death. 
James  and  John  and  their  mother  (Mt  20=",  Mk 
10**)  seem  hardly  able  to  wait  for  the  Master  to 
cease  telling  about  His  death  before  they  come  and 
ask  for  the  chief  positions  in  the  temporal  kingdom 
for  which  they^  are  still  looking.  It  was  a  shock 
to  Jesus.  Waiving  their  ignorance.  He  asked  if 
they  could  drink  His  cup  of  death  and  take  His 
baptism  of  blood  (Jit  20--,  INlk  10-').  They  actuall,\' 
.said  that  they  were  able.  And  James  was  the  lirsl 
of  the  Twelve  to  die  a  martyr's  death,  and  John 
the  last ;  for.J(>ns  had  said  that  they  woidd  have 
His  cup  and  lia|il  i-iii  (  Ml^  In"''). 

(d)  It  was  <jii  ilir  same  occa.sion,  as  Jesus  pro- 


ceeded to  gi\( 
gi'eatness  ami 
He  set  forth  ii 
(Mt20=«,Mk; 


needed  lesson  in  true 
lenity  of  service,  that 
11^  inirpose  of  His  death 
usus  had  the  right  to 


tell  the  purjjosc  (if  His  \ ulmitary  deatli.  AiVpoi' is 
obviously  'ransom,'  but  it  need  not  be  said  that 
this  word  exhausts  all  the  content  in  the  death  of 
Christ.  Jesus  Himself  elsewhere  sjioke  of  the 
vital  connexion  between  Himself  .and  thc\  believer 
(Jn  lo'f-).  This  view  <if  I  lie  redemplive  death  „l 
Christ  is  further  emphasized  liv  ihe  svnil.ul  ,,i 
Baptism  and  also  of  the  .Siipi.er,  m  Im.iIi  of  \\  hieh 
the  vital  aspect  of  mystic  union  i ,  e\|iie,s(.d.  'Arn 
is  here  u.sed  to  express  the  idea  of  siil.-l  il  iition, 
though  i;?r^p  is  more  common  in  lliis  sense  in  the 
NT  (Jn  1P»)  and  in  the  earlier  Cierk  il/.-  v//v,  for 
instance).  It  is  a  ransom  instej.l  ..i  many 
A  distinction  needs  to  be  made  betu' '  ml     I'm 

Clirist  as  a  basis  for  reconciliation  aa  i  .   

reeonciliation  in  the  individual  caw  ii      n     ii ~|ieii  -  ^..i; 

in  tlie  heart.  The  doctrine  of  the  subsiiiia.uaj!;,  aL^nai- 'iL.tLh 
of  Jesus,  with  vital  and  mystic  union  of  tlie  l'r-lif'\er  ^^'ith  Him, 
is  not  a  rabbinic  and  legal  refinement  of  .St.  Paul.  He  simply 
echoes  the  words  of  the  Master  more  at  leng-th,  while  true  to 
the  heart  of  the  matter. 


(c)  The  request  of  tlie  O 
week  brought  forth  one  of 


uring  the  last 
I'est  words  of 
His  death  (Jn 
sophy  of  grace 


Jesus  concerning  the  ini  e,- 
12=3-"-5).     Hegive-s,  in  faet.  1 

about  His  death,  whieh  m,  in  tinth,  iiie  same  a> 
the  law  of  nature.  Il  i-  ilie  law  ol  ,-ell  ei\inu. 
Thusthe  wheat  erowm  .-ual  iIhismiII  ,I,.-ii.,  oMal. 
lish  the  kingdum.  l!y  His  dealli  the  middle  wa  I 
of  partition  between  Jew  and  Gentile,  and  betweei 
both  and  God,  will  be  broken  down  (Eph  2""'*). 
The  agitation  of  Jesus  on  this  occasion  is  sur 
passed  only  by  that  in  the  Garden  of  Gethsemane 
and  the  ea'iise'is  Hie  same.  In  faeiii;.:  1 1  is  deal  h  Hi 
shrinks  from  il,  imt  iiislanlly  Milmuls  lo  lie 
Father  (.In  iLi-''').  and  is  eoinl.nii'd  l.y  li.e  I'alliei' 
voice.     To  the  multitude  Jcsu,.   huljly  aiiuuuuec- 


that  His  liftin.LT  up  (on  llie  crossf  will  be  the  means 
of  drawin-  all  men  |(  oail  lie  as  nm.jI  as  Jew)  to  Him 
i\.''-i.      And  it  lia,   l.e.n  .o.     .le-us  gloried  in  His 
o«  11  eiiiss  as  the  means  ol  ^-a^■ln^  (lie  lost  world. 
(,/')   111  (lie  lanions  eoiiiro\ii,y  wiOi  tlie  Jewish 

rulels     ill     llie     leliiple    on     (lie     la~!      'i'lle^clav,    JeSUS 

id.aililied     llim>eli    as    lli,.    lejcried    Si '■   in    the 

Me.ssiauie.  pi.iplieey  ill  I 's  ils-',  and  jiionounced 
comlemnatiun  on  lliuse  who  cullided  with  the  re- 
jected .Stone  (Mt  21'^).  At  every  turn  during 
these  last  days  the  death  of  Jesus  is  in  the  back- 
ground of  His  words  and  deeds  ;  especially  is  this 
true  of  the  great  eschatological  discourse  (Mt  24  f.), 
as  w  all  ,as  of  the  third  lament  over  Jerusalem  (Mt 
2:i  ■  ■'),  and  the  previous  defiance  of  His  enemies 
(.Mt  ■_■:;-). 

(v)  l(  IS  on  Tne-il.iy  iiielif-  (lie;:uniing  of  Jewish 
A\'e.liie>da\-)  ihal  .le-li,  deliiiiieK-  foretells  tlic  time 
of  lli^  death  (.Ml  ■Jii-'i.  Il  «ill  I. e  a  I- the  feast  of  the 
I'assover,  whieh  he-ins  afler  two  days.  Strangely 
enough,  on  this  very  night  tin;  rulers  were  in  con- 
ference, and  had  decidetl,  owing  to  Hie  popularity 
of  Jesus  with  the  multitude  at  the  feast,  as  shown 
by  the  triumphal  entry  and  the  temple  teaching,  to 
postpone  the  effort  to  kill  Him  till  after  the  feast 
(.Mt  26^-=).  And  so  it  would  ha\o  been  but  for  the 
treachery  of  one  of  Christ's  own  disciples,  who  this 
very  night,  after  the  doleful  announcement  by 
Jesus  of  His  near  death,  and  after  a  stern  rebuke 
for  his  covetous  stinginess  (Jn  12^'-),  went  in  dis- 
gust and  showed  the  iSanhedrin  how  to  seize  Him 
during  the  fea.st  (Lk  22«).  But  Jesus  saw  in  the 
lieantiful  act  of  Mary  a  prophecy  of  His  burial  (Jn 


(A)  Jesn 


He 


fully 


that  the  Paschal 
is  His  last,  is,  in 
fact,  taking  place  on  ihe  xmy  .lay  of  His  death 
(Jn  13^i-^-»»).  Tim  iiialerial  i,  now  so  rich  and 
full,  as  the  great  tra^iedy  draws  near,  that  it  can 
only  be  alluded  to  brielly.  He  is  eager  to  eat  this 
meal  before  He  suffers  (Lk  22''''-).  He  knows  that 
now  at  last  His  hour  has  come  (Jn  13'),  and  that 
He  will  conquer  death  (v.').  The  contentious  spirit 
of  the  Twelve  at  such  a  time  oeea.sions  ( lie  object- 
les.son  in  humility.  Jesus  poiii(s  oii(  (he  hetrayer, 
who  leaves  the  room;  coiufoils  (he  ili-eiples,  and 
warns  them  of  their  jieril,  llloll^ll  all   (ail  to  grasp 

(liesoleinii  fai-t  or  the  moral  t^iea ss  of  ( lie  tragedy 

lliat  J.s  I'omiiiL;-  swiflly  on  lliem,  aelnally  jiroducing 
Iwo  swinil^    lor   a    li^lil    uinlia-    (lie    iie«-   policy  of 
rcslslallee  iiou   aiino„,„.,.,|   i  ,y  Jesus  (Lk  2;;'»'-^). 
Pfleidcreri/;  .    m 


the 

answer  of  .bsu^,     e  :  lie  forjsets  that  this  answer 

iiia.\    }»(.'    Ill  illj  I      r  earnest,  but  rather  an  in- 

■.\\'\\:\\  Il .1     !       :l        :   Ill-stand  more  about  the  matter 

Ii     1 1|  I  1 1  for  Ptleiderer  to  set  up  his 

i  .11  all  the  clear  words  of  Jesus, 

,i:M,  I, I      ,     i    ,-.  ■atodie. 

())  \\  hen  Jesus  introduces  the  Supper  ju.st  after 
the  Fassover  meal.  He  speaks  a  strong  word  about 
His  deatli.  He  calls  the  cup  of  this  new  ordinance 
'  my  blood  of  the  covenant'  (Mk  14",  Mt26=«)  ;  and 
it  is  the  'new'  covenant,  i.e.  of  grace  (1  Co  11-", 
Lk  22=").  Not  only  so,  but  the  blood  of  Jesus  is 
shed  for  many  (Jlk  14-^  Mt  26«),  as  He  had  pre- 
\iiously  said  (Mt  20-',  Lk  W^) ;  and  St.  Matthew 
■       of  sins' 


Till 


looa)  would  expunge  this 


1st  doubt  as  to  the  true  text  of  Lk 
■J2'"-,  iiii(  this  in  no  way  affects  any  of  the  points 
alio\e  mentioned.  Certainly  expiation  of  sin  by 
tliu  .sliuilding  of  His  blood  is  the  idea  of  Jesus  here.  ' 


74     AXNOUXCEMENTS  OF  DEATH 


ANNUNCIATION,  THE 


The  world  had  lon^  been  familiar  mth  blood  sacri- 
fice, but  the  new  thing  in  His  vicarious  sacrifice  is 
that  it  has  real  efficacy  and  is  not  mere  type  and 
shadow.  The  blood  is  the  life,  and  Jesus  gave 
Himself,  a  sinless  and  free  self,  the  representative 
Man  and  God's  own  Son.  The  moral  value  of  this 
voluntary  and  vicarious  blood-oti'erin"  comes  from 
the  worth  of  the  spiritual  self  of  Jesus.  Je«us 
could  see  that  this  atoning  sacrifice  was  in  Is  fiV 
but  it  was  also  in\n-ought  in  His  veiy  consciuu  - 
ness. 

ij)  The  very  heart  of  Jesus  is  laid  bare  in  .In 
14-17.  The  Master  tries  once  more  to  prepare  the 
Eleven  for  the  tremendous  fact  of  His  death. 
Nothing  in  life  or  literature  approaches  the  touch 
of  Christ  as  He  makes  plain  the  awful  truth  of  His 
separation,  silences  the  doubt  of  Thomas,  Philip, 
Judas,  cheers  them  with  the  promise  of  another 
Paraclete,  reminds  them  of  their  liigh  dignity 
as  His  friends,  exhorts  them  to  courage  against 
the  world,  and  promises  victory  in  spite  of  tribula- 
tion. In  the  prayer  that  follows,  a  halo  is  around 
the  cross  in  the  mind  of  Christ,  for  He  asks  for  His 
glorification  in  death  (Jn  17'-  ^).  He  had  already 
sanctified  Himself  to  this  mission  (vv."-  '^),  and 
now  the  hour  is  at  hand. 

{k)  And  yet  in  Gethsemane  Jesus  Himself  is 
'  greatly  amazed '  at  His  own  agitation  of  spirit 
(Mk  U^).  He  needs  the  Father's  help,  and  for 
the  moment  has  ditticulty  in  finding  Him  fully, 
for  Satan  has  renewed  his  temptation  with  fresh 
energy.  For  a  moment  Satan  seemed  indeed  to 
triumph,  but  Jesus  quickly  surrendered  to  the 
Father's  will  and  won  supreme  mastery  over  Him- 
self (Mk  1435'-).  But  Kitschl  is  in  error  in  saying 
that  Jesus  'is  first  of  all  a  iirie-^t  in  His  own 
behalf  {Justification  ravl  I!,;;,„rii;,,tion,  p.  474). 
"What  broke  "the  heart  of  Clni-t  in  Gethsemane 
was  no  thought  of  His  own  sill,  hut  tlie  sin  of  the 
world.  Here  in  •  :<-th>iT[Kini'  the  lieartof  Jesus  was 
touched  to  the  i|uirk  liy  tin-  i>sence  of  the  redemp- 
tive sacrifice.  'I  Ij''  .li-ripli  -  gave  Him  no  human 
sympathy,  and  S.itan  i_-\rii  sought  to  poison  His 
heart  toward  the  Father.  The  picture  in  Hebrews 
(S'-")  of  the  strong  Son  of  God,  having  learned 
obedience  through  suttering,  crying  out  to  the 
Father  for  help,  is  the  acme  of  soul  agony.  Jesus 
won  ths  power  to  drink  the  cup,  and  in  the  dregs 
of  the  cup  was  the  kiss  of  Judas.  His  hour  has 
come  at  last,  and  His  enemies  take  Him  now  only 
because  He  allows  them.  It  is  the  hour  and  the 
power  of  darkness  (Lk  22'^).  The  hour  and  tlie 
power  of  light  will  come  later.  Once  again  He 
speaks  of  tlie  necessity  of  His  death  that  the  Scrip- 
tures may  be  fulfilled  (Mt  26==«). 

{I)  In  the  trial  it  is  a  foregone  conclusion  that 
Jesus  will  be  condemned,  and  on  the  cross  He  '  sees 
what  He  foresaw.'  He  knows  that  His  public  con- 
fession of  His  Messiahship  means  His  death,  but 
He  asserts  His  ultimate  triumph  over  His  enemies 
(Mt26''^'')-  He  claims  superiority  over  the  world, 
and  that  He  is  now  fulfilling  His  destiny  ( Jn  18^'). 
On  the  cross  itself  He  practises  the  forgiveness  of 
enemies  which  He  had  preached  (Lk  23^^),  exercises 
saving  power  though  djing  (v.-i^),  is  in  some  sense 
forsaken  by  the  Father  (Mk  15^),  is  conscious  to 
the  last  of  what  He  is  performing  (Jn  19^),  and 
proclaims  the  completion  of  His  Messianic  work 
(Jn  ISP)  as  He  dies  with  submission  to  the  Father 
(Lk  23-'«). 

After  the  resurrection  Jesus  had  a  new  stand- 
point from  which  to  teach  the  disciples  the  signifi- 
cance of  His  deatli  (Lk  24='--''-  '-'•  *).  But  it  is  not 
till  they  receive  the  new  light  from  the  Holy  Spirit 
at  Pentecost  that  the  disciples  fully  appreciate  the 
moral  greatness  of  the  death  of  Christ,  and  see  the 
glory  of  the  cross,  with  something  of  the  dignity 
with  which  Jesus  Himself  went  into  the  shadow. 


I.iTi- i:\ii  RF  — Si  hwartzkop.^f,  Dte  Weissagungen  Jesu  Christi 

n./i  >            /  ,    I       ,  '  h  i( ,i<j  wid  WUderkunfl  {\i9S)  \ 

Babu  ,    la  Mart  (1897);   Smeaton, 

Ou>     I  '    '         f'nnrment  (1871);   Fairbairn, 

'Hit  II      1       1    I ',:\th,'  Erpoxitor  {Oct.   Dec. 

l^'i'i              I  i               /       ft'rt(/i  o/  CAmi  (1902) ; 

Hnlli                    '  '     Iwle,  The  Atone- 

ui, ,  imliation  (1900) ; 

DtU  1  W'*  ?w,  der  Avjer- 

til  Ik  I                   I     1  ivth,  Die  Baupt- 

,,n  I    i,er,  Vag  Setbst- 
I      -                                          ,      h,-    Selbst- 

I  h      1                                                   M<  nach 

1     .    ,  .  /  I'll  IWff., 

"        '       'If  A.  i.  i;uLuabON. 

ANNUNCIATION,  THE  {Annuntialio,  EuarycX- 
nr^ttiis,  XapiTiiTjx6^). — The  announcement  of  the  fact 
that  the  Son  of  God  was  to  be  born  of  the  Virgin 
Mary,  who  at  the  time  was  espoused  to  Joseph, 
the  descendant  and  heir  of  David.  St.  Luke 
(1=6-38)  tells  us  that  this  announcement  was  made 
to  Mary  by  the  angel  Gabriel  at  Nazareth  si,x 
months  after  the  same  angel  had  told  Zacharias 
in  the  Temple  at  Jerusalem  that  his  wife  Elisabeth 
should  bear  him  a  son,  who  was  to  be  called  John. 
St.  Luke  is  our  sole  authority  for  this  announce- 
ment by  the  angel  to  Mary.  St.  Mark  and  St. 
John  are  silent ;  and  the  narrative  of  St.  Matthew, 
who  is  our  other  authority  for  the  fact  that  Jesus 
was  born  of  a  virgin,  is  very  ditterent,  being 
written  as  entirely  from  Joseph's  point  of  view  as 
St.  Luke's  is  written  from  Mary's  point  of  view 
(see  below).  Nevertheless  there  is  no  contradic- 
tion between  the  accounts,  and  in  some  important 
particulars  they  confirm  one  another.  They  are 
wholly  independent  narratives,  as  their  wide 
ditt'erences  show.  Yet  they  agree,  not  only  as-  to 
the  central  fact  of  the  virgin  birth,  but  also  as  to 
the  manner  of  it,  viz.  that  it  took  place  through 
the  operation  of  the  Holy  Spirit.  This  agreement 
is  all  the  more  remarkable  when  we  remember 
that  there  is  nothing  like  this  eflect  of  the  Spirit 
of  God  upon  a  virgin  in  the  Old  Testament,  and 
that,  prior  to  the  New  Testament,  the  very  ex- 
pression 'Holy  Spirit'  is  rare  (see  the  art.  in 
Hastings'  Dli  ii.  p.  402  fl'.);  also  that  the  fact  of 
the  Incarnation  is  elsewhere  indicated  in  quite 
other  terms,  as  by  St.  John  (1").  Moreover,  the 
t«o  narratives  agree  as  to  four  other  points,  which 
are  of  some  importance.  Both  state  that  at  the 
time  of  the  announcement  Maiy  was  espoused  to 
Joseph,  that  the  child  was  to  be  named  '  Jesus,' 
that  He  was  born  at  Bethlehem  in  Jtidoea,  and 
that  the  parents  brought  Him  up  at  Nazareth. 

It  is  well  to  remember  that  there  are  stories, 
more  or  less  analogous  to  what  is  told  by  the  two 
Evangelists,  in  heathen  mythologies.  The  his- 
torical probability  of  the  Gospel  narratives  is  not 
weakened  but  strengthened  by  such  comparisons. 
St.  Luke's  Gentile  readers  must  have  felt  the  un- 
speakable diflerence  between  tlie  coarse  impurity 
of  imagined  intercourse  between  mortals  and 
divinities,  in  the  religious  legends  of  paganism, 
and  the  dignity  and  delicacy  of  the  spiritual  narra- 
tive which  St.  Luke  laid  before  them.  And  St. 
Matthew's  Jewish  readers,  if  they  compared  his 
story  with  their  own  national  ideas,  as  illustrated 
in  the  Book  of  Enoch  (6.  15.  69.  86.  106),  would 
find  a  similar  contrast.  Nor  should  the  legendary 
additions  to  the  Gospel  story,  Avhich  are  found  in 
the  Apocryphal  Gospels,  be  forgotten.  These  show 
us  what  pitiful  stuff  the  imagination  of  early 
Christians  could  produce,  even  w^en  the  Canonical 
Gospels  were  there  as  Buodels.  All  these  three 
classes  of  fiction,  heathen,  Jewish,  and  Christian, 
warn  us  that  we  must  seek  some  source  for  the 
Gospel  narrative  other  than  the  fertile  imagina- 
tion of  some  Gentile  or  Jewish  Christian  whose 
curiosity  led  him  to  speculate  upon  a  mysterious 


ANNUNCIATION,  THE 


ANNUNCIATION,  THE 


subject.  We  should  have  had  something  very 
different,  l)oth  in  details  and  in  tone,  if  there  had 
been  no  better  source  than  this.  And  this  applies 
even  more  strongly  to  St.  Luke's  narrative  than 
to  that  of  St.  Mattlle\^•.  It  required  more  delicacy 
to  tell  the  story  of  the  vir,L;in  birth  from  Mary's 
side  than  from  Joseph's  ;  and  tliis  greater  delicacy 
is  forthcoming.  And  it  is  all  the  more  conspicuous 
because  St.  Luke's  narrative  is  the  richer  in 
details.  We  conclude,  therefore,  that  St.  Luke 
had  good  authority  for  what  he  has  told  us,  viz. 
an  authority  well  acquainted  with  the  facts.  For 
if  he  was  incapable  of  imagining  what  he  has 
related,  equally  incapable  was  his  informant.  The 
narrative  wliicli  he  has  handed  on  to  us  is  what 
it  is  because  in  tlie  main  it  sets  forth  what  is  true. 

Then  who  was  St.  Luke's  autlioiily?  Assuming 
the  truth  of  the  narrative,  it  i^  (>lAi.)iis  ihat,  in 
the   last  resort,   the  authority   f'lr    il    imi-t   have 

been  Mary  herself.     Xo  one  eU nl.l  know  what 

St.  Luke  records.  It  dm's  ik.i  lulldw  from  this 
that  he  got  the  iidoiiii:il  ion  liom  her  directly, 
although  there  is  notliinu  iiiriiiiilile  in  the  sup- 
position that  he  and  slii'  li.id  met.  And  the  form 
of  the  narrative  leads  one  to  think  that  there  can- 
not have  been  many  persons  between  her  and  him. 
By  frequent  transmission  from  mouth  to  mouth 
details  about  the  angel's  outward  appearance,  his 
beauty  and  brightness,  and  about  ISIary's  attitude 
and  employment,  would  liave  crept  in,  and  the 
conversation  would  have  been  expanded  ;  all  of 
which  corruptions  are  found  in  the  Apocryphal 
Gospels.  Moreover,  such  touches  as  2'''-  ■'■'  would 
be  likely  to  drop  out ;  and  they  have  dropped  from 
the  Apocryphal  Gospels. 

We  may  go  a  step  farther,  and  say  that  if  St. 
Luke  did  not  get  his  information  direct  from 
Mary  herself,  the  person  who  passed  on  the  mys- 
terious story  from  her  to  the  Evangelist  was 
almost  certainly  a  woman.  Mary  would  be  much 
more  likely  to  tell  it  to  a  woman  than  to  a  man  ; 
and,  in  spite  of  her  habitual  reticence,  she  would, 
after  Joseph's  death,  be  likely  to  confide  it  to  some 
one.  She  would  feel  that  such  an  astounding 
fact,  so  much  in  harmony  with  the  life  and  death 
and  resurrection  of  her  Son,  must  not  be  allowed 
to  die  with  her ;  and  she  would  therefore  com- 
municate it  to  some  intimate  friend,  who  may  have 
communicated  it  to  St.  Luke. 

It  is  quite  possible  that  this  communication  was 
at  its  first  stage,  or  had  not  even  started,  when  St. 
Mark  composed  liis  ( lusprl.  so  Ih.-il,  wlicii  ]\f  wroti> 
he  was  ignorant   of  tin-  viium   l.irlh.      Kiit   as  tho 

plan  of   his   Guspfl    .-xrlu.lr,    :,ll    that    pil-rrdoj  thi- 

preaching  of  the  Jjaplist,  St.  .Mark's  silence  would 
be  natural  even  if  he  already  knew  it.  Probably 
most  of  the  first  generation  of  Christians  were 
ignorant  of  this  mystery,  for  the  Book  of  Acts 
and  the  Epistles  show  us  that  v\diat  was  preached 
by  till'  Apo^tl.'^  was  not  the  miraculous  birth,  but 
the  .1. Ml,  ami  ivann.rtion  of  Christ  (Ac  l-^2=3- 2^- 32 
3'M"'  In  ■  "  l:;-    '  17^^' etc.). 

That  the  Fourth  Evangelist  knew  the  Synoptic 
Gospels,  and  sometimes  silently  corrects  them,  is 
certain  ;  but  he  does  not  correct  the  story  of  the 
virgin  birth.  On  the  contrary,  what  he  says 
about  the  Incarnation  and  about  the  pre-existence 
of  the  Son  of  Man  and  His  oneness  with  the 
Father,  is  in  harmony  with  it.  Such  passages  as 
lMsae,3a.44.o<.,.,  j.:«.«.58  iQ^o  n'^  2028- "  are  more 
intelligible  if  wrillcn  by  <me  who  believed  the 
virgin  birth,  tlian  if  wrili.ai  l,y  one  who  knew  the 
doctrine  and  r.]..  I.-.I  it.  It  is  indeed  urged  that 
this  Evangelists  bdii'fs  aliout  the  Christ  are  such, 
that  he  must  have  statetl  the  virgin  birth,  if  he 
believed  it.  But,  as  the  story  had  already  been 
twice  told,  there  was  no  need  to  repeat  it.  And 
the  whole  of  his  Gospel  shows  that  he  is  reserved 


about  the  Virgin  Mother,  whose  name  he  alone 
among  the  Evangelists  never  mentions.  She  had 
become  his  mother  {19='),  and  he  is  reticent  about 
all  things  connected  with  himself.  He  nowhere 
names  his  own  brother. 

KiMrthili's;,  wlien  the  my.stery  became  known 
thron-h  I  ho  .allusion  of  the  First  and  Third 
Gos|i,.U,  ii^  iiiiiiortance  as  a  completion  and  con- 
liriiiation  of  the  faith  was  recognized.  Ignatius 
(c.  A.D.  110),  in  a  pa.ssage  {Eph.  19)  which  is  fre- 
quently quoted  by  later  Fathers  (Origen,  Euse- 
bius,  Basil,  Jerome,  etc.),  places  the  virgin  birth 
in  tlie  front  rank  among  Gospel  truths ;  and  we 
find  it  as  an  article  of  faith  in  the  Old  Koman 
Creed,  which  can  be  traced  almost  to  the  beginning 
of  the  second  century,  riv  -livrqBivTa.  (k  iri'eu/ji.aTos 
aylov  Kal  Mapias  t^s  irapdivov  :  qui  natiis  est  de  U.S. 
ex  M.  V. 

The  antecedent  probability  that  St.  Luke  de- 
rived the  information  respecting  Mary  either  from 
herself,  or  from  a  woman  to  Mhom  she  had  con- 
fided it,  is  confirmed  by  the  characteristics  of  these 
first  two  chapters  of  his  Gospel.  The  notes  of  time 
^jM.  3ii.  56j  are  specially  feminine;  and  competent 
critics  lind  a  feminine  touch  througlioui  (!-'•  -■■■ji-j--  " 

25-7.  19.  U5.  48.  01).       La,„„e   ^lij;,    „f   r/,rr./   [.;].    ISTl'],    1. 

p.  2.58)  saj-s  :  'The  colouring  ol  a  \\,.niaii  s  nauioiy 
anda  woman's  view  isunmislakalili^  iii  i  ho  separate 
features  of  this  history.  When  it  is  oner  .ascribed 
to  a  female  narrator  .  .  .  wo  loiiquohonil  the  in- 
describable grace,  the  quiet  lii\olinrs-,  and  sacred- 
ness  of  this  narrative.'  Itamsay  ( ]l'a.s  Christ  born 
at  Bethlehem?  p.  88)  says:  'There  is  a  womanly 
spirit  in  the  whole  narrative  which  seems  incon- 
sistent with  the  transition  from  man  to  man.' 
Sanday  (Expository  Times,  April  1UU3,  p.  297) 
agrees  that  the  narrative  came  not  only  from  a 
woman,  but  through  a  woman,  and  he  thinks  that 
Joanna,  the  wife  of  Chuza,  steward  to  Herod 
Antipas  (Lk  8--^  24'";  cf.  23''^  Ac  l'-"),  may  have 
been  the  person  through  whom  the  information 
passed  from  Mary  to  St.  Luke.  Both  Lange  (con- 
fidently) and  Sanday  (less  confidently)  believe  that 
St.  Luke  received  the  information  in  writing,  and 
that  he  wrote  the  first  two  chapters  with  a  docu- 
ment before  him.  On  the  whole,  this  is  probable. 
It  is  quite  true  that  the  peculiarities  and  character- 
istics of  St.  Luke's  very  niarkod  stylo  arc  specially 
frequent  in  these  twi.. '|m|iIii^  (  riiiinm.  t,  ,s/.  Luke, 
p.  Ixx) ;  but  they  aio  aNo  \oiy  tiv,|uont  in  other 
places  where  he  was  workiriL;  from  a  document. 
St.  Luke  seems  never  to  have  simply  copied  his 
authority.  In  using  written  material  he  freely 
altered  the  wording  to  exijrcssiuns  which  were 
more  natural  to  himself  :  so  that  mere  frequency 
of  marks  of  his  style  is  no  proof  that  he  was  not 
using  what  was  already  in  writing.  And,  of 
course,  when  he  was  translating  from  an  Aramaic 
document  bis  own  fa\durite  words  and  construc- 
tions would  <-oiiic  spoiilaueously. 

But,  \\liih'(his  i,  ail  I II  it  ted  because  it  admits  of 
sonn-lhint;  like  pro.ii,  we  are  not  compelled  to 
admit  the  unproved  assertion  that  the  hymns  of 
praise  with  which  these  chapters  are  enriched  have 
been  composed  by  St.  Luke  himself,  and  have  no 
more  basis  in  fact  than  the  speeches  in  Livy.  Each 
of  these  canticles  suits  the  time  at  which  it  is  sup- 
posed to  have  been  uttered  better  than  the  time  at 
which  St.  Luke  wrote,  and  it  may  be  doubted 
whether  he  could  in  imagination  have  thrown 
himself  back  to  the  surroundin-s  and  anticipations 
of  Zach.arias  and  :\lary  and  Simeon.  There  may 
have  lieen  on  his  part  '■  a  free  liieiary  remodelling 
of  material'  (B.  Weiss).  I'.elon^  anythingwas 
written  down  I  here  may  have  been  some  modifica- 
tion in  Hie  woi.liiie  as  the  result  of  rellexion  upon 
what  had  been  uttered  and  done.  There  may  even 
have  liccu  conscious  elaboration.     But  it  is  reason- 


76 


AKNUXCIATIOX,  THE 


AXNUNCIATION,  THE 


able  to  believe  that  these  exquisite  and  approijiiate 
songs  represent  fairly  accurately  what  was  said 
and  felt  on  each  occasion.  What  was  said  and 
felt  would  be  remeniliered,  and  perhaps  was  com- 
mitted to  writing  long  before  St.  Luke  obtained 
the  precious  record,  although  not  till  many  years 
after  the  events.  And  there  is  nothing  extrava- 
gant in  the  belief  that  Mary  herself  may  at  last 
have  thought  it  best  to  commit  her  recollections 
and  meditations  to  writing.  The  feeling,  mcum 
sccretiim  mihi,  would  pevail  for  a  long  time : 
'she  jjondered  these  things  in  her  heart.'  Then, 
as  the  end  of  her  life  drew  neai"er,  she  mirfit  put 
on  record  what  ought  not  to  be  lost.  Finally,  she 
committed  the  sacred  mystery  to  another  woman, 
or  to  a  small  group  of  women  ;  and  from  them  it 
passed  to  St.  Luke.  But  we  must  be  content  to 
remain  in  ignorance  as  to  whether  INIary,  or  some 
conlidante,  or  St.  Luke  himself,  was  the  lirst  to 
put  the  story  in  writing. 

That  St.  Luke  should  be  the  Evangelist  to 
receive  this  womanly  stoi'y  of  women  is  not  sur- 
prising. The  rest  o{  his  Gospel  shows  a  marked 
sympathy  with  the  sex  which  was  so  commonly 
looked  down  upon  by  both  Jews  and  Gentiles.  To 
this  day,  in  the  public  service  of  the  synagogue, 
the  men  thank  God  that  they  have  not  been  made 
women.  No  other  Evangelist  gives  us  so  many 
types  of  women.  Besides  those  in  the  first  two 
chapters,  we  have  the  widow  at  Nain,  the  sinner 
in  Simon's  house,  Mary  Magdalene,  Joanna, 
Susanna,  the  woman  \\ith  the  issue,  Martha  and 
Mary,  the  woman  bowed  down  for  eighteen  years, 
the  widow  with  her  two  mites,  the  daughters  of 
Jerusalem,  and  the  women  at  the  tomb.  And  he 
alone  gives  us  the  parable  of  the  Woman  and  the 
Lost  Coin.  We  may  believe  that  he  was  one  in 
whom  a  woman  might  naturally  confide. 

While  in  St.  Luke  everything  is  grouped  round 
ATary  an.l  luT  kiii^w.,m:ni  Elisabeth,  in  St. 
Mal'tlirw  cMiylliiii.;  i>  ninuped  round  Josepli. 
.I(.^r|ili-  'ji'ni'.'ilii^v  is  ;ji\i'n  by  way  of  preface. 
Thr  AiiimiirKitiuii'  is  nia.lf  to  him  ;  and  all  revela- 
tions aliont  the  name  of  tlic  Child,  and  the  provi- 
sions to  1)13  taken  for  His  safoty,  are  made  also  to 
him.  Obvimisly.  if  f  lie  story  is  trne,  Joseph  must 
have  been  the  ultimate  source  of  a  great  deal  of  it; 
but  it  may  have  passed  through  luanj'  mouths 
before  it  took  the  form  in  which  it  appears  in  the 
First  Gospel. 

Doubt  has  been  thrown  upon  the  two  narratives, 
because  in  the  First  Gospel  the  revelations  are 
made  by  the  angel  of  the  l<ord  in  dreams,  whereas 
in  the  Third  they  are  made  by  angels  to  persons 
in  their  waking  moments.  It  is  argued  that  in 
each  case  the  miraculous  agency  is  due  to  the  ima- 
gination of  the  writer.  This  is  possible.  But  it  is 
also  reasonable  to  believe  that  the  special  method 
of  communication  was  in  each  case  adapted  to  tlie 
character  of  the  recipients.  It  cannot  be  said  that 
St.  JMatthew  always  gives  us  dreams,  or  that  St. 
Luke  objects  to  such  things.  St.  ^latthew  men- 
tions the  ministry  of  angels  (4"),  and  communica- 
tions made  by  means  of  them  (28'-') ;  and  St.  Luke 
mentions  communications  made  by  means  of  visions 
in  the  night  (Ac  IG"  IS''-'").  And  if  the  writers 
had  imagined  tin'  siil.stanic  of  the  heavenly 
message,  would  not  Si.  Manias  have  given  the 
promise  of  the  Kin  I'lm,  aial  St.  I.uke  the  pro- 
mise of  Salvati()n  ?  I!nl  it  is  SI.  Matthew  who 
has  the  latter  (1=').  while  St.  Luke  has  the  former 
(P- '■■').  It  is  worth  noting  that  in  the  New  Testa- 
ment we  do  not  read  of  dreams  or  visions  in  the 
night  anywhere  but  in  St.  Matthew  and  in  Acts  ; 
cf.  2  Co  12>. 

Again,  doubts  have  been  raised  about  the  two 
narratives,  because  in  the  one  the  revelation  of  the 
miraculous  conception  is  made  to  Mary,  in  the 


other  to  Joseph  ;  and  either  revelation,  it  is  urged, 
would  render  the  other  unnecessary.  On  the  con- 
trary, both  are  necessary.  If  the  \'irgin  birth  was 
to  take  place,  God  in  His  mercy  would  not  leave 
Mary  in  ignorance  of  the  mj-sterious  manner  in 
which  He  was  about  to  deal  with  her.  We  may 
reverently  say  that  the  Annunciation  to  Mary  was 
a  necessity  in  order  to  save  her  from  dreadful 
perplexity  and  sutt'eriiig.  And  this  rendered  a 
revelation  to  Joseph  also  necessary.  On  the  mere 
testimony  of  Mary  he  could  not  liave  accepted  so 
extraordinary  a  story.  The  fact  that,  in  spite  of 
his  inevitable  suspicions,  he  took  her  in  marriage, 
requires  us  to  believe  that  to  him  also  had  been 
revealed  God's  purposes  respecting  his  betrothed. 

It  is  evident  that  St.  Matthew  and  St.  Luke 
give  the  narratives  as  historical.  Each  believed 
ills  own  story,  and  expected  that  others  would 
believe  it  also  (Lk  I'').  Indeed,  the  isolation  in 
which  these  two  \exy  different  intimations  of  the 
virj;tii  l>iitli  slaiiil  ill  the  New  Testament  makes 
till.'  i'\|il.niai  i<iii  (if  them  very  difhcult  unless  there 
is  ail  iii^toiiral  liasis.  They  are  not  needed  to 
exjilaiii  any  t  liiiig  else.  They  are  intensely  Jewish 
in  tone;  but  we  maybe  sure  that  Judaism,  with 
its  enthusiastic  estimate  of  the  blessings  of  mar- 
riage, would  not  have  invented  them.  Moreover, 
at  the  time  when  these  Gospels  were  written, 
Judaism  was  antagonistic  to  the  new  faith,  and 
would  not  have  tolerated  such  a  glorifying  of  its 
Founder. 

In  tlie  Annunciation  to  Mary  we  are  not  told 
that  she  saw  anything,  for  the  iSoma  read  by  A  C 
in  Lk  1-'  is  almost  certainly  not  genuine.  Gabriel 
was  sent,  and  entered  some  building  in  which  she 
was  living  at  Nazareth,  and  there  delivered  his 
message.  The  eimXBiJiv  is  against  the  later  tradi- 
tion that  she  >\as  at  the  fountain  drawing  water 
(Protevangdium  of  James,  11;  Gospel  of  pseudo- 
Matthew,  9).  Tlie  angelic  message  is  given  'in 
three  little  pieces  of  trimeter  poetry,  which  have 
become  somewhat  obscured  by  the  Greek  transla- 
tion' (Briggs,  The  Messiah  of  the  Gospels,  \>. 
45  ff.),  the  first  of  which  is  the  Ave  Maria  '  in  the 
form  of  a  distich ' — 


The  much  discussed  Kex''P"'"M^'";  must  mean 
'endued  with  grace'  (Sir  18"):  irlaTiv  Kal  x'^P"' 
\aliovaa  Mapla  (Justin  Martyr,  Tnj.  100);  and 
both  here  and  in  1**  the  usual  translation  '  grace ' 
should  be  retained  for  x^/"'-  'The  Lord  is  with 
thee'  is  frequent  in  the  Old  Testament  (Jos  1' 
G^",  Jg  6'2,  Is  43').  The  liV  is  probably  right 
in  omitting  '  Blessed  (art)  thou  among  women,' 
which  may  have  come  from  I''- :  N  B  L,  with  the 
Egyptian  and  Armenian  Versions,  omit. 

By  the  lirst  words  of  the  angel,  Mary  was 
greatly  disturbed  (SicTapdx*'))  both  in  mind  and 
heart :  then  her  perplexity  and  emotion  gave  place 
to  thought  {Sie\oyii€To).  But,  although  -irorawds 
originally  meant  'from  what  country  or  nation,' 
she  was  not  deliberating,  like  Hamlet  about  the 
ghost,  whether  the  message  came  from  heaven  or 
hell,  i.e.  whether  it  was  Divine  or  diabolical.  The 
Latin  Versions  rightly  have  qnalis,  not  cujas,  as 
an  equivalent.  Nowhere  in  the  New  Testament 
has  woTdTro^  a  local  signilication,  but  means  simply 
'of  what  kind   or  quality'   (Trorot),    and    implies 


Mk 


2P  3" 


astonishment   (Lk  7"",   Mt 
1  Jn  3>). 

In  his  second  address  Gabriel  calms  the  Virgin's 
fears  and  explains  the  purpose  of  his  mission. 
'  Thou  hast  found  grace  with  God '  is  another 
Old  Testament  expression  (Gn  6«  18^  19'^  39S  Ex 
33'--  '■'•  "*• '").  This  '  grace '  is  manifested  in  making 
her  the  mother  of  the  longed-for  Messiah,  an  un- 
speakalilo  joy  to  a  Jewish  mother.    In  the  promise 


ANNUNCIATION,  THE 


ANNUNCIATION,  THE 


which  follows  there  are  allusions  to  two  prophecies. 
'  Son  of  the  Most  High '  recalls  Ps  2',  and  '  the 
throne  of  his  father  David'  recalls  the  great 
Messianic  prediction  in  Is  9"-'. 

By  the  second  utterance  of  Gahriel,  wliich  con- 
tains the  sul)stance  of  the  Annunciation,  Mary  is 
astounded.  Yet  she  does  not,  like  Zacharias,  ask 
for  proof  (1").  Nor  is  her  'How?'  a  request  for 
an  explanation.  Rather  it  is  an  exclamation  of 
amazement.  She  is  not  married  :  how  can  she 
have  a  son  ?  And  how  can  a  humble  maiden  like 
herself  have  such  a  son?  This  seems  to  be  the 
natural  import  of  her  words.  It  is  unlikely  that 
'  I  know  not  a  man '  means  that  she  has  already 
taken,  or  there  and  then  takes,  or  intends  to  take, 
a  vow  of  perpetual  virginity.  And  can  Mt  1-*, 
with  its  Imperfect  tense  (not  Aorist,  as  in  Gn  19*), 
be  reconciled  with  any  such  vow?  Mary's  dvSpa 
ov  yiviia-Ku  is  a  confession  of  conscious  purity, 
drawn  from  her  by  the  surprising  promise  that 
she  is  to  have  a  son  before  she  is  married  (see 
Sadler,  ad  loc). 

Although  Mary  does  not  ask  for  an  explanation 
or  a  sign,  Gabriel  gives  both  in  a  tliird  utterance. 
As  to  the  explanation,  it  is  an  influence  that  is 
spiritual  and  not  carnal,  that  is  holy  and  not 
sinful,  that  is  to  come  upon  her  and  enable  her  to 
become  a  mother,  and  the  mother  of  the  Messiali. 
'  Wherefore  also  the  holy  thing  which  shall  be  born 
Shall  be  called  the  Son  of  God.' 
'Son  of  God'  was  a  recognized  title  of  the 
Messiah.  Both  in  the  Book  of  Enoch  and  fre- 
quently in  4  Ezra  the  Almighty  speaks  of  the 
Messiah  as  His  Son.  Jesus  rarely  uses  this  title 
of  Himself  (Mt  21^,  Jn  10**).  But  we  have  it  in 
the  voices  from  heaven  (Lk  3--  9^^)  and  in  the 
devil's  challenge  (4*- "),  in  St.  Peter's  confession 
(Mt  16"*),  in  the  cries  of  the  demoniacs  (Mk  3"  5'), 
and  in  the  centurion's  exclamation  (15^*).  The 
primitive  Church  adopted  it  as  a  concise  statement 
of  the  Divinity  of  Jesus  Christ  (Swete,  Apostles' 
Creed,  p.  24).  It  is  worth  notin",  in  connexion 
with  the  part  assigned  to  the  Holy  Spirit  in  the 
virgin  birth,  that  in  a  fragment  of  the  Gospel 
according  to  the  Hebrews  quoted  by  Origen 
(Com.  in  Johan.  iii.  §  63)  the  words,  '  My 
mother,  the  Holy  Spirit,  took  Me,'  are  put  into 
the  mouth  of  Christ. 

As  to  the  sign,  which  was  granted  unasked, 
Mary  receives  one  which  is  as  convincing  as  the 
one  given  to  Zacharias,  but  much  more  gracious. 
Another  wonderful  birth  is  about  to  take  place, 
and  by  the  mention  of  '  the  sixth  month '  the  angel 
assures  Mary  that  all  is  known  to  him.  Mary  can 
verify  his  words  respecting  Elisabeth,  and  thereby 
know  that  this  message  to  herself  is  true.  He 
intimates  that  there  is  to  be  close  relationship 
between  Elisabeth's  son  and  her  own,  and  directs 
her  to  her  kinswoman  for  confirmation  and  sym- 
pathy. 

Mary's  final  response  to  the  angel  is  not  a  prayer 
that  what  he  has  jiromised  may  be  fulfilled,  but 
an  expression  of  absolute  submission.  She  fore- 
sees the  diliiculty  with  Joseph  and  with  all  who 
know  her.  But  she  accepts,  without  reserve, 
God's  decree  respecting  her,  as  made  known  to 
her  by  His  messenger,  and  leaves  the  issue  in  His 
hands.  She  is  the  Lord's  bondmaid,  and  His  will 
must  be  done. 

There  is  perhaps  more  irreverence  than  wisdom 
in  speculating  whether  God  could  have  redeemed 
mankind  by  one  who  was  produced  without  human 
parent ;  or,  again,  by  one  who  had  a  human  father 
as  well  as  a  human  mother.  But  suggestions  of 
this  kind  have  been  made,  and  perhaps  call  for 
comment.  It  may  be  pointed  out  that  a  new  act 
of  creation  would  have  left  no  nexus  between  the 
Redeemer  and  those  to  be  redeemed.     He  would 


not  have  belonged  to  the  same  race  as  those  whom 
He  came  to  save.  He  would  not  have  taken  their 
flesh,  and  His  life  would  have  had  little  relation  to 
theirs.  It  is  diflicult  to  see  how  the  death  and 
resurrection  of  such  a  being  would  have  aided  the 
human  race.  But  the  virgin  birth  avoided  all 
violent  breach  with  humanity.  Just  as  the  pro- 
phet (John  the  Baptist)  who  was  to  renovate 
Israel  was  taken  from  the  old  priesthood,  so  the 
Christ  who  was  to  redeem  the  whole  of  mankind 
was  not  created  out  [of  nothing,  but  '  born  of  a 
woman.' 

Again,  if  the  Christ  had  had  two  human  parents, 
it  is  diflicult  to  see  how  the  hereditary  contamina- 
tion of  the  race  could  have  been  excluded.  It  may 
be  said  that  such  contamination  remains  even  with 
only  one  human  parent,  and  that  the  choice  lies 
between  admitting  the  contamination  and  sever- 
ing the  nexus  with  the  human  race  altogether. 
But,  in  truth,  there  is  no  such  dilemma.  The 
choice  is  not  between  creation  on  the  one  hand 
and  human  parentage  (whether  with  one  or  two 
parents)  on  the  other.  There  is  also  the  possi- 
bility of  the  substitution  of  Divine  agency  for  the 
human  father.  It  is  conceivable  that  the  presence 
of  this  Divine  element  would  entirely  exclude 
the  possibility  of  contamination  from  the  human 
mother.  Indeed  it  is  difficult  to  conceive  that  the 
Divine  element  could  in  any  way  receive  con- 
tamination. But  it  is  wiser  to  accept  with 
reverent  thankfulness  what  has  been  revealed  to 
us  respecting  this  mystery  than  to  speculate  need- 
lesslj',  and  perhaps  fruitlessly,  about  what  has  not 
been  revealed. 

It  has  been  pointed  out  already  that  the  beauty, 
dignity,  and  delicacy  of  the  story  of  the  Annun- 
ciation are  tokens  of  historic  reality ;  for  the 
fictions  about  similar  subjects  in  pagan,  Jewish, 
and  Christian  literature  are,  in  these  respects, 
so  veiy  ditterent.  There  is  yet  another  mark  of 
historic  truth  to  be  noted,  viz.  the  extreme 
simplicity  of  the  Christology.  New  Testament 
doctrine  about  the  Christ  is  here  found  at  a  very 
early  stage,  earlier  even  than  that  in  the  Epistles 
to  the  Corinthians  ;  for  there  we  have  Christ's 
pre-existence  implied  as  '  the  second  man  from 
heaven'  (1  Co  15^'),  who  'became  poor'  when  He 
became  man  for  us  (2  Co  8',  cf.  4-'-'')  ;  and  there- 
fore much  earlier  than  the  more  developed  Chris- 
tology of  Colossians  (P')  and  Ephesians  (P^'  4P), 
and  than  that  of  the  writer  to  the  Hcbnws  (!'),  or 
that  of  the  Fourth  Gospel  ( 1 "  3'- 17^).  '  The  power 
of  the  Most  High  shall  overshadow  thee'  reminds 
us  rather  of  the  manifestations  of  the  DiWne  ])re- 
sence  in  the  Old  Testament,  especially  the  '  pillar 
of  cloud '  (Ex  13='  402^-»,  1  K  8i"- ").  If  St.  Luke 
had  invented  the  story  of  the  Annunciation,  would 
he  not  have  given  us  more  of  Pauline  Christology, 
and  that  in  its  fullest  form  ?  That  he  has  given 
us  what  is  so  rudimentary  is  evidence  that  he 
gives  a  record  of  what  was  revealed  to  Mary  at 
the  time,  rather  than  what  he  himself  knew  and 
believed. 

The  couplet  with  which  the  narrative  ends(l^) 
balances  that  with  which  it  opens  (f ),  and  it  is 
one  of  deep  spiritual  significance  to  every  believer. 
By  her  absolute  submission  to  the  will  of  God,  in 
spite  of  the  agony  of  shame  and  distress  which 
this  involved,  Mary  entered  into  an  intimacy  of 
relationship  with  Father,  Son,  and  Holy  Spirit, 
such  as  even  angels  cannot  know.  And  yet  it  is 
jjrecisely  here  tliat  tlie  liumblest  Christian  may, 
by  similar  obedience,  follow  her.  '  Blessed  is  the 
womb  that  bare  thee,'  said  one  to  the  Lord,  'and 
the  breasts  which  thou  didst  suck.  But  he  said. 
Yea  rather,  blessed  are  they  that  hear  the  word 
of  God,  and  keep  it '  (Lk  ll"-  =*). 

It  was  natural  that  a  special  day  should  be  set 


AXOINTING 


ANOINTING 


apart  to  commemorate  this  mystery,  but  we  do 
not  know  when  this  was  first  done.  Tlie  earliest 
mention  of  such  a  festival  is  in  the  Acts  of  the 
Tenth  Synod  of  Toledo  (a.d.  656) ;  and  the  next 
is  in  those  of  the  Second  Synod  in  Trullo  (A.D. 
692).  But,  just  as  the  Purification  was  origin- 
ally a  feast  in  honour  of  our  Lord  rather  than  of 
the  Virgin  Mary,  viz.  of  His  presentation  in  the 
Temple  and  meeting  with  Simeon  and  Anna,  so  also 
this  festival  originally  commemorated  His  miracu- 
lous conception  rather  than  the  announcement 
made  to  her.  In  the  Ethiopian  Calendar  it  is  not 
called  '  the  Annunciation  of  the  blessed  Virgin 
Mary,' but  ' the  Conception  of  Christ':  elsewhere 
the  later  name  of  the  feast  has  driven  out  the 
original  title,  not  only  in  the  West,  but  also  in  the 
Eastern  Churches. 

Literature.— Briggs,  The  Messiah  of  the  Gospels,  p.  41  ff., 
New  Light  on  the  Life  of  Jesus,  1904,  p.  160ff. ;  Ramsay,  Was 
Christ  born  at  Bethlehem?;  Sanday,  art.  'Jesus  Christ'  in 
Hastings'  DB  ii.  p.  643  fit.,  also  Expository  Times,  April  1903; 
Pearson,  On  the  Cn'^d,  rirf.  iii.  ;  .Swete,  The  Apostles'  Creed, 
p.  41  ff.,  also  Expm.  7'. .«-  s,  ]-:•:;;  W  ist.-ott.  The  Historic  Faith, 
p.  69ff.  ;  B.  Weiss,  ;.,/..„  ./,,»,  ii.  §  2  [Eng.  tr.  i.  p.  222  ff.]; 
Loofs,  Leitfaden  :.  Sttuhu>/i  i(.  Du'jtnenqeschichte;  Soltau, 
Geburtsgeschichte  ./.sir  rliristi,  l!)((2;  J.  A.  Robinson,  Some 
Thoughts  on  the  Incarnation,  19i;i3 ;  Knowling,  Our  Lord's 
Virgin  Birth;  Ch.  QuaH.  MeiK,  July  and  Oct.  1904  ;  Gore,  The 
Incarnation,  77fl.,  2.51f.;  Garvie,  Expositor,  Feb.  1902.  On 
the  sceptical  side :  Keim,  Jesus  of  yazara,  ii.  p.  38  ff.  ;  Hase, 
Geschichte  Jesu,  §  22  ff.;  O.  Holtzniann,  Leben  Jesu,  cap.  iv. 
[Eng.  tr.  p.  81  ff.);  P.  Lobstein,  The  Virgin-Birth  of  Christ, 
1903 ;  Cheyne,  Bible  Problems,  1904.  A.  PlUMMEE. 

ANOINTING I.  In  the  ancient  world,  Jewish 

and  pagan  alike,  it  was  customary  to  refresh  guests 
at  banquets  by  pouring  cool  and  fragrant  ointment 
on  their  heads.  Cf.  Mart.  iii.  12 ;  Ps  23=,  where 
Cheyne  gives  an  Egyptian  illustration  :  '  Every  rich 
man  had  in  his  household  an  anointer,  who  had  to 
place  a  cone  of  ointment  on  the  head  of  his  master, 
where  it  remained  during  the  feast.'  There  are 
two  instances  of  the  usage  in  the  Gospel  history  : 

1.  The  anointing  in  the  house  of  Simon  the 
Pharisee  (Lk  1^-^). — Impressed  by  the  fame  of 
Jesus  and  desirous  of  closer  acquaintance  with 
one  who  was  certainly  a  prophet,  perhaps  more,* 
Simon  bade  Him  to  his  table,  inviting  also  a  party 
of  his  friends.  He  was  a  Pharisee  of  the  better 
sort,  yet  he  shared  the  pride  of  his  order  and  put 
a  difference  betwixt  Jesus  and  the  other  guests, 
withholding  from  Him  the  customary  courtesies : 
the  kiss  of  welcome,  the  ablution  of  the  feet,  the 
anointing  of  the  head.  In  the  course  of  the  meal 
a  woman  appeared  in  the  room,  wearing  her  hair 
loose,  which  in  Jewish  society  was  the  token  of  a 
harlot.t  What  did  she  in  a  Pharisee's  house? 
She  had  come,  a  sorrowful  penitent,  in  quest  of 
Jesus ;  and  she  brought  an  offering,  an  alabaster 
vase  of  ointment.  As  He  reclined  at  table,  she 
stole  to  His  couch  and,  stooping  over  His  feet, 
rained  hot  tears  upon  them,  wiped  them  with  her 
fio«ing  tresses,  kissed  them,  and  anointed  them 
with  the  ointment.  She  should  have  poured  it  on 
His  head,  but  she  durst  not.J 

2.  T/ir  loitiintinfi  in  the  house  of  Simon  the  Leper 
I. Ill  li"  "  Mk  143-»=Mt  26''-'2).— On  His  way  ^p 
In  til.'  Ill  I 'ussover,  Jesus  stopped  at  the  village 
ul  l;.  ili.iiiy,  where,  a  few  weeks  before.  He  had 
lai.-ud  L:i/,;inis  ;  and,  in  defiance  of  the  Sanhedrin's 
edict  (Jn  IF"),  He  was  received  with  grateful  rever- 
ence. One  of  the  principal  men  of  the  village, 
named  Simon,  made  a  banquet  in  His  honour. 
He  had  been  a  leper,  and,  if  he  had  been  healed 
by  Jesus,  it  was  fitting  that  his  house  should  be 

*  According  to  the  v.l.  i  ^pt^irr,!  in  v.so,  Simon  thought  Jesus 
might  be  the  prophet  who  should  arise  and  herald  the  Messiah. 
Cf.  Jnl2'-25  6"7«i. 

\  See  Lightfoot  on  Jn  123. 

J  Orig.  in  Uatth.  Comm.  Ser.  §  77  :  '  Non  fuit  ansa  ad  caput 
Christi  venire  sed  lacrymis  pedes  ejus  lavit,  quasi  vix  etiani 
ipsis  pedibus  ejus  digna.' 


the  scene  of  the  banquet.*  But  it  was  a  public 
tribute,  and  others  bore  a  part  in  it.  Lazarus  was 
present,  and  the  good  housewife  Martha  managed 
the  entertainment.  And  what  part  did  Mary 
take  ?  She  entered  the  room  with  her  hair  loose 
and  an  alabaster  vase  of  precious  ointment  in  her 
hand,  and,  approaching  the  Lord's  couch,  poured 
the  ointment  over  His  feet  and  wiped  them  with 
her  hair.     See  Maev. 

There  are  several  points  of  difference  between  John's  and 
Matthew-Mark's  accounts  of  the  anointing :  (1)  Matthew  and 
Mark  say  that  it  happened  in  the  house  of  Simon  the  Leper, 


)  put  the  incident  two  day8(Mt  26- =  Mk  141),  whereas 


Lord's  feet  but  on  His  head,  and  say  nothing  of  her  wiping  His 
feet  with  her  hair.  On  the  ground  of  these  discrepancies  it 
was  generally  maintained  by  the  Fathers  that  there  \ 


who  apparently  identified  the  anointing  in  the  house  of  Simon 
the  Leper  (Mt.-Mk.)  with  that  in  the  house  of  Simon  the  Pharisee 
ILk.).  Origen  (in  Matth.  Comm.  Ser.  §  77)  held  that  therewere 
in  all  three  anointings :  (a)  in  the  house  of  Simon  the  Leper 
(Mt.-.Mk.);  (6)  in  the  house  of  Simon  the  Pharisee  (Lk.);  (c)at 
Bethany  by  Mary  (Jn.) ;  mentioning  also  the  opinion  that  there 
were  four,  Matthew  and  Mark  recording  distinct  incidents. 

Nowadays  the  tendency  is  rather  to  ignore  the  differences 
and  identify  all  the  narratives,  reducing  them  to  one.  The 
Matthew-Mark  narrative  is  regarded  as  authentic,  the  Lukan 
and  Johannine  narratives  being  adaptations  thereof  (Strauss, 
Ewald,  Keim).  Even  in  Origen  s  day  a  similar  view  prevailed  : 
'  multi  quidem  existimant  de  una  eademque  muliere  quatuor 
Evangelistas  exposuisse.' 

It  hardly  admits  of  reasonable  doubt  that  there  were  two 
anointings,  one  in  the  house  of  Simon  the  Pharisee,  and  the 
other  by  Mary  in  the  house  of  Simon  the  Leper  at  Bethany.t 
The  discrepancies  in  the  triple  account  of  the  latter  are  not 
inexplicable.    (1)  Matthew-Mark's  omission  of  the  names  of 


and 


ardin 


handle  the  material 

topically  rather  than  chronologically 

story  into   juxtaposif 


revenge. 


gelic  tradition, 
Jlv.    They  have  orougnt  t 
betrayal  (Mt  2614-M  =  1 


1  the  traitor's  action. 


manner  of  the  anointing  is  an  instance  of  John's  habit  of  tacitly 
correcting  his  predecessors.  His  account  is  historical,  and  it 
would  stand  so  in  the  Apostolic  tradition ;  but  the  Synoptic 
editors  or,  more  probably,  the  catechiscrs  in  their  oral  repetition 
of  the  tradition,  wondering,  since  they  did  not  know  who  the 
woman  was,  at  the  strangeness  of  her  action,  substituted  '  head ' 
for  '  feet,*  and  then  omitted  the  unintelligible  circumstance  of 
her  wiping  His  feet  with  her  hair.    See  JIary. 

LiTER-iTURE.— Andrews,  Life  of  our  Lord,  pp. 
say.  Was  Christ  Born  at  Bethlehem!  pp.  91-92  ; 
articles  'Anointing'  and  '  .Mary  ' ;  Expositor,  Isl 


Hastings'  DB, 
I  scr.  vi.  [1877] 

-' 7  of  the 


Hui 


ii-ber 


David  S.mith. 

II.  Besides  the  two  special  incidents  already 
described,  some  other  references  to  'anointing' 
may  be  briefly  dealt  with. 

1.  In  Mt  6"  Jesus  tells  His  disciples  that  when 
they  fast  they  are  to  anoint  {a\d(f>ui)  the  head  as 
usual.  The  allusion  is  to  that  daily  use  of  oil, 
as  an  application  soothing  and  refreshing  to  the 
skin,  which  is  common  in  hot  countries,  and  was 
regularly  practised  by  the  Jews.  The  meaning  of 
Jesus  is  that  His  disciples,  when  they  feel  it  right 
to  fast,  should  undertake  the  observance  as  in  the 
sight  of  God,  and  not  ostentatiously  parade  their 
performance  of  it  before  the  eyes  of  men.  They 
should  wash  and  anoint  themselves  as  usual,  and 
not  draw  attention  by  any  peculiarities  of  outward 
appearance  to  a  matter  lying  between  themselves 
and  their  heavenly  Father. 

*  I., I  ml.  WIS  nnl   Ihf  host,  but  One  of  the  guests  (Jn  122). 

Thi-  II  ■    ■:  Mini  !ii^  hnuse  was  the  scene  of  the  banquet  has 

o.ra--;  I     ,,..     :,ii,i-   ;ibout  Simon.    Theophylact  mentions 

thi- 1  I  III.  ii  In  u,^  Lazarus' father,  lately  deceased  (Ewald). 


ANSWERS 


APOCALYPTIC  LITERATURE 


2.  In  Mk  6'2  we  read  of  the  Twelve  on  their 
evangelistic  mission,  tliat  they  '  anointed  {d\el(poj) 
with  oil  many  that  were  sick,  and  healed  them.' 
The  employment  of  oil  as  a  medicinal  agent  was 
familiar  in  tlie  time  of  Christ  (cf.  Lk  lO^'',  Ja  5"), 
and   is   doubtless  referro.l   to    here;    thoiish    the 

natural  virtues  of  the  oil  \mic.m' piiiiii'il  in  Ihis 

case  by  miraculous  powi'i:  ni  Ik  ,iliii;j.  In -In  i^'' " 
Jesus,  before  working  ihr  niiuilr,  u|iiin  Ihr  liliiid 
man,  anoints  (e7r<xp(w)  hi:,  t-ycs  witli  clay  wliich  lie 
had  made  by  spitting  on  the  ground.  Here,  also, 
the  anointing  may  have  had  a  medicinal  aspect 
(see  Meyer  and  Expositor's  Gr.  Test,  in  loc.  on  the 
ancient  belief  that  both  spittle  and  clay  were 
beneficial  to  the  eyes) ;  though,  of  course,  it  is  the 
miraculous  agency  of  Jesus  that  is  paramount  in 
the  narrative.  In  Rev  3'*  Jesus  says  to  the  Church 
of  the  Laodiceans,  ' .  .  .  and  anoint  thine  eyes 
with  eyesalve,  that  thou  niayest  see,'  where  the 
eft'ect  of  tlie  application  of  collyrium  is  used  as  a 
figure  of  the  healing  and  enlightenment  which  are 
found  in  the  grace  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ. 

3.  In  Mk  14*  Jesus  says  of  the  gracious  act  of 
Mary  of  Bethany  in  anointing  Him  at  the  feast, 
'  Slie  hath  anointed  (iJ-vpl^a  fr.  ixipov  = '  ointment ' ; 
probably  akin  to  /jiijpf>a= '  myrrh ')  my  body  afore- 
hand  for  the  burying'  (ef.  Jn  12').  And  in  Mk  16' 
we  read  how  Mary  Magdalene  and  tlie  other  women 
went  to  the  sepulchre  to  anoint  {d\el<pw)  the  dead 
body  of  the  Saviour  (cf.  Lk  23=",  Jn  19»«).  This 
application  of  ointments  and  spices  (cf.  Lk  24') 
was  an  expression  of  reverence  and  affection  for 
the  departed,  and  may  be  compared  with  the 
modern  custom  of  surrounding  the  beloved  dead 
with  fragrant  and  beautiful  flowers.  These  un- 
guents were  not  used  for  the  purpose  of  embalming 
the  dead,  as  among  the  Egyptians,  but  were  only 
outwardly  applied,  and  did  not  prevent  decomposi- 
tion (cf.  Jn  IP"). 

i.  When  Jesus  in  the  synagogue  at  Nazareth 
read  from  Is 61  the  prophetic  words,  'The  Spirit  of 
the  Lord  is  upon  me,  because  he  anointed  (xp'w)  nie 
to  preach  good  tidings  to  the  poor  .  .  .'  (Lk  4'*), 
and  went  on  to  say,  after  closing  the  book,  '  To- 
day hath  this  scripture  been  fulfilled  in  your  ears' 
(v.^'),  He  definitely  claimed  to  be  set  apart  to  the 
Messianic  calling.  In  the  OT  anointing  was  the 
symbol  of  consecration  alike  in  the  case  of  prophet 
(i  K  19"=),  priest  (Lv  8'=),  and  king  (1  S  10').  And 
in  the  case  of  Jesus,  who  to  His  people  is  at  once 
prophet,  priest,  and  king,  a  spiritual  anointing  is 
distinctly  affirmed  by  His  Evangelists  and  Ajiostles 
as  well  as  claimed  by  Himself  (cf.  Ac  4-'  10^",  He 
1').  The  Hebrew  word  'Messiah'  (ovd  from  ntaa 
'  to  anoint ')  means '  the  anointed  one ' ;  and  of  this 
word  'Christ'  is  the  Greek  equivalent  (xpiffrfs, 
from  x/>'w,  'to  anoint,'  being  employed  in  LXX  to 
render  n-KJo). 

5.  In  1  Jn  2™  the  Apostle  writes,  'And  ye  have 
an  anointing  (xpIo-M")  from  the  Holy  One,  and  ye 
know  all  things' (so  RV  ;  AV  renders  'unction'). 
Again,  in  v."  he  says,  '  And  as  for  you,  the  anoint- 
ing {xplirna)  which  ye  received  of  him  abideth  in 
you.  .  .  .  '  (here  AV  as  well  as  K V  gives  '  anoint- 
ing'). That  the  'Holy  One'  of  this  passage  is 
Christ  Himself,  and  that  the  '  anointing '  He  dis- 
penses is  the  bestowal  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  is  held 
by  nearly  all  commentators.  Being  Himself  an- 
ointed with  the  Holy  Ghost  (Ac  10'*),  the  Christ 
has  power  to  impart  the  same  gift  to  His  disciples. 
Indeed,  the  bestowal  of  this  gift  is  constantly 
represented  as  His  peculiar  function   (cf.  Jn  15^" 

16V.  13-15_  Ac  233). 

LiTKRATURE.— H.  B.  Swete,  E.  P.  Gould,  A.  F.  Hort,  and  esp. 
E.  H.  Plumptre  on  Mk  613 ;  also  A.  Plummer,  and  C.  Watson  on 

1  J"  --»■  J.  C.  Lambert. 

ANSWERS.— See  Question.s  and  Answers. 


ANTIPAS.— See  Herod,  No.  2. 
ANTONIA  (Tower  of).— See  Temple. 
ANXIETY.— See  Care. 

APOCALYPTIC  LITERATURE.— 

i.  Name  and  Nature, 
ii.  Origin  and  Historj'. 
iii.  The  Apocalypses. 

1.  The  Etliiopic  Enoch. 

2.  The  Slavonic  Enoch. 

3.  The  Sibylline  Oracles. 

4.  The  Assumption  of  Moses. 

5.  Fourth  Esdras. 

6.  The  Syriac  Baruch. 

7.  The  Greek  Baruch. 

8.  The  Psalter  of  Solomon. 

9.  The  Testaments  of  the  XII  Patriarchs. 

10.  The  Book  of  Jubilees. 

11.  The  Ascension  of  Isaiah. 

12.  The  Histories  of  Adam  and  Eve. 

13.  The  Apocalypse  of  Abraham. 

14.  The  Apocalypse  of  Ellas. 

15.  The  Apocalypse  of  Zephaniah. 

16.  Anonymous  Apocalypse. 

17.  The  Prayer  of  Joseph. 

18.  The  Book  of  Eldad  and  Modad. 
iv.  General  Characteristics. 

1.  The  Vision  Form. 

2.  Dualism. 

3.  Symbolism. 

4.  Angelology. 

6.  The  Unknown  as  subject-matter. 
a.  Pseudonymity. 

7.  Optimism. 
v.  Theological  Ideas. 

1.  The  Doctrine  ol  the  two  ^ons. 

2.  The  Impending  Crisis. 

3.  The  Conception  of  God. 

4.  Complex  Cosmology. 

5.  Arch-enemy  of  God. 

6.  Doctrine  of  Man. 

7.  Doctrine  of  Sin, 

8.  The  coming  Messiah. 

9.  The  Resurrection. 

10.  The  Judgment. 

11.  Punishment  uf  the  Wicked. 

12.  The  Reward  of  tlie  Righteous. 

13.  The  Renovation  of  the  World. 

14.  Predestination. 

vi.  Contact  with  the  New  Testament. 

1.  Apocalyptic  Forms  in  the  New  Testament. 

2.  Current  Phraseology  ;  Son  of  Man,  etc. 

3.  Quotations. 


i.  Name  and  Nature.— The  term  'apocalypse' 
(dTTo/cdXi/i/'is  from  d-KOKoKvTrTui,  to  uncover)  signifies 
in  the  first  place  the  act  of  uncovering,  and  thus 
bringing  into  sight  that  which  was  before  unseen, 
hence  '  revelation.'  It  is  predominantly  a  NT  word. 
It  occurs  rather  rarely  in  extra-biblical  Greek,  is 
used  only  once  in  the  canonical  portion  of  the  LXX 
(1  S  203»),  and  thrice  in  Sirach  (11"  22-  42'  [4r^]). 
In  the  NT  it  is  used  to  designate  the  disclosing  or 
communicating  of  knowledge  by  direct  Divine  act. 
The  gospel  is  an  apocalypse  to  the  nations  (Lk  2^-, 
Ro  16=*-  -").  St.  Paul  received  it  as  an  ajjocalypse 
(Gal  1'=).  The  manifestation  of  Jesus  Christ  in 
glory  is  an  apocalypse  (Gal  2=,  2  Co  12'- ',  2  Th  1', 
1  Pl'-'3  4'3). 

An  apocalypse  is  thus  primarily  the  act  of  revela- 
tion ;  in  the  second  place  it  is  the  subject-matter 
revealed  ;  and  in  the  third  place  a  book  or  literary 
production  which  gives  an  account  of  re\elation, 
whether  real  or  alleged  (e.g.  'Tlic  Apocalypse  of 
St.  John  the  Divine').  As  a  ni.ntri-  ,,f  lii-l..ry,  the 
form  in  which  the  revelation  ]iiii|inii  .  i..  .unie  is 
of  the  utmost  importance  in  ilctn mliiiii-  i  he  ques- 
tion whether  a  writing  shoul.  I  !»' ,;ill,'(l  .111  apoca- 
lypse or  not.  In  grii.ra],  iIm-  lorm  is  like  the 
drawing  of  the  veil  liom  I,.  i,,ic  .a  picture,  the 
result  of  which  action  pn,,  m^,  h.  the  eyeadehmte 
image.  All  impartin-  of  Diviin;  tiutli  is  revela- 
tion; but  it  is  not  all  given  in  the  apocalyptic 
form,  i.e.  it  does  not  all  come  in  grand  imagery,  as 
if  portrayed  on  canvas  or  enacted  in  scenic  repre- 


80      APOCALYPTIC  LITERATURE 


sentation.  Some  revelations  come  in  sub-conscious 
convictions.  Those  who  receive  tliera  do  not  feel 
called  ui3on  to  give  au  account  of  the  way  in 
which  they  have  received  tlieni.  In  fact  tliey  seem 
ignorant  of  the  method  of  communication  ;  they 
only  know  that  they  have  received  knowledge 
not  previously  possessed.  Apocalypse  and  revela- 
tion thus,  though  primarily  the  same  thing,  come 
to  be  distinguished  from  each  other. 

The  term  'apocalypse'  is  also  sometimes  used, 
with  an  ettort  at  greater  precision,  to  designate 
the  pictorial  portraiture  of  the  future  as  fore- 
shadowed by  the  seer.  When  so  employed  it  be- 
comes appropriate  only  as  the  title  of  certain  pas- 
sages in  oooks  otherwise  not  to  be  called  apoca- 
lypses (so  Bousset  in  Herzog-Hauck,  PBE,  s.v.,  who 
enumerates  the  following  passages  :  Dn  2^-'- ;  Etii. 
En  8»-91.  37-71  ;  Ps-Sol  2.  17.  18  ;  the  Assumption 
of  Moses ;  Slav.  En.  ;  4  Ezra  ;  Syr.  Bar.  ;  Sibyl. 
Orac.  iii.  286  to  the  end,  iii.  36-92,  iv.,  the  Jewish 
source  of  i.  and  ii.  ;  also  certain  sections  of  the 
Apoc.  John  and  2  Th  2^-'- ;  Mt  24  with  parallels). 

To  constitute  a  writing  an  apocalypse,  it  is  not 
necessary  that  the  author  should  "have  actually 
seen  or  experienced  what  he  portrays.  It  is  enough 
that  he  write  as  one  who  has  had  a  vision  and  is 
describing  it.  Thus  apocalypse  becomes  a  form 
of  literature  precisely  in  the  same  manner  as  an 
epistle.  Strictly  an  epistle  is  simply  a  letter  from 
one  person,  or  many  persons,  to  another,  or  others. 
But,  as  a  matter  of  usage,  it  has  often  been 
atlopted  as  a  form  into  which  men  have  chosen  to 
cast  their  thoughts  for  the  public.  The  same  is 
true  of  the  dialogue,  of  fiction,  and  many  other 
species  of  literature.  Such  forms  become  favourites 
in  certain  ages,  usually  after  some  outstanding 
character  has  made  successful  use  of  them.  The 
dialogue  became  fashionable  when  Plato  made  it 
such  a  telling  medium  for  the  teaching  of  his  philo- 
sophical system.  The  epistle  was  used  by  Horace, 
and  later  by  Seneca.  The  apocalypse  form  appears 
as  a  favourite  about  the  beginning  of  the  2nd 
cent.  B.C.  The  most  illustrious  specimen,  and 
l)erhaps  the  prototype  of  later  aix)calyptic  litera- 
ture, is  the  Book  of  Daniel. 

ii.  Origin  .vnd  History.— The  question  has 
been  mooted  as  to  the  earlier  antecedents  of  the 
apocalyptic  form.  Its  ultimate  source  has  been 
traced  variously  to  Egypt,  Greece,  Babylonia,  and 
Persia.  In  view  of  the  fact,  however,  that  the 
Hebrew  prophets  frequently  incorporate  visions 
into  their  writings  (Is  6,  Jer  24'-',  Ezk  l-  ,  I-  •24-j:  i. 
it  is  scarcely  necessary  to  go  outside  •■!  I-n.I  in 
search  for  its  origins.  Nevertheless.  iIj  •  1.  ii:  n 
the  Babylonians,  the  Egyptians,  ami  thr  Ci  i  k~ 
had  their  apocalyptics.  And  it  would  be  u  mi-take 
to  ignore  the  influence  especially  of  Persian  forms 
during  the  period  of  the  formation  of  Jewi>li  apoea- 
Ij'ptics.  This  was  the  very  period  when  Jewisli 
forms  came  most  directly  into  touch  with  Persian. 
In  any  case,  much  of  the  material  of  tlie  Jewish 
apocalypse  has  been  adopted  and  naturalized  from 
Persia  (cf.  P.ou<set,  Pi>^  .//»/.  Apukali/pti/:,  1903; 
Gunkel,  Sc/e7.^/'"7  ".  '/,„„,■,  1895).  Apocalyptic 
literature  in  ij.  n.  lal  1,,  jns  before  Christ.  Soon 
after  the  Chri-uau  c  ra  ii  develops  into  the  two 
naturally  distiuet  luiiuo  uf  Christian  and  neo- 
Hebraic.  Hence  we  may  distinguish  three  classes 
of  apocalypses: — (1)  The  earlier  Jewish  ones,  or 
those  which  were  published  from  B.C.2()0to  A.ix  100. 
Within  this  class,  however,  may  be  included  also 
such  writings  as  proceed  irom  Jewish  sources 
purely,  though  not  written  until  half  a  century, 
more  or  less,  later  than  the  last  limit  of  the  [jeriod. 
(2)  Christian  apocalypses,  including  the  canonical 
l)Ook  known  as  the  Aixxialypse  (Revelation  of  St. 
John),  and  a  series  of  ajmcryphal  imitations. 
These  are  mostly  pseudonymous,  but  include  au 


APOCALYPTIC  LITERATURE 


occasional  work  in  which  the  author  does  not  con- 
ceal his  name  behind  that  of  an  apostle  or  older 
prophet  {T/w  Shepherd  of  Hernias).  Apocalypses 
of  this  class  pass  into  Patristics  and  culminate  in 
Dante's  immortal  Commedia.  (3)  The  neo-Hebraic 
apocalj'pses,  beginning  with  the  predominance  of 
the  Talmuil  (especially  the  Babylonian)  and  in- 
cluding a  series  of  revelations  to  the  great  Rabbis 
(TAc  Ecvdathn  of  R.  Joshua  b.  Levi,  The  Alpha- 
hets  of  Ii.  Akiba,  The  Hebrew  Elijah  Apocalupsc, 
The  Apocalypse  of  Zerubbabel,  The  Wars  of  King 
Messiah,  The  Revelations  of  R.  Simon  b.  Yohai, 
The  Prayer  of  R.  Simon  b.  Yohai,  and  the  Persian 
Apocalypse  of  Daniel). 

It  would  be  somewhat  beside  the  purpose  of  this 
article  to  do  more  than  sketch  the  hrst  of  these 
three  classes  of  apocals'pses.  On  the  other  hand, 
as  Christ  emerged  in  history  at  a  definite  period 
and  in  a  definite  environment,  and  as  in  this  en- 
vironment nothing  is  more  conspicuous  and  potent 
than  the  early  Jewish  apocalyptic  literature,  the 
importance  of  this  literature  cannot  be  overesti- 
mated. A  flood  of  light  is  shed  by  the  form  and 
content  of  these  writings  upon  His  life,  teaching, 
and  work.  Happily,  considerable  attention  has 
been  given  in  recent  years  to  this  as  a  field  of 
investigation,  and  some  definite  results  may  be 
registered. 

iii.  The  Apoc.vlypses.  —  Of  the  earlier  Jewish 
apocalypse,  the  canonical  Daniel  forms  the  proto- 
type. The  proper  place,  however,  for  a  particular 
treatment  of  Daniel  is  conventionally  the  sphere 
of  Old  Testament  Introduction  (see  art.  '  Daniel ' 
in  Hastings'  DB  vol.  i.).  Our  list  will  begin  with 
the  Books  of  Enoch. 

1.  The  Ethiopic  Enoch. — The  adjective '  Ethiopic ' 
has  been  attached  to  the  title  of  this  work  because 
of  another  Book  of  Enoch  discovered  in  a  Slavonic 
version.  Outside  the  canonical  Daniel,  this  is  the 
be-it  known  of  tlie  apocalypses,  because  of  the  quo- 
tati  Ml  iiMiii  11  ill  .lude''"-.  TertuUian  knows  it, 
l"li'  \  -  ,  Hi  11 .  l:^  iiuineness,  and  attempts  to  account 
fur  11-  iiaji-iui-uiii  through  and  survival  under  the 
vici>5iLuile5  ui  tlie  Flood.  It  appears  to  have  been 
neglected,  however,  through  the  Jliddle  Ages,  and 
lost  until  1773,  when  two  SiS  copies  of  an  Ethiopic 
version  of  it  were  brought  from  Abyssinia  by 
J.  Bruce.  A  translation  of  one  of  these  was  made 
bj'  Lawrence,  and  published  in  1821.  But  its  full 
importance  and  significance  came  to  be  realized 
only  with  Dillmanu's  critical  edition  of  the  Ethiopic 
text  in  1851,  which  was  followed  in  1853  by  a 
thorough  German  translation  and  commentary. 
A  portion  of  the  Greek  te.xt  was  discovered  m 
18S(>-7,  and  edited  by  H.  B.  Swete. 

Contents. — As  it  stands  to-day,  the  Book  of 
Enoeli  can  be  subdivided  into  five  main  i^arts  with 
an  introduction  and  a  conclusion,  as  follows :  In- 
troductory Discourse,  in  which  the  author  an- 
nouiu'es  his  parable,  and  formally  asks  attention 
to  the  important  matters  which  he  is  about  to 
divulge  (1-5). 

(«)  The  first  section  is  concerned  with  Anqelology 
(6-36),  beginning  with  the  report  of  the  fall  of  two 
hundred  angels  who  were  enticed  by  the  beauty  of 
the  daughters  of  men,  and  left  heaven  in  order  to 
take  them  for  wives.  Out  of  these  unions  sprang 
giants  3000  cubits  in  height.  The  fallen  angels, 
moreover,  taught  men  all  manner  of  secrets  where- 
by they  were  Ted  into  sin.  When  the  giants  had 
consumed  all  the  possessions  of  men,  they  turned 
against  the  men  themselves  and  smote  them  until 
their  cry  went  up  to  heaven.  Ringleaders  of  the 
angels  are  Azazel and  Semjiza  (6-9).  Through  the 
intercession  of  the  four  archangels,  Michael,  Uriel, 
llaphael,  and  Gabriel,  God  is  moved  to  arrest 
bloodshed  upon  earth.  He  sends  Uriel  to  Xoah 
to  tell  him  that  He  has  determineil  to  destroy  the 


APOCALYPTIC  LITERATURE 


APOCALYPTIC  LITERATURE      81 


world.  He  commamls  Raphael  to  bind  Azazel  and 
throw  him  into  a  pit  in  the  wilderness,  where  he 
shall  remain  until  the  day  of  the  great  judgment, 
and  then  be  cast  into  the  lire.  He  commands 
Gabriel  to  rouse  the  giants  against  each  other ; 
and,  finally,  he  commands  Michael  to  announce  to 
Semjaza  the  sentence  of  punishment,  which  is, 
that  the  fallen  angels  sliall  be  kept  enchained  and 
imprisoned  under  the  hills  of  the  earth,  waiting 
the  last  judgment,  when  they  shall  be  cast  into 
the  fire  (10).  After  the  destruction  of  all  impiety 
upon  earth,  the  righteous  shall  Hourish  and  live 
long,  the  earth  shall  yield  abundantly,  all  people 
shall  pray  to  God,  and  all  evil  shall  be  banished 
from  the  earth  (U).  The  sentence  upon  the  fallen 
angels  is  communicated  to  Enoch  (12),  and  he 
reveals  it  to  them  ;  but,  at  their  urgent  request, 
he  composes  a  petition  on  their  behalf,  that  they 
might  obtain  forgiveness ;  while  rehearsing  this, 
preparatory  to  presenting  it,  he  falls  asleep  anrl  is 
informed  in  a  dream  that  their  request  for  forgive- 
ness will  not  be  granted,  and  once  more  makes 
known  to  the  angels  their  impending  doom  (13-16). 
Enoch  tells  of  a  journey  in  which  he  learned  of  the 
places  where  thunders  and  lightnings  originate, 
and  saw  the  stream  of  Hades,  tne  corner-stone  and 
the  pillars  of  the  world,  the  seven  mountains  of 
precious  stones,  and  the  places  of  punishment  of 
the  disobedient  angels,  i.e.  the  stars  (17-19).  He 
gives  the  names  and  functions  of  the  si.\  (seven) 
archangels  (20).  He  once  more  visits  the  place  of 
punishment  of  the  condemned  angels,  and  the 
nether  world  (21),  consisting  of  four  parts  (22). 
He  travels  to  the  West  (23-2.5).  From  there  he 
returns  to  the  city  of  Jerusalem,  which  is  the 
centre  of  the  eartii  (26.  27) ;  then  he  travels  to 
the  East  (28-33),  to  the  North  (34.  35),  and,  lastly, 
to  the  South  (36). 

_  (b)  The  second  section  is  C'hrist.olor/ical,  and  con- 
sists of  chs.  37-71,  subdivided  into  three  Simili- 
tudes. A  short  introductory  discourse  (37)  is  fol- 
lowed by  the  first  Similitude,  including  chs.  38-44. 
The  appearance  of  the  Messiah,  the  righteous  One, 
brings  an  end  of  sinners  upon  earth  (38).  Enoch 
is  carried  by  storm-clouds  to  the  end  of  heaven, 
and  there  beholds  the  pre-existing  Kingdom  of 
God,  the  dwellings  of  the  righteous  and  the  elect, 
and  of  angels  and  archangels  (39.  40).  He  then 
sees  the  weighing  of  men's  actions  in  the  balance, 
the  rejection  of  sinners,  the  places  prepared  for  the 
righteous,  and  certain  physical  mysteries  (light- 
nings, thunders,  winds,  hail,  mist,  clouds,  sun  and 
moon,  41),  also  the  place  of  AVisdom  in  heaven  (42), 
and,  finally,  some  more  physical  mysteries  (43.  44). 
The  second  Similitude  includes  chs.  45-57.  It 
begins  with  the  Messianic  Judgment  (45).  Enoch 
sees  the  Son  of  Man  beside  the  Head  of  Days  (46). 
An  angel  explains  the  vision  (47,  the  Son  of  Man 
will  overthrow  and  judge  the  kings  and  mighty 
ones  of  the  ungodly).  The  task  of  the  pre-existing 
Son  of  Man  is  outlined  (48.  49),  and  the  happy  con- 
sequences of  the  judgment  for  the  pious,  together 
with  the  punishments  of  the  wicked,  and  the  resur- 
rection of  those  who  have  died  in  righteousness 
(50.  51).  In  a  vision  of  six  mountains  of  metal 
which  pass  away,  the  destruction  of  the  heathen 
world  by  the  Messiah  is  portrayed.  The  heatlien 
world  endeavours  through  ollerings  to  propitiate 
God,  but  fails.  The  angels  of  punishment  go  forth 
to  do  their  work.  The  synagogue  service  may  now 
be  carried  on  unhindered  (52-54"^).  An  account  of 
the  coming  Hood  and  its  occasion  is  inserted  (54'- 
55-),  and  is  followed  by  the  final  assault  of  the 
heathen  world-power  (b??-'^)  and  the  return  of  the 
dispersed  Jews  (57).  The  third  Similitude  com- 
prises chs.  ,58-69,  to  which  chs.  70  and  71  are  added 
by  way  of  an  appendix.  It  begins  with  the  picture 
of  the  blessedness  of  the  righteous  in  heaven  (58)  : 


an  account  of  the  mystery  of  lightning  and  thunder 
follows  (59).  A  vision  of  Noah,  an  account  of 
Leviathan  and  Behemoth,  and  various  nature- 
elements  which  take  part  in  the  Flood  are  then  given 
(60).  The  judgment  of  the  Son  of  Man  over  the 
angels  in  heaven,  and  the  sentence  of  kings  by  Him, 
followed  by  vain  pleas  on  their  part  for  mercy,  are 
given  next  (61-64).  Then  comes  the  revelation  to 
Noah  of  the  fall  of  the  angels,  the  Flood,  his  own 
preservation,  the  punishment  of  the  angels,  and 
the  judgment  of  men  by  the  Son  of  Man  (65-69). 
Enoch's  translation  to  Paradise,  his  ascension  to 
heaven,  and  his  acceptance  by  the  Son  of  Man,  are 
then  given  in  the  appendix  (70,  71). 

((■)  The  third  section  is  Cosmological,  and  consists 
of  chs.  72-82.  It  has  been  called  the  '  Book  of  the 
Luminaries  of  Heaven.'  It  contains  a  revelation 
given  by  the  angel  Uriel  on  all  sorts  of  astronomi- 
cal and  geographical  matters,  among  others  on  the 
convulsions  that  will  occur  during  the  period  of 
the  wicked  upon  earth.  The  course  of  the  sun  is 
first  described  (72),  next  the  course  of  the  moon 
(73.  74)  ;  untoward  days  (75) ;  the  winds  (76) ;  the 
four  quarters  of  heaven  (77) ;  further  details  re- 
garding the  rising  and  setting  of  the  sun  (78.  79), 
changes  in  the  order  of  things  to  come  in  the  last 
days  (80),  and  the  return  of  Enoch  to  the  earth  ; 
and  the  committal  of  these  matters  to  Methu.saleh 
(81.  82). 

{d)  The  fourth  section  is  a  Historical  forecast. 
Enoch  narrates  to  his  son  Methusaleh  two  visions 
which  he  saw  before  he  had  taken  a  wife  to  him- 
self. The  first  of  these  (83.  84)  came  to  him  as  he 
was  learning  to  write.  It  placed  before  his  eyes 
the  picture  of  the  Deluge.  The  second  vision 
(85-90)  unfolded  before  him  the  whole  history  of 
Israel  from  the  creation  of  man  to  the  end  of  time. 
The  children  of  Israel  appeared  in  this  vision  in 
the  forms  of  the  clean  animals  (bulls,  sheep,  lambs, 
and  goats).  Their  enemies  were  in  the  form  of 
dogs,  foxes,  swine,  and  all  manner  of  birds  of  prey. 
In  the  conflict  between  the  clean  and  unclean,  the 
struggle  of  Israel  against  her  enemies  was  por- 
trayed. The  chosen  people  were  delivered  into 
the  hands  of  lions,  tigers,  wolves,  and  jackals 
(the  Assyrians  and  Babylonians)  ;  then  they  were 
put  under  the  care  of  seventy  shepherds  (angels). 
(From  this  fact  this  section  oi  the  Iwok  takes  the 
title  of  'Vision  of  the  Seventy  Shepherds').  The 
shepherds  allowed  more  of  the  faithful  to  perish 
than  was  the  will  of  God,  but  at  the  critical 
moment  there  appeared  a  white  lamb  in  their 
midst  and  entered  into  a  fierce  combat  with  the 
birds  of  prey,  while  a  heavenly  being  gave  him 
assistance.  Then  the  Lord  Himself  burst  forth 
from  heaven,  the  enemies  of  Israel  were  over- 
thrown and  exterminated,  the  judgment  ensued, 
and  the  universal  restoration ;  and  the  Messiah 
was  bom  as  a  white  bull. 

(e)  The  fifth  section  (91-105)  is  a  Book  of 
Exhortations.  Enoch  commands  his  son  Methu- 
saleh to  summon  to  his  side  all  his  other  sons, 
and  when  they  have  come  he  delivers  to  them 
an  address  on  righteousness,  which  is  especially 
designed  to  instruct  the  righteous  of  all  ages 
(91'-i').  In  this  first  discourse  is  inserted  the 
prediction  of  the  Ten  Weeks  (91'=-"  93).  Tlie 
remainder  of  the  book  (92.  94.  105)  is  taken  up  with 
final  encouragements  and  message  of  hope. 

The  conclusion  of  the  whole  Book  of  Enoch 
(106-108)  contains  an  account  of  the  marvels 
destined  to  accompany  the  birth  of  Noah  (106.  107), 
and  a  new  description  of  the  fiery  tribulations 
reserved  for  the  wicked  and  of  the  blessings  that 
await  those  who  '  loved  eternal  heaven  better 
than  their  own  lives  '  (108). 


S2       ArOCALYPTIC  LITERATURE 


APOCALYPTIC  LITERATURE 


f  s 


,  chb 


an  I  (  hioke  i  up  and  inserted  in  \irio 

pirt  t    o     The  \ork  of  redaction -v)  1811 » 

to  1  t    ojiii  ir    docun  cnts  had   indei 

gone  s  (  u     bh  ice  de  tal     The  redactor  i  <ie  i 

the  lost  ApOLil  psc  of  Noah  all  ided  to  in  Jubilees  (lin  "11") 
supplementing  what  he  decn  ed  to  1  c  lacunw     The  i  a  sages  ii 
serted  from  the  Book  of  Noal    aic  the  following      1      j    i 
6al  6925  and  106  lO"     To  these  soi  le  \  ould  a  id  se^elal  othei 
passages 

The  date  of  the  fil«t  of  these  documents  is  the  fiist  quarter  of 
the  "n  i  cent  B  (  )0  to  1  6)  that  of  the  Book  of  Similitudes 
offeis  an  as  let  unsol  ed  pioblem  whose  difficulty  is  somen  hat 
enh  mce  1  b\  the  imrortin  e  of  the  issue  in  ol  cd  i  e  the  rela 
tion  the  1  ool   s   stains  to    Y     \T      T       f     t    V  lation 

IS  undo  1 1  1  a  d  1  t  I  t    the 

per  ei  t  1    1  t  t  of 


as  a  bass  (HofT  am  A\  ei  se  Hil^enfel 
(6)  that  tl  o  ij,h  a  Te\  h  apocaljpse  and  i 
the  beg  nn  n^  of  the  Chiis' 


Chrs 


the  ] 


(Drummond   Stalker)     That  the  look  si  o  11  la  e 
posed  as  a  Je  \    h  apocah^pse  and  as  such  a  lo}  ted  th( 
title     Son  of  Man     fioin  the  Christian  C  os)  els    i 
thought  of      That  it  should  ha\e  1  een  or  "i  all 
apocahpse  and   i  olified  1\  a  Clr   ta      citl  er 
hand  or  b\  the  mechanical      t  r]  olat  n       f  tl  c     s 
passages  is  ciedible      Put  air        t     al  1    j     1 
wasapreCht  stanwork  in  I  th      s        i  \i 

It  has  been  demon  tratcd  1     P  11       i  1  I 

the  title  Sou  of  Man  occuisii  T 
the  name  of  the  "Messiah  (Das  S  I 
Words  of  Jcxus  p  '^34  f  )    ai  d  th  r 


.  Chr: 


[ithor 


the  ' 


Tl 


c  It  to  I     ate      tl  precsi  n  and  n 

Th  ori.  al  of  tl  e  1  ook  were  undoubtedl  Se  i  t  (H^bren 
or  An  )  Tie  fnt,nieit  of  the  Creek  lersio  re  entl  d 
co\eied  1  s  clear  e\idences  of  being  the  translat  r,n  of  a 
Semite  org  al  (the  case  is  ai„ued  conclusneh  bl  Charles 
Book  01  tt  cl  PI  21  2-'  325  andHale\y  Journal  Asiat  ISb  , 
pp   35"  395) 

Editou—{l)  Ethiopic  Te\t  Lawrence  (1838)  Dillmann 
(1851),  riemming(J'f:cft  n.  I  nlntuch.,  NeueFolge,  lu.  1,  1902). 
(2)  Greek  Fragments  ;  Bouriant  (1692),  Lods  (1S92),  Charles 
(1893),  Swete  (1S9T). 

(3)  7Van«?n(ioH>-.— English  :  Lawrence  (partial,  1S31),  Schodde 
(1882),  Charles  (1893).— German  :  Hoffniann(lS.-!3-lS3.s),  Dillmann 
(1853),  Flemming  and  Eadenuacher  (1901).— French  :  Lods  (the 
Greek  Fragments  onlv,  1892). 

Literature.— (See  Charles,  Book  nf  Eitneh.  pp.  9-Dl)  •  Liicke, 
Einl.  ind.  Offenb.  Johtt>i.(lS5t)\E\\!ild.  AUiaii'll.  iih.  ,1.  EI/i.B. 
HenocA (1855);  Hoffmann,  'I'b.d.  Entstehungszeitd.  B.  Henoch' 
in  ZDMG.  1852,  pp.  87-91  ;  Kostlin,  '  t'b.  d.  Entstehung  d.  B. 
Henoch  '  in  Theol.  Jahrb.  1856,  pp.  210-279,  370-386  ;  Geb- 
hardt,  '  Die  70  Hirten  d.  B.  Henoch  '  in  Merx'  Archiv,  vol.  ii. 
1872,  pp.  163-246  ;  Wieseler, '  Zur  Abfassungszeit  d.  B.  Henoch  ' 
in  ZDMG,  1882,  pp.  185-195  ;  Lawlor  in  Journ.  of  Philot.  1897, 
pp.  164-225  ;  Clemen,  '  Die  Ziisammensetzung  d.  B.  Henoch, 
etc'  in  SK,  1898,  pp.  210-227 ;  Stalker,  The  Christotogy  o/Jcsiis, 
1899,  App.  B,  pp.  269-294. 

2.  The  Slavonic  Enoch.— This  is  one  of  the  most 
recent  additions  to  our  f,Toiiii  of  .iiiocalypses.  Its 
existence  was  not  indeed  suspected  before  its  dis- 
covery. But  this  was  due  to  tlie  fact  tliat  a  num- 
ber of  book.s  were  attributed  to  Enoch.  In  this 
very  work  Enocli  is  said  to  liavc  written  366  ;  cf. 
23°  68'.  And  because  some  of  those  were  extant 
in  the  Ethiopic  book  no  one  thought  of  seeking  for 
more.  Nevcrtlieless,  it  was  no  source  of  surprise 
when  it  was  announced  tliat  a  new  Enoch  liad 
been  found.  This  came  fir.st  as  an  intimation  tliat 
a  copy  of  a  Slavonic  version  of  the  Ethiopic  Enoch 
was  in  existence  (Kozak  in  Jahrb.  f.  Prot.  Thcol. 
1892).  Prof.  Charles  started  to  investigate  tlie 
matter,  and  with  tlie  assistance  of  Mr.  ftlorliU 
procured  and  examined  printed  copies  of  the 
Slavonic  text  in  question.  The  result  was  the 
publication   of    the    altogether    independent    and 


!     1  inknnin    pseudcpigraph   (1896).      Prof. 

I  tie   fox    the  book  is   The  Book  of   the 
L)  n  h   but  It  is  likely  to  be  known  in 

1      b>    the    more   convenient   title,    The 
s  Enc  h  *  which  distinguishes  it  from  the 

1  ettei  1  no\\n  ind  older  Ethiopic  work. 

(  I  t  nt  — riie  book  may  be  divided  into  three 
1 11 1  \ii  ( 1 )  The  Ascension  of  Enoch  and  liis 
tit  1  m  tht  Se\en  Heavens  (1-38).  (2)  The  Return 
ml  111  tl  1  tl  ns  to  hib  children  (39-56).  (3)  Second 
S  II  1  111  tiuctions  including  in  his  audience  an 
1  iiilli^L  tf  2U00  people,  and  final  a-ssumption 
(oT  bS) 

(a)  Chs  1  SS  The  book  opens  with  a  short  pro- 
logue, intioducing  the  personality  of  Enoch,  and 
givins  the  tune  ind  place  of  a  dream  he  saw  (1). 
Enoch  then  wains  his  children  of  his  impending 
absence  fiom  them  foi  %  time  (2)  ;  he  is  taken  by 
iw  o  angels  up  to  the  fiist  heaven  (3),  where  he  sees 
200  angels  who  guard  the  treasuries  of  the  snow, 
the  dew,  and  the  oil  (4-6).  He  is  next  taken  up 
into  the  second  heaven  and  beholds  and  converses 
V  ith  the  fallen  angels  (7).  In  the  third  heaven,  the 
1  iiadise  piepared  for  the  righteous  (8.  9),  he  is  led 
to  tlie  noithern  region  where  he  sees  the  jilaces  of 
toituie  (10)  From  thence  he  is  taken  up  into  the 
fouith  heaven  the  habitation  of  the  sun  and  moon, 
ind  theie  sees  the  phoenixes  and  chalkadris  {chalky- 
chir<!)  mysteuous  composite  beings  with  head.s  of 
ciocodiles  and  bodies  of  serpents  (11.  12).  In  the 
cistein  jioition  of  the  fourth  heaven  he  comes  to 
the  tates  of  the  sun  (13);  thence  he  is  led  to  the 
\  estein  legions  md  hears  a  song  by  the  phoenixes 
md  chalk\dues  (14  lo).  He  is  then  taken  to  the 
cistern  couise  and  hears  indescribable  music  by 
angels  ( 16  17)  Heie  his  visit  to  the  fourth  heaven 
ends  he  is  earned  to  the  fifth  heaven,  where  he 
sees  the  Gnqoii  or  ^^  atchers  (18).  In  the  sixth 
beaien  he  delays  only  a  short  time,  and  thence 
jisses  to  the  seienth  19.  20),  where  the  Lord  is 
seated  on  a  high  throne.  Here  the  ministering 
angels  who  ha\e  brought  him  take  their  departure; 
Enoch  falls  down  and  worshi^)S  the  Lord;  he  is 
strii  1  eel  of  his  earthly  clothing,  anointed,  and 
lobed  in  suitable  apparel ;  he  is  given  over  to 
Vretil  the  aichangel  (patron  of  literature),  to  be 
instructed  (21.  22).  Under  the  guidance  of  this 
archangel  he  writes  366  books  (23)  He  returns 
into  the  presence  of  the  Lord,  and  holds  direct  con- 
verse with  Him,  learning  the  secrets  of  creation 
(24-29-),  and  of  the  formation  of  10,000  angels  and 
the  fall  of  Satanail  (29^-=) ;  also  of  the  creation 
of  man,  i.e.  Adam  and  Eve  (30),  his  being  jilaced 
in  paradise,  his  fall  and  judgment  (31.  32).  God 
then  declares  His  purposes  for  the  future  (33.  34), 
and  sends  him  back  to  the  earth  to  stay  thirty  days 
longer  and  teach  his  children  the  true  knowledge 
of  God  (35-38). 

(b)  Chs.  39-56.  Enoch  now  begins  his  admoni- 
tions and  instructions  to  his  children  (39) ;  he  tells 
of  the  manner  in  which  he  was  given  his  visions, 
and  of  how  he  wrote  them  down  (40) ;  of  howr  lie 
wept  for  the  sins  of  Adam  (41) ;  of  his  visit  to  the 
gates  of  hell,  and  the  impression  produced  upon 
him  (42) ;  of  the  judgment  of  the  Lord  (43) ;  of  the 
duty  of  cliarity  (44) ;  of  the  superiority  of  a  contrite 
and  broken  heart  to  sacrifice  as  a  means  of  pleas- 
ing God  (45) ;  of  God's  love  of  purity  in  heart  and 
His  rejection  of  the  sacrifices  of  the  impure  (46) ; 
and  commends  his  writing  to  them  as  a  permanent 
means  of  knowing  God's  will  (47.  48).  He  further 
instructs  them  not  to  swear  by  heaven  or  the 
earth,  and  deprecates  ven''eance  (49.  50)  ;  he  urges 
them  til  be  generous  to  the  jioor,  not  Ut  hoard  up 
treasures  on  earth  (51),  to  praise  (iod,  and  to  be  at 
peace  with   men   (52).     He   enjoins   them   not  to 

•  Bousset  quotes  these  two  works  as  1  and  II  Enoch  respec- 
tively (Vic  Ttdiijwn  dcs  Judenthinns,  1903). 


APOCALYPTIC  LITERATURE 


APOCALYPTIC  LITERATURE   83 


trust  in  liis  own  intercession  witli  Ood,  but  to  sive 
heed  to  liis  writings  and  he  wise  (53) ;  aird  closes 
his  address  with  an  exhortation  to  circulate  his 
writings,  announcing  at  the  same  time  that  the 
hour  for  his  ascension  to  heaven  has  come  (54.  55). 

(r)  Chs.  56-67.  The  second  series  of  Exhorta- 
tions opens  with  a  request  by  Methosalera  for  a 
blessing  over  the  houses  and  children  of  Enoch 
(56) ;  Enoch  asks  Methosalera  to  call  his  brothers 
together  (57),  and  gives  them  his  instructions  (5S), 
especially  that  they  should  not  eat  the  Uesh  of 
cattle  (59),  nor  kill  any  man  through  'net,' 
'weapon,'  or  'tongue'  (60);  but  practise  right- 
eousness, and  trust  in  repentance  fur  tlif  fnlniv 
(61.  62),  and  not  despise  the  lininlil''  :<uA  thus 
incur  God's  curse  (6.3).  At  this  ii.ijut  Cud  i.ills 
Enoch  with  a  loud  voice,  and  'iUDU  persons  cuiiic 
together  to  give  him  their  greetings  (64)  ;  he 
delivers  his  final  exhortations  to  them,  ■which  are 
to  the  effect  that  they  should  fear  and  serve  the 
Jyord  (65.  66).  A  thick  darkness  covers  the  earth, 
and  while  it  lasts  Enoch  is  taken  up,  but  no  one 
knows  how  (67).  The  book  concludes  with  a 
summary  of  Enoch's  life  and  work,  and  an  account 
of  Methosalem's  building  an  altar  .upon  the  spot 
where  his  father  was  last  seen  before  his  ascension. 

TAfcrary  questions. — The  author  of  the  work  was  .th  Alex- 
andrian Jew.  This  is  raade  clear  by  the  attinities  of  liis  style 
and  thought  with  those  of  Philo,  his  use  of  the  LXX,  his  por- 
traiture of  phoenixes  and  chalkadris  (chalk.vdries),  and  his 
eyncretistic  rosmofjony.  The  date  of  composition  cannot  he 
later  than  a.d.  70.  The  temple  was  evidently  still  standinjc,  and 
sacrifice  was  offered  (592>.  But  the  Ethiopia  Enoch  was  also  in 
existence  (405  9,  cf.  also  435.  3  628  612  i). 

The  original  language  was  undoubtedly  Greek.  Tliia  is  proved 
by  the  explanation  of  the  name  Adam,  which  is  made  upon 


VPKTOS,  ME:SHMBI'I.\).  The  I 
Barnabas,  bv  the  author  of  tlic 
author  of  the  7Vste»ir  „(.<  „/  ih,  T 
the  many  Sibyls,  and  hv  IreiKtus, 

Editimu.—TIhe  Sla\onio  text  has 
manuscripts,  \'arying  more  or  less 
yet  fully  collated  (Popoff,  1880). 

rraiwiati'oiis.— English  :  Charles  and  Morflll,  The  Book  of  the 
Secrets  of  Enoch,  1896.— German  :  Bonwetsch,  '  Das  Slavische 
Henochbuoh'  in  Ahhandl.  d.  Gult.  Ges.  d.  Wiss.  (Phil. -hist. 
Klasse,  Neue  Folg.  1-3, 1896). 

LiTEKATCTRE.— Harnaok,  Gesch.  d.  Altchrist.  Litt.  ii.  1, 1897, 
p.  564;  Charles  in  Hastings'  DB,  1S98 ;  Volz,  JM.  Euehato- 
iogrte,  1903,  pp.  29,  30. 

3.  The  Sibylline  Oracles The  name  '  sibyl '  is 

of  uncertain  derivation.  Even  the  spelling  of  the 
word  varies  in  the  earliest  period.  It  is,  however, 
a  very  ancient  one,  and  occurs  as  early  as  in  the 
works  of  Heraclitus.  By  the  Romans  a  number 
(ten)  of  sibyls  were  disting\iished.  The  one  of 
Erythrae  in  Ionia  is  reckoned  the  oldest.  The 
sibyl  of  Curaoe  (Kyrae)  became  the  most  famous. 
Large  collections  of  verses  were  circulated  under 
her  name  during  the  latter  j^ears  of  the  common- 
wealth and  the  early  empire.  Sibylline  verses 
became  common  in  Egypt,  and  there  arose  a  so- 
called  Jewish  sibyl  simultaneously  with  the  ap- 
pearance of  the  spirit  of  proselytism  among  the 
Jews.  Finally,  a  Christian  sibyl  came  into  ex- 
istence in  succession  to  and  imitation  o£  the  Jewish 
one.  The  productions  of  the  Jewish  and  Christian 
sibyls  are  for  the  most  jiart  blended  into  one  body. 
They  constitute  a  compilation  of  hexameters  m 
twelve  Books,  besides  some  fragments.  Each  of 
these  is  evidently  independent  of  the  others,  and 
may  have  circulated  separately. 

Contents.— Book  I.  opens  with  an  account  of  the 
Creation,  based  upon  Geno<;is.  This  i^;  followed  by 
the  story  of  the  Fall,  tln'  iiiul(i|ili(  ;ii  ioji  of  man- 
kind, the  appearance  of  fom  ii'rr-i\ ..  races  down 
to  the  days  of  tlie  giaiil>,  iIm-  s|ui\  uf  Noah  and 
the  Flood,  a  sixth  race  and  the  Titaiis,  from  whom 
the  transition  is  made  to  Christ,  and  the  dispersion 
of  the  Jews.— Book  II.  predicts  a  time  of  plagues 
and  wickedness,  which  is  succeeded  by  the  tenth 


race  (the  Romans) 


peridil  of  peace.  After 
H,n  nitcriiniM.n.m  ni  .'i  -iiHip  <if  |iroverbs,  the  woes 
of  tlir  l:i-l  -rii,'i:iii,,i,.  -.n-  ]i(.ilrnyed,  and  the 
evenlsot  iln'  l:i-.|  ,l;iynt  jn.liiiui'iil  :ind  resurrection 
are  f(nvi,,|,l.  'riuMi  lull,l^^,  :i,  picture  of  the  iranish- 
ment  of  the  wicked  and  the  blessedness  of  the 
righteous.— Book  III.  extols  the  unity  and  power 
of  Goil,  denounces  idolatry,  proclaims  the  coming 
of  tlie  Great  King,  and  of  his  opponent  Beliar, 
lurrsliailo-\vs  the  reign  of  a  woman  ((jleopatra),  and 
the  siilijr.iion  of  the  Avorld  to  (Christ.  At  this 
]ioiii(.  Ill,'  f-iliyl  returns  to  the  origin  of  man,  and 
liiy^inniug  with  the  Tower  of  Babel  recounts  the 
^l<iry  as  given  in  the  OT  down  to  Roman  day.s. 
Sli(»  foretells  the  doom  of  Rome,  and  of  many 
.V^iatic  cities,  .as  well  as  of  the  islands  of  the 
Jigean.  A  general  judgment  and  millennium 
(JNIessianic  Day)  closes  the  book.  —  Book  IV.  de- 
clares the  blessedness  of  the  righteous,  sketches 
.successively  the  Assyrian  and  Medo-Persian  domi- 
n.ations,  announcing  the  Greek  conquest,  which 
will  Iiring  woes  on  Phrygia,  Asia,  and  Egypt ;  one 
great  king,  especially  will  cause  calamities  to  fall 
(III  Sicily  and  Greece.  After  the  Macedonian  will 
come  a  Roman  conque.st.  The  impious  will  suffer 
U'.any  evils,  and  a  general  resurrection,  judgment 
and  retribution  will  follow. — Book  V.  oiiens  with 
a  ]n-ophecy  of  the  reign  of  the  Roman  emperors; 
it  then  tia.vscs  in   i'c\ir\\  thu  calamitii's  iiiiiiending 


into  a 
..f  the 
further 
tion  of 
VI.  de- 


details  of  judgment,  sueli  as  the  d 
Serapis,  Isis,  and  the  Ethiopiiiiis.- 
scribes  the  pre-existeiice,  incarnation,  .unl  liaptism 
of  the  Son  of  God,  His  teaching  and  miracles, 
tlie  miseries  in  store  f(n-  the  guilty  land,  and  the 
glories  of  the  Cross. — Book  VII.  is  an  account  of 
the  woes  impending'  upon  various  lands  and  cities 
of  Greece,  Asia  Minor,  and  Egypt,  in  which  just 
one  prediction  of  the  signs  of  the  Messiah  is  incor- 
porated.— Book  VIII.  is  a  history  of  the  world 
under  five  monarchies.  The  (ifth  of  these  furnishes 
the  subject  for  a  prophecy  of  misery,  judgment, 
and  destruction.  From  this  the  sibyl  passes  to  the 
denunciation  of  woes  upon  Egypt,  the  islands  of 
the  Mediterranean,  and  Persia,  and  closes  with  a 
]^)icture  of  the  Messiah. — Books  IX.  and  X.  are  in 
fragments. — Book  XI.  is  an  orderly  story  of  the 
world-powers  from  the  time  of  the  Tower  of  Babel 
to  the  subjection  of  Egypt  under  Cleopatra.— 
Book  XII.  pictures  the  fortunes  of  the  Caesars, 
beginning  with  Augustus  and  closing  with  Alex- 
ander Severus. — Book  XIII.  concerns  the  times  of 
the  emperors  of  the  1st  cent.,  beginning  with 
Maximin.  It  touches  more  especially  upon  their 
relations  with  the  Persians  and  Syrians,  closing 
with  an  allegory  of  a  bull,  a  stag,  a  lion,  and  a 
goat. — Book  XIV.  is  the  most  obscure  of  the 
Sibylline  productions.  The  writer  evidently  in- 
tends to  unfold  the  fortunes  of  a  long  succession 
of  emiierors  and  conquerors.  He  gives  the  initial 
letter  of  the  name  of  each,  and  sug^'ests  other 
ways  of  identilication.  But  liis  descriptions  are 
so  wide  of  the  historical  figures  that  they  cannot 
be  safely  identitied.  The  periml  portrayed  is 
generally  the  late  Roman  and  possibly  the  early 
Byzantine. 

lAteranj  questions. — The  above  division  into  books  was  made 
in  the  6th  cent,   of  the  Christian  era  (during  the  reign  of 
Justinian).    Whoever  made  it  is  also  responsible  for  the  collection 
.eles  from  i-arious  sniirces,  and  tlie  insertion  of  certain 
his  own  ainni,^   tlieni.     It  has  heen  euiiii-ctured  that 


of  the 


iiid  u.\ 


ordiiig  to  authorshi] 


itusion,  which 
nrraiiging  the 


evident,  howeve 


ip  and  date  ot 
ly  accomphshe( 
four  classes  of  \ 


84      APOCALYPTIC  LITERATURE 


APOCALYPTIC  LITERATURE 


oracles :  (1)  those  which  issue  from  a  Jewish  source  ;  (2)  those 
which  come  from  a  Christian  ;  (3)  those  which  are  of  heathen 
origin  ;  and  (4)  neutral  elements.  The  last  of  these  adds  very 
much  to  the  difficulty  of  the  critical  prohlem.  The  heathen 
elements  are  not  vei-}'  extensive,  and  attach  themselves  in 
preneral  to  the  Jennsh.  For  the  rest,  the  analysis  which  results 
from  the  labours  of  Ewald  and  Alexandre  may  be  safely  adopted 
as  workable,  and  is  as  follows  : — 

The  Sibylline  Oracles  niav  be  grouped  into  eight  parts,  each 
bv  a  different  author  and  from  a  different  age,  as  follows — (1) 
The  Prologue  of  Book  I.  and  Book  III.,  97-S2S,  belong  to  the  age 
of  Ptolemy  Physcon  (B.C.  140).  They  were  therefore  written  bv 
an  Alexandrian  ,Tew.  Tliey  constitute  the  pith  and  kernel  o"f 
the  whole  collection  in  point  of  value  for  the  study  of  inter- 
Testamental  conditions  and  modes  of  thought,  and  for  the 
times  of  Jesus.  (2)  Book  1\'.  was  written  about  a.d.  SO.  Its 
author  may  have  been  either  a  Christi.in  or  a  Jew.  with  the 
probability  largely  in  favour  of  the  former  alternative.  (3) 
Book  v.,  with  the  possible  exception  of  the  first  part,  issued 
from  the  1st  cent,  -i.e.,  and  is  a  mixture  of  .Tewish  andChristian 
fragments  impossible  to  disentangle  from  each  other.  (4)  Books 
VI.  and  VII.  (towhich  Ewald  adds  the  first  part  of  Book  \".)date 
from  the  earlv  part  of  the  3rd  ccnturv.  The  autlior  was  a 
heretical  Christian.  (,=i)Book  VIII.,  1-360,  is  also  by  a  Christian, 
but  not  a  heretic,  probablv  of  the  luiddle  of  the  3rd  ctnturv. 
((■)  Book  VIII.,  861-,W1,  is  "also  bv  an  orthodox  Christian  of  the 
3rd  centurj-.  (7)  Book  I.  (without  the  Prologue),  Book  II..  and 
Book  111..  1-35.  come  from  tlie  middle  of  the  3rd  cent.,  and  arc 
of  Christian  origin.  (8)  Books  XL,  XII.,  XIII.,  and  XIV.  were 
writtten  by  a  Jew  resident  in  Egypt,  who,  however,  lived  in 
Christian  times,  and  is  acquaijited  with  some  Christian  prac- 
tices. According  to  this  analysis,  the.se  oracles  cover  a  period 
of  more  than  400  years  in  their  production,  and  represent  a  wide 
variety  of  t\Ttes  of  thouglit. 

Editionx.'—Ihe  fii-st  eight  books  in  the  original  Greek  text 
were  published  in  1,S45  at  Basel,  and  subsequently  bv  others  up 
to  Angelo  Mai  (1S19  and  1S28,  Milan).  The  first  complete  edition 
is  that  of  Alexandre  (1S41,  and  again  186(i).  Recent  critical 
editions  by  Rzach  (1891),  C.eflcken  (1902),  and  Heitz  (1903). 

Tramlations.— Latin  :  Sebastian  Castalio  (1540).  Angelo  Mai 
(1817).— English :  Flover  (prose,  1731),  JI.  S.  Terrv  (metrical, 
1890).  —  French :  Bouch6  -  Leclereq  in  nrnie  tie  I'Histoire  des 
Religions,  vols.  ra.  1883,  pp.  236-24S ;  viii.  lsi*3,  pp.  619-i"i35 ; 
ix.  1884,  pp.  220-233  Oeft  incomplete).— German  :  Friedlieb 
(1862),  Blass  (of  III.  IV.  and  V.  in  Kautzsch's  Pseudepigr. 
1900)  " 

LiTER^TtRE— (See  Englemann  BM  oti era  'i  iptoium  Clas 
siconm  ISso  i  p  528)  Bleek  lb  d  Entstehun„  u  Zusam 
mensetz  d  Stb\l  Or    m  Theol   /e  tv  hr     hen  «  ^J  1 1      r 

macher  de  W  ette  u  Lucke  i  1  1  »  n  1  ^ 
1-2  J!9  llil^enfeld  1 
211  Th  I'^m  pp  313  31 
lunq  ub  Ent':tehi  a  1 
Laroque  Sur  la  date  d  \ 
olog    1869  1  p  2C I    ~0     F 

ni  (u    1    pp    441-4  3    li     )     I     r      1        I        I 
Jahrbb    f  Class    rh  i    isil    pj  '        Iso     ) ,  < 

Fnedlander     La  ''ib\  lie   Tu    e    m  rE '    1     4    1 1     1       1 
Harnack    Geirh   d    iltcl  r    t   Lift    i      u     ^bl  11 

Schurer  HJP  it  ui       1    9 

i  The  Assumption  of  Moses— Tlieie  ts  -oma 
Aigueness  in  the  eailj  Patnstu  lefeicnce'i  to  tlie 
Ai'iu  nption  of  Moses.  Syncellus  (ed.  Dind.  i.  4S) 
mentions  an  Apocalypse  of  Moses.  Clement  of 
Alexandria  (Adumb.  in  Epist.  Jud.  \fip.  Zahn, 
SupjiUnuntmn  Clementinum,  84])  and  Didynius 
(Epist.  Judm  Enarratio  [in  Gallandi,  Bib.  'Patr. 
vi.  307]),  allude  to  an  Assumptio  Moysi.  Origen 
(dc  Princ.  III.  ii.  1)  refers  to  an  Adsccnsio  Mosis. 
In  the  Acts  of  the  Nicene  Sjmod  (IMansi,  Sacror. 
Codicil.,  Nova  Collect io,  ii.  18,  20)  there  is  mention 
again  of  an  Assumption  of  Moses.  In  other  lists 
of  apocrj-pha,  a  Testament  {Atae-qKi})  of  3foses  is 
mentioned  (SticJiomefry  of  Nicephorus  and  Synopsis 
of  pseudo-Athana.sius).  It  has  been  argued  (by 
Sehiirer,  followed  by  Charles)  that  these  two  titles 
represent  two  separate  divisions  of  one  and  the 
same  book,  or  two  Ixjoks  fused  together  in  one. 
The  work  was  lost  during  the  Middle  Ages,  and 
recovered  by  Ceriani  in  an  old  Latin  version  in  the 
Ambrosian  Library  at  Milan  in  1861. 

Contents. — Moses  calls  to  himself  Joshua,  the 
son  of  Nun,  and  directs  him  to  preserve  his  writ- 
ings (1).  He  then  forecasts  tlie  apostasy  and 
distress  of  the  twelve  tribes  of  Israel  and  their  divi- 
sions into  the  ten  and  two  (2),  their  awakening  to 
consciousne.ss  of  their  sin,  their  repentance  (3),  the 
restoration  of  the  two  tribes  and  the  preservation 
of  the  ten  among  the  Gentiles  (4),  their  repeated 
backslidings  (.■)),  the  tyianny  of  Herod  (6),  the  pre- 
valence of  wicked  leaders  over  them  (7),  the  oppres- 


sion by  the  Romans  (8),  the  advent  of  the  LeWte 
Taxo,*  wMio  was  destined  to  restore  a  better  state 
of  things  among  them  (9).  At  tliis  point  the 
author  inserts  a  P.salm  of  Hope  and  adds  a  few 
concluding  words  closing  the  discourse  of  Moses 
(10).  Joshua  then  laments  over  the  course  of 
events  revealed  to  him,  and  refuses  to  be  com- 
forted (11);  but  Moses  urges  him  to  take  up  his 
work,  and  conquer  and  destroy  the  Gentiles  (12). 
At  this  point  the  book  breaks  oft"  rather  abruptly. 


Moses  identify  the  words  of  Jude^  as  from  this 
book :  but  as  the  extant  text  dees  not  contain  the  words,  it 
c^n  only  be  that  it  is  either  (1)  wrongly  entitled,  or  (2)  that 
the  quotation  is  made  from  the  second  part  of  it  which  is 
lost  (Sehiirer),  or  (3)  that  two  separate  works  entitled  respec- 
mption  (Ascension) 


velvTAf  Trslnm. 
if  mioses  were  fus 


used  into  one  (Charles).  The  last  position  is 
most  convincui'_'l.\  supported  by  its  advocate,  and  seems  the 
most  prohaljlc.  Ttip  i-ro^fnt  sn-calied  .■ifi.'ntmptum  of  Moses  is 
then  the  Tc.^tam.-nt  of  Mnscs.  bearing  within  It  tracts  of  the 
addition  to  it  of  the  original  A.^.-^lnnptiun  of  Moses. 

The  text  of  the  book  exists  in  a  single  Latin  manuscript  of  the 
.')th  (Uth)  cent.  A.n.  This  is  undoubtedly  a  translation  from  a 
tircek  text.  It  has  been  further  conjectured  that  the  Greek 
it-^tlf  was  ;i  tr:in~latiHii  of  a  ll.brcw  <ir  .\raniaic  original;  hut 

tlv-'-b  T''- "■' '.-.nf  rn.^i,  rf  T  !i  - -" 'i  Tv_-tn:re=.  as  also  of  thc 

c:i-  'I' :•  ■  .1  .  i-ii  1.  -  i..'^':i..n,  in  the  absence  of 

•  !  ,      :.-.  ri.,1  cm  the  point. 

n  -.-.,..;.  nnuiii.al;  Ewald 

;u.      ■      ;    ,  ^  '■  :'',M  II.  1.1.  .,\  ..r  \i-aiiiali.) ;  Wieseler  and 

The  author  of  the  work  was  probably  a  devout  Jew,  a 
Pliarisec,  and  a  mystic  who  does  not  share  but  rather  aims  to 
defeat  the  purposes  of  the  Zealots  (so  Charles,  but  it  has  been 
streimously  maintained  that  he  was  a  Zealot).  The  date  of  the 
composition  is  fixed  by  the  allusion  to  Herod  the  Great.  At  the 
earliest,  it  must  be  44,  but  various  dates  down  to  138  have  been 
advocated.  The  design  of  the  author  seems  to  be  to  teach  the 
lesson  that  God  has  foreseen  and  foreshadowed  all  things ; 
hence  Israel  should  entertain  no  fear     A  deliverer  is  to  come. 

Flit  oni—CeTa.m  (Momi  tenia  Snc  o  et  Profana,  voL  i. 
Fasc  1  pp  -t>4)  Hil^enfeld  (^^  ejfj (I  Canon^m /fccepfum, 
IS  (,  jp  10  135)  Vhnudt  Merx  (.ircAu  I  ii  1868,  p.  lllfif.), 
1    tzs  he  (L  6    4/        \    t    r    t    IST    pp    '00  to  730),  Charles 

I         njr  fV  1         1  ]      4  101) 

k       II     ei  feld   (attempted    restoration 

II  f    11  1     1S69     pp.    435-468).— 

i      (      r  1         ;  f    Moses  (1897).— German: 

ar    V       I       I  I  Hi  nne(jahrt  (iser),  Clemen  in 

I  a  tzs  hs7  <•  rffi   ;     (1    n) 

Literati  RE — Coiam  L  Vssomption  de  Moise  '  in  Revue  de 
Th  I  ISO*  pp  to  94  ^\  leseler  Die  jungst  aufgefundene 
\  ifi  ahme  Moses  etc  n  Jah  bb  f  dexUsche  Theol.  1868,  pp. 
f  b4S  Heidenheim  Beitra,.e  z  besser  Verstandniss  d.  As- 
censio  Mosis  in  1  lerteljal  f  ft  f  del  liche  u  englische  Theo- 
lni  l'^  4  pp  "le-'lS  Hll  enfcid  ZnTk  1886  pp.  132-139 ; 
b  hurer  HJP  II  ui   -3  S3 

5.  Fourth  Ezra  (Second  Esdras).— Thispseudepi- 
^raph  has  been  knoANTi  from  the  earliest  Christian 
days,  and  widely  circulated  under  the  name  of 
Ezra  as  his  second,  third,  fourth,  or  fifth  book, 
according  to  the  various  ways  of  grouping  and 
entitling  the  books  that  issue  from  the  Restoration 
generation.  (See  explanation  of  these  names  by 
Thackeray  in  Hastings'  DB,  art.  'Esdras,  First 
Book  of).  Fourth  Ezra,  however,  has  come  to  be 
generally  accepted  as  the  name  for  it. 

Contents. — This  is  given  in  seven  visions.  The 
First  Vision  (3^-5")  is  granted  to  Ezra  in  answer 
to  disturbing  doubts  arising  in  his  mind.  These 
concern  the  origin  of  sin  and  suffering  in  the  world 
(3'"^'').  An  angel  gives  him  the  answer:  God's 
ways  are  inscrutable.  The  human  spirit  can  com- 
prehend but  little  (4'-=').  But  .as  he  pleads  that  it 
is  painful  to  be  left  in  ignorance  on  such  vital 
matters,  he  is  assured  of  a  change  of  seon  to  take 
place  soon.  Definite  signs  will  mark  the  change. 
He  must  fast  for  seven  days,  and  receive  another 
re\elation  at  the  end  of  that  time  (4'--5"). 

The  Second  Vision  (5-''-6*')  is  granted  in  answer 

'  .'Vfter  unsuccessful  attempts  by  many  others,  a  satisfactorv- 
explanation  of  this  name  has  been  given  bv  Burkitt  (see 
Hastings'  DB  iii.  449'>).  Taxo  is  a  copyist's  mistake  for  Taxok 
— Totcti*.  And  this  is  to  be  read  by  Gematria  as  Eleazar. 
piD:n  =  nil'S.x.  Eleazar  the  father  of  se\  en  sons  is  the  great 
Levitc  (2  Mac  U'S). 


APOCALYPTIC  LITEEATUEE 


APOCALYPTIC  LITEEATUEE       85 


to  the  question,  Why  .has  God  given  over  His  only 
chosen  people  into  the  hands  of  the  heathen? 
{6-"-^).  He  receives  the  answer  that  God  loves 
His  people,  and  the  problem  must  be  regarded  as 
not  solvable  for  man  :  nevertheless  deliverance  is 
drawing  near  ;  the  generations  of  men  are  passing  ; 
the  world  lias  become  old  ;  the  signs  of  the  end  are 
visible  (o^i-e"). 

The  Third  Vision  (63^-9==),  like  the  second,  is 
given  after  a  period  of  seven  days'  fasting,  and  is 
in  answer  to  the  question.  Why  does  not  Israel 
possess  the  tend  which  belongs  to  it?  (G^-'^'').  The 
answer  is  not  direct.  An  evil  age  must  neces- 
sarily precede  the  good  that  shall  be  in  the  future 
(■ji-16)  -pije  (loom  of  sinners  is  grievous  but  well- 
deserved.  The  Son  of  God,  the  Christ,  shall 
appear  in  judgment  (7""").  Few  are  chosen,  but 
all  the  greater  is  the  honour  conferred  on  them 
(745-74)_  A  sevenfold  suffering  and  a  sevenfold  joy 
await    men    in    the    intermediate    state    (7""""). 


Intercession  for  the  cond 
at  the  last  judgment  (7' 
their  doom 


will 


of  no  avail 


stent 
with  the  sufferings  of  tlir  iMindcnined  (7'=--S'»).  At 
this  point  Ezra  interposes  a  prayer  and  receives  an 
answer  (8=""^=).  The  saved  shall  rejoice  at  their 
own  lot,  and  forget  the  sufferings  of  sinners  (8«-«i)- 
It  is  certain  that  the  end  of  the  world  is  nigh. 
The  signs  are  not  to  be  mistaken  (8«--9").  There 
are  more  of  the  lost  than  of  the  saved  (9"--^). 

The  Fourth  Vision  (9=''-10'>8)  is  given  upon  the 
Plain  of  Ardath.  It  consists  of  a  .symbolic  picture 
of  Zion's  sorrow,  followed  by  glory.  The  vision 
(9-*-10^)  presents  a  woman  in  tattered  garments, 
weeping  and  wailing  because  of  her  lost  son.  The 
explanation  by  the  angel  (lO'-''-^^)  identifies  the 
woman  with  Zion,  and  i)oints  out  the  lesson  to  the 
seer. 

The  Fifth  Vision  (lCP-12")  pre.sents  the  fourth 
world-emirire  under  the  figure  of  an  eagle  coming 
out  of  the  sea,  and  like  the  fourth  vision  falls  into 
two  parts,  i.e.  the  Vision  (10«»-123)  and  the  inter- 
pretation of  it  by  the  angel  (12^«).  This  is  fol- 
lowed by  a  Conclu.'sion  in  story  form.  The  people 
come  out  to  buek  fur  Ezra,  they  find  him  in  the 
plain,  and  he  sends  them  back  into  the  city  (12-"'-'^'). 

The •'" 

ing  out  of  a  stormy  sea 
heaven  (IS'"*).  A  countless  multitude  comes  to 
wage  war  against  him ;  but  by  a  stream  of  fire 
proceeding  from  his  mouth  he  overcomes  his 
enemies  (13^"").  Then  another  host  of  friendly 
men  tiock  arinind  him  (13'--").  The  question  is 
raised.  Is  it  better  to  survive  to  tlie  end  of  the 
world  or  to  die  beforehand?  It  is  answered  in 
favour  of  the  former  alternative  (IS"-'').  The  ex- 
planation of  the  vision  follows.  The  man  in  the 
cloud  is  the  Son  of  God,  the  events  are  those  of  the 
Messianic  age  (13-*'^*). 

The  Seventh  Vision  {W'^)  is  given  three  days 
after  the  sixth,  under  an  oak.  This  is  the  familiar 
legend  of  Ezra's  restoring  the  lost  Scriptures.  But 
it  begins  with  a  command  to  keep  his  present 


vision  secret  (14'-").     A  prayer  of  Ezra  follows,  in 

Lord  for 
rewriting  the  lost  Scriptures  (14"-'').     Tlie  jjrayer 


which  he  beseeches  the 


for  the  privilege  of 

, ;      The 

is  answered,  and  E 
together  with  .^ 
concludes  witli  :i 
The  above  d..( 
found  in  the  L;i 
the  chapter  <li\ 
Version    has   .-il- 

current  tiaiisluti.Mis  nit..  Kimhsh  O'/ir  I 
Apocrypha,  by  C.  .1.  Hall,  and  in  Wace's  Holy 
Bible,  'Apocrypha,'  by  Lupton).  These  four 
chapters  are  universally  regarded  as  later  addi- 
tions by  a. strongly  anti- Jewish  Christian  author, 


ost  books 

The  book 

ase. 

lid  15.  16, 

^^■  basis  of 

'he   Latin 

of    some 

appended  respectively  to  the  beginning  and  end  of 
the  Latin  Version.  The  other  versions  do  not 
contain  them.  They  have  been  detached  and  pub- 
lished together  as  5th  Esdras  by  Fritzsche  {Lib. 
Apocr.  Vet.  Test.  'Liber  Esdrii?  Quintus,'  pp.  640- 
653). 


Literary  qncstinnfi. — The  book  is  a  unity,  and  comparatively 
free  from  interpolations  and  editorial  tampering.    The  author 
'--   whom  problems  of  theodicy  especially 


was  a  devout 

had  a  considerable  fascination, 
broader  and  more  constant  qut 
^ious  sphere  with  every  i;fenerc 
his  own  age,  and  finds  no  sign  o 
and  recog:nition  of  God  in  thi 
accordingly  plants 


also  interested 
hich  recur  in  the  reli- 
[e  naturally  looks  into 
hteousness 
jrces  that  work  there.  He 
world  to  come. 
Kabisch  has  indeed  analyzed  the  work  into  four  different  pro- 
ductions fused  together  into  unity  by  clumsy  redactors  (Das 
Vierte  Buck  Esra,  1S89),  and  his  theory  has  been  substantially 
accepted  by  de  Faye,  but  his  observations  would  lead  rather  to 
the  composition  of  the  book  from  pre-existing  sources  than  to 
the  bringing  together  of  independent  books  of  documents  by  a 
redactor.  The  impression  of  unity  is  too  strong  to  be  destroyed 
by  such  considerations  as  Kabisch  allei^es. 

'The  date  of  the  book  cannot  be  earli.i-  Hi.ni  the  f.-ill  of  Jeru- 
salem, as  that  event  is  distinctly  alhi.t-.l  i .  i  (.-  l"'-  I'l-).  The 
Temple  is  destroyed  and  the  service  ill  '         •      A  still 

later  chronological  starting-point  is  ^ 
death  of  Titus  (ll^^) ;  the  author  i 
Domitian  (12-'- ■■»).    It  is  safe,  therefoiv.  i,i  ,..^l  d.y.\n  llic  j  ear  90 
as  approximately  the  time  of  composition. 

Editions.— The  book  exists  in  Latin,  Syriac,  Ethiopic,  Arabio(2}, 
and  Armenian  versions.  The  original  was  in  Greek.  This  is 
made  evident  by  the  characteristic  differences  of  the  versions. 
They  are  all  easily  accouiitcl  i 
Latin  text  was  first  edited  <  i  ii  i. 
Fritzsche  (i*.  Apocr.  V<i.  I 
lishedin  Ceriani's  Jl/on«*;^  n'  ■  '         i ,  also  m 

ghotolithographic  reprodiii  1 1  n.  nn.i'i  ni.>  in  i  nmstatio 
ijro-Peseitto  Veteris  Tenia,,,,,,!,,  n..  (i^  i'-'"^'; .  .'yain  by 
E.  Bensly,  with  an  introd.  by  M.  K.  James  (7V.rr<  and  Studies, 
Canib.  iii.  2,  1896).  The  Ethiopic  was  published  by  Lawrence 
(1820),  the  Arabic  by  Gildemeister  (1S77),  the  Armenian  by  the 
Mechitharists  in  Venice  (1806). 

rramlatiom.— English:  Bissell  (Lan.-'<!  rv„„ ,„.„.„,.„,  isso), 
Lupton(Wace's'Apocrypha,'1888).-i..  11"  "I  \<.li  iini-  (1883), 
Ewald  (Abhatuil.  d.  Gbtt.  Gesellsch.  .      "  i         J -1863), 

Zockler(K'.i7/.  iTom.  1891).    Atranslaii 'i  i.,  made 

and  published  by  Hilgenfeld  (Jtfeif«'('-s- .  / 

Literature.— Corrodi,  Krit.  Gesch .  .  /  -  - 1 .  vol.  i. 

pp.  179-230;  Gudschmid,  'Die  Apor.  i!      i 
1860;   Volkmar,  Handbuch  d.  Einh,'  i 

WieseIer,'DasVierteb.  Ezra' inSA',  i-:m  :■ 
Bas  Vierte  B   Ezra,  1889;  Schiefler,  /i-    ,-/  i.      -i 
scheii  Anschautuigendes  IV  Ezra  Btu-lii  >^,  utiil  ;  Glen 
1898,  pp.  237-246 ;  Schurer,  GJ  V'3  iii.  232 II.  [UJT  n. 


ath  of 


ek.    The 

A,.^  pub- 


1893; 


.  93£f.] 


6.  The  Syplac  Baruch. — Baruch  is  mentioned  as 
Jeremiah's  companion  and  helper  during  the  try- 
ing days  which  ended  in  the  destruction  of  Jeru- 
salem and  the  deportations  under  Jehoiakim  and 
Zedekiah  (Jer  32i--  '^  36.  45).  The  fact  that  he 
wrote  under  Jeremiah's  direction  seems  to  have 
stimulated  the  tendency  to  publish  alleged  pro- 
phecies and  revelations  in  his  name.  The  first  of 
these  was  the  book  that  passed  into  the  group  of 
OT  Apoci-ypha.  One  of  Ceriani's  many  contribu- 
tions to  apocalyptics  was  the  discovery,  translation 
into  Latin  (1866),  and  later  publication  of  a  Syriac 
text  of  a  Book  of  Baruch  {Monumenta  Sacra,  v. 
1871,  pp.  11-18). 

Contents.— The  book  is  divided  into  two  main 
parts,  i.e.  the  Apocalypse  proper  (chs.  1-77)  and 
the  Letter  to  the  Nine  Tribes  and  a  Half  (chs. 
78-87). 

Part  I.  may  again  be  subdivided  into  seven  sec- 
tions. (1)  The  first  section  (1-12)  begins  with  the 
announcement  of  the  impending  fall  of  Jerusalem, 
and  the  captivity  of  Judah ;  next  comes  the  por- 
traiture of  the  advancing  Chaldoeans,  the  hiding  of 
the  treasures  of  the  Temple,  and  the  destruction 
of  the  walls  by  angels,  so  that  the  Chalda3an3 
might  not  claim  the  glory  of  the  capture  of  the 
city.  The  next  day  the  city  is  occupied  by  the 
enemy  (6-8).  Baruch  stays  amid  the  ruins  of  the 
city,  wliile  Jeremiah,  by  Divine  command,  accom- 
panies the  exiles  to  Babylon  (9-12).— (2)  The  second 
section  (13-20)  contains  a  vision  given  to  Baruch 
while  standing  on  Mount  Zion.  He  is  assured  that 
the  calamity  just  fallen  on  the  chosen  people  has 


APOCALYPTIC  LITERATURE 


APOCALYPTIC  LITERATURE 


been  inflicted  in  mercy  (13);  he  complains  that 
good  men  are  no  better  tlian  others,  hut  is  answered 
that  sui  in  one  who  possesses  the  Law  is  worthy  of 
being  punished  (14.  15).  He  exjiresses  other  mis- 
givings which  are  answered.  He  is  then  promised 
a  new  revelation  (16-20). — (3)  The  third  section 
(21-34)  opens  with  Baruch's  appearance  at  the  end 
of  seven  days  in  the  place  appointed.  Here  he 
exi)resses  his  thoughts  in  the  form  of  a  prayer  (21) ; 
he  is  shown  that  his  knowledge  is  imperfect  tliat 
the  time  is  coming  when  God's  judgment  will 
mature  (22-25) ;  he  mshes  to  know  of  the  distre  e^ 
of  the  last  days  (26),  and  is  given  a  revelation 
concerning  the  order  of  the  times.  The  tub  iH 
tion  wUl  come  in  twelve  stages  (27)  tl  e  w  1  le 
earth  will  be  affected,  but  those  in  the  cl  o  en 
land  will  escape  ;  the  Messiah  will  appear  hr  t  to 
bring  blessings  to  the  righteous  on  the  eaith  (^8 
29),  and  then,  as  He  returns  to  His  gloiy  to  laise 
from  the  dead  both  the  righteous  and  the  un 
righteous,  and  consign  them  respecti\  ely  to  haj  pi 
ness  and  perdition  (30).  Baruch  then  sumn  on 
the  elders  of  the  people,  and  announces  to  tl  ei  i 
that  the  ruined  Zion  shall  be  rebuilt  ai  d  le  tro>  e  I 
again,  and  finally  restored  in  glory  to  1  t  foi  e  ei 
(31-34).— (4)  The  fourth  section  (35-46)  ^ncs 
vision  which  Baruch  saw  as  he  slept  ai  1 1  tl  e  i  a 
of  the  Holy  Place.     On  one  side  theie     1 1  eaied 


spring  streaming  from  beneath  its  roots  Lut  tl  e 
spring  grew  into  a  mighty  river,  and  over\  lielme  1 
tlie  forest,  to^'ether  with  the  mountams  lounl 
about.  A  solitary  cedar  was  left.  The  sticam 
first  addressed  words  of  denunciation  against  tl  e 
cedar,  and  then  anniliilated  it.  In  the  jlace  of 
forest  and  mountains  the  vine  grew,  and  the  \  illej 
was  filled  with  blossoms  (35-37).  The  inter]  leta 
tion  of  the  vision  is  given  as  requested  by  1  i  ] 
The  kingdoms  which  have  oppressed  Zion  1  11  1 
overwhelmed  by  t  lie  Messiah.  The  ce  Hi  i  1 1 
last  king  of  the  last  kin''dom  ;  he  shall  be  la  1 
the  Messiah,  who  shall  then  begin  His  eteii  al 
reign  (38-40).  Baruch  is  commanded  to  wain  tl  e 
people  and  prepare  himself  for  furthei  \isious  (41 
43),  which  lie  accordingly  does  (44-46).— (o)  Ihe 
fifth  section  (47-52)  also  opens  with  a  prayer  of 
Baruch's  offered  seven  days  later  (47-48-^).  In 
answer  Baruch  receives  a  new  revelation  regarding 
the  distress  of  the  last  days  (48^"*),  and  of  the  re- 
surrection both  of  the  evil  and  the  good,  together 
with  their  punishment  and  reward  (49-52).— (6)  The 
sixth  section  (53-76)  is  again  in  the  form  of  a  vision. 
A  cloud  ascends  from  the  sea,  and  pours  forth  upon 
the  earth  black  and  white  (dark  and  bright)  waters. 
Lightning  illumines  it,  and  twelve  streams  are  put 
in  subjection  under  it  (53).  Baruch  prays  that  it 
may  be  explained  to  him  (54),  and  the  angel  Ramael 
is  sent  to  him  to  interpret  the  vision  (55).  The 
cloud  pouring  forth  the  waters  represents  mankind 
in  its  historical  unfolding ;  the  dark  waters  stand 
for  evil  ages,  the  bright  for  good.  The  course  of 
the  worltl  from  Adam  to  the  Exile  is  thus  sym- 
Ixilized.  The  twelve  periods  are  identified  with 
the  bright  and  dark  streams  (56-68).  The  twelfth 
Is  the  age  of  the  rebuilding  of  Jerusalem  and  of 
the  restoration  of  the  Temple  service.  These 
twelve  are  followed  by  a  last  black  stream,  which 
stands  for  the  tribulation  of  the  Messianic  age. 
Then  shall  the  Messiah  take  iharge  of  the  few 
saved  ones  (69-71).  Tin-  lij^htiiiii;^  is  the  Messiah, 
and  His  eternal  bent-lircut  ri-i;.:n  (72-74).  Baruch 
thanks  God,  and  is  infuriued  that  he  will  siiortly 
be  taken  from  the  earth,  though  not  by  death  (75, 
76).— (7)  The  seventh  .section  tells  how  Barueli 
called  the  people  together,  told  them  of  his  im- 
pending departure,  wrote  two  letters,  one  to  the 
exiles  in  Baljylou  and  the  other  to  the  nine  and  a 


half  tribes  in  the  regions  beyond,  and  how  he  sent 
the  first  by  messengers  and  entrusted  the  second 
to  an  eagle  (77). 

Part  II.  This  part  of  the  book  is  taken  up  with 
the  letter  to  the  nine  tribes  and  a  half  (78-87).  In 
it  Baruch  recalls  to  the  minds  of  the  tribes  God's 
mercy,  and  assures  thorn  that  their  sufferings  are 
intended  for  tlieir  good  (78-81).  God  has  shown 
Baruch  in  visions  the  meaning  of  their  experiences 
an  1  tl  e  loo  u  of  then  enemies  (S>  84)  they  should 
tlerefoie  le  mdismayed  and  expect  peely  de 
I  f     tl  p  end  1   neai  (8o)     The  letter  then 

1  instructions  (86  S") 

The  exta  t  t«\t    n  S     ai-   s  from  an 


or    k     T 
th     C  reek 


of  4  Lz         1 
T       h  es  t 


d  tl    t  tl  ey  have  bee  i 
Te        The  iate    hen 


1    t  to  etl  er 
1  bet   ee    A  D 

'  ta  Sacia 
t  0 1  of  tl  e 


L\nipeleB  up  2 

31     1  neucker    Da    h         L  d  ZW/li   1888 

I        5    «  8    kab  scl      U  e  Vu  lie    liaru  Is  Jul  b  /  I'rot 

Ileal  lS9f>  pp  (to-107    Clemeu  SL   18Jb  pp  2  7  2J7 

7.  The  Greek  Barnch.— A  hint  as  to  the  exist 
enee  of  another  book  bearing  the  name  Baruch  was 
long  known  to  exist  in  a  passage  of  Origen  (Je 
Princ.  II.  iii.  6),  in  which  lie  alludes  to  Baruch's 
account  of  the  Seven  Heavens.  No  such  account  is 
to  be  found  either  in  the  OT  apocryphon  or  in  tlie 
Syriac  apocalypse  bearing  the  name  of  Baruch. 
But  it  was  nut  until  1896  that  the  book  alluded  to 
by  Origen  was  discovered  and  published  in  Texts 
ami  Studies  {Ca,mh.  vol.  v.  1,  pjj.  84-94). 

Contents. — The  book  opens  with  Baruch's  lamen- 
tation and  prayer  over  the  fallen  kingdom  of  Judali. 
Forthwith  an  angel  visits  him  and  promises  to  show 
h  im  wonderful  secrets  ( 1 ).  The  promise  is  fulfilled. 
He  is  taken  up  into  the  first  heaven,  where  he  sees 
oreatui-es  with  the  face  of  bulls,  the  horns  of  stags, 
the  feet  of  goats,  and  the  haunches  of  lambs  ;  lie 
then  inquires  as  to  the  dimensions  of  this  heaven, 
and  is  ijiven  some  astoundintj  figures  (2).  In  the 
second  heaven  he  sees  men  with  the  look  of  dogs 
and  the  feet  of  deer.  They  are  those  who  have 
counselled  the  building  of  the  tower  [of  Babel]  (3). 
In  the  third  heaven  he  sees  a  dragon  which  lives 
on  the  bodies  of  the  wicked  ;  it  is  Hades.  He 
further  learns  that  the  tri'i-  which  i  Mu^ed  Adam's 
fall  was  the  vine,  and  tlincfniv  tl,,.  :,l.iise  of  the 
fruit  of  the  vine  has  ever  mh.  .■  Ii.  i  n  lii^.  source  of 
fearful  evils  to  men  (4).  II.-  i^  i.il,|  d,,.  nature  of 
Hades  (0),  and  is  ^hi.Hii  ih.-  i'liMuix,  which  pro- 
tei-ts  the  earth  fruia  lli.-  Iiiiuiiii-  ];.\  -  of  the  sun  (6). 
The  approach  of  thi,-,  ninn-i  -  i  Li  i  ilics  him  (7).  He 
learns  that  the  ren.-«in;^  ..1  I  lie  .nnvn  of  the  sun  is 
necessary,  because  the  view  of  the  sins  of  men  daily 


APOCALYPTIC  LITERATURE 


APOCALYPTIC  LITERATURE       87 


dims  and  weakens  this  luminary  ;  it  mu«it  lie 
cleansed  and  refreslicd  at  the  end  of  each  day  (8) 
Thechariot  of  the  moon  and  the  explanation  of  its 
stages,  together  with  the  reason  for  its  slmuiij, 
only  at  night,  are  then  made  known  to  BaukIi  (0) 
In  the  fourtii  heaven  he  eoiiies  into  view  of  a  \  ,ist 
plain  and  body  of  water  which  is  the  souue  ot  the 
'  dew  of  heaven  '  ( 10).  The  Kates  of  tlie  hith  heavtii 
are  closed  as  he  and  his  guide  come  to  them  ;  but 
upon  being  opened  they  admit  the  archangel 
Jlichael,  who  receives  the  prayers  and  good  woiks 
of  the  righteous  and  presents  them  before  God 
(11,  12).  The  guardian  angels  of  the  unrighteous 
petition  to  be  released  from  their  hated  woik,  but 
are  told  to  wait  (13).  Michael  departs,  but  returns 
again  bringing  oil,  which  he  gives  to  the  angels 
that  had  brought  to  him  the  virtues  of  men  (U.  15). 
He  addresses  the  angels  wlio  had  brought  no  good 
works  (16).  The  gate  closes,  and  the  prophet  and 
angel  return  to  the  earth. 

Literary  questions  —Thus  far  there  .are  two  recensions  of 
this  apocalypse  known,  the  Greek  and  the  tah\onK  But 
neither  of  t'hein  is  believed  to  be  the  original.  Their  lel  itions 
to  one  another  are  those  of  a  more  and  a  less  condensed  \  cision 
3f  the  same  story.  That  the  orij^inal  must  have  been  fuller  and 
larger  is  clear  from  Origen's  intimation  that  it  ga\  e  an  aCLOunt 
of  seven  heavens,  whereas  the  Greek  text  before  us  stops  witli 
the  fifth  heaven,  and  the  Slavonic  knows  of  only  two 

The  relation  of  the  book  to  the  Syriac  Baruch  is  probably  e\ 
plained  by  referring  to  7ii^--*  of  that  work.  Here  God  pi  onuses 
to  give  Baruch,  after  the  lapse  of  forty  days,  a  further  re\  elation 
regarding  the  world  of  material  elements  (the  cycle  of  the  eartli, 
the  summits  of  the  mountains,  the  depths  ot  the  \alle\s  .ind  of 
the  seas,  and  the  number  of  the  rivers).  The  fulfilment  of  this 
promise  is  not  recorded  in  what  follows,  and  the  (.letlc  apo- 
calypse was  composed  to  show  not  only  that  it  tt.is  fiilliUcd, 
but  also  in  what  way. 

This  dependence  on  the  Syriac  Baruch  on  the  one  side  and 
the  allusion  of  Origen  to  the  work  on  the  other,  fi\  the  d  ite  of 
its  composition  as  between  100  and  175  a.d  It  «  is  i\  ritttn  as 
a  Jewish  apocalvpse,  but  shows  traces  of  interpolation  by 
Christians  (cf.  ch,  4,  '  The  Vine  '). 

t'ciiHcms.— Greek  Te.xt :  James  (.Texts  and  Studies,  Camb. 
1897,  v.  1,  pp.  84-94). 

Translations.— Kn<;\ish  :  James(as  above) :  the  SK\  -inn  t<  \f 

in  the  same  volume  with  the  edition  iii  ^  i     . , 
—German;  Bonwetsch  (^^achricftti^n 
H'«s.zM(V6H.,PhU.Klasse,lS9(),pp.9.1-l  i..,,  I:.-      ,  ,  I. . 
J'seudepigr.  1900. 

Literature.— This  is  limited  almost  altogclhci  tu  thi  intio 
ductions  accompanying  the  editions  and  translations  Of  these, 
however,  that  by  Prof.  James  is  quite  ample  and  thorough 

8.  The  Psalter  of   Solomon The  Psalter  of 

Solomon  is  placed  in  the  Stiohometry  of  Nice 
phorus  among  the  Antilegomena  of  the  OT,  and 
not  among  tlie  Apocrypha ;  so  also  in  pseudo- 
Athanasius'  Synopsis  S.  Scripturce.  It  is  a  collec- 
tion of  lyrics,  each  one  independent  of  eveiy  other. 
Only  the  last  two  of  these  (the  17th  and  18th), 
strictly  speaking,  fall  into  the  group  of  apocalyptic 
writings.  They  were  known  and  referied  to  as  the 
'Odes  of  Solomon'  as  early  as  the  Pistis  Sophia 
(200  to  250  A.D.),  and  frequently  latei  than  that 
date. 

Contents,  Ps  17  i,s  in  general  a  prophecy  of  the 
restonuii.ii  of  tlir,  ,i;l(iry  to  the  desolated  throne  of 
David.  It  n|,c-ns  w  itii  an  expression  of  trust  in  the 
Lord,  tliL'  Eternal  King  of  Israel,  addressed  directly 
to  Him  (1-4).  The  Lord  (still  addre.^sL-d  in  the 
second  person)  has  chosen  David  to  In-  kini;  o\cr 
I.srael,  and  promised  him  and  his  seed  iitipchuil 
dominion  ;  but  sinners  have  risen  up  against  Israel 
and  have  desolated  the  throne  of  David  (5-S)  ;  yet 
the  Lord  will  cast  these  down  and  visit  them  ac- 
cording to  their  sins  (9-12).  They  have  done 
wickedly  and  acted  proudly  (13-17)  ;  the  righteous 
fled  before  them  and  wandered  in  desert  pl.iccs 
(18-20)!  the  sins  of  the  wicked  have  aboumiid 
(21,  22)  ;  the  Lord  is  to  raise  the  son  of  David,  Hi, 
Servant,  purge  Jerusalem,  cast  down  the  unright- 
eous and  lawless  nation,  gather  together  His  people 
and  judge  all  the  tribes  of  men  (23-36).  He  willnot 
put  confidence  in  huiuan  weapons  of  warfare,  but 


in  the  Lnid  ;  and 
strengthen  and  j, i 
sh.xlliule  ii^iiteou 
aiethe%  Mhoshill 


ot  the  Anonited  (7-10), 


M, 


Loid  ^Mn    bless  him,  «ill 

'III   .li.iMiniim    (37-44).     He 

I  '  l\  ir)-49).     Blessed 

■ill       N     (-.0.51). 

■   Ml      \   .       It  begins  with 

1 1      I     I  i  I'll  111    i.ixour  to 

li        .   I  .  I     Ml  iliim(l-5). 

in   N  I>h1,  (,„d  shall 

-1  ill  (In  ,  il  declares 

o  sliall  In  e  in  the  days 

closes  with  a  doxology 

foi  the  cimstanty  and  peipetuity  of  the  heavenly 

/  Though  the  Psalter  of  Solomon  is  a  col- 

1  1  1    compositions,  these  appaientlj   i^sue 

till  il  conditions  and  are  pervaded  by  the 

smi'     j   I       ill  They  nowhere  claim  to  be  Solomon's 

conipositijii  riiH  (  Uim  was  made  foi  thcin  b\  later  copyists. 
In  geneial,  the  conditions  under  which  tlie\  welt  wiitten  are 
those  of  the  period  of  thirtv  jeais  between  7il  and  40  li  c  Pom- 
pev  18  alluded  to  as  '  the  niii;ht\  ^tiikrr'  vvho  coiiits  '  fioni  the 


(2J0  82J   J4),    but  he    Mil 

iiid  mtliotedseiere 

sutte^n„'sonltlShnaU^ 

1 ,  a  shameful  death 

m  i:gjpt(229  30)     Aim,     1                      1 

t  J  the  Roman  con- 

quest  under  Pompe^ 

home  older  critics  read  theallusionsaljo\  t 

indi.  xttd  as  having 

refeience  to  Herod  and  his  dai  s  (Mo\  ei  s,  h 

eim) ,  hw  aid  saw  in 

them  Antiochus  Epiplian.  s  and  his  times  , 

lilt  these  identlfica- 

tions  are  manifestly  fai  UIlIimI     Ihi     ,„ 

s.nsus  of  critics  is 

now  against  them.    Butii          ,           ,       , 

s,  buch  as  Franken- 

berg,  who  advocates  the           i 

The  original  langua„(     i                             1 

liren      The  radical 

diffeience  between  the  t\|           i                 i 

1  1  up  in  17  and  IS 

.iiid  the  eschatology  ot  1 1      r 

1     ti.  n  points  to  a 

separate  authoibhip  of  thti    tu.i  | 

i|    11  11  .mthis, 

and  the  antecedent  probability  tli  u  1            i 

1                  1  e  apt  to 

be  independent  contiibutions,  tli  i 

iiiids  for 

asL  ribmg  pai  ticular  psalms  to  ditl  i 

1        iahor(or 

authois)  belonged  to  the  Hh  msn 

£d.(iun^-Hil„enfdl         1/ 

Pmlter 

Salomut,,  11,71 ,  Fntzs<  h 

1  9,  689  ; 

Pick,  '  The  Psaltei  ol  h  1 

Rsle  and  Jamc<i,  7'A,    1 

1    0.  von 

I  ^  i  iabm  of 
I  <J  t  nocll,  1899. 
um.  *  Apocrypha,' 
(above  cited).— 


Nazani,   i    p. 
Kaulen  in  Wet: 


9   The  Testaments  of  the  Twelve  Patriarchs. 

— This  pioduction  was  well  known  to  the  ancient 
Patiistiowuteis.  It  is,,u.,l.d  ),\  In  n  ,  n^iFiagm. 
17,  ed.  Haivey,  11  4s7i  Oiuiit//  <  /  s  15"), 
and  Teitullian  (ddi  U  i,  \  li  li  is  n  uued  in 
the  Synopsis  ot  psemlo  \tli  iii  isiiis  ,iiid  m  the 
Stichoiuetiy  of  Nicephoius.  In  the  13th  cent. 
Bishop  Giosseteste  made  a  translation  of  it  into 
Latin.  It  has  been  veiy  frequently  translated 
both  in  ancient  and  in  modern  times. 

Contents. — The  book  extends  the  idea  of  Gn  49  to 
the  sons  of  Jacob.  Just  as  the  father  had  called 
his  .sons  together  before  his  death  and  told  them 
his  last  thoughts,  so  each  of  the  .sons  is  made  to 
summon  his  own  childieii  to  his  dcathlicd  and  to 
.Liivetheiii  a  rctrus[irrti\i'  and  a  iiios|.,.fi  i\e  view. 
Mach.  buwcvci',  centres  his  discuiusr  in  a  duminant 
idea  or  topic.  ( I )  Kcuben,  uh  Thou,//,ts.  Tliis  Testa- 
ment begins  with  the  confession  by  Keuben  of  his 
sin  and  the  penance  he  performed  therefor  (1). 
Man  has  seven  spirits  given  him  to  perform  his  work 

in  the  worhl.  /.-■.  -■       ■■   '■    • -- "   --  '" 

-^1 ''II.    nr.n.l..-- 


counterfeit  eighth  (3).  Beware  of  fornication  (4). 
Women  have  always  been  seducers.  They  misled 
the  Uriijui-i,  'watchers'  (5).     Give  heed  to  Levi, 


88   APOCALYPTIC  LITERATUEE 


APOCALYPTIC  LITERATURE 


for  he  shall  know  the  Law  (6  and  7).— (-2)  Simeon, 
on  Envy.  This  also  opens  with  a  confession,  but 
the  sin  confessed  is  envy  (1.  ■_').  The  patriarch 
warns  his  children  against  this  sin  (3),  connnends 
Joseph,  and  urges  them  to  imitate  him  (4-8).— 
(3)  Levi,  on  the  Priesthood  and  Arrogance.  This 
is  the  distinctively  apocalyptic  Testament.  After 
introducing  himself,  tlie  patriarch  recounts  tlie 
revelation  given  him  of  the  seven  heavens  (1-4); 
then  tells  of  being  ushered  into  the  presence  of  the 
Lord,  who  gave  him  the  command  to  destroy  the 
Shechemites  (5).  Contrary  to  the  desire  of  his 
father,  he  executed  the  command  (6.  7).  He  saw 
a  second  vision,  in  which  he  was  invested  with 
the  priesthood  and  received  instructions  from  his 
grandfather  Isaac  (8.  9).  He  foreshadows  the  cor- 
ruption of  the  priesthood  by  his  family  (11.  1-2), 
instructs  them  in  their  duties  and  again  warns 
against  corruption  (13.  14);  foretells  the  destruc- 
tion of  the  Temple,  and  indicates  from  the  Book  of 
Enoch  that  the  Captivity  will  last  seventy  years 
(15-17);  he  announces  the  Messiah,  His  rejection 
and  the  dispersion  of  Israel,  and  closes  with  an 
exhortation  to  choose  well  (18.  19).— (4)  Judah,  on 
Fortitude,  Avarice,  and  Fornication.  After  intro- 
ducing himself,  Judah  gives  a  glowing  account  of 
his  physical  strength  and  agility,  with  many  illus- 
trative incidents  (1-9).  He  tells  of  how  he  chose 
Tamar  as  the  wife  of  his  son  Er,  of  the  wickedness 
of  his  sons  and  their  death,  and  of  his  own  relations 
with  Tamar  (10-12).  Ascribing  his  fall  to  drunken- 
ness and  covetousnpss.  he  warns  his  children  against 
these  vices,  as  well  :i^  ,ii;:iinst  fornication  (13-17); 
he  foresees  f nil II  ihc  i;(.nk^  ,it  Enoch  the  wickedness 
into  which  tlu-y  ^li.dl  i;ill  in  the  last  days,  and 
warns  them  (ls-:il);  lie  urges  them  to  love  Levi, 
and  jirediets  with  sorrow  their  apostasies  from  the 
Lord  and  the  wars  and  commotions  until  the  time 
of  Messias  (22-24).  This  shall  be  followed  by  the 
resurrection  of  the  patriarchs  (25). — (5)  Issachar, 
on  Simplicity.  Beginning  with  the  circumstances 
of  his  birth,  this  patriarch  gives  an  account  of  his 
early  life  and  marriage  (1-3),  and  points  out  his 
simplicity  and  singleness  of  mind  as  virtues  to  be 
imitated  (4-7).— (6)  Zebulun,  on  Compassion  and 
Mercy.  After  naming  himself  and  the  prosperous 
circumstances  in  whit'ii  he  was  born,  he  claims  not 
to  have  sinned  except  in  thought.  Only  in  the 
affair  of  Joseph,  which  he  describes  at  length,  lie 
had  conspired  with  his  brothers,  but  with  sorrow 
and  compassion  for  Joseph  (1-5).  He  was  the  first 
to  construct  a  boat  and  go  fishing.  He  used  the 
fish  he  caught  in  feeding  the  needy  (6.  7).  He 
urges  his  children  to  be  compassionate  (8)  and 
united  in  action  (9.  10).— (7)  Dan,  »»  Aiirjrr  ^nic! 
Lying.  This  patriarch  also  lifjin-  with'  :i  .on 
fession.  He  had  planned  to  slay  .lu~r|ili  ,,iii  ,,i 
envy,  but  the  Lord  had  witlihelil' th.-  o|.|i(.i  i  uuiu 
(1).  He  warns  his  children  :ij;:iin>t  the  ^|iiia  .if 
lying  and  anger  (2-4) ;  he  predicts  evil  days  in 
the  future,  of  which  he  hadleariu.l  from  llic  lu.oks 
of  Enoch  (5),  and  exhorts  them  to  stand  linn  in 
righteousness  (6.  7). —(8)  Naphtali,  on  Nntunil 
Goodness.  This  Testament  opens  with  an  account 
of  the  mother  of  the  patriarch,  Bilhah  (1).  It  pro- 
ceeds with  a  description  of  his  lleetness  of  foot, 
which  gives  oc.a-i.ni  for  a  vp.-cli  .ni  tlie  fitness  of 
the  body  to  tli.- .Ilh-h  t.i  ..i  ^]„■  ^..ul  (2).  He  ex- 
horts his  chil.li.  II  II.. I  1.)  t..ri.-  ih.-  ..rderof  nature 
(3.  4),  and  tells. if  n  xi-i.iii  In'  saw  wli.'u  forty  years 
of  age.  It  was  on  tlie  iMount  of  Ulive.s,  to  the  la-i 
of  Jerusalem.  The  sun  and  moon  stood  still  ; 
Jacob  called  his  .sons  to  go  and  seize  tliem.  L.  \  i 
took  hold  of  the  sun,  Judah  of  the  moon  ;  tli.\ 
were  lifted  up.  A  bull  with  two  horns  on  its  head 
and  two  wings  on  its  back  made  its  appearance. 
They  tried  to  capture  it,  and  Joseph  succeeded. 
Finally,  a  holy   writing  appeared   telling  of  the 


captivity  of  Israel  (5).  Seven  months  later  he 
saw  another  vision.  Jacob  and  his  sons  were 
standing  by  the  Sea  of  Jamnia.  A  vessel  full  of 
dried  fish  appeared  ;  hut  it  had  no  rudder  or  sails. 
They  embarked,  and  a  storm  arose.  They  were 
threatened  with  destruction ;  Levi  prayed,  and, 
though  the  vessel  was  wrecked,  they  were  saved 
upon  pieces  of  the  wreckage  (6).  Naphtali  told 
his  visions  to  his  father,  who  saw  in  them  a  token 
that  .Joseph  was  living  (7).  With  the  prediction  of 
the  Messiah  (8.  9)  the  Testament  closes.— (9)  Gad, 
o»  Hatred.  After  the  customary  account  of  him- 
self, Gad  (1)  confesses  that  he  hated  Joseph  and 
brought  about  his  sale  to  the  Ishmaelites  (2.  3). 
He  warns  his  children  against  hatred,  points  out 
its  evil,  and  urges  them  to  cherish  and  exercise 
love  (4-8).— (10)  Asher,  on  the  Two  Aspects  of  Vice 
and  Virtue.  This  patriarch  begins  with  a  por- 
traiture of  the  two  ways  open  before  men,  de- 
seribiny  each  carefully  (1.  2).  He  commends  sim- 
plieity  of  lieiul  and  devotion  to  virtue  (3),  gives 
rea^.m^  .  ti.  an.l  a^.iin  commends  the  path  of  virtue 
(5,  (J),  .  l..-iim  with  warnings  and  predictions  (7.  8). 
— (II)  .loM'].h,  I'll  Chastity.  Joseph  begins  with 
the  contrasts  between  his  many-sided  suflering 
and  God's  many-sided  help  and  deliverance  (1). 
He  then  proceeds  to  narrate  the  circumstances  of 
his  servitude  in  Egypt  (2),  his  temptation  (3-7), 
his  imprisonment  (8.  9),  and  exhorts  to  brotherly 
love  (10)  and  the  fear  of  God  (11).  He  further  goes 
back  to  tell  the  story  once  more  of  the  circum- 
stances of  the  temptation  (12-15),  and  concludes 
with  an  exhortation  to  honour  Levi  and  Judah, 
predicting  that  from  them  should  arise  the  Lamb 
of  God  (17-20).— (12)  Benjamin,  on  a  Pure  Mind. 
Benjamin  begins  by  telling  of  his  birth  (1) ;  then  of 
the  meeting  with  Joseph  in  Egypt  (2).  This  leads 
to  the  exaltation  of  Joseph  as  the  perfect  man, 
who  should  be  imitated  (3.  4).  A  pure  mind  will 
be  recognized  by  the  wicked  (5).  Beliar  himself 
cannot  mislead  the  pure-minded  (6).  There  is  a 
sevenfold  evil  in  wickedness,  and  a  sevenfold  pun- 
ishment is  to  be  measured  out  to  those  who  practise 
it  (7).  Flee  wickedness,  he  urges,  and  concludes 
with  the  prediction  of  corruption  among  his  de- 
scendants (8.  9),  and  of  the  resurrection  and  the 
judgment  which  will  follow. 

Ltterary  questions.— The  book  is  extant  in  a  Greek  text,  also 
in  a  complete  Armenian  and  fraijmentary  Syriac  and  Aramaic 
versions.  The  Latin  version,  frequently  reprinted  from  the 
16th  century  onwards,  is  Grosseteste's.  An  ancient  Latin 
translation  is  not  known  to  exist.  A  Slavonic  version  of  un- 
certain origin  is  also  published  by  Tichonravolt  (Deiikm.  d. 
altruss.  Apocr.  Litt.,  St.  Petersb.  1863). 

The  original  of  the  work  was  either  Greek  or  Hebrew.  Grabe 
fXpirihv).   Fair.  2,  1714,  I'?9-144l  arL'UPii  for  the  Hebrew.     All 


tliu  Twel' 


■eTei 


by  th. 
This  i 


tof  a  Jew, and  tl. 
The  former  of  tl. 
:ype  of  Judaism  i 
not  such  as  one 


I "l.ted  the 
-    .k  iwisorigin- 

.  ti.-ally  excluded 

sake  of  literary 


Hi  apotal,\-ptic  com- 

'  .)     The  whole  was 

r  ;.  number  of  Chris- 

,.a».    These  interpola- 

ituriesof  the  Christian 

714),    Fabricius    (Cod. 

Put.   i.   1788),   Migne 
"'    l-<69;   Sinker  also 

I'  n.L.'  of  readings  and 


APOCALYPTIC  LITERATUEE 


APOCALYPTIC  LITERATURE 


des  ApoGrypkes,  i.  1S56. 
njphische  Bucher  (Tubi  ^ 
Kautzsch'sPj>'f?»depi^r.  19110 
Pair.  ISin  ;  Reii'ss,  Geich  . ' 
'Die  Test,  der  .Ml  Patr  '  m  I 
herausg.  \.  Eeuss  unri  Cunil 
Test.  Patr.  1857;  HilgenfiM 
van  Hengel,  '  De  Tes,! 


op  nieuw  ter  sprake  gebragt  in  tiodgcleerdc  Bijdragen,  186r 
Geiger,  Jud.  Zeit.  S-  Wisi.  u  Leben,  1869,  pp.  116-135,  18": 
123-125;   Presb.  Rev.  1880;    Sclinapp,  Test,  der  Zimlr  Pat, 


10.  The  Book  of  Jubilees.  — This  book  was 
known  and  often  alluded  to  by  tlie  ancient  and 
mediaeval  ecclesiastical  writers  up  to  the  days  of 
Theodorus  Metochita  (A.D.  1332).  It  was  called 
'Jubilees'  ('The  Book  of  Jubilees'),  or  'Little 
Genesis '  (Pcu-va  Genesis,  Aeirroyiixais).  Some  time 
after  the  middle  of  the  14th  cent,  it  disappeared, 
and  was  known  only  through  the  references  to  it 
of  the  earlier  writers.  Its  recovery  in  modern 
times  was  accomplished  by  the  African  missionary 
Krapf  in  1844.  Krapf  found  an  Ethiojjic  version 
of  it  in  Abyssinia,  which  he  sent  to  Europe.  Here 
it  came  into  the  hands  of  Dillmann,  and  was  by 
him  translated  and  published  first  in  German  and 
afterwards  in  Ethiopic. 

Contents. — The  general  plan  of  this  book  follows 
so  closely  that  of  the  canonical  Genesis  that  it  will 
suffice  to  designate  some  of  its  distinctive  features 
only.  The  book  gives  a  haggadistie  version  of  the 
history  contained  in  Genesis,  including  also  Exodus 
as  far  as  ch.  14.  The  main  events  are  identical  in 
all  essential  points,  but  very  many  additions  and 
embellishments  are  introduced.  First  of  all,  the 
whole  of  time  is  represented  as  subdivided  into 
jubilee  periods,  these  into  sabbatical  periods,  and 
these  into  years.  This,  it  is  said,  was  the  original 
plan  of  God,  and  the  knowledge  of  it  was  com- 
municated to  Moses  by  revelation.  The  account 
of  the  manner  and  time  of  the  revelation  is  given 
in  ch.  1,  in  which,  further,  the  angclus  interpres 
(who  is  in  this  case  the  Angel  of  the  Presence) 
furnishes  an  outlook  into  the  future  and  foretells 
the  apostasy  of  Israel  and  her  restoration  to  God. 
In  the  rest  of  the  book  the  feasts  and  observances 
of  the  Mosaic  ritual  are  traiisfiTi  1(1  (..  i  hi' days  of 
Noah  and  Abraham,  and  in  uiii,i,il  ih,.  (•\.ii'ts  dl 
this  earlier  jieriod  are  tic;itiil  w  illi  niucli  liirdiim 
and  illustniti-il  by  Miii|.liliraiioii  and  liaditioii.  In 
the  account  .if  I  hr  Civai  ion.  an  aJ.liti.ju  is  made 
with  ri'lVivn.'.-  lo  il„.  .aval  ion  oi  I  l,r  .an-els.  The 
luminaiii',,  n^alr,!  on  llir  lourlli  day  are  said  to 
be  for  SSabbaLlis  and  lusUvals.  J^ve'  was  created 
during  the  second  week.  Therefore  the  command 
'that  their  defilement  is  to  be  seven  days  for  a 
male  child  and  fourteen  days  for  a  female.'  Adam 
is  said  to  have  been  set  to  keep  the  garden  from 
tlie  incursions  of  the  beasts  of  the  held.  Before 
tlie  Fall  animals  could  speak.  It  was  between  the 
63rd  and  70th  year  of  Adam's  life  that  Cain  was 
born ;  between  the  70th  and  77th  that  Abel  was 
born ;  between  the  77th  and  84th  that  Awan  his 
only  daughter  was  born.  Adam  and  Eve  had  nine 
other  sons  (making  twelve  children  altogether). 
The  names  of  the  wives  of  anttalihnians  are  -fiicr- 
ally  given.  Enoch's  wifi-  was  E.lna,  tho  .laimhlcr 
of  Daniel.  The  corruption  of  mankind  which  h'dto 
the  Flood  is  said  to  have  spread  tlir(nij;li  the  whole 
creation,  so  that  even  animals  were  made  subject  to 
it,  for  which  reason  they  perished  in  the  waters. 
The  Nephilim,  who  sprang  from  the  union  of  the 
sons  of  God  with  tlie  daucliti^rs  of  men,  were  set  at 
enmity  wiUi  on.' .aiadhcr,  an. I  -^Lw  each  man  his 
neiglilioui."  All.T  Ih.'  V\ I,  N.iah  .illered  a  sacri- 
fice w  hi.  h  is  .h -.lih,  .1  a-  ill  i'\cn'  [..articular  con- 
forming to  the  LevUi.;al  law.  The  feast  of  the 
first-fruits  was  observed  by  Noah.  The  feast  of 
the  New  Moon  also  had  its  origin  at  this  time. 
The  year  consists  of  13  months,  each  of  28  days,  or 


altogether  364  days.  After  the  Flood,  Mastema 
(Satan)  led  men  to  sin  through  the  building  of  the 
Tower  of  Babel  and  the  worship  of  graven  images. 
Abraham  did  not  fall  into  this  sin.  He  tried  to 
convert  his  father  from  idolatry,  and  failing  to  do 
so  he  burned  the  house  of  idols,  in  which  his 
brother  Haran  perished,  and  then  was  called  to 
leave  his  native  land.  When  Abraham  had  estab- 
lished himself  in  the  Land  of  Canaan,  and  Ishmael 
and  Isaac  were  born,  after  Hagar  and  Ishmael 
had  been  sent  away,  Mastema  appeared  before  God 
to  move  him  to  try  Abraham  by  demanding  tlie 
offering  of  his  son  Isaac.  Nine  other  events  in 
Abraham's  life  were  trials,  thus  making  the  com- 
plete number  ten.  Before  his  death,  Abraham 
addressed  his  son  Isaac,  advising  and  warning  him 
against  idolatry.  When  he  was  about  to  die,  he 
called  Jacob  his  grandson  and,  taking  his  fingers, 
closed  his  own  eyes  with  them  and  stretched  him- 
self on  his  bed.  Jacob  fell  asleep  with  his  fingers 
on  his  grandfather's  eyes.  When  he  awoke,  he 
found  that  Abraham  was  cold  and  dead.  The 
aflair  of  Jacob's  obtaining  Esau's  blessing  from 
liis  father  is  narrated  so  as  to  eliminate  direct 
falsehood.  When  Isaac  asks,  '  Who  art  thou  ? ' 
Jacob  answers  simply,  '  I  am  thy  son.'  The  story 
of  the  massacre  of  the  Shechemites  by  Simeon  and 
Levi  is  also  softened,  so  as  to  justify  the  deed. 
The  relations  of  Jacob  and  Esau  are  presented  in  a 
light  entirely  unfavourable  to  Esau,  who  is  made 
to  act  the  part  of  a  cowardly  and  cunning  traitor. 
In  the  story  of  Joseph,  the'  elements  of  envy  and 
cruelty  on  the  part  of  his  Imdlir.-ii  ai.-  l.'ft  out. 
The  account  of  Jacob's  death  i-  ijimii  without  his 
final  addresses  to  his  sons,  ii  i^  Miii|i!y  -aid  that 
he  bles.sed  his  sons.  The  deatli  of  .h.'s.-ph  gives 
occasion  for  the  mention  of  a  new  king  wlio  ruled 
over  Egypt  after  Memkeron,  thus  intimating  the 
end  of  the  Shepherd  dynasty.  In  the  account 
of  Moses'  early  life,  Hebrew  maidens  are  repre- 
sented as  serving  Pharaoh's  daughter.  The  last 
chapter  is  occupied  altogether  with  the  Sabbath 
law,  which  is  given  with  great  precision  and 
rigidity. 

Ut'i-ani  qiifnti&ns. — The  book  is  preserved  as  a  whole  in  an 
i;Oii.>],i<-  M  iNi.:>n.  A  fragment,  containing  about  one-third  of  it, 
is  :ilsn  tniin.l  ill  Latin,  probably  made  from  a  Greek  copy.  In 
u.l.litinii  In   tliese,  some  smaller  Syriac  aii.l  Greek  fragments 

language,  but  whether  Hebrew  'n-    \r :     m  ■    MKolutely 

certain.     Hebrew  was  more  usual) \  lii    ;    ,  .        uh  apoca- 

lyptic books.    Jerome,  moreover.  ;ilhi(l      i  i::    i. Cenesis' 

as  a  book  in  Hebrew.  But  neitli.  i  ni  i!m  -  .  iiM.lr  rations  is 
quite  decisive.  In  using  the  term  •  llet.r.w,  .lerume  did  not 
always  keep  in  mind  the  distinction  between  that  language  and 
Aramaic.  He  followed  the  NT  habit  of  calling  Aramaic  Hebrew 
(Jn  1913),  In  favour  of  an  Aramaic  original,  the  use  of  the  form 
Mastema  as  the  name  of  Satan  may  be  adduced.  Mastema  is 
the  Aphel  form  from  Dnb'  'to  accuse,'  and  DDt'  is  Aramaic  for 
|aV'.  Further,  it  is  said  that  when  Abraham  left  Mesopotamia 
he  took  with  him  the  books  of  his  father  (122»),  '  and  they  were 
written  in  Hebrew,'  which  would  be  uncalled  for  if  the  account 
itself  was  in  Hebrew. 

The  date  of  the  book  is  approximately  fixed  by  its  relation  to 
Eth.  Enoch  on  one  side,  and  the  Testaments  of  the  Twelve 
Patriarchs  on  the  other.  The  Ethiopic  Enoch  is  undoubtedly 
known  and  used  bv  the  author  of  .luliilec-s  (cf.  Jub  21  =  Enoch 
■.i;    .Tub    7  -  Kiio.-h  7:    .I'll.   1"  -  Fnofli  laJ '• ;     .lab  '_'  =  Enoch 


1861 ;  Charles,  Anecdota 

in  Biblioth.  Sacra,  1886- 

iw,  iKin,  pp.  184-217  and 

l.illi.iann  (as   above); 


90   APOCALYPTIC  LITERATURE 


APOCALYPTIC  LITERATURE 


LirERATURE.— Jellinek,  Ub.  d.  Bucli.  d.  Juh.  u.  das  Xoah- 
Buck.  ISSo;  Beer,  d.  Buch.  d.  Jttb.  v.  sein  yerhiillmss  z.  d. 
J/idrascAim,  1856;  Frankel  in  .l/o>m*sSf/irtr'(  f.  Ge^cl,.  u.  Il'iss. 
(.'.  Jiid.  185B ;  HUgenfeld,  ZWTh,  1S74,  pp.  435-441. 

11.  The  Ascension  of  Isaiah,  —  The  ancients 
allude  to  non-canonieal  literature  associated  with 
the  name  of  Isaiah  under  four  different  titles. 
Origen  speaks  of  the  Martyrdom  of  Isaiah;  Epi- 
phanius  names  an  Anabatikon,  and  Jerome  an 
Ascension ;  in  the  list  of  canonical  and  kindred 
books  published  by  Montfaucon  (given  by  West- 
cott.  Canon  of  the  Neto  Testament,  App.  1),  xvii), 
a  Vision  (Spaat^)  of  Isaiah  is  included.  Of  these, 
the  Vision  is  again  named  by  Euthymius  Ziga- 
benus  in  the  11th  cent.,  and  a  Testament  of  Hcze- 
kiah  is  spoken  of  by  Georgiu.s  Cedrenus  in  the  12th 
century.  Whatever  the  facts  may  have  been  as  to 
the  identity  of  these  \Mitiii,i:>  m  tlnir  relations  to 
one  another,  nothing  was  Uilinit.'ly  known  of  them 
until  1819,  when  Archbishop  I, aw  iMice  accidentally 
found  an  Ascension  of  Isaiah  in  a  second-hand 
bookstore  in  London.  It  -was  an  Ethiopic  text, 
and  Lawrence  published  it  with  a  translation  and 
notes.  Upon  this,  together  with  two  otlier  JLSS., 
later  brought  to  light,  Dillmann  based  his  edition 
of  the  Ethiopic  Ascension  of  Isaiah  in  1877. 

Contents. — The  work  consists  of  two  parts. 

Part  I.  (1-5).  In  the  •26th  year  of  Hezekiah, 
Isaiah  predicts  that  jSIanasseh  would  be  led  by 
Satan  to  apostatize.  Hezekiah  wishes  to  slay  his 
son,  but  is  prevented  by  the  prophet  (1).  After 
the  death  of  Hezekiah,  I^Ianasseli  does  give  him- 
self up  to  the  service  of  Satan  and  practises  all 
manner  of  wickedness.  Isaiah  takes  refuge  in  the 
desert  (2).  Balkira,  a  Samaritan,  accuses  the  pro- 
phet of  uttering  threats  against  Jerusalem  and 
raising  himself  above  Moses  in  authority,  where- 
upon Manasseh,  possessed  by  Satan,  causes  tlie 
capture  of  Isaiah  (3'-'-).  The  reason  for  this  is 
the  wrath  of  Satan,  roused  by  Isaiah's  disclosures 
regarding  the  coming  of  Christ  from  the  seventh 
heaven,  regarding  His  death.  His  resurrection.  His 
ascension.  His  second  coming,  tlie  seudiuLr  of  tlie 
twelve  ai.eii.h-,  the  pei^eeutions  of  the'riumli, 
the  aa^t■l,t  ol  A  l.li.  hii^t .  a.ul  hi.  .l.-tiurUo,, 
(:i'-4-^i.  Maiia-.'h  eau.es  l-aiah  lo  U-  .auii 
asunder,  and  the  lii-ophet  eu.hues  the  luartyiaoin 
with  steadfast  calmness  in  spite  of  the  derision  uf 
Balkira  and  Satan  (5). 

Part  II.  (6-11).  In  the  twentieth  j-ear  of  Heze- 
kiali,  Isaiah  saw  a  vision  which  he  narrated  tu  the 
king  and  council  of  prominent  men  (6) :  an  angel 
took  him  through  the  firmament  and  through 
the  six  lower  heavens  into  the  seventh.  Here  he 
saw  the  departed  patriarchs — Adam,  Abel,  and 
Enoch— and  God  Himself.  He  learned  that  Christ 
should  come  into  the  earth  ;  and  having  received 
this  information,  he  was  led  by  tlie  same  angel 
back  into  the  firmament  (7-10).  In  the  firma- 
ment he  saw  the  future  birth,  life,  sullering, 
death,  resurrection  and  ascension  of  Jesus  into 
the  seventh  heaven.  The  angel  left  him,  and 
Isaiah's  soul  returned  into  his  earthly  body.  It 
was  because  of  this  vision,  which  he  had  related  to 
Hezekiah,  that  Manasseh  caused  Isaiah  to  1  e  i)Ut 
to  death  (11). 

Literary  qnett ions.— The  sijriis  of  "  f  the 

book  are  too  plain  to  require  critical  •!'  ^ac-s- 

tion  is  simply  whether  it  consists  oi  '  n.le- 

pendent  writinjfs.    The  umsl  ubxiun-  i  Tlie 

Vision  "I    ]-i    ii  .n.t  Inim  the 

MartM't            I  '    >  ulym,  which  it 

would  ]■•■■■!  ..lunce  of  inde- 

penilrii'  11  enlarged  by 

theatl.l                                                             ,  ,           ,.  ,  in  the  »e<onil 
part.    'I:   .-  •                      ,  :_ii)  till-  Murt.M-.l.iiii  M"  I-.iiMi  II  :, 

(3)Am"i'.: 

later  L'l.i  - 


Iter  hand  (U  (4) 
-.1,  and  11-';b).  T1 
■iilly  accepted 


ilso  widely  apar 


inson  in  Hastm-s'  PB  d.  i'J-J  ;  Chaik-s,  .4so=„s,u„  ./  Jsaiah. 

12.  The  Histories  of  Adam  and  Eve.— This  work 
appears  under  two  main  forms,  almost  as  distinct 
as  two  works :  one  in  Greek  and  one  in  Latin. 
The  Greek  is  entitled  Narrative  and  Citizenship  of 
Adam  and  Eve  (iii^^ijcris).  It  was  publishedT  by 
Tischendorf  in  1866  (Apocal.  Apocr.  pp.  1-23)  under 
the  misleading  title  of  '  The  Apocalypse  of  Moses.' 
The  Latin  version  is  entitled  Vita  Ada:  ct  EvcB, 
and  was  published  by  W.  jNIeyer  {Abhandl.  d. 
Munrhc.  Akad.  Phil.-Hist.  Klasse  xiv.  3,  1878, 
pp.  IS". -Jriiii.  A  third  slightly  varying  form  e.xists 
in  Sl,i\oiii-  .  aiel  a  fourth  in  Armenian.  Both  of 
the-r  .11. ■  ti..iii  the  Greek  narrative. 

C"i:f<  iit.i. —  Thestoryopens  with  an  account  of  the 
deeds  of  Adam  and  Eve  immediately  following  tlie 
expulsion  from  the  Garden  of  Eden.  Adam  and 
Eve  seek  for  food,  experience  dilficidties  in  obtain- 
ing it,  and  perfoi m  penance  in  order  to  secure  God's 
mercy  (l-8i.  >:i!aii  ..u..-  luore  tempts  Eve  (9-11), 
and  narrate,  i:  iii.  i.  |u  -t  of  Adam  the  circum- 
stances of  hi.  ...ill  lall  |1_'-17).  Then  follows  an 
account  of  the  imih  ui  Cain  and  Abel,  and  Adam 
is  taught  how  to  cultivate  the  soil  (18-22).  Eve 
dreams  of  Abel's  death,  which  presently  occurs ; 
but  Seth  and  other  children  are  born  to  Adam  and 
Eve  (23.  24).  Adam  informs  Seth  of  a  vision  given 
him  through  the  archangel  Michael,  after  he  and 
Eve  had  been  cast  out  of  Eden.  It  was  a  chaiiot 
siuiilar  to  the  wind,  but  with  wheels  of  fire.  The 
I.iM.l  sat  upon  it,  and  many  thousand  angels  stood 
.11  II 1.  1  i-ht  handandou  His  left.  Adam  addressed 
a  1  ia\ri  tu  the  Lord,  and  the  Lord  assured  him 
that  tho.e  who  should  know  and  serve  Himself 
H  uuld  not  fail  from  the  seed  of  Adam.  Adam  en- 
joins Seth  to  receive  this  knowledge  and  keep  it 
(25-29).  At  the  age  of  930,  Adam  falls  sick,  and, 
calling  his  sons  together,  once  more  tells  them  of 
the  circumstances  of  the  Fall  (30-34).  He  then 
sends  Eve  and  Seth  to  the  vicinity  of  Paradise  in 
order  that,  putting  dust  upon  their  heuds,  they 
might  plead  for  him  and  receive  some  of  the  oil  of 
life  to  anoint  hiin  (35.  36).  On  the  way  they  are 
met  by  the  Serpent,  which  bites  Setli,  but  is  per- 
suaded by  Eve  to  let  him  go  (37-39).  They  reach 
the  gates  of  Paradise,  present;  their  petition,  but, 
instead  of  the  oil  for  >\  hich  they  hacl  asked,  they 
receive  the  promise  of  a  blessing  in  the  distant 
future  (40-42).  They  return  to  Adam,  and  report 
their  experiences  (43.  44).  Adam  then  dies  and  is 
buried  (45-51). 

The  Dicgesis  gives  a  parallel  account  of  the  Fall 
by  Eve  (15-30),  of  Adam's  last  will  and  death  (30, 
31),  of  the  intercession  of  the  entire  angel  host 
in  behalf  of  forgiveness  for  .A.daiu  (33-36),  of  the 
acceptance  of  the  prayer  (37),  of  the  burial  of 
.\daui  by  the  angel  (38-42),  and  of  Eve's  death  and 
burial  (42,  43).       ' 

Literary  questions.— Taa  book  (or  couplet  of  books)  is  found 
in  three  recensions,  Greek,  Latin,  and  Slavonic.  It  is  based  on 
a  Jewish  original  (Tischendorf,  Conybeare,  Spitta,  Hariiack, 
lu.hs).  Others,  however,  do  not  believe  in  the  Jewish  original 
.  hiirer,  Gelzer). 

1  hu  date  of  the  composition  is  uncertain.  Tlie  author  was  a 
>  A-.  [Hort,  however,  finds  traces  of  Cliristiaii  inAueiice,  and 
.   :■  u-atcs  the  .\daiii  story  to  post-Chrislian  times.] 

;;i(i(iu(is.— UieekText:  Tischendorf,  J/^i'cu/y/isPi-.liJOOwAa, 


APOCALYPTIC  LITERATURE 


APOCALYPTIC  LITERATURE   91 


1866;  Wilh.  Meyer,  Vita  Ada;  et  7?c(r.— Enclish  translations; 
in  Schafl  and  Wace's  Ante-Sn^  „■■  i  / ,  ,,,/,.,„  I.ihrarij,  vol.  xxii.; 
Conybearein  J'Q/f  vii.  lS!i,j,  I  ,       '  i ;.  inrni :  ii((cra(K)-- 

blatt.  d.  Orients,  I8b0,  fv    •      "  'I   i  lis  in  Kautzsch's 

Pseudepirjr.  1900. 


Siiiilh  and  Wace's 


.■1./V. 


13.  The  Apocalypse  of  Abraham. — This  i.s  a 
work  preserved  only  in  a  Slavonic  translation.  It 
was  published  in  that  language  (1863),  hut  only 
made  known  more  widely  through  a  German  trans- 
lation  by  Bonwetsch  (1897).  It  tells  of  how  Abra- 
ham took  ofi'ence  at  the  idolatry  of  his  father,  how 
he  despised  both  the  wooden  image  Barisat  and 
the  stone  statue  Marumath,  and  was  on  that  ground 
made  tlie  subject  of  a  special  visit  on  the  part  of 
the  angel  Jaoel,  who  taught  him  to  offer  sacrifice, 
and  then  took  him  into  heaven  on  the  wings  of  a 
dove.  Here  Abraham  received  many  revelations. 
This  work  should  not  be  mistaken  for  tlie  Testa- 
ment of  Abraham,  edited  by  James  in  the  Cam- 
bridge Texts  and  Sfid/irs  (ii.  2,  1892). 

14.  The  Apocalypse  of  Ellas.— Mention  of  this 
work  occurs  in  (_)i  i^cn's  C'lnii.  on  Mt  27'  (ed.  de  la 
Rue,  iii.  916 ;  ed.  Lumiuatzscli,  v.  29).  Here  it  is 
said  to  he  the  source  from  which  St.  Paul  quotes 
1  Co  2»  '  Eye  hath  not  seen,'  etc.  Cf.  also  Epi- 
phanius,  H(er.  42  [Dindorf,  ii.  398] ;  and  Jerome, 
£pist.  57  act  Pammachium.  Fragments  of  this 
writing  have  been  recovered  in  a  Coptic  manu- 
script brought  from  Akhmim.  Some  of  these  frag- 
ments were  taken  to  Paris  and  some  to  Berlin. 
Those  in  the  former  place  have  been  edited  and 
published  by  Bouriant ;  those  in  Berlin  by  Stein- 
dorff  {Texte  u.  Unters.,  Neue  Folge,  ii.  3a).  This 
editor  thinks  that  the  original  was  a  Jewish  apoca- 
lypse interpolated  by  a  later  Christian  writer. 

15.  The  Apocalypse  of  Zephaniah.— This  was  a 
larger  work  than  the  preceding,  and  «as  known  to 
Clement  of  Alexandria  (,S7ra/H.  v.  11.  77).  Among 
the  Akhmim  fragments  published  by  Bouriant  and 
Steindorff  there  are  portions  of  this  apocalypse 
also,  but  they  are  not  extensive  enough  to  serve 
as  a  basis  of  any  trustworthy  judgment  as  to  its 
origin  and  nature.  The  extracts  recovered  do  not, 
however,  contain  Christian  interpolations. 

16.  An  Anonymous  Apocalypse.— The  Akhmim 
fragments  contain,  in  atldition  to  the  above,  por- 
tions of  a  purely  Jewish  apocalypse,  which  cannot 
be  identihed  or  associated  with  any  special  name. 
The  author,  speaking  in  the  first  person,  names 
Elias  among  other  saints  wliom  he  has  seen  in 
heaven  (14).  The  fragments  are  published  along 
with  Steindorff's  above-named  edition  of  the  Akh- 
mim manuscripts. 

17.  The  Prayer  of  Joseph — Origen  (ed.de  la  Rue, 
iv.  84 ;  Lommatzsch,  i.  147)  calls  this  '  a  writing 
not  to  be  despised,  current  among  the  Hebrews.' 
Nothing,  however,  besides  Origen's  quotations  from 
it,  is  known  of  the  contents  of  the  work. 

18.  The  Book  of  Eldad  and  Modad.  — These 
names  [EV  Medad]  occur  in  Nu  ll-'"--''.  A  book 
bearing  this  name  is  mentioned  in  Hernias'  Shep- 
herd ( Vis.  ii.  3),  but  nothing  more  is  known  of  it 
with  certainty. 

iv.  General  Charactekistics.  —  The  general 
characteristics  of  apocalyptic  literature  may  not 
all  be  found  in  ideal  vividness  in  any  single  pro- 
duction of  the  class.  Nevertlieless,  'in  so  -  called 
apocalypses,  most  of  the  following  traits  are  pre- 
dominant, and,  with  tlie  majority  of  them,  all 
appear  in  somt-  di-uivr  ,,i  rlparness. 

1.  The  Vist'ui  F,,r,„.  i'his  is  what  gives  the 
name  to  the  clu-^,  .inil,  .ildmugh  not  an  indispens- 
able feature,  is  quite  clcl.iiniiiativp.  The  authors 
put  themselves  in  the  plar..  (,f  ^c.is,  and  thiow 
upon  the  canvas  large,  \i\i.l,  lit.Hlvr  [lurtraitures. 
The  imagery  is  in  many  r:i.-,i.,  i,iiil;isiii'  .uid  unreal 
as  compared  with  the  actual  wurlJ,  but  it  is  strik- 


ing and  clearly  drawn.  Conflicts  and  struggles, 
judicial  assize.s,  conversations  and  debates,  as  well 
as  cosmographical  delineations,  are  placed  before 
the  eyes  of  the  seer,  and  by  him  described  more  or 
less  in  detail. 

2.  Dualism. — The  distinction  between  the  world 
of  sense  and  the  world  of  Divine  or  spiritual  reali- 
ties is  always  prominently  in  the  mind.  The  other 
world  IS,  however,  conceived  as  only  imperceptible 
to  the  bodily  senses,  not  as  different  in  kind.  A 
dualism  as  between  matter  and  spirit  underlies  the 
philosophy  of  the  apocalypse,  but  is  necessarily 
ignored  in  the  presentation  of  the  realities  of  the 
spiritual.  Tliese  are  put  before  the  bodily  senses 
as  if  a  simple  heightening  of  the  powers  of  the 
senses  would  bring  tliem  into  view. 

3.  Symhulhiii.  rill-  vi.^iiiii^  ijuilrayed  abound  in 
conventional  ^viiiImiUi  ;il  li^iirc-;.  Mixed  organisms, 
partaking  or  the  |i,irts  ;inil  rliaraoteristics  of 
different creatuii's(l.iM.:-l- 1,  frciiurntly  recur.  Gener- 
ally the  diti'erent  parts  that  enter  into  these  mixed 
Hgures  represent  ditlerent  abstract  principles,  and 
the  mixed  figure  as  a  whole  stands  for  combina- 
tions of  powers.  Mystic  and  symbolic  numbers, 
too,  constantly  aiipear  (seven  heavens,  seven  arch- 
angels, ten  shepherds).  Sometimes  this  symbolism 
is  ux|iUuiied  ill  minute  terms,  but  sometimes  it  is 
left  for  tlie  seer  to  unravel.  SoniPtimes  the  pur- 
pose of  tlie  use  of  such   syinhnli-in   ^eenis   to   be 

simply  to   harmonize  the  f >\    I'lr-inLition  to 

the  mysterious  nature  of  the  >iihjei  t m.ater  ;  but 
at  other  times  it  is  evidently  designed  to  conceal 
the  exact  import  of  the  revelation  from  the  un- 
initiated, and  to  keep  it  a  secret  within  an  esoteric 
circle.  The  nietho<r  of  interpretation  known  as 
Geiiiatria  is  tn  this  end  fre.|uentl\   requited  to. 

4.  .1//'/. /'</</</,/. -A  s\  ,|eiii  ()!'  n'leiliai.ii- between 
the  twi,   uuihls  is    iiiriiiie,!    .-,,   .-Libli-hin-  their 

the  OT  (with  the  exrepti.iii  of  Daniel],  this  media- 
torial hieraicby   is    r,,nii,le\    and    detinite.      It   is, 

andtheevil,  which  .aie  at  enniily  «ith  i.ne  another. 
In  some  apocalypses  one  iiarli(iilar  aii^el  is  com- 
missioned to  the  task  of  aetiiiu  as  ihe  n.inpanion 
and  friendly  interpreter  of  the  s.ei-  [I'li^/rlKs  inter- 
pres).  To  him  the  seer  appeals  in  his  ignorance  of 
the  meaning  of  the  mystic  visions,  and  from  him 
he  receives  needed  explanations.  Here,  too,  a 
difference  must  be  noted  between  the  apocalypses 
and  the  earlier  prophets  (cf.  Am  7-9),  who  see 
visions,  but  speak  directly  with  the  Almighty  in 
person. 

5.  The  Unknown  as  subject-matter. — The  subject- 
matter  revealed  concerns  one  of  two  spheres,  viz., 
either  the  inscrutable  mechanism  of  the  other 
world,  or  the  purposes  of  God  regarding  the  present 
world  :  (rt)  Under  the  first  head  are  portrayed  the 
characteristics,  deeds,  and  destinies  of  angels,  both 
good  and  evil,  the  secret  forces  and  courses  of  the 
great  nature-powers  and  elements,  and  the  mode 
of  the  Creation,  (b)  Under  the  second  head  natur- 
ally tu...lniM,.nsaiv<li-.tinuuishable,  the  historical 
and  the  ,-Mli:,i.ih,jicaL  Snrh  ;:ieai  landmarks  in 
the  hislun  ol  lln'  u,.iM  as  the  .■ntianre  ot  sin,  the 
fortunes  ni  llie  lii-t  human  pair,  the  l-'hjod,  the 
destinies  of  Israel,  are  uiM'ii  as  known  and  decreed 


Th.'     ulmh-    e 

rliatohr'N 

,    including  the 

linal    jm 

gmrnt,    the     M 

•4e,    the   fate  of 

mankim 

,  the  resurrei'ti. 

nof  tlH.> 

ead,  and  the  de- 

structioi 

of  the  world,  : 

re  of  the 

utmost  interest 

to  the  apocalyptist.  In  fact,  so  prominent  is  this 
part  of  the  world  of  mystery  in  the  apocalypses, 
that  some  authorities  have  yielded  to  the  tempta- 
tion of  inakini;  it  the  s,,le  test  of  an  apocalypse. 
Apocalyptii'  i-.  annr.linj  lo  this  view,  synonymous 
with  eschatului;n  al.  i-S.i  Liicke,  and,  among  more 
recent  scholar.,,  Uuusset). 


APOCALYPTIC  LITERATURE 


APOCALYPTIC  LITERATURE 


6.  PscHclonymity. — Tlie  author  of  an  apocalypse 
generally  assumes  the  name  of  a  very  ancient 
person,  preferably  of  some  one  who  is  represented 
in  the  canonical  books  as  having  enjoyed  direct 
commumcation  Anth  the  spiritual  world.  Enoch, 
Moses,  and  Elijah  stand  out  as  those  who  passed 
from  this  world  to  the  other  in  a  preternatural 
manner,  and  therefore  were  favoured  even  while 
here  with  apocalyptic  glimpses  of  the  other.  Others, 
because  of  their  exceptional  holiness  and  nearness 
to  God,  are  easily  put  into  the  same  place  of  favour. 
Such  are  Isaiah,  Ezra,  Baruch,  and  Daniel.  The 
name  of  Ezekiel,  however,  quite  singularly  does 
not  seem  to  have  drawn  any  of  these  writings  to 
itself.  Jeremiah's  began  to  be  used,  but  did  not 
become  very  popular.  That  of  Solomon  was 
attached  to  a  body  of  psalms  for  quite  obvious 


The  Sibyl  was  probably  drafted  into  the 
service  in  order  to  gain  the  conhdence  of  heathen 
readers  through  the  use  of  the  voice  of  a  trusted  pro- 

J)hetess  of  their  own.  It  was  intended  to  propagate 
fewish  doctrines  among  the  Gentiles  (Schiirer). 
This  pseudonymity  is  accompanied  by  a  not  alto- 
gether accidental  tendency  to  tamper  with  the 
apocalypses.  IMore  than  any  other  class  of  AViit- 
ings  they  show  signs  of  haWng  been  edited  and 
mollified.  Many  <jf  them  are  manifestly  collec- 
tions mi  i'.ii;[.il;i)  ill ;-,,,!  smaller  productions.  Others 
abouii.l   II  !  .    ,  M.iiis  anil   additions  designed 

toemli'  I.;       '      I   I    ,  mill  i-\i.and  tlieiriiortraibm-es. 

7.  C/'/'-.M  .'.  I  hi- ilu.-ign  of  the -.vliole  class  is 
predominantly  that  of  encouraging  and  comfort- 
ing the  chosen  people  under  persecution.  Some, 
of  course,  are  more  or  less  sectarian  in  their  ten- 
dency, i.e.  they  address  their  words  of  encourage- 
ment and  hope  to  a  particular  section  of  the 
people,  who  are  regarded  as  faithful  or  righteous 
par  exi-elletice.  The  majority  are  meant  to  teach 
and  comfort  the  whole  nation. 

v.  Theological  Ideas.— The  root  of  the  apoca- 
lyptic theology  is  the  sense  of  need.  Though  it 
may  not  be  strictly  accurate  to  call  the  apoca- 
lypses '  tracts  for  hard  times,'  it  is  quite  true  that 
they  issue  from  a  faith  which  looks  to  God  for 
deliverance  from  evil  days.  The  eye  is  turned 
into  the  future  for  the  good  which  the  God  of  the 
Covenant  has  promised  to  Israel.  The  darker  the 
outlook,  the  brighter  the  hope  which  breaks 
through  it  and  sees  ultimate  victory.  The  rally- 
ing point  of  thought  is  here  furnished  by  the 
conception  of  the  '  Day  of  Jahweh '  in  the  pro- 
phets of  the  earlier  period.  But  this  hope  for  the 
future  is  impatient.  It  cannot  await  the  workmg 
of  the  slow  moral  forces  gradually  evolving  the 
consummation.  It  rather  sees  the  Golden  Age 
bursting  forth  in  a  sudden  and  supernatural  mani- 
festation of  God's  power  and  favour  to  His  chosen 
people.  Accoidingly,  the  cardinal  doctrines  of  the 
apocalyptic  theology  must  begin  with  the  contrast 
of  the  ages. 

1.  T/ic  doctrine  of  the  two  jEons  (4  Ezr  1^).— 
This  is  developed  from  the  older  idea  of  the  '  latter 
days'  (D-C'rinnqx)  which  the  earlier  prophets  always 
held  up  as  a  source  of  comfort  and  encoui'agement 
whenever  they  were  moved  to  denounce  the  exist- 
ing evils  of  their  day.  A  great  day  of  Jehovah 
would  bring  about  the  righting  of  all  that  >\as 
wrong  with  the  world.  In  the  apocal3-pses,  all 
that  precedes  the  critical  day  is  summed  up  under 
the  conception  of  the  present  age  (ai'wv  ofiros,  o^iy 
niri) ;  the  future,  with  its  ideally  gootl  conditions, 
is  tlie  coming  age  (ai'uii'  6  li^xkuiv,  ipxofi.ei>os,  oViy 
urn).  The  noteworthy  feature  about  the  concep- 
tion of  the  a'ons  is  that  each  is  a  culien  nl  uiiiiy. 
and  has  a  character  of  its  own.  The  pii^iiu  :iu. 
is  unpropitious,  evil  (4  Ezr  7'-) ;  the  futun-  will  Im 

good.     The  past  is  the  age  of  the  world  kinud 

portrayed  under  the  symbolic  iigure  of  beasU  ;  the 


future,  the  age  of  the  Divine  reign ;  it  has  a  human 
aspect.  All  this  is  put  forth  as  a  source  of  com- 
fort and  encouragement  to  the  faithful.  The 
duration  of  the  evil  age  is  variously  computed. 
Enoch  makes  it  10,000  years  (Eth.  Enoch  16^  W^ 
21*) ;  in  the  Assumption  of  Moses  it  is  5000 ;  at 
any  rate,  it  is  definite  and  near  its  end.  It  is 
soon  to  ija>s  away.  The  question  is  even  uertinent 
whrllii  I  ilhi-i-  Hxini;  shall  continue  to  the  end  of 
it.      I  :     i  1' ill.  liowever, is  not  answered  (4 Ezr 

4^'.-.       /I        --w      l':'l-4n^ 

■J.  /  /  '  "';'  nilniif  I  'risis. — The  passing  of  the  old 
will  be  accompanied  by  great  chantjes  in  nature. 
The  order  of  things  will  be  reversed.  The  moon 
will  alter  her  course,  and  not  appear  at  her  ap- 
pointed times  ;  the  stars  shall  wander  from  their 
orbits  and  be  concealed  (Eth.  Enoch  80*"').  Trees 
will  flow  with  blood,  and  stones  will  ciy  out  (Syr. 
Bar  27).  In  the  heavens,  dread  signs  of  porten- 
tous significance  will  appear  (Sib.  Or  S'^-sm) 
Fountains  will  dry  up,  the  earth  will  refuse  to 
yield  ;  the  heavens  will  be  tui-ned  into  brass  ;  the 
rains  will  fail,  and  springs  of  waters  will  be  dried 
up.  Among  men,  wars  and  rumours  of  wars  will 
prevail  (Eth.  Enoch  99\  4  Ezr  9^),  and  private 
feuds  and  recklessness  of  the  life  of  men  will  be 
the  rule  (Eth.  Enoch  100= ;  Sib.  Or  3«a-"',  Syr. 
Bar  483-  703).  "Women  will  cease  to  be  fniitful, 
and  miscaiTiages  will  occur  (4  Ezr  5^  C^')-  These 
are  the  apxv  uSivav  of  Mt  24*,  Mk  IS^. 

3.  The  Conception,  of  God  is  more  definitely 
anthropomorphic  than  in  the  earlier  period.  He 
is  pictured  by  the  apocalyptists  as  seated  on  the 
highest  heaven,  and  surrounded  by  a  host  of 
attendants.  In  the  Slavonic  Enoch,  in  the  Ascen- 
sion of  Isaiah,  in  the  Greek  Baruch,  and  in  "eneral 
in  all  the  apocalypses,  God  is  regarded  as  a 
monarch  with  an  army  to  tight  His  battles,  and 
a  retinue  of  servants  to  execute  His  ordere. 
Much  of  this  is  naturally  a  part  of  the  dra[)ery 
of  the  vision,  but  it  all  tends  to  accentuate  the 
gulf  which  separates  God  from  man.  Especially 
where  the  anthropomorphism  is  conscious  of  its 
own  inadequacy,  and  is  combined  with  descrip- 
tions of  the  fearfulness  of  God's  person,  the  idea  of 
transcendency  is  accentuated,  and  be"ius  to  domi- 
nate the  apocalyptists"  thought  of  God. 

4.  The  cosnwlogy  is  a  corollary  of  the  transcen- 
dence of  Gtod.  Tlie  distance  between  heaven,  His 
dwelling-place,  and  earth,  the  abode  of  man,  is 
enlarged  and  filled  with  six  stages,  making  alto- 
getlier  seven  heavens.  These  are  minutely  de- 
scribed in  the  Slavonic  Enoch,  the  Ascension  of 
Isaiah,  the  Greek  Bamch  (cf.  also  Test.  Lev.  2 
and  3).  The  substance  of  which  these  heavens  are 
made  is  light,  or  rather  luminous  matter  (Eth.  En 
148-1:5)  The  language  is  not  metaphorical.  This 
light  becomes  fuller  and  more  intense  as  one 
approaches  the  throne  of  God  Himself.  With  God 
are  to  be  found  in  this  sphere  the  forces  and 
persons  that  wage  His  warfare  and  serve  to  carry 
out  His  plans.  Besides  the  hierarchy  of  angels 
(already  spoken  of),  there  are  here  the  abodes  of 
the  sun,  moon,  stars,  and  nature-powers  ;  also  the 
Messiah,  ready  to  be  manifesteil  at  the  j)roper 
time. 

5.  An  arch-enemy  called  Beliar,  Mastema,  Aza- 
zel  (Satan),  at  every  point  undertakes  to  thwart 
the  jiurposes  of  God.  It  was  he  who  tenipted 
and  iiii-Ifd  A(hun  and  Eve  in  the  Garden  of  Eden 
(Lif  I'l'  A'I'ini  iniil  Ere).  As  he  takes  on  himself 
a  iiiiiiv  .iiiil  a|i|"ais  on  earth  in  order  to  defeat 
tlic  M'.--i:ili.  he  is  Antichrist.      In  this  capacity  he 


APOCALYPTIC  LITERATUEE 


APOCALYPTIC  LITERATURE   93 


are  looked  upon  as  affecting  all  men.  They  have 
one  cause  for  all.  The  world  was  created  for  the 
sake  of  man  (4  Ezr  S«,  Syr.  Bar  U'%  Similarly, 
the  plans  of  God  have  in  view  the  welfare  of  men 
as  such.  The  blessings  of  the  Messianic  age  come 
to  men  in  general,  although  with  varying  degrees 
of  fulness  (Sib.  Or  3^'<'-  '«™-).  But  the  distinction 
between  those  who  please  God  by  obeying  His  law 
and  those  who  do  not  is  never  lost  sight  of.  Israel 
is  His  chosen  people,  and  He  has  given  it  the  Law  ; 
but  the  Israelite  who  transgresses  the  Law  is 
punished,  whereas  the  Gentile  who  observes  the 
Sabbath  shall  be  holy  and  blessed  like  'us,' says 
the  author  of  Jubilees. 

7.  .S'm.— All  misery  among  men  is  the  result  of 
sin,  and  the  fall  of  tlie  lirst  pair  in  the  Garden  of 
Eden  is  the  cause  of  it.  This  is  predominantly  the 
lesson  of  the  Life  of  Adam  and  Eve  ;  but  it  is  also 
clearly  put  in '4  Ezra  and  in  the  Syriac  Baruch 
(Tennant,  The  Soiirccn  of  the  Doctrine  of  the  Fall 
and  Original  Sin,  1905). 

8.  Thi'  raviiiir,  .lA .v,v/»/,.— The  central  develop- 
ment of  aiionilyptic  liti'i.iliire  is  the  figure  of  the 
Messiah:  Imt  it  i<  imwln're  outlined  so  clearly  as 
in  the  Ethidpic  Enoch.  He  is  here  designated  as 
the  Son  of  IMan  ;  He  is  also  called  the  Righteous 


One,  the  Elect  One,  the  Elect  of  Rightec 
and  the  Faithful  One,  and  the  Anointed  One. 
He  is  not  a  mere  human  being ;  He  has  His 
home  in  heaven  with  the  Ancient  of  Days  (39' 
46').  Enoch  sees  Him  as  pre-existing.  This  pre- 
existence  is  also  implied  in  the  declaration  that 
His  name  was  named  by  the  Creator  of  spirits 
before  the  creation  of  the  sun  and  stars  (48^),  that 
He  was  chosen  and  concealed  before  the  foundation 
of  the  world  (48"  62").  He  will  become  manifest 
in  the  day  of  consummation,  taking  His  seat 
beside  the  Lord  of  the  Spirits,  and  all  creatures 
shall  fall  down  before  Him  (ol^--' 6P  633).  other 
portraitures  are  to  be  found  in  4  Ezr  13°  ('One  in 
the  form  of  a  man '),  and  in  the  Psalms  of  Solomon 
(17  and  18). 

9.  The  JResurrection. — The  doctrine  of  Dn  12-  is 
that '  many  of  them  that  sleep  in  the  dust  of  the 
earth  shall  awake,  some  to  everlasting  life,  and 
-some  to  shame  and  everlasting  contempt.'  In  the 
Eth.  Enoch  (51')  this  is  broadened  into  a  universal 
resurrection,  the  object  of  which  is  defined  as 
judgment  for  the  deeds  done  in  the  body  (Eth. 
Enoch  22).  This  idea  is  also  taught  elsewhere 
(4  Ezr  7»^  5«  14^^,  Syr.  Bar  42'  50-,  Test.  Benj. 
10,  almost  in  the  words  of  Dn  12=,  Life  of  Adam, 
41.  10.  13.  28.  51). 

10.  The  Judgment. — This  undoubtedly  developed 
from  the  prophetic  conception  of  the  Day  of  Jahweh. 
It  is  to  be  distinguished  from  the  judgment  which 
takes  place  during  the  course  of  the  present  age. 
It  is  called  the  Great  Judgment  {/leydX-q  Kplins,  Eth. 
Enoch  10"-  '=  25*  45'-  «  48^  50^  58"  60=  6o^' '"  67'°,  Jub 
5'»  32",  Eth.  En  91',  Test,  of  Levi  3,  Assump. 
Mos  1")  ;  Eternal  Judgment  (Slav.  Enoch  7'  40'=, 
4  Ezr  7'"-'=,  Syr.  Bar  20-'  57=  59'^  83'  85'=^-,  Life  of 
Adam,  39).  Itconsistsin  a  spectacular  revelation  of 
the  wickedness  of  God's  opponent-,  ami  tlicir  con- 
demnation and  punishment  fi.r  tlnir  .•mnity  to 
Him.  The  subjects  of  tlie  jud.unn  nl  -.tyr.  i.oth 
heavenly  and  earthly  powers.  Sat.iu  ami  Anti- 
christ (it  these  two  be  looked  at  as  ditierent),  the 
fallen  angels,  the  world-powers,  and  wicked  men 
are  all  included.  The  judgment  will  be  upon  the 
ground  of  books  in  which  either  the  names  or  the 
deeds  of  men  have  been  inscribed  according  to 
their  good  or  evil.  Sometimes  the  deeds  are 
represented  as  being  weighed  in  the  scales.  Each 
person  judged  must  stand  upon  his  own  merits. 
Intercession  in  his  behalf  by  another  is  of  no  avail. 
The  judge  is  God  Himself  He  appears  as  the 
Ancient  of   Days  (one  having  a  Head  of  Days), 


with  white  hair  and  beard.  He  is  seated  on  a 
glorious  throne,  and  surrounded  with  myriads  of 
angels  (Eth.  En  1^-  ■',  Sib.  Or  3"'-  »=,  Slav.  En 
20',  Test.  Levi  4,  Assumji.  Mos  12»).  In  some 
representations  it  is  the  Messiah  who  acts  as  the 
judge  (uniformly  in  the  Book  of  Similitudes,  Eth. 
Enoch  37-71,  with  the  exception  of  47").  His 
sphere  of  judgment,  however,  includes  the  fallen 
angels  and  demons,  not  men.  For  the  most  part, 
the  Messiah  appears  either  before  or  after  the 
judgment  (4  Ezr  7'^  before  ;  Eth.  Enoch  90,  after). 
Again,  Messiah  is  associated  with  God  and  acts 
as  the  judge  while  God  executes  sentence  (Eth. 
En  62). 

11.  The  Punishment  of  the  Wicked. — The  most 
manifest  eflect  of  the  judgment  is  the  overthrow 
of  God's  enemies  and  the  infliction  of  fit  penalties 
upon  them.  Of  these  enemies,  llin-i-  classes  may 
be  distinguished  :  (a)  Spirits,  inrlu.linu  Satan  and 
fallen  angels  (Test.  Benj.  3,  Sil,.  (ii  :)'■,  I'cst.  Sim. 
6,  Zeb._  9).  (6)  Heathen  worl.l  |...wris.  h.oked  at 
either  in  the  abstract  or  -as  special  individual  kings 
4  Ezr  11.  12",  Sib.  Or  3="'-»,  Ps  -  Sol  17",  Eth. 
En  pi*  52"  53').  _  (c)  Sinners  in  general.  But 
special  mention  is  made  of  Israelites  who  trans- 
gressed the  law  (Syr.  Bar  85"*  54-).  Satan 
(Beliar)is  cast  into  the  fire  (Test.  Jud.  25),  though 
he  rules  in  hell  with  his  angels  (Eth.  En  53"  56'). 
The  fallen  angels  pass  at  the  judgment  into  a 
permanent  condition  of  damnation.  The  giants 
who  s])rang  from  the  union  of  the  angels  with 
the  daughters  of  men  are  also  confined  in  eternal 
torment.  The  heathen  who  have  opposed  God 
and  oppressed  Israel  are  destroyed.  Destruction 
(aTTwKua),  however,  is  not  conceived  as  equivalent 
to  annihilation,  but  as  involving  existence  in  a 
wretched  state. 

12.  The  Reward  of  the  Righteous. — The  works 
of  the  pious  are  preserved  as  in  a  treasury  in 
heaven  (4  Ezr  7"  8"",  Syr.  Bar  14'=  24').  When 
they  ai'e  raised  from  the  dead,  it  is  in  order  that 
they  may  come  into  eternal  life  (Ps-Sol  3'").  This 
they  are  said  to  inherit  (Eth.  En  Ti*  40'-',  Ps-Sol 
99  J411.  3j_  Eternal  life  is  sometimes  looked  at 
as  simply  a  prolonged  bodily  life  (Eth.  En  5» 
jQio.  17  g.iu^  j„|j  03:7-^9)  .  ij^(^  sometimes  it  appears 
as  a  superior  kind  of  life  in  another  world  (4  Ezr 
8=3,  Syr.  Bar  21==,  Test.  Lev.  18. 

13.  The  Renovation  of  the  World.— TXna  is  the 
natural  corollary  of  the  idea  that  the  world  as  at 
present  constituted  has  been  corrupted  by  rebellion 
against  God  and  sin,  and  therefore  cannot  stand. 
Deutero-Isaiah  (65"  66==)  foreshadows  the  advent  of 
'anew  heaven  and  a  new  earth. '  The  same  world- 
reconstruction  is  held  in  prospect  by  the  apoca- 
lyptists.  The  Ethiopic  Enoch  (91'"'-)  announces 
that  '  the  first  heaven  will  vanish  and  pass  away, 
and  a  new  heaven  will  appear.'  The  present  order 
of  the  material  heavens  will  last  only  until  the  new 
eternal  creation  is  brought  into  existence  (Eth.  En 
72').  Time  distinctions  will  cease  when  the  new 
creation  is  accomplished  (Jub  50*). 

14.  Predestination.— In  the  sense  of  the  deter- 
mination of  the  destiny  of  individuals  beforehand, 
as  elect  or  non-elect,  the  idea  of  predestination 
does  not  clearly  appear  in  the  apocalyptic  litera- 
ture. In  the  sense,  however,  that  all  the  experi- 
ences of  God's  people  are  known  and  have  always 
been  known  by  Him,  and  do  not  come  to  pass 
without  His  consent,  the  doctrine  is  constant  as  the 
undertone  of  thought.  All  the  events  unfolded  in 
the  eschatological  pictures  are  certain  to  come  to 
pass  because  "God  wills  that  they  should.  Cer- 
tainty of  blessedness  for  the  righteous  is  not  de- 
pendent upon  their  own  piety,  but  upon  God's 
having  foreordained  it  (Assump.  Mos  12«).  The 
age  is  as  a  whole  fixed  and  measured  (Book  of 
Jubilees).     When  its  course  has  run,  it  comes  to 


94      APOCALYPTIC  LITERATUEE 


APOCRYPHA 


an  end  (4  Ezr  4'"  7"^).  A  certain  number  of 
righteous  must  be  gathered  in.  Only  when  this 
takes  place  can  the  consummation  occur.  It  was 
this  doctrine  that  made  the  whole  apocalyptic 
theory  a  practical  effective  scheme,  because  it 
enabled  it  to  impart  the  assurance  of  the  realiza- 
tion of  that  good  in  the  future  which  was  missed 
in  the  present. 

vi.  Contact  with  the  Kew  Test.4mext.— 
Tlie  significance  of  apocalyntic  literature  for  the 
NT  is  very  large.  In  general,  apocalyptic  furnishes 
the  atmosjihere  of  the  NT.  Its  form,  its  language, 
and  its  material  are  extensively  used.*  In  par- 
ticular, this  is  true  of  the  following  main  lines  : — 

1.  The  apocalyptic  fm-m  is  used  as  such  in  the 
literary  composition  of  the  NT.  In  the  Apocalypse 
of  John  this  becomes  the  form  of  the  whole  book. 
In  other  places  it  is  introduced  as  a  part  of  ]iroduc- 
tions  of  a  different  literary  tyi)e  (cf.  Mt  24  and 
l)arallels).  Whether  these  passages  were  origin- 
ally separate  works  and  the  Gospel  writers  in- 
corporated them,  or  whether  they  make  up  integral 
parts  of  the  plans  of  the  Gospels,  is  a  question  for 
historical  criticism  to  deal  with.  In  their  inter- 
pretation no  satisfactory  results  will  he  reached  if 
their  formal  affinity  to  the  apocalypses  be  ignored. 
In  2  Th  22-'-  the  case  is  clear.  'The  A])ostle  eW- 
dently  weaves  an  apocalyptic  passage  of  his  own 
construction  into  his  Epistle.  A  firm  base  of 
opeiations  is  thus  furnished  for  the  interpretation 
of  the  apocalyptic  portions  of  the  NT.  These  must 
be  read  as  tlie  ai>ocalypses  in  general  are  read. 

2.  Some  outstanding  phrases  in  the  NT  termi- 
nologj-  deserve  special  mention.  The  expression 
'  Son  of  JIan '  occurs  first  in  Daniel  (I")-  From 
here,  if  the  now  predominant  pre-Christian  dating 
of  the  Book  of  Similitudes  (Etli.  En  37-71)  be 
correct,  it  is  adopted  into  tliat  work,  and  this 
usage  serves  as  the  bridge  of  connexion  between 
Daniel  and  Jesus,  who  treats  this  term  constantly 
as  His  own  title.  Closely  associated  with  this 
title  is  the  phrase  'Head  of  Days'  (Eth.  En  47^ 
48-"*),  as  applied  to  God.  Other  phrases  of  this 
class  are  the  'Day  of  Judgment,'  the  'Great  Day 
of  Judgment '  (Eth.  En  19'  22^""). 

3.  Quotations  fi-om  apocalyptic  books  are  not 
very  common  in  the  NT.  The  most  familiar  is 
that  in  Jude  '^'-  from  Eth.  En  1".  Jiide^  is  also  a 
quotation  from  the  Assumption  of  Moses  (Charles, 
fcstatnent  of  Moses).  The  book  is  not  named  here, 
and  the  quotation  is  identified  by  ancient  writers 
to  whom  this  apocalypse  was  familiar.  But  coin- 
cidences of  phraseology,  suggesting  quotations 
either  of  one  from  the  other  or  of  both  from  a  com- 
mon source,  are  quite  frequent  (cf.  Charles,  Book 
of  Enoch,  pp.  42-49 ;  Apocalypse  of  Baruch,  pp. 
Ixxvi-lxxix ;  Book  of  the  Secrets  of  Enoch,  pp. 
xxii,  xxiii ;  Assumption  of  Moses,  pp.  113;  ahso 
Sinker,  Tcsfniucnt",  XH  Patriarcharum,  pp.  209- 
210).  Sciiiii- lit  llir-.-  |i;ii,illi-li^ins  must  be  ascribed 
to  the  iiatui-  m;  tl,.'  ihc-ujlit  expre.ssed,  which 
perhap-  woul.l  im.i  .nlmn,  ,,i  at  least  would  not 
easily  lend  it-i  li  lu  wry  ditVerent  phraseology  ; 
but  in  a  large  number  the  coincidence  can  occur 
only  where  literary  affiliation  of  some  kind  exists. 

4.  The  most  important  point  of  contact,  however, 
is  that  in  subject-matter.  And  here  it  is  no  mere 
point  of  contact  that  we  have  to  note,  but  a  large 
and  free  adoption  of  the  forms  worked  out  by  the 
apocalyptists.  To  undertake  a  list  would  be  to 
repeat  the  summary  given  above  of  the  apoi^alyptic 
tlieology.  The  simjilest  way  to  de.scribe  the  rela- 
tion is  to  say  that  Je.sus  and  the  writers  of  the  NT 
found  the  forms  of  thought  made  use  of  in  apo- 

"  This  does  not  mean,  however,  that  there  are  not  in  the 
fundamental  matters  sharp  contrasts  between  the  KT  and  the 
apocalypses.  The  New  Testament  is  the  New  Testament.  Its 
originality  is  beyond  question. 


calyptic  literature  convenient  vehicles,  and  have 
cast  the  gospel  of  God's  redemptive  love  into  these 
as  into  moulds.  The  iMessianisui  of  the  apo- 
calyptists has  thus  become  unfolded  into  the 
Christology  of  the  NT.  The  theocratic  judgment 
has  passed  into  the  universal  ethical  discrimination 
between  individuals  according  to  the  deeds  done  in 
the  body.  Other  doctrines,  such  as  angelology  and 
deraonology,  have  likewise  been  used  as  the  vehicles 
of  great  eternal  verities. 

3.  Solutions  of  some  questions  which  St.  Paul 
faced  are  proposed  in  some  of  the  apocalypses 
(notably  4  Ezr  and  Syr.  Bar).  These  are  often  as 
different  as  they  can  possibly  be.  Whether  they 
are  meant  to  be  a  secret  form  of  attack  on  Chris- 
tianity or  simply  independent  ways  of  aiiproacliing 
the  same  subjects,  they  are  of  the  utmost  import- 
ance. In  the  first  case,  they  throw  light  on  the 
growth  of  Christian  belief  and  the  manner  of 
tlie  polemic  waged  against  it.  In  the  latter,  they 
illustrate  the  nature  of  the  setting  in  which  the 
gospel  found  itself  as  soon  as  preached. 

LiTEBATi-KE.— Besides  the  special  works  (referred  to  above)  on 
the  individual  npocah-psc?.  the  folInwin_-  rnmprehensive  works 
may  he  i-nn^.lltfd  •-i;fr„r,r  l)„<  .h,i,  ,h,u„1,,-t  ,t.  HcUf,  1838; 
HilL'iMif' M,  .'  '  I  !  J«da!OT-ijin,  1S69; 
DriiiLii  1,  '  Jiid.  Apok.'in 
ZA'l'»  ' -'/in,  1S91 ;  Thom- 
son. l:.~.  ■ -        ;                                                  :l   .  Apnstks,  1891 ; 

dela\c,  i.^,-. -Ij   ....  ,^..... ., _..  .  ',  !>^--  Ayifichnst 

[Eng.tr.  liy  Ke.alie,  Isn6],  anrl  tin-  ^  '        ni^ariouj 

Johannis,  1896,  Die  Ret.  d.  Jiideii lu  i inkal 

1903;  Charles,  Etchatology,  Heb,,-  -JiVin, 

1899;  Schiirer,  C^f',  ISnS,  iii. ;  M    -  Apoca- 

lliptks.  lS9a:  \Ve!lhii!=o!.,  S(-,-?.'.    ..  'i;  Volz, 

Jiid.  Eschalot'"}" .  i-:;  1;,  ).i  ' -i'  i.  '  -h-Apo- 

kati/ptifchen  Ih^  >    .:         -  the  3rd 

ed.  of  his  *>//,.'  ■        i  Kennedy, 

The  Eschatolofiu  ,  '  /  .'  i  ■■  i  ;  M  n  i.  j.  i,  //•  I.-  i,.,i.,luriiiof 
Jems,  1904  ;  artitk,  I..,  Liiaiics  in  ll.i-lii.„.-,  iJlj  ai.a  iji  E'licyc. 
Biblica  ;  Porter,  Mcssaijei  vj  the  Apucalf/jiHeal  n'riters,  1905. 

A.  C.  Zenos. 

APOCRYPHA.— This  term  is  here  used  for  those 
Jewish  writings  included  in  the  Gr.,  Lat.,  and  Eng. 
Bibles  to  which  the  title  is  commonly  applied,  i.e. 
the  Biblical  Apocrypha.  For  the  literary  history 
and  characteristics  of  the  Apocrypha  see  Hastings' 
DB,  vol.  i.  s.v.  'Apocrypha.'  The  relation  of  the 
Apocrypha  to  Christ  and  Christianity,  which  is 
the  subject  of  this  article,  comes  especially  under 
four  heads — the  Messianic  idea,  the  doctrine  of 
Wisdom,  the  anticipation  of  Christian  doctrines 
other  than  that  of  the  Person  or  mission  of  Christ, 
the  use  of  the  Apocrypha  in  the  Christian  Church. 

i.  The  Messianic  Idea.— While  this  idea  is 
luxuriantly  developed  in  Apocalyptic  literature,  it 
is  singularly  neglected  in  most  of  the  Apocrypha. 
The  stream  of  prophecy  which  ran  clear  and  strong 
in  the  OT  became  turbid  and  obscure  in  those 
degenerate  successors  of  the  prophets,  the  Apoca- 
lyptic visionaries.  But  it  was  in  the  line  of  the 
prophetic  schools  of  teaching  that  the  Jlessianic 
idea  was  cherished.  Accordingly  the  treatment  of 
the  later  .-.taue  of  that  teaching  as  erratic  and  un- 
autliMriiati\  e.  not  lit  for  inclusion  in  the  Canon, 
invohril  the  reMilt  that  the  remaining  more  sober 
literature,  wliieli  was  reioj;nized  as  nearer  to  the 
standard  of  Scripture,  antl  in  Egyjjt  included  in  the 
later  canon  (at  all  events  as  in  one  collection  of 
sacred  books),  was  for  the  most  part  associated 
with  those  schools  in  which  the  Messianic  hope 
was  not  cultivated.  Therefore  it  is  not  just  to 
say  that  this  hope  had  faded  away  or  suffered 
temporary  obscurity  during  the  period  when  the 
Apocrypha  was  wntten,  the  truth  being  that  it 
was  then  more  vigorous  than  ever  in  certain  circles. 
But  these  circles  were  not  those  of  our  Old  Testa- 
ment Apocrypha.  Thus  the  question  is  literarj- 
rather  than  historical.  It  concerns  the  editing  of 
certain  books,  not  the  actual  life  and  thought  of 
Israel. 

This  will  be  evident  if  we  compare  the  Book  of 


APOCRYPHA 


APOCRYPHA 


Drinie/  witli  1  Mr(ccabccs.  These  two  books  deal 
with  the  same  period.  Yet  the  former,  althoufjh 
it  does  not  know  a  iierscm.:!  Mr-.^i.Ui.  is  lln-  very 
fount  and  spring  of  tin'  .M''~-i:Miir  cciii.  ,|ii mn  dI 
the  golden  age  in  Kul>M'(|iirii(  A|h>c,i1\  |.-i-,  (in 
the  other  hand,  1  Macc;il"  ■  ~  i  ihn.  -  i  lir  M.~  l.llli^■ 
hope,  at  all  events  in  its  u   u.i  I! ;,   :m.mj.|..1  [.illil. 

Only  two  passagTS  in  this  1 ;    ' I  '•    i        jj-st- 

ing:  the  Messianic  idea,  aiifl  till  ;   ■' i. i 1  i^ 

Bometimes  put  upon  them.     Tli.^  Iii^i    i     I     l  I'       I  f'H- 

being  merciful  inherited  the  thionc  ul  .•  \  I  ■  i  i  i  i  hkI 
ever.'    We  have  here  that  very  element.-in  i  ':      i,mi. 

idea,  if  we  may  so  call  it,  tiie  permainn  i  ■  m 

But  it  ig  evident  that  David  as  the  fouii'ii  r  ..r  i  i.  i.,;,  ,i  im.  ,  n- i 
the  Messiah,  is  here  referred  to,  and  thai  lii>-  |i.  i  umti,  n.  .  .-l  Hit- 
throne  is  for  the  succession  of  his  descendants,  )iot  foi-  any  one 
jwrson.  Not  only  is  this  the  most  reasonable  mteqiretation  of 
the  passage,  but  it  rests  on  OT  promises  to  that  effect,  where 
the  family  ( " 
(r..7.  2S7V!.16,( 
earlier  Scriiitur 

irrcat  Son,  and  i 


Ps  132 


[i.e.  the  sanctuary]  dowi 
because  the  Gentiles  had 
altar,  and  laid  up  the  st< 
convenient  place,  until 


prophet'  of  whom  we 


■  siiccitically 
it   to   nny 


Nevertheless,  though  we  cannot  pt 
Messianic  prophecy  in  1  Mac,  some  of 
attributed  to  this  period  indicate  a  prevaloiiue  of 
ideas  that  belong  to  the  same  circle  of  thought. 
Pa.ssionate  patriotism  fired  by  martyrdom  and 
crowned  with  temporary  succe.ss  naturally  painted 
great  hopes  for  the  nation.  The  reason  why  these 
were  not  connected  with  a  coming  Messiah  inay  be 
twofold.  (1)  For  a  time  it  seemed  likely  that  the 
Maccabees  themselves  were  realizing  those  hopes, 
that  this  remarkable  family  of  ])atriots  was  really 
restoring  the  glory  of  Israel.  (2)  Since  these  men 
were  of  the  priestly  line,  the  splendour  of  their 
achievements  eclipsed  for  the  time  being  the 
national  dreams  of  the  house  of  David. 

The  reaction  of  the  later  Hasuhin,  uni  of  wliom 
the  Pharisaic  party  emerged,  ,t,i;:iiiisI  (Ip'  worldly 
methods  of  the  Hasmoniean  family  m\i\  I  hiir  identi- 
fication of  the  mission  of  Israel  ^vitll  military 
prowess,  released  the  more  spiritual  reliijions  hopes, 
and  so  prepared  for  a  revival  of  JMessianic  ideas. 
This  new  movement,  which  saw  the  true  good  of 
the  nation  to  lie  in  her  religion  and  looked  for  lier 
help  from  God,  did  not  altogether  coincide  with 
the  hope  of  a  jiersonal  Christ,  for  God  Himself  was 
the  Supreme  King  whose  coming  was  to  be  ex- 
pected by  His  people. 

The  book  of  Judith  is  a  romance  issuing  from 
the  Pharisaic  reactionary  party ;  but  it  is  devoid 
of  all  specific  Messianic  ideas.  In  this  case  the 
human  saviour  of  Israel  is  a  woman. 

Of  the  three  other  popular  tales,  two.  The  His- 
tori)  of  Susanna  and  Bel  and  the  Dragon,  contain 
nothing  bearing  on  the  Messianic  idea ;  hut  the 
latter  part  of  Tobit  may  be  accounted  Messianic  in 
the  general  sense  as  giving  a  picture  of  the  Golden 
Age  of  the  future.  Jerusalem  is  to  be  scourged  for 
her  children's  works,  but  she  is  to  give  i)raise  to 
the  everlasting  King  that  'afterwards  his  taber- 
nacle may  be  Ijuilded '  in  her  '  again  with  joy.' 
Many  nations  are  to  come  from  far  to  the  name 
of  the  Lord  God  with  gifts  in  their  hands.  All 
generations  sli.ill  in.ii-e  lur  with  great  joy.  The 
city  is  t(i  lie  liuili  and  |ia\  e,l  with  jirecious  stones. 
'And  all  her  slie.is  shall  s,iy  Hallelujah;  and 
they  shall  praise  him,  saving,  Blessed  be  God, 
which  bath  exalted  it  for  ever'  (To  13''-'»).  In  all 
this  there  is  no  mention  of  the  son  of  David  or  any 
human  king  and  deliierer.     (In  the  Hebrew  varia- 


tion of  the  text  of  this  chapter  as  rendered  by 
Neubauer,  we  read  of  '  the  coming  of  the  Re- 
deemer ,ind  the  building  of  Ariel,'  i.e.  Jerusalem  ; 
but  evidently  this  Hedeemer  is  Jahweh).  We 
must  go  outAide  our  Ajiocrypha  to  ths  Psalms  of 
Suloiitun  fur  the  Pharisaic  revival  of  the  Messiali 
uf  the  line  of  David. 

Apocalyptic  literature  lends  itself  more  readily 
to  Messianic  ideas,  and  tlie.se  find  full  expression 
in  the  Book  of  Enoch,  where — in  the  'Similitudes' 

I  he  descriptions  of  the  Messiah  who  appears  in 
elimds  as  the  Sou  of  IMan  are  assigned  by  Dr. 
Charles  to  tlie  pre-Christian  Jewish  composition. 

~  Esdras,  also  a  Jewish  Ajwcalyptic  work,  calls 
for  closer  examination,  since  it  is  contained  in  our 
Apocrypha,  although  its  late  date  diminishes  its 
value  in  the  history  of  the  development  of  thought. 
The  Christian  additions  (chapters(a)  1.  2;  (6)  15.  16) 
do  not  call  for  attention  here ;  they  could  only  come 
into  the  study  of  the  development  of  Christian 
thought  if  they  were  in  anj'  way  contributions  to 
tliat  subject ;  lull  llie  warnings  of  the  supplanting 
(if  Isr.'iel  by  the  Gentiles  m  (,,),  and  the  judgment 
of  the  nations  in  (//),  eanmit,  Ije  regarded  in  that 
liglit.  The  original  work  (chapters  3-14)  aHbrds 
significant  evidence  of  the  melancholy  condition 
into  which  Jewish  JMessianic  hopes  had  sunk 
during  the  gloomy  interval  between  the  destruc- 
tion of  Jerusalem  and  the  rise  of  Bar-Cochba,  the 
reign  of  Dtmiitian  (A.D.  81-96)  being  its  generally 
aceoiited  date  (see  Hasting.s'  DB,  vol.  i.  p.  765). 
Unlike  the  other  Ajwcryphal  writings,  since  it 
does  not  illustrate  the  transition  from  the  OT  to 
the  NT,  it  is  serviceable  only  in  the  study  of  post- 
Christian  Judaism.  Its  Christian  interpolations 
do  not  materially  hinder  us  from  discovering  the 
original  text.  The  Messianic  passages  are  in 
chapters  7.  12.  and  13.  The  insertion  of  the  name 
'Jesus'  in  7'*  (not  found  in  the  Oriental  versions) 
by  a  Christian  hand  is  not  sufficient  rea-son  for  dis- 
crediting the  Jewish  character  of  the  composition. 
The  picture  of  the  Messiah  is  quite  un-Cliristian. 
It  is  startling  to  read  that  he  is  to  die  (7'-'°)  ;  but 
(1)  this  is  after  reigning  400  years,  and  (2)  without 
a  subsequent  resurrection.  The  first  point  indi- 
cates the  visionary  ideas  of  the  Apocalyptic  writer, 
not  the  known  fact  of  our  Lord's  brief  life  on  earth, 
and  the  second  is  in  conflict  with  the  great  pro- 


years  and  then  died,  and  so  ended  his  Messiah- 
ship,  could  not  be  Jesus  Christ.  Accordingly  the 
Syriao  reads  '30'  instea,d  of  '400,'  evidently  a 
Christian  emendation.  Undoubtedly  this  is  a 
Jewish  conception,  and  its  mournful  character, 
so  unlike  the  triumphant  tone  of  Enoch,  is  in 
keeping  with  the  gloomy  character  of  the  book, 
and  a  reflection  of  the  deep  melancholy  that  took 
possession  of  the  minds  of  earnest,  patriotic  Jews 
after  the  fearful  scenes  of  the  siege  of  Jenisalein 
and  the  overwhelming  of  their  hopes  in  a  deluge 
of  blood.  The  reference  to  the  death  of  the 
Messiah  is  not  found  in  the  Arabic  or  the  Ar- 
menian versions  ;  but  it  is  easy  to  see  how  it  came 
to  be  omitted,  while  there  is  no  likelihood  that  it 
would  be  inserted  later,  either  by  a  Jew,  to  whom 
the  idea  would  be  unw;elcome,  or  by  a  Christian, 
since  the  resurrection  is  not  also  mentioned.  A 
noteworthy  fact  is  that  the  Messiah  is  addressed 
by  God  as  '  My  son.'  The  Ethiojiic  of  7^,  instead 
of  'My  son  Jesus'  reads  'My  Messiah,'  and  the 
Armenian,  '  the  anointed  of  (jod.'    But  the  refer- 


ence to  .sonship  occurs  elsewhere  frequently,  e.g. 
'  My  son  Christ,'  or  'My  anointed  son'  (7'-";  see 
also  1333.  S7. 52  149^  in  most  versions,  but  not  in 
Arm.  :  see  Dr.  Sanday,  art.  '  Son  of  God '  in 
Hastings'  DB.  vol.  iv.  p.  571).  Since,  as  Dr. 
Sanday  remarks  in  the  article  just  referred  to, 


96 


APOCRYPHA 


APOCRYPHA 


the  strongly  Messianic  passage  in  PsSol  17'-^'^'  has 
not  the  title  '  Son,'  bnt  clearly  borrows  from  Ps  2 
in  V.-',  it  is  a  likely  inference  that  2  Esdras  is  here 
based  on  that  Psalm.  Compare  the  words  of  the 
high  priest  in  Mt  26^'. 

In  chs.  12  and  13  the  Avriter  names  Daniel,  and 
manifestly  bases  his  elaboration  of  the  Messianic 
picture  on  the  Book  of  Daniel.  The  Messiah 
appears  as  a  lion  rising  up  out  of  a  wood  and 
roaring.  A  certain  pre-existence  is  implied  in  the 
assertion  that  the  Most  High  had  kept  him  (12^-) ; 
the  Latin  has  only  '  for  the  end,'  but  the  Syriae 
reads  '  for  the  end  of  days,  who  shall  spring  up  out 
of  the  seed  of  DaWd.'   He  will  come  to  upbraid  and 


are  repeated  in  ch.  13,  but  in  a  different  form.  A 
man  comes  from  the  midst  of  the  sea.  This  is 
unlike  Daniel  (7^-  "),  where  the  four  beasts  come  up 
from  the  .sea,  but  the  '  one  like  unto  a  son  of  man  ' 
from  the  clouds.  The  Most  High  has  kept  him  for 
a  great  season  (v.-*),  another  reference  to  pre-e.x- 
istence.  Similarly  later  on  we  read,  '  Like  as  one 
can  neither  seek  out  nor  know  what  is  in  the 
depths  of  the  sea,  even  so  can  no  man  upon  earth 
see  my  Son,  or  those  that  be  with  him,  but  in  the 
time  of  his  day  '  (v.='-).  He  exists,  but  hidden  till 
the  time  when  God  will  reveal  him.  When  be 
comes  and  is  revealed,  '  it  will  be  as  a  man  ascend- 
inw.'  '  When  all  the  nations  hear  his  voice  '  they 
w'ill  draw  together  to  tight  against  him.  But  he 
>vill  stand  on  the  top  of  Mount  Zion,  and  there  he 
will  taunt  the  nations  to  their  face  and  destroy  them 
without  any  effort  on  his  part,  tlie  instrument 
of  destruction  being  the  Law,  which  is  compared 
to  fire.  Then  in  addition  to  the  saved  remnant 
of  the  Jews  already  refeiTed  to,  the  lost  ten  tribes 
will  be  brought  back  from  their  exile  beyond  the 
Euphrates,  whither  they  had  gone  by  a  miracu- 
lous passage  through  the  river,  and  whence  they 
will  return  by  a  similar  miraculous  staying  of 
•  the  springs  of  the  river '  again.  Thus  we  have 
the  idea  of  a  restoration  of  all  Israel  under  the 
Messiah,  but  ^nth  no  further  extension  of  the 
happy  future  so  as  to  include  other  nations,  as  in 
the  Christian  Apocalyptic  conceptions ;  on  the 
contrary,  those  nations  will  be  humiliated  and 
chagrined  at  the  spectacle  of  the  glorification  of 
the  former  \'ictims  of  their  oppression.  On  the 
whole  we  must  conclude  with  Paul  Volz  (Judischc 
Eschatulogic,  p.  202)  that  2  Ezra  adopts  the 
traditional  hope  of  the  ilessiah,  but  does  not  see 
in  it  the  chief  ground  of  assurance  for  the  future. 
He  is  hailed  as  God's  son,  but  he  appears  to  have 
only  a  temporary  existence.  He  does  not  bring 
deliverance  from  sin  ;  nor  is  he  to  come  for  judg- 
ment.    His  death  is  the  end  of  his  mission. 

ii.  The  Doctrixe  of  Wisdom.  —  Unlike  the 
Prophetic  and  Apocalyptic  literature  which  con- 
fessedly anticipated  a  great  future,  and  so  fur- 
nished a  hope  which  Christianity  subsequently 
claimed  to  fulfil,  the  Hebrew  Wisdom  writing's 
profess  to  give  absolute  truth,  and  betray  no 
consciousness  of  further  developments.  Neverthe- 
less the  Church  was  quick  to  seize  on  them  as 
teaching  the  essential  Divinity  of  Christ.  The 
historical  method  of  more  recent  times  sees  in  them 
the  germs  of  ideas  on  this  subject  which  were 
subsequently  developed  by  Christian  theologians 

"    '       ■ '    '       '   ■  '  ■  le  of 

That 
ssion 


.1     F. 


Wi-a 


of  the  Alexan'l 
Wisdom  in 
doctrine  in 
from  the  n- 
1.  Sirach. 
by  Sirach 

vance  on  Proverbs.  The  idea  of  Wisdom  itself 
essentially  the  same,  and  the  gnomic  form  of  wr 
ing  continues  an  identity  of  method. 


nted 
much,  if  anj',  ad- 


(n)  Litci-anj  Form. — There  is  no  attempt  at  meta- 
physical analysis  or  philosophical  argumentation. 
This  .Jewish  philosophy  is  not  elucidated  by  reason- 
ing, or  based  on  logical  grounds.  It  is  regarded 
as  intuitive  in  origin  and  the  treatment  of  it  is 
didactic.  Thus  we  have  nothing  like  a  philo- 
sophical or  ethical  treatise.  Much  of  the  Avriting 
is  directly  liortatory,  and  wliere  the  third  person 
is  used  we  liave  descriptions  and  reflections, 
accounts  of  the  nature  and  function  of  wisdom, 
and  illustrations  of  its  operations  in  life  and 
historj'. 

(6)  Unity  of  WMom.  —  \n  Sirach,  as  in  Pr., 
Wisdom  is  described  from  two  points  of  view : 
a.s  found  in  God  and  His  administration  of  the 
world,  and  as  attainable  by  man  in  his  own  char- 
acter and  life.  But  it  is  not  that  God's  wisdom  is 
merely  the  model  or  the  source  of  our  wisdom. 
Wisdom  throughout,  though  seen  in  such  ditt'erent 
relations,  is  taken  as  essentially  one  entity.  It  is 
wisdom,  absolute  wisdom,  that  God  uses  in  the 
administration  of  the  universe,  and  that  man  also 
is  exhorted  to  pursue.  This  realism  in  dealing 
with  an  abstract  notion  is  the  first  step  towards 
personification. 

(c)  Personification. — As  in  Proverbs,  wisdom  is 
here  personified.  Wisdom  is  supposed  to  act,  e.g. 
'  How  exceeding  harsh  is  she  to  the  unlearned ' 
(6=°).  In  a  fine  passage  she  celebrates  her  own 
praises,  glorying  in  the  midst  of  her  people, 
saying — 


'  I  came  forth  from  the  mouth  of  the  Most  High, 
And  covered  the  earth  as  a  mist. 
I  dwelt  in  high  places, 

'     -•  throne  is  in  the  pillar  of  the  cloud'  (243-  *) ; 


And  I 


and,  further,  after  a  rich  description  of  the  scenes 
of  nature  that  she  influences— 
'  In  three  things  I  was  beautified, 
And  stood  up  beautiful  before  the  Lord  and  men,'  etc.  (251). 
But  there  is  nothinj;  in  this  personification  beyond 
a  free  use  of  the  Oriental  imagination.  No  doubt 
to  this  vivid  imagination  such  writing  presents 
wisdom  as  in  some  way  a  concrete  entity,  and 
more,  as  a  gracious,  queenly  presence.  But  all 
alon^  there  are  expressions  which  admit  the 
imaginary  character  of  the  whole  picture.  For 
instance,  the  opening  passage,  describing  how 
Wisdom  stood  up  in  the  congregation  of  the  Most 
High  to  celebrate  her  own  praises,  would  lose  all 
its  force  of  appeal  if  it  were  taken  in  prosaic 
literalness.  It  is  just  because  this  is  no  actual 
person  posing  for  admiration,  but  a  truth  set  forth 
before  us,  that  the  whole  picture  appears  to  be 
sublime,  and  serves  its  purpose  in  leading  to  a  high 
appreciation  of  wisdom.  Then  wisdom  is  identi- 
fied ^vith  understanding :  '  AVhoso  is  wise,  cleave 
thou  unto  him  '  (6**)  .  .  .  '  If  thou  seest  a  man  of 
understanding,  get  thee  betimes  unto  him '  (v.*'). 
Thus  cultivation  of  friendship  with  a  man  of 
wisdom  or  understanding  is  part  of  the  pursuit  of 
wisdom  itself.  Even  Philo's  much  more  explicit 
personification  of  the  Logos  does  not  mean  that  he 
held  the  Logos  to  be  an  actual  person  in  our  sense 
of  the  term.  Here  all  we  can  say  of  the  subject 
is  that  the  allegorizing  is  very  vivid,  so  vivid  as 
to  be  on  the  verge  of  the  mythopicic,  but  still  in 
tlie  original  intention  of  the  writer  not  meant  to 
be  more  than  the  glorification  of  a  great  quality 
found  primarily  in  God,  impressed  on  nature,  and 
commended  to  mankind  as  a  highly  desirable 
attainment. 


The  difficulty  of  the  question 
mind  would  not  clearly  fare  tt 
imagination  would  so  \iviHli- 
that  the  idea  would  st<  im  i 
to  an  apparently  conrr.  ■ 

would  be  regarded  f-i 


1  the  fact  that  the  Oriental 

=tiori  r>f  jncrsonality.    The 

,■   r},,.   •,ll.-.,.,^ri,-ii  "picture 

'     ■  iindensing 

..so  that 


the  . 

abstract 


APOCRYPHA 


APOCRYPHA 


in  ita  original  character  purely  as  a  mode  of  thought  or  action. 
To  apply  to  the  product  of  such  a  process  the  logic  of  the  West, 
or  to  attempt  to  bring  it  into  harmony,  say,  with  Locke's  theory 
of  ideas,  is  unreasonable.  The  atmosphere  does  not  allow  of  so 
hard  a  definition  of  personality  as  that  which  may  be  either 
affirmed  or  denied. 

{d)  Source.  —  Wisdom  originates  in  God.  She 
'came  forth  from  tlie  mouth  of  the  Most  High' 
(24').  '  Wisdom  was  created  together  with  the  faith- 
ful in  the  womb'  (1'^).  She  exclaims,  '  He  created 
me  from  the  beginning,  before  the  world'  (24"). 
As  with  Pr  8--,  tlie  Arian  controversy  has  given 
a  factitious  imiiortance  to  this  sentence.  Wisdom 
is  identified  with  Clirist ;  and  thus  the  Arian 
doctrine  that  Christ  is  a  creature,  that  He  was 
created,  not  begotten  by  God  and  not  eternal, 
appears  to  have  clear  support.  It  is  probable 
that  Sirach  is  dependent  on  Proverbs,  and  the 
rendering  of  LXX  (&Ti(7e)  is  doubtful.*  But  the 
much  debated  point  is  of  little  real  Importance  ; 
indeed,  it  is  of  no  value  till  we  grant  that  Wisdom 
in  Proverbs  and  Sirach  is  (1)  personal,  and  (2) 
identical  with  Clirist.  The  denial  of  (I)  in  the 
previous  paragraph  carries  with  it  the  exclusion  of 
(2).  Nevertheless,  apart  from  the  Arian  concep- 
tion, we  still  have  the  idea  of  the  creation  of 
to  account  for.     This,  however,  is  but  a 


consequence  of  the  allegorical  personilication  in 
conjunction  with  the  thought  that  wisdom  pro- 
ceeds from  God.  That  has  a  twofold  signification, 
corresponding  to  the  two  aspects  of  wisdom.  First, 
God  is  the  source  of  His  own  wisdom.  He  has 
not  to  learn  ;  all  His  plans  and  purposes  spring 
from  His  own  mind.  Secondly,  mankind  learns 
\visdom  from  God  ;  it  is  His  gift  to  His  children. 
Wisdom    is  with    all    flesh    according    to    God's 

'gift'iV). 

(c)  Characteristics.  —  There  is  an  intellectual 
element  in  wisdom,  which  is  the  highest  exercise 
of  the  mind.  The  opposite  of  wisdom  is  folly,  a 
stupid  and  brutish  thing.  The  Divine  side  of  wis- 
dom most  clearly  exhibits  this  character.  Wisdom 
created  by  God  is  with  God,  and  therefore  is  seen 
in  His  presence  and  works.  Nevertheless,  Sirach 
makes  very  little  reference  to  the  manifestation 
of  wisdom  in  Nature  or  Providence.  The  whole 
stress  is  on  this  Divine  gift  as  an  object  of 
aspiration  for  mankind.  Wisdom  is  seen  as  the 
best  of  all  human  possessions.  The  sublimity  of 
wisdom  is  set  forth  in  order  to  fire  the  enthusiasm 
of  men  to  have  their  lives  enriched  with  the 
Divine  grace.  This  is  just  the  same  as  in  Pro- 
verbs. So  also  are  two  further  characteristics  of 
Hebrew  wisdom.  First,  it  is  moral.  It  is  con- 
cerned with  the  practical  reason,  not  the  specula- 
tive. Its  realm  is  ethics,  not  metaphysics.  It  is 
not  a  philosophy  for  solving  the  riddle  of  the 
universe ;  it  is  a  guide  to  conduct.  The  ethics  is 
not  discussed  theoretically  ;  there  is  no  theory  of 
ethics.  The  aim  of  the  book  is  practical,  and  the 
treatment  of  wisdom  is  didactic  and  hortatory. 
Siracli  even  discourages  speculation,  in  directing 
the  attention  solely  to  conduct — 

'  Seek  not  things  that  are  too  hard  for  thee. 
And  search  not  out  things  that  are  above  thy  strength. 
The  things  that  have  been,  commanded  thee,  think  there- 
upon; 
For  thou  hast  no  need  of  the  things  that  are  secret '  (321-  K). 


1,  it  is  religious.  Wisdom  here,  as  in  Pro- 
verbs, is  identified  with  the  fear  of  the  Lord.  The 
way  to  attain  wisdom  is  to  keep  the  Law — 

'  If  thou  desire  wisdom,  keep  the  commandments. 


And  the  Lord  shall  i 


;  freely '  (!«). 


*  The  Hebrew  of  Proverbs  (njij)  is  rendered  in  R  V  as  well  as 
AV  "possessed.'  Still  RVm  has  '  formed,'  in  agreement  with 
Bertheau,  Zockler,  Hitzig;,  and  Ewald,  and  Delitzsch  has  the 
similar  word  '  produced ' ;,  moreover,  Syr.  and  Targ.  agree  with 
the  LXX.  In  Pr  ^^  m^  is)  rendered  '  get,'  and  certainly  there  it 
can  only  have  that  meani,ng. 
VOL.  I. — 7 


Like  Proverbs,  Sirach  contains  a  quantity  of 
shrewd  worldly  wisdom,  and  it  is  eminently 
prudential  in  aim ;  but  it  is  the  better  self  that 
is  considered,  and  the  higher  interests,  ratlier 
than  wealth  and  pleasure,  that  are  studied.  In 
this  way  the  whole  book  is  concerned  with  the 
exposition  of  the  nature  and  merits  of  wisdom. 

2.  Baruch. — The  eloquent  celebration  of  the 
praises  of  wisdom  in  this  book,  which  probably 
dates  from  the  1st  cent.  A.D.  (see  DB,  art. 
'  Baruch  '),  is  on  similar  lines  to  Sirach.  Wisdom 
is  like  choice  treasure,  to  be  sought  out  from  far. 
But  since  she  is  above  the  clouds  or  beyond  the 
sea,  no  man  can  be  expected  to  reach  so  far. 
There  is  only  One  who  can  do  this.  '  He  that 
knoweth  all  things  knoweth  her' (S^'').  Here  the 
idea  is  dift'erent  from  that  of  Sirach.  Wisdom 
is  not  created  by  God,  but  is  found  by  Him,  as 
though  an  independent  pre-existence — '  He  found 
her  out  with  His  understanding'  (ib.).  But  the 
personification  is  thinner  and  more  pallid  than  in 
Sirach.  There  is  no  real  dualism.  The  language 
is  little  more  than  a  metaphorical  expression  of 
the  idea  that  God  has  the  wisdom  which  is  above 
human  reach.  Still  it  goes  on  into  a  sort  of 
myth,  for  Wisdom  thus  discovered  by  God  hidden 
in  some  remote  region  afterwards  appears  on 
earth  and  becomes  conversant  with  men  (3^'). 
Here  we  have  a  curious  parallel  to  the  Johannine 
conception  of  the  Word  originally  with  God  and 
then  becoming  incarnate  and  dwelling  with  men. 
But  Baruch  has  no  conception  of  incarnation,  and 
the  idea  has  no  place  in  the  Hebrew  personification 
of  wisdom. 

3.  Wisdom.— («)  The  nature  of  Wisdom. — Al- 
thoush,  as  an  Alexandrian  work  in  touch  with 
Greek  pliilos.i]iliy,  the  Bk.  of  Wisdom  carries  the 
doctrine  nf  IJnlJniiitli  a  stage  forward  in  the  direc- 
tion ot  I'hild,  It  is  es.sentially  Jewish,  and  its  idea 
of  wisdom  is  fundamentally  the  same  as  that  of 
Proverbs  and  Sirach,  but  with  additions,  some  of 
which  majr  be  attributed  to  Hellenic  influences. 
The  essential  Hebrew  elements,  however,  remain. 
While  a  movement  of  intellect,  wisdom  is  practical, 
moral,  and  religious.  We  are  no  more  in  the 
regions  of  metaphysics  or  e\en  abstract  ethical 
speculation  than  in  the  Palestinian  literature. 
Thus  we  read — 

'  For  her  true  beginning  is  desire  of  discipline ; 
And  the  care  for  discipline  is  love  of  her '  (C^^). 

(b)  Personification.— "Vhe  personification  of  Wis- 
dom, though  still  very  shadowy,  is  a  little  more 
accentuated  than  in  Sirach.  Wisdom  is  described 
as  'a  spirit'  (l"),  and  as  such  seems  to  be  identi- 
fied with  'the  spirit  of  God'  (v.').  In  answer  to 
Solomon's  prayer  Goii  gave  him  'a  spirit  of  wis- 
dom '  (7').  '  She  is  a  breath  of  the  power  of  God ' 
(7-=).  She  sits  as  God's  'assessor'  (Drummond)  by 
His  side  on  His  throne  (9^).  When,  however, 
various  functions,  such  as  Creation  and  Providence, 
seem  to  be  ascribed  to  her,  this  cannot  be  as  to  a 
personal  agent,  because  they  are  al.so  ascribed  to 
God  (e.g.  9'-^).  It  must  be,  therefore,  that  God  is 
thought  of  as  doing  these  things  by  means  of  His 
wisdom. 

(c)  Attributes.— A.  string  of  21  attributes,  in 
thoroughly  Greek  style,  is  ascribed  to  the  spirit 
of  Wisdom  (7^-*-).  Among  other  things,  she  is  said 
to  be  '  only  begotten '  (tiovoyevh,  the  very  word 
used  of  Christ  in  Jn  1"-  '^  3'«- '« and  1  Jn  4^  though 
RV  of  Wisdom  renders  it  here  'alone  in  kind,' 
having  '  sole  born '  in  the  margin).  Further,  wis- 
dom is  described  as  '  a  clear  etHuenoe  of  the  glory 
of  the  Almighty'  and  an  'effulgence  (aTravyaaim, 
whence  He  1^)  from  everlasting  light'  (/-'"  ='^).  She 
is  free  from  all  defilement,  beneficent,  beautiful. 

((/)  Functions. — Divine  functions  are  asc^ribed  to 
Wisdom,  since  it  is  by  His  wisdom  that  God  per- 


APOCRYPHA 


APOCRYPHA 


forms  them.  (1)  Creation.  She  is  'the  artificer 
of  all  things '  (7^),  '  an  artificer  of  the  things  that 
are '(8*).  (2)  Providence.  The  function  of  wisdom 
in  providence  is  much  dwelt  on.  Wisdom  is  re- 
garded as  a  sort  of  guardian  angel  watching  over 
men  and  directing  the  course  of  history.  Patri- 
archal history  from  Adam  downward  is  described 
as  thus  under  the  charge  of  wisdom.  (3)  Revela- 
tion. The  picture  of  Wisdom  as  the  effulgence 
from  everlasting  light  points  to  tliis.  She  is  also 
described  as  '  an  unspotted  mirror  of  the  working 
of  God,  and  an  image  {eiKiiv,  cf.  2  Cor  4-*,  Col  1'^)  of 
His  goodness '  (7^) ;  in  attaining  to  wisdom  we  come 
to  know  the  ways  of  God. 

(e)  IVisdmn  as  a  human  acquisition.  —  While 
wisdom  is  described  in  its  relation  to  God  as  co- 
extensive with  the  infinite  range  of  the  Divine 
activities,  it  is  also  represented  from  another  point 
of  view  as  a  treasure  which  mankind  is  invited  to 
seek.  The  dittieulty  of  acquiring  wisdom  .suggested 
in  Baruch  is  not  found  here.  On  the  contrary,  we 
read  that— 

'Easily  is  she  beheld  of  them  that  love  her. 
And  found  of  them  that  seek  her '  (612).  ^ 
Moreover,  there  is  no  limitation  of  JeOTsh  ex- 
clusiveness  in  the  privilege  of  enjoying  this  great- 
est of  God's  gifts,  'for  wisdom  is  a  spirit  that 
loveth  man '  (F).  When  a  little  later  we  read  that 
'the  spirit  of  the  Lord  hath  filled  the  world' 
(71)1'  oUovixivriv,  'the  inhabited  earth,'  RVm),  the 
breadth  of  Hellenism  seen  throughout  the  Alex- 
andrian movement,  first  Jewish,  later  Christian, 
is  here  apparent.  While  Wisdom  is  identified  with 
the  Law  in  the  Palestinian  work  Sirach,  here  all 
true  enlightenment,  pagan  as  well  as  Jewish,  must 
be  included  in  this  far-reaching  wisdom.  At  the 
same  time,  this  widespread  wisdom  is  very  ditterent 
from  Greek  jjhilosophy.  The  practical,  ethical 
element  which  is  essential  to  the  Hebrew  Ifokhmah 
is  always  its  chief  constituent.  Moreover,  the 
homelier  conception  of  wisdom  as  an  exalted 
prudence  serviceable  in  worldly  affairs,  which  is 
often  apparent  in  Proverbs  and  Sirach,  is  also  to 
be  found  in  the  Bk.  of  Wisdom. 

(/)  Anticipations  of  Ckristology. — With  this  con- 
ception of  wisdom  we  cannot  claim  tlie  identity 
of  terms  (airaiyatriia,  ehiJiv,  Xi^os)  which  are  here 
applied  to  wisdom  and  in  tlie  NT  to  Jesus  Christ 
as  an  indication  of  any  clear  anticipation  of  Cliris- 
tian  truth.  It  is  rather  the  other  way.  St.  Paul 
and  the  author  of  Hebrews  knew  Wisdom,  and 
made  use  of  expressions  in  the  book  for  their  own 
purposes,  giving  to  them  a  riclier  Cliristian  mean- 
ing. Nor  can  it  be  allowed  tliat  the  use  of  the 
word  XiSvos  as  closely  associated  with  wisdom  is 
any  real  anticipation  of  the  X6-yo5  doctrine  of  Philo. 
In  Wis  9'  we  read — 

'  O  God  of  the  fathers,  and  Lord  who  keepest  thy  mercy. 
Who  madest  all  things  by  thy  word'  (»  ^mtrcts  ik  n'ivTa  U 
Xoyu  oreu). 

■This  is  evidently  an  allusion  to  the  Creation  story 
in  Gn  1,  so  that  we  must  understand  X670S  in  tlie 
sense  of  '  word'  (ijj,  in  the  familiar  OT  expression 
'  the  word  of  the  Lord ').  But  Philo  uses  \6yoi  in 
the  Stoic  sense  of  '  reason.'  It  may  be  conjectured 
that  the  transition  to  this  meaning  has  begun  in 
Wis.,  because  the  line  immediately  following  that 
just  quoted  is,  'and  by  thy  wisdom  thou  formedst 
man '  (Wis  9°).  Thus  X6705  is  treated  as  parallel  to 
■ivisdom.  In  any  case  \byot  is  a  rational  word,  not 
a  mere  utterance  of  the  voice,  but  a  word  with 
thought,  reason  in  it.  Still,  the  author  elsewhere 
uses  the  term  in  the  sense  of  '  word '  as  the  implied 
reference  to  Gn  I  indicates  that  he  does  here.*    It 

"  xiyK  occurs  15  times  in  Wisdom  (viz.  19- 16  22- 17-20  6911 
7I6  88. 18  91  129  1612  1815.  ffi).  1,1 13  of  these  instances  there  is  no 
question  that  it  means  '  word.'  Of  the  2  remaining  cases  one  is 
that  now  under  consideration  ;  the  other  is  22—'  And  while  our 


would  be  nearer  the  mark  to  say  that  Jn  1'  is  an 
echo  of  Wis  9'.  Still  there  is  much  more  in  the 
prologue  to  the  Fourtli  Gospel  than  can  be  derived 
m  any  way  from  this  simple  statement,  and  a  great 
deal  of  that  reminds  us  more  of  Philo  than  of 
Wisdom.  The  conclusion  would  seem  to  be  that 
in  John  as  in  Wisdom  X070S  is  used  in  the  common 
Biblical  sense  of  '  word ' ;  but  that  there  are  also 
associations  with  Philo,  the  author  of  the  Fourth 
Gospel  ascribing  to  the  X070S  as  '  word  '  some  of  the 
attributes  which  Philo  had  ascribed  to  his  Xo'7os  as 
'reason.'  Accordingly  the  prologue  to  the  Fourth 
Gospel  may  be  said  to  combine  reminiscences  both 
of  Wisdom  and  of  Philo,  together  with  its  own 
original  Christian  ideas. 

iii.  Anticipation  of  Christian  Doctrines. 
—Anticipations  of  the  Christ  idea,  either  as  Mes- 
siah or  as  Wisdom,  have  been  dealt  with  in  the 
previous  sections.  It  remains  to  be  seen  for  what 
other  Christian  doctrines  preparation  is  made  in 
the  Apocrypha. 

1.  The  Doctrine  of  God.— This  subject  is  treated 
very  fully  in  DB,  Extra  Vol.  art.  'Development 
of  Doctrine,'  pp.  276-281.  All  that  is  called  for 
here  is  to  indicate  those  phases  of  the  doctrine 
that  approach  the  Christian  idea.  1  Maccabees  is 
remarkable  for  its  omission  of  any  direct  reference 
to  God.  But  although  (according  to  the  best  text) 
the  name  of  God  does  not  appear,  He  is  thought  of 
under  the  euphemism  'heaven'  {e.g.  1  Mac  3"). 
Therefore  we  must  take  the  omission  of  the  sacred 
name  as  an  indication  of  the  reverence  that  feared 
to  mention  it,  which  was  characteristic  of  a  later 
Judaism.  This  went  with  the  growing  conception 
of  the  Divine  transcendence  which  was  not  an 
anticipation  of  Christianity,  but  the  reverse,  and 
against  which  Christianity  was  a  reaction.  Still  it 
prepared  for  Christianity  by  emphasizing  the  need 
of  some  intermediary  power  to  bring  man  into 
contact  with  God,  a  mediating  Christ.  While  no 
hint  of  anytliing  of  the  kind  is  dropped  in  the 
historical  part  of  the  Apocrypha,  the  soil  is  here 

{irepared  for  it  by  the  very  barrenness  of  religion  in 
ack  of  it.  Tlie  popular  tales  in  the  Apocrypha  con- 
tribute nothing  material  to  the  conception  of  God. 
The  fierce  patriotism  of  Judith  falls  back  on  the 
ancient  appropriation  of  Jehovah  for  Israel ;  but 
this  can  scarcely  be  reckoned  a  theological  narrow- 
ing, since  the  thought  is  not  turned  to  any  question 
concerning  the  nature  of  God.  In  the  Wisdom 
literature,  however,  we  may  look  for  some  develop- 
ment of  the  doctrine.  Negatively  we  see  this  in 
the  avoidance  of  the  anthropomorphism  that  fear- 
lessly asserted  itseh"  in  the  (JT.  Not  only  is  there 
no  approach  to  a  theophany  in  human  form,  but 
the  human  features  often  poetically  ascribed  to 
God  in  the  older  literature  do  not  appear.  This, 
again,  goes  with  the  growing  feeling  of  Divine 
transcendence,  which  is  alien  to  Christianity.  But 
it  is  also  an  indication  of  a  spiritual  conception 
that  may  be  taken  as  an  ticipatory  of  the  spiritual 
idea  of  (jlod  in  the  NT.  In  Sirach,  God  is  not  so 
much  too  remote,  but  ral  her  too  great  for  men  to 
understand  His  nature — 


God  is  addressed  as  '  Father'  and  Master  of  my  life ' 
(23'),  and  '  Father  and  God  of  my  life'  (v.''),  which 
imjilies  the  Divine  fatherhood  of  the  individual,  a 
doctrine  only  just  reached  in  the  latest  OT  teach- 
ing. Moreover,  the  goodness  of  God  extends  to  all 
mankind  (18'^).  In  AVisdom,  under  the  influence  of 
Hellenic  thought,  the  idealising  process  is  pushed 
further.  God  is  the  'eternal  light'  (Wis  7®*),  so 
that  wisdom   which  irradiates  the  world  is  the 

heart  beateth,  reason  is  a  spark.'  Helre  it  is  human  reason  that 
is  referred  to.  In  everv  case  where  i,o>-i>.-  is  predicated  of  God 
the  sense  is  '  word.'    See  especiaUy  129  i822. 


APOCRYPHA 


APOCRYPHA 


effluence  from  this  central  fountain  of  light.  On 
the  other  liand,  there  is  a  narrowing  of  the  idea 
of  creation  under  tlie  influence  of  the  Greek  notion 
of  pre-existent  matter.  God  creates  the  world  out 
of  '  formless  matter  '  (11"),  and  creation  is  described 
as  being  'impressed,'  like  wax  by  the  seal  (19*^). 
The  motive  of  creation  was  love,  and  God  hates 
nothing  that  He  has  made,  loving  all  things  that 
are  (11-^).  Nevertheless,  it  is  said  in  another  place 
that  God  only  loves  him  who  dwells  with  wisdom 
(7^).  The  seeming  inconsistency  may  be  reconciled 
if  we  understand  that  here  we  have  the  more  special 
personal  affection  of  Divine  friendship. 

2.  The  Fall  and  Original  5'm.— While  Gn  3  con- 
tains the  narrative  of  the  fall  of  Adam,  (1)  it  does 
not  attribute  this  to  the  devil,  not  identifying  the 
serpent  with  Satan,  but  treating  it  simply  as  the 
most  subtle  of  beasts ;  and  (2)  it  does  not  affirm  that 
either  sin  or  death  visits  the  whole  race  in  conse- 
quence of  this  primary  ofience  and  its  doom.  But 
both  of  these  ideas  appear  in  Christianity  ;  and  the 
latter  is  contained  in  the  writings  of  St.  Paul, 
who  does  not  give  it  as  part  of  the  new  teaching, 
but  assumes  that  it  is  already  an  accepted  belief. 


St.  Paul  simply  appeals  to  it  as  a  basis  for  his 
analogous  teaching  concerning  Christ.  Thus  he 
writes, '  as  through  the  one  man's  disobedience  the 
many  were  made  sinners '  (Ko  5''),  and  similarly 
with  the  second  part  of  the  doctrine,  '  as  in  Adam 
all  die'  (1  Co  15--).  Therefore  these  ideas  must 
liave  grown  up  apart  from  the  OT.  Now  we 
find  them  in  the  Apocr.  Wisdom  literature,  both 
Palestinian  and  Alexandrian,  e.g.  the  Palestinian 
teaching — 

'  From  a  woman  was  the  beginning;  of  sin  ; 
And  because  of  her  we  all  die'  (Sir  252-'>— 
an  easy  inference  from  Gn  3,  but  never  made  in 
the  OT.     Then  there  is  the  Alexandrian  teaching, 
'  By  the  envy  of  the  devil,  death  entered  into  the 
world '  (Wis  2"). 

Griitz  rep:ards  this  as  a  Christian  interpolation  ;  but  Dr.  Drum- 
mond  shows  that  his  three  reasons  for  this  view  do  not  appear 
to  have  much  force.  (1)  Gr.atz  objects  that  the  clause  disturbs 
"of  the  passage,  but  it  balances  the  previous 


*  God  created  man  for  incorruption, 
And  made  him  an  image  of  his  own  proper  being'  (v. 23) ; 
for  thus  we  have  the  antithesis  which  is  one  of  the  common 
forms  of  Hebrew  poetry.  (2)  For  Gratz  to  assert  that  it  has 
for  him  'absolutely  no  sense,'  is  a  criticism  that  would  apply 
to  it  equally  whoever  wrote  it.  (3)  The  fact  that  it  is  without 
parallel  in  other  Jewish  writings  must  not  be  taken  as  con- 
demning it.  The  idea  is  familiar  in  Christian  literature ;  yet 
there  is  nothing  specifically  Christian  about  it,  since  it  sim'ply 
results  from  an  application  of  the  doctrine  of  a  devil  to  the 
Genesis  narrative,  with  the  exercise  of  some  ima-rination  as  to 
the  Evil  Spirit's  motive.  Moreover,  Milton's  adoption  of  the 
idea  of  envy  as  that  motive  in  Paradise  Last,  shows  that,  to  a 
great  poet  at  all  events,  the  expression  is  not  without  a  reason- 
able meaning.  The  author  of  Wisdom  is  a  sufficiently  brilliant 
writer  to  have  struck  out  these  ideas  and  made  the  inferences 
without  any  antecedent  example.  Diihne  considers  the  passage 
to  be  allegorical,  because  the  notion  of  '  an  evil  principle  in 
opposition  to  the  Divine  is  foreign  to  pure  Alexandrianism.' 
Accordingly  he  applies  Philo's  interpretation  of  Gn  3  to  it,  and 
understands  the  word  Sii/3oX»t  to  stand  for  the  serpent  as  an 
image  of  carnal  pleasure.  But  why  should  not  the  writer 
mention  the  serpent  if  he  meant  it  ?  Since  o  Sia/SoXo?  appears 
in  the  LXX  for  '  the  Satan,'  it  is  impossible  that  a  Jew  who  was 
familiar  with  that  version  would  use  the  word  in  an  entirely 
original  way  for  a  reptile.  The  story  of  fallen  angels  was  not 
unfamiliar  to  Jewish  Apocalyptic  literature  (see  Drummond, 
Phito  Judceus,  p.  196  f.).  That,  however.  Wisdom  does  not 
teach  the  total  depravity  of  the  race,  we  may  infer  from  its 
singling  out  the  inhabitants  of  Canaan  as  deserving  to  be 
extirpated  because  of  their  innate  vice.  '  Their  nature  by  birth 
was  evil '  (1210) ;  '  they  were  a  seed  accursed  from  the  begin- 
ning' (v.ll).  Here  a  doctrine  of  heredity  is  implied ;  but  it  is 
applied  only  to  the  Oanaanites,  who  are  regarded  as  of  an  in- 
It  is  to  be  inferred  that 

The  late  date  of  2  Esdras  removes  it  out  of  the 
category  of  anticipations  of  Christianity.  Still,  as 
a  Jewish  work  it  witnesses  to  Jewish  thoughts 
which  have  their  roots  in  an  earlier  period.  Now 
this  book  distinctly  teaches  the  doctrine  of  original 


sin.  The  angel  Uriel  undertakes  to  teach  Esdras 
'  wherefore  the  heart  is  wicked  '  (2  Es  4^).  In  an 
earlier  passage  the  sin  of  the  race  was  traced  to 
Adam  (3=').  The  pessimism  of  the  book  is  espe- 
cially gloomy  in  regard  to  this  subject.  Esdras 
declares  that  '  it  had  been  better  that  the  earth 
had  not  given  thee  Adam,  or  else,  when  it  had 
given  him,  to  have  restrained  him  from  sinning' 
(7^*).  Though  it  was  Adam  who  sinned,  the  evil 
did  not  fall  on  him  alone,  but  on  all  of  us  who 
come  from  him  (v.*). 

3.  Redemption. — There  is  nothing  approaching 
the  Christian  doctrine  of  redemption  in  the  Apoc- 
rypha. The  NT  teachers  had  to  go  back  beyond 
all  this  literature  to  Is  53  for  the  seed  thoughts  of 
their  specific  teaching  on  this  subject.  In  the 
Messianic  ideas,  as  far  as  these  appear  in  the 
Apocrypha,  which  we  have  seen  is  but  meagrely, 
there  are  the  two  thoughts  of  God  redeeming  His 
people,  and  the  Christ  coming  as  a  personal  re- 
demption. There  is  no  anticipation  of  the  doctrine 
of  the  cross.  The  sombre  prediction  of  the  death 
of  the  Christ  in  2  Es.  (later  than  the  Christian 
gospel,  as  it  is)  contains  no  hint  that  this  is  either 
sacrificial  or  redemptive.  The  goodness  and  mercy 
of  God  in  delivering  His  people  are  frequently  cele- 
brated ;  but  with  no  specific  doctrine  of  salvation. 
The  Hokhmah  teaching  would  suggest  that  escape 
from  sin  is  to  be  had  through  the  acquisition  of 
wisdom,  which  is  rooted  in  the  fear  of  the  Lord. 
It  was  wisdom  that  brought  the  first  man  out  of 
his  fall  (Wis  W).  Tobit  has  the  great  OT  teach- 
ing of  God's  forgiveness  for  His  penitent  people 
whom  He  scourges  for  their  iniquity,  but  to  whom 
He  will  show  mercy.  If  they  turn  to  Him  with 
all  their  heart  and  soul  to  do  truth  before  Him, 
He  will  turn  to  them  (To  IS'*-  '^).  Sinners  must 
turn  and  do  righteousness  if  they  would  receive 
His  restoring  grace.  The  Patristic  idea  that  the 
'  blessed  .  .  .  wood  .  .  .  through  which  cometh 
righteousness'  (Wis  14',  cf.  Ac  5™,  1  P  2=^)  is  the 
cross,  ignores  the  context,  which  plainly  shows  that 
the  reference  is  to  Noah's  Ark  (see  v.*). 

4.  Liberalizing  of  religion. — In  several  respects 
the  Apocrypha  shows  advance  beyond  the  narrower 
exclusiveness  of  Judaism.  The  historical  situation 
in  1  Mac.  did  not  encourage  this  movement.  When 
the  Jews  were  struggling  for  freedom  of  life  and 
worship  against  the  forcible  intrusion  of  pagan- 
ism, they  were  not  in  a  condition  for  missionary 
enthusiasm.  Judith  breathes  a  spirit  of  fiercest 
Jewish  patriotism.  But  Tobit  in  his  prayer  of 
rejoicing  declares  that  many  nations  shall  come 
from  far  to  the  name  of  the  Lord  God  with  gifts  in 
their  hands  (To  13").  That  this  is  not  the  re- 
luctant homage  of  subject  peoples  is  shown  by  the 
sequel,  where  we  read  about  'generations  of  genera- 
tions '  praising  God  with  songs  of  rejoicing.  Still 
all  this  is  ministering  to  the  glory  of  Jerusalem. 
Israel  is  exalted  in  the  honour  shown  to  her 
God.  The  Palestinian  Hokhmah  literature  is  not 
free  from  Jewish  narrowness.  In  Sirach,  God 
is  prayed  to  send  His  fear  on  all  nations.  But 
this  is  to  be  by  lifting  up  His  hand  against  them, 
so  that  they  may  see  His  mighty  power.  Still 
some  gracious  end  even  in  this  stern  treatment  of 
the  heathen  may  be  desired,  since  the  prayer  pro- 
ceeds, '  And  let  them  know  thee,  as  we  also  have 
known  thee '  (Sir  36=).  God  is  asked  to  hear  the 
prayer  of  His  suppliants  [Israel],  in  order  that  all 
on  the  earth  may  know  that  He  is  the  Lord,  the 
eternal  God  (v.'').  This  may  not  mean  more 
than  the  acknowledgment  of  God  for  His  glory 
and  for  the  reflexion  of  that  on  His  privileged 
people.  On  the  other  hand,  the  importance  at- 
tached to  wisdom  has  a  widening  tendency ;  for 
this  is  an  internal  grace,  not  an  external  privi- 
lege.    But  the  identification  of  wisdom  in  Sirach 


100 


APOCRYPHA 


APOCRYPHA 


with  interest  in  the  Law  (39')  tends  to  limit  this 
grace  itself  and  confine  it  to  Israel. 

When  we  turn  to  the  Alexandrian  teaching  of 
the  Book  of  AVisdom  we  expect  a  wider  outlook. 
Here  also  the  national  privileges  of  Israel  are 
accentuated.  God  gave  oaths  and  covenants  of 
good  promises  to  the  nation's  ancestors  (12-'  18*). 
Moreover,  '  the  righteous  '  are  to  judge  the 
nations  and  have  rule  over  the  people  (3*).  But 
since  the  domain  of  wisdom  is  world-wide  and 
'  the  spirit  of  God  filleth  tlie  world'  (1'),  it  might 
be  suppo.sed  that  the  world  at  large  would  benefit 
by  that  gracious  presence.  Princes  of  peoples  are 
invited  to  honour  wisdom  that  they  may  reign  for 
ever  (6°'),  an  invitation  necessarily  applying  to  the 
Gentile  world.  It  is  stated  in  a  general  way  that 
'  the  ways  of  them  which  are  on  the,  earth '  [more 
than  Israel]  were  corrected  by  wisdom  (9").  There 
is  a  magnificent  universalism  in  the  great  saying 
that  God  loves  all  things  that  are,  and  abhors  none 
of  tlie  things  that  He  has  made  (11=^).  God's  in- 
corruptible spirit  is  in  all  things  (12')  ;  there  is  no 
other  God  that  careth  for  all  (v.'^) ;  His  sove- 
reignty over  all  leads  Him  to  forbear  all  (v.'«). 
But  further  than  this  the  book  does  not  go.  It 
contains  no  explicit  promise  of  redemption  or  of 
the  blessings  of  the  future  for  the  world  outside 
Israel,  though  it  would  be  no  illegitimate  inference 
from  these  laj-ge  ideas  concerning  the  presence  and 
activity  and  gi'aciousness  of  God  the  whole  world 
over  to  conclude  that  such  good  things  were  not 
to  be  confined  to  Israel.  On  the  other  hand,  not 
only  were  the  Canaanites  a  helplessly  evil  race, 
but  the  more  recent  oppressors  of  Israel,  whose 
gross  idolatry  is  scornfully  portrayed  at  large, 
after  the  manner  of  Deutero-Isaiah,  are  described 
as  '  prisoners  of  darkness  .  .  .  exiled  from  the 
eternal  providence'  (17-).  For  other  heathen 
people  allowance  is  made  on  account  of  their 
ignorance.  '  For  these  men  there  is  but  small 
blame :  for  they  too,  peradventure,  do  but  go 
astray'  (13«). 

5.  Eesurrc.ction  and  Immortal  it  tj. — With  regard 
to  no  other  subject  is  advance  from  the  OT  stand- 
jK)int  towards  that  of  the  NT  more  apparent  in  tlie 
Apocrypha.  The  distinction  between  Palestinian 
and  Alexandrian  conceptions  is  here  very  marked, 
the  Palestinian  writings  promising  resuiTection,  the 
Alexandrian  making  no  reference  to  a  resunection, 
but  adopting  the  Greek  idea  of  the  immortality  of 
the  soul.  The  more  conservative  books  of  the 
former  school,  Tobit,  Sirach,  and  1  IMac,  contain  no 
reference  to  the  resurrection  or  the  future  life  in  any 
form,  retaining  only  the  old  gloomy  Hebrew  notion 
of  Sheol,  whicli,  on  the  other  hand,  in  these  writings 
is  not  Gehenna,  not  a  pla/;e  of  punisliment.  '  There 
are  no  chastisements  in  Sheol '  (Sir  41^  Heb.  mar., 
and  LXX).*  According  to  I'obit,  Sheol  is  an 
'  eternal  place '  (3')  where  life  is  extinct.  '  All  the 
rewards  of  faithfulness  enumerated  by  the  dying 
Mattathias  (I  Mac  2'-'")  are  limited  to  this  life' 
(Charles,  Eschat.  p.  219).  In  Judith  eternal  punish- 
ment is  threatened  to  the  enemies  of  Israel  (16") ; 
but  nothing  is  said  about  a  future  life  for  God's 
people.  2  Mac,  an  epitome  of  the  five  books  of 
Jason  of  Cyrene  &'^),  contains  a  clear  doctrine  of 
resurrection  to  eternal  life  (V),  which  is  denied 
to  the  non-Israelite  (v.")  j  this  is  a  bodily  resur- 
rection (7"-  ^■-  ^),  and  it  will  be  enjoyed  in'the  fel- 
lowship of  brethren  similarly  privileged  (v.™).  In 
2  Esdras  we  have  '  the  day  of  judgment '  ( 12**).  A 
first  resurrection  may  be  suggested  by  the  refer- 
ence to  '  those  that  will  be  with  him  '  in  tlie  day 
of  God's  Son  (13*-).     The  end  will  come  when  the 

*  Dr.  Charles  points  out  that  the  reference  to  Gehenna  in  Sir 
717  18  undoubtedly  corrupt,  since  it  is  contrary  to  the  whole  out- 
look of  the  writer  as  to  thf  future,  and  is  not  supported  by  the 
Heb.,  Sir.,  and  best  JISS  of  the  Ethiopic {EschatiHugy,  p.  104). 


number  of  those  like  Ezra  is  complete  (4**).  Till 
then  the  spirits  of  the  wicked  shall  wander  about 
in  torment  while  God's  servants  will  be  at  rest 
(7").  These  spirits  of  the  wicked  will  be  tor- 
mented in  seven  ways  (vv.*'-S7),  and  after  the  final 
judgment  even  more  grievously  (v.**).  On  the 
otlier  hand,  those  who  have  kept  the  ways  of  the 
Most  High  shall  have  joy  in  seven  ways,  accord- 
ing to  their  seven  orders,  during  the  intermediate 
period,  and  after  the  judgment  receive  glory  (v.^*), 
when  '  their  face  shall  shine  as  the  sun,'  and  '  they 
shall  be  made  like  unto  the  light  of  the  stars, 
being  henceforth  incorruptible  '  (v.*'). 

In  Wisdom  there  is  no  idea  of  resurrection.  Tlie 
body  is  the  temporary  eartlily  burden  (9'*)  of  a 
jire-existent  soul  (8*).  Immortality  is  for  the 
soul,  but  not  by  nature  or  necessity.  It  is  attained 
through  wisdom  (8'^-  ").  Still  it  was  God's  design 
tliat  man  should  enjoy  it,  for  He  '  created  man 
for  incorruption '  (2-").  '  "The  souls  of  the  right- 
eous are  in  the  hand  of  God '  (3'),  at  peace,  with 
a  hope  full  of  immortality.  '  The  righteous  live 
for  ever '  (v.'=).  The  wicked  have  no  hope  in  their 
death.  They  will  be  dashed  speechless  to  the 
ground  ;  and  yet  their  fate  does  not  seem  to  be 
annihilation,  for  '  they  shall  lie  utterly  waste,  and 
they  shall  be  in  anguish '  (4").  But  there  is  no 
definite  statement  of  eternal  punisliment. 

iv.    U.SE    OF   THE   APOCRYPH.A.    IN    THE    GO-SPELS 

AND  THE  Church.— Our  Apocr.,  which  consists  of 
Jewish  writings  contained  in  the  Vulg.  but  not 
found  in  the  Hebrew  OT,  rests  primarily  on  the 
LXX,  and  that  was  the  version  of  the  OT  com- 
monly used  by  the  Greek-speaking  Jews  in  the 
times  of  the  Apostles,  and  subsequently  by  the 
Christians.  Being  thus  the  Scriptures  in  the 
hands  of  the  NT  writers,  the  LXX  introduced 
the  Apocr.  to  them  together  with  the  books  of  our 
OT.  But  most  of  the  NT  writers  knew  the  Hebrew 
Bible.  This  is  evident  in  the  case  of  St.  Paul,  St. 
John,  and  St.  Matthew.  The  only  certain  excep- 
tion is  the  author  of  Hebrews,  to  whom  probably 
we  should  add  St.  Luke;  and  it  is  reasonable. to 
suppose  that  these  two  men,  being  the  most 
scholarly  NT  writers,  were  not  unacquainted  with 
the  limits  of  the  Palestinian  Canon.  No  NT  writer 
names  any  book  of  the  Apocr.,  nor  is  there  any 
direct  quotation  from  one  of  these  books  in  the 
NT.  Phrases  from  some  of  them  indicate,  how- 
ever, that  these  books  were  used  by  the  writers 
in  whom  they  occur,  although  there  is  no  evidence 
that  they  regarded  them  as  authoritative.  On 
the  other  hand,  2  Esdras  borrows  from  the  NT, 
especially  from  the  Apocalypse.  2  Es  8'  is  an  echo 
of  Mt  20'^.  Tlie  only  books  of  our  Apocr.  to  which 
reference  can  be  manifestly  traced  in  the  NT 
are  the  works  of  Wisdom  literature,  Wisdom  and 
Sirach,  e;-pecially  the  former  ;  and  the  NT  writers 
who  most  evidently  make  allusion  to  phrases  in 
those  books  are  St.  Paul,  St.  James,  and  the 
autlior  of  Hebrews.  Since  these  writers  are  be- 
yond the  scope  of  this  Dictionary,  the  inquirer 
IS  referred  to  DB  articles,  '  Wisdom,'  '  Sirach,' 
'  Apocrypha,'  and  those  on  the  various  NT  books. 

Coming  to  the  special  subject  of  the  present 
volume,  we  note  that  Jesus  Christ  never  names 
or  distinctly  cites  any  of  the  books  of  the  Apocr., 
nor  are  any  of  them  mentioned  or  directly  quoted 
by  any  of  the  Evangelists.  Nevertheless  there 
seem  to  be  several  reminiscences  of  Wisdom  and 
Sirach,  if  not  direct  allusions  to  those  books  in  the 
Gospels. 

Wis  3'  has  been  connected  with  Mt  13« ;  but  the  Gospel 
phrase  can  be  better  derived  from  Dn  123,  for  in  both  cases  the 
same  verb  is  used — txi^u^^urM,  while  in  Wis.  the  verb  is 
itct>.ufA^tua-i¥.  Wis  33  'Thev  shall  judire(v"0''<r'*) the  nations' 
may  be  alluded  to  in  Mt  1928  •  judging  («^,.«.tb)  the  twelve 
tribes  of  Israel ' :  and,  if  so,  the  chan'^-e  is  in  accordance  «ith  our 
Lord's  uioditicatious  of  Jewish  Messianic  expectations,  shoniug 


APOCRYPHA 


APOSTLES 


101 


that  the  judgment  which  the  Jews  reserved  for  Gentiles  was  to 
come  upon  Israel.  Possibly  Wis  44  is  alluded  to  in  Mt  7i9.  But 
Wis  91  (0  mmit!  TO,  criircc  U  \iyu  nu)  may  be  more  than  antici- 
pation of  Jn  13  ;  it  may  have  su^jgested  the  idea  in  the  Gospel, 
though  the  entirely  different  lanjiuage  (toc^t*  Si'  ctiiou  iytviTo) 
with  reference  to  the  function  of  the  Log:os  in  creation  excludes 
the  notion  of  actual  quotation.  Wis  15»  '  when  he  is  required 
(kftcLiTViOiis)  to  render  back  the  soul  (t>;j  '4'wxiiV)  which  was  lent 
him'  is  suggested  by  Lk  12™  '  this  nip:ht  is  thy  soul  (ri,,  •i,uxn<i 
nv)  required  (iT«iToD»-i«)  of  thee.'  Perhaps  '  the  darkness  that 
should  afterwards  receive  them '  (Wis  1721)  suggested  our  Lord's 
image  of  '  outer  darkness '  (Mt  812)  as  the  fate  of  the  lost ;  but 
the  idea  is  too  general  to  make  any  connexion  evident.  On 
the  other  hand,  Mt  1241-  ■12  should  not  be  cited  as  a  reference  to 
Wis  416  ;  nor  Lk  12"-  «  for  Wis  68 ;  nor  Jn  7"  for  Wis  612  ;  nor 
Mt  2634  for  Wis  98  ;  nor  Mt  4-'  for  Wis  1626.  The  last  instance  is 
a  declared  quotation  from  the  OT,  and  the  other  cases  are  too 
vague  to  allow  of  any  identification. 

Sir  215  '  They  that  love  {a.yx.TuvTK)  him  will  keep  {rripr^eouiriv) 
his  ways'  may  well  have  suggested  the  language  in  Jn  1423 
'  If  a  man  love  {U-yx-rS.)  me  he  will  keep  (tti^ w:;)  my  word." 
Sir  44  'Turn  not  away  (fj-vi  xrorrpi-^'^JO  thy  face  from  a  poor 
man '  suggests  to  us  Mt  6^2  '  From  him  that  would  borrow  of 
thee,  turn  not  thou  away  (uh  x-rcfrrpxifii;).'  Sir  714  '  Repeat 
not  thy  words  in  thy  prayer'  suggests  Mt  6T,  but  here  the 
Greek  is  very  different ;  Sir  lOi*  '  The  Lord  cast  down  the 
thrones  of  rulers,  and  set  the  meek  in  their  stead,'  is  probably 
the  source  of  Lk  1=2,  which  is  nearer  to  it  than  to  Job  6"  or  Ps 
14'?6,  especially  in  the  use  of  the  word  '  thrones.'  Possibly  Sir 
1119  suggested  Lk  12"  ;  Sir  121  has  been  associated  with  Mt  76, 
it  is  more  likely  to  have  suggested  Diclache  1 ;  Sir  1921  is  too 
general  and  obvious  to  have  suggested  Jit  2129,  which  is  more 
definite  and  specific ;  Sir  21"  '  He  that  kcepeth  the  law  be- 
cometh  master  of  the  interest  thereof '  is  a  fine  anticipation  of 
Jn  7I" ;  Sir  -239  anticipates  our  Lord's  rebuke  of  swearing  (Jit 
533.  34)_  but  is  less  specific  ;  the  metaphor  of  the  vine  in  Jn  ISif- 
is  not  to  be  referred  to  Sir  241',  it  is  more  likely  to  have  been 

t  614  seems  to  be  1 

.  „  ar  the  hurt  that  hi 
hath  done  thee ;  and  then  thy  sins  shall  he  pardoned  when 
thou  prayest."  The  association  of  Mt  6i9with  Sir  2912,  proposed 
by  Daubney,  is  very  doubtful ;  equally  vague  is  that  of  Mt  1627 
with  Sir  3224  '  He  that  trusteth  in  the  Lord  shall  suffer  no  loss.' 
In  both  of  these  cases  the  sli^'ht  resemblances  are  probably 
purely  accidental.  Lk  li'tj  tTicrrpi^Ki  xxphix;  recnpav  l-ri 
■rixvac  evidently  comes  from  Sir  4810  iTio-T()!iJ-«i  xxplixv  T«Tf«j 
Tpos  viov.  The  peculiarity  of  thought  and  phrase  is  too  striking 
for  an  accidental  coincidence.  But  that  it  is  a  reminiscence  and 
not  a  direct  quotation  is  clear  from  the  three  changes  of  words 
for  which  no  reason  can  be  assigned  since  the  sense  remains 
the  same,  viz.  singular  for  plural ;  t/jw  for  m  ;  uln  for  -nxim.. 
The  following  clause  in  the  parallelism  is  entirely  different  in 
the  two  texts,  so  that  either  the  conclusion  was  quite  forgotten 
or  a  new  conclusion  was  deliberately  formed.  In  Luke  we  have 
*  and  the  disobedient  to  walk  in  the  wisdom  of  the  just,'  while 
the  clause  in  Sir.  is  '  and  to  restore  the  tribes  of  Jacob.'  The 
expression  'the  wisdom  of  the  just'  in  Luke  seems  to  be  a 
reference  to  the  title  of  Sirach,  which  was  probably  originally 
simply  '  Wisdom  '  In  codex  B  this  is  called  20*IA  2EIPAX  ; 
and  in  the  Syriac,  NTD  IDT  Nn03n.  SimUarly  at  the  end  of 
the  Hebrew  text  it  is  described  as  'the  wisdom  of  Simeon  ben 
.Teshua  ben  Eleazar  ben  Sira.'  On  the  other  hand,  St.  Luke 
has  not  the  LXX  word  for  wisdom  (o-o^/'oi),  his  phrase  being  i> 
^/jflvniru  iixtx,lu)i.  The  conclusion  to  be  drawn  from  these  data 
seems  to  be  that  both  Wisdom  and  Sirach  were  known  to  Mat., 
Luke,  John,  or  to  collectors  of  Logia  of  Jesus  earlier  than  those 
Gospels,  that  Sirach  especially  was  used  by  the  author  of  the 
Maijnijicat^  and  that  our  Lord  seems  to  have  made  use  of  both 
books,  Sirach  more  probably  than  Wisdom. 

While  the  special  subjects  of  this  Dictionary  do 
not  call  for  a  study  of  the  Apocr.  in  later  times, 
a  topic  exhaustively  treated  in  DB,  vol.  i.  pp.  120- 
123,  a  brief  resume  of  its  history  in  the  Church 
may  be  here  added.  The  presence  of  the  books 
which  we  desirrnate  Apocryphal  in  the  LXX 
mixed  up  with  the  OT  Scriptures  of  the  narrower 
Heb.  Canon  would  naturally  tend  to  float  them 
among  the  Greek-speaking  Churches.  Several  of 
them  are  cited  as  Scripture  by  Irena;us  and 
Clement  of  Alexandria  in  the  Greek  Church,  and 
by  Tertullian  and  Cyprian  in  the  Latin  Church. 
While  Melito  of  Sardis  held  to  the  Hebrew  Canon, 
Origen  championed  the  more  comprehensive  Greek 
Canon.  A  century  later,  Cyril  of  Jerusalem  con- 
demned this  wider  Canon,  holding  to  the  Heb. 
22  books ;  and  his  position  was  confirmed  by  the 
Synod  of  Laodicea  (c.  360  A.D.).  Epiphanius  and 
especially  Athanasius  introduced  the  intermediate 
course,  a  recognition  of  several  of  the  Apocr.,  not, 
however,  as  in  the  Canon,  but  as  goud  and  useful. 
Since  then,  while  from  time  to  tinio  .scholars  have 
declared  the  Apocryphal  books  to  be  non-canonical, 
ix-li  has  used  them,  and  they  are 


the  Eastern  Clu; 


in  the  Bible  of  the  Greek  Church.  In  the  West, 
the  Apocr.  obtained  acceptance  as  part  of  the  Old 
Latin  Version,  which  was  based  on  the  LXX,  and 
as  such  formed  part  of  Jerome's  revision.  But 
when  Jerome  translated  the  OT  afresh  from  the 
Hebrew,  seeing  that  the  Apocr.  was  not  there,  he 
advised  its  rejection  from  the  Canon.  Still,  he 
allowed  it  an  intermediate  position  ;  and,  in  spite 
of  its  translator's  opinion  to  the  contrary,  the 
books  of  the  Apocr.  took  their  place  in  the 
Vulgate  as  integral  parts  of  Scripture.  At  the 
Council  of  Trent  the  Vulgate  being  pronounced 
infallibly  inspired,  the  Apocr.  was  canonized  with 
the  rest  of  that  version,  and  therefore  it  is  now 
regarded  as  Scripture  in  the  Roman  Catholic 
Church.  Among  Protestants  it  has  either  taken 
an  intermediate  position,  or  has  been  rejected 
as  not  being  Scripture.  Luther  placed  it  between 
the  OT  and  the  NT  with  the  title  '  Apocrypha,' 
and  a  statement  that  it  was  'not  equal  to  the 
Sacred  Scriptures,'  but  nevertheless  'useful  and 
good  to  read.'  The  Reformed  Church  is  more 
severe  ;  in  the  Ziirich  Bible  the  Apocryphal  books 
come  after  the  NT  as  '  not  numbered  among  the 
canonical  books,'  and  without  a  word  of  com- 
mendation. Coverdale  translated  the  Apocr.  and 
placed  it  between  the  OT  and  the  NT  with  a 
statement  that  the  books  were  in  the  Vulgate 
but  not  in  the  Hebrew.  It  has  a  similar  position 
in  subsequent  revisions,  including  AV  (1611),  where 
it  is  marked  '  Apocrypha.'  But  from  1629  onwards 
editions  of  the  AV  began  to  appear  without  it. 

Literature.— Swete,  OT  in  Greek  ;  RV  of  Apocrypha  ;  Com- 
mentaries by  Wace  (Holy  Bible  with  Com.,  Murray),  Fritzsche, 
and  Grimm^Kvrzge/asstes  Exetjetisches  Handbiichzu  den  Apocr. 
etc.);  Bissell  (Lange-Schaff) ;  DB  articles,  'Apocrypha,'  'De- 
velopment of  Doctrine,'  also  articles  on  the  several  books  of 
Apocr.  ;  Drummond,  Jewish  Meysiah  and  Phito  JudcEJi^ ; 
Stanton,  The  Jewish  and  the  Christian  Messiah  ;  Deane,  The 
Book  of  Wisdom, ;  Charles,  Eschatology  ;  Paul  Volz,  Judische 
Eschatologie ;  Bousset,  Die  Religion  des  Judentitms  ;  Schiirer, 
GJ  PJ.  The  DB  articles  referred  to  contain  lists  of  books,  which 
therefore  need  not  be  repeated  here.        W.  F.  AdeNEY. 

APOCRYPHAL  GOSPELS.— See  Gospels  (Apoc- 
ryphal). 

APOSTLES.- 

Introduction. 

1.  The  first  disciples. 

2.  Beginning  of  our  Lord's  Galil:ean  ministry 

3.  Choice  of  the  Twelve. 

4.  Training  of  the  Apostles. 

Literature. 
Introduction. — It  is  proposed  to  treat  in  this 
article  the  chief  facts  relating  to  that  group  of  our 
Lord's  personal  disciples  known  to  us  by  the  name 
of  'apostles.'  The  sole  authorities  on  the  subject 
are  the  four  Gospels  and  the  first  chapter  of  the 
Acts.  The  remaining  books  of  the  NT  furnish  no 
information  as  to  the  relations  between  Jesus  and 
His  Apostles  during  His  ministry  on  earth  ;  and 
nothing  that  is  found  in  the  Apocryphal  Gospels 
can  be  regarded  as  historical. 

The  assvuiiption  so  often  made  that  the  Synoptics  possess  a 
greater  trustworthiness  than  the  Fourth  Gospel  is  baseless, 
and  its  baselessness  cannot  be  better  seen  than  in  the  case  of  the 
Apostles.  The  Apostles  of  the  Fourth  Gospel  are  the  Apostles 
of  the  first  three.  Their  character,  prejudices,  limitations, 
ambitions,  views,  sj'mpathies  are  the  same  in  the  four  Gospels. 
How  can  this  harmony  be  explained  unless  all  our  authorities 
draw  from  the  life  ?  But  more  than  this.  The  Fourth  Gospel 
contains  information  regarding  the  Twelve  peculiar  to  itself 
which,  properly  weighed,  enables  us  to  understand  much  that 
is  otherwise  perplexing  in  the  first  three.  How  can  this  famili- 
arity with  the  Apostles  be  accounted  for  if  the  writer  was  not 
himself  one  of  them?  What  is  the  alternative  hypothesis? 
That  the  writer  of  the  Fourth  Gospel,  with  the  first  three  before 
him,  was  able  to  form  so  true  and  complete  an  apprehension  of 
the  intelligence,  moral  condition,  modes  of  thought,  and  lan- 
guage of  the  Twelve  as  to  be  able  to  create  situations  where  he 
represents  them  as  speaking  and  acting  with  perfect  verisimil' 
tude,  while  all  the  time  he  was  simply  drawin  ''    ' 


but 


his  nnagina- 


I.    The  author  of  the  Fourth  Gospel  was  a  man  of  genm 
his  genius  was  religious,  not  intellectual  or  imaginativ 


APOSTLES 


The  achievement  attributed  to  him  was  wholly  beyond  his 
powers  or  the  powers  of  any  man  wlio  has  ever  lived.  The 
disciples  of  the  Fourth  Gospel  are  the  disciples  of  the  first  three  ; 
their  portraits  are  firm,  exact,  striking,  because  the  writer  knew 
them  personally. 

When  the  attention  of  a  reader  is  called  to  the 
numerous  occasions  on  whicli  the  Apostles  hgure 
in  the  Gospels,  he  might  feel  disposed  to  contend 
that  the  Apostles  are  so  prominent  in  the  Gospels 
because  they  are  their  ultimate  authors.  But  this 
supposition,  however  ingenious,  is  unsubstantial. 
Great  as  is  the  place  tilled  by  the  Apostles  in  the 
Gospels,  they  are  never  magnified ;  it  is  Jesus 
alone  who  is  magnified.  The  many  references 
made  to  the  Apostles  correspond  exactly  to  the 
position  they  held  ;  the  Gospels  are  so  much  occu- 
pied with  them  only  because  Jesus  Himself  was 
constantly  occupied  with  them,  not  the  least  of  the 
tasks  of  His  life  being  to  teach  and  train  them  to 
understand  His  mind  and  heart,  and  to  transmit 
to  others  a  correct  representation  of  what  He  was 
and  said  and  did. 

The  Gospel  of  St.  Mark  has  been  characterized  as  preeminently 
the  Gospel  of  the  disciples.  But  this  language  does  injustice 
to  the  rest  of  the  Gospels,  which  are  equally  Gospels  of  the  dis- 
ciples. A  judicious  reader  sees  at  once  that  the  Apostles  hold 
substantially  the  same  place  in  all  the  Gospels.  There  is  nothiir,' 
■    prove  that  one  of  the  Evangelists  took  a  deeper  interest  in  the 


Twelve  than  any  of  the  rest. 

1.  The  first  disciples. — It  is  clear  from  the  Go.'spels 
that  several  of  the  Apostles  had  been  on  the  ino.st 
intimate  terms  -n-ith  our  Lord  before  He  selected 
them  to  become  Apostles.  In  fact  the  most  promi- 
nent among  them  passed  through  two  stages  of 
relationship  to  our  Lord  before  they  were  chosen 
as  Apostles.  They  were  first  called  to  become  dis- 
ciples in  the  most  general  sense  of  the  term,  and 
thereafter  they  were  summoned  to  leave  their 
usual  occupations  and  to  become  the  personal  com- 
panions of  Jesus.  It  is  therefore  desirable  to  leani 
the  connexion  in  which  the  most  distinguished  of 
them  stood  to  Jesus  before  their  formal  appoint- 
ment to  the  apostolate. 

After  the  Temptation  our  Lord  returned  to 
Bethany  in  PenBa.  Whether  this  happened  by 
arrangement  betweeen  Himself  and  His  forerunner 
we  cannot  tell,  but  nothing  was  more  natural  than 
for  Him  to  go  thither.  The  Baptist  could  best 
fulfil  his  duty  if  He  were  by  his  side.  On  two 
occasions  John,  fixing  a  steadfast  gaze  on  our  Lord, 
said  in  the  hearing  of  some  of  his  disciples,  'Be- 
hold the  Lamb  of  i'.mV  (Jn  l=s-S6).  The  remark- 
able expression  doubtless  suggested  to  his  hearers 
that  this  was  the  Messiali.  Two  of  tliera  sought 
an  interview  vith  our  Lonl,  and  ere  they  quitted 
the  house  were  convinced  that  they  had  found  the 
Messiah.  Not  a  word  is  related  of  the  considera- 
tions which  brought  them  to  this  conclusion,  but 
the  explanation  is  to  be  found  partly  in  the  testi- 
mony of  the  Baptist,  partly  and  pre-eminently  in 
the  impression  produced  on  them  by  the  personality 
of  Jesus.  There  was  that  in  His  character,  aims, 
and  language  which  distinguished  Him  from  all 
other  men.  Hence  Andrew  and  Jolin,  the  two 
disciples  in  question,  had  no  doubt  tliat  the  ^lessiah 
stood  before  them  (v.-").  It  is  not  quite  clear 
whether  each  started  to  find  his  brother;  but 
Andrew,  at  anyrate,  brouglit  his  brother  Simon  to 
Jesus.  Reading  his  character  and  discerning  its 
possibilities,  Jesus  bestowed  on  him  the  name  by 
which  he  is  now  known  to  the  world  :  the  name 
Peter  (v.«).  Our  Lord,  for  reasons  unknown  to  us, 
had  determined  to  set  out  for  Galilee,  accompanied 
by  His  new  disciples.  On  starting.  He  called  Philij) 
to  follow  Him,  and  the  instant  obedience  renderetl 
suggests  that  Philii)  had  already  believed  that 
Jesus  was  the  Messiah,  probably  through  his  friends 
and  fellow-citizens  Andrew  and  Peter.  On  the 
way   Philip    encountered    hLs    friend    Nathanael, 


who  lived  in  the  village  of  Cana,  at  no  great  dis- 
tance from  his  own  home  at  Bethsaida,  and  informed 
liiiu  of  the  discovery  of  the  Messiah,  in  the  person 
of  Jesus  of  Jsazareth.  Nathanael  hesitated,  but 
he  came  and  saw  and  heard,  and  the  knowledge 
which  Jesus  displayed  of  his  character  and  of  his 
inmost  life  convinced  him  that  He  was  indeed  what 
Philip  had  declared  Him  to  be  (v.''^*-).  How  many 
of  these  disciples  accompanied  Jesus  to  Cana  and 
witnessed  His  first  miracle  (2'"-)  is  not  certain; 
possibly  the  majority,  if  not  all.     The  same  un- 


witnessed the  expulsion  of  the  traffickers  from  the 
temple,  heard  the  mysterious  words  spoken  regard- 
ing the  destruction  of  the  temple,  or  saw  the  many 
miracles  which  He  performed  in  the  capital  (v. "'''•), 
baptized  at  His  command  when  He  laboured  in 
Juda?a  in  the  vicinity  of  the  Baptist,  and  accom- 
panied Him  through  Samaria  on  His  return  to 
Galilee  (4"f-).  It  would  seem  as  if  thereafter  the 
disciples  returned  to  their  usual  occupations,  and 
our  Lord  retired  for  a  little  from  public  life. 

2.  Beginning  of  our  Lord's  Gcdilcean  ministry. — 
After  a  short  interval  our  Lord  resumed  His 
labours,  and  continued  them  \\-ithout  interruption 
until  His  death.  The  Baptist  had  just  been  im- 
prisoned (Mk  1"  and  |!),  and  He  seemed  to  regard  his 
imprisonment  as  a  call  to  attempt  more  than  He 
had  j"et  done.  So  long  as  the  Baptist  laboured, 
the  work  done  by  Jesus  does  not  seem  to  have 
differed  much  from  his.  Now  that  he  was  in 
prison,  our  Lord  proceeded  to  develop  a  ministry 
of  His  own.  This  new  type  of  ministry  was 
marked  by  a  change  of  residence  from  Nazareth  to 
Capernaum  (Mt  4'^).  He  wished  to  influence  as 
many  of  the  inhabitants  of  Galilee  as  He  could, 
and  there  was  no  better  centre  from  which  to 
approach  them  than  Capernaum.  The  town  was 
large,  and  was  near  many  others  of  the  same  char- 
acter. It  lay  on  several  great  roads,  and  was 
therefore  easily  reached  from  all  quarters.  The 
people  were  genuinely  Jewish,  and  not  given  to 
Gentile  tastes  or  customs.  No  more  suitable  posi- 
tion from  which  to  command  Galilee  could  have 
been  chosen.  It  was  soon  after  He  settled  in 
Capernaum  that  He  renewed  His  summons  to  four 
of  the  men  whom  He  had  already  chosen  as  His 
disciples.  Walking  along  the  sliore  of  the  Sea  of 
Galilee,  He  saw  the  brothers  Simon  and  Andrew, 
who  were  fishermen,  engaged  in  casting  their  net. 
In  words  the  significance  of  which  they  could  not 
fail  to  discern.  He  commanded  them  to  follow  Him 
and  become  fishers  of  men.  Proceeding  a  little 
farther.  He  found  James  with  his  brother  John 
repairing  their  nets,  and  addressed  to  tlieni  the 
same  command.  They,  like  Peter  and  Andrew, 
instantly  obeyed  (Mk  V'-'^).  It  is  clear  that  our 
Lord  had  a  definite  aim  in  calling  these  four  dis- 
ciples. Tlie  duty  to  which  He  now  invited  them 
was  an  advance  on  their  former  relationship. 
They  were  to  be  no  longer  fisliermen.  They  must 
exchange  theii'  former  calling  for  a  new  one.  And 
the  nature  of  that  new  calling  was  not  wholly 
obscure.  The  allusion  to  the  occupation  which 
they  were  bidden  to  leave  illustrated  the  character 
of  the  labours  to  which  they  were  invited.  They 
were  to  capture  men  instead  of  fish.  Not  one  of 
the  four  could  fail  to  perceive  that  they  were  to 
be  employed  continuously  in  the  service  of  Jesus. 
The  call  would  till  them  with  the  less  surprise 
because  they  had  already  served  an  apprenticeship 
to  Jesus,  when  they  baptized  in  obedience  to  His 
conuiiands.  It  need  not  be  inferred  that  Jesus 
intended  to  send  the  four  immediately  on  a  special 
mission.  No  particular  time  is  specified  in  His 
command ;  and  though  St.  Luke  (o'")  marks  the 


capture  of  men  as  beg 


with   the  moment 


AfOSTLES 


APOSTLES 


103 


of  the  call,  this  can  only  mean  that  their  new 
career  began  as  soon  as  they  obeyed  the  call  ad- 
dressed to  them.  Only  one  other  call  of  the  same 
kind  is  related  in  the  Gospels,  that  of  Levi  or 
Matthew  (Mk  2'i',  Mt  9").  It,  too,  occurred  in 
Capernaum.  To  the  four  fishermen  a  tax-gatherer 
was  added.  Capernaum  was  the  seat  of  a  custom- 
house, and  the  collector  of  customs,  liCvi  by  name, 
was  called  precisely  as  the  two  pairs  of  brothers 
had  been.  What  previous  acquaintance  existed 
between  Matthew  and  our  Lord,  what  special 
fjualities  commended  him  we  cannot  tell ;  but  the 
instant  obedience  he  rendered  to  so  extraordinary 
a  command,  and  the  feast  which  he  gave  in  our 
Lord's  honour  as  he  bade  farewell  to  his  fellow- 
officials,  suggest  that  they  had  known  one  another 
for  some  time.  The  interval  which  separated  the 
call  of  Matthew  from  the  call  of  the  four  cannot 
be  ascertained,  but  as  it  is  unlikely  that  he  was  a 
disciple  of  the  Baptist,  and  as  it  is  probable  that 
he  was  not  brought  into  contact  with  our  Lord  till 
He  settled  in  Capernaum,  some  little  time  must 
have  elapsed  between  his  first  knowledge  of  our 
Lord  and  his  call.  He  could  hardly  have  been 
with  Jesus  from  the  outset  of  His  career  in  Galilee. 

3.  Choice  of  the  Twelve.— \t  might  have  been 
supposed  that  our  Lord  would  continue  as  He  had 
begun,  and  summon  disciple  after  disciple  to  His 
side  until  He  had  obtained  the  number  He  required 
for  His  purpose.  But  this  was  not  to  be.  He  had 
detei-mined  to  make  a  formal  selection  of  a  definite 
number  from  the  body  of  His  disciples  (Mk  3'^  Lk 
6").  The  importance  of  the  step  He  was  about  to 
take  is  shown  by  the  fact  that  He  spent  the  pre- 
ceding night  in  prayer  (Lk  6'-),  doubtless  seeking  to 
learn  His  Father's  will  regarding  the  intention  He 
had  formed  and  the  mode  in  which  it  was  to  be 
accomplished.  One  of  the  critical  hours  of  His  life 
was  before  Him.  The  nature  of  the  selection  He 
was  about  to  make  was  of  supreme  consequence.  A 
serious  mistake  would  be  followed  by  calamitous 
results.  No  wonder  then  that  He  sought  specific 
guidance.  He  may  even  have  gone  over  the  names 
of  all  whom  He  judged  competent,  and  have  made 
His  final  choice. 

The  Gospels  have  not  preserved  any  statement 
by  our  Lord  Himself  as  to  His  aim  in  .selecting  a 
special  group  of  disciples.  That  aim  can  be  judged 
of  only  by  the  issue,  for  it  is  certain  that  what  the 
Apostles  proved  to  be,  was  what  Jesus  designed 
they  should  become.  An  account,  indeed,  is  found 
in  St.  Mark's  Gospel  (3"),  according  to  which  the 
purpose  of  our  Lord  in  choosing  tliem  was  that  they 
might  be  with  Him  and  that  He  might  send  them 
forth  to  announce  the  approach  of  the  Kingdom  of 
God,  endowed  with  the  power  to  heal  and  to  exor- 
cize. That  this  is  a  correct  description  so  far  as  it 
goes  cannot  be  doubted,  but  it  cannot  be  said  to 
embrace  the  full  scope  of  our  Lord's  purpose.  It 
defines  His  immediate  rather  than  His  ultimate 
end.  Its  horizon  is  that  of  the  first  journey  on 
which  the  Apostles  were  sent,  not  that  world-wide 
commission  afterwards  committed  to  them.  Hence 
when  we  speak  of  the  reasons  which  induced  our 
Lord  to  select  the  Twelve,  we  must  look  to  the 
work  actually  entrusted  to    them.      That   work 


cannot  be  better  described  than  by  the  words  used 
by  our  Lord  Himself  to  the  Twelve  on  the  eve  of 
His  death.  He  had  been  the  envoy  of  the  Father  to 
earth.  They  were  to  be  His  envoys  on  earth.  As 
He  had  interpreted  the  Father  to  men,  so  were 
they  to  interpret  Him  to  men.  Their  chief,  their 
supreme  duty,  was  to  bear  witness  to  Him  :  to 
teach  the  world  how  He  lived,  what  He  said,  what 
He  wrought  (Jn  17'«,  Ac  1»). 

A  comparison  has  often  been  drawn  between  the  disciples  of 
Plato  or  of  the  Pharisees  and  the  disciples  of  Jesus.    And  such 
"ot  without  auggestiveness.    But  a  sagacious 


mind  discerns  that  the  apostolate  of  Jesus  Christ  is  a  unique 
institution.  The  Apostles  differ  from,  far  more  than  they  agree 
with,  the  disciples  of  any  thinker  or  teacher.  They  stand  by 
themselves,  devoted  to  the  performance  of  an  unexampled  task. 
No  one  but  Jesus  could  have  conceived  such  a  task  ;  the 
Apostles  were  the  fit  instruments  for  its  accompUshment. 

It  is  a  noteworthy  circumstance  that  few  writers 
have  spent  any  time  in  describing  the  actual  selec- 
tion of  the  Twelve.  The  silence  of  the  Gospels  on 
this  point  is  only  what  was  to  be  expected,  but  it  is 
surprising  that  those  writers  of  our  Lord's  life  who 
have  given  the  freest  rein  to  their  imagination  in 
endeavouring  to  reproduce  the  .scenes  of  His  career, 
have  passed  this  event  over  as  if  it  afforded  no 
o))portunity  for  their  skill.  Yet  what  materials 
lay  ready  to  their  hand  !  What  were  the  senti- 
ments with  which  our  Lord  addressed  Himself 
to  the  task?  What  was  His  appearance  as  He 
stood  on  the  mountain  side  and  called  His  fol- 
lowers to  Him  ?  How  did  these  followers  feel  as 
they  perceived  that  He  was  about  to  make  a  choice 
among  them  ?  Was  there  excitement  among  the 
crowd  ?  Was  there  strong  desire  on  the  part  of 
many  to  be  chosen  ?  Was  there  any  discus.sion  as 
to  the  principles  He  followed  in  the  choice,  or  did 
reverence  prevent  all  debate?  Was  there  much 
disappointment  when  the  number  was  completed  ? 
AVas  there  surprise  at  the  persons  named?  Not 
less  instructive  would  be  some  knowledge  of  the 
sentiments  of  the  Apostles  when  they  stood  to- 
gether for  the  first  time  in  the  presence  of  our  Lord. 
What  were  their  thoughts  ?  Were  they  filled  with 
exultation  ?  Did  they  infer  that  the  Kingdom  of 
God  would  immediately  appear  ?  Did  they  antici- 
pate a  brilliant  future  for  themselves  ?  Or  were 
tliere  those  among  them  who  retlectetl  with 
humility  on  their  unfitness  to  be  the  generals  and 
statesmen  of  the  new  Kingdom  ?  Did  it  occur  to 
even  one  of  them  that  the  choice  just  made  was 
a  fresh  disclosure  of  the  view  taken  by  Jesus  of 
the  Kingdom  of  God  and  of  the  means  by  which 
it  was  to  be  extended  ? 

Who  now  were  the  objects  of  our  Lord's  choice  ? 
With  some  of  them  we  are  already  acquainted. 
Simon,  Andrew,  James,  John,  Philip,  and  Levi  or 
Matthew  are  already  known  to  us.  So  too  possibly 
is  Bartholomew  (wh.  see).  Bartholomew  is  not  a 
proper  name,  but  means  simply  'son  of  Tolmai,'  and 
there  is  much  probability  in  the  opinion  that  he  is  to 
be.identified  with  Nathanael.  These  seven  disciples 
our  Lord  must  have  known  for  some  time.  The 
remaining  five  names — Thomas,  James  the  son  of 
Alphseus,  Simon  the  Zealot,  Judas  or  LebbiEus 
or  rhaddreus,  and  Judas  Iscariot  are  new.  How 
long  they  had  been  known  to  Jesus  is  not  told  us  ; 
perhaps  some  of  them  had  been  in  His  company 
for  several  months.  On  the  other  hand,  it  is  pos- 
sible that  He  may  have  chosen  some  of  the  Twelve 
without  much  if  any  personal  knowledge,  relying 
on  that  power  to  read  the  heart  which  He  un- 
doubtedly possessed. 

Who  the  Alphaeua  was  of  whom  James  was  a  son  (Mk  318) 
we  cannot  teU.  There  is  no  reason  except  the  similarity  of 
name  for  connecting  him  with  the  father  of  Levi ;  and  the 
assumption  that  he  is  the  same  person  as  Clopas  is  gratuitous. 
The  force  of  the  epithet  CananEBan  is  not  free  from  doubt ; 
the  most  likely  meaning  is  that  of  zealot.  But  the  sense  of 
*  zealot '  in  turn  is  not  perfectly  clear.  It  may  denote  the 
political  party  known  by  that  name  ;  it  may,  again,  simply 
designate  unusual  devotion  to  a  cause.  Reflexion  shows  that 
this  latter  view  has  but  scanty  recommendation,  and  that  the 
former  has  nearly  everything  in  its  favour.  The  Apostle  who 
bears  a  triple  name  is  commonly  known  as  Jude.  That  there 
were  two  Judes  among  the  Apostles  is  plain  from  the  language 
of  Jn  \i'^~,  where  'Judas  not  Iscariot'  is  mentioned.  In  two 
of  the  lists  of  the  Apostles,  those  in  l.uke  (1>16)  and  Acts  (l"),  he 
is  described  as  '  Judas  of  James '  ;  that  is  almost  certainly  Judas 
the  son  not  the  brother  of  Jamts.  lint  who  this  James  was  is 
quite  uncertain.  In  Mt  VP  and  Mk  ai^^  this  Judas  is  called 
ThaddsBUS,  or,  according  to  the  >\'estern  text,  LebbcBus ; 
and  he  wa.s  probably  known  indilTerently  a.s  Judas  or  .as  Thad- 


Thee 

Most  connuonly  it  is 
signifying  '  man  of  Kerioth,' 


I  Iscario 


gc-ographi 


104 


APOSTLES 


APOSTLES 


ated  is  keeiiU  ciiua'-^cj  soino  iiH<in^'  it  t  >  tin  f  i^t  of  the 
Dead  Sea  and  oth<  i  ^       f  l  (1     r  T  i  f  t  T     \   i    i ) 

Attempts  ha^e    i'  '    i  t  tli 

Apostles  were  i  J  \ 

sought  for  trai .  ^  II 

motives  very  dill,  r         i  i  i    I    i  1   uln 

would  have  been  tiu  l-\^t  jm^nn  to  illow  ili^  '-tit.tion  uf  an 
Apostle  to  he  deteruiini.l  hi  the  ties  ol  hiuud  btill  there  is  no 
reason  why  relatnes  of  our  Ijord  should  not  ha\e  beenaraonu 
the  Apostles  But  whit  e\  idence  is  there  to  thiseflect '  It  has 
been  conjectured  that  James  and  John  w  ere  cousins  of  our  Lord, 
Mary  and  Salome  heing  listers  This,  is,  one  possible  mterpreta 
tion  and  b>  no  means  thp  least  satisfactor\  of  the  well  known 
verse  in  St.  John  (1!)25)  „  hich  mentions  the  w  omen  at  the  cross 
«'hether  the  sUence  of  Sinpture  rigirding  the  relationship  can 
outweigh  the  fitness  of  this  interpretation  will  be  answered 
variously,  .\  et  a  reader  w  ill  allow  for  the  possibility  that  James 
and  John  w  ere  our  Lord's  cousins.  But  it  he  tolerate  this  view 
he  will  reject  without  hesitation  the  opinion  once  so  common, 
that  several  of  our  Lord's  brothers  were  among  the  Apostles. 
Practically  nothing  can  be  brought  forward  in  support  of  this 
jhypothesis  ;  for  who  can  attach  any  value  to  the  fact  that  three 
of  the  Apostles  bore  the  same  names  as  three  of  our  Lord's 
brothers,  when  it  is  known  that  these  names  were  among  the 
most  common  in  the  land?  The  statement  made  in  Jn  "5  that 
six  months  before  the  Crucifixion  none  of  our  Lord's  brothers 
believed  on  Him  is  wholly  inconsistent  with  the  view  that  two 
or  even  three  of  them  were  Apostles.  Scarcely  less  decisive  is 
the  distinction  traced  in  the  Acts  between  the  brothers  of  Jesus 
and  the  Ajxistles  (!»).  Much  ingenuity  and  labour  have  been 
expended  in  the  endeavour  to  prove  that  James  the  son  of 
Alphaeus  was  a  cousin  of  our  Lord,  his  father  being  a  brother 
of  Joseph.  But  the  steps  by  which  this  identification  is  made 
are  numerous  and  all  open  to  challenge,  so  that  no  gain  can 
arise  from  an  examination  of  the  question.  See  art.  Brethren 
OF  THE  Lord. 

Four  lists  of  the  Apostles  are  contained  in  tlie 
NT,  one  in  each  of  the  Synoptics  and  one  in  the 
Acts  (Mt  10=-'',  Mk  3i«-i9,  Lk  6"'«,  Ac  1'^).  A  care- 
ful examination  of  these  lists  slwws  that  each  of 
them  consists  of  three  groups  of  quaternions,  and 
that  in  each  group  the  same  person  is  mentioned 
first.  The  first  group  contains  the  names  of  Peter, 
James,  John,  and  Andrew.  The  second  is  made 
up  of  Philip,  Nathanael,  Thomas,  and  Matthew. 
The  third  is  formed  of  James  the  son  of  Alplia>us, 
Simon  the  Zealot,  Judas  or  Thaddceus,  and  Judas 
Iscariot.  Is  this  arrangement  due  to  accident,  or 
does  it  rest  on  a  perception  of  the  historical  im- 
portance of  the  disciples  at  the  time  at  wliich  it 
was  drawn  up  ?  The  places  given  to  Peter  and 
Judas  and  the  contents  uf  the  different  groups 
suggest  that  there  is  here  an  indication  of  the  view 
taken  of  the  Apostles  in  the  early  Church.  By 
wliom  the  catalogues  were  framed  is  unknown,  but 
their  value  as  historical  witnesses  is  great.  Tliey 
form,  as  it  were,  a  table  of  jjrecedence  dating  from 
the  earliest  times,  and  embodying  the  verdict  it 
may  be  of  tlie  A])ostles  themselves,  or  at  least  of 
those  of  them  wIkp  MiiviMd  wlien  they  were  pre- 
pared. In  all  tin  li-l>  t  lir  iiMiiie  of  Peter  occupies 
the  first  place.  St.  Miiltlm^'  (10=)  writes:  'Now 
the  names  of  the  Iwelve  apo.stles  are  these  ;  the 
first,  Simon.'  In  what  sen.se  is  this  'first'  to  l^- 
understood  ?  It  might  refer  to  the  fact  that  Petri 
was  the  first  of  the  Apostles  to  be  chosen.  This  im- 
perfectly credible,  but  the  fact  that  the  order  oi 


the  names  is  not  uniform   in  the  list.'- 


may 


regarded  as  showing  that  the  memory  of  the  order 
in  which  the  Twelve  were  called  was  not  preserved 
in  the  Church.  But  why  was  Peter  tlie  ifirst 
called  ?  Must  not  an  explanation  of  this  fact  be 
sought  ?  And  is  it  not  to  be  found  in  the  circum- 
stance that  he  Wiis  the  foremost  of  the  Apostles, 
their  leader,  their  sjHjkesman?  Primacy  in  the 
sense  of  jurisdiction  or  authority  over  his  fellow. 
Apostles  Peter  never  received  and  ntver  exercised. 
His  position  is  that  of  the  foremost  among  equals  ; 
a  position  due  not  to  any  formal  or officialappoin t 
ment,  but  to  the  ardour  and  force  of  his  nature. 

What  kind  of  men  were  the  Apostles?  WIkii 
was  their  character,  education,  social  rank,  ability 
age?  The  Apostles  were  in  an  eminent  sen- 
religious  men.  The  tie  which  bound  them  to  Ji->n 
was  a  religious  tie.  It  was  impossible  for  any  ]..  i 
6on   to  become  a  follower  of  Jesus   who   did  iiui 


liLln'\e  m  obedience  to  the  will  of  God  as  tlie  first 
lit  ill  iliilii  s  The  Apostles  were  men  who  desired 
t'l  lnllil  ihr  demands  of  the  law  of  God.  Their 
luii-^wo.  lii_;h;  their  morals  were  pure  ;  whatever 
tlau  i^aiii.ince,  misconceptions,  defects,  they  were 
men  ot  iiiteguty,  justice,  and  mercy ;  diligent, 
candid,  honest,  pious,  God-fearing.  None  of  the 
Apostles  had  received  more  than  a  common  educa- 
tion. The  lange  of  their  knowledge  was  that  of 
most  of  their  fellow-countrymen.  But  they  were 
in  no  sense  illiterate.  It  is  probable  that  all  of 
them  could  read  and  write.  Most  if  not  all  of 
them  spoke  Aramaic  and  Greek.  Their  minds  had 
been  quickened  and  nourished  by  the  services  in 
the  Synagogue.  The  education  that  springs  from 
the  truest  knowledge  of  God  and  of  man  was  theirs. 
And  tlie  discipline  of  their  daily  lives  had  rendered 
them  alert,  considerate,  patient,  energetic. 

The  Apostles  without  exception  belonged  to  the 
working  classes  as  they  would  be  called  to-day. 
There  was  no  man  of  rank  or  distinction  or  of 
social  consideration  among  them.  Four  of  them, 
we  know,  were  fishermen.  One  of  them  was  a  col- 
lector of  taxes.  The  rest  belonged  to  the  same 
rank  in  life,  and  followed  similar  occupations.  All 
of  them  knew  what  it  was  to  labour  to  maintain 
themselves ;  they  were  familiar  with  life  as  it  pre- 
sents itself  to  the  great  body  of  mankind.  There 
is  no  evidence  that  any  of  the  Apostles  was  speci- 
ally distinguished  by  intellectual  force.  There 
was  no  man  of  genius  among  them  :  no  original 
thinker ;  no  man  dowered  witli  the  imaginative 
faculty ;  no  man  of  great  powers  of  organization. 
It  does  not  appear  that  any  of  them  had  an  un- 
usually impressive  or  attractive  personality.  As 
far  as  can  be  ascertained,  they  ■were  all  young  men, 
about  the  same  age  as,  or  younger  than,  our  Lord 
Himself.  No  man  of  middle  life,  no  grey  head  was 
included  in  the  circle.  Variety  of  taste,  temper, 
mode  of  life  found  full  expression  among  the 
Apostles.  No  one  was  the  same  as  another.  Their 
experience  of  life  had  differed.  Their  anticipations 
of  the  future  differed.  Their  habits  of  thought 
and  action  differed.  Perhaps  the  only  common 
elements  were  their  piety  and  their  devotion  to 
Jesus.  Such  then  were  the  Apostles.  They  were 
pious  men  belonging  to  the  people,  full  of  the  plain 
.sense  and  judgment  which  mark  the  common  man  : 
slow  to  learn,  but  teachable  ;  free  from  social  pre- 
judices ;  untrammelled  by  any  fixed  systems  of 
thought ;  with  keen  eyes  for  character ;  anxious  to 
win  the  favour  of  Jesus. 

The  most  discordant  criticisms  have  been  passed  on  the  choice 
of  the  Apostles,  many  of  these  betraying  a  complete  failure  to 
,/ra=ii  tho  cirf  nnistances  and  facts  of  the  case.  The  vindication 
I  111-  \M-'iniu  sliown  in  the  selection  is  the  future  career  and 
I  ,1  -  Ml  tlie  Twelve.  In  Judging  it  is  necessary  to  bear 
i  I  Ml  iii:it<Tialsat  our  Lord's  command  and  the  purposes 
V  ill  II  III  \\M  in  view.  The  man  who  realizes  these  has  no 
ui.ln  ulu  111  itppreciating  and  admiring  the  sagacity  exhibited 
li\|  Jcsils.  Here,  too,  he  will  perceive  that  originality  which 
marks  His  entire  career.  The  Twelve  would  never  have  chosen 
one  another.     Had  the  selection  been  left  to  them  individually 


but  Jesus  Himself  would 
ppear,  of  the  motives  by 
■"  suppose  that 


itantly  swayed. 

ersion  to  intellect,  wealth,  ranK,  genius,  ex- 
lives,  or  that  He  preferred  fisliermen  to 
and  tax-collectors  to  priests.     But  He  was  equally  free 


But  He  wa 
•  to  believe  that  the  i 
being  supported  by  the  highe 


or  to  any  two  or  tnree  among  them,  the  persons  included  would 
have  been  very  different.    Nobody 
have  acted  in  disregard,  as  it  would 
which  men  are  C( 
our  Lord  had  any 

lawy 

from  the  bias  which  leads 

any  movement  depends  on 

classes,  whether  of  intellect 

fitriesa  or  e.iixu  ity  for  the  special  objects  He  had  in  view.    The 

nn'iii'i- 'f  -Hihf-rf-Titi;  nt  His  command  as  Apostles  was  limited. 

Ill    I  I        I      I  II,   :^-  I'l.liscover  men  who  could  be  taught  and 

I  His  character,  aims,  and  labours,  who 

II  llieir  fellows,  who  could  inform  them 

I II I  as  to  the  deeds  ot  mercy  and  power 

I  hi    liefects  and  the  limitations  ot  the 

I  1,11'  r  Known  to  our  Lord  than  they  are  to  us 

"1  it   He  called  them  despi 


vithin   His 


APOSTLES 


APOSTLES 


105 


ment  and  intemperate  zeal  were  all  before  His  eyes ;  neverthe- 
less He  summoned  them  to  be  His  Apostles  in  the  confidence 
that  He  could  make  them  become  the  very  men  best  fitted  to 
discharge  the  duties  connected  with  the  establishment  of  the 
Kingdom  of  God.  He  had  no  false  anticipations  as  to  the  kind 
of  men  the  Twelve  would  prove  :  He  cliose  them  knowing  what 
they  were  and  what  they  would  become. 

The  Apostles  were  fwchc  in  number.  The 
number  was  intended  to  he  significant.  Its  im- 
port could  not  have  been  lost  on  the  Twelve  them- 
selves when  they  were  lirst  called,  or  on  the  multi- 
tude who  witnessed  their  election.  Our  Lord  was 
evidently  thinking  of  the  twelve  tribes  of  Israel. 
Though  ten  of  the  tribes  had  largely  disappeared, 
Israel  still  consisted  ideally  of  twelve  tribes,  and 
the  mission  of  the  Messiah  was  to  be  to  all  the 
tribes  of  the  nation.  Hence  the  fitness  of  the 
number  chosen  by  our  Lord.  There  was  one 
Apostle  for  each  tribe.  Nor  should  it  be  over- 
looked Itliat  the  employment  of  this  number  was  a 
fresh  claim  on  the  part  of  Jesus  to  be  the  Messiah. 
His  discijjles  would  argue  thus :  Who  but  the 
Messiah  could  venture  to  create  a  body  or  group 
of  twelve  disciples  only?  Nobody  had  done  so 
before,  no  prophet,  not  even  the  Baptist.  Jesus 
then  must  be  the  Messiah. 

It  has  been  suggested  that  the  number  twelve  was,  so  to 
speak,  accidental ;  that  our  Lord  did  not  choose  a  definite  num- 
ber of  disciples,  but  that  He  allowed  all  who  desired  to  do  so  to 
remain  beside  Himself.  The  alleged  choice  of  the  Twelve  is  pro- 
nounced not  historical.  They  chose 'our  Lord,  not  He  them. 
The  Twelve  is  but  a  name  for  His  closest  and  most  devoted 
adherents.  The  only  arguments  advanced  for  this  view  are  the 
silence  of  the  Gospel  of  St.  Matthew  as  to  the  selection  of  the 
Twelve,  and  the  omission  of  the  list  of  the  Twelve  from  the 
Gospel  of  St.  John.  But  St.  Matthew  furnishes  a  list  of  the 
Twelve,  and  therefore  presupposes  their  selection.  He  assumes 
as  self-evident  that  they  had  been  appointed  by  our  Lord.  St. 
John  not  less  than  St.  Matthew  takes  the  selection  of  the  Twelve 
(867. 70)  tts  known,  and  even  makes  our  Lord  refer  to  His  ap- 
pointment of  them  (15^6).  Xo  assert  that  the  Twelve  attached 
themselves  to  our  Lord  gradually  and  spontaneously  is  to  mis- 
read the  tenor  of  the  statements  regarding  them. 

The  title  'Apostle'  and  its  equivalents. — It  is 
expressly  stated  that  the  Twelve  received  from 
our  Lord  the  title  'ajjostles';  but  it  is  doubtful 
whether  the  title  was  bestowed  when  they  were 
chosen,  and  its  exact  sense  has  always  been  a 
subject  of  debate.  It  will  be  expedient  at  this 
point  to  examine  tlie  designations  borne  by  the 
Apostles,  because  they  are  not  called  uniformly 
by  one  name. 

The  most  common  of  all  the  appellations  be- 
stowed on  them  in  the  Gospels  is  that  of  disciples. 
This  usage  is  as  characteristic  of  the  Fourth 
Gospel  as  of  the  Synoptics.  And  it  is  noteworthy 
that  in  none  of  the  Gospels  are  the  twelve  disciples 
sharply  discriminated  from  the  other  disciples  of 
our  Lord.  They  are  called  '  the  disciples  of  Jesus,' 
'his  disciples,'  'the  disciples,'  but  the  context 
alone  reveals  whether  the  writer  is  speaking  of 
a  limited  group  or  of  the  disciples  of  our  Lord  in 
general. 

A  peculiar  usage  appears  in  the  Gospel  of  St.  John.  There 
the  title  is  applied  to  those  who  first  attached  themselves  to  our 
Lord.  'The  disciples'  form  a  body  or  class  bv  themselves  long 
before  the  Apostles  are  chosen.  From  the  narrative  it  looks  as 
y  person  belonged  to  this  group  who  was  not  at  a  later  stage 
uded "--  "  -  '^"'  ■  • 


1  among  the  Apostlei 


r'  any  means 


The  adoption  of  the  term  'disciples'  to  denote 
the  followers  of  our  Lord  requires  no  explanation. 
The  primary  sense  of  the  word  indicates  the  rela- 
tion of  a  pupil  to  his  teacher,  and  the  designation 
was  therefore  the  most  natural  and  appropriate 
which  could  be  employed. 

The  Twelve.  This  phrase  explains  itself.  As 
soon  as  our  Lord  had  selected  a  specific  number  of 
persons  for  a  definite  end,  it  was  to  be  expected 
that  they  should  be  called  by  the  number  which 
they  formed.  They  were  twelve,  and  were  accord- 
ingly known  as  'the  Twelve.'  It  is  doubtful 
whether  it  is  proper  to  supply  such  a  substantive 


as  'disciples'  or  'apostles.'  There  is  authority  in 
the  NT  for  the  use  of  both  of  these  phrases,  but  it 
does  not  follow  that  the  name  first  given  to  this 
inmost  circle  of  our  Lord's  adherents  was  'the 
twelve  disciples'  or  'the  twelve  apostles'  rather 
than  'the  Twelve.'  A  time  came  when  all  three 
designations  were  current.  St.  Matthew  mentions 
'the  Twelve'  four  times  (lO'^  26'-'- =»•  *"),  St.  Mark 
nine  times  (4i»  6'  9^^  10=^  11"  14"-  "•  =»• «),  St.  Luke 
six  times  (8'  O'-'^  18^'  22»-"),  and  St.  John  four 
times  {QO^■■">■■'l  20=«).  St.  Matthew  speaks  four 
times  (10'  ll'  20"  26-")  of  'the  twelve  disciples,' 
but  he  stands  alone  in  his  use  of  this  description. 
It  is  worth  while  to  observe  that  after  the  death 
of  Judas  the  phrase  '  the  Eleven '  was  employed 
jirecisely  as  '  the  Twelve '  had  been.  It  is  found 
absolutely  in  Lk  24"  ;  it  is  found  with  the  substan- 
tive 'disciples' in  Mt  28'",  and  with  the  substan- 
tive '  apostles'  in  Ac  P". 

The  word  diricrroXos  occurs  ten  times  in  the 
fiospels.  In  the  Gosjjel  of  St.  John  it  is  used  only 
in  its  etymological  sense  of  a  person  sent  forth 
(13"^);  in  the  other  three  Gospels  it  refers  to  the 
twelve  disciples  of  our  Lord.  But  there  is  some 
doubt  as  to  the  meaning  it  bears  in  each  of 
these  Gospels.  St.  Matthew  employs  it  once  only 
—in  the  passage  already  quoted :  '  The  names  of 
the  twelve  apostles  are  these '  (10-).  This  language 
is  used  to  introduce  the  list  of  the  Apostles,  to- 
gether with  the  charge  addressed  to  them.  The 
term  may  be  understood  here  in  either  of  two 
senses:  it  may  designate  the  Twelve  as  sent  out 
on  one  special  mis.sion  of  evangelization,  or  it  may 
bear  the  meaning  which  it  has  in  Christendom 
to-day.  A  decision  between  these  senses  is  hardly 
possible  in  the  case  of  St.  Matthew's  Gospel.  It  is 
otherwise  with  the  Gospel  of  St.  Mark.  Here  the 
term  is  employed  twice  (3'*  6'°),  and  apparently  in 
both  instances  only  with  regard  to  the  particular 
missionary  tour  or  journey  on  which  they  were 
about  to  enter.  The  use  of  the  term  in  St.  Luke 
is  noteworthy.  It  occurs  six  times.  Once  (11^') 
it  is  possibly  used  in  its  etymological  meaning  of 
messenger ;  in  two  other  places  (6"  9'")  it  may  be 
used  to  designate  the  special  mission  on  which  the 
Twelve  were  first  sent ;  but  in  the  remaining  three 
( 175  22'''  24'")  it  is  employed  to  designate  the  Twelve 
in  their  capacity  as  the  representatives  of  Jesus, 
the  sense  which  it  commonly  bears  in  the  Acts. 

It  is  unnecessary  for  our  present  purpose  to 
enter  on  the  history  of  the  word  '  apostle '  in 
Greek.  That  the  word  was  in  use  in  NT  times  in 
its  etymological  sense  of  messenger  is  generally 
allowed.  This  fact  is  confirmed  by  the  NT  itself. 
Our  Lord,  in  speaking  to  His  disciples  on  the 
night  of  the  betrayal,  declared  that  the  person 
sent  (apostle)  is  not  greater  than  he  that  sent  him 
(Jn  13"").  Again  when  our  Lord  is  designated  in 
He  3'  as  'the  apostle  and  high  priest  of  our 
confession,'  the  reference  is  probably  to  His  own 
description  of  Himself  as  'the  sent  of  God'  (Jn 
17'*).  There  is  then  clear  evidence  that  the  word 
was  current  in  our  Lord's  time  in  its  sense  of 
messenger,  delegate,  envoy.  Was  it  also  in  use  in 
a  technical  sense  to  designate  those  who  were 
despatched  from  the  mother  city  by  the  rulers  of 
the  race  on  any  foreign  mission,  especially  such  as 
were  charged  with  collecting  the  tribute  paid  to 
the  temple  service  ?  (Lightfoot,  Gal.  93).  And  was 
it  this  usage  which  suggested  to  our  Lord  His  own 
employment  of  the  term  ?  There  is  no  evidence  to 
show  that  the  term  was  current  in  this  technical 
sense  before  the  Gospels  were  written.  Besides, 
even  though  it  had  been  in  existence,  it  is  doubtful 
whether  our  Lord  would  have  employed  a  term 
which  had  already  in  the  minds  of  His  hearers 
distinct  associations  of  its  own.  The  absence  of 
such  associations  would  recommend  a  term  to  Him- 


It  was  the  very  simplicity  and  directness  of  the 
expression  '  apostle '  which  won  for  it  the  favour  of 
our  Lord.  The  Twelve  were  simply  to  be  His 
messengers  or  envoys.  The  analogy  between  His 
o^vn  case  and  that  of  the  men  He  had  selected  was 
always  present  to  His  mind.  He  had  been  sent  by 
the  Father :  they  were  to  be  sent  by  Himself.  A 
technical  term  could  only  have  served  to  bewilder 
the  Twelve  and  lead  them  to  misconceive  the  object 
of  their  mission.  What  was  necessary  for  our 
Lord's  purpose  was  a  word  wliich  set  forth  simply 
and  aptly  the  relations  of  the  Twelve  to  Himself, 
and  for  this  there  was  no  more  suitable  terra  than 
'messenger,'  'envoy.'  The  term  'apostle'  then 
was  not  suggested  to  our  I,ord  by  its  currency  as 
a  technical  expression.  He  chose  a  common  word 
and  adapted  it  to  His  own  purpose.  He  wished  to 
give  the  most  expressive  title  to  the  men  whom 
He  had  chosen,  and  none  seemed  to  Him  .so  suit- 
able as  the  word  'sent.'  It  reminded  them  per- 
petually that  they  were  men  with  a  mission. 

It  is  generally  held  that  the  name  ' apostles '  was  p\en  to 
the  Twelve  on  the  occasion  of  their  call.  The  language  of  St. 
Luke  (613)  docs  not  compel  us  to  adopt  Ithis  conclusion,  nor 
is  that 'of  St.  Mark  (3")  decisive  on  the  point.*  The  state- 
ments in  both  Gospels  are  consistent  alike  with  the  view 
that  the  Apostles  were  so  named  when  they  were  first  called, 
and  with  the  view  that  this  title  was  bestowed  on  them  at  a 
Inter  d.-ite.  The  other  considerations  to  which  appeal  may  be 
made  tell  in  opposite  directions.  It  may  be  urgred  that  the  im- 
pression left  on  the  mind  of  an  ordinary  reader  is  that  the 
Apostles  received  their  name  at  the  time  of  their  call,  but  it 
does  not  follow  that  this  impression  is  correct.  For  it  is  said  in  the 
same  context  that  our  Lord  gave  to  Simon  the  name  Peter,  and 
we  know  that  this  name  was  given  to  him  long  before  he  became 
an  Apostle.  This  proves  that  the  statements  made  in  connexion 
with  the  appointment  of  the  Twelve  must  not  be  pressed  as  if 
they  referred  to  that  event  exclusively.  Again,  it  may  be  con- 
tended with  much  propriety  that  there  was  a  special  fitness  in 
our  Lord  assigning  a  new  name  to  the  men  whom  He  had  set 
apart  for  a  new  task.  The  new  relation  might  well  be  desig- 
nated by  a  new  name.  But  it  may  be  pointed  out  in  reply  that 
an  interval  elapsed  between  the  choice  of  the  Twelve  and  their 
being  sent  forth.  Is  it  not  probable  that  the  new  designation 
was  given  only  when  the  new  vocation  was  actually  begun? 
Would  the  new  title  be  understood  apart  from  the  experience 
by  which  it  was  illuminated?  This  argument  is  strengthened 
by  the  circumstance  that  St  Mark  appears  to  employ  the  term 
'  apostle '  only  in  connexion  with  the  missionary  journey  of  the 
Twelve.  With  him  it  is  not  so  much  a  title  belonging  to  them, 
as  a  term  descriptive  of  the  functions  assigned  to  tnera  on  a 
special  occasion.  To  decide  between  these  conflicting  opinions 
is  not  easy,  but  on  the  whole  the  suggestion  that  the  disciples 
were  not  called  *  apostles'  till  they  were  first  sent  out  appears 
the  more  probable. 

The  Sermon  on  the  Mount  is  regarded  by  many  as  an  address 
delivered  by  our  Lord  when  He  chose  the  Twelve.  The  note  of 
time  in  the  Gospel  of  St.  Luke  ascribes  it  to  this  occasion,  and 
there  is  no  reason  to  reject  this  testimony.  Besides,  it  has  the 
greatest  internal  probability  in  its  favour.  The  appointment  of 
the  Apostles  formed  an  epoch  in  the  ministry  of  our  Lord ; 
what  more  natural  or  suitable  than  that  He  should  avail  Him- 
self of  the  occasion  to  explain  and  enforce  His  convictions  as  to 
the  true  life  of  man  ?  The  time  was  most  opportune  for  such  a 
deliverance.  The  hearts  of  the  disciples  were  deeply  moved  ; 
their  whole  natures  were  quickened  and  alert ;  why  not  sow 
seed  which  might  afterwards  bear  abundant  fruit?  The  char- 
acter of  the  Sermon  itself  is  another  argument  confirming  this 
conclusion.  It  is  didactic  rather  than  hortatory.  It  expounds 
truth  rather  than  proclaims  the  mercy  of  God.  Finally,  there  is 
nothing  in  the  Sermon  which  conflicts  with  this  opinion.  It  may 
then  be  assumed  with  some  confidence  that  the  Sermon  on  the 
Mount  was  spoken  in  connexion  with  the  call  of  the  Twelve. 
>Iany  writers  go  further  and  contend  that  it  was  spoken  to  them 
principally  or  exclusively.  But  this  opi' 
the  statements  of  the  Gospels  of  St.  Ma 
is  not  required  by  the 

announces  were  riot  intended  for  the  Twelve  alone ;  why  then 
should  they  not  have  been  heard  by  all  the  disciples?  This 
result  is  in  no  way  inconsistent  with  the  opinion  that  the 
Sermon  on  the  Mount  formed,  as  it  were,  a  special  charge  to 
the  Twelve  in  view  of  the  new  position  which  they  were  hence- 
forward to  occupy.  It  is  not  necessary  for  our  purpose  to  dis- 
cuss the  limits  of  the  Sermon  or  do  more  than  turnish  a  brief 
account  of  its  teaching.  Our  Lord  wished  His  followers  to 
understand  the  meaning  of  righteousness ;  to  know  what  the 
will  of  God  really  was ;  the  true  nature  of  the  demands  He 
made  on  them ;  how  to  frame  their  conduct  if  they  were  to 
obtain  His  approval.  The  subject  of  the  address  then  is  the 
true  life  of  man.  The  charmterislii-  features  of  that  life  are  set 
forth  in  a  series  of  blessings  prouounceU  on  those  who  possess 


APOSTLES 


the  qualities  sjioken  of;  the  mission  of  Christians  as  the  light 
of  the  world  and  the  salt  of  the  earth  is  touched  on  ;  and  then 
our  Lord  proceeds  to  contrast  the  perfect  requirements  of  the 
Law  of  God  as  understood  by  Himself  with  the  requirements  of 
that  Law  as  contained  in  the  OT  or  as  sanctioned  by  tradition  ; 
after  which  He  illustrates  the  true  nature  of  .almsgiving,  fasting, 
and  pr.\ver,  .and  of  devotion  to  the  will  of  God.  See  Sermon  on 
THE  Mount  below,  and  in  Hastings'  DB,  Ext.  Vol.  1  ff. 

It  would  have  been  most  instructive  had  any  record  of  the 
effect  produced  on  the  Apostles  by  this  Sermon  "been  preserved. 
Their  suri>rise  must  have  equalled  their  admiration.  The  severe 
requirements,  the  strictures  on  the  Law,  the  novelty  of  the 
interpreUtions,  the  .apparent  paradoxes,  must  have  astonished 
It  is  doing  them  no  injustice  to  say  that 
beyond  their  comprehension.  They  may 
i  seen  tnal  me  qualities  required  of  them  were  embodied  in 
Lord's  own  life,  and  that  the  temper  of  the  Beatitudes  was 
exactly  His  temper.    They  may  have  felt  that  the  sphere  of  the 


and  perple 


■  life  V 


I  life,  and  that  the  1 

less  properly  the  sphere  of  law  than  that  of 


speech  and  conduct.    They  may  have  discerned  that  the  1 

Sreatness  of  man  is  to  live  not  merely  as  God  enjoins,  but  as  God 
himself  lives.  But  they  could  hardly  grasp  what  our  Lord  meant 
by  the  fulfilment  of  the  Law.  A  fiufilment  which  was  at  the 
same  time  an  abolition  was  a  mystery  to  them.  Nor  would  they 
perceive  that  He  had  transfonned  morality  by  reducing  it  to  the 
principle  of  life  according  to  Got! ;  the  one  supreme  rule  of  duty 
being  to  love  God  and  man.  The  paradoxical  expressions,  too, 
would  be  as  puzzling  to  them  as  they  have  proved  to  thousands 
since.  In  their  discussions  there  would  be  champions  of  literal- 
ism, but  these  would  soon  be  brought  to  acknowledge  that  a 
perfectly  literal  obedience  to  the  commands  given  was  im- 
practicable. 

4.  Training  of  tlw  Apostles.— -From  the  call  of 
the  Apostles  the  mission  of  our  Lord  was  more  a 
mission  to  them  than  to  His  fellow-countrymen  at 
large.  He  had  waited  until  the  time  that  a  proper 
selection  from  His  disciples  could  be  made :  now 
that  the  choice  had  taken  place  He  devoted  Him- 
self to  their  instruction  and  training.  The  Apostles 
were  to  accompany  Jesus  from  place  to  place  ;  they 
were  to  be  with  Him  continually.  This  implied 
the  relinquishment  of  their  means  of  living.  It 
was  not  possible  for  them  to  continue  at  their 
occupations  and  be  Apostles  of  Jesus.   The  sacrifice 


made  by  each  Apostle  in  obeying  the  i 
apostleship  has  seldom  been  adequately  appre 
ated.     In   some    instances   the    property   left 


sold,  the  income  abandoned,  might  not  be  great 
intrinsically,  but  a  man's  all  is  great  to  liim, 
hence  the  moral  courage  needed  of  every  Apostle 
was  not  slight.  How  then  were  their  wants  sup- 
plied? Whence  did  they  obtain  money  to  meet 
their  daily  expenses?  The  arrangement  followed 
was  probaoly  devised  by  our  Lord,  and  formed  one 
of  the  earliest  lessons  He  intended  them  to  master. 
In  a  sense  this  first  lesson  is  the  supreme  and  even 
the  sole  lesson  which  He  sought  to  teach,  that  of 
absolute  reliance  on  Himself  for  everything.  Trust 
in  the  Father,  trust  in  Himself,  was  the  lesson 
which  Jesus  sought  to  inculcate  at  all  times.  The 
Twelve  and  our  Lord  formed,  as  it  were,  a  single 
household,  of  which  He  was  the  head.  He  presided 
at  the  common  meals,  He  gave  directions  as  to 
their  movements.  The  cost  of  their  maintenance 
was  borne  by  a  common  purse.  One  of  the  Twelve 
was  the  treasurer  of  the  company  (Jn  13^).  The 
food  needed  was  either  carriecf  with  them,  or  pur- 
chased, or  provided  by  the  hospitality  which  is  so 
characteristic  of  the  East.  The  company  could  not 
only  supply  their  own  wants,  but  could  minister  to 
those  of  the  poor  (Jn  IS'^).  The  sources  from  which 
their  supplies  were  drawn  were  doubtless  various. 
Some  among  them  had  had  or  still  had  property, 
and  the  proceeds,  contributed  to  the  common  stock, 
helped  to  defray  the  charges  of  each  day.  It  is 
almost  certain  that  presents  were  made  to  our 
Lord  and  the  company  from  time  to  time  by  grate- 
ful friends  and  neighbours.  But  the  principal 
source  seems  to  have  been  the  generosity  of  several 
women  who  accompanied  them  on  some  of  their 
journeys,  and  placed  their  means  and  services  at 
the  command  of  our  Lord.  The  names  of  some  of 
these  women  have  been  preserved  in  a  most  in- 
structive passage  in  St.  Luke's  Gospel  (8'- '),  which 
is  the  chief  authority  on  the  subject  under  con- 


APOSTLES 


APOSTLES 


107 


sideratioii.  Among  these  are  mentioned  Mary  of 
Magdala,  Joanna  (possibly  a  widow  whose  husband 
had  been  a  steward  of  Herod  Antipas),  and  Susanna. 
It  is  evident  from  St.  Luke's  statement  that  the 
number  of  such  women  was  large,  and  it  was  prob- 
ably owing  to  their  generosity  that  our  Lord  and  the 
Twelve  were  able  to  devote  themselves  untroubled 
and  untrammelled  to  their  task.  It  should  be  noticed 
that  the  kind  of  life  lived  by  the  Twelve  was  itself  a 
practical  illustration  of  some  of  the  cardinal  lessons 
which  Jesus  desired  to  teach.  The  subordinate 
value  of  earthly  possessions  could  not  have  been 
more  ettectively  taught  than  by  the  life  of  depend- 
ence on  the  liberality  of  others.  Their  journeys, 
too,  from  place  to  place  had  also  their  value.  They 
were  stimulated  by  new  scenes  and  new  persons ; 
new  conditions  had  to  be  faced,  new  duties  per- 
formed. They  had  leisure  to  ponder  on  what  was 
said  to  them ;  they  were  not  distracted  from  the 
great  work  of  their  life,  the  knowledge  of  their 
Master.  This  was  their  duty,  and  it  became  their 
glory.  For  in  understanding  Him  they  came  to 
resemble  Him.  The  education  of  the  Twelve,  the 
transformation  of  them  from  the  men  they  were 
into  the  men  they  became,  is  one  of  the  greatest 
of  our  Lord's  achievements.  The  Apostles  were  to 
be  our  Lord's  witnesses,  but  the  witnessing  of 
which  He  thought  demanded  insight,  sympathy, 
courage,  self-command,  tolerance,  patience,  charity. 
It  was  inseparable  from  the  highest  moral  endow- 
ments. It  involved  great  receptive  and  assimilative 
power,  issuing  in  vigorous  and  unceasing  obedience 
and  service. 

In  order  that  the  Apostles  might  become  His 
witnesses,  our  Lord  made  use  of  three  principal 
agencies :  (a)  His  personality,  {b)  His  miracles,  and 
(c)  His  teaching. 

{a)  To  be  with.  Jesus  was  in  itself  the  best  of  all 
education  and  training.  It  was  on  this  account 
that  the  Apostles  were  chosen  to  be  with  Him 
habitually.  A  complete  knowledge  of  Him  could 
be  attained  only  in  this  way.  For  knowledge  is 
acquired  insensiljly  not  less  than  sensibly,  and  the 
Apostleslearnedmuch  regarding  Jesus  when  itnever 
struck  them  that  they  were  doing  so.  Gradually 
His  influence  told  on  them.  His  ideals,  motives, 
ends  became  clear  to  them.  His  manners,  looks, 
tones,  words,  ways  became  their  inspiration  and 
guide.  They  felt  what  goodness,  truth,  duty  were. 
Above  all,  they  came  to  know  God  as  the  father. 
It  would,  however,  be  a  serious  error  to  hold  that 
the  Twelve  from  the  first  moment  of  their  selection 
appreciated  the  true  grandeur  of  the  life  of  Jesus. 
On  the  contrary,  that  life  must  often  have  pre- 
sented to  them  a  problem  of  no  little  difficulty. 
It  was  not  the  type  of  life  which  they  had  been 
accustomed  to  regard  as  specifically  religious,  still 
less  as  embodying  religion  in  its  perfection  and 
integrity.  It  is  probable  that  those  of  the  Apostles 
who  had  been  disciples  of  the  Baptist  were  at  first 
more  impressed  by  his  austere  and  solitary  life 
than  by  the  life  of'  Jesus,  which  was  substantially 
that  of  ordinary  men.  He  ate  and  drank  as  they 
did.  He  dressed  like  them.  He  moved  freely 
among  them.  He  never  sought  to  protect  Himself 
from  the  approach  of  men,  but  on  the  contrary  in- 
vited them  to  draw  near.  Nothing  in  His  bearing 
or  speech  betrayed  that  He  regarded  Himself  as 
standing  on  a  ditterent  plane  from  other  men,  or 
that  He  expected  them  to  treat  Him  as  belonging 
to  a  ditferent  order  of  existence.  He  was  simple, 
genial,  afl'able,  accessible.  His  mode  of  life,  too, 
viewed  as  religious,  must  have  tilled  them  with 
surprise.  He  had  no  fixed  hours  or  forms  of 
prayer.  His  approach  to  the  Father  was  the  ex- 
pression of  His  habitual  reverence,  adoration,  and 
trust,  but  it  was  not  determined,  much  less  fettered, 
by  rule.     He  prayed  as  He  was  moved  to  pray. 


Again,  He  departed  from  a  usage  which  was  one 
of  the  chief  features  of  the  piety  of  the  time. 
He  declined  to  fast.  Not  only  had  He  no  regular 
fast  days.  He  neither  fasted  Himself  nor  did  He 
inculcate  the  observance  on  them.  Another  respect 
in  which  He  deviated  widely  from  the  religious 
practices  of  His  time  was  His  disregard  of  cere- 
monial ablutions.  He  paid  no  attention  to  the 
rules  affecting  ritual  purity.  There  is  no  evidence 
that  He  violated  the  usages  of  His  nation  as  to 
foods,  but  His  attitude  towards  these  showed 
that  He  attached  no  value  to  them.  Even  that 
rite  which  was  fundamental  and  distinctive,  the 
pledge  of  salvation  because  the  assurance  of  being 
a  member  of  the  covenant,  the  rite  of  circtimcismi, 
was  unnoticed  in  His  teaching.  In  yet  another 
and  hardly  less  important  respect  our  Lord's  life 
was  largely  different  from  the  accepted  type  of 
sanctity.  The  Sabbath,  like  circumcision,  wa.s 
one  of  the  peculiar  glories  of  Judaism,  and  the 
teachers  of  our  Lord's  age  and  of  preceding 
generations  had  framed  a  code  of  rules  to  protect 
it  from  desecration.  These  He  trampled  under 
foot.  The  endless  regulations  intended  to  stop 
the  performance  of  any  work  whatever  on  that 
day  He  brushed  aside  as  at  variance  with  the  true 
end  of  the  Sabbath  institution.  He  rejoiced  in 
the  Sabbath,  esteeming  it  to  be  one  of  God's  best 
gifts  to  man,  but  He  was  everywhere  denounced 
as  a  Sabbath-breaker  by  those  who  regarded 
themselves  as  the  interpreters  of  the  law  (Jn  5'*). 
Even  in  the  matter  of  almsgiving  He  was  not  as 
the  men  who  professed  to  be  specially  religious. 
He  was  beneficent  in  the  highest  degree,  but  He 
followed  no  systematic  rules. 

Hence  it  is  plain  that  the  tenor  of  our  Lord's 
life  must  have  formed  a  problem  of  no  little  com- 
plexity to  the  Twelve  during  the  first  stage-s  of 
their  apprenticeship.  Was  this  life — so  simple,  so 
natural— a  truly  religious  life  ?  Was  the  religious 
life  bright,  sunny,  cheerful,  full  of  hope  and  joy  ? 
Was  this  life  of  simple  trust  in  the  Father  and  of 
obedience  to  His  will  in  the  fulfilment  of  the 
common  duties  of  life— was  this  religion?  Nor 
was  the  perplexity  of  the  Apostles  lessened  by 
the  classes  with  which  our  Lord  preferred  to 
associate.  He  addressed  Himself  to  the  sick,  the 
poor,  and  the  outcast.  The  solicitude  of  Jesus  for 
the  least  necessitous  of  these  classes  was  a  difficulty 
to  some  of  them,  but  their  surprise  rose  to  the 
height  when  they  saw  Him  mix  freely  with  those 
under  a  social  ban. 

Doubtless  the  eyes  of  the  Apostles  were  opened 
gradually.  They  came  to  perceive,  as  we  do 
to-day,  that  the  life  spent  by  their  Master  was 
the  typical  life  of  man.  Its  likeness  to  the 
common  life  of  men  is  its  glory.  For  by  it  the 
common  life  which  all  must  live  is  transfigured 
and  made  the  ideal  life  of  men.  Its  freedom  from 
rule  is  discerned  to  be  the  rea-son  why  it  is  capable 
of  becoming  the  model  of  all  lives  without  excep- 
tion. For  that  freedom  teaches  men  that  true 
religion  creates  its  own  forms,  while  its  essence 
of  ti-ust  in  God  and  devotion  to  His  will  remains 
unalterable.  The  sympathy  which  He  exhibited 
for  all  classes  was  a  revelation  of  the  truth  that 
He  was  the  Saviour  of  the  world. 

(6)  Perhaps  nothing  impressed  our  Lord's  dis- 
ciples more  when  they  first  became  acquainted 
with  Him  than  His  miracles.  The  expectation 
that  the  Messiah  would  work  miracles  seems  to 
have  been  general.  The  Gospels  leave  the  im- 
pression that  the  common  people  anticipated  that 
works  of  a  most  marvellous  description  would  be 
performed  by  the  Messiah.  The  nature  of  these 
works  was  undefined,  but  they  transcended  the 
ordinary  endowments  of  man.  The  Twelve  then 
may  have  felt  little  surprise  when  they  saw  their 


APOSTLES 


APOSTLES 


Lord  perforin  miracles,  but  every  new  miracle 
would  ser»-e  to  strengthen  their  conviction  of  His 
title  to  be  the  Messiah.  It  is  not  likely,  however, 
that  they  were  prepared  for  the  kind  of  miracles 
which  He  worked.  None  of  them  could  have  fore- 
told that  the  Messiah  would  confine  Himself  in 
great  measure  to  the  accomplishment  of  miraculous 
cures  of  body  and  mind ;  that  He  would  spend 
many  hours  on  many  days  in  healing  sickness  and 
in  expelling  demons.  The  miracles  of  Jesus  were 
as  unexpected  as  His  mode  of  life.  The  Apostles 
were  dreaming  of  miracles  of  judgment  at  the  very 
hour  when  He  w  as  performing  miracles  of  mercy. 
Even  the  miracles  over  nature  were  not  those  of 
which  they  naturally  thouglit. 

The  Apostles  could  not  fail  to  perceive  the  range 
of  the  power  wielded  by  their  Master  and  be  filled 
with  amazement.  No  "disease  could  withstand  His 
word  or  touch.  The  very  demons  yielded  to  His 
sway.  Death  itself  was  powerless  before  Him.  It 
is  important  to  notice  that  some  of  the  miracles 
were  performed  before  the  Apostles  only.  The 
miracles  in  which  the  Apostles  as  a  whole  or  some 
of  them  were  specially  concerned  are  these :  the 
Miraculous  Draught  of  Fishes  recorded  by  St.  Luke 
(5'-'),  the  Stilling  of  the  Storm  (Mk  4=9),  the  Walk- 
ing on  the  Sea  (6^,  Jn  6'*),  the  Stater  in  the 
Fish's  Mouth  (Mt  17='),  the  Cursing  of  the  Fig-tree 
(Mk  11-°),  and  the  Second  Miraculous  Draught  of 
Fishes  (Jn  21").  These  signs  had  a  peculiar  value 
for  the  Twelve.  They  were  proofs  of  knowledge 
and  of  power  fitted  to  promote  faith  and  to 
enforce  truth.  There  is  a  fitness  in  the  circum- 
stance that  most  of  the  miracles  on  nature  were 
wrought  before  or  on  behalf  of  the  Apostles. 
For  they  more  than  others  were  prepared  to 
embrace  the  truth  that  Jesus  was  the  Lord  of 
nature.  It  was  indispensable  that  they  should 
be  taught  this  fact,  and  how  could  it  have 
been  better  illustrated  than  by  the  miracles 
wrought  on  the  Sea  of  Galilee?  What  a  revela- 
tion of  the  knowledge  or  power  of  Jesus  ;  what  a 
prophecy  of  the  success  of  the  new  vocation  to 
which  they  were  summoned,  was  the  first  draught 
of  fishes  !  What  a  lesson  concerning  the  might  of 
Jesus  was  contained  in  the  instant  obedience  of 
the  raging  waves  and  winds  to  His  command  ! 
What  a  fresh  disclosure  of  His  power  was  His 
walking  towards  them  on  the  .sea  as  they  toiled  to 
make  the  western  shore  of  the  lake !  What  in- 
struction to  Peter  and  to  the  rest  when  Peter  first 
succeeded  in  imitating  his  Master's  walking  on  the 
water  and  then  began  to  sink  !  How  fraught  with 
suggestions  to  Peter  the  coin  found  in  the  mouth 
of  the  first  fish  which  came  to  his  hook  as  he 
lowered  it  into  the  lake !  What  confirmation  of 
all  that  tliey  had  learned  was  found  in  the  second 
draught  of  fishes,  that  after  the  Resurrection  ! 
The  cursing  of  the  fig-tree  occupies  a  place  by 
itself  among  our  Lord's  miracles,  but  the  lesson  it 
teaches  is  most  weighty.  A  miracle  of  judgment  is 
as  suitable  as  a  parable  of  judgment.  The  lesson 
of  the  need  of  correspondence  between  profession 
and  practice  could  not  have  been  more  impressively 
taught  than  by  the  fate  of  the  fig-tree. 

No  one  can  doubt  that  the  number  and  variety 
of  the  miracles  witnessed  by  the  Apostles  enhanced 
their  conception  of  our  Lord's  person  and  powers. 
Perhaps,  too,  they  discerned,  even  if  imperfectly, 
what  IS  so  clear  to  iis  to-day,  that  the  miracles 
were  indeed  what  He  called  them,  signs :  manifes- 
tations of  the  character  and  qualities  of  the  king- 
dom which  He  had  come  to  set  up.  The  boundless 
sympathy  and  compassion  of  their  Master  must 
have  struck  them  ;  His  life  not  less  than  His  teach- 
ing was  mercy  and  service.  His  works  of  mercy 
were  the  living  embodiment  of  the  principles  of 
mercy  He  inculcated.     He  healed  all  who  sought 


His  aid,  making  no  inquiry  into  their  past,  their 
station,  their  gifts,  but  caring  only  for  their  needs. 
It  was  impossible  for  the  Apostles  not  to  discover 
that  the  miracles  they  beheld  with  such  frequency 
were  signs  of  the  grace  and  love  of  the  Father 
speaking  to  men  through  Jesus. 

As  the  Apostles  saw  the  miracles  and  Iieard 
what  Jesus  said  respecting  them,  did  they  form  a 
just  conception  of  their  nature  and  function? 
Were  they  able  to  compare  them  with  the  por- 
tents for  which  they  had  at  one  time  longed  ?  Did 
they  perceive  the  relation  of  the  signs  to  the 
person  of  Jesus  ?  Did  they  discern  that  the  signs 
could  be  fully  understood  only  through  His  char- 
acter ?  Did  they  recognize  that  the  cbaracter  and 
words  of  Jesus  were  greater  than  His  signs,  but 
that  these  were  nevertheless  such  as  to  convince 
every  impartial  judge  that  His  mission  was  of 
God  ?  They  knew  that  Jesus  never  regarded  His 
miracles  as  the  chief  evidence  for  the  validity  of 
His  claims ;  they  were  neither  His  sole  nor  His 
principal  credentials  ;  they  were  rather  a  part  and 
element  of  His  message  and  His  work.  Did  they 
see  clearly  that  the  evidential  value  of  the  miracles 
did  not  consist  in  their  departure  from  the  estab- 
lished order  of  nature,  in  their  capacity  as  mar- 
vels, but  in  their  congruity  with  the  character  and 
aims  of  Jesus,  and  as  illustrations  of  His  spirit 
and  ways?  We  would  gladly  learn  whether  the 
Apostles  ever  reflected  on  the  use  made  by  our 
Lord  of  His  miraculous  endowments.  Believing 
in  Him  as  the  Lord  of  nature  and  of  life,  aware 
that  He  had  unnumbered  forces  at  His  command, 
were  they  surprised  that  He  never  employed  His 
powers  to  promote  His  advantage  or  to  defend  His 
disciples  or  Himself  from  injustice  and  violence? 
AVhence  this  self-repression  ?  Why  was  the  sphere 
of  the  miraculous  so  strictly  limited  ?  Why  were 
none  of  the  miracles  of  a  character  to  dazzle, 
compel,  overwhelm  ?  Why  did  Jesus  refuse  so 
often  the  request  for  a  sign,  and  especially  for  a 
sign  from  heaven?  Why  was  the  thauniaturgic 
element  wholly  absent  from  His  works  ?  The  fact 
that  our  Lord  observed  a  peculiar  temperance  in 
the  emploj^ment  of  His  miraculous  gifts  must  have 
imprinted  itself  on  the  minds  of  the  Apostles,  and 
it  is  probable  that  the  significance  of  the  fact 
became  more  and  more  obvious  as  their  experience 
widened.  Even  before  the  Crucifixion  they  may 
have  discerned  that  this  self-restraint  was  m  full 
harmony  with  His  attitude  towards  the  world,  and 
only  the  corollary  of  His  conception  of  the  King- 
dom.    See,  further,  art.  MIRACLES. 

(c)  From  the  first,  the  disciples  had  regarded 
Jesus  as  a  teacher,  and  whatever  more  He  became 
to  them  as  their  intercourse  with  Him  deepened,  a 
teacher  He  remained  to  the  end.  Or,  to  speak 
more  correctly,  from  being  a  teacher  He  became 
the  Teacher  ;  and  the  greatest  of  teachers,  measured 
by  any  proper  standard.  He  certainly  was  and 
abides.  The  substance  of  His  teaching  is  the 
truest,  wisest,  and  best  on  the  loftiest  and 
weightiest  of  all  topics— topics  as  to  which  all 
teadiers  before  Him  were  as  men  groping  in  the 
dark.  He  and  He  alone  speaks  with  the  confidence 
of  personal  knowledge  regarding  the  nature  of  God 
and  His  relations  to  man.  It  is  Miltlc  iiiit  for  our 
present  purpose  to  refer  to  tli.'  imiuiahn-ss,  the 
ease,  the  familiarity  with  wliirh  .Iimi>  sinjke  con- 
cerning the  Kingdom  of  God ;  the  character  and 
intentions  of  the  Father ;  the  righteousness  He 
requires  ;  the  conditions  on  which  entrance  into  the 
Kingdom  depends ;  its  history  and  its  final  issues ; 
the  testimony  borne  by  Jesus  to  Himself  ;  the  place 
He  assigns  to  His  person  and  work.  Never  man  so 
spake  (Jn  7**).  Yet  He  .speaks  what  He  knows, 
and  testifies  of  what  He  has  seen  (Jn  3").  Here,  if 
anywhere,  the  entire  religious  experience  of  man- 


APOSTLES 


APOSTLES 


109 


kind  affirms  the  truth  of  the  witness  He  bore. 
His  message  authenticates  itself  ;  it  bears  the  seal 
of  its  Divine  origin  upon  it.  Such  views  ne\er 
sprang  up  within  the  mind  of  man  ;  they  descended 
out  of  heaven  from  God. 

And  this  teaching  was  conveyed  to  the  disciples 
and  to  tlie  people  according  to  definite  methods 
and  in  language  which  forms  an  epoch  in  human 
speech.  It  is  unlikely  that  our  Lord  ever  reflected 
on  tlie  problems  which  form  the  science  and  art  of 
teaching,  or  that  He  ever  laid  down  rules  for  His 
own  guidance  ;  but  the  essence  of  all  that  is  best 
in  the  writings  of  the  great  educators  is  embodied 
in  His  practice.  Let  a  reader  come  to  the  Gospels 
full  of  wliat  he  has  learned  regarding  education 
from  Plato  and  Aristotle  and  their  successors,  and 
he  can  perceive  without  difficulty,  in  the  relations 
between  our  Lord  and  the  Apostles ;  in  His  attitude 
towards  them  ;  in  His  modes  of  stimulating,  en- 
larging, and  enriching  their  minds ;  in  His  tact, 
patience,  and  wisdom, — the  signs  of  skill  which  is 
incomparable  because  so  spontaneous,  so  flexible, 
and  so  fertile  of  resource.  Never  for  a  moment  did 
He  lose  sight  of  His  object,  to  qualify  the  Apostles 
to  be  His  witnesses  and  representatives  ;  but  He 
did  not  dwell  on  that  purpose.  He  was  aware 
that  the  power  of  personality  is  the  strongest  and 
most  penetrating  of  all  forces,  and  accordingly  He 
separated  the  Apostles  more  and  more,  as  the  days 
went  by,  from  their  familiar  scenes  and  labours,  in 
order  that  they  might,  because  of  their  complete 
intimacy  with  Him,  breathe  His  spirit  and  share 
in  His  aims.  They  were  ennobled,  as  it  were, 
despite  themselves.  New  ideals  and  motives  took 
possession  of  them.  He  was  so  constantly  before 
their  eyes,  so  continually  the  subject  of  their 
speech,  so  much  the  centre  of  their  interests  and 
the  goal  of  their  hopes,  that  tliey  grew  into  His 
image.  Not  less  evident  was  His  desire  that  the 
Apostles  should  not  be  mere  echoes  of  Himself,  but 
men  of  originality,  courage,  and  resource.  It  was 
on  this  account  that  He  delivered  no  systematic 
instruction  ;  that  He  caused  nothing  to  be  com- 
mitted to  memory ;  that  He  did  not  store  the 
minds  of  the  Apostles  with  rules,  lists  of  duties, 
tables  of  the  forbidden  and  the  permissible.  Hence 
He  gave  no  dogmas  in  fixed  shape  even  on  the 
greatest  of  all  subjects.  Hence,  too.  He  furnished 
no  directory  for  the  duties  of  the  day,  and  made  no 
attempt  to  prescribe  the  hours  to  be  employed  in 
devotion  or  the  words  to  be  used,  or  to  determine 
the  provision  to  be  made  for  the  sick  and  the  poor. 
Again,  He  taught  only  as  His  disciples  were  able 
to  receive.  Not  that  He  never  went  beyond  their 
capacity.  This  He  frequently  did,  and  of  set  pur- 
pose. But  He  observed  an  order  in  what  He  said. 
The  most  obvious  illustration  of  this  fact  is  His 
teaching  regarding  His  person.  He  did  not  begin 
to  tell  at  once  who  He  was,  nor  did  He  open  His 
lips  as  to  His  death  until  He  had  evoked  from 
Peter's  lips  as  the  spokesman  of  tlie  Twelve  the 
confession  that  He  was  the  Messiah  (Mk  8=", 
Mt  16",  Lk  9=°).  It  is  expressly  stated  that  He 
kept  back  much  from  His  disciples,  leaving  them 
to  tlie  enlightenment  of  the  Spirit,  because  they 
were  unprepared  to  receive  what  He  had  to  com- 
municate (Jn  W).  If  He  spoke  of  what  thev  did 
not  comprehend  at  once,  it  was  either  that  their 
intellects  might  be  quickened  or  tliat  they  might 
treasure  in  their  memories  the  truth  mentioned,  in 
view  of  their  future  experience.  His  references 
to  His  death  had  as  their  chief  aim  to  render  the 
Apostles  certain  of  the  fact  and,  above  all,  that  it 
was  foreknown  by  Him.  Nor  was  He  impatient 
for  results.  He  never  forced  growth.  He  knew 
that  to  build  durably  is  to  build  slowly;  and  so 
He  bore  with  ignorance,  with  misapprehension, 
with    imperfect   views,   with   partial    and    hasty 


inferences,  knowing  that  these  would  be  corrected 
by  the  discipline  of  experience.  He  souglit 
especially  to  preserve  the  individuality  of  His 
disciples,  and  to  unfold  the  characteristic  endow- 
ments of  each.  None  of  them  was  to  be  other 
than  himself.  No  one  was  to  be  a  model  for  tlie 
rest.  He  knew  each  so  well  that  He  could  play  on 
him  as  on  an  instrument,  but  this  knowledge  He 
used  only  to  promote  the  welfare  of  the  disciple. 
The  manifestation  of  personal  cliaracter,  the  per- 
sonal discernment  of  truth,  the  exhibition  of 
personal  sympathy,  appreciation,  reverence,  devo- 
tion, love,  filled  Him  with  delight. 

The  Gospels  show  on  every  page  that  our  Lord 
encouraged  the  disciples  to  ask  Him  questions. 
Whatever. difficulties  presented  themselves  to  their 
minds  they  were  free  to  place  before  Him.  This 
they  did  so  constantly  that  the  habit  must  have 
been  created  by  our  Lord.  How  large  a  portion 
of  the  Gospels  is  occupied  with  the  questions  and 
remarks  of  the  Apostles  !  It  is  to  these  questions 
that  we  are  indebted  for  tlie  explanation  of  the 
parable  of  the  Sower  (Mk  4").  The  same  is  true 
of  His  teaching  regarding  defilement  (Mt  15'^). 
How  much  we  owe  to  Peter's  questions—'  How 
often  shall  my  brother  sin  against  me  and  I  forgive 
him  ? '  (Mt  18-M  ;  '  What  shall  we  have  therefore  ? ' 
(Mt  19").  But  perhaps  the  finest  illustration  of 
the  relations  of  our  Lord  and  the  Apostles  in  this 
connexion  is  the  intercourse  on  the  night  of  the 
betrayal.  No  passage  in  the  Gospels  is  so  in- 
structive as  to  the  readiness  of  the  disciples  to 
break  in  by  questions  on  what  our  Lord  was  say- 
ing, and  the  skill  with  which  He  availed  Himself 
of  these  questions  to  open  to  them  His  deepest 
thoughts  and  purposes  (.Jn  13^"^). 

The  resources  of  human  spiicch  li:ivc  lif.'ii  strained 
to  tlie  utmost  to  describe  the  ^rinr  ;in.l  [uiwer  of 
the  language  of  Jesus,  and  yut  llir  n.-uli  is  felt  to 
be  inadequate.  Did  the  Aiiuslles  lucu-uize  the 
originality,  the  strength,  the  flexibility,  the  charm, 
tlie  aptness,  the  simplicity,  the  depth  of  the  words 
of  Jesus?  We  cannot  tell ;  it  may  have  been  that 
their  apprehension  of  the  beauty  and  majesty  of 
His  language  was  much  less  than  ours,  but  even 
they  must  have  felt  a  strange  thrill  as  they  heard 
the  most  sublime  of  all  truths  clothed  in  terms 
which  they  were  in  the  habit  of  using  every  day 
of  their  lives.  It  was  a  new  experience  to  have 
religion  speak  the  tongue  of  the  home,  the  work- 
shop, and  the  street.  Then,  too,  the  illustrations 
which  He  used  !  The  whole  life  of  the  ordinary 
man  was  laid  under  tribute  to  illustrate  the  King- 
dom of  God.  The  furniture  of  his  home,  his  food, 
his  clothing,  his  work,  his  intercourse  with  liis 
fellows  were  made  the  symbol  and  the  vesture  of 
heavenly  truths.  Earth  shone  in  the  light  of 
heaven.  One  form  of  speech  is  specially  identified 
with  the  teaching  of  Jesus— the  parable.  The 
parable  may  be  regarded  as  the  creation  of  Jesus. 
The  parables  of  the  OT,  and  those  found  in  Jewish 
writings,  hardly  deserve  mention  in  this  respect. 
Nor  did  Jesus  teach  in  parables  because  the  lan- 
guage of  parable  is  the  language  of  the  East.  He 
devised  the  parable  to  meet  the  requirements  of 
His  hearers.  The  parable  is  His  own  workman- 
ship, the  product  of  His  mind  and  heart.  The 
parables  of  Jesus  are  unique  alike  in  literature 
and  religion,  and  are  as  distinctive  of  Him  as  the 
miracles. 

An  ordinary  reader  of  the  Gospels  is  apt  to  suppose  tliat  the 
ministry  of  Jesus,  from  its  beginning;,'  to  its  close,  was  distin- 
guished by  the  use  of  parables.  But  this  oiiiniun 
No  parables  marked  the  openinnr  of  the  iiiiiiistry. 
of  the  parable  is  noticed  at  length.  To  the  tiuest 
finally  adopted  the  parable  most  men  would  reply- 
intersst,  to  stimulate,  to  find  the  readiest  and  nios 
to  the  mind  for  truth  and  duty.    But  when  the  Oi 


APOSTLES 


APOSTLES 


taught  in  parables,  not  to  reveal  but  to  conceal__^th_e_  truth 
not  to  instruct  but  to  condemn  men  (Mk 
always  been  a  Btumbling-block  ' 


These  words 
interpreters.  Perhaps 
their  true  significance  may  never  be  ascertained ;  but  the  view 
whkh  rejecte  them  as  the  correct  desoript.on  of  the  parables  as 
r  whole  is  justified,  because  they  are  at  vananoe  ^7*  the  Gospels 
Jtemselves.  The 'most  cursory  exammat.on  of  the  parables 
shows  that  many  of  them  are  messages  of  grace  J^^"  ?«„  „ 
to  discern  that  the  heart  of  God  is  represented  m  the  Pfable  of 
the  Prodigal  Son  as  the  heart  of  a  Father?  Is  this  truth  meant 
tn  pvtinmiish  hone'  Again,  an  examination  reveals  that  many 
o?  the  p'arable'^rere  splken  to  the  disciples  theniselves  Was 
this  the  penalty  of  their  blindness  "nd  hardness  of  heart? 
Accordinoly,  the  common  view  of  the  parable  is  the  true  view, 
and  nur  Lord  suoke  in  parables  to  render  his  teaching  as  simple 
v^vld,  stinmfati^S!  and'^.tlective  as  possible.  See  Parables,  and 
Illustrations. 

The  extent  to  which  the  parables  wer?  addressed 
to  the  Twelve  has  scarcely  received  adequate  recog- 
nition. Indeed  the  parables  are  seldom  spoken  of 
in  connexion  with  the  education  of  the  iwelve. 
Yet  one-third  of  them  were,  to  all  appearance, 
directed  to  the  Apostles  exclusively.  These  cover 
the  period  from  the  time  when  our  Lord  farst  began 
to  speak  in  parables  till  His  death  The  ten 
parables  belonging  to  this  class,  following  the 
order  first  of  St.  Matthew  and  then  of  St.  Luke, 
are  :  the  Hidden  Treasure,  the  Pearl,  the  Drag-net, 
the  Unmerciful  Servant,  the  Labourers  in  the  Vine- 
yard, the  Ten  Virgins,  the  Talents,  the  Friend  at 
Midnight,  the  Unprofitable  Servant,  the  Unmst 
Judfe  A  slight  acquaintance  with  these  parables 
shows  that  the  lessons  they  teach  were  those  our 
Lord  was  most  anxious  that  His  disciples  should 
learn.  The  measureless  value  of  the  kingdom  of 
God,  the  certainty  of  a  final  severance  between  the 
evil  and  the  good,  the  necessity  of  a  forgiving  dis- 
position, the  nature  and  conditions  of  the  future 
recompense,  the  obligation  of  watchfulness,  the 
reward  of  perseverance  in  prayer,  the  truth  that 
no  men  have  claims  of  merit  on  God,  are  the  sub- 
iects  with  which  these  parables  deal,  and  these 
subiects  were  constantly  in  the  heart  and  on  the 
lips  of  our  Lord.  A  flood  of  light  was  thrown  on 
all  these  topics  by  the  parables.  The  truth  was 
now  clearer,  more  comprehensible,  more  atlecting, 
more  subduing.  .  , 

Is  it  possible  to  discover  the  sentiments  with 
which  the  Twelve  listened  to  the  parables?  1  er- 
haps  they  were  too  plain  men  to  perceive  their 
exquisite  naturalness  and  beauty.  In  all  their 
discussions  concerning  them  not  a  word  may  have 
been  spoken  in  praise  of  that  perfect  felicity  \vhich 
secures  for  them  an  unequalled  place  m  the  litera- 
ture of  the  world.  But  they  would  at  least  per- 
ceive their  appropriateness.  How  they  must  have 
lived  in  their  memories  and  illuminated  truth  and 
duty  '  Did  the  Twelve  find  any  difficulty  in  under- 
standing the  import  of  the  parables  ?  Presumably 
their  condition  was  just  that  of  the  diligent  and 
devout  reader  of  to-day.  Some  parables  bcM-  then- 
meanings,  as  it  were,  on  their  forehead.  Nobody 
doubts  what  is  the  meaning  of  the  parable  of  the 
Good  Samaritan  or  of  the  Ten  Virgins.  It  is  true 
that  there  are  questions  connected  with  their  inter- 
pretation which  are  still  under  discussion,  but  the 
lessons  which  they  inculcate  are  obvious.  But 
what  of  the  parables  which  perplex  expositors 
to-day  1  What  of  the  Unjust  Ste^^;ard  .'  W  hat  of 
the  Labourers  in  the  Vineyard?  The  same  difti- 
cultics  whicli  occur  to  us  must  have  occurred  to 
the  disciples  But  they  had  this  immense  advan- 
tage over  us  that  tliey  could  ask  their  Master  ques- 
tions as  to  His  meaning,  and  we  know  that  these 
questions  were  freely  put.  The  interpretations  of 
the  parables  of  the  Sower  and  of  the  Tares  are 
said  to  have  been  replies  made  to  the  request  of 
the  disciples  for  an  explanation.  \Vhat  strikes 
one  in  these  answers  is  tfie  point,  depth,  freshness 
of  the  meaning.  These  explanations  have  some- 
times been  assigned  to  the  Apostles  themselves, 


but  the  supposition  is  without  probability.  ^\  ere 
it  sound  it  would  form  the  most  striking  proof  of 
the  efl'ect  on  them  of  their  intercourse  with  Jesus, 
for  it  is  impossible  to  suggest  juster  or  more 
suitable  interpretations  of  the  parables  concerned. 
One  peculiarly  instructive  sentence  was  spoken  by 
our  Lord  in  this  connexion  (Mt  13==).  He  had  been 
expounding  some  of  the  parables  to  His  disciples, 
and  asked  tf  He  had  been  understood  When  they 
replied  affirmatively,  He  remarked  that  every 
teacher  of  the  Law  instructed  regarding  the  king- 
dom of  heaven  was  like  a  househo  der  who  produced 
from  his  stores  things  new  and  old.  The  Apostles 
were  the  scribes  of  Jesus,  taught  to  understand  the 
nature,  characteristics,  and  history  of  the  King- 
dom of  God,  and  hence  capable  of  furnishing  most 
profitable  instruction  to  their  hearers.  The  old 
and  the  new  alike  were  at  their  command  in  their 
mutual  relations  and  connexions.  They  did  not 
desirise  the  one  nor  vaunt  themselves  concerning 
the  other.  The  Law  and  the  Gospel,  prophecv 
and  its  accomplishment,  the  Law  and  i^  fulfil- 
ment, furnished  them  with  the  subjects  which  they 
could  treat  with  knowledge  and  power. 

After  the  Twelve  had  been  some  time  with 
nnr  Lord  thev  were  sent  forth  on  a  missionary 
Zrney  (misZn  of  the  Apostles^  Mk  6',  Mt  1U% 
Lk  9M  The  time  at  which  the  mission  took  place, 
the  town  from  which  they  started,  the  duration 
of  the  mission,  are  uncertain.  Two  reasons  pro- 
bably influenced  our  Lord  iri  despatching  the 
Twelve  on  this  enterprise.  The  first  and  most 
prominent  was  His  profound  sympathy  for  the 
condition  of  the  people  of  Gali  ee  It  was  im- 
possible for  Him  to  evangelize  all  Galilee,  to  say 


nothing  of  the  entire  land  ;  others  must  share  His 
labour?.     This  was  one  of  the  ends  for  which  the 
Twelve  had  been  chosen,  and  accordingly  He  sent 
them  to  announce  everywhere  that  the  Kmga?ni 
of  God  was  nigh.    A  second  reason  was  that  He 
mi"ht  in  this  way  train  them  for  their  future  career. 
The  message  which  they  were  to  proclaim  corre- 
sponded with  their  own  comparative  immaturity  on 
tie  one  hand,  and  with  the  spiritual  state  of  their 
audiences  on  the  other.     To  have  declared  the 
Messiahship  of  Jesus  would  have  led  to  misunder- 
sUndfng,  aSd  have  hindered  rather  than   urthered 
the  exp°ansion  of  the  kingdom ;  hence  they  were 
confineS  to  the  assertion,  so  full  of  po^^f^  ^f^ 
liope,  that  the  Kingdom  was  at  hand.     To  assist 
them  in  discharging  tlieir  mission  as  the  envoys  of 
Jesus  they  were  endowed  with  miraculous  powers 
Thev  were  enabled  to  cure  disease   and  to  expel 
demons.      These  powers    they   were    to    exercise 
"gratuitously.      This  liberality   was    intended   by 
5esus  to  be  an  evidence  of  the  nature  of  the  king- 
dom, of  which  they  announced  the  near  approach. 
It  was  to  be  a  kingdom  of  compassion,  symijathy, 
tenderness.    These  endowments,  besides  serving  to 
howX  nature  of    the  kingdom,  were  also  a 
demonstration  of  the  trutli  of  their  message      The 
Apostles  were  enjoined  to  make  no  special   pro- 
vision for  the  mission  on  which  they,  were  about 
to  enter      They  were  Ui  start  on  it  just  as  thev 
were      They  were  to  take  neither  money,  nor  food, 
nor  clothinifor  their  journey.     They  were  to  rely 
fur  their  maintenance  on  the  P.^o^^^e"'*"*  <^°?' 
and  on  the  liospitality  which  they  were  to  seek. 
Sicause  of  the  urgency  of  the  case  their  attention 
was  to  be  concentrated  on  the  lost  sheep  of   the 
house  of  Israel.     It  is,  indeed,  not  probable  that 
our  Lord  meant  their  mission  to  extend  beyond 
Galilee,   or  even   to  the  whole  of  the   province 
the  Greek-speaking  cities  being  excluded       The 
etlbrts  of  the  Twelve  were  probably  intended  to  be 
restricted  to  the  homes  of  the  people      No  refer^ 
ence  is  made  in  the  instructions  given  them  t«  any 
appearance  in  the  sjtiagogue  or  in  the  market- 


APOSTLES 


APPARITION 


111 


place.  Their  inexperience  did  not  permit  them  to 
deliver  addresses  in  public.  The  Twelve  were  sent 
on  their  mission  by  twos ;  that  is,  .six  different 
enterprises  were  carried  on  by  them  at  once.  The 
wisdom  of  this  arrangement  is  obvious.  It  was 
desirable  that  they  should  overtake  as  many  of 
the  population  as  possible,  but  it  was  not  less 
important  that  they  should  be  encouraged  and 
strengthened  by  one  another's  presence.  Had  each 
of  the  Twelve  entered  on  the  work  alone,  he  would 
have  felt  isolated  and  discouraged,  and  often  have 
been  at  a  loss  how  to  act.  No  agreement  exists 
among  scholars  as  to  the  length  of  time  occupied 
by  the  mission.  Some  consider  that  it  lasted  only 
a  single  day,  others  two  days,  others  several  weeks, 
and  others  again,  several  months.  It  may  be  pro- 
nounced with  confidence  that  it  took  up  some  weeks 
at  least. 

The  Twelve  strictly  followed  the  commands  they 
received,  passing  through  the  villages,  preaching 
repentance  and  the  gospel,  and  casting  out  demons 
and  healing  everywhere.  How  their  message  was 
received  does  not  appear.  It  is  simply  known  that 
on  their  return  they  told  our  Lord  what  they  had 
done  and  taught.  No  reference  is  made  to  the 
experience  they  had  acquired  or  to  the  conclusions 
they  had  been  led  to  form.  It  would  have  been 
most  profitable  had  any  information  on  these 
points  reached  us.  Not  less  advantageous  would 
it  have  been  for  us  to  know  how  they  felt  when 
they  wrought  their  first  miracles.  Were  they 
startled  ?  Did  they  exult  ?  Or  were  they  grateful 
and  humble?  We  can  but  speculate  on  these 
points,  but  we  may  feel  assured  that  the  Apostles 
profited  not  a  little  by  this  their  first  mission. 
Besides  those  lessons  of  confidence  in  the  wisdom 
and  power  of  their  Master  which  they  were  always 
receiving,  they  were  taught  how  to  apply  the 
truths  they  had  learned,  and  how  to  use  the 
powers  OTth  which  they  were  clothed.  They  were 
forced  to  act  for  themselves,  to  reflect  and  decide 
in  a  way  which  elicited  their  latent  capabilities. 

From  this  point  the  education  and  training  of 
the  Apostles  may  be  regarded  as  merged  in  the 
life  of  our  Lord,  and  the  further  treatment  of  the 
subject  must  be  sought  under  the  relevant  articles. 
The  intercourse  between  our  Lord  and  the  Apostles 
should  be  regarded  from  their  side  if  the  work  He 
accomplished  in  their  case  is  to  be  fully  appreci- 
ated and  understood.  To  study  the  life  and  teach- 
ing of  Jesus  through  the  eyes  and  minds  of  the 
Apostles  is  advantageous  in  no  common  degree, 
because  of  the  many  new  questions  which  are  thus 
raised,  and  which  cannot  be  determined  without 
a  clearer  and  fuller  insight  being  obtained  into 
the  wisdom  of  the  methods  He  followed  in  prepar- 
ing them  to  expound  His  thoughts  and  to  extend 
His  kingdom.  A  list  of  some  of  the  more  important 
topics  to  be  considered  may  be  serviceable.  They 
are  such  as  these  :  the  question  put  to  the  Twelve 
at  the  crisis  in  Galilee,  'Will  ye  also  go  away?' 
the  confession  of  Peter,  and  its  significance  for 
the  Apostles ;  the  predictions  of  the  death  and 
resurrection  made,  it  would  appear,  to  the  Apostles 
only ;  the  strife  for  the  first  places  in  the  King- 
dom, and  the  action  taken  by  our  Lord  regarding 
it ;  the  words  spoken  to  the  Apostles  on  the  night 
of  the  betrayal,  some  of  which  form  a  parting 
charge  to  them ;  the  appearances  to  the  Eleven  ; 
the  final  commands  addressed  to  them.  Two  sub- 
jects besides  are  deserving  of  particular  notice: 
the  mner  circle  of  the  Apostles— Peter,  James, 
and  John,  the  Three  within  the  Twelve ;  and  the 
many  questions  connected  with  the  name  of  Judas 
Iscariot. 

The  Christian  Church  rests  on  the  Apostles,  for 
the  Christian  Church  is  their  creation.  But  they, 
in  turn,  were  the  creation  of  Jesus.    That  He  trans- 


formed them  in  so  brief,  a  space  of  time  from  the 
men  they  were  when  called,  as  to  be  able  to  con- 
vince the  world  that  He  was  tlie  Messiah  of  Israel, 
the  Son  of  God,  the  Saviour  of  mankind,  is  not  the 
least  of  His  titles  to  the  admiration  and  the  grati- 
tude of  men  ;  for  His  success  proves  what  can  be 
made  of  ordinary  men  when  they  surrender  them- 
selves to  the  guidance  of  His  spirit. 

Literature. — The  chief  books  to  be  consulted  are  the  Com- 
mentaries on  the  Gospels  and  the  Lives  of  Christ,  together  with 
art.  '  Apostle '  in  the  different  Bible  Dictionaries  and  Encyelo- 
pcedias,  though  the  best  of  these  are  meagre  and  inadequate 
for  the  purposes  of  the  student  of  the  Gospels.  For  a  general 
treatment  two  valuable  works  in  English  should  be  named — 
Bruce's  Training  of  the  Twelve  and  Latham's  Pastor  Pastonim. 
On  the  name  and  office  of  an  Apostle  see  Lightfoot.  Gal.^  92-101 ; 
Hort,  Christian  Ecclesia,  22-41 ;  and  on  the  Apostolic  group, 
Expositor,  I.  i.  [1876]  29-43,  iii.  ix.  11889J 100 if.,  187 «f.,  434  ff. 

W.  Patrick. 
APPARITION.— 

In  AV  this  word  occurs  thrice,  in  the  Apocr.  only :  Wis  173 
(Gr.  :,i,c>.fia,  RV  'spectral  form'),  2  Mac  S^  (Or.  iT,(fi„m,  RV 
'apparition,'  RVm  'manifestation'),  and  54  (Or.  i^sifimx,  RV 
'vision,'  RVm  '  manifestation').  In  RV  it  occurs  thrice  only  : 
Mt  1426  II  Mk  649  ^fi,rxs■^lcl,  AV  'spirit'),  and  2  Mac  S»*  (as 
above). 

The  Revisers  have  used  this  word  in  its  ordinary 
current  sense  of  '  an  immaterial  appearance,  as  of 
a  real  being,  a  spectre,  phantom,  or  ghost.'  There 
is  always  connected  with  this  term  the  idea  of  a 
startling  or  unexpected  appearance,  which  seems 
also  associated  with  the  original  ^duTaa-fia.  The 
immaterial  appearance  of  a  person  supposed  to  be 
seen  before  {double)  or  soon  after  death  {ghost),  is  a 
wraith  ;  but  these  three  synonyms  are  often  inter- 
changed. 

The  Jews  of  Christ's  time,  like  all  unscientific 
minds  (ancient  and  modern),  believed  in  ghosts 
naturally,  instinctively,  uncritically.  Dr.  Swete 
{The  Gospel  according  to  St.  Mark,  London,  1898,  p. 
131)  refers  to  Job  4'=t-  208,  and  especially  to  Wis 
173(4)  and  17"  C^)  for  earlier  evidence  of  a  popular 
belief  in  apparitions  among  the  Hebrew  peojile. 
The  disciples'  sudden  shriek  of  terror  {dp^Kpaiav,  Mk 
6'')  shows  that  they  thought  the  phantom  was  real ; 
but  if  we  try  to  realize  their  attitude  and  outlook, 
we  shall  understand  the  futility  of  attributing 
to  such  naive  intelligences  the  discrimination  of 
modern  p.sychological  research.  The  suggestions 
of  excitable  imaginations  were  indistinguishable 
from  the  actual  presentations  of  objective  reality. 
The  best  illustrations  of  their  habits  of  thought 


Egyptians  did  not  consider  man  as  a  sunpie 
individuality ;  he  consisted  of  at  least  three  parts,  the  body, 
the  soul,  and  the  ghost,  the  image,  the  double,  or  the  genius, 
according  as  we  translate  the  Egyptian  word  Ka.  .  .  .  After 
the  death  of  a  man,  just  as  during  his  lifetime,  the  Ka  was  still 
considered  to  be  the  representative  of  his  human  personality, 
and  so  the  body  had  to  be  preserved  that  the  Ka  might  take 
possession  of  it  when  he  pleased.  ...  It  is  to  their  faith  in  the 
"    '  "'  knowledge  of  the  home  life  of  the 


people  of  ancient  Egypt.' 

E.  J.  W.  Gibb  (History  of  Ottoman  Poetry.  London,  1900,  pp. 
56-59)  says  that  'according  to  the  Sufl  theory  of  the  human 
soul  it  is  a  spirit,  and  therefore,  by  virtue  of  its  own  nature, 
in  reality  a  citizen  of  the  Spirit  World.  Its  true  home  is  there, 
and  hence,  for  a  certain  season,  it  descends  into  this  Physical 
Plane,  where,  to  enable  it  to  act  upon  its  surroundings,  it  is 
clothed  in  a  physical  body.  .  .  .  The  power  of  passing  from  the 
Physical  World  into  the  Spiritual  is  potential  in  every  soul,  but 
is  actualized  only  in  a  few.' 

For  the  mediisval  conception  of  the  nature  of  ghosts  see  the 
locus  classicus — Dante,  Purg.  xxv.  88-108 — in  which  Dante  ex- 
plains his  conception  of  the  disembodied  soul  as  having  the 
power  of  operating  on  matter  and  impressing  upon  the  surround- 
ing  air  the  shape  which  it  animated  m  life  (Aquinas),  thus  form, 
ing  for  itself  an  aerial  vesture  (Origen  and  St.  Augustine).  See 
also  Dante,  Conv.  tr.  ii.  c.  9,  and  Thomas  Aquinas,  Siimma 
TheoL  pt.  iii.  suppl.  qu.  Ixix,  art.  1. 

Keim  {Jesus  of  Nazara,  London,  1879,  iv.  184- 
191)  critically  reviews  the  various  explanations 
offered  of  the  miracle  of  Jesus  walking  over  the 
billows,   but  says  nothing  of  the  word  (pavraaiia. 


112 


APPEAKANCE 


APPRECIATION 


merely  remarking  (p.  190) :  '  If  we  adhere  to  tlie 
actual  narrative,  the  going  on  tlie  water  was  far 
from  being  an  act  of  an  ordinary  character — it  was 
something  divine  or  ghostly.'  For  the  latest  criti- 
cism of  the  popular  belief  of  NT  times  in  the 
manifestations  of  tlie  spirit  world,  see  P.  Wernle, 
Beginnings  of  Christiatiity,  London,  1903,  pp.  1-11. 
P.  Henderson  Aitken. 
APPEARANCE.    See  Christ  in  Art,  and  Por- 


APPEARANCES.— See  Resurrection. 

APPRECIATION  (of  Christ).— The  whole  NT 
is  one  long  appreciation  of  Christ.  It  is  no  blind- 
fold acceptance  of  Him,  no  mere  echo  of  a  tradition, 
but  a  series  of  utterances  of  men  personally  con- 
vinced of  the  supreme  value  of  Christ  to  the  world. 
St.  Paul  speaks  of  Christ  only  as  he  himself  has 
been  influenced  by  the  Lord,  not  a<;  tlie  disciples 
had  described  Jesus  to  him.  Hi-  pin  ii- —high, 
beautiful,  and  so  often  mysti.  al  -  ai.'  ili'  direct 
expressions  of  his  own  perMnial  i  (■ii-cinu-ness  of 
Jesus  Christ.  No  one  has  :u(  u-id  him  of  e.\tra- 
vagance  or  of  e.xaggeratiuii.  It  is  because  he  has 
felt  that  to  be  clothed  with  the  Lend  must  he  the 
perfection  of  power  and  joy,  that  he  says,  '  Put  ye 
on  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ'  (Ko  13").  It  is  because 
he  has  seen  the  love  eternal  that  nothing  imagin- 
able can  utterly  root  out  again  from  the  awakened 
lieart,  that  be  says,  '  Neither  death,  nor  life,  .  .  . 
nor  any  other  creation,  shall  be  able  to  separate  us 
from  the  love  of  God,  which  is  in  Christ  Jesus  our 
Lord '  ( Ro  8»"- ).  And  St.  John  opens  his  first  Epistle 
with  the  strongest  personal  declaration  of  the  whole 
of  the  Epistles,  '  that  which  we  have  heard,  .  .  . 
seen  with  our  eyes,  .  .  .  and  our  hands  have 
handled  of  the  word  of  life  .  .  .  declare  we  unto 
you'(lJnl'). 

But  the  simplest  appreciation  of  all — as  natural 
as  a  bird's  song  or  a  child's  praise— is  that  which 
threads  its  way  through  every  page  of  the  Gospels. 
Inspite  of  all  the  enmity  written  there ;  remembering 
that  tliere  were  those  who  saw  in  Him  an  ally  of 
Beelzebub  (Mt  12-'<),  working  with  the  de\  ils  aid  ; 
that  some  called  Him  'a  gluttonous  man,  a  wine- 
bibber,  friend  of  publicans  and  sinners'  (11'"); 
that  lawyers,  and  Pharisees,  and  Sadducees  were 
ever  watching  to  trip  Him  (•2"2''),  and  plottin"  with 
Herodians  (v.'*)  to  destroy  Him  ;  that  the  Galikean 
cities,  which  should  have  known  Him  best, — 
Chorazin,  Bethsaida,  Capernaum  (II-'' ^),  and  even 
Nazareth, — rejected  Him  (Lk  4^'-) ;  and  remem- 
bering the  awful  and  lonely  agonies  of  the  last 
hours,  we  can  yet  point  to  the  Gospels  as  abounding 
with  witness  to  the  wide  contemporary  apprecia- 
tion of  Christ. 

It  was  most  natural  that  it  should  be  so,  even 
when  He  is  thouglit  of  entirely  apart  from  any 
doctrine  of  His  Divine  personality.  His  own 
S3'mpathy  for  others,  and  indeed  for  all  things, 
was  sure  to  attract  others  to  Him.  His  quick 
perception  of  the  good  in  all.  His  tender  response 
to  the  least  wave  of  the  world's  infinite  music, 
show  Him  as  destined  to  be  the  desired  of  men. 
He  came  upon  the  most  diverse  types,  the  most 
opposite  of  characters,  and  instantly  knew  their 
IJossibUities  and  their  worth.  He  sees  through 
the  pure-minded  hesitancy  of  Nathanael  (Jn  1^'), 
He  recognizes  the  true  value  of  the  widow's 
mite  (Lk  21 '•''),  He  draws  Nicodemus  the 
timid  to  Him  (Jn  3Mi  He  knows  what  will 
satisfy  Thomas  (Jn  20='),  and  what  will  please 
and  win  Zacchseus  (Lk  19=) ;  ami  His  iniuicaiatr 
followers  include  a  Mary  Ma:j.lalini'  as  nmU  as  ;( 
Mary  of  Bethany,  a  Judas  a-  \mI1  a-  a  .lohii. 
Even  the  failures  are  appreciated  l>y  a  stamlar.l 
of  faith  unknown  to  the  world.     He  acknowledges 


ting 

such  deep  and  ready  sympathy.     And,  as  we  read 
the  Evangelists,  one  of  their  most  notable  traits 


the  longing  of  the  heart  though  a  weak  will  robs 
it  of  fruition ;  He  reads  the  zealous  attection  of 
Peter  between  the  lines  of  a  moment's  Satanic 
pride  (Mt  16--),  or  a  terror-stricken  denial  (Mt  26™) ; 
He  penetrates  to  the  secret  yearnings  behind  the 
materialistic  questions  of  the  woman  at  the  well, 
and  imparts  to  her  His  highest  thouglit  of  God 
(Jn  4=*).  He  cannot  even  look  upon  the  earth  or 
sky  but  He  must  read  into  it  the  indwelling  of  the 
Eternal,  find  in  all  its  pages  picture  and  parable 
of  spiritual  realities.  To  His  all-sensitive  being 
the  universe  of  things  seen  is  but  a  symbol.  The 
sower  with  his  seed,  the  harvest-fields,  the  birds 
of  the  air,  the  fox  in  his  hole,  the  sheep  in  the 
fold  or  lost  on  the  hills,  the  wind  that  foretells 
heat  or  rain  (Lk  12"- ^),  the  prophecies  of  the 
sunset  (Mt  16=),  or  the  springtide  promise  of  the 
sprouting  fig-tree  (Mk  13=*),— all  passin";  through 
His  appreciative  spirit  is  treasured  as  tne  visible 
manuscript  of  God. 

We  might  expect  that  such  a  receptive,  com- 
prehensive, and  understanding  nature  would 
pel  confidence.  Men  could  not  help  trustin 
ipathy.  '  ' 
their  n 
this— that  they  succeed  in  bringing  together, 
almost  without  form,  and  apparently  without 
intention,  a  wonderful  accumulation  of  witness 
to  the  appreciation  Jesus  inspired  from  the  first. 
The  record  is  so  varied.  It  is  from  no  one  school, 
or  type,  or  rank.  Almost  every  grade  of  life  in 
the  community  is  there— from  the  outcast  and  the 
leper  to  the  Sanhedrist  and  the  Roman  centurion. 
From  the  first  His  gifts  of  liealing  attract  the 
sutterers,  and  none  are  more  dehnite  in  their 
acknowledgment  of  Him.  The  villagers  bring 
their  sick  on  beds  to  the  market-places  (Mk  6*-*), 
or  lower  the  palsied  through  the  roof  at  Capernaum 
(Mk^*).  The  centurion  in  that  town  is  satisfied 
that  a  word  from  Jesus  will  be  enough  to  heal  his 
sick  servant  (Mt  8»).  Martha  says,  with  such 
simple  trust,  '  Lord,  if  thou  hadst  been  here,  my 
brother  liad  not  died'  (Jn  11=').  The  ruler  of  the 
synagogue  feels  that  the  touch  of  the  Lord's  hand 
would  be  enough  to  heal  his  dying  daughter 
(Mt  9'8).  The  woman  with  the  issue  of  blood 
would  but  touch  the  hem  of  His  garment  to  be 
cured  (Mk  5^).  The  Syro-Phoenician  woman  per- 
sisted in  her  prayer  for  her  sick  daughter,  eagerly 
claiming  the  rights,  while  bearing  the  reproacn 
of  being  a  Gentile  'do<''  (Mk  7=*).  With  one  cry 
is  He  greeted  alike  by  blind  Bartiniajus  (Mk  10^'), 
the  two  blind  men  (Mt  9='),  and  the  ten  lepers 
(Lk  17")— 'Jesus,  thou  Son  of  David,  have  mercy 
on  us ' ;  a  cry  the  meaning  of  which  is  uttered  by 
the  leper  (Mk  l'") — 'Lord,  if  thou  wilt,  thou  canst 
make  nie  clean.'  When  siglit  is  given  to  the  man 
bom  blind,  the  parents  testify  to  tlie  Divine  origin 
of  the  power  that  has  been  exerciseil  (Jn  9^).  And 
the  multitude  at  Nain,  when  they  saw  the  dead 
raised,  had  no  liesitation  in  crying— 'A  great 
prophet  is  risen  among  us'  (Lk  7"*).  It  was  a 
glad  welcome  from  the  suflerers  and  their  friends 
that  greeted  Jesus  as  the  manifestation  of  God 
in  all  these  things.  But  not  less  earnest  is  the 
witness  of  the  crowds  to  the  popular  estimate  of 
the  teacher.  'There  went  <^ieat  multitudes  with 
him'  is  the  frequent  note  that  kads  up  to  some 
great  doctrine  of  life  (Mt  l!i-,  Lk  14-^  M k  G).  The 
house  filled  at  Capernaum  (Mk  2-)  is  but  the  parallel 
of  the  occasion  when  His  own  mother  '  could  not 
come  at  him  for  the  press'  (Lk  8'"),  or  of  the 
thousands  by  the  seasliore  (Mk  4'),  or  of  the 
multitude  that 'trod  one  upon  another'  (Lk  12'). 
I.i\.-,  that  He  changes  from  ilaikuess  to  light 
\<'-.n  «illin"  evidence  to  His  power  and  charm: 
-Mary  Magdalene  will  not  lie  held  hack  by  false 
shame    from    entering    the    Pharisee's    house    to 


ARAMAIC 


ARCHELAUS 


113 


acknowledge  her  Saviour  (Lk  1^^-^),  nor  be  re- 
pulsed by  the  charge  of  wastefulness  through 
sentiment  (Mk  14^);  and  Zacchteus  will  boldly 
profess  a  jjractical  conversion  before  those  who 
know  him  intimately  (Lk  19'). 

We  look  for  appreciation  from  His  nearest 
disciples,  a  quick  obedience,  a  joy  that  has  no 
place  for  fasting  (Mk  2"),  the  mother's  confidence 
at  the  marriage-feast  at  Cana  (Jn  2*),  the  great 
utterances  of  His  forerunner  the  Baptist  (Jn  P"  3^"), 
the  exalted  vision  of  the  Transfiguration  (Mk  S^), 
and  that  Petrine  outburst,  repeated  by  all,  as  they 
neared  Gethsemane — '  If  I  should  die  with  thee, 
I  will  not  deny  thee.'  From  these  His  intimates 
■we  anticipate  such  trust.  We  look  for  it,  too, 
from  the  band  of  holy  women — Joanna,  Susanna, 
Salome,  the  Marys,  and  those  'who  ministered 
unto  him  of  their  substance'  (Lk  8^).  But  beyond 
these  we  have  the  scribes  (Mt  8'",  ]Mk  12")  ear- 
nestly approaching  Him,  Pliarisees  inviting  Him 
to  their  houses  (Lk  IP'  14') ;  we  have  the  confes- 
sion of  the  council  of  priests  and  Pharisees— '  If 
we  let  him  alone,  all  will  believe  on  him'  (Jn  IP*) ; 
we  have  the  acknowledgment  of  Samaritans,  con- 
vinced not  by  hearsay  but  by  personal  knowledge 
(Jn  i*'-),  of  centurions  (Mt  8=-",  Mk  15™),  and  of 
the  rich  young  man  'running  and  kneeling'  and 
saying,  'Good  Master  '  (Mk  10").  Strangers  seek 
Him  out — '  Sir,  we  would  see  Jesus '  ( Jn  12-") ;  and 
the  common  people  of  His  own  race  'heard  him 
gladly'  (Mk  12='),  and  acclaimed  His  entry  into 
Jerusalem  (Mk  IP"'").  In  the  beginning,  shep- 
herds and  magi,  angels  and  stars  bear  witness 
to  the  newborn  King ;  so  that  to  the  last  it  is 
a  strange  mi.xed  company,  that  seems  to  include 
(by  his  long  faltering  before  judgment)  Pilate 
himself,  the  lone,  mysterious  figure  of  Joseph  of 
Arimathaea,  and  Nicodemus  '  bringing  myrrh  and 
aloes '(Jn  19»). 

Tliis  many-sided  appreciation  of  our  Lord  in  His 
own  day,  in  addition  to  its  obvious  gain  to  the 
Christian  preacher,  is  suggestive  of  the  many 
ditt'ering  points  of  view  from  which  men  may  rever- 
ently regard  Christ,  each  one  expressive  of  a  truth, 
though  not  the  entirety  of  the  truth.  And  it  may 
also  indicate  the  many  successive  ways  of  wonder, 
repentance,  sympathy,  and  vision  in  which  Christ 
speaks  to  each  individual  soul. 

Edgar  Daplvn. 

ARAMAIC— See  Language. 

ARBITRATION.— The  settlement  of  disputes  by 
the  acceptance  of  the  judgment  of  a  third  party 
supposed  to  be  impartial.  The  arrangement  may 
be  purely  private,  or  in  accordance  with  special 
statute ;  the  application  is  multifarious.  Some 
method  of  settlement  by  umpires  is  as  old  as  civil 
government.  In  Job  9^^  the  '  daysman '  is  perfectly 
described.  The  Greek  term  {nealn,s)  translated 
'mediator'  (or  middleman)  has  the  same  meaning; 
though  as  applied,  in  the  NT,  to  Moses  and  to 
Christ  (Gal  3»-  =»,  1  Ti  2»,  He  8«  9"!  12=-').  as  standing 
between  man  and  God  (cf.  Dt  5°),  it  belongs  to  an 
essentially  dift'erent  order  of  ideas,  inasmuch  as 
God  is  not  man.  The  complexity  of  modern  life 
has  multiplied  the  occasions  ;  but  the  most  import- 
ant recent  advance  has  been  the  application  to 
international  ditterences.  Thereby  questions  such 
as  have  often  led  to  wars  become  capable  of 
amicable  settlement.  The  first  notable  instance 
was  the  Geneva  arbitration  under  the  Washington 
Treaty  (1871)  in  the  Alabama  Question.  The 
principle,  then  disputed,  has  now  found  universal 
acceptance.  Treaties  of  arbitration  already  exist 
or  are  being  negotiated  between  most  nations  that 
have  mutual  relations.  And  in  the  future,  except 
where  ambitions  and  strong  passions  are  involved, 
this  means  of  agreement  will  he  largely  resorted  to. 
VOL.  I.-  8 


The  idea  is  based  on  tlie  acknowledgment  of  the 
identity  of  moral  law  in  the  two  spheres  of  indi- 
vidual and  national  life.  Duty  for  persons  or 
communities  or  nations  is  one.  There  is  no  valid 
distinction  of  private  and  pulilic  right;  the  code 
of  ethics  tli;it  1-  liiiKiiTii;  ti.r  the  private  individual 
i.s  e(iu:illy  oKliuutinv  'Hi  Iviii.us  and  tlie  representa- 
ti\cs  (il  |M'(j|,lr.-,.  I'lu-^  (Iw.triiK-  is  opposed  to  the 
long  histury  of  .-jtatcn;!  1 1 .  I  n  ( h,.  mn  xinisof  diploma- 
tists, and  to  the  passi.iM,  ..1  dr  |„,ii^iii.  But  few 
now  openly  deny  its  tiutli;  .in. I  tin'  urknowledg- 
ments  ah'eady  made  in  (ir.iiics  of  arbitration 
majf  be  reckoned  one  ol  the  grcate.'it  triumphs  of 
Christian  civilization. 

The  principle  may  be  said  to  be  based  on  the 
Golden  Rule  (Mt  7'-,  Lk  6='),  which  teaches  recipro- 
cal obligation,  or  on  the  kindred  command  to  love 
our  neighbours  as  ourselves  (Mt  22^'',  Mk  12"). 
These  fundamental  laws  are  gi\en  as  the  sum  of 
practical  duty.  They  condenni  the  egoistic  atti- 
tude. They  teach  us  to  regard  the  position  of 
others  with  full  sympathy,  to  seek  an  impartial 
standpoint,  and  to  make  the  individual  will  har- 
monize with  the  general  mind.  The  principle  of 
arbitration  is  also  an  illustration  of  tlie  grace  of 
peaceableness.  '  Blessed  are  the  peacemakers ' 
(Mt  5").  This  truth  finds  full  expression  in  the 
Epistles,  where  peace,  the  fruit  of  the  Spirit  (Gal 
5^-),  and  the  concomitant  of  righteousness,  is  con- 
trasted with  the  strife  and  envy  of  sin,  and  is 
noted  as  a  mark  of  the  kingdom  of  God,  who  is 
the  God  of  peace.  Once  more,  the  principle  may 
be  based  on  prudence ;  for  a  willing  settlement 
may  prevent  a  legal  defeat,  or  even  a  worse  dis- 
aster (iMt  5-=-  =»,  Lk  lo5s.6u^  cf_  pr  958.9). 

Christ  declined  on  one  occasion  to  be  an  arbiter 
(Lk  12"f-).  He  was  addressing  the  multitude,  when 
one  of  them  said,  '  Master,  bid  my  brother  divide 
the  inheritance  with  me.'  Jesus  re[)lied,  'Man, 
who  made  me  a  judge  (xpir^j',  so  BDL  and  the 
crit.  edd.  ;  TR  has  SmaiXTriv)  or  a  divider  [ixepiaHiv, 
only  here  in  NT)  over  you?'  The  words  which 
follow  (v.'^f-)  show  that  Jesus  knew  that  this  man 
was  moved  by  covetousness ;  but  apart  from  His 
censure  of  a  wrong  motive.  He  here  affirms  that  it 
was  no  business  of  His  to  arbitrate  between  men. 
He  would  not  interfere  in  civil  disputes  which  fell 
properly  to  be  decided  by  the  regular  law  (cf.  Dt 
21").  But  His  saying  goes  far  beyond  the  sphere 
of  jurisprudence.  Clirist  lays  down  universal  laws 
of  justice  and  love,  but  does  not  apply  them. 
Moral  casuistry  was  no  part  of  His  mission,  and 
decisions  of  the  kind  this  man  wanted  could  only 
have  weakened  the  sense  of  i)ersonal  responsibility, 
and  hindered  the  growth  of  those  spiritual  dis- 
positions it  was  His  chief  aim  to  create. 

R.  SCOTT. 

ARCHELAUS  ('A/,xAaos)  is  named  once  in  the  NT 
(Mt  2--),  and  probably  is  referred  to  in  the  parable 
of  the  Pounds  (Lk  W-«-).  He  was  tlie  elder  of  the 
two  sons  of  Herod  the  Great  by  Malthace,  a  Sam- 
aritan woman  (Jos.  BJ  I.  xxviii.  4,  xxxiii.  7). 
Judoea,  with  the  title  of  '  king,'  was  bequeathed 
to  him  by  his  father's  will ;  but  he  would  not 
assume  the  royal  dignity  till  he  had  obtained  con- 
firmation of  that  will  from  the  emperor  Augustus 
{Ant.  XVII.  viii.  2-4).  Before  his  departure  to 
Rome  a  rebellion  broke  out  in  Jerusalem  ;  and 
in  quelling  it  his  soldiers  put  three  thousand  men 
to  death,  among  whom  were  pilgrims  visiting  the 
Holy  City  for  the  passover  («5.  XVII.  ix.  3).  Thus 
at  the  beginning  of  his  reign  an  evil  reputation 
was  gained  by  Archelaus,  and  the  alarm  of  Joseph 
may  be  understood  {'But  when  he  heard  tliat 
A  rchclaus  did  rcitjii  in  Judwa  in  the  room  of  his 
father  Hrrod,  he  ims  afraid  to  go  thither '). 

After  the  rebellion,  Archelaus  proceeded  to  Rome 
{Ant.  XVII.  ix.  3-7,  cf.  Lk  19'=).    Augustus,  dealing 


114 


ARIJIATH^A 


ARISTION  (AEISTO) 


with  Herod's  will,  received  a  deputation  from  tlie 
people  of  Judiea,  -who  begged  that  neither  Arche- 
laus  nor  any  of  his  brothers  should  be  appointed 
king  (cf.  Lfc  19'*).  The  emperor  finally  decided 
that  Archelaus  should  receive  Juda-a,  Samaria, 
and  Idumsea,  -with  the  title  not  of  'king,'  but  of 
'ethnarch'  {Ant.  XVII.  xi.  1-4;  BJ  II.  vi.  3).  On 
his  return  from  Rome  the  ethnarch  sought  ven- 
geance against  his  enemies  (cf.  Lk  19^)  in  Judsea 
and  Samaria.  In  the  ninth  or  tenth  year  of  his 
reign,  after  many  acts  of  tyranny  and  violence, 
he  was  banished  by  the  emperor  to  Vienne  in 
Gaul  (Ant.  xvil.  xiii.  2).  According  to  Jerome, 
the  tomb  of  Archelaus  was  pointed  out  near 
Bethlehem  {fie  Situ,  et  Nomin.  Loc.  Hebraic.  101. 
11). 

LrrsRATUKE. — Josephus,  Antiquities  oftheJews,  Warsofthe 
Jews  [BJ],  as  cited  above ;  references  s.  'Archelaus'  in  Index 
to  Schurer's  Geschichte  des  Jiidischen  Votkes  im  Zeitalter  Jesu 
Chrieti,  1898-1901  (Eng.  tr.  of  2nd  ed.  1885-901 ;  and  Hausrath's 
SeutestamcntUche  Zeitgeschidite,  1873-77  [Eng.  tr.  in  2  vols. 


lished  i 


I  3rd  ed. 


1 1879. 


£RIMATH.S;A  {'Api/iaBaia)  is  mentioned  in  Mt 
27=',  Mk  15«,  Lk  23»,  and  Jn  19»  as  the  place 
from  which  Joseph,  who  buried  the  body  of  Jesus, 
came  up  to  Jerusalem.  In  the  Ono)nastieon  (225.  12) 
it  is  identified  with  'kpiiaBin  2ei0d  (Kamathaim- 
zophim*),  the  city  of  Elkanah  and  Samuel  (I  S  1'), 
near  Diospolis  (Lydda)  and  in  the  district  of 
Timnah  (Tibneh).  In  1  Mac  ll^*,  Ramathem  is 
referred  to  along  with  Aphsrema  and  Lydda  as  a 
Samaritan  toparchy  transferred,  in  145  B.C.,  to 
Judasa.  These  notices  of  Ramathaim  point  to 
BeitJRima,  13  miles  E.N.E.  of  Lydda,  and  2  miles 
N.  of  Timnah,— an  identification  adopted  by  G.  A. 
Smith  (HGHL  254  n.  7)  and  Buhl  [GAP  170). 
Another  possible  site  is  R&m-aUah,  3  miles  S.W.  of 
Bethel,  suggested  by  Ewald  (Hist.  ii.  421).  The 
proposed  sites  S.  of  Jerusalem  are  not  '  in  the  hill- 
country  of  Ephraim '  (1  S  P).  If  Arimatha'a,  then, 
be  identified  with  the  Ramathaim  of  Elkanah,  it 
may  weU  be  at  the  modern  hill-village  of  Brit- 
Rima.  The  LXX  form  of  Ramathaim  \a' Apixadaiix 
(ISP  and  elsewhere),  thus  providing  a  link  be- 
tween Ramathaim  and  Arimathsea. 

A.  W.  Cooke. 

ARISTEAS  (Letter  of).— This  interesting  piece 
of  fiction  may  lind  a  place  in  this  Dictionary, 
because  it  gives  the  first  account  of  that  work 
which  more  tlian  any  other  paved  the  way  of  the 
gospel  in  early  times,  namely,  the  Greek  trans- 
lation of  the  OT,  the  so-called  Septuagint.  There 
is  no  agreement  as  yet  about  either  the  age  or  the 
aim  of  this  composition.  That  it  is  a  fiction  is 
now  generally  admitted.  The  author  pretends  to 
have  been  one  of  the  two  ambassadors — Andreas, 
dpxi<ru/iaTO(/>i/\a|  of  the  king,  being  the  other— sent 
by  king  Ptolemoeus  Philadelphus  to  the  high  priest 
Eleazar  of  Jerusalem  in  order  to  get  for  him  a  copy 
of  the  Law,  and  men  to  translate  it  for  the  Royal 
Library  at  Alexandria.  The  letter  gives  a  long 
description  of  the  gifts  sent  by  Philadelphus  to 
Jerusalem,  of  the  city,  its  temple  and  the  religious 
customs  of  the  Jews,  and  of  the  table-talk  between 
the  king  and  each  of  the  72  interpreters.  When 
the  work  was  finished,  a  solenm  curse  was  de- 
nounced on  any  one  who  should  change  anything 
in  it  (cf.  Dt  4=,  'Rev  22'8-i9).  Schiirer,  I.  Abrahams, 
and  others  fix  the  date  about  B.C.  200  ;  Herriot  (on 
Philo)  dates  it  170-150 ;  Wellhausen  (Isr.  tind  Jiid. 
Gesch."  1897,  p.  232)  in  the  1st  cent.  B.C.  (but  in 
4th  ed.  1901,  p.  236,  he  assims  it  to  the  2nd  cent.) ; 
Wendland,  between  96  and  63,t  nearer  to  96 ;  L. 

•  On  this  name  (which  is  almost  certainly  based  on  a  textual 
corruption),  see  Hastings'  DD,  vol.  iv.  p.  IflSa  note, 
f  In  Hastings'  DB  iv.  43S'',  line  7  from  bottom  of  text,  read 


Cohn  doubts  whether  it  was  known  to  Philo ; 
Graetz  placed  it  in  the  reign  of  Tiberius,  and 
Willrich  (Judaica,  1900,  pp.  111-130)  brings  its 
composition  down  to  'later  than  A.D.  33.'  Lom- 
broso  was  the  first  to  show  that  the  'author  was 
well  acquainted  with  the  details  of  court  life  in 
the  times  of  the  Ptolemies ' ;  and  recent  researches 
have  confirmed  this  ;  on  the  other  hand,  there  are 
interesting  connexions  with  the  Greek  of  the  NT  ; 
compare  KarapoXri  used  absolutely  for  '  creation ' 
(Mt  13^5  and  Aristeas,  §  129  [a  usage  apparently 
unknown  to  Hort  ad  1  P  1-",  and  Swete,  Introd. 
p.  397]);  avaTarreaBai  (Lk  1'  and  Aristeas,  §  144; 
Mt  6''- '2  and  Aristeas,  §  140,  etc.). 

While  Jerome  had  already  called  attention  to 
the  fact  that  Aristeas  speaks  only  of  the  Law  as 
having  been  translated  by  the  72  interpreters,  in 
later  times  it  became  customary  to  consider  the 
whole  Greek  OT  as  the  work  of  the  '  Septuagint.' 
Philo  seems  to  follow  a  somewhat  different  tradi- 
tion, and  mentions  that  in  his  days  the  Jews  of 
Alexandria  kept  an  annual  festival  in  honour  of 
the  spot  where  the  light  of  this  translation  first 
shone  forth,  thanking  God  for  an  old  but  ever  new 
benefit.  He  is  sure  that  God  heard  the  prayer  of 
the  translators  '  that  the  greater  part  of  mankind, 
or  even  the  whole  of  it,  may  profit  by  their  work, 
when  men  shall  use  philosophical  and  excellent 
ordinances  for  remlating  their  lives.' 

On  the  use  made  of  the  Greek  OT  in  the  NT  see 
Swete,  pp.  381-405,  '  Quotations  from  the  LXX  in 
the  NT.'  That  Jesus  Himself  was  acquainted 
with  it  would  seem  to  follow  from  the  quotation  in 
Mt  15^= Mk  7'.  For  the  words  (iaTT|v  5^  aipovral  /if 
are  the  Septuagint  rendering  of  the  Hebrew  '.ipi 
cnx-n:,  which  rendering  rests  on  a  confusing  of  the 
first  word  with  Mh;  (noticed  already  by  Grotius). 
But  it  is  doubtful  whether  we  are  entitled  to  ex- 
pect in  our  Greek  Gospels  such  a  verbatim  rejiort 
of  the  words  of  Jesus. 

On  the  influence  of  the  Septuagint  on  the  spread 
of  the  Gospel,  cf.  (in  addition  to  older  works  like 
Grinfield,  Oikonomos,  etc.)  Alfred  Deissmann,  'Die 
Hellenisierung  des  semitischen  JNIonotheismus,' 
Leipzig,  1903  (reprinted  from  Neue  Jahrbiicher  fiir 
das  klassische  Altcrtum,  1903). 

LtTERATURE.— The  Letter  of  Aristeas  was  first  published  in 
Latin  (Rome,  1471  fol.)  in  the  famous  Latin  Bible  of  Sueynheim 
and  Fannartz;  first  edition  of  the  Greek  text  b,\'  Simon  Schard, 
Basle,  1561 ;  all  subsequent  editions  suyierseded  by  that  of 
(Mendelssohn-)  Wendland  (Lipsiae,  Teubner,  1900),  and  that  of 
H.  St.  J.  Thackeray  in  H.  B.  Swete's  Introduction  to  the  OT  in 
Greek  (Cambridge,  1900,  2nd  ed.  1902).  English  translations  by 
J.  Done,  1633  and  1685;  Lewis,  1715;  Whiston  (Authentic 
Records,  i.  423-584),  1727 ;  recently  by  Thackeray  (JQlt  xv., 
April  190.3).  Compare,  further,  Abrahams, '  Recent  Criticism  on 
the  Letter  of  Ansteas"  (ib.  xiv.  321-342);  iht-  works  on  the 
Septuagint  (Swete,  I.e.;  Nestle  in  Hastings'  OB  iv.);  Kried- 
lander,  Geschichte  der  jUdiichen  Apologetik  (.Znrwh,  I'.iOiJ). 

Eb.  Nestle. 

ARISTION  (ARISTO).  — One  of  the  principal 
authorities  from  whom  Papias  derived  (written?) 
'narratives  of  the  sayings  of  the  Lord'  {tu>i>  toO 
Kvpiov  X&ywf  Siriyriaeis ;  cl  Lk  1'),  and  (indirectly) 
oral  traditions. 

1.  Importance  and  Difficulty  of  Identification. — 
According  to  Eusebius  (HE  iii.  39),  Papias  of  Hier- 
apolis  in  his  five  books  of  Interpretations  (var.  I. 
Interpretation)  o/  the  Lord's  Oracles  '  referred  fre- 
quently by  name '  to  '  Aristion  and  the  Elder  John ' 
as  his  authorities.  From  the  Preface  {wpool/j.ioi') 
Eusebius  cited  the  following  sentence  to  prove  that 
IreniEus  had  misunderstooa  Papias  in  taking  him 
to  refer  to  the  Apostle  John  as  his  authority, 
whereas  the  '  John  '  in  question  was  not  the  '  dis- 
ciple of  the  Lord,'  but  a  comparatively  obscure 
'  Elder.'  We  abridge  the  sentence,  but  give  the 
relevant  variants :  el  5^  tov  Kal  irapriKokovQriKws  tls 
Tots  TpKT^VTipOlS  l\8oi,  TOVS  TWK  TTpea^irripuiv  iviKpivov 
Xo-yoi'S'   Ti  'kvSpiai  t)  ri  lUrpos  u-rrtv  .   ,   .  ij  ns  irtpos 


ARISTION  (ARISTO) 


ARISTION  (ARISTO) 


115 


TUiv  rod  Kvpiov  fxad-qTuitf^  are  ApLffriuv  /cat  6  wpea^uTepo' 
'loidvvrji  oi  ToO  Kvplov  iiaSriTai  Xiyoiviv. 

For  'Apiffftc^v  Syr.  and  Arm.  read  'Apto-Tu-^,  and  omit  the  clause 
»;  Toy  Kupio'j  pLx9-/iTKi  \iyoutrtv.  Arm.  hy  compensation  rendering 
'  Aristo  and  John  the  Elders.'  Nicephorus  (,UE  ii.  46,  but  not 
iii.  20)  inakes  the  same  omission.  Rufinus  renders  ceterique 
di^cipuli  dicebant.  Jerome  changes  the  tense  {lofivicbantur). 
Four  Greek  MSS  and  Niceph.  (iii.  20)  omit  ol 

Deferring  the  question  of  the  significance  of  the 
variant  reading.s,  it  is  apparent  that '  Aristion  and 
the  Elder  John'  are  in  several  ways  placed  in  con- 
trast with  the  gronp  of  '  disciples  of  the  Lord '  men- 
tioned immediately  before,  by  whom  Papias  cer- 
tainly means  the  twelve  Apostles,  enumerating 
seven  (including  James  the  Lord's  brother  ;  cf.  Gal 
219  2^),  from  Andrew  to  'John  (author  of  the 
Revelation)  and  AL-itthew'  (autlior  of  the  Logia). 
The  designation  nae-qral  instead  of  air6aTo\oi.  is  em- 
ployed because  the  function  in  consideration  is  that 
of  transmitting  iJ.a6iiij.aTa.  —  the  precepts  {4vTo\ai) 
learned  from  tlie  Lord.  The  disciples  (including 
James)  of  the  Lord  Himself  are  the  first  generation 
of  tracUtores.  The  group  next  mentioned,  'Aris- 
tion and  the  Elder  John,'  are  distinguished  ex- 
pressly and  implicitly  as  belonging  to  a  .subsequent 
generation. 

(1)  As  Eusebius  points  out,  the  John  spoken  of 
in  connexion  with  Aristion  is  (a)  '  mentioned  after 
an  interval,'  (b)  'classed  with  others  outside  the 
number  of  the  Aiiostles,'  (c)  has  'Aristion  men- 
tioned before  him,'  (d)  is  'distinctly  called  an 
Elder' (in  contrast  with  the  Jolin  mentioned  just 
before,  who  is  called  a  '  disciple  of  the  Lord ').  No- 
where in  the  context  should  the  term  '  Elder '  be 
taken  as  =  'Apostle.' 

(2)  A  distinction  not  referred  to  by  Eusebius,  but 
at  least  equally  important,  is  the  contrast  of  tense 
(disregarded  by  Rulinus  and  Jerome),  whereby 
Papias  makes  it  apparent  that  at  the  time  of  his 
inquiries  the  Apostles,  including  John,  were  dead ; 
whereas  Aristion  and  the  Elder  John  were  living. 
He  '  used  to  inquire  of  those  who  came  his  way 
what  had  been  said  (rt  tlTr^v)  by  Andrew,  Peter, 
Philip,  Thomas,  James,  John  or  Matthew,  or  any 
other  of  the  Lord's  disciples  ;  as  well  as  what  was 
hcinri  said  (arc  Xiyoimv)  by  Aristion  and  the  Elder 
John.'  Hence,  as  an  authority  of  note,  and  a  trans- 
mitter of  Gospel  traditions  earlier  than  tlie  time  of 
Papias'  writing  (A. D.  145-160),  Aristion  is  a  witness 
of  the  first  importance  for  the  history  of  Gospel 
tradition.  On  the  other  hand,  great  difficulty  and 
dispute  are  caused  by  the  descriptive  clause  attached 
in  most  texts  to  his  name  and  that  of  John  the 
Elder,  because  it  is  identical  Avith  that  by  which 
the  Apostles  are  appropriately  designated  as  tmdi- 
torcs  of  the  first  generation  ;  whereas  the  distinc- 
tions already  noted,  especially  the  contrast  of  tense 
Ti  elirei'S.Te  Xiyovuiv,  make  it  certain  that  Papias 
did  not  regard  Aristion  and  the  Elder  John  as  be- 
longing to  this  group.  For  Lightfoot's  proposal 
{Essays  OH  Sup.  Ed.  p.  150,  n.  3)  to  regard  \^yov(7iv 
as  I  a  historical  present  introduced  for  the  sake  of 
variety,'  is  confessedly  advanced  only  to  escape 
the  '  chronological  difficulty '  of  supjiosing  two 
'disciples  of  the  Lord'  still  living  at  the  time  of 
Papias'  inquiries.     It  is  certainly  inadmissible. 

The  Armenian  version  makes  a  natural  inference 
when  it  forms  the  second  group  by  reading  '  Aristo 
and  John  the  Elders.'  But  the  change  is  clearly 
arbitrary.  Papias  applies  the  title  'the  Elder' 
only  to  '  John '  to  distinguish  him  from  the  Apostle. 
It  was  doubtless  applicable  to  Aristion  as  well 
(Conybeare,  Expositor,  1893,  p.  248,  against  Hilgen- 
feld,  Ztschr.  f.  luUsenschaft.  Thcol.  xxxvii.  1894,  p. 
626),  but  was  superfluous.  The  exegesis  suggested 
above  (Weiffenbach,  Corssen,  et  al.)  removes  all 
difficulty  by  rendering  roiis  tCjv  irp.  aviKptvov  \6yov! 
as  an  ellipsis  :  '  I  would  inquire  the  utterances  of 


.     .  .„/  - ^"  >"  Peter  .  .  . 

had  said,'  because  '  Elder  '  is  then  used  consistently 
throughout  the  paragraph  for  traditor  of  the  post- 
Apostolic  generation  (cf.  Ac.  15--  ■*■  "  21"*  ancl  the 
Heb.  ipi),  thouijh  it  is  not  relied  on  (as  in  Arm.)  to 
make  tlie  distinction  of  the  Apostolic  from  the 
liost-Apostolic  generation,  but  only  of  the  two 
homonymous  individuals,  John  the  Apostle  and 
John  the  Elder. 

On  this  interpretation,  Aristion  and  John  were 
members  of  the  group  which  perpetuated  the  tradi- 
tions of  the  Apostles  (in  Palestine  ?)  until  Papias' 
day  (cf.  Hegesippus  ap.  Eus.  HE  III.  xxxii.  6-8, 
and  Lk  1'-^  Ac  IP"  15--  <•  "•  ==•  ^s  oi'S).  But  even  if 
this  exegesis  be  rejected,  there  is  no  escape  from  the 
following  alternative  :  Either  the  descriptive  phrase 
oi  ToO  Kvplav  ixaBriTal,  appended  after  'Aristion  and 
the  Elder  John'  precisely  as  after  the  list  of 
Ajiostles,  is  textually  conupt  (assimilated  to  the 
preceding  clause) ;  or  the  designation  is  used  in  a 
ditlereiit  and  very  loose  significance.  On  this  view 
the  only  certainty  is  that  Aristion  was  living  at 
the  time  of  Papias' inquiries  (A.D.  120-140?)  after 
'Apostolic  narratives'  (diroaToXi/cas  5i7)7^(rfis),  and  in 
a  region  whence  Papias  could  obtain  them  only 
from  '  travellers  who  came  his  way . '  For  Eusebius' 
statement  that  '  Papias  was  himself  a  hearer,  not 
of  the  Apostles,  but  of  Aristion  and  the  Elder 
John,'  is  made  in  the  interest  of  his  desire  to  find 
'some  other  John  in  Asia'  besides  the  Apostle 
(Zahn,  Forsch.  vi.  117  f.),  and  is  corrected  by  him- 
self in  the  next  clause  :  '  At  all  events  he  mentions 
them  frequently  by  name,  and  sets  down  their 
traditions  in  his  ■vn'itings.' 

(3)  A  second  difficulty  of  more  importance  for 
the  true  reading  of  Papias  and  the  identification 
of  '  Aristion '  than  is  generally  recognized,  is  the 
spelling  of  the  name,  which  Syr.  and  Arm.  give  as 
'Aristo.'  For  this  spelling,  in  combination  with 
the  omission  of  the  designation  '  the  disciples  of 
the  Lord,'  is  not  only  traceable  to  about  A.D.  400 
(Syr.  is  extant  in  a  MS  of  A.D.  462),  but  these  two 
main  variations  are  accompanied  by  minor  ones  in 
Syriac,  Armenian,  and  Latin  authorities,  which 
form  a  grou])  in  that  they  manifest  a  belief  in  com- 
mon regarding  the  personality  of  Aristo-Aristion 
which  ditt'ers  from  that  of  the  received  text  of 
Eusebius. 

2.  Text  of  Eusebius. —Siommi^m  (ZNTW  iii. 
1902,  p.  156  iT.)regarded  this  textual  evidenceascon- 
cliLsive  in  conjunction  with  the  admitted  '  chrono- 
logical difficulty.'  He  would  therefore  omit  the 
epitlieton/;-OH(  the  tc.U  of  Eusebius.  Corssen  {ib.  iii. 
p.  242  ti'. )  rightly  criticised  Mommsen's  proposal  to 
omit,  because  some  designation  of  this  second  link 
in  the  chain  of  traditores  is  indispensable  to  the 
sense.  He  thought  Papias  capable  of  the  colossal 
anachronism  of  regarding  his  own  contemporaries 
as  'disciples  of  the  Lord.'  The  present  writer 
had  argued  (Journ.  of  Bibl.  Lit.  xvii.,  1898)  for  the 
reading  ol  Toin-wv  /xaOrirai  {sc.  tQv  dTroo-TiXui/)  as  the 
true  text  of  Papias,  on  the  internal  evidence,  and 
because  'the  Elders'  of  Papias  are  twice  referred 
to  by  Irenreus  {Hmr.  V.  v.  1  and  V.  xxxvi.  1)  as 
'the  disciples  of  the  Apostles.'  The  corruption 
followed  by  Eusebius  (and  probably  even  by 
Irenseus  in  this  passage,  though  he  transcribed 
others  where  '  the  Elders '  were  correctly  described 
as  'disciples  of  the  Apostles'),  involves  only  the 
change  (by  assimilation)  of  three  letters,  OITOT- 
(TnX)MAeHTAI  becoming  OITO'r(KT)MAeHTAr. 
In  the  form  Avherein  Edwin  Abbott  (Enc.  Bibl.  s.v. 
'Go.spels,'  ii.  col.  1815,  n.  3)  adopts  the  emenda- 
tion, the  change  involves  l)ut  tw-ojetters,  OITOT- 
(Tr2)MAeHTAI  becoming  OITOT(KT)MAeHTAI,  as 
in  Jg  4=*  (LXX)  Tf!X  TIfiX  B  becomes  KT  TlfiN  in 
A.     This  would  largely  explain  the  strange  error 


116 


ARISTION  (ARISTO) 


AKISTION  (ARISTO) 


of  Iieiiieus  ill  taking  Papias  to  belony  to  a  genera- 
tion even  earlier  than  Polycarp  ('  some  of  them  saw- 
not  only  John  but  other  Apostles  also,  and  heard 
these  same  things  from  them  and  testify  [present] 
these  things').  The  difficulty  experienced  by 
■Eusebius  in  refuting  it  could  hardly  have  been 
so  great  if  his  text  of  Papias  had  not  the  same 
corruption. 

On  this  view  the  variants  are  of  no  help  to 
imjirove  the  text  of  Eusebius,  -which  is  correct 
in  the  received  form  (Bacon,  art.  '  False  Witness,' 
etc.,  in  ZNTW  vi.  1905).  They  have  some  im- 
portance, even  if  arbitrary,  as  indicating  that  in 
antiquity  also  the  'chronological  difficulty'  was 
felt  as  well  as  (in  Arm.)  the  incompleteness  of 
sense  produced  by  simple  omission  of  the  descrip- 
tive clause  and  (in  KuHnus)  the  incongruity  of 
applying  to  'Aristion  and  John  the  Elder'  the 
same  designation  by  which  the  Apostles  had  just 
been  distinguished.  They  would  have  great  im- 
portance if  it  could  be  made  probable  that  they 
rest,  diiectly  or  indirectly,  upon  a  knowledge  of 
Papias  (or,  nmch  less  probably,  of  Aristion-Aristo) 
independently  of  Eusebiu.s. 

3.  Origin  of  Variants. — 'Aristo'  is  not  simply 
'the  Greek  name  Aristion  badly  spelt'  (Cony- 
beare.  I.e.  p.  243),  nor  even  should  it  in  strictness 
be  called  'an  equivalent  {gleichbedeutende)  form  of 
the  same  proper  name'  (Hilgenfeld,  Ztschr.  f. 
wissenschaft.  Thcol.  1875  ii.  p.  256,  1883  i.  p.  13, 
1894  p.  626).  It  is  at  least  the  more  usual,  if  not 
more  correct  form,  and  'occurs  very  frequently  in 
ancient  writers.  It  has  been  calculated  that  about 
thirty  persons  of  this  name  may  be  distinguished.' 
But  ismith's  Diet,  of  Greek  and  Roman  Biogr.,  tlie 
authority  for  the  statement  just  made  (i.  p.  310), 
knows  of  but  two  occurrences  of  the  form  '  Aris- 
tion,' once  as  the  nickname  of  the  adventurer 
Athenion  (B.C.  87),  once  as  designating  a  surgeon 
of  small  repute  c.  150  B.C.  In  Jewisli  literature 
only  the  form  'Aristo '  occurs  (Jos.  Ant.  xix.  353 
[ed.  Xiese]).  Pape  (s.v.  'ApKrHuv)  adds  four  others 
from  Antiph.  vi.  12,  .'Esch.  lI\aTan-6s  3.  162,  Plut. 
Num.  9,  and  Pausanias.  Patristic  literature 
knows  only  the  form  'Aristo' in  Christian  le^'end 
(Acta  Barn.  xiv.  ed.  Tisch.  p.  69,  knows  a  Chris- 
tian host  Aristo  in  Cyprus ;  Acta  Petri,  ed.  Lipsius, 
p.  51,  14-53.  13,  one  in  Puteoli ;  Constit.  Apost.  \n. 
46,  ed.  Lagarde,  p.  228,  21,  gives  to  tlie  lirst  and 
third  bishops  of  Smyrna  the  name  Aristo).  The 
form  '  Aristion '  is  unknown.  Eusebius  himself 
(HE  iv.  6)  draws  his  account  of  the  devastation 
of  Judaea  in  the  insurrection  against  Hadrian  (132- 
135)  from  a  certain  ArLsto  of  I'ella.  This  Mriter, 
accordingly,  would  be  a  contemporary  of  Papias  in 
lx)sition  to  be  referred  to  as  a  tradifor  of  Apostolic 
teaching.  To  speak  of  .him  and  '  the  Elder  John,' 
if  by  the  latter  were  meant  John  the  elder  of  the 
Jerusalem  Church  (Ens.  HE  iv.  5 ;  cf.  Schlatter, 
Kirchc  Jerusalems,  1898,  p.  40),  whose  death  is 
dated  by  Epiplianius  (Ha:r.  Ixvi.  20)  in  the  19th 
year  of  Trajan,  as  'disciples  of  the  Apostles,' 
would  involve  no  greater  looseness  or  exaggeration 
tlian  we  should  expect  in  Asia  c.  150  a.D.  But 
as  Eusebius  "ives  no  account  of  Aristo's  writings, 
although  maliing  it  a  principal  object  of  his  work 
to  describe  early  Christian  authorities,  it  is  pro- 
bable that  Aristo  of  Pella  was  not  a  Christian,  but 
a  Jewish  or  (more  probably)  pagan  writer.  To 
this  supposition  there  is  but  one  serious  objection, 


uje 

,_, 24 

the  Paschal  Chronicle  may  admittedly  be  di;,_ 
garded  as  merely  reproducing  Eusebius.  ]Maximus 
Confessor,  however,  in  his  scholion  on  the  T/icol. 
Mystira  of  Areopagiticus  (c.  i.  p.  17,  ed.  Cor<Ier). 
undoubtedly  refers  to  the  same  '  Aristo  of  Pelhi ' 
("Apio-Tui/i  Tcp  lleXXoiv)  as  author  of  the  Christian 
Dialogue  of  Jason  and  Papiscus,  basing  his  state- 


ment on  'the  sixth  book  of  the  Hijiwtyposcis  of 
Clement  of  Alexandria,'  who  seems  to  have 
referred  to  this  'Jason'  as  'mentioned  by  (I. 
Sj-  avayp6.\fai)  Luke'  (Ac  17'"").  Only,  while  the 
Dtahgiie  is  known  to  Celsus  (c.  167),  Origen, 
Tertullian,  Cyprian,  and  Jerome,  if  not  to  jjseudo- 
Barnabas  and  Justin  Martyr,  and  even  probably 
survives  in  more  or  less  altered  form  in  the  Alter- 
catio  ilimonis  ct  Theo2)hili  (TU  I.  iii.  p.  llSfT. ; 
P.  Corssen,  Altcrcatio  S.  ct  Th.  1890),  it  is  known 
to  none  of  these  as  the  work  of  Aristo,  nor  do 
any  of  the  later  quotations,  references,  or  other 
evidences  indicate  that  the  work  in  question 
contained  SiTr,ri<rei^  tuv  toO  Kvpiou  Xoyuv  (Eus.  I.e.). 
If  the  name  '  Aristo '  was  ever  properly  connected 
with  the  Dialogue,  it  circulated  only  anonymously 
after  A.D.  200,  and  without  the  introductory  narra- 
tive portion  which  it  may  have  once  possessed. 
The  late  and  nnsup]iorted  statement  of  Maximus 
is  tlierefore  much  more  likely  to  be  due  to  some 
misunderstanding  of  the  Hypotyposeis,  especially 
as  Ave  have  the  explicit  quotation  of  the  same 
Aristo  of  Pella  by  Moses  of  Chorene  (400-450?) 
extending  to  considerable  length  beyond  the  por- 
tion quoted  by  Eusebius,  accompanied  by  the 
statement  that  ArLsto  was  secretary  of  Ardasches, 
king  of  Armenia,  when  the  latter  was  sent  by 
Hadrian  into  I'ersia  (Langlois,  Coll.  des.  Hist,  do 
rArmenie,  i.  p.  391ft-.,  cf.  ii.  HO,  n.  3,  and  Le 
Vaillant  de  Florival,  Hist.  Arm.  ii.  57).  Hamack 
(TU  i.  2,  p.  125)  and  Zalin,  it  is  true,  reject  Moses' 
quotation  as  a  fabrication ;  but  it  contains  no- 
thing '  fabulous,'  and  is  defended  with  reason  by 
Hilgenfeld  (Zts.  f.  w.  Th.  1S83,  p.  811'.).  Besides 
this,  Steplien  of  Byzantium,  who  knows  of  no 
Aristo  of  Pella,  mentions  an  Aristo  of  Gerasa  (less 
than  25  miles  distant)  simply  as  an  dareios  p-^iap. 

Our  conclusion  must  be  that,  while  direct 
acquaintance  with  Papias  is  quite  conceivable,  the 
valiant  form  'Aristo'  in  Syiiac  and  Armenian 
sources  is  best  accounted  for  by  a  mistaken  identiti- 
cation  of  this  Aristo  of  HE  iv.  6  with  the  '  Elder 
Aristion '  of  HE  iii.  39  and  Moses  of  Chorene. 

i.  The  Appendix  of  Ma  rL.— The  most  important 
addition  to  our  data,  regarding  Aristo  was  made  by 
Conybeare's  discovery  at  Ei;miadzin  in  1S93  of 
an  Armenian  SIS.  of  the  Ciospels  dat«d  A.D.  989, 
in  which  the  longer  ending  of  Mark  (Mk  16"-=") 
has  the  separate  title  in  red  ink,  corresponding  to 
the  other  Gospel  titles :  '  From  the  Elcler  Aristo ' 
(Expositor,  Oct.  1893,  pp.  241-254).  This  repre- 
sentation, though  late,  Conybeare  takes  to  be 
based  on  very  early  authority  (Expositor,  Dec. 
1895,  pp.  401-421),  appealing  to  the  internal  evi- 
dence of  the  verses  in  question.  Undeniably  the 
reference  in  Mk  16"*  to  drinking  of  poison  with 
impunity  must  have  literary  connexion  with 
I'apias'  anecdote  regarding  Justus  Barsabbas  (Eus. 
HE  iii.  39),  whatever  the  source.  Conybeare's 
citation  of  a  gloss  '  against  the  name  Aristion '  in 
a  BofUeian  12th  cent,  codex  of  Rufinus'  translation 
of  this  passage,  which  referred  to  this  story  of  the 
poison  cup,  A\as  even  (to  tlie  discoverer's  eye)  a 
designation  by  the  unknown  glossator  of  Aristion 
as  author  of  this  story.  But,  besides  the  precarious- 
ness  of  this  inference,  it  would  scarcely  be  possible 
to  write  a  gloss  'against  the  naii'ie  Aristion' 
which  would  not  be  eqiially  '  against  the  name 
of  the  Elder  John'  immediately  adjoining  ;  and  as 
medifeval  legend  reported  the  story  of  the  iraison 
cup  of  John  {i.e.  the  Apostle,  identihed  with  the 
Elder  in  the  glossator's  period)  this  would  seem  to 
be  the  more  natural  reference  and  meaning  of  the 
gloss. 

The  evidence  connecting  the  Appendix  of  Mark 
witli  the  name  'Aristo'  is  thus  reduced  to  the 
statement  'inserted  by  an  afterthouglit '  by  tlie 
scribe  John,  A.D.  <J89,  over  Mk  le""^", 


AETSTIOIS^  (ARTSTO) 


ARISTTON  (ARTSTO) 


n: 


■which  he  had  attached,  contrary  to  Syriac  and 
Armenian  tradition,  to  his  text  of  the  Gospel.  Tliis, 
liowever,  is  unquestionably  important,  esjiecially 
if,  as  Conybeare  maintains,  '  it  must  have  stood  in 
the  older  copy  transcriljed.'  The  statement  has 
been  generally  received  at  its  face  value,  but 
with  ditterent  identifications  of  '  the  Elder  Aristo.' 
Resch  (' Ausserkanonische  Paralleltexte,'  TUx.  3, 
1894,  p.  449  ;  Eng.  tr.  by  Conybeare  in  Expos.  4th 
ser.  X.  [1894],  pp.  226-232)  regards  Aristo  of  Pella 
as  the  only  personality  open  to  consideration  as 
author  of  the  Appendix.  Hilgenfeld  (Ztschr.  f. 
wisscnscliaft.  T/icul.  xxxvii.  1894,  p.  627)  stands 
apparently  alone  in  identifying  the  '  Aristion '  of 
Papias  with  Aristo  of  Pella,  '  a  notable  contem- 
porary of  Papias,'  and  refusing  to  the  Aristo  of 
the  Eijmiadzin  codex  any  signiticance  beyond  that 
of  'some  Elder  Aristo  or  other  before  c.  500  A.D., 
from  whom  a  Syriac  MS  will  have  borrowed  Mk 
lga-20  '  (regarded  by  Hilg.  as  the  original  ending). 
Other  critics  regard  it  as  'practically  certain' 
that  the  Mark-Appendix  is  really  taken  from  the 
authority  referred  to  by  Papias.  Harnack  sets 
the  example  of  peremptorily  refusing  the  sug- 
gestion of  Resch  {TU  x.  2,  p.  453  ff.),  that  this 
'Elder  Aristo'  may  be  no  other  than  Aristo  of 
Pella,  but  gives  no  other  reason  than  the  date 
(c.  140) ;  which,  as  he  rightly  says,  is  irreconcilable 
with  the  (disputed)  phrase  ol  toO  Kvptov  nadijTai 
(Chron.  i.  p.  269;  on  the  textual  question,  see 
above,  §2).  Zahn  (Thcol.  LitcratarU.  22nd  Dec. 
1893  [Eng.  tr.  by  Conybeare  in  Expos.  I.e.]  regards 
it  as  a  conclusive  objection  to  Resch's  identification 
that  'Aristo  of  Pella,  who  wrote  his  (?)  Dinlocjue, 
of  Jason  and  Papiscus  after  135,  and  perhaps  a 
good  deal  later,  cannot  be  the  author  of  a  section 
(Mk  16"'-")  which  Tatian  already  read  in  his  Mark 
at  the  latest  in  170,  and  which  Justin  had  already 
known  so  early  as  150,  though  perhaps  not  (N.B.) 
as  an  integral  part  of  Mark.'  We  may  inquire 
later  what  authority  the  scribe  John  may  have 
had  for  his  insertion  of  the  title. 

5.  Internal  evidence  of  the  Appendix. — The  im- 
pression of  Westcott  and  Hort  (Gr.  NT,  ii.  p.  51), 
corroborated  by  Conybeare  (Expositor,  1893,  p. 
241  if.),  that  the  Appendix  to  Mark  is  not  the 
original  full  narrative,  but  an  excerpt,  constitutes 
the  next  step  in  the  solution  of  our  problem.  In 
particular,  a  real  contribution  is  made  by  Zahn 
(Geseh.  Kan.  ii.  App.  xiv.  In,  and  Forsch.  vi.  §  3,  p. 
219)  in  the  demonstration  that  Jerome  (c.  Pelag. 
ii.  15,  ed.  Vail.  ii.  758)  had  access  to  it  in  a  fuller, 
more  original  form;  for  he  adds  after  v."  '  Et 
illi  satisfaciebant  dicentes :  Sa^culum  istud  ini- 
quitatis  et  incredulitatis  substantia  (cod.  Vat.  1, 
'sub  Satana')  est,  quce  (I.  qui)  non  sinit  per  im- 
mundos  spiritus  veram  Dei  apprehendi  virtutem ; 
idcirco  jam  nunc  revela  justitiam  tuam'  (cf.  Ac 
1').  Jerome's  source  for  this  material,  whose 
Hebraistic  expressions  and  point  of  view  confirm 
its  authenticity,  becomes  a  question  of  importance. 
This  source  can  scarcely  have  been  the  Dialogue 
of  Jason  and  Papiscus,  whoever  its  author  ;  for 
while  Jerome  was  acquainted  with  this  work  (Com. 
on  Gal  3",  and  Quwst.  Heb.  in  lib.  Goi.,  beginning), 
and  while  Celsus,  who  also  used  it,  twice  quotes 
the  substance  of  Mk  16"  (c.  Cels.  ii.  55  and  70),  the 
nature  of  the  work,  so  far  as  ascertainable,  was 
not  such  as  to  admit  material  of  this  kind.  Besides, 
we  have  seen  that  by  all  early  authorities  it  is 
treated  as  anonymous.  Zahn's  supposition  (Forsch. 
vi.  p.  219)  has  stronger  evidence  in  its  favour,  and 
still  leaves  room  to  account  for  the  points  of  con- 
tact between  the  Appendix,  the  Dialogue,  Celsus, 
and  Jerome.  According  to  Zahn,  'The  ancient 
book  in  which  Mk  le"-'^  was  extant  independently 
of  the  Second  Gospel,  and  whence  it  was  drawn 
by  transcribers  of  Mark,  can  only  have  been  the 


work  of  Papias,  in  which  it  was  contained  as  a 
SiTiy-riats  of  Aristion  (sic).'  But  Jerome,  he  holds, 
obtained  his  version  indirectly,  tlirough  his  teacher 
Apollinaris  of  Laodicea.  This  explanation  has  in 
its  favour  certain  evidences  adduced  by  Cony- 
beare (Expositor,  Dec.  1895),  to  connect  the  can- 
cellation of  Mk  16""-"  in  Armenian  MSS  witli 
knowledge  derived  from  Pajrias  of  its  true  origin. 
In  particular,  the  same  Efmiadzin  codex  whicli 
attributes  the  Appendix  to  'the  Elder  Aristo'  has 
a  version  of  the  Pericope  Adultera;  (Jn  753-8" 
TR)  independent  of  the  received  form,  briefer,  but 
with  the  explanatory  comment  after  Jn  8"  'To 
declare  their  sins;  and  they  were  seeing  their 
several  sins  on  the  stones.'  Echoes  of  this  addition 
are  traceable  in  Jerome  (Pelag.  ii.  17),  in  uncial  U, 
and  perhaps  elsewhere.  Moreover,  Conybeare's  con- 
tention that  this  'represents  the  form  in  which 
Papias  .  .  .  gave  the  episode,'  is  strongly  sup- 
ported by  Eusebius'  statement  of  what  he  found 
ill  Papias  ('a  story  about  a  woman  accused  of 
many  sins  before  the  Lord,  which  the  Gospel  ac- 
cording to  the  Hebrews  contains').  This  applies 
to  the  Efmiadzin  text  only  ('  A  certain  woman  was 
taken,  in  sins,  against  whom  all  bore  witness,'  etc. 
Cf.  Eus.  HE  iii.  39).  It  has  some  further  support 
in  the  express  statement  of  Vartan  (14th  cent.) 
that  this  pericope  was  derived  from  Papias,  though 
tliis  may  be  merely  dependent  on  Euseljius.  Cony- 
beare's suggestion  that  the  story  will  have  been 
one  of  the  'traditions  of  the  Elder  John,'  and  for 
this  reason  have  become  attached  in  most  texts  to 
the  Fourtli  Gospel,  is  more  probable  than  Zahn's 
attributing  it  to  '  Aristion ' ;  but  see  Blass,  Phi- 
lology  of  the  Gosjicls,  p.  156,  who  thinks  it  was 
simply  appended  at  the  end  of  the  Gospel  canon. 

The  Ei^miadzin  Codex,  accordingly,  in  the  two 
most  important  questions  of  Gospel  text  makes 
deliberate  departure  from  the  received  Armenian 
tradition,  in  both  cases  relying  on  authority 
which  might  conceivably  go  back  indirectly  to 
Papias  himself.  (1)  Until  about  this  date  (A.D. 
989)  Armenian  tradition  followed  the  Sinaitic,  or 
older  Syriac,  in  omitting  the  Mark-Appendix.  In 
the  10th  cent,  it  begins  to  be  inserted  as  in  the 
Curetonian  and  Tatian,  but  with  various  scribal 
notes  of  its  secondary  character.  Our  codex  is 
simply  more  exact  and  specific  than  others  of  its 
time  in  adding  a  datum  which  could  never  have 
gone  with  the  Appendix,  but  must  have  been 
derived,  like  the  comment  of  Vartan  on  the 
Pericope  Adultene,  from  comparison  of  Eusebius, 
which  in  the  Arm.  spells  the  name  '  Aristo '  and 
expressly  designates  him  as  'Elder.'  (2)  It  also 
goes  beyond  current  Armenian  tradition  regard- 
ing Jn  8'-".  Instead  of  attaching  the  story  after 
Lk  21'",  as  the  Gosp.  ace.  to  the  Hebrews  pro- 
bably suggested,  it  adopts  the  position  usually 
assigned  it  after  Jn  7^-,  with  the  marginal  scholion 
in  red  ink  t^s  /loixaXi'Sos,  and  an  expurgated  and 
embellished  text,  which  Eusebius  enables  us  to 
identify  as  that  of  Papias.  To  infer  from  this, 
however,  that  the  scribe  John  had  actual  access  to 
Papias  would  be  rash  in  the  extreme.  On  the 
contrary,  the  evidence  is  only  too  convincing  that 
his  title  is  based  simply  on  a  comparison  of  the 
two  Eusebian  passages  regarding  'Aristo,'  with 
the  further  statements  of  his  o%\n  chief  national 
historian,  Moses  of  Chorene  (400-450),  regarding 
the  Aristo  of  Pella  quoted  by  Eusebius  in  HE  iv.  6. 

6.  Aristo  of  Pella.  — Uoses  of  Chorene  (cf. 
Langlois,  I.e.),  in  writing  of  the  death  and  obsequies 
of  Ardasches,  king  and  national  hero  of  Armenia, 
transcribes  first  the  quotation  of  Eusebius  from 
Aristo  of  Pella  regarding  Hadrian's  devastation  of 
Jerusalem,  to  explain  how  Aristo  came  to  be 
attached  to  his  (Ardasches')  person  as  secretary ; 
for    Ardasches    had  been  sent  by  Hadrian   into 


118 


ARISTION  (ARISTO) 


ARMY 


Persia.  He  then  continues,  quoting  jjrofessedlj' 
from  'the  same  historian,'  an  elaborate  account  of 
Ardasches'  death  and  obsequies.  The  connexion 
of  tliis  supplementary  quotation,  however,  is  so 
awkwardly  managed  as  to  leave  it  quite  ambiguous 
to  whose  person  Aristo  was  attached  as  secretary. 
In  the  text  it  follows  the  statement  tliat  Hadrian 
'established  in  Jeruisalem  a  community  of  pagans 
and  Christians  whose  bishop  was  Mark.  Langlols 
accordingly  makes  him  secretary  of  Mark  (cf. 
Eus.  HE  iv.  6).  Zahn  understands  of  Hadrian 
himself  (!).  The  Ecmiadzin  scribe  .seems  to  have 
been  of  Langlois'  opinion,  and  to  have  drawn  the 
inference  that  this  Aristo,  secretary  of  Mark  the 
bishop  of  Jerusalem  under  Hadrian,  could  be  no 
other  tlian  '  the  Elder  Aristo '  of  Eus.  HE  iii.  39,  as 
well  as  the  natural  completer  of  '  Mark's'  Gospel. 

If  the  attribution  of  Mk  10'- -"  to  'the  Elder 
Aristo'  be  dismissed  as  untrustworthy,  our  know- 
ledge of  the  'Aristion'  from  whom  Papias  de- 
rived (indirectly)  his  '  accounts  of  tlie  Lord's 
sayings'  is  reduced  to  a  minimum.  Eusebius 
clearly  did  not  identify  him  with  Aristo  of  Pella, 
and  from  his  silence  Avould  seem  to  have  known 
nothing  more  about  him  than  the  statement  of 
Papias  that  he  was  an  elder,  one  of  the  '  disciples 
of  the  Apostles ' ;  or,  as  his  text  of  Papias  would 
seem  already  to  have  read  (by  assimilation  to  the 
preceding),  'of  the  Lord.'  Aristo  of  Pella,  Eusebius 
certainly  did  not  include  in  his  chain  of  Christian 
writers,  and  save  for  the  late  and  improbable 
statement  of  Maximus  Confessor,  all  that  we  know 
of  Aristo  indicates  that  he  does  not  belong  there. 
He  may,  or  may  not,  be  the  same  as  '  the  cultured 
rhetorician  Aristo  of  Gerasa.' 

7.  Conclusions. — The  following  may  be  taken  as 
more  or  less  probable  conclusions  from  the  fore- 
going data.  (1)  In  the  famous  extract  of  Evisebius 
from  Papias  and  the  adjoining  context  (HE  iii.  39), 
there  is  no  warrant  for  substituting  the  reading 
'ApltrTuv,  the  common  form  of  the  name,  for  the 
rarer  form ' kpucrTlwv .  The  Syriac,  followed  by  Arm., 
assimilates  it  to  'Aplaruv  (6  XlcKKaio^),  quoted  a  few 
paragraphs  farther  on  by  Eusebius  himself  (HE 
IV.  6),  or  perhaps  merely  falls  into  the  ordinary 
spelling.  The  reverse  process  is  inconceivable.  Of 
this  Aristion,  Eusebius  seems  unable  to  relate  any- 
thing beyond  what  he  found  in  Papias.  He  cer- 
tainly did  not  regard  him  as  identical  with  Aristo 
of  Pella,  whose  narrative  of  the  revolt  of  Bar 
Cochba  was  in  his  hands.  Papias,  however,  knew 
of  Aristion  as  a  traditor  (orally ;  cf.  ou  yap  iK  tCiv 
j3i/3\(ui/,  K.T.X.)  of  the  teachings  of  the  Apostles,  him- 
self 'one  of  the  disciples  of  these,'  probably  in 
Palestine,  since  Papias  obtained  his  traditions 
(Eusebius  to  the  contrary  notwithstanding)  only 
from  '  those  who  came  his  way.'  Aristion  was 
still  living  at  the  period  of  Papias'  (youthful  ?  /caXdj 
ifiyrifi6veva-a)  inquiries. 

(2)  From  this  otherwise  unknown  'Aristion'  of 
Papias  we  must  sharply  distinguish  '  Aristo  of 
Pella,'  the  historian  of  the  revolt  of  Bar  Cochba, 
quoted  by  Eusebius.  Had  this  been  a  Christian 
writer,  it  is  inexijlicable  that  Eusebius,  in  sjjite  of 
the  avowed  purjiose  of  his  book,  elsewliere  so  con- 
sistently followed,  should  have  omitted  all  mention 
whatsoever  of  his  works.  The  Viri  Illust.  of 
Jerome  is  equally  silent. 

(3)  The  process  of  confusion  of  Papias'  Aristion 
with  Eusebius'  Aristo  of  Pella  begins  with  the  Syriac 
translator  (c.  400),  followed  by  the  Armenian ;  or, 
if  Maximus  Confessor  be  right  in  attributinij  to 
Clement's  Hypotyposeis  the  (conjectural?)  assign- 
ment of  the  anonymous  Dialuqueof  Jason  andPapis- 
eus  to  this  author,  perliaps  with  Clement.  The  late 
and  unsupported  statement  of  Maxinms  (c.  600), 
quite  in  conflict  with  all  that  is  known  either  of 
the  Dialogue  or  the  writer,  is  really  valueless, 


(4)  The  Armenian  historian  Moses  of  Chorene 
(5th  cent.  ?)  appears  really  to  have  known,  as  he 
claims,  Aristo  of  Pella.  His  quotation,  where  it 
goes  beyond  that  of  Eusebius,  shows  more  and 
more  manifestly  the  secular,  non-Christian  writer. 
His  statement  that  Aristo  was  secretai-j;  of  Ard- 
asches, which  was  so  unfortunately  ambiguous  as 
to  seem  to  make  him  secretary  of  Mark,  bishop  of 
Jerusalem,  seems  to  be  the  starting-point  for  the 
last  stage  of  the  process. 

(5)  The  scribe  '  John '  who  wrote  the  Armenian 
Codex  of  the  Gospels  in  a.d.  989  (found  by  Cony- 
beare  at  Efiniadzin),  departed  from  previous  Ar- 
menian tradition  by  appending,  after  the  row  of 
discs  by  which  he  had  marked  the  end  of  the 
Gospel  of  Mark,  at  Mk  16',  the  spurious  ending 
vv."--",  literally  translated  from  the  ordinary  Greek 
text.  To  justify  this  unusual  insertion,  he  crowded 
in  'by  an  afterthought'  between  the  first  line  and 
the  row  of  discs,  in  small,  craniped,  red  letters, 
the  title  '  Of  the  Elder  Aristo.'  That  he  knew  the 
Eusebian  passage  about  Papias'  informant  is  indi- 
cated by  his  use  of  the  title  '  Elder '  and  the  form 
'  Aristo ' ;  for  only  the  A rmenian  Eusebius  has 
these  peculiarities.  That  he  should  have  identified 
the  writer  of  the  Markan  appendix  with  '  the 
Elder  Aristo'  is  most  probably  explained  by  his 
finding  in  Moses  of  Chorene  what  lie  took  to  lie 
the  statement  that  Aristo  (of  Pella)  was  secretary 
of  Mark,  the  bishop  of  Jerusalem,  in  the  time  of 
Hadrian.  Who  indeed  should  venture  to  complete 
Mark's  unfinished  Gospel,  if  not  his  secretary  ? 

B.  W.  Bacon. 

ARMOUR.— Lk  11==  speaks  of  the  iravoTXla  (fix. 
Xey.  in  Gospels  ;  also  Eph  6"- ",  witii  which  cf. 
1  'ih  5')  of  '  the  strong  man '  =  the  Wicked  One 
— the  def.  art.  6  (v.=')  indicating  a  single  and  de- 
finite person.  The  'armour'  is  the  potent  influ- 
ences at  his  disposal,  called  by  St.  Paul  (Eph  6") 
'wiles'  and  (6'")  'fiery  darts,'  by  which  he  deludes 
and  overcomes.  Trusting  to  these,  he  with  his 
possessions  is  '  at  peace '  until  '  tlie  stronger  than 
lie'  (l(TxvpiTcpos  avroO  [cf.  Lk  3'"])  comes  on  the 
scene,  when  the  armour  is  taken  away  and  he  is 
spoiled  of  his  possessions. 

The  passage  has  a  .soteriologieal  and  an  eschato- 
logical  bearing.  ( 1 )  It  points  to  the  power  of  Christ 
as  able  to  dislodge  evil  passions  and  habits  from 
the  heart  (cf.  Mt  10=«  el  pass.).  He  is  'stronger' 
than  '  the  strong  man,'  and  has  '  power  to  heal ' 
(Lk  5").  He  thus  fulfils  the  prophecy  of  Is  49=^- « 
and  53'=,  delivering  the  prey  and  dividing  the 
spoil.  (2)  Eschatologically  it  points  to  the  final 
victory  of  good  over  evil.  Cf.  Col  2'^  where  we 
have  the  word  a.TcKdmd^i.ei'oj  (cf.  Lighfoot's  note, 
in  loc).  The  '.stronger'  had  already  come  into 
the  '  strong  one's '  house  and  had  delivered  many  ; 
the  conflict  was  continued  by  Him  and  against 
Him  till  His  death,  when  He  overcame  him  that 
had  the  power  of  death  ;  the  same  conflict  of  evil 
against  good  is  still  continued.  His  '  spoiling '  is 
going  on,  He  is  still  taking  from  His  adversary 
one  and  another  of  his  |iu>mv,1,,iis,  till  in  the  end 
He  shall  bind  him  in  lli"  ;il.\  -  :iii.l  utterly  destroy 
him(cf.  esp.  1  Co  15---  ;in.|  lirv  Hi'-"".), 

For  passages  descriplivr  of  Kuiuan  armour  of 
the  time,  in  Polybius  and  Josephus,  see  Hastings' 
DB,  s.v.  I  cf.  also  Martial,  Epigr.  ix.  57.  With 
these  St.  Paul's  description  of  the  Christian's 
armour  is  in  close  harmony  ;  but  to  find  a  '  diabolic ' 
significance  in  the  several  details  is  rather  fanciful 
than  helpful. 

Literature.— Hastinprs'DB.s.ti.;  Ecce  Hnmo,  ch.  xiii.;  Exims. 
Times,  iii.  (1892)  p.  349  ff.;  Bunyan,  Uolii  War,  ch.  ii. 

K.  Macpher.son. 
ARH7. — 'Armies'  (arpaTevnaTa)   are   mentioned 
by  Jesus  as  the  natural  instruments  of  discipline 
at  the  command  of  an  Eastern  king  (Mt  22').     He 


AKNI 


ARREST 


119 


also  foretells  (Lk  21-")  the  day  vlien  '  Jerusalem 
shall  be  compassed  with  armies'  {a-TparoTreSa). 
Otherwise  there  is  little  allusion  to  armies  in  the 
Gospels,  and  comparatively  small  )ise  is  made  of 
lessons  or  figures  drawn  from  military  life.  The 
Roman  soldier,  the  leRionary,  did  not  loom  very 
large  in  Palestine.  When  the  Church  spreads 
into  the  Province  Asia,  to  Rome  and  Corinth, 
the  impression  of  the  army  of  Rome  is  much 
stronger  both  in  the  incidents  of  the  Acts  and 
in  the  figurative  allusions  of  the  Epistles. 

John  the  Baptist  found  soldiers  (see  art.  SOLDIER) 
among  the  crowds  who  came  to  him  to  be  baptized 
(Lk  3") ;  and  the  most  remarkable  bond  of  union 
between  the  military  character  and  the  character 
conformed  to  God,  that  of  discipline  and  orderly 
subordination,  was  suggested  to  our  Lord  by  the 
conduct  of  a  centurion  (Lk  7*). 

M.  R.  Newbolt. 

ARNL — An  ancestor  of  Jesus,  according  to  the 
genealogy  given  by  St.  Luke  (3^,  AV  Aram).  In 
Mt  P'-  he  is  called  Bam  (AV  Aram). 

ARPHAXAD.— The  spelling  (in  both  AV  and  RV 
of  Lk  3=")  of  the  OT  name  which  appears  more 
correctly  in  the  RV  of  OT  as  Arpachshad. 

ARREST  (Jn  18=-"  =  Mt  26«-»»=Mk  14«-62=Lk 
22«-53)_  —  When  Judas,  withdrawing  from  the 
Supper,  betook  himself  to  the  high  priests  and 
informed  them  that  he  was  ready  to  implement  his 
agreement  (see  Betrayal),  their  simplest  way 
would  have  been  to  accompany  him  back  to  the 
upper  room  and  there  arrest  Jesus.  It  was,  how- 
ever, impossible  for  them  to  proceed  thus  sum- 
marily. They  had,  indeed,  the  officers  of  the 
temple  at  their  command  (cf.  Jn  7'") ;  but  those 
were  insufficient,  since  the  Law  forbade  them  to 
go  armed  on  the  Passover  day,*  and,  though  Jesus 
and  the  Eleven  wore  defenceless.  He  was  the  popular 
hero,  and,  should  an  alarm  be  raised,  the  multitude 
would  be  aroused  and  would  come  to  the  rescue. 
Moreover,  had  they  taken  such  a  step  on  their  own 
authority,  they  would  have  offended  the  procura- 
tor, Pontius  Pilate,  who  was  ever  jealous  for  the 
maintenance  of  order,  especially  at  the  festal 
seasons ;  and  it  was  of  the  utmost  moment  that 
they  should  secure  his  sympathy  and  co-operation. 
Accordingly,  though  doubtless  impatient  of  the 
delay,  they  first  of  all  appealed  to  him  and  ob- 
tained from  him  a  detachment  of  soldiers  from 
Fort  Antonia,  under  the  command  of  a  tribune. 

The  Roman  garrison  at  Jerusalem  consisted  of  a  single  cohort 
(.r^Tupci),  i.e.  600  men  (cf.  Schiirer,  HJP  l.  ii.  p.  65).  Xx/Si,.  t»:, 
trviTpctv  (Jn  183)  does  not,  of  course,  imply  that  the  entire  cohort 
was  despatched  on  the  errand.  Cf.  such  phrases  as  '  call  out 
the  military,'  'summon  the  police.' 

Ere  all  was  arranged  several  hours  had  elapsed. 
Jesus  had  quitted  the  upper  room  and  the  city, 
but  the  traitor  knew  whither  He  had  gone,  and 
led  the  way  to  the  garden  on  Mount  Olivet,  where 
each  night  during  the  Passion-week  the  Master 
had  bivouacked  mth  the  Twelve  in  the  open  (Lk 
22*").  It  was  a  motley  band  that  followed  Judas. 
The  soldiers  would  march  in  order,  but  the  temple- 
servants,  armed  with  cudgels  and  carrying  lamps 
and  torches,  gave  it  the  appearance  of  a  mere 
rabble  (cf.  Mt  26^'  =  Mk  14''»=Lk  22^').  And  with 
the  rest,  forgetting  their  dignity  in  their  eagerness 
to  witness  the  success  of  their  machinations,  went 


*  Mishna,  Shahb.  vi.  4  ;  '  No  one  shall  go  out  with  sword  or 
bow,  with  shield  or  sling  or  lance.  But  if  he  go  out,  he  shall 
be  guilty  of  sin.' 

t  Lk  22<-52  a-Tfxr-nys]  ToS  UpaZ,  the  D'lJD,  officials  ne.\t  in 
dignity  to  the  priests,  charged  with  the  preservation  of  order 
in  the  temple.     Cf.  Schiirer,  UJP  il.  i.  p.  257 II. 


When  he  had  guided  the  band  to  the  garden, 
Judas  doubtless  would  fain  have  kept  in  the  back- 
ground, but  he  was  doomed  to  drink  his  cup  of 
degradation  to  the  dregs.  It  was  the  business  of 
the  soldiers  to  make  the  arrest,  but  they  did  not 
know  Jesus,  and,  seeing  not  one  man  but  twelve, 
they  were  at  a  loss  which  was  He.  It  was  neces- 
sary that  Judas  should  come  forward  and  resolve 
their  perplexity.  Casting  shame  to  the  winds,  he 
gave  thern  a  sign  :  '  The  one  whom  I  shall  kiss  is 
he.  Take  him.'  Then  he  advanced  and,  greeting 
Jesus  with  feigned  reverence :  '  Hail,  Rabbi ! ' 
kissed  Him  ett'usively.*  It  was  the  clima.x  of  his 
villainy,  and  Jesus  repulsed  him  with  a  stinging 
sentence.  '  Comrade  ! '  He  cried,  in  that  one  word 
summing  up  the  traitor's  baseness ;  '  to  thine 
errand.'  t  Brushing  the  traitor  aside.  He  stepped 
forward  and  demanded  of  the  soldiers:  'Whom 
are  ye  seeking?'  'Jesus  the  Nazarene,'  they 
faltered.  'I  am  he,'  He  answered,  making  per- 
haps to  advance  towards  them  and  surrender  Him- 
self; and,  overawed  by  His  tone  and  bearing, 
they  retreated  and  fell  on  the  ground. 

'Unless,* says  St.  Jerome, J  'He  had  had  even  in  His  c 


howeve 


;  mercenary 


fol- 
arrest 
Him  have  fallen  to  the  ground 
to  assume  a  miracle.  Cf.  the 
soldier  who  came,  sword  in  hand,  to  kill  C.  Marius  I 
'The  chamber  in  which  he  happened  to  be  lying  having  no 
very  bright  light  but  being  gloomy,  it  is  said  that  the  eyes  of 
Marius  appeared  to  dart  a  great  flame  on  the  soldier,  and  a  loud 
voice  came  from  the  old  man :  "  Barest  thou,  fellow,  to  slay 
C,  Marius  ?  "  So  the  barbarian  immediately  rushed  out,  crying  : 
"I  cannot  kill  C.  Marius!"  '§  It  is  related  of  John  Bunyan 
that  once,  as  he  was  preaching,  a  justice  came  with  several 
constables  to  arrest  him.  'The  justice  commanded  him  to 
come  down  from  his  stand,  but  he  mildly  told  he  was  about 
his  Master's  business,  and  must  rather  obey  His  voice  than 
that  of  man.  Then  a  constable  was  ordered  to  fetch  him 
down  ;  who  coming  up,  and  taking  hold  of  his  coat,  no  sooner 
did  Mr.  Bunvan  fix  his  eves  stedlastly  upon  him,  having  his 
Bible  then  open  in  his  hand,  but  the  man  let  go,  looked  pale 
and  retired  ;  upon  wliich  said  he  to  his  auditors,  "  See  how  this 
man  trenibleth  at  the  word  of  God  ! " '  And  John  Wesley  was 
once  assailed  by  a  gang  of  ruffians.  'Whichishe'(  whichishe'?' 
they  cried,  not  recognizing  him  in  the  press.  'I  am  he,'  said 
Wesley,  confronting  ihem  fearlessly  ;  and  they  fell  back  and  let 
him  go  unmolested. 

Jesus  reiterated  His  question  :  '  Whom  are  ye 
seeking  1 '  and,  when  they  answered  again  :  '  Jesus 
the  Nazarene,'  He  once  more  gave  Hiinself  up  to 
arrest,  adding  an  intercession  for  the  Eleven  :  '  If 
ye  are  seeking  inc,  let  these  men  go  their  way.' 
Recovering  themselves,  tho  soldiers  seized  Him, 
and,  as  they  were  proceeding  to  bind  Him,  the 
more  roughly  perhaps  that  they  were  ashamed  of 
their  wealoiess,  the  indignation  of  the  disciples 
mastereil  their  alarm,  and  Peter,  with  the  courage 
of  despair,  drew  a  sword  which  he  carried  under 
his  cloak  II  and,  assailing  a  slave  of  the  high  priest 
named  Malchus,  cut  of!'  his  right  ear.  An  uproar 
ensued,  and  the  disciples  must  have  paitl  the 
of  the  rash  act  had  not  Jesus  intervened. 


penalty 


(Vorking  His  liaiuls  free  from  the  cords  and  crav- 
ing a  brief  ii.li_-:i>e:  'Let  me  go— just  thus  far,' 
He  tourhud  t  \t<-  w  <juiiiled  ear  and  healed  it.lT  The 
miraL-l(Mi(i:i -iinHil  :\  iliversion;  and,  while  his  mates 
were  cniwilin-  .ili.  mt  Malchus,  Jesus  reasoned  with 
His  cMiicil  i.ill.>\\ors.  'Put  the  sword  into  its 
sheath,'  II. ■  .(Minnanded  Peter.  'The  cup  which 
my  FiilliiT  liaih  L;iveu  me,  shall  I  not  drink  it? 
Dost  thou  suppose  that  I  cannot  appeal  to  my 

»  Mt  SO^JiJ  =  Jlk  14JJ  «  (f,Xr,«-a,  nxTiflkyia-tv.     Cf.  Lk  T**- «. 
t  Euth.  Zig.  TO  oi  .y  Z  (Tisch. ,  WH  i<l' »)  tript,  cU  ipany,!acT,K£l 
ctvayvuB-TioV  iyivMaxi  yctp  lip'  Z  frotpiyiviTo'  iAX'  ctrofKVTixui. 

I  Alt  Prlncipiaiii  Exptan.'  Jfsalm.  xliv. 
it  I'lut.  C.  Mar.  §  39. 

II  Cf.  Lk  2233.    Chrysostom  thinks  that  these  / 


knO'e)  which 


may  mean  either  sword  - 
Peter  and  John"(cf.  Lk  2'28)  had  used  in  slayii  „ 
the  Pasclial  lamb.    It  evinces  their  sense  of  impending  perd 
that  they  carried  the  /j.xx<^'fxi  despite  the  legal  prohibition. 

•^  Tins  miracle  is  recorded  by  Luke  alone,  but  the  immunity 
of  Peter  from  instant  vengeance  is  inexplicable  \ 


ithoul  i 


120 


ART 


Father,  and  he  will  even  now  send  to  my  support 
more  than  twelve  legions  of  angels  {i.e.  one  for 
Himself  and  one  for  each  of  the  Eleven)  ?  How 
then  are  the  scriptures  to  be  fulfilled  that  even 
thus  it  must  come  to  pass  ? '  St.  Chrysostom  *  finds 
here  an  allusion  to  the  destruction  of  Sennacherib's 
army  (2  K  19"°) :  If  a  single  angel  smote  that  host 
of  185,000  armed  men,  what  could  this  rabble  do 
against  72,000  angels  ? 

Anxious  to  avert  attention  still  further  from  the 
Eleven,  Jesus  addressed  Himself  to  the  Jewish 
rulers  who  with  their  officers  had  accompanied  the 
soldiers.  'As  though  against  a  brigand,' He  said 
scornfully,  '  have  ye  come  forth  with  swords  and 
cudgels?  Daily  in  the  temple  I  was  wont  to  sit 
teaching,  and  ye  did  not  arrest  me.'  What  had 
kept  them  from  arresting  Him  in  the  temple- 
court?  It  was  fear  of  the  multitude  (cf.  Mt  2S'-^= 
Mk  14'"°= Lk  22''°).  And  they  were  cowards  still, 
coming  forth  with  an  armed  band  against  a  de- 
fenceless man.  It  was  a  stroke  of  biting  sarcasm, 
and  they  felt  the  sting  of  it.  Apparently  it  ])io- 
voked  them  to  violence.  At  all  events  the  Eleven 
were  at  that  moment  stricken  with  sudden  panic, 
and  'all  forsook  him  and  fled.' 

They  made  good  their  escape,  but  the  infuriated 
rulers  t  laid  hands  on  one  who,  though  not  a 
follower  of  Jesus,  was  evidently  a  friend  and 
sympathizer.  St.  Mark  alone  has  recorded  the 
incident.  A  solitary  figure  (efs  ns)  strangely 
attired  had  been  liovering  near  during  the  reti- 
contre — 'a  young  man  arr.ayed  in  a  linen  sheet  J 
over  liis  undress.'  When  the  Eleven  took  to  flight 
the  rulers  laid  hold  on  him ;  and,  dropping  his 
garment,  he  left  it  in  their  grasp  and  escaped  un- 
dressed. § 

"Who  was  he?  and  why  should  the  Evangelist  have  recorded 
an  incident  which  seems  merely  to  introduce  an  incongruous 
element  of  comedy  into  the  tragic  narrative  ?  Of  all  the  con- 
jectures which  have  been  offered,  ||  the  most  reasonable  seems  to 
be  that  he  was  St.  Mark  himself  (Olshaus.,  Godet).  The  conjec- 
ture is  of  recent  date,  but  long  ago  it  was  alleged  that  he  w.as 
from  the  house  where  Jesus  had  eaten  the  Passover  (Euth.  Zig., 
Theophyl.) ;  and  it  may  well  have  been,  as  Ewald  suggests,  the 
house  of  Mary,  that  widow  lady  who  resided  in  Jerusalem  with 
her  son  John  Mark,  and  showed  hospitality  to  the  Apostles  in 
after  days  C.\c  1212).  Probably  Mark  had  gone  to  rest  that 
evening  after  the  celebration  of  the  Passover  by  his  household, 
and,  with  a  foreboding  of  trouble,  had  lain  awake.  He  had 
heard  Jesus  and  the  Eleven  descend  after  nii.lniL-lil  from  the 
upper  room  andqnittlie  house,  and,  h;i-l;l\  n-:]ij  ,.  ,  1  i  ipping 
his  sheet  about  hint,  had  anxiouslj'  f-!l i..\-  I  i-  r  i,  i,  .m,! 
witnessed  all  that  passed  in  Gethsein.-ut-        \:   I       ■  tliat 

the  incident  was  less  trivial  than  it  api'i  i[        I  :  <  i,    -  st. 

Mark  bore  a  singular  epithet.      He   \\,i^  I     ;'        iimp- 

lingered,' 1  and  in  the  absence  of  an .\' !■■  I  — :  '        .n -jf 

the  epithet  it  may,  perhaps,  be  conj-i  :i  I  .  ■  ■  ■  ;  tlie 
scuffle  in  Gethsemane  his  finger  had  In-ih  1  lit^h 

of  a  sword  (see  £a:po8.  1st  ser.  i.  [ISTfil  pi^ ,^. 

ART. — There  has  been  in  Christian  history  no 
antagonism  between  religion  and  art  as  such ; 
though  there  have  been  abuses  of  particular  forms 
of  art,  and  consequent  reactions  against  those 
abuses.  The  NT  affords  little  guidance,  for  it  is 
not  concerned  with  the  subject.  It  is  the  revelation 
of  a  Person,  not  of  a  code  of  rules.  It  deals  with 
fundamental  spiritual  facts,  and  it  was  not  within 
the  scope  of  the  writers  of  its  books  to  supply 
disquisitions  on  art  or  philosophy  or  science.  Sucn 
problems  were  left  to  be  settled  from  age  to  age 

♦  In  Matth.  Ixxxv. 

t  Mk  1461  „■  „.,;,;„,  om.  Tisch.,  WH. 

t  The  n.Su.  was  a  bed-sheet.  Cf.  Eus.  BE  vi.  40 :  jfi'sx  i^'i 
t^  iwK^f,  ^  yifjt/tiv  j-yjti^o;,  iv  Tu  Aivw  irByijuMTi^  where  Heinichen, 
comparing  our  p.assage,  comments:  'i»  rS  Aoi  iirOii/*«ii  idem 
est  quod  alias  voeatur  invhuv.' 

§  yuv'tt,  not  absolutely  uaked.    Ct.  Jn  21''. 

II  John,  who  recovered  from  his  panic  and  followed  Jesus  to 
the  high  priest's  palace  (Gregory,  Moral,  xiv.  23).  James, 
the  Lord's  brother,  who,  according  to  Eus.  HE  ii.  23,  alwaj  s 
after  his  conversion  wore  linen  garments  (Epiphan.,  Theophyl.). 
See  Petavel  in  Expositor,  March  1891. 

K  Hippol.   Philosoph.   vii.  30:  I'm  HmvXk   i  KTirnU;  eCri 


by  the  spiritual  instinct  of  a  Church,  to  which 
Christ  promised  the  abiding  presence  of  the  Spirit : 
the  NT  has  no  more  to  say  about  art  than  it  has 
to  say  about  economics  or  natural  science,  and 
therefore  it  neither  praises  any  of  these  things  nor 
condemns  them ;  it  is  concerned  with  that  which 
underlies  them  all. 

The  NT  is  neutral  also  in  regard  to  the  use  of 
art  in  the  worship  of  the  Temple.  The  Jews  were 
not  an  inartistic  nation,  though  they  had  not  the 
genius  for  art  of  some  other  races  :  they  had  music, 
poetry,  sculpture,  arcliitecture,  and  the  usual  minor 
arts  of  their  time ;  and,  though  in  .sculpture  they 
were  under  strict  regulations  for  the  prevention  of 
idolatry,  this  did  not  prevent  them  from  using 
graven  images  within  the  sanotuarj-  itself,  while 
in  the  ornaments  of  their  worsliip  tliey  had  been 
guided  by  elaborate  regulations  as  to  form  and 
colour  and  symbolism.  Christianity  grew  up  in 
these  surroundings,  and  did  not  find  any  fault  with 
them.  Our  Lord  condemned  the  ethical  formalism 
of  current  religion,  but  not  its  art :  He  condemned 
the  trafficking  in  the  Temple,  but  not  its  beauty. 
Nor  did  His  disciples  have  anything  to  say  against 
the  art  of  the  pagan  cities  where  they  went, 
though  they  had  much  to  say  about  the  wicked- 
ness :  they  are  silent  on  the  subject,  except  for  a 
few  illustrations  from  engraving  and  painting  in 
He  P  8°  and  10*.  It  is  in  the  Apocalypse  alone 
that  we  have  any  setting  forth  of  visible  beauty ; 
and  here  there  is  a  clearer  recognition  of  the 
principle  of  art,  because  nothing  else  could  express 
what  the  writer  liad  to  show  forth.  It  is  not 
enough  to  say  that  the  imagery  of  the  Apocalypse 
is  merely  symbolic :  all  religious  art  is  symbolic. 
St.  John  envelops  his  concejjtion  of  the  highest 
form  of  being  in  an  atmosphere  of  glowing  beauty  ; 
and  a  Church  which  accepted  his  teaching  could 
hardly  mistrust  material  beauty  as  a  handmaid  of 
religion.  It  is  not  therefore  to  be  wondered  at 
that  Christian  worship,  as  we  know  of  it  after  the 
Peace  of  the  Church,  was  much  influenced  by  the 
descriptions  of  the  heavenly  worship  in  the  Apoca- 
lypse (see,  e.g.,  the  recently  discovered  Testament  of 
our  Lord,  A.D.  350). 

But,  if  we  would  find  in  the  NT  the  final  argu- 
ment in  favour  of  art,  we  nmst  turn,  as  Westcott 
says  in  his  great  essay  on  the  subject,  to  the 
central  message  of  Christianity— </te  Word  became 
flesh.  Here  is  the  justification  and  the  sanctifica- 
tion  of  all  that  is  truly  human  :  Christianity  em- 
braces all  life,  and  '  the  inspiration  of  the  new 
birth  extends  to  every  human  interest  and  faculty.' 
The  old  conflict  between  the  spiritual  and  the 
material  is  reconciled  by  the  Incarnation  ;  for  by 
it  the  visible  became  the  sacrament,  or  outward 
sign,  of  that  which  is  inward  and  spiritual.  Thus, 
like  the  Incarnation  itself,  'Christian  art  embodies 
the  twofold  conception  of  tlie  spiritual  destiny  of 
the  visible,  and  of  a  spiritual  revelation  through 
the  visible.  The  central  fact  of  the  Christian  faith 
gives  a  solid  unitjf  to  both  truths.'  The  office  of 
art,  Westcott  continues,  is  '  to  present  the  truth 
of  things  under  the  aspect  of  beauty':  the  effect 
of  Cliri.^tiaiiity  upon  art  is  that  of  'a  new  birth, 
a  transliguration  of  all  human  powers  by  the 
revelation  of  tlicir  divine  connexions  and  destiny' ; 
and  thus  '  Christian  art  is  the  interpretation  of 
beauty  in  life  under  the  light  of  the  Incarnation.' 
Thus  the  Christian  artist  is  a  teacher,  his  .art  is 
ministerial,  and  when  it  appears  to  be  an  end  in 
itself  idolatry  has  begun  ;  his  true  function  is  both 
to  interpret  the  world  as  God  has  made  it  in  its 
beauty,  in  the  light  of  a  deeper  understanding  of 
its  meaning,  and  also  to  embody  to  men  his  own 
visions  of  the  truth — '  he  is  not  a  mirror  but  a 
proijhet,'  and  love  is  his  guide.  Thus  lie  is  led 
'  through  the  most  patient  and  reverent  regard  of 


AKT 

phenomena  to  the  contemplation  of  the  eternal' ; 
for  '  the  beauty  which  is  the  aim  of  Christian  art  is 
referred  to  a  Divine  ideal.  It  is  not  "  of  the  world," 
as  finding  its  source  or  its  final  measure  there, 
but  "of  the  Father,"  as  corresponding  to  an  unseen 
truth.  The  visible  to  the  Christian  eye  is  in  every 
part  a  revelation  of  the  invisible.' 

Westcott,  however,  assumes  an  '  antagonism  of 
early  Christians  to  contemporary  art,'  and  points 
to  the  central  message  of  Christianity  as  establish- 
ing a  reconciliation  between  supposed  '  elements  of 
contrast.'  Was  there,  we  must  ask  any  such  an- 
tagonism as  a  matter  of  history  ?  When  Westcott 
wrote,  Christian  archaeology  was  still  in  its  in- 
fancy ;  much  that  we  now  have  was  still  undis- 
covered, and  that  which  was  known  was  uncertain 
in  date  and  inaccurately  reproduced  ;  notions  still 
held  the  field  which  have  since  been  disproved,  as, 
for  instance,  that  which  credits  the  early  Church 
with  the  wanton  destruction  of  pagan  monuments, 
when,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  the  ancient  Roman 
temples  were,  after  the  triumph  of  Christianity, 
long  kept  in  repair  at  the  expense  of  the  Christian 
State,  as  the  chief  glory  of  the  city. 

The  question  is  of  great  importance,  for  modern 
writers  frequently  condemn  Christianity  because 
of  its  supposed  depreciation  of  humanity.  Thus 
the  natural  scientist  Metchnikoff — writing,  as 
people  do,  about  matters  which  are  outside  his 
province  —  declares  in  The  Nature  of  Man  that 
Christianity  lowered  our  conception  of  human 
nature,  and  gives  as  evidence  this  statement : — 
'Sculpture,  which  played  so  great  a  part  in  the 
ancient  world,  and  which  was  intimately  associated 
with  Greek  ideals,  began  to  decline  in  the  Chris- 
tian era,' — the  real  truth  being,  as  we  shall  see, 
that  sculpture  had  been  declining  for  several 
generations  in  pagan  hands,  and  that  Christian 
artists  did  M'hat  they  could  with  the  decadent 
craft. 

Now  Westcott  himself  states  that  '  the  literary 
evidence  is  extremely  scanty'  as  regards  the  rela- 
tion of  Christianity  to  art ;  and,  writing  twenty- 
two  years  later,  we  may  add  that  archoeological 
evidence  all  jjoints  in  the  opposite  direction  to 
that  which  he  supposed.  The  literary  evidence, 
indeed,  proves  little  as  to  the  first  two  centuries, 
though  recent  discoveries  have  increased  our  know- 
ledge of  the  3rd  century. 

The  usual  quotations  from  the  Fathers— such  as 
Westcott  gives— are,  indeed,  'extremely  scanty'  ; 
but  the  one  extract  which  does  deal  directly  and 
definitely  with  the  subject  has  been  curiously  over- 
looked. It  is  from  Clement  of  Alexandria  in  the 
chapter  headed  'Human  arts  as  well  as  Divine 
knowledge  proceed  from  God '  {Strom,  i.  4),  and  is 
quite  final  as  to  Clement's  opinion.  After  perti- 
nently referring  to  the  craftsman  Bezalel  the  son 
of  Uri  (Ex  31'-"),  whose  '  understanding'  was  from 
God,  he  proceeds— 


'  For  those  who 


practise  the 


-  -  are  in  what  per- 

-»...=  lAj  iiic  acuoes  highly  gifted :  in  hearing,  he  who  is  com- 
monly falU-tl  a  musician;  in  touch,  he  who  moulds  clay;   in 

\'ni-'c  thr  •  Mirci- ;  ni  -':i.  M   thr-  jierfunier;  in  sight,  the  engraver 
"'''''■"■    '^  ^^  "  h  !<ason,  therefore,  the  Apostle  has 

'    '     '      '  ;       ,1.1       iiaiiifold,"  which  has  manifested  its 

P  I   ;       I     '!>  and  in  many  modes"  lEph  31*>, 

"'    ''i     I;    "I,  '■■  l-ii-'Ali  J„.-,  by  faith,  by  prophecy— tor  our 
'liV  ■     ',  '^"  ■'"  "'»''""'  13  "'om  the  Lord  and  is  with  him  for 
ever    l&ir  I'J,  aa  sa^s  the  Wisdom  of  Jesus.' 

Thougli  less  comprehensive  than  this  admirable 
statement,  the  passage  to  which  Westcott  himself 
alludes  is  also  extremely  interesting.  Clement 
describes  a  number  of  subjects  commonly  engraved 
upon  seals  to  whicli  Christians  could  give  a  Chris- 
tian meaning  (see  Christ  in  Art),  whilst  he 
forbids  the  use  of  seals  whicli  bear  idols,  swords, 
bows,  and  drinking  cups— condemning  thus,  not 
(irt,  but  idolatry,  war,  and  drunkenness  (/'«•(/.  iii. 


3).  Origen's  answer  to  Celsus  (r.  Ccl.f.  viii.  17-20)  is 
often  quoted  as  denying  the  use  of  art.  He  meets 
Celsus' charge  that  'we  shrink  frnm  raising  altars, 
statues,  and  temples,'  liy  s.-iyin;.;  tli.it  < 'cl.sus  'does 
not  perceive  that  we  ri_-;^aiil  tlic  ^|lilit  of  every 
good  man  as  an  altar,'  ami  tliat  Christ  is  '  the  most 
excellent  image  in  all  creation,'  and  'that  we  do 
refuse  to  build  lifeless  temples  to  the  Giver  of  all 
life,  let  anyone  who  chooses  learn  how  we  are 
taught  that  our  bodies  are  the  temi)Ie  of  God.' 
This  rhetorical  answer  cannot  be  taken  as  denying 
the  use  of  art  by  the  African  Christians  :  it  is  a 
vindication  of  the  spiritual  nature  of  Christian 
worship,  and  the  'lifeless  temples'  must  be  referred 
to  paganism,  since  there  was  nowhere  any  shrinking 
from  the  erection  of  church  buildings.  Origen  is 
not  concerned  with  the  question  of  art :  he  merely 
denies  '  altars,  statues,  and  temples '  in  the  heathen 
sense. 

Even  Tertullian,  Montanist  though  he  was,  is 
clear  in  not  condemning  artists  for  practising  their 
art,  though  he  has  a  good  deal  to  say  about  their 
making  idols ;  the  artist  who  makes  idols  works 
'  illicitly '  like  Hermogenes,  who  '  despises  God's 
law  in  his  painting'  (ado.  Hermog.  1).  An  artist's 
profession  was  full  of  temptation  from  heathen 
patrons :  so  Tertullian  warns  them  that  '  every 
artificer  of  an  idol  is  guilty  of  one  and  the  same 
crime '  as  he  who  worships  it  (de  Idol.  3),  .since  to 
make  an  idol  is  to  worship  it  (ib.  6) ;  and  he 
advises  them  to  practise  their  art  in  other  direc- 
tions— '  gild  slippers  instead  of  statues '— '  We  urge 
men  generally  to  such  kinds  of  handicrafts  as  do 
not  come  in  contact  with  an  idol'  (ib.  8).  Else- 
where he  gives  useful  testimony  by  his  incidental 
mention  of  Christian  art  work  in  the  painting  of 
the  Good  She])lierd  and  other  subjects  upon  chalices 
(de  Pudit:  7  and  10). 

This  is,  in  fact,  the  conclusion  to  which  the  literary 
evidence  leads  us:  the  early  Christians  were  told 
to  keep  clear  of  paganism,  with  wliich  their  daily 
work  was  often  so  closely  involved,  but  they  were 
not  told  to  forswear  art. 

If  we  wish  to  find  a  condemnation  of  art  as  such, 
we  must  turn  not  to  Christianity,  but  to  pre- 
Christian  philosophy,  and — in  spite  of  all  that  has 
been  said  about  the  opposition  between  Hebraism 
and  Hellenism— not  to  a  Jewisli  but  to  a  Greek 
writer.  Plato  knew  what  art  was ;  be  belonged  to  a 
race  with  whom  art  was  not  a  lueie  ineiili-iit  Imt  a 
most  important  part  of  life  ;  in  desoriliing  liis  ideal 
city  he  bad  to  deal  with  the  problem  of  art,  and  he 
settled  it  by  excluding  the  artist  altogether.  Be- 
ginning with  dramatic  art,  he  proceeds,  towards  the 
end  of  the  Jiejniblic,  with  a  consistent  adherence 
to  principle  that  is  as  rare  now  as  it  was  then,  to 
include  every  form  of  art  in  his  condemnation. 
His  reasons  are  tliree — The  artist  creates  without 
knowing  or  caring  wliat  is  good  or  bad,  and  thus 
separates  himself  from  morality  ;  he  is  an  imitator 
of  appearances,  and  therefore  a  long  way  ott'  the 
truth  ;  and  art,  whether  poetry  or  painting  or  the 
drama,  excites  passions  which  ought  to  be  curbed. 
Plato  fully  recognized  that  if  painting  is  wrong, 
poetry  must  be  wrong  too ;  and  he  decided  that 
poetry  also  must  be  excluded  from  the  perfect  city. 
He  was  right  at  least  in  this,  tliat  all  art  must 
stand  or  fall  together  ;  and  in  the  light  of  his  clear 
thought  it  is  easy  to  see  that  the  three  movements 
wliich  have  appeared  in  Christendom— Asceticism, 
Iconoclasm,  and  Puritanism — were  not  really  move- 
ments against  art.  The  Christian  Church  never 
adopted  Plato's  position  :  the  ascetic  preiairsors  of 
Monasticism  came  nearest  it,  but  they  formulated 
no  principle  beyond  that  of  eoinplefe  renunciation 
of  tlie  world  for  the  beiielit  ol'  llieji-  ..«m  souls,  and 
they  did  little  or  notbiiej  t..elie,k  l\<.-  lavish  deco- 
ration of  churches  wliieii  .  luiia,  loi.aa  llieir  age. 


122 


ART 


Tlie  Iconoclasts  of  the  Byzantine  Empire  were  often 
great  patrons  of  architecture,  poetry,  and  the  minor 
arts ;  and,  though  they  carried  their  special  prin- 
ciple down  to  the  forbidding  of  pictures  of  sacred 
subjects  even  in  books,  they  did  not  carry  it  beyond 
the  question  of  images.  The  Puritans,  being  Eng- 
lishmen, were  naturally  less  logical  than  the  Greek 
iconoclasts ;  thus,  they  accepted  Judaism  when  it 
forbade  images,  and  ignored  it  when  it  commanded 
ceremonial :  in  fact,  they  disliked  art  in  so  far  as 
it  embodied  ideas  which  were  distasteful  to  them, 
and  no  further.  Puritanism  was  a  mingling  of  the 
two  earlier  reactions,  asceticism  and  iconoclasm : 
it  can  hardly  be  taken  as  embodying  a  principle  of 
opposition  to  art. 

The  question  is  not,  then,  one  between  Puritanism 
and  Catholicism,  or  between  Hebraism  and  Hellen- 
ism, but  between  Platonism  and  Aristotelianism. 
For  it  was  Aristotle  who  answered  Plato ;  and  he  did 
so  by  pointing  out  that  a  true  philosophy  must  make 
the  wliole  of  human  nature  rationally  intelligible  ; 
for,  the  Universe  being  rationally  organized,  the  ex- 
istence of  art  proves  that  it  must  have  a  proper 
function  in  life.  This  is  surely  the  philosophy  also 
of  the  Incarnation  :  the  AVord  became  flesh,  and  in 
that  the  whole  of  human  nature  becomes  intel- 
ligible ;  it  is  good  in  itself,  and  in  its  unstained 
perfection  can  become  a  tit  manifestation  of  tlie 

Sin,  indeed,  mars  this  perfection  :  and  while  sin 
remains,  asceticism  continues  to  have  its  function 
in  the  world.  The  love  of  the  beautiful  may  de- 
generate into  the  lust  of  the  eye,  because  the 
inward  and  spiritual  is  forgotten,  and  the  sacra- 
mentalism  of  art  is  lost.  It  may  tlien  become 
necessarj-  to  pluck  out  the  eye  that  sees,  or  to  cut 
off  the  fashioning  hand,  in  order  to  enter  into 
life ;  but  it  is  a  choice  of  evils,— the  man  escapes 
Gehenna,  but  he  enters  into  life  'maimed.' 

So,  thougli  it  is  better  to  be  maimed  than  to  be 
lost,  better  to  hate  art  than  to  make  it  a  god, 
hiding  the  eternal  which  it  should  reveal,  better, 
indeed,  to  break  images  than  to  worship  them  ;  yet 
the  fulness  of  truth  lies  not  in  the  severance,  but 
in  the  union  of  the  good  and  the  beautiful.  They 
have  often  appeared  as  rival  tendencies  in  history. 
Religious  men  have  often  been  narrow  and  in- 
human, artists  have  often  been  weak  in  will  and 
the  creatures  of  their  emotions,  as  Aristotle  found 
them  ;  but  the  one-sidedness  of  men  serves  only  to 
illustrate  the  manysidedness  of  truth.  Christen- 
dom through  all  her  struggles  has  loved  righteous- 
ness, and  has  not  forgotten  to  love  art  also.  She 
has  her  fasts,  but  she  has  also  her  feasts. 

It  is  certain  as  a  historic  fact  that  the  early 
Church  had  no  suspicion  of  art,  but  accepted 
without  scruple  the  decorative  motives  and  forms 
of  the  classical  civilization  to  which,  apart  from 
religion  and  ethics,  she  belonged,  eliminating  only 
such  themes  as  bore  an  idolatrous  or  immoral 
meaning.  Limited  at  first  in  her  resources,  she 
did  not  for  a  while  attain  to  magnificence  ;  but  all 
the  evidence  of  archaeology,  which  is  yearly  ac- 
cumulating, shows  that  she  made  use  of  art  so  far 
as  she  had  opportunity.  Nor  did  she  tiy  to  create 
an  art  of  her  own  ;  she  used  the  art  as  she  used  the 
languages  of  the  empire.  The  art  of  the  early 
Church  i.s  not  Cliristian  in  its  form,  but  in  its 
inspiration. 

Most  of  the  earliest  Cliristian  art  that  has  been 
discovered  is  in  the  C.iii  i,,!.^  ^f  i;,„iir.  Tlri- 
does  not   mean,   as   A\  •  .   ihat    tii.' 

Church  of  Italj- was  aii:  'i'      i'm    i,-i   ,,i  tli,- 

Church  was  not;  still  l'-~  •'.'••■-  ii  -how,  a~  iv 
popularly  imagined,  that  the  Kdinan  Cliristi.iiis 
used  the  Catacombs  as  their  churches  and  piT- 
manent  hiding-places.  The  art  of  the  Cataccniilis 
has  survived  because  it  has  been  preserved  umler- 


ART 


•iround  ;  but  it  was  not  the  only  art,  and  the  early 
Christians  worshipped  above  ground  like  every- 
lx)dy  else,  except  in  the  case  of  occasional  services 
for  the  departed.  But  hardly  anything  has  sur- 
vived of  tlie  art  above  ground :  in  literature  we 
have  only  hints  that  stir  but  do  not  satisfy  the 
imagination,— as  when  Eusebius  tells  us  {HE  viii. 
12)  that  in  times  of  persecution  tlie  churches  were 
pulled  down  (as  by  Diocletian  in  302),  and  men- 
tions that  the  church  at  Nicomedia,  destroyed  in 
303,  was  of  great  size  and  importance  {cle  Mart. 
Pcrs.  12,  'fanuni  illud  editissimum ').  At  a  time 
when  not  the  buildings  only,  but  the  very  books  of 
the  Christians  were  destroyed,  it  was  in  the  burial- 
places— immune  by  Roman  law  from  molestation, 
and  hidden  away  from  the  ravages  of  sun  and  air, 
and  of  barbarians  ancient  and  modem— that  works 
of  art  survived ;  and  to  the  Catacombs  we  must 
turn  for  our  evidence.  There  is  every  reason  to 
suppose  that  the  art  which  we  find  there  is  typical 
of  that  of  the  whole  Church  ;  for  (1)  the  Cliristian 
Churches  were  bound  together  by  remarkably 
close  ties  in  the  first  three  centuries  ;  (2)  tlie  sym- 
bolism of  the  Catacombs  is  shown  by  the  early 
literature  to  have  been  that  of  the  rest  of  the 
Church  also  ;  and  (3)  there  was  a  uniformity  of  art 
throughout  the  empire,  of  which  Rome  was  the 
cosmopolitan  centre, — an  Italian  city  indeed  in 
which  most  of  the  art  was  executed  by  Greeks. 

Enough  description  for  our  present  purpose  of 
the  paintings  in  the  Catacombs  will  be  found  in 
the  article  on  Chrlst  IN  ART.  To  that  article, 
which  deals  with  Christian  art  on  its  most  import- 
ant side  (the  Christological),  reference  may  also  be 
made  for  illustrations  from  the  other  arts  which  are 
here  more  briefly  mentioned.  It  will  suffice  here 
to  make  a  few  general  statements.  (1)  Pictorial 
art  is  found  in  the  earliest  catacombs,  belonging 
to  a  period  before  the  end  of  the  1st  cent.,  as  well 
as  in  those  of  later  date ;  (2)  the  first  Christians 
must  have  been  fond  of  art  to  use  it  so  freely  in 
the  dark  :  the  cubkula  of  the  Catacombs,  which 
were  only  visited  occasionally,  and  where  nothing 
could  be  painted  or  seen  except  by  lamp-light, 
must  represent  art  at  its  minimum.  Yet  that  art 
is  both  good  and  abundant.  (3)  Among  the  very 
earliest  examples,  figures  are  included  as  well  as 
merely  decorative  subjects  of  animals,  flowers,  etc. 
(4)  The  art  is  the  highly  developed  art  of  the 
Roman  Empire,  which  was  at  its  height  in  the  1st 
and  2nd  centuries,  and  declined  after  the  reign  of 
Hadrian.  (5)  The  art  of  the  Catacombs  is  there- 
fore Christian  only  in  that  it  generally  represents 
Christian  subjects,  and  that  it  acquires  almost  at 
once  a  certain  marked  character  of  mystic  sym- 
bolism which  is  peculiar  to  the  ages  of  persecu- 
tion. Certainly  there  is  something  about  this 
early  painting  which  at  once  distinguishes  it  as 
Christian.  Its  authors  were  intent  on  expressing 
ideas, — not  the  technical  theolo^  of  an  ecclesi- 
astical system,  but  the  faith  and  hope  of  ordinary 
Christian  people, —therefore  they  use  suggestion 
and  symbol,  and  are  fond  of  a  conventional  treat- 
ment even  of  Scripture  subjects,  ami  thus  their 
work  is  marked  by  a  quiet  reser\e  tliat  excludes 
all  reference  to  the  sutterings  and  death  of  the 
martyrs,  :unl  <l\\ells  upon  the  life  and  power  of 
Chri-t,  iKii  u]">ii  His  death  and  passion.  This  art 
is  ni:iiki'.l  l.\  simplicity,  happiness,  and  peace; 
it  de;iN  uiily'  with  such  OT  and  NT  and  other 
subjects  as  could  bear  a  mystical  inti'i  |.ri-t:ition  in 
roiiiiexion  with  the  delivcrami-  :iii.l  liapi.iuess  of 
t  lie  departed  through  the  pow^r  of  (  In  i-t  :iiul  the 
■jrace  of  the  sacraments.  It  is  sdiin'tiiiics  of  a 
tii;;h  technical  order  and  of  great  beauty,  though 
the  ditticulties  of  its  execution  led  to  its  being 
often  sketchy  in  character.  Born  full-grown  in 
the  1st  cent.,  it  passed  in  the  2nd  into  this  second 


AKT 

mystical  period,  declining  after  the  2nd  cent, 
gradually  in  technique,  as  the  pagan  art  was 
declining.  After  the  Peace  of  the  Church  in  the 
4th  cent,  it  passes  into  its  third  period,  when  it.s 
symbolism  is  more  obvious,  more  didactic  and 
dogmatic. 

Sculpture  naturally  does  not  appear  so  early  as 
painting.  The  dark  catacombs  were  no  place  for 
its  display,  though  in  them  it  ha-s  its  beginnings 
in  the  graffiti  or  incised  designs  which  are  common 
on  the  tombs.  These  were  easily  to  be  seen,  and 
could  be  wrought  on  the  spot,  which  was  an  im- 
portant consideration  in  days  when  it  was  difficult 
to  order  Christian  sculpture  from  pagan  shops.  It 
would  be  an  easier  matter  to  have  executed  in  the 
public  studios  a  subject  tliat  could  bear  a  pagan 
interpretation ;  and  thus  it  is  that  we  do  find  a 
statue  of  the  Good  Shepherd  which  probably 
belongs  to  the  3rd  cent.,  though  one  would  natur- 
ally expect  Christians  who  lived  in  pagan  times  to 
be  shy  of  the  use  of  statuary.  In  the  4tli  cent, 
the  growing  custom  of  burial  above  ground, 
coupled  with  the  prosperity  of  the  Church,  en- 
couraged tlie  use  of  sculptured  sarcophagi  (cf. 
Christ  in  Art).  E,\cellent  carved  ivories  arc 
also  found  at  this  period,  but  art  had  been  steadily 
declining  since  Hadrian's  time,  and  after  the  6th 
cent,  no  good  sculpture  of  any  sort  is  found.  There 
was  no  opposition  to  it  in  the  West,  but  in  the  East 
the  Iconoclastic  controversy  (716-867)  led  to  the 
wholesale  destruction  of  'images,'  whether  painted 
or  carved  ;  and  though  it  ended  in  the  restoration 
of  pictures,  there  was  a  tacit  compromise  by  which 
statues  were  not  restored,  in  spite  of  the  decision  in 
favour  of  '  images '  by  the  Second  Council  of  Nictea 
(787).  This  renunciation  of  statuary  in  the  Eastern 
Church  grew  into  a  passionate  aversion  to  its  use 
inside  a  place  of  worship, — an  aversion  which  con- 
tinues stul. 

Among  the  minor  arts  may  be  mentioned  that 
of  gold-glass,  which  commenced  early  in  the  3rd 
cent.,  and  has  preserved  for  us  many  Christian 
pictures  and  symbols.  Miniature  illustration 
came  into  general  use  in  the  4th  cent,  in  MSS 
of  books  of  the  Bible  ;  it  was  not  decorative  like 
that  of  the  Middle  Ages ;  the  miniatures  were 
separated  from  the  te.\t,  and  were  devoted  to 
giving  pictures  of  the  Scripture  events  described, 
much  as  in  present-day  book  illustration.  The 
handicrafts  of  pottery,  metal,  and  jewel  work, 
etc. ,  gradually  adopted  Christian  symbolism, — thus 
it  first  appears  on  lamps  in  the  3rd  century.  The 
magnificence  of  church  plate  after  the  Peace  of  the 
Church  almost  passes  belief.  An  early  instance  is 
given  in  the  Pilgrimage  of  Sylvia  (A.D.  385),  which 
was  discovered  in  1888. 


of  the  Anastasis,  or  of  the  cross  in  Jerusalem  or  in  Bethlehem 
for  there  you  would  see  nothing  but  !?old  and  gems  or  silk  ;  for 
if  you  see  the  vefls,  they  are  all  of  silk,  with  stripes  of  gold  ;  if 
you  see  the  curtains,  they  are  the  same.  Every  kind  of  gold 
and  gemmed  vessel  is  used  on  that  day.  It  is  impossihle  to 
relate  the  number  and  weight  of  the  lights,  tapers,  and  lamps 
and  other  utensils.  And  what  shall  I  say  of  the  adornment  of 
the  fabric,  which  Constantine,  with  all  the  power  of  his  king- 


With  this  may  be  compared  the  gifts,  recorded 
in  the  Liber  Pontificalis,  which  Constantine  made 
to  certain  churches :  among  them  he  gave  to  St. 
Peter's  '3  golden  clialices  with  emeralds  and 
jacinths,  each  having  45  gems  and  weighing  12 
pounds ' ;  and  '  a  golden  paten  with  a  tower  of 
purest  gold,  witli  a  dove  adorned  with  emeralds 
and  jacinths,  and  215  pearls,  weighing  30  pounds'; 
while  to  St.  John  Lateran  he  gave  no  fewer  than 
174  candlesticks  and  cliandeliers  of  various  sorts, 
as  to  wliich  Fleury  reckons  that  altogether  they 
furnished   8730    separate    lights.      Tliese    figures 


ART 


123 


suggest  a  magnificence  of  the  surroundings  of 
worship  that  is  far  removed  from  the  simple  two- 
handled  cup  of  the  ^nd  cent,  fresco  of  the  Fractio 
Panis.  None  tlie  less,  the  fact  that  Constantine's 
gift  was  made  shows  that  there  was  no  tradition 
of  dislike  to  such  magnilicence.  Such  descriptions 
bear  out  the  general  impression  that  the  early 
Church  made  free  use  of  whatever  richness  of  art 
her  opportunities  could  provide,  though  when 
necessity  required  she  was  content,  as  Jerome 
says,  '  to  carry  the  body  of  Christ  in  a  basket  of 
osiers  and  His  blood  in  a  cup  of  glass.' 

Mosaic  art,  of  which  there  are  extant  such 
splendid  examples  in  the  churches  of  the  Imperial 
cities,  Rome  and  Ravenna  and  Constantinople, 
followed  upon  architecture,  and  flourislied  between 
the  4th  and  7th  centuries.  Its  magnificence  and 
durability  make  it  to  us  the  most  characteristic 
feature  of  the  Christian  art  of  that  period.  The 
principal  subjects  represented  are  the  great  figures 
of  Christ  enthroned,  figures  of  the  Apostles  and 
other  saints,  apocalyptic  and  other  symbolic  sub- 
jects, scenes  from  the  Old  and  New  Testaments, 
and  pictures  of  imiierial  personages  and  bLsliops. 

In  architecture  there  have  been  many  theories 
as  to  the  origin  of  the  basilica.  It  is  now  very 
generally  agreed  that  the  Christian  church  is  a 
development  of  the  classical  atrium,  the  central 
colonnaded  court  of  dwelling-houses  in  the  Imperial 
age.  The  earliest  gatherings  for  worship  took  place 
in  the  atrium  of  some  wealthy  convert,  and  were 
thus  surrounded  with  all  the  greater  and  lesser  arts 
of  the  period.  Now,  the  Greek  and  Roman  temples 
were  constructed  for  a  worsliip  in  which  both  the 
altar  and  the  worshippers  stood  out.side.  The  Chris- 
tian worship  began  in  the  home  (Ro  16^  and  perhaps 
Ac  2^"),  and  tlie  purpose  of  tlie  earliest  churches 
was  to  hold  a  large  number  of  worshippers  before 
the  Lord's  Table  ;  thus,  though  the  style  was  tliat 
of  the  age,  the  manner  of  its  use  was  ditt'erent 
from  the  first.  The  basilica  is  a  distinctively 
Christian  building,  marked  out  by  its  oblong 
shape,  clerestory,  colonnaded  aisles,  and  apse.  It 
was  probably  in  process  of  development  in  the 
centuries  before  the  Peace  of  the  Church, — we 
read,  e.g.,  of  church  buildings  in  the  newly  found 
Canons  of  Hippolytits,  c.  220-250  A.D., — though  no 
extant  edifice  is  known  (unless  the  startling  theory 
just  put  forth  by  Dr.  Richter  and  Mr.  C.  Taylor  in 
their  books  on  S.  Maria  Jlaggiore  in  Rome  comes 
to  be  accepted — the  theory  Ijeing  that  this  church 
and  its  mosaics  belong  to  the  2nd  century).  The 
churches  destroyed  by  Diocletian  were  rebuilt 
under  Constantine,  and  it  is  to  the  Constantinian 
period  that  the  earliest  surviving  basilicas  belong, 
whether  in  Italy,  Syria,  or  Africa.  In  the  East 
there  was  later  one  marked  development,  the  use 
of  the  dome,  which  culminated  under  Justinian  in 
St.  Sofia,  and  has  continued  to  be  characteristic 
of  the  Greek  and  Russian  churches  down  to  our 
own  day.  In  the  West  the  basilica  continued  un- 
changed till  the  8th,  and  in  some  parts  till  the 
10th  cent.,  when  it  was  modified  by  the  growth  of 
what  is  called  Romanesque  architecture,  of  which 
Gothic  is  but  a  development ;  but  the  main  features 
of  the  basilica — nave,  clerestory,  aisles,  projecting 
sanctuary,  and  often  transepts— remain  unclianged 
to-day. 

The  decline  of  Western  art  in  what  are  called 
the  Dark  Ages  is  often  attributed  to  Christianity 
and  its  supposed  liatred  of  human  nature.  'The 
truth  is,  that  while  Byzantium  maintained  a  high 
culture  far  better  ami  longer  than  used  to  be  sup- 
posed, tlie  whole  Roman  civilization  well-nigh  dis- 
appeared under  the  invasions  of  the  northern 
races;  these  peoples  wci.-  conM'itc.l  and  gradually 
civilized  by  Chri-stianit  v.  an.l,  as  their  civilization 
grew  up,   their  art  dexclopcl   from   the   barbaric 


124 


ART 


ASCElSrSTON 


stage  till  it  culminated  in  the  perfection  of  Gothic. 
Tliat  art  in  its  development  had  the  limitations 
of  the  young  races ;  it  developed  more  rapidly  in 
architecture  and  arcliitectural  carving  than  in 
jiainting  or  statuary  ;  but  all  this  has  nothing  to 
do  with  Christianity,  as  writers  like  Taine  sup- 
pose— '  If  one  considers  the  stained  glass  windows, 
or  the  windows  in  the  cathedrals,  or  the  rude 
paintings,  it  appears  as  if  the  human  race  had 
become  degenerate,  and  its  blood  had  been  im- 
poverished :  jmle  saints,  distorted  martyrs,  hermits 
Avitliered  and  unsubstantial,'  etc.  (Phil,  de  I'Art, 
88,  352,  4th  ed.).  Passages  like  this  are  beside 
the  mark ;  the  art  of  the  Middle  Ages  was  full- 
blooded  enough,  and  was  admiralde  even  in  its 
rude  beginnings,  when  it  had  not  learnt  the  most 
difficult  of  lessons  —  the  representation  of  the 
human  form.  In  architecture  and  tlie  kindred 
arts  the  Middle  Ages  brought  a  new  revelation  of 
beauty  into  the  world, — an  art  that  stands  alone, 
not  only  for  its  lofty  spirituality  and  technical 
excellence,  but  also  for  its  homely  democratic 
humanity. 

Beyond  this  it  is  not  necessary  to  go,  since  we 
are  not  dealing  with  the  history  of  art  in  general, 
but  only  with  the  relation  between  it  and  Chris- 
tianitj-.  It  has  been  necessary  to  sketch  the 
beginnings  because  of  the  widespread  idea  that 
Christianity  started  with  an  aversion  to  the  fine 
arts,  and  was  reconciled  to  them  only  as  worldli- 
ness  increased  upon  her.  Modern  archieology  has 
proved  this  idea  to  be  mistaken ;  and,  having 
pointed  out  \\hat  is  now  known  as  to  the  early 
use  of  art  by  the  Church,  we  need  not  follow  the 
subsequent  history  of  painting  and  sculpture,  of 
architecture  and  the  handicrafts,  in  their  develop- 
ments and  decadences,  except  to  say  that,  though 
art  in  the  Christian  era  has  been  sometimes  rude 
and  sometimes  pagan,  it  has  at  its  best — when 
most  perfect  in  technioue  and  most  imbued  with 
spiritual  purjwse — excelled  all  else  that  the  world 
has  been  able  to  produce  :  even  tlie  perfect  statuary 
of  Greece  was  outrivalled  by  such  an  artist  as 
Michael  Angelo,  who  reveals  not  only  the  body 
but  the  soul  within  tlie  body  also.  The  best  Chris- 
tian art  is  better  than  anything  that  has  gone 
before,  because  it  has  more  to  express. 

Christendom,  then,  be^an  its  career  in  natural 
association  witli  art ;  and  art  is  Christian,  not  by 
reason  of  any  peculiarity  of  style,  but  when  it  is 
informed  by  the  Christian  ideal.  Art  is  not  an 
end  in  itself,  but  a  language ;  the  greatest  artificers, 
like  the  greatest  writers,  are  those  wlio  have  the 
greatest  things  to  say,  and  the  fineness  of  any  art 
is,  as  Ru.skin  saj's,  'an  index  of  tlio  moral  purity 
andmajesty  of  the  em..ti..n  it  (  x|n,— ^t-s.'  Pagan 
reaction  has,  indeed,  nini  •  tlum  okc  taken  refuge 
in  art,  as  it  has  also  takrn  niuui'  \\\  science  ;  but 
the  fault  does  not  lie  in  either.  There  must  always 
be  reaction  when  the  Cliurch  refuses  to  recognize 
the  truth  of  science  or  the  seriousness  of  art.  And 
art  is  serious,  for  it  is  one  of  man's  primal  gifts, 
and,  like  nature,  one  of  his  most  constant  edu- 
cators. Art  is  necessary  because,  in  Ruskin's 
words,  '  life  without  industi-y  is  guilt,  and  industry 
without  art  is  brutality ' ;  and  though,  as  he  found, 
religious  men  in  his  time  despised  art,  thej  de- 
spised it  at  the  peril  of  religion.  He  was  himself 
the  greatest  exponent  of  tlie  religious  mission  of 
art  and  of  its  moral  value.  And  his  conclusion 
was  that  tin- luot  of  all  good  art  lies  in  'the  two 
.--riiMal  iii-tiints  of  humanity,  the  K.ve  of  order 
and  ihi;  h'M-  i>t'  kindness,'  the  one  associated  with 
ri-hteousness,  tlie  other  with  charity.  The  '  love 
of  beauty,'  he  proceeds,  '  is  an  essential  part  of  all 
healthy  human  nature,  and  though  it  can  long 
coexist  with  states  of  life  in  many  other  respects 
unvirtuous,  it  is  itself  wholly  good,— the  direct  ad- 


versary of  envy,  avarice,  mean  worldly  care,  and 
especially  of  cruelty.  It  entirely  perishes  when 
these  are  wilfully  indulged.'  If  this  be  so,  it  is 
indeed  of  the  gospel,  and  excellent  in  so  far  as  it 
is  close  to  the  spirit  of  Christ.  If  this  be  so, — and 
no  man  had  a  better  right  to  make  bold  generaliza- 
tions on  the  subject  than  Ruskin, — artists  and 
preachers  can  agree  in  his  conclusion  that  the 
great  arts  '  have  had,  and  can  have,  but  three  prin- 
cipal directions  of  purpose :  first,  that  of  enforc- 
ing the  religion  of  men  ;  secondly,  that  of  perfect- 
ing their  ethical  state ;  thirdly,  tliat  of  doing  them 
material  ! 


.irticle  of :  W.  Lowries  Chriatian  Art  and  Archceology  (1901) ; 
Westcott's  essav  on  'The  Relation  of  Christianitv  to  Art'  in  )iis 
Commentary  on  the  Epistles  of  St.  Jnh  n  (18S3) ;  A.  J.  Maclean's 
Recent  Discooeries  lltustialim  Eadu  Christian  L\fe  and 
Worship  (I90i);  an  article  on  'Art  .-aid  Puritanism'  by  J.  \V. 
Mackail  in  Saint  George,  vol  vii.  (l;in4) ;  while  out  of  the  multi- 
tude of  Ruskin's  works  the  concluding  extract  is  taken  from 
his  Lectures  on  Art  (18S7).  P.  DliARMER. 

ASA.— A  king  of  Judali  (c.  918-878  B.C.),  named 
in  our  Lord's  genealogy,  Mt  1"-. 

ASCENSION The  Ascension  is  the  name  ap- 
plied to  that  event  in  which  the  Risen  Christ 
finally  parted  from  His  disciples  and  passed  into 
the  heavens.  The  traditional  view  is  based  on  the 
passage  Ac  l'-'^,  supported  by  Mk  16'»,  Lk  24*-'-=' 
(which  narrate  the  event),  Jn  &■  20"  (which  look 
forward  to  it),  Eph  48"',  1  Ti  S^\  1  P  3-^  He  4'-' 
(which  imply  it).  To  the  foregoing  list  many 
would  add  references  of  Christ  to  His  departure 
(from  the  context  not  identifiable  with  His  death), 
Mt  91=  26"-  ="•  ''^  Jn  7-^  14-16 ;  and  allusions  in 
Acts,  Epistles,  Revelation,  to  Clirist  being  '  seated 
at  the  right  hand  of  God  '  (Ac  ^  3=i  5^'  7'«  IS*^-'', 
Ph  2»,  He  P  2"  12=,  Rev  P^  5«  etc. ).  The  details  are 
drawn  from  Ac  1  :  the  .scene,  the  Mt.  of  Olives  ; 
the  time,  forty  day.s  after  the  Resurrection  ;  the 
occasion,  a  conversation  concerning  the  Kingdom  ; 
the  act  of  parting  in  being  taken  up  ;  the  vanish- 
ing in  a  cloud  ;  the  vision  of  two  men  in  white 
apjjarel  and  their  announcement  of  His  coming 
again  :  all  indicating  a  bodily  disapjiearance  by  an 
upward  movement  into  the  sky. 

The  bodily  Ascension  is  vindicated  as  possible, 
as  necessary,  and  as  adequately  evidenced. 

1.  Possibility. — The  wondertulness  of  the  event 
is  not  denied,  but  its  acceptance  is  urged  by  a  varied 
appeal.  Sometimes  the  reference  is  to  the  Divine 
power  operating  in  the  fulfilment  of  the  Divine 
purpose  of  salvation.  The  Ascension  is  then  re- 
garded as  part  and  parcel  of  the  redemptive  scheme, 
and  not  more  wonderful  than  the  other  redemptive 
facts,  e.g.  Incarnation,  Resurrection,  etc.  Or  the 
reference  is  to  our  ignorance  of  the  physical  uni- 
verse and  its  constitution.  '  Miraculous  Chris- 
tianity '  does  not  '  imply  an  anti-scientific  view 
of  the  world'  (cf.  Goldwin  Smith,  Guesses  at  the 
Riddle  of  E.cistcnce,  p.  165).  There  is  a  vast  un- 
comprehended  region  in  nature  not  yet  within  tlie 
sweei>  of  human  faculties,  which  Science  has  not 
fathomed  and  to  whose  existence  she  has  become 
recently  profoundly  sensitive.  The  world,  as 
science  interprets  its  phenomena,  is  not  the  com- 
plete world  which  may  hold  potentialities  permissive 
of  such  an  event  as  the  Ascension.  Or,  again,  the 
reference  may  be  to  our  ignorance  of  the  nature  of 
the  ascending  body.  Grant  the  cogency  of  the 
scientific  objection  to  a  body  having  gravity  and 
normal  dimensions  rising  in  upward  flight  to  a 
distance,  is  it  certain  that  such  was  the  body  of 
Christ?  There  are  hints  which  furnish  the  op- 
posite suggestion.  The  only  sure  statement  that 
may  be  affirmed  with  regard  to  it  is  that  it  was  the 
saiiie,  yet  not  the  same,  as  the  pre-Resurrection 


ASCENSION 


ASCENSION 


125 


body :  it  v  as  a  body  which  issued  f loiu  the  sepulchre 
with  identity  complete,  yet  physically  changed, 
existing  under  new  conditions  of  which  we  have 
only  the  faintest  apprehension.  Physically,  the 
Ascension  meant  a  complete  change  of  conditions, 
the  passing  into  a  mode  of  existence  having  no 
longer  direct  physical  relations  with  our  ordinary 
experience,  whither  we  cannot  follow  by  the  exer- 
cise of  our  sensitive  intelligence,  and  which  in  our 
lack  of  material  for  comparison  we  cannot  even 
imaginatively  picture.  The  conjecture,  further,  is 
hazarded  that  if  the  process  of  spiritualizing  the 
body  was  at  the  time  of  the  Ascension  so  complete 
as  to  render  it  invisible  to  ordinary  sense,  the  pro- 
cess of  preparing  the  spiritual  perception  of  the 
disciples  was  by  that  time  also  complete,  so  that 
what  was  hidden  from  others  was  manifested  to 
them.  Recent  research  also  into  psychical  ac- 
tivities, l)oth  conscious  and  sub-conscious,  has 
brought  the  question  into  renewed  prominence 
especially  among  scientific  men,  and  that  in  no 
spirit  of  hostility  to  the  traditional  view. 

2.  Necessity.— The  necessity  of  the  Ascension  is 
obvious.  It  was  at  once  the  natural  conseriuence 
of  all  that  preceded  and  the  only  sufficient  cause 
of  the  marvellous  experiences  that  followed.  The 
risen  state  and  the  forty  days  demanded  its  occur- 
rence. Apart  from  any  explicit  teaching  on  the  sub- 
ject during  those  days,  the  situation  of  itself  must 
nave  provoked  reflection  and  pointed  to  an  exit 
from  earthly  scenes  not  by  way  of  mortal  dissolu- 
tion but  rather  of  glorification.  The  interval  is 
clearly  transitory.  The  relationship  between  Jesus 
and  the  disciples  evinces  a  certain  reserve  on  His 
side,  a  certain  surprise  and  peri^lexity  on  theirs. 
It  partakes  in  all  the  mystery  that  hangs  over  the 
world  of  spirits  in  general,  as  well  as  in  that  per- 
taining specially  to  the  borderland  of  that  world, 
the  region  where  thought  and  matter  meet.  His 
appearances  are  only  occasional.  His  movements 
are  mysterious.  His  life  is  not  of  the  bodily  order. 
Whether  the  theory  of  progressive  spiritualizing 
be  tenable  or  not,— the  conception  is  very  obscure, 
— the  facts  of  physical  transformation  and  spiritual 
enhancement  are  indubitable.  The  disciples  are 
convinced  by  the  empty  tomb  and  the  apparitional 
body  that  He  had  not  seen  corruption  in  the  grave, 
yet  do  not  always  recognize  Him  as  He  appears. 
He  is  no  longer  of  them.  Their  mind  must  have 
been  challenged  again  and  again  to  inquire,  What 
next?  It  was  neither  fitting  that  He  should  die 
arain,  nor  that  He  should  remain  on  the  earth  in 
His  then  state :  death  He  had  already  sounded 
and  survived,  while  for  His  departure  He  had 
aforetinie_  prepared  them.  Furtlier,  His  Person 
claimed  it.  His  self- consciousness  during  tlie 
earthly  ministry,  and  the  teaching  it  prompted ; 
the  definite  impression  of  these  on  the  minds  of 
the  disciples  leading  to  the  expectation  of  further 
developments  of  His  Being ;  as  well  as  the  most 
distinct  intimations  of  the  preparatory  character 
of  His  present  activity,  the  specialty  of  His  saving 
mission,  the  uniqueness  of  His  relation  to  the 
Father  and  heaven,— all  combined  in  an  impressive 
witness  to  the  assurance  that  not  this  world  but 
the  heavenly  life  was  His  proper  and  rightful 
si)here,  and  that  until  He  had  attained  to  it  He 
was  not  in  possession  of  His  own,  the  glory  He 
had  with  the  Father  before  the  world  was,  which 
was  as  yet  for  the  most  part  hid,  revealing  itself 
only  in  hints,  and  which  He  was  bound  to  re- 
assume,  accentuated,  so  to  speak,  with  all  that 
virtue  He  had  won  in  His  human  nature  for  be- 
stowal on  men.  In  His  human  life  He  had  been 
the  subject  of  development  in  time,— a  develop- 
ment, it  is  true,  not  from  evil  or  imperfection 
to  tlie  good  and  perfect,  but  from  strength  to 
strength,  involving  living  growth,  a  process  pre- 


sumably capable  of  reaching  its  end.  Underlying 
that  process  lay  His  Divine  Being,  in  its  inherent 
power  incapable  of  growth,  no  attainment  but 
original  endowment.  The  return  to  the  Father 
in  the  Ascension-act  marked  the  perfection  of  the 
human  process  in  harmonious  realization  within 
the  Divine  powers  of  His  Person. 

Still  further,  the  work  oi  Christ  remained  ineom- 
jilete  without  the  Ascension.  It  has  been  objected 
against  His  teaching  that  it  is  incomplete  as  a 
system  and  incoherent  in  its  details.  There  is 
ground  for  the  complaint.  His  ministry  bears 
traces  throughout  of  its  preparatory  character. 
His  teaching  is  at  times  jmrabolic,  Mis  acts  often 
typical.  His  method  as  much  an  ellbrt  to  create  a 
new  power  of  insight  as  to  oiler  a  new  sura  of 
truths.  He  holds  out  hopes  of  a  more  immediate 
personal,  if  spiritual,  direction,  under  the  force  of 
which  a  richer  fulness  of  His  truth  shall  be  gained. 
He  anticipates  future  acts  of  His  work  which  are 
not  simply  symbolic  of  His  utterances,  but  neces- 
sary to  their  interpretation.  A  future  is  always 
with  Him :  separate  from  the  present  in  its  con- 
ditions and  gifts  and  in  the  nature  of  His  agency, 
so  separate  as  justly  to  be  entitled  to  the  name  of 
a  new  'dispensation.'  The  Ascension  marks  the 
transition.  It  has  no  substantial  independence. 
It  closes  the  public  ministry ;  it  opens  the  con- 
tinuation of  that  ministry  in  the  new  age  of  the 
Spirit.  It  announces  that  the  great  human  facts 
necessary  to  redemption  are  finished,  and  that  tlie 
results  are  henceforth  to  be  increasingly  realized. 
His  saving  energies  are  consummated  in  His  in- 
carnate and  glorified  Personality  :  the  departure  is 
necessitated  that  they  may  not  remain  a  legacy  of 
dead  and  inoperative  information.  For  this  reason 
the  Ascension,  as  thepassing  into  exaltation,  stands 
at  the  beginning  of  the  fnsk  x/iin'/iKil  ixprricnces 
of  the  Apostolic  age.  It  eN|ilaiii,s  the  extraordinary 
change  in  the  mind  of  the  ^\po.>tles.  Tlicy  felt  an 
intense  conviction.  Because  there  had  been  no 
loss,  their  conception  of  Christ  has  been  cleared, 
His  exaltation  seen.  His  perpetual  action  promised. 
Under  the  new  light  they  jiroceed  to  organize  the 
momentous  work  of  the  CInirch.  On  precisely  the 
same  basis  they  instruct  their  hearers  and  develop 
their  doctrine.  The  centre  of  the  missionary  dis- 
courses is  the  Exalted  Christ ;  intimate  communion 
with  Him  exalted  is  normative  to  their  thought. 
That  truth  fills  up  their  entire  consciousness  and 
crushes  out  every  other  thought.  It  forms  tlie 
firm  foundation  'on  which  their  whole  life  and 
mind  are  built  u]).  Tliey  are  witnesses  to  one 
great  fact.  The  XT  doeuinents  set  forth  much  in 
the  way  of  new  truths  and  new  etiiics,  but  their 
distinctive  testimony  is  to  a  new  intense  experience, 
which  has  altered  the  entire  character  of  those  who 
share  it.  That  experience  is  everywhere  traced  in 
direct  derivation  from  Christ  glorified. 

But  the  Christ  glorified  is  the  Jesus  of  history. 
The  new  experience  is  related  to  the  acts  of  His 
life  in  a  vital  way.  A  distinction  may  be  drawn 
between  them,  but  only  as  two  aspects  of  one 
reality,  not  as  two  terms,  the  one  of  which  may  be 
regarded  as  the  mythic  symbol  of  the  other,  fioth 
terms  must  be  safeguarded.  Hence,  if  the  Lord 
now  glorified  was  once  within  the  conditions  of 
human  experience,  cognoscible  to  human  faculties, 
and  has  passed  from  them,  the  question  cannot  be 
silenced,  Hoto  did  He  pass?  The  essential  point  is 
His  passage  out  of  those  earthly  conditions  of  life 
within  which  He  had  hitherto  been  known.  Must 
not  such  passing  have  been  visible?  The  bodily 
Ascension  is  the  answer. 

3.  Historicitij. — The  evidence  for  the  Ascension 
is  diiect  and  indirect,  (a)  Tlie  direct  witness  is 
meagre.  There  is  but  one  description  that  may 
serve  as  a  basis  of  fact,  v^z.  the  narrative  in  Ac 


126 


ASCENSION 


ASCENSION 


11-12  'pj,g  other  passages  (Mk  16'-',  Jyk  24")  are 
under  the  highest  critical  suspicion  as  being  not 
original  to  their  texts.  They  suffer,  moreover,  under 
two  further  disadvantages :  their  vagueness,  their 
summary  character.  They  appear  to  give  results, 
being  less  accounts  of  detail  than  confessions  of 
faith.  Their  value  is  similar  in  character  to  that 
of  the  Ejiistles ;  tliey  testify  to  the  existence  of 
a  widespread  crystallized  tradition  in  the  first 
century.  Does  the  record  in  Ac  1'"'-  give  more? 
It  belongs  to  the  less  authentic  of  the  sources  of 
the  author.  If  the  author  be  St.  Luke,  he  cannot 
be  reckoned  an  eye-witness ;  but  lie  may  furnish 
the  information  of  an  eye-witness.  Tlie  narrative 
bears  every  trace  of  careful  statement  and  of  non- 
reflective  features.  Even  if  indications  of  idealiza- 
tion of  the  past  occur  in  this  first  part  of  the  book 
elsewhere,  there  are  none  here  ;  the  phrasing  is 
simple  and  matter  of  fact ;  tliere  is  no  sentiment, 
nor  sorrow :  only  a  glad  vision  evoking  worsliip, 
challenging  thought,  inspiring  courage.  Tlie  dis- 
crepancies between  this  account  and  that  in  Lk. 
are  probably  superficial.  Bethany  lay  on  tlie 
further  or  eastern  slope  of  the  Mt.  of  Olives,  about 
a  mile  down  from  the  summit.  The  road  from 
Jerusalem  passed  along  over  the  lower  wooded 
ridges,  on  one  of  which  in  all  likelihood,  just  above 
the  village  (eus  Trp6s)  over  against  it,  the  Ascension 
took  place.  There  was  another  route  leading 
nearer  the  summit,  on  which  later  tradition  sought 
the  site  and  erected  a  church.  Neither  Acts  nor 
Lk.  means  to  give  an  exact  .spot.  The  fragmentari- 
ness  of  the  narrative  has  created  difficulty.  Several 
considerations  are  adduced  in  reply.  For  one  thing, 
the  Ascension  is  plainly  regarcled  as  belonging  to 
the  Kesurrection  appearances,  viz.  as  the  appear- 
ance in  which  Christ's  final  vanishing  took  place, 
and  notable  simply  on  tliat  ground.  For  another, 
it  is  ])ointed  out  that  the  NT  writers  take  a  view 
of  history  which  does  not  correspond  to  modern 
requirements.  They  write  not  to  prove  truths 
denied,  but  to  illustrate  truths  accepted.  They 
do  not  seek  to  prove  the  occurrence  of  events 
or  to  escape  '  discrepancies ' ;  they  seek  rather  to 
emphasize  the  significance  of  events.  And  to  the 
significance  of  the  Ascension  there  is  abundant 
reference.  A  suggestion,  again,  of  great  interest 
as  justifying  the  sparse  particulars  given  in  the 
Gospels,  is  that  a  sort  of  convention  forbade  the 
introduction  of  the  theme  into  a  narrative  of 
Christ's  life,  the  Kesurrection  being  regarded  as 
the  culminating  jioint  of  His  earthly  existence. 

(b)  Tlie  indirect  evidence  is  remarkably  strong. 
Both  in  the  two  Gospels  which  do  not  record  the 
event  and  in  the  Epistles  and  discourses  of  Acts 
as  well  as  in  the  visions  of  the  Apocalypse  it  is 
implied.  We  thus  have  reference  to  the  belief 
in  sources  for  the  greater  part  earlier  than  the 
Gospels.  St.  Matthew  represents  Christ  as  fore- 
telling it  (26^^) ;  St.  John  puts  similar  foreshadow- 
ings  into  His  mouth  (G^^  13»-33  14=8  16'- "•  "■  =«) ;  St. 
Paul  and  St.  Peter  habitually  assume  it  as  a  fact 
(Ac  2''  3"  5'i  13»-",  Eph  4?-^^  Ph  1=^  2'  S'",  Col  3', 
1  Th  l'»  4"-",  1  Ti  3'8,  1  P  3==) ;  St.  Stephen  declares 
the  same  (Ac  7'=-  =«).  The  author  of  the  Epistle  to 
the  Hebrews  is  equally  explicit  (He  2^  4'-'  6"-  -"  7-" 
g24  iQi:.  13  \2-),  In  the  Apocalypse  manypassages 
corroborate  (Rev  1"  5"  14"  lO'""'"  22').  The  con- 
viction of  His  Ascension  fills  the  mind  of  the 
Apostolic  age.  It  is  nowliere  insisted  upon  or 
proved,  it  is  assumed  as  a  fact  among  the  other 
facts  of  Christ's  life,  as  consistent  with  them,  and 
as  real.  Tliere  is  no  suggestion  that  it  is  an  idea 
less  historical  than  the  other  features  described. 

4.  Modern  departures  from  the  traditional  vie%v.~ 
Within  recent  years  the  traditional  view  of  the 
Ascension  has  been  vigorously  contested  in  various 
interests.    From  the  side  of  naturalistic  theory  the 


idea  of  corporeal  ascension  has  been  assailed  as 
absurd.  Different  rationalistic  tendencies  have 
scouted  the  event  as  delusion  (classical  representa- 
tives are  Renan  in  France ;  Strauss  in  Germany  ; 
Baur,  Schenkel),  or  myth,  whose  growth  was 
natural  from  the  presence  of  contributory  elements 
in  tlie  intellectual  and  religious  atmosphere  of  the 
age  which  were  not  only  not  inliarraonious  with 
such  an  idea  and  event,  but  even  rendered  it 
necessary  (cf.  Keim,  M.  Arnold,  '  Supernatural 
Religion,'  etc.).  Even  the  necessities  of  a  true 
spiritual  experience  have  been  urged  against  it  by 
at  least  one  considerable  school  (viz.  that  of 
Ritschl),  which  has  vastly  enriched  present-day 
theological  movements  by  a  singularly  impressive 
attempt  to  interpret  the  Christian  facts  through 
analysis  of  the  ethical  experience  of  the  Christian 
per.sonality,  since  such  experience,  it  is  maintained, 
best  grows  and  is  best  explained  by  communion 
with  the  Exalted  Christ,  conceived  not  as  '  reach- 
ing down  within  the  realm  of  our  earthly  ex- 
perience,' but  as  'otherwise  than  we  see  Him  in 
the  mirror  of  history'  (Herrmann,  Communion  if 
the  Christian  with  God,  Bks.  ii.,  iii.), — a  conception 
to  which  the  Evangelical  record  as  it  .stands  is  not 
adequate.  In  association  with  those  attempts  the 
relevant  textual  evidence  lias  been  painstakingly 
sifted  and  found  insufficient  (as,  e.g.,  latest  by 
Schmiedel  in  his  Encyc.  Bibl.  article  on  '  Resurrec- 
tion and  Ascension  Narratives ').  The  departures 
from  the  traditional  view  here  referred  to  are 
better  dealt  with  under  RESURRECTION.  Here  we 
may  point  merely  to  two  considerations.  First, 
the  whole  controversy  between  orthodox  and  liberal 
thought  as  to  the  miraculous  features  in  the  history 
of  Christ's  life  has  entered  on  a  new  phase.  A 
separation  is  being  made  between  the  'Jesus  of 
history  '  and  the  'Christ  of  faith'  identified  by 
ecclesiastical  dogma.  It  is  admitted  that  wha't 
we  have  in  the  Gospel  narratives  was  written  after 
the  identification  was  practically  complete.  The 
'Jesus  of  history,'  therefore,  can  be  resuscitated 
only  by  going  behind  even  the  oldest  historical 
sources ;  where,  the  presumption  is,  it  will  be 
found  that  the  miraculous  incidents  disappear. 
The  various  sources  whence  the  '  myth  of  Christ '  is 
derivable  are  inquired  into ;  the  ignorance  of  the 
times,  tlie  manifest  |.i(i\iilircs  of  His  biographers, 
and  the  natural  i.n.l.n'  y  in  Oriental  minds  to  ex- 
pand fact  into  falil''.  Ill"  hypotheses  of  fraud,  or 
delusion,  or  visimi,  pirviously  entertained,  are  dis- 
carded and  '  the  intellectual  atmosphere  of  the  age ' 
substituted.  In  particular,  in  the  matter  of  the 
Ascension  emphasis  is  laid  on  (a)  current  Jewish 
ideas  concerning  the  departure  of  great  men  of 
God ;  (i)  alleged  similar  ideas  in  ethnic  religions ;  (c) 
contemporary  apotheosis  of  the  Roman  emperors  ; 
(d)  the  natural  working  of  the  human  mind,  vener- 
ating a  great  name,  to  idealize  the  life  and  invest 
its  close  with  marvel — as  all  contributory  to  the 
belief.  Such  analogies  are  pressed  with  ingenuity. 
It  may  be  rejoined,  however,  that  in  reality  they 
are  not  in  point.  Prevailing  mental  conceptions  do 
not  seem  even  to  have  favoured  the  acceptance  of 
tlie  doctrine,  not  to  speak  of  having  originated  it. 
Tlie  narratives  give  the  consistent  impression  of  its 
novelty.  It  appears  as  not  native,  but  alien  to  the 
disciples'  thouglit.  Comparison  with  the  assump- 
tion of  Enoch  and  of  Moses  or  the  translation  of 
Elijah,  or  with  the  deification  of  the  Imperial 
representative,  or  with  the  Buddha-legeiul,  only 
serves  to  demonstrate  its  striking  originality,  ft 
has  a  character,  place,  and  use  that  cannot  be 
assigned  to  these.  It  is  not  in  the  same  plane  or 
in  the  same  department  of  thought.  It  possesses 
au  inevitableness,  a  conscious  connexion  with  pre- 
vious conditions,  a  naturalness  as  another  and  new 
*  C(.  Browning,  Christmaa  Eve,  xv. 


ASCENSION 


ASCENSION 


127 


aspect  of  Jesus'  life  yet  continuous  witli  and  neces- 
sarily complementary  to  it,  which  they  all  alike 
lack.  It  lacks  their  formality,  spectacular  effect, 
incoherence  with  real  life.  The  motives,  more- 
over, which  prompted  the  Senate  to  give  each 
successive  emperor  a  place  among-  thi'  k'"'^-  '"'  "'t' 
Hindu  devotee  to  regard  his  hero  .-i^  ilivmc,  :ii.' 
easy  to  trace  :  in  the  former  instaiu'o  pulitiiiil  ;  in 
the  latter,  religious  indeed,  but  too  niuva  fur  tlie 
.Tew,  who  had  no  natural  tendency  to  deify — such 
a  tendency  has  not  been  proved,  it  is  incompatible 
with  the  "exclusive  and  stubborn  monotheism  of 
the  race.  The  belief  enshrines  in  simple  and  reti- 
cent phrase  the  reception  by  the  disciples  of  a  new 
fact  of  His  Person,  which  brings  new  light  and 
adds  new  mystery,  yet  for  which  they  had  been 
prepared. 

Secondly,  the  attempt  to  separate  the  Christian 
facts  from  Christian  experience  is  not  well  based. 
We  may  rejoice  to  witness  that  the  life  of  faith 
now  is  the  being  in  Christ  in  a  riclier  .sense  than 
the  being  with  Him  before  He  ascended.  The 
acknowledgment,  however,  neither  disproves  the 
necessity  for  His  life  before  the  Ascen.sion,  nor 
proves  tlie  necessity  to  visualize  it  after  the  Ascen- 
sion. The  Increase  of  faith  may  not,  indeed,  come 
by  a  mere  '  return  to  Jesus '  as  He  was  known 
before  His  death  ;  but  how  can  He  as  ascended  be 
fruitfully  contemplated  by  ignoring  His  earthly 
existence  ?  Then,  again,  wherein  lay  the  need  for 
the  disciples  to  give  outward  form  to  their  emo- 
tions more  than  for  n.s  now  ?  The  narratives  they 
have  given  us,  it  is  averred,  are  due  to  their 
spiritual  imagination  embodying  in  mythic  form 
their  spiritual  experience.  The  disciple  lives  by 
faith  and  not  by  sight,  it  is  argued,  hence  Christian 
experience  must  dispense  with  outward  events.* 
There  is  in  both  statements  a  gross  ex,aggeration. 
The  full  glory  of  Christ's  Person  is,  of  course,  im- 
measurable :  no  vision  or  bodily  appearance  can 
possibly  exhibit  it  except  in  faint  traces.  Is  the 
vision  therefore  useless  ?  The  contrary  is  the  very 
principle  of  the  Incarnation ;  God  revea!ling  Himself 
in  personal,  eventful  form.  'The  Christian  facts 
underlie  Christian  faith,  and  make  it  progressively 
eflective '  (Westcott,  '  Work,'  2).  And  this  because 
they  manifest  the  Person  of  Christ,  by  them  His 
Person  is  brought  within  the  range  of  our  ex- 
perience ;  they  are  the  channel  of  His  communicat- 
ing His  power  to  us.  The  facts  and  the  faith  are 
vitally  related.  They  form  one  reality.  They 
are  distinguishable  as  aspects  of  that  reality,  but 
not  to  be  separated.  In  explaining  the  rea*lity  it 
is  not  legitimate  to  make  the  distinction  and  then 
proceed  to  reject  one  of  its  terms,  resolving,  as 
may  happen,  on  the  one  hand,  the  experience  into 
an  aftermath  of  the  event ;  or,  on  the  other,  the 
event  into  a  vivid  picture  of  the  experience.  In 
both  cases  the  witness  is  invalidated  by  imagina- 
tion. The  second  of  those  tendencies  is  aggres- 
sively in  vogue.  If  carried  to  its  logical  issue,  it 
must  eviscerate  the  Ascension-experience  of  Christ 
of  all  objective  substance,  and  expunge  the  narra- 
tive from  the  gospel.  But  to  do  this  is  to  create 
a  lacuna  in  the  facts  which  will  prove  intolerable. 

On  the  whole,  the  new  method  of  psychological 
analysis  of  the  primitive  Church  consciousness  has 
brought  no  new  danger.  In  at  least  three  respects 
it  is  beneficial  :  it  has  given  the  coup  dc  grace  to 
earlier  negations  (cf.  Schmiedel  in  above  cited 
article) ;  it  has  withdrawn  attention  from  the 
details  to  the  belief  itself  as  the  heart  of  the 
question,  as  the  better  mind  of  the  Church  insists ; 
*  The  references  in  the  foreproing  section  are  to  the  school  of 
Ritsohl  on  the  one  hand  (cf.  Herrmann,  Communion  with  God, 
etc.),  and  to  such  theistio  theologians  as  Martineaii  and  Estlin 
Carpenter  (cf.  the  former's  Seat  of  AuthorUi/,  also  sermon  on 
•Ascension 'in  vol.  entitled  J\'o(wnaJ  Duites ;  and  the  latter's 
The  Fust  Three  Goepels. 


it  has  broadened  the  range  of  points  to  be  con 
sidered,  opening  the  door  for  a  class  familiar  to 
traditionalists  but  hitherto  excluded  by  advanced 
critical  investigation. 

5.  Gcncml  conseqiiences  for  Christian  faith.— 
Belief  in  Christ's  Ascension  involves  several  general 
consequences  of  an  interesting  kind.  From  the 
earliest  time  it  was  seen,  c.rj.,  to  be  a  type  of  the 
ascension  of  all  believers.  '  If  Heaven  is  His  true 
abode,  it  is  also  theirs ;  and  this  as  the  natural 
goal  of  human  nature,  the  end  continuous  with 
the  beginnings  of  human  life  on  earth.  For  Christ, 
His  Ascension  was  the  assumption  of  His  own 
proper  life,  the  orderly  passing  into  its  full  exer- 
cise and  enjoyment ;  for  the  Christian,  it  is  the 
orderly  completion  of  his  life  recreated  in  Christ. 
It  is  not  simply  the  ideal  to  be  set  before  his 
natural  life  here,  and  to  be  realized  by  modifica- 
tion or  development  hereafter.  The  earthly  life  is 
renewed  by  being  incorporated  into  Christ,  through 
whose  Spirit  a  new  power  enters  into  it ;  he  is  a 
'  new  creature. '  But  the  new  creation  is  his  own 
proper  life,  to  live  below  it  is  to  degrade  Ids  nature. 
The  renewed  earthly  nature  is  already  begun  to  he 
taken  into  God  ;  like  Christ,  believers  are  ascend- 
ing even  here.  To  this  process  the  ascension  is 
but  the  natural  close.  As  such  it  is  at  once  the 
entering  into  the  heavenly  inheritance  of  blessing 
and  the  entering  upon  the  triumph  of  them  that 
endure. 

Again,  the  Ascension  of  Christ  assures  and  de- 
velons  the  desire  for  immortality.  It  has  greatly 
quickened  interest  in  the  hope  of  life  after  death, 
and  encouraged  the  conviction  tliat  it  will  be  justi- 
fied by  the  event.  Tliere  are  'natural  intimations 
of  immortality.'  There  is  a  practically  universal 
remonstrance  of  the  human  heart  against  tlie  gra^•e. 
The  highest  knowledge  of  this  world  has  always 
been  optimistic  of  reaching  a  world  of  solved 
problems  and  of  realized  ideals.  The  latest  gift 
of  science  to  mankind  is  the  gospel  of  hope  which 
is  contained  in  the  doctrine  of  evolution,  '  man  is 
not  man  as  yet,  but  in  completed  man  begins  anew, 
a  tendency  to  God'  (Ascent  through  Christ,  iii.  3). 
But  of  all  this  there  never  has  been  real  certainty. 
The  hope  is  but  a  longing  and  an  inference  at  the 
best.  Did  Christ  actually  ascend  ?  The  conviction 
that  He  did  has  for  centuries  been  rooted  in  Chris- 
tian minds,  and  has  reacted  on  the  general  hope. 
It  has  assured  them  that  the  spirit  in  man  is  more 
powerful  than  death ;  it  has  furnished  the  proof, 
as  it  is  the  illustration,  of  man's  final  destiny. 
That  conviction,  be  it  observed,  is  not  an  inference 
from  the  general  hope.  It  is  a  fruit  of  fellowshi]) 
with  Christ.  It  is  a  religious  experience  :  the  ex- 
perience, viz.,  of  men  who,  united  to  Christ,  share 
in  the  power  of  His  Spirit,  and  liy  that  power 
enter  upon  endless  life.  Further,  t'hri.st's  Ascen- 
sion offers  a  suggestion  of  important  possibilities 
for  the  bodily  nature.  There  is  to  bo  '  a  redemp- 
tion of  our  body'  (Ro  8=^);  tliere  is  'an  image  of 
the  heavenly'  (1  Co  15^'')  we  must  hear;  a  '  spiritual 
body'(v.«),  the  '  body  of  glory'  (I'li  3-'),  that  will 
be  raised;  'our  mortal  bodies' are  to  be  'quick- 
ened' (Ro  8").  The  future  life  is  not  to  he  one  of 
pure  sjiirit :  it  is  to  be  'clothed  uiion"  (2  Co  ,')-'). 
In  no  respect  did  Christ  asMimr  fiiii.lanirntal 
divergence  between  His  n.-ilun-  .uiil  Iiuhkui  luiiuro. 
The  Apostolic  thought  dwells  ,,„  Mi.  ,,ii,.|i,.-s  xMih 
His  brethren.  Later  theoUi-y  hiMimie  .■uidacions, 
and  affirmed  explicitly,  'Man  is  to  be  made  God.' 
Manhood  is  to  be  taken  up  into  the  Godhead. 
That  the  body  in  some  mysterious  manner  is  to 
participate  in  this  glorification  would  appear  to  be 
necessary,  however  difficult  the  conception.  The 
one  precedent  for  the  thought  is  Christ's,  whose 
body  was  not  dissolved  but  transfigured.  See 
BODV. 


ASCETICISM 


ASCETICISM 


Tl>c  .!». 


the 


'Life 


,v  :,■  l.v.  fiiliies?,  vvith  the  event  in 
__  s]..    Mill    tin-  studios  of  Fairhairn, 

rnv^piV  liir.  r  I'll  li'  Ml  'M  ;.;-  hiir-.,  the  following  are 
Jt,,,,;,  k',  !i  '      ;"-,3a7^U;  Bernard 

n   FtV  ;  :..!'!     1        ;    :   I  :..     There  may  be 

consul^    I         '      1     :         i    /  '        /    '■   vol.  i.;   Swete, 

Avi't^il.-'  '',■  I-  \\.-:.-ii.  ;/-■'.'■  ;■"'/',  I'h.  vi.,  Revelation 
of  the  Itism  Lord,  chs.  x.,  xi.  ;  art.  -Ascension'  in  Hasting' 
DB;  Paget,  Studies  in  the  Christian,  Character,  Sermons  xxi., 
xxii.;  Findlaj-.TAinas ^('01)6,119-138.         .     „    ,, 

A.  S.  Martin. 
ASCETICISM.— Asceticism  may  be  defined  as 
a  form  of  self  -  discipline  which  consists  in  tlie 
habitual  renunciation  of  the  things  of  the  flesh, 
with  a  view  to  the  cultivation  of  the  life  of  the 
spirit.  It  is  a  deliberate  attempt  to  eliminate 
and  uproot  the  sensuous,  to  banish  it  altogether 
from  the  sphere  of  consciousness.  It  is  not  content 
Avith  a  doctrine  of  mere  subordination.  It  does 
not  stop  short  Avith  teaching  men  to  govern  their 
wants,  to  subject  them  to  the  service  of  a  higher 
end  and  purpose.  It  bids  men  stifle  and  suppress 
them,  or  at  least  resist  them  to  the  utmost  of  their 
ability.  The  body  is  represented  as  the  enemy  of 
the  soul,  and  the  way  of  perfection  is  identified 
with  the  progressive  extirpation  of  the  natural 
instincts  and  inclinations  by  means  of  fasting, 
celibacy,  voluntary  poverty,  and  similar  exercises 
of  devotion.  Hence  asceticism  may  be  described 
as  the  gospel  of  negation,— negation  of  the  world 
and  negation  of  the  flesh,  each  of  wliich  is  apt  to 
be  confounded  with  negation  of  the  devil. 

It  is  the  purpose  of  the  present  article  to  inquire 
Avhat  traces,  if  any,  of  such  asceticism  are  to  be 
found  in  the  practice  and  preaching  of  Jesus.  As 
a  i)reliminary,  liowever,  it  will  be  necessary 
notice  briefly  the  main  forms  of  asceticism  which 
were  prevalent  in  Palestine  in  the  time  of  Christ. 

The  Jewish  ascetics  of  the  1st  cent,  may  be 
divided  roughly  into  three  classes.  (1)  Hr.st, 
there  were  the  Essenes,  who  lived  togetlier  in 
monastic  colonies,  shared  all  things  in  common, 
and  practised  voluntary  poverty.  I'lnlo  says  that 
they  were  inditferent  to  mniiry,  i-l.a~ure,  and 
worldly  position.  Their  food  was  limu.  a  m  rijian- 
tity  and  carefully  regulated  in  n-spcct  ..f  c|uahty. 
They  ate  no  animal  flesh,  drank  no  wme,  and 
abstained  from  the  use  of  oil  for  purposes  of  anoint- 
in"  The  stricter  members  of  the  brotberliood 
eschewed  marriage.  The  idea  of  this  rigorous 
asceticism  seems  to  have  been  that  the  objects  of 
sense,  as  such,  were  unholy,  and  that  man's  natural 
cravings  could  not  be  Ratified  without  sin.  Hence 
the  Essenes  may  be  said  to  have  prepared  the  way 
for  the  Gnostic  doctrine  of  dualism  and  of  matter 
as  the  seat  and  abode  of  evil.  In  this  place,  liow- 
ever, the  principles  of  the  Essenes  need  not  further 
be  discussed.  They  are  not  referred  to  in  tlie 
Gospels,  and  the  suggestion  that  John  tlie  liajitist 
or  Jesus  Himself  came  under  their  inlhu-mc  (aiiiiot 
for  a  moment  be  entertained.  (2)  Scrondly,  tlu'ru 
was  a  class  of  hermit  ascetics  who  tied  away  from 
the  allurements  and  temptations  uf  snriety,  and 
-ave  themselves  up  to  a  life  of  rigid  sell-diseiphne 
in  the  solitude  of  the  wilderness.  M  o  meet  witli 
an  example  of  this  class  in  the  Banus,  mentioned 
by  Josephus,  who  lived  in  the  desert,  clothed  him- 
self with  the  leaves  of  trees,  ate  notliinj'  save  tlie 
natural  produce  of  the  soil,  and  bathed  day  and 
night  in  cold  water  for  purity's  sake  (Jos.  Vit.  2). 
A  hermit  of  a  somewhat  dift'erent  type  was  John 
the  Baptist.  He,  too,  dwelt  in  the  desert,  wore 
for  dress  a  rough  garment  of  camel's  hair  with  a 
leathern  girdle,  and  subsisted  on  carob-beans  (?)  and 
wild  honey.  We  learn  from  a  saying  of  Jesus  that 
his  ri"orous  mode  of  life  astonished  the  people, 
who  "ave  out  that  he  was  possessed  by  a  demon 
(Mt  11'^  LU  7^).    But  the  asceticism  of  John  seems 


to  have  been  an  incident  of  his  environment  and 
vocation,  and  was  not  regarded  as  an  end  in  itself. 
He  made  no  attempt  to  convert  his  hearers  into 
ascetics.  While  it  is  true  that  his  immediate 
disciples  were  addicted  to  fasting,  presumably 
with  his  sanction  (iMt  9",  Mk  2'8,  Lk  5i^),  yet  in 
the  fragments  of  his  popular  sermons  which  have 
been  preserved  there  is  no  trace  of  any  exhorta- 
tion to  ascetic  exercises.  The  moral  preparation 
for  the  Kingdom,  by  repentance  and  works  of 
righteousness,  was  the  substance  of  his  teaching 
(Mt  3'-l^  Lk  3'-").  (3)  Lastly,  there  were  many 
pious  Jews  who  cultivated  asceticism  of  a  milder 
and  less  striking  kind,  who,  like  Anna,  'served 
Ciod  witli  fasting  and  prayers  night  and  day '  (Lk 
2=^).  Tlie  more  strict  among  the  Pharisees  paid 
jiarticular  attention  to  abstinence  from  food,  and. 


addition  to  ordinary  fasts,  were  accustomed  to 
observe  all  Mondays  and  Thursdays  in  tlie  year  as 
days  of  fasting  (Lk  18'^).  The  asceticism  of  the 
Pliarisees,  however,  was  a  formal  performance 
which  resulted  naturally  from  their  legal  and  cere- 
monial conception  of  religion.  It  expressed  itself 
chiefly  in  fasting,  and  did  not  include  either  volun- 
tary poverty  or  abstinence  from  marriage. 

Such  being  the  principal  types  of  contemporary 
asceticism,  it  remains  to  inquire.  What  attitude  did 
Jesus  Himself  take  up  in  relation  to  this  asceticism  ? 
How  far  did  He  identify  the  life  of  ri.-liteousness 
with  that  'vita  religiosa'  which  lias  found  its 
fullest  expression  in  Monasticism  V  To  answer 
this  question  we  must  consider  (1)  the  practice  ot 
Jesus,  and  (2)  the  teaching  of  Jesus  so  far  as  it 
bears  upon  the  subject. 

1.  The  practice  of  J&sit^.- Now  it  cannot  be 
denied  that  from  very  early  times  there  were 
circles  of  Christian  ascetics  avIio  pointed  to  Jesus 
as  the  Founder  and  Example  of  the  ascetic  life 
(Clem.  Alex.  Strom,  iii.  6).  They  emphasized  His 
forty  days'  fast,  His  abstinence  from  marriage. 
His  voluntary  poverty,  and  leaped  to  the  conclu- 
sion that  the  highest  life,  as  exemplified  by  Jesus, 
was  the  life  of  asceticism  or  world-denial.  Com- 
plete renunciation  of  the  things  of  the  present  was 
'  the  way  of  perfection  according  to  the  Saviour. 
Even  now  large  numbers  of  people  are  of  this  way 
of  tliinkin"  ;  but  a  closer  and  more  detailed  exami- 
nation of  Jesus'  mode  of  life  seems  scarcely  to  bear 
out  such  a  conclusion.  Offering,  as  He  did,  a  most 
wonderful  example  of  self-forgetfulness  and  self- 
denial  in  the  service  of  others,  Jesus  exlubited 
nothin"  of  that  asceticism  which  characterized  the 
Essenes,  or  John  the  Baptist,  or  Christian  saints 
like  St.  Bernard,  St.  John  of  the  Cross,  and  even 
St  Francis,  who  of  all  ascetics  approached  most 
nearly  to  the  spirit  of  his  Master.  He  showed  no 
disposition  to  flee  from  the  world,  or  liold  aloof 
from  it ;  He  did  not  eschew  the  amenities  of  social 
life.  He  accepted  the  hospitality  of  rich  men  and 
poor.  He  was  present  at  meals,  He  contributed  to 
the  gaiety  of  a  marriage-feast,  He  permitted  very 
precious  ointment  to  be  poured  upon  His  feet.  He 
liad  a  love  for  children,  welcomed  the  society  ot 
women,  and  clearly  enjoyed  the  domestic  life 
of  the  home  in  Bethany.  There  is  no  trace  m 
the  records  that  Jesus  frowned  on  innocent  plea- 
sures. His  life,  entirely  devoted  to  His  mission, 
was  undoubtedly  hard  and  laborious  in  the  highest 
deo-ree ;  but  the  motive  of  His  renunciation- e.jr. 
of°marriageor  property— seems  to  have  been,  not 
the  desire  to  avoid  these  things  as  in  themselves 
incompatible  with  siiiritual  perfection,  but  the 
desire  to  leave  Himself  perfect  freedom  in  the  pro- 
secution of  His  work.  He  did  not,  so  far  as  we 
know,  impose  upon  Himself  unnecessary  austeri- 
ties, or  go  out  of  His  way  to  seek  suflering.  He 
accepted  pleasures  and  pains  as  they  came,  neither 
avoidin"   the   one   nor   courting    the    other,    but. 


ASCETICISM 


ASCETICISM 


with  a  sublime  serenity,  subordinating  both  to  His 
main  end  and  purpose.  The  so-called  '  forty  days' 
fast'  need  not  cause  us  to  modify  our  view.  This 
fast  is  not  mentioned  in  the  oldest  authority  (Mk 
1'^) ;  and  at  any  rate  it  can  scarcely  have  been  a 
ceremonial  observance  of  fasting,  but  was  rather 
a  necessity  imposed  on  Jesus  by  His  situation 
in  the  wilderness.  The  key  to  its  meaning  may 
perhaps  be  found  in  St.  Luke's  expression,  'in 
those  days  he  did  eat  nothing'  (Lk  4^),  with  which 
we  may  compare  Christ's  own  description  of  the 
life  of  John  the  Baptist,  '  John  came  neither  eat- 
ing nor  drinking'  (Mt  11").  The  phrase  as  ap- 
plied to  Jesus  may,  as  in  the  case  of  John,  mean 
merely  that  He  ate  no  ordinary  food,  but  sup- 
ported life  on  such  means  of  subsistence  as  the 
wilderness  aflbrded.  But  even  if  St.  Matthew's 
vrja-Teijas  (Mt  4^)  be  taken  literally,  yet,  in  the  face 
of  Christ's  teaching  on  the  subject  (to  be  mentioned 
below),  we  cannot  believe  that  He  attributed  any 
great  importance  to  this  abstinence  from  food. 
He  was  supremely  indifferent  to  the  traditional 
practices  of  asceticism ;  in  the  sphere  of  self- 
renunciation  in  which  He  moved,  no  one-sided  prin- 
ciple of  world-negation  could  fintl  a  place.  Hence, 
while  Jesus  is  presented  to  us  ))y  tlie  Evangelists 
as  the  living  tj'pe  and  embodiment  of  absolute  self- 
denial, — self-sacrifice,  as  it  were,  incarnate, — yet 
the  marks  of  the  ascetic  are  not  found  in  Him.  And 
it  is  interesting  to  note  that  His  unascetio  deport- 
ment and  manner  of  life  attracted  the  observation 
of  His  contemporaries.  'Jolin  came  neither  eat- 
ing nor  drinking,  and  they  say.  He  hath  a  devil. 
The  Son  of  man  came  eating  and  drinking,  and 
they  say.  Behold  a  man  gluttonous  and  a  wine- 
bibber,  a  friend  of  publicans  and  sinners'  (Mt 
jjis.  19^  Lk7^^''^).  There  can  be  no  question  that 
the  Jews  were  right  when  they  pointed  out  tlie 
absence  of  asceticism  from  the  practice  of  Jesus. 
We  have  but  to  contrast  tlie  life  of  the  Son  of 
Man,  who  '  came  eating  and  drinking,'  with  that 
of  such  an  one  as  St.  John  of  the  Cross,  and  the 
fact  will  immediately  become  apparent. 

2.  The  teaching  of  Jesus. — Passing  now  to  the 
consideration  of  the  teacliing  of  Jesus,  we  remark 
at  the  outset  that,  from  first  to  last,  it  is  instinct 
with  the  spirit  of  self-denial.  '  If  any  man  will 
come  after  me,  let  him  deny  himself,'  is  the  refrain 
which  continually  recurs.  The  principle  laid  down 
by  Jesus  is  that  the  doing  of  the  will  of  God  and 
the  promotion  of  His  kingdom  is  the  absolute 
duty  of  man,  to  which  all  private  and  particular 
aims  must  necessarily  give  place.  '  Seek  ye  first 
the  kingdom  of  God '  (Mt  6^,  Lk  12^1)  is  the  cate- 
gorical imperative.  The  Kingdom  of  God  is  the 
highest  good,  and  as  such  establishes  a  claim  on 
man's  exclusive  devotion.  Hence  all  desires  and 
strivings  which  have  not  righteousness  as  their 
ultimate  goal  must  be  ruthlessly  suppressed;  all 
lesser  goods  and  blessings  which  hinder  and  ob- 
struct a  man  in  the  pursuit  of  the  summum  bonum 
must  unhesitatingly  be  sacrificed.  Thus  a  man 
must  sell  all  that  lie  has  in  order  to  purchase  tlie 
held  witli  tlie  treasure,  or  the  pearl  of  great  price 
(Mt  13"-*).  H  necessity  arise,  he  must  surrender 
all  Jiis  possessions  to  come  and  follow  Jesus  (Mt 
19'-',  Mk  10=') ;  he  must  even  renounce  the  closest 
ties  of  earthly  relationship,— father  and  mother, 
children  and  wife  (Mt  10",  Lk  14==),  the  last  im- 
perative dutiesof  affection  (Lk  9™-  ^''),  the  courtesies 
of  farewell  (Lk  9"-  '=)  ;  nay,  the  most  indispensable 
goods,  the  hand,  the  foot,  the  eye,  must  be  aban- 
doned if  they  cause  offence  (Mt  5='-  ^,  Mk  9«-J7) . 
and,  at  the  call  of  God,  tlie  very  life  itself  must 
be  laid  down  (Mt  16=-"-,  Mk  S^"-,  Lk  9=3'-).  '  Who- 
soever he  be  of  you  that  forsaketh  not  all  that  he 
hath,  he  cannot  be  my  disciple '  (Lk  H^).  No 
teaching  could  be  clearer  or  more  forcible  than 
VOL.  I.— 9 


this.  With  the  greatest  possible  plainness  Jesus 
declares  that  every  earthly  blessing  must  be  made 
subordinate  to  the  service  of  God  and  contributory 
thereto.  All  lesser  goods  which  come  to  be  sought 
for  their  own  sake,  wliether  in  preference  to,  or 
even  independently  of,  the  highest  good,  must  be 
instantly  sacrificed.  In  other  words,  wlien  the 
individual  realizes  that  the  gratification  of  any 
desire  will  impede  or  distract  him  in  the  per- 
formance of  his  duties  as  a  member  of  the  King- 
dom, he  is  bound  to  forego  such  gratification  if  he 
would  still  be  in  trutli  a  disciple  of  Christ. 

It  is  important  to  notice  that,  in  all  Jesus'  pre- 
cepts about  the  sacrifice  of  earthly  goods,  there  is 
a  condition,  explicit  or  implied.  The  condition  in 
any  ^iven  case  is,  that  the  particular  good  to  be 
sacrificed  shall  have  been  ascertained  to  be  an 
obstacle  to  the  attainment  of  righteousness  on  the 
part  of  its  possessor — 'if  it  cause  thee  to  stumble.' 
Thus  the  necessity  of  every  sacrifice  is  determined 
by  the  special  circumstances  of  the  particular  case. 
The  rich  young  man  is  bidden  to  part  with  all  his 
possessions  and  follow  Jesus  ;  Zacchseus  gives  half, 
and  is  told  '  this  day  is  salvation  come  to  this 
hou.se'  (Lk  19');  Martha  and  Mary  are  not  asked 
to  leave  their  home.  To  one  man  Jesus  denies 
permission  to  bid  farewell  to  his  relatives  (Lk  9'^=) ; 
to  anotlier  He  says,  '  Return  to  tliine  own  house' 
(LkS^S).  A  sacrifice  wlii.h  is  impmitive  for  one 
man  need  not  necessarily  !"■  tli'-  iluty  of  another, 
but  the  general  rule  is  laid  ilowii  lliat  all  must 
be  prepared,  if  occasion  arise,  to  .surrender  their 
dearest  and  most  cherished  blessings  for  the  sake 
of  the  Kingdom  of  God. 

Now  the  note  of  this  doctrine  is  self-denial,  not 
asceticism.  Jesus  nowhere  teaches  that  earthly 
goods  are  of  the  devil,  or  that  the  gratification  of 
the  natural  cravings  is  fraught  with  sin.  He  does 
not  recommend  men  to  treat  their  bodies  with  con- 
tempt. He  does  not  suggest  that  flight  from  the 
world  and  disengagement  from  physical  conditions 
is  sanctification.  He  does  not  say  that  those  who, 
for  duty's  sake,  renounce  the  world,  are  on  a  higher 
spiritual  level  than  tliose  who  do  their  duty  in  the 
world.  He  does  not  hint  that  the  only  way  of 
avoiding  sin  lies  in  an  austere  renunciation  of  all 
tliose  things  from  which  an  occasion  of  sin  might 
arise.  He  nowhere  implies  that  the  lower  goods 
are  of  no  value  in  themselves,  or  that  they  ought 
under  all  circumstances  to  be  foregone.  The  doc- 
trine of  Jesus  is  a  doctrine  not  of  annihilation,  but 
of  subordination.  He  admits,  indeed,  that  special 
circumstances  may  make  it  incumbent  on  an  indi- 
vidual to  abstain  from  certain  things  which  others, 
otherwise  situated,  may  lawfully  enjoy ;  but  He 
does  not  say  that  earthly  goods,  as  such,  are  irre- 
concilable with  righteousness.  His  teaching  on 
the  subject  may  be  summarized  in  the  word  sub- 
ordination. The  main  point  is  that  earthly  goods 
are  not  to  be  retained  or  enjoyed  for  their  own 
sake,  but  must  be  made  subordinate  and  sub- 
servient to  a  higher  end,  and  must  ultimately  be 
directed  towards  the  promotion  of  the  righteousness 
of  the  Kingdom  of  God. 

Further  to  illustrate  this  point  of  view,  we  may 
briefly  allude  to  Jesus'  teaching  on  three  pro- 
minent characteristics  of  the  ascetic  life— volun- 
tary poverty,  celibacy,  and  bodily  discipline  as 
exercised  in  the  practice  of  fasting. 

(1)  No  one  could  have  been  more  alive  than 
Jesus  was  to  the  dangers  of  wealth,  and  to  the 
peculiar  psychological  difficulties  which  hinder  the 
rich  from  entering  the  Kingdom.  His  warnings 
on  the  subject  are  more  than  usually  vigorous. 
Wealth  is  represented  as  an  idol ;  care  about 
material  things  as  a  kind  of  heathenism.  He  even 
goes  so  far  as  to  say  that,  humanly  speaking,  it  is 
impossible  for  a  rich  man  to  be  saved  (Mt  ^J-",  Mk 


130 


ASCETICISM 


ASCETICISM 


10",  Lk  18=').  '  Woe  unto  you  that  are  rich  ! '  He 
cries  again,  'for  ye  have  received  your  consolation' 
(Lk  &").  He  bids  men  not  lay  up  treasures  upon 
earth  (Mt  6'"),  but  rather  sell  what  tliey  have  and 
give  alms  (Lk  12^).  He  says,  'Ye  cannot  serve 
God  and  mammon '  (Mt  6=^).  Jesus  knew  that  men 
tend  to  become  absorbed  in  their  property,  to  give 
their  heart  to  it,  to  become  its  slaves  instead  of  its 
masters  ;  and  the  idea  of  such  bondage  filled  Him 
with  horror.  Hence  to  those  who  were  in  danger 
of  falling  beneath  the  tyranny  of  money  and 
material  things  He  had  but  one  word  to  say  :  '  Go 
and  sell  that  thou  hast,  and  give  to  the  poor  .  .  . 
and  come,  follow  me'  {Mt  \9-\  Mk  W-\  Lk  18-). 
This,  however,  is  not  a  precept  of  universal 
validity ;  it  is  not,  as  some  of  the  Fathers  have 
WTongiy  conceived  {e.g.  Hieron.  c.  Vigilant.  14 ; 
Bieda,  Exp.  in,  Marci  Ev.  iii.  10),  a  consiliiim  cvan- 
gelicum  of  poverty.  It  was  addressed  primarily  to 
a  particular  person,  and  it  can  properly  be  applied 
only  to  those  who  are  iu  danger  of  forgetting  that 
'  a  man's  life  consisteth  not  in  the  abundance  of  the 
things  which  he  possesseth'(Lk  12'^).  The  parables 
of  the  Unjust  Steward  (Lk  le'-'^),  of  the  Talents 
(Mt  25"-^),  or  the  Pounds  (Lk  W"-""),  prove  that 
Jesus  was  far  from  regarding  wealth  as  evil  in 
itself,  or  requiring  that  people  in  general  should 
renounce  its  use.  On  the  contraiy,  He  insisted 
that  riches  are  a  deposit  from  God,  which  can  and 
ought  to  be  employed  in  His  service  ;  and  He  even 
declared  that  hdelity  in  such  emploj'ment  would 
be  the  standard  for  testing  a  man's  capacity  for 
higher  tasks.  '  If  ye  have  not  been  faithful  in 
the  unrighteous  mammon,  who  will  commit  to 
your  trust  the  true  riches?'  (Lk  16").  There  is 
nothing  ascetic  in  such  teachinrj.  What  Jesus 
reprobates  is  not  wealth,  but  the  abuse  of  it ; 
what  He  recommends  is  not  alienation  of  wealth, 
but  subordination  of  it.  He  recognizes,  indeed, 
that  there  may  be  special  cases  where  the  reten- 
tion of  wealth  is  incompatible  with  the  service  of 
God,  but  in  general  He  bids  men  keep  and  use  it 
in  accordance  with  the  purposes  of  Him  who  has 
bestowed  it  on  them.  Neither  wealth  nor  poverty 
is  in  itself  meritorious  :  only  the  disposition  which 
makes  either  minister  to  the  coming  of  tiie 
Kingdom. 

(2)  So,  too,  in  respect  of  marriage.  Jesus  cer- 
tainly teaches  that  a  spiritual  vocation  is  some- 
times inconsistent  ^vith  the  married  state.  '  There 
be  eunuchs  Avhich  have  made  tliemsehes  eunuchs 
for  the  kingdom  of  heaven's  sake.  He  that  is 
able  to  receive  it,  let  him  receive  it'(Mt  19'=). 
'This,'  says  Jerome,  'is  the  voice  of  the  Lord 
exhorting  and  urging  on  His  soldiers  to  the  reward 
of  chastity.'  But  to  write  thus  is  an  exaggera- 
tion, if  not  a  perversion  of  the  truth.  Nothing  is 
more  noticeable  than  the  extremely  guarded  form 
of  Christ's  utterance  here,  in  striking  contrast 
with  His  vei-y  explicit  injunctions  concerning  re- 
nunciation in  other  matters.  Jesus  weighs  His 
words  with  the  greatest  care.  He  makes  no 
general  exhortation  to  celibacy.  He  merely  points 
out  that  some  people,  in  the  enthusiasm  of  their 
heavenly  calling,  have  suppre.ssed  the  very  instincts 
of  nature,  so  that  they  have,  as  it  were,  undergone 
an  operation  of  ethical  self-emasculation,  being 
dead  to  sexual  desire ;  and  He  recommends  those 
who  have  received  the  gift  of  abstinence,  in  this 
sense,  not  to  neglect  it.  Just  as  elsewhere,  in  His 
pregnant,  paradoxical  way,  Jesus  bids  men  '  hate ' 
lather,  and  mother,  and  wife,  and  children  (Lk 
14-^),  if  their  claims  tend  to  supersede  the  claims 
of  God  (Mt  lO^')  :  so  here  He  bids  those  who  are 
convinced  that  God's  claims  demand  the  whole 
of  their  time  and  energy,  to  refrain  altogether 
from  entering  the  marriage  state.  But  this  is 
no  ascetic  doctrine  of  celibacy.     The  Master  who 


tau"ht  that  matrimony  was  a  dii-inely  ordered 
condition,  and  emphasized  in  the  strongest  terras 
the  sanctity  of  the  conjugal  relation  (>It  5==  195-', 
Mk  10-1=,  Lk  16'8),  who  practised  (Lk  2")  and  in- 
culcated the  duty  of  filial  obedience  and  love  to- 
wards parents  (^ft  15^"^,  Mk  T'"-"),  who  habitually 
used  the  symbolism  of  the  family  to  express  the 
profoundest  and  holiest  truths  of  religion,  certainly 
did  not  mean  to  teach  that  family  life,  as  such, 
was  irreconcilable  with  righteousness.  He  uttered 
no  word  in  disparagement  of  it ;  He  never  implied 
that  the  married  attain  a  lower  grade  of  jjerfec- 
tion  than  the  continent.  On  the  contrary,  it  is 
clear  that  Jesus  regarded  marriage  as  the  right 
and  natural  course  for  the  majority  of  people,  and 
He  even  chose  a  married  man  as  the  chief  of  His 
apostles.  In  short,  while  recognizing  that  through 
special  circumstances  the  individual  might  be 
called  upon  to  renounce  the  gratifications  of  mar- 
riage, Jesus  appears  to  indicate  that  such  renuncia- 
tion is  an  exceptional  duty  imposed  on  the  few, 
not  a  general  rule  for  the  many.  Marriage  in  itself 
is  not  to  be  avoided  as  a  thing  debasing  ;  it  debases 
only  when  men  refuse  to  subordinate  it  to  the 
claims  of  the  Kingdom. 

(3)  So,  once  more,  towards  the  traditional  dis- 
cipline of  asceticism  Jesus  took  uj)  an  attitude  of 
inditt'erence.  In  His  view,  the  value  of  such  ex- 
ercises depends  solely  upon  the  spirit  in  which 
they  are  undertaken.  As  forms  through  which 
devotion  seeks  to  find  expression,  He  does  not 
condemn  them  ;  but,  on  the  other  hand,  He  does 
not  suggest  that  they  are  the  necessary  or  inevit- 
able concomitants  of  the  holy  life.  This  will 
appear  from  His  teaching  on  fasting — one  of  the 
most  distinguishing  characteristics  of  the  Jewish 
piety  of  His  time.  Jesus  points  out  that  true 
tasting  is  not  a  parade  of  piety  before  the  eyes  of 
men,  but  an  outward  expression  of  a  personal 
relation  of  the  individual  soul  to  the  '  Father 
which  seeth  in  secret' (Mt  6'*").  Hence  fasting 
is  not  a  matter  of  compulsion  or  prescription  or 
external  ordinance  ;  it  has  value  solely  as  the 
appropriate  manifestation  of  a  state  of  mind. 
Thus  Jesus  refuses  to  impose  fasts  on  His  disciples 
in  their  days  of  gladness,  but  He  foresees  that '  the 
days  will  come  when  the  bridegioom  shall  be 
taken  from  them,'  and  then  the  sorrow  of  their 
heart  will  seek  an  outlet  through  the  forms  of 
sorrow  (Mt  9'^  Mk  2'»='',  Lk  5^*- ^).  In  iustitica- 
tion  of  His  refusal  to  lay  down  fixed  rules  upon 
the  subject,  Jesus  goes  on  to  say  that,  just  as  no 
wise  man  would  sew  a  new  patch  on  to  an  old 
garment,  or  pour  new  wine  into  old  bottles,  so  it 
would  be  foolish  to  graft  the  new-found  liberty  of 
the  gospel  on  to  the  mass  of  old  observances,  and 
still  more  foolish  to  attempt  to  force  the  new 
system  as  a  whole  within  the  forms  of  the  old. 
The  new  piety  must  develop  new  forms  of  its  own 
(Mt  9"-  ",  Mk  2='- =2,  Lk  5*"**).  From  all  this  we 
gather  that  Jesus  refuses  to  bind  religion  to  ex- 
ternal acts  of  asceticism,  or  to  declare  such  acts  to 
be  of  obligation.  Such  performances  as  fasting, 
flagellation,  or  restriction  of  sleep  may  certainly 
have  a  conditional  worth  as  the  sincere  expression 
of  a  sad  and  contrite  spirit,  but  they  are  not  of 
the  essence  of  devotion.  Jesus  emphasizes  the 
state  of  the  heart,  the  self-denying  disposition, 
the  bent  of  the  soul  towards  God  ;  with  anything 
besides  this  He  is  not  concerned. 

Hence  in  answer  to  the  question.  Was  Jesus  an 
ascetic  ?  we  are  bound  to  reply  in  the  negative. 
Neither  in  His  practice  nor  in  His  teaching  did  He 
adopt  the  tone  of  asceticism.  He  called  indeed 
for  self-denial,  self-sacrifice,  self-forgetfulness.  He 
demanded  that  all  lower  goods  should  be  subordi- 
nated to  the  highest  good,  that  all  human  strivings 
should  be  directed  ultimately  towards  righteous- 


ASHER 


ASTROLOGY 


131 


ness.  But  He  does  not  condemn  the  lower  goods 
or  attempt  to  tear  out  the  human  instincts  and 
cravings.  Nor  does  He  make  fellowship  with  God 
depend  on  any  kind  of  outward  ascetical  ol)serv- 
ances.  Indeed,  as  Harnack  writes,  '  Asceticism 
has  no  place  in  the  gospel  at  all ;  what  it  asks  is 
that  we  should  struggle  against  mammon,  against 
care,  against  seltisliness ;  what  it  demands  and 
disengages  is  love  ;  the  love  that  serves  and  is  self- 
sacrificing.  This  struggle  and  this  love  are  the 
kind  of  asceticism  which  the  gospel  means,  and 
whoever  encumbers  .Jesus'  message  with  any  other 
kind  fails  to  understand  it.  He  fails  to  understand 
its  grandeur  and  importance ;  for  there  is  some- 
thing still  more  important  than  "giving  one's 
body  to  be  burned,  and  bestowing  all  one's  goods 
to  feed  the  poor,"  namely,  self-denial  and  love ' 
(Harnack,  What  is  Christianity?]).  88).  See  also 
art.  Self-denial  and  the  Literature  cited  at  end 
of  that  article.  F.  Homes  Dudden. 

ASHER  (LXX  and  NT  'Aa-fip,  Jos.  'Aatipos)  is  the 
transliteration  of  the  Heb.  "^ptt  = '  fortunate.'  In 
Gn  30^'  the  origin  of  the  name  Asher  is  connected 
by  J  with  this  adjective,  but  perhaps  its  source 
should  be  found  rather  in  the  name  of  some 
Semitic  divinity  (cf.  the  goddess  Ashera  and  per- 
haps also  the  Assyrian  god  Ashur).  In  Rev  7" 
Asher  appears  in  the  list  of  the  twelve  tribes  of 
Israel  (cf.  Nu  1"-  ■««■  2^<-  7"""  lO^^  IS'^  [P],  Dt 
27"  [D]).  The  patronymic  ancestor  of  the  tribe  is 
presented  in  Gn  SO^^  ( J)  and  35=«  (P)  as  the  eighth 
son  of  Jacob :  born  (like  Gad)  of  Zilpah,  Leah's 
slave-girl.  Asher  is  mentioned  in  the  '  Blessings'  of 
Jacob  (Gn  49=»)  and  of  Moses  (Dt  33=').  It  is  put 
in  possession  of  a  territory  in  the  land  of  Canaan 
(Joa  192-'-3i  [P],  cf.  216- *"•  [P]),  but  does  not  succeed 
in  making  itself  thoroughly  master  of  it  ( Jg  P"- ) ; 
the  result  of  which  is  that  its  territory  is  some- 
times confused  with  that  of  Manasseh  (Jos  17" 
[J]),  and  that  it  holds  a  precarious  situation  in 
the  midst  of  the  Canaanites  (contrast  Jg  l^'^'- 
with  v.^'-).  The  district  assigned  to  Asher  corre- 
sponds to  what  was  afterwards  western  Galilee,  a 
very  fertile  country,  but  apparently  never  subdued 
completely  by  Israel ;  it  is  by  a  fiction  that  the 
possession  of  cities  like  Acco,  Achzib,  Tyre,  and 
Sidon  is  attributed  to  it.  Asher  is  named  in  the 
Song  of  Deborah  (Jg  5")  as  devoted  to  navigation  ; 
it  fibres  also  in  the  story  of  Gideon  (Jg  &^  7^). 
But  it  quickly  disappears  from  the  page  of  history, 
where  after  all  it  had  played  a  very  small  part.  ■ 
It  is  still  mentioned  incidentally  in  1  K  4'"  under 
Solomon,  and  in  2  Ch  30"  under  Hezekiah,  but 
there  is  no  trace  of  it  in  the  Books  of  Ezra  and 
Nehemiah.  The  genealogical  tables  will  be  found 
in  Gn  46"  (P),  Nu  26«-"  (P),  and  1  Ch  7™-^". 

According  to  Lk  2^^  the  prophetess  Anna,  the 
daughter  of  Phanuel,  was  of  the  tribe  of  Asher. 
The  source  of  this  genealogical  statement  is  un- 
known. Its  correctness  has  been  suspected  in  view 
of  similar  claims  made  for  some  Jews  elsewhere  to 
illustrious  origin  (descent  from  Aaron,  David,  etc.). 
It  may,  however,  be  remarked,  that  there  is  a 
cardinal  difl'erence  between  these  and  the  present 
instance  :  there  was  nothing  particularly  glorious 
LUCIEN  Gautier. 


in  descent  from  Asher. 


-Used  twice  in  the  Gospels,  referring 
to  an  ancient  and  widespread  Eastern  mourning 
custom.  The  mourner,  or  the  penitent,  would 
throw  dust,  or  dust  mixed  with  ashes  {aTod6s),  into 
the  air,  as  an  expression  of  intense  humiliation, 
due  to  penitence  for  sin,  or  grief  because  of  afflic- 
tion (Mt  IP';  for  this  idea  in  the  OT  cf.  Mic  l'". 
Job  42^).  Such  symbolic  use  of  dust  and  ashes  was 
not  unnatural,  since  grief  seems  to  call  for  a  pro- 
stration of  the  body.     These,  being  beneath  the 


feet,  suggest  humiliation,  and  when  thrown  into 
the  air  they  were  allowed  to  fall  upon  the  person 
of  the  mourner,  that  he  might  carry  the  evidences 
of  his  grief  with  him.  Sometimes  ashes  is  asso- 
ciated with  adKKos,  sackelotli ;  the  penitent  or 
mourner  sitting  upon  the  ash-heap,  his  face  be- 
grimed with  the  dust.  To  this  custom  Christ 
referred  when  He  said  of  Tyre  and  Sidon,  '  They 
would  have  repented  long  ago,  sitting  in  sackcloth 
and  ashes '  (Lk  10'^  ;  cf.  use  of  im  in  Job  2*,  Jon  3*). 
E.  B.  Pollard. 
ASS.— See  Animals,  p.  63". 

ASTONISHMENT,  ASTONISHED.-These  terms 
occur  with  some  frequency  in  EV  of  OT,  but  in 
NT  only  in  the  historical  books  (except  John),  and 
in  the  RV  only  in  the  Synoptic  Gospels  (except 
Ac  3'-).  They  are  always  used  in  NT  as  an  ex- 
pression of  one  of  the  emotions  aroused  by  super- 
natural manifestations.  The  noun  occurs  once 
only  in  eitlier  version  (but  in  different  passages  : 
AV  Mk  5« ;  RV  Mk  le^) :  the  verb  more  fre- 
quently. In  AV  the  term  translates  sometimes 
iKir\-/i<rtToiJ.ai.  (Mt  V^  U^  22^3,  Mk  6''  7"  lO^"  ll", 
Lk  4^'-,  Ac  13'2)  ;  sometimes  iiiara/iai  or  iKarairis 
(Mk  5^',  Lk  2«  8*  24-i=,  Ac  10«  12«) ;  and 
sometimes  BanBloixai  or  ddfi^os  (Mk  10=^  Lk  5", 
Ac  9*).  In  RV  it  is  reserved  for  iKirXycraofiai  (ex- 
cept Mk  16*,  where  '  astonishment '  represents 
iKffTaais),  of  which  it  is  the  uniform  rendering.  In 
its  etymological  implication  it  very  fairly  repre- 
sents iKTr\i](j(Toixai,  which  is  literally  '  to  be  struck 
out  (of  the  senses)  by  a  blow,'  and  hence,  to  be 
'stunned,'  'shocked,  'astonished.'  For  its  re- 
lation to  words  implying  '  fear,'  see  Schmidt, 
Synonymik  d.  gr.  Sprac/ie,  No.  139.  For  its  place 
among  the  terms  descriptive  of  the  efl'ect  of  our 
Lord's  ministry  on  its  witnesses,  see  art.  AMAZE- 
MENT. Benjamin  B.  Warfield. 

ASTROLOGT  was  an  important  element  of  all 
ancient  astronomy.  The  scientific  observation  of 
the  positions  and  movements  of  the  heavenly 
bodies  was  closely  associated  with  the  belief  in 
their  Divine  character,  and  their  influence  upon 
the  destinies  of  men,  and  formed  the  basis  of  cal- 
culations and  predictions  of  future  events.  Baby- 
lonia was  the  earliest  home  of  this  study,  which 
continued  to  be  prosecuted  in  that  part  of  the 
world  \vith  special  diligence,  so  that  in  later  times 
the  word  '  Chaldtean '  was  equivalent  to  '  Eastern 
astrologer.'  It  is  to  this  class  that  we  must  refer 
the  Magi  or  Wise  Men  from  the  East,  who  are  men- 
tioned in  Mt  2'"^-  They  had  seen  in  their  own  home 
the  rising  (for  so  perhaps  we  should  understand 
the  words  ^i'  tj  aparoKij,  rendered  'in  the  east,'  in 
V.'-)  of  a  star  or  constellation,  which  they  connected 
with  the  expectation,  already  dill'used  in  the  East, 
of  the  birth  of  a  great  ruler  among  the  Jews. 
Travelling  to  Palestine,  they  ascertained  at  Jeru- 
salem that  the  Messiah  was  expected  to  be  born  in 
Bethlehem,  and  directing  their  steps  thither  they 
saw  the  '  star '  in  front  of  them  all  the  way,  till 
they  came  to  the  house  where  the  infant  Jesus 
was  found.  (This  appears  to  be  the  only  sense 
in  which  the  popular  and  picturesque  language  of 
v."  can  be  understood). 

The  first  two  chapters  of  the  First  Gospel  are 
recognized  as  being  taken  from  another  source 
than  the  rest  of  the  book,  and  different  views  have 
been  held  as  to  their  historic  value.  But  so  far  as 
the  astrological  references  in  ch.  2  are  concerned, 
no  difficulty  need  be  felt  about  the  narrative.  The 
Evangelist,  it  is  true,  does  not  raise  any  question  a-s 
to  the  reality  of  the  connexion  between  the  'star' 
and  the  birtli  of  Jesus.  On  the  possibility  of  such 
a  connexion,  no  doubt  he  shared  the  common 
beliefs  of  his  time.     But  we  may  accept  his  state- 


132 


ASSURA^^CE 


ATONEMENT 


ment  of  the  facts  without  being  compelled  to 
admit  that  there  is  any  truth  in  astrological 
tlieoriea.  The  famous  calculation  of  Kepler  shows 
that  an  unusual  conjunction  of  Mars,  Jupiter,  and 
Saturn  took  place  about  B.C.  7,  and  it  is  quite 
conceivable  that  this  or  some  .similar  phenomenon 
may  in  God's  providence  have  led  the  Wise  Men, 
even  through  the  mistaken  principles  of  their 
science,  actually  to  visit  Palestine  about  the  time 
when  Jesus  was  born.  See  further,  artt.  i\Iac:i 
and  Star.  James  Patrick. 

ASSURANCE.— This  term  stands  for  the  fact  and 
the  doctrine  of  personal  fellowship  with  God  in 
Jesus  Christ,  made  certain  to  the  consciousness  of 
the  believer  by  the  direct  witness  of  the  Holy 
Spirit.  The  prophetic  ideal  appears  in  the  promise 
of  a  peaceful  work  of  righteousness,  the  efi'ect  of 
which  is  quietness  and  confidence  for  ever  (Is  32"). 
In  Mt  11"  Jesus  declares  that '  no  one  knoweth  the 
Father  save  the  Son,  and  he  to  whomsoever  the 
Son  willeth  to  reveal  him.'  Such  a  personal  revela- 
tion of  God  to  the  believer  in  Christ  would  seem  to 
be  necessarily  obvious  and  assuring  to  him  who 
receives  it.  The  immediate  context  also  gives 
assurance  of  rest  and  comfort  to  the  souls  of  all 
who  labour  and  are  heavy  laden,  and  who  come  to 
Christ  for  help.  This  teaching  is  conhrmed  and 
enhanced  by  the  doctrine  of  the  Gospel  of  St.  John 
concerning  the  Comforter.  This  heavenly  Com- 
forter, the  Holy  Spirit  of  truth,  bears  witness  of 
Christ,  and  makes  known  the  things  of  Christ,  unto 
those  who  receive  and  love  Hira  (Jn  lo-""  16'^). 
The  world  cannot  receive  this  Spirit  of  truth,  for 
He  is  an  invisible  presence,  known  only  to  the  be- 
liever with  whom  and  in  whom  He  abides  (14"). 
Those  disciples  in  whom  the  Spirit  thus  dwells  are 
loved  by  the  Father  and  realize  the  manifestation 
of  Christ,  so  that  Father,  Son,  and  Spirit  come  unto 
them  and  make  their  abode  with  them  (14='-  ^). 
The  doctrine  also  finds  noteworthy  confirmation  in 
the  First  Epistle  of  St.  John  (.3's-»'  4'^),  where  it  is 
said  that  the  Spirit  of  God  and  of  Christ  abides  in 
the  believer,  and  assures  Ijjersuades)  his  heart  with 
the  Divine  conviction  of  His  immediate  presence, 
so  that  he  has  great  '  boldness  toward  God '  (Trop- 
fyi)fflav  TTpbs  rbv  6ebv). 

That  the  Holy  Spirit  bears  immediate  and  direct 
witness  within  the  human  spirit  to  the  fact  of  one's 
being  a  child  of  God,  is  the  explicit  teaching  o{ 
St.  Paul  (Ro  »%  In  Col  2^  we  note  tlie  remark- 
able expression  about  Christian  hearts  being  com- 
forted and  '  knit  together  in  love  unto  all  riches  of 
the  full  assurance  {vXripoipopla,  '  fulness ')  of  under- 
standing' in  knowing  the  mystery  of  God.  The 
same  truth  appears  in  the  phrases  '  full  assurance 
of  hope '  and  '  full  assurance  of  faith  '  (He  6"  10=^). 
The  author  of  the  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews  declares 
faith  itself  to  be  'assurance  of  things  hoped  for, 
conviction  of  things  not  seen'  (11')- 

This  Biblical  doctrine  of  Assurance  presents  one 
of  the  most  precious  truths  of  the  gospel  oi  Christ. 
It  presupposes,  as  a  matter  of  course,  the  believer's 
personal  acquaintance  with  the  saving  truths  of 
Christianity  and  the  facts  of  Divine  revelation  ; 
but  it  has  been  needlessly  complicated  with  the 
dogmas  of  Election  and  the  final  Perseverance  of 
the  Saints.  It  should  not  be  construed  to  involve 
a  present  assurance  of  final  salvation,  but  it  sliould 
be  defined  and  guarded  against  the  various  de- 
lusions of  mere  subjective  feeling.  A  spiritual 
conviction,  however  deep  and  assuring,  needs  the 
constant  test  of  verification  in  a  pure  and  upright 
life.  It  must  have  the  'testimony  of  our  con- 
science, that  in  holiness  and  sincerity  of  God,  not 
in  fleshly  wisdom  but  in  the  grace  or  God,  we  be- 
haved ourselves  in  the  world'  (2  Co  1").  The 
fruit  of  the  Spirit  (Gal  5---')  must  supplement  and 


continuously  establish  the  personal  witness  of  the 
Spirit.  Therefore  Jesus  Himself  gave  the  im- 
portant admonition  that  the  real  character  of  a 
tree  is  known  by  its  fruit  (Mt  7''"-"i. 

LlTEKATDRE.— Calvin,     /..''-;,         1,        |,,      ,1,      ,,      55    15-17; 

Westminster  Confession.      1  ,    \\      1    ,■  .  „,t,    "The 

Reformersand  the  Docti  I!.      :     --    i  -:i\inhi8 

Rr/ormersandtheThei'b  In  ■  I  ti ,  i:  ,,,,,'  ,  ;  ,i,,i|ii  Wesley, 
Sermons  on  'The  Witne.^s  01  the  .^inrit,  and  'Thf  Witness  of 
our  own  Spirit';  Richard  Watson,  Tluol.  Institutes,  vol.  u. 
pp.  iHi-isl ;  Hodge,  Siislnnalic  Theology,  vol.  lii.  pp.  106, 107; 
Mik\.  Su.ileiiuitic  Theology,  vol.  ii.  pp.  339-353;  Bishop  Sher- 
lock, Works,  vol.  i.  Discourse  8;  R.  N.  Young,  The  Witness  oj 
the  Spirit,  Fernley  Lecture  of  lSS-2 ;  .T,,riatli:in  KdMards,  Be- 
ligious  Affections,  Part  iii.,  Introd.  ;  I'nnn  r,  ,v;/./,  ,„  „/  Chris- 
tian Doctrine,  vol.  iv.  p.  184;  J.  A^.i  I;,,  i,  /,,.,„„„,<,  231ff.; 
J.  H.  Newman,  Parochial  SermoH^,  \.  j  ;'.i ;  .1.  Martineau, 
National  Duties,  IKS.  iM.  S.  TerRY. 

ATONEMENT.  —  The  Atonement  is  the  recon- 
ciling  work  of  Jesus  Christ  the  Son  of  God,  in 
gracious  fulfilment  of  tlie  loving  purpose  of  His 
Father  ;  whereby,  through  the  sacrifice  of  Himself 
upon  the  Cross  once  for  all,  on  belialf  and  instead 
of  sinful  men,  satisfaction  was  made  for  the  sins  of 
the  world  and  communion  between  God  and  man 
restored. 

The  starting-ix)int  of  Christian  experience  is  the 
ResuiTection  of  Jesus  (1  Co  15",  Ro  i'^).  It  may 
now  be  taken  as  accepted  that  the  belief  of  the 
primitive  community  and  the  Apostolic  preaching 
were  based  on  this  conviction  (see  Harnack, 
WhatisCh-istianity?  Eng.  tr.  Lect.  ix. ;  Schmiedel, 
Encyc.  Bibl.  art.  '  Resurrection  ').  This  fact,  rein- 
forced by  successive  appearances  of  the  risen 
Christ  whether  to  individuals  or  the  assembled 
disciples,  led  to  the  further  conviction,  the  ulti- 
mate root  of  the  doctrine  of  the  Atonement,  that 
Jesus  of  Nazareth,  crucified,  risen,  ascended,  was 
present  in  the  midst  of  the  Christian  congregation. 
He  who  in  the  days  of  His  ministry  had  claimed 
authority  on  earth  to  forgive  sins  (Mt  9-"*),  con- 
firming the  word  with  signs  following,  Avho  had 
awakened  an  implicit  trust  as  alone  having  the 
words  of  eternal  life  (Jn  6^  16*'),  and  wlio  had 
manifested  Himself  as  the  one  way  by  which  men 
might  come  to  the  Father  (Jn  14«),  had  fulfilled 
His  own  promise  to  return  to  His  elect  and  abide 
with  them  to  the  end  of  the  days  (Mt  282").  The 
first  corporate  act  of  the  disciples  was  to  claim  the 
promise  to  bepresent  in  the  midst  of  two  or  three 
gathered  in  His  name  (Mt  18-°),  by  calling  upon 
their  Master  to  choose  into  the  Apostolate  one  of 
two  set  before  Him  conceived  as  invisibly  present 
(Ac  l"-^).  Moreover,  He  was  present  in  power  as 
exalted  to  God's  right  hand,  not  therefore  limited 
by  time  and  space,  but  acting  under  Divine, 
eternal  conditions,  arising  to  succour  His  martyr 
Stephen  (Ac  7«-69),  manifesting  Himself  as  the 
Righteous  One  to  St.  Paul  (22"),  giving  specific 
revelations  of  His  will  to  Ananias  and  to  St.  Paul 
himself  {9*-^-  "-'^  IS'*- "  23"),  and  performing  those 
greater  works  of  which  He  had  spoken  (Jn  14'-) 
through  those  who  wrought  in  His  name  (Ac  3* 
9**).  This  conviction,  peculiarly  vivid  in  the 
earlier  ages,  is  clearly  traced  in  the  hymns  ad- 
dressed to  Christ  'as  to  a  god'  (Pliny's  Letter  to 
Traian),  and  in  the  records  of  early  martyrdoms. 
And  the  realism  with  which  it  was  held  even  as 
late  as  the  4th  cent,  is  attested  by  apologetic  like 
that  of  Athanasius  (see  de  Incamatione,  46  ff. ),  or 
traditions  like  that  of  the  consecration  of  St.  John 
Lateran. 

But  proclamation  of  forgiveness  of  sins  through 
faith  in  the  name  of  Jesus,  though  arising  out  of 
the  conviction  that  the  Absolver  was  Himself  in 
the  power  of  His  deity  still  present  on  earth,  was 
not  made  until  the  realization  of  the  promise  of 
the  Spirit  in  the  Pentecostal  gift.  To  this  fact, 
the  external  results  of  which  were  present  in  the 
experience  of  his  hearers,  St.  Peter  appealed  as 


1 


ATONEMENT 


ATONEMENT 


133 


V  itnessing  to  the  reality  of  Jesus'  exaltation  and 
His  power  to  remit  sins.  (Ac  2*^,  cf.  Gal  3").  This 
significant  element  in  the  first  preaching  of  the 
Gospel  answers  by  anticipation  oljjections  urged 
against  the  Atonement  as  involving  immoral  con- 
sequences and  unworthy  views  of  God.  Not  only 
in  this  passage  but  throughout  the  Acts  the 
possession  of  the  Spirit  is  emphasized  as  the  essen- 
tial mark  of  discipleship  (Ac  2»  4='  5^=  g"-'"  9"  10"' 
Ijio  J362  191-6).  xiie  call  to  repentance,  intimately 
associated  with  the  gift  of  the  Holy  Spirit  (Ac 
2^,  cf.  Mt  3^'),  necessarily  involved  a  life  con- 
formed to  the  image  of  the  Son  of  God.  The 
Gospel,  though  a  message  of  God's  free  favour 
with  no  condition  of  antecedent  righteousness, 
referred  to  moral  results,  the  manifestation  of  an 
imparted  spirit,  as  evidence  of  the  truth  of  the 
promise  (Ro  S'^- »,  Gal  5^^-24)  ^nd  when  the 
doctrine  of  justification  by  faith  was  challenged 
by  imperfectly  instructed  Christians,  St.  Paul  met 
the  charge  by  an  abrupt  appeal  not  only  to  ele- 
mentary moral  convictions,  but  to  the  implications 
of  baptism  as  a  new  and  spiritual  birth  (Ro  6'""). 
Nor,  again,  was  it  possible  for  those  to  whom  the 
possession  of  the  Spirit  was  a  fact  of  experience  to 
regard  God  otherwise  than  as  the  Father.  For 
He  who  dwelt  within  them  was  the  Spirit  of 
Christ  Jesus  (Ac  16',  Ro  8^  Pli  1",  1  P  1"),  the 
promise  of  the  Father  (Ac  l"),  whereby  they  had 
themselves  attained  the  adoption,  and  were  enabled 
to  cry,  'Abba,  Father'  (Ro  8'*-",  Gal  4«). 

The  fact  of  Pentecost  was  immediately  explained 
as  that  outpouring  of  the  Spirit  upon  all  flesh  which 
was  to  mark  the  establishment  of  the  Messianic 
kingdom  (Ac  S'^-^^  S^'-  ^-).  It  stood  directly  related 
to  tlie  event  of  which  the  Apostles  were  the  chosen 
witnesses,  the  Resurrection  of  Jesus,  whereby  He 
was  exalted  to  be  a  Prince  and  a  Saviour  unto  the 
remission  of  sins  (Ac  2^-  ^),  of  which,  according  to 
Hebrew  expectation,  the  kingdom  was  to  be  the 
home  {e.ff.  Jer  31,  Ezk  Se'^-'").  The  assurance  that 
Christ  was  the  ever  present  source  of  forgiveness 
gave  its  supreme  significance  to  the  Cross  by 
which  He  entered  into  His  glory  (Jn  12^-).  Later 
theologians  have  been  charged  with  '  placing  the 
emphasis  too  exclusively  upon  the  death  of  Jesus 
as  the  means  of  redemption'  (H.  L.  Wild,  Contcntio 
Veritatis,  Essay  iii.).  But  the  evidence  of  the  NT 
is  in-esistible.  It  is  true  that  the  earliest  sermons 
lay  stress  rather  upon  the  fact  of  the  Resurrection, 
but  always  as  closely  following  upon  the  Death, 
which,  though  inflicted  by  His  enemies,  resulted 
from  the  determinate  counsel  of  God  (Ac  2^),  who 
glorified  '  his  Servant '  Jesus.  The  frequent  repeti- 
tion of  this  OT  expression  {-irais  SeoO)  in  the  early 
chapters  of  Acts  (3"-  '^  4"-  *'),  taken  in  connexion 
with  explicit  references  to  the  things  which  God 
foreshadowed  by  the  prophets  that  His  Messiah 
should  suffer  (Ac  2=^  3»  4"-  '■^-'^  13^' ;  cf.  1  Co  15^ 
1  P  1"),  leaves  no  room  for  doubt  that  Philip  the 
Evangelist  was  not  alone  in  beginning  from  the 
picture  of  Jehovah's  Suttering  Servant  to  preach 
Jesus  (Ac  8''),  but  that  tlie  Apostles  gave  their 
witness  to  the  Resurrection  by  preaching  what  St. 
Paul  called  '  Christ  crucified  '  (1  Co  l-^,  cf.  Gal  S'). 
The  Crucifixion  was  regarded  neither  as  a  bare  fact 
nor  as  the  symbol  of  a  theological  system,  but  as  a 
'gospel,' an  event  whose  reality  lay  in  its  signifi- 
cance, a  message  of  Divine  favour  and  forgiveness. 
The  central  fact  of  Christ's  life  and  work  was  com- 
plex, consisting  of  both  the  Cross  and  the  Resur- 
rection. The  NT  considers  neither  apart.  The 
redeeming  efficacy  is  attached  to  eadi  in  turn. 
While,  according  to  the  compressed  formula  in 
which  St.  Paul  expresses  the  conlcjil  of  liis  .uosiiel, 
'  Christ  died  for  our  sins  and  rose  iiuuii  Un;  third 
day'  (1  Co  15'-  ■*),  the  common  form  oi  tlir  I'ctrine 
preaching  represents  God  as  raising  iiji  Jesus  '  for 


to  give  repentance  and  remission  of  sins '  (Ac  5™-  s' ; 
cf.  232-3S  31=- =8,  1  P  pi  3=',  also  Ro  4^  and  1  Co  15"). 
But  it  was  the  Cross  that  tended  to  fix  itself  as 
the  central  fact,  and  therefore  the  characteristic 
symbol  of  Christendom.  It  is  the  figure  of  Him 
'  who  bare  our  sins  in  his  Iwdy  on  the  tree '  which 
dominates  the  First  Epistle  of  Peter  (1  P  2"). 
And  the  2nd  cent.  Gospel  according  to  Peter  has 
contrived  with  singular  fidelity  to  the  Apostle's 
mind  to  give  an  imaginative  picture  of  the  Resur- 
rection, wherein  the  Cross  is  curiously  blended 
with  the  rending  tomb  (Gospel  ace.  to  Peter,  §  10, 
ed.  Robinson  and  James).  With  St.  Paul  the 
gospel  of  Christ,  which  is  the  fixed  point  in  liis 
teaching  (Gal  l'',  1  Co  15',  1  Ti  1",  2  Ti  2\  the 
touchstone  of  all  preaching  (Gal  !*•  ^  1  Ti  P  6'), 
proclaimed  alike  to  Jew  and  Gentile  (1  Co  1=^),  de- 
livered whether  to  St.  Peter  or  to  himself  as  the 
deposit  of  Christian  truth  (1  Co  3",  2  Ti  I'''-  '•■),  is 
'the  word  of  the  cross'  (1  Co  I"'*').  So  remark- 
able is  the  unanimity  of  the  two  great  primary 
preachers  of  Christianity  that  it  leaves  no  room  to 
question  the  statement  of  Hamaok  ( What  is  Chris- 
tianity  ?  Eng.  tr.  Lect.  ix.)  that '  the  primitive  com- 
munity called  Jesus  its  Lord  becau.se  He  sacrificed 
His  life  for  it,  and  because  its  members  were  con- 
vinced that  He  had  been  raised  from  the  dead  and 
was  then  sitting  at  the  right  hand  of  God.' 

To  this  must  be  added  the  general  symmetry  of 
the  NT  and  the  evidence  of  Christian  institutions 
and  Church  History.  The  story  of  the  Passion  is 
out  of  all  proportion  to  the  rest  of  the  Synoptic 
narrative,  as  given  in  each  of  the  three  Gospels, 
unless  the  foreground  is  rightly  occupied  by  the 
Cross.  And  here  the  Fourth  Gospel,  though  it 
emphasizes  the  function  of  revelation  in  the  incar- 
nate life  of  the  Son  of  God,  is  found  in  close  and 
almost  unexpected  agreement  with  its  predecessors. 
The  Apocalypse  rings  with  the  praises  of  '  the 
Lamb'  (Rev  S"""-  '2- is  710.14-17  107-12  141-5  196-9  .  gf.  p 
13*).  The  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews,  though  it  opens 
with  one  of  the  classical  Christological  passages, 
yet  makes  the  Death  of  Jesus  the  pivot  of  its 
teaching  (He  2").  And  the  Epistle  to  the  Romans, 
^vhich  elaborates  the  great  argument  of  Justifica- 
tion through  a  crucified  and  risen  Saviour,  is 
central  to  the  theology  of  St.  Paul. 

Midway  between  the  NT  and  Church  History, 
as  related  in  point  of  evidential  value  to  either, 
come  the  Creed  and  Sacraments.  The  former 
represents  the  inviolable  basis  of  the  word  con- 
centrated in  catechetical  teaching.  That  its  em- 
pha,sis  rested  upon  the  Cross  is  apparent  not  only 
from  such  primitive  formulae  as  the  Apostles' 
Creed,  but  from  the  NT  itself  (1  Co  15»-  \  1  Ti  l'^). 
Baptism  is  the  initiatory  Christian  rite,  and 
whether  it  conveys  or  only  represents  the  forgive- 
ness of  sins,  stood  from  the  first  in  close  relation 
to  the  Death  and  Resurrection  of  Christ  (Mt  28i», 
Mk  16'5- 16,  Ac  2^  813- 16.30  918 1047. 48  igss  1950016,  Ro 
&■*,  Gal  326- ",  Eph  4^-6,  Col  2'=,  Tit  3"-6,  1  P3='; 
cf.  Jn  35,  Ac  1116,  1  Co  I0=,  He  &-^  10-,  1  Jn  5^-% 
The  Eucharist  is  the  Christian  counterpart  of  the 
sacrifice  of  the  Passover,  which  commemorated  the 
deliverance  of  God's  peoijle  from  Egypt ;  it  is 
associated  by  the  terms  of  its  celebration  with  the 
Lord's  Passion,  and  employs  language  of  sacrificial 
import  (Mt  26=6-°-8,  Mk  14=^-=*,  Lk  22W- »,  1  Co  ll'*-" 
lOM-22  [for  Tpixefa  Ki/p£ou=Suffioa-TV«',  cf.  Mai  1'], 
cf.  Jn  65=-6a  [see  Westcott,  ad  loc],  Ex  1'23',  He 
13'"). 

Following  upon  the  Sacraments  is  the  witness  of 
Church  History — the  worship,  the  dogma,  the  art, 
the  experience  of  the  Christian  centuries— which 
have  all  consistently  gathered  round  the  Cross. 
We  are  therefore  entitled  to  hold  that  any  inter- 
pretation of  the  Christian  facts  which  shifts  the 
focus  from  Calvary  to  Bethlehem  or  Galilee  repre- 


134 


ATONEMENT 


ATONEMENT 


sents  a  departure  from  tlie  historic  faith,  and 
tends  to  distort  the  Christian  revelation. 

Theories  of  the  Atonement,  of  which  the  ^-iew 
that  identifies  it  witli  the  Incarnation  may  be 
taken  as  the  norm,  have  inevitably  been  popular 
in  an  age  dominated  by  two  great  influences, 
physical  science  and  Hegelian  philosophy.  But  it 
may  be  doubted  whether  they  have  taken  their 
rise  in  a  study  of  the  facts  of  Scripture  and  not 
rather  in  a  determinist  conception  of  the  Universe, 
to  which  the  Incarnation  seemed  to  give  a  religious 
and  Christian  form.  A  consequence  of  this  method 
of  thought  has  been  the  revival,  in  this  countrj- 
by  Bishop  Westcott  and  others,  of  speculations  like 
those  of  Rupert  of  Deutz  and  the  Scotists,  which 
postulate  an  Incarnation  independent  of  those  con- 
ditions of  human  life  which  demand  the  forgive- 
ness of  sins.*  It  is  perhaps  enough  to  say  of  this 
line  of  thought,  \vith  Dr.  A.  B.  Davidson  (OT 
Prophecy,  ch.  x.),  that  it  involves  'a  kind  of 
principle,  according  to  which  God  develops  Him- 
self by  an  inward  necessity,'  and  which  '  is  cer- 
tainly not  a  Biblical  principle.'  Such  thinking 
invariably  regards  the  Atonement  merely  as  a 
mode  of  the  Incarnation  required  by  the  conditions 
under  which  it  took  place.  And  whether  tliis 
theory  be  specifically  held  or  not,  it  has  been  a 
tendency  of  recent  theology  to  fix  the  mind  rather 
upon  the  ethical  principle  of  the  Atonement,  i.e. 
the  obedience  or  penitence  or  assent  to  God's 
abhonence  of  sin,  of  which  death  is  the  'sacra- 
ment '  or  visible  sign,  than  upon  the  Crucifixion  as 
a  work  intrinsically  eflScacious  apart  from  the 
moral  qualities  expressed  in  its  accomplishment. 
Such  \news  are  defective,  not  because  they  faO 
to  give  expression  to  aspects  of  Christ's  redeem- 
ing work,  but  because  they  stop  short  at  the 
point  where  explanation  is  necessary,  why  these 
qualities  of  the  spirit  of  Jesus  should  have  been 
directed  towards  the  particular  end  of  the  death  of 
the  Cross.  The  climax  of  the  account  which  St. 
Paul  gives  in  the  Epistle  to  the  Philippians  of  the 
exaltation  of  Jesus,  is  neither  the  assumption  of 
human  flesh  nor  the  suflering  of  death,  but  the 
obedience  which  accepted  the  humiliation  of  the 
Cross  as  the  act  whereby  He  fulfilled,  not  the 
general,  but  the  particular  will  of  God  (Ph  2^-", 
cf.  1  P  1"). 

The  Apostles,  as  we  have  seen,  saw  the  purpose, 
and  therefore  the  explanation,  of  this  concrete  his- 
torical event  through  the  medium  of  the  OT. 
Whatever  view  it  may  be  expedient  to  take  of  the 
relation  between  Hebrew  prophecy  and  Jesus  of 
Nazareth,  this  fact  is  of  primary  importance, 
because  it  exhibits  what  in  the  view  of  the  first 
messengers  of  the  Cross  was  the  essential  char- 
acter of  the  good  news  it  was  their  mission  to  pro- 
claim ;  nor  would  the  case  be  materially  altered  if 
the  language  of  Law  and  Prophets  had  merely 
been  chosen  to  illustrate  the  central  idea  of  the 
Gospel.  What  we  find  is  the  remarkable  manner 
in  which  the  idea  of  the  King  and  the  Kingdom, 
consonant  with  contemporai-y  Jewish  expectation, 
is  combined  with  that  of  the  suffering  ^Iessiah,  so 
alien  to  the  current  interpretation  of  the  Scrij)- 
tures  as  to  present  '  to  the  Jews  a  stumbling- 
block.'  The  antithesis  between  the  Cross  and  the 
Resurrection  was,  indeed,  such  as  to  suggest  that 
the  death  of  Jesus  was  united  to  its  marvellous 
sequel  by  a  chain  of  causation  removing  it  from 
the  ordinary  category  of  dissolution,  and  making 
it  the  interpretative  fact  of  a  career  otherwise  the 
most   unintelligible  in    historj'.      But   the    main 

'  These  speculations  must  be  distinguished  from  the  teaching 
of  the  Calvinistic  Supralapsarians  of  the  17th  cent.,  which, 
reljing  upon  such  passages  as  Eph  3",  1  P  120,  Kev  138  (V),  main- 
tained that  the  Atonement  waa  itself  the  fulfilment  of  an 
eternal  purpose. 


point  to  observe  is  that  the  Resurrection,  being  in 
the  first  instance  the  crucial  fact  of  experience 
which  marked  off  for  the  disciples  their  Master 
Jesus  as  the  Son  of  God  (Ro  V  opiaBifTos,  cf.  Ac 
2036-43  1323.32.33)^  ratified,  in  the  minds  of  those  who 
had  continued  with  Him  in  His  temptations,  that 
view  of  His  work  which  had  been  before  the  eye  of 
the  Di^■ine  Sufferer  throughout  His  ministry,  and 
which  He  had  progressively  disclosed  to  hearts 
slow  of  belief,  until  a  hitherto  invincible  prejudice 
had  succumbed  to  the  decisive  evidence  of  accom- 
plishment. 

Tlie  persistence  with  which  early  heresies  con- 
nected themselves  with  the  Baptism  of  Jesus  reveals 
the  prominence  which  the  event  assumed  in  the 
story  of  the  ministry,  and  goes  far  to  authenticate 
the  details  of  the  Synoptic  narrative  (Mt  3^^"",  Mk 
P-'i,  Lk  p=^,  cf.  Jn  l32-«),  the  correspondence  of 
which  with  the  Apostolic  view  of  the  Saviom''s 
mission  is  too  subtle  to  warrant  the  theory  that 
they  are  the  glosses  of  a  later  tradition.  In  this 
narrative  Jesus  is  represented  as  doing  something 
more  than  declaring  the  obligation  which  rested 
upon  Him  to  fulfil  that  righteousness  characteristic 
or  the  Hebrew  covenant.  '  Thtis  it  becometh  us  to 
fulfil  all  righteousness,'  i.e.  by  submitting  to  the 
baptism  which  John  would  have  withheld  because 
it  involved  repentance  and  provided  for  the  remis- 
sion of  sins.  The  Voice  from  Heaven,  and  the 
Temptation  endured  in  the  power  of  the  baptismal 
Spirit(Mt4i,  Mk  1'-,  Lk4i),  even  if  they  be  regarded 
merely  as  the  interpretation  of  the  subjective  con- 
sciousness of  Jesus,  witness  to  the  identity  between 
the  scheme  of  the  ministerial  life  accepted  from  the 
first  by  the  Son  of  Man  and  the  gospel  of  the  re- 
deeming work  preached  by  the  Apostles.  For  the 
Voice  blends  the  prophecy  of  the  royal  Son  (Ps  2') 
with  that  of  the  beloved  Servant  (Is  42>),  and  the 


itially  the  refusal  of  Messianic 


Temptation  i 

royalty  on  any  condition  but  that  of  suffering  ser- 
vice. It  is  no  accident  that  the  same  Voice  is  heard 
again  on  the  Mount  of  Transfiguration  (Mt  17' 
and  Mk  9'  o  vlbs  liov  b  aya-ir7p-6s,  Lk  ^  b  vlbs  nov  b 
iK\e\ey)i.ii/os  [v.l.  ayaTntTbi\,  cf.  Is  42'),  when  the 
manner  in  which  righteousness  is  to  be  fulfilled  is 
made  explicit  in  the  subject  of  Jesus'  converse  with 
Moses  and  Elijah,  '  the  decease  which  he  was  about 
to  fulfil'  (Lk  9^'  TXripoSv,  cf.  Mt  3'^  irXijpuo-ot) ;  and 
that  again,  from  the  moment  w  hen  He  begins  to 
make  plain  to  the  unwilling  ears  of  His  disciples 
that  His  throne  can  be  reached  only  through  resur- 
rection after  suffering  and  death.  He  has  to  cry, 
'  Get  thee  behind  me,  Satan '  (Mt  16^).  And  the 
taunt  of  the  rulers  on  Calvary,  w  hen  the  crucified 
Jesus  is  bidden  to  prove  Himself  the  Christ  of  God, 
the  chosen  (Lk  23**  6  ^kX£k7-6s),  makes  it  clear  that 
the  claim  to  be  at  once  the  Messiah  and  the  Servant, 
if  doubted  by  the  disciples  and  derided  by  the  Jews, 
was  at  least  in  the  hour  of  its  accomplishment  sutti- 
eiently  understood. 

It  is  the  Divine  necessity  of  dyin"  wliich  is  pro- 
minent in  the  later  teaching  of  tlie  Lord,  beginning 
from  that  crisis  of  the  ministry  which  is  emphati- 
cally presented  in  all  the  Synoptics  (Mt  16='-^,  Mk 
83>-9',  Lk  9=2").  He  sets  His  face  towards  it  as 
the  end  (Lk  22"  [cf.  Is  53'=]  reXeffff^i-at  and  reXos 
(X^i,  cf.  Jn  ig^**"),  the  goal  to  which  His  whole  life 
moves.     And  in  the  hour  when  the  things 


feature  in  the  {xirtiait  of  the  Sei-vant  as  that  which 
above  all  others  fastened  its  application  upon  Him- 
self. '  I  say  unto  you  that  this  which  is  written 
must  be  fulfilled  in  me,  And  he  was  reckoned  with 
transgressors.'  The  Prophet,  who  at  the  outset  of 
His  ministry  read  in  the  synagogue  of  Nazareth 
tlie  words  foreshadowing  the  deliverance  which 
was  to  issue  in  the  Kingdom  of  God  (Lk  4"'^  =  Is 
61'-=),  knew  that  for  Himself  it  meant  the  Man  of 


ATONEMENT 


ATONEMENT 


135 


Sorrows,  led  like  the  lamb  of  the  Hebrew  ritual  to 
the  slaugliter,  and  in  the  power  of  His  healing 
wounds  making  intercession  for  the  transgressors 
of  His  people  (Is  53  ;  for  the  connexion  with  the 
Ceremonial  Law  see  Davidson,  OT  Prophccn,  ch. 
xxii.)  There  is  thus  no  inconsisteiuy  brlwcru  the 
language  of  Jesus  as  recorded  in  tlic  Syiiu|.i  ii  s  and 
those  utterances  of  the  Fourth  (id-prl  wljich  seem 
to  remove  the  Passion  and  Death  from  the  imme- 
diate historical  conditions,  and  to  represent  tliem 
as  the  decision  of  eternal  issues  by  the  voluntary 
activity  of  the  Divine  Sutterer,  who  lays  down  His 
life  of  Himself  and  judges  the  prince  of  this  world 
on  the  uplifted  throne  of  the  Cross  (Jn  S'-"  10"- "« 

1231-33  143U  Igll.  33)_ 

These  considerations  give  peculiar  point  to  the 
declaration  which,  according  to  both  St.  Matthew 
and  St.  Mark,  stands  in  close  relation  to  the  request 
of  the  sons  of  Zebedee  for  eminent  places  in  the 
Messianic  kingdom.  Messiah's  kingship  is  based 
on  service  which  takes  specific  form  in  the  death 
He  goes  to  accomplish — 'The  Son  of  IMan  <  aiue  lu 
give  his  life  a  ransom  for  many' — a  sulp^lillltiou 
which  made  His  soul  an  ottering  for  sin,  fullillinj; 
all  that  was  foreshadowed  not  only  in  the  redemp- 
tion of  the  people  from  Egypt,  but  also  in  the  re- 
demptions of  the  Ceremonial  Law  (Mk  10'"',  Mt 
20*  Xirpov  avrl  not  iiivip,  cf.  avriXirrpov  1  Ti  2", 
XvTpuffriTaL  Tit  2",  (XvTpuidriTe  1  P  1'*,  where  also  the 
rtfuov  at/jLa  of  Christ  is  the  price ;  Is  o3'",  2  S  7^^ 
Ex  13'^  Nu  1815,  cf.  Ps  498). 

That  Jesus  should  thus  have  recognized  the  true 
significance  of  His  death  as  a  fact  possessing  not 
an  accidental  but  an  inherent  worth,  is  not  incon- 
sistent with  a  due  acknowledgment  of  the  historical 
circumstances  which  became  its  etticient  cause. 
With  regard  to  the  prophecy  of  Jehovah's  Servant, 
it  must  be  remembered  that  the  Sufferer,  though 
offering  a  sacrifice  for  sin  of  which  the  liturgical 
oblation  is  the  type,  yet  incurs  pain  and  death  only 
through  setting  his  face  as  a  flint  (Is  5()*-'')  in  main- 
taining truth  and  righteousness  under  conditions 
which  inevitably  made  this  witness  a  martyrdom. 
And  it  would  be  misreading  the  phenomena"  of  the 
Gospel  narrative  to  represent  the  propitiatory  death 
of  Christ  as  wantonly  sought  by  our  Lord  in  a 
manner  inconsistent  with  the  dictates  of  common 
morality.  The  Cross  could  not  have  been  media- 
torial if  Jesus  had  been  an  official  and  conventional 
Messiah  reaching  Calvary  by  any  other  road  than 
that  which  in  the  first  instance  luaile  Him  one  witli 
His  brethren  (lie  •_""'")  in  the  |.iusuit  of  IlisoHn 
moral  eiiM.      1 1  is  ,l,.;,i  li.  wliich  allots  I  h,.  con.-irnr,. 

(He'J'Mo-l,   l.l.ul    ,..|ilv.r„t,Ml    as    srlr.|l„„l,,|;,li,,„. 

He  'witiirssoa  I.,. lore  Pontius  I'ilal.;  a  -o.kI  con- 
fession'jl  Ti  6';,  cf.  'the  faithful  witness,'  Kev  1= 
S").  His  mission  being  to  establish  the  kingdom 
upon  a  basis  of  surrender  (Mt  20-'*,  Jn  IS''-  "'•''), 
upon  a  gospel  preached  to  the  poor  (Lk  4")  by  one 
who  is  Himself  lowly  in  heart  (Mt  11-"),  He  must 
not  shrink  till  He  send  forth  judgment  unto  victory 
(Mt  12-").  When  there  is  no  more  risk  of  quench- 
ing the  smoking  fla.x  by  appearing  openly  as  the 
uncompromising  foe  of  the  hierarchy.  He  recog- 
nizes that  His  hour  is  come  (Jn  12-^  17'  al.,  JNlk 
14«  cf.  Jn  2*,  Lk  22^'),  changing  the  method  of 
His  discourse  so  that  they  who  reject  Him  may 
perceive  that  He  sjjeaks  of  them  (Mt  ^V^),  and 
without  further  parley  join  the  inevitable  issue. 
There  is,  however,  no  warrant  for  Mr.  F.  W.  New- 
man's theory,  that  Jesus'  denunciation  of  scribes 
and  Pharisees  was  a  deliberate  provocation  of 
judicial  murder  ;  though  it  must  be  remarked  that, 
assuming  the  knowledge  of  power  to  rise  again  the 
third  day,  we  could  not  judge  even  such  an  action 
entirely  by  the  ordinary  standard.  ISIill,  if  theoiie 
necessity  of  the  case  was  a  sacrificial  death  upon 
the  stage  of  history,  the  event  might  have  been 


aecomplished  amid  accessories  more  suggestive  of 
ritual  than  the  Crucifixion.  But  this  would  have 
been  something  less  than  a  moral  act,  whereas  the 
NT  shows  the  propitiation  wrought  by  Jesus  Christ 
'the  righteous'  (1  Jn  2',  Ac  3'^  7^^-  22''')  to  have 
been  something  more.  The  Agony  in  the  Garden, 
followed  by  the  Seven  Words  from  the  Cross, 
attests  the  naturalness  of  the  Passion  as  suffering, 
though  voluntarily  endured,  yet  inflicted  from  with- 
out. It  is  only  after  the  Resurrection  that  the 
human  actors  in  the  tragedy  fall  out  of  sight,  and 
the  Cross  can  be  presented  absolutely  as  that  which 
it  behoved  the  Christ  to  sufJ'er,  so  entering  into  His 
glory  (Lk  24=«). 

From  what  has  been  already  said,  it  follows  that 
an  adequate  soteriology,  or  theology  of  the  Atone- 
ment whicli  is  genuinely  evangelical,  must  be  the 
expres-ion  of  a  spiritual  experience  resting  upon 
Chri>i  s  cl.atli  a-  I  lie  expiation  of  sin.  With  a  tew 
nolalilo  oMojiiiiais,  foremost  among  them  Dr.  R. 
W.   Halo,  tlietnialof  modern   the,;i..uv,  .since  the 

piil.li.alioT,  of  .MI (1  Caniplirll's  trea'lis i  The 

y.llinr  ,,ftl,r  Af.niriiiriil,  has  hcM'll  on  tho  whole  to 
develop  the  doctrine  on  its  etiiical  side,  and  to  find 
its  spiritual  principle  either  in  tlie  sinless  penitence 
or  the  i^erfect  obedience  of  Jesus  (e.g.  Westcott, 
Wilson,  Moberly,  Scott  Lidgett).  The  tendency  of 
these  writings  has  been,  while  dissipating  theories 
of  a  non-moral '  transaction,'  to  obscure  to  a  greater 
or  less  extent  '  the  ottering  of  the  body  of  Christ,' 
and  to  give  an  insufficient  value  to  the  Biblical 
account  of  His  death  as  an  objective  act  of  pro- 
pitiation addressed  to  the  Father  by  the  incarnate 
Son.  No  doubt  English  writers  for  the  most  part 
maintain  that  the  'penitence'  and  obedience  of 
Christ  are  imparted  by  grace  to  the  believer.  But 
between  the  obedience  and  the  grace,  as  that 
which  gives  meaning  to  both,  NT  theology  places 
the  substitutionary  sacrifice. 

St.  Peter  connects  obedience  with  the  '  sprink- 
ling of  the  blood  of  Christ'  (IP  l2-"i8.iS)  and 
the  sin-bearing  of  the  tree  (2-^).  Involving  as 
these  expressions  do  'the  blood  of  the  covenant' 
(Ex  245-8,  Lv  le'^-'"  17"-  i=,  Zee  9"  ;  cf.  He  10-»  13=°, 
and,  for  the  'new  covenant,'  Jer  SP'"**  33*,  Ezk 
36=5),  and  the  laying  of  hands  upon  the  head  of  the 
sin-offering  (Lv  16=',  cf.  Is  53" ;  the  whole  passage 
[Is  SS-"-']  should  be  car.ifnllv  compared  with  1  P 
2='-=5,  and  the  inttuen.o  oi  ili..  I.oviii.al  ...de  in 
moulding  language  and  nloa-.  noleil ),  holh  laniiliar 
conceptions  of  the  ll(l.ro\\  lilnal,  tiiey  point  un- 
doulitedly   to  a  real   transf.-r  o[    unlit,  a  genuine 

sulistitnl'ion,    as    tho    trnc    aninu  of   the   'glad 

tiilin^s'  (1  I'  I'-),  of  wliirli  ilii'  ,\|iostIe  was  the 
witiirss  (:,i|.  The  Christian  society  is  the  'people 
of  (iod's  own  pos-rssion'  (i"- '"),  ransomed  and 
brought  into  coMiiant  by  the  precious  blood.  The 
obedience  and  snllerings  of  Christians  are  not, 
therefore,  redemptive,  for  such  are  already  dead  to 
sin  (2=^). 

With  this  the  Johannine  writings  agree.  FelloAV- 
ship  with  God  is  the  eternal  life  which  Christians 
enjoy,  but  this  mystical  union*  is  effected  by  the 
purifying  blood  of  Jesus  His  Son  (1  Jn  1'),  in  whom 
is  forgiveness  (V-^"  2'  3^),  who  is  the  propitiation 
for  the  sins  of  the  whole  world  (2=i4"',  cf.  5«  [Jn 
1 9^^],  Jn  4«  1 1*',  Ro  3=5  iXocrriJ/jiov).  The  antecedent 
power  of  Christ's  death  is  thus  explained  by  the 
sacrificial  term  iXacr^iSs  to  be  an  effectual  means  for 
turning  away  the  wrath  of  God,  which  the  impres- 
sive imagery  of  the  Apocalypse  represents  as  rest- 
ing upon  the  wicked  (Rev  O'"- "  14'"  and  passim). 
Nowhere  is  the  significant  figure  of  the  Lamb  more 

*  The  tinio  mustica  must  not  be  confouiidccl  n- 


by  iiressJM^'  the  etymolog-, 
P'aulint  equivalent  of  which  (jsar, 
According  to  its  proper  meaning,  t 


lattr 


,  the 


ATONEMENT 


ATONEIMENT 


emphatically  applied  to  Christ  than  in  the  Johan- 
nine  books  ( Jn  l-«-  '^  19^  [Ex  l-2«],  the  Apocalypse, 
passim). 

With  the  Apostle  Paul  we  reach  the  fullest  state- 
ment of  the  doctrine  of  the  Atonement.  And  here 
it  must  be  noted  that  the  Epistles  of  the  first  im- 
prisonment, which  develop  the  teaching  concerning 
the  Person  of  Christ  in  His  eternal  relation  to  the 
Universe  and  the  Church,  follow  those  which  give 
detailed  expression  to  the  reconciliation  of  believers 
to  God  through  the  redemption  which  is  in  Christ 
Jesus. ^  It  would  seem,  tlierefore,  that  theologians 
like  Westcott,  who  subordinate  redemption  to  the 
Incarnation,  are  less  true  to  Christian  experience 
than  those  who  reach  the  Incarnation  through  the 
Atonement.  For  St.  Paul  the  Cross  in  its  twofold 
aspect  of  Death  and  Resurrection  is  the  central 
fact  which  forms  the  subject  of  his  gospel  (I  Co 
lis.  =3  o2_  Gal  5",  1  Ti  25-'),  the  basis  of  Baptism  (see 
alx)ve)  and  of  the  Eucharist  (see  above),  the  source 
of  the  forgiveness  of  sins  (Col  2"-  ",  cf.  3^-,  Eph  4'-), 
the  motive  of  Christian  morality  (Ro  6*),  the  spring 
of  faith  (1  Co  123,  gf  Rq  iqs)  and  of  spiritual  life 
(2  Co  4^"-  ^S  Gal  2^),  and  the  assurance  of  immor- 
tality (2  Ti  1'").  To  this  fact  there  is  a  correspond- 
ing personal  experience,  so  that  baptism  may  be 
represented  as  involving  an  identification  of  the 
believer  with  his  Lord  so  intimate  that  not  only  is 
the  figure  of  putting  on  Christ  as  a  garment  felt  to 
be  appropriate  to  the  initiatory  Christian  rite  (see 
above),  but  His  death,  burial,  and  resurrection 
are  regarded  as  reproduced  in  the  believer  (see 
above).  From  the  Cross  the  Christian  life  takes 
its  specific  complexion,  so  that  'the  new  man 
created  in  righteousness'  (Eph  4^)  becomes  ' cruci- 
fied unto  the  world '  (Gal  6"),  branded  in  the  body 
with  the  marks  of  the  Lord  Jesus  (Gal  6") ;  glories 
in  the  Cross  (v.") ;  and  fills  up  that  which  is  lack- 
ing in  the  sufferings  of  Christ  (Col  1").  Obvi- 
ously, therefore,  the  interpretation  of  this  fact  and 
its  consequent  experience  is  from  the  point  of  view 
of  St.  Paul  the  piimary  task  of  tlie  Christian 
theologian. 

The  interpretative  word  used  in  St.  Paul's  soteri- 
ology  is  KaraWayTi,  'reconciliation'  (Ro  5"  AV 
'atonement'),  the  root  idea  of  wliich  is  restora- 
tion of  jiersonal  relations  between  parties  hitherto 
estranged.  This  involves  the  explanation  of  the 
'  catastrophe  in  human  life,'  sufficiently  evident 
in  common  experience  but  inexplicable  apart  from 
the  Hebrew  realization  of  the  personal  God,  which 
is  set  forth  in  Ro  l'^'^^  as  the  rebellion  of  the  un- 
thankful human  -will  against  the  claim  of  the 
Divine  Creator  (v.=').  The  need  is  universal  (Ro 
39. 23) .«  ijm  tijg  later  Augustinian  terminology, 
which,  in  spite  of  Luther's  return  to  a  fuller 
Paulinism,  still  dominates  the  language  even  of 
Protestant  divinity,  tends  by  tlie  use  of  .such 
figures  a-s  '\-ice'  {vitiiC7n),  'flaw,'  'disea.se,'  to 
palliate  the  exceeding  sinfulness  of  sin  and  to 
obscure  the  personal  significance  of  the  Cross, 
which  is  always  uppermost  in  St.  Paul.  Three 
points  must  be  noted. 

1.  Christ  died  'to  reconcile  the  Father  to  us.'— 
This  phrase,  if  not  strictly  Biblical,  conveys  the 
essential  idea  of  Scripture,  which  is  quite  oh- 
scured  by  the  statement  that  His  death  recon- 
ciles men  to  God.  Modern  teachers,  concerned  to 
vindicate  the  love  of  God,  have  inclined  to  repre- 
sent the  Cross  as  intended  to  produce  merely  a 
change  in  the  moral  life  of  the  sinner.     Not  only 

*  Notice  that  St.  Paul  more  Behraico  states  sin  as  a  universal 
fact—'  all  have  sinned  '—without  developing  a  theory  by  physical 
analogy.  No  amount  of  '  originality'  in  sin  detracts  from  full 
morarresponsibility  towards  God  in  the  individual.  Mr.  Ten- 
nant  in  his  Htilsean  Lectures  speaks  as  though  the  traditional 
doctrine  of  sin  neutralized  personal  disobedience ;  but  this  is 
not  the  case,  as  a  right  understanding  of  St.  Paul's  doctrine  of 
reconcihation  in  Christ  will  show. 


is  this  inconsistent  with  the  idea  of  reconciliation, 
but  St.  Paul,  whUe,  with  the  NT  generally,  always 
re])resenting  the  work  of  Christ  as  arising  in  the 
gracious  will  of  the  Father  (2  Co  5'»- »»,  Ro  5^  8'=, 
Col  l'-'-  =»,  Eph  P-  ",  1  Th  5»,  Tit  3* ;  cf .  1  P  l^  JnS'^ 
and  passiyn,  1  Jn  3^),  yet  invariably  regards  it  as 
the  loving  act  (2  Co  5»  8',  Gal  1*  2™,  Ko  8",  Eph 
5=,  cf.  Jn  10",  Rev  P)  of  a  mediator  (1  Ti  2*-«, 
cf.  He  9'^),  producing  in  the  first  instance  a 
change  in  God's  attitude  towards  the  sinner  (2  Th 
18- ^  Ro  S\  cf.  vv.'-s),  turning  away  ■v\Tath  (1  Th 
V,  Ro  5^),  removing  trespasses  (2  Co  5''),  and  pro- 
riding  a  channel  through  which  God  miglit  forgive 
sins  as  an  act  not  only  of  mercy  but  of  justice 
(Ro  3-"). 

It  is  perhaps  unnecessary  to  argue  with  the 
formality  which  sets  up  an  abstract  Law  *  to 
which  even  God  must  do  homage.  At  this  point 
even  Dale  becomes  somewhat  cumbrous.  But  it 
is  obvious  that  even  the  parable  of  the  Prodigal 
Son  would  not  ring  true  in  human  ears  unless  it 
was  for  ever  interpreted  by  a  transaction  which 
gives  due  weight  to  the  enormity  of  a  sin  that 
entailed  the  sacrifice  of  the  Father's  only  Son. 
Nor  would  St.  Paul  have  succeeded  in  commend- 
ing the  death  of  Christ  to  the  Christian  conscience 
save  by  insisting  that  only  thus  could  God  recon- 
cile a  world  unto  Himself  and  be  alike  just  and 
the  justifier  of  the  believer. 

2,  The  death  of  Christ  is  the  act  of  God  (Tit  2" 
[cf.  2  P  VI  Ro  P,  2  Co  i\  Col  P=,  Ph  2«,  Ro  S^m, 
Ac  20^).— 'It  is  at  this  point  in  the  last  resort 
that  we  become  convinced  of  the  deity  of  Christ ' 
(Denney).  '  God  was  in  Christ,'  who  was  '  marked 
off  as  the  Son  of  God  by  the  resurrection.'  Grace 
is  always  in  St.  Paul  the  free  act  of  God's  favour 
(Ro  3^  4*-^  al.),  and  it  is  'the  grace  of  our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ'  (Ro  5"  16™,  2  Co  8'  13"),  wherebv 
we  have  been  enriched.  The  love  of  Christ  which 
constrains  us,  because  He  died  for  all,  is  Divine 
(2  Co  SI-'-"--'"  'on  behalf  of  Christ'='as  though 
God  were  entreating  by  us ').  The  position  of  the 
justified  sinner  is  that  of  a  restored  sonship,  Ix;- 
cause  his  redemption  from  first  to  last  is  the 
action  towards  him  of  the  eternal  God  Himself. 
His  right  relation  to  the  Father  is  witnessed  by, 
or  rather  is,  the  presence  of  the  Spirit  of  the  Son 
'  sent  forth  '  into  his  heart  by  that  same  God  who 
had  '  sent  forth '  the  Son  Himself  to  work  out  a 
redemption  under  the  conditions  which  imixised 
this  necessity  of  love  upon  the  paternal  heart  of 
God  (Gal  4^-*).  AVhen  this  is  once  apprehended, 
the  objections  to  a  doctrine  of  substitution  ('  ego 
sum  peccatum  tuum,  tu  es  justitia  mea' — 2  Co 
o^)  are  seen  to  have  no  application  in  fact.  They 
are  valid  only  if  the  activity  of  the  Mediator  is 
separated  sharply  from  that  of  the  Father.  Such 
a  distinction  is  neither  Pauline  nor  Christian. 
The  threefoldness  of  God  is  a  revelation  inci- 
dental to  'the  unfolding  of  the  work  of  Divine 
Atonement'  (see  Moberly,  Atonement  and  Person- 
ality,  ch.  viii.).  With  St.  Paul,  as  with  St.  John, 
it  is  the  Father  who  is  revealed  in  the  Son  (see 
above),  whose  work  is  manifest  in  the  work  of 
Christ.  Redemption  is  parallel  to  Creation  (Gal 
6'5,  Col  1'8,  Eph  1",  1  Co  IS*'-^*  ■«';  cf.  Jn  P", 
Rev  2P-5).  K  the  moralitv  of  the  latter  lies  in 
the  fact  that  'God  saw  that  it  was  good,'  the 
justice  of  the  former  is  witnessed  not  only  by  the 
'new  creation'  but  by  the  infinite  worth  of  tlie 
Son  (1  Co  6-"),  whom  God  gave  up  for  us  all  and 
who  endured  the  Cross. 


•  Such  theories,  like  the 
IJotiio  to  express  the  Atnn 
society  dominant  in  thr  -M 
no  doubt  perform  useful 

they  are  a  method  of  expn 
problem. 


in  in  Cur  Deus 


ATONEMENT 


ATONEMENT 


3.  Reconciliation  is  antecedent  to  the  rcncical  of 
the  individual. — This  is  almost  wholly  ignored  in 
modern  German  theology,  which  thereby  goes  far 
to  forfeit  its  claim  to  be  a  true  development  of 
Lutheran  teaching,  losing  touch  with  the  NT 
generally  and  especially  with  St.  Paul.  Ritschl, 
for  example,  for  whom  the  statement  that  'Christ 
expiated  sin  by  His  passion '  has  '  \ery  little  war- 
rant in  the  Biblical  circle  of  thouglit,'  regards  the 
death  of  Jesus  merely  as  '  the  summary  expression 
of  the  fact  that  Christ  maintained  His  religious 
unity  with  God,'  and  places  the  forgiveness  of 
sins  in  the  '  efi'ective  union '  of  believers  with  God 
in  that  Divine  kingdom  which  it  was  the  vocation 
of  Jesus  to  found  {Justification  and  Reconciliation, 
Eng.  tr.  oh.  viii.).  Now,  while  Kitschl  thus  re- 
covers a  truly  Apostolic  conception  in  the  King- 
dom of  God  as  the  primary  object  of  reconciliation 
(see  below),  he  does  so  only  at  the  expense  of  the 
'  finished  work,'  which  is  the  glory  of  all  true 
evangelicalism.  St.  Paul  in  particular  leaves  no 
doubt  as  to  the  objective  character  of  the  '  recon- 
ciliation' wrought  by  Christ,  which  stands  com- 
plete before  the  preaching  whereby  comes  hearing 
and  faith.  'While  we  were  enemies  we  were 
reconciled  to  God  through  the  death  of  his  Son ' 
(Eg  51",  cf.  vv.«-  »• »,  Col  !-'•  ==).  He  has  previously 
shown  (Ro  3''''"-'')  that  the  vindication  of  God's 
righteousness  (^i/Seifis  t^s  SiKtuoaiv-qs  airod),  which 
conscience  requires  as  a  condition  of  the  acquittal 
of  sinners,  has  already  been  given  in  the  redemp- 
tion wrought  by  Christ,  involving  as  it  did  the 
bloodshedding  of  the  Son  of  God,  which  con- 
stituted the  Redeemer  a  propitiation  for  sin.  The 
equivalence  adumbrated  by  the  symbolic  transfer 
of  guilt  to  the  head  of  the  victim  was  consum- 
mated in  Christ  (Ro  8',  2  Co  5=',  Gal  3'=,  cf.  Lv  16' 
also  Hebrews,  passim,  see  below).  The  spectacle 
of  such  a  substitution — not  one  man  redeeming 
Ms  brother,  but  God  putting  Himself  in  the 
sinner's  place — was  the  manifestation  of  a  Divine 
righteousness  to  which  Law  and  Prophets,  the 
Hebrew  dispensation,  had  witnessed  (Ro  3-')-  In 
Christ  crucified  that  righteousness  is  complete, 
needing  no  human  condition  (Ipyov)  to  perfect  it, 
but  oftered  freely  to  him  that  believeth  on  the 
iustifier  of  the  ungodly,  so  that  his  faith  can 
be  reckoned  instead  of  righteousness,*  because 
through  it  the  sinner  appropriates  Christ's  finished 
work  and  becomes  '  the  righteousness  of  God  in 
him'  (2  Co  5=').  Here  the  Atonement,  as  St. 
Paul  interprets  it,  leads  to  the  development  of 
the  doctrine  of  the  Incarnation  (Ro  5'--',  cf.  1  Co 
1 5^''  ^-).  Christ  is  the  second  Adam  ;  He  '  recapi- 
tulates' (Eph  l'",  cf.  Protcv.  Jac.  13,  and  Irena^us, 
bk.  III.  ch.  XXX.  ' recapitulans  in  se  Adam')  the 
human  race,  so  that  His  redemptive,  recreative 
act  has  more  than  a  representative  value.  In 
Him  'all  died'  (2  Co  5").  This  characteristic 
principle  of  Pauline  theology — '  in  Christ '  —  ex- 
pands on  the  other  side  into  the  doctrine  of  the 
new  life  through  membership  (Ro  12^-*,  Eph  4-»') 
in  the  body  of  Christ  and  fellowship  of  the  one 
Spirit  (I  ('..  l->'\  -JC.  13").  The  second  Adam  is  a 
quickHiini;4  spii  i(,  ciidcwed  with  the  grace  of  unc- 
tion (Hooki M,  /;,,/.  I;, I.,  bk.  V.  ch.  lv.),  imparting 
througli  thu  KL^uirceaion  a  Spirit  which  dwells  in 
the  believer  and  finally  quickens  even  his  mortal 
body  (Ro  8"). 

That  the  communion  of  the  elect  people  with 
God  meant  the  indwelling  of  His  Spirit,  is  a 
familiar  idea  of  the  OT  (Is  63«-"  Ezk  36").     So 

•  Much  harm  has  resulted  from  insisting  on  the  '  forensic' 
character  of  this  justification.  No  doubt  hx«.,iu  has  associa- 
tions of  the  law  court ;  but  it  is  as  absurd  to  suppose  that  legal 
fictions  were  present  to  the  mind  of  St.  Paul  as  to  ascribe 
these  ideas  to  the  compiler  of  Genesis  (On  156)  or  the  author  of 
the  thirty-second  Psalm  (Ps  322).  The  word  expresses  only  the 
free  forgiveness  of  the  Father's  love. 


the  body  of  Christ,  which  is  the  Church  (Col  1"), 
being  the  primary  object  of  redemption  (Ac  20=«, 
Eph  !"• "  2"-'s  i*-\  Tit  2" ;  cf.  1  P 2*- 1»),  reconciled 
through  death  (Eph  2}^),  becomes  a  habitation  of 
the  Spirit  (Ejih  2='-  ^2),  distributed  according  to  the 
measure  of  faith  to  the  several  members  (Eph 
4'-  ",  Ro  12'),  which  through  the  Presence  ('Christ 
in  you,'  '  the  Spirit  of  the  Son  shed  abroad  in  your 
hearts,'  'the  fulness  of  God,'  Eph  3'-')  have  a  com- 
mon access  to  the  Father  (Ephi2'»,  cf.  3'=),  manifest 
the  gifts  of  the  Spirit  (1  Co  12^-",  Ro  126-8),  ^^^  j^ 
mutual  dependence  grow  together  to  '  the  measure 
of  the  stature  of  the  fulness  of  Christ '  (Eph  i^^-  '=•", 
Col2'3,  Ro  12*-';).  That  this  teaching,  though  given 
in  St.  Paul's  individual  manner,  was  no  personal 
speculation  of  his  own,  may  be  gathered  from  its 
close  relation  to  the  great  social  sacraments  of 
Baptism  and  the  Eucharist,  which  would  be  start- 
ling if,  in  viewjof  their  generally  accepted  signifi- 
cance in  the  primitive  community,  it  were  not 
obvious  (Eph  4-'-  *,  l  Co  10"). 

To  claim  for  the  death  of  Christ  that  it  is  a  com- 
pleted act  of  reconciliation,  the  ground  of  the  be- 
lieving sinner's  justification,  and  thus  alike  the 
subject  of  adoring  gratitude  and  the  source  of  re- 
newed moral  effort,  is  to  establish  a  doctrine  satis- 
factory to  reason  rather  because  it  sets  the  several 
parts  of  Scripture  and  Christian  teaching  in  an 
intelligible  proportion  to  one  another,  than  because 
it  is  itself  rationally  explained.  The  Cross  estab- 
lishes the  Law  (Ro  3^'),  and,  as  thus  interpreted, 
manifests  and  supjilies  the  need  of  the  human 
spirit,  and  thus  finds  its  justification  in  experi- 
ence. But  propitiatory  sacrifice  remains  to  Ije 
apprehended  rather  than  understood.  This  is  Ije- 
cause  it  is  a  fact  of  religion  rather  than  of  ethics. 
Men  have  felt  the  need  of  something  to  set  them 
right  with  God,  even  when  they  have  been  far 
from  knowing  that  He  is  love.  If  this  distinction 
be  not  perceived,  we  shall  fail  to  see  the  true  bear- 
ing of  the  evidence  from  Comparative  Religion  for 
the  universality  of  the  idea  of  atonement  as  mani- 
fested in  myth,  ritual,  and  custom.  Thus  Sir 
Oliver  Lodge  (see  art.  'Suggestions  towards  the 
Reinterpretation  of  Christian  Doctrine,'  Hibbert 
Journal,  vol.  ii.,  No.  3),  while  admitting  the 
cogency  of  the  universal  belief  in  immortality, 
sees  in  the  crudities  of  the  widespread  practice  of 
sacrifice  only  a  reason  for  discounting  this  ele- 
ment in  traditional  Christianity.  There  can  be  no 
doubt  that  atonement  is  fundamental  to  the  idea 
of  sacrifice  (see  Robertson  Smith,  Religion  of  the 
Semites,  Lect.  vi.  p.  219  ;  Lect.  xi.  pp.  377-384), 
and  that  this  idea  of  '  covering '  is  prominent  in 
the  ritual  of  the  OT  (see  Schultz,  OT  Tkeol.,  Eng. 
tr.  vol.  i.  pp.  384-400). 

Far  from  deprecating,  or  even  ignoring  the 
ancient  sacrifices,  the  NT,  as  we  have  seen,  pre- 
sents Christ  as  the  'Lamb  of  God.'  And  in  the 
Ejiistle  to  the  Hebrews  the  Son  is  explicitly  set 
forth  as  'Himself  the  victim  and  Himself  the 
priest,'  manifested  once  at  the  consummation  of 
the  ages  to  put  away  sin  by  the  sacrifice  of  Him- 
self (He  9=5).  Though,  unlike  St.  Paul,  who  sees 
the  analogy  between  heathen  sacrifices  and  the 
Christian  Eucharist  (1  Co  10'-'),  the  author  of  this 
Epistle  confines  his  .-ittentiiin  to  the  wor.ship  of 
the  Hebrews,  the  ar^nuimiil  iii:i\-  be  legitimately 
extended  to  embrace  thi-  •  l.loi,,!  .'.i  bulls  and  goats' 
offered  under  any  systuui  lor  whut  in  view  of  the 
Cross  is  seen  to  be  a  tyjiical,  conventional  purifi- 
cation and  approach  to  t4od.  Tliere  is,  however, 
one  important  point  in  which  the  Mosaic  sacrifices 
differ  from  all  others.  They  fulfilled  the  primary 
condition  of  Divine  appointment,  and  therefore 
availed  within  the  limits  of  the  institution.  They 
were  inadequate,  not  because,  like  the  oblations  of 
the  heathen,  they  were  material,  but  because,  un- 


138 


ATONEMENT 


ATTRACTION 


liko  the  oU'ering  of  Christ,  tliey  were  triinsitory 
(He^lO^-"),  and  alien  to  those  who  brought  them 
(913. 25j_  Christ,  who  elsewhere  in  the  NT  appears 
as  the  Mediator,  Saviour,  Word  made  flesh,  here 
becomes  specifically  the  Priest  (2"  [o  ayii^on'  = 
'  priest ' ;  the  act  of  consecration  is  identified  witli 
the  Cross  in  13'=,  cf.  2?- '"]  3'  and  passim),  the  ap- 
propriate scientific  term,  as  we  may  call  it,  for 
whoever  establislies  tlie  proper  end  of  religion, 
communion  with  God.  His  is  a  '  finished  work,' 
because  by  Divine  appointment  (3^  5'- •'•'')  He  is 
'  a  priest  for  ever '  (S'"  7-'-  ^),  who  '  through  the 
eternal  Spirit '  (9")  obediently  (5«  10')  fulfilled  tlie 
priestly  function  (8^)  in  ofi'ering  the  body  prepared 
for  Him  by  the  will  of  God  (lO^"'")  as  an  eternal 
sacrifice  (10'-,  cf.  5').  This  is  no  metaphorical 
self-sacrifice,  the  essence  of  which  is  undeviatin 


conformity  to  the  general  law  which  conditions 
human  life.  It  is  '  through  his  own  blood '  (9'^) 
that  He  enters  once  for  all  into  heaven.  This 
lays  the  emphasis  on  His  death  as  the  means 
through  wliich  He  makes  that  purification  of  sins 
(1^  O''')  whereby  access  is  gained  to  the  throne  of 
gi-ace  (10'"  4'''- '").  Tlie  open  way  witnesses  to  a 
sacrifice  already  offered  and  accepted  (10'"  ^7100-- 
fi^vot  not  ayia^ofiei/oi,  W*  TfreXeiwxev  [cf.  Jn  19™] 
Tovs  ayiaio/i^fovs,  which  RV  rightly  translates  'them 
that  are  [not  'are  being']  sanctified').  The  new 
covenant  is  thus  dedicated  with  blood  (9'*"~),  not 
because  life  is  liberated  through  deatli  (for  why 
should  death  effect  tliis  result  except  according  to 
Oriental  mysticism  ?),  but  bpcansc  a  death  must 
have  taken  place  for  tin-  ivil(iii|.t  ion  of  trans- 
gressions (91s  10=»,  cf.  Mk  M-'  an.l  ].aiallcls),  which 
IS,  in  the  pliraseology  of  sarrilicr,  «liat  St.  Peter 
says  when  he  declares  that  '  Christ  bore  our  sins 
in  his  body  on  the  tree'  (1  P  2^). 

Minds  to  which  sacerdotal  ideas  are  repugnant 
will  always  resent  such  language  as  sophistical 
and  superstitious,  and,  if  they  do  not  reject,  will 
endeavour  to  explain  away  what  is  certainly  the 
meaning  of  the  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews.  No  (loubt 
this  particular  mould  of  thought  is  not  necessary 
to  the  gospel,  Avhich  is  content  to  assert  tliat  Christ 
died  for  our  sins.  Yet  the  consequence  of  reject- 
ing it  is  likely  to  be  a  denial  of  the  atoning  char- 
acter of  Christ's  death.  To  describe  the  central 
fact  of  the  gospel  in  ethical  terms  as  a  revelation 
of  love,  an  exhibition  of  obedience,  or  a  manifesta- 
tion of  the  Divine  character,  expresses  a  side  of 
truth,  apart  from  which  a  doctrine  of  substitution 
may  become,  if  not  immoral,  at  least  supersti- 
tious. But  such  descriptions  cease  to  be  true,  if 
they  are  taken  for  definitions.  The  Cross  is  no 
longer  a  revelation,  if  it  be  not  a  redemption.  If 
it  be  large  enough  to  deal  with  a  situation  of 
which  the  factors  are  God,  man,  and  sin  ;  if  it  be 
a  fact  of  religion  through  wliicli  men  ajmroach 
that  Personality  in  whom  they  have  their  ueing, 
its  .significance  cannot  be  understood  unless  it  be 
recognized  as  a  mystery,  illuminating  and  illumi. 
nated  by  life  and  experience,  but  itself  not  re- 
ducible to  simpler  terms.  It  is  at  this  point  that 
'mysteries,'  in  the  Greek  sense  of  the  word,  have 
their  place.  No  organized  religious  system  can 
entirely  dispense  with  them.  And  Christianity 
with  its  sacraments  of  initiation  and  membershii) 
bears  witness  to  the  'mystei-yof  godliness'  (1  Ti 
3'*)  preached  by  it  among  the  nations.  Whatever 
may  be  the  case  with  individuals,  the  race  has 
found  no  language  in  which  to  expre.ss  its  need 
towards  God  but  that  of  inopitiatory  sacrifice. 
To  the  method  of  its  satisfaction  many  analogies 
point,  but  all  taken  together  cannot  sum  up  tlie 
Cross.  For  it  is  essentially  an  eternal  fact,  em- 
bracing but  not  embraced  by  experience ;  and  its 
theory,  though  to  the  spiritual  man  increasingly 
rational,  must  ever  be  less  than  that  which  it  seeks 


to  explain.  It  is  not  distrust  of  reason,  but  the 
confidence  of  intelligent  faith  whicli,  the  more 
surely  it  realizes  the  reasonableness  of  the  evan- 
gelical doctrine  of  the  Atonement,  will  the  more 
readily  make  tlie  words  of  Bp.  Butler  its  own  : 
'  Some  have  endeavoured  to  explain  the  efficacy 
of  what  Christ  has  done  and  suflered  for  us,  be- 
yond what  the  Scripture  has  authorized ;  others, 
probably  because  they  could  not  explain  it,  have 
been  for  taking  it  away,  and  confining  His  office  as 
Kedeemer  of  the  world  to  His  instruction,  example, 
and  government  of  the  Church.  Whereas  the  doc- 
trine of  the  (;.i>inl  appears  to  be  .  .  .  not  only 
that  He  revrali.l  i.i  miiiiiis  that  they  were  in  a 
capacityof  sahii  inii  .  .  .  hut  .  .  .  that  He  put  them 
into  this  oapanty  "t  sal\ation  l)y  what  He  did 
and  suffered  for  thciii.  .  .  .  And  it  is  our  wisdom 
thankfully  to  accept  the  benefit,  by  performing  the 
conditions  upon  which  it  is  offeree!,  on  our  part, 
without  disputing  how  it  was  procured  on  His' 
(Analogy,  pt.  ii.  cli.  v.). 

I  sh  works    J    M  Leod  Campbell, 

t     H  N    Oxenhnn     rcithol  <•  Doc- 

Th      At  t      }    M    W  Ison, 


r  on  art    Sacri- 

ed  A  Rltschl, 

1       [>/i;mnj(Eng. 

Urt,    Dc     Jut 

It  Gott  (EnR. 

h  d    h  blisck. 

I  1     2''0ff)     A. 

ical  EmliUwii 

I         t  of  doctnne 

.11   a  t   r  Dex'i  Homo  are 

J  G  Simpson 

ATONEMENT,  DAY  OF.-See  Day  of  Atone- 
ment. 

ATTRACTION.— Under  this  head  we  shall  con- 
sider the  attraction  possessed  and  exerted  by  the 
character  and  tlie  teaching  of  Christ  as  portrayed 
and  expressed  in  the  four  Gospels.  That  character 
and  that  teaching  are,  of  course,  inseparable ;  for 
the  work  and  tlie  message  of  Christ  are  vitally 
and  absolutely  a  personal  work  and  a  personal 
message.  Thus  the  supreme  appeal  of  the  gracious 
invitation  is  :  'Coine  unto  Me' (Mt  11^).  Christ's 
character  and  teaching  have  an  attraction,  both 
extensive  and  iiitnixivr,  wliich  goes  far  beyond 
the  merely  asthetic  ;  it  is  a  dynamical  and  spiritual 
attraction  imhuling  ami  inonieating  man's  person- 
ality. On  the  one  hand,  there  is  the  uniqueness 
of  the  message  (Jn  T") ;  on  the  other,  the  beauty 
of  tlie  character  (Jn  1'^) ;  and  yet  the  attraction 
of  Christ  for  all  men  is  something  deeper  than  ex- 
pression or  aiial\M-,  lln-  altractiuii  of  One  lifted 
■up  from  the  ^.nth,  ,!,.iir,iiij  nH  im-n,  to  Himself 
(Jn  123-).  Till-. Ill  1,1,  I  hill  i-  I  lie  niiitinual  directed 
pressure  of  His  llnly  Spiiil,  in  the  hearts  of  men, 
and  its  reality  is  suggested  by  Ignatius'  compari- 
son of  the  Cross  to  a  crane  of  which  the  Holy 
Spirit  is  the  rone  to  draw  mankind  upwards  to  the 
Father  in  heaven  (Eph.  9).  Tluj  universality  of 
this  attraction  is exeiiiplilii'il  Iti  I  Im- (  wispi-l  recurds. 
Jesus  was  the  centre  of  ,ili  lari  ion  loi  imiliitudes, 
men  and  women  and  c  liil.ln  n  |.\1L  I  -j  ,  Lk  19** 
etc.);  andZacchseus  (Lk  IJ'),  .Nituileiuus  (Jii  3=), 
the  'Greeks'  (Jn  12"')  are  only  instances  of  this 
attractive  power  which  had  its  culmination  in  the 
response  of  the  Apostles  to  their  Master's  call. 
In  these  cases  tlie  attraction  was  visibly,  audibly. 


ATTRIBUTES  OF  CHRIST 


ATTRIBUTES  OF  CHRIST        139 


and  sensibly  personal ;  the  objects  of  it  saw,  heard, 
and  often  felt  the  Man  that  is  called  JESUS  (Jn  9", 
1  Jn  V). 

To-day,  the  attraction  of  the  teaching  mast  be 
held  to  "be  jicrsonal  still,  through  that  action  of 
the  Holy  Spirit  which  is  implied  in  the  inspiration 
of  the  Gospels.  Tliis  attniction  may  also  be  said 
to  have  its  seat  in  the  fact  of  the  revelation  of  God- 
in-man  vouchsafed  to  the  race  of  men  fashioned 
in  the  likeness  of  God.  Thus  no  limits  can  be  set 
to  the  efficacy  of  the  attraction  of  Christ  which 
starts  from  such  a  source :  witness  the  unfailing 
attractiveness  of  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount  (Mt 
5-7)  and  the  last  discourses  (Jn  13-17).  The 
attraction,  too,  increases  many-fold  as  it  takes 
effect  in  drawing  us  nearer  to  the  Master.  One 
feature  of  this  will  be  the  more  easy  and  quick 
perception  of  fresh  beauties  and  glories  in  the  four- 
fold Gospel  of  Christ,  the  acquisition  of  grace  upon 
grace  (Mt  11,  Mk  10,  Lk  15,  Jn  9). 

More  difficult  of  expression,  and  intertwined 
with  this  attraction  of  the  teaching,  is  the  at- 
traction of  the  character.  Christ  appealed  to  it. 
'Me  ye  have  not  always'  is  the  pathetic  appeal 
He  made  as  man  (Mt  26");  'I  am  with  you  all 
the  days '  is  the  glorious  promise  He  makes  as  God 
(Mt  28™).  Above  all,  however,  it  is  the  work  of 
Christ  in  the  sacrifice  of  self  for  love  of  others  that 
draws  the  heart  of  man  with  cords  stronger  and 
surer  than  any  variable  and  uncertain  attractions. 
'  Having  loved  his  own  which  were  in  the  world, 
he  loved  them  unto  the  end'  (to  the  uttermost,  els 
tAo!,  Jn  13').  It  is  the  Cross  of  Christ  which  is 
the  supreme  instrument  of  the  attraction,  the  Cross 
on  which  He  was  lifted  up  in  glory  and  in  shame. 

LiTBEATURE.— Seeley,  Ecce  Honw  15,  p.  166  f. ;  Bruce,  Galilean 

rospel,  p.  30  ff.  and  '         ~  "       "  '        -•    ■  

Atonement^t  p.  438 f, 

ATTRIBUTES  OF  CHRIST. -In  the  Divine 
Person  of  Jesus  Christ  two  perfect  Natures  were 
united.  We  shall  therefore  hnd  attributes  belong- 
ing to  (1)  His  Divine  Nature,  (2)  the  union  of  the 
two  Natures,  (3)  His  true  Human  Nature.  As  in 
dealing  with  certain  passages  the  extent  of  the 
Kenosis  will  weigh  greatly,  the  present  arrange- 
ment must  be  taken  as  largely  provisional. 

i.  Attributes  belonging  to  Christ's  Divine 
Nature.— Jesus  Christ  is  the  manifestation  of  the 
Divine  attributes.  He  is  '  the  image  (eiVu;-)  of  tlie 
invisible  God  '  (Col  1'^) ;  '  theefl'ulgence  {dTraiiyafffia) 
of  his  glory,  and  the  very  image  (xapaKviip)  of  his 
substance'  (He  V)  ;  '  the  power  of  God  and  the 
wisdom  of  God  '  (1  Co  1-'^)— synonyms  for  A6705,  in 
the  phraseology  of  Jewish  speculators.  He  applied 
to  Himself  words  spoken  of  God,  making  the 
significant  change  of  '  Me  '  to  '  Thee  '  (Lk  T^,  cf. 
Mai  31  and  Lk  1"  3*)  ;  He  asserted  that  He  came 
forth  from  God  (c/c  Jn  8^=,  cf.  irapd.  \T,  airb  13"), 
words  which  '  can  only  be  interpreted  of  the  true 
divinity  of  the  Son  of  which  the  Father  is  the 
source  and  fountain  '  (Westcott)  ;  He  claimed  the 
power  of  interpreting  and  revising  the  Mosaic  law 
(Mt  5="',  Mk  10«)  ;  He  acted  in  the  temple  as  its 
master  ( Jn  2'«,  Mt  2V^) ;  He  accepted  from  Thomas 
the  supreme  title  (Jn  20»),  and  joined  His  name 
permanently  with  that  of  the  Father  (Mt  28'»). 

St  John  identified  the  Divine  Person  of  Isaiah's 
vision  with  Christ  (Jn  12^').  St  Paul  charged  the 
Ephesian  elders  to  '  feed  the  Church  of  God  which 
he  purchased  with  his  own  blood'  (Ac  20=8)  and 
api.lic-.I  u,  Clirist  the  wci.ls  ,,f  Joel,  'Whosoever 
shall  r.ill  upon  tliL-iiuiii.;ol  th.-  LoiiD  shall  be  saved' 
(Ko  10'-).  Tims  llf  is  (»in-  to  whom  prayer  is 
oflered  (Ac  7'="  1-^  probably),  cf.  one  of  the  earliest 
names  for  His  disciples  (Ac  9"-  -1,  1  Cor  P).  In 
the  Epistles  His  Divinity  is  everywhere  assumed 
and  IS  'present  in  solution  in  whole  pages  from 


which  not  a  single  text  could  be  quoted  that 
explicitly  declares  it.'  *  His  name  is  joined  with 
that  of  the  Father,  and  a  singular  verb  follows 
(1  Th  3>i,  2  Th  2«'-");  the  title  'Lord'  in  the 
highest  sense  is  given  (Ro  10",  1  Cor  12',  etc.)  ;  He 
is  'God  blessed  for  ever '  t  (Ko  9^),  and  'in  him 
dwelleth  all  the  fulness  (irXripaiia)  of  the  Godliead 
bodily  '  (Col  2»,  cf.  1">  Jn  l'"). 

1.  Eternal  Existence — Christ  claimed  that  He 
came  down  from  heaven  without  ceasing  to  be 
what  He  was  before  (Jn  S''').  Existence  without 
beginning  is  implied  in  8"*^  '  before  Abraham  was 
born  {neviaeai.)  1  am  '  (fi/xO,  cf.  Rev  21"  ;  and  He 
spoke  of  the  glory  which  He  had  with  the  Father 
before  the  world  was  (Jn  17°).  The  A670!  was  in 
the  beginning.  He  was  the  '  mediate  Agent  of 
Creation '  (Jn  P-  \  Col  l'".  He  1-  ">) ;  He  is  the 
upholder  of  all  things  (Col  1",  He  P),  the  '  first- 
born of  all  creation'  and  'before  all  things'  (Col 
jis.  17)^  (,f_  t,i,g  ,jgg  pf  i  manifested '  (diavipomeai.)  in 

1  Ti  3'",  1  P  \-\  etc. 

2.  Unique  Relation  to  God.— In  a  few  passages 
only  does  Jesus  call  Himself  the  Son  of  God  (Lk 
22™,  Jn  5=5  9'^  \l\  cf.  Mt  27'^  Jn  lO^") ;  yet  He 
was  early  conscious  of  His  Sonship  (Lk  2'").  He 
frequently  accepted  the  title  (cf.  Mt  16'"*),  and  this 
led  to  the  charge  of  blasphemy  (Jn  19',  cf.  5'*). 
From  the  earliest  time  it  was  adopted  as  expre.s.sing 
the  uniqueness  of  His  Person  (Ac  9=",  Ro  P,  etc.). 
He  is  described  as  the  '  Only-begotten  '  {iJ.ovoyerli%, 
Jn  !"■  18  3"i-  '8,  1  Jn  4»).  He  spoke  of  '  My 
Father,'  'Your  Father,'  but  not  of  'Our  Father' 
(except  as  a  form  of  address  to  be  used  by  His 
disciples  in  prayer,  Mt  6^  Lk  11=  AV),  '  thus  draw- 
ing a  sharp  line  of  distinction  between  Himself 
and  His  disciples,  from  which,'  says  Dalman,t 
'it  may  be  perceived  that  it  was  not  the 
veneration  of  those  that  came  after  that  first 
assigned  to  Him  an  exceptional  relation  to  God 
incapable  of  being  transferred  to  others. '  In  this 
respect  Mt  1 1-',  which  forms  the  link  between  the 
Synoptics  and  the  Fourth  (iospel,  is  quite  explicit 
(cf.  Hastings'  DB  ii.  623) ;  cf.  also  Mk  13=^^  and  the 
clear  distinction  made  in  Jn  20". 

3.  Union  and  Equality.— The  Jews  interpreted 
His  words  '  My  Father  worketh  even  until  now 
and  I  work '  as  making  Himself  equal  with  God, 
and  He  did  not  correct  them  (Jn  5"- '").  '  I  and 
the  Father  are  one '  (ev  ca-fMcp)  implies  one  essence 
not  one  Person  (10™),  cf.  5=^  10^  W-  17"-  ="•.  It 
is  difficult  to  describe  the  manner  in  which  St. 
Paul  associates  Him  with  the  Father  as  the  ground 
of  the  Church's  being  and  the  source  of  spiritual 
grace  and  peace,  in  any  other  terms  than  as 
ascribing  to  Him  a  coequal  Godhead  (1  Th  1'  3'"-, 

2  Th  1',  2  Co  13'^),  cf.  Ph  2''  (oOx  apiray/j.oi'  i]yqaaTo 
t6  ehai.  iua  Set}). 

4.  Subordination  and  Dependence  —  such  as 
belong  to  the  filial  relation — are  also  clearly  implied 
in  Jn  5''->  ('The  Son  can  do  nothing  of  himself,  but 
what  he  seeth  the  Father  tloing  :  for  what  things 
soever  he  doeth,  these  the  Son  also  doeth  in  like 
manner'),  and  in  Jn  14="  ('The  Father  is  greater 
than  I'),  cf.  also  Jn  5==-="  6".  So  in  Epp.  'All 
things  are  yours  ;  and  ye  are  Christ's  ;  and  Christ 
is  God's'  (I'Co  3=1-='),  cL  1  Co  IP  15=8. 

5.'  Universal  Power  is  frequently  claimed  by 
Christ  as  His  even  on  earth,  although  it  could  not 
be  fuUy  exercised  until  after  the  Ascension  (Lk 
10=-  II  Jn  16").  He  is  given  authority  (it.ovala)  over 
all  flesh  (Jn  17=);  'All  authority  hath  been  given 
unto  me  in  heaven  and  on  carl  \\  (Mt  2S'8),  cf.  Jn 
3^^=13'*.  Accordingly  SI.  I'.hi  .!.■  .  ribes  Him  as 
'  Lord  of  all '  (AelO'^'^) ;  Hr  is  -ox.-i  ,ill  '  (lloO-') ;  and 
the  '  head  of  all  principality  and  power'  (Col  2'"). 

•  Dale,  Christian  Doctrine,  p.  87. 

t  See  Sanday-Headlam,  Romans,  pp.  233-233. 

;  The  Words  of  Jems,  p.  190  (Eni;.  tr.). 


140        ATTEIBUTES  OF  CHEIST 


ATTRIBUTES  OF  CHRIST 


He  is  present  still  witli  His  Church  though  invisible 
(Mt  IS-""  28-",  cf.  1  Co  5^),  ruling  and  guiiling  (Ac  9'" 
22-8  23",  and  cf.  the  letters  to  the  Churches,  Rev 
2.3). 

6.  Divine  Consciousness  and  Knowledge.  — 
Jesus  claimed  a  unique  knowledge  of  the  Father 
and  the  exclusive  power  of  revealing  Him  (Mt  11"). 
He  spoke  of  heavenlj'  things  which  could  only  be 
known  by  Divine  consciousness  (Mt  IS'"-  '",  Lk 
IS'",  Jn  3'-'  14').  He  was  the  great  Prophet  which 
waste  come  (Jn  6'^  Ac  3==),  the  fullest  revealer  of 
God's  will  (He  l^),  but  He  differed  essentially  from 
even  the  highest  prophets,  in  that  He  spoke  witli 
authority  as  from  Himself,  and  never  introduced 
His  message  by  such  words  as  '  Tims  saith  the 
Lord.'  '  In  him  are  all  the  treasures  of  wisdom 
and  knowledge  hidden '  (Col  2^).  He  knew  (Jn  18^) 
and  made  known  the  details  of  His  Passion  and 
Resurrection  (Mk  8^'  ff"  lO^^  etc.,  cf.  W-^).  He 
foretold  the  sufferings  of  His  disciples  (Mt  lO'"), 
the  destruction  of  Jerusalem  (Lk  19"-  ■"  21-'),  events 
preceding  the  end  of  the  world  (Mt24||)  and  the 
judgment  of  mankind  (see  below).  Here  too  may 
be  mentioned  His  power  of  knowing  the  thoughts 
of  men.  Such  knowledge  is  described  both  as  rela- 
tive, acquired  [yifuaKeti',  cf.  Mk  2*),  and  absolute, 
posses.sed  {eldemi,  cf.  Jn  6"',  Lk  11"),  cf.  Lk  V^-  "» 
9*'.  He  seems  to  be  addressed  as  KapSioyvwaT-qi  in 
Ac  1^,  which  agrees  with  what  is  told  as  to  His 
supernatural  knowledge  of  the  thoughts  and  lives 
of  persons,  cf.  Jn  2='-  ^  ('  He  knew  all  men.  .  .  . 
he  himself  knew  what  was  in  man  '),  also  Lk  19^, 
Jn  1«  4'8-  2"  6"  11"-  ".  It  appears  also  with  regard 
to  things  (Mt  17="  2P  26'8,  Lk  b*-^,  cf.  Jn  21«). 
Whether  such  passages  imply  absolute  omniscience, 
or  onmiscience  conditioned  by  human  nature,  de- 
pends uixjn  the  view  taken  of  the  Kenosis  (see  West- 
cott.Add.  Note  on  Jn  2=^;  Gore, Bamp.  Led.  p.  147). 

7.  Self-assertion  and  Exclnsive  Claims.— His 
works  were  such  as  no  other  man  did  (Jn  15^), 
His  words  shall  outlast  hea^■en  and  earth  (Mt24^), 
men  will  be  judged  by  tlieir  relation  to  Him  (Mt 
n^  W-),  and  by  tlieir  belief  or  unbelief  on  Him 
(Mk  16'«,  Jn  6*  12**).  He  requires  the  for.saking 
of  everything  wliich  may  prove  a  hindrance  to 
following  Him  (Mt  8='  KF,  Mk  10=',  Lk  W-% 
Suffering  and  loss  incurred  for  His  Name's  sake 
will  be  rewarded  in  the  Regeneration  (Mt  19^  ||), 
even  now  those  who  suffer  for  His  sake  are  blessed 
(Mt  5'"').  He  claims  to  be  the  Light  of  tlie  world 
(Jn  8'-  95  12«),  the  Way,  the  Truth,  and  the  Life 
(Jn  14").  Eternal  life,  spiritual  strengtli,  and 
growth  can  come  only  from  union  with  Him  and 
feeding  on  Him  (Jn  5*°  &"■  10=«  15^-  '-  17=).  He  is 
the  Giver  of  rest  and  peace  (Mt  11^,  Jn  14-*').  And 
such  claims  are  endorsed  by  St.  John  (Jn  1',  1  Jn 
51=)  and  St.  Paul  (Ro  8>,  Ph  4",  1  Ti  1'^). 

ii.  Attributes  belonging  to  the  Union  of 
THE  TWO  Natures.— 1.  Mediation.— There  is  a 
twofold  Mediatorial  activity  ascribed  to  the  Son 
of  God  which  must  be  distingvdshed  ;  that  pre- 
sented in  the  revelation  of  tlie  Logos  (noceeiling 
from  God  all-crcatiiii,'  and  all-^ustaiiiiiiL!  ;  aii.l  tliat 
exhibited  in  tlie  work  ot  tlii>  ('hri~l,  liMclinu  li.-ick 
to  God  and  traii-t.,riMiii,u  tin'  r.lati..ii  ..I  <.,iiii.ivt 
into  one  of  uuiun,  tliat  Gud  may  lje  all  in  all.* 
Tlie  former  has  been  already  mentioned,  the  latter 
appears  in  passages  which  speak  of  Christ  as 
delivering  us  from  sin  and  Satan  (Jn  12^'-  ^-,  He 
2'^-  '*,  1  Jn  ?fi-  "),  as  obtaining  for  us  eternal  life 
(Jn  3'^'-  6^',  Ro  6=^  etc.),  as  procuring  the  gracious 
influence  of  the  Holy  Spirit  (Jn  U'"-  ^,  Ac  2^,  Tit 
3*-  '=  etc.),  conferring  Christian  graces  (1  Co  1"-,  Eph 
p.  J  etc.),  and  acting  as  our  representative  High 
Priest  (He  4'^  T-^'-  etc.).t  The  title  'Mediator' 
(AieffirTjs)  occurs  in  1  Ti  2\  He  8«  9'"  12". 


2.  SoYereignty.— One  object  of  Christ's  coming 
wiis  to  found  a  world-wide  Imperishable  society, 
called  tlie  Kingdom  of  Heaven  or  the  Kingdom  of 
God.  He  was  foretold  in  prophecy  as  King  (Zee 
9^  cf.  Mt  215).  He  Himself  spoke  of  His  Kingdom 
(Mt  13"  16-8,  Ljj  223")  and  accepted  the  title  from 
Pilate,  but  explained  that  it  was  '  not  of  this 
world '  (Jn  18^-  ^).  Satan  tempted  Him  to  ante- 
date it  by  a  short  but  sinful  method  (Mt  4"-  "). 
He  is  '  King  of  Kings  and  Lord  of  Lords '  (Rev  ig'", 
cf.  11'^). 


Dalnian  {WortJn  nf    Jems, 


133  f.) 


Aramaic  onjinal,  that  s.  t>,  ficur.  i^v  or  airsS  would  have  to 
be  rendered  '  when  I  am  King,'  etc.,  and  Lk  23-*2  '  as  King  ' ;  cf. 
Dn  62)  B'r-11  ni^Sn?  '  in  the  reign  of  Darius."    On  the  '  origi- 


3.  Consciousness  of  His  Mission  was  ever  pre.sent 
to  His  mind.  Frequently  He  uses  such  expressions 
as  '  tlie  Father  that  sent  me '  ( Jn  6"  8"^,  cf.  20='), 
'  Him  that  sent  me '  ( Ju  1^  12«  16=),  '  I  am  sent ' 
(Mt  15=^  Lk  4").  There  was  the  sense  of  purpose 
in  His  life,  '  To  this  end  am  I  come  into  the  world, 
that  I  should  bear  witness  unto  the  truth '  ( Jn  18^) ; 
it  is  implied  in  the  repeated  use  of  'must'  (Sci), 
implying  '  moral  obligation,  especially  that  con- 
straint which  arises  from  Divine  appointment ' 
(Grimm-Thayer,  see  Mk  83',  Lk  24«  TR,  Jn  3'* 
etc.);  and  cf.  Lk  9='  'He  steadfastly  set  (^ffT^pife) 
his  face  to  go  to  Jeru.salem.' 

i,  SinlessnesB. — While  He  had  the  most  perfect 
appreciation  of  sin  and  holiness,  while  He  pre- 
scribed repentance  and  conversion,  rebuking  all 
self-righteousness  and  pride,  He  was  absolutely 
without  any  consciousness  of  sin  or  need  of  re- 
pentance in  Himself.  He  claimed  to  be  free  from 
it  (Jn  14^) ;  He  challenged  examination  and  con- 
viction (Jn  8^") ;  He  could  say  at  the  end  :  '  I 
glorified  thee  on  the  earth,  having  accomplished 
the  work  which  thou  hast  given  me  to  do'  (Jn  17*, 
cf .  Jn  8="  19^,  Mt  3"  17= ;  and  as  to  His  best  disciples, 
Lk  17'").  The  truth  of  His  claim  was  testified  by 
His  forerunner  (Mt  S'''),  most  intimate  friends  (Jn 
1'*),  enemies  (Mk  14«'-),  judges  (Jn  18^,  Mt  27=* 
etc.,  Lk  23'=),  and  betrayer  (Mt  27*)— on  Mk  lO's 
see  the  Commentaries.  Christ's  moral  perfection 
is  recognized  everywhere  in  the  Epistles :  '  who 
knew  no  sin '  (2  Co  5=') ;  'who  did  no  sin,  neither 
was  guile  found  in  his  mouth'  (1  P  2==).  He  is 
holy  (07105,  Ac  3'*,  Rev  3'  ;  offios.  He  7=*),  righteous 
(5ka<os,  1  P  3i»,  1  Jn  '2'),  pure  (ayvis,  1  Jn  3^^),  guUe- 
less  and  undefiled  (oKa/cos,  aixiavros.  He  7=*)  ;  cf. 
He  4'=,  1  Jn  3=,  1  P  !'». 

5.  Glory.- St.  John,  summing  up  his  experience, 
writes :  '  We  beheld  his  glory,  glory  as  of  the 
only-begotten  from  the  Father '  ( Jn  l'*) ;  here  many 
find  a  reference  to  the  Shekinah  (note  iaKni/uia^v) 
and  interpret  56|a  as  the  '  totality  of  the  Divine 
attributes '  (cf .  Liddon,  £  £=  232) ;  others,  as  '  a  glory 
which  corresponded  with  His  filial  relation  to  the 
Father  even  when  He  had  laid  aside  His  divine 
glory '  ( Westcott).  Isaiah  in  his  vision  saw  His  glory 
(Jn  12*'),  it  was  manifested  in  His  '  signs '  (Jn  2"), 
and  at  the  Transfiguration  (2  P  1'').  In  .some 
sense  it  was  laid  aside  or  veiled  at  the  Incarnation 
(Jn  17=),  but  Christ  constantly  spoke  of  it  as  re- 
gained by  means  of  His  death  and  resurrection 
(Jn  12=3  1331  171.  6)_  cf.  Jn  12'«,  Ph  3=',  and  Rev  5^ 
('Worthy  is  the  Lamb  that  hatli  been  slain  to  receive 
the  iwwer  and  riches  .  .  .  and  glory  and  blessing '). 
He  >vill  come  hereafter  in  His  glory  as  Judge  (Alt 
25"),  cf.  Mt  19=«,  1  P  4" ;  and  in  Epp.  He  is  styled 
'  the  Lord  of  glory '  (1  Co  2',  Ja  2'). 

6.  Salvation. — His  mission  on  earth  was  '  to 
seek  and  to  save  that  which  was  lost '  (Lk  19'",  cf. 
9=^  Jn  3",  1  Ti  1'=),  it  was  implied  in  His  very 
name  (Mt  1=').  He  is  the  author  (apxijyb^,  He  2'"  ; 
airios,  S')  of  salvation.     Twice  only  is  the  full  title 


ATTRIBUTES  OF  CHRIST 


ATTRIBUTES  OF  CHRIST        141 


'  Saviour  of  the  world '  given  (.In  4''-,  1  Jn  4",  cf. 
1  Ti  4'"),  but  '  Saviour  '  is  found  frequently  (Lk  2", 
cf.  2^,  Ac  5''  13=',  Ph  3=»,  2  P  3^^  etc.).  In  this 
connexion  may  be  noted  the  power  of  forgiving 
sins  which  He  claimed  on  earth  as  Son  of  Man  ;  see 
His  words  to  the  man  sick  of  the  palsy,  with  the 
comment  of  the  bystanders  (Mt  9'-'-)i  and  to  the 
woman  who  was  a  sinner  (Lk  7'"'),  cf.  Ac  5"  10''^. 

7.  Judgment. — One  of  the  most  momentous  at- 
tributes is  the  power  of  judging  mankind,  involving 
complete  and  entire  knowledge  of  the  thoughts, 
actions,  and  circumstances  of  all  men  (of.  1  Co  4^). 
That  such  should  be  His  work  was  foretold  by 
John  the  Baptist  (Mt  3'=)  and  asserted  by  Himself 
(Mt  16='  25^'  etc.,  cf.  Rev  22'=).  It  is  committed  to 
Him  by  the  Father  (Jn  5--),  because  He  is  a  son  of 
man  (Jn  5"  RVm),  and  His  disciples  should  watch, 
making  supplication  that  they  may  prevail  ...  to 
stand  before  Him  (Lk  2P'^).  He  is  '  ordained  by 
God  to  be  the  judge  of  quick  and  dead '  (Ac  10*-, 
cf.  17^',  2  Ti  4'),  and  before  His  judgment-seat  we 
all  must  be  made  manifest  (2  Co  S'",  cf.  Ro  14"). 

8.  Sapreme  Power. — He  exercised  power  over 
natm-c  (Jn  2»,  Mt  8=«  14=5  21",  Mk  G^"-,  Lk  5«-). 
His  various  miracles  of  healing  showed  His  power 
over  disease.  Sometimes  the  cure  was  accom- 
panied by  His  touch  (Mt  S'-  "*  203^  Lk  22'>>) ;  some- 
times the  sufferer  touched  Him  (Mk  5=",  Lk  6'")  ; 
it  was  wrought  by  a  word  (Mt  12")  ;  or  by  visible 
and  tangible  means  (Jn  9^- ') ;  and  even  at  a  dis- 
tance (Mt  8'3,  Mk  7™,  Jn  45").  Three  instances  of 
power  over  death  are  recorded  (Mk  S*',  Lk  7'*, 
Jn  IV');  cf.  Mt  IP.  His  power  also  over  evil 
spirits  was  shown  in  many  cases  and  acknowledged 
by  them  (Mk  1=^  5',  Lk  i'^  etc.,  cf.  Ac  lO^*).  He 
was  the  One  stronger  than  the  strong  man,  Lk 
11==,  cf.  Mt  4i»-  ".  He  excited  astonishment  in  the 
people  (noted  chiefly  in  Mk.  and  Lk.).  It  was 
caused  by  His  teaching  (Mt  7'^  Mk  1==),  His 
words  of  grace  (Lk  4==,  cf.  Jn  7'°'  *),  and  the 
authority  with  which  He  spoke  (Lk  4'=) ;  in  these 
instances  eau/tdfcic  and  iKirKriaaeaOat.  are  used. 
The  effects  produced  by  His  miracles  are  ex- 
pressed by  similar  words  of  amazement— Sai//tti- 
ieiv  (Mt  15^1,  Mk  5=0,  Lk  11",  Jn  7=');  ^/cttX^- 
aeaOai  (Mk  7",  Lk  9«) ;  Sd/x^os  and  iKBaiM^eXcea, 
(Mk  9l^  Lk  i^) ;  iKsracL^  and  i^^raireM  (Mk  2'=, 
Lk  5=8  85«) ;  ^6^os  (Lk  5=«  V%  Among  the  disciples 
the  same  feelings  were  caused  :  '  tliey  were  sore 
amazed  in  themselves'  (\lav  O^laravTo,  Mk  6^'); 
'being  afraid  they  marvelled'  (^o/Sv/fl^c-res  iOavn- 
aaav,  Lk  8=^^) ;  '  they  were  amazed  (idaix^oSuTo)  and 
astonished  exceedingly '  [i^eirKiiaaavTo,  Mk  10=*-=")  ; 
'they  were  amazed  (^daix^oOvTo)  and  afraid'  (^0op- 
oOvTo)  on  the  last  journey  to  Jerusalem  (Mk  10'=). 

9.  Dignity.— An  attribute  commanding  respect 
and  reverence  is  closely  connected  with  the  above. 
The  Baptist  declared  Christ  to  be  immeasurably 
above  himself  (Jn  1=^),  while  Christ  described  him 
as  the  greatest  of  the  prophets  because  His  fore- 
runner (Mt  IP-'")  ;  the  disciples  'were  afraid  to 
ask  him '  (Mk  9'=,  cf .  Jn  4=') ;  those  who  came  to 
arrest  Him  fell  to  the  ground  (Jn  18^,  cf  lO'i'  RV), 
and  Pilate  was  the  more  afraid  hearing  His  claim 
to  be  the  Son  of  God  (Jn  19*) ;  note  His  silence 
(Mt  26«='-,  Mk  W;  Lk  23^).  Other  feelings,  how- 
ever, than  reverence  for  His  dignity  were  also 
excited,  e.g.  repulsion  in  the  demoniacs  (Lk  4'^) 
and  in  the  Gerasenes  (Mk  5") ;  wrath  (Lk  4=*) ; 
shame  in  His  adversaries,  joi/  in  the  multitude 
(Lk  13") ;  consciousness  of  unworthiness  in  the 
centurion  (Mt  8'),  and  of  sinfulness  in  Petei 
(Lk  5»). 

10.  Restraint  in  the  use  of  Power This  attri- 
bute is  strongly  marked.  Christ  never  used  His 
Divine  power  for  His  own  benefit  (Mt  4=')  nor  for 
destroying  life  (on  apparent  exceptions,  Mk  5>^, 
Mt  211",  see  Comm.}.     He  restrained  it  that  the 


Scriptures  might  be  fulfilled  (Mt  26"),  and  His 
exercise  of  it  was  often  limited  by  want  of  faith  on 
the  part  of  those  present  (Mt  13*). 

iii.  Attributes  BELONtiiNc;  to  Christ's  true 
Human  Nature. — Becoming  truly  man.  He  took 
ujion  Him  our  nature  as  the  Fall  had  left  it,  with 
its  limitations,  its  weaknesses,  and  its  ordinary 
feelings  so  far  as  they  ai'e  not  tainted  by  sin. 
He  partook  of  flesh  and  blood,  and  in  all  things 
was  made  like  unto  His  brethren  (He  2"-  ",  cf.  Ro 
8').  He  possessed  a  true  human  will,  but  ever 
subject  to  the  guidance  of  the  Divine  will  (Jn  6™, 
Mt2633) ;  a.  human  soul  (<pvxh,  Mt26^,  Jn  12=7)  and 
a  h%mian  spirit  (TifeO/m,  Mk  2^,  Lk  23^«,  Jn  11=3,  i  j. 
3'*);  He  was  representative  Man  (1  Co  15==);  all 
which  is  implied  in  '  the  Word  became  flesh '  (6 
Adyos  adpi  iyivero,  Jn  1'^).  The  Permanence  of  His 
Manhood  is  evident  since  He  was  recognized  after 
the  Resurrection  (cf.  Jn  20=')  and  ascended  with 
His  glorified  body  into  Heaven ;  there  He  inter- 
cedes as  our  High  Priest  (He  4"  etc. ),  and  will  one 
day  come  again  in  like  manner  as  He  was  seen  to 
go  into  heaven  (Ac  1"). 

1.  Limitation  of  Power  seems  to  be  implied  in 
the  Incarnation  ;  it  is  noted  especially  by  St  Mark, 
who  has  several  passages  expressing  inability  (ou 
Svvaaeai.,  Mk  P^  T*  and  6^  which  compare  with  Mt 
13=»). 

2.  Limitation  of  Knowledge  is  distinctly  asserted 
by  Jesus  Himself  on  one  point  (Mt  24*  RV,  Mk 
13==,  cf.  Ac  1',  He  lO'S).  In  His  childhood  He  grew, 
'  becoming  full  of  wisdom '  (irX-qpoiiJievov) ;  He  ad- 
vanced (vpoiKOTTTe)  in  wisdom  (Lk  2'"'-  ==) ;  the  story 
of  the  fig-tree  implies  that  He  expected  to  find 
fruit  (fjkeev  d  &pa  evprjirei.  n  iv  airrri,  Mk  11").  He 
prayed  as  if  the  future  were  not  clear  (Mt  26=*)  ; 
He  asked  questions  for  information  (Mt  9="*,  Mk  6=» 
8=3.  27  gsi^  Lk  8»»,  Jn  U*'),  cf.  Mk  11"- 

3.  Astonishment  and  Surprise.— In  two  cases 
only  is  Jesus  said  to  have  marvelled  ^eav^J.6.^(lv,  Mk 
e**,  Lk  7'),  but  surprise  is  ilnplied  at  His  parents 
(Lk  2-");  at  the  disciples'  slowness  of  faith  and 
understanding  (Mk  4'"'  7"*);  at  the  sleep  of  Simon 
(Mk  14=') ;  cf.  Mk  14=^  wliere  a  very  strong  word 
is  used  of  the  Agony  ((Kea/jL^e7a8ai,'  to  be  '  struck 
with  amazement'). 

4.  Need  of  Prayer  and  Communion  with  the 
Father  is  apparent  from  many  passages.  Some- 
times He  continued  all  night  in  prayer  (Lk  6'=). 
It  was  associated  with  great  events  in  His  life  (Lk 
3=1  6'=- 13  gi*-  =«,  Jn  12=' ;  Mt  263s'-||,  cf.  He  5') ;  it  is 
mentioned  after  days  of  busy  labour  (Mt  14=',  Mk 
1=5,  Lk  5i«).  He  offered  thanks  also  (Mt  11=*,  Jn 
IP').  Jesus  prayed  for  His  disciples  (Lk  22==, 
Jn  17),  and  taught  them  to  pray  (Mt  C",  Lk  IP), 
but  He  never  gathered  them  to  pray  with  Him. 
Compare  also  Mt  14'9  19",  Lk  IP  24=»  etc. 

5.  Temptation  was  a  reality  to  Jesus  (Mt  4i-"  ||), 
Satan  left  Him  only  for  a  season  (Lk  4'= ;  cf.  Lk 
22^=,  Jn  14=»).  It  came  also  from  Peter  (Mt  16=^) 
and  His  enemies  (Lk  1P=);  cf.  Lk  22=»  {i,-  tois 
Tupa.aiJ.oii  iiov) ;  He  was  '  in  all  points  tempted  like 
as  we  are,  yet  without  sin '  (x^/ais  afiapHas,  He  4"). 

6.  Suffering  came  from  such  temptation  (He 
2") ;  but  the  word  irdcxxuv  is  specially  used  of  the 
last  days  of  His  earthly  life.  Thus  the  prophecy 
of  the  Suftering  Servant  in  Isaiah  was  fulfilled 
(Mk  9'=,  Lk  24='^- '"' ;  cf.  d  TTa0r,rbs  6  Xpurris,  Ac  26==). 
Peter's  confession  at  Ciesarea  Philippi  marked  the 
time  when  Jesus  began  to  emphasize  this  side  of 
the  Messianic  prophecies  (Mt  16=',  cf.  Mt  4").  The 
only  absolute  use  of  the  word  in  the  Gospels  occurs 
in  Lk  22'5.  (See  'Sorrow'  below.)  By  suftering 
He  learned  the  moral  discipline  of  human  experi- 
ence. He  was  '  made  perfect '  and  '  learned  obedi- 
ence '  (He  2">  58- 8),  so  that  He  can  be  &pattern  and 
example  for  Christians  (1  P  2=',  1  Jn  2«  3»).  He 
exhibited /«i<A  (He  3=- »)  and  trust  (Jn  IP"-,  He  2'") 


142         ATTRIBUTES  OF  CHRIST 


ATTRIBUTES  OF  CHRIST 


in  the  highest  forms.  He  is  the  '  author  and  per- 
fecter  (ipxvyii!  nai  TeXetwriJs)  of  our  faith '  (He  12=), 
'the  perfect  example— perfect  in  realization  and 
etfect — of  that  faith  which  we  are  to  imitate  trust- 
ing in  Him '  ( Westcott).  Submission  and  Obedience 
He  showed  to  Mary  and  Joseph  also  (Lk  2^'),  and 
to  His  Heavenly  Father  (Mt  26*=) ;  cf.  Ro  5'9.  The 
purpose  of  His  life  was  summed  up  in  the  words 
'  to  do  thy  will,  O  God '  (He  10'). 

7.  Liability  to  Human  Infirmities. — Jesus  experi- 
enced hunrier  (Mt  4=  21'*,  cf.  Jn  4^') ;  thirst  (Jn  4' 
19^,  cf.  Mt  27")  ;  weariness  and  pain :  '  being 
wearied  {KeKowMKii^)  wth  His  journey  He  sat  thus 
(oOtus)  by  the  well'  (Jn  4«) ;  in  the  boat  He  'fell 
asleep'  {atpvirvuae,  Lk  8^);  in  the  Garden  there 
appeared  an  angel  strengthening  Hira  (im.axvuv, 
Lk  22^) ;  He  was  unable  to  carry  His  cross  (Mk 
15-'),  and  it  would  seem  that  He  Himself  required 
support  (cf.  (pipovdL  v.2=  ^>'ith  ^tdyowj  v.™) ;  cf.  2  Co 
13S  He  4'^  No  sickness  is  mentioned  (the  quot. 
in  Mt  8"  can  hardly  bear  this  meaning)  ;  He  truly 
died,  but  it  was  a  voluntary  death  ( Jn  10"-  "* ;  and 
note  that  in  no  Gospel  is  the  word  '  died '  used  of 
His  passing  from  life) ;  cf .  Ro  6'  '  death  hatli  no 
more  dominion  over  him '  (oiKin  KupiEi/ei),  and  Ac  2". 

8.  Sorrow.— The  prophecy  was  amply  fulfilled 
that  the  Messiah  should  be  '  a  man  of  sorrows  and 
acquainted  -wMh.  grief.'  Sorrow  was  inevitable  for 
one  who  had  such  insight  into  human  nature,  and 
so  sympathized  with  its  woes  (cf.  Jn  11^**).  It 
came  also  from  '  the  gainsaying'  (aiiTi.\oyla)Qi  sinners 
(He  12^  cf.  1  P  22"-).  One  of  the  greatest  causes 
of  grief  is  misunderstanding  of  motive  and  action, 
which  He  experienced  in  abundance.  On  one 
occasion  His  relatives  spoke  of  Him  as  'mad' 
(i^iarrj,  Mk  3-') ;  His  enemies  said  He  had  a  demon 
and  was  mad  (Jn  10-"),  and  ascribed  His  works  to 
Beelzebub  (Lk  11'°).  There  was  disappointment 
also  (Lk  13",  Jn  5*).  The  knowledge  of  what 
was  coming  cast  a  shadow  on  His  life  (Lk  12*",  Jn 
12"),  it  is  implied  in  the  description  of  the  last 
journey  to  Jerusalem  (Mk  1CF=) ;  at  the  Last 
Supper  He  was  troubled  in  spirit  {iTapdxffv,  Jn  13=') ; 
it  IS  clearly  expressed  in  the  accounts  of  tlie  Agony 
— Mt  26^  ijp^a.To  XinrftaSai  Kal  dBrj/iofcTv,  the  latter 
expressing  'utter  loneliness,  desertion,  and  desolate- 
ness'  (Edersheim);  Mk  14^  ijp^aro  iKeaix^e-uTdat.  Kal 
dSriiiove'iv ;  Lk  22"  yev6p.(voi  if  dyuvlif,  and  the 
Bloody  Sweat ;  His  soul  was  weplXviros  f  ms  Oai-dTou 
(Mt  '26^) ;  the  strong  word  dTre<7Trda$ri '  was  parted ' 
is  used  in  Lk  22^'  as  if  the  separation  itself  caused 
grief ;  and  the  sorrow  culminated  in  the  heart- 
broken cry  on  the  cross  (Mt  27*=).  Cf.  He  5' 
Hira.  Kpavyijs  Wxvpds  Kal  SaKpiav, 

9.  Joy. — It  would  be  a  great  mistake,  however, 
to  regard  His  whole  life  as  one  of  continuous  over- 
whelming sonow.*  Our  accounts  deal  almost 
entirely  with  the  last  three  vears,  and  surely 
there  must  have  been  much  real  happiness  in  the 
previous  thirty  years  spent  in  honest  work  amid 
the  beautiful  surroundings  of  Nazareth,  especially 
as  He  was  conscious  of  no  stain  of  guilt  or  failure 
in  duty,  and  felt  no  remorse.  Even  in  the  Gospels 
we  see  His  pure  appreciation  of  nature  and  of 
children's  games.  It  is  once  recorded  that  He 
rejoiced  in  spirit  (iiyaWLdaaTo,  Lk  10='),  and  several 
times  He  used  '  joy '  (xapi  and  xa'pu)  of  Himself 
(Jn  ll's  15"  17'^  cf.  Lk  15=- '»).  He  must  have  felt 
joy  in  communion  with  His  Father  (Mt  11==,  Jn 
ll'"),  and  in  the  consciousness  of  success  (Lk  10'", 
Jn  16^).  Complaisance  appears  in  His  praise  of 
the  centurion  (Mt  8'")  and  His  words  to  Simon 
(Mt  16") ;  cf.  Mt  21'«,  Lk  19*',  Jn  i'\  So  He  12= 
('for  the  joy  that  was  set  before  liim  he  endured 
the  cross ').     See  '  Sociability '  (22). 

10.  Humility  and  MeeknesB.— These  were  shown 
in  the  circumstances  of  His  childhood  (Lk  2=^-")  ; 

*  See  Brooks,  New  Starts  in  Life,  Sermon  on '  Joy  and  Sorrow.' 


during  His  ministry  He  was  homeless  (Mt  8="),  and 
.sometimes  without  money  (Mt  17=^,  cf.  Lk  8').  He 
describes  Himself  as  '  meek  and  lowly  of  heart ' 
(tt^jos  Kal  TaTiiwot,  Mt  11=') ;  cf.  Jn  1-',  2  Co  10'  (SA 
TTji  irpfiTjp-os  Kal  firieixeias  toS  Xpiarov).  'Though 
he  was  rich,  yet  for  your  sakes  he  became  poor' 
({wTu)xevae,  2  Co  8");  He  'emptied  him.self'  (iavrbv 
eKivuae,  Ph  2',  see  whole  passage).  His  life  was 
one  of  unselfish  ministry  to  others  (Mt  20^,  Jn 
13«-,  Lk  aS^'-  5' ;  cf.  23=»  and  the  first  three  '  Words 
on  the  Cross ').  He  '  pleased  not  himself  (Ro  15'), 
and  '  He  gave  himself  up  for  us '  (Eph  5=). 

11.  Patience  and  LongsntFering  are  seen  in 
Lk  9"  23",  Jn  18"-  =» ;  He  left  us  the  examiile  of 
His  patience  (IP  2="-=',  He  12'-=);  cf.  2  Th  S^* 
(Lightfoot's  Notes  on  Epp.  of  St.  Paul,  in  loc.)  and 
1  Ti  l'«. 

12.  Compassion. — His  compassion  ((nrKayxi''^i^<'9ai.) 
is  often  noticed  ;  it  led  Him  to  send  out  the  Twelve 
(Mt  9*5),  to  heal  the  sick  (Mt  14'*),  to  feed  the  4000 
(Mt  1532),  to  give  sight  to  the  blind  (Mt  20"),  to 
touch  the  leper  (Mk  1"),  to  teach  (Mk  6"),  and  to 
restore  the  widow's  son  (Lk  7'^).  Cf.  also  Lk  1'*, 
]\Ik  9==,  Ph  1*.  In  AV  '  compassion '  stands  also  for 
Afeii/  (Mk  5")  and  fierpioTraeeiv  (He  5=).  His  mercy 
is  appealed  to  {iXeai))  by  the  Canaanite  woman 
(Mt  15«=),  Bartima!us  (Mk  10*'),  and  the  ten  lepers 
(Lk  17'^).     He  is  a  High  Priest  wlio  can  be  '  touched 


ifirraities '  (He 


ith  the  feeling  {<rv/j.TradTj<Tai)  of  ( 
4'=) ;  cf.  Mt  8". 

13.  Tender  Thoughtfulness  appears  in  Mt  17' 
2S'»,  Mk  63'-  ^,  Jn  6'"  (RV)  18"  '20'8.  Cf.  the  story 
of  Jairus'  daughter,  Mk  5=s-  «•  "■  ^  (on  Mk  7="-,  see 
Comm.). 

14.  Pity. — In  the  story  of  the  man  with  the 
withered  hand  mingled  pity  and  anger  appear 
(o-u\Xwroi;/iei'os,  Mk  3°).  Twice  He  is  recorded  to 
have  sighed  (eo-T^rafe,  Mk  7" ;  di/aaTevd^as  rijj 
TTvctjixaTt,  8'=).  Twice  He  wept  for  others  {lK\av<rev, 
Lk  19";  iSdKpvae,',  Jn  11^;  cf.  He  5',  under 
'  Sorrow '  above).  He  was  accustomed  to  give  alms 
to  the  poor  (Jn  12=  13=»).     Cf.  Lk  13"  •22«'. 

15.  Love. — He  showed  His  afl'ection  for  little 
children,  taking  them  up  in  His  arms  (Mk  9^  10'", 
cf.  Mt  21'") ;  beholding  the  rich  young  ruler,  He 
loved  him  (ih'dirijirei',  Mk  10=') ;  He  called  the  dis- 
ciples His  friends  {<pl\oL,  Lk  12*,  Jn  15'*- "),  whom 
He  loved  {irydTnjirei')  unto  the  end  (Jn  13',  cf.  IS** 
15"-  '=).  Even  in  this  select  circle  there  was  one  of 
whom  it  was  specially  said  '  Jesus  loved  him ' 
(iJ7dira,  Jn  19="  21'- =» ;  44,l\u,  Jn  20=).  He  also 
loved  (^0IXei)  Lazarus  (Jn  11'-*'),  and,  ^vith  a  sig- 
nificant change  of  word  {riyd-ira,  Jn  IP),  Martha 
and  Mary.  There  are  many  reft',  in  Epp.  to  His 
love  for  His  people  and  the  Church  ;  cf.  Eph  5"'-'=, 
Ro  S>\  2  Co  5'*,  it  •  imssctli  knowledge'  (Eph  3'»), 
from  it  true  luvc  may  i.e  learned  (1  Jn  3'«  RV). 

16.  Courage  and  Firmness  appear  under  various 
circumstances  in  Mt  8=^  Mk  4*-*'  10^=,  Lk  4*,  Jn 
1 1"-  IS*'- 19".  His  independence  was  well  expressed 
by  His  questioners  (Mt  22'"). 

17.  Fear  in  any  unworthy  sense  (0ifjos)  is  not 
attributed  to  Him.  In  He  5'  it  is  said  that  He  was 
'  heard  for  His  godly  fear '  (fi>\d/3eia).  Westcott 
takes  the  word  m  'its  noblest  sense,'  so  Alford 
'  reverent  submission '  (see  note)  ;  but  Grimm- 
Thayer  prefers  to  render  as  '  fear,  anxiety,  dread ' ; 
'  by  using  this  more  select  word,  the  writer,  skilled 
as  he  was  in  the  Greek  tongue,  speaks  more  rever- 
ently of  the  Son  of  God  than  if  he  had  used  06/3os.' 
Caution,  however,  is  often  noted ;  cf.  His  with- 
drawals before  opposition  (Mk  3'  7",  Jn  7'  11"), 
also  Jn  6'=  and  the  directions  about  the  place  of 
the  Last  Supper  (Lk  22'"). 

18.  Desire  (iiri.0vii.la,  see  art.  Desire)  is  once 
used  of  Himself  (Lk  22"),  and  a  longing  for  sym- 
pathy  is  apparent  in  His  bringing  of  the  three  into 
the  Garden  and  His  returning  to  tliem  between 


ATTRIBUTES  OF  CHRIST 


AUGUSTUS 


His  prayers  (Mt  26™):  'in  niajjnis  tentationibuh 
juvat  solitudo,  sed  tamen  ut  in  propinquo  sint 
amici'  (Bengel). 

19.  That  he  felt  shame  at  hearing  a  foul  stor\ 
seems  a  fair  inference  from  Jn  8'*'-  (see  Ecce  Honm, 
ch.  ix.  end).  He  Himself  says,  'Whosoever  shall 
be  ashamed  of  me  and  of  my  words,  of  him  shall 
the  Son  of  Man  be  ashamed '  (^Tranrxi'i'^^ireToi,  Lk 
9=*) ;  cf.  He  12^ 

20.  Anger  and  Indignation  He  often  showed, 
though  Spyri  is  atlriliutrd  tu  Him  in  only  one 
passage  in  the  Gospels  (M  k  3'' ;  ef.  opyy  too  'Apvlov, 
Rev  6'").  He  was  '  moxeil  with  indignation '  at 
the  action  of  the  disciples  {-nyai/aKTriae,  Mk  10") ; 
possibly  this  should  also  be  the  translation  of 
ili^piimaeai  in  Jn  \]}^-'^  (RVm),  on  which  see 
notes  of  Westcott  and  Godet.  The  same  word 
is  rendered  'strictly  charge'  {'threateningly  to 
enjoin,'  Grimm-Thayer)  in  Mt  ^,  Mk  l**.  His  re- 
bukes (eirin/ia^)  are  noted  (Mt  8=^  Mk  !=»,  Lk  i^'->). 
Cf.  also  Mk  S*  11-',  Jn  2'=,  Mt  21".  Sometimes  he 
used  Irony  and  Sarcasm :  Lk  5",  Mk  7^  (koXCh 
deereiTe);  Lk  IS^^  ('that  fox');  Lk  16=M'andwas 
buried'  ['a  sublime  irony,'  Trench]).  Hypocrisy 
excited  His  deepest  abhorrence.  Cf.  the  Woes  on 
the  Scribes  and  Pharisees,  Mt  23'3''  il  ending  '  ye 
serpents,  ye  offspring  of  vipers' ;  also  Mt  12^ 

21.  Attractiveness  appears  in  the  readiness  of 
many  whom  He  called  to  forsake  all  and  follow 
Him.  The  common  people  'heard  him  gladly' 
(Mk  12",  cf.  Lk  19-'8,  Jn  12'») ;  publicans  and  out- 
casts were  drawn  to  the  '  friend  of  jjublicans  and 
sinners'  (Mk  2">,  Lk  7"  19^) ;  two  members  at  least 
of  the  Sanhedrin  became  His  disciples  (Jn  IQ^s-so) , 
and  He  foretold  how  |py  His  t'nicitixion  and  Resur- 
rection this  attractiveness  would  attain  universal 
sway  (Jn  12^=).    See  art.  Attraction. 

22.  Sociability. — In  this  respect  Jesus  presented 
a  marked  contrast  to  the  Baptist,  which  was  com- 
mented upon  (Lk7^'-^).  He  accepted  invitations 
from  Pharisees  (Lk  7^"  11"  14')  and  from  Publicans 
(Mt  9'»,  cf.  Lk  19=' ).  In  the  home  at  Betliany  He 
was  a  welcome  guest  (Lk  10*).  His  first  'sign' 
was  wrought  at  a  marriage  feast  (Jn  2'),  and  much 
of  His  parabolic  teaching  was  suggested  by  feasts 
and  the  incidents  of  ordinary  life ;  cf .  Mt  22^  25'- " 
Lk  1418  1912. 

23.  His  Catholicity  is  to  be  noted  finally. 
Though  a  Jew  on  the  human  side,  yet  He  rose 
entirely  above  all  merely  national  limits.  '  He 
can  be  equally  claimed  by  both  sexes,  by  all  classes, 
by  all  men  of  all  nations.'  *  Even  in  His  earthly 
ministry,  though  necessarily  confined  to  His  own 
nation  (Mt  15**),  His  sympathy  went  beyond  these 
bounds;  cf.  Mt  8='-  l'5--'-,  Lk  10™-  H'"*,  Jn  4=3-35 
IQio  123W-  «.  He  looked  forward  to  the  time  when 
'they  shall  come  from  the  east  r.nd  west,  and 
from  the  north  and  south '  (Lk  IS^") ;  cf.  Mk  13'" 
and  His  last  command,  Mt  28'".  So  each  race  of 
men  as  it  is  gathered  into  the  Church  finds  in  Him 
its  true  ideal. 

We  have  thus  {)resented  to  us  a  Person  in  whom 
Divine  power,  wisdom,  and  goodness  are  joined 
with  the  highest  and  holiest  type  of  manhood. 
The  portrait  is  'such  as  no  human  being  could 
have  invented  We  could  not  portray  such  an 

image  without  some  features  vhicli  would  betray 
theiroii^in  bein^  intioduted  bvui  liiinttd  eirm", 
sinful  mmiK  And  least  of  all  could  Jew  s  h  iv'e 

done  so  ,  foi  this  w  is  not  by  any  mems  the  ideal 
of  then  mindb  (Luthaidt,  Fundaiiu ntal  Ttutlis 
of  Chnitiantty,  295 f  ,  and  notes)  bee  also  artt 
on  Divinity  and  Hum\nit\  or  Christ,  and  on 
Names  and  Titles 

LiTEEATDEE  — Sandav  s  '  Jesus  Christ '  Ottl(>^  1 '  Incarnation 
and  other  articles  in  Hastin„'9   DB ,  Gore,  Bampton  Lectnres 
Liddon   Bampton  Lectureh  ,  Stalker,  Ilnago 


and  Dl 


'  See  Gore,  Bampton  Led  108  f 


\V  .  H.  Dundas. 

AUGUSTUS.— The  designation  usually  applied 
to  Caius  (Jctavius,  son  of  Caius  Octavius  and  Atia, 
grandson  of  Julia  the  sister  of  C.  Julius  Coesar, 
grand-ncpliew  (if  tin'  T)i<'t,itiir  aud  iiltiiiiately  his 
adopted  .son  uii.l  luii.  \\i-  \\:is  I1..111  2.3rd  Sept. 
B.C.  63,  not  far  liom  llip  ■  ll(,u-c'  ,,11  the  Palatine 
afterwards  built  till  him  ;  duil.-ucd  Kiiiperor  B.C.  29; 
honoured  with  the  title  of  '  Augustus '  B.C.  27  ;  died 
19th  Aug.  A.D.  14  at  Nola,  when  he  had  almost 
reached  the  age  of  77. 

If  we  take  B.C.  6  as  the  corrected  date  for  the 
birth  of  Jesus,  we  find  that  Augustus  was  then  in 
his  58th  year,  had  already  been  Emperor  23  years, 
and  had  before  him  20  more.  Though  his  reign 
thus  runs  parallel  with  the  Christian  era  for  20 
years,  there  is  but  a  single  allusion  to  him  in  the 
Gospel  history  (Lk  2').  In  the  NT  writings  there 
are  but  three  other  instances  of  the  use  of  the 
name  Augustus.  Of  these  one  only  (Ac  27')  can 
be  held  as  possibly  pointing  to  him,  the  other  two 
(Ac  25-'  and  25-')  mean  the  reigning  Ca;sar  (RV 
'  Emperor '),  in  both  cases  Nero.  Even  that  soli- 
tary allusion  to  Ca?sar  Augustus  might  have  had 
no  place  in  the  Gospel  record,  had  it  not  been  St. 
Luke's  aim  to  'trace  the  course  of  all  things 
accurately  from  the  first.'  In  '  drawing  up  his 
narrative '  he  makes  it  evident  that  Nazareth,  not 
Bethlehem,  was  the  home  of  Joseph  and  Mary,  and 
that  the  '  enrolment,'  originating  in  a  decree  of 
CiBsar  Augustus,  was  the  occasion  of  the  journey 
from  Nazareth  within  a  little  time  of  the  expected 
birth.  The  Syrian  governor  is  named  with  the 
view  of  fixing  the  date,  as  was  the  custom  in  those 
days.  Theophilus,  as  a  Roman  official,  would  have 
access  to  the  list  of  provincial  governors,  and  must 
have  at  once  understood  the  exact  period  meant. 
Thus  Augustus'  contact  with  Jesus,  so  far  as 
Scripture  deals  with  it,  begins  and  ends  with  Lk  2'. 

It  need  not  surprise  us  that  there  is  no  further 
reference  in  the  20  years  of  contemporaneous 
history  that  followed.  The  birth  of  Jesus  took 
place  in  a  remote  part  of  the  Empire  and  in  an 
insignificant  town  of  Judah.  The  first  30  years 
of  His  life,  with  the  exception  of  the  brief  sojourn 
in  Egypt,  were  spent  in  the  obscure,  even  despised, 
Nazareth.  Among  His  townsmen  He  was  known 
only  as  the  carpenter  (Mk  6^),  or  the  carpenter's 
son  (Mt  Ly=).  Though  the  arrival  of  the  wise  men 
from  the  East,  with  the  inquiry  as  to  the  birth 
of  'the  King  of  the  Jews,'  'troubled  Herod'  and 
'  all  Jerusalem  with  him '  (Mt  '2^),  the  commotion 
caused  by  their  advent  soon  passed  with  the 
tyrant's  death  in  B.C.  4.  Even  the  Massacre  of 
the  Innocents  '  from  two  years  old  and  under '  in 
Bethlehem  may  never  have  been  heard  of  in  the 
palace  of  Augustus,  or,  if  heard  of,  would  have 
made  very  little  impression,  owing  to  the  many 
acts  of  cruelty  that  had  marked  Herod's  reign. 
It  was  about  this  very  time  that  Augustus  is 
reported  to  have  said  that  it  was  '  better  to  be 
Heiod's  sow  than  his  son    (M  luuli    "^ituin   u  4) 

For  St   Luke    with  his  n   1  It ured  Greek 

wrwing  to  a  Roiiiaii  othi_i  I  1  to  gi\e  a 

distinct  place  in  his  re  ord  t  lli    census  as 


of  a  woiU  wide  enrolment 
later  rest  irf  h,  wq  can  add  tl 
duced  a  periodic  census  in 
chosen  lan^uaf^e  of  St   Luk 


AUGUSTUS 


AUGUSTUS 


up  from  Galilee  as  an  act  once  for  all  completed  (i»s^i!),  and  an 
enrolment  begun  and  having  a  continuance  (f^epiimo  xitTi; 
i!r»}./>«^ir««i).*  The  further  description  of  the  census  as  'the 
first'  accords  with  this,  not  the  first  under  Quirinius,  but  the  first 
of  a  series.  For  those  to  whom  St.  Luke  wrote  the  decree  was 
memorable  as  'the  first'  that  affected  the  Jews.  Other  enrol- 
ments may  have  taken  place  before  it  under  Augustus,  as  the 
review  by  the  Emperor  himself  in  the  celebrated  Monumentum 
Ancijranum  bears,  but  there  is  no  contradiction  between  that 
and  the  Evangelist's  testimony.  Three  distinct  censuses  are 
there  named  (in  B.C.  28,  B.C.  8,  and  in  a.d.  14).  Only  the  number 
of  Roman  citizens  is  gi\en  in  each  case,  as  all  others  might 
not  ha\t'  bL-eii  considered  worthy  of  being  mentioned  in  the 
Emperors  Memorials.  Important  light  has  recently  been 
thrown  on  the  system  of  enrolments  in  the  Roman  Empire 
through  t  lie  Labours  of  various  scholars  referred  to  by  Prof.  W.  M. 
Ramsay  in  his  volume  Was  Christ  bomat  Bethlehem?  Thetombs 
and  even  the  dust-heaps  of  Egypt  are  pro\ing  that  enrolments 
of  households  there  were  quite  common,  and  even  that  a  cycle 
of  14  years  was  observed.  Applying  this  cycle  to  the  period 
immediately  before  and  aft«r  the  Christian  era,  we  bring  out 
well-known  dates,  B.C.  8  and  a.d.  6,  the  former  marking  a 
Roman-citizen  census  taken  by  Augustus,  and  the  other  that 
of  the  'great  census,'  when  the  disturbances  took  place  in 
Palestine  which  were  quelled  by  Quirinius.  There  is  thus  a 
strong  presumption,  amounting  almost  to  proof,  that  B.C.  S  is 
the  most  likely  date  for  the  issue  of  the  decree  referred  to  in 
LfcS'.  The  delay  between  B.C.  8  and  B.C.  0,  so  as  to  have  it 
coincide  with  the  corrected  date  for  the  birth  of  Jesus,  may  be 
accounted  for  by  the  strained  relations  existing  about  the  time 
between  Augustus  and  Herod,  and  also  between  Herod  and  his 
subjects.  As  it  seems  to  have  been  the  first  enrolment  of  Jews 
under  the  Empire,  it  is  easy  to  conceive  that  tune  was  needed 
to  overcome  Jewish  scruples. 

The  real  difficulty,  however,  as  to  this  alleged  census  under 
Quirinius  lies  in  reconciling  St.  Luke's  testimony  with  the  facts 
of  secular  history.  The  Syrian  governors  in  the  period  of  B.C.  9-4 
are  given  by  Schiirer  as  C.  Sentius  Saturninus  (B.C.  9-6)  and 
P.  Quintilius  Varus(B.c.  6-4).  As  B.C.  4  is  the  generally  accepted 
year  of  Herod's  death,  the  possibility  of  a  governorship  of 
Quirinius  at  the  time  of  the  execution  of  the  decree  of  Ciesar 
Augustus  is  thereby  excluded.  Many  therefore  have  been 
ready  to  say,  with  Mommsen,  that  St.  Luke  has  *  erred.'  Even 
TertuUian  is  quoted  against  the  Evangelist,  when  he  affirms 
that  an  '  enrolment'  was  made  by  Sentius  Saturninus.  And  yet 
his  testimony,  while  it  differs  from  that  of  St.  Luke  as  to  the 
name  of  the  governor  of  Syria,  supports  none  the  less  the  fact 
that  there  was  a  census  earlier  than  the  famous  one  of  a,d.  6. 
The  evidence  in  favour  of  an  earlier  as  well  as  later  governor- 
Bhip  of  Quirinius  is  now  admitted  to  be  so  strong,  that  Mommsen 
and  others  have  fully  accepted  it.  The  only  question  that 
remains  is  as  to  where  we  are  to  place  it.  ImporUnt  help 
towards  the  solution  of  it  has  been  found  in  the  inscription 
discovered  at  Tivoli  in  1764,  now  preserved  in  the  Lateran 
Museum  of  Christian  Antiquities.  On  it  are  recorded  the  ex- 
ploits of  a  Roman  official,  with  the  honours  awarded  to  him  in 
the  time  of  Augustus,  ^\'liile  no  name  has  been  preserved,  we 
are  told  that  he  was  proconsul  in  Asia,  and  that  he  twice 
governed  Syria  and  Phcenicia.  The  only  one,  knou-n  to  us,  who 
satisfies  these  conditions  is  Quirinius.  Where  then,  in  the 
interval  immediately  before  the  birth  of  Jesus  in  B.C.  6  or  at 
latest  B.C.  5,  are  we  to  find  room  for  his  earlier  Syrian  governor- 
ship? It  must  be  between  Saturninus  and  Varus,  or  as  a  con- 
temporary of  the  one  or  the  other.  If  we  can  find  proofs  in 
history  of  a  double  'hegemony'  in  provincial  government,  we 
may  consider  that  only  there  can  the  solution  lie.  In  the 
history  of  Josephus  we  have  a  singular  confirmation  of  this  two- 
fold  governorship.  A  Volumnius  is  named  in  relation  to  Sentius 
Saturninus  as  'the  hegemon  of  Ciesar'  (Schurer,  IIJP  i.  i. 
p.  350).  Why  might  not  Quirinius  have  been  the  military 
governor,  while  Saturninus  was  the  civil  administrator?  In 
view  of  the  progress  of  discovery  in  recent  years,  may  we  not 
hope  that  some  additional  fragment  of  the  Tiburtine  inscription 
will  be  found,  and  definitely  settle  the  much  debated  question  as 
to  the  historical  accuracy  of  St.  Luke?    See  art.  Ce.ssus. 

Though  secular  history  from  B.C.  6  to  A.D.  14 
furnishes  us  with  no  trace  of  any  influence  having 
been  exerted  by  Augustus  on  Jesus  or  by  Jesus  on 
Augustus,  we  are  able  to  trace,  in  the  remarkable 
an  for  tlie 
manifest 

than  in  his  unification  of  the  Empire.  When 
Augustus  finally  defeated  Antony  at  Alexandria 
in  B.C.  31,  he  wa.s  the  one  ruler  left  in  the  whole 
Roman  world.  The  only  adverse  influence  with 
which  he  had  thereafter  to  contend  was  found 
among  the  heads  of  the  old  families  in  the  Roman 
Senate.  In  the  i  ourse  of  the  next  10  or  12  j-ears 
he  so  skilfully  guided  the  aftairs  of  the  State,  that 
he  was  clothed  with  every  attribute  of  supremacy 
which  it  seemed  possible  for  the  State  to  bestow. 

•  It  is  true,  indeed,  that  the  impepf.  may  point,  not  to  a 
repetition  of  the  census,  but  simply  to  the  fact  of  its  going  on 
for  some  time  (of.  Winer,  Gram,  o/  NT  Greek  [Eng.  tr.)9,  p.  335). 


The  title  of  '  Princeps  Senatus'  was  revived  in  B.C. 
29,  and  had  new  significance  given  to  it.  In  B.C.  27 
the  Senate  conferred  upon  him  the  proconsular 
iinperium  for  10  years.  This  put  into  his  hands  an 
all  but  absolute  military  power  throughout  the 
empire.  At  this  same  time  he  received  the  title  of 
'  Augustus,'  a  name  having  to  do  with  the  science 
of  augury  [or  from  augeo,  as  OH-gustus  from 
««(jro],  and  suggesting  something  akin  to  religious 
veneration.  Though  even  then  he  wished  him- 
self to  be  considered  as  having  a  primacy  only 
among  equals,  yet,  as  wielding  the  power  both  of 
purse  and  sword,  he  had  become  really  the  master 
of  the  Roman  world.  Nor  was  he  content  with 
this.  1hetribuniciapotcsfas-\va,s  granted  to  him 
in  a  sense  more  extended  than  ever  before.  While 
he  appeared  to  assume  it  year  by  year,  it  really 
became  his  for  life,  and  was  the  symbol  of  his 
sovereign  authority,  being  used  to  mark  the  years 
of  his  reign.  In  B.C.  23  the  whole  machinery  of 
the  State  had  definitely  and  permanently  passed 
into  his  hands.  When  the  Christian  era  dawned, 
Augustus  had  for  17  years  exercised  a  dominion  un- 
rivalled in  its  nature  and  extent,  entitling  it  to  be 
spoken  of  as  over  '  the  whole  world. '  And  yet  there 
was  no  one  in  his  day  that  felt  so  much  the  need 
of  limiting  the  extension  of  the  Kmpire.  Among 
his  last  instructions  there  was  one  enjoining  his 
successors  not  to  seek  enlargement,  as  it  only  made 
the  work  of  guarding  the  frontiers  more  difficult. 
One  of  his  greatest  anxieties  durin"  his  later  years, 
owing  to  the  deaths  of  Marcellus,  Agrippa,  Lucius, 
and  Gains,  had  to  do  with  the  succession  to  the 
Imperial  throne.  While  the  Christian  era  had 
not  yet  reached  its  first  decade,  he  had  only 
Tiberius,  his  step-son,  to  look  to  as  his  successor. 
At  an  early  period  of  his  reign  Augustus  had  given 
himself  to  the  development  of  a  complete  system 
of  road-supervision  for  Italy  and  the  provinces. 
The  celebrated  pillar  of  gilded  bronze,  the  '  Milli- 
arium  Aureum,'  of  which  but  a  fragment  of  the 
marble  base  can  be  seen  to-day  near  the  ascent  of 
the  Capitol,  was  set  up  by  Augustus  on  '  his  com- 
pletion of  the  great  survey  and  census  of  the 
Roman  world'  (Lanciani).  On  it  were  marked 
the  distances  of  all  the  principal  places  along  the 
main  roads  from  the  city  gates.  Where  these 
roads  led,  civil  government  was  found  established, 
with  a  representative  of  the  Emperor  or  the  Senate, 
and  with  tribunals  for  the  administration  of  justice. 
Anyone  claiming  to  be  a  Roman  citizen  had  the 
privilege  of  appeal  ti>  ( 'asar,  and  could  be  assured 
of  a  safe  conduct  tn  iiiuiie.  Safe  and  compara- 
tively speedy  modes  uf  tia\el  were  assured. 

Our  knowledge  ol  the  government  of  the  provinces  under 
Augustus  is  too  limited  to  admit  of  any  clear  ana  full  description 
of  it.  Suetonius  (Auf/ust.  47)  has  given  us  the  principles 
on  which  he  acted  in  dividing  the  provinces  between  himself 
and  the  Senate,  in  these  words;  "The  provinces  which  could 
neither  be  easily  nor  safely  governed  by  annual  magistrates  he 
undertook  himself.'  In  other  words,  those  that  required  a 
strong  force  to  hold  them  in  subjection,  or  whose  frontiers  were 
exposed  to  attack  on  the  part  of  restless  and  powerful  enemies, 
he  retained  in  his  own  hands.    The  other'^.  which  could  be  easily 


landed  over  to  the 
hands  almost  the  %\ 
Emperor's  legates,  C' 
only  appointed  by  hi 


speiH 


val  of 


The  provinces  were  divided  into  groups  according 
they  were  administered  by  consuls,  prsetors,  or  simply 
knighu.  Even  those  that  appeared  to  be  entirely  under  the 
control  of  the  Senate  were  restricted  in  their  appointments  by 
the  Emperor,  as  the  list  of  those  eligible  had  to  be  submitted  t 
him,  and  all  on  the  list  must  have  served,  witl 
five  years,  as  consuls  or  pnetors.  In  the  case  of  Syria  we  find 
an  Imperial  province  exposed  to  inroads  from  warlike  peoples 
on  its  Northern  and  Eastern  borders,  and  therefore  in  need  of  a 
military  more  than  a  civil  commander  over  it  to  act  as  its 
hegemoii.  The  term  answers  best  to  our  Viceroy.  This  was  the 
position  which  Quirinius  probably  held,  and  he  would  have 
power  from  Augustus  to  allow  in  Herod's  dominions  a  census 
that  would  as  little  as  possible  offend  Jewish  prejudices. 
Each  set  of  provinces  bad  its  own  separate  treasury.    The 


AUGUSTUS 


AUGUSTUS 


145 


1  flowed  into  the  Emperc 


highways  for 
Christianity.     To  the  Senate,  Augustus  granted  the  right  of 


the  great  military  roads,  which  became  the  highways  for 
ug 
lintinp  copper  only,  reserving  gold  and  silver  for  the  Imperial 


care  on  the  selection  of  his  legates,  closely  watched  over  their 
administration,  and  made  it  all  hut  impossible  for  a  corrupt 
gfovernor  to  escape  swift  punishment.  To  this  in  great  measure 
the  Empire  owed  its  popularity  in  Augustus'  time. 

There  -was  another  remarkable  preparation  for 
the  \\orld-census  in  the  ordnance  survey  initiated 
by  Julius  Caesar,  and  completed  only  after  25  years 
of  labour  on  the  part  of  four  of  the  greatest  sur- 
veyors of  the  age.  The  main  object  of  it,  no 
doubt,  was  the  taxation  of  land,  the  most  profit- 
able source  of  revenue  under  the  Empire.  Thus  a 
completely  organized  and  a  world-wide  Empire,  in 
absolute  dependence  upon  its  supreme  ruler  in 
Eome,  had  become  an  accomplished  fact  ere  tlie 
Christian  era  had  dawned. 

As  this  new  era  approached,  signs  were  multi- 
plying of  a  desire  for  peace  on  the  part  of  ruler 
and  ruled,  though  it  is  scircely  true  that  the  actual 
year  of  the  birth  at  Bethlehem  was  distinguished 
by  the  prevalence  of  universal  peace.  To  the  im- 
mediately preceding  period,  B.C.  13-9,  belongs  the 
famous  '  Altar  of  Peace,'  whose  actual  site  has 
been  laid  bare  within  very  recent  years  (1903- 
1904)  imder  the  Via  in  Lucina,  a  little  way  oil 
from  the  Corso,  the  old  Flaminian  Way.  The 
very  same  year  in  which  Augustus  became  Ponti- 
fe.\  Maximus  owing  to  the  death  of  liis  former 
co-triumvir  Lepidus,  the  Senate  decreed  the  erec- 
tion of  an  'Altar  of  Peace,' which  at  iirst  was  to 
have  been  set  up  in  the  Senate-house,  but  was 


to  which  it  belongs  was  the  closing  of  the  temple 
of  Janus.  Horace,  writing  in  B.C.  13  {Epp.  II.  i. 
255  and  Odes  IV.  xv.  9),  speaks  of  the  closing  as  a 
recent  occurrence.  Twice  before  in  the  reign  of 
Augustus,  in  B.C.  29  and  B.C.  25,  this  temple  had 
been  closed  (jl/oH.  Am:.  13),  '  when  peace  throughout 

and  sea  li.-ul  1 n  iilil:ii I  l.y  i  iriui  i.'^/  .-iihl'  ■oiilv 

twice  bi'l..r.'  his  liiilh  ,-iiii'i'  I  lir  luuiul.il  lun  of  the 
city,'  in  all  five  times  iii,  lu  tlic  Clirislinii  era. 
The  Gades  (Cadiz)  inscription  is  a  remarkable 
confirmation  of  B.C.  13  as  the  date  of  the  third 
closing  of  the  temple  of  Janus  in  Augustus'  time. 


;  entitled  the  '  .\  r  I  lul-  NuLH-ti  '  is  of  unusual 
proportionaandof  exquisitt  «' I    •  i.  i:  inn  the  walls  of 

a  massive  marble  screen  thiiv  ■  ;  ,  i  ;  ilin-  on  an  ele- 
vated base,  pyramidal,  and  li;r,:  ,_  ,.  hafling  up  to 
it.  The  screen  was  spleudi.lli  ,h.,,iiii-l  li'.lli  within  and 
without  with  sculptures  in  liii;li  rtliif.  Tin-  .jutcr  side  of  the 
screen  had  two  distinct  bands  of  ornament.ation  :  the  lower 
floral,_the  upper  a  procession  with  figures,  many  of  which  might 


The  altar  was  a  splendid  tribute  to  Peace,  but  it 
was  a  peace  after  many  and  bloody  victories,  re- 
minding us  of  the  saying,  '  where  they  make  a 
desert  they  call  it  peace '  (Tac.  Agricola,  30),  and  it 
was  also  a  peace  that  was  not  to  last.  Yet  there 
the  altar  stood  on  the  field  of  Mars,  as  the  reign  of 
the  '  Prince  of  Peace '  was  ushered  in,  and  became 
for  ages  thereafter  a  witness  to  the  Pax  Romana  of 
the  Augustan  age.  Far  more  of  it  remains  to  the 
present  time  than  of  the  triple  arch  of  Augustus 
set  up  in  celebration  of  his  victories,  of  which 
only  the  bare  foundations  can  be  seen  between  the 
temple  of  Julius  and  tliat  of  Castor  and  Pollux. 

The  energies  of  Augustus  found  scope  for  them- 
selves in  other  lines,  and  all  with  the  object  of 
building  up  his  world-wide  Empire  that  he  meant 
to  last  in  the  ages  to  come.  At  the  beginning  of 
vol..  I. — lo 


his  reign  he  put  his  hand  to  the  restoration  of  the 
State  religion.  In  B.C.  28  he  claims  to  have  're- 
paired 82  temples  of  the  gods'  (Mon.  Anc.  20), 
earning  for  himself  the  title  given  him  by  Livy 
{Hist.  IV.  XX.  7),  'the  builder  or  restorer  of  all 
the  temples.'  The  sacred  images,  we  are  told, 
had  become  actually  '  foul  with  smoke '  or  were 
'mouldering  with  mildew.'  The  ancestral  reli- 
gion was  (lenrl,  belief  in  the  gods  had  all  but  dis- 
appoareil.  Nor  «;is  it  only  the  repair  of  edifices 
for  reliiiimis  \\.irslii|i  tliat  he  took  in  hand;  from 
him  the  siiereii  culleges  .and  brotherhoods  received 
,a  new  impulse  liy  liis  becoming  a  member  himself 
of  one  and  all  of  them.  Through  him  their  en- 
dowments were  greatly  increased.  With  great  cere- 
mony was  observed  the  centenary  of  the  city,  for 
which  Horace  prepared  his  well-known  ode,  as  the 
inscription  found  in  the  Tiber  in  1871  so  strikingly 
confirms  ('carmen  composuit  Q.  Horatius  Flac- 
cus').  Tlie  worship  of  the  Lares  was  restored. 
At  crossways  and  street  corners  three  hundred 
small  shrines  were  set  up,  whose  altars  were 
.adorned  twice  a  year  with  flowers.  One  of  the 
latest  discoveries  is  that  of  a  shrine  of  the  Lares 
Publici  in  front  of  the  Arch  of  Titus,  on  the 
branch  of  the  Via  Sacra  leading  up  to  the  Pala- 
tine by  the  old  Mugonian  Gate.  New  temples 
were  erected,  the  most  notable  being  that  of 
Apollo  behind  his  own  'Domus.'  A  new  spirit 
also  was  infused  into  the  rites  and  ceremonies  of 
the  old  worship,  to  which  the  writings  of  Virgil 
contributed  in  a  special  degree. 

The  hardest  task  yet  remained  in  the  social  and 
moral  reformation  of  his  people.  As  early  as 
B.C.  25  we  find  Horace  (Od.  III.  vi.),  in  this  reflect- 
ing probably  tlie  opinion  of  his  master,  afhrniing 
the  necessity  of  'a  reformation  of  morals  as  ^yell  as 
a  restoration  of  temples  and  a  revival  of  religion.' 
In  a  later  ode  (xxiv.)  he  promises  immortality  to 
the  statesman  who  shall  bring  back  the  morality 
of  the  olden  time.  The  action  taken  by  Augustus 
about  that  time  was  effective,  temporarily  at  least, 
for  his  praises  were  celebrated  as  '  one  who  by  his 
presence  had  cleansed  the  family  from  its  foul 
stains,  had  curbed  the  licence  of  the  age,  and 
recalled  the  old  morality.'  The  text  of  his  laws 
enacted  for  this  purpose  has  not  come  down  to 
us,  but  their  date  may  be  taken  as  from  B.C.  18  to 
17,  or  about  12  years  before  the  Christian  era. 
His  own  example,  unfortunately,  did  not  enable 
him  to  take  u]i  a  very  high  position  on  the  subject 
of  mani^iui',     lie  li;ii'l  put  away  Scribonia  in  order 

to  iii.-inv  l.ivin,  \\\ 1  he  took  from  her  husband 

Tiberius  Nen..  A^aiii  and  again  he  interposed  to 
dissolve  existing  UKuriages,  when  his  policy  as  to 
the  succession  required  it.  High  motives,  there- 
fore, we  do  not  expect  to  find  in  his  legislation  on 
marriage.  Nothing  could  have  brought  out  more 
clearly  the  impotence  of  such  legislation  than  the 
openly  scandahnis  character  of  his  daughter  Julia. 
In  B.C.  2,  the  very  year  when  he  was  hailed  by  the 
Senate  as  the  father  of  his  country,  he  became 
aware  of  what  had  long  been  in  everyone's  know- 
ledge. So  keenly  did  he  feel  the  scandal  that  he 
shunned  society  for  a  time,  and  even  absented 
himself  from  the  city.  His  only  remedy  was  her 
banishment  to  Pandataria.  Never  afterwards  was 
she  allowed  to  set  foot  in  Rome.  Nor  did  she  see 
again  the  face  of  her  father,  whom  she  outlived 
only  by  a  few  short  weeks.  There  were  not 
wanting  schools  of  philosophy  that  vied  with  each 
other  in  leading  men  to  virtue.  Greek  phUosophers 
of  note  were  welcomed  to  the  halls  of  the  '  Domus 
Augusti.'  But  no  system  of  morals  or  philosophy 
had  yet  appeared  that  could  show  the  way  of 
attaining  to  the  Divine  likeness  by  the  bestowal 
of  a  new  nature,  until  Christianity  came  upon  the 
scene. 


146 


AUGUSTUS 


AUTHORITY  OF  CHEIST 


The  same  moulding  hand  that  built  >ip  the 
Empire  can  be  traced  in  the  modification  through 
which  C»sar  -  worship  passed  under  Augustus. 
The  deification  of  Julius  by  the  Senate  in  B.C.  42 
was  only  what  was  to  be  expected.  The  decree 
ran :  '  To  the  Genius  of  the  divine  Julius,  father 
of  his  country,  whom  the  Senate  and  Roman 
people  placed  among  the  number  of  the  gods.' 
In  the  very  heart  of  the  Roman  Forum,  from 
B.C.  29,  there  was  to  be  seen,  on  an  elevated  plat- 
form, a  most  beautiful  marble  temple  proclaiming 
the  deification  of  the  great  Juhus.  Augustus 
never  allowed  such  worship  of  himself  during  his 
lifetime  as  had  been  tlie  case  with  Julius.  From 
the  earliest  period  of  his  reign  there  is  evidence 
that  he  allowed  it  in  the  provinces,  but  only  in 
conjunction  with  '  Rome,'  and  the  formula  en- 
joined for  all  that  were  not  Roman  citizens  was 
'  Rome  and  Augustus.'  In  the  case  of  citizens  the 
one  name  allowed,  along  with  Rome,  was  that  of 
•the  divine  Julius.'  For  his  Roman  subjects  he 
would  be  neither  'rex'  nor  'divus,'  but  outside 
the  favoured  circle  of  Roman  citizenship  he  had 
less  scruple  in  receiving  for  himself  a  share  of 
divine  honour,  believing  that  it  formed  the  binding 
link  that  was  needed  to  knit  all  the  parts  of  his 
wide  Empire  into  one  great  unity. 


•State,  personified  in  its  ruler.'  Certainly  that  might  have 
admirably  served  to  establish  his  State  policy,  and  make  liim 
believe  that  he  had  accomplished  all  that  human  ingeimity 
could  to  make  his  Empire  as  enduring  as  it  was  world-wide. 

On  his  death  in  A.D.  14  a  modification  necessarily 
came,  when  the  Senate  decreed  that  thereafter  lie 
should  be  known  as  'Divus  Augustus.' 

The  priesthood  of  this  Imperial  '  cult '  was  di- 
vided into  two  classes,  the  one  representing  the 
State  religion  in  a  province,  and  the  other  liaving 
charge  of  religious  ceremonies  in  the  cities.  The 
provincial  priests  ^^cre  responsible  only  to  the  Em- 
peror a-  roiititi'x  Maximus,  and  had,  in  the  West 
at  lea^t.  jiiri~ili<li(iii  over  the  municipal  priests. 
The  way  was  tlius  [.rcpared  for  the  development  of 
a  full  hierarchical  system,  which  became  afterwards 
the  model  for  the  Roman  Church,  with  its  Pontifex 
Maximus  in  Rome,  its  Metropolitans  in  each  pro- 
vince, and  the  municipal  priests  in  the  cities.  The 
'cult'  itself  spread  with  great  rapidity,  was  bind- 
ing on  every  Roman  subject  with  the  exception  of 
the  Jews  only,  and  prepared  the  way  for  the  appli- 
cation of  the  prime  test  for  the  Cliristians  of  the 
early  ages:  'Sacrifice  to  the  Emperor  or  death.' 
The  man  of  all  others,  who  created  the  conditions 
in  which  Christianity  was  to  find  that  supreme 
test,  was  Augustus.  The  Universal  Empire,  with 
its  ruler  as  an  object  of  worship,  had  not  long  be- 
come an  accomplished  fact  when  the  God-man,  in 
contrast  with  the  man-god,  appeared, — '  the  Word 
became  flesh  and  dwelt  among  us.'  No  contrast 
could  well  be  greater  than  that  which  distinguished 
(in  B.C.  6-A.D.  14)  this  world-ruler  from  the  Founder 
of  Christianity : — Augustus,  a  perfect  master  in 
State-craft,  merciful  to  his  foes  only  when  he  had 
made  his  position  absolutely  sure,  only  somewhat 
more  advanced  in  his  morality  tlian  the  men  of  his 
age,  full  of  self-esteem,  as  the  last  scene  of  his  life 
reveals,  yet  entitled  to  be  considered  by  the  world 
in  which  he  lived  as  its  'chief  benefactor'  (Lk  22*) ; 
Jesus,  though  in  His  twelfth  year  able  to  claim  a 
relationship  with  the  Father  in  heaven  such  as 
distinguishes  Him  from  eveiy  other  son  of  man, 
yet  remaining  for  those  20  years  of  His  life  at 
Nazareth  as  the  carpenter's  son,  all  unknown  to 
the  great  world  without,  subject  to  His  reputed 


father  and  His  ' highly  favoured '  mother,  'advanc- 
ing in  wisdom'  as  in  stature,  and  above  all  'in 
favour  with  God  and  man.'  Of  the  whole  of 
Augustus'  work  there  now  remains  little  but  crum- 
bling or  half-buried  ruins,  but  the  name  of  Jesus 
'endures,'  and  gives  evidence  of  the  truth  of  the 
prophecy  which  points  to  the  world's  kingdom  as 
becoming  His,  and  His  reign  as  being  'for  ever 
and  ever'  (Rev  ll'^). 


\tory  of  Ji< 
•;  \V.  M. 

\irch  in  the  /;.., 


J.  GoKDON  Gray. 

AUTHORITY  OF  CHRIST.-The  first  recorded 
comment  on  the  teaching  of  Jesus  is  that  of 
Mtr-"-  (ilMk  1~,  Lk43=):  'They  were  astonished 
at  liis  teaching,  for  he  taught  them  as  one  having 
authority,  and  not  as  their  scribes.'  The  scribes 
said  nothing  of  themselves :  they  appealed  in 
every  utterance  to  tradition  (TrapiSoan) ;  the  mes- 
sage they  delivered  was  not  self-authenticating  ;  it 
had  not  the  moral  weight  of  the  speaker's  person- 
ality behind  it ;  it  was  a  deduction  or  application 
of  some  legal  maxim  connected  with  a  respectable 
name.  They  claimed  authority,  of  course,  but 
men  had  no  immediate  and  irresistible  conscious- 
ness that  the  claim  was  just.  With  Jesus  it  was 
the  opposite.  He  appealed  to  no  tradition,  shel- 
tered Himself  behind  no  venerable  name,  claimed 
no  official  status  ;  but  those  who  heard  Him  could 
not  escape  the  consciousness  that  His  word  was 
with  authority  (Lk  4'-).  He  spoke  a  final  truth, 
laid  down  an  ultimate  law. 

In  one  respect,  He  continued,  in  so  doing,  the 
work  and  power  of  the  prophets.  There  was  a 
succession  of  prophets  in  Israel,  but  not  a  pro- 
phetic tradition.  It  was  a  mark  of  degeneration 
and  of  insincerity  when  self-styled  jirophets  re- 
peated each  other,  stealing  God's  words  every  one 
from  his  neighbour  (Jer  23'°).  The  true  prophet 
may  have  his  mind  nourished  on  earlier  insjiired 
utterances,  but  his  own  message  must  spring  from 
an  immediate  prompting  of  God.  It  is  only  when 
his  message  is  of  this  kind  that  his  word  is  w  ith 
power.  No  mind  was  ever  more  full  than  the 
mind  of  Jesus  of  all  that  God  had  spoken  in'the  past, 
but  no  one  was  ever  so  spontaneous  as  He,  so  free 
from  mere  reminiscence,  so  completely  determined 
in  His  utterance  by  the  conditions  to  which  it 
was  addressed.  It  is  necessary  to  keep  both  things 
in  view  in  considering  His  authority  as  a  teacher. 
Abstract  formula-  about  the  seat  of  authority  in 
religion  are  not  of  much  service  in  this  connexion. 
It  is,  of  course,  always  true  to  say  that  truth  and 
the  mind  are  made  for  each  other,  and  that  the 
mind  recognizes  the  authority  of  truth  because  in 
truth  it  meets  its  counterijart,  that  which  enables 
it  to  realize  its  proper  being.  It  is  always  correct, 
also,  to  apply  this  in  the  region  of  morals  and 
religion,  and  to  say  that  the  words  of  Jesus  and 
the  prophets  are  authoritative  because  our  moral 
personality  instinctively  responds  to  them.  We 
have  no  clioice,  as  beings  made  for  morality  and 
religion,  to  do  anything  but  bow  before  them. 
The  difficulty  is  that  the  '  mind,'  or  '  conscience,' 
or  '  moral  personality,'  on  which  our  recognition  of 
the  truth  and  authority  of  Jesus'  teaching  is  here 
made  dependent,  is  not  a  fixed  quantity,  and  still 
less  a  ready-made  faculty  ;  it  is  rather  a  possibility 
or  potentiality  in  our  nature,  which  needs  to  be 
evoked  into  actual  existence ;  and  among  the 
powers  which  are  to  evoke  it  and  make  it  actual 
and  valuable,  by  far  the  most  important  is  that 


AUTHORITY  OF  CHEIST 


AUTHORITY  OF  CHRIST         147 


teaching  of  Jesus  which  it  is  in  some  sense  allowed 
to  judge.  We  may  say  in  Coleridge's  phrase  that 
we  believe  the  teaching  of  Jesus,  or  acknowledge 
its  (or  His)  authority,  because  it  '  finds '  us  more 
deeply  tlian  anything  else  ;  but  any  Christian  will 
admit  that  '  find '  is  an  inadequate  expression. 
The  teaching  of  Jesus  does  not  simply  find,  it 
evokes  or  creates  the  personality  by  which  it  is 
acknowledged.  We  are  born  again  by  the  words 
of  eternal  life  which  come  from  His  lips,  and  it  is 
the  new  man  so  born  to  whom  His  word  is  known 
in  all  its  power.  There  is  a  real  analogy  between 
this  truth  and  the  familiar  phenomenon  that  a 
new  poet  or  artist  has  to  create  the  taste  which  is 
necessary  for  the  appreciation  of  his  work.  Dis- 
missing, therefore,  the  abstract  and  general  con- 
sideration of  the  idea  of  authority  in  religion  (see 
next  art.),  our  course  must  be  (1)  to  examine  the 
actual  exercise  of  authority  by  Jesus  in  the 
Gospels,  referring  especially  to  occasions  on  which 
His  authority  was  challenged,  or  on  which  He  gave 
hints  as  to  the  conditions  on  which  alone  it  could 
be  recognized  ;  (2)  by  way  of  supplement  we  can 
consider  the  authority  of  the  exalted  Christ  as  it 
is  asserted  in  the  Epistles  and  exercised  in  the 
Church  through  the  NT  as  a  whole. 

1.  The  exercise  of  authority  hij  Jesus  on  earth. — 
(a)  The  simplest  but  most  far-reaching  form  in 
which  Jesus  exercised  authority  was  the  practical 
one.  He  claimed  other  men,  otlier  moral  person- 
alities, for  Himself  and  His  work,  and  required 
their  unconditional  renunciation  of  all  otlier  ties 
and  interests  that  they  might  become  His  dis- 
ciples. He  said,  '  Follow  me,'  and  they  rose,  and 
left  all  and  followed  Him  (Mt  i'^^-^-  9").  He  made 
this  kind  of  claim  because  He  identified  Himself 
with  the  gospel  (Mk  8*^  10'-")  or  witli  the  cause  of 
God  and  His  Kingdom  in  the  world,  and  for  this 
cause  no  sacrifice  could  be  too  great,  no  devotion 
too  profound.  '  He  that  loveth  father  or  mother 
more  than  me  is  not  worthy  of  me.  He  that 
loveth  son  or  daughter  more  than  me  is  not 
worthy  of  me.  Wliosoever  he  be  of  you  that 
renounceth  not  all  that  he  hath,  he  cannot  be  my 
disciple '  (Mt  10^',  Lk  14^).  Nothing  is  less  like 
Jesus  than  to  do  violence  to  anyone's  liberty,  or  to 
invade  the  sacredness  of  conscience  and  of  personal 
responsibility ;  but  the  broad  fact  is  unquestion- 
able, that  without  coercing  others  Jesus  dominated 
them,  without  breaking  their  wills  He  imposed 
His  own  will  upon  them,  and  became  for  them  a 
supreme  moral  authority  to  which  they  submitted 
absolutely,  and  by  which  they  were  inspired.  His 
authority  was  unconditionally  acknowledged  be- 
cause men  in  His  presence  were  conscious  of  His 
moral  ascendency,  of  His  own  devotion  to  and 
identification  with  what  they  could  not  but  feel  to 
be  the  supreme  good.  We  cannot  explain  this 
kind  of  moral  or  practical  authority  further  than 
by  saying  that  it  is  one  witli  the  authority  which 
the  right  and  the  good  exercise  over  all  moral 
beings. 

Not  that  Jesus  was  able  in  every  case  to  carry 
His  own  will  through  in  the  wills  of  other  men. 
Moral  ascendency  has  to  be  exercised  under  moral 
conditions,  and  it  is  always  possible,  even  for  one 
who  acknowledges  its  right,  to  fail  to  give  it 
practical  recognition  by  obedience.  When  Jesus 
said  to  the  rich  ruler,  '  Sell  all  that  thou  hast,  and 

five  to  the  poor,  and  thou  shalt  have  treasure  in 
eaven  :  and  come,  follow  me  '  (Mk  10=^,  He  failed 
to  win  the  will  of  one  who  nevertheless  was  con- 
scious that  in  refusing  obedience  he  chose  the 
worse  part.  '  He  went  away  sorrowful '  —  his 
sorrow  implying  that  it  was  within  the  right  on 
the  part  ot  Jesus  to  put  Iiim  to  this  tremendous 
test.  He  acknowledges  by  his  sorrow  that  he 
would  have  been  a  better   man— in  the  sense  of 


the  gospel  a  perfect  man— if  he  had  allowed  the 
authority  of  Jesus  to  have  its  perfect  work  in  him. 
These  are  the  facts  of  the  case,  and  they  are 
ignored  by  those  who  argue  that  it  is  no  man's  busi- 
ness  to  part  with  all  he  has  for  the  sake  of  the 
poor  ;  tliat  property  is  a  trust  which  we  have  to  ad- 
minister, not  to  renounce  ;  that  the  commandment 
to  sell  all  cannot  be  generalized,  and  is  therefore 
not  moral ;  and  that  it  is,  in  short,  an  instance  of 
fanaticism  in  Jesus,  due  to  His  belief  in  the  near- 
ness of  the  Kingdom,  and  the  literal  worthlessness 
of  everything  in  comparison  with  entering  into  it 
at  His  side.  There  is  nothing  here  to  generalize 
about.  There  is  a  single  case  of  conscience  which 
Jesus  diagnoses,  and  for  which  He  prescribes  heroic 
treatment ;  but  it  is  not  in  the  patient  to  rise  to 
such  treatment.  The  high  calling  of  God  in  Christ 
Jesus  is  too  high  for  him ;  he  counts  himself  un- 
worthy of  the  eternal  life  (Ac  13*").  The  autliority 
of  Jesus  is  in  a  sense  acknowledged  in  this  man  ; 
it  is  felt  and  owned  though  it  is  declined.  Wliere 
the  authority  lay  is  clear  enough.  It  lay  in  tlie 
Good  Master  Himself,  in  His  own  identification 
with  the  good  cause,  in  His  own  renunciation  of 
all  things  for  the  Kingdom  of  God's  sake  ;  it  lay 
in  His  power  to  reveal  to  this  man  the  weak  spot 
in  his  moral  constitution,  and  in  the  inward 
witness  of  the  man's  conscience  (attested  by  liis 
sorrow  as  he  turned  away)  that  the  voice  of  Jesus 
was  the  voice  of  God,  and  that  tlirough  obedience 
to  it  he  would  have  entered  into  life.  It  lay  in  the 
whole  relation  of  these  two  concrete  personalities 
to  each  other,  and  it  cannot  be  reduced  to  an 
abstract  formula. 

This  holds  true  whenever  we  think  of  the  moral 
or  practical  authority  of  Jesus.  It  is  never  legal : 
that  is,  we  can  never  take  the  letter  in  which  it  is 
expressed  and  regard  it  as  a  statute,  incapaljle  of 
interpretation  or  modification,  and  binding  in  its 
literal  meanin"  for  all  persons,  all  times,  all  social 
conditions.  This  is  plain  in  regard  to  such  a  com- 
mand of  Jesus  as  the  one  given  to  the  rich  ruler  : 
no  one  will  say  that  this  is  to  be  obeyed  to  the 
letter  by  all  who  would  enter  into  the  Kingdom  of 
God.  But  it  is  equally  true  of  precepts  which  are 
addressed  to  a  far  wider  circle,  and  which  are 
sometimes  supposed  (like  this  one)  to  rest  in  a 
peculiar  sense  on  the  authority  of  Jesus.  Take, 
e.g.,  the  case  of  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount  in  Mt 
521-48  From  beginning  to  end  this  may  be  read  as 
an  assertion  of  the  moral  authority  of  Jesus,  an 
authority  which  is  conscious  of  transcending  tlie 
higiiest  yet  known  in  Israel.  '  It  was  said  to  them 
of  old  time  .  .  .  but  I  say  unto  you. '  On  what  do 
the  words  of  Jesus  throughout  this  passage  depend 
for  their  actual  weight  with  men  ?  They  depenil 
on  the  consciousness  of  men  that  through  these 
words  the  principle  of  morality,  for  which  our 
nature  has  an  abiding  affinity,  is  finding  expres- 
sion. But  just  because  we  are  conscious  of  this 
principle  and  of  the  affinity  of  our  nature  for  it,  we 
are  free  with  regard  to  any  particular  expression 
of  it ;  the  particular  words  in  which  it  is  embodied 
even  by  Jesus  do  not  possess  the  authority  of  a 
statute  to  which  we  can  only  conform,  but  about 
which  we  must  not  think.  When  Jesus  says, 
'  Whoso  shall  smite  thee  on  the  right  cheek,  turn 
to  him  also  the  other  ;  to  him  that  would  go  to  law 
with  thee  and  take  thy  coat,  leave  also  thy  cloak  ' : 
it  is  not  to  keep  us  from  thinking  about  moral 
problems  by  giving  us  a  rule  to  be  blindly  obeyed, 
it  is  rather  to  stimulate  thought  and  deliver  us 
from  rules.  His  precepts  are  legal  in  form,  but 
He  came  to  abolish  Icuiili-m,  uu.l  lliuiefore  they 
were  never  meant  to  be  liliTnlly  rr:i.l.  When  they 
are  literally  read,  coiisriuinr  -iinply  refuses  to 
take  them  in.  They  are  ra-uisti.-  in  form,  but 
anti-casuistic  in  intention,  and  liieir  authority  lies 


148 


AUTHORITY  OF  CHRIST 


AUTHORITY  OF  CHRIST 


in  the  intention,  not  in  the  form.  What  the  pre- 
cepts of  non-resistance  and  non-retaliation  mean  is 
that  under  no  circumstances,  under  no  provoca- 
tion, must  the  disciple  of  Jesus  allow  his  conduct 
to  be  determined  by  any  other  motive  than  that  of 
love.  He  must  he  prepared  to  go  all  lengths  with 
love,  and  no  matter  how  love  is  tried,  he  must 
never  renounce  it  for  an  inferior  principle,  still  less 
for  an  instinctive  natural  passion,  such  as  the 
desire  for  revenge.  Put  thus,  the  moral  authority 
of  Jesus  is  unquestionable,  and  it  asserts  itself 
over  us  the  more,  the  more  we  feel  that  He  em- 
bodied in  His  own  life  and  conduct  the  principle 
which  He  proclaims.  But  there  is  nothing  in  this 
which  binds  us  to  take  in  the  letter  what  Jesus 
says  about  oaths,  or  non-resistance,  or  revenge  ; 
and  still  less  is  there  anything  to  support  the  idea 
that  His  words  on  these  subjects  are  part  of  a 
fanatical  renunciation  of  the  world  in  the  region 
of  honour  as  well  as  of  property, — a  literal  sur- 
render, in  view  of  the  imminence  of  the  Kingdom, 
of  all  that  makes  life  on  earth  worth  having.  It 
is  not  uncommon  now  for  those  wlio  regard  the 
Kingdom  of  God  as  purely  transcendent  and 
eschatological  to  match  this  paradoxical  doctrine 
with  an  ethical  system  equally  paradoxical,  a 
system  made  up  purely  of  renunciation  and  nega- 
tion, and  to  fasten  it  also  upon  Jesus  ;  but  it  is 
hardly  necessary  to  I'efute  either  the  one  paradox 
or  the  other.  What  commands  conscience  in  the 
most  startling  words  of  Jesus  is  the  truth  and  love 
which  dictate  them,  but  to  recognize  the  truth  and 
love  is  to  recognize  that  no  form  of  words  is  bind- 
ing of  itself.  It  is  tlie  supreme  task  of  the  moral 
being  to  discover  what  in  his  own  situation  truth 
and  love  require ;  and  there  is  no  short  cut  to  the 
discovery  of  this,  even  in  the  Sermon  on  the 
Mount.  Jesus  is  our  authority,  but  His  words  are 
not  our  statutes :  we  are  not  under  law,  even  the 
law  of  His  words,  but  under  grace — that  is,  under 
the  inspiration  of  His  personality  ;  and  though  His 
words  are  one  of  the  ways  in  which  His  moral 
ascendency  is  established  over  us,  they  are  only 
one.  There  is  an  authority  in  Him  to  which  no 
words,  not  even  His  own,  can  ever  be  equal. 

The  final  form  which  this  practical  or  moral 
authority  of  Jesus  assumes  in  the  NT  is  the  re- 
cognition of  Him  as  Judge  of  all.  Probably  in  the 
generation  before  that  in  which  He  lived  the  Jews 
had  come  to  regard  the  Messiah  as  God's  vice- 
gferentin  the  great  jud,i;iiient  wliirli  usliered  in  the 
world  to  come;  but  «li;it  vf  liml  in  the  NT  in 
this  connexion  is  not  tlir  funn.-il  i  laiisference  of  a 
piece  of  Messianic  ddL'iiKitii-  tn  .lesus;  it  is  the 
moral  recognition  of  the  moral  supremacy  of 
Jesus,  and  of  His  right  to  pronounce  finally  on 
the  moral  worth  of  men  and  things.  Experiences 
like  that  which  inspired  Lk  5'  ('  Depart  from  me, 
for  I  am  a  sinful  man,  O  Lord  '),  Jn  i-^  ('  Come  see  a 
man  which  told  me  all  things  that  ever  I  did  '),  21^' 
('Thou  knowest  all  things,  thou  knowest  that  I 
love  thee '),  are  the  basis  on  which  tlie  soul  recog- 
nizes Christ  as  Judge.  The  claim  to  be  Judge 
appears  also  in  Hisown  teaching  (Mt  7"'-,  Lk  IS^"-, 
Mt  25^^-) ;  and  if  the  form  of  the  words  in  the  first 
of  these  passages  has  been  modified  in  tradition  in 
order  to  bring  out  their  bearing  for  those  for  whom 
the  Evangelist  wrote,  no  one  doubts  that  their 
substance  goes  back  to  Jesus.  It  is  He  who  con- 
templates the  vain  pleas  which  men  will  address 
to  Him  'in  that  day'^men  who  with  religious 
profession  and  service  to  the  Church  liave  never- 
theless been  morally  unsound.  The  standard  of 
judgment  is  variously  represented  :  it  is  '  the  will 
of  my  Father  which  is  in  heaven '  (Mt  7^')  or 
'these  sayings  of  mine'  (7")  or  it  is  what  we 
might  call  in  a  word  '  humanity  '  (2iy^-  ^-) :  and  in 
its  way  each  of  these  is  a  synonym  for  the  moral 


authority  of  Jesus.  As  far  as  we  are  sensitive  to 
tlieir  demands  we  are  sensitive  to  His  moral  claim. 
Into  tlie  representations  of  Jesus  as  Judge  outside 
of  the  Gospels  it  is  not  necessary  to  enter. 

(b)  The  authority  of  Jesus  comes  before  us  in 
another  aspect  when  we  think  of  Hira  not  as  com- 
manding but  as  teaching,  not  as  Legislator  or 
Judge,  but  as  Revealer.  In  the  first  case,  authority 
means  His  title  to  obedience  ;  in  this  case,  it  may 
he  said  to  mean  His  title  to  belief. 

Perliaps  of  all  theological  questions  the  nature 
and  limits  of  this  last  authority  are  those  which 
have  excited  the  keenest  dLscussion  in  recent 
times.  On  the  one  hand,  there  are  those  who, 
fixing  their  minds  on  the  Divinity  of  Jesus,  regard 
it  as  essentially  un-Christian  to  question  His  utter- 
ances at  any  point.  Whatever  Jesus  believed,  or 
seemed  to  believe,  on  any  subject  is  by  that  very 
fact  raised  above  qiiestion.  The  mind  has  simply 
to  receive  it  on  His  authority.  Thus  when  He 
refers  to  Jonah  (Mt  123™-,  Lk  11»"'-),  the  literal 
historicity  of  the  Book  of  Jonah  is  guaranteed  ; 
when  He  ascribes  the  110th  Psalm  to  David  (Mt 
22"'''-  and  || ),  critical  discussion  of  the  authorship 
is  foreclosed ;  when  He  recognizes  possession  by 
unclean  spirits  (Mk  1=^"-  and  often),  possession  is 
no  longer  a  theory  to  explain  certain  facts,  and 
therefore  open  to  revision  ;  it  is  itself  a  fact :  it 
gives  us  a  glimpse  into  the  constitution  of  the 


spiritual  universe  which  we  are  not  at  liberty  to 
question.  On  the  other  hand,  there  are  those 
who,  while  they  declare  their  faith  in  the  Incarna- 
tion, argue  that  it  belongs  to  the  very  truth  of  the 
Incarnation  that  Jesus  should  not  merely  be  man, 
but  man  of  a  particular  time  and  environment ; 
not  man  in  the  abstract,  but  man  defined  (and 
therefore  in  some  sense  limited)  by  tlie  conditions 
which  constitute  reality.  He  had  not  simply 
intelligence,  but  intelligence  which  had  been 
moulded  by  a  certain  education,  and  could  only 
reveal  itself  through  a  certain  language  ;  and  botli 
of  these  are  conditions  which  (w'liile  essential  to 
Iiistorical  reality)  nevertheless  involve  limitation. 
Hence  with  repud  to  the  class  of  subjects  just 
referred  to,  tliose  wlio  are  here  in  question  feel 
quite  at  liliLTty  to  form  their  own  opinions  on 
relevant  grounds.  They  do  not,  as  they  think, 
set  aside  the  authority  of  Jesus  in  doing  so  :  their 
idea  rather  is  that  in  these  regions  Jesus  never 
claimed  to  have  or  to  exercise  any  authority. 
Tlius  ill  ihr  lir^t  two  instances  adduced  above,  He 
siiiiply  tak.  -  {\i,-  ( i  T  ,i^  it  stands,  and  He  appeals 
to  it  i"  roll li!  Ill  a  -],jiitiial  truth  which  He  is  teach- 
ing OIL  its  .mn  iiiuiils.  In  Mt  12^''-  He  is  reproach- 
ing an  impenitent  people,  and  He  refers  to  the 
Book  of  Jonah  for  a  great  example  of  repentance, 
and  that  on  the  part  of  a  heathen  race  ;  the  men 
of  Nineveh  who  repented  will  condemn  His  un- 
repentant contemporaries  in  tlie  day  of  judgment. 
In  Mt  22^'"f-  He  is  teaching  that  the  essential  thing 
in  Messiahship  is  not  a  relation  to  David,  but  a 
relation  to  God  ;  and  He  refers  to  the  110th  Psalm, 
and  to  David  as  its  author,  as  unintelligible  except 
on  this  hypothesis.  In  both  cases  (it  is  argued) 
the  truths  which  rest  on  the  authority  of  Jesus 
are  independent  of  the  OT  appeal  which  is  associ- 
ated with  them.  That  repentance  is  an  essential 
condition  of  entering  into  the  Kingdom  of  God, 
and  that  there  is  no  responsibility  so  hea\'y  as  that 
of  those  who  will  not  repent  even  when  Jesus 
calls,  are  truths  which  are  not  affected  thougli 
the  Book  of  Jonah  is  read  as  an  allegoi-y  or  a 
poem  ;  that  the  fundamental  thing  in  the  person 
of  Jesus  is  not  His  relation  to  David  (which  He 
sliared  witli  others)  Imt  His  relation  to  God  (which 
belonged  tii  Him  aloni'l,  is  a  truth  which  is  not 
atlected  thiiugh  the  llnth  Psalm  is  .ascribed  to  thi- 
>laceaba?aii  period.     In  otiier  words,  the  autliority 


AUTHORITY  OF  CHRIST 


AUTHORITY  OF  CHRIST 


149 


of  Jesus  as  a  revealer  of  God  and  of  the  laws  of 
His  Kingdom  is  not  touched,  though  we  suppose 
Hinx  to  share  on  such  matters  as  are  here  in 
question  the  views  which  were  current  among  His 
contemporaries.  It  is  not  denying  His  Divinity  to 
say  this  ;  it  is  rather  denying  His  liumanity  if  we 
say  the  opposite.  Parallel  considerations  apply  to 
the  belief  in  possession  which  Jesus  undoubtedly 
shared  with  His  fellow-countrymen,  and  in  fact 
with  His  contemporaries  generally.  Possession 
was  the  current  theory  of  certain  morbid  condi- 
tions of  human  nature,  physical,  mental,  and 
probably  in  some  cases  also  moral  ;  but  the  one 
thing  of  consequence  in  the  Gospel  is  not  that 
Jesus  held  this  or  any  other  theory  about  these 
morbid  conditions,  but  that  in  Him  the  power  of 
God  was  present  to  heal  them.  Our  theory  of 
them  may  be  different,  but  that  only  means  that 
we  belong  to  a  different  age  ;  it  does  not  touch  the 
truth  that  from  these  terrible  and  mysterious  woes 
Jesus  was  mighty  to  save.  It  does  not  matter  that 
His  notions  of  medicine  and  psychology  were 
different  from  ours ;  He  did  not  come  to  reveal 
medicine  or  pyschology— to  'reveal'  such  things 
is  a  contradiction  in  terms  ;  He  came  to  reveal 
the  Father,  and  His  authority  has  its  centre 
tjiere. 

There  is,  no  doubt,  great  possibility  of  error  in 
arguing  from  such  abstract  ideas  as  '  Divinity ' 
and  '  humanity,'  especially  when  they  are  in  some 
way  opposed  to  one  anotlier  in  our  minds :  how- 
ever we  may  define  them,  we  must  remember  that 
they  were  in  no  sense  opposed  or  inconsistent  in 
Christ.  He  was  at  once  and  consistently  ail  that 
we  mean  by  Divine  and  all  that  we  mean  by 
human,  but  we  cannot  learn  what  that  was  by 
looking  up '  divine '  and  '  human '  in  the  dictionary, 
or  in  a  book  of  dogmatic  theology.  We  must  look 
at  Jesus  Himself  as  He  is  presented  to  us  in  the 
Go-spels.  And  further,  we  must  consider  that 
there  is  a  vast  region  of  things  in  which  there 
neither  is  nor  can  be  any  such  thing  as  authority 
— the  region,  namely,  which  is  covered  by  science. 
Now  questions  of  the  kind  to  which  reference  has 
just  been  made  all  belong  to  the  domain  of  science. 
The  nature  of  the  Book  of  Jonah,  the  date  and 
authorship  of  the  UOth  Psalm,  tlie  exjilanation  of 
the  morbid  phenomena  which  the  ancients  ascribed 
to  evil  spirits  inhabiting  the  bodies  of  men  :  these 
are  questions  for  literary,  for  historical,  for  medical 
science.  It  is  a  misleading  way  of  speaking  about 
them,  and  needlessly  hurts  some  Christian  feel- 
ings, to  say  that  the  authority  of  Jesus  was 
limited,  and  did  not  extend  to  such  matters.  "The 
truth  rather  is  that  such  matters  belong  to  a 
region  where  there  is  no  such  thing  as  authority, 
or  where  the  only  authority  is  that  of  facts,  which 
those  in  quest  of  knowledge  must  apprehend  and 
interpret  for  themselves.  It  is  a  negation  of  the 
very  idea  of  science  to  suppose  that  any  con- 
stituent of  it  could  be  revealed,  or  could  rest  upon 
authority,  even  the  authority  of  Jesus.  Hence  in 
regard  to  all  sucli  subjects  the  question  of  Jesus' 
authority  ought  never  to  be  raised  :  it  is  not  only 
misleading,  but  unreal.  On  the  other  hand,  when 
we  come  to  the  authority  which  Jesus  actually 
claims  as  a  revealer  of  God,  and  of  the  things  of 
His  Kingdom,  we  iind  that  it  is  not  only  real  but 
absolute— an  authority  to  which  the  soul  renders 
unreserved  acknowledgment. 

This  is  brought  out  most  clearly  in  Mt  IP'. 
Here  Jesus  speaks  in  explicit  terms  of  His  function 
as  Revealer,  and  we  see  at  once  the  absoluteness 
of  His  authority,  and  its  sphere.  'All  things 
have  been  delivered  unto  me  by  my  Father,  and 
no  one  knoweth  the  Son  save  the  Father,  neither 
doth  any  know  the  Father  save  the  Son,  and 
he  to  whomsoever  the  Sou  willeth  to  reveal  him.' 


Whatever  else  these  words  express,  they  express 
Jesus'  sense  of  absolute  competence  in  His  vocation  : 
He  had  everything  given  to  Him  which  belonged  to 
the  work  He  had  to  do,  and  He  was  conscious  of 
being  equal  to  His  task.  If  we  try  to  interpret 
'all  things'  by  reference  to  the  context,  then 
whether  we  look  before  or  after  we  must  say  that 
the  '  all  things'  in  view  are  those  involved  in  the 
revelation  of  God  :  in  the  work  of  revelation,  and 
especially  in  the  revelation  of  Himself  as  Father, 
God  has  no  organ  but  Christ,  and  in  Christ  He 
has  an  adequate  organ.  The  passage  anticipates 
Jn  14"  '  I  am  the  way,  the  truth,  and  the  life  :  no 
man  cometh  unto  the  Father  but  by  me.'  It  is  in 
a  word  like  this—/  am  the  truth— thut  we  find  the 
key  to  the  problems  which  have  been  raised  about 
the  authority  of  Jesus  as  a  Teacher  or  Revealer. 
The  truth  which  we  accept  on  His  authority  is 
the  truth  which  we  recognize  in  Him.  It  is' not 
announced  by  Him  from  a  world  into  which  we 
cannot  enter;  it  is  present  here,  in  Him,  in  the 
world  in  which  we  live.  It  is  not  declared  on 
authority  to  which  we  blindly  surrender;  it  is 
exhibited  in  a  Person  and  a  Life  which  pass  before 
us  and  win  our  hearts.  To  put  it  othermse,  the 
truth  which  we  owe  to  Jesus,  and  for  which  He 
is  our  authority,  is  not  information ;  it  is  not  a 
contribution  to  science,  physical  or  historical— for 
this  we  are  ca.st  by  God  on  our  own  resources ; 
it  is  the  truth  which  is  identical  with  His  own 
being  and  life  in  the  world,  which  is  embodied  or 
incarnate  in  Him.  It  is  the  truth  which  is  in- 
volved in  His  own  relation  to  God  and  man,  and 
in  His  perfect  consciousness  of  that  relation  :  it  is 
the  truth  of  His  own  personality,  not  any  casual 
.scientific  fact.  He  does  not  claim  to  know  every- 
thing, and  it  would  be  difficult  to  reconcile  such 
a  claim  with  true  manhood ;  but  He  does  claim 
full  knowledge  of  the  Father,  and  not  His  words 
only,  but  His  whole  being  and  life  are  the  justi- 
fication of  His  claim.* 

The  authority  of  Christ  as  a  Teacher  and  Revealer 
has  been  called  in  question  mainly  in  connexion 
with  His  words  about  the  future.  There  is  no 
doubt  that  these  present  great  difficulty  to  those 
who  believe  in  Him.  They  seem  to  say  quite  un- 
mistakably that  certain  things  will  happen,  and 
happen  within  a  comparatively  short  time,  which 
(if  we  are  to  read  literally)  have  not  happened 
yet.  '  Ye  shall  not  have  gone  through  the  cities 
of  Israel  till  the  Son  of  man  be  come '  (Mt  10'=') ; 
'  Verily  I  say  unto  you,  there  be  .some  of  them  that 
stand  here  which  shall  in  no  wise  taste  of  death  till 
they  see  the  Son  of  man  coming  in  his  kingdom ' 
(Mt  16-8 ;  cf.  Mt  24=3•=^  Mk  133«'-,  Lk  '21'-'").  The 
coming  of  the  Son  of  man  in  His  kingdom  was 
conceived  quite  definitely  by  the  Apostolic  Church 
as  a  supernatural  visible  coming  on  the  clouds  of 

•  Loisy (L'Smngile  et  L'jSgllse,  46  f.,  Autour  d'un  petit  Livre, 
130  f.)  has  attacked  Mt  1127  on  the  ground  that  the  unique 
Divine  Sonship  which  it  ascribes  to  Jesus  is  of  a  sort  which 
it  was  not  historically  possible  for  Him  to  conceive  or  assert. 
Jesus,  he  holds,  couid  only  have  used  'Son  of  God'  in  the 
Messianic  official  sense  of  Ps  2?  ;  here,  therefore,  where  the 
meaning:  is  clearly  more  than  official,  it  cannot  be  the  voice  of 
a  Jewish  Messiah  which  is  heard,  but  the  voice  of  the  Christian 
consciousness  in  a  Gentile  environment :  the  larger  Church  has 
universalized  the  Jewish  conception,  elevated  the  official  Son- 
King— into  a  Son  by  nature,  and  put  its  own 
3wn  experience  of  Jesus  into  Jesus'  own  lips. 
lOUgh  to  say  in  refutation  of  this,  that  the  words 
question,  as  found  both  in  Mt.  and  Lk.,  in  all  probability 
belong  to  Weiss's  '  apostolic  source,'  the  oldest  record  of  words 
of  Jesus  ;  and  that  the  same  unique  relation  of  '  the  Father  * 
and  '  the  Son  '  is  implied  in  Mk  13^'-,  the  genuineness  of  which 
no  one  doubts,  Schmiedel  (Eiici/c.  Bibt.  ii.  2627),  without  dis- 
puting the  words  in  Mt  11^,  tries  by  recurring  to  the  Western 
text  to  reduce  them  to  the  '  official '  Messianic  meaning  which 
Loisy  could  recognize  as  possibly  historical.  Harn.ack,  on  the 
other  hand,  treats  them  .as  authentic,  and  indeed  as  the  most 
important  and  characteristic  words  of  Jesus  on  record  for 
determining  His  thought  regarding  Himself  (Z>«s  Weseii  ties 
Christentums,  p.  SI). 


the  Me8siani< 
faith  and  its 
Perhaps  i 


150 


AUTHORITY  OF  CHRIST 


AUTHORITY  OF  CHRIST 


heaven,  and  it  is  a  strong  measure  to  assume  that 
in  cherishing  this  hope,  by  which  the  NT  is  in- 
spired from  beginning  to  end,  the  early  Church 
was  completely  misapprehending  the  Master.  He 
must  have  said  sometning— when  we  consider  the 
intensity  of  the  Apostolic  hope,  surely  we  may  say 
He  must  have  said  nmch — to  create  and  sustain 
an  expectation  so  keen.  But  there  are  considera- 
tions we  must  keep  in  mind  if  we  would  do  justice 
to  all  the  facts.  (1)  The  final  triumph  of  His  cause, 
which  was  the  cause  of  God  and  His  kingdom,  was 
not  for  Jesus  an  Item  in  a  list  of  dogmas,  but  a 
living  personal  faith  and  hope  ;  in  this  sense  it  has 
the  authority  of  His  personality  behind  it.  It  was 
as  sure  to  Him  as  His  own  being  that  the  cause 
for  which  He  stood  in  the  world  would  triumph  ; 
and  it  is  as  sure  for  everyone  who  believes  in 
Him.  (2)  He  Himself,  with  all  this  assurance  of 
faith,  explicitly  declares  His  ignorance  of  the  day 
and  hour  at  which  the  final  triumph  comes.  He 
longed  for  it  intensely  ;  He  felt  that  it  was  urgent 
that  it  should  come  ;  and  urgency,  when  expressed 
in  terms  of  time,  means  imminence ;  but  the  dis- 
claimer of  knowledge  remains.  The  one  thing  cer- 
tain is  that  He  spoke  of  the  time  as  uncertam,  as 
sometimes  sooner  than  men  would  expect,  and 
sometimes  later  :  the  moral  attitude  required  being 
always  that  of  watching  (Bruce,  Kingdom  of  God, 
p.  278  fl".  ;  Wendt,  Teaching  of  Jesus,  i.  p.  127).  (3) 
When  Jesus  bodied  forth  this  hope  of  the  future 
triumph  of  His  cause,  and  of  His  own  glorious  com- 
ing. He  did  it  in  language  borrowed  mainly  from 
the  OT  apocalypse,  the  Book  of  Daniel.  It  would 
be  hard  to  say  that  the  Apostles  completely  mis- 
understood Him  when  He  did  so,  but  it  is  hard 
for  anyone  in  using  such  language  to  say  what  is 
literal  in  it  and  what  has  to  be  spiritualized.  No 
one  in  reading  Dn  7  takes  the  four  great  beasts, 
and  the  sea  out  of  which  they  rise,  literally  ;  why, 
then,  must  we  be  compelled  to  take  the  human 
form  and  tlie  clouds  of  heaven,  literally?  The 
Book  of  Acts  (2'^-=i)  sees  in  the  experience  of  the 
Church  at  Pentecost  the  fulfilment  of  a  prophecy 
in  Joel  (2*")  which  speaks  of  '  blood  and  fire  and 
vapour  of  smoke,  of  the  sun  turning  into  dark- 
ness and  the  moon  into  blood,'  though  no  such 
phenomena  actually  accompanied  the  gift  of  the 
Spirit.  May  not  modern  Christians,  and  even  tlie 
early  believers,  have  taken  poetic  expressions  of 
the  living  hope  of  Jesus  more  prosaically  than 
He  meant  them  ?  (4)  We  must  allow  for  the  pos- 
sibility that  in  the  reports  of  Jesus'  words  which 
we  possess,  the  reporters  may  sometimes  have 
allowed  the  hopes  kindled  in  their  own  hearts 
by  Jesus  to  give  a  turn  or  a  colour,  quite  in- 
voluntarily, to  what  they  tell  us.  They  might  not 
be  able  to  distinguish  precisely  between  the  hopes 
they  owed  to  Him  and  the  very  words  in  winch 
He  had  declared  His  o\vii  assurance  of  victory. 
And  finally  (5),  we  must  remember  that  in  a 
spiritual  sense  the  prophecies  of  Jesus  liave  been 
fulfilled.  He  came  again  in  power.  He  came  in 
the  resurrection,  and  He  came  at  Pentecost.  He 
filled  Jerusalem  with  His  presence  in  tlie  early 
days  of  the  Church  as  He  had  never  done  while 
He  lived  on  earth  ;  from  the  very  hour  when  tliey 
condemned  Him  (Mt  26'''')  it  was  possible  for  His 
judges  to  be  conscious  of  His  exaltation  and  of  His 
coming  in  power.  It  may  be  that  in  all  propliecy, 
even  in  the  prophecy  of  Jesus,  there  is  the  eliinent 
which  we  can  call  illusive,  without  having'  to  call 
it  delusive.  To  be  intelligible,  it  must  speak  the 
language  of  the  age,  but  it  is  going  to  be  fuUilled 
in  another  age,  the  realities  and  experiences  uf 
which  transcend  the  conceptions  and  the  speecli 
of  the  present.  Even  if  this  be  so,  it  does  not 
sliake  our  faith  in  Jesus  and  His  authority.  The 
truth  which  is  incarnate  in  His  person  is  the  truth 


of  the  final — and  who  ^vill  not  .sometimes  say  the 
speedy? — triumph  of  His  cause.  We  may  mis- 
conceive the  mode  of  it,  even  when  we  Uy  to  guide 
ourselves  by  His  words ;  but  the  important  thing 
is  not  the  mode  but  the  fact,  and  of  that  we  iire  as 
sure  as  we  are  sure  of  Him. 

(c)  Besides  the  authority  which  He  exerci-sed  in 
establishing  His  ascendency  over  men,  and  that 
which  we  recognize  in  Him  as  the  Truth,  we  may 
distinguish  (though  it  is  but  part  of  His  revelation 
of  the  Father)  the  gracious  authority  exercised  by 
Christ  in  forgiving  sins.  That  He  did  forrive  sins 
is  not  to  be  doubted.  The  narrative  in  Mk  2'-'^ 
makes  this  clear.  Jesus  no  more  declared  that  the 
paralytic's  sins  were  forgiven  than  He  declared 
that  he  was  not  lame :  the  meaning  of  the  whole 
incident  is  that  His  word  conferred  with  eqiial 
power  the  gift  of  pardon  and  the  gift  of  bodily 
strength.  The  one  miracle  of  redemption — 'who 
forgiveth  all  thine  iniquities,  who  healeth  all  thy 
diseases' — reaches  through  the  whole  of  human 
nature,  and  Jesus  has  authority  to  perform  it  all. 
It  is  in  this  sense  that  we  mu.st  interpret  passages 
like  Lk  7''™-  23«  as  well  as  Mk  2",  Lk  15,  and 
ultimately  Mt  IS's  and  Jn  20=3.  There  is  not  any- 
thing to  be  said  of  this  authority  but  that  it  must 
vindicate  itself.  No  one  can  believe  that  Jesus 
has  authority  to  forgive  sins  except  the  man  who 
through  Jesus  has  had  the  experience  of  forgive- 
ness. The  Divine  love  that  dwelt  in  Jesus,  tliat 
received  sinners  and  ate  with  them,  that  spent 
itself  to  seek  and  save  the  lost,  that  saw  what  was 
of  God  in  men  and  touched  it :  that  Divine  love 
made  forgiveness  not  only  credible  to  sinners,  but 
real.  It  entered  into  their  hearts  with  God's  own 
authority,  and  in  penitent  faith  and  love  the 
burden  passed  from  tlieir  consciences  and  they 
were  born  again.  When  He  was  challenged  by 
the  scribes,  Jesus  appealed  to  the  physical  miracle, 
which  was  indisputable,  in  support  of  the  spiritual 
one,  which  lay  beyond  the  reach  of  sense ;  but  it 
was  only  the  scribes,  not  the  forgiven  man,  who 
needed  this  seal  of  His  authority  to  pardon. 
Those  whom  He  forgave  had  tlie  witness  in  them- 
selves, and  ultimately  there  can  be  no  other.  The 
authority  which  Jesus  exercised  in  this  gracious 
sense  He  extended  to  His  disciples  alike  during 
their  brief  mission  while  He  was  on  earth  (Mk  'A^ 
6'"'^),  and  in  view  of  their  wider  calling  when  He 
was  exalted  (Mt  IS'^,  Jn  20='). 

Some  light  is  thrown  upon  the  authority  of 
Jesus  if  we  consider  the  occasions  on  which  it  was 
challenged,  and  the  way  in  which  Jesus  met  them. 

(a)  It  was  tacitly  challenged  wherever  men  were 
'  ott'ended  '  in  Him.  To  be  offended  (aKavSaKlitaBai) 
is  to  stumble  at  His  claims,  to  find  something  in 
Him  which  one  cannot  get  over  and  which  is  in- 
compatible with  absolute  surrender  to  Him ;  it  is 
to  deny  His  right  to  impose  upon  men  the  conse- 
quences (persecution,  poverty,  even  death)  which 
may  be  involved  in  accepting  His  authority  (see 
Mt  lloiS'i-^f-  15'=24">26":  the  other  Gospels  here 
add  nothing  to  Mt.).  Sometimes  Jesus  met  tliis 
tacit  challenge  by  pointing  to  the  general  charac- 
ter of  His  work  as  vindicating  His  claims.  This 
is  what  He  does  in  the  case  of  John  the  Baptist 
(Mt  1  !=■*}.  Wliether  we  read  this  passage — 'the 
blind  receive  their  sight,  the  lame  walk,'  etc. — in 
the  physical  or  the  spiritual  sense,  the  works  in 
question  are  the  signs  that  God's  Anointed  has 
tome,  and  it  can  only  mean  loss  and  ruin  to  men 
if  they  fail  to  see  and  to  acknowledge  Him  as 
^^  hat  He  is.  Sometimes,  again,  Jesus  encountered 
those  who  were  '  oflended '  in  Him  with  a  sever- 
ity amounting  to  scorn.  When  the  Pharisees 
'  stumbled '  because  His  word  about  things  that 
do  and  do  not  defile  cut  straight  across  tlieir  tra- 
ditional prejudices,  He  did  nothing  to  conciliate 


AUTHORITY  OF  CHRIST 


AUTHORITY  OF  CHRIST        151 


them.  '  Every  plant  that  my  heavenly  Father 
hath  not  planted  shall  be  rooted  up.  Let  them 
alone.  They  are  blind  guides  of  Ijlind  men.  And 
if  the  blind  man  leads  the  blind,  both  shall  fall 
into  the  ditch '  (Mt  15'^'-)-  I'>  reality  the  '  oti'ence ' 
in  this  case  meant  that  sham  holiness  would  not 
acknowledge  true ;  and  in  tliis  situation  it  can 
only  be  war  A  Voutrancc.  As  a  rule,  however, 
Jesus  only  speaks  of  men  being  offended,  or 
offended  in  Hira,  by  way  of  warning  ;  and  He 
assumes  that  to  the  solemn  tones  of  His  warning 
conscience  will  respond.  His  authority  is  inherent 
in  Himself  and  His  actions,  and  cannot  with  a 
good  conscience  be  repudiated  by  any  one  who 
sees  what  He  is.  This  is  the  tone  of  Mt  13='  241" 
26^1. 

(j3)  It  is  a  more  explicit  challenge  of  His  authority 
when  Jesus  is  asked  to  show  a  sign,  or  a  sign  from 
heaven  (Mt  12^'- 16"-,  Lk  238,  jn  gs").  This  was  the 
recurrence  of  the  temptation  of  the  pinnacle,  and 
Jesus  consistently  rejected  it.  He  never  consented 
(not  even  in  the  case  of  the  paralytic  of  Mk  2'-', 
see  above)  to  present  the  physical  as  evidence  for 
the  spiritual.  The  proof  of  the  authority  with 
which  He  spoke  did  not  lie  outside  of  His  word,  in 
something  which  could  be  attached  to  it,  but  in 
the  word  itself ;  if  it  was  not  self -attesting,  nothing 
else  could  attest  it.  This  is  put  with  peculiar  force 
in  the  Fourth  Gospel.    It  is  true  that  an  evidential 


value  is  recognized  in  the  miracles,  but  it  is  onli 

:  '  though 

ye  believe  not  me,  believe  the  works'  (Jn  10^'*); 


by  an  afterthought,  or  as  a  second  best :  '  thoug 


•  believe  that  I  am  in  the  Father  and  the  Father 
in  me ;  or  else,  believe  for  the  very  works'  sake ' 
(141').  The  main  line  of  thought  is  that  which 
deprecates  faith  based  on  signs  and  wonders  (4^). 
When  the  multitudes  ask,  '  What  sign  doest  thou 
then?  our  fathers  did  eat  the  manna  in  the  wilder- 
ness,' the  answer  of  Jesus  virtually  is,  '  /  am  the 
bread  of  life.  ...  He  that  eateth  me  shall  live  by 
me  .  .  .  the  words  that  I  speak  unto  you  are 
spirit  and  are  life'  (Jn  &°^-).  In  other  words,  the 
authority  of  Jesus  does  not  depend  upon  any  ex- 
ternal credentials ;  it  is  involved  in  what  He  is, 
and  must  be  immediately  apprehended  and  re- 
sponded to  by  the  soul.  What  enables  men  to  re- 
cognize Je.sus  as  what  He  is,  and  so  to  acknowledge 
His  authority,  is,  according  to  the  representation 
of  the  central  chapters  in  John  (chs.  6-10),  a  need 
in  their  nature  or  state  which  Ho  can  supply.  If 
we  wish  to  be  sure  that  He  is  the  Christ,  the  King 
in  the  Kingdom  of  God,  the  way  to  certainty  is  not 
to  prove  that- He  was  born  at  Bethlehem'  of  the 
seed  of  David  (1*°),  nor  that  He  came  into  the 
world  mysteriously  (7"),  nor  that  He  has  done 
many  miracles  (7'') :  it  is  to  see  in  Him  the  living 
bread  (ch.  6),  the  living  water  (ch.  4  and  7^),  the 
light  of  the  world  (chs.  8  and  9),  the  Good  Shepherd 
(ch.  10),  the  Giver  of  Life  (chs.  5  and  11).  These 
are  ideas  or  experiences  which  are  relative  to 
universal  human  needs,  and  therefore  they  are 
universally  intelligible ;  every  one  who  knows  what 
it  is  to  be  hungry,  thirsty,  forlorn,  in  the  dark, 
dead,  knows  how  to  appreciate  Jesus ;  and  apart 
from  these  experiences  no  cleverness  in  applying 
prophetic  or  other  theological  signs  to  Him  is  of 
any  value.  All  this  is  strictly  relevant,  for  it  is 
through  experiences  in  which  we  become  debtors 
to  Jesus  for  meat  and  drink,  for  lij/ht  and  life, 
that  we  become  conscious  of  what  His  authority 

(7)  Once,  at  least,  the  authority  of  Jesus  was 
challenged  in  a  quasi-legal  fashion.  When  He 
drove  the  traders  from  the  Temple,  the  chief 
priests  and  the  elders  of  the  people  came  to  Him, 
saying,  'By  what  authority  doest  thou  these 
things,  and  who  gave  thee  this  authority?'  (Mt 
21=™-,   Mk   ll="f-,   Lk  20"f').      Formally,   by   His 


counter  question  about  the  Baptist,  Jesus  only 
silences  His  adversaries ;  but  more  than  this  i.s 
meant.  If,  He  suggests,  they  had  been  true  to  the 
earlier  messenger  of  God,  they  would  have  had 
no  difficulty  about  His  claims.  If  they  had  re- 
pented at  John's  summons,  and  been  right  with 
God,  then  to  their  simple  and  humble  hearts  Jesus' 
action  would  have  vindicated  itself ;  as  it  is,  to 
their  insincere  souls  He  has  no  advance  to  make. 
The  ambassador  of  an  earthly  king  has  creden- 
tials external  to  his  person  and  his  message,  but 
not  the  ambassador  in  whom  God  Himself  visits 
His  people.  His  actions  like  His  words  speak  for 
themselves.  Throughout  the  Fourth  Gospel  it  is 
an  affinity  of  spirit  with  Jesus  on  which  the  recog- 
nition of  His  authority  depends.  It  is  those  who 
are  of  God  (Jn  8^'),  of  the  truth  (18"),  those  who  are 
His  sheep  (lO'"-"''),  who  hear  His  voice  :  those  who 
are  not  of  God,  especially  the  insincere,  who  seek 
honour  from  one  another  (5"),  are  inevitably 
offended  in  Him. 

2.  Thus  far  we  have  considered  the  authority  of 
Christ  as  it  was  exercised,  acknowledged,  or  de- 
clined during  His  life  on  earth.  But  the  NT 
exhibits  much  more  than  this.  It  is  not  merely 
as  historical,  but  as  exalted,  that  Christ  exercises 
authority — in  the  Church.  In  all  its  aspects  the 
authority  which  we  have  studied  in  the  Gospels 
reajjpears  in  the  Epistles.  It  is  perpetuated  in  the 
Christian  society  in  an  effective,  if  somewhat  unde- 
linable  way. 

What  strikes  one  first  in  the  NT  literature, 
apart  from  the  Gospels,  is  the  almost  complete 
absence  of  literal  appeal  to  Jesus.  The  Apostles, 
whatever  be  the  explanation,  do  not,  except  on 
rare  occasions,  quote  the  Lord.  It  is  true  that 
when  they  do  so.  His  word  is  regarded  as  decisive 
in  a  sense  in  which  even  the  word  of  an  apostle  is 
not  (cf.  1  Co  7'"  with  vv.'^- ==•'"').  It  is  true  also 
that  passages  like  Ro  12. 13,  and  much  in  the  Epistle 
of  James,  could  only  have  been  written  (in  all 
probability)  by  men  who  not  only  had  the  Spirit 
of  Christ,  but  whose  minds  were  full  of  echoes  of 
His  words.  Nevertheless  the  fact  remains  that 
Jesus  is  hardly  appealed  to  formally  as  an  autho- 
rity in  the  NT  writings.  Tliere  could  be  no  more 
striking  proof  of  the  fact  that  Christianity  was 
apprehended  from  the  first  as  a  free  and  spiritual 
religion  to  which  everything  statutory  was  alien. 
Not  even  the  word  of  Jesus  had  legal  character  for 
it.  What  Jesus  sought  and  found  in  His  disciples 
was  a  spiritual  remembrance  of  Himself.  His 
words  were  preserved  not  in  a  phonograph,  or  in  a 
stenographic  report,  but  in  the  impression  they 
made,  in  the  insight  they  gave,  in  the  thoughts 
and  experiences  they  produced  in  the  lives  of 
living  men.  They  were  perpetuated  not  merely 
by  bein^  put  on  record,  but  still  more  by  being 
preached.  Now  to  preach  is  not  only  to  report, 
but  to  apply ;  and  the  application  of  the  word  of 
Christ  to  new  circumstances  inevitably  and  uncon- 
sciously brings  with  it  a  certain  or  rather  an 
uncertain  amount  of  interpretation,  of  bringing 
out  the  point,  of  emph.asis  on  this  or  that  which 
at  the  moment  demands  it.  What  we  wish  to 
know  is  whether  the  men  whose  ministry  perpet- 
uated the  word  of  Christ,  and  perpetuated  it  in 
this  free  and  spiritual  fashion,  had  the  qualifica- 
tions demanded  by  their  task.  Could  Christ  so  lit 
them  for  their  ministry  that  they  shoiilil  \»-  luiilri- 
no  legal  constraint,  and  yet  should  never  1«'  iiniail  h 
ful  to  His  meaning,  or  misrepresent  llim  "i  lln 
work?  In  other  words,  could  He  in  any  s.-usc 
transmit  His  authority  to  His  witnesses,  so  that  it 
should  be  felt  in  them  as  in  Him  ? 

The  answer  of  the  NT  is  in  the  affirmative,  and 
it  is  not  too  much  to  say  that  the  NT  as  a  whole 
is  the  proof  that  this  answer  is  right.     '  We  have 


AUTHORITY  OF  CHRIST 


AUTHORITY  OF  CHRIST 


says 

again  (in  2  Co  13*),  '  Ye  seek  a  inoof  of  Christ 
speaking  in  me  '—a  proof  which  he  is  quite  ready 
to  give.  He  was  conscious  that  in  the  discharge 
of  Ids  Aixjstolie  ministry  he  was  not  alone  :  Christ 
was  in  Iiim  pleading  His  own  cause.  Of  course 
the  authority  of  Christ  in  this  case  cannot  be  other 
than  we  have  already  seen  it  to  be  in  the  earthly 
life  of  Christ.  Its  range  is  the  same,  and  its  re- 
cognition is  conditioned  in  the  same  way.  The 
Apostle  is  no  more  bound  literally  to  reproduce 
Jesus  than  Jesus  is  l>ound  literally  to  reproduce 
Himself.  He  is  no  more  bound  than  Jesus  is  to 
prove  the  tr\ith  of  his  message  by  credentials  ex- 
ternal to  it.  He  no  more  hesitates  than  Jesus 
does  to  trace  the  rejection  of  his  message,  the 
refusal  to  call  Jesus  Lord,  to  a  want  of  moral 
affinity  with  Jesus  which  is  the  final  definition  of 
sin.  '  If  our  gospel  is  veiled,  it  is  veiled  in  them 
that  are  perishing,  in  whom  the  god  of  this  world 
hath  blinded  the  minds  of  the  unbelieving'  (2  Co 
4''-).  It  is  not  possible  to  say  beforehand,  on 
the  basis  of  any  doctrine  of  inspiration,  whether 
there  are  elements  in  the  Aimstolie  writings,  and 
if  so  what,  which  liave  no  authority  for  us. 
Nothing  in  them  has  legal  or  statutory  authority, 
and  spiritual  authority  must  be  trusted  to  win  for 
it-rif  till-  iviiiLTnition  which  is  its  due.     There  is 

s ■thiiiLj  tM  lie  .said  for  the  distinction  that  while 

till'  iisliiiiuny  of  the  Apostles  to  Jesus — a  tcsti- 
iimiiy  it^tiiii;  on  their  e.xperience  of  what  He  was 
and  of  what  He  had  done  for  them — is  perennially 
authoritative,  the  theology  of  the  Apostles— a 
theology  conditioned  by  the  intellectual  environ- 
ment in  which  they  lived  and  to  which  they  had 
to  vindicate  their  'iLii'ssu;i( — has  only  a  transient 
importance.  Tlic  ilillicult  \-  is  ju^rio  draw  the 
distinction  between  ti-.^tiniouy  anil  llieolo^'y  ;  as  a 
matter  of  fact,  the  two  things  iulerpuuelrate  in  the 
NT,  and  there  is  a  point  at  which  the  distinction 
disappears.  To  insist  upon  it  as  if  it  were  absolute 
is  really  to  introduce  again  into  Christianity  (under 
the  form  of  the  Apostolic  testimony)  that  legal  or 
statutory  or  dogmatic  element  from  which  Jesus 
set  all  religion  free.  It  is  better  to  read  the 
Apostles  as  men  through  whose  minds  Christ 
pleads  His  own  cause  in  the  Spirit.  The  minds 
may  be  more  or  less  adequate  instruments  for  His 
service ;  they  may  be  more  adequate  in  some  rela- 
tions, and  less  so  in  others ;  but  they  are  indi- 
visible, and  it  is  not  helpful  in  the  long  run  to 
introduce  into  them  the  schism  of  testimony  and 
theology.  We  must  let  them  tell  upon  us  in  their 
integrity,  and  acknowledge  their  authority  when- 
ever it  proves  irresistible.  (More  detailed  con- 
sideration of  this  point  will  be  found  in  the  article 
on  Preaching  Christ). 

The  part  of  the  NT  which  raises  in  the  acutest 
form  the  question  of  the  authority  of  Christ— or 
perhaps  we  should  say  here  of  His  Apostle— is  the 
Fourth  Gospel.  It  is  practically  agreed  among 
scholars  that  the  style  of  the  discourses  in  that 
Gospel  is  due  to  the  author,  not  to  the  speakers. 
Every  one  speaks  in  the  same  style— John  the 
Baptist,  Jesus,  the  Evangelist  himself.  The  words 
of  an  actor  in  the  history  (Jesus,  for  example,  in 
the  first  part  of  ch.  3,  and  the  Baptist  in  the  latter 
part)  pass  over  insensibly  into  words  of  the  liis- 
torian.  The  first  person  plural  is  used  by  Jesus 
(e.g.  3"  9')  where  it  is  tempting  to  say  that  it  is 
the  Christian  consciousness  which  is  expressed,  the 
common  mind  of  the  Church  which  owes  its  being 
to  Him.  Further,  Jesus  says  things  about  Himself 
in  the  Fourth  r;o>|,e!  U,  Nvlii.l,  tleae  is  no  parallel 
in  the  other  ilnre.  llr  ~|,,  ;iK^  |il:iiiil\  of  His  pre- 
existenee,  of  ili.-  ul.ii\  ^^l,l^h  ||,.  |,;,.l  with  the 
Fatliei-  hefov  th.-  -AoiM  «a^,  of  ,ui  eieinal  being 
which   was   His    lieforc    Abraliani    was    born  ;    He 


makes  Himself  the  content  and  the  subject  of  His 
teaching — '  I  am  the  bread  of  life,  the  light  of  the 
world,  tlie  resurrection  and  the  life'  ;  He  identifies 
Himself  in  a  mysterious  way  with  the  redeeming 
purpose  and  power  of  God — '  I  and  the  Father  are 
one,'  '  He  that  hath  seen  me  hath  seen  the  Father.' 
It  may  be  difficult  for  the  historian,  on  purely  his- 
torical grounds,  to  pi-ove  that  Jesus  uttered  a\\  the 
words  thus  ascribed  to  Him,  and  if  the  difhculty 
presses,  the  authority  of  the  words  may  seem  to 
disappear.  But  is  this  really  so?  May  not  the 
Fourth  Gospel  itself  be  the  fulfilment  of  one  of  the 
words  in  question—'  I  have  many  thin^  to  say  unto 
you,  but  ye  cannot  bear  them  now.  But  when  he 
is  come,  the  Spirit  of  truth,  he  shall  guide  you  into 
all  the  truth  :  for  he  shall  not  speak  from  himself, 
but  whatsoever  things  he  shall  hear,  these  shall 
he  speak  ...  He  shall  take  of  mine,  and  shall 
announce  it  to  you '  ( Jn  16'-').  These  words  would 
not  be  satisfied  by  a  merely  literal  reproduction  of 
wliat  Je.sus  had  uttered  :  they  imply  that  with  the 
gift  of  the  Spirit  will  come  a  profourider  insight  into 
all  that  He  had  meant,  and  ability  to  render  a  more 
adequate  testimony  to  the  truth  embodied  in  Him. 
Twice  in  the  Gospel  (2-=  12'«)  the  writer  t«lls  us 
expressly  that  after  Jesus  was  glorified  the  disciples 
remembered  incidents  in  His  career  and  saw  a 
meaning  in  them  unnoticed  at  the  time  ;  and  this 
principle  may  well  reach  further.  When  Jesus 
fed  the  multitudes.  He  did  not,  so  far  as  the  Syn- 
optics record,  say  anything  to  explain  His  act ; "all 
they  were  conscious  of  was  that  He  had  compas- 
sion on  their  hunger.  But  the  Spirit-taught 
Apostle,  long  afterwards,  saw  what  He  meant,  and 
felt  that  if  they  had  only  had  ears  to  hear  as  the 
bread  passed  from  hand  to  hand,  they  would  have 
caught  the  voice  of  Jesus — '  I  am  the  bread  of  life.' 
So  when  He  opened  the  eyes  of  the  blind,  what 
He  meant  was,  '  I  am  the  light  of  the  world ' ;  and 
when  He  raised  the  dead,  '  I  am  the  resurrection 
and  the  life.'  If  John  did  not  hear  Him  say  so  at 
the  moment,  he  heard  Him  afterwards,  and  the 
authority  of  the  words  need  not  be  less  though  we 
have  to  think  of  them  as  spoken,  not  by  the  his- 
torical Christ  in  Galilee  or  Judica,  but  by  the 
exalted  Christ  through  His  Spirit  in  the  soul  of 
the  beloved  disciple.  They  would  be  in  this  case 
a  sublime  illustration  of  what  St.  Paul  calls 
'Christ  speaking  in  me.'  The  peculiarity  that 
they  are  put  into  the  lips  of  Jesus  Himself,  in 
with  definite  scenes  and  incidents  in 


His  earthly  life,  was  possibly  quite  intelligible  to 
those  who  first  read  the  Gospel ;  they  knew  that 
it  was  a  spiritual  Gosiiel,  and  that  it  was  never 
intended  to  be  taken  as  a  literal  record  of  Jesus' 
discourses,  but  as  an  inspired  interpretation  of  all 
that  He  was  and  did.  Kead  in  this  light,  it  has 
its  authority  in  itself,  as  the  other  NT  books  have, 
and  as  Jesus  Himself  had  when  He  spoke  with 
men  face  to  face  :  and  it  is  an  authority,  as  ex- 
perience proves,  not  less  potent  than  that  which  is 
claimed  and  wielded  by  Christ  in  any  other  of 
His  witnesses.  If  we  compare  it  with  the  other 
Gospels,  which  have  in  a  higher  degree  the  char- 
acter of  literal  transcripts  of  word  and  deed,  we 
may  even  say  that  it  is  a  fulfilment  of  the  words 
found  in  the  lips  of  Jesus  in  14'-  '  He  that  be- 
lieveth  on  me,  the  works  that  I  do  shall  he  also 
do :  and  greater  works  than  these  shall  he  do ; 
because  I  go  to  the  Father.'  Faith  in  Jesus  has 
never  achieved  anything  surpassing  the  witness — 
the  true  witness  ^  of  this  Gospel  to  the  Son  of 
God.  The  final  and  supremely  authoritative  testi- 
mony to  Jesus  is  nodoul't  tliat  whieli  is  given  in 
His  Ijeing  and  in  His  woiK  in  lie-  world;  but  so 
dull  of  eye  and  slow  of  li>  .m  \\.  le  the  disciples, 
that  had 'He  put  all  the  inij.ort  ..f  I  his  into  words 
they  could  not  have  taken  it  in.     What  He  could 


AUTHORITY  IN  RELIGION 


AUTHORITY  IN  RELIGION      153 


not  say  on  earth,  however.  He  was  able  to  say  by 
His  Spirit  from  heaven  ;  and  when  that  one  of  the 
disciples  who  was  able  to  hear  puts  what  he  has 
heard  into  the  Master's  lips,  he  is  only  giving  Him 
His  own.  The  authority  of  the  word  of  Jesus 
here,  as  everywhere  in  the  NT,  lies  in  itself,  and 
in  the  fact  which  it  interprets.  It  is  an  authority 
which  lias  never  failed  to  win  recognition,  and  it 
may  be  said  of  it  with  emphasis,  '  Every  one  that 
is  of  the  truth  heareth  this  voice.' 

LiTEBiTURE.— H.  P.  Liddon,  Hampton  Lectures,  166  ff. ;  C. 
Gore,  Dampton  Lectures,  cli.  vii.  ;  A.  B.  Bruce,  Training  of 
the  Twelve,  f>mft.,  Apologetics,  492  ff.;  J.  Denney,  Studies  in 
Tkeology,  ii.,  iii.  ;  A.  Sabatier,  Religions  of  Authority  and 
Religion  of  the  Spirit,  292 ff.;  H.  H.  Henson,  Value  of  the 
Bale,  260  ff. ;  M.  Fuller,  In  Terra  Pax,  124  ff. 

James  Denney. 

AUTHORITY  IN  RELIGION.-l.  Varmis  conno- 
tations of  the  word  '  mit/writy.'— The  familiar  dis- 
tinction between  legislative,  judicial,  and  executive 
authority  is  one  that  is  not  only  convenient,  but 
rational  and  necessary.  These  several  kinds  of 
authority  differ  in  their  respective  sources  and 
appropriate  modes  of  exjiression,  and  may  differ  also 
in  their  respective  repositories.  Again,  authority 
may  be  original  or  delegated.  The  latter,  more- 
over, while  on  a  dift'erent  plane,  is  not  one  whit 
less  real  than  the  former.  And,  passing  by  other 
uses  of  the  word,  it  will  be  found  that  the  idea 
lying  at  the  heart  of  them  all  is  that  of  a  right  on 
the  part  of  somebody  to  submission  of  some  sort 
and  in  some  degree  on  the  part  of  somebody  else. 
In  other  words,  the  use  of  the  term  '  authority ' 
implies  the  existence  of  an  ethical  standard.  We 
shall  not,  therefore,  have  reached  the  ultimate 
authority  along  any  line  until  we  have  arrived  at 
this  ultimate  standard  of  right,  by  which  the  reality 
of  all  other  authorities  is  tested.  To  avoid  con- 
fusion, then,  in  considering  Christ's  teachings  re- 
garding authority  in  religion,  we  shall  have  at 
every  step  to  talie  account  of  the  particular  kind 
of  authority  then  being  dealt  with. 

2.  Christ's  conception  of  religion. — That  Christ's 
conception  of  religion  must  have  conditioned  and 
shaped  His  teachings  upon  authority  in  religion  is 
too  obvious  to  be  questioned.  Hence  we  must  at 
least  glance  at  His  conception  of  religion  ;  but  as 
this  subject  is  itself  a  large  one,  we  can  at  most 
merely  glance  at  it.  Our  Lord,  of  course,  has  no- 
where given  us  a  formal  delinition  of  religion,  nor 
has  He  anywhere  formally  discussed  its  nature. 
At  the  same  time,  few,  we  presume,  will  affirm 
that  Christ  has  left  us  wholly  at  sea  upon  such  a 
point.  By  common  consent,  religion  is  a  term  of 
relation.  For  present  purposes  we  may,  without 
unwarrantable  assumption,  say  that  the  terms  of 
this  relation  are  God  and  man.  Further,  without 
undue  assumption,  we  may  add  that  true  religion 
and  right  relation  between  God  and  man  are 
equivalent  expressions.  Our  present  question, 
then,  resolves  itself  into  this.  What,  according  to 
Christ,  are  the  essentials  of  right  relation  between 
God  and  man  ? 

Now,  for  answering  this  question,  three  state- 
ments of  our  Lord  seem  to  the  writer  to  be  of 
fundamental  importance.  (1)  The  first  of  these 
occurs  in  His  high  priestly  prayer.  '  This,'  says 
He,  'is  eternal  life,  that  they  should  know  thee 
the  only  true  God,  and  him  whom  thou  didst  send, 
even  Jesus  Christ '  (Jn  17^).  Here  the  last  clause 
may  be  an  epexegetical  addition  of  the  Evangelist 
himself.  With  this  statement  naturally  associate 
themselves,  among  others,  those  in  Jn  10'"  W-,  Mt 
11'-''.  Now,  certainly  no  one  will  even  for  a  moment 
suppose  that  our  Lord  here  lends  any  countenance 
to  anything  that  can  properly  be  called  intel- 
leetualism.  And  yet  it  would  be  violent  exegesis 
indeed  that  eradicated  from  His  words  the  idea 
that  right  relations  to  God  invariably  imply,  and 


ground  themselves  on,  right  conceptions  of  God. 
On  any  other  view,  what  would  be  the  propriety 
of  the  pronoun  'thee,'  which  certainly  singles  out 
from  all  other  possible  individuals  or 'entities  Him 
in  the  knowledge  of  whom  Christ  declares  that 
'  eternal  life '  consists  ?  If  right  conceptions  of  God 
are  not  essential  to  right  relation  between  God  and 
man,  where,  again,  would  be  the  propriety  of  the 
^^■ords  '  the  only  true,'  and  the  emphasis  evidently 
centred  ujion  them  ?  (cf.  also  Mt  11-''). 

(2)  A  second  passage  of  fundamental  significance 
for  Christ's  conception  of  religion  is  Mt  22""'- 1|  Mk 
12".8ii.  -xhou  Shalt  love  the  Lord  thy  God,  etc. 
Thou  shalt  love  thy  neighbour  as  thyself,  etc. 
On  these  two  commandments  hangeth  the  whole 
law  and  the  prophets.'  But  that,  according  to  the 
teaching  of  Christ,  there  is  an  emotional  element 
in  religion,  is  so  generally  recognized  that  it  would 
be  superfluous  to  multiply  references,  especially 
in  such  an  incidental  treatment  of  the  subject  as 
the  present. 

(3)  The  third  passage  that  may  be  regarded  as 
fundamental  for  our  Lord's  conception  of  religion 
is  Mt  7-'  '  Not  every  one  that  saitli  unto  me. 
Lord,  Lord,  shall  enter  into  the  kingdom  of  heaven  ; 
but  he  that  doeth  tlie  %\ill  of  my  Katlier  which  is 
in  heaven.'  This,  like  the  last  jjassage  cited,  is 
typical.  It  represents  a  group  of  statements  tliat 
need  not  be  reproduced  here. 

While,  therefore,  the  hrst  of  these  three  great 
passages  implicates  man's  understanding  in  re- 
ligion, and  the  second  his  eniutious,  this  last 
implicates  his  will,  as  cdiitrnlliuL;  liis  ruiuhu-t  and 
finding  its  legitimate  exprussKiu'thioiii^li  it. 

What  may  be  called,  tlicii,  a  inialitiitive  analysis 
of  Christ's  conception  of  religion  reveals  the  fact, 
that  it  contains  this  trinity  of  elements  bound 
together  in  the  indissoluble  unity  of  the  rational 
soul.  Were  any  of  them  totally  lacking,  there 
would  be  no  real  religion.  On  the  other  hand, 
the  necessary  interrelation  and  interaction  between 
them  are  recognized  by  Christ  in  such  declarations 
as,  'If  any  man  willeth  to  do  his  will,  he  shall 
know  of  the  teaching  whether  it  be  of  God,  or 
whether  I  speak  from  myself  (Jn  7") ;  '  How  can 
ye  believe  which  receive  glory  one  of  another,  and 
the  glory  that  cometh  from  the  only  God  ye  seek 
not '  ( Jn  5^^) ;  '  While  ye  have  the  light,  believe 
on  the  light,  that  ye  may  become  sons  of  light' 
(Jn  12^").  Such  is  the  essential  unity  of  the  soul, 
that  it  cannot  experience  depravation  in  one  of  its 
functions  without  all  of  the  others  being  more  or 
less  afl'ected  thereby. 

While,  however,  we  can  with  a  measure  both  of 
ease  and  of  certainty  make  what  we  have  ventured 
to  call  a  qualitative  analysis  of  Christ's  conception 
of  religion,  it  would  not  be  so  easy  to  arrive  at 
a  quantitative  analysis  of  it,  and  say  just  how 
much  knowledge,  how  much  emotion,  and  how 
much  volitional  activity  must  be  present  in  order 
to  the  existence  in  the  soul  of  any  real  religion. 
Indeed,  it  is  hard  to  conceive  of  Christ  as  elaborat- 
ing any  views  upon  such  a  subject.  We  may  re- 
frain, then,  from  pressing  our  investigation  into 
what  would  only  be  a  region  of  arid  and  empty 
speculation.  Itisenousli.  if  it  lias  been  shown  that 
Christ's  conception  of  rdi-icn  in  i.^^nizcs  the  essen- 
tial unity  of  the  .soul,  nml  iii\iihr,  us  right  rela- 
tion to  God  in  all  its  .scnii;il  |ii>uiis  or  functions. 
To  this  conception  His  tcauhiiij^s  i  tj;arding  author- 
ity in  religion  will  be  found  to  conform.  See, 
further,  art.  Religion. 

i.  Chrlst's  teaching  as   to  the  ultimate 

STANDARD  OF  RIGHT,  AND  THE  ULTIMATE  SOURCE 

OF  RIGHTS. — Obviously  we  need  not  expect  to  find 
Christ  dealing  with  the  ultimate  standard  of  right 
under  the  forms  of  Western  dialectics,  or  in  the 
abstract  terms  of  philosophy.     At  the  same  time, 


154       AUTHORITY  IN  RELIGION 


AUTHORITY  IN  RELIGION 


we  need  not  despair  of  obtaining  some  insight  into 
His  mind  even  upon  this  miestion.  For  one  thing, 
His  mode  of  addressing  His  Father  is  significant. 
Especially  is  it  so  when  we  take  into  account 
the  circumstances  under  whicli  it  was  employed. 
'  Holy  Father,'  He  says  in  His  intercessory  prayer  ; 
and  again,  'O  righteous  Father.'  Now,  under  the 
circumstances,  this  language  is  more,  far  more, 
than  the  ascription  to  His  Father  of  the  possession 
of  the  qualities  expressed  by  the  words  'holy  '  and 
'  righteous.'  For  we  must  not  forget  that  Christ's 
intercessory  prayer  was  oft'ered  at  the  very  crisis 
of  His  career.  We  cannot  pretend  to  fatliom  the 
experiences  of  His  soul  in  that  hour.  The  prayer 
itself,  however,  as  recorded  in  Jn  17,  is  tense  w'ith 
the  emotions  that  wrought  in  our  Lord's  soul  a.s 
He  poured  it  forth.  He  was,  so  to  speak,  getting 
His  footing  as  the  floods  of  great  waters  gathered 
around  Him  in  their  mysterious  energy.  And  the 
bed-rock  upon  wliich  He  plants  Himself  is  one  lying 
out  of  sight  so  far  as  the  visible  providence  of  God 
is  concerned.  He  assures  Himself  of  its  existence 
as  a  reality  by  turning  away  from  what  is  taking 
place  under  the  providence  of  God,  and  fixing  His 
mind  upon  tlie  nature  of  God.  God's  nature  is 
His  voucher  for  the  righteousness  of  the  course  of 
God's  providence  towards  Himself.  In  the  time  of 
stress  that  was  upon  Him,  He  fixes  His  eye  upon 
God's  holiness  and  righteousness  as  His  .sole  but 
sufficient  guarantee  for  the  existence  of  the  quali- 
ties for  which  these  words  stand. 

But,  further,  that  Christ  found  the  ultimate 
standard  of  right  in  God's  nature  as  expressed 
through  God's  will,  is  clear  also  from  such  state- 
ments as  these:  'Now  is  my  soul  troubled;  and 
what  shall  I  say  ?  Father,  save  me  from  tliis  hour  ? 
but  for  this  cause  came  I  unto  this  hour.  Father, 
glorify  thy  name '  (Jn  12'"'-).  Here,  it  will  be  seen, 
our  Lord  places  Himself  absolutely  at  the  disposal 
of  the  Divine  will.  But  this  would  have  been  sheer 
moral  insanity,  unless  God's  nature  contained  the 
final  norm  of  righteousness.  And  tliis  language  is 
by  no  means  exceptional ;  for,  as  all  know,  the 
Gospel  of  John  abounds  with  expressions  of  Christ 
making  the  will  of  God  tlie  standard  to  wliich 
everything  is  to  be  referred  {e.ff.  4^  5™  6^').  Nor 
is  the  case  different  when  we  turn  to  the  Synoptics 
(cf.  Mt  5^6'"  11-"-,  Lk  22^-).  All  these  passages 
and  others  leave  no  room  to  doubt  that  Christ 
taught  that  the  nature  of  God,  as  finding  expres- 
sion through  His  will,  is  the  ultimate  standard  of 
right. 

And  as,  for  Christ,  God's  nature  is  the  ultimate 
norm  of  right,  so  for  Him  God's  will  is  the  fountain 
and  source  of  all  particular  rights.  Wherever  there 
exists  a  right  upon  the  part  of  anybody  to  sub- 
mission of  any  kind  or  degree  from  anybody  else, 
such  right  exists  in  virtue  of  God's  ordering,  and 
is  delimited  by  God's  will.  These  statements,  it 
seems  to  us,  are  involved  in  the  passages  already 
cited.  All  authority,  in  other  words,  is  simply 
author-ity  writ  short  and  differently  pronounced. 
A  free  creature,  like  man,  may  be,  in  a  limited 
sense,  an  original  source  of  power,  but  never  of 
rights.  His  rights  are  all  derived  from,  and  bear  the 
stamp  of,  the  author  of  his  being.  Not  only  the 
primary  and  all-comprehending  dependence,  but 
all  subordinate  dependences  and  interdependences 
ground  themselves  ultimately  on  the  relation  that 
subsists  between  the  Creator,  as  Creator,  and  the 
creature,  as  creature. 

ii.  Legislative  authority  in  religio.v.  —  1. 
Term  defined. — What  we  have  called  legislative 
authority  is  concerned  primarily  with  diiti/.  Its 
prescriptions,  while  mediated,  at  least  so  far  as  the 
knowledge  of  them  goes,  through  the  understand- 
ing, terminate  upon  the  conscience  and  the  will.  It 
is  the  right  to  require  or  to  forbid.     It  is  the  right 


to  establish  relations  and  define  the  duties  or  the 
privileges  attaching  to  them.  It  is  the  first  and 
most  fundamental  form  of  authority,  cleaving 
closest  to  the  etymological  and  logical  sense  of 
the  word,  which  as  already  noted  is  simply  author- 
ity. Legislative  authority  is  really  or  approxi- 
mately a  creative  function.  In  the  case  of  God, 
of  course,  it  is  really  creative.  Behind  it  lies  only 
the  Divine  nature,  which  alone  conditions  and 
regulates  its  exercise.  From  it  arise  all  the  re- 
lations of  the  creature  to  the  Creator,  and  to  his 
fellow  -  creatures,  Avith  the  duties  and  the  privi- 
leges that  inhere  in  them,  or  that,  in  the  wisdom 
of  God,  are,  from  time  to  time  and  under  the  par- 
ticular circumstances,  attached  to  them. 

Now,  according  to  our  Lord's  teachino;,  all  legis- 
lative authority  in  religion  vests  exclusively  in 
God.  He  represents  God  as  in  the  most  absolute 
sense  '  Lord  of  the  conscience.'  To  Him  it  belongs 
to  say,  '  Thou  shalt,'  and  to  Him  also  to  say, 
'  Thou  shalt  not.'  As  He  has  determined  the  re- 
lations between  Himself  and  His  creatures  ( '  Father, 
Lord  of  heaven  and  earth,'  Mt  11"  ;  cf.  also  19^), 
it  is  for  Him  to  define  the  duties  emerging  from 
those  relations. 

2.  If,  now,  we  pass  to  Christ's  teaching  as  to  how 
this  legislative  authority  belonging  exclusively  to 
God  comes  to  expression,  we  find— (1)  That  our 
Lord  is  wholly  silent  as  to  the  manifestation  of 
God's  legislative  authority  in  what  we  call  'the 
laws  of  nature,'  using  this  phrase  so  as  to  include 
not  only  the  laws  of  matter,  but  of  mind  as  well, 
and  also  so  as  to  include  what  St.  Paul  calls  '  the 
law  written  in  the  heart.'  For  instance,  nowhere 
does  He  directly  advert  to  '  the  ordinance  of  heaven' 
(Jer  31^'-,  Job  38'')  as  an  expression  of  the  Divine 
will  ;  nowhere  does  He  refer  His  hearers  to  the 
constitution  of  their  own  nature,  physical,  mental, 
or  moral,  as  embodying  an  expression  of  the  Divine 
will  regarding  this  or  that.  There  is,  it  may  be, 
the  glimmer  of  such  a  reference  in  passages  like 
Jn  lO''""-,  Mt  10=«'-,  but  it  is  at  most  a  glimmer, 
and  need  not  detain  us. 

(2)  But  that  the  legislative  authority  of  God  is 
exercised  mediately  as  well  as  immediately  is  also 
taught  by  Christ,  (n)  Thus  the  i}rccepiivc])ortions 
of  the  OT,  though  mediated  by  '  NIoses  and  the 
prophets,'  are  really  '  the  commandments  of  God.' 
Moses  and  the  prophets,  quoad  this  matter,  are,  so 
to  speak,  merely  the  heralds  of  the  '  Great  King,' 
or,  to  borrow  an  OT  account  of  the  relation  be- 
tween the  prophet  and  God,  the  former  is  the 
'  mouth  •  of  the  latter  (Ex  4"',  cf.  V].  And  so, 
while  'Moses  said.  Honour  thy  father  and  thy 
mother'  (Mk  7'"),  this  is  still  for  Christ  'the  com- 
mandment of  God.'  Further,  that  '  the  law  of 
Moses '  was  for  Him  the  law  of  God  appears  from 
the  fact  that,  when  He  was  Himself  tempted,  and 
had  to  choose  between  two  courses,  what  was 
written  in  Deuteronomy  prescribed  for  Him  the 
path  of  duty  (Mt  4-'- '•  >»• ").  In  the  parable  of 
Dives  and  Lazarus,  our  Lord  puts  these  very  sig- 
nificant words  into  the  mouth  of  Abraham,  '  They 
have  Moses  and  the  prophets ;  let  them  hear 
them '  (Lk  16=»).  The  law  in  Nu  2S'- "  (or  per- 
haps in  1  Ch  9'^),  according  to  which  '  the  priests 
in  the  temple  profane '  (ironical  thrust  at  His  ad- 
versaries) '  the  Sabbath  and  are  guiltless  '  (Mt  12*), 
was  for  Christ  determinative  of  duty  and  of  privi- 
lege. Indeed,  He  virtually  puts  it  upon  the  same 
plane  for  authority  as  the  primary  intuition  and 
verdict  of  conscience,  namely,  that  '  it  is  lawful  to 
do  good— on  the  Sabbath  day  '  (Mt  12'^).  Further, 
Christ's  summaries  of  '  the  law  and  the  prophets ' 
(Mt  7'-  22'"'-)  bear  impressive  testimony  to  the 
fact  that  He  regarded  the  whole  preceptive  por- 
tion of  the  OT  as  an  expression  of  the  will  of  God. 
'  ^Vhatsoever  ye  would  that  men  should  do  tn  you. 


AUTHORITY  IN  RELIGION 


AUTHORITY  IN  RELIGION       155 


even  so  do  ye  also  unto  them,'  is,  according  to 
our  Lord,  but  a  just  summary  of  '  the  law  and 
the  proijhets '  in  terms  that  may  lie  appreciated 
by  the  moral  sense  of  all  men.  He  teaches  that 
the  whole  OT,  so  far  as  it  has  to  do  witli  duty 
towards  man,  is  but  an  unfolding,  in  relation  to 
this  or  that  set  of  circumstances,  of  the  '  Golden 
Rule,'  whose  Divine  origin  and  authority  are  self- 
evidencing  (cf.  Mk  1228f-). 

(b)  Whetlier  Christ  represents  the  Apostles  also 
as  organs  through  whom  God  exercises  His  legis- 
lative authority  is,  perhaps,  not  quite  so  clear. 
Doubtless  they  were.  But  even  passages  such  as 
Mt  102»  16i»,  Jn  20^3  W^  may  refer  to  a  grant  of 
judicial  rather  than  of  strictly  legislative  authority. 
The  authority  conferred  in  these  passages  is,  in- 
deed, large  and  significant,  but  none  of  them  neces- 
sarily implies  that  the  Apostles  were  to  be  organs 
through  whom  God  would  make  substantive  addi- 
tions to  the  commands  laid  upon  the  human  con- 
science. Nor  has  the  writer  been  able  to  satisfy 
himself  that  Christ  anywhere  uses  of  them  lan- 
guage either  demanding,  or  even  susceptible  of 
such  an  interpretation.  In  other  words,  while  he 
thinks  it  unquestionable  that  the  Apostles  were 
media  through  whom  God  exercised  His  legislative 
authority,  he  is  of  opinion  that  we  have  to  go 
outside  of  the  Gospels  for  the  evidence  of  this 
fact. 

(c)  With  Christ  Himsdf,  however,  the  case  is 
different.  No  doubt  much  of  the  aiithority  we 
find  Him  using  in  the  Gospels  is  judicial  and  not 
legislative.  At  the  same  time,  intermingled  with 
His  judicial  expositions  of  the  law  of  God,  we  hear 
Him  lay  His  own  commands  upon  the  conscience. 
Not  only  does  He  declare  what  is  the  Law,  and 
what  its  meaning  (see  above),  but  He  enunciates 
many  specific  precepts  that  stand  related  to  His 
comprehensive  summaries  very  much  as  the 
statutes  of  the  land  stand  related  to  its  constitu- 
tion. 


treasures  \ 
i  holy  \ 
your  pearls  before  the  swine,'  etc.  (Mt  71>)  ; 


1  upon  earth,"  etc.  (Mt 
:  unto  the  dogs,  neither  cast 
'  Love  your  enemies, 
do  good  to  them  that  hate  you,"  etc.  (Lk  62?)  ;  '  Repent  ye,  and 
believe  in  the  gospel "  (Mk  116)— will  gerve  as  samples.  Very 
significant  for  Chnst"s  claims  to  be  a  special  organ  of  the  legis- 
lative authority  of  the  Godhead  is  such  a  statement  as,  'The 
Son  of  man  is  Lord  of  the  Sabbath "  (Mt  128),  and  equally  so 
this  other,  '  Ye  call  me  Teacher  and  Lord  :  and  ye  say  well ;  for 
so  I  am '  (Jn  1313).  In  both  these  instances  i't  is  clear  that 
Christ  asserts  for  Himself  an  authority  going  beyond  any  that 
can  with  propriety  be  considered  as  merely  judicial.  The 
'  Lord "  is  a  giver  of  law,  not  simply  its  interpreter.  The 
conclusion  fol' —  -  -         .. 


atlirmei 


more  stringently,  perhaps,  when  our 
Lord  says,  '  I  and  the  Father  are  one,"  thereby,  as  the  Jews 
ned,  and  He  Himself  did  not  deny,  *  making  himself  (thy- 
self) equal  with  God  "  (Jn  1030,  cf.  1033,  Mt  IV"- »  note  the  word 
'  yoke  •).  And,  finally,  here  we  must  not  overlook  Mt  28181>  'AH 
authority  is  given  to  me  in  heaven  and  on  earth,"  which  cer- 
tainly constitutes  a  claim  comprehensive  enough  to  include  the 
See  preceding 


prescribe  laws  to  the  conscience. 


(3)  But  to  say  that  Christ  teaches  that  all  legis- 
lative authority  in  religion  vests  exclusively  in 
God,  is  hardly  to  put  the  case  either  as  fully  or  as 
strongly  as  it  needs  to  be  put.  For  not  only  does 
our  Lord  represent  God  as  '  Lord  of  the  conscience,' 
but  witli  equal  emphasis  and  great  explicitness  He 
teaches  that  '  God  alone  is  Lord  of  tlie  conscience, 
and  hath  left  it  free  from  the  doctrines  and  com- 
mandments of  men  which  are  in  anything  contrary 
to  His  word,  or  beside  it  in  matters  of '  religious 
truth  and  duty.  (For  the  purposes  of  this  article 
'  His  word  '  here  may  be  taken  quite  broadly  for 
any  form  in  which  God  has  made  His  will  known). 

This  explains  His  word  at  the  baptism,  when  the  Baptist 
'would  have  hindered  him,"  and  He  said,  'Suffer  it  now  :  for 
thus  It  becometh  us  to  fulfil  all  righteousness'  (Mt  315).  go 
He  denies  to  the  human  reason  the  prerogative,  by 


the  same  time  sets  the  seal  of  His  disapprobation  upon  all 
man-devisedlsubstitutions  for,  or  modifications  of.  Divine  ordi- 
nances. These  are  all  either  acts  of  open  rebellion,  or  well 
meant  but  real  usurpations  of  legislative  functions  pertaining 
exclusively  to  God.  The  same  view  finds  yet  more  palpabll 
and  pungent  expression  in  His  rebuke  to  the  Pharisees  (Mk 
TOff).  And,  as  is  well  known,  it  was  His  resistance  in  word  and 
deed  to  the  traditions  of  the  elders  regarding  the  Sabbath— 
these  being  'beside"  God's  word  — that  earned  for  Him,  with 
the  Pharisees,  the  odium  of  being  Himself  a  Sabbath-breaker 
(Jn  6,  Mt  12,  Mk  3). 

Indeed,  at  the  beginning  of  His  Galitean  ministry, 
our  Lord  is  careful  to  disclaim,  even  for  Himself, 
either  purpose  or  authori^  to  disannul  any  of 
God's  commandments.  '  Think  not,'  said  He, 
'  that  I  am  come  to  destroy  the  law  or  the  pro- 
phets :  I  came  not  to  destroy,  but  to  fulfil '  (Mt 
5").  See,  further,  article  Commandment,  below. 
Thus  He,  as  it  were,  anticipated  and  forestalled 
the  malice  of  His  own,  and  the  mistaken  zeal 
of  a  later  day.  The  former  made  it  a  charge 
against  Him  that  He  taught  contrary  to  Moses 
and  the  prophets  ;  and  the  latter,  strangely  enough, 
has  supposed  that  it  honours  Him  by  .affirming  the 
same.  And,  lofty  as  were  the  claims  that  He  made 
for  Himself,  Christ  still  impressed  it  upon  His 
hearers  that  He  not  only  did  not  assume  to  lay 
upon  them  anything  contrary  to  God's  revealed 
will  but  that  He  taught,  and  could  teach  nothing 
that  was  '  beside '  that  will  (Jn  5^",  cf.  5'^  S-^'-). 
And  that  nothing  '  contrary  to  or  beside '  the 
Scriptures  correctly  interpreted  was  to  be  toler- 
ated, is  abundantly  evident  from  the  finality 
attached  to  them  in  all  Christ's  appeals  to  the 
OT.  For  Him  its  declarations  were  an  end  of 
controversy  (Mt  22'^  19"  123'r-,  Jn  W% 

iii.  Judicial  authority  in  religion.  —  1. 
Term  defined.— An  legislative  authority  has  par- 
ticularly to  do  with  duty,  so  judicial  authority 
has  particularly  to  do  with  triith :  the  former 
prescribes  what  one  is  to  do  or  to  be  ;  the  latter, 
what  he  is  to  believe :  the  former  creates  and 
defines  relation  and  obligations  ;  the  latter  declares 
and  interprets  them :  the  former  is  mainly  con- 
cerned with  the  conscience ;  the  latter,  with  the 
understanding.  It  is  worth  noting  further  that 
legislative  differs  from  judicial  authority  in  that 
the  former  is  original  and  the  latter  derivative. 
Legislative  authority,  along  with  other  things, 
prescribes  who  is  to  interpret  the  laws  it  makes, 
and  how  much  of  finality  shall  attach  to  their 
interpretation  by  diff'erent  persons.  At  the  same 
time,  we  should  not  overlook  the  fact  that  the 
most  limited  judicial  authority,  so  far  as  it  goes, 
is  no  less  real  than  the  most  absolute.  Further, 
judicial  authority,  though  derived,  is  just  as  real 
authority  as  is  legislative  authority.  And,  finally, 
when  the  judicial  function  vests  in  the  same 
person  as  the  legislative,  then  the  maxim,  '  The 
interpretation  of  the  law  is  the  law,'  receives  its 
highest  exemplification  ;  for  then  the  law  and  the 
interpretation  of  the  law  are  but  different  modal 
manifestations  of  one  and  the  same  personal  will 
or  a^lthor■ity.  For,  in  this  case,  the  same  char- 
acter that  guarantees  to  the  conscience  the  right- 
eousness of  the  relation  or  obligation  created  by 
tlie  will  of  the  lawgiver,  guarantees  also  to  the 
understanding  the  truth  of  the  finding  of  the 
judge.  And  this,  be  it  observed,  is  precisely  the 
function  of  judicial  authority,  namely,  not  to 
create  a  right,  not  to  make  an  idea  correspond 
with  reality,  but  to  certify  to  the  understanding 
the  existence  or  non-existence  of  a  right,  the  truth 
or  the  falsity  of  an  idea  or  a  statement.  The  vital 
lortance  of  this  distinction  will  appear  more 
more  as  the  discussion  proceeds. 

2.  Repositories. — As  to  judicial  authority,  our 
Lord  teaches  that  it  is  distributed  among  a 
number  of  repositories,  somewhat  as  the  same 
kind  of  authority  in  a  modern  State  is  distributed 


nno 
nd  I 


156      AUTHOEITY  IN  RELIGION 


AUTHORITY  IN  RELIGION 


among  a  number  of  courts  from  the  lowest  to  the 
highest. 

In  the  case  of  such  courts,  no  one  thinks  o(  denying  to  the 
least  and  lowest  of  them  the  charar-ter  of  a  true  court.  Its 
jurisdiction  may  be  limited,  it's  .(.•.■i^in-..-  ih'>l-  In  r.-.-.-viiI.  but 
so  long  as  it  keeps  within  its  jm  i-l)'  1 1  n,  ..  :  >h  ■  -  i  Im  ,ipji,-al 
from  its  decisions  is  pending,  i         .       ■  .  n-al 

but  as  absolute  as  that  of  tt.  i     i       r.  i  \eu 

the  lowest  court  possesses  a  uihumi-  iml'  p-  nl.  ih  -  :  ii^  iniMiiijns 
cannot  be  discharged  for  it,  iioi  i.u.  Un.v  i.i- unolid  Hum  it  by 
anv  other  court.  Further  still,  it  is  fur  eacli  i.ourt,  at  least  in 
the  first  instance,  to  interpret  and  declare  the  law  by  which 
it  was  created,  and  its  duties  and  prerogatives  under  the  law. 
Nor  does  the  fact  that  it  may  err  in  the  exercise  of  this  right 
either  nullify  or  invalidate  the  right  itself.  We  elaborate  this 
analogy  thus  in  detail,  because  we  believe  that  it  will  prove 
helpful  in  enabling  us  to  understand  our  Lord's  teachings  con- 
cerning judicial  authority  in  the  sphere  of  religion. 

Proceeding  now  to  note  His  distribution  itself, 
we  find  that  He  accords  the  fullest  recognition  (1) 
to  what  is  commonly  known  as  the  right  of  private 
judgment.  For  Him  each  individual  is  clothed 
with  a  large,  though  not  an  absolute  or  final, 
judicial  authority.  Indeed,  it  is  safe  to  say  that 
no  one  has  surpassed  Christ  in  the  honour,  and 
even — if  such  words  may  be  used  of  Him — in  the 
deference  with  which  in  practice  He  treated  the 
judicial  rights  of  the  darkest  and  humblest  human 
souls.  Despite  the  supreme  claims  that  He  made 
for  Himself,  He  habitually  permitted  both  Himself 
and  His  claims  to  be  put  upon  proof  at  the  bar  of 
such  souls.  Not  only  did  He  consent,  like  any 
other  man  of  His  day,  to  plead  at  the  bar  of  the 
ecclesiastical  and  civil  authorities,  but,  while  He 
always  spake  as  one  having  authority,  He  never 
failed  to  submit  His  credentials  along  with  His 
claims  at  the  bar  of  the  individual  reason  and  con- 
science.    But  here  we  must  particularize. 

Christ  taught,  then,  (a)  That  it  is  the  inalien- 
able prerogative  of  every  man  to  verify  for  himself 
the  truth  of  a  proposition  before  assenting  to  it  as 
true  ;  and  to  verify  for  himself  the  rectitude  of  a 
command  before  yielding  obedience  to  it  as  right 
(cf.  Jn  \5-\  Mt  16^  II'"'-  9«  11=°). 

(b)  Further,  as  is  involved  in  what  has  been 
already  said,  Christ  teaches  that  the  conclusions 
reached  in  the  exercise  of  this  prerogative  are  not 
to  be,  if,  indeed,  we  should  not  say  ccmnot  be, 
dictated  by  any  form  of  external  compulsion.  In 
many  ways  He  emphasizes  the  position  that  the 
individual  is  to  be  left  wholly  untrammelled  in 
the  exercise  of  his  judicial  rights.  What  else, 
after  all,  is  the  meaning  of  His  words  to  Pilate, 
'  My  kingdom  is  not  of  this  world  :  if  my  kingdom 
were  of  this  world,  then  would  ray  servants  light, 
that  I  should  not  be  delivered  to  the  Jews  :  but 
now  is  my  kingdom  not  from  hence  '  ( Jn  18^")  ?  If 
men  were  to  be  left  free  to  deal  with  His  own 
claims,  including,  of  course.  His  teachings,  with- 
out constraint  or  compulsion  of  any  kind,  and  to 
do  this  even  when  the  decision  reached  afl'ected 
not  only  His  liberty  but  His  very  life,  certainly 
He  would  have  them  no  less  untrammelled  in 
dealing  with  every  other  question  of  truth  or  of 
duty  with  which  they  might  find  themselves  con- 
fronted. Nor  was  it  only  the  compulsion  of 
force  that  Christ  declined  to  countenance. 

'  set  the  seal  of  His  disapproval  uuon  the  more 
subtle  and  spiritual,  but  no  less  real  compulsion 
of  a  tyrannical  public  or  ecclesiastical  opinion, 
whether  formulated  into  a  tradition  or  into  a 
usage. 

His '  Do  not  your  alms  before  men,  to  be  seen  of  them '  (Mt  61), 
was  designed  hardly  more  to  eradicate  pride  from  the  souls  of 
His  disciples,  than  it  was  to  hearten  them  to  throw  off  the 
incubus  of  a  perverted  public  and  ecclpsiastical  sentiment 
which  threatened  to  stiHe  Cliristiiin  hinuilitv  ami  liodwardn.ss 

in  their  very  birth      i'    ■     ■    '■'  <!■-' :iMii  ill    ii -'lU  ^i'  i 

disciples  from  all  i     : 

spirit  in  its  quest  i   i    i  i 


physical  i 
He  set  th 


((■)  If  what  has  been  said  be  true,  we  are  not 
.surprised  to  find  Christ  teaching  that  every  mind 
is  equipped  for  the  exercise  of  this  high  preroga- 
tive, that  in  a  certain  very  true  sense  the  mind  has 
'  the  supreme  norm  of  its  ideas  and  acts,  not  out- 
side of  itself,  but  within  itself,  in  its  very  con- 
stitution' (Sabatier,  Religions  of  Authority,  p.  xvi). 

This  also  is  involved  in  the  passages  already  quoted.  And 
what  else  can  we  make  of  such  statements  as  these  :  '  Ought 
not  this  woman,  being  a  daughter  of  Abraham,  whom  Satan 
hath  bound,  lo,  these  eighteen  years,  to  be  loosed  from  this  bond 
on  the  day  of  the  Sabbath  '  (Lk  1316)  ?  Where  would  have  been 
the  use  of  submitting  such  a  case  to  '  the  stupid  country  archi- 
^Itnagogos '  (Edersheim),  unless,  stupid  as  he  was,  even  he  was 
so  equipped  as  to  be  able  to  subject  it  to  some  sort  of  process  of 
'  inner  verification'?  Or,  take  the  question  put  to  the  disciples, 
'  Wlio  do  the  multitudes  s,ay  that  I  am?'  and  what  propriety 
would  there  be  in  it,  unless  it  carried  with  it  the  implication 
that  men  generally — 'the  multitudes'— were  equipped  for  the 
forming  of  a  rational  judgment  upon  the  truth  and  righteous- 
ness of  His  claims,  and  ha^  some  touchstone  each  within  him- 
self by  which  he  could  determine  the  truth  or  falsity  of  those 
claims,  and  the  moral  quality  of  the  character  and  of  the 
teachings  that  lay  behind  them  ?  The  possession  of  such  anorm 
is  involved  in  every  argument  framed,  in  every  appeal  made, 
and  in  every  rebuke  adininistered  by  Christ. 

Not  only  does  Christ  recognize  in  every  man  the 
existence  of  such  a  norm,  but  He  goes  farther,  and 
shows  that  He  regards  tliis  norm  as  '  supreme, '  in 
the  sense,  at  least,  that  for  the  individual  man 
there  is  no  standard  of  truth  or  of  right  more  ' 
ultimate  than  that  embedded  in  his  very  constitu- 
tion. Nothing  can  be  substituted  for  it.  Nothing 
can  be  used  to  supplement  or  to  correct  it.  No 
appeal  lies  from  it.  Man  has  nought  that  he  can 
do  but  to  abide  by  the  decisions  reached  in  the  use 
of  it.  '  If  ye  believe  not  that  I  am  he,  ye  shall  die 
in  your  sins '  ( Jn  8-'')  is  no  arbitrary  sentence ;  but 
simply  the  announcement  of  the  momentous  truth, 
that  the  beliefs  or  unbeliefs  of  those  whom  He 
addressed  would  involve  certain  consequences  for 
them,  precisely  because  those  beliefs  or  unbeliefs 
were  theirs.  Christ  does  not  teach,  of  course,  that 
men  can  make  or  unmake  truth  or  riglit  for  them- 
selves any  more  than  for  others.  But  He  does 
teach  that  the  conclusions  that  men  reach  in  the 
use  of  the  norm  that  is  embedded  in  the  very 
constitution  of  the  mind  are  for  them  severally 
and  individually  final.  It  is  this  fact  tliat  con- 
stitutes the  very  heart  of  the  solemnity  of  His 
words,  when  He  says,  '  If  the  light  that  is  in  thee 
be  darkness,  how  .u'lcat  is  that  darkness'  (Mt  6=»). 
The  liglit  that  is  in  a  man  is  the  only  light  that  is 
available  for  him.  It  is  the  light  in  which  he  sees 
light.  It  cannot  itself  be  tested,  so  far,  at  least, 
as  the  user  of  it  is  concerned,  by  any  other  light 
(cf.  also  Mt  13^  and  the  principle  laid  down  in 
Ro  14*'). 

(d)  Christ,  moreover,  is  equally  clear  in  teaching 
that  in  the  proper  use  of  the  equipment  given 
them,  men  may  and  always  will  arrive  at  correct 
judgments  in  regard  both  to  truth  and  to  duty — 
that  is,  in  all  cases  and  as  regards  all  matters  in 
reference  to  which  they  are  called  upon,  or  indeed 
are  entitled,  to  form  judgments.  He  recognizes,  to 
be  sure,  the  sad  fact  that  men  not  only  may,  but  as 
a  matter  of  fact  often  do,  give  hospitable  entertain- 
ment both  to  error  and  to  evil.  He  is  very  em- 
phatic, however,  in  asserting  that  this  is  their 
fault,  and  in  no  sense  their  misfortune.  Whatever 
the  difficulties  of  the  teaching,  they  need  not  leave 
the  soul  in  error  or  even  in  doubt.  '  If  any  man 
willeth  to  do  his  will,'  says  our  Lord,  'he  shall 
know  of  the  teaching,  whether  it  be  of  God,  or 
whether  I  speak  from  myself  (Jn  7"). 

.Any  account  of  Christ's  teachings  as  to  the  judicial  authority 


;  for  a  detailed 


AUTHORITY  IN  RELIGION- 


AUTHORITY  IN  RELIGION      157 


God  for  which  men  are  wholly  dependent  upon  Christ.  Again, 
it  is  evident  from  Jii  149i>.  that  whatever  other  elements  this 
knowledge  of  God  contains,  it  is  a  knowledge  that  is  mediated 
through  the  understanding.  '  He  that  hath  seen  me,"  says  our 
Lord,  'hath  seen  the  Father.'  Tlie  same  conclusion  follows 
inevitabl.v  from  the  great  emphasis  which  Christ  laid  upon 
His  teaching  function.  But  how  is  a  man  to  test  the  correct- 
ness of  propositions  for  the  very  knowledge  of  the  contents 
of  which,  and  much  more  for  their  accuracy,  he  is  ex  hypothesi 
wholly  dependent  upon  Christ?  We  have  said  that  Christ 
teaches  that  it  is  the  prerogative  of  every  man  to  bring 
every  proposition,  to  the  truth  of  which  he  is  expected  to 
assent,  to  some  sort  of  process  of  '  inner  verification  ' ;  but  here 
are  matters  which,  ex  hyimthcsi,  men  must  accept  upon  testi- 
mony, albeit  it  is  the  testimony  of  no  less  a  witness  than  Christ 
Himself.  Have  we  here,  then,  an  inconsistency  in  Christ's 
teaching?    We  think  not.     We  test 


ourselves  that  the  laws  of  its  structure  are  the  ! 
that  obtain  in  the  structure  of  the  eye  itself.  It  i£ 
an  organ  of  vision  as  is  the  eye  itself,  though,  of  course,  an 
organ  of  vastly  greater  range.  What  it  discloses  to  us  we  could 
not  apprehend  without  it.  Much  that  it  discloses  to  us,  we 
either  only  gradually  come  to  comprehend,  or  find  to  be  at 
present  incomprehensible  to  us.  But  whether  we  comprehend 
what  we  apprehend  through  the  telescope  or  not,  we  accept  its 
disclosures,  and  at  least  refer  them  to  the  large  and  vague 
category  of  what  we  call  facts  of  existence,  and  wait  expecting 
to  be  able  to  make  a  closer  classification  with  our  advancing 
knowledge,  or  the  further  development  of  our  powers.  And, 
while  we  never  reach  the  point  where  we  are  able  with  our  own 
eyes  to  verify  the  facts  given  us  through  the  telescope,  yet, 
when  we  have  used  the  norm  in  our  eye  upon  the  norm  in  the 
telescope,  and  have  thus  proved  a  complete  correspondence 
between  the  two,  we  have  an  unshakable  conviction  that  they 
are  not  two  but  one,  and  that  what  has  been  disclosed  by 
the  norm  in  the  telescope  is  assented  to  by  the  norm  in  our 
eye,  as  much  so  as  if  we  had  been  in  a  position  to  bring  the 
norm  in  our  eye  to  bear  directly  upon  the  phenomena  revealed 
to  us  through  the  telescope.  Just  so  it  is  in  the  case  of  the 
individual  and  Christ.  For  the  knowledge  of  certain  facts  re- 
garding God  and  Christ,  and  concerning  God  in  Christ,  we  are 
absolutely  dependent  upon  the  testimony  of  Christ.  We  can- 
not verify  the  correspondence  between  that  testimony  and 
reality  by  ourselves  comparing  it  with  the  reality.  The  reality 
■■ '     ■  spection  as  the 


inaccessible 


immediate 


badge  of  our  individuali 
menta?  Does  He  claim 
without  our  being  able  to  subject  them  to  any  process  of  '  inner 
verification,'  the  latter  being,  of  course,  the  only  possible  real 
verification?  Not  at  all.  What  He  does  claim,  however,  is  that 
when  we  have  assented  to  His  trustworthiness,  we  have  assented 
to  the  trustworthiness  of  His  statements.  Obviously,  if  He  is 
as  He  claims  to  be,  '  the  Truth,'  and  we  have  satisfied  ourselves 
of  this  by  the  same  rational  and  moral  processes  by  which  we 
satisfy  ourselves  of  any  other  propositions  whatever,  then  in 
verifying  Him,  so  to  speak,  we  have  verified  His  statements,  as 
truly  and  as  certainly  as  if  we  were  capable  of  comparing  those 
statements  with  the  great  realities  to  which  they  relate.  Other- 
wise, where  would  be  the  sense  in  examining  witnesses  in  our 
courts?  And  how  else  do  we  verify  the  ultimate  facts  given  us, 
in  the  frame  ot  nature  and  in  the  constitution  of  our  own  being — 
which,  be  it  observed,  are  after  all  but  the  testimony  of  God, — 
except  by  verifying  God  ?  That  we  can  do,  of  which  proposition 
the  simple  proof  is  that  we  do  it.  For  nothing  is  more  certain 
than  that  *  it  is  impossible  for  God  to  lie.'  This  is  the  ultimate 
axiom  upon  which  not  only  all  certainty,  but  the  possibility  of 
any  certainty  depends. 

Christ's  teaching  in  reference  to  an  external  revelation,  and 
our  absolute  dependence  upon  His  \-cvn"i^\-  fnr  thr-  +rMth  nnd 
the  righteousness  of  its  contents,  dn  nm  tmi-iii  .■  m  il,r  l':tsl 
either  upon  His  te.achiT]-as  to  the  juih.     :        ,,   i  ;  .IimI, 


implicati"ii 
tender"  is 


siieak,  and  that  it  is  at  uuce  tlieir 
to  do  so.  And  how  exquisitely 
al  to  His  disciples  to  ajiply  to  His 


not  so,  1  would  have  told  you '  (142). 
(2)  While  Christ  accords  a  large  judicial  authority 
to  the  individual,  it  is,  as  already  stated,  neither 
an  unlimited,  nor  an  absolutely  final  authority. 
In  His  famous  words  to  St.  Peter,  He  speaks  of  '  my 
church'  (Jit  16"*),  and  in  His  equally  celebrated 
words  to  Pilate,  of  '  my  kingdom '  (Jn  18^").  Now 
it  is  no  doubt  true,  as  Dr.  Vos  has  shown  (The 
Kingdom  of  God  and  the  Church,  ch.  ix.),  that 
these  expressions  are  not  absolutely  coterminous 
in  their  respective  connotations,  the  '  church  '  being 
but  one  phase  of  the  'kingdom.'  Still,  even  this 
being  true,  it  follows  that  the  Cimrili  is  an  organ- 
ized body,  with  officers,  l.-iws,  and  iiienihers.  Now 
it  is  clear,  from  what  Clirist  say.s  of  the  Church, 


that  the  authority  vested  in  her,  and  exercised 
through  her  officers,  is  a  purely  judicial  authority. 
The  Lord  is  her  lawgiver.  From  Him  alone  she 
receives  all  the  laws  by  which  she  binds  the  con- 
sciences of  men.  Her  sole  functions  are  to  declare 
and  to  apply  the  law  of  Christ.  To  make  any  laws 
for  her  tiwn  members  or  for  [others  is  beyond  her 
prerogative. 

That  sufii  is  her  authority  as  set  forth  in  the  teachings  of 
Christ  appears  from  such  statements  as,  'If  thy  brother  sin 
against  thee,  go  show  him  his  fault  between  thee  and  him 
alone  :  .  .  .  Rut  it  he  hear  thee  not,  take  with  thee  one  or  two 
more,  etc.  And  if  he  refuse  to  hear  them,  tell  it  unto  the 
church  :  and  if  he  refuse  to  hear  the  church  also,  let  him  be 
unto  thee  as  the  Gentile  and 
therefore,  and  make  disciplei 
to  observe  all  things  whatsoever  ) 
(Mt  2Si9f). 

The  criticism  of  the  former  passage  by  B.  Weiss  can  hardly 
be  regarded  as  invalidating  it  as  a  proper  source  of  information 
as  to  our  Lord's  teaching  concerning  the  Church  (see  his  ^T 
Theol.  i.  p.  141).  It  is  fair,  we  think,  to  assume  that  the  charge 
contained  in  the  latter  passage  was  addressetl  to  the  Apostles, 
not  as  such,  but  as  representatives  of  the  Church  in  all  ages. 

As  will  be  observed,  the  judicial  authority 
ascribed  to  the  Church  in  these  sayings  of  our 
Lord  has  a  twofold  aspect.  In  Mt  28  she  is  author- 
ized to  declare  the  law  of  Christ  to  those  without 
her  fold  with  a  view  to  bringing  them  into  subjec- 
tion to  Him.  And  in  both  sayings  she  is  empowered 
to  unfold  that  law  to  those  within  her  pale.  The 
necessity  for  both  aspects  of  her  judicial  authority 
is  as  obvious  as  is  the  grant  of  it.  If  it  be  her 
function  to  extend  the  Kingdom,  then  it  must  also 
be  her  prerogative  authoritatively  to  declare  the 
nature  and  laws  of  the  Kingdom.  And  again,  if 
the  term  '  kingdom '  as  applied  to  the  Church  is 
not  a  hopeles.s  misnomer,  then  she  must  have 
authority  to  determine  what  the  law  of  Christ 
demands  of  the  citizens  of  the  Kingdom,  and  when 
this  or  that  citizen  is  conforming  to  the  law.  See, 
further,  art.  Church. 

(3)  Tlie  s„preH,._.  an, 
lonus  (.,  til,'  Ih.l,/  s,,ir 


atcc 


i.licial  authority  be- 
•  linilings  are  medi- 
\ic  Scriptures,  and 
lirts.  Apostles,  and 
en  that,  while  both 


ultimately  tlir..u-li  tl 
Christ  HiiiLsclf.  ^Ve 
the  individual  and  the  Church  may,  in  the  proper 
use  of  their  respective  equipments,  arrive  at  a 
knowledge  of  truth  and  right  in  reference  to  all 
matters  of  truth  and  duty  iip(in  which  they  are 
respectively  entitled  to  fonmilatca  juil;;niciit ;  yet, 
as  a  matter  of  fact,  neitlici  tlic  t  liuicli  nor  the 
individual  does  always  arri\c  at  such  knowledge. 
Now  the  very  statement  of  this  position  implies 
the  existence  of  some  standard  by  the  use  of  which 
faulty  judgments,  when  reached,  may  be  detected 
rts  sncli,  and  corrected.  This  standard,  according 
1 11  <  111  i-l ,  i.i;,  in  the  last  resort,  to  be  found  nowhere 
'  1  '  I  liin  in  the  teachings  of  the  Prophets,  Apostles, 
;iii'l  lliiiis.-lf.  The  finality  and  the  infallibility  of 
these  teachings  are,  so  our  Lord  teaches,  guaranteed 
by  the  fact  that  they  proceed  directly  from  the 
Godhead,  through  the  immediate  agency  of  its 
great  executive,  the  Holy  Spirit,  whose  instru- 
ments or  organs  the  Prophets,  Apostles,  and  He 
Himself  were.  If  we  may  use  the  term  '  Scrip- 
tures '  as  a  somewhat  loose  synonym  for  the  teach- 
ings of  the  Prophets,  Apostles,  and  Christ,  then 
the  Scriptures  are,  or,  as  with  admirable  accuracy 
the  Westminster  Confession  puts  it,  '  the  Holy 
Spirit  speaking  in  the  Scripture  '  is,  '  the  Supreme 
Judge  by  which  all  controversies  of  religion  are 
to  be  determined  .  .  .  and  in  whose  sentence  we 
are  to  rest '  (ch.  i.  sec.  x.). 

(a)  That  Christ  conceived  of  the  teachings  of 
the  Prophets,  or  the  OT,  as  constituting,  as  far  as 
it  went,  a  ccmrt  of  last  appeal  in  matters  of  re- 
ligio.i,  is  stiikiiijl\-  eviin.,1  in  His  two  summaries 
of  tliDsc  Icarliiiri-  .iliviidy  referred  to:  'Thou 
.■shalt  love  llic  Luid  tliy  tlud,  etc.  .  .  .  Thou  slialt 


158       AUTHOKITY  IN  RELIGION 


AUTHOEITY  IN  RELIGION 


love  thy  neighbour,  etc.  .  .  .  On  these  two  com- 
mandments hangeth  the  wliole  law  and  the  pro- 
phets '  (Mt  22»«r-,  Mk  \2^^;  Mt  7'=).  But  God  being 
love,  it  is  just  in  love  tliat  religion  finds  its  highest 
and  fullest  expression.  That  standard,  therefore, 
which  being  adhered  to  leads  to  love,  is  the  final 
standard. 

The  sair 
the  words 

them.  ...  If  they  hear  not  Moses  and  the  prophets,  neither 
will  thev  be  persuaded,  if  one  rise  from  the  dead'  (Lk 
16=9.  31).'  The  implication  in  Dives'  plea  was  that  it  was  his 
misfortune  that  he  had  come  to  that  place  of  torment.  These 
words  distinctly  disallow  that  implication.  Thev  affirm  both 
the  sulficiency  and  the  finality  of  the  OT  in  all' matters  con- 
nected with  the  sah  ation  of  those  to  whom  that  revelation  was 
pivcn.  And  so  the  Sadducees  are  told  (Mt  2229),  '  Ye  do  err,  not 
knowing  the  ^>criptures,'  eU:.,  which  means,  of  course,  that  they 
need  not  ha\  c  erred  had  they  only  gone  to  the  Scriptures  in  the 
Ti'^ht  spirit.  I'pon  all  questions  raised  by  His  adversaries,  it 
was  to  the  tc.i..liin5,'s  of  the  OT  that  Christ" Himself  continually 
appealed  as  tlie  final  authority.  Quoting:  Hosea,  He  said  to  the 
Pharisees,  *  If  ye  had  known  what  this  meaneth,  I  desire  mercy 
and  not  s.irrifice.  ve  would  not  have  condemned  the  guiltless' 
(Mt  V1-).  Thin  tlu'  standard  to  which  He  briuL.-s  their  judgment 
of  Hiiiis,lf  atid  li\  whiiii  He  exposes  it.s  falsilv  and  wickedness. 
is  llir  ti;uhiim  "f  the  OT.  His  '  Woe  unto  von,  scribes  and 
Phan-tL>,  h\  ii.n  iitLS  !  for  >e  tithe  mint  and  anise  and  cummin, 
and  lia\e  left  undone  the  weightier  matters  of  the  law,  judg- 
ment, mercy,  and  faith  :  but  these  ye  ou^ht  to  have  done,  and 
not  to  have  left  the  other  undone '  (Mt  23-!),  jg  but  an  applica- 
tion of  the  standard  of  the  OT  for  the  testing  of  Phari.saic 
teachings  and  practice.  Further,  He  recognizes  the  owihfnp.^s 
of  these  teachings,  when  they  concern  the  tithing  of  mint, 

judgment,  mercy,  and  faith.     Hspeciall>-  significant  ar.    WMr-i- 

scribes  that  the  Christ  is  the  son  of  David  ?  David  hiiiist  h  sai.l 
in  the  Holy  Spirit,  The  Lord  said  unto  m\'  Lord,  etc.  Da\iJ 
himself  calleth  him  Lord,  and  whence  is  he  his  son?' 

(i)  Besides  the  passages  already  cited,  the  fol- 
lowing show  that  Christ  represents  His  Apostles  as 
being  the  organs  of  the  Holy  Spirit  in  such  sense 
tliat  their  teachings,  qua  Apostles,  are  ultimate 
and  infallible  in  all  matters  of  faitli  and  duty  : 
'  And  I  also  say  unto  thee.  That  thou  art  Peter, 
etc.  ...  I  will  give  unto  thee  tlie  keys  of  tlie 
kingdom  of  heaven :  and  whatsoever  thou  shalt 
bind  on  earth  shall  be  bound  in  heaven  :  and 
whatsoever  thou  shalt  loose  upon  earth  shall  be 
loosed  in  heaven '  (Mt  16'"-).  Tlie  same  promise 
is  made  to  the  Apostles,  no  doubt  to  all  of  them, 
in  Jit  18i».  In  Jn  20-'-  we  read,  '  And  when  he 
had  said  this  he  breathed  on  them,  and  saith  unto 
them,  Receive  ye  the  Holy  Spirit :  whose  soever 
sins  ye  forgive,  they  are  forgiven ;  whose  soever 
sins  ye  retain,  they  are  retained.' 

r.  «-,  i,s  (\T  ri,rnl.  i.  142,  footnote)  regards  Mt  IS'Sas  ad- 
dr<--Ml  1  .  Ill'  iisriples  in  the  wider  sense,' and  avoids  bring- 
inu^:'>  ii' ii,;.nf  into  collision  with  the  facts  of  history  only 
h}  tiiMJiiu'  III  th'iii  '  nothing  else  than  the  authorization  of  the 
Ai-Kjslles  to  pro'iaiin  the  message  by  means  of  which  men  are 
called  into  the  Kingdom'  (ih.  p.  139,  where  he  is  commenting 
more  particularly  upon  Mt  1619.  On  the  other  side  see  art. 
•  Power  of  the  Keys'  in  Hastings'  DB,  vol.  iv.).  To  most  per- 
sons, however,  such  a  view  of  this  passage  will  appear  inade- 
quate. Dr.  Chas.  Hodge,  believing  that  the  grant  of  power 
made  in  these  words  was  not  designed  to  be  limited  to  the 
.\postles,  seeks  to  avoid  collision  with  the  facts  of  historv  bv 
representing  it  as  made  to  the  invisible  Church  {Church  Pollti}. 


Apostles,  and  to  no  others,  appears  pr^^i 
Mt  16l8f.  and  Jn  2022f-,  but  even  more  so  ii 
Mt  ISlff-  with  Mk  9338-.  That  the  Chun, 
Christ,  was  invested  with  a  limited  jul 
already  been  shown. 

The  full  character  and  extent  of  the  power  with 
which  Christ  represents  His  Apostles  as  being 
clothed  appear  conspicuously  in  the  words,  '  And 
whosoever  shall  not  receive  you  nor  hear  your 
words,  as  ye  go  forth  out  of  that  liouse,  or  that 
city,  shake  off  the  dust  of  your  feet.  Verily,  I 
s,ay  unto  you.  It  sliall  be  more  tolerable  for  the 
land  of  Sodom  and  (iomorrah  in  the  day  of  judg- 
ment than  for  tlial  cily"  (Mt  lO'"-.  With  this 
should    be    compared    Mt    11-*).      Tlie    sufficient 


ground  for  such  a  statement  is  furnislied  by  tlie 
words  also  spoken  of  the  Apostles  (and  subse- 
quentlj'  of  '  tlie  seventy,'  who  received  a  similar, 
but  more  temporary  commission,  Lk  10'*)  — '  He 
that  reeeiveth  you  receiveth  nie,  and  lie  that  re- 
ceiveth  me  receiveth  him  that  sent  me '  (Mt  10^", 
cf.  Jn  13-'). 

(<•)  That  Christ  claimed  for  Himself  a  judicial 
authority  that  was  absolute  and  final,  needs  hardly 
to  be  illustrated.  It  appears  from  such  facts  as 
tliat  He  taught  as  one  liaving  authority  (Mk  1~-  ^, 
Lk  4*^) ;  He  always  commanded  and  never  merely 
counselled  (Mt  28^",  Lk  8^=,  Mt  Ifr"^)  ;  while  unfail- 
ingly tender.  He  did  not  tolerate  even  well-meant 
correction  (Mt  16'^'-) ;  He  invited,  expected,  and 
demanded  of  His  disciples  the  most  complete  and 
unreserved  surrender  to  His  teachings  and  to  His 
will. 

*  hj-pocoristic  expressions '  or  '  endearing  diminutives ' 
t.  by  Professor  B.   B.  \yarfield  in  BiUe  Student  and 


dependence,  and  submission  ( 

et  passim).  Both  His  authority  and  the  nature  of  it  are  less 
veiled  behind  the  very  common  designation  of  '  disciples."  '  A 
disciple,'  says  our  Lord,  using  the  figure  of  tneiosis,  '  is  not 
above  his  teacher'  (.Mt  102-').    The  very  terms  of  discipleship 


'  If  anv  man,'  savs  He,  *will  come  after  me,  let  him  deny  him- 
s.  If,  and  take  up  his  cross  and  follow  me  '  (Mk  S»,  Lk  925).  i„ 
I  h.  saying,  '  Ye  call  me  Teacher  and  Lord  :  and  ye  say  well  :  for 
SM  I  am  '  (.Jn  131^),  *  teacher '  is  suggestively  united  with  *  Lord.' 
And  not  less  suited  to  arrest  the  attention  is  the  statement, 
'  liut  be  ye  not  called  Rabbi :  for  one  is  your  teacher,  and  all  ye 
are  brethren  '  (Mt  238). 

Once  more,  Christ  declared  Himself  to  be  '  The 
Way,  and  the  Truth,  and  the  Life'  (Jn  14«)  ;  He 
invited  men  to  believe  in  Himself  just  as  they 
believed  in  God  (v.')  ;  He  conditioned  His  ble.ss- 
ings  upon  the  acceptance  of  His  '  yoke '  and  His 
teachings  (Mt  11'^).  Nay,  He  conditioned  men's 
everlasting  salvation  upon  their  unquestioning 
acceptance  of  His  statements  about  Himself  (Jn 
8"  ;  for  the  repetition  of  this  thought  in  a  slightly 
different  form  see  Mt  233"-,  Lk  13*"-  19»" ).  The 
word  that  He  spake  was  to  judge  them  at  the  last 
day  (Jn  12^).  His  Avords  are  God's  words  :  '  The 
words  that  I  say  unto  you,  I  speak  not  from 
myself  :  but  the  Father  abiding  in  me  he  doeth 
the  works'  (Jn  14'").  In  a  word.  He  and  the 
Father  are  one  (Jn  10*') ;  seeing  Him,  one  .sees  the 
Father  (14') ;  the  'Spirit  of  truth  '  in  guiding  into 
all  truth  was  to  glorify  Him,  '  for,'  said  our  Lord, 
'  he  shall  take  of  mine,  and  shall  declare  it  unto 
you.  All  things  whatsoever  the  Father  hath  are 
mine  :  therefore  said  I  that  he  shall  take  of  mine 
and  shall  declare  it  unto  you '  (1()'"). 

Thus  when  we  reach  Christ  in  the  matter  of 
religion,  we  have  reached  the  fountainhead.  It 
were  idle  to  look  for  a  court  in  which  to  reWew 
and  put  to  the  test  His  findings  in  regard  either 
to  truth  or  to  duty.  Such,  certainly,  is  His  own 
teaching  upon  the  subject.     See  preceding  article. 

iv.  EXKCUTIVE  AUTHORITY  IN  RELIGION.  —  1. 
Term  dejiiied.— The  function  of  executive  autho- 


rity, as  needs  scarcely  be  said, 

to  give  effect  to  the  legislative  will  an 

findings.    Of  itself  it  originates  nothing',  interprets 


ply  and  solely 
,nd  to  judicial 


and  declares  nothing.  It  simply 
not  be  said,  because  executive  .nitiiMiiiN  1-  ^n  oIj- 
viously  and  so  markedly  distinct  tiuui  ln.ili  l.-i.- 
lative  and  judicial,  that  there  is  no  daugci  ui  its 
being  confused  with  either  the  one  or  the  other. 

2.  Repositories. — (1)  Our  Lord  obviously  teaches 
that  as  every  individual  is  a  repository  of  judicial 
authority,  so  every  individual  was  designed  to  be, 
and  every  individual  Christian  is,  an  executive 
agent  of  the  Godhead.  It  is  His  constant  conten- 
tion that  it  is  for  doing  the  will  of  God  that  men 


AUTHORITY  IN  RELIGION 


AVE  MARIA 


159 


exist,  whether  as  creatures  or  as  Christians.  The 
end  of  His  whole  teaching  function  was  to  set  men 
doing,  and  to  guide  thein  in  doing,  the  will  of 


God.      It 


gravamen 


of    His 


ship  (Mt  12''),  the  only  accepted  evidenc 
and  of  loyalty  (Jn  14'=),  a  condition  sine 
to  salvation   (Mt  T""-),   was    that  His 


against  those,  like  the  Pharisees,  who  ought  to 
have  heen  His  disciples,  but  were  not,  that  instead 
of  doing  the  will  of  God,  tliey  did  the  lusts  of  their 
father,'  tlic  devil  (Jn  S-").  'fhe  end  that  He  set 
before  tliosi'  jirofessing  to  be  His  disciples  was, 
'  So  let  yoiir  light  shine  before  men,  that  they 
may  see  your  good  works,  and  glorify  your  Father 
which  is  in  heaven '  (Mt  .5"').  The  first  three  peti- 
tions that  He  puts  on  tlieir  lips  are,  '  Hallowed  be 
thy  name.  Thy  kingdom  come.  Thy  will  be  done, 
as  in  heaven,  so  on  eartli.'  The  badge  of  disciple- 
ship  (Mt  12''),  the  only  accepted  evidence  of  love 
sine  qua  non 
followers 
should  do  the  will  of  God.  It  was  His  ceaseless 
tlieme,  elaborated  now  in  this  form  and  now  in 
that,  that  the  end  of  life  is  not  getting,  or  having, 
or  being  ministered  unto,  or  thinking,  but  being 
and  doing  the  vill  of  God.  To  go  into  details  here 
would  require  the  incorporation  in  this  article  of 
a  very  considerable  part  of  all  four  Gospels,  and 
would  be  superrtuous. 

(2)  The  passages  already  cited  show  that  Christ 
represents  the  Church  in  her  corporate  capacity  as 
the  great  executive  agency  of  God  for  the  preach- 
ing of  the  gospel  of  the  Kingdom  as  a  witness 
among  all  nations,  making  disciples  of  all  nations, 
and  teaching  tliem  to  observe  all  things  whatso- 
ever He  has  commanded.  Executive  and  judicial 
authority  here  complement  each  other. 

(3)  That  Christ  ascribes  executive  authority  to 
the  Prophets  is  perhaps  a  fair  inference  from  such 
a  passage  as  Mk  7®,  in  which  our  Lord  refers  to 
Isaiah  not  merely  as  an  interpreter  of  God's  law, 
but  as  a  teacher  of  God's  people.  But  the  inference 
is  not  to  be  strained.  And  for  evidence  of  the 
executive  authority  unquestionably  exercised  by 
the  Prophets,  we  have  to  turn  elsewhere  than  to  the 
Gospels.  The  case  is  dift'erent  with  the  Apostles. 
The  mission  of  '  the  Twelve'  (Mt  10)  points  clearly 
to  the  fact  that  they  were  invested  with  authority 
to  ditt'use  the  knowledge  of  the  gospel,  and  to  use 
a  variety  of  agencies  to  gain  men's  attention  and 
win  their  allegiance  to  it.  The  same  follows  from 
Lk  24«ff-  and  Ac  1».  But  as  to  the  details  of  their 
executive  functions  we  learn  but  little  from  the 
Gospels.  It  is  ditt'erent,  however,  in  the  case  of 
Christ.  He  applies  to  Himself  (Lk  4""'-)  the  famous 
passage  from  Is  61,  'The  Spirit  of  tlie  Lord  is 
upon  me,'  etc.  This  is  not  the  place  to  unfold  in 
detail  the  several  features  of  the  wondrous  pro- 
gramme outlined  in  the  words  of  the  prophet :  it 
IS  hardly  necessary,  for  they  are  as  plain  as  they 
are  precious.  The  title  of  '  The  Good  Sliepherd,' 
which  our  Lord  appropriated  to  Himself  (perhaps 
from  Ezk  34),  is  evidence  both  of  the  fact  and  of 
the  nature  of  His  executive  functions  (Jn  10).  The 
same  fact  underlies  such  statements  as  '  I  have 
a  baptism  to  be  baptized  with,  and  how  am  I 
straitened  until  it  be  accnnipli«lipd '  (Lk  12™). 
This  last  passage  also  brinus  l»  i.ni'  n-  (he  central 
feature  of  the  work  comuiittiMl  i,i  (  luist.  Here, 
again,  we  must  forbear  fiom  ;^oiim  uitii  details, 
which  belong  properly  to  another  held  ol  discussion. 
It  must  suttice  merely  to  recall  to  the  reader's 
mind  such  sayings  of  our  Lord  as  '  Therefore  doth 
my  Fatlier  love  me,  because  I  lay  down  my  life, 
that  I  may  take  it  again.  No  one  taketh  it  away 
from  me,  but  I  lay  it  down  of  myself.  I  have 
authority  to  lay  it  down,  and  I  have  autliority  to 
take  it  again.  This  commandment  received  I  from 
my  Father '(Jn  10"'-);  'This  is  my  body  .  .  .  for 
this  is  my  blood  of  the  covcriunt,  whh-li  'is  shed  for 
many  unto  the  remissioii  of  sins'  (Mt  20-''- -") ;  and 


the  word  from  the  cross,  '  It  is  accomplished '  (Jn 
IQ'").  Surely  the  prophet  went  not  amiss  when  he 
spoke  of  Him  as  the  great' Ebhedh  Jahiveh  (ni.T  nnj;). 
(4)  According  to  our  Lord,  the  great  executive 
of  the  Godhead  is  the  Holy  Spirit.  It  belongs  to 
another  article  (see  HoLY  Spirit)  to  unfold  His 
doctrine  of  the  Holy  Spirit.  But  we  may,  without 
intruding  into  that  discussion,  call  attention  to 
like  Jn  3"f-  W^  i6"-i3ff-  20=='-,  Ac  l^'-*. 


terature  bearing  formally  upon  the  teach- 
inji^s  of  Christ  concerning  authority  in  religion  is  very  much 
scattered  and  somewhat  meagre.  We  must  content  ourselves, 
therefore,  with  mentioning  some  works  and  articles  that  deal 
with  the  question  of  authority  in  religion  without  treating 
specifically  of  the  teachings  of  our  Lord  upon  this  point.  Dr. 
.Tames  Martineau's  The  Seat  of  Aidhoritif  in  RclUjion  is  still  the 
first  in  its  class.  (Dr.  Martineau  denies,  of  course,  the  existence 
of  any  external  authority  in  religion  ;  and  supports  his  conten- 
tion with  an  acuteneas  and  vigour  that  still  remain  not  only 
unsurpassed,  but  wholly  unequalled  by  any  who  have  given  iii 
their  adhesion  to  his  general  position)  More  recent  works  re 
presenting  substantially  Dr  Martineau  s  view  but  adding  little 
■    '  maybe  called  his  historical  and  nothing  whate\er  to 


by  Prof.  George  A  Coe     Prof  Sabaticr  ii  1  Di    t  e  1  oth  cH  m 

tile  support  of  Christ  for  their  positio        !    I  1 1   f   Sal  at    is 

presentation  of  the  teach  n^s  of  Chri  i 

completeness  but  m  cogency  and  Pr  f  1 

near  beii  „  n  ere  caricature     For  an  (  ) 

opposite  \  lew  of  the  general  subiect  tl  i 

to  Stantoi    The  PI         lilt 

Belief,  Dale    P 

mobatm     Oma      I  / 

in  the  ChuiLh     a  1 

losophy  of  Auth  ;/ 

Hibbert  Journal  j 

Theology     by  Prof    L    F    n  i  f    1  1  I 

Reformtd  Rli  eu    July  lb  It        4  tl  r 

Henry  Collin  Mmton    ib    April   19U 

besides  the  al\\a\s  valuable  matter  fr  s 

a  number  of  useful  leferences  and  e\tr 

W    M    MPlILLlLl^ 

AYARICE.— See  CovETOU&NJiSS 

AYE  MARIA.— This  well-known  devotion  of  the 
Latin  Church  is  based  upon  the  salutations  ad- 
dressed to  the  Virgin  Mary  by  the  angel  Gabriel 
and  by  Elisabeth  the  mother  of  John  the  Baptist 
(Lk  l'^-  •*-).  Its  earlier  and  shorter  form  follows 
closely  the  words  of  Scripture,  with  the  addition 
only  of  the  names  '  Mary '  and  '  Jesus ' ;  '  Hail 
(Mary),  full  of  grace;  blessed  art  thou  among 
women,  and  blessed  is  the  fruit  of  thy  womb 
(Jesus).'  As  thus  recited,  it  cannot  be  called  a 
prayer,  but  may  be  considered  either  as  a  memorial 
of  thanksgiving  for  the  Incarnation  ;  or  as  one  of 
those  devotional  apostrophes  of  departed  saints 
which  are  found  even  in  the  writings  of  the  Chris- 
tian Fathers  and  in  early  Christian  inscriptions. 

The  use  of  the.4ne  ATfO'ia  in  the  fi.xed  liturgical 
services  of  the  Latin  Church  is  of  comparatively 
late  origin.  Its  devotional  use  is,  however,  much 
older  :  it  is  even  said  to  be  traceable  as  far  back  as 
the  7th  century.  In  the  14th  cent,  it  is  found  in 
the  popular  handbooks  of  devotion.  The  Mirror  of 
our  Lady  (first  half  of  tlie  15th  cent.)  alludes  to  it 
as  forming  part  of  the  preliminary  prayers  said 
privately  by  the  worshipper  before  the  office  began. 
An  interesting  example  of  its  use  is  given  by 
Maskell  (Monumenta  Ritualia,  ii.  71 ).  The  founda- 
tion statutes  of  the  Abbey  of  Maxstoke  in  the  reign 
of  Edward  ill.  order  its  recital  daily. 

But  the  Ave  was  not  definitely  placed  in  the 
offices  of  the  Breviary  until  the  16th  cent.  ;  and 
curiously  enough  by  the  liturgical  reformer.  Car- 
dinal Qiiignonez.  In  the  present  Roman  Breviary, 
dating  from  Pope  Pius  v.  (1568),  it  is  directed  to 
be  said  with  the  Lord's  Prayer  at  the  beginning 
of  each  office,  and  after  Compline. 

The  pre-Keformation  Ave  was  usually  the  shorter 
and  Scriptural  form  as  given  above.  But  as  it 
stands  now  in  the  Breviary,  it  ends  with  a  direct 


160 


AWE 


prayer  addressed  to  the  Virgin,  said  to  date  from 
the  middle  of  the  15th  cent. :  '  Holy  Mary,  mother 
of  God,  pray  for  us  sinners,  now  and  in  tte  hour  of 
our  death.' 

It  is  fair  to  remember  that,  wliatever  lines  the 
devotions  to  Mary  ultimately  followed,  they  were, 
in  their  original  intention,  I'lniloubtedly  devotions 
to  Christ.  Like  the  titl.-  ///../„/,, v,  sanctioned  by 
the  Tliird  CEcumenical  (  t,iunil  (ICjiliesus  431),  they 
were  intended  to  safeguard  and  emphasize  the  true 
humanity  of  Christ.  Not  only  was  Christ  perfect 
God,  but  He  was  truly  conceived  and  born  of  a 
human  mother,  so  that  the  Son  of  Mary  is  indis- 
solubly  God  and  man  in  one  person.  The  devotions 
addressed  to  His  mother  were  therefore  a  com- 
memoration of  the  intimate  union  between  the 
Godhead  and  human  nature,  of  which  union  Mary 
was  both  the  willing  instrument  and  the  sign. 

Literature.— Addis  and  Arnold,  A.  Catholic  Dictionary,  189V ; 
Wright  and  Neil,  A  Protestant  Dictionary,  1904 ;  Bodington, 
Boots  of  Devotion,  1903 ;  Procter,  A  Histori/  of  the  Book  of 
Common  Prayer,  1884 ;  Maskell,  Monnmenta  Ritualia,  1846 ; 
the  Breviarium  Momanum;  The  Hours  of  the  Blessed  Virgin 
Mary  (Preface),  Percival  &  Co.  1892;  Beiigel,  Meyer,  and 
Alford  on  Lk  1&.  A.  K.  WhitHAM. 

AWE. — The  adoration  of  what  is  mysterious  and 
sublime  is  an  essential  element  in  religion.  Wlien 
expressed  towards  unworthy  objects  the  result  is 
superstition,  but  the  motive  itself  is  the  soul  of 
worship.  As  the  feeling  is  thus  fundamental  to 
the  relationship  between  the  human  and  the 
Divine,  increase  of  knowledge,  while  testing  and 
purifying  this  relationship,  should  protect  and 
strengthen  it. 

In  the  service  of  the  missionary  gospel,  the 
complaint  is  made  to-day  by  Eastern  heathen 
religions  that  our  Western  Christianity,  which 
comes  to  them  as  the  aggressive  lierald  of  a  higher 
life,  is  gravely  deficient  in  religious  veneration. 
It  becomes,  therefore,  of  practical  interest  to  in- 
quire how  Cliii^ls  liist  cliseiples  were  influenced 
in  this  direction  Iin  llw  |iiv,rnce  among  them,  and 
to  what  extent  tlir  -;iiiw  i.^  lin^-  towards  the  person 
of  the  living  C'liri>t  pii  \udes  the  Church  of  modern 
times. 

When  Christ  took  upon  Him  our  nature,  it  was 
under  such  circumstances  of  poverty  and  liumble 
birth  as  could  not  inspire  the  conventional  regard 
which  the  world  bestows  upon  rank  and  title. 
Further,  His  life  was  lived  in  such  daily  intimacy 
with  those  around  Him,  and  was  so  thoroughly 
affected  by  the  local  customs  of  Israel  and  the 
social  conditions  of  the  time,  that  His  disciples 
could  speak  of  their  fellowship  with  Him  in  terms 
of  exact  knowledge  and  distinct  impression.  They 
could  afterwards  refer  to  His  life  as  something 
that  they  had  seen  with  their  eyes  and  their  hands 
had  handled  (1  Jn  V). 

Nevertheless,  there  is  nothing  more  evident  in 
tlie  story  of  tlie  Evangelists  than  tlie  fact  that 
a  permanent  and  increasing  mystery,  passing  into 
reverence  and  awe,  accompanied  that  familiar  ac- 
quaintance. The  feeling  was  usually  called  forth 
by  some  manifestation  of  knowledge  or  power, 
and  deeper  e\en  than  the  impression  thus  pro- 
duced by  His  wonderful  teaching  and  miraculous 
works  was  the  trustful  consciousness  of  their  being 
in  contact  with  a  personality  that  was  altogether 
holy  and  separate  from  sin.  Finally,  the  reverent 
submission  thus  instilled  into  the  minds  of  the 
disciples  was  exemjilified  in  Christ  Himself  to- 
wards the  will  of  God,  as  in  the  temptation  in 
the  wilderness  and  in  the  Garden  of  Gethsemane. 

As  their  power  of  spiritual  perception  increased, 
the  disciples  learnt  to  apprehend  and  accept  the 
startling  renovation,  the  sudden  depth,  and  the 
delightful  expansion  that  the  Master  gave  to  old 
religious  truths,  but  there  were  always  meanings 


AWE 

about  which  they  had  to  seek  an  interpretation 
in  private,  and  to  the  end  of  their  fellowship  they 
had  often  to  confess  that  they  knew  not  what  He 
said.  The  difficulty  thus  created  by  His  person- 
ality and  actions  was  so  far  recognized  by  the  Lord 
Jesus,  that  on  one  occasion  He  encouraged  His 
disciples  to  make  known  their  own  thoughts  and 
the  thoughts  of  others  about  Himself  (Mt  16"). 
Thus  Nathanael  was  overawed  by  the  knowledge 
that  He  had  been  watching  him  in  his  place  of 
seclusion  (Jn  I''") ;  and  this  feeling  soon  became 
a  general  persuasion  that  He  knew  all  men  and 
what  was  in  man  (2-^-').  Peter  felt  himself  so 
immediately  in  the  presence  of  Divine  power  that 
he  confessed  his  own  sinfulness,  and  he  and  James 
and  John  decided  to  leave  all  and  follow  Him 
(Lk  5'-").  The  bereaved  sisters  at  Bethany  repeat 
the  conviction  that  if  He  had  been  there,  their 
brother  would  not  have  died  (Jn  IP'-'-).  And 
among  those  who  came  into  more  incidental  con- 
tact with  Him  by  simple  inquiry  or  importunate 
need,  Nicodemus  was  attracted  by  the  persuasion 
that  He  was  a  teacher  come  from  God  (Jn  3-) ;  an 
admission  to  the  same  effect  was  made  on  one  occa- 
sion by  the  Pharisees  and  Herodians  (Mk  12") ; 
the  chief  priests  and  scribes  were  driven  to  assign 
a  Satanic  origin  to  His  unquestionable  power  (Mt 
12-^) ;  while  the  Pharisees  reached  a  stage  in  their 
controversy  with  Him  after  which  no  man  durst 
ask  Him  any  question  (Mt  22'«,  Mk  12»').  The 
privileged  traffickers  in  the  temple  quailed  under 
His  exposure  and  rebuke  (Mt  21'-(,  and  to  the  end 
the  challenge  to  convict  Him  of  sin  remained  un- 
answered (Jn  8'*').  All  the  miracles  of  Christ, 
while  expressing  His  pity  and  love,  accentuated 
this  Divine  power,  and  His  teaching  bore  the  dis- 
tinguishing mark  of  authority  (Mt  7*'). 

To  His  lirst  .It-wish  (lisciiiles  the  name  Messiah 
was  the  iiin  i-ilin^  of  a  historical  mystery,  the  jus- 
tification of  the  oalliiig.  preservation,  and  discipline 
of  Israel.  They  found  in  Him  the  fulfilment  of 
the  prophecy  '  and  his  name  shall  be  called 
Wonderful'  (Is  9«).  With  so  much  that  attracted 
them  to  His  person  and  depended  upon  His  presence, 
it  is  doubtful  if  they  could  have  ventured  upon  our 
depersonalized  formulae  about  '  the  plan  of  salva- 
tion.' And  so,  while  the  Fourth  Gospel,  like  the 
ancient  epics,  begins  with  the  introduction  of  its 
principal  theme,  namely,  '  The  Word  became  flesh, 
and  dwelt  among  us'  (Jn  l"),  the  Evangelist  could 
add  that  even  through  that  obscuring  medium 
Christ's  disciples  were  enabled  to  behold  His 
glory  (ib.). 

After  the  Resurrection  this  veil  was  so  completely 
removed,  and  the  awe  of  Christ's  presence  became 
so  unclouded  and  continuous,  that  one  of  the 
Apostles  could  write,  '  Though  we  have  known 
Christ  after  the  flesh,  yet  now  we  know  him  so  no 
more '  (2  Co  5"^). 

Thereafter  it  became  the  commission  of  the 
Church  to  proclaim  and  teach  and  exemplify  how 
the  flesh  may  in  turn  become  the  Word,  and  every 
believer  be  a  dwelling-place  for  the  Spirit  of  Christ. 
Tlie  reverence  that  once  gathered  around  His  own 
visible  person  could  still  influence  men  through 
every  witness  in  whom  His  Spirit  dwelt.  The  con- 
dition of  life  and  service  was  fixed,  namely,  'As 
he  is,  so  are  we  in  this  world '  (1  Jn  4").  And  so 
in  the  Apostolic  preaching  of  the  gospel  the  living 
personality  of  Christ  was  never  lost  in  the  analysis 
of  His  mind  and  nature.  Instead  of  the  parched 
abstractions  that  with  us  so  often  take  the  place  of 
the  mystical  indwelling,  they  preached  '  Jesus  and 
the  resurrection'  (Ac  17'*),  ' Jesus  Christ  and  liira 
crucified'  (1  Co  2=). 

Can  it  be  said  to-day  of  Christian  sainthood  and 
the  service  of  the  missionary  gospel,  that  the  per- 
son of  Christ  is  thus  central,  His  presence  an  indis- 


AXE 


BACK  TO  CHRIST 


161 


pensable  necessity,  likeness  to  Him  tlie  recognition 
mark  of  His  Church,  and  the  conquest  of  the  world 
the  consummation  of  its  appointed  labours  ?  If  it 
be  otherwise,  certain  signs  may  be  expected  to 
manifest  tliemselves.  Christ  will  be  little  more 
than  a  beautiful  name  in  His  Churcli,  an  idea 
developed  and  resident  in  our  minds.  The  work  of 
the  Holy  Spirit  in  bringing  and  revealing  the 
things  of  Christ  will  be  shadowy  and  almost  super- 
fluous to  those  wlio  have  already  reached  a  com- 
plete conception  of  Christ  by  philosophical  method 
applied  to  the  study  of  doctrine.  The  question,  '  Is 
Christ  divided?'  (1  Co  1'^)  will  cease  to  startle  and 
distress,  and  the  loyalty  due  to  the  Head  of  the 
Church  and  to  the  universal  kingdom  will  be 
pledged  to  sectarian  trusts  and  the  watchwords  of 
exhausted  controversy.  When  the  one  standard 
of  elevation,  the  stature  of  Christ,  is  withdrawn. 
Church  distinctions  will  be  restricted  to  the  super- 
ficial dimensions  of  mere  historical  length  and 
doctrinal  width.  In  the  ideal  picture  of  the  future 
fold,  the  one  flock  still  needs  the  presence  of  the 
one  Shepherd  ( Jn  10").  Through  this  visible  union 
in  Him,  Christ  will  be  glorihed  ( 17'"),  and  solely  to 
its  manifestation  is  promised  the  conque.st  of  the 
world  (v.-'). 

LiTERATCEE.— Fowler  and  Wilson's  Principles  of  Morals,  Oxf. 
1894,  p.  101 ;  Kidd,  Morality  and  Religion,  Edin.  1895,  p.  187 ; 
Davidson,  Theism  and  Human  Nature,  p.  279;  and  on 
Christ's  awe,  Swete's  St.  Marh^,  1902,  p.  342  (on  Mk  14S»). 

G.  M.  Mackie. 
AXE. — This  word  occurs  twice  in  the  Gospels 
(Mt  31",  Lk  3^),  each  time  in  the  report  of  the 
preaching  of  the  Baptist.     The  old  familiar  tool  of 

Eeaee  and  weapon  of  war  (I  K  G',  Ps  74^*,  Jer  51™) 
as  become  a  metaphor  for  the  ministry  of  men 
with  a  mission  of  reform.  This  suits  the  spirit  of 
one  who,  like  John  the  Baptist,  is  filled  with  the 
teaching  of  the  OT.  For  the  axe  gleams  in  its 
histories  and  flashes  in  its  songs,  while  in  prophetic 
mood  the  tool  is  clianged  to  the  person— the  wielder 
is  himself  the  weapon  (Is  10^"'-,  Dn  4",  Jer  51="). 
All  this  is  the  forerunner's  inherited  world  of  ideas 
on  this  implement  of  industry  and  weapon  of 
attack.  He  is  a  part  of  all  that  his  race  has  been. 
He  sees  the  men  of  old  times  '  as  men  that  lifted 
up  axes  upon  a  thicket  of  trees'  (Ps  74^).     The 


Messiah,  the  Coming  One,  is  the  last  of  the  line. 
Nor  are  all  in  that  line  of  the  lineage  of  the  house 
of  David.  'As  the  Assyrian  axe  in  the  days  of 
old,  so  now  the  Roman  axe  was  laid  at  the  root  of 
Israel'  (Philuchristus,  oh.  4).  Thoroughly  as  these 
powers  had  done  their  part,  yc(  more  drastic  was 
to  be  tlie  work  of  the  fudiiv  ('■  t-xrry  I  ive,'  Mt  3"). 
Under  tliis  image  of  tlir  :i\:\  ilic  road-maker 
(Mt3-')  has  liis  vision  of  the  woodcutter  and  his 
efl'ectual  working  (v.'"). 

But  'God  fulhls  Himself  in  many  ways.'  And 
when  the  Carpenter  laid  aside  the  axe  of  the  work- 
shop in  Nazareth,  the  wood-cutter,  '  thoroughly 
furnished  unto  every  good  work,  a  workman  that 
needeth  not  to  be  ashamed,'  was  already  prepared 
for  going  up  against  the  trees.  Jesus  had  been 
tempered  by  waiting,  in  solitude  and  temptation. 
And  the  stroke  of  His  axe,  when  it  fell,  was  de- 
liberate, radical,  universal  (cf.  He  4''-'').  Men 
and  institutions,  the  priests,  the  temple  felt  it.  He 
would  save  the  tree  of  humanity,  even  '  as  a  tree 
whose  stock  remaineth  when  they  are  felled '  (Is  6"). 
Therefore  He  struck  at  the  root  of  the  evil  in  man 
and  nature— sin.  And  because  the  strokes  were 
meant  to  be  regenerating  and  reforming,  they 
were  clean,  swift,  sharp,  and  stout  (Jn  2"  8'"', 
Lk  ISif-). 

Finally,  the  axe  is  not  only  the  sign-manual  of 
the  mission  of  the  forerunner  and   the   Fultiller, 


it  is  that  of  reformers  in  general.  As  the  axe 
of  the  backwoodsman  has  been  tempered  in  lire 
and  water  past  the  useless  state  of  brittleness  and 
beyond  the  extremity  of  hardness,  so  the  temper- 
ing of  the  reformer  is  done,  on  tlie  one  hand,  in 
a  series  of  Divine  and  delicate  processes  in  the 
personality  of  him  who  is  being  touched  to  fine 
issues  by  the  Spirit,  for  the  service  of  God  and 
man,  and,  on  the  other  hand,  in  a  parallel  series  of 
providential  dispensations  in  the  mind  and  environ- 
ment of  the  people,  the  race,  or  the  institution 
with  which  he  has  to  deal. 

LiTERATtTRE.— ii'cce  Homo,  ch.  1 ;  Reynolds,  John  the  Baptist, 
Lecture  4 ;  Tennyson,  Idylls  of  the  King,  '  The  Coming  of 
Arthur,"  ap.  fin. ;  Morley,  Life  of  Gladstone,  ii.  252. 

John  R.  Legge. 
AZOR.— An  ancestor  of  Jesus,  according  to  the 
genealogy  in  the  First  Gospel  (Mt  1""-). 


BABE.  —  1.  (3p^0o!,  lit.  '  nourished  '  —  by  the 
mother,  is  used  of  an  unborn  infant  (Lk  1'"-'^),  of  an 
infant  still  in  swaddling-bands  (2'2- 1«),  and  also  of 
young  children  brought  by  their  mothers  to  Jesus 
that  He  might  touch  them  (IS''*).  2.  vTiirios,  liter- 
ally, 'one  that  cannot  yet  speak'  (j'77='not,'  and 
^TTos,  'woi'd');  cf.  Lat.  m-fans,  'infant,'  which  is 
a  better  rendering  of  vifirLos,  though  neither  AV 
nor  RV  is  consistent  in  the  translation  of  the  two 
Greek  words.  cTiTrios  is  a  child  as  contrasted  with 
an  older  person,  e.g.  with  'the  wise  and  prudent' 
in  Lk  10=^  and  Mt  1P=  (cf.  Gal  4^,  Eph  4^').  It  is 
used  also  with  B-riKaiovTe^,  '  sucklings,'  in  Mt  21'",  in 
which  passage  the  root  meaning  of  v^ttios  is  speci- 
ally suggestive,  '  Out  of  the  mouth  of  speechless 
(babes)  tliou  hast  perfected  praise.' 

Jesus'  fondness  for  these  little  ones  was  shown, 
both  by  His  rebuke  of  the  disciples  who  would 
have  sent  them  and  their  mothers  away  when 
they  came  to  Him  for  a  blessing  (Lk  IS'^'-,  cf. 
Mt  19"),  and  by  His  frequent  use  of  children  to 
illustrate  the  Christian  disposition  (cf.  Mt  18", 
VOL.  I.  — II 


Mk  W\  Lk  IS'"-").     See,  further,  artt.  Infancy, 
Children. 

Tlie  word  '  babe '  i0pi^oi)  is  twice  used  of  the  infant  Jesus 
Himself  (Lie  212-  ii>).  And  it  is  worth  noting  that  in  v."  KV 
brings  out  a  significance  of  meaning  which  is  lost  in  AV.  In 
the  Gr.  there  is  no  art.  prefixed  to  ppi^oi  in  this  verse  ;  the  sign 
given  to  the  shepherds  was  'the  sign  of  a  babe."  Moreover, 
according  to  the  reading  which  is  most  strongly  supported, 
tr-nu-tm  should  have  the  art.,  so  that  what  the  shepherds  were 
told  was  '  The  sign  is  a  babe.'  The  meaning  therefore  is,  not  as 
AV  suggests,  '  you  shall  find  the  babe  you  are  looking  for  in  such 
and  such  a  condition,*  but  rather  this  'most  extraordinary  and 

iggestive  one.  You  shall  find  the  Saviour  you  are  looking  for. 


BACK  TO  CHRIST.— The  movement  or  tendency 
described  in  the  phrase  'back  to  Christ'  belongs 
mainly  to  the  past  Jialf  century,  and  both  its  wide 
extent  and  its  far-reaching  consequences  for  re- 
ligious thought  justify  us  in  regarding  it  as  the 
most  important  theological  event  of  the  period. 

The  phrase  can  be  received  as  a  correct  descrip- 


162 


BACK  TO  CHEIST 


BACK  TO  CHRIST 


tion  of  the  movement,  only  under  the  explanation 
that  the  return  has  not  been  to  the  Christ  of 
dogma,  but  to  the  Christ  of  history.  This  dis- 
tinction must  be  kept  clearly  in  view.  The  Christ 
of  dogma  is  Christ  as  exhibited  in  the  creeds — the 
eternally  begotten  Son  of  God,  the  second  Person 
in  the  Trinity,  who,  for  our  redemption,  assumed 
our  human  nature  and  s\ibmitted  to  death  as  an 
atonement  for  our  sins.  He  is  the  God-man,  a 
DiWne  Person  with  two  natures  and  two  wUls.  It 
is  evident  that  these  determinations  move  in  a 
diflerent  region  from  that  of  empirical  reality. 
They  cannot  be  established  on  merely  historical 
evidence ;  they  have  their  ground  in  a  judgment 
of  faith.  What  we  have  in  dogma  is  not  a  portrait 
of  the  historical  Jesus  in  the  religious  and  ethical 
traits  of  His  character,  but  a  speculative  construc- 
tion of  His  Person  ;  not  an  account  of  His  historical 
ministry,  but  a  doctrinal  interpretation  of  it.  The 
Christ  of  history  is  the  concrete  Person  whose 
image  meets  us  in  the  Gospels  ;  the  Christ  of 
dogma  is  the  complex  of  metaphysical  or  doctrinal 
characters  which  the  Church,  on  the  ground  of  its 
faith,  attributed  to  this  Person.  So  far  the  dis- 
tinction is  clear  enough,  and  meets  with  general 
acceptance.  The  difficulty  begins  when  we  raise 
the  question  whether  such  facts  as  the  Virgin- 
birth,  the  Miracles  (in  the  strict  sense  of  the  word), 
and  the  Kesurrection  are  to  be  included  in  our 
conception  of  the  historical  Christ  as  resting  upon 
historical  evidence,  or  whether  they  are  not  ratlier 
to  be  transferred  from  the  domain  of  history  to 
that  of  faith.  The  question  will  come  up  again  ; 
in  the  meantime  it  may  be  sufficient  to  call 
attention  to  the  ambiguity  which  must  attach  to 
the  term  '  historical  Christ '  so  long  as  it  remains 
undecided. 

When  we  speak  of  a  return  to  the  Christ  of 
history,  we  imply  that  His  image  has  been  lost 
sight  of,  or  at  least  obscured.  It  was  not  doubtless 
the  intention  of  the  Chdrch  that  its  doctrinal 
determinations  should  supplant  the  concrete 
reality  in  the  thought  and  faith  of  the  community. 
But  this  was  what  actually  happened.  Mure  and 
more  the  historical  Person  was  overshadowed  bj' 
the  speculative  construction,  the  historical  mini- 
stry by  the  formulas  in  which  its  significance  was 
summed  up.  The  figure  of  Jesus  disappeared  be- 
hind the  pre-existent  Logos,  the  earthly  ministry 
behind  the  idea  of  the  Incarnation,  the  cross  behind 
the  doctrine  of  the  Atonement.  This  result  is 
not  to  be  explained  by  the  fact  that  dogma,  from 
its  controversial  character,  attracted  to  itself  an 
undue  share  of  attention  and  interest  as  com- 
pared with  matters  that  had  never  been  in  dispute. 
The  cause  lay  deeper.  It  is  to  be  found  in  the 
conception  of  Revelation  and  of  Faith  that  has 
dominated  the  Catholic  and  also,  to  a  large  extent, 
the  Protestant  Church.  Revelation  has  been  un- 
derstood as  the  supernatural  communication  of  a 
system  of  doctrine ;  Faith,  as  the  submission  of  the 
mind  to  doctrine  on  the  ground  of  its  authority. 
The  emphasis  has  thus  been  thrown,  not  on  the 
historical  life,  but  on  the  dogmatic  construction. 
The  historical  life  has  occupied  only  a  secondarj' 
place,  its  significance  being  found  mainly  in  the 
basis  it  supplies  for  this  construction  or  interpre- 
tation. 

1.  Causes  of  the  7H0vement.  —  What  are  the 
causes  that  have  contributed  to  restore  the  figure 
of  Jesus  to  its  place  in  the  centre  of  religious 
thought  ?    We  shall  mention  three  as  the  chief. 

(a)  The  first  is  the  application  of  historical 
criticism  to  the  Gospel  narrative.  In  1835,  D.  F. 
Strauss  published  his  Lebcn  Jesit,  and  this  book 
proved  the  starting-point  of  a  critical  movement 
the  end  of  which  is  not  yet  in  sight.  The  results 
of  Strauss'  criticism  were  almost  purely  negative  : 


the  Gospel  story  was  resolved  into  a  tissue  of 
myths.  There  are  still  writers  who  find  in  that 
storj-  only  the  most  meagre  basis  of  fact ;  but  their 
conclusions  are  far  from  representing  the  general 
results  of  the  movement,  which  are  much  more 
positive  than  negative  in  their  character,  much 
more  constructive  than  destructive.  If  doubt  has 
been  east  on  some  of  the  facts  related  about  Jesus, 
and  if  the  influence  of  subsequent  ideas  has  been 
detected  here  and  there  in  the  presentation  of  His 
life  and  teaching,  the  substantial  truth  of  the 
Gospel  narrative  has  been  amply  vindicated. 
Moreover,  the  critical  study  of  the  NT  has  done 
for  Christ  what  that  of  the  OT  has  done  for  the 
prophets.  It  has  reconstructed  the  contemporary 
background,  given  us  a  better  understanding  of 
His  teaching,  and  enabled  us  to  see  the  Man  and 
His  work  in  their  human  envu-onment.  To  this 
enlarged  historical  knowledge  and  new  feeling  for 
the  historical,  we  owe  the  recognition  of  the  fact 
that  the  Christ  of  history  is  one  thing  and  the  con- 
ception of  His  Person  that  sprang  up  on  the  soil 
of  the  Church's  faith  another.  As  early  as  the 
Fourth  Gospel  the  two  images  had  been  blended 
into  one.  Still  further,  criticism  has  contributed 
to  the  return  to  Christ  by  the  mere  fact  that  it 
has  brought  the  problem  of  His  historical  reality 
and  significance  into  the  centre  of  attention  and 
interest.  Up  to  the  appearance  of  the  Leben  Jesu 
the  problems  that  occupied  the  theological  field 
were  almost  purely  speculative  :  when  Christ  was 
considered,  it  was  as  the  vehicle  or  symbol  of  certain 
speculative  idea,s.  The  retirement  of  the  specu- 
lative behind  the  historical  is  one  of  the  signs  of 
the  times. 

(b)  A  second  and  even  more  important  factor  in 
the  movement  '  back  to  Christ '  is  the  widespread 
dissatisfaction  with  the  traditional  statements  of 
Christianity.  Since  the  rationalistic  movement  of 
the  18th  cent,  the  history  of  dogma  has  been  in 
the  main  a  history  of  dismtegration.  Those  who 
seek  to  go  behind  the  creeds,  back  to  the  source 
of  our  religion,  proceed  on  the  ground  that  the 
creeds  do  not  represent,  with  any  sufficient  correct- 
ness or  adequacy,  either  the  conceptions  that  Jesus 
taught  or  the  significance  that  His  Person  has  for 
faith.  All  we  can  do  here  is  to  indicate  the  main 
lines  which  the  criticism  of  dogma  has  followed. 

When  we  examine  the  formulas  of  Nica-a  and 
Chalcedon,  in  which  the  Being  of  God  and  the 
Person  of  Christ  are  determined,  we  find  one  basal 
conception  underlying  them  all.  It  is  the  con- 
ception of  Substance.  God  is  conceived  primarily 
as  the  Absolute  Substance;  that  is  to  say,  as  the 
indeterminate,  unchanging  and  permanent  ground 
of  the  knowable  world  of  variety,  change,  and 
transience.  Christ  is  true  God  because  He  shares 
in  the  Divine  Substance ;  and  because  He  has 
taken  up  human  nature  or  substance  into  union 
with  His  Divine  substance.  He  is  also  true  man. 
The  inner  relations  of  the  Godhead— Fatherhood, 
Sonship,  the  Procession  of  the  Holy  Spirit— are 
all  expressed  in  terms  of  this  category.  It  is 
true  that  the  Church  had  other  things  to  say 
about  God  and  Christ  than  those  of  its  formulas  ; 
still  the  formulas  were  regarded  as  conveying  the 
deepest  and  most  vital  truths,  and  their  acceptance 
was  made  the  criterion  of  orthodoxy  and  the 
condition  of  salvation.  If  the  ethical  was  recog- 
nized, it  occupied  only  a  subordinate  position  in 
comparison  with  the  metaphysical.  Now,  what 
is  this  idea  of  Substance  which  i)lays  so  great  a 
role  in  the  creeds?  It  was  not  derived  from  Christ 
or  the  New  Testament.  It  was  borrowed  from 
Hellenistic  philosophy  ;  and  « liat  it  originally 
answered  was  not  iiny  reli,:.'iuii^s  need,  but  the 
purely  intellectual  dfniaiul  that  all  the  manifold- 
ness  of  this  time-world  shall  be  reducible  to  the 


BACK  TO  CHRIST 


BACK  TO  CHRIST 


unity  of  a  single  principle.  Even  from  a  philo- 
sophical point  of  view  the  idea  of  Substance  is 
open  to  fatal  objections  as  a  principle  by  which 
to  explain  personal  or,  indeed,  any  relations.  To 
modern  thought  Substance  is  not  a  concrete 
reality ;  it  is  nothing  more  than  the  most  abstract 
of  all  ideas.  To  hypostatize  abstractions,  equip 
them  with  causal  power,  and  employ  them  as 
principles  of  explanation,  was  a  peculiarity  of 
Greek  thought,  and  one  that  it  is  hopeless  to 
revive.  The  use  which  the  creeds  make  of  this 
idea  is  even  more  objectionable  when  considered 
from  the  standpoint  of  religion.  Absolute  Sub- 
stance has  nothing  in  common  with  the  holy, 
personal  Will  of  the  prophets,  or  with  the  gracious 
Father  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ.  One  cannot,  on 
such  a  foundation,  build  up  a  Christian  conception 
of  God.  And  to  say  that  Christ  is  Divine  in 
virtue  of  His  participation  in  the  Divine  Sub- 
stance, is  not  to  present  Him  in  any  character  that 
makes  Him  the  object  of  our  trust.  What  gives 
Christ  His  significance  for  faith  is  the  fact  that 
in  His  Person  and  ministry  faith  recognizes  the 
revelation  of  God's  gracious  will  towards  sinful 
men.  To  substitute  a  divinity  of  Substance  for 
a  divinity  of  Revelation  is  to  remove  Christ  trom 
the  realm  of  faith  into  that  of  speculation ;  and, 
further,  since  the  category  of  substance  is  at 
bottom  a  physical  category,  it  is  to  rank  the 
physical  above  the  personal  and  ethical. 

In  formulating  these  metaphysical  doctrines,  the 
Church  no  doubt  believed  that  it  was  safeguarding 
vital  religious  interests.  What  seemed  at  stake 
was  nothing  less  than  the  reality  of  the  salvation 
mediated  by  Christ.  But,  it  is  contended,  the  con- 
ception of  salvation  that  the  Nicene  and  Chalcedon 
formulas  were  designed  to  safeguard  is  not  an 
ethical,  but  a  metapliysical,  or,  more  correctly, 
physical,  conception.  The  evil  from  which  deliver- 
ance is  sought  IS  not  primarily  sin ;  it  is  the  mor- 
tality that  belongs  to  our  fallen  nature ;  and  the 
good  salvation  brings  is  not  ethical  communion 
with  God,  but  participation  in  eternal  life,  which 
is  thought  of  as  a  natural  quality  of  the  Divine 
substance.  Human  substance  is  deified,  invested 
with  the  quality  of  immortality,  by  being  taken 
up  into  and  penetrated  by  Divine  substance.  It 
is  this  metaphysical  conception  of  salvation  that 
requires  a  metaphysical  Christ.  Christ  must  be 
God  and  man  in  the  substantial  sense,  since  it  was 
in  His  Person  that  the  penetration  (fVixwp'/ins)  of 
human  substance  by  Divine  took  place.  It  is 
obvious  that  such  a  conception  of  Christ's  Person 
can  have  littlo  or  no  significance  for  those  who 
regard  religious  relationships  as  being  at  their 
deepest  and  highest  personal  and  ethical.  An 
ethical  conception  of  Redemption,  as  a  change  in 
our  relation  to  God  ettected  within  our  conscious- 
ness, requires  us  to  seek  the  significance  of  Christ 
not  in  the  metaphysical  background  of  His  nature, 
but  in  the  ethical  and  religious  traits  of  His  charac- 
ter, which  disclose  to  us  the  heart  of  God,  and  have 
the  power  to  awaken  within  us  the  response  of 
love  and  faith. 

In  the  theology  of  the  Greek  Church  the  work 
of  Christ  was  summed  up  in  His  Incarnation.  In 
that  act  salvation  was  already  achieved.  A  more 
practical  and  ethical  conception  entered  the  Church 
with  the  great  figure  of  Augustine.  The  meta- 
physical antithesis  of  mortal,  creaturely  life  and 
eternal,  Divine  life  retired  before  the  ethical  an- 
tithesis of  sin  and  glace.  There  was  a  transference 
of  empliasis  from  the  metaphysical  Incarnation  to 
the  ethical  Atonement.  The  change  marked  an 
important  advance.  Yet  in  the  doctrine  of  the 
Atonement  as  formulated  by  Anselm,  and  even  as 
subsequently  modified,  the  etliical  does  not  appear 
in    its   purity,  but  only  under   the  form   of  the 


juristic.  The  work  of  Christ  is  interpreted  by 
means  of  categories  borrowed  from  the  legal  dis- 
cipline of  the  Roman  Church.  But  ethical  re- 
lationships and  ethical  ends  cannot  be  adequately 
expressed  in  terms  of  criminal  law.  The  juristic 
no  less  than  the  metaphysical  conceptions  of  the 
old  theology  have  lost  their  hold  on  the  modern 
mind.  We  interpret  religious  relations  now  in 
terms  of  ethics  and  psychology. 

(f)  The  third  cause  that  has  operated  in  bringing 
the  historical  Person  and  work  of  Christ  into  the 
foreground,  has  been  the  new  sense — reflected  in 
the  writings  of  men  like  Goethe,  Emerson,  and 
Carlyle — of  the  importance  of  great  personalities 
as  factors  of  historical  change  and  progress.  Neither 
Catholicism  nor  traditional  Protestantism  can  be 
said  to  have  shown  much  appreciation  of  the  re- 
ligious and  ethical  forces  that  radiate  from  Jesus 
as  a  historical  personality.  The  saving  activity  of 
God  in  Christ  has  been  conceived  either  in  a  mysti- 
cal, semi-mechanical  way,  as  afl'ecting  us  through 
an  operation  in  the  substance  or  background  of  our 
being ;  or,  again,  rationalistically,  as  mediated 
through  ideas  or  doctrines.  The  Rationalism  of 
the  18th  century  and  the  speculative  philosophy  of 
the  19th,  while  rejecting  tlie  former  of  these  views, 
only  accentuated  the  latter.  History  was  resolved 
into  a  dialectic  of  ideas  :  not  personalities  but  idea-s 
were  regarded  as  the  creative  forces.  In  the  specu- 
lative theology  of  the  Hegelian  period,  thereligious 
importance  of  Jesus  was  found  almost  solely  in  the 
fact  that  He  was  the  introducer  or  the  symbol  of 
tlie  supreme  religious  idea.  This  idea — the  essen- 
tial oneness  of  God  and  man,  man  as  the  eternal 
Son  of  God  —  is  the  active  and  creative  thing. 
There  is  still  a  large  and  important  school,  repre- 
sented by  writers  like  Green,  Edward  Caird, 
Pfleiderer,  A.  Dorner,  which  continues  the  Hege- 
lian tradition.  But  the  past  half  century  has 
witnessed  a  reaction  from  this  exaggerated  in- 
tellectualism.  It  is  being  more  and  more  widelj' 
recognized  that  the  elevation  and  enrichment  of 
man's  spiritual  life  have  been  efl'ected  far  less  by  the 
movements  and  instincts  of  the  mass,  or  by  the 
introduction  and  development  of  ideas,  than  by  the 
appearance  on  the  stage  of  history  of  great  creative 
personalities.  Such  personalities  are  fountains  of 
life  for  many  succeeding  generations.  In  no  pro- 
vince is  their  importance  so  marked  as  in  that  of 
religion.  And  Christ  is  the  supreme  personality. 
It  was  the  impression  produced  by  His  Person, 
even  more  than  the  new  ideas  He  taught,  that 
created  the  Christian  Church.  '  The  life  was  the 
light  of  men.'  And  in  whatever  way  we  account 
for  it,  it  is  certain  tliat  Christian  ideas  cannot  be 
separated  from  Christ  without  being  stripped  of 
much  of  their  power  to  maintain  themselves  in 
men's  minds  and  hearts.  The  recognition  of  sucli 
facts  has  had  no  small  share  in  bringing  the 
Person  of  Christ  into  the  centre  of  religious 
thought. 

2.  Theological  reconstruction. — We  pass  from  the 
causes  that  have  brought  about  a  return  to  the 
historical  Christ,  to  consider  some  of  the  attempts 
at  theological  reconstruction  or  revision  to  which 
the  movement  has  led.  What  is  its  dogmatic 
significance  ?  The  movement  is  not  a  uniform  one  ; 
it  has  taken  various  directions  ;  and  wliile  most  of 
the  thought  of  the  day  confesses  its  influence,  this 
influence  is  much  more  marked  in  some  cases  than 
in  others.  We  need  not  take  into  account  a  writer 
like  Gore,  who,  though  insisting  on  the  importance 
of  a  knowledge  of  the  historical  Christ,  yet  derives 
his  theology  not  from  Christ,  but  from  the  (Ecu- 
menical Councils ;  or  like  Loisy,  who,  indeed,  dis- 
tinguishes between  the  Christ  of  history  and  the 
Christ  of  faith,  but  yet  allows  the  former  little 
significance  except  as  the  starting-point  of    the 


164 


BACK  TO  CHRIST 


BACK  TO  CHRIST 


movement  known  as  Chiistianity.  Our  attention 
must  be  limited  to  tlie  theologies  in  which  the  new 
feeling  for  the  historical  Christ  has  exerted  some 
marked  influence. 

(1)  We  begin  with  that  form  of  the  movement 
which  departs  least  from  traditional  orthodoxy, 
and  to  which  the  terra  '  Christo-centric '  is  usually 
applied.  In  this  case  the  return  to  Christ  has  not 
led  to  anything  like  a  reconstruction  of  doctrine  ; 
the  most  that  has  been  undertaken  is  a  revision. 
The  traditional  doctrines  receive  a  reinterpretation 
and  a  fresh  grounding  in  the  light  of  the  fuller 
knowledge  of,  and  keener  feeling  for,  the  Christ  of 
history.  In  the  words  of  the  most  distinguished 
representative  of  the  Christo-centric  movement  in 
this  country,  '  We  cannot  conceive  and  describe 
the  supreme  historical  Person  -without  coming  face 
to  face  with  tlie  profoundest  of  all  the  problems  in 
theology  ;  but  then  we  may  come  to  them  from  an 
entirely  changed  point  of  view,  through  the  Person 
that  has  to  be  interpreted  ratlier  than  through  the 
interpretations  of  His  Person.  AVhen  this  change 
has  been  etlected,  theology  ceases  to  be  scliolastic 
and  becomes  historical. '  * 

This  claim  to  break  with  the  scholastic  method 
is  partially,  but  only  partially,  justified.  The 
doctrines  of  the  Church  are  no  longer  treated  as 
sacrosanct,  and  as  the  first  principles  of  theological 
construction.  Still  further,  it  is  recognized  that 
even  Scripture  cannot  be  received  as  the  ultimate 
.source  and  norm  of  doctrine.  Tlie  Apostolic  con- 
ception of  Christianity  is  not  formally  authori- 
tative. We  must  not  look  at  Christ  merely  throu";h 
St.  Paul's  eyes ;  it  is  possible  for  us  to  see  tTie 
Christ  whom  St.  Paul  saw,  and  to  estimate  St. 
Paul's  thoughts  from  the  vantage  ground  of  this 
immediate  knowledge.  The  idea  of  an  external 
authority  is  not,  however,  surrendered  ;  it  is  only 
carried  back  to  the  last  possible  resort,  the  con- 
sciousness of  Christ.  Whatever  can  be  derived 
from  the  consciousness  of  Christ  has  an  autliori- 
tative  claim  on  our  acceptance.  And  since  His 
history  is  of  a  piece  with  His  consciousness,  tlie 
two  must  be  taken  togetlier.  The  theological  task 
is  therefore  to  interpret  God  tlirough  the  history 
and  the  consciousness  of  the  historical  Christ. 

But  here  the  question  postponed  at  the  beginning 
presses  for  an  answer.  The  term  '  historical  Christ ' 
is  not  unambiguous.  AVhat  are  the  contents  of 
His  consciousness,  what  are  the  facts  in  His  history, 
which  give  to  Him  His  meaning  for  faith,  and  which 
must  be  regarded  as  constituting  His  historical 
l)ersonality  ?  We  know  Jesus  from  the  Synoptic 
Gospels  as  the  teacher  of  an  ethical  ideal  supreme 
in  its  depth  and  height,  and  of  a  religion  of  pure 
inwardness  and  spirituality.  We  obtain  glimpses 
into  an  inner  life  of  intimate  and  unbroken  fellow- 
ship with  God.  He  was  conscious  of  a  unique 
vocation,  to  bring  men  to  the  knowledge  and  ser- 
vice of  the  Father  in  heaven,  and  to  introduce  the 
Reign  of  God  on  eartli.  In  His  consciousness  of 
this  vocation  and  of  His  equipment  for  it.  He 
accepted  the  title  of  Messiah.  He  carried  out  His 
vocation  witli  an  obedience  to  God  tliat  never 
wavered,  with  a  trust  in  God  that  no  stoim  could 
shake,  with  a  love  that  shrank  from  no  sacrifice, 
and  that  never  giew  cold.  He  accepted  the  cross 
in  the  confidence  that  God's  purpose  would  not  be 
overthrown  by  His  death,  but  established.  This  at 
least  criticism  leaves  untouched  ;  and  for  some  this 
human  Jesus  is  the  Jesus  of  history,  and,  at  tlie 
same  time,  tlie  Divine  Christ,  the  Saviour  of  tlie 
world.  The  constitutive  facts  in  His  Person  and 
history  are  the  religious  and  ethical  facts.  But 
such  is  not  the  view  of  those  whose  position  we  are 
now  describing.  Accepting  these  facts,  they  do 
not  regard  them  as  supplying  an  adequate  con- 
*  F!iirbairii,  Christ  i'»  Modern  Theology,  p.  8. 


ception  of  the  Christ  of  history,  or  as  disclosing  the 
deepest  meaning  of  His  life.  For  Christo-centric 
as  for  traditional  theology,  tlie  elements  of  cardinal 
importance  in  Christ's  consciousness  and  history 
are  the  miraculous  elements.  The  facts  that  give 
to  His  inner  life  its  character  are  His  moral 
perfection  and  consciousness  of  sinlessness.  His 
assertion  of  a  unique  knowledge  of  God,  and  of  a 
Sonship  different  in  kind  from  that  possible  to  His 
disciples.  His  assertion  of  His  Messiahship  and  pre- 
existence.  His  demand  for  absolute  devotion  to  His 
Person,  His  claim  to  a  superhuman  authority  in 
forgiving  sins  and  in  dealing  with  OT  institu- 
tions and  laws.  His  claim  to  be  the  Saviour  of  the 
world,  the  arbiter  of  human  destiny,  the  final 
Judge.  Similarly  His  outer  life  receives  its  char- 
acter from  the  Virgin-birth,  the  Miracles  (inter- 
jjreted  in  the  strict  sense),  and,  above  all,  from  the 
bodily  Resurrection.  The  historical  Christ  is  the 
transcendent  and  miraculous  Christ,  the  Christ 
who  was  conscious  of  a  superhuman  dignity,  and 
who  was  declared  by  the  resurrection  from  the 
dead  to  be  the  Son  of  God  witli  power  (Ro  l"*). 

This  conception  of  Christ,  with  its  subordination 
of  tlie  moral  and  religious  in  His  consciousness 
and  history  to  the  miraculous,  carries  with  it  two 
momentous  consequences.  In  the  first  place,  it  in- 
volves the  view,  is  indeed  founded  upon  it,  that 
tlie  Revelation  of  God  is  to  be  found  not  primarily 
in  Christ's  Person  and  ministry,  but  in  the  doc- 
trines in  wliicli  these  are  interpreted.  Christ  is 
brought  before  us  as  primarily  a  problem  that 
demands  solution.  What  constitute  Him  a  prob- 
lem are  the  above-mentioned  facts  in  His  con- 
sciousness and  liistory,  which  cannot  be  accounted 
for  except  on  the  hypothesis  that  He  was  a  super- 
human, supernatural  Being — a  Being  that  stood 
in  a  relation  to  God  beyond  any  that  can  be 
described  in  ethical  terms.  These  facts  are  singled 
out  as  the  essential  ones,  just  because  they  set  the 
problem  and  provide  the  basis  for  the  transcen- 
tlental  hypotliesis.  The  solution  of  the  problem 
is  given  in  the  NT  doctrines  of  Christ's  Person 
and  work.  The  Person  and  work  constitute  the 
facts ;  the  doctrines  supply  their  explanation  or 
interpretation.  Apart  from  the  doctrinal  inter- 
liretation  the  facts  might  still  retain  a  certain 
ethico-religious  significance,  but  they  would  lose 
their  highest,  their  essential,  meaning.  It  is  the 
interpretation  or  construction  that  is  the  essential 
thing  in  Christianity.  The  gospel  is  not  given 
with  the  character,  teaching,  and  ministry  of 
Christ,  in  tlieir  direct  appeal  to  the  heart  and 
conscience ;  only  the  doctrinal  interpretation  of 
these  facts  —  that  the  pre  -  existent  Son  of  God 
assumed  human  nature,  lived  among  men,  and 
atoned  by  His  death  for  their  sin — has  a  right  to 
the  name.  Christianity  is  given  only  when  Christ 
is  speculatively  construed.* 

Though  the  need  for  such  a  construction  can  be 
demonstrated,  the  construction  itself  is  not  to  be 
regarded  as  a  work  of  human  freedom.  We  re- 
ceive it  as  authoritatively  given.  To  traditional 
theology  the  autliority  is  inspired  Scripture,  the 
witness  of  the  Apostolic  writers  no  less  than 
Christ's  self-witness.  It  is  characteristic  of  the 
Christo-centric  school  that,  with  a  freer  view  of 
inspiration,  it  admits  only  the  self-witness  as  the 
ultimate  authority.  Only  Christ  Himself  could 
know  and  reveal  the  secret  of  His  unique  person- 
ality. The  doctrine  of  the  Apostolic  writers  is 
not  to  be  regarded  as  the  product  of  a  religious 
experience  created  by  Christ,  but  as  the  repro- 
duction or  development  of  ideas  received  from 
Christ's  lips.  These  writers  are  only  tlie  channel 
by  which  the  interpretation  has  reached  us,  not 

•  Fairbaim,  I'htlosophy  of  the  Christian  Iteliyiun,  p.  306. 


BACK  TO  CHRIST 


BACK  TO  CHRIST 


165 


A  tloctiinal  coiiueptiuu  of  llevelatioii  requires 
as  its  correlate  a  conception  of  Faith  as  primarily 
an  intellectual  act.  Faith  must  be  delined  as  tlie 
assent  of  the  mind  to  a  proposition  on  the  ground 
of  authority.  This  assent,  however,  though  the 
primary  element  in  faith,  is  not  treated  as  the 
whole  of  it ;  it  becomes  effective  only  when  re- 
inforced by  the  practical  elements  of  feeling  and 
will. 

More  fruitful,  perhaps,  than  its  attempt  at  a 
fresh  groundinfj  of  doctrine  has  been  the  contribu- 
tion of  the  Christo-centric  school  to  the  revision  of 
doctrine.  It  has  sought  to  free  the  formulas  that 
describe  the  Triune  Being  of  God  and  the  Person 
and  work  of  Christ  from  their  over-relinement, 
to  translate  them  into  the  categories  of  modern 
thought,  and  to  make  them  more  ethical  and  less 
metaphysical. 

(2)  Wo  pass  to  a  second,  and  much  more  radical 
phase  of  the  movement.  To  many,  '  back  to  Christ ' 
means  back  from  historical  Christianity,  the  re- 
ligion founded  upon  Christ,  to  the  religion  which 
Christ  taught,  and  which  we  see  embodied  in  His 
life.  More  than  a  century  ago  the  position  was 
summed  up  by  Lessing  in  his  famous  saying, 
'  The  Christian  religion  has  been  tried  for  eighteen 
centuries ;  the  religion  of  Christ  remains  to  be 
tried.' 

That  the  stream  of  religion  flows  purer  at  its 
fountainhead  than  at  its  lower  reaches  is  a  fact 
which  the  study  of  every  historical  religion  con- 
firms. As  a  religion  advances  through  history,  it 
loses  something  of  its  idealism  and  becomes  more 
secular,  takes  up  foreign  elements,  accumulates 
dogmas  and  ceremonies,  parts  with  its  simplicity 
and  spontaneity,  and  Ijccomes  more  and  more  a 
human  construction.  And  every  religious  reform 
has  signified  a  throwing  off  of  foreign  accretions, 
and  a  return  to  the  simplicity  and  purity  of  the 
.source.  Did  not  Christ  Himself  represent  a  re- 
action from  the  elaborate  lethal  and  ceremonial 
system  of  Judaism  to  the  simpler  a,nd  more  ethical 
faith  of  the  proiihets?  The  Reformation  was  a 
return  to  piimitive  Christianity,  but  less  to  Christ 
than  to  St.  Paul.  But  we  must,  it  is  maintained, 
go  behind  even  St.  Paul  and  the  early  disciples. 
It  is  true,  indeed,  that,  in  the  NT,  Cliristianity 
is  not  the  complex  thing  it  afterwards  became ; 
still,  the  process  of  intellectual  and  ceremonial 
elaboration  has  begun.  If  we  have  not  the  fully- 
developed  .system  of  dogma  and  sacrament,  we 
have  at  least  the  germs  out  of  which  it  arose  ;  and 
while  much  must  be  regarded  as  the  legitimate 
development  of  princi|3les  implicit  in  Christ's 
gospel,  there  is  also  the  introduction  of  a  foreign 
element. 

Let  us  contrast  at  one  or  two  points  the  gospel 
as  proclaimed  by  Jesus  with  the  Church's  render- 
ing of  it.  Jesus'  gospel  contains  no  Christology. 
It  is  the  glad  tidings  of  a  Father  in  heaven,  whose 
love  and  care  embrace  all  His  creatures,  in  whose 
eyes  every  human  soul  is  precious,  and  who  is  at 
once  the  righteous  Judge  and  the  pitiful,  forgiving 
Saviour.  Jesus  was  conscious  of  His  unique  posi- 
tion as  the  Mediator  of  salvation,  but  He  never 
(according  to  the  Synoptic  tradition)  required  faith 
in  Himself  in  the  same  sense  as  He  required  faith 
in  God.  God  was  the  one  object  of  faith  ;  and  if 
Jesus  called  men  to  Himself,  it  was  only  that  He 
might  lead  them  to  God,  and  teach  them  to  love, 
trust,  and  obey  God.  Turning  to  the  gospel  of 
the  Church,  we  find  a  doctrine  of  Christ's  Person 
at  the  heart  of  it.  To  believe  the  gospel  is  no 
longer,  in  the  first  place  at  least,  to  receive  God's 
message  of  love  and  forgiveness,  and  to  obey  His 
summons  to  repentance,  trust,  and  service ;  it  is 
to  believe  that  Jesus  is  Messiah,  a  pre-existent, 
heavenly  Being,  the  second  Person  in  the  Trinity. 


A  doctrine  of  Jesus'  Person  is  substituted  for  the 
Heavenly  Father  as  the  immediate  object  of  faith. 

A,i,'iuii,  Jesus'  go.spel  contains  nothing  like  a 
developed  doctrine  of  Redemption.  The  question 
as  to  the  rationale  of  forgiveness  is  never  raised, 
and  there  is  no  hint  of  the  inability  of  God  to 
forgive  without  a  propitiation.  Forgiveness  is 
presented  as  flowing  directly  from  God's  fatherly 
love  (Lk  15).  And  as  little  do  we  find  the  other 
propositions  included  in  the  Church's  doctrine  of 
Redemption.  Jesus,  indeed,  teaches  that  none  is 
good  (Mt  19"),  that  even  at  the  best  we  are  un- 
profitable servants,  who  have  done  no  more  than 
our  duty  (Lk  17'") ;  but  He  knows  nothing  of 
inherited  guilt,  radical  corruption  of  human 
nature,  human  inability  to  do  any  good  work. 
In  the  gospel  of  Jesus  we  are  in  the  region  of 
direct  moral  intuition ;  nothing  is  there  merely 
because  apologetic  or  .system  required  it.  We 
are  also  in  the  region  of  moral  sanity.  There 
is  nothing  of  asceticism,  and  no  attempt  to  culti- 
vate a  feeling  of  sinfulness.  Men  are  bidden 
strive  to  be  perfect  as  their  Father  in  heaven 
is  perfect  (Mt  5*').  Comparing  the  gospel  of 
the  Church  with  that  of  Christ,  we  tind  com- 
plication instead  of  simplicity,  theological  con- 
struction instead  of  intuition,  and  sometimes 
morbidness  and  exaggeration  in  place  of  sanity. 

Finally,  while  the  teaching  of  Jesus  places  the 
centre  of  gravity  in  the  will,  the  Church  transfers 
it  to  the  intellect.  '  This  do  and  thou  shalt  live ' 
(Lk  10°*)  is  the  command  of  Jesus :  what  the 
Church  requires  is  belief  rather  than  conduct. 

The  gospel  of  Jesus  represents  the  crown  of 
religion ;  it  is  the  highest  and,  in  its  innermost 
nature,  the  final  stage  of  religious  development. 
No  other  historical  religion  can  endure  a  moment's 
comparison  with  it.  And  the  religions  manu- 
factured out  of  a  few  philosophical  prmciples  have 
still  less  claim  to  serious  consideration,  since  they 
are  wholly  lacking  in  everytliing  that  gives  a 
religion  vitality.  It  can  be  said  with  literal  truth 
that,  for  any  civilized  community,  the  choice  is 
not  between  Christianity  and  m.ihc  Dtlicr  reli;,'ion, 
but  between  Christianity  and  no  r,  liui^n  :ii  all. 

While  the  religion  of  Jesus  i-  n -.ndiil  .-is  the 
one  faith  capable  of  meeting  the  lueil  of  this  and 
of  every  age,  it  is  not  meant  that  it  can  be  re- 
produced in  every  detail.  We  must  distinguish 
between  central  and  peripheral  elements,  and 
between  the  enduring  spirit  and  the  passing 
form  of  manifestation.  We  cannot,  for  example, 
revive  the  primitive  expectation  of  the  world's 
speedy  end,  or  the  ideas  about  angels,  Satan, 
unclean  spirits  as  the  agents  in  disease,  which 
Jesus  shared  with  His  contemporaries.  The 
gospel  must  be  translated  into  the  language  of 
to-day,  and  its  spirit  applied  to  the  relations  of 
our  modern  life. 

How  is  Jesus  Himself  regarded  by  those  who 
represent  this  type  of  thought?  All  speculative 
Christology,  whether  Biblical  or  ecclesiastical,  is 
rejected,  and  it  is  asserted  that  such  Christology 
has  no  basis  in  the  language  which  Jesus  useil 
about  Himself.  Further,  it  is  held  that  not  Jesus, 
but  the  God  whom  Jesus  revealed,  is  the  imme- 
diate object  of  oiir  faith.  At  the  .same  time,  the 
unique  significance  of  Jesus,  not  only  in  the  history 
of  religion  but  also  for  the  individual,  is  earnestly 
recognized.  We  quote  the  confession  of  liousset : 
'  Thou  art  our  leader,  to  whom  there  is  none  like, 
the  leader  in  the  highest  things,  the  leader  of  our 
soul  to  Crod,  the  Way,  the  Truth,  and  the  Life.'  ** 
The  figure  of  Jesus  is  the  grandest  and  most  per- 
fect that  God  has  bestowed  on  humanity  through- 
out the  long  course  of  its  upward  journev.  Bousset 
can  even  adopt  the  confession  of  St.  Paul,  '  God 
'  Eoussct,  Das  Wesen  da-  Religion,  p.  2C7. 


166 


BACK  TO  CHRIST 


BACK  TO  CHRIST 


was  in  Christ '  (2  Co  5'").  Harnack  goes  a  step 
further.  'Jesus,'  he  says,  'is  the  way  to  the 
Father,  and  He  is  also  the  judge  ordained  by 
the  Father.  Not  as  a  constituent  does  He  belong 
to  the  Gospel,  but  He  has  been  its  personal  realiza- 
tion and  power,  and  will  always  be  felt  as  such.'* 
But  in  thus  insisting  on  the  dependence  of  the 
gospel  on  the  Person  behind  it  for  its  power  in 
awakening  faith,  Harnack  is  to  be  regarded  as 
representing  tlie  type  of  thought  to  be  described 
in  the  next  section  rather  than  that  described  here. 

(3)  The  last  type  of  theological  thought  which 
has  to  be  considered,  as  bearing  upon  it  the  impress 
of  the  modern  feeling  for  tlie  historical  Christ,  is 
the  most  imjjortant  of  all.  It  is  that  represented 
by  the  great  name  of  Ritschl.  For  Ritschlianisni, 
even  more  than  for  traditional  orthodoxy,  Christ  is 
the  sum  and  substance  of  Christianity.  In  Him 
the  living  God  reveals  Himself  to  men  ;  He  is  the 
fact  in  history  in  which  God  meets  us,  to  awaken 
our  faith  and  lead  us  into  the  blessedness  of  His 
fellowship.  What  is  it  in  Christ  that  gives  Him 
His  so  momentous  significance  ?  The  answer  which 
Ritschlianisni  gives  to  this  question  involves  a 
new  interpretation  of  the  great  ChrLstian  ideas, — 
Revelation,  Gospel,  Doctrine,  Faith, — only  it  is 
claimed  that  this  interpretation  is  nothing  more 
than  a  carrying  out  of  the  fundamental  principles 
of  the  Reformation. 

In  Catholic,  and  not  less  in  traditional  Pro- 
testant, theology  the  significance  of  Christ  is  con- 
centrated in  the  doctrines  in  which  His  Person 
and  work  have  received  their  interpretation. 
Christianity  is  summed  up  in  the  great  speculative 
ideas  of  the  eternal  Sonship,  the  Incarnation,  and 
the  atoning  Death.  These  ideas  are  regarded  as 
constituting  the  content  of  Revelation  and  the 
object  of  faith  ;  into  them  the  meaning  and  power 
of  Jesus'  life  are  gathered,  and  to  believe  them  is 
to  believe  the  gospel.  Doctrine,  Gospel,  Revela- 
tion are  treated  as  one  and  the  same  thing.  For 
Ritschlianisni,  on  the  other  hand,  it  is  not  the 
doctrinal  interpretation  that  is  the  vital  thing,  but 
the  Person  and  work  interpreted.  Doctrine  has 
its  own  importance,  but  it  must  not  be  identi- 
fied with  Revelation  or  with  the  Gospel ;  and  con- 
sequently it  is  not  the  object  of  faith.  The  im- 
portance of  doctrine  lies  in  this,  that  it  brings  to 
expression  what  faith  has  found  in  Christ.  The 
appropriation  of  the  Revelation  of  God  in  Christ 
results  in  a  new  knowledge  of  God  and  of  human 
life,  and  it  is  the  task  of  dogmatics  to  exhibit  this 
knowledge  in  its  purity,  free  from  any  admixture 
of  phUosopliical  speculation,  and  in  its  connexion 
with  the  inner  life.  Doctrine  is  the  explicitly 
formulated  knowledge  of  faith.  But  the  doctrine's 
in  which  another's  faith  has  expressed  itself  cannot 
be  received  by  us  as  the  ground  of  our  faith.  It  is 
not  by  appropriating  St.  Paul's  thoughts  about 
Christ — that  He  was  a  propitiatory  offering,  a  pre- 
existent  heavenly  Being,  etc.  —  that  we  become 
Christians,  but  only  by  trusting  Christ  as  St.  Paul 
trusted  Him.  When  there  is  this  direct  contact 
with  Christ,  St.  Paul's  thoughts  will  be  reproduced 
as  the  fruit  of  our  own  experience,  and  only  then 
will  they  have  real  meaning  for  us.  To  substitute 
for  Christ  as  the  object  of  faith  a  doctrine  of  His 
Person  and  work  is  to  remove  faith  from  its  genetic 
ground.  For  the  creative  thing  in  Christianity  is 
not  the  doctrines  which,  with  more  or  less  truth 
and  fulness,  describe  Christ's  significance  ;  it  is  the 
personal  life  in  its  inexhaustible  wealth  of  mean- 
ing and  power,  and  as  it  manifests  itself  to  us  in 
word  and  deed.  Doctrine  is  a  product  of  faith,  not 
its  causal  ground.  Moreover,  the  substitution  of 
doctrine  for  Christ  has  this  further  result,  tluit  it 
carries  with  it  a  false  view  of  faith.  Faith  is  then 
*  Harnack,  Das  Weun  dee  Christenlums,  p.  91. 


necessarily  conceived  in  the  Catholic  manner  as 
the  submission  of  the  mind  to  a  proposition  on  the 
ground  of  its  authority.  But  if  the  Reformation 
has  taught  us  anything,  it  is  that  faith  is  not 
assent  to  a  doctrine,  but  trust  in  the  living  God. 
F'aith  is  no  product  of  our  own  activity  ;  it  is  God- 
created — the  result  of  the  contact  of  the  soul  with 
Divine  reality.  In  the  Person  of  Christ,  God  so 
reveals  Himself  to  us  as  to  command  our  reverence, 
trust,  and  devotion. 

Not  a  doctrine,  therefore,  but  a  life  is  for 
Ritschlian  theology  the  medium  of  Revelation 
and  the  object  of  faith.  But  the  further  question 
arises.  What  are  the  facts  in  the  life  that  clothe 
it  with  Divine  meaniu"  and  power?  In  traditional 
theology  the  main  empliasis  falls  upon  the  element 
of  the  miraculous.  This  follows  necessarily  from 
the  position  assigned  to  doctrine.  Doctrine  is  the 
object  of  faith,  and  it  is  the  miraculous  facts — 
Virgin-birth,  Miracles,  Sinlessness,  unique  Know- 
ledge of  Goiid,  bodily  Resurrection  —  that  supply 
the  basis  for  the  dogmatic  structure.  But  in  the 
Ritschlian  system  no  importance  is  attached  to 
the  miraculous  as  such.  The  attempt  to  demon- 
strate the  Divine  significance  of  Jesus  in  a  theo- 
retical (or  causal)  way  is  abandoned)  as  at  once 
imix)ssible  and  mistaken.  It  is  not  possible,  it  is 
maintained,  by  means  of  the  facts  to  \yhich  tradi- 
tional theology  appeals,  to  prove  scientifically  that 
Jesus  cannot  be  explained  by  the  causes  operative 
in  history,  and  that  the  hypothesis  of  a  transcen- 
dental origin  and  nature  must  be  brought  into  the 
field.  Only  for  faith  is  a  miracle  a  proof  of  God's 
working ;  for  science  it  is  either  an  unexplained 
fact  or  a  deceptive  appearance.  Moreover,  it  is 
not  through  breaches  in  the  continuity  of  nature 
or  of  history  that  God  makes  His  presence  and 
activity  certain  to  us.  The  religious  view  of 
nature  or  history  is  no  product  of  causal  explana- 
tion. To  faith  alone  does  God  reveal  Himself, 
and  the  judgment  that  God  is  in  Christ  is  a  judg- 
ment of  faith.  To  consider  Jesus  in  the  light  of  a 
problem  that  has  to  be  explained  is  to  abandon 
the  religious  attitude  for  the  scientific. 

The  vital  facts  in  Christ's  life  are,  for  Ritsch- 
lianisni, those  that  exhibit  the  living  Person, 
and  His  activity  in  His  vocation.  The  Christ  who 
knew  God  as  Father,  who  never  turned  aside  from 
doing  the  Father's  will,  who  never  in  the  darkest 
vicissitudes  of  His  life  lost  His  confidence  in  the 
Father's  Avisdom,  power,  and  love,  and  who  by  His 
faith  overcame  the  world  and  conqiiered  death  ; 
the  Christ  who,  understanding  and  feeling  the 
evil  of  sin  as  none  else,  in  holy  love  and  pity 
sought  out  the  sinful,  making  them  His  com- 
panions and  opening  for  them  the  door  into  the 
Kingdom  of  God,  and  who  for  their  sakes  sur- 
rendered His  life  as  an  ottering,  enduring  the  cross 
and  despising  the  shame — this  is  at  once  the  Christ 
of  liistory  and  the  Christ  of  faith.  His  unique 
consciousness  of  God  and  His  sinlessness — or,  as  it 
is  better  described.  His  moral  perfection — do  not 
owe  their  religious  importance  to  their  serviceable- 
ness  as  proofs  of  a  transcendental  '  nature  ' ;  their 
importance  lies  in  their  inherent  worth  and  power 
as  elements  in  His  personality.  That  there  is 
something  inscrutable  in  Jesus'  consciousness  of 
God  is  strongly  maintained  ;  only  it  is  not  our 
inability  to  account  fur  Him  that  give.s  Him  His 
religious  significance.  Similarlj-  the  miracles  are 
not  to  be  viewed  as  proofs,  but  as  exhibiting  His 
gracious  activity  in  His  vocation.  What  of  the 
Resurrection  ?  Within  the  Ritschlian  school  there 
are  some  who  include  this  as  part  of  the  historically 
given  ground  of  faith.  The  view  of  the  majority, 
however,  and  the  one  that  seems  most  consistent 
with  the  general  position,  is  that  lielief  in  Jesus' 
eternal  existence  is  rather  the  final  outcome  of 


MCK  To  CHiRISf 


MND 


167 


faith  than  its  preliminary  condition.  Apart  from 
the  diliiculties  which  the  llesurrection  narratives 
present,  our  helief  that  Jesus  lives  is  not  one  that 
rests  on  human  testimony.  It  depends  on  the 
impression  produced  on  us  by  His  Person,  —  He 
could  not  be  holden  of  death  (Ac  2=^),— and  on  our 
acceptance  of  His  revelation  of  the  Father-God. 

The  question  has  been  raised  whether  it  is  the 
historical  or  the  exalted  Christ  that  is  the  object 
of  faith.  These  alternatives  are  not,  however,  so 
opposed  as  they  seem.  Most  would  admit  that 
our  conception  of  the  exalted  Christ,  if  it  is  not  to 
pass  into  the  region  of  pure  phantasy,  must  derive 
its  content  from  the  historical  life  ;  and  also,  that 
the  historical  Christ  must  be  thought  of,  not 
merely  as  a  figure  of  the  past,  but  as  alive  for 
evermore.  The  exalted  Christ  is  the  Christ  of 
history,  with  the  superadded  thought  that  He  is 
not  dead  but  risen,  and  at  the  right  hand  of  God. 

The  gospel,  the  glad  message  of  God's  Fatherly 
love  and  forgiveness,  is,  according  to  Ritschlian 
thought,  already  given  in  the  simple  proclamation 
of  Jesus.  To  complicate  this  simple  nroclamation 
with  doctrine  is  to  pervert  it.  But  this  is  not  to 
say  that  Christ  has  no  place  in  His  gospel.  In  the 
first  place,  it  is  from  Christ's  Personality,  and  from 
His  activity  in  His  vocation,  that  the  gospel  de- 
rives its  meaning.  Apart  from  His  ministry  of 
love,  our  conception  of  the  Fatherly  love  of  God 
can  have  but  little  living  content.  That  historical 
ministry  in  its  inexhaustible  richness  stands  as  the 
enduring  exhibition  of  what  Divine  love  means. 
The  dogmatic  conception  of  the  Father  surrender- 
ing His  eternal  Son  to  death  is  much  poorer  as  an 
exhibition  of  love  than  the  historical  reality.  So 
also  one  can  rise  to  the  height  of  the  gospel  con- 
ception of  God's  righteousness  and  mercy  only  as 
one  keeps  in  view  the  mind  and  character  of  Christ, 
and  His  treatment  of  sinners.  The  reconciliation 
of  these  two  attributes  is  not  a  matter  of  juris- 
prudence, as  the  Atonement  doctrine  makes  it ;  it 
is  the  secret  of  a  personal  life.  We  see  them  re- 
conciled in  the  mind  and  ministry  of  Jesus,  \\\\o, 
undefiled  and  separate  from  sinners,  yet  received 
them  into  His  fellowship. 

But  this  is  not  all.  In  analyzing  Christ's  sig- 
nificance, Ritschlian  theology  attaches  even  (greater 
importance  to  the  idea  of  Power.  Christ  is  that 
fact  through  which  God  enters  as  a  force  into 
history,  to  awaken  and  sustain  faith.  It  is  not 
natural  for  us  to  believe  the  gospel  of  God's  for- 
giveness and  Fatherly  love  and  care.  Bather  does 
faith  arise  as  a  victory  over  nature.  When  we 
contemplate  the  iron  system  of  mechanical  forces 
and  laws  that  beset  us  behind  and  before,  and 
beyond  which  no  theoretical  knowledge  can  con- 
duct us,  it  is  a  hard  matter  to  persuade  ourselves 
that  these  forces  and  laws  are  but  the  angels  and 
ministers  of  a  gracious  personal  will.  It  is  su- 
premely through  Christ  that  we  reach  this  assur- 
ance. He  is  tlie  Divine  fact  that  so  masters  us  as 
to  convince  us  that  not  mechanism,  but  the  Good 
is  the  ultimate  reality.  The  spiritual  might  of 
God  becomes  real  to  us  as  we  contemplate  the 
power  of  the  Good  in  Jesus'  life.  Forgiveness 
becomes  real  and  guilt  becomes  real  when  we  feel 
behind  them  the  throb  of  Jesus'  holy  love.  The 
great  redemptive  forces— faith,  love,  self-sacrifice, 
moral  fidelity — have  their  supreme  seat  and  centre 
in  the  Person  and  life  and  cross  of  the  man  Christ 
Jesus.  We  may  sum  up  the  position  by  saying 
that  in  Him  the  will  of  God  for  man's  salvation 
becomes  effective. 

Such  are  the  three  theological  types  in  which 
the  influence  of  the  movement  '  back  to  Christ'  is 
most  apparent.  It  would  be  premature  to  forecast 
the  ultimate  issue  of  the  movement.  But  one 
thing  is  certain.     So  momentous  an  event  as  the 


recovery  of  the  historical  figure  of  Christ  cannot 
leave  theology  exactly  as  it  found  it. 

Literature:—!.  (1)  Distinction  between  tlie  historical  and 
dogmatic  Clirist:  Kahler,  Der  sof/ejiaimte  historigche  Jesus 
und  der  neschichtliche  biblische  Christus;  Fairbairn,  Christ  in 
Modern  Theology,  p.  186 ;  Loisy,  Autour  d'un  petit  livre,  pp. 
Ill,  90,  134  ;  Sabatier,  Outlines  qf  a  Philosophy  of  Beligion, 

&141  f.  (2)  Criticism  of  dogma :  Histories  of  Dogma,  by 
arnack  [Eng.  tr.],  Loofs,  and  A.  Dorner  ;  Kattenbusch,  Con- 
fessiom-Kunde  ;  Kaftan,  The  Truth  of  the  Christian  Religion, 
vol.  i.  ;  Fairbairn,  op.  cit.  (3)  Religion  and  history  :  Harnack, 
Pas  Christentitm  und  die  Geschichte  ;  O.  Kirn,  Glauhe  u^id 
Geschichte. 

II.  (1)  Christo-centric  theology  ;  Fairbairn,  Christ  in  Modem 
Theology,  and  The  Philosophy  of  the  Christian  Religion; 
Denney,  Studies  in  Theology ;  Forrest,  The  Christ  of  History 
and  of  Experience. — (2)  Religion  of  Jesus  theology:  Channing, 
Sermons  on  Loee  to  Christ  and  on  Pyeacliinq  Christ;  Seelev, 
Eece  Homo ;  A.  B.  Bruce,  With  Oijeii  Face  ;  The  Thinker,  1893, 
p.  38  ;  Hatch,  Uibbert  Lectures,  1888,  pp.  333,  349,  351 ;  Watson, 
The  Mind  of  the  Master  ;  Tolstoi,  My  Religion  ;  Harnack,  What 
is  Christianity !  ;  J.  Weiss,  Die  Naclifolge  Christi  und  die 
Predigt  der  Gegemvart ;  Bousset,  Wescnder  Religion,  p.  192  ff. 

III.  Ritschlianism  :  'R\^sc\\\,  Justification  and  Reconciliation; 
Garvie,  Ritschlian  Theology  ;  Swing,  The  Theology  of  Albrecht 
Ritschl ;  Herrmann,  The  Communion  of  the  Christian  with  God, 
also  Ethik,  and  der  Begriff  der  Offenbarung  ;  Kaftan,  Dogmatik. 

W.  Morgan. 
BAG  (Jn  12»  13=»  yXoiaabKonov  ;  in  Lk  12^2  /3aXdi/ria 
is  tr.  '  bags '  in  AV,  but  RV  '  purses ' ;  see  PuRSE). 

VXua-trexofjiav  (in  NT  peculiar  to  St.  John)  meant  originally  a 
case  for  keeping  the  mouth-pieces  of  wind  instruments  (j'/.i^ire-a, 
ao/i-a.) ;  so  Phrynicus,  who  gives  -/>.a»,ro;-.o,ni;o»  as  the  proper 
form,  rejecting  that  of  NT,  which,  however,  is  found  in  an  old 
Doric  inscription,  in  later  Comic  writers  and  in  LXX  (see  Liddell 
and  Scott).  The  RVm  'box'  seems  the  better  rendering. 
Field  (OA')  has  a  very  full  note,  in  which  he  concludes  that 
yX.,  both  in  its  general  and  in  its  special  sense,  means  not  a 
bag,  but  a  box  or  chest,  always  of  wood  or  other  hard  material. 
Thus  Hesychius  defines  it  as  a  wooden  receptacle  of  remnants 
{iropoc  ivXiv^  T^v  u,-^aia)v) ;  Arrian  mentions  yXuriroxo^ax  made  of 
tortoise-shell ;  in  the  Anthology  yk.  is  api'arently  a  coffin  ('  when 
I  look  at  Nicanor  the  coffin-maker  (o-ofo-rzjo.).  and  consider  for 
what  purpose  he  makes  these  \\n,nien  i)u\ts|-^/,wo-(rt^/ia] ') ;  and 
in  an  inscription  quoteii  Ii>  II  ii  li  i /.  '  in  Biblical  Grevk) 
j-A.  means  thestrong  bu\  11  !     ,     i       ,  :   .  I  an  association. 

The  LXX  translates  p^^:  ii,   ■  .    ,  i  (ihe  chest  for  the 

offerings,  but  ;i<^ioTo;  in  ■!  I\  l-'  i-  n  -ll^  i.  \\iiich  Cod.  A  also 
gives  in2  S  6"  (the  Ark).  A.|uihi  uses  -,/..  tor  |nN  in  all  its 
significations,  e.g.  coffin  (Gn  bu'^),  the  Ark  (Ex  37',  1  S  61,  2  S 
B").  Ancient  Versions  of  Jn.  agree  with  this  view  ;  Vulg.  gives 
loculos,  the  plural,  says  Field,  '  indicating  several  partitions,' 
a  small  portable  cush-box  ;  D  lat.  loculum ;  Nonnus  haupxTir,i> 
X.r.>^6v,  ligneam  arculam.  In  favour  of  EV  it  may  be  urged  that 
something  small  and  easily  carried  is  required  by  the  context, 
whereas  the  above  instances  are  chiefly  larger  boxes  (but  note 
use  of  y?..  by  Hesychius  and  Arrian  above).  Again,  in  1  S  6Sf- 
13"iN  (EV  'coffer')  is  tr.  y^.wtrtr'.xefMtf  by  Josephus,  and  is  from 
a  root  '  to  tremble,  wag,  move  to  and  fro,'  whence  in  Arabic 
there  is  a  similar  word  meaning  a  bag  filled  with  stones  hung 
at  the  sides  of  camels  to  preserve  equilibrium  (see  Gesenius, 
Lex.).     In  modern  Greek  also  yX.  means  purse  or  bag  (Hatch). 

The  y\.  Avas  the  receptacle  for  the  money  of  Jesus 
and  the  disciples ;  it  contained,  no  doubt,  the 
proceeds  of  the  sale  of  their  goods,  and  gave  the 
idea  later  of  the  common  fund  (Ac  4^"'-);  it  was 
replenished  by  the  gifts  of  friends  (Lk  8");  and 
from  it  the  poor  were  helped  (Jn  13=").  Judas 
may  have  been  entrusted  with  it  as  being  the  best 
fitted  for  such  work  ;  but  what  might  have  proved 
a  blessing,  as  giving  useful  employment  for  his 
talents,  became  the  means  of  his  ruin.  Other  sug- 
gested explanations  are :  that  Christ  thought  lit 
to  call  forth  a  manifestation  of  his  sin  as  the  only 
means  of  cure  (Hengstenberg) ;  or  that  it  was 
simply  a  private  arrangement  between  the  disciples 
(Godet).  The  'bag'  could  not  have  been  taken 
from  him,  as  Edersheim  {Life  and  Times,  ii.  472) 
remarks,  without  exposing  him  to  the  others,  and 
precipitating  his  moral  destruction.  See  JUDAS 
LSCARIOT.  W.  H.  DUNDAS. 

BAND.— A  Roman  legion,  the  full  strength  of 
which  was  about  6000  men,  was  divided  into  ten 
cohorts  (600),  and  each  cohort  into  three  maniples 
(200).  Greek  writers  use  the  word  aweipa,  rendered 
'  band'  in  our  versions,  sometimes  for  maniple  but 
usually  for  cohort ;  hence  HVni  has  regularly 
'cohort.'     The  troops  in  Judaa,  liowever,  as  jn 


168 


BANK 


BAPTISM 


otlier  provinces  governed  by  a  procurator,  con- 
sisted simply  of  auxiliaries,  not  Roman  citizens, 
but  provincials;  these  were  not  formed  into 
legions,  but  merely  into  cohorts,  of  strength  vary- 
ing from  500  to  1000,  sometimes  consisting  purely 
of  infantry,  sometimes  including  cavalry  also. 
The  farces  in  Palestine  seem  to  have  been 
originally  Herod's  troops,  taken  over  by  the 
Romans ;  they  were  recruited  in  the  Greek  cities 
in  or  around  the  country,  such  as  Cresarea, 
Ascalon,  Sebaste.  One  such  cohort  formed  the 
garrison  of  Jerusalem,  stationed  in  the  fortress  of 
Antonia,  adjoiiiin<j  the  Temple,  under  a  chiliarch 
or  tribune  ( '  the  chief  captain  of  the  band,'  Ac  2P'). 
From  the  account  of  the  force  at  the  disposal  of 
Lysias  (Ac  23^),  his  cohort  must  have  been  a 
cohors  miliarin  cquestris,  consisting  of  760  infantry 
and  240  cavalry  ;  but  this  may  not  have  been  the 
case  in  our  Lord's  time,  some  30  years  earlier.  This 
Roman  force  was  probably  granted  by  Pilate  to 
eftect  our  Lord's  arre.st  (Jn  18''-  '-,  where  '  the 
band '  under  its  '  chief  captain '  [RV]  seems  dis- 
tinguished from  '  the  officers  of  the  Jews,'  i.e.  the 
Temple  police  ;  see  Westcott,  ad  loc. ).  Of  course, 
only  a  portion  of  the  whole  coliort  would  be 
needed.  In  Mt  27^  11  Mk  15'«,  the  soldiers  gather 
together  '  the  whole  band '  to  mock  our  Lord  ; 
obviously  all  who  were  at  hand  and  not  on  duty. 

Literature.— Griitmi-Thayer,  s.v.  /rrupic;  Schiirer,  BJP  i. 
ii.  49-56:  Marqiiardt,  Jiomische  Staatsvei-waltung  (1SS4),  ii. 
46Sff.,  534ff.  HAEOLD  SMITH. 

BANK 1.  In  the  parable  of  the  Pounds,  Christ 

upbraids  the  slothful  servant  because  he  had  not 
given  Ilia  pound  to  the  bank  {iwi  Tpawe^av),  i.e. 
the  office  of  the  money-changers  (Lk  19-'^),  who 
would  have  kept  it  safe,  and  also  paid  interest  for 
it.  'Bankers'  (TpaTrefiToi)  is  used  in  RV  of  :Mt 
25^  for  '  money-changers '  of  the  AV.  In  Greek 
cities  the  bankers  .sat  at  their  tables  (rpaTrffa)  in 
the  market-place.  They  changed  coins,  but  also 
took  money  on  deiKisit,  giving  wliat  would  now 
seem  very  high  interest  (see  articles  '  Money- 
Changers'  and  'Usuiy'  in  vols.  iii.  and  iv.  of 
Hastings'  DB). 

In  this  parable  some  suppose  that  Christ  meant 
by  '  the  bank '  to  indicate  the  Synagogue,  or  the 
Christian  Church  as  an  organized  body,  which 
might  use  the  gifts  or  powers  of  a  disciple,  when 
he  could  not,  through  timidity  or  lack  of  energy, 
exercise  them  himself.  Othera  have  supposed  that 
He  pointed  to  prayer  as  a  substitute  for  good 
works,  when  the  disciple  was  unable  to  do  such. 
But  all  this  is  very  precarious.  (Cf.  Bruce,  Peine- 
boHc  TcnrJiinrj  rf  Christ,  p.  209  f.). 


to  be  a  Toae 

boldly  with  that  which  has  been  lui.  :    1  : 
him. 

2.  In  Lk  19«  'bank,'  AV  'trench'  (Gr.  x^^a^), 
l)robably  stands  for  a  i)alisa(le  (so  RVm)  of  stakes, 
strengthened  with  brandies  and  earth,  Avitli  a 
ditch  behind,  used  by  besiegers  as  a  protection 
against  arrows  or  attacking  uarties  (Lat.  vallum). 
Such  a  palisatle  was  actually  employed  by  the 
soldiers  of  Titus  in  the  siege  of  Jerusalem,  a.d.  70 
(Jos.  BJ  V.  vi.  2).  David  M.  W.  Laird. 

BANQUET.— The  people  of  Palestine  in  Christ's 
day— as,  indeed,  throughout  the  East  generally — 


were  fond  of  social  feasting.  The  word  5ox^,  ren- 
dered 'feast,'  from  S^xoM"",  'to  receive'  (cf.  Eng. 
reception'),   is  used  with  ttoi^w,   'to  make'   (cf. 


Heb.  njifi?  'i??  Job  l-").  This  is  the  social 
banquet,  as  distinguished  from  the  religious  feast 
(fopT7i).  Lrvi  made  a  great  feast  in  his  house  ( Lk 
~t  .iilvised  His  followers,  when  they 


invite  the  poor  and  afflicted 
rather  than  the  rich  and  influential  (W).  Such 
banquets  were  usually  given  in  the  house  of  the 
host  to  invited  guests  (Lk  14'^  Jn  22),  but  there 
was  more  freedom  accorded  the  uninvited  than  is 
common  in  Western  social  life  (Lk  73«-38).  Guests 
reclined  on  couches,  leaning  upon  the  left  arm,  and 
eating  with  the  aid  of  the  right  hand,  as  in  ordinary 
meals.  Eating,  and  especially  drinking  of  wine 
(cf.  Heb.  nriiyg  'drink,' and  ]-.:  'wine,'  used  for  'ban- 
quet,' and  Gr.  in>iiir6<riof,  '  drinking  together  '), 
nuisie,  dancing,  joyous  conversation,  merriment, 
usually  characterized  such  a  festivity.  Such  a 
banquet  was  a  part  of  wedding  occasions.  Jesus 
accepted  an  invitation  to  one  of  these  at  Cana  in 
Galilee  ( Jn  S^"- ).  Levi  gave  a  banquet  in  His  honour 
(Lk  S'^).  There  were  often  large  numbers  present 
(o-""),  and  gradations  in  the  places  (Mt  23"^,  Lk  14' 
20*,  Mk  1239).  One  of  the  guests  was  usually 
appointed  '  ruler  of  the  feast,'  or  apxi-Tpiii\ivos  (Jn 
2"- "),  who  superintended  the  drinking,  etc.  (cf. 
Lk  22=«).  E.  B.  Pollard. 

BAPTISM  (^aimaiM  =  '  the  rite  of  Bai)tism,' 
always  in  NT  distinguished  from  ^ajmafids,  'a 
washing,'  Mk  7^  He  6-  9'"  [but  see  Lightfoot,  Com. 
on  Colossians,  p.  184] ;  but  this  distinction  is  not 
maintained  in  Josephus  [cf.  Ant.  XVIII.  v.  2]; 
and  in  the  Latin  versions  and  Fathers  baptisma 
and  Impti^mus  and  even  baptismum  are  used  in- 
discriminately, see  Plummer's  art.  'Baptism'  in 
Hastiiij;s'  DB). — A  rite  wherein  by  immersion  in 
water  the  participant  symbolizes  and  signalizes 
his  transition  from  an  impure  to  a  pure  life,  his 
death  to  a  past  he  abandons,  and  his  new  birth  to 
a  future  he  desires. 

Tlie  i^)oints  for  consideration  are  (1)  the  Origin 
of  Baptism,  (2)  its  Mode,  (3)  John's  Baptism  of  tiie 
people,  (4)  John's  Baptism  of  Jesus,  (5)  Baptism  by 
the  disciples  of  Jesus. 

1,  The  Origin  of  Baptism.— Haxitism,  as  we  find  it 
in  the  Gospels,  may  be  traced  to  a  threefold  source, 
natural  symbolism,  the  lustrations  of  the  Mosaic 
Law,  and  the  baptism  of  proselytes.  In  many 
of  the  appointments  of  non- Christian  religions 
the  cleansing  of  the  .soul  from  sin  is  symbolized 
by  the  washing  of  the  bodv  (see  the  Vendidad, 
Fiirqard,  ix.  ;  Williams,  Religious  Tlwught  in 
I,ni;.,.  .■;i7;  Vei-il,  .i:„r;,l,  W.  72O;  OviA,  Fasti, 
V.  CnI;  mill  .-!..  Mart  ulloeh,  Compar.  Thcol.). 
X-.  Ill  oilur  ivliui'iii-,  Ml  ill  Israel  washings  were 
I  111'  ineaiis  aii|iuinted  lor  restoring  the  person 
\sh.i  liad  incurred  ceremonial  defilement  to  his 
I  hue  among  the  worshipping  congregation.  The 
Mn^aic  Law  prescribed  certain  regulations  for  the 
'  iiinval  of  uncleanness  by  washing  with  water; 
l.v  155. 8. 13. 16  (Xoyo-erat  iiSari  irdv  ri  cuiixa.  aiVoC) 
I  Ii-'-  ■-=*•  etc.  But  if  the  Jew  himself  needed  almost 
I  tily  washing  (' JudiEUS  quotidie  lavat,  quia  quo- 
tidic  inquinatur,'  Tertull.  de  Baptismo,  \v.),  much 
more  was  the  bath  of  i)urification  necessary  for  the 
Gentile  who  desired  to  pass  into  Judaism.  For  the 
proselyte  this  baptism  (nVnp)  seemed  the  appro- 
priate initiation.  '  Whensoever  any  heathen  will 
betake  himself  and  be  joined  to  the  covenant  of 
Israel,  and  place  himself  under  the  wings  of  the 
Divine  Majesty,  and  take  the  yoke  of  the  Law 
upon  him,  voluntary  circumcision,  baptism,  and 
oblation  are  required.'  (See  this  and  other  pas- 
sages in  Lightfoot,  IIoicb  Heb.  on  Mt  3"  ;  SchUrer, 
J{J1'  g  31 ;   and  Edersheim's  Life  and  Timfis  of 


BAPTISM 


BAPTISM 


Je-iKs,  Appendix  xii.  on  'Baptism  of  Proselytes.' 
The  question  whether  the  baptism  of  proselytes 
was  in  vogue  as  early  as  the  time  of  tlic  liaptist 
has  been  laid  to  rest  by  Edersheim  and  Schiirer). 
It  may  almost  be  said,  tlien,  that  when  John 
baptized  the  people,  he  meant  to  impress  them 
with  the  idea  tliat  they  must  be  re-born  before 
they  could  enter  the  kingdom.  He,  as  it  were, 
excommunicated  them,  and  by  requiring  them  to 
submit  to  Baptism,  declared  that  their  natural 
birth  as  Jews  was  insufficient  for  participation 
in  the  Messianic  blessings.  No  doubt  also  he 
believed  himself  to  be  fultilling  the  predictions  of 
Zee  13',  Ezk  36'-'*,  as  well  as  the  craving  expressed 
in  Ps  51'. 

2.  The  Mode,  nf  Baptism.—That  the  normal  mode 
was  by  immersion  of  the  whole  body  may  be  in- 
ferred' (a)  from  the  meaning  of  /SairT/fu,  which  is 
the  intensive  or  frequentative  form  of  /Sdirrw,  '  I 
dip,'  and  denotes  to  immerse  or  submerge.  In  Poly- 
bius,  iii.  72,  it  is  used  of  soldiers  wading  through  a 
flooded  river,  'immersed'  to  their  breast  (?us  twv 
imarCiv  oi  TTffol  §aivTi^6ixevoi.).  It  is  used  also  of 
sinking  ships  (in  i.  51,  the  Carthaginians  sank 
many  of  the  Koman  ships,  iroXXa  tuv  aKaipCiv  i^air- 
Tifoi').  [Many  examples  are  given  in  Stephanus, 
and  esp.  in  Classic  Baptism:  An  cnqnirij  into  the 
meaning  of  the  word  pairTiSa,  by  James  W.  Dale, 
4th  ed.  Philadelphia,  1872].  The  point  is  that 
'dip'  or  'immerse'  is  the  primary,  'wash'  the 
secondary  meaning  of  pd-KToi  and  ^airTli-oi.  (b)  The 
same  inference  may  be  drawn  from  the  law  laid 
down  regarding  the  baptism  of  proselytes :  '  As 
soon  as  he  grows  whole  of  the  wound  of  circum- 
cision, they  bring  him  to  Baptism,  and  being 
placed  in  the  water,  they  again  instruct  him  in 
some  weightier  and  in  some  lighter  commands  of 
the  Law.  'Which  being  heard,  he  plunges  himself 
and  comes  up,  and  behold,  he  is  an  Israelite  in 
all  things'  (See  Lightfoot,  ^.c).  To  use  Pauline 
language,  his  old  man  is  dead  and  buried  in  the 
water,  and  he  rises  from  this  cleansing  grave  a 
new  man.  The  full  significance  of  the  rite  would 
have  been  lost  had  innnersiun  not  been  practised. 
Again,  it  was  required  in  jiroselyte  baptism  that 
'eveiy  person  baptized  must  dip  his  whole  liody, 
now  stripped  and  made  naked,  at  one  dipping. 
And  wheresoever  in  the  Law  washing  of  the  body 
or  garments  i.s  mentioned,  it  means  nothing  else 
than  the  washing  of  the  whole  body.'  (c)  That 
immersion  was  the  mode  of  Baptism  adopted  by 
John  is  the  natural  conclusion  from  his  choosing 
the  neighbourhood  of  the  Jordan  as  the  scene  of 
his  labours  ;  and  from  the  statement  of  Jn  3'-^  that 
he  was  baptizing  in  /Enon  '  because  there  was  much 
water  there.'  (d)  That  this  form  was  continued 
into  the  Christian  Church  appears  from  the  e-\- 
Ijressiou  Xovrpof  TtaXivyivialas  (Tit  3^),  and  from  the 
use  made  by  St.  Paul  in  Ro  6  of  the  .symbolism. 
This  is  well  jjut  by  Bingham  (Antiq.  xi.  11)  : 
'  The  ancients  thought  that  immersion,  or  burying 
under  water,  did  more  likely  represent  the  death 
and  burial  and  resurrection  of  Christ  as  well  as 
our  own  death  unto  sin  and  rising  again  unto 
righteousness :  and  the  divesting  or  unclothing 
the  person  to  be  baptized  did  also  represent  the 
l)uttmg  off  the  body  of  .sin  in  order  to  put  on  the 
new  man,  which  is  created  in  righteousness  and 
true  holiness.  For  which  reason  they  observed  the 
way  of  baptizing  all  persons  naked  and  divested, 
by  a_  total  immersion  under  water,  excejit  in  some 
particular  cases  of  great  exigence,  wherein  they 
allow  of  sprinkling,  as  in  the  ca.se  of  clinic  Bap- 
tism, or  where  there  is  a  scarcity  of  water.'  This 
statement  exactly  reflects  the  ideas  of  the  Pauline 
Epistles  and  the  Didache.  This  early  document 
enjoins  that  Baptism  be  performed  in  running 
water ;  but  if  that  is  not  to  be  had,  then  in  other 


water :  '  And  if  thou  canst  not  in  cold,  then  in 
warm  ;  but  if  thou  hast  neither,  pour  water  thrice 
upon  the  head.'  Here  it  is  obvious  that  aflusion 
is  to  be  practised  only  where  immersion  is  incon- 
venient or  impossible.  The  Eastern  Church  has 
in  the  main  adhered  to  the  primitive  form.  But  in 
the  Western  Church  the  exigencies  of  climate  and 
the  alteration  of  manners  have  favoured  affusion 
and  sprinkling.  Judging  from  the  representations 
of  the  performance  of  the  rite  collected  by  Mr. 
C.  F.  Rogers  {Studia  Bibl.  et  Eccles.  vol.  v.  pt.  iv.), 
—whose  collection  is  more  valuable  than  his  in- 
ferences,— it  would  seem  that  at  an  early  period 
a  common  form  of  administration  required  that 
the  baptized  person  should  stand  in  some  kind 
of  bath  or  tul),  naked  or  nearly  so,  while  the 
liajitizer  poured  water  three  times  over  him. 
This  restricted  form  gradually  gave  place  to  the 
still  more  meagre  sprinkling  of  the  head.  But 
theoretically  the  form  of  Baptism  by  immersion 
was  retained  alike  in  the  Roman,  the  Anglican, 
and  the  Presbyterian  Churches.  Thus  Aquinas 
(Summa,  III.  Ixvi.  7)  determines  :  '  si  totum  corpus 
aqua  non  possit  perfundi  jiropter  aqua!  pauci- 
tatem,  vel  propter  aliquaui  aliuiii  causaiii,  opurtct 
caput  perfundere,  in  qim  iinniiffstatur  i>rincipiiim 
animalis  vitaj.'  The  ^\iiyliruii  ('lunch  in  iier 
rubric  for  Baptism  directs  the  niinistrant  to  dip 
the  child  discreetly  and  warily,  if  the  sponsors 
certify  him  that  the  child  may  well  endure  it ;  if 
not,  'it  shall  .suffice  to  pour  water  upon  it.'  And 
tlie  Westminster  Confession  ^VLax&eAXy  anya  :  'Dip- 
ping of  the  person  into  water  is  noi  ncres.innj ; 
but  Baptism  is  rightly  administered  by  pouring 
or  sprinkling  water  upon  the  person '  (cf.  Calvin, 
Inst.  iv.  15,  19).  This  form  of  Baptism  by  sprink- 
ling gives  prominence  to  the  '  pouring  out '  of  the 
Spirit  (cf.  Tit  3**),  but  fails  to  indicate  the  dying  to 
sin  and  rising  to  righteousness. 

3.  John's  Baptism  of  the  people.— 'V\ie  message 
of  the  Baptist  as  herald  of  the  Messiah  was,  '  Tlie 
kingdom  of  heaven  is  at  hand.'  The  imminence 
of  tlie  kingdom  produced  in  the  people  a  sense  of 
their  unpreparedne.ss  for  its  enjoyment.  A  new 
sense  of  sin  was  created  within  them,  answering 
to  the  forerunner's  cry,  '  Repent  ye  :  fur  the  king- 
dom of  heaven  is  at  hand'  (Mt  3^).  The  hunger 
for  cleanness  of  conscience  thus  awakened  within 
them  was  responded  to  by  John's  Baptism  ol 
repentance  'for  (eis)  remi-ssion  of  sins'  (Mk  V). 
True  repentance  cleanses  the  soul,  and  Baptism 
represented  and  sealed  this  inward  cleansing. 
The  reality  of  the  repentance,  as  John  insisted, 
would  be  determined  by  its  fruits.  Many  writers 
(cf.  Reynolds,  John  tlie-  Baptist,  pp.  288-289 ;  and 
Lambert,  The  Sacraments,  p.  6U)  hold  that  the 
preposition  ei'j  tienotes  that  the  remission  of  sins 
was  not  actually  bestowed,  but  only  guaranteed  in 
John's  Baptism.  '  John  proclaimed,  with  the  voice 
of  thunder,  the  need  of  repentance  as  a  condition 
of  the  remission  of  sins  ;  his  Baptism  was  the  ex- 
ternal symbol  of  the  frame  of  mind  with  which 
the  penitent  approached  the  great  forerunner.' 
This  seems,  both  exegetically  and  psychologically, 
untenable.  The  whole  expression,  '  Baptism  of 
repentance  for  forgiveness  of  sins,'  denotes  .-i  Bap- 
tism which  the  iienitent  submitted  U,  that  lie 
might  therein  receive  the  plcdui'  an. I  a>.-,maiicc 
that  he  was  forgiven.  The  Baiiti^ni  niiant  the 
cleansing  of  the  people  from  past  sin  that  they 
mi^ht  be  fitted  for  entrance  on  tlie  kingdom. 

But  John's  Baptism  had  a  forward  look  also. 
It  was  the  formal  incorporation  of  the  individual 
into   the  new  community,  his  initiation   into  the 

kinvil II   was  tlierefore  in  a  very  true  sense 

rill  1,1 1,111  l;,i|,nMii.  That  is,  it  pledged  the  re- 
iijiii  111  to  111.' acce|4anceof  Christ,— a  feature  of  it 
wliicli  pcihap.i  accounts  for  the  Bai)tist  continuing 


BAPTISM 


170 


BAPTISM 


that,   as  one  with  a^" . '\°<='   | ?  ;  „  idle  to  tell  the 
Baptism  to  be  appropnat^^  ^lUmed   though   her 
wife  that  she  need  not  be  -i^  i^^'"^"    >■'      s  , 
hLband  is  committed  for  fraud  ;aie  to  tel  Jesus 

that  He  need  not  be  bap -^^1-^^^^^^^^ 

mmmm 

lS^s^^,:|^of|eWineSgi.t^  ^^ 

The  account  tnven    }n    -^ae   ^L""'^  „nrpspnted 

tho\?s    means,  'I  did  not  know  that  he  was  the 
M::^in!^.ut_he^t.atsentmetoba^ue 


^W^^l?^'  ^  ,^XreTnone"  gol.d'b'S 

"al  ms"^     But  now,  having  reached  the  flowev^of 
most  strenuous  endeavour,  and  so  gives  suop 

iter'rCuncedte  position  as  forerunner 
'nor  Verged  himself    ["   the  kingdom.^     The  re^ 

question  whether    all  ^y^°T',;„   ..-ere  re-baptized 

in  certain  cu-cumsUnCerthft     "  ^ers^ns  snoken  of 
an  evasion.     He  He"ies  uuiu  i  ^^^  ^^^^ 

in  Ac  19  were  re-baptizecL      1 1  ey        y  ^^ 

the  Lord  Jesus    and  ^^  hen  ra  .^^j  locutione 

legitimacy  of  the  'ene^val  of  "^P^'r^  were 

«"^^??HSeS^Sno[ 
John^s  Baptrsm,  Its  relation  to  repe.^^.^^  , 

its  efficacy  as  the  o™„\"^"\gf    ,,  ,vas  now  supplied, 
kingdom  of  Jesus,  ^^'u^  \l«'^."  ^^^^^^  so  universal 


;:X:tli^  ;2;ie';^id  unto  me,  Upon  wliom  tljou 

'rhe^&i^m^UettthrbtameHisanointing 
Ihe  l^apti^m  o,  ue  j^i^g  Anointed 


S  StiSExr^'isars? 


Thus  Har- 
'9  note)  says:  '  It  cannot 
instituted  Baptism, 
of  the  Lord.  The 
i  1 )  It  is  only  a  later 
..,,v..s(.nts  the  risen 
command- 


can  uc  a^^^i'-^--   — 

u!>.c)i(Hist.ofDo!J>n 
be  directly  proved 
for  Mt  OS'*  is  u. 
reasons  for  this  a> 

stage  of  the  trad  .^^        _ 

Christ  as  delivering  ^l'^"^'r'^°;   ,  ^^     m  The  Trini 


m^^^i^^' 


Holtzmann's 
eared  to  His 
,vr_r««0f.  1.  o,.,.    Resurrection  and  said  nothing 
disciples  aftei  the  ^<;=''";.'=j         the  Resurrection 
is  inconceivable.    _  Bettei   uenv  j  yg  „  ,ost 

altogether  than  think  of  a  '^^^'J'Xs  But  the 
floating  before  the  eyes  of  t^«„^fjjesus  is  cer- 
Trinitarian  formula  "?  t;l»«  i^'^""^"  ^^  ^aid  in  its 
tainly  unexpected  J^  45^51)  may 

avour  Lanibert  (ifte  ^  essential  feature  of 

be  consulted  f  J^^^i^Tthe  union  of  the  sou  to 
Baptism  ^^/^,'*/,i?fl  t  |"ffi<^«l  to  call  it  '  Baptism 
Christ  and  therefore  jt  ^1^^^/  ,  y„rti,er  discus- 
into  the  name  of  the  Lora  je.u^^  ^ 

sion  of  the  genuineness  of  the  ascuption 


feAJlABlBAS 


BARACHIAH 


171 


words  to  our  Lord  belongs  rather  to  the  Trinitarian 
than  to  the  Baptismal  problems. 

LiTEEiTCRE.— MacCulloch,  Comparative  Theology,  235 ;  An- 
rich,  Das  antike  Mysterienwesm  ;  Lightfoot,  Horae  Hebraicm  ; 
Schiirer,  BJP  §  31 ;  Suicer,  Lexicon,  s.v. ;  Calvin,  Institutw, 
iv.  15,  '  de  Baptismo ' ;  Reynolds,  John  the  Baptist ;  Teathcr, 
John  the  Baptist ;  Lambert,  The  Sacraments  in  the  New  Testa- 
■mmt ;  Holtzmann's  NT  Theol.  and  the  literature  mentioned 
there,  as  above ;  Edersheim's  ii/e  and  Ti^ncs  of  Jestis  the 
Messiah ;  C.  F.  Rogers,  Studia  Bill,  et  Eeeles.  vol.  v.  pt.  iv. 
'  Baptism  and  Christian  Archffiology ' ;  Didaskaliw  fraymenta 

'  ■     '    --^  ---  •    "  McGiffert,  The  Apastt-' 

;  Early  Hist.  ofChr 

Marcus  Dods. 

BARABBAS  (Aramaic  Bar-Abba,  'son  of  Abba' 
or  'son  of  father.'  There  is  very  slight  documen- 
tary authority  for  tlie  reading  Bar-Rabban,  '  son 
of  a  Rabbi,'  which  is  adopted  by  Ewald  and 
Renan.  On  the  other  hand,  if  Bar-Abba='  son  of 
father,'  it  would  hardly  differ  in  meaning  from 
Bar-Rabban  ;  for  in  the  time  of  Jesus  '  Abba '  wa,s 
a  common  appellation  of  honour  given  to  a  Rabbi. 
But  after  all  'Abba'  may  have  been  a  proper 
name  ;  for  though  it  is  sometimes  affirmed  [e.g.  by 
Schmiedel  in  his  article  '  Barabbas '  in  Encyc.  Bibl.] 
that  it  was  not  till  after  the  time  of  our  Lord  that 
the  word  began  to  be  used  in  this  way,  the  authors 
of  the  corresponding  article  in  the  Jewish  Encyclo- 
pedia assure  us  that  '  Abba  is  found  as  a  prce- 
nomen  as  early  as  Tannaitic  times '). 

Only  one  Barabbas  meets  us  in  the  Gospels,  the 
criminal  whom  Pilate  released  instead  of  Jesus  at 
the  demand  of  the  people.  All  the  four  Evan- 
gelists relate  the  incident  (Mt  2V^-'^,  Mk  15«-i^  Lk 
23"-^,  Jn  IS'"-*),  which  is  again  referred  to  in 
Acts  in  the  account  of  St.  Peter's  sermon  in  the 
Temple  portico  (Ac  3").  From  these  narratives 
we  gather  that  Barabbas  was  '  a  notable  prisoner,' 
'  a  robber,'  one  who  had  taken  part  in  '  a  certain 
insurrection  made  in  the  city,'  and  who  in  this 
disturbance  had  'committed  murder.'  It  had 
probably  been  an  old  Jewish  custom  to  release  a 
prisoner  at  the  Passover  feast  (Jn  18'^).  Accord- 
ing to  the  Roman  habit  in  such  matters,  the  pro- 
curators of  Judiea  had  accommodated  themselves 
to  the  Jewish  practice.  In  his  desire  tp  saveJesu.s, 
Pilate  bethought  himself  of  this  custom  as  otter- 
ing a  loophole  of  escape  from  the  dilemma  in 
which  he  found  himself  between  his  own  sense  of 
justice  and  his  unwillingness  to  give  oHence  to 
"the  multitude.  So  he  offered  them  the  choice  be- 
tween the  life  of  Jesus  and  the  life  of  Barabbas, 
probably  never  doubting  that  to  Jesus  the  prefer- 
ence would  be  given.  The  fact  that  he  seems  to 
have  expected  this  precludes  the  view  which  some 
have  held  that  Barabbas  was  a  pseudo-Messiah, 
and  even  the  notion  that  he  was  no  vulgar  bandit, 
but  the  leader  of  a  party  of  Zealots,  since  popular 
sympathy  might  have  been  anticipated  on  behalf 
of  a  bold  Zealot  or  insun-ectionary  Messiah.  The 
probability  accordingly  is  that  Barabbas  was 
simply  a  criminal  of  tlie  lowest  type,  a  hater  of 
the  Romans  it  may  be,  but  at  the  same  time  a 
pest  to  society  at  large.  And  unless  we  are  to 
suppose,  on  the  ground  of  the  possible  etymolo<;y, 
'son  of  father '  =  ' son  of  teacher,'  and  the  'flius 
magistri  eorum'  which  Jerome  quotes  from  the 
account  of  the  incident  in  the  Gospel  of  the 
Hebrews,  that  he  was  popular  among  the  peopL 
because  lie  was  the  son  of  a  Rabbi,  we  have  no 
reason  to  think  that  either  the  Jewish  leaders  or 
the  multitude  had  any  ground  for  preferring  him  to 
Jesus  except  their  passionate  hatred  of  the  latter. 
According  to  an  old  reading  of  Mt  27'^- ",  th( 
name  '  Jesus '  in  both  verses  is  prefixed  to  Barabbas, 
so  that  Pilate's  question  runs,  '  Whom  will  ye 
that  I  release  unto  you?  Jesus  Barabbas,  or  Jesus 
which  is  called  Christ?'  If  this  reading  were 
accepted,  Barabbas  would  not  have  the  force  of 


Bnrtimcvus),  but  would  be  only 
I'l  for  tlie  sake  of  distinction 
/("').  In  his  exposition  of  the 
■lers  to  this  reading,  which  is 
MSS  and  by  the  Armenian 


proper  iinii 
a  patniiiM 

(Cf.    'Silllul 

passa;.:!',   1 1 
favoured  li; 

and  Jerusalem  Syriac  Versions,  antl  has  been  de- 
fended by  Ewald,  Lange,  Meyer,  and  others,  who 
have  supposed  that  the  accidental  similarity  of 
the  name  may  have  helped  to  suggest  to  Pilate 
the  alternative  which  he  presented  to  the  Jews. 
Olshausen  not  only  adopts  this  view,  but  finds  a 
mournful  significance  in  both  of  the  (supposed) 
names  of  the  condemned  criminal— '  Jesus '  and 
'  son  of  the  father,'  and  in  the  fact  that  the  nation 
preferred  this  caricature  of  Jesus  to  the  heavenly 
reality.  Both  dramatically  and  homiletically,  no 
doubt,  these  ideas  are  tempting— the  meeting  of 
the  two  Jesuses,  the  irony  of  the  popular  choice, 
the  sense  of  a  Divine  'lu.sus'  in  human  affairs. 
But  the  truth  remains  that  the  grounds  on  which 
this  construction  rests  are  very  inadequate.  There 
is  ingenuity  certainly  in  the  suggestion,  first  made 
by  Origen  (who,  however,  prefers  the  ordinary 
reading),  that  '  Jesus '  may  have  been  dropped  out 
of  the  early  MSS  of  Matthew  after  the  name  had 
become  a  sacred  one,  because  it  appeared  unseemly 
that  it  should  be  borne  by  a  murderer  ;  but  it  is  of 
too  hypothetical  a  kind  to  counterbalance  the  im- 
mense weight  of  the  documentary  evidence  against 
the  presence  of  the  name  'Jesus'  at  all.  The  fact 
that,  even  in  the  scanty  MSS  and  VSS  in  which 
'Jesus  Barabbas'  is  found  in  vv.'"  and  ",  'Bar- 
abbas '  and  '  Jesus '  are  set  in  direct  antithesis  in 
v.-"  tells  strongly  against  the  reading,  as  well  as 
the  circumstance  that  no  trace  of  it  is  found  in 
any  MS  of  the  other  three  Gospels.  There  is  much 
to  be  said  for  the  suggestion  of  Tiegelles,  byway 
of  explaining  the  appearance  of  the  '  Jesus '  in 
some  copies  of  Matthew,  that  at  a  very  early  date 
a  careless  transcriber  repeated  the  last  two  letters 
of  iiiuv  (v."),  and  that  the  IX  was  afterwards  taken 
to  be  the  familiar  abbreviation  of  'Irjaovv. 

Literature.— The  Commentaries  of  Meyer,  Alford,  and  Ols- 
hausen ;  Ewald,  History  of  Israel,  vol.  vi. ;  Lange's  and  Renan'8 
Z/(/e  of  Christ;  art.  'Barabbas'  in  Hastings'  DB,  Encyc.  Bill., 
and  Jewvih  Encyct.  ;  Merkel,  '  Die  Begnadigung  am  Passah- 
feste'  in  ZHTW,  1905,  p.  293(1.  J.  C.  LAMBERT. 

BARACHIAH.-Mt '233Mom.  N*  and] 4  cursives), 
Lk  11"  (ins.  DS'  and  2  cursives).  The  name 
occurs  in  Mt.  in  a  passage,  recorded  in  substantial 
agreement  by  Mt.  and  Lk.,  in  which  the  Lord 
declares  that  the  blood  of  all  the  prophets  (Lk.) 
or  all  the  righteous  blood  (Mt.)  will  be  sought 
from  or  come  upon  that  generation,  from  the  blood 
of  Abel  to  the  blood  of  Zachariah.  In  2  Ch  24-''»'- 
is  an  account  of  the  stoning  of  Zechariah  the  son 
of  Jehoiada  (LXX  B  has  '  Azariah  '  for  '  Zechar- 
iah,' but  Lagarde  prints  '  Zechariah ')  in  the  court 
of  the  house  of  the  Lord.  This  incident  is  re- 
peatedly referred  to  in  the  later  Jewish  litera- 
ture. In  the  Babylonian  Talmud  (Sanh.  964 ; 
Gittin,  576),  in  the  Jerusalem  Talmud  (Tannith, 
69«),  and  in  the  Midrashim  (cq.  Erhti  Uahbati, 
Introd.  IB  ii.  2 ;  Kohelcth  iii.  16  ;  Pesilda  Bab. 
Kahuna  xv.)  it  is  recorded  that  Nebu/aradan 
slew  many  Jews  in  order  to  quiet  '  the  blood  of 
Zechariah,  who  is  called  a  prophet '  (Hanh.  966  ; 
Midr.  Echo,  R.,  Koheleth)  with  reference  to  2  Ch 
24'".  It  seems  natural,,  therefore,  to  suppose  that 
the  Zachariah  of  the  Gospels  is  the  Zechariah  of 
2  Chronicles.  Abel's  was  the  first  murder  of  a 
righteous  man  recorded  in  the  OT,  Zechariah's  the 
last  (2  Chron.  is  the  last  book  of  the  Hebrew 
Canon).  Abel's  blood  cried  from  the  ground  (Gn 
i^").  Zechariah  when  dying  said,  '  The  Lord  look 
upon  it  and  require  it '  (2  Ch  24"). 

But  how  are  we  to   account  for  Mt.'s  'son  of 


172 


BAR-JOXA(H) 


BAETHOLOMEW 


liaracliiah,'  when  we  should  expect  'son  of  Je- 
hoiada'?  In  Is  8-  we  read  of  Zechariah  'son  of 
Jeberechiah'  (the  LXX  has  vwv  Bapaxi-ov),  in  Zee  1' 
of  Zechariah  the  son  of  Berechiah  the  son  of  Iddo 
(LXX,  Thv  ToO  Bapoxioi.  iiov  'A55ci).  The  later 
Jewisli  tradition  identified  the  two.  So  the  Baby- 
lonian Talmud  {Ma/ckoth,  246  ;  cf.  Pesikta  Rab. 
Kahrtna  xv.,  Targuin  of  Is  8=,  Raslii  on  Is  8=). 
Further,  there  seems  to  have  been  a  tendency  to 
identify  Zechariah  son  of  Berechiah  son  of  Iddo 
mth  Zechariah  son  of  Jehoiada,  for  the  Targum 
of  La  3'*'  calls  the  Zechariah  of  Chronicles  '  son 
of  Iddo.'  We  might  therefore  suppose  that  Christ 
spoke  of  Zachariah,  who  was  really  son  of  Jehoiada, 
a.s  son  of  Barachiah,  because  the  Jewish  tradition 
of  His  age  identified  or  confused  the  priest  and  the 
prophet ;  cf .  the  '  priest  and  prophet '  applied  to 
Zechariah  son  of  Jehoiada  in  Sank.  976.  In  this 
case  the  omission  of  woi)  'Rapaxlov  from  Mt  23^^  in 
N*  would  be  due  to  someone  who  wondered  at  the 
'Barachiah'  instead  of  'Jehoiada.'  Or  the  'son 
of  Barachiah '  might  be  an  insertion  on  the  part  of 
the  editor  of  the  Gospel,  either  on  the  "round  of 
Jewish  tradition,  or  in  remembrance  of  the  two 
LXX  passages.  Is  8=,  Zee  1'.  The  fact  that  this 
editor  elsewhere  employs  LXX  forms  of  proper 
names,  as  in  'Aa6.<j>,  'A/xiis  (!'■  "),  is  in  favour  of  the 
latter.  Or  '  son  of  Barachiah '  m^  be  a  later  in- 
sertion in  the  Gospel  (so  Merx).  The  insertion  of 
the  clause  in  AVestern  texts  in  Lk.  is  due  to  as- 
similation to  tlie  text  of  Matthew. 

The  difficulty  of  the  appearance  of  '  Barachiah  ' 
in  Mt.  has  led  to  other  and  less  proljable  identili- 
cations.  Origen  (de  la  Rue,  iv.  845)  supposed  that 
Zacharias  the  father  of  John  the  Baptist  was 
referred  to,  and  quotes  a  tradition  that  this 
Zacharias  was  murdered  in  the  temple.  Cf.  the 
Protev.  Jacobi,  23,  24,  which  has  a  different  account 
of  the  cause  of  the  murder.  Others  refer  to 
Jos.  BJ  IV.  V.  4,  where  it  is  recorded  that  shortly 
before  the  last  siege  of  Jerusalem  one  Zacliarias 
the  son  of  Baruch  or  Bariscaeus  was  murdered  in 
the  t«mple  by  the  Zealots.  It  is  therefore  argued 
that  the  Evangelist  has  either  blundered  by  writ- 
ing '  of  Barachiah '  in  reminiscence  of  this  event, 
when  he  should  have  wTitten  '  of  Jehoiada,'  or 
that  he  is  responsible  for  the  whole  of  the  clause 
in  which  this  phrase  occurs,  and  has  put  into 
Christ's  mouth  an  anachronistic  statement.  But, 
apart  from  the  difference  between  the  Bapaxlov  of 
the  Gospels  and  the  Bapouxov  or  Bdpeu-  or  Bapurxaiov 
of  Josephus,  the  reference  to  2  Chron.  seems  to 
satisfy  the  data  better.  The  reckoning  from  Abel 
to  Zechariah  is  Jewish  in  character,  the  '  of  Bara- 
chiah '  may  be  due  to  Jewish  tradition,  and  the 
'  between  the  temple  and  the  altar '  is  perhaps  also 
due  to  current  Jewish  speculation  or  tradition.  In 
the  Jerusalem  Talmud  (Taanith  69«)  the  question 
is  raised  where  Zechariah  was  killed,  with  the 
answer  that  it  was  in  the  court  of  the  priests  (cf. 
also  the  same  tradition  in  Midr.  Kolwhth  iii.  16, 
Pesikta  R.  Kahana  xv.,  Eclia  Babbati,  Introd.  is). 
LiTKRATVRE.— Lightfoot,  HoTceHebraiue;  ilerx. Die  wr Bean- 
gelien ;  Wellliauseu  and  Zaiin  in  their  corauientaries  on  Matthew. 

W.  C.  Allex. 
BAR-JONA(H).-See  Peter. 

BARLEY. — In  the  Gospels,  barley  is  mentioned 
only  in  the  account  given  by  St.  Jolin  (6'"''')  of  the 
miraculous  feeding  of  the  five  thousand  witli  live 
barley  loaves  and  two  fishes.  The  word  occurs 
twice  (vv.'-  '•'),  and  in  both  cases  rei)resents  tlie 
adjectival  form  Kpldifos  in  the  original.  The  noun 
Koiffri  (in  ordinai-y  Gr.  usage  almost  invarialilv  in 
theplur.  Kptffal),  which  is  employed  in  the  LX^^  tu 
rencfer  the  Heb.  n-jiv,  occurs  only  once  in  NT  illw 
0").  Barley  was  one  of  the  niost  important  uf 
Biblical  food  •  products.      According  to  the  elder 


Pliny  (i/iVxviii.  72),  it  was  the  most  ancient  nutri- 
I  nient  of  mankind.  It  certainly  dates  back  to  a 
very  remote  antiquity.  It  was  cultivated  by  the 
Canaanites  prior  to  the  time  of  the  Hebrew  con- 
quest (Dt  8*),  and  by  the  ancient  Egyptians,  as 
appears  from  Ex  9^'  and  from  the  representations 
on  the  oldest  Egyptian  monuments.  Among  the 
Jews  it  was  used  for  making  bread  (Ezk  4"),  and 
it  seems  to  have  been  the  principal  food  of  the 
poorer  classes  (Ru  2"  3'=,  1  K  4=^,  Jn  6').  This  is 
confirmed  by  Jg  7",  where  a  cake  of  barley -bread 
is  the  symlx)l  of  an  army  of  peasants,  and  is 
also  in  accordance  with  modern  \isage.  Thus  Dr. 
Thomson  says :  '  Barley  bread  is  only  eaten  by 
the  poor  and  the  unfortuncitc.  Nothing  is  more 
common  than  for  these  people,  at  this  day,  to  com- 
plain that  their  oppressors  liave  left  them  nothing 
but  barley  bread  to  eat'(Z,an(/  and  Book  [1878ed.], 
p.  449).  He  also  mentions  that  the  Bedawin  often 
ridicule  their  enemies  by  calling  them  '  eaters  of 
barley  bread'  (I.e.).  Barley  was  also  grown  as  a 
forage  crop.  Its  employment  as  provender  for 
horses  is  mentioned  in  1  K  4^,  antl  the  chopped 
straw  from  the  threshing-floor  was  likewise  used 
as  fodder.  This  practice  continues  to  the  present 
day,  oats  and  hay  being  unknown. 

In  Palestine  the  normal  time  for  sowing  barley 
is  about  the  beginning  of  October  :  Avhen  the  winter 
is  exceptionally  cold  and  wet,  sowing  takes  place 
early  in  February.  In  the  Jordan  Valley,  the 
harvest  begins  in  April,  but  it  varies  according 
to  the  elevation  of  the  diflerent  re^'ions.  At  the 
highest  altitudes  the  crop  is  not  ripe  tiU  July  or 
even  August.  Hugh  Duncan. 

BARN.— The  same  word  (dTroSiiic)))  is  rendered 
'  barn  '  in  Mt  6-«  13'»,  Lk  12i8-  ^,  and  'garner'  in 
Mt  3'-,  Lk  3".  In  Grjeco-Roman  times,  buildings 
above  giound  were  probably  in  use.  Kadaipia,  '  to 
pull  down  '  (Lk  12'*)  could  apply  only  to  such.  But 
from  ancient  times  until  now  Palestinian  farmers 
have  stored  their  grain  in  cistern-like  pits.  These 
are  dug  in  dry  places,  often  out  of  the  solid  rock, 
carefully  ceiiiented  to  keep  out  damp,  with  a 
circular  opening  at  the  top,  through  which  a  man 
may  pass.  When  the  mouth  is  plastered  over  and 
made  air-tight,  the  corn  will  keep  sound  for  several 
years.  For  securitj'  in  a  lawless  country,  the 
'  barn  '  is  sometimes  under  the  floor  of  the  inmost 
part  of  the  house,  that  of  the  women  (cf.  2  S  4"). 
To  escape  the  tax-gatherer,  again,  it  is  frequently 
made  in  a  secluded  spot,  and  so  skilfully  turfed 
over  that  discovery  is  almost  impossible  (cf.  Jer 
41').  Pits  found  near  ruined  sites,  in  districts  that 
have  lain  desolate  for  ages,  prove  the  antiquity  of 
this  method.  Natural  caves  in  the  limestone  rock, 
improved  by  art,  with  heavy  stone  doors  blocking 
the  entrance,  have  also  served  as '  barns,'  and  may 
be  seen  in  use  at  Gadara  to-day.        AV.  Ewing. 

BARTHOLOMEW  (BapSoXoAioiot)  appears  as  an 
apostle  in  all  four  lists  of  the  Twelve  (Mt  W, 
Mk  3'*,  Lk  6'^,  Ac  1"),  always  in  the  second  of  the 
three  groups  of  four.  In  the  Gospels  he  comes 
next  after  Philip  (who  in  all  four  lists  heads  the 
second  quaternion),  and  is  followed  by  Matthew 
and  Thomas :  in  Acts  the  order  is  '  Philip  and 
Thomas,  Bartholomew  and  Matthew.'  The  name, 
as  the  first  syllable  indicates,  is  a  patronymic,  and 
it  is  commonly  interpreted  'son  of  Tafmai.'  In 
the  LXX  Talniiii  has  many  variants  (OoV,  QoXnei, 
QaKafjtei,  6o\o,u(i,  tioXuaiX-q/j.) :  and  in  Josephus 
{Atit.  XX.  i.  1)  wf  have  a  bandit  chief  named 
eoXo/xaios.  It  is  often  assumed  that  '  Talmai '  re- 
presents '  Ptolemy,'  and  that  Bartholomew  means 
■  sun  of  Ptolemy ' ;  but  the  O  is  against  this. 
Edersheim  {Messiah,  i.  p.  .521)  makes  it  mean 
'  son  of  Telamyon.'     Bartholomew  may  be  either 


BARTIMiEUS 


BASKET 


173 


a  genuine  patronymic  used  in  addition  to  a  proper 
name,  like  Simon  Bar-jona  ;  or  it  may  have  be- 
come an  independent  proper  name,  like  Barnabas. 
If  the  apostle  Bartholomew  had  no  other  name,  we 
know  nothing  about  him  from  Scripture,  and  the 
later  traditions  about  him  are  very  untrustworthy 
(Lipsius,  Apokryphcn  ApostelgeschichUn  undApos- 
tellegenden,  iii.  pp.  54-108).  These  traditions  begin 
with  Eusebius  (HE  v.  x.  3),  and  ascribe  to  him 
widely  different  fields  of  missionary  labour,  with 
different  apostles  as  his  companions,  and  different 
forms  of  martyrdom.  He  is  often  made  to  be  one 
of  the  Seventy.* 

But  both  by  the  early  Church  and  by  most 
modern  writers  Bartholomew  is  commonly  identi- 
fied with  Nathanael.  To  treat  this  as  almost  cer- 
tain (Schaff-Herzog)  is  to  go  beyond  the  evidence  ; 
to  call  it  'the  merest  conjecture'  {Enci/c.  Bibl.)  is 
to  err  in  the  opposite  direction. 

In  favour  of  the  identification  are  the  following 
points.  (1)  Bartholomew  being  a  patronymic,  the 
Dearer  may  easily  have  had  another  name  ;  (2) 
the  Sjmoptists  never  mention  Nathanael,  St.  John 
never  mentions  Bartholomew  ;  (3)  the  Synoptists 
in  their  lists  place  Bartholomew  next  to  Philip,  as 
James  next  to  his  probable  caller  John,  and  Peter 
(in  Mt.  and  Lk.)  next  to  his  caller  Andrew  ;  (4)  all 
the  other  disciples  mentioned  in  Jn  l^'*-^'-'  became 
apostles,  and  none  of  them  is  so  commended  as 
Nathanael  ;  (5)  all  the  companions  of  Nathanael 
who  are  named  in  Jn  21"  are  apostles.  But  all 
these  reasons  do  not  make  the  identification  more 
than  probable.  St.  John  nowhere  calls  Nathanael 
an  apostle,  and  we  are  not  obliged  to  find  room  for 
liim  among  the  Twelve.  The  conjecture  that  lie 
is  Matthew  or  Matthias  (Hilgenfeld)  is  supported 
by  no  reasonable  evidence ;  and  that  he  is  John 
himself  under  a  symbolical  name  (Spiith)  is  con- 
tradicted by  Jn  2P,  where  the  sons  of  Zebedee 
are  mentioned  in  addition  to  Nathanael. 

On  the  other  hand,  there  is  nothing  against  the 
identification :  it  creates  no  difficulty.  To  say 
that  a  Galiliean  would  have  remembered  Is  9',  and 
therefore  would  not  have  asked  whether  any  good 
could  come  out  of  Nazareth,  is  unsound  criticism. 
A  person  with  Is  9'  in  his  mind,  and  convinced 
that  rich  blessings  would  come  from  Galilee,  might 
nevertheless  think  that  Nazareth  was  not  a  likely 
place  to  be  the  dwelling-place  of  the  Messiali. 
And  who  can  tell  whether  a  particular  Galila'an 
would  or  would  not  remember  a  particular  text? 


A.  Plummer. 

BARTIM^US  (BapW^a.os).— Named  only  in  Mk 
lQi6-02^  where  he  is  described  as  a  blind  beggar  who 
was  cured  by  Jesus  as  He  left  Jericho  on  His  last 
journey  to  Jerusalem.  But  there  can  be  little 
doubt  that  we  have  also  accounts  of  the  same 
miracle  in  the  closely  parallel  narratives  Mt  20-'-*', 
Lk  IS'^"'^.  There  are,  however,  various  diver- 
gences between  the  three  narratives  which  have 
caused  difticulty.  Thus  St.  Matthew,  while  agree- 
ing with  St.  Mark  that  the  miracle  took  place  on 
the  Lord's  departure  from  Jericho,  speaks  of  Uvo 
blind  men  as  having  been  healed  ;  but  St.  Luke,  re- 
verting to  the  mention  of  a  single  sufferer,  says  his 
cure  took  place  as  the  Lord  dreiv  nigh  to  the  city. 
And  again,  while  St.  Mark  is  content  to  describe 
the  healing  as  the  result  of  a  word  of  comfort,  '  Go 
thy  way,  thy  faith  hath  marie  thee  whole,'  St. 
-Matthew  tells  us  that  it  was  ettected  by  a  touch, 
■  Jesus  .  .  .  touched  their  eyes ' ;   and   St.    Luke 

"  On  the  possibility  that  there  was  another  Bartholomew 
identical  with  the  apostle  Matthias,  among  tlie  Seventy,  see 
note  by  Dr.  Nestle  in  Expos.  Times,  ix.  [1898]  p.  500  f. 


assigns  it  to  a  direct  command,  'Receive  thy 
sight.'  The  divergences,  no  doubt,  are  very  con- 
siderable, and  have  taxed  the  ingenuity  of  the 
harmonists  both  in  ancient  and  modern  times. 
Thus  it  has  been  supposed  that  St.  Matthew  com- 
bines the  cure  of  one  blind  man  at  the  entrance 
into  Jericho  (so  St.  Luke)  with  the  cure  of  another 
at  the  departure  from  Jericho  (so  St.  Mark),  or 
that  Bartimasus,  begging  at  the  gate,  became 
aware  of  Jesus'  entrance  into  the  city,  and,  seeking 
out  a  blind  companion,  along  with  him  intercepted 
the  Saviour  the  next  day  as  He  was  leaving 
Jericho,  and  was  then  healed.  But  it  cannot  be 
said  that  any  such  explanations  are  very  satis- 
factory. And  it  is  better  simply  to  content  our- 
selves with  noting  the  divergences  between  the 
three  accounts  as  an  additional  proof  of  the  inde- 
pendence of  the  Evangelists  in  matters  of  detail, 
without,  however,  abandoning  our  belief  in  the 
general  trustworthiness  of  their  narratives.  There 
are  few  miracles,  indeed,  in  the  Gospel  story  better 
vouched  for  than  the  one  before  us,  authenticated 
as  it  is  by  the  triple  Synoptic  tradition  and  by  the 
preciseness  of  the  details,  while  the  very  mention 
of  the  name  of  the  healed  man  has  been  regarded 
as  a  proof  that  he  nmst  still  have  been  known  in 
the  tmie  of  the  Apostles  ('valde  notus  Aposto- 
loruni  tempore  Bartimasus,'  Bengel). 

It  has  been  conjectured,  indeed,  that  Barlimmus  is  not  really 
a  proper  name,  but  a  designation  derived  from  an  Aramaic 
root  samj/a,  '  blind,'  so  that  '  Bartimaius  the  son  of  Timseua ' 
might  mean  no  more  than  'the  blind  son  of  a  blind  father' 
(see  Lightfoot,  Hoi:  Heb.  on  Mk  10«  ;  and  for  the  various  deriva- 
tions that  have  been  proposed,  Keim,  Jesus  of  Nazara,  Eng.  tr. 
V.  p.  61  f.).  But  the  word,  as  St.  Maris  interprets  it  for  us,  ia 
clearly  a  patronymic  (cf.  BnpeaXc^uccTin),  and  the  defining  clause 
0  w'«  T./*«i'ei;  is  quite  in  the  style  of  the  Second  Evangelist, 
though  it  is  placed  before  the  patronymic  and  not  after  it  as 
usually  (cf.,  however,  v.-ia  ;  and  see  Swete,  St.  Math,  p.  228). 

It  is  unnecessary  to  recall  further  the  details  of 
the  Gospel  narrative  ;  but,  from  whatever  point  of 
view  we  regard  it,  it  is  full  of  instruction.  Thus, 
in  the  case  of  Bartimseus  himself,  we  have  a  notable 
instance  of  a  determination  that  resolved  to  let  no 
opportunity  of  being  healed  escape  it ;  of  a  perse- 
verance^ that  continued  its  efforts  notwithstanding 
the  difficulties  jjlaced  in  its  path  ;  of  an  eagernes.i 
that  cast  ofl'  all  that  hindered  its  free  approaoli ; 
of  a,  faith  that  recognized  in  Jesus  the  Divinely- 
appointed  Messiah  ('Thou  Son  of  David')  before 
and  not  after  the  cure  ;  and  of  a  thankfulness  that 
showed  itself  in  ready  obedience  and  triumphant 
prai.se  when  the  cure  was  complete  ('followed 
him,  glorifying  God ').  And  if  thus  the  narrative 
has  much  to  tell  us  regarding  Bartimseus,  no  less 
does  it  throw  a  vivid  light  on  the  character  of  our 
Lord  Himself,  when  we  remember  the  sympathy 
with  which,  notwithstanding  His  own  approaching 
sufferings,  He  regarded  the  beggar's  cry  ;  the 
readiness  with  which  He  placed  Himself  at  his 
disposal  (' What  wilt  thou  .  .  .?');  and  the  saving 
power  with  which  He  bestowed  on  the  sufl'erer  even 
more  than  he  asked. 


W.  M.  Taylor,  see,  for  the  above  and  other  homiletic  details, 

Cox,  Biblical  Expositions,  pp. 

Jesm  by  Various  Authors  (J.  Robinson,  Manchester).    We  may 


155-107,  and  The  Miracles 


refer  also  to  Longfellow's  poem  '  Blind  Bartimse 

George  Milligan. 
BASKET.  — All  four  Evangelists,  in  narrating 
the  miracle  of  the  feeding  of  the  five  thousand, 
describe  the  baskets  in  which  the  fragments  were 
placed  as  K6<t>tvot  (Mt  14="=Mk6"=Lk  9"  =  Jn  0'^) ; 
while  the  two  who  report  the  other  miracle  of  feed- 
ing the  fotir  thousand,  state  that  the  fragments 
were  placed  in  a-n-vploa  (Mt  15^'  =  Mk  8'*).  It  is  clear 
from  Mt  le"'-  (  =  Mk  8'i"-)  that  the  variation  is  in- 
tentional. The  baskets  used  on  the  one  occasion 
differed  either  in  size,  sliape,  or  material  from 
those  used  on  the  otlier  (cf.  RVm  in  Mt  16"'-  and 


174 


BASKET 


BASON 


Mk8"'').     Our  Lord  preserved  the  distinction,  aud 
our  present  Gospels  have  also  done  so. 

'  Basket '  occurs  in  the  EV  Gospels  in  the  above  passages  only. 
The  older  English  versions  use  the  confusing  rendering  of 
'baskets'  for  both  words,  except  that  Wyclif  has  'coffvns' 
and  'leepis.'  By  'coffyn'  he  evidently  meant  a  small  basket. 
Rheims  renders  ff-r^p.Swf,  'maundes,' i.e.  hand-baskets.  David- 
son (-Vr,  1875)  at  Jlk  819- 2"  has  'basketfuls'  for  »«?;.»i«  and 
'  walletsful '  for  rr-j^^hu^^  as  if  he  had  found  ■xr.p^v. 

The  authors  of  such  renderings  a.s  the  above  for- 
got that  St.  Paul  (Ac  9^)  made  his  escape  in  a 
CTiri/pis.  This  fact  at  once  excludes  wallets  or  hand- 
baskets.  If  the  distinction  was  one  of  size  at  all, 
which  is  not  certain,  we  should  perhaps  have  to 
as.suine  that  the  airvph  was  the  larger.  Bevan 
(Smith's  DB^  i.  172)  says  that  tlie  k6^ii>os  was  the 
larger,  quoting  Etyin.  Mag.,pa9u  khI  koiXov  x<-'PVt^'>; 
and  the  use  of  cop/iinus  in  Latin,  e.g.  Colum.  xi.  3, 
p.  460,  as  containing  manure  enough  to  make  a 
hotbed.  Greswell  {Diss.  viii.  pt.  4,  vol.  ii.)  thought 
that  the  cophinus  was  big  enough  to  sleep  in.  He 
probably  misunderstood  the  i)assage  in  Juvenal 
quoted  below  ;  for  though  the  hay  may  have  been 
used  as  a  bed,  it  Is  7iot  said  that  it  was  in  the 
cophinu.t.  Nor  is  it  clear  that  the  Latin  cophinijs 
and  the  Greek  Kdtptros  were  at  all  times  identical 
in  meaning  (so  the  French  balle  is  not  a  cannon- 
ball  but  a  musket  bullet,  while  our  cannon-ball  is 
a  boulet).  Let  us  examine  the  two  words  more 
closely. 

(1)  x6<fivat  is  said  to  be  derived  from  xirrai ;  but  this  appears 
to  be  more  than  doubtful,  and  the  grammarians  considered  it; 
less  Attic  than  ipfix':,  which  was  clearly  a  wicker  or  flag 
basket.  In  the  Or.  OT  it  is  used  by  LXX  and  S\Tnm.  for  Heb. 
dud  in  Ps  80  [SI)",  and  by  Symm.  only  in  Jer  2Ji-  2  (where  L.X.X 
has  «ix»fo.-),  and  for  sal  by  Aq.  in  Gn  4016  (where  LX.X  has 
««>«).  Certainly  in  the  two  latter  passages  a  small  basket, 
carried  in  the  hand,  or  on  the  head,  would  suit  the  contexts. 
Suidas  dctines  «.  as  ccyym.  ^xmrn.  In  CIG  1025,  lines  44-46, 
it  is  clearly  a  corn-basket  of  a  recognized  size ;  cf.  also  CI9 
2347  k.  In  Xen.  A  nab.  iii.  S.  G  it  occurs  as  a  dung-basket  (see 
the  Latin  (-op/iiiiits  in  Columella,  as  cited  above).  It  is  said  that 
the  Jews  at  Rome  carried  cophini  about  with  them  to  avoid 
the  chance  of  food  contracting  any  Levitical  pollution  in 
heathen  places.  The  reason  given  appears  fanciful,  and  anv- 
how  would  hardly  apply  to  the  journeys  of  our  Lord  and  llis 
apostles.  But  the  fact  is  vouched  for  by  Juvenal  (Sa(.  iii. 
"  •     '  Judaeis.  quorum  cophinus  fffinumque  supelli  '    " 


fiEuoque  rehcto 


mendicat 


•Cophi 

in  aurem  ')  and  ilartial  (.Epig.  v.  7). 

(2)  cr.,p,<  (or  <r.-w„-,  as  WH  prefer)  U  not  found  in  the  LXX. 
It  is  generally  connected  with  r-rupo.= anything  liristed  (\'ulg. 

mitives  sporUlla  &nd  sporttUa  occur, 

i-baskets).     Hesychius  explains  trrvfi: 


sporta,  of  which  I 


fore  Pentecost,  the  season  of  wheat  harv 
miracle  took  place,  thedisoiples  wereable  to  use  corn-baskets, 
while  the  first  miracle  happening  before  Passover  time,  they 
used  another  kind  of  basket !  Besides  the  improbability  of 
this,  we  may  note  that  there  is  no  proof  that  in  either  cisethe 
baskets  belonged  to  or  were  carried  about  by  the  disciples,  for 
they  may  have  been  borrowed  when  needed.  Yet  Trench 
(Miracles,  p.  380  note  2)  inquires  why  the  aiwstles  should  have 
been  provided  with  either  kind,  and  mentions  (a)  that  perhaps 
they  carried  their  provisions  with  them  while  travelling  through 
a  polluted  land,  such  as  Samaria  (vetcf.  Jn  4'<  431  44?  Lk  95-); 
and  ((/)  he  also  mentions  Greswell  s  theorv,  that  the  disciples 


;  baskets  in  order  1 


applying  to  the  Twelve  in  the  Holy  Land  what 

''  about  Jewish  beggars  at  Rome. 

2  Co  11»,  and  as  the  Vulg.  has 


Roman 

spoita  in  both  places  (and  also  in  the  Gospels  for  c-rvf!!  but 
for  niiiw),  we  are  led  to  inquire  as  to  the  force  of  r«t/>yi«:.  It 
is  used  of  anything  twisted  like  a  rope,  or  woven  of  rope  (^Esch. 
Suppl.  791—T>.iyfux.  T,  U  rz'i'-'",  Suid.).  Fish-baskets  were 
specially  so  made  (its  <rx»j»<'«»  TA(>.,a«T»,  i/,-  iirtiixi'  '•x^imt, 
Etym.  Mag.'),  as  rush-baskets  are  used  in  London. 

Meyer  considered  the  difference  between  a-n-vpU 
and  Ko>iyos  to  lie  not  in  size,  but  in  k60i»os  being  a 
"eneral  term,  and  awvph  specially  a  food-basket. 
Perhaps  the  true  force  of  the  words  we  have  dis- 
cussed is  to  be  discovered  in  the  use  made  of  them 
by  Greek-speaking  working  people  at  the  present 
day.  The  writer  of  this  article  has  therefore  con- 
sulted a  Greek  priest,  the  Rev.  H.  A.  Teknopoulos. 
In  his  reply  he  .says  :  '  In  Asia  Minor  and  in  Con- 
stantinople our  porters  call  k60i>'os  that  big  and 
deep  basket  in  which  they  carry  different  things. 


Zxvpls  is  a  smaller  and  round  and  shallow  basket. 
^apydvT]  is  a  long  bag,  knitted  by  {i.e.  of)  rope, 
which  is  in  one  way  very  like  the  SiKTvov  of  fish, 
but  is  different  from  it  in  other  way(s).' 

One  might  ask  whether  the  cTup!;  of  Ac  92=  is  not  an  error  of 
memory  on  the  part  of  St.  Luke.  St.  Paul  in  his  own  account 
of  his  escape  would  surely  use  the  right  word.  If  so,  the  sup- 
posed need  for  a  impit  being  big  enough  to  hold  a  person  dis- 
appears, and  we  may  accept  the  decision  of  those  who  consider 
it  the  smaller  of  the  two  kinds  mentioned  in  the  Gospels. 

George  Farmer. 
BASON*  {fiTTTTip  only  in  Jn  13^  elra  j3aX\«  ijdoip  (is 
Tov  viiTTijpa  :  Vul^.  dcinde  mittit  aqiiam  in  pelvim  : 
AV  '  after  that  lie  poureth  water  into  a  bason ' : 
RV  '  then  he  pouretu  water  into  the  bason '). 

The  Gr.  .i-rrr/>  is  not  found  elsewhere  in  XT,  nor  in  LXX,  nor 
in  Gr.  profane  literature  (except  in  Eccl.  writers  dealing  with 
this  passage).  Hence  Liddell  and  Scott,  s.v.,  refer  only  to  this 
instance.  The  Vulg.  peh-is,  though  found  in  Juvenal,  etc., 
occurs  in  the  Bible  only  in  Jer  5219. 

The  general  sense  of  rnvryp  is,  of  course,  plain, 
both  from  tlie  context  and  from  tlie  cognate  verbs 
vIttuv  and  pll^eiv  both  in  the  Bible  and  in  profane 
Greek.  (The  former  is  the  Biblical  form,  17  times 
in  NT,  including  our  passage  (8  times),  and  25  times 
in  LXX).  It  is  usually  '  to  wash  a  part  of  the  body ' 
—e.ff.  the  face,  Mt  6" ;  the  hatids,  Mt  15=  =  Mk 
7' ;  the  feet,  1  Ti  51",— so  Ex  SO'^- '»  etc.  Ju  9'-  "•  >= 
seem  to  be  exceptions,  because  the  washing  was  in 
the  Pool  of  Siloani ;  but  here  it  is  only  the  eyes  that 
are  concerned,  and  therefore  we  need  not  assume 
that  the  man  '  bathed.'  A  real  exception  is  Lv  15'-, 
where  the  wooden  vessel  vKpijaeTai ;  but  note  con- 
trasted use  of  viTTuv,  7c\vvnv,  aud  Xoiitadai.  in  15". 

The  noun  viin-rip  therefore  denotes  an  article  (not 
necessarily  a  vessel)  specially  suitable  or  intended 
for  use  in  washing  jonr<  of  the  body.  We  note  the 
article  rbv  fnr-njpa,  neglected  b^  AV  («  bason)  but 
noticed  by  RV  {the  bason).  Was  it  the  ordinary 
viTTTrip  of  the  house  ?  In  that  case  the  use  of  the 
article  is  like  that  in  rbv  ti.ddioi>,  ttjk  ^vxi'ia.v  in  Mt 
5"  etc.  Or  was  it  a  vessel  sot  apart  for  ceremonial 
ablution,  such  as  would  be  required  by  the  religious 
feast  in  which  thej-  were  engaged  ? 

But,  in  spite  of  the  Vulg.  and  modem  versions, 
it  is  doubtful  if  the  word  '  bason '  conveys  to  us  a 
good  idea  of  the  article  and  of  the  scene. 

The  Eastern  mode  of  washing  either  hands  or 
feet,  when  performed  by  an  attendant,  seems  to 
have  been  always  by  the  attendant  pouring  water 
01)  the  member,  not  by  dipping  the  member  in  the 
water.  Cf.  2  K  3"  '  Elislia  tlie  son  of  Shaphat, 
which  poured  water  on  the  hands  of  Elijah.' 
Kitto's  note  in  Pictorial  Bible-,  ii.  330,  with  two 
illustrations,  is  convincing  on  this  jxiint. 

'The  Hebrews  were  accustomed  to  wash  their  hands  in  the 
manner  which  is  now  universal  in  the  East,  and  which,  what- 
ever may  be  thought  of  its  convenience,  is  unquestionably  more 
refreshing  and  cleanly  than  \\ashing  in  the  water  as  it  stands 
in  a  basin— which  is  a  process  regarded  by  Orientals  with  great 
disgust.  The  hands  are  therefore  held  over  a  basin,  the  use  of 
which  is  only  to  receite  the  water  which  has  been  poured  upon 
the  hands  from  the  jug  or  ewer  which  is  held  above  them. 
This  cannot  very  conveniently  be  managed  without  the  aid  of  a 
servant  or  some  other  person.' 

Of  course,  this  extract  refers  only  to  tlie  washing 
of  hands. 

(1)  The  incident  of  the  sinful  woman  who  wept 
over  our  Lord's  feet,  and  iviped  them  with  the 
hairs  of  her  head  (Lk  7''-^),  is  much  better  ex- 
plained by  comparing  her  action  with  that  of  the 
host  or  his  servant  pmtring  water  on  a  guest's 
feet,  tlian  by  supposing  that  the  guest  immersed 
his  feet  in  a  footbath  (Lk  7").  (2)  It  is  true  that 
iroSanTmip  is  found  in  Pollux,  Onoin.  x.  78,  but  here 

•  I-  "  •••'•-   '  '  Revised  OT  of  '  Readings  and  Render- 

iii„'-  ;  American  Revisers,'  §  viii.,  we  read: 

•  TI  I-  preferred  for  the  following  words: 

"I  •  tc,  but  no  such  note  appears  in  the 


BASON 


a  definition  of  the  nirri)/)  is  contained  in  tlie  word. 
'  Basins  '  are  such  common  articles,  that  if  St.  John 
liad  meant  to  name  one  he  need  not  have  used  an 
unique  word.  (3)  The  position  of  the  Apostles 
and  of  the  guests  at  the  feast  of  Lk  7  was  a  re- 
clining one.  This  would  not  he  compatible  with 
the  use  of  a  basin  or  footbath  in  the  ordinary 
sense  of  even  partially  immersing  the  foot.  (4) 
Dr.  A.  R.  S.  Kennedy  (art.  '  Bath,  Bathing '  in 
Hastings'  DB  i.  257'')  sliows  that  '  atl'usion,  pouring 
on '  of  water,  was  probably  meant  in  many  cases 
where  we  read  '  bathe '  or  '  wash.' 

We  therefore  think  that  the  viirr-fip  was  a  jug  or 
ewer,  with  a  dish,  saucer  or  basin,  under  it  to  catch 
the  drippings,  but  that  the  stress  of  the  word  is  not 
on  this  under-basin.  We  also  think  that  it  was 
kept  chiefly  in  the  house,  and  used  for  the  many 
'hand-washings'  which  the  Jews  practised  (Mt 
15-,  Mk  V  etc.),  but  also  for  any  ceremonial  ab- 
lution. Hence  it  was  ready  in  the  upper  room,  as 
part  of  the  preparation  made  by  the  '  goodman  of 
the  house'  (Mk  14'=,  Lk  22'-),  and  therefore  is  dis- 
tinguished by  the  article. 

It  may  be  asked  whether  the  feet-washing  in  Jn  13  was 
ceremonial.  As  we  understand  the  matter,  the  GaUlxan  dis- 
ciples, either  because  they  had  never  adopted  the  Pharisaic 
strictness  about  '  washings,'  or  (less  probably)  because  our  Lord 
had  condemned  them,  were  not  in  the  habit  of  observing  them 
(Mt  162,  Mk  71-1).  Our  Lord  defended  His  followers  (Mk  75-23, 
Mt  163-20).  In  the  upper  room  they  found  all  things  ready  for 
the  observance.  Whether  they  did  observe  it  before  a  meal 
which  was  not  an  ordinary  one,  we  do  not  know.  But  there 
was  another  observance,  not  of  ceremony  but  of  courtesy  and 
comfort  (Lk  7*^),  in  which  eacn  might  have  acted  as  host  or  as 
servant  to  the  other  if  the  spirit  of  love  had  ruled  in  their 
hearts.  Christ  would  teach  them  this  lesson  (Jn  13'2- 16).  In- 
cidentally He  taught  them  other  lessons,  which  they  could  not 
fully  understand  at  the  time,  about  the  cleansing  of  the  soul, 
daily  defilement,  and  the  duty  of  preparation  before  receiving 
the  Eucharist.  In  this  Christian  sense  the  feet-washing  was 
ceremonial,  or  rather  typical,  but  it  was  not  a  recognition  of 
any  validity  in  the  '  traditions  of  the  elders.'  The  main  lessons 
for  the  time  were  those  of  humility,  self-abasement,  and  love. 
Our  Lord  used  the  ^urnp  standing  by  to  teach  these. 

Kitto  (Pictorial  Bible^,  ii.  331)  says:  'In  the 
East,  the  basin,  which,  as  well  as  the  ewer,  is 
usually  of  tinned  copper,  has  commonly  a  sort  of 
cover,  rising  in  the  middle,  and  sunk  into  the  basin 
at  the  margin,  which,  being  pierced  with  holes, 
allows  the  water  to  pass  through,  thus  concealing 
it  after  being  defiled  by  use.  The  ewer  has  a  long 
spout,  and  a  long  narrow  neck,  with  a  cover,  and 
is  altogether  not  unlike  our  coffee-pots  in  general 
appearance  :  it  is  the  same  which  the  Orientals  use 
in  all  their  ablutions.' 

We  notice  that  the  assistance  of  a  servant  or  of  a 
friend  is  necessary.  This  is  sometimes  mentioned, 
e.q.  1  Ti  51",  1 S  25",  and  is  probably  implied  in  Gn 
18<  19=  24=2  etc.  But  in  the  cases  where  the  English 
versions  suggest  nothing  of  the  kind,  the  Heb.  is 
the  I^al  of  fOT  as  in  IS  25-"  (of.  Dr.  Kennedy's 
article  cited  above). 

Lane's  account  (Modern  Egyptians,  oh.  5)  is 
similar  :  '  A  servant  brings  him  a  basin  and  ewer 
(called  tisht  and  ibreek)  of  tinned  copper  or  brass. 
The  former  of  these  has  a  cover  pierced  with  holes, 
with  a  raised  receptacle  for  the  soap  in  the  middle  ; 
and  the  water  being  poured  upon  the  hands,  passes 
through  this  cover  into  the  space  below,  so  that  when 
the  basin  is  brought  to  a  second  person  the  water 
with  which  the  former  one  has  washed  is  not  seen.' 

Our  conclusion  therefore  is  that  the  vi-n-T-qp  was 
most  probably  not  a  '  large  basin,'  but  the  set  of 
ewer  and  basin  combined,  kept  in  every  Jewish 
house  for  the  purpose  of  cleansing  either  the  hands 
or  the  feet  by  means  of  affusion. 


*  Oriental  Secretary  to  Lord  Raglan  during  the  Crimean  War, 
translator  of  the  Turkish  Praver-Book,  and  reviser  of  the 
Arabic  Praycr-Book,  author  of  Turkish,  Arabic,  and  Modern 
Ureek  Grammars. 


ing  of  ..Ti-v,  The  Bible  Society's  Arabic  NT  has  maghml,  a 
noun  of  time  and  place  =  '  washing  '  and  '  a  place  for  washing," 
not  a  correct  rendering.  The  SPCK  version  has  mathar  (cf. 
Heb.  n.'nE)  =  'puriflcation, "place  or  time  of  purification,' also  an 
incorrect  rendering.  The  word  tesht  is  the  e.\act  rendering  of 
the  Gr.  word  vnrr.p.  It  comes  from  a  root='to  pour  or  rain 
slightly.' 

The  tesht  and  ibreeq  are  made  of  either  metal  or  earthenware, 
with  a  strainer  of  the  same  material  placed  inside  the  tesht  (or 
basin),  never  outside  or  under,  and  in  the  middle  of  the  strainer 
there  is  a  small  raised  place  for  the  soap.  The  itneen  (Syrian 
and  Egyptian  Arabic)  is  a  water-jug,  with  a  spout  for  the  water 
to  come  through  like  a  coffee-pot,  from  which  the  water  is 
poured  on  the  hands  or  feet,  which  are  held  over  the  basin. 
They  are  to  be  found  in  every  Eastern  house,  especiallv  in 
Mohammedan  houses  ;  they  are  used  continually  in  the  morn- 
ings. There  are  no  washstands  in  the  houses.  The  servant 
holds  the  tesht  on  the  palm  of  his  left  hand  and  the  ibreeh  in 
his  right  hand,  and  a  clean  towel  placed  on  his  left  shoulder  for 
each  person  (Jn  13^),  who  washes  his  face  and  hands,  taking  the 
towel  from  off  the  servant's  shoulder.  The  towel  is  thrown 
down,  and  the  servant  puts  a  fresh  one  for  the  next  person  to 

use-  George  Farmer. 

BATH,  BATHING.— The  immersing  or  washing 
of  the  whole  person  may  be  a  matter  of  cleanli- 
ness, or  of  luxury,  or  of  religious  observance,  or  of 
health. 

(1)  Cleanliness  per  se  may  be  set  aside.  It  is 
possible  to  be  cleanly  with  less  elaborate  apparatus  ; 
and  the  majority  in  OT  (or  even  NT)  times  would 
have  '  neither  privacy  nor  inclination  '  for  bathing. 
(2)  Luxury  in  the  classical  world  (diffused  even 
among  the  people,  under  Koman  influence,  at  least 
subsequently  to  NT  times)  included  plunge-baths 
and  much  besides.  When  (ireek  culture  tried  to  in- 
vade Judaa  under  Antiochus  Epiphanes  (e.  168  B.C. ), 
it  doubtless  brought  Greek  batliing  establishments 
with  it.  And  when  Western  culture  came  in  resist- 
lessly  under  Herod  (B.C.  40-4),  it  must  have  intro- 
duced the  practice  in  many  places  ;  cf.  an  anecdote 
of  Gamaliel  II.  in  Schiirer,  HJP  II.  i.  18,  53.  (3) 
Religious  observance,  under  OT  law,  according 
to  Professor  Kennedy  (art.  'Bath,  Bathing'  in 
Hastings'  DB  i.  257''),  required  a  partial  washing, 
or  a  washing  tvith  water  rather  than  bathing.  '  The 
Heb.  of  the  OT  does  not  distinguish  '  between  bath- 
ing and  a  partial  washing.  '  Both  are  expressed  by 
Y^l-'  However,  Schiirer  insists  that  Talmudic  usage 
codifies  the  custom  which  had  long  been  in  vogue  ; 
and  Kennedy  grants  that  '  the  bath  became,'  even 
'  for  the  laity  ...  an  all-important  factor  in  the 
religious  life.'  Nay,  proselyte  baptism  must  be 
earlier  than  the  NT,  and  it  requires  a  bath,  tebilah 
(tubal  is  used  in  one  unambiguous  OT  passage,  the 
miracle  of  Naaman's  cleansing,  2  K  5").  We  hear 
also  of  daily  bathing  anion"  the  Essenes  (Jos.  BJ 
II.  viii.  5).  And,  finally,  John's  baptism  was  by 
immersion  (as  was  that  also  of  the  early  Christian 
Chuich,  Ac  8^8,  Ro  &■  %  (4)  The  use  of  mineral 
baths  for  health's  sake  is  always  popular.  There 
are  remains  of  such  baths  near  Tiberias ;  those  at 
Gadara  and  at  Callirrhoe  were  very  celebrated  in 
ancient  times.  Jn  S^''  gives  us  an  example  of  such 
bathing,  though  Christ's  miracle  dispensed  with 
the  waters  of  Bethesda.  In  another  passage  (Jn  9') 
we  have  a  partial  washing  (at  the  Pool  of  Siloam) 
as  a  stage  towards  completion  of  a  miracle. 

Thus  bathing  was  well  enough  known  in  NT 
times.  Our  Lord's  language  in  Jn  13'"  turns  on 
the  distinction  between  bathing  (the  whole  iier- 
son)  and  washing  (the  feet).  Quite  conceivably  a 
Christian  sacrament  might  have  grown  out  of  this 
incident.  Nothing  is  more  impressive  at  Oberam- 
mergau  than  the  threefold  journey  of  the  Christus 
round  the  company — so  it  is  represented — minister- 
ing to  the  disciples  (1)  the  feet-wasliing,  (2)  the 
bread,  (3)  the  cup.  See,  further,  artt.  Bason, 
Purification.  Robert  Mackintosh. 

BATH  KOL.— See  Voice. 

BEACH.— The  KV  tr.  of  aly^aU^,  which  the  AV 


176 


BEAM  AND  ]\IOTE 


renders  '  shore.'  In  the  Gospels  the  word  occurs 
only  in  Mt  13"- •"  and  Jn  21^.  In  classical  Greek 
alyia\6t  usually,  though  not  always,  means  that 
part  of  the  seashore  on  wliich  the  tide  ebbs  and 
flows,  and  in  the  above  passages  in  the  Gospels  it 
stands  for  the  sandy  or  pebbly  part  of  the  shore  of 
the  Lake  of  Galilee  waslied  by  the  waves.  The 
derivation  is  doubtful,  but  is  probably  from  eiyirfij.i 
and  fiXs,  i.e.  the  place  where  the  sea  breaks. 
The  greater  part  of  the  western  margin  of  tlie 
Lake  of  Galilee  is  girdled  with  a  belt  of  '  silver 
strand '  composed  of  pebbles  and  sand  mingled 
witli  delicate  white  shells.  On  such  a  beach,  if 
the  traditional  scene  be  correct,  tlie  multitude 
was  gathered  listening  as  Jesus  spoke  from  the 
l>oat;  and  on  such  a  'beach'  He  stood  waiting 
for  the  disciples  to  come  ashore  in  the  morning, 
when  for  '  the  third  time  he  was  manifested  to 
them  after  that  he  was  risen  from  the  dead' 
(Jn  21").  J.  Cromarty  Smith. 

BEAM  AND  MOTE The  proverb  of  the  '  beam ' 

and  the  'mote'  occurs  in  Mt  1^-^  and  in  the 
parallel  passage  Lk  6"-  *-.  It  condemns  the  man 
who  looks  at  the  '  mote '  in  another's  eye  while  a 
'  beam '  unconsidered  is  in  his  own ;  and  it  points 
out  the  futility  and  hypocrisy  of  the  attempt  to 
<ast  out  the  mote  from  the  eye  of  a  brother  while 
t  he  beam  remains  in  one's  own  eye.  The  proverb 
appears  to  have  been  current  in  various  forms 
among  Jews  and  Arabs.  Tlioluck,  in  his  Com- 
mentary on'the  Sermon  on  the  Mount,  gives  several 
illustrations  ;  e.g.  from  the  Bciba  Bathra  :  '  In  the 
days  when  the  judges  were  judged  themselves,  said 
the  judge  to  one  of  them.  Take  the  .splinter  out  of 
thine  eye  ;  whereat  he  made  reply,  "Take  thou  the 
beam  out  of  thine  eye';  and  from  Meidani  {ap. 
Freytag) :  '  How  seest  thou  the  splinter  in  thy 
brother's  eye  and  seest  not  tlie  cross-beam  in  thine 
eye?' 

There  is  no  obscurity  in  the  terms  used.  The 
word  6ok6s  is  common  in  classical  writers  for  a 
beam  of  wood,  and  is  used  in  the  LXX  (Gn  19', 
1  K  6",  Ca  1")  to  translate  n-iip,  a  beam  used  in 
the  roof  of  a  house.  Grimm-Tliayer  derives  from 
SiKofxai  Ion.  for  S4xofMi  with  the  idea  of  bcarinrj ,  ,so 
that  SoKos  is  that  which  supports  a  building.  So 
Plummer  ( '  St.  Luke '  in  Internat.  Crit.  Com. )  says  : 
'  The  Sok6^  is  the  bearing  beam,  the  main  beam, 
that  which  receives  the  other  beams  in  a  roof  or 
floor.'  A.  B.  Bruce  ('St.  Matthew'  in  Expositor's 
Greek  Test.)  says  :  '  5ok6s,  a  wooden  beam  ('  let  in,' 
from  SixofJ-ai)  or  joist.'  Clearly  a  large  piece  of 
timber  is  suggested,  such  as  could  not  literally  be 
in  the  eye.  The  symbol  has  the  touch  of  exaggera- 
tion familiar  in  Oriental  proverbs,  as,  e.g.,  in  the 
camel  and  the  needle's  eye. 

The  '  mote '  (t6  Kip(pos,  from  Kipipoi,  '  to  contract," 
'  dry  up,'  '  wither  ')  may  be  a  dry  stalk  or  twig,  or 
aiw  small  dry  body.  The  word  is  used  in  the 
LXX  (Gn  8")  to  render  in?,  the  adj.  applied  to 
the  olive-leaf  brought  by  the  dove.  Weymouth 
{NT  in  Modern  Speech)  renders  '  speck.' 

It  is  clear,  therefore,  that  the  point  of.  the  pro- 
verb lies  in  the  contrast  between  a  smaller  fault 
in  the  person  criticised  and  a  greater  one  in  the 
critic.  The  figures  chosen  express  the  contrast  in 
a  very  emphatic  way,  pushing  it,  indeed,  to  the 
verge  of  absurdity,  to  suggest  the  essential  folly 
of  the  unbrotlierly  and  insincere  faultfinder. 

Various  illustrations  are  given  by  commentators 
of  the  possibly  greater  defect  of  the  man  who  is 
finding  fault  with  liis  neighbour.  Morison,  e.g., 
quotes  Augustine  as  comparing  '  settled  hatred ' 
(the  beam)  witli  a  passing  burst  of  anger  (the 
mote).  A.  B.  Bruce  (/.c.)says:  'The  faiilts  may 
be  of  the  same  kind  :  ^d/)0o!  a  petty  theft,  5ok6s 
commercial  dislionesty  on  a  large  scale  .  .  .  ;  or  a 


different  sort :  moral  laxity  in  the  publican,  pride 
and   inhumanity  in    the    Pharisee   who    despised 

All  such  illustrations  are  to  the  point,  for  the 
proverb  is  capable  of  many  applications  ;  and  it  is 
very  often  true  that  men  eager  to  correct  others 
liave  great  and  obvious  faults  of  their  own  which 
disqualify  them  for  the  office.  It  seems  clear, 
however,  that  '  the  beam '  is  very  definitely  the 
censorious  spirit.  Our  passage,  as  it  stands  in 
St.  Matthew,  follows  immediately  upon  the  general 
exhortation  'judge  not,'  and  the  warning,  'with 
what  measure  ye  mete  it  shall  be  measured  unto 
you.'  There  is  a  spirit  which  sees  and  notes  faults 
in  others  where  true  goodness  would  be  blind. 
The  '  beholding '  is  in  the  judgment  of  Jesus  often 
a  much  greater  evil  than  tlie  fault  it  beholds. 
Sucli  a  spirit  leads  a  man  on  to  the  officious 
attempt  to  correct  others,  and  makes  him  doubly 
unfit  for  the  task.  To  cast  out  the  mote  from 
another's  eye  is  always  difficult.  It  needs  clear 
sight  and  wonderful  delicacy  of  touch.  To  the 
censorious  man,  blind  in  his  fancied  superiority,  it 
is  of  all  tasks  the  most  impossible.  Moreover,  the 
censorious  spirit  is  closely  akin  to  hypocrisy.  It 
pretends  to  zeal  for  righteousness,  but  really  cares 
only  for  personal  superiority.  A  sincere  man 
begins  with  that  humble  self-judgment  which  is 
fatal  to  uncharitable  judgments  of  others.  A  zeal 
for  righteousness  which  begins  with  correction  of 
others  stands  convicted  of  dishonesty  at  the  outset. 
If  a  man  has  once  taken  the  true  ground  of  lowly 
penitence,  if  he  has  cast  out  the  proud,  self-sufficient, 
censorious  spirit,  he  will  leave  no  other  beam  un- 
noticed in  his  own  eye.  He  will  be  too  much 
occupied  with  the  task  of  self-discipline  to  be  the 
quick  and  eager  censor  of  others.  Vet  he  will  not 
be  blind  to  moral  distinctions.  On  the  contrary, 
the  single  eye  will  be  full  of  light ;  and  while  he 
will  have  no  wish  to  '  behold '  tlie  mote  in  his 
brother's,  he  will  see  clearly  to  cast  it  out.  Love 
and  pride  are  both  quick  to  observe ;  but  with 
what  different  results ! 

In  St.  Luke's  Gospel  our  passage  stands  in  a 
slightly  different  connexion.  There  the  command 
'judge  not' is  separated  from  the  proverb  of  the 
Mote  and  the  Beam  by  the  verses  which  speak  of 
the  reward  of  generous  giving,  of  blind  leaders  of 
the  blind,  of  the  disciple  not  above  his  master. 
A.  B.  Bruce  suggests  that  the  parable  comes  in 
at  this  point,  because  censoriousness  is  a  natural 
fault  of  young  disciples.  In  any  case  the  essential 
meaning  of  the  passage  remains  unchanged. 

LiTERATTTRE. — Dykes,  Manifesto  of  the  King,  536  ff. ;  Dale, 
Laios  of  Christ  for  Common  Life,  93  ff. 

E.  H.  TITCHMAR.SH. 

BEATITUDE.— 

i.  Derivation  and  Meaning, 
ii.  Significance  of  fj-axapm. 
iii.  The  NT  Beatitudes. 

1.  .Single  Sayings. 

2.  The  Group  of  Sayings. 

iv.  The  '  Beatitudes"  in  Matthew  and  Luke. 

1.  Their  number  in  Matthew. 

2.  The  relation  of  the  two  versions. 

3.  Order  and  connexion  of  thought. 


i.  Derivation  and  Meaning. — The  Latin  word 
beatitudo  is  derived  from  bedtus,  the  past  participle 
of  bearc,  'to  make  happy,'  'to  bless'  (cf.  bene  and 
bonus).  Trench  sa5's  that  beatitas  and  beatitudo 
are  both  words  of:  Cicero's  coining  ;  yet,  '  as  he 
owns  himself,  with  something  strange  and  un- 
attractive about  them.'*  On  this  account  they 
'  found  almost  no  accei^tance  at  all  in  the  classical 
literature  of  Rome.      Beatitudo,  indeed,  found  a 

'Th-  niiU  [M"(_^.-  in  which  Cicero  appears  to  use  the  two 
u^  I  '  \  i'         liitirum,\.'M:'lstasimbeatitas,si\]e,beati- 

t"  t    '  ni  tnque  omnino  durum,  sed  ttsu  mtiUicnda 


BEATITUDE 


BEATITUDE 


177 


home,  as  it  deserved  to  do,  in  the  Christian 
Church,  but  beatitas  none'  (Study  of  Words^",  p. 
210). 

The  primary  meaning  of  '  beatitude '  is  blessed- 
ness. In  the  earliest  example  of  its  use  quoted  in 
Murray's  Dictionary  (1491,  Caxton),  it  signities 
supreme  blessedness ;  hence  it  was  frequently 
used  to  describe  the  bliss  of  heaven.  Cf.  Milton, 
Par.  Lost,  iii.  62— 

'About  Him  all  the  Sanctities  of  Heaven 

Stood  thick  as  stars,  and  from  His  sight  received 

Beatitude  past  utterance." 
Trapp  applies  the  word  to  '  such  as  are  set  out  of 
the  reach  of  evil  in  the  most  joyous  condition, 
having  just  cause  to  be  everlastingly  merry  as 
being  6ca<i  re  et  spe,  "blessed  in  hand  and  in  hope."  ' 
But  there  is  nothing  in  the  connotation  of  the 
word  itself  to  suggest  whether  the  blessedness  is 
enjoyed  on  earth  or  in  heaven  ;  the  context  must 
show  whether  it  refers  to  an  experience  in  the 
present  or  to  a  hope  for  the  future. 

■riie  secondary  meaning  of  '  beatitude '  is  a  de- 
claration of  blessedness.  This  declaration  may  be 
made  of  glorified  saints  in  heaven,  as  in  the  Beati- 
tudes of  the  Apocalypse  ;  or  of  disciples  on  earth, 
as  in  nearly  all  the  Beatitudes  of  the  Gospels. 
But  the  word  is  unduly  restricted  in  its  signi- 
ficance when  it  is  used  as  a  synonym  for  beatifi- 
cation,— a  Roman  Catholic  ceremony  wherein  an 
inferior  degree  of  canonization  is  conferred  on  a 
deceased  person.  The  Pope  considers  his  claims  to 
beatitude  ;  and  if  these  are  approved,  proclaims  his 
admission  to  the  Beatific  Vision,  and  sanctions  the 
ascription  to  him  by  the  faithful    of    the    title 

ii.  Significance  op  /iaxapio?.  —  In  our  Lord's 
declarations  of  blessedness  He  used  a  word  {imko.- 
Moi)  which  has  an  instructive  history,  and  passed 
by  the  pagan  word  for  '  happiness '  or  '  well-being ' 
{evdaiij.ovia)  which  is  not  found  in  the  New  Testa- 
ment. In  Homer  the  gods  are  the  blessed  {fidKapes) 
ones,  because  they  excel  mortal  men  in  power  or 
in  knowledge  rather  than  in  virtue.  '  As  com- 
pared with  men,  in  conduct  they  are  generally 
characterized  by  superior  force  and  intellect,  but 
by  inferior  morality '  (Gladstone,  Homer  and  the 
Homeric  Age).  The  Greek  despair  of  attaining 
blessedness  on  earth  led  to  the  frequent  use  of 
'  blessed '  as  synonymous  with  dead  ;  Aristotle 
also  distinguishes  between  /xaKapur/ids  or  Divine 
blessedness,  and  dbaiixovla  or  human  blessedness 
{Ethic.  Nicom.  x.  8).  It  is  therefore  suggestive 
that  the  Christian  conception  of  beatitude  should 
find  expression  in  a  word  closely  associated  with 
descriptions  of  the  blessedness  of  the  gods  and 
'originally  stronger  and  more  ideal  than  evdal/ioii>. 
.  .  .  This  is  manifest  in  Aristotle,  with  whom  the 
Mtt/tdpios  as  opposed  to  ^vSeijs  is  lie  who  lacks  no 
good'  (Crenier,  Biblico-Theol.  Lex.  of  NT  Greek, 
p.  776). 

But  the  word  which  describes  the  blessedness  of 
those  who  lack  no  good  is  ennobled  by  our  Lord's 
use  of  it.  He  turns  the  thoughts  of  His  disciples 
from  outward  to  inward  good  ;  He  teaches  that 
blessedness  is  determined  not  by  fortune,  but  by 
goodness,  and  that  it  is  attainable  on  earth  by  all 
who  put  themselves  into  right  relation  to  God. 
In  His  Beatitudes,  therefore,  it  is  desirable  to 
translate  ^ua/tdpioi  'blessed'  rather  than  'happy.' 
(Cf.  the  saying  of  Carlyle  that  those  who  '  find 
blessedness'  can  'do  without  happiness').  Since 
the  word  'blessed'  fell  from  the  lips  of  Christ, 
His  Beatitudes  have  worthily  set  forth  an  ideal  of 
character  loftier  than  the  aristocratic  virtue  of 
the  Platonists,  a  joy  unknown  to  the  most  noble- 
minded  of  the  pleasure  -  seeking  Epicureans,  a 
satisfaction  of  soul  beyond  the  reach  of  the  self- 
sufficient  Stoic.     Like  the  chiming  of  sweet  bells. 


the  Beatitudes  call  men  to  enter  the  kingdom  in 
which  to  be  righteous  is  to  be  blessed  ;  they  appeal 
to  a  universal  longing  of  the  human  heart,  and 
they  promise  a  satisfaction  of  soul  which  can  be 
fount!  only  in  obedience  to  the  law  which  the  Son 
of  Man  proclaims  in  order  that  His  brethren  may 
be  blessed.  Beatitude  is  the  final  purpose  of  tlie 
most  perfect  law  ;  beatitude  is  the  experience  of 
tlie  humble  in  whose  heart  there  iei;j;ns  the  grace 
which  came  by  Jesus  Christ.  The  Beatitudes  of 
our  Lord  bring  the  word  '  blessed '  down  to  earth 
and  there  set  up  the  kingdom  of  heaven ;  they 
portray  no  remote  bliss,  nor  even  a  pleasure  near 
at  hand,  but  a  fulness  of  joy  within  the  soul. 
Henceforth  blessedness  is  seen  to  be  the  privilege 
not  only  of  those  who  are  exalted  above  all  earthly 
care  and  suft'ering,  but  also  of  those  who  still  share 
the  limitations  of  this  mortal  life  ;  it  depends  not 
on  outward  conditions  such  as  wealth  or  education 
(cf.  Plato,  Republic,  354  A,  335  E),  but  on  inward 
conditions  such  as  meekness  of  spirit  and  purity  of 
heart ;  it  is  not  the  prerogative  of  the  few  who 
have  been  initiated  into  the  secrets  of  a  Divine 
philosophy,  but  the  privilege  of  all  who  become 
loyal  disciples  of  Him  in  whose  life  the  perfect 
Law  was  perfectly  fulfilled. 

iii.  The  NT  Beatitudes.— 'Beatitude'  is  not  a 
Biblical  word,  but  it  is  properly  applied  to  all  the 
sayings  of  our  Lord  which  contain  a  declaration  of 
the  conditions  of  human  blessedness. 

1.  Sinrjlc  Sayings. — Isolated  Beatitudes  are  re- 
corded in  Matthew,  Luke,  and  John.  They 
describe  a  blissful  state  which  is  the  accompani- 
ment of  certain  conditions  of  soul,  or  the  reward 
of  virtuous  acts ;  but  the  blissful  state  is  almost 
always  represented  as  attainable  in  this  life.  (The 
exceptions  are  Lk  14"-  '^).  The  following  is  a  list 
(omitting  Lk  "•  '*)  of  the  single  sayings  or  Jesus  in 
which  He  declares  the  blessedness  of  those  who 
possess  spiritual  graces,  or  who  exemplify  some 
quality  of  virtue  in  their  actions  : — 

'  Blessed  is  he,  whosoever  shall  find  none  occa- 
sion of  stumbling  in  me.'     (Mt  11*,  cf.  Lk  7-^). 
'  Blessed  are  your  eyes,  for  they  see ;  and  your 

ears,  for  they  hear.'     (Mt  13>«,  cf.  Lk  10^). 
'  Blessed   art  thou,  Simon  Bar-Jona  ;   for  flesh 

and  blood  hath  not  revealed  it  unto  thee,  but 

my  Father  which  is  in  heaven.'     (Mt  16"). 
'  Blessed  are  they  that  hear  the  word  of  God  and 

keep  it.'    (Lk  ips). 
'Blessed  are  those   servants,   whom    the  Lord 

when  he  cometh  shall   find  watching.'      (Lk 

12^',  cf.  vv.  38- -is^  Mt24«). 
'  If  ye  know  these  things,  blessed  are  ye  if  ye  do 

them.'     (Jn  13"). 
'  Blessed  are  they  that  have  not  seen,  and  yet 

have  believed.'  (Jn  20^). 
[In  Mt  25^  a  difl"erent  word  (ei^oyriixivm)  is  used]. 
These  scattered  sayings  suffice  to  indicate  how 
often  our  Lord's  teaching  was  expressed  in  words 
of  blessing.  With  these  Beatitudes  in  the  canoni- 
cal Gospels  should  be  compared  one  preserved  by 
St.  Paul,  and  one  found  in  the  Codex  Beza? — 
'It  is  more  blessed   to  give  than  to  receive.' 

(Ac  20™). 
'If  thou   knowest    what  thou  doest,  thou  art 

blessed;  but  if  thou  knowest  not,   thou   art 

under  a  curse,  and  a  transgressor  of  the  law.' 

(Lk  6^  D). 
The  latter  saying  is  addressed  to  a  man  who  was 
working  on  the  Sabbath  ;  probably  it  einbodies  a 
genuine  tradition,  but  certainly  it  bears  witness  to 
the  early  recognition  of  the  Beatitude  as  one  of 
our  Lord's  favourite  methods  of  imparting  truth. 
In  the  fifth  of  the  New  Sayinas  of  Jesus  (see 
Grenfell  and  Hunt's  ed.  1904)  the  word  iMKipiot 
can  be  restored,  although  the  subject  of  the  Beati- 
tude has  been  lost.     Prof.  Adeney  directs  atten- 


BEATITUDE 


BEATITUDE 


tion  to  the  presence  in  the  Acts  of  Paul  and 
Thckla  of  a  number  of  fresh  Beatitudes.  St. 
Paul  is  represented  as  giving  utterance  not  only  to 
some  of  the  Beatitudes  of  Jesus,  but  also  to  such 
sayings  as  these — 

'  Blessed  are  they  that  keep  themselves  chaste, 
because  they  shall  be  called  the  temple  of 
God.' 

'Blessed  be  they  who  keep  the  baptism,  for 
they  shall  rest  in  Father,  Son,  and  Holy 
Spirit.' 
The  wTiter  of  this  apocryphal  book  imitates  our 
Lord's  Beatitudes,  and  expresses  in  this  form  both 
Pauline  teaching  and  his  own  ascetic  doctrine 
{Expositor,  5th  series  [1895],  vol.  ii.  p.  375). 

2.  The  Group  of  Sayings.  —  When  the  word 
'Beatitude'  is  used  in  the  plural,  it  refers  as  a 
rule  to  those  sayings  of  .Jesus,  grouped  at  the 
beginning  of  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount,  in  which 
He  solemnly  announces  who  are  the  blessed  in  the 
Kingdom  o{  heaven.  Early  examples  of  its  use  in 
this  significance  are— 'The  eight  beatitudes  that 
.  .  .  spryngeth  of  grace'  (1531,  Pilgr.  Pcrf.); 
'  This  quhilk  S.  Ambrose  callis  our  Lord's  beati- 
tudes'(1588,  H.  King  Canisius'  Catech.).  In  his 
<lc  Offic.  (i.  6)  Ambrose  says:  ' Hm  octo  Christi 
Beatitudincs  sunt  quasi  Christi  Paradoxa.' 

iv.  The  Beatitudes  in  Matthew  and  Luke. 
—A..  Their  number  in  Matthew. — The  'Beatitudes' 
are  recorded  in  Mt  5^""  and  Lk  6-"--^.  In  regard 
to  the  number  of  Beatitudes  in  Matthew  there 
have  been  diverse  opinions  ;  the  decision  depends 
upon  the  view  taken  of  vv.""'-— 

V. ".  '  Blessed  are  they  that  have  been  per- 
secuted for  righteousness'  sake  ;  for  tlieirs  is 
the  kingdom  of  heaven.' 

v.^'.  '  Blessed  are  ye  when  men  shall  reproach 
you,  and  persecute  you,  and  say  all  manner  of 
evil  against  you  falsely,  for  my  sake.' 

V.I-.  'Rejoice,  and  be  exceeding  glad  :  for  great 
is  your  reward  in  heaven :  for  so  persecuted 
they  the  prophets  which  were  before  you.' 
The  seven  Beatitudes  in  vv.^"'  describe  the  graces 
of  the  Christian  character  ;  these  are  followed  in 
v.'"  by  another  Beatitude  which  assumes  that  those 
who  possess  these  graces,  and  are,  therefore,  not 
of  the  world,  will,  so  long  as  they  are  in  the  world, 
be  exposed  to  its  hatred.  This  general  truth  is 
first  expressed ;  it  is  immediately  afterwards 
brought  home  to  the  disciples  as  our  Lord,  using 
'  ye '  instead  of  '  they,'  reaffirms  (v.")  the  blessed- 
ness of  His  hearers,  should  they  endure  reproach 
for  His  sake.  If  tliis  interpretation  be  correct, 
there  are  eight  Beatitudes  in  Matthew.  In  the 
first  seven  we  behold  the  several  rainbow  hues  of 
the  light  which  reflects  in  human  conduct  the  glory 
of  the  heaienly  Father  (v.'^)  ;  in  the  eighth  that 
light  is  seen  in  conflict  with  the  darkness  it  is 
destined  to  overcome. 

If  Mt  5'°''-  is  not  counted  as  a  Beatitude,  the 
number  of  perfection — seven — is  obtained.  This 
course  is  followed  by  some  because  the  eighth 
Beatitude  is  not  a  declaration  of  the  blessedness 
of  character,  and  by  others  because  its  promise  of 
the  Kingdom  of  heaven  merely  repeats  what  lia.s 
already  been  said.  Augustine  speaks  of  a  '  heptad 
of  Beatitudes,'  and  regards  the  eighth  as  returning 
upon  the  first  {' octava  tanguam  ad  caput  redit'). 
Bruce  refers  to  the  '  .seven  golden  sentences '  which 
sum  up  the  felicity  of  the  Kingdom,  though  he 
afterwards  enumerates  eight  classes  of  the  blessed 
{The  Training  of  the  Twelve,  p.  42).  AVordsworth 
{in  loc. )  prefers  the  mystical  significance  of  eifjht  to 
similar  interpretations  of  seven  ;  for  if  seven  is  tlie 
number  of  rest  after  labour,  '  eight  is  the  number 
of  blessedness  and  glory  after  rest ' ;  he  also  dwells 
on  the  annexing  of  the  promise  of  the  Kingdom  of 
heaven  to  the  eighth  Beatitude  as  well  as  to  the 


first :  '  Tills  is  the  consummation  of  blessedness ; 
the  recurring  note  of  the  beatific  octave ;  also  in 
the  eightli  Beatitude  the  word  ' '  blessed  "  is  re- 
peated for  the  sake  of  greater  certainty  and 
emphasis.' 

Tliis  repetition  of  the  word  '  blessed '  in  what  is 
here  called  the  eighth  Beatitude  is  the  gi'ound 
assigned  by;  some  for  dividing  it  into  two  Beati- 
tudes. Wright  {Synopsis  of  the  Gosjjels  in  Greek, 
p.  161)  speaks  of  nine  Beatitudes.  In  his  judg- 
ment, however,  the  ninth,  which  is  longer  and  in 
the  second  person,  is  an  'explanatory  enlargement' ; 
lie  is  also  disposed  to  regard  the  eighth  short 
Beatitude  as  '  an  editorial  compilation,  for  the 
second  half  of  it  is  repeated  from  the  first  Beati- 
tude, and  the  commencement  is  an  abbreviation 
of  the  ninth.'  The  so-called  ninth  Beatitude  is 
best  regarded  as  an  enlargement  of  the  eighth, 
but  no  sufficient  reason  is  given  for  rejecting  the 
eighth. 

Delitzsch  is  alone  in  holding  that  there  are  ten 
Beatitudes  in  Mattliew  to  correspond  with  the 
Decalogue.  To  obtain  the  number  ten  he  not 
only  counts  vv.'°  and  "  as  the  eighth  and  ninth 
Beatitudes  respectively,  but  also  treats  v.'-  as  the 
tenth  Beatitude.  The  words  '  rejoice  and  be  ex- 
ceeding glad'  (v.'-)  are  regarded  as  equivalent  to 
'blessed.' 

2.  The  relation  of  the  two  versions.— OiAy  four 
Beatitudes  are  given  in  I>k  6-°"-^  ;  the  relation  of 
these  to  the  eight  Beatitudes  in  Matthew  is  one  of 
the  unsolved  problems  in  NT  criticism.  The  dif- 
ference between  Matthew  and  Luke  is  shown  in 
the  following  table,  the  variations  in  Luke  being 
printed  in  italics  : — 

'  Blessed  are 

1.  '  the  poor  in  spirit :  for  theirs  is  the  kingdom 

of  heaven.' 
{!.)  '  ye  poor  :  for  yours  is  the  kingdom  of  God.' 

2.  '  they  that  mourn  :   for  they  shall   be  com- 

forted.' 
(5.)  '  ye  tluit  weep  now :  for  ye  shall  laugh.' 

3.  '  the  meek  :  for  they  shall  inherit  the  earth.' 

4.  '  they  that  hunger  and  thirst  aft«r  righteous- 

ness :  for  they  shall  be  fiUed.' 
{2.)  'ye  that  hunger  now :  for  ye  shall  be  filled.' 

5.  '  the  merciful :  for  they  shall  obtain  niercv.' 

6.  '  the  pure  in  heart :  for  they  shall  see  God.' 

7.  '  the  peacemakers  :  for  they  shall  be  called 

sons  of  God.' 

8.  '  they  that  have  lieen  persecuted  for  right- 

eousness' sake:   for  theirs  is  the  kingdom 
of  heaven. 

ye  when  men  shall  reproach  you,  and  perse- 
cute you,  and  say  all  manner  of  evil  against 
you  falsely,  for  my  sake, 
liejoice,  and  be  exceeding  glad  :  for  great  is 
your  reward  in  heaven :  for  so  i)ersecuted 
they  the  prophets  which  were  before  you.' 
(4.)  '  ye  when  men  shall  hate  ycni,  and  wlicn  they 
shall  separate  you  front  their  ccmipccny,  and 
reproacn  you,  ana  cast  out  your  name  as 
evil,  for  the  Son  of  Man's  sake. 
Rejoice  in  that  day,  and  leap  for  joy  :  for 
beliold,  your  reward  is  great  in  heaven  : 
for  in  the  same  manner  did  their  fat/iers 
unto  the  prophets. ' 
The  chief  elements  in  the  problem  to  be  solved 
are  :  tlie  presence  in  Matthew  alone  of  Beatitudes 
3,   5,   6,   7  ;    Luke's    variations    from    Matthew's 
wording  of  Beatitudes   1,  2,  4,  8,  especially   (a) 
the  absence  from  1  and  4  of  words  which  make 
blessedness  depend  upon  spiritual  conditions,  and 
{b)  the  use  of  the  second  person  throughout.     This 
uroblem  is  part  of    a  larger    problem,   viz..   Do 
Matthew  and   Luke  reixjrt  the  same  discourse? 
and  if  they  do,  which  account  is  the  more  primi- 
tive t    (See  art.  SERMON  ON  THE  MOUNT). 


BEATITUDE 


BEATITUDE 


179 


The  view  that  Matthew  and  Luke  narrate  two 
different  discourses  is  now  generally  abandoned. 
This  theory  accounts  for  all  the  variations,  but  it 
leaves  unexplained  the  remarkable  resemblances 
in  the  general  purport  of  the  teaching,  the  frequent 
identity  of  phraseology,  and  the  close  agreement 
"f  the  introductory  narratives  and  of  the  closing 
parables.  Therefore,  the  question  to  be  asked  in 
regard  to  the  two  versions  of  tlie  Beatitudes  is 
part  of  the  larger  question  -.  How  is  it  that  in 
two  reports  of  the  same  discourse  there  are  so 
many  variations? 

Some  modern  critics  distinguish  hetwecnpriinartj 
and  secondary  Beatitudes,  though  different  reasons 
are  assigned  in  support  of  this  distinction.  (1) 
Wright  (q/).  cit.)  regards  Beatitudes  1,  2,  4  as 
primary;  they  belong  to  'the  proto-Matthceus,' 
because  they  are  also  found  in  Luke.  The  other 
Beatitudes  have  been  '  added  at  different  dates  as 
recollections  occurred.'  But  the  non-occurrence  of 
a  saying  in  Luke  is  no  i)roof  that  it  is  '  secondary,' 
unless  it  is  certain  that  Luke  is  more  primitive, 
and  not  a  selection  from  the  more  original  tradi- 
tion in  Matthew.  (2)  Weiss  (in  Meyer's  Com,.) 
describes  the  same  three  Beatitudes  as  authentic, 
because  they  noint  to  the  righteousness  of  the 
Kingdom  as  the  summum  bonuni ;  the  first  to 
righteou.sness  as  not  yet  possessed,  the  second  to 
the  want  of  righteousness  as  a  cause  of  sorrow, 
and  the  fourth  to  righteousness  as  an  object  of  de- 
sire The  reasoning  is  entirely  subjective.  Weiss 
tests  the  authenticity  of  a  Beatitude  by  its  accord 
witli  his  theory  that  the  tlieme  of  the  discourse  is 
the  nature  of  true  and  false  righteousness  ;  on  his 
own  principles  other  Beatitudes  might  be  proved 
authentic.  The  seventh  might  be  said  to  point  to 
tlie  righteousness  whose  work  is  peace. 

When  the  nanatives  in  Matthew  and  Luke  are 
taken  as  they  stand,  the  question  remains  :  Which 
version  of  the  Beatitudes  more  correctly  repre- 
sents the  actual  words  of  Christ? 

That  the  shorter  form  in  Luke  is  more  genuine 
is  the  opinion  of  many  scholars.  Dr.  E  A.  Abbott 
thinks  '  it  is  more  probable  that  Luke  represents 
tlie  letter  of  the  original  words  of  Jesus  more 
closely  than  Matthew,  however  niucli  tlie  latter 
may  better  represent  the  spirit  of  them'  [Enc. 
Brit  »  X.  798»).  But  the  words  which  better  repre- 
sent the  spirit  of  the  teaching  may  also  rest  on  the 
authority  of  Jesus.  Though  tiie  two  versions 
represent  the  same  discourse,  the  one  discourse 
may  not  have  been  delivered  with  such  formality 
as  many  theories  ini))ly.  It  is  more  than  probable 
that  the  longer  form  in  Matthew  omits  some  of 
our  Lord's  comments  on  tliese  sayings.  The  dif- 
ferent versions  of  the  eightli  Beatitude  in  Matthew 
iJoint  to  tliis  condu:,ion.  The  declaration  of 
blessedness  having  been  made  in  its  most  general 
fonn,  it  is  then  reaffirmed  and  expounded  in  its 
special  bearing  upon  the  men  to  whom  our  Lonl 
was  speaking.  The  Apostles  will  have  the  pri\i- 
lege  of  bearing  '  the  reproach  of  Christ,'  and  as 
sharers  in  tlie  experience  of  tlie  prophets  they 
shall  receive  the  prophets'  reward  (cf.  He  ll-«). 
Other  Beatitudes  may  in  like  manner  have  been 
restated  in  a  more  specific  form.  For  example,  all 
who  would  enter  the  Kingdom  of  heaven  need  to 
be  told  that  its  blessings  are  bestowed  on  the  poor 
in  spirit ;  but  it  is  to  His  true  disci)iles  and  not 
to  the  multitude  that  Jesus  says,  ■  Ye,  in  your 
poverty,  are  blessed.'  The  argument  for  the 
primitive  character  of  Luke  is  stated  (Expositor, 
5th  series  [1895],  vol.  ii.)  succinctly  and  forcefully 
by  Professor  Adeney.  The  sayings  of  whicli 
Matthew  gives  a  longer  version  than  Luke  are 
described  as  expositions  of  '  the  hidden  truth  con- 
tained in  the  shorter  utterances.'  The  Beatitudes 
peculiar   to   Matthew  are    not    relegated    to    an 


editor,  but  are  held  to  be  the  true  teaching  of 
our  Lord,  though  probably  not  in  their  original 
context.  The  literary  problem  is  complicated  by 
the  absence  from  Matthew  of  the  four  Woes, 
wliich  in  Luke  (6-^"^")  correspond  to  the  four 
Beatitudes.  The  theory  that  Luke  gives  the 
more  primitive  form  involves  the  assumption  that 
Matthew  omitted  the  Woes  and  inserted  an  equal 
number  of  Blessings.  Yet  Wright's  conclusion, 
after  a  thorough  study  of  the  Synoptic  problem, 
is  that  the  Woes  in  Luke  are  either  '  conflated 
from  another  source'  or  'editorial  inversions  of 
the  Blessings.' 

The  theory  that  Matthew  gives  the  Beatitudes 
in  their  more  primitive  form  has  the  support  of 
Tholuck  and  Aleyer  among  older  writers,  and  more 
recently  of  H.  Holtzniann  and  Beyschlag.  On 
the  authority  of  one  who  probably  heard  these 
words  of  Blessing,  the  Beatitudes  peculiar  to 
Matthew  are  regarded  not  only  as  authentic  say- 
ings of  Jesus,  but  also  as  parts  of  the  original 
discourse.  Holtzniann  also  holds  tliat  Luke  modi- 
fied the  language  of  Matthew  in  accordance  with 
his  own  ascetic  views  {Hand-Comm.,  '  Die  Synop.,' 
p.  100)  ;  but  this  supposition  is  not  essential  to 
the  theoi-y.  The  shorter  form  of  some  Beatitudes 
in  Luke  may  faithfully  represent  the  words  of 
Christ,  perhaps  His  own  special  application  of  a 
general  truth  to  His  disciiiles.  Dr.  Bruce,  who 
has  no  bias  in  favour  of  '  antiquated  Harmonistic,' 
suggests  that,  as  a  critical  description  of  Mt  5-7, 
'The  Teaching  on  the  Hill'  is  probably  more 
correct  than  '  The  Sermon  on  the  Mount ' ;  '  teach- 
ing '  {didaxv)  as  distinguished  from  '  preaching ' 
[KTipvy/ia)  implies  both  the  announcement  of  a 
theme  and  its  expansion.  It  follows  that  two 
fonns  of  a  Beatitude  may  be  authentic,  '  the  one 
as  theme,  the  other  as  comment.'  According  to 
this  view,  the  theme  of  the  first  Beatitude  is  given 
in  Luke,  but  in  Matthew  'one  of  the  expansions, 
not  necessarUy  the  only  one.'  It  is  of  little 
moment  whether  the  shorter  form  is  primary, 
i.e.  the  enunciation  of  a  theme  afterwards  ex- 
pounded by  our  Lord  ;  or  secondary,  i.e.  His  own 
narrowing  of  a  general  assertion  previously  made. 
On  either  supposition,  Luke,  '  while  faitlifully  re- 
producing at  least  a  part  of  our  Lord's  teacliing 
on  the  Mil,'  may  state  that  teaching  '  not  in  its 
origins  isetting,  but  reailapted  so  as  to  serve  the 
jn'actical  purpose  of  Christian  instruction'  {Tlw 
Expositur'.'i  Gn;I:  T,sl.,  vol.  i.  pp.  94fl'.,  509). 

3.  Ordrr  „,„l  ..,„„■. don  of  thmccfht.— The  order 
of  the  sec  (111(1  (unl  third  Beatitudes  is  reversed  in 
Codex  Bez;i;  and  the  Vulgate ;  so  also  Clem. 
Alex.,  Aug.,  Orig.,  Eus.,  Greg,  of  Nyssa.  Tholuck 
thinks  that  this  change  from  the  best  authenti- 
cated order  was  made  on  mystical  grounds  ;  either 
because  the  promise  of  tlie  lower  good  should  im- 
mediately follow  that  of  heaven  (Orig.),  or  because 
71}  ie|)resents  mystically  a  higher  stage  of  blessed- 
ness (Creg.  of  Nyssa). 

Ill  the  generally  accepted  order  of  the  Beatitudes 
a  sequence  of  thought  may  be  traced,  though  the 
'  scale  of  grace  and  glory '  is  perhaps  not  so  care- 
fully '  graduated '  as  some  have  supposed  (cf.  Amb. 
on  Lk  6).  Tlie  first  grace — poverty  of  spirit— is  the 
germ  of  all  the  rest ;  the  first  and  last  Beatitude  is 
the  all-comprising  word — '  tli(iirs  is  the  kingdom  of 
heaven.'  The  six  Beatitudes  that  intervene  unfold 
dili'eient  aspects  of  Christian  virtue  and  set  forth 
its  iieculiiir  blessedness,  for  each  blessing  iiromised 
is  the  littiiig  reward  of  the  inward  "race,  and  each 
is  included  in  the  promise  of  the  Kingdom.  Dr. 
Fairbairn  (Studies  in  the  Life  of  Christ)  divides  the 
Beatitudes  into  two  classes—'  those  of  resignation 
and  those  of  hope ' ;  the  first  four  Beatitudes  are 
placed  in  the  former  class,  the  last  four  in  the 
latter  class.     This  division  is  simple,  and  serves  to 


180 


BEAUTY 


BEAUTY 


emphasize  the  distinction  between  the  passive  and 
active  graces  of  the  Christian  character.  Yet  it 
seems  better  to  distinguish  the  eighth  Beatitude 
from  the  other  seven  ;  it  ditt'ers  from  them  essenti- 
ally, for  it  attaches  blessedness  to  endurance  of 
opposition  and  not  to  inward  qualities,  to  conduct 
and  not  to  character,  to  something  a  man  does  and 
not  to  what  he  is.  In  the  seven  Beatitudes  on 
character,  there  are  two  triads.  The  first  three, 
as  Dr.  Dykes  points  out(7'/te  Manifesto  of  the  Kinrj, 
p.  101),  are  closely  connected  and  refer  to  negative 
graces;  in  the  last  three,  positive  graces  are  in- 
timately combined  as  elements  of  righteousness ; 
the  fourth  or  central  Beatitude  is  the  link  between 
these  first  groups.  '  As  the  first  three,  the  trilogy 
of  spiritual  humiliation,  lead  up  to  and  produce 
that  blessed  hunger  after  Divine  righteousness ; 
so  the  second  three,  a  trOogy  of  characteristic 
phristian  graces,  are  the  fulfilment  of  the  soul's 
hunger. ' 

Vn  ith  a  '  proposal  of  the  end — blessedness,'  says 
Jeremy  Taylor,  '  our  excellent  and  gracious  Law- 
giver begins  His  sermon'  (The  Great  Exemplar, 
pt.  2,  sec.  xi.).  Beatitude  is  the  essence  of 
Christianity,  its  beginning  and  end.  Tlie  '  Beati- 
tudes'  reveal  the  nature  of  true  blessedness  and 
the  conditions  of  its  attainment ;  they  reflect  the 
light  which  shines  from  the  Hebrew  Scriptures 
that  declare  the  blessedness  of  the  righteous  ;  but 
they  are  illumined  not  only  by  tlie  Prophets  and 
Psalmists  who  went  before,  but  also  by  tlie 
Apo.stles  and  Teachers  who  come  after.  Wernle 
says  with  true  insight:  'Jesus  Himself  made  of 
Christianity  a  religion  of  hope.  ...  If  Paul  in  a 
later  age  preaches  the  religion  of  longing  in  words 
of  enthralling  eloquence,  he  is  merely  continuing 
in  his  own  language  the  Beatitudes  of  Jesus'  (The 
Beginnings  of  Christianity,  i.  68). 

Literature. — In  addition  to  the  works  nlreadv  quoted,  see 
art.  Sermon  on  the  Mount,  below ;  Hastinijs'  DB,  E.\tra  Vol. 
p.  14  ff. ;  Gore,  Sermon  an  the  Mount ;  Bmce,  (lalikan  Gospel, 
39-72 ;  Leckie,  Life  and  ReligUm,  209-270 ;  Stanlev,  Senn.  to 
CAi'Mreii,  95-131 ;  ilathcson,  Landmarks^/ ST  MnraUtii,  143ff. 

J.  G.  Tasker. 

BEAUTY — Tliis  term  is  applied  alike  to  the 
physical  grace  of  men  and  animals,  to  external 
nature  and  works  of  art,  and  to  moral  character 
and  action.  In  every  relationship  it  is  a  quality 
capable  of  imparting  exquisite  pleasure,  and  a 
power  that  commands  and  captivates.  The  appre- 
ciation of  beauty  for  its  own  intrinsic  charm  was 
a  special  characteristic  of  the  Greeks,  to  wliom  the 
world  was  a  wonder  of  order  and  adajitation,  and 
who  found  an  element  of  Avor.shipin  the  Ijcuuly  tliat 
was  a  prerogative  of  the  gods.  With  the  Israelites, 
and  in  the  East  generally,  beauty  was  esteemed 
rather  as  a  sign  of  dignity  and  noble  birth  (Jg  8'*), 
and  beautiful  things  were  valued  as  the  accessories 
of  official  decoration.  Much  in  the  Gospels  that 
we  feel  to  be  beautiful  and  describe  by  that  name, 
is  there  specialized  by  such  terms  as  'giace,'  'glory,' 
'  excellency,'  as  indicating  in  each  particular  case 
the  arresting  feature  of  charm,  sublimity,  or  pre- 
eminence that  makes  it  beautiful.  Thus  in  the 
appeal,  '  If  God  so  clothe  the  grass  of  the  field ' 
(Lk  12^),  and  in  the  declaration  concerning  the 
lilies  of  tlie  field,  that  Solomon  in  all  his  glory  was 
not  arrayed  like  one  of  them  (v."),  tlie  beauty 
was  due  to  external  investiture  rather  than  to  any 
inherent  fact  of  symmetry  and  proportion.  So 
when  the  merchantman  is  described  as  seeking 
"oodly  pearls  (Mt  13-"),  and  the  righteousness  of 
Christ's  disciples  is  expected  to  exceed  that  of  the 
scribes  and  Pharisees  (Mt  5^),  the  quality  of 
beauty  arises  from  the  surprising  rarity  and  recog- 
nized pre-eminence  of  the  things  referred  to. 

i.  Personal  appearance  of  Christ.  —  Much  has 
been  written  about  the  face  of  Christ.    Tradition, 


gathering  its  data  from  the  apocryphal  '  Letter  of 
Lcntuhis,'  the  jiortrait  which  Jesus  is  said  to  have 
sent  to  kiiiu"  Ali,i;arof  Edes.sa,  the  story  of  Veronica's 
veil,  flic  ]iictuies  and  eikons  of  the  early  and  medi- 
an :il  Churcli,  and  accumulated  literary  traditions, 
has  given  to  Art  its  typical  presentation  of  Christ's 
countenance.  The  subject,  however,  is  one  about 
which  there  is  no  certain  information.  On  the 
mount  of  Transfiguration  the  three  disciples  had  a 
brief  glimpse  of  the  heavenly  beauty  that  then 
shone  out  from  the  face  of  Christ.  But  those  who 
were  then  eye-witnesses  of  His  majesty  (2  P  1'*) 
tell  us  that  the  glorious  vision  surpassed  all  de- 
scription. It  remained  with  them  as  a  restful  and 
inspiring  memory,  like  the  '  unspeakable  words '  of 
St.  Paul's  ecstatic  experience  (2  Co  12*). 

2.  Beauty  in  external  nature. — It  is  profoundly 
suggestive  of  the  reality  of  the  Incarnation  that 
He  by  whom  the  worlds  were  made  spoke  so  little 
about  them.  When  He  called  Himself  and  His 
disciples  '  the  light  of  the  world '  (Jn  8>=,  Mt5"),  the 
allusion  to  light  was  not  in  the  spirit  of  Milton's 
sublime  apostrophe  (P«)'.  Lost,  iii.  Iff.),  but  with 
reference  to  its  conflict  with  darkness.  When  He 
pointed  to  tlie  redness  of  the  evening  sky  (Mt  16=), 
it  w-as  not  to  speak  of  a  Presence  immanent  in  the 
light  of  setting  suns,  but  to  express  the  feeling  of 
wonder  that  those  who  could  draw  a  practical 
lesson  from  something  so  remote  could  not  hear 
the  footsteps  of  moral  destiny  so  close  behind 
themselves.  And  so  in  the  instances  of  the  frail, 
beautiful  grass  and  the  lilies  of  the  field  (Mt  e-*""-), 
the  allusion  served  as  an  argument  for  God's  still 
greater  care  of  things  more  precious. 

3.  Ethical  beautu. — The  life  of  Christ  witnessed 
in  every  detail  to  His  inspiring  and  impressive  per- 
sonality. It  is  surely  a  torso  presentation  of  that 
life  that  would  make  '  sweet  reasonableness '  its 
prevailing  characteristic.  Rather  it  is  marked  by 
the  absence  of  that  philosophic  detachment  that 
would  live  and  let  live.  In  His  mind  truth  took 
precedence  even  of  the  heavenly  hoiie,  and  He 
assured  His  disciples  that  If  that  hope  were  a  sweet 
but  baseless  imagination.  He  would  have  tohl  them 
(Jn  14-).  He  had  come  as  light  into  the  world,  and 
questionings  not  only  of  the  defiant  darkness  (Jn 
1'),  but  of  the  bewildering  twilight  (le"''),  sprang 
up  around  His  path.  In  His  presence  men  were 
greater  and  less  than  they  had  been  before.  Even 
in  the  days  of  His  flesh  those  who  were  Christ's 
were  impelled  to  put  on  Christ,  and  were  after- 
wards recognized  as  having  been  with  Him  (Ac  4'^). 
lie  exeiiiplifitHl  in  His  own  life  the  principle  by 
which  His  disciples  were  to  live  and  extend  His 
kingdom.  His  outward  power  was  the  measure  of 
His  inward  submission.  He  came  not  to  do  His 
own  will  (Jn  6^^*).  It  was  when  He  was  lifted  up 
that  He  would  draw  all  men  unto  Himself  (12'-'). 
Even  so  the  life  of  the  Christian  has  its  condition 
of  complete  and  continuous  surrender,  and  in  the 
service  of  the  gospel  it  is  found  that  men  do  not 
yield  to  the  messenger,  but  to  what  they  see  that 
he  yields  to. 

In  the  course  of  Christ's  life  on  earth,  along  with 
the  general  impression  of  His  teaching  and  mini- 
stry there  were  \arious  incidents  that  showed  in  a 
s])("rial  iiKininT  with  what  tender  sympathy  _Hu 
tiKik  a]i(iii  lliiM  our  nature  and  bore  our  infirmities. 
Ainniiu  ih.sc-  limy  be  mentioned  the  conversation 
with  till-  S:iiiiaiit,"ui  woman  at  Jacob's  well  (Jn  4), 
the  blessing  of  the  little  cliildieu  that  were  almost 
sent  away  (Mt  19""-  l,  tiiu  tuucliing  of  the  leper  in 
the  act  oiE  healing  (Ml  S-),  and  the  words  of  hope 
concerning  Nineveh  (Mt  I--'")  ami  Tyre  (Lk  lO""-), 
and  those  who  should  come  into  the  Kingdom  from 
the  distant  East  and  West  (Mt  8").  On  the  cross 
we  have  the  prayer  for  His  persecutors  (Lk  23**), 
His  comradeship  with  the  penitent  thief  (v.«'-),  and 


BED 


BEELZEBUB  OR  BEELZEBUL  181 


the  commending  of  His  mother  to  the  care  of  the 
disciple  Jolin  (Jn  lO^"'-). 

Also  in  the  lives  of  others,  chiefly  of  Avomen,  He 
met  with  intuitions  and  actions  which  through  His 
affinity  of  soul  were  noticed  and  commended  liy 
Him  as  bearing  the  stami)  of  moral  and  spiritual 
beauty.  Such  were  the  return  of  the  Samaritan 
leper  to  give  glory  to  God  (Lk  l?'™) ;  the  humble 
insistency  of  tlie  Syro-Phoenician  woman  (Mk  T"^"-); 
the  courage  and  consecration  of  the  widow  who 
gave  her  mites  to  the  Lord  {12*^''') ;  the  act  of  the 
sinful  woman  who  bathed  His  feet  with  her  tears 
(Lk  7^^),  and  of  her  also  who  unsealed,  as  for  His 
burial,  the  alabaster  vase  of  precious  ointment 
(Jn  12'). 

AVith  regard  to  things  jjliysically  and  morally 
loathsome,  on  the  other  hand,  the  disease  of  leprosy 
(Mt  S'',  Lk  7'-  17'^)  and  the  affliction  of  demoniac 
possession  (Mt  ff'*-,  Mk  7-^  Lk  8^'  etc.)  could  always 
claim  His  healing  power ;  there  was  discriminating 
pity  towards  those  who  had  sinned  in  ignorance 
(Lk  23^^),  or  who  had  been  overcome  by  some  swift 
arid  overmastering  temptation  (Mt  26*S  Lk  7",  Jn 
416  21'*),  or  by  the  difficulties  of  outward  circum- 
stance (Mk  10-"-,  Lk  13^) ;  while  in  .sharp  contrast 
with  the  above,  there  was  His  denunciation  by 
descriptive  parable  and  stern  rebuke  of  the  hope- 
less oiiensiveness  of  the  Pharisaic  type  (Mt  21""  23, 
Lk  20"  etc.). 


S.°i')i 


LiTEEATnRE.^-Under  (y  Hauck-Herzog,  PRE,  art.  'Christus- 

Tzog.j "■    ■  ■ 

Farrar,  Chi 


Teaching  of  Jems,  i.  151  ff.;  Expositor,  3rd  ser.  ii.  [1 
Underl(3)  Liddon,  Bampton  Lectures^  p.  192 ff.;   Channing, 
Complete  Works  [18S4],  pp.  237-243.  G.  M.  MaCKIE. 

BED.— The  word  'bed'  {Mfv,  KpajSfiaros,  koItti) 
is  found  in  the  Gospels  only  in  Mt  9--^,  Mk  2*"'- 
421  7**,  Lk  5'8  8'=  11'  17=^^  Jn  G""'-.  There  is  little 
here  to  indicate  the  kind  of  bed,  or  beds,  that  were 
in  use  among  the  Hebrews  in  the  time  of  Christ. 
Among  the  ancient  Hebrews,  however,  as  among 
other  Oriental  peoples  of  that  day,  the  bed  usually 
consisted  of  a  wadded  quilt,  or  thin  mattress,  to  be 
used,  according  to  the  season,  or  the  condition  of 
the  owner,  with  or  without  covering  (cf.  Ex  22-' 
'  For  that  [the  outer  garment  worn  in  the  daytime] 
is  his  only  covering  :  it  is  his  garment  for  his  skin  : 
wherein  shall  he  sleep  ? ').  The  very  poor  often 
made  their  bed  of  the  skins  of  animals,  old  cloaks 
or  rugs,  or  slept  in  their  ordinary  clothing  on  the 
bare  ground  floor,  as  they  do  to-day  in  the  East. 

The  bedding  ordinarily  in  use  among  Orientals 
now  is,  doubtless,  much  the  same  as  it  was  in  Christ's 
day  :  a  mat  made  of  rushes  or  straw  to  be  laid 
down  first  ;  sheep  or  goat  skins,  or  a  quilt  stuffed 
with  hair  or  vegetable  fibre,  or  both,  to  lie  upon  ; 
and  a  covering  consisting  often  only  of  the  '  cloak,' 
or  outer  garment,  of  the  poor  man,  but  sometimes 
in  summer  of  some  light  stuti'  in  addition,  or  in 
winter  of  skins,  or  some  heavier  quilted  stuff. 

Various  allusions  are  made  in  the  Gospels  to  beds 
that  could  be  carried  -.  '  Arise,  take  up  thy  bed,  and 
go  unto  thine  house'  (Mt  y") ;  '  Rise,  take  up  thy 
bed,  and  walk  '  ;  '  And  immediately  the  man  .  .  . 
took  up  his  bed,  and  walked '  (Jn  S^-  «)  ;  '  Behold 
men  bringing  on  a  bed  a  man  that  was  palsied' 
(Lk  5'8  KV).  St.  Luke  and  St.  Mark  tell  us  that  on 
this  occasion,  when,  because  of  the  crowd  in  the 
house,  the  four  men  could  not  reach  Jesus  with  the 
paralytic,  they  took  him  up  on  the  house-top, 
broke  through  the  roof,  and  '  let  him  down  through 
the  tiling  with  f/ie  couch  (K\ivlSiov  ;  in  v.'",  however, 
the  word  Mn-q,  'bed,'  is  used)  into  the  midst  before 
Jesus'  (Lk  C"),  or,  as  St.  Mark  puts  it,  'let  down 
the  bed  (KpilifiaToi)  wherein  the  sick  of  the  palsy 
lay '  (2*). 

For  ordinary  use  at  night  the  bed  was  laid  on 
the  floor,  generally  on  tlie  mat,  which  served  to 


keep  it  off  the  ground,  frequently  on  a  light 
portable  frame  of  wood  which  served  a  like  pur- 
pose :  but  sometimes  on  a  more  elevated  bedstead 
('  under  the  bed,'  Mk  4^1  RV).  In  the  morning  the 
bedding  was  all  rolled  up,  and,  after  being  aired 
and  sunned,  was  put  aside  on  the  raised  platform, 
or  packed  away  for  the  day  in  a  chest  or  closet.  A 
bedstead  of  any  pretensions  was  rare  among  the 
Hebrew.s,  and  was  looked  upon  as  a  luxury  ;  the 
nearest  approach  to  it  being  in  general  the  raised 
platform  on  the  side  of  the  room.  The  richness  of 
beds  and  of  bedsteads  among  some  of  the  Asiatic 
peoples,  however,  was  at  least  equal  to  that  of  the 
Greeks  and  Roman.?  (cf .  Pr  7'"-  ^',  1  S  28^^).  The 
degree  of  richness  would  depend,  of  course,  upon 
the  wealth  of  the  family  and  the  style  of  the  house 
or  tent,  as  it  does  to-day  among  the  Bedawin. 

Usually  a  room  was  set  apart  as  a  bedroom, 
where  the  whole  family  slept.  '  My  children  are 
with  me  in  bed,  I  cannot  rise  and  give  thee '  (LJc 
IP'*).  Among  the  poorest  a  portion  of  the  single 
room  occupied  by  the  family  was  set  apart  for 
sleeping,  and,  generally,  this  was  raised  above  the 
level  of  the  floor.  When  the  house  was  of  two 
storeys,  the  beds  were  laid  in  one  of  the  rooms  of 
the  upper  storey,  or,  during  the  summer,  prefer- 
ably, on  the  fiat  roof.  See,  further,  art.  Couch. 
Geo.  B.  Eager. 

BEELZEBUB  or  BEELZEBUL It  is  strange 

that  this  name  has  never  yet  been  satisfactorily 
explained ;  stranger  still  that  no  trace  of  it  has 
been  found  as  yet  among  the  scores  of  Jewish 
names  for  angels  and  spirits.  The  first  part  of  the 
name  is  clear  enough ;  it  is  the  Aramaic  form  of 
the  Hebrew  '  Basil ' ;  nor  is  there  anything  strange 
in  the  dropping  of  X  before  f  in  the  MSS  followed 
by  modern  editors  like  "Westcott-Hort  and  Weiss 
[Cheyne  in  his  art.  '  Beelzebul '  in  the  Encyc.  Bibl. 
finds  'this  scepticism  as  to  X  in  ^ee\  paradoxical,' 
'  the  word  /Seefe^ouX  inexplicable  and  hardly  pro- 
nounceable,' and  urges  against  it  'the  famous 
passage  Mt  lO-'*,  where  the  olKoSeairbTrji  implies 
the  speaker's  consciousness  that  Vji?  is  one  element 
in  the  title,'  but  his  objection  completely  misses 
the  mark.  The  dropping  of  the  X  is  merely  pho- 
netical ;  cf.  in  Josephus  pe^iSeX  in  codd.  MVK(J  for 
fSe\i(SeK  (BJ  iii.  25),  Bdfupos  for  BoX^fwpos  (c.  Apion. 
i.  124),  Ba^cKppdfiis  for  Bap^a<pp.  (Ant.  xiv.  .SSO) ; 
'A^e<rd5  in  Cod.  Q  of  Un  1"  [Theod.]  for  'kixe\aAS  ; 
'  Philadephia '  in  the  Syriac  Version  of  Euseb.  's 
HE,  etc.*  More  difiicult  is  the  change  of  /i  into  X 
at  the  end  of  the  word,  supposing  the  common  ex- 
planation to  be  correct,  that  the  name  comes  from 
2  K  1-.  It  has  been  explained  as  an  intentional 
cacophonic  corruption  ( = '  god  of  the  dung ')  or  a 
dialectical  or  phonetic   variation   (cf.   Beliar  for 


Bella/  or  Bab  el-Mande/  for  Mandei).  The  spelling 
with  b  was  retained  in  the  NT  by  Luther,  though 
his  Greek  text  had  X,  and  by  RV  in  text ;  it  was 


introduced  by  Jerome  in  the  Vulgate,  see  the  Index 
of  Wordsworth-White,  where  15  Latin  spellings  of 
the  name  are  given,  and  cf.  Jerome's  remark  in 
OS  66,  11  :  'in  fine  ergo  nominis  b  litera  legenda 
est,  non  1 ;  musca  enim  zcbiib  vocatur.'  X  is  even 
found  in  Cod.  243  of  the  text  of  Symmachus  in 
2  K  1- ;  but  see  the  Syriac  Hexapla  in  v.'*,  and 
note,  what  has  generally  been  overlooked,  thai 
the  Septuagint  took  nni  not  ant  bv^  for  the  name 
of  the  god  of  Ekron  :  iin^rjTrjaat  iv  rrj  BdaX  (dative) 
'ilvtav  (accusative)  eebv'A-KKapwv  ;  likewise  Jos.:  vpbi 
Ty)v  'AKKapojv  debv  Mi'^a**,  tovto  yap  tjv  ovo/xa  tu)  tfeu:. 

On  the/w  in  worship  and  legend  see  Plin.  HN 
X.  28.  75 ;  Pausan.  Descr.  Gr.  v.  xiv.  1  ;  .Elian, 
Nat.  Anim.  v.  17,  xi.  8;  Usener,  Gottcrnamen, 
p.  260.  There  were  Jewish  legends  about  flies, 
such  as  that  there  were  none  in  the  temple  (Aboth 

'  The  best  analogy  is  the  Syr.  name  |-DB'y3-|3,  'son  of  the  Bel 
of  heaven,'  explained  by  Barheb.  as  '  he  with  four  namei.' 


182 


BEGETTING 


BEGETTING 


V.  8) ;  Eliaha  was  recognized  as  a  prophet  by  tlie 
woman  of  Sluinem,  because  no  fly  crept  over  his 
place  at  the  table  {Berakh.  lOi) ;  on  the  yezcr 
ha-rd  as  a  fly  see  Berakh.  61rt,  Targ.  Jer.  on  Ec 
10').  The  supposition  that  the  name  corresponds 
to  Aramaic  i<33iSj;3= 'enemy'  is  not  very  likely, 
nor  tlie  other  that  it  is  the  Baal  of  the  heavenly 
mansion  who  became  tlie  Baal  of  the  nether  world 
(JAS,  1878,  pp.  220-221).  Later  Jews  identified 
'BaaX-zebub  with  'QaaX-berith,  and  told  that  some 
would  cari-y  an  image  of  him  (in  the  shape  of  a  fly) 
in  their  pockets,  producing  it  and  kissing  it  from 
time  to  time  {S/iab.  836.  636).  Procopius  states 
{ad  2  K  l)j  tXtiv  fffTi  fw.Be'iii  ej  wu  Euffi^ios  iv  dpxS  '■^s 
Ei)a77e\i».-^5  npoTropcKTKfif^s  iK  tuv  <Pi\uvos  TapaTiderai., 
lis  dalfiwv  fjv,  oi'Tu  Xcydficvof  /jmWop  Si  yvi/ri  TraXaid 
Tis,  -^i-  i6covoir]aai'.  Zahii  (on  Mt  12''')  lays  stress 
on  the  fact  that  the  article  is  missing  before 
dpxoyTi  tGiv  Saifidvuv  {'a  prince  of  the  devils,  not 
the  prince');  but  the  definite  article  is  found  in 
Mark  and  Luke,  and  in  Mt  9**  (if  this  verse  be 
not  a  later  addition)  where  several  Latin  docu- 
ments have  the  name. 

How  scanty  is  our  knowledge  of  NT  times,  when 
such  a  name,  which  appears  tiuite  popular  in  the 
NT,  defies  as  yet  all  explanation,  and  is  not  found 
anywhere  else  !  Origen  on  John  xix.  (p.  315,  ed. 
Preuschen)  remarks :  iravTm  yap  wepl  &ai.ij.6iruv  n 
lunae-fiKeiirav  Kai  toO  ipxovTOi  aiirCiv,  4>  Svofna  BceX- 
fe/SoiJX'  Tovro  3^   ou  ttoi'I/  n  iv  tois  (pepofji^voi!  Ketrvn 

Literature.— In  addition  to  works  cited  above,  see  A.  Loisy, 
'  Beelzeboul '  (liec.  d'/tist.  et  de  lit.  ret.  1904,  v.  434-466). 

Eb.  Nestle. 
BEGETTING.- 

The  idea  of  begetting,  as  applied  in  tlic  natural  or  in  a  meta- 
phorical or  spiritual  sense,  is  expressed  in  the  Gospels  bv  the 
common  words  yiwxa,,  'to  beget'  (which  occurs  in  the  LX.X  as 
the  equivalent  of  the  Heb.  t^;,  meaning  either  *  to  beget '  or 
•to  bear,'  and  is  similarly  used  in  the  N'T);  ysyvT-rc,  properly 
'  begotten,'  but  which,  like  the  verb,  is  .-ilso  found  in  the  sense 
of  '  born ' ;  fa>eyi,r.s, '  only -begotten.'  Tlie  coninion  word  5-t.>a<i/. 
with  its  derivatives,  is,  as  might  be  expected,  used  to  express 
natural  begetting  and  natural  birth.  So  fcs^cys.r..-,  used  in  the 
Fourth  Gospel  only  of  the  relation  of  Christ  to  God  the  Father, 
occurs  in  Lk  71-  of  the  son  of  the  widow  of  Nain,  meaning 
simply  •  only  son  '  (cf.  b--  Jairus'  daughter,  and  938  the  demoniac 
boy);  and  j-l.^tk  in  the  sense  of  'born'  in  Mt  11",  Lk  ?28 
('among  those  that  are  born  of  women").  In  Matthew  and 
Luke  again,  t«  -/i.vr«<>  and  ri  yi„u/^!,cy  are  used  to  describe  tlie 
miraculous  conception  of  our  Lord  in  the  womb  of  the  ^'irgin 
Mary ;  Mt  I'-O  has  '  that  which  is  conceived  in  her  (AVm  '  be- 
gotten ')  is  of  the  Holy  Ghost,'  and  Lk  1^5  '  that  which  shall  be 
born  of  thee  (RVm  '  is  begotten  ')  shall  be  called  the  Son  of  God.' 
In  both  cases  obviously  the  exj 
•  which  is  begotten '  or  '  which 
ordinary  sense  in  which  the  verb  is  known 

The  Messianic  and  the  spiritual  uses  of  the 
words  for  begetting  are  those  which  alone  call  for 
remark  in  connexion  with  the  Gospels  and  the  NT 
generally.  In  the  Gospels,  and  tliere  particularly 
in  the  Gospel  of  John,  we  find  them  applied  to 
Christ  and  His  relation  to  God  the  Father,  and, 
in  connexion  A\-itli  that  reference,  to  the  case  of 
believers  who,  receiving  Christ  by  faith,  are,  in 
virtue  of  the  new  principle  of  life  thus  imparted  to 
them,  born  again,  Ijeconie  children  of  God.  This 
latter  thought  is  suggested  in  the  Gospels,  and 
dwelt  upon  at  len^h  in  the  Epistles. 

We  may  regard  as  the  locus  classicus  of  the 
theological  or  sjjiritual  application  of  the  idea  of 
begetting,  as  we  find  it  in  the  Gospels,  the  well- 
known  passage  in  the  Prologue  to  the  Fourth 
Gospel :  '  No  man  hath  seen  God  at  any  time  ;  the 
only-begotten  Son  (o  fiovoyevijs  vl6s),'  wlio  i.s  in  the 
bosom  of  the  Father,  he  hath  declared  him  '  (Jn  1'"). 
Here  the  use  of  the  term  fiovoyev-qt  in  this  connexion 
at  once  raises  the  question  as  to  the  precise  .sense 
in  which  it  is  applied  to  Clirist,  whether  it  refers 
to  His  being  by  Divine  nature  and  essence  .Sou  of 
God,  or  merely  to  His  manifestation  in  time  as 

"  WH  read  miyiyl.ii;  Oli!,  following  ICBCL. 


Messiah,  as  one  specially  chosen  to  reveal  to  man- 
kind the  will  of  the  invisible  God.  A  little  study 
of  tlie  history  of  the  term  '  only- begotten '  shows 
that  it  is  by  no  means  peculiar  to  the  Gospels,  but 
is  rather  a  familiar  Messianic  term,  which  depends, 
for  a  clear  understanding  of  the  thoughts  denoted 
and  connoted  by  it,  upon  what,  we  may  gather 
from  other  sources,  was  the  national  belief  as  to 
God's  self-revelation  in  the  history  of  grace.  We 
are  reminded,  for  instance,  that  Israel  (Ex  4-,  Hos 
1""),  the  kings  of  Israel  (1  Ch  28"),  and  the  Messiah 
(Ps  2^),  of  whom  the  latter  were  types,  were  suc- 
cessively called  sons  of  God,  or  God's  firstborn. 
Again,  St.  Paul  (in  Ac  13^^)  and  the  Epistle  to  the 
Hebrews  (1'  5°)  quote  Ps  2'  as  a  Messianic  pro- 
phecy which  had  been  fulfilled  in  the  mission  of 
Jesus :  '  Thou  art  my  Son ;  this  day  have  I  be- 
gotten thee '  (arifj.epov  ytyiw-qni.  ce). 

In  view  of  this  Messianic,  spiritual  application  of 
the  idea  referred  to,  the  words  of  Ps  2^  have  been 
supposed  to  allude  to  some  typical  king  like  David 
or  Solomon,  and  the  expression,  '  Thou  art  my  Son, 
this  day  have  I  begotten  thee,'  to  denote  an  act 
performed  by  God  on  the  person  addressed,  as  by 
constituting  him  king.  He  had  moulded  his  life 
afresh  and  set  him  in  a  special  relation  to  Himself. 
Applied  to  Christ,  this  might  be  taken  as  re- 
ferring to  such  an  event  as  the  Resurrection, 
with  reference  to  which  St.  Paul  says  in  Ro  I'' 
that  by  it  God  '  declared  him  to  be  the  Son  of  God 
with  power.'  This  might  be  accepted  as  a  fairly 
adequate  account  of  the  Messianic  ideas  held  by 
the  early  disciples,  and  of  the  interpretation  which 
they  were  likely  to  put  upon  the  passage  in  the 
Second  Psalm,  when  they  studied  it,  as  St.  Paul  did, 
by  the  light  of  the  Resurrection  of  Jesus.  They 
must  have  been  largely  influenced  by  traditional 
opinions  on  the  subject  of  the  Messiah,  and  would 
therefore  interpret  the  words,  '  Tliis  day  have  I 
begotten  thee,'  as  referring  not  to  any  event  in  a 
past  eternity  or  to  any  period  prior  to  the  Incar- 
nation of  the  Son  of  God,  but  to  some  definite 
point  in  the  history  of  His  manifestation  to  the 
world,  as,  for  example,  to  tlie  period  of  the  birth 
of  Jesus,  or  of  the  Baptism,  when  the  voice  from 
heaven  declared  Him  to  be  God's  Beloved  Son,  or, 
as  St.  Paul  appears  to  teacli  in  liis  discourse  in 
Acts  (13**)  and  in  his  EpLstle  to  the  Romans,  to 
the  period  of  the  Resurrection. 

Such  an  interpretation,  however,  of  the  passage 
referred  to  as  we  find  in  the  teachings  of  St.  Paul 
and  of  the  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews,  does  not  ade- 
quately explain  the  language  of  the  Fourth  Gospel 
or  the  author's  allusions  to  the  pre-existence  of 
Christ  as  Logos,  and  to  His  relation  to  the  Father 
as  the  Only-begotten  Son.  The  Evangelist  speaks 
in  such  a  way  of  the  nature  and  mission  of  the  Logos 
or  the  Son  of  God  as  plainly  to  assume  the  eternal 
pre-existence  of  that  Logos  or  Son.  When  John, 
speaking  for  himself,  says  in  the  Prologue  (1"), 
'  The  Word  was  made  flesh,  and  dwelt  among  us, 
and  we  beheld  his  glory,  the  glory  as  of  the  only- 
begotten  of  the  Father,'  the  subject  of  the  sentence 
is  He  of  whom  he  has  just  spoken  as  having  been 
in  the  beginning  with  God,  and  as  having  been 
God's  agent  in  the  work  of  Creation.  Again,  in 
v.>»  '  No  man  hath  seen  God  at  any  time  ;  the  only- 
begotten  Son,  which  is  in  the  bosom  of  the  Father, 
he  hath  declared  him,'  the  expression  '  which  is 
in  the  bosom  of  the  Father '  is  apparently  meant 
for  a  further  explanation  or  definition  of  the  ex- 
pression '  only -begotten  Son,'  the  present  participle 
6  iiv  signifying,  as  Al ford  puts  it,  '  essential  truth 
without  any  particular  regard  to  time,'  while  the 
peculiar  construction  eh  rbv  KdXiroy,  literally  '  into  ' 
not '  in '  '  the  bosom '  (as  might  have  been  expected 
— ^f  Tifi  kAXitv),  is,  as  that  commentator  again  points 
out,  'a  pregnant  con.structioii,  involving  the  beget- 


BEGETTING 


BEGETTING 


ting  of  the  Son  and  His  being  the  X670!  of  the 
Father, — His  proceeding  forth  from  God.'  '  It  is  a 
similar  expression  on  tlie  side  of  His  Unity  with 
the  Father  to  (lid  irapa.  toD  0eov  on  the  side  of  His 
manifestation  to  men.'  Tlie  meaning  of  the  pas- 
sage is  that  Clirist,  wlio  is  by  nature  the  Son  of 
God,  begotten  before  all  worlds,  is  He  who  alone 
could  and  did  declare  the  nature  and  the  will  of 
that  God  whom  no  man  hath  seen  or  coula  have 
known  apart  from  such  a  revelation.  Here  it  is 
evident  that  the  begetting  referred  to  by  the  use 
of  the  word  'only-begotten'  (ixavoyevq^)  is  different 
from  that  which  is  spoken  of  in  the  Second  Psalm. 

Again,  in  His  discourse  to  Nicodemus,  Jesus 
Himself  alludes  clearly  to  His  pre-existence  and 
essential  Sonship  when  He  says  that  God  'gave 
his  only-begotten  Son,  that  whosoever  believeth 
in  him  should  not  perish,  but  have  everlasting  life' ; 
and  in  the  next  sentence  it  is  added,  '  For  God 
sent  not  his  Son  into  the  world  to  condemn  the 
world '  (Jn  S'"-  ").  There  the  words  '  gave '  and 
'  sent '  imply  pre-existence  on  the  part  of  the  Son. 
Similar  references  occur  elsewhere  in  the  discourses 
of  Jesus  as  recorded  in  the  Fourth  Gospel,  for 
example,  that  of  Jn  6*"  '  Not  that  any  man  hath 
seen  the  Father,  save  he  which  is  of  God  (lit.  '  from 
God,'  TTopo  ToC  0eov),  he  hath  seen  the  Father,'  with 
which  cf.  v.^  '  I  came  down  from  heaven,'  and  v.^'- 
'  What  and  if  ye  shall  see  the  Son  of  Man  ascend 
up  where  he  was  before  ? '  passages  which,  as  H. 
Holtzmann  points  out,  '  connect  the  historic  with 
the  preter-historic  being  of  the  pre-existent  Logos 
— the  Son  of  God,  that  is,  in  the  theological,  not 
the  Messianic  sense.' 

A  comparison  of  these  passages  in  the  Fourth 
Gospel  with  Ps  2'  shows  that  the  thought  of  '  be- 
getting,' as  it  affects  the  relations  between  the 
Father  and  the  Son,  has  more  than  one  meaning. 
Dorner  notes  even  in  the  Synoptic  Gospels  three 
senses  in  which  it  is  applied  —  the  physical,  the 
ethical,  and  the  official.  If  we  extend  our  view 
so  as  to  include  the  Fourth  Gospel,  a  similar  divi- 
sion suggests  itself:  the  theological,  or,  as  it  is 
sometimes  called,  the  metaphysical ;  the  official  or 
Messianic ;  and  the  ethical  or  spiritual.  Jesus 
as  Logos  is  Son  of  God  by  nature.  Essential  Son- 
ship,  eternal  generation,  is  predicated  of  Him. 
Then,  in  a  special  official  sense.  His  setting  apart 
to  the  Messianic  office  is,  according  to  a  familiar 
Scripture  figure  (cf.  Ps  2'),  regarded  as  '  a  beget- 
ting,' that  is,  the  inauguration  of  a  new  vocation 
or  a  new  order  of  things.  This  notion  of  beget- 
ting is  practically  the  idea  conveyed  by  the  word 
'Messiah'  or  'Christ'  itself,  and  by  what  Jesus 
Himself  says,  according  to  Jn  10"^  '  Say  ye  of  him, 
whom  the  Father  hath  sanctified,  and  sent  into  the 
world.  Thou  blasphemest;  because  I  said,  I  am  the 
Son  of  God?'  Lastly,  the  thought  of  begetting 
is  applied  in  the  sense  of  a  Divine  conmiunication 
of  life,  as  when  the  Spirit  of  God  descended  and 
abode  upon  Christ.  Thus  when  the  Baptist  saw 
the  sign,  the  dove  from  heaven  alighting  upon 
Jesus,  he  tells  us,  '  And  I  saw,  and  bare  record  that 
this  is  the  Son  of  God '  (Jn  1^).  This  third  aspect 
is  important  as  illustrating  the  point  of  connexion 
between  the  Sonship  of  Christ  and  that  of  believers, 
the  Divine  Sonship  based  on  a  generation,  that 
is,  a  Divine  communication  of  life.  Each  of  these 
aspects  has  its  own  significance. 

1.  The  theological  is  associated  with  the  apologetic 
aim  of  the  Fourth  Gospel.  It  was  an  important 
part  of  the  object  of  the  Evangelist  to  enable  the 
Church  to  rid  herself  of  the  influence  of  the  mis- 
chievous speculations  of  the  time,  of  a  humani- 
tarian Ebionism  on  the  one  side,  and  of  Gnosticism 
on  the  other.  That  Jesus  is  God  from  the  begin- 
ning,—eternally  God, — was  his  answer  to  those 
who   would  detract   from  the  Divine  dignity   of 


Jesus.  Again,  by  his  doctrine  of  Sonship,  the 
application  of  the  thought  of  generation  to  the 
relation  of  God  the  Father  to  Christ  the  Son,  St. 
John  gave  a  new  meaning  to  the  expression 
'Logos,'  which  represented  a  well-known  philo- 
sophical conception  long  current  in  the  East  and 
among  the  later  Platonists  and  Stoics,  while  the 
speculations  of  Philo  and  the  Alexandrian  School 
had  brought  it  into  still  greater  prominence. 
According  to  the  Fourth  Gospel,  Christ  as  Logos 
is  the  Revealer  of  the  Father,  not  as  Philo  and 
others  imagined,  as  being  an  '  emanation,'  an  out- 
flow from  the  Inaccessible  Deity,  a  shadowy 
existence  to  be  described  only  by  analogies  and 
metaphors,  or  by  mere  negations,  but  as  being 
the  Son  of  God,  who  shared  the  Divine  nature 
and  glory.  One  who  came  at  the  Father's  bidding 
to  do  the  Father's  will.  What  that  mysterious 
'  begetting '  meant,  in  virtue  of  which  the  Son  of 
God  was  Son  of  God,  John  did  not  attempt  to 
explain.  To  him  it  was  a  Divine  mystery  which 
3  could  penetrate.  It  was  enough  for  him  that 
God  so  loved  the  world  as  to  send  forth  His  Son, 
sharer  of  His  Divine  nature,  for  that  world's  sal- 
vation. Thus,  according  to  the  testimony  of  St. 
John,  Jesus  '  is  i/.ovoyo'rjs,  the  Only  -  begotten,  as 
Logos ;  He  appears  as  fiovo-yep-Zis  through  the  In- 
carnation '  (Beyschlag). 

2.  Again,  in  all  four  Gospels  the  idea  of  beget- 
ting is  applied  in  an  official  or  Messianic  sense  in 
connexion  with  Christ's  actual  appearing  among 
men  and  with  His  redemptive  mission.  The  three 
Synoptists  record  the  Divine  proclamation  with 
which,  at  the  Baptism,  the  first  stage  of  Christ's 
ministry  was  solemnly  inaugurated :  '  This  is  my 
beloved  Son,  in  whom  I  am  well  pleased  '  (Mt  3"  ||). 
The  same  Evangelists  testify  to  the  events  of  the 
Transfiguration,  when  again  the  voice  from  heaven 
addressed  the  disciples  in  similar  language,  as  if  to 
inaugurate  the  final  stage  of  Christ's  ministry 
(Mt  17'  II).  In  the  latter  case  the  addition  of  the 
words  'hear  ye  him'  to  the  original  form  of  the 
Divine  testimony  would  naturally  suggest  to  per- 
sons familiar,  as  the  disciples  probably  were,  with 
the  current  Messianic  interpretation  of  Ps  2',  the 
thought  of  the  Divine  decree  there  spoken  of, 
which  constituted  the  subject  of  the  prophecy 
King  of  God's  people,  having  a  Divine  right  to 
their  loyalty  and  obedience.  In  the  Fourth  Gospel 
this  official  aspect  of  the  idea  of  begetting  in  con- 
nexion with  Christ  is  expressed  in  those  passages 
in  which  Jesus  speaks  of  Himself  as  One  sent  of 
God,  and  by  that  mission  brought  into  a  new  rela- 
tion to  God  and  to  mankind.  That  'sanctifica- 
tion  '  and  that  'sending'  of  which  He  speaks  (10^") 
correspond  to  the  begetting  referred  to  by  the 
Psalmist,  though  in  this  case  they  point  to  the 
Incarnation,  and  not,  as  in  Ro  1^,  to  the  Resurrec- 
tion. In  illustration  of  this  we  may  compare  with 
the  passages  already  quoted  in  another  connexion 
(Jn  3"  6**-*^-^")  such  utterances  as  these:  'I  pro- 
ceeded and  came  forth  from  God  ;  neither  came  I 
of  myself,  but  he  sent  me '  (8^-)  ;  '  Ye  have  believed 
that  I  came  out  from  God  ...  I  came  forth  from 
the  Father,  and  am  come  into  the  world'  (16^"*). 
'  Sending  forth '  and  '  coming  forth '  appear,  accord- 
ing to  the  Fourth  Gospel,  to  have  been  favourite 
expressions  in  the  mouth  of  Jesus  with  which  to 
describe  His  Messianic  commission,  and  that  act 
of  Divine  grace  which  was,  as  it  were,  the  genesis 
of  the  New  Dispensation— the  reign  of  '  grace  and 
truth '  inaugurated  bjf  Christ  as  Messiah ;  as  St. 
John  himself  laid  special  stress  upon  the  Incarna- 
tion of  the  Logos  as  an  event  which  meant  the 
manifestation  of  that  'life'  (1^)  which  'was  the 
light  of  men.'  The  thought  is  the  same.  The 
idea— coming  from  heaven,  being  sent  of  God— is 
practically  identical  with  that  of  '  became  flesh,' 


184 


BEGGAR 


BELIEF 


In  this  Messianic  sense,  tlien,  tlie  tliought  of '  beget- 
ting' may  fitly  apply  to  the  beginning  of  Christ's 
manifestation  in  liistory. 

3.  The  third  aspectis  the  spiritual  or  ethical. 
In  Christ,  as  the  Only-begotten,  the  proofs  of  the 
Divine  Sonship  are  found  in  His  absolute  sinless- 
ness  (Jn  S-"*),  in  that  He  did  ahvay  those  tilings 
■which  pleased  God  (S--');  that  there  was  perfect  har- 
mony between  Christ  and  the  Father  in  all  things, 
in  willing  and  in  working,  and  in  the  fact  that  Jesus 
was  habitually  conscious  of  the  Father's  presence, 
so  that  during  the  season  of  His  sorest  trial,  when 
He  was  deserted  by  His  disciples,  He  was  '  not 
alone,  for  the  Father  was  with  him  '  ( Jn  16^°).  This 
aspect  of  the  doctrine  of  the  DiN-ine  Sonship  of 
Jesus  is  of  gi-eat  interest  and  importance  in  con- 
nexion with  the  idea  of  '  begetting,'  being  the 
point  at  which  the  doctrine  of  the  sonship  of  be- 
lievers is  linked  on  to  that  of  the  Sonship  of  Christ 
Himself.  It  is  in  this  connexion  that  St.  John 
introduces  at  once  the  conception  of  Christ  as  the 
Word  made  flesh,  and  that  of  the  regeneration  of 
believers.  The  two  thoughts  are  indeed,  in  the 
Prologue  and  elsewhere,  so  closely  related  that  the 
one  almost  imperceptibly  shades  off  into  tlie  other. 
Thus  (!'-)  we  read,  'As  many  as  received  him,  to 
them  gave  he  power  to  become  the  sons  of  God ' ; 
(y  13)  '\vhich  were  born,  not  of  blood,  nor  of  the 
will  of  the  flesh,  nor  of  the  will  of  man,  but  of 
God.'  At  this  point  the  Evangelist  proceeds  at 
once  to  state  the  doctrine  of  the  Incarnation  of 
the  Divine  Logos.  As  has  been  remarked,  '  the 
subject  of  the  fiovoyev/j$  is  introduced  onlv  after  we 
have  learned  what  is  involved  in  the  tliought  of 
believers  becoming  children  of  God.'  The  same 
idea  of  the  relation  between  the  Divine  descent 
of  Christ,  the  Only-begotten  of  the  Father,  and 
the  sonship  of  believers,  is  noted  and  emphasized 
in  the  First  Epistle  of  John  (in  which  tlie  teaeli- 
ing  of  John's  Gospel  on  this  subject  is  worked  out 
in  greater  detail),  as  when  we  read,  '  If  ye  know 
that  he  is  righteous,  ye  know  that  every  one  that 
doeth  righteousness  is  born  of  him  '  (1  Jn  2^) ;  and 
again,  '  Whosoever  is  born  of  God  doth  not  commit 
sin  ;  for  his  seed  remaineth  in  him  :  and  he  cannot 
sin,  because  he  is  born  of  God '  (3^).  The  relation 
of  the  Son  to  the  Father,  His  Divine  setting  apart 
for  the  accomplishment  of  the  Father's  will,  the 
absolute  oneness  of  Father  and  Son  in  respect  of 
will  and  of  work,  and  the  mystery  of  Christ's 
miraculous  entrance  into  the  world,  being  con- 
ceived by  the  power  of  the  Divine  Spirit,  are, 
throughout  the  Gospel  of  John,  treated  as  ana- 
logues of  the  regeneration  which  must  be  wrought 
out  in  the  heart  and  life  of  all  who  would  enter 
the  Kingdom  of  God.  Thus  those  expressions 
which,  in  the  case  of  Christ  as  the  Incarnate  Word, 
or  in  the  case  of  believers  who  share  the  life  and 
the  grace  of  Christ,  speak  of  a  Divine  begetting, 
of  a  birth  from  above,  of  regeneration  by  the 
Spirit,  'denote  a  new  commencement  of  the  per- 
sonal life,  traceable  back  to  a  (creative)  operation 
of  God.' 

LiTKRATiTRE.— Cremer,  Bib.-Theol.  Lexicon,  s.vv.;  H.  Holtz- 
mann,  Lehrbxich  der  Xeutest.  TheologieA.  p.  436;  commentaries 
of  Alford,  Meyer,  etc. ;  Beyechlag,  NT  Theol.  i.  pp.  68ff.,  242,  ii. 
p.  48 ;  Dorner,  Development  of  the  Doctrine  o/  the  Person  of 
Chritt,  Div.  I.  vol.  i.  p.  63  ff. ;  Reuss,  Christian  Theohgp  in  the 
Apostolic  Aye,  i.  p.  162,  ii.  p.  416ff.;  Delitzsch,  Commentary  on 
the  Psalms,  ad  loc.  H.  H.  CUKRIE. 


R. — Though  beggars  are  seldom  spoken 
of  in  the  Gospel  narratives  (Mt  20»'-" ;  cf.  iNIk 
10«-",  Lk  18*>-",  Jn  9'-",  and  Lk  16'9-3»  parable  of 
Kicli  Man  and  Lazarus),  they  undoubtedly  formed 
a  considerable  class  in  the  Gospel  age.*    This  is 


hand,  the  verbs  Tfe^x.Tii,  (Mk  1CH6,  Lk  1«^),  iTwri*  (Lk  16»),  and 


e\'ident  both  from  the  references  to  almsgiving  in 
the  Sermon  on  the  Mount  and  from  tlie  mention 
of  beggars  in  connexion  with  places  of  a  public 
character:  the  entrance  to  Jericho  (Mt  20™  and 
parallels),  a  city  through  which  so  many  pilgrims 
went  at  festival  seasons,  the  neighlxiurhood  of  rich 
men's  houses  (Lk  16-"),  and  the  gates  of  the  temple 
(Ac  3=). 

The  prevalence  of  the  beggar  class  was  due  to 
various  causes  besides  indolence — to  the  want  of 
any  system  of  poor  relief,  to  the  ignorance  of 
proper  medical  remedies  for  common  diseases  like 
ophthalmia,  and  to  the  impoverishment  of  Pales- 
tine under  the  Romans  owing  to  cruel  and  excessive 
taxation.  (F"or  the  last,  see  Hausrath,  History 
of  NT  Times,  vol.  i.  188  [Eng.  tr.,  Williams  & 
Norgate]).  Edersheim  thinks  that  the  beggar's 
appeal  for  alms  may  have  been  enforced  by  some 
such  cry  as  'Gain  merit  by  me,'  '  O  tender-hearted, 
by  me  gain  merit,  to  thine  own  benefit'  (Life  and 
Times  of  Jesus,  vol.  ii.  178).  It  is  worthy  of  notice, 
however,  that  no  beggar  is  recorded  to  have  en- 
forced his  appeal  to  Christ  by  any  reference  to  the 
merit  to  be  gained  by  a  favourable  response  to  his 
ajipeal  (though  it  must  be  remembered,  on  the 
other  hand,  that  the  appeal  of  a  blind  beggar  to 
one  who  had  power  to  restore  his  si"ht  would 
naturally  differ  from  his  attitude  to  those  from 
whom  he  merely  sought  an  alms).  It  is  also 
observable  that  the  begging  '  saint '  of  Moham- 
medan countries  is  not  found  in  the  Gospels. 

The  remark  of  the  unjust  steward  in  the  parable 
(Lk  16') — 'To  beg  I  am  ashamed' — favours  the 
conclusion  that  begging,  under  any  circumstances, 
was  regarded  as  an  unfortunate  mode  of  existence, 
and,  in  the  case  of  the  indolent,  was  condemned  as 
strongly  by  public  opinion  as  it  was  in  the  days  of 
Jesus  the  son  of  Sirach  (Sir  40"-*"^). 

LiTERATUEE.— The  standard  Lives  of  Christ ;  G.  M.  Mackie'a 
Eibte  Manners  and  Customs;  The  Jewish  Encyclopedia,  s.v. ; 
cf.  Day's  Social  Life  of  the  Hebrews. 

MORI.SON  BRYCE. 

BELIEF.— Belief  is  the  mental  action,  condition, 
or  habit  of  trusting  in  or  confiding  in  a  person  or 
a  tiling.  Trust,  confidence,  reliance,  dependence, 
faith  are  from  this  point  of  \'iew  aspects  of  belief. 
Jlore  narrowly  considered,  belief  is  the  mental 
acceptance  of  a  proposition,  statement,  or  fact  on 
the  testimony  of  another,  or  on  the  ground  of 
authority.  Tflie  fact  may  be  beyond  our  observa- 
tion, or  the  statement  beyond  our  powers  of  verifi- 
cation, j-et  we  may  believe  that  Britain  is  an  island 
though  we  may  never  have  sailed  round  it,  and  we 
may  believe  in  the  law  of  gravitation  though  we 
may  not  be  able  to  follow  the  reasoning  which 
proves  it. 

This  is  not  the  place  to  deal  with  all  the  phases 
or  aspects  of  belief,  or  to  trace  the  history  of 
opinion  on  the  question.  It  is  an  interesting 
chapter  in  the  history  of  human  thought,  and  it 
is  of  the  highest  importance  in  its  practical 
reference.  But  we  may  only  indicate  the  main 
outline  of  it  in  both  respects.  The  contributions 
towards  the  right  understanding  of  the  province 
and  character  of  belief  in  more  recent  j-ears  have 
been  of  great  value.  Recent  psychology  has 
become  aware  of  the  magnitude  and  complexity 
of  the  problem,  and  in  the  hands  of  such  writers 
as  Bain,  James,  Stout,  Baldwin,  and  other.s  it  has 
received  a  treatment  which  may  be  described  as 
adequate.  Nor  should  we  omit  the  name  of  Dr. 
James  Ward,  whose  work  in  this  relation  is  of  the 
highest  merit.     These  have  endeavoured  to  mark 

the  noun  iptntirr,;  (Jn  98  Revised  Text) ;  on  the  other,  the  adj. 
^Tuxx  (Lk  1620  22).  In  the  former  case  the  root  idea  U  that  of 
asking  («;Tfa»),  wlule  irrux^^  suggests  the  cringing  or  crouching 
(■TTiTirti)  of  a  beggar.  But  t™j;»,-  is  the  ordinary  NT  word  for 
'  poor,'  whether  in  the  sense  of  needy  (Mt  1921)  or  humble  (Mt  6'). 


BELIEF 


BELIEF 


185 


off  the  lield  of  belief,  and  to  distinguish  it  from 
other  mental  states.  Is  it  active  or  passive  ?  Is  it 
a  state  of  mind  which  belongs  to  the  sphere  of 
feeling  ?  or  is  it  a  state  of  mind  whicli  belongs  to  in- 
telligence? or  is  it  something  which  belongs  to  tlie 
sphere  of  action  ?  and  is  it  a  result  of  the  '  will  to  l)e- 
lieve  '  ?  Weighty  names  may  be  adduced  in  favour 
of  each  of  these  views.  But  before  the  question  is 
asked  to  wliat  sphere  of  human  nature  belief  is  to 
be  assigned,  there  is  a  jirevious  question  to  be 
settled.  Are  we  to  give  the  name  of  belief  to 
every  mental  state  which  relates  to  an  object? 
Is  every  state  of  consciousness  which  arises  in 
response  to  a  stimulus  and  in  relation  to  an  object 
to  be  described  as  a  state  of  belief  ?  Can  we  say 
we  believe  in  our  sensations  as  we  say  we  believe 
in  our  reasoned  conclusions?  The  state  of  the 
question  may  be  set  forth  most  vividly  in  two 
characteristic  descriptions  of  the  nature  of  belief. 
Hume  says :  '  A  belief  may  be  most  accurately 
described  as  a  lively  idea  related  to  or  associated 
with  a  present  impression.'  Professor  Stout  says  : 
'  All  belief  involves  objective  control  of  subjective 
activity'  (Manual  of  Psijchologi/,  ii.  544). 

According  to  Hume,  '  an  opinion  or  belief  is 
nothing  but  an  idea  that  is  different  from  a 
fiction,  not  in  the  nature  or  in  the  order  of  its 
parts,  but  in  the  manner  of  its  being  conceived. 
But  when  I  would  explain  this  manner,  I  scarce 
find  any  word  that  fully  answers  the  case,  but  am 
obliged  to  have  recourse  to  every  one's  feeling,  in 
order  to  give  him  a  perfect  notion  of  this  operation 
of  the  mind.  An  idea  assented  to  feels  different 
from  a  fictitious  idea  that  the  fancy  presents  to 
us  ;  and  this  feeling  I  endeavour  to  e-xplain  by 
calling  it  a  superior  force,  or  vivacity,  or  solidity 
or  firmness,  or  steadiness'  (Hume's  Wor/:s,  i.  397  f.. 
Green's  ed.).  The  description  of  belief  given  by 
Hume  is  distinguished  by  tlie  absence  of  that 
'objective  control  of  subjective  activity'  which, 
according  to  Professor  Stout,  is  the  mark  of  all 
belief.  A  closer  examination  of  Hume's  state- 
ment enables  us  to  see  that  the  superior  force  or 
vivacity  of  a  belief  is  due  not  merely  to  the 
manner  of  conceiving  it,  but  to  a  certain  coercive- 
ness  which  fact  has  and  which  a  fancy  has  not. 
The  feeling  of  belief  is  not  a  gratuitous  addition 
made  by  the  mind  to  the  experience,  it  is  dictated 
by  the  fact  itself. 

Without  entering  into  the  discussion  in  any 
detail,  it  is  sufficient  for  the  jDresent  purpose  to 
say  that  all  belief  in  the  first  place  is  teleological, 
that  it  is  the  tendency  of  tlie  mind  to  make  itself 
at  home  in  the  world  in  which  it  has  to  live.  This 
general  description  includes  the  naive  uncritical 
belief  of  the  child,  and  the  reasoned  critical  belief 
of  the  mature  man.  In  its  simplicity  it  is  a  pos- 
tulate. It  may  be  almost  called  an  instinct,  an 
expectation  that  the  world  will  afford  to  man  a 
place  in  which  to  live  and  grow  and  w'ork.  Be  the 
origin  and  character  of  instinct  what  they  may,  be 
they  due  to  original  endowment  or  to  the  accumu- 
lated and  transmitted  inheritance  of  the  race,  yet 
the  instincts  are  there,  and  are  of  a  kind  to  enable 
life  to  act  before  individual  experience  has  had 
time  to  work.  Our  organic  nature  is  related  to  its 
environment,  and  it  jiostulates  an  environment 
with  which  it  (viii  intciart.  Thus  all  our  organic 
instincts  w  liich  liml  .'xprussion  in  appropriate  acts, 
such  as  siickiii;:,  ,;iiiiiL;,  moving  our  limbs  in  re- 
sponse to  a  .Ntiiuulu.s,  and  so  on,  are  called  into 
action  on  the  presentation  of  their  appropriate 
objects.  Action  begets  belief,  and  Ijelicf  is  again 
the  mental  situation  which  leads  to  further  action. 
At  the  outset  belief  is  dominated  by  our  practical 
needs.  In  truth,  the  new  school  of  Humanism 
holds  that  all  aetiWties  whatsoever  are  in  the 
interest  of   the   practical  needs  of  man,   and  by 


the  emphasis  it  has  laid  on  this  aspect  it  has 
called  attention  to  a  factor  of  human  experience 
which  has  been  too  much  neglected.  For  there 
is  no  doubt  that  the  character  of  belief  is  to  be 
explained,  in  the  first  place  at  all  events,  from  its 
function  in  relation  to  the  practical  needs  of  man. 
And  all  through  the  experience  of  man,  belief  is 
an  expression  of  human  need,  and  is  the  demand 
which  a  living  creature  makes  on  the  Universe  for 
a  place  to  live  in,  to  grow  in,  and  to  furnish  itself 
witli  what  shall  satisfy  its  need.  Thus  the  initial 
postulate  of  belief  is  that  it  is  in  a  world  in  whicli 
it  may  make  itself  at  home,  and  the  final  demand 
of  belief  in  developed  liuuiuiiity  is  that  it  shall 
find  itself  in  a  rational,  inhllivil'.lc  woi  Id,  in  which 
its  ideals  of  unity,  iiil'ili,-iliilit\ ,  lieauty,  and 
worth  may  and  will  find  thcii  re;tliz:itiun. 

Our  beliefs,  then,  in  their  generality  are  our 
postulates.  They  set  forth  our  expectations,  our 
desires,  our  wishes.  They  proceed  on  the  assump- 
tion that  our  needs  are  related  to  reality,  and  that 
reality  has  a  way  of  satisfying  our  needs.  In  all 
belief  there  is,  of  course,  a  certain  risk.  We  may 
mistake  our  real  needs,  and  we  may  make  mistakes 
as  to  the  nature  of  reality.  But  the  postulate  is 
there  notwithstanding.  In  fact,  to  believe  that  a 
thing  exists  is  to  act  as  if  it  existed.  To  believe 
that  the  properties  of  a  thing  are  so  and  so,  is  to  act 
on  that  supposition.  Thus,  apart  from  any  theory, 
we  all  postulate  a  kind  of  uniformity  of  nature. 

From  this  point  of  view  all  axioms  are  pos- 
tulates. They  are  unavoidable  assumptions. 
Students  of  science  are  familiar  with  these.  We 
do  not  at  present  raise  the  question  whether  the 
universal  formulae  of  science  are  more  than  pos- 
tulates. They  are  postulates,  and  are  demands 
which  our  nature  makes  on  the  Universe. 

Our  postulates,  however,  moi/  mislead  ;  they  may 
be  unwarrantable,  and  not  unavoidable.  Along, 
therefore,  with  the  predisposition  to  believe  in 
the  reality  and  modes  of  being  of  the  objects  of 
experience,  there  goes  the  necessity  of  verification, 
criticism,  and  investigation.  For  postulates  may 
be  too  readily  made.  Passing  needs  may  be  taken 
for  permanent,  and  beliefs  may  be  based  on  wrong 
impressions.  Subjective  hopes  or  fears  may  ob- 
jectify their  objects,  and  attribute  reality  to 
objects  which  have  nonp.  Tliu=!  wc  Iiave  beliefs 
which  are  irresistible  an. I  uii;i\ ni.l.iblr..  They  are 
absolutely  based  in  the  icnstitutiiui  ni  the  mind 
itself,  and  are  the  assnmi.tioiis  without  which 
experience  is  impossible.  Students  of  Kant  will 
readily  recognize  them.  They  lie  at  the  basis  of 
our  life  and  activity,  they  are  acted  on  before  we 
are  conscious  of  them,  and  when  they  arise  into 
clear  consciousness  we  recognize  that  they  are 
unavoidable  and  inevitable.  In  like  manner"  there 
are  other  principles  arising  out  of  our  intercourse 
with  the  external  world  which  strike  us  as  in- 
evitable and  unavoidable.  To  enumerate  these 
would  lead  us  too  far  afield. 

Between  the  necessary  and  universal  beliefs  on 
the  one  hand,  and  the  practical  necessity  which 
coerces  our  beliefs  on  the  other  hand,  there  lies  a 
wide  field  of  beliefs,  the  validity  of  which  depends 
on  our  ability  to  sift,  examine,  and  criticise  tliem. 
The  process  of  sifting  and  criticism  is  coextensive 
with  experience.  Man  is  ever  sifting  his  beliefs, 
is  ever  criticising  them,  and  is,  more  or  less,  suc- 
cessfully active  in  the  endeavour  to  make  them 
correspond  with  reality  as  he  is  able  to  apprehend 
and  conceive  reality.  He  ventures  in  the  belief 
that  there  is  a  correspondence  between  his  inward 
nature  and  the  world  in  which  he  lives;  he  believes 
that  there  is  a  constancy  in  things,  that  the  quali- 
ties of  things  will  remain  constant.  He  makes  the 
venture,  and  the  venture  is  justified,  and  his  faith 
increases  as  his  expectation  is  verified.    Beginning 


186 


BELIEF 


BELIEF 


with  the  need  to  live  and  to  make  himself  at  Iiome 
in  the  world,  going  on  to  satisfy  ids  dominant  and 
controlling  need  to  obtain  some  masteiy  of  the 
world,  he  reaches  the  time  when  he  pursues  know- 
ledge for  its  own  sake,  and,  in  a  disinterested 
manner,  seeks  to  obtain  a  consistent  and  complete 
view  of  the  scheme  of  things.  So  the  sciences, 
the  philosophies,  the  poesies  of  the  world  arise, 
and  all  the  manifold  works  of  the  human  spirit. 

Tlie  beliefs  of  man  can,  as  we  see,  be  looked  at  as 
movements  of  the  human  spirit  arising  out  of  his 
intercourse  with  the  world  in  which  he  lives.  Our 
accoimt  of  the  matter  would  be  most  imperfect  were 
we  to  confine  our  attention  to  man  considered  only 
as  an  individual.  Belief  is  largely  a  social  product. 
The  working  belief.s  of  the  ci^-ilized  man  are 
largely  due  to  inheritance.  Without  entering  on 
the  mysterious  question  of  heredity,  and  without 
inquiry  into  the  amount  or  quality  of  our  organic 
inheritance,  there  is  no  doubt  that  a  large  propor- 
tion of  our  working  beliefs  arise  out  of  our  social 
environment,  and  out  of  the  intellectual,  moral, 
and  spiritual  atmosphere  of  the  society  around  us. 
The  language  we  learu  to  speak  is  the  registration 
of  the  beliefs  of  tho.se  who  made  and  used  it ;  it 
tells  the  meaning  which  men  found  in  the  world 
and  in  their  own  life.  It  throbs  with  the  life  of 
all  the  past,  i.':  directive  of  the  life  of  the  present 
and  the  future.  We  learn  the  meanings  as  we 
learn  to  speak,  and  the  meanings  of  those  who 
speak  to  us  become  our  meanings.  Our  beliefs 
and  our  meanings  belong  together.  And  ere  we 
know  it,  we  are  furnished  with  a  working  body  of 
beliefs  which  mainly  represent  the  experience  of 
our  ancestors.  As  we  speak  with  the  accent  of  the 
family  and  the  district,  as  our  voices  repeat  tlie 
s^^'ing  and  cadence  of  the  sentence,  so  we  take 
over  also  the  beliefs  which  sway  the  minds  of  those 
with  whom  we  live.  It  is  a  mixed  inheritance 
which  we  receive  and  actively  appropriate. 
Beliefs  unsifted,  uncriticized,  results  of  prejudice 
often,  often  of  superstition,  form  part  of  the  inherit- 
ance we  receive.  And  the  mind  assents  readily 
enough  to  the  strange  amalgam,  f'or  beliind  the 
beliefs  are  the  trust  which  the  young  have  in  the 
old,  and  the  natural  homage  which  they  yield  to 
experience. 

The  persistence  of  beliefs  from  age  to  age  is 
itself  a  proof  that  they  have  a  certain  correspond- 
ence with  reality.  As  all  belief  is  a  venture  and  a 
risk,  failure  to  realize  an  expectation  is  a  question- 
ing of  its  validity,  and  gives  occasion  for  inquiry. 
Thus  belief  is  always  under  the  criticism  of 
reality,  and  the  stress  of  circumstance  and  the 
strain  of  living  compel  us  to  revise  our  beliefs  and 
strive  to  make  them  correspond  with  tlie  facts. 
It  is  a  process  that  never  ends ;  and  as  experience 
widens  and  knowledge  grows,  the  circle  of  our 
beliefs  may  contract  in  one  direction  and  expanil 
in  another.  Beliefs  may  take  the  rank  of  universal 
and  necessary  convictions,  or  they  may  be  classed 
as  merely  probable,  or  may  sink  to  the  level  of 
bare  possibility.  Our  postulates  may  pass  into  the 
region  of  certainty,  or  may  have  to  be  abandoned 
as  mere  possibilities. 

Looking  at  the  matter  from  a  historical  point  of 
view,  perliaps  tlie  most  striking  factor  in  the 
genesis  and  growth  of  belief  is  that  of  trust  hi  a 
person.  Into  this  state  of  mind  many  elements 
enter.  The  earliest  manifestation  of  belief  among 
human  beings  is  that  which  we  call  Animism,  or 
the  belief  that  all  things  have  an  inward  life,  and 
have  their  own  nature  and  activity.  A  spirit 
dwells  in  all  objects,  whether  it  is  in  them  origin- 
ally, or  has  been  put  into  them  by  some  process  or 
act.  Crude  as  this  belief  is,  it  yet  has  in  it  the 
germs  of  growth,  and  by  refinement  of  its  terms 
and  by  the  removal  of  its  grosser  elements  it  has 


become  the  spirit  and  the  meaning  of  the  higher 
philosophy  of  to-day.  What  is  the  Hegelian  con- 
ception of  the  final  correspondence  of  thought  and 
reality,  but  a  higher  form  of  the  original  belief  of 
man  that  the  world  around  him,  and  the  objects 
with  which  he  came  into  contact,  had  a  thought 
and  meaning  in  them  akin  to  those  which  he  found 
in  himself?  It  were  an  easy  task  to  extend  this 
observation  to  other  philosophies,  but  space 
forbids. 

Animism  itself  was  a  form  of  belief  which  came 
to  higher  issues  in  the  social  intercourse  of  man 
with  man.  The  belief  which  man  came  to  hold  as 
to  the  animistic  character  of  all  objects  whatsoever 
attained  to  vividness  and  certainty  when  applied 
to  his  fellow-men.  In  this  sphere  there  was  cer- 
tainty, for  was  there  not  the  interchange  of  in- 
fluence, of  feeling  and  thought,  between  himself 
and  his  fellows  ?  Mutual  help,  power  of  working 
together,  concerted  action  with  friends  and  against 
enemies,  the  need  of  increased  adaptation  to  the 
conditions  of  life,  all  conspired  to  raise  belief  in 
one's  fellow-men  to  a  dominant  height.  Out  of 
this  social  co-operation  have  arisen  the  sciences, 
the  arts,  the  philosophies,  and  especially  the  in- 
stitutions of  civilized  life.  But  in  considering  the 
rise  and  growth  of  these  achievements  of  human 
life,  we  must  always  remember  that  they  are  the 
outcome  of  the  striving  of  conscious  beings.  This 
has  been  so  well  put  by  Professor  Villa  that  we 
quote  his  statement. 

*  The  mainspring  of  the  mental  development  of  the  individual 
and  the  species  thus  consists  in  two  contrary  forces,  on  whose 
equilibrium  both  individual  and  social  progress  depend.  One— 
namely,  "  imitation  " — is  a  conservative,  the  other — "  invention  " 
—is  a  progressive  force.  The  former  corresponds  to  biological 
heredity,  and  is  responsible  for  social  and  individual  habits  and 
instincts ;  the  latter  corresponds  to  the  biological  law  of  varia- 
tions, and  finds  its  highest  expression  in  "genius."  The 
naturalistic  and  positive  schools  of  the  nineteenth  century  were 
too  much  inclined  to  consider  social  development  as  a  purely 
natural  and  unconscious  evolution,  and  omitted  accordingly  to 
take  these  two  forces  into  consideration.  Instead  of  considering 
social  institutions,  ideas,  and  phenomena  as  spontaneous  pro- 
ducts of  the  nameless  multitude,  modern  Psychology  rightly 
considers  them  the  outcome  of  individual  genius,  subsequently 
consolidated,  diffused,  and  presented  for  the  whole  species  by 
imitation.  This  idea,  admirably  developed  by  Tarde,  on  which 
Baldwin  founds  his  studies  of  social  Psychology,-,  has  transformed 
the  theories  which  were  current  with  regard  to  tlie  evolution  of 
the  collective  mind,  which  is  thus  presented  in  the  light  of  a 
conscious,  and  not  of  an  unconscious  evolution  like  that  of 
geological  phenomena.  Genius,  therefore,  is  not  to  be  under- 
stood as .".  degeneration,  a  violation  of  the  natural  and  consen-a- 
tive  law  of  heredity,  but  as  the  integrating  factor  of  the  latter, 
e-vpressive  of  variation,  impulse,  and  motion,  as  a  dynamic 
force,  without  which  evolution  itself  would  be  impossible' 
{Contemporary  Psychology,  by  Guido  Villa,  Eng.  tr.  p.  256). 

Thus  the  whirligig  of  time  brings  about  its 
revenges,  and  the  uniform  tradition  of  history 
as  to  the  influence  of  great  personalities  on  the 
race  is  being  justified  by  modern  Psychology.  In 
this  tradition  every  movement  of  advance  was 
ascribed  to  great  men.  Advances  in  the  prac- 
tical control  of  nature,  the  making  of  tools,  the 
use  of  tire,  the  sowin"  of  grain,  and  so  on,  are 
in  the  tradition  of  the  race  ascribed  to  indi- 
vidual men.  More  particularly  is  this  the  case 
with  regard  to  the  founders  of  cities,  the  makers 
of  laws,  the  founders  or  the  reformers  of  religions, 
and  the  framers  of  institutions.  The  19th  cent,  was 
celebrated  for  its  endeavours  to  disintegrate  great 
men,  to  minimize  their  influence,  and  to  trace 
great  historic  movements  to  a  process  and  not  to  a 
person.  How  much  influence  this  predilection  has 
had  on  historic  criticism  we  shall  not  here  inquire. 
But  in  the  light  of  modem  Psychology,  perhaps, 
Romulus,  Numa  Pompilius,  Solon,  Lycurgus,  and 
manj-  others  may  be  looked  at  as  real  persons, 
benefactors  of  the  race,  whose  names  represent 
real  forces  in  the  development  of  humanity. 
Perhaps  modem  Psychologj'  may  help  men  to 
have  some  real  apprehension  of  Moses,  as  ancient 


BELIEF 


BELIEF 


187 


Psychology  had  so  much  to  do  with  his  disintegra- 
tion. 

In  the  sphere  of  religious  belief  we  have  clear 
and  overwhelming  evidence  of  the  weight  and 
influence  of  personality  in  the  shajiing  of  belief, 
and  in  the  acfvance  of  men  to  clearer  thought  and 
purer  embodiment  of  the  religious  ideals.  It  has 
been  through  the  striving,  the  toil,  the  agony  of 
great  men  tliat  the  ideals  of  religion  have  attained 
to  form  and  reality.  To  them  it  was  given  to  toil 
for  the  race,  and  the  vision  they  saw  and  the 
moral  and  spiritual  truth  tliey  won  became  the 
inheritance  of  other  men,  and  through  them  were 
conserved  for  the  good  of  the  race.  Nor  is  it  the 
fact  that  the  work  and  influence  of  great  person- 
alities on  other  persons  have  been  of  a  narrow  and 
cramping  kind.  On  the  contrary,  all  the  religious 
truth  we  possess  may  be  traced  back  to  the  moral, 
spiritual,  and  intellectual  insight  of  great  men, 
just  as  every  great  discovery  of  science  is  associ- 
ated with  some  CTeat  historic  name.  This  personal 
element  in  our  belief  is  of  universal  validity.  As 
a  matter  of  fact,  only  those  religions  which  have 
had  a  personal  founder  have  become  universal,  or 
at  least  international.  For,  after  all,  personality 
is  our  highest  category  of  tliought  and  life. 

Belief  in  great  personalities  may  be  liistorically 
and  scientifically  vindicated.  They  were  needed 
to  make  the  new  departure,  they  were  the  first  to 
see  the  vision,  they  made  the  discovery,  or  thought 
out  the  truth ;  but  those  unfitted  to  be  pioneers 
may  be  quite  able  to  think  over  again  what  is 
made  plam  to  them  by  him  who  was  the  first  to 
think  out  that  truth.  The  insight  of  a  great  man 
may  be  verified  by  the  experience  of  other  men. 
In  fact,  we  have  daily  illustrations  of  this  in  our 
own  experience.  We  use  telephones,  we  drive  by 
means  of  steam  or  electricity,  we  command  nature 
by  using  the  means  which  others  have  placed  at 
our  disposal,  though  we  may  not  have  the  power 
of  making  these  discoveries.  Plato,  Aristotle, 
Kant  opened  out  paths  on  which  the  feet  of  others 
may  safely  tread,  and  we  may  rise  to  the  height 
of  the  vision  of  Dante,  and  rejoice  in  the  univer- 
sality of  Shakespeare,  though  these  would  have 
remained  undiscovered  countries  had  not  those 
great  personalities  opened  the  gates  of  entrance 
to  us. 

Yet  the  man  in  the  street  has  something  in 
common  with  tlie  greatest  and  the  highest.  If  he 
cannot  initiate  he  may  imitate,  and  if  he  cannot 
make  the  discovery  he  may  appreciate  and  act  on 
it  when  it  has  been  made.  For  in  the  long-run  the 
achievements  of  great  men  in  any  sphere,  just  in 
proportion  to  their  truth  and  value,  turn  out  to 
have  elements  of  permanent  value.  Though  the 
discoveries  of  a  person,  they  have  no  mere  personal 
value.  They  are  objective,  and  because  objective 
they  may  become  the  possession  of  every  man. 
We  have  spoken  up  to  this  point  of  the  work  of 
great  personalities  only  so  far  as  that  work  was  a 
help  towards  the  discovery  of  truth  and  a  help  to 
life.  Belief  in  them,  trust  in  them,  is  thus  far 
justified.  But  no  great  personality  answers  to  the 
ideal  of  greatness  in  all  tlie  aspects  of  greatness. 
Great  men  have  had  their  limitations,  and  great- 
ness from  one  point  of  view  has  been  accompanied 
with  littleness  in  other  respects.  The  leaders  of 
men  have  liad  their  limitations.  Some  have  been 
great  in  action,  some  in  thought,  some  in  inven- 
tion, some  in  power  of  poetic  or  prophetic  vision, 
and  some  in  other  ways.  Others  have  been  great  in 
gathering  into  a  system  the  results  of  the  work  of 
former  generations,  and  have  tlius  marked  out  the 
stage  to  which  humanity  has  come.  But  the 
limitations  of  great  men  have  had  their  efl'ect,  and 
their  achievements  may  come  to  hinder  and  not 
to  help  progress.    In  all  spheres  of  human  thought 


and  action  tliis  has  been  true,  and  the  imitative 
mind  of  man  has  striven  to  live  in  formula;  which 
have  become  outworn  and  efiete.  There  has  been 
also  imitation  of  great  men  in  those  aspects  of 
their  activity  in  which  they  were  not  good  or 
great.  Illustrations  of  these  facts  abound,  and 
need  not  be  dwelt  on  at  length. 

But  trust  in  personality  as  one  of  the  greatest 
forces  of  human  progress  and  one  of  the  strongest 
elements  in  belief  is  justified  notwithstanding.  It 
alone  can  give  the  enthusiasm  which  confronts 
difficulties,  the  personal  devotion  and  love  which 
make  men  willing  to  live  and  die  for  a  great  cause. 
The  great  epochs  of  human  life,  the  times  whicli 
stand  out  in  history  as  full  of  heroic  endeavour,  of 
far-reaching  aspiration,  and  of  substantial  gain  for 
other  ages,  have  been  pre-eminently  periods  of 
abounding  trust  in  great  ideals ;  and  these  ideals 
appear  in  all  their  grandeur  as  embodied  in  some 
great  personality.  The  imitative  mind  found  its 
ideal  embodied  in  the  great  man  of  its  time  ;  and 
was  touched  as  with  a  flame,  and  followed  on 
and  became  greater  than  it  knew.  The  "reat 
personality  became  for  the  lesser  men  the  embodi- 
ment of  the  highest  ideal  they  had  ever  known  ; 
and  they,  so  far  as  they  saw  it,  embodied  it  in 
their  own  action  and  character,  and  wrought  it  so 
far  into  the  very  constitution  of  humanity.  So 
the  vision  grew ;  and  as  one  jjersonality  after 
another  revealed  to  men  the  possible  synthesis  of 
the  ideal  greatness  of  a  perfect  personality,  men 
were  educated  to  perceive  what  they  ought  to 
demand  in  the  ideal  of  a  perfect  personality  in 
whom  they  might  completely  and  absolutely  trust. 

In  the  perfect  personality  in  whom  man  may 
absolutely  trust  all  kinds  of  ideals  must  meet,  and 
be  harmonized  in  a  perfect  unity.  Tliat  is  the 
postulate  of  the  nature  of  man.  And  eacli  part  of 
man's  complex  nature  makes  its  own  demand  and 
contributes  its  own  share  towards  the  realization 
of  the  ideal.  Our  intelligent  nature  demands 
unity  and  intelligibility  in  the  Universe,  and  in 
Him  in  whom  the  Universe  lives  and  moves  and 
has  its  being.  Our  moral  nature  demands  its 
ideal  of  perfect  goodness,  righteousness,  and  holi- 
ness in  order  to  meet  the  needs  of  our  moral 
nature,  and  to  give  us  scope  for  the  exercise  of 
reverence  towards  that  which  is  above  us,  love 
towards  all  that  helps  and  sustains  us,  and  bene- 
volence towards  all  that  needs  our  help.  Tlie 
esthetic  nature  furnishes  its  ideal  of  perfect 
beauty  and  harmony,  and  demands  that  reality 
shall  meet  this  as  it  meets  every  other  demanci. 
The  heart  demands  goodness  and  love,  and  furnishes 
in  its  own  action  the  type  of  what  it  demands. 
The  Christian  belief  is  that  all  these  ideals  meet 
and  are  realized  in  God.  It  is  the  business  of 
Theism  to  show  how  these  ideals  are  realized  in 
God,  and  it  is  the  business  of  the  metaphysician, 
the  ethicist,  the  ajstheticist,  and  the  poet  to  show 
how  the  various  ideals  converge  to  the  one  great 
ideal  whom  we  reverently  call  God.  Our  intel- 
lectual, ethical,  spiritual,  artistic,  and  emotional 
ideals  agree,  must  agree,  if  we  are  to  attain  to 
harmony  of  life  and  fulness  of  being.  We  repeat 
again  that  these  are  our  needs,  and  our  needs  have 
their  roots  in  reality,  and  reality  does  not  dis- 
appoint us. 

Is  there  a  Personality  who  can  be  to  all  men 
what  some  personalities  have  been  to  some  men 
and  to  some  nations?  Is  there  one  who  can  be  to 
all  nations  what  the  national  heroes  Iiave  been  to 
particular  peoples,  one  who  can  embody  tlieir 
highest  ideals,  and  who  can  so  react  on  thum  as  to 
make  them  work  out  these  ideals  in  themselves  ? 
That  is  tlie  claim  which  history  makes  for  Christ, 
which  Christians  make  for  Him,  and  which  they 
believe  has  been  verified  in  human  experience  by 


BELIEF 


all  who  have  trusted  and  followed  Him.  He  Him- 
self makes  the  claim  :  '  I  am  the  way,  the  truth, 
and  the  life '  ( Jn  14*).  St.  Paiil  makes  it  for  Him  : 
'  in  whom  are  all  tlie  treasures  of  wisdom  and 
knowledge  hidden'  (Col  2').  This  is  not  the  place 
to  unfold  the  meaning  of  the  claim  of  Christ  to  the 
reverence  and  trust  of  all  men,  nor  to  set  forth 
His  ability  to  meet  all  the  needs  of  our  nature 
and  to  satisfy  all  our  ideals.  It  would  take  many 
treatises  to  do  that  work,  instead  of  one  brief 
article.  But  the  scope  of  the  proof  may  be  indi- 
cated. First,  as  to  the  demands  which  our  needs 
make  on  Christ ;  and,  second,  as  to  His  ability  to 
meet  them.  Tlie  main  demands  of  our  nature 
may  be  summed  up  in  the  ideals  we  have  noted 
above:  the  demand  for  unity,  ithe  demand  for 
purity,  the  longing  for  beauty  and  harmony,  the 
tliirst  for  love  and  gootlness  and  fulness  of  life. 
The  demand  for  unity,  and  the  belief  that  unity  is 
there,  have  led  men  on  towards  the  conquest  of  the 
world, — which  conquest  has  embodied  itself,  so  far 
as  it  lias  gone,  in  the  sciences  and  their  practical 
applications  and  in  the  philosophies  of  the  world. 
The  demand  for  beauty  and  harmony,  and  its  result 
in  the  poetries,  arts,  and  beautiful  human  construc- 
tions, and  in  increasing  appreciations  of  the  beauty 
of  the  Universe  ;  the  demand  for  goodness,  riglit- 
eousness,  love,  which  has  embodied  itself  in  tlie 
ethical  and  spiritual  life  of  the  world,  are  illus- 
trations of  the  faith  of  man  in  the  unity,  beautj', 
goodness,  and  worth  of  reality,  and  his  own  achieve- 
ments are  tributes  to  the  validity  of  his  faith. 

But  the  needs  of  man  make  this  claim  on  the 
perfect  human  personality.  We  need  One  who 
can  reveal  to  us  what  human  life  ought  to  be  and 
what  it  may  become.  We  need  One  who  gathers 
into  Himself  all  the  types  of  greatness  that  have 
ever  entered  into  the  thoughts  of  men ;  and  One 
who  has  realized  them  in  His  own  life  and  action. 
But  we  need  to  be  educated  and  trained  toappreciate 
the  ideal,  for  it  may  be,  nay,  it  is,  the  reversal  of 
many  human  ideals'.  Man  has  often  mistaken  his 
real  needs,  and  has  also  mistaken  the  ideals  wliieli 
alone  can  satisfy  them.  The  first  must  become 
last  and  the  last  first.  The  intellectual,  moral, 
ajsthetic,  and  religious  needs  of  man  have  sought 
satisfaction  in  the  pursuit  of  false  ideals,  and  have 
not  found  it.  Yet  the  needs  are  real  and  the 
search  was  good,  and  the  satisfaction  is  attain- 
able. The  perfect  Iiunian  Personality  reveals  to 
man  how  to  show  reverence  to  what  is  above  man, 
love  to  all  his  equals,  and  benevolence  to  all  that 
is  subject  to  him.  He  has  shown  it  in  His  own 
action,  and  inspires  it  in  those  who  trust  Him. 

Belief  in  Clirist  is  thus  the  outcome  of  the 
deepest  needs  of  man's  manifold  nature,  and  the 
prophecy  of  their  complete  satisfaction.  It  means 
also  that  there  is  a  revelation  to  man  of  what  his 
real  needs  are.  It  means  instruction,  education, 
training  into  a  true  and  adequate  apprehension  of 
his  own  nature  and  calling.  He  learns  from  Christ 
his  own  value  and  worth,  and  the  sphere  in  which 
these  may  be  realized.  He  learns  how  this 
supreme  Personality  has  thought  about  him, 
cared  for  him,  sufl'ered  for  him,  lives  for  him,  and 
is  ever  workin"  and  striving  in  him  and  for  him. 
Then,  too,  he  learns,  as  he  trusts  Christ,  what  life 
and  conduct  ought  to  be,  and  he  learns  that  it  is 
possible  through  union  with  Christ  to  live  that  life 
and  imitate  that  conduct.  For  the  furtlier  devel- 
opment of  this  part  of  our  theme  we  have  to  refer 
to  Christian  dogmatics,  and  specially  to  the  NT 
documents.  AVe  may  also  refer  to  the  practical 
experience  of  the  Christian  through  the  Christian 
centuries,  and  to  what  it  has  felt  and  accom- 
plished. 

As  to  the  ability  of  Christ  to  satisfy  our  needs 
and  meet  our  ideals,  we  have  just  to  make  the  .same 


BELOVED 

reference.  We  are  beginning  to  understand  the 
cosmical  significance  of  Christ.  As  our  knowledge 
of  the  primary  revelation  of  God  is  widened  by 
the  patient  and  triumphant  labours  of  scientilic 
workers  through  the  ages,  we  find  increased 
validity  in  the  process  when  we  reflect  that  we 
are  following  in  the  footsteps  of  Him  by  whom 
every  thing  was  made  that  was  made.  '  In  Him 
all  things  consist,'  and  our  faith  in  the  Eternal 
Logos  is  confirmed  as  we  trace  out  tlie  logos  of 
tilings.  Then  in  the  sphere  of  history  we  desire 
a  meaning  and  a  unity,  we  need  the  belief  that  a 

Sirpose  runs  through  the  ages,  and  we  find  that  of 
ira,  and  through  Him,  and  to  Him  are  all  things ; 
that  'God  was  in  Christ  reconciling  the  world  to 
Himself,'  and  that  there  is  a  ministry  of  reconcilia- 
tion in  history.  Then  comes  the  personal  know- 
ledge of  Him,  in  His  perfect  grace,  love,  wisdom, 
power ;  and  the  union  with  Him,  till  He  becomes 
the  atmosphere  we  breathe,  our  outlook  on  life 
and  its  possibilities,  the  source  of  all  our  strivings, 
the  goal  of  all  our  efforts  ;  and  the  only  true 
description  of  it  all  is  that  we  are  '  in  Christ 
Jesus. 

The  coiTesixradence  is  perfect  between  our  needs 
and  their  satisfaction  in  Jesus  Christ.  Here  the 
subjective  is  controlled  by  the  objective,  and  the 
coercive  power  of  Christ  over  the  belief  of  those 
who  trust  Him  is  perfect.  Much  might  be  said  on 
the  educative  power  of  Christ  on  man  as  to  the 
true  needs  of  man,  and  much  might  be  said  on  the 
reasonableness  of  trust  in  this  perfect  Personality ; 
but  enougli  has  been  said  to  indicate  the  congruity 
of  this  belief  with  the  whole  nature  of  belief  in 
general,  and  to  show  that  it  is  the  outcome  of  all 
the  factors  which  enter  into  and  justify  that  atti- 
tude of  the  human  mind  wliicli  we  call  belief.  See, 
further,  art.  Faith. 

LiTERATi'FE.— The  articles  'Belief  and  'Psychology'  in  the 
Encj/c.    Brit.^:    .Tames,    Principles   0/  Psychology;    Turner, 

Ji>wirl.<l<ii;  Jkli,/,  iiinl  Ci-rtil  iidc  ;  Flint,  Agnosticimi ;  Royce, 
Tlie  Ju'ifiinifx  Afji.;'!  .-(  M,j<l,'ra  Philosophy;  Newman,  Grnm- 
mur,.i  Axs,  nt ;  luiii,  Knu.i  i,.,,.-:  aiij  the  WW,  and  Mental  and 
Muni'l  .S'l.  nee  ;  \  ilki,  t.'t.ut,  ,ni«:mri/  Psychology.  It  may  be 
well  to  nfvr  to  Kunl  in  his  Uun-  great  Critiques,  and  specially 
to  his  treatment  of  'Glaube'  in  the  Critique  0/  the  Practical 
Reason.  In  the  works  of  Sir  William  Hamilton,  Mansel,  and 
Herbert  Spencer  the  reader  will  find  discussions  of  some  value. 
In  truth,  the  literature  which  in  one  form  or  other  deals  with  the 
nature  and  validity  of  belief  is  so  enormous,  that  an  exhaustive 
reference  is  out  of  the  question.  But  reference  oufrht  to  be 
made  to  Balfour's  Foundations  of  Belief  and  to  Kidd's  Social 


Evolution,  as  these  books  present  a  somewhat  peculiai 

the  nature  and  validity  of  belief,  specially  in  its  relation  to 

knowledge. 

As  to  belief  in  Christ  we  need  not  give  any  reference,  for  all 
the  literature  of  Christianity  would  be  relevant  here. 

J.  IVERACH. 

BELOVED. — Wherever  the  word  rendered  '  be- 
loved '  (ayaTyb^ — in  9  places  AV  has  '  dearly  be- 
loved '  and  in  .3  places  '  well-beloved ' ;  in  every 
case  RV  has  '  beloved '  only)  is  used  in  the  NT,  it 
seems  to  imply  a  love  deeper  and  more  intimate 
than  the  common  affections,  and  is  therefore  but 
sparingly  employed.  In  the  Epistles  it  is  the  in- 
dication of  tlie  inner  brotherhood, '  and  its  very 
form  '  beloved  brethren '  has  passed  into  every 
liturgy.  St.  Paui  uses  it  to  distinguish,  as  with 
peculiar  honour,  those  whom  he  has  personally 
enliglitened  with  the  new  faith,  as  Epcenetus  (Ro 
16°),  Timothy  (I  Co  4"),  or  a  whole  community 
(1  Co  10",  Pli  2'-).  But  in  the  Gospels  the  word  is 
used  solely  concerning  Christ,  and  marks  out  the 
Son's  especial  relationship  to  the  Father.  There 
is  abundance  of  love  throughout  the  Gospels : 
whether  of  Jesus  for  John  and  the  rest,  or  of  the 
disciples  and  others  for  Him :  and  there  is  no 
weakness  or  timidity  in  the  expression  of  the  love. 
But  to  none  other  save  Himself  is  the  word  '  be- 
loved '  applied.  He  Himself  uses  it  but  once,  and 
then  in  the  parable  of  the  Lord  of  the  Vineyard, 
wlierein  the  '  beloved  son'  is  the  evident  picture  of 


I 


BENEDICTION 


BENEDICTION 


the  Son  of  Man  (Mk  li"  [AV  '  well-beloved'],  Lk 
20").  Elsewhere  the  Evangelists  (Syin.|.ti^ts  only), 
who  give  the  word,  report  it  as  tin'  iil  ti'i.-nni-  of 
God,  the  Divine  recognition  and  .ipimn  .il  nf  tlie 
Son.  The  influence  of  the  OT  is  plainly  w^ihW-  in 
the  words  heard  at  the  Baptism.  Jesus  hears  the 
voice  of  God  pronouncing  a  benediction  in  clearest 
remembrance  of  Ps  2',  '  Thou  art  my  son,  this  day 
have  I  begotten  thee,'  and  of  Is  42'  'My  chosen, 
in  whom  my  soul  delighteth '  (quoted  in  Mt  12'^; 
cf.  Bruce,  Expos.  Gr.  Test.,  in  lot:);  for  the  Syn- 
optists  agree  in  the  phrase  '  My  beloved  son  in 

(whom)  ^  '^'"  ^^'^'1  pleased '  (Mt  3",  Mk  1",  Lk 
3-').  _  And  there  is  something  beautifully  fitting 
in  this  consecration  of  the  opening  of  His  ministry 
by  a  blended  echo  of  psalm  and  prophecy.  The 
other  occasion  of  the  word  is  that  record  of  another 
great  revealing  moment  of  His  life— the  Trans- 
figuration, when  two  of  the  three  tell  of  '  a  voice 
out  of  the  cloud  (sa.ying),  This  is  my  beloved  son, 
hear  ye  him  '  (Mt  17=,  Mk  9' ;  in  the  ||  Lk  9^5  the 
true  reading  is  iK\e\eyii4fos). 

Literature.— The  Lexicons  of  Cremer  and  Grimm-Thaver,  s.v. 
i}-«T^To.- ;  E.  H.  Charles,  Ascmsion  of  Imiah  (1900),  p.  3  and 
passim ;  J.  A.  Robinson,  Epist'.i  to  Ephesians  (1904),  229 ;  art. 
'  Beloved '  in  Hastings'  DB.  E.  DaPLYN. 

BENEDICTION — Benedictions  on  the  assembled 
people  pronounced  by  an  officiating  priest  or 
minister  were  a  regular  part  of  the  liturgies  of  the 
temple  and  the  synagogue,  but  no  diiect  mention 
is  made  of  these  in  the  Gospel  narratives.  Quite 
similar  in  character,  however,  are  the  benedictions 
on  persons,  which  are  not  a  part  of  the  ceremonial 
of  Divine  worship.  Of  these  there  are  several 
examples  in  the  Gospels  (Lk  2^  6='*  24'"  and  Mk 
10'«).  All  such  words  of  blessing  are  liable  to  have 
magical  power  attributed  to  them,  but  in  form  and 
origin  they  are  simply  a  prayer  addressed  to  God 
for  the  wellbeing  of  some  person  or  persons  in 
whose  presence  they  are  uttered.  They  may  be 
exemplified  from  the  benediction  of  the  Jewish 
liturgy  :  '  The  Lord  bless  thee,  and  keep  thee  ;  the 
Lord  make  his  face  to  shine  upon  thee,  and  be 
gracious  unto  thee ;  the  Lord  lift  up  his  counte- 
nance upon  thee,  and  give  thee  peace'  (Nu  6-^-"). 
In  the  NT  the  verbs  ei>Xo7£r;/  (Lk  2^*  6=»  24™)  and 
KarcuXoydv  (Mk  10"*)  denote  '  to  utter  a  benediction' 
in  this  sense. 

ciXoyuv  properly  means  to  ascribe  (to  God)  praise 
and  honour  (benedicere).  In  accordance  with  the 
usage  of  the  OT  and  NT  and  of  the  Christian 
Church,  this  act  also  is  termed  'benediction.'  It 
is  of  the  nature  of  thanks^ivinu  and  jiraise  to  God 
for  His  goodness,  and  dillcrs  c^intially  from  that 
kind  of  benediction  «lii.li  i^  a  |aa\ri 'that  Divine 
favour  may  be  slio«  u  to  tho-r  \s  l.om  the  speaker 
'blesses.'  In  tlie  XT  this  .sueuud  kind  of  benedic- 
tion is  expressed  by  iixapiardv,  'give  thanks,' as 
well  as  by  evKoyciv.  The  Jewish  custom  of  blessing 
God  on  every  possible  occasion  (see  below)  supplies 
a  probable  explanation  of  the  desigTiation  ot  God 
in  Mk  14"  6  eiXoyt^rbi,  'the  Blessed.'  It  does  not, 
however,  appear  that  this  title  was  current  in 
Jewish  literature  (Dalman,  Words  of  Jesus,  p. 
200).*  Elsewhere  in  the  NT  ciXoynrbs  is  used  as 
an  epithet  of  God  (e.g.  Lk  PS).  This  is  the  Jewish 
usage  of  ^-licn. 

The  double  sense  of  liUyiit,  just  explained,  is  due  to  the 
meaning  of  Xi5  and  the  LXX  use  of  iiXay{„.  It  has  a  third 
signification  when  God  is  the  subject,  namely  'bless,'  i.e. 
prosper.  This  also  is  a  meaning  of  -n-ig  (see  Blessing).  In  the 
Gospels  the  only  instances  of  the  third  usage  are  cases  where 
the  participle  tiAsj^fii.ot,  '  blessed,'  is  employed.    ii>.,>ym  mean- 


*  Enoch  7"!  seems  to  supply  a  parallel.    In  Bemkhoth  vii. 
(ed.  Surenhusius)  TflS^  la  an  epithet  qualifying  -JIN. 


ing  to  2)roiwwice  a  benediction  never  occurs  in  John,  but  li'/o- 
■yny-'-tsi  appears  in  Jn  1213. 

1.  Bcncdiclions  on  men. — In  Jewish  life  the 
occasions  of  pronouncing  benedictions  on  men  were 
numerous.  Besides  those  of  the  temple  and  the 
synagogue,  and  perhaps  even  older  than  these, 
were  the  salutations  customary  at  meeting  and 
parting,  entering  a  house  and  leaving  it,  which 
were  all  benedictions.  The  blessings  of  the  aged 
and  of  parents  were  specially  valued,  and  were 
often  a  part  of  the  solemn  farewell  of  the  dying. 
In  the  temple  a  benediction  was  regularly  pro- 
nounced at  the  conclusion  of  the  morning  and 
evening  sacrifices.  The  statement  in  Lk  1-'  that 
the  people  ^^•aited  for  Zacharias  may  be  an  indirect 
reference  to  this  custom.  But  the  intercessory 
benedictions  recorded  in  the  Gospels  are  chiefly  of 
the  nature  of  greetings  or  salutations  (Lk  P*"-  !■'- 
13i«=Mt  23^»=Ps  118-«').  Our  Lord  commends  to 
His  disciples  the  practice  of  saluting  a  house  when 
they  enter  it,  i.e.,  of  pronouncing  a  benediction  on 
those  resident  in  it  (Mt  10i-=Lk  10°).  The  actual 
words  of  such  a  benediction  are  given  in  Lk  10'' 
'  May  peace  rest  on  this  house '  (cf.  Lk  1*). 
Christ's  farewell  to  His  disciples  before  His  as- 
cension was  expressed  in  words  of  blessing  (Lk 
24»»'-).  It  is  to  be  understood  in  the  light  of  what 
has  already  been  said  regarding  Jewish  customs. 
Simeon's  benediction  (Lk  2")  was  that  of  an  old 
man  and  a  priest.  But  in  any  circumstances  bene- 
dictions were  appropriate  as  expressions  of  good- 
wUMcf.  Lke^SandMkU"-). 

eiXoyrifUvoi  (  =  '^n?)  in  formulas  of  blessing  may 
be  understood  to  express  a  wish,  'Blessed  be  thou.' 
This  is  clearly  the  meaning  in  Ps  llS^s  (LXX),  and 
consequently  in  Mk  lP  =  Mt  21''=Lk  1938  =  Jn  12" 
and  Mt233»  =  Lk  13=°,  wliere  the  Psalm  is  quoted. 
In  the  Gospels  KV  makes  the  phrase  a  statement, 
and  so  does  AV  except  in  Lk  ig'*  (cf.  Mk  11'"). 
There  are  similar  phrases  in  Mk  11'"  and  Lk  1*-. 
/iuKapios,  although  translated  in  the  EV  '  blessed,' 
is  not  used  in  benedictions,  and  has  a  diflerent 
meaning  (see  BLE.SSING). 

There  is  at  least  one  clear  reference  to  the  atti- 
tude adopted  in  the  act  of  benediction  (Lk  24*»). 
The  uplifting  of  the  hands  there  spoken  of  (cf. 
Lv  9")  is  not  peculiar  to  benedictions ;  according 
to  ancient  custom,  Babylonian  and  Egyptian  as 
well  as  Hebrew,  when  prayer  was  ottered  in  a 
standing  posture  the  hands  were  uplifted  or  spread 
out  (Ps  2H-,  Is  1'°  etc.).  It  is  not  equally  certain 
that  the  laying  of  hands  upon  the  children  who 
were  blessed  by  Christ  (Mk  10'«)  is  directly  con- 
nected with  the  act  of  benediction  as  such, 
although  Gn  48'^  may  be  quoted  in  support  of 
that  view.  The  request  made  to  Christ  is  that 
He  should  touch  the  children  (Mk  10'2=Lk  18'«  ; 
but  cf.  IIJMt  19'=),  and  that  is  something  ditt'erent 
from  a  request  that  He  should  bless  them  (see  Mk 
528,  and  cf.  possibly  Lk  2^8).  Mt  19'^  may  be 
regarded  as  an  interpretation  of  Mk  10'^ ;  benedic- 
tions of  persons  are  intercessory  prayers  on  their 
behalf. 

2.  Benedictions  of  God.  — The  practice  of  uttering 
benedictions  on  God  is  a  highly  characteristic  ex- 
pression of  Jewish  religious  life.  It  is  broadly 
formulated  as  a  duty  in  the  Talmud  in  the  words, 
'Whoever  benefits  from  this  world  without  (re- 
citing) a  benediction,  acts  as  if  he  robbed  God* 
{Bemkhoth.  35ri}.  Any  circumstance  or  event  which 
recalls  or  exliibitN  ( ;oil\  t^ouduess  or  power  is  an 
appropriate  u('<a-ion  tm  ■  l.l.^sing' God.  Atcircum- 
cisions,  redeiiipliiiii-  lil  iln-  lirst-born,  marriages, 
etc.,  benediction^  of  tlii-  class  were  employed 
along  with  others  imi>lun^;  hl(_>sings  on  men. 
Sometimes  unusual  rxjuii.  n<os  and  special  cir- 
cumstances called  tlieni  foilli.  Kut  the  ordinary 
routine  of  life,  and  particularly  tin;  daily  meals  of 


190 


BENEDICTIOX 


BEiSTEDICTUS 


the  family  and  the  individual,  equally  fulfil  the 
conditions  wliich  prompt  their  use.  The  Jewish 
'grace'  pronounced  at  mealtimes  was  an  act  of 
thanksgiving  to  God,  that  and  nothing  more.  Tlie 
procedure  is  described  in  the  Mishna  (Berakhoth) 
and  in  other  Jewish  sources.  Wlien  several  sat 
do\^Ti  to  a  meal  together,  one  usually  gave  thanks 
for  all,  although  each  in  certain  circumstances  was 
expected  to  do  so  for  himself.  A  company  is  said 
to  De  constituted  by  the  presence  of  three  persons. 
The  meal  commenced  with  a  benediction  and  with 
the  breaking  of  bread.  Whoever  broke  the  bread 
also  sjwke  the  benediction.  This  was  the  part  of 
the  master  of  the  house,  the  giver  of  the  feast,  or 
the  most  important  person  in  the  company.  There 
were  difterences  in  the  words  of  blessing,  accorduig 
to  the  formality  of  the  occasion  and  the  character 
of  the  dishes  that  were  served.  During  one  meal 
several  benediction.s  might  be  pronounced,  refen-ing 
to  the  various  articles  of  food  separately  (for  tlie 
ordinary  formulas  used  in  blessing  bread  and  wine, 
see  Blessing).  During  the  Passover  meal  bene- 
dictions were  pronounced  at  several  fixed  points. 
Every  meal  was  concluded  with  a  benediction.  In 
the  Passover  meal  the  last  benediction  was  six)ken 
before  the  actual  conclusion  ;  a  hymn  was  sung  at 
the  very  end. 

It  ia  not  easy  to  draw  a  line  in  principle  between  the  thanks- 
giving of  God  which  is  benediction  and  that  which  is  denoted 
by  the  word  '  praise  '  («.Vi7»).  But  there  is  a  practical  distinc- 
tion. The  use  of  special  formulas,  and  especially  of  the  word 
'n?  '  blessed'  (siXeyij/isvo,-),  is  characteristic  of  benedictions. 

There  are  only  three  references  in  the  Gospels  to 
benedictions  of  God  other  than  those  pronounced 
at  meal-times.  In  each  case  they  are  prompted 
by  unusual  manifestations  of  Divine  favour  to  the 
speakers  (Lk  1«  RV,  2=8  24").  The  actual  words  of 
benediction  are  not  recorded  in  any  case.  Lk  2'-^-^ 
is  a  prayer  supplementing  the  benediction  proper. 

Four  narratives  in  the  Gospels  allude  to  ble.ss- 
ings  pronounced  at  meal-times.  The  occasions 
are  the  miracles  of  the  feeding  of  tlie  5000  and 
of  the  4000,  the  institution  of  the  Lord's  Supper, 
and  the  evening  meal  at  Emmaus.  The  refer- 
ence in  evei-y  case  to  the  breaking  of  bread  is 
noteworthy.  It  emphasizes  the  character  of  the 
act  as  one  in  accordance  with  Jewish  custom.  The 
Jewish  formulas  of  blessin^  at  meal-times  make  it 
perfectly  certain  tliat  no  blessin"  on  the  iooA  is 
asked,  but  that  God  is  thanked  for  the  food. 
Illustrations  of  this  meaning  of  the  word  'bless' 
are  found  in  the  parallel  narratives  of  the  Gospels 
themselves.  Lk  22''  has  'give  tlianks'  (cuxapicr- 
T^ffos)  in  place  of  the  '  bless'  (ci)\or^(ras)  of  Mk  14'-'' 
a,nd  Mt26=»;  Jn  6"  has  'give  thanks'  where  the 
Synoptists  have  'bless'  (cf.  al.so  the  parallel  ex- 
pressions in  1  Co  14").  When  the  grammatical 
object  of  the  verb  is  an  article  of  food,  'bless' 
then  signifies  'pronounce  a  benediction  over,'  i.e. 
'  give  thanks  to  God  for'  the  food  in  question  (so 
Mk  8'  and  Lk  9'^).  The  same  construction  occurs 
in  the  OT  (1  S  9^),  (in  the  Mishna  Sh  rvi  is  jjener- 
ally  u.sed).  Christ's  blessing  of  the  elements  m  the 
institution  of  the  Lord's  Supper  should  no  doubt  be 
understood  in  the  light  of  tliese  facts. 

The  only  other  passage  in  the  NT  where  a  material  object 
is  said  to  be  blessed  is  1  Co  1016,  and  it  really  belongs  to  the 
category  just  explained.  The  expression  '  cup  .  .  .  which  we 
bless '  means  simply  '  cup  for  which  we  give  thanks,'  over  which 
we  pronounce  our  benediction.  In  Jewish  phraseology  material 
objects  may  be  consecrated  or  hallowed,  uut  they  cannot  be 
said  in  the  same  sense  to  be  blessed. 

Mk  G'"  (and  so  the  parallels)  speaks  of  Christ 
looking  up  to  the  sky,  and  implies,  no  doubt,  iu 
accordance  with  the  circumstances,  that  He  stood 
wliile  He  offered  His  prayer  of  thanksgiving.  But 
the  ordinary  Jewish  practice  seems  to  have  been 
to  sit  while  grace  was  being  said.  In  Jn  6=^  it  is 
not  obvious  at  first  sight  why  the  words  '  when  the 


Lord  gave  thanks'  liave  been  added.  Perhaps 
they  were  intended  to  mean  'when  the  Lord  was 
giver  of  the  feast.'  The  statement  in  Lk  24**  that 
the  risen  Christ  was  recognized  in  tlie  breaking  of 
bread  seems  to  imply  that  the  disciples  were 
familiar  with  the  manner  in  which  He  acted  on 
such  occasions,  and  that  there  was  something 
peculiar  or  characteristic  in  the  procedure  which 
He  followed.  Doubtless  the  act  as  He  performed 
it  was  always  deliberate  and  impressive. 

The  application  of  the  word  evKoy^iv  to  meals  ia 
common  to  the  Synoptists,  but  St.  Matthew  (15") 
and  St.  Luke  (22'^)  both  substitute  on  one  occasion 
evxapiiTTdv  for  St.  Mark's  eiXoyeiv  (8'  14~).  ei;Xo7eri' 
with  God  as  explicit  object  occurs  in  St.  Luke  only 
(pu  2=8  2453).  St.  John  does  not  use  the  word  at  all 
in  this  sense  (see  6"  and  cf.  also  ll*"). 

LiTEr..4Ti:RE.— Sectheauthoriti28citedatcnd  of  art.  Blbssiso. 

W.  B  Stevenson 
BENEDICTUS.-The  Song  of  Zacharias  (wh. 
see),  preserved  in  Lk  I^s-ts^  jg  usually  spoken  of 
under  the  name  familiar  to  us  in  the  offices  of  tlie 
Churcli — a  name  derived  from  its  opening  word  in 
the  Latin  version.  St  Luke  introduces  it  immedi- 
ately after  his  narrative  of  the  circumcision  and 
naming  of  the  future  Baptist,  with  the  copulative 
and,  in  these  terms :  '  And  his  father  Zacharias 
was  filled  with  the  Holy  Ghost,  and  prophesied, 
saying'  (v.^)  But  while  he  thus  asserts  the 
author's  inspiration,  and  claims  the  Song  as  an 
outcome  thereof,  it  does  not  follow  either  that  the 
Holy  Ghost  came  on  Zacharias  then  and  there, — He 
may  have  rested  on  him  during  the  whole  period 
of  his  miraculous  dtimbness,  teaching  him  in  that 
ijenitential  silence,  and  bringing  to  his  remem- 
brance the  dealings  and  promises  of  God, — or  that 
the  Song  was  extempore  (it  was  whUe  the  old 
psalmist  was  musing,  that  the  fire  burned,  Ps  39'). 
Zacharias  may  have  had  it  ready  for  the  long 
anticipated  moment ;  may  have  recited  it  then,  and 
written  it  af tenvards 

Nor,  again,  does  the  fullest  acceptance  of  its 
inspiration  as  a  fact  forbid  that  it  should  bear  the 
marks  of  the  time  at  which  it  was  composed,  and 
of  the  feelings  of  devout  Israelites  under  the  trials 
of  their  age.  The  Holy  Spirit  speaks  through  men, 
not  through  pipes.  Their  character,  proved  and 
purified  by  calamities,— public  as  well  as  private, — 
IS  of  no  small  importance  to  Him  They  were  '  holy 
men  of  God,'  who  '  spake  as  they  were  moved  by  the 
Holy  Ghost'  (2  P  1=').  Zacharias  was  an  old  man 
(Lk  1'8) ;  he  might  easily  remember  the  capture  of 
Jerusalem  bj'  Pompey  (B.C.  63),  and  his  pushing 
fonvard,  like  Antiochus  Epiphanes,  into  the  Holy 
of  Holies.  There  were  chief  priests  who  '  opened 
the  gates '  to  the  heathen  conqueror  as  '  sous  to 
receive  a  father '  ( Ps-Sol  S'^^") ;  but  anion"  the  min- 
istering priesthood  there  tlien  lived  (as  tliere  still 
survived  iu  Zacharias  himself)  a  piety  so  genuine 
and  fearless  that,  when  the  victorious  Romans 
burst  into  the  Temple  courts,  the  officiating  priests 
went  on  with  the  .service  as  if  nothing  unusual 
were  happening,  and  suft'ered  themselves  to  be  cut 
down  at  tlieir  posts.  That  awful  day  was  the  end 
of  Jewish  independence.  Zacharias  had  lived 
through  all  the  shame  that  followed,  and  tlie 
further  Roman  outrages  of  Crassus,  who  robbed 
the  Temple  (B.C.  54),  and  of  Cassius,  who  sold 
30,000  Jews  into  captivity  (B.C.  51).  The  usurpa- 
tions, the  feuds,  the  subserviences  to  Herod  and 
the  Romans,  the  Sadducean  unbelief  of  the  high- 
jfriestly  families,  the  immoralities  which  disgraced 
them, — must  aU  have  been  fresh  in  his  recollection, 
and  may  well  have  led  him,  as  these  things  led  the 
more  quiet  and  relipous  Pharisees  around  him,  to 
turn  back  for  comfort  to  the  Divine  promise  to 
Da\'id  and  his  seed  for  evermore. 

That  such  a  terrible  state  of  things  should  have 


BENEDICTUS 


BENEDICTUS 


deeply  afi'ected  Zacharias  was  as  right  as  it  was 
natural.  That  it  wrought  within  him  affections 
altogether  good  and  holy  is  just  a  sign  that  it  was 
the  Spirit  of  Christ  who  taught  him  by  them.  The 
book  alreadjf  referred  to,  the  Psalter  (or  Psalms) 
of  Solomon,  is  the  nearest  Jewish  work  in  point  of 
time  to  the  Bcncdktiis  and  its  fellows  in  the  first 
two  chapters  of  St.  Luke :  it  is  also  the  likest  to 
them  in  style  and  character.  Like  these  Songs,  the 
Psalms  of  Solomon  are  a  proof  that  sacred  poetry, 
so  far  from  being  extinct  among  the  Jews  at  this 
period,  was  living,  and  was  being  made  the  vehicle 
of  intense.st  religious  feeling.  Nor  are  these 
Psalms  deficient  in  merit.  They  are  forceful, 
vivid,  full  of  noble  indignation  against  Roman 
oppression  and  Jewish  secularity  alike,  of  shame 
for  'the  draggled  purples'  of  the  Hasmonsean 
princes,  of  acknowledgments  that  God  is  justified 
in  His  chastening  of  Israel.  They  look,  like  the 
Benedictus,  for  a  Messiah  of  the  House  of  David. 
They  assign  to  Him  the  double  work  of  '  thrusting ' 
sinners  out  of  the  holy  place,  '  purging  Jerusalem 
and  making  it  holy  as  in  the  days  of  old,'  and  of 
avenging  her  upon  the  Romans.  But  with  all  this, 
they  lack  the  characteristic  elements  of  evangelical 
prophecy.  They  have  little  insight  and  less  fore- 
sight. They  emanated  from  the  better  sort  of 
Pharisees,  and  they  betray  all  the  elements  of 
Pharisaism  as  we  see  it  m  the  Gospels.  The 
Messiah  they  expect  is  purely  human  (cf.  our 
Lord's  contention  on  this  point  with  the  Pharisees, 
Mt  22«-«  Mk  1235-3',  Lk  203^;").  Their  idea  of 
God's  salvation  is  political  mainly :  vengeance  on 
their  enemies  rather  than  undisturbed  devotion  is 
the  thing  they  long  for.  The  whole  tone  of  the 
book  is  tierce,  narrow,  separatist,  self-righteous.  • 
The  Benedictus,  on  the  other  hand,  is  in  its  closing 
notes  very  strikingly  predictive :  the  father  fore- 
tells, with  proud  exactness,  the  future  ministry  of 
his  infant  son.  Even  had  this  element  been 
wanting,  the  Song  is  in  the  truest  sense  a  prophecy, 
for  it  discerns  the  spiritual  nature  of  (Jlirist's 
kingdom  with  a  clearness  unknown  even  to  the 
Apostles  after  Christ  had  been  some  time  with 
them.  It  tells  of  'salvation  in  the  remission  of 
sins'  (v."  RV)  through  the  mercy  of  God  (v.",  cf. 
Tit  3^)  in  Christ  (v.^s),  of  human  need  and  darkness, 
of  reconciliation  to  life  and  peace,  and  of  the  wor- 
ship of  God  without  fear  (cf.  1  Jn  4'")  as  its  climax 
(v.'*).  There  is  deliverance  from  every  enemy,  not 
from  the  Romans  only,  but  no  hint  of  revenue 
uiwn  them.  The  tone  of  the  Sonj;  is  eminently 
gentle.  The  salvation  is  from  Goci,  according  to 
His  promise  by  the  mouth  of  all  His  holy  prophets 
from  the  beginning  of  the  world  ;  it  ei'ubraces  in 
its  range  our  fathers  (v.'-)  who  are  gone,  as  well  as 
the  living  (cf.  1  P  2'",  and  Rev  6") ;  and  is  all  given 
us  through  and  in  the  Horn  of  Salvation,  whom 
God  has  raised  up  'in  the  house  of  his  servant 
David'  (v.«'),  inileed,  but  who  Himself  is  'the 
Most  High,'  and  'the  Lord'  (v.'«),  and  'the  Day- 
spring  from  on  High  '—not  rising  gradually  as  does 
Nature's  dawn,  but  bursting,  as  it  were,  upon  our 
wondering  eyes,  full-orbed  from  the  zenith  (v.'*). 
It  is  very  remarkable  how  subordinate  to  Him  who 
is  the  subject  of  his  Song  is  the  position  assigned 
by  Zacharias  to  his  own  miraculously-born  child. 
Even  while  he  predicts  John's  office,  it  is  in  con- 
trast with  the  gi-eater  dignity  of  the  Redeemer. 
Alford  justly  remarks  that  the  Benedictus  '  shows 
the  exact  religioiis  view  under  which  John  was 
educated  by  his  father.'  The  fruit  may  be  seen  in 
all  that  is  recorded  of  the  Baptist  (cf.  Mt  3'-  "•  ''■' 
IV\  Mk  11-8,  Lk  3^-",  Jn  l'- »■  is. i9-m  3io)_  it  jg 
abundantly  clear  that  the  Song  was  composed  in 
the  light  Doth  of  the  Annunciation  made  to  the 
Virgin  Mary  (Lk  !*>-='»)  and  of  the  inspired  .saluta- 
tion wherewith  she  was  greeted  by  Elisabeth  (v."). 


The  Benedictus  is  thus  emphatically  a  '  Hymn  of 
the  Incarnation  ' — '  Cantiwim  de  Evangelio,'  as  the 
Antiphonary  of  Bangor  styles  it. 

It  differs  from  the  other  hymns  in  these  two 
chapters  of  St.  Luke  mainly  in  this,  that  whereas 
the  Magnificat  (St.  Mary's  Song)  is  of  Christ's 
kingship,  whereby  He  casts  down  the  proud  and 
exalts  the  humble,  and  the  Nunc  dinnttis  (Sim- 
eon's) is  of  His  prophetic  or  enlightening  office,  the 
Benedictus,  as  beseems  the  song  of  the  blameless 
priest,  is  of  Christ's  priesthood.  It  is  ])riestly 
throughout ;  it  begins  with  blessing  and  ends  witli 
peace.  The  work  of  the  Deliverer  is  remission  of 
sins  and  reconciliation  with  God,  and  its  culmina- 
tion is  seen  in  a  people  of  priests  '  serving  God  {i.e. 
worshipping  Him — Xarpeinv,  same  word  as  in  Rev 
22")  in  holiness  and  righteousness  before  him  all  the 
days  of  their  life.'  It  is  evident  that  Zacharias 
has  in  his  mind  the  history  of  Melchizedek  (Gn  14) 
and  the  oracle,  even  then  ascribed  to  the  pen  of 
David,  Avhich  forms  so  important  a  commentary  on 
that  history  (Ps  110). 

The  '  sources '  of  the  Song,  as  of  the  two  chapter.s 
of  which  it  forms  an  integral  part,  will  be  discussed 
in  art.  Luke  (Gospel  of).  It  may  be  mentioned 
here  that  the  text  of  the  Benedictus  varies  little 
either  in  MSS  or  Versions.  The  one  reading  which 
exhibits  an  important  difference  from  that  of  the 
Textus  Beceptus  is  in  v.™,  where  a  future  tense 
takes  the  place  of  a  past.  This  has  been  adopted 
in  the  RV,  but  with  a  marginal  note,  '  Many  ancient 
authorities  read  hath  visited  us.' 

The  structure  of  the  Benedictus  is  simple.  It 
consists  of  three  stanzas — the  first  (vv.''*-™)  setting 
forth  the  fact  of  God's  interposition  in  the  approach- 
ing birth  of  the  long-looked-for  Saviour ;  the  second 
(vv.'1"'»)  telling  the  purpose  of  His  incarnation : 
and  the  third  (vv.™-™)  an  ai)ostrophe  to  Zacharias' 
babe,  declaring  his  office  as  the  forerunner  of  Christ. 

The  references  in  the  hymn  are  marvellous  alike 
in  their  number,  ran^e,  and  depth.  The  ojiening 
words  remind  us  of  Uie  opening  of  Melchizedek's 
adcb-ess  to  Abram  (Gn  14) ;  '  visited  and  redeemed,' 
of  Israel's  deliverance  from  Egypt  (Ex  4^1  6") ;  the 
'  Horn  of  Salvation,'  of  Hannah's  Song  at  the 
beginning  of  the  story  of  the  kings  (1  S  2") ;  'in 
the  house  of  David '  is  from  1  Ch  17*  ;  in  '  from  the 
berinning  of  the  world,'  air'  alwvos,  we  have  pos- 
sibWan  allusion  to  the  Protevangelium  (Gn  31') ;  in 
'  in  holiness '  we  may  see  reference  to  Ps  1 10"  ;  whUe 
the  Baptist's  mission  is  described  by  quotation 
from  Is  40^.  Nor  is  the  opinion  of  Bishop  Words- 
worth, accepted  somewhat  grudgingly  by  Alford, 
to  be  dismissed  as  fanciful,  that  in  vv','=- "  there  is 
a  paronomasia  on  the  three  names  of  the  parties 
chiefly  concerned  with  the  Baptist's  birth.  The 
iVAme  olJohnhoA  been  fi.xed  by  the  Angel  (v.i^); 
Zacharias  knew  that  it  must  be  significant,  and  it 
means  '  the  grace  or  mercy  of  God,'  Aeos.  He  could 
hardly  helj]  reflecting  that  his  own  name  Zacharias 
(from  nji  recordatus  fuit,  and  n;  Jah  (Jehovah), 
means  flcAs  i/ivqcrdri ;  while  Elisabeth  (from  Sn  Deus, 
and  yj^  shaba  juravit)  is  just  S/jkos  Beov.  He  puts 
all  these  together.  '.  .  .  The  tender  nwrcy  of  our 
God  ...  in  remembrance  of  his  holy  covenant 
.  .  .  the  oath  which  he  sware.'  If  tlie  parono- 
masia as  a  literary  figure  is  out  of  fashion  for  the 
moment,  we  may  remember  that  neither  Dante  nor 
Shakespeare  thought  it  beneath  their  genius  ;  and 
Zacharias  had  .sacred  precedents  for  employing  it 
in  the  histories  of  the  births  and  blessings  of  the 
twelve  patriarchs  (Gn  30  and  49),  and  still  more 
strikingly  in  Is  7  and  8,  where,  as  Matthew  Arnold 
has  observed,  the  significant  names  are  the  keynote 
of  the  whole  prophecy, 

Literature.— Plummer,  'St.  Luke"  (Inlemal.  Crit.  Covi.), 
38  ff.  ;  Godet,  Com.  on  St.  Luke,  i.  110  £f.;  Wilkinson,  Jvhan. 
Doomnenl  in  Lk  L,  p.  17.  JAMES  CoOPER. 


1^2 


BENEFACTOR 


BETHABARA 


BENEFACTOR  {evepyiT7i!).—A  title  conferred  by 
a  grateful  sovereign  or  country  for  useful  service 
rendered,  often  in  time  of  diiiiculty  or  danger  (Est 
oi3  g2)  -pi^g  jiames  of  royal  benefactors  were  en- 
rolled in  a  register  (Herod,  viii.  85,  where  see 
Rawlinson'a  note ;  Thuc.  i.  129).  In  the  Persian 
tongue  tlie  king's  benefactors  enjoyed  a  special 
title,  possibly  implying  that  their  names  were 
recorded.  Besides  the  special  appellation  given  to 
all  who  had  done  public  service,  the  title  '  bene- 
factor' is  occasionally  mentioned  as  a  perpetual 
epithet  of  kings,  merely  enhancing  their  dignity. 
So  Antiochus  VII.  of  Syria,  Ptolemy  III.  of  Egypt, 
and  at  a  later  period  Ptolemy  VII.  (B.C.  145-117), 
were  called  benefactors.  It  is  evidently  this  latter, 
complimentary  or  official,  title  to  which  our  Lord 
chiefly  alludes  in  Lk  22^,  and  so  RV  rightly  spells 
with  a  capital,  'Benefactors.'  In  worldly  societies 
men  reign  in  virtue  of  superior  power,  and  Evepy^rri!, 
'Benefactor,'  i.s  a  title  of  flattery  which  may  be 
applied  to  the  most  cruel  despot — a.s  in  the  case  of 
Ptolemy  VII.,  otherwise  known  as  Physcon  ('Big- 
Belly'),  and  also  called  KaKipyirris  by  a  play  vipon 
his  official  designation.  But  in  this  new  society 
which  Jesus  is  institutin",  the  greatest  is  to  be  as 
the  least,  and  he  that  Ls  chief  as  he  that  doth  serve. 
And  this  after  the  e.xample  of  the  Lord  Himself, 
who,  being  the  tnie  Ei)ep7^T7;s,  'came  not  to  be 
ministered  unto,  but  to  niuiLster,  and  to  give  his 
life  a  ransom  for  many'  (see  the  parallel  jjas-sage 
Mt  20^'^,  and  cf.  the  iiirip  vfiQv  Sidiiievov,  iirip  i/iCoi' 
(Kxwvoixtvov  which  Jesus  had  just  spoken  at  the 
Last  Supper  [Lk  22^^-  =»]). 

'    T>B,  art.   'Benefactor';   Comm.  of 
!.;  Smith,  Classical  Diet,  art.  'Ptole- 
ni»us.  C.  H.  Peichard. 

BENEVOLENCE.  —  The  disposition  which  .sets 
itself  to  desire  steadfastly  the  welfareand  happiness 
of  others.  Christian  benevolence  is  this  disposi- 
tion of  heart  informed  by  tlie  e.xample  and  pre- 
cept of  Christ,  this  informing  of  the  heart  being 
the  work  of  His  Holy  Spirit.  Continual  active 
benevolence  is  perhaps  the  most  striking  feature 
in  the  whole  of  the  Gospel  records.  It  is  the  key- 
note of  the  Sermon  on  tlie  Mount,  and  merges  into 
the  harmony  of  love  in  the  final  discourses  re- 
corded in  the  Fourth  Gospel.  The  sons  of  the  Most 
High  are  to  do  good  to  their  enemies  as  well  as 
to  their  friends  (Lk  6^).  The  sons  of  the  Father 
ivhich  is  in  heaven  are  to  be  kindly  disposed  and 
actively  beneficent  both  to  the  just  and  to  the  un- 
just (Mt  5*^).  And  this  benevolence,  which  is  to 
reign  in  the  hearts  of  His  disciples,  must  have  been 
included  in  that  ^eat  last  prayer  (Ju  17-°)  that 
'the  love  wherewith  thou  lovedst  me  may  be  in 
them.'  A  simple  rule  is  given  to  the  follower  of 
Christ  for  securing  and  testing  this  attitude  of 
benevolence  :  'All  things  whatsoever  ye  would  that 
men  should  do  unto  you,  even  so  do  ye  also  unto 
them '  (Mt  7'-).  The  Divine  image  is  not  so  marred 
in  any  man  as  to  destroy  the  intention  and  desire 
to  do  good  to  relations  and  friends  (Mt  5'"'  7",  Lk 
g33  1113)^  hut  the  benevolence  of  the  Christian  heart 
is  to  be  a  kindly  feeling  towards  all  without  ex- 
ception ( Mt  5«,  Lk  6"-  ^).  There  is  to  be  no  single 
blot  on  the  escutcheon  ;  Christians  are  to  be  7^0-- 
fect,  as  their  Heavenly  Father  is  perfect  (Mt  5^"). 
Natural  benevolence  expresses  itself  in  the  ex- 
clamation of  those  who  heard  of  the  fate  of  the 
wicked  liusbandnien  in  the  parable,  'God  forbid' 
(Lk  20'°).  Christian  benevolence  meets  us  in  the 
story  of  the  arrest  in  Gethsemane,  when  tlie  Lord 
addressed  His  betrayer  as  '  comrade '  (froipe,  Mt 
'26="). 

Such  being  the  intensive  character,  the  exten- 
sive character  of  benevolence  may  he  observed  in 
Christ's  conipaseiuu  on  the  multitudes  (Mk  8^  Mt 


U"),  namely,  on  each  individual ;  and,  again,  in 
His  healing  every  one  of  those  around  Him  on  a 
well-known  occasion  at  Capernaum  (Lk  4^°).  By 
precept  as  well  as  by  example  benevolence  is  en- 
joined upon  the  ministry  in  the  first  commission 
to  the  Twelve :  '  Freely  ye  have  received,  freely 
give'  (Mt  10").  Not  least  beautiful  and  consoling 
is  the  assurance  that  it  prevails  in  the  angelic 
spheres,  even  towards  poor  sinners  (Lk  15'' '"). 

Literature.— Hastings'  DB,  art.  '  Love ' ;  Butler,  Sertnom 
xi.  xii.  ;  Newman,  Oxjord  Univ.  Sermons,  p.  104  ff. ;  Schulhof, 
Law  of  Forgiveness  (1901),  121  ff. 

W.  B.  Frankland. 

BETHABARA  (n-jiy,  n'3  'house  of  the  ford  or 
crossing').— The  name  is  found  in  the  New  Testa- 
ment only  in  Jn  1'-"  (AV):  'These  things  were 
done  in  Bethabara  beyond  Jordan,  where  John 
was  baptizing.'  The  place  was,  therefore,  one 
suitable  for  the  purposes  of  the  Baptist  in  preach- 
ing and  baptizing  ;  and  it  has  been  usually  identi- 
fied, though  this  IS  not  precisely  stated  in  the  text, 
with  the  scene  of  the  baptism  of  our  Lord. 

'With  the  great  majority  of  Gr.  MSS  (including 
N*ABC*)  the  RV  has  retained  here  the  reading 
'  Bethany,'  ^vith  marginal  alternatives  '  Betli- 
abarah '  and  'Betharahah.'  The  latter  (njnj;  n-g 
'  house  of  the  prairie,'  cf.  Is  40^  ct  al.  ;  or  '  house  of 
the  Arabah  or  Jordan  Valley,'  cf.  Dt  1';  or  perhaj)s 
'  house  of  the  poplar,'  cf.  0-31^^  hni  Is  15')  is 
possibly  a  reminiscence  of  the  Beth- arabah  of 
Jos  IS"'"  in  the  plain  of  Jericho,  or  it  may  be  due 
merely  to  an  accidental  transposition  of  letters. 
The  form  '  Bethabara,'  on  the  other  hand,  is  found 
in  a  few  extant  manuscripts  of  the  Greek  text, 
both  uncial  and  cursive,  and  in  the  Curetonian 
and  Sinaitic  Syriac.  Origen  adopted  this  reading, 
and  it  seems  to  have  gained  general  currency 
mainly  on  his  authority.  He  writes  {in  Evang. 
Joannis,  vi.  24)  that  Bethany  is  found  in  almost 
all  copies  and  in  Heracleon,  but  after  personal 
investigation  of  the  district  (yevbixevoi  iv  Tois  riTrois 
iwl  laropiav  tOiv  ixvSiv  'Ii/o-oD  hoX  tC>v  ixaB-qrwv  aurov)  he 
jjrefers  'Bethabara'  on  the  twofold  ground  of  the 
distance  of  Bethany,  the  country  of  Lazarus  and 
Martha  and  Mary,  from  the  .fordan,  and  of  the 
non-existence  of  any  place  bearing  the  latter  name 
within  the  Jordan  Valley.  He  further  reports 
(\tyovin)  a  place  ^T)0apa.  where  he  had  been  told 
(IdTopoxiai)  that  John  baptized,  and  says  that  the 
word  means  oikos  AaTa<r),eii?s  (possibly  a  confusion 
with  n-iij;,  cf.  LXX  in  Ex  35-^),  Bethany  bein^  oikos 
vraKorjs,  adding  a  play  upon  the  name  as  befitting 
the  spot  where  the  messenger  sent  to  prepare  {Kara- 
ffKEudfeii',  Mt  11")  tlio  way  of  tlie  Lord  should 
baptize. 

Origen's  view,  therefore,  was  mainly  a  priori, 
and  it  has  seemed  worth  while  to  set  it  out  at 
length,  because  later  writers,  as  Epiphanius,  Cliry- 


•ostom,  et  al.,  apparently  adopt  and  repeat  it  with 
more  or  less  amplification ;  nor  is  it  easy  to  decide 
how  much  weight  is  due  to  additional  details  they 


may  give.  According  to  Chrysostom,  for  instance, 
the  more  accurate  copies  read  '  Bethabara,'  a  result 
tliat  might  readily  be  conceived  to  follow  from 
Origen's  criticism  ;  and  he  adds  that  Bethany  was 
neither  across  the  Jordan  nor  in  the  wilderness,  but 
near  Jerusalem.  *  The  ancient  writers  do  not  seem 
to  take  into  account  the  possibility  of  the  names 
occurring  more  than  once  in  Palestine.  It  is  clear, 
however,  that  either  '  Bethany '  or  '  Bethabara ' 
would  lend  itself  readily  to  duplication. 

The  only  indication  of  position  which  the  narra- 
tive itself  gives  is  in  the  phrase  iripav  roO  'lopddvov, 
'  across  (i.e.  east  of)  the  Jordan.'  And  if  Bethabara 
or  Bethany  is  the  scene  of  the  Baptism,  then  it 
tile  riglit  reading 


BETHANY 


EETHESDA 


193 


would  seem  that  the  site  must  be  looked  for  in  the 
northern  part  of  the  Jordan  Valley,  since  Christ 
comes  hither  apparently  direct  from  Galilee  (Mt  3", 
Mk  1').  Conder  finds  all  the  necessary  conditions 
satisfied  by  a  ford  'Abdrah  on  the  Jordan  E.N.E. 
of  Beisdn,  and  at  a  distance  of  four  or  five  miles 
from  the  latter  place ;  and  he  explains  the  name 
'Bethany'  as  equivalent  to  Batanea,  Basanitis, 
or  Bashan,  the  district  immediately  east  of  the 
Jordan,  south  and  south-east  of  the  Sea  of  Galilee 
(see  C.  R.  Conder  in  Pal.  Expl.  Fxmd  Mem.  ii. 
p.  89 f..  Quart.  Statement,  1875,  p.  72,  Handbook  to 
tlicBlble,  p.  319f.  ;  Hastings'  DB,  art.  'Bethabara'). 

Bethabara  has  also  been  supposed  to  be  the  same 
as  the  Beth-barah  (nn?  n'3,  LXX  Batfl>)pd,  of  Jg  1^) 
which  lay  on  or  near  the  .Ionian.  This  is  on  the 
assumption  that  a  guttural  has  been  accidentally 
lost  from  the  Hebrew  text,  and  that  we  ought 
to  read  n-a-l  n-a.  Dr.  Sanday  (Sacred  Sites  of 
the  Gospels,  p.  23)  accepts  the  identification  with 
'AbArah.  But  beyond  the  coincidence  of  the  name, 
on  which  much  stress  cannot  be  laid,  there  is  no 
direct  evidence  in  its  favour ;  and  the  indirect 
evidence  is  slight.  The  inference,  moreover,  which 
has  been  drawn  from  Jn  2',  that  Bethabara  or 
Bethany  lay  not  more  than  a  day's  journey  from 
Cana  of  Galilee,  is  precarious.  The  marriage  fes- 
tivities at  Cana  would  in  all  probability  extend 
over  several  days,  towards  the  close  of  which  the 
supply  of  wine  failed :  and  the  language  used  is 
perhaps  intended  to  convey  that  Christ  and  His 
disciples  were  not  present  at  the  beginning.  (See 
on  the  prolongation  of  the  ceremonies  attendant 
on  an  Eastern  wedding,  P.  Baldensperger,  'Woman 
intheEast'inP.Bi^'^it,  1900  p.  181ff.,  1901  p.  173 ff.; 
H.  B.  Tristram,  Eastern  Customs  in  Bible  Lands, 
eh.  v.). 

The  traditional  site  of  the  baptism  of  Christ 
at  MakhAdet  Hajlah  in  the  Jordan  Valley  near 
Jericho,  though  defended  by  Sir  Charles  Wilson 
and  others,  seems  to  be  too  far  south.  Others 
would  read,  by  conjecture,  in  the  text  of  St.  John's 
Gospel,  Bridapa^pd,  i.e.  Beth-nimrah,  on  the  Wddy 
Shaib,  five  miles  east  of  the  Jordan,  E.N.E.  from 
Jericho  (see  T.  K.  Cheyne  in  Encyc.  Bibl.  s.rr.). 


and  add  Smith's  DD'^ 


361  f .  and  note  ; 


p.  310 ;  Farrar,  Li/e  of  Clir 
Christ,  i.  p. 
JesiM  the  Messiah,  i.  pp.  264, 
Christ,  i.  388,  and  Holy  Land  . 
Sacred  Sites  of  the  Gospels,  11, 
and  the  Commentaries  on  Jn  1 


•  uhI  Words  0/ 
-7  ;  Sanday, 
,  11II13,  p.  161; 

Geden. 


BETHANY  (B^Sa^/a).  —  1.  A  village  whose  in- 
terest arises  mainly  from  its  having  been  the 
residence  of  Lazarus,  Martlia  and  Mary.  As  to 
this  it  is  well  to  note  the  following  points.  (1)  None 
of  the  three  Synoptists  mentions  Lazarus.  (2)  St. 
Matthew  and  St.  Mark  maintain  the  same  silence 
as  to  Martha  and  Mary.  (3)  St.  Luke  (lO^s-^) 
records  a  sojourn  of  Jesus  in  '  a  village  '  (Kii/ii;  ris), 
which  he  leaves  unnamed.  (4)  St.  John  alone 
(IP- '"  12^i^-)  names  Bethany  as  the  place  where  the 
brother  and  the  two  sisters  lived.  (5)  St.  Matthew 
and  St.  Mark  state  that  Bethany  afforded  hospi- 
tality to  Jesus  during  the  days  that  preceded  His 
death  (Mt21"'^-,  Mk  11"^) ;  but  in  connexion  with 
His  stay  there  they  make  mention  only  of  the 
house  of  'Simon  the  leper'  (Mt  26'»f-,  Mk  W-), 
and  give  no  name  to  the  woman  who  anoints  the 
feet  of  the  Lord.  (G)  St.  Luke  does  not  speak  of 
this  sojourn  at  Bethany,  but  simply  says  in  a  more 
general  way  that  Jesus  passed  the  night  'at  the 
mount  called  the  Mt.  of  Olives'  (21").  (7)  The 
data  usually  accepted  regarding  Bethany  and  tlie 
family  that  lived  there  and  entertained  Jesus  in 
their  house,  are  thus  derived  essentially  from  the 
Fourth  Gospel. 
VOL.  I.— 13 


Bethany  is  mentioned  neither  in  the  Canonical 
books  nor  in  the  Apocrypha  of  the  OT  ;  it  makes 
its  appearance  for  the  first  time  in  the  NT,  and  is 
not  named  in  Josephus.  Its  situation  is  relatively 
easy  to  determine.  Weknow(Mk  IC^U',  Lkl9'--*) 
that  it  was  on  the  road  from  Jericho  to  Jerusalem, 
at  a  distance  of  15  furlongs  from  the  latter  (Jn  11'*), 
lyin^  thus  on  the  E.  or  rather  S.E.  side  of  the  Mt. 
of  Olives.  Origen  asserts  that  in  his  time  the  posi- 
tion of  Bethany  was  known.  In  the  4th  cent,  the 
Bordeau.x  Pilgrim  (333)  mentions  a  place  where 
the  '  crypta '  of  Lazarus  was  to  be  seen.  Eusebius 
records  that  'the  place  of  Lazarus'  was  shown, 
and  Jerome  adds  that  it  was  2  miles  from  Jeru- 
salem (OS'^  108.  3,  239.  10).  According  to  Niceph. 
Callist.  (HE  viii.  30  [Pair.  Gr.  cxlvi.  113]),  a  church 
containing  the  tomb  of  Lazarus  was  built  by  tlie 
empress  Helena.  Another  sanctu.ary  marked  the 
spot  where  Je.sus  met  Mary  (Jn  ll-""-).  A  number 
of  ecclesiastical  buildings  have  risen  at  Bethany ; 
as  many  as  three  churches  have  been  counted  there. 
In  its  present  condition  it  is  a  village  without  im- 
portance or  interest,  with  a  population  of  about 
200.  It  bears  the  name  el-  Azaritjek,  defned  from 
'Lazarus'  or  from  'Lazarium'  (Aafapioi/),  a  form 
found  as  early  as  the  Pilgrimage  of  Silvia  (383) ; 
the  initial  L  has  been  taken  for  the  Arab,  article. 

According  to  the  Talmud,  Bethanij  is  =  Aram. 
Beth-Aineh  or  Beth-Hini,  '  place  of  dates'  (?) ;  but 
this  etymology  is  uncertain.  The  same  may  be 
said  of  that  which  traces  it  to  the  root  niy,  and 
would  yield  the  sense  of  '  place  of  affliction '  or 
'  place  of  the  afflicted  one,'  whieli  may  be  simply  a 
popular  etymology  (cf.  Nestle,  Philologica  Sacra, 
1896,  p.  20). 

The  buildings  which  are  shown  at  the  present 
day  as  possessing  a  historical  interest  are— 1.  The 
'  castle '  of  Lazarus,  a  tower  which  dates  from  the 
time  of  the  Crusades,  and  was  probably  built  in 
1147  by  Queen  Melissenda  for  the  Benedictine 
nuns ;  according  to  others,  its  construction  is  still 
earlier.  "The  name  'castle'  is  explained  by  the 
fact  that  the  Vulgate  renders  the  NT  ki!i/j.v  by  cas- 
tdlum..  2.  The  tomb  of  Lazarus  is  shown  to 
iiiiiiliTu  pilurims,  but  its  genuineness  is  so  doubtful 
that  it  is  (|uestioned  even  by  Koman  Catholic 
wiilrrs,  r.(j.  Mgr.  Le  Camus,  bishop  of  La  Rochelle 
(Nulrc  Voyage  aux pays  bibliques,i.  245).  3.  There 
are  still  shown — or  there  used  to  be  shown — at  cl- 
'Azariyeh  the  house  of  Martha,  that  of  Mary,  and 
that  of  Simon  the  leper. 

In  Lk  24™  the  scene  of  the  Ascension  is  placed, 
if  not  at  Bethany,  at  least  in  its  immediate 
vicinity  :  '  He  led  tliem  t'ws  -rpis  BTidaflav  '  (AV  'as 
far  as  to  Bethany,'  RV  less  satisfactorily,  'until 
they  were  over  against  Bethany').  On  the  other 
hand,  Ac  1'^  relates  that  after  the  Ascension  the 
Apostles  'returned  unto  Jerusalem  from  the  mount 
called  Olivet,  which  is  nigh  unto  Jerusalem,  a 
Sabbath  day's  journey  oft'.'  The  statement  in 
Luke's  Gospel  deserves  the  preference  ;  it  fixes  the 
place  of  the  Ascension  itself  near  Bethany,  wliile 
the  text  of  Acts  simply  connects  the  return  of  the 
Apostles  with  the  Mt.  of  Olives,  on  the  slope  of 
which  Bethany  lies,  and  does  not  speak  necessarily 
of  the  summit  of  the  mountain",  as  ecclesiastical 
tradition  supposed  (cf.  Tobler,  Die  Siloah<iuelk 
und  der  Oelberg,  p.  83). 

LiTERATDRE.— Robinson,  SnP^  i.  431^33 ;  Guirin,  Palestine, 


LUCIEN  Gautier. 


BETHANY.— 2.  See  Bethabara. 


EETHESDA.- Jn  5^  '  Now  there  is  in  Jeru.salem 
by  the  sheep-ga^e  (iirl  rrj  wpo^ariKji)  a  pool,  which  is 
called  iu  Hebrew  Bethesda,  having  live  porches' 


194 


BETHESDA 


BETHESDA 


(RV).  Instead  of  BTjeeo-Si  (TK),  the  most  ancient 
authorities  have  other  spellings,  as  X  BijeiaBd,  L  and 
Eus.  Bijfaed  (?  for  6776^01*0  =  Ko:!  n'3  'house  of  the 
olive'),  B  B7)e<rai3d,  D  BeX^eBd.  As  to  tlie  deriva- 
tion, Delitzsch  suggests  peox  n'3  '  house  of  pillars,' 
and  Calvin  Njjifix  n"3  '  house  of  outpouring ' ;  but  the 
most  natural'etymology  is  n^pn  n'3  'house of  mercy,' 
possibly  in  allusion  to  the  munificence  of  some 
charitable  person  who  had  these  porches  built  to 
shelter  the  sick,  or  to  the  goodness  of  God  in  pro- 
viding this  healing  spring. 

As  the  adjective  Trpo/SaTiKJj,  ^pertaining  to  sheep,' 
requires  some  substantive  to  be  introduced,  the 
A  V  supplies  '  market,'  the  RV '  gate.'  Since  there 
is  no  reference  to  any  sheep-market  in  the  OT, 
while  the  sheep  -  gate  is  repeatedly  referred  to 
(Neh  3'-  '■>■■  12»»),  the  latter  method  of  supplying  the 
sense  is  the  more  probable  one.  Now  the  sheep- 
gate  is  known  to  have  been  north  of  the  Temple, 
and,  as  Bovet  says,  '  the  small  cattle  which  entered 
Jerusalem  came  there  certainly  by  the  east ;  for 
it  is  on  this  side  that  the  immense  pastures  of 
the  wilderness  of  Judaea  lie.'  The  modern  St. 
Stephen's  Gate  answers  to  these  data.  It  is  at  the 
northeast  angle  of  the  Temple  area,  and  is  the 
gate  through  which  the  Bedawln  still  lead  their 
nocks  to  Jerusalem  for  sale.  We  must  therefore 
look  for  the  Pool  of  Bethesda  in  this  vicinity,  and 
may  at  once  eliminate  several  proposed  identifica- 
tions elsewhere,  such  as  the  Hainmdm  esh-Shifd, 
near  the  'Gate  of  the  Cotton  Merchants,'  about 
the  middle  of  the  west  side  of  the  Temple  area, 
where  there  is  a  pool  with  pillars  and  masonry, 
some  sixty  feet  below  the  present  surface,  the 
waters  of  which  are  still  supposed  to  possess  heal- 
ing properties  (Furrer) ;  and  the  Pool  of  Siloam, 
where  the  remains  of  four  columns  in  the  east 
wall,  with  four  others  in  the  centre,  '  show  that  a 
structure  with  five  openings  or  porches  might 
easily  have  been  erected '  ( Alford) ;  and  the  Foun- 
tain of  the  Virgin,  the  intermittent  spring  at  the 
bottom  of  a  deep  cavern  at  the  foot  of  the  Ophel 
slope  southeast  of  the  Temple  (Robinson).  These 
are  all  too  far  from  the  sheep-gate  as  probably 
identified  above. 

Conder,  who  adopts  the  suggestion  of  Robinson 
that  Bethesda  was  at  the  present  Fountain  of  the 
Virgin,  says,  '  This  answers  the  requirements  that 
it  still  presents  the  phenomenon  of  intermittent 
"  troubling  of  the  water, '  which  overflows  from  a 
natural  syphon  under  the  cave,  and  that  it  is  still 
the  custom  of  the  Jews  to  batlie  in  the  waters  of 
the  cave,  when  this  overflow  occurs,  for  the  cure 
of  rheumatism  and  of  other  disorders.'  Against 
this  view  Grove  (Smith's  DB^,  art.  'Bethesda')  and 
Barclay  (City  of  the  Great  King,  325)  urge  the 
inaccessibility  of  the  deep  subterranean  water  to 
invalids,  the  confined  size  of  the  pool,  and  the 
difficulty  of  finding  room  for  the  five  porches 
capable  of  accommodating  '  a  multitude ' ;  and  to 
the  present  writer,  examining  the  cave  in  person, 
these  objections  seemed  conclusive,  apart  from  the 
difficulty  of  the  locality. 

Turning  now  to  the  neighbourhood  of  the  sheep- 
gate,  we  find  three  proposed  identifications.  (1) 
Modern  tradition  identifies  Bethesda  with  the 
Birket  Israil,  an  empty  reservoir,  360  feet  long, 
120  feet  wide,  and  80  "feet  deep,  half  filled  with 
rubbish,  whicli  lies  close  to  St.  Stephen's  Gate  and 
under  the  north-east  wall  of    the   Haram  area. 

(2)  Warren  and  others  would  place  Bethesda  at 
the  so-called  Twin  Pools,  in  the  ditch  at  the  north- 
west angle  of  Antonia,  under  the  convent  of  the 
Sisters  of  Zion.  Neither  of  these  can  be  the  true 
site,  as  both  the  Birket  Israil  and  the  Twin  Pools 
were  constructed  after  the  events  narrated  in  Jn  5. 

(3)  In  1872  it  was  pointed  out  by  M.  Clermont- 
Ganneau   that   '  the   Pool  of  Bethesda  should  be 


sought  near  the  Church  of  St.  Anne,  where  an  old 
tradition  has  placed  the  house  of  the  mother  of 
Mary,  calling  it  Beit  Hanna,  "  House  of  Anne." 
This  expression  is  exactly  identical  with  Bethesda, 
both  expressions  signifying  "house  of  mercy,  or 
compassion." '  Sixteen  years  later  this  anticipation 
was  verified  by  the  discovery  of  what  is  now  very 
generally  conceded  to  be  the  ancient  Pool  of 
Bethesda,  a  short  distance  north-west  of  the  pre- 
sent Church  of  St.  Anne.  In  the  autumn  of  1888, 
'  certain  works  carried  on  by  the  Algerian  monks 
laid  bare  a  large  tank  or  cistern  cut  in  the  rock  to 
a  depth  of  30  feet,  and  Herr  Schick  recognized  this 
as  the  Pool  of  Bethesda.  It  is  55  feet  long  from 
east  to  west,  and  measures  12J  feet  in  breadth.  A 
flight  of  twenty-four  steps  leads  down  into  the 
pool  from  the  eastern  scarp  of  rock.  Herr  Schick, 
who  at  once  saw  the  great  interest  of  this  dis- 
covery, soon  found  a  sister-pool,  lying  end  to  end, 
60  feet  long,  and  of  the  same  breadth  as  the  first. 
The  first  pool  was  arched  in  by  five  arches,  while 
five  corresponding  porches  ran  along  the  side  of  the 
pool.  At  a  later  period  a  church  was  built  over 
the  pool  by  the  Crusaders,  and  they  seem  to  have 
been  so  far  impressed  by  the  fact  of  five  arches 
below  that  they  shaped  their  crypt  into  five  arches 
in  imitation.  They  left  an  opening  for  getting 
down  to  the  water ;  and  further,  as  the  crowning 
proof  that  they  regarded  the  pool  as  Bethesda, 
they  painted  on  the  wall  of  the  crypt  a  fresco 
representing  the  angel  troubling  the  water  of  the 
pool.'  (Geo.  St.  Clair,  Buried  Cities  and  Bible 
Countries,  327-328.  See  also  PEFSt,  July  1888 
and  Jan.  1891). 

This  site  is  thus  supported  not  only  by  the 
mediaeval  tradition,  but  by  the  early  tradition  as 
well.  The  Bordeaux  pilgrim,  who  visited  Jeru- 
salem in  A.D.  333,  after  mentioning  two  large  fish- 
pools  by  the  side  of  the  temple,  one  at  the  right 
hand,  the  other  at  the  left,  says  in  another  place 
{Itin.  Hierosol.  589) :  '  But  farther  in  the  city  are 
twin  fish-pools  having  five  porches  which  are  called 
Bethsaida.  There  the  sicK  of  many  years  were 
wont  to  be  healed.  But  these  pools  have  water 
which,  when  agitated,  is  of  a  kind  of  red  colour.' 
This  is  evidently  the  same  place  described  by 
Eusebius  (Onomasticon,  240.  15)  in  the  same  cen- 
tury and  called  by  him  Bezatha,  though  he  gives 
no  other  clue  to  the  situation — 'a  pool  at  Jeru- 
salem, which  is  the  Piscina  Prohatica,  and  had 
formerly  five  porches,  and  now  is  pointed  out  at 
the  twin  pools  there,  of  which  one  is  filled  by  the 
rains  of  the  year,  but  the  other  exhibits  its  water 
tinged  in  an  extraordinary  manner  with  red,  re- 
taining a  trace,  they  say,  of  the  victims  that  were 
formerly  cleansed  in  it.'  Clearly,  too,  it  is  of  the 
same  place  that  Eucherius  speaks  in  the  5th 
cent.  :  '  Bethsaida,  peculiar  for  being  a  double 
lake,  of  which  one  pool  is  for  the  most  part  filled 
by  winter  rains,  the  other  is  discoloured  by  reddish 
waters.'  It  has  been  commonly  assumed  of  late 
that  the  two  tunnels  under  the  convent  of  the 
Sisters  of  Zion  are  the  twin  pools  mentioned  by 
these  writers ;  but  the  traditions  of  the  6th,  7th, 
and  8th  centuries,  to  be  presently  quoted,  place 
the  pool  with  the  five  porches  and  the  church 
called  Probatica  (cf.  x/jo/Sotikb,  Jn  5=)  at  or  near 
the  traditional  birthplace  of  Mary,  which  is  un- 
doubtedly under  the  present  Church  of  St.  Anne. 
Thus  Antoninus  Martyr  (A.D.  570)  says  :  '  Return- 
ing into  the  city  we  come  to  the  Piscina  Natatoria, 
which  has  five  porches  ;  and  in  one  of  these  is  the 
basilica  of  St.  Mary,  in  which  many  miraculous 
cures  are  wrought.'  Sophronius,  patriarch  of 
Jerusalem  (A.D.  632),  says :  '  I  will  enter  the  holy 
Probatica,  where  the  illustrious  Anna  brought 
forth  Mary.'  John  of  Damascus  (about  A.D.  '750) 
says :    '  May  all  things  be  propitious  to  thee,  O 


BETHLEHEM 


BETHLEHEM 


195 


Probatica,  the  most  holy  temple  of  the  Mother  of 
God !  May  all  things  be  propitious  to  thee,  O 
Probatica,  ancestral  domicile  of  a  queen  !  May  all 
things  be  propitious  to  thee,  O  Probatica,  formerly 
the  fold  of  Joachim's  flocks,  but  now  a  church, 
heaven-resembling,  of  the  rational  flock  of  Christ ! ' 
Brocardus  also  speaks  (A.D.  1283)  of  a  large  reser- 
voir near  St.  Anne's  Church,  called  Piscina  Interior, 
just  opposite  Birkat  Jsrail. 

Early  tradition,  therefore,  as  well  as  mediaeval, 
seems  to  favour  the  site  discovered  in  1888.  This 
is  the  site  now  generally  accepted,  though  some 
recent  writers  are  still  unconvinced,  such  as  Sanday 
(Sacred  Sites  of  the  Gospels,  55),  who  rejects  Schick's 
identification  but  reaches  no  positive  conclusion 
of  his  own,  and  Conder  (Hastings'  DB,  article 
'Bethesda'),  who  argues  for  the  Virgin's  Pool. 
The  intermittent  troubling  of  the  water  at  the 
Fountain  of  the  Virgin  is,  indeed,  a  point  in  its 
favour;  but  this  phenomenon  is  not  uncommon  in 
the  springs  of    Palestine    (Thomson,   Land   and 


and,  while  nothing  of  the  kind  is  now  seen  at  the 
pool  under  the  Crusaders'  church,  it  is  not,  perhaps, 
a  too  violent  supposition  that  the  same  intermit- 
tence  now  observed  in  the  Virgin's  Fountain  may 
have  characterized  this  pool  also  in  that  early  time 
of  more  copious  'rains  of  the  year,'  as  Eusebius 
calls  them,  especially  if,  as  some  think,  they  both 
lie  upon  the  same  concealed  watercourse. 

The  last  clause  of  Jn  5^  and  the  whole  of  v.*, 
containing  the  account  of  the  troubling  of  the 
water  by  an  angel  and  the  miraculous  healing  that 
followed,  are  relegated  to  the  margin  in  RV,  on 
the  ground  of  their  omission  by  the  ancient  ra.anu- 
scripts  NBD,  and  the  exceptional  number  of  vari- 
ants in  the  otlier  MSS.  Popular  superstition 
seems  to  have  attributed  the  periodic  bubbling  of 
the  water  to  the  action  of  an  invisible  angel. 
These  passages  were  probably  at  first  written  on 
the  margin  as  an  expression  of  that  opinion,  and 


later  were  introduced  into  the  body  of  the  text. 
W.  W.  Moore. 
BETHLEHEM.— Two  towns  of  this  name  are 
mentioned  in  the  Old  Testament.  1.  Bethlehem 
(DnS  n'3  'house  of  bread')  of  Zebulun,  Jos  19'^ 
The  site  is  now  occupied  by  a  miserable  village,  6 
miles  south-west  of  Sepphoris  and  about  the  same 
distance  northwest  of  Nazareth,  in  a  well-wooded 
district  of  country,  planted  with  oaks  (Robinson, 
Biblical  Researches,  iii.  113).  That  this  Beth- 
lehem cannot  have  been  the  scene  of  the  Nativity, 
near  as  it  is  to  Nazareth,  is  dear  from  the  fact 
that  both  St.  Matthew  and  St.  Luke  expressly 
place  the  birth  of  Christ  at  Bethlehem  of  Judaea. 
These  narratives  beinjj  independent  of  each  other 
and  derived  from  dilterent  sources,  we  have  for 
the  southern  Bethlehem  the  convergence  of  two 
distinct  traditions.      These  two   Evangelists   are 

i'oined  in  their  testimony  by  the  author  of  the 
i'ourth  Gospel,  who  assumes  acquaintance  on  the 
part  of  his  readers  with  the  story  of  the  birth  of 
Christ  at  Bethlehem,  the  Bethlehem  associated 
with  David  and  his  royal  line.  '  Some  said.  Shall 
Christ  come  out  of  Galilee  ?  Hath  not  the  Scrip- 
ture said  that  Christ  cometh  of  the  seed  of  David, 
and  out  of  the  town  of  Bethlehem  where  David 
was?'  (Jn  7^'-«)-  It  is  noteworthy  that  Beth- 
lehem is  never  mentioned  as  having  been  visited 
by  our  Lord  or  in  any  way  associated  with  His 
ministry.  But  all  Christian  history  and  tradition 
maintain  that  the  southern  Bethlehem  was  the 
scene  of  the  Nativity. 

2.  Bethlehem  of  Judah  (mm- "3  Jg  17'- ",  Ru  !'•  = 
etc.)  or  Judffia  (Mt  2',  Lk..'2^).  This  town  (the 
modern  Beit  Lahm)  is  situated  about  6  miles 
S.S.W.  of  Jerusalem,  lying  high  up  on  a  grey 
limestone  ridge  running  from  east  to  west,  and 


occupying  the  projecting  summits  at  each  end, 
with  a  sort  of  saddle  between.  The  ridge  rises  to 
a  height  of  2550  ft.  above  sea-level,  and  falls  away 
in  terraced  slopes  on  all  sides,  the  descent  to  the 
north  and  east  being  specially  steep.  The  terraces, 
as  they  sweep  in  graceful  curves  round  the  ridge 
from  top  to  bottom,  give  to  the  little  town  the  ap- 
pearance of  an  amphitheatre,  and  serve  to  make 
to  the  approaching  traveller  a  picture  which  closer 
acquaintance  does  not  wholly  disappoint.  The 
names  by  which  it  has  been  known  for  millenniums, 
and  is  still  known,  are  expressive  of  the  fertility 
of  the  place  —  Beth-lehcm,  'house  of  bread,'  and 
Beit  Lahm,  '  house  of  flesh.'  The  hillsides  around, 
merging  into  the  hill  country  of  Judaea,  though 
they  look  bare  to  the  eye  at  a  distance,  afford 
pastures  for  flocks  of  sheep  and  goats.  The  valleys 
below  and  the  fields  lying  to  the  east  produce  crops 
of  wheat  and  barley,  as  in  the  days  when  Rutli 
gleaned  in  the  fields  of  Boaz ;  and  the  terraced 
slopes,  under  diligent  cultivation,  bear  olives, 
almonds,  pomegranates,  figs,  and  vines.  Wine  and 
honey  are  named  among  the  most  notable  of  its 
natural  products,  and  the  wine  of  Bethlehem  is 
said  to  be  preferable  to  that  of  Jerusalem. 

The  modern  to^^^l  is  highly  picturesque.  There 
is  just  one  main  street  or  thoroughfare,  extending 
about  half  a  mile,  and  largely  occupied  by  work- 
shops, which  are  little  better  than  arches  open  to 
the  street.  The  population  is  differently  given  as 
from  4000  to  8000  souls.  Palmer  ('Das  jetzige 
Bethlehem'  in  ZDPV  xvii.  90),  writing  in  1893, 
and  founding  upon  personally  ascertained  figures, 
gives  8035  as  the  population,  which  he  classifies 
in  respect  of  religion  as  follows :  Latins,  3827 ; 
Greeks,  3662;  Moslems,  260;  Armenians,  185; 
Protestants,  54  ;  Copts  and  Syrians,  47.  The  small 
number  of  Moslems  is  said  to  be  due  to  the  severity 
of  Ibrahim  Pasha,  who  drove  out  the  Moslem 
inhabitants  and  demolished  their  houses  in  the 
insurrection  of  1834.  It  will  be  observed  from  the 
above  enumeration  that  Bethlehem  does  not  con- 
tain a  single  Jew.  As  in  Nazareth  so  in  Beth- 
lehem, the  associations  with  Jesus  make  residence 
repugnant  to  the  Jews,  and  they  have  accordingly 
no  desire  to  settle  in  the  Christian  Holy  Places. 
They  are,  in  fact,  tolerated  only  as  temporary 
visitors,  but  not  as  residents.  '  In  the  cradle  of 
his  royal  race,'  says  Canon  Tristram  (Bible  Places, 
p.  72),  '  the  Jew  is  even  more  a  stranger  than  in 
any  other  spot  of  his  own  land ;  and  during  the 
Middle  Ages  neither  Crusader  nor  Saracen  suffered 
him  to  settle  there.'  The  inhabitants  of  Beth- 
lehem are  of  superior  physique  and  comeliness. 
The  men  have  a  character  for  energy  and  even 
turbulence ;  the  women  are  noticeable  for  their 
graceful  carriage  and  becoming  attire.  In  the 
crowds  which  throng  the  Church  of  the  Holy 
Sepulchre  in  Jerusalem  at  the  Easter  services,  the 
women  of  Bethlehem,  wearing  a  light  veil  descend- 
ing on  each  side  of  the  face,  and  closed  across  the 
bosom,  with  a  low  but  handsome  headdress  com- 
posed of  strings  of  silver  coins  plaited  in  among 
the  hair  and  hanging  down  below  the  chin  as  a 
sort  of  necklace, — are  easily  recognizable,  and 
make  a  favourable  impression.  The  industries  of 
Bethlehem,  apart  from  the  cultivation  of  the  soil, 
are  intimately  associated  with  the  Nativity,  con- 
sisting of  memorial  relics  and  souvenirs  manufac- 
tured for  sale  to  the  thousands  of  pilgrims  and 
tourists  who  visit  Jerusalem  and  Bethlehem  every 
year.  Models  of  the  cave  of  the  Nativity,  figures 
of  Christ  and  the  Virgin,  apostles  and  saints,  are 
in  great  demand.  Olive  wood,  and  mother-of-pearl 
obtained  from  the  Red  Sea,  with  basaltic  stone 
from  the  neighbourhood  of  the  Dead  Sea,  are 
carved  and  wrought  into  useful  and  ornamental 
articles  with  no  small  degree  of  skill  and  taste. 


196 


bethlehe:m 


BETHLEHEM 


Palmer  mentions  {I.e.  p.  91)  that  an  increasing 
number  of  the  inhabitants  go  abroad  with  their 
products, — their  mother-of-pearl  carvings  and 
other  wares, — and,  especially  in  America,  find  a 
good  return  for  their  enterprise. 

Bethlehem,  notwithstanding  its  royal  associa- 
tions and  its  renown  as  the  birthplace  of  the 
world's  Redeemer,  has  never  been,  and  is  never 
likely  to  be,  more  in  the  eye  of  the  world  tlian 
'little  among  the  thousands  of  Judah'  (Mic  5=). 
'  In  spite,'  says  Palmer,  '  of  the  numerous  visits  of 
strangers  ana  pilgrims,  which  are  year  by  year  on 
the  increase,  and  in  spite  of  the  market-place 
which  Bethlehem  affords  for  the  whole  neighbour- 
hood, and  especially  for  the  Bedawtn,  who  come 
from  long  distances  from  the  southern  end  of  the 
Dead  Sea  to  make  their  purchases  of  clothing, 
tools,  and  weapons,  and  to  leave  the  produce  of 
their  harvest  and  their  pastures,  Bethlehem  ap- 
pears likely  to  remain,  unencumbered  by  trade 
and  progress,  what  it  has  been  for  many  years 
bygone— a  shrunken,  untidy  village.'  Even  so,  it 
can  never  be  deprived  of  its  associations  witli  the 
Messianic  King  of  Israel,  '  whose  goings  forth  have 
been  from  of  old,  from  everlasting'  (Mic  5-), 
associations  which  exalt  it  to  the  loftiest  eminence, 
and  surround  it  with  a  glory  that  cannot  fade. 
These  associations  in  their  salient  features  are 
now  to  be  set  forth. 

It  is  in  the  earl; 
meet  first  with  Betli 
of  Epluath.*  'When  I  came  from  Padan,'  said 
Jacob  on  his  deathbed,  recounting  to  Joseph  in 
Egypt  his  cliequered  history,  '  Rachel  died  by  me 
in  the  land  of  Canaan  in  the  way,  when  yet  there 
was  but  a  little  way  to  come  unto  Ephrath  :  and 
I  buried  her  there  in  the  way  of  Ephrath ;  the 
same  is  Bethlehem  '  (Gn48',  cf.  35""-).  The  sacred 
historian  records  that  Jacob  set  a  pillar  upon  her 
grave :  '  that  is  the  pillar  of  Rachel's  grave  unto 
this  day'  (Gn  35^).  Rachel's  grave  is  marked 
now  by  a  Mohammedan  wely,  or  monumental 
mosque,  at  the  point  where  the  Betlileheiu  road 
breaks  ott'  the  road  leading  from  Jerusalem  to 
Hebron ;  and  though  the  monument  has  been 
repaired  and  renewed  from  generation  to  genera- 
tion, it  serves  still  to  recall  a  real  event,  and  to 
distinguish  the  spot  where  Rachel's  'strength 
failed  her,  and  she  sank,  as  did  all  the  ancient 
saints,  on  the  way  to  the  birthplace  of  hope '  (Dr. 
John  Ker,  Scrnums,  8th  ed.  p.  153).  Bethlehem 
becomes  more  definitely  associated  with  the  Messi- 
anic hope  when  it  becomes  the  home  of  Ruth  the 
Moabitess,  the  ancestress  of  David  and  of  David's 
greater  Son.  From  the  heights  near  Bethlehem  a 
glimpse  is  obtained  of  the  Dead  Sea — tlie  sea  of 
Lot — shimmering  at  the  foot  of  the  long  blue  wall 
of  the  mountains  of  Moab ;  and  the  land  of  Moab 
seems  to  have  had  close  relations  with  Bethlehem 
and  its  people  in  patriarchal  as  well  as  later  times. 
With  Ruth  the  Moabitess,  through  lier  niaiTiage 
with  Boaz,  the  '  mighty  man  of  wealth '  of  Betli- 
lehem-judah  (Ru  2'),  there  entered  a  strain  of 
Gentile  blood,— although  we  remember  that  Lot, 
the  ancestor  of  Moab,  was  the  nephew  of  the  great 
ancestor  of  Israel— into  the  pedigree  of  Christ 
according  to  thefiesh  (Mt  P),  as  if  in  token  that,  in 
a  day  still  far  off,  Jew  and  Gentile  should  be  one 
in  Him.  With  David,  the  great-grandson  of  Ruth, 
there  entered  the  royal  element  into  tlie^'enealogy 
of  Jesus  ;  and  Bethlehem  has  no  associations  more 
sacred  and  tender  than  its  associations  with  the 
shepherd  king  of  Israel,  unless  it  be  those  that  link 
it  for  ever  with  God  manifest  in  the  flesh.  The 
stream  of  Messianic  hope,  aa  it  flows  onwards  ami 
broadens  from  age  to  age,  is  not  unlike  that  river 

"But  see  Driver,  Genesis  (in  ' Westmiuster  Commentaries '), 
p.  311,  and  in  Hastings'  DB  iv.  193". 


of  Spain  which  for  a  considerable  part  of  its  course 
Hows  underground,  and  only  at  intervals  miles 
apart  throws  up  pools  to  the  surface,  which  the 
inhabitants  call  '  the  eyes'  of  the  Guadiana.  The 
pools  trace  the  onward  progress  of  the  river,  till 
at  length  it  bursts  forth  in  a  broad  stream  seeking 
the  distant  sea.  So  the  hope  of  a  great  Deliverer 
from  spiritual  misery  and  death  flows  onward  in 
the  story  of  God's  ancient  people,  throwing  up 
its  pools  in  the  days  of  Abraham,  Moses,  David, 
Isaiah  and  the  prophets  ;  and  Micah  indicates  the 
direction  of  its  flow  with  more  explicitness  than 
any  who  went  before  when  he  says :  '  But  thou, 
Bethlehem  Ephratah,  though  thou  be  little  among 
the  thousands  of  Judah,  yet  out  of  thee  shall  he 
come  forth  unto  me  that  is  to  be  Ruler  in  Israel ; 
whose  goings  forth  have  been  from  of  old,  from 
everlasting'  (Mic  5-).  When  the  fulness  of  the 
time  had  come,  the  Messianic  hope  became  the 
place  of  broad  rivers  and  streams  which  we  so 
happily  know  and  enjoy,  and  the  glad  tidings  was 
heard  "on  the  plains  of  Bethlehem,  addressed  to  the 
watchful  shepherds :  '  Fear  not:  for,  behold,  I  bring 
you  glad  tidings  of  great  joy,  whicli  shall  be  to  all 
people.  For  unto  you  is  born  this  day  in  the  city 
of  David  a  Saviour,  which  is  Christ  the  Lord '  (Lk 

Tlie  story  of  the  Nativity  is  told  by  St.  Matthew 
and  St.  Luke  with  a  simplicity  and  delicacy  and 
beauty  which  are  of  themselves  an  evidence  of 
its  historical  truth.  Both  narratives,  as  has  been 
indicated,  assign  to  Bethlehem  the  high  honour  of 
being  the  place  of  the  Nativity  and  the  scene  of 
the  stupendous  fact  of  the  Incarnation.  The  de- 
tails are  too  familiar  to  require  rehearsal  here. 

There  is  one  particular  handed  dorni  by  early  Christian 
tradition  which  may  be  regarded  not  as  a  variation  from,  but  an 
addition  to,  the  Evangelic  narrative, — the  statement  made  by 
Justin  Martyr  (a.d.  140-160),  and  repeated  in  the  Apocryphal 
Gospels,  that  the  birth  of  Jesus  took  place  in  a  cave.  Justin 
{Dialogue  with  Tri/pho,  ch.  TS)  relates  that,  since  Joseph  had  in 
that  village  no  place  where  to  lai^'e,  he  lodjred  in  a  cave  near 
by.  Justni  relates  other  particulars  whicli  may  have  come  to 
him — he  was  a  native  of  N;lI)1us,  not  ll'  miles  from  Bethlehem 
— by  oral  tradition  or  from  aporryithal  ncirrati\  es  :  such  as  that 
the  Magi  came /n""  -1'"'"".  :'"'!  t'l't  Herod  slew  nM  the 
children  of    Bethlehem.      Thi-    'I;.      i  Jilc  where  the  Infant 

Saviour  was  born  mav  !>;.   .    i .   ■    w.  is  quite  in  keeping 

with  the  practice  of  iir  :,  ne  caves  of  the  hill 

country  of  Judiea  as  pi  ^  ■  !  i  i.ir  cattle  and  other 
beasts.  Those  Apocr_\|il'  il  i.  -|..  i>  \.i,ii  ti  deal  with  the  In- 
fancy, notably  the  Pnlfntiiiniium  Jaaibi  and  the  peeudo- 
ilat'thceus,  make  mention  of  the  cave.  Pseudo-Matthseus  (ch. 
13)  says,  '  The  angel  commanded  the  beast  to  stop,  for  her  time 
to  bear  had  come  ;  and  he  directed  the  Blessed  Mary  to  come 

which  there  was  never  any  light,  hut  always  darkness,  because 
it  could  not  receive  the  light  of  d,ay.  .\nd  when  the  Blessed 
Mary  had  entered  it,  it  began  to  become  light  with  all  lightness, 
as  if  it  had  been  the  sixth  hour  of  tlie  day.  .  .  .  And  then  she 
brought  forth  a  male  child,  whom  angels  instantly  surrounded 
at  His  birth,  and  whom,  when  born  and  st^mding  at  once  upon 


1  earth 


and  took  her  in,  and  set  his  sons  by  her,  and  he 
went  out  and  sought  a  midwife  in  the  country  of  Bethlehem. 
And  I  Joseph  walked  and  I  walked  not ;  and  I  looked  up  into 
the  sky  and  saw  the  sky  violently  agitated  ;  and  I  looked  up  at 
the  pole  of  heaven,  and  I  saw  it  standing  still  and  the  birds  of 
the  air  still ;  and  I  directed  my  gaze  on  the  earth,  and  I  saw  a 
vessel  lying  and  workmen  reclining  by  it  and  their  hands  in  the 
vessel,  and  those  who  handled  did  not  handle  it,  and  those  who 
presented  it  to  the  mouth  did  not  present  it,  but  the  faces  of 
uU  were  looking  up ;  and  I  saw  the  sheep  scattered  and  the 
sheep  stood,  and  the  shepherd  lifted  up  his  hand  to  strike  them 
and  his  hand  remained  up ;  and  I  looked  at  the  stream  of  the 
river,  and  I  saw  that  the  mouths  of  the  kids  were  down  and 
not  drinking  ;  and  ever;  thing  which  was  being  impelled  for- 
ward was  intercepted  in  its  course.' 

The  Protevatigeliuvi  Jacobi  is  generally  recognized  as  belong- 
ing to  the  2nd  cent.,  and  its  testimony  is  a  valuable  confir- 
mation of  the  early  Christian  tradition.  Few  scholars,  if  any, 
will  agree  in  assigning  it  the  place  of  unporlance  attributed  to 
it  recently  by  the  fantastic  theory  of  Conradv  (Die  Qxielle  der 
kaiioiiischen  Eind?ieitsge8chichten  Je^'tt.  Gottingen,  1900),  who 
regards  the  Protevmigetium  as  the  source  of  the  Gospel  narra- 
tives of  the  Infancy.  The  author  of  it,  according  to  him,  is  an 
Egyptian,  most  likely  of  Alexandria,  who  introduces  Bethlehem 
of  its  place  in  Hebrew  prophecy, 


BETHLEHEM 


BETHPHAGE 


197 


hut  liL-c.ause  it  was  formerly  a  seat  of  the  worship  of  Isis,  and 
he  wishes  to  incorporate  this  worship  with  Christianity.  In 
toncerc  with  the  priests  of  Isis  and  Serapis,  he  aided  with  his 
inventive  pen  the  appropriation  of  this  sacred  site  by  the 
Church,  and  it  was  from  the  Protevangdium  that  the  writers  of 
the  First  and  Third  Gospels  drew  their  separate  narratives  of 
the  Infancy.  Conradv  returns  to  the  subject  with  an  article 
full  of  equally  curious  and  perverted  learning  in  SK,  1904, 
Heft  2, '  Die  Flucht  nach  .Egypten.' 

It  is  in  the  4th  century  that  Bethlehem  herins 
to  receive  that  veneration  as  a  Christian  Holy 
Place  in  which  it  is  now  equalled  only  by  Jeru- 
salem and  Nazareth.  As  early  as  Justin  Martyr 
attention  is  specially  directed  to  Bethlehem  as  the 
birthplace  of  the  world's  Redeemer.  In  addition 
to  the  reference,  already  mentioned,  to  the  cave, 
we  find  Justin  quoting  the  well-known  prophecy 
of  Isaiah  (33"="),  '  He  shall  dwell  in  a  lofty  cave 
of  a  strong  rock,'  in  the  same  connexion  (Duiloqiie 
with  Trijpho,  ch.  70).  Even  earlier  tlian  Justin's 
day  it  would  appear  that  this  particular  cave  was 
venerated  by  the  followers  of  Christ ;  for,  as  Jerome 
tells  in  one  of  his  letters  to  Paulinus,  the  emperor 
Hadrian  (A.D.  117-138),  in  his  zeal  to  extirpate  the 
very  remembrance  of  Clirist,  caused  a  grove  sacred 
to  Adonis  to  be  planted  over  the  grotto  of  the  Nativ- 
ity, as  he  caused  a  temjile  to  Venus  to  be  erected 
over  the  site  of  the  sepulchre  of  our  Lord.  Origen 
(c.  Celsuin,  i.  51)  says :  'If  any  one  desires  certainty 
as  to  the  birth  of  Jesus  at  Bethlehem  apart  from 
the  Gospels  and  Micali's  prophecy,  let  him  know 
that  in  conformity  with  the  narrative  in  the  Gos- 
pel regarding  His  birth  there  is  shown  at  Bethle- 
hem the  cave  where  He  was  bom  and  the  manger 
in  the  cave  where  He  was  wrapped  in  swaddling 
clothes.  And  this  sign  is  greatly  talked  of  in 
surrounding  places,  even  among  the  enemies  of 
the  faith,  it  being  said  that  in  this  cave  was  born 
that  Jesus  who  is  worshipped  and  reverenced  by 
the  Christians.'  The  site  is  now  marked  by  the 
oldest  church  in  Christendom,  the  Church  of  St. 
Mary  of  the  Nativity,  built  by  order  of  the 
Emperor  Constantine.  It  i.s  a  massive  pile  of 
buildings  extending^  along  the  ridge  from  west  to 
east,  and  comprising  the  church  proper  with 
the  three  convents,  Latin,  Greek,  and  Armenian, 
abutting  respectively  upon  its  north  -  eastern, 
south  -  eastern,  and  south  -  western  extremities. 
The  proportions  of  the  church  and  its  related 
structures  are  more  commanding  from  its  eleva- 
tion and  from  the  sliabbiness  of  the  town  in 
comparison.  The  nave  of  the  church  is  common 
to  all  the  sects,  and  is  shared  by  tlieni  togetlier — 
Latins,  Gi'ceks,  Armenians.  Fidiu  tlie  dimlile 
line  of  Corinthian  pillars  .sustaiiiin.L;  (lie  basilica 
sixteen  centuries  look  down  upon  the  visitor,  iiiid 
the  footsteps  of  nearly  fifty  generations  of  Chris- 
tians have  trodden  the  ground  upon  which  he 
treads.  Says  Dean  Stanley :  '  The  long  double 
lines  of  Corinthian  pillars,  the  faded  mosaics,  the 
rough  ceiling  of  beams  of  cedar  from  Lebanon  still 
preserve  the  outlines  of  tlie  church,  once  blazing 
with  gold  and  marble,  in  which  Baldwin  was 
crowned,  and  whicli  received  its  latest  repairs  from 
our  own  English  Edward  iv.'  {Si iiai  and  Palestine, 
p.  433).  It  is  the  subterranean  vault  that  con- 
tinues to  be  of  perennial  interest.  Descending 
the  steps  from  the  raised  Hoor  of  the  eastern  end 
of  the  nave,  and  turning  sharply  to  the  left,  the 
visitor  finds  a  half-sunk  arched  doorway  which 
leads  down  by  thirteen  steps  to  the  Chapel  of 
the  Nativity— the  rude  cave  now  paved  and  walled 
with  marble  and  lighted  up  by  numerous  lamps. 
This  chamber  is  about  40  feet  "from  east  to  west, 
16  feet  wide,  and  10  feet  high.  Tlie  roof  is  covered 
with  what  had  once  been  striped  cloth  of  gold. 
At  the  east  end  there  is  a  shrine  where  fifteen 
silver  lamps  bum  night  and  day,  and  in  the 
floor,  let  into  the  pavement,  a  silver  star  of  Greek 


pattern  marks  the  very  spot  of  the  Nativity 
with  the  inscription :  '  Hie  dc  Virgine  Marid 
Jesus  Christus  natus  est.'  To  the  Christian  the 
associations  of  the  place  make  it  full  of  impres- 
siveness,  and  the  visitor  has  no  more  sacred  or 
tender  recollections  of  holy  ground  than  those 
which  cluster  round  the  Church  and  the  Grotto  of 
the  Nativity.  Not  far  oft'  is  a  cave,  cut  out  of  the 
same  limestone  ridge,  which  was  the  abode  of  St. 
Jerome  for  over  thirty  years.  Here,  ■with  the 
noble  ladies  whom  he  had  won  to  the  religious  life, 
Paula  and  her  daughter  Eustochium,  he  laboured 
totus  in  lectione,  toius  in  lihris,  preparing  the  Vul- 
gate translation  of  the  Holy  Scriptures,  which  for 
more  than  a  thousand  years  was  the  Bible  of 
Western  Christendom,  and  is  a  powerful  tribute  to 
Ills  piety  and  learning.  '  It  is  the  touch  of  Christ 
that  has  made  Bethlehem '  (Kelman  and  Fulleylove, 
The  Holy  Land,  p.  234).  And  the  touch  of  Christ 
is  making  itself  felt  still  in  the  works  of  Christian 
philanthropy  and  missionary  zeal  that  are  being 
performed  there.  There  are  schools  and  other 
missionary  agencies  maintained  by  Protestants 
and  Roman  Catholics  to  instruct  in  His  truth  and 
to  enrich  with  His  grace  the  community  who 
occupy  the  place  of  His  birth.  Bethlehem  appears 
among  the  .stations  of  the  Church  Missionary 
Society,  and  the  work  done  there  among  women 
and  girls  has  borne  good  fruit.  The  Germans 
have  built  an  Evangelical  Church,  which  was 
dedicated  in  1893.  There  is  much  superstition 
and  error  among  the  nominally  Christian  inhabi- 
tants of  the  place,  but  the  efforts  of  the  Protestant 
and  Roman  Catholic  missionaries  have  stirred  up 
the  Greek  Orthodox  and  Armenian  Christians  to 
activity  for  the  moral  and  spiritual  welfare  of 
their  people. 

LiTERATFRB.— Andrews,  Life  oj  our  Lord^,  p.  82;  Cunning- 
ham Geikie,  Tlie  Bolij  Land  and  the  Bible ;  Stanley,  Siiml  and 
Palestine ;  Kelman,  The  Holu  Land ;  Sandav,  Sacred  Sites  of 
the  Gospels ;  G.  A.  Smith,  Histor.  Geog.  of  Holy  Land ;  The 
Surveu  of  Western  Palestine,  vol.  iii. ;  Ramsay,  Was  Christ  bom 
at  Bethlehem  ? ;  Palmer, '  Das  jetzige  Bethlehem '  inZDPVxvii.; 
articles  in  Kitto's  Cyclop.,  PRE  3,  Vigouroux's  Dictionnaire  de  la 
Bible,  Smith's  DB,  Hastings'  DB,  and  Encyclopedia  Biblica. 
T.    NiCOL. 

BETHPHAGE  {'B7te(payn).—A  place  unknown  to 
the  OT,  the  Apocrypha,  or  Josephus,  and  men- 
tioned in  the  NT  only  once— on  the  occasion  of 
our  Lord's  triumphal  entry  into  Jerusalem  five 
days  before  His  death.  It  was  certainly  situated 
upon  the  slope  of  the  Mt.  of  Olives,  on  or  near  the 
road  from  Jericho  to  Jerusalem  (Mk  10^^  IV,  Lk 
19'-^),  and  in  the  inmiediate  neighbourhood  of 
Bethany.  Tlie  site  of  the  latter  being  accurately 
determined  as  the  modern  el-Azariyeh  (see  art. 
Bethany,  1),  it  might  be  expected  that  there 
would  be  little  difficulty  in  locating  Bethphage. 
Unfortunately,  however,  the  texts  of  the  three 
Synoptists  [St.  John  does  not  mention  Bethphage] 
are  obscure  on  two  points — 

(1)  As  to  the  relation  between  Bethphage  and 
Bethany,  St.  Luke  (19'-")  alone  mentions  both  places 
('as  he  drew  near  to  Bethphage  and  Bethany'). 
His  language  seems  to  imply  that  a  traveller  com- 
ing from  Jericho  would  come  first  to  Bethphage, 
then  to  Bethany,  and  finally  to  Jerusalem.  St. 
Matthew  ('21')  mentions  only  Bethphage.  As  for 
St.  Mark,  his  original  text  (11')  probably  contained 
no  reference  to  Bethphage,  but  this  name  has  been 
inserted,  and  in  the  majority  of  MSS  stands  be- 
tween Jerusalem  and  Bethany  in  such  a  way  that, 
if  this  reading  were  accepted  as  the  original  one, 
we  should  have  to  place  Bethphage  in  a  different 
position  in  relation  to  Bethany  from  what  is  im- 
plied in  the  text  of  St.  Luke. 


off  the  direct  route  from  Jericho  to  Jerusalem,  upon  i 


BETHSAIDA 


BETHSAIDA 


road,  and  Bethphage  at  the  point  where  this  joined  the  main 
road.  It  would  thus  have  been  necessary  to  pass  Bethphage 
both  in  going  to  Bethany  and  in  returning  from  it.  Support 
for  this  conjecture  has  been  sought  in  the  use  of  the  word 
i^«J».  in  Mil  ll-l. 

(2)  In  all  three  Synoptics,  Jesus  sends  two  of 
His  disciples  to  a  village  {ku/iti)  to  bring  the  ass 
on  which  He  was  to  ride.  Is  this  village,  which 
is  'over  against'  {KarivavTi),  to  be  identified  with 
Bethphage,  or  with  Bethany,  or  with  some  third 
locality  ?  Each  of  these  views  is  capable  of  defence  ; 
the  traditional  identification  of  the  village  of  the 
ass's  colt  with  Bethphage  is  at  least  questionable, 
especially  in  view  of  Mt  2V  'When  they  had 
reached  Bethphage  .  .  .  then  Jesus  sent  two  dis- 
ciples to  the  village  over  against.'  A  site  for  the 
village  of  the  colt  might  be  suggested  at  Siloe,  or 
rather  at  Kcfr  et-Tiir,  on  the  top  of  the  Mt.  of  Olives. 
[It  Ls  known  that  in  the  time  of  Jesus  Christ  there 
were  houses  on  its  summit].  In  the  circumstances 
of  the  case  it  would  be  hazardous  to  offer  any 
opinion  as  to  the  probable  situation  of  Bethphage. 

Etymologically  the  name  Betkphage  appears  to 
mean  'house  (or  place)  of  rniripe  fruits,'  more 
especially  'of  unripe  figs'  (cf.  Ca2",  and  see  Dal- 
man,  Gramniatik  Aesjud.  pal.-Aramaisch,  1894,  p. 
152,  and  Arnold  Meyer,  Jcsu  3Ti(ffcrsprache,  1896, 
p.  166).  Recently  a  coiini-xion  Im  liuen  suggested 
by  Nestle  ('Etymoloj;iM  h,.   l.iu.iMlrn  ?'  in  ZJVTh 

xl.  [1897],  p.    148)  betw.Tii   tin.  .in logy  of  the 

name  Bethphage  and  the  story  cf  the  barren  fig- 
tree.  But  it  may  be  noted  that  the  latter  is  associ- 
ated in  the  Gospels  (Mt  21"-^-,  Mk  1 1""-  ="-26)  with 
Bethany,  not  Bethphage.  Formerly  Nestle  {SK, 
1896,  p.  323 ft'.,  and  in  his  Philologica  Sacra,  1896, 
p.  16  f.)  had  pointed  to  the  possibility  of  con- 
necting, from  the  point  of  view  of  popular  ety- 
mology, Bethphage  (=i<y^5  n'3  'place  of  meeting"') 
and  the  ifupoBov  of  Mk  11^.  Finally,  another  e.\- 
planation  of  Bethphage,  viewed  as  a  dwelling- 
place  of  priests  (?),  is  furnished  by  Origen,  and 
rests  upon  a  curious  combination  of  the  Aramaic 
word  K3S  'jaw,'  with  Dt  18^,  whieh  assigns  to  the 
priests  the  jaws  of  sacrificial  victims  as  part  of 
their  portion. 

In  tne  Middle  Ages,  Bethphage  was  shown  to  the 
north  of  Bethany,  higher  up  the  slope  of  the  Mt. 
of  Olives.  The  site  of  this  mediicval  Bethphage 
(which  proves  nothing  for  the  Bethphage  of  Scrip- 
ture) was  recovered  nearly  tliirty  years  ago,  tlianks 
to  the  discovery  made  by  the  Franciscan  Fathers, 
controlled  and  described  by  Guillemot  and  Clermont- 
Ganneau,  of  a  stone  (the  fragment  of  an  altar?) 
bearing  inscriptions  and  pictures  relating  to  Christ's 
entry  into  Jenisalera. 

LmakTimE.—PBFSt.  1874,  p.  173;  1878,  pp.  51-61,  146-149; 
PEP,  'Jerusalem,' pp.  331-340;  BemteArchMogique,  Bee.  1S77, 
p.  366fl.;  Reviu:  Bihhqxu,  1892,  p.  105  f.  See  also  the  discussion 
m  Andrews,  Life  of  our  Lord",  429-432. 

LUCIEN  G.\UTIER. 
BETHSAIDA  ('house  of  fishing').— The  supposi- 
tion that  there  were  two  places  on  the  shore  of  the 
Sea  of  GalUee  to  which  this  name  appropriately 
applies  has  been  disputed  or  rejected  by.  many 
writers  (Buhl,  G.  A.  Smith,  Sandaj^,  et  al.) ;  but  the 
evidence  in  its  favour,  direct  and  indirect,  has  the 
support  of  a  long  list  of  authorities  on  Palestinian 
geography  from  the  days  of  Reland  to  tlie  present 
time.  There  are  differences  of  opinion  with  respect 
to  the  precise  location  of  both  places,  but  there  is 
a  general  agreement  that  one  was  on  the  east  and 
the  other  on  the  west  side;  of  the  Jordan  or  its 
expanse  into  tlie  Galiloean  Lake.  Prominent  on 
the  list  of  tliose  who  advocate  two  Betlisaidas  are 
the  names  of  Ritter,  Robinson,  Caspari,  Stanley, 
Edersheim,  Wieseler,  Weiss,  Tristram,  Thomson, 
van  de  Velde,  Porter,  Merrill,  Macgregor,  and 
E\ving.     The   facts  and   suggestions  which  bear 


ujion  the  supposition  itself  may  be  summed  up  as 
follows  : — 

1.  Bethsaida  of  Gaulanitis.  — The  historic  evi- 
dence for  the  existence  and  general  location  of 
this  city  is  not  disputed.  Josephus  describes  it  as 
a  village  'situates  at  the  Lake  of  Gennesaret 
which  Philip  the  tetrarch  advanced  unto  the 
dignity  of  a  city,  both  by  the  number  of  inhabi- 
tants it  contained,  and  its  otlier  grandeur,  and 
called  it  by  the  name  "Julias,"  the  same  name 
with  Cwsar's  daughter '  (Ant.  XVIII.  ii.  1).  In  other 
passages  he  indicates  its  position  as  in  '  Lower 
Gaulanitis'  (Jaulan),  'in  Pera'a,'  and  as  near  the 
Jordan,  which  'first  passes  by  the  city  and  then 
passes  through  the  middle  of  the  Lake'  (BJ  II. 
IX.  1,  xiii.  2,  also  BJ  III.  x.  7,  and  Life,  72).  In 
every  instance,  except  the  one  above  quoted,  whicli 
gives  a  reason  for  the  change  of  designation, 
Josephus  drops  the  old  name  and  calls  it  'Julias.' 
Pliny  and  Jerome  give  it  the  same  appellation, 
and  locate  it  on  the  eastern  side  of  the  Jordan 
(Plin.  HN  V.  16 ;  Jer.  Com.  on  Mt  16^').  The 
modem  designation,  '  Bethsaida-Julias,'  is  not  to 
be  found  in  ancient  history,  sacred  or  secular. 
The  site  of  the  city  which  thus  became  the  suc- 
cessor, under  another  name,  of  Betli.saida  of 
Gaulanitis,  has  not  been  identified  with  certainty. 
After  careful  research.  Dr.  Robinson  came  to  the 
conclusion  that  a  mound  of  ruins,  known  as  ct-TeU, 
was  the  most  probable  location  of  the  long-lost  city. 

"The  tell  extends  from  the  foot  of  the  northern  mountains 
southwards,  near  the  point  where  the  Jordan  issues  from  them. 
The  ruins  cover  a  large  portion  of  it,  and  are  quite  e.\tensive ; 
but  so  far  as  could  be  observed,  consist  entirely  of  unhewn 
stones,  without  any  distinct  trace  of  ancient  architecture' 
(BiJP^ii.  p.  413). 

The  site  is  over  against  one  of  the  fording-places 
of  the  Jordan,  and  about  2  miles  above  its  mouth. 
This  tentative  identification  has  been  accepted  by 
many  recent  explorers,  but  mainly  for  the  reason 
that  the  location  seems  to  be  the  most  favour- 
able, because  of  its  commanding  position,  for  such 
a  city  as  Josephus  describes.  The  objections  to  it 
are  its  distance  from  the  Lake,  and  the  absence  of 
anything  which  would  suggest  its  original  name — 
'  the  house  (or  place)  of  fishing.' 

Another  site,  to  which  these  objections  do  not 
apply,  has  been  suggested  by  Dr.  Thomson  at 
el-Mas'adiyeh,  not  far  from  the  eastern  bank  of  the 
rii'er,  and  near  the  Lake,  '  distinguished  by  a  few 
palm  trees,  foundations  of  old  walls,  and  fragments 
of  basaltic  columns'  (Land  and  Book,  ii.  422). 
This  -wiiter  advocates  the  existence  of  a  double 
city,  lying  on  both  sides  of  the  Jordan,  as  the  true 
solution  of  the  Bethsaida  problem,  and  indicates  a 
site  over  against  el-Mas  aaiyeh,  where  a  few  ruins 
have  been  found,  as  the  probable  location  of  the 
Galilsean  portion  of  the  city.  The  apparent  objec- 
tions to  this  site  are  the  boggy  and  treacherous 
ground  in  the  vicinity,  and  the  absence  of  anything 
that  would  suggest  the  existence  in  former  times 
of  a  fording-place  or  a  connexion  by  means  of 
bridges.  AA^lson  accepts  Thomson's  views ;  and 
Schumacher,  the  noted  explorer  of  the  Jaulan 
region,  agrees  with  him  in  locating  the  eastern 
city  at  el-Masadiyeh.  He  suggests  also  that  the 
royal  residence  of  Philip  may  have  been  on  the 
hill  at  et-'feU,  and  the  fishing  village  at  cl-Araj, 
near  the  mouth  of  the  Jordan,  where  are  ruins, 
and  that  both  were  connected  by  a  good  road  still 
visible  (see  Jaidan  Quarterly  Statement,  April 
1888).  Conder,  who  favours  et-Tcll,  makes  the 
plea  on  its  behalf  that  local  changes  in  the  river 
delta  may  have  increased  the  distance  materially 
between  this  site  and  the  head  of  the  Lake. 

Assuming  this  as  a  possibility,  the  place  must 
always  have  been  a  considerable  distance  from  the 
mouth  of  the  Jordan.     It  is  not  unlikely,  how- 


BETHSAIDA 


BETHSAIDA 


199 


ever,  as  Merrill  suggests,  that  the  landing-place 
of  Julias  was  the  original  site  of  the  town,  and 
that  among  the  local  hsliermen  it  retained  the  old 
name  for  some  time  after  tlie  building  of  the  city 
of  Philip,  wliich  would  naturally  he  laid  out  on 
higher  ground.  In  the  only  NT  references  which 
can  with  certainty  be  attributed  to  this  place,  the 
Evangelists  make  use  of  the  older  name  (Lk  9'°, 
Mk  8^-).  In  the  first,  the  scene  of  the  miracle  of 
the  five  loaves,  it  is  described  as  'a  desert,'  or 
vacant  place,  '  belonging  to  the  city  called  Beth- 
saida.'  All  the  Evan"elists  concur  in  the  state- 
ment that  it  was  a  place  apart  from  the  town, 
but  evidently  near  it,  where  the  native  grass 
thickly  covered  the  fallow  ground  and  made  a 
comfortable  resting-place  for  the  weary  multitude. 
The  location  which  fulKls  all  the  conditions  of  the 
narrative  is  on  the  eastern  ridge  of  the  Batiha 
plain,  in  the  immediate  vicinity  of  the  Lake. 

In  the  second  reference  it  appears  that  Jesus, 
after  crossing  to  the  other  side  from  Dalmanutha 
on  the  west  coast,  came  to  Bethsaida  en  route 
to  the  towns  of  Cresarea  Philippi.  While  in  the 
city  a  blind  man  was  brought  to  Him.  It  is  a 
significant  fact,  in  keeping  with  His  uniform  atti- 
tude towards  the  Gentile  cities  of  this  region,  that 
He  took  the  blind  man  by  the  hand  and  led  him 
out  of  the  town,  before  He  restored  his  sight. 
In  this,  says  Farrar,  '  all  that  we  can  dimly  see  is 
Christ's  dislike  and  avoidance  of  these  heathenish 
Herodian  towns,  with  their  borrowed  Hellenic 
architecture,  their  careless  customs,  and  even  their 
very  names  commemorating,  as  was  the  case  with 
Bethsaida-Julias,  some  of  the  most  contemptible 
of  the  human  race '  (Life  of  Christ,  ch.  xxxv. ). 

2.  Bethsaida  of  Galilee. — It  has  been  alleged 
by  some  writers  that  the  existence  of  a  western 
Bethsaida  was  invented  to  meet  a  supposed  diffi- 
culty in  the  narrative  of  the  Evangelists.  This 
is  not  a  fair  statement  of  the  case.  A  Bethsaida 
belonging  to  the  province  of  Galilee  is  designated 
by  name  as  well  as  implied  hj  incidental  reference. 
Its  claims  are  advocated  mainly,  if  not  solely,  on 
the  ground  that  it  is  in  the  Gospel  record.  The 
objection  sometimes  urged,  that  the  existence  of 
two  towns  of  the  same  name  in  such  close  proximity 
is  improbable,  has  little  weight  in  view  of  the  fact 
that  these  towns  were  in  diflerent  provinces,  under 
different  rulers,  and  in  many  respects  had  little 
in  common.  "The  name  itself  suggests  a  place 
favourably  situated  for  fishermen,  and  might  be 
appropriately  applied  to  more  places  than  one  by 
the  Lake  side.     But  see  art.  Capeknaum. 

The  main  points  of  tlie  argument  in  favour  of  a  western 
Bethsaida  are  as  follows  :— 

(1)  The  direct  testijnaiiy  given  in  John's  Gospel.  —  In  one 
passage  it  is  affirmed  that  Philip,  one  of  the  Apostolic  band, 
was  of  Bethsaida,  the  city  of  Andrew  and  Peter  (1«) ;  in 
another  (1221),  that  Philip  was  of  Bethsaida  of  Galilee.  This  is 
the  testimony  of  one  who  is  noted  for  his  accuracy  in  ^eo- 
grajphical  details,  who  knew  every  foot  of  this  lake-side  region, 
and  who,  in  common  with  the  other  Evangelists,  speaks  of  this 
trio  of  disciples  as  partners  in  a  common  industry,  and  as  •  men 
of  Galilee.'  '  Cana  of  Galilee '  is  a  similar  expression  in  the 
same  Gospel,  and  the  fact  that  the  writer  mentions  the  province 
at  all,  in  this  connexion,  is  a  strong  presumptive  proof  that  he 
wished  to  distinguish  it  from  the  other  Bethsaida  on  the  eastern 
side.  The  mention  of  Galilee  in  John's  Gospel  determines  this 
place  on  the  west  of  the  Jordan  as  decidedly  as  that  of  Gaulanitis 
does  the  other  Bethsaida  on  the  east.  The  assertion  of  G.  A. 
Smith,  that  the  province  of  Galilee  included  most  of  the  level 
coastland  east  of  the  Lake,— if  it  applies  to  Galilee  in  the  time 
of  Christ,— is  apparently  in  conflict  with  all  the  evidence  which 
the  history  of  that  time  has  given  us.  It  conflicts  also  with  the 
positive  testimony  of  Josephus,  who  places  Julias— the  city 
which  Dr.  Smith  associates  with  Bethsaida— in  Gaulanitis,  and 
under  the  jurisdiction  of  Herod  Philip. 

(2)  The  weU-attested  fact  that  all  of  the  Apostles,  except  Judas 
Iscanot,weremen  of  Galilee  (Ac  I'l),  furnishes  another  corrobo- 
rative proof  that  the  place  of  residence  of  the  three  above 
mentioned  could  not  have  been  in  the  city  of  Philip  (see  also 
Mk  14™).  They  were  typical  Jews,  and  their  place  of  employ, 
ment  and  all  their  associations  were  with  their  bretliren  of  the 
same  faith  on  or  near  the  plain  of  Gennesaret. 

(3)  In  the  narrative  of  the  return  journey  from  the  place  of 


the  feeding  of  the  multitude,  it  is  distinctly  mentioned  that  the 
disciples  embarked  in  a  ship  to  go  before  to  the  *  other  side '  unto 
Bethsaida  (Mk  6<5).  If  the  word  'unto'  stood  alone,  there 
might  be  some  ground  for  the  supposition  that  the  disciples 
aimed  at  sailing  along  the  shore  towards  Julias,  but  in  the  de- 
scription which  follows,  the  Evangelist  makes  it  plain  that  the 
'  otlier  side,'  as  he  uses  the  expression,  meant  the  west  shore  of 
the  Lake.  'And  when  they  had  passed  over,  they  came  into  the 
land  of  Gennesaret.'  The  parallel  accounts  convey  the  same 
impression  and  are  equally  decisive  on  this  point  (Mt  1422-34, 
JnClii).  It  is  true  that  John  adds  that  'they  went  over  the 
sea  towards  Capernaum,'  but  there  is  no  discrepancy  between 
the  several  statements  if  Robinson  is  right  in  identifying  Beth- 
saida with  'Aiji  et-Tdbigha.  The  general  direction  would  be 
the  same,  and  the  distance  between  the  two  points  does  not 
exceed  three-quarters  of  a  mile.  In  keeping  with  these  state- 
ments is  the  mention  of  the  fact  that  the  multitude  on  the  east 
side,  noting  the  direction  taken  by  the  vessel  in  which  the 
disciples  sailed,  took  shipping  the  next  day  and  came  to 
Capernaum,  seeking  for  Jesus  (Jn622"i4).  These  passages,  in- 
terpreted in  their  natural  and  ordinary  sense,  show  that  the 
disciples  aimed  at  going  to  the  western  side  of  the  Lake  in  obedi- 
ence to  the  command  of  Jesus.  The  contrary  wind  retarded 
their  progress,  but  it  did  not  take  them  far  out  of  their  course. 
The  mention  of  Bethsaida,  in  this  connexion,  with  Capernaum 
makes  it  highly  probable  also  that  its  site  was  somewhere  in 
the  same  neighbourhood. 

(4)  There  is  a  manifest  verification  and  corroboration  of  this 
testimony  in  the  close  association  of  Bethsaida  with  Capernaum 
and  Chorazin  in  the  judgment  pronounced  upon  them  by  our 
Lord  because  of  their  peculiar  privileges  (Mt  1121-23).  There  is 
no  uncertainty  with  respect  to  the  import  of  this  denunciation. 
It  could  not  apply  to  a  Gentile  city  like  JulLas,  for  it  is  here  con- 
trasted with  the  Gentile  cities  of  Tyre  and  Sidon.  It  is  evident, 
also,  that  its  significance  inheres  in  the  peculiar  privileges  of 
Bethsaida  through  oft-repeated  manifestations  of  supernatural 
power  in  connexion  with  the  ministry  of  Jesus.  In  other  words, 
it  was  in  the  very  centre  of  that  field  of  wonders  in  Galilee, 
honoured  above  all  other  places  in  the  land  as  the  residence  of 
Jesus,  to  which  multitudes  flocked  from  every  quarter.  We 
have  the  record  of  three  brief  visits  of  Jesus  to  the  semi-heathen 
population  on  the  eastern  side  of  the  Lake,  mainly  for  rest  and 
retirement,  but  there  is  no  record  of  '  many  mighty  works'  in 
any  of  the  towns  or  cities  of  this  region.  This  of  itself  seems  to 
be'an  unanswerable  argument  against  the  proposed  identifica- 
tion of  the  city  to  which  Jesus  refers  in  this  connexion  with  the 
Herodian  city  of  Juliaa  in  the  province  of  Gaulanitis. 

The  generally  accepted  site  of  Bethsaida  of 
Galilee  is  'Aiii  et-Tdbigha.  It  is  situated  at  the 
head  of  a  charming  little  bay  on  the  northern 
side  of  the  spur  which  runs  out  into  the  Lake  at 
Khan  Mimjeh.  Here,  by  the  ruins  of  some  old 
mills,  is  a  copious  stream  of  warm,  brackish  water, 
fed  by  several  fountains,  one  of  which  is  the 
largest  spring-head  in  Galilee.  Its  course,  which 
now  winds  and  descends  amid  a  tangled  mass  of 
rank  vegetation  to  the  Lake,  was  formerly  diverted 
to  the  plain  of  Gennesaret  by  a  strongly  built 
reservoir,  still  standing,  which  raised  the  water  to 
an  elevation  of  twenty  feet  or  more.  Thence  it 
was  carried  by  an  aqueduct  and  a  rock-hewn  trench 
to  the  northern  end  of  the  plain.  There  is  little 
to  indicate  the  site  of  the  citv,  except  an  occasional 
pier  of  the  aqueduct  and  tlie  substructures  of  a 
few  ancient  buildings  long  since  overthrown  and 
forgotten. 

The  natural  features  of  'Ain  et-Tdbigha  are  a 
safe  harbour,  a  good  anchorage,  a  lovely  outlook 
over  the  entire  lake,  a  shelving,  shelly  beach,  ad- 
mirably adapted  to  the  landing  of  fishing  boats, 
a  coast  free  from  debris  and  driftwood  ;  and  a  warm 
bath  of  water,  where  shoals  of  fish  ofttimes  crowd 
together  by  myriads,  '  their  backs  gleaming  above 
the  surface  as  they  bask  and  tumble  in  the  water ' 
(Macgregor,  Mob  Roy  on  the  Jordan,  p.  337).  Al- 
though surrounded  by  desolate  wastes,  this  is  still 
the  chief  '  Fishertown '  on  the  Lake,  where  nets 
are  dried  and  mended,  and  where  fish  are  taken 
and  sorted  for  the  market,  as  in  the  days  of 
Andrew,  Simon,  and  Philip. 

LiTERATORE.— Andrews,  Life  ofourLord'^,  pp.  230-236  ;  Kobin- 
son,  BRP'^u.  413,  and  iii.  358,  369 ;  Tristram,  Land  of  Israel, 
p.  418,  also  Topog.  of  the  Holy  Land,  pp.  259-261 ;  G.  A.  Smith, 
HGHL  457  f.;  'Thomson,  Land  and  Book,  ii.  423;  Stewart, 
Mem.  Places  among  the  Holy  Hills,  pp.  128-138 ;  Reland,  p.  653 ; 
Macgregor,  op.  cit.  pp.  834-343  and  360-372  ;  Merrill,  Pict.  Pal. 
i.  322 ;  Ewing  in  Hastings'  DB  i.  p.  282 ;  Baedeker-Socin,  Pal. 
255  f.;  Buhl,  GAP  241  ff.;  Sanday,  Sacred  Sites  (f  the  Gospels, 
41  f.,  46,  48,  91,  96.  R.  L.  STEWART. 


BETROTHAL 


BETRAYAL.— 

The  Gr.  verb  for  betray'  is  T«/i«5iSe.«(.  Titpiio^i;  never 
occurs  in  the  sense  of  '  betraj-al '  in  the  NT  ;  in  the  Gospels  it  is 
used  of  ■  the  traditim  of  the  elders '  (Mt  152-  3-  6= Mk  73-  6-  8. 9- 1-'), 
bv  St.  Paul  also  of  the  Christian  tradition  (1  Co  112,  2  Th  a'-J 
36).    Tf  »S.rr,-,  '  traitor/  occurs  in  Lk  616  ;  cf.  Ac  752,  2  Ti  3^. 

Had  Jesus  not  been  lietrayed  into  the  hands  of 
His  enemies,  His  death  -would  hardlj'  have  been 
averted,  but  it  would  have  been  delayed.  They 
would  fain  have  seized  Him  and  made  short  work 
of  Him,  but  they  dared  not.  He  was  the  popular 
hero,  and  they  perceived  that  His  arrest  would 
excite  a  dangeVous  tumult.  The  goodwill  of  the 
multitude  was  as  a  bulwark  about  Him  and  kept 
His  enemies  at  bay,  malignant  but  impotent.  The 
crisis  came  on  13th  Nisan,  two  days  before  tlie 
Passover  (Mt  26'-5=>Ik  14'-2=Lk  22i-=).  He  had 
met  the  rulers  in  a  succession  of  dialectical  en- 
counters in  the  court  of  the  Temple,  and  had 
completed  their  discomfiture  by  hui-ling  at  them 
in  presence  of  the  multitude  a  crushing  indictment. 
Enraged  beyond  endurance,  they  met  and  debated 
what  they  should  do.  They  were  resolved  upon 
His  death,  and  they  would  fain  have  seized  Him 
and  slain  Him  out  of  hand ;  but  they  dared  not, 
and  they  agreed  to  wait  until  the  Feast  was  over 
and  the  throng  of  worshippers  had  quitted  Jeru- 
salem. 'They  took  counsel  together  to  arrest 
Jesus  by  stealth  and  kill  him;  but  they  said: 
Not  during  the  Feast,  lest  there  arise  a  tumult 
among  the  people.' 

Such  was  the  situation  when,  all  unexpectedly, 
an  opportunity  for  immediate  action  presented 
itself.  Judas,  'the  man  of  Kerioth,'  one  of  the 
Twelve,  waited  on  the  high  priests,  probably  while 
Jesus  was  engaged  with  the  Greeks  (Jn  12-°-'™), 
and  offered,  for  sufficient  remuneration,  to  betray 
Him  into  their  hands.  Judas  was  a  disappointed 
man.  He  had  attached  himself  to  Jesus,  believing 
Him  to  be  the  Mes.siah,  and  expecting,  in  accord- 
ance with  the  current  conception  of  the  Messianic 
Kingdom,  a  rich  recompense  when  tlie  Master 
should  ascend  the  throne  of  His  father  David,  and 
confer  offices  and  honours  upon  His  faithful  fol- 
lowers. The  period  of  his  discipleship  had  been  a 
process  of  disillusionment,  and  latterly,  when  he 
jierceived  the  inevitable  issue,  he  had  determined 
to  abandon  what  he  deemed  a  sinking  cause,  and 
save  what  he  might  from  the  wTeck.  It  may  be 
also  that  he  desired  to  be  avenged  on  the  Master 
who,  as  he  deemed,  had  fooled  him  with  a  false 
hope.*  He  therefore  went  to  the  high  priests  and 
asked  what  they  would  give  him  to  betray  Jesus 
into  their  hands".  They  leaped  at  the  proposal,  and 
offered  him  thirty  shekels.  It  was  the  price  of 
a  slave,t  and  they  named  it  in  contempt  not  of 
Jesus  but  of  Judas.  Even  while  they  trafficked 
with  him,  they  despised  the  wTetch.  Impervious 
to  contempt,  he  accepted  their  offer ;  and,  as 
though  in  haste  to  be  rid  of  him,  they  paid  him 
the  money  on  the  spot. 

Such,  at  least,  is  St.  Matthew's  report.  St.  Mark  and  St.  Luke 
represent  them  as  merely  promisinfj  mone\%  the  amount  un- 
specified.   It  iiii;.'lit  lie  supposed  that  St.  Matthew's  account  is 


is^imilated  to  Zee  l\^'-  "  (cf.  Mt  27'- ") ;  but  (1)  Mt  273-=  proves 
Ihat  the  money  had  been  paid,  at  all  events  before  the  trial  of 
lesus  by  the  Sanhedrin.  ('-)  i 
literal  sense,  'weiifhed,'  need  1 


•  It  seems  hardlv  necessarv  to  refer  to  the  theory  popularized 
by  De  Quincey  {Works,  vi.  21(1.).  which  has  since  his  time 
found  favour  with  not  a  few.  This  ingenious  theory  seeks  to 
explain  the  conduct  of  Judas  by  attributing  the  betrayal  not 

■  spite,  but  to  an  honest,  if  mistaken,  deter- 

the  hand'  of  .lesus  and  compel  Him  to  a'ssert 
'iiit\-    and    hasten   the   eslalilishuient  of   His 


lilf  I'- 


ll born ').     For  a  full  discussion  of 

■  art-  JCDAS  ISCARIOT.  I 

■1:  'If  anyone  kills  a  slave,  good  or 


unhistorical  embellish- 

Mier.o   uu....>,.u   .,,,.. ,....,.....,..     Cf.  /'ivFSf,  Apr.    1896. 

n  15-^  ■  'To  this  day  it  is  usual  in' Jerus-alem  to  examine  and 
test'carefullv  all  coiiis  received.  Thus  a  Mudjidie  (silver)  is  ex- 
amined not'onlv  bv  the  eye,  but  also  by  noticing  its  ring  on  th_e 
stone  pavement',  and  English  sterling  gold  is  carefully  weighed, 
and  returned  when  defaced." 

It  remained  that  Judas  should  perform  his  part 
of  the  bargain,  but  he  encountered  a  difficulty 
■which  he  had  hardly  anticipated.  Jesus  was  aware 
of  his  design,  and,  anxious  to  eat  the  Passover  -with 
His  disciples  ere  He  suffered  (Lk  2-W),  He  took 
pains  to  checkmate  it.  The  next  day  was  the 
Preparation,  and,  when  His  disciples  asked  where 
He  would  eat  the  Supper,  He  gave  them  a 
mysterious  direction.  'Away  into  tlie  city,  He 
said  to  Peter  and  John,  '  and  there  shall  meet  you 
a  man  can-ying  a  pitcher  of  water:  follow  him.' 
Some  friend  in  Jerusalem  had  engaged  to  provide 
a  room  in  his  house,  and  Jesus  had  arranged  this 
stratagem  with  him,  in  order  that  Judas  might 
not  know  the  place  and  bring  in  the  rulers  in  the 
course  of  the  Supper*  (Mt  26"-'9=Mk  U>-'«  =  Lk 
22'-i3). 

That  evening,  as  they  reclined  at  table,  Jesus, 
desirous  of  being  alone  with  His  faithful  followers, 
made  the  startling  announcement :  '  One  of  you 
shall  betray  me,'  and,  amid  the  coiisteriiation  which 
ensued,  secretly  gave  Judas  his  dismissal.  The 
traitor  left  the  room,  and,  hastening  to  the  high 
priests,  summoned  them  to  action.     See  ArkesT. 

LrrER.\TrRE.-Hastings'  DB,  art.  '  Judas  Iscariot  • ;  Fairbairn, 
Stvdies  in  the  Life  0/ Christ,  p.  258  ff.;  Stalker,  Tnal and  Death 
ofJestis  Christ,  p.  llOff.;  Hanna,  Our  Lord's  ii/f  on  £(irtt  (cd. 
1SS21,  pp.  453-467;  Bruce,  Training  of  the  Twelve^  p.  362ff.; 
Ex-posTlor,  3rd  ser.  [1889],  p.  1665.;  D.  Smith,  The  Days  of  Bu 
Flesh,  p.  436fl.  DAVID  SMITH. 

BETROTHAL.— Betrothal  among  the  Jews  in 
the  time  of  Jesus,  like  so  many  other  social  in- 
stitutions, was  in  process  of  transition.  Jewish 
marriage  customs  were  in  origin  the  same  as  those 
of  other  Semitic  peoples,  but  Jewish  ci\-ilization 
was  far  removed  from  its  primitive  stages.  Un- 
fortunately there  is  little  positive  information  con- 
cerning tlie  ceremony  of  betrothal  in  NT  times 
proper.  The  Talmud'ic  seder  on  marriage  includes 
two  tractates,  Kcthuboth  and  Kiddushtn,  dealing 
largely  with  the  preliminaries  of  marriage,  the 
latter  especially  'ivith  betrothal,  but  it  is  con- 
siderably later  than  the  NT  period.  Accordingly, 
one  cannot  be  sure  that  the  elaborate  laws  therein 
set  forth  obtained  in  the  time  of  Jesus.  Yet 
it  is  possible  by  the  study  of  betrothal  customs  in 
Hebrew  and  in  Talmudic  times  to  form  a  highly 
probable  hypothesis  as  to  such  customs  in  the  time 
of  Jesus.  . 

1.  The  OT  betrothal  ceremony  perpetuated  in  a 
conventional  fashion  the  recollection  of  the  time 
when  a  woman  was  purchased  from  her  family. 
This  appears  in  the  Heb.  word  i?-!x  (Dt  20',  Hos 
lO'-"").  Yet  it  would  be  a  mistake  to  regard  the  use 
of  this  word  as  anything  more  than  a  conventional 
survival.  In  the  days  of  the  codes  and  the  pro- 
phets the  time  -was  long  past  when  a  man's  wife  was 
strictly  his  property.  At  the  same  time  it  is  clear 
that  when  a  -woman  was  designated  ("ly;  Ex  21'-  ») 
by  the  head  of  her  family  as  the  future  wife  of 
another  man,  there  was  paid  over  by  the  prospec- 
tive bridegroom  a  certain  sum  of  meney  (or  service, 
as  in  the  case  of  Jacob),  and  a  contract  which 
was  inviolable  was  then  entered  into  (Gn  34"=,  Ex 
22").  Until  the  time  of  the  marriage  proper  the 
bride-to-be  remained  in  her  own  family.     It  was 

*  Euth.  Zig.  on  Mt  26'9 :  Jrw  fti  pukHk  n,  olxitt,  'Uiiit: 
ixipxur,    Tfil   nU  hi^iiiXtv!   xtii  inxyiyf   loiTov,-  airi  !r/i»  tou 


BETROTHAL 


BILL 


201 


not  permissible  to  betroth  liev  to  any  otlier  man 
except  by  action  amounting  to  divorce,  and  any 
violation  of  the  rights  established  by  the  betrothal 
was  as  serious  as  if  the  two  persons  had  been 
actually  married  (Dt  2i-'--*).  In  the  OT  period 
it  is  not  possible  to  say  with  precision  just  how 
soon  the  betrothal  was  followed  by  the  wedding. 
In  later  times,  in  the  case  of  a  virgin  it  was  after 
the  lapse  of  a  year,  and  at  least  thirty  days  in  the 
case  of  a  widow ;  but  it  is  impossible  to  establish 
more  than  a  possibility  of  these  periods  in  OT 
times.  So,  too,  it  is  impossible  to  describe  with 
any  great  precision  the  betrothal  ceremony,  but 
it  certainly  included  the  payment  of  some  sum 
(mohar ;  in  addition  to  above  references,  see  1  S 
18^),  and  the  making  of  a  betrothal  contract 
(either  viva  vnrc,  Ezk'lG",  or  in  writing)  by  the 
prospective  bridegioom.  We  know  nothing  of  any 
formal  ceremony  or  of  the  use  of  a  ring  (unless 
[unlikely]  it  may  be  in  Gn  24^").  The  money  pay- 
ment belonged  originally  to  the  family  of  the 
woman,  but  gradusQly  came  to  belong  in  part  or 
wholly  to  the  Avoman  herself.  The  woman  might 
bring  wealth  to  her  husband,  as  in  the  case  of 
Eachel  and  Leah,  but  this  was  not  obligatory  in 
the  Hebrew  jieriod,  and  cannot  be  said  to  belong 
to  betrothal  as  such.  The  first  advances  might 
come  from  the  family  of  either  party.  There  is  no 
clear  evidence  that  the  young  woman  had  any 
right  of  appeal  from  the  clioice  of  her  family.  The 
bridegroom  himself  very  probably  did  not  conduct 
the  negotiations,  but  the  matter  was  in  the  hands 
of  a  third  party,  as  his  parents,  or  some  trusted 
servant  or  friend. 

After  the  Exile  the  custom  of  the  earlier  period 
seems  to  have  continued,  although  with  certain 
modifications.  The  payment  to  the  liride's  father 
on  the  part  of  the  prospective  groom  had  been 
increasingly  regarded  as  the  property,  at  least 
in  part,  of  the  bride.  Sndi  ;i,  ].ayMient  during 
this  period  was  often  suppli'inpnlr,!  'by  :i  <lowry  in 
the  true  sense  (To  8'-',  Sir  2r>- -).  No  (■.'.iisout  of'tlie 
girl  was  demanded,  nor  do  wo  know  of  the  recog- 
nition of  any  legal  age  of  consent,  unless,  as  in 
somewhat  later  times,  it  was  not  expected  tli.ii 
boys  would  marry  before  the  age  of  eighteen  w 
girls  before  twelve  (Ahoth  v.  21).  Althou[;li 
families  undoubtedljr  reached  some  sort  of  early 
arrangement,  there  is  no  clear  reference  to  the 
betrothal  of  children. 

2.  In  Talmudic  times  proper  there  was  a  distinct 
tendency  to  comlune  betrothal  with  the  wedding. 
At  present  the  wedding  ceremony  among  orthodox 
Jews  combines  the  two  elements  of  the  two  older 
ceremonies.  Possibly  because  of  Western  in- 
fluences the  Rabbis  became  more  insistent  upon 
the  right  of  the  girl  (at  least  if  she  had  reached 
her  majority,  whenever  that  may  have  been, 
l^idduskin,  41re)  to  give  consent,  Rab  especially 
nrgingit.  As  the  two  ceremonies  were  united, 
in  addition  to  the  former  betrothal  there  grew 
up  &  much  less  permanent  form  of  engagement 
similar  to  that  which  obtains  among  \Vestern 
peoples  to-day.  In  Jerusalem,  at  least,  there  scoiii 
to  have  been  certain  opportunities  (15  of  Ab  and 
Kippurim)  for  young  people  to  become  acquainted 
before  the  union  was  determined  upon.  All  men 
were  supposed  to  marry  before  the  age  of  20,  and 
the  age  of  women  was  a  few  j'ears  less.  (Jther 
tendencies  in  Talnuulic  times  wcro  the  fixing  of 
the  amount  of  the  dowry  at  not  k-ss  than  50  ziiz, 
that  of  the  mChar  at  200  zd:,  and  the  use  of  a 
peculiarly  shaped  ring.  It  is  interesting  to  note 
that  the  conventionalizing  of  tlie  mohiir  is  evi- 
denced in  the  words  which  are  now  nsod  for  the 
ceremony  of  betrothal:  \"c-\^p  '  i-oMsi'cr.ition,'  fciTN 
'betrothal,' I'm^i  'compact,'  c.vin  'conditions.' 

3.  Thus  the  ceremony  of  betrothal  in  NT  times 


probably  involved  the  following  acts:  (1)  A  con- 
tract drawn  up  by  the  parents  or  by  the  '  friend 
of  the  bridegroom.'  (2)  The  meeting  of  the  two 
families  concerned,  with  other  witnesses,  at  which 
time  the  groom  gave  the  bride  a  ring  and  declared 
his  intention  to  observe  the  terms  of  the  contract 
already  arranged.  (3)  The  payment  of  the  mohar. 
The  act  of  betrothal  gained  in  importance,  and  the 
two  parties  seem  to  linvi^  brrn  seated  under  a 
canopy  during  the  proccclnn'.  and  lln' ronijiany  to 
have  joined  in  an  inriiii^in^ly  jn\i,il  .  ('lil)ration. 
Strictly  speaking,  tliero  was  no  icIiL^ious  cciemony 
connected  with  the  act,  but  il  a  priest  were  present 
he  doubtless  pronounced  some  benediction  which 
was  subsequently  elaborated  into  that  used  by 
later  orthodox  Judaism'.  The  status  of  the  man 
and  woman  was  now,  as  in  Hebrew  times,  prac- 
tically the  same  as  that  of  married  jiersons,  al- 
though it  was  now  generally  customary  for  the 
wedding  ceremony  proper  to  be  celebrated  at  the 
expiration  of  a  year  in  the  ease  of  a  virgin,  and  in 
thirty  days  in  the  case  of  a  widow.  As  in  the 
older  times,  separation  of  betrothed  persons  de- 
manded a  divorce,  and  there  seems  to  have  been  no 
reason  why  they  should  not  live  together  as  man 
and  wife  without  a  subsequent  wedding  ceremony. 
The  children  of  such  a  union  would  be  regarded  as 
legitimate. 

So  far  as  the  relations  of  Maiy  and  Joseph  are 
concerned,  it  would  appear  from  the  narrative  in 
both  Matthew  and  Luke  that  in  their  case  the 
custom  of  the  Jews  was  followed.  The  description 
of  the  betrothal  in  the  Gospel  of  Marxj  is  clearly 
unhistorical  and  born  of  pious  imagination  ;  but 
we  are  justified  in  believing  that  Joseph  drew  up 
the  customary  contract,  paid  a  mohar  of  apju-oxi- 
mately  200  ziiz,  and  gave  Mary  a  ring.  After  the 
formal  betrothal  {//.PTjaTeiieii',  Alt  1",  Lk  1='  2^)  they 
are  reported  to  have  lived  together  without  a 
second,  or  wedding,  ceremony.  As  has  already 
appeared,  there  would  be  no  question  as  to  the 
legitimacy  of  children  born  of  such  a  union. 

T.urr  ■T-i-r  rniniilplf.  ,-lrtnil^  a^  (n  tlir-  Talnnldio  require- 
""'!^  !■     ■!  '-  L' l-.'ir..lli;il  :in- L'lM-'i  in  A':. /-'".^//oi. ;  see  also  the 

'  \  '  r.' •  I  .i;,i'j,i  111,.  ,/r/r(.^7/  /  Mr//,'',;; '  r/n/,  and  Mielziner, 
'  '/,,/,,',,;,  ,/,,,//',,,,,,,.  r,,i' III,- ancient  Hebrew 
I- n, III, I,  s,'r  I;,'ii7.iii--cr.  y/, /,.  .1,,//,  ],-  i:;.iir.  ;  and  Nowack, 
Jleh.  Ai-eh.  i.  ISilf.  Brief  ncoouiits  are  al.so  to  be  found  in 
Edersheini,  Sketches  of  Jewish  Sucial  LiJ'e,  and  j;ood  articles  in 
Hamburger,  Herzog,  Hastings'  DB,  and  in  the  Encyc.  Biblica, 

Shailer  Mathews. 

BIER The  Gr.  word  cropis  (Heb.  n?,?,  2  S  3»'), 

'  bier,'  more  strictly  means  '  a  coffin.'  Lk  7"  is 
the  only  place  where  the  word  appears  in  tlie  NT. 
The  bier  was  an  open  coffin,  or  simply  a  flat  wooden 
frame  on  which  the  body  of  the  dead  was  carried 
to  the  grave.  Closed  colli ns  were  not  used  in  the 
time  of  our  Lord.  According  to  theLevitical  Law, 
contact  with  a  dead  liody  was  forbidden  as  a  source 
of  defilement  (Nu  19""").  In  raising  to  life  the 
widow's  son  at  Nain,  Jesus,  by  touching  the  bier 
only,  avoided  any  infringement  of  the  letter  of  the 
Law.  But  the  miracle,  prompted  by  that  same  in- 
tense sympathy  with  human  sorrow  which  He  so 
strikingly  manifested  on  another  occasion  (,In  IP'), 
pointeil  to  a  higher  and  more  authoritative  law 
—that  Divine  eternal  law  of  compassion  which 
received  its  freest  and  fullest  expression  for  the 
first  time  in  His  own  life,  and  which  forms  one  of 
the  most  distinctive  features  of  His  Gospel. 

DuGALD  Clark. 

BILL.— 1.  Bill  of  divorcement :  Mk  10*,  Mt  19' 
(RV):  Gr.  ^i/3\(oi'  (a  scroll  or  letter)  diroffracrlov; 
shorter  equivalent,  diroo-Tdo-ioc  Mt  5-".     In  all  three 

Passages  the  expression  is  used  of  the  nn'l?  nsP 
emanded  in  Dt  24'-*  of  the  husband  who  divorces 
his  wife.  In  contrast  with  the  older  usage— still 
prevalent  in  the  East— of  divorce  by  a  merely 
verbal  process,  the  need  of  preparing  a  written 


202 


bijS^dixg  and  LOOSIXG 


BIRTH  OF  CHRIST 


document  was  calculated  to  be  a  bar  against  hasty 
or  frivolous  action,  while  the  bill  itself  served  tlie 
divorced  wife  as  a  certificate  of  her  right  to  marry 
again.  The  Rabbis,  who  dwelt  with  special  gusto 
('non  sine  complacentia  quadam' — Lightfoot)  on 
the  subject  of  divorce,  had  drawn  up  regulations 
as  to  the  proper  wording  of  the  bill  of  divorcement, 
its  sealing  and  witnessing,  and  the  number  of  lines 
— neither  less  nor  more  than  twelve — the  writing 
must  occupy.  In  the  eyes  of  Jesus,  no  document, 
however  formal,  could  prevent  divorce  from  being 
a  violation  of  God's  purpose  in  instituting  marriage. 
See  Lightfoot,  Hor.  Heb.  in  Mt  5^K 

2.  A  bond  (so  RV)  or  written  acknowledgment 
of  debt,  Lk  IB"- ' :  Gr.  (Ti.,  Tr.,  WH)  to  ypd^L^Lara, 
(TR)  tA  ypa/xfia.  The  word  itself  is  indefinite 
(literally  =  '  the  letters'),  and  throws  no  light  upon 
a  question  much  discussed  by  commentators  on  the 
parable  of  the  Unjust  Steward,  viz.  AVas  the  bond 
merely  an  acknowledgment  of  a  debt,  or  was  it  an 
undertaking  tc  pay  a  fixed  annual  rental  from  the 
produce  of  a  farm?  Edersheim  decides,  though 
•\rithout  giving  his  reasons,  for  the  former  alter- 
native :  Lightfoot  inclines  to  the  latter.  Against 
the  theory  of  a  simple  debt  is  the  fact  that  the 
amount  of  the  obligation  is  stated  in  kind— wheat 
and  oil — and  not  in  money ;  and  the  probability 
of  the  story  is  heightened  if  we  are  to  understand 
that  the  remissions  authorized  by  the  steward- 
amounting  in  money  value,  according  to  Edersheim, 
to  the  not  very  considerable  sums  of  £5  and  £25 
respectively — affected  not  a  single  but  an  annual 
payment.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  as  van  Koets- 
feld,  who  argues  strongly  for  the  view  that  the 
document  was  of  the  nature  of  a  lease,  admits, 
there  is  no  precedent  for  the  word  (xpco0iXe- 
rat)  rendered  '  debtors '  being  used  for  tenants. 
Jiilicher  dismisses  the  whole  controversy  as  ir- 
relevant. Another  point  in  dispute  is  whether 
the  old  bond  was  altered,  or  a  new  one  substituted 
for  it.  Lightfoot  and  Edersheim  again  take  dif- 
ferent sides.  The  alteration  of  the  old  bond  is 
suggested,  though  not  absolutely  demanded,  by 
thelan^age  of  the  passage,  and  would  be,  accord- 
ing to  Edersheim,  in  accordance  with  the  probabil- 
ities of  the  case.  Acknowledgments  of  debt  were 
usually  written  on  wax-covered  tablets,  and  could 
easily  be  altered,  the  stylus  in  use  being  provided, 
not  only  with  a  sharp-pointed  kothebh  or  writer, 
but  mth  a  flat  thick  inoh.ek  or  eraser.  In  any  case 
it  is  clear  that  the  '  bill '  was  written  by  the  person 
imdertaking  the  obligation  ;  that  it  was  the  only 
formal  evidence  of  the  obligation  ;  and  that  its 
supervision  belonged  to  the  functions  of  the 
steward.  Hence,  should  the  steward  conspire  with 
the  debtors  against  his  master's  interests,  the 
latter  had  no  check  upon  the  fraud. 

Ln-ERATi-RE.— Edersheim,  Life  and  Times  of  Jesus  the  Messiah, 
ii.  S68-273;  Lijrhtfoot,  Bor.  Heb.,  in  Inc.;  see  also  the  various 
commentators  on  the  Parables.  K 0E5I-\X  ERASER. 

BINDING  AND  LOOSING.-See  Cjjsabea  Phi- 
LiPPi,  Keys. 

BIRD.— See  Animals,  p.  65*. 

BIRTH  OF  CHRIST.- 

i.  St  Luke's  account. 

1.  Jewish  element  and  colouring. 

2.  Objfctions  takf-n  to  the  contents  of  Lk  1.  2. 

5.  ProlnTV-  -nurrr^  nf  ST.  Luke's  information. 
4.  Pr-ilii.  1..  ,1,  --  .n.  I  ,.pl^  birthplace. 

6.  Th.'  .  .  :  -         ■(!,..     ■-, 
u.  St.  Mattli. 

2.  Keluliuii  (o  .Ifwi^ii  If^'ul  requirements. 

3.  Sobriety  and  delicacy  of  the  narrative 

4.  Objections  taken  to  the  contents  of  Mt  1.  ~. 
Apocr>i)hal  i 


i.  St.  Luke's  account. — 1,  Jcu-ish  clement  and 
colouring. — The  two  accounts  of  our  Lord's  birth 
in  the  Gospels  carrj'  us  at  once  into  the  very  heart 
of  Jewish  home  life.  In  the  fuller  account  of  the 
two,  that  of  St.  Luke,  the  evidence  of  this  Jewish 
element  has  been  materially  strengthened  by  recent 
literature  and  discussion.  No  one,  c.j/.,  can  read 
the  early  Canticles  in  St.  Luke's  Gospel  without 
noticing  their  intensely  Jewi.sh  character.  This 
was  amply  shown  by  Ryle  and  James  in  their 
edition  of  the  Psalms  of  Solomon  (see  esp.  pp.  xci, 
xcii),  a  work  which  may  fairly  be  placed  some 
half  century  or  so  before  our  Lord's  Advent.  In 
the  same  manner  Chase  has  illustrated  many  points 
of  contact  between  these  Canticles  and  the  lan- 
guage of  the  Eighteen  Prayers  of  the  synagogue.* 
More  recently  Sanday  has  emphasized  the  same 
argument,  more  especially  in  relation  to  the  Bene- 
(lictits,  in  which  he  finds  quite  a  pUing  up  of  ex- 
pressions characteristic  of  the  old  popular  Messianic 
expectation  ;  the  first  five  or  six  verses  are  quite 
sufficient  to  mark  this  essentially  pre-Christian 
character  (Critical  Questions,  p.  133 ;  see  also 
Nebe,  Die  Kindheitsgeschichtc  iinseres  Herrn  Jesu 
Christi  nach  Matthiiits  und  Lukas  ansgelegt,  1893, 
p.  166  ff.;  s.nAeyexiGxnik&\,  Zttmreligion^geschicht- 
lichen  Verstdndniss  des  ^'T,  1903,  p.  67).t 

This  question  of  the  composition  cf  the  Canticles  in  St.  Luke 
is  a  very  important  one,  because  it  is  constantly  assumed  that 
they  were  the  invention  of  the  author  of  the  Third  Gospel. 
But  in  this  case  we  have  to  assvune  that  the  Greek  Luke,  or 
some  unknown  writer,  was  able  to  transfer  himself  in  thought 
to  a  time  when  Jewish  national  hopes,  which  were  shattered  by 
the  L  te  of  the  capital,  were  still  vividly  cherished  in  Jewish 
circles,  and  that  he  was  able  to  express  those  hopes  in  the 
popular  language  current  at  the  date  of  our  Lord's  birth  with 
a  marked  absence  of  any  later  Christian  conceptions,  t 

And  yet  with  all  this  Jewish  colourino;  there  is 
in  these  Canticles  a  depth  and  a  charm  which  have 
appealed  to  men  everywhere  throughout  the  Chris- 
tian centuries.  No  one  recognized  the  Jewish  ele- 
ment in  these  early  chapters  of  St.  Luke  more 
frankly  than  M.  Kenan  ;  but  lie  could  also  \^-rite  of 
the  Magnificat,  Gloria  in  E.rcclsis,  Benedictns, 
Nunc  Dimittis :  '  Never  were  sweeter  songs  in- 
vented to  put  to  sleep  the  sorrows  of  poor  humanity  ' 
(Les  ivangiles,  p.  278). 

2.  Objections  taken  to  the  contents  of  Lk  1.  2. — 
The  extravagant  assertion  must,  of  course,  not  be 
forgotten,  that  we  owe  these  opening  chapters  of 
St.  Luke,  or  at  least  some  of  their  details,  to  the 
influence  of  other  great  Eastern  religions.  A  dis- 
cussion of  this  assertion  may  more  properly  be 
referred  to  the  art.  Virgin  Birth.  §    But  a  word 

*  "The  Lord's  Prayer  in  the  Earlv  Church '  (.TS  i.  3,  p.  147  ff.). 

t  Harnack,  in  his  Reden  und  Aufsaize,  i.  p.  307  ff.  (1904), 
maintains  that  while  St.  Luke  has  undoubtedly  used  a  Jewish- 
Christian  document  in  chs.  1  and  2.  he  has  also  introduced 
touches  acceptable  to  a  Greek,  and  that  one  word,  in  common 
use  to-day,  was  wanting  in  the  original  Christian  phraseology, 
the  word"'  Saviour.'  According  to  Harnark,  we  owe  this  word 
to  St.  Luke,  a  word  so  often  used  by  tlu-  c;rifks  to  designate 
their  gods,  and  thus  it  found  its  \\a',  iiiT'  l.k  J'l.  St.  Pau! 
scarcelv  knew  it;  hut  shortiv  after  his  tiiii'.  when  wc  come 
to  St,  Luke,  it  is  otherwise.  It  is  furtlji-r  armuni  I  hat  we  look 
for  the  word  in  vain  in  St.  Mark  or  St.  Matthew.  But,  to 
say  nothing  of  its  use  by  St.  John,  cf.  Jn  4*-  and  1  Jn  4",  St. 
Matthew  (121)  emphasizes  the  meaning  of  the  word  Jestis, 
'  for  it  is  he  that  shall  save  (,r»o-<.)  his  people  from  their  sins ' ; 
and  St.  Paul  in  his  first  recorded  missionary  address  speaks 
of  '  a  Saviour  Jesus '  (s-a-Tr/j  'iKo-oi;?),  and  connects  His  coming 
with  the  remission  of  sins  (Ac  132).  3S).  Cf.  Ph  3-0  and  Ac  531, 
an  admittedly  early  source);  also  Ps-Sol  109  166. 

!  Zahn  well  remarks;  'Passages  like  Lk  1-2,  which  in  their 
narrative  portions  and  the  psalms  introduced  can  be  compared 
for  poetical  grace  and  genuinely  Israelitish  spirit  only  with  the 
most  beautiful  portions  of  the  Books  of  Samuel,  could  not  have 
been  composed  by  a  Greek  like  St.  Luke '  (Einleitung,  ii.  p. 
4W).  'The  whole  p.as.sage  should  be  consulted.  On  the  minute 
account  of  the  ritual  in  the  Temple  (Lk  'Z-"),  and  its  signifi- 
cance as  pointing  to  an  earlv  date  for  the  narrative,  see  Sanday 
(/.r.  p.  135),  and  the  Church  Quarterly  Berittc,  Oct.  1904,  p.  194, 
The  whole  point  of  St  Luke's  full  acquaintance  with  the  legal 
ritual  is  well  brought  out  by  B.  Weiss  (Leben  Jesu,  i.  p.  237). 

§  See,  however,  amongst  the  most  recent  writers,  A.  Jeremias, 
Babj/lonisches  im  ST,  pp.  48,  49,  and  his  able  criticism. 


BIRTH  OF  CHRIST 


BIRTH  OF  CHRIST 


may  here  be  said  ujion  the  most  recent  attempt  to 
trace  this  alleged  influence,  in  Indische  Einjliissc 
mif  cvangclischc  Erm/ilmifjcn,  by  G.  A.  van  den 
Burgh  van  Eysinga,  1904.  On  p.  22  ft'.  a  whole 
series  of  alleged  parallels  is  quoted  between  the 
coming  of  the  aged  Simeon  into  the  Temple  and 
the  coming  of  the  sage  Asita  into  the  Palace  to 
do  homage  to  the  infant  Buddha.  While  the 
writer  is  constrained  (p.  23)  to  admit  that  the 
whole  of  the  story  of  Simeon  is  told  in  a  strongly 
Hebraistic  style,  he  maintains  that  it  is  not  said 
that  the  original  motive  of  the  incident  is  also  of 
Hebrew  origin.  But  in  this  connexion  it  is  very 
significant  tliat,  while  a  supposed  parallel  is  alleged 
between  every  verse  which  tells  of  Simeon  (Lk 
'2^-'^)  and  the  story  of  Asita,  there  is  one  verse 
(v.-«)  for  which  no  parallel  is  adduced  ;  and  it  is 
difficult  to  see  that  any  other  than  a  motive  of 
Hebrew  origin  could  inspire  such  words  as  these  : 
'  and  it  had  been  revealed  unto  him  by  the  Holy 
Spirit  that  he  should  not  see  death  before  he  had 
seen  the  Lord's  Christ.'  The  contrast  is  rightly 
marked  between  the  pious  resignation  of  Simeon 
and  the  wail  of  Asita  over  his  departure  amid  the 
ruins  of  old  age  and  death.  But  what  could  be 
more  absurd  than  to  find  a  parallel  {p.  22)  between 
Asita  taking  his  path  across  the  sky  liy  the  way 
of  the  wind,  and  the  statement  of  St.  Luke  that 
Simeon  came  iy  rip  wpeOfiaTt  into  the  Temple  ? 

From  a  somewhat  dift'erent  point  of  view  these 
Jewish  conceptions  are  noteworthy.  In  Lk  P-  we 
read  :  '  He  shall  be  great,  and  shall  be  called  the 
Son  of  the  Most  High:  and  the  Lord  God  shall 
give  unto  him  the  throne  of  his  father  David  :  and 
he  shall  reign  over  the  house  of  Jacob  for  ever ; 
and  of  his  kingdom  there  shall  be  no  end.'  Here 
again  we  have  language  closely  resembling  tliat 
of  the  Psalms  of  Solomon,  e.g.  IV'  *•  -',  full  of 
Jewish  thought  and  expectation,  expressing  the 
hopes  of  the  times  at  which  it  purj^orts  to  be 
written,  but  scarcely  such  as  would  have  been  in- 
vented by  a  Christian  composer.*  But  we  are 
asked  to  believe  that  into  the  midst  of  this  Jewish 
language  .some  Christian  writer  wished  to  intro- 
duce a  statement  of  our  Lord's  virgin  birth,  and 
that  he  did  so  by  the  interpolation  of  the  next  two 
verses,  Lk  l^^-  ss.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  there  is  no 
valid  ground  for  regarding  these  two  verses  as 
interpolated.  They  are  retained  by  the  most  dis- 
tinguished editors  of  the  NT  both  in  England  and 
Germany,  e.g.  WH,  Blass,  Nestle  ;  even  Uunkel 
can  see  no  reason  for  (heir  I'Xfision  (Zum  rdigiom- 
geschichtUchen  \',r^f,nnl,ii^<J,\sXT,  1903,  p.' 66). 

There  are  one-  <.i  1\m.  p.. mis  connected  with  this 
alleged  interpululi..ii  «lii(li  we  may  notice  with- 
out encroaching  upon  the  art.  VlRoiN  Birth. 

(a)  We  are  struck  witli  the  extraordinary  reserve 
and  brevity  of  the  statement,  a  reserve  which 
characterizes  the  whole  story  in  Lk  I.  2.  These 
two  verses  (\^--«>)  contain,  we  are  told,  the  only 
reference  to  the  virgin  birth.  Let  us  suppose  for  a 
moment  that  this  is  so ;  and  if  so  we  cannot  but 
contrast  the  language  with  that  of  the  Protevan- 
geliuni  Jacobi,  witli  its  fantastic  and  prurient 
details,  or  even  with  that  portion  of  the  Ascension 
of  Isaiah,  viz.  the  Vision  of  Isaiah,  which  carries 
us  back,  according  to  Charles,  within  the  lines  of 
the  first  Christian  century  {Ascen.  Is.  p.  xxiiff.). 

(b)  Let  us  suppose  that  these  two  verses  are  no 
longer  to  find  a  place  in  the  story,  what  then?  It 
has  been  urged  with  truth  that  the  whole  of  St. 
Luke's  narrative  is  impregnated  with  the  under- 
lying idea  that  when  Christ  was  born  His  mother 
was  a  virgin,  and  that  it  is  impossible  to  omit 
this  element  without  destroying  the  whole  (Church 
Quarterly  Beview,  July  1904,  p.  383). 

'  of  the 


"The  Christian  hehet,' writes  Professor  V.  Rose  of  Fribnurg-, 
'  is  manifest  from  the  whole  trend  of.tlie  Gosjiel  of  the  Infancv. 
Mary  it  is  who,  contrary  to  all  Hebrew  nse,  ai)pears  alone  npon 
the  scene.  While  Zacharias  receives  the  celestial  promise  of 
the  birth  of  a  son,  while  he  himself  hymns  the  opeiiin;^  of  the 
Messianic  era  and  the  destiny  of  John,  Joseph  plays  not  the 
smallest  part  in  the  mystery  of  Jesus.  Mary  is  entirely  in  the 
foreground  :  to  her  the  angel  addresses  himself  ;  the  prophecy 
of  Zechariah  has  to  do  with  her ;  she  speaks  to  the  child  found 
in  the  Temple ;  Joseph  says  nothing ;  he  keeps  in  the  back- 
ground. His  position  in  the  family  is  that  of  guardian,  the 
supporter  of  Mary,  the  protector  of  Jesus'  (Studies  in  the 
Gospels,  1903,  p.  72). 

(e)  If  the  interpolator  of  these  two  verses  in 
question  had  done  his  work  so  '  clearly  and  effec- 
tively' as  Schmiedel  maintains,  it  is  surely  sur- 
prising that  he  should  have  allowed  any  of  those 
passages  in  the  original  document  to  stand  which 
could  refer  in  any  way  to  Joseph's  parentage. 
These  references,  e.g.  2-'-^^-  ■"•  ■"■  ■"*,  would  have 
seriously  impaired  both  the  clearness  and  effective- 
ness of  his  work.  But  suppose,  on  the  other  hand, 
that  the  whole  story  comes  to  us  from  one  who  was 
well  acquainted  with  all  the  facts  of  the  case, 
we  can  then  understand  why  he  could  allow  the 
passages  about  Joseph  to  stand  ;  in  common  esti- 
mation our  Lord  passed  for  the  son  of  Joseph ; 
IJrobably  in  the  register  of  births  He  was  thus  de- 
scribed ;  and  from  a  social  point  of  view  it  was 
necessary,  as  we  shall  see,  that  this  should  be  so. 

3.  Probable  sources  of  St.  Luke's  information. — 
St.  Luke's  account  gives  us  not  only  a  picture  of 
Jewish  home  life,  but  it  also  reveals  the  workings 
of  a  Jewish  mother's  heart ;  it  gives  us  with  un- 
mistakable clearness,  and  yet  with  the  utmost 
delicacy  and  reserve,  information  which  could 
scarcely  have  come  from  any  one  in  the  first  in- 
stance but  a  woman  (this  is  admirably  shown  by 
Ramsay  in  the  second  chapter  of  Was  Christ  born 
a.t  Bethlehem  ?).  Whether  this  information  reached 
St.  Luke  through  a  written  document  or  whether 
it  came  to  him  orally,  we  cannot  say,  and  from 
the  present  point  of  view  it  does  not  matter.  For 
the  impression  which  is  derived  from  his  account  is 
twofold, — not  only  that  it  is  of  Palestinian  origin, 
but  also  that  it  is  derived  from  JNlary  the  mother 
of  the  Lord,  or  from  those  who  were  closely  ac- 
quainted with  her.* 

It  has  been  lately  suggested,  with  much  force  and  learning, 
that  the  information  derived  in  the  first  place  from  the  Virgin 
herself  may  have  reached  St.  Luke  through  Joanna  (Sanday, 
Critical  (Jurstions,  p.  iri7).  Evidently  St.  Luke  had  some  special 
source  ol  information  comiected  with  the  court  of  the  Herods, 
and  Joanna  the  wife  of  Chuza,  Herod's  steward,  appears  no 
fewer  than  four  times  upon  the  stage  of  the  Gospel  history. 
She  accompanies  our  Lord  amongst  the  other  women  in  Galilee  ; 
she  was  one  of  the  group  of  women  who  had  witnessed  the 
Crucifixion,  and  who  afterwards  went  to  the  grave  on  the 
morning  of  the  first  Easter  Day  ;  and  it  may  be  safely  inferred 
that  she  was  one  of  the  women  in  the  upper  room  after  the 
Ascension.  We  can  scarcely  doubt  that  she  and  the  Virgin 
Mother  were  often  in  each  other's  company.  It  may,  of  course, 
be  alleged  that  St.  Luke's  news  about  the  Herods  may  have 
reached  him  through  other  channels,  and  that  there  is  no  proof 
that  he  was  personally  acquainted  with  Joanna. 

If  credit  be  allowed  to  the  Acts  of  the  Apostles, 
it  would  seem  that  St.  Luke  himself,  as  also  St. 

*  See  the  remarks  of  Wi  ill-'  f   tl     r    ,„  ?,  ,',j 

ffrfeiz,  p. 202;  Dalman, /'''  n  i  I      mh  iit,mpt« 

have  been  made  to  astiil  .    i         )  :     I  I     li    ih,  and 

the  arguments  for  and  a„  cm  i     I    ii   i  in  yfii'-' 


ij,  P- 


HamtiCk  (Sitzvngsb.  d.  A. 
Berlin,  xxvii.  1900),  it  is  il 
lowhness  of  his  handmaid 
with  the  words  of  Mary  ti 
the  Lord'(Lk  1*8),  and  ti 


;',".:  ;,\:'?;s 


p    136, 
(le  NT, 


n.  504(1905).  The  contiast  lai  exieeds  am  comparison,  as  these 
writers  show.  The  combination  in  Mary  of  the  deepest  humility 
with  a  firm  consciousness  of  her  ow  n  high  calling  and  future 
renown  is  very  striking.  See,  further,  Burn,  Niceta  of  Betnen- 
ana,  1205,  p.  oliiifl. 


204 


BIRTH  OF  CHRIST 


BIRTH  OF  CHRIST 


Paul,  may  well  have  come  into  personal  contact 
A^'ith  one  or  more  members  of  the  Holy  Family. 
We  read,  for  instance,  in  Ac  21'*,  in  one  of  the 
'  We '  sections  of  that  book  :  '  And  the  day  follow- 
in"  Paul  went  in  with  us  unto  James  ;  and  all  the 
elders  were  present.'  How  much  St.  Luke  may 
have  learnt  from  St.  James  the  Lord's  brother,  it  is, 
of  course,  presumptuous  to  say ;  but  he  may  at 
least  have  learnt  something  during  his  stay  in 
Jerusalem  as  to  the  place  and  the  circumstances 
connected  with  our  Lord's  birth.  We  cannot  for- 
get the  Evangelist's  claim  to  have  traced  the 
course  of  all  things  accurately  from  the  first  (Lk 
V),  and  he  would  scarcely  have  neglected  the 
opportunities  of  information  which  were  open  to 
him  in  Jerusalem  and  afterivards  in  Cspsarea. 

4.  Bethlehem  as  our  Lord's  hirthplacc. — The  in- 
tercourse just  referred  to  would  at  least  have  saved 
St.  Luke  from  the  gross  geographical  blunder 
which  he  has  been  accused  of  making  at  the  outset 
of  his  history,  the  blunder  of  confusing  Bethlehem- 
Judah  with  another  Bethlehem  in  Galilee  (see,  in 
relation  to  this  alleged  blunder,  Knowlin",  Our 
Lord's  Virgin,  Birth  ajid  the  Critieism  of  To-day, 
pp.  6-13).  But  the  recently  published  remarks  of 
Sanday  may  well  be  remembered  in  this  connexion 
(Sacred  Sites  of  the  Gospels,  p.  25)  :— 

•There  are  two  Bethlehems,  the  second  in  Galilee,  ahout 
seven  miles  west  of  Nazareth,  and  it  has  recently  been  sn;^- 
gested  in  the  Eneiic.  Bihlica  that  the  Galilean  Bethlehem  was 
the  true  scene  of  the  Nativity.  There  would  be  real  advan- 
ta*jes  if  Bethlehem  could  be  thought  of  as  near  to  Nazareth. 
But  to  obtain  this  result  we  have  to  go  entirely  behind  our 
Gospels.  Both  St.  JIatthew  and  St.  Luke  are  express  in  plac- 
ing the  birth  of  Christ  at  Bethlehem  of  Judtea.  And  as  their 
narratives  are  whoUj'  independent  of  each  other,  and  differ  in 
most  other  respects,  it  is  clear  that  we  have  on  this  point  a 
convergence  of  two  distinct  traditions.' 

Professor  Usener,  indeed,  fastens  upon  the  i)as- 
sage  Jn  7*"',  and  sees  in  it  the  hidden  path  by 
wliich  Bethlehem  found  its  way  into  the  Gospel 
tradition  (Ennjc.  Bibl.  iii.  3347).  But  there  is  no 
reason  for  supposing  that  tlie  ^vriter  of  tlie  Fourth 
Gospel  was  himself  unaware  of  our  Lord's  liirth  at 
Bethlehem,  because  he  expresses  the  popular  ex- 
pectation of  the  ignorant  multitude.  If  tlie  Gospel 
was  WTitten  at  the  late  date  demanded  by  advanced 
critics,  his  ignorance  of  such  a  belief  would  be 
altogether  unaccountable.  (Juite  apart  from  our 
Gospels,  Charles  would  refer  the  remarkable  pas- 
sage in  the  Ascension  of  Isaiah  \\-~  to  a  very 
early  date,  deriving  it  from  the  archetype  which 
he  canies  back  to  the  close  of  the  1st  cent,  {hit rod. 
pp.  xxii-xlv) ;  and  from  a  comparison  of  v.-  and  v.'- 
it  can  scarcely  be  doubted  that  Bethlehem-Judah 
was  meant  throughout  the  narrative  as  the  scene 
of  our  Lord's  birth.  But  if  the  writer  of  the 
Fourth  Gospel  was  St.  John,  it  is  a  most  arbitraiy 
procedure  to  see  in  this  passage  (T'"')  any  proof 
that  the  place  of  the  Nativity  was  unknown  to 
him.  Are  we  to  suppose  that  St.  John  was  also 
ignorant  of  our  Lord  s  descent  from  David  ?  *  an 
inference  which  might  equally  seem  to  follow  from 
the  passage  Ijefore  us,  unless  we  remember  that 
the  Evangelist  is  presupposing  that  his  readers 
would  Ije  well  aware  of  the  true  descent  of  Jesus 
and  the  actual  place  of  His  birth  (see  this  point 
admirably  put  by  Ramsay,  11  Vm  Christ  born  at 
BctlUehe.m?  p.  96). 

Nor  does  the  fact  that  our  Lord  was  popularly 
known  as  Jesus  of  Nazareth  in  anj-  way  interfere 
with  the  truth  that  He  was  born  at  Bethlehem. 


a  town  where  his  youth  and  early  manhood  Iiavt 
been  passed,  ratlier  than  after  the  actual  place  o: 

•  On  the  descent  of  Jesus  from  Darid  see  especially  Daln 
iJie  n'orte  Jem,  i.  203  :  also  Charles,  Axcension  of  Isaiah  \ 
For  the  meaning  of  Jn  7-uf-  see,  further,  S&lmoD,  Jntrodutti 
to  the  NT',  p.  277. 


his  birth,  in  which  his  parents  may  have  sojourned 
for  a  while  (B.  Weiss,  Leben  Jesn*,  i.  227).  It 
will,  of  course,  be  said  that  prophecy  pointed  to 
our  Lord's  birth  at  Bethlehem,  and  that  St. 
Matthew  (2")  distinctly  quotes  ftlicah's  words  in 
this  connexion.  But  was  the  prophecy  fulfilled? 
On  the  one  hand,  we  are  asked  to  believe  that  St. 
Luke  starts  his  narrative  not  only  with  a  geographi- 
cal, but  also  with  a  grave  historical  blimder,  and 
that  he  confuses  an  enrolment  of  Herod  w  ith  the 
subsequent  enrolment,  some  ten  years  later,  of  Ac 
5".  On  the  other  hand,  it  is  ur™d  that  St.  Luke's 
accuracy,  so  well  attested  in  other  respects,  would 
have  saved  him  from  making  an  initial  and  need- 
less error,  and  that  the  least  consideration  would 
have  prevented  him  from  connecting  such  an  event 
as  an  enrolment  of  the  people  with  the  birth  of 
the  Messiah  at  Bethlehem,  unless  it  was  true. 
Undoubtedly  both  OT  prediction  and  Rabbinic 
teaching  pointed  to  Bethlehem,  yet  the  prophecy 
was  fulfilled  according  to  the  Gospel  story  by  the 
introduction  of  a  set  of  circumstances  which  were 
strangely  alien  to  Jewish  national  thought  and 
prestige :  '  a  counting  of  the  people,  or  census, 
and  that  census  taken  at  the  bidding  of  a  heathen 
emperor,  and  executed  by  one  so  universally  hated 
as  Herod,  would  represent  the  ne  phis  iiltra  of 
all  that  was  most  repugnant  to  Jewish  feeling' 
(Edersheim,  Jesui  the  Messiah,  i.  181).  At  any 
rate,  we  know  quite  enough  of  Jewish  suscepti- 
bilities and  of  Jewish  fanaticism  in  the  1st  cent, 
of  our  era  to  be  sure  that  a  ruler  like  Herod, 
and  in  his  position,  wotild  naturally  guard  against 
any  undue  exasperation  of  Jewish  national  and 
religious  feeling.  If  it  is  urged  that  the  story 
of  the  Nativity  was  bound  in  any  case  to  bring 
Joseph  and  Mary  to  Bethlehem,  the  city  of  David, 
it  would  have  been  easier  and  more  significant  to 
have  adopted  the  theory  of  Strauss,  to  the  effect 
that  tlie  parents  were  led  to  go  to  Bethlehem  by 
the  appearance  of  an  angel,  especially  when  we 
remember  that  the  frequent  introduction  of  an- 
gelic visitors  is  described  as  one  of  the  special 
characteristics  of  the  writings  of  St.  Luke. 

5.  The  censm  of  Qvirinius.— It  is  one  of  the 
great  merits  of  Professor  Ramsay's  theoiT,  that  it 
not  only  claims  credibility  for  the  enrolment  of 
Lk  2-  as  an  historical  event,  but  that  it  also  com- 
bines with  that  claim  a  due  recognition  of  Jewish 
national  prejudices.  The  word  for  'enrolment' 
(diro7pa(/>77),  or  its  plural,  was  the  word  for  the 
periotlic  enrolments  which  beyond  all  doubt  were 
made  in  Egypt,  ijrobably  initiated  by  Augustus. 
These  enrolments  were  numberin^s  of  the  people 
according  to  households,  and  had  nothing  to  do 
with  the  valuation  for  purposes  of  taxation.  But 
H.  Holtzmann  urges  in  objection  that  Egypt  is  not 
Syria  (Hand-Commentar  ziim  NT,  1901,  p.  316). 
On  the  other  hand,  however,  it  does  not  seem 
unreasonable  to  suppose  that  such  enrolments 
would  take  place  in  other  parts  of  the  empire,* 
especially  under  a  ruler  so  systematic  as  Augustus  ; 
and  this  probability  Ramsay  has  not  forgotten  to 
illustrate.  Moreover,  as  the  same  writer  urges, 
we  have  to  take  into  account  the  delicate  and 
difficult  ixjsition  of  Herod,  who  was  obliged,  on  the 
one  hand,  to  carry  out  the  Imperial  policy,  whilst, 
on  tho  othor  hand,  he  was  called  upon  to  rule  over 


stances  would  he  more  likely  than  that  Herod 
would  endeavour  to  give  a  tribal  and  family 
character  to  the  enrolment,  in  fact,  to  conduct  it 

1  rlner  (art    'Quirinius'  in  Encyc.  Bibl.  iv.  3ff.) 

p  or  two  definite,  though  not  conclusive  pieces 

in  to  mdicate  that  this  periodical  census  was  not 

1  (     t^vpt,  but  was,  in  some  cases  at  all  events,  ex- 


BIRTH  OF  CHRIST 


BIRTH  OF  CHRIST 


205 


on  national  lines  wliich  would  haiinonize  as  far  as 
was  possible  with  Jewish  sentiment.*  Here  prob- 
ably lies  the  true  distinction  between  the  first 
enrolment,  which  was  one  of  a  series,  and  the  en- 
rolment (Ac  6^')  which  was  conducted  after  the 
Roman  fashion,  and  became  the  cause  not  only  of 
indignation,  but  of  reliellion.  Here,  too,  we  have 
the  probable  explanation  as  to  why  Joseph  and 
the  Virgin  Mother  left  their  home  at  Nazareth  for 
Bethlehem.  \i  the  enrolment  had  been  taken  on 
Roman  lines,  there  would  have  been  no  motive  for 
the  journey,  since  in  that  case  only  a  recognition 
of  existin<;  political  and  social  facts  would  have 
been  involved  ;  but  in  tlie  present  instance  the 
Roman  method  was  judiciously  modified  by  the 
introduction  of  a  numbering  not  only  by  house- 
holds, but  by  tribes.  There  is,  then,  no  confusion 
between  this  enrolment  of  Herod's  and  the  subse- 
quent enrolment  of  6-7  A.  D., — a  confusion  that 
would  involve  a  blunder  of  some  ten  years, — as 
Schmiedel  and  Pfleiderer  maintain ;  but,  on  the 
contrary,  a  careful  distinction  is  drawn  between 
them. 

Moreover,  since  the  publication  of  his  first  book 
on  the  subject,  Ramsay  has  collected  fresh  details 
to  support  his  thesis,  t  The  year,  for  instance, 
which  he  claims  for  the  first  periodic  census  seems 
to  demand  an  interval  of  some  two  years  between 
it  and  the  earliest  date  for  the  Birth  of  our  Lord. 
This  somewhat  lengthy  interval,  which  has  been 
urged  against  the  theory,  may  perhaps  be  ac- 
counted for  by  the  situation  of  affairs  in  Palestine, 
which  presented  at  the  time  considerable  difficulty 
and  anxiety.  But  a  fair  and  contemporary  ana- 
logy, so  far  as  length  of  time  is  concerned,  may  be 
found  in  another  part  of  the  Roman  Empire,  and 
in  a  much  simpler  operation  than  tliat  of  a  census. 
The  kingdom  of  Paphlagonia  was  incorporated  in 
the  Roman  province  Galatia  ;  but  although  the 
taking  of  the  oatli  of  allegiance  was,  as  compared 
with  a  census,  a  matter  which  required  little  pre- 
paration and  instruction  of  oflicials,  yet  nearly,  or 
perhaps  more  than,  two  years  elapsed  before  the 
oath  was  actually  administered  (Expodtor,  Nov. 
1901,  p.  321  tt.). 

One  of  tbe  most  acute  and  prominent  opponents  of  St.  Luke's 
accuracy  in  re<,'ard  to  tlie  question  before  us  is  Professor  Sciiiirer, 
who  in  GJV-'  (vol.  i.  [1901]  pp.  608-S43)  deals  seriatim  with  the 
difficulties  which,  in  his  opinion,  St.  Lulte's  statement  involves. 

(1)  Schiirer,  first  of  all,  points  out  that  history  iinowa  nothing 
of  a  general  census  of  the  empire  in  the  time  of  Augustus 
But,  as  Ramsay  rightly  says,  the  contrary  assertion  stands  on 
a  very  different  level  of  piobabilitv  from  that  which  it  occupied 
before  the  Egyptian  discovery.  And  if  there  is  evidence  that 
the  periods  of  the  Ejjyptian  enrolments  were  frequently  co- 
incident with  the  holding  of  a  census  in  otiier  parts  of  the 
empire,  we  come  very  near  to  St.  Luke's  statement,  that 
Augustus  laid  down  a  general  principle  of  taking  a  census  of 
the  whole  Roman  world. 

(2)  It  is  maintained  by  Schiirer  that  if  St.  Luke  describes 
Joseph  as  travelling  to  Bethlehem  because  he  was  of  the  house 
and  lineage  of  David,  this  presupposes  that  the  lists  for  the 
census  were  prepared  according  to  descent  and  families,  which 
was  by  no  means  the  Roman  method.  But  Ramsay's  whole 
contention  is  that  the  'enrolment'  in  question  w£is  conducted 
not  according  to  Roman,  but  according  to  Jewish,  methods. 

'  It  is  urged,'  says  Schurer,  '  that  in  this  census  an  accommo- 
dation was  made  to  Jewish  customs  and  prejudice.'  But  he 
argues  that  although  this  was  often  the  case  under  the  Em- 


♦  On  this  practical  method  of  thus  avoiding  any  outrage  upon 
Jewish  national  feeling,  see,  further,  B.  Weiss,  Leien  Jem*,  i 
231.  Turner  (art.  'Chronology'  in  Hastings' Z)B  i.  404)  also 
pomts  out  that  Herod  may  well  have  been  mindful  of  the 
susceptibilities  of  the  Jews,  and  so,  in  avoiding  the  scandal 
caused  by  the  later  census  (Ac  637),  avoided  also  the  notice  of 
history. 

t  Zockler  (art.  'Jesus  Christus  '  in  PRE3)  speaks  of  Ramsay's 
theory  in  terms  of  approval ;  Chase  speaks  of  the  same  theory 
as  having  advanced  many  stages  the  probability  that  St.  Luke's 
reference  to  the  enrolment  under  Quirinius  is  historical  (Super- 
natural Element  in  our  Lord's  earthly  Li/e,  p.  21) ;  while 
Kenyon  (art.  'Papyri'  in  Hastings'  DB,  Ext.  Vol.  356)  speaks 
of  the  light  which  the  discovery  of  the  census-records  in  Egypt 
has  thrown  upon  the  chronology  of  the  NT,  although,  as  he 
adds.  Professor  Ramsay's  is  the  only  attempt  to  work  out  the 
problem  m  detail. 


pire,  yet  in  this  instance  such  a  method  would  have  been  too 

burdensome  and  inconvenient;  and,  further,  that  it  is  very 

questionable  whether  such  an  *  enrolment '  according  to  tribes 

and  families  was  practicable, 

longer  possible  to  trace  _the  link  of  connexion  i 

ticular  tribe  (     "      "" 


nts,  it 


ome  par- 
■  family.  But  with  regard  to  the  former  of  these 
quite  consistent  with  Ramsay's  theory  that  the 
sliould  have  taken  a  considerable  time,  and  witii 
regard  to  the  second  point  we  are  fortunately  able  to  quote 
Dalman  as  to  the  accuracy  with  which  family  registers  were  kept 
among  the  Jews.  He  points  out  that  the  title  '  Son  of  David ' 
would  not  have  been  ascribed  to  Jesus  if  it  had  been  believed 
that  He  did  not  satisfy  the  genealogical  conditions  implied  by 
the  name.  The  Book  of  Chronicles,  which  gives  (1  Ch  17)  the 
promise  of  2  S  7,  revived  afresh  the  idea  of  the  royal  destiny 
of  the  family  of  David,  and  thereby  contributed  to  the  preser- 
vation of  the  household  traditions  of  descendants  of  David. 
Dalman  adds, '  Where,  in  addition  to  proud  recollections,  national 
hopes  of  the  greatest  moment  were  bound  up  with  a  particular 
lineage,  those  belonging  to  it  would  be  as  unlikely  to  forget 
their  origin  as,  in  our  own  day,  for  instance,  the  numerous 
descendants  of  Muhammad,  or  the  peasant  families  of  Norway 
who  are  descended  from  ancient  kings.'  And  he  adds,  '  Hence 
it  results  that  no  serious  doubts  need  be  offered  to  the  idea  of 
a  trustworthy  tradition  of  Davidio  descent  in  the  family  of 
Joseph'  (Hie  WorteJem,  i.  p.  266). 

(3)  But  Schiirer  has  by  no  means  come  to  the  end  of  his 
arguments.  The  decisive  proof  against  a  census  in  the  time  of 
Herod  is  this,  that  Josephus  characterizes  the  census  of  Ac  537 
as  something  entirely  new  and  unheard  of,  and  that  it  became 
on  that  account  the  cause  of  indignation  and  rebellion.*  But 
admitting  these  statements  of  Josephus,  what  then"?  Simply 
this,  that  his  language  is  amply  justified  with  reference  to  the 
passage  mentioned,  viz.  Ac  6^7.  The  year  a.d.  7,  as  Josephus 
has  it,  did  mark  a  new  departure ;  the  taxing  then  made  was 
made  after  the  Roman  fashion ;  it  was  wholly  removed  in  its 
method  and  in  its  consequences  from  the  earlier  enrolment 
under  Herod.  It  is  therefore  evident  that  whilst  Josephus 
might  well  refer  to  the  revolt  under  Judas  of  Galilee  as  the 
result  of  this  taxation,  there  was  no  reason  why  he  should  refer 
to  the  enrolment  of  some  ten  to  fourteen  years  earUer  with 
which  no  rebellious  excitement  was  connected. 

(4)  In  his  latest  edition  Schurer  is  very  severe  with  regard  to 
Ramsay's  theory  that  Quirinius  was  associated  with  (Juintilius 
Varus,  the  latter  being  the  regular  governor  of  Syria  for  its 
internal  administration,  while  the  former  administered  the 
military  resources  of  the  province.  This,  according  to  Ramsay, 
would  bring  Quirinius  to  Syria  B.C.  7-<3,  and  the  *  enrolment '  of 
Palestine  took  place  at  the  same  time.  St.  Luke  does  not  say 
that  Quirinius  was  (jovemor ;  he  uses  a  vague  word  with  regard 
to  him,  a  word  which  might  mean  that  the  '  enrolment '  was 
made  while  Quirinius  was  acting  as  leader  (-hvi/i-it)  in  Syria ; 
and  it  seems  quite  possible  that  St.  Luke  should  speak  of 
Quirinius  in  this  way,  since  he  was  holding  the  delegated 
iyifj-oviot.  of  the  Emperor  in  his  command  of  the  armies  of  Syria. 
But  Schiirer  presses  his  point,  and  makes  much  of  the  unlikeH- 
hood  that  St.  Luke  would  date  his  census  not  from  the  ordinao' 
governor,  but  from  one  who  had  nothing  to  do  with  the  taking 
of  the  census.  Yet  it  must  be  remembered  that  there  are  un- 
doubtedly examples  of  frequent  temporary  associations  of 
duties  in  Roman  administration,  and  it  is  quite  possible  that 
Quirinius  may  have  been  concerned  in  the  census,  as  Plummer 
suggests  (art.  '  Quirinius'  in  Hastings'  DBiv.  183).t  Moreover, 
it  may  be  fairly  urged,  as  it  is  in  fact  by  Ramsay,  that  Quirinius 
ruled  for  a  shorter  time  than  Varus,  and  that  aa  he  controlled 
the  foreign  relations  of  the  province  he  furnished  the  best 
means  of  dating  {Was  Christ  bum  at  Bethlehem?  p.  246  ;  see 
also  p.  106).  But  if  we  once  admit  that  St.  Luke's  words  do 
not  involve  the  belief  thatQuirinius  was  the  actual  governor  of 
Syria,  the  view  that  Quirinius  may  have  been  sentasan  extra- 
ordinary legate  to  Syria,  and  as  suchhadundertaken  the  ad- 
ministration of  the  census,  is  well  worthy  of  consideration. 
This  view  is  mentioned  by  Schiirer  (I.e.  p.  640),  although  only  to 
be  rejected.  But  Ramsay  (p.  248)  points  out  that  if  this  sup- 
position is  accepted,  it  may  be  observed  that  Quirinius  as  the 
commissioner  for  Syria  and  Palestine  would  be  a  delegate  ex- 
ercising the  emperor's  authority,  and  might  rightly  be  said 
rj-s^vat/Eiv  T^;  ^vpiccs.  At  all  events  this  view  offends  against  no 
method  of  Roman  procedure  (as  Schiirer  apparently  allows),  and 
it  may  fairly  be  said  to  be  quite  compatible  with  the  language 
which  St.  Luke  employs. 

When  we  consider  the  many  difficulties  which  surround  this 

qufestio,  it  is  somewhat  surprising  that  Prof essor  Schiirer 

all  possible  means  of  escape  from  the  con- 


should  affirm 


*  BJ  n.  viii. 

tin  this  coi 

rOQt „  ,_     ,.__  . 

holding  the  office  of  procurator^  and  not  by  a  word 
signifying  legatus,  as  Quirinius  afterwards  became  in  a.d.  «. 
The  only  other  place  in  which  St.  Luke  uses  the  word  employed 
in  the  phrase  '  when  Quirinius  was  governor  of  Syria '  refers  to  a 
procurator  (Lk  3i),  and  this  fact  adds  weight  to  the  supposition 
that,  while  at  the  time  of  the  enrolment  Varus  was  actuallv 
lef/atus,  Quirinius  may  have  held  some  such  command  as  that 
indicated  above.  H.  Holtzmann  (Hdcoin.,  1901,  i.  p.  317)  dis- 
misses Ramsay's  proposed  explanation  somewhat  contemptu- 
ously ;  but  he  has  nothing  to  say  with  regard  to  the  analogous 
cases  of  a  temporary  division  of  duties  in  Roman  administra- 
tion, or  to  those  quoted  by  R.  S.  Bour,  who  is  essentially  in 
agreement  with  Ramsay  in  the  proposed  solution. 


BIRTH  OF  CHRIST 


BIRTH  OF  CHRIST 


elusion  are  closed,  the  conclusion  bein^  that  St.  Luke's  state- 
ment conflicts  with  the  facts  of  history  (.I.e.  p.  642).  Having 
arrived  at  this  very  dogmatic  result,  he  points  out  thatanyoni 


A'ho  cannot  attribute  s 
that  the  Evangelist  is  i 
blunders.     He  confuses,  < 


-,  free  f 


i  Thcudas  in  Ac  636,  the  Theudas 
f  Galilee,  with  the  Theudas  who 
forty  years  later.  But  Schurer  must  be  well  aware 
that  many  able  critics  do  not  accept  this  further  summary 
assertion  on  his  part  of  St.  Luke's  ignorance,  and  that  his  own 
learned  countr.i.-man  Dr.  F.  Blass  passes  the  sensible  Judgment 
in  his  Commentary  on  Ac  537,  that  St.  Luke's  accuracy  in  other 
respects  should  prevent  us  from  attributing  to  him  here  such  a 
grave  error  as  is  sometimes  alleged.  Moreover,  it  should  be 
remembered  that  it  is  precisely  in  points  connected  with  the 
administration  of  the  Roman  provinces  that  St.  Luke's  accuracy 
has  been  so  repeatedly  proved.  Consider  aa  a  single  instance 
the  manner  in  which  in  the  Acts  he  is  able  not  merely  to  dis- 
tinguish between  Imperial  and  Senatorial  provinces,  but  also  to 
note  accurately  the  particular  period  during  which  a  certain 
province  was  under  one  or  the  other  kind  of  rule.  Or  if  we 
turn  to  the  Gospel,  we  recall  how  a  keen  controversy  has  raged 
around  the  statement  in  Lk  31  with  regard  to  Lysanias  the 
tetrarch  of  Abilene.  Here,  too,  St.  Luke  has  been  accused  of 
manifest  inaccuracy.  But,  to  say  nothing  of  the  recent  dis- 
covery of  two  inscriptions  which  have  been  fairly  cited  in 
support  of  St.  Luke's  correctness,  it  may  be  observed  that 
Schmiedel  reluctantly  allows  (art.  '  Lysanias  '  in  Etvcyc.  Bibl. 
iii.  ■.iS42)  that  it  cannot  possibly  be  shown,  or  even  assumed, 
that  St.  Luke  is  here  mistaken,  while  Schurer  entertains  no 
such  hesit.ation,  and  frankly  states  that  *  the  Evangelist  Luke 
is  thoroughly  correct  when  he  assumes  that  in  the  fifteenth 
year  of  Tiberius  there  was  a  Lysanias  tetrarch  of  Abilene '  {I.e. 
p.  719).  And  yet  within  a  few  lines  of  this  evidence  of  correct- 
ness we  are  asked  to  believe  that  the  same  Evangelist  was  guilty 
of  a  gratuitous  and  stupid  blunder  in  relation  to  the  enrolment 
under  Quirinius. 

ii.  St.  Matthew's  account.  — 1.  Vse  of  OT 
■prophecy. — While  St.  Luke  narrates  the  events 
which  lead  to  the  Birth  at  Bethlehem  without 
making  any  definite  reference  to  OT  jirophecy,  it 
is  noticeable  that  St.  Matthew  (2*)  quotes  definitely 
the  prophecy  of  Micah  (5^)  with  reference  to  the 
home  of  David :  '  And  thou  Bethlehem,  land  of 
Judah,  art  in  nowise  least  among  the  princes  of 
Judah  :  for  out  of  thee  shall  come  forth  a  governor, 
which  shall  be  shepherd  of  my  people  Israel.'  The 
jjrophecy  was  undoubtedly  regarded  as  Messianic 
(Zahn,  Das  Evangelium  des  Mattluius,  1903,  p.  94  ; 
SchUrer,  I.e.  ii.  527-530). 

The  difference  in  the  wording  of  Mt  26  and  Mic  52  ia  easily 
accounted  for,  if  we  bear  in  mind  that  the  Evangelist  repro- 
duces the  prophecy  in  the  manner  popular  at  the  time,  i.e.  he 
quotes  some  Targum  on  the  passage,  or,  as  Edersheim  puts  it, 
Mic  5-  ia  rendered  targumically,  and  this  would  fairly  cover 
the  variations  in  the  two  renderings  (Jesm  the  Messiah,  i.  p. 
■206;  cf.  also  Delitzsch,  Mesmtniscne  Weissarjungeti^^  p.  129). 
But  if  Schurer  is  correct  in  seeing  in  the  prophecy  of  Micah 
words  which  might  easily  be  understood  to  mean  that  the 
Messiah's  goings  forth  had  been  from  of  old,  from  everlasting. 
I.e.  to  signify  the  Messiah's  pre-existence,  yet  it  cannot  be  said 
that  Jewish  theology  pointed  to  a  birth  such  as  that  recorded 
by  St.  Matthew. 

'it  i?  no  wonder  that  Zahn  (I.e.  p.  83)  should  characterize 
as  altogether  fantastic  the  attempt  to  derive  the  stories  of 
St.  Matthew  and  St.  Luke  from  the  Rabbinic  exegesis  of  Is  7^*, 
when  there  is  no  reason  to  assume  that  the  prophet's  words 
were  taken  at  the  time  of  our  Lord's  birth  to  refer  to  the 
'Messiah  at  all  (see  also  Weber,  Jiidische  Tlwalo^jie  -,  i>p.  ;j:,4, 357  ; 
and  von  Orelli,  art.  'Messias'  in  PRE^,  19U2,  and  esp.  Ualman, 
Die  Worte  Jesu,  i.  226).  But  this  is  a  subject  for  which  refer- 
ence may  be  made  to  art.  Virgin  Birth. 

2.  Jtelation  to  Jevnsh  legal  requirements. — St. 
Matthew's  account,  which  with  every  due  con- 
cession may  fairly  be  regarded  as  dating  in  its 
present  form  within  the  limits  of  the  1st  cent., 
demands  our  attention  for  further  reasons.  It  is 
remarkable,  for  example,  how  strictly  it  adheres 
to  Jewish  legality,  and  yet  at  the  same  time  how 
delicately  the  feelings  and  thoughts  of  Joseph  are 
portrayed  (cf.  G.  H.  Box,  I.e.  p.  82). 

With  regard  to  the  first  point,  it  may  be  noted 
that '  after  the  betrothal  the  bride  was  under  the 
same  restrictions  as  a  wife.  If  unfaithful,  slie 
ranked  and  was  punished  as  an  adulteress  (Dt 
22^'-) ;  and,  on  the  other  hand,  tlie  bridegroom,  if 
he  wished  to  break  the  contract,  had  tlie  same 
privileges,  and  had  also  to  observe  the  same  for- 
malities, as  in  the  ease  of  divorce.  The  situation 
is  illustrated  in  the  history  of  Joseph  and  Mary, 


who  were  on  the  footing  of  betrothal'  (art.  'Mar- 
riage '  in  Hastings'  DB  iii.  ;  cf.  also  Nebe,  Kind- 
heitsgeschichte,  pp.  199,  200,  and  Zahn,  I.e.  p.  71). 
In  this  connexion  one  may  also  refer  to  another 
passage  in  Dalman  with  reference  to  the  descent 
of  Jesus  :  'A  case  such  as  that  of  Jesus,'  he  writes, 
'  was,  of  course,  not  anticipated  by  the  Law  ;  but  if 
no  other  human  fatherhood  was  alleged,  then  the 
child  must  have  been  regarded  as  bestowed  by 
God  upon  the  house  of  Joseph ;  for  a  betrothed 
woman,  according  to  Jewish  law,  already  occupied 
the  same  status  as  a  wife'  (Die  Worte  Jesu,  i. 
p.  263).    See  Betrothal. 

If  we  bear  this  in  mind,  we  can  see  how  easy  it  is  to  interpret 
the  reading  of  the  Sinaitic-Syriac  palimpsest,  of  which  so  much 
has  been  made,  in  Lk  2P  'he  and  Mary  his  wife,  that  they 
might  be  enrolled.'  All  that  the  words  show,  if  we  allow  that 
they  are  the  correct  reading,  is  that  Mary  was  under  the  full 
legal  protection  of  Joseph  :  '  unless,  indeed,  our  Lord  had  passed 
in  common  estimation  as  the  son  of  Joseph,'  it  has  been  well 
pointed  out  that  it  is  difiicult  to  see  how  Joseph,  according  to  Mt 
119,  could  have  gratified  his  wish  *  not  to  expose  *  Mary.  And  so 
again  *  Joseph  was  without  doubt  the  foster-father  of  our  Lord  ; 
and  if  any  register  of  births  was  kept  in  the  Temple  or  elsewhere, 
hewould  probably  be  there  described  as  the  actual  father.  Such 
he  was  from  a  social  point  of  view,  and  it  was  therefore  no  wilful 
suppression  of  the  truth  when  the  most  blessed  amongst  women 
said  to  her  Son,  **Tbv  father  and  I  have  sought  thee  sorrow- 
ing'"(Mrs.  Lewis  in  the  Expos.  Times,  1900,  1901,  where  illus- 
trations from  Eastern  social  customs  may  be  also  found).  Cf. 
W.  C.  Allen,  Interpreter,  Feb.  1905,  p.  113. 

3.  Sobriety  and  delieacy  of  the  narrative. — If  we 
turn  again  to  what  we  may  call  the  inwardness 
of  St.  Matthew's  story,  we  can  scarcely  fail  to  be 
struck  with  its  singular  sobriety  and  reserve.  We 
hear  nothing  of  any  anger  or  reproach  on  the  part 
of  Joseph  against  his  betrothed,  although  as  'a 
righteous  man'  he  feels  that  only  one  course  is 
open  to  him.  But  with  this  decision  other  con- 
siderations were  evidently  still  contending, — con- 
siderations the  very  existence  of  which  bore  testi- 
mony to  the  purity  and  fidelity  of  Mary.  The 
words  of  the  angel  (Mt  1'-")  say  nothing  of  the 
appeasement  of  indignation,  they  speak  rather  of 
the  befitting  conquest  of  hesitation  and  doubt: 
'  fear  not  to  take  unto  thee  Mary  thy  wife,'  i.e.  to 
take  unto  thee  one  who  had  and  still  has  a  claim 
to  that  honoured  and  cherished  name.  No  wonder 
that  Dean  Plumptre  could  write  that  the  glimpse 
given  us  into  the  character  of  Joseph  is  one  of 
singular  tenderness  and  beauty  (see  Ellicott's  Com- 
mentary, in  loco).  If  any  one  will  read  this  delicate 
and  beautiful  description  and  place  it  side  by  side 
with  that  given  us  in  the  Protevangelittm  Jacobi, 
where,  e.g.,  both  Joseph  and  the  priest  bitterly 
reproach  Mary,  and  a  whole]  series  of  prurient 
details  is  given,  he  will  again  become  painfully 
aware  of  the  gulf  which  separates  the  Canonical 
from  the  Apocryphal  Gospels. 

4.  Objections  taken  to  the  contents  of  Mt  1.  2.— 
St.  Matthew's  record,  no  less  than  that  of  St. 
Luke,  has  been  the  object  of  vehement  and  re- 
lentless attack.  It  is  asserted,  for  instance,  by 
Usener  that  in  the  whole  Birth  and  Childhood 
story  of  St.  Matthew  a  pagan  substratum  can  be 
traced  (art.  'Nativity'  in  £ncuc.  Bibl.  iii.  3352, 
and  also  to  the  same  effect  ZNTW,  1903,  p.  21). 
Thus  we  are  asked  to  find  the  origin  of  the  story 
of  the  Magi  worshipping  at  the  cradle  of  the 
infant  Jesus  in  the  visit  paid  by  the  Parthian 
king  Tiridates  \nth  magi  in  his  train  to  do  hom- 
age in  Rome  to  the  emperor  Nero.  But  the  magi 
of  the  Parthian  king  were  evidently,  like  many 
other  magi  of  the  East,  claimants  to  the  possession 
of  secret  and  magical  arts,  and  there  is  nothing 
strange  in  the  fact  that  they  are  found  among  the 
retinue  of  a  Parthian  king.  But  what  actual 
points  of  resemblance  exist  between  this  visit  to 

I  Nero  and  the  \isit  of  the  Magi  to  Bethlehem  it  is 
]  difficult  to  see.  One  crucial  contrast,  at  any  rate, 
has  been  rightly  emphasized.     Tiridates  came  to 


BIRTH  OF  CHRIST 


BIRTH  OF  CHRIST 


Nero,  not  of  his  own  accord,  but  because  his  only 
clioioe  was  to  do  liomage  to  Nero  or  to  lose  his 
crown.  Here  there  is  no  comparison  with,  but 
rather  an  oljvious  and  essential  contrast  to,  the 
Wise  Men  of  St.  Matthew,  who  came  with  joy  and 
gladness  to  worship  the  Babe  of  Bethlehem. 

Soltau,  who  also  supports  the  same  origin  for 
St.  Matthew's  story,  adduces  the  parallels  which 
in  his  opinion  may  be  fitly  drawn  between  the 
visit  of  the  Parthian  king  to  Rome  and  the  visit 
of  the  Magi  to  Bethlehem  {Die  Geburtsgeschichtc 
Jem  Christi,  1902,  p.  37).  As  might  be  exjiected, 
he  makes  much  of  the  fact  that  Tiridates  is  said 
to  have  knelt  and  worshipped  Nero  just  as  the 
Wise  Men  fell  down  to  worship  Jesus.  But  the 
only  other  verbal  parallel  which  he  is  able  to 
adduce  is  this :  Tiridates,  according  to  Dio  Cassius 
(Ixiii.  2  ff.),  did  not  return  by  the  way  which  he 
■came ;  beneath  the  quotation  of  this  statement 
Soltau  writes  as  a  parallel  the  words  of  St. 
Matthew :  '  and  they  departed  into  their  own 
country  another  way'  (Mt  2'^).  A  strong  case 
scarcely  stands  in  need  of  such  parallels  as  these.  * 

But  an  attempt  is  often  made  to  trace  St. 
Matthew's  story  to  Jewish  sources,  and  reference 
is  made  to  the  words  and  expectations  of  the  pro- 
phets. And  no  doubt  it  is  easy  to  affirm  that  such 
a  passage  as  Is  ei""-  might  have  contributed  to  the 
formation  of  the  legend  of  the  adoration  of  the 
Magi.  But  the  Evangelist,  who  loves  to  quote 
prophecies  apposite  in  any  de^ee  to  the  events 
connected  with  our  Lord's  birtu,  makes  no  refer- 
ence to  this  passage  of  Isaiah  which  Christian 
thought  has  so  often  associated  with  the  Epiphany. 
As  a  matter  of  fact,  it  would  seem  that  the  pro- 
phecy referred  primarily,  not  to  the  Messiah,  but 
to  the  city  of  Jerusalem  and  to  the  day  of  its  latter 
glory. 

No  doubt  the  Evangelist  does  definitely  connect 
at  least  two  Old  Testament  prophecies  with  the 
visit  of  the  Magi  and  the  events  immediately  sub- 
sequent to  it.  But  the  question  may  be  fairly 
asked.  Which  is  more  probable,  that  the  flight  into 
Egypt  actually  took  place,  or  that  the  Jewish 
Evangelist,  or  some  later  hand,  introduced  the 
incident  as  the  fulfilment  of  an  OT  prophecy 
which  had  primarily  no  definite  or  obvious  con- 
nexion, to  say  the  least  of  it,  with  the  Messiah  ?t 
Or,  again,  if  some  such  event  as  the  Massacre  of 
the  Innocents  at  Bethlehem  actually  occurred,  we 
can  understand  that  a  Jewish  Evangelist  could 
find  in  that  event,  and  in  the  mourning  of  the 
mothers  of  Israel,  a  furtlier  fulfilment  of  Jere- 
miah's words  (3P^).  But  there  is  no  obvious 
reason  why  he  should  have  hit  upon  and  intro- 
duced such  words  unless  some  event  had  hap- 
pened at  Bethlehem  which  recalled  to  his  mind 
the  picture  which  the  prophet  had  drawn,  and  the 
scene  once  enacted  within  a  few  miles  of  the  city 
of  David. 

Other  explanations  are,  of  course,  forthcoming.  *  Why,'  asks 
Usener,  'is  Egypt  selected  as  the  place  of  refuge?'  and  one 
answer  is  that  mythological  ideas  may  have  had  their 


their  flight  when  attacked  by  the  gia: 
in  Ency.  Bibl.  iii.  3351  ;  and  ZNTW  p.  217).  t    In  any  considera- 
tion of  such  statements  it  is  well  to  remer  '       "         

whatever  date  we  assign  to  St.  Matthew,? 


*  See  also  the  recent  criticisms  of  A.  Jeremias,  Jlabylonischcs 
im  NT,  1905,  p.  55. 

t  On  the  exact  words  o 
the  Hebrew,  see  Zahn,  E 
also  Delitzsch,  Mesaiauische  Weisaafixmgen^, 

X  Indications  are  not  wanting  tliat  this  constant  and  some- 
what reckless  appeal  to  supposed  pagan  analogies  is  being  over- 
done ;  see,  e.g.,  Farnell's  remarks  in  the  Hibbert  Journal,  July 
1904,  p.  827. 

5  In  art.  '  Gospels'  in  Encyc.  Bibl.  ii.  1893,  mention  is  made 
of  the  Syriao  writing  attributed  to  Eusebius,  and  it  is  main- 
tained that,  according  to  this  document,  the  story  of  the  Magi, 
committed  to  writing  in  the  interior  of  Persia,  was,  in  a.d.  119, 
in  the  episcopate  of  Xystus  of   Rome,  made  search  for,  dis- 


an  historic  period  of  the  world's  history,  and  that  the  writer  at 
least  claims  to  place  his  events  in  relation  to  historical  data. 
Nothing  was  more  natural  than  that  Egypt  should  be  chosen 
as  the  place  of  refuge  ;  it  was  nigh  at  hand,  the  communication 


Nothing  was  more  in  accordance  with  the  char- 
acter of  Herod  than  the  deed  of  bloodshed  ascribed 
to  him,  and  modern  days  supply  many  proofs  of 
the  unscrupulous  manner  in  which  a  jealous  and 
suspicious  potentate  has  not  hesitated  to  rid  him- 
self of  anyone  likely  to  render  his  tenure  of  sove- 
reignty insecure  (see,  e.g.,  amongst  recent  writers 
Kreyher,  Die  pmgfrdulkhe  Geburt  des  Herrn,  1904, 
p.  83).*  On  the  other  hand,  it  is  very  improb- 
able that  the  Evangelist  would  have  invented  a 
story  in  which  the  birth  of  the  Messiah  was  made 
to  bring  bitter  sorrow  into  so  many  Jewish  homes.  + 

Nothing,  again,  was  more  likely' than  that  Joseph 
should  withdraw  into  Galilee  after  the  return  from 
Egypt,  since  we  have  evidence  that  Archelaus  very 
soon  after  his  accession  gave  proof  of  the  same 
cruel  and  crafty  behaviour  as  had  characterized 
his  father  (Jos.  BJ  II.  vi.  2).J 

In  the  next  place,  it  is  well  to  remember  that 
there  is  at  all  events  one  instance  of  a  prophecy 
cited  in  this  part  of  the  Gospel  of  St.  Matthew 
the  fulfilment  of  which  is  beyond  doubt,  if  we  can 
be  said  to  know  anything  at  all  of  the  liistori- 
cal  Jesus  (2-^).  And  yet  no  one  with  any  discern- 
ment could  possibly  maintain  that  our  Lord's 
residence  and  bringing  up  in  Nazareth  were  intro- 
duced for  the  sake  of  finding  a  fulfilment  for  a 
prophecy  which  it  is  .so  difficult  to  trace  to  any  one 
source  in  OT  literature.  But  if  in  this  case  it  is 
certain  that  the  prophecy  could  not  have  created 
the  fact,  why  in  the  case  of  the  other  prophecies 
cited  should  their  alleged  fulfilment  be  credited  to 
the  extravagant  imagination  of  the  Evangelist, 
and  to  that  alone  ?§ 

iii.  Apocryphal  accounts.  —It  is  of  the  greatest 
significance  that  just  in  that  portion  of  our  Lord's 
life  concerning  which  the  Gospels  of  St.  Matthew 
and  St.   Luke  are  most  silent,   the  Apocryphal 

covered,  and  written  in  Greek.  But  Zahn  (Einleltuno,  ii.  p. 
266)  points  out  that  this  statement  at  least  shows  that  by  the 
date  named  the  year  of  the  coming  of  the  Magi  was  discussed 
not  only  in  Rome,  but  in  various  places.  He  further  argues, 
with  ^ood  reason,  from  the  same  statement  of  the  pseudo- 
Eusebius,  that  the  narrative  of  Mt  2  had  already  been  incorpor- 
ated in  the  Gospel  before  a.d.  119.  See,  further,  Ch.  Quart. 
Rev.  July  1904,  p.  389.  In  this  connexion  it  may  be  noted  that 
it  is  difficult  to  see  why  the  statement  of  St.  Ignatius,  exagger- 
ated as  it  is,  should  not  be  taken  to  refer  to  the  star  of  the  Magi 
(Ephes.  xix.  2,  3).  On  the  significance  of  this  early  reference  to 
the  Gospel  narrative  in  St.  Ignatius,  see  Headlam',  Criticism  of 
the  NT,  p.  166  (St.  Margaret's  Lectures).  In  his  recent  Com- 
mentary on  St.  Matthew's  Gospel,  Wellhausen  begins  with  31, 
which  is  certainly  a  short  and  easy  method  of  dealing  with  the 
two  earlier  chapters. 

«  See,  further,  art.  Magi.  It  may,  however,  be  here  noted 
that  Ramsay  remarks  on  Macrobius,  Sat.  ii.  4,  that  it  is  not 
probable  that  Macrobius  (a  pagan,  about  a.d.  400)  was  indebted 
to  a  Christian  writer  for  his  information,  and  that  therefore 
the  story  of  the  Massacre  of  the  Infants  was  recorded  in  some 
pagan  source  (Was  Christ  horn  at  Bethlehem!  pp.  219,  220). 
Zdckler  also  refers  to  Macrobius  as  affording  a  testimony  from 
a  non-biblical  source  to  the  truth  of  the  Massacre  at  Bethlehem 
(art.  'Jesus  Christus'  in  PRE-i).  On  the  silence  of  Jost-phus 
see,  further,  Zahn,  Eeangeliinti  des  Matthdus,  p.  10'.' ;  and 
Edersheim,  The  Temple  at  the  Time  ufJesvs  Christ,  p.  35  f. 

t  Zahn,  EmiuKliuiiL  des  Matthaus,  p.  109.  See,  too,  the 
same  reference  'for  the  improbability  of  supposing  that  the 
story  in  St.  Matthew  was  derived  from  the  rescue  of  .'\Ioses  (Ex 
115  210  ;  Jos.  Ant.  11.  ix.  2) ;  and  cf.  art.  M.ioi. 

{'There  is  a  noticeable  difference  between  St.  Matthew's 
references  to  the  political  situation  in  Palestine  and  St.  Luke's. 


noted  by  Burton  in  his  Introduction  t 


BIRTH  OF  CHRIST 


BLASPHEMY 


Gospels  are  most  effusive.*  Here  was  an  oppor- 
tunity for  them  to  occupy  a  vacant  space,  anJ 
they  lost  no  endeavour  in  tryinj;  to  fill  it.  Both  in 
the  details  of  the  Nativity  and  in  the  events  just 
referred  to  as  subsequent  to  it,  ve  find  ample  proofs 
of  this.  Thus  Elisabeth  is  fearful  that  in  accord- 
ance with  the  commands  of  Herod  her  son  John 
may  be  slain.  And  when  she  can  find  no  place 
of  concealment,  she  begs  a  mountain  to  receive 
mother  and  cliUd,  and  instantly  the  mountain  is 
cleft  to  receive  her ;  and  a  light  shines  round 
about,  for  an  angel  of  the  Lord  is  watching  for  her 
preservation.  And  upon  this  there  follows  a  tragic 
scene  of  the  murder  of  Zacharias,  who  is  slain  for 
his  refusal  to  betray  his  son.  As  the  Holy  Family 
pass  through  Egypt,  the  marvellous  accompanies 
them  at  every  step.  In  these  apocryphal  stories, 
lions,  dragons,  and  panthers  adore  the  infant 
Jesus  ;  a  palm  tree  bends  at  His  word  that  His 
Motlier  may  eat  the  fruit ;  in  one  day  the 
travellers  accomplish  a  journey  of  thirty  days ; 
the  idols  prostrate  themselves  in  the  temples 
before  the  Mother  and  her  Child.  And  we  know 
how  the  long  silence  of  our  Lord's   life  in  our 


for  the  introduction  of  the  same  in- 
ipid  and  fantastic  tales,  t    Even  in  modern  days 


opportunity 
sipid  and  fai 
there  have  not  been 


ranting  writers  who   hi 


equal  lack  of  historical  data.t  In  all  this  and 
much  else  we  mark  again  and  again  the  reserve 
so  characteristic  of  St.  Matthew  and  St.  Luke 
alike,  a  reserve  and  restraint  often  emphasized  by 
earlier  commentators,  and  again  recently  referred 
to  by  German  writers  so  far  apart  in  point  of  view 
as  Gunkel  and  Hermann  Oremer.§ 

iv.  Convergent  tr.iditions  and  the  main 
FACTS. — It  is  often  said  that  the  narratives  in 
our  two  canonical  Gospels  contradict  one  another. 
But  although,  no  doubt,  it  is  difficult  to  harmonize 
them  in  their  particulars  and  sequences,  their  in- 
dependence is  evident  proof  that  there  was  no 
attempt  on  the  part  of  one  Evangelist  to  make  his 
work  the  complement  or  corrector  of  the  other.H 
Antecedently  we  might  have  expected  that  St. 
Luke,  the  Gentile  Evangelist,  would  have  told  us 
of  the  adoration  of  the  Magi,  and  that  the  Hebrew 
Evangelist  would  have  given  us  the  picture  of 
obedience  on  the  part  of  Mother  and  Child  to  the 
details  of  the  Law  and  the  worship  of  the  Temple. 
And  it  is  justly  urged  as  no  small  proof  of  the 
truch  of  the  narratives  that  each  Evangelist  could 

*  For  a  useful  clasaiacation  of  the  most  important  of  the 
Apocryphal  Gospels,  and  a  list  of  those  which  claim  to  fill  up 
the  gaps  in  our  knowledge  of  the  Infancy  and  Childhood  of 
Jesus,  see  art.  'Apocryphal  Gospels'  in  Hastinjs'  DB,  Ext. 


blance  is,  in  truth,  very  slight  and  unessenliiil. 

t  It  cannot  be  said  that  Conrady's  attempt  to  derive  oui 
Gospel  accounts  of  the  Nativity  from  the  Apocryphal  Gospels 


Jem :  see,  further,  his  article  in  SK,  1904,  Heft  2). 
derivation  might  well  be  called  a  literary  miracle.  For  a  criti- 
cism of  Conrady's  attempt,  see  Theol.  LiUralurblatt,  1901, 
p.  -283. 

t  See,  e.g.,  C.  A.  Witz,  Keine  Liicke  im  Leben  Jem,  1895, 
described  as  '  Antwort  auf  die  Schrift  von  Nikolaus  Notowitsch, 
Vie  Liicke  im  Leben  Jesu.' 

5  CL  Gunkel,  I.e.  p.  60,  and  H.  Cremer,  Reply  to  Harnack, 
p.  163,  Eng.  tr.  1903. 

II  See  especially  Swete,  Tlie  Apostles'  Creed,  p.  60,  for  the 
distinctness  of  the  two  accounts  and  the  almost  entirely  differ- 
ent ground  covered.  For  a  probable  order  of  the  events  see 
Plummer,  St.  Luke,  p.  04  ;  .\ndrews,  Li/e  of  ottr  Lord  upon  the 
Earth,  1892,  p.  92;  Rose,  Studies  in  the  Gospels,  p.  64£E.,  also 
£can!/ite  seton  S.  J/a(!/iiV«,  p.  17. 


thus  transcend    his  own  special   standpoint  and 
purpose  (Falrbaim,  Stud,  in  Life  of  Christ,  p.  36).* 

It  is  indeed  urged  that  this  same  contradiction  may  be  found 
in  those  parts  of  the  canonical  narratives  which  relate  most 
closely  to  our  Lord's  birth  (Lobsteiii,  The  Virgin  Birth  of  Christ, 
p.  i'2,  Eng.  tr.).    But  ;■  '  •        .  h-afed  to  us,  it  may  be 

fairly  said,  present  i'  ivitibility,  and  two  con- 

vergent tra(fitions  i-'  ,-ijiirces  may  be  rightly 

affirmed  to  corrobor;  n  other  as  to  the  main 

facts  which  they  desT  ••  rig  Bevietc,  Oct.  laoi, 

pp.  200,  201;  W.  C.  AIIli],  I.e.  i:  IK'i). 

The  belief  that  St.  Matthew  gives  us  an  account 
which  comes  primarily  from  Joseph,  while  St. 
Luke  gives  us  an  account  that  comes  primarily 
from  Mary,  has  long  been  maintained  by  many 
able  critics,  and  it  is  a  belief  which  still  commends 
itself  as  the  most  satisfactory  e.xplanation  of  the 
two  stories.  It  is  the  simplest  thing  to  see  how 
in  the  one  case  the  frequent  repetition  of  the 
name  '  Joseph '  points  to  him  as  the  primary  source 
of  information,  and  how  in  tlie  other  case  the 
twice  repeated  reference  to  Mary  points  to  her  as 
occupying  the  same  position :  '  ^lary  kept  all 
these  sayings,  pondering  them  in  her  heart'  (Lk 
2") ;  '  and  his  mother  kept  all  these  sayings  in  her 
heart'  (v.^').  One  thing  may  be  safely  asserted, 
that  if  these  two  accounts  had  come  to  us  agreeing 
in  every  particular,  we  should  have  been  asked  to 
discredit  them  on  account  of  this  very  agreement. 

LrrERATtjRE.— A  considerable  amount  of  the  literature  has 
been  indicated  above,  and  for  further  information  art.  VlRQi.v 
Birth  should  be  consulted.  The  following  works  may  be  added 
here:  W.  H.  Mill,  Mythical  JnterpretatUm  qf  the  Gospels, 
1S61 ;  C.  F.  Schniid,  Biblical  Theoloqy  of  the  XT,  1870  (Eng. 
tr.  p.  25  ff.];  F.  L.  Steimnever,  Die  Gesch.  der  Geburt  des 
Herrn,  1873 ;  Wace,  The  Gospel  and  its  Witnesses,  1SS3 ;  F. 
Godet,  Comiiu'iitaire  sur  KoangHe  de  Luc,  1888;  Nosgen,  Gei- 


iTh,  July  1902;  J.  Grill, 
;  des  vierten  Emngelium,  1902, 
(  on,  the  Life  of  Jems,  1903 ; 
ughts  on  the  Incarnation,  1903  ; 


KauJolpli, 
Bible  in  : ' 
worth,  Ti 
Wandel,  /' 
duction  to  ti 
and  "The  C 
Ji^sus  Messie  t 


\  1903,  p.  491  ff.  ;  Bishop  Words- 
..■n  and  the  Creed,  1904  ;  Th.  H. 
.'    iiung,  1903;   E.  Burton,  Intro- 
Clio):  Appended  notes  on '  Quirinius," 
,  Law  in  Luke  U.  22--24,'  1904  ;  Lepin, 
Fils  de  Dieu,  1904,  pp.  6.5-75 ;  P.  W.  Schmidt, 


E.  J.  Knowling. 


ZATir,  1905,  Heft  L 

BIRTHDAY.— In  Mt  14«  and  Mk  6='  this  word 
represents  the  Gr.  ra  yiviina  in  the  account  of  the 
king's  (Herod  Antipas)  feast  to  his  nobles,  at 
which  John  the  Baptist  -was  condemned  to  death. 
It  has  been  suggested,  however,  though  without 
much  acceptance,  that  the  anniversary  referred  to 
was  that  of  Herod's  accession,  not  strictly  that  of 
his  birth.  Tcfiffia.,  which  in  Attic  Greek  means 
'the  commemoration  of  the  dead,'  is  in  the  later 
language  interchangeable  with  ■yeii^O\ia  (birthday 
celebrations),  ;in.l  tht-rf  suciiis  n.i  n.-:i>on  wliy  the 
translatiun  ..i  KV  ami  ,\V  -h..„l.l  nut  W-  ri-ht  (see 
Swete  on  Mk  tl-'.  una  ILi^tiii--'  /'/-',  s.,-.).  The 
custom  of  observing  the  birthday  ul  :i  king  was 
widely  spread  in  ancient  times  (cf.  Gn  -40-",  2  Mac 
G';  Herod,  i.x.  110). 

For  the  question  of  the  date  of  our  Lord's  birth, 
and  the  authority  for  the  traditional 25th  December, 
see  art.  Calendar.  C.  L.  Feltoe. 

BLASPHEMY  (/JXaff^ij/xia  ;  for  derivation  of  word 
see  Hastings'  DB,  vol.  i.  p.  305").— This  word  is 
used  in  the  Gospels,  as  in  other  parts  of  the  NT, 
for  abusive  speech  fjenerally,  as  well  as  for  lan- 
guage that  is  insulting  to  God.     Thus  we  read  of 


guage 

A  cartf 


irst  two  chapters  of  St.  Luke 
some  extra-canonical  parallels, 
il  of  the  narrative,  can  scarcely 


BLASPHEMY 


BLASPHEMY 


209 


'  an  evil  eye,  blasphemy  (RV  railing),  pride,'  etc. 
(Mk  7"-),  where  tlie  position  of  the  word  indicates 
human  relations.  The  evil  eye  is  followed  by  the 
evil  tongue,  the  one  by  look  and  the  other  by 
speech  expressing  malignity  towards  a  fellow-man. 
Two  questions  concerning  blasphemy  come  up  in 
the  Go.spels,  viz.  the  teachin"  of  Jesus  Christ  on 
the  subject,  and  the  charge  of  blasphemy  brought 
against  out  Lord. 

1.  The  teaching  of  Jesns  Christ  concerning 
blaspheray.—Using  tlie  term  in  the  general  sense, 
onr  Lord  does  not  always  formally  distinguish  be- 
tween insulting  speech  with  regard  to  God  and 
abusive  language  towards  men.  ^Xaa^rifila  in  any 
application  of  it  is  sin.  As  railing  against  our 
fellow-men,  it  comes  in  a  catalogue  of  sins  together 
with  the  most  heinous— 'murders,  adulteries,'  etc. 
(Mk  7^^).  In  this  connexion  it  is  treated  as  one  of 
the  'evil  things'  that  'proceed  from  within,  and 
defile  the  man.'  Tims  it  is  taken  to  be  the  expres- 
sion of  a  corrupt  heart,  and  as  such  a  defilement 
of  the  person  wlio  gives  vent  to  it.  Nevertheless 
it  is  not  beyond  the  reach  of  pardon.  With  one 
exception  all  revilings  may  be  forgiven  (Mk  3^- '', 
Mt  12?').  Tlie  comprehensive  sentence  must  in- 
clude blasphemy  against  God,  although  that  is  not 
expressly  mentioned.  In  Mt  12^  there  is  a  refer- 
ence to  blasphemy  against  the  Son  of  Man,  and 
in  both  cases  the  unpardonable  sin  of  blasphemy 
against  the  Holy  Ghost  is  mentioned ;  but  iii 
neither  case  is  there  any  reference  to  blasphemy 
against  the  Father.  Perhaps  the  safest  thing  is 
to  say  that  this  was  not  in  mind  at  the  time,  so 
that  no  direct  pronouncement  was  made  concern- 
ing it;  and,  further,  it  is  to  be  observed  that  Trini- 
tarian distinctions  do  not  appear  in  these  teach- 
ings of  Jesus.  Jesus  is  here  the  '  Son  of  Man,'  not 
'  the  Son,'  i.e.  of  God,  and  the  Holy  Spirit  is  God 
in  His  manifested  activity.  Still,  it  must  be  im- 
plicitly contained  in  St.  Mark's  emphatic  sentence, 
'  All  their  sins  .  .  .  and  their  blasphemies  ivhere- 
with  soever  they  shall  blaspheme  {baa  hv  fiXaucpriuTj- 
aoHnv).' 

To  'speak  a  word  against  the  Son  of  Man'  is 
taken  as  one  form  of  tlie  blasphemy  or  revUing. 
Here,  therefore,  the  word  is  not  used  in  its  rela- 
tion to  God.  It  does  not  stand  for  what  we  now 
understand  by  '  blasphemy '  in  our  narrower  sense 
of  the  word.  Jesus  is  not  here  standing  on  the 
ground  of  His  divinity,  to  insult  which  would  be 
blasphemy  in  this  modern  sense.  He  is  speaking 
of  Himself  as  seen  among  men,  and  referring  to 
personal  insults.  But,  since  the  term  '  the  Son 
of  Man'  appears  to  be  a  veiled  reference  to  His 
Messiahship,  for  Himself  and  for  the  enlightened 
among  His  followers  He  must  have  meant  that 
those  who  insulted  Him,  even  though  He  was  the 
Christ,  were  not  beyond  pardon  ;  cf.  '  Father,  for- 
give them,'  etc.  (Lk  23^,  oni.  BD*,  etc.).  Some 
doubt,  however,  is  thrown  on  this  reference  to  '  the 
Son  of  Man'  because  (1)  it  does  not  occur  in  the 
Mk.  parallel  passage ;  (2)  in  Mk.  but  not  in  Mt. 
the  phrase  '  the  sons  of  men '  occurs  in  an  earlier 
part  of  the  saying  (3'-^). 

The  nature  of  blasphemy  against  the  Holy  Ghost 
(Mt  12=2-32,  MkS-',  Lk  12'»)  must  be  learnt  from 
the  context.  This  i'mIiiiIts  such  notions  as  rejec- 
tion of  the  gospel  ( Inn. ).  .linial  of  the  divinity  of 
Christ  (Athan.),  hhii  i;il  >iii  att.-r  liaptism  (Origen), 
persistence  in  .siii  (ill  di/.-ith  (.\iigust.).  The  form 
of  the  blasphemy  is  given  in  the  words  '  because 
they  said,  He  hath  an  unclean  spirit,'  and  the  occa- 
sion of  it  was  Jesus'  casting  out  of  demons.  Jesus 
declares  that  this  is  done  '  by  the  Spirit  of  God ' 
(Mt  12=«),  or  'by  the  finger  of  God'  (Lk  11»»).  To 
ascribe  this  action  to  Beelzebub  is  to  be  guilty  of, 
or  to  approach  the  guilt  of,  blasphemy  against  tlie 
Holy  Spirit,  because  it  is  treating  the  Holy  Spirit 


as  Beelzebub.  Jesus  did  not  expressly  say  that 
the  scribes  who  put  forward  this  Beelzebub  theory 
of  His  work  had  actually  committed  this  sin.  He 
judged  by  thought  and  intention,  not  by  outward 
utterance.  A  prejudiced,  ignorant,  hasty,  super- 
ficial utterance  of  the  calumny  would  not  contain 
the  essence  of  the  sin.  This  must  be  a  conscious, 
intentional  insult.  If  one  mistakes  a  saint  for  a 
knave,  and  addresses  him  accordingly,  he  is  not 
really  guilty  of  insulting  him,  for  it  is  not  actually 
the  saint  but  the  knave  whom  lie  has  in  mind.  If 
the  presence  of  the  Holy  Spirit  was  not  recognized, 
there  could  be  no  blasphemy  against  the  Holy 
Spirit.  But  when  it  was  perceived  and  yet  deliber- 
ately treated  as  evil,  the  action  would  indicate  a 
wilful  reversal  of  the  dictates  of  conscience.  Our 
Lord  warns  His  hearers  that  such  a  sin  cannot 
be  forgiven  either  in  the  present  age— the  pre- 
Messianic,  or  in  the  age  to  come— the  Messianic, 
that  is,  as  we  should  say,  the  Christian  age.  The 
condition  of  such  a  person  will  be  tliat  he  is  guilty 
{Ivoxos)  of  an  eternal  {aiuvioi')  sin  (.so  RV  of  Mk  S-", 
following  NBL,  etc.,  d^apTr}fiaTos ;  not  'damnation,' 
as  in  AV,  after  the  Syrian  reading  Kpia-coi^,  A,  etc.). 
This  cannot  well  mean  '  a  sin  that  persists,  a  fixed 
disposition,'  as  Dr.  Salmond  understands  it,  be- 
cause (1)  the  Greek  word  anaprrnxa,  stands  for  an 
act,  not  a  state ;  (2)  there  is  nothing  in  the  con- 
text to  indicate  persistency  in  the  blasphemy; 
(3)  the  Jewish  current  conception  was  that  a  sin 
once  committed  remained  on  the  sinner  till  it  was 
atoned  for  or  forgiven.  He  had  to  bear  his  sin. 
Therefore  one  who  was  never  forgiven  would  have 
to  bear  his  sin  eternally,  and  so  would  be  said  to 
have  an  eternal  sin.  \\  ellhausen  understands  it  to 
be  equivalent  to  eternal  punishment  ('schuldig 
ewiger  Siinde,  d.  i.  ewiger  Strafe,'  Evancf.  Marci,  28). 

At  the  same  time,  while  this  must  be  understood 
as  the  correct  exegesis  of  the  words,  the  saying 
should  be  interpreted  in  harmony  with  the  spirit 
of  Christ.  Now  it  is  characteristic  of  legalism  and 
the  letter  to  make  a  solitary  exception,  depending 
on  one  external  act.  The  Spirit  of  Christ  is  con- 
cerned with  character  rather  than  with  specific 
deeds,  and  it  is  contrary  to  His  spirit  that  one 
specific  deed  should  be  singled  out  for  exclusion 
from  mercy.  Then,  elsewhere,  the  breadth  of  His 
gospel  indicates  that  no  genuine  seeker  would  be 
rejected.  Therefore  we  must  understand  Him  to 
mean  either  (1)  that  to  be  guilty  of  such  a  sin  a 
man  must  be  so  hardened  that  he  never  would  re- 
pent, or  (2)  that  such  a  sin  cannot  be  overlooked, 
forgotten,  and  swallowed  up  in  the  general  flood  of 
mercy.  It  must  come  up  for  judgment.  Against 
(l)and  for  (2)  is  the  fact  thatourLord  says  nothing 
of  the  oflender's  disposition,  but  only  refers  to  the 
sin,  its  heinous  character,  and  consequent  never- 
to-bedenied  or  forgotten  ill-desert.  See,  further, 
art.  Unpardonable  Sin. 

2.  The  charge  of  blasphemy  brought  against 
Jesus  Christ.  — This  charge  was  brought  against 
our  Lord  on  three  occasions— two  recorded  in  tlie 
Synoptics  and  one  in  the  Fourth  Gospel.  In  all  of 
these  cases  the  alleged  blasphemy  is  against  God, 
actual  blasphemy  in  our  sense  of  the  word.  The 
first  instance  is  at  the  cure  of  the  paralytic  who 
had  been  let  down  through  the  roof  (Mt  9^,  Mk  2',' 
Lk  52').  Jesus  had  just  said  to  the  sufl'erer,  '  Thy 
sins  are  forgiven  thee.'  Upon  this  the  scribes  and 
Pharisees  who  were  present  complained  that  He 
was  speaking  blasphemies  because  only  God  could 
forgive  sins,  that  is  to  say,  that  He  was  arrogating 
to  Himself  a  Divine  prerogative.  In  His  answer 
He  distinctlj'  claimed  this  right  on  the  ground  of 
His  enigmatic  title  of  'the  Son  of  Man,'  and  held 
it  to  be  confirmed  by  His  cure  of  the  paralytic. 
The  second  occasion  is  that  recorded  by  St.  John, 
where  the  Jews  declare  that  their  attempt  to  stone 


210 


BLESSEDNESS 


Jesus  was  'for  blasphemy,'  addin"  '  because  that 
thou,  being  a  man,  makest  thyself  God'  (Jn  HP). 
This  Avas  just  after  He  had  said, '  I  and  the  Father 
are  one  (ec).'  The  third  occasion  is  at  the  trial  of 
Jesus.  According  to  Mt  26"^  and  JNIk  U^-  "  when 
Jesus,  after  being  adjured  by  the  hi"h  priest  to 
declare  if  He  were  the  Christ,  declared  that  they 
would  'see  the  Son  of  Man  sitting  at  the  riglit 
hand  of  power  and  coming  with  the  clouds  of 
heaven,'  the  high  priest  treated  this  as  blasphemy, 
rending  his  garments  as  a  token  of  horror  at  the 
Avords.  Yet  the  claim  was  not  for  more  than  the 
Book  of  Enoch  assigned  to  the  Messiah.  But 
the  Messiah  in  that  Apocalyptic  book  is  a  heavenly 
being.  Such  a  being  Caiaphas  would  understand 
Jesus  to  claim  to  be,  and  he  reckoned  the  pro- 
fession of  such  a  claim  blasphemous.  This  was  the 
formal  ground  of  the  condemnation  of  Je-sus  to 
death  by  the  Sanhedrin.  The  first  charge,  that  of 
threatening  to  destroy  the  Temple  and  rebuild  it 
in  three  days,  had  broken  down  because  of  the 
inconsistency  of  the  witnesses.  The  second  charge 
is  suddenly  sprung  upon  ^  esus  by  the  high  priest 
on  the  ground  of  His  words  at  the  council ;  and,  on 
this  acco\int,  as  guUty  of  blasphemy.  He  was  con- 
demned to  death,  although  it  was  useless  to  cite 
the  words  before  Pilate,  who  would  have  dismissed 
the  case  as  Gallio  at  Corinth  dismissed  what  he 
regarded  as  'a  question  about  words  and  names' 
(Ac  18").  Therefore  a  third  charge,  never  men- 
tioned in  the  Jewish  trial, — Iwsa:  majestatis,  treason 
against  Ciusar, — was  concocted  for  use  at  the 
Koman  trial. 

It  is  to  be  observed  that  there  is  one  common 
character  in  all  th-rse  accusations  of  blasphemy 
brought  against  Jesus.  He  is  never  accused  of 
direct  blasphemy,  speaking  insulting  words  about 
God.  The  alleged '  blasphemy  is  indirect,  in  each 
case  claiming  more  or  less  Divine  rights  and  powers 
for  Himself. 

Lastly,  it  may  be  noted  that  Lk  2-2'^^  AV  has  the 
word  'blasphemously'  for  the  way  in  Avhicli  the 
mockers  spoke  of  Jesus ;  but  KV'  has  '  reviling,' 
which  is  the  evident  meaning.  There  is  no  refer- 
ence to  our  narrower  sense  of  blasphemy  as  insult- 
ing the  Divine ;  the  word  (/aXoKr^ij/ioOvres)  is  used 
in  the  common  wider  sense. 

Literature;.  —  S.  J.  Andrews,  Life  of  Our  Lord,  505-514  ; 
Hastings'  DB,  art.  'Blasphemy';  Cremer,  BM.-Theol.  Lex. 
s.vv.  fiXaurip^fAiot,  fi\curtprifjiiti ;  and  in  particular  on  blasphemy 
against  the  Holy  Ghost,  Martensen,  Christian  Ethics,  ii.  p. 
12811.;  Gloag,  Exepetical  Studies,  p.  Iff.;  Expositor,  2nd  ser. 
iii.  H882J  p.  321  ff. ;  A.  Maclaren,  Christ's  Musts,  44-64. 

W.  F.  Adeney. 
BLESSEDNESS.  — Though  the  word  'blessed- 
ness' itself  is  never  found  in  the  recorded  utter- 
ances of  our  Lord  nor  in  the  pages  of  the  Gospels, 
the  idea  conveyed  by  it  is  very  frequent.  Tlie 
adjective  '  blessed '  occurs  in  many  contexts,  and 
may,  indeed,  be  termed  a  characteristic  epithet  on 
Christ's  lips.  The  thought  expressed  l)y  it  was 
inherited,  like  so  many  otliers,  from  the  Old  Testa,- 
ment.  It  is  one  of  the  dominant  notes  of  the 
Psalter  (Heb.  "lyN  '  O  the  happiness  of '),  and  consti- 
tutes one  of  the  clearest  and  most  common  terms 
whereby  to  denote  the  ideal  of  Israel's  highest  hopes. 
It  was  natural,  therefore,  that  Jesus  should  take 
•the  word  to  set  forth  the  great  spiritual  realities 
of  His  kingdom.  It  is  in  this  sense  that  it  meets 
us  on  the  earliest  pages  of  St.  Matthew's  Gospel. 
The  famous  form  of  the  sayings  there  collected 
(see  art.  Beatitudes)  is  one  of  the  best-known 
sections  of  the  narrative.  So  throughout  the  jjages 
of  the  Gospels  and  elsewhere  in  tlie  NT  we  iind 
sayings  cast  in  the  same  mould.  All  of  them  are 
expressive  of  the  .spiritual  graces  to  be  looked  for 
in  disciples  of  the  kingdom  (e.g.  Mt  11",  Lk  7'^ 
Mt  24«  Ac  203»),  or  are  indicative  of  high  pri\i- 
leges  open  to  believers  in  its  message  (e.g.  Mt  13"', 


Lk  11-',  Jn  ■Jn-"').  Spiritual  gladness  is  not  only  a 
note  of  servKi'  in  the  kingdom,  but  is  to  accom- 
pany all  its  true  and  inalienable  rewards. 

When  \ve  set  ourstdves  to  discover  the  signifi- 
cance of  these  sayings  we  are  struck  (1)  by  tlieir 
sjiiritual  character.  'I'wice  (Lk  IP'  and  14^^)  beati- 
tudes of  a  material  character  are  uttered  by  our 
Lord's  hearers,  and  He  at  once  rebukes  them,  and 
shows  the  necessity  of  fixing  the  desires  of  the  heart 
on  the  inward  and  unseen.  The  main  <jualities 
designated  and  praised  are  meekness,  purity,  ten- 
dernessof  heart,  peaceableness,  faith,  patience,  con- 
trition, qualities  which  have  no  sooner  been  named 
than  we  are  reminded  of  such  lists  of  the  fruits  of 
the  Spirit  as  we  find  in  Gal  S--'^  or  Eph  i^-^. 
Blessedness,  as  Christ  presented  it,  was  therefore 
a  condition  of  the  mind  and  heart  that  expressed 
an  attitude  of  faith  and  love  towards  God  and  men, 
and  obtained  the  reward  with  certainty  even  if  the 
sowing  were  'in  tears'  and  the  'interest  far  off.' 

(2)  Several  of  these  sayings  are  marked  by  the 
sense  of  the  futurity  of  their  fulfilment.  It  is  note- 
worthy that  in  the  list  of  Beatitudes  in  Mt  5, 
while  the  majority  speak  of  futurity,  '  shall  be 
comforted,'  'shall  inherit,'  etc.,  one  or  two  are 
written  in  the  present  tense,  e.g.  '  theirs  is  the 
kingdom  of  heaven.'  In  v."  we  have  the  unique 
form  of  expression,  'have  been  persecuted  .  .  . 
theirs  is.'  In  St.  Luke  also  we  find  the  same  com- 
mingling of  present  and  future.  This  refiects  a 
state  of  opinion  that  prevails  throughout  the 
Gospels,  and  gives  rise  to  some  of  the  greatest 
problems  of  interpretation,  viz.  in  what  sense  the 
kingdom  of  God  is  to  be  understood— as  a  present 
or  as  a  future  condition.  The  Beatitudes  are  not 
only  closely  related  to  this  question — they  consti- 
tute a  special  aspect  of  it.  As  Titius  puts  it,  '  Over 
every  saying  of  Jesus  may  be  written  the  inscrip- 
tion, "Concerning  the  kingdom  of  God,"'  These 
sayings,  then,  reveal  the  nature  of  the  kingdom  in 
its  twofold  aspect  as  an  inward,  spiritual,  present 
reality  which  exists,  progresses,  suft'ers,  is  in  per- 
petual conflict ;  and,  as  a  great  future  fulfilment, 
when  conflict  shall  turn  to  peace,  failure  to  victory, 
suflfering  to  reward,  and  the  inward  desire  and  the 
outward  attainment  be  one  in  the  presence  of  per- 
fected power. 

Blessedness  may  therefore  be  regarded  as  one 
of  tlie  forms  under  which  our  Lord  presented  the 
character  of  His  kingdom,  and  so  it  becomes  an 
illuminative  idea  whereby  to  read  the  whole 
Gospel  narratives.  They  all  illustrate  it.  They 
all  serve  to  make  up  its  content.  The  word  and 
thought  derived  from  the  Old  Testament  receive 
richer  Eignificance,  and  may  be  taken  as  equi- 
valent to  those  other  great  terms,  such  as  '  eternal 
life '  and  '  the  kingdom  of  heaven,'  under  which, 
in  the  pages  of  St.  John  and  St.  Matthew,  the 
great  purposes  of  God  in  Christ  are  set  forth. 


rticular, 


icTes  in 


Gop, 


LlF 


Mt  B  ami  Lk  U,  .and  on 
til.  I    I't^-d,  especially,  for   practi'v-il    i)ur]jose.-4, 

Moi.  ;  ;  ,  i:,-,n.s.  Gr.  Test.];  Trench,  The  .iermon  on 

tl„'M..',.'  I  ,  ^i  i-.ccnt  full  comnu-ntarv  on  Matthew  is 
that  of  Zahii  i  '  .i  ni  i'.-;.-  -n  Uf  Kin-dom  of  God 
should  also  1..  In.  A,  Thins,  Die  AT 

Lehre  vmi  •!  >     -'  :     i     i    i -nr. ;  and  Bousset, 

Jesu  Predi'ii  I  '  •  ntinn.    See  also  N. 

Smyth,  C'/iri.-'""i  '-''"'  ,  li-il  .  .1  !:,  I. i-htfnot,  .'ScnnoiM  mSt. 
Paul's,  178;  T.  G.  Sclbv,  The  Imperfect  Angel,  25. 

G.  CuRRiE  Martin. 
BLESSING.— 

1.  Introductory. 

2.  Terms. 

a.  Jewish  usage. 
4.  Usage  in  the  Gospels. 
Literature. 
1.  Introductory. — The  main  underlyir.g  idea  of 
the  characteristic  New  Testament  w  ord  for  '  bles.'j- 


BLESSING 


BLESSING 


211 


ing'  (erXovfii')  seoms  lo  be  that  of  {goodwill,  which, 
on  the  part  of  man  towards  God,  has  its  appro- 
priate expression  in  praise  and  thanksgiving,  flie 
close  connexion  of  these  two  last  ideas  is  clearly 
seen  in  the  New  Testament  in  tlie  interchange  of 
the  expressions  for  '  to  bless '  (€i;Ao7fri')  and  '  to  give 
thanks,'  namely  to  Ood  (ewxapi"'"''"',  cf.  r.g.  Mk  G'" 
and  II  with  Jn  6"  ;  and  see,  further,  below,  §  4), 
and  is  exiilained  l)y  tlie  Jewish  development  of  the 
term  for  'blessing'  (hUrakhdh ;  cf.  further,  §  ib). 
In  Jewish  religious  terminology,  under  the  influ- 
ence of  the  high  ethical  views  of  God's  character 
and  uniqueness,  and  His  relation  to  Israel  and 
mankind,  that  liad  been  developed,  '  blessing ' 
acquires  a  lofty  .spiritual  connotation.  God 
'blesses'  man  and  his  world  by  His  ever  active, 
beneficent  I'rovidence ;  man  '  blesses '  God  by 
thankful  recognition  of  this,  and  by  pure  acts  of 
praise  ;  man  'blesses'  man  by  invoking  the  Divine 
favour  for  his  fellows'  benetit  (cf.  e.g.  Ps  129*) ; 
and  even  when  material  things  are  the  objects  of 
blessin",  this  finds  its  proper  expres-sion  in  an  act 
of  thanksgiving  to  the  Divine  Giver. 

The  original  sense  of  the  Heb.  verb  herakh  (Piel,  denomina- 
tive from  herekh,  '  knee')  is  more  probably  'to  cause  to  make 
progress '  (so  Cheyne)  than  any  notion  of  adoration  ('  to  bend 
the  knee ').  The  primitive  conception  of  blessing  and  cursing, 
according  to  which  they  were  regarded  as  possessing 
"of  the  speak' 


2.  rer»w.— The  terms  for  '  bles.sing '  used  in  the 
Gospels  are — 

{a)  eiXoyuv,  '  to  bless,'  and  eiiXoyvTSi,  euXoyrnihos, 
'  blessed. '  All  these  forms  are  common  in  the 
LXX,  where,  in  the  vast  majority  of  instances, 
they  correspond  to  .some  form  of  the  Heb.  word 
TI3  or  its  derivatives. 

ti/y.oyuy  is  used — 

(A)  of  men :  (1)  as  in  Greek  writi 
praise,"  "celebrate  with  praises,'  vi2 

in  the  Gospels:  e.g.  Lk  164  -vii  24M  [:.  .    _.  

?»l«?£i»,  "to  glorify';  see  under  limv',  below].'  (2)  "'To  invoke 
blessings  upon  '  (a  sense  peculiar  to  Biblical  Greek) :  e.g.  Lk  628. 
(3)  '  To  bless  ■  material  objects  (i.e.  to  bless  God  for  their  be- 
stowal) :  e.g.  LkB"': 

(B)  0/  God  :  (4)  '  To  bestow  blessings,  favour,  upon  men ' : 
e.g.  Lk  1*-  (tuXoyvifAivoi).  [The  compound  xartukcysivy  'to  call 
down  blessings  upon'  occurs,  according  to  the  best  attested 
reading,  in  Mk  10i»]. 

(6)  Ei^xopio-reii',*  'to  give  thanks,'  viz.  to  God, 
esp.  for  food  :  e.g.  Mt  15^"  26".  With  this  compare 
also— 

{c)  i^ofj.o\oyeii>,  'to  celebrate,'  'give  praise  or 
thanks  to'  [tlvI]  :  Mt  ll-'^  and  ||,  and— 

id)  aivelv,  '  to  prai.se,  extol '  God  :  Lk  2'3-  =»  Wi 
24'3  (reading  doubtful).  [Cf.  the  use  of  the  syn- 
onymous expression  Soi&leiv,  Lk  17'',  and  SiSbvai. 
6l>iav  T(j  ffe(f~,t  'to  give  glory  to  God,'  Lk  I"'*— 
both  of  thanksgiving]. 

(e)  imKaplieiv,  '  to  pronounce  blessed ' :  once  only 
in  Gospels,  Lk  1« ;  and  /iaitdpios,  '  blessed,'  '  hapjjy  ' 
(esp.  in  a  congratulatory  sense) :  e.n.  in  the  Be  ' 
tudes  (Mt  53-",  Lk  6*-=- ;  cf.  Jn  20=^).  Both  W( 
are  common  in  the  LXX. 


*).     Both  word? 


11,  IS  remarKaoie  mat  tne  term  <i/v«/i,irri,.  occurs  very  raroh 
(and  only  in  the  Apocryphal  books)in  the  LXX.  The  coinni.,ij 
LX.X  equivalent  for  'to  give  thanks '(Heb.  Iii'iduh)  \s  iin/juXayi,,. 
uhuf  is  also  of  frequent  occurrence  there.  The  Bishop  of 
Salisbury  (The  Holy  Communion'^,  p.  135  n.  34)  suggests  that 
liAsj-frK  in  the  NT  was  '  often  purposely  exchanged  ...  for  the 
more  classical  and  intelligible  luxapiirTuv.' 

3.  Jetvish  icsage.—T\\e  elements  that  entered 
into  the   Hebrew  idea   of    '  blessing '  J  sketched 

•  The  derivatives  iij;«^,o-T;«  ('giving  of  thanks')  and  lirifiir- 
Tt,-  ('  thankful ')  do  not  occur  in  the  Gospels, 
f  See,  further,  on  this  expression  Grimm-Tha\er,  Lex.  s.v 


above  (§  1)  were  elaborately  developed  in  later 
Jewisli  usage.  Here  the  most  important  points 
for  the  illustration  of  the  Gosjiels  may  be  briefly 
sumiiiarized. 

(A)  Blea-tinci  of  /)e)-so».s.— According  to  Jewish 
ideas,  God  is  the  sole  source  of  all  blessing,  both 
material  and  spiritual ;  and  to  Him  alone,  there- 
fore, praise  and  thanksgiving  are  due  (cf.  Eph  P 
for  a  beautiful  Christian  application  of  the  idea). 
Thus,  even  in  the  great  Priestly  Blessing  (Nu  6-=-"), 
which  filled  so  large  a  place  in  Jewish  liturgical 
worship  botli  in  the  temple  and  (in  a  less  degree) 
in  the  synagogue,  it  was  not  the  priest  »ej-  se  who 
blessed,  but  God  (Sifrc,  ad  loc.).*  The  blessing  of 
man  by  man  finds  one  of  its  most  prominent  ex- 
pressions in  greeting  and  farewell,  a  custom  of 
great  antiquity,  and  not,  of  course,  in  itself 
specifically  Jewish.t  But  the  formulas  connected 
with  it  naturally  reflect  Jewish  religious  senti- 
ment in  a  marked  degree.  The  fundamental  idea 
of  goodwill  is  worked  out  into  an  invocation  of 
the  Divine  favour  and  providence,  and  consequent 
prosperity,  on  the  recipient.  These  ideas  find 
beautiful  expression  in  the  Priestly  Blessing,  and 
in  the  poetical  amplification  of  it  embodied  in  Ps 
67.  J  The  characteristic  word  employed  in  greeting 
and  farewell  is  '  peace'  (Heb.  shclldm,  Greek  elpvuri), 
which  has  a  wide  connotation,  embracing  the 
notions  of  security,  safety,  prosperity,  and  feli- 
city.§  Thus  the  regular  formula  of  greeting  is 
'Peace  be  to  thee'  (Jg  6=^  Dn  10"),  and,  for  fare- 
well, 'Go  in  peace'  (cf.  1  S  1"  etc.).  'To  greet' 
is  expressed  in  Hebrew  by  the  phrase  'to  ask 
of  ajjerson  concerning  peace  (welfare)'  (cf.  Gn 
4.32',  Ex  18'  etc.),  and  similar  formulas.H  The  use 
of  the  word  'blessed'  (Heb.  barukh),  both  in 
solemn  greeting  (1  S  15"  'Blessed  be  thou  of  J",' 
cf.  Ps  118-«  'Blessed  is  he  that  cometh ')  and 
parting  (1  K   10"),  should   also  be  noted   in   this 


The  custom  of  imparting  a  solemn  blessing  at 
final  departure  (from  lifet)  is  attested  in  the 
Talmud  (e.g.  Ber.  286  — death  of  Johanan  ben 
Zakkai,  c.  75-80  A.D.). 

Besides  the  salutation,  other  forms  of  blessing 
prevailed,  notably  the  blessing  of  children  by 
parents  (and  sometimes  by  others).  This  custom 
13  well  attested  in  the  OT  (cf.  e.g.  Gn  9^  27"-  48»). 
Jacob's  blessing  of  Epliraim  and  Manasseh  is  esp. 
notable,  because  it  fixed  the  formula  which  has 
been  used  among  the  Jews  in  later  times.**  The 
earliest  literary  evidence  for  the  existence  of  this 
particular  custom  is  quite  late  (17tli  cent.);  but 
that  some  form  of  parental  blessing  was  well 
known  by  the  NT  period  may  be  inferred  from 
Sir  39  (cf.  Mk  10i»-i«  and  ||). 


Jerusalem  there  was  the  godly  custom  to  initiate  the  children 
at  the  beginning  of  the  thirteenth  year  by  fasting  the  whole 
Day  of  Atonement.    During  this  year  they  took  the  boy  to  the 


the 


il  sanctity  with  which  the  Aaronic  blessing  was 

1'    later  period  !a\-  in  the  pronunciation  of  'the 

,    which   wa::   permitted  to   the   priests  only. 

M\er,  this  restriction  was  not  in  force.     Thus 
'"  /■-  \.  4)  cites  Ru  '2-1  as  proving  that  'the  name' 

ilniar^-  greetings  ;  cf.  also  Ps  1'298. 

rticle "' Salutation '  (with  reff.)  in  KMo's  Biblical 


739  f. 


i  the  Priestly  Blessing 


;  The  whole  Psalm  gives  a 
Hebrew  idea  of  blessing.     Other  ecnoes  < 
occur  in  the  Psalter  (Ps  46  3116  803-  '■  19). 

5  Note  that  this  word  forms  the  climax  of  the  Priestly  Bless- 
ing (Nu  626). 

II  For  further  details  see  the  Hebrew  Lexicons,  .■!.!;.  D1S7. 

H  Cf.  2  K  29. 

**  I''or  boys  the  foi-mula  runs:  'May  God  tiiake  thnf  like 
Ephraim  and  Manasseh';  for  girls:  'Muv  noil  uiakf  thie  like 
Sarah,  Rebekah,  Rachel,  and  Leah'  (.1.  Kujn;  Am  other 
blessing  suggested  by  the  occasion  or  s].,  ri:,l  ,  nviiiintanoes 
might  be  added.  See,  further,  Jemsh  i'luyi .  (,13  ciud  helow, 
}  «,  end). 


BLESSING 


BLESSING 


priests  and  learned  men  that  they  might  bless  him,  and  pray 
for  him  that  God  might  thinli  him  worthy  of  a  life  devoted  to 
the  study  of  the  Torah  and  pious  works.'  * 

(B)  Blessing  of  things. — The  feeling  of  praise 
and  tlianksgiving,  whicli  is  so  striking  and  promi- 
nent a  feature  of  Jewish  devotional  life  and  worship, 
has  crystallized  itself  into  a  regular  form  of  bene- 
diction known &s Berakhah (lit.  'Blessing').  In  its 
technical  sense  the  term  denotes  a  set  form  of 
prayer,  which  opens  with  the  words,  '  Blessed  art 
Thou,  O  Lord  our  God,  King  of  the  Universe, 
who,"  etc.,  and,  in  its  fully  developed  form,  closes 
with  a  repetition  of  the  same  words.  This  class  t 
plays  an  important  part  in  the  Jewish  Liturgy. 

In  its  simplest  and  shortest  form  the  Bh-akhdh 
opens  as  described,  but  has  no  closing  refrain. 
It  contains  a  brief  expression  of  thanks  to  God 
for  .some  benefit  conferred  or  privilege  enjoyed. { 

Undoubtedly  the  most  ancient  kind  of  benedic- 
tion is  that  recited  at  the  meal.  The  Book  of 
Samuel  attests  the  antiquity  of  the  custom,  for  in 
one  passage  (1  S  9'')  we  are  told  that  the  people 
refused  to  eat  the  sacrificial  meal  until  it  had  been 
blessed. 

The  Biblical  command  on  which  the  obligation 
of  grace  at  meals  (Heb.  birkath  ha-7iiaz6n)—i.c. 
according  to  the  Eabbis  (Ber.  21a,  486 ;  Tos.  Bcr. 
vii.  1),  grace  both  before  and  after  eating — is 
founded,  occurs  in  Dt  8'°  ('When  thou  hast  eaten 
and  art  full,  thou  shalt  bless  the  Lord  thy  God 
for  the  good  land  which  he  hath  given  thee '). 

The  Benediction  over  bread,  which  is  recited 
before  the  meal  begins,  and  which  may  have  been 
kno«-n  to  our  Lord,  runs :  '  Blessed  art  Thou,  O 
Lord  our  God,  King  of  the  Universe,  who  bringeth 
forth  bread  from  the  earth.'  The  corresponding 
one  said  before  drinking  wine  is :  '  Blessed  art 
Thou,  O  Lord  our  God,  King  of  the  Universe, 
wlio  Greatest  the  fruit  of  the  vine '  (ef.  Lk  22'*). 

Xote. — The  Benediction  (thanksgiving)  over  wine  was  especi- 
ally associated  with  the  hallowing  of  the  Sabbath  and  festival 
days  embodied  in  the  ceremonies  of  Kiddush  ('  Sanctification  *) 
and  Habdaldh  ('Separation'  or  'Distinction').  For  a  full  de- 
scription of  these  observances  see  the  Jeieish  Bmnjc.  s.vv. 
*  Kiddush '  and  '  Habdalah ' ;  and  for  a  possible  connexion  with 
the  Gospels  reference  may  be  made  to  an  article  bv  the  present 
writer  in  the  Joum.  o/  Thaol.  SItidies  (iii.  [I902)'p.  357ff.)  on 
'  The  Jewish  Antecedents  of  the  Eucharist.'  Though  thanks- 
giving is  an  essential,  and  indeed  the  most  prominent,  element 
in  consecration  or  sanctification,  the  ideas  must  be  kept  distinct. 
Cf.  Bp.  of  Salisbury,  op.  cit.  p.  135 f.. 

The  more  important  Benedictions  in  this  con- 
nexion are  reserved  for  the  recitation  that  follows 
the  meal.  Of  these  there  are  now  four  (see 
Smgei-'s  Praijer-Book,  p.  286).  The  first  ('Blessed 
art  'Thou,  0  Lord  .  .  .  wlio  givest  food  unto  all ') 
is  ascribed  by  the  Talmud  {Ber.  486)  to  Moses ; 
the  second  ('for  the  land  and  for  the  food')  to 
Joshua,  who  led  Israel  into  the  land  ;  the  third 
('  Blessed  art  Thou,  O  Lord,  who  in  Thy  compas- 
sion rebuildest  Jerusalem')  to  king  Solomon;  the 
fourth  ('Blessed  art  Thou,  O  Lord  our  God  .  .  . 
who  art  kind  and  dealest  kindly  with  all ')  to  the 
Rabbis  of  Jamnia  in  the  2nd  cent.  .\.D.§ 

The  act  of  thanksgiving  a.fter  the  meal  is  not  explicitly 
alluded  to  in  the  Gospels.  That  the  custom  is  an  ancient  one, 
however,  appears  from  the  fact  that,  by  the  time  of  the  com- 
pilation of  the  Slishna,  rules  as  to  its  ordering  had  been  fully 
developed  (cf.  Ber.  vii.).  It  constitutes  a  sort  of  service,  with 
responses  (which  vary  according  to  the  number,  etc.,  of  those 


•  Schechter,  Studies  in  Judati 


group  of  ( 
of  which 


t  The  I 
•Eigh 

undoubtedly  pre-Christian.     It  is  notable  that  here      

of  petition  accompanies  that  of  praise  and  thanksgiving  (for 
text  of  these  in  English  see  Singer's  Heb.-Eng.  Prauer^Jhuk, 
pp.  44-54). 

t  A  very  large  number  of  these  short  Benedictions,  expressive 
of  thankful  recognition  of  God's  goodness  and  providence  as 
shown  in  various  ways,  has  been  developed.  For  a  full  emiuiera- 
tion  see  Jeicieh   Encyc.  s.v.   'Benedictions,'  or   the   I'rayer- 

§  Cf.  Jewish  Encyc.  iii.  9. 


present).     Details  and  text  of  prayers  can  be  read  in  Singer, 
pp.  27S-285. 

Another  ancient  form  of  Benediction  (with  responses),  which, 
however,  is  not  alluded  to  in  the  Gospels,  is  that  oflfered  before 
and  after  the  reading  of  Scripture  (for  the  modern  forms  cf. 
Singer,  p.  147  8.).  This  has  a  Biblical  basis  in  the  practice  of 
Ezra  mentioned  in  Neh  86,  and  was  doubtless  well  known  in  the 
time  of  Jesus. 

Enough  has  been  said  above  to  make  it  clear 
that  the  set  form  of  Benediction,  based  as  it  is 
upon  Biblical  precedents,  had  been  developed  by 
tlie  NT  period.  The  first  tractate  of  the  Mishna 
(compiled  in  its  present  form,  probably  from  earlier 
collections,  at  end  of  2nd  cent.  A.D.)  deals  with  the 
various  forms  of  the  Berakhah  (hence  its  name 
Berakhoth  = '  Blessings '),  and  embodies  the  earliest 
Rabbinical  tradition  on  the  subject.  According 
to  the  Talmud  (Bcr.  ZZa),  the  recognized  Benedic- 
tions were  formulated  hy  the  '  men  of  the  Great 
Synagogue.'  Later  the  rule  was  deduced  that  a 
Benediction,  to  be  regular,  must  contain  the  name 
of  God  and  the  attribute  of  God's  kingship  (Ber. 
406). 

4.  Usage  in  the  Gospels. — The  Jewish  concep- 
tion of  '  blessing'  (cf.  §§  1  and  3)  is  reflected  in  the 
Gospel  narratives  in  its  piu-est  and  most  elevated 
form.  The  central  thought  of  God  as  the  sole 
object  of  praise,  of  God's  favour  as  the  highest 
form  of  felicity  (cf.  Lk  1=*),  the  duty  of  rendering 
thanks  to  Him  as  the  Great  Giver  and  Father,  are 
strikingly  enforced,  especially  in  some  of  the  say- 
ings of  Jesus.  The  Gospel  usage  may  best  be 
illustrated  by  an  analysis  of  the  passages  in  whicli 
the  terms  enumerated  above  (§  2)  respectively 
occur.     These  may  be  grouped  as  follows : — 

(a)  Passages  involving  the  use  of  evXoyelf,  'to 
bless,'  and  its  derivatives  : 

(1)  With  a  personal  object  expressed,  ^^z.  : — 

(A)  God:  Lkl"2=8  24«. 


The  term  occurs 

God,  Ilk  1461  (cf.  the  regul 

One,'  'Blessed  be  He'),  and  once  in  a  liturgical  ascription  of 

praise,  Lk  1**  (opening  line  of  the  Be)t€dictits). 

(B)  Man :  in  the  sense  of  '  to  invoke  blessings 
on,'  Lk  6=*;  esp.  at  solemn  parting  or  farewell, 
Lk  2«  24™'-  (cf.  the  Rabbinical  parallel  tiuoted 
above) ;  of  solemn  blessing  of  children,  Mk  10"^ 
(better  reading  KarevXdyu),  cf.  Mt  19",  and  the 
Jewisli  illustration  already  cited. 

JVofe.— Here  it  may  be  remarked  that  the  blessing  was  im- 
parted either  by  the  imposition  of  hands,  in  the  case  of  one  or 
a  smaU  number  (cf.  Gn  48''  '9,  lit  1915,  Hk  iol6);  or,  in  other 
cases,  with  upUfted  hands  (Lv  9»,  Lk  ■24W  ;  cf.  Sir  5020). 

Here  naturally  comes  to  be  considered  the  use 
of  fi5\o77)/4^vos=''blessed'  (viz.  by  God)  :  it  occurs 
six  times  in  the  acclamation,  borrowed  from  Ps 
118  [117]=«,  of  '  him  that  cometh  ' ;  Mt  2P  23^  and 
the  II  passages,  Mk  IP,  Lk  13"  \9^,  Jn  12'»  (where 
D  reads  fv\oyriT6i) ;  once  of  the  mother  of  the 
Lord  and  her  Son,  Lk  1^-  (evXoyrifiivTt,  k.t.\.,  in  1=»  is 
not  well  attested) ;  also  of  '  tlie  nations  on  the 
King's  right  hand  '  (Mt  25^''),  and  of  '  the  kingdom 
of  David^(Mk  11">). 

(2)  With  a  material  object :  Mk  8',  Lk  9'"  (both 
of  food).  '  In  these  cases  blessing  the  bread  must 
be  understood  as  "  blessing  God  the  giver  of  the 
bread  " '  (Westcott),  in  accordance  with  the  Jewish 
usage  illustrated  above  (§  3). 

(3)  Absolutely,  without  any  object  expressed 
(always  of  food  and  sustenance) :  Mk  6"  II  Mt  W 
(feeding  of  the  five  thousand),  Mk  14=  II  Mt  26-» 
(ill  ref.  to  bread  at  Last  Supper),  and  Lk  24*. 

In  close  connexion  with  the  above  we  have  to 
consider  here— 

(6)  T/iei(se  ofdxapKrreTi',  'to  give  thanks,'  in  the 
Gospels. 

(1)  Of  food  and  wine.  Tlie  word  occurs  ele\eii 
times,  and  in  eight  of  these  has  reference  either  to 


BLINDNESS 


BLINDNESS 


213 


food  or  wiae,  ^^z. :  Mk  8"  ||  Mt  15^^  (of  the  feeding 
of  the  four  thousand),  Lk  22""  (in  ref.  to  the  bread 
at  the  Last  Supper),  Jn  6""  ^  (of  feeding  of  the 
ftve  thousand),  of  thanksgiving  over  the  cup 
the  Last  Supper,  Mk  14=^  ||  Mt  26='  and  Lk  22". 

It  is  clear  from  a  comparison  of  the  parallel 
passages  noted  above  that  fuXoveii/  and  evxapt-cmii 
are  freely  interchanged  (cf.  Cremor,  Bib.-Thcol. 
Lex.  S.W.;  Swete,  JT/iSf.  iii.  [1902]  163).  It  thus 
appears  that  the  predominant  idea  in  the  Gospel 
usage  of  such  expressions  as  '  blessing  the  bread ' 
j  is  not  so  much  that  of  sanctification  or  consecra- 

'  tion  as  of  thanksgiving  to  God  for  the  gift.* 

(2)  Of  thanksgiving  to  God  in  other  connexions ; 
Lk  18",  Jn  11". 

(3)  Of  thanksgiving  to  Christ :  Lk  IV'". 


(Note  here  that  the  act  of  thanksgiving  \ 


accompanied 


Jesus  lays  stress  (v.l8),  '  Were  there  none  found  that  returned 
to  give  glory  [here  =  '  to  render  thanlts ']  to  God  save  thia 
stranger? ') 

(c)  and  (d)  The  nsc  of  the  terms  i^ofioKayih, 
'thank,'  andahuv,  'praise'  (cf.  Soldfeiy,  'glorify'), 
in  a  more  or  less  synonymous  sense  (the  sense  of 
thanksgiving),  has  been  siifficiently  explained 
above  (§2),  and  does  not  call  for  further  remark 
here. 
Note,  however,  that  n'ltm  is  never  used  of  or  by  Jesus. 

(e)  The  rise  of  naKdpios,  '  blessed,'  is  frequent  in 
the  sayings  of  Jesus  (its  employment  iu  the 
'  Beatitudes '  has  already  been  noted  above).  It 
is  used  especially  in  a  congratulatory  sense,  corre- 
sponding in  the  LXX  to  the  Hebrew  term  'ashrv  = 
Miappy'  (lit.  'O  the  happiness  of).  In  this  way 
it  is  employed,  especially  in  personal  address  (a 

food  instance  occurs  in  Mt  16"  '  Blessed  art  thou, 
imon  Bar-jona,'  etc.).  Espeeia.lly  notable  are 
such  sayings  as  that  recorded  in  Lk  IP'-  =»  ( ' Blessed 
is  the  womb  that  bare  thee'  .  .  .  'Yea,  rather, 
blessed  are  they  that  hear  the  word  of  God  and 
keep  it'),  in  whicli  Jesus  pointedly  insists  on  the 
idea  that  true  blessing  and  true  blessedness  are  to 
be  found  in  thought  and  action  that  are  imme- 
diately related  and  directed  to  God  and  the  Divine 
requirements.  The  Jewish  conception  of  blessing 
aud  blessedness  is  thus  set  forth  in  its  purest  and 
most  elevated  phase. 

Literature.— The  most  important  original  authorities  for  the 
Jewish  data  are  the  recensions  of  the  tractate  BirakhClh 
extant  in  the  Mishna  (various  ed.  of  Heb.  text ;  Eng.  tr.  in 
Barclay's  Talmud,  1877,  and  De  Sola  and  Raphall's  Mishnah, 
1845),  and  the  Tosephta  (Heb.  text,  ed.  Zuckermandel).  For  a 
full  account  of  these  see  Jennsh  Encyclopedia,  s.v.  'Berakot.' 
For  an  account  of  the  various  Jewish  forms  of  blessing  see  the 
articles  'Benedictions,'  'Blessing  of  Children,'  and  'Blessing 
(Priestly),'  with  the  literature  cited,  in  the  same  work.  Cf.  also 
the  art.  '  Abschied  '  in  Hamburger's  ME  fur  liibel  und  Talmud, 
vol.  ii.    Some  relevant  data  are  also 


llebre 


on    'The  BibUcal  Idea  of 


Pnestly  Element  in  On,  (1905)  136  ff.  Reference  may'also  be 
made  to  the  works  of  Edersheim  (esp.  The  Temple  :  its  Ministry 
etc.,  where  the  Jewish  material  is  set  forth  fully)  and  those  of 
the  elder  Lightfoot.  Other  references  have  been  given  in  the 
body  of  the  article.  (j    g    ^OX 

BLINDNESS.— Blindness  is  a  very  conmion  dis- 
ease in  the  East.  It  is  mainly  due  to  ophthalmia 
caused  partly  by  the  sun-glare  and  partly  by  lack 
of  cleanliness.  The  word  '  blindness  '  or  '  blind '  is 
used  in  the  Bible,  however,  very  frequently  of  a 
spiritual  condition ;  and  the  references  in  the 
Gospels  are  specially  interesting  as  the  physical 
and  the  spiritual  states  are  sometimes  intertwined, 
the  former  being  used  as  emblematic  of  the  latter. 

'  Cf.  the  valuable  remarks  of  the  Bp.  of  Salisbury  on  this 
point  (pp.  cit.  p.  135  f . ).    He  notes  the  occurrence  of  the  expres- 

siniw  ■„^»„-,.,fl, —  -rpufi,  ilxocpurTniiU  ipm,  etc.,  '  thanksgiven 


In  Mt  IP  the  first  evidence  of  His  Messiahship, 
adduced  by  Jesus  to  the  disciples  of  John  the 
Baptist,  is  that  the  blind  receive  their  sight.  The 
first  miracle  of  tliis  nature  in  the  life  of  Jesus  is 
recorded   by  St.   Matthew   (9-™-)   as  occurring  at 

Two  blind  men  followed  Him,  crying,  *Thou  Son  of  David, 
have  mercy  on  us.'  Jesus  seems  unwilling  at  first  to  grant  their 
request,  as  we  are  told  that  it  was  not  till  they  had  entered 
the  house  with  Him  that  He  turned  a  favourable  ear  to  their 
entreaty.  Satisfied  of  their  faith,  and  of  the  spirit  in  which 
they  approached  Him,  He  pronounced  the  word  of  heahng. 

In  St.  Mark  (S-'f-)  another  miracle  of  restoring 
sight  to  the  blind  is  recorded  which  has  features  oi 
its  own. 


havmg  spit  upon  his  eyes,  touches  them.  Sight  is  only  gradually 
restored,  as  at  first  he  sees  men  like  trees  walking.  This  is  one 
of  the  many  instances  of  the  realism  of  St.  Hark.  Probably 
it  is  a  reminiscence  of  the  well-known  difficulty  experienced 
by  the  blind-bom,  to  whom  sight  has  been  given  through  a 
surgical  operation,  of  adjusting  the  knowledge  acquired  by  the 
new  faculty  with  that  derived  through  the  other  avenues  of 
sense-perception. 

The  story  of  the  blind  man  or  men  at  Jericho  is 
recorded  in  all  three  Synoptics  (Mt  20="-,  Mk  lO*''-, 
Lk  IS^'"'-).  It  has  also  features  in  common  with 
the  incident  narrated  in  Mt  9-''. 

St.  Mark  and  St.  Luke  speak  of  only  one  blind  man,  St. 
Matthew  has  two.  All  three  give  the  words  of  healing  differ- 
ently. There  ha\e  been  many  attempts  made  to  h,armonize 
the  various  accounts,*  but  the  necessity  for  making  such 
attempts  arises  out  of  a  mechanical  theory  of  inspiration  which 
is  difficult  to  maintain.  Is  it  not  enough  for  all  practical  pur- 
poses to  hold  the  substantial  accuracy  of  the  Evangelic  narrative 
without  troubling  ourselves  about  those  minute  divergences 
which  occur  in  different  versions  of  the  same  event  narrated  by 
the  most  trustworthy  witnesses  ? 

The  miracles  recorded  in  Mt  12=2  and  Jn  9  stand 
by  themselves  as  having  a  very  close  relation  to 
the  teaching  of  Jesus  which  follows.  St.  Matthew 
tells  us  that  there  was  brought  to  Jesus  one  pos- 
sessed with  a  devil,  blind  and  dumb  ;  and  He  healed 
him,  insomucli  that  the  blind  and  dumb  both  saw 
and  spake.  This  gave  rise  to  the  charge  of  the 
Pharisees,  that  the  miraculous  power  of  Jesus  was 
not  a  God-given,  but  a  devil-given  power.  'This 
fellow  doth  not  cast  out  devils,  but  by  Beelzebub  the 
prince  of  the  devils.'  To  the  clear  moral  vision  of 
Jesus  the  attitude  implied  in  this  objection  showed 
a  radical  depravity  of  nature,  an  inability  to  dis- 
criminate between  fundamental  ethical  distinctions. 
'  A  house  divided  against  itself  cannot  stand.'  If 
Satan,  inspires  to  deeds  of  beneficence,  tlien  he 
ceases  to  be  Satan.  He  who  does  good  is  inspired 
of  God,  and  the  measure  of  the  good  he  does  is  the 
measure  of  his  conquest  over  Satan.  It  is  in  this 
connexion  that  Jesus  utters  the  remarkable  refer- 
ence to  blasphemy  against  the  Holy  Ghost  as  the 
unforgivable  sin.     See  art.  Blasphemy. 

The  other  instance  where  the  miraculous  cure  of 
blindness  is  made  a  text  for  the  most  characteristic 
teaching  of  Jesus  is  that  recorded  in  Jn  9.  Here 
it  is  a  man  blind  from  his  birth  that  Jesus  cures. 
And  when  the  Pharisees  seek  to  persuade  him  of 
their  peculiar  theological  tenet  that  the  power  of 
Jesus  IS  derived  from  Satan,  the  man  has  strength 
of  mind  enough  to  fall  back  on  that  primary  moral 
instinct  to  wliich  Jesus  always  appeals.  '  Whereas 
I  was  blind,  now  I  see.  This  man  has  done  good 
to  me,  and  for  me,  therefore,  he  is  good.  It  is  not 
the  function  of  the  prince  of  darkness  to  give  sight 
to  the  blind.'  He  cannot,  therefore,  accept  their 
theory  of  the  source  whence  Jesus  derives  His 
power. 

This  leads  us  to  a  predominant  feature  of  the 
teaching  of  Jesus — His  presentation  of  the  gospel 
as  vision.  Jesus  claims  to  be  the  Light  of  the  world. 
Light  to  those  who  see  is  its  own  evidence,  aud 


*For  a 
St.  Luke,' 


of  these  see  PUimmer,  2nter7iat.  Crit.  Com., 


214 


BLOOD 


BLOOD 


Jesus,  therefore,  in  making  tliis  claim  can  desire  no 
recognition  other  than  that  spontaneously  made  by 
the  soul  when  purged  from  the  sinful  passions  that 
ohscure  or  deflect  its  vision.  To  secure  effective 
vision  there  must  he  not  only  light,  but  also  a 
healthy  visual  organ.  Blindness  may  arise  from 
the  absence  of  light,  from  mere  functional  derange- 
ment of  tlie  organ  of  vision,  or  from  some  fatal 
organic  defect  in  tlie  organ.  It  is  to  those  whose 
lilindness  comes  from  either  of  the  first  two  causes 
that  Jesus  appeals.  He  comes  as  Light,  strength- 
ening the  visual  faculty,  dispelling  the  darkness 
that  envelops  the  soul,  and  revealing  to  it  the 
spiritual  realm.  '  I  am  come  into  this  world  that 
they  which  see  not  might  see'  (Jn  S**).  This  pre- 
.sentation  of  Jesus  as  Light  appealing  to  the  organ 
of  spiritual  vision  and  vindicating  empirically  His 
unique  Divinity  dominates  the  whole  of  the  Fourth 
Gospel.  But  the  principle  is  as  clearly  enunciated 
in  the  Synoptics.  It  is  the  pure  in  heart  who  see 
God  (Mt  5*),  because  the  pure  heart  is  the  organ 
of  the  God-consciousness.  In  the  great  confession 
of  St.  Peter  the  real  point  of  our  Lord's  com- 
mendation lies  not  in  the  clear  enunciation  of  the 
Messiahship  and  the  Divine  Sonship  of  Jesus,  but 
in  the  manner  in  wliich  the  profoundest  of  all 
spiritual  truths  has  been  reached.  '  Blessed  art 
thou,  Simon  Bar-jona  :  for  llesh  and  blood  hath  not 
revealed  it  unto  thee,  but  my  Father  which  is  in 
heaven '  (Mt  W'). 

Jesus,  the  Light  of  the  world,  can  appeal  only 
to  those  who  have  the  faculty  of  sight.  Where 
the  faculty  of  sight  is  impaired  or  destroyetl,  how- 
ever clearly  the  light  may  shine,  there  is  no  vision. 
This  obscuration  of  the  spiritual  orb  is  what  is 
called  '  judicial  blindness.'  The  phrase  implies  that 
there  never  can  be  such  radical  defect  of  vision 
without  personal  guilt  in  the  person  so  affected. 
It  is  a  penalty  of  sin,  the  judgment  that  comes 
tlirough  neglecting  the  light  (cf.  Jn  9^).  Inasmuch 
as  Jesus  is  the  true  Light  that  lighteth  every  man 
tliat  Cometh  into  the  world,  there  is  in  human 
nature,  as  such,  the  capacity  of  spiritual  vision ; 
but  this  capacity,  either  by  disuse  or  perversity, 
may  be  so  radically  corrupted  as  to  be  impervious 
to  the  light.  And  when  this  is  so,  the  sinner 
rushes  to  tis  doom  heedless  of  the  plainest  warn- 
ings. This  is  a  truth  always  recognized  in  the 
Gospels.  St.  John  in  his  Prolo<'ue  .says  that  the 
Light  shineth  in  darkness,  but  uie  darkness  com- 
prehended it  not  (cf.  Mt6~'-).  It  is  the  meaning 
of  the  blasphemy  against  the  Holy  Ghost,  a  sin 
unforgivable,  inasmuch  as  it  does  not  recognize 
itself  as  sin,  and  thus  renders  impossible  that 
repentance  which  is  the  condition  of  forgiveness 
(but  see  art.  BLASPHEMY).  A.  Millek. 

BLOOD  (c^,  Aram,  kc't,  Gr.  ar/ia).— Underlying 
the  use  of  the  term  '  blood '  in  the  Gospels  is  its 
root  conception,  as  contained  in  the  OT.  This 
root  conception  is  clearly  seen,  c.qr.,  in  Lv  17"-  " 
'The  life  ('soul'  rrj)  of  the  Jicsh  is  in  the  blood 
.  .  .  it  is  the  blood  that  inalieth  atonement  bu 
reason  of  the  life.  .  .  .  For  as  to  the  life  of  all 
flesh,  the  blood  thereof  is  all  one  with  the  life 
thereof  .  .  .  for  the  life  of  all  flesh  is  tlu;  blood 
thereof  The  close  connexion  between  'life' and 
'  blood  '—amounting  even  to  identification  —  was 
doubtless  realized  by  man  from  very  early  times  ; 
for  constant  experience  taught  him  tliat  loss  of 
blood  entailed  weakness,  while  great  loss  resulted 
in  death,  i.e.  the  departure  of  life.  This  would 
have  been  noticed  again  and  again  in  everydav 
life,  whether  in  hunting,  or  in  slaughtering  (botli 
for  food  and  sacrifice),  or  in  battle.*  This  belief 
was  by  no  means  confined   to  the   Hebrews,  but 

*  Cf.   H.  L.  Strack,  Der  BlutaWnjlauie  in  der  Meiuchheit*, 


was  universal  in  ancient  times,  just  as  it  is  now 
among  primitive  races.*  The  reiterated  prohibi- 
i  tion  with  regard  to  the  eating  of  hlood  contained 
I  in  the  Hebrew  Code  was  due,  firstly,  ti>  the  fact 
that  God  had  made  use  of  it  as  a  means  of  atone- 
ment, and  that  tlierefore  it  ought  not  to  be  used 
for  any  other  purpose ;  and,  secondly,  Itecause  it 
was  believed  to  contain  the  soul  or  life.  In  the 
one  case,  the  prohibition  is  due  to  the  holy  char- 
acter of  blood ;  t  in  the  other,  to  its  essential 
nature,^  it  being  the  centre  from  which  animal 
life  in  all  its  various  forms  emanated.  Blood  was 
therefore  holy  from  the  Divine  point  of  view,  be- 
cause God  had  sanctified  it  to  lioly  uses ;  and  it 
was  holy  from  man's  point  of  view,  both  because 
it  had  been  ordained  as  a  means  of  atonement  in 
the  sight  of  God,  and  because  human  life,  of 
wliicli  blooil  was  the  essence,  was  sacred  to  Him. 

In  the  Gospels  one  or  other  of  these  conceptions 
underlies  the  use  of  the  word  'blood.'  Its  use 
may  be  briefly  summarized  tlius  : 

1.  Blood  in  its  material  sense,  e.r/.,  the  woman 
with  the  issue  of  blood  (Mk  p,'Lk  8").  The 
power  which  went  out  from  Christ  stayed  the  flow 
of  the  woman's  blood  ;  it  is  implied  (Jlk  5^  dXXd 
AiaXXov  fi's  rb  xf'po"  eXBovira)  that  this  outflow  was 
the  ebbing-out  of  her  life.  The  ancient  concep- 
tion is,  therefore,  plainly  present  here. 

2.  Blood  used  in  the  sense  of  life  {i.e.  poured  out 
in  death).  It  is  interesting  to  observe  that  in  all 
the  Gospel  passages  in  whicli  blood  is  used  as 
synonymous  with  life,  the  reference  is  either  to 
an  OT  occurrence,  or  else  to  Christ  as  fulfilling  OT 
types.  The  passages  are  the  following :  Jit  SS** 
'We  should  not  have  been  partakers  with  them 
in  the  blood  of  the  prophets';  '23^  'That  upon 
you  may  come  all  the  righteous  blood  shed  on  the 
earth,  from  the  blood  of  Abel  the  righteous  unto 
the  blood  of  Zachariali  son  of  Barachiali,  whom  ye 
slew  between  the  sanctuary  and  the  altar,'  cf.  Lk 
IP';  Mt  21*  'I  have  betrayed  innocent  blood'; 
27«  '  the  price  of  blood ' ;  27"'  the  field  of  blood ' ; 
27*"  '  I  am  innocent  of  the  blood  of  this  righteous 
man';  27"  'His  blood  be  upon  us.'  In  each  of 
these  passages  the  meaning  of  blood  as  implying 
life  is  sufficiently  clear. 

3.  In  Lk  13'  occurs  a  reference  to  '  the  Galilseans 
whose  blood  Pilate  mingled  with  their  sacrifices.' 
There  is  no  reference  to  this  event  either  in  Josephus 
(although  there  is  mention  of  a  similar  occurrence 
in  Ant.  XVII.  ix.  3)  or  elsewhere  ;  but  the  meaning 
appears  to  be  that  they  «ere  oH'eriug  up  their 
usual  sacrifice  in  the  ordinary  course,  when  they 
were  fallen  upon  and  butchered  by  the  Komaii 
soldiery,  probably  as  a  punishment  for  some  act 
of  revolt  [the  restlessness  of  the  Galiheans  was 
notorious,  cf.  Ac  5^]. 

4.  A  further  use  of  the  word  is  seen  in  Mt  16", 
where  the  expression  "flesh  and  blood'  occurs. § 
In  this  passage  the  use  of  ■  blood '  is  somewhat 
modified  from  what  has  been  found  hitherto ;  tlie 
phrase  adpj  xai  alii.a  denotes  what  is  human,  ab- 
stractly considered  ;  '  the  antithesis  is  between 
knowledge  resulting  from  natui-al  human  develop- 

•Eob.  Smith,  Rel.  of  the  Semites^,  \>.  337  fl. ;  Wellhausen, 
Reete  arabischen  Ueid.^  p.  ii2Bfl. :  Strack,  up.  cU.  p.  9  0.; 
J.  G.  Frazcr,  Golden  Bought  i.  353,  where  other  authorities 
are  cited  ;  Bahr,  Symbolik  des  Moaauchtn  Ciiltm-,  i.  44  ff. ; 
Trumbull,  Studies  in  Orietitat  Social  Life,  p.  157  ft. 

t  See,  further,  with  regard  to  this  poiut,  the  many  iuterestiii<; 
details  in  Trumbull's  The  2'hreshold  CovenaiU,  and  Doughty's 
.irabia  Deserta  (2  vols.);  the  references  are  too  numerous  to 
(luote,  but  both  works  vriU  well  repay  careful  study. 

J  Cf.  Strack,  op.  cit.  p.  75  ff. ;  Franz  UeliUtsch,  System  der 
blMischen  Pspcholagie,  pp.  196,  202. 

{The  espressiou  «^i«  x«i  «!;<««  (also  in  the  order  tciutt  ««.' 
«/>!)  is  frequent  in  Rabbinical  writings  (Dni  tip^) ;  '  the  Jewish 
^Titers  use  this  form  of  speech  infinite  times,  and  by  it  oppose 
jnen  to  God'  (Lightfoot,  Uurte  Ueb.  et  Taliii.  (Gandell's  ed]  ii. 
•234) :  see  also  Sir  14i»,  wliere  '  flesh  and  blood '  are  compared  to 


BLOOD 


BLOOD 


iiieiit,  or  on  the  basis  of  natural  birth,  and  know- 
ledge proceeding  from  the  revelation  of  the  Father 
in  heaven,  or  on  the  basis  of  i-egeneration ' 
(Lange).*  The  expression  therefore  emphasizes 
the  contrast  between  human  and  Divine  know- 
ledge (cf.  Gal  l"  '  immediately  I  conferred  not  with 
flesh  and  blood' ;  cf.  also  He  2",  1  Co  15»,  Eph 
6'^).  The  special  meaning  attaching  to  '  blood ' 
here  is  that  it  belongs  to  human  nature ;  and 
significant  in  this  connexion  is  the  passage  Lk  24^" 
a  '  spirit  hatli  not  flesh  and  bones  as  ye  behold  me 
having,'  where  '  flesh  '  is  clearly  intended  to  include 
blood  ;  t  the  primary  diflerence  in  bodily  structure 
between  a  natural  and  a  spiritual  body  being  the 
absence  of  blood  in  the  latter.  If  in  the  ordinary 
human  body  blood  is  conceived  of  as  being  the 
source  of  life,  the  body  without  blood  receives  its 
life  in  a  manner  utterly  ditterent, — it  is  the  life 
which  comes  from  Christ :  '  I  am  come  that  they 
might  have  life,  and  that  they  might  have  it  more 
abundantly '  (Jn  10'").  Closely  connected  with  this 
are  the  words  in  Jn  f  ' .  .  .  which  were  born,  not 
of  blood  t .  .  .  but  of  God  '  ;  here,  too,  the  contrast 
is  between  that  which  is  born  '  of  blood,'  i.e.  accord- 
ing to  a  natural  birth,  and  that  which  is  born  '  of 
God,'  i.e.  according  to  a  spiritual  birth. 

5.  A  very  mysterious  use  of  '  blood '  is  that  con- 
tained in  the  words  '  bloody  sweat'  (Lk  22'''').§  '  It 
is  probable  that  this  strange  disorder  arises  from 
a  violent  commotion  of  the  nervous  system,  and 
forcing  of  the  red  particles  into  the  cutaneous  ex- 
cretories.'ll  'The  intensity  of  the  struggle,'  says 
Godet,  '  becomes  so  great,  that  it  issues  in  a  sort 
of  beginning  of  physical  dissolution.  The  words, 
as  it  were  drops,  express  more  than  a  simple  com- 
parison between  the  density  of  the  sweat  and  that 
of  blood.  The  words  denote  that  the  sweat  itself 
resembled  blood.  Phenomena  of  frequent  occur- 
rence demonstrate  how  immediately  the  blood,  the 
seat  of  life,  is  under  the  empire  of  moral  impres- 
sions. Does  not  a  feeling  of  shame  cause  the 
blood  to  rise  to  the  faceV  Cases  are  known  in 
which  the  blood,  violently  agitated  by  grief,  ends 
by  penetrating  through  the  vessels  wliich  enclose 
it,  and,  driven  outwards,  escapes  with  the  sweat 
through  the  transpiratory  glands  (see  Langen,  ijp. 
212-214).' IT    See  Sweat. 

6.  One  other  passage  nmst  be  referred  to  before 
coming  to  the  spiritual  use  of  '  blood,'  namely,  Jn 
19^  '  and  straightway  there  came  out  blood  and 
water.'  On  the  phenomenon  of  the  ettusion  of 
water  together  with  the  blood,  see  Godet's  Gospel 
of  St.  John,  in.  274  f.  With  regard  to  the  flowing 
of  the  blood,  there  seems  to  be  a  striking  si»niti- 
cance  in  the  fact ;  it  was  a  visible  instance  of  the 
fulfilment  of  Christ's  own  words :  '  Think  not  that 
I  came  to  destroy  the  law  or  the  prophets  ;  I  came 
not  to  destroy,  but  to  fulfil  .  .  .'**  (Mt  5"-");  for 

*  Cormnentanj  on  Matt,  in  loc.  Cf.  the  words  of  Tholuck  :  '  It 
designates  hunianitv  with  reference  to  its  character  as  endowed 
with  the  senses  and  passions'  (Cam.  uri  Matt.);  see  also  OJs- 
hausen,  Com.  o;i  t)ie.  Gospels,  vol.  ii.  (T.  &  T.  Clark). 

t  See,  further,  art.  BoDv. 

(The  use  of  the  plur.  1 
appears,  accordint;  to  We 

elements  out  of  wliic-li  in  various  measures  the  hody  is  framed' 
(Com.  0,1.  St.  John,  hi  loc.  ;  cf.  also  Icjdct  a  Com.  oil  St.  John, 
i;T.  Clark). 

e,  see  Wcstcott-IIort,  and  Godet, 

II  Stroud,  Physical  Caiise  of  the  Death  of  Christ,  pp.  74,  380, 
quoted  in  Trumbull's  The  Blood  Covenant,  p.  279  note  ;  cf.  also 
the  letters  of  Dr.  Begbie  and  Sir  James  Y.  Simpson,  given  in 
Ami.  1.  of  Hanna's  Last  Dan  of  Our  Lord's  Passion. 

11  Cmn.  on  Luke,  ii.  30G  (T.  &  T.  Clark).  There  is  certainly  one 
other  mstance  on  record  of  a  like  mysterious  flow  of  blood,  'that, 
namely,  of  Charles  ix.  of  France,  it  is  said  of  him  that  on  his 
deathbed  his  bitterness  of  sorrow  and  qualms  of  conscience, 
oil  account  of  the  massacre  on  St.  Bartholomew's  Eve,  were 
8o  intense  that  in  the  ans;uish  of  his  soul  he  literally  sweated 


of  sacrifice  under  the  Old 
Dispensation  that  blood  should  flow,*  and  that  it 
should  flow  from  a  vital  part,  usually  from  the 
throat,  thotigh  the  spirit  of  the  Law  would  obvi- 
ously be  fulfilled  when  the  blood  flowed  from  sucli 
a  vital  part  as  the  region  of  the  heart,  the  central 
part  of  man ;  t  the  sacrifice  was  consummated 
when  the  life,  i.e.  the  blood,  had  flowed  out.t 
KalLsch  points  out  that,  guided  by  similar  views, 
the  Teutons  pierced  the  heart  of  the  sacrificial 
victims,  whether  animals  or  men,  becanse  the 
heart  is  the  fountain  of  the  blood,  and  the  blood 
of  the  heart  was  pre-eminently  regarded  as  the 
blooil  of  sacrifice. §    See  also  the  following  article. 

7.  The  passages  which  speak  of  the  blood  of  Christ 
(Mt  26-'»,  Mk  14«  Lk  22™,  Jn  &^-^\  i.e.  of  blood  in 
its  spiritual  meaning,  can  be  here  only  briefly  re- 
ferred to  [see  Atonement,  Last  Supper].  They 
must  be  taken  in  conjunction  with  such  expressions 
elsewhere  as  'the  blood  of  Christ'  (I  Co  lO^",  Eph 
2"),  'the  blood  of  the  Lord'  (1  Co  11-'),  'the  blood 
of  his  cross '  (Col  F"),  '  the  blood  of  Jesus '  (He  10'^ 
1  Jn  1'),  '  the  blood  of  Jesus  Christ'  (1  P  1-),  'the 
blood  of  the  Lamb'  (Rev  12"). 

From  the  earliest  times  among  the  ancient 
Hebrews  the  various  rites  and  ceremonies,  indeed 
the  whole  sacrificial  system,  showed  the  yearning 
desire  for  a  closer  union  with  God  ;  this  union  was 
to  be  ell'ected  only  through  life-containing  and  life- 
giving  blood.  The  very  existence  of  these  sacri- 
fices proved  (and  the  ottering  up  of  their  firstborn 
sons  only  emphasized  the  fact)  that  men  deemed 
the  relationship  between  God  and  themselves  to 
be  unsatisfactory.  Useless  as  these  sacrifices  were 
in  themselves,  they  were  at  any  rate  (when  not 
unauthorized)  shadoivs  of  good  things  to  come  (He 
10'-'') ;  and  they  served  their  purpose  of  witnessing 
to  profound  truths  which  God  intended  to  reveal 
more  fully  as  soon  as  man's  capacity  for  appre- 
hension should  have  become  sutticiently  developed. 
The  shedding  of  Christ's  blood  eflected  a  new  rela- 
tionship between  God  and  man ;  it  sealed  a  Neiu 
Covenant,}}  and  became  the  means  of  the  salvation 
of  many  (Mt  26=8,  Mk  14«,  cf.  Lk  22=»).  But  the 
ancient  conception,  the  God-revealed  truth  only 
dimly  apprehended,  was  right :  the  life  was  in  the 
blood,  inasmuch  as  the  shedding  of  blood  brought 
life— 'I  lay  down  my  life,  that  I  may  take  it  again' 
( Jn  10")— only  it  was  a  life  which  it  was  impossible 
to  conceive  of  before  the  Author  of  it  brought  it  to 
man.  '  Having  in  His  own  blood  the  life  of  God 
and  the  life  of  man,  Jesus  Christ  could  make  men 
sharers  of  the  Divine  by  making  them  sharers  of 
His  own  nature ;  and  this  was  tlie  truth  of  truths 
which  He  declared  to  those  whom  He  instructed.'  H 

Literature. —There  are  many  books  which  give  information 
on  this  subject,  but  as  regards  the  special  relationship  between 
'  blood '  and  Christ  it  is  ditticult  to  point  to  any  particular  work  ; 
many  details  are  to  be  had,  but  they  must  be  gathered  from 
numerous  sources ;  some  of  the  more  important  of  these  are : 
Franz  Delitzsch,  System  der  biblischeii  Psiirholwii,-,  Leipzig, 
1855  ;  P.  Cassel,  Die  Sijmbolik  des  Bliites,  Berlin,  Issii ;  C.  Biihr, 
Sijmbolik  des  Masaischca   Cultus^,   1S7J ;    F.  Godet,  Biblical 


*  This  was  originally  based  on  the  conception  of  blood  being 
the  drink  of  gods  (cf.  Ps  60i3)  ;  see  Rob.  Smith,  op.  cit.  p.  233  ff.; 
Curtiss,  Primitiee  Sem.  Bel.  To-day,  p.  223:  'The  cousununa- 
tion  of  the  sacrifice  is  in  the  outflow  of  blood.' 

t  Cf .  the  words  of  Philo,  de  Concupisc.  x. ;  '  Some  men  pre- 
pare sacrifices  which  ought  never  to  be  offered,  strangling  the 
victim  and  stifling  the  essence  of  life,  which  they  ought  to  let 
depart  free  and  unrestrained '  (quoted  by  Kalisch,  Leoiticus, 
i.  184). 

t  'Under  the  symbolic  sacrifices  of  the  Old  Co\rn:iiit  it  wi^ 
the  6ioorf  which  made  atonement  forthesoul.  II  \^  -  U'  '  ih" 
death  of  the  victim,  nor  yet  its  broken  body:  Iih  k  '  i-  ili. 
blood,  the  life,  the  soul,  that  was  made  thc'incni^  "I  i  ^ni  ^ 
ransom,  of  its  rescue,  of  its  redemption' (Truml  hi  N,  '!'>  ■  /:■:.. i/ 
Covenant,  p.  L'Si;).     '  I'.Iood  atones  by  virtue  of  the  nie  Ui:il  la  jn 


ilied  by  the  shedding  of  blood. 


216 


BLOOD  AND  WATER 


BOAT 


studies  in  the  OT  ayid  XT  (Eng.  tr.  hy  I.yttelton),  London, 
1876;  L.  J.  Riickert,  Das  Abendmahl  .  .  .,  Leipzig',  1856 ;  H.  L. 
Strock,  Der  BhUaberglaube  in  der  fllcn.-icfiheU\  Miincheu, 
1892  (a  work  of  extreme  interest).  A  great  fund  of  information 
is  to  be  foxmd  scattered  in  the  three  books  of  H.  C.  Trumbull, 
The  Blood  Coi'enant,  London,  1SS7,  T/ie  Threshold  Covenant, 
Philadelphia,  1896,  Studies  in  Oriental  Sociid  Life,  London, 
1895;  and  in  C.  M.  Dou^rhti  s  'l'rar.l.<  in  Arabia  Deserta, 
2  vols., Cambridge,  ISSs.  IHlicr  «(.ik^  tluit  should  be  consulted 
are:  J.  Lightfoot,  Hone  Ueh.  et  l\,h„..  4  lols,  (ed.  Gandell), 
Oxford,  1869;  Rob.  Smith,  liel.  vl  the  Semites"-.  London,  1S94, 
Kinship  and  Marriage  (ed.  S.  A,  Cook),  London,  1903 ;  S.  L 
Curtiss,  Primitiee  Semitic  Ecliciion  To-day,  London,  1902. 
Various  notices  will  also  be  found  in  the  Commentaries  of 
Lange,  Tholuck,  Olshausen,  Godet,  and  Westcott.  See  also 
the  art.  on  'Blood'  and  kindred  subjects  in  the  Bible  Diction, 
aries,  such  as  Hamburger,  Riehm,  Hastings,  Cheyne,  and  the 
Jewish  Encyclopedia.  W.  O.  E.  OesTERLEV. 

BLOOD  AND  WATER  (Jn  193i-3')._When  the 
soldier,  whom  tradition  names  Longinus,*  to  make 
sure  that  He  was  really  dead,  drove  his  spear  into 
the  side  of  Jesus  on  the  cross  (see  Crucifixion),  a 
strange  thing  happened.  On  being  withdrawn  the 
spear  was  followed  by  a  gush  of  blood  and  water. 
It  was  a  singular  phenomenon.  The  Fathers  re- 
garded it  as  a  miracle.t  but  St.  John  does  not 
venture  on  an  opinion.  He  neither  attempts  to 
account  for  it  nor  pronounces  it  a  miracle,  but 
contents  himself  with  solemnly  asseverating  that 
he  had  witnessed  it,  and  could  vouch  for  its  actual 
occurrence.  He  felt  the  wonder  of  it  to  the  last 
(cf.  1  Jn  5«-8). 

Medical  science  has  confirmed  his  testimony, 
and  furnished  an  explanation  which  at  once  de- 
fines the  phenomenon  as  a  perfectly  natural  occur- 
rence, and  reveals  somewhat  of  the  awf  ulness  of  our 
Lord's  Passion.  During  His  dread  and  mysterious 
dereliction  on  the  cross  (see  Dereliction)  His  heart 
swelled  until  it  burst,  and  the  blood  was  '  efiused 
into  the  distended  sac  of  tlie  pericardium,  and 
afterwards  separated,  as  is  usual  with  cxtravasatcd 
blood,  into  these  two  parts,  viz.  ( 1 )  crassaraentuui 
or  red  clot,  and  (2)  watery  serum.'  Wlien  the 
distended  sac  was  pierced  from  beneath,  it  dis- 
charged '  its  sanguineous  contents  in  the  form  of 
red  clots  of  blood  and  a  stream  of  watery  serum, 
exactly  corresponding  to  the  description  given  by 
the  sacred  narrative,  "and  forthwith  came  there 
out  blood  and  water."  'J  Jesus  tiled  literally  of  a 
broken  heart — of  '  agony  of  mind,  producing  rup- 
ture of  the  heart.' 

It  was  a  favourite  idea  with  the  Fathers  that  the 
Water  and  the  Blood  were  symbolic  of  the  Sacra- 
ments. St.  Augustine,  following  the  v.l.  -rivot^e  for 
iyv^e  in  v.'",  comments  (in  Joan  Ev.  Tract,  cxx. 
§  2) :  '  Vigilanti  verbo  Evangelista  usus  est,  ut  non 
diceret,  Latus  ejus  percussit,  aut  vulneravit,  aut 
quid  aliud ;  sed,  aperuit :  ut  illis  quodammodo 
vita;  ostium  panderetur,  unde  Sacramenta  Ecclesite 
raanaverunt,  sine  quibus  ad  vitam  qua;  vera  vita 
est,  non  intratur.'  Cf.  Chrysost.  in  Joan.  Ixxxiv  : 
oi>x  aTrXws  ov5i  ujs  ^tvx^v  aCrai  i^rikdov  ai  irriyal,  dW 
eTTiibrj  i^  d^cporipiov  i}  (KKXtjaia  (TVP^ffrrjKe.  Kai  icraaiv 
oi  /xvaTayoiyoii/j.ei'oi.,  Si  iidaro!  ij.ii>  dvayevvuifieuoi  Si' 
atjuaros  5e  Kai  ffapKOS  Tp€<f}6/j.evoi.  dpxvf  Xaju^dcet  ret 
IxvaT-fipia,  iV  OTav  irpoai-tjs  T(J  ippiKT^  iroTTjpiui,  us  clt' 
avTTJ^  trivwv  rrjs  rrXevpds  ol'Tu  Trpoairis. 

Literature.— Besides  the  Comm.  consult  S.  J.  Andrews,  Life 
0/  Our  Lord  upon  the  Earth,  506-569.  DAVID  S.MITU. 

BOANERGES.— In  Mk  3"  we  read  that  Christ 
'gave  to  James  and  John  name(s)  Boanerges,  that 
is,  sons  of  thunder '  (vai  iiridriKff  airrois  foo/io  [v.l. 

•  Ev.  iMcod.  X.  (Lat.)  [xvi.  (Gr.)].  Cf.  'Aug.'  Manual,  xxiii  : 
'  Longinus  aperuit  mihi  latus  Christi  lancea,  et  ego  intravi  et  ibi 
requiesco  securus.'    The  name  is  probably  derived  from  >.c>-x*i, 

t  Orig.  c.  Cell.  ii.  36  :  '  Blood  does  not  flow  from  dead  bodies, 
TeC  Si  Mtri  Ti.  'InrroS.  vixftii  rifutTK  to  T./!iS«5»».'  Cf.  Euth. 
Zigabenus. 

t  Stroud's  Treatise  on  the  Physical  Cause  of  the  Death  of 
"■  1  Append,  to  Hanna's  Last  Day  of  Our 


oKi/iara]  'Roa.iiijpyh,  o  iartv  viol  fipovrJji).*  The  equa- 
tion Boanerges  =  ' sons  of  thunder'  presents  two 
difficulties  :  (a)  the  Hebrew  'j3  does  not  naturally 
give  rise  to  the  two  vowels  oa ;  (6)  no  known 
Hebrew  or  Aram,  root  rgs  or  rqsh  has  the  mean- 
ing '  thunder.'  A  third  difficulty  might  be  added, 
that  the  title  Boanerges,  whatever  its  meaning,  does 
not  accurately  correspond  to  dvoiial^ra),  '  name(s).'  t 
If  the  Evangelist  be  right  in  saying  that  the 
original  title  meant  '  sons  of  thunder,'  we  must 
suppose  that  Boai'77  or  Boavc  is  due  to  inaccurate 
transliteration  of  '33,  or  to  a  conflation  of  two  read- 
ings with  a  single  vowel  (see  Dalm.  Oram.^  p.  144). 
But  tlie  difficulty  as  to  pyes=Ppoi'Tri  remains. 
Jerome  (on  Dn  1')  thought  that  Boanerges  should 
be  emended  into  Be)ieree7n  =  ci;-i  'js.  In  that  case 
the  sis  a,  mistake  on  the  part  of  the  Evangelist  or 
his  copyists  for  m.  Others  prefer  to  think  that  the 
original  title  was  i:-;  '}3  =  '  sons  of  WTath,'  or  i?:"!  '13 
= '  sons  of  tumult,'  and  that  I'ioi  ^povrris  is  an  in- 
accurate translation  on  the  part  of  the  Evangelist. 
The  Syriac  Version  (Sinaiticus)  unfortunately  gives 
us  no  assistance.  It  transliterates  Benai  Bagsh 
or  Eagshi,  and  omits  the  explanation  6  ianv  viol 
PpovTrii  (see  Burkitt,  Evangelion  Da-Mepharreshe, 
i.  181,  ii.  280).  It  is  possible,  however,  that  the 
corruption  lies  deeper  than  this.  Just  as  Dal- 
■manutha  (Mk  8'")  is  probably  a  corruption  of  an 
Aramaic  proper  name  (see  Burkitt,  ii.  249),  so 
Boanerges  may  be  a  fusion  of  two  names  answering 
to  the  ivifuiTa.  In  that  case  the  Evangelist,  mis- 
reading or  mishearing  his  Aramaic  original,  has 
fused  two  names  into  one,  and  has  tried  to  give  a 
rough  translation  of  the  word  thus  formed.  The 
first  name  might  be  '33  (Banni),  '33  (Bannai),  or  '33 
[Bitnnai).  Curiously  enough,  the  Babylonian  Tal- 
mud gives  Bani  as  the  name  of  one  of  the  disciples 
of  Jesus  (Bab.  Sank.  43a).  For  the  second  name 
we  offer  no  conjecture.    See,  further,  John,  James. 

Expositor,  III. 


BOAT.— 

Tie7»» :  AV  '  ship,'  RV  '  boat.'  TXe,i,>,»« :  Mk  39  AV  '  a  small 
ship,'  RV  'a  little  boat'  ;  Jn  ti--  AV  and  RV  'boat,'  RVm  'little 
boat' ;  v.^  injir.traiy  (ii  Tx  -rhoir^yiai  AV  '  took  shipping,'  RV  '  got 
into  the  boate,'  mar';.  '  little  boats' ;  218  ,^  »x»i«/,;iii  AV'in  a 
little  ship,'  RV  'in  the  little  l«at.'  (Lk  S^Tisch.,  WH  ! 
TX»,i,><«  :  WH.TR  tA.?*.    Ju  6^  Tisch.,  TR,KV  : 


VH  marg. 
.,,. :  WH 


The  word  'ship'  is  rightly  expelled  from  the 
Gospels  by  the  Revisers.  It  corresponds  to  vaus, 
which  occurs  nowhere  in  the  Gospels,  and  in  the 
NT  only  in  Ac  27^'.  Being  a  small  lake,  the  Sea 
of  Galilee  had  no  '  ships ' ;  but  it  had  numerous 
'  boats '  mostly  employed  in  fishing  (termed  irXoXa 
in  the  Gospels,'also  [rd]  <rKa<)n\  in  Josephus).  Some 
of  these  were  biggish  craft,  and  usually  swung  at 
anchor  on  the  Lake  (cf.  Jos.  Vit.  33),  being  at- 
tended by  TrXoidpia,  'punts'  (cf.  Jn  2P' *).  In  Ac 
2716.  30. 32  ti,e  small-boat  of  St.  Paul's  ship  is  called 
T]  aKa<j>ri).  To  quell  the  revolt  in  Tiberias,  Josephus 
mustered  all  the  boats  on  the  Lake,  and  they  num- 
bered as  many  as  230  (Jos.  BJ  u.  xxi.  8).  A  boat 
which  could  accommodate  Jesus  and  the  Twelve 
must  have  been  of  considerable  dimensions;  and 
in  the  battle  on  the  Lake,  under  Vespasian,  the 
Romans  fought  on  rafts  and  the  pirates  on  boats. 
Though  small  and  weak  in  comparison  with  the 
rafts,  the  boats  must  have  been  of  considerable 
size  (Jos.  BJ  m.  x.  9). 

Jesus  had  much  to  do  with  boats  during  His 
Galilsean  ministry,  and  one  use  that  He  made  of 
them  is  peculiarly  noteworthy.  In  two  recorded 
instances  He  employed  a  boat  as  His  pulpit  (Lk 
5'-3,  Mt  13'-=  =  Mk  4').     Getting  into  it  to  escape 

♦  The  MSS  give :  ^mvyii-yi;  NAB,  etc.,  ^eaupyy^  D,  iScxnfyi; 


I      t .-.., 


,  is  read  by  nAC,  i 


:  is  the  reading  of  BU. 


BOAZ 


BODY 


217 


the  pressure  of  the  multitude,  He  pushed  out  a 
little  way  from  the  land  and  addressed  the  people 
ranged  along  the  sloping  beach,  as  St.  Chrysostom 
puts  it,  '  hshing  and  netting  those  on  the  land 
(dXtei^off  Kal  aayqvevojv  tous  €v  Tjf  yy).'  Only  two 
instances  of  His  resorting  to  this  device  are  re- 
corded, but  it  seems  to  have  been  His  practice. 
Early  in  His  ministry,  St.  Mark  says  (3"),  'He 
spake  to  his  disciples  that  a  little  boat  should 
wait  on  him  because  of  the  crowd,  lest  they 
should  throng  him ' ;  and  it  is  interesting  to  ob- 
serve how  the  Evangelist  subsequently  alludes  to 
'the  boat'  (Mk  4^"  6^'-.  Cf.  Mt  S-^  tA  TrXoio;-  TR, 
Tisch.  ;  TrXoioi/  WH),  meaning  the  boat  which  had 
been  put  at  His  disposal.  DAVID  SMITH. 

BOAZ.— The  husband  of  Ruth,  named  in  the 
genealogies  of  our  Lord  (Mt  P,  Lk  3=-). 

BODY.— i.  The  Human  Body  generally.— 
'  Body '  in  the  Gospels  invariably  represents  cru^a 
in  the  original.  Always  in  Homer  and  frequently 
in  Attic  Greek  (rdfia-a,  dead  body;  and  in  this 
sense  the  word  is  occasionally  used  in  the  Gospels 
(Mt  27"-'*- '» II  Lk  173').  The  usual  meaning,  how- 
ever, here  as  in  the  rest  of  the  NT  and  in  ordinary 
Greek  usage,  is  the  living  body,  and  in  particular 
the  body  of  a  living  man  (Mt  &"  26'=,  Mk  5-'->).  In 
the  records  of  our  Lord's  life,  teaching,  and  whole 
revelation,  we  find  the  dignity  and  claims  of  the 
body  as  an  integral  part  of  human  nature  con- 
stantly recognized.  This  meets  us  in  the  very  fact 
of  the  Incarnation  (Jn  1"),  in  the  most  solemn 
utterances  of  Jesus  (Mt  25^=-  ''■),  in  His  tender  re- 
gard for  the  bodily  neetls  and  pains  of  those  around 
Him — His  feeding  of  the  hungry  and  healing  of 
the  sick;  but  above  all  in  the  narratives  of  His 
Resurrection  and  Ascension,  which  show  that  the 
Incarnation  was  not  a  temporary  expedient  of  His 
earthly  mission,  but  a  permanent  enfolding  of  our 
human  nature,  body  as  well  as  soul,  within  the 
essential  life  of  the  Godhead. 

The  Gospels  give  no  support  to  the  philosophic 
tendency,  so  often  reflected  in  certain  types  of 
religious  teaching,  to  treat  the  body  with  dis- 
paragement. Jesus  accords  full  rights  to  the  cor- 
poreal side  of  our  being.  He  was  neither  an  ascetic 
nor  a  preacher  of  asceticism — '  the  Son  of  Man 
came  eating  and  drinking'  (Mt  IP^-is).  At  the 
same  time,  we  find  in  His  teaching  a  clear  recog- 
nition of  a  duality  in  human  nature— a  distinction 
drawn  between  body  and  soul,  Hesh  and  spirit  (Mt 
625  og4i)_  Moreover,  He  lays  strong  emphasis  on 
the  antithesis  between  the  body  as  the  lower  part 
of  a  man,  and  the  soul  as  the  higher.  Though  the 
body  is  a  true  part  of  our  humanity,  its  value  is 
not  to  be  compared  for  a  moment  with  that  of  the 
spiritual  part  (Mt  lO-*).  Those  who  follow  Jesus 
must  be  prepared,  if  need  be,  to  surrender  their 
bodies  to  the  sword  and  the  cross  (Mt  23^)  ;  but 
'  What  shall  a  man  give  in  exchange  for  his  soul  ? ' 
(Mt  162«). 

In  the  teaching  of  Jesus  the  doctrine  of  the 
resurrection  of  the  body,  which  had  gradually 
taken  root  in  the  Jewish  mind,  is  everywhere  pre- 
supposed (as  in  His  references  to  the  Future  Judg- 
ment), and  at  times  is  expressly  proclaimed  (Lk 
14"  20»^  Jn  5*-  =»).  And  by  the  grave  of  His  friend 
Lazarus  our  Lord  gave  utterance  to  that  profound 
saymg,  '  I  am  the  resurrection  and  the  life '  (Jn 
II-'),  winch  reveals  the  ultimate  ground  of  Chris- 
tian faith  in  the  resurrection  of  the  body,  and  at 
the  same  time  invites  us  to  find  in  the  nature  of 
the  risen  Christ  Himself  the  type,  as  well  as  the 
pledge  of  that  new  and  higher  corporeal  life  to 
which  He  is  able  to  raise  His  people. 

11.  The  Body  of  Christ.— (1)  Christ's  natural 
body.— Ah  'the  man  Christ  Jesus,'  our  Lord  was 


possessed  of  '  a  true  body  '  as  well  as  of  '  a  reason- 
able soul.'  When  the  time  was  come  in  the  coun- 
sels of  God  for  the  redemption  of  mankind,  the 
Second  Person  of  the  Holy  Trinity  took  upon  Him 
human  flesh  by  the  operation  of  the  Holy  Spirit  in 
the  womb  of  the  Virgin  Mary  (Mt  l'*,  cf.  Gal  4^). 
In  due  time,  according  to  the  laws  of  human  life. 
He  was  born  at  Bethlehem  (Lk  2=- ').     The  child 


thus  born  was 
and  the  wise 


,  His  infancy  by  the  shepherds 


,  and,  when  He  was  eight  days 
old,  by  Simeon  and  Anna  (2^-  ^).  From  His  con- 
ception and  birth  His  body  developed  in  the  man- 
ner usual  to  human  beings.  'The  child  grew,'  we 
are  told  (Lk  2™) ;  arrived  at  'twelve  years  old'; 
and  still  '  increased  in  stature '  (vv.''^.  62)_ 

After  He  had  arrived  at  man's  estate,  we  find 
Him  living  under  the  conditions  to  which  the 
bodies  of  men  in  ordinary  life  are  subject.  We 
learn  that  He  suffered  hunger  (Mt  4=) ;  that  He 
was  wearied  with  journeying  (Jn  4") ;  that  He  ex- 
perienced pain  (Mt  27^*) ;  and  that  He  underwent 
death  (v.*).  In  healing  sickness  He  frequently 
used  common  bodily  action,  and  His  power  of 
motion,  with  one  miraculous  exception  (Mt  14^  ||), 
was  limited  to  that  which  men  in  general  possess. 
After  death,  His  body,  nowise  different  from  that 
of  an  ordinary  man,  was  delivered  by  Pilate  to 
Joseph  of  Arimathaja,  who  wrapped  it  in  a  clean 
linen  cloth  and  laid  it  in  his  own  new  tomb  (Mt 
27""- )>  where  it  rested  till  the  moment  of  the 
Resurrection.  Down  to  that  moment,  then,  the 
Lord's  body  had  been  a  human  body  with  the 
powers,  qualities,  and  capacities  of  the  body  of  an 


ordinary  man. 

Jhrist's 
the  same  body  as  before  His  death.     The  grave 


(2)  Christ's  body  after  the  Resiirrectit 


-Iti 


was  left  empty,  because  the  very  body  which 
Joseph  of  Arimatheea  laid  there  had  risen  and 
departed.  Moreover,  it  had.  in  most  respects 
the  same  appearance.  His  disciples  might  doubt 
and  hesitate  at  first  (Lk  24'"- »',  Jn  20"),  but  they 
did  not  fail  to  recognize  Him  (Lk  24^i-  '>-,  Jn 
2016. 20. 28  21'.  12,  Ac  P  232).  We  find  Him  eating 
and  drinking  as  a  man  (Lk  24'''-'),  making  use  of  the 
natural  process  of  breathing  (Jn  20-=),  declaring  to 
His  disciples  that  He  had  flesh  and  bones  (Lk 
24^5),  showing  them  His  hands  and  His  feet  (v.*"), 
and  giving  them  the  assurance  that  His  body  was 
the  identical  body  which  they  had  seen  stretched 
upon  the  cross,  by  inviting  the  disciple  who 
doubted,  to  put  his  finger  into  the  print  of  the 
nails  and  thrust  his  hand  into  the  wound  in  His 
side  ( Jn  20^'). 

On  the  other  hand,  our  Lord's  resurrection  body 
was  freed  from  previous  material  conditions  and 
possessed  of  altogether  new  capacities.  It  seems 
to  be  implied  that  it  could  pass  at  will  tluougli 
material  objects  (Jn  20=") ;  and  it  does  not  appear 
to  have  been  subject  as  before  to  the  laws  of 
movement  (Lk  24^"),  or  visibility  (v.''),  or  gravita- 
tion (Mk  le'",  Lk  24=').  These  new  powers  consti- 
tuted the  difference  between  His  pre-resurrection 
and  His  glorified  body.  It  was  in  His  glorified 
body,  thus  diflerentiated,  that  He  ascended  into 
heaven  ;  and  in  that  same  glorified  body  He  is  to 
be  expected  at  His  final  coming  (Ac  V-  "). 

There  is  little  ground  for  the  idea  of  Olshausen 
(Gospels  and  Acts,\\.  259-260)  and  others,  reviveii 
by  Dr.  Newman  Smyth  (Old  Faiths  in  New  Light, 
en.  viii.),  that  tlie  transformation  of  Christ's  body 
from  the  natural  to  the  glorilicd  (•(■ndiiii'ii  was  a 

Srocess  which  went  on  gradually  diii  inj  i  he  I'orty 
•ays,  and  was  not  complete.  1  iill  ihr  A-nnsion. 
Rather,  it  must  be  said  that  un  tin-  wry  day  of 
His  Resurrection  the  spirituality  of  His  risen  body 
was  as  clearly  shown  as  in  the  case  of  that  much 
later  manifestation  by  tlie  Sea  of  Tiberias  (cf.  Lk 
2131. 3ii^  Jn  21"-).     We  are  not  to  think  of  the  body 


BOOK 


of  Jesus  during  tliis  period  as  in  a  transition  state 
with  regard  to  its  suDstance — partly  of  earth  and 
partly  of  heaven.  It  was  with  a  spiritual  body 
that  He  rose,  that  glorified  body  of  which  His 
Transfiguration  had  been  both  a  prophecy  and  a 
foretaste ;  and  if  we  see  Him  moving  for  a  time 
along  the  borders  of  two  worlds,  that  was  because, 
for  the  sake  of  His  disciples  and  the  future  Church, 
He  made  use  of  the  natural  in  order  to  the  revela- 
tion of  the  spiritual.  It  is  in  this  way  that  we 
must  explain  His  asking  and  receiving  food  (Lk 
24^'"'-,  Ac  10^').  He  cannot  have  depended  upon 
this  food  for  His  bodily  support.  His  purpose  in 
taking  it  was  to  convince  His  disciples  that  He 
was  still  a  living  man,  in  body  as  well  as  in  spirit, 
— that  same  Jesus  who  had  so  often  in  past  days 
partaken  with  them  of  their  simple  meals. 

In  respect  of  His  body  the  risen  Jesus  now  be- 
longed to  the  mysterious  regions  of  the  invisible 
world,  and  it  was  only  when  He  chose  to  reveal 
Himself  that  His  disciples  were  aware  of  His  pres- 
ence. It  is  to  be  noticed  that  St.  John  describes 
His  appearances  as  '  manifestations ' :  He  '  mani- 
fested Himself,'  'was  manifested,' to  the  disciples 
(Jn  21'-  '■*).  His  resurrection  body  was  a  spiritual 
body,  but  it  had  the  power  of  materializing  itself 
to  the  natural  senses,  and  Jesus  made  use  of  this 
power  from  time  to  time  in  order  to  convince  His 
disciples,  by  the  actual  evitlence  of  siglit  and 
sound  and  touch,  that  the  victory  of  His  whole 
human  personality  over  death  and  tlie  grave  was 
real  and  complete.  And  when  this  work  «as 
accomplished.  He  parted  from  them  for  the  last 
time,  and  went  up  to  the  right  hand  of  the  Father 
in  a  kind  of  royal  state  which  not  only  proclaimed 
His  own  lordsnip  over  both  worlds,  but  became  a 
prophecy  of  the  truth  regarding  the  divinely  ap- 
pointed destiny  of  those  whom  He  is  not  ashamed 
to  call  His  brethren.  In  the  body  of  Christ's  glory 
both  St.  Paid  and  St.  John  liud  the  type  after 
Avhich  the  believer's  body  of  Imniiliiition  is  to  be 
fashioned  at  last  (Ph  3-',  1  Jn  3-).  We  are  to  be 
like  our  Lord  in  the  possession  of  a  liuiuan  nature 
in  which  the  corporeal  has  been  so  fully  inter- 
penetrated by  the  spiritual  that  the  natural  body 
has  been  transformed  into  a  spiritual  body  (1  Co 
15«-**). 

There  is  no  ground  to  sujjpose  that  our  Lord's 
entrance  upon  tlie  state  of  exaltation  implies  any 
further  change  in  His  bodily  nature.  Certainly 
no  new  quality  could  be  developed  ^vllif■h  would  be 
inconsistent  with  the  essential  cliaiaitrii-tics  of 
a  body.  One  of  these  characteri^iiis  is  the  im- 
jMJSsib'ility  of  being  in  two  pkucs  at  the  same 
moment.  As  long  as  He  was  on  earth  His  body 
could  not  be  in  heaven,  though  He  was  there  by 
His  Spirit ;  and  as  long  as  He  is  in  heaven  His 
body  cannot  be  on  earth,  although  He  is  present 
by  His  Spirit,  according  to  His  promise  to  be  with 
His  followers  where  they  are  gathered  together  in 
His  name  (Mt  18™,  cf.  28'").  St.  Peter  preached 
that  the  heavens  must  receive  Him  until  the  times 
of  restoration  of  all  things  (Ac  3-') ;  and  Christ 
Himself  taught  the  Apostles  that  it  was  expedient 
for  thera  that  in  bodily  form  He  should  leave  them, 
so  that  the  Comforter  might  take  His  place  in  the 
midst  of  the  Church  (Jn  16'). 

(3)  Christ's  mystical  bodi/.—ln  1  Co  12'="f-  (cf.  Ro 
12*)  St.  Paul  uses  the  figure  of  a  body  and  its  mem- 
bei-s  to  describe  the  relations  of  Christian  people 
to  Christ  and  to  one  another,  and  then  in  v.-'  he 
definitely  applies  the  expression  '  a  body  of  Christ ' 
(trw/to  XpiffToC)  to  the  Corinthian  Church.  With 
reference  to  the  body  politic  the  figure  was  a 
familiar  one  in  both  Greek  and  Latin  literature, 
and  the  Apostle  transfers  it  to  the  Church  for  the 
purpose  of^emphasizing  his  exhortiitions  to  Church 
unity  and  a  sense  of  mutual  dependence  among  the 


people  of  Christ.  As  yet,  however,  the  figure  is 
quite  plastic,  while  the  anarthrous  auiia  suggests 
that  it  is  the  local  Church  which  is  immediately  in 
view.  Here,  accordingly,  we  have  in  their  first 
draft  the  Apostle's  grand  conceptions  on  the  sub- 
ject of  the  Lord's  mystical  body.  When  we  come 
to  Ephesians  ( l^s- si  412)  ^nd  Colossians  (1"-=*)  we 
find  that  his  ideas  have  been  elaborated,  and  that 
'tlie  body  of  Christ'  (t6  o-wMa  toO  Xpio-roO)  has 
become  a  fixed  title  of  the  Church  not  as  local 
merely,  but  as  universal,  nor  simjily  as  empiric, 
but  as  an  ideal  magnitude.  We  notice  this  further 
distinction,  that  in  the  earlier  Epistles  Christ  is 
conceived  of  as  the  whole  body,  of  which  indi- 
vidual Christians  are  the  particular  members; 
while  in  Ephesians  and  Colossians  He  becomes  the 
head  of  the  Church  which  is  His  body  (Eph  a^-  «, 
Col  2")— the  vital  and  organic  centre  of  the  whole. 
The  idea  of  this  strikin"  figure  is  similar  to  that 
presented  by  our  Lord  Himself  in  the  allegory  of 
the  Vine  and  the  Branches  (Jn  15^'*).  The  lesson 
of  the  figure,  as  of  the  allegory,  is  not  only  that  in 
Christ  all  believers  are  bound  together  into  the 
unity  of  the  Church,  but  that  the  spiritual  vitality, 
indeed  the  very  existence,  of  individual  Christians 
and  Christian  communities  depends  upon  the  close- 
ness of  their  relations  with  Jesus  Christ  who  is 
their  head. 

(4)  C/d-ist's  symbolic  body.— On  the  night  in 
which  He  was  betrayed,  Jesus,  in  instituting  the 
sacrament  of  tlie  Supper,  said  of  the  bread  which 
He  took  and  broke  and  gave  to  His  disciples,  '  This 
is  my  body '  (rovrb  4<rn  t4  ffufnd  ynou :  Mt  26^,  Mk 
14--,  Lk  22",  1  Co  n^).  Similarly  St.  Paul,  writing 
to  the  Corinthians,  says  of  the  bread  which  is 
broken  at  the  Supper,  '  Is  it  not  the  communion 
of  the  body  of  Christ?'  (1  Co  10''^)  ;  while  in  the 
same  Epistle  he  describes  the  person  who  eats  the 
sacramental  bread  unworthily  as  'guilty  of  the 
body  of  the  Lord'  (11-'),  and  says  that  a  man  eats 
and  drinks  judgment  unto  himself  '  if  he  discern 
not  the  l)udy  '(11'^).  Opinions  have  differed  gi-eatly 
in  the  Church  as  to  tlie  full  significance  of  this 
language,  whether  on  the  lijis  of  Jesus  or  of  St. 
Paul.  But  whatever  its  further  meanings  may 
be,  there  can  he  little  doubt  that  primarily  the 
broken  bread  of  the  Supper  is  a  symbol  of  the 
crucilied  body  of  Christ.  With  this  "symbolic  use 
of  the  word  '  body '  many  have  sought  to  identify 
the  words  of  the  Lord  in  the  Fourtli  Gospel  about 
'eating  the  flesh'  of  the  Son  of  Man  (Jn  G""*'). 
But  as  the  word  o-ci/na  denotes  the  body  as  an 
organism,  while  '  flesh '  Wdp^)  applies  only  to  the 
substance  of  the  body,  and  as  ffdpf  is  never  em- 
ployed elsewhcic  in  tin'  NT  to  describe  the  sacra- 
mental bread,  it  is  unlikely  either  that  Jesus  would 
use  crdpf  with  this  inteiiliun,  or  that  the  author  of 
the  Gospel  would  have  tailed  to  use  (ru/to,  the 
ordinary  sacramental  term,  if  it  had  been  his 
intention  to  represent  our  Lord  as  furnishing  in 
the  CaiJernaum  discourse  a  prophetic  announce- 
ment of  tlie  institution  of  the  Supper.  See  art. 
Luia.'s  M  iri.K. 

I.ii'      !  r         Jlinyer,  Lexicon,  t.v.  \  Cremer,  Biblieo- 

Tht'r  ;  taidlaw,  Bible  Voctritu;  0/ Ma7i,8.v.; 

Salninni.'  '.,■  ■  .(  ,  ;- „;,uieo//m?Kor(oK(j/,s.ii.;'Resurr«:tion'; 
Ijin^'e,  Lit,-  uf  Christ,  vol.  v.  p.  12Bfl. :  Forrest,  Christ  0/  Hit- 
lury,  pp.  ioO  ff.,  411  ff. ;  Ezpotitor's  Greek  Testament,  paafim  ; 
arts.  'Resurrection '  and  'Ascension  *  in  Hostinj^s'  DB. 

F.  Meyrick  and  J.  C.  Lambert. 
BOOK, —  The  word  'book,'  representing  two 
Greek  words,  /3//3Xos  and  /Si/SXi'ox  (with  dim.  jit^Xapt- 
Stov,  Rev  lO-'  "'■),  is  of  fairly  frequent  occurrence 
in  the  NT,  although  it  is  found  only  nine  times 
in  the  Gospels.  Very  probably  a  book  in  the  form 
familiar  to  us  did  not  exist  in  NT  times.  The 
liook  of  Scripture  was  a  roll,  as  we  may  gather 
from  such  a  text  as  Rev  5',  '  A  booK  written 
within  and  on  the  back,  sealed  with  .seven  seals.' 


BORDER 


BOSOM 


219 


The  Scriptures  used  in  tlie  svn 
fall  of  Jerusalem  were  iirobably 


ynagogues  up  to  the 
ly  leather  rolls,  or  at 
least  rolls  of  skins  tanned  in  some  way ;  but 
papyrus  rolls  were  in  very  general  use.  Parch- 
ment was  in  use  also,  as  we  see  from  2  Ti  4",  but 
probably  also  in  the  roll  and  not  the  codex  form. 
The  distinction  between  the  books  (tA  /Si^Xta)  and 
the  parchments  (rds  tif/jL^pdi/as)  in  the  passage  just 
referred  to  was,  in  all  probability,  simply  one 
relating  to  the  material  used  and  not  to  the  form 
of  the  manuscript,  althougli  it  is  not  absolutely 
certain  at  what  date  parchments  began  to  be 
folded  instead  of  rolled. 

The  word  '  book'  i.s  not  always  used  in  a  strictly 
technical  sense.  In  Mt  1'  '  The  book  of  the  genera- 
tion of  Je.sus  Christ '  means  simply  the  record  of,  or 
writing  about,  the  genealogy  of  Jesus.  There  is 
no  reason  to  think  that  St.  Matthew  meant  it  to 
be  understood  that  the  genealogy  formed  a  little 
roll  by  itself.  Again  in  such  expressions  as  '  the 
book  of  life '  (altliough  that  expression  does  not 
occur  in  the  Gospels),  it  is  evident  that  the  writer 
is  speaking  figuratively.  Our  Lord  said  to  His 
Apostles  (Lk  10™),  '  Rejoice  because  your  names 
are  written  in  heaven ' ;  and  in  the  OT  (Ex  32^-) 
there  is  express  mention  of  a  book  which  God  had 
written  :  'If  not,  blot  me,  I  pray  thee,  out  of  thy 
book  which  thou  hast  written.'  The  connexion  of 
the  expression  'book  of  life'  with  the  words  of 
our  Lord  to  His  Apostles,  and  with  the  daring  yet 
splendid  utterance  of  Moses,  is  obvious  enough. 
To  say  that  names  are  in  '  the  book  of  life '  and 
'  the  Lamb's  book  of  life,'  is  to  say  that  those  bear- 
ing these  names  are  accepted  and  accounted  as 
members  of  the  heavenly  kingdom  here  and  here- 
after. 

The  word  '  book '  is  used  in  its  technical  sense  of 
an  actual  roll  or  volume  in  Mk  12-«,  Lk  3^  4"- "« 
20''2,  and  Jn  20*.  It  is  noteworthy  that  in  Mk  1226 
the  writings  of  Moses  are  called  not  '  the  books,' 
but  simply  '  the  book.' 

The  books  mentioned  in  Ac  19"  as  having  been 
brought  by  their  possessors  and  burned,  were 
probably,  many  of  them  at  least,  simply  amulets, 
spells,  grammata  Ephesia,  little  strips  of  parch- 
ment with  words  professedly  of  magical  value 
written  on  them. 

Literature.— Coram,  on  the  NT ;  art.  '  Writinij'  in  Hastings' 
DB  and  in  the  Enoyo.  Biblica ;  Scliurer,  HJp,  Index,  s.m. 
'  Books,"  '  Scriptures ' ;  Sanday,  Inspiratim,  157,  297  ;  Kenyon, 
Handbook  to  TexlvM  Criticism  of  NT,  ch.  ii. 

Geo.  C.  Watt. 

BORDER  (Gr.  KpdaweSoi'  for  Heb.  n's-s).— This 
word  plays  a  signihcant  part  in  the  Gospels  (Mt 
yaj  1436  235,  Mk  e"*,  Lk  8").  When  Jesus  was  on 
His  way  to  heal  Jairus'  little  daughter,  a  certain 
woman  who  had  an  issue  of  blood  twelve  years 
came  behind  Him  and  touched  the  '  border '  ('  hem ') 
of  His  garment  (t-oO  KpaaiviSov  toC  Ifiarlov)  and  was 
healed  (Mt  9-"-",  Lk  8",  Mk  V,^).  In  Mt  143»  we 
read  of  many  sick  ones  who  sought  liealing  in  the 
same  way.  Again,  in  that  reiii;irkable  denuncia- 
tion of  the  scribes  and  Pharisees  which  constitutes 
the  climax  of  one  of  uur  Lord's  most  striking 
discourses.  He  makes  this  charge  among  otliers  : 
'All  their  works  they  do  to  be  seen  of  men  :  they 
make  broad  their  phylac-tiTies,  and  they  enlarge 
the  borders  of  thetr  ;f„'niir„/.s '  (Mt  23^). 

What  is  this  '  liorder  of  (lie  garment '  that  plays 
such  a  role?  Clearly  in  our  Lord's  time  the  Jews 
had  come  to  attach  great  importance  to  it.  To 
them  it  was  the  chief  of  three  'sensible  signs,' 
or  material  reminders,  of  their  obligations  under 
the  Law,  the  other  two  being  the  Phylacteries 
(tephiUin)  and  mi'zilzuth,  oblong  boxes  fixed  above 
the  door-posts,  on  which  Dt  6*-"  and  llia-21  were 
written,  accordinn  to  the  directions  there  given. 
The    Law   lir.st  required   (iJt  22'-)   that   'twisted 


cords'  (Heb. ,7w/A?fiMi, incorrectly  ren<lered 'fringes' 
by  AV  and  RV)  be  formed  upon  the  four  corners 
('four  borders,'  RV)  of  the  mantle  or  'outer  gar- 
ment.' This  thing  termed  jrerf/»7«)i  acquired  later 
the  special  name  zizith, — it  is  so  rendered  by  the 
Targum  in  Dt  22'".  The  same  law  is  found  in 
the  Priestly  Code  in  expanded  form :  '  And  the 
Lord  spake  unto  Moses  saying.  Speak  unto  the 
children  of  Israel,  and  bid  them  that  they  make 
them  fringes  (zhith,  KpasTveSa)  in  the  borders'  (more 
correctly  '  tas.sels  in  the  corners,'  RVm)  'of 
their  garments  throughout  their  generations,  and 
that  tliey  put  upon  the  fringe  of  each  border  (i.e. 
'the  tassel  of  each  corner')  a  cord  of  blue'  (Nu 

15^7.  38)_ 

The  'twisted  cords'  of  Dt  22'=  were  clearly 
intended  to  be  fastened  to  the  four  corners  of 
the  outer  garment  (usually  called  simldh).  The 
Priestly  Code,  however,  further  called  for  a  '  tassel ' 
to  be  attached  to  each  corner  by  a  cord  of  blue. 
Now,  it  is  to  these  'tassels'  that  the  Gr.  trans- 
lators give  the  name  KpiaireSa — the  term  exclusively 
used  in  the  NT.  The  simlCth  was  worn  like  the 
Gr.  liia.Ti.ov  (the  NT  equivalent),  the  loose  end 
being  thrown  over  the  left  shoukler.  The  '  tassel ' 
attached  to  this  corner,  then,  could  be  reached 
with  ease  from  behind,  as  in  the  case  of  the  woman 
with  the  issue  of  blood  (Mt  9'-"). 

Some  think  that  behind  this  law  v/as  an  ancient 
Semitic  custom  with  superstitious  and  magical 
associations,  which,  however,  was  impressed  with 
a  new  signilicance  by  the  Hebrew  legislation.  At 
any  rate,  we  see  here,  as  elsewhere,  that  in  NT 
times  a  special  virtue  was  still  thought  to  be 
attached  to  the  '  tassels  on  the  four  corners '  (cf . 
Mt  14*,  Mk  6="  with  Lk  4'  and  1  K  P»). 

In  the  Mosaic  Law  they  were  evidently  intended 
to  be,  as  to  the  more  spiritually  minded  doubtless 
they  were,  simply  reminders  of  the  obligations 
resting  upon  Jehovah's  people  to  walk  in  this  law 
and  to  keep  all  His  commandments  (Nu  15^'-  ■"'). 
The  ostentatious  Pharisees,  however,  went  beyond 
others  in  their  use  of  these  signs,  by  making  them 
large  and  conspicuous. 

Jewish  hearers  and  readers  would  at  once  under- 
stand what  Jesus  meant  by  this  charge  against  the 
scribes  and  I  Pharisees,  'who  sit  in  Moses'  seat.' 
Making  their  phylacteries  unusually  broad  and 
enlarging  the  borders  (' tassels')  of  their  garments 
would  both  be  understood  as  their  way  of  calling 
every  casual  observer  to  witness  that  they  were 
remarkably  pious.  It  was  this  of^lontalious  display 
of  an  empty,  outwanl  pii-ty  « liidi  .Icsu^  Ihtb  and 
elsewhere  denounces,  ami  uliiih  lias  i^hrii  such  a 
sinister  and  forbidding  siguilicaucc  to  '  Pharisaism' 
the  world  over. 

Literature.— Schiir 
Did  Times,  i.  624 ft.;  : 
pctdia '',  art.  '  Fringes.' 


Geo.  B.  Eagek. 


BORROWING.-See  Loans. 

BOSOM  occurs  5  times  in  EV  of  the  Gospels 
(Lk  &^  l&-"-\  Jn  1"*  13-^),  representing  in  each 
case  the  Gr.  kAXttos,  tlie  word  which  in  LXX  regu- 
larly corresponds  to  p'n  of  the  Heb.  text  and  '  bosom ' 
of  the  EV.  K6X7ros  is  found  only  once  more  in 
NT,  viz.,  in  Ac  27'",  where  it  has  the  secondary 
sense  of  a  bay  or  bight  (a  bosom-like  hollow) ;  ct. 
Eng.  '  gulf,'  which  comes  from  this  root. 

In  classical  Greek,  in  the  LXX,  and  in  the  NT 
/(6Xiros,  like  Lat.  sinus  (which  Vulg.  gives  in  all  the 
above  passages),  is  used  in  the  two  principal  senses 
of  (rt)  the  human  bosom,  the  front  of  the  body 
between  the  arms ;  (b)  the  bosom  of  the  garment, 
i.e.  the  hollow  formed  in  front  when  the  upper 
garment  was  bound  round  the  waist  with  the  girdle. 
In  EV  of  the  OT   'bosom'  is  to  be   understood. 


220 


BOSOM 


BOTTLE 


according  to  the  context,  in  one  or  other  of  these 
two  senses.  E.g.  in  expressions  like  '  the  ^vife  of 
tliy  bosom '  (Dt  13^),  '  Naomi  took  the  child  and 
laid  it  in  her  bosom'  (Ru  4'"),  the  first  sense  is 
evidently  the  proper  one.  On  the  other  hand, 
when  we  read  of  putting  one's  hand  into  one's 
bosom  (Ex  4''-'),  takin"  fire  into  the  bosom  (Pr6^), 
receiving  a  gift  in  the  bosom  (21"),  it  is  the  bosom 
of  the  garment  of  which  we  are  to  think.  See  art. 
Dress. 

1.  In  Lk  6'''*,  Avhere  our  Lord  says  to  ^^■illing  givers, 
'Good  measure,  pressed  do-v\Ti,  shaken  together, 
running  over  .  .  .  shall  they  give  into  your  bosom,' 
it  is  clear  that  the  word  has  tiie  sense  of  (6).  The 
overhanging  front  of  the  upper  garment  when  con- 
fined -by  the  girdle  was  used  as  a  convenient  re- 
ceptacle, serving  the  purposes  of  the  modern  pocket. 
An  adequate  paraphrase  would  thus  be,  'Your 
pockets  shall  be  filled  to  overflowing.'  In  the  re- 
maining passages  two  distinct  questions  emerge. 
First,  tlie  more  important  one  as  to  the  general 
meaning  in  each  case  of  the  expression  'in  the 
bosom '  or  '  on  the  bosom.'  Next,  in  those  cases  in 
which  the  plirase  is  taken  to  refer  to  the  i>osition 
at  table  of  one  guest  in  relation  to  another,  as  to 
whether  the  '  bosom '  is  the  bosom  projier  or  the 
bosom  of  the  garment. 

2.  To  be^in  with  the  simplest  passage,  the  general 
meaning  of  Jn  13^,  in  the  Mght  of  the  table  customs 
of  the  period,  is  perfectly  plain.  In  the  time  of 
Cluist  it  was  customary  at  a  set  feast  to  recline  on 
a  divan  or  oouch,  Avith  the  feet  stretched  out 
behind,  the  left  arm  supported  on  a  cushion,  and 
the  right  hand  free  for  eatmg.  Moreover,  the  usual 
plan  was  that  the  guests  reclined  not  at  right 
angles  to  the  table,  but  obliquely,  this  being  mani- 
festly much  the  more  convenient  way  of  reaching 
the  viands  (cf.  Lightfoot,  Hor.  Heb.  et  Talm.,  ad 
loc.).  By  this  aiTangement  a  second  guest  to  the 
right  hand  lay  Arith  his  head  towards  the  bosom  of 
the  first,  and  so  on.  But  what  precisely  is  meant 
by  '  bosom '  in  this  connexion  ?  Whether  is  the 
word  used  in  the  sense  of  (a)  or  of  (b)  as  described 
above  ?  Probably  in  the  latter,  the  meaning  being 
that  the  head  ot  the  second  reached  '  to  the  siniis 
of  the  girdle'  of  the  first  (see  Meyer,  Com.  in  loc.). 
It  could  not  well  have  reached  to  the  other's  bosom 
in  the  strict  sense  of  the  word,  for  this  would  have 
interfered  with  his  freedom  and  comfort  in  eating 
and  drinking.  This  view  is  confirmed  by  tlie  fact 
that  when  the  Evangelist  de.scribes  St.  John  as 
leaning  back  (avaneailiv)  on  Jesus'  breast  to  ask 
Him  a  question,  a  dift'erent  word  (trr^Soj)  is  em- 
ployed (v.^,  cf.  21-'",  and  see  RV  in  both  cases). 
See  art.  GUEST-CHAMBER. 

3.  The  expression  'Abraham's  bosom '  (Lk  16"  ^) 
has  already  been  dealt  with  in  its  general  eschato- 
logical  signification  (see  art  AbraH-\M).  A  ques- 
tion remains,  however,  as  to  the  precise  form  of 
the  figure  which  the  words  are  meant  to  suggest 
(note  that  the  plur.  in  v.'''  has  no  separate  conno- 
tation from  the  sing,  in  v.-.  Cf.  Homer,  II.  ix. 
570,  and  see  AViner-Moulton,  Gram,  of  NT  Gr. 
219  f.).  Is  Abralium  to  be  thought  of,  fatherlike, 
as  enfolding  Lazarus  in  his  arms  (cf.  'Father 
Abraham,'  vv.-^- -"'•*),  or  rather  as  receiving  him 
into  the  place  of  the  honoured  guest,  the  place 
nearest  to  himself  at  a  heavenly  banquet?  'Into 
Abraham's  bosom'  (eh  rbv  kUKtov  'A.,  v.--)  might 
suggest  the  former,  but  'in  his  bosom'  (iv  tois 
Kl>\irois  avTov,  v.^)  may  very  well  be  used  «-ith 
reference  to  the  idea  of  a  feast,  after  the  analogy 
of  Jn  13^  (k6\to%  is  used  in  the  plural  form  both  of 
the  human  bosom  and  of  the  folds  of  the  upper 
garment.  See  Liddell  and  Scott  and  Grinim-Thayer, 
S.V.).  And  this  seems  to  be  confirmed  by  tliat 
other  passage  (Mt  8",  cf.  Lk  \Z^-  -^)  in  whicli  Jesus 
says,   'Many  sliall  come  from  the  east  and   the 


west,  and  shall  sit  down  (RVm  '  recline,'  Gr.  dxa- 
K\WriiTovTai ;  cf.  aiieKXWr)  in  TK  leading  of  Lk  7'^ 
wliicli  AV  renders  'sat  down  to  meat')  ^Wth 
Abraham  and  Isaac  and  Jacob  in  the  kingdom  of 
heaven.'  Alike  for  the  social  outcast  (Lazarus)  and 
for  the  religious  outcasts  (the  Gentiles),  Je.sus  holds 
out  as  a  joyful  prospect  the  thought  of  sitting 
down  with  Abraham  at  a  heavenly  banqueting- 
table.  The  conception  of  Paradise,  moreover, 
under  the  figui-e  of  a  feast,  is  specially  appropriate, 
because  of  tlie  contrast  it  presents  to  the  eartlily 
condition  of  Lazarus  as  a  starving  beggar  (v.-'), 
just  as  it  is  in  keeping  mth  the  great  reversal  in 
the  positions  of  the  two  men  that  Dives,  who  on 
earth  had  'fared  sumptuously  every  day'  (v.''), 
should  now  lack  even  a  (bop  of  water  to  cool  Ms 
burning  tongue  (v.^). 

i.  The  only  passage  that  remains  is  Jn  1",  where 
Jesus  Christ  is  described  as  'the  only-begotten 
Son,  which  is  in  the  bosom  of  the  Fatlier.'  In  this 
case  the  image  of  neighbours  at  a  feast  seems  quite 
inappropriate,  though  some  have  suggested  it ;  and 
it  Ls  in  evei-y  way  more  suitable,  in  view  of  the 
whole  pui-pose  of  the  Prologue  no  less  than  the 
language  of  the  immediate  context,  to  take  'in 
the  bosom  of  the  Father '  in  that  closer  and  more 
tender  meaning  in  which  in  the  OT  the  expression 
is  used  to  describe,  whether  literally  or  figuratively, 
the  relation  of  a  wife  to  her  husband  (Dt  13"),  or 
of  a  chUd  to  his  father  (Nu  11'-)  or  mother  (1  K 
17'").  This  beautiful  term  of  human  ali'ection  is 
employed  here  to  denote  the  intimate  fellowship  of 
perfect  love  wliich  exists  between  God  and  His  Son. 
Some  difficulty  is  occtisioned  by  the  fact  that  the 
phrase  in  the  original  is  eis  rbv  KbXirov,  literally, 
'  into  the  bosom.'  Meyer  insists  on  giving  to  ds 
its  ordinary  meaning  of '  direction  towards,  and  so 
recognizes  as  the  prominent  element  in  the  expres- 
sion the  idea  of  having  arrived  at.  He  admits  that 
'  so  far  as  the  thing  itself  is  concerned,'  the  «'s  rbv 
kAXttov  of  v. '8  does  not  difl'er  from  the  vpbi  rbv 
Bebv  of  v.i,  but  maintains  that  in  v.'*,  at  all  events, 
the  Evangelist  desii-es  to  express  the  fullest  fellow- 
ship with  God,  not  before  the  Incarnation,  but 
after  the  Ascension  Lato  glory.  In  this  case,  how- 
ever, the  description  of  Jesus  Christ  as  els  rbv 
Kb\irov  of  the  Father  would  be  inappropriate,  for 
the  Evangelist  is  in  the  act  of  explainmg  how  it 
is  that  the  Only-Begotten  Son  was  made  to '  declare ' 
the  Father  while  on  earth  (note  the  aorist  i^qyiiaaTo). 
It  seems  proper,  therefore,  to  tjike  ui'  as  a  timeless 
present,  and  to  understand  the  author  to  mean 
that  Jesus  had  declared  God  on  earth  because  His 
inherent  relijition  to  the  Father,  before  the  Incar- 
nation as  after  the  Exaltation,  was  one  of  being 
'  in  his  bosom '  (cf.  16^  '  I  c;ime  out  from  the 
Father,  and  am  come  into  the  world';  17^''  'the 
glory  which  I  had  with  thee  before  the  world 
was  ...  I  manifested  [i(pav4pui(!a,  aor.]  thy  name'). 
The  eh  in  this  case  may  either  simply  be  used  for 
ev,  after  tlie  fashion  of  the  constructio  pragnans 
(cf.  >Ik  \2?-  ",  Ac  7^  8*),  or,  as  Godet  and^Westcott 
think  {Comm.  in  loc),  may  point  to  a  relationship 
not  of  simple  contiguity  merely,  but  of  perfect 
communion  realized  through  active  intercourse. 
The  Father's  bosom  is  not  a  place  but  a  life.  '  The 
Son  is  there,  only  because  He  plun>;es  into  it  by 
His  unceasing  action ;  it  is  so  with  every  state 
which  consists  in  a  moral  relation'  (Godet,  tb.). 

Literature.— Grimm-Thayer,  Lex.,  s.v.  xAtk  ;  the  Comm.  on 
the  various  passages ;  Hastings'  DB,  artt.  '  Dress,' '  Abraham's 

Bosom.'  J.  C.  Lambert. 

BOTTLE.— This  is  the  AV  rendering  (RV  '  wine- 
skin ')  of  aaxis,  which  denotes  the  tanned  skins  of 
slieep  and  goats  that  are  used  in  the  East  for  hold- 
ing water,  oil,  wine,  and  cheese  (see  art.  '  Bottle '  in 
Hastings'  DB  i.  311).     In  tlie  Gospels  the  allusion 


BOY 


BOYHOOD 


221 


to  '  bottles '  occurs  in  connexion  with  a  question  that 
had  been  addressed  to  f'lui'-l  with  ii'i;:ird  to  an  ob- 
served difference  betwi-rn  1 1 1~  .li-riplis  and  those  of 
John  the  Baptist  and  l\v  I'linii  r,^  (Mt9"-",  Mk 
2'8-2=,  Lk  o^-'^).  A  <cii:iiii  ..nlw.inl  conformity 
was  expected  in  religious  teacliin;,'  and  example, 
and  the  absence  of  fasting  among  His  disciples 
seemed  to  create  a  perplexing  ami  objectionable 
departure.  The  interview  takes  place  immediately 
after  the  incident  of  Levi's  feast,  when  Christ's 
eating  with  publicans  and  sinners  was  objected  to 
as  lowering  the  standard  of  the  religious  life. 

The  simile  reminds  us  that  the  life  of  institutions 
as  of  individuals  has  a  limit.  It  is  sufficient  for  the 
wine-skin  to  have  once  held  and  matured  and  pre- 
served its  new  wine.  The  attempt  to  repeat  the 
act  of  filling  and  distension  involves  the  loss  of 
both  the  wine  and  the  vessel  which  holds  it.  The 
most  venerated  form  was  once  an  innovation  on 
what  preceded  it,  and  by  the  operation  of  the 
same  law  a  fresh  expansive  force  will  again  alter 
external  conditions  and  create  new  conformities. 
Christ  claims  the  entire  devotion  of  His  disciples, 
and  while  the  fasting  that  was  largely  a  com- 
memoration of  the  past  was  suspended  during  His 
presence,  it  would  receive  in  days  to  come  a  fresh 
impulse  from  His  absence. 

The  important  truth  taught  by  the  simile  of  the 
wine-skin  and  its  contents  is  emphasized  by  the 
twofold  fact  that  religious  forces  are  the  most  ex- 
pansive of  all,  and  that  their  receptive  forms  often 
attain  to  a  degree  of  rigidity  which  preserves  the 
outward  shape  after  the  contents  have  been  with- 
drawn. With  regard  to  the  principle  of  fasting, 
the  affinity  of  mind  and  body  that  connects  sorrow 
with  sighing  (Is  35'°)  abundantly  authoriz.es  the 
observance  under  naturally  suitable  circumstances, 
but  fasting  by  statute  has  usually  been  found  to 
be  linked,  both  as  cause  and  effect,  with  ecclesi- 
astical segregation  and  asceticism. 

LrreRATURB.— Brace,  Parabolic  Teaching,  p.  2i)5S.,  Galilean 
Gospel,  p.  180  ff. ;  F.  W.  Eoberlson,  The  Human  Mace,  p.  190  fl. 
G.  M.  Mackie. 

BOY  (the  word).— In  the  AV  this  word  does  not 
occur  in  the  Gospels,  noi'  indeed  in  NT,  and  only 
three  times  in  OT  (Gn  25=',  Jl  3=,  Zee  S%  We 
usually  have  '  male  child '  for  a  very  young  boy, 
and  '  lad  '  for  an  older  one,  where  '  boy  '  would  be 
used  in  modern  English.  And  RV  has  retained 
the  older  use  in  most  cases. 

But  there  is  in  modern  English  an  ambiguous 
use  of  '  boy.'  It  sometimes  approximates  to  the 
sense  of  '  servant '  (cf.  '  doctor's  boy '),  and  in  some 
of  our  colonies  is  used  of  a  native  male  servant 
irrespective  of  age.  A  '  boy  '  in  this  sense  may  be 
grey  -  headed.  This  force  of  the  word  made  it 
suitable  as  a  rendering  of  ttois  in  certain  cases. 
In  Mt  8'-'^  =  Lk  l--'",  the  centurion's  servant  is 
sometimes  described  as  a  SoCXos  (RVm,  'bond- 
servant') and  sometimes  as  a  Trais  (RVm,  'boy'). 
RV  text  keeps  the  AV  '  servant '  tliroughout  for 
both  words.  A  comparison  of  Mt  8'^  with  Lk  7'" 
shows  that  the  two  words  ajiply  to  the  same 
person.  It  is  in  the  centurion's  oirn  speech  (Mt 
8*-'=Lk  V)  that  he  refers  to  the  slave  who  was 
'  precious  unto  him '  (Lk  7=  RVm)  by  the  milder 
word.  The  narrative  (except  Mt  8")  uses  SoOXos, 
as  the  centurion  hini-elf  .Nm's  in  MtS',  Lk  7".  The 
variation  is  eitlici  ii  ii,itin,il  simple  touch,  proving 
the  veracity  of  tlie  narrative,  or  it  is  an  instance 
of  the  highest  art.     See  art.  Servant. 

As  in  the  above  instance  Trah= SoOXos,  so  in  the 
narrative  of  the  healing  of  the  epileptic  child  (Mt 
17»->»,  Mk  9"-=',  Lk  93'-'3)  we  find  in  St.  Matthew 
and  St.  Luke  (not  St.  Mark)  that  irafs  can  =  ui4s. 
Here  Mt  17'8,  Lk  9«  RV  have  'boy'  in  the  text, 
for  the  AV  '  child.'  Similar  is  the  use  in  Lk  8"-", 
where  ij  ttois  is  '  maiden '  and  '  maid '  in  EV. 


Except  where  the  context  requires  a  diHerent 
rendering,  irais  is  usually  translated  '  ser\'ant '  in 
botli  vei'sions,  and  RV  often  points  out  occurrences 
of  ooOXos  by  putting  'or  bond-servant'  in  the  margin. 

In  .In  4=''  both  versions  have  '  son  '  ( =  irars)  where 
RV  had  far  better  have  put  '  boy '  as  in  the  above 
instance,  keeping  '  son '  strictly  for  uiis. 

George  Farmer. 

BOYHOOD  (.Jewish).— So  little  is  recorded  on 
this  subject  in  the  Gospels,  or  in  the  NT  generally, 
that  we  are  dependent  on  other  sources  for  our  facts. 
These  sources  are  cliiefiy  the  OT,  the  OT  Apocrypha, 
Josephus,  the  Talmud,  and  modern  Eastern  life. 
The  first  of  these  authorities  is  too  early,  and  the 
last  two  too  late,  to  justify  us  in  basing  on  them 
any  very  positive  statements  as  to  Jewish  boyhood 
in  the  time  of  Christ.  With  this  caution  they  are 
used  in  the  present  article.  And  it  will  be  remem- 
bered (1)  that  the  Jewish  life  of  our  period  was  the 
result  of  the  jirevious  life  of  the  nation ;  (2)  that 
Israel  is  a  nation  of  great  conservatism  in  matters 
of  religion  and  the  home,  although  receptive  of  new 
ideas ;  (3)  that  some  of  the  Apocryphal  books  were 
late  enough  to  be  products  of  an  age  in  which 
Pharisaism,  Hellenism,  and  other  Jewisli  views 
met  each  other,  much  as  they  did  in  the  early  part 
of  the  1st  cent.  A.D. 

i.  The  Home.— Boys,  until  their  fifth  year,  were 
under  the  charge  of  the  women,  afterwards  they 
passed  under  the  father's  control.  We  therefore 
treat  the  period  of  boyhood  as  commencing  at  the 
age  of,  live.  Although  no  doubt  many  mothers 
retained  their  influence  after  the  boy's  childhood, 
it  is  surely  a  mistake  to  quote  Pr  31'  in  this  con- 
nexion, as  Phillott  does  (Smith's  DB^  i.  305"). 

The  special  influence  implied  here  is  surely  that  of  the  queen- 
mother  over  an  adult  reigning  king,  which,  according  to  Eastern 
custom,  exceeds  that  of  a  wife.  For  there  may  be  many  wives, 
but  only  one  mother  of  the  sovereign.  The  queen-mother 
(Oeblrah)  is  mentioned  1  K  IS'S,  2  K  10'^,  Jer  1318,  and  the  name 
of  the  king's  mother  is  given  with  emphasis  in  the  account 
of  his  accession  (1  K  1421  152  etc.).  So,  in  David's  lifetime, 
Bathsheba  shows  him  great  outward  respect  (1  K  II6),  but  is 
seated  at  Solomon's  right  hand  (1  K  219)  when  the  latter  is  king. 
Phillott  also  refers  to  Herod,  i.  136 ;  Strabo,  xv.  733 ;  Niebuhr, 
Descript.  p.  24. 

More  to  the  point  is  St.  Paul's  reference  (2  Ti  P 
314. 15J  jq  j]jg  example  and  teaching  of  Lois  and 
Eunice,  which  no  doubt  was  only  one  instance  out 
of  many  of  good  maternal  influence.  And  the 
Mosaic  law  placed  the  mother  on  an  equality  with 
the  father  in  her  claim  on  the  obedience  and  love 
of  her  son  (Ex  21",  Lv  20*  etc. ).  The  house-mother 
of  such  a  family  as  our  Lord's  was  neither  so 
ignorant,  so  secluded,  nor  so  debased  as  the  woman 
sometimes  described  by  travellers  in  the  East. 
Judaism  was  not  in  this  respect  the  same  as 
Mohammedanism.  Even  now  we  are  told  that  the 
home  of  the  Syrian  Christian  is  superior  to  that  of 
his  Mohammedan  neighbours.  And  even  anion"  the 
latter  the  seclusion  of  the  harem  belongs  chiefly  to 
the  life  of  the  rich.  In  working  and  middle-class 
homes  the  wife  and  mother  takes  her  part,  as  in 
the  West,  in  the  training  of  the  children,  and  in 
necessary  outdoor  business.  The  OT  and  the 
Gospels  show  this.  For  instance,  '  women's  apart- 
ments' are  never  referred  to  in  the  latter.  And 
Christ  apparently  met  the  wife  of  Jairus,  the  wife 
of  Chuza,  Susanna,  Martha  and  Mary,  Peter's 
wife's  mother,  and  others,  without  the  obstructive 
conditions  of  zenana  life.  We  lay  stress  on  this, 
because  we  believe  that  views  of  one  side  of  Eastern 
life  are  often  applied  too  widely,  and  because  from 
this  freer,  higher  status  of  woman  in  Israel  there 
followed  her  greater  fitness  for  wifehood  and 
motherhood.  We  believe  that  in  Galilee,  at  least, 
an  almost  Western  freedom  of  intercourse  between 
the  sexes  must  be  considered  in  estimating  the 
influences  affecting  Jewish  lioyliood. 

The  period  of  boyhood,  as  we  understand  it  for 


222 


BOYHOOD 


the  purpose  of  this  article,  was  from  the  5th  to  the 
13th  year.  The  legal  'coming  of  age'  was  at  13 
for  Ixjys,  but  12  or  even  earlier  for  girls.  But 
Schiire'r  (HJP  u.  ii.  51  f.)  thinks  that  the  definite 
age  was  fixed  in  post-Talnmdic  times,  and  that 
nothing  hut  '  the  signs  of  approaching  puberty ' 
settled  in  earlier  times  whether  a  child  was  Iwund 
or  not  bound  to  the  observance  of  the  Law.  "We 
shall  consider  the  ceremonies  of  this  '  coming  of 
age'  later  on.  One  thing  connected  vnth  this  date 
was  the  power  of  giving  evidence.  Schtirer  quotes 
the  Mishna  (Nidda  v.  6) :  '  AVhen  a  child  is  twelve 
years  and  one  day  old,  his  oaths  are  tested  ;  when 
he  is  thirteen  years  and  a  day,  they  are  valid  with- 
out further  ceremony.'  Here,  for  our  period,  we 
may  compare  the  commentators  on  Jn  9-'  '  He  is  of 


children's  games  do  not  allude  specially  to  those  of 

boys.      Zee  8^  '  The  streets  of  the  city  s 

of  boys  and  girls  playing  in  the  streets  thereof,'  is 


!  city  shall  be  full 


quite  general,  and  is  500  years  too  early.  The  use 
vi  yeled  ('boy')  and  yalddh  ('girl')  even  leaves  a 
vagueness  as  to  the  ages  of  the  children.  But  the 
prophet  no  doubt  based  his  words  on  the  customs 
and  sights  of  his  day,  and  thus  a  fairly  early 
period  of  life  is  meant.  It  is  not  said  that  the  sexes 
were  playing  together,  they  might  be  in  different 
groups.  Nature,  even  in  England,  soon  leads  to 
this,  and  the  early  ripening  of  the  East  must  be 
remembered.  Therefore,  soon  after  the  period  of 
infantile  games,  comes  that  of  sports  practised  bj- 
each  sex  alone,  and  in  the  case  of  boys  '  manly ' 
exercises  soon  follow,  if  practised  at  all.     In  many 


parts  of  the  East  the  climate  is  often  quite  un- 
suited  for  the  'school-boy'  games  of  Northern 
lands.     The  absence  of  these  is  noticed   by  the 


teachers  of  many  Mission  schools.  But  in  this 
respect  there  must  be  great  differences.  That 
lassitude  which  is  true  of  children  in  Bombay,  for 
instance,  cannot  at  all  seasons  apply  to  those  of 
Nazareth,  which  is  about  1500  feet  above  sea-level. 
A  caution  is  necessary  when  such  excellent  books 
as  Lane's  Modern  Egyptians,  dealing  chiefly  with 
Cairo,  or  even  works  on  Persia  or  India,  are  used 
not  merely  to  illustrate  the  Bible,  but  to  add  to  the 
descriptions  in  it. 

There  were,  of  course,  in  the  1st  cent.  A.D.  athletic 
sports  and  physical  exercises  in  some  of  the  large 
towns  of  the  Holy  Land.  But  these  were  so  con- 
nected with  Hellenic  immorality  that  they  were 
offensive  to  every  pious  Jew.  "They  were  chiefly 
confined  to  the  cities  which  liad  a  large  heathen 
Ijopulation,  and  we  cannot  imagine  a  gymnasium 
at  Nazareth  or  Hebron.  At  Jerusalem,  during  the 
high  priesthood  of  Jason  (B.C.  173),  a  gymnasium 
was  set  up,  and  '  the  very  priests  forsook  their 
service  at  the  altar  and  tooK  part  in  the  games  of 
the  paln-stra'  (Schiirer,  I.  i.  203;  2  Mac  4"""). 
Tiberias,  Jericho,  Tarich:ca  had  each  a  hippodrome 
or  a  .st.adium  (Scliiirer,  II.  i.  33).  Had  the  exercises 
for  which  these  liuiUlings  were  erected  commended 
themselves  to  the  Jews,  the  older  boys  would  soon 
have  emulated  their  .adult  countrymen  as  far  as 
possible,  just  as  English  boys  are  cricketers  and 
footballers  because  Englishmen  are  .so.  But 
Judaism  completelj'  condemned  the  exei'cises  in 
which  Greeks  and  Romans  delighted.  By  their 
history  as  well  as  by  their  surroundings  and  details 
these  exercises  were  connected  with  heathenism 
and  apostate  Judaism  (Jos.  Ant.  XV.  viii.  1).  No 
son  of  pious  Jewish  parents  could  copy  even  the 
innocent  .side  of  these  exercises  (Brough,  76,  77). 
See  art.  Game.s. 

An  older  hoy  in  districts  like  Upper  Galilee  or 
the  hill  country  of  Judsea  would  find  much 
physical  exertion  called  for  by  the  contour  of  the 
country.       Almost    every    journey    implied    hill- 


climbing.  Moreover,  there  were  (and  are)  in  many 
\  [larts  of  Palestine  many  minor  field-sports  prac- 
tisetl,  such  as  the  snaring  of  small  birds,  which 
I  would  form  a  pastime  for  older  lads.  Skill  in 
.slinging  (Jg  20'«,  1  S  17*  2  K  3»,  1  Ch  12^  Job 
4128(20)^  Pr  26"  [AV,  RVm],  1  Mac  6=')  could  he  ob- 
tained only  by  early  training  and  practice.  The 
same  remark  applies  to  the  archery  so  often  men- 
tioned in  the  OT.  That  both  these  accomplish- 
ments were  maintained  in  NT  times  may  be 
believed  from  the  many  references  to  bowmen  and 
slingers  in  Josephus  (5.7,  jKi.i.sim).  But  specific 
references  to  these  arts  as  boyish  exercises  are 
apparently  wanting. 

Young  Engli.sh  children  play  at '  horses, ' '  school,' 
'  work,'  '  mothers,'  etc. ,  which  we  may  call  games  of 
imitation.  The  Talmud  alludes  to  these  ;  and  our 
Lord  noticed  the  little  children  playing  at  mar- 
riages and  funerals  (Mt  ll'*",  Lk  7^=).  These 
would  be  played  by  youri//  children  of  both  sexes. 


Lwd  Jesiis  1,  pseudo-Matthew  27, Thomas  11,  AraMo  Gospel  of 
the  Infancy  36  etc.,  in  B.  H.  Coivper's  Apocryphal  Gospels). 
Some  of  these  accounts  describe  our  Lord's  plai-mates  as  also 
modelling  objects.  While  we  reject  the  miraculous  statements 
that  our  Lord  endued  these  figures  with  life,  we  may  accept 
the  narratives  as  based  on  actual  childish  games.  It  is  indeed 
said  that  Judaism  would  have  shrunk  from  any  representatio; 


of  the  Law  ;  and  even  if  the  Judieo-Christian  Apcwr^^phal 
;  absolutely  wrong  in  describing  this  modelling  as  a 
►f  our  Lord's  play  in  childhood,  the.v  may  be  ri  jht  in 
an  element  in  a  picture  of  Palestinian  infancy.  Are 
the  children  of  orthodox  Jews  now  forbidden  the  use  of  dolls  or 
wooden  horses? 

In  PEFSt,  April  1899,  p.  99,  is  an  account,  mth  illustrations, 
of  three  soft  limestone  slabs,  reseniblini;  draught-boards,  founn 
in  the  excavations  at  Tell  Zakari\a.  One  is  complete,  measur- 
ing 23  cm.  x20cm.  (about  4Un.  x  4  in.)  and  7  cm.  thick.  It  is 
ruled  (incised)  so  as  to  form  144  squares  of  irregular  size.  The 
other  two  are  fnignients  only.  They  belong  to  the  Greek 
period.  Such  drau^ght-boarris  have  also  been  "found  at  Gezer 
andatTell-es-Safi.  Some  have  fewer  squares,  and  clearly  there 
were  various  arrangements  of  the  squares  (PKi-'Sf,  Oct.  1900, 
p.  321 ;  Oct.  1903,  p.  300).  A  collection  of  small  waterworn 
pebbles,  each  about  the  size  of  an  ordinary  ivory  card  counter 
and  three  times  as  thick,  was  found  in  the  lower  Jewish  stratum 
at  Oezer.  These  were  either  diuught-nien,  or  counters  for  cal- 
culation (;'/•:;•»,  iirt.  11103,  p.  3oo> 

Txvo  small  drau-ht-iiien  of  green  enamelled  paste  (possibly 
Egj-ptiaii),  found  ..I  t:ezer,  are  described  PEFSt,  Oct.  1903,  p. 
213,  and  pi.  ii.,  litis.  25,  26).  Others  of  pottery  of  local  manu- 
facture have  also  been  discovered. 

iii.  School. — The  majority  of  Jewish  boys  were 
as  unable  to  study  in  the  bith  ha-Midra.th  as  the 
majority  of  our  population  are  to  procure  a  Uni- 
versity training  (Ac  4",  Jn  7"-",  and,  on  the 
other  hand,  Ac  22' etc.).  In  any  case  this  higher 
education  belonged  to  an  age  beyond  boyhood. 
Elementary  schools,  however,  existed  at  least 
wherever  there  was  a  synagogue.  In  them  read- 
ing was  certainly  taught ;  and  even  if  Scripture 
was  the  only  text-book,  the  knowledge  thus  ac- 
quired would  avail  in  other  directions.  Writing 
also  was  taught,  probably  as  a  help  to  the  readin<' 
more  than  for  its  own  sake  (Jn  8*-  « compared  with 
7"  show  that  it  was  an  'elementary  subject'). 
Arithmetic,  etc.,  is  not  mentioned  in  our  authori- 
ties, hut  some  acquaintance  with  it  is,  of  course, 
a  probable  part  of  the  course.  It  would  be  of 
more  interest  to  know  if  Greek  was  ever  taught 
in  the  synagogue  schools  of  Palestine.  It  must 
have  been  so  necessary  in  the  many  bilingual 
districts.  It  was  the  means  of  communication 
between  the  natives  and  the  Roman  authorities. 

A  training  in  a  foreign  or  in  a  dead  language  is 
always  a  mental  advantage.  Even  if  Greek  were 
not  taught  to  most  Jewish  boys,  Hebrew  was  ;  and 
the  Hebrew  of  the  UT  which  we  know  they 
studied  was  not  the  Hebrew  (Aramaic)  which 
they  spoke  in  their  homes  (£.17.  Mk  5*').  If  only 
the'  mother-tongue  was  used,  then  the  Scriptures 
were  read  (or  verbally  taught)  in  a  Targum. 


I 


BOYHOOD 


BOYHOOD 


223 


According  to  tlie  .Icwisli  authorities,  the  ele- 
mentary or  sj'nagogue  school  was  called  the  bcth 
ha-Sepher,  'house  of  the  book'(i.e.  the  Scriptures), 
to  distinguish  it  from  the  hcfh  ha-Midrash  or  beth 
ha-Talmud,  theological  colleges  where  the  Rab- 
binical explanations  and  additions  were  taught. 
The  teacher  of  the  school  was  usually  the  hazzdn 
or  servant  of  the  congregation  (Lk  4''"' ;  Shabbath 
i.  3). 

An  elementary  native  Mohammedan  school  at  the  present 
day,  where  the  instruction  is  reading  and  writing  Arabic,  and 
the  Btudy  of  the  Koran,  will  give  us  an  idea  of  the  probable 
methods.  The  scholars  sit  cross-legpced  at  their  teacher's  feet, 
he  being  slightly  above  them  (Lk  2«,  Ac  223,  of,  Mt  6i).  The 
letters  are  first  taught  by  tracing  with  a  stick  in  sand.  All 
reading  is  aloud,  and  in  a  kind  of  rhythmical  chant  or  drone. 
Even  in  after  life  the  sacred  Book  is  always  read  aloud,  and 
so  Philip  (Ac  83")  heard  the  eunuch  reading  hli  roll  of  Isaiah. 
The  discipline  is  of  the  sternest  kind,  corporal  punishment 
being  freely  used.  Does  a  foundation  of  fact,  or  at  least 
vraisetnl/lance^  lie  beneath  the  legends  of  our  Lord's  treatment 
by  His  schoolmaster  V  (Gospel  of  pseudo-Matthew  31;  Gospel 
of  Thomas  14.  15  ;  ib.  (Latin)  12.  13  etc.).  It  is  noticeable  how 
the  Lord  and  His  Apostles  silently  ignore  all  such  advice  about 
the  training  of  children  aa  we  find  in  Pr  13M 1918  23i"-,  Sir  30i-i3. 
We  believe  that  Judaism,  like  some  sections  of  Christendom, 
had  read  such  OT  passages  too  literally,  or  applied  them  too 
severely,  and  Eph  6*  is  much  more  in  the  spirit  of  the  GospeL 

How  far  was  elementary  education  universal 
and  compulsory?  The  Jewish  tradition  asserts  that 
it  was  both  (cf.  Jerus.  Kethuboth  viii.  11,  quoted 
in  Schiirer,  II.  ii.  49).  Schiirer  concludes  that 
schools  were  general  in  the  time  of  Christ ;  and 
thinks  that  the  tradition  is  by  no  means  incredible 
that  Joshua,  the  son  of  6amaliel  (1st  cent.), 
enacted  'that  teachers  of  boys  should  be  ap- 
pointed in  every  town,  and  that  children  of  the 
age  of  six  or  seven  should  be  brought  to  them.' 
At  least  it  is  possible  that  education  was  fairly 
universal  in  our  Lord's  day,  within  the  limits 
indicated  above.     See,  further,  art.  Education. 

iv.  Religious  instruction  and  practice  — 
Although  the  school  education  was  on  a  religious 
basis,  it  does  not  appear  to  have  clashed  with  or 
superseded  the  religious  teaching  of  the  home. 
The  responsibility  remained  with  the  jiarents. 
This  was  in  accordance  with  the  OT  and  especially 
the  Pentateuch,  which  gives  no  commands  for  for- 
mal relinous  instruction  (schools,  tutors,  etc.)  as  in 
later  Judaism.  But  it  is  clearly  laid  down  in  the 
Law  and  OT  generally  that  children  are  to  be 
taught  (cf,  Gn  18'"  (J),  Ps  44^  lS^-\  Dt  4"  6'  IP' 
32^").  The  Wisdom  books  imply  parental  teaching 
only  (Pr  V  2'  3^  4^  1^  10>  W  15*  22^  2322-25  29",  Sir 
3.  1^  30^  etc.,  also  To  4  and  li,  passim).  We  notice 
in  Ex  122««'  13*  the  direction  that  the  people  were 
to  join  the  instruction  of  the  children  in  the 
history  and  meaning  of  the  Passover  with  the 
feast  itself  In  Ex  iS"-'"  the  presentation  of  the 
firstborn  |is  made  another  opportunity  for  such 
instruction.  It  is  the  fathers  who  have  the  re- 
ligious instruction  of  young  Israel  in  their  hands, 
for  other  rites,  ceremonies,  festivals  Avould  natur- 
ally be  explained  to  the  children  in  like  manner. 
Not  by  catechisms,  reading  lessons,  tasks  learned, 
or  dry  instruction  in  a  school,  but  by  sharing  in 
the  ritual  worship,  with  interest  aroused  for  the 
coming  explanations  offered,  which  \vere  based  on 
the  history,  were  the  children  taught. 

Many  occasions  presented  themselves  for  such 
teaching  as  arises  from  the  child's  own  inquiries 
and  interest.  There  were  the  sug";estive  little 
rolls  of  parchment  hung  up  in  the  doorway  (the 
mezuzCth)  and  the  phylacteries  (tcphUUn)  \\orn  on 
the  forehead  and  wri.st  (Dt  6-'  11-"  and  Ex  IS'-i", 
Dtesips-^").  See  art.  PhylactkriIvS.  Another 
opportunity  tor  religious  instruction  witliout  .set 
lessons  was  given  by  the  wearing  of  the  fringes 
{zhith),  Nu  15"«.  See  art.  BORDER.  The  feasts 
observed  at  home  and  in  the  synagogue,  and  the 
pilgrimages  to  Jerusalem  also  afforded  opportuni- 


tie.s  for  oral  and  interesting  instruction  on  the  part 
of  the  i)arents.  Though  Judaism  is  a  ritualistic 
and  ceremonial  religion,  teaching  through  the  eye 
in  a  way  well  adapted  to  the  capacities  of  chUdren, 
the  ritual  and  ceremonies  are  largely  for  the  home. 
The  master  of  the  house,  the  boy's  father,  did  and 
does  much  more  than  'conduct  family  prayer.' 
Although  the  Passover  was  held  at  Jerusalem,  the 
greater  part  of  the  service  and  all  the  sacred 
meal  were  celebrated  in  private  houses  and  family 
circles.  The  outward  forms  of  religion  at  least 
met  the  boy  in  his  home  more  than  they  do  with 
us.  There  were  more  opportunities  for  a  pious 
parent  to  do  the  duty  which  we  have  seen  wa.s 
cast  upon  him  by  the  Law  and  by  the  customs  of 
Israel. 

Moreover,  the  Biblical  history  occupied  the 
place  of  national  history,  of  ballad  poetry,  of 
folk-lore  tales,  and  of  all  that,  in  ages  before  the 
invention  of  printing,  took  the  place  of  our  '  chil- 
dren's literature.' 

In  many  cases,  no  doubt,  perhaps  in  most,  Haggadistic  em- 
bellishments were  made  to  the  oT  narratives,  some  of  which 
have  perhaps  crept  into  one  or  both  of  our  present  Biblical  re- 
censions, that  of  Palestine  and  that  of  the  Dispersion.  Ruth  as 
a  scarcely  altered  love-tale  ;  Judith  and  Jonah,  allegorical  fic- 
tions ;  Esther,  especially  in  its  Greek  form,  a  greatly  amplified 
history,  are  instances  of  books  which  we  now  have  in  written 
forms,  but  which  were  once  the  'fireside  stories' (to  use  a 
Western  phrase)  of  many  Jewish  homes.  Here,  rather  than  in 
a  purjxiseful  foolishness  of  the  Rabbis,  was  probably  the  source 
of  much  that  is  strange  and  bizarre  in  Jewish  literature. 

Who  would  listen  so  attentively  to  the  father 
or  old  grandfather  telling  his  evening  story  when 
work  was  done  as  the  young  boys  and  girls  in  the 
outer  part  of  the  family  circle  ?  The  stoi-y-telling 
taste  of  the  East  is  a  well-known  fact  (witness  the 
Arabian  Nights) ;  true  history  and  the  truth  of 
God  were  probably  taught  orally  in  a  somewhat 
analogous  manner. 

Religious  instruction  was  aided  in  two  other 
ways.  No  one  can  doubt  that  the  historical 
Psalms  (78.  81.  105.  106.  114)  as  Mell  as  the  alpha- 
betical ones  (9-10.  25.  34.  37.  111.  112.  119.  145) 
were  well  adapted  for  use  by  young  people,  even 
if  they  were  not  composed  expressly  for  the  pur- 
pose of  assisting  tho.se  who  were  to  leara  them 
by  heart.  The  '  Hymn  of  the  Fathers '  (Sir  44-50) 
has  apparently  a  similar  object.  It  is  far  too 
long  for  liturgical  use,  of  which  besides  there  is 
no  record. 

And,  lastly,  the  sjmagogne  services,  with  the 
lections  from  the  Law  (Ac  15-'')  and  the  Prophets 
(Lk  4"-™,  Ac  13"^),  filled  their  place  in  the  training 
of  a  Jewish  boy.  It  is  in  the  highest  degree  un- 
likely that  every  household,  even  every  pious 
household,  possessed  rolls  of  all  the  OT  books. 
There  was  not  perhaps  a  definite  '  Canon '  in  our 
modem  sense.  More  families  would  possess  the 
'  Law,'  but  expense  would  prevent  even  this  being 
universal.  The  oral  teaching  at  home,  the  reacling 
in  school,  and  the  hearing  in  the  synagogue,— all 
had  a  share  in  producing  that  knowledge  of  the 
Jewish  Bible  which,  as  we  see  in  the  Gospels,  was 
possessed  even  by  working  men  like  the  hshers  of 
Bethsaida  (Lk  9^''  etc.).  But  the  oral  teaching, 
however  and  wherever  it  had  been  given,  is  clearly 
referred  to  in  Utb-^-^-^^-^  {heard  not  read)  17'" 
(hearsay  of  Mai  4*-'').  Our  Lord  constantly  re- 
ferred to  OT  incidents  (Mt62»8<  12"-"-«et<;.)  as 
to  facts  well  known  by  the  multitudes.  (Do  all 
Mohammedan  families  possess  a  Koran  ?  Yet  they 
know  their  faith).  But  then  He  also  referred  to 
haggadOth  (Mt  8")  and  to  the  OT  Apocrypha  (Lk 
6",  cf.  1  Mac  2'2-")  in  much  the  same  way.  The 
contrasted  phrase,  'Have  ye  never  readV  (Mt 
2116. 42  22"  etc. ),  was  said  to  the  religious  leaders, 
who  would  liave  more  advantages  and  opportuni- 
ties than  the  bulk  of  the  population,  and  who  were 
supposed  to  study  the  %i]r%Uen  Revelation. 


224 


BOYHOOD 


BOYHOOD  OF  JESUS 


Up  to  the  age  of  12  or  13  a  Jewish  boy  was 
called  katan  ('little')  or  tinok  (cf.  Ijoth  words  used 
of  school  children  in  passages  quoted  by  Schiirer, 
II.  ii.  49  ff.). 

The  second  word  is  a  form  of  piv  ydnele^  suckling:  (P^J  to 
suck),  which  however  is  used  of  schoolboys  in  the  Tilmud  ;  and 
this  meaning:  has  clearly  been  reached  by  a  lang^uage-change 
similar  to  that  b.v  which  infant  has  come  in  English  law  to 
mean,  in  spite  of  its  etymolo^,  a  person  who  may  be  twenty 
years  old. 

At  the  age  mentioned  above,  the  Jewish  boy 
became  bound  to  fulfil  the  Law.  He  was  therefore 
called  a  '  son  of  the  Law '  (har-niizvah),  or  a  '  son  of 
the  Precept,' and  the  ceremony  "in  which  he  was 
recognized  as  such  by  the  community  was  natur- 
ally regarded  as  important  and  interesting.* 

Opinions  difier  as  to  how  much  of  the  Law  and 
the  Precepts  a  boy  was  bound  to  observe  before 
this  ceremony.  Probably  there  was  no  uniformity. 
The  practice  for  sons  of  Pharisees  is  naturally  the 
one  recorded  for  \is,  rather  than  the  popular  one. 
And  probably  also  the  exact  period  when  tlie 
fullest  obligations  fell  on  the  boy  was  not  fixed  at 
first,  but  was  settled  individually  (as  Schiirer 
suggests)  by  the  appearance  of  signs  of  approach- 
ing manhood.  We  must  remember  that  Orientals 
attain  physical  maturity  at  an  earlier  age  than 
we  do. 

when  the  age  of  13  was  fixed,  the  Rabbis  found 


2"  with  Ac  723).  They  taught  that  Samuel  was 
began  to  prophesy  (1  S  12*  is  followed  by  219  21^  implying  an 
interval  of  some  years  before  3*,  at  which'  time  Samuel  'was  old 
enough  to  open  the  doors  of  the  house  of  the  Lord,  S^s,  The 
age  isalso  stated  by  Jos.  Aiit.  v.  x.  4).  Solomon  was  (absurdly 
enough)  said  to  have  been  12  years  old  when  he  gave  his  judg- 
ment (1  K  316-2p.  The  only  instance  which  was  not  entirely 
founded  on  conjecture  or  tradition  is  that  of  Josiah's  age  when 
he  carried  out  his  reform,  2  Ch  343  (not  in  2  K  223).  These 
instances  all  look  like  attempts  to  date  the  origin  of  the 
Eabbinical  rule  further  back  into  OT  times. 

According  to  modern  rule,  the  boy  must  be  13  ye.irs  old  and 
a  day.  He  is  then  presented  in  the  synagogue  "on  a  Sabbath, 
called  '  the  Sabbath  of  Phylacteries '  (tfphitlin)  because  the  boy 
is  then  invested  with  them,  and  wears  them  in  prayer,  and  is 
bound  to  observe  the  feasts  and  fasts.  In  olden  days  the 
obligation  to  attend  the  feasts  at  Jerusjilein  perhaps  became 
binding  after  thisceremonv.  Women  and  children  were  exempt 
by  the  Law  ('  all  thy  males,"  Dt  I6I6).  But  Schurer  (11.  ii.  61) 
quotes  adecision  of  the  school  of  Shamniai  as  to  the  meaning 
of  'child'  (katan):  'Every  one  who  cannot  yet  ride  on  his 
lather'sshouldersfrom  Jerusalem  to  the  temple  mount ' ;  while 
the  school  of  Ilillel  said  :  '  Every  one  who  cannot  yet  go  up  from 
Jerusalem  to  the  temple  mount  led  by  his  father's  hand.'  We 
think  that  Lk  2-12  neither  affirms  nor  denies  any  previous  visits 
of  Christ  to  the  temple,  either  annually  or  three  times  a  year. 
The  fact  that  His  life  had  been  in  danger  in  Jud!ca(Mt  213.'l6.22) 
might  lead  Joseph  and  Mary  to  observe  the  rule  less  strictly 
than  they  otherwise  would  have  done.  Perhaps  boys  who  lived 
at  or  near  Jerusalem  did  more  than  the  provincials.  If  Joseph 
wenc  up  alone  annually  he  probably  did  as  much  as  most  of  his 
Galilaean  neighbours.  The  Jews  of  the  Dispersion  certainly  only 
went  up  annually  (usually  at  Pentecost),  if  they  went  more  than 
once  or  twice  in  a  lifetime.  St.  Paul  had  omitted  many  years 
(Ac  2417),  although  a  strict  observer  himself  of  the  Law. 

In  modern  times  the  Jewish  hoy  reads  (or  rather  si'niys)  the 
lesson,  and  gives  the  blessing  for  the  first  time  at  the  bar- 
mizvdk  ceremony  in  the  presence  of  his  relatives  and  the  con- 
gre'gation.  It  is  to  his  parents  a  time  of  joy  and  honour,  and 
as  he  intones  the  holy  words,  the  prayers  of  his  pious  friends 
are  oHered.  Was  this  reading  by  the  boy  a  custom  in  the  1st 
century?  If  the  ceremony  existed  at  all,  it  prob.ably  was  a  part 
of  it,  and  Lk  4I6- 17  implies  that  the  Carpenter  had  officiated 
many  times  before.  The  first  occasion  may  well  have  been  at 
the  close  of  boyhood. 

Nowadays  also  the  presiding  Rabbi  usually  gives  an  address 
garnished  with  personal  allusions.  Presents  to  the  boy  from 
his  friends,  and  a  feast  at  the  parents'  house  follow  the  cere- 
mony. Much  in  the  whole  service  may  well  be  ancient,  and 
date  from  before  the  time  of  Christ;  but  the  absolute  silence 
of  the  NT,  Philo,  and  Josephus  on  the  subject  prevents  our  being 
positive  about  it. 

To  those  boys  who  livedfar  from  the  capital  and  temple  the 
periodical  visits  must  have  been  of  great  importance,  apart  from 
their  religious  purpose,  and  if  their  homes  were  in  quiet  villages, 


'  The  expression  bar-mizvah  has  been  found  in  the  Talmud, 
hut  does  not  seem  to  have  become  used  generally  for  an  adult 
till  the  Middle  Ages  (cf.  .Schiirer,  11.  ii.  51,  62  note  38,  and  his 
authorities). 


the  crowds  at  the  feasts  would  arouse  their  keenest  interest 
They  would  also  see  the  luxury  of  the  rich,  the  noisy  bargain, 
ing  of  traders,  and  signs  of  that  imperial  power  which,  however 
it  was  hated,  was  the  great/ac(  of  the  time. 

V.  AVoRK. — Every  well  brought-up  Jewish  boy 
was  taught  an  occupation.  This  may  have  arisen 
from  the  many  warnings  against  idleness  in  the 
Wisdom  books  of  the  OT  (Pr  6"- "  W-^  12="). 
'  Abundance  of  idleness '  (RV  '  prosperous  ease ')  is 
noted  in  Ezk  16*  as  a  cause  and  concomitant  of 
sin,  and  the  Rabbis  appear  to  have  realized  the 
truth  about  the  usefulness  of  manual  labour  to 
much  the  same  extent  as  did  the  founders  and 
leaders  of  AVestern  monasticism.  Rabban  Gam- 
aliel III.,  son  of  R.  Judah  ha-Nasi,  said:  'For 
exertion  in  both  (the  study  of  the  Law  and  labour) 
keeps  from  sin.  The  study  of  the  Law  without 
employment  in  business  must  at  last  be  interrupted, 
and  brings  transgi'ession  after  it'  (Aboth  ii.  2; 
Schiirer,  II.  i.  318,  §  25).  Another  said  :  '  He  Avho 
teaches  not  his  son  a  trade  teaches  him  to  be  a 
thief.' 

St.  Paul's  father  was  wealthy  enough  to  "ive 
him  a  good  Greek  education  at  Tarsus  (probably) 
and  a  Rabbinical  one  at  Jerusalem.  His  wealth 
is  also  implied  in  Ph  3'- ',  if  tliat  passage  refers, 
as  some  commentators  think,  to  St.  Pavd's  being 
disinherited  for  his  Christianity.  His  private 
means  somehow  disappeared,  so  that  he  nad  to 
depend  either  on  tlie  contributions  of  others  or  on 
his  labour.  But  he  had  a  trade  to  fall  back  upon 
(Ac  18^,  1  Th  2^  2  Th  3^).  And  the  warnings 
about  idleness  in  the  NT  were  addressed  by  him 
to  Gentile  Churches,  rather  tlian  by  him  or  other 
Apostles  to  Jewish  converts  (Eph  4=8,  2  Th  S"''-'^). 
Our  Lord  Avas  not  only  the  carpenter's  son,  but  the 
carpenter  (^Ik  6^) ;  and  Justin  Martyr  speaks  of 
ploughs  and  yokes  having  been  mjide  by  Him 
(Trypho,  88).  But  His  earthly  condition  was  not 
wealthy ;  and  this  may  have  been  the  case  witli 
Aquila  (Ac  18'),  as  it  probably  was  with  the  fisher- 
Apostles  of  Galilee.  See,  further,  artt.  TRADES, 
Work. 

Brough,  The   Earhj   Life   of  Our  Lord, 


tion,  but  needii 

many  centurii'^  If  II--.  il  ;nili-   -tin-  i>:it 
of  caution) ;  I'    I '  1  I .  ■-  / 

GJV'i  (Eng.  tr,   //  ■  '  I   ■  '  I- 

Vidiication.  .i    ,  ,■'■-  -  ■■     '.--    .'"-' 

by  Edersheini,  liidmi,  Farrar,  Ktini,  Goi 
Brough's  work  applies  t^o  some  of  tht 
articles  in  the  Bible  Dictionaries  and 
Biblical  Archmology,  ii.  17Sfl.  §111; 
Nowack  and  of  Benzinger.  s,v,  '  Familie. 
Much  '  local  colour '  is  to  be  gained  fri 
Palestine— Kitto,  Tristram,  Bobit 


' '/  .\azareth;  Schiirer, 
■I,  llor.  Hcb.  et  Tal- 
'  "< ;  Joseph  Simon, 
,  the  'Lives  of  Christ' 
ae,  etc.  (the  remark  on 
>e  also);  the  relevant 
Encyclopedias;  Keil, 
the  Hcb.  Archdol.  oi 


s  of  the  PEFSt. 


George  Farmer. 


BOYHOOD  OF  JESUS.— 1.  The  Biblical  data.— 
The  preceding  article  expresses  the  present  writer's 
ideas  as  to  religious  training,  education,  and 
recreation  in  the  time  of  Christ.  The  Gospels 
tell  us  nothing  except  by  inference.  The  complete 
absence  of  haggaddth,  i.e.  such  religious  fiction  as 
we  find  in  the  Talmud,  from  our  Lord's  teaching, 
implies  either  want  of  training  in  it,  or  positive 
rejection  of  it.  But  Christ  acquired  such  a  know- 
ledge of  the  Old  Testament,  and  perhaps  of  some 
books  outside  the  Palestinian  canon,  that  the 
teacliers  in  the  temple  'were  astonished  at  his 
understanding  and  answers'  (Lk  2^').  We  do  not 
doubt  that  Scribism  andRabbinism  had  begun,  and 
had  a  considerable  follo>ving.  But  we  doubt  if  it 
had  made  such  progress  that  a  good  Israelite  in  the 
provinces,  living  in  private  life,  was  bound  to  live 
and  to  order  his  household  according  to  the  rules 
laid  down  and  enforced  by  the  leaders  of  the  nation 
in  the  next  and  following  centuries  after  the  great 
upheaval  of  the  Jewish  war  with  Rome.     Then,  by 


BOYHOOD  OF  JESUS 


BOYHOOD  OF  JESUS 


225 


political  necessity,  the  '  traditions '  of  a  sect  became 
the  life  of  a  nation.  Perhaps,  also,  Christianity 
took  out  of  Judaism  those  pious  souls  who  were 
'  zealous  of  the  law,'  b>it  not  necessarily  so  of  the 
'traditions,'  and  there  were  left  only  those  leaders 
and  followers  whose  sayings  supply  us  witli  the 
picture  of  2nd  century  Judaism  (cf.  Schiirer, 
HJP  II.  i.  §  25,  '  Scribism '—  especially  pp.  365- 
379).  Yet  it  must  be  admitted,  in  favour  of  a 
contrary  view,  that  Peter  at  least  was  guided  hy 
some  rules  which  went  beyond  those  of  the  OT, 
and  which  came  from  the  scribes,  Pharisees,  and 
Rabbis  (Ac  lO^S;  Gal  2'=— eating  with  non-Jews). 
But  if  any  pious  persons  and  households  were  as 
yet  free  from  the  Rabbinical  '  yoke  of  bondage ' 
(Gal  5'),  surely  that  freedom  was  to  be  found  in  the 
liousehold  of  Nazareth.  A  protest  is  needed,  be- 
cause some  writers  illustrate  (?)  Christ's  early  life 
entirely  by  Rabbinical  rules.  The  many  illustra- 
tions from  Jewish  books  which  are  brought  forward 
to  prove  that  all  Jewish  boys  learnt  a  trade  are 
hardly  needed  to  prove  that  Christ  did  so.  Apart 
from  Mk  6*  (the  only  passage  in  which  He  is  called 
6  TinTuiv,  and  not  merely  6  rod  t^ktocos  kMs),  common 
sense  would  teach  us  that  He  who  deigned  to  live 
in  a  carpenter's  household,  under  real  human  con- 
ditions, in  His  youth,  would  help  Joseph,  and 
learn  the  art  he  practised.  This  is  implied  in  His 
subjection  to  Joseph  (Lk  2^').  Perhaps  the  parable 
of  the  Mote  (chip  or  splinter)  and  Beam  (Mt  7""°) 
derives  its  outward  form  from  the  work  of  His 
youth  (cf.  Justin  Martyr,  c.  Tryjihon.  88). 

During  the  stay  at  Nazareth,  where  Joseph  and 
Mary  settled  after  their  return  from  Egypt  (Mt  2-*), 
the  Babe  (ri  /3/)^0os,  Lk  2"*)  passed  into  the  stage  of 
young  boyhood.  He  grew  in  bodily  height  (r)Siavc, 
Lk  2*)  and  in  bodily  strength  (fVpaToioOxo,  Lk  2'"). 
The  omission  of  wvev/xart  in  this  verse  by  NBDL 
Vulg.  and  most  crit.  edd.  takes  away  any  ground 
for  discussing  its  meaning.  The  next  words  wXripoi- 
ixevov  (ro0ias  (or  (ro0(9)  imply  a  gradual,  progressive 
lilling.*  What  does  'wisdom'  mean?  Just  as 
any  manifestation  of  '  supernatural '  power  was  out 
of  place  in  this  stage  of  our  Lord's  life,  so  would 
have  been  any  such  manifestation  of  knowledge, 
of  adult  acquirements,  of  power  to  instruct  others, 
or  of  any  other  form  of  '  wisdom '  which  was  clearly 
unsuitable  to  His  age.  He  was  the  perfect  child, 
with  the  perfection  suited  for  each  successive  stage 
of  childhood.  And  others  recognized  and  valued 
this,  no  doubt  (cf.  '  in  favour  .  .  .  with  men,'  Lk 
2^2).  But  nothing  occurred  in  His  childhood  (or 
later,  up  to  the  time  of  His  beginning  His  ministry) 
to  prevent  His  neighbours  being  astonished  when 
His  work  began,  and  wondering  at  His  words  and 
works,  which  clearly  were  new  to  them  and  une.\- 
pected  by  them  (Mk  1"  '2^'^&-''  etc.). 

Had  it  been  found  that  He  knew  all  human 
knowledge  (e.g.  reading,  writing,  arithmetic)  with- 
out any  instruction,  there  would  have  been  a 
contradiction  to  the  above  facts.  The  <roipla  then 
was  (as  we  should  exjiect  in  this  Hebraistic  pas- 
sage) the  opposite  to  '  folly '  in  the  OT  sense.  As 
each  fresh  experience  of  life,  each  external  diffi- 
culty (perhaps  temptation)  from  His  environment 
came  on,  pari  passu,  with  His  growth,  there  was 
heavenly  wisduiu  to  meet  it.  Tact,  gentleness, 
veracity,  the  '  soft  answer,'  were  the  sort  of  things 
which  distin-uished  Him  from  other  lads,  and  not 
miraculous  knowledge,  or  miraculous  power  such 
as  is  described  in  the  Apocryphal  Gospels. 

'And  the  grace  of  God  was  upon  him.'  God's 
favour  was  clearly  upon  Him,  as  had  been  foretold 
in  Is  IP-  \  Men  noticed  (Jn  1")  that  He  was  full 
ot  grace  and  truth.     But  we  must  remember  that 

•  Jhe  reading  is  doubtful.    Treg.  and  WH  prefer  irofm,  and 
gave  it  in  his  margin,  supported  by  N=BL  pi;  and 
the  more  unusual  construction,  may  be  right. 
VOL.  I.  — 15 


it  was  a  gift  to  His  human  nature,  and  therefore 
words  are  used  which  are  used  of  His  brethren 
{e.g.  Ac  6"*  "Zricpavoi  Si  w\r)pvi  xap'^os).  At  the  end 
of  the  next  section  St.  Luke  (2°-)  tells  how  He 
progressed  in  favour  (xa/)is)  also  with  men. 

'And  /lis  parents  locnt  every  year  to  Jerusalem 
at  the  feast  of  the  Passover '  (Lk  2^').  From  our 
Lord's  own  presence  at  other  feasts,  both  of  Divine 
and  human  appointment,  and  from  the  large 
crowds  at  them,  we  are  led  to  reject  the  idea  that 
pious  Jews  at  this  time  went  to  Jerusalem  only  for 
the  Passover.  No  doubt  the  greatest  attendance 
was  at  that  feast,  and  those  who  could  attend  only 
one  probably  chose  it.  Jews  resident  outside  the 
Holy  Land  seem,  probably  on  account  of  tlie  more 
favourable  season  for  travelling,  to  have  pre- 
ferred Pentecost  (Ac  2i-"  18-'  20'"  21='  24'8,  1  Co 
16").  We  think  it  probable,  therefore,  that  the 
emphatic  words  of  the  sentence  are  oi  7o>'ers. 
Joseph  mat/  liave  gone  at  other  .seasons  ;  at  this 
season  Mary  usually  {iiropeijoi>To,  imperfect  of 
'  habit ')  accompanied  him.  Women  were  not 
bound  to  attend  any  feast  (Dt  16"^ '  all  thy  males '). 
Jn  7"-  '*■'"  show  that  the  '  brethren  of  the  Lord ' 
attended  the  feast  of  Tabernacles,  which  may  be 
an  indication  of  what  Joseph's  custom  was.  But 
if  women  went  to  any  one  feast,  it  would  be,  if 
jjossible,  to  the  Passover,  partly  because  it  was  the 
most  esteemed,  partly  because  the  Supper  (both 
sacrificial  and  social)  was  an  essential  element  in 
it,  and  partly  because  of  the  examples  of  Peninnah 
and  Hannah  (1  S  I''' '•='). 

In  Lk  2^-  we  are  told  of  Christ  going  with  them. 


The  mention  of  His  age  may  be  made  only  in  order 
to  mark  at  what  period  of  His  life  the  incident 
which  follows  occurred.  The  commentators,  etc., 
lay  great  stress  on  His  having  become  a  '  son  of 
the  Law'  or  a  'son  of  the  Precept,'  and  represent 
this  Passover  visit  to  Jerusalem  as  a  sort  of  '  First 
Communion'  after  a  sort  of  'Confirmation.'  The 
whole  of  the  legislation  about  the  bar-mizvah 
dates  after  the  destruction  of  the  Jewish  polity 
in  A.D.  70  (cf.  Schurer,  HJP  11.  ii.  51  f.).  There 
may  have  been  earlier  traces  of  it  in  Pharisaic 
Judoean  circles.  Besides,  when  a  definite  age  for 
'full  membership'  of  the  Jewish  conununity  was 
fixed,  it  was  at  thirteen,  and  not  at  twelve  years 
of  age.  The  current  views  would  never  have  been 
brought  forward,  but  for  the  assumption  by  the 
elder  Lightfoot  and  others  that  in  this  Talmudic 
rule  we  find  the  explanation  of  the  mention  of  our 
Lord's  age. 

Moreover,  are  there  any  Biblical  grounds  for 
supposing  that  a  child  of  five,  or  ten,  or  any  other 
age,  miwht  not  be  present  at  the  Passover,  and  eat 
of  the  Paschal  lamb  ?  E.\  12^-  ^  rather  implies  the 
contrary,  for  if  all  children  under  thirteen  were 
excluded,  few  households  would  be  large  enough 
to  consume  a  yearling  lamb.  If  the  custom  of  the 
present  Samaritans  is  any  guide,  it  is  stated  that 
even  little  girls  eat  of  the  lamb  (cf.  J.  E.  H. 
Thomson  in  PEFSt,  1902,  p.  91). 

But  if  it  was  our  Lord's  first  Passover  (which 
St.  Luke  does  not  say),  we  can  find  another  reason 
than  the  ajje  He  had  reached  for  the  previous 
omission.  Herod  the  Great  had  tried  to  kill  the 
Child,  Archelaus  was  considered  by  Joseph  to  be 
as  dangerous,  and  therefore  Jesus  was  kept 
out  of  his  dominions.  Now  Archelaus  was  in 
exile;  in  759  A.U.C.  a  Roman  governor  had  been 
appointed  over  Judiea,  and  Roman  law  and  justice, 
however  defective  at  times,  at  least  ensured  safety 
for  the  Boy  who  had  been  sought  for  ten  or  eleven 
years  before  as  an  Infant.  Of  course,  it  is  possible 
that  the  later  Jewish  rule  prevailed  in  Christ's  day, 
but  it  does  not  appear  to  us  to  be  proved,  either 


226 


BOYHOOD  OF  JESUS 


BOYHOOD  OF  JESUS 


from  St.  Luke's  words,  or  from  any  contemporary 
or  earlier  source. 

What  did  our  Lord  do  at  Jerusalem?  The 
Biblical  accounts  of  the  Passover  ritual  are  mainly 
conlined  to  the  first  or  Egyptian  Passover.  This 
differed  naturally  from  later  ones  in  some  respects, 
and  in  others  a  difference  had  been  made  by  litur- 
gical regulations.  For  instance,  tlie  eating  of  the 
lamb  in  a  recumbent  instead  of  a  standing  posture 
was  a  change  (Ex  12",  1  S  1^  'rose  up,'  Lk22''-  '^ 
etc. ).  So  were  the  psalms,  the  prayers,  the  bless- 
ings, the  four  cups  of  wine,  and  other  well-known 
customs.  One  of  the  best  popular  accounts  of  the 
Jewish  ritual  is  in  Bickell's  Messe  und  Pascha, 
of  which  an  English  version  by  Dr.  Skene  has 
appeared.  He  riglitly  states  tliat  our  oldest  source 
is  as  late  as  the  end  of  the  2nd  cent.  A.D.,  with 
large  additions  from  the  lltli  to  the  16th  centuries 
(p.  112  f.  Eng.  tr.).  Bickell  also  points  out  that 
'  the  Paschal  Lamb  was  an  actual  offering.  It  was 
slain  in  the  Temijle,  its  blood  was  sprinkled  by  the 
priest  on  the  altar,  its  flesh  was  consumed  as  a 
sacrificial  meal.  Therefore,  after  the  destruction 
of  Jerusalem,  when  the  Temple  service  .  .  .  came 
to  an  end,  it  could  no  longer  be  eaten. 

'  The  same  thing  is  true  of  the  Chagiga,  the  meat 
of  a  slain  thank-ottering,  which  was  wont  to  be 
previously  brouglit  with  the  Passover  Supper.' 
And  we  must  remember  tliat  the  ritual  was  prob- 
aV)ly  not  written  down  while  it  was  a  '  living  rite.'  * 
The  earliest  wTitten  sources  are  based  on  an  oral 
tradition  of  what  had  been  done  a  century  before. 

We  may  reverently  conjecture  our  Lord's  medi- 
tations :xs  He  saw  the  lamb  sacrificed,  and  satdown 
to  tlie  Keast.  The  death  of  the  lamb  was  a  figure 
of  His  ovra  death.  The  feast  shadowed  forth  His 
feeding  HLs  i)eople.  Did  He  as  yet  know  of  His 
destiny?  Perhaps  it  was  beginning  to  unfold 
itself  to  His  human  consciousness  (1)  by  His  glow- 
ing knowledge  of  His  nation's  religion,  history, 
and  sacred  books ;  (2)  by  His  mother's  telling  Him 
some  of  the  incidents  of  His  birth  and  infancy ; 
(3)  by  the  inner  unveiling  of  His  Divine  nature 
to  His  human  nature.  We  can  only  conjecture. 
But  His  answer  to  Joseph  and  Mary  (Lk  2^)  imijlies 
some  self-knowledge,  and  perliaps  a  step  in  the 
acquirement  of  that  self  -  knowledge  and  con- 
sciousness. 

On  anotlier  point  we  are  on  surer  ground.  At 
the  Paschal  feast  it  was  customary  for  the  youngest 
present  to  ask,  '  Why  is  this  ni<,^ht  different  from 
all  other  nights?'  adding  a  mention  of  some  of  the 
ritual  acts.  'What  mean  ve  \ty  this  service?' 
(E.\  12=8  137.  8^  Dt  QW)  And  the  head  of  the  house- 
hold or  company  replied  by  a  recapitulation  of  the 
history  of  the  Exodus,  which  in  later  times  was 
called  the  Eastern  Haggada.  No  doubt  our  Lord 
followed  this  custom,  and  no  doubt  also  Joseph 
gave  the  explanation,  either  in  tlie  traditional 
words  as  handed  down  to  the  modern  Jews,  or  in 
a  freer,  perhaps  a  fuller  manner  (cf.  Ex  12-*'  13*, 
Dt  6='-25  265-» ;  cf.  Bickell,  Eng.  tr.  pp.  118-120). 
Other  details  of  the  Passover  ritual  in  the  time 
of  Christ,  such  as  the  sop,  the  cups  of  wine,  and 
the  singing  of  tlie  Great  (or  third  or  final)  llallel, 
are  vouched  for  by  the  accounts  of  tlie  Last  Supper 
given  by  the  Evangelists  and  by  St.  Paul.f  See 
art.  Passover. 

*  Compare  the  usual  view  of  the  earliest  liturgies.  We  will 
not  therefore  dwell  on  the  Jewish  accounts  of  the  ecclesiastical 
amplifications  of  the  Scriptural  order,  and  still  less  on  mwiern 
Jewish  use.  But  the  present  Samaritan  customs  (mode  of 
dressing  the  lamb,  the  spit  in  form  of  a  cross,  the  mode  of 
roasting,  etc.)  are  very  probably  similar  to  the  Jewish  rites 
before  the  destruction  of  the  Temple.  Cf.  J.  E.  H.  Thomson  in 
PEFSt,  1902,  Jan.  pp.  82-92,  and  Expos.  Times,  xi.  [190U1  375 
(very  interesting),  and  other  accounts  by  Dean  Stanley,  Mills, 
i'etermann,  Vartan,  in  Baedeker's  Palestine  and  Suria,  etc. 

t  Many  writers  who  mention  the  Great  Ilallcl  ignore  the 
various  accounts  as  to  the   Psalms  which 


'  When  f/fii  h^nl  fnlfiUcd  the  days'  (reXeii 
xds  ifixipa^).  ( luf  I'ii-t  impression  is  undoubtedly 
tliiit  tlie  w  hull-  A.  ,-,  „  ,lays  of  the  Feast  (Ex  23"  etc.') 
are  meant.  We  .--liuuld  expect  j)ious  Jews,  like 
.Joseph  and  ^lary,  to  remain  the  whole  time,  not 
because  it  was  a  precept,  but  out  of  devotion. 
'  It  was  more  laudable  to  remain  the  whole  seven 
days,  especially  on  account  of  the  last  day,  which 
was  a  Feast  Day '  (Lightfoot ;  cf .  Ex  12'«).  Eders- 
Iieim  (Life  and  Times  of  Jesus  the  Messiah,  i.  247) 
argues  that  Joseph  and  Mary  set  out  for  home 
before  the  close  of  the  Feast,  because  the  "Talmud 
says  that  'during  Feasts'  (not  after  them)  'the 
members  of  the  Temple  Sanhedr'in  came  out  on 
to  the  terrace  and  taught  the  people,  contrary  to 
the  usual  custom  of  sitting  as  a  court  of  appeal,' 
and  he  thinks  that  Christ  was  there.  In  dealing 
with  this  suggestion  we  have  to  notice  the  expres- 
sion TeXeiuiaavTav  rds  Tj/ne/ias  instead  of  the  lis  (Srf ) 
(wXriadTjcav  ai  ruiipai.  of  Lk  1^  2*  2='-  —,  and  ivXriadri 
b  xp^vos  of  Lk  1".  The  two  words  are  sometimes 
synonymous  in  effect,  but  the  distinction  between 
them  has  been  defined  as  follows :  '  TeXaovv  is  to 
complete  so  that  notliing  remains  to  be  done,  but 
tlie  thing  or  work  is  TiXewv ;  it  implies  an  end  or 
object  (reXos)  to  be  looked  forward  to  and  fullj' 
attained.  irXypovp  looks  at  the  quantity  to  be 
done,  not  at  the  end  to  be  reached,  and  so  is  to 
fill  a  thinw  fuU,  so  that  it  lacks  nothing.'  St. 
Luke's  words  are  therefore  perhaps  compatible  witli 
Joseph  and  Mary  having  left  on  the  third  day,  the 
so-c!uled  half-holiday,  when  it  was  lawful  to  return 
liome,  but  we  prefer  (in  spite  of  Edersheim's  Tal- 
mudical  argument)  to  think  tliat  they  '  stayed  to 
the  end'  of  the  Feast.  It  might  be  said,  however, 
by  those  who  believe  in  the  earlier  return,  that 
our  Lord's  staying  behind  was  a  tacit  rebuke, 
esjiecially  if  ev  toU  toO  varpos  /lov  (Lk  2'')  be  taken 
in  a  local  sense.  St.  Luke's  use  of  the  sinijjle  indveiv 
in  the  Gospel  and  Acts  should  be  noted  :  the  com- 
pound occurs  only  here  and  in  Ac  17"  in  his  writ- 
ings: and  in  the  latter  case  it  is  also  used  in 
contrast  to  Paul's  departure.  St.  Luke,  however, 
does  nat  s,ay  that  J._-sus  remained  for  any  such 
reason,  nor  "that  .losepli  and  Maiy  lost  sight  of 
Him  through  any  faihne  of  duty.  Popular  books 
add  much  to  the  narrative. 

All  the  pilgrims  used  to  go  to  the  Temnle  on  the 
day  of  their  departure,  by  a  rule  possibly  based 
on'l  S  1".  There  would  be  a  preat  crowd,  and  the 
temporary  separation  of  a  family  in  the  colonnades 
and  on  the  steps  would  be  (as  in  great  public 
gatherings  now)  a  natural  occurrence,  causing 
little  alarm.  Possibly  Joseph  and  Mary  joined 
their  fellow-travellers  from  Galilee,  in  the  belief 
that  the  Child,  who  would  know  the  time  and 
point  of  departure,  was  amon"  the  younger  pil- 
grims. The  little  fear  they  felt  on  the  first  day 
(Lk  2")  rather  supports  the  view  mentioned  above, 
that  it  was  not  Jesus'  first  Passover. 

Our  Lord's  '  parents'  {yoveU,  Lk  2"—'  Joseph  and 
his  mother'  is  a  correction  in  the  interests  of 
orthodox  dogma),  being  ignorant  of  His  having 
stayed  behind,  went  therefore  a  day's  journey 
towards  home.     As  we  do  not  know   the   route 


they  travelled  by,   it  is  impossible  to  say   that 
'as    far    as   Beeroth   (Farrar,   Life  of 
others).    Jericho  is  quite  as  j 
resting-pla 


they 

Christ,  and  others), 


The  search  among  the  kinsfolk  and  acquaint- 
ances being  in  vain,  they  returned  to  Jerusalem, 
and  found  Him  'after  three  days'  (probably  from 

Bickell,  pp.  126,  127.  They  are  not  justified  in  saj-ing  which 
Psalm  or  Psalms  our  Lord  used.  Ps.  136  has  the  general  sup- 
port. The  Babylonian  Gemara  mentions  Ps  23.  The  114th 
Psalm,  which  Christian  tradition  (cf.  the  name  of  its  tune, 
'Peregrinus')  connects  with  the  Passover,  cannot  have  been 
the  one  mentioned  (Mt  2630),  as  its  use  occurred  be/ore  the  actual 
supper  (Bickell,  p.  120).    See  art.  Hallel. 


BOYHOOD  OF  JESUS 


BOYHOOD  OF  JESUS 


the  time  of  separation).  We  need  not  inquire 
whether  tliis  expression  means  '  on  the  third  day ' 
{fiera  ijfi^pas  rpciy,  cf.  Mk  8"**  fi€Ta  rpets  T}^pat),*  Tlie 
search  on  the  road  Ijack  to  and  in  Jerusalem  was  a 
thorough  one  (di/afTjroPi'Tfs).  Tliere  must  have  been 
many  persons  who  cunhl  be  inquired  of  witli  safety, 
persons  in  sympathy  with  tlie  pious  liopes  of  Simeon 
and  Anna  (Lk  2-'"^*'),  tliough  these  had  jirobably 
passed  away.  It  is  St.  Luke  who  tells  us  {2^)  that 
tliere  was  a  group  of  pious  persons,  who  looked  for 
the  redemption  of  Jerusalem.f  As  this  refers  to 
a  period  only  twelve  years  previous,  Joseph  and 
Mary  could  easily  find  some  of  these  residents  of 
Jerusalem,  even  if  the  connexion  had  not  been 
kept  up  in  tlie  yearly  Passover  visits  (Lk  2^').  We 
think  that  the  reason  for  Joseph  and  Mary  spend- 
ing at  least  a  day  in  Jerusalem  before  going  up  to 
the  Temple,  was  that  they  and  our  Lord  were  well 
known  to  this  group  of  persons,  and  that  they 
tliought  of  Him  as  possibly  among  friends  at  Jeru- 
salem, just  as  they  liad  tliought  it  i)ossible  on  the 
tiist  day  of  the  separation  tliat  He  was  among 
the  pilgrims. 

Christ  in  the  Temple. — 'And  it  came  to  pass, 
after  three  days  they  found  him  in  the  temple, 
sitting  in  the  midst  of  the  doctors  (RVm  '  or 
teachers'),  both  hearing  them,  and  asking  them 
questions'  (Lk  2^).  By  being  present  at  the 
meeting  of  the  Kabbis,  Christ  was  obeying  the 
counsel  of  Ben  Sira  (Sir  6'^"^^),  which  was  possibly 
a  commonplace  piece  of  instruction  in  pious  Israelite 
families. 
*  stand  thou  in  the  multitude  of  the  elders  ; 

And  whoso  is  wise,  cleave  thou  unto  him, 

Be  willing  to  listen  to  every  godly  discourse  ; 

And  let  not  the  proverbs  of  understanding  escape  thee. 

If  thou  seest  a  man  of  understanding,  get  thee  betimes  unto 

And  let  thy  foot  wear  out  the  steps  of  his  doors.' 
A  discussion  has  been  raised  as  to  the  meaning 
of  '  in  the  midst '  (^^  i^-^irv).  It  is  usually  thought 
that  Clirist  sat,  as  scholars  did,  on  the  floor,  with 
the  Rabbis  on  a  raised  bench  or  divan,  arranged 
perhaps  in  a  semicircle,  ^c  tiJj  /n^crifj  occurs  in  Ac 
4',  where  it  cannot  mean  more  than  '  present  in  a 
central  position  where  others  could  see  and  liear,' 
yet  apart  from  the  members  of  the  court.  Kuinoel 
watered  down  the  expression  here  to  '  in  the  same 
room  with  the  teachers.'  It  has,  however,  been 
suggested  that  the  Kabbis,  being  struck  by  the 
searchin"  power  of  the  questions  put  by  Chri.st, 
and  the  depth  of  knowledge  of  the  Law  which  they 
displayed,  invited  Him  to  take  a  seat  among  them- 
selves, as  a  mark  of  admiration,  as  well  as  for 
more  convenience  in  the  conversation.  If  this 
was  so,  their  action  would  be  somewhat  similar 
to  that  in  a  British  court  of  justice  where  a  dis- 
tinguished visitor,  or  even  witness,  is  sometimes 
complimented  by  an  invitation  to  '  take  a  seat  on 
the  Bench. '  It  is  said  that  members  of  the  Sanhe- 
drin  did  sometimes,  on  extraordinary  occasions, 
admit  an  inquirer  to  the  same  seat  as  themselves. 
It  would  be  a  probable  thing  to  do,  where  the 
youth  of  the  person  made  him,  as  in  this  case, 
liable  to  partial  concealment  among  older  and 
taller  bystanders. 

There  is  no  ground  for  supposing  that  Christ 
disputed  with  the  Kabbis.  It  is  clear  that  He  in 
nowise  offended  their  prejudices  on  this  occasion. 
All  that  He  said,  although  remarkable  for  His  age, 

*  The  mystical  school  of  interpreters  have  pointed  out  several 
parallels  to  this  period  :  (a)  Bengel  says  :  '  For  the  same  number 
of  days,  when  He  lay  in  the  grave.  He  was  considered  as  lost  by 
His  disciples  (Lk  2421).' 

(6)  Another  writer  says  beautifully :  '  Seeing  Mary  sigh  for 
three  days  for  her  Divine  Son,  I  see  again  humanity  during  the 
3000  years  of  paganism,  wandering  in  search  of  God.' 

t  So  RV  with  KB,  etc. ,  but  cf.  AV  and  AVm.  The  Vulgate  has 
the  more  easy  redeinptimem  Israel ;  Amiatinus :  Eierusalem, 
and  so  Peshitta. 


was  suitable  to  it.  The  mode  of  higher  religious 
teaching  among  the  Jews  seems  to  have  been 
neither  didactic  nor  catechetical,  but  by  mutual 
interrogation  between  the  teacher  and  the  scholar. 
Hence  tlie  freedom  used  by  the  disciples  and  others 
in  questioning  their  Teacher.  Christ  answered 
some  questions  and  put  others,  no  doubt  with  all 
marks  of  respect  to  those  who  '  sat  in  Moses'  seat ' 
(Mt  23=). 

What  led  to  Christ's  desire  to  interview  the 
Rabbis  at  all,  and  what  was  the  subject  of  His 
questions?  We  can  understand  His  intense  in- 
terest in  the  recently  celebrated  Feast,  its  history 
and  its  meaning.  Or,  building  on  His  previous 
knowledge  of  the  Law  and  the  Prophets,  and  on 
the  current  Messianic  hopes,  He  might  desire  to 
learn  from  the  Rabbis  about  the  Messiah  and  the 
Messianic  kingdom.  Questions  such  as  those  dis- 
cussed in  Mt  2^-  \  Mk  9",  Jn  7^^  would  be  raised 
and  would  interest  Him.  Lk  OQ-^- =«-'',  Mk  10= 
give  us  other  authentic  instances  of  the  points  dis- 
cussed by  the  Jewish  teachers  of  that  age.  It  has, 
moreover,  been  suggested  that  on  the  journey  up 
to  Jerusalem,  Mary  for  the  first  time  told  Him  the 
story  of  His  birth,  of  the  messages  of  the  angels, 
of  the  Magi,  of  Simeon,  of  Anna,  of  the  flight  into 
Egypt,  and  of  the  dreams  of  Joseph.  It  would  be 
an  overpowering  revelation,  for  which,  liowever, 
as  an  exceptional,  though  true  child.  He  would  be 
ready. 

We  are  in  the  realm  of  pure  conjecture,  but 
certainly  it  might  be  God's  way  of  revealing  to 
the  Divine  Child  a  part  of  the  truth  about  that 
Child's  nature  and  mission.  That  to  Him,  as  to 
the  Church,  to  the  world,  and  to  each  of  us,  the 
truth  should  come  '  by  divers  portions  and  in 
divers  manners'  (He  I')  is  a  conceivable,  and 
perhaps  the  most  probable  theory.  And  such  a 
revelation,  falling  on  an  unusually  gifted  soul 
(Lk  2*),  on  a  soul  infinitely  more  receptive, 
because  of  its  sinlessness  (Wis  T---  -^  etc.),  than  any 
other  soul  could  be,  would  quicken  into  energy 
His  whole  life.  If  this  were  so,  we  have  an  ade- 
quate exposition  of  our  Lord's  desires,  an  adequate 
explanation  of  His  action. 

'All  that  heard  him  were  amazed  (AV  astonished) 
at  his  understanding  and  his  answers '  (Lk  2'"). 
As,  later  on,  'never  man  so  spake'  (Jn  7^'),  so  now, 
never  child  so  spake.  Yet  as  in  the  later  case 
there  was  nothing  contrary  to  true  manhood,  so 
now  we  ought  not  to  think  of  anything  contrary 
to  true  boyhood.  It  is  worth  noting  that  while 
AV  has  'astonished'  for  the  feeling  of  the  by- 
standers (2"  i^laravTo)  and  'amazed'  for  that  of 
Joseph  and  Mary  (2^*  il,tw\a.yT)aav),  RV  simply 
reverses  the  terms.  The  former  word  is  often 
rendered  'beside  himself,'  'beside  themselves,'  but 
it  is  difficult  to  express  in  English  the  difference 
between  the  two  verbs.*  See  artt.  Amazement, 
Astonishment. 

In  spite  of  the  assembly  of  '  grave  and  reverend 
signiors,'  Mary's  feelings  were  at  once  vented  in 
audible  address  (elire)  to  her  Son :  '  Child  !  why 
hast  thou  thus  dealt  with  us  1  Behold,  thy  father 
and  I  have  sought  thee  sorrowing  ! '  Her  trouble 
overpowered  her  amazement.  No  doubt  they  were 
proud  of  Him  in  their  hearts,  but  Mary  thought  it 
necessary  mildly  to  chide  Him  for  having  caused 
them  so  much  anxiety.  We  say  'chide'  as  the 
nearest  expression  of  our  thought,  but  few  parents 
in  the  East  or  anywhere  else  would  speak  of  what 

•  For  liiirTivm,  cf.  Mt  1223,  Mk  212  321  542  661,  Lk  866  2422,  Ac 
27. 12  89- 11. 13  921  1015  1216,  2  Co  513  ;  and  for  U-rXiiirtM,  Mt  V28 
1354  19=5  2223,  Mk  122  62  737  1026  1118,  Lk  432  943,  Ac  1312.  The 
context  sometimes  offers  no  reason  for  the  choice  of  one  word 
rather  than  the  other.  The  latter  one  may  be  the  weaker  of 
the  two ;  in  Mt  1925,  Mk  1026  737  it  needs  an  adverb  to  strengthen 
it.  Etymological  arguments  cannot  be  pressed  vvith  regard  to 
the  popular  Greek  of  the  1st  century. 


228 


BOYHOOD  OF  JESUS 


BOYHOOD  OF  JESUS 


they  deemed  to  be  a  child's  error  so  courteously 
and  with  such  an  absence  of  'temper.'  We  notice 
that  it  was  Mary  who  spoke,  and  this  may  possibly 
be  urged  as  a  point  in  favour  of  the  orthodox  view 
of  the  'Virgin  Birth.'  If  Joseph  had  been  the 
natural  father  of  Christ,  he  would  have  spoken  to 
a  son  of  that  age,  at  least  in  addition  to  the 
mother.  His  silence  seems  to  us  to  balance  such 
expressions  as  'thy  father  and  I,'  or  'his  parents.'* 
Mary  joined  Joseph  with  herself  not  only  in  her 
account  of  the  continuous  careful  seeking  (ef>;- 
ToC/ifi-),  but  also  in  her  sorrow,  t 

We  now  come  to  our  Lord's  reply,  which  is  a 
veritable  crux  interpret  urn.  There  is  no  variant  in 
the  Greek  (Tt  in  i^tiTeiri  /ie;  oi)/c  pSeire  Sn  iv  rots  toC 
irarpis  iiov  Set  eTval  /if  ;).  Nor  is  there  any  doubt 
that  the  words  were  a  reminder  (with  a  slight  touch 
of  rebuke)  that  Joseph  was  not  His  father  (cf .  6  Tarrip 
<rouKdyi!i,  '2*^},  and  that  in  any  case  the  claims  of  His 
Divine  Fatlier  were  paramount.  The  principal  in- 
terpretations of  if  Tois  ToD  Trarpis  fiov  are  :  {a)  '  in  my 
Father's  house' ;  (6)  'about  my  Father's  business' ; 
(f)  'among  my  Father's  servants  and  friends' ;  {d) 
combinations  of  (a)  or  (b)  implying  an  intended 
vagueness.  The  Vulg.  is  in  hu  qiicepatris  inci  sunt ; 
the  Pesh.  supports  (re) '  in  my  Father's  house,'  having 
-  '  *^j  Zu_2j     [But  does  not  beth  support  (c)  as 

much?;  cf.  1  S  2^  etc.,  i.e.  by  Semitic  idiom 
'house'  (as  in  English)  may  mean  family,  con- 
nexions]. 

In  favour  of  («)  is  the  circumstance  that  ri  rivoi, 
which  strictly  means  '  that  which  is  a  person's 
property,'  came  to  be  used  specially  of  his  house, 
the  word  '  house '  bein^  omitted,  afield  and  Hum- 
phrey compare  the  colloquialism  '  I  am  going  to 
my  father's.'  In  profane  Greek  cf.  Herod,  i.  Ill,  iv 
Apirayov :  Philostratus,  Vita  Apollon.  ii.  28,  iv  toO 
pa<ri\4(jjs :  Lucian,  Philop.  iv  TXavKiov :  and  many 
other  cases  where  oTkos  or  rather  oU^imTo.  is  to  be 
understood.  L.  Bos,  who  collected  many  of  these 
instances  in  his  work  on  Greek  Ellipses,  held 
strongly  that  -Kpiynaaiv  ('business')  was  not  the 
word  to  be  supplied  here.  He  gave  (p.  193)  the 
same  explanation  of  Jn  1"  (16^-  19=')  and  Ac  21«, 
but  in  these  we  find  to.  tSta.  In  the  LXX,  cf.  Est  7" 
Kal  iipdarat  iv  To7s'Afiav  ivXov,  k.t.X.  :  Gn  41°'  where 
TavToiv  tQv  toO  iraTpds  /xov  represents  the  MT  'all 
my  father's  house,'  and  Job  18'".  On  the  other 
hand,  the  supjxirters  of  («)  say  that  no  example 
has  been  produced  in  Biblical  or  profane  Greek 
for  '  to  be  about  a  person's  business '  as  a  render- 
ing of  (Ivai  iv  Tois  Tivos,  though  it  is  admitted  that 
iv  ToiVois  iVfli  (1  Ti  4")  approaches  it  closely. 
Origen,  Epiphanius,  Theodoret,  Theophylact,  and 
Euthymius  show  a  chain  of  commentators,  ex- 
plaining a  passage  in  their  mini  language,  who  take 
it  in  the  sense  of  '  house.'  Sir  42'"  iv  rots  irarpiKoh 
aiir^s  (Vulg.  inpaternis  suis)  also  seems  to  support 
it. 

Against  this,  and  in  favour  of  (i),  it  has  been 
said  that  Christ  did  not  mean  to  say  '  I  could  not 
return,  I  was  in  the  Temple  of  God,'  but  '  My 
Father's  business  is  the  most  important  thing  for 
Me.'    It  is  also  said  that  '  the  necessity  of  our 

*  Where  did  AKord  find  ground  for  sajing,  '  Up  to  this  time 
Joseph  had  been  so  called  C  father')  by  the  holy  ChUd  Himself. 
but  from  this  time  never '  ?    It  may  be  so,  but  it  is  not  recorded 

t  iiuiirem  occurs  f ou     ' ' 
and  nowhere  else  in  Nl 


:2039) 


seem  strong  enoi 

InLkl62J-25AVha 
of  the  sufferinirs  < 
presses  the  L'rit-f 


Luke  (here,  le^J  25, 
iT.  •Sorrowing'  (AV  and  RV)  does  not 
*With  intense  anguish'  is  rather  the 
.  Luke)  suggests  'with  aching  hearts.' 
>  be  tormented,'  but  RV  'to  be  in  anguish,' 
le  rich  man  in  Hades.     In  Ac  ■iff-'*  it  ex- 


Lord's  being  in  His  Father's  house  could  hardly  be 
intended  by  Him  as  absolutely  regulating  all  His 
movements,  and  determining  where  He  should  be 
found,  seeing  that  He  had  scarcely  uttered  the 
words  in  question  before  He  withdrew  with  Joseph 
and  Mary  from  that  house,  and  spent  the  next 
eighteen  years  substantially  away  from  it.  On 
the  other  hand,  the  claim  to  be  engaged  in  His 
Father's  concerns  had  doubtless  both  frequently 
been  alleged  explicitly  in  respect  of  the  occupation 
of  His  previous  home  life,  and  continued  to  be  so 
during  the  subsequent  periods  of  His  eighteen 
years'  subjection  to  the  parental  rule ;  His  acknow- 
ledgment of  that  claim  being  in  nowise  intermitted 
by  His  withdrawal  with  His  parents  from  His 
Father's  house.  Intimations  oi  a  more  general 
kind  seem  '  easily  capable  of  being  read  between 
the  lines  of  the  inspired  narrative,  which  increase 
the  probability  that  the  AV,  rather  than  the  KV, 
expresses  the  meanin"  of  the  Evangelist'  (Dr.  R. 
E.  Wallis).  It  should  also  be  noted  that  the  ex- 
pression 'my  Father's  house'  occuis  in  J n  2'^  in 
plain  terms. 

In  favour  of  (c)  we  may  quote  the  words  of  Jul. 
Doderlein  (Ncues  Jahrbuch  fur  deutsche  Theologie, 
1892,  i.  204):  '"In  My  Father's  house"  is  not 
correct:  Christ  soon  leaves  the  Temple.  "Busi- 
ness "  is  little  better.  .  .  .  Joseph  and  Mary  could 
hardly  have  been  expected  to  understand  that 
their  child  had  special  work  to  do  for  God's  king- 
dom' (i.e.  at  that  age).  .  .  .  'Had  they  sought 
Him  among  the  good,  they  would  not  have  needed 
to  seek  long.  Instead  of  this,  they  sought  Him  iv 
Tots  (TvyyevicTLV  Kal  roTs  yvaiaTois,  who  afterwards 
tried  to  cast  Him  down  from  the  hUl  (4='-  '■*),  and 
therefore  even  then  would  converse  little  about 
God's  word :  on  the  other  hand.  He  was  to  be 
found  iv  ToU  toD  iraTpds  fiou,  who  held  the  office  of 
the  Word  (Mt  23-),  and  as  such  gladly  listened  to 
His  eager  questions  .  .  .  the  masculine,  so  to 
sjieak,  has  the  first  claim  on  the  tois,  which  is 
formed  from  oi,  not  from  rd.  There  is  no  mention 
of  things  in  the  context.  .  .  .  In  Ko  12'"  Luther, 
AV  and  RVni  give  the  masculine,  "  tliera  of  low 
estate."  1  Co  12i'  15=8,  Col  3"  Tavra  iv  Tra(riv  = 
"all  things  in  all  men,"  not  "all  things  in  all 
things."  In  Lk  2"  no  one  would  render  iv  tois 
7i'u<rTors,  "in  the  kno^vn  places."  Again  the  fie 
at  the  end  of  the  phrase  seems  to  be  antithetical 
and  emphatic.  "  Among  those  of  My  Father  must 
/not  be?"  .  .  .  Not  in  •wha.t  j>lace,  but  in  what 
company  He  must  be,  the  anxious  ones  are  able 
to  learn  once  for  all  .  .  .  "where  men  speak  of 
God,  I  shall  surely  be  found"'  (cf.  a  review  in 
The  Thinker,  1893,  iii.  171  fl'.).  We  think  this 
explanation  deserves  more  consideration  than  it 
has  received. 

The  syncretic  combination  of  (a)  and  (b),  as,  e.g., 
by  Alford  and  others,  does  not  commend  itself  to 
the  present  writer.  Finally,  we  shouUl  not  forget 
that  this  conversation  is  one  of  the  most  likely 
ones  in  the  Gospels  to  have  been  held  in  Aramaic 
and  not  in  Greek.  It  will  therefore  be  wise  not 
to  lay  too  much  stress  on  the  analogies  quoted 
above  on  various  sides  of  the  question.  Even  tlie 
Greek  of  these  two  chapters,  as  we  have  it,  is  noted 
as  Semitic  in  style,  not  in  St.  Luke's  classical 
manner  (except,  of  course,  I'"').  The  Pesh. ,  as  we 
noticed  above,  supports  (a).  The  Sinaitic  palim- 
psest has  'Wist  ye  not  that  I  must  be  with  my 
Father?'  (Exoos.  Times,  xii.  [1901]  p.  206).* 

Joseph  and  Mary  '  understood  not  the  saying 
which  he  spake  unto  them'  (Lk  2").     Therefore  He 

"  Besides  the  works  quoted  above,  the  reader  should  consult 
Field's  Otium  Noniceme,  Pars  Tertia  ;  Expository  Times,  x.  4»4 ; 
Farrar,  St.  LiiJce  in  Cambridge  Bible  for  Schools,  368,  369  (in 
which  he  abandons  the  view  taken  in  Life  of  Christ,  i.  78);  and 
most  reviews  and  criticisms  on  the  Revised  NT  generally. 


BOYHOOD  OF  JESUS 


BOYHOOD  OF  JESUS 


had  not  learned  this  from  them,  nor  from  other 
teacliers,  nor  had  He  previously  spoken  much,  if 
at  all,  of  the  Father.  Their  difficulty,  of  course, 
was  not  the  literal  question  of  "ranimar  which 
troubles  us.  It  was  that  they  did  not  so  realize 
the  spiritual  force  of  His  saying  (oi>  irw'^/cai'  t6 

Although  Joseph  and  Mary  understood  neither 
His  words,  nor  His  actions,  nor  Himself,  and 
although  His  words  and  actions  show  that  He  now 
knew  more  than  He  had  done  of  His  Father,  of 
Himself  and  of  His  mission,  yet  '  He  went  down 
with  them,  and  came  to  Nazareth  and  was  subject 
unto  them.'  As  W.  R.  Nicoll  says:  'He  went 
their  messages,  did  their  work,  humbled  Himself, 
as  if  this  episode  at  Jerusalem  had  never  been ' 
{The  Incarnate  Saviour,  p.  41).  The  twelve  years 
ol  hidden  life  were  followed  by  another  eighteen 
years  of  retirement.  Even  Nathanael,  living  at 
Cana,  a  few  miles  off,  had  not  heard  of  Him  (Jn 
146. 47)_  'We  may  be  sure  that  He  who  would  '  fulfil 
all  righteousness'  (Mt  3"*)  did  not  omit  the  yearly 
attendance  at  the  Passover,  and  other  feasts.  He 
had  at  least  to  lead  the  life  of  example  to  His 
family  and  to  His  fellow-townsmen.  Although 
we  do  not  think  that  He  or  His  were  bound  by  all 
the  rules  of  Pharisaic  or  of  later  Rabbinic  Judaism, 
we  may  be  sure  that  He  did  what  was  usual  among 
pious  Jews,  partly  because  He  would  obey  those 
who  sat  'in  Moses'  seat'  (Mt  23--^),  and  partly 
because,  like  His  future  Apostle  (Ro  14'",  1  Co 
8"  etc.).  He  would  put  no  stumbling-block  in 
anyone's  way  (Mt  17"). 

We  know  that  after  Christ's  ministry  began.  He 
spent  much  time  in  prayer,  usually  secret  and  for 
secrecy's  sake,  on  the  mountain  (Mt  14-^,  Mk  1^^ 
6«  Lk  3='  5'"  9>»-^-=3  111).  -vve  cannot  believe 
that  this  communion  with  His  Father  began  with 
His  ministry.  Yet  it  seems  unlikely  that  Christ 
in  His  early  childhood  would  have  followed  this 
custom.  May  we  date  it  from  His  return  to 
Nazareth  in  His  twelfth  year?  Then,  His  claim 
for  liberty  to  be  ^v  tois  toO  Trarpis  (duroC)  would  not 
seem  to  be  a  claim  which  either  lay  dormant  for 
eighteen  years  ('my  Father's  business')  or  which 
was  at  once  relinquished  (by  His  return)  and  only 
taken  up  at  intervals  ('my  Father's  house'),  in 
which  case  no  claim  for  liberty  was  needed.  More- 
over, '  His  Father's  business '  for  the  next  eighteen 
years  was,  as  the  event  proved,  preparation.  And 
this  is  just  what  Christ  did,  and  the  secret  prayer 
and  meditation  were  part  of  it.  If  this  custom 
began,  or  at  least  took  a  larger  part  in  His  life 
then,  we  can  reconcile  His  words  in  the  Temple 
with  His  life  in  the  following  years.  And  if 
'house'  instead  of  'business'  be  the  word  to  be 
supplied,  we  can  also  believe  that  He  knew  that 
the  whole  Universe  is  the  Father's  house  (Jn  14"), 
and  not  only  the  Temple  'made  with  hands.' 

It  must  also  be  noted  that  His  growth  'in 
wisdom '  implies  not  only  learning  by  prayer  and 
meditation,  and  learning  from  the  written  word, 
but  also  learning  from  observation  of  human  life. 
We  learn  by  these  three  sources,  and  He  was  made 
like  unto  His  brethren.  But  for  this  last  source  of 
learning,  time  and  the  attainment  of  greater  age 
are  required.  Did  He  know  when  His  active  work 
was  to  begin?  Moses  sinned  by  beginning  too 
soon,  but  Ignorance,  and  the  thought  that  the 
right  time  might  be  sooner  than  it  was,  would  be 
no  sin.  Yet  He  who  'was  in  all  points  tempted 
like  as  we  are,  yet  without  sin '  (He  4'^),  might  con- 
ceivably be  tempted  as  Moses  was.  We  tread  here 
on  difficult  ground,  and  our  ignorance,  our  desire 
not  to  err  from  the  Faith,  and  our  reverence  for  our 
Lord,  bid  us  say  no  more.  Meanwhile  He  did  His 
duty  in  retirement,  passing  from  boyhood  into 
manhood,  and  waiting  for  the  call   which  came 


later.  Was  the  non-appearance  of  the  forerunner 
(Mai  3')  the  sign  that  the  time  had  not  come,  and 
his  appearance  the  sign  that  the  time  was  fulfilled 
(Mk  1'^)? 

'And  his  mother  kept  all  these  sayings  in  her  heart' 
(Sierripu  occurs  in  NT  only  here  and  Ac  IS^'';  cf.  Gn 
37"  of  Jacob  concerning  Joseph,  o  Si  Trarrjp  oiiroO 
SicT-fipriaev  t6  pyjixa,  where  E  has  the  same  tense  as 
here  Sierijpei,  perhaps  by  assimilation).  But  Jacob 
lost  hope  (Gn  37'^),  while  Mary  kept  these  sayings 
in  her  heart.  It  was  a  close,  persistent,  faithful 
keeping,  but  a  keeping  in  silence,  even  when  it 
might  have  changed  the  attitude  of  His  kinsmen 
towards  Him,  or  indeed  have  saved  His  life.  She 
spoke,  no  doubt,  when  the  right  time  came.  Stress 
is  laid  on  her  faithfulness  and  meditation  also  in 
Lk  2"!'.  We  may  ask  whether  to.  pmara  included 
other  sayings  than  the  pijfia  of  Lk  2™.  The  TrdvTo. 
of  some  MSS  in  the  place  of  the  TaOra  of  others 
leads  us  to  think  either  of  other  sayings  of  Christ, 
or  of  the  remarks  of  the  Rabbis  and  others  about 
Him  (as  in  Lk  2'^).  And  though  He  '  was  subject 
unto  them,'  the  goodness  of  Joseph  and  Mary,  His 
own  wisdom  and  advancing  years,  and  now  the 
deepened  thoughts  Mary  had  about  Him,  would 
surely  prevent  their  making  His  subjection  an 
obstacle  or  a  hindrance  to  His  development. 

Again  we  read  of  His  progress  (Lk  2^'),  though 
this  refers  to  a  time  beyond  the  Boyhood.  The 
statement  about  wisdom  is  a  continuation  of  that 
in  2^".  The  next  word  i]\iKi<f  is  ambiguous.  If  we 
take  the  meaning  '  stature '  (AY  and  RV  text),  it 
applies  only  to  a  part  of  the  time  between  twelve 
years  of  age  and  thirty.  But  the  margin  of  AY 
and  RY  'age'  would  seem  to  be  preferable. 
Though  increase  in  age  is  as  inevitable  as  increase 
in  stature,  yet  St.  Luke,  having  spoken  of  Christ's 
twelfth  year,  goes  on  to  speak  of  His  thirtieth, 
and  characterizes  by  his  transitional  passage  the 
whole  of  those  eighteen  years  as  a  period  of  de- 
velopment. He  cannot  mean  our  thoughts  to  stop 
at  the  period  when  adult  height  was  reached.  The 
advance  in  i^XiKi'a  must  grammatically  have  the 
same  duration  as  the  advance  in  wisdom,  and  in 
favour  with  God  and  man.* 

2.  Dogmatic  conclusions. — The  doctrines  of  the 
Incarnation,  of  the  Union  of  the  two  Natures  in 
one  Person,  and  of  the  Kenosis  are  beyond  the 
limits  of  this  article,  though  it  is  impossible  to 
avoid  bearing  them  in  mind  in  dealing  with  our 
subject.  But  an  exegetical  study  of  Lk  2'"'-«' 
shows  a  genuine  human  development  of  Christ  in 
His  boyhood.  Body,  soul  and  spirit  made  regular 
progress.  With  other  children  it  is  often  the 
irregularity  which  troubles  their  older  friends. 
Childishness  (in  the  bad  sense),  where  we  expect 
some  measure  of  intelligence ;  stupidity,  which  is 
sometimes  the  result  of  imperfect  mental  growth, 
and  sometimes  the  result  of  the  childish  sins  of 
laziness  and  self-will,  are  the  common  faults  of 
children.  Later  on,  the  desire  tiot  to  be  subject  to 
parental,  or  other  restraint,  and  the  premature 
longing  for  freedom  (not  necessarily  for  evil)  are 
marks  of  sinful  imperfection  which  we  all  recog- 
nize. Christ  was  free  from  them.  When  He  was 
a  child  He  lived,  spake,  and  no  doubt  thought  as  a 
child,  but  as  a  sinless  one.  The  awakening  of  the 
human  consciousness  was  gradual.  As  Oosterzee 
(on  Lk  2)  says  :  '  His  recognition  of  Himself  (we 
add  'and  of  His  mission')  formed  part  of  His 
filling  with  wisdom.  His  public  ministry  did  not 
begin  with  a  su<lden  impulse,  but  was  prepared  for 

*  Mere  comparisons  with  otiier  passages,  even  in  ttiis  Gospel, 
cannot  outweigh  the  above  considerations.  In  lE)^*  no  doubt 
the  stature  of  Zacchgeus  is  referred  to ;  Vl'^  and  Mt  G-'7  are 
doubtful.  In  Eph  4"  'stature'  is  probably  right.  Jn  921'23 
and  certainly  He  11"  mean  '  age.'  In  the  LXX,  Ezk  1318,  2  Mac 
4*),  Job  2918  seem  to  bear  the  same  meaning.  But  Symmochus 
in  Ca  7^  must  have  meant '  stature.' 


230 


BKASS 


BREAD 


by  His  whole  life.  It  was  the  forgetting  or  over- 
looking this  which  led  some  early  heretics  to  date 
the  Incarnation  from  the  Baptism.  But  we  see 
that  at  the  age  when  chUdliood  passes  into  youth, 
Christ  was  already  aware  (in  part  perhaps)  of  His 
mission.'  'The  consciousness  of  His  Divine  Nature 
and  power  grew,  and  ripened,  and  strengthened, 
until  the  time  of  His  showing  unto  Israel.' 

Those  who  in  times  of  controversy  have  most 
firmly  held  the  Divinity  of  Christ  have  sometimes 
found  a  difficulty  in  admitting  the  ideas  of  growth 
and  development  in  our  Lord.  Tliis  was  specially 
so  in  the  time  before  the  careful  .statements  of  the 
Great  Councils  and  the  Fathers  of  that  period.  So 
Epiphanius  (Htcy.  li.  20)  states  that  'some  Catho- 
lics were  inclined  to  admit  the  miracles  of  the 
Infancy  (as  in  tlie  Apocr.  Gospels)  as  affording  an 
argument  against  the  Cerinthians,  and  a  proof 
that  it  was  not  at  His  Baptism  that  Christ  was 
first  united  to  the  man  Jesus.'  Jeremy  Taylor 
(Life  of  Christ,  pt.  i.  §  7)  has  a  passage  which  is 
worth  quoting :  '  They  that  love  to  serve  God  in 
hard  questions  use  to  dispute  whether  Christ  did 
truly,  or  in  appearance  only,  increase  in  Avisdom. 
For,  being  personally  united  to  the  Word,  and 
being  the  Eternal  Wisdom  of  the  Father,  it  seemed 
to  them  that  a  plenitude  of  Wisdom  was  as  natural 
to  the  whole  Person  as  to  the  Divine  Nature.  But 
others,  fixing  their  belief  upon  the  words  of  the 
story,  which  equally  affirm  Christ  as  properly  to 
have  "  increased  in  favour  with  God  as  with  man, 
in  favour  as  in  stature,"  they  apprehend  no  incon- 
venience in  affirming  it  to  belong  to  the  verity  of 
human  nature,  to  have  degrees  of  understantling 
as  well  as  of  other  perfections  ;  and  although  the 
humanity  of  Christ  made  up  the  same  Person  with 
the  Divinity,  yet  tliey  think  the  Divinity  stUl  to 
be  free,  even  in  those  communications  which  were 
imparted  to  the  inferior  Nature,  and  the  Godhead 
might  as  well  suspend  the  emanation  of  all  the 
treasures  of  -wisdom  upon  the  humanity  for  a  term, 
as  He  did  the  beatifical  vision,  which  certainly 
was  not  imparted  in  the  interval  of  His  sad  and 
dolorous  passion.' *     See  art.  CHILDHOOD. 

LiTBRATraB. — ^The  works  named  in  the  preceding  article  and 
those  quoted  above.  On  the  dogmatic  problem  see  Hooker, 
Eccles.  Polity,  v.  hi.  10,  liv.  6  ;  Thomas  Aquinas,  Summa,  Pars 
Tertia,  QuEBStiones  7-12;  Dorner,  History  of  the  Development 
«/  the  Doctrine  of  the.  Person  of  Christ,  on  the  true  growth  of 
the  Humanity,  Division  n.  vol.  i.  45,  343 ;  vol.  ii.  89.  125, 139, 
204,  213,  214.  281,  285,  287,  365,  36S,  432  ;  vol.  iii.  18,  20,  30,  127, 
140,  147,  266.  On  the  Apocrj-phal  stories  of  the  Bovhood  see 
Trench,  Miracles,  Introd.  iv.  2;  Nicolas,  Etude  sur' leg  Evan- 
giles  Apocryphes,  Paris,  1865  ;  also  the  '  Lives  of  Christ '  and  the 
Commentaries  on  St.  Luke. 

The  fact  that  the  passage  Lk  l^"-  is  the  liturgi.-al  Gospel  for 
the  first  Sunday  after  the  Epiphany  in  the  Anglic.™  and  Roman 
liturgies,  has  produced  a  mass  of  homiletical  and  devotional 
literature,  which  naturally  deals  more  with  the  spiritual  lessons 
of  the  Boyhood  of  Christ,  but  which  often  hi<  othfr  useful 
matter.  We  can  name  onh- a  s,:ifill  iiorri>,n  ,>f  11,1^  lii,.r.,t,,r.,  • 
Goulburn,  Gos/>e^  "' '' '  'V   '"  / 

cal  Gospels,  i.  13:.  <  ; 
after  the  Epiph.iri 
tians  18,  19,  20;  i;  - 
week,  i.  to  xii. ;  Hoiliu.  ii , ., 
Gordon  Calthrop,  in  t.niirrr,  1 
Jesus  Christ  the  Divine  Man, 

etc.  p.  16;  W.  R.  Nicoll,  ri.r   I.  i 

iii.;   Oodet,   'Life  of  Jesus  pr,   .    .  .  i,      ,  ,„ 

Thinker,  vii,  390-404;  F.  W.  l; ,!;,  r;  >„. _ ,     ,. 

175  fl.  ;  Expositor,  2nd  ser.  viii.  |lss4J  p.  17  IT.,  lib  s.r.  iv.  llbjl] 
p.  Iff.,  6th  ser.  ii.  (I895J  p.  69 ff. ;  Liddon,  Hampton  Lrct.»  p. 
456ff. ;  Farrar,  Christ  in  Art,  pp.  271-291. 

George  Farmer. 

BRASS. — AVherever  we  find  the  word  '  brass '  in 
the  EV,  we  may  be  reasonably  certain  that  copper 
or  bronze  is  intended.  Copper  was  universally 
used  by  the  ancients,  on  account  of  its  extreme 
ductility.  In  Bible  lands  it  was  mined  in  the 
region  of  Lebanon,  in  Edom,  in  tlie  .Sinaitic  pin- 
insula,    where    the   great    Egyptian    mines   were 

*  The  reference  in  the  last  sentence  is,  of  course,  to  Mt  27«, 


located,  and  in  the  isle  of  Cyprus.  Brass  is  a 
fictitious  metal,  an  alloy  of  copper  and  zinc; 
bronze  is  a  mixture  of  ooiiper  and  tin.  But  while 
in  ancient  ve.s.sels  a  combination  of  tin  Avith  copi«2r 
is  frequently  found,  analysis  hardly  ever  reveals 
the  2Jreseuce  of  zinc. 

1.  The  word  xuXkia  in  Mk  V  (found  here  only  in 
the  NT),  AV  and  RV  '  brasen  vessels,'  may  be  tr. 
'  copper  vessels,'  and  is  actually  so  rendered  in  the 
German  and  Dutch  versions. 

2.  The  noun  xaXf  6s,  tr.  '  brass,'  is  used  by  Christ 
in  Mt  10'  '  Get  you  no  gold  nor  silver  nor  brass 
in  your  purses,'  by  metonymy  for  copper  coin. 
xaXxAs  occurs  also  in  Mk  6*  12*',  where  it  is  tr. 
' money,' marg.  'brass.' 

3.  The  word  xa^KoXi^oj'o;',  white  copper,  tr.  '  fine 
brass'  (RV  'burnished  brass')  in  Rev  1'^  2"  (cf. 
Dn  10^),  is  descriptively  applied  to  the  feet  of 
Christ  as  He  appeared  in  the  vision  of  St.  John 
in  Patmos.  There  is  quite  a  diversity  of  opinion 
as  to  its  correct  meaning.  Some  have  supposed  it 
to  be  that  rare  metal,  more  precious  than  gold, 
Orichalcmn,  whilst  others  have  thought  of  frank- 
incense and  even  of  amber.  In  this  connexion  it 
evidently  refers  to  the  strength  and  stable  majesty 
of  the  glorified  Christ,  in  the  same  way  as  the 
Heb.  nehdsheth  is  used  in  the  OT  (Ps  107'S  Mic  4i3, 
Zee  6'). 

LrTERATtTEE.— Hastings'  DB,  art.'  Brass';  Smith,  Diet,  of 
Antiq.  s.v.  'Aes';  Grimm-Thayer,  Lex.  s.v.  j;«>.««A/3«.».. 

Henry  E.  Dosker. 
BREAD. — In  Syria  and  Palestine  there  are  cer- 
tain shrines  and  groves  that  have  been  preserved 
undisturbed  through  times  of  political  change,  and 
are  to-day  venerated  by  all  the  religions  of  the 
country.  Such  also  has  been  the  unchanged  history 
of  bread  in  Bible  lands.  It  is  to-day  practically  what 
it  has  always  been  with  regard  to  (1)  the  materials 
of  which  it  is  made,  (2)  the  way  in  which  it  is  pre- 
pared, (3)  its  importance  and  use  as  an  article  of 
food,  and  (4)  the  symbolism  and  sanctity  suggested 
by  its  value. 

1,  il/<(^r(«?s-.— Bread  is  usually  made  of  wheat 
flour,  the  wlicat  of  the  Syrian  plains  being  remark- 
able for  its  nutritious  quality.  An  inferior  and 
cheaper  kind  of  luead  is  also  made  from  barley 
flour,  and  less  frequently  the  meal  of  Indian  corn 
is  used. 

2.  Modes  of  preparation.— The  most  primitive 
way  is  that  of  making  a  hollow  in  the  ground, 
burning  twigs,  thorn-bushes,  thistles  and  dry  grass 
upon  it,  and  then  laying  the  flat  cakes  of  dough 
upon  the  hot  ashes.  These  loaves  are  about  seven 
inches  in  diameter  and  from  half  an  inch  to  an 
inch  in  thickness.  The  upper  surface  is  frequently 
studded  with  seeds  of  Indian  corn,  and  they  are 
generally  turned  in  the  process  of  baking  (Hos  7"). 
They  are  '  cakes  upon  the  liearth  '  (Gn  IS""),  '  baken 
niH.n  the  coals'  (1  K  17'--'').     Such  probably  were 

lir  liarley  loaves  brought  to  Christ  at  the  feeding 
It  he  five  thousand  ( Jn  6'- ").  Out  of  this  custom, 
I  rr\  .liliiis  ,imong  the  pastoral  tribesand  the  poorest 
it  I  hi   |i.  isantry,  were  developed  several  improved 

1  Im"1,  made  possible  by  more  civilized  conditions 

oi  liif.  o/)  Large  smooth  pebbles  were  laid  over 
till!  lioiiow  in  the  ground,  and  when  the  Ure  had 
been  kept  up  for  a  sufficient  time,  the  ashes  were 
removed  and  the  loaves  were  laid  upon  the  liot 
stones.— (6)  Thinner  cakes  of  both  leavened  and  un- 
leavened bread  were  made  upon  a  flat  pan  or  convex 
griddle.  These  are  now  made  especially  at  times 
of  religious  festival,  and  are  coated  on  the  upper 
surface  with  olive  oil  and  sprinkled  with  aromatic 
.seeds.  They  recall  tlif  ■  oil,..l  l.ivad "  of  Lv  8^,  and 
the  •  wafers  anointf'd  wiih  ..il  ..t  Ex  29- and  Lv 
2*. — (c)  The  cavity  for  iho  lin-  i-  ■lecpened,  and  a 
cylindrical  hole  about  tlic  size  of  lialf  a  flour  barrel 
is  made  of  stone  and  lime  with  a  facing  of  plaster. 


BREAD 


BREATHING 


The  pebbles  are  still  left  at  the  bottom  for  the 
better  preservation  of  the  heat,  and  the  same  fuel 
is  applied  till  the  oven  has  been  sufficientlj^  heated. 
Tlie  dough  is  then  rolled  out  into  broad  tliin  cakes, 
and  each  disc,  after  being  still  further  distended  by 
being  passed  with  a  quick  rotatory  motion  between 
the  hands  of  the  female  baker,  is  laid  on  a  convex 
cushion  or  pad,  and  is  tlms  transferred  evenly  to 
the  hot  wall  of  the  cavity.  In  a  moment  it  is 
lired,  and  as  it  begins  to  peel  otF  it  is  lifted  and 
laid  above  the  others  at  her  side.— (rf)  The  most 
developed  form  is  that  of  the  public  oven  in  the 
village  or  town.  Here  features  of  the  more  primi- 
tive types  still  survive,  but  the  cavity  now  becomes 
a  low  vaulted  recess  about  twelve  feet  in  length, 
and  the  pebbles  are  changed  into  a  pavement  of 
smoothed  and  squared  stones.  On  it  wood  and 
lighter  fuel  of  thorns  are  burnt,  and  the  glowing 
ashes  are  finally  brushed  to  each  side  of  the  vault. 
When  the  oven  has  been  tlius  prepared  the  discs 
of  dough  are  laid  in  rows  upon  long  thin  boards 
like  canoe  paddles,  and  are  inserted  by  these  into 
the  oven,  and  by  a  quick  jerk  of  the  arm  slipped 
otr  and  placed  upon  the  hot  imvement  to  be  tired. 
These  loaves,  when  fired,  are  about  an  inch  in 
thickness  and  about  eight  inches  in  diameter,  and 
when  newly  baked  are  soft  and  flexible. 

3.  Use  and  importance  of  bread. — In  the  West 
bread  is  eaten  more  or  less  along  with  the  other 
articles  of  food  that  chiefly  constitute  the  meal ; 
but  in  the  East  those  other  articles  are  rather 
eaten  along  with  bread,  and  are  regarded  as  merely 
accessory  to  it.  "When  the  farmer,  carpenter, 
blacksmith  or  mason  leaves  the  house  for  the  day's 
labour,  or  the  messenger  or  muleteer  sets  out 
on  his  journey,  he  wraps  his  other  articles  of 
food  in  the  thin  loaves  of  home-made  bread.  In 
the  case  of  loaves  fired  in  the  public  oven,  these, 
owing  to  the  glutinous  adhesiveness  and  elasticity 
of  the  dough,  and  the  sudden  formation  within 
them  of  vapour  on  the  hot  pavement,  puit"  out  into 
air-tight  balls.  They  can  then  be  opened  a  little 
at  one  side,  and  the  loaf  thus  forms  a  natural  pouch 
enclosing  the  meat,  cheese,  raisins  or  olives  to 
be  eaten  with  it  by  the  labourer.  As  the  loaf 
thus  literally  includes  everything,  so  bread  repre- 
sents gem-rally  the  food  of  num.  A  great  exclu- 
sion was  expressed  in  '  Man  shall  not  live  by  bread 
alone '  (Lk  4^).  In  the  miraculous  feeding  of  the 
nuiUitudc  (iMt  H's""-  II)  it  was  enough  to  provide 
them  with  bread.  It  was  three  loaves  of  bread 
that  the  man  asked  from  his  neighbour  to  put 
before  his  guest  (Lk  IP).  Two  would  have  been 
sufficient  for  liis  actual  needs  ;  but  even  in  such  an 
emergency  a  third  loaf  was  required  to  represent 
that  superabundant  something  which  as  a  touch  of 
grace,  often  passing  into  tyrannical  imposition,  so 
deeply  ati'ects  Oriental  social  life. 

In  the  act  of  eating.  Oriental  bread  is  broken  or 
torn  apart  by  the  hand.  This  is  easily  done  w  ith 
the  bread  of  the  public  oven,  as  it  can  be  separated 
into  two  thin  layers.  The  thin  home-made  bread 
is  named  both  in  Hebrew  and  Arabic  from  its  thin- 
ness, and  is  translated  '  wafer '  in  Ex  29'-',  Lv  8-", 
Nu  6'»,  1  Ch  23='''  (RV).  Such  bread  is  called 
p'Pl  [rakik;  Arab,  inarkuk,  from  warak,  'foliage,' 
'paper').  At  a  meal  a  small  piece  of  such  bread 
is  torn  oft',  and  with  the  ease  and  skill  of  long 
habit  is  folded  over  at  the  end  held  in  the  hand. 
It  thus  makes  a  spoon,  which  is  eaten  along  with 
whatever  is  lifted  by  it  out  of  the  common  dish. 
This  is  the  dipping  in  the  dish  (Mt  26="),  and  is 
accomplished  without  allowing  the  contents  of  the 
dish  to  Ije  touched  by  the  fingers  or  by  anything 
that  has  previously  been  in  contact  with  the  lips 
of  those  who  sit  at  meat. 

i.  SijinboHum  and  sanrUty  vf  bn-ad.^ln  a  land 
where  communication  with  other  sources  of  supply 


w-as  difficult,  everything  depended  upon  the  local 
wheat  and  barley  harvest.     As  this  in  turn   ' 


beyond  the  control  of  the  sower,  a  special  sanctity 


undeserved  care  (Mt  5^^).  To  the  disciples  of 
Jesus,  'Give  us  this  day  our  daily  bread'  would 
seem  a  very  natural  petition.  An  Oriental  seeing 
a  scrap  of  bread  on  the  road  will  usually  lift  it  up 
and  throw  it  to  a  street  dog,  or  place  it  in  a  crevice 
of  the  wall  or  on  a  tree  branch  where  the  birds 
may  find  it.  It  should  not  be  trodden  under  foot 
in  the  common  dust.  Thus  the  most  familiar 
article  of  food,  so  constantly  in  the  hands  of  all, 
both  rich  and  poor,  and  used  alike  by  the  evil  and 
the  good,  had  in  it  an  element  of  mystery  and 
nobility  as  having  been  touched  by  the  unseen 
Giver  of  all  good.  How  deeply  this  feeling  of 
reverence  possessed  the  mind  of  the  Lord  Jesus  is 
evidenced  by  the  fact  that  He  was  recognized  in 
the  breaking  of  bread  (Lk  24^=). 

In  tlie  social  customs  of  the  East,  the  giving  and 
receiving  of  bread  has  always  been  the  principal 
factor  in  establishing  a  bond  of  peace  between  the 
host  and  the  guest  at  his  table.  It  was  a  gravely 
unnatural  oft'ence  to  violate  that  law  of  hospitality. 
Of  this  offence  Judas  Iscariot  was  guilty  at  the 
Last  Supper. 

In  travelling  through  Palestine  and  partaking  of 
the  hospitality  of  the  peasantry,  one  may  notice  in 
the  bread  the  indentations  of  the  pebbles,  and  small 
patches  of  grey  ash,  with  here  and  there  an  inlaid 
attachment  of  singed  grass  or  charred  thorn,  the 
result  of  the  simple  baking  process.  It  is  bread, 
however,  the  best  that  the  poor  can  give,  and  it  is 
given  with  gladness  and  the  dignity  of  a  high 
duty  towards  the  guest.  When  Christ  sent  forth 
His  disciples  to  tell  of  His  approach.  He  charged 
them  to  take  no  bread  with  them  (Mk  6*).  It  would 
have  been  a  serious  discourtesy  to  have  set  aside  as 
unfit  for  their  use  that  which  was  ottered  to  them 
willingly  by  their  own  people,  and  would  have 
hindered  the  reception  of  the  good  tidings  of  the 
Kingdom. 

To  the  crowd  that  selfishly  followed  Christ  tlie 
giving  of  liread  as  by  Moses  was  the  sordid  sum- 
mary of  Messianic  hope  (Jn  6'').  God's  gift  of 
natural  food  to  His  peopleenters  into  the  praises  of 
the  Magnificat  (Lk  P^).  When  Cluist  called  Him- 
self '  the  bread  of  life  '  (Jn  O'''^),  He  c.mld  <cnfidently 
appeal  to  all  the  endeared  and  s.mt.iI  .i-^nriations 
connected  in  the  East  with  tlic  nn  :iniim  niid  use  of 
bread.  In  the  initiation  of  lli'-  I'a-soviM,  .■mil  in  its 
commemoration  afterwards,  bread  was  regarded  by 
the  Israelites  as  the  most  general  and  ett'ective 
symbol  of  their  life  in  Egypt.  In  the  initiation  of 
the  new  covenant  also  the  same  humble  article  of 
food  was  adopted  at  the  Lord's  Supper,  to  be,  with 
wine,  the  token  of  fellowship  between  Himself  and 
His  Church,  and  the  symbol  among  His  disciples  of 
the  Communion  of  Saints.  Tlie  use  of  a  symbol 
so  familiar  and  accessible  to  all,  and  so  representa- 
tive of  common  life,  seems  to  suggest  that  to  the 
mind  of  Christ  some  realized  and  visible  com- 
munion among  the  members  of  His  Church  was 
possible  and  to  be  expected. 

G.  M.  Mackie. 

BREAKFAST.-Lk  IP"  (RVni).  See  Dinner 
and  Meals. 

BREAST.— See  Bosom. 

BREATHING.— On  the  evening  of  the  Resurrec- 
tion, the  Lord  appeared  to  the  disciples,  gave  them 
the  commission  'As  my  Father,  etc.,'  'and  when 
he  had  said  this,  he  breathed  on  them  (^i/fi/iiiffJiire), 
and  saith  unto  them.  Receive  ye  the  Holy  Ghost 


232   BRETHREN  OF  THE  LORD 


BRETHREN  OF  THE  LORD 


(AajSere  TlveSpta'Ayioy).  Whose  soever  sins  .  .  .  re- 
tained,' Jn  20-"-.  The  word  ifjupvaaoi  is  that  em- 
ployed by  LXX  to  translate  nsj  in  Gn  2',  Ezk  37". 
As  Westcott  observes,  '  the  same  image  which  was 
used  to  descrilie  tlie  communication  of  tlie  natural 
life  [at  the  Creation]  is  here  used  to  express  the 
communication  of  the  new,  spiritual  life  of  re- 
created Immanity.'  The  figure  of  human  life  de- 
pending on  the  breath  of  God  is  frequent  in  tlie 
Bible  ;  besides  alx)ve  passages,  see  Job  12"  SS-*,  Ps 
33^  Is  42S  Dn  5'^,  Ac  17^.  In  the  following  the 
breath  of  God  is  synonymous  with  the  manifesta- 
tion of  His  power :  2  S  22'«,  Job  37'"  41=i,  Is  11^ 
Both  ideas  seem  to  underlie  our  Lord's  action. 
The  Church  was  now  receiving  its  commission,  and 
the  efficacy  and  reality  of  the  commission  must 
depend  upon  the  indwelling  in  the  Church  of  tlie 
same  Spirit  as  was  in  Christ  Himself.  '  Alike  the 
mission  of  the  Church  and  its  authority  to  forgive 
or  retain  sins  are  connected  with  a  personal  quali- 
fication, "Take  ye  the  Holy  Ghost " '  (Ederslieim, 
ii.  644).  The  work  was  not  new,  but  was  that 
already  received  from  the  Father  by  the  Son  and 
now  handed  on  to  that  Church  which  was  to  be 
Clirist's  body  on  earth.  He  had  compared  the 
action  of  the  Spirit  to  breath  (Jn  3').  '  By  breath- 
ing on  them  He  signified  that  the  Holy  (;host  was 
the  Spirit  not  of  the  Father  alone  but  likewise  His 
own '  (Aug.  St.  John,  tr.  121). 

Considerable  difference  of  opinion  exists  as  to 
whether  the  act  of  breathing,  with  the  authority 
to  retain  or  forgive  sin,  was  bestowed  upon  the 
Apostles  only  or  on  others  besides.  Tliose  who 
limit  it  to  the  Apostles  urge  that  'discijiles'  is 
always  in  the  later  chapters  of  St.  John  used  to 
signify  Apostles  ;  and  that,  even  if  otliers  were 
present,  the  analogy  of  Mt  28'^  and  Mk  16'*->'  im- 
plies that  the  breathing  and  commission  were 
limited  to  the  Apostles.  They  would  then  see  in 
the  act  a  formal  ministerial  ordination.*  On  the 
other  hand,  Westcott  and  many  otlR-rs,  comjiaring 
Lk  24^,  see  no  reason  whatever  for  limiting  the 
act  and  commission  to  Apostles.  Even  of  the 
Eleven  we  know  that  Thomas  at  least  was  absent 
(Jn  20^).  The  commission  was  one  given  to  the 
Christian  society  as  a  body  :  in  it  in  its  corporate 
capacity  would  dwell  the  Holy  Ghost,  and  the 
authority  of  retaining  or  forgiving  sins. 

Literature.  —  The  Commentaries  on  St.  John  ;  Westcott, 
Rerelation  of  Risen  Lord,  p.  81  ;  Ederslieim,  Life  and  Times 
0/ Jesus  the  Messiah,  ii.  644  ;  Gore,  Christian  Minislri/,  p.  229; 
Stanley,  Christian  Institutions,  p.  192. 

J.  B.  Beistow. 

BRETHREN  OP  THE  LORD.-Tlie  only  three 
theories  about  '  the  brethren  of  the  Lord ''  which 
are  worthy  of  serious  consideration  are  those  which 
are  called  by  Lightfoot  (1)  the  Hieronymian  (from 
its  advocacy  by  Jerome  [Hieronymus]),  (2)  the 
EpiphanUin  (from  its  advocacy  by  Epiphanius), 
and  (3)  the  Helvidian  (from  its  advocacy  by 
Jerome's  opponent,  Helvidius). 

According  to  the  Hieronymian  view,  the  '  breth- 
ren '  of  Jesus  were  His  first  cousins,  being  sons  of 
the  Virgin's  sister,  Mary  the  wife  of  Clopas.  Ac- 
cording to  the  Epiphanian  view,  they  were  sons 
of  Joseph  by  a  former  wife.  According  to  the 
Helvidian  view,  they  were  sons  of  Joseph  and 
Mary  born  after  Jesus.  All  these  views  claim  to 
be  Scriptural,  and  the  Epiphanian  claims  in  addi- 
tion to  be  in  accordance  with  the  most  ancient 
tradition. 

i.  Points  that  are  certain.— In  discussing  a 
question  of  such  intricacy  a.stlie  present,  it  is  well 
to  begin  by  distinpiisfiing  what  is  reasonably 
certain  from  what  is  uncertain.     A  careful  com- 


parison of  the  relevant  Scripture  passages  renders 
it  certain — 

(1)  That  the  brethren  of  the  Lord,'whatcver  their 
true  relationship  to  Him  was,  lived  tinder  the  same 
roof  with  Jesus  and  His  mother,  and  were  regarded 
as  members  of  the  Virgin's  fam ill/.  The  common 
household  is  implied  in  Jn  V,  and  more  distinctly 
still  in  2'-,  where  we  read  that  'he  went  do\\'n  to 
Capernaum,  he,  and  his  mother,  and  his  brethren, 
and  his  disciples  :  and  there  they  abode  not  many 
days.'  That  the  brethren  were  members  of  the 
same  family  as  Jesus,  and  stood  in  some  definite 
filial  relation  to  Joseph  and  Mary,  is  distinctly 
stated  in  IMt  13^^  ||,  '  Is  not  this  the  carpenter's  son  ? 
is  not  his  mother  called  Mary  ?  and  his  brethren, 
James,  and  Joseph,*  and  Simon,  and  Judas  ?  And 
his  sisters,  are  they  not  allf  with  us?'  (cf.  also 
Mt  12"  'Behold  thy  mother  and  thy  brethren 
stand  without,  seeking  to  speak  to  thee').  In 
harmony  with  this  the  Gospels  represent  the 
brethren  of  Jesus  as  habitually  going  about  in 
company  with  the  Virgin  (Mt  12« ||). 

(2)  I'hat  the  brethren  of  Jcsits  were  jealous  of 
Him,  and  vp  to  the  time  of  the  Hesurreetion  dis- 
believed His  claims.  Thus  tlie  Gospels  represent 
Jesus  as  lamenting  the  unbelief  and  want  of  sym- 
pathy of  His  near  relatives :  '  A  prophet  is  not 
without  honour,  save  in  his  own  country,  and 
among  his  own  kin,  and  in  his  own  house '  (Mk  6*) ; 
and  again,  'My  time  is  not  yet  come,  but  your 
time  is  alway  ready.  The  world  cannot  hate  you, 
but  me  it  liateth'  (Jn  7"').  There  are,  moreover, 
the  still  more  definite  statements,  '  For  even  his 
lirethren  did  not  believe  on  him'  (Jn  7^);   and, 

'  his  friends  (oi  Trap  ain-oV)  went  out  to  lay  hold  on 
him,  for  they  said.  He  is  beside  himself '  (Mk  3-'). 
Some  attempts  have  been  made  to  attenuate  the  force  of  these 

lim  ^iderent  eum  tot  signa  et  miracula 
facere,  illaque  vera  esse  non  dubitarerit,  tamen  dubitabant  an 
ipse  esset  Messias  et  Dei  Films:  lir^l  cnim  hoc  verum  esse 
optarent,  et  ex  parte  ob  tot  ejiK^  nui-aciila  ri'ilrrent— tamen  alia 
ex  parte  videntes  ejus  paupertatem  ct  nenlectum,  dubitabant. 
Ut  ergo  certi  hac  de  re  fiant,  hortantur  Christum  ire  secum  in 
Jerusalem,  eto.*  But  St.  John  asserts  disbetif^  (ovii  iTirrtutf), 
not  doubt,  and  implies  jealousy  and  hostility.  Other  critics 
have  maintained  that  some  ot\ly  of  the  brethren  disbelieved. 
But  St.  John's  language  at  the  very  least  .isserts  that  the 
majority  (that  is,  three  out  of  the  frair  brethren)  disbelieved, 
and  almost  certainly  implies  tlu-  disbelief  of  all. 

From  this  there  follow  >  thr  mc  is>iuv  inference— 

(3)  That  none  of  thr  brrtlinn  irrre  numbered 
among  the  Twelve  Apostles.  Tliis  conclusion  is 
confirmed  by  the  manner  in  which  they  are  dis- 
tinguished from  the  Twelve  in  Ac  1",  '  [The 
eleven]  all  with  one  accord  continued  steadfastly 
in  prayer  with  the  women,  and  Mary  the  mother 
of  Jesus,  and  with  his  brethren.'  With  this  may 
be  compared  1  Co  9°  ('  Have  we  no  right  to  lead 
about  a  wife  that  is  a  believer,  even  as  the  rest  of 
the  apostles,  and  the  brethren  of  the  Lord,  and 
Cephas?'),  which,  though  less  decisive  than  Ac  1", 
because  Cephas  is  first  classed  among  the  Twelve 
and  then  separately,  ix)ints  in  the  same  direction. 
It  is  no  sufficient  reply  to  this  to  say  that  in  Gal 
11' James  is  called  an  Apostle  ('But  other  of  the 
apostles  saw  I  none,  save  [el  fiv]  James  the  Lord's 
brother ').  Granting  that  this  is  the  case,  though 
it  has  been  denied  {e.g.  by  Grotius,  Winer,  Bleek  ; 
cf.  RVm),  it  may  be  fairly  maintained  that  St. 
James  is  called  an  Ajwstle  in  that  wider  sense  in 
which  the  term  is  ajjplied  to  St.  Paul  himself,  to 
St.  Barnabas  (Ac  14'- ",  1  Co  9"),  to  Andronicus 
and  Junias  (Ko  16"),  and  perhaps  also  to  Silvanus 

'  In  Mt.  the  correct  readiiiL-  s.  irn-  to  li.  'i^^Kf  (so  WH  and 
RV,  with  BC,  etc.).    In  Mk        '  '      t.-.)  is  certainly 

right. 

t  Epiphanius  says  that  11 
Salome,  but  the  rairai  sli-. 
The  present  passage  seeuia  L-  ..i---..- 
and  resided  at  Nasareth. 


passages.    C 


fi-s,  Mary  an& 
hree  at  least, 
^vere  married, 


BEETHEEN  OF  THE  LOED 


BEETHREN  OF  THE  LORD   233 


(1  ThS",  cf.  V).  That  James  the  Lord's  brother 
■was  one  of  the  Twelve  is  implied  already  in  the 
Gospel  according  to  the  Hebrews  (c.  A.D.  100),*  but 
the  evidence  of  this  dubious  source  cannot  outweigh 
the  strong  negative  presumption  aftbrded  by  the 
canonical  writings.! 

ii.  The  Hieronymian  View.— With  these  three 
points  established,  we  proceed  to  consider  the 
Hieronymian  view  that  the  brethren  of  Jesus 
were  really  His  first  cousins.  Jerome's  theory, 
as  stated  by  himself  in  his  acrimonious  but  able 
treatise  adversus  Hdvidiuiii,  involves  the  following 
positions : — 

(a)  That  James  the  Lord's  brother  was  an 
Apostle,  being  identical  with  James  the  Less,  the 
son  of  Alpha?us. 

(b)  That  the  mother  of  James  and  of  the  other 
'  brethren'  was  '  Mary  of  Clopas'  (Jn  19^5). 

(c)  That  this  Mary  was  the  Virgin's  sister. 

As  developed  by  subsequent  writers,  the  Hier- 
onymian theory  altirms  in  addition — 

(d)  That  Simon  the  Zealot  and  Judas  'not 
Iscariot'  were  also  brethren  of  the  Lord. 

(c)  That  Clopas  is  identical  with  Alpha;us,  and 
that  consequently  '  Mary  of  Clopas'  is  not  to  be 
regarded  as  the  daughter  of  Clopas,  but  as  his  wife.  J 

As  these  two  additional  points  are  maintained 
by  all  modern  followers  of  Jerome,  we  shall  regard 
them  as  integral  parts  of  the  Hieronymian  theory. 
Jerome's  theory  has  already  been  virtually  dis- 
proved by  the  proof  (i.  2,  3)  that  the  Lord'.s 
brethren  were  not  Apostles,  but  its  great  ingenuity 
and  wide  acceptance  §  render  full  discussion  of  it 
necessary. 

A.  Arguments  for  the  Hieronymian  view. — 

(1)  James  the  Lord's  brother  must  have  been  of 
the  Twelve,  because  he  is  called  an  Apostle,  Gal 
1'".     (For  a  reply  to  this  see  i.  2,  3). 

(2)  James  the  Lord's  brother  must  have  been  of 
the  Twelve,  because  he  exercised  great  authority 
among,  and  even  over  Apostles.  Thus  at  the 
Council  of  Jerusalem  he  presided  and  pronounced 
the    decision,    althougli    St.    Peter    himself    was 

ijresent  (Ac  15^^).  St.  Paul  names  him  before  St. 
*eter  as  one  of  the  cliief  pillars  of  the  Church 
(Gal  2').  The  Galatian  heretics  appealed  to  his 
authority  as  superior  to  that  of  St.  Paul  (Gal 
2'-),  and  his  importance  is  further  shewn  by  such 
passages  as  Ac  12"  21"*. 

liciilij.  —  St.  James'  prominent  position  is  ad- 
mitted, but  it  can  be  accounted  for  without  sup- 
posing him  to  have  been  of  the  Twelve.     For — 

(a)  His  close  relationship  to  Jesus  (whatever  the 
relationship  was)  would  have  sufKced  of  itself  to 
gain  him  great  consideration  among  the  first 
Christians.  He  probably  owed  in  part  at  least 
to  this  his  election  to  the  see  of  Jerusalem. 
Relationship  to  Jesus  was  clearly  the  main  motive 
in  the  appointment  of  his  successor,  Symeon  the 
son  of  Cloj)as,||  who  was  a  cousin  of  Jesus  (Eusebius, 


t  It  IS  perhaps  w  orth  addinj,  that  '5t  James  in  his  Epistle  does 
not  claim  to  1  e  of  the  TtttUe  and  that  his  brother  St  Jude 
seems  even  to  exuludc  hin  '.elf  from  the  number  of  the  Apostles 
(Jude  17) 

t  Jerome  himself  s  V  Mir  an  ri  npl  I  r  es  Evangelista 
cognominat    si  c      |  1  t    -vut  qua 

quumque  aha  ti 

5  Jerome  s  tre  r    inalh  held 

the  Epiphaman  f  these  two 

great  doctors   ri       i  11  I      pre\ail   e\ 

clusn  el)  in  the  \\  est      It    sjl  II        iini  lied  in  the 

asirethienof  Jes 

I  Th  sLloia-J  v\' 

,vtl    the  Cluias 

ma  ^ )    M  ry  oH 


IlE  iii.  11).  Hegesippus  sjieaks  of  the  relations  of 
Jesus  as  '  ruling  the  churclies '  as  such.  Even  as 
late  as  tlie  reign  of  Domitian  they  were  sufficiently 
important  to  incur  the  jealousy  of  the  tyrant  {I.e. 
iii.  20). 

(6)  James  the  Lord's  brother  possessed  personal 
qualities  which  fully  account  for  his  elevation. 
Even  the  Jews,  according  to  Hegesippus,  rever- 
enced him  for  his  piety,  his  unceasing  prayers, 
his  life-long  Nazirite  vow,  and  above  all  for  his 
justice  (I.e.  ii.  23).  Josephus  mentions  the  indig- 
nation which  his  execution  excited  among  the 
Jews  (Ant.  XX.  ix.  1),  and  in  a  passage  not  now 
extant;  ascribes  the  sufferings  endured  by  the  Jews 
during  the  siege  of  Jerusalem  to  Divine  vengeance 
for  his  murder  (Origen,  c.  Celsum,  i.  47). 

(3)  James  the  Lord's  brother  must  have  been  of 
the  Twelve,  because  there  were  only  two  promi- 
nent Jameses  in  the  Church,  as  the  expression 
'  James  the  Less '  (Mk  15'"')  indicates.  He  was 
therefore  either  James  the  Great,  son  of  Zebedee, 
or  James  the  Less,  son  of  Alphaeus.  But  he  was 
not  the  former,  who  was  martyred  as  early  as 
A.D.  44  (Ac  122).  Therefore  he  was  the  latter,  the 
son  of  Aiphceus. 

Mephj.— Jerome  and  his  followers  have  been  mis- 
led by  the  Latin  translation  Jacobus  minor,  '  James 
the  Less.'  The  Greek  is 'Iokw/Sos  6  fuKpds,  'James 
the  Little,'  the  allusion  being  to  his  .short  stature. 

(4)  The  names  of  James,  Simon,  and  Jude  occur 
together,  and  in  the  same  division,  in  all  the 
Apostolic  lists.  This  suggests— («)  that  they  were 
brothers,  and  (6)  that  they  are  identical  with  our 
Lord's  brethren  of  the  same  name  (see  Mt  10""-, 
Mk  3'™-,  Lk  &'«■,  Ac  1"). 

Rcplj/. — It  has  already  been  conclusively  proved 
that  our  Lord's  brethren  were  not  Apostles  (see 
i.  2,  3) ;  but,  waiving  this  point,  we  answer:  (l)'rhe 
occurrence  of  the  three  names  togetlier  in  the  list 
of  Apostles  is  no  proof  of  fraternal  relationship. 
(2)  There  is  definite  proof  that  the  three  were  not 
brothers.  For  had  they  been  so,  it  would  natur- 
ally have  been  mentioned  in  some  at  least  of  the 
Gospels,  as  it  is  in  the  cases  of  the  brothers  Peter 
and  Andrew,  James  and  John.  Moreover,  the 
fatlier  of  James  is  Aiphceus,  but  the  father  of  Jude 
is  a  certain  James,  of  whom  nothing  definite  is 
known.  It  is  true  that  some  propose  to  translate 
'loi/Sas 'IoKii/3ou  (Lk  6"",  Ac  1'^)  'Jude  the  brother  of 
James,'  but  so  unusual,  and  jjrobably  unexampled, 
a  meaning  would  require  at  least  to  be  indicated 
by  the  context.  We  conclude,  therefore,  that 
James  was  certainly  not  the  brotlier  of  Jude,  and 
there  is  no  evidence  that  he  was  the  brother  of 
Simon.  If  he  was  the  brother  of  any  Apostle,  it 
was  of  Matthew  (Levi),  whose  father  was  also 
called  Alphoeus  (Mk  2").  But  even  this,  in  the 
absence  of  any  evidence  of  the  identity  of  the  two 
Alphoeuses,  must  be  pronounced  doubtful. 

Equally  evident  is  it  that  these  three  Apostles 
were  not  brethren  of  Jesus.  The  coincidence  of 
three  such  common  names  as  James,  Simon,  and 
Jude  in  the  list  of  brethren  and  in  the  list  of 
Apostles  proves  nothing.  So  common  are  the 
names  that  they  are  duplicated  in  the  Apostolic 
list  itself.  If  it  could  be  shown  that  James,  Simon, 
and  Jude,  Apostles,  were  also  brothers,  the  coinci- 
dence would  be  worth  considering ;  but  since  they 
were  not,  the  coincidence  is  witliout  significance. 
The  very  way  in  which  these  IIium.'  Apostles  are 
designated  shows  tliat  they  wcir  not  linlhren  of 
Jesus.  It  was  necessary  to  ili>l  iiii;iiish  tlinii  from 
three  other  Apostles  of  the  >i-Mw  u:u\w.  .■iiid  yet 
they  are  not  once  called,  for  distiiiction,  '  the 
Lord's  brethren.'  James  is  called  'of  Alpha;us,' 
perliaps  also  'the  Little';  Simon  is  called  'the 
Canamean,'  and  '  tlie  Zealot';  Jude  receives  no 
less  than  four  distinguishing  titles,  '  not  Iscariot,' 


234   BRETHKEN  OF  THE  LOED 


BRETHREN  OF  THE  LORD 


'of  James,'  'Thaddteus,'  and  '  Lebba^us '  { Mt  10^, 
Western  Text).  How  strange,  if  be  really  was 
tlie  Lord's  brother,  that  he  is  not  once  so  de- 
scribed ! 

(5)  The  last  argument  consists  of  three  distinct 
steps,  (a)  James,  the  son  of  Alphaeus,  the  Apostle, 
is  identical  with  'James  the  Little'  of  Mk  15*  = 
Mt  27^".  But  this  James  the  Little  had  a  brother 
Joses,  clearly  a  well-known  character,  and  there- 
fore (since  no  other  Joses  is  mentioned  in  the 
Gospels)  the  same  as  Joses  (he  brother  of  Jesus 
(Mk  6^;  and  Mt  13=",  where  the  authorities  are 
divided  between  the  forms  Joses  and  Joseph). 
(6)  The  mother  of  this  James  is  called  by  the 
Synoptists  Mary,  and  she  is  further  described  in 
Jn  19^  as  'Mary  of  Clopas'  {Mapta  v  toO  KXuTra). 
This  might  mean  '  Mary  daughter  of  Clopas,'  but 
since  Clopas  and  Alphieus  are  the  same  word,  both 
being  transliterations  of  the  Aramaic  'S^n  ('sS), 
the  correct  translation  is  '  Mary  the  wife  of  Clopas. ' 
(c)  This  Mary,  wife  of  Clopas,  is  said  by  St.  John 
to  have  been  the  Virgins  sister.  Accordingly 
James  and  Joses  (and  consequently  also  Simon 
and  Jude),  the  Lord's  'brethren,'  were  really  His 
Jirsf  cousins  on  His  mother's  side. 

Reply. — This  argument  is  ingenious  rather  than 
strong.  For  (a)  the  identification  of  James  the 
Little  (Mk  15")  with  the  son  of  Alph;<?us,  though 
generally  accepted  and  not  improbable,  is  only  a 
guess.  Indeed  it  may  be  argued  that  since  St. 
Mark  in  his  Gospel  gives  no  liint  that  the  son  of 
Alphfeus  was  called  'the  Little,'  he  must  mean 
by  'James  the  Little'  another  person.  But  con- 
ceding the  identity  (which,  however,  whether  true 
or  not,  is  too  precarious  to  bear  the  weight  of  an 
important  argument),  we  stUl  cannot  concede  the 
identity  of  Joses,  the  brother  of  this  James,  with 
Joses  the  brother  of  Jesus.  The  identity  of  James 
of  Alphajns  with  James  the  Little  may  be  con- 
ceded, because,  though  it  is  weakly  attested, 
nothing  of  weight  can  be  ur^ed  against  it.  I5ut 
if  this  Joses,  the  brother  of  James,  was  also  the 
brother  of  Jesus,  then  three  of  our  Lord's  brethren 
were  Apostles,  a  conclusion  which  is  negatived  by 
an  overwhelming  weight  of  evidence  (see  i.  2,  3). 
In  such  a  case  the  mere  coincidence  of  a  name 
(and  Joses  or  Joseph  is,  as  Lightfoot  shews,  a 
particularly  common  name)  is  of  no  weight  at  all. 
(6)  Jerome's  assumption  that  '  Mary  the  mother 
of  James  and  Joses'  (Mt,  Mk.)  is  identical  with 
'  Mary  of  Clopas '  is  probably,  though  not  cer- 
tainly, correct.  But  there  is  no  ground  for  sup- 
posing, as  Jerome's  supporters  do,  that  this  Mary 
was  the  ivife  of  Clopas.  There  bning  no  indication 
in  the  context  to  the  contrary,  tlic  ii:itui:.l  trans- 
lation of  Map/a  71  ToD  KXun-S  is  '  M;iiy  lli<-  il'iinjltfcr 
of  Clopas.'*  It  is  maintained,  iii.UiMl,  that  ^iIn■e 
she  was  the  mother  of  James  Iht;  LiLtlc  (wh.i 
was  an  Apostle),  her  husband  must  liave  bi, n 
Alphfeus,  i.e.  Clopas.  But  it  is  doubtful  if  Jam. 
the  Little  really  was  an  Apostle,  and  it  is  still 
more  doubtful  if  Alphoeus  is  the  same  person  as 
Clopas.  KXcuttSs,  or,  as  it  should  probably  be  ac- 
cented, KXuiras,  is  a  purely  Greek  name,  being 
contracted  from  KXedirarpos  (cf.  'AcTiVas  from  'Ai/r(- 
Trarpos).  'AXi^aios  ('AX0aios,  WH),  on  the  other 
hand,  is  the  Aramaic  'sSn  (5alpai),  the  initial 
pittural  being,  as  is  frequently  the  case,  omitted. 
The   names   are    therefore    linguistically   distinct. 


are  allt-gcd. 

Against  the  identification  of  KAwT«f  and  Alphieus  it  may  be 
urged  :  (1)  That  inasmuch  as  initial  sh'va  is  almost  invariably 


represented  by  a  full  vowel  in  Greek  (nnVj"  =  :i«A«|i<.i;» ;  ninjss 
i7-«t(3«i»;  etc.),  there  is  a  presumption  against  a  word  like 
Clopas,  which  begins  with  two  consonants,  representing  a 
Semitic  name.  (2)  Although  n  is  occasionally  transliterated  « in 
the  middle  or  at  the  end  of  a  word,  this  never,  or  hardly  ever, 
happens  at  the  beginning.  (3)  -s^n  OsSn)  is  transliterated  quite 
regularly  X«x«;  in  1  Mac  ll'o.  (4)  The  u  of  KXiiT«5  cannot  be 
derived  from  "S^n.  The  nearest  Semitic  equivalent  of  KAi.T«f 
would  be  some  such  form  as  NjiVf.  (5)  The  Semitic  versions 
uniformly  regard  ■AJ.4«;»,-  as  a  Semitic  word,  but  KAiiT«5  as 
Greek,  transliterating  the  «  by  p. 

(c)  There  is  more  plausibility  about  Jerome's 
contention  that  Mary  of  Clopas  is  described  in 
Jn  19-'  as  the  Virgin's  sister.  The  words  are 
laTriKCKTav  Sk  iraph  tij)  ffravpf  toS  'Ir)<rov  -q  /iijrijp  avToS 
Kal  i)  d5fX0j)  Trjs  fiV'Pos  avToO,  Mapta  i]  toD  KXwjra,  Kal 
Mapta  i]  May5a\-r)vri.  It  must  be  candidly  admitted 
that  the  prima  facie  impression  v.hicli  this  passage 
makes  upon  the  mind  is  that  only  three  women  are 
mentioned,  and  that  the  Virgin's  sister  is  Mary 
of  Clopas.  There  are,  however,  important  con- 
siderations on  the  other  side.  (1)  When  persons 
or  things  are  enumerated  in  pairs  (cf.  the  list  of 
Apostles,  Mt  lO^--*),  the  copula  is  not  inserted  be- 
tween the  pairs.  If,  therefore,  St.  John  in  this 
passage  designs  to  speak  of  two  pairs  of  tvotncn, 
Kal  is  correctly  omitted  before  Mapta  ii  toS  KXwTrfi. 
(2)  The  Synoptic  parallels  show  that  Salome,  the 
another  of  James  and  John,  w-as  present  at  the 
Crucifixion,  and  since  it  is  unlikely  tliat  St.  John 
would  omit  to  mention  the  presence  of  his  own 
mother,  •^  d5e\<pri  r^s  nrjrp&s  avroS  is  probably  not 
Mary  of  Clopas,  but  Salome.  The  suppression  of 
her  name  is  quite  in  the  style  of  the  Evangelist, 
who  is  very  reticent  in  ])ersonal  matters,  and  never 
even  names  himself.  (3)  If  Mary  of  Clopas  was 
sister  to  the  Virgin,  then  two  sisters  had  tlie  same 
name,  a  circumstance  most  improbable,  unless  they 
were  only  step-sisters.  The  point  is  undoubtedly 
a  difficult  one,  and  different  opinions  will  continue 
to  be  held  about  it,  but  fortunately  its  decision 
does  not  affect  the  main  point  of  our  inquiry, 
because,  whether  Mary  of  Clopas  was  the  Virgin's 
sister  or  not,  there  is  no  reason  for  supposinr/  that 
she  was  the  mother  of  the  brethren  of  Jesus. 
B.  Objections  to  the  Hieronymian  view.  — 
The  liieronymian  view  is  to  be  rejected,  partly 
because  the  arguments  in  its  favour,  though  in- 
genious, arc  inconclusive  and  often  far-fetched  ; 
partly  because  no  trace  of  it  is  to  be  found  before 
the  tmie  of  Jerome,  who  apparently  invented  it ;  * 
partly  because  it 'is  obviously  an  attempt  of  an 
ardent  champion  of  celibacy  to  maintain  the  per- 
I)etual  virginity  not  only  of  Mary,  but  of  Joseph  ;  t 
partly  because  it  involves  an  unnatural  use  of  the 
term  '  brethren ' ;  J  but  chietly  because  it  is  incon- 

liitt)  used  to  be  quoted  on  Jerome's 

1  lli:i(  the  Papias  in  question  lived 

I  n  (AD.  160)  and  Clement  of 

Mnngly  claimed  on  the  same 

l-^l'iphanian  view. 

lu  .liiis  (liL- is  addressing  Hel- 


2321.22  first  cousins  are  called  brethren  (CrT-K  =  iSiX?»; 
,  LXX):  in  Lv  lO-i,  first  cousins  once  removed  (03'nK: 

i5rtc»«  i"<:»,  LXX).   So  I  ■     ■    -    '  ■  '■ 


i  Ilierapo 


tended  use  of  '  brother'  .are  taken  from  the  OT ;  that  the  usage 
of  iSt*^«  is  much  less  elastic  than  that  of  nx  ;  that  no  instances 
of  a5a^«=«»£'J/iof  are  cited  from  profane  writers;  and  that 
even  the  OT  does  not  sanction  the  habitual  use  of  n^  to 
describe  any  other  relationship  than  that  of  brother.  The  term 
i>I^^l«  is  not  avoided  in  the  NT  (see  Uol  4'"),  and  Hegesippus 


BRETHREN  OF  THE  LORD 


BRETHREN  OF  THE  LORD   235 


sistent  with  the  three  certainties,  which,  as  we 
have  shown,  a  true  theory  must  necessarily  pre- 
suppose, namely,  the  common  household,  the  un- 
belief of  the  brethren,  and  their  non-incdusion  among 
the  Twelve.  Jerome's  theory  i-<  iinonsistiiit  not 
only  with  the  last  two  of  t'luM'  <  i  itriinlns,  Imt 
even  with  the  first,  for  though  liis  wu|iiiuiU'rs  allege 
that  the  two  sisters  were  both  widows  and  kept 
house  together,  this  does  not  explain  the  fact  that 
the  brethren  of  Jesus  are  regarded  in  Scripture  as 
belonging  to  the  Virgin's  family,  and  are  con- 
tinually represented  as  being  in  her  company,  and 
never  in  the  company  of  their  alleged  mother, 
Mary  of  Clopas.  * 

iii.  The  Helvidian  and  Epiphanian  Views.— 
The  rejection  of  the  Hieronymian  view  leaves  the 
choice  open  between  the  Helvidian  and  the  Epi- 
phanian views,  both  of  which  have  the  immense 
advantage  over  the  Hieronymian  of  not  being 
inconsistent  with  the  three  certainties  laid  down 

A.  Arguments  for  the  Helvidian  vieio.f — 

(1)  The  Helvidian  view,  which  maintains  that 
the  brethren  of  Jesus  were  sons  of  Joseph  and 
Miiri/,  gives  a  fuller  and  more  natural  meaning  to 
tlie  term  docXipol  than  the  Epiphanian,  which  denies 
that  they  were  blood-relations  of  Jesus  at  all. 

Reply. — The  advantage  of  the  Helvidian  view  in 
this  respect  is  but  slight.  Joseph  was  not  a  blood- 
relation  of  Jesus,  and  yet  he  is  called,  not  only 
by  friends  and  acquaintances  (Mt  13-'^  =  Mk  6^,  cf. 
also  Jn  1«  6^=i),  but  also  by  the  Virgin  herself  (Lk 
2^),  and  by  an  Evangelist  who  lays  great  stress 
upon  the  supernatural  birth  (Lk  2^'),  the  father  of 
Jesus.  Since,  therefore,  even  in  the  Holy  Family 
Joseph  was  called  the  father  of  Jesus,  it  is  certain 
that  if  he  had  had  sons,  they  would  have  been 
called  the  brethren  of  Jesus. 

(2)  In  Lk  2'  Jesus  is  called  Maxy's  first-born  son 
(irpuTbroKov).  This  implies  that  she  had  other 
children. 

Reply. — tpo>t6tokos  among  the  Jews  was  a  tech- 
nical term,  meaning  '  that  which  openeth  the 
womb'  (Ex  34ii"r-),  and  does  not  imply  the  birth 
of  other  offspring.  Indeed,  the  redemption-price 
of  a  first-born  son,  required  by  tlie  Mosaic  law, 
was  due  at  the  end  of  a  month  (Nu  S""*-),  before  it 
could  be  known  whether  there  was  any  likelihood 
of  further  oftspring.  Dr.  Mayor  objects  that  in  a 
purely  historical  passage,  like  Lk  2',  this  technical 
meaning  is  not  to  be  thought  of ;  but  the  subse- 
quent statement  '  they  brought  him  up  to  Jeru- 
salem to  present  him  to  the  Lord,  as  it  is  written 
in  the  law  of  the  Lord,  Every  male  that  openeth 
the  womb  shall  be  called  holy  to  the  Lord'  (Lk 
2:^'  ^),  renders  it  certain  that  it  was  precisely  this 
which  was  in  tlie  Evangelist's  mind  when  he  called 
Jesus  irjiuTdTOKov  (so  already  Jerome,  I.e.  x.). 

(3)  Mt  l"*,  'before  they  came  together'  (irpii/ 
i)  (Tme\0(h),  implies  that  the  connubial  relations  of 
Joseph  and  Mary  were  of  the  ordinary  kind. 

Riply  — <n  veXtfeiK  need  not  mean  more  than  living 
to^ethei  in  tlie  same  house 

(4)  Mt  1  5,  '  and  knew  liei  not  till  she  had  biought 
foith  a  son'  (khI  oh.    iyhuiaKti'  aiT-qv  im   ov  Irckcv 


')t: 


that  he  kii 
theL\an^(  list  nu 

I"  t;ir"r ';;:'!: ' 


,.<.s4.,05  ,  but  James, 
k<fi>i  Clearly,  there 
<  Kup.ou  as  equivalent 


I   iuthorit\ 

iL  the  hrethren  j 

^-.1  \  ■.  ud  that  they  wer 


I  Jerome. 
!  The  -rpajT, 
im  Lk  2'. 


'  of  the  TR  here 


of  Jesus,  without  any  warning  that  they  were  not 
Mary's  children. 

Reply. — This  is  an  argument  of  real  weight,  and 
is  not  adequately  answered  by  Jerome,  Cornelius  a 
Lapide,  Pearson,  etc.,  who  allege  such  passages  as 
Mt  28-",  '  Lo,  I  am  with  you  alway,  even  unto  the 
end  of  tlie  world,'  and  2  S  6=^,  '  Michal  the  daughter 
of  Saul  had  no  child  until  the  day  of  her  death,'  as 
a  proof  that  '  until '  does  not  fix  a  limit  or  suggest 
a  subsequent  change.  It  is  quite  true  that  in  such 
passages  as  those  quoted,  where  the  circumstances 
of  the  ease  preclude  the  idea  of  change,  'until'  does 
not  imply  change.  But  '  until '  does  imply  change 
when  it  introduces  a  state  of  things  in  which 
change  is  naturally  to  be  expected.  Thus,  as  Dr. 
Mayor  justly  remarks,  if  2  S  6^  be  made  to  read 
'  Michal  the  daughter  of  Saul  had  no  child,  until 
she  left  David  and  became  the  wife  of  Phcdtiel,'  then 
'  until '  does  imply  that  she  had  a  child  afterwards, 
because  chUd-bearing  is  a  natural  and  usual  sequel 
of  marriage.  So  in  the  present  case  it  may  be 
fairly  argued  that  inasmuch  as  connubial  inter- 
course is  the  natural  accompaniment  of  marriage, 
the  Evangelist  in  asserting  that  it  did  not  take 
place  tiniil  a,  certain  date,  attirms  that  it  took  place 
afterwards.  Still  the  argument,  as  applied  to  this 
particular  case,  is  not  convincing.  The  Evangelist 
is  not  (even  by  implication)  comparing  together 
the  connubial  relations  of  Joseph  and  Mary  before 
and  after  the  birth  of  Jesus  (as,  in  the  case  supposed 
by  Dr.  Mayor,  Michal's  connubial  relations  with 
David  and  Phaltiel  are  compared),  but  simply 
affirming  in  the  strongest  possible  way  that  Joseph 
had  no  share  in  the  procreation  of  Jesus.  Bengel's 
laconic  comment  is  therefore,  upon  the  whole, 
justified — '  donee]  Non  sequitur,  ergo  post.'  The 
subsequent  mention  of  the  brethren  of  Jesus  (Mt 
13^^)  does  not  affect  the  question,  because  it  was 
well  known,  when  the  Evangelist  wrote,  who  the 
brethren  were,  and  there  was  no  need  to  guard 
against  misconception. 

(5)  The  fact  that  the  brethren  not  only  lived  in 
the  same  house  with  the  Virgin,  but  continually 
accompanied  her  wherever  she  went,  is  an  indi- 
cation that  they  were  her  children  as  well  as 
Joseph's. 

Reply. — The  tie  which  unites  a  stepmother  and 
her  step-sons  is  often  extremely  close,  and  con- 
sidering that  Joseph  was  almost  certainly  dead 
before  our  Lord's  ministry  began,  and  that  Jesus 
was  fully  occupied  with  public  afiairs,  it  cannot  be 
regarded  as  surprising  that  her  step-sons  (if  such 
they  were)  constituted  themselves  her  guardians 
and  protectors. 

I>.  Arguments  for  the  Epiphanian  view. — 

We  shall  now  state  the  arguments  for  the  theory 
of  Epiphanius,  and  subject  them  to  criticism  from 
the  Helvidian  point  of  view. 

(1)  The  Perpetual  Virginity  of  Mary  is  implied 
in  the  narrative  of  the  Annunciation  (Lk  l^o-ssj. 
The  angel  Gabriel  appeared  to  Mary,  and  after 
saluting  her  as  '  highly-favoured '  announced  the 
manner  of  Christ's  birth  as  follows  :  '  Behold,  thou 
shalt  conceive  in  the  womb,  and  shalt  bring  forth 
a  son,  and  shalt  call  his  name  Jesus.'  The  reply 
of  Mary  was,  '  How  shall  this  be,  seeing  that  I 
Inww  not  a  man''.'  (IIcjs  larai  tovto,  tVei  avSpa  ov 
ywwdKiii ;).  It  is  plain  from  this  reply  (1)  that  she 
understood  the  angel  to  mean  that  the  child  would 
be  born  in  the  natural  way  ;  and  (2)  that  there  was 
some  obstacle  which  prevented  her  fiom  having  a 
child  in  the  natural  way  ('  I  know  not  a  man,' 
'  S-pSpa  oil  yiviicrKoi ').  These  words  cannot  mean,  '  I 
do  not  yet  know  a  man.'  That  would  have  been 
no  obstacle  to  the  fulfilment  of  the  promise.  The 
angel's  words  related  to  the  future  (v."),  and 
inasmuch  as  Mary  was  already  betrothed  (v.'"), 
and  might  shortly  expect  to   be  taken  into  her 


236   BRETHREN  OF  THE  LORD 


BRETHREN  OF  THE  LORD 


husband's  liouse,  there  was  every  prospect,  so  far 
as  Mary's  status  went,  that  the  angel's  words 
would  shortly  be  fulfilled.  The  only  meanin", 
therefore,  which  in  such  a  context  Mary's  words 
can  bear,  is  that  she  had  devoted  herself  (with  her 
betrothed's  consent)  to  a  life  of  virginity,  and  that 
she  expected  to  preserve,  even  in  marriage,  her 
virginal  integrity  (so  nearly  all  the  older  ex- 
positors, including  Ambrose,  Augustine,  Gregory 
of  Nyssa,  Theophylact,  Bernard,  Bede,  Anselra, 
Aquinas,  Cornelius  a  Lapide,  Maldonatus,  Grotius  ; 
and  in  more  recent  times  Bisping,  Schegg,  Schanz).  * 

Reply. — Such  a  vow  or  resolution  is  improbable 
in  Marj's  case,  because  the  Jews  regarded  virginity 
as  less  honourable  than  marriage,  and  childless- 
ness as  a  calamity.  Moreover,  it  is  improbable 
that,  if  she  had  formed  such  a  resolution,  Joseph 
would  have  consented  to  be  betrothed  to  her. 

These  objections  are  undeniably  weighty,  but 
they  do  not  fully  meet  the  strong  exegetical  argu- 
ment for  the  traditional  view.  Moreover,  it  must 
be  remembered  (1)  that  the  case  in  question  is  a 
unique  and  peculiar  one,  and  that  it  is  doubtful 
how  far  the  canons  of  ordinary  probabUitv  ought 
to  be  applied  to  it ;  (2)  that  esteem  for  virginity 
among  contemporary  Jews  is  vouched  for  (though 
only  to  a  limited  extent)  by  the  ^^Titings  of  PhUo, 
and  the  existence  of  the  sect  of  the  Essenes ;  (3) 
that  a  high  esteem  for  virginity  characterized  the 
Christian  movement  from  the  first  (Ac  21',  1  Co  7), 
and  formed  part  of  the  teaching  of  Christ  (Mt 
19'=)  ;  and  consequently  it  is  not  incredible  tliat 
Joseph  and  Mary,  by  whom  Jesus  was  brought 
up,  shared  the  sentiment,  and  communicated  it 
to  Him. 

(2)  Virginity  is  regarded,  not  only  by  Christians, 
but  by  nearly  all  men,  as,  ideally  at  any  rate, 
superior  to  marriage.  It  is  therefore  probable  that 
the  most  privileged  and  holiest  of  women  remained 
ever  a  virgin,  as  has  been  believed  by  most  Chris- 
tians from  the  first,  t 

Reply. — This  argument  has  weight,  but  is  not 
conclusive.  For  (1)  though  ideally  virginity  is 
superior  to  marriage,  being  the  condition  of  the 
holy  angels  and  of  the  saints  in  heaven  (Mt  22^°), 
jfX  practically  marriage  is  in  most  cases  to  be  pre- 
ferred to  celibacy,  as  a  more  useful  means  of 
serving  God.  And  since  the  estate  of  maiTiage 
is  altogether  holy,  and  is  a  religious  mystery  or 
sacrament,  symbolizing  the  union  between  Christ 
and  His  Church  (Eph  5**),  it  is  consistent  with  the 
highest  reverence  towards  our  Lord's   mother  to 

*  This  important  passage  is  not  alluded  to  bv  Jlavor  and 
Lightfoot,  and  is  very  inadequatel.v  dealt  with  l>y  most  recent 
commentators.  B.  Weiss  (Com.  in  loc.)  savs  Ihit  it  is  '  a  be- 
wildered question  how  she,  the  unstained  maiden,  ran  possibly 
come  into  this  position."  Considering  that  she  was  already 
betrothed,  no  sucii  bewilderment  was  possible.  If  the  ani'ol  had 
said  that  she  would  have  a  son  bi-fore  mni-./mic,  surh  h.-wilrk-r- 
ment  would  have  been  natural  enough,  firth,  rnn^uhihi.^  of 
betrothed  persons,  though  not  exactlv  fi.rl.i.l.h  n,  \\,,~  nil  a]»- 
proved.  But  the  angel  had  not  hinted  at  lliis  I.i  I'luininir 
reproduces  Weiss.  Godet  simply  savs:  ■lln  .|ii.s1m,ti  )-<  tlie 
legitimate  expression  of  the  astonishiiicMit  nf  a  i.iin  .'..iis.  imci'  ' 


adequate  discussion  of  thepassa^.. 

Cornelius  a  Lapide  and  Maldonatus  are  full,  but  uncriticar. 

t  The  early  Christians,  however,  while  believing  the  Perpetual 
Virginity  as  a  fact,  did  not  regard  it  as  an  article  of  faith  As 
late  as  c.  a.b.  370,  St.  Basil  could  write  :  'The  worils,  IJe  knew 
her  not  till  the  brought  forth  her  first-born  tan,  do  indeed  afford 
a  certain  ground  for  thinking  that  Slary,  after  acting  in  till 


of  God  ever  ceased  I 
her  perpetual  virgin; 
(.Horn,  xn  Sanct.  Chr, 


believe  that  after  the  birth  of  Jesus  she  bore 
children  to  her  husband.* 

(3)  Reverence  for  Mary  as  '  Mother  of  God ' 
would  have  prevented  Joseph  from  cohabiting  with 
her  as  her  husband. 

Reply. — If  we  could  be  sure  that  Joseph  and 
Mary  regarded  the  infant  Jesus  as  God,  this  argu- 
ment would  have  great  weight ;  but  it  is  just  this 
point  which  is  doubtful.  The  angel  described  the 
infant  as  the  Messiah,  and  the  Son  of  God,  but 
neitlier  of  these  terms  involved  necessarily  to 
Jewish  ears  the  idea  of  Divinity.  The  term  Son 
of  God  is  used  in  the  OT  even  of  the  Davidic  king. 

(4)  The  brethren  of  Jesus  behave  to  Him  as  if 
they  were  elder  brothers.  Thus  they  are  jealous 
of  His  popularity  (Mk  6*),  criticize  and  advise  Him 
in  no  friendly  spirit  (Jn  V-),  attempt  to  control 
His  actions,  and  even  to  place  Him  under  restraint 
(Mk  2,-"^;  cf.  Mk  3^'  n).  Butif  they  were  older  than 
Jesus,  they  were  not  Mary's  children. 

Reply. — It  cannot  be  denied  that  their  actions 
seem  lilce  those  of  elder  brethren,  but  it  is  possible 
that  they  were  only  slightly  younger  than  Jesus, 
and  if  so  their  conduct  is  perhaps  intelligible. 

(5)  Jesus  upon  the  Cross  commended  His  mother 
not  to  His  '  brethren,'  but  to  St.  John  (Jn  19=«- '"). 
He  would  have  been  very  unlikely  to  do  this,  if 
His  '  brethren  '  had  really  been  the  Virgin's  sons. 

Reply. — (a)  The  cause  of  this  arrangement  may 
have  been  the  great  poverty  of  the  brethren  of 
Jesus,  and  the  comparative  affluence  of  St.  John, 
who,  after  all,  was  a  near  relation  of  Jesus  (a  first 
cousin).  This  is,  of  course,  possible ;  but  there  is 
nothing  to  indicate  that  the  brethren  of  Jesus  were 
specially  poor.  They  were  living  with  St.  Mary, 
and  their  united  earnings  would,  under  ordinary 
circumstances,  have  sufficed  to  maintain  a  single 
household  in  comfort.  (6)  Some  allege  as  a  cause 
the  unbelief  of  the  brethren.  But  this  is  unlikely, 
because  Jesus  must  have  known  that  within  a  few 
days  their  unbelief  would  pass  into  faith. 

(6)  The  most  ancient  ecclesiastical  tradition, 
especially  that  of  Palestine,  favours  the  Epi- 
phanian  view.  The  testimony  of  Hegesippus,  a 
native  of  Palestine,  and  a  man  of  learning,  who 
wrote  about  A.D.  160,  is  definitely  against  the 
Hieronymian,  and  (as  is  almost  certain)  in  favour 
of  the  Epiphanian  view.  His  works  are  lost,  but 
in  the  fragments  which  remain,  he  consistently 
speaks  of  tlie  first  Bishop  of  Jerusalem  (James)  as 
the  Lord's  brother  ;  but  of  the  second  (Synieon)  as 
His  cousin  (d^ei/'<6s,  which  he  more  exactly  defines 
as  6  (k  Belov  ToC  Kvplov,  the  Seios  being  KXiixar,  the 
brother  of  Joseph).!  Clearly,  therefore,  Hege- 
sippus did  not  regarii  the  brethren  of  Jesus  as  His 
cousins.  That  he  did  not  regard  them  as  sons  of 
Mary,  is  shown  by  his  description  of  Jude,  the 
Ijortl's  brother,  as  roO  Kara  aapna.  'Kiyoy-ivov  aiiroD 
doe\0or,  ,tii(l  by  the  fact  that  Eusebius  and  Epi- 
pli.iiiiii>,  who  draw  their  information  mainly  from 
liiiii,  regard  tlie  brethren  as  children  of  Joseph  by 
a  former  wife.t  This  view  is  taken  by  Clement  of 
Alexandria,  Origen,  Hilary  of  Poitiers,  Ambrose, 
Ambrosiaster,  Gregory  of  Nyssa  ;  in  fact,  so  far  as 
^^•e  know,  by  all  tlie  Fathers  before  Jerome,  with 
the  excejjtion  of  Tertullian,  who  probably,  though 
his  statements  are  not  explicit,  held  the  view  of 

•  Quite  unjust,  therefore,  is  the  customary  Hieronj-mian 
abuse  of  Helvidius  as  *  sjnirrtis  hn^n'siarcha.'  and  the  char- 
acterization of  his  theory  as  ■  l.la^plMTin.i.'  Those  who  use  such 
language  virtually  den>'  tti'  .--ah  iii\  ^i  ninriage.  Helvidius' 
theory  is  perfectly  reverent-  w  )i  ih.  i  ii  is  true  or  not  is 
another  question. 

t  It  is  possible,  hnt  ii-i     .i. .'  '      i  pi-    ,v   m,  ,t  ttii-  Plopas,  the 

brother  of  Jos'-].) I    i...    (,:       ,      r    ^    mm.i    ^*ni--oiithe 

Lord's  brother),  i-  ,        I  [    tn  l  >  ■.  or  the 

K>.ciT<«,- of  Lk  J I '         I.      -       il.    --      -        I  I,  ..i.etyino- 

logically  the  satn-    ■.-.  ■rd,  I- ■■  li  !■  inu'  '"i;ri-  ,.  i  ,,  m^  Mt  K/  :'.Ta.Tpo<. 
:  The  statements  m   Hi-esippus  ubuul  uur  Loni  s   brethren 
are  noted  by  Eusebiui,  UJj  ii.  -t>,  iii.  Zi),  iii.  oJ,  iv.  JJ. 


BRIDE,  ETC. 


EROOK 


237 


3  suie  oi  cne  i!,pipnanian  view. 
hj.  —  It    is    possible    that    the  Apocryph.al 
Is,  e!>pecially  the  Gospel  of  Peter  and   the 
I'angelium  of  James,  and  not  any  authentic 


Helvidius.  Since  Jerome  the  Western  Church  has 
adopted  the  Hieronymian  theory,  but  the  Eastern 
Church  still  maintains  that  of  Epiphanius.  The 
traditional  evidence,  therefore,  is  almost  entirely 
on  the  side  of  the  Epiphanian  view. 

Reply. 
Gospel: 
Protevangel 

tradition,  are  the  source  of  the  Epiphanian  theory 
This  is  Jerome's  view,  who  taunts  Epiphanians  with 
following  '  deliramenta  apocryjihorum.'  This,  how- 
ever, is  not  likely.  The  statements  of  the  best 
informed  Fathers  "seem  based  on  Hegesippus,  who 
made  an  independent  investigation,  under  specially 
favourable  conditions.  The  Apocryphal  Gospels 
probably  adopted,  rather  than  originated,  the  cur- 
rent view. 

C.  The  main  objection  to  the  Epiphanian  view. 
— There  is  one  objection  to  the  Epiphanian  view 
so  important  that  it  deserves  special  notice.  It  is 
well  known  tliat  a  high — an  even  extravagant- 
estimate  of  virginity  prevailed  extensively  in  the 
early  Church  ;  and  therefore  there  is  some  reason 
to  suspect  that,  just  as,  at  the  close  of  the  4th 
cent.,  zeal  for  the  virginity  of  Joseph  produced 
the  Hieronymian  theory,  so,  three  centuries  earlier, 
zeal  for  the  virginity  of  Mary  produced  the  Epi- 
phanian. That  this  may  have  been  so,  no  cautious 
critic  will  deny ;  but  it  does  not,  upon  the  evi- 
dence, apjiear  to  be  probable.  For  (1)  if  Mary  bore 
to  Joseph,  as  the  Helvidian  theory  assumes,  seven 
children,  of  whom  one  was  Bishop  of  Jerusalem, 
and  three  others  prominent  members  of  the  Church, 
the  non-virginity  of  Mary  after  the  birth  of  Jesus 
must  have  been  so  notorious  a  fact  in  the  Apostolic 
Church,  that  the  (practically)  unanimous  tradition 
of  her  perpetual  virginity  could  never  have  arisen. 
(2)  The  tradition  of  the  Perpetual  Virginity  was 
already  prevalent  early  in  the  2nd  cent.,  tliat  is, 
long  before  ascetic  views  were  dominant  or  even 
aggressive  in  the  Church.  It  prevailed,  moreover, 
in  Palestine,  where,  there  is  reason  to  believe, 
ascetic  views  had  less  influence  than  elsewhere. 
For  these  reasons  we  are  inclined  to  think  that  the 
Ejjiphanian  tradition  has  a  real  historical  basis. 

iv.  Probable  Conclu.sions.  —  The  scantiness 
and  ambiguity  of  the  only  really  trustworthy 
evidence,  the  Scriptural,  obliges  us  to  be  content 
with  merely  probable  conclusions.  The  only  con- 
clusion that  seems  to  be  certain  is  that  Jerome's 
theory  is  false.  The  claims  of  the  two  other 
theories  are  nearly  evenly  balanced  ;  nevertheless, 
it  appears  to  us,  after  weighing  the  opposing  argu'- 
ments  to  the  best  of  our  power,  that  there  is  a 
slight  but  perceptible  preponderance  of  Scriptural, 
and  a  much  more  decided  preponderance  of  his- 
torical, evidence  in  favour  of  the  Epiphanian  theory. 

Literature.  —  Jerome,  adversus  Helvidium-;  Epiphanius, 
adversns  Aittidicomarianitas  (adversus  Ucereset,  iii.  2)  (both 
important) ;  Pearson,  On  the  Creed  ;  Mill,  Accounts  of  our  Lord's 
Brethren  vindicated ;  Schegg,  Jakobus,  der  Bruder  des  Herm  ; 
Schanz,  Comment,  iiber  Mt.,  Mc,  Lc;  Meyrick,  art.  'James'  in 
Smith's  DB;  Sieffert,  art.  'Jakobus,'  and  Zockler,  art.  'Maria' 
in PRE^;  Lightfoot,  Galatians,  pp.  25'2-291 ;  Mayor,  Epistle  of 
St.  James  (v.  ff.)  and  art.  'Brethren  of  the  Lorti'  in  Hastings' 
DB;  art.  'Clopas'  in  Encyc.  Bibl.;  Farrar,  Earli/  Daps  of 
Christianity,  ch.  xix. ;  Patrick,  Jamxs  the  Lord's  Brother,  1906, 

p-^«-  C.  Harris. 

BRIDE,  BRIDE  -  CHAMBEB,  BRIDEGROOM, 
BRIDEGROOM'S  FRIEND.— See  Marriage. 

BRIMSTONE  (burning  stone  or  sulphur  [Seiov, 
commonly  derived  from  deZos,  'divine,'  either  be- 
cause sulphur  was  used  for  religious  purification, 
or  because  lightning— the  bolt  of  the  gods— emits 
a  sulphurous  odour:  others  connect  it  with  eiw, 
'agitate,'  ci.fiimus,  'smoke']). — Its  use  in  Scrip- 
ture in  the  imagery  of  Divine  judgment  is  founded 
on  the  story  of  the  destruction  of  .Sodom  and  the 


cities  of  the  Plain  (Gn  19"-28), 

which  the  Gosp 

Mk  6",  Mt  10'* 

of  Divine  judgment 


tastrophe  to 
pels  frequently  refer  (Lk  17-"-'  10'-, 
5  1123. 24)  i'i)g  story  of  this  tragedy 
judgment  casts  its  lurid  li^ht  all  down 
Sori|iture  history,  and  has  coloured  Christian  be- 
lief in  its  presentation  of  the  Divine  wrath.  The 
imagery  of  'tire  and  brimstone'  appears  in  the 
prophets  and  the  Psalms  as  an  impressive  metaphor 
of  heaven's  most  pitiless  judgment,  wliile  the  story 
itself  is  often  recalled  both  in  the  OT  and  in  the 
NT.  In  the  Book  of  Revelation  it  is  a  notable 
feature  in  the  description  of  the  Apocalyptic  ridel's 
(9"-  '^),  that  their  breastplates  are  of  tire  and  brim- 
stone, and  from  the  mouths  of  their  horses  proceed 
the  same  dread  emblems  of  wrath  ;  while  no  more 
impressive  figure  can  be  found  to  describe  the  final 
doom  of  the  wicked  in  the  end  of  the  ages  than 
that  they  shall  be  cast  into  the  '  lake  of  fire  and 
brimstone,'  there  to  be  '  tormented  day  and  night 
for  ever  and  ever'  (Rev  W  20'"  218). 

J.  Dick  Fleming. 
BROOK  (Jn  18';  RVm  'ravine,  Gr.  winter  tor- 
rent,' xf'/"«Ws)  is  the  usual  LXX  equivalent  of 
'^nj,  and  seems  to  correspond  in  meaning  \vith  the 
Arab.  «'af/y  =  ' valley,'  but,  more  particularly,  the 
watercourse  in  the  bottom  of  the  valley.  The 
winter  rains,  rushing  down  from  the  mountain 
range,  have  hollowed  out  great  channels  westward, 
towards  the  Mediterranean.  Much  deeper  are  the 
gullias  eastward,  where  the  descent  ls  steeper, 
towards  the  Jordan.  Most  of  these  are  quite  dry 
during  the  greater  part  of  the  year.  Although 
some  are  called  'rivers,'  e.g.  Nahr  el-'Avjeh,  in  the 
Plain  of  Sharon,  and  the  ^ishon,  while  others, 
such  as  el-'Amud,  which  crosses  the  Plain  of  Genne- 
saret,  and  el-Yarmuk,  which  comes  down  from 
the  eastern  uplands,  draw  abundant  supplies  from 
perennial  springs,  yet  '  brook '  more  accurately  de- 
scribes them. 

The  Kidron  contains  water  only  after  heavy 
rains.  It  is  the  one  '  brook '  mentioned  in  the 
Gospels.  Over  it  Jesus  passed  from  the  upjier 
room  to  Gethsemane  on  the  night  of  His  betrayal. 

The  name  jilip,  from  mp>  is  usually  referred  to  the  dark 
colour  of  the  stream  or  ravine.  The  various  forms  of  the  name 
in  Gr.  are  toD  xilpou,  rotj  xilpuv,  and  tuv  xApuv.  WH  in  'Notes 
on  Select  Readings,'  after  reviewing  the  evidence,  conclude  in 
favour  of  tuv  xi^pm.  '  It  probably  preserves  the  true  etymology 
of  pilp,  which  seems  to  be  an  archaic  (?  Canaanite)  plural  of 
"n^  "  the  Dark  [trees] " ;  for,  though  no  name  from  this  root 
is  applied  to  any  tree  in  Bib.  Heb.,  some  tree  resembling  a 
cedar  was  called  by  a  similar  name  in  at  least  the  later  lan- 
guage (see  exx.  in  Buxtorf,  Lex.  Talm.  1976);  and  the  Gr. 
xthpiK  is  probably  of  Phcenician  origin.'  They  suggest  that 
isolated  {latches  of  cedar  forests  may  have  survived  from  pre- 
historic times.  Lightfoot  quotes  (Chorag.  Cent.  40)  a  Talmudic 
reference  to  two  gigantic  cedars  standing  on  the  Mt.  of  Olivea 
even  in  the  latest  days  of  the  Temple  (Jerus.  Taanith,  fol.  69. 1), 
which  may  be  taken  as  supporting  this  view. 

The  valley  begins  in  the  wide  hollow  between 
the  city  and  Mt.  Scopus  on  the  north.  Turning 
southward,  and  passing  under  the  eastern  battle- 
ments, by  a  deep  ravine  it  cuts  off  Jerusalem  from 
Olivet.  It  is  joined  by  the  Valley  of  Hinnom,  and 
thence,  as  Wacly  en-Ndr,  '  Valley  of  Fire,'  it  -Nvinds 
Aowa  an  ever  deepening  gorge,  through  the  Wilder- 
ness of  Judsea,  to  the  edge  of  the  Dead  Sea.  The 
name  Wady  er-Bdhib,  'Valley  of  the  Monks,' 
attaching  to  part  of  it,  oomes  from  the  convent  of 
M.ar  Saba,  built  on  the  right-hand  face  of  the 
gor"e,  a  sort  of  reformatory  for  refractory  monks, 
in  tlie  midst  of  the  wilderness. 

The  modern  name  of  the  brook  ^idron  is  Wady 
Sitti  Mar  yam,  'Valley  of  the  Lady  Mary.'  As 
early  as  Eusebius  and  Jerome  it  was  known  as  the 
Valley  of  Jehoshaphat,  Jl  3-  [Heb.  4^].  According 
to  a  tradition,  common  to  Jews,  Moslems,  and 
Christians,  this  is  to  be  the  scene  of  tlie  final  Judg- 
ment. As  against  the  Temple,  which  overlooked 
it,  the  valley  ranked  as  an  unclean  district,  and  it 


238 


BROTHERHOOD 


BROTHERHOOD 


seems  to  liave  afforded  burying-ground  for  people 
of  the  humbler  orders  (2  K  23").     To  this  day  the 
Jews  greatly  covet  a  grave  in  the  Kidron  valley. 
AV.  EwiXG. 

BROTHERHOOD The  word  (doeX^dr,,?)  does  not 

occur  at  all  in  the  Gospels,  and  is  found  only  twice 
in  the  NT  (1  P  i"  and  5").  The  idea,  however,  is 
common  and  of  very  great  importance. 

1.  The  natural  brotherhood  of  man  is  assumed 
rather  than  asserted.  It  probably  underlies  Clirist's 
argument  about  the  Sabbath  {Mk  2"  and  parallels), 
and  also  such  language  as  is  found  in  Lk  15""'-  and 
16^.  This  is  the  more  likely  in  view  of  such  OT 
passages  as  Gn  Y^-^  9=',  Job  31"-i=,  and  Mai  2'» 
(which  regard  it  as  a  corollary  of  our  creation  by 
the  one  God  and  Father),  and  Lv  19"- "  (which 
not  only  commands  love  of  neighbour,  but  also  ex- 
plicitly enjoins  like  love  for  the  stranger).  HUlel 
and  other  Rabbis  gave  this  law  the  broadest  in- 
terpretation, and  Philo  declares  that  mnn  must 
love  the  whole  world  as  well  as  God  (see  Koliltr, 
Jewish  Encyc.  art.  'Brotherly  Love,'  and  IMonte- 
fiore  in  the  JQR,  April  1895).  This,  however,  does 
not  represent  the  dominant  feeling  among  the 
Jews  in  our  Lord's  time.  They  narrowed  the  term 
'neighbour,'  as  His  language  in  Mt  5"  plainly 
implies.  It  was  the  scribe's  suggestion  of  this 
naiTOW  view  that  drew  from  Jesus  the  parable  of 
the  Good  Samaritan,  in  which  the  terra  '  neigh- 
bour '  is  made  the  equivalent  of  brother-man  (Lk 
10^- )• 

Into  this  brotherhood  Christ  entered  when  He 
'became  flesh.'  That  at  least  is  implied  in  the 
title  '  Son  of  Man  '  which  He  so  frequently  applies 
to  Himself.  He  was  '  the  seed  ot  the  woman.' 
The  Son  of  Mary,  of  David,  of  Abraham,  was  also 
Son  of  Adam  (Lk  3^)  and  one  of  the  race. 

Yet  of  natural  brotherhood  the  NT  has  sur- 
prisingly little  to  say.  Very  little  importance  is 
attached  to  it.  No  hopes  are  built  on  it.  The 
reason,  doubtless,  is  that  it  had  been  destroyed  by 
sin — a  melancholy  fact  visible  in  the  threshold 
tragedy  of  Cain  and  Abel.  Such  is  St.  Paul's 
summary  of  OT  teaching  (Ro  S^-'^).  So  Jesus 
found  it  when  He  was  in  the  world.  Men  were 
dead  to  brotlierhood  as  to  all  else  that  was  wholly 
good  (Jn  6»,  cf.  Eph  2'}.  For  thirty  years  He 
moved  among  men  with  a  true  Brother's  heart, 
but  met  no  equal  response,  even  among  those 
peculiarly  His  own  (Jn  l'"- ").  '  Of  the  peoples 
there  was  no  man  with  him'  (Is  63').  He  was 
sorrowfully  alone  (Is  53^),  standing  among  sinful 
men  like  one  unharmed  temple  amid  a  city's  ruins. 

2.  The  new  brotherhood. — Under  these  circum- 
stances nothing  short  of  a  new  beginning  would 
serve.  Anything  less  radical  must  fail.  A  new 
creation  is  necessary  (Gal  6").  This  Jesus  states 
explicitly.  Men  rausi  be  born  again  (Jn  3' ;  cf. 
Eph  2^).  They  must  be  redeemed  from  sin  and 
given  a  new  life.  This  was  His  appointed  mission 
(Mt  1~,  Jn  lO"").  To  that  work  He  formally  dedi- 
cated Himself  in  His  b.iptism,  which  also  sym- 
bolized the  nu'iuis  l.\  w  hirh  tlie  redemption  should 
be  eflected,  num.  lv!  Hi-  ..uii  death  (with  Mt  3'=, 
cf.  Mt  20^  2t)^-  Hiul  l;.,  3-  -\  1  Co  15»,  Eph  1',  1  P 
V- '",  Rev  P).  Temiited  to  swerve  from  it.  He  held 
to  that  stern,  slow  path.  Meantime  He  begins  to 
gather  about  Him  a  band  of  brothers  on  the  new 
basis.  They  are  such  as  believe  or  receive  Him. 
In  faith  they  follow  Him  and  forsake  all  else  (Mk 
^18. 20  1028^  i;;^  1433).  That  it  is  no  mere  external 
following  is  manifest.  A  N-ital  union  is  established 
between  them  and  Him,  the  significance  of  which 
is  indicated  by  the  figure  of  the  vine  and  tlie 
branches  (Jn  15'"*).  The  new  birth  is  effected  (Jn 
1'""),  the  new  life  received  (Jn  6"  1<P-^),  and 
their  sins  graciously  forgiven  (Mk  2'"",  Lk  7"''" ; 
cf.  Col  1").     Thus  they  become  partakers  of  the 


Divine  nature  (2  P  l-"),  children  or  sons  of  God 
T^Km,  i-loi,  1  Jn  3'«,  Ro8»-i«-2',  Gal  3=«4'),  endowed 
with  a  deatliless  life  (Gal  3=»,  Jn  10=«),  and  Christ 
)iecomes  the  firstborn  among  many  brethren  (Eo 
S"').  Elsewhere  the  change  is  called  a  new  creation 
{2  Co  5",  Gal  6'S  Eph  2'"),  of  which  Christ  is  tlie 
beginning  (Rev  3»,  Col  V% 

It  is  this  profound  experience  which  underlies 
,ind  accounts  for  tlie  remarkalile  statements  of  Jn 
l'"'-''.  St.  Peter's  new  name  is  a  sign  of  it  (v.''-); 
tlie  'Israelite  indeed  in  whom  is  no  guile'  is  a 
condensed  description  of  the  new  man  (v.'";  cf.  Ps 
32-,  the  first  half  of  which  is  the  germ  of  Ro  3-'- 
5-',  and  the  second  of  Ro  6' -8'").  These  men  are 
nearer  to  Jesus  now  than  any  other  persons.  Hence 
the  appropriateness  of  the  strong  language  of  this 
early  record  in  the  most  spiritual  of  the  four 
Gospels.  St.  John  had  learned  meantime  the 
potency  of  the  faith  that  began  so  simply,  and  in 
the  light  of  that  recalls  those  wonderful  earlj- 
utterances  and  the  steady  progress  of  their  faith 
from  strengtli  to  strength. 

Equally  appropriate  is  the  Cana  incident  which 
immediately  follows  (Jn  2'"").  There  Jesus  breaks 
with  the  old  order  in  the  words,  '  Woman,  what 
have  I  to  do  with  thee?'  Addressed  as  they  were 
to  her  who  represented  it  in  its  fondest  tie,  they 
show  the  break  to  be  of  the  most  absolute  sort. 
That  is  the  negative  side,  the  turning  from  the 
old  ;  the  positive,  the  turning  to  the  new,  is  indi- 
cated by  the  place  assigned  to  the  disciples  in  the 
record.  They  are  identified  with  Him  as  others 
are  not,  and  especially  in  a  growing  faith,  to  which 
others — even  His  mother  and  His  brethren — are 
as  yet  strangers.  AVhat  was  there  ta,u('ht  in  the 
veiled  language  of  sign  is  taught  plainly  and  ex- 
plicitly in  Mt  12«="»'  and  Mk  S''-'^.  How  far  Mary 
and  His  brothers  were  from  understanding  Him, 
how  wide  the  gulf  was  that  separated  Him  from 
them,  is  shown  by  the  fact  recorded  in  Mk  3-'  that 
they  regarded  Him  as  out  of  His  mind.  The  dis- 
ciples, on  the  other  hand,  are  seated  about  Him 
drinking  in  His  sayings.  Them  He  declares  to  be 
His  mother  and  His  brethren  (Mt  12*»).  And  look- 
ing upon  the  multitude  also  sitting  around  and 
listening  to  His  words.  He  generalizes  the  teaching 
and  deSares  that  '  A\liosoever  shall  do  tlie  will 
of  God,  the  same  is  my  brother,  and  sister,  and 
mother'  (Mk  3''-^).  Such  constitute  the  new 
brotherhood. 

(1)  So  the  first  characteristic  of  the  new  brethren 
is  that  they  do  the  will  of  God.  Tliey  are  in  right 
relation  to  Him.  When  men  are  not  so,  they  can- 
not be  rightly  related  to  one  another.  To  be  bound 
together  by  the  tie  of  brotherhood,  they  must  first 
be  bound  by  the  filial  tie  to  God,  their  Heavenly 
Father.  Loving  obedience  is  the  test  and  evidence 
of  that  (1  Jn  5',  Jn  14"-=i). 

It  is  worth  noting  that  this  is  the  first  CTeat  law  of  the  King- 
dom of  heaven  (Sit  U,  and  summarized  in  v. 33).  Really  the 
brotherhood  and  the  Kingdom  (in  one  sense  of  the  term)  are 
different  aspects  of  the  same  thing.  As  to  membership  the  two 
are  coextensive.  God  is  at  once  Father  and  King ;  the  brethren 
are  both  subjects  and  children,  'fellow-citizens  with  the  saints 
and  of  the  household  of  God '  (Eph  21").  Both  ideas  run  through 
the  Sermon  on  the  Mount,  which  is  Christ's  proclamation  of 
the  nature  and  principles  of  the  Kingdom. 

Doubtless  the  new  brotherhood  and  the  Church  may  be 
similarlv  equated.  Their  membership  too  should  coincide. 
This  is  "indicated  not  only  by  Christ's  solemn  recall  of  Peter's 
new  name,  and  His  assertion  that  His  church  should  be  built  of 
such  confessors  as  he  (Mt  1«18),  but  also  by  the  uniform  practice 
in  the  Acts  and  Epistles  of  referring  to  the  members  of  the 
churches  as  '  brethren. ' 

(2)  The  second  characteristic  is  that  they  love 
one  another.  Loxang  God  as  their  Father  they 
instinctively  love  also  His  other  children,  theh' 
brothers  (1  Th  4»,  1  Jn  4*'  and  5').  This  is  Christ's 
new  commandment  and  the  badge  of  discipleship 
(Jn  13^'-).  Though  an  old  command,  it  has  been 
made  new  in  experience  by  Christ's  death  for  them. 


BEOTHERHOOD 


BUILDING 


239 


And  they  in  turn  make  it  new  afresh  when  they 
lay  down  their  life  for  one  another  (1  Jn  3'^,  S'"")- 
The  love  that  makes  the  greatest  sacrifice  will 
make  the  lesser.  In  the  OT  the  law  of  Israel's 
brotherhood  enjoined  kindness,  and  definitely  for- 
bade such  sins  as  contempt,  extortion,  oppression, 
etc.  (Dt  22'-^  23'-  '»'■  24'- 1^  25^,  and  elsewhere).  So 
in  the  NT  special  mention  is  made  of  charity  ( 1  .In 
3",  Ja  2'5-i^);  hospitality  (He  \S\  Ro  12'');  fm 
giveness_  (Col  3'-') ;  truthfulness  (Eph  4-'');  iiiniu.il 
admonition  (2  Th  3'-');  a  humility  that  iiirin 
others  and  renders  even  lowly  service  (III  is'  '', 
Jn  13'=-",  Ro  12'",  Ph  2i-",  IP  5"-);  practical 
sympathy  with  the  persecuted  (He  12^),  etc. 
Brotherly  love  insists  on  the  essential  equality 
of  those  who  are  of  the  same  family.  Natural 
affection  exists  among  them  (Ro  12'"  tpiX/uTTopyoi). 
There  can  be  no  caste  among  them  (Col  3") ;  all 
selfish  ambition  and  striving  after  pre-eminence 
must  be  eschewed,  and  the  way  of  service  chosen 
(Mt  20^°"^).  Differences  of  gifts  are  recognized. 
But  those  who  are  one  in  Christ  must  regard 
them  not  as  signs  of  inferiority  and  superiority, 
or  grounds  of  pride  and  servility,  but  as  means  of 
mutual  helpfulness,  and  as  all  necessary  to  the 
general  well-being.  Different  gifts  are  different 
functions  for  the  common  good.  For  Christ  and 
His  brethren  form  a  body,  and  each  member  is 
necessary  to  the  perfect  well-being  of  the  rest. 
This  is  developed  in  Ro  12,  1  Co  12,  and  Eph  4. 

The  love  the  brethren  bear  each  other  is  special. 
It  is  distinguished  from  that  they  feel  toward 
those  that  are  without  (1  P  2"  and  2  P  1').  It  is 
closer,  more  affectionate,  complacent,  satisfying. 
But  they  must  love  others — even  their  bitterest 
enemies.  So  do  they  become  like  their  Father  in 
heaven  (Mt  5^-^  ;  cf.  St.  Paul  in  Ro  O'-^). 

Christ  calls  them  His  brethren,  and  is  not 
ashamed  to  do  so  (He  2").  Still  His  position  in  the 
brotherhood  is  unique.  He  is  one  of  them,  yet 
He  transcends  them.  He  is  Master  and  Lord  (Jn 
13'2'-)  as  they  are  not  nor  should  seek  to  be  (Mt 
238-10)  YoT  He  is  Son  of  God  in  a  unique  sense 
(jiovoyev'^!,  Jn  3'"  and  1'*,  in  which  the  reading  fleos 
is  probably  correct  and  explains  the  uniqueness). 
That  truth  He  ever  guards  in  the  expressions  He 
employs.  Examples  are  seen  in  Mt  11"  and  fre- 
quently in  the  Fourth  Gosijel ;  in  Mt  6",  where  the 
emphatic  '  ye '  and  the  character  of  the  prayer 
exclude  Him  from  the  '  our,'  and  in  Jn  20",  wliere 
distinction,  not  identity,  of  relation  is  intended. 
_  When  the  law  of  brotherhood  is  lived  out  in 
sincerity  and  truth,  in  justice  and  righteousness, 
in  courage  and  faith,  in  all  wisdom  and  spiritual 
understanding,  the  solution  of  social  problems  will 
be  hastened.  These  problems  are  not  new.  But 
they  are  seen  to-day  as  never  before.  Conditions 
that  once  were  accepted  are  accepted  no  longer  as 
just  or  right  or  tolerable.  And  it  is  precisely 
because  Christ's  ideas  of  brotherhood  have  grown 
clearer  to  men's  minds  that  they  feel  the  inequali- 
ties and  injustices  of  the  present  order.  That  is 
the  cause  of  the  present  discontent.  Christ  fore- 
saw that  such  conflicts  would  be  occasioned  by  His 
gospel  (Mt  10'*-»s)_  And  nothing  but  the  gospel 
that  has  caused  the  conflict  can  bring  the  proper 
issue.  The  cause  must  be  the  cure.  Loyalty  to 
the  way  of  the  Cross  is  the  way  of  salvation.  The 
age  waits  for  Christians  to  embark  in  the  honest, 
whole-hearted  application  of  the  great  principle  of 
brotherly  love.  It  will  not  do  to  say  with  Wernle 
that  Christ's  demands  are  impractical  for  any 
society.  They  are  impractical  for  any  society  that 
lacks  the  martyr  spirit.  They  are  not  impractical 
for  the  society  that  is  charged  with  it.  Christ's 
way  was  the  way  of  the  Cross.  That  is  the  only 
way  that  leads  to  victory.  Only  in  the  spirit  of 
Jesus  can  the  world's  need  be  met,  and  its  problems 


finally  solved.  For  that  the  new  brotherhood  has 
been  created.  Only  the  fresh  vision  of  the  Father's 
love,  the  surrender  to  the  Saviour's  Cross,  and 
the  appropriation  of  the  Spirit's  power  will  in- 
spire, fit,  and  equip  it  for  the  holy  task  to  which 
God  summons. 


'  "        '   ■'  ..■,•!  'Li. lings 

'"'■■  "'  ^1 '  ■'■■■  ■"'  -   .  '  ■'.■•  "'  '■/..:,/ .'    ,  ,  Mil  .  -iirrially 

lV-ul..>,l.r.^./..'".s  (-/-,»<  ami  Ihv  ,.,«■„,/  i,„cM,nn  ;  .Matht-ws'  The 
Social  Teachinij  oj  Jeaua ;  and  TulaLoi,  pu6t>lm. 

J.  H.  Farmer. 
BROTHERLY  LOYE.— See  Brotherhood  and 
Love. 

BUFFETING In  Mt  26"'  and  Mk  H""  this  word 

(Gr.  Ko\at/>lioj)  is  used  to  describe  the  ill-treatment 
received  by  Christ  in  the  house  of  the  high  priest 
after  His  condemnation  was  pronounced.  The 
crowd  present  seems  to  have  participated  in  inflict- 
ing this  personal  indignity.  St.  Mark,  with  his 
usual  attention  to  details,  notices  that  the  officers 
received  Him  with  blows  of  their  hands.  /coXa^ifu 
carries  the  significance  of  a  blow  with  tlie  clenched 
fist  (K(i\a0os,  'a  fist').  It  vividly  represents  the 
brutal  manual  violence  to  which  our  Lord  was  sub- 
jected. The  word  also  came  to  imply  a  meaning 
of  general  ill-usfige  or  persecution,  and,  as  such" 
occurs  in  1  Co  4",  2  Co  12'  ('a  thorn  in  the  flesh,  a 
messenger  of  Satan  to  bufi'et  me '),  1  P  2-" ;  cf. — 
'  A  man  that  fortune's  buffets  and  rewards 
Hath  ta'en  with  equal  thanks.' 

—Hamlet,  Act  ni.  So.  ii. 

W.  S.  Kerr. 
BUILDING  {ohoSo/j.'n,  3  times  ;  olKoSofie'ip ,  23  times 
in  the  Gospels).—!.  Literal.— The  lifetime  of  Jesus 
nearly  coincides  with  the  period  which  was  un- 
doubtedly the  golden  age  of  building  in  Palestine. 
The  Herods,  with  their  '  Napoleonic  passion  for 
architecture,'  eclipsed  in  this  respect  even  the  fame 
of  Solomon,  and  left  their  mark  in  all  parts  of  the 
country  in  the  shape  of  palaces,  fortresses,  theatres, 
and  a  variety  of  splendid  structures,  some  serving 
a  useful  purpose  (as  the  great  harbour  at  Ctesarea), 
but  many  arising  merely  out  of  a  love  of  pomp  and 
display.  Herod  the  Great  had  begun  his  extensive 
work  of  rebuilding  the  Temple  at  Jerusalem  nine- 
teen years  before  the  Christian  era,  and  the  work 
was  still  in  progress  at  the  time  of  Christ's  final 
visit  to  the  city  (Mt  24'- 2,  Mk  13'-,  Lk  2P-«). 
Herod  Antipas  began  the  foundations  of  his  am- 
bitious new  city  of  Tiberias  sliortly  Iipfoie  .lesus 
emerged  from  the  obscurity  of  Nazaivtli  ;  and  I'ilate 
was  engaged,  during  the  publii  niiiii-liy  c.i  .lesus, 
in  constructing  an  elaborate  a(|iuilu(  t  Im  Jeru- 
salem. It  is  certain  that,  whercvtjr  Jusus  went. 
He  would  hear  the  sound  of  hammer  and  chisel ; 
He  would  observe  the  frequent  construction  of  a 
class  of  building  hitherto  little  favoured  in  His 
country,  such  as  hippodromes,  baths  and  gymnasia 
(Jos.  Ant.  XV.  viii.  1) ;  and  would  notice  the  adop- 
tion of  a  style  of  architecture  foreign  to  Jewish 
tradition. 

It  was  not  only  Herodian  princes,  Roman  mag- 
nates, and  well-to-do  proselytes  (see  Lk  7^)  who 
lavished  large  sums  on  buildings.  Wealthy  Jews 
seem  to  have  spent  fortunes  in  erecting  luxurious 
mansions  in  the  Grseco-Roman  style.  Jesus  men- 
tions this  eagerness  for  building  as  one  of  the 
Eassions  which  preoccupied  His  generation,  and 
;d  Him  to  compare  it  with  the  materialist  and 
pleasure-seeking  age  in  which  Lot  lived  (Lk  17'-"). 
He  gives  a  vivid  description  of  a  prosperous  farmer 
designing  ampler  store-houses  on  his  estate  (Lk 
12'").  In  another  passage  He  probably  alludes  to 
some  actual  instance  of  the  building-mania  over- 


240 


BUILDING 


BURDEN 


reaching  itself,  when  He  describes  the  tower  left 
half  finished  for  lack  of  funds  (Lk  14-^).  In  His 
denunciation  of  the  Pharisees  who  '  build  the 
sepulchres  of  the  prophets,  and  garnish  the  tombs 
(livriiieia)  of  the  righteous'  (Mt  23^),  He  refers  per- 
haps to  the  growing  practice,  unknown  in  the  pre- 
Grecian  period,  begun,  it  seems,  in  Maccab;ean 
times,  and  now  become  a  dilettante  cult,  of  erect- 
ing monumental  tombs  '  reared  aloft  to  the  siglit ' 
(1  Mac  13'^),  as  distinguished  from  the  simple  rock- 
he^vn  tombs  of  former  days.*     See  ToMB. 

O.  Holtzmann  {Life  of  Jesxts,  p.  100  f.)  suggests  a  special 
reason  for  the  frequent  references  which  Jesus  maizes  to  build- 
ing operations.  He  calls  attention  to  the  fact  that  the  handi- 
craft in  which  He  had  been  brought  up  was  one  of  the  building 
trades.  It  is  usual,  indeed,  to  describe  Him  as  '  the  carpenter' 
(Mk  63),  and  the  passage  is  often  cited  in  which  Justin  Martyr 
iTrypho,  88)  represents  Him  as  'making  ploughs  and  yokes.' 
But  Justin  Martyr  is  quoting  nothing  more  than  a  popular 
tradition,  and  there  is  no  reason  for  limiting  the  term  r^xraiv  to 
a  worker  in  wood.  There  was  hardly  the  division  of  Labour  at 
Nazareth  that  exists  among  our  own  mechanics.  The  epithet 
TixTuv  has  probably  not  less  significance  than  the  term  *  car- 
penter '  as  used  in  Hamlet,  v.  i.  46—'  What  is  he  that  builds 
stronger  than  either  the  mason,  the  shipwright,  or  the  carpenter?', 
where  it  indicates  one  who  has  to  do  with  the  construction  of 
buildings.  We  may  say  that  there  is  good  reason  to  conclude 
that  Jesus  was  Himself  a  builder,  and  that  He  understood  at 
least  the  art  of  ordinary  house-construction,  though  it  can  hardly 
be  admitted  that  the  passages  which  Holtzmann  quotes  in  sup- 
port of  this  are  sufficient  to  prove  his  point.  By  a  similar 
method  it  is  easy  to  prove  that  Shakspeare  was  a  lawyer  or  a 
doctor,  a  Eonmnist  or  a  Puritan. 

On  the  other  hand,  it  is  not  to  be  inferred,  from 
the  somewhat  disparaging  terms  in  which  Jesus 
appears  to  have  alluded  to  the  building  operations 
of  His  time,  that  He  was  insensible  to  the  beauties 
of  arcliitecture,  or  that  there  was  an  iconoclastic 
strain  in  His  nature.  It  would  be  easy  to  marshal 
passages  from  the  Gospels  with  the  object  of  show- 
ing tliat  He  was  indifferent  to,  and  even  evinced 
contempt  for,  sacred  places  and  ediliees.  But  such 
a  conclusion  would  be  contrary  to  all  that  we 
know  of  His  many-sided  sympathy  and  genial 
tolerance.  Rather  was  the  case  this — that,  like 
St.  Paul  amid  the  temples  of  Athens,  or  like  St. 
Francis  of  Assisi,  careless  of  cathedrals  in  an  age 
of  cathedral-builders,  He  found  His  contemporaries 
so  smitten  with  the  love  of  outward  magnificence, 
so  absorbed  in  the  thought  of  the  material  edifice, 
that  He  bent  His  whole  effort  to  the  task  of  em- 
phasizing the  inward  and  spiritual  si  !U(t>ni\  It  is 
therefore  in  this  direction  that  .ill  the  un'at  say- 
ings of  Christ  about  buikliii;,'  Iciuk.  On  each 
occasion  when  He  is  led  to  .speak  <jf  a  temple, 
wliether  at  Jerusalem  or  in  Samaria,  He  takes 
the  opportunity  of  insisting  that  the  only  true 
Temple  is  one  not  made  with  hands. 

It  may  De  suggested  that  some  of  His  sayings  of 
this  kind  are  lost,  but  that  the  reminiscence  or 
influence  of  them  is  to  be  traced  in  the  remarkably 
frequent  use  by  the  NT  writers  of  the  term  '  build- 
ing' in  a  spiritual  .sense,  wliether  applied  to  t!ie 
individual  believer  or  to  the  company  of  the  faithful 
(see,  e.g.,  Ac  20^-,  1  Co  3^  Col  2',  1  'P  2=  etc.).  And 
just  as  Jesus  said,  '  Ye  are  a  city  set  on  a  hill,'  He 
may  well  have  said,  '  Ye  are  the  temple  of  God.' 

2.  Figurative. — The  actual  passages  in  which 
Jesus  spiritualizes  the  term  '  building '  may  be 
grouped  under  three  heads. 

(1)  In  two  remarkable  passages  Christ  speaks  of 
Himself  as  a  Builder,  (a)  The  first  of  these  (Mt 
26"',  Mk  14°*,  Jn  2"),  while  it  is  certainly  a  genuine 
saying  of  Christ's,  has  come  down  to  us  in  a  form 
which  leaves  us  doubtful  as  to  the  exact  connexion 
in  which  it  was  first  uttered.  The  general  sense, 
however,  is  clear  enough.     The  buildings  of  the 

•  Furrer  (Wanderunaen,  p.  77)  and  Fergusson  (The  Ti-mples 
of  the  Jews,  p.  142  f.)  think  that  the  Tomb  of  Zecluirias  in  tlie 
V'alley  of  Jehoshaphat,  '  a  lovely  little  temple,  with  .  .  .  ]>iil;irs 
of  the  Ionic  order,"  belongs  to  the  first  years  of  the  Ist  cent,  of 


Temple  might  be  razed  to  the  ground,  but  Christ, 
by  His  presence  among  His  people,  would  per- 
petuate the  true  sanctuary  (cf.  Mt  IS™,  Jn  4="). 
Had  the  author  of  the  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews  this 
saying  in  his  mind  when  he  referred  to  Christ 
(He  3^)  as  the  'builder  of  the  house'?  (6)  The 
second  passage  is  that  in  which  Christ  contem- 
plates Himself  as  the  Builder  of  His  Church  (Mt 
16'").  That  with  which  He  is  concerned  is  not  the 
material  edifice  reared  on  the  rocky  summit  of 
Mount  Moriah,  but  the  spiritual  building — the 
body  of  believers — founded  on  a  common  faith  in 
Himself. 

(2)  In  one  passage,  cited  from  the  OT,  Jesus  varies 
the  metaphor.  In  the  'germ -parable' of  the  Re- 
jected Stone  (Mt  21«,  Mk  12'",  Lk  20")  He  is  no 
longer  the  Builder,  but  the  Foundation.  In  the 
original  passage  (P.s  118--)  the  Rejected  Stone  is 
Israel,  but  Christ  appropriates  the  image  to  Him- 
self, and  once  more  draws  attention  to  the  fact 
that  the  work  of  God  proceeds  on  lines  not  to  be 
anticipated  by  a  type  of  mind  which  is  governed 
by  worldly  considerations. 

(3)  In  two  minor  parables  Jesus  uses  the  art  of 
building  to  illustrate  the  principles  which  must 
animate  His  followers,  (a)  In  Mt  7",  Lk  6'"  He 
shows  that,  as  the  stability  of  a  house  depends  on 
the  nature  of  its  foundation,  so  stability  of  char- 
acter can  be  attained  only  when  a  man  uniformly 
makes  the  word  of  truth  which  he  has  received  the 
basis  of  his  behaviour.  Doing  is  the  condition 
of  progress.  Christian  attainment  is  broad-based 
upon  obedience  (cf.  Jn  7").  (6)  In  Lk  14"-8  He 
checks  a  shallow  enthusiasm,  apt  quickly  to  eva- 
porate, by  reminding  impulsive  disciples  that  for 
great  woAs  great  pains  are  required.  The  parable 
is  the  Gospel  equivalent  of  our  saying,  '  Rome  was 
not  built  in  a  day,' with  special  reference,  however, 
to  the  necessity  of  the  individual  giving  himself 
up,  in  absolute  devotion,  to  his  task  (cf.  Shak- 
speare, 3  Henry  IV.  I.  iii.  41). 

The  foregoing  passages  exhaust  the  sayings,  as 
reported  in  the  Evangelic  tradition,  in  which  our 
Lord  employed  the  image  of  building.  But,  we 
may  ask,  whence  did  St.  Paul  derive  his  favourite 
expression,  applied  both  to  the  Church  and  to  the 
individual,  of  edifying  1  (see  Ro  15=,  1  Co  14«,  Eph 
4'=  etc. ).  It  does  not  appear  that  oUoSoiieiv  was  ever 
used  by  classical  writers  in  this  sense.  Fritzsche 
(Ep.  ad  Rom.  iii.  p.  205)  thinks  that  St.  Paul 
derived  it  from  tlie  OT  usage,  nj;  being  sometimes 
used,  with  the  accusative  of  the  person,  in  the 
signification  of  blessing  (see  Ps  28^,  Jer  24").  But 
is  it  not  at  least  as  likely  that  St.  Paul  derived 
the  metaphorical  use  from  the  custom  of  Christ, 
who  so  often  and  with  such  emnhasis  applied 
building  terms  to  the  spiritual  condition  alike  of 
tlie  individual  and  of  the  company  of  believers  ?  If 
Christ  did  not  Himself  use  the  expression  '  edify,' 
all  His  teaching  pointed  that  way. 

Literature.  —  Hausrath,  Hist,  of  NT  Times,  §5  5,  10,  11; 
articles  '  Baukunst'  in  PRE'^  and  '  Architecture'  in  Hastings' 
DB ;  Josephua,  Ant.  xv.  viii.  1,  ix.  4-6,  x.  3,  xvi.  v.  2,  BJ  i.  xiii. 
8,  xxi.  1-11,  VII.  viii.  3;  Schiirer,  GJV^  ii.  170,  430,  44G,  etc.; 
O.  Holtzmann,  Life  of  Jesus,  p.  100 1.  etc. 

J.  Ross  Murray. 
BORDEN.— Both  in  Christ's  discourse  against 
the  Pharisees  (Mt  23',  Lk  11'")  and  in  His  saying, 
'Come  unto  me,'  etc.  (Mt  11=*-*'),  the  'burden' 
{<popTLov)  is  that  of  the  legal  and  Pharisaic  ordi- 
nances of  such  a  minute  and  exacting  kind  that 
they  became  intolerable  and  crushed  out  real 
heart-religion.  '  My  burden,'  Christ  says,  '  is  light ' 
in  comparison  with  these  ;  for  I  put  men  under  the 
law  of  love,  which  is  a  law  of  liberty.  With  loving, 
^;racious  hearts.  My  disciples  become  a  law  unto 
themselves.  The  new  law  is  written  on  the  fleshy 
tables  of  the  heart.     St.  Peter,  in  Ac  15'",  speaks 


I 


BURIAL 


BURIAL 


241 


of  the  traditional  legal  observances  as  a  yoke 
which  'neither  ye  nor  your  fatliers  were  able  to 
bear,'  while  faith  in  Clnist  can  purify  the  heart 
and  make  strict  rules  for  outward  conduct  un- 
necessary. In  Mt  IP"  Jesus  gives  utterance  to 
the  germ  at  least  of  the  Pauline  idea  of  a  new 
spirit  of  life  in  Christ  Jesus,  setting  free  from 
condemnation.  While,  in  the  tirst  instance,  Christ 
meant  by  '  burden '  the  Pharisaic  ordinances,  the 
truth  would  become  ever  deeper  to  His  disciples, 
till  they  understood  the  full  contrast  between  the 
fulfilment  of  legal  precepts  through  painful  ellbrt, 
and  the  joyous  service  of  a  li\ing  Cotl  and  Father, 
growing  into  pervading  holines.s  of  character. 

The  '  burden  (/3dpos)  *  of  tlie  day  ami  the  heat,' 
in  the  parable  of  the  Labourers  (Alt  20'-)  is  a  de- 
scription of  toil  which  strains  and  wearies.  In  the 
interpretation  of  tlie  parable,  if  any  stress  were 
laid  on  this  detail,  it  might  be  the  long  and  con- 
scientious fulfilment  of  duty  in  the  Christian  life, 
which,  thougli  it  must  receive  recognition  in  the 
cml,  _i;i\es  no  claim  on  God  as  one  who  rewards  of 
delit,  nor  allows  the  worker  to  glory  over  another 
who  has  been  less  richly  furnished  with  oppor- 
tunity. 

IjITERATUEB.— On  the  '  burden '  of  Mt  1128-30  ref.  may  be  made 
to  Expos.  Times,  iii.  [1892)  612  ff. ;  Expositor,  Istser.  vii.  [187s] 
p.  348  ff.,  xi.  [ISSOJp.  101  «E. 

David  M.  W.  Laird. 

BURIAL.— In  contrast  to  the  Greek  and  the 
later  Roman  custom  of  cremation,  the  rites  of 
burial  were  observed  amon,t;st  tlie  Jews  with  great 
reverence,  and  an  account  of  their  ordinary  prac- 
tice will  help  to  illustrate  several  passages  in 
the  NT.  Immediately  after  death  the  body  was 
washed  (Ac  9^'),  and  wrapped  in  linen  cloths  in 
the  folds  of  which  sijices  and  ointments  were  laid 
(Jn  193'-'-*').  The  face  was  bound  about  with  a 
napkin,  and  the  hands  and  feet  with  grave-bands 
(Jn  n**  20').  Meanwhile  the  house  had  been 
given  over  to  the  hired  mourners  (Mt  9-'  || ;  of. 
2  Ch.  35-=,  Jer  9"),  who  lamented  for  the  dead  in 
some  such  strains  as  are  preserved  in  Jer  22'',  and 
skilfully  improvised  verses  in  praise  of  his  virtues. 
Tlie  actual  interment  took  place  as  quickly  as  pos- 
sible, mainly  on  sanitary  grounds ;  very  frequently, 
indeed,  on  the  same  day  as  the  death  (Ac 
.")' • '"  8-'),  though  it  might  be  delayed  tor  special 
reasons  (Ac  9^"-).  In  its  passage  to  the  grave  the 
body  was  generally  laid  on  a  bier,  or  open  bed  of 
wicker  work  (Lk  7" ;  cf.  2  S  S^',  2  K  IS-')— lience  at 
Jesus'  command  the  widow  of  Nain's  son  was  able 
to  sit  up  at  once  (Lk  7'°).  The  bier  was,  as  a  rule, 
borne  to  the  tomb  by  the  immediate  friends  of  the 
deceased,  though  we  have  also  traces  of  a  company 
of  public  '  buriers '  (Ac  5«- '« ;  cf.  Ezk  39'--'«).  In 
front  of  the  bier  came  the  women,  and  in  Jndiea 
the  hired  mourners,  and  immediately  after  it  the 
relatives  and  friends,  and  'much  people  of  the 
city.'  Attendance  at  funerals  was,  indeed,  re- 
garded as  a  pious  act,  and  was  consequently  not 
al\yays  wholly  disinterested.  Amon^  modern 
Orientals  it  is  called  '  attending  the  merit,'  an  act 
that  will  secure  a  reward  from  God  (G.  M.  Mackie, 
Bible  Manners  and  Customs,  p.  127). 

The  place  of  burial  in  NT  times  was  always 
outside  the  city  (Lk  7'=,  Jn  ll^",  Mt  21^"^^),  and 
frequently  consisted  of  a  natural  cave,  or  an 
opening  made  in  imitation  of  one.  These  rock- 
sepulchres  were  often  of  considerable  size,  and 
sometimes  permitted  of  the  interment  of  as  many 
as  thirteen  bodies.  Eight,  however,  was  the  usual 
number,  three  on  each  side  of  the  entrance  and 
two  opposite.  The  doorway  to  the  tomb  was  an 
aperture  about  2  ft.  broad  and  4  ft.  high,  and  was 

•  In  Gal  62-  6  Lighttoot  contends  that  l!ipa:  and  c»/"-.'o»  mean, 
respectively,  a  burden  that  may  and  ought  to  be  got  rid  of,  and 


closed  either  by  a  door,  or  by  a  great  stone— the 
ffolel — that  was  rolled  against  it  (Mt  27'''*,  Mk 
15-'«,  Jn  11»™).  It  is  sometimes  thought  that  it 
was  in  some  such  rock-tomb  that  the  demoniac  of 
Gadara  had  taken  up  his  abode ;  but  more  prob- 
ably it  was  in  one  of  the  tombs  'built  above 
ground,'  which  were  '  mucli  more  common  in 
Galilee  than  has  been  supposed'  (Wilson,  Recovery 
of  Jerusalem,  p.  369,  ap.  Swete,  St.  Mark,  p.  88). 

As  a  rule,  sepulchres  were  whitened  once  a  year, 
after  the  rains  and  before  the  Passover,  that  passers- 
by  might  be  warned  of  their  presence,  and  thus 
escape  defilement  (Mt  23=';  cf.  Nu  19i'=).  And 
though  it  was  not  customary  to  erect  anything  in 
the  nature  of  our  gravestones,  in  NT  times  it  was 
regarded  as  a  religious  duty  to  restore  or  rebuild 
the  tombs  of  the  prophets  (Mt23=').  In  addition 
to  family  sepulchres  of  which  we  hear  in  the 
earliest  Hebrew  records  ((.;n  23-",  Jg  8'^  2  S  2^=), 
and  sucli  private  tombs  as  the  tomb  of  Joseph  of 
Arimatha?a  (Mt  27""),  special  provision  was  made 
for  the  interment  of  strangers  (Mt  27'-^;  cf.  Jer 
2(j-'3,  2  Mac  9^).     See  art.  Tomb. 

It  will  have  been  observed  how  many  of  the 
foregoing  particulars  are  illustrated  in  the  Gospel 
narrative  of  the  burial  of  Jesus ;  but  it  may  be 
well  to  summarize  briefly  what  then  took  place. 
No  sooner  had  it  been  placed  beyond  doubt  that 
Jesus  was  really  de.ad,  than  Joseph  of  Arimathoea 
obtained  permission  to  take  possession  of  His  body 
(Mt27"'f- ;  cf.  the  merciful  provision  of  the  Jewish 
law,  Dt  2P2).  Haste  was  required,  as  the  Jews' 
Preparation  was  close  at  hand,  and  the  body,  after 
being,  perhaps,  bathed  (so  Gospel  of  Peter,  6),  was 
at  once  wrapped  '  in  a  clean  linen  cloth '  (Mt  27="), 
the  'roll  of  myrrli  and  aloes,'  of  which  Nicodemus 
had  brought  about  a  hundred  pound  weight  (Jn 
19'"),  being  apparently  crumbled  between  the  folds 
of  the  linen  {dddv^).  It  was  then  borne  to  the 
'  new  tomb  wherein  was  never  man  yet  laid,'  and 
reverently  laid  on  the  rocky  ledge  prepared  for  the 
purpose,  while  the  whole  was  secured  by  a  'great 
stone'  placed  across  the  entrance,  which  was  after- 
wards at  the  desire  of  the  Jews  sealed  and  guarded 
(Mt  27''-f- ;  cf.  Gosprl  of  P Her,  8).  There  the  liody 
remained  undisturbed  over  the  Je^^■ish  Saljbatli  ; 
but  when  on  the  morning  of  tlie  first  day  of  the 
week  the  women  visited  the  tomb,  bringing  with 
them  an  additional  supply  of  '  spices  and  oint- 
ments'  to  complete  the  anointing  which  want  of 
time  had  jjreviously  prevented,  it  was  only  to  find 
the  tomb  empty,  and  to  receive  the  first  assurance 
of  their  Lord's  resurrection  (Lk  24"^-).  In  eon- 
ne.xion  with  this  visit,  Edersheim  has  drawn  atten- 
tion to  the  interesting  fact  tliat  the  Law  expressly 
allowed  the  opening  of  the  grave  on  the  third  day 
to  look  after  the  dead  (Bible  Educator,  iv.  p.  332). 
In  entire  harmony,  too,  with  what  has  already 
been  said  of  the  general  structure  of  Jewish  tombs, 
is  the  account  which  St.  John  has  preserved  for  us 
of  his  own  and  St.  Peter's  visit  to  the  tomb  of  Jesus 
(Jn  20"'-).  He  himself,  when  he  reached  the  door- 
way, was  at  first  content  with  stooping  down 
(7rapaKi5^as)  and  looking  in,  and  thus  got  only  a 
general  view  (^Xkwei)  of  the  linen  cloths  lying  in 
their  place.  But  St.  Peter  on  his  arrival  entered 
into  the  tomb,  and  beheld— the  word  used  (Bcupet) 
points  to  a  careful  searching  gaze,  the  eye  passing 
from  point  to  point— not  only  the  linen  cloths, 
but  the  napkin  that  was  about  Christ's  head 
'  rolled  up  in  a  place  by  itself.'  These  particulars 
have  sometimes  been  used  as  evidence  of  the  care 
and  order  with  which  the  Risen  Lord  folded  up 
and  deposited  in  two  separate  places  His  grave- 
clothes  before  He  left  the  tomb.  But  it  has 
recently  been  shown  with  great  cogency  that  what 
probably  is  meant  is  that  the  grave-clothes  were 
found  undisturbed  on  the  very  spot  where  Jesus 


EURXT-OFFERING 


BUSH 


liad  lain,  the  linen  cloths  on  the  lower  ledge 
which  had  upheld  tlie  body,  tlie  napkin  'by  itself 
on  the  slightly  raised  part  of  the  ledge  wlxieh 
formed  a  kind  of  pillow  for  the  head.  The  empty 
grave-clothes,  out  of  wliich  the  Risen  Lord  had 
passed,  became  thus  a  sign  not  only  that  no 
violence  had  lieen  ofl'ered  to  His  body  by  liuman 
hands,  but  also  a  parable  of  the  true  meaning  of 
His  Resurrection  :  '  all  that  was  of  Jesus  of  Naza- 
reth has  suffered  its  change  and  is  gone.  We— 
grave-clothes,  and  spices,  and  napkin— belong  to 
the  earth  and  remain'  (H.  Latham,  The  JHncn 
Master,  p.  11  :  see  the  whole  interesting  discussion 
in  chapters  i.-iii.). 

Apart  from  tliese  more  special  considerations,  it 
is  sufficient  to  notice  that  the  very  particularity  of 
the  description  of  the  burial  of  Jesus  is  in  itself  of 
importance  as  emphasizing  His  true  humanity  and 
the  reality  of  His  death.  From  nothing  in  our 
lot,  even  the  sad  accompaniments  of  the  grave, 
did  He  shrink.  On  the  other  hand,  the  empty 
grave  on  the  morning  of  the  third  day  has  always 
been  regarded  as  one  of  the  most  convincing  proofs 
that  'the  Lord  is  risen  indeed.'  Had  it  not  been 
so,  then  His  body  must  have  been  stolen  either  by 
friends  or  by  foes.  But  if  by  the  latter,  why  in 
tlie  days  that  followed  did  they  not  ])roduee  it,  and 
so  silence  the  disciples'  claims  ?  If  by  the  former, 
then  we  have  no  escape  from  the  conclusion  that 
the  Church  of  Christ  was  founded  'not  so  much 
upon  delusion  as  upon  fraud— upon  fraud  spring- 
ing from  motives  perfectly  inexplicable,  and  leading 
to  results  totally  difierent  from  any  that  could 
have  been  either  intended  or  looked  for'  (W.  Blilli- 
gaii,  T/w  Ecsurrcction  of  our  Lmd*,  p.  73). 


iiiiburger's  BE;  •Begriibnis  bei  den  Hebraern'  I'RE^; 
Edersheiin,  Sketches  of  Jewish  Social  Life^  p.  161  ff. ;  Thomson, 
Land  and  Book;  Bender,  'Beliefs,  Rites,  and  Customs  of  the 
Jews  connected  with  Death,  Burial,  and  Mourning,'  in  JQR, 
189i  and  1S95.  GEORGE  MiLLIGAN. 

BURNT-OFFERING  is  a  word  of  rare  occurrence 
in  XT  (  Mk  12-',  He  10«- «).  This  is  probably  due  to 
the  fnit  that  th«  more  generic  word  for  sacrifice 
[Hvaia]  is  cciniiiioiily  used,  since  the  distinctions  of 
the  Old  Covenant,  which  was  vanishing  away,  did 
not  require  to  be  perpetuated  in  the  NT  Canon.  It 
is  probable,  however,  from  the  train  of  thought, 
that  in  some  instances  the  sacrifice  which  was  prom- 
inently before  the  mind  of  the  writer  was  the 
liurnt-offering  (Ro  12').  And  though  not  named, 
it  is  latent  in  certain  passages  (see  below).  It  is 
known  in  the  OT  as  the  rh'n  'olah :  more  rarely 
and  partly  in  poetical  passages  as  the  S'^?  Icdlil ; 
in  Ps  5P'  both  terms  are  used.  The  most  common 
LXX  rendering  is  oXoKai>ru^a,  and  in  this  form  it 
appears  in  the  NT.  The  'blah  is  connected  with 
a  root  meaning  '  to  ascend,'  the  idea  being,  prob- 
ably, that  the  essence  of  the  sacrifice  ascended  to 
heaven  in  the  smoke ;  kalU,  witli  a  root  meaning 
'to  be  complete,'  an  idea  reproduced  in  the  LXX 
translation.  Details  of  the  rite  mav  be  found  in 
Lv  \.  6S"  8's-2'.  Unlike  most  sacriHoes,  it  was  to 
Ije  wliolly  burnt  (Lv  1'),  the  skin  only  falling  to 
till'  I'l  i'  -I  .■!  -  III-  ]iiTiiuisite. 

Ti  iiix  w-as  the  principal  sacrifice  of 

till-  ^1  '       '  nation,  and  continued  as  such  till 

till'  .1.  -:iin  ii  .n  Ml  the  Temple  by  Titus.  It  was 
offered,  tin-  \i(tim  being  a  male  yearling  sheep, 
every  morning  and  evening  (Ex  29^-^2) ;  hence  its 
Mishnic  name  tclm'trl,  tlie  perpetual  offering.  In 
addition,  on  Sabbaths,  new  moons,  the  lirst  day  of 
the  si'\enth  month,  the  three  great  feasts,  and  the 
Day  of  Atonement,  other  victims  were  ofl'ered 
(\u  '2,S  f.).  Burnt-offering  was  associated  with 
other  sacrifices  (Lv  9^-*  15"'),  could  be  offered  for 
individuals,  even  Gentiles,  and  even  for  the  Roman 


emperor  (Jos.  Wars,  II.  xvii.  2).  The  altar  stood 
in  the  court  of  the  priests  in  front  of  (eastward  of) 
tlie  Temple  building.  The  offering  was  made 
[lublicly,  in  the  presence  not  merely  of  the  large 
group  of  ministering  priests,  but  also  of  '  the  men 
of  station,'  representatives  of  what  may  be  called 
the  Jewish  laity. 

Although  tlie  word  is  nowhere  recorded  as  being 
spoken  by  Christ,  and  only  once  as  spoken  to  Him, 
it  must  lie  remembered  that  His  connexion  with 
burnt-offering  was,  of  necessity,  more  intimate 
than  the  mere  oc^currence  of  the  word  suggests. 
As  a  Jew,  acquainted  with  the  OT,  He  could  not 
have  been  unacquainted  with  the  Pentateuchal 
legislation  on  this  point ;  nor  is  it  conceivable  that 
as  a  visitor  to  the  Temple  He  failed  to  be  a  wit- 
ness of  this  rite.  The  altar  on  wliich  burnt-offer- 
ing was  offered,  from  its  gi-eat  .size,  its  frequent 
u.se,  and  its  standing  visibly  in  the  court  of  the 
priests,  was  emphatically  'the  altar,'  and  it  was 
before  this  that  He  directed  the  offending  brother 
to  leave  his  gift  (Mt  5^).  At  the  Presentation  in 
the  Temple  (Lk  2^\  cf.  Lv  12«-S)  the  second  of  the 
turtle  doves  was  intended  for  a  burnt-offering  (the 
other  bird  forming  the  usual  sin-offering  at  such 
a  time) ;  it  was  the  ottering  of  the  ix>or,  and  the 
ritual  is  described  in  Lv  1'^-".  The  'i'emple  tax  to 
which  He  contributed  was  in  part  used  for  the 
provision  of  burnt-oflerings  (Mt  17^). 

The  two  occasions  on  which,  in  NT,  the  burnt- 
offering  is  refeiTed  to,  emphasize  the  imperfect  and 
transitoiy  character  of  the  OT  sacrificial  system, 
and  the  spiritual,  perfect,  and  abiding  character  of 
that  whicli  superseded  it.  In  Mk  12**  the  scribe 
inferred  from  our  Lord's  teaching  as  to  the  first 
commandment,  that  to  love  God  with  all  the  heart 
and  one's  neighbour  as  oneself  was  'much  more 
than  all  whole  burnt-offerings  and  sacrifices,'  and 
was  for  this  commended  as  '  not  far  from  the  king- 
dom of  (Jud.'  In  He  10'-*,  where  only  besides  the 
word  occurs,  while  the  writer  dwells  on  many 
points  of  the  Temple,  its  furniture,  and  its  service, 
he  fails  to  apply  the  burnt-ottering  vei-y  closely  to  • 
tlie  redeeming  work  of  Christ.  But  he  quotes 
Ps  40"  as  declarin"  that  the  Divine  pleasure  lies 
not  in  '  victim  and  Slinhah '  (Delitzsch,  in  loc. ),  and 
infers  the  superiority  of  Christ's  obedience  to  any 
expiatory  sacrifice  (sin -offering)  or  dedicatory  sacri- 
fice (burnt-oflering)  presented  by  means  of  an  ani- 
mal victim.  His  obedience  is  the  burnt-offering 
that  has  enduring  value  and  needs  no  repetition. 

LiTEnATCRE.— Articles  on  'Bumt-o£ferinff'  and 'Sacrifice'  in 
Bible  Dicfio)iane.s  of  Hastings,  Smith,  ana  Eticyc.  Bibl. ;  Bible 
A  rch(eolofi!/  of  Keil,  Nowack  ;  Kurtz,  Sacrifiaat  System  <\fOT; 
OT  Theology  of  Schultz,  Oehler ;  Cave,  Scriptural  Doctrine  o/ 
Sacrifice  ;  Edersheim,  The  Temple  :  lis  Ministrt/,  etc. ;  Girdle- 
stone,  Sj/noiti/ms  o/OT;  Schurer,  HJFu.  i.  278fl. 

J.  T.  L.  Maggs. 
BUSH  (/SiTos).- Mk  12="  II  Lk  20"*  refers  to  the 
'Burning  Bush'  (Ex  S--^\  Dt  33i«  where  LXX 
uses  piro!  to  tr.  njp  of  the  original).  Before  the 
[probably  medioeval]  division  into  chapters  and 
verses  it  was  not  easy  to  cite  Scripture  with  pre- 
cision. '  In  or  at  tlie  Bush '  (AV  in  Mark  and 
Luke  respectively)  means  not  '  beside  that  memor- 
able bush,'  but  'in  the  passage  in  Scripture  de- 
scribing the  theophany  in  the  bush '  (R V,  '  in  tfic 
2Jlace  concerning  tiie  Bush '). 

The  derivation  of  .110  is  not  known,  and  afl  attempts  to 
identify  it  have  failed.'  There  is  no  justification  for  the  sug- 
gestion of  Gesenius  (Lexicon,  s.v.)  that  it  is  connected  with  the 
«(»i)io plant,  nor  for  Stanlej-'s  assumption  (Hist,  of  the  Jewish 
Church  (ed.  18S31,  i.  97)  that  it  was  the  wil "         " 


The  fact 


bramble  (Rubus),  but  according  to  Post  (Hastinira*  DB, 
'Bush').  *Rubus  has  not  been  found  wild  in  Sinai,  which  : 
south  of  its  range,  and  climatically  uusuited  to  it.' 


'  The  parallel  pass.ige  in  Matthew  (2231)  omits  the  reference 


BUSHEL 


BUSINESS 


243 


/3dTos  occurs  once  again  in  the  Gospels :  Lk  6^* ; 
AV  and  RV  '  bramble  bush '  [Matthew's  parallel 
(7'")  has  'thorns'].  It  was  thought  necessary  to 
alter  the  translation  ;  the  word  which  in  the  other 
passage  had  such  lofty  associations  is  here  used 
by  Christ  almost  with  contempt.  Moreover,  a 
vme  might  well  enough  be  described  as  a  '  bush ' 
in  the  abstract ;  it  does  not  grow  high,  and  has  no 
strength  of  wood  (Ezk  15).  'Bramble'  in  older 
English  means  '  thorn  bush  '  not  necessarily  '  black- 
berry bush. '  Yet  the  translation  seems  apt  enough, 
even  according  to  modern  usage.  Liddell  and  Scott 
give  /SoTos  as=' blackberry  bush'  or  'wild  rasp- 
berry,' but  the  adjective  |8aT6ei?='thorned.' 

Robert  Mackinto.sh. 

BUSHEL  (6  M65tos,  Mt  51-'',  Mk  'i-\  Lk  ll»-a 
Lat.  word  with  a  Gr.  form).— The  Roman  modius, 
equal  to  16  sextarii,  or  approximately  one  English 
peck,  was  not  a  measure  in  common  use  in  Jewish 
households.  Although  the  definite  article  is  prob- 
ably generic  {'the  bushel,'  so  RV),  the  measure 
wluch  would  lend  itself  naturally  to  our  Lord's 
illustration,  and  tliat  to  which  He  actually  re- 
ferred, was  the  Hebrew  seah  measure  used  by  the 
housewife  in  preparing  the  daily  bread.  While 
the  ^eah  measure  varied  in  size  according  to 
locality,  it  is  generally  regarded  as  being  equal  to 
one  modius  and  a,  quarter,  though  Josephus  {Ant. 
IX.  iv.  5)  states :  '  A  scah  is  equal  to  an  Italian 
modius  and  a  half.' 

To  the  influence  of  Roman  customs  was  no  doubt 
due  the  substitution  of  modius  for  scah  in  the 
report  of  the  saying  (Mt  5''->  etc.);  and  in  like 
manner,  since  no  importance  was  attached  by  our 
Lord  to  exactness  of  measure,  the  familiar  '  bu.shel ' 
of  earlier  English  versions  has  been  retained  by 
the  RV,  although  '  peck '  would  be  a  more  accurate 
rendering. 

The  saying  of  our  Lord  is  as  picturesque  as  it  is 
forcible.  It  gives  us  a  glimpse  into  a  Galihi-an 
home,  where  tlie  commonest  articles  of  furniture 
would  be  the  lamp,  the  lampstand,  the  scah 
measure,  and  the  couch.  And  wlio  could  fail  to 
apprehend  tlie  force  of  the  metaphor  ?  '  When  the 
word  has  been  proclaimed,  its  purpose  is  defeated 
if  it  be  concealed  by  the  hearers ;  when  tlie  lamp 
comes  in,  who  would  put  it  under  the  modius  or 
the  couch  of  the  triclinium^.'  (Swete  on  Mk  4='). 

Literature— Art.  'Weights  and  Measures'  in  Hastings'  DB 
iv.  911",  913i>,  and  tlie  Emyc.  Bibl.  iv.  col.  6294  f. 

Alex.  A.  Duncan. 
BUSINESS — 1.  The  first  recorded  words  of 
Jesus  stand  in  the  AV,  '  Wist  ye  not  that  I  must 
be  about  my  Father's  business?'  (Lk  2^«).  This  is 
the  only  passage  in  the  Gospels  where  the  word 
'  business  occurs,  and  it  is  not  without  some  sort 
of  regret  that  we  are  obliged  to  acknowledge  the 
greater  accuracy  of  the  RV,  '  Wist  ye  not  that  I 
must  be  in  my  Father's  house?'  The  familiar 
rendering,  however,  finds  a  place  in  the  margin  ; 
and  indeed  in  tliis  case,  as  in  so  many  others, 
the  AV  well  represents  the  inner  meaning  of  tlie 
original  words.  Translated  quite  literally,  the 
phrase  (ii>  nh  tov  irarpdi  fiov)  means  'in  the  things 
of  my  Father ' :  it  denotes  a  person's  property  or 
estate,  and  is  equivalent  to  our  colloquialism  '  at 
my  father's,'— the  whole  stress  falling  on  the  idea  of 
OMnerslup,— and  in  this  way  it  is  fairly  frequently 
used  in  Greek  authors.  'The  closest  parallel  in 
Biblical  Greek  occurs  in  the  Septuagint  transla- 
t;'-"'  "f  Est  7'-',  where  'in  the  house  of  Haman'of 
the  KV  IS  rejiresented  by  the  phrase  fV  rofs  'A/xdi', 
and  it  IS  clear  that  the  gallows,  fifty  cubits  high, 
must  liave  stood  in  tlie  picciihts  ,,(  ili,.  liou.se,  or 
(m  the  estate,  of  Hanian.  (l<'.,i  ..ih.i  ii,,,kinces,  see 
Lxcursus  I.  in  Farrar's  St.  L„l.r  in  1 1,..  ( 'ambridge 
Bible  for  Schools,  wlicr,.  .-,,  ,siii„i,i:iiy  i.  given  of 
the  essential  points  from  an  iiuportaiit  monograph 


on  the  passage  by  Dr.  Field  of  Norwich  :  this 
monograph  has  been  reprinted  in  Notes  on  the 
Translation  of  the  NT,  by  the  late  Frederick  Field, 
Cambridge,  1899). 

The  Latin  Versions  render  the  Greek  phrase  as 
literally  as  the  language  allows,  and  throw  no 
light  on  tlie  interpretation.  The  Sinaitic  Syriac 
has  the  suggestive  paraphrase,  '  Wist  ye  not  that 
I  must  be  with  my  Father?'  The  idea  of  a  sym- 
pathetic relation  with  God  is  indeed  of  the  essence 
of  the  passage ;  perhaps  we  can  best  render  it  by 
borrowing  from  the  symbolical  language  of  the 
parables,  '  Wist  ye  not  that  I  must  work  in  my 
Father's  vineyard  ? ' 

A  passage  of  Clement  of  Alexandria  {Strom.  IV. 
xxiii.  148)  affords  an  interesting  parallel  to  the 
translation  of  the  Sinaitic  Syriac  just  quoted  : 
'  For  the  dispensation  of  creation  indeed  is  good, 
and  all  things  are  well  arranged,  nothing  happens 
without  a  reason  ;  in  the  thintjs  that  arc  Thine 
must  I  be  {iv  roh  aois  dvo.1  fie  dii),  O  Almighty,  and 
if  I  am  there  I  am  with  Thee.'  In  another  pas.sage 
{Strom.  VI.  vi.  45)  the  phrase  is  used  with  an  even 
wider  application  ;  of  the  souls  in  Hades,  Clement 
says  that  they  are  in  the  things  {i.e.  within  the 
domain)  of  God.  With  this  compare  the  teaching 
of  the  '  Elders '  referred  to  by  Irenseus  (V.  xxxvi.  1): 
'  For  this  cause  they  say  that  the  Lord  said  that 
in  the  things  of  My  Father  are  many  mansions. 
For  all  things  are  God's,  who  gives  to  all  men  the 
habitation  that  befits  them.'  Thus  what  in  Jn  14^ 
is  called  '  the  house  of  my  Father,'  is  by  the  sub- 
stitution of  the  phra.se  ra  toO  warpSi  /iov  extended 
to  mean  the  whole  Universe,  including,  as  the 
context  shows,  heaven,  paradise,  and  the  '  city ' 
of  the  re-created  earth.  In  Protrepticus,  ix.  82, 
Clement  seems  to  have  the  incident  of  Lk  2"'  in 
his  mind  as  implying  the  complete  consecration  of 
life  :  '  But  I  suppose  that  when  a  man  is  enrolled 
and  lives  as  a  citizen  and  receives  the  Father,  then 
he  will  be  in  the  things  of  the  Father.' 

Godet  (in  his  Commentary  on  St.  Luke,  adloe.) 
points  out  that  the  phrase  '  I  must  be '  (Stl  ehal  ^e) 
conveys  the  idea  of  an  absolute  and  morally  irre- 
sistible consecration  to  the  service  of  God  on  earth. 
To  the  awakening  consciousness  of  the  child  Jesus 
the  Temple  at  Jerusalem  was  the  symbol  of  the 
Father's  dominion  over  all  things ;  He  said  in 
effect  to  His  parents,  'Ye  ought  to  have  sought 
me  in  the  place  where  men  are  occupied  with  the 
things  of  God.' 

These  first  recorded  words  of  Jesus  then  set  a 
standard  by  which  must  be  tested  every  manner 
of  life.  How  far  is  it  possible  for  a  life  spent  in 
business,  with  which  a  linguistic  accident  connects 
these  words  for  English  readers  of  the  Bible,  to  be 
lived  in  the  things  of  the  Father,  according  to  the 
teaching  of  His  Son  ?  As  an  aid  towards  reaching 
an  answer  to  this  vital  question,  let  us  see  what 
we  can  learn,  from  our  Lord's  acts  and  words,  of 
the  attitude  He  adopted  towards  the  business  life 
of  the  time  of  His  Incarnation. 

2.  At  the  next  recorded  visit  of  Jesus  to  the 
Temple,  we  find  Him  in  conflict  with  men  who 
conducted  business  improperly  :  those  who  bore 
rule  there  did  not  understand  that  they  were  iv  roii 
Tov  varpbi.  It  is  well  known  that  St.  John  {•i}'^"-) 
narrates  a  'Cleansing  of  the  Temple'  as  taking 
place  quite  early  in  the  Lord's  public  ministiy, 
while  the  Synoptists  (Mt  21'='-,  Mk  ll'^"-,  Lk 
19^''')  describe  a  similar  event  as  occurring  in 
Holy  Week.  It  is  at  least  possible  tliat  the  holy 
zeal  of  Jesus  was  twice  displayed  in  this  manner  ; 
but  if  a  choice  had  to  be  made,  there  would  be 
strong  reasons  for  preferring  the  chronological 
arrangement  of  St.  John.  Without  entering  into 
this  question,  however,  we  can  simply  study  the 
attitude  of  Jesus   towards  those  who  conducted 


244 


BUSINESS 


tlie  Temple  market.  The  traffic  was  of  two  sorts, 
the  sale  of  sacrificial  animals,  and  the  exchange 
of  money :  in  both  cases  it  may  well  have  been 
legitimate  in  itself,  and  even  necessary :  the  sin 
was  connected  with  its  being  carried  on  within 
tlie  sacred  precincts.  It  seems  obvious  that  the 
Sadducean  rulers  of  the  Temple,  whose  cupidity 
was  notorious,  must  have  made  money  out  of  the 
business  carried  on  there ;  no  doubt  the  sites  for 
stalls  within  the  Temple  precincts  would  command 
a  good  rent ;  and,  further,  if  the  animals  sold  there 
were  certified  officially  as  being  unblemished  and 
fit  for  sacrifice,  while  those  bought  outside  were 
liable  to  a  scrutiny  on  being  brought  into  the 
Temple,  it  is  easy  to  see  how  the  privileged  trades- 
men may  have  gained  an  almost  complete  mono- 
jioly,  for  which  they  would  willingly  pay  a  high 
price.  If  the  conjecture  (see  Edersheim,  Life  and 
Times",  1887,  p.  367  ff.)  that  this  Temple  market 
was  identical  with  the  unpopular  '  Bazaars  of  the 
Sons  of  Annas'  is  right,  then  the  notorious  Annas 
and  his  son-in-law  Caiaphas  had  probably  a  direct 
interest  in  the  trade  carried  on.  It  seems  prob- 
able that  the  'changers  of  money'  (/cep/iaTicrraf, 
Jn  2» ;  KoWvpLcral,  Jn  2'=,  Mt  2V\  Mk  11'=)  were 
tlie  official  Slmlhanim  (Lightfoot,  Hone  Hcb.  on 
Mt  21"=;  Edersheim,  The  Temple,  p.  70  tt'.)  who 
sat  to  collect  the  lialf-shekel  for  a  fortnight  before 
the  Passover  :  they  were  allowed  to  make  a  charge 
on  each  half-shekel  wliether  change  was  given  or 
not,  ,and  Edersheim  places  their  probable  annual 
gain  from  this  source  at  £9000.  Very  likely  the 
ordinary  business  of  exchange  of  money  was 
carried  on,  as  obviously  no  coins  bearing  images 
or  idolatrous  symbols  could  be  offered  in  the 
Temple.  Moreover,  the  mention  by  Josephus 
(BJ  VI.  v.  2)  of  treasure-chambers  in  the  Temple 
belonging  to  private  individuals  suggests  that 
ordinary  banking  business,  including  the  receipt 
of  money  on  deposit,  may  have  been  made  a  source 
of  profit,  which  would  be  enhanced  by  the  security 
afforded  by  the  sanctity  of  the  place.  These  con- 
siderations have  been  put  forward  to  show  that  it 
is  likely  that  the  ruling  priestly  faction  turned  to 
financial  account  the  consecrated  character  of  the 
buildings  committed  to  their  charge.  Probably  it 
was  this  making  money  out  of  holy  things,  rather 
than  the  ceremonial  violation  of  the  sanctity  of 
the  Temple,  that  caused  the  severity  of  our  Lord's 
condemnation  of  tlie  whole  system  which  made 
His  Father's  house  into  '  a  house  of  merchandise,' 
according  to  St.  John's  account,  or  in  the  stronger 
words  of  the  Synoptists,  into  'a  den  of  robbers.' 
It  is  clear  that  Jesus  would  not  suffer  business  to 
be  carried  on  in  a  manner  that  interfered  with 
the  honour  due  to  God  :  doubtless  He  would  have 
applied  this  principle  to  the  Day,  no  less  than  to 
the  House,  of  His  Father.  The  same  lesson  is 
taught  in  the  parable  of  the  Royal  Marriage 
Feast  (Mt  23><'- ;  cf.  Lk  W^^-). 

3.  But  the  Son  of  Man,  to  whom  nothing  human 
was  void  of  interest,  in  no  way  stood  aloof  from 
business.  Himself  a  carpenter  by  trade  (Mk  6'), 
He  did  not  hesitate  to  tell  the  '  fishermen '  Apostles 
that  there  was  a  likeness  between  their  former 
worldly  and  their  future  spiritual  vocation  (Mt  4'", 
Mk  1") ;  the  would-be  disciple,  who  wished  first  to 
bid  farewell  to  those  at  his  house,  was  told  that  he 
might  have  learned  behind  the  plough  the  need  of 
concentrating  his  whole  interest  and  attention  on 
the  task  he  had  in  hand  (Lk  9*-).  Both  before  and 
after  the  resurrection  (Lk  5"-,  Jn  21i"-)  Jesus 
granted  .special  revelations  of  Himself  to  the 
disciples  while  engaged  in  their  usual  occupations. 
In  the  command  to  render  to  Ca;sar  the  things 
that  are  Ciesar's  (Mt  22'-',  and  parallels),  we  are 
struck  by  the  business-like  recognition  of  actually 
existing  circumstances.      Several  of  the   parable's 


prove  how  fully  Jesus  understood  and  entered  into 
the  business  spirit,  and  show  that,  when  conse- 
crated by  devotion  to  God,  it  is  necessary  to  those 
who  seek  the  kingdom  of  heaven.  The  merchant- 
man who  sold  all  that  he  had  in  order  to  buy  one 
pearl  of  great  price,  gave  proof  of  that  confidence 
in  his  own  judgment,  joined  with  willingness  to 
stake  all  upon  it,  which  is  indispensable  to  success 
in  great  mercantile  ventures,  and  is  said  to  be  even 
now  characteristic  of  the  Jewish  nation  (Mt  13**'-, 
cf.  13"  'the  hidden  treasure').  In  the  parable  of 
the  Labourers  in  the  Vineyard  the  fulfilment  of 
a  contract  is  sharply  opposed  to  the  voluntary  gift 
of  money  to  those  who  had  presumably  been  will- 
ing but  unable  to  e.arn  it  (Mt  20"'-).  A  proper 
return  is  rightly  expected  from  the  ownership  of 
land  (Mk  12'"^-,  and  parallels)  and  of  money  (Mt 
25^",  Lk  19-^).  It  is  worthy  of  notice  that  the  case 
just  referred  to  of  the  'unprofitable  servant' 
follows  in  St.  Matthew's  Gospel  directly  after  that 
parable  which  shows  how  unbusiness-like  neglect 
to  buy  oil  on  the  part  of  tlie  foolish  virgins  led  to 
their  exclusion  from  the  marriage-feast.  The  man 
who  failed  to  make  correct  calculations  as  to  the 
cost  of  building  a  tower  is  regarded  as  a  fit  object 
for  mockery  (Lk  14^f-).  On  the  other  hand,  the 
unjust  steward,  who  took  advantage  of  his  position 
of  authority  to  make  friends  of  his  master's 
debtors,  showed  a  business-like  shrewdness  which 
would  have  been  of  value  if  employed  honestly  in 
a  good  cause  (Lk  W^-). 

i.  A  terrible  warning  of  the  danger  of  misusing 
business  capacity  is  afforded,  not  in  the  imaginary 
story  of  a  parable,  but  in  the  actual  life  of  Judas 
Iscariot.  St.  Matthew  (26'«-)  and  St.  Mark  (W') 
connect  the  determination  of  Judas  to  betray 
Christ  with  the  anointing  of  His  feet  at  the  feast 
in  the  house  at  Bethany.  St.  John,  in  narrat- 
ing the  .same  incident  (12^"^),  tells  us  that  it  was 
Judas  who  gave  expression  to  the  false  idea  that 
the  giving  of  money  to  the  poor  was  of  greater 
value  than  personal  devotion  :  '  Now  this  he  said, 
iKif  Ipci:iu,c  111' r:uv,l  fi.rtlie  poor ;  but  because  he 
m:i<  ;i,  lliicf,  ,ni.l  li:n  iii;^  I  lie  bag  used  to  take  away 
(t'jurri,  1.  ir  W.^ir.jii  m  Speaker's  Commentary, 
ml  hir.]  wluit  i\;is  put  therein.'  Judas,  no  doubt 
on  account  of  natural  aptitude,  had  been  made 
treasurer  to  Jesus  and  His  disciples  ;  he  was  vexed 
that  so  large  a  sum  of  money  as  three  hundred 
pence  had  been  wasted  in  the  pouring  out  of  the 
ointment  instead  of  passing  through  his  hands  for 
the  supposed  benefit  of  the  poor.  Comparing 
together  these  ditt'erent  passages,  it  seems  clear 
that  St.  John  traced  the  fall  of  Judas,  culminating 
in  the  betrayal,  to  the  misuse  through  covetous- 
ness  of  his  business  faculties. 

5.  It  can  be,  and  often  is,  argued  that  the 
morality  taught  by  Christ  cannot  be  strictly  and 
literally  applied  in  the  conduct  of  business. 
Probably  the  impossibility  is  no  greater  in  the 
life  of  the  business  man  than  it  is  in  the  life  of 
any  one  who  tries  to  live  as  a  consistent  Christian. 
The  main  difference  seems  to  be  that  in  business 
practical  morality  is  daily,  and  often  many  times 
a  day,  put  to  a  test  the  extent  of  which  can  be 
estimated  in  money,  and  failure  to  conform  to  a 
high  standard  is  easily  detected.  The  business 
man  is  obliged  to  have  a  definite  standard  of 
practical  morality,  high  or  low  according  to  his 
own  character  and  the  exigencies  of  his  trade,  and 
according  to  that  standard  he  must  act.  Self- 
deception  in  his  case  is  practically  limited  to  one 
particular  form, — which,  however,  is  extremely 
])revalent,— that  of  attempting  to  separate  personal 
from  business  morality.  The  ordinary  non-busi- 
ness man,  on  the  contrary,  generally  has  a 
curiously  vague  ;ind  more  or  less  ideal  standard, 
and  it  is  a  very  dillicult  thing  even  for  a  man  of 


BUSINESS 


CAESAR 


245 


honest  thought  to  settle  liow  nearly  he  lives  up  to 
it.  Business  morality  in  a  measure  analyses  itself, 
while  the  morality  of  ordinary  life  almost  defies 
analysis :  a  comparison  between  the  two  is  thus 
extremely  dangerous,  as  they  are  practically  in- 
commensurable quantities. 

Jesus  Christ  evidently  believed  that  the  moral 
and  religious  truths  which  He  taught  were  capable 
of  being  applied  in  business.  We  have  seen  above 
that  He  severely  condemned  the  Sadducean  hier- 
archy, who  may  be  taken  to  represent  the  capi- 
talist class  of  those  days  at  Jerusalem,  because 
their  business  was  condticted  on  wrong  principles  : 
they  maintained  merely  ceremonial  purity,  and 
would  not  put  the  '  price  of  blood '  in  the  treasury 
(Mt  27"),  but  they  did  not  shrink  from  making 
gain  of  holy  things.  This  shows  the  uncompro- 
mising attitude  of  Christ  towards  what  was  morally 
bad.  Bnt  there  wa.s  a  gi-eat  difference  in  His 
manner  of  dealing  with  another  typical  class  of 
business  men,  the  Publicans.  He  did  not  follow 
popular  opinion  in  regarding  their  occupation  as 
absolutely  unjustifiable  ;  He  looked  on  tneir  call- 
ing as  a  legitimate  one,  while  demanding  honesty 
in  carrying  it  out.  Tlie  Baptist  had  taken  the 
same  hne,  'Exact  no  more  than  that  which  is 
appointed  you  '  (Lk  3'^).  Zacchaeus,  for  his  charity 
and  earnest  desire  to  avoid  extortion,  is  declared 
to  be  truly  a  son  of  Abraliam  (Lk  19'). 

It  is  worthy  of  note  that  St.  Luke  places  the 


parable  of  the  Pounds  in  close  connexion  with  the 
Zacch;eus  incident,  as  if  to  teach  us  that  lessons  of 
eternal  value  can  be  learned  in  business.  The 
slaves  are  rewarded  with  ten  or  five  cities,  accord- 
ing to  the  capacity  which  each  had  shown  in 
trading  with  his  pound. 

This  brings  us  to  the  centre  of  the  whole  matter  : 
the  life  of  business  is  a  legitimate  one  for  followers 
of  Christ  so  far  as  it  can  be  lived  '  in  the  things  of 
the  Father ' ;  then  it  is  a  means  of  imparting 
training  and  of  teaching  lessons  which  can  be  used 
now  and  hereafter  in  the  service  of  God.  'God 
has  set  you,'  writes  the  Rev.  Wilfrid  Richmond 
{Christian  Economics,  1888,  p.  159),  'in  the  world 
with  other  men  to  learn,  by  mutual  interchange  of 
the  means  of  life,  the  laws  of  love.  Your  wealth, 
whatever  it  may  be,  little  or  great,— the  wealth 
you  make,  the  wealth  you  spend, — is  treasure, 
corruptible  or  incorruptible,  treasure  on  earth  or 
treasure  in  heaven,  according  as  it  is  or  is  not,  in 
the  making  and  in  the  spending,  the  instrument 
of  love.' 


Character  of  Jesus  Christ  i 
Diaconate  of  Jesus,  19;  S.  Gregory,  Among  the  Roses,' 191; 
H.  Bushnell,  Sermons  cm  Living  Subjects,  243 ;  Expos,  2nd 
ser.  viii.  [18841  p.  17.  P.  M.   BARNARD. 

BUYING.— See  Trade  and  Commerce. 


CSSAR  (Korcrop).  —  In  the  Go.spel  record  this 
name  occurs  18  times,  in  16  of  which  it  answers  to 
'reigning  emperor,'  who  in  each  case  was  Tiberius 
Caesar  ;  in  the  remaining  two  the  more  individual 
name  is  found,— in  the  one  case  Augustus  (Lk  2'), 
and  in  the  other  Tiberius  (3'). 

The  name  '  Csesar '  was  assumed  by  Augustus  in 
44  B.C.,  immediately  after  the  tragic  death  of  his 
grand-uncle,  Julius  Ccesar,  being  considered  by 
him  part  of  the  inheritance  left  to  him.  We  have 
Cicero's  authority  (ad  Aft.  xiv.  5,  10,  11,  12)  for 
saying  that  the  friends  of  Octavius  began  to 
address  him  as  '  Csesar '  within  a  week  or  two  of 
the  Dictator's  assassination.  Augustus  himself 
soon  gave  evidence  that  he  meant  to  gather  up  and 
concentrate  on  himself  all  the  fame  that  was 
associated  with  'Casar.'  Not  many  years  passed 
till  he  came  to  exercise  a  world-wide  sway,  such 
as  the  great  Julius  had  never  known.  He  handed 
on  the  title  to  his  successors  very  much  as  we  find 
it  used  by  the  writers  of  the  NT,  in  the  sense  of 
the  great  ruler  or  Kaiser.  His  own  name  (Gr. 
Sc^ao-rds,  Lat.  Augustus)  was  quite  familiar  to 
them  as  applied  to  the  reigning  emperor  (Ac  25=i- 
=^  Nero).  Tlie  fame  of  the  first  Cajsar  had  come  to 
be  overshadowed  by  the  remarkable  career  of  the 
founder  of  the  Empire.  The  way  was  thus  pre- 
pared for  the  still  later  development,  when  the 
title  of  '  Csesar'  was  given  to  the  junior  partner  of 
the  two  joint-emperors,  and  '  Augustus '  remained 
tlie  distinguishing  name  of  the  supreme  ruler.  In 
the  Gospel  record  there  is  clear  confirmation  of  the 
first  part  of  this  historical  development,  and  there 
i.s  at  the  same  time  no  contradiction  of  the  second. 
In  the  majority  of  the  cases  of  the  use  of  the 
title  'Ciesar'  in  the  Gospel  writings,  tlie  question 
of  paying  the  tribute  has  come  up.  This  reveals 
the  great  change  that  had  taken  place  from  the 
tune  of  the  '  census '  under  Augustus,  when  '  every- 


one went  to  enrol  himself  in  his  own  city '  (Lk  2'), 
to  that  of  the  trial  before  Pilate,  when  the  chief 
charge  against  Jesus  was  said  to  be  '  the  forbidding 
to  give  tribute  to  Csesar '  (23-).  In  those  thirty- 
three  years  of  interval  the  relation  between  the 
Roman  power,  as  represented  by  '  Cajsar,'  and  the 
Jewish  people,  had  undergone  a  radical  change. 
Judaea  had  become  a  Roman  province,  and  was 
under  obligation  to  '  pay  tribute  as  well  as  submit 
to  an  enrolment  of  its  heads  of  households.  In 
perfect  accord  with  this  historical  fact,  St.  Luke 
wrote  (3'):  'Pontius  Pilate  being  governor  of 
Judwa,'  with  the  tetrarchs  for  Galilee,  Ituroea,  and 
Abilene,  desiring  to  mark  the  period  in  the  reign 
of  Tiberius  Csesar  when  '  the  word  of  God  came 
to  John  in  the  wilderness.'  The  change  came 
with  the  death  of  Herod  the  Great  in  4  B.C. 
While  Varus,  the  governor  of  Syria,  was  engaged 
in  quelling  serious  outbreaks  of  rebellion  in  Jer- 
usalem, the  sons  of  Herod  were  in  Rome  waiting 
the  decision  of  Augustus  as  to  their  conflicting 
claims.  At  length  all  parties  were  heard  by  the 
emperor  in  an  assembly  tliat  met  in  the  celebrated 
temple  of  Apollo,  behind  his  own  house  on  'the 
Palatine.  The  imperial  verdict,  announced  after 
a  few  days,  upheld  substantially  the  will  of  Herod. 
To  Archelaus  were  assigned  Juda;a,  Samaria,  and 
Idumsea— not  as  king,  but  as  ethnarch  ;  to  Antipas, 
Galilee  and  Pera?a  as  tetrarch  ;  Batansea,  Trach- 
onitis,  Auranitis,  Gaulanitis,  and  Paneas  to  Philip, 
also  as  tetrarch  (Jos.  Ant.  xvil.  viii.  1,  xi.  4). 
The  kingdom  of  Herod  Avas  thus  divided  into  three 
separate  territories  after  his  death.  As  it  was  in 
Jerusalem  tkat  the  question  as  to  the  tribute 
money  was  raised,  our  subject  in  this  article  has 
to  do  only  with  Archelaus.  After  some  nine  years 
of  rule  over  Judjea,  Archelaus  was  summoned  to 
Rome  to  answer  charges  brought  against  him  by 
a    deputation   of   leading   men  from   Judwa  and 


246 


CESAR 


C^SAREA  PHILIPPI 


Samaria.  He  was  deposed  and  banished  by  Aug- 
ustus to  Vienne  in  Gaul  in  a.d.  6.  His  ten-itory 
was  put  under  direct  Roman  rule,  becoming  a  part 
of  the  province  of  Syria,  with  a  Roman  of  eques- 
trian rank  for  its  governor.  An  end  was  thus  put 
to  the  uniform  consideration  for  Jewish  traditions 
and  national  prejudices  shown  by  Herod  and  his 
sons.  The  first  notable  instance  of  this  in  history 
is  met  with  in  the  rebellion  of  A.D.  6,  on  the 
occasion  of  the  great  census,  while  Quirinius  was 
governor  of  Syria,  which  is  referred  to  in  Ac 
5".  The  tumult,  with  its  accompanjring  bloodshed, 
must  have  been  of  no  slight  moment,  when  a 
quarter  of  a  century  thereafter  Gamaliel  could 
eflectually  use  it  in  restraining  the  Council  from 
slaying  the  Apostles.  Between  A.D.  6  and  A.D.  30, 
whichever  length  of  cycle  for  the  imperial  census 
be  taken,  there  must  have  been  at  least  another 
'  enrolment '  for  purposes  of  taxation.  We  do  not 
read  of  a  serious  revolt  having  taken  place  then  as 
in  6  A.D.  The  Roman  authorities,  no  doubt,  were 
better  prepared  for  what  might  happen,  and  the 
Jewish  people  also  had  learned  the  fruitlessness  of 
rebellion.  As  the  time  of  Christ's  public  ministry 
approached,  their  spirit  nevertheless  became  more 
and  more  embittered.  It  was  inevitable  that  at 
some  point  or  other  in  that  ministry  the  question 
should  be  pressed  upon  Him,  '  Is  it  lawful  to  give 
tribute  to  Caesar  or  not?'  (Mt  22"  II).  It  was 
one  of  the  burning  questions  of  His  time.  A  dis- 
tinction must  here  be  drawn  between  the  '  customs ' 
or  duties  upon  goods  and  the  land  tax  with  poll  tax. 
The  latter  only  passed  into  the  '  Fiscus '  or  im- 
perial treasury.  With  jjerfect  accuracy,  therefore, 
it  could  be  described  as  'tribute  to  Ca'sar.'  This 
tax  was  exacted  annually,  and  as  the  Jews  were 
not  yet  subject  to  military  conscription,  it  formed 
the  chief  sign  of  their  subjection  to  the  Roman 
yoke.  Officers  of  state  collected  it,  the  procurator 
for  the  tax  in  the  case  of  Judsea  being  also  the 
governor,  Pilate.  It  was  difl'erent  with  the  '  cus- 
toms,' which  were  farmed  out  to  the  liighest 
bidder,  thus  creating  that  intense  antipathy  which 
is  revealed  in  the  phrase  'publicans  and  sinners.' 

The  tribute  payment  after  all  was  based  on  the 
fact  of  the  kingship  of  Ctesar.  The  combination 
of  '  Cajsar '  with  '  long '  sounds  entirely  unhistori- 
cal  to  one  familiar  with  the  rise  and  growth  of  the 
Roman  Empire.  '  King '  was  a  term  which  Augustus 
was  most  careful  to  avoid  from  the  time  tliat  it 
may  be  said  to  have  oo.^t  the  first  '  Ca'sar'  his  life. 
Among  Eastern  peoples,  lioweNcr,  it  was  the  most 
u.sual  title  for  their  ruler.  Buring  the  long  reign 
of  Herod  no  name  was  more  familiar  to  the  Jews 
than  'king.'  It  was  most  natural  for  them  to 
transfer  it  to  '  C»sar.'  Any  one  claiming  to  be  a 
'king'  within  the  wide  dominion  of  Ca>sar  was 
seeking  to  establish  a  rival  authority.  This  was 
the  charge  which  they  found  it  so  easy  to  frame 
against  Jesus  when  He  and  they  were  in  the 
presence  of  Pilate :  '  forbidding  to  give  tribute 
to  Ccesar,  and  saying  that  he  himself  is  Christ,  a 
king'  (Lk  23").  No  more  powerful  appeal  could 
they  have  made  to  Pilate's  fears,  as  they  thought, 
than  when  they  cried  out,  '  If  thou  let  this  man 
go,  thou  art  not  Caesar's  fi-iend  :  whosoever  maketh 
himself  a  king,  speaketh  against  Caisar'  (Jn  19'-). 
The  title  on  the  cross,  'Jesus  of  Nazareth,  the 
king  of  the  Jews'  (Jn  19''),  as  Pilate  actually  wrote 
it,  served  him  better  than  their  proposed  modifica- 
tion, '  He  said,  I  am  king  of  the  Jews'  (v.'>).  Should 
he  ever  be  called  in  auestion  by  Caesar  for  giving 
Jesus  up  to  death,  that  title,  written  out  by  his 
own  hand,  would  form  an  ample  justification.  The 
greater  probability  lies  in  the  supposition  that 
Pilate  so  named  Hiui  to  spite  the  Jews,  in  accord- 
ance with  those  other  words,  '  Shall  I  crucify  your 
king  ? '  (v.").     The  whole  attitude  of  Jesus  towards 


Ca>sar,  not  only  in  the  question  of  the  tribute,  but 
throughout  the  trial  before  Pilate,  must  have  en- 
tirely disarmed  the  Roman  governor  of  any  fear 
that  He  was.  or  ever  had  been,  a  rival  of  Caesar's. 
J.  GonooN  Grav. 

C^ESAREA  PHILIPPI.— Tlie  town  called  Caesarea 
Philippi  in  the  Synoptic  Gospels  (Mt  16",  Mk  8", 
cf.  Jos.  Ant.  XX.  ix.  4,  BJ  III.  ix.  7,  vii.  ii.  1)  bore 
at  one  time,  certainly  as  early  as  B.C.  198  (Polybius, 
HUt.  xvi.  18,  xxviii.  1),  the  name  Panias  (iroKids 
or,  naKeds),  which  is  still  preserved  in  the  modern 
Banias.  Situated  to  the  north  of  the  Sea  of  Gali- 
lee on  a  plateau  at  the  southern  foothills  of  Mount 
Hermon,  it  lay  in  the  territory  that  Philip  re- 
ceived from  his  father,  Herod  the  Great.  The 
place,  as  well  as  the  surrounding  country,  received 
its  original  name  from  a  cave  or  grotto  in  a  hUl 
near  by,  which  was  called  rd  Ildvfioc,  because 
sacred  to  Pan  and  the  Nymphs.  In  the  face  of 
the  cliff"  there  are  still  several  niches  with  inscrip- 
tions in  which  Pan  is  mentioned.  From  the  cave 
(Mugharet  Eas  en-Nebd),  now  partly  filled  with 
fallen  stone,  issues  a  strong  stream  of  water  which 
has  long  been  reckoned  one  of  the  chief  sources  of 
the  Jordan  (Jos.  Ant.  XV.  x.  3).  On  the  hill  above, 
Herod  built  a  white  marble  temple  in  honour  of 
Augustus  (Jos.  Ant.  XV.  x.  3,  BJ  I.  xxi.  3),  and 
here  the  Crusaders  built  a  castle,  the  ruins  of 
which  still  stand  some  fifteen  hundred  feet  above 
the  town,  and  about  a  mile  and  a  quarter  to  the 
east  (Kuldt  Subeibch).  Philip  enlarged  and  beauti- 
fied Panias,  and  called  it  Ct-esarea  (Kai<rdp«o)  in 
honour  of  Augustus.  The  statement  of  Euselaius 
{Chron.  ed.  Schoene,  pp.  146-147)  that  Philip  built 
Panias,  and  called  it  Caesarea,  in  the  reign  of 
Tiberius,  is  rendered  improbable  by  coins  which 
show  that  Caesarea  had  an  era  dating  from  B.C. 
3  or  2.  To  distinguish  it  from  Caesarea  on  the 
seacoast  (  Kaiadpcia  ^Tpdrajpos  or  Kattrdpeta  t^s 
UaSaLaTh-ns),  it  was  commonly  called  Ca;.sarea 
Philippi  (Kaicrd/jfia  ij  '^Mttwov).  Under  Agrippa  II. 
it  received  and  bore  for  a  short  time  tlie  name 
Neronias  (Nepwi-ids,  Jos.  Ant.  xx.  ix.  4).  The 
place  has  probably  no  part  in  OT  history,  since 
its  identification  with  Dan  (Smith,  HGHL  pp.  473, 
480)  is  not  certain  (Buhl,  GAP  p.  238). 

Into  this  region  Jesus  came  with  His  disciples 
during  one  of  His  tours  of  retirement  from  the 
common  scenes  of  His  Galilean  activity ;  but  He 
does  not  seem  to  have  entered  Ca>sarea  itself.  St. 
Matthew  (16'^,  cf.  15-')  tells  us  that  Jesus  came 
into  the  region  (eh  rd  nipr]) ;  St.  Mark  (8")  mentions 
more  specifically  and  vividly  the  villages  of  Caesarea 
(eh  Tds  Kuiias).  In  the  territory  of  which  Caesarea 
was  the  chief  city  tliere  were  Mualler  towns,  and 
it  was  through  these  tliat  .lesus  moved  with  His 
disciples  and  others  \\  ho  folluw  ed  Him.  St.  Luke 
alone  (g""-)  of  the  Synoptists  seems  to  have  lost 
the  touch  of  local  colour  fixed  so  indelibly  upon 
tlie  narratives  of  Mt.  and  Mk.— an  authenticating 
element  whose  force  even  those  who  question  the 
Synoptic  tradition  at  this  point  find  it  difficult  to 
escape  (cf.  Wrede,  Messiasgeheimtiis,  p.  239).  The 
narrative  in  Lk.  lends  itself,  however,  to  the  set- 
ting of  Mt.  and  Mk.,  both  by  the  way  in  which  it 
is  introduced  without  definite  localization  (xoi 
iyivero  ii/  rijj  eivai  airbv  wpo(Tevxt>iiei'ov),  and  by  the 
fact  that  in  Lk.'s  order  it  follows  tlie  feeding  of 
the  five  thousand  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Beth- 
saida.  According  to  Mk  8-^- '",  it  was  from  Beth- 
saida  that  Jesus  went  into  the  villages  of  Caesarea, 
and  in  Jn  6^^-  we  read  of  a  confession  of  Peter 
immediately  after  the  discour.se  of  Jesus  in 
Caijernaum,  occasioned  by  the  feeding  of  the 
five  thousand.  St.  Luke's  material  may  have 
come  to  him  in  the  form  of  a  gjroup  centring 
around  a  saying  of  Jesus,  but  without  definite 
localization.     By  inserting  it  after  the  feeding  of 


C^SAREA  PHILIPPI 


C^SAREA  PHILIPPI 


247 


the  Ave  thousand  he  has  preserved  the  historical 
order  without,  however,  giving  us  the  exact  local 
setting.  For  this  we  must  look  to  St.  Matthew 
and  St.  Mark. 

By  our  First  and  Second  Evangelists  the  same 
group  of  events  is  not  only  connected  with  a  place 
which  lends  peculiar  significance  to  them,  but  set 
in  a  larger  context  which  extends  to  the  feeding  of 
the  five  thousand.  Mt.  and  Mk.  alike  represent 
Jesus'  arrival  in  the  region  of  Caesarea  Philippi  as 
part  of  a  course  decided  upon  shortly  after  that 
event.  The  decision  which  led  to  the  retirement 
into  the  region  of  Tyre  and  Sidon  must  have 
been  confirmed  by  His  experience  on  returning  to 
Galilee.      For  Jesus   withdrew   again,   this    tmie 

Ejing  north  into  the  region  of  Coesarea  Philippi. 
ocated  at  Csesarea  and  standing  in  tlie  period  of 
retirement,  this  group  of  events  points  back  to  the 
beginning  of  the  period  for  the  explanation  of  its 
characteristic  features.  The  Gospels  do  not  enu- 
merate the  causes  which  led  to  such  a  change  in 
the  scene'of  Jesus'  activity,  but  their  narratives  do 
indicate  a  situation  which  will  in  a  measure  account 
for  it. 

But,  besides  change  of  scene,  this  group  of 
events  reveals,   as  do   the  earlier  events  of  the 

Seriod  of  retirement,  a  change  in  the  method  of 
esus'  work.  His  retirement  from  Galilee  is  from 
the  people  and  tlieir  religious  leaders  into  more 
intimate  companionship  witli  His  disciples,  from 
His  popular  instruction  of  the  multitudes  and 
beneficent  activity  in  their  midst  to  teach  His 
faithful  followers  in  more  secluded  intercourse  the 
significance  of  His  own  person  for  the  Kingdom 
He  had  been  proclaiming,  and  to  prepare  them 
for  His  Passion.  The  period  has  fittingly  been 
called,  from  its  chief  characteristic,  the  Training 
of  the  Twelve,  and  in  no  incident  does  this  char- 
acteristic more  clearly  appear  than  in  the  events  of 
Ctesarea  Philippi. 

The  immedrate  occasion  of  Jesus'  retirement 
from  Galilee  and  the  change  in  His  method  of 
work  are  indicated  in  Mt.  and  Mk.  by  their  account 
of  His  attitude  towards  the  traditions  of  the 
elders  (Mt  15'--»,  Mk  1^-"-^).  The  fundamental 
opposition  between  Jesus  and  the  legalism  of  the 
Pnarisees  which  had  appeared  in  His  attitude  to- 
wards the  Sabbath  customs,  and  in  the  Her 


the  Mount,  came  now  to  sharp  expressii 


Hi; 


attack  on  the  whole  system  of  external  formalism 
in  religion.  The  people,  moreover,  liad  shown 
themselves  unprepared  to  receive  and  unable  to 
appreciate  His  teaching,  even  after  the  work  of 
John  the  Baptist  and  His  own  labours  in  their 
behalf.  And  so  the  form  of  His  teaching  had 
changed  from  the  gnomic  to  the  parabolic,  causim; 
a  separation  between  the  mass  and  those  who  luul 
ears  to  hear.  How  utterly  the  people  had  failed 
to  comprehend  Him  is  revealed  by  their  attempt 
after  the  feeding  of  the  five  thousand  to  take  Him 
and  make  Him  king  (Jn  6'^).  After  His  discourse 
in  Capernaum  (Jn  6-™-),  St.  John  tells  us  that 
many  of  His  disciples  walked  no  more  with  Him 
(Jn  6»«).  Finally,  the  mission  of  the  Twelve  had 
widely  extended  His  work,  and  shortly  thereafter 
we  are  told  that  Herod  (Antipas)  heard  of  Jesus 
(Mk6",  Mt  14>,  Lk  9™-)-  Bitter  hostility  from 
the  religious  leaders,  failure  on  the  part  of  the 
people  to  understand  the  character  of  His  work, 
interested  attention  from  the  murderer  of  John 
the  Baptist, — in  the  midst  of  such  conditions  Jesus 
withdrew  from  Galilee,  and  from  His  popular 
preaching  activity,  to  devote  Himself  to  His 
disciples. 

Jesus'  first  retirement  is  into  the  region  of 
Tyre  and  Sidon,  part  of  the  Roman  province  of 
Syria.  Returning  to  Galilee,  He  feeds  the  four 
thousand,  refuses  the  request  of  the  Pharisees  and 


suggested  the  answer  to  His  question  in  asking  it. 
r  of  fact,  however,  the  answer  is  not  given  in  terms 
.    In  the  Synoptic  Gospels  the  title  '  Son  of  Man  '  is 


Sadducees  for  a  sign  from  heaven,  with  its  evident 
Messianic  implication,  warns  His  disciples  against 
the  leaven  of  tlie  Pharisees  and  Sadducees  (so  Mt 
16";  Mk  8'^  lias  'Pharisees  and  Herod'),  heals  a 
blind  man  near  Bethsaida  (Mk  S-"),  and  retires 
from  Galilee  for  the  second  time,  coming  with  His 
disciples  into  the  region  of  Cisesarea  Philipipi. 

The  key  to  the  situation  at  Cjesarea,  its  con- 
trolling iilea,  is  to  be  sought  neither  in  the  con- 
fession of  Peter  nor  in  the  promise  to  Peter,  but 
in  Jesus'  announcement  of  His  approaching  Pas- 
sion. To  this  Peter's  confession  leads  up  ;  around 
it  Jesus'  instruction  of  the  disciples  regarding 
Himself  and  the  conditions  of  discipleship  centres. 
The  theme,  moreover,  becomes  characteristic  of 
His  subsequent  teaching  (Mk  9i--"  10^'-  12'  14' 
etc.). 

St.  Luke  tells  us  that  Jesus  had  been  praying 
alone  (9"*,  cf.  3-'),  and  that  His  disciples  were  with 
Him.  St.  Mark  vividly  locates  the  question  that 
Jesus  put  to  His  disciples,  as  '  in  the  way '  (S-'). 
St.  Mark  and  St.  Luke  agree  in  the  form  of  the 
question,  '  Who  do  men  (Mk.  oi  S.vdponroi,  Lk.  ol 
iixXoi)  say  that  I  am?'  St.  Matthew,  however, 
gives  it  in  the  third  person,  and  introduces  the 
title  '  Son  of  Man  ' — '  Who  do  men  say  that  the 
Son  of  man  is  ? '  *  In  either  form  the  question  is 
a  striking  one,  by  reason  of  the  prominence  it 
gives  to  Jesus'  person.  Emphasis  until  now  had 
been  placed  by  Him  on  His  message  and  on  His 
works  of  mercy,  thougli  both  had  stood  in  intimate 
relation  to  His  person.  He  desires  to  know  now 
what  men  think  of  the  messenger. 

The  form  given  to  Jesus'  question  in  Mt.  has  been  regarded 
as  secondary,  on  the  ground  that  by  calling  Himself  the  Son  of 
Man,  Jesussi         •    ■  ••  -    —         -->      ■        .:- -  .^ 

of  this  title.    In  the  Synoptic  Gospels 

always  a  self-designation  of  Jesus.  Even  where  it  appears  in 
the  Fourth  Gospel  in  the  mouth  of  others,  this  is  in  evident 
dependence  on  its  use  by  Jesus  (Jn  12W).  St.  Stephen's  use  of 
it  also  looks  back  to  Jesus'  words  (Ac  756,  cf.  Lk  2269),  and  the 
usage  of  the  Apocalj-pse  is  probably  to  be  explained  by  the 
influence  of  Dn  713  (cf.  Rev  l"  14IJ).  There  can,  moreover,  be 
no  doubt  that  Jesus  so  designated  Himself  during  the  conversa- 
tion with  the  disciples  at  Cassarea  Phihppi  The  phrase  occurs 
in  Mk  8^1  and  Lk  9-,  but  it  is  neither  more  adequately  motived 
than  in  Mt.,  nor  is  it  explained  Tht  disLiples  must  have  been 
familiar  with  it  as  a  self  designation  of  Jesus  c\en  if  thci  did 
not  understand  its  full  signihcanLC  The  »t\  in  \\i  li  it  is 
introduced  both  in  Mt.  and  Mk-Lk  makes  it  1  I  I 
think  that  it  was  now  used  for  the  first  tinu  I    I 

Gospelsdo  indeed  give  earlier  instances  of  its        (11 

SUI)  9G  1023  111a  128.  32.  40  13  7  41    Lk  J  ^  I        "       '         I      I 

tions  this  order,  regarding  it  as  improl  al  I     11    t    1  Hi 

Himself  Son  of  Man  at  an  earlier  time  (I)  '  /  1  1  )  nd 
Holtzniann  holds  that  if  Jesus  did  so  it  w  is  in  a  I  tl  1  lit  sense 
(A'-i' T/lco?.  i.  pp.  257,  263)  The  S\noi  tio  IC]  1  ill  I  n  is  self 
consistent,  however,  in  presupposin„  its  ivil  r  us  and  this 
we  must  accept  even  while  admitting  that  tl  1  iin.cof  the 
tcTiu  cannot  be  fully  determined  apart  ficiii  its  usi  here  and 
siihscciufiitly,  where  it  isassociated  with  Jesus  sutl  iiii„   resui 


111  answer  to  Jesus'  question,  the  disciples  report 
the  opinions  current  among  the  people  concerning 
Him.  The  report  must  have  been  discouraging. 
Not  only  was  tliere  variety  of  opinion,  some  think- 
ing that  He  was  John  the  Baptist  (cf.  Mk  6"), 
others  Elijah,  and  still  others  Jeremiah  (Mt  16")  or 
one  of  the  prophets;  but  in  the  midst  of  this 
variety  there  was  general  agreement  that  Jesus, 
whoever  else  H&  might  be,  was  not  the  Messiah. 
A  forerunner  of  the  Messianic  Kingdom  He  might 
be,  but  not  the  INIessianic  King.  His  activity  in 
proclaiming  the  Kingdom,  whatever  Messianic 
expectations  it  may  have  aroused,  had  resulted 
only  in  the  popular  recognition  of  His  prophetic 
character,  and  in  His  association  with  the  Mes- 
sianic Kingdom  in  some  preparatory  sense.  Mani- 
festly Jesus  was  not  the  popular  Messiah.      His 

*  In  Mt  1013  ^1  before  My""'"  i"  «ie  TR  is  to  lie  omitted  with 
N  B  c  vg  cop  syrhr  (cf.  also  Mt  103=,  Lk  12»f..  Mk  S3S,  Lk  ^,  Mt 
51>,  Lk  022,  Mt  1021,  Mk  S31,  Lk  922). 


248 


CiESAEEA  PHILIPPI 


C^SAEEA  PHILIPPI 


work,  directed  as  it  was  towards  spiritual  ends,  did 
not  accord  with  the  popular  conception  of  tlie 
Messianic  Kingdom.  Moreover,  Jesus  had  not 
spoken  plainly  in  Galilee  of  His  Messiahship.  He 
had  not  assumed  a  popular  Messianic  title,  and 
when  individuals  had  recognized  in  Him  the 
Messiah,  He  had  commanded  silence.  His  work, 
however,  like  that  of  Jolin  the  Baptist,  had  ex- 
cited interest,  and  called  forth  opinions  which 
associated  Him  with  the  coming  Messianic  King- 
dom. The  report  of  the  disciples  so  accurately 
describes  the  situation  and  so  faithfully  represents 
the  tenor  of  popular  opinion,  that  it  cannot  be 
regarded  merely  as  the  background  sketched  by 
the  Evangelists  for  the  purpose  of  bringing  into 
sharp  relief  the  confession  of  Peter. 

In  the  Synoptic  narratives  the  question  of  Jesus 
about  the  opinion  of  the  people  leads  up  to  a 
similar  question  addressed  to  the  disciples  about 
their  own,  and  the  answer  in  the  one  case  stands 
in  sharp  contrast  to  the  report  given  in  the 
other,— a  contrast  which  is  vivid  and  real  because 
true  to  the  historical  situation.  To  the  question 
addressed  to  the  disciples,  '  But  who  say  ye  that  I 
am?'  Peter  answers,  '  Thou  art  the  Christ'  (so  Mk. ; 
Lk.  gives  simply  'the  Christ  of  God,'  and  Mt. 
'  Tliou  art  the  Christ,  the  Son  of  the  living  God '). 
Unlike  the  people,  the  disciples  had  recogTiized  in 
Jesus  the  Messiah,  and  to  this  conviction  Peter 
gave  brief  expression.  However  inadequate  may 
have  been  the  content  which  Peter  and  his  com- 
panions gave  to  this  formal  statement  of  their 
faith,  it  was  a  matter  of  great  importance  that 
they  were  able  to  affirm  clearly,  and  in  oj^position 
to  the  opinion  of  the  people,  their  belief  that  in 
Jesus  the  Messianic  King  had  come.  The  readi- 
ness and  decision  with  which  Peter  formulated  the 
faith  of  the  disciples  are  an  indication  that  their 
faith,  though  now  expressed  in  this  form  for  the 
first  time,  did  not  originate  here  (cf.  J.  Weiss, 
Das  dlteste  Evang.  p.  51).  Their  very  presence 
with  Jesus  at  this  time  gave  evidence  of  such  a 
conviction  (cf.  Jn  G^"-).  In  this  faith  they  had 
answered  His  call  to  discipleship ;  in  it  tliey  had 
associated  with  Him,  heard  His  teaching,  and 
seen  His  wonderful  works;  their  appointment  as 
Apostles  iniplied  it,  as  did  their  subsequent  mission 
to  Israel.  They  had  seen  opposition  arise  and  de- 
velop into  bitter  hostility;  but  when  Jesus  with- 
drew into  the  region  of  Tyre  and  Sidon,  and  again 
into  tlie  region  of  Cfesarea  Philippi,  they  still  com- 
panied  with  Him.  They  knew  the  poinilar  opinion, 
but  they  still  adhered  to  their  own  conviction. 

The  significance  of  Peter's  confession,  however, 
lies  not  simply  in  the  fact  that  it  gave  expression 
to  a  deep  and  long  -  cherished  conviction,  tlius 
evidencing  the  permanent,  unchanged  cliaructer  of 
his  faith  ;  it  had  reference  also  to  the  future.  It 
was  made  in  answer  to  a  question  of  Jesus  which 
had  as  its  occasion  His  intention  to  reveal  to  the 
disciples  the  necessity  of  His  suffering.  The  faith 
of  the  disciples  had  stood  all  the  tests  to  which  it 
had  been  subjected  in  the  past.  Jesus,  however, 
clearly  foresaw  a  still  greater  test  in  the  near 
future.  In  order  to  prepare  tliem  for  it,  there  was 
need  that  definite  expression  be  given  to  their 
faith.  The  revelation  which  was  to  be  made  to 
them  would  tlms  serve  the  purpose  of  clarifying 
the  content  of  their  faith.  In  Mk.  and  Lk.  the 
confession  of  Peter  is  accordingly  brought  into 
close  connexion  with  the  announcement  of  the 
Passion.  Mt.  alone  gives  the  words  of  Jesus  to 
Peter  (IB"'"),  not  only  confirming  what  we  may 
infer  from  Jesus'  reception  of  the  confession  (Mk.- 
Ijk.),  its  essential  correspondence  with  His  own 
consciousness,  but  going  further  and  giving  us 
positive  knowledge  of  Jesus'  estimate  and  appre- 
ciation of  Peter's  faith. 


Addressing  Peter  as  Simon  Bar-Jona,*  Jesus 
declares  him  to  be  blessed  in  the  possession  of  a 
faitli  which,  transcending  the  human  sphere  of 
flesh  and  blood,  has  its  origin  in  the  heavenly 
spliere  and  from  His  Father.  In  thus  describing 
the  revelation-character  of  Peter's  faith,  Jesus 
does  not  define  more  nearly  the  process  or  time  of 
origin,  the  psychological  moment,  but  treats  his 
faith  simply  as  a  definite  fact  of  the  past.  Con- 
tinuing witli  the  emphatic  '  But  I,'  Jesus  makes 
Peter's  confession  the  occasion  of  revealing  His  plan 
for  the  future,  and  the  part  that  Peter  is  to  fulfil  in 
it.  With  the  words  '  'Thou  art  Peter,'  Jesus  recalls 
the  name  He  had  given  to  His  disciple  and  apostle 
(cf.  Jn  y\  Mk  3",  Mt  10=,  Lk  6^*).  The  Greek 
Uirpos,  like  the  Aramaic  KephCi,  means  a  Fock,  and 
suggests  tlie  idea  of  firmness  or  strength.  In 
giving  such  a  name  to  Simon,  Jesus  had  looked 
beneath  the  surface  and  read  the  character  of 
Peter  in  terms  of  motive  and  underlying  disposi- 
tion. A  man  of  decision,  he  was  full  of  energy 
and  strength,  a  man  of  action  rather  than  of  con- 
templation, a  natural  leader  ;  and  if  at  times  im- 
pulsive, rebuking  his  Master  and  even  denying 
Him,  he  was  in  the  one  case  loyal  to  his  faith, 
however  unwisely  so,  and  in  tlie  other  was  follow- 
ing Jesus  to  be  near  Him  when  he  fell.  In  main- 
taining and  confessing  his  faith  in  Jesus,  Peter 
had  shown  himself  true  to  the  character  which 
Jesus  recognized  when  He  named  him  Peter. 
Upon  this  rock  Jesus  now  affirms  His  intention  of 
founding  His  Church :  not  upon  any  rock,  and 
therefore  not  simply  upon  a  strong  and  firm  foun- 
dation, but  upon  this  rock  indicated  by  the  name 
Peter.  In  the  Greek  the  word  for  Peter  (n^pos) 
and  the  word  for  rock  {iriTpa)  differ  in  form,  but  in 
Aramaic  the  same  form  was  probably  used.  The 
Pesli.  has  kipha  in  both  instances  (cf.  also  Mt  27™ ; 
in  Mt.  7=^'-  sica  is  used).  The  rock  intended  by 
Jesus  to  be  the  future  foundation  of  His  Church  is 
Peter,  realizing  the  character  indicated  in  his 
name.  The  function  thus  assigned  to  Peter  is 
indeed  not  apart  from  his  confession,  nor  is  the 
fact  that  he  evidently  spoke  in  a  representative 
capacity  to  be  overlooked.  The  address  of  Jesus, 
however,  is  distinctly  to  Peter,  and  it  is  his  name 
that  is  interpreted.  The  confession  which  precedes 
is  indeed  closely  related  to  the  words  of  Jesus,  but 
it  cannot  be  understood  as  the  rock -foundation 
intended  by  Jesus.  In  itself  it  furnishes  the  occa- 
sion rather  than  the  ground  of  Jesus'  promise.  It 
cannot  therefore  be  treated  abstractedly  as  some- 
thing separate  from  Peter,  but  must  be  regarded 
as  a  manifestation  and,  in  its  measure,  a  realiza- 
tion of  the  character  which  Jesus  .saw  in  Peter 
when  He  gave  him  his  name.  Tlie  content  of 
Peter's  faith,  moreover,  was  entirely  inadequate 
when  measured  by  Jesus'  conception  of  what  His 
Mes.siahship  involved.  Much  had  still  to  be  learned 
in  the  school  of  experience  (Mk  S^'f-  14*"-,  Lk  22»', 
Jn  21^^-,  1  Co  15''),  but  the  character  was  fixed  in 
principle.  Jesus  saw  its  strength,  and  chose  the 
man  for  the  work  He  had  for  him  to  do.  The 
opening  chapters  of  the  Acts  of  the  Apostles  "ive 
some  account  of  the  way  in  which  he  acconiplislied 
his  charge. 

The  figure  of  a  rock-foundation,  used  to  describe 
Peter's  future  function  in  the  Church,  suggests 
naturally  a  single  rock  underlying  a  whole  struc- 

♦  Bar-Jona,  or  'son  of  Jonas,"  probably  means  'son  of  John" 
(cf.  Jn  l-i-  211SI0.  In  Hebrew  the  words  njv  and  JJIJV  differ, 
but  the  Greek  rendering  of  |;nv  ia  sometimes  I 
of  n:v  (cf.  1  Ch  263,  i  Es  923,  2  K  2.-.-'').     Z.ili 

difference  between  Mt.  and  Jn.  tu  ;i  1    -i' 

transLator  of  Mt.  of  the  two  Hehri  w 
Wellhausen  gives  his  verdict  brit'tl>  :      1     i     1 

Abkiirzung  von  Johanan,  und  .Mt   ..,;  1  , 

Hel)riierevangelium,  ein  spiites  Maijiv.  -  li.,  1  -  I 
auch  gegen  das  vierte  Evangelium '  (/>((.s  Kraii>i 


the  same  as  that 
n  .ittrihutes  the 

„.  1,,   ilK-  Greek 
'.,  |..  637). 

_.L,a-n  das 
1  h  iiMi,  sondern 
,.  .l/„(/.  p.  83  f.). 

C^SAEEA  PHILIPPI 


C^SAREA  PHILIPPI 


249 


ture,  and  not  one  stone  among  a  number  built 
together  into  a  foundation  (cf.  Mt  7-'"'-)-  Neither 
the  figure  nor  the  function  thus  assigned  to  Peter 
exchides  the  work  of  tlie  otiier  Ajiostles  (Eph  2="), 
much  less  the  w.nk  cf  .Ti.sns(l  Ci,  S""),  which  is 
clearly  indicalnl  in  luMioo/i./ru.  'I'hi'  li^ure  describes 
simply  wliat  IVtci,  l^y  nusuii  of  his  strong,  ener- 
getic character,  an<l  in  view  uf  Jesus'  intention,  is 
to  be  for  the  Church  which  Jesus  will  build.  The 
idea  of  building  a  community  or  Church  was  familiar 
from  the  OT  (cf.  Ps  28^,  Jer  18"  31^  33"),  and  recurs 
in  the  NT  (cf.  Mt  21«  Ac  4",  1  P  2«-,  Ko  15=", 
1  Co  3"-,  2  Ti  2""'-,  He  S'"-).  By  the  use  of  the 
future  tense  and  the  choice  of  the  word  meaning 
to  build  rather  than  to  rebuild  {dvoiKooo/i^u,  cf.  Ac 
15"^),  Jesus  not  only  points  to  the  future  for  the 
origin  of  His  Church,  but  declares  that  it  will  be 
His  own  creation.  It  was  expected  that  the 
Messiah  would  have  a  people  and  would  rule  over 
them  in  an  organized  community.  The  idea  of 
such  a  community  cannot  have  been  strange  to 
the  disciples  who  had  just  confessed  their  faith  in 
Him.  It  would  have  been  strange  liad  Jesus  made 
no  reference  to  His  Church.  By  speaking  of  it 
He  made  plain  to  them  that  the  idea  was  included 
in  His  purpose,  and  thus  formed  an  element  in 
His  Messianic  consciousness.  The  future  founding 
of  the  Church  is  set  by  Hira  in  evident  contrast 
to  present  conditions,  but  the  fact  that  this  is 
included  in  Jesus'  present  purpose  and  thus  made 
part  of  His  Messianic  work  brings  it  into  vital 
and  organic  relation  with  the  present.  His  work 
had,  indeed,  not  yet  taken  on  its  Church-form, 
but  this  was  not  due  to  the  fact  that  the  idea  of 
such  a  Messianic  community  was  foreign  to  His 
jjurpose.  He  thus  encourages  His  disciples  in 
the  midst  of  popular  disaffection  and  unbelief, 
l)y  giving  them  assurance  vith  regard  to  His  in- 
tention. 

The  disciples  had  confessed  their  faith  in  Him, 
and  He  now  tells  them  that  however  little  promise 
present  conditions  may  give  of  such  a  future.  He 
will  found  His  Church.  And  He  will  do  this  in 
the  face  of  conditions  which  may  seem  to  them  to 
make  such  a  future  impossible.  Instead  of  im- 
proving, the  conditions  will  become  worse.  With 
His  conception  of  the  spiritual  nature  of  His  work 
and  the  consequent  character  of  His  Church,  Jesus 
saw  the  necessity  of  His  completed  work  and  final 
exaltation  in  order  to  the  full  realization  of  His 
Messianic  functions  in  such  a  Messianic  com- 
munity, and  hence  speaks  of  its  building  as  a 
future  event  (Ac  2^°,  Ro  1^).  It  is  not  strange, 
therefore,  that  He  speaks  but  seldom  of  His 
Church,  and  dwells  on  the  ideas  of  the  Kingdom, 
faith  and  discipleship,  in  which  its  spiritual  char- 
acter and  principles  are  set  forth. 

The  word  i«2XrW«,  regularly  used  in  the  LXX  to  translate 
'Oi3  ft'«*<«0.  occurs  frequently  in  the  writings  of  St.  Paul,  but 
only  here  and  in  Mt  1818  in  the  words  of  Jesus.  Its  authenticity 
has  been  questioned  (cf.  Holtzmann,  lldcom.  ;  but,  on  the 
other  hand,  Kostlin  in  PKE^x.  31S),  but  its  use  has  an  adequate 
basis  in  the  teaching  of  Jesus,  and  is  naturally  motived  here  not 
simply  by  the  confession  of  Peter,  but  also  by  Jesus'  thought  of 
the  future,  controlled  as  it  is  by  the  revelation  of  His  Passion 
which  He  is  about  to  make  to  His  disciples. 

So  permanent  and  strong  will  be  the  structure 
built  by  Jesus  on  Peter,  the  rock-foundation,  that 
the  gates  of  Hades — a  figurative  expression  used 
to  suggest  the  idea  of  the  very  greatest  strength, 
smce  they  withstand  all  effort  to  force  them  open 
(Is  38'",  Wis  16'^  3  Mac  5=')-shall  not  surpass 
Ua.TiaxOaov(Tiv)  it  in  strength.*   Changing  the  figure 

•  Others  understand xana-ziirmri,  in  the  sense  thnt  tlip  ntfnrlc 
jjomg  forth  from  the  gates  of  Hades  shall  not  .,».,....„,.  ,i,,. 
Church(Zahn),oragain  that  the  gates  of  Hades  sli, II  i>     i  i    . 

strong  enough  to  withstand  the  attack  m.ide  on  il:   i,    i,     

Church,  Hades  in  the  former  interpretation  heiim i.r,|  ,,, 

the  kingdom  of  evil,  in  the  latter  as  the  kingdom  ot  diatli 
(Meyer). 


and  having  the  superstructure  in  mind,  Jesus 
declares  that  He  will  give  to  Peter  the  keys  of  the 
Kingdom  of  Heaven.  What  he  binds  upon  earth 
shall  be  bound  in  Heaven ;  what  he  looses  upon 
earth  sliall  lii>  loosed  in  Heaven.  The  phrase 
'Kinmlipiii  of  Heaven'  frequently  takes  the  place 
in  Mt.  of  tli(j  corresjjonding  phrase  'Kingdom  of 
t!od  '  in  ]\lk.  and  Lk.  Here  it  is  to  be  understood 
not  of  the  Kingdom  which  is  in  Heaven,  but  of  that 
Kingdom  which  has  its  origin  and  centre  in  the 
Heavenly  sphere,  whence  it  receives  its  character 
as  the  rule  of  God  and  its  determinative  principles 
as  moral  and  spiritual.  This  is  the  Kingdom  which 
Jesus  preached,  whose  coming  He  declared  to  be 
at  liand,  whose  character  and  principles  He  ex- 
pounded, and  whose  blessings  He  mediated.  But 
while  having  its  centre  in  Heaven,  this  Kingdom 
was  to  be  realized  upon  earth,  and,  in  its  future 
manifestation  at  least,  is  associated  closely  with 
the  Church.  The  authority  which  Peter  is  to 
exercise  has  reference  to  the  Church,  but  the  re- 
ciprocal relation  between  the  Kingdom  and  its 
Heavenly  centre  is  to  continue  in  its  future  mani- 
festation as  Jesus  had  known  it  in  His  own  experi- 
ence and  had  declared  it  in  His  teaching.  What 
Peter  does  as  His  representative  in  the  Church 
which  Jesus  will  build  shall  be  ratified  in  Heaven. 
The  keys  of  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven  symbolize 
administrative  authority  (cf.  Is  22--,  Kev  3"'-),  and 
the  phrase  '  bind  and  loose '  is  another  figurative 
expression  in  which  the  idea  of  regulating  seems 
to  be  fundamental  :  in  Aramaic  the  words  'asar 
and  shcj-a  mean  to  allow  and  to  disallow  (cf.  also 
ftlt  18'",  Jn  2U'-'^).  Both  figures  seem  to  have  re- 
ference to  the  internal  ali'airs  of  the  Church,  and 
are  therefore  not  to  be  understood  as  descriptive 
of  Peter's  proclamation  of  the  gospel,  as  if  by 
means  of  it  those  who  accepted  the  gospel  message 
were  to  be  received  into  the  Church  (keys)  and 
loosed  from  their  sins,  and  those  who  rejected  it 
were  to  be  excluded  and  so  bound  in  their  sins. 
The  description  of  Peter's  work  in  the  proclama- 
tion of  the  gospel  is  given  in  the  figure  which 
represents  him  as  the  foundation-rock  of  the 
Church.  The  power  of  the  keys  and  that  of  bind- 
ing and  loosing,  ho%vever,  are  not  only  closely 
associated  together,  l.mt  tliey  are  separated  from 
the  figure  of  tlie  rork,  and  together  describe  Peter's 
function  in  the  Cliunh  and  his  ijelation  to  its 
internal  manageme'nt  as  tliat  of  an  okov6/xos.  See 
also  art.  Keys  below,  and  '  Power  of  the  Keys '  in 
Hastings'  DB,  vol.  iv. 

In  the  command  of  Jesus  to  His  disciples  that 
they  should  tell  no  one  that  He  is  the  Christ,  Mt. 
not  only  joins  again  the  narrative  of  Mk.-Lk., 
but  rightly  interprets  the  briefer  form,  in  which 
they  gave  the  command,  by  the  words  Sn  avrds  ianv 
6  XpicTTis.  The  authenticity  of  this  and  similar 
commands,  especially  in  the  Gospel  of  Mk.,  has, 
indeed,  been  called  in  question  (Wrede,  Das  Mcs- 
siasgeheimnis) ;  but  the  command  is  (juite  natural 
here,  and  cannot  be  regarded  as  having  its  origin 
solely  in  the  general  apologetic  purpose  of  St.  Mark. 
It  has  reference  to  the  form  in  which  Peter's  con- 
fession was  made,  and  to  deny  its  authenticity 
would  necessitate  a  complete  reconstruction  of  the 
account  which  the  Gospels  give  us  of  Jesus'  life 
and  work. 

The  climax  of  the  scene  at  Cresarea  is  reached 
in  Jesus'  announcement  of  His  Passion.  Both  Mt. 
and  Mk.  signalize  His  words  as  the  beginning  of 
instruction  on  this  subject  (Mk.  xai  vp^aTo,  Mt. 
more  specifically  aTrb  rdre  rip^aro,  Lk.  connecting 
I  lie  announcement  directly  with  the  command  to 
il<  nee,  ciVwi'  6Vi  SeiT.i.T.a..  -iroWa.  Tradeti').  When 
•  Il -ns  became  aware  of  the  necessity  of  which  He 
lieie  for  the  first  time  speaks  explicitly  to  His  dis- 
ciples does  not  appear  clearly  from  the  Synoptic 


250 


C^ESAREA  PHILIPPI 


C/ESAREA  PHILIPPI 


Gospels.  The  Fourth  Gospel  indicates  that  He 
was  not  unaware  of  it  from  the  beginning  of  His 
public  ministry  (Jn  2",  cf.  ¥\  Mt  m^).  The 
bynoptic  Gospels,  however,  give  evidence  that  Jesus 
looked  forward  at  an  early  period  in  the  Galilajan 
ministry  to  the  time  when  He  would  be  removed 
from  His  disciples  (Mk  2™).  Certainly  the  narra- 
tive here  does  not  justify  the  inference  that  He 
now  for  the  first  time  became  conscious  of  tlie 
necessity  of  His  suffering,  any  more  than  the 
question  to  Peter  and  Peter's  confession  justify 
tne  inference  that  Jesus  or  His  disciples  now  for 
the  first  time  became  conscious  of  His  Messiah- 
ship.  The  conditions  of  His  ministry  may  well 
have  influenced  Jesus  to  speak  of  the  .subject  to 
His  disciples  at  this  particular  time.  Foreseeing 
not  merely  the  necessity  of  His  suffering,  but  its 
near  realization.  He  spoke  to  the  disciples  of  it  for 
the  purpose  of  preparmg  them  for  the  issue  of  His 
work  and  of  claiifying  the  content  of  their  faith. 
The  necessity  of  which  Jesus  speaks  is  to  be  under- 
stood as  moral  rather  than  physical,  since  it  sprang 
out  of  tlie  nature  of  His  Messianic  work  by  which 
He  was  brought  into  conflict  with  existing  con- 
ditions. But  if  faithfulness  to  His  work  involved 
suffering,  the  necessity  of  which  He  .speaks  be- 
comes voluntarily  conditioned  by  a  willingness  to 
suffer,  and  this  finds  its  ultimate  explanation  only 
in  the  Messianic  consciousness  of  Jesus.  A  neces- 
sity springing  out  of  faithfulness  to  His  work,  and 
thus  to  Himself,  is,  however,  not  only  moral,  but 
falls  within  the  Divine  purpose ;  and  Jesus  evi- 
dently so  conceived  it,  since  in  rebuking  Peter  He 
speaks  of  it  as  to  tou  deov.  The  idea  of  a  suftering 
Messiah,  if  current  at  all  at  the  time  of  Jesus,  was 
certainly  not  a  prominent  feature  of  the  popular 
Messianic  hope.  The  traces  of  it  wliich  are  found, 
moreover,  do  not  explain  the  form  in  which  it 
appeai-s  in  the  Synoptic  Gcspels.  For  liere  we 
find  it  closely  associated  with  a  resurrection  and 
a  glorious  coming  of  the  Son  of  Man  in  His  king- 
dom. 

However  clearly  Jesus  may  have  foreseen  His 
suffering,  and  however  calmly  He  may  have  an- 
nounced its  necessity,  the  care  with  which  He 
prepared  for,  as  well  as  the  actual  result  of.  His 
statement,  reveal  plainly  the  fact  that  tlie  idea 
was  foreign  and  repugnant  to  the  thought  of  the 
disciijles.  A  Messiah,  though  in  retirement,  op- 
posed by  the  leaders  and  unrec-opiized  by  the 
people,  they  could  believe  Him:  l.nt  IIkU  He 
should  suffer,  and  that  in  .Tim  u-ib  m  wlnic  a- 
Messiah  He  should  rather  est aMi -I,  11,,  Vm-.U^ux, 
seemed  to  them  incredible.  IVt'i  s  artiuu  in  re- 
buking Jesus  sprang  naturally  and  spuutaueou.sly 
from  the  limitation  of  his  outlook  into  the  Mes- 
sianic future.  The  view  which  would  exclude 
suflering  from  His  future,  Jesus,  however,  rejects 
not  only  as  human  in  character  and  origin,  but 
as  opposed  to  the  DiWne  purpose ;  so  that  Peter 
in  urging  it,  however  conscientiously,  became  for 
Jesus  a  tempter,  a  hindrance  in  His  way. 

In  the  words  which  follow  Peter's  rebuke,  Jesus 
sets  forth  the  conditions  of  discipleship,  and  points 
out  that  the  way  of  the  disciple  in  following  Him, 
like  His  way  in  going  to  Jerusalem  to  suffer,  in- 
volved not  only  suffering,  but  willingness  to  suffer 
for  His  sake — the  voluntary  taking  up  of  the  cross 
and  foll()win<;  Him  in  the  pathway  of  self-sacrifice. 
Empli.isi-i  i-  plairj  liy  .r(~iis  on  personal  relation- 
shijitii  Mini,  i.\..iliirj  a  ...n^iiousness  on  His  part 
of  His  i.«u  >u[ii' 111'-  -ii^iiiricance  for  the  world  of 
spiritual  riailiti.-^  ma. I.-  a.rcssible  through  Him 
and  His  message  (cf .  also  Mt  W«-).  The  fate  of  the 
soul,  with  its  possibilities  of  spiritual  life,  is  made 
dependent  not  on  a  denial  of  the  will  to  live,  but  on 
a  denial  of  the  will  to  live  for  self  and  earthly  gain. 
He  who  would   be  Jesus'  disciple  must   seek   his 


true  and  highest  life-principle  in  self-sacrifice  for 
Jesus'  sake  (cf.  Gal  2-").  Self-suiTender  to  Jesus 
is  made  the  principle  of  spiritual  life,  and  as  such 
it  must  be  absolute,  superseding  even  the  desire 
for  life  itself.  In  stating  such  conditions  of  dis- 
cipleship, Jesus  reveals  a  consciousness  of  His  own 
si^milicance  for  men  which  transcends  the  present 
and  partakes  of  the  character  of  the  truth  which 
He  proclaimed.  Discipleship  is  thus  drawn  into 
and  made  part  of  that  future  in  which  He  Him- 
self was  conscious  of  holding  a  place  of  highest 
authority.  His  words  set  the  present  in  closest 
relation  with  the  future,  since  its  true  worth  will 
then  be  revealed.  The  relation  which  men  sustain 
to  Him  now  will  then  have  its  intrinsic  value  made 
manifest  by  His  attitude  towards  them.  '  For  the 
Son  of  man  shall  come  in  the  glory  of  his  Father, 
and  with  his  angels ;  and  then  shall  he  render  to 
every  man  according  to  his  deeds.'  This  prophetic 
description  of  the  mture  closes  with  these  words : 
'Verily  I  say  unto  you.  There  be  some  here  of 
them  that  stand  by,  which  shall  in  no  wise  taste 
of  death,  till  they  see  the  kingdom  of  God  come 
with  power'  (so  Mk. ;  Lk.  has  simply  'till  they 
see  the  kingdom  of  God';  Mt.  more  fully,  'till 
they  see  the  Son  of  man  coming  in  his  kingdom '). 
The  words  are  pronhetic,  and  describe  an  experience 
in  which  some  of  those  then  in  Jesus'  company  shall 
share.  The  object  of  this  experience  is  in  Lk.-Mk. 
the  Kingdom,  or  the  Kingdom  (having)  come  (Mk. 
uses  the  perf.  part.  i\rj\veviav)  in  power.  It  seems 
thus  to  be  conceived  as  a  future  but  actually  e.x- 
isting  state  or  fact  rather  than  event.  In  Mt.  the 
same  experience  is  described,  but  the  fact  of  the 
Kingdom's  presence  is  as.sociated  with  or  described 
in  terms  of  the  Son  of  Man's  coming  [epxit^d'oi')  in 
His  kingdom.  In  their  context  the  words  seem  to 
refer  to  the  Messianic  kingdom,  and  to  describe  it 
in  one  of  its  eschatological  aspects.  The  disciples 
had  just  confessed  Jesus,  who  called  Him.self  the 
Son  of  Man,  to  be  the  Messiah,  and  He  had  de- 
clared that  the  Son  of  Man  would  come  in  glory. 
He  now  declares  that  some  of  those  present  will 
live  to  witness  the  coming  of  the  Son  of  ^lan,  the 
Messiah,  in  His  kingdom  ;  by  which  we  may  under- 
stand the  establishment  of  His  kingdom  in  power. 
This,  however,  was  to  be  realized  in  the  Church ; 
for  Jesus,  in  speaking  of  His  intention  with  refer- 
ence to  the  future  founding  of  His  Church,  had  not 
only  indicated  the  close  relation  of  the  Church  to 
the  Kiimilimi  of  Heaven,  the  one  being  the  future 
manitc~latii)ii-liirui  of  the  other,  but  also  stated 
lliai  Hi-  llim-.ll!  would  build  the  Church,  thus 
directly  revealing  His  power  in  it.  It  is  therefore 
not  unnatural  to  understand  the  'coming  of  the 
Son  of  Man  in  his  kingdom '  or  '  the  kingdom  (hav- 
ing) come  in  power '  as  referring  to  the  establish- 
ment of  His  Church,  its  equipment  with  power 
through  the  gift  of  the  Spirit  at  Pentecost,  and 
its  activity  in  realizing  the  Kingdom  under  His 
direction.  Others  seek  the  fulfilment  of  Jesus' 
prophecy  in  the  Transfiguration,  His  appearances 
to  the  disciples  after  the  resurrection,  or  speci- 
fically in  the  gift  of  the  Spirit  at  Pentecost,  or  in 
the  fall  of  Jerusalem,  or  still  more  generally  '  in 
some  convincing  proof  that  the  ^Messiah's  kingdom 
had  been  actually  set  up,  as  predicted  by  prophets 
and  by  Christ  Himself'  (Alexander,  Matthew, 
p.  446). 

LiTERATCBE.  —  Eeland,  Palcrstina,  ii.  918-922;  Gu^rin,  De- 
scription de  la  Palestine,  '  GalUiSe,'  ii.  308-323 ;  SWP  i.  95, 
109-113;  G.  A.  Smith,  BGUL.  473-480;  Bulil,  GAP  238  0.; 
Bawkkcr,    Pah-st ;,„■'.    201 1- ;    SihiiiiT.    HJP   (Index);    artt. 

'C'r,-  r     •    n'-:--N   I    .i.....,r-  ,.'!,,...)   in   Hastinra'   DB; 

•i-.'         I  -  !  -       :i  l'eter'(Schmiedel) 

it,  ;  >   (Outhe),  'Kirche' 

(K  ■  Herzot,''s  PRE^; 

H.l-  ;/..„tom-<!,i.  p.211f. ; 

Zaiiii.  ,-ri,t,.pinn„   ....  .i;,..,........ .    ...1,1, nil,   Wonts  of  Jestts, 

p.  -I'^iS.  ;  Vos,  The  Talclunj  1/  Jtsiis  ojncenuiwi  the  Kingdom 


CAIAPHAS 


CALENDAR,  THE  CHRISTIAN     251 


of  God  and  the  Church,  140-168;  Lowrie,  The  Church  and  its 
Organizatiim,  102-123 ;  Hort,  The  Christian  Ecctesia ;  A.  B. 
Bruce,  The  Trainimj  of  the  Twelve,  ch.  xi. 

William  P.  Armstrong. 

CAIAPHAS  (Kaid^as;  according  to  Josephus, 
'Joseph  Caiaphas')  was  appointed  high  priest  of 
the  Jews  in  or  soon  after  A.D.  18,  and  held  office 
until  lie  was  dejiosed  by  Vitellius  about  A.D.  36 
(Jos.  Ant.  XVIII.  ii.  2,  iv.  3).  He  is  referred  to  as 
the  high  priest  in  Lk  3=  (witli  Annas),  Mt  26^- ", 
and  is  mentioned  along  with  Annas,  John,  and 
Alexander  among  the  heads  of  the  Sanhedrin  in 
Ac  4".  The  length  of  his  rule,  compared  with  the 
short  periods  allowed  to  his  immediate  predeces- 
sors, suggests  that  he  proved  a  satisfactory  and 
submissive  agent  of  the  Roman  policy.  By  two 
of  the  Evangelists,  St.  Matthew  and  St.  John, 
Caiaphas  is  specially  connected  by  name  with 
the  procedure  which  led  to  the  condemnation 
and  cleath  of  Jesus.  When,  after  the  raising  of 
Lazarus,  the  '  high  priests  and  Pharisees '  held  a 
meeting  of  the  Sanhedrin  (informal,  as  Caiaphas 
does  not  appea,r  to  have  presided),  it  was  Caiaphas 
who  gave  the  ironically  prophetic  advice  tliat  it 
was  expedient  that  one  man  should  die  for  the 
people  (Jn  II'").  'St.  John,  contemplating  that 
sentence  years  after,  could  not  but  feel  that  there 
was  something  in  those  words  deeper  than  met 
the  ear,  a  truth  almost  inspired,  which  he  did 
not  hesitate  to  call  prophetic'  (F.  W.  Robertson, 
Sermons,  i.  134).  In  saying  that  'being  high 
priest  that  same  year  he  prophesied,'  the  Evangelist 
does  no  more  than  claim  for  the  theocratic  head  of 
the  nation  the  function  which  might  be  supposed 
to  be  latent  in  his  office  (cf.  the  remark  of  Philo 
quoted  by  Westcott :  '  the  true  priest  is  a  pro- 
phet'; see  also  the  remarks  of  Dale,  The  Atonement, 
p.  169  ft'. ),  and  had,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  been  exercised 
by  some  of  his  predecessors  in  the  office  (Nu  27-')- 
The  threefold  repetition  by  St.  John  of  the  state- 
ment that  Caiaphas  was  high  priest  '  that  same 
year '  (AV ;  RV  '  that  year ')  has  been  made  the 
ground  of  charging  the  Fourth  Evangelist  with 
Ignorance  of  tlie  fact  that  the  high  priest  might 
hold  office  for  more  than  one  jear.  But  tliis  criti- 
cism rests  on  a  misapprehension  of  the  phrase  (t-oO 
iviavToO  iKebov),  whicli  emphasizes  not  the  date,  but 
the  character  of  tlie  year  =  ' that  fateful  year'  (cf. 
Jn  20>»  Mk  4»=). 

The  resolution  thus  prompted  took  effect  in  the 
arrest  of  Jesus ;  but,  as  son-in-law  to  Annas, 
Caiaphas  permitted  the  prisoner  to  be  taken  first 
before  Iiim  (Jn  18'^)  for  a  private  examination. 
Whether  this  took  place  in  the  '  palace'  of  Caiaphas, 
where  Annas  was  living,  or  elsewhere,  is  not  clear. 
It  is  also  uncertain  whether  the  Fourth  Gospel 
contains  any  record  of  an  examination  of  Jesus  by 
Caiaphas.  According  to  the  reading  and  interpre- 
tation of  Jn  18**  in  RV,  it  does  not ;  but  it  is  held 
by  some  (e.g.  Meyer  and  Edersheira,  against  West- 
cott) that  AV  may  be  correct,  and  that  the  high 
■priest  referred  to  in  vv.'^- '"  and  -^  was  Caiaphas. 
According  to  the  narrative  of  the  Synoptists,  it 
was  to  Caiaphas  the  '  high  priest,'  or  the  '  house 
of  Caiaphas,'  that  Jesus  was  led,  and  there,  at  the 
(irregular)  meeting  of  the  Sanhedrin  at  daybreak 
(Mt  26^",  Mk  14=5,  Lk22««),  Caiaphas  presided;  and 
it  was  he  who  brought  the  trial  to  a  conclusion  by 
declaring  Jesus  guiltj  of  blasphemy,  and  demand- 
ing sentence  upon  Him. 

Caiaphas  appears  again  in  Ac  4"  in  company 
with  Annas  and  others,  as  initiating  the  persecu- 
tion of  the  Apostles,  and  in  the  later  proceedings 
is  probably  the  '  high  priest '  referred  to  in  Ac 
5"- ='--'7' and  9'. 

Literature.— On  the  name.  Nestle  in  Expos.  Times,  x.  (1899) 
p.  185.  On  the  historical  circumstances,  Schiirer,  BJP  ii.  i. 
182f.,19!);  Andrews,  ii/eo/oKrLOT-d,  137,  505.  On  the  ethical 
aiuniljcance  of  Caiaphas'  attitude  to  Christ,  F.  W.  Robertson, 


C.  A.  Scott. 
CAINAN. — The  name  occurs  twice  in  St.  Luke's 
genealogy  of  our  Lord  :  (1)  of  the  son  of  Arphaxad 
(Lk  S^y-,  (2)  of  the  son  of  Enos  (v.^sj. 

CALENDAR,  THE  CHRISTIAN.- 

I.  The  Christian  Week. 

1.  Tlie  Lord's  Day. 

2.  Wednesday  and  Friday. 

3.  Saturday. 

II.  The  Christian  Year. 

1.  Easter. 

(a)  The  name. 

(6)  Early  observance  of  Easter. 

(c)  The  Quartodeciman  Controversy. 

id)  Determination  of  Easter.    Paschal  cycles. 

(e)  The  fast  before  Easter. 

(.0  Palm  Sunday. 

Q)  JMaundy  Thui-sday. 

(A)  Easter  Week. 

2.  Pentecost  and  Ascension. 

(a)  The  name  'Pentecost.' 

(6)  Connexion  of  Pentecost  and  Ascension. 

3.  Christmas  and  Epiphany. 

(a)  Their  origin. 
(())  Advent. 

4.  Presentation  of  Christ  in  the  Temple. 

5.  Commemoration  of  Saints,  etc. 
Recapitulation  of  festal  cycles. 

Literature. 

The  Christian  Calendar  in  its  origin  appears  to 
have  been  based  mainly  on  the  desire  to  com- 
memorate, by  festival  or  by  fast,  the  events  of  our 
Lord's  life  upon  earth.  These  commemorations 
were  either  weekly  or  annual.  But  while  the 
weekly  observances  were  developed  early — almost, 
or  in  part  quite,  from  Apostolic  times — the  annual 
celebrations  were  of  very  slow  growth,  and  for 
some  three  hundred  years  were  confined  to  the 
two  seasons  when  the  Jews  and  Christians  in 
common  observed  a  commemoration,  Easter  and 
Pentecost.  It  is  noteworthy,  as  showing  that  the 
main  desire  was  to  commemorate  the  events  in  the 
life  of  Jesus,  that  one  of  the  very  earliest  books 
which  exhibit  any  considerable  development  of  the 
festal  cycle  is  the  so-called  Pilgrimage  of  Silvia, 
otlierwise  of  Etheria  (about  A.D.  385),  in  whieli  the 
customs  at  Jerusalem  are  described.  It  was  natural 
that  those  who  lived  in  the  land  where  the  events 
narrated  by  the  sacred  history  took  place,  should 
wish  to  commemorate  them  on  the  spot  by  annual 
observances.  But  this  development  took  place 
only  in  the  4th  century. 

I.  The  Christian  Week.— 1.  The  Lord's  Day.— 
It  is  significant  that  the  first  meeting  of  the  dis- 
ciples after  the  evening  when  they  saw  their  newly- 
risen  Master  was,  as  far  as  the  Gospel  tells  us,  on 
the  immediately  succeeding  '  first  day  of  the  week ' 
( Jn  202«  ij.ee'  T)iJ.ipa^  oktu  :  note  how  emphatically  the 
Evangelist  says  of  the  preceding  week,  ttj  ixiq.  tSiv 
aa^§i.Toiv,  20*,  and  t^  V^p?  ^Kefer;  tj  m'P  aa^^aruv, 
20'^).  It  was  more  than  an  accidental  coincidence 
if,  as  is  very  generally  assumed,  the  birthday  of 
the  Church  (Ac  2')  was  also  on  the  first  day  of  tlie 
week.  At  Troas  the  Christians  met  together,  or 
held  a  synaxis  {awrfyixivoiv  ijiiwv),  on  the  first  day 
of  the  week  for  worship  and  the  Eucharist  (Ac2U', 
where  iv  tJ  /tt$  tQv  aa^^Aroiv  appears  to  be  more 
than  a  mere  chronological  reference,  and  to  indi- 
cate a  custom),  and  also  probably  for  the  Agape 
(cf.  20'  with  20").  In  this  and  other  passages  it  is 
necessary  to  remember  that  the  'first  day  of  the 
week'  began,  from  the  point  of  view  of  a  Jew, 
with  what  we  should  call  Saturday  night;  and 
this  consideration  is  against  Prof.  Ramsay's  view 
that  the  service  at  Troas  began  on  wliat  ine  should 
call  Sunday  night  {St.  Paul  the  Traveller,  ch. 
xiii.  S  3).  That  it  was  the  custom  for  Christians  to 
meet"  together  for  worship  on  the  first  day  of  tlie 
week  appears  also  from   1  Co   16=  (Kara.  iJ.ia.v  <rofi- 


252     CALENDAR,  THE  CHRISTIAN 


CALENDAR,  THE  CHRISTIAN 


pirov),  Avliere  the  Corinthians  are  bidden  each  to 
'  lay  by  him  in  store,'  that  there  mij,'ht  be  no  col- 
lection when  the  Apostle  came.  This  would  point 
probably  to  a  weekly  assemblj'  at  which  alms  were 
collected.  Otherwise  there  is  no  reason  why  any 
one  day  of  tlie  week  should  be  specially  mentioned. 
The  first  mention  of  the  '  Lord's  Day '  by  name 
is  Rev  1'",  if  indeed  this  is  the  right  interpretation 
(iytvbuTiv  ill  irfevnari  en  tj  /tupia/cj  Tj/iipg.).  This 
phrase  lias  been  variously  interpreted  of  the  first 
day  of  the  week,  or  of  the  Day  of  Judgment,  or  of 
the  Sabbath,  or  of  Easter  Day.  The  last  two 
interpretations  may  be  dismissed  as  having  no 
support  from  the  earliest  eci-lesiastieal  writings. 
The  identification  of  n  KvpiaKi]  rijUpa.  with  the  Last 
Day  has  more  probability ;  it  would  then  be 
equivalent  to  ii  rj/JJ pa  roO  Kvplov  (2  Th  2- ;  of.  1  Tli 
5-  ijfiipa  Kvpiov,  Ac  2-"  from  Jl  2^',  2  P  3">,  1  Co  1" 
ev  Ty  ii,u4pa  tov  Kvpiov  i)p^G)v  'Ir/iroO  '^piarou,  and  1  Co 
5*,  2  Co  1",  Ph  I'^l,  and  would  mean  that  the  Apo- 
calyptist  is  carried  forward  in  vision  to  the  day  of 
the  end  of  the  world.  It  is  a  valid  objection  to 
this  view  tliat  it  would  practically  make  the 
Apocalypse  deal  only  with  the  future,  and  that 
almost  the  earliest  ecclesiastical  authors  after  the 
canonical  writers  use  KvpiaK-q  in  the  sense  of  the 
first  day  of  the  week  (see  below).  The  more 
probable  interpretation  of  the  phrase  in  question 
is  therefore  the  first  mentioned  above. 

The  NT  evidence  does  not  compel  the  belief  that 
the  Lord's  Day  was  of  universal  observance  in  the 
earliest  ages  of  the  Church,  but  it  at  least  makes 
it  probable  (especially  when  we  find  it  so  generally 
established  in  the  next  age)  that  it  was  of  Apos- 
tolic precept.  And  there  is  nothing  to  forbid  the 
supposition  that  it  was  a  following  of  the  spirit  of 
the  teaching  of  the  great  Forty  Days  (Ac  1^).  But 
we  may  gather,  with  the  historian  Socrates  (HE 
V.  22),  that  the  '  Sa\'iour  and  His  Apostles '  did 
not  make  fixed  rules  as  to  the  observance  of  days, 
and  '  enjoined  us  by  no  law  to  keep  this  feast  [he 
is  speaking  of  Easter,  but  his  argument  ap])iies 
equally  to  Sunday],  nor  do  the  Gospels  and  Apostles 
threaten  us  with  any  penalty,  ptinishment,  or 
curse  for  the  neglect  of  it,  as  the  Mosaic  Law  does 
the  Jews.  .  .  .  The  aim  of  the  Apostles  was  not  to 
appoint  festival  days,  but  to  teach  a  righteous  life 
and  piety.' 

To  pass  to  the  post-Apostolic  age,  Barnabas 
(xv.  9)  says  :  '  We  keep  the  eighth  day  for  rejoic- 
ing, in  the  which  also  Jesus  rose  from  the  dead, 
and,  ha^'ing  been  manifested,  ascended  into  the 
heavens,'  a  passage  which  throws  some  light  on 
the  occasional  observance  in  later  times  of  Ascen- 
sion Day  and  Pentecost  together.  Barnabas  pur- 
posely names  the  '  eighth  day '  rather  than  the 
first,  as  he  has  just  spoken  of  it  as  following  the 
Jewish  Sabbath,  the  seventh  day.  'I  wUl  make 
the  beginning  of  the  eighth  day,  which  is  the  be- 
ginning of  another  world.'  The  Didachc  speaks  of 
the  synaxis  on  the  Lord's  Day,  and  uses  the  pleon- 
astic phrase  /cari  KvpiaKi\v  Ts.vplov  (rwox^^t'-es ;  the 
purpose  of  the  synaxis  was  thaV  the  C  li  istians 
might  break  bread  and  celebrate  tlie  Eiu-.iarUt, 
having  confessed  their  sins  Miat  their  siu-ilice 
might  be  pure  (§  14). — Ignatius  (Magn.  §  9)  spoiiks 
of  Christians  no  longer  observing  Sabbaths,  but 
fashioning  their  lives  after  the  Lord's  Day  (m-vk^ti 
ca^PaTliovres,  dWa  koto  KvpiaK^v  fuvxes),  which  at 
least  involves  a  general  observance  of  the  first  day 
of  the  week. — Pliny  {Ep.  96)  says  only  that  the 
Christians  met  on  a  fixed  day,  and  does  not  say 
which  ('soliti  stato  die  ante  hicem  convenire  car- 
menque  Christo  quasi  deo  dicere  secum  invicem 
.  .  . ').  He  apparently,  as  Lightfoot  observes 
{Ifinntius-,  i.  p.  52),  confuses  Baptism  and  the 
Eucharist ;  but  we  may  probably  gather  from  his 
account  that  the  Christians  of  Bithj'nia  met  before 


dawn  on  a  fixed  day  to  celebrate  the  Eucharist, 
and  later  in  the  day  met  for  the  Agape.  This 
inference  is  disputed  by  some. — Justin  Martyr 
describes  the  assembling  '  on  the  day  called  Sun- 
day' {Ty  Tou  TjXiovXeyo^ifi  n  hu^i-a]  f.irthe  Eucharist 
by  'all  who  live  in  citii  -  .i  in  ih.'  .  (nmtry'  (Apol. 
i.  §67).  He  also  expliriily  in, m  ions  the  Sunday 
collection  of  alms,  as  in  I  i  u  Hi  .  In  the  Dialogue 
also  Justin  extols  the  '  eighth  day  (cf .  Barnabas, 
Lc.)  as  possessing  a  'mysterious  import,'  which  the 
.seventh  day  had  not ;  he  is  referring  to  the  Jewish 
circumcision  as  a  type  of  'the  true  circumcision 
by  which  we  are  circumcised  from  deceit  and  ini- 
quity, through  Him  who  rose  from  the  dead  on  tlie 
first  day  after  the  Sabbath'  (Dial.  24,  41). 

That  KvpiaK-q  became  a  common  name  in  the 
2nd  cent,  for  the  first  day  of  the  week  is  further 
clear  from  the  fact,  which  Eusebius  tells  us  {HE 
iv.  26),  that  Melito,  bishop  of  Sardis  about  A.D. 
170,  wrote  a  book  vepi  KvpiaKTJ^  (6  ir.  k.  XAyos). 
Dionysius  of  Corinth  (A.D.  171)  in  his  Epistle  to 
Soter  calls  Sunday  '  the  Lord's  Day '  (Eusebius, 
HE  iv.  23  :  tt}v  Grip.cpov  KvpiaKT]v  aylav  T)fiipav  dnjya- 
yoti(v).  After  this  the  name  becomes  very  com- 
mon, and  we  find  it  both  in  Greek  (e.g.  Clement  of 
Alexandria,  Strom,  vii.  12)  and  in  Latin,  dies  du- 
minica  (e.g.  TertuUian,  de  Cor.  3). 

There  is  little  evidence  as  to  the  way  in  which 
the  Lord's  Day  was  observed  in  the  earliest  ages. 
The  Eucharist  and  probably  the  Agape  were  cele- 
brated ;  but  perhaps  to  a  great  extent  other  occu- 
pations went  on  much  as  usual.  It  would  not  be 
easy  for  Christian  working  men  to  absent  them- 
selves from  their  avocations  on  a  day  when  every- 
one around  them  was  working ;  and  this  may  have 
been  the  reason  why  the  synaxis  took  place  at 
night  or  before  dawn,  as  in  the  examples  in  Acts 
and  in  Pliny.  St.  Paul  apparently  began  his 
journey  from  Troas  (Ac  20)  on  Sunday.  "There  is 
no  evidence  in  the  earliest  ages  of  any  attempt  to 
transfer  the  obligations  of  Sabbath  observance  to 
the  Lord's  Day.  The  Jewish  Christians  already 
had  their  day  of  rest  on  the  Saturday.  But,  as 
Zahn  observes  (Skizzen  aus  dem  Leben  der  Alien 
Kirehe,  p.  214),  the  Gentile  Christians  must  have 
very  quickly  learnt  all  over  the  world  to  keep  the 
Lord's  Day ;  they  were  never  compelled  to  Keep 
the  Sabbath,  which  was  not  one  of  the  four  ob- 
servances enjoined  in  Ac  15'^. 

TertuUian,  however,  is  the  first  to  mention  a 
Sunday  rest  (Apologct.  16,  de  Orat.  23),  saying 
that  the  Christians  postponed  ordinary  duties  and 
business  only  on  that  day,  the  day  of  the  Lord's 
resurrection,  and  that  they  gave  up  '  the  day  of 
the  sun'  to  joy.  He  contrasts  the  Christian  with 
the  Jewish  rest  by  implication.  He  says  that  the 
Christians  did  not  kneel  on  the  Lord's  Day  (de 
Orat.  23,  de  Cor.  3).  This  custom  we  already  find 
in  Irena?us  (Fragm.  7),  who  traces  it  to  Apostolic 
times ;  and  it  was  afterwards  laid  down  in  the 
20th  canon  of  Niotea. 

For  the  3rd  and  4th  cents.,  the  Church  Orders, 
some  of  which  liave  only  lately  come  to  light,  and 
the  early  liidnscalia  (i.e.  the  work  as  it  was  before 
it  was  incorporated  in  the  Apostolic  Constitutions, 
and  as  we  have  it,  for  example,  in  the  Verrnia 
Latin  Fragments,  edited  by  Dr.  Hauler)  throw 
some  light  on  the  question  of  the  Lord's  Day. 
The  Christians  are  bidden  '  on  the  Lord's  Day  (die 
dominica),  putting  aside  everything,'  to  assemble 
at  church  (Hauler,  p.  44).  "The  fragment  breaks 
off  in  the  middle  of  a  sentence  explaining  the 
object  of  Sunday  churchgoin";  ('audire  salutare 
uerbuni  et  nutriri  ab  .  .  . ')  ;  but  we  can  fill  the 
gap  from  other  forms  of  the  Didascalia,  such 
as  the  Syriac  edited  by  Mrs.  Gibson,  from  which 
we  see  tfi»t  the  Eucharist  is  being  spoken  of  ('  be 
nourished  with  the  divine  food  whicli  endureth  for 


CALENDAR,  THE  CHRISTIAN 


CALENDAR,  THE  CHRISTIAN      253 


ever,'  Gibson,  ch.  xiii.).  This  appears  to  come 
from  the  original  Didascalla,  and  it  is  emphatic- 
ally said  that  the  Lord's  Day  is  the  great  time  for 
the  Christian  asseniljly,  for  prayer,  Eucharist,  and 
instruction  ;  and  tliis  emphasis  is  all  tlie  greater 
as  it  was  not  yet  customary  to  have  public  daily 
prayers  for  all  men.  But  about  A.D.  375  the 
writer  of  the  Apuxliilir  Constitutions,  in  adapting 
the  Di(liisr,ii;,i.   ;ili,is  this  direction   for  Sunday 

worshiji  1(1   :i    <■ Kind  to  assemble  twice  daily, 

morning;  niid  i^iiiin-  (ii.  59).  In  the  Testament  of 
our  Lord  (c  X*\r].  the  way  is  being  felt  towards 
public  daily  service  liy  providing  daily  forms  for 
the  clergy  and  tlie  presbyteresses,  with  whom  the 
devout  nii^ht  be  Invited  to  join  [see,  further,  on 
daily  service,  Wordsworth's  Ministry  of  Grace, 
ch.  vi. ;  and  Cooper  and  Maclean's  Testament  of  our 
Lord,  p.  189].  We  may  then  .say  that  until  the 
latter  part  of  the  4th  cent.  Sunday  was  the  only 
regular  and  universal  day  for  Christian  assemblies. 
There  is  a  possible  local  and  temporary  exception 
in  the  Hippolytean  Canons  (§  217,  ed.  Achelis), 
which  command  daily  service ;  but  some  have 
concluded  that  this  is  an  interpolation,  as  it  is 
thought  to  be  in  contradiction  to  §  226.  These 
Canons  allow  a  bishop  to  celebrate  the  Eucharist 
when  he  pleases.  And  again,  a  daily  celebration  of 
the  Eucharist  is  perhaps  foimd  in  Cyprian  {de  Orat. 
Dom.  18).  But  no  further  trace  of  this  is  found 
till  the  latter  part  of  the  4th  centuiy.  The  result 
arrived  at  does  not  mean,  however,  that  the  Chris- 
tians were  not  bidden  to  pray  daily  ;  from  a  very 
early  period,  certainly  from  about  A.D.  200  on- 
wards, regular  daily  hours  of  prayer  were  pre- 
scribed {e.g.  Can.  Hippol.  %  223  ft".).  But  private 
prayers  are  here  meant,  even  though  sometimes 
they  were  said  in  church.  For  other  synaxcs  in 
the  week,  see  below  (§§  2,  3). 

The  Lord's  Day  was  the  usiial  day  for  the  ordina- 
tion or  consecration  of  a  bishop  ;  so  the  older 
Didascalia  in  Mrs.  Gibson's  form,  §  iii.  [but  this 
is  an  interpolation  from  one  of  tlie  following  books], 
the  Egyptian  Church.  Order  (cd.  Tattiiiii,  i?  31),  the 
Apostolic  Consfit i(t'('iri\  (viii.  41,  ;niil  (lii^  Trstu mrnt 
Of  our  Lord  (i.  lill:  .-Um.  in  th,'  A7 /-,../-/>  Church 
0»-a!er-(§  21),  acconliH-  l„  Adidis,  Ih.Mv^h  Ludolf 
(ad  swam  Hist.  .-Kthwp.  CuuiuicuL  p.  323)  has  'in 
die  sabbati.'  The  Canons  of  Hippolytus  perhaps 
mention  Saturday,  though  Achelis  gives  'in  ea 
.  .  .  hebdomade ' ;  but  the  Arabic  for  '  Saturday ' 
and  'week'  are  pronounced  alike  (see  Rahmani, 
Test.  D.  N.  Jesii  Christi,  p.  xxxvi). 

The  rest  on  the  Lord's  cbiy  appears  (especially 
until  the  time  of  Constantinc)  to  have  been  mainly 
to  allow  of  church-going.  But  in  the  edict  of 
Constantine  in  321,  the  magistrates  and  people  in 
cities  are  bidden  to  rest,  and  all  worksliops  are 
directed  to  be  closed  '  on  the  venerable  day  of  the 
sun ' ;  while  no  such  obligation  is  laid  on  those 
engaged  in  agricultural  pursuits.  Whatever  the 
motive  of  the  emperor  in  making  this  decree  may 
have  been  (and  this  is  disputed),  it  doubtless  did 
much  to  bring  about  a  weekly  holiday  on  the 
liord's  Day. 

2.  Wednesday  and  Friday  fasts.— Almost  from 
the  beginning  we  can  trace  an  observance  of  these 
two  days  for  the  purpose  of  fasting.  In  this  way 
the  early  Christians  interpreted  our  Lord's  words 
in  Mt  9'^  that  they  sliould  fast  when  the  bride- 
groom should  be  taken  av  ay  from  them  ;  though, 
as  we  shall  see,  some  found  a  more  particular 
fulfilment  of  these  words  in  the  fast  before  Easter. 
The  reason  why  Wednesday  and  Friday  were 
chosen  is  not  entirely  obvious.  The  stricter  Jews 
liad  made  a  practice  of  fasting  '  twice  in  the  week ' 
(Lk  181=),  and,  as  we  learn  from  tlie  Didache  (§  8), 
tlie  Christians  took  over  the  practice,  but  changed 
the  days.     Probably  ever  since  the  Return  from 


the  Captivity,  Monday  and  Thursday  had  been  the 
Jewish  fasts,  though  we  read  of  Judith  fasting 
daily  save  on  Sabbaths  and  New  Moons  and  the 
eves  of  both  and  'the  feasts  and  solemn  days 
of  the  house  of  Israel'  (Jth  8").  Monday  and 
Thursday  were  chosen,  or  were  afterwards  ac- 
counted for,  because  there  was  a  tradition  that 
Moses  went  up  into  the  Mount  on  the  latter  day 
and  came  down  on  the  former.  But  these  were 
not  matters  of  law,  for  the  Mosaic  Code  prescribes 
only  the  Day  of  Atonement  as  a  fast ;  and  thougli 
occasional  fasts  were  ordered  in  times  of  trouble, 
these  were  never  permanent  nor  of  universal  obli- 
gation. Thus  the  Pharisee's  boast  in  Lk  18'-  was 
that  he  did  more  than  he  was  obliged  by  law  to 
do  (see,  further,  in  Plummer's  St.  Luke,  in  loc.). 
In  the  sub- Apostolic  age  the  Christians  went  a 
step  further  and  seem  to  have  tried  to  make 
tlie  Wednesday  and  Friday  fasts  universal.  The 
Didache  (§  8)  says  :  '  Let  not  your  fastings  be  with 
the  hypocrites  [the  Jews],  for  they  fast  on  the 
second  and  the  iifth  day  of  the  week ;  but  do  ye 
keep  your  fast  on  the  fourth  day  and  on  the 
preparation '  (there  is  a  change  of  construction : 
vrjUTevovui  .  .  .  Seirripq.  aa^^druv  .  .  .  v/xei!  Si 
vTia-TeuiraTe  TerpdSa  Kal  irapaaKevriy.  For  the  latter, 
v-ria-Tdjio  witli  direct  accusative,  see  the  parallel 
Apost.  Const,  vii.  23  and  v.  15  ;  and  Oxyrhynchits 
Loffifi,  2  :  ^av  firi  vipTe6<Tryre  rhv  Kbaixov,  and  Testa- 
ment of  our  Lord,  ii.  6  and  12  [apparently]).  A 
reason  was  found  for  the  choice  of  Wednesday  and 
Friday  in  the  fact  that  on  the  former  day  the  Jews 
made  a  conspiracy  against  our  Lord,  and  that  He 
was  crucified  on  the  latter.  But  tliis  first  appears 
in  Peter  of  Alexandria  (t  311),  who  gives  this  ex- 
planation in  liis  ('iiuniii.-iil  J':/ux//c  [canon  xv.). 
It  reappears  el-i'\\lM'i  !■,  .,,/.  in  J/m^f.  Const,  v.  15. 
Another  expl.-iii;il  inii  isi;i\,n  l.y  (  Irinent  of  Alex- 
andria {Strum,  vii.  I'_').  11. •  s;i'\  s  that  the  fourth 
and  sixth  days  are  niiin''!  Iiom  lliiiiies  and  Aphro- 
dite respectively.  Tlie  1 1  in-  (  In  i-l  i,iii  or  'Gnostic' 
fasts  in  his  liife  in  re-^ini  I  til  (■.)\  ctousness  and 
voluptuousness,  from  whicli  all  the  vices  grow. 
Considering,  then,  that  the  symbolical  explana- 
tions diil'er,  and  that  they  are  not  found  until  a 
somewhat  later  date  than  the  first  mention  of 
tliese  days,  it  is  reasonable  to  suppose  that  they 
are  afterthoughts.  Yet  it  is  probable  that,  when 
the  Jewish  fast  days  had  to  be  changed,  Friday 
was  not  accidentally  fixed  upon,  but  that  our 
Lord's  death  on  that  day  would  make  it  appro- 
priate as  a  fast ;  and  when  once  Friday  was  chosen, 
Wednesday  would  follow  from  mere  considerations 
of  convenience. 

Other  early  authorities  for  week-day  fasts  are 
Hernias,  Tertulli.-ui,  Hippolytns,  the  Hljipolytean 
C'ano».s-,  and  Origen.  Hernias  (,s7(/(.  v.  1)  does  not 
mention  the  (biys  ,,n  iiliiih  i(  w.is  usual  to  fa.st; 
but  he  says  lli.ii  \v  w:,-.  1,1  iir  .mhI  seated  on  a 
ceilain  niouiii ,  m  :  ■  1  he  Lord,  when 

he  met  the  M 1     !  .  1 1  n  i  why  he  was 

there.  He  ri'iil'ir-,  iIkh  !,.■  1-  Lr.|,iiig  a 'station' 
(ffraWura  ^x"),  wliic-li  In'  cNpI.-iiiis  as  being  a 
fast.  Tertullian  expressly  mentions  Wednesday 
and  Friday  (dc  .Tcjuii.  2  and  14:  '  stationibus 
quartam  et  sext.'im  sabbati  dicamus,  et  jeiuniis 
parasceuen ' — a  difiicult  phrase,  since  the  sixth  day 
and  ' parasceue '  are  one;  perhaps  the  meaning  is 
that  Wednesday  was  a  'half- fast'  [de  Jcjun.  13] 
in  Tertullian's  time,  and  Friday  a  whole  one,  or 
perhaps  Tertullian  means  Gooil  Friday  here  by 
'parasceue').  He  says  that  the  Eucharist  was 
celebrated  on  those  days  {dc  Orat.  19).  For  Hip- 
polytus,  see  below  (§  3)  on  the  Srthivfl.ny  f.-ist.  The 
Hippolytean  Canon.';,  vliidi,  ^Inl  Inn' tiny  repre- 
sent Roman  usage  or  Al.xmnli  inn.  |.i  elm  My  date 
from  the  first  half  of  tinllnl  r.nl.,  |n.-ri  il.n  fasts 
'  feria  quarta  et  sexta  [ct  ipuuU;igiiiui.J,    Uiuugli  it 


254     CALENDAR,  THE  CHRISTIAN 


CALENDAR,  THE  CHRISTIAN 


approves  of  individuals  adding  other  fasts  to  these 
(§  154 ;  tlie  bracketed  words  seem  to  be  an  inter- 
polation). Origen  speaks  of  Wednesday  and  Friday 
as  days  'quibus  solemniter  jejunamus'  (m  Lev. 
Mom.  X.,  but  see  II.  1  c,  below). 

But  hereafter  there  is  a  break,  except  that  Peter 
of  Alexandria  gives  evidence- for  Egypt,  and  that 
in  the  Edessene  Canons  of  the  first  half  of  the  4th 
cent,  there  are  directions  for  the  Eucharist  on 
Sundays,  for  .service  'on  the  fourth  day,'  and  for 
service  '  on  the  eve '  [of  the  Sabbath]  at  the  ninth 
hour  (canons  2,  3).  Apparently  the  observance  of 
these  two  days  was  not  universal,  at  any  rate  in 
the  East,  tiU  towards  the  end  of  the  4th  century. 
There  is  no  mention  of  them  in  the  Testament  of 
our  Lord  (c.  350  A.D.  ?),  which  alludes  to  the  possi- 
bility of  a  fast  day  falling  in  the  week  (i.  22),  but 
does  not  prescribe  one.  There  is  in  this  curious 
Church  Order  a  regulation  for  bishops  and  pres- 
byters to  fast  three  days  a  week,  perhaps  only  for 
one  year  from  their  ordination,  but  they  are  not 
tied  down  to  any  fixed  days,  and  the  rule  is  ex- 
pressly said  to  be  'for  the  priests  only.'  The 
Arabic  Didascalia  (§  38,  c.  380  A.D.?),  which  is 
probably  based  on  the  Testament,  mentions  ex- 
plicitly Wednesday  and  Friday  as  the  two  fast 
days  of  the  week,  and  says  that  when  a  festival 
falls  on  these  days  they  shall  pray  and  not  receive 
the  holy  mysteries,  and  shall  not  interrupt  the 
fasting  till  the  ninth  liour  [see  a  German  trans- 
lation of  these  later  chapters  in  Funk's  Ajmstol. 
Konstitutionen ;  the  rest  is  not  published].  There 
is  abundant  evidence  towards  the  end  of  the  4tli 
cent,  for  these  days:  Apost.  Const,  v.  15,  vii.  23; 
Apost.  Can.  69  (68) ;  pseudo-Ignat.  ad  Phil.  13 ; 
Epiphanius,  Hcer.  Ixv.  6  (ed.  Dionysius  Petavius, 
lib.  iii.  6,  p.  910),  and  Expos.  Fid.  21.  The  Apos- 
tolic Constitutions  are  here  (vii.  23)  based  on  the 
Didachc,  and  repeat  its  language  about  tlie  change 
of  day  from  those  of  the  '  hypocrites. '  Tlie  Apos- 
tolic Canon  makes  it  incumbent  on  all,  under 
penalty,  to  keep  these  days,  unless  in  sickness. 
Pseudo-Ignatius,  wlio  is  probably  the  Kanie  as  the 
author  of  the  Apost.  Con-stiiitfioiis  [so  Hani.ick, 
Brightman  ;  but  Lightfoot  (If/nntiu.^-,  i.  205 f.) 
thinks  otherwise]  re-echoes  their  language.  Epi- 
phanius says  that  these  two  days  were  "observed 
everywhere  {ev  -n-aai  M/iaai  t^s  olKovnii/Ti^)  ;  he  calls 
them  Ttrpdi  and  irpocri^^aTov.  Bp.  J.  Wordsworth 
conjectures  that  the  restoration  of  the.se  days  in 
the  East  was  largely  due  to  Epiphanius  {3Im.  of 
Grace,  ch.  VI.  ii.).  Probably  in  Egypt  and  in 
many  parts  of  the  West  their  observance  was 
continuous. 

Usually  the  Eucharist  was  celebrated  on 
Wednesdays  and  Fridays ;  perhaps  often  (as  the 
Arabic  Didascalia  may  suggest)  at  a  late  hour, 
so  that  tlie  fast  might  be  preserved,  though  Ter- 
tullian  speaks  {de  Orat.  19)  of  tlie  service  being 
during  the  hours  of  fasting  on  these  days,  and  of 
scrupulous  communicants  reserving  the  elements 
in  private  so  as  not  to  break  the  fast.  In  '  Silvia ' 
(iv.  3,  in  Duchesne's  Origines,  Appendix)  the  ob- 
servance of  Wednesdays  and  Fridays  in  Lent  is 
spoken  of :  '  Diebus  vero  quadragesimarum  .  .  . 
quarta  feria  ad  nona  in  Syon  [the  traditional  scene 
of  the  descent  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  possibly  the  site 
of  St.  Mark's  house,  called  by  Epiphanius  and  St. 
Cyril  of  Jerusalem  the  Church  of  the  Apostles] 
proceditur  juxta  consuetudinem  totius  anni,  et 
omnia  a"untur  qu^  consuetudo  est  ad  nonani  agi 
prieter  oblatio.  .  .  .  Sexta  feria  autem  similiter 
omnia  aguntur  sicut  quarta  feria,'  which  must 
mean  that  the  Eucharist  was  usually  cil.lii.itiil  on 
Mount  Zion  after  none  at  3  p.m  i'\i;-\.\  in  l.c m. 
tliough  Duchesne  seems  to  invert  llii^  (iin(  lu-ii.n 
(p.  130  n.  4,  Eng.  ed.).  'Sih-ia'  say-  that  ,m  tlu's,. 
days,  unless  a  festival  of  the  martyi.s  full  on  one 


of  tliem,  even  the  catechumens  fasted.  In  the  5th 
cent,  an  exception  to  the  Wednesday  and  Friday 
Eucharist  is  mentioned  by  Socrates  (HE  v.  22)  in 
the  case  of  the  Wednesday  and  Friday  before 
Easter. 

These  days  were  called  'half-fasts,' sc»)(-7C/«ni<i 
(Tertull.  de  Jejun.  13),  because  on  them  Christians 
broke  their  fast  at  3  p.m.  or  even  at  noon;  or 
more  frequently  'station  days'  as  in  Hernias  (I.e., 
though  he  does  not  specify  the  days)  and  in  Ter- 
tullian  (t/c  Jejun.  14).  This  is  a  military  metaphor. 
TertuUian  (de  Orat.  19)  says :  '  If  the  Station  has 
received  its  name  from  the  example  of  military  life 
—for  we  are  God's  military  [cf.  2  Co  W,  1  Ti  1"]— 
certainly  no  gladness  or  sadness  chancing  to  the 
camp  abolishes  the  Stations  of  the  soldiers  ;  for 
gladness  will  carry  out  discipline  more  willingly, 
sadness  more  carefully.'  And  St.  Ambrose  says: 
'  Our  fasts  are  our  encampments  which  protect  us 
from  the  devil's  attack ;  in  short,  they  are  called 
Stations,  because  standing  and  staying  in  them 
we  repel  our  plotting  foes '  (Serm.  25,  ed.  of  1549, 
p.  716c). 

3.  Saturday. — There  was  a  considerable  diverg- 
ence of  custom  with  regard  to  the  observance  of 
Saturday.  In  the  East  it  was  commonly  regarded 
as  a  feast,  while  in  many  parts  of  the  West  it 
was  a  fast,  that  of  Friday  being  continued  to  the 
Saturday,  and  the  added  fast  being  called  a  '  super- 
position' {.^ii/irr/iiixitiii,  irWpSeiris).  Tertullian  (de 
Jejun.  14)  inLiitioiis  and  condemns  the  custom  of 
fasting  on  Saturday:  'You  [' psychic' Christians] 
sometimes  continue  your  station  even  over  tlie 
Sabbath,  a  day  never  to  be  kept  as  a  fast  except 
at  the  Passover  season.'  St.  Jerome  -writing  to 
Lucinius  in  A.D.  398  (Ep.  71)  discusses  the  question, 
and  says  that  it  had  been  '  treated  by  the  eloquent 
Hippolytus '  and  others ;  but  he  does  not  tell  us 
what  their  opinions  were.  The  Council  of  Elvira 
in  Spain  (c.  305  A.v.)  ordered  superpositions  each 
month  except  in  July  and  August  (canon  23) ;  and 
in  canon  26  says  that  the  enor  is  to  be  corrected 
'  ut  onini  sabbati  die  superpositiones  celebremus,' 
which  may  mean  that  superpositions  were  to  be 
held  every  Saturday  (Hefele),  or  that  this  weekly 
fast  was  henceforward  forbidden  (Bp.  J.  Words- 
worth). The  latter  meaning  would  suit  canon  23 
better,  but  Hefele's  construction  suits  canon  43. 
St.  Au^stine  says  that  in  his  time  they  did  not 
fast  at  Milan  on  Saturday  (Ep.  liv.  ad  Januar.  %  3). 
Writing  in  the  5th  cent.,  Socrates  (HE  v.  22)  says 
that  in  his  day  almost  all  Churches  celebrated  the 
sacred  mysteries  on  the  Sabbath  of  every  week 
[Saturday],  yet  the  Christians  of  Alexandria  and 
Rome,  on  account  of  some  ancient  tradition,  had 
ceased  to  do  this.  This  '  ancient  tradition '  may 
probably  go  back  before  the  4th  century.  Socrates 
goes  on  to  say  that  the  Egyptians  near  Alexandria 
and  those  of  ih.-  'llu'liaul  held  synaxes  on  the 
Sabbath,  but.  nnlik.-  ciln-r  Christians,  'after  hav- 
ing eaten  ami  -ali-ln-.l  llniiiselves  with  food  of 
all  kinds  [tlie  At;aiJL-  V],  in  the  evening  make  the 
Offering  (irepl  iairipav  irpoatpipovTei)  and  Jjartake  of 
the  mysteries.'  Sozonien  (HE  vii.  19)  repeats 
Socrates'  statements.  * 

The  Testament  of  our  Lord  (i.  23),  according  to 
our  present  Syriac  text,  prescribes  Eucharists  on 
Saturday  or  Sunday ;  but  we  must  probably  correct 
'or'  into  'and,'  by   the  omission  of  one  Syriac 

letter  (  o]   into  O),  and  the  rule  will  then  agree 

•  Dnm  IxtIpk-ii  (.Did.  d'.irrhrnl.  Chr^l.  s.v.  'Agape,'  col.  822) 
tliiiiK^  th-il  in  SM.rril.-s  :mii)  .sn/oiiM-ii  there  is  no  trace  of  an 
Au-^ip.  ,   I.  ,(      I,'       I       1    ,   ill  l;nt  it  appears  clear  to  the 

jti    ■  I  '  I  '':       I  '  '  i  -  iiiiclgatisfyingthemselves' 

|i  ur,:  I  I    'U-  puri*ose  of  the  custom 

(l-'--ii-ihi  1  1-^  1.1  k-.  I'  "I-  II''  '  ■.  nil). Ir  of  the  Last  Supper.  For 
.1  full  .1;,  ...-i..ii  ui  li.i  ..!.„::.  ..:.  1  d.ite  of  introduction  of  the 
.iS^il.'-i,  ---J  Hiistiu-i' t'"'lli''""''"=')^''i'--'-  of  Religion,  s.c. 


CALENDAR,  THE  CHRISTIAN 


CALENDAR,  THE  CHRISTIAN     255 


with  the  Arabic  Didnscalia,  §  38.  In  the  Apostolic 
Constitutions  (ii.  59)  Saturday  and  Suntlay  are 
specially  appointed  for  Divine  service ;  and  we 
note  that  in  this  passage  Saturday  is  the  author's 
interpolation  into  his  source,  the  old  Didasr.nlin 
mentioning  only  Sunday  (Hauler,  Verona  Frag- 
ments, p.  44).  Pseudo-Ignatius  forbids  a  Christian 
to  fast  on  Sunday,  save  on  Easter  Even  [the  read- 
ing of  the  last  words  is  doubtful,  but  the  sense  is 
clear],  lest  he  be  a  '  Christ-slayer '  (xpi-CTOKrdvos). 
And  so  the  same  author  in  Apost.  Const,  vii.  23 
bids  his  hearers  feast  on  the  Sabbath  and  tlie 
Lord's  Day,  except  on  Easter  Even  ;  and  in  v.  13, 
15,  he  bids  them  leave  off'  fa.sting  on  the  seventh 
day,  save  on  that  Sabbath  when  the  Creator  was 
under  the  ground.  The  Apostolic  Canons  strongly 
make  the  same  prohibition  as  to  fasting  on  ordi- 
nary Saturdays  (Canon  66  [65]). 

As  we  saw  above,  Alexandria  did  not  celebrate 
the  Eucharist  on  Saturday  for  some  time  before 
Socrates.  St.  Athanasius  {Apol.  con.  Ariaii.  11) 
implies  that  it  was  celebrated  on  Sunday  only. 
He  replies  to  a  charge  against  Macarius  of  break- 
ing a  chalice,  and  shows  that  the  place  alleged 
was  not  a  church,  that  there  was  no  one  there  to 
perform  the  '  sacred  office,'  and  that  the  day  was 
not  the  Lord's  Day,  and  did  not  require  the  use  of 
it  [the  sacred  oftice].  This  at  least  shows  that 
there  was  no  ii.xed  day  except  Sunday  for  the 
Eucharist.  And  Briglitnian  {Journ.  of  Theol. 
Stud.  i.  92)  thinks  that  tlie  same  is  implied  in  the 
Sacramcntary  of  Serapion  (c.  350  A. D.),  which  gives 
'  The  first  prayer  of  tlie  Lord's  day '  {KvpiaKijs), 
without  arranging  for  any  other  day.  But  this  is 
hardly  conclusive,  especially  as  Thmuis  was  not 
Alexandria,  and  Socrates  says  that  the  'neigh- 
bours of  Alexandria  '  did  have  a  Saturday  Euchar- 
ist. By  A.D.  380  the  latter  was  already  established 
in  Alexandria  (Timothy  of  Alex.  Ecspons.  Canon. 
13,  see  Brightman,  I.e.).  Cassian  says  that  in  his 
time  there  were  no  public  services  in  the  day 
among  the  Egyptians  except  on  Saturday  and 
Sunday,  when  they  met  at  the  third  hour  for 
Holy  Communion  (Inst,  iii,  2).  St.  Augustine 
sums  up  the  matter  by  saying  that  in  some  j^ilaces 
no  day  passed  witliout  the  sacrifice  being  ottered  ; 
in  others  it  was  only  on  Saturday  and  the  Lord's 
Day,  or,  it  may  be,  only  on  the  Lord's  Day  (Ep. 
liv.  ad  Januar.  §  2). 

For  Phrygia  and  Cappadocia  we  have  no  satis- 
factory evidence  with  regard  to  the  observance  of 
Saturday  in  the  4th  century.  The  49th  canon  of 
Laodicea  in  Phrygia  (e.  380?)  says  that  during 
Lent  the  bread  shall  not  be  ottered  except  on 
Saturday  and  Sunday,  from  which  it  may  perhaps 
be  inferred  that  these  two  days  were  '  liturgical ' 
all  through  the  year.  St.  Basil  in  his  03rd  Epistle, 
ad  CcEsariam  (v.l.  Csesariuiu  ;  in  the  Paris  ed.  of 
1618,  Ep.  289),  says  that  he  communicated  four 
times  a  week,  on  the  Lord's  Day,  Wednesday, 
Friday,  and  the  Sabbath,  and  on  other  days  'if 
there  were  a  commemoration  of  any  saint  [v.l. 
martyr) ;  he  refers  to  and  defends  tlie  practice  of 
private  reservation,  and  says  that  in  E<;yiit  eaeli 
layman  kept  the  Eueharistic  elements  in 'his  own 
house  and  partook  when  he  liked.  Thus  the  fact 
that  Basil  communicated  on  the  days  mentioned 
does  not  necessarily  imply  a  Eucharist  on  those 
days. 

It  is  noteworthy  that  Saturday  and  Sunday  have 
remained  in  the  Greek  Chnrcli  as  tlie  only  '  I'itnrgi- 
cal'  days  in  Lent,  as  i.idviilcd  i]i  tin'  L.-indieean 
canon  ;  whereas  tlie  Ncsl(iii:iii>  [.iw  iilc  ImuIlh  istic 
lections  for  every  day  in  ceitaiii  selocted  weeks  in 
Lent  (called  the  •  w'eeks  of  the  mysteries')  with 
the  one  exception  of  Saturday. 

II.  Thk  Chrlstian  Year.— In  addition  to  the 
weekly  observances,  tiiere  were  annual  commemo- 


rations of  events  in  ourlLord's  life,  although  their 
development  was  slow.  Two  of  these,  Easter  and 
Pentecost,  passed  to  the  Church  from  the  Jews  ; 
while  others,  such  as  Good  Friday,  Lent,  Ascen- 
sion, Christmas,  Epiphany,  Advent,  are  of  purely 
Christian  origin. 

1.  Easter. —  (a)  The  name. — 'Pascha'  (irdo-xa) 
was  the  common  name  for  Easter  at  least  from 
the  2nd  cent,  onwards  in  Greek  and  Latin  Chris- 
tianity ;  and  it  is  of  some  importance  to  gather 
from  the  earlier  writers  the  reasons  for  its  use,  as 
they  will  show  us  the  exact  meaning  of  the  com- 
memoration. Trdirx"  is  taken  from  the  Aramaic 
Kfips  ipisha),  the  equivalent  of  Heb.  nps  (pcsak) 
'the  passover.'     Syrian  Christians,  however,  have 


usually  written   the   word   in   the   form 


^5f 


Payne  -  Smith,  Thesaurus  St/riacus,  in  Inc.)  ; 
though,  in  translating  into  Syriac  from  Greek, 
James  of  Edessa  and  others  use  the  form  |'~"^i=^ 
(as  in  the  Testament  of  our  Lord,  passim)  ;  and 
the  Lexicons  give  a  verb  -^.rrsos  'to  celebrate 
Easter.'  The  meaning  in  Syriac  literature  is 
usually  '  Easter,'  though  the  Nestorian  writers, 
like  their  descendants  to  this  day,  use  it  in  the 
sense  of  'Maundy  Thursday.'  The  older  Greek 
and  Latin  writers  commonly  derive  it  from 
Tva.cxf'-v,  '  to  sutt'er,'  and  draw  analogies  from 
etymology  between  the  paschal  lamb  and  the 
suttering  Christ.  Thus,  perhaps,  Justin  Martyr 
(Dial.  40  ;  he  is  showing  how  the  lamb  sacrificed 
as  the  passover  is  a  type  of  the  Pa.ssion) ;  and 
most  probably  Iremeus  (Ilcer.  IV.  x.  1:  'Moses 
foretold  Him  after  a  figurative  manner  by  the 
name  given  to  the  passover,  and  at  that  very 
festival  did  our  Lord  sufTer,  thus  fulfilling  the 
passover ').  And  so  perhaps  Tertullian  (adv.  Jud. 
19,  Migne,  vol.  ii.  col.  670)  :  ■  It  is  the  Lord'.'' 
passover,  that  is,  the  I'^i^sidii  uf  Christ.'  Lactan- 
tius  expressly  adopts  tin-  eiyninloLjy  (Dip.  Inst. 
iv.  26,  Migne,  vol.  i.  ceil  ."i:;i)  ;  •  i'^M-iia  nominatur 
djTo  ToC  Trdffx"")  via  pasMoiiis  liyuiii  est.'  Augu.s- 
tine,  on  the  other  hand  (Ep.  Iv.  1,  ad  Januar., 
A.D.  400)  denies  this  interpretation,  while  he  pro- 
poses a  scarcely  better  one :  '  The  word  Pascha 
itself  is  not,  as  is  commonlj'  thought,  a  Greek 
word ;  those  w  ho  are  acquainted  with  both  lan- 
guages affirm  it  to  be  a  Hebrew  word.  It  is  not 
derived,  therefore,  from  the  Passion  because  of  the 
Greek  word  Trcfffyra.,  signifying-  to  suffer,  but  it 
takes  its  n.-mie  fiom  the  transition  of  which  I  have 
spoken,  Ircui  <le:iilj  to  life;  the  meaning  of  the 
Hebrew  vend  I'aselia  being,  as  those  who  are 
acquainted  with  it  assure  us,  a  passing  over  or 
transition.  To  this  the  Lord  Himself  designed  to 
allude  when  He  said  :  "  He  tliat  believeth  in  me  is 
passed  from  death  to  life.  .  .  ."  ' 

The  question  then  arises,  What  did  these  earlier 
writers  mean  by  Pascha?  Was  it  the  com- 
memoration of  the  Passion,  or  of  the  Resurrec- 
tion ?  Irenneus  wrote  a  work,  vepl  toO  irdax"- 
(quoted  by  psendo- Justin,  Qiiatst.  et  rcsp.  ad 
Oi-thodoxos),  which  is  probably  the  letter  to  Victor 
from  which  Eusebius  gives  extracts  (HE  v.  24). 
In  this  he  speaks  of  a  festival  preceded  by  a  fast 
of  varying  duration  (see  below,  e) ;  and  he  may 
use  the  word  Trdcrxa  of  the  festival  or  of  the  festival 
and  fast  combined.  Bp.  J.  Wordsworth  (Ministry 
of  Grace,  iii.  S  U  says  that  the  Christian  irdaxa 
always  in  I  lie  lir-t  lliiee  centuries  and  often  in  the 
fourtli  iiie;iiis  I  lie  ( .'lebratiou  of  the  fast  of  Good 
Friday,  exlemleii  uu  doubt  by  vnipdeais  or  super- 
position 111  luusL  (.Uses  over  Easter  ;  and  he  adduces 


256     CALENDAE,  THE  CHRISTIAN 


CALENDAR,  THE  CHRISTIAN 


Tertullian,  adv.  Jiid.  10,  as  above  (but  this  hardly 
shows  it),  and  de  Bapt.  19  ('  Pascha  alfords  a  more 
solemn  day  for  baptism,  when  all  tlie  passion  of 
the  Lord,  in  which  we  are  baptized  [tinguimvir], 
was  completed ').  We  may  add  dc  Oral.  18,  where 
he  says  that  they  did  not  give  the  kiss  of  peace 
'die  paschae'  when  there  was  a  general  fast.  But 
in  de  Cor.  3  he  seems  to  use  the  word  of  Easter  Day ; 
he  says  that  the  Christians  did  not  kneel  '  a  die 
Pasch;B  in  Pentecosten  usque';  and  in  de  Jejini. 
14  he  speaks  of  celebrating  Pascha,  and  of  the  fifty 
ensuing  (cxindc)  days  being  spent  in  exultation, 
which  is  suitable  language  if  Pascha  means  Easter 
Day,  but  hardly  if  it  means  Good  Friday.  It  may, 
however,  in  these  passages,  mean  Easter  and  the 
preceding  fast,  and  this  would  suit  the  remark 
which  follows  in  de  Jejim.  14,  that  Saturday  was 
never  a  fast  'nisi  in  Pascha.'  Origen  (<•.  Cds. 
viii.  22)  distinguishes  irapaaKtv-^  from  -irdcxa,  and 
doubtless  means  Easter  by  the  latter.  He  men- 
tions tlie  observance  of  the  Lord's  Day,  of  the 
Preparation,  of  Pascha,  and  of  Pentecost ;  and 
cannot  here  mean  euenj  Friday  by  the  '  Prepara- 
tion,' for  then  he  would  also  have  mentioned 
Wednesda}-,  as  in  Hoin.  in  Lev.  x.  (see  above, 
L  §  2). 

One  may  conjecture  that  there  was  some  diver- 
gence in  the  first  three  centuries  both  as  to  the 
name  and  as  to  the  actual  observance  of  this  com- 
memoration. It  seems  likely  that  in  many  cases 
the  Resurrection  and  the  Passion  were  observed  on 
the  same  day.  This  must  usually  have  been  the 
case  with  the  Quartodccimans,  who  observed  the 
fourteenth  day  of  the  lunar  month  ;  but  it  was  also 
apparently  often  tlie  case  with  those  who  kept 
the  Sunday,  for,  as  we  shall  see  below,  the  fast 
observed  before  the  Sunday  was  often  only  of  one 
day's  duration,  and  did  not  always  include  the 
Friday.  Even  well  on  in  the  4th  cent,  we  find 
a  relic  of  this  in  the  7"'  v/  '//(■///  nf  ttin-  Lord,  where 
the  Friday  before  F.;i^fii'  is  n.it  iiR-iitioned  as  the 
day  of  coramemoratiim  lli>^  r,i~-iou  but  as  a  pre- 
paration for  the  fi>tival,  and  the  Passion  and 
Resurrection  are  apparently  commemorated  to- 
gether, just  as  the  Ascension  and  Pentecost  were 
often  joined  (see  below,  §  2  b).  There  is  nothing 
a  priori  incongruous  in  commemorating  and  giving 
thanks  for  the  Redemption  of  mankind  on  a  day 
of  rejoicing,  especially  when  a  severe  fast  of  a 
day  or  two  had  just  preceded.  The  probable  con- 
clusion, then,  is  that  Pascha  usually  meant,  before 
the  4th  cent.,  the  commemoration  both  of  the 
Death  and  of  the  Resurrection  of  Christ,  the  festi- 
val with  its  preceding  fast,  and  that  the  erroneous 
derivation  from  Trderxo)  favoured  a  certain  indefi- 
niteness  in  the  use  of  the  word.  This  derivation, 
it  may  be  observed,  as  well  as  the  equally 
false  Syrian  one,  probably  explains  wliy  a  name 
with  such  a  very  Jewish  association  became  so 
popular.  When,  somewhat  later,  a  distinction 
had  to  be  made  between  Good  Friday  and  Easter 
Day,  the  names  7rd<rxa  aravpibixtiiov  and  xdirxa  ava- 
aTwijiov  were  invented  (Ducange,  «.u.  'Pascha'). 

Another  use  of  the  name  Pascha  is  to  be  noted. 
In  the  Testament  of  our  Lord  (i.  28,  42,  ii.  8,  U, 
12,  18)  it  means  the  forty  days  before  Easter, 
though  of  these  forty  days  only  the  last  two 
were  fasts.  Holy  Week  is" called  'tlie  last  week 
of  Pascha.'  The  end  of  Pascha  is  to  be  after 
the  Saturday  at  midnight.  The  '  forty  days  of 
Pascha '  are  specially  mentioned.  Similarly  in 
Apoat.  Can.  69  (68)  we  find  -ritv  ayiav  Te<T<iapaKoiTTJ]v 
Tou  -iraaxa.  But  in  the  Testament,  Pascha  is  used 
absolutely  in  this  sense.  In  this  work,  however, 
we  also  read  of  '  the  feast  of  Pascha '  (i.  42),  when 
widows  (presbyteresses)  are  to  give  alms  and  batlte. 
Tlie  bathing  was  on  the  Thursday  before  Easter.\ 

'  Pascha '  was  sometimes  used  for  Holy  Week. 


Thus  in  Apost.  Const,  v.  18  we  read  :  '  Fast  in  the 
days  of  Pascha  beginning  from  the  second  till  the 
Preparation  and  the  Sabbath,  for  they  are  days  of 
sorrow,  not  of  feasting.'  And  so  perhaps  Can. 
Hipp.  §  195  tt".  (below,  d). 

Other  names  for  Easter  were :  among  the 
Latins,  'Dominica  gaudii'  (Bingham,  Ant.  XX.  v. 
5) ;  among  the  Greeks,  ij.eyd\ri  KvpiaKv  ;  whUe  the 

common  Syrian  name  was  and  is  ]ALqJ_0>  1jp» 

'  the  feast  of  the  Resurrection.' 

(b)  Early  observance  of  Easter. — The  Apostles, 
no  doubt,  continued  to  keep  the  Jewish  Passover 
( Xc  20*) ;  but  it  is  uncertain  if  the  first  Gentile 
Christians  observed  it  in  any  way,  or  whether 
they  were  content  with  the  weekly  commemo- 
ration. It  is  not  even  certain  if  the  Jewish 
Christians  kept  it  in  any  way  as  a  Christian 
festival.  Yet  the  phrases  rb  irdaxa  riP-Civ  .  .  . 
Xpiaros  and  (opTd^oip.cv  (1  Co  5"'-)  would  be  speci- 
ally appropriate  if  the  Christians  at  Corinth  were 
at  the  time  when  St.  Paul  Avrote  from  Ejihesus, 
namely,  before  Pent«cost  (1  Co  16^),  observing  an 
Easter  festival.  But  it  is  significant  that  there  is 
no  mention  of  Easter  in  the  Apostolic  Fathers  or 
in  Justin  Martyr  ;  and  its  absence  in  the  Didache 
is  specially  noteworthy,  since  that  Church  Order 
mentions  the  Lord's  Day,  the  fast  before  baptism, 
and  the  Wednesday  and  Friday  fasts.  We  can, 
however,  trace  the  observance  of  Easter  at  Rome 
back  to  the  time  of  Pope  Xystus,  c.  120  A.D.,  for 
Irenteus  tells  us  [ap.  Eusebius,  HE  v.  24)  that 
Xystus  and  his  immediate  successors,  while  not 
observing  the  Quartodeciman  practice  themselves, 
yet  were  at  peace  with  those  who  did ;  and  from 
what  follows  it  is  clear  that  Irenteus  means  that 


still  further;  for  Polycarp,  as  Irenoeus  says  (ib.), 
traced  his  custom  of  keeping  Easter  to  St.  John. 
The  conclusion  may  probably  be,  either  that 
Easter  was  not  universally  observed  as  an  annual 
commemoration  early  in  the  2nd  cent.,  or,  more 
probably,  that  it  had  not  then  the  great  import- 
ance which  it  acquired  later  in  the  century,  from 
the  disputes  as  to  tlie  day  when  it  should  be  kept. 

(c)  T/c  "';/''  .  .rii  Controversy.  —  A  brief 
summary  •  :\  i  '.  ijuestion  is  necessary  for 
thepuri"i  ■  I  i';  ;iunary;  for  more  detailed 
accounts  i.i  it,  i  -  i.  r-  n'  !•  may  be  made  to  the  works 
mentioned  at  the  end  of  this  article.  The  con- 
troversy arose  in  the  2ud  cent,  and  came  to  a 
head  in  the  last  decade  of  it ;  it  was  concerned 


with  the  question  whether  the  Paschal 
ration  should  follow  the  day  of  the  week  or  the 
day  of  the  lunar  month  on  which  the  events 
commemorated  originally  occurred.  Tliose  who 
upheld  the  former  practice  no  doubt  laid  chief 
stress  on  the  Resurrection  of  our  Lord,  since  they 
fixed  on  Sunday  for  their  commemoration ;  while 
the  latter,  who  were  called  Quartodecimans  or 
Teffo-apfo-KaiSfitaTiTac  (Socrates,  HE  v.  22,  Sozomen, 
HE  vii.  19),  probably  at  first  emphasized  our  Lord's 
death,  as  they  adhered  to  14th  Nisan,  the  day  on 
which  He  died,  or  was  thought  by  them  to  have 
died  ;  whereas,  on  no  calculation  did  He  rise  on 
that  day.  "The  theory  has,  indeed,  been  advanced 
by  the  Tubingen  school  that  the  Quartodecimans 
commemorated  the  Last  Supper  rather  than  the  Pas- 
sion or  Resurrection.  According  to  the  Synoptists, 
the  Last  Supper  appears  to  have  taken  place  on  the 
evening  of  14th  Nisan,  and  the  Crucifixion  to  have 
been  on  the  loth ;  while,  according  to  the  Fourth 
Gospel,  the  Death  of  our  Lord  would  appear  to 
have  been  at  the  time  of  the  killing  of  the 
Paschal  lambs,  and  the  Last  Supper  therefore  to 
have  taken  place  at  the  end  of  13th  Nisan.     We 


CALENDAR,  THE  CHRISTIAN 


CALENDAR,  THE  CHRISTIAN     257 


are  not  here  concerned  witli  the  seeming  contra- 
diction between  the  Gospels  except  in  so  far  as 
the  Tiibingen  school  deduced  from  the  known 
facts  that  the  Quartodecimans  could  not  have 
accepted  the  Fourth  Gospel,  because  their  prac- 
tice rather  agreed  with  the  Synoptists.  Western 
readers  need,  however,  to  be  reminded  that  in 
the  ordinary  Eastern  reckoning,  at  any  rate  the 
ecclesiastical  reckoning,  then  as  now,  the  Last 
Supper  and  the  Crucifixion  fell  on  the  same  day  ; 
for  the  day  began  at  sunset.  Thus,  if  the  Quarto- 
I  decimans  observed  Uth  Nisan,  it  must  have  been 

because  they  thought  that  our  Lord  both  cele- 
brated the  Last  Supper  and  also  died  on  that  day. 
It  is  a  pure  assumption  that  their  Paschal  com- 
memoration began  at  the  moment  when  the  lambs 
were  killed.  In  that  case  they  would  have  been 
rather  Quintodecimans.  It  is  generally  agreed 
that  the  lambs  were  killed,  at  any  rate  in  ancient 
Jewish  times,  in  the  afternoon  of  14th  Nisan, 
i.e.  when  that  day  was  drawing  to  a  close.  The 
inference,  then,  is  that  the  Quartodecimans  made 
their  Paschal  commemoration  coincide  with  the 
day  which  began  at  the  Last  Supper  and  ended 
soon  after  our  Lord's  death,  and  that  they  thought 
that  that  occurred  at  the  time  of  the  killing  of  the 
lambs.  The  deduction  is  the  exact  opposite  of 
that  drawn  by  the  Tubingen  school,  and  is  that 
the  Quartodecimans  followed  the  Fourth  Gospel 
(as  they,  perhaps  rightly,  interpreted  it)  rather 
than  the  Synoptists.  The  supposition  that  they 
commemorated  the  Last  Supper  in  particular  has, 
moreover,  no  basis  of  fact.  And  the  view  given 
above  is  further  supported  by  the  fact  that  in 
the  time  of  Melito  (A.D.  170)  the  Quartodecimans 
clearly  accepted  the  Fourth  Gospel.  Melito,  in 
one  of  his  fragments,  speaks  of  our  Lord's  three 
years'  ministry,  which  he  could  never  have  gathered 
from  the  Synoptists  ('  de  Incarn.  Christi,'  in  Ilouth's 
Reliquim  sacrce,  vol.  i.). 

It  has  been  thought  by  some  (as  by  Hefele)  that 
the  Quartodecimans  kept  their  commemoration  of 
the  Resurrection  on  the  third  day  after  Uth  Nisan, 
i.e.  on  16th  Nisan,  or  even  on  the  Sunday  after. 
But  this  is  vei-y  improbable.  If  it  were  so,  why 
should  they  have  broken  oft"  their  fast  on  Uth 
Nisan  ?  It  is  much  more  likely  that  they  com- 
memorated the  Passion  and  the  Resurrection 
together. 

The  history  of  the  controversy  is  given  by 
Eusebius  {HE  v.  23,  24),  who  takes  up  the  ques- 
tion at  its  third  and  most  acute  stage,  namely, 
at  the  dispute  between  Victor  and  Polycrates  at 
the  very  end  of  the  2nd  century.  He  tells  us  that 
synods  held  in  that  century  unanimously  decided 
that  'the  mystery  of  the  resurrection  of  the 
Lord  should  be  celebrated  on  no  other  but  the 
Lord's  day,  and  that  we  should  observe  the  close 
of  the  paschal  fast  on  this  day  only.'  These 
synods  were  held  in  Palestine,  Rome  (under 
Victor),  Pontus,  Gaul  (under  Irenieus),  and 
Osrhoene  in  N.-W.  Mesopotamia.  Perhaps  the 
last-named  synod  was  held  at  the  famous  Edessa 
or  Ur-hai,  which  is  in  that  district.  There  were 
also  personal  (i.e.  not  synodical)  letters  of  Bacchy- 
lus,  bishop  of  Corinth,  and  many  others,  all  of  whom 
concurred  in  the  decision  mentioned  above.  On 
the  other  side  'Asia'  {i.e.  probably  the  Roman 
province,  though  the  Quartodeciman  practice  ex- 
tended  to  other  provinces  also— even  to  Antiocli), 
led  by  Polycrates,  bishop  of  Ephesus,  maintained 
that  the  paschal  commemoration  should  take  plaie 
ou  14th  Nisan,  on  whatever  day  of  tlie  week  it 
should  fall.  Polycrates,  who  is  very  Iiiglily  praised 
by  St.  Jerome  (de  Viris  Illustr.  45)  and  by  im- 
jljHcation  by  Eusebius,  who  preserves  his  letter  (/■<;. ), 
ij leges  the  example  of  'Philip,  one  of  tlie  twelve 
Ajpostles,   who  fell  asleep  in  Hierapolis,  and  his 

VOL.  I.  — 17 


two  aged  \'irgin  daughters,  and  another  daughter 
who  lived  in  the  Holy  Spirit  and  now  rests  at 
Ephesus ' ;  also  of  John  '  who  was  both  a  witness 
and  a  teacher,  who  reclined  upon  the  bosom  of 
the  Lord,  and  being  a  priest  wore  the  [sacerdotal] 
plate  (76  iriToKov).  He  fell  asleep  at  Ephesus.' 
He  also  adduces  Polycarp,  Melito,  the  martyr 
Sagaris,  and  others,  who  all  agreed  with  his 
practice. 

Victor  attempted  to  excommunicate  all  '  Asia ' ; 
airorinveiv  ciis  irepoSo^ovtras  .  .  .  weiparai  are  Euse- 
bius' exact  words.  But  Socrates  (HE  v.  22)  de- 
clares that  he  did  actually  excommunicate  them. 
He  jjrobably  issued  a  letter  of  excommunication, 
but  it  was  not  ellective.  For  Eusebius  goes  on 
to  say  that  Iren;eus,  bishop  of  'Gaul,' intervened 
in  the  dispute  in  the  interests  of  peace,  and  he 
who  '  was  truly  well  named  became  a  peacemaker 
in  the  matter.'  Part  of  Irenjuus'  letter  is  pre- 
served by  Eusebius,  and  it  is  specially  interesting 
as  mentioning  that  'the  presbyters  before  Sotcr 
who  presided  over  the  Church  which  thou  [Victor] 
now  rulest,  Anicetus  and  Pius  and  Hyginus  and 
Telesphorus  and  Xystus,  neither  themselves  ob- 
served [the  fourteenth  day]  nor  permitted  those 
after  them  to  do  so  ;  and  yet'  they  were  at  peace 
with  those  who  did  observe  it ;  and  also  that  when 
Polycarp  went  to  Rome  in  the  time  of  Anicetus 
(bishop  of  Rome),  the  two  bishops  'disagreeil  a 
little  about  certain  other  things,'  but  immediately 
made  peace,  '  not  caring  to  quarrel  over  this 
matter ' ;  nor  did  it  interfere  witii  their  remaining 
in  communion  with  one  another,  or  with  Anicetus 
allowing  Polycarp  to  celebrate  the  Eucharist  in 
his  church  at  Rome,  '  manifestly  as  a  mark  of 
respect'  (eV  rrj  iKuX-rjaif  Trapfxiipijcrti/  6  '.Vi/kT/Tos  ttji' 
€i'xa/jL(TTiaj/  TiO  noXvKdpTTip  Kar  ivTpoTTr)v  S-qXofdTt).  It 
has  been  suggested  that  these  words  mean  only 
that  the  two  bishops  communicated  together;  but 
in  that  case  they  are  mere  repetitions  of  what  had 
just  been  said,  and  there  would  be  no  special  mark 
of  respect. 

Eusebius  here  does  not  mention  the  intervening 
dispute  in  which  Melito,  bishop  of  Sardis,  figures. 
But  in  iv.  26  he  speaks  of  him,  and  from  the 
account  we  gather  that  he  was  a  prolific  writer ; 
a  list  of  his  books  is  given.  In  the  quotation  from 
Polycrates  in  v.  24  we  find  the  name  of  Melito 
appearing  as  a  Quartodeciman,  but  it  is  not  said 
that  he  was  a  ^vriter.  From  the  earlier  passage 
we  learn  that  Iw.  wiDt';  a  book  trepl  roO  7rd<rxa, 
from  which  a  (lUdhd  inn  i,  :^i\(u;  '  ^Yllile  Servilius 
[Rulinus  gives  'Sci-ius'J  Taulus  was  proconsul  of 
Asia,  at  the  time  \\  litn  .Safaris  suft'ered  martyr- 
dom, there  arose  in  Laodicca  [in  Phrygia]  a  great 
strife  concerning  Pascha,  which  fell  according  to 
rule  in  those  days  (i/nre<r6vTm  Kara.  Kaipdv  4v  iKdvait 
rah  ijfiipais),  and  these  thin^js  wcro  written  [sc.  be- 
cause of  the  dispute].'  Sn  >!(■(  lillrit  ['Eusebius' 
in  Nicejia  and  Fost-Nin  ii.  /',,^/,,,n|  renders  these 
words,  thougli  it  is  not  ulninus  «h:iL  they  mean; 
for  when  did  not  Pascha  fall  according  to  rule  ? 
For  other  explanations  see  Salmon  in  Smith- Wace, 
Diet,  of  Chr.  Biog.  s.v.  '  Melito.'  Eusebius  goes 
on  to  say  that  Clement  of  Alexandria  refers  to 
Melito's  work,  and  himself  wrote  one  with  the 
same  title,  '  on  occasion '  {i^  ahlas)  of  Melito's 
treatise,  i.e.,  probably,  in  opposition  to  it,  thougli 
Hefele  thinks  that  Clement's  book  was  meant  to 
suppkmn,/  >r..lit.,s. 

Thar,i^,/i>i/  (_'/,rf  //(■-7'iiicutioii^lli:i(  Apolinarius, 
bishop  cjf  Hicraiioli^,  (ji  whom  Sri,i|nciii,  bishop  of 
Antiocli  (.'.  Lini)  a.d.),  is  tlio  lir-l.  (o  sjifak— but  he 
was  then  dead — wrote  a  book  repi  toO  irdaxo;  and 
preserves  two  fragments  of  it.  It  is  disputed 
whether  Apolinarius  was  a  Quartodeciman.  If 
so,  he  was  not  an  extreme  partisan ;  he  certainly 
wrote  before  the  discussion  became  acute,  as  in 


258     CALENDAR,  THE  CHRISTIAN 


CALENDAR,  THE  CHRISTIAN 


the  time  of  Polyerates.  He  lield  (the  Paschal 
Chronicle  states)  that  our  Lord,  being  the  true 
Paschal  Lamb,  was  slain  on  the  day  of  the  Pass- 
over feast.  Some  have  asserted  that  there  were 
two  parties  of  Quartodecimans,  the  one  Judaizing 
and  the  other  not.  But  it  is  perhaps  unnecessary 
to  divide  them,  with  Hefele,  into  'Ebionites'  and 
'  Johanneans.'  Eusebius  (iv.  27)  mentions  Apolin- 
arius'  WTitings,  but  not  the  work  in  question. 

There  were  thus  three  stages  in  the  controversy  : 
(1)  the  discussion  between  Polycarp  and  Anicetus, 
c.  150  A.D.,  when  they  agreed  to  difi'er,  and  parted 
amicably ;  (2)  the  dispute  at  Laodicea  about 
A.D.  170 ;  (3)  the  bitter  contest  between  Victor 
and  Polj'crates  about  A.D.  190. 

The  other  Churches,  as  a  rule, — those  outside 
'  Asia,' — agreed  with  Victor  in  his  practice,  but 
disapproved  of  his  excommunicating  the  Quarto- 
decimans. The  Roman  Pascha  gradually  pre- 
vailed, and  was  affirmed  by  the  Council  of  Nicsea 
in  325,  in  whose  decision  the  bishop  of  'Asia' 
acquiesced.  Thenceforward  the  Quartodeciman 
practice  was  confined  to  a  few  communities  which 
were  considered  heretical.  It  lasted  till  the  5th 
cent.,  and  Sozonien  (HE  vii.  19)  speaks  of  it  as 
stUl  going  on  in  his  day,  c.  443  A.D. 

(d)  Determination  of  Easter:  Paschal  cycles. — 
The  defeat  of  the  Quartodecimans  did  not  ensure 
that  all  should  keep  Easter  on  the  same  day,  for 
different  calculations  ■were  in  use  for  determining 
the  paschal  full  moon.  This  had  long  been  the 
case.  For  a  time  the  Christians  were  dependent 
on  the  Jews  for  the  date  of  their  festival.  The 
Hippolytean  Canons  (§  195,  ed.  Achelis)  say  that 
the  week  when  the  Jews  celebrate  Pascha  is  to  be 
observed  by  all  with  the  utmost  zeal  as  a  fast. 
And  the  older  Didascalia,  according  to  Codex 
Sangermanensis  (Gibson's  Didasc.  1903,  p.  97), 
bids  the  Christians  'keep  j'our  fast  with  all  care, 
but  commence  when  your  brethren  of  the  Nation 
keep  Pascha' ;  the  Verona  Fragments  are  wanting 
here.  And  in  the  4th  cent.  pseudo-Pionius,  in 
his  Life  of  Polycarp  (§2;  for  the  date  see  Light- 
foot's  Ignatius,  iii.  429),  says  that  'the  Apostle 
[Paul]  plainly  teaches  that  we  ought  neither  to 
keep  it  outside  the  season  of  unleavened  bread,  as 
the  heretics  do,  especially  the  Phrygians,  nor  yet, 
on  the  other  hand,  of  necessity  on  the  fourteenth 
day ;  for  he  said  nothing  about  tlie  fourteenth 
day,  but  named  the  days  of  unleavened  bread, 
the  Passover,  and  the  Pentecost,  thus  ratifying 
the  Gospel.' 

On  the  other  hand,  the  Apostolic  Consiit utians 
(v.  17)  expressly  say:  'Be  no  longer  careful  to 
keep  the  feast  with  the  Jews,  for  we  have  now 
no  communion  with  them ' ;  and  the  Jews  are 
said  to  have  erred  in  their  calculations.  [Tlie 
passage  inserted  before  this  in  Dr.  Donaldson's 
translation  in  the  Ante-Nicene  Christian  Library, 
taken  from  Epiphanius,  belongs  to  the  older 
Didascalia,  and  is  not  part  of  the  Apostolic  Con- 
stitutions at  all]. 

And  long  before  this  Hippolytus  had  made  an 
elaborate  calculation,  so  that  it  might  be  no  longer 
neces-sary  for  the  Christians  to  follow  the  Jews, 
who  had  "one  wrong  in  their  computation  through 
lax  calculations  of  the  lunar  year.  Hippolytus 
follows  the  system  adopted  by  the  Greek  astro- 
nomers to  harmonize  the  lunar  and  solar  years. 
He  makes  the  lunar  year  to  be  354  days  of  twelve 
months,  which  alternately  have  30  and  29  days. 
To  supply  the  difference  of  llj  days  between  tlie 
lunar  and  solar  years,  he  interpolates  three  months 
of  30  days  each  in  every  eight  years  (8  x  11^  =  90). 
He  also  puts  two  eight-year  periods  together,  for 
convenience  of  determining  the  day  of  the  week 


lunar  year  is  longer  by  nearly  nine  hours  than 
Hippolytus  reckoned  it,  and  this  error  made  the 
cycle  very  soon  to  be  obviously  wrong.  Calcu- 
lating backwards  on  this  cycle,  he  fixed  on  Friday 
25th  March  A.D.  29  as  the  day  of  the  Crucifixion, 
and  this  computation,  though  quite  erroneous,  has 
ever  since  been  the  basis  of  a  large  part  of  the 
Church  Calendar  (see  on  Christmas  below,  §  3). 
The  same  date,  March  25,  is  also  found  in  the 


Acts  of  Pilate,  which  probably  was  written  after 

'"       ilytus,  i     '  .,,.... 

(Hcer.  1.  1,  contra  Quartodecimanos,  lib.  ii.  torn.  1) 


Hippol; 


ndebted  to  him.     Epiphanius 


kept  Pascha  on  March  25.  These  Christians,  ■ 
thus  anticipated  a  reform  much  desired  in  modern 
times,  were  not  strictly  Quartodecimans,  for  they 
abandoned  14th  Nisan,  although  they  observea 
Pascha  on  any  day  of  the  week,  and  so  were 
separated  from  the  Catholics.  A  slight  modifica- 
tion on  Hippolytus'  system  was  made  (c.  243)  by 
pseudo-Cyprian  in  his  de  Pascha  Computus  (see 
Dr.  Salmon's  article,  '  Chronicon  Cyprianicum,'  in 
Smith-Wace,  Diet,  of  Chr.  Biography). 

The  Alexandrian  Church  is  thought  by  Dr.  Sal- 
mon to  have  used  the  Metonic  cycle  of  nineteen 
years,  which,  somewhat  modified,  is  still  in  use. 
Anyhow,  the  Alexandrians  and  Romans  frequently 
kept  Easter  on  different  days.  Another  source  of 
error  was  the  determining  of  the  vernal  equinox, 
which  at  Rome  in  the  3rd  cent,  was  thought  to 
fall  on  18th  March,  at  Alexandria  from  c.  277  A.D 
onwards  on  19th  ^larch  (the  calculation  was  made 
by  Anatolius  of  Laodicea).  The  date  was  changed 
to  21st  March  (as  it  is  now)  in  the  reign  of  Dio- 
cletian. 

The  later  disputes  in  Britain  between  the  Colum- 
ban  and  Augustinian  missionaries  were  due  to  the 


as  well  as  the  day  of  the  year,  and  he  thus  makes 
a  cjcle  of  16  years.     But,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  the 


former  using  a  cycle  which  had  been  employed  at 
Rome  itself  about  A.D.  300,  but  had  long  been 
given  up.  The  Columban  missionaries  were  in  no 
real  sense  Quartodecimans,  though  they  professed 
to  follow  St.  John. 

(e)  The  fast  before  Easter  — In  the  ancient  litera- 
ture we  find  two  aspects  of  this  fast.  In  the  first 
it  is  a  preparation,  whether  for  the  paschal  com- 
memoration itself  or  for  baptism,  whether  (more- 
over) the  former  emphasized  the  Death  or  the 
Resurrection  of  our  Lord.  In  the  second  it  is 
designed  to  mark  the  sadness  of  Christians  in 
the  days  when  '  the  Bridegroom  is  taken  away  '— 
namely,  the  days  when  our  Lord's  body  was  in  the 
tomb.  In  this  case  it  nmst  be  looked  upon  as  a 
Good  Friday  fast,  extended  by  '  superposition  '  to 
the  Saturday.  As  the  normal  time  fur  baptism 
was  Easter,  usually  early  on  Easter  morning,— a 
fact  which  the  discovery  of  so  many  Church  Orders 
has  lately  made  abundantly  clear,— it  follows  that 
the  resultant  fast  would  be  the  same,  whichever 
account  of  its  origin  is  the  more  primitive. 

For  the  first  aspect  we  have  the  Didache.  This 
Church  Order,  as  has  been  said,  does  not  mention 
Easter.  But  it  gives  what  seems  to  be  an  ex- 
haustive list  of  the  fasts  known  to  the  writer  at 
the  beginning  of  the  2nd  cent.,  and  says  (§  7)  : 
'  Before  the  baptism  let  him  that  baptizeth  and 
him  that  is  baptized  fast,  and  any  others  also  who 
are  able  ;  and  tliou  shalt  order  him  that  is  baptized 
to  fast  a  day  or  two  before.'  It  then  prescribes  the 
Wednesday  and  Friday  firsts.  We  thus  have  the 
curious  result  that  a  fast  of  one  or  two  daj's  is 
mentioned  earlier  than  the  festival  which  at  that 
time,  or  at  any  rate  soon  after,  followed  it  ;  and 
the  fast  is  connected  not  with  the  death  of  our 
Lord,  but  with  baptism.  It  i-;  significant  that  in 
the  Didache  not  only  the  baiitized  and  the  baj- 
tizer  fast,  but  alsu  '  any  others  who  are  able.' 
And  the  silence  of  the'  Apostolic  Fathers  and 
Justin  Martyr  about  Easter  makes  it  not  impo^ 


CALENDAR,  THE  CHRISTIAN 


CALENDAR,  THE  CHRISTIAN     259 


fast  was  emphasized  more  than  the  paschal  festival 
Irenaeus  also  speaks  of  the  fast  before  Easter  Sun 
day  in  a  way  which  seems  to  exclude  the  idea  of  a 
Good  Friday  fast  extended  to  Saturday.  His  words 
are  thus  given  by  Eusebius  (HE  v.  24) :  '  Some 
think  that  they  ought  to  fast  for  one  day,  others 
for  two  days,  others  even  for  several,  while  others 
reckon  forty  hours  both  of  day  and  night  to  their 
day.  And  this  variety  in  its  observance  has  not 
originated  in  our  time  but  long  before,  in  that  of 
our  ancestors'  (.  .  .  oi  Si  xai  irXeidvas'  oi  5^  Tfcro-apd- 
KOfTa  (ipas  r^/xepivds  t(  Kai  vvKTcpivas  avixy.(Tpov(n  TT]y 
Tl)jJpav  avTuv  k.t.\.).  Some  have  put  a  stop  after 
Teaaapinovra  (among  others  Rufinus,  who  trans- 
lated Irenceus  into  Latin),  making  the  writer  say 
that  some  fasted  forty  days.  But  a  forty  days' 
fast,  as  we  shall  see,  was  an  invention  of  the  4th 
cent.,  and  Eufinus  is  interpreting  Irenaeus  by 
the  practice  of  his  own  day.  Moreover,  this 
punctuation  makes  no  sense  of  the  words  that 
follow,  for  no  one  can  suppose  that  there  was  an 
absolute  fast,  night  and  day,  for  forty  days,  and, 
if  not,  the  reference  to  '  night  and  day '  has  no 
point.  Irenteus  seems  clearly  to  mean  that  the 
fast  lasted,  variously,  for  one  day,  for  two  days, 
for  several  days,  while  some  made  a  continuous 
fast  of  forty  hours.  The  words,  especially  '  several 
days,'  seem  definitely  to  determine  his  point  of 
view,  that  the  fast  was  a  preparation  for  tne  festi- 
val rather  than  an  extension  of  Good  Friday.  The 
Church  Orders  definitely  speak  in  the  same  sense. 
Baptism  is  described  as  taking  place  before  the 
Easter  Eucharist,  and  the  directions  for  the  paschal 
fast  and  solemnities  generally  follow  immediately 
after  the  directions  for  baptism.  The  arrange- 
ment suggests  that  in  the  mind  of  the  author  of 
the  lost  ancestor  of  so  many  of  these  manuals, — 
for  most  of  them  are  of  one  family  and  follow  the 
same  outline,— the  preparation  for  baptism  was  the 
original  object  of  the  Lenten  fast.  The  Canons  of 
Hippolytits  (§§  150-152  ;  but  these  are  bracketed 
by  Achelis  as  probable  interpolations)  speak  of  a 
baptismal  fast  of  the  newly  baptized,  and  those 
who  fast  with  them.  In  §  106  a  fast  of  the  candi- 
dates on  the  Fridays  is  mentioned  ;  on  the  Satur- 
day they  are  exorcized  (§  108)  and  keep  vigil  all 
night,  and  are  baptized  at  cock-crow  (§  112).  The 
Egyptian  Church  Order  (Sahidic  Eccles.  Canons, 
§  45)  prescribes  a  Good  Friday  fast.  The  Verona 
Latin  Fragments  are  wanting  in  the  parallel  pas- 
sage, but  make  the  fast  a  two  days'  one  in  a  later 
chapter  (Hauler,  p.  116).  The  Testament  of  our 
Lord  (ii.  6)  says  definitely  :  '  Let  them  fast  both 
on  the  Friday  and  on  the  Saturday '  ;  and  this  is  not 
improbably  also  the  meaning  of  both  tlie  Hippoly- 
tean  Canons  and  the  Egyptian  Church  Order.  The 
latter,  at  least,  in  a  later  section  (§  55)  speaks  of 
the  fast  as  a  two  days'  one.  Now  the  Egyptian 
Church  Order  and  the  Verona  Fragments  say  that 
if  a  sick  person  cannot  fast  on  the  two  days,  he 
is  to  fast  on  the  Saturday/.  The  Testament  of 
our  Lord  (ii.  20)  implies  the  same  thing.  But  this 
puts  the  idea  of  a  Good  Friday  fast  extended  over 
the  Saturday  out  of  the  question.  Even  the  Apos- 
tolic Constitutions,  which  exhibit  a  later  stage  and 
a  longer  fast,  speak  of  the  two  days'  absolute  fast, 
and  say  that  if  any  one  cannot  fast  on  tlie  two 
days  he  is  at  least  to  observe  the  Saturday  (v.  18). 
It  is  a  characteristic  of  this  last  named  Church 
Order  to  retain  ancient  features  even  wlien  some- 
what inconsistent  with  its  own  later  point  of  view. 
The  other  aspect,  namely,  of  a  Good  Friday  fast 
extended,  is  found  in  TertuUian.  He  speaks  of 
the  '  Psychics,'  —  i.e.  the  Church  at  large,  from 
w  hich  he  had  now  separated,— thinking  that  those 
diays  were  definitely  appointed  for  fasts  in  which 
the  Bridegroom  was  taken  away.     The  same  lan- 


guage is  found  in  the  chapter  of  Apost.  Const,  just 
quoted,  which  thus  combines  the  two  ideas.  It  may 
not  improbably  be  gathered  from  the  evidence  that 
the  former  point  of  view  is  the  original  one,  and 
that  the  Lenten  fast  originated  in  tlie  preparation 
for  baptism,  and  that  the  second  point  of  view  was 
an  afterthought. 

The  length  of  the  fast  was  originally,  as  we 
liave  seen,  one  day,  or  two  days,  or  forty  hours. 
But  it  was  an  absolute  fast.  Another  custom 
grew  up  in  some  countries  in  the  3rd  cent,  of  ob- 
serving the  whole  week  before  Easter,  not  as  an 
absolute  fast,  but  as  a  time  of  severe  abstinence 
from  food.  It  was  called  '  the  week  of  xerophagy ' 
(for  the  name  cf.  TertuUian,  de  Jejun.  2,  9).  This 
is  mentioned  in  the  Hippolytean  Canons  (§  197), 
which  allow  bread  and  salt  and  water  only,  and 
by  Dionysius  of  Alexandria  in  his  Epistle  to 
Basilides  (can.  1).  He  says  that  'all  do  not  carry 
out  the  six  days  of  fasting  either  equally  or  alike ; 
but  some  pass  even  all  tlie  days  as  a  fast,  remain- 
ing without  food  through  the  whole  ;  while  others 
take  but  two,  and  others  three,  and  others  four, 
and  others  not  even  one.'  It  is  possible,  as  many 
think,  that  Dionysius  is  the  author  of  the  Hippoly- 
tean Canons,  and  that  they  represent  Alexandrian 
usage,  not  Roman.  The  Montanists  observed  a 
two  weeks'  fast,  a  custom  which  they  kept  up  till 
the  5th  cent.,  when,  as  Sozomen  tells  us  (HE  vii.  19), 
tliey  were  distinguished  by  fasting  less  than  their 
neighbours  ;  formerly  they  had  fasted  longer,  when 
Holy  Week  had  been  the  maximum  (cf.  TertuUian, 
de  Jejun.  15,  when  he  says  that  the  Montanists 
offered  to  God  two  weeks  of  xerophagies  in  the 
year,  Saturday  and  Sunday  being  excepted). 
Epiphanius  says  that  the  Catholic  Church  ob- 
served a  whole  week,  as  opposed  to  the  Quarto- 
decimans,  who  observed  only  one  day  (Hair.  1.  3, 
lib.  ii.  tom.  1). 

Fasting  for  forty  days  was  unknown  till  the  4th  century.  To 
maintain  this  proposition  we  must,  with  Achelis,  eliminate  '  et 
quadraginta  'if  rom  Can.  Hippol.  154  (the  canons  having  obviously 
suflfered  interpolations),  unless  these  words  could  refer  to  the 
'  forty  hours' '  absolute  fast  mentioned  by  Irensus  ;  and  simi- 
larly  we  must,  with  almost  all  scholars,  reject  the  words  in 
Origen'a  tenth  Hmniln  on  Leviticus  :  '  Habemus  enini  quadra- 
gesimaj  dies  jejuniis  consecratos,'  which  come 
speaks  of  the  Wednesday  and  Friday  fasts, 
homily  in  Rufinus'  translation  only,  and  Rufinus  was  notori- 
ously lax  in  interpolating  and  altering  Origen's  words.    These 


"belo 


:  the 


forty  days' 


to  fasting.  Duchesne  seems  to  have  overlooked  this  point, 
which  adds  to  his  argument  (prigines,  viii.  §  4).  In  the  Testa- 
nnent  of  our  Lord  (ii.  8)  the  '  forty  days  of  Pascha "  are  spoken  of 
as  a  time  of  vigil  and  prayer,  specially  used  for  the  preparation 
of  catechumens  for  baptism,  but  it  is  not  a  fast.  On  the  other 
hand,  in  the  Apostolic  Canons  (69  or  68),  c.  400  A.D.,  we  r«ad  of 
njn  kyioiv  TurffxpnttuirTr.v  Ttu  vuirx*  as  a  compujsory  fast.  This 
is  one  of  the  indications  of  a  comparatively  early  date  for  the 
Testament.  Duchesne  (I.e.)  has  traced  in  Athanasius'  '  Festal 
Letters '  the  growth  of  the  fast.  At  first  we  read  of  the  time  of 
Lent  and  of  the  week  of  the  fast,  but  later  on  of  the  fast  of 
Lent  and  the  Holy  Week  of  Pascha. 

In  the  Edessene  Canons  (can.  7  ;  see  '  Syriac  Documents  '  in 
the  Ante-A'icene  Christ.  Libr.  p.  39)  a  forty  days'  fast  is  pre- 
scribed ;  *  and  then  celebrate  the  day  of  the  Passion  and  the 
day  of  the  Resurrection  :  because  our  Lord  .  .  .  fasted  forty 
days,  and  likewise  Moses  and  EUjah.'  .  .  .  Can  this  " 
of  the  observance  of  the  Passion  and  the  Resurrection  < 
same  day  ? 

In  Apost.  Const,  t.  13  the  forty  days  are  exclusive  of  Holy 
Week,  and  so  in  pseudo  -  Ignatius  (Phitipp.  13),  and  in  St. 
Chrysostom  (Bom.  30  in  Gen.  §  1).  In  the  Testament  o/our 
Lord  they  include  Holy  Week. 

Socrates  (UE  v.  22)  says  that  the  fasts  before  Easter  differed 
in  his  day.  At  Rome  they  fasted  for  three  continuous  {truvr.fj.- 
fj.i>ci!)  weeks,  save  on  Saturday  and  Sunday  ;  in  Illyricum  and 
Greece  and  Alexandria  for  six  weeks,  which  they  called  rttrtrctfiu- 
xtiTT-i  ;  others,  beginning  their  fast  seven  weeks  before  Easter, 
fasted  three  periods  of  five  days  only,  but  still  called  it  Tirrtpx- 
KoiTTYi.  A  difficulty  is  seen  in  this  passage  because  Socrates  had 
fast  at  Rome.  Duchesne 
Socrates'as  far  as  the  word  '  continuous  ' 
iposes  that  the  three  weeks  were  the  first, 
fourth,  and  sixth  weeks  of  Lent.    He  justly  remarks  that  the 


be  a  relic 


260     CALENDAR,  THE  CHRISTIAN 


CALENDAR,  THE  CHRISTIAN 


divergence  of  fasting,  while  the  same  m 
kept,  points  to  the  fact  that  the  '  forty  days  *  were  introduced 
for  another  purpose  than  that  of  fasting.  In  fact,  the  preva- 
lence of  forty  days  is  due  largely  to  the  fact  that  catechumens 
were  under  instruction  for  that  tinie.  The  catechumenate  was 
indeed  often  longer,  though  St.  Jerome  (Ep.  61)  says  that  in 
his  time  forty  days  was  the  usual  period.  We  find  two  years  ai 
Elvira,  three  years  in  the  Kguptian  Church  Order  and  the 
Testament  o/ot/r  iorrf,  though  a  good  deal  of  discretion  was 
allowed.  But  in  any  case,  at  the  beginning  of  the  forty  days 
the  selected  candidates  for  baptism  (competentes)  were  put 
■  through  special  instruction,  with  prayers. 
length  in  the 


described  ; 


benedictions,  and  exorcisms, 
Church  Orders. 

(/)  Palm  Sunday  appears  for  the  first  time  in 
the  Pilgrimage  of  '  Silfia.'  Formerly  we  had  only 
known  of  it  as  "being  kept  at  the  end  of  the  5th 
cent.,  a  hundred  years  later;  it  is  mentioned  in 
the  life  of  Euthyraius  (t  472).  The  appearance  of 
the  festival  at  Jerusalem  is  significant.  It  was 
doubtless  due  to  the  desire  to  commemorate  our 
Lord's  entry  into  Jerusalem  on  the  spot  where  it 
happened.  'Sih-ia'  says:  'On  this  day,  at  the 
seventh  hour  (1  p.m.)  all  go  to  the  church  on  the 
Mount  of  Olives,  where  service  is  held ;  and  at 
5  p.m.  they  read  the  Gospel  story  of  the  fevents  of 
the  day,  and  all  proceed  on  foot  to  Jerusalem,  the 
people  crying.  Blessed  is  he  who  cometh  in  the 
name  of  the  Lord ;  some  bearing  palm  branches, 
some  olives ;  and  so  the  bishop,  after  the  type  of 
our  Lord,  is  conducted  to  the  Holy  City  very 
slowly.'  The  palms  and  olives  are  an  instructive 
comment  on  the  Gospel  account. 

(g)  Mamidy  Thursday  is  not  in  early  times  men- 
tioned as  being  observed  in  commemoration  of  tlie 
Last  Supper.  Duchesne  [Orig.  viii.  §  3)  seems  to 
think  that  it  was  so  observed  at  Rome  at  least. 
in  the  primitive  ages,  but  there  is  no  evidence  for 
it.  The  earliest  authority  for  an  Eucharist  on  this 
day  is  the  Testament  of  our  Lord  (c.  350?),  which 
in  a  very  difficult  and  apparently  corrupt  passage 
prescribes  it  (ii.  11);  probably,  as  a  comparison 
uf  the  Copto-Arabic  tr.  of  the  work  -with  James 
of  Edessa's  Syriac  shows,  in  the  evening  (see 
Cooper-Maclean's  note,  p.  226).  On  this  day  also 
the  deacon  offered  'a  lamp  in  the  temple'  (ib.). 
'  Silvia,'  at  the  end  of  the  same  century,  describes 
the  Eucharist  in  the  church  called  '  The  Martyrium ' 
or  Golgotha,  in  the  afternoon ;  it  was  o\er  by 
4  p.m.,  and  then  there  was— on  this  occasion  alone 
in  all  the  year— a  celebration  of  the  Eucharist  in 
the  little  chapel  of  the  Cross,  to  the  east  of  Gol- 
^'otha.  The  bishop  celebrated,  and  all  communi- 
cated. In  Africa  at  the  same  time  there  was  an 
evening  Eucharist  on  this  day,  and  the  people  were 
exempted  from  the  customary  fast  before  Holy 
Communion  on  this  occasion  by  the  Third  Council 
of  Carthage,  a.d.  397  (can.  29  :  'excepto  uno  die 
anniversario  quo  coena  domini  celebratur,'  Mansi- 
Labbe,  iii.  col.  885).  -Tt  will  be  seen  that,  strictly 
speaking,  these  Eucharists,  if  celebrated  after  sun- 
set, were  at  the  beginning  of  Good  Friday  rather 
than  on  the  Thursday.  St.  Augustine  {Ep.  liv., 
see  below)  saj-s  that  there  were  in  his  time  two 
Eucharists  on  the  Thursday,  one  for  the  sake  of 
those  who  could  not  fast  till  evening,  and  would 
not  receive  the  Eucharist  otherwise. 

In  the  preparation  for  baptism  this  Thursday 
playe<l  an  important  part.  The  candidates  were 
bidden  to  lathe  on  this  day,  apparently  as  a 
ceremonial  washiiiLT  (Ifinpnl.  Can.  106;  Kqyptian 
Church  Ord'-r.  I",  [<.,  la-  ii.le  rightly];  Test,  of  our 
Lord,  ii.  6;  Anu-iiiii,  F.pp.  liv.  10,  Iv.  33  ad 
JaniiaHum).  Ilai  liiiu  ;it  I'ascha  was  not  confined 
to  the  comp't ,  „ t .  i  :  m  the  'Testament  the  widows 
(presbyteresses)  are  hidden  to  bathe  on  that  day 
(i.  42).  There  appears  also  to  have  been  on  that 
day  the  custom  in  some  jilaces  of  washing  the  feet 
of  the  competcnte.<c  in  memory  of  the  pedilauium  of 
.In  W"- — a  custom  which  afterwards  gave  the  name 
to  Maundy  Thursday  (from  the 


ment,'  mandatitm,  Jn  13^^).  Elsewhere  the  pedi- 
lauium took  place  after  baptism.  The  council  of 
Elvira  (can.  48)  forbade  priests  or  clergy  to  wash 
the  feet  of  the  newly  baptized.  Pseudo-Ambrose 
[dc  Saeramcntis,  iii.  1)  says  that  this  was  the  cus- 
tom at  the  place  where  he  wrote  (not  Jlilan  ?),  but 
tliatitdid  not  obtain  at  Rome.  In  the  Galilean 
Church  also  it  was  common  (Hefele,  Covncils,  i. 
158,  Eng.  tr.). 

(A)  J?as<er  ITceA-.— The  observance  of  the  days 
after  Easter  is  mentioned  in  the  Apostolic  Con- 
stitutions ('the  great  week  [Holy  Week]  and  that 
which  follows  it,'  viii.  32).  This  fortnight  was  to 
be  a  time  of  rest  for  slaves,  that  they  might  be 
instructed.  St.  Chrj-sostom  (Horn.  34  dc  Res.  Chr.) 
also  mentions  Easter  Week.  In  '  Silvia,',  Easter, 
as  well  as  Epiphany  [Christmas]  and  the  Dedica- 
tion, has  an  octave  during  which  'stations'  are 
held  at  the  various  churches  in  and  near  Jeru- 
salem. But,  with  this  exception,  octaves  outside 
Easter  Week  are  Western  and  not  Eastern. 

2.  Pentecost  and  Ascension.  —  (a)  The  name 
'Pentecost'  had  in  the  first  four  centuries  two 
meanings,  the  fiftieth  day  after  Easter,  and  the 
whole  season  of  fifty  days  after  that  festival. 

(a)  It  is  used  as  a  day  in  NT  :  Ac  2'  ('the  day  of 
Pentecost'),  20>»  (id.),  1  Co  16^  ('until  Pentecost') ; 
the  Jewish  nomenclature  was  continued  in  the 
Apostolic  age.  We  find  the  same  sense  in  suc- 
ceeding ages,  though  perhaps  not  so  frequently 
as  the  other.  A  fragment  of  IrenECus,  quoted  by 
pseudo- Justin  {Qua-st.  et  Respons.  ad  Orthodoxos, 
115)  seems  to  speak  of  the  day:  '  Irenwus  .  .  .  in 
his  treatise  irepl  toS  irdcxa  .  .  .  makes  mention  of 
Pentecost  also,  on  which  (cV  jj)  we  do  not  bend  the 
knee  because  it  is  of  equal  significance  with  the 
Lord's  Day.'  Pseudo-Justin  in  the  corresponding 
question  has  dTro  toC  irdffxa  fws  t^s  TrcvTijKOffTrjs. 
The  43rd  canon  of  Elvira  (c.  305  A.D.)  has:  '  ut 
cuncti  diem  Pentecostes  celebremus.'  'Silvia' 
(\-i.  §  1)  has  'a  Pascha  usque  ad  Quinquagesima, 
id  est  Pentecosten,'  and  (§  3)  '  Quinquagesimarum 
die,  id  est  dominica.' 

(|8)  On  the  other  hand,  the  use  of  the  name  for 
the  whole  season  is  also  common.  TertuUian  ((/<• 
Bapt.  19)  says  that  'after  Pascha,  Pentecost  is 
a  very  extensive  (latissimum ;  v.l.  Icetissimum) 
space  for  conferring  baptisms,  wherein,  too,  the 
Resurrection  of  the  Lord  was  repeatedly  proved 
among  the  disciples,  and  the  hope  of  the  Advent 
of  the  Lord  indirectly  pointed  to,  in  that  at  that 
time,  when  He  had  been  received  back  into  the 
heavens,  the  angels  told  the  Apostles  that  He 
would  so  come  as  He  had  withal  ascended  into  the 
heavens,  of  course  at  Pentecost.'  But  he  goes  on 
to  say  that  Jeremiah  signified  '  the  day  of  the 
Passover  and  of  Pentecost,  which  is  properly  a 
feast  day.'  In  de  Cor.  3  he  has  'from  Pascha  to 
Pentecost.'  In  de  Idol.  14  he  saj-s  that  the  Jews 
would  not  have  shared  with  Christians  the  Lord's 
Day,  nor  yet  Pentecost.  Thus  he  uses  the  word  in 
both  senses.  Ori"en  talks  of  '  living  in  the  season 
of  Pentecost '  in  tne  same  passage  (c.  Ccls.  viii.  22) 
in  which  he  talks  of  observing  certain  days,  as, 
for  example,  the  Lord's  Day,  the  Preparation,  the 
Passover,  or  Pentecost.  He  refers  to  the  Descent 
of  the  Spirit.  The  20th  canon  of  Niciea  forbids 
kneeling  in  the  'days  of  Pentecost,'  as  on  the 
Lord's  day.  This  is  unlike  St.  Paul's  usage ;  he 
knelt  at  this  season  (Ac  20^*  2P).  The  Testament 
of  our  Lord  speaks  of  '  the  days  of  Pentecost '  (i.  28, 
42,  ii.  12) ;  it  forbids  any  one  to  fast  or  kneel 
then,  for  these  are  '  the  days  of  rest  and  joy.'  St. 
liasil  speaks  of  the  'seven  weeks  of  the  holy 
Pentecost'  (On  the  Spirit,  ch.  27,  aliter  §  66). 

The  quotations  given  aliove  show  that  Pente- 
cost as  a  Christian  festival  goes  back  at  least  to 
Irenjeus.      It  is  rather  curious  that  there   is  no 


CALENDAR,  THE  CHRISTIAN 


CALENDAR  THE  CHRISTIAN     261 


reference  to  it  between  the  NT  and  tliat  Father  ; 
and  witli  this  fact  we  may  compare  the  silence  of 
the  earlier  writers  about  Easter  ;  but,  as  Duchesne 
remarks  {Orig.  viii.  §  4),  Pentecost  is  implied 
rather  than  explicitly  mentioned  in  early  Christian 
writings. 

(b)  fli^  Ascension. ~T\\e  fortietliday  after  Easter 
was  not,  so  far  as  we  know,  observed  as  a  com- 
memoration of  our  Lord's  goin"  up  to  heaven  until 
at  least  the  middle  of  the  4th  centnrj.  In  the 
Eclessenc  Canons  (can.  9)  the  Ascension  is  observed 
with  Pentecost :  '  At  the  completion  of  fifty  {ii.l. 
'  forty,'  but  this  is  clearly  a  later  correction)  days 
after  His  Kesurrection,  make  ye  a  commemoration 
of  His  Ascension.'  And  so  in  '  Silvia '  on  the  day 
of  Pentecost  there  is  a  '  station '  at  the  Mount  of 
Olives,  at  the  church  called  Imbomon,  '  that  is  in 
that  place  whence  the  Lord  ascended  into  heaven,' 
where  the  lection  of  the  Ascension  is  read.  This 
'station'  is  held  after  another  'in  Syon,'  where 
the  lection  of  the  Descent  of  the  Holy  Ghost  is 
read.  Thus  in  this  account  both  events  are  com- 
memorated on  the  same  day.  The  curious  thinp; 
is  that  in  '  Silvia '  there  is  also  an  observance  of 
the  fortieth  day  after  Easter ;  but  then  the  '  station ' 
is  at  Bethlehem,  and  there  is  no  mention  of  the 
Ascension.  The  coupling  together  of  the  two 
events,  which  has  its  parallel  in  the  joining  to- 
gether of  Good  Friday  and  Easter,  as  mentioned 
already,  is  illustrated  by  the  passage  from  the 
Epistle  of  Barnabas  cited  above  (I.  §  1) ;  the  writer 
thought  that  the  Ascension  fell  on  a  Sunday. 
Compare  also  Tertullian,  do  Bapt.  19  (see  above, 
%2a). 

Ascension  Day  is  not  found  in  the  Tfslamevt  of  our  Lord 
(c.  35U  A.u.  ?)  or  in  any  of  tlie  earlier  Church  Orders,  but  it  is 
found  in  the  Apostolic  Constitutions,  the  author  of  which  made 
it  his  aim  to  increase  the  festal  cycle  (v.  19,  viii.  32).  Sermons 
'  i  found  in  the  4th  cent.,  by  Euse- 


on  the  fortieth  day  after  Easter.  St.  Augustine  (Bp.  liv.  § 
ad  Januar.)  treats  it  as  universal  in  a.d.  400  :  •  They  are  held 
as  approved  and  instituted  either  by  the  Apostles  themselves  or 
by  plenary  councils  ...  for  example,  the  annual  commemoration 
by  special  solemnities  of  the  Lord's  Passion,  Resurrection,  and 
Aacensicn,  and  of  the  Descent  of  the  HolySpirit  from  heaven.' 

3.  Christmas  and  Epiphany — (a)  Their  origin. 
—These  festivals  are  of  much  later  date  than 
Easter  and  Pentecost,  and  were  probably  unknown 
till  nearly  a.d.  3U0.  They  were  both,  in  their 
origin,  one  festival,  and  both  were  meant  to  com- 
memorate the  Nativity  of  our  Lord  ;  but  the  East 
fixed  on  one  day  and  the  West  on  another  as  the 
date  of  the  birth  of  Christ,  and  so  in  course  of 
time  two  separate  festivals  emerged. 

Before  we  consider  the  evidence  for  the  observ- 
ance of  25th  December  and  6tK  January  as  festi- 
vals, it  will  be  desirable  to  investigate  the  reason 
why  these  two  days  were  chosen.  The  most  prolj- 
able  solution  of  the  matter,  in  the  light  of  our 
present  knowledge,  is  that  of  Duchesne  (Origines, 
ch.  viii.  §  5),  whose  theory  is  followed  here.  The 
date  25th  December  was  hrst  arrived  at  apparently 
by  Hippolytus.  Other  calculations  had  fixed  on 
18th  or  19th  April  or  29th  May  (Clement  of  Alex- 
andria, Strom,  i.  147,  ed.  Potter,  Oxford,  1715, 
p.  407  :  '  on  the  25th  day  of  the  month  Pachon ' ; 
see  the  whole  passage) ;  and  about  A.D.  243  the 
treatise  de  Pascha  ComjmUis  of  pseudo-Cyprian 
(see  above,  II.  §  1  rf)  named  28th  March.  The  cal- 
culations of  Hippolytus,  which  were  his  mature 
results  (for  he  had  formerly  fixed  on  2nd  January), 

Erevailed  all  over  the  West.  They  are  found  in 
is  Commentary  on  Daniel  (iv.  23,  p.  244,  ed.  Bon- 
wetsch  ;  aliter  iv.  9).  They  depend  on  the  assump- 
tion that  the  earthly  life  of  our  Lord,  from  Ills 
conception  to  His  death,  lasted  an  exact  number 


of  years.  The  upholders  of  symbolical  systems 
of  numbers  treated  all  fractions  as  imperfections. 
Acting  on  this  idea,  Hippolytus  fixed  on  25th 
March  for  the  Annunciation,  because  he  had,  as 
he  thought,  discovered  that  the  Crucifixion  took 
place  on  that  day  (see  above,  §  1  (0 ;  he  reckoned 
the  Saviour's  life  as  thirty-two  years,  from  B.C.  3 
to  A.D.  29.  Adding  nine  months,  he  arrived  at 
25th  December  as  the  day  of  the  Nativity.* 

The  other  date,  6th  January,  is  not  so  easily  ac- 
counted for.  But  Duchesne  mentions  a  coincidence 
which  increases  the  probability  of  his  theory  as  to 
25th  December  being  correct.  Sozomen  (^HE  vii. 
18)  says  tliat  'the  Montanists  who  are  called 
Pepuzites  and  Phrygians '  celebrated  the  Passover 
on  6th  April.  They  reckoned  that  the  world  had 
lieen  created  on  '  the  ninth  day  before  the  kalends 
of  April,'  the  vernal  equinox,  and  that  the  sun 
was  created  '  on  the  fourteenth  day  of  the  moon 
occurring  after  the  ninth  day  before  the  kalends  of 
April ' ;  and  they  always  celebrated  the  Passover 
'  on  this  day,  when  it  falls  on  the  day  of  the  Re- 
surrection,' otherwise  they  celebrated  it  on  the  fol- 
lowing Lord's  day.  They  probably,  then,  thought 
that  our  Lord  died  on  6th  April ;  and,  as  Duchesne 
remarks,  that  '  the  Passover  of  Christ,  being  the 
true  Passover,  must  fall  due  at  typical  maturity 
reckoned  from  the  origin  of  all  things.'  But 
reckoning  nine  months  from  6th  April,  on  the  same 
reasoning  as  that  of  Hippolytus,  we  arrive  at  6th 
January. 

We  do  not  read  of  either  of  these  days  being 
observed  as  festivals  in  the  3rd  century.  The 
first  mention  of  such  a  commemoration  on  25th 
December  is  in  the  Philocalian  Calendar  (see 
below,  §  5),  which  was  copied  in  354  A.D.,  bnt 
represents  the  official  observances  at  Rome  in 
A.D.  336.  We  find  the  entry:  'viij  kal.  Jan. 
Natus  Christus  in  Betlileem  Judse.'  It  is  not 
indeed  absolutely  certain  that  25th  December  was 
at  that  date  observed  as  a  feast ;  but  it  is  highly 
probalile  that  this  was  so,  as  the  other  days,  coni- 
meniorntions  nf  bishops  of  Rome  and  martyrs,  seem 
to  lie  iiiitcil  in  oi.lur  that  they  might  be  observed. 
Tills  \\:is  iiioic  ilnii  a  century  after  Hippolytus. 

It  «ill  Ijr  ol)sc  Tved  that  the  theory  given  above 
of  the  choice  ot  25th  December  takes  no  account 
of  the  heathen  festival  of  the  sun  held  on  the  same 
day.  But  it  is  quite  possible  that  when,  in  the 
4th  cent.,  the  Christians  began  to  observe  tlie 
Nativity  as  a  festival,  they  seized  on  the  coincidence 
between  the  day  as  calculated  by  Hippolytus  and 
the  heathen  feast-day,  and  Christianizing  the  latter 
as  the  Birth  of  the  true  Sun  of  Righteousness, 
showed  a  good  example  to  the  pagan  world  by 
making  the  day  a  true  holy  day. 

The  Eastern  festival  of  6th  January  may  be 
traced  to  about  A.D.  300  among  the  orthodox. 
Clement  of  Alexandria,  indeed  (Strom.  I.e.),  says 
that  the  followers  of  Basilides  celebrated  the  day 
of  Jesus'  baptism,  'spending  the  whole  preced- 
ing night  in  lections.'  But  the  earliest  orthodox 
mention  of  the  day  is  in  the  Passion  of  Philip  of 
Heraclea,  in  the  Diocletian  persecution,  A.D.  304. 
Philip  says  :  '  Epiphani;i3  dies  sauctus  incumbit ' 
(Ruinart,  Act.  Mart.  Sine.  p.  410).  That  it  was 
of  recent  introduction  when  the  Testament  of  our 
Lord  was  written  (c.  350  ?),  appears  from  there  being 
no  regulations  for  it  as  there  are  for  Pascha  and 
Pentecost.     It  is  only  just  mentioned  in  that  work 

('  Epiphany,'  Syr.  Vk>J?).     And  during  the  greater 

*  other  Patristic  assumptions  were  that  the  ministry  of  our 
Lord  lasted  one  year  only,  the  'acceptable  year  of  the  Lord' 
(Lk  419;  see,  e.g.,  Clem.  Alex.  2.C.,  'It  was  rifrht  for  Him  to 
preach  for  one  year  only'),  and  that  Jesus  was  baptized  on  His 
thirtieth  birthday  (Lk  323  ao-ii  i™,  t,„»w.t«).  This  last  idea 
accounts  for  the  baptism  of  Christ  being  commemorated  on  6tb 


262     CALENDAR,  THE  CHRISTIAN 


CALENDAR,  THE  CHRISTIAN 


})art  of  the  4tli  cent.,  and  in  some  countries  even 
ater,  6th  January  was  the  only  day  observed  in 
the  East.  The  sixth  Edessene  canon  prescribes 
'  the  Epiphany  of  our  Saviour,  whicli  is  tlie  chief 
of  the  festivals  of  the  Church  [this  is  significant], 
on  the  sixth  day  of  the  latter  Kanun,'  i.e.  6th 
January.  Epiphanius  knew  of  no  other  day.  In 
Hier.  li.  {'the  Alogi,'  lib.  ii.  torn.  1)  he  speaks  of 
'  A.D.  vi  Id.  Nov.'  as  being  60  days  before  the 
feast  'of  the  Epiphanies,'  when  Clirist  was  born 
according  to  the  flesh  (§  16),  and  of  '  the  day  in 
which  He  was  born,  that  is,  of  the  Epiphanie.s, 
which  is  the  sixth  of  January.'  Cassian,  at  the 
end  of  the  4th  cent.,  speaks  of  'Epiphany,  which 
the  priests  of  that  province  [Egypt]  regard  as  the 
time  both  of  our  Lord's  baptism  and  also  of  his 
birth  in  the  flesh,  and  so  celebrate  the  commemo- 
ration of  either  mystery  not  separately  as  in  the 
Western  provinces,  but  in  the  single  festival  of 
this  day'  (Conferences,  x.  2).  Even  later,  Gen- 
nadius  [de  Vir.  Illustr.  59)  says  that  '  Timothy  the 


bishop  Avrote  on  the  Nativity,'  and  that  this  work 
was  thought  to  have  been  composed  at  Epipl 
Only  6th  January  was  observed  at  Jerusale 


phany. 


the»time  of  'Silvia,'  when  there  was  a  'station' 
at  Bethlehem  at  night.  As  the  manuscript  is 
defective,  we  do  not  know  whether  there  was  a 
celebration  of  the  Eucharist  there,  but  it  is  prob- 
able that  there  was  one,  and  this  nocturnal 
'station'  may  have  been  the  origin  of  the  Christ- 
mas midnight  Eucharist  of  later  days.  The  name 
of  the  Eastern  festival  was  the  '  Epiphanies '  or 
'  Theophanies.'  Traces  of  the  older  custom  in  the 
East  of  observing  6th  January  only  are  found  in 
the  6th  cent,  at  Jerusalem,  where  Cosmas  Indico- 
pleustes  mentions  it.  He  says  that  the  Nativity 
and  the  Baptism  were  observed  on  the  same  day 
(Migne,  Patr.  Gr.  vol.  Ixxxviii.  197).  The  Ar- 
menians still  observe  only  that  day. 

The  Easterns,  however,  even  at  the  end  of  the 
4th  cent.,  began  to  adopt  the  Western  day  in 
addition  to  their  own  ;  and  probably  soon  after- 
wards the  Westerns  adopted  the  Eastern  day  as  a 
separate  festival.  And  thereafter  on  25th  December 
the  Church  commemorated  the  Nativity,  and  on 
6th  January  other  manifestations  of  our  Lord's 
Divinity  and  glory.  In  the  East  the  Baptism, 
with  its  manifestations,  was  and  is  alone  emphasized 
on  6th  January.  In  the  West,  as  St.  Augustine 
says  early  in  the  5th  cent,  (see  below),  the  coming 
of  the  Wise  Men  was  the  great  commemoration. 
The  Calendar  of  Polemius  Silvius  (a.D.  448)  com- 
bines it  with  our  Lord's  baptism  and  the  miracle  at 
Cana  (Wordsworth,  Min.  of  Grace,  viii.  §  1 ;  Migne, 
Patr.  Lat.  xiii.  676).  In  the  present  day  all  three 
events  are  commemorated. 

St.  Chrysostom  in  A.D.  386  tells  us  that  Christ- 
mas, as  distinct  from  Epiphany,  had  been  only 
lately  introduced  at  Antioch,  less  than  ten  years 
before  (in  Diem  Natalem,  ed.  Montfaucon,  Paris, 
1718,  ii.  355  A).  In  de  Bcato  Phitogonio  (i.  497  C) 
he  speaks  of  Epiphany,  Easter,  and  the  other 
festivals  taking  their  origin  from  Christmas ;  for, 
if  Christ  had  not  been  born,  He  would  in  no  wise 
have  been  baptized,  for  that  is  tlie  feast  of  the 
Theophanies.  In  the  Apostolic  Constitutions  botli 
Christmas  and  Epiphany  are  mentioned  (v.  13), 
and  this  is  one  of  the  chief  factors  in  determining 
the  date  of  tliat  Syrian  document.  At  Alexandria 
both  festivals  were  observed  before  the  year  432  ; 
for  Paul,  bishop  of  Emesa,  preached  there  on  his 
mission  of  peace  after  the  Council  of  Ephesus  on 
the  Sunday  before  Christmas,  on  Christmas  Day, 
and  on  the  following  Sunday,  New  Year's  Day  433 
(Smith-Wace,  Diet.  Chr.  Biog.  iv.  261,  s.v.  '  Paulus 
30'), 

In  the  West,  St.  Augustine  tells  us  tliat  both 
da^s  were  observed  in  his  time  ;  he  says  that  the 


Epiphany  was  kept  'per  universum  mundum,'  but 
that  the  Donatists  would  not  accept  it.  He  implies 
that  it  had  been  introduced  from  the  East,  and 
says  that  the  Donatists  did  not  love  unity,  and  did 
not  communicate  with  the  Eastern  Church  where 
that  star  [of  the  Magi]  appeared  (Sermon  202  in 
Epiphania  Domini,  iv.  ;  see  also  Sermons  199-204. 
The  six  Sermons  are  almost  entirely  taken  up  with 
the  coming  of  the  Wise  Men). 

(b)  Advent.— "VXie  first  trace  of  this  season  is 
in  the  canons  of  Saragossa  in  Spain  (Concilium 
C(esaraugustanum),  c.  380  A.D.  (Mansi-Labbe,  iii. 
633),  which  provide  that  from  xvi  kal.  Jan.  to  the 
'  day  of  Epiphany,  which  is  viij  Id.  Jan.,'  all  are 
sedulously  to  attend  church  (can.  4).  We  notice 
here  that  25th  December  is  apparently  unknown 
to  this  council,  and  that  the  preparatory  season 
before  6th  January  is  a  solemn  season  of  prayer 
and  churchgoing,  but  not  of  fasting ;  much  as  the 
'  forty  days  of  Pascha  '  are  in  the  Testament  of  our 
Lord'.  The  latter  work  speaks  of  the  'days  of 
Epiphany,'  which  may  mean  the  days  after  Epiph- 
any, or  possibly  the  days  before  it,  just  as  the 
'  days  of  Pascha '  mean  in  this  work  the  forty 
days  before  Easter,  and  the  '  days  of  Pentecost ' 


i.  The  Presentation  of  Christ  in  the  Temple.— 

For  this  commemoration  '  Silvia '  is  our  earliest 
authority.  On  this  day,  she  says,  all  the  presby- 
ters preached,  and  last  the  bishop  himself,  '  on  the 
events  of  the  day,  when  Joseph  and  Mary  bore  the 
Lord  into  the  temple,  and  Simeon  saw  Him,  and 
Anna  the  prophetess,  the  daughter  of  Samuel '  (sic). 
Then  the  Eucharist  was  celebrated.  '  Silvia '  calls 
this  day  '  Quadragesima  de  Epiphania,'  i.e.  14th 
February.  The  assembly  was  at  the  Church  of 
the  Anastasis.  Here  we  have  a  clear  indication  of 
the  way  in  which  festivals  at  Jerusalem  increased 
out  of  a  desire  to  commemorate  Gospel  events  in 
the  holy  places.  From  Jerusalem  this  festival 
spread  elsewhere  ;  but  we  do  not  hear  of  it,  except 
in  ■  Silvia,'  till  the  6th  century.  Its  name  then  was 
inrarai'Tri  or  the  Meeting  [of  our  Lord  and  Simeon] 
— a  name  still  retained  oy  the  Greeks. 

Although  Hippolytus  had  fixed  25th  March  as 
the  date  of  the  Annunciation,  no  trace  of  any 
observance  of  the  day  as  a  festival  is  found  in  the 
first  four  centuries,  nor  indeed  for  long  after. 
Possibly  its  frequent  concurrence  with  the  Paschal 
solemnities  or  the  Lenten  fast  prevented  this.  The 
Nestorians  keep  neither  the  Presentation  nor  the 
Annunciation. 

5.  Commemorations  of  S&ints,  etc.— These  can 
be  glanced  at  only  briefly  in  a  Dictionary  of  Christ 
and  the  Gospels.  They  were  originally  of  local 
origin,  and  did  not  at  once  become  popular  except 
in  the  places  wlifere  they  began.  The  earliest 
known  collection  of  local  saints'  days  is  the  Philo- 
calian  Calendar  of  A.D.  354,  which  may  be  con- 
veniently seen  in  Ruinart's  Acta  Marty  rum  Sin- 
cera  et  selecta,  p.  617,  and  in  Migne's  Patrologia 
Latina,  vol.  xiii.  ;  reference  may  also  be  made  to 
Bishop  Lightfoot's  essay  in  his  Clement  (i.  246,  on 
'TheLiberian  Catalogue').  It  is  the  only  extant 
calendar  which  is  certainly  older  than  A.D.  400, 
though  portions  of  a  Gothic  calendar  remain  which 
may  be  dated  shortly  before  that  year.  The  so- 
called  Hieronymian  Martyrology  is  much  later 
than  St.  Jerome.  The  Christian  section  of  the 
Pliilocalian  Calendar  (for  it  has  also  a  heathen 
section)  is  a  Koman  list.  It  has  two  parts :  the 
Depositio  (burial)  episcoporum,  and  the  Depositio 
martyrum.  Under  the  first  head  it  contains  twelve 
names :  Dionysius,  Felix,  Sylvester,  Miltiades, 
Marcellinus,  Lucius,  Caius,  Stephen,  Eusebius, 
Marcus,  Eutichianus,  Julius.  Julius  and  Marcus 
come  out  of  their  calendrieal  order  (not  Marcus  in 


CALENDAR,  THE  CHRISTIAN 


CALENDAR,  THE  CHRISTIAN     263 


Kuiiiart),  and  are  probably  later  additions  (Light- 
foot).  The  second  part  begins  with  Christmas 
(as  above,  §  3),  and  contains  no  other  festival  of 
Christ.  It  is,  no  doubt,  the  official  list  of  martyrs 
commemorated  at  Rome  at  the  time.  Its  names 
are  all  local,  except  Cyprian  and  Perpetua  and 
Felicitas,  which  are  African.  In  all  there  are  37 
entries,  as  given  by  Ruinart ;  but  some  have  more 
than  one  name.  "The  tirst  part  begins  at  vi  kal. 
Jan.,  and  its  latest  date  is  vi  Id.  Dec.  Of  the 
second  part  viii  kal.  Jan.  is  the  beginning  and  Id. 
Dec.  is  the  end.  The  beginning  of  the  year  must 
therefore  have  been  reckoned  as  Christmas  Day 
(25th  December),  or  at  least  some  day  between 
13th  and  25th  December.  It  is  interesting  to  note 
in  this  early  calendar  'iii  kal.  Jul.  [i.e.  June  29] 
Petri  in  Catacumbas  et  Pauli  Ostiense  Tusco  et 
Basso  Coss.,'  that  is  the  translation  of  the  bodies 
of  these  Apostles. 

A  Syriac  Martyrology  published  in  1866  by  Pro- 
fessor Wright  must  also  be  mentioned,  as,  though 
the  copy  in  the  British  Museum  dates  from  411, 
it  gives  (if  careful  examination  be  applied  to  it) 
eariier  lists  still.  It  is  an  Eastern  Martyrology 
translated  into  Syriac  and  abridged  at  Edessa 
about  400  A.D.  from  a  collection  made  in  Greek 
out  of  local  calendars.  It  has  two  Roman  entries, 
one  African,  and  the  rest  are  Eastern  ;  it  must 
have  been  originally  Arian,  as  it  does  not  contain 
the  name  of  Athanasius,  but  has  that  of  Arius  ('at 
Alexandria,  Arius  tlie  presbyter ').  Analysis  shows 
it  to  have  been  made  up  of  the  local  lists  of  Nico- 
media,  Antioch,  and  Alexandria.  The  two  latter 
appear  to  have  contained,  at  about  A.D.  350,  24 
and  26  entries  respectively.  This  shows  the  limited 
numbers  of  commemorations  in  the  4th  century. 
The  lists,  however,  speedily  grew  to  large  dimen- 
sions. For  other  early  calendars  reference  may  be 
made  to  the  works  mentioned  below. 

The  observance  of  the  death-days  (ncitalcs)  or 
burial  days  {deposit ioncs)  of  martyrs  may  be  traced 
back  to  the  2nd  cent.,  c.  155  A.D.  ;  the  letter  of 
the  Smyrneans  on  the  martyrdom  of  St.  Polycarp 
speaks  (§  18)  of  his  burial-place  '  where  the  Lord 
will  permit  us  to  gather  ourselves  together  ...  to 
celebrate  the  birtlulay  of  liis  martyrdom  for  the 
commemoration  of  those  that  have  already  fought 
in  the  contest,  and  for  the  training  and  preparation 
of  those  that  shall  do  so  hereafter.'  This  letter 
was  written  soon  after  the  martyrdom  (see  Light- 
foot's  Ignatius  and  Polycarp,  iii.  353  fF.).  St. 
Cyprian  says  that  the  death-days  of  the  martyrs 
were  to  be  carefully  noted,  that  they  might obsi 
such  commemorations  with  Eucharist  (Ep.  12,  to 
his  presbyters  and  deacons).  The  18th  Edesi 
Canon  orders  commemorations  of  the  martyrs.  And 
such  commemorations  are  mentioned  by  St.  Basil 
(Ep.  93,  as  above,  I.  §  3). 

For  the  purposes  of  this  Dictionary,  the  obser- 
vances of  the  days  following  25th  December  are 
of  interest,  as  being  closely  connected  with  the 
Nativity  of  our  Lord.  These  observances  date 
from  tlie  4th  century.  St.  Gregory  of  Nyssa, 
preaching  tlie  funeral  oration  of  his  brother  St. 
Basil  (who  died  1st  January  379),  says  that  they 
were  then  celebrating  these  saints'  days,  which 
were  convenient  (he  remarks)  because  Apostles  and 
Prophets  were  lirst  constituted  and  ordained,  and 
after  that  pastors  and  teachers.  He  lirst  mentions 
the  commemoration  of  the  Apostles  and  Prophets 
after  Christmas,  namely,  Stephen,  Peter,  James, 
John,  Paul  ;  and  then  IJasil  (in  Landem  Fratris 
Basilii,  ad  init.,  ed.  Paris  of  1638,  p.  479).  It  does 
not  necessarily  follow  that  the  saints  mentioned 
were  commemorated  on  different  days.  The  Apos- 
tolic Constitutions  mention  a  commemoration  of 
the  martyrs  and  '  blessed  James  the  bishop '  [the 
Lord's  brother],  and  '  the  holy  Stephen  our  fellow- 


servant'  (v.  8;  so  viii.  32).  The  Syriac  Martyr- 
ology mentioned  above  gives  St.  Stephen  on  26th 
December,  St.  James  and  St.  John  on  27th  Decem- 
ber, St.  Peter  ,and  St.  Paul  on  28th  December. 
With  this  we  may  compare  two  later  usages,  the 
Armenian  and  the  Nestorian  (East  Syrian),  as 
these  separated  Christians  have  retained  many 
early  customs  which  others  have  dropped.  The 
Armenians,  who  do  not  observe  25th  December  as 
Christmas,  commemorate  St.  David  and  St.  James 
the  Lord's  brother  on  that  date,  but  follow  the 
Syriac  Martyrology  for  the  other  days,  save  that 
they  transpose  27tli  and  28th  December  (Duchesns, 
Orirj.  viii.  §  5.  2).  The  Nestorian  usage  is  some- 
what difi'erent.  That  Church  keeps  its  saints'  days 
according  to  the  movable  Christian,  year  rather 
than  according  to  the  month,  and  most  of  them 
faU  on  Fridays.  The  Fridays  after  Christmas 
(25th  December),  if  there  are  sufficient  before  Lent, 
are  (1)  St.  James  the  Lord's  brother,  (2)  St.  Mary, 
(3)  St.  John  Baptist,  (4)  St.  Peter  and  St.  Paul, 
(5)  Four  Evangelists,  (6)  St.  Stephen ;  and  other 
festivals  of  later  origin  follow  (Maclean,  East 
Syrian  Daily  Offices,  p.  264  tt'.).  Duchesne  con- 
jectures that  the  '  Four  Evangelists '  is  a  trans- 
formation of  St.  James  and  St.  John,  the  latter 
having  attracted  to  him  the  three  other  Evan- 
gelists, and  the  former  being  omitted.  The 
Orthodox  Easterns  now  commemorate  St.  James 
the  Lord's  brother  on  the  Sunday  after  Christmas. 

'  Silvia'  has  not,  like  the  Apostolic  Constitutions, 
a  general  martyrs'  festival ;  nor  yet  have  the  other 
Church  Orders.  But  considering  the  great  develon- 
ment  of  festivals  in  '  Silvia,'  it  is  not  improbable 
that  she  did  describe  such  a  general  commemora- 
tion ;  only  the  manuscript  breaks  off  suddenly  in 
the  middle  of  the  account  of  the  Dedication  festival, 
and  we  cannot  be  sure  of  what  was  in  the  lacuna. 

Speaking  generally,  we  note  a  ditierence  between 
these  commemorations  and  the  festivals  of  our 
Lord.  The  former  were  at  lir.st  local  only,  and  of 
inferior  importance.  The  Nestorians  to  this  day 
keep  up  a  sharp  distinction  between  the  two,  calling 

the    former    PfOOJ   commemorations,   the   latter 

Iji^  festivals,   or   U-Jrl>0    ] j^i.  festivals  if  our 

Lord ;  and  the  distinction  is  ancient. 

Dedication  festivals  were  common  in  the  4th 
cent.,  though  they  are  not  mentioned  in  the  Church 
Orders,  even  in  "those,  like  the  Testament  of  our 
Lord,  which  describe  the  church  buildings  min- 
utely. These  festivals  concern  us  here  only  as 
contributing  to  the  calendar  Holy  Cross  Day, 
which  was  the  commemoration  of  the  dedication 
in  335  of  the  churches  built  by  Constantine  on  the 
site  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre  and  Calvary,  and  of  the 
alleged  discovery  of  the  true  cross  by  St.  Helena, 
Constantine's  mother.  'Silvia '  says  that  the  anni- 
versary was  observed  with  great  ceremony  in  her 
time,  many  pilgrims  from  distant  lands  attend- 
ing, and  the  churches  being  adorned  as  at  Easter 
and  Christmas.  This  day  (14th  September,  but 
among  the  Nestorians  13th  September)  passed  from 
Jerusalem  to  Constantinople  ;  at  Rome  it  was  not 
introduced  till  the  7th  century. 

Of  the  other  days  of  Apostles,  Martyrs,  or  Con- 
fessors, most  of  which  are  of  later  introduction 
than  the  4th  cent.,  it  may  be  observed  that  the 
majority,  at  least,  are  due  to  the  local  dedication 
of  a  church  named  after  the  saint  at  Rome,  Con- 
stantinople, or  elsewhere.  See  Duchesne,  Orig.  eh. 
viii.  passi7n. 

RECAPITULATION  OF  FESTAL  CYCLES.— 
Fathers  of  the  first  three  centuries  :  Pascha  and 
Pentecost. 


CALf 


CALL,  CALLING 


Epiphany  ivith  octave, 


Testament  of  our  Lord :  Pasclia,  Pentecost,  and 
Epiphany. 

Apostolic  Cmutitutions :  Ascension,  Pentecost, 
Pascha,  Christmas,  Epiphany,  Apostles'  days 
(plural),  St.  Steplien  and  All  INIartyrs'  day  (singu- 
lar)— viii.  32  Lagarde  {alitor  33).  Add  St.  James 
the  Lord's  lirotlier,  v.  8.  [The  sections  of  the 
Apost.  Const,  mentioned  in  this  article  are  all 
Lagarde's]. 

Pilgrimage  of  '  Sili 
Presentation,  Palm  Sunday,'  faster  -with  octave, 
Fortieth  day  after  Easter,   Pentecost  (including 
Ascension),  Dedication  (Holy  Cross  Day). 

Cappadocian  Fathers  and  Syriac  Martxjrology : 
Add  St.  Stephen,  St.  Peter  and  St.  Paul,  St.  Jaiues 
and  St.  John. 

The  account  of  the  Christian  calendar  is  thus 
brought  down  to  about  A.D.  400.  For  festivals 
introduced  after  that  date  reference  may  be  made 
to  the  various  works  on  Christian  history  and 
antiquities. 

Literature. —(1)  General:  Duchesne,  Ori(iines  rfi'  cultc 
Chretien  (Eng.  tr.  from  third  ed.  entitled  Christian  Wnr^hij), 
its  Origin  and  Evolution);  Bp.  J.  Wordsworth,  Miiiisl,;/  nf 
Grace.  — Oi)  Calendars:  Achelis,  Die  i/,.,'  .'  -  .  iuki; 
Dom    Butler,    notice  of   Achelis'  hock  l/^'oL 

Studies,  ii.  147;  and  Duchesne  and  u  .— 

(3)  On  the  Lord's  dny:  Zahn,  SfctJaiKi'  ;  -  .lllen 

Kirch,-.  1S!)4,  i-h.  vi.i  TIpssev,  Bampl-m  L  ....  ',  Tre- 
!•::.::  ^'  '  I  -J  -(4)  Christm.is  :  Saliiinn,  ii:.iier  on 
ill    1   i    -    '  I.     I      ..[1  Daniel  in  neriiuifhcnn,  vol.   iii. 

I'  ^  II         . -ne    and   Wordsworth    .xs   aliove, — 


CALF.— See  Animal,s,  p.  63''. 
CALL,  CALLING.— 

1.  Teniis. 
(n)  OT. 
(6)  Gospels, 
(c)  Epistles. 


BBS- 


(rf) The  Uosptl  tali  iTi  Christ  s  own  Iciching. 
Literature. 

1.  The  TERM.S.— (a)  The  or.— The  sub-stantive 
'  call '  is  not  found  in  the  Engli.sh  Bible.  If  used  of 
an  animal's  call,  it  tends  to  imply  a  significant 
note— e.g.  a  mother's  call  to  her  Ijrood  (Bunyan, 
PP  ii.  62)— not  a  mere  emotional  cry.  The  English 
verb  '  caU '  has  for  its  primary  meaninjj  '  to  speak 
loudly.'  In  Helmw  we  ii..to  tliu  same  implication 
in  Kni5,  e.g.  Pr  ^|  :  l.ut  in  llihivw  the  word  still 
more  strongly  ~ii^_i  -t-  .uimilate  human  speech, 
even  perhaps  in  !'>  U7'  (allhough  the  partridge 
probably  derives  its  name  x-^p  from  its  callinij). 
It  is  indeed  the  technical  word  for  reading  (eg'  Is 
29'-) :  the  Hebrews  reatl  aloud  and  prayed  aloud. 
Eli  suspected  Hannah  (1  S  1")  not  because  her  lips 
moved  in  private  jjiayer— rather  because  in  the 
intensity  and  modesty  of  her  desire  she  prayed 
without  sound.  Loudness  may  express  authority  ; 
or  it  may  be  a  siniple  effort  to  attract  notice. 
Anyway,  a  'call,'  Hebrew  or  English,  is  a  loutl 
and  definite  communication  from  one  jrerson  to 
another.  Either  language  may  use  the  verb  in- 
transitively, but  always  with  a  sort  of  latent 
transitiveness.  In  Greek,  on  the  other  hand, 
KoXiw  is  transitive.  What  is  implied  in  the  other 
languages  is  explicit  in  this  one.  Definiteness 
(and  perhaps  authority)  receives  reinforcement 
when  the  callinjj  is  by  name.  We  are  probably 
not  to  confuse  tins  with  the  mere  giving  of  a  name  ; 
though,  according  to  the  ideas  of  the  ancient  world, 
so  much  power  is  wrajiped  up  in  names  that  there 


may  be  a  certain  infiltration  of  that  thought  in 
the  Biblical  usage  of  calling  by  name.  But,  more 
simply,  one's  name  arrests  one's  attention,  and 
assures  one  that  the  call  is  addressed  to  lijm.  In 
Deutero-Isaiah  it  is  said  that  Jehovah  has  a  name 
for  eveiy  star  (Is  40^  [we  need  not  discuss  whether 
the  stars  are  here  conceived  as  alive],  imitated  in 
Ps  147^).  That  signifies  His  power ;  it  is  rather 
His  condescension  that  is  shown  when  He  calls 
the  prophetic  servant,  Israel,  by  name  (Is  43'). 
Again,  He  calls  Cyrus  'by  name'  to  his  historic 
functions  (Is  45='•^  cf.  also  Ex  31=  [P]).  If  our 
text  is  to  be  trusted,  Jehovah  even  '  surnames ' 
Cyrus  (Is  45'').  It  is  a  mark  of  kindliness  when  a 
ser\-ant  is  not  simply  '  waiter '  or  '  guard '  to  his 
rich  employer,  but  has  a  name  and  a  recognized 
personality  of  his  own.  (Here  cf.  Ex  38'"").  To 
'surname,'  at  least  in  the  strict  sense,  is  a  still 
stronger  proof  of  friendly  interest ;  surnames  are 
a  token  of  some  new  destiny,  or  else  imply 
knowledge  of  idiosyncrasies.  (Ace.  to  P,  Jehovah 
renames  'Abram'  and  'Sarai,'  Gn  17'",  while 
Moses  renames  'Hoshea,'  Nu  13"*;  cf.  also  the 
surnames  given  by  our  Lord  to  the  three  leading 
Apostles,  Sik  3'*-'').  It  is  also  in  Deutero-Isaiah 
that  we  find  the  emergence  of  'call'  in  a  sort  of 
theological  sense ;  the  '  call '  of  Abraham  (bl-  '  I 
called  Mm'). 

Another  important  section  of  the  OT  for  our 
terminology  is  the  '  Praise  of  Wisdom,'  Pr  1-9. 
Se\  cral  things  are  noticeable  here ;  the  loud  call 
-Divine  W'iMloni  as  a  street  preacher  (8',  cf.  I»>) ; 
I  111'  Milium  iiliuiinis  conception  of  the  call  rejected 
1 1-');  till-  rail  u>  an  invitation  to  a  feast  (ch.  9). 
'I'liU  last  ti.sai;!'  (' call '  =  ' invite '),  while  obsolete 
in  motlern  English,  is  found  in  its  literal  sense 
both  in  OT  antl  NT  of  our  version  ;  e.g.  1  K  V,  Ju 
■2-  AV. 

Still  another  group  of  OT  passages  may  seem 
to  require  notice— those  describing  the  *  call '  of 
various  prophets.  The  term  is  not  so  used  in  OT 
(unless  IsSr-?— see  above— Abraham  isa  '  prophet' 
in  Gn  20'  [E]).  But  there  is  a  passage  which  would 
lend  itself  excellently  to  this  interpretation — the 
tale  of  the  call  of  the  young  Samuel,  where  we 
have  three  interesting  parallel  usages :  Jehovah 
'  called  to  Samuel '  ( 1  S  3* literally),  ' citlled  Samuel ' 
(v.8),  'called  .  .  .  Samuel,  Samuel'  (v.'»). 

There  are  therefore  several  usages  of  the  word 
'to  call'  in  OT  which  we  ought  to  keep  in  mind 
as  we  approach  the  Gospels.  It  means  command, 
or  it  means  invitation.  It  means  a  summons  to 
special  function,  or  it  means  (along  with  that)  a 
peculiar  mark  of  gracious  condescension. 

(6)  In  the  (iospels,  the  verb  may  occur  in  the 
literal  sense  (Mt  20").  But  in  general  a  compound 
form  is  preferred  for  such  sense  ;  e.g.  when  Jesus 
calls  (TrpoffdoXeffd/uti-os)  His  disciples  near  Him  for  a 
short  talk  (Mk  10*-).  We  have  the  simple  form  in 
one  iiiipiirtant  jiassage  when  James  and  John  are 
'calKd'  (.MU  1-'"  I!  .Mt  4-'  f«i\f(rev),  though  the 
compound  (irpoo-\a\erTai)  is  found  in  Mark's  record 
of  the  selection  of  the  Twelve  (3"),  while  in  the 
parallel  in  Luke  (6'")  wpoa^JKJiniacv  is  employed. 
It  might  be  argued  that,  even  here,  the  mere  icord 
'called' means  no  more  than  'called  to  Himself.' 
Still,  in  view  of  OT  antecedents,  that  is  question- 
able. Anyway,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  those  '  calls ' 
were  commands  and  invitations,  to  'leave  all' 
(Mk  10=*)  and  follow  Jesus—  to  take  up  .solemn 
functions  in  His  senice.  When  comjwunds  of 
KaXiu  are  used,  or  wlien  (pavioi  is  used,  we  need  not 
suspect  deep  religious  or  theological  significance  in 
the  word.  Yet  here  again  the  fact  has  to  be  dealt 
with.  Jesus  may  simply  'call  to'  (^ui'tii')  Barti- 
maMis  (Mk  lO*") ;  but  the  result  of  the  conversation 
(and  miracle)  is  that  he  Avho  h.ad  been  blind  'fol- 
lows  Jesus   in    the    way'    (10*-).     In    two    other 


CALL,  CALLING 


CALL,  CALLING 


265 


passages  the  ijroup  of 
Pr  1-9— privile: 


associated  with 
ege  rather  than  authority ;  invita- 
tion, rattier  than  command— come  to  the  front : 
'  I  came  not  to  call  {KaX^aai.)  the  righteous,  but 
sinners'  (Mlc  2",  Mt  9'^;  Lk  5'^  adds  'to  repent- 
ance'), and  'many  are  called  (KXrjToi),  but  few 
chosen'  (Mt  22";  in  20'"  these  words  are  rightly 
dropped  by  RV  as  not  belonging  to  the  original 
text). 

(c)  Though  our  concern  is  with  the  Gospels,  we 
cannot  refuse  to  consult  the  Epistles  for  the  light 
they  may  throw  on  Gospel  usage.  They  give  us  a 
cognate  substantive;  not  'call'  but  'calling.' 
'  Call '  as  a  substantive  occurs  in  English  much 
earlier  than  our  AV,  but  presumably  the  purely 
physical  idea— the  audible  call— was  too  strongly 
marked  in  it  to  allow  of  its  standing  for  God's 
address  to  the  conscience.  'Calling,'  which  was 
preferred,  reproduces  the  form  of  the  Greek  sub- 
stantive K\TJ(ns.  This  term  is  mainly  Pauline  (e.rf. 
1  Co  1^),  though  it  extends  into  Hebrews  (3>)  and 
(at  least  so  far  as  the  verb  is  concerned)  into  1  Peter 
(1"  2").  As  moulded  by  St.  Paul,  there  is  no 
doubt  that  the  'call'  is  primarily  one  to  salvation 
(Ro  8^"'"),  though  it  may  also  signify  special 
(Apostolic)  function  (Ro  1').  The  Epistle  to  the 
HeVews  preserves  the  same  twofold  reference. 
All  believers  'partake  of  a  heavenly  calling'  (3'), 
but  none  may  take  high  honour  or  oHice  upon 
himself  except  when  '  called '  by  God  thereto 
(5*).  Later  in  the  history  of  Engli.sh  speech,  the 
physical  implications  of  the  noun  '  call '  having 
been  in  some  measure  rubbed  otV,   it  came  into 


Scripture  had  used  a  substantive,  'calling'  would 
have  been  installed  by  our  translators  in  tliis 
phrase.  The  NT  '  calling '  is  a  single  definite  act 
m  the  past,  whether  personal  conversion  [sometimes 
acceptance  of  Divinely  imijosed  duty]  or  the  historic 
mission  of  Christ.  He  who  'called'  us  is  holy 
(1  P  1'*).  In  our  modern  use  of  'calling,'  some- 
thing seems  borrowed  from  the  idea  of  a  worUlhj 
calling,  viz.  habitualness.  Ace.  to  Murray's  Dir- 
tionary,  1  Co  7'°  introduced— almost  by  an  accident 
— the  use  of  'calling'  for  worldly  rank,  station, 
external  surroundings.  'Hence,'  it  adds,  '  "call- 
ing" came  to  be  applied  to  the  various  means  of 
bread- winning.'  [The  exegesis  of  the  verse  is  dis- 
puted, but  the  view  the  Dictionary  proceeds  on 
seems  to  be  right.  It  is  not,  of  course,  pretended 
that  '  calling '  in  1  Co  7-"  means  e.nictbj  trade  or 
profession.  St.  Paul  would  ne\er  make  it  matter 
of  conscience  that  a  Christian  should  refrain  from 
changing  his  trade].  Botli  these  senses — viz.  (1) 
station,  and  (2)  trade— are  often  (unwarrantably, 
the  Dictionary  seems  to  think,  as  far  as  ety- 
mology goes)  regarded  as  Divine  vocations.  This  is 
surely  obscure.  If  1  Co  7-"  taught  so  little,  can  we 
hold  it  responsible  for  a  twofold  set  of  meanings  ? 
May  not  professional  '  calling '  rather  mean,  in  the 
first  instance,  '  what  I  am  called  ' — William  [the] 
Smith,  John  [the]  Tailor  ?  a  still  humbler  etymo- 
logy. However  that  may  be,  the  idea  of  Divine 
vocation  in  daily  concerns  could  not  be  ruled  out 
from  Christian  thought.  Thus  inevitably  Chris- 
tians have  been  led  to  formulate  the  idea  of  a 
lifelong  Divine  vocation,  covering  all  externals, 
but  centring  in  the  heart.  It  may  be  repeated 
that  '  calling '  (the  substantive)  is  not  found  in  the 
Gospels  ;  of  course  the  word  is  not  found  anywhere 
in  the  EV  in  the  sense  of  '  trade.' 

2.  Secular  calling.— It  is  unnecessary  to  pass 
under  review  the  occupations  followed  by  our  Lord 
in  youth  and  by  His  Apostles.  See  artt.  Trades, 
Carpenter,  Flshing,  etc. 

3.  Spiritual  calling.— («)  Our  Lord  Himself, 
who  calls  all  others,  was  '  called  of  God '  (He  5^)  to 


(lie  Mcssiah^liip.  It  is  an  irrelevant  sentimentality 
that  dwells  too  much  on  the  '  carpenter  of  Naza- 
reth.' Jesus  was  full  of  the  consciousness  of  His 
calling,  its  requirements,  its  limitations.  Not  to 
cite  the  Fourth  Gospel — abundant  signs  of  this, 
but  in  the  usual  golden  haze  blurring  all  sharp 
outlines— we  have  Mk  p8(?)  2"  10«,  Mt  5"  15^^ 
etc.  etc.  It  is  one  of  the  services  of  RitsclU  to 
recent  theology— with  anticipations  in  von  Hof- 
mann— that  he  has  made  prominent  the  thought  of 
Christ's  vocation,  displacing  the  less  worthy  and 
less  ethical  category  of  Christ's  merit.  In  tlie 
Gospels  this  vocation  is  expressed  by  the  word 
'  sent '  or  I  '  came '  (as  above ;  or''  hira  that  sent  me,' 
Jn  i^  etc.),  not  by  'call.'  If  there  is  any  one 
point  in  our  Lord's  life  where  it  may  be  held  that 
the  'call'  definitely  reached  Him, — where  He 
became  conscious  of  Messiahship, — we  must  seek 
it  at  His  baptism  (Mk  P-"  ;  three  parallels). 

(b)  In  dealing  with  the  call  addressed  by  Christ 
to  His  disciples,  we  begin  with  the  Apostles. 
Taking  the  ditt'erent  Gospels  together,  we  seem  to 
recognize  three  stages.  (1)  According  to  St.  Jolin, 
(Christ's  first  disciples  were  Galilteans  who,  like 
Himself,  had  visited  the  Jordan  in  order  to  be 
baptized  by  John  :  Andrew,  John,  Simon  Peter, 
Philip,  Nathanael  (presumably  =  Bartholomew  ; 
see  art.  Bartholomew,  above),  and  presumably 
James  the  brother  of  John  (Jn  1^-'^').  The  only 
one  mentioned  as  called  with  a  'follow  me'  is 
Philip  (1^^)  ;  and  it  is  possible  that  this  is  rather 
an  invitation  to  follow  on  the  journey  to  Galilee 
than  through  life  (and  deatli).  For  tlie  rest,  we 
have  acquaintancesliips  and  attachments  appa- 
rently forming  themselves— elective  affinities  dis- 
played, rather  than  the  Master's  will  exercised  ad 
hoc ;  but  the  result,  according  to  St.  John,  is 
the  formation  of  a  small  yet  definite  circle,  who 
are  disciples  (2=- '=■ "  etc.  etc.)  of  Jesus  now,  as 
others  are  (and  as  they  themselves  previously  were) 
of  John  the  Baptist.  (2)  The  Synoptists  tell  us  of 
the  call  in  Galilee  ('Come  ye  after  me,' Mk  1"1| 
Mt  4'" :  '  He  called  them,'  Mk  l'-"  |1  Mt  4=')  of  Peter, 
Andrew,  James,  John.  The  first  two  are  called 
with  a  sort  of  pleasantry  ;  they  are  to  be  'fishers 
of  men,'  in  allusion  to  their  former  occupation. 
St.  Luke  has  the  same  narrati\e  (.">'"")  in  a  more 
picturesque  form  ;  the  borrowing  of  Peter's  boat, 
in  order  to  teach  from  it  as  a  pulpit ;  payment 
after  sermon  in  the  form  of  a  miraculous  draught 
of  fishes ;  Peter's  fear  as  a  sinner  at  the  near 
presence  of  the  supernatural ;  the  same  kindly 
hon  mot;  all  four  fishermen  ['M'.']  on  tlie  spot; 
all  four  becoming  disciples.  Here  the  call  (see 
art.  Disciple  below)  involves  leaving  everything 
to  follow  Christ  (Lk  5",  Mk  lO"-^  cf.  l'^-^^,  Mt  19-' 
cf.  42i'-22).  Previous  acquaintance  with  these  men 
may  have  induced  Jesus  to  begin  His  teaching 
by  the  Sea  of  Galilee  [an  'undesigned  coinci- 
dence '  ?].  Other  members  of  the  discijile  circle  in 
Galilee  must,  have  been  added  one  by  one  ;  some  by 
elective  affinity  !  Not  all  volunteers  might  be  re- 
pelled like  the  scribe  of  Mt  8''-'||  Lk  Q^".  Matthew 
the  publican,  however  (Mt  9",  Lk  5^'  Levi,  Mk 
2'''  Levi  the  son  of  Alph;eus),  is  called  straight 
from  his  place  of  toll  to  'follow,'  and  instantly 
obeys  ;  a  memorable  incident.  (3)  Tlie  final  '  call ' 
in  this  series  appears  when  Jesus  "calls  to  him 
whom  he  himself  will,'  and  'appoints  twelve,  that 
they  may  be  with  hira,  and  that  he  may  send  them 
forth  to  preach  and  .  .  .  cast  out  devils'  (Mk  3'^ 
etc.  ;  so  too,  though  less  clearly,  Lk  6" ;  not  in 
Mt.  ;  10'  'his  twelve  disciplesj'  v.°  'the  twelve 
apostles').  (4)  (.)r,  if  there  is  another  stage  still, 
it  is  iiKiikr.l  «  Wn  they  are  '  sent  out '  for  the  first 
time  (Mt  lii\  .Mk  6',  Lk  9'),  or  when  in  conse- 
queiicf  of  (lii^  the  name  'apostles'  (see  art. 
Apostle)  is  attached  to  them.     Thus,  in  the  case 


266 


CALL,  CALLING 


CAMEL,  CAMEL'S  HAIR 


of  at  least  twelve  men,  the  call  has  issued  in  a 
very  definite  calling ;  permanent,  and  in  a  sense 
official. 

((•)  Another  group  possesses  a  varied  interest. 
It  includes  volunteers  ;  it  relates  'calls'  to  service 
addressed  to  those  who  were  not  destined  to  be 
Apostles ;  it  oft'ers  examples  of  the  call  rejected. 
There  are  four  cases ;  the  rich  j'oung  ruler  (Mk 
10"  etc.  and  parallels),  and  a  group  of  three  found 
together  (Lk  9"-62 .  partial  parallel  Mt  8'^-==).  The 
scribe  (see  Mt.)  who  volunteers  means,  or  professes 
to  mean,  discipleship  in  the  intenser  sense.  He  will 
follow  '  wherever  the  Master  goes ' ;  he  will  '  leave 
all,'  like  the  Twelve  ;  the  stumbling-block  of  pro- 
perty, which  was  too  much  for  the  young  ruler, 
is  no  stumbling-block  to  him.  This  volunteer 
meets  not  with  welcome  but  rebuff;  and,  so  far  as 
we  know,  there  is  an  end  of  his  gospel  service. 
Again,  the  man  whose  father  is  just  dead— that 
seems  the  ine.xorable  sense  of  the  words— is  needed 
immediately  as  a  herald  of  the  'kingdom  of  God' 
(so  Luke).  And  the  other  volunteer,  who,  with 
less  urgency  (so  far  as  we  are  told)  is  anxious 
'  first '  to  bid  farewell  to  his  home  circle,  is  '  look- 
ing back '  from  the  plough.  St.  Luke  seems  well 
justified  in  making  these  narratives  introduce  a 
wider  mission  (that  of  the  'Seventy').  And  here 
we  get  important  light  on  the  demand  tliat  tlie 
rich  young  ruler  should  give  away  his  property. 
This  may  have  seemed  to  our  Lord's  discernment 
necessary  for  the  man's  own  safety — does  not  tlie 
sequel  point  in  that  direction  ?  But,  even  inde- 
pendently of  that,  though  a  Christian  might  be  a 
man  of  means  (see  below),  a  wandering  preacher 
could  Iiardly  be.  These  were  calls  to  service,  which 
met,  temporarily  or  finally,  with  tragic  refusal. 
Whatever  else  the  refusal  may  have  implied  is 
God's  secret. 

(d)  So  far  we  have  dealt  chiefly  with  authority  ; 
when  we  consider  the  few  cases  in  the  Gospels 
where  the  call  is  generalized — '  not  the  righteous 
butsinners'(Mk2"l|  Mt  9"  ||  Lk  5=-) ;  'many  called, 
few  chosen '  (Mt  '2-2^-')—inritrition  comes  to  the 
front.  The  parable  depicting  the  Kingdom  of  God 
as  a  feast  (Mt  22=t-,  Lk  U>«»-),  while,  of  course,  a 
parable  and  not  to  be  pressed  too  far,  emphasizes 
this.  Its  language  recalls  Pr  9.  .\nd  it  has  been 
remarked  that  the  well-known  lovely  '  gospel 
invitation  '  (Mt  !!=«•*>)  strongly  suggests  Divine 
Wisdom  speaking.  More  questionable  is  the  idea 
started  by  Bruce  in  the  Expos.  Gk.  Test,  that  Jesus 
literally  invited  outcasts  to  a  free  meal  at  a  jmblic 
hall  in  the  name  of  Levi  (Matthew) — a  sort  of 
Free  Breakfast  or  Midnight  Supper.  On  the  other 
hand,  the  very  earliest  form  of  the  general  call  is 
pure  authority  ;  '  Repent'  (Mt  4",  Mk  I'S). 

In  all  these  cases,  language  itself  helps  us  to 
vindicate  the  great  truth,  that  the  call  of  Christ 
is  not  merely  a  call  to  some  external  form  of 
serWce  under  rapidly  vanishing  conditions,  but  a 
call  addressed  to  heart  and  conscience ;  in  other 
words,  that  Christianity  is  essentially  a  religion. 
Of  course,  this  i  ml  h  l..(r,iii,s  clearer  in'the  Epistles, 
or  in  the  Fourtli  Ih>-|,,1,  i1i,ui  in  the  earlier  and 
less  reflective  Ch-imIs;  hut,  in  regard  to  our 
'calling,' as  in  all  respects,  the  teaching  of  Christ 
Himself  traces  the  plain  outlines  within  which 
His  Apostles  afterwards  work.  Perhaps  we  ought 
to  note  here  a  difference  at  least  in  language 
between  Christ  and  St.  Paul.  To  the  latter,  the 
'  called '  are  eo  ipso  the  '  elect '  or  '  predestinated ' 
(Ro  8=»-  ™-  ^) ;  to  Christ,  '  calling  '  (inviting)  comes 
first  (Mt  22"),  and  selection  follows  ;  '  after  trial,'  as 
it  has  been  expressed.  Our  Lord's  words,  therefore, 
mark  our  Christian  calling  as  a  calling  to  service  and 
as  a  probation.  Though  we  are  admitted  to  His 
friendship  and  love,  all  is  not  assured.  According 
to  His  language  in  the  Fourth  Gospel,  one  'given' 


to  Christ  may  '  perish  '  (.In  17'-).  The  '  unfruit- 
ful '  branch  is  '  taken  away,'  '  cast  forth,'  '  burned ' 
( Jn  15--  ^).  All  must  stand  before  His  judgment- 
seat  ;  a  thought  which  the  parables  spoken  in  view 
of  separation,  parables  addressed  to  His  own,  parti- 
cularly emphasize  (Mt  25 ;  some  parallels).  All 
must  'take  up  the  cross'  and  'follow  Christ'  to 
the  uttermost  (Mk  8"  etc.  etc.).  The  last  com- 
mand addressed  to  a  friend  by  Christ,  like  the 
first,  is  '  follow  me '  (Jn  21'«-  -). 

The  question  has  been  raised  whether  Jesus' 
call  did  not  imply  a  sort  of  fanaticism  based  on  a 
mistaken  expectation  of  the  near  end  of  the  world. 
This  is  at  least  suggested  by  the  purely  eschato- 
logical  view  of  the  Kmgdom  of  God  (see  art.  KING- 
DOM OF  God,  below)  in  the  Gospels,  as  taught  by 
Bousset,  J.  Weiss,  and  others.  If  the  imputation 
of  fanaticism  were  historically  warranted,  all 
Christians  must  have  been  required  to  live  in  a 
fashion  possilile  only  to  the  first  few ;  tlie  call  to 
repent  must  have  been  swallowed  up  in  the  call  to 
share  the  Master's  wandering  life  ;  our  '  high 
calling'  (Ph  3"),  as  declared  by  Christ,  must  have 
been  deeply  tinged  with  delusion.  It  is  enough  to 
point  in  reply  to  women  friends  of  Jesus ;  to  homes 
whose  hospitality  He  consented  to  share ;  to  a  con- 
vert under  exceptional  circumstances  not  called 
nor  even  permitted  to  be  with  Christ,  hut  sent 
home  to  be  a  witness  there  (Mk  5'"  II  Lk  S^").  The 
grain  of  truth  in  this  heap  of  error  has  been  indi- 
cated above.  Our  Christian  calling  is  not  merely 
to  salvation,  it  is  to  service.  One  may  add,  that 
the  principles  of  the  Master's  own  teaching  are 
likely  to  reveal  lessons  of  severity  for  the  Chris- 
tian conscience  which  have  been  neglected  in  the 
past — to  the  great  loss  of  both  Church  and  world. 

LiTERATi'RE.— See  further,  for  (a),  the  present  writer's  Christ 
and  the  Jewish  Law  ;  A.  Ritschl.  .fustifx-atitin  and  Reconcilia- 
tion,   vnl.    iii.    (tmiT^htinnl    p.    11-:    r iMrT,.n,-r-pr,    .^etbslbe- 


Christnf}l,.t<.r,,,n,l  .,f  Ej,.,r ■,  ,  1-  .;,  p    '-,;|T.      IV,r  (6)  see 

for  (c)  and  {d)  compare  Eece  Hoiao,  ch.  6,  '  Christ's  Winnowinjr 
Fan'  [characteristically  dwelling  rather  on  the  inoral  aspects  of 
the  Divine  message] ;  also  Brace's  treatment  of  Mt  9»-13  and 
parallels  [notes  on  all  three  should  l.e  nad  iii  Exjjo.^.  Gr.  Testa- 
ment]. The  last  paragr-ipli  it  tlie  il... ,  irfi-o,  vrf.'rs  to  dis- 
cussions hegun  by  J.  w.i--  /.  .  /■  ;<  ,r  /.  ..  ,„  Reiche 
Gottes,  189'i;  Bousset,  .'.       ;  ■  ^iiz  zum 

J«[ie?l(i™,  1892 ;  cf.  als"       i  i  "       \.:i-hfolije 

Christi  und  die  Predi'jt  <!'  <■  '-     ■■'.    l^i.'  ;   -•  d  reply  m 

Harnack's  Wesen  des  Chnslnilhiim.'i.  l:niii  (traiisiation,  '  What 
is  Christianity?');  interesting  reference  to  such  views  and  to 
later  developments  in  Lewis  Muirhead's  Bruce  Lecture  on  '  The 
Eschatology  of  Jesus,'  1903. 

RoiiERT  Mackintosh. 
CALVARY.— See  Golgotha. 

CAMEL,  CAMEL'S  HAIR. -The  camel  is  by 
far  the  most  useful  of  all  animals  in  the  East. 
There  are  two  kinds  of  camels— the  Turkish  or 
Bactrian  camel  and  the  dromedary.  The  first  is 
larger,  has  a  double  hump,  and  is  capable  of  sus- 
taining greater  burdens  ;  the  latter  is  swifter,  has 
a  single  hump,  and  is  far  less  att'ected  by  extreme 
heat.  The  camel  has  been  domesticated  from 
time  immemorial ;  it  is  now  at  least  nowhere 
found  in  its  aboriginal  wild  state,  and  nature  has 
adapted  it  to  its  specific  environment.  Its  nostrils 
are  close  and  flat,  to  exclude  the  dust  of  the 
desert ;  its  feet  are  heavily  padded,  and  its  an- 
atomy shows  provision  for  the  enduring  of  great 
privation.  It  mocks  hunger  and  thirst  alike ;  it 
can  go  without  water  from  sixteen  to  forty  days. 

The  camel  forms  the  staple  wealth  of  the  Arab 
of  the  desert,  who  utilizes  every  part  of  the  animal, 
even  to  the  dung,  which  is  used  as  fuel.  Its  flesh 
was  forbidden  to  the  Jew  (Lv  11^  Dt  14').  Its 
milk  is  extremely  nutritious,  and  on  fermentation 
becomes  an  intoxicant.     A  thick  mat  of  fine  hair 


CANA 


CANAANITISH 


protects  the  animal  against  the  extremes  alike  of 
heat  and  cold. 

The  camel  is  mentioned  three  times  in  the 
C4ospels,  on  two  occasions  as  a  synonym  for  size 
or  bulkiness;  Mt  19=^  (  =  Mk  10-^  Lk  18"-'),  'It 
is  easier  for  a  camel  to  go  through  a  needle's  eye, 
than  for  a  rich  man  to  enter  into  the  kingdom 
of  God  ' ;  and  23-^  '  Ye  blind  guides,  which  strain 
out  the  gnat,  and  swallow  the  camel.'  In  the 
former  of  these  passages  two  attempts  have  been 
made  to  evade  the  Oriental  hyperbole,  firstly,  by 
reading  ko/iiXos,  'a  rope,'  for  Kifj.r)\os ;  and,  again, 
by  explaining  the  '  eye  of  the  needle '  as  the 
small  door  for  foot-passengers  which  is  generally 
made  in  the  frame  of  the  large  entrance-door  of 
an  Eastern  house.  The  expression  'eye  of  the 
needle,'  however,  is  only  the  English  equivalent 
of  the  Greek  words  denoting  a  '  hole.'  The  eye  of 
a  needle  stands  for  something  narrow  and  hard  to 
pass,  as  in  the  Egyptian  proverb,  '  Straiter  than 
the  eye  of  a  needle  '  (Burckhardt,  396).  A  similar 
proverb  is  given  by  Freytag  (ii.  p.  19),  '  Narrower 
than  the  shadow  of  a  lance  and  than  tlie  hole  of  a 
needle.'  And  in  the  Koran  we  have  (vii.  38),  'As 
for  those  who  declare  our  signs  to  be  lies,  and  who 
scorn  them,  the  doors  of  heaven  will  not  be  open 
to  them,  nor  will  they  enter  Paradise,  until  a 
camel  shall  penetrate  into  the  eye  of  a  needle  '-^ 
that  is,  never. 

In  the  second  of  the  two  passages  above,  the 
camel  is  contrasted  with  the  gnat,  '  Ye  blind 
guides,  whicli  strain  out  a  gnat,  and  drink  down 
a  camel.'  The  gnat  stands  for  an  emblem  of 
smallness  in  the  Koran  (ii.  '24,  '  God  is  not 
ashamed  to  strike  a  proverb  out  of  a  gnat ').  In 
Arabic  the  elephant  rather  than  the  camel  is 
chosen  to  designate  hugeness,  as  in  the  song  of 
Kaab  ibn  Zuheir — 

*  If  there  stood  in  the  place  which  I  stand  in  an  elephant, 


and  the  camel  is  an  emblem  of  patience  and  silent 
endurance,  and  goes  by  the  name  of  '  the  father  of 
Job.'  The  elephant  must  have  been  a  not  un- 
familiar object  in  Palestine  in  the  first  century, 
but  would  naturally  be  thought  of  in  connexion 
with  Hellenism  ancl  idolatry. 

Camel's  hair  or  wool,  as  it  is  called,  is  woven  by 
the  Arabs  into  tent-covers,  and  also  into  rough 
outer  garments  for  the  peasantry.  In  Israel  this 
coarse  mantle  was  the  badge  of  the  prophet  (Zee 
13*  'The  prophets  shall  be  ashamed  eacli  one  of 
his  vision,  when  he  prophesieth  ;  and  they  will  no 
more  wear  a  hairy  garment  in  order  to  deceive ') ; 
and  in  2  K  1"  Elijah  is  described  as  being  an 
'  owner  of  hair '  {ilia  Sys,  that  is,  wearing  this 
garment  of  the  prophets ;  AV,  '  an  hairy  man '), 
and  girt  with  leather.  As  the  successor  of  Elijah 
and  of  the  prophets,  John  the  Baptist  adopted  the 
same  dress  (Mt  3*,  Mk  1*).  It  is  generally  sup- 
posed that  the  Oriental  mystic  or  siifi  is  so  named 
from  his  dress  of  wool  (siif) ;  cf .  Rev  1  P. 

T.  H.  Weik  and  Henry  E.  Dosker. 

CANA  (Kara  TTjs  Va\t\aias)  is  mentioned  four 
times  in  the  Fourth  Gospel.  It  was  the  scene  of 
our  Lord's  first  miracle  (Jn  2i- ") ;  the  place  to 
which  '  a  certain  king's  oflicer  (/SacriXiK^j),  whose  son 
was  sick  at  Capernaum,'  came  to  find  Jesus  (4'"') ; 
and  the  native  place  of  the  disciple  Nathanael 
(21^).  After  the  miracle,  Jesus  '  went  down ' 
(KaTi^rf)  to  Capernaum  ;  and  the  king's  officer  be- 
sought him  to  'come  down'  (rara/Sj)  to  heal  his 
son.  Those  references  place  Cana  of  Galilee  on 
higher  ground  than  Capernaum.  There  is  no 
other  direct  evidence  as  to  its  position. 

Josephus  states  ( Vita,  16)  that  he  resided  for  a 
*inie  'in  a  village  of  Galilee  which  is  named  Cana.' 
From  this  village  he  made  a  descent  during  the 


night  upon  Tiberias  (17).  Later  (41)  he  speaks  of 
residing  in  the  great  plain,  the  name  of  which 
was  Asochis.  If  these  residences  are  one  and  the 
same  place,  the  Cana  of  Josephus  may  well  be 
Khirbet  Kana  or  Kanat  el-Jelll,  on  the  N.  slojjes 
of  the  plain  of  Buttauf,  and  about  8  miles  N.  of 
Nazareth.  This,  However,  would  not  decide  the 
site  of  St.  John's  Cana.  [The  Kaxd  oiAnt.  XV.  v.  1 
should  be,  according  to  BJ  l.  xix.  1,  Karaed]. 

Etymology  and  tradition  are  divided  between 
the  above  mentioned  site  on  the  plain  of  Buttauf 
and  Kefr  Kenna,  a  hamlet  on  the  direct  road  to 
the  lake,  and  about  3A  miles  N.E.  of  Nazareth, 
where  there  is  a  fine  spring.  Etymology  certainly 
favours  Khirbet  ^ana,  the  doubling  of  the  medial 
'nun'  being  against  Kefr  Kenna.  Tradition  is 
indecisive.  The  references  in  Placentinus  (/<in.  4), 
Phocas,  John  of  Wiirzburg,  Quaresmius  (Eliici- 
dationes,  ii.  852  f.),  etc.,  favour  Kef r  Kenna,  where 
the  monks  of  the  Greek  and  Latin  Churches  have 
considerable  ecclesiastical  properties.  On  the 
other  hand,  the  notices  of  Theodosius  (A.D.  530), 
Saewulf,  Brocardus,  Fetellus,  Marinus  Sanutus 
(p.  253),  and  others,  suit  the  northern  site. 

In  later  times,  Robinson  (BRF'  ii.  348  f.,  iii.  108) 
supports  the  claims  of  Khirbet  Kc'ttia,  and  is  fol- 
lowed by  Ritter,  Thomson,  Ewald,  Socin,  Keim, 
and  others.  Eusebius  and  Jerome  (Onom.  s.v. 
Kava)  identify  Cana  with  Kanah*  in  Asher  (Jos 
19-*).  This  could  not  be  Kefr  Kenna,  which  is  not 
in  Asher,  but  might  be  Khirbet  Kana  {Encyc. 
Bibl.  i.  638).  Other  recent  writers  contend  for 
Kefr  Kenna,  among  whom  are  Guerin,  de  Saulcy, 
Porter,  Tristram,  etc.  The  balance  of  evidence  is 
perhaps  on  the  side  of  the  northern  site  (Hastings' 
DB  i.  346'').  Conder  [PEF  Mem.  i.  288)  suggests 
as  a  possible  site  a  spot  nearer  to  Nazareth  than 
Kefr  Kenna,  called '.^  ire  Kana,  and  not  far  from 
Reineh.  Dr.  Sanday  appears  to  support  this,  and 
claims  Guthe  as  agreeing  {Saered  Sites,  24  n.). 

Literature.  —  Hastings'  DB  i.  346 ;  Encyc.  Bibl.  i.  637  ; 
Robinson,  BRPi  ii.  348  f.,  iii.  108;  Conder,  PEF  Mem.  i.  288; 
Stanley,  SP  368 ;  Gu6rin,  GaliUe,  i.  175  ff. ;  Thomson,  Land  and 
Boot,  426  f.;  Tristram,  Lando/'/srarf,  455;  Socin,  Pa(.  368, 367  ; 
Murray,  Pal.  366;  Buhl,  OAP  219  f.  ;  Ewald,  Gesch.  vi.  180  n. ; 
Keim,  Jesus  of  A'azara,  iv.  116  n.  ;  Ritter,  Comp.  Geogr.  iv. 
378  f.  A.  W.  COOKE. 

CANAANITE.— See  Canan^an. 

CANAANITISH.— The  RV  rendering  of  Xa^araia 
(AV  '  of  Canaan ')  in  Mt  15-  (only  here  in  NT). 
The  word  is  used  to  describe  the  woman  who 
came  out  of  the  borders  of  Tyre  and  Sidon,  desiring 
to  have  her  daughter  healed  who  was  grievously 
vexed  with  a  devil.  St.  Mark  (7"*)  calls  her  a 
Greok('EXX7/vis),a  Syro-phoenician(2K/)o0oii/iKi<ro-a)  by 
race.  A  Canaanite,  signifying  properly  '  dweller 
d  in  a  wider  or  a  na 


the  lowland,'  is  used 
meaning  in  the  OT,  Canaan  being  a  name  applied 
either  to  the  strip  of  seacoast  from  Gaza  to  Sidon, 
or,  more  loosely,  to  the  whole  possession  of  Israel, 
or  that  part  which  lay  west  of  Jordan  (Gn  10'"; 
cf.  Jos  51,  Nu  n-\  Gu  Ipi).  The  LXX  renders 
Canaanite  (":y»)  indifl'erently  by  ^olmi  and  XavaK- 
aios  (Ex  6'^  Jos  5',  Nu  13=»-  W,  Jg  !*>-»,  while  in 
Ex  16**  and  Jos  S^-  we  find  ]m  \lf  tr.  by  /aepos  Tn% 
<j>oii'/ki;s  and  xi^P"-  '''""  ^oi.vIkoii'.  These  coast  in- 
habitants being  the  great  traders  of  the  old  world, 
'  Canaanite  '  or  '  Phoenician '  was  often  used  simply 
to  mean  'a  merchant'  (Is  23*  [LXX  IfiiropoiJ,  and 
cf.  Hos  12',  Zeph  1"). 

The  woman  who  came  to  our  Lord  was  a 
'Canaanite'  in  the  sense  that  she  belonged  to 
the  stock  of  the  old  Phoenicians  of  Syria  termed 
'  Syro-phoenician  '  to  distinguish  them  from  those 
of  Africa.    These  were  heathen,  and  between  them 


CANAXiEAX 


CANDLESTICK 


and  the  Jews  existed  the  hitteiest  hostility ;  see 
Jos.  c.  Apion.  i.  13  (who  mentions  the  Phoenicians, 
especially  of  Tyre,  with  the  Egyptians  as  bearing 
the  greatest  ill-\\ill  towards  the  Jews).  This  fact 
makes  instructive  a  comparison  between  our  Lord's 
treatment  of  this  woman  and  His  dealing  with  the 
woman  of  Samaria ;  cf.  especially  Jn  4'  with  Mt 
15=«.  The  Clementines  [Horn.  ii.  19,  iii.  73)  men- 
tion her  by  the  name  of  Justa,  and  maintain  that 
the  Lord  hrst  won  her  from  heathendom,  and  after 
that  was  able  to  heal  her  daughter,  whose  name  is 
given  as  Bernice.* 

Ltterature.— The  Commentaries  on  the  Gospels,  esp.  Swete 
on  Mk  726;  the  articles  in  Hastings'  DB  and  the  Encyc.  Bibl.: 
Trench,  Miracles,  ad  loc;  Edersheim,  Life  and  Times  of  Jesus 
the  Messiah,  ii.  37  £f.;  Expos.  Times,  iv.  [1892)  p.  SO'ff. ;  W. 
Archer  Butler,  Serm,  i.  155  flE. ;  Lynch,  Serm.  to  my  Curates, 
p.  3I7ff. ;  Ker,  Serm.,  2nd  ser.  p.  200 £E. ;  Bruce,  Galilean  Gospel, 

P- 154  ff.  J.  B.  Bristow. 

CSNAN^AN.— •  Cananfean '  (RV,  following  the 
reaiHng  Kamfa'ios  adopted  by  Lachmann,  Tischen- 
dorf,  Tregelles,  WH,  and  modern  scholars  gener- 
ally) or  Canaanite  (AV,  following  the  TR  reading 
Kacai/iTjjs)  is  a  description  applied  by  St.  Matthew 
(ion  and  St.  Mark  (S^')  in  their  lists  of  the 
Twelve  to  the  second  of  the  two  Apostolic  Simons, 
who  is  thus  distinguished  from  Simon  Peter. 
There  tan  be  no  doubt  that  'Canaanite,'  which 
means  an  inhaliitant  of  Canaan,  is  a  false  render- 
ing. The  Gr.  for  Canaan  is  Xai^adi'  (Ac  7"  13'''), 
and  for  Canaanite,  Xacamios  (Mt  lo-")  not  Kavai'iT-rj's. 
Transliterating  the  KaraWT-Tjs  of  the  TR,  the  AV 
should  have  .spelled  the  word  'Cananite,'  as  indeed 
was  done  in  the  Geneva  Version,  and  in  some  edi- 
tions of  the  AV,  though  not  in  tliat  of  1611.  But 
it  is  practically  certain  that  Kava»aios  (wliich  in 
the  text  of  Mk.  especially  is  very  strongly  suji- 
ported,  e.ff.  by  NBCDLA)  is  the  correct  reading. 
The  word  seems  to  be  a  construction  from  the 
[ilural  form  k;J!<JB  of  the  late  Heb.  IN|P,  correspond- 
ing to  the  Biblical  njb,  'jealous'  (see  Schiirer, 
HJP,  I.  ii.  80  f .  ;  and  note  that  the  noun  nmp, 
which  in  the  Heb.  text  of  the  OT  is  used  in  the 
sense  of  '  zeal '  as  well  as  of  '  jealousy,'  is  sometimes 
rendered  in  tlie  LXX  by  fvXos  [Is  9«  26"]).  This  is 
1x)rne  out  by  the  fact  that  St.  Luke,  on  the  two 
which  he  gives  a  list  of  the  Apostles 


show  that  the  two  epithets  are  synonymous. 

Jerome,  who  in  the  Vulg.  .-ulni.ts  the  form 
'Cananajus,'  in  his  Com.  in  Mutt,  interprets  it  'de 
vico  Chana  Galihoa-';  and  he  has  Ijocn  followed 
by  many  srhulars  in  modern  times,  who  have 
taken  the  name  to  be  a  corruption  of  Kai-aios,  and 
to  mean  '  a  man  of  Cana,  probably  Cana  in 
Galilee.  This  view,  however,  now  obtains  little 
support,  though  Cheyne  {Encyc.  Bibl.  ii.  col.  2624, 
iv.  col.  4535)  appears  to  favour  it.  Meyer  (Com. 
on  Matt.,  in  loc),  while  holding  that  the  form  of 
the  word  makes  the  derivation  from  Cana  impos- 
sible, maintains  that  it  is  nevertheless  'derived 
from  the  name  of  some  place  or  other ' ;  and 
would  ex])lain  its  use  in  Mt.  and  Mk.  froin  the 
fact  that  Simon,  as  a  quondam  zealot,  '  bore  the 
surname  "jkjp,  fTjXan-iJs,  a  name  which  was  correctly 
interpreted  by  Luke ;  but,  according  to  another 
tradition,  was  erroneously  derived  from  the  name 
of  a  place,  and  accordingly  came  to  be  rendered 
6  Kavai/aros.'  This  is  ingenious,  but  seems  need- 
lessly far-fetched.  It  is  quite  arbitrary,  too,  to  say 
that  the  form  Kavavaloi  must  be  derived  f;om  the 
name  of  a  place.  The  termination  -oios  is  common 
in  the  Grecized  rendering  of  names  of  sects  {e.g. 
•Papuraios,  SaSSoi/xaios,  'Ea<raiOS  ;  see  Grinim-Thayer, 
*  X«.av«7ot  is  to  be  distinguished  from  K«>«..tw,  TR  K«.«.«;i.- 
(Mt  IfH),  which  means  a  Zealot,  and  is  llie  designation  of  the  i 
.Apostle  Siuiou.    See  Canasaai;.  ' 


Lexicon,  s.v.  Koi'ai'aros).  And  Koi-avoios  from  n.-JN},:! 
is  as  natural  as  ^apio-aios  from  k;b^-!S,  stat.  emphat. 
of  Aramaic  iT'l?  for  Heb.  c'»n?  (see  Schiirer,  HJP 
II.  ii.  19).  J.  C.  Lambert. 

CANDLE.— Candles  were  not  much  in  use  in  an 
oil-bearing  country  like  Palestine,  and  are  not 
referred  to  in  the  Bible.  But  the  word  occurs 
in  the  AV  8  times  as  the  translation  of  Xi'/xi-os 
('lamp') ;  and  \vxvla.  ('lampstand')  is  always  trans- 
lated 'candlestick.'  [On  the  other  hand,  Xaixva's, 
which  is  generally  translated  by  its  derivative 
'  lamp,'  should  be  rendered  either  '  torch '  or  '  lan- 
tern ' ;  for  it  generally  refers  to  a  lamp  which 
could  be  carried  out  of  doors  (Mt  25'^-,  Jn  18',  and 
even  Ac  20"*,  where  the  Xa/i7rd5fs  iKaval  may  have 
been  torches  that  had  been  brought  in  by  those 
who  had  assembled  by  night),  thus  corresponding 
to  Heb.  TsS]. 

The  Xiix^o!  (Heb.  ij,  I'l,  the  latter  used  only  in  a 
figurative  sense)  was,  as  a  rule,  an  earthenware 
vessel,  like  a  tiny  flat  teapot,  with  a  flaxen  wick 
(Mt  12=")  in  the  spout,  and  supplied  with  oil 
(mostly  from  olives,  but  also  from  sesame,  nuts, 
radishes,  or  fish),  through  a  hole  in  the  centre, 
from  an  a-fyeiov  (Mt  25*)  or  other  vessel.  It  could 
either  be  carried  about  (Lk  15')  or  set  on  a  stand 
(Mk  4='  etc.).  For  illustrations  of  lamps  see 
Hastings'  DB,  vol.  iii.  p.  34. 

In  the  teaching  of  the  Son  of  Man  the  illumi- 
nating sign  of  God's  presence  in  the  world  is 
human  example  and  pcr.wnnl  witness,  as,  e.gr.,  in 
the  ministry  of  John  the  Baptist  (Jn  5").  The 
Christian  life  is  to  be  one  that  lightens  and  kindles 
others  (Mk  4='),  and  points  men  to  the  'Father  of 
lights'  (Mt  5'«).  It  must,  therefore,  first  be  itself 
lit.  That  is  the  key  to  the  difficult  passage  in  Mt 
6--'-,  Lk  ll**'-  Light  may  be  everywliere,  yet  it  is 
of  no  use  unless  received  by  the  eye,  which  is  the 
lamp  of  the  body.  Sin  makes  a  man  see  dimly  or 
double,  and  must  be  renounced  with  an  undivided 
mind  if  the  life  is  to  be  illumined  with  Divine  truth 
and  love (i'ayos.,  2nd  ser.  i.  [18Slj252fl'.  ;  cf.  18011"., 
372  tf.). 

But  one  other  important  quality  Christ  illus- 
trated by  the  use  of  the  lamp,  viz.  watchfulness. 
It  was  the  custom  in  private  houses,  as  well  as  in 
the  temple,  to  keep  famjjs  burning  through  the 
night  (Pr  31'*).  So,  in  view  of  the  subtlety  and 
suddenness  of  temptation  and  trial,  the  disciple 
must  have  his  loins  girded  and  his  lamp  lit  (Lk 
12»).  The  parable  of  the  Ten  Virgins  with  their 
XainrdSes  teaches  a  similar  lesson.  Of  Christ  as  the 
Lamb  it  is  said  that  He  is  Himself  the  lamp  {Xvxvo!) 
of  the  Holy  City  (Rev  21=3). 

A.  Norman  Rowland. 

CANDLESTICK.-In  RV  of  the  Gospels  this  word 
is  without  exception  correctly  changed  into  '  stand,' 
Xvxfla  being  the  stand  which  held  the  little  oil- 
fed  lamp.  It  might  mean  anything  from  a  laxuri- 
ous  candelabrum,  generally  of  wood  covered  with 
metal,  to  a  bit  of  stonework  projecting  from  a 
cottage  wall.  It  was  to  the  lampstand  in  lowly 
domestic  use  (cf.  2  K  4'")  that  Christ  referred  in 
ilk  4='  as  being  necessary  to  complete  the  value 
of  the  lamp  for  those  in  the  house  (Mt  5'*)  and 
those  who  enter  it  (Lk  8'«  11^).  And  the  lesson  is 
that  if  we  have  received  a  truth  or  a  ioy  through 
Christ,  who  is  the  Light  of  the  World,  it  is  coni- 
mon  sense  and  common  justice  not  to  hide  it  in 
fear  or  selfishness,  but  to  use  it  as  a  means  of 
illustrating  our  Father  God  and  illumining  those 
around  us  (Mt  5'*).  Practical  illustrations  of  this 
parable  are  found  in  MkS''-^",  Mt  10^-'=,  Lk  10" 
17"*  (cf.Lk  156- »■'-). 

LiTERATrRE.— Maclaren,  God  of  the  Amen,  p.  293;  Expoeilor, 
2nd  ser.  i.  [18S1]  pp.  ISOfl.,  252 ff.,  372(T.,  Bth  ser.  271  ff. 

A.  NOU.MAN  Rowland. 


CAPERNAUM 


CAPERNAUM 


CAPERNAUM.- 


I  and  Bethsaida. 
S.  References  in  NT. 
(i.  History. 

Literature. 

The  question  as  to  the  position  of  Capernaum  is 
of  great  importance  for  the  Gospel  story.  It  is 
the  pivot  on  which  hinges  the  determination  of 
tlie  scene  of  the  greater  part  of  our  Lord's  active 
ministrj'.  The  three  places,  Capernaum,  Chorazin, 
and  Bethsaida,  must  all  be  taken  together,  and 
they  must  in  any  case  be  not  far  from  the  Plain  of 
Gennesaret.  This  plain  is  undoubtedly  the  modern 
el-Ghuweir  (i.e.  'the  little  Ghor'  or  'hollow'); 
there  is  also  no  doubt  that  Chorazin  is  the  modern 
Ker&zeh.  Tlie  present  article  is  written  in  the 
belief  that  Capernaum  is  Tell  HUm  (which  is  the 
view  of  the  majority  of  scholars),  and  that  Beth- 
saida was  the  port  (now  called  el-Araj),  on  tlxe 
Lake,  of  Bethsaida  Julias  (et-Tell). 

1.  The  Name.— The  correct  form  of  the  name  is 
undoubtedly  Ka0appaoi5/x.  Tliis  is  found  in  all  the 
oldest  authorities  to  the  end  of  the  4th  cent.  (Evv. 
codd.  opt.  ;  Verss.  antiq.  Latt.  Syrr.  ^gypt.  Gotli.; 
Jos.  BJ,  Onomast.  Euseb.  Hieron.).  The  spelling 
Kairepmoiti.  begins  to  appear  in  the  5tli  cent.,  but 
after  that  date  rapidly  covered  the  ground.  In 
Josephus  ( Vita,  §  72),  mention  is  made  of  a  village 
the  name  of  which  Niese  prints  as  KetpappaKdf,  but 
tliere  are  many  various  readings,  and  the  text  is 
pretty  certainly  corrupt.  The  exact  relation  of 
the  ancient  name  to  the  modern  does  not  work  out 
very  clearly.  It  is  easy  to  understand  liow  C'aphar 
(mod.  .ff'c/r=' village'),  as  a  liabitation  of  living 
men,  might  become  Tell  in  the  sense  of  '  a  heap  of 
ruins'  (strictly  =  ' mound,'  but  there  is  no  mound 
on  the  site).  But  tliere  are  difficulties  in  tlie  way 
of  regarding  Hitm  as  a  contraction  for  '  Nahuni ' ; 
and  some  good  philologists  (Buhl,  op.  cit.  inf.,  cf. 
Socin,  Guthe,  ib. )  prefer  to  regard  Tell  Hiim  as  a 
corruption  of  Tenhihn  or  Tank  urn,  which  occurs  in 
Jewish  authorities. 

2.  Description  of  the  localities.— Tlie  beautiful 
riain  of  Gennesaret  is  closed  on  the  north-east  by 
a  spur  of  the  hills  which  slopes  do^vn  gradually  to 
the  Lake.  In  the  hollow  formed  by  this,  on  the 
rising  ground  where  the  caravan-route  begins  to 
ascend  tlie  ridge,  is  the  ruined  khdn  of  Khdn 
Minyeh.  On  the  low  ground  beneath,  and  also  on 
the  ridge  above,  tliere  are  a  few  more  inconspicuous 
remains ;  and  between  the  khAn  and  the  Lake  is 
a  fountain  ('Ain  et-Tin).  Rounding  the  little  pro- 
montory, on  which  is  a  German  hospice,  we  come 
to  a  bay,  on  tlie  further  side  of  which  is  a  group 
of  springs.  One  of  these  is  described  by  Sir  Charles 
Wilson  as  '  by  far  the  largest  spring  in  Galilee, 
and  estimated  to  be  more  tlian  half  the  size  of  the 
celebrated  source  of  the  Jordan  at  Banias'  {Re- 
covery, etc.  ii.  348).  The  waters  of  this  spring 
come  to  the  surface  with  great  force,  and,  after 
being  collected  in  a  strongly-built  reservoir,  they 
were  carried  by  an  aqueduct,  in  part  cut  through 
the  rock,  round  the  promontory  and  to  the  rear  of 
Khdn  Minyeh ;  from  thence  they  were  used  to 
irrigate  the  plain.  The  modern  name  of  this 
fountain  is  'Ain  et-J'dbigha.  The  ancient  name 
was  '  Seven  Fountains '  \ltin.  Hieros.  ed.  Vindob. 
p.  138)  or  Heptapegon  (of  which  et-Tdbigha  is  an 
eclio).  A  full  mile  and  a  half,  or  two  Roman 
miles  farther,  are  the  ruins  of  Tell  Hum.  These 
cover  a  considerable  extent  of  ground,  lialf  a  mile 
in  length  by  a  quarter  in  breadth.  The  houses 
generally  were  built  of  blocks  of  black  basalt.  A 
single  public  building  of  larger  size  (74  ft.  9  in. 

x56  ft.  9  in.)  w.os  of  white  limestone.  This  is 
commonly  identified  with  the  synagogue. 


ome  doubt  as  to  its 

to  notice  in  Galilee, 
1  have  inscriptions  in 
in  connexion  with  a 


there  can  be  none.    Two  of  those  bull 

Hebrew  over  their  i 

seven-branched    candlestick, 

paschal  lamb,  and  all  without  exception  are  constructed  after 

a  fixed  plan,  which  is  totally  different  from  that  of  any  church, 

temple,  or  mosque  in  Palestine '  (Wilson,  Ilecovery,  etc.  ii.  344). 


Two  Roman  miles  up  the  course  of  a  stream 
which  enterst  he  Lake  just  beyond  Tell  Hum,  are 
ruins  which  bear  the  name  of  Kcrdzeh  ;  but  between 
Tell  Hum,  and  the  mouth  of  the  Jordan  there  are 
no  more  ruins  and  no  special  features.  Across  the 
Jordan  a  little  way  back  from  its  mouth,  is  et-Tell, 
which  is  now  generally  held  to  mark  the  site  of 
Bethsaida  Julias.  Tliis  was  in  ancient  times  con- 
nected by  a  paved  causeway  with  a  cluster  of 
ruins  on  the  shore  of  the  Lake,  now  known  as 
el-'Araj. 

3.  Identification. — It  will  be  seen  that  there  is 
really  not  very  much  choice.  Chorazin  is  cer- 
tainly KerAzeh,  and  Bethsaida  Julias,  built  by  the 
tetrarch  Philip,  is  pretty  certainly  et-Tell.  The 
alternatives  for  Capernaum  are  thus  practically  re- 
duced to  Khdn  Minyeh  and  Tell  Ifum.  And  the 
broad  presumption  must  be  in  favour  of  the  latter, 
as  Capernaum  was  no  doubt  the  most  important 
place  at  this  end  of  the  Lake,  and  the  ruins  are 
here  far  more  extensive  than  those  at  Khdn 
Minyeh,  as  well  as  demonstrably  ancient.  The 
khdn  at  Khdn  Minyeh  appears  to  have  been  built 
in  the  16th  cent.  (Sepp,  op.  cit.  inf.  p.  165), 
though  the  place  name  first  occurs  in  the  time  of 
Saladin. 

Is  this  broad  presumption  overruled  by  any 
decisive  consideration?  A  few  minor  arguments 
have  been  adduced  against  it.  Capernaum  was  a 
place  where  tolls  were  collected  (Mk  2"  ||),  and  it 
is  thought  that  this  would  be  more  natural  on  the 
main  caravan  road :  but  a  place  of  the  size  of 
Tell  Hum  must  in  any  case  have  had  its  tolls,  and 
there  was  certainly  a  road  along  the  north  end  of 
the  Lake  leading  to  Bethsaida  Julias  (Guthe).  The 
bay  of  et-Tdbigha  is  much  frequented  by  fish,  and 
the  beach  'is  suitable  for  mooring  boats.  But  there 
is  little,  if  any,  trace  of  ruins  that  are  not  quite 
modern.  The  ruins  about  Khdn  Minyeh  are  also 
inconsiderable,  though  further  excavation  is  needed 
to  bring  out  their  real  character. 

The  point  that  seemed  for  a  time  to  outweigh 
all  the  rest  turned  upon  the  position  of  the  fountain. 
Josephus,  who  is  our  earliest  and  best  authority, 
expressly  says  that  the  Plain  of  Gennesaret  was 
watered  by  the  fountain  of  Capernaum  (BJ  III.  x.  8). 
The  only  fountain  to  which  this  statemeut  can  apply 
is  that  of  et-fdbigha.  There  areother  fountains,  but 
none  of  them  could  be  said  in  any  sense  to  irrigate 
the  plain  as  in  ancient  times  this  fountain  certainly 
did.  This  indication  might  seem  prima  facie  to 
support  the  claims  of  Khun  Minyeh.  The  fountain 
is  a  short  mile  from  this  site,  and  two  short 
(Roman)  miles  from  Tell  Hum.  But  it  has  to  be 
remembered  that  these  large  villages  or  towns  on 
the  Sea  of  Galilee  had  each  its  'territory.'  Thus 
Josephus  speaks  of  the  'territory'  of  Hippos 
ClirTr)vq,  BJm.  iii.  1) ;  and  the 'Gerasene' demoniac 
(in  Mk  5'-"  Ii)  is  a  case  of  the  same  kind— the 
swine  were  not  feeding  in  the  town  itself  but  in 
its  territory.  In  like  manner  the  fountain  was 
situated  within  the  territory  of  Capernaum,  whether 
it  was  at  Khdn  Minyeh  or  at  Tell  Hiim. 

This  leaves  room  for  the  natural  presumption  to 
tell  in  favour  of  Tell  Hum.  And  the  identification 
is.  confirmed  by  the  'fact  that  the  pilgrim  Theo- 
dosius  (c.  530  A.D.),  coming  from  the  West,  arrived 
at  Heptapegon  before  he  came  to  Capernaum : 
tliis  lie  would  have  done  if  it  were  at  Tell  Hum, 
but  not  if  it  had   been   at  Khun  Minyeh   (Ittn. 


270 


CAPEENAr:\r 


CAPERNAUiM 


Micros,  p.  138;  cf.  JThSt  v.  44).  Other  indica- 
tions, wliether  Biblical  or  derived  from  the  narra- 
tives of  the  pilgrims,  are  all  indecisive. 

Just  for  a  time  there  was  a  certain  swing  of  tlie 

Eendulura  (which  may  be  said  to  have  reached  its 
eight  in  the  last  decade  of  the  last  century)  in 
favour  of  KMn  Mini/ch.  But  the  balance  of  tlie 
criticism  of  the  last  fifty  years  is  pretty  clearly 
on  the  side  of  Tell  Eiim.  But  absolutely  decisive 
results  can  only  be  obtained,  if  at  all,  by  thorough 
and  systematic  excavation. 

4.  Capernaum  and  Bethsaida. — The  two  ques- 
tions of  Capernaum  and  Bethsaida  are  so  closely 
connected,  that  a  word  should  be  added  upon  tlie 
latter.  The  onlj'  Bethsaida  in  these  parts  known 
to  general  history  is  that  of  which  Ave  have  just 

rken  as  located  at  et-Tell  to  the  east  of  the 
dan.  It  has  often  been  thought  necessary  to 
postulate  a  second  Bethsaida,  which  is  most  com- 
monly placed  at  the  bay  of  et-TAbigha.  The  main 
reasons  for  this  are  two.  (a)  In  Jn  12=',  the  Beth- 
saida of  the  Gospels  is  described  as  '  Bethsaida  of 
Galilee,'  whereas  Bethsaida  Julias  was,  strictly 
speaking,  in  Gaulanitis  (BJn.  ix.  1 ).  (b)  The  phrase 
fi's  t6  wepaf  in  Mk  6*^  seems  to  imply  that  Bethsaida 
was  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  Lake  to  the  scene  of 
the  Feeding  of  the  Five  Thousand.  These  reasons 
are,  however,  insufficient  to  warrant  the  invention 
of  a  second  Bethsaida  so  near  to  the  first,  and 
itself  so  wholly  hypothetical.  In  the  bay  of  ct- 
f&biaha  there  are  no  ruins  to  prove  its  existence. 
On  the  other  hand,  (o)  there  is  evidence  enough  to 
show  that  '  Galilee '  was  often  loosely  used  for  the 
country  east  of  Jordan  and  of  the  Lalce  (BJ II.  xx. 
4,  ni.  iii.  1  ;  Ant.  XVIII.  i.  1,  6) ;  and  the  geo- 
grapher Ptoleniseus  speaks  of  Bethsaida  Julias  as 
'in  Galilee,'  just  as  St.  John  does  (Buhl,  GAP 
p.  242).  Political  boundaries  were  so  shifting,  and 
the  adjustments  of  territory  in  these  little  princi- 
palities were  so  constantly  changed,  that  a  loose 
use  of  terms  grew  up,  and  the  more  familiar  names 
were  apt  to  displace  the  less  familiar.  (6)  The 
phrase  eit  rb  iripav  cannot  be  pressed  ;  it  might  be 
used  of  an  oblique  course  from  any  one  point  on 
the  shore  of  the  Lake  to  any  other :  Josephus  ( Vita, 
§  59)  uses  iieirepauiBrfv  of  taking  ship  from  Tiberias 
to  "Tarichese,  wliich  are  on  the  same  side  of  the 
Lake,  and  very  little  farther  from  each  other  than 
Bethsaida  from  the  scene  of  the  miracle. 

5.  References  in  the  Gospels. — So  far  as  our  Lord 
had  any  fixed  headquarters  during  His  Galilean 
ministry,  they  were  in  Capernaum.  It  is  called 
His  'own  city'  [iSia  ir6\i%)  in  Mt  9'.  The  same 
close  connexion  is  implied  by  the  special  reproach 
addressed  to  the  city  in  Mt  11=^  (  =  Lk  10'^).  The 
public  ministry,  in  'the  more  formal  sense,  was 
opened  here  by  the  call  of  the  four  leading  Apostles 
(Mk  l'«-2") ;  and  here,  too,  were  the  labours  ofAvhich 
we  have  a  graphic  and  typical  description  on  the 
Sabbath  that  followed  (Mk  1='-"||).  We  have  re- 
peated mention  of  a  particular  house  to  which  our 
Lord  resorted,  which  was  probably  St.  Peter's. 
During  the  early  part  of  His  ministry  He  must 
have  spent  much  time  here,  but  during  the  latter 
part  His  visits  can  have  been  only  occasional. 

Perhaps  we  should  be  right  in  inferring  from 
the  presence  of  the  'centurion'  (Mt  S'"-,  Lk  T-"") 
that  Herod  Antipas  had  a  small  garrison  here. 
St.  Luke  tells  us  that  this  centurion,  though  a 
GentUe,  had  buUt  the  synagogue  of  the  place.  Is 
it  too  sanguine  to  believe  that  this  was  the  very 
building  the  remains  of  which  are  still  most  con- 
spicuous among  the  ruins?  There  appears  to  be 
good  reason  for  the  view  that  they  are  really  the 
remains  of  a  synagogue.  A  comparison  with 
similar  buildings  elsewhere  in  Galilee  brings  out 
the  distinctive  features  of  the  ground  plan,  and 
the  presence  of  religious  emblems  seems  to  render 


this  probable.  The  richness  of  the  architecture 
(cf.  pi.  xvii.  in  the  present  \ATiter's  Sacred  Sites  oj 
the  Gospels)  may  seem  to  suggest  that  the  ruins 
date  from  the  palmy  days  of  Galileean  Judaism 
(A.D.  140-300),  and  Schiirer  refers  them  to  this 
period.  But  there  is  one  argument  that  perhaps 
points  in  a  different  direction.  There  was  a  syna- 
gogue at  Chorazin  hardly  less  elaborate  than  that 
at  Capernaum,  though  with  its  ornaments  cut  in 
the  black  basalt,  and  not  in  limestone  (Wilson, 
Eccovery,  ii.  3,  4,  7).  Now,  we  know  that  when 
Eusebius  wrote  his  Onomasticon,  the  site  of  Chor- 
azin was  already  'deserted'  {Onamast.,  ed.  Kloster- 
mann,  p.  174).  This  desertion  is  not  likely  to  have 
been  very  recent.  And  it  is  perhaps  after  all  more 
probable  that  elaborate  building  took  place  at  a 
time  when  Galilee  had  a  prince  of  its  own  \nt\i 
architectural  ambitions,  who  must  have  gathered 
around  him  a  number  of  skilled  artificers  at 
Tiberias.  The  Herods  were  all  builders ;  and  the 
period  of  their  rule  was  probably  that  in  which 
Galilee  enjoj'ed  the  greatest  material  prosperity. 

6.  Later  history.— From  A.D.  150  onwards  the 
shores  of  the  Sea  of  Galilee  Ijecame  a  stronghold 
of  Rabbinical  Judaism.  The  fanaticism  of  this 
district  would  not  tolerate  the  presence  of  Chris- 
tians ;  it  is  expressly  stated  by  Epiphanius  {E(er. 
XXX.  II  ;  cf.  Harnack,  Expansion  of  Christianity, 
ii.  261)  that  down  to  the  time  of  Constantine  no 
one  had  ever  dared  to  erect  a  church  either  at 
Nazareth  or  Capernaum,  or  at  other  places  men- 
tioned in  the  neighbourhood.  That  means  that 
there  must  have  oeen  a  complete  break  in  the 
Christian  tradition ;  so  that,  when  we  read  later 
that  a  church  was  built  on  the  supposed  site  of 
Peter's  house,  it  is  not  likely  that  the  guess  had 
any  real  authority  (It in.  Hicros.  pp.  112f.,  163, 
197).  Still  Capernaum  was  one  of  the  sacred 
places,  and  from  the  4th  cent,  onwards  it  was 
frequented  by  Christian  pilgrims.  Eusebius  (and 
Jerome  after  him)  mentions  the  place  as  on  the 
Sea  of  Gennesaret,  but  throws  no  further  light 
upon  it  beyond  fixing  its  distance  as  two  Roman 
miles  from  Chorazin  (Onomast.  pp.  120,  174).  We 
have  seen  that  Theodosius  came  to  it  from  Tiberias 
after  passing  through  Magdala  and  Seven  Foun- 
tains (It in.  Hieros.  p.  137  f. ).  Arculf us  (c.  670  A.D. ) 
did  not  enter  Capernaum,  but  saw  it  from  a  neigh- 
bouring height  stretching  along  the  Lake,  and  ob- 
served that  it  had  no  wall  (ih.  p.  273  f.).  The  nun 
who  tells  the  story  of  St.  Willibald  (c.  723  A.D.) 
makes  him  first  come  to  Cajiernaum,  then  to  Beth- 
saida, then  to  Corazaim,  ubi  Dominus  dcemoniacos 
curavit,  where  there  is  an  evident  confusion 
between  Chorazin  and  Gerasa  (mod.  Kcrsa),  the 
scene  of  the  healing  of  the  demoniac.  The  same 
blunder  occurs  in  the  anonymous  Life,  so  that 
it  probably  goes  back  to  St.  Willibald  himself 
(see  Tobler,  Descript.  Terr.  Sanct.  pp.  26,  63).  We 
have  seen  that  the  history  of  KhAn  Minyeh,  so  far 
as  we  can  trace  it,  belongs  to  the  Saracenic  and 
Turkish  periods.  Saladin  lialted  at  al-Munaja  in 
1189,  but  the  building  of  the  khdn  is  referred  by 
Sepp  to  Sinan  Pasha  under  Suleiman  the  Magnifi- 
cent (1496-1566). 

LrrzRATUEE.— The  most  important  descriptions  and  discus- 
sions are  as  follows : — On  the  side  o(  those  who  would  place 
Capernaum  at  Khdn  Minyeh  :  Robinson,  BRP^  ii.  403-408,  iii. 
344-3(i0 ;  Sepp,  Sem  Entdedmngen  (Munchen.  189«) ;  G.  A. 
Smith.  HGHL*p.  466,  and  in  Etui/c.  Biblica.  On  the  side  of 
those  who  identify  Capernaum  with  TeU  fltim :  W.  M.  Thomson, 
LB  (ed.  1901)  pp.  350-356,  cf.  also  359  f.  ;  Sir  Charles  Wilson, 
The  Recoeern  of  Jerusalem  (London,  1871),  ii.  375-387 ;  and  a 
solid  phalanx  of  the  most  judicious  German  writers,  e.g.  Furrer 
in  Schenkel'8  Bibel-lexikm  (1871) ;  Socin  (in  Baedeker's  PaU 
p.  2«1  f.) ;  Schurer,  GJV^  ii.  445  f. ;  Guthe,  Eunes  Bibelwiirter- 
huch,  and  elsewhere;  Buhl,  GAP  (1896)  pp.  223-225,  cf.  242. 
The  writer  of  this  article  gave  a  hesitatmg  adhesion  to  the 
fomur  view  in  Sacred  SiU»  of  the  Gospels  (Oxford,  1903),  but 
JThSt  for  Oct.  1093,  vol.  v.  pp.  42-48. 

W.  Sanday. 


retracted  that  c 


J 


CAPTATX 


CARE 


CAPTAIN.— I.  This  word  is  the  AV  rendering  of 
two  Greek  terms  in  the  Gospels:— (1)  x'^'opx?', 
properly  '  leader  of  a  thousand  (Jn  18'-,  RV  '  chief 
captain,'  EVm  'military  tribune';  see  also  Mk 
6-',  Ac  21"'-  ^--  ^-  ^  22-<-  '■"'•  ""•  28-  =»  SS'"-  "■  "•  >'•  '»•  2- 
24'-  ^--  23,  Rev  6"  W).  (2)  (7TpaT7)76s,  properly 
'  leader  of  an  army,'  '  general '  (Lk  22''-  "^ ;  see  also 

Ac,  41  524.  26). 

1,  x'^'apxi's  is  used  (a)  in  a  vague  general  sense 
of  a  superior  military  officer,  and  (6)  technically 
as  the  Greek  equivalent  of  the  Roman  praifectus 
or  trihunus  militum.  The  Roman  garrison  in  the 
citadel  at  Jerusalem,  consisting  of  a  cohort  (Ta7|Ua 
=  NT  (rnipa,  '  band '  [/caffijo-ro  yap  del  iir^  avrij^  rayfia 
'Pufiaiuv,  Jos.  BJ  V.  V.  8])  of  provincial  troops, 
Syrian  Greeks,  and  Samaritans,  whose  command- 
ant would  be  a  civis  Romanus  (Ac  22™),  while  they 
would  be  presented  with  tlie  Imperial  franchise  on 
their  discharge,  was  reinforced  during  the  Pass- 
over by  additional  troops  which  were  stationed  in 
one  of  the  Temple  buildings  (Mommsen,  Prov.  Bom. 
Emp.,  Eng.  tr.  ii.  186).  The  x'Xia/Jxos  is  also  called 
<t)povpa.pxos  by  Josephus(.^«<.  XV.  xi.  4,  XVIII.  iv.  3) ; 
see  Sehurer,  HJP  I.  ii.  55.  The  legion  consisting 
normally  of  6000  men,  the  six  tribuni  took  com- 
mand for  two  months  in  turn.  Palestine,  however, 
being  a  Roman  province  of  the  second  rank,  did 
not  possess  a  full  legionary  garrison.  Mommsen 
gives  its  strength,  at  a  subsequent  period,  as  con- 
sisting of  a  detachment  (ala)  of  cavalry  and  five 
cohorts  of  infantry,  or  about  3000  men. 

2.  aTpaTriybs  toO  Upov,  the  commandant  of  the 
Temple  Levites.  Josephus  mentions  the  '  captain ' 
{(TTpaT7]y6s)  of  the  Levitical  guard  in  the  time  of 
Claudius  {Ant.  XX.  vi.  2),  and  in  that  of  Trajan 
(BJ  VI.  V.  3).  Possibly  the  officers  (uTri/p^rai)  who 
assisted  in  the  arrest  of  Jesus  (Jn  18^,  cf.  V--  *') 
belonged  to  this  body.  This  'captain'  of  the 
Temple  (2  Mac  3*  6  TrpoaTAT-rr;  toO  !epoP)  is  mentioned 
in  Jer  20'  LXX  as  r)yoip.evos  and  in  Neh  If  as 
airivavTi  tov  oikov  tou  BeoD,  '  the  ruler  of  the  house 
of  God'  (Vulg.  princcjj.f  doinus  Dci  =  nir\  in  b"n 
Mishna,  Middoth  i.  §  2).  The  duty  of  this  '  captain 
of  the  mount  of  the  Temple '  was  to  keej]  order  in 
the  Temple,  visit  the  stations  of  the  guard  during 
the  night,  and  see  that  the  sentries  were  duly 
posted  and  alert.  He  and  his  immediate  subal- 
terns are  supposed  to  be  intended  by  the  '  rulers ' 
(fipxo^Tes)  mentioned  in  Ezr  9-  and  Neh.  passim 
(arpaTriyol  or  ipxavn^).  See  Schiirer,  HJP  II.  i.  258. 
The  chief  constable  of  this  priestly  corps  of  Temple 
police  was  naturally  himself  a  Levite. 

LiTERATURB —Josephus,  Ant  X  viii.  5,  xv  xi.  4,  xviii.  iv,  3, 
XX  vi.  2,  BJ  V.  V.  8,  VI.  V.  3 ;  Sehurer,  HJP  i.  ii.  55,  11.  i.  258 ; 
Hastings'  DB,  article  '  Captain." 

P.  Henderson  Aitken. 

II.  Besides  these  two  military  or  semi-military 
uses  of  '  captain '  in  the  Gospels,  we  have  to  notice 
the  employment  of  the  term  as  a  title  for  Christ 
in  He  2"  (AV  and  RVm)  and  122  (RVm).  In  both 
cases  the  corresponding  word  in  the  Greek  text  is 
dpx')76s,  a  word  which  otherwise  is  found  in  the 
NT  only  in  Ac  3'^  5^'  (both  times  in  Acts  applied 
to  Christ,  and  in  each  case  rendered  '  Prince,  with 
'  Author '  as  a  marginal  alternative  in  3'°). 

In  accordance  with  its  derivation  (apxh  and 
riyiop.ai),  apxny6s  originally  meant  a  leader,  and  so 
naturally  came  to  be  applied  to  a  prince  or  chief. 
From  this  the  transition  was  easy  to  the  further 
meaning  of  a  first  cause  or  autlior,  which  is  uot 
infrequent  in  the  jiliilosophical  writers.  For  the 
'  Captain '  of  AV  in  He  2'",  RV  substitutes  '  author,' 
giving  '  captain '  in  the  margin  ;  and  in  12-  botli 
VSS  have  'author,' though  RV  again  gives  'cap- 
tain '  as  a  marginal  rendering. 

But  when  Jesus  is  called  apxnyii^  rijs  <ruTT]pla.s 
{2^"),  the  meaning  is  not  merely  that  He  is  the 
Author  of   our  salvation.      The  context  suggests 


that  the  idea  of  a  leader  going  before  his  saved 
ones  (cf.  6-'")  ought  to  be  adhered  to  (see  Davidson, 
Hebrews,  nd  loc).  Similarly  when  He  is  called  t^s 
Trlarem  apxnyb^  (12=),  the  idea  is  that  of  one  who 
has  led  the  way  along  the  path  of  faith.  In  both 
cases  the  term  '  Captain '  may  be  unsuitable,  since 
it  is  apt  to  suggest  military  images  which  had  no 
place  in  the  writer's  mind;  but  'leader,'  at  all 
events,  should  be  retained,  since  the  idea  of  leader- 
ship and  not  of  authorship  seems  best  to  express 
his  purpose  (see  Bruce,  Expositm-,  3rd  ser.  viii. 
[1888J  p.  451).  For  a  full  treatment  of  the  subject 
in  its  apologetic  and  homiletie  aspects,  Bruce's 
chapter  on  '  The  Captain  of  Salvation '  (op.  cit. 
pp.  447-461)  should  be  read  in  whole. 

Literature.— The  Lexicons  of  Grimm-Thayer  and  Crenier, 
s.v. ;  W.  R.  Smith  in  Expos.  2nd  ser.  [18S1]  ii.  422;  D.  Brown, 
ib.  5th  ser.  [1895]  ii.  434  ff.  See  also  C.  J.  Vaughan,  F.  Rendall, 
and  B.  F.  VVestcott  on  He  210  ;  j.  a.  Selbie  in  Hastings'  DB  iv. 
102»  ;  and  F.  H.  Chase,  CredibiUty  of  the  Acts,  129  f. 

J.  C.  Lambert. 

CARE  (p.iptp.va,  fi,epip.vdw,  ptiXu,  (Wi/j-eXiopiai). — The 
teaching  of  Jesus  on  care  has  been  slightly  obscured 
for  English  readers  of  the  NT  by  the  change  in 
meaning  through  which  this  word  and  the  word 
'  thought '  have  passed.  Properly  meaning  trouble 
or  sorrow,  'care'  was  from  an  early  period  con- 
founded with  Lat.  cura,  and  from  tlie  idea  of 
attention  thus  obtained  was  held  to  express  the 
particular  trouble  of  the  mind  due  to  o\er-atten- 
tion,  viz.  anxiety  (see  Hastings'  DB  i.  353),  while 
in  modern  language  care,  and  especially  its  com- 
pounds '  careful  '  and  '  carefulness,'  are  often  used 
in  a  sense  which  indicates  no  trouble,  but  the 
well-directed  effort  of  the  mind  in  relation  to 
present  affairs  and  future  prosjjects.  The  AV 
rendering  'take  no  thought  (Mt  6-^- 3'- **)  is  still 
more  misleading.  As  used  by  the  translators,  it 
meant  '  distressing  anxiety  '  (see  Trench  On  the  A  V 
p.  39  ;  Hastings'  DB  iv.  754).  That  the  phrase  p.^ 
pepipvaTc  is  not  '  take  no  thought,'  but  '  be  not 
anxious'  (RV),  seems  clear  by  the  derivation  of 
pipipva  from  picpls,  with  its  sense  of  dividing  and, 
as  applied  to  the  mind,  of  distracticn ;  and  is 
rendered  certain  by  comparison  with  tlie  word 
Bopv^i^a  or  rvp^i^a  coupled  with  it  in  Lk  10",  and 
with  the  expressive  phrase  /ii;  ntnupi^iatie  used  in 
Lk  12-',  which  expresses  the  metaphor  of  a  ship 
tossed  and  helpless  on  the  waves  (see  Cox  in  Ex- 
positor,  1st  ser.  i.  [1875]  p.  249). 

The  warning  of  Jesus  against  care  is  therefore 
in  no  sense  applicable  to  reasonable  forethought 
(wpbvoia).  Man  cannot  live  his  life  like  the  birds 
and  the  flowers,  without  a  sense  of  the  present 
necessity  and  the  impending  future.  He  can  and 
must  think,  plan,  and  toil.  The  forethought  and 
work  necessary  to  provide  food  and  raiment  for 
himself  and  for  those  dependent  upon  him,  are  part 
of  the  Divine  discipline  of  character.  A  careless 
life  would  be  essentially  a  godless  life.  But 
Christ's  reproofs  are  directed  against  all  feverish- 
ness  and  distraction  of  mind.  Whatever  is  the 
exciting  cause  of  the  distress— how  food  is  to  be 
obtained  (Mt  e^^-  ^\  Lk  12=3-  ^)  or  clothing  (Mt  6-'*-='', 
Lk  12"-  28),  how  the  unknown  future  is  to  be  met 
(Mt  6^)  tliough  there  seems  no  obvious  source  of 
supply  (Mt  10" ;.  cf.  Mk  &,  Lk  9»  lO--  *),  though  the 
duties  of  life  press  hardly  (Lk  lO'"),  and  though 
there  is  impending  and  certain  peril  (Mt  10'*  12"), 
He  says,  '  Be  not  anxious.' 

The  argument  of  Jesus  against  care  is  clothed 
in  language  of  rare  geniality  and  felicitous- 
ness.  '  Which  of  you  by  being  anxious  can  add  a 
cubit  to  his  stature '  [rather,  '  a  span  to  his  age ']  * 
Worry  does  not  help  forward  the  great  designs  of 
life.  It  cannot  even  aeconiplish  '  that  which  is 
least.'  It  may  take  a  span  from  one's  age;  it 
cannot  prolong  life.     It  is  futile,  and  it  is  needless 


CARE 


CARPENTER 


as  well.  Nature  reads  to  man  the  lesson  of  trust. 
The  wild  (lowers,  though  their  life  is  so  brief,  are 
decked  with  loveliness  by  the  yreat  God.  God 
takes  care  for  the  flowers.  And  He  is  youv 
Heavenly  Father.  The  argument  is  a  minori  ad 
imijus.  God's  care  for  the  flowers  is  a  constant 
rebuke  of  His  children's  feverish  anxiety  concern- 
in"  their  own  wants.  The  Providence,  unforget- 
fuT of  '  that  which  to-day  is,  and  to-morrow  is  cast 
into  tlie  oven.'  is,  in  relation  to  His  children,  an 
all-wise  and  all-loving  Fatherhood. 

Hut  the  geniality  of  the  argument  does  not 
disguise  the  seriousness  with  which  Jesus  regarded 
care.  The  context  of  the  locus  classicus  (Mt  6-'"'^, 
Lk  12--'^')  is  not  the  same  in  the  two  Evangelists. 
St.  Matthew  attaches  the  warning  against  care  to 
the  saying,  '  No  man  can  serve  two  masters  ... 
ye  cannot  serve  God  and  mammon.'  In  Lk.  it 
follows  as  a  deduction  from  the  parable  spoken 
against  covetousness  and  the  closing  saying,  '  So 
is  every  one  that  layeth  up  treasure  for  himself, 
and  is  not  rich  toward  God.'  There  is  no  need  to 
decide  the  question  of  the  priority  of  the  two 
accounts,  for  the  moral  context  of  both  is  practi- 
cally the  same.  Care  arises  from  a  division  at  the 
very  centre  of  life,  an  attempt  to  serve  both  God 
and  mammon,  to  '  worship  the  Lord  and  serve 
other  gods,'  or  it  arises  from  the  radically  false 
idea  that  '  aman's  life  consisteth  in  the  abundance 
of  the  things  which  he  possesseth.'  Such  a  false 
estimate  of  values,  involving  the  desire  for  and  the 
pursuit  of  material  goods  for  their  own  sake,  in- 
evitably produces  the  fever  and  distraction  of  mind 
called  care,  and  it  is  the  moral  condition  out  of 
which  it  arises,  as  well  as  the  consequences  which 
it  engenders,  that  makes  it  so  serious  a  fault  in 
the  eyes  of  Christ.  'The  cares  of  this  life'  are 
part  of  the  hostile  influences  which  choke  the  good 
seed  of  the  kingdom,  so  that  it  bringeth  forth  no 
fruit  to  perfection  (Mt  13-" ;  cf.  Lk  8'^).  In  a  mind 
so  preoccupied  by  worldly  interests  and  anxieties 
the  word  of  Christ  may  survive,  but  it  never 
comes  to  maturity,  or  produces  its  potential 
harvest  in  life  and  service.  Hence  the  .severity 
which  underlies  the  gentleness  of  Christ's  rebuke  of 
Martha  (Lk  10^'-  ■").  She  was  distracted  about  much 
.serving,  anxious  and  troubled  about  many  things, 
and  her  worry  spoiled  her  temper,  and  the  service 
of  Christ  to  which  her  love  for  Him  impelled  her. 
So  serious  indeed  may  be  the  consequences  of  this 
distress  of  soul,  that  Jesus,  in  His  warning  against 
the  evil  things  which  may  overcharge  the  heart, 
and  make  men  utterly  unprepared  for  the  coming 
of  the  Son  of  Man,  combined  with  surfeiting  and 
drunkenness  '  the  cares  of  this  life '  (Lk  21**). 

In  opposition  to  care  Jesus  sets  trust  in  the 
Heavenly  Father.  The  assurance  of  His  intimate 
knowlege  of  life  and  all  its  needs,  and  of  His  lov- 
ing care,  ought  to  exclude  all  anxiety  concerning 
the  wants  of  the  present,  and  all  fear  of  the 
future.  But  trust  in  God's  love  must  be  continu- 
ally subordinate  to  the  doing  of  God's  will.  The 
assurance  of  His  Fatherly  love  and  providential 
care  is  mediated  to  loving  obedience.  Thus  in 
sending  forth  the  Twelve  (Mt  10'  ;  cf.  Mk  6S  Lk 
9^),  and  in  the  case  of  the  Seventy  (Lk  lO^- ■•),  Jesus 
bids  them  make  no  elaborate  provision  for  tlieir 
physical  needs.  God  takes  care  of  His  servants 
when  they  are  in  the  path  of  obedience  to  His  will. 
And  similarly,  when  He  warns  His  disciples  that 
they  shall  be  brought  before  the  ecclesiastical  and 
civil  authorities  because  of  their  allegiance  to  Him, 
He  calls  upon  thcni  to  have  no  anxiety  as  to  the 
reply  they  shall  give  (Mt  lO'',  Mk  13",  Lk  12"). 
Jesus  would  have  them  believe  that  the  moral 
order  and  the  providential  order  of  the  world  are 
essentially  one,  and  are  both  controlled  by  the  love 
of  the  Heavenly  Fatlier,  so  that  tliey  wlio  .seek 


His  Kingdom  and  do  His  will  sliall  not  want  any 
good  thing. 

Christ's  own  life  is  the  supreme  example  of 
perfect  peace,  conditioned  by  absolute  trust  in  the 
Heavenly  Father,  and  loving  obedience  to  His 
will.  The  pressing  necessity  gave  Him  no  anxiety, 
and  the  impending  peril  no  fear.  '  Thou  wilt  keep 
him  in  perfect  peace  whose  mind  is  stayed  on  thee, 
because  he  trusteth  in  thee'  (Is  26^). 

LiTERATiRE.— Hastings'  Dr>,  art.  'Cire';  Maclaren,  Semi. 
pr.  in  Manchester,  1st  ser.  p.  235;  Dale,  Laws  of  Christy  p. 
157 ;  Munger.  Appeal  to  Life,  p.  149 ;  Alex.  Macleod,  Senn. 
p.  119;  Fairbairn,  Cili/  of  God,  p.  317 ;  Drummond,  Nat.  Law 
in  the  Spir.  World,  p.  123 ;  Expositor,  i.  .\ii.  (1882]  104,  in.  ii. 
[1385]  224 ;  Moore,  God  is  Loce,  82 ;  AUon,  Indwelling  Christ, 

-  '       -       ■        "  ~  ■    " ■    "•     ■    f  God,  287. 

OSEPH  MUIR. 

CARPENTER.— Mt  13«  'Is  not  this  the  car- 
penter's son?'  The  question  of  Christ's  own 
countrymen,  when  they  were  offended  at  the  lowly 
station  of  the  Teacher  at  whose  wisdom  they  mar- 
velled, tells  us  the  exact  conditions  under  which 
Jesus  passed  His  early  years.  The  parallel  Mk  6' 
'  Is  not  this  the  carpenter?'  is  still  more  interest- 
ing, for  it  tells  us  how  Jesus  Himself  was  occupied 
in  His  youth  and  early  manhood.  This  flashlight 
photograph  of  the  artisan  in  the  workshop  is  all 
we  know  of  the  eighteen  years  between  the  visit 
to  Jerusalem  in  His  boyliood  and  the  baptism 
which  marked  the  entry  on  public  life.  The 
passage  Mt  13"-"l|  Mk  B'"*  presents  a  curious  and 
quite  undesigned  antithesis  to  Sir  SS^'**',  speeiallv 
these  words,  '  How  can  he  get  wisdom  that  holdeth 
the  plough?  ...  so  every  carpenter  [Heb.  .itoy, 
Gr.  TiKToiv,  KV  '  artificer ']  and  workmaster  that 
laboureth  night  and  daj'.  .  .  .  They  shall  not  sit 
high  in  the  congregation  .  .  .  and  tliey  shall  not 
be  found  where  parables  are  spoken.  Possibly 
this  reference  explains  why  the  people  were  speci- 
ally oftended  at  Jesus  the  carpenter  for  presuming 
to  speak  in  the  synagogue  and  in  parables.  The 
passage  of  Sirach  quoted  is  from  the  chapter 
describing  the  honour  of  a  physician,  with  which 
may  be  compared  the  proverb,  'Physician,  heal  thy- 
self,' quoted  by  Christ  in  similar  circumstances  at 
Nazareth,  when  they  said, '  Is  not  this  Joseph's  son  ? ' 

An  attempt  to  make  Mk  1)3  confonn  to  Mt  1355  i;  seen  i.i  some 
old  MSS  (including  the  good  cursives  33-69)  as  well  as  in  Eth. 
and  Arm.  versions,  where  we  find  '  carpenter's  son  '  in  place  of 
'  oai-penter*  This  reading  must  represent  a  very  old  text,  for 
Origen  (c.  Cels.  vi.  36)  says,  '  Nowhere  in  the  Gospels  current 
in  the  Churches  is  Jesus  Himself  called  a  carjienter,'  alluding 
apparently  to  other  Gospels  in  which  this  trade  was  ascribed  to 
.Christ.  It  is  also  clear  that  the  TR  reading  must  be  as  old, 
for  Celsus  founded  on  it.  One  may  gather  that  the  change  in 
MSS  and  versions  was  Tiot  merelj  accidental  or  harmonistio  but 
deliberate,  and  due  to  thnsL-  who  considered  that  Jesus  was 
dishonoured  1)>'  hfinu'  descrilit'd  us  a  carpenter.    Justin  Martyr 

when  he  says'lli  i;  -If.  -n-,  •  ■■  '  ri  Liniongst  men.  worked  as  a  car- 
penter, niakin-  \'\  ii_h^  Litil  \uk._s.  thus  teaching  the  marks  of 
righteousness.  ;ui. I  >  oiniif  ihIihl:'  an  active  life.'  Such  making 
of  ploughs  and  .\  uUls  is  pill  iauly  the  kind  of  work  expected  of 
a  country  carpenter  like  one  at  Nazareth,  tliough  possibly 
Justin's  words  are  a  rhetorical  expansion  of  .Mk  »'.  A  curious 
anecdote  is  recorded  by  Farrar,  to  the  effect  tliat  Libanius.  a 
pagan  sophist  and  devoted  admirer  of  Julian  the  Apostate, 
:_.j  _.  .  i-,u„:_.:„.,    ., ,-!,„*  jg  jjj^.  carpcutcr  dolug  ■ — '*' 


Very  soon  afterwards 
rangely  enough,  in  relating 
!  in  Li/e  of  Christ  'car- 


nquired  of  a  Christian, 
The  answer  was,  '  He  is  maki 
came  the  news  of  Julian's  dea 
this  anecdote,  Farrar  himself  quotes 
penter's  son,'  but  in  Life  of  Lives  he  has  '  carpenter']. 

Whichever  of  the  above  readings  be  adopted, 
however  (and  in  Mk  6^  the  TR  is  supported  by  all 
the  chief  MSS),  the  probability  is  that  Joseph  by 
this  time  was  dead,  and  that  Jesus  as  his  reputed 
.son  had  carried  on  the  business.  Nor  are  we  to 
reckon  this  as  anything  derogatory  to  the  Lord. 
On  the  contrary,  it  is  another  proof  of  His  con- 
descension, when,  though  He  was  rich,  yet  for  our 
sakes  He  became  poor  (2  Co  8").  By  His  toil  at 
the  bench  He  has  dignified  and  consecrated  manual 
labour.  AVe  may  derive  the  practical  lesson  ex- 
pressed in   Faber's   hymn,    'Labour  is  sweet,  for 


CAVE 


CELIBACY 


273 


Tliou  hast  toiled.'  Even  more  to  us  than  St.  Paul 
the  tent-maker  is  Jesus  the  carpenter.  He  was 
not  an  Essene,  holding  Himself  aloof  from  tem- 
poral affairs,  hut  a  true  Son  of  Blan,  taking  His 
part  in  the  business  of  life.  IJefore  He  preached 
the  good  tidings  of  the  kingdom.  He  preached  the 
gospel  of  work.  The  work  that  His  Father  had 
given  Him  to  do  was  not  the  exceptional  duty  of 
the  teacher,  but  the  ordinary  industry  of  the 
artisan.  His  first  pulpit  was  the  carpenter's 
bench,  and  His  first  sermons  were  the  implements 
and  utensils  He  made  for  the  country  folk  of 
Galilee. 

Attempts  have  been  made  to  find  in  Christ's 
parables  and  other  utterances  some  reference  to 
the  trade  in  which  for  so  many  years  He  was 
actively  engaged.  The  metaphor  of  the  green 
wood  and  the  dry  {Lk  23^'),  and  the  similitude  of 
the  splinter  and  the  beam  (Mt  7''°),  are  the  nearest 
approaches  to  such  reminiscences  (cf.  also  one  of 
the  recently  discovered  '  Sayings  of  Jesus ' :  '  Cleave 
the  wood,  and  there  you  will  find  me '),  but  are  too 
slight  to  found  on  them  any  inference.  Yet  may 
He  not  have  often  sighed  in  the  workshop  of 
Nazareth  as  He  handled  the  nails  and  the  hammer, 
and  thought  of  the  day  when  the  Son  of  Man  must 
be  lifted  up?  As  in  Holman  Hunt's  famous  sym- 
holical  picture,  the  figure  of  the  young  carpenter 
with  outstretched  arms  released  from  toil  as  the 
sun  went  down,  would  make  tlie  awful  shadow  of 
the  Cross. 


may  be  compared  Millais'  The  Carpenter's  Shop  (otherwise 
known  as  Christ  in  the  House  of  His  Parents).  See  The 
Gospels  in  Art,  pp.  110  and  112;  Favrar,  Christ  in  Art,  p. 

27* ff.  Arthur  Pollok  Syji. 

CA'?E  {tt^!:^,  in,  (TTDiXatoi/).— Caves,  both  natural 
and  artificial,  abound  in  Palestine  ;  the  soft  chalky 
soil  of  Syria  readily  lends  itself  to  both.  Caves 
were  used  in  Palestine  for  a  variety  of  purposes  ; 
originally  as  dwelling  places  *  (cf.  the  '  Horites'  or 
'cave-dwellers,'  Gn  14"  36=""'-,  Dt  2--,  see  also  Gn 
19^").  In  the  flauriln  there  must  have  been  m.any 
of  these ;  sometimes  regular  underground  towns, 
such  as  the  ancient  Edrei,  existed :  t  even  at  the 
present  day  there  may  be  seen  in  Gilead  (Wadi/ 
Ezrak),  a  village,  named  Anab,  of  Troglodyte 
dwellers ;  in  this  village  there  are  about  a  hundred 
families.^  Caves  were  used,  further,  as  places  of 
refuge  (Jg  6=,  1  S  13'^  14",  1  K  18^  He  IV,  Rev  6'=), 
as  hiding-places  for  robbers  (Jer  7",  cf.  Mt  21'^, 
Mk  11",  Lk  ig-""),  as  stables,§  as  cisterns,||  as  folds 
for  flocks,1I  and,  above  all,  as  burying-places  (Gn 
23iM9-'8Jn  IP");  the  accounts  of  the  burial  caves 
discovered  in  the  lower  strata  of  the  site  of  ancient 
Gezer  are  of  the  highest  interest.** 

It  is,  however,  in  reference  to  the  place  of  birth 
and  the  place  of  burial  of  Christ  that  the  chief 
interest  in  caves  centres  here.  Justin  Martyr 
(Dial.  c.  Try  ph.  Ixxviii.),  in  recounting  the  story 
of  the  birth  of  Christ,  says  that  it  took  place 
in  a  cave  (iv  a-rrfKaiif  tii/i)  near  the  village  of 
Bethlehem. tt  That  cave  -  stables,  both  ancient 
and  modern,  are  to  be  found  in  Palestine,  admits 
of  no  doubt.  Conder  tX  says  that  there  are  '  in- 
numerable instances  of  stables  cut  in  rock,  resem- 

*  Recent  excavations  in  Palestine  have  thrown  considerable 
light  on  Troglodyte  dwellings,  see  PEFSt,  1903,  jip.  20-23. 

t  Wetzstein,  Reiseherieht  iiber  Hauran  und  die  Trachonen, 
p.  44  ff. 

J  Nowack,  Bebrdische  Archdologie,  i.  136. 

§  Conder,  Tent  Work  in  Palestine,  p.  145. 

II  PEFSt,  1903,  p.  31.1. 

11  Jewish  Encycl.  iii.  634. 

*•  See  PEFSt,  1902,  pp.  347-356  ;  1003,  pp.  14-20 ;  1904,  pp. 
18-20,  113,  lU. 

tICf.  also  Tobler,  Bethlehem  in  Paldstina,  pp.  145-159; 
Palmer,  '  Das  jetzige  Bethlehem '  in  ZDP  V'  xvii.  p.  89  ff. 

5J  0^).  ci'(.  p.  145. 


bling  the  Eethlehem  grotto.  Such  stables  I  have 
planned  and  measured  at  Tetoa,  'Aziz,  and  other 
places  south  of  Bethlehem,  and  the  mangers  exist- 
ing in  them  leave  no  doubt  as  to  their  use  and 
character.'  It  seems,  therefore,  not  unreasonable 
to  accept  the  ancient  tradition  that  Christ  was 
born  in  a  cave.     See  art.  Bethlehem. 

Rock-hewn  tombs,  or  caves  for  burial,  were  of 
four  distinct  kinds:  (1)  tombs  which  were  cut 
down  into  the  rock,  in  the  same  way  in  which 
graves  are  dug  at  the  present  time  in  European 
countries ;  the  body  was  let  down  into  these ; 
(2)  tombs  cut  into  the  face  of  the  rock,  into  which 
the  bodies  were  pushed  ;  (3)  tombs,  somewhat  like 
the  last  class,  excepting  that  within,  against  the 
wall,  there  was  a  kind  of  step,  about  two  feet 
high,  upon  which  the  body  was  laid  ;  (4)  tombs 
which  were  little  more  than  a  shelf  cut  into  the 
rock,  just  long  enough  and  high  enough  to  hold 
the  body.  The  first  three  of  these  classes  varied 
very  much  in  size ;  in  the  case  of  the  first,  the 
top',  which  was  level  with  the  ground,  was  covered 
with  a  stone  slab ;  the  others  were  closed  by  means 
of  a  stone  slab  which  could  be  pushed  aside  (Mt 
27™),  or  else  a  small  door  was  fixed  at  the  entrance. 
Tombs  were  not  infrequently  furnished  with  an 
antechamber,  from  which  one  entered  into  an 
inner  space,  the  tomb  proper,  through  a  low  door- 
way. As  a  rule,  a  raised  shelf  ran  round  the 
burial-chamber,  and  upon  this  the  body  was  laid  ; 
that  part  on  which  the  head  rested  was  slightly 
higher.*     See  BURIAL,  TOMB. 

The  data  to  be  gathered  from  the  Gospels  are 
not  numerous;  see  Mt  27«'',  Mk  15*^  Lk  23^^',  Jn 
Ips  201-12. 

LrreRATmiE.— Guthe  in  ZDPV, '  Ziir  Topographic  derGrabcs- 
kirche  in  Jerusalem,'  xiv.  35-40 ;  Schick  mZDPV,'  Neu  aufge- 
deckte  Graber,'  xvi.  202-205,  where  a  verv  interesting  plate  is 
given ;  T.  Tobler,  Bethlehem  in  Paldstina,  pp.  124-227,  S. 
Gallon,  1849  ;  Badeker,  Palestine  and  Siiria^,  p.  cxi  «.,  Leipzig, 
1898 ;  the  references,  given  aboie,  in  PEFSt.  See  also  W.  R 
Smith,  PS  197  f.,  and  the  '  Index  of  Subjects '  in  Hastings'  DB, 
Extra  Volume.  "W.  O.  E.  OesTERLEY. 

CELIBACY.— According  to  the  ordinary  Jewish 
view,  marriage  was  of  universal  obligation  (cf. 
for  instance,  Ycbamoth  vi.  6 ;  Kctlutboth  v.  6,  7  ; 
Gittin  iv.  5).  There  does  not  appear  to  be  evi- 
dence whether  exceptions  were  recognized  as  pos- 
sible because  of  some  special  vocation,  as  that  to 
particular  forms  of  the  prophetic  office.  In  the 
time  of  Christ  the  Essenes  in  general  eschewed 
marriage,  though  one  section  of  them  practised  it 
(Josephus,  Ant.  xvill.  i.  5;  BJ  u.  viii.  2).  The 
teaching  of  Christ  does  not  contain  any  explicit 
reference  to  this  ditt'erence  between  the  Essene 
practice  and  the  ordinary  Jewish  view.  His  teach- 
ing about  divorce  and  His  reassertion  of  the  primi- 
tive law  of  marriage  (Mt  S^'- ''-  19"-^  Mk  101-'=,  Lk 
16")  imply  not  only  that  He  was  dealing  with  mar- 
riage as  an  existing  Jewish  institution,  but  also 
that  He  contemplated  it  as  a  permanent  element 
in  Christian  life.  It  is  not  unnatural  to  draw  a 
similar  inference  from  His  presence  at  the  mar- 
riage at  Cana  (Jn  21-"). 

St.  Matthew  records  a  saying  of  Christ  in  which 
it  is  contemplated  that  by  a  special  vocation  some 
are  called  to  celibacy.  Christ's  prohibition  of 
divorce  led  the  disciples  to  say  that,  without  free- 
dom to  divorce,  'it  is  not  expedient  to  marry.' 
Our  Lord  in  His  reply  recoL;nized  that  there  are 
some  for  whom  this  'saying'  of  the  disciples  is 
true,  but  only  those  'to  wlioiii  it  is  given.'  He 
explained  that  there  were  three  classes  who  might 
be  regarded  as  having  tlie  vocation  to  celibacy: 
— (1)  '  Eunuchs  which  were  so  born   from  their 

•NoTack,  Hcb.  Arch.  i.  191;  Benzinger,  Heh.  Areh.  pp. 
325-227  ;  Latham,  The  Ptsen  Master,  pp.  3211.,  87,  88,  and  see 
the  twoUlu  ■  


CKLtDACY 


CELLAR 


mother's  womb,'  i.e.  tliose  ^vhose  physical  consti- 
tution unfitted  them  for  marriage ;   (2)     eunuc Us 
which  were  made  eunuclis  by  men,  i.e.  those    who 
bv  actual  physical  deprivation  or  compulsion  froni 
men  are  prevented  frM>n   „::n,v,n.     (Alford);    3) 
'  eunuchs  wliich  made  ll..  -:>-  l^  -  .  ■,nuclis  for  the 
kingdom  of  heaven's  sak.  ,   ,.  .  t!.u~u  who  by  volun- 
tary self -sacrifice  abstaiiRd  liom  uiairiage  in  order 
that  they  might  be  ('()  more  faithlul  citizens  ot 
the  kingdom  of  heaven  in  tlieir  own  personal  life, 
or  (b)  more  eiiective  instruments  for  the  strength- 
ening or  expansion  of  the  kingdom  of  heaven.     He 
then  repeated  in  a  ditierent  form   'He  that  is  able 
to  receive  it,  let  liim  receive  it'  (Mt  19«  "),  the 
previous  statement  that  the  '  saying    of  the  dis- 
ciples, to  which  He  had  thus  given  a  higlier  and 
deeper  meaning,  was  not  a  maxim  for  all  His  tol- 
lowers,  but  only  for  tliose  who,  having  the  Divine 
call  to  the  celibate  life,  had  Avith  it  the  Divine  gilt 
of  power  to  obey  the  call.     Tins  pat  luiilur  >a>  m'j. 
is  not  recorded  by  any  of  the  l.i  airji  li-l  -     \"  I'l 
St.  Matthew.    Thereisaconne.t  .1  Inn  -i  t  l,o,i::i,i . 
liowever,  in  ^vords  recorded  I .y  '^'-   '^''';'V,,l;  .,,   i 
Lk  18^-™  (also  in  Til  and  RVm  ot  JNlt  IJ-    aii'i 
in  TR  of   Mk   10'-')  a  wife  is  mentioned  among 
those    relatives  whom    Christ   contemplates    His 
disciples  as  leaving  for  the  sake  of  the  langdom 
of  God  (Lk.),  or  for  His  name's  sake  (Mt  ),  oi  for 
His  sake  and  the  sake  of  the  gospel  (Mk.) ;  and  it 
is  promised  that  those  who  make  such  acts  ot  selt- 
sacrifice  shall  receive  great  rewards  in  the  present 
time  and  shall  hereafter  inherit  eternal  life.     In 
Mt  19^  and  Mk  10"  the  warning  that     many  tha,t 
are  first  shall  be  last ;  and  the  l\\t  first    ^s  a/^""" 
ated  with  this  promise  ;  and  in  Mt  20"=  the  par- 
able of  the  Labourers  in  the  Vineyard  is  added  to 
illustrate  that  maxim. 

It  is  a  mistake  to  interpret  Mt  5-  ('  Every  one 
that  looketh  on  a  woman  to  lust  after  her  hatli 
committed  adultery  with  her  already  m  bis  heart  ) 
as  a  condemnation  of  marriage  ;  the  context  show.-, 
the  meaning  to  be  that  to  cherish  the  desire  for 
fornication  or  adultery  is  the  same  thing  as  com- 
mitting those  sins  in  the  heart.  Nor  is  there  any 
disparagement  of  marriage  in  the  words,  Ihey 
that  are  accounted  worthy  to  attain  to  that  world 
and  the  resurrection  from  the  dead  neitlier  marry 


1  Co 


this  saying  to  be  a  reminiscence  ,     ,      ,  x 

ascribed  to  Christ  because  of  the  words  not  1, 
but  the  Lord'  in  7"  ;  but  Clement  apparently  has 
our  Lord's  words  in  Mt  19'=  in  view,  for  a  little 
later  in  the  same  chapter  he  says,  '  They  who 
have  made  tliemselves  eunuchs  from  all  sin  tor  the 
kingdom  of  heaven's  sake,  these  are  blessed,  tliey 
who  fast  from  the  world.' 


Clement  of  Alexandria  also  refer 
our  Lord  and  Salome  mentioned  n 
to  the  Ktfvptians'  (Strom,  iw.  vi.  4:. 
TheuJ.  07).    Our  Lord  is  tlitre  riii' 


of  this  last  (|ilf.tatK.il  IS  :' 
'The  Lord  Uimself.beiii 
should  come,  said.  When 


atli  1 


passa-e: 


ording 


-  ...  1.  .Miilr/  Part 
,„.,„t  ..1  li„iiie,  12t 
wUuii  His  kingdom 
.ne,  and  the  outside 
c,  neither  male  nor 
itice  must  be  taken 

our  Lord  spoke  in 
r,f  the  flesh  and  the 

between  death  and 

•  Then  I  did  well  in 

ly,  '  Eat  ever.v  herb, 

It  is  possible  that 

•pre- 


.ord  1 


nor  are  given  in  marriage '  (Lk  20^)  ;  the  meaning 
is  showS  by  the  context  to  be  tliat  the  physical 
accompaniments  of  marriage  belong  to  tlie  present 
world,  not  to  the  future  life,  which,  as  it  lias  not 
death,  has  not  birth.  Lk  14="  ('  If  any  man  cometh 
unto  me,  and  hateth  not  his  own  .  .  .  wife,  .  .  . 
vea  and  his  own  life  also,  he  cannot  be  my  dis- 
ciple ')  refers  not  to  celibacy,  but  to  the  general 
law  that  a  Christian  must  be  prepared  to  sur- 
render everything  human  for  the  sake  of  Christ,  if 
called  by  God  to  do  so,  or  if  such  surrender  be 
necessitated  by  faithfulness  to  the  obligations  of 
the  Christian  religion.  ,,-,,.  ^ 

On  the  whole,  tlicn,  the  teaching  of  Christ  may 
be  summarized  to  the  effect  that  (1)  marriage  is 
a  good  state,  contemplated  as  the  usual  lot,  m 
ordinary  Christian  life,  of  those  who  have  not 
received  some  special  call;  (2)  celibacy  is  the 
subject  of  a  distinct  vocation  involving  dangers 
and  having  attached  to  it  high  promises.  It  is 
probable  that  the  regard  paid  to  celibacy  in  tlie 
bliristian  Church  was  based  partly  on  the  refer- 
ences to  it  in  the  teachinsj  o  Christ  and  part  .y  on 
inferences  connected  witl  the  fact  of  His  bi  th 
from  a  virgin.  Clement  of  Alexandria  (6<rom.  III. 
XV.  97)quo't.es  as  a  saying  o  Christ,  with  the  intro- 
duction 'Tlie  Lord  says,'  the  following:  He  Mo 
is  married,  let  liim  not  put  away  his  wife  ;  and  he 
who  is  not  married,  let  him  not  marry;  he  who 
with  purpose  of  chastity  lias  agreed  not  to  a,  ^ 
let  him  remain  unmarried.'    bmue  have  thought 


corded  in  t.^.NT.  It  ,s  -7;-;^,;,-;  i -^ri-X^.  IT 
"3T)  pointed  out,  thevdilfc-rVi  character  from  the  utterances 
;e.o-Sedhrthe  authentic  Gospels,  and  the  reference  to  Salome 
as  childless  contradicts  facts,  though,  as  regards  this  last  point. 
•Then  I  did  well  in  not  Ijearing'  might  easily  be  a  copyists 
niistake  for  'Then  I  should  have°done  weU  if  I  had  not  borne  • 

(ixtx;;  .X.  •ni:w«.  for  x^>.Ss  <Sv  i»  i-r.,^<re). 

LiTEiiATUBE.-Neandcr.  Life  of  Je^s  Christ,  S2?4:  We 
Life  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  ii.  473,  474  ;  Stier,  ^ioMsofthe 
Lord  Jestts,  iii.  13-18 ;  Edersheim^  Life  and  Tv,M  of  -(e^the 
Messiah,  ii.  336,  336;  Dalman  Words  ofJesics,  PP-  If.  1^.' 
Alford  on  Mtl9"i2;  Knabenbauer  on  Mt  1912;  D.vkes,  ilfom- 
festoofthe  King,  p.  245 fl.;  \yendt,Teaehing_of  Jesus,  i. 
352£E.,'ii.  73ff. ;  Martensen,  Christian  Ethtes,  111.  (-46. 

'  Darwell  Stone. 

CELLAR.— Used  only  once  in  the  Gospels,  in 
Lk  1P^  where  KV  gives  'cellar'  for  AV  'secret 
place,'  following  the  correct  reading  xpffTV,  a 
vault '  '  crypt,'  or  '  cellar,'  not  Kprnrdv,  hidden. 
Josephus  uses  the  same  word  t:piTrrn,ya.  a  wa.y 
to  make  its  meaning  very  clear:  'They  set  a 
tower  on  fire,  and  leapt  into  the  cellar  beneath 

Abundant  proof  is  forthcoming  from  the  exa- 
mination of  tlie  ruins  of  many  ancient  tastern 
houses,  from  allusions  in  the  Bible  (cf.  1  Cli  27"-  =») 
and  in  other  writings  of  the  tunes,  as  well  as  from 
modern  dwellings  in  the  East  which  are  typically 
Oriental,  that  many  ancient  houses  ^y.ere  Foyided 
with  'cellars  beneath,'  and  that  ordinarfly  these 
'  cellars'  were  used  as  store-houses  rather  than  as 
dAvelling-places.  •,,,,•>,•     t\     v„i.(- «f 

Lookfng  at  the  passage  Lk  11^  in  the  light  of 
the  connexion  in  which  we  find  it  m  Mt  5 
and  ]Mk  4=',  the  idea  is  that  a  course  of  conceal- 
ment on  the  part  of  Christians  is  unreasonable, 
and  contrary  to  the  Divine  design  Christians  are 
'the  light  of  the  world,'  the  lirfit  by  which  .the 
mass  of  mankind  may  see  the  tilings  of  religion. 
As  such  they  cannot  escape  observation  if  tliey 
would,  and  they  should  not  wisli  to  escape  it  if 
thov  c'mM  for  this  would  be  contrary  to  the  very 
i„ii|i.i  r  ,,|  (ii.a  in  making  them  sources  of  light. 
Til'  ,iniv,',~..nal.leness  of  sucli  a  course,  from 
cow  ir.li.  o  c.v  any  other  motive,  is  what  is  set  forth 
in  tliis  -ind  the  otlier  significant  figures  used  by 
our  Lord  :  '  No  man,  when  he  hath  lighted  a  lamp, 
puttetli  it  in  a  cellar,  neither  under  a  busliel,  or  a 
lied  (Mk  ),  but  on  a  lamp-stand,  that  they  winch 
come  in  may  see  tlie  light.'  The  very  purpose  m 
lighting  the  lamp  is  tliat  men  may  see  it,  or  see  by 
it  Is  it,  then,  to  be  put  in  the  cellar,  where  people 
do  not  live,  or  under  a  buslicl  or  a  bed,  where  it 
1  would  be  obscured';     Is  it  not  ratlier  to  be  put  on 


CENSUS 


275 


the  lamp-stand,  where  all  comers  may  sec  it,  and 
see  by  it? 


CENSUS.— This  English  word  does  not  occur  in 
the  NT,  tlie  Greek  term  dTraypacjyr)  being  rendered 
taxing  in  AV  and  enrolment  in  RV  both  in  Lk  2= 
and  in  Ac  5^'.  In  the  former  case,  with  which 
we  are  mainly  concerned,  'enrolment'  is  certainly 
the  better  word  ;  for  the  purpose  of  the  enumera- 
tion was  anparently  not  fiscal.  That  mentioned 
by  Gamaliel,  however,  was  a  valuation  as  well  as 
an  enumeration,  and  it  was  called  '  the  taxing'  with 
some  reason.  It  was  also  better  known  than  the 
other ;  pa?-  excellence  it  was  '  the  census '  because 
a  great  tumult  arose  under  .Judas  of  Galilee  in  con- 
nexion with  it,  which  made  the  occasion  famous. 
That  which  took  place  at  the  time  stated  by  St. 
Luke  was  so  little  known  by  the  period  when  his 
Gospel  was  written,  that  he  thinks  it  needful  to 
insert  a  note  about  its  date,  lest  it  should  be  mis- 
taken for  the  other.  'This  was  the  first  enrol- 
ment made  when  Quirinius  was  governor  of  Syria.' 
This  note,  however,  has  been  itself  a  matter  of 
great  perplexity,  because  the  date  thus  indicated 
does  not  apparently  tally  with  the  ascertained  facts 
of  secular  history.  Foi-  tli^'  discussion  of  this  in- 
tricate question  spc  .-ulivl-s  BiRTU  OF  CHRIST, 
DATE.S,  and  Quiuixir,-;. 

The  nature  of  the  census  of  Lk  2''^  is  a  topic  of 
some  interest,  on  which  light  has  been  shed  by 
Ramsay  in  Was  Christ  born  at  Ucfkle/iem?  {1898). 
It  seems  to  have  been  an  enrolment  by  house- 
holds, such  as  Kenyon  (Classinil  Review,  March 
1893),  Wilcken,  and  Viereek  have  shown  was  the 
practice  in  Egypt.  Augustus  had  a  great  belief 
in  the  proper  and  systematic  enumeration  of  his 
subjects,  and  the  reckoning  of  them  by  households 
was  a  method  which  was  carefully  followed  every 
fourteen  years  in  Egypt.  Many  of  the  actual 
census  papers  have  been  found  in  that  land  in 
recent  times,  tlie  earliest  as  yet  discovered  re- 
ferring to  the  year  20  AD.  (Kamsay,  ojk  cit..  Pre- 
face, p.  X  note).  This  was  quite  dill'erent  from 
the  fiscal  statistics  compiled  annually  under  the 
direction  of  the  provincial  governors  of  the  Roman 
Empire,  papers  dealing  with  m  liicli  have  also  been 
found.  The  household  enrolments  took  place  in 
cycles  of  fourteen  years,  and  were  dated  according 
to  the  emperor  in  whose  leign  they  were  carrifMl 
out.  No  mention  was  made  in  them  of  tlie  value 
of  property  and  stock,  as  in  the  annual  returns, 
and  the  only  financial  ]mii),>si.  they  sowed  was  to 
determine  who  were  lialii>-  '■  >•  il  -'  ''i  ;i,x  e.xacted 
from  all  subjects  betwci  11  !  '  i   iirteen  and 

sixty.  This  poll-tax  w:i  li (mjwos)  re- 
ferred to  by  the  Pharisees  in  liic  .im  ,,uun  to  Christ 
as  to  the  lawfulness  of  jjaynieut  (.\It  22'' ;  see  art. 
Tribute)  It  would  seem  that  in  Syria  women  as 
well  as  men  were  retjuired  to  pay  this  tax  (Rams.ay, 
M>.  cit.  147  note) ;  and  if  that  was  the  case  also  m 
Palestine,  this  fact  may  possibly  expl.-iin  why,  on 
the  first  occasion  when  the  enrolinent  tlmt.  wa's  the 
basis  of  the  poll-tax  was  made,  Mary  ai(oiu|janied 
Joseph  to  Lethlehem  despite  her  critical  con- 
dition. 

The  discovery  of  the  household-enrolment  papers 
in  Egypt  throws  light  on  the  statement  of  Lk  2' 
'there  went  out  a  decree  from  Caesar  Augustus 
that  all  the  world  should  be  enrolled.'  'All  the 
world '  (iraanv  ttjv  olKovniv-qv)  was  formerly  supposed 
by  some  scholars,  such  as  Kitto  (Cyel.  of  Bib.  Lit., 
art.  '  Cyrenius'),  to  mean  merely  the  whole  land  of 
Palestine,  so  as  to  escape  the  difficulty  that  secular 
history,  so  far  as  then  known,  was  silent  as  to  any 
general  census.  The  meaning  of  the  phrase  cannot 
bo  so  restricted.     It  means  certainly  the  whole  of 


the  Roman  Empire,  which  in  the  days  of  Augustus 
meant  for  all  practical  purposes  'the  inhabited 
earth.'  Not  only  was  Rome  itself  included,  with 
all  the  provinces,  whether  in  Italy  or  elsewhere, 
but  also  those  lands  which,  though  having  kings  of 
their  own,  were  really  under  the  Roman  .suzerainty. 
Such  was  tliat  portion  of  Syria  under  the  dominion 
of  Herod  the  Great. 

The  silence  of  history  as  to  such  an  enumeration 
as  was  now  to  be  made  is  no  proof  that  it  did  not 
take  place ;  for  of  other  enumerations  to  which 
casual  allusion  is  made  by  historians,  Augustus 
himself  in  his  record  of  his  achievements  makes  no 
mention,  except  in  so  far  as  Roman  citizens  were  con- 
cerned. The  counting  of  alien  subjects  was  probably 
not  deemed  of  sufficient  importance  to  be  chronicled. 
Moreover,  the  household  enrolments  which  have 
been  traced  back  in  Egypt  by  extant  papers  to 
A.D.  20  suggest  at  least  that  there  may  have  been 
earlier  ones  in  A.D.  6  and  B.C.  8,  whicli  brings  us 
back  to  the  approximate  period  to  which  St.  Luke 
refers.  It  may  here  be  observed  that  the  Evan^ 
gelist  does  not  actually  say  (Lk  2'),  and  very  likely 
does  not  mean,  that  the  intention  of  Augustus  was 
that  one  single  enumeration  should  be  made  of  the 
whole  Roman  world.  The  tense  of  airoypaipeadai. 
rather  signifies  that  a  census  of  this  nature  on 
the  household-enrolment  principle  was  to  be  the 
practice,  this  being  the  first  occasion  of  its  being 
ordered  ;  which  precisely  tallies  with  the  following 
verse  when  rightly  rendered,  'This  was  the  first 
enrolment  made  at  the  time  when  Quirinius  was 
governor  of  Syria. '  A  fuller  discussion  of  this  latter 
statement  is  reserved  for  the  article  Quirinius. 

The  enrolment  with  which  we  are  particularly 
concerned,  then,  would  be  appointed  for  B.C.  8 ;  biit 
in  the  case  of  Herod's  kingdom  it  was  not  achieved 
till  about  a  couple  of  years  later,  apparently  for 
reasons  which  Ramsay  has  indicated,  but  which 
need  not  here  be  reproduced.  They  refer  to  the 
strained  relations  which  then  existed  between 
Augustus  and  Herod.  When  it  wjus  made,  the 
usual  Roman  luethud  of  enrolment  at  the  residence 
of  those  enumerated  a\,is  imt  followed,  but  one 
more  in  consonance  with  .1  cwisli  ideas.  The  people 
had  often  before  l>een  nunil)ered  by  their  tribes, 
and  Herod  proliably  judged  that,  es|'iu(ially  on  this 
lirst  occasion  of  such  an  enrolimnl,  the  use  and 
wont  would  be  more  acceptalile  to  his  s\ibjects  than 
a  method  now  to  them,  and  winil.l  Iji-  less  likely  to 

|ir.Ki  Hc  w  :i  :  1(1  inii'ik'io  as  lillli'  iis  ]iiissilili>  with 
the  ns.i;.;,,-,  iii  (In;  nali.ins  wlii.l,  ha. I  liccn  sub- 
jugated; and  Ihnetoio  \\u  may  reckon  that  the 
particular  method  of  taking  the  census  would  be 
left  to  the  decision  of  the  ruler  of  the  district. 
Accordingly  it  was  arranged  that  the  tribal 
method  should  be  followed,  and  that  in  subordina- 
tion thereto  the  enrolment  should  be  by  persons 
registering  themselves  at  the  place  from  which  the 
head  of  the  family  had  sprung.  Hence  we  read 
that '  all  went  to  enrol  themselves,  every  one  to  his 
own  city.  And  Joseph  also  went  up  from  Galilee, 
out  of  the  city  of  Nazareth,  into  Judtea,  to  the  city 
of  David,  because  he  was  of  the  house  and  family 
of  David,  to  enrol  himself  with  Mary  who  was  be- 
trothed to  him '  (Lk  '2^").  If,  as  JMt  1=^  leads  us  to 
believe,  Mary  was  actually  recognized  at  this  period 
as  Joseph's  wife,  she  would  be  enumerated  as  one  of 
his  household,  whatever  her  own  lineage  was  ;  but 
if  St.  Luke's  expression  'betrothed*  is  to  be  pressed, 
would  indicate  not  merely  that  the  marriane  was 
not  publicly  known  or  officially  recognized,  but 
that  she  herself  must  also  have  been  of  the  family 
of  David,  and  as  such  was  enrolled  in  her  own 
right.  It  may  also  be  observed  that  the  great 
gathering  of  those  who  claimed  to  be  of  '  the  stock 
of  Jesse '  would  help  to  explain  how,  when  Joseph 


CENTURION" 


CERTAINTY 


and  Mary  arrived,  '  there  was  no  room  for  them  in 

the  inn  '  (Lk  2'). 

LlTERATVRE.— Xi'w^  of  Christ  ajid  Commentaries  on  St.  Luke  ; 
articles  in  Bible  Dictionaries,  as  Smith,  Kitto,  and  Hastings ; 
Ramsay,  Was  Christ  bom  at  Bethlehem!  (1898);  Zumpt,  Vas 
Getnirtsjahr  Christi  (1S69);  Zahn,  art.  in  Neue  kirchl.  Zlsch. 
(1893) ;  Schiirer,  HJP  i.  ii.  105. 

,  Arthur  Pollok  Sym. 

CENTURION  (Lat.  ccnturio;  in  Mark  always 
KtvTvpluv  [ly5s- ■»•«];  in  Matt,  and  Luke  and  Acts 
exaroi'TdpX')'  acc.  to  N*,  or  eKaTorTapxot  in  other 
uncials ;  the  latter  form  being  more  Attic,  the 
former  more  frequent  in  Hellenistic  [cf.  Blass, 
Gram.,  Eng.  tr.  p.  28,  on  fluctuation  between  first 
and  second  declensions];  in  Polybius  the  centurion 
is  called  ra^iapxai). — As  the  name  denotes,  a  centu- 
rion was  an  officer  in  the  Koman  army  who  had 
command  of  a  centuHa  containing  100  men.  The 
legion  at  its  full  strength  consisted  of  about  6000 
foot  -  soldiers,  consequently  it  included  60  cen- 
turions. These  were  of  diti'erent  ranks  or  degrees 
of  promotion  and  importance,  according  to  the 
position  occupied  in  battle  by  their  special  com- 
pany or  maniple.  Though  langhed  at  for  their 
hob-nailed  shoes  and  thick  calves  (Juv.  Sat.  xvi. 
14.  24)  and  for  their  general  unkempt  roughness 
{ib.  xiv.  194),  these  officers  were  the  very  '  backbone 
of  the  army.'  Their  badge  of  office  was  the  vine- 
rod  {vitii),  which  they  freely  used  on  the  men, 
even  without  the  authorization  of  the  tribune 
(cf.  Tacitus  Annal.  i.  23).  Polybius  describes  the 
ideal  centurion  as  '  not  so  much  overventuresome 
and  fond  of  danger  as  possessing  the  faculty  for 
command,  steady  and  serious  ((Safieis  rais  ipirxaTs) ; 
not  prone  to  rush  into  battle  nor  eager  to  strike 
the  first  blow,  but  ready  to  die  in  defence  of 
their  posts  if  their  men  are  overborne  by  num- 
bers and  hard  pressed '  (\i.  24 ;  cf.  A'egetius, 
ii.  14). 

The  centurions  mentioned  in  the  NT  are  attrac- 
tive specimens  of  the  manly,  serious-minded, 
generous  Roman.  In  the  Gospel  narrative  two 
centurions  find  a  place.  The  one  (Mt  S'"  1|  Lk 
7'""")  resident  in  Capernaum  may  probably  have 
been  in  Herod's  service  ;  but  in  any  case  he  was  a 
Gentile,  for  in  his  humble  faith  Jesus  sees  the 
lirst-fniits  of  a  world  redeemed,  and  recognizes 
that  even  if  '  the  children  of  the  kingdom '  prefer 
the  outer  darkness  to  the  light  and  joy  within,  the 
provided  feast  wUl  still  be  furnished  with  guests. 
The  distinctive  characteristic  of  this  centurion's 
faith  was  his  persuasion  that  a,  word  of  command 
uttered  by  Jesus  could  set  in  motion  forces  suffi- 
cient for  the  emergency,  even  as  the  K^Xeiw/ia  of 
the  Roman  officer  at  once  accomplished  his  will. 
The  iidyov  fliri  X(i7<^  is  the  key  to  the  incident,  and 
absolutely  differentiates  this  centurion  from  tlie 
^affiXu-As  of  Jn  4*",  who  insisted  that  Jesus  should 
'go  down'  and  heal  his  son. 

The  centurion  charged  with  superintending  the 
crucifixion  of  Jesus  (Mk  15^  II  Mt  27=*  ||  Lk  2:{^') 
paid  so  striking  and  unexpected  a  tribute  to  His 
greatness,  that  it  finds  a  ]il;iic  in  i;i.  h  of  tlie 
Synoptic  Gospels.  The  terms  (.f  i!i,.  tulaito  are 
best  understood  from  the  ac<i)uiit  of  St.  Luke, 
who  fretiuently  preserves  what  is  e\i(lently  the 
original  form  o"f  a  saying.  Certainly  '  .son  of  God ' 
in  the  mouth  of  a  Roman  could  mean  little  more 
than  St.  Luke's  'just  man.'  But  the  expression 
'son  of  God' might  be  suggested  by  the  'Father' 
in  our  Lord's  last  cry. 

LiTERAxrRB.— Ranlsa^■•s  Rout.  AiUiij.  .v.r. ;  St.  Geor«re  .Stock's 
CfFsar  de  B.  QaU.  pp.  203-215  ;  J.  E.  B.  Mayor's  Jumml,  notes 
on  passat'es  cited  above.  M.VKCUS  DODS. 


CEPHAS.-See  Peter. 
CEREMONIAL  LAW.-See  Law. 


CERTAINTY.— The  ways  in  which  'certainty' 
is  expressed  in  the  Gospels  are  frequently  indirect. 
So  far,  however,  as  certainty  is  expressed  by  direct 
terms,  various  phrases  are  employed  for  the  pur- 
pose. Of  these  the  most  frequent  are  d<r0aXijs  and 
its  derivatives  do-^aXifu,  aj<pdXcia,  d<r<pa\Q!.  These 
always  express  objective  security ;  the  certainty 
which  is  or  might  be  verified,  and  which  consists 
in  an  accurate  correspondence  with  facts. 

Thus  in  his  preface  St.  Luke  (1-*)  says  he  has  'traced  the 
course  of  all  things  accurately  .  .  .  that  thou  mightest  know 
the  certainty  .  .  . '  (i»^«X£i«,  cf.  Ac  623,  i  Th  53) ;  the  traitor 
says,  '  Take  him  and  lead  him  away  safely '  (Mk  14**  iff^Xauf ,  cf. 


„ , -      , elsewhere  in  NT. 

\c  215*  2230  25=6,  Ph  31,  He  619.  The  derivatives  of  /3£,a«.« 
are  also  employed,  but  with  a  force  more  or  .Jess  distlnctl.v 
moral  or  subjective.  Thus  the  disciples  are  said  to  have 
*  preached  everywhere,  the  Lord  working  with  them  and  con- 
firming the  word  '  (Mk  16-"<i  ,363«je«,  cf.  Ro  15»,  1  Co  16. «,  2  Co 
1«",  Col  27,  He  23  139).  Sometimes  it  is  the  disciples  themselves 
who  are  'confirmed'  or  'stablished.'  Outside  the  Gospels 
tzi^aio<  and  p(pati^^-»-  occur  with  some  frequency,  being  specially 
characteristic  ol  the  Ep.  to  Heb.  (cf.  2  P  liO- ",  Ro  418,  h  co  17. 
He  22  36  616  19  917,  Ph  17).  In  Lk  23^7  i,,i,!  occurs,  '  Certainlj 
this  was  a  righteous  man  ' ;  and  in  Lk  4'^  -rayTas-,  '  Doubtless  ve 
H  ill  say  to  me  ... '  (cf.  Ac  2122  os*,  1  Co  91") ;  but  these  are 
adverbial  qualitatives  of  no  great  importance.  [It  is  hardly 
necessary  to  remark  that  in  the  great  majority  of  the  passages 
in  w  hich  the  word  '  certain '  occurs  in  the  English  versions,  it 
renders  the  indefinite  pronoun  t*,-,  where  it  has  nothing  to  do 
with  certainty,  but  is  merely  an  idiomatic  phrase  equivalent  to 
'  some  '  in  a  quite  indefinite  sense]. 

With  this  use  of  language  it  is  instructive  to  compare  the 
opposite  ■  tmcertainty '  which  is  expressed  by  i-rcfix,  i.Ttfiefuij, 
commonly  translated  '  perplexed,*  though  the  meaning  is  rather 
that  of  hesitancy  than  of  perplexity,  as  one  finds  no  way  out  of 
a  difficulty,  and  so  is  brought  to"  pause.  These  words  occur 
in  Lk  2125  and  Jn  1322  "doubting  of  whom  he  spake'  (cf.  Ac;252i', 
2  Co  48,  Gal  420).  It  is  also  worth  while  to  compare  such  occa- 
sional use  of  T-Wif  as  *  given  assurance  unto  all  men '  (Ac  1731) ; 
and  that  of  nkr.pc^iptx,  •  full  assurance '  (Col  22, 1  Th  15,  He  6"). 

~         part   from   sjiecial   ter 


tainty,  tlie  broad  fact  itself  has,  of  course,  a  large 
l)lace  in  the  Gospels  and  in  the  mind  of  the  Lord 
Jesus.  This  is  usually  repre.sented  by  saying  that 
a  person  or  a  thing  is  '  known,'  where  otSa  is  the 
verb  employed.  This  verb  is  a  '  perfect-present,' 
.and  by  its  very  form  indicates  the  possession  of 
knowledge,  not  its  acquirement.  In  a  number  of 
passages  the  sense  Is  accordingly  best  rendered  not 
by  '  I  know,'  but  by  '  I  am  suie  of.' 

The  following  are  instances  from  the  Gospels  of  this  way  of 
expressing  certainty :— '  Fear  ye  not,  for  i  am  ceruin  that  ye 
are  seeking  Jesus  who  was  crucified '  (Mt  285)  ;  '  Master,  we  are 
certain  that  thou  speakest  and  teachest  straightforwardly "  (Lk 
2021) ;  •  We  speak  w  hat  we  are  certain  of,  and  bear  evidence  of 
what  we  have  seen  '  (Jn  311) ;  •  No  longer  do  we  believe  through 
thv  report,  for  we  ovirselves  have  heard  and  are  certain  '  (4*2) ; 
'  What  sign  doest  thou  that  we  may  feel  certainty,  and  may 
trust  thee?'  (030);  'This  is  Jesus  tlie  son  of  Joseph  ;  we  are 
certain  of  his  father  and  mother'  (6*-,  cf.  7-'7) ;  'Give  glory  to 
God;  we  are  certain  this  man  is  a  sinner.  He  therefore 
answered,  If  he  is  a  sinner  I  am  not  so  certain ;  of  one  thing  I 
am  certain,  that,  being  blind,  henceforth  I  see '  (92*-  »)  ;  '  Even 
now  I  am  certain  that  whatsoever  thou  mayest  ask  of  God,  God 
will  give  thee '  (I122)  ;  '  He  that  hath  seen  beareth  witness,  and 
his  witness  is  true  (i>,r9.>;i),  and  he  is  certain  that  he  speaketh 
true  (iXrK),  that  ye  also  may  believe '  (1935,  ,.f.  -jiil).  Some- 
times oiS«  is  used  of  God's  knowledge  with  its  unerring  cer- 
tainty; and  at  other  times  of  man's  knowledge  of  God  which 
springs  from  ihtsoikiI  trii^L  ami  love. 

It  is  cIku.ii  t.ii-li.  that  the  grounds  on  which 
certainty  is  slniwn  in  tlie  Gospels  to  rest  are  moral 
gromids  rather  than  intellectual ;  for  commonly  it 
is  moral  certitude,  not  scientific  security,  Iwhich 
is  in  view.  On  the  one  hand,  the  foundation  of 
certainty  is  the  faithfulness  of  God :  this  is  well 
illustrated  in  the  case  of  Zacharias  (Lk  1'"--'"),  and 
in  that  of  Mary  (vv.»'-38).  On  the  other  hand, 
certainty  is  won  through  men's  trust  (Triffris)  in 
God  or  in  Christ.  So  the  Lord  said,  '  Whosoever 
shall  say  unto  this  mountain  .  .  .  and  shall  not 
doubt  {SiaKpha)  in  his  heart,  but  shall  believe  .  .  . 
he  shall  have  it '  (Mk  1 123 1|  IMt  212').  To  Peter  as 
he  be"an  to  fear  and  sink  He  said,  '  O  thou  of 
little  faith,  wherefore  didst  thou  doubt ; '  (5«rTdfu, 


i 


CHAFF 


CHANCE 


Mt  14^').  And  when  it  is  recorded  of  the  disciples 
to  whom  tlie  Lord  appeared  after  His  resurrection, 
that  '  they  saw  him,  and  worshipped,  but  some 
doubted '  (Sdrrdfu,  2S''j,  He  met  this  mixed  regard 
by  a  great  personal  affirmation,  and  a  great  charge 
laid  on  them,  which  formed  in  point  of  fact  the 
strongest  appeal  to  their  most  certain  trust.  See, 
further,  art.  Assurance. 

LiTBRATUEF..— See  the  lit.  at  Assurance,  and  add— E.  White, 
Certainty  in  Religion;  .1.  Clifford,  Christian  Certainties; 
W.  R.  Harper,  Religion  and  the  Higher  Life,  pp.  88-100  ;  G.  A. 
Coe,  Religion  of  a  Mature  Mind,  109-132 ;  A.  E.  Garvie,  The 
Gospel  for  To-daii,  M;  Princeton  Theol.  Rev.  i.  138  (Warfleld) ; 
Uomiletic Rev.  xlvi  413 (Wright);  Expos.  Times,  vii.  438,  633. 

E.  P.  Boys-Smith. 
CHAFF.— The  term  used  in  English  to  denote 
the  protective  coverings  and  appendages  of  the 
growing  corn — the  glumes,  scales,  and  awns — after 
they  have  been  dried  in  the  ripening  of  the  plant 
and  in  the  wind  and  sun,  and  separated  from  the 
grain  and  straw.  The  Greek  word  is  &xvpoii  (Lat. 
palea),  '  mostly  used  in  plural  for  chaff,  bran, 
liusks '  (Liddeli  and  Scott) ;  perhaps  derived  from 
i-X,  indicating  its  pointed  nature.  But  the  older 
authorities,  and  most  writers  on  the  Greek  of  the 
NT,  incline  to  regard  the  dxvpov  as  including  the 
cut  or  brokenup  straw  which  mingles  with  the 
chaft'  proper. 

Schleusner,  controvertini?  the  opinion  of  previous  lexico- 
Kraphers,  says  that  the  word  for  the  outer  integuments  (,palea) 
is  Hx^^i,  and  that  ecx^po"  includes  totum  calamitm /rumenti  inde 
a  radice  usque  ad  spicam.  quae  grana  contlnet,  and  that  it  is 
equivalent  to  the  Heb.  [nn  tebhen ;  and  Post  (art.  '  Straw '  in 
Hastings'  DE)  suggests  the  use  of  the  Arab,  word  tihn,  which 
denotes  the  n^'ngled  chaff  and  cut  or  broken  straw. 

In  reaping  it  was  often  the  jiractice  to  leave  all 
tlie  straw,  except  an  inch  or  two  cut  off  with  the 
ear.  The  dust  of  the  chaff  is  in  the  LXX  x^oCs 
( Ps  1*  35=,  Is  29'',  Hos  13»),  and  once  x^oCs  ax^pov 
(Is  17"),  and  once  Konopri!  (Job  21'*). 

The  combination  of  broken  straw  with  the  chaff 
is  explained  by  the  process  of  harvesting,  thresh- 
ing, and  winnowing  in  Palestinian  agriculture. 
The  threshing-machine,  or  threshing-waggon  (see 
art.  'Agriculture'  in  Hastings'  DB),  Avhich,  by 
repeatedly  passing  over  the  sheaves,  broke  up  the 
short  straw  into  fragments,  separated  the  grain 
from  its  dried  envelopes.  The  threshing-floor  was 
so  placed,  usually  in  an  elevated  and  breezy  posi- 
tion, that  the  wind  could  be  utilized  to  separate 
the  lighter,  heavier,  and  heaviest  materials  from 
one  another,  and  the  method  of  winnowing  secured 
that  the  grain  should  fall  in  the  centre,  the  heavier 
straw  at  a  small  distance  from  the  grain  heap, 
whilethe  broken  strawandchaff(ilx''p<"')were  carried 
away  by  the  wind,  either  out  of  the  threshing-floor, 
or  so  that  it  could  be  swept  together  for  burning. 
The  complete  separation  of  the  chaff,  which  in- 
cluded fragments  of  the  awns  and  straw,  from  the 
corn  was  effected  by  means  of  the  winnowing-fan 
(irriov),  the  broad  shallow  shovel  with  which  corn 
after  threshing  was  thrown  up  against  the  wind, 
and  so  finally  cleansed  of  the  chaff".  See  art. 
'  Shovel '  in  Hastings'  DB.  This  final  stage  of  tlie 
winnowing  process  is  referred  to  by  John  the 
Baptist  in  the  only  occurrences  of  the  word  '  chaff' 
in  the  NT  (Mt  3'-,  Lk  3"). 

The  imagery  of  the  tlireshing-floor  was  finely 
adapted  to  e.xpress  the  sweeping  reform  of  the 
national  life  which  the  ardent  soul  of  the  Baptist 
expected  to  characterize  the  coming  of  the  Jewish 
Messiah.  The  chaff  well  represented  (1)  the  in- 
sincerity and  hypocrisy  of  the  national  religious 
leaders,  profession  without  substance,  looking  at  a 
distance  like  grain,  but  proving  on  near  inspection 
to  be  chaff";  and  (2)  the  light  irresponsibility,  the 
absence  of  true  principle,  in  the  people  who  accepted 
this  formalism  and  pretence  as  genuine  grain  of 
godliness.     And  the  winnowing  represented   tlie 


readiness  with  which  such  unsubstantial  elements 
of  national  character  would  be  carried  away  by 
the  first  wind  of  trial,  or  burnt  up  by  the  divinely 
authorized  Messiah,  whose  coming  John  expected 
to  be  with  swift  discrimination  and  judgment. 
John  looked  for  the  immediate  separation  of  the 
false  from  the  true,  the  bad  from  the  good.  The 
Christ  would  come  as  Malachi  (3'-°)  predicted, 
with  searching  and  striking  condemnation  of  all 
that  was  worthless  and  injurious;  and  the  com- 
parative slowness  and  indirectness  of  our  Lord's 
method  was  the  moving  cause  of  his  perplexed 
question,  when  he  heard  in  the  prison  the  works  of 
Christ,  and  sent  his  disciples  to  ask,  'Art  thou 
he  that  should  come,  or  look  we  for  another  2' 
(Mt  IP,  Lk  7'"). 

Literature. — Mackie,  Bible  Manners  and  Customs,  pp.  34-36 ; 
Tristram,  Eastern  Customs  in  Bible  Lands,  ch.  6 ;  Jahn,  Bibli- 
cal Archaeology,  pp.  66-73;  Thomson,  Land  and  the  Book,  pp. 
.138-540;  Nowack,  Heb.  Arch.  i.  233 f.;  artt.  'Agriculture' 
'  Chaff,' '  Straw,'  in  Hastings'  DB.  T.  H.  WRIGHT. 

CHAINS.— The  usual  NT  word  for  'chain'  is 
aXums.  Tidai  (Mk  5*  AV  and  KV  fetters)  are  for 
binding  the  feet.  5e(riJ.6t  is  a  more  general  term, 
meaning  anything  to  tie  or  fasten.  AV  renders 
Se<Tfiol,  'chains,'  in  Jude  ",  but  RV  substitutes 
'bonds.'  For  critical  reasons  'chains'  disappears 
from  2  P  2*. 

In  NT  chains  invariably  denote  instruments  for 
binding,  or  restraining  the  liberty  of  the  person, 
e.g.  the  demoniac  (Mk  5'),  St.  Peter  (Ac  12"),  the 
dragon  (Rev.  20').  Imbeciles  appear  always  to 
have  received  consideration,  if  not  even  reverence, 
in  the  East ;  but  demoniacs,  and  persons  suffering 
from  certain  forms  of  delirium,  have  been  treated 
with  horrible  cruelty.  Often  they  are  loaded  with 
chains  and  bound  to  a  staple  firmly  fixed  in  the 
ground.  The  tortures  apijlied  are  ostensibly  for 
the  purpose  of  driving  out  the  evil  spirit  that 
possesses  them. 

Under  the  Roman  law,  vincula  was  a  form  of 
punishment,  or  of  safe  custody.  The  prisoner  was 
chained  to  a  soldier,  who  was  responsible  for  his 
safe  keeping.  The  chain  was  fastened  round  the 
right  wrist  of  the  prisoner  and  the  left  wrist  of  his 
guard.  To  this  chain  St.  Paul  refers  (Ac  282",  2  Ti 
1"*).  For  greater  safety  two  soldiers  might  be 
assigned  as  guards  to  one  prisoner,  a  hand  of  each 
being  chained  to  one  of  his.  Thus  St.  I'eter  was 
confined  in  the  stormy  days  of  the  persecution  (Ac 
12«) ;  and  St.  Paul,  when  Lysias  thought  him  a 
dangerous  person  (Ac  2P^).  The  use  of  viSai  in 
their  modern  form  may  be  seen  to-day  at  Acre,  in 
the  groups  of  Turkish  prisoners  chained  together 
by  the  ankles.  W.  EwiNG. 

CHAMBER.— See  Closet,  and  Guest-Chamber. 

CHANCE. — The  word  occurs  only  once  in  EV  of 
tlie  Gospels,  viz.  in  Lk  10^',  where  in  the  parable 
of  the  Good  Samaritan  the  priest  is  said  to  have 
been  going  down  that  way  'by  chance.'     In  the 


tlie  phrase  is  Karci  (jityKvplay,  Vulg.  accidit 
ut.  ine  word  avyKvpia  is  found  nowhere  else  in 
NT,  and  rarely  in  the  Gr.  authors.  The  idea  of 
'  ehance '  is  ordinarily  expressed  in  Gr.  by  the  nouns 
Tuxi;,  ffmrvxla,  or  by  tlie  verb  ti'tx""'"-  Neither  of 
these  nouns  occurs  in  NT,  and  tlie  verb,  in  its  in- 
transitive sense  of  '  chancing '  or  '  happening,'  but 
rarely.  Exarajjles  are  1  Co  15*'  ei  rtixoi  (rlrov,  which 
EV  translates  '  it  may  cliance  of  wheat '  (the  only 
other  occasion  on  which  the  word  '  chance '  is  found 
in  EV  of  NT),  and  14'»  a'  rvxoi,  EV  '  it  may  be.' 


lening,-  oniy  once,  ana  tnai  is,  curiously 
enough,  in  TR  reading  of  Lk  IQM,  the  verse  iiiimedintely  pre- 
ceding the  one  under  consideration,  where  the  robbern  are  9^x4 


CHANCE 


CHARACTER 


to  have  left  their  victim 
licre,  as  Jle.ver  and  other.  ' 
valent  to  ct-rn,  though  ( i  t 


simply  equi- 


regarded  it.    The  expre-  li.ilf  dead  as  he 

chanced  to  be.'   The  sh.id.  ,  i  -    _ ,  ;- i  ,  u  the  robbers  left 

him  in  complete  indifference  lo  jus  laif,  to  live  or  die  just  as 
it  might  happen.  The  fact,  however,  tliat  ■n/5-;c«»o>T«  is  lacking 
in  NBDLS,  al.  justifies  its  omission  from  the  text  by  WH  and 
other  critical  etlitors. 

Unlike  tvxv  and  avvTuxia.,  avyKvpla  does  not  denote 
'  chance'  in  the  proper  sense  of  the  word,  i.i'.  some- 
thing which  '  falls  out '  independently  of  the  ordi- 
nai-y  laws  of  causation  ('chance' comes  fiom  the 
Low  Lat.  cac/entia,  '  a  falling,'  and  may  have  heen 
suggested  hy  the  falling  of  the  dice  from  a  dice- 
box).  Derived  as  it  is  from  (rvv  and  Kvpiui  ('fall  in 
with '),  it  coiTesponds  almost  exactly  to  our  word 
'  coincidence.'  All  that  our  Lord's  use  of  the  phrase 
Kara  avyKvplaf  accordingly  sugge.sts  Is,  that  by  a 
coincidence  of  events  a  certain  priest  came  by  just 
as  the  wounded  traveller  lay  helpless  on  the  road. 
And,  as  Godet  remarks.  He  may  even  have  used 
the  exi)ression  with  a  kind  of  irony,  since  'it  Ls 
certainly  not  by  accident  that  the  narrator  brings 
those  two  personages  on  the  scene'  [Com.  on  Lk. 
inloc.). 

Apart  from  any  furtlier  occuiTence  of  the  word 
'  chance '  in  EV  of  the  Gospels,  the  idea  of  hap  or 
chance  may  seem  to  be  conveyed  by  the  iLse  of 
'haply'  in  Mk  IP^,  where  Je.'ius  is  said  to  have 
come  to  the  lig-tree,  '  if  haply  he  miglit  find  any- 
thing thereon,'  and  in  Lk  \i-^,  where  He  Himself 
.says  of  the  builder  who  could  not  finish  his  tower, 
'  lest  haply  Avhen  he  hath  laid  a  foundation,  and  Is 
not  able  to  finish  it.'  But  in  botli  cases  we  have 
to  do  in  tlie  ori^nal  simply  with  conjunctions  and 
particles,  d  apa  in  the  one  passage  and  p-rj  ttots  in 
the  other. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  idea  of  chance  was  jvs 
foreign  to  the  ancient  Jewish  a.s  to  tlie  modern 
scientific  mind  ;  for  while  the  scientist  holds  that 
the  universal  reign  of  law  renders  the  operation  of 
chance  impossible,  the  Hebrew  may  be  said  to 
have  telieved  (cf.  Pr  IfV")  ,,f  ,.^,.r\  ..-railed  cliancc 
that  'Eternal  God  tliii  . 'r  :  -  .\\,\  j^uide.'  In 
l»pular  language  thi'  id.  ;■  .it  1 1,,,,  ^  luippening  by 
chance  appears  to  lie  .1.111111  i.u  m  l.dtli  OT  anil 
NT  (cf.  1  S  6",  Ec9",  1  Co  lo-''),  .-is  it  constantly  is 
among  our.selve.s.  But  in  the  ca.se  of  the  Scripture 
writers,  at  all  events,  it  denoted  only  human 
ignorance  of  proximate  causes,  not  the  occurrence 
of  events  indeiiendently  of  the  Divine  will  (with 
1  S  &  cf.  w.^,  with  Ec  9"  cf.  v.i,  with  1  Co  15"  cf. 
3',  Gal  6"). 

As  Ijearing  ujjon  the  subject  of  chance,  reference 
may  be  mail.-  t.i  tlir  casting  of  lots  by  the  Roman 
solduM>  l.ir  111.,  -.tiinents  of  Jesus.  The  incident 
is  meiitiiincil  liy  (xi-iy  one  of  the  Evangelists,  and 
is  exphiini.-(l  l,y  .lohn  as  referring  only  to  HLs  seam- 
le.ss  tunic  (Mt  27^\  .Mk  15-',  Lk  SS-'',  Jn  19=3- «). 
Among  the  Jews  the  casting  of  lots  was  regarded 
not  as  a  reference  of  a  question  to  the  fickleness 
of  chance,  but  as  a  solemn  appeal  to  the  Divine 
jud^ient  (cf.  Pr  l&^).  And  though  by  the  time 
of  Christ  such  a  game  of  chance  as  dice-playing 
(Ki//Seia)  liad  teen  introduced  into  Palestine  (cf.  St. 
Paul's  ev  T5  Kv^dq.  tQ>v  aveptliiruv,  '  by  the  sleight  of 
men,'  lit.  '  by  the  dice-playing,'  because  of  the 
trickery  and  cheating  which  had  come  to  Ix; 
a.s.sociated  ^Wth  the  game),  it  was  repudiated  by 
those  wlio  adhered  strictly  to  the  Jewish  law  (see 
Schiirer,  HJP  II.  i.  36).  With  the  Roman  soldiers 
it  was  otherwise.  Dice  are  thought  by  some  to 
have  been  an  invention  of  the  Romans,  and  cer- 
tainly dicing  was  very  common  among  them.  In 
his  famous  '  Crucifixion '  in  the  Church  of  Sta. 
Maria degli  Angioli  at  Lugano,  Luini  represents  the 
four  soldiers  a.s  rising  from  a  game  of  dice  to  dis- 
imtt-  witii  one  another  the  possession  of  the  .seam- 


less robe.  Anil  more  than  one  writer  who  li;us  sought 
to  describe  the  awful  scene  of  Calvary  has  con- 
sidered it  natural  to  suppose  that  the  soldiers 
would  amuse  themselves  diiring  the  hours  of  wait- 
in-j;  by  playing-  tlicir  favourite  g:ime  (see  Farrar, 
/.//;•  :.f  Christ",  a,J  lor.).  No  infi.ruiation  is  given 
us  liy  the  E\unyelists  as  to  the  manner  in  which 
the  hits  were  cast.  But  it  may  be  that  a  cast  of 
tlie  dice-box  Avas  the  plan  which  suggested  itself 
most  readily  to  those  rude  men,  and  that  tliej' 
actually  gambled  for  the  Saviour's  coat  while  He 
liung  above  them  on  the  cross,  dyin"  for  the  sins 
of  the  world.  See,  further,  art.  Lots  (Casting  of). 
J.  C.  Lambert. 

CHARACTER  may  be  defined  as  the  result  of  the 
interaction  between  a  personality  and  its  environ- 
ment; or,  if  the  word  is  used  in  its  special  and 
favourable  sense,  as  tlie  ad\antage  gained  by  per- 
sonality over  its  environment,  especially  by  the 
exercise  of  the  will.  In  the  terms  of  Aristotle 
(Nk.  Eth.  I.  vii.  15),  it  is  'an  energy  of  the  inner  life 
on  the  lines  of  \irtue.'  The  question  to  be  answered 
is.  How  have  the  life  and  gospel  of  Christ  made 
this  more  possible?  First,  He  diminished  tlie 
moral  weight  and  dread  of  life's  environment. 
Secondly,  He  enlarged  the  resources  and  opimr- 
tunities  of  personality. 

1.  The  following  are  some  of  the  powers  which 
the  soul  has  to  meet  in  conflict : — 

(1)  Suffering. — '  If  a  perfectly  good  man  foreknew 
what  was  going  to  happen  to  him,  he  would  co- 
operate with  nature  iu  both  falling  sick  and  dying 
and  being  maimed,  being  conscious  that  this  is  the 
particular  portion  assigned  to  him  in  the  arrange- 
ment of  the  Universe'  (Epictetus).  Christ  in- 
spired men  to  put  their  foot  on  disease  as  an  evil 
(Mt  108,  jik  i6i8),  and  won  His  first  fame  by  His 
own  powers  of  healing  (Mt  4^-=^'  U*'^  etc.).  Such 
deeds  were  good  on  the  Sabbath  day  (Lk  e'"^-),  for 
it  was  a  breaking  of  Satan's  tyranny  (Lk  13'"). 

(2)  Death. — He  died  to '  deliver  them  who  through 
fear  of  death  were  all  their  lifetime  subject  to 
lx)ndage '  (He  2'=).  Jesus  not  only  so  faced  death 
as  to  convince  a  Roman  centurion  and  a  dying 
criminal  that  He  was  more  than  man  (Jit  27°'',  Lk 
23*"),  but  did  not  in  His  teaching  allow  it  to  have 
a  decisive  place  in  life,  except  to  the  fool  (Lk  W"). 
He  spoke  of  it  as  a  sleep  (Jn  ll""^-),  which  the  good 
man  need  not  fear  (Mt  10^),  and  as  a  going  to  the 
Father  and  His  many  abiding-places  (Jn  H'-^). 

(3)  The  world.— 

'  If  but  the  Vine-  and  Love-abjuring  band 
Arc  in  the  Prophet's  Paradise  to  stand, 
Alack,  I  doubt  the  Prophet's  Paradise 
Were  empty  as  the  hollow  of  one's  hand '  (Omar). 

Jesus  was  in  complete  independence  of  all  that  the 
world  otters,  accepting  poverty  (Lk  9^*),  repudiat- 
ing popularity  (Jn  6"'),  not  expecting  to  be  waited 
on  (Mk  10''°).  'Be  of  good  courage,'  He  said,  'I 
have  overcome  the  world'  (Jn  16^");  and  on  ac- 
count of  the  promise  of  His  presence  His  disciples 
were  built  up  in  the  same  avTdpKeta  (Pli  4"). 

(4)  Racial  barriers. — '  It  is  .an  unlawful  tiling  for 
a  man  that  is  a  Jew  to  join  himself  or  come  unto 
one  of  another  nation '  (--^c  10^).  Jesus  struck  at 
the  limitations  of  race  prejudice  and  enmity  in  the 
parables  of  the  Good  Samaritan  (Lk  lO^"-)  and  the 
Last  Judgment  (Mt  253"f-).  Though  He  sought 
first  the  lost  sheep  of  the  house  of  Israel  (Mt  10"-), 
He  'opened  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven  to  all  be- 
lievers' (Mt  S'"-'",  cf.  Mk  7^),  and  thereby  achieved 
on  moral  lines  what  the  status  of  Roman  citizen- 
ship created  on  legal  lines.  His  short  career  was 
an  encounter  with  tlie  dead  hand  and  narrowing 
force  of  nationalism  (Mk  12^  Mt  21^'-'*),  and  it  was 
in  the  name  of  Son  of  !Man  that  He  lived  and  died. 

(5)  Caste  c/istiiidioiis. — '  It  was  the  hereditary 
disability  the  Aryans  had  succeeded  in  imposing 


CHAEACTER 


CHARACTER 


upon  races  they  despispd,  wlucli,  reacting  within 
their  own  circle  and  si  iin:jtli.iiia  1  .y  tlie  very  in- 
tolerance that  gave  it  lniih,  li;( .  iHune  such  bitter 
fruit  through  so  many  ,, 1111111. s'  (Kliys  Davids, 
Hibbert  Lectures).  'A  \\uikslH.ii  is  inrompatiblH 
with  anything  noble'  (Cicero).  .Icsus  kejit  the 
same  way  open  to  all  without  ri'^:ird  In  socinl  (ir 
religious  status  ;  did  not  reject  tiit-  rich  (Mt  S'  'J""-, 
Lk  7»8),  but  conuUM  tlioiv  wc.allli  a  diMidvunta-f 
(Mk  10=1--',  Lk  (;■'•.  !!.■  (I.ns<.  I  lis  ,-,„iip:niions 
from  men  who  w.i,.  m,.  lly  .il  ii.>  cbi.-s  (Mk  1"' 
2"),  was  knimn  :i<  thr  tiiciid  of  pnl.lii-;nis  and 
sinners  (Mtil",  i,k  I.V^).  .■md  tliri'W  ;i\vay  ilis  own 
triumph  tu  .J,i^.■  Z;irr!i;rus  :i,  m.iral  chance,  'foras- 
much as  lu-  also  is  a  s.m  of  Abraham  '  (Lk  19'-'"). 

(6)  Ffiiiiihf  n.i,tni/.  —  "i\>  every  individual,'  says 
Sir  Henry  jilaine,  referring  to  the  lioman  civiliza- 
tion, '  the  rule  of  conduct  is  the  law  of  his  home, 
of  which  his  parent  is  the  legislator.'  Though 
Jesus  maintained  the  sanctity  of  the  marriage  tie 
(Mt  lO*''),  anil  illustrated  as  well  as  taught  filial 
obedience  and  honour  (Lk  2'',  Jn  19*-  =',  Mk  7""-), 
He  broke  the  tlecisive  control  of  the  family  f<n- 
the  sake  of  the  individual  personality  (Mt  lO^^"" 
1248-60^  Lk  O™-''-  11-'---,  Mlc  Id-s-s"). 

2.  In  the  scn.iid  i.l.uc,  Clirist  enlarged  the  re- 
sources and  opinirtunilK^s  of  personality,  by  mak- 
ing the  soul  cons<ious  and  conliilent  of  a  new 
environment,  in  which  it  could  liiid  rclcnsi'  and 
reinforcement.  The  secret  uf  (his  siiirilual  cu- 
vironment  which  awakens  and  suslains  tin-  sniils 
faculties  of  faith,  hope,  and  love  is  graic,  in  w  liii  h 
alone  they  can  move  and  have  their  being.  'I'Ue 
essential  fact  of  grace  is  illustrated  in  the  (eaih- 
ing  of  Christ  chiefly  in  the  following  <lo<'tiincs — 
the  Divine  FaUierlMjod,  the  Divine  L'orgiveness, 
the  Divine  Indwellim^,  and  tlie  Divine  lieappear- 
ing.  AH  that  was  dim  or  distorted  in  the  human 
views  of  these  tint  lis,  A\liicli  mean  so  much  to 
personality  and  character,  He  rectified  and  made 
authoritative. 

(1)  The  clear  revelation  of  the  Divine  Fatherhood 
had  this  immense  bearing  on  character,  that  it 
brought  out  the  worth  of  the  individual  soul.  It 
is  not  necessary  here  to  argue  the  question  whether 
we  are  really  God's  sons,  apart  from  faitli  in  Clirist. 
It  is  enough  for  the  purpose  that  Christ  undoubt- 
edly used  the  truth  of  the  Divine  Fallierlio<id  .as  the 
chief  motive  to  the  new  ethic.  The  liisl  and  most 
important  efleet  on  character  is  tli.il  IIk-  stailing- 
point  is  trii^it.  Trust  in  (Jud  is  illu.straled  in 
contentment  with  circumstances,  courage  in  regard 
to  human  opposition.  Whatever  be  the  straitness 
of  life  and  however  menacing  the  future,  there  may 
well  be  trust  in  One  wlio  cares  for  (lie  individual 
with  more  than  the  ],nr|iose  and  solieilndeof  an 
earthly  father  iMl  (i^  7",  l.l;  I-!  ■"■  -  "1.  .\nd  as 
for  hostility,  it  is  well  woilli  standing  lirm  for 
truth  and  rigiiteousness,  tor  thus  tlie  approval  of 
the  Father  is  gained  (Mt  5"- '-  IG'-^"-',  Lk  12^"-,  Jn 
lo-"'  16''').  The  natural  vehicle  of  such  trust  is 
prayer,  which  Jesus  Himself  used  for  the  solution 
of  His  perplexities  and  the  bearing  of  His  burdens 
(Lk  10=',  Mk  14-ete.),and«hi.h  the  diM-ipl,  s  wen. 
also  to  use  freely  and  uruentlv  (Lk  1 1  ■  '  ■  Is'). 

This  leads  to  the  second  ciiaracteristie  of  a  life 
that  acts  on  the  teaching  of  tlie  Divine  Fathi>rhooJ 
--its  religion  will  be  in  .spirit  and  truth  (Jn  4-^). 
Prayer  is  no  mere  performance,  but  secret  and  real 
(Mt  6''-'*),  in  faith  (Mk  ll---'),  with  a  softened 
heart  (Mk  ll'-^'),  ami  h«ddng  for  the  highest 
things  (Jn  15'"  16=«).  Ki  li,L;ion  is  not  a  matter  of 
external  or  traditional  e..ni|inl,-inn.  hut  rests  upon 
a  gospel   of  Divine   Iom.   (Mt    II   •  j:;',  .In  I)-"- «). 

taneon-,  and  Miir.-re  lil.e  ,|ii|,|  |„,.kI  i  M  !.   lo'     ■'■■■-14» 

Mt    IS^'-^-l,  and    the    fniit    ol    leal     Lloulil    i.lll    15»). 

The  euiisumuuaiou  uf  life  is  to  he  so  sauetilicd  by 


ei','en'y'(ML 
hood  is  tl 
charity.  '1 
Rule,'  whit 
drawn  froi 


ruth  as  to  enjoy  tJod  as  Christ  the  Son  Him- 

d  I  he  Ik  ,1  ling  of  the  Divine  Fatherhood  on  our 
iciiis  lo  our  fellows  produces  a.  wise  tolerance. 
Iisri|i|,  ,  of  Christ  are  to  imitate  the  character 
ini  wlio  'niaketh  his  sun  to  rise  on  the  evil 
the  ijnod,  and  sendeth  rain  on  the  just  and  on 
,'  and  refuse  to  treat  any  man  as  an 
,V  ■  '■ ).  In.leed,  the  truth  of  the  Father- 
e  ,^reat  inspiraliiiii  to  kindness  and 
'he  p.isiti\e  i-haracter  of  the  'Golden 
h  is  Us  Christian  disl inet ion,_is  directly 
11  the  ways  of  the  'Father  in  heaven' 
(Mt  ?"• '"),  and  the  blessedness  of  peacemakers  is 
in  being  called  sons  of  Ciod  (Mt  5').  The  parable 
of  the  Good  Samaritan  (Lk  lO-^-^')  illustrates  in 
particular  what  the  parable  of  the  Great  Assize 
(Mt  2u^'"'"')  sets  forth  with  ideal  completeness,  that 
there  is  no  real  love  to  Ciod  which  is  not  ex- 
pressed in  spontaneous  and  appropriate  help  to 
every  human  being  that  requires  it.  Thus  in  the 
teaching  of  Christ  went  forth  'an  edict  of  Uni- 
versal Love';  'humanity  was  changed  from  a 
restraint  to  a  motive  (Ecce  Jlomo,  cli.  10).'  And 
that  this  was  the  secret  of  the  Christian  message, 
is  indicated  in  the  parting c(hii mission,  '*'■••  ye  and 
make  disciples  of  all  the  nations,  ba[itiziiig  them 
into  the  name  of  the  Father  and  of  the  Sun  and  of 
the  Holy  Ghost'  (Mt28'''). 

(2)  The  gospel  of  Divine  Forgiveness  has  had  a 
distinctive  and  powerful  effect  upon  the  characters 
of  those  w  ho  have  accepted  it.  Indeed,  it  has  pro- 
dneed  a  new  type  of  charaeler,  wliiili  e.aii  be  de- 
seriheil  only  as  being  born  a,i;aiii(du  :f\  2  Co  5''-"*). 
Forgiveness  was  by  no  means  a  new  idea,  for  it  has 
never  been  set  forth  willi  more  beauty  and  com- 
pleteness th.-m  in  tlierroi-lnisand  the  Psalmists  of 
the  Old  Testanienl.  I'.nL  .h -n,  was  the  first  to 
apply  it  to  the  individual  soul  with  the  view  of  pro- 
dmili-  i'  (I  :  irirr  of  a  ihild  of  the  Kingdom ; 
and  ,  ■  i  ,  \.  Iiieli  made  His  teaching  seem 
ri-\>'':  I  .x-eii  I.:a-elienious  in  the  eyes  of 

tl,"  ;ais:.,i:,a,  01  the  Cid  Covenant  (Mk  25-'-,  Lk 
7"""''"}.  The  average  good  person  is  now  as  much 
as  ever  inclined  to  resent  the  'opening  of  the 
Kingdom  of  heaven  to  all  believers'  through  the 
remission  of  sins.  Ifc  contradicts  the  view  accepted 
hy  nil  avera'je  inovalisls  lliai.  il  i^  by  the  mainten- 
.a'liee  of  virl  ne  thai  1m:i\-i'ii  niu~l  lie  won,  and  that 
losen  the  bands 
iiy  as  a  caution, 
;,  «  ho  treat  the 
lot(ie.  and  argue 
.nnd,'  hut  also 
thing  apart 


cmlv 


agamst  all  who  piearli  laiih  ..     ^ 

from  ethical  enthusiasm.  Ihit  Si.  r.nil  li.id  learned 
the  secret  of  his  Master  when  he  Hung  himself 
into  the  advanced  ]H,-ilioTi  of  '  jnstilieation  by 
faith.'  It»:i  .1'  u  II  !i~elf  who  had  the  daring 
originalil  \  'o  I         .  ter  on  a  new  foundation 

without  f.'  ,1      :     I  .  .  it  (Lk  7"-™,  Mt  26-'-  =»). 

Itnmsl,    1,    •  .        .    I   ■   icnicmbcred  that  it  was 
not  so  murli    ih.-    lunaiii'm    of   .T.-us   (o  set  up  a 

ii\'al  tyi f  eh,ur;Mii'r,  as  in  re-lore  lie'  character 

of  tho^e  «lio  had  In  ;  il  ;  lo  ■a\e  a  new  ehance  to 
the  personality  thai  was  overh.naie  and  fettered 
by  its  environment.  lie  was  essentially  a  physi- 
cian of  the  sick  (Lk  5-'"^-),  a  seeker  off  the  lost 
(Lk  15.  19'",  Mt  18'-"-),  a  giver  of  rest  to  the 
heavy  laden  (Mt  ll-s"-),  fulfilling  the  words,  'He 
shall  be  called  Jesus  :  fm-  he  shall  save  his  people 
from  their  sins'  (Mt  I',  ef.  .In  3").  The  great 
contribution,  then,  to  the  foiniingof  character  in 
the  gospel  of  F'orgiveiiess  is  ii.jL  that  it  adds  any- 
thing to  the  ideal  of  virtue,  but  that  it  unseals  the 
great  motive  of  humble  and  adoring  gratitude, 
and  opens  the  way  for  that  tide  of  love  which  is 
itself  the  fullilling  of  the  Law  (Lk  7"  IS"-  ■').     The 


280 


CHAKACTER 


CHARACTER 


business  of  Jesus  was  not  the  chiselling  and  polish- 
ing of  character,  but  primarily  its  creation  among 
the  multitudes  who  would  be  shut  out  by  the 
Pharisees  from  the  kingdom  of  righteousness.  The 
gospel  does  not  so  much  teach  now  to  be  good  as 
why  to  be  good.  Yet  it  must  be  admitted  that  in 
this  teaching  of  grace  as  a  redeeming  power,  Jesus 
did  not  simply  profess  to  level  sinners  up  to  the 
virtuous.  Rather  He  made  the  beatitude  of  the 
forgiven  appear  in  comparison  with  the  self-com- 
placency of  the  virtuous  as  sunshine  to  moonlight 
(Lk  6"-^  IS^i-").  The  result  of  thus  opening  the 
fountains  of  a  great  deep  was  to  be  seen  in  a  new 
humility  and  tenderness,  an  une.\anipled  moral 
scrupulousness  and  solicitude,  for  the  pride  of  the 
natural  man  is  overwhelmed  by  the  sense  of  what 
he  owes  (Mt  IS-^-^,  John  21'=-i»,  Gal  2-",  Col  3'-  "). 
(3)  The  third  illustration  of  grace  through  which 
the  scattered  forces  of  character  can  be  regathered 
is  the  Divine  Indwelling,  which,  although  not  made 
conspicuous  in  the  Synoptists,  is  essential  to  the 
Christian  conception  of  character.  The  remark- 
able transformation  which  came  over  tlie  chief 
Apostles  after  the  events  of  Calvary  and  the 
Garden,  was  expressly  attributed  by  them  to  the 
fulfilment  of  Christ's  promise  to  return  and  dwell 
in  them  through  the  Spirit  (Ac  19'''  2'"-  =»,  Jn 
J4i5-i8|  The  character  that  has  learned  its  worth 
from  the  Divine  Fatherhood,  and  found  its  release 
in  the  Divine  P'orgiveness,  gains  its  strength  and 
means  of  independence  from  the  Divine  Indwell- 
ing. The  real  strength  of  character  from  tlie 
Christian  point  of  view  lies  in  the  sense  of  weak- 
ness and  the  dependence  on  grace.  Its  ideal  is 
not  self-possession  and  self-complacency,  but  a 
possession  by  Christ  (Gal  S-""),  and  a  pleasing  of 
Christ  (Ph  l^").  And  because  its  standard  is  so 
higli,  namely,  the  perfection  of  God  Himself  (Mt 
S**),  the  only  chance  of  attaining  it  is  to  realize 
that  the  sufficient  power  comes  from  the  imparted 
life  (Jn  20='-23),  to  take  the  yoke  of  Christ  (Mt 
11'"),  or  to  abide  in  Him  (Jn  is*).  If  we  can  rely 
on  God's  Fatherhood,  we  can  be  sure  He  will  give 
the  best  gift,  the  Holy  Spirit  (Lk  ll'^),  which  is 
to  enable  the  discinles  to  do  greater  things  even 
than  Jesus  Himself  (Jn  14'-),  because  t'hus  His 
own  power  will  be  multiplied  in  and  through  them 
(1  Jn4'^-"). 

From  the  Christian  point  of  view,  then,  char- 
acter depends  for  its  final  strength  and  beauty  on 
the  measure  of  its  surrender  and  receptivity.  Its 
turning-point  is  found  in  that  decisive  acceptance 
of  Christ  which  is  called  '  conversion,'  and  which 
is  not  mere  acquiescence,  but  allegiance  as  well, 
not  only  requiring  an  attitude  of  tlie  soul,  but  also 
its  adventure  with  and  for  the  Lord  it  has  recog- 
nized. When  room  has  been  made  for  the  Divine 
indwelling  in  immediate  .sequence  to  tlie  Divine 
forgiveness,  there  may  be  an  assurance  that 
tlirough  grace  and  witli  much  patience  the  fruits 
of  Christian  character  will  come  (Mk  4»- ="• -«"="). 
Christian  character  depends  on  Christ's  indwell- 
ivliic  h  :ire  more  appropriately 
i.illrd  •  fruits  of  the  Spirit,' 
V  ai.'  nut  the  attainment 
I'll!  til'-  growth  of  the  new, 
w  ni  till!  Spirit  of  life  which 
ui-  I...1M.'  In  Gal  5'---='  they 
w,  i(,y,  peace,  long-suffering, 
laithliiiness,  meekness,  tem- 
perance'; and  in  2  P  P" :  'faith,  virtue,  know- 
ledge, temperance,  patience,  godliness,  brotherly 
kindness,  and  love.'  From  which  it  wUl  be  seen 
that  there  is  no  ordered  system  of  ethics  in 
the  New  Testament ;  but  the  sum  and  substance 
of  it  is  that  life  is  primarily  to  be  the  gradual 
demonstration  of  the  Divine  indwelling,  that  the 
world  may  see  that  Christians  are  alike  i^ossessed 


ing  ;  for  its  vii 
termed  graces 
indicating  tin 
of  the  old  11: 
according  to  t 
is  in  Christ  .) 
are  thus  givei 
kindness,  goo. 


and  controlled  by  a  power  and  spirit  not  their 
own. 

(4)  There  is  one  further  contribution  to  the 
making  of  character  in  the  name  of  grace  which 
belongs  to  the  Christian  revelation,  viz.  the  Divine 
Renppcnring.  However  erroneously  it  was  con- 
ceived, there  can  be  no  doubt  that  it  exercised  a 
powerful  effect  upon  the  moral  qualities  of  the  early 
Christian  community  (1  Th  V- '"),  and  its  essential 
truth  is  still  responsible  for  much  that  is  unique 
in  Christian  ethics.  It  was  sufficient  to  slay 
worldly  ambitions  outright,  so  tliat  men  sold  their 
possessions  (Ac  4**),  and  at  a  later  a<;e  secluded 
themselves  in  hermit  or  monastic  dwellings.  The 
journey  of  Israel  to  the  Promised  Land  became  the 
framework  of  the  Christian  conception  of  life — a 
pilgrimage  through  a  wilderness.  The  result  of 
this  view  has  been  the  withdrawal  of  much  imagi- 
nation and  energy  from  the  problems  of  the  pre- 
sent world  in  the  name  of  an  expected  heaven — 
whereas  the  real  watching  is  in  right  employment 
here  and  now  (Lk  17="-  -'  19"--').  But  it  would  be 
a  mistake  to  miss  the  great  contribution  made 
by  the  doctrine  of  Christ's  reappearing  to  the 
improvement  of  character  (Lk  12^",  1  Th  5=^). 
When  it  is  understood  in  the  light  of  the  words 
and  example  of  Jesus  Himself  rather  than  of 
Messianic  expectations,  which  again  and  again 
He  disappointed  in  favour  of  spiritual  interests 
(Lk  9"-  '■^  Jn  6"-  "•  ==•  =«•  •"■ «-««,  Ac  l«-»),  its  effect  is 
purifying  and  searching  to  tlie  last  degree,  and 
arms  the  personality  with  the  weapon  of  a  new 
hope  in  the  conflict  with  its  environment  (Ph 
313.  ij)  The  reappearing  of  the  Saviour,  whether 
it  be  when  physical  disabilities  fall  from  us  at 
death,  or  in  some  other  way,  is  essentially  a  final 
judgment  (Mt  7-'"^  IS*"  &-^ ;  cf.  2  Co  5'»)  in 
which  hidden  things  will  be  brought  to  light  (Lk 
8'M22-3,  Mt2535-«). 

Firstly,  it  gives  a  motive  to  purity  of  life  which 
no  other  religion  has  been  able  to  supply  (1  Jn  3', 
2  P  3"""),  and  to  a  consecrated  use  of  every  natural 
faculty  (Ro  12').  The  promise  of  the  resurrection 
rescues  the  body  from  the  contempt  with  which 
philosophers  ■were  inclined  to  regard  it,  for  as  com- 
panion of  the  soul  it  is  both  sacred  and  serviceable 
(1  Co  6'°--°).  It  is  to  be  changed  from  a  bodv  of 
humiliation  to  the  likeness  of  the  body  of  His  glory 
(Ph  3'-'),  and  meantime  its  members  are  to  be  dis- 
ciplined as  instruments  of  righteousness  (Ro  G"), 
every  ability  being  turned  to  good  account  (1  P 
4"'- ",  Col  3'^- "). 

Next,  it  gives  a  deeper  sanction  to  the  social 
relationships  of  life.  "The  spiritual  side  of  mar- 
riage has  been  greatly  developed  by  the  revelation 
of  the  issues  of  life  (Mt  19*-9,  Eph  5'^--^).  The 
relations  of  parent  and  children,  of  master  and 
servant,  were  likewise  dignified  by  being  seen  suh 
specie  mternitatis  (Col  3=""*^  4'),  and  in  the  remem- 
brance that  for  responsibility  we  must  give  account 
(Lk  12^'-^).  It  was  this  truth  which  gave  its  special 
meaning  to  Church  membership,  so  that  the  Chris- 
tian community  was  knit  together  with  bonds 
unknown  in  any  contemporary  clubs  or  guilds  (Mt 
IS'"- 20,  Eph  l"-3  2'»-==,  1  Co  12'=-*').  Though  there 
was  discontent  and  division  in  the  Church,  and 
even  an  occasional  subsidence  to  the  vicious  levels 
of  pagan  society,  the  ideal  could  be  steadily  buUt 
up  again  in  t!ie  sure  hope  of  a  radiant  future, 
when  the  secret  working  of  the  absent  Bridegroom 
in  His  own  should  be  accomplished  (Eph  5'-',  Col 
33. 4_  1  p  J3-5)  jYnd  this  hope  was  a  continual 
summons  to  every  Christian  to  rise  and  be  worthy 
of  his  calling  (Ro  13",  1  Co  3"'-'*  9«). 

Finally,  the  hope  of  a  Divine  reappearing  exer- 
cises its  influence  upon  the  common  toil  and  ap- 
pointed duty  of  every  day.  It  is  as  if  the  owner 
of  an  estate  went  away  entrusting  to  each  man  his 


CHARACTEK 


CffAEACTER  OF  CHRIST 


281 


work,  and  bidding  the  porter  to  watcli  (Mk  13?'). 
It  is  required  tliat  a  steward  be  funnd  faithful 
(1  Co  i'-") ;  and  it  is  well  for  the  C'liristian  if  he 
has  used  to  advantage  the  talents  given  (Mt25"'"-^), 
and  the  opportunities  offered  on  every  hand  for  the 
■wider  human  service  (Mt  25^' ■'°),  for  there  is  an 
appropriate  reward  (1  Co  3'=-").  Lowly  service  is 
the  path  to  ennoblement  and  the  seats  of  influ- 
ence (Mk  10«-«,  Lk  12^2-44). 

The  promise  of  the  Divine  Eeappearing  thus 
supplements,  as  it  were,  the  promise  of  the  Divine 
Indwelling  ;  for  whereas  the  latter  brings  out  the 
need  for  the  Christian's  faith  in  a  power  not  his 
own,  the  former  requires  that  he  he  faithful  with 
the  powers  that  are  his  own.  And  taking  all 
four  aspects  of  the  revelation  of  grace  through 
Jesus  Christ  together,  we  see  that  they  equip  His 
followers  for  that  conflict  with  environment  out 
of  wliich  character  emerges,  by  giving  the  soul  a 
new  worth,  freedom,  power,  and  motive. 

This  revelation  is  above  all  in  the  Cross,  in 
which  Christ  was  most  fully  manifested  (Lk  9=-, 
Jn  10"  12^).  There  we  see  convincingly  the  love 
of  the  Father  (Ro  8^=,  1  Jn  4"),  who  counted  men 
of  such  value  (Mt  18="",  Lk  IS'")  that  He  would  have 
all  to  be  saved  though  at  infinite  cost  (Jn  3"''^). 
There  is  the  place  of  the  breaking  forth  oi  forgive- 
ness (Mt  26'"'),  the  supreme  illustration  of  that 
redeeming  love  by  which  men's  freedom  is  pur- 
chased (1  P  118",  Ro  147-9^  Rev  P-«).  There  the 
life  was  surrendered  to  the  Father  ( Jn  10"-  '*),  to 
be  bestowed  as  an  enabling  power  (Jn  14'^"''',  Ac  4^") 
by  an  indwelling  Spirit  (Jn  1",  Ko  8^'^-),  wherewith 
He  might  bring  many  sons  to  glory  (He  2").  And 
there,  finally,  the  eternal  future  was  clasped  to 
the  tragic  present  (Jn  12"*-^-)  as  the  ever-living 
Son  submitted  to  taste  of  death  (He  2^-  ^*),  that 
neither  earthly  trouble  nor  spiritual  principality 
might  ever  separate  His  people  from  Him  (Ro  8^'""", 
Ph  pi-=3). 

In  another  summary,  it  may  be  said  that  the 
Christian  ethic  revolves  between  two  poles  which 
are  discovered  in  the  light  of  Christ's  teaching, 
the  inwardness  of  religion,  and  its  practical  nature. 
The  first  had  been  neglected  by  the  Jew  and  the 
second  by  the  Greek.  And  one-sidedness  is  still 
only  too  possible,  when,  for  instance,  in  tlie  name 
of  Christianity  the  ascetic  visionary  holds  to  the 
first  alone,  or  the  social  revolutionary  to  the 
second.  But  all  ethical  deductions  can  and  must 
be  rectified  by  reference  to  the  work  and  word  of 
Christ,  who  started  from  inward  character  and 
aimed  at  social  regeneration. 

And  in  a  hnal  analysis  of  what  Christ  has  dis- 
tinctively done  for  character,  it  may  be  said  that 
(a)  He  treated  the  personality  as  a  whole.  All 
ethical  systems  are  based  on  one  or  other  element 
of  our  threefold  nature.  The  pivot  of  the  good  life 
was,  according  to  Socrates,  knowledge  ;  according 
to  Epicurus,  feeling  ;  according  to  Zeno,  the  will. 
Christ  gave  a  due  and  natural  place  to  each  of 
these ;  for  character  with  Him  was  not  a  system, 
as  it  was  with  Greek,  Jew,  or  Roman,  or  as  it  is 
with  Confucian  or  Mohammedan,  but  a  growth 
from  within,  deeper  even  than  our  own  nature, 
rooted  in  the  ever-living  grace  of  God.  [h)  He 
treated  it  as  free.  This  also  is  crucial  to  Christian 
character,  aiid  depends  on  the  truth  that  the  ulti- 
mate fact  of  life  is  not  Fate,  but  a  God  of  grace,  a 
Father.  Jesus  looked  for  repentance  as  the  first 
consequence  of  His  good  tidings  (Mk  1'=).  What- 
ever a  man's  past  had  been,  lie  could  be  released 
and  renewed,  if  out  of  the  darkness  and  bondage 
■  he  put  forth  the  hand  of  faith.  And  so  in  the  last 
resort  life  is  self-determined.  These  two  essential 
truths  for  the  making  of  character,  viz.  the  in- 
tegrity and  the  freedom  of  personality,  have  been 
recognized  and  realized  in  the  light  of  the  four 


great  truths  enumerated  above.  Thus  Christ  has 
enlarged  the  resources  and  opportunity  of  person- 
ality, and  enabled  it  to  be  victorious  over  its 
material  and  moral  environment. 


Harper,  The  Christian    Vi&iv  of  3u7Han 

Life  ;  Church,  Viseipline  of  Christian  Character  ;  Knight,  The 
Christian  Ethic  \  Martengen,  Christian  Ethics ;  Garvie,  The 
Christian  Personality  ;  Kilpatriok,  Christian  Character  and 
Christian  Conduct,  etc.;  Herrmann,  Protestant  Ethics;  Sei- 
ions  by  Butler,  Newman,  Martineau,  Paget,  Maclaren,  Inge, 

tc.  A.  NoKMAN  Rowland. 

CHARACTER  OF  CHRIST.- 

Introduction  :  (ir)  Aim.  (6)  Sources  :  (1)  their  trustworthiness ; 
(2)  their  sufficiency,    (c)  Theological  value  of  a  etudj  of 
the  character  of  Christ. 
i.  Formative  influences— 
1.  Parentage. 

3.  Education. 

4.  The  years  of  silence. 

ii.  Tlie  Vocation  of  Christ,  the  determining  principle  of  His 
character — 

1.  His  Designation  of  His  vocation. 

2.  His  Dedication  to  His  vocation. 

3.  His  Confirmation  in  His  vocation, 
ill.  Characteristics  of  Christ — 

1.  Spiritual-mindedness :  (1)  His  kr 

teaching ;  (3)  effect  of  His  presenct-. 

2.  Love  to  God  :  (1)  obedience,  (2)  trust. 

3.  Love  to  men. 
iv.  Social  relations,  and  virtues  manifested  therein— 


vledgc;   (2)  His 


self -communications  t 
Him. 
3.  Mankind:    (1)   lowliness:    (2)    consideri 
compassion  ;  (4)  forbearance  and  forgivi 
Virtues  of  His  voca 

1.  Faithfulness. 

2.  Courage. 

3.  Patience. 

4.  Calmness. 
B.  Self-sacriflce. 

olute  goodness. 
2.  His  ainlessness :   (1)  testimony  of  those  who  knew 
Him.  ;  (2)  His  own  self-knowledge  and  self-witness. 
Literature. 

Introduction.— {a)  The  aim  of  this  article  is  to 
make  a  purely  ethical  study  of  the  character  of 
Christ.  In  such  a  study  there  must  be  no  dogmatic 
presuppositions  regarding  the  constitution  of  His 
jierson,  whether  favourable  or  hostile  to  the  state- 
ments of  Nicene  orthodoxy.  There  must  be  no 
abstract  separation  of  His  humanity  from  His 
Divinity,  and  no  attempt  to  relegate  certain  acts 
or  pliases  to  one  side  and  others  to  the  other  side. 
We  must  proceed  in  the  case  of  Jesus  Christ  as 
we  do  in  that  of  the  great  men  who  have  forced 
succeeding  ages  to  the  task  of  understanding  them, 
tliough  it  may  well  be  that  in  the  end  we  shall  be 
constrained  to  set  Him,  with  reasoned  conviction, 
in  a  class  apart,  high  above  the  greatest  of  men. 

(6)  The  sources  for  such  a  study  are,  of  course, 
the  four  Gospels.  It  is  obviously  impossible  to 
appeal  to  the  Epistles,  save  for  any  reminiscences 
they  may  contain  of  the  historic  Christ.  Their 
conceptions  of  the  ri.ien  Christ  cannot  come  here 
into  view.  In  thus  restricting  ourselves  to  the 
earthly  life  of  Christ,  we  are  not  excluding  any 
view  which  faith  might  take  of  His  present  exist- 
ence. If  Christ  be  alive  now,  He  must  be  the  same, 
morally,  as  He  was  when  on  earth.  There  is  no 
other  Christ  than  the  Christ  of  the  Gospels. 

As  soon  as  we  turn  to  the  Gospels,  we  are  met 
by  various  critical  problems.  The  solution  of 
these  mnst  be  sought  in  the  various  works  which 
are  devoted  to  their  discussion.  For  the  study  in 
which  we  are  to  be  engaged  two  positions  are 
essential,  which  may  be  stated  here  as  assumptions, 
though  they  are  in  reality  conclusions  of  the  study 
itself.  (1)  The  first  is  the  trustworthiness  of  the 
Gospels  as   portraitures    of    Christ.      Grant    the 


282        CHARACTER  OF  CHRIST 


CHARACTER  OF  CHRIST 


ordinary  critical  results,  that  the  Gospels  were 
written  late  in  the  1st  cent.,  that  contemporary 
ideas  and  experiences  have  influenced  their  authors 
or  editors,  that  in  some  cases  the  Evangelists  have 
misunderstood  or  misreported  their  Master ;  yet 
the  fact  remains,  that  tlie  character  of  Christ,  as 
presented  in  these  documents,  was  not,  and  could 
not  have  been,  an  invention  or  a  fiction,  a  product 
of  progressive  meditation,  or  a  creation  of  enthu- 
siastic feeling.  Do  j  nstice  to  the  portrait  of  Christ, 
let  its  harmony  and  its  uniqueness,  its  profound 
naturalness  and  its  transcendent  loveliness,  make 
their  due  impression,  and  the  conclusion  presses, 
that  the  Christ  of  the  Gospels  is  not  a  construc- 
tion but  a  memory,  an  actual  Figure,  once  beheld 
by  eyes  of  flesh,  and  now  discerned  through  a 
medium  upon  which  contemporary  influences  have 
had  no  distorting  eft'ect,  and  which,  accordingly, 
permits  Him  to  be  known  as  He  was. 

Itimay  be  said  that,  while  these  remarks  are  true 
of  the  Syii.i]itii-  (iuNpi-ls,  they  cannot  fairly  be  ap- 
jilied  to  the  l'.)iiilli  ( lospel.  A  distinction,  how- 
ever, iiui-t  I l.-eiM'd.     The  Synoptic  Gospels  are 

mainly  ctliii-il  in  their  aim  and  method.  Onto- 
logical  and  theological  conclusions  are  certainly 
suggested ;  but  they  are  not  explicitly  stated. 
In  the  Fourth  Gospel  these  results  are  avowed  in 
the  Prologue,  referred  to  again  and  again  in  tlie 
body  of  the  work,  and  summarized  in  the  conclu- 
sion. While  thus  frankly  theological,  however,  it 
presents  its  doctrinal  positions  as  the  result  of  an 
ethical  study,  which  it  also  gives.  With  the  cor- 
rectness of  tliese  doctrinal  inferences  we  are  not 
concerned.  Our  sole  interest  lies  in  the  portrait  of 
Clmst ;  and  with  respect  to  it  two  things  are  cer- 
tain :  it  is  in  complete  harmony  with  th.nt  .sivcn  liy 
the  Synoptists,  it  is  another  jiiituie  nf  {[„■  ■■.nne 
person;  and  it  can  be  regarded,  iis  littli'  :i^  tli:it  of 
the  Synoptists,  as  an  invention  w  liction.  For 
our  present  nurpose,  accordingly,  whieli  is  etliical 
and  not  theological,  we  shall  use  the  materials  pre- 
sented in  the  Fourtli  Gospel,  for  a  study  of  the 
cliaracter  of  Clirist,  with  the  same  freedom  and 
confidence  with  which  we  turn  to  the  Synoptic 
narratives. 

(2)  The  second  assumption  follows  naturally  upon 
the  first,  and  maintains  the  sufficiency  of  the  Gos- 
pels for  knowledge  of  Christ.  It  is  obvious  that 
they  do  not  aim  at  extensive  completeness.  They 
are  not  chronicles  ;  nor  are  they  biographies  in  the 
modern  .sense.  A  shorthand  report  of  the  sayings 
of  Jesus,  a  minute  record  of  His  life,  during  even 
tlie  short  period  covered  by  the  narratives,  would 
have  swelled  their  brief  outlines  to  portentous 
volumes.  It  is  certain  that  they  do  aim  at  inten- 
sive or  central  completeness.  'We  do  not  need  to 
know  everything  about  a  man  in  order  to  know  him. 
For  the  purpose  of  character  study,  much  tliat  is 
interesting,  rli;it  all'pctionate  curiosity  would  like 
to  know,  is  i,<  r.lNs-  .md  irrelevant.  Tlie  materials 
ofoursluil\  iiiu-l  111.  . I  ud  need  only  be,  such  words 
and  derils  ,is  .  \[iii-s  the  whole  man,  and  are  the 
organic  utterance  and  outcome  of  his  very  self. 
Tliis  is  one  aspect  of  the  uniqueness  of  the  Gospels, 
one  element  in  the  proof  that  they  are  memorials, 
not  inventions,  that  the  Christ  they  represent  is 
a  unity.  There  is  not  the  faintest  trace  of  arti- 
ficiality, of  an  ingenious  synthesis  of  heterogeneous 
elements.  No  portrait  painter,  no  artist  in  words, 
ever  invented  a  figure  of  such  perfect  harmony. 
There  are  many  things  about  Christ  whicli  we 
should  like  to  know  ;  but  such  things  have  liecn 
told  as  enable  us  to  know  Christ.  From  the  (ios- 
pels  we  learn  enough  to  know  what  manner  of  man 
He  was.  And  if  He  be  alive  now,  and  able  to 
influence  persons  now  living  on  this  earth,  it  is 
certain  that  His  communications  will  be  simply  tlie 
unfolding  and  the  application  of    the  cliaracter 


which  was  expressed  in  such  words  and  deeds  as 
the  Gospels  record. 

((■)  The  relation  of  a  purely  ethical  study  of  the 
character  of  Christ  to  the  theological  consideration 
of  His  person  is  obvious.  Tlie  one  presents  the 
problem  with  which  the  other  deals.  However 
high  we  may  place  Christ  as  a  moral  teacher,  or 
even  as  the  founder  of  a  religion,  nevertheless,  if 
His  moral  type  remain  the  same  as  that  recog- 
nizable in  other  pure  ami  lofty  souls,  if  His  moral 
achievement  is  generii;dly  tlir  -suin'  as  theirs,  there 
can  be  no  problem  of  IJis  inr-on.  Christology  is 
not  merely  an  iinpo.ssiljility,  il  is  a  huge  irrele- 
vancy. Only  if  a  study  of  the  character  of  Christ 
raise  from  within  the  question  of  His  relation  to 
men  on  the  one  side  and  to  God  on  the  other,  can 
there  be  a  theological  problem  of  the  constitution 
of  His  per.son.  Only  in  that  case  are  the  Christo- 
logieal  elements  in  the  NT  warranted,  and  the  long 
controversiesof  sulisequent  theological  development 
justified.  If  the  Divinity  of  Christ  is  not  to  be  a 
dead  dogma,  soon  to  be  abandoned  by  the  minds 
which  it  perplexes  and  the  religious  instincts  which 
it  depresses ;  if  it  is  to  be  a  living  conviction,  Sus- 
taining faith  and  unifying  thought,  it  must  not  be 
treated  as  though  it  hung,  gaunt  and  naked,  in  a 
metaphysical  vacuum  ;  it  must  be  regarded  and 
expounded  in  its  organic  connexion  with  the  char- 
acter of  which  it  is  the  necessary  presupposition, 
and  from  which  it  derives  its  intellectual  cogency. 
The  only  pathway  to  faith  is  that  trodden  by  the 
first  disciples.  Belief  in  the  Godhead  of  Christ,  if 
it  is  to  be  more  than  a  mere  theologoumenon,  must 
be  rooted  in  acquaintance  with  Him ;  and  tliat 
acquaintance  is  informed  and  enriched,  made  close, 
luminous,  and  full,  through  the  medium  of  the  por- 
traiture in  which  the  character  of  Christ  is  dis- 
closed to  our  reverent  gaze. 

i.  FoEMATiVE  INFLUENCES.— In  the  making  of 
men,  three  factors  are  to  be  distinguished — influ- 
ences operating  from  without,  the  reaction  of 
personality,  and  the  agency  of  the  Divine  Spirit. 
It  would  be  a  mistake,  in  the  case  of  Christ,  to 
concentrate  attention  wholly  upon  the  second  of 
these,  as  though  He  were  a  mere  apparition  in  the 
moral  universe,  standing  in  no  vital  or  intelligible 
relation  to  His  visible  or  invisible  surroundings. 
The  other  factors  are  amply  recognized  in  the 
Gospel  narrative.  The  first  of  them  alone  comes 
into  view  in  our  present  study.  The  operations  of 
the  Spirit  of  God  belong  to  the  theological  inter- 
pretation of  the  character  of  Christ,  and  can  be 
understood  only  from  the  point  of  \iew  of  a  definite 
conception  of  His  person,  to  which  our  present 
eftbrt  is  introductory.  We  approach  our  subject, 
accordingly,  by  briefly  indicating  the  influ-ences 
which  ojierated  on  the  youth  of  Jesus. 

1.  Parentage.—  Pre-natal  influence,  whose  mode 
of  opiralion  is  lii>nL-ath  observation,  is  an  undoubted 
fact.  I'.uc  iilai'i'  allbrds  the  conditions,  physical 
and  psyrii.iioijiiMl.  under  which  that  recapitulation 
of  tliu  ariic~Ual  past,  which  gives  to_  human  char- 
acter its  richest  and  most  interesting  elements, 
takes  place  in  the  individual.  If  we  conclude 
(anticipating  our  judgment)  that  in  Jesus  there  is 
reproduced  and  perfected  the  highest  type  of  OT 
spiritual  life,  the  conditio  xiiic  qui)  )io)iof  this  most 
lovely  pvoilnct  is  to  lie  I'oiini!  in  His  parentage. 
This'tlionnlit  does  not  even  sn'_:gest  a  supernatural 
birth.  Tlie  i|uestion  of  the  Virgin-birth  is  part  of 
the  wider  and  profounder  problem,  which  we  are 
not  now  facing,  whether  His  person  is  to  be  re- 
garded as  an  evolution  from  beneath  or  an  incar- 
n.ition  from  above,  the  entrance  of  God,  at  the 
crisis  of  human  need,  for  the  redemption  and 
jierfecting  of  men.  It  remains  true,  liowever, 
that  whether  we  assume  or  deny  the  Virgin-birth, 
it  is  to  His  mother  we  are  directed  in  our  view  of 


CHARACTER  OF  CHRIST 


CHARACTER  OF  CHRIST        283 


His  parentage.  The  idea  of  her  sinlessness  is 
certainly  not  even  suggested  in  any  record  of  lier 
life ;  it  is  nieri'ly  the  logical  result  of  the  hlunder 
of  making  tlie  sinlessness  of  Jesns  depend  on 
physical  conditions.  Yet  it  is  bi-yund  idl  doulit 
that  she  belonged  to  the  inner  cinlo  (if  thdse  wlui, 
in  Israel,  best  preserved  the  s]iiiitniil  hcritajic  ui 
the  race  ;  and  it  is  beyond  ciivil  that  of  this  deeply 
exercised  generation  of  waiting  smds  she  was  her- 
self a  choice  and  lovely  reiiresentative.  With  a 
litness  which  suggests,  ni  its  tenderly  human  and 
deeply  religious  quality,  a  Divine  selection,  she 
lilled  the  otlice  cif  living  jiersonal  medium,  through 
which  the  stn-.'iiu  of  s|iiiitual  energy,  which  flow.s 
through  the  w  li.'li'  l[i-,l(iiy  iif  Israel,  jioured  in  upon 
her  Son,  to  Avell  up  within  His  soul  in  the  fine.st 
features  and  characteristics  of  the  national  re- 
ligion. In  part,  at  least,  we  understand  Jesus 
through  His  mother.  Most  assuredly.  He  was 
more  than  a  Hebrew  ;  but  He  was  a  Hebrew  born. 
What  He  came  to  be  is  determined,  in  His  case  as 
in  others,  by  the  dark  and  mystic  tabernacle 
wherein  His  physical  frame  was  formed,  by  the 
bosom  whereon  He  lay,  and  the  life-force  whereby 
His  own  Avas  nourished.  Preparation  is  thus  made 
in  birth  for  a  character  which  shall  be  true  to  the 
national  type,  and,  at  the  same  time,  deeply  and 
broadly  human. 

2.  Home. — Of  all  the  characters  who  have  risen 
to  eminence  from  the  lowliest  surroundings,  Jesus 
Christ  is  the  most  remarkable.  What  attracts 
attention  to  His  home,  however,  is  not  the  contrast 
between  His  early  circumstances  and  His  later 
attainments,  but  the  harmony  between  the  setting 
of  His  childliood's  years  and  the  noblest  of  His 
manhood's  virtues  and  achievements.  The  chief 
quality  of  His  home  was  its  pure  humanity.  None 
but  the  simplest  elements  of  human  life  are  here. 
The  home  at  Nazareth  is  as  far  removed  from 
luxury  and  artificiality  on  the  one  hand,  as  it  is 
from  squalor  or  depravity  on  the  other.  The  in- 
M-ard  features  of  the  home  correspond  with  its 
outward  conditions.  The  father  and  mother  belong 
to  what  we  know  as  'the  special  seed  plot  of 
Christianity.'  They  were  'poor  in  spirit';  they 
'waited  for  the  consolation  of  Israel.'  Lofty 
aspirations,  prayers  and  songs  inspired  and  moulded 
by  OT  conceptions  and  forms,  ciMni'is.-itiiin  en- 
riched by  the  ideas  of  the  profoim.lol  I  Imikers  on 
religion  whom  the  world  has  i.-m-i  ku.iwu,  lives 
instinct  with  pure  and  passionate  ile\  otiou  to  God  : 
amid  such  benign  and  holy  influences  the  plastic 
soul  of  Jesus  grew  to  its  maturity.  Such  a  home 
provides  a  perfect  environment  for  One  whose 
jiersonal  secret  is  His  communion  with  God,  whose 
message  is  God's  fellowship  with  men. 

\\'itliout  mere  fancifulness  we  can  conceive  what 
the  childhood  of  Jesus  really  was  —  contented, 
hap])y,  trustful.  Certain  features  of  His  manhood. 
His  freedom  from  extremes  of  feeling.  His  openness 
of  mind.  His  wide  and  deep  charity,  find  the  con- 
ditions of  their  growtli  in  His  childhood's  home, 
with  its  thorough  naturalness  and  its  nearness  to 
central  truth  regarding  God  and  man. 

The  words  which  record  that  '  Jesus  advanced  in 
wisdom  and  stature,  and  in  favour  with  God  and 
men '  (Lk  2^^),  describe  a  jjerfectly  normal  human 
growth,  a  development  without  breach  or  strain  or 
crisis,  conducted  by  the  Spirit  of  God,  toward  the 
realization  of  the  Divine  ideal  of  liumanity.  It 
is  impossible  to  recom-ilc  tlirm  with  an  abstract 
conception  of  His  Gcillirad  ;  iiii|io-.sible  also  to 
reconcile  them  with  an  equally  a,li-,tiact  conception 
of  His  '  mere  humanity '  (w  li'atever  that  may  be). 
But  it  is  certain  they  present  a  unique  fact,  which 
m\ist  have  full  weight  given  to  it  in  any  estimate 
of  the  character  and  the  person  of  Christ.  It 
niiglit  be   suggested,   indeed,    that   the  complete 


rmnlity  nf  His  gr 


„!  ills 


1  mayhnve  bron  iiupcrilled 
ilo  t(i  Him  l.y  His  mother 
I  His  liirtli  111-  the  greatness 
i-duiinuni  rat  ions,  however, 
■Here  ui.t  luailt^  before  His  twelfth  year.  Marj-'s 
wolds  in  the  temple  (Lk  9.^)  make  that  certain. 
I'.Ni'U  on  the  supposition  that  certain  communica- 
tions were  made  at  a  later  date,  they  may  have 
aided  lliiii  in  tin'  discovery  of  His  relation  to  God 
an. I  His  mission  to  men;  but  the  thoughts  they 
iii.-iylunc  ;n\,(ki'iicd  in  His  mind  would  not  then 
act  injuriously  upon  the  growth  of  a  iierfcctly  |iro- 
jiortioncd  human  character.  The  grcatn. v-s  m  hirli 
was  coining  upon  Him  was  leading  Him  maivi  lo 
men,  not  fartlier  away  from  tlLi-m.  W  ,■  must 
always  look  for  what  is  unique  in  (Uiiist  n-il/nii 
and  not  /iri/,m</  His  normal  human  character. 

3.  Education." Hellenic  or  Roman  culture  might 
be  brilliant,  hut  it  was  narrow,  limited  to  the  con- 
ditions of  life  in  a  Greek  city,  or  to  the  u.ses  of  a 
ruling  race.  Its  faults  are  plain  :  intellectual 
pride,  superficial  cleverness,  abundance  of  ideas 
together  with  dearth  of  ideals.  Conceive  now  the 
training  of  a  Hebrew  boy.  Ignorant  of  much  that 
a  Greek  lad  knew,  he  was  thoroughly  instructed 
in  the  books  of  the  OT.  These  constituted  a 
national  literature,  which,  on  any  fair  comparison, 
vastly  excels  the  utmost  that  the  Hellenic  spirit 
could  produce,  in  its  power  to  quicken  and  direct 
the  activities  of  the  soul,  to  deepen  it,  and  to 
enrich  it  with  noblest  conceptions  of  human  life 
and  destiny.  Such  a  literature  is  the  most 
splendid  instrument  of  education  the  world  has 
ever  seen  ;  and  such  was  the  education  even  of  a 
carpenter's  son  in  an  obscure  village.  No  doubt 
even  a  system  so  excellent  might  be  perverted ; 
but  always  in  eilucation  the  result  is  determined 
not  by  the  perfection  of  the  instrument,  but  by 
the  reaction  of  the  pupil.  From  school  Jesus 
might  have  gone  on  to  be  a  Rablii  of  the  common 
dogmatic  and  narrow  type.  If  He  did  not,  if  His 
thought  is  wide.  His  insight  deep.  His  spirit  n.dile 
and  gentle  ;  if  He  moves  on  the  plane  of  the 
greatest  prophets  of  the  OT,  and  sees  beyond  their 
highest  vision  ;  we  must  trace  this  result  to  His 
education,  and  to  the  response  made  to  it  by  His 
quick  and  intelligent  sympathy.  It  is  because  He 
is  moulded  by  the  influences  of  the  OT  that  His 
character  is  at  once  more  spiritual  and  more 
universal  than  it  would  have  been,  had  He  been 
stccpod  to  the  lips  in  Hillenic  culture.  The 
mcisurr  of  Hi  :i(  .|uaiiilaiir.'  with  the  apoealyjitic 
lilrr.sliiiv  uhirli  maiiyoi  II  is  contemporaries  were 
stuilying,  cannot  hci  uralily  lie  determined.  But 
we  sliall  make  a  profouni.1  mistake,  it  we  imagine 
that  we  can  explain  His  teaching  or  understand 
Himself  by  any  such  reference.  We  can  come 
within  sight  of  Him  only  by  retracing  the  steps  of 
His  own  education,  and  approaching  Him  from  the 
point  of  view  of  the  OT.  Tlie  groundwork  of  His 
character  and  the  spring  of  His  thinking  are  to  be 
found  in  the  OT.  \\hat  He  came  to  be  or  to 
reveal,  beyond  that  stage  of  moral  and  religious 
attainment,  stands  in  organic  connexion  witli  it. 
Other  educational  influences  must  be  remembered 
and  their  power  duly  estimated :  the  historic 
scenes  which  were  within  His  view,  with  the 
splendid  and  tragic  memories  they  wen'  litleil  to 
awaken;  the  hiohways  of  the  worM  s  liii>inr-s 
which  were  visible  from  the  hills  behind  which 
Nazareth  lay ;  the  pleasant  country  which  was 
spread  all  around  His  home.  Such  aspects  of  His 
cliaracter  as  His  intense  patriotism.  His  wide 
humanitarian  sympathies,  and  His  feelin"  for 
nature,  liml  theiV  antecedents  in  the  physical  sur- 
roundiu'js  of  1 1  is  early  years. 

At  tills  [mint  we  pause  to  note  an  incident  which 
enables  us,  as  elliciently  as  a  .score  of  haphazard 


284         CHARACTER  OF  CHRIST 


CHARACTER  OF  CHRIST 


reminiscences  vould  have  done,  to  discern  the 
fruition  of  His  life's  preparation,  so  far  as  it  liad 
gone.  Here  it  is  well  to  remind  ourselves  of  the 
reverence  vhich  is  due  to  all  childhood  in  our 
endeavour  to  analyse  its  utterances.  '  How  is  it 
that  ye  sought  me?  Wist  ye  not  that  I  must  he 
ahout  my  Father's  business?'  (Lk  2'"').*  No  plati- 
tudes as  to  moral  paternity,  no  pedantic  references 
to  tlie  Trinity,  help  us  to  understand  this  wonder- 
ing question.  The  words  have  no  doctrinal  mean- 
ing. They  ought  not  to  be  used  as  proof  of  a 
ilogma.  Did  Mary  ask  her  Son  what  He  meant  ? 
n  she  had  asked,  could  He  liave  made  her  under- 
stand ?  The  words,  however,  while  thus  far  re- 
moved from  ontological  problems,  do  reveal  most 
surely  what  manner  of  child  He  must  have  been 
who  uttered  them.  He  must  have  lived  till  that 
hour  in  a  fellowship  with  God  which  had  known 
no  intenuption,  Avhich  had  been  so  deep  and  holy 
and  tender,  that  Mary's  word,  applied  to  an  earthly 
parent,  proNddes  its  secret.  'Thy  father  and  I,' 
said  His  mother;  and  He  replied,  surely  not  in 
any  self-conscious,  didactic  mood,  but  in  glad  and 
confident  adoption  of  lier  word,  'my  Father's 
business.'  It  is  certain  that  one  who  uttered  this 
plirase  out  of  the  fulness  of  a  child's  unrellective 
experience,  had  never  passed  through  the  agonies 
of  a  violated  conscience.  His  exiierience  is  not 
the  abnormal  type  to  be  seen  in  St.  Paul,  Augus- 
tine, Luther,  Bunyan,  but  the  profoundly  normal 
tyi)e  of  the  liuman  relation  to  God,  as  God  designed 
it  to  be.  Operating  -tqmn  Him,  through  parent- 
age and  home  and  education,  ojjerating  ivithin 
Him  in  ways  beneath  consciousness  and  beyond 
observation,  the  Divine  Spirit  had  led  Him  into, 
and  enabled  Him  to  abide  within,  a  continuous, 
loving  fellowship  with  God,  of  which  the  earthly 
relationship  of  father  and  son  is  the  reflexion  and 
the  symbol.  It  is  certain  that  Jesus  never  knew 
any  inward  dislocation  of  spirit,  never  passed 
through  agonies  of  conviction,  or  emerged  into 
the  rapture  of  an  experience  which  overwhelmed 
the  judgment  with  surges  of  emotion.  His  char- 
acter is  not  created  by  the  healing  of  some  deep 
breach  of  soul.  It  bears  none  of  the  marks  of 
manufacture.  It  is  a  steadfast  growth,  the  unin- 
terrupted unfolding  of  the  wealth  of  ethical  mean- 
ing that  lay,  from  the  beginning,  within  His  soul. 
From  the  village  street  He  passes  to  the  temple 
courts,  to  find  Himself  tliere  at  home,  and  to 
occupy  Himself  with  His  F'ather's  concerns.  From 
the  temple  He  returns  to  His  village  home,  without 
surprise  and  without  disappointment,  still  to  be  in 
His  Father's  presence,  and  to  be  about  His  Father's 
business.  '  He  went  down  with  them,  and  came 
to  Nazareth;  and  he  was  subject  unto  them' 
(Lk2='). 

4.  The  years  of  silence. -For  eighteen  years  we 
lose  sight  of  Jesus.  When  they  are  past,  not  His 
physical  frame  only  but  His  moral  stature  also 
has  reached  its  fulness.  The  year.s  themselves, 
apart  from  the  incidents  which  must  liave  filled 
them,  are  the  most  potent  of  the  formative  in- 
fluences which  are  our  guide  to  the  understand- 
ing of  Jesus.  There  are  certain  deeply  marked 
features  of  His  character,  which  are  the  imprint 
upon  Him  of  the  passage  of  these  silent  years. 

(1)  Quietness  and  confidence. — In  His  manhood 
there  is  no  restlessness  as  of  one  who  is  uncertain 
of  his  goal,  none  of  the  strained  eagerness  of  one  who 
is  still  in  pursuit  of  undiscovered  truth.  I'lato's 
image  of  the  aviary  in  no  way  resembles  the  mind 
of  Jesus.  No  distinction  is  to  be  found  in  Him 
between  possessing  and  having.  He  possesses,  or 
rather  is  possessed  by,  fundamental  and  universal 

•  in  rei:  reu  lexTfies  fM)u,  Our  argument  is  not  affected  whether 
we  adopt  the  above  rendering  (AY  and  RVui),  or  that  of  RV, 
*  in  my  Father's  house.' 


principles.  His  life  and  teaching  are  their  ex- 
position and  illustration.  AVe  may  debate  their 
validity,  but  we  cannot  dispute  the  absolute  cer- 
tainty with  which  He  grasped  them.  Eighteen 
years  of  silence  had  breathed  their  restfulness  into 
Him,  and  conferred  on  Him  the  precious  gifts  of 
a  quiet  mind  and  an  assured  heart. 

(2)  Foresight. — Jesus  had  no  magical  acquaint- 
ance with  future  events.  Yet  it  is  most  note- 
worthy that  He  moved  amid  the  circumstances 
of  His  life  with  no  hesitating  step.  It  is  not 
merely  that,  as  a  religious  man.  He  knows  that 
God  has  a  plan  for  Him,  and  will  submit  to  it, 
whatever  it  brings  Him,  however  grievous  or  dis- 
appointing ;  but  also  tliat  He  knew  what  the  plan 
was.  He  was  in  the  secret  of  His  Father.  In  His 
speaking  and  acting  there  is  no  trace  of  hesitation 
or  doubt.  He  never  acts  on  a  mere  balance  of 
judgment,  never  wastes  a  moment  on  conjecture, 
not  one  moment  on  regret.  He  acts  with  instant 
perception  of  what  is  wanted,  and  goes  forward 
with  confident  step  and  calm  foreseeing  eye.  He 
marvels  (twice  it  is  recorded  of  Him,  Mt  8'°,  Mk 
&) ;  but  it  is  the  wonder  which  is  at  once  the 
parent  and  the  child  of  knowledge,  not  the  stupid 
astonishment  of  mere  ignorance.  Events  which 
threatened  destruction  to  Himself  and  His  mission 
were  met  by  Him  with  solemn  recognition  as  the 
issue  of  a  purpose  which  He  served  with  full  in- 
telligence. Such  calm  wisdom,  such  quiet  faith- 
fulness, such  undisturbed  peace,  had  a  history ; 
and  it  lies  in  these  eighteen  years  of  silent  waiting. 

(3)  Serenity  and  self -possession. — He  was  haunted 
by  misconception,  beset  by  malice,  harassed  by 
malignity.  Yet  He  preserved  an  austere  reserve, 
which  permitted  no  rasli  action,  no  unguarded 
speech.  He  met  His  enemies  with  a  silence  which 
«as  no  dumb  resentment,  but  was  on  some  occa- 
sions a  most  moving  appeal,  on  others  a  most  solemn 
judgment.  No  man  can  be  thus  silent  who  is 
driven  ignorantly  toward  an  unknown  destiny. 
The  silence  of  Jesus  is  proof  that  His  life  lay 
within  both  His  jmrview  and  His  command.  Only 
in  solitude  and  obscurity  can  such  qualities  be  de- 
veloped. Eighteen  silent  years  are  not  too  much 
to  make  a  soul  like  that  of  Jesus  Christ,  strong, 
deep,  calm,  and  wise.  Not  dogmatic  prejudice, 
but  respect  for  the  unity  of  Christ's  character,  and 
for  the  self-evidencing  truth  of  the  portrait  pre- 
sented in  the  Gospels,  condemns,  as  an  outrage 
upon  all  psychological  probability,  the  practice  of 
packing  into  the  three  recorded  years  alternations 
of  thought  and  purpose,  and  tracing  supjiosed  dis- 
tinctions between  the  hopes  with  which  He  began 
His  career  and  the  convictions  which  were  forced 
upon  Him  toward  its  close.  Naturalism  of  this 
sort  is  simply  unnatural  and  foolish.  There  is 
nothing  too  great  to  be  the  outcome  of  years  so 
sublimely  silent.  What  He  is  to  be  was  then 
formed  within  His  soul.  What  He  has  to  .say  was 
then  laid  up  for  utterance.  What  He  has  to  do 
and  endure  was  then  foreseen  and  then  accepted. 

ii.  The  Vocation  of  Christ. —The  unity  of 
Christ's  character  stands  out  impressively  in  the 
Gospel  portrait.  The  allowances  we  make,  and 
the  averages  we  strike,  in  estimating  the  conduct 
of  other  men,  are  not  needed  in  His  case.  Woven 
of  the  strands  of  common  life,  it  is  yet '  without 
seam  throughout.'  When  we  seek  to  explain  this 
unity,  it  is  not  enough  to  refer  to  the  will  of  Christ, 
as  though  it  were  a  power  operating  in  an  ethical 
vacuum.  His  is  the  normal  human  will,  which 
realizes  its  freedom  by  identifying  itself  with  some 
all-determining  principle.  When  we  ask,  further, 
what  this  principle  is,  which  thus  determines  His 
will  and  unifies  His  life,  we  shall  be  in  error  if  we 
regard  it  as  an  absolutely  new  idea,  to  be  ascribed 
to  His  inventive  genius.     He  is  not  with  complete 


CHAEACTER  OF  CHRIST 


CHARACTER  OF  CHRIST 


285 


appropriateness  to  be  designated  a  religious  genius. 
He  has  nothing  to  reveal  which  is  new,  if  by  that 
epithet  we  mean  to  indicate  a  conception  which 
lias  no  organic  relations  with  the  past.  Jesus,  as 
believer,  thinker,  preacher,  starts  from  the  OT. 
His  originality  consists  in  perfectly  understanding 
it,  in  carrying  out  into  concrete  reality  its  ruling 
conceptions.  When,  therefore,  we  seek  for  the 
determining  principle  of  the  life  and  character  of 
Christ,  we  must  turn  to  the  OT.  From  childhood 
to  manhood  He  lived  the  life  of  the  ideal  Israel,  in 
communion  with  God  and  consecration  to  His 
service.  What  is  unique  in  Him  is  not  sonic 
idea,  derived  we  know  not  whence,  but  His  actual 
adoption  of  the  purpose  of  God  toward  Israel  as 
the  purpose  of  His  o\vn  life.  When  we  endeavour 
to  enter  sympathetically  into  the  experience  of  the 
Prophetic  authors  of  the  OT,  and  when  we  com- 
pare with  their  writings  the  character  and  career 
of  Jesus,  we  are  led  to  the  conclusion  :  First,  tliat 
the  core  of  the  OT  religion  is  God's  redeeming 
purpose  toward  Israel ;  and,  second,  that  the  voca- 
tion of  Christ,  as  understood  and  accepted  by  Him- 
self, was  to  fulfil  that  purpose.  In  the  nature  of 
the  case  we  cannot  have  from  Jesus  a  narrative 
of  the  e,xperiences  which  culminated  in  this  great 
resolve,  or  an  abstract  statement  of  His  ideas  upon 
the  topic  of  redemption.  Yet,  as  we  follow  the 
occasions  of  His  life,  we  overhear  pregnant  sayings, 
and  we  observe  significant  incidents,  which  cor- 
roborate and  illustrate  the  impression  which  His 
whole  career  makes  upon  us.  These  we  may  thus 
arrange — 

1.  His  Deiignation  of  His  vocation. — When  we 
inquire  how  Jesus  designated  His  life's  aim,  we  are 
met  early  in  the  narrative  with  one  general,  yet 
most  definite  statement.  He  is  addressing  an 
audience  composed  of  His  own  disciples,  together 
with  a  wider  range  of  auditors  for  wliom  also  His 
words  are  meant.  We  have,  indeed,  no  verbatim 
report  of  what  is  usually  callc(l  tlie  Sermon  on  the 
Mount.  Its  theme,  however,  is  unmistakable.  It 
is  the  Kingdom  of  God  as  it  exists  at  the  stage 
which,  in  the  person  of  the  Speaker,  it  has  now 
reached.  Plainly,  the  Kingdom,  as  Jesus  proclaims 
it,  is  a  new  thing.  Its  righteousness  is  new.  Its 
blessings  are  new.  At  once  the  question  arises, 
and  was  thrown  at  the  Preacher  with  bitter  con- 
troversial animus,  How  does  this  new  Kingdom 
stand  related  to  that  which  had  endured  through 
the  centuries  of  Israel's  history,  wliich  was  now 
indeed  obscured  by  political  oppression,  but  which 
was  destined  one  day  to  receive  a  glorious  vindica- 
tion J  How  do  its  new  views  of  God  and  man  and 
duty  compare  with  the  venerable  system  of  law, 
of  which  the  Scribes  and  Pharisees  were  the  ac- 
knowledged defenders  ? 

Then  Jesus  pronounces  words  which  place  Him 
in  the  central  stream  of  tlie  Divine  purpose,  and 
designate  Him  as  its  goal  and  its  complete  realiza- 
tion :  '  I  came  not  to  destroy,  but  to  fulfil '  (Mt  5"). 
It  is  noteworthy  that  to  '  the  Law '  Jesus  adds 
'  the  Prophets,'  thus  emphasizing  that  element  of 
the  OT  religion  wliich  the  legalists  of  His  day 
were  most  apt  to  neglect.  He  grasps  the  OT  as 
a  spiritual  whole,  and  this  totality  of  Divine 
meaning  He  declares  it  to  be  His  vocation  to  fulfil. 
He  has  come  into  the  world  to  carry  forward  all 
that  had  been  signified  by  Law  and  Prophets  to 
an  end  foreseen,  or  at  least  felt,  by  OT  believers, 
but  not  attained  in  their  experience.  In  Him  the 
OT  religion  is  at  once  perfected,  and  accomplished 
as  an  abiding  reality. 

Such  a  consciousness  as  this  may  well  suggest 
thoughts  as  to  the  person  of  Him  who  thus  asserts 
Himself.  What  is  important  for  us  now,  however, 
is  the  fact  that  it  ivas  His  consciousness,  that  the 
vocation  thus  announced  was  the  end  for  which 


Jesus  lived,  and  constituted  the  organizing  principle 
to  which  is  due  the  perfect  unity  of  His  character. 

The  same  impression  of  the  loftiness  and  the 
definiteness  of  His  vocation,  as  Jesus  conceived 
it,  is  deepened  by  a  consiileration  of  other  sayings 
in  whicli  He  condensed  the  purpose  of  His  life. 
While,  of  course,  critical  conclusions  are  manifold, 
it  is  not  reasonably  open  to  doubt  (a)  that  Jesus 
claimed  to  possess  authority  to  forgive  sins,  and 
so  dispense  the  characteristic  blessing  of  the  New- 
Covenant  (Jer  31",  Mt9«) ;  (6)  that  He  claimed  to 
possess  a  knowledge  of  God  wliich,  in  its  immediacy 
and  fulness,  was  generically  distinct  from  that  en- 
joyed by  the  most  advanced  OT  saint,  and  to  be 
empowered  to  reveal  God,  thus  known,  to  men 
(Mt  11-') ;  ((■)  that  He  regarded  His  death  as  laying 
the  basis  of  the  New  Covenant,  and  being,  there- 
fore, the  medium  of  its  blessings  (Mt  26-"  and 
parallels). 

Again,  we  cannot  fail  to  feel,  in  connexion  with 
such  words,  the  drawing  on  of  a  mystery  in  the 
person  of  Him  who  uttered  them.  Turning  aside, 
however,  from  all  such  suggestions,  and  refraining 
from  all  doctrinal  construction,  we  are,  neverthe- 
less, not  merely  permitted,  but  constrained,  to  ob- 
serve that  they  described  the  commission  under 
which  He  acted.  They  disclose  the  root  of  con- 
viction from  wliich  His  character  grew.  Take  this 
away,  and  His  character  falls  to  pieces,  and  be- 
comes no  more  an  ethical  unity,  but  a  congeries 
of  inconsistencies.  The  belief  that  He  was  com- 
missioned of  God  to  execute  the  Divine  purpose 
towards  Israel,  and,  through  Israel,  towards  the 
world,  moved  Him  from  beginning  to  end  of  His 
career,  and  made  Him  the  character  which  He 
was,  which  we  come  to  know  in  the  Gospels,  and 
which  has  put  its  sjiell  upon  all  subsequent  gene- 
rations. 

2.  His  Dedication  to  His  vocation.  — The  de- 
termining purpose  of  His  life  was  not  made  known 
to  Jesus  for  the  first  time  in  the  experiences  of 
His  baptism.  The  consciousness  whicli  He  then 
manifests  had  certainly  a  history.  The  experiences 
through  which  He  then  passed  imply  a  perfectly 
prepared  soul.  In  His  whole  bearing,  from  the 
moment  of  His  approach  to  Jolin,  there  is  not  a 
trace  of  hesitation  or  bewilderment.  A  new  thing, 
no  doubt,  came  to  Him  ;  but  it  did  not  take  Him 
by  surprise  or  usher  Him  into  a  calling  which  Ho 
had  not  foreseen,  or  from  which  He  hail'shrunk. 
By  the  discipline  of  the  silent  years  in  Nazareth, 
by  the  operation  of  the  Divine  S|iirit.  acting  along 
with  all  external  instrumentalities  ami  bciicatli  tlio 
conscious  movements  of  His  own  spirit.  His  mind 
had  been  informed  of  the  task  wliicli  awaiteil  Hiin, 
His  faculties  had  been  exercised  in  the  aiipropria- 
tion  of  so  great  a  destiny.  His  soul  had  been  fed 
at  sources  of  Divine  strength,  and  thus  enabled  to 
accept  in  deep  surrender  the  Divine  appointment. 
His  character,  when  first  we  see  Him  pass  out  of 
obscurity  into  the  light  of  history,  is  not  like  an 
unfinished  building,  with  seaflblding  to  be  cleared 
away,  and  much  still  to  be  done  before  it  be  beauti- 
ful or  habitable.  It  is  like  a  living  organism, 
rooted  in  the  discipline  of  past  years,  perfected 
by  adequate  preparation,  and  now  ready  for  its 
destined  uses  and  its  full  fruition.  His  thirtieth 
year  found  Him  well  aware  of  His  vocation,  and 
waiting  only  for  the  summons  to  take  it  up.  The 
cry  of  the  Baptist  reached  Him  in  Nazareth,  and 
He  knew  that  His  hour  was  come.  '  Then  cometh 
Jesus  from  Galilee  to  the  Jordan,  unto  John,  to  be 
baptized  of  him '  (Mt  3").  His  baptism  is  at  once 
Christ's  dedication  of  Himself  to  His  vocation, 
and  the  first  step  in  its  accomplishment.  His 
experiences  at  such  an  hour  are  too  intimate  and 
profound  to  be  comprehended  even  by  the  most 
reverent  study.     But  their  meaning  must  gather 


286         CHARACTEK  OF  CHRIST 


CHARACTER  OF  CHRIST 


rouiiJ  three  points  — (1)  First,  tlie  Avord  'thus  it 
becometh  us  to  fulfil  all  righteousness'  (v.'*).  In 
this  pregnant  saying  we  are  conveyed  back  to  the 
heart  of  tlie  OT.  God  is  righteous  -nhen  He  fulfils 
the  obli^^aticins  which  He  imposed  on  Himself 
when  He  in>titntiil  His  covenant  with  Israel.  It 
is  still  His  liL'htciMi-iicss  which  moves  Him,  when, 
after  Isnul  lias  sinned  itself  out  of  the  covenant 
relationsliip,  He  promises  a  New  Covenant,  and 
brings  near  a  better  salvation.  This  is  the  right- 
eousness which  Jesus  has  full  in  view  on  the  verge 
of  Baptism.  If  this  righteousness  is  to  be  fulfilled. 
He  who  is  the  executor  of  the  Divine  purpose 
must  not  shrink  from  His  task,  whatever  it  may 
bring  Him,  and  he  who  has  a  lesser  function  in 
the  Kingdom  must  not  withstand  or  hinder  Him 
through  any  mistaken  reverence. 

(2)  Seconcl,  the  symbolic  deed  of  baptism.  Here 
also  the  only  possible  clue  is  to  be  found  in  the  OT. 
There  we  see  the  godly  in  Israel,  themselves  right 
with  God,  bearing  in  their  own  souls  the  load  of 
the  people's  transgressions.  What  is  thus,  through 
successive  generations,  done  and  suffered  by  exer- 
cised believers,  is  assigned  in  Deutero-Isaiah  to  tlie 
Servant  of  the  Lord,  who  is  in  that  writing  tlie 
ideal  Israel  making  atonement  for  the  sins  of 
the  actual  Israel.  In  descending  to  baptism,  Jesus 
is  certainly  not  acknowledging  personal  unworthi- 
ness.  It  is  not  even  enough  to  say  that  He  is  vicari- 
ously confessing  the  sins  of  others.  He  is  definitely 
assuming  tlie  plSee  and  office  of  the  Servant  of 
the  Lord.  Himself  righteous.  He  assumes  in  His 
deepest  soul  the  load  of  human  sin,  and  thus  at 
once  fulfils  the  righteousness  of  God  and  '  makes 
many  righteous.'  The  Baptism  of  Christ,  accord- 
ingly, is  at  once  the  culmination  of  a  life's  experi- 
ences, the  product  of  long  years  of  tliouglit  and 
prayer,  and  the  inauguration  of  a  career  whose 
movement  and  whose  goal  were  already  plainly 
before  His  inward  eye. 

(3)  Third,  the  Divine  response  (v.'^').  A  decision, 
whose  issues  we  cannot  calculate,  was  accompanied 
by  a  pain  Aviiicli  we  cannot  fathom.  The  doctrine 
of  the  two  natures,  even  supposing  it  to  be  proved, 
throws  no  light  on  the  experiences  of  that  hour. 
Jesus  never  found  relief  in  His  Divinity  from  His 
human  suffering.  He  tciok  i.fiiu,>  iu  imiyer  (Lk 
3=').  The  Father  ;uisu,i.,l  «:il,  ;iii  .iidbwment 
ample  enough  even  fm  I  In-  i  :i-K  .  mi  ,i  ui^uice  strong 
enough  to  raise  Him  aliuve  ail  iImimh.  Tlie  terms 
in  which  the  assurance  is  gi\en  form  a  synthesis 
of  tlie  two  great  figures  through  whom  iu  the  OT 
the  consummation  of  the  Kingdom  is  achieved,  the 
Messianic  King  and  the  Servant  of  the  Lord  (Mk 
1"),  and  afford  additional  proof  of  the  conscious- 
ness with  which  Jesus  began  His  ministry.  Wliat 
we  observe  in  lesser  men,  we  see  in  Jesus— a  great 
puijiose  determining  the  life,  creating  the  cluiracter. 
In  JHis  case,  as  in  others,  to  miss  tlie  purjxise  leaves 
the  character  a  hopeless  enigma,  the  life  a  meaning- 
less puzzle. 

3.  His  Confirmation  in  His  vocation. — Tesns 
does  not  sweep  forward  in  emotion:il  iiiihn  la-^m 
from  Baptism  to  the  announcennni  ni  \l\~  ■  Lmns. 
The  tide  of  His  endowment  'drov.'  II nu  iSt. 
Mark's  phrase)  not  to  cities  and  tluunys,  Imi,  into 
desert  solitudes,  there  to  win  tlirough  conflict 
wliat  was  His  by  right.  Jesus  certainly  did  not 
describe  to  His  disciples  in  full  detail  the  strife  by 
which  He  won  His  soul.  Something  He  did  tell, 
and  told  it,  as  alone  it  could  be  told,  in  symbols. 
The  point  at  issue  in  the  conflict  is  the  vocation  to 
which  Jesus  has  just  dedicated  Himself.  That 
\ocation  is  the  synthesis  of  all  the  lines  of  action 
by  which,  in  the  OT,  God's  nurpose  was  being 
gradually  fulfilled  ;  and  specially  the  synthesis  of 
sovereignty  and  service.  The  strain  of  the  Temp- 
tation IS  directed  to  the  rending  asunder  of  these 


two.  The  clibrt  to  which  Jesus  is  summoned  is  to 
hold  them  together  in  indissoluble  connexion,  and 
not,  under  whatever  subtle  seductive  influences, 
to  snatch  at  the  one  and  renounce  the  other.  Any 
breach  between  them  will  mean  the  defeat  of  the 
Divine  righteousness.  Failure  here  will  make 
Jesus  not  the  Servant  of  the  Lord  but  His 
adversary,  servant  of  His  enemy.  The  stages  of 
the  Temptation,  accordingly,  turn  upon  the 
humiliations  which  the  element  of  service  will 
bring  into  His  career,  and  their  supposed  incom- 
patibility with  the  sovereignty,  which  is  His  goal. 
Surely  hunger  and  toil  and  poverty  are  insuper- 
able barriers  in  the  way  of  reaching  that  suprem- 
acy which  Jesus  would  exercise  with  such  be- 
nignant grace  I  The  alternative  lay  clear  before 
Him,  the  pathway  of  supernatural  power,  leading 
away  from  normal  human  experience,  or  the  patli- 
way  of  service  and  suffering,  leading  nearer  and 
nearer  to  the  throbbing  heart  of  humanity.  Jesus 
made  His  choice,  and  in  that  great  decision  gained 
His  vantage  ground.  As  for  Him,  He  would  be 
man,  and  would  stand  so  close  to  men  that  He 
could  assume  their  responsibilities  and  bear  their 
burdens.  Thus  Jesus  won  His  victory,  a  solitary 
man,  in  death  grips  with  evil,  with  no  strength 
save  the  Spirit  of  God,  no  weapon  save  the  AVord 
of  God.  It  was  a  complete  victory.  Within  a 
character,  thus  welded  by  trial,  there  was  no 
room  hereafter  for  breach  with  God  or  with  itself. 
Though  other  assaults  will  be  made,  though  they 
be  made  by  His  dearest  (Jn  2^-  ■"),  His  most  loyal 
(Mt  16----'),  though  in  one  final  onslaught  they 
wring  from  the  Victor  sweat  of  blood,  the  certainty 
of  their  overwhelming  defeat  is  already  guaran- 
teed. In  studying  the  character  of  Christ,  we  are 
led  from  one  surprise  of  loveliness  to  another  ;  but 
we  are  never  in  any  uncertainty  as  to  its  per- 
manence, never  haunted  by  any  dread  of  its 
failure.  From  the  beginning  there  is  the  note  of 
finality  and  absoluteness. 

iii.  Characteristics  OF  Christ.— All  character 
study  is  necessarily  incomplete.  A  character  which 
could  be  exhaustively  analysed  would  not  be  worth 
the  pains  taken  in  making  the  necessary  investiga- 
tions. The  quality  of  mystery  certainly  belongs 
to  tlie  cliaracter  of  Christ  to  a  degree  that  suggests 
a  .source  of  power,  deeper  and  less  restricted  than 
that  which  would  suffice  to  explain  shallower  and 
more  intelligible  personalities.  No  biography  has 
ever  comprehended  Him  ;  the  intent  meditation  of 
nineteen  centuries  has  not  exhausted  His  fulness. 
It  would,  accordingly,  be  both  ])edantic  and  unreal 
to  attempt  a  logical  articulation  of  the  elements  of 
His  character  or  a  classilii  d  lisi  c.t  His  virtues.  It 
seems  best,  therefore,  in  lln^  ar'.irl.-  to  move  fi-um 
the  more  general  to  the  iihir,>  pai  tiiulur,  with<iut 
too  great  rigidity  of  treatment.  We  begin,  then, 
with  those  impressions  of  His  character  \\hich  are 
at  once  the  broadest  and  the  deepest. 


1.  Spiritual-mindedness.— St.  Paul's  great  nhrase 
in  Ro  8^  tpp6rriiji.a  toO  Trveu/taros,  'the  general  bent 
of  thought  and  motive '  (Sanday-Headlam)  directed 


toward  Divine  things,  which  is  applied  even  to  tlie 
best  men  we  know,  with  reserves  ami  limitations, 
exactly     exprosse,     tla-     ]irevaiHnu    divectiMn     of 

Christ^S     life     aial     rl,,i,arl<,.       II,      j„. s     the 

spiritual  mind  ('i  a  'I' ji.'^- "  liali  -taiii|i-,  llim  as 
being  at  once  iiiii.|Uc  anamu  iiirn,  ami  also  true 
and  normal  man,  realizing  the  ideal  and  fullilling 
tlie  duty  of  man  as  such.  He  moves  habitually  in 
the  realm  of  heavenly  realities.  He  does  not  visit 
it  at  intervals.  He  dwells  there,  even  while  He 
walks  (ill  e;nth,  and  is  fuuiid  aiiml  the  throngs  and 
haunt-  Ml  111(11.  lie  ran  11  ■,  V.  nil  llini  the  aroma 
of  it>  li..!n„,,,  aii.l  iieare  aihl  I i|r-,~e,lness.  That 
His  <li.,  iples  Nveie  -wiili  hin.'  (.Mk  3'^)  was  the 
secret  uf  tlieir  jiveparatiou,  the  source  of  any  wis- 


CHARACTER  OF  CHRIST 


CHARACTER  OF  CHRIST        287 


(lorn  they  manifested,  any  success  tliey  achieved. 
The  most  mature  experience  of  the  power  of 
Christ,  and  the  most  lofty  conception  of  His 
person,  lind  their  ultimate  warrant  in  this,  that 
the  unseen  world  becomes  visible  in  His  character. 
Apart  from  this,  they  are  composed  of  things  so 
unreal  as  feelings  anil  opinions.  Illustration  and 
proof  of  the  siiirltual-mindedness  of  Christ  are  too 
abundant  to  be  specihed  in  detail.  The  following 
points  will  suffice  to  indicate  its  equality  and  signi- 
ficance. 

(1)  His  knowledge.— Yi.e  Himself,  on  one  occa- 
sion, distinguished  tlie  objects  of  His  knowledge 
as  heavenly  things  (cTroupdi/io),  and  earthly  things 
(^7r(7eio,  Jn  3'-').  The  former  are  the  mysteries  of 
the  Kingdom,  the  counsels  of  Jehovah,  which  in 
the  OT  He  makes  known  by  the  medium  of  the 
prophets.  The  latter  are  the  facts  of  human 
nature,  as  that  is  essentially  related  to  the  being 
and  character  of  God,  and  is  capable  of  receiving 
and  experiencing  the  powers  and  truths  belonging 
to  the  Kingdom  of  God.  There  is  no  doubt  as  to 
the  kind  of  knowledge  He  evinced,  and  believed 
Himself  to  possess,  regarding  heavenly  things.  He 
is  not  inquiring  like  Socrates,  nor  reasoning  like 
Plato,  nor  connnenting  like  a  scribe.  He  knows 
with  absoluteness  and  fulness  (Mt  11-').  He  be- 
holds with  immediate  direct  vision  (Jn  P*  6^").  He 
reports  what  He  i  sees  and  hears  (Jn  3"  8™  15'=). 
'  He  does  not  in  any  formal  way  teach  the  religion 
which  lives  in  Him.  .  .  .  The  thing  itself  He 
merely  expresses,  nay,  still  more  presupposes  than 
expresses   (Beyschlag). 

Christ's  knowledge  of  earthly  things,  i.e..  His 
insight  into  the  subjective  experiences  of  men  and 
the  moral  condition  of  their  .souls,  has  the  same  note 
of  absoluteness ;  and  His  judgments  upon  them 
and  His  dealings  with  them  have  an  authority 
and  finality  which  would  be  unwarrantable  did 
they  not  rest  on  perfect  discernment  (Mk  10-',  Lk 
7'»,  Jn  1«-  ^  2=-").  Of  this  He  Himself  could  not 
but  be  aware  ;  and,  indeed.  He  expres.sly  made  it 
His  claim  (Jn  13'*).  Peter's  heart-broken  appeal 
( Jn  21")  belongs  to  the  incidents  of  the  Forty  Days, 
and  so  cannot  be  used  directly  as  jnoof ;  but  no 
doubt  it  reflects  the  impression  whicli  the  historic 
Christ  made  upon  those  who  knew  Him,  viz.  that 
He  saw  into  their  inmost  souls  with  a  discernment 
as  intiin.ate  and  deep  as  God's,  which,  like  God's, 
could  neither  be  evaded  nor  hindered. 

Whether  Christ  possessed  supernatural  know- 
ledge of  facts  in  the  order  of  external  nature  has 
been  much  discussed,  but  does  not  now  concern 
us.  We  are  not  oven  concerned  at  present  witli 
any  explanation  of  His  knowledge  of  Divine 
things.  But  we  are  bound  to  note,  and  to  give 
full  weight  to  the  fact,  that  in  the  Gospel  por- 
traiture the  world  of  heavenly  realities,  both  in 
themselves  and  in  their  earthly  manifestations 
and  applications,  is  open  to  Jesus,  that  He  is  in 
complete  spiritual  affinity  with  it,  and  speaks  upon 
all  matters  that  belong  to  it  with  delinite  and 
self-conscious  authority.  Even  if  His  Divinity  be 
denied,  it  must  be  allowed  that  He  is  a  man  jjos- 
sessed  of  undimmed  spiritual  vision. 

(2)  His  teaching. — Jesus  is  not  a  lecturer,  mak- 
ing statements,  however  brilliant  and  luminous, 
of  the  results  of  investigation.  He  is  a  revealer, 
disclosing  in  'the  mother-speech  of  religion'  the 
lieavenly  realities  which  were  open  to  His  inward 
eye.  His  teaching,  therefore,  is  inexhaustible, 
begettin",  in  the  process  of  studying  it,  the  faculty 
of  ethical  insight,  and  continuously  raising,  in  the 
effort  to  practise  it,  the  standard  of  the  mornl 
judgment.  Yet  it  retains  the  quality  of  spiritual 
delight  which  enchained  its  first  listeners.  It  is 
gracious  in  its  unfoldings  of  the  Divine  compas- 
sions; in  its  disclosure  not  merely  of  the  fatherli- 


ness,  but  of  the  fatht 
tions,  pleadings,  proi 
its  astounding  decla: 
blasphemous  :inil  )m 
the  Divint'  lii  n  r m 
less.  It  is  /„..  ,.M 
tional  piety,  >  i,|.,i,i  , 
done,  the  inwitu:  .stitlj 
describing  ll 


typt 


;  in  its  invita- 
ost  of  all,  in 
pride  deemed 

mil  lit  y  iii'vir  questioned,  of 
--,  A'-ry.  .-iihl  free,  and  fear- 
.  ,,  ,/'i.'/,  icjicting  conven- 
,,,ii_.  ;i  ,  ciciilhcOThadnot 
Uj  (jI  ;t  man  .s  heart  Go<lward, 
of  character  requiretl  in  citi- 


of  the  Kingdom  in  terms  of  such  unearthly 
purity  and  loveliness,  as  would  produce  despair 
were  any  other  than  Himself  the  speaker.  It  is 
vnivcrsnl,  perfecting  the  Law  and  the  Prophets,  in 
this  respect  also,  that  it  declared  the  height  of 
spiritual  privilege  to  be  attainable,  not  merely  by 
Israel,  but  by  man  as  such,  irrespective  of  merit  or 
privilege. 

Such  a  voice  had  never  been  heard  in  Israel  ; 
not  Hosea's,  with  its  tears  of  Divine  compassion  ; 
not  Isaiah's,  with  its  royal  amplitude ;  not  his 
who  in  pure  and  lofty  song  heralded  the  return 
from  Babylon ;  not  John's  as  it  rang  out  from 
hill  to  hill  his  summons  to  reiJcntance.  Aston- 
ished by  its  novelty,  wooed  by  its  charm,  bowed 
by  its  authority,  the  multitudes  followed  a  little 
way  as  it  called  them  heavenward ;  and  some 
elect  souls  rested  not  till  they  too  entered  the 
universe  of  truth  whence  Jesus  uttered  His  voice. 
The  greatest  foe  to  faith  is  the  haste  which  seeks 
to  construct  dogmas  about  Christ  before  Clirist  is 
known.  To  some  souls  the  time  for  dogma  comes 
late,  or  not  at  all.  In  any  case,  dogma,  however 
accurate,  must  rest  on  the  trustworthiness  of  Jesus 
in  His  disclosure  of  spiritual  fact. 

(3)  The  effect  of  His  jirescncc.—A  spiritual  mind 
produces  upon  those  who  come  under  its  inlluence 
a  twofold  impression,  tliat  of  remoteness  and  that 
of  nearness  and  sympatliy.  This  is  conspicuously 
the  case  with  Jesus.  We  liave  abundant  evidence 
of  His  having  a  dignity  of  presence,  which  smote 
with  awe  those  who  had  but  occasional  glimpses 
of  Him,  and  filled  at  times  His  most  familiar 
friends  with  fear,  and  also  of  His  being  the 
kindest,  gentlest,  and  most  sympathetic  of  souls. 
It  could  not  be  otherwise.  To  have  discerned  the 
end  which  created  His  career,  to  make  choice  of  it 
.  with  such  full  intelligence  of  all  that  it  involved, 
to  live  for  it  in  such  entire  consistency  with  its 
sco])e  and  requirements,  means  a  moral  grandeur 
unapproaclied  by  sage  or  proplict.  Separated  from 
the  mass  of  men,  remove<l  fnim  Ihiir  ]iiirsiiit.s.  He 
must  have  been.  Yet  the  \cry  mcatnrss  of  His 
vocation,  the  very  depth  of  His  iiisi;;lil  l«ith  into 
the  purpose  of  God  and  the  need  of  man,  produced 
in  liim,  along  with  that  deep  distinctiveness,  the 
kindliest  aiqireciation  of  the  little  things  which 
make  up  the  life  of  man,  the  most  sympathetic 
interest  in  ordinary  human  concerns,  ana  an  en- 
tire approachableness  to  the  humblest  applicant  for 
counsel  or  comfort.  This  combination  of  a  majesty 
which  smites  to  the  ground  the  instruments  of 
prostituted  justice,  with  a  maiuui  si.  (rmler  that 
babes  smile  in  His  arms  aii<I  \\uiii.  n  i.ll  llini  the 
secret  of  their  care,  must  h;nr  ii-  ^nmr,-  deep  in 
the  heavenly  region  which  w.i-  Ills  hnl.itiml  abode. 

2.  Love  to  God.  — The  heavenly  region  which 
Jesus  inhabited  was  not  an  abyss  of  being  where 
the  finite  loses  itself  in  the  absolute.  It  was  a 
realm  of  persons.  Divine  and  human,  who  dwelt 
together  in  intelligent,  spiritual  fellowship.  The 
doctrine  of  'the  One,'  which  is  found  in  every 
climate  and  revives  in  every  century,  is  not  the 
clue  to  Jesus'  thought  of  God.  The  key  to  His  theo- 
logy is  llie  doctrine  of  the  Father;  Ilis  love  to 
tliu  l'"atlicr  is  the  motive  of  His  life.  He  pro- 
claiiiKil  Icivc  to  God,  absorbing  all  energies,  com- 
pn.'huiidiiig  all  activities,  as  the  first,  the  great 
commandment,  of  which  the  second,  love  to  man, 


288         CHARACTEE,  OF  CHRIST 


CHARACTER  OF  CHRIST 


is  the  direct  corollary.  But  when  -ne  compare 
His  own  obedience  to  the  first  commandment  with 
that  of  other  men,  a  very  significant  distinction  is 
to  be  observed.  The  most  devout  souls  in  tlieir 
nearest  approach  to  God  are  conscious  that  their 
love  is  not  perfect.  This  defect  is  due  in  part  to 
sin,  and  the  chastened  soul  rebukes  the  coldness 
of  its  affection  ;  and  in  part  to  tinitude,  and  the 
adoring  soul  continually  aspires  after  higher  at- 
tainments. In  the  case  of  Jesus,  the  note,  either 
of  compunction  or  of  aspiration,  is  never  heard. 
The  explanation  of  this  is  not  that  in  later  recen- 
sions of  the  tradition  such  notes  were  struck  out,  in 
deference  to  a  mistaken  sense  of  reverence,  or  to 
support  a  novel  view  of  His  person  ;  but  that  the 
irapressionof  complete  spiritual  attainment  belongs 
to  the  very  essence  of  the  character  as  set  forth 
in  the  Gospels.  We  may  dispute  whether  such  a 
character  ever  existed;  but  we  cannot  question 
the  fact  that  such  a  character  has  been  poi-tnii/cd, 
with  a  verisimilitude  which  makes  the  jiortraiture 
a  greater  miracle  than  the  actual  reality  of  the 
character  depicted  would  have  been.  Jesus  loved 
God  perfectly  :  this  is  the  only  fair  interpretation 
of  the  record.  There  is  no  trace  of  moral  disparity, 
no  failure  of  mutual  understanding,  no  sign  of 
effort  on  the  part  of  Jesus  to  cross  a  chasm,  how- 
ever inconsiderable,  between  Himself  and  God. 
He  receives  the  communications  of  the  Father's 
love  without  perturbation  or  amazement,  as  of 
one  overwhelmed  by  the  Divine  condescension ; 
and  He  responds  witliout  extravagance  of  emotion, 
in  words  which  do  not  labour  with  overweight  of 
meaning,  but  are  easy,  natural,  simple,  and  glad, 
the  very  language  of  One  who  is  the  Son  of  such 
a  Father.  He  and  the  Father  are  one.  Tlie 
Synoptic  pictiu'e,  as  well  as  that  of  the  Fourth 
Gospel,  makes  this  feature  plain.  There  can  be 
no  doubt  that  this  fact  raises  the  Christological 
problem  in  its  profoundest  fonn.  What  man  is 
He  who  thus  receives  and  returns  the  love  of  God  ? 
Two  of  love's  characteristic  manifestations, 
moreover,  are  found  in  Christ  in  perfect  exercise. 

(1)  Obedience.  We  have  seen  that  the  character  of 
Christ  is  created  by  the  vocation  to  which  He  dedi- 
cated Himself.  We  now  observe  that  this  vocation 
is,  in  the  view  of  Jesus,  nothing  impersonal,  but 
is  the  personal  will  of  the  Father.  This  is  the 
Father's  '  business,'  and  to  it  He,  as  the  Son,  is 
entirely  devoted.  The  \vill  of  the  Father  does  not 
mean  for  Jesus  a  series  of  commands.  It  is  rather 
to  His  deep  conviction  a  purpose,  moving  through- 
out His  whole  life,  and  comprehending  every  detail 
of  His  activity.  The  obedience  of  the  Son,  accord- 
ingly, is  not  a  series  of  events."  Jt  is  the  identifi- 
cation of  His  will  with  the  will  of  the  Father,  and 
a  complete  reproduction  of  that  will  in  the  whole 
conduct  of  His  life.  Sayings  in  the  Fourth  Gospel, 
such  as  4**  6^  S"^,  bring  into  clear  utterance  the 
impression  conveyed  by  the  whole  career  of  Jesus, 
and  express  an  obedience  which  has  lost  the  last 
tiace  of  distance  between  the  will  of  the  Son  and 
the  will  of  the  Father.  Again,  we  must  postpone 
all  discussion  of  the  possibility  of  such  obedience, 
and  must  emphasize  the  actuality  of  the  repre- 
sentation. Two  things  are  plain  :  first,  Jesus  was 
conscious  of  l^i-iiig  in  cni]i|ilete  and  constant  har- 
mony with  (lull,  ail. I  [iiutoundly  unconscious  of 
even  the  slightest  failure  to  fulfil  the  whole  will 
of  God ;  and,  .second,  those  who  knew  Him  best 
believed  that  in  Him  they  had  witnessed  a  uiiicinc 
moral  achievement,  viz.,  an  obedience  absolutely 
perfect,  both  in  its  extent  and  in  its  inward  quality. 

(2)  Trust.  '  Perfect  love  casteth  out  fear '  ( I  Jn 
4").  Jesus'  trust  in  God  was,  like  His  obedience, 
complete.  It  amounted  to  an  entire  and  unfailing 
dependence  upon  God,  .so  that  Avhatever  He  did, 
God  wrought  in  Him.     In  other  servants  of  God 


we  observe,  even  in  their  deepest  experiences,  a 
certain  dualism  of  self  and  God,  a  self  assisted  to  a 
greater  or  less  degree  by  God.  This  account  would 
not  be  adequate  to  the  experiences  observable  in 
the  record  regarding  Christ.  He  is,  without  doubt, 
a  person,  not  will-less,  but  acting  in  complete  self- 
determination,  and  yet  His  deeds  are  the  Father's. 
No  process  of  analysis  can  distinguish  in  any  word 
or  deed  of  His  an  element  w'liich  comes  from 
Himself  and  another  which  comes  from  God.  In 
Christ  we  find  a  perfect  spiritual  organism— a  man 
so  completely  inhabited  by  God  that  Hia  words 
.and  deeds  are  the  words  and  deeds  of  God.  Follow 
Him  in  His  career,  as  it  passes  with  unbroken 
steadfastness  from  stage  to  stage  of  an  unfoldin" 
jiurpose,  study  Him  in  His  dealing  with  men,  and 
note  the  sureness  of  His  touch,  penetrate  the  secret 
of  His  consciousness  as  He  from  time  to  time  lifts 
the  veil(Jn  5-=»- ^  7'«  12-'9  W-"")  ;  and  the  result 
to  which  we  are  forced  is,  that  here  is  a  human  life 
rooted  in  the  Divine,  filled  and  environed  by  it. 
This  is,  of  course,  no  ontological  explanation  ;  but 
it  states  the  ethical  and  spiritual  phenomenon 
which  demands  an  explanation ;  and  this  ex- 
planation must  reach  to  the  sphere  of  personal 
being. 

Precisely  at  this  point,  however,  when  the  facts 
we  are  describing  seem  to  pass  beyond  the  limits 
of  normal  human  experience,  we  are  summoned  to 
observe  that  the  trust  and  obedience  of  Jesus  were 
not  maintained  without  strenuous  solicitude,  or 
the  use  of  those  means  which  aid  the  human  spirit 
in  its  adherence  to  God.  His  obedience  was  not 
easy.  His  will,  in  its  ceaseless  surrender,  was 
subjected  to  increasing  strain.  He  learned  obedi- 
ence by  the  things  which  He  suflered (He  5').  The 
'disposition  of  obedience'  was  always  present. 
'  But  the  disposition  had  to  maintain  itself  in  the 
face  of  greater  and  {jreater  demands  upon  it.  And 
as  He  had  to  meet  tliese  demands,  rising  with  the 
rising  tide  of  the  things  which  He  suffered,  He 
entered  ever  more  deeply  into  the  experience  of  what 
obedience  was'  (A.  B.  Davidson  on  He  5'""*).  His 
ability  to  bear  the  strain  to  which  He  was  thus 
subjected  is  ilue  to  a  trust  in  God  which  was  con- 
tinually revived  by  His  habit  of  prayer,  to  which 
there  is  such  frequent  and  significant  reference  in 
the  narrative  (Lk  3='-^  Mk  1»,  Lk  5"  G''-'\  Mt 
14-3,  Lk  9i8.2e,  Mt  26^'=-^',  Lk  23«).  An  increasing 
revelation  of  the  Divine  will,  an  unceasing  advance 
in  obedience,  a  continuous  exercise  of  trust,  are 
the  strands  woven  together  in  the  character  of 
Christ.  The  product  is  that  perfect  thing,  a  life 
which  is  His  own,  and  is  entirely  human,  which  is 
also,  at  the  same  time,  the  coming  of  God  to  man. 

3.  Love  to  men.— The  source  of  this  character- 
istic, which  shines  resplendent  from  every  page  of 
the  narrative,  is  to  be  found  in  that  which  we  nave 
just  been  considering,  Christ's  love  to  God.  Here 
we  must  do  justice  to  the  facts  brought  before  us 
in  the  portrait.  The  noblest  servants  of  God  in 
the  field  of  humanity  have  done  their  work  out  of 
a  sense  of  obligation.  They  have  received  so  much 
from  God,  that  they  have  felt  themselves  bound,  by 
constraint  of  the  love  of  which  they  are  recipients, 
to  serve  their  fellow-men ;  and  in  this  service 
their  love  for  men  has  grown,  till  it  has  become  no 
unworthy  reflexion  of  the  love  of  God.  It  would 
be,  however,  a  miserably  inadequate  account  of 
the  facts  of  Christ's  ministry  among  men  to  say 
that  Ho  loved  them  out  of  a  sense  of  duty,  and 
served  them  in  discharge  of  a  debt  which  He  owed 
to  (iod.  The  vocation  which  formed  His  character 
was  not  bare  will.  It  was  love,  seeking  the  re- 
demption of  men.  Jesus'  acceptance  of  tliis  voca- 
tion meant  that  His  love  to  God  entered  into,  anil 
blended  with,  the  love  of  God  to  men.  He  loved 
God,  and  the  lu\  e  of  God  to  Him  became  in  Him 


CHARACTER  OF  CHRIST 


CHARACTER  OF  CHRIST 


the  motive-power  of  His  love  to  men.  His  love  to 
God  and  His  love  to  men  constitute  one  energy  of 
His  soul.  He  turns  toward  the  Father  with  the 
deep  intelligence  and  the  full  sympathy  of  the 
Son  ;  and  straightway  He  turns  toward  the  world 
with  the  widest  and  tenderest  charity  (Mt  11='- '^j 
of.  Jn  10'^).  Those,  accordinr;ly,  upon  whom  Jesus 
poured  His  love,  never  sougTit  to  distinguish  be- 
tween it  and  the  love  of  God.  Enfolded  by  the 
love  of  Christ,  they  knew  themselves  to  be  received 
into  the  redeeming  love  of  God  ;  and  their  grateful 
love  to  Jesus  was  the  proof  and  seal  of  the  Divine 
forgiveness.  '  Her  sins,  which  are  many,  are  for- 
given :  for  she  loved  much'  (Lk  7'").  Long  before 
tlie  doctrine  of  His  Divinity  was  framed,  the  love 
of  Christ  was  regarded  by  its  recipients  as  the 
spiritual  medium  in  whicli  the  Divine  compassion 
reached  them.  Hebrew  thought  did  not  work  with 
categories  of  being  and  substance.  The  human 
heart  never  works  with  categories  at  all.  But  it 
can  identify  love  when  it  receives  it ;  and  there- 
fore it  makes  an  experimental  synthesis  of  the 
love  of  Christ  and  the  love  of  God,  and  sets  Christ 
in  a  relation  toward  God  occupied  by  no  other 
man. 

The  love  of  God  to  man  being  such  as  He  extends 
to  no  lesser  creature,  implies  that  man  has  a  value 
for  God  which  no  other  creature  possesses  ;  and  to 
Jesus  man  has  the  same  supreme  value.  Of  this 
value  there  are  no  earthly  measurements,  not  any 
created  thing  (Mt  W  12'-),  not  any  institution, 
however  sacred  (Mk  2-'),  not  even  the  whole  world 
(Mk  8^^).  Even  tlie  moral  ruin,  in  which  sin  has 
involved  human  nature,  does  not  diminish  its  value, 
but  rather  accentuates  its  preoiovisness,  and  adds 
to  the  love  of  God,  and  tlicrpforc  also  of  Jesus, 
a  note  of  inexhaustililo  |.:i^-i.iii  (\lt  IS'"-''^""). 
Christ's  doctrine  of  man  ((■"•-:  noi  luc:!!  he  thesinrit 
of  18th  cent,  individualism.  .N(.|.  im-  man  as  a 
spiritual  atom,  self-coutaiiifd  and  all-exclusive, 
does  Jesus  have  respect.  J5ut  for  man  akin  to 
God,  capable  of  Divine  sonship,  He  has  deep  and 
loving  admiration.  Not  for  7nan,  harassed  with 
passions  for  whose  might  he  is  not  responsible, 
guilty  of  acts  which  to  comprehend  is  to  pardon, 
does  Jesus  have  regard.  But  for  man,  meant  for 
so  much  and  missing  so  much,  framed  for  per- 
fection, destroyed  by  his  own  deed,  He  has  love 
and  pity,  throbbing  in  every  word,  passing  through 
action  and  through  suffering  to  the  ultimate  agony, 
the  final  victory  of  the  Cross. 

iv.  Social  delations.— We  have  now  to  follow 
the  character  of  Christ,  which  we  have  been  study- 
ing in  its  origin,  its  development,  and  its  leatling 
features,  as  it  manifests  itself  in  the  relations  in 
which  He  stood  to  His  fellow-men.  The  narratives 
attempt  no  enumeration  of  incidents.  They  pre- 
sent us  with  typical  instances,  in  which  the  true 
self  of  Jesus  is  disclosed.  From  these  we  are  able 
to  conceive  the  figure  of  Christ  as  He  moved  amid 
the  circles  where  human  life  is  ordinarily  spent. 

1.  Family.— It  is  difiicult,  from  the  very  scanty 
materials  before  us,  to  trace  the  relations  of  Jesus 
towards  the  members  of  His  family  circle,  and  to 
distinguish  clearly  their  attitude  towards  Him. 
Yet  the  following  points  may  be  regarded  as  cer- 
tain:  (1)  The  life  of  Jesus,  prior  to  His  baptism, 
was  spent  within  the  family  circle,  and  was  char- 
acterized by  two  features.  First,  a  loyal  and 
affectionate  discharge  of  the  duties  of  a  son,  pre- 
sumably as  breadwinner  for  His  iii.illii  r.  Thi'  very 
astonishment  of  His  fellow-villa.^'i --  .it  His  sub- 
sequent career  is  sufficient  eviilm..-  ili.n  .lining 
the  period  prior  to  His  public  iiiiiM-i  ly  Hi'  liillillcd 
the  ordinary  obligations  of  l,niiil\  iii.'.  >ir,.nil, 
a  deepening  sense  of  His  \...  ,ii  mii,  wliirh,  while 
it  did  not  render  Him  liss  duliliil  .i,  :i  s.jii  .-iikI 
brother,  could  not  fail  to  give  lliiu  adistiuttiv  uncss 
VOL.  I. — 19 


which  would  inevitably  excite  adverse  criticism  on 
the  part  of  His  kindred,  should  they  prove  unsym- 
pathetic or  unintelligent. 

(2)  The  attitude  of  His  mother  towards  Him, 
both  before  and  after  His  baptism,  was  twofold, 
(a)  Belief  in  His  unique  mission  and  extraordinary 
powers.  Her  words  to  Him  in  Cana  of  Galilee 
(Jn  2^)  are  pointless,  unless  they  express  a  per- 
suasion, born  of  long  pondering,  and  revived  by  the 
recent  events  connected  with  His  baptism,  that  He 
has  a  mission  which  could  be  nothing  less  than 
Messianic,  and  that  the  time  has  come  for  the  dis- 
play of  powers  with  which  necessarily  He  must  be 
endowed  for  the  fulfilment  of  His  task,  (b)  A 
profound  misconception  of  the  nature  of  His 
mission,  and  of  the  means  by  which  it  should  be 
inaugurated  and  carried  on,  together  with  a  critical 
attitude  towards  Him,  in  regard  to  what  she 
evidently  considered  an  inexplicable,  and  even 
blameworthy,  negligence  on  His  part  to  seize  the 
opportunity  presented  in  the  circumstances  of  the 
feast.  For  this  misunderstanding  we  need  not 
greatly  blame  her,  for  it  was  shared  by  His  dis- 
ciples even  after  the  Resurrection  ;  unless,  indeed, 
we  conceive,  what  is  most  probable,  conmiunings 
between  mother  and  son  during  those  long  silent 
years,  which  might  lead  us  to  marvel  that  she, 
who  .surely  might  have  understood,  failed  as  com- 
pletely as  others  to  discern  His  purpose. 

(3)  The  attitude  of  His  'brethren'  is  still  less 
intelligent.  There  is  no  suggestion  in  the  narra- 
tive of  any  sympathy  with  Him  whatsoever. 
After  thirty  years  together,  they  could  find  no 
other  explanation  for  His  behaviour  than  tempor- 
ary insanity,  and  could  conceive  no  other  plan 
than  to  put  Him  under  temporary  restraint.  If 
His  mother  joined  in  this  estimate  and  this  pro- 
posal (Mk  3-'),  it  must  have  been  with  the  con- 
viction that  she  had  the  right  and  duty  of  inter- 
vening to  save  Him  from  Himself,  and  rescuing  Him 
from  a  course  which  would  prove  fatal  to  His 
mission  as  she  conceived  it.  It  is  certain  that  she 
joined  His  '  brethren '  in  making  an  approach  to 
Him,  with  the  obvious  intention  of  inducing  Him 
to  change  His  plan  of  action  (Mk  3^').  At  a  later 
stage  His  brethren  offered  Him  a  final  challenge 
(JnT^''').  They  did  not  believe  in  Him  (v.^),  and 
therefore  their  suggestion  to  Him  has  not  quite  the 
sense  of  Mary's  at  Cana  of  (;:i 111.  I'.  Il  .  \|iresses 
their  demand  to  have  this  ni.ill.i  ..i  Ilis  M.ssiah- 
ship  (about  which  they  had  no  il.iubts)  settled  once 
for  all  by  open  demonstration  :  '  Jlanifest  thyself 
to  the  world.' 

Here,  then,  is  the  situation  of  Jesus  with  respect 
to  His  family.  He  loves  His  kindred  as  son  and 
brother  ;  but  He  knows  that  His  vocation  demands 
the  sacrifice  of  family  life,  and  this  sacrifice,  with 
its  deep  pain.  He  is  prepared  to  make.  He  is 
called  upon,  however,  to  endure  a  yet  deeper  pain. 
Not  only  has  He  to  leave  the  dear  fellowship  of 
the  home,  and  face  a  world  which  will  prove  in 
the  end  bitterly  hostile,  but  among  the  members 
of  the  home  He  can  find  no  understanding  hearts 
to  cheer  Him  and  comfort  Him  on  His  lonely  wav. 
Worse  still,  when  His  nearest  and  dearest  with- 
stand Him,  or  seek  to  divert  Him  from  His 
appointed  path.  He  has  to  repel  them  in  words 
which  He  knows  must  keenly  wound  them.  To 
be  tempted  by  His  very  love  for  His  mother  and 
His  brethren  to  deviate  from  the  line  of  obedience 
to  His  mission,  must  have  put  a  peculiar  strain 
upon  His  spirit,  and  broujlii  llim  most  exquisite 
pain.  In  each  of  the  in.  i.I.mi-  alluded  to  above 
we  feel  this  note  of  pain  :  \sli.-n  He  declmes  the 
intervention  of  His  mother  (.In  2') ;  when  He 
turns  from  His  mother  and  His  brethren  to  His 
disciples  (Mk  3-"-^°) ;  and  when  He  has,  in  plain 
words,  to  state  to  His  brethren  that  they  and  He 


CHAEACTER  OF  CHRIST 


CHARACTER  OF  CHRIST 


belong  to  two  difierent  worlds  of  thought  and 
action  (Jn  1"-^,  cf.  15>»).  That  between  Him  and 
His  mother  there  was  a  bond  of  love  deeper  than 
•ill  misunderstanding,  gains  pathetic  proof  when 
from  the  cross  He  commends  her  to  His  beloved 
disciple:  'Woman  (the  very  word,  yivai,  He  had 
iised  in  Cana  of  Galilee,  courteous  and  affectionate, 
and  yet  suggestive  of  a  cessation  of  the  old  relation- 
ship of  mother  and  child),  behold  thy  son.'  'Be- 
hold thy  mother'  (Jn  19-"- )- 

2.  Friends.  —  The  vocation  of  Christ  was  one 
which  could  be  executed  by  Himself  alone.  Neces- 
sarily He  lived  in  a  deep  spiritual  solitude,  to 
which  no  Imman  being  could  have  access.  Yet  no 
sooner  did  He  take  up  the  burden  of  His  mission 
than  He  proceeded  to  surround  Himself  with  com- 
panions, and  to  cultivate  human  friendships.  In 
the  relations  of  Jesus  to  His  friends  three  points 
are  to  be  noted. 

(1)  His  dependence  upon  them. — It  will  be  a  pro- 
found mistake  if  we  conceive  the  end  for  which 
Jesus  lived  in  any  barely  historical  or  formal 
manner.  The  end  was  the  Kingdom  of  God,  or 
the  New  Covenant ;  but  these  titles  do  not,  in  the 
mind  or  language  of  Christ,  stand  for  a  political 
or  ecclesiastical  institution.  They  mean,  funda- 
mentally, an  experience  of  God  generically  identi- 
cal with  that  enjoyed  in  Israel,  but  perfected,  and 
therefore  also  universalized.  This  experience  is 
destined,  in  the  counsels  of  God,  for  humanity. 
To  secure  it  for  mankind,  so  that  under  tit 
spiritual  conditions  all  men  may  enter  into  it, 
is  the  task  which  Jesus  in  clear  consciousness 
definitely  assumed.  Suppose  Him,  however,  to 
have  fulfilled  His  task  as  the  Servant  of  the  Lord, 
He  will  lose  His  labour,  unless  He  secure  repre- 
sentatives and  \vitnesses,  who  shall  declare  to  all 
whom  it  concerns  the  accomplishment  of  God's 
gracious  purpose.  This  testimony,  moreover,  can- 
not be  borne  by  mere  officials.  Suppose,  for  in- 
stance, that  the  Resurrection  was  a  fact.  Suppose, 
further,  that  it  had  been  verified  by  the  investi- 
gations of  experts  drawn  from  the  chief  seats  of 
learning  of  the  ancient  world.  Nothing  is  more 
certain  than  that  this  testimony,  taken  alone, 
would  not  have  advanced  by  a  hairbreadth  the 
purpose  to  which  Jesus  devoted  Himself.  Testi- 
mony to  certain  facts,  there  is  no  doubt  He  re- 
quired ;  but  this  testimony  would  be  valueless,  did 
it  not  presuppose,  and  rest  on,  personal  acquaint- 
ance with  Himself,  and  participation  in  Hii 


1  participation  in  His  own 

His  rei)resentatives  must 

be  His  friends,  bound  to  Him  by  personal  ties  of 


fellowship  with  God. 


intelligent  sympathy  ;  capable  of  bear 
ing  witness,  not  merely  to  a  series  of  His  acts,  but 
to  His  character  and  to  His  influence  ;  having  an 
understanding  not  merely  of  His  doctrine,  but 
of  Himself.  It  was  essential,  therefore,  that  from 
the  outset  He  should  have  friends  about  Him,  to 
whom  He  should  fulfil  all  the  sacred  obligations  of 
a  friend.  When,  accordingly.  He  comes  to  give 
them  their  commission.  He  makes  it  plain  to  them 
that  His  vocation  is  their  vocation,  having  the 
same  Divine  origin,  and  carrying  with  it  His  own 
spiritual  presence  (Lk  i^»-  ^i- «  Mt  15=«  I0"-«2,  Jn 
20^1,  Mt  SS'"- "")-.. 

How  much  the  friendship  of  His  disciples  was  to 
Jesus,  the  whole  narrative  bears  witness.  "Their 
faith  in  Him  was  the  greatest  encouragement, 
apart  from  immediate  Divine  assurances,  that 
He  could  receive  as  He  faced  the  appalling  diHi- 
culties  of  His  task.  There  is  an  unmistakable 
note  of  pathos  in  His  clinging  to  His  disciples, 
when  the  natural  support  of  family  loyalty  is 
denied  Him.  They  were  to  Him  brother,  sister, 
mother.  There  can  be  no  doubt  that,  had  His 
three  most  intimate  friends  watched  unto  prayer, 
His  last  agony  would  have  been  alleviated.     It  is 


the  pathos  of  His  position  that  His  friends  never 
knew  how  much  He  depended  on  them.  To  them 
He  was  the  Strong  One  upon  whom  they  leaned, 
from  whom  they  took  everything,  to  whom,  in  un- 
conscious selfishness,  they  gave  but  little.  Love 
must  have  been  to  Jesus  a  constant  hunger. 
Never  in  all  His  life  did  He  get  it  satisfied  ;  and 
yet  it  never  failed,  but  remained  the  master  pas- 
sion of  His  soul.  '  Having  loved  his  own  which 
were  in  the  world,  he  loved  them  unto  the  end.' 

(2)  His  self-communications  to  them.—1\\e  chief 
thing  a  friend  can  give  to  a  friend  is  himself ;  and 
Jesus  poured  out  on  His  friends  the  wealth  of  His 
personality :  His  love  (Jn  13**),  His  knowledge 
(15"),  His  example  (13'^);  so  that,  when  He  re- 
views His  life.  He  can  plead  with  His  Father  His 
own  jjerfect  fulfilment  of  love's  obligations  (17*' 
*•  '=).  The  riches  of  Christ,  thus  bestowed  upon 
them,  vivified  their  imagination,  quickened  their 
emotion,  enlightened  their  understanding,  subdued 
and  renewed  their  wills,  till  they  came  to  be  not 
wholly  unfit  representatives  of  Him  on  whose 
errand  they  went.  This  influence,  which  Jesus 
exerted,  had  none  of  the  aspect  of  an  impersonal 
force.  It  consisted  in  the  touch  of  spirit  upon 
spirit  in  the  mystic  depths  of  fellowship  ;  and  this 
touch  is  not  to  be  conceived  as  having  the  equal 
pressure  of  the  atmosphere.  Under  certain  con- 
ditions, which  are  necessarily  too  deep  and  deli- 
cate for  analysis,  the  love  of  Christ  gathered  an 
intensity  which  made  His  friendship  in  these  in- 
stances special  and  emphatic  (Jn  lP-°  13-').  Yet 
so  exquisite  was  His  tact,  so  evident  His  goodwill, 
that  those  about  Him,  though  they  might  quarrel 
among  themselves  for  pre-eminence,  never  brought 
against  Him  the  charge  of  favouritism.  They 
knew  He  loved  them  according  to  the  measure  of 
their  receptivity,  and  w  ith  a  reserve  of  tenderness 
and  power  for  ever  at  their  disposal.  They  assented 
as  in  a  dream  to  His  own  word,  '  Greater  love  hath 
no  man  than  this,  that  a  man  lay  down  his  life  for 
his  friends '  (Jn  15").  Afterwards  they  awoke, 
and  remembered,  and  understood. 

(3)  Their  response  to  Him.— It  is  impossible  to 
miss  the  brighter  aspect  of  their  attitude  towards 
Him.  They  were,  glad  in  His  company,  happier 
than  the  disciples  of  the  Pharisees  or  of  John, 
happy  as  sons  of  the  bride-chamber  (Mk  2'"). 
This  joy  of  theirs  in  His  presence  throws  a  vei-y 
lovely  light  upon  His  character.  He  knew  the 
goal  toward  which  His  steps  were  taking  Him, 
and  was  standing  within  sight  of  the  cross.  Yet 
no  shadow  from  His  spirit  clouded  theirs.  They 
rejoiced  in  Him,  and  in  the  new  world  of  religious 
experience  to  which  He  introduced  them.  They 
knew  themselves  to  be  possessed  of  privileges, 
which  from  the  point  of  view  of  the  OT  had  been 
no  more  than  an  aspiration.  In  the  fellowship  of 
their  Master  and  Friend  they  stood  nearer  to  God 
than  the  ripest  saint  of  the  OT,  immeasurably 
nearer  than  any  legalist  of  their  own  day.  This 
joy  of  theirs  in  Him  is,  besides,  reflection  and 
proof  of  His  joy  in  them.  It  is  strange,  when  we 
consider  the  spiritual  elevation  at  which  He  lived, 
but  it  is  certain,  that  He  had  a  very  real  joy  in 
their  presence.  He  delighted  to  stimulate  their 
minds  by  questioning,  to  enrich  their  conceptions 
by  definite  teaching.  He  welcomed  every  indica- 
tion of  their  growing  intelligence  ;  and  when  He 
discerned  that  they  were  awake  to  His  meaning, 
'  He  rejoiced  in  the  Holy  Spirit '  (Lk  10=')- 

They  trusted  Him.— The  result  at  which  Jesus 
aimed  in  all  His  dealings  with  them  was  the  pro- 
duction in  them  of  faith  ;  and  by  faith  He  meant 
a  trust  in  Himself  as  complete  as  that  which  men 
ought  to  repose  in  God.  Without  doubt,  this 
raises  far-reaching  questions  regarding  His  per- 
sonal relation  to  God.    But  the  fact  itself  remains. 


CHARACTER  OF  CHRIST 


CHARACTER  OF  CHRIST        291 


as  an  element  in  the  portrait  of  Christ,  whether 
presente<l  by  the  Synoptics  or  by  the  Fourth  Gos- 
pel, that  Jesiis  directed  men  to  Himself  as  the 
source  of  all  good,  whether  lower  or  higher  (Mt 
8'°-  ",  and  many  instances  connected  with  the 
healing  of  the  body  ;  Lk  7*",  and  other  instances 
where  spiritual  effects  are  secured  by  faith,  which 
are  to  be  found  in  the  Synoptics,  and  more  copi- 
ously in  the  Fourth  Gospel).  His  'training  of  the 
Twelve '  was  not  wholly  fruitless.  They  gave  Him 
what  He  sought,  though  not  with  the  largeness 
and  simplicity  for  which  He  longed. 

It  is  noteworthy  that  their  faith  in  Him  is  not 
to  be  gauged  by  its  verbal  expression.  That  might 
be  surprisingly  full,  while  the  faith  might  be  most 
rudimentary  ;  or  the  expression  of  faith  might  well- 
nigh  be  silent,  while  yet  the  trust  itself  remained, 
scarce  distinguishable  from  despair,  and  yet  a  root 
whence  life  might  come.  From  the  beginning  Jesus 
produced  an  impression  upon  those  admitted  to  His 
company,  for  which  they  felt  there  was  only  one 
possible  interpretation  ;  and  this,  even  at  that 
early  stage,  they  stated  with  great  fulness  (Jn  !•"• 
«. «).  Jesus,  however,  did  not  consider  that  His 
end  was  gained,  but  proceeded  with  His  education 
of  these  men,  and  allowed  all  factors  in  the  case, 
especially  such  as  seemed  to  exclude  the  possibility 
of  Messianic  glory,  to  make  their  due  impress. 
Then,  at  the  proper  psychological  moment,  He  put 
the  supreme  question—'  Who  say  ye  that  I  am  ! ' 
and  received  from  Peter's  lips  the  confession  of 
His  Messiahship  (Mt  16"').  Even  then  Jesus  was 
under  no  illusion  with  respect  to  the  faith  which 
had  received  such  emphatic  expression.  He  made 
allowances  for  an  eclipse  of  faith  which  mi^ht 
seem  total ;  but  still,  in  spite  of  all  appearances,  He 
believed  in  His  disciples'  faith  in  Him,  not  indeed 
in  their  intellectual  or  emotional  utterances,  but 
in  the  surrender  of  their  wills  to  Him,  and  their 
personal  loyalty. 

We  are  thus  recalled  to  the  darker  side  of  their 
relations  with  Him.  Indeed,  readers  of  the  narra- 
tive are  apt  to  be  more  severe  in  their  judgment 
upon  the  disciples  than  was  the  Master  Him- 
self. Certainly  their  defects  and  shortcomings  are 
patent  enough,  and  the  contrast  between  their 
Master  and  them  can  scarcely  be  exaggerated. 
He  has  not  where  to  lay  His  head;  their  minds 
are  occupied  with  the  question  of  rewards  (Mt 
19^).  He  is  meek  and  lowly  in  heart ;  they  dis- 
i)ute  about  pre-eminence  (Mt  18'"^,  Lk  22-^).  His 
kingdom  is  for  the  poor  in  spirit ;  tliey  lay  plans 
for  private  advantage  (Mt  20=").  It  is  not  of  this 
world  ;  to  the  end  they  are  thinking  of  physical 
force  (Lk  22*^*).  He  invites  all  to  His  fellowship ; 
they  are  narrow  and  exclusive  (Mk  9^'"').  Fury 
is  not  in  Him  ;  they  would  invoke  judgment  upon 
adversaries  (Lk  9"-«).  They  boasted  their  cour- 
age ;  but  in  the  hour  of  His  uttermost  peril  '  they 
all  forsook  him,  and  fled  '  (Mt  26=').  There  can  be 
no  doubt  that  these  things  greatly  moved  Him, 
but  the  note  of  personal  ofTence  is  entirely  lack- 
ing. There  is  astonishment  at  their  slowness,  but 
no  bitterness  or  petulance  :  '  Do  ye  not  remember?' 
(Mk  8'*) ;  '  Are  ye  also  even  yet  without  under- 
standing?' (I51'') ;  '  Have  ye  not  yet  faith?'  (Mk  4"). 
Sometimes  silence  is  His  severest  answer  :  '  Lord, 
here  are  two  swords !  It  is  enough  ! '  (Lk  22.^). 
He  makes  His  very  censures  the  occasion  of  further 
instruction  :  '  It  is  not  so  among  you.  .  .  .  Tlie  Son 
of  Man  came  to  minister '  (Mk  10^^  ■").  Even  when 
His  spirit  was  most  grieved,  there  was  no  flash  of 
resentment,  but  only  the  most  poignant  tenderness : 
'  Simon,  sleepest  thou  ?  couldest  tliou  not  watch  one 
hour?'  .  .  .  (Mk  U");  'The  Lord  turned,  and 
looked  upon  Peter '  (Lk  22«")- 

This  ignorance  and  waywardness  on  the  part  of 
His  disciples,  combined  with  their  genuine  love 


for  Him  and  His  abounding  love  for  them,  consti- 
tuted a  very  severe  trial  of  Jesus'  fidelity  to  His 
vocation.  '  The  greatest  temptation,'  says  a  keen 
analyst  of  character,  '  is  the  temptation  to  love 
evil  in  those  we  love,  or  to  be  lowered  into  the 
colder  moral  atmosphere  of  intense  human  affec- 
tion, or  to  shrink  from  what  is  required  of  us  that 
would  pain  it.'  Jesus  loved  His  friends.  He  knew 
that  His  course  of  conduct  would  inflict  upon  them 
unspeakable  disappointment  and  distress  ;  and  this 
knowledge  must  have  filled  His  own  heart  with 
keenest  pain.  When,  accordingly,  the  disciple 
who  most  clearly  confessed  His  ^lessiahship  de- 
nounced the  path  He  had  chosen,  the  path  of  suf- 
fering, as  inconsistent  with  the  rank  He  had  led 
His  friends  to  believe  was  His,  He  felt  Himself 
assailed  in  what  the  author  above  quoted  ventures 
to  call  His  'weakest  point.'  It  was  <Ae  Tempta- 
tion repeated  ;  and  as  such  He  repelled  it  with  hot 

In  the  case  of  one  of  the  Twelve,  it  is  to  be 
noted  that  his  criticism  was  not  a  temptation, 
because  it  was  not  the  result  of  uncomprehending 
love,  but  of  intelligent  and  bitter  hate.  Judas 
discerned  the  inevitable  issue  of  Jesus'  line  of 
action  ;  perceived  that  it  involved  all  his  own 
secret  ambitions  in  utter  ruin  ;  and  in  revenge  de- 
termined to  be  the  instrument  of  the  destruction 
which  he  foresaw.  Again  and  again  Jesus  inter- 
posed to  save  him  by  warnings,  which  Judas  alone 
could  comprehend  in  their  dreadful  significance : 
'  One  of  you  shall  betray  me'  (Jn  13=',  ef.  6™  '  One 
of  you  [the  Twelve]  is  a  devil').  In  the  end 
He  had  to  let  him  go  :  '  That  thou  doest,  do 
quickly'  (v.=').  The  depth  of  Jesus'  acquaintance 
with  God,  the  honour  He  put  on  human  nature, 
may  be  measured  by  His  dealing  with  Judas. 
There  are  some  things  God  cannot  do.  This  Divine 
inability  Jesus  recognized,  and  made  it  the  norm 
of  His  own  dealing  with  souls.  We  need  not 
apologize  for  Jesus'  choice  of  Judas.  He  chose 
him  for  the  very  qualities  which  led  Him  to  the 
others,  and  which  were,  perhaps,  present  in  Judas 
in  a  conspicuous  degree.  He  loved  him  as  He 
loved  the  others,  and  with  a  yet  deeper  yearning. 
But  there  came  a  time  when,  in  imitation  of  the 
Father,  He  felt  bound  to  stand  aside.  To  have 
saved  Judas  by  force  would  have  violated  the 
conditions  under  which  the  redemption  of  man  is 
possible. 

Even  the  briefest  review  of  Christ's  relations  to 
His  friends  constrains  the  inference  that,  in  the 
essential  qualities  of  friendship,  He  is  perfect ; 
and  the  supposition  becomes  altogether  reason- 
able, that,  if  He  were  alive  now  and  accessible, 
the  possession  of  His  friendship  would  be  salva- 
tion, and  the  loss  of  it  would  be  the  worst  fate 
that  could  befall  any  human  being. 

3.  Mankind. — The  attitude  of  Jesus  toward  His 
fellow-men  is  determined  by  the  function  which 
He  had  been  led,  through  His  deep  sympathy  with 
God,  to  assume  on  their  behalf.  He  believes  Him- 
self called  to  'fulfil,'  i.e.  to  perfect,  and  so  to 
accomplish  as  permanent  spiritual  fact,  the  reli- 
gion of  the  OT.  We  must  not  raise  premature 
questions,  but  we  must  not  evade  plain  facts. 
Jesus  springs  from  the  OT.  He  transcended  it  in 
this,  that  He  believed  the  privileges  of  the  New 
Covenant  were  to  be  verified,  consummated,  and 
bestowed  upon  men,  through  His  mission.  This 
mission  He  accepted,  in  clear  prevision  of  what  it 
involved,  and  in  deep  love  to  God  and  to  men.  It 
is  plain  that  such  a  position  carries  with  it  unique 
authority,  and  warrants  claims  of  extraordinary 
magnitude.  He  who  knows  Himself  to  be  the 
mediator  of  the  highest  good  to  men  knows  Him- 
self to  be  supreme  among  men.  This  consciousness 
is  clear  and  unmistakable  in  the  utterances  of 


292         CHARACTER  OF  CHRIST 


CHARACTER  OF  CHRIST 


of  a  trust  and  a  reverence  that  are  nothing 
than  religious  (Mk  2",  Lk  W,  Mt  10»-  IS^").  He 
passes  verdicts  upon  their  inner  state  that  are  not 
less  than  DiWne  in  their  insight  and  their  absolute- 
ness (Lk  9"-''^,  Mt  9-*).  He  makes  demands 
which  no  one  has  a  right  to  make  who  does  not 
know  Himself  to  be  completely  the  organ  of  the 
Divine  authority  (Mt  4''  9»  19='  1(F).  He  claims 
to  be  the  arbiter  of  the  final  destinies  of  men  (Mk 
8®,  Mt  7"-^  13-"  16=',  together  with  the  undoubted 
teaching  of  the  so-called  eschatological  discourses 
Mt25''-),  a  function  which  in  the  OT  belongs  not 
even  to  Messiah,  but  to  Jehovah  alone  (Jl  3'-,  Mai 
3'  4').  Such  a  consciousness,  whose  intensity  sug- 
gests, if  it  does  not  prove,  a  unique  constitution  of 
the  person  of  Christ,  throws  into  high  relief  aspects 
of  the  character  of  Christ  which  seem  at  a  cursory 
glance  incongruous  with  it. 

(1)  Loicliness. — The  self-assertion  of  Jesus  is  not 
the  assertion  of  a  self  independent  in  its  power 
and  dignity,  but  of  a  self  which  has  no  interest 
save  the  cause  of  God,  no  glory  that  is  not  His. 
At  the  heart  of  the  self-assertion  of  Jesus  there  is 
profound  self-renunciation.  It  would  be  a  mistake 
to  describe  Jesus  as  selfless.  He  has  a  self,  which 
He  might  have  made  independent  of  God,  which, 
however,  in  perfect  freedom  of  act,  He  sunendered 
wholly  to  God.  The  lowliness  of  Christ,  accord- 
ingly, is  not  mere  modesty  or  diffidence.  It  is  the 
quality  of  a  self,  at  once  asserted  and  denied. 
This  paradox  is  carried  out  during  His  whole 
career.  In  youth,  when  the  purpose  of  His  life  is 
being  formed,  there  is  no  irritable  self-conscious- 
ness. In  manhood,  when  the  knowledge  of  His 
mission  is  clear  and  full,  and  the  spiritual  distance 
which  sejiarated  Him  from  other  men  is  obvious  to 
His  inward  eye,  there  is  no  outward  separateness 
of  manner.  Tlie  life  of  the  common  people  was 
His  life,  wthout  any  trace  of  condescension  or 


no  sense  of  incongruity  on  His  part  between  what 
He  was  and  the  world  He  lived  in.  In  His  teach- 
ing He  is  able  to  attack  pride  without  any  risk  of 
having  imputed  to  Him  a  pride  more  subtle  and 
more  ottensive.  More  remarkable  still.  He  offers 
Himself  as  a  pattern  of  the  very  humility  He  is 
inculcating,  without  raising  any  suspicion  of  un- 
reality. The  words,  'I  am  n'leek  and  lowly  in 
heart'  (Mt  11="),  on  the  lips  of  any  other  liian, 
would  refute  the  claim  they  make.  In  His  case  it 
is  not  so.  They  mean  that  the  self  which  lays  its 
yoke  on  men  is'already  cruciHed,  and  lias  no  claim 
to  make  <in  its  own  fipli.ilf.  Towrird  the  close  of 
Hislif.i  it^o|"'"  ^'■'•'■'■«  i-  -'^en,  V  hen,  at  the  Last 
Sup]..'!-.  Ill  full  rniiMinii-iir--  .,1  lln  persoual  dig- 
nity, lie  »a>liea  the  Let  .4  ih.i-e  who.  He  knew, 
would  fail  Him  in  the  eml,  and  of  one  by  whose 
impending  treachery  His  own  ^^  ould  soon  be  nailed 
to  the  cross. 

(2)  6'0)mV?--m?c»c,?,s.— With  His  idea  of  m.in  and 
His  conceiiti'.ii  uf  Ili^  v.rrutinn.  it  v,.i-  ihi|..,,,iM,. 
for  Jesus    tu    n-j.MrJ    liunnii    ]  .ri  ~,  m, , '  1 1  ■,       -   ..ili.: 

than  sacred.     All   th.-  .iu.~  mi   h-.v!,:','        : 

ingly,  He  paiM  vith  -crupuh.u,  .x.n  t  ii  u  1...  It 
would  be  Mi|i'illuous  to  searcli  in  tlie  narratives 
for  i]i-t  line,  ,it  His  justice,  honesty,  and  truth. 
The  di-tiiirih.  11. -s  of  His  calling  kept  Him  apart 
from  the  e.ile-i:i--tical  and  political  institutions  of 
His  country ;  but  He  was  careful  not  to  disturb 
them,  even  when  He  felt  most  critical  of  them 
(Mt  17=^-=',  Mk  12"),  and  the  charge  of  rebellion 
was  readily  seen  by  I'ilate  to  be  baseless.  The 
same  distinctiveness  deprived  Him  of  a  business 
career,  and,  therefore,  of  the  sphere  wherein  many 
virtues  are  most  severely  tried  ;  but  it  is  note- 
worthy tliat  the  disciple  company  had  a  treasurer, 


whose  duty  it  was  to  take  care  of  the  money  in- 
trusted to  him,  and  whose  dishonesty  became  a 
step  toward  Calvary  (Jn  12^).  Towards  individ- 
uals His  attitude  was  wholly  without  respect  of 
jiersons.  He  paid  men  the  honour  of  being  per- 
fectly frank  and  fearless  in  all  His  dealings  with 
tlieni.  He  did  them  the  justice  of  lettin"  them 
know  the  judgment  He  passed  upon  them.  Herod, 
Pilate,  the  Pharisees,  stood  before  His  bar  and 
heard  their  sentence.  His  fairness  is  never  more 
conspicuous  than  in  His  dealing  with  Judas,  whom 
He  would  not  permit  to  suppose  that  he  was  unde- 
tected, Jesus  fully  recognizing  that  a  man's  proba- 
tion can  be  carried  on  only  in  the  light. 

But  there  is  due  to  human  nature  more  than  the 
strictest  honesty  or  truth.  Jesus'  authority  over 
men,  instead  of  leading  Hira  to  be  careless  in  the 
handling  of  a  soul,  impelled  Him  to  an  exquisite 
carefulness  which  extended  from  the  needs  of  the 
body  to  the  more  delicate  concerns  of  the  mind. 
If  He  imposes  heavy  tasks,  He  remembers  the 
frailty  of  the  human  frame :  '  Come  ye  apart,  and 
rest  awhile '  (Mk  6^').  If  the  coming  grief  saddens 
His  companions.  He  turns  from  His  own  far  deeper 
sorrow  to  still  their  tumultuous  distress  :  '  Let  not 
your  heart  be  troubled,  neither  let  it  be  afraid' 
(Jn  14').  If  He  must  rebuke.  His  reproaches  pass 
into  excuses  :  '  The  spirit  indeed  is  willing,  but  the 
flesh  is  weak  '  (Mt  26^').  Most  lovely  of  all  is  His 
treatment  of  those  who  nii"ht  seem  to  have  for- 
feited all  claim  to  respect.  He  laboured  by  a  more 
emphatic  courtesy,  a  more  tender  chivalry,  to  bind 
up  the  broken  self-respect,  and  to  rebuke  that 
insolent  contempt  of  the  sinful  and  degi"aded  which 
so  deeply  dishonours  God.  Before  the  ideal  in 
publican  and  harlot  He  bowed  in  reverence,  and 
constituted  Himself  its  resolute  defender. 

(3)  Compassion. — The  respect  which  Jesus  has 
for  human  nature  becomes,  in  presence  of  human 
need,  a  very  passion  for  helping,  healing,  saving. 
The  qualities  which  most  deeply  impressed  the 
men  and  women  of  His  day,  and  which  shine  most 
clearly  in  His  portrait,  are  not  His  supernatural 
gifts,  but  His  unwearied  goodness.  His  sincere 
kindness.  His  great  gentleness.  His  deep  and 
tender  pity.  By  these  He  has  captivated  the 
iiiKi^'inatioii,  and  won  the  reverence  of  humanity. 
TIji  11,1  lai  i\  r,  have  felt  the  throbbing  compassion 
..I    I  ,   and  have  used  the  very  phrase 

XM    I  ,    -  iM.uotony  (Mk  l",  Mt  2tf«  9*,  Lk 

:'■■,  Mt  if-  i:.  -1. 

The  compassion  of  Jesus  is  manifest  in  the 
wonderful  works  which  are  ascribed  to  Him.  All 
of  them,  with  the  exception  of  'the  coin  in  the 
fish's  mouth'  and  'the  withering  of  the  fruitless 
fig-tree,'  which  have  a  special  didactic  aim,  are 
works  of  mercy.  They  are,  no  doubt,  proofs  of 
power;  but  they  are  essentially  instances  of  the 
sympathy  of  Jesus,  in  virtue  of  which  He  enters 
into  the  fulness  of  human  need  The  instinct  of 
one  Evangelist  has  no  doubt  directed  subsequent 
thought  toward  the  truth.  When  Jesus  wrought 
Hi^  liealing  miracles.  He  was  fultillin"  a  prophecy 
\\liirli  had  special  reference  to  sin  (Mt  8").  By 
iMi  ri-v  exercise  of  iwwer  did  He  relieve  the  dis- 
n.-^e^of  men,  but  by  a  real  assumption  of  their 
sorrow.  Every  such  act  stands  in  organic  con- 
nexion with  the  deed  of  the  Cross,  in  which  He 
bare  the  sin  which  is  the  root  of  all  human 
infirmities. 

Yet  more  conspicuously  the  compassion  of  Jesus 
is  to  be  seen  in  the  method  of  His  ministrij,  which 
led  Him  to  seek  the  company  of  sinners,  not 
because  their  sin  was  not  abhorrent  to  His  nature, 
but  because  He  loved  His  vocation,  and  loved  those 
who  were  its  objects.  The  disinterestedness  which 
Plato  ascribes  to  the  true  physician  deepens,  in 
the  case  of  this  Healer  of  men,   to  a  pure  and 


CHAEACTER  OF  CHRIST 


CHARACTER  OF  CHRIST 


burning  passion.  Twice  His  compassion  found 
vent  in  tears :  once  in  presence  of  man's  mortality, 
once  in  sight  of  the  city  whose  abuse  of  privilege 
had  earned  extremity  of  woe.  There  are  depths 
here  we  cannot  fathom,  since  there  is  mercifully 
denied  us  perfect  knowledge  of  the  evil  which 
Jesus'  knowledge  of  God  fully  disclosed  to  His 
view.  Knowing  God,  living  in  unbroken  fellow- 
ship with  Him,  Jesus  knew,  as  none  other  could, 
■what  sin  and  death  were.  He  lived  and  died  with 
the  spectacle  of  their  power  ever  before  Him.  His 
kiiiiwli'duc  is  I  he  measure  of  His  compassion,  and 

(1)  /.,,./".'  Without  doubt,  Jesus  believed 

lliiiiscit  Id  Ih-  Ihc  agent  of  the  Divine  love,  the 
mediator  of  the  Divine  forgiveness.  He  had  power 
on  earth  to  forgive  sins  (Mt  9"^).  This  forgiveness 
He  announced  as  the  prerogative  of  His  office  ;  but 
the  actual  experience  of  forgiveness,  as  the  redeem- 
ing act  of  God,  came  through  the  love  which  Jesus 
Himself  manifested.  His  welcome  of  sinners  was 
their  reception  into  the  fellowship  of  God.  This 
is  a  fact  which  no  prejudice  against  doctrine 
ought  to  invalidate,  which,  probably,  no  doctrine 
can  adequately  explain.  Hence  follow  two  features 
of  the  portrait  of  Christ,  each  most  signilicant  and 
suggestive.  He  accepted  the  gratitude  of  forgiven 
sinners  as  though  He  were  God's  own  representa- 
tive (Lk  7«-oii) ;  and  He  regarded  sins  committed 
against  Himself  as  committed  against  God,  who 
in  His  mission  was  seeking  to  save  men.  His  for- 
giveness of  such  oH'ences,  accordingly,  is  not 
measurable  in  terms  of  quantity— unto  seven  times 
or  seventy  times  .seven  ;  but  has  the  very  qualities 
of  boundlessness  and  inexhaustibleness  which  He 
attributes  to  the  forgiveness  of  God.  There  is 
only  one  limitation,  and  that  does  not  belong  to 
the  character  of  God,  but  to  the  constitution  of 
human  nature.  Tliei-e  is  a  sin  which  hath  never 
forgiveness  (Mt  12"- ^-,  Mk  3=»-  -■>,  Lk  12'»).  It  does 
not  consist,  however,  in  a  definite  offence  against 
God  or  His  Christ,  but  in  a  frame  of  mind,  an 
liabitude  of  soul,  which  is  psj'chologically  beyond 
reach  of  forgiveness.  Apart  from  this  limit,  which 
on  God's  side  is  none,  forgiveness  is  inlinite. 

When,  accordingly,  we  proceed  to  examine  the 
sins  committed  against  Jesus,  we  i^eroeive  tliat 
they  form  an  ascending  scale  of  guilt,  accordiiit; 
to  the  advancing  measure  of  light  and  privilem' 
against  which  they  were  couiniitted,  ancl  so  also 
of  pain  to  Him  and  of  peril  to  the  transgressors. 
First,  there  is  the  sin  of  those  who  were  directly 
responsiWe  for  His  death.  Dark  and  dreadful 
though  this  was,  compounded  of  the  vilest  qualities 
of  polluted  human  nature,  it  was,  nevertheless, 
even  in  its  dea<lliest  guilt,  not  a  sin  against  abso- 
lutely clear  conviction.  Hence  the  victim  of  so 
much  wronw  prays  even  while  the  nails  rend  His 
flesh  :  '  Father,  forgive  them  ;  for  they  know  not 
what  they  do'  (Lk  23'*).  It  is  impossible  to  narrow 
the  scope  of  this  petition  to  the  unconscious  instru- 
ments, the  Roman  soldiers ;  it  must  extend  also 
to  the  Jews  themselves,  to  tlie  mob,  and  even 
to  their  more  guilty  rulers.  Peter  (Ac  3")  and 
Paul  (1  Co  -2')  cannot  ha\e  been  mistaken  in  their 
interpretation  of  the  vnum  w  hich  slew  their  Lord. 

Second,  there  is  the  sin  nf  I  In  .si-  \\liii  deserted  Him 
in  His  need,  and  especially  ol  him  who  denied  his 
Master  with  oaths  and  curses.  Tliu>-  were  bound 
to  Jesus  by  every  tie  of  aflection  aiid  of  loyalty. 
He  trusted  them,  and  they  failed  Him.  Yet  it 
could  not  be  said  of  them  that  they  kitew  what 
they  did.  Their  action  was  without  premedita- 
tion, wiiliniil  i.'-l  I'useof  its  meaning.  A  sjiasm 
of  ovi-r|"i\\ri  iiij  I,  .11  (confounded  their  intelligence 
and  dc.^lroyi'il  their  resolution.  Shameful  it  was, 
and  must  ha\e  wrung  the  heart  of  Jesus  with 
anguish ;    yet    at    its    worst    it    was    committed 


against  the  Son  of  Man,  not  against  the  Holy 
Spirit.  They  knew  not  what  they  were  about  to 
do,  but  He  knew  (Mk  14"),  and  broke  their  hearts 
with  His  free  forgiveness  (v.'-). 

Third,  the  sin  of  Judas.  Of  all  the  crimes  of 
which  guilty  man  is  capable,  treachery  is,  in  the 
judgment  of  all  men,  the  most  dreadful ;  and 
therefore  Dante  (Inferno,  xxxi.  134)  has  placed 
Judas  in  the  jaws  of  Lucifer.  Did  Judas,  then, 
commit  the  sin  against  the  Holy  Spirit?  It  is 
profitless  to  discuss  the  question.  No  absolute 
verdict  is  possible.  It  is  certain  that  Jesus  dealt 
with  Judas,  in  clear  light  of  truth,  with  the 
utmost  consideration,  and  with  far-reaching  for- 
bearance. Appeal  after  appeal  He  made  to  him, 
.seeking  to  reveal  him  to  himself,  while  scrupu- 
lously shielding  hini  from  the  su.spicions  of  his 
fellows,  and  retaining  him  to  the  last  possible 
moment  within  the  sphere  of  loving  influence. 
Finally,  He  gave  him  that  permission  to  do  wrong 
which  human  freedom  wrings  from  Divine  omni- 
potence, and  which  is,  at  the  same  time,  God's 
severest  judgment  upon  the  sinner  (Jn  13",  Mt 
26=0  KV).  Who  can  tell  if  it  lie  not  also  God's  last 
offer  of  mercy  ?  In  the  end  (perhaps  not  too  late), 
the  goodness  of  Jesus  smote  with  overwhelming 
force  upon  the  cnnscicnce  of  .T\idas.  He  'repented 
hims.df  (Mt27-l.  Wh.-ilrvor  v:ilu.'  may  be  attached 
to  sui-h  I'i'i  ciihiurc,  w  li:iti'\  IT  (Irstiny  may  have 
.awaited  .ludas  beyond  (lie\cil  of  llesh,  which  he 
so  violently  tore  aside,  there  can  at  least  be  no 
more  impressive  testimony  to  the  forbearance,  the 
love,  and  the  wisdom  of  Jesus,  than  this  over- 
whelming remorse. 

V.  The  Virtuks  of  His  vocation.— The  end 
for  which  Jesus  lived  determined  all  His  actions, 
and  called  into  exercise  all  the  virtues  of  His 
character,  as  well  the  more  general  characteristics 
of  spiritual-mindedness,  love  to  God,  and  love  to 
men,  as  the  specific  virtues  of  His  social  relations. 
The  vocation  of  Jesus,  however,  as  Servant  of  the 
Lord  was  definite ;  and  with  respect  to  it  He  had 
a  definite  work  to  do.  Questions  as  to  the  concep- 
tions which  it  imidies  with  respect  to  the  constitu- 
tion of  Clirist's  person  do  not  now  concern  us.  But 
we  are  concerned  to  observe  that,  in  His  discharge 
of  His  dnty,  cei'tain  as|.ei-ls  of  His  cliaracter  shine 

1.  Faithfulness.— Tli'Tf  is  an  unmistakable  note 
of  compulsion  in  Ilis  life.  He  has  received  a  pre- 
cise charge,  and  He  will  carry  it  out  with  absolute 
precision  and  unswerving  fidelity.  This  is  the 
mind  of  the  boy,  when  as  yet  the  nature  of  His 
mission  cannot  have  been  fully  before  Him  (Lk 
2'").  This  is  the  conviction  of  the  man,  who  has 
come  to  know  what  office  He  holds,  and  what  is 
the  thing  He  has  to  do  or  endure  (Mt  16=',  Mk  8^'). 
Many  specific  expressions  {e.q.  Jn  4'*  9*-^  IP-'") 
and  the  whole  tenor  of  His  life  convey  the  same 
impression  of  a  man  looking  forwaril  to  a  goal,  in 
itself  most  terrible,  yet  pressing  toward  it  with 
unwavering  determination.  The  imperative  of 
duty,  and  the  burden  of  inexorable  necessity,  are 
laid  upon  His  conscience ;  and  He  responds  with 
complete  obedience. 

The  author  of  the  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews,  who 
displays  a  singular  insight  into  the  ethical  condi- 
tions 'of  Christ's  work,  mentions  the  virtue  of 
fidelity  as  being  conspicuous  in  '  the  Apostle  and 
High  Priest  of  our  confession '  (He  3-- «),  and  draws 
a  far-reaching  parallel  and  contrast  between  Him 
and  Moses,  as  between  a  son  and  a  servant.  In 
filial  fnit|>fnlTip-  thove  are  three  aspects:  {a)  per- 

fe.-t  ' I  .    '     ■•  •'  :Mi  I'm.  Father's  will,  (i)  entire 

abs..,| I     I  1      ii.  .      roncerns,  (c)  free  access 

to  (l.r  I  ,h|,,  I  ^  1.  -.1,1,,.  ,;  and  these  are  plainly 
seen  m  L  linsi  s  disihaigu  of  His  duty.  There  is 
not  the  slightest  trace  of  servility.     The  will  to 


294         CHAEACTER  OF  CHRIST 


CHARACTER  OF  CHRIST 


which  He  yielded  absolute  devotion  is  tliat  of  One 
■whom  He  perfectly  loved  and  trusted,  to  whom  He 
could  freely  come  for  everything  He  required. 
The  absolute  control  of  the  Divine  resources,  which 
is  attributed  to  Him  in  the  Fourth  Gospel  (Ju  13-'), 
is  borne  out  by  every  trait  of  the  Synoptic  por- 
trait. He  was  not  toiling  with  inadequate  resources 
at  an  uncomprehended  task.  Even  Avhen  the  strain 
upon  His  will  is  heaviest,  and  His  whole  soul  shrinks 
from  what  lies  before  Him,  there  is  one  word  which 
delivers  His  faithfulness  from  any  suspicion  of 
bondage :  '  Fattier,  if  it  be  possible '  .  .  .  {Mt 
26''-«  MkUS's,  Lk22«). 

2.  Courage.— The  courage  of  Jesus  Christ  is  the 
crown  of  His  faithfulness.  It  was  not  tested  by 
such  occasions  as  the  sinking  sliip  or  the  stricken 
field,  but  by  conditions  yet  more  severe.  Out- 
raged prejuclice,  wounded  pride  of  caste,  tlireatened 
privilege,  were  banded  together  to  destroy  Him. 
They  disguised  themselves  in  zeal  for  the  honour 
of  God.  They,  no  doubt,  attracted  to  their  side 
sincere,  though  unenlightened,  loyalty  to  His  cause  ; 
and  Jesus  must  have  known  the  reformer's  keenest 
pain,  the  sense  of  wounding  good  and  true  men. 
They  sought  alliances  with  powers  most  alien  to 
their  professed  aims.  They  found  support  in  the 
ignorant  enthusiasm  of  the  multitude,  who  mistook 
the  aims  of  Jesus,  and  in  the  more  culpable  mis- 
understanding of  His  disciples  and  friends.  The 
Fourth  Gospel  is  surely  historic  in  representing 
the  breach  between  Jesus  and  the  leaders  of  the 
religious  world  of  His  day  as  having  talven  place 
in  the  opening  weeks  of  His  ministry.  It  is  in- 
conceivable that  the  wide  divergence  of  His  views 
from  those  of  the  Pharisees  and  Sadducees  should 
not  have  been  manifest  in  the  very  first  announce- 
ment of  them.  He  certainly  was  not,  and  His 
adversaries  could  not  have  been,  blind  to  the  issues 
of  the  controversy.  It  had  not  j'roceeded  far, 
when  it  became  apparent  to  them  that  it  could 
be  terminated  only  by  their  defeat  or  by  His 
destruction.  With  unscrupulous  plans  and  bitter 
hate  they  laboured  to  compass  His  ruin.  ^Vith 
sublime  "courage  He  persevered  in  His  vocation, 
though  He  was  well  aware  tliat  every  step  He 
took  only  made  the  end  more  certain.  When  the 
end  comes,  it  finds  Him  spiritually  prepared.  He 
moves  with  firm  and  equal  tread.  From  the 
lo^-ing  fellowship  of  the  Supper  He  passes,  without 
bewilderment,  to  the  conflict  of  Gethsemane.  From 
the  shadow  of  the  trees  and  the  darker  shade  of 
His  unknown  agony.  He  goes  to  face  the  traitor, 
witli  no  other  tremor  than  that  of  amazement  at 
such  consummate  wickedness  (Lk  22^) ;  and  sur- 
renders Himself  to  the  instruments  of  injustice, 
less  their  captive  than  their  conqueror.  Amid 
the  worst  tortures  men  can  inflict,  we  hear  no 
murmur.  We  do  not  merely  observe,  with  what 
of  admiration  it  might  have  deserved,  a  stoical 
fortitude,  which  proudly  repels  every  assault  on 
the  self-sufficiency  of  the  human  'spirit.  We 
observe  a  more  moHng  spectacle,  the  Servant  of 
the  Lord  accepting  unfathomed  pain  as  the  crown 
of  His  vocation,  thus  rendering  to  the  Father  a 
perfect  obedience,  and  finishing  the  work  given 
Him  to  do. 

3.  Patience.— It  is  an  error  to  describe  patience 
as  a  'passive'  virtue,  if  by  that  epithet  is  indi- 
cated tne  spirit  which  niakeg  no  resistance,  becanse 
resistance  is  seen  to  be  futile.  Patience  is  rather 
the  associate  of  courage,  and  springs  from  the  same 
root,  namely,  identification  of  will  with  a  great 
and  enduring  purpose.  Jesus  has  made  tlie  eternal 
purpose  of  God  for  the  redemption  of  man  the 
controlling  principle  of  His  lite ;  and  therefore 
He  is  enabled  to  be  patient,  in  the  widest  and 
deepest  meanings  of  the  terra.  He  patiently  waits 
for  God.     This  lesson  He  learned  from  the  OT ; 


tliis  gift  He  acquired  in  that  deep  communion 
with  God,  which  was  the  privilege  of  the  OT 
believer,  and  is  the  heart  of  all  tnie  religion. 
Nothing  is  more  remarkable  in  a  man  so  intense, 
endowed,  moreover,  with  supernatural  powers, 
than  His  reserve.  He  is  eager  for  the  achieve- 
ment of  His  task,  straitened  till  His  baptism  be 
accomplished  (Lk  12*).  Yet  He  is  never  betrayed 
into  rashness  of  speech  or  action.  He  maintains 
His  attitude  of  intent  expectancy.  The  idea  of 
an  'hour'  for  Himself,  and  for  His  work,  and  for 
His  great  victory,  known  to  the  Father,  and  made 
known  at  His  discretion,  lies  deep  in  the  heart  of 
Jesus  (>Ik  13^=  14«,  Lk  10^',  Jn  2^  4=>-  ^  SP-^  7™  S* 
J03. 27  131  jijij  fQ  Him  time  was  the  measure  of 
God's  purpose;  death,  'God's  instant'  He /xok-po- 
Bvixei,  suffers  long  with  raaywardor  injurious  persons. 
God  hides  Him  in  His  pavilion  from  the  strife  of 
tongues,  and  from  that  sense  of  personal  injury 
which  enkindles  temper  and  provokes  unadvised 
speech.  So  identified  is  He  witb  God,  that  offences 
against  Himself  lose  themselves  in  Divine  forgive- 
ness. His  meekness  is  not  weakness,  but  that 
amazing  strength  which  can  take  up  a  personal 
WTong,  and  carry  it  into  the  Divine  presence  with 
vicarious  suffering.  He  wro/i^cfi,  endures  in  undying 
hope  the  severest  trial  (He  12=- »).  The  idea  that 
His  death  was  unexpected  by  Jesus,  and  felt  by 
Him  to  demand  an  explanation  which  He  attempted 
to  provide  in  obscure  suggestions  and  laboured 
analogies,  is  most  false  to  the  profound  unity  of 
His  character.  The  Cross  is  the  key  to  His  char- 
acter. This  was  the  climax  of  His  mission,  the 
introduction  to  the  victory  which  lay  beyond ; 
and  this,  when  it  came.  He  endured  with  a  '  brave 
patience '  which  was  rooted  in  His  assurance  that 
His  vocation  was  from  God  and  could  not  fail. 
This  was  His  victory,  even  His  patience  (Rev  1"). 

i.  Calmness. — The  patience  of  Jesus  has  for  its 
inner  correlative  deep  serenity  of  soul.  He  lived 
in  God  ;  and,  therefore,  He  was  completely  master 
of  Himself.  We  observe  in  Him,  as  a  matter  of 
course,  that  control  of  the  so-called  lower  desires 
of  our  nature  which  was  the  Greek  conception  of 
.sober-mindedness  or  temperance.  We  .see,  beyond 
this,  a  more  remarkable  proof  of  self-possession 
in  His  control  over  the  very  moti\'es  and  desires 
which  impelled  Him  to  devote  His  life  to  the 
serrae  of  God  and  man.  There  is  no  feeling  of 
strain  in  the  utterances  of  His  soul  as  He  speaks 
of  or  to  His  Father.  The  phenomena  of  excite- 
ment or  rapture,  which  disfigure  so  many  religious 
biographies,  are  whoUy  absent  from  the  record  of 
His  deepest  experiences.  In  His  attitude  toward 
men,  whom  He  regarded  it  as  His  mission  to  save, 
there  is  perfect  sanity.  The  harsh  or  strident 
note,  which  is  scarcely  ever  absent  in  the  speeches 
of  reformers,  is  never  audible  in  His  words.  His 
love  for  men  is  not  a  mountain  torrent,  but  a  deep, 
calm  current,  flowing  through  all  His  acti^aties. 
We  cannot,  with  verbal  exactness,  attribute  to  Him 
the  'enthusiasm  of  humanity,'  which  the  author 
of  Eece  Homo  regards  as  the  essential  quality  of  a 
Christian  in  relation  to  his  fellow-men,  if,  at  least, 
the  phrase  suggest  even  the  slightest  want  of 
balance,  or  any  ignorance  of  the  issues  of  action, 
or  any  carelessness  with  respect  to  them.  He  is 
the  minister  of  the  Di\ine  purposes,  never  of  His 
own  emotions,  however  pure  and  lofty  these  may 
be.  Yet  we  are  not  to  impute  to  Him  any  un- 
emotional callousness.  He  never  lost  His  calm- 
ness ;  but  He  was  not  always  calm.  He  repelled 
temptation  with  deep  indignation  (Mk  8^).  Hypo- 
crisj'  roused  Him  to  a  flame  of  judgment  (Mk  3* 
1110-17^  Mt  23'-*').  Treachery  shook  Him  to  the 
very  centre  of  His  being  (Jn  13=')-  The  waves  of 
human  sorrow  broke  over  Him  with  a  greater 
grief  than  wrung  the  bereaved  sisters  (Jn  U^""). 


CHARACTER  OF  CHRIST 


CHARACTER  OF  CHRIST 


295 


There  were  times  A\hen  He  bore  an  unknown 
agony,  which  could  be  shared  by  none,  though 
He  sought  for  liunian  sympathy  up  to  tlie  very 
gates  of  the  sanctuary  of  pain  (Jn  12"'',  Mk  14^'"^). 
Yet,  whatever  His  soul's  discipline  might  be,  He 
never  lost  His  self-control,  was  never  distracted  or 
afraid,  but  remained  true  to  His  mission  and  to 
His  Father.  He  feels  anger,  or  sorrow,  or  trouble, 
but  these  emotions  are  under  the  control  of  a  will 
that  is  one  with  the  Divine  will,  and  therefore  are 
comprehended  within  the  perfect  peace  of  a  mind 
stayed  on  God. 

3.  Self-sacrifice. — 'Christ  pleased  not  Himself 
(Ko  15^).  These  words,  brief  though  they  be,  sum 
up  the  character  of  Christ  as  St.  Paul  conceived 
it.  They  convey,  without  doubt,  the  impression 
made  by  the  record  of  His  life.  If  this  estimate 
is  just,  if  Christ  was  an  absolutely  unselfish  man, 
if  He  made  a  full  sacrifice  of  Himself,  His  char- 
acter stands  alone,  unique  in  the  moral  universe. 
We  cannot  make  this  statement  without  raising 
problems  of  immense  difficulty,  which  it  is  the 
business  of  theology  to  face.  But  no  mystery 
beyond  ought  to  restrict  our  acknowledgment  of 
ethical  fact.  Christ  had  a  self,  like  other  men, 
and  might  have  made  it,  in  its  intense  individu- 
ality, His  end,  laying  a  tax  upon  the  whole  uni- 
verse in  order  to  satisfy  it.  The  ideal  of  self- 
satisfaction  was  necessarily  present  to  His  mind, 
inasmuch  as  it  is  inevitably  suggested  in  all  self- 
consciousness.  It  was  definitely  presented  to  Him 
in  His  temptation  in  the  wilderness.  But  once 
for  all  in  that  initial  conflict,  and  again  and  again 
in  life.  He  beat  back  the  temptation,  rejected  that 
ideal,  surrendered  Himself  to  His  vocation,  and 
sought  no  other  satisfaction  than  its  fulfilment. 
His  life  is  a  sacrifice.  He  set  the  world  behind 
His  back,  and  had  no  place  or  portion  in  it  (Lk  9^*). 
The  way  He  went  was  the  path  of  self-denial  and 
cross-bearing  (Mk  8**,  Jn  12"-s-  =«).  His  death  was 
a  sacrifice.  The  death  of  one  whose  life  was  a 
.sacrifice  must  have  had  sacrificial  significance  for 
God  and  man.  It  could  not  be  a  fate  to  be  ex- 
plained by  an  after-thought.  It  must  have  been 
essentially  an  action,  a  voluntary  offering  made  to 
God,  laid  on  the  altar  of  liuman  need.  The  story 
of  the  Passion,  read  from  the  point  where  He  stead- 
fastly set  His  face  to  go  to  Jerusalem  to  tlie  point 
where  He  went,  ns  He  was  wont,  to  tiie  Mount  of 
Olives,  and  so  through  every  detail  of  suffering, 
portrays,  indeed,  one  led  as  a  lamb  to  the  slaughter, 
but  as  certainly  one  who,  liaving  power  to  keep 
His  life,  laid  it  down,  in  free  surrender,  in  deep 
love  to  the  Father  (Jn  10"- '«).  He  was  endowed 
with  powers  which  He  might  have  exerted  to 
deliver  Himself  from  the  hand  of  His  enemies ; 
He  did  not  so  exert  them.  He  did  not  even 
employ  them  to  win  one  slightest  alleviation  of 
His  sufferings.  He  might  have  saved  Himself; 
yet,  with  deeper  truth.  Himself  He  could  not  save. 
The  self-sacrifice  of  Christ  is  the  foundation  of  the 
Kingdom  of  God,  the  purchase  of  man's  redemption, 
the  basis  of  that  morality  which  finds  in  Him  its 
standard  and  its  example. 

Concluding  estimate. —When  we  have  studied 
the  character  of  Christ  from  the  points  of  view  sug- 
gested in  the  foregoing  scheme,  we  are  conscious 
that  we  are  only  on  the  threshold  of  a  great  sub- 
ject, to  whose  wealth  of  meaning  no  formal  study 
can  do  justice.  The  character  of  Christ  presents 
■unsearchable  riches '  to  every  sympathetic  student. 
Every  generation,  since  His  bodily  presence  was 
withdrawn,  has  been  pursuing  that  investigation  ; 
none  has  comprehended  His  fulness,  or  been  forced 
to  look  elsewhere  for  information  and  inspiration. 
He  has  laid  upon  us  the  necessity  of  continuously 
seeking  to  understand  Him,  and  of  applying,  in 


the  manifold  occasions  and  circumstances  of  life, 
the  fulness  of  the  moral  ideal  presented  in  Himself. 

1.  When,  however,  we  pause  in  our  detailed  study 
—to  whatever  length  we  may  have  carried  it— or 
in  our  application  of  His  precept  and  example— 
however  successfully,  or  with  whatever  wistful 
consciousness  of  failure,  we  may  have  pursued  it ; 
wlien  w;e  lift  our  gaze  afresh  to  the  portrait  pre- 
sented in  the  Gospels,  the  impression  deepens  upon 
us  with  new  and  overwhelming  conviction,  that  in 
Christ  there  is  achieved,  as  a  fact  of  the  moral 
universe,  goodness,  not  merely  comparative,  but 
absolute.  It  is  not  merely  that  among  the  choice 
spirits  of  our  race  He  occupies  tlie  front  rank, 
but  that  He  stands  alone.  Jesus  Christ  is  the 
Master  of  all  who  seek  to  know  God,  in  tlie  sense 
that  His  character  is  supreme  and  final  in  the 
moral  progress  of  humanity.  He  is  completely 
human.  Like  men.  He  pursued  the  pathway  of 
development.  Like  men.  He  was  assailed  by 
temptation,  and  waged  incessant  warfare  with 
evil  suggestions.  Yet  He  is  absolutely  unique. 
He  is  not  merely  better  than  other  men.  He  is 
what  all  men  ought  to  be.  It  is  not  merely  that 
we  see  in  Him  an  approximation  to  the  moral 
ideal,  nearer  and  more  successful  than  is  to  be 
discerned  in  any  other  man ;  but  that  we  find  in 
Him  the  moral  ideal,  once  for  all  realized  and 
incarnated,  so  that  no  man  can  ever  go  beyond 
Him,  while  all  men  in  all  ages  will  find  it  their 
strength  and  joy  to  grow  up  toward  the  measure 
of  His  stature.  Again  and  again  we  are  made  to 
feel,  when  we  contemplate  such  virtues  as  have 
been  adverted  to  in  the  preceding  pages,  e.rf.  love 
to  God,  love  to  men,  consecration,  unselfishness, 
and  tlie  like,  that  there  is  the  note  of  absoluteness 
in  His  attainment.  Between  Him  and  the  idesj 
there  is  no  hairbreadth  of  disparity.  His  fulfil- 
ment of  the  will  of  God  is  complete.  What  God 
meant  man  to  be  is  at  once  disclosed  and  finished. 

2.  The  positive  conception  of  the  absolute  good- 
ness of  Jesus  carries  with  it  the  negative  conception 
of  His  sinlessneSB.  As  we  stand  before  the  figure 
in  the  Gospels,  our  sense  of  His  perfection  reaches 
special  solemnity  and  tenderness  in  the  impression 
of  His  stainless  and  lovely  purity.  Attempts,  no 
doubt,  have  been  made  to  fasten  some  charge  of 
sin  on  Jesus,  e.g.  that  of  a  hasty  or  imperious 
temper ;  or  even  to  extract  from  Himself  some 
acknowledgment  of  imperfection  (Mk  10'^).  These 
attempts  have  totally  failed,  and  have  exhibited 
nothing  so  clearly  as  the  fact  that  they  are  after- 
thoughts, designed  to  establish  the  a  priori  dogma 
that  sinlessness  is  an  impossibility.  Such  pro- 
cedure is,  of  course,  wholly  unscientific.  If  a 
record,  otherwise  trustworthy,  jiresents  us  with 
the  portrait  of  a  sinless  man,  we  are  not  entitled 
to  reject  its  testimony  because,  if  we  accept  it,  we 
shall  have  to  abandon  a  dogma  or  revise  an  in- 
duction. When,  accordingly,  we  study  the  NT 
with  unprejudiced  mind,  two  great  certainties  are 
establislied  beyond  question. 

(1)  The  impression  of  His  sinlessness  made  vpon 
His  disciples.  —  Some  of  these  men  had  been  in 
close  contact  with  Him,  a  fellowship  so  intimate 
that  it  was  impossible  that  they  could  be  mistaken 
in  Him.  Through  this  intimacy  their  moral  ideas 
were  enlarged  and  enriched  ;  their  spiritual  insight 
was  made  delicate  and  true.  The  men  who  created 
the  ethic  of  the  NT  are  the  spiritual  leaders  of  the 
human  race,  and  they  owed  their  inspiration  to 
their  Master.  They  knew  all  the  facts.  They 
were  spiritually  competent  to  form  a  sound  esti- 
mate. Without  a  tinge  of  hesitation  they  ascribe 
to  Him  complete  separation  from  the  very  principle 
of  evil  (1  P  2^;  2  Co  5=1,  1  Jn  3=,  Ho  i]"  1"-%  They 
assign  to  Him  an  office  which  required  absolute 
sinlessness,  knowing  that  any  jiroof  of  deviation 


CHARACTER  OF  CHRIST 


CHARACTER  OF  CHRIST 


from  the  holiness  of  God  would  have  reduced  the 
claim  they  made  on  behalf  of  their  Master  to 
utter  confusion  (Ac  3"  7^°  22",  1  Jn  2').  A  group 
of  men,  who  knew  Christ  thoroughly,  believed  Him 
to  be  sinless.  A  generation,  which  had  the  facts 
fully  before  them,  accepted  this  as  the  truth  re- 
garding Jesus  of  Nazareth.  Add  to  this  tlie 
mysterious  effect  the  personality  of  Jesus  had 
upon  those  whose  contact  with  Him  was  brief, 
even  momentary  —  Pilate  (Lk  23^^  Pilate's  wife 
(Mt  27"),  the  centurion  who  superintended  the 
judicial  murder  (Mk  15^,  Lk  23"),  the  malefactor 
who  died  beside  Him  (Lk  23**-).  Among  all  the 
witnesses  the  traitor  himself  is  the  clearest  and 
fullest  (Mt  27^). 

The  knowledge  which  spirit  has  of  spirit,  the 
insight  of  our  moral  nature,  the  verdict  of  con- 
science, are  all  confounded  if  the  taint  of  sin  lay 
on  the  soul  of  Jesus. 

(2)  His  own  self-knowledge  and  His  oirn.  self- 
icitness,  which  establish  the  fact  of  a  conscience 
at  once  perfectly  true  and  absolutely  void  of  any 
sense  of  sin. 

{a)  He  taught  His  disciples  to  pray  for  forgive- 
ness ;  but  He  never  set  them  the  example  of  asking 
it  on  His  own  behalf.  He  Avas  their  example  in 
prayer  as  in  all  else ;  but  that  which  is  a  constituent 
element  in  the  prayers  of  all  sinful  men,  the  con- 
fession of  sin  and  the  supplication  of  forgiveness, 
does  not  appear  in  any  prayer  of  His.  There  is 
even  a  scrupulous  avoidance  of  any  phrase  which 
would  seem  to  include  Himself  in  the  class  of  those 
whose  prayers  must  contain  this  element,  c.ff. 
Mte"- "  7",  where  '  ye '  is  emphatic  and  significant. 

(6)  He  is  absolutely  intolerant  of  evU.  He 
counsels  the  extreme  of  loss  in  preference  to  its 
presence  (Mk  9^^-").  He  traces  it  to  its  source  in 
heart  and  will,  and  demands  cleansing  and  renewal 
there  (Mk  7'=--^).  Vet  nowhere  does  He  bewail  His 
own  pollution,  or  seek  for  cleansing.  He  lives  a 
life  of  strenuous  devotion  ;  but  there  is  not  a  hint 
of  any  process  of  mortifying  sin  in  His  members. 
Such  unconsciousness  of  sin  is  a  psychological 
impossibility,  if  His  was  simply  the  goodness  of  an 
aspiring,  struggling,  human  soul,  striving  after 
the  ideal,  and  ever  drawing  nearer  it.  By  tlie 
very  height  of  His  ideal  He  would  be  convicted  of 
shortcoming.  But  nothing  in  His  language  or 
bearing  suggests,  even  remotely,  such  a  conviction. 
AA''e  know  this  Man,  and  we  know  that  in  His  own 
consciousness  there  was  no  gulf  between  Him  and 
perfection,  and  that  to  His  own  deepest  feeling 
there  was  between  Him  and  the  Father  perfect 
moral  identity.  If  this  Man  be  a  sinner,  the  com- 
petence of  the  moral  judgment  is  destroyed  for  ever. 

(c)  He  required  moral  renewal  on  the  part  of  all 
men  (Mt  18^  Jn  S%  But  there  is  no  record  of 
the  conversion  of  Jesus,  and  there  is  no  hint  of  a 
belief  on  His  part  that  He  needed  it.  True,  He 
accepted,  or  rather  demanded,  baptism  of  John ; 
but  His  action,  as  interpreted  by  Hinif^elf,  plainly 
implies  that  in  uniting  Himself  with  the  sinful 
people.  He  was  under  constraint  of  love,  and  not 
under  the  compulsion  of  an  alarmed  and  awakened 
conscience.  That  there  was  anything  in  His  ex- 
perience analogous  to  a  death  to  sin  of  His  own, 
and  a  rising  into  a  life  of  new  obedience,  is  con- 
tradicted by  every  line  of  the  Gospel  portrait. 

{d)  He  loved  and  pitied  sinners.  His  sympa- 
thetic treatment  of  them  stands  in  lovely  contrast 
with  the  cruelty  of  the  Pharisaic  method.  Yet,  in 
all  His  dealing  witli  sinners,  He  preserves  the 
note  of  ethical  distinction.  He  unites  Himself 
with  sinners.  His  sin-bearing  is  a  fact,  even 
before  Calvary.  Yet  at  the  point  of  closest  and 
most  sympathetic  union  with  sinners  there  is  com- 
plete inward  aloofness  from  their  sin.  The  con- 
tention that  only  a  sinner  can  properly  understand 


a  sinner  and  fully  sympathize  with  him,  is  purely 
a  priori,  and  absolutely  refuted  by  the  ministry 
of  Jesus.  Did  any  philanthropist,  any  lover  of 
souls,  ever  sympathize  as  Jesus  did  with  sinners  ? 
Long  before  Christ,  Plato  had  noted  and  disposed 
of  the  fallacy  that  a  man  needs  to  be  tainted  with 
sin  before  be  can  effectively  deal  with  it.  '  Vice 
can  never  know  both  itself  and  virtue  ;  but  virtue 
in  a  well-instructed  nature  will  in  time  acquire  a 
knowledge  at  once  of  itself  and  of  vice.  The 
virtuous  man,  therefore,  and  not  the  vicious  man, 
will  make  the  wise  judge'  (Republic,  409).  Let  us 
add,  not  a  wise  judge  merely,  but  a  loving  friend 
and  helper.  Sin  is  a  hindrance,  not  a  help,  in 
loving.  The  crowning  help  which  Jesus  bestowed 
the  forgiveness  of  sins.     This  was 


beyond  doubt  a  Divine  prerogative,  both  in  the 
minds  of  those  who  observed  His  conduct  and  in 
His  own.  If  He  exercised  it,  therefore,  while 
aware  of  His  own  sinfulness.  He  was  uttering 
blasphemy,  and  the  worst  verdict  of  His  critics  was 
justifiable.  His  forgiving  sin  is  absolute  proof 
that  to  His  own  consciousness  He  was  sinless. 

(c)  He  died  for  sinners.  What  has  just  been 
said  of  His  forgi^^ng  sinners  applies  with  yet 
mightier  force  to  His  deed  in  dying.  He  believed 
it  to  be  of  such  unique  value  for  God  that,  on  the 
ground  of  it,  He  could  forrive  the  sins  of  men. 
Without  trenching  on  the  discussions  that  gather 
round  the  death  of  Christ,  and  without  attempting 
any  dogmatic  statement,  we  are  safe  in  asserting 
that  to  Jesus  His  blood  was  covenant  blood,  rati- 
fying the  New  Covenant  which  had  been  the  pro- 
found anticipation  of  OT  prophecy  (Jer  SI""**). 
No  man,  conscious  of  being  himself  a  sinner,  could 
have  ~u]>]"i~iil  tliat  his  death  would  create  the 
Covciijiii  .iiicl  ]'i(i.  tire  the  forgiveness  of  sins.  Since 
Je-us  ..  rtiiiily  l.ilieved  that  His  death  would 
have  this  stuinndous  effect,  it  is  certain  also  that 
He  believed  Himself  to  be  utterly  removed  from 
the  need  of  forgiveness. 

AVhat  is  thus  to  be  traced,  as  the  implication  of 
our  Lord's  dealing  Avith  sinners,  becomes  in  the 
Fourth  Gospel  His  explicit  self-assertion.  It  may 
be  that,  had  these  utterances  stood  alone,  they 
might  have  been  discounted  as  due  to  dogmatic 
preconceptions  on  the  part  of  tlie  writer.  Since, 
Iiowever,  they  are  in  complete  2)sychological  har- 
mony with  the  whole  Synoptic  jiortraiture,  they 
cannot  be  thus  explained  away.  They  are,  besides, 
precisely  what  might  be  looked  for,  and  carry  with 
them  strong  internal  evidence  of  their  genuineness. 
Innocence  may  be  unconscious  of  itself,  but  not 
that  sinlessness  which  is  the  correlate  of  perfection. 
Self-knowledge  must  accompany  that  goodness 
which  grows  toward  maturity,  and  maintains  its 
integrity  against  temptation.  Jesus  did  not  live  in 
a  golden  mist.  He  may  be  trusted  in  His  self- 
witness  ;  and  the  occasions  mentioned  in  the 
Fourth  Go.spel  on  which  He  bore  such  witness  are 
precisely  those  of  great  trial  or  deep  experience, 
when  a'  man  is  permitted,  nay  required,  to  state 
tlie  truth  regarding  Himself.  He  bears  witness : 
(a)  before  His  enemies,  as  part  of  His  self-defence 
(Jn  8«),  arguing  from  His  purity  of  heart  to  His 
undimmed  vision  of  things  unseen ;  (^)  to  His 
own,  as  example  and  encouragement  (Jn  15'°), 
revealing  the  secret  of  a  serene  and  joyful  life,  as 
jiart  of  His  last  charge  and  message ;  (7)  to  His 
Father,  in  an  hour  of  sacred  communion  (Jn  11*), 
as  the  review  and  estimate  of  His  life  ;  (5)  on  the 
cross  (Jn  19="),  as  the  summary  of  His  long  war- 
fare, the  note  of  final  achievement  of  the  whole 
will  of  God. 

If  Jesus  were  in  any  degree  sinful.  He  must 
lia\e  known  it,  and  had  He  known  it  He  would 
have  told  us.  If  He  knew  it  and  did  not  tell  us, 
we  should  have  just  cause  of  complaint  against 


CHAEGER 


CHIEF  PRIESTS 


297 


Him,  since,  in  that  case,  He  must  have  allowed  a 
false  impression  to  grow  up  regarding  Him.  If  He 
was  sinful  and  did  not  know  it,  He  must  fall  out 
of  the  rank  of  tlie  best  men,  because  in  that  case 
He  lacks  the  noblest  and  most  moving  element  in 
the  character  of  those  who  have  agonized  heaven- 
ward,— a  deep  sense  of  demerit  and  an  adoring 
sense  of  the  grace  of  God.  But,  in  truth,  the 
mere  statement  of  these  alternatives  and  infer- 
ences is  intolerable.  The  conscience  of  the  race 
has  been  created  by  Jesns  Christ.  His  character 
is  at  once  the  rebuke  and  the  inspiration  of  every 
age.  He  is  the  moral  ideal  realized  once  for  all. 
Tliere  is  no  other,  no  higher  goodness  than  that 
which  is  incarnated  in  Him ;  and,  as  has  been 
said,  '  the  difterence  between  the  highest  morality 
that  exists  and  a  perfect  one  is  a  difference  not  of 
deCTee,  but  of  kind'  (Davidson,  Thcol.  of  O.T.). 

To  this  affirmation  regarding  Jesus  we  are  con- 
strained to  come.  Nothing  less  is  a  fair  inter- 
pretation of  the  record.  He  stands  alone.  Man 
though  He  be.  He  is  distinguished  from  all  men  by 
unique  moral  and  spiritual  excellence.  Between 
Him  and  God  there  is  a  relationship  to  which  there 
is  no  parallel  in  the  case  of  any  other  man.  The 
absolute  distinctiveness  of  the  character  of  Christ 
is  not  a  dogma,  constructed  under  philosophical  or 
theological  influences.  It  is  a  fact  to  wliich  every 
line  of  the  portrait  bears  unansweiable  evidence. 
Stated  as  a  fact,  however,  it  becomes  at  once  a 
problem  which  cannot  be  evaded.  '  Whence  hatli 
this  man  these  things?'  How  the  answer  shall  be 
framed, — whether  the  Nicene  formula  is  adequate, 
or,  if  not,  how  it  is  to  be  corrected  and  supple- 
mented, is  the  task  laid  ujion  the  intellect  and 
conscience  of  the  Church  of  to-day.  It  Is  certain 
that  upon  the  earnestness  and  honesty  with  which 
she  takes  up  that  task  will  depend  her  vitality  and 
her  permanence.  It  is  certain  also  that  intellectual 
progress  in  apprehending  the  mystery  of  the  Person 
of  Christ  will  be  conditioned  liy  moral  progress  in 
apprehending,  ajjpropriating,  and  reproducing  the 
perfection  of  Hi^  chaiactei 

LiTERATrRE  —The  main  source  for  an^   character  study  of 
Chri&t  must  besought  in  the  t;.ospeIstheni<5el\es     Thp  /  tr^ol 
Christ  ivill    of  course    gi\e  abundant  if        it         ''111) 
Ncander    Edeishenn    Didon    Weiss    L 
deahiig  directh  with  the  chara  ter  rf  ( 
seem  to  be  rare      All  Dr  Bru  c  b  w   1 1 
ethical  spirit    Tra   i  n  i    t  tl     Ti    I       I 
lean  Go<tpel  Apoloqtt  <•     Hin    I  at 
Homo  and  Abhotts  Phi    hi    (»   ai    I 
work.  The  Gospel  t  i  th     \  *  let     ith  C 
&  Co)  has  a  most  \aluahle  sUi  1\  ft  l 
Robinson  s   5'     /  tl       (_!       I  i 


^FfT 


Ooster/ee  and  in  last  nan     1 
as  in  treatises  on  Chritl         J 
Chnsh    fairbairnsSdidr 
imnns  CommunioiluithOud  i 

MartLU  ui 

lint,  aSKell 

11  er  s  Imnqo 

h  111      Herr 

1        /.L.Lect  IV 

T    B 

KiLP  \TEICK 

CHARGER.— The  utensil  referred  to  (Mt  U*-", 
Mk  6-=^-  =»)  was  a  flat  tray  or  salver  (Gr.  iriva^)  with 
a  narrow  rim,  and  was  usually  made  of  brass,  the 
surface  being  plain  or  ornamented  with  engraved 
or  embossed  designs,  and  varying  in  size  from  one 
to  three  feet  in  diameter.  At  an  Oriental  ine.al 
the  tray  is  laid  upon  a  low  stool,  tlie  dishes  Ijeing 
placed  upon  it,  while  those  who  partake  sit  or 
recline  around  it.  The  tray  is  also  carried  around 
by  an  attendant  when  presenting  wine  or  drinks 
composed  of  water  flavoured  with  lemon,  rose,  or 
violet  essences. 

In  the  two  passages  that  describe  Salome's  re- 
quest at  Herod's  birthday  feast,  the  charger  is 
mentioned  as  an  essential  part  of  the  stipulation. 


In  both  narratives  the  demand  is  for  the  head  of 
John  the  Baptist  in  a  charger.  In  e.xplanation  of 
tliis  it  has  to  be  noted  that  the  daughter  of  Hero- 
dias  liad  demeaned  herself  to  play  tlie  jjart  of  a  hired 
Oriental  dancer,  with  the  usual  accompaniments 
of  paint  and  jewellery,  loose  and  showy  costume, 
and  gestures  of  indelicate  suggestion.  The  appear- 
ance tiiid  daiiciii.L;  of  llic  yoiiTi.n  princi'ss  had  capti- 
vatcil  Ihc  t^iii-is  alic,-id\-"c'\liilattilr.l  \i\  Ow  royal 
bamin.'l,  .'it.^l  iHv|ir,iv,l  ihriit  (<i  .-ipiilait.!  anything 
clever  .and  aud.iei.jtis  ftoiii  the  same  prfsuii:  The 
king  entered  into  the  .spirit  of  the  occasion,  and 
treating  her  as  a  paid  performer,  ottered  her  for 
her  services  anything  slie  might  desire.  And  so 
when  she  requested  that  the  head  of  John  the 
Baptist  miglil  !"•  Mne.l  nji  to  her  on  one  of  the 
trays  from  wliirli  tlie  un^  -I-  were  being  regaled,  the 
unfeeling  jest  iiii|ileil  iliai  ihi.s  would  be  to  her  both 
her  professional  leu  unU  Iter  portion  of  tlie  feast. 

It  was  John  the  Baptist's  last  testimony  against 
the  artificial  and  insincere  spirit  of  the  age.  When 
such  a  crime  could  be  so  lightly  committed,  the 
day  of  the  Lord  upon  the  nation  could  not  be 
far  oti'.  Afterwards,  when  Herod  addressed  his 
questions  to  Christ,  it  was  to  find  Him  absolutely 
silent  (Lk  23').  The  atrophy  of  moral  feeling  may 
be  gradual,  and  be  relieved  by  intervals  of  wrestling 
and  regret,  but  at  last  unwillingness  to  feel  becomes 
inability  to  feel. 

A  touch  of  witty  caricature  or  grotesque  ex- 
aggeration has  often  since  then  given  pass  and 
plausibility  to  something  essentially  wrong  and 
in  itself  repulsive.  When  society  is  made  selfisli 
and  artificial  by  luxury  and  the  love  of  pleasure, 
it  will  keep  its  oaths  of  personal  vanity  although 
the  gratification  should  stifle  the  voice  of  sincerity 
and  truth.  G.  M.  Mackie. 

CHICKENS.— See  Animals,  p.  U\ 

CHIEF   PRIESTS  (dpx'fpers).  —  In    the   Gospels 

apxiepeOs  projierly  denotes  the  individual  who  for 

the  time  being  held   the   ottice  of   Jewish   high 

priest,  and  when  the^xoul  o<(Uis  m  its  singular 

foim,  '  high  priest'  is  the  almost  in\  aiiable  rendei- 

m     It  rorines  thiou^hmit  the  >«  I,  both  in  AV 

1    I  \    (iti  I  k  3    (jri  apx(f/)^ws  "Awa  kal  }s.aia<pa  IS 

It    I  111  AV  'Ann  IS  and  Caiaphas  being  the 

I      I    1 1 1    t       and  in  ItV    in  the  hi„h  priesthood 

I    \  I  II        uid  Caiaphis       In  Ac  10"  apxiepci-f,  as 

l|l     II  I 'one  Scevi,  a  lew     is  undeie  I 'duet  of 

]n     I      ill  A\  ,  '  a  (  hiet  pue-^t    in  IIV  )      lor  a 

1  I      itiiient  of  the  ottite  ot  the  apxifpeis  in 

I    t  I  111  I     I    )  of  the  use  of  the  woid  as  a 

Mil    I  I  \  IIk  authoi  of  Hebrews,  leference 

I   I      1      It       it  High  Pfiest     But  in  the 

I       1    1-^   ui  1  \  t     the  word  occuis  \eiy  fiequently 

111  tilt   plui  il   fiim  (cf     Tos    Vita,  38,  BJ  1\     ill. 

7,  9,  10,  and  ;/(s  in)     ind  on  all  such  occasions, 

both  in  AV  and  K\  ,  it  i-,  ti  mslated '  thief  puests  ' 

It  IS  these  apxtepeii,  not  the  apxiepev!  piopu,  With 

whom  we  aie  concerned  in  the  piesent  aitide 

The  jnecise  meaning  of  apx'ep"',  as  we  meet  it 
in  the  Gospels  and  Josephus,  is  not  easily  deter- 
mined. A  common  explanation  used  to  be  that 
these  'chief  priests'  were  the  heads  or  )iresidents 
of  the  twenty-four  courses  into  which  tlieJew^ish 
priesthood  was  divided  (1  Cli  24'',  2  Cli  8",  Lk  !•''•*; 
Jos.  Ajit.  VII.  xiv.  7),  or  at  least  Ihtil  the.se  heads 
of  the  priestly  courses  were  included  under  the 
term  (see,  e.g.,  the  Lexicons  of  Cremer  and  Grimni- 
Thayer,  s.v.  dpxiepeus ;  Alford  on  Mt  2'').  It  is  true 
that  some  support  for  this  view  maybe  found  in 
the  exjiiessions  'all  the  chief  (RV  'chiefs')  of  the 
priests'  (2Ch  36",  Neh  12'),  'the  chief  priests' 
(KV  '  the  diiefs  ot  the  priests,'  Ezr  10=)._  But  it  is 
noticeable,  as  Schlirer  pointed  out  ('Die  apxifpe''^ 
im  NT '  in  SK  for  1872),  that  in  the  hXX  the  word 


298 


CHILDHOOD 


CHILDHOOD 


dpxieptit  is  never  used  of  the  lieaJs  of  the  priestly 
courses,  and  that  the  nearest  approximations  to 
this  term  are  such  phrases  as  fipxcxres  tOiv  Tra.TpiS>v 
tCv  Ui>iwv(l  Ch24«),  fipx"""-"  rCip  Upiwv  (Neh  12'). 
And  most  scholars  now  take  the  view  that  the 
dpxKpeU  were  high  priests  rather  than  '  chief 
priests,'  not  leading  representatives  from  the 
general  body  of  the  priesthood,  but  members  of 
an  exclusive  high  priestly  caste.* 

As  applied  to  this  high  priestly  class,  the  word 
dpx'^P^'ii  would  seem  to  denote  primarily  the 
official  high  priest  together  ^^•ith  a  group  of  ex- 
high  priests.  For  by  NT  times  the  high  priestly 
office  had  sunk  far  from  its  former  greatness.  It 
was  no  longer  hereditary,  and  no  longer  held  for 
life.  Both  Herod  and  tlie  Roman  legates  deposed 
and  set  up  high  priests  at  their  pleasure  (Jos. 
Anf.  XX.  X.  1),  as  the  Seleucidse  appear  to  have 
done  at  an  earlier  period  (2  Mac  4^;  Jos.  Ant.  XII. 

V.  1).  Thus  there  were  usually  several  ex-high 
priests  alive  at  the  same  time,  and  these  men, 
though  deprived  of  office,  still  retained  the  title 
of  dpx'fpfis  and  still  exercised  considerable  power 
in  the  Jewish  State  (cf.  Jos.  Vita,  38,  BJ  II.  xii. 
6,  IV.  iii.  7,  9,  10,  IV.  iv.  3).  In  the  notable  case  of 
Annas,  we  even  have  an  ex-high  priest  whose 
influence  was  plainly  greater  than  that  of  the 
dpxiepei's  proper  (cf.  Lk  3-,  Jn  18"-  ",  Ac  4"). 

But  Schiirer  further  maintains  that,  in  addition 
to  the  ex-high  priests,  the  title  was  applied  to  the 
members  of  those  families  from  which  the  high 
priests  were  usually  chosen— the  yii'os  apx'cpariKdv 
of  Ac  4".  It  appears  from  a  statement  of  Josephus 
that  the  dignity  of  the  high  priesthood  was  con- 
fined to  a  few  select  families  {BJ  IV.  iii.  6) ;  and 
that  this  was  really  the  case  becomes  clear  upon 
an  examination  of  the  list  which  Schiirer  has 
compUed,  from  the  various  references  given  by  the 
Jewish  historian,  of  the  twenty-eight  holders  of  the 
office  during  the  RomanoHerodian  period  {IIJP 
II.  i.  196  ff.,  204).      Above  all,  in  one  passage  (BJ 

VI.  ii.  2)  Josephus,  after  distinguishing  the  woi  tui' 
apx^epioiv  from  the  apxifpeU  themsehes,  apparently 
combines  both  cla.sses  under  the  general  designa- 
tion of  dpxifpfis.  Schiirer  accordingly  comes  to 
the  conclusion,  which  has  been  widely  adopted, 
that  the  dpxicpeis  of  the  NT  and  Josephus  '  consist, 
in  the  first  instance,  of  the  high  priests  properly 
so  called,  i.e.  the  one  actually  in  office  and  those 
who  had  previously  been  so,  and  then  of  the  mem- 
bers of  those  privileged  families  from  which  the 
high  priests  were  taken'  {op.  cit.  ]>.  206).  These, 
then,  were  in  all  probability  the  '  chief  priests '  of 
the  EV.  They  belonged  to  the  party  of  the 
Sadducees  (Ac  5";  Jos.  Anf.  XX.  ix.  1),  and  were, 
formally  at  least,  the  leading  personages  in  the 
Sanhedrin.t  But  in  NT  times  their  influence, 
even  in  the  Sanlieilrin,  was  inferior  to  that  of  the 
scribes  and  I'li;ui-oes,  wlio  coiiimaiided  the  popu- 
lar sympathir^  a-;  the  lii-h  prie^^tly  party  did  not 
(Jos.  Ant.  XIII.  X.  6,  xvilt.  i.  4 ;  cf.  Ac  5"^-  23«f-). 

LiTKRATPRE. -Schiirer,  ffyp  ii.  i.  pp.  174-184,  195-206,  and 
'  Die  ctpziiffs  iin  NT  •  m  SK,  1872,  pp.  593-657 ;  Edersheim,  Life 
and  Times  ofJemt  the  Metsiah,  i.  p.  322  f. ;  Ewald,  BI  vii  p 
479  ff. ;  Hastinsts'  J)B,  artt.  '  Priests  and  Levitcs '  and  ■  Priest  in 
NT';  Hauck-HerzoK,  PliE\  art.  'Hoher  Priester';  Jetmsh 
Encvc  art.  '  High  Priest."  J.  Q    L,\MBERT. 

CHILDHOOD.J— i.  The  Childhood  of  Jesus.— 
In  the  Lukan  narratives  of  the  Infancy  and  Child- 
hood our  Lord  is  described  both  as  tA  iraiSlov  'ItjitoDs 


iVeif  JL  esiamem,  renaers  tcpxt'-p'-if  '  nign  pi 

has  also  been  adopted  b.v  the  editor  of  Tlie  Correcteil  Fmilisl 

Sew  Testament  (1905). 

t  When  ifx'iti'!  ore  mentioned  in  the  NT  along  witli  yfxuux- 
TE7r  and  itpt^^v-ripci^  they  almost  invariably  occupy  the  first 

t  For  the  Greek  terms  relating  to  the  period  of  childhood, 
see  following  article. 


in  His  earliest  years  (Lk  2"-  *' :  so  also  in  Mt  2 
throughout),  and  as  'IjjiroDs  6  ttois  when  twelve  years 
old.  Beyond,  however,  the  brief  stories  of  Mt  2  and 
Lk  2  we  seek  in  vain  for  any  information  having 
any  authority  whatever  concerning  the  early  years 
of  Jesus,  or,  for  that  matter,  any  part  of  His  life 
prior  to  the  Ministry.  And  what  small  fragments 
these  beautiful  stories  are  !  This  dearth  of  in- 
formation for  which  so  great  a  craving  has  been 
felt  has  repeatedly  been  remarked  on :  yet,  after 
all,  need  we  wonder  very  much  at  the  silence  of  the 
Evangelical  narratives  concerning  these  matters? 
The  early  life  of  Jesus  appears  not  to  have  come 
within  their  scope ;  for  tlie  purpose  of  the  Evan- 
gelical compilation  was  not  to  furnish  a  '  Life '  in 
the  modern  sense,  but  to  set  forth  a  gospel.  Their 
interest  in  Jesus  in  this  respect  begins  pre-emi- 
nently with  His  baptism,  as  the  simple  exordium 
of  St.  Mark's  Gospel  indicates — '  The  beginning  of 
the  gospel  of  Jesus  Christ.'  Even  in  the  case  of 
St.  Luke's  Gospel,  with  its  peculiar  stock  of  early 
narratives  in  clis.  1.  2,  the  preface  to  the  Acts 
indicates  that  its  great  concern  was  with  the 
things  that  Jesus  did  and  taught  (Ac  1').  What- 
ever may  be  our  views  as  to  the  source  and  au- 
thority of  what  is  recorded  in  Mt  1.  2,  and  whether 
we  care  to  use  the  term  '  envelope '  (see  Bacon, 
Introd.  p.  198)  or  not  in  speaking  of  this  portion 
of  the  Gospel,  it  is  clear  that  these  two  chapters 
are  something  superadded  to  the  main  body  of  the 
Synoptic  tradition  ;  and  it  is  the  same  with  Lk  1.  2. 
The  main  narrative  begins  in  the  case  of  each  of 
these  Gospels  at  ch.  3,  where  parallels  with  St. 
Mark  also  begin  to  be  furnished. 

All  that  we  have  in  the  Canonical  Gospels  con- 
cerning the  childhood  of  Jesus,  strictly  speaking, 
is  found  in  Lk  2^»-'2.  The  first  twelve  years  are 
covered  by  v.*,  whilst  v.'-  has  to  suffice  for  all  the 
remaining  years  up  to  the  commencement  of  the 
Ministry.  The  writer  has  nothin"  to  tell  save  the 
story  of  the  Visit  to  the  Temple,  and  contents 
himself  for  the  rest  with  simple  general  statements 
in  Hebraic  phraseology  that  irresistibly  reminds 
us  of  what  is  said  of  '  the  child  Samuel  '(IS  2^^-  =«). 
He  has  used  practically  the  same  formula  to  cover 
years  of  John  the  Baptist's  history  (1*").  As  for 
the  story  of  the  Visit  to  the  Temple,  there  is  that 
about  it  which  carries  conviction  that  we  have  here 
a  genuine  and  delightful  glimpse  of  our  Lord  in 
His  childhood— one  only  glimpse,  which,  however, 
suffices  to  show  us  what  manner  of  child  He  was, 
on  the  principle  of  ex  uno  discc  onincs.  It  is  to  be 
noted  that  there  is  no  hint  that  He  was  regarded 
as  a  prodigy  by  His  parents  and  the  neighbours 
with  whom  He  travelled  up  to  Jerusalem.  The 
element  of  the  merely  marvellous  is  at  a  minimum. 
The  wonder  that  does  show  itself  is  in  the  region 
of  the  spirit,  and  appears  in  the  beautiful  intelli- 
gence and  rare  spiritual  gleams  (vv.■"-^)-^vllich  the 
Boy  displayed,  astonishing  alike  to  the  Rabbis 
and  to  His  bewildered  parents. 

The  silence  and  restraint  of  the  Canonical  Gospels 
on  this  subject  are  best  appreciated  when  viewed 
against  the  background  which  the  Apocryphal 
Gospels  supply.  Perhaps  the  most  valuable  ser- 
vice that  the  latter  writings  render  is  that  com- 
parison with  them  so  strongly  brings  out  the 
intrinsic  value  and  superiority '  of  our  Canonical 
Gospels.  They  show  us  conclusively  what  men 
with  a  free  hand  could  and  would  do.  This  is 
conspicuously  the  case  with  reference  to  the  early 
years  of  Jesus.  The  extravagant  and  miraculous 
stories  told  concerning  His  infancy  and  childhood, 
taken  by  themselves,  would  suffice  to  crush  out 
the  historicity  of  Jesus  and  consign  Him  to  the 
region  of  the  mythical.  We  seek  in  vain  in  these 
AVTitings  for  anything  like  a  sober  account  of  our 
Lord's  growth  and   general   history  during   this 


CHILDHOOD 


CHILDHOOD 


299 


period :  we  hnd  nothing  bnt  a  congeries  of  grotesque 
wonder-tales  concerning  the  doings  of  the  Boy. 
His  miraculous  powers  prove  to  be  of  singular 
advantage  to  Joseph,  for  when  a  beam  or  plank 
has  been  cut  too  short  Jesus  rectifies  the  mistake 
by  merely  pulling  it  out  to  the  required  length. 
He  changes  boys  into  kids,  and  anon  restores  them 
to  their  former  condition.  He  carries  both  fire 
and  water  quite  easily  in  His  cloak.  When  play- 
ing with  other  boys  and  making  figures  of  various 
beasts  and  birds,  Jesus  makes  those  He  had  formed 
•walk  and  fly,  and  eat  and  drink.  Wonderful  works 
of  healing  are  also  ascribed  to  the  Child  ;  and  some 
of  them  take  strange  forms,  in  curious  contrast 
to  the  stories  of  the  works  of  Jesus  found  in  our 
Gospels.  E.fi.  Simon  the  Cananaean  as  a  boy  is 
nigh  to  death  through  having  been  bitten  by  a 
serpent.  Jesus  makes  the  serpent  itself  come  and 
suck  out  all  the  poison  from  the  wound  ;  then  He 
curses  it,  and  immediately  the  creature  bursts 
asunder.  Tlie  cure  of  demoniacs,  of  lepers,  of  the 
blind  and  maimed  and  sick,  and  the  raising  of  the 
dead,  are  all  ascribed  to  the  Child  Jesus,  and 
always  with  more  or  less  grotesqueness  of  cir- 
cumstance. Strangest  thing  of  all,  a  whole  series 
of  vindictive  and  destructive  miracles  are  given 
which  offer  the  most  flagrant  contrast  to  all  that 
we  know  of  our  Lord,  and  wliich,  if  true,  would 
have  made  Him  a  veritable  terror  to  all  with  whom 
He  came  into  contact.  Boys  who  thwart  Him  in 
play  are  immediately  struck  dead:  others  wlio 
take  action  against  Him  are  blinded.  It  is  true 
the  mischief  is  usually  repaired  by  Him  in  re- 
sponse to  earnest  entreaty ;  but  the  vengeful 
malevolence  is  conspicuous  throughout.  In  the 
stories,  again,  relating  to  His  early  education, 
Jesus  is  represented  as  being  nn  enfant  terrible 
to  more  than  one  master  to  whom  He  was  sent 
to  learn  His  letters.  But  a  comparison  of  the 
story  of  the  Visit  to  the  Temple,  as  told  in  the 
Arabic  Gospel  of  the  Itifanq/  and  other  such  writ- 
ings, with  the  narrative  as  we  have  it  in  Lk  2, 
serves  as  well  as  possible  to  .show  the  untrust- 
worthy character  of  the  Apocryphal  Gospels, 
whatever  curious  interest  may  attach  to  them. 
For  the  simple  and  natural  statement  of  St.  Luke, 
that  'all  that  heard  Him  were  amazed  at  His 
understanding  and  His  answers,'  we  find  Him 
represented  as  not  only  getting  the  upper  hand 
of  the  great  Rabbis  in  relation  to  the  knowledge 
of  the  Torah,  but  as  giving  profound  instruction 
to  philosophers  in  astronomy,  natural  science,  and 
medicine,  explaining  to  them  'physics  and  meta- 
physics, hyperphysics  and  hypophysics,'  and  many 
other  things. 

The  Apocryphal  writings  which,  in  particular,  ahound  in 
these  tales  of  the  childhood  of  Jesus,  are  the  Gospel  of  pseildo- 
Matthew,  the  Protevatwelium  of  Jam^s,  the  Arabic  Gospel  of 
the  Infancy,  and  the  Gospel  of  Thomas  in  its  various  forms. 
The  Thomas  Gospel  is  mainly  answerable  for  the  stories  of 
vindictive  miracles  referred  to  above.  The  Syriao  form  of  this 
Gospel  is  entitled  in  the  MS  (6th  cent.)  the  'Boyhood  of  Our 
Lord  Jesus." 

With  every  allowance  for  whatever  scanty 
touches  of  beauty  and  elements  of  value  may 
here  and  there  be  found,  a  survey  of  this  Apocry- 
phal literature  gives  fresh  force  to  Edersheim's 
remark  (Jesus  the  ATessiah,  bk.  ii.  ch.  10) :  '  We 
dread  gathering  around  our  thoughts  of  Him  the 
artificial  flowers  of  legend.'  In  default,  however, 
of  authentic  records  there  remains  one  expedient 
for  meeting  the  deep  silence  of  our  Gospels  which 
modern  writers  who  essay  the  construction  of  a 
'  Life  of  Christ '  are  full  ready  to  make  use  of. 
All  available  knowledge  regarding  the  times  in 
\vhich  our  Lord  lived,  the  surroundings  and  condi- 
tions in  which  He  grew  up,  and  the  manner  in 
which  Jewish  boys  were  educated  (see  artt.  BOY- 
HOOD and  Educ.\tion),  can  be  emi>loyed  to  help 


us  to  form  a  sober  and  reverent  conception  of  Him 
in  the  days  of  His  childhood.  Perhaps,  indeed, 
.such  matters  in  their  general  treatment  enter  into 
some  Lives  of  Christ  even  to  prolixity.  It  is  a 
true  instinct,  however,  which  bids  us  set  aside 
early  and  mediaeval  legends,  with  all  their  naivete, 
and  frame  a  conception  of  Him  as  living  the  life 
of  a  normal  Jewish  boy  of  His  own  time  and 
station,  distinguished  only  by  a  rare  personal 
charm  of  goodness  and  grace.  The  unfolding  of 
a  human  life  in  growing  beauty  and  nobility  of 
character  more  truly  proclaims  '  God  with  us '  than 
could  such  miraculous  accompaniments  as  would 
tend  to  make  the  Child  an  object  of  mingled 
wonder  and  fear.  Painters  who  have  represented 
the  Holy  Child  in  simple  human  grace,  without 
tlie  encircling  nimbus,  have  not  on  that  account 
fallen  behind  others  in  suggesting  His  true 
Divinity. 

'  He  came  to  Nazareth,  where  He  had  been 
brought  up '  (Lk  4'")  —  how  much  that  phrase 
covers !  The  great  factors  entering  into  His 
education  were  home  training,  the  synagogue 
both  as  a  place  of  worship  and  as  a  school,  the 
many  -  coloured  life  of  the  district  in  which  He 
spent  His  youth,  the  natural  features  of  the 
locality,  and  all  the  scenery  round  about  Nazareth, 
so  full  of  beauty  and  stirring  historical  associa- 
tions. Later  on,  after  He  had  attained  '  years  of 
discretion,'  in  our  phrase,  becoming  a  bar-mizvah 
(nim  13  =  son  of  commandment  =  one  responsible  for 
compliance  with  legal  requirements),  as  the  Jews 
express  it.  His  repeated  visits  to  Jerusalem  to 
attend  the  feasts  would  also  count  for  much.  If 
we  are  to  understand  the  visit  mentioned  in  Lk  2 
to  be  the  first  that  Jesus  paid  to  Jerusalem  (though 
the  narrative  does  not  explicitly  say  it  was),  we 
may  take  it  that  at  the  age  of  twelve  (Lk  2")  He 
was  regarded  as  having  reached  that  important 
stage  in  a  boy's  life,  although  the  usual  age  for 
such  recognition  was  somewhat  later. 

Jesus  belonged  to  a  people  unsurpassed  for  the 
care  bestowed  upon  the  education  of  children. 
His  earliest  teacher  would  be  His  mother ;  and 
we  cannot  doubt  that  of  all  Jewish  mothers  none 
could  excel  Mary  (' blessed  among  women')  in  all 
such  work.  Among  other  things  He  would  prob- 
ably learn  from  her  the  Shema  (Dt  6'')— that  sacred 
formula  which  attends  the  devout  Jew_  from  his 
earliest  years  to  his  latest  moment.  This  is  quite 
consistent  with  the  fact  that  education  was  one  of 
the  things  for  which  the  father  was  held  respon- 
sible as  regards  his  son.  At  an  early  age  Jesus 
would  be  sent  to  school  at  the  synagogue,  there  to 
be  taught  by  the  hazzan,  or  schoolmaster,  to  read 
and  recite  the  Jewisli  Scriptures.  The  instruction 
given  did  not  go  beyond  this,  with  writing  and 
possibly  a  little  arithmetic  as  additional  and  sub- 
ordinate subjects.  It  was  in  a  supreme  degree  a 
religious  education,  designed  to  fit  children  for  the 
practical  duties  of  life.  The  education  of  Jesus 
was  just  that  of  the  great  mass  of  the  people : 
unlike  Saul  of  Tarsus,  no  beth  ha-MidrCtsh,  or 
college  of  Scribes,  received  Him  as  a  student 
{'Whence  hath  this  man  these  things?'  Mk  6= ; 
cf.  Jn  7'^).  As  a  schoolboy,  too,  Jesus  would  have 
His  recreations.  School  hours  were  not  excessive, 
amounting  to  no  more  than  four  or  five  hours 
a  day.  Truly  Jewish  games,  however,  were  but 
few.  They  had  little  or  nutliinu"  corresponding  to 
our  school  sports;  and  the  o\ilt  of  athletics  was 
looked  upon  as  sometliin-  nlini.  Little  children, 
like  those  of  other  times  and  varcs,  found  amuse- 
ment in  playing  at  doing  as  grown-up  people  did  : 
and  the  words  of  our  Lord  in  Mt  ll'"-  "■  very  likely 
contain  not  merely  the  result  of  His  observation, 
bnt  a  memory  of  His  own  childhood.  For  the  rest, 
as  a  boy  He  would  find  abundant  means  of   re- 


300 


CHILDHOOD 


CHILDHOOD 


creation  in  rambling  round  about  Nazareth  amidst 
tlie  sights  and  sounds  of  nature.  The  open-air 
atmosphere  of  His  preaching,  with  its  abundant 
allusions  to  the  life  of  the  held  and  to  the  varied 
aspects  of  nature,  betokens  an  earlj'-formed  and 
loving  familiarity. 

On  His  visit  to  Nazareth,  described  in  Lk  4, '  He 
entered,  as  His  custom  was,  into  the  synagogue  on 
the  Sabbath  day '  (v.'^) :  and  that  custom,  we  may 
be  sure,  was  a  growth  from  His  earliest  years. 
Children,  in  those  days,  were  admitted  to  religious 
celebrations  in  the  Temple  at  an  early  age.  A 
boy's  religious  life  was  considered  to  begin  at  the 
age  of  four.      Both  boys  and  girls  accompanied 


their  mothers  to  the  synagogue  when  very  young. 
And  Sabbath  by  Sabbath,  throughout  His  early 
peaceful  years,  Jesus  was  found  in  the  synagogue 


with  His  mother  Mary  ;  and  a  benediction  and  a 
joy  it  must  have  been  to  all  the  frequenters  of  that 
synagogue  at  Nazareth  to  look  upon  the  fair, 
winsome,  earnest  face  of  the  Child.  When  we 
read,  as  we  do,  of  boys  playing  in  the  synagogue 
during  worship  and  causing  annoj'ance  to  their 
elders,  it  interests  us  to  recognize  the  eounteri)art 
of  a  familiar  experience  in  modern  times;  but 
Avitliovit  taking  anything  from  the  naturalness  of 
our  Lord's  boyhood,  it  is  impossible  to  think  of 
Him  in  any  such  association.  We  can  only  think 
of  Him  as  showing  forth  a  spirit  of  wondrous 
grace,  a  growing  responsiveness  towards  the 
prayers  and  praises,  becoming  more  and  more 
familiar  and  dear,  a  deepening  love  of  the  noble 
words  in  which  He  heard  the  laws,  the  hopes  and 
the  faith  of  Israel  set  forth.  The  whole  unfolding 
of  His  life  in  all  the  religious  discipline  and  edu- 
cation of  the  home,  the  -synagogue  and  the  whole 
round  of  the  Jewish  year  of  feasts  and  fasts,  must 
have  been  beautiful  to  those  to  whose  care  He  was 
entrusted.  When  a  boy  became  har-niizvah,  there 
was  a  lightening  of  the  paternal  responsibility 
regarding  him,  and  a  sense  of  relief  surely  found 
expression  in  the  benediction  pronounced  by  the 
father  on  that  occasion — '  Blessetl  be  He  for  having 
freed  me  from  this  punishment.'  There  could 
have  been  no  room  for  such  an  utterance  when 
Jesus  left  His  mother's  side,  henceforth  to  take 
His  place  among  the  men  in  the  congregation. 

Our  most  profitable  reflections  on  the  childhood 
of  our  Lord,  however,  are  best  summarized  in  the 
saying  of  Irenieus,  to  the  effect  that,  in  com- 
pletely participating  in  the  conditions  of  human 
life.  He  became  a  child  for  the  sake  of  children, 
and  by  His  own  experience  of  childhood  He  has 
sanctified  it  {.mh:  Hun:  ii.  xxii.  4). 

ii.  Ciiii.iiiKM.ii  IN  Tin;  ieaching  of  Jesus.— 
It  w;i^  'iiil\  to  \n-  cxii.iird  that  Jesus  would 
exhiliit  .ui  1111411. ■-(lunalilr  love  for  children  ;  audit 
is  in  coiui'li-t^-  utcoid  \\it|.  the  whole  tenor  of  His 
teaching  that  He  should  specially  emphasize  the 
importance  and  value  of  the  child.  The  well- 
known  words  of  Juvenal,  '  Maxima  debetur  puero 
reverentia'  (Sat.  xiv.  47),  gain  their  profoundest 
significance  when  the  attitude  assumed  by  our 
Lord  towards  children  is  considered.  The  story 
of  Jairus'  daughter  (t6  BvyirpLdv  fiou  is  tlie  father's 


appealing  exprooinn  in  Ml 
tenderness  in  .lc-iis  tnw.MiN  ( 
healing  was  m.u-Iii  ;  He  <omI 
appeal  as,  'Sii-.  i  umr  ili.w  n  11 
/iov)  die'  (Jii  t^'i  ;  :iu'[  il  w 
difference  to  tin'  \\'ii-  oi  .-i  Hii 

T/M0l/,Mk7^)«lllrl,   m.Hl.'ilun 

to  yield  to  the  •chIumi  ir-  .. 
woman.  Sucdi  (■usiw,  we  m; 
representative  of  many  more. 
Himself  had  a  singular  att 
admits  of  no  doubt.  His  ti 
Jerusalem  and  the  Temple  c 


cial 


only  time  when  He  had  child-friends  to  greet  and 
attend  Him  (Mt  2V'').  It  was  no  new  thin"  for 
parents  to  seek  a  Rabbi's  blessing  for  their  children, 
but  it  was  a  unique  charm  in  Jesus  which  led 
mothers  —  surely  mothers  were  at  least  among 
'  those  that  brought  them ' — to  desire  His  blessing 
for  their  little  ones  (Mk  lO''"'"  and  parallels). 
St.  Mark's  special  touch  in  describing  how  He 
welcomed  them  (ivayKaXuTd/ji.ei'oi,  v.^')  is  entirely 
true  to  the  spirit  of  the  Master.  His  benediction 
was  as  remote  from  the  perfunctory  as  it  could  be. 

The  teaching  of  Jesus  concerning  children  and 
childhood  gathers  round  two  occasions— when  He 
blessed  the  little  ones  (as  above),  and  when  He 
rebuked  the  ambition  of  the  disciples,  —  see  Mk 
9»-^,  Lk  Q'"'-^,  and  Mt  18'"",  with  notable  amplifi- 
cations. 

(a)  In  the  former  instance  the  untimely  inter- 
position of  the  disciples  leads  to  the  saying,  '  Of 
such  is  the  kingdom  of  God.'  In  Mark  and  Luke 
this  is  followed  by  a  further  solemn  saying— 
'  Whosoever  shall  not  receive  the  kingdom  of  God 
as  a  little  child,  he  shall  in  no  wise  enter  therein.' 
Though  Matthew  lacks  this  in  this  connexion,  he 
has  a  corresponding  utterance  in  18'-  ■*.  Wendt 
(Lehre  Jesu,  Eng.  tr.  ii.  pp.  49,  50)  considers  that 
all  the  stress  of  these  words  lies  on  the  receptivity 
dem.uuUd  liy  J(s\is  on  the  part  of  those  who  would 
entt'v  the  k'ln-duiiL.  'Not  the  reception  of  the 
kiniiiliiiii  of  (lod  at  a  childlike  age  (sic),  but  in  a 
childlike  chanirfrr,  He  declares  to  be  the  indis- 
pensable condition  of  entering  the  kingdom  of  God ; 
and  under  this  childlike  character  He  does  not 
understand  any  virtue  of  childlike  blamelessness, 
but  only  the  receptivity  itself.  .  ,  .'  And  no 
doubt  in  the  second  of  these  .sayings  the  manner 
in  which  men  are  to  receive  the  kingdom  is  set 
forth  with  emphasis.  Those  who  find  themselves 
for  one  reason  and  another  outside  the  kingdom, 
can  obtain  admission  thereinto  only  when  the 
otter  of  its  gracious  blessings  is  received,  not  with 
'  blamelessness '  indeed  (which  is  out  of  the  question 
here),  but,  with  the  simple  trust,  the  un pretentious- 
ness, the  earnest  desire  and  the  reality  which  are 
characteristic  of  a  child.  But  there  is  something 
more  than  this  in  the  words  of  Jesus.  The  first 
saying  has  hardly  its  due  weight  given  to  it  if  we 
stop  here.  '  Of  such  is  the  kingdom  of  God.'  Tlie 
kingdom  belongs  to  such.  And  we  cannot  accept 
'  the  childlike'  as  the  complete  equivalent  of  '  such.' 
Wendt,  it  is  true,  acknowledges  children  to  be 
'  susceptible  subjects  for  the  preaching  of  the  king- 
dom of  God '  (as  above,  p.  50) ;  but  are  we  to  under- 
stand that  they  are  to  be  invited  to  receive  it  as 
having  been  outside  from  t/mjirst  ?  We  verge  here 
on  controversies  that  have  loomed  large  on  the 
troubled  way  of  the  diversified  development  of 
Christian  thought  and  opinion.  But  the  saying 
of  Jesus,  as  it  stands,  surely  implies  that  the  king- 
dom comprises  not  only  the  cliildlike,  but  little 
children  qua  children  as  well.  They  are  its  in- 
heritors. They  may  forfeit  its  blessings  subse- 
quently by  their  own  act,  or  others  may  ue  speci- 
ally responsible  for  their  failing  to  retain  their 
inheritance  (Mt  18") ;  but  that  is  another  matter. 
As  Bengel  says  (on  Mt  19"),  'toioOtos  notat  sub- 
stantiam  cum  qualitate.'  And  the  relation  of  our 
Lord  to  humanity  at  large  makes  this  but  the 
natural  interpretation  of  His  words.  '  If  they  who 
lire  like  little  children  belong  to  the  kingdom  of 
lii'aviii,  why  should  we  for  a  niument  doubt  that 
the  little  children  themselves  belong  to  the  king- 
dom ■.''     So  .Morison,  wlio  is  alto^'cthev  adniirable 

lilili-s'  disiiute  (•oiicciinii-  i,ir.cdriirr  ,  \l  k  '.)■■'■■" and 
j.aivilleU)  furtliLT  briii-sonl  lli.- .jiialil  i.-s  of  child- 
liood  which  were  most  piecioiis  in  His  eyes,  and 


CHILDEEN 


CHILDREN 


301 


the  value  and  importance  He  attached  to  little 
children  themselves.  The  little  one  He  called  to 
Him  and  so  lovingly  embraced  (St.  Mark's  special 
touch  again),  was  I'leld  up  to  the  disciples  as  an 
example  and  guide  to  greatness.  To  be  great  in 
the  kingdom  of  heaven  (Mt  18'-  •■)  it  was  necessary 
to  have  a  spirit  of  simplicity  and  humility  such  as 
was  seen  in  the  child  in  whom  self-regard  and  self- 
seeking  had  as  yet  no  place.  It  is  one  of  our 
Lord's  great  paradoxes.  To  be  childlike  is  to  be 
truly  great.  The  same  truth  is  emphasized  in  a 
saying  which  in  varying  form  is  found  twice  over 
in  each  of  the  Synoptics— the  man  who  wishes  to 
be  first  shall  be  last ;  the  man  willing  to  be  least 
shall  be  great.  We  here  learn  further  how  Jesus 
regards  little  children  as  in  a  real  sense  belonging 
to  Him.  To  receive  a  little  child  as  belonging  to 
Him,  bestowinji  loving  care  upon  it,  is  a  high 
service  rendered  to  Him  and  to  God  by  whom  He 
was  sent.  In  Jit  10^""^-  the  importance  attached 
to  such  service  is  strikingly  expressed  in  the  pro- 
gressive series  in  which  Jesus  promises  a  reward 
to  those  who  thus  receive  His  messengers— a  pro- 
phet, a  good  man,  '  one  of  tliese  little  ones.'  It  is 
most  natural  to  understand  that  in  using  such  an 
expression  as  the  last  our  Lord  actually  referred 
to  some  children  who  weie  hard  by  when  He  was 
speaking.  And  as  here,  so  in  the  more  extended 
sayings  in  Mt  18,  wliatever  the  reference  to  child- 
like and  lowly -minded  disciples  in  general,  the 
words  of  Jesus  must  apply  to  children  themselves. 
The  terrible  warning  of  Mt  IS"  applies  to  those 
who  hinder  such  little  ones  in  relation  to  the  king- 
dom. Though  it  is  not  expressly  so  stated,  what 
is  said  about  receiving  children  suggests  that 
such  a  wrong  done  to  any  child  is  as  a  wrong  done 
to  Christ  Himself.  The  preciousness  of  a  little 
child  in  the  sight  of  'our  Father  in  heaven'  is 
emphatically  asserted  by  Jesus  in  Mt  IS'""".  The 
children's  angels,  He  says,  are  ever  in  the  presence 
of  God  (v.").  Whether  this  remarkable  saying  be 
understood  as  referring  to  guardian  angels  or  to 
representative  angels  (in  some  way  corresponding 
to  the  Zoroastriau /j-«iv(.s7((.v  or  'spiritual  counter- 
parts'—see  art.  by  Dr.  J.  H.  M.pultun  in  Journal 
of  Thcol.  Studies,  July  I'.Hi-J),  it  clc'irly  declares 
that  no  little  one  is  an  object  of  inditierence  with 
God,  no  wrong  inflicted  upon  a  child  can  escape  His 
notice.  The  closing  saying  of  this  group  (w.^^-hj 
embodies  the  illustration  of  the  one  stray  sheep, 
found  in  another  connexion  in  Lk  15,  and  teaches 
that,  whatever  ruin  may  befall  '  one  of  these  little 
ones,'  it  is  not  a  matter  of  the  Divine  pleasure  and 
ordination  that  even  one  such  should  be  '  cast  as 
rubbish  to  the  void.'  See  also  art.  Childken, 
which  is  written  from  a  difi'erent  standpoint. 

Literature.— The  various  Lives  of  Christ  (Edersheini,  Keim, 
Didon,  Farrar,  Andrews,  D,  Smith,  etc  ) ;  artt.  Boyhood,  and 
Education  ;  cf .  art,  '  Education '  in  Hastings'  DB  and  the 
Encyc,  Biblica;  Brough,  Childhood  and  Youth  of  our  Lord; 
G.  A.  Coe,  Education  in  RHiijion  and  Morals,  1904  ;  S.  B. 
Haslett,  Pedaftogical  Bible  School,  1905  ;  R  Rainy,  Sojottrning 
with  God  (1902),  p.  161 ;  Donehoo,  Apocryphal  and  Lecjendary 
Life  of  Christ ;  Ramsay,  Education  of  Christ ;  Schiirer,  HJP  ; 
Wendt,  Teaching  of  Jesus,  ii.  48  £f. ;  G.  B.  Stevens,  Theology  of 

the  NT,  pp.  81, 93.  J.  s.  Clemens. 

CHILDREN.— In  the  regeneration  of  society 
which  has  been  wrought  by  the  forces  brought 
into  the  world  by  Christianity,  the  family,  of 
course,  has  had  its  part.  Or  rather,  since  to  Jesus 
also  the  family  was  the  social  unit,  this  regenera- 
tion began  with  the  family  and  spread  outwards 
from  it.  The  emphasis  laid  by  our  Lord  on  the 
institution  of  the  family  deserves  even  to  be  called 
extraordinary.  Not  only  did  He  habitually  ex- 
hibit sympathy  with  domestic  life  in  all  its  phases, 
and  particularly  reverence  for  women  and  tender- 
ness for  children  :  and  not  only  did  He  adopt  the 
vocabulary  of  the  family  to  express  the  relations 


subsisting  between  Himself  and  His  followers,  and 
even  as  His  choicest  vehicle  for  conveying  to  them 
a  vitalizing  conception  of  their  relations  to  God, 
'from  whom,'  as  that  one  of  His  servants  who 
best  represents  His  teaching  in  this  aspect  of  it 
declares,  '  every  family  in  heaven  and  on  earth  is 
named'  (Eph  3");  but,  deserting  His  customary 
reserve  in  dealing  with  social  institutions,  in  the 
case  of  this  one  alone  did  He  advance  beyond 
general  principles  to  specific  legislation.  (Cf.  F.  G. 
Peabody,  Jesus  Christ  and  the  Social  Question, 
p.  145  ft'.). 

This  specific  legislation  does  not  directly  con- 
cern children.  It  is  true  that  childhood  owes  as 
much  to  the  gospel  as  womanhood  itself  (cf.  e.g. 
Uhlhorn,  Conflict  of  Christianity/  with  Heathenism, 
p.  182).  And  the  causes  of  the  great  revolution 
which  was  wrought  by  the  gospel  in  the  condition 
of  children  and  the  estimate  placed  on  childhood, 
are  undoubtedly  rooted  in  the  life  and  teaching  of 
our  Lord,  and  are  spread  on  the  pages  of  the 
Gospels.  But  we  shall  search  in  vain  in  the  re- 
corded teaching  of  Jesus  for  either  direct  legisla- 
tion, or  even  enunciation  of  general  principles 
regulating  the  relations  of  jiarents  and  children,  or 
establishing  the  position  of  children  in  the  social 
organism.  He  has  left  us  no  commandments,  no 
declarations,  not  even  exhortations  on  the  subject. 
He  simply  moves  onward  in  His  course,  touching 
in  life,  act,  word  on  the  domestic  relations  that 
were  prevalent  about  Him,  and  elevating  and 
glorifying  everything  that  He  touched.  Thus  He 
has  handed  down  to  us  a  new  ideal  of  the  family, 
and  lifted  to  a  new  plane  our  whole  conception  of 
childhood.  (Cf.  Shailer  Mathews,  The  Social 
Teachim  of  Jesus,  p.  101  ft'. ). 

The  domestic  economy  which  forms  the  back- 
ground of  Jesus'  life,  and  is  assumed  in  all  His 
dealings  with  children  and  in  all  His  allusions 
to  them  and  their  ways,  is,  of  course,  the  whole- 
some home-life  which  hail  grown  up  in  Israel 
under  the  moulding  influence  of  the  revelation  of 
the  Old  Covenant.  Its  basis  was  the  passionately 
affectionate  Semitic  nature,  and  no  doubt  certain 
modifications  had  come  to  it  from  contact  with 
other  civilizations;  but  its  form  was  determined 
by  the  tutelage  whicli  Jehovah  had  granted  His 
people.  (Cf.  Edersheim,  Sketches  of  Jeivish  Social 
Life  in  the  Days  of  Christ,  chs.  vi.-ix.,  and  The 
Life  and  limes  of  Jesus  the  Messiti/i,  bk.  n.  chs. 
ix.  and  x. ;  also  Hastings'  DB,  articles  '  Child,' 
'  Family.'  For  later  Jewish  child-life  see  Schechter, 
Studies  in  Judaism,  xii.  ;  and,  above  all,  L.  Low, 
Die  Lebensalter.  Cf.  also  Floss,  Das  Kind  iji 
Branch  und  Sitte  der  Volkcr). 

The  tender  love  which  the  Hebrew  parent  bore  to  his  child, 
and  the  absorbing  interest  with  which  he  watched  and  guided 
its  development,  doubtless  find  partial  expression  in  the  multi- 
plicity of  designations  by  which  the  several  stages  of  childhood 
are  marked  in  that  pictorial  language.  Besides  the  general 
terms  for  '  son '  (ben)  and  '  d.iughter '  (bath),  eight  of  these  have 
been  noted  tracing  the  child  from  its  birth  to  its  maturity : 
yeled  (fern,  yalddh),  the  'birthling';  yf'tneh,  the  'suckling'; 
'6lel,  the  suckling  of  a  larger  growth,  perhaps  the  *  worrier' ; 
jjdmul,  the  'weanling';  ta^jh,  the  'toddler';  'elem,  the  'fat 
one';  naVir,  the 'free  one';  i«/i./r,  the  'ripe  one.'  (So  Ham- 
642,  after  whom  Edersheim,  Upp.  eltt.  p.  1031. 


burger,  K 

This  sei 
matched  c 


ite  v.). 


unong  which  that 


'^tui;   trukKxl,  or  pooTttii,  or  i.r.Tc,  ,    ui    .»        ,  .    (y-<,3« ; 

fiiipix,e>  or  //.!7pxi;  'tsxnirxos;  ♦>£o!.,«,.  Ni-..ilfss  t"  saj,  the 
sequences  of  such  lists  cannot  be  taken  too  strictly.  And 
equally  needless  to  say,  they  by  no  means  e.\haust  the  s>  nonymy. 


*  Those  terms  which  ( 


•  in  NT  are  marked  by  .an  asterisk. 


302 


CHILDREN 


Ale.vion's  list,   for  example,  does    not  contain    ev 

terms  of  this  class  that  occur  in  the  Gospel  narra 

series  aflforded  by  them  would  run  something  like  this ;  ^pi<pc;, 

virM,  tela?»»,  <ratin,  ^luiifm,  t«7j,  tiMtiirxes,  to  which  would 

need  to  be  added  the  distinctively  feminine  Buyaratov,  xopiamv 

It  is  not  difficult  to  recognize  the  general  distinctions  between 
these  terms.  (For  the  detailed  synonj-my  see  especially 
Schmidt,  i).  Synonymik  rf.  griech.  Sprachej  c.  69,  for  the  terms 
belonging  distinctively  to  childhood ;  c.  152  for  those  describ- 
ing the  stages  between  childhood  and  maturity ;  and  c.  47  for 
some  terms  denoting  youthfulness ;  cf.  Thayer,  Lex.  XT,  s.r. 
T«r;)-  Ti«>o»  (with  Its  diminutive  ructm,  Jn  1333  only)  is,  like 
vli!  and  6uy«Tr(i,  used  in  the  Gospels  only  of  relationship, 
literal  or  figurative,  never  of  age  (for  the  synonymy  of  t£«>», 
viii,  and  Ta7;,  see  an  interesting  discussion  by  Hohne  in 
Luthardt's  ZKWL,  18S2,  p.  57  ff.  ;  and  ct.  Cremer  and  Thayer, 
s.fv.).  For  the  rest,  I3pi^i  is  here,  as  in  post-Homeric  Greek  in 
general,  distinctively  the  'newborn  baby '  (1  P  2-),  the  'child 
in  the  arms'  (in  Homer  it  is  the  unborn  child,  the  embryo,  as 
also  often  in  later  Greek,  e.g.  Lk  l"-*"):  and  .«t/o,-  and  e^x«ri.y 
(the  NT  substitute  for  6r,keurfj.K,  e>i).a,aj.oO  range  \rith  it  as 
descriptive  of  early  infancy.  IhuiiUv  is  equally  distinctively  the 
'  little  child,'  although  its  application  is  somewhat  broad  :  now 
it  is  entirely  synonMnous  with  ^piftf  (Lk  159.66  etc.,  Mt  2S  etc.. 
Lk  IS'S.  16),  and  again  it  designates  a  little  maiden  of  twelve 
years  of  age  (Mk  S-iI. *^).  Its  companion  diminutive  -raiS«^u»  is 
ordinarily  employed  of  a  somewhat  older  'lad,'  and  may  very 
well  be  so  used  in  the  only  passage  where  it  occurs  in  the 
Gospels  (Jn  69).  The  simple  Ta7t  has  a  range  sufficiently  wide 
to  cover  all  these  stages,  from  infancy  itself  (e.g.  Mt  -^^)  up  to 
youthful  maturity  (Hippocrates  says  up  to  the  age  of  '21).  It 
designates,  says  Schmidt  (p.  429),  'the  child  of  all  ages  up  to 
complete  young  manhood ;  -raiSa^fov,  the  child  up  to  bis  first 
school  years;  -ra/5iov,  exclusively  the  little  child.'  Hixfirxcs  is 
the  appropriate  designation  of  every  stage  of  youthful  maturity 
from  so  early  an  age  that  ftupccxicv  or  Ta7i  might  be  inter- 
changed with  it  up  to  so  late  a  period — about  40— that  it  is  on 
the  point  of  giving  way  to  old  age.  Of  the  distinctively 
feminine  terms  that  occur  in  the  Gospels,  ^xp6ivoi  is  a  term  of 
condition  rather  than  of  age,  and  occurs  only  in  connexion  with 
Marv  (lit  123,  Lk  127)  and  in  the  parable  of  the  Ten  Virgins  (Sit 
251. '■ "),  and  T«/W«>i  is  emploved  onlv  in  the  secondary  sense 
of  '  maid-servant '  (Mt  2669  and  parallels,  Lk  12«).  The  diminu- 
tives Suyd-zpiev  and  xepue-tov,  though  capable  of  emploj'raent  with 
quite  a  wide  range,  yet  naturally  imply  tenderness  of  years 
where  tenderness  of  affection  is  not  obviouslv  conveyed  by  them 
(e.g.  Mk  725,  Mt  925  [).  Thus  it  appears  that  in  the  narratives  of 
the  Gospels  there  is  brought  into  contact  with  our  Lord  every 
stage  of  childhood  and  youth  from  the  cradle  to  maturity— the 
babv  on  its  mother's  bosom  (Lk  ISlo),  the  little  child,  boy  (Mk 
92J)'and  girl  (Mk  725)  alike,  children  of  a  larger  growth  (Jq  427, 
Lk  S51),  and  the  maturing  youth  (Lk  7",  Mt  i9-0). . 


What  Jesus  did  for  children,  we  may  perhaps 
sum  up  as  follows.  He  illustrated  the  ideal  of 
childhood  in  His  own  life  as  a  child.  He  mani- 
fested the  tenderness  of  His  affection  for  children 
by  conferring  blessings  upon  them  in  every  sta.^e 
of  their  development  as  He  was  occasionally 
brought  into  contact  with  them.  He  asserted  for 
children  a  recognized  place  in  His  kingdom,  and 
dealt  faithfully  and  lovingly  Avith  each  aj,'e  as  it 
presented  itself  to  Him  in  the  course  of  His  work. 
He  chose  the  condition  of  childhood  as  a  type  of 
the  fundamental  character  of  the  recipients  of  the 
kingdom  of  God.  He  adopted  the  relation  of 
ehUdhood  as  the  most  s-ivid  earthly  image  of  the 
relation  of  God's  people  to  Him  who  was  not 
ashamed  to  be  called  their  Father  which  is  in 
heaven,  and  thus  reflected  back  upon  this  relation 
a  glory  by  which  it  has  been  transhgured  ever  since. 

The  history  of  the  ideal  childhood  which  Jesus 
Himself  lived  on  the  earth  is  set  down  for  us  in  the 
opening  chapters  of  Matthew  and  Luke,  especially 
of  Luke,  whose  distinction  among  the  Evangelists 
is  that  he  has  given  us  a  narrative  founded  on 
an  investigation  which  'traced  the  course  of  all 
things  accurately  from  the  first'  (Lk  P).  Accord- 
ingly, not  only  does  he  with  careful  exactitude 
record  the  performance  by  our  Lord's  parents  in 
His  behalf,  during  His  infancy,  of  'all  things  that 
were  according  to  the  law  of  the  Lord'  (Lk  2^») ; 
but  he  marks  for  us  the  stages  of  our  Lord's  growth 
in  His  progress  to  man's  estate,  and  thus  brings 
Him  before  us  successively  as  'baby'  (2'"  jSp^^os), 
'child'  (2^"  TraiSlof),  and  'boy'  ('2"  xaFs),  until  in 
His  glorious  young-manhood,  when  He  was  about 
30  years  of  age.  He  at  last  manifested  Himself  to  j 
Israel  {3^).    The  second  chapter  of  Luke  is  thus  in  I 


etlect  an  express  history  of  the  development  of 
Jesus ;  and  sums  up  in  two  comprehensive  verses 
His  entire  growth  from  childhood  to  boyhood  and 
from  boyhood  to  manhood  (2*-  ^-).  The  language  of 
these  succinct  descriptions  is  charged  with  sugges- 
tions that  this  was  an  extraordinary  child,  whose 
development  was  an  extraordinary  development. 
Attention  is  called  alike  to  His  physical,  intellec- 
tual, and  spiritual  progress ;  and  of  each  it  is  sug- 
fested  that  it  was  constant,  rapid,  and  remarkable, 
'hose  who  looked  upon  Him  in  the  cradle  would 
perceive  that  even  beyond  the  infant  Moses  ( Heb. 
112^)  this  was  '  a  goodly  child ' ;  and  day  by  day  as 
He  grew  and  waxed  strong.  He  became  more  and 
more  filled  not  only  with  knowledge  ^ut  with 
wisdom,  and  not  only  with  wisdom  but  with  grace, 
and  so  steadily  advanced  '  not  alone  in  power  and 
knowledge,  but  by  year  and  hour  in  reverence  and 
in  charity.'  Man  and  God  alike  looked  upon  His 
growing  powers  and  developing  character  with  ever 
increasing  favour.  The  promise  of  the  goodly  child 
passed  without  jar  or  break  into  the  fruitage  of 
the  perfect  man  :  and  those  who  gazed  on  the  Dabe 
with  admiration  (o'''-^-^),  could  not  but  gaze  on 
the  boy  with  astonishment  (2")  and  on  the  man 
with  reverence. 

It  is  therefore  no  ordinary  human  development 
which  is  here  described  for  us.  But  it  is  none  the 
less,  or  rather  it  is  all  the  more,  a  normal  human 
development,  the  only  strictly  normal  human  de- 
velopment the  world  has  ever  seen.  This  is  the 
only  child  who  has  ever  been  bom  into  the  world 
without  the  fatal  entail  of  sin,  and  the  only  child 
who  has  ever  grosvn  to  manhood  free  from  the 
deterioration  of  sin.  This  is  how  men  ought  to 
grow  up :  how,  were  they  not  sinners,  men  would 
grow  up.  It  is  a  great  thing  for  the  world  to 
have  seen  one  such  instance.  As  an  example  it  is 
indeed  set  beyond  our  reach.  As  the  ideal  child- 
hood realized  in  life,  it  has  ever  since  stood  before 
the  world  as  an  incitement  and  inspiration  of  quite 
incalculable  power.  In  this  perfect  development 
of  Jesus  there  has  been  given  to  the  world  a  model 
for  every  age,  whose  allurement  has  revolutionized 
life.  He  did  not,  as  Iren:eus  {adv.  Hwr.  II.  xxii. 
4,  cf.  III.  xviii.  4)  reminds  us,  despise  or  evade  the 
humanity  He  had  assumed  ;  or  set  aside  in  His  own 
person  the  law  that  governs  it :  on  the  contrary. 
He  sanctified  evei'y  age  in  turn  by  Himself  living 
His  perfect  life  in  its  conditions.  '  He  came  to 
save  aU  by  means  of  Himself,'  continues  Irenajus, 
'all,  I  say,  who  through  Him  are  born  again  unto 
God,— infants  and  children,  and  boys,  and  youths. 
.  .  .  He  therefore  passed  through  every  age, 
becoming  an  infant  for  infants,  thus  sanctifying 
infants ;  a  child  for  children,  thus  sanctifying 
those  who  are  of  this  age,  being  at  the  same  time 
made  to  them  an  example  of  piety,  righteousness, 
and  submission  ;  a  youth  for  youths,  becoming  an 
example  to  youths,  and  thus  sanctifying  them  for 
the  Lord.'  ...  On  the  few  details  given  us  of  the 
childhood  of  our  Lord  see  artt.  BovHOOD  of  Jesu.s 
and  Childhood. 

During  tlie  course  of  His  life  begun  with  this 
ideal   childhood,   Jesus    came    into   contact  Vfith 
every  stage  of  youthful  development,  and  mani- 
fested the  tenderness  of  His  feelin"  for  each  and 
His  power  and  ^villingness  to  confer  blessings  upon 
all.     A  lurid  light  is  thrown  upon  the  nature  of 
the  world  and  the  character  of  the  times  into 
which  He  was  bom  by  the  slaughter  of  the  Inno- 
cents, which  marked  His  advent  (.Mt  ■2'"-'").     But 
one  function  which  the  record  of  this  incident  per- 
forms is  to  serve  as  a  black  background  upon  which 
His  own  beneficence  to  childhood  may  be  thrown 
Jlothers  instinctix'ely  brought  their  babies  to 
for  benediction  ;  and  when  they  did  so.  He 
not  content  until  He  had  taken  them  in  His 


CHILDREN 


arms  (Mk  10'«,  c£.  Q'").  His  allusions  to  children 
in  His  teaching  reflect  the  closeness  of  His  ob- 
servation of  them.  He  celebrates  the  delight  of 
the  mother  m   her  baby,  obliterating  even   the 

Eangs  of  birth  {Jn  16-') ;  the  fostering  love  of  the 
ither  who  cuddles  his  children  up  with  him  in 
bed  (Lk  11') ;  the  parental  affection  which  listens 
eagerly  to  the  child's  every  request,  and  knows 
how  to  grant  it  only  things  that  are  good  (Mt  7°, 
Lk  11"' '').  He  notes  the  wayward  impulses  of 
children  at  play  (Mt  IV^  Lk  7^=).  He  feels  the 
weight  of  woe  that  is  added  to  calamities  in  which 
the  children  also  are  involved  (Mt  18^) ;  and  places 
among  the  sujiremest  tests  of  loyalty  to  Him,  the 

£  reference  of  Him  even  to  one's  children  (Mt  19-", 
,k  W  182"  .  cf.  Mk  10=3). 

A  number  of  His  miracles,  worked  for  the  benefit 
of  the  young,  illustrate  His  compassion  for  their 
sufferings  and  ills.  The  nobleman's  son  at  Caper- 
naum, whose  healing  Jesus  wrought  as  a  second 
sign  when  He  came  out  of  Judsea  into  Galilee  (Jn 
446-«4)^  was  at  least  a  '  child  '  (irair,  4'>'),  for  so  the 
servants  call  him  in  cold  sobriety ;  and  probably 
was  a  '  little  child  '  (4*^),  although  it  is,  of  course, 
possible  that  on  the  lips  of  the  father  the  diminu- 
tive expresses  tenderness  of  affection  rather  than 
of  age.  The  possessed  '  boy '  (Trarj,  Mt  17'",  Lk  9*=) 
— the  only  son  of  his  father  (Lk  9^*) — whom  Jesus 
healed  as  He  came  down  from  the  Mount  of  Trans- 
figuration (Mt  17'^-2i,  Mk  9»-2',  Lk9^'-«),  and  whose 
affliction  had  dated  from  his  earliest  infancy  {^k 
vaiSidffei',  Mk  9='),  was  more  certainly  distinctively 
a  '  little  child '  (Mk  9-*).  Jairus'  '  little  daughter ' 
{evydTpiov,  Mk  5'-^)— also  an  only  one— whom  Jesus 
raised  from  the  dead  in  such  dramatic  circum- 
stances (Mt  918-2',  Mk  52=-«,  Lk  8"-^)  and  who  is 
spoken  of  in  the  narratives  indifferently  as  '  child  ' 
(irars,  Lk  8='- "),  '  little  child  '  {ira^Sio,',  Mk  5=»-  <"•  •") 
and  '  maiden  '  or  '  girl '  {Kopdaiov,  Mt  9=^-  ",  Mk  5*' ; 
TaXtBd,  Mk  5^'),  we  know  to  have  been  about  twelve 
years  old  (Lk  S''^).  We  are  not  told  the  exact  age 
of  the  'little  daughter'  {evydTpiov,  Mk  7^— here 
probably  the  word  is  the  diminutive  of  age,  not 
of  aff'ection,  as  it  occurs  in  the  narrative,  not  the 
conversation)  of  the  Syrophceniciau  woman  ;  but 
we  note  that  St.  Mark  calls  her  also  distinctively 
a  '  little  child '  (TraiSiW,  7»»).  The  only  son  of  the 
widow  of  Nain  (Lk  7"-"),  the  desolate  state  of 
whose  bereft  mother  roused  so  deeply  the  pity  of 
our  Lord  1(7"),  is  addressed  indeed  as  a  'young 
man '  {vcavliTKc,  7"),  a  term  so  broatl  that  it  need 
imply  no  more  than  that  he  was  in  liis  prime  ;  but 
the  suggestion  of  the  narrative  certainly  seems  to 
be  that  he  was  in  his  youthful  prime  (7").  Thus 
is  rounded  out  a  series  of  miracles  in  which  our 
Lord  shows  His  pity  to  the  growing  youth  of  every 
stage  of  development. 

When  on  that  great  day  on  the  shores  of  Gen- 
nesaret  Jesus  appeared  to  His  disciples  and  gave 
to  His  repentant  Apostle  His  last  exhortation.  He 
commanded  him  not  merely  '  Feed  ray  sheep,'  but 
also  '  Feed  my  lambs.'  Though  the  language, 
doubtless,  rather  expresses  His  love  for  His  flock 
than  distributes  it  into  constituent  classes,  we 
may  be  permitted  to  see  in  it  also  the  richness  of 
our  Lord's  sympathy  for  the  literal  lambs  of  His 
fold.  Certainly  He  provided  in  His  kingdom  a 
place  for  every  a^e.  and  met  the  spiritual  needs  of 
each.  Touchmg  illustrations  of  this  are  offered  us 
at  the  two  end  stages  of  youthful  development 
(Lk  18'=  ^p^0os ;  Mt  ir-"  yia'j'taKos),  in  the  blessing 
of  little  children  and  the  probing  of  the  rich  young 
ruler's  heart,  which  are  brought  into  immediate 
contiguity  in  all  three  of  the  Synoptics  as  if  they 
were  intended  to  be  taken  together  as  a  picture  of 
our  Lord's  dealing  with  youth  as  a  whole,  perhaps 
even  as  together  illustrating  the  great  truth  that 
in  the  kingdom  of  God  the  question  is  not  of  the 


hour  of  entrance, — first  or  eleventh,— but  of  tlie  will 
of  the  Master,  who  doeth  what  He  will  witli  His 
own  (Mt  20'=). 

What  is  particularly  to  be  borne  in  mind  with 
respect  to  the  blessing  of  the  little  children  (Mt 
19'3-'=,  Mk  10"-'«,  Lk  18'=-"),  is  that  these  'little 
children '  (TraiSio,  Mt  19''-  '^  Mk  lO'^-  '*,  Lk  18'«) 
were  distinctively  '  babies '  {^pitpv,  Lk  18'=).  There- 
fore they  needed  to  be  received  by  Jesus  '  in  his 
arms '  (Mk  10'") ;  and  only  from  this  circumstance, 
indeed,  can  all  the  details  of  the  narrative  be 
understood.  It  is  from  this,  for  example,  that 
the  interference  of  the  disciples,  which  called  out 
the  Master's  rebuke,  '  Let  tlie  little  children  come 
to  me  ;  forbid  them  not,'  receives  its  explanation. 
The  disciples,  to  speak  briefly,  had  misapprehended 
the  nature  of  the  Lord's  mission :  they  were  re- 
garding Him  fundamentally  as  a  teacher  sent  from 
God,  who  also  healed  the  afflicted  ;  and  they  con- 
ceived it  to  be  their  duty  in  the  overstrain  to  which 
He  was  subjected  to  protect  Him  from  needless 
drafts  on  His  time  and  strength  by  the  intrusion 
of  those  needing  no  healing  and  incapable  of  in- 
struction. It  seemed  to  them  out  of  the  question 
that  'even  the  babies'  (Lk  18'=)  should  be  thrust 
upon  His  jaded  attention.  They  should  have 
known  better  ;  and  Jesus  was  indignant  that  they 
did  not  know  better  (Mk  10'^),  and  took  this  oc- 
casion to  manifest  Himself  as  the  Saviour  of  infants 
also.  Taking  them  in  His  arms  and  fervently 
invoking  a  blessing  upon  tliem  (Mk  10'"  KaTevXdyei), 
He  not  only  asserted  for  them  a  part  in  His  mission, 
but  even  constituted  them  the  type  of  the  cliildren 
Let  the  little  children 


ingd( 
Hef 


unto  me,'  He  says  ;  'forbid  them  not:  for  of  such 
is  the  kingdom  of  God.'  And  then  proceeding 
Avith  the  solemn  'Verily' — 'Verily  I  say  unto  you, 
Whosoever  shall  not  receive  the  kingdom  of  God 
as  a  little  child,  shall  in  no  wise  enter  therein' 
(Mk  lO"-  '=,  Lk  18'«- "  ;  cf.  Mt  ig'-"). 

Wherein  this  childlikeness,  in  which  alone  the 
kingdom  of  God  can  be  received,  consists,  lies  on 
the  face  of  the  narrative.  Certainly  not  in  the 
innocence  of  childhood,  as  if  the  purpose  were  to 
announce  that  only  the  specially  innocent  can 
enter  the  kingdom  of  God.  Our  Lord  was  accus- 
tomed to  declare,  on  the  contrary,  that  He  came  to 
call  not  the  righteous  but  sinners,  to  seek  and 
save  that  which  was  lost  ;  and  the  contradiction 
with  the  lesson  of  the  publican  and  the  Pharisee 
praying  in  the  temple,  which  immediately  pre- 
cedes this  narrative  in  Luke,  would  be  too  glaring. 
But  neither  can  it  consist  in  the  humility  of 
childhood,  if,  indeed,  we  can  venture  to  speak  of 
the  most  egoistic  age  of  human  life  as  charactei- 
istically  humble  ;  nor  yet  in  its  simplicity,  its  art- 
lessness,  ingenuousness,  directness,  as  beautiful  as 
these  qualities  are,  and  as  highly  esteemed  as  they 
certainly  must  be  in  the  kingdom  of  God.  We  can- 
not even  suppose  it  to  consist  in  the  trustfulness 
of  childhood,  although  we  assuredly  come  much 
nearer  to  it  in  this,  and  no  image  of  the  children 
of  the  kingdom  could  be  truer  than  that  afforded 
by  the  infant  lying  trustingly  upon  its  mother's 
breast.  But,  in  truth,  it  is  in  no  disposition  of 
mind,  but  rather  in  a  condition  of  nature,  that  we 
niust  seek  the  characterizing  peculiarity  of  these 
infants  whom  Jesus  sets  fortli  as  types  of  the 
children  of  the  kingdom.  Infants  of  days  (fipirpv, 
Lk  18'=)  have  no  cliaracteristic  disposition  of  mind  ; 
and  we  must  accordingly  leave  the  subjective 
sphere  and  find  the  childlikeness  which  Jesus 
presents  as  the  condition  of  the  reception  (not 
acquisition)  of  the  kingdom  in  an  objective  state ; 
in  a  word,  in  the  helplessness,  or,  if  you  will,  the 
absolute  dependence  of  infancy.  What  our  Lord 
would  seem  to  say,  therefore,  when  He  declares, 
'  Of  such  is  the  kingdom  of  God,'  is,  briefly,  that 


304 


CHILDREN 


CHILDREN 


those  of  whom  the  kingdom  of  God  is  made  up  are, 
relatively  to  it,  as  helplessly  dependent  as  babies 
are  in  their  mothers'  arms.  The  children  of  the 
kingdom  enter  it  as  children  enter  the  world, 
stripped  and  naked, — infants,  for  whom  all  must 
be  done,  not  who  are  capable  of  doing. 

There  was  another  occasion  on  which  even  more 
formally  Jesus  proclaimed  to  His  disciples  child- 
likeness  as  the  essential  characteristic  of  the  chil- 
dren of  the  kingdom  (Mt  W-',  Mk  9^",  Lk  9«"). 
The  disciples  had  been  disputing  among  them- 
selves who  of  them  should  be  greatest.  Jesus, 
calling  to  Him  a  little  child,  placed  it  in  their 
midst  and  said,  '  Verily  I  say  unto  you.  Except  ye 
turn  and  become  as  little  children,  ye  shall  in  no 
wise  enter  into  the  kingdom  of  heaven.'  There 
could  not  have  been  uttered  a  more  pointed  intima- 
tion that  the  kingdom  of  heaven  is  given,  not 
aeguired  ;  that  men  receive  it,  not  deserve  it.  As 
children  enter  the  world,  so  men  enter  the  king- 
dom, with  no  contributions  in  their  hands.  We 
are  not,  indeed,  told  in  this  narrative,  in  express 
words,  that  the  child  thus  made  the  type  of  the 
children  of  God  was  a '  newborn  baby  '  (/3pe(/ios)  :  it 
is  called  only  a  '  little  child '  {iraidiov).  But  its  ex- 
treme infancy  is  implied  :  Jesus  took  it  in  His  arms 
(Mk  9^'')  when  He  presented  it  to  the  observation 
of  His  disciples ;  and  we  must  accordingly  think 
of  it  as  a  baby  in  a  baby's  helplessness  and  de- 
pendence. 

We  do,  to  be  sure,  find  in  our  Lord's  further 
words  a  requisition  of  humility  (Mt  18^) :  '  Who- 
soever then  shall  humble  himself  like  this  little 
child,  tlie  same  is  the  greatest  in  the  kingdom  of 
heaven.'  To  become  like  a  little  child  may  cer- 
tainly involve  humility  in  one  who  is  not  a  child  ; 
and  it  is  very  comprehensible  that  our  Lord  should 
therefore  tell  those  whom  He  was  exhorting  to 
approach  the  kingdom  of  heaven  like  little  chil- 
dren, that  they  could  do  so  only  by  humbling 
themselves.  But  this  is  not  the  same  as  declaring 
humility  to  be  the  characteristic  virtue  of  child- 
hood, or  as  intimating  that  humility  may  ground 
a  claim  upon  the  kingdom  of  heaven.  Wliat 
our  Lord  seems  to  tell  His  followers  is  that  they 
cannot  enter  the  kingdom  He  came  to  found  ex- 
cept they  turn  and  become  like  little  children  ;  and 
that  they  can  become  like  little  children  only  by 
humbling  themselves ;  and  that  tlierefore  when 
they  were  quarrelling  about  their  relative  greatness, 
they  were  far  from  the  disposition  which  belongs 
to  children  of  the  kingdom.  Humility  seems  to 
be  represented,  in  a  word,  not  as  the  characterizing 
quality  of  childhood  or  of  childlikeuess,  but  rather 
as  the  attitude  of  heart  in  which  alone  we  can 
realize  in  our  consciousness  that  quality  which 
characterizes  childhood.  That  quality  is  conceived 
here  also  as  helplessness,  while  childlikeness  con- 
sists in  the  reproduction  in  the  consciousness  of 
the  objective  state  of  utter  dependence  on  God 
which  IS  the  real  condition  of  every  sinner. 

From  the  point  of  view  thus  revealed  in  object- 
lesson  and  discourse,  it  was  natural  for  our  Lord 
to  speak  of  His  disciples  as  '  babes.'  '  I  thank 
thee,  O  Father,  Lord  of  heaven  and  eartli,'  He 
cries  on  one  momentous  occasion  (Mt  11-^,  Lk  10-'), 
'  that  tliou  didst  hide  these  things  from  the  wise 
and  understanding,  and  didst  reveal  them  unto 
babes'  (yTjirloit,  the  implication  of  which  is  precisely 
weakness  and  neediness).  And  then  He  proceeds 
with  a  great  declaration  the  very  point  of  wliich  is 
to  contrast  His  sovereign  power  with  the  neediness 
of  those  whom  He  calls  to  His  service.  SimUarly 
as  the  end  approached  and  the  children  {waiSes)  in 
the  temple  were  greeting  Him  with  hosannas.  He 
met  the  indignant  challenge  of  the  Jews  with  the 
words  of  the  Psalmist:  'Yea,  did  ye  never  read, 
Uut  of   the  mouth  of  babes  and  sucklings  thou 


hast  ordained  praise  ?  '  (Mt  21'*).  The  meaning  is 
that  these  childish  hosannas  were  typical  of  the 
praises  risin»  from  the  hearts  of  those  childlike 
ones  from  whose  helplessness  (because  they  owed 
much  to  Him)  His  true  praise  should  spring. 

From  the  more  general  view-point  of  atiection 
our  Lord  derived  the  terms  by  which  He  expressed 
His  personal  relations  to  His  followers,  and  a  large 
part  of  the  vocabulary  of  His  proclamation  of  the 
kingdom  of  God  is  drawn  from  the  relationships  of 
the  family.  His  disciples  are  His  '  children  '  (riKva, 
ilk  10-^),  or  with  increasing  tenderness  of  expres- 
sion, His '  little  children '  {reKpia,  Jn  13»),  His 
'  babies'  {iraiSia,  Jn  2P),  and  perhaps  with  even  more 
tenderness  still,  simply  His  'little  ones'  {ol /uKpoi, 
Mt  W^  etc.,  but  see  art.  Little  Ones).  Similarly 
the  great  King,  whose  kingdom  He  came  to  estab- 
lish, is  the  Father  of  His  people  ;  and  they  may 
therefore  be  free  from  all  fear,  because,  naturally, 
it  is  tlie  good  pleasure  of  their  Father  to  give  the 
kingdom  to  them  (Lk  12^-).  Every  turn  of  exines- 
sion  is  freely  employed  to  carry  home  to  the  hearts 
of  His  followers  the  sense  of  the  Fatherly  love  for 
them  by  Him  who  is  their  King  indeed,  but  also 
their    Father  which    is   in    heaven   (Mt  516- «.« 

(Jl.  4.  6.  8.  9.  1...  15.  18  632  7II   1020.  29  13B  23»,    Mk    11=«,   Lk 

636  1113  1-230. 32_  Jn20>');  and  they  accordingly  His 
sons  (MtS'--^,  LkSO**),  His  children  (Jn  P"  IV^), 
and  therefore  heirs  of  His  kingdom.  In  this  re- 
presentation, which  finds  its  most  striking  expres- 
sion in  such  parables  as  that  of  the  Prodigal  Son 
(Lk  15'"'),  it  is,  to  be  sure,  rather  the  relationship 
of  father  and  child  that  is  emphasized  than  the 
tenderness  of  the  age  of  childhood.  Neither  is  it 
a  novelty  introduced  by  our  Lord  ;  it  finds  its 
root  in  Old  Testament  usage.  But  it  is  so 
cliar.irttTi^tic  (if  our  Lord's  teaching  that  it  may 
faiily  lie  -aiJ  that  the  family  was  to  His  mind  the 
nraii'-t  "f  huiiiaii  analogues  to  the  order  that  ob- 
tains in  thi'  kmydom  of  God,  and  the  picture 
which  He  draws  of  the  relations  that  exist  be- 
tween God  and  His  people  is  largely  only  a  '  trans- 
figuration of  the  family.' 

Such  an  employment  of  the  relationships  in  the 
family  to  figure  forth  those  that  exist  between  God 
and  His  people  could  not  fail  to  react  on  the  con- 
ceptions which  men  formed  of  the  family  relation- 
ships themselves.  By  His  constant  emphasis  on 
the  Fatherhood  of  God,  and  by  His  employment  of 
the  helplessness  of  infancy  and  the  dependence  of 
childhood  as  the  most  vivid  emblems  provided  by 
human  society  to  image  the  dependence  of  God  s 
people  on  His  loving  protection  and  fostering  care, 
our  Lord  has  thrown  a  halo  over  the  condition  of 
childhood  which  has  communicated  to  it  an  emo- 
tional \alue  and  a  |)vc(ii)n~ness,  in  the  strictest 
si'ii-r,  new  in  thr  w.'iM.  In  tlie  ancient  world, 
cliiMnii.  tliimjh  liy  tln'ii  innocence  eliciting  the 
alii'clion,  and  liy  tlii/ir  weakni'ss  appealin"  to  the 
sympathy,  of  their  elders,  were  thought  or  chiefly 
as  types  of  immaturity  and  unripeness.  The  Chris- 
tian world,  taught  by  its  Lord,  reverences  their 
very  helplessness  as  the  emblem  of  its  own  condi- 
tion in  the  presence  of  God,  and  recoOTizes  in  their 
dependence  an  appeal  to  its  unselfish  devotion, 
that  it  may  be  an  imitator  of  God.  This  salutary 
respect  and  consideration  for  childhood  has  no 
doubt  been  exaggerated  at  times  to  something 
very  mucli  like  worship  of  the  childlike  ;  and  this 
tendency  has  been  powerfully  fostered  by  the  preva- 
lence in  sections  of  Christendom,  since  the  14th 
cent.,  of  an  actual  cult  of  the  infant  Saviour  (cf.  E. 
Martinengo-Carresco  in  The  Contemporary  Review, 
Ixxvii.  117,  etc.),  and  the  early  rise  and  immense 
development  in  the  same  quarters  of  a  cult  of  the 
Madonna,  to  the  tender  sentiments  underlying 
wliich  all  the  resources  of  the  most  passionate 
devotion,  the  most  elevated  literature,  and  the  most 


CHILDREN  OF  GOD 


CHILDREN"  OF  GOD 


perfect  art  have  been  invoked  to  give  widespread 
influence  (see  especially  Zockler,  art.  Maria  die 
Mutter  des  Herrn  in  PRE^,  xii.  309,  etc.,  who 
gives  an  extensive  classified  bibliography.  Cf.  in 
general  H.  E.  Scudder,  Childhood  in.  Art,  also  in 
The  Atlantic  Monthly,  Iv.  and  Ivi.).  Such  ex- 
aggerations cannot,  however,  obscure  the  main 
fact  that  it  is  only  from  Jesus  that  the  world  has 
learned  properly  to  appreciate  and  wholesomely  to 
deal  with  childhood  and  all  that  childhood  stands 


CHILDREN  OF  GOD.— The  teaching  of  Jesus 
Christ  abo\it  the  children  of  God  cannot  be  under- 
stood apart  from  His  teaching  about  the  Father- 
hood of  God  :  indeed,  it  is  from  the  latter  stand- 
point that  it  must  be  approached.  In  such  an 
approach  the  main  positions  seem  to  be  as  follows  :— 

(1)  Jesus  asserts  absolutely  the  fatherly  nature 
of  God.  His  use  of  the  name  '  Father  implies 
that  the  fatherly  nature  is  eternal  in  God.  God 
does  not  become  Father  ;  He  is  '  the  Father.'  All 
knowledge  of  God  is  deficient  which  does  not 
'know  the  Father'  (Mt  11=',  Jn  146").  This 
fatherly  nature  of  God  necessarily  manifests  itself 
in  all  God's  dealings.  He  cannot  be  other  than 
Father,  and  '  he  maketh  his  sun  to  rise  on  the  evil 
and  the  good,  and  sendeth  rain  on  the  just  and  the 
unjust' (Mt5''5). 

(2)  This  eternal  Fatherhood  in  God  is  comple- 
mented by  an  eternal  Sonsliip  in  God.  Jesus  used 
habitually  the  name  'My  Father.'  It  implied  a 
special  relationship  between  the  Father  and  Him- 
self, which  is  summed  up  by  John,  '  The  only  be- 
gotten Son  which  is  in  the  bosom  of  the  Father ' 
(Jn  I'S). 

(3)  "The  fatherly  heart  of  God  does  not  rest 
satisfied  in  the  eternal  Sonship  in  God.  He  desires 
the  response  of  filial  love  from  all  who  are  capable 
of  giving  it  (cf.  esp.  Lk  IS'-^^,  Jn  i^).  Jesus 
assumed  that  the  filial  attitude  is  expected  from 
all  men.  This  is  implied  in  His  method  of  teach- 
ing. The  Divine  Fatherhood  is  woven  into  its 
texture.  Therefore  the  picture  of  God  the  Father 
is  offered  to  everybody,  with  its  necessary  appeal 
to  the  hearer  to  enjoy  the  filial  relationship.  Since 
the  outlook  of  the  gospel  is  universal,  the  sonship 
may  be  universal.  Even  'publicans  and  sinners' 
may  enjoy  the  filial  feeling. 

(4)  But  Jesus  taught  plainly  that  this  filial  atti- 
tude is  not  general  amongst  men.  He  told  the 
Jews  that  they  were  of  their  father  the  <levil  (Jn 
8^''),  and  distinguished  '  the  good  seed,  the  sons  of 
the  kingdom,'  from  '  the  tares,  the  sons  of  the  evil 
one'  (IVft  1338) .  ^f.  also  Mt  23"-». 

(5)  Certain  conditions  are  laid  down  as  essen- 
tial to  the  enjoyment  of  the  filial  relationship  to 
God.  These  conditions  are  usually  described  by 
Jesus  in  terms  of  character.  The  children  of  God 
are  '  peacemakers,'  are  those  who  love  their 
enemies,  and  who  do  the  will  of  the  Father  (cf. 
Mt  5S-"  12™):  they  'do  good  and  lend,  never 
despairing,'  and  are  '  merciful '  (Lk  &•''•  ^').  But  in 
the  discourses  in  John's  Gospel,  Jesus  Himself  is 
offered  as  a  touchstone  for  tlie  filial  relationship 
(cf.  Jn  S"-").  In  this  connexion  the  demand  for 
the  new  birth  must  be  noticed.  Jesus  connected 
entrance  into  that  Kingdom  which  He  came  to 
found,  with  being  'born  anew'  (Jn  3');  He  de- 
manded that  His  disciples  should  be  converted  and 
become  as  little  children  if  they  would  enter  the 
Kingdom  (Mt  18^  ||).  It  may  fairly  be  said  that  in 
the  mind  of  Jesus  there  is  an  intimate  connexion 
between  these  two  modes  of  teaching.  The  moral 
character  befitting  the  children  of  God  is  secured 
by  the  new  birth  'of  water  and  of  the  Spirit '  (Jn  3'). 

From  these  propositions  we  can  gather  the  teach- 
VOL.  I. — 2o 


ing  of   J, 


about  the  children   of  God.     Tin 


relationship  is  apprehended  by  Jesus  ethically, 
not  physically.  To  identify  Divine  sonship  with 
human  birth  brings  the  relationship  down  to  the 
physical  sphere.  Jesus  kept  it  in  the  religious 
sphere,  'fhe  Fatherhood  of  God  is  an  ethical 
attitude  eternally  present  in  the  Godhead  ;  man's 
Divine  sonship  is  his  ethical  response  to  this 
Divine  Fatherhood.  God  is  ever  waiting  to  wel- 
come men  as  sons,  and  to  give  them  the  position 
of  sons  at  home  (Lk  15).  But  their  assumption  of 
this  filial  position  depends  upon  their  adoption  of 
the  filial  attitude,  '  I  will  arise  and  go  to  my 
father.'  As  Wendt  says,  'God  does  not  become 
the  Father,  but  is  the  heavenly  Father,  even  of 
those  who  become  His  sons.  .  .  .  Man  is  a  true  son 
of  God  .  .  .  from  the  fact  of  his  comporting  him- 
self as  a  son  of  God '  (Teaching  of  Jesus,  i.  p.  193). 

This  religious  attitude  which  betokens  Divine 
sonship,  includes  four  elements,  (n)  Children  of 
God  love  their  heavenly  Feather.  Love  is  the 
golden  bond  in  all  home  relationships.  Jesus 
declares  it  to  be  the  sovereign  law  in  the  true 
relationship  between  man  and  God.  F'or  He 
taught  that  the  greatest  commandment  is  to  love 
the  Lord  our  God  with  all  our  heart  and  soul  and 
mind  and  strength  (Mt  22",  Lk  10=').  When 
claiming  to  have  come  forth  from  God,  He  said  to 
the  Jews  :  '  If  God  were  your  father  ye  would  love 
me,'  where  love  of  Himself  is  identified  with  love 
of  the  Father  whom  He  revealed. 

(6)  Children  of  God  obey  their  heavenly  Father. 
This  is  implied  in  all  Jesus'  exhortations  to  men 
to  do  the  will  of  God.  It  is  clearly  stated  in  these 
sentences :  '  Whosoever  shall  do  the  will  of  my 
Father  which  is  in  heaven,  the  same  is  my  brother, 
and  sister,  and  mother '  (Mt  12™) ;  '  Not  every  one 
that  saith  unto  me.  Lord,  Lord,  shall  enter  into  the 
kingdom  of  heaven  ;  but  he  that  doeth  the  will  of 
my  Father  which  is  in  heaven'  (Mt  7=') ;  cf.  also 
Mt  21"  24«  II. 

(c)  Children  of  God  trust  their  heavenly  Father. 
This  mark  of  Divine  sonship  is  emphasized  in  the 
Sermon  on  the  Mount.  Jesus  exhorts  His  disciples 
not  to  be  as  the  Gentiles,  but  to  rely  upon  their 
heavenly  F'ather's  knowledge  of  their  needs  and 
His  desire  to  help  thera.  Anxiety  must  be  banished 
from  the  hearts  of  God's  children,  who  are  fed  and 
clothed  by  their  Father  (Mt  e'^**,  Lk  S-'^-^% 

(d)  Children  of  God  try  to  be  like  their  heavenly 
Father.  They  are  to  be  perfect,  even  as  their 
heavenly  Father  is  perfect  (Mt  5^').  This  must  not 
be  interpreted,  as  it  often  is,  'Be  as  perfect  as 
your  Father.'  Its  exhortation  is  to  take  the  fatherly 
character  of  God  as  the  standard  of  perfection. 
'  Be  ye  perfect,  even  as  He  is  perfect.'  'The  Father 
loves  all  men  :  let  His  children  do  likewise.  By 
thus  taking  the  fatherly  character  of  God  as  the 
standard,  His.children  will  fulfil  the  second  great 
law,  'Thou  shalt  love  thy  neighbour  as  thyself 
(Mt  22^").  The  natural  man  adojjts  other  ideals  of 
perfection  ;  but  the  children  of  God  try  to  be  like 
their  Father. 

Jesus  gave  immortal  expression  to  the  desires 
characteristic  of  the  children  of  God,  in  'the 
Lord's  Prayer.'  That  prayer  is  put  into  the  lips 
of  those  who  can  say  'Our  Father  which  art  in 
heaven.'  It  includes  all  the  marks  of  God's  chil- 
dren that  have  been  found  elsewhere  in  the  teach- 
ing of  Jesus.  The  hallowing  of  the  Father's  name 
implies  the  sanctitication  of  His  children  after  His 
likeness.  The  prayer  '  Thy  will  be  done '  lifts  us 
to  the  loftiest  level  of  obedience.  Only  those  who 
trust  God  can  pray  'Give  us  our  daily  bread,' 
and  can  limit  their  desires  for  material  good  to 
such  humble  bounds.  The  prayer  breathes  through- 
out the  spirit  of  love  :  that  spirit  is  the  warp  into 
which  the  weft  of  the  petition  is  woven. 


CHILDREN  OF  GOD 


CHIL1)REN  OF  GOD 


The  blessings  enjoyed  by  tlie  children  of  God 
are  all  the  good  that  Jesus  Christ  came  on  earth  to 
otfer  to  men.  This  good  is  summed  up  in  the 
phrase  '  the  kingdom  of  God '  or  '  the  kingdom  of 
heaven.'  All  the  children  of  God  are  members  of 
that  Kingdom ;  cf.  Mt  13^  IS^'".  The  Kingdom  is 
God's  prottered  blessing  :  '  It  is  your  Father's  good 
pleasure  to  give  you  tlie  kingdom '  (Lk  12^=).  The 
Kingdom  includes  the  blessings  of  forgiveness 
(Mt6"|!);  of  guardian  care  (Mt  B^^) ;  of  the  Holy 
Spirit  (Lk  11") ;  of  eternal  life  (Jn  5-'-*  17") ;  and 
finally,  the  enjoyment  of  the  Father's  house  (Mt 
2o'^  Jn  14=-  =). 

This  identification  of  the  blessings  enjoyed  by 
the  children  of  God  with  the  good  of  the  Kingdom, 
leads  naturally  to  the  statement  that  the  ethical 
attitude  characteristic  of  the  children  of  God  can 
be  secured  by  faith  in  Jesus  Christ.  He  not  only 
spoke  of  Himself  as  the  Son  of  God  ;  He  also 
declared  that  His  revelation  of  Sonship  made  son- 
shi[i  ])ossi1jle  to  men.  Considerable  importance 
.nttaches  to  the  solemn  words  in  Mt  11-'  'All 
things  have  been  delivered  unto  me  of  my  Father  : 
and  no  one  knoweth  the  Son,  save  the  Father ; 
neither  doth  any  know  the  Father,  save  the  Son 
and  he  to  whomsoever  the  Son  willeth  to  reveal 
him.'  They  declare  that  the  knowledge  of  the 
Father  must  be  experimental.  Only  one  who  has 
lived  as  a  son  can  know  the  Father.  Men  do  not 
know  God  primarily  as  Father.  They  think  of 
Him  as  King,  as  Judge,  as  Law-Giver ;  and  be- 
cause they  are  sinners  they  cannot  know  Him 
as  Father.     The  shadow  of  the  broken  Law 


purely  : 
falls  ac 


falls  across  God's  face,  making  it  appear  the  face 
of  a  judge,  and  falls  upon  the  attitude  of  men, 
chilling  it  into  that  of  .servants.  But  '  the  Son ' 
knows  God  as  Father.  He  has  no  fear  of  Him  as 
Judge ;  He  claims  to  be  Himself  the  King  in  the 
kingdom  of  God  (Mt  25^°) ;  He  is  conscious  that 
He  has  never  broken  God's  law.  Therefore  He  can 
know  God  as  the  Father  ;  and  He  is  able  to  reveal 
God  to  men  as  Father.  Jesus  does  tliis  by  ransom- 
ing captive  spirits  from  the  bondage  of  sin  and 
death  (Mt  20^),  by  persuading  them  to  trust  the 
fatherly  love  of  God,  and  by  strengthening  them 
to  break  away  from  the  self-life  in  favour  of  the 
life  of  surrender  (Mt  16^-"  ||). 

The  close  connexion  between  this  great  word 
and  the  gracious  invitation  whicli  follows  it  (Mt 
ll^-*),  must  not  be  overlooked.  Tliat  invitation 
shows  the  universality  of  Christ's  outlook.  The 
Son  is  willing  to  reveal  the  Father  to  all.  But  the 
connexioii  explains  the  personal  note  in  the  invita- 
tion. Jesus  does  not  say  '  Go  to  the  Father ' ;  He 
says  'Come  unto  me,  and  I  will  give  you  rest.' 
This  is  because  He  is  the  reveal  er  of  the  Father  ; 
and  the  rest  He  offers  is  rest  in  the  Fatherhood  of 
God.  The  chapter  describes  the  discouragements 
that  darkened  the  noon  of  His  ministry.  He  found 
rest  to  His  own  soul  in  the  Father  :  '  1  thank  thee, 
O  Father  .  .  .  Even  so,  Father'  (vv.=5--«).  This 
rest  He  desires  to  give  to  others.  The  only 
way  in  which  men  can  come  to  the  Father  is  by 
coming  to  Himself. 

Two  things  are  implied.  One  is  that  the  Father- 
hood of  God  is  made  accessible  to  men  in  Jesus 
Christ.  He  is  the  appointed  trysting-place  where 
men  are  sure  to  meet  their  heavenly  l<ather.  He 
was  lifted  up  as  an  ensign  (Is  ll'"'-):  when  the 
nations  see  Him  they  know  where  to  seek  God. 
The  children  of  God  are  scattered  on  the  dark 
mountains  of  ignorance,  Jesus  is  the  trysting- 
place  where  they  are  gathered  at  the  feet  of  their 
heavenly  Father  (Jn  IP-).  If  men  come  to  Him, 
they  see  the  Father.  The  other  fact  is  that  Jesus 
gives  men  knowledge  of  the  Father  by  teaching 
them  to  live  as  God's  children  must  live.  They 
must  be  meek  and  lowly  in  heart  (cf.  Mt  5^'^) ;  He 


can  make  them  so.  They  must  also  learn  obedi- 
ence to  the  Father's  will.  He  otters  to  teach  them 
this,  saying  with  marvellous  condescension,  'Take 
my  3'oke  upon  you,  and  learn  ofme.'  Heis  wearing 
the  yoke  of  obedience  to  the  Father,  and  He  finds 
it  '  easy. '  A  yoke  is  made  for  two.  Jesus  invites 
each  man  desiring  to  be  a  son  of  God  to  put  his 
shoulder  under  tlie  other  end  of  His  own  yoke. 
Then  he  will  walk  in  step  with  the  great  Elder 
Brother.  Thus  learning  from  Jesus,  he  will  become 
a  worthy  child  of  God. 

This  great  word  has  special  significance  because 
it  forms  a  link  between  the  Synoptic  teaching  and 
the  teaching  of  Jesus  in  John's  Gospel.  There 
the  enjoyment  of  filial  privileges  is  made  to  depend 
upon  man's  relation  to  the  Son  (see  especially  Jn 
519-47  628-10  819.  23-56).  The  words  declaratory  of  the 
lo^'e  of  God  in  sending  the  Son  to  save  men  are 
variously  assigned  to  Jesus  and  to  the  Evangelist. 
But  even  if  they  are  the  Evangelist's  reflexion 
upon  the  words  of  Jesus,  they  do  no  more  than 
sum  up  the  tes  '  ' 
quoted  above. 

In  particular,  it  may  be  noted  that  Jesus  claimed 
kinship  with  the  Father  because  '  I  do  always  the 
things  that  are  pleasing  to  him '  ( Jn  8''').  "f  his  is 
in  harmony  with  His  reference  to  men  who  do  the 
Father's  will,  as  His  '  brethren  '  (Mt  12**).  Men 
who  accept  His  revelation  of  God  and  duty 
become  His  brethren  ;  all  these  '  brethren '  are 
related  to  God  as  His  children.  They  comport 
themselves  in  a  befitting  manner,  which  is  essenti- 
ally different  from  the  .self-centred  conduct  of 
unregenerate  men.  This  filial  demeanour  is  gained 
by  faith  in  Jesus  as  the  Saviour.  He  offers  Him- 
self to  men  as  the  Redeemer,  through  whom  they 
can  break  away  from  sin  and  adopt  the  filial  atti- 
tude toward  God  (Mt  23",  Jn  lO'*'  '■^-^). 

This  conception  of  the  teaching  of  Jesus  on  this 
subject  is  expressed  by  the  Evangelist  John  in  the 
striking  sentence,  '  As  many  as  received  him,  to 
them  gave  he  the  right  to  become  children  of  God, 
even  to  them  that  believe  on  his  name  :  which 
were  born  not  of  blood,  nor  of  the  will  of  the  flesh, 
nor  of  the  will  of  man,  but  of  God'  (Jn  !"•"). 
Here  men  are  described  as  becominq  children  of 
God  by  believing  on  the  name  of  iesus.  They 
attain  the  dignity  by  a  new  birth  that  is  from 
above.  Their  natural  birth  does  not  make  them 
children  of  God.  Before  they  stand  in  this  rela- 
tionship they  must  receive  a  Divine  energy.  This 
energy  is  brought  to  them  by  the  Word  made  flesh, 
who  offers  Himself  to  the  world.  Moreover,  this 
reception  of  Christ  is  a  continuous  exercise  of 
faith  (tois  TTio-Tfuowni'),  implying  an  attitude  God- 
ward  that  is  maintained  from  day  to  day. 

If  an  illustration  may  be  permitted,  it  >vould 
seem  that  Jesus  represents  men  as  like  liobinson 
Crusoe's  first  canoe.  It  was  designed  to  float  in 
the  water  and  was  capable  of  doing  so :  but  it 
could  not  get  into  the  sia.     So  it  lay  on  the  shore 


like  a  lo^.  Man 
God,  and  is  capabl 
with  Him.  But  Ik 
he  must  be  carried 
and  be  launched  v 
Christ  is  the  migli 
out  of  death  in  sin 
When  men  believ 


■lliiwship  >vith 
(1  iilationship 
'f  I  his  destiny, 


I  I  )i\inf  love.  Jesus 
1  who  can  lift  men 
ilifiu  to  the  Father. 

i^  iiiiriiose  is  fulfilled. 


They  realize  their  destiny  and  become  children  of 
God.  Then  they  .spread  their  sails  to  the  wind  of 
heaven,  and  have  '  life  that  is  life  indeed.' 

"The  .scope  of  this  article  does  not  include  the 
general  teaching  of  lln-  Kpi-tli--  on  this  topic.  But 
a  brief  reference  iim~t  1m-  iii:i.|.-  lo  that  trachingin 
so  far  as  it  invohr-  a  .li-timt  r.tiT.Mice  to  Jesus 
Christ.  In  general  it  may  Ik;  siiil  that  the  teach- 
ing of  the  Epistles  reproduces  all  the  main  features 


CHILIARCH 


CHOICE 


tirliins  I 


.losns.  Tim  children  of  God  arc 
\\  lite  (liiil  has  come  to  them  by 
faitli  in  .lr>n,(hii-i  :  llnS'  ",  Gal  2^^  IJn  2=^  5". 
This  new  lit.'  iiianilr~ls  iivcH  in  a  new  moral  state 
befitting'  (iod's  children  ;ind  ilwc  to  the  power  of 
Christ:  Gal  5'"'-'',  Eph  2'"',  Col  M''"'.  In  this  con- 
nexion it  maybe  noted  that  ('In  isti-uis  are  called 
'children  of  lisht,'  who  biioic  bccoiuiii.n'  Christians 
were  '  children  of  <li~oh.MU.ii.r,'snti'erina' the  wrath 
of  God'  {Eph  -2-  :>\  Col  ::').  Thus  Christ  is  the 
Savionr  thronnh  «  horn  I  ho  children  of  God  are  re- 
born and  morally  lon.w,  ,1. 

In  particnlar.  tin Ic-n  i|.i  \.,i\<  of  ( iodV  children 

are  connected  Avith  .'i^iir,!,  ,,i  ciiii-i\  work,  (a) 
As  Redeemer,  lie  soimuos  in.-in^  .uloiiiion  into  the 
family  of  God  (Ko  S""',  G:il  3-- -4'').  This  'adop- 
tion '  has  been  interpreted,  in  connexion  with  the 
antithesis  between  sonship  and  servitude,  to  denote 
the  emancipation  of  sons  enslaved  by  sin.  This 
is  the  shade  of  meaning  prominent  in  Galatians. 
In  Romans  the  idea  of  adoption  of  those  not  pre- 
viously sons  is  emphasized.  In  both  cases,  how- 
ever, the  adoption  is  due  to  the  redeeming  work 
of  Jesus  Christ,  ministereil  to  men  by  the  holy 
Spirit.  The  word  'adoption'  is  not  used  in  He- 
brews. But  the  idea  is  found  there  in  the  figure  of 
the  Aiithor  of  salvation  leading  many  sons  to  glory 
(2'°).  (/3)  As  High  Priest,  Jesus  secures  access  to  the 
Father  for  all  who  come  unto  God  by  Him  (Eph 
2",  He  V-''-  -■'■).  This  priesthood  is  exercised  by  Him 
as  our  '  Brother,'  and  was  granted  to  Him  in  view 
of  His  experience  of  our  temptations  (He  2"  4'^). 
(7)  As  King,  Jesus  Christ  bestows  a  rich  inherit- 
ance upon  all  His  brethren.  The  children  of  God 
are  'joint-heirs  with  Christ '  (Ro  8"). 

In  regard  to  this  whole  question,  it  should  be 
remembered  that  in  all  proljaltility  our  human 
speech  cannot  describe  adequately  relations  that 
reach  into  the  eternal,  and  concern  ( ;od.  The 
figure  of  'children'  is  an  :iii:ilo;^y  i.ilhor  than  an 
exact  parallel.  Therefore  wo  .-should  ho  misunder- 
standing the  teaching  of  .l.-u-,  if  wo  piessed  the 
analogy  too  far  and  sought  to  disicor  the  exact 

counterpart  of  each  element  of  the  I :ni  rolation 

in  that  which  we  bear  to  God.  Al>o  il  is  impnitant 
torecallthat  Jesus  wasnotconceriHil  \mI  h  .ihstnict 
relations.  His  piiriiosoAvn-  j.nictiial  and  religious, 
and  He  used  tvyiu<  jw^i  -o  lar  as  they  .served  that 
purpose.  His  tciininolo-y  was  consistent ;  it  may 
not  seem  conclusiM'  on  all  |ioints  that  suggest 
themselves  to  abstract 


Literature.— Articles  in  Hastings'  DB  on  'God,  Children  of," 
'Jesus  Christ,'  'Romans,'  and  'Recreiieration ';  Commentaries 
on  the  NT,  especially  thos»  of  SaTKhv-Heartlam,  Westcott,  and 
LightfOOt;   Fairbairn,    C/fri.-.!    i,i    M.«l,r„    Th.;.ln.,,i :    Watson, 
TheMindoftheMaxl.r.  liru.-.,  A'/.w./.-.,,  ..Co',,,/,  ,,,,.1  ,s7.  /•„„?■., 
Conception  of  Christ i,!n  I >, ,  w.1.,11,   /■>,!, ■/,,„. ,  ../  ./.   ..,«;  v.ey. 
acbla,g, If T Theoloijji ;  ( ■.,.•,  yi.//. .(,....  ../  a  j;.(0.,v  .i;.,../,  is7-:;i'«, 

Education  in  Relii/iua  ami  .VunUs,   6i  11.,  J7;;ir.  ;   Dalman, 
irislian  Docl.  of  Snlrati;ii,  and 

J.  Edward  Robert,?. 

CHILIARCH  (xiXi'apxos)-— The  title  of  this  mili- 
tary officer  is  twice  used  in  the  Gospels:  Jn  18'= 
and  Mk  6='  (AV  'captain,'  'high  captains';  RV 
'chief  captain,'  'hi^h  capt:iins';  RVm  'military 
tribune(s),  Gr.  cliiiiarcli(s) ').  It  is  the  Greek 
equivalent  for  the  Roman  otlic  of  trihiitni.s 
militum,  an  office  of  great  liistoi  i.  ,il  .•inticpiii  v, 
from  the  analogy  of  which  the  fanujus  tf,l,n'„i 
plehis  took  their  name.  The  trlbuinix  iitllltum  is 
called  by  Mommsen  '  the  pillar  of  the  Roman  mili- 
tary system ' ;  he  was  an  officer  commanding  a 
cohort.     See,  further.  Legion. 

A  chiliarch  with  his  '  b.ind '  {lyTTf'pa)  is  repre- 
-.'iilcd  l,y  St.  .lohii  as  coining  with  .ludas  to  take 
O'li  Ion!  in  tlio  CMiileii  of  (iethseinane.  If  this  is 
lo  l.c  uml.  istoud  strictly  as  standing  for  a  tribuniis 
mil  it  1(1,1  and  liis  coliort,  the  use  of  so  large  a  force 


would  ])()int  to  a  great  (real  or  assumed)  fear  of 
popular  disturliance  on  the  part  of  the  authorities. 
The  words  may,  however,  be  used  in  a  general 
sense  for  a  body  of  troops  under  an  officer  (see 
Westcott,  cidloc). 

In  St.  Mark's  account  of  the  martyrdom  of  John 
the  Baptist,  Herod  the  tetrarch  of  Galilee  is  repre- 
sented as  making  a  feast  to  his  iMeyiaraves  (highest 
civil  officials),  x'^<"PX<"  (hifjhest  military  officers), 
and  TrpuiToi.  riji  TaXiXafas  (leading  provincials).  These 
'chiliarchs'  were  officers  of  the  army  of  the  tet- 
rarch, which  would  be  organized  on  Roman  models. 
For  the  association  of  ixeyiaraves  and  x'^'opx"'  cf- 
Rev  6'=.     (See  Swete's  St  Mark,  ad  lor. ). 

M.  R.  Newbolt. 

CHOICE. — In  the  Gospels,  choice  is  always  ex- 
pressed 113'  one  small  group  of  closely  connected 
words,  viz.  iKX^yofiai,  esXe/cTis,  eKXoyri.  And  these  at 
once  define  the  nature  of  the  choice,  which  is  not 
that  of  '  decision,'  but  that  of  '  selection.'  Perhaps 
the  English  term  which  more  precisely  than  any 
other  answers  to  iK\4yeLi>  is  to  '  cull,'  to  choose  here 
and  there  one,  that  is  to  say,  out  of  a  larger  number 
laid  out  in  view.  And  this  force  nf  the  word  is 
rather  cni].liasizc(l  by  the  fa.t  tli.al  in  the  NT  the 
active  Noi.c  of  I  ho  \..ili  i,  n..l  employed,  but  only 
the  niiddl..  or  p.assivo,  wilh  derivatives  which  are 
passive  in  character.  It  is  not,  then,  the  action  of 
choosing  which  is  prominent,  but  its  result ;  or 
else  the  status  or  nature  of  that  which  is  chosen. 
And  this  point  is  of  some  importance  in  view  of 
the  use  to  which  some  pa-ssages  of  the  NT  have 
been  put  by  those  who  have  attempted  to  elaborate 
from  them  doctrines  of  election  or  predestination. 
Stress  is  never  laid  chiefly  on  the  election  or  pre- 
destination of  the  Almighty,  but  on  the  fact  that 
such  and  such  are  actually  found  among  those 
whom  God  has  culled  for  Himself,  and  who  consti- 
tute His  own  people.  It  would  be  an  advantage  to 
accurate  Christian  thought  if  the  rendering  '  elect ' 
were  eliminated  from  the  NT,  and  were  replaced 
Ijy  '  chosen  '  or  '  select,'  although  it  is  a  direct  de- 
rivative of  the  original. 

The  central  meaning  of  the  terms  employed  is  well  shown  in 
the  following  cases  :— '  He  markeii  how  thev  chose  out  the  chief 
seats '(Lk  14');  'Mary  hath  chosen  the  good  part '  (lll«);  'He 
called  his  disciples,  and  chose  from  them  twelve,  whom  also  he 
named  apostles '  (O^:'),  with  w^hich  other  passages  relating  to  the 
choice  of  the  Twelve  should  be  compared,  viz.  Jn  tl7ii  15I6. 19 
13-18,  Ac  12,  and,  as  essentially  the  same,  Ao  124;  cf.  also  1  Co 
l'-".28,  Ja  24.  A  further  selection  for  some  special  service  is 
indicated  in  such  passages  as— 'God  made  choice  among  you 
that  hy  my  mouth  ..."  (Ao  16',  cf.  BS  15'-^-  '^) ;  '  Many  are 
called,  but  few  chosen '(Mt  2214).     ■     ••  .       -■ 

gradation  the  use  of  the  word  passes  0 


IS",  Eph  14  1  P  "4 


-  an  almost  insensible 


14  1  P  '4  6  9)     The  last  named  appear  m  a  group  of 

in  the  Gospels  (on  the  lips  of  Christ  Himself)  which 

t  apocah  ptic  character  and  in  all  which  the  English  render- 


nfort  inateh  elect 
ch'osen  )  (Lk  lb')  For  the 
he  shortened  the  da;  (Mk 
there  are  1  an\  sin  iHr  11 
Col  31  •>  Ti  i»  Tit  11  1  I 
spoken  of  ab  1  ose  1  (Ro  1 
(ITi  6"])  nl  le  Gods  p  i 
9"),  and  the  status  of  those  ; 
From    the    foi 


Shall 


sak  11  ho  ei  hoin  he  chose, 
J  I)  To  these 
RosJ3  115.'.28, 
I  di  duals  are 
d  also  angels 
ntioned  (Ro 
stl  I  1(1  11  14  I  1'  ) 
.,  it  IS  cleai  that  in  the 
Gospels,  and  in  the  NT  ^eneiallj,  choice'  ex- 
presses a  selection  of  some  among  other  alterna- 
ti\es,  and  commonly  selection  for  some  special 
ser\  ice  ;  God's  people  being  selected  that  they  may 
become  His  servants  who  serve  Him  and  so  serve 
all  in  the  furtherance  of  His  piirjioses  of  love, 
rather  than  on  their  own  arcount  ah.ne.  ^lore- 
over,  God's  chone  is  .ilHaVs  xiewed  ,-i-  an  .ictual 
fact  seen  in  its  r.-nll-.  and  neicr  as  an  mteiilion 
in  advance  :  ex.. .-pi  |...iii;i|is  in  rofcrcnce  to  St. 
Paursapost(dal...nMl  .la.  ..I.    destiny,  both  of  which 

are,  however,  s i.  ii.l   1..   only   when  seen   in 

retrospect.        s..-  l.i.i'  1.  Ikkkwill. 

K.  P.  Bovs-Smith. 


CHORAZIN 


CHRIST  IN  ART 


CHORAZIN.  —  Mentioned  once  only  in  the 
Gospels,  Mt  ll='  =  Lk  10•^  along  Avitli  Bethsaida, 
as  one  of  tlie  '  cities'  (ir6Xfis)  where  most  of  Jesus' 
mighty  deeds  were  done.  The  name  is  not  found 
in  the  OT  nor  in  Josephus;  and  it  is  not  certain 
whether  it  be  the  same  place  as  c-na  or  cnD  men- 
tioned once  in  the  Talmud  (Mcnahoth,  85«),  where 
the  superior  quality  of  its  wheat  is  praised. 
Jastrow's  Dictionary  gives  'Karzayim  near  Jeru- 
salem,' DaJman's  'C'n?  name  of  place.'  One  MS 
has  D'i-13,  two  '3 ;  see  Rabbinowicz,  Varia:  Lcctiones ; 
Neubauer,  Gfoqraphie  du  Talmud,  p.  220.  Most 
MSS  of  the  N't  spell  Xopaf(e)ii',  others,  especially 
in  Luke,  Xupa^iv ;  so  Stephen  in  Luke,  but  not 
Elzevir,  Mill ;  D  both  times  Xopo^atf,  and  the  same 
form  prevails  in  the  Latin  texts :  C(h)orozain. 
Why  the  editions  of  the  Peshitta,  even  Gwilliams', 

spell  ^lici2  A'oraz/n,  wefail  tosee.  Barhebrseus 

gives  expressly  ^1 5(12  Kurz'tn  as  the  vocalization 

of  the  Peshitta,  and  Chorazin  as  that  of  the  Greek. 
Neither  the  grammatical  form  of  the  name  (on 
which  see  Schwobel,  ZDPV  x.xvii.  134)  nor  its 
etymology  is  sufficiently  clear.  The  place  has 
been  identified  with  Khersa  on  the  eastern  shore 
of  the  Lake  of  Galilee,  but  more  probably  with 
Khirbet  Kerazeh,  4  kilometres  N.  of  Tell  5ttm,  first 
discovered  by  Thomson  in  1857.  Eusebius  calls  it 
a  Kuifiri  (oppidum),  12  Roman  miles  from  Capernaum , 
in  his  time  deserted ;  but  12  seems  to  be  a  mis- 
spelling of  the  MS  for  2,  as  rfven  by  the  Latin 
translation  of  .Jerome  (Eusebius,  Onoma.itinm, 
ed.  IGosterraann,  174.  25,  175.  25).*  On  the  ruins 
of  Kerazeh,  especially  its  synagogue,  see  the 
literature  tjuoted  by  Schiirer,  GJV^  §  27,  n.  59. 
Cheyne's  list  of  Proper  Names  (in  the  Queen's 
Printers'  Aids  to  tlic  Student  of  the  Hohj  Bible) 
recommends  the  pronunciation  'Cho-ra'zin ;  this  is 
supported  by  the  modern  form  Kerazeh,  if  it  be  the 
same  name  ;  the  accentuation  of  the  first  sjllable, 
common  in  German,  has  the  support  of  Kurzin  in 
the  Peshitta  ;  in  Latin  Choroza  in.  The  mediaeval 
explanation  of  the  name  '  hoc  mysterium  meum '  = 
•IKT  Nsn,  goes  back  to  Jerome  {OS  61.  8).  There 
was  once  a  tradition  that  the  Antichrist  was  to 
be  born  in  Chorazin,  and  that  its  inhabitants  were 
proud  of  this,  and  therefore  the  place  was  cursed 
by  Jesus ;  see  Expos.  Times,  xv.  [1904]  p.  524. 
The  name  Chorazin  is,  like  that  of  Nazareth,  an 
interesting  illustration  of  the  scantiness  of  our 
literary  tradition,  t  Eb.  Nestle. 

CHOSEN  ONE.— This,  like  '  Beloved  '  (wh.  see), 
seems  to  have  been  a  pre-Christian  designation  of 
the  Messiah,  o  iickeKTbt  /xov  occurs  in  the  LXX  of 
Is  42',  and  is  there  defined  as  'l<rpari\.  But  in  the 
Book  of  Enoch  '  the  Elect  one  '  is  a  common  title 
of  the  Messiah  (cf.  40=  49»  513-  '  52«-  »  6P-  »•  '<>  62>). 
Traces  of  it  still  .surWve  in  the  Gosjjcls.  but  there 
seems  to  have  been  a  tendency  to  avoid  its  use, 
perhaps  on  the  groiuid  that  it  might  seem  to  favour 
so-called  ' AdoptionLst '  \-iews  of  the  nature  of 
Christ's  relation  to  God.  Lk  9**  substitutes  6 
cK\i\eyfi(i>os  (NBLS  (1),  274 ■»«  Syr  Sin  all'.  1.  vg. 

•  In  the  Latin  text  (05=  114.  7)  the  name  is  spelt '  Chorazin,' 
not  *  Chorozain,"  as  stated  in  Encyc.  Bibl.,  where  also  the 
modern  name  KeruZfh  is  once  spelt  with  ^,  as  if  it  were  p. 

t  Among  the  niighlv  works  done  in  Bethsaida  the  feeding  of 
the  5000  is  certainly  to  be  reckoned  (Lk  QIO" ,  where  iTicfnr^t; 
of  V.12  is  to  be  explained  from  Br9»-oti5i=or«.-  iT,riT,ri.uZ  [OS 
174.  7,  18S.  75]).  Hence-  it  is  t.-iiii.tiiis;  f)  liiid  .,iic-  of  the  mightv 
works  done  at  Chorazin  !M  ;■  "     .  I- ihmukl     in  iii. 

land  of  the  Geraseues  or  i.  i  •  ,  .    r    ,       -i 

name  with  Chorazin.     Inn  •"     i 

present  writer  suggestea  '  '*  i'        ' 

snine  in  that  story  may  !«'     I  :       i  ,1  n  .m.  IIk    (, 

el-chimir  or  Tell  abu-l-ch;n;:r.    Tlie  plur.il  of  cl,iii-n  (su  in.)  in 
chanazir,  of  which  Chvrazin  might  be  a  transposition. 


in  Lk  23^*  we  have  '  the  Messiah  of  God,  the  Elect.' 
Elsewhere  the  evidence  is  more  doubtful.  6  e/tXexTds 
Tou  0eov  occurs  in  Jn  1**  in  J**  77,  218,  Syr  Sin 
Cur  e,  and  is  adopted  by  Burkitt,  Evangelion  Da- 
Mcpharrcshe,  ii.  309.  Lastly,  'approved  Son'  Ls 
given  by  Syr  Sin  in  Jn  3'*  for  rod  fiovoyevov^  wioO 
Tov  dead.  St.  Mark  and  the  editor  of  the  First 
Gospel  after  him  seem  to  have  avoided  the  o  exXcKTis 
fiov  of  the  LXX  (Is  42')  in  their  accounts  of  the 
Baptism  and  Transfiguration,  and  to  have  fallen 
back  on  a  Christianized  version  of  Is  42'  preserved 
for  us  in  Mt  12'*"-',  in  which  6  dyatrriTds  fiov  had 
taken  the  place  of  6  c/cXeKTor  nov  of  the  LXX. 

Connected  A\-ith  the  use  of  this  title  of  the  Jles- 
siah  in  the  Gospels  is  the  qtiestion  >i.s  to  the  mean- 
ing of  the  aorist  dSSKriaa  in  Mk  l"  =  Mt  3"=Lk 
3*'.  Bacon  (Joum.  Theol.  Lit.  xvi.  136-139)  nrge.s 
that  this  means  '  (on  whom)  I  fixed  my  choice,'  i.e. 
'  whom  I  elected,'  and  refers  in  the  thought  of  the 
Evangelist  to  the  Bi\-ine  election  of  Christ  by  God 
(cf.  AJTh  ix.  451  If.).  So  far  as  the  First  Gosjjel 
goes,  there  is  much  to  be  said  for  this.  AVe  might 
bring  togetlier  the  following  passages  3"  17°  if  v 
cuS6kt](T(i,  11*'  TTCLVTa  fioi  TrapedoSri  VTrb  tou  trarpos  fiov, 
28"  (56dr)  HOI  waaa  eiovaia  iv  oupavif  Kal  (irl  yijs,  and 
possibly  the  ^Xflor  of  5"  9"  lO*'  and  the  '  sending ' 
of  10«  15°-^,  as  all  in  the  mind  of  the  Evangelist 
referring  to  the  Di\'ine  choice,  endowment,  and 
mission  of  the  eternally  existing  'Son'  (cf.  11") 
into  the  world.  To  these  should  be  added  the 
citation  in  12'*  'Behold  my  son  (servant?)  whom 
I  adopted,  my  beloved  in  whom  my  soul  was  well 
pleased,'  where  the  aorists  are  most  easily  ex- 
[ilained  as  expressing  the  Divine  selection  and  ap- 
pointment of  the  Messiah  in  a  pre-temporal  period. 
In  the  thought  of  the  Evangelist,  Jesus,  bom  of  the 
Virgia  by  the  Holy  Spirit,  was  the  preexistent 
Messiah  (  =  Beloved)  or  Son  (11^)  who  had  been 
forechosen  bv  God  (3"  1''^),  and  who,  when  born 
into  the  world  as  Jesus,  was  '  God-with-us  '  (1^). 
In  this  respect  the  writer  of  the  First  Gospel  shows 
himself  to  oe  under  the  influence  of  the  same  con- 
ception of  the  Person  of  Christ  that  dominates  the 
Johannine  theology,  though  this  conception  under 
the  categories  of  the  Lo(/os  and  the  Divine  Son  is 
worked  out  much  more  fully  in  the  Fourth  than  in 
the  First  Gospel.  On  the  other  hand,  terms  such 
as  '  choice,'  '  adoption,'  which  at  an  early  period 
seem  to  have  been  borrowed  from  the  Jewish  Mes- 
sianic doctrine  to  express  it,  and  which  survive 
here  and  there  in  the  Synoptic  Gospels  and  in  the 
Acts  (cf.  9~  [Fl.  Gig.]  and  2  P  1")  are  absent  from 
St.  John.  Such  terms  were  probably  gradually 
dropped  out  of  use  because  they  could  he  used  to 
support  the  \'iew  of  the  adoption  of  the  man  Jesus 
to  be  the  Son  of  (iod,  which  they  certainly  did  not 
originally  express.  W.  C.  Allen. 

CHRIST.  —  See  Atonement,  Authority  of 
Christ,  Birth  of  Christ,  Dates,  Death  of 
Christ,  Messiah,  Person  of  Christ,  Preaching 
Christ,  etc.  etc 

CHRIST  IN  ART.— i.  Symbols.— The  representa- 
tion of  Christ  by  means  of  sjTnbols  is  not  earlier 
than  that  by  means  of  pictures.  There  are  found 
in  the  Catacombs  at  Rome  at  the  commencement 
of  Christian  art  not  only  the  Fish  symbol,  but  also 
pictures  of  the  Good  Shepherd,  ancf  of  our  Lord  in 
certain  Gospel  scenes,  all  before  the  middle  of  the 
2nd  cent. ;  and  of  these  the  Good  Shepherd  carrj'- 
in\!  a  ^lieeji  occurs  in  the  Catacomb  of  Domitilla 
lif-fuif  till'  I'lid  ijf  the  1st  century.  It  will  be,  how- 
.  ,.  !.  .  niivciiii-iit  to  begin  with  the  Symbols,  pro- 
.  r.iliim  tlunic  through  the  Types  to  more  direct 
lei.resentationsuf  Christ. 

1.  The  Fish  was  the  most  popular  symbol  of  our 


CHRIST  IN  ART 


CHRIST  IX  ART 


l^ord  ill  the  middle  of  the  '2nd  cent.,  and  continued 
so  till  the  end  of  the  4th,  when  it  suddenly  went 
out  of  use.  More  than  i  me  oauso  made  it  so  general. 
Originating  as  an  acrostic  (the  Greek  word  for 
'  fish,"  IXeXS,  standing  for  'Itjo-oOs  X^iuris,  Geou  Ti6s, 
SuT-^p),  it  formed  a  most  convenient  secret  sign 
among  the  Christians,  heiug  readily  understood  by 
the  initiated  as  represcuting  Christ  in  the  fulness 
of  His  divinity.  It  carried  witli  it  also  the  thought 
of  the  sacramental  feeding  upon  tlie  Son  of  God, 
which  is  so  prominent  in  early  Christian  art :  e.g. 
the  two  paintings  in  tlie  crypt  of  Lucina,  which 
belong  to  the  middle  of  the'ind  cent.,  and  repre- 
sent two  baskets  of  bread,  each  containing  a  glass 
cup  of  wine  and  resting  upon  a  fish.  The  earliest 
known  representation  of  this  symbol  is  even  more 
significant:  it  occurs  in  tlii>  Fnn-tin  Funis  fresco, 
recently  discovered  by  W  ilpnl  in  the  Catacomb  of 
Priscilla,  which  belo'n-s  i.i  ilic  liruiniiing  of  the 
2nd  cent.,  and  is  a  iiicluirof  u  piimilive  celebra- 
tion of  the  Comniuniim,  sc\  en  people  are  seated 
at  a  table  on  w  hicli  lie  live  loaves,  two  lishes,  and 
a  two-handled  mug,  \\  hilo  the  bishop  or  president 
at  the  end  of  the  Uiiih-  is  in  the  act  of  breaking  a 
loaf.  In  this  deeply  interesting  ijicture  of  the 
Eucharist  we  see  a  further  reason  wliy  the  Fish 
symbol  was  felt  to  be  ap[)ropriate  ;  it  carried  the 
mind  to  the  miracle  of  the  loaves  and  lishes,  which 
was  an  early  type  of  the  Eucharist  because  of  Jn 
6'-''-'.  The  Fish  symbolizes  not  only  the  Euchar- 
ist, but  the  sacrament  of  Baptism  as  well ;  this  is 
brought  out  by  the  common  representation  of  a  fish 
as  swimming  in  the  water  (see  below  under  '  Sym- 
bolic Scenes').  'We  little  fishes,' .says  Tertul'lian 
{de  Bcipt.  i.),  'after  the  example  of  our  Ichthus 
Jesus  Christ,  are  born  in  water.'  Cf.  St.  Clement 
below,  under  '  Other  Symbols.'  This  double  sym- 
bolism is  tersely  expressed  in  the  2nd  cent,  inscrip- 
tion of  Abercius  recently  discovered  liy  Ramsay  at 
Hierapolis:— '.  .  .  everywhere  was  faith  my  guide, 
and  gave  me  everywhere  for  food  the  Ichthus  from 
the  spring.' 

2.  Other  Symbols.— The  Fish  was  early  combined 
with  other  symbols,  such  as  the  Dove,ltlie  Cross,  the 
Ship,  the  Shepherd,  and  especially  with  the  Anchor, 
tlie  combination  of  the  Fish  and  the  Anchor  (first 
found  on  the  sarcophagus  of  Livia  Primitiva  about 
the  middle  of  the  2nd  cent. )  being  a  hieroglyph  for 
the  common  epitaph  '  Sjies  in  Christo.' 

There  is  an  early  mention  of  Christian  symbols  in  St.  Clement 
of  Alexandria  (Ptcrf.  iii.  11):  'Let  the  engravintj  upon  the  gem 
of  your  ring  be  either  a  dove,  or  a  fish,  or  a  ship  running  before 
the  wind,  or  a  musical  lyre,  the  device  used  by  Polycrates,  or  a 
ship's  anchor,  which  Seleucus  had  carved  upon  his  signet.  And 
if  the  device  represent  a  man  Ashing,  it  will  remind  us  of  ail 
apostle,  and  of  children  drawn  out  of  water.' 

All  these  symbols,  it  will  be  noticed,  are  com- 
mon ones,  such  as  would  not  excite  comment  among 
pagans.  However,  the  Dove  (at  first  a  symbol  of 
peace)  and  the  Ship  (which  represented  the 
Church),  the  Lyre  (a  symbol  of  Orpheus,  see  below) 
and  the  Anchor  of  hope  (see  also  under  'Cross') 
are  not  direct  symbols  of  Christ ;  nor,  except  by 
way  of  the  Eucharist,  are  they  representations  of 
bread,  wine,  or  tlie  grape.  The  Agnus  Dei,  a  post- 
Constantinian  symbol,  may  more  conveniently  be 
considered  under  the  head  of  '  NT  types.' 

In  mediifival  art  a  trace  of  the  Fish  symbol  survived — as 
indeed  it  survives  to-day— in  the  eesica  piscis,  a  figure  which  is 
still  customarily  restricted  to  the  seals  of  ecclesiastical  pei-sons 
and  corporations.  The  Dove,  at  first  used  as  an  emblem  of 
peace,  sometimes  with  an  olive  branch  in  its  mouth  (though  it 
occurs  in  pictures  of  the  Baptism  of  Christ  in  the  Catacombs), 
was  the  recognized  symbol  of  the  Holv  Spirit  in  the  apsidal 
mosaics  of  the  4th  and  .Sth  centuries,  and  thus  has  contmued 
ever  since :  the  Lanili,  the  Hand  of  God,  and  the  Cross  (see 
below),  found  in  connexion  with  the  Dove  in  these  mosaics,  also 
continued  as  common  symbols  in  the  Middle  Ages,  when  inter- 
laced triangles  and  circles  further  represented  the  Trinity. 

Two  emblems  of  immortality,  the  Peacock  (from 


the  fabled  indestructiliility  of  its  flesh)  and  the 
Phoenix,  rising  from  its  ashes,  were  early  used  as 
types  of  Clirist.  The  Star  (Rev  •22"i)  and  the  Sun 
(Mai  4-)  -were  also  used  ;  the  Rose  and  Lily  (Ca  2*) 
were  very  favourite  subjects  of  decorative  art  after 
the  13th  cent.,  but  they  came  to  be  used  rather  as 
emblems  of  Christ's  Mother  than  of  our  Lord  Him- 
self, and  often  as  badges  of  the  royal  houses  in 
England  and  France  :  the  Pomegranate,  split  open, 
originally  a  type  of  Divine  grace,  became  similarly 
common  as  a  Tudor  badge.  In  the  Middle  Ages, 
when  great  emphasis  was  laid  upon  the  Eucharistic 
sacrifice,  symbols  of  the  Passion  were  much  in 
vogue,  in  addition  to  tlie  Vine  and  Com,  the 
Chalice  and  the  Host.  Hence  the  use  of  the 
Pelican,  the  great  prevalence  of  theAqnusDei  and 
the  Crucifix,  and  the  constant  use  of  the  Instru- 
ments of  the  Passion,  in  addition  to  the  almost 
infinite  varieties  of  the  Cros.s.  The  Instruments  of 
the  Passion,  so  common  still  in  decorative  art,  are 
the  Crown  of  Thorns,  the  Nails,  the  Coat  and 
Dice,  the  Scourges,  Pillar,  Ladder  and  Sponge, 
the  Five  Wounds,  Hammer,  Pincers  ;  to  which  are 
sometimes  added  the  Sword  and  Staff,  Lantern, 
Thirty  Pieces  and  Cock,  the  Pierced  Heart,  and 
the  Vernicle  or  Najikin  of  Veronica,  and  the  Super- 
scription INRI.  The  Passion-flower,  a  popular 
emblem  at  the  present  day,  was  introduced  by  the 
Jesuit  missionaries  from  Mexico,  as  containing 
symbols  of  the  Twelve  Apostles,  the  Five  Wounds, 
the  Tliree  Nails,  and  the  Crown  of  Thorns. 

3.  Sacred  Monograms.— The  Alpha  and  Omega 
naturally  appear  early  (though  not  in  monograin- 
matic  or  interwoven  form)  because  of  Rev  1* ;  the 
first  instance  in  the  Catacomb  of  St.  Priscilla,  2nd 
cent. — '  Modestina  Afl,'  which  means  '  Modestina 
live  in  Christ.'  Some  of  the  sacred  monograms  are 
really  contractions  ;  for  instance,  the  familiar  IHC 
and  XPC  are  the  first  two  and  the  Inst  letters  of 
IHCOTC  and  XPICTOC,  just  as  MR  stands  for 
MARTYR,  or  DO  for  DOMINO  ;  contractions  of 
this  sort  were  extremely  common  in  sepulchral  in- 
scriptions (e.g.  '  Lucretia  pax  tecum  in  DO '),  but 
there  was  no  fixed  method  ;  the  abbreviations  IH 
and  Xf  .-lidDe  .'ire  scimetimes  found,  and  also  the 
initials  l.\,  wliii^h,  cumbiiied,  formed  the  earliest 
or  pre-Constantinian  monogram  N^  (the  first  in- 
stance being  in  a  3rd  cent,  fresco  in  the  Catacomb 
of  SS.  Peter  and  Marcellinus).  None  of  these, 
however,  are  found  by  themselves,  but  only  as 
abbreviations  in  the  course  of  an  inscription.  The 
Constantinian  monogram  sP  (for  XP)  is  the  first  to 
stand  alone,  though  it  does  also  occur  in  inscrip- 
tions (e.g.  '  Roges  pro  nobis  quia  scimus  te  in 
^ ') ;  this  monogram  was  considered  a  form  of  the 
Cross  (see  below) ;  it  is  characteristic  of  the  con- 
version of  the  Empire,  and  is  rarely  found  sub- 
sequent to  the  Sack  of  Rome  by  Alaric  in  410.  It 
is  often  surrounded  by  a  wreath,  and  often  has  the 
A  and  fi  on  either  side  to  mark  the  divinity  of  our 
Lord ;  in  a  4th  cent,  lead  coffin  from  Saida  in 
Phoenicia,  the  letters  of  the  old  symbol  IXGTC 
lie  between  the  arras  of  the  monogram.  Three 
main  variations  of  it  appear  in  which  the  Cross  is 
made  more  apparent  ^,  JE,  and  ^,  but  these 
are  later  and  less  common. 


The  contraction  IHC,  : 
now  called  the  Sacred 
popular  as  it  was  in  the  : 


IHS,  i 


mediaeval  times  the  confusion  may  not  have  arisen,  in  spite  of 
the  ambiguity  of  the  Greek  H  in  Gothic  character,  for  the  letter 
J  was  often  replaced  by  IH  or  HI,  and  '  Ihesus '  w 
way  of  spelling  the  holy  name.    Meanwhile  the  c 


CHRIST  IX  ART 


CHRIST  IN  ART 


the  title  XPS  has  been  almost  forgotten  ;  its  use  in  such  an 
inscription  as  IHS  XPS  XIKA  would  seem  strange  to  our  eyes; 
but  IHS  XPS  occur  on  a  portrait  of  Christ  in  the  Codex  Egberti 
(c.  1000),  and  are  not  unknown  in  late  niedis\-al  art,  e.g.  both 
are  found  among  the  tiles  of  Malvern  Abbey. 

The  initials  of  the  Stipersciiption  INRI  ('lesiis 
Xazarenus  Kex  Judjeormii '),  which  now  rank  next 
to  the  IHS  in  popular  estimation,  do  not  seem  to 
have  appeared  till  the  13th  cent.,  after  which  they 
became  the  favourite  abbreviation  of  painters  (cf. 
below  under  '  Crucifixion  '). 

i.  The  sj-mbol  of  the  Cross  eventuallj-  sup. 
planted  altogether  that  of  the  Fish,  But  in  early 
Christian  art  representations  of  it  are  very  rare, 
and  at  first  only  given  in  a  disguised  form,  al- 
though the  sign  of  the  Cross  was  already  so  greatly 
reverenced  towards  the  end  of  the  2nd  cent,  as  to 
be  used  by  Christians  before  almost  every  act  of 
daily  life, — dressing,  eating,  bathing,  going  to  bed, 
etc., — '  qucecumque  nos  conversatio  exercet,  frontem 
erucis  signaculo  terimus,'  etc.  (Tert.  de  Coron. 
Mil.  iii.).  This  great  reserve  was  due  partly  to  the 
natural  shrinking  from  the  portrayal  of  an  instru- 
ment which  was  still  in  use  for  the  most  degraded 
form  of  execution,  partly  also  to  the  fact  that  nil 
Christian  symbolism  was  necessarily  of  a  hidden 
nature  in  the  ages  previous  to  the  Peace  of  the 
Church.  Thusthefirst  rciiivM'iitatiuiw  of  theCross 
are  very  indirect;  the  n,i--  111,1 1  k^  cm  the  roimd 
Eucliaristic  loaves,  wliii  h  ;uv  ImuihI  u^  t-arly  as  the 
2nd  cent,  (on  a  sarcophauu-  in  tin-  (.'atacomb  of 
Priscilla),  merely  represent  the  folding  up  of  the 
comers  of  the  bread  to  make  it  round.  The  Anchor 
(a  symbol  which  is  rare  after  the  3rd  cent.)  often 
has  a  crossbar  so  marked  as  to  he  clearly  sym- 
bolic ;  it  was,  in  fact,  according  to  JIarucelu,  a 
hidden  form  of  the  Cross,  a  symbolized  hope  in 
the  Cross. 

The  earliest  reiJresentation  of  the  Cross  by  itself 
— the  sivastica  or  '  fylfot '  pU— which  is  found  in 
the  Catacombs  in  the  3rd  cent.,  and  is  not  un- 
common in  the  earliest  Christian  textiles— was  a 
form  so  '  dissimulated'  as  to  pass  unnoticed  among 
pagans  \\  ho  were  accustomed  to  its  use  as  a  con- 
%entional  ornament.  Only  one  undisguised  Cross 
occurs  in  the  Catacombs  during  the  ages  of  sepul- 
ture (i.e.  before  the  Sack  of  Rome  in  410),  and 
this  is  the  so-called  Greek  or  equilateral  Cross  +, 
which  has  no  special  connexion  with  the  Eastern 
Church  ;  a  small  4th  cent,  example  of  this  Cross 
has  been  found  in  the  nameless  hi/pof/eum  near  St. 
Callistus.  There^.is  a  Cross,  still  dissimulated,  in 
a  4th  cent,  fresco  in  the  Catacomb  of  Callistus,  a 
green  tree  with  two  branches,  under  which  are  two 
(loves  ;  for  the  rest,  in  the  Catacomb.s  the  earliest 
'true  and  proper  Cross,'  as  Wilpert  calls  it,  the 
earliest,  that  is,  which  is  not  a  bare  symbol,  is  in 
the  Catacomb  of  Ponziano— a  gemmed  Latin  Cross 
of  the  end  of  the  5th  cent.;  another  similar  ex- 
ample in  the  same  place  is  attributed  to  the  6th  or 
7th.  In  a  late  4th  cent,  mosaic  in  the  church  of 
St.  Pudenziana,  Rome,  is  one  of  the  few  undis- 
guised Crosses  that  have  been  discovered  of  an 
earlier  date  than  the  5th  cent.  ;  it  stands  in  the 
midst  of  the  half  dome  of  the  ai)se,  and  is  of  the 
so-called  Latin  shape  (c>-«a;  immis.sa),  and  gemmed  ; 
but  the  use  of  the  Latin  Cross  did  not  become 
common  till  the  6th  century. 

Tl\e  crux  rommissa,  orTau  Cross,  appears  earlier ; 
for,  though  a  more  exact  representation  of  the 
actual  instrument  of  death,  it  would  nass  unnoticed 
as  the  letter  T-  Of  '''is  form  Tertullian  says  (ndr. 
Marc.  iii.  22),  'Ijisa  ot  enim  littfiaCiracoiiim  Tan, 
nostra autemT,  species  i-iucis."  'I'ht' C'ldss  was  prob- 
ably recognized  as  hidden  in  thf  pre-('cin~taiitiniaii 
form  of  the  Monogram  ^  ;  and  tliougli  it  is  still 


disguisetl  in  the  '  Constantinian  Monogram,'  yet 
this  symbol  vP  was  considered  as  a  Cross  in  the 
4th  cent.,  and  it  must  have  been  the  'Cross'  which 
Constantine  saw  in  the  sky,  since  the  Cross  is 
always  represented  by  this  Jlonogram  in  contem- 
porary art.  In  the  later  varieties  of  the  Mono- 
gram, as  we  have  seen,  the  Cross  was  more  plainly 
introduced,  e.ff.  .^. 

Later.aafes  increased  the  number  of  forms  till  there  were  about 
fifty,  not  couiuini^-  subdivisions,  which  are  duly  named  by  the 

nieili'  ,,:  !,  1  ,;  1-.  /.  the  Cross  Potent,  Fleurie,  Fleurettc'e, 
Pat  ■  M  '  .  i:  ■  iiiive.  Pomini^e,  L'rdi^e,  Fourch(^e,  Pater- 
no~i   1,    '>''.  ■■  '  '  ■    -  t-nted.  Interlaced,  etc.,  in  addition  to 

the;  ■>'  ,  '  ij-is  worn  by  the  Knisrhts  Templars  and 


the  altar  during  service  time  ;  indeed,  the  use  of  an  altar-Cross 
continued  to  be  far  from  universal  throughout  the  Middle  Ages. 

S.  The  Crucifix,  which  became  the  principal  fea- 
ture of  media;val  churches,  is  naturally  of  still 
later  date  than  the  Cross,  for  the  motives  which 
caused  the  early  Church  to  shrink  from  an  open 


the  blithe  spirit  of  Christian  art  in  the  first  four 
centuries  was  certainly  against  the  portrayal  of 
scenes  of  suffering  and  sorrow  ;  representations  of 
.scenes  from  the  Passion  are  very  rare  (see  below), 
and  pictures  of  death  or  martyrdom  do  not  occur. 

That  the  death  upon  the  Cross  was  '  I^^olI^^ln^'ss'  to  jiagans  as 
well  as  a  stumbling-block  to  the  ,T(  ■■  ■  "  ■ '  "  -  "  >  ■-  niriously 
illustrated  by  the  caricature    of      :       1  ^nii-h  was 

scratched  on  the  wall  uf  the  p.ii:'  Valine  in 

figure  on  the  Cross  has  an  ass's  \u  iHa  wor- 

shippcrwith  the  scrawled  inscription  .\Ai:.5A.>lh.M_ii  iEBETE 
SEON  ('  Alexamenos  adores  his  god  ).  This  caricature  is,  as  a 
matter  of  fact,  the  only  picture  of  a  crucifixiou  that  has  been 
found  within  the  first  four  centuries. 

The  earliest  Christian  example  of  any  kind  is  on' 
a  panel  of  the  5th  cent,  doors  of  St.  Sabina  at 
Rome,  about  a  century  and  a  half  after  Constantine 
had  abolished  the  jjenalty  of  crucifixion.  The  next 
is  in  a  5th  cent,  ivory  in  the  British  Museum. 
The  third  is  in  a  Syrian  MS  of  the  year  586,  and 
is  the  earliest  dated  example.  But  all  these  three 
belong  to  the  category  of  '  Scenes  from  the  Gospels.' 
The  earliest  actualCrucifix  that  is  extant  is  a  small 
amulet  at  ^Munza,  «liicli  was  given  by  Gregory 
the  Great  to  AdahiwaM  the  sou  of  Queen  Tlieo- 
dolind,  and  belongs  therefore  to  the  end  of  the  6th 
century.  Early  Christian  literature  (the  reliability 
of  which  is  illustrated  by  every  fresh  discovery  in 
the  realm  of  archaeology)  is  markedly  silent  on 
the  subject,  the  lirst  mention  of  a  picture  of  the 
Crucifixion  lii-iii'.;  in  tlic  middle  of  the  6th  century. 
At  the  close  .f  ilui  .  .  niuiy  Gregory  of  Tours  sup- 
plies the  cailii-i  III' MU"n"  of  an  actual  Crucifix, 
when  he  telb  u^  that  there  was  one  in  a  church 
at  Narbonne,  and  that  Christ  appeared  in  a  vision 
to  rebuke  this  representation  because  of  its  naked- 
ness. About  the  time  of  Charlemagne  (800)  the 
use  of  Crucifixes  became  very  general,  and  they 
gradually  ceased  to  be  of  the  ideal  type  ;  but  as 
this  development  belongs  rather  to  the  representa- 
tion of  Christ  in  'Scenes  from  the  Gospels,'  the 
details  are  given  below  under  that  heail. 

ii.  Types.— 1.  Pagan.  -  Karly  Clni-.tian  art  is 
classical  not  only  in  it^  n-^ii\i'  .1I1..1U  tlie  Cross, 
not  (mly  in  its  use  ol  ihe  oi.linai  y  <la>-ii'al  decora- 
tive subjects,  but  also  in  its  use  ot  certain  pagan 
myths  as  symbolizing  aspects  of  the  Christian 
faith.  It  is  remarkable  that  the  moral  value  of 
the  better  elements  of  mythology  should  have 
been  thus  recognized  at  the  very  tombs  of  martyrs 


CHRIST  IN  ART 


CHRIST  IN  ART 


who  liad  suHeied  at  the  haniK  <if  ]ii<,aniMii      Tin 
figure  of  0//</((  ifs  ^^as  famiUai   is   i  liiii   n  il    \iiil    1 
amon"  the  ancients  because  lit  h         11    li       u 
Eurydice  from  Hades-   in  thi    i     i       ml      i     \ 
adopted   by   the  Chiistians    is    i      \iiilil     il    ili 
attractive  powei   of   the   MastLi       liitic  aio  tm 
instances  of  Oipheus  ^^lth  his  lyie  in  the  Cata 
combs,  tlie  earliest  being  of  the  2nd  tentuiy. 
Sometimes  Orphp  !=  i    t^i  i  scntp  I  m  his  mni  pti(  nm!  Vhn 

birds,  and  reptil  I    lltat 

gather  round,  t  r  t  M 


in  the  place  usually  icbcnc  I  fut  the  L.uud  "slKpheid 

The  story  of  Psi/(  hr  was  similarly  used,  typify- 
ing here  the  love  of  God  for  the  soul.     Ulysses  and 
the  Sirens  occuis  seveial  tunes  on  Chustian  sar- 
cophagi,  and   HdiiiIls  feeding  the  dragon  with 
poppy-seed  is  also  found.     The  jitacock  and  the 
phoenix,  symbols  of  immoitalitj ,  and  thus  of  Cbust 
triumphing  ovei   death,  as  well  as   thi    (/  /j  / 
carrier  of  souls  to  the  Isles  of  the  I'.ii        I    \\ 
other  pagan  types  that  continued  m  u        i 
the  Christians.      In  this  connexion   in  i\     iNo  1 
mentioned  the  ancient  Egjptian  symbol  of  the  so 
called  Nile  key  ^,*  y>  Inch  v\  as  used  in  textiles  by 
the  Christians  in  Egypt  for  seveial  centuries  aftei 
the  conversion  of  that  country. 

2.  OT  types. — OT  subjects  are  common  in  the 
Catacombs,  and  in  some  the  principal  figure  is 
identified  with  Christ.  This  is  the  case  with 
Moses  striking  the  Kock,  xvhere  Moses  becomes  the 
type  of  Christ  and  the  water  a  type  of  Baptism, 
the  point  being  sometimes  eniplias'ized  by  the  con- 
junction of  Christ  drawing  a  fish  out  of  the  water, 
or  in  the  sarcophagi  by  the  raising  of  Lazarus.  The 
Saerijice  of  Isaac  was  also  a  favourite  suliject  as 
typical  of  the  Sacrifice  of  Christ.  The  story  of 
Jonah  was  the  most  poimlai-  of  all  (tlicre  are  57 
examples),  as  a  type  of  tlic  lli'suin  rtiou  which  had 
been  established  by  Christ  llinisrlt  (Mt,  11!'").  Im 
the  story  of  TAe  Three  rhihlrm  the-  lij^ure  of  the 
Son  of  Man  is  sometimes  introduced.  Although 
such  OT  subjects  as  Adam  and  Eve  do  not  readfly 
admit  of  the  same  typical  treatment,  yet  in 
some  4th  cent,  sarcophagi  Christ  is  introducpd  as 
the  Logos  standing  between  them.  Representa- 
tions of  Noah  appear  as  early  as  the  end  of  the  1st 
cent.,  but  the  ark  is  a  symliol  both  of  deliverance 
and  of  Baptism  (1  P  3-'),  so  that  Noah  represents 
the  saved  rather  than  the  Saviour.  From  tlie  4th 
cent.,  when  mosaics  came  into  use,  OT  subjects 
were  largely  employed  in  the  great  apsidal  decora- 


of  St.  Vitale  at  Ravenna,  wlicic  Alul  witli  a  iamb 
and  Melchizedek  with  a  loaf  stJinl  :is  tjjics  of 
Christ  on  eitlier  side  of  the  Christian  altar,  '-which 
is  draped  and  has  on  it  a  two-handled  clialice  and 
two  loaves, — and  the  7th  cent,  mosaic  at  St.  Apol- 
linare  in  Classe,  where  Abel,  Melchizedek,  and 
Abraham  leading  Isaac  stand  round  a  similar 
altar. 

3.  NT  types.— The  earliest  manner  of  represent- 
ing our  Lord  as  a  solitary  figure  was  under  the 
type  wliioh  Hi-  Iliinsclf  liad  given— that  of  the 
Good  Sin /ihriil.  Ill  its  reserve,  its  tenderness,  its 
gracious  l,,:iiiiy,  ili,.  Hgure  of  the  Good  Shepherd 
was  cliariii  iiusiir  <if  the  first  Christian  art,  and 
its  subsequent  disappearance  was  also  character- 
istic of  mueli. 

This  figure,  which  appears  first  in  the  Catacomb  of  Lucina  in 
the  early  part  of  the  2nd  cent,  and  became  thereafter  exceed- 
ingly common,  was  in  no  sense  an  attempt  at  portraiture.  The 
Shepherd  is  always  a  typical  shepherd  of  the  Campagna,  a 


foundation  f 
net) ,  m  the 
soul  of  the  I 
aniple<5  of  tin 
St  Domitill  1 
piotureb,  thir 


of  tile  Guud  Shepherd 
;e  and  di^nit\  about  the 
lan  subject,  though  the 
gh  in  pagan  art  {eg  " 


figure  of  a  sin  |  I 

Hermes  kiiupliui  js  1 1  mi, 

make  it  both  a  bulc  ind 

The  theme  is  \aried  in  many  wa^s     occasionally  the  Good 

Shepherd  carries  a  kid,  sometimes  other  sheep  or  goats  stand 


lines  1  crook,  ind  i 
life  —indeed,  tlie  sheep  a 
ii-bented  b\  theiii&eUcs, 


1    in  the  case  of 

statiK  ui  ihc  id  (-LIU  will  II  u  IS  I  un  i  ill  ihe  Catacombof  St 
Lalllstus,  and  now  standi,  in  the  Lxtcraii  Museum  Pictures  of 
the  Good  Shepherd  have  become  populai  a^ain  m  oui  own 
time,  but  the>  axe  attempts  at  portnituu  and  \el\  far  from 
the  idealistic  t}  pe — it  ma\  almost  lie  t  ailed  a  s\  inbol — of  the 
eail.\  ages,  which  represents  a  shepherd  as  Christ,  and  does  not 
attempt  to  portray  Christ  as  a  shepherd. 

The  symbolism  of  the  Good  Shepherd,  which 
had  held  so  prominent  a  place  in  the  aflections  of 
the  Church,  disappeared  rapidly  after  the  4th 
cent. ,  and  was  replaced  by  anotlicr  NT  type,  very 
ditterent  in  its  meaning,  the  Afi»ii\  Dei,  the  mystic 


Lam  I 
Divine 
miiiils 
Clirisl 
this  IS 

milk-u 


itist  anil  iif  St.  .John  the 


ill    \  \i-\v  1  In-  t«'i  iili'.is  :ii    once  of 
|,l,,.,il  ■■111.1  ClirisI  11m-  l.^unli,  though 

ril    in    llir   Ciniruniliol   .St.    DuUlitiUa 

III'  tlir  l,;iiiili  lir:iis  the  crook  and 
n-  |i;i-iiii-.  'I'll''  i';iiliest  known  in- 
nli-nlilii-.-il  iciii  oi  Clirist  with  the 
Lamb  is  on  tlir  s|i.inilii'ls  ol  ilie  .sarcophagus  of 
JuniusBassus.w  lioilii-il  in  :i.jU:  Christ  is  represented 
among  the  Tliice  Cliildrcn,  striking  water  from 
the  Rock,  raising  Lazarus,  multiplying  the  Loaves, 
baptized  by  John,  while  another  spandrel  repre- 
sents the  giving  of  the  Law  ;  and  in  each  case  all 
the  characters  (with  the  exception  of  Lazarus)  are 
represented  as  lambs.  In  the  Catacomb  of  SS. 
Peter  and  Marcellinus  there  is  a  fresco  (c.  400)  of 
the  Lamb,  haloed  but  with  no  Cross,  standing  on 
r.  hillock  from  which  four  streams  issue.  Apoca- 
lyptic scenes  were  the  favourite  subject  of  the 
great  apsidal  mosaics  of  the  5th  and  Gth  cents., 
and  naturally  tlie  'Lamb,  standing  as  though 
it  had  been  slain,'  became  more  and  more  the 
favourite  type  of  Christ.  Often  the  Lamb 
was  accompanied  by  twelve  other  lambs  issuing 
from  Bethlehem  ami  Jerusalem,  to  represent  the 
Apostles,  as  in  the  apse  of  SS.  Cosmas  and  Damianus 
at  Rome,  A.U.  530. 

There  is  sometning  signilicant  in  this  identification  of  the 
Lord  with  humanity,  paralleled  as  it  is  by  the  earlier  tendency 
to  represent  under  the  Fish  s\'mbol  not  only  Christ  Himself,  but 
also  the  Christian  convert.  Established  as  the  type  was  before 
the  end  of  the  4th  cent.,  it  was  not  till  the  5th  that  the  Lamb 
was  pictured  with  the  nimbus  and  the  cross.  By  e92  this 
method  of  representing  Christ  had  so  superseded  all  others, 
that  the  Council  in  Tnillo  (liuiiiiscxl)  decivtd  '  tlmt  hLiuiforth 


312 


CHRIST  IN  ART 


CHRIST  IN  ART 


upon  an  altar,  the  blood  flowing  into  a  chal 
«.  great  company  of  angels  and  < 


proved 


t  a  most  enduring  one,  in  spite  of  the  growing 
representations  of  our  Lord  after  the  Quinisext  C 


;,  Burrounded  by 

3,  this  type  has 

,„^  growing  use  of 

Quinisext  CouQoil. 


iii.  Portraits  of  Christ.— 1.  Scenes  from  the 
Gospels.— The  earliest  pictures  of  Christ  are  not 
attempts  at  portraiture,  but  represent  His  figure 
onlj'  as  occurring  in  scenes  from  the  Gospels  :  the 
figure  is  needed  to  explain  the  subject,  uut  it  is 
the  figure  of  a  man  of  varying  type,  and,  as  in  all 
early  Christian  art,  -without  attributes  ;  the  char- 
acter is  determined  only  by  its  position  and  by  the 
fact  that  Christ,  like  the  Apostles  and  generally 
other  Kcripture  characters,  is  always  represented 
as  wearing  the  pallium  of  the  philosopher  (not  the 
toga),  a  convention  which  has  survived  down  to 
our  own  time,  though  realists  like  Tissot  have 
begun  its  destruction.  It  was  not  till  after  the 
Peace  of  the  Church  that  the  head  of  Christ  was 
distinguished  by  a  nimbus  :  this  custom  began  in 
the  Catacombs  c.  340,  and  the  nimbus  was  reserved 
for  the  figure  of  Christ  tUl  the  end  of  the  5th  cent., 
when  it  was  given  to  the  Saints  as  well,  and  the 
nimbus  of  Christ  began  to  be  distinguished  by  a 
cross  within  the  circle.  Among  the  earliest  in- 
stances in  which  the  figure  of  Christ  appears  are 
those  which  represent  Him  in  the  same  guise  as 
that  which  was  so  common  in  later  ages,  viz.  as 
an  infant  in  His  Mother's  arms ;  but  it  was  for 
a  different  reason,  since  the  Mother  and  Child  are 
but  parts  of  a  complete  scene,  such  as  that  of  the 
Visit  of  the  Slagi. 

The  earliest  of  all  is  in  the  CapeUa  Greca  in  the  Catacomb  of 
St.  Priscilla,  and  belongs  to  the  beginning  of  the  2nd  cent., 
where  three  Magi  approach  the  Mother  and  Child  with  their 
offerings  :  this  subject  was  a  verv  common  one.  fifteen  instances 
being  mentioned  by  Wilpert  in  the  Catacombs,  and  it  continued 


another  fresco  (of  the  first  half  of 
the  2nd  cent.),  representing  the  Virgin  andChild  sitting,  whilea 
figure  (the  prophet  Isaiah)  points  to  a  star.  The  pictu 
Virgin  and  Child  in  this  well-known  fresco  is  \  ' 
recalling  in  suteliness  and  gr.ace  as  well  as  in  design  Raphael's 
treatment  of  the  subject  :  nothing  could  be  more  unlike  the 
hieratic  stiffness  of  the  intervening  Bvzantine  and  Gothic 
types.  The  figure  of  the  Child  is  naked  in  this  instance,  though 
in  some  it  is  draped  ;  but  in  all,  the  treatment  is  that  which  we 


to 
cent,  fresco  in  the  sa 
oralis  (representing  a 
bishop  on  one  side  s: 

deacon,  and  in  the  act  of  dedicating  _  ...„ ^  ^ 

figure  on  the  other  side  of  the  picture,  wiiich  is  that  of  w..^ 
Virgin  Mary  holding  the  Child  Christ  in  her  lap.  There  is  also 
one  instance  of  the  Child  lying  alone  in  a  manger  (now  much 
decayed)given  by  de  Rossi.  To  carrv  the  subject  a  step  further, 
the  important  6th  cent,  mosaics  of  St.  -Apollinare  Nuove  at 
Ravenna  must  be  mentioned:  along  one  wall  of  the  nave  a  pro- 
cession of  male  martyrs  approaches  Christ  enthroned  between 


the  Rena 

catacomb  has  the  figure  of  a  female 
^     ,       the  midst,  while  a 
cathedra,  accompanied  by  his 
'"'        'rgin;  he  points 


ngels;  the  Vir;,'ii,  -        I  i        i 

contains  the  cro^^,  ■.,  ,       i         ,      ,i    -    ...      •  ■        ; 

type  that  endured  t   :  -     ;  ,   ni     ,  i     ;:.,!.,;,.- 

remarkable  that  (whil-  {':-  :,.  ->  mi  rii.-  .!,riir-[j.  ',  i..j,i;-l  ..-i 
the  other  wall  is  approached  direoth)  the  proi-essinii  of  li  m.il.- 
martyrs  is  led  by  the  Magi,  and  thus  the  conmion  tradition  is 
still  preserved  by  which  the  Mother  and  Child  appear  as  part 
of  this  Gospel  scene.  This  may  be  taken  as  a  transitional  in- 
stance, leading  on  to  the  later  manner  of  representing  the 
Virgin  and  Child,  which  has  been  the  chief  theme  of  Christian 
art  since  that  age,  and  the  occasion  of  so  manv  masterpieces, 
from  Cimabue,  Giotto,  Filippino  Lippi,  Botticelli',  Delia  Robbia. 
and  the  great  company  of  Christian  sculptors,  Raphael,  Michael 
Angelo,  Murillo,  and  countless  others  down  to  our  own  time. 

In  the  2nd  and  3rd  cent,  frescoes  of  the  Cata- 
combs the  adult  figure  of  Christ  appears  in  many 
pictures  of  Gospel  events ;  and  it  is  remarkable 
that  there  is  in  the  Catacomb  of  St.  Pretestato  a 
scene  from  the  Passion  which  is  almost  as  early  as 
the  first  Virgin  and  Child,— viz.  of  the  first  lialf  of 
the  2nd  cent., — and  yet  occurs  once  only:  the 
Croiening  with  Thorns  is  the  subject  represented, 
and  other  scenes  from  the  Passion  may  have  occu- 
pied the  now  vacant  si)aces  which  form  part  of 
the  scheme;  yet  no  other  picture  of  any  Holy 


Week  event  occurs  in  the  Catacombs.  It  is  re- 
markable also  that  the  subject  most  referred  to  by 
indirect  type — the  Resurrection  of  our  Lord — is 
never  once  illustrated  until  the  4th  cent.  ;  while 
the  iigure  of  Christ  raising  Lazarus  appears  as 
early  as  the  beginning  of  the  2nd  cent.,  and  occurs 
in  no  less  than  53  e.xtant  examples.  It  must 
always  be  borne  in  mind  that  the  Catacombs 
were  not,  as  is  popularly  supposed,  the  ordinary 
churches  or  hiding- placesof  the  Christians,  but  were 
designed  and  used  for  burials  and  services  in  con- 
nexion with  the  departed,  and  their  art  is  entirely 
confined  to  subjects  within  this  purpose.  Thus, 
the  Gospel  events  are  all  chosen  with  reference  to 
two  themes— the  deliverance  and  blessedness  of 
the  departed,  and  the  sacraments  of  Baptism  and 
Holy  Communion,  which  were  closely  bound  up 
with  the  thought  of  the  faithful  departed,  as  is 
shown  by  the  reference  to  baptism  m  1  Co  15^, 
and  by  the  many  chapels  for  and  pictures  of  the 
Eucharist  in  the  Catacombs.  Thus,  the  Raising 
of  Lazarus,  the  scenes  of  Healing,  the  Conversa- 
tion about  the  Living  Water  with  the  Samaritan 
woman  (as  well  as  the  pictures  in  which  our  Lord 
does  not  appear,  such  as  Jonah  and  Daniel),  all 
refer  to  deliverance  from  the  powers  of  death  ; 
while  the  Baptism  of  Christ,  tlie  Multiplication 
of  the  Loaves  and  Fishes,  and  the  Miracle  at  Cana, 
are  chosen  for  their  reference  to  the  Sacraments. 
There  is  a  good  deal  of  convention  in  the  treat- 
ment of  these  subjects — e.g.  Lazarus  is  represented 
as  a  muiinny  erect  in  a  classical  doorway,  wliile 
Christ — youthful  and  beardless— touches  him  with 
a  rod.  The  same  scenes  are  carried  on  in  the 
sculptures  of  the  sarcophagi — Lazarus,  the  Mir- 
acles of  Healing,  of  the  Loaves,  of  Cana,  the 
Epiphany,  as  well  as  the  Good  Shepherd ;  while 
in  the  4th  cent,  sarcophagi  are  found  the  Entry 
into  Jerusalem,  and  Christ  before  Pilate ;  the 
limited  funereal  cycle  of  subjects  is  widened  out, 
and  in  the  5th  cent,  ivories  and  the  carved  doors 
of  St.  Sabina  there  are  added  Christ  Preaching, 
the  Agony  in  the  Garden,  the  Betrayal,  Christ 
bearing  His  Cross,  Christ  and  St.  Thomas,  the 
Resurrection,  and  the  Ascension. 

But  the  number  of  events  illustrated  did  not 
increase  rapidly  :  even  in  modern  times  it  has  con- 
tinued to  be  liiiiiti'il.  .i-iAM'  are  reminded  by  a  com- 
parison witli  'ri-^Mts  illustrated  Life  of  oiir  Lord. 
The  following;  li~t  ut  the  .■subjects  from  the  life  of 
Christ  which  are  illustrated  in  ancient  and  medi- 
icval  art  is  given  by  Detzel ;  those  which  occur  in 
the  Catacombs  we  have  italicized  : — 

yatiHiy,  Virgin  and  Child,  Circumcision,  Presentation,  ViHt 
<'<  Marii  and  Shepherds,  Flight  into  Egyii 

,  Temptation,  Miracle  at  Cana,  . 


ypt,  Christ  among  the 
uptation.  Miracle  at  Cana,  Samaritan 
..,  Healing  of  the  Palsied,  qf  the  Woman  vnth  the  Jssue, 
Blind,  of  the  Man  with  Dropsy,   Lepers,  Raisimj  ojf 


the  Storm,  the 
i  V 

,  Betrayal,  Trial,  Scourging, 
'4  the  Cross,  Crucifixion,  l)e- 
s].  Burial,  [Idealizations  of  the 


,.  Gregory],  Christ  in 'Hades';  ilesurre 

irney  to  Kminaus"  Christ  apueariiiL'  tc 
St.  Thomas,  Dnmyht  o/ Fishes  at  the  i 
[Last  Judgment]. 


I  of  Tiberias, 


The  set  of  fourteen  pictures  found  in  Roman 
Catholic  churches  and  called  the  '  Stations  of  the 
Cross,'  some  of  which  are  legendary,  are  of  post- 
Reformation  origin.  One  scene  from  the  Gospels, 
the  Crucifixion,  must  be  taken  separately. 

The  Crucifixion  as  a  scene  from  the  Gospels  (not 
in  isolation)  first  appears  in  the  5th  cent,  on  the 
wooden  doors  of  St.  Sabina  at  Rome.  In  this 
earliest  example  the  primitive  feeling  is  shown 
by  the  fact  that  no  actual  cross  appear.s ;  Christ 


CHEIST  IN  ART 


CHRIST  IX  ART 


31  n 


and  the  two  thieves  stand,  almost  completely 
naked,  with  the  elbows  near  the  body  and  the 
hands  stretched  out  and  nailed  to  little  blocks  of 
wood ;  the  Christ  is  bearded  and  with  long  hair, 
and  his  eyes  are  open  ;  the  sculptor  has  filled  up 
the  background  with  a  suggestion  of  the  walls  of 
Jerusalem. — The  second  examide  is  also  of  the  5th 
century.  It  occurs  on  an  ivory  box  in  the  British 
Museum  :  the  cross  is  shown,  and  the  Christ  is 
nailed  to  it  with  arms  stretched  out  horizontally  ; 
His  face  is  youthful  and  beardless,  His  eyes  open, 
and  His  body  nakeil  but  for  the  loin-cloth  ;  on  one 
side  stands  a  reviling  Jew,  on  tlie  other  Mary  and 
John,  while  near  them  Judas  hangs  from  a  tree  : 
in  this  sculpture  the  title  appears  REX  IVD.  It 
is  on  another  panel  of  the  same  box  that  tlie 
earliest  representation  of  Christ  bearing  the  cross 
appears. — The  third  Crucifixion  is  a  miniature  in 
a  Syrian  book  of  the  Gospels,  now  at  Florence,  by 
Rabulas,  a  monk  of  Mesopotamia,  and  is  dated 
586 :  the  Christ  is  bearded,  and  wears  a  long 
tunic  ;  as  in  the  former  example,  the  feet  are 
separate  and  the  arms  horizontal ;  the  two  thieves, 
St.  Jolm  and  the  women,  and  the  two  soldiers  with 
the  spear  and  sponge,  are  included  in  the  picture. 

The  history  of  the  development  of  the  Crucifix 
may  be  tlius  summarized.  Apjiearing  first  as  a 
scene  of  Gospel  history  in  the  5th  cent.,  it  con- 
tinued infrequent  for  another  century,  after 
which,  in  the  6th  cent.,  the  Crucifix  in  isolation 
begins  also  to  appear.  During  the  5th,  6th,  and 
7th  centuries  it  has  the  following  iharacteristics  : 
the  Christ  wears  either  a  loin-cloth  or  a  long  tunic 
reaching  to  the  ankles,  there  are  nails  in  the 
hands  and  generally  in  the  feet  also,  tlie  feet  are 
always  separate,  either  with  or  without  the  block 
or  'suppedaneum,'  the  Christ  is  always  living.  He 
wears  neither  the  royal  crown  nor  the  crown  of 
thorns,  the  title,  when  there  is  one,  consists  gener- 
ally of  the  letters  IC  XC,  the  cross  is  either  com- 
missa  (T)  or  immissa  (t) ;  certain  adjuncts  also 
appear,  the  sun  and  moon  general]}',  tlie  thieves 
often,  Mary  and  John  generally,  the  two  soldiers 
sometimes,  sometimes  also  the  soldiers  dicing,  and 
sometimes  Adam  and  Eve. 

About  the  time  of  Charlemagne  (800)  there  was 
a  great  increase  in  the  use  of  the  Crucifix  ;  and  in 
addition  to  the  early  or  Ideal  type,  a  second  type, 
the  Kealistic,  began  to  appear.  The  Ideal  type 
continued  till  the  end  of  the  13th  cent.  (e.g.  in  the 
Codex  Egberti  at  Treves,  c.lOOO,  where  the  Christ 
is  represented  with  a  youthful,  almost  girlish  face, 
and  living,  though  without  the  royal  crown,  wliich 
is  often  added  at  this  period  to  emphasize  the 
triumphant  aspect  of  the  Crucifixion).  The  Real- 
istic type,  in  which  the  Christ  is  represented 
dying,  as  in  modern  crucifixes,  had  become  in  the 
llth  cent,  a  distinctive  mark  of  the  Ea.stern 
Church,  and  figures  in  tlie  disputes  which  ended 
in  the  great  sciiism  of  1054  ;  Cardinal  Humbert 
accused  the  Greeks  of  putting  a  dying  Christ  upon 
their  crosses,  and  thus  setting  up  a  kind  of  Anti- 
christ ;  the  Patriarch  Michael  Cerularius  retorted, 
in  the  discussion  at  Constantinople,  that  the 
Western  custom  was  against  nature,  while  the 
East  was  according  to  nature.  None  the  less, 
the  Eastern  type  had  already  found  its  way  into 
Italy  itself  through  the  iiiHueiiee  of  the  Byzantine 
craftsmen  who  worketl  there,  and  it  spread  steadily 
throughout  the  West,  till  by  the  13th  cent,  it  was 
the  dominant  type  all  over  Cliristendom.  There 
was  sometimes  m  the  transitional  period  a  ming- 
ling of  the  types,  as,  e.g.,  in  the  Crucifix  over  the 
gate  of  St.  John's  Church  at  Gmiind,  where  tlie 
figure  isyoutliful,  with  open  eyes  and  in  a  tranquil 
posture,  witliout  the  crown  of  thorns,  but  the 
wounds  and  blood  are  shown,  and  the  arms  are 
bent  and  the  liead  drooping.     The  complete  Real- 


istic type  is  well  illustrated  in  the  altar-cross  at 
the  Klosternenburg,  Vienna,  A.D.  1181,  where  the 
body  is  collapsed,  tlie  knees  bent,  tlie  arms  WTung, 
and  the  head  sunk.  In  the  IStli  cent,  the  Crown 
of  Thorns  appears,  and  the  feet  are  laid  one  over 
the  other,  so  that  the  fimire  is  held  by  three  nails 
instead  of  four.  The  Realistic  tendency  of  the 
Middle  Ages  entirely  ousted  the  earlier  trium- 
phant type,  and  in  the  14th  cent,  only  the  dead 
Christ  is  found  upon  the  Cross  in  art.  The  revival 
of  painting  at  this  period  led  to  a  further  increase 
of  Realism,  and  the  artists  who  pioneered  the 
Renaissance  delighted  in  the  display  of  their  ana- 
tomical knowledge  :  none  the  less  there  is  much 
majesty  of  quiet  reserve  in  such  Crucifixions  as 
those  of  Angelico  in  the  15tli  or  that  of  Luini  at 
Lugano  in  the  16th  century.  Among  the  famous 
examples  may  be  mentioned  those  of  Giotto  (at 
Padua),  Mantegna,  Perugino  (at  Florence),  Anto- 
nello  da  Messina,  Martin  Schongauer,  Hans  Mem- 
ling,  Raphael,  Tintoret,  Veronese,  Rubens,  and 
Vandyke, — the  later  being  the  more  painful.  The 
great  Crucifixion  by  Velasquez,  in  the  17th  cent. 
at  Madrid,  illustrates  the  furthest  point  which  was 
reached.  Westcott  truly  says  that  it  'presents 
the  thought  of  hopeless  defeat.  No  early  Chris- 
tian would  have  dared  to  look  upon  it. '  The  same 
type— a  tortured  figure  hanging  low  from  the 
hands— continued  in  the  Crucifixes  of  the  18th 
cent.,  thougli  the  mediajval  type  was  revived  in 
the  19th,  and  at  the  present  day  there  is  a  ten- 
dency to  revert  to  the  earliest  Ideal  type  which 
showed  Christ  'reigning  from  the  tree.'  There 
can  be  little  dispute  as  to  the  fact  that  the 
mediaeval  Crucifix  did  tend  to  over  emphasize  one 
aspect  of  our  Lord's  life,  though  its  constant  use 
in  Lutheran  churches  forbids  us  to  connect  it 
specially  with  one  set  of  opinions.  There  would 
jierhaps  have  been  less  feeling  on  the  subject 
among  English  people  if  the  Ideal  type  had  been 
used— the  benedictory  figure,  draped  and  crowned, 
which  embodies  the  idea  but  does  not  attempt  to 
represent  the  appearance  of  our  Lord's  death. 

2.  Symbolical  Scenes.— As  we  have  seen,  the 
earliest  of  any  representations  of  Christ  is  under 
the  form  of  the  Good  Shepherd,  and  occurs  before 
the  end  of  the  1st  cent.,  wliile  dose  upon  this 
come  pictures  of  Him  in  lli<  Mulhei's  arms,  and 
a  picture  of  His  Baptism  :,ii.l  ,,r  the  Crowning 
with  Thorns  in  the  iiiv-t  li;ill  ui  ihc  2nd  century. 
Before  the  close  of  tlic  liiul  cent,  there  appear 
representations  of  Him  in  .scenes  that  are  sym- 
bolical of  Christian  doctrine  ;  and  the  earliest  of 
these  are  in  connexion  witli  the  Sacraments,  wliile 
in  the  3rd  and  4tli  centuries  the  pictures  of  Him 
surrounded  by  Saints  in  glory  begin  to  appear. 

(a)  Sacrament  Pictures.  —  In  addition  to  the 
Gospel  scenes  of  the  Feeding  of  tlie  Multitude, 
the  Miracle  of  Cana,  and  the  Baptism  of  Christ,  in 
the  Catacombs,  there  are  Sacrament  pictures  that 
are  purely  symbolical. 

In  the  Sacrament  Chapels  of  St.  Callistus,  whose  decorations 
belong  to  the  second  half  of  the  2nd  cent.,  there  is  a  figure  of 
our  Lord,  beardless  and  wearint^-  tlie  pallium  as  usual,  stretch- 
ing out  His  hands  in  the  gesture  of  consecration  over  a  tripod 
on  which  lie  loaves  and  the  mystic  fish,  while  .'in  ni-ans,  typical 
figure  of  the  soul  of  the  person  buri..l  In  iln/  i.i.i;.,  iiinlsby. 
Among  other  pictures  in  the  same  ]t!;i'  :  i.i  n'l  -  li  to  re- 
'  the  Seven  Disciples  at  tlu-  >■        '    1       ■        ,  it-r  the 


Chr 


giving 


ng  111  the 
ish  out  of  ' 


further  along 

in  baptism,  and  further  stil! 
Baptism  and  the  Eucharist  ^m 
nexionof  the  two  Sacraments 
done  bv  the  juxtai)Ositiuii  ni 
whi.-li  tli-iv  :nv  ill  il,,  I  ',,;,, ...I 
.Striking  11  .    l:      ■        ..... 


,iti  ..  1.  |.r,-sf.nted 
iiiiK.ri  witii  Christ 
,;;  llie  roclt :  thus 
L;\-tlier.    This  con- 


CHRIST  IN  ART 


CHRIST  IN  ART 


In  the  Middle  Ages  there  was  a  very  poimlar 
form  of  Sacrament  picture,  wliich  liad  reference, 
however,  to  the  sacriliee  and  not  to  Communion, 
viz.  the  '  Mass  of  St.  Gregory,'  referred  to  above, 
where  Christ  appears  upon  the  altar  with  the  at- 
tributes of  His  Passion,  wounded,  and  cro^^■ned 
with  thorns.  Tlie  modern  Eucharistie  pictures  of 
our  Lord,  which  are  common  among  both  Catholics 
and  Protestants,  need  only  the  bare  mention  here. 

(b)  Pictures  of  Christ  in  Majesty. — There  are  no 
pictures  of  our  Lord  alone,  or  of  Him  as  the  central 
dominating  figure  of  a  formal  group,  till  tlie  3rd 
century.  Up  till  then— from  as  early  a  period  as 
the  end  of  the  1st  cent.— the  artists,  when  they 
wished  to  represent  Him  alone  (as  often  in  the 
centre  of  a  decorated  vault),  were  content  to  do  so 
under  the  type  of  the  Good  Shepherd.  At  the 
beginning  of  the  3rd  cent,  there  appears  in  the 
Catacomb  of  St.  Pretestato  the  earliest  picture  of 
Christ  as  a  solitary  figure  ;  He  sits  reading  the 
Law  ;  the  face  is  young  and  beardless,  and  the  hair 
is  so  ample  as  to  give  almost  a  feminine  aspect. 
In  the  same  century  pictures  occur  of  our  Lord 
sitting  in  judgment,  surrounded  by  saints,  as,  c.//., 
in  the  Nunziatella  cemetery,  where  tlie  Christ, 
beardless  as  usual,  but  with  hair  falling  over  the 
forehead,  holds  a  scroll  of  the  Law,  and  in  the 
panels  round  the  vault  are  four  saints  alternating 
with  four  orantes.  There  are  seven  examples  in 
the  Catacombs  of  Christ  seated  in  the  midst  of  the 
Twelve  Apostles,  and  one  of  Him  with  the  Four 
Evangelists,  and  also  nine  Iiu>ts,  all  p.unted  in  the 
4th cent.,  i.e.  the  Constant nii;iii  .la  ;  l.esides 


Christ  giving  crowns  tn 
than  the  beginning  of  tl 


30f 

s  not  earlier 
There 


sculpture  of  Christ  enthroned  on  the  sarcophagus 
of  Junius  Bassus  (t  350) ;  and  the  same  subject  is 
often  beautifully  carved  on  the  ivories  of  the  4th, 
5th,  and  6th  centuries.  By  the  end  of  the  4th 
cent,  the  great  mosaic  pictures  of  Christ  in  glory 
begin,  the  earliest  being  in  the  church  of  St. 
Pudenziana  in  Rome,  c.  390.  These  became 
thenceforward  the  leading  feature  of  the  apsidal 
decoration  of  the  basilicas  in  the  5th  and  6tli 
centuries  ;  and  they  are  by  far  the  greatest  and 
the  most  imposing  of  the  early  pictures  of  our 
Lord.  He  is  represented  in  these  mosaics  as  en- 
throned in  the  glory  of  the  Apocalypse,  among  the 
angels,  the  Apostles,  and  other  saints  and  martjTS. 
The  last  great  mosaic  of  our  Lord  occurs  over  the 
central  door  within  the  nave  of  St.  Sofia,  Con- 
stantinople :  in  this  famous  picture  Christ  sits 
upon  a  throne,  while  an  emperor  prostrates  him- 
self at  His  feet,  and  on  either  side  are  medallions 
of  the  Virgin  and  St.  Michael. 

Pictures  and  statues  of  our  Lord  in  Majesty  are 
common  in  the  Middle  Ages,  when  other  symboli- 
cal representations  occur.  A  favourite  one'(\vliicli 
is  often  found  in  the  uppermost  light  of  stained 
glass  windows,  and  in  other  forms  of  art)  is  the 
Coronation  of  the  Virgin  by  our  Lord,  which,  like 
the  Mass  of  St.  Gregory,  is  cliaracteristie  of  the 
change  that  had  come  over  Christendom  at  that 
time.  There  should  be  mentioned  also,  as  illus- 
trating tlie  lowest  depths  of  materialism  in  re- 
ligious art,  the  anthropomorphic  representations 
of  the  Holy  Trinity,  which  appear  as  early  as  the 
9th  cent.  ;  in  some  the  Son  bears  a  cross,  while  the 
Father  is  distinguished  by  a  tiara,  and  the  Holy 
Spirit  by  a  dove  over  His  head  ;  in  others  there 
are  two  human  figures  with  a  dove  between  them  ; 
in  others  the  Father  holds  a  Crucifi.x  upon  \\  Inch 
a  dove  descends:  there  are  even  exaiuiJes  of  a 
human  figure  with  three  faces. 


ymbol  by  itself  the 


by  flames  and  the  Crown  ...  ii...ii.-. 

3.  Types  of  Portraiture.— In  the  first  five  cen- 
turies three  distinct  types  appear  in  the  portraiture 
of  Christ.     They  are  thus  classified  by  Detzel : 

First  type.  — A  youthful  beardless  figure  of  purely 
ideal  character,  such  as  is  found  in  the  usual 
classical  subjects,  thus  representing  the  perfect 
and  eternal  humanity  of  our  Lord.  Kraus  calcu- 
lates that  there  are  104  examples  of  this  type  in 
the  Catacombs,  97  in  the  sarcophagi,  14  in  the 
mosaics,  45  in  gold  "lasses,  50  in  other  arts,  and 
3  in  MSS.  Although  the  earliest  representations 
are  of  this  kind  (indeed  the  3rd  and  4th  cent, 
pictures  of  Christ  in  Majesty  are  as  purely  ideal 
as  are  the  1st  and  2nd  cent,  pictures  of  the  Good 
Shepherd),  there  are  instances  also  of  the  beardless 
Christ  in  the  mosaics  [e.g.  in  the  Raising  of  Lazarus 
at  St.  Apollinare  Nuova,  and  the  Throned  Christ  at 
St.  Vitale,  both  of  the  6tli  cent.),  in  the  time  of 
Charlemagne,  and  as  late  as  the  13th  cent.,  e.g.  in 
the  golden  altar  at  Aix-la-Chapelle,  where  the 
Christ  is  of  youthful  aspect  and  enthroned. 

Second  type. — Christ  is  represented  bearded,  in 
the  fulness  of  manly  strength  ;  thus  there  is  still 
the  conception  of  an  ideal  humanity,  immortal 
and  unmortitied,  without  harshness  and  without 
sorrow.  Examples  occur  frequently  in  the  mosaics 
of  the  4tli  to  6th  cents.,  as  at  St.  Pudenziana, 
St.  Maria  Maggiore  at  Rome,  St.  Apollinare  in 
Classe,  and  St.  Vitale  at  Ravenna  ;  ami  also  in  the 
late  7th  or  8th  cent,  fresco  of  the  Catacombs  of 
St.  Generosa. 

Third  type. — The  Byzantine  type,  which  appears 
thrice  in  the  Roman 'mosaics  of  the  5th  and  6tli 
cents,  (e.g.  at  St.  Paolo  fuori  le  Mure),  and  em- 
bodies the  growing  monastic  asceticism  of  the 
time.  Christ  in  this  type  appears  older  and 
more  severe,  with  longer  hair  and  beard,  deep-set 
eyes  and  hard  features.  This  developed  into  the 
still  harder  and  stifl'er  '  debased  Byzantine '  type. 

To  these  may  be  added  the  Modern  type,  in 
which  artists  innumerable  have  striven  to  embody 
their  highest  conceptions  of  human  perfection  and 
Divine  goodness.  After  the  long  sleep  of  pictorial 
art,  the  revival  of  sculpture  and  painting  gave  us 
such  statues  as  the  Beau  Dieu  of  Amiens,  and  all 
the  famous  pictures  of  such  artists  as  Orcagna,  Fra 
Angelico,  Masaccio,  Perugiuo,  Raphael,  Leonardo, 
Luini,  ]\Iichael  Angelo,  Titian,  Durer,  Guido, 
Murillo,  Rubens, — to  mention  only  some  typical 
instances, — and  the  many  works  of  our  own  times. 
All  have  followed  in  the  main  the  type  which  the 
media'val  and  Renaissance  artists  obtained  from 
the  legendary  descriptions  which  are  mentioned 
below. 

iv.  The  Question  of  the  Likeness  of  Christ. 
— It  is  obvious  from  what  has  been  already  stated, 
that  no  tme  portraits  of  Christ  have  come  down  to 
us,  and  that  no  attempt  was  made  at  reproducing 
His  likeness  in  the  first  centuries.  The  earliest 
portraits  varied  much  in  type,  and  had  only  this 
in  common— that  they  were  all  idealistic,  repre- 
senting the  countenance  of  a  man  unmarred  by 
faults  or  peculiarities  ;  while,  in  particular,  the 
art  of  the  Catacombs  and  of  the  earliest  sculpture, 
with  entire  disregard  of  historic  aetnality,  repre- 
sented the  Lord  under  tin-  ly\>'-  "f  .i  licautiful 
youth.  The  early  controver>y  a-  to  tin-  ai.pearance 
of  Christ  shows  how  entirely  all  tradition  of  His 
actual  appearance  was  lost. 

Influenced  by  certain  OT  passages  {e.g.  Is  53),  Justin  Martyr 
had  already  said,  in  the  earliest  extant  references  to  the  aspect 
of  Jesus,  that  He  appeared  '  without  beauty '  (Trj/pli.  U,  3G,  85, 
SS);  later,  Clement  of  .\le.\andria  had  also  arsrued  in  favour  of 


CHRIST  m  ART 


CHRIST  IN  ART 


315 


Christ  hpin 

(c.  Jutl.  1  ! 

(™Ceb.''v"i' 
somethiui_  . 


of  pagan  beautj'-uur- I     !.i     II     h  ul  ■  no  torm  nor 

whom  were  St.  BiiMi  ,ui.l  .-,    'it .>,.  u... 

If  we  turn  from  these;  ilis|iutati(jiis  to  the  Gospels, 
we  find,  indeed,  no  descriptions  of  our  Lord,  but  we 
discover  on  every  page  One  whose  personality  had 
a  wonderfully  attractive  power,  and  whose  dignity 
impressed  friends  and  foes  alike.  And  we  may 
conclude  that  tlie  instinct  of  the  Church  as  a  whole 
was  right  m  attributing  beauty  to  the  Son  of  Man, 
since  the  Incarnation  was  the  taking  on  of  the 
perfection  and  fulness  of  humanity.  At  the  time 
of  the  controversy,  those  on  the  extreme  ascetic 
side  went  so  far  as  to  make  hideous  pictures  of  the 
Redeemer ;  but  the  idealism  of  early  art  had  an 
easy  triumph  in  the  end,  because  Christ  is  indeed 
the  Ideal  of  humanity,  and  the  outward  form  of 
man  is  ultimately  the  e.xpression  of  the  soul 
within. 

The  fact  that  the  early  portraits  of  Christ  are 
purely  ideal  is  the  more  remarkable,  because  there 


representations  of  Christ  in  tin-  Ci^pd  scenes  of 
the  2nd  and  3rd  cents.  ,ui>.  .i,  iias  been  stated 
above,  merely  figures  ot  ihc  rl.i--ir,il  type  neces- 
sary for  the  determination  ot  the  im  iil.'iit  (lc|iieted, 
and  only  to  be  distinjiuislu'd  l.y  llir  siluatiou  in 
which  He  is  represented,  and  partly  liy  i  lir  |Mlliuni 
in  which  He  and  the  Aiio.stiis  an-' always  por- 
trayed. 

It  is  hardly  necessary  to  dwell  on  the  portrait  of  Himself 
which  Christ  was  fabled  to  have  sent  to  Abgar,  kini,'  of  Edessa, 
by  the  hand  of  Thaddaaus ;  or  on  the  various  legends  of 
Veronica  and  her  napkin.  .St.  Peter's  at  Rome  claims  to  possess 
the  true  handkerchief  of  Veronica  ;  but  of  this  relic  Bartier  de 
Montault,  who  saw  it  in  1S54,  says  tliat  '  the  place  of  the  im- 
pression exhibits  only  a  blackisli  surface,  not  giving  any  evi- 
dence of  human  features,'  and  he  adds  that  the  supposed  copies 
of  it  have  no  iconographic  value  whatever  (Ann.  Archeol.  xxiii. 
232). 

The  emperor  Alexander  Severus  (ace.  222)  placed 
in  his  lararium  the  image  of  Christ,  as  well  as 
those  of  Abraham  and  Orpheus  ;  a  sect  of  Gnostics 
also  venerated  images  of  Christ,  Pythagoras,  Plato, 
and  Aristotle ;  but  in  neitlier  case  is  it  claimed 
that  actual  portraits  were  used.  Eusebius  (r.  325) 
tells  us  that  a  bronze  statue  of  Christ  stretching 
out  His  hands  to  a  kneeling  woman  had  stood  till 
the  time  of  the  emperor  Maximiu  Daia  (itc:  308) 
at  Ca;sarea  Philipni,  and  that  he  liim-self  had  seen 
it  at  Paneas  (HE  vii.  18) :  in  his  time  it  was  re- 
garded as  a  representation  of  Christ,  erected  in 
gratitude  by  tl  e  o  an  vl  o  He  1  d  1  aled  of 
the  issue  (al  o  calle  I  Vero  )  Mo  t  1  to  ans 
hold  with  G  bbo  tl  at  t  a  eallj  tl  e  t  t  e  of 
an  emperor  receiv  ng  tl  e    ul  o    ot     j  ov  n  e 

and  that  tl  i   a  counts  fo    tl  e  1 1  o        1     tl  e 

Saviour  tl  e  Benefa  to        1    t  1         111 

it  is  urged  a         j  ol    1  I     tl        1        I  111 

have  mistaken    o   f       1  I  I 

should   1  ave  bee      e    o      1  1 \    M  t 

public  pos  tion  a    1     It  elj    I  1  I 

the  Apostate  (         J61)    t       i  I  11 

have  been  i  ove  1  f       t       1 1  I  1        e 

that  one       1 1 "      I  I    I  1       t    I  d 

exist  bei         I 

E'l'^''''        I  II  1  lb      ell  kno    n 

letter  I..  \l  J    t      C       x\    1515) 

«ays  pla    1>     1  CI      t      e      o    le  e 


to  bo  found  in  churches,  and  it  is  notorious  that 
with  us  alone  they  are  forbidden,'  and  mentions 
that  he  took  away  from  a  woman  two  painted 
figures  like  philosophers  which  the  owner  took  for 
lepreseiitntions  of  Paul  and  the  Saviour,  'not 
iliiiikiii-  il  right  in  any  case  that  she  should 
ixliiliii  I  lain  further,  that  we  may  not  seem  like 
idwlairis  lo  carry  our  God  about  in  an  image.' 
Here  linili  the  dislike  of  anything  like  portraits 
of  Christ  and  the  reason  for  that  dislike  are  plainly 
stated.  However,  the  establishment  of  Christi- 
anity in  the  Empire  rapidly  caused  a  change  of 
feeling,  and  images  were  soon  common.  With  the 
lialf-pagan  people  this  led  to  idolatry,  and  the 
Iconoclastic  Controversy  in  the  East  (71ti-S42)  was 


the  result :  one  of  tit 
long  struggle  was  the  i 
of  the  statue  of  Christ 
gateway  of  his  palac 
place  he  set  U]i  a  plaii 
of  Nicica  (7S7)  nuhIi.:, 
they  were  not   linally 


idents  in  that 
.eu  the  Isaurian 
.>\  er  the  bronze 
iitinople  ;  in  its 
•  second  Council 
<.l  images;  but 
svj.  The  West 
,  and  the  use  of 
all  kinds  of  inui-e-  went  oil  iiiicla-Vkeil  ;  hut  in  the 
East  statues  are"  not  allowed  withiu  the  churches— 
but  only  pictures— to  this  day.  The  pictures  of 
the  East  have  retained  their  rigidly  tunservative 
character ;  but  in  the  West  the  greatest  artists 
have  striven  from  age  to  age  to  represent  our  Lord 
in  the  utmost  majesty  and  beauty. 


of  Christ's  appearance,  though 
any  historical  value. 


The  most  fanu 
people  of  Jerusal 
the  12th  century.     '  There  '. 
'  Lentulus,  '  a 


,  beautiful,  with  : 


the  letter  of  '  Lentulus,  president  of  the 

the  Koman  .Senate,  a  forgery  of  about 

appeared  : 

ppos'  ■      ■  ■  -  ■  "    ■   ' 

venerable  countenance,  which  they 
love  and  fear.  His  hair  is  waving  and  crisp,  somewhat  wine- 
coloured,  and  glittering  as  it  flows  down  over  his  shoulders, 
with  a  parting  in  the  middle,  after  the  manner  of  the  Nazarenes. 
His  brow  is  smooth  and  most  serene ;  his  face  is  without  any 
spot  or  wrinkle,  and  glows  with  a  delicate  flush.  His  nose  anil 
mouth  are  of  faultless  contour ;  the  beard  is  abundant,  and 
hazel  coloured  like  his  hair,  not  long  but  forked.  His  eyes  are 
prominent,  brilliant,  and  change  their  colour.     In  den 


with 

but  oftentimes  t 


His  hands  a 


imbs  are  beautiful 
to  look  upon.  In  speech  he  is  grave,  reserved,  modest ;  and  he 
is  fair  among  the  children  of  men.*  This  beautiful  description 
was  doubtless  influenced  by  earlier  works  of  art  and  enrbodied 
earlier  traditions,  as  that,  for  instance,  of  St.  John  Damascene, 
the  champion  of  images  against  Leo  the  Isaurian  (c.  730)  and 
the  last  of  the  Greek  Fathers  ;  he  described  our  Lord  as  beauti- 
ful and  tall,  with  fair  and  slightly  curling  locks,  dark  eyebrows 
which  met  in  the  middle,  an  oval  countenance,  a  pale  com- 
plexion, olive-tinted,  and  of  the  colour  of  wheat,  with  eyes 
bright  like  His  Mother's,  a  slightly  stooping  attitude,  with  a 
sweet  and  sonorous  voice  and  a  look  expressive  of  patience 
nobleness,  and  wisdom  (J.  Dam.  0pp.  i.  34U).  In  another  place 
(id.  630)  he  indignantly  reproaches  the  Manichees  with  the  view 
once  held  by  earlier  Fathers,  that  the  Lord  waa  lacking  in 
beauty. 

Thus  we  may  safely  conclude  that  there  is  no 
authentic  portrait  or  description  of  Christ,  while 
al  'tt'n„  tl  at  tie  tyje  a  eitelfoi  o  e  tl  a  a 
tl  o  a  1  years  all  tl  at  t  CI  ta  ca  le  le 
s  nee  t  tl  at  of  a  pe  fe  1 1  m  ty  in  1  cl  so 
fa  a  e  coul  I  po  t  ay  it  tl  e  fulness  of  God 
1    ell    lol  ly 

(  <103)  g    es  for 


316 


deU 
Ilustr 
b  hi  o„t 


CHRISTIAN 


CHRISTIAN 


V      el     Hfl 
I  U-  M  ther 
Srtfr  rf    f  (  (1 
-il  books  c 


CHRISTIAN  (The  Name)  -The  v  oi  1    Cln  i  ti  m 

II      in   tl  c  N  r  ( 1  Ij   1  1    V     n  "  2fa  8  (al  out  20 
jtais  Htoi)         1114  riie    luthor  of    Vet 

illudes  to  It  1  1    1  tieatise(Ll    fa   ) 

li)we\ei    1  utt  til  of  le  us  i    tnti 

1  lent  vlio  e  111  tltist  is  tolouie  I  1  j 

me  experiences  auu  lermiuoiogy  of  uiie  Aposiouc 
age.  In  some  other  passages  where  it  is  apparently 
luentioned  {e.g.  Ac  5",  Ja  2'),  the  '  name '  is  not 
'  Christian '  but  '  Christ,'  -while  the  references  in 
Josephus  {Ant.  XVIII.  iii.  3)  and  the  Pompeii  in- 
scription {C'lL  iv.  679),  it  may  be  noted  in  passing, 
are  too  uncertain  to  be  used  as  evidence  for  the 
title.  Other  and  later  inscriptions,  however,  are 
accessible. 

For  the  origin  and  primitive  usage  of  the  term 
we  are  thus  thrown  back  upon  the  three  lirst- 
named  passages.  Of  these,  the  fontal  reference  in 
Ac  IP"  e.\plains  that  the  name  by  which  the  re- 
ligion of  Jesus  has  been  known  for  nineteen  cen- 
turies was  coined  by  the  pagan  slang  of  Antiocli 
on  the  Orontes,  a  city  which,  like  Alexandria,  was 
noted  for  its  nicknames.  Yet  the  title  is  not  a 
rough  sobriquet.  It  expresses  a  certain  contempt, 
but  not  derision,  though  .St.  Luke  does  not  inform 
us  whether  it  was  coined  by  tin-  m-l,  ,,i  l,\  -M\ein- 
ment    officials.     'Christian        \  ii'l'ly 

means  'a  follower  of  ('liii~t,    ni  i         ,  •nius 

or  Heroclktyius  denotes  'afnlldH.r  ^i  i-iiii-.m  of 
Pompey '  or  '  of  Herod.'  '  Christ '  wiis  thus  taken 
as  a  proper  name.  It  meant  no  more  to  these 
Syrian  pagans  than  some  leader  of  revolt  or  ob- 
scure religious  fanatic  in  Palestine.  His  name 
was  ever  on  the  lips  of  a  certain  set  of  people,  and 
it  was  but  natural  that  these  should,  for  the  sake 
of  convenience,  be  distinguished  as  '  Christ's  ad- 
herents '  or 
the  tit  it- 
was  ai^ili'- 
Antioi:li  «i 
new  religii 


(  hii  tians.'  Nor  could  the  title  have  been  coined 
1  J  the  le^vs,  who  would  never  have  admitted  that 
lesu  of  Nazareth  was  the  '  Christ.'  To  tliem 
1  li  X  eri  in  Jesus  were  '  Nazarenes '  or  '  Gali- 
1 1  was  the  pagan  community  of  Antioch 
th  It  would  invent  and  apply  this  title.  Now 
u  implies  life.  Titles  are  not  required  unless 
I  intil  t  definite,  energetic  fact  emerges.  And 
I  I,  nt  td  evidently  felt  for  some  such  designation 
I  C  hristian'  arose  from  two  causes:  {a)  from 
the  conspicuous  extension  of  the  new  movement 
tliioughout  the  country  and  the  city,  and  (6)  more 
jarticulaily  from  the  predominance  of  Gentile 
Chnstians,  who  could  not  be  provisionally  grouped, 
like  most  of  their  Jewish  fellow-believers,  with 
the  community  and  worship  of  Judaism.  Tliere 
V  IS  T,  Je\iish  ghetto  at  Antioch.  But  the  local, 
heterogeneous  paganism  yielded  an  incomparably 
iicher  harvest  to  the  efibrts  of  the  Christian 
ir,c  ts  so  that  the  general  success  of  the  move- 
iiitiit  piodnced,  for  the  first  time,  a  noticeable 
alteiation  in  the  proportions  of  Jewish  and  Gentile 
(  hri-,tians — so  noticeable,  indeed,  that,  as  the  his- 
tonin  joints  out,  it  necessitated  an  attempt  on 
the  ])drt  of  the  outside  public  to  verbally  cla.ssify 
the  adherents  of  the  new  faith.  The  significance 
of  thi>  step  is  patent  to  the  historian.  He  signal- 
izes me  crisis.  The  Christianity  he  knew  was 
overwhelmingly  a  Gentile  Christianity,  and  in  Ac 
11-^  he  is  keen  to  mark  its  d^but,  as  well  as  to 


Cart   r  „1 1 

I     Ire     h 

to    m  (IJOO) 

i    1)1  MMH 


T^no 


ly,  in  givinj 
tlifvc  i-;  no  i\i(l.n(e  to  show 
u^ly  tu  .li-w-  i1m-,i_.  citizens  of 
liuM/.iiiu  Olio  .If.-i.  truth  of  the 
that  it  realed  not  on  a  dogma 
or  upon  an  institution,  but  on  a  person  ;  and  tliat 
its  simple  and  ultimate  definition  was  to  be  found 
in  a  relationship  to  Jesus  Christ,  whether  '  Christos ' 
to  these  Syrian  Antiocheues  was  some  strange  god 
(Ac  17")  or  a  Jewish  agitator.  An  outstanding  trait 
in  the  Christians  whom  Pliny  found  in  Bitnynia 
was  that  they  '  sang  a  hymn  to  Christ  as  to  a  god ' 
(Plin.  Ej).  X.  96,  ad  Trajan.)  at  worship.  From 
the  impression  made  by  facts  and  features  like  this, 
it  was  but  a  step  to'  designate  the  new  sect  as 
'  Christ's  folk  or  party.' 

,  It  AV.%s  iioithfr  tin'  original  nor  the  chosoii  nanic 
of  beli«.-v.-i-  ill  .lo-us  Christ.  Their  iimn  tiil.~ 
(see  Wc>iz-a.koi\  Ajnist.  Age.  i.  p.  i'.M.)  w.i.- 
'brethreu,'  '  .UM-iplos,'  ;ind  'saints,'  all  ol"_«liiili 
preceded,  and  fur  some  time  survived  alongside  of. 


suggest  that  the  name  '  Christian '  was  primarily 
and    principally  applied    to    Gentile    Christians. 


'  Truly,'  as  Renan  observes,  '  it  is  remarkable  to 
think  that,  ten  years  after  Jesus  died.  His  religion 
already  possessed,  in  the  capital  of  Syria,  a  name 
in  the  Greek  and  Latin  languages.  Christianity 
speaks  Greek,  and  is  now  finally  launched  into  that 
great  vortex  of  the  Greek  and  Roman  world  which 
it  will  never  leave.'  Its  weaning  from  the  breast 
of  Judaism  had  commenced.  And  this  was  due  to 
that  increasing  sense  of  Christ's  personal  authority 
which  has  been  already  noted  (cf.  Amiel's  Journal 
Intime,  Eng.  tr.  p.  3  f. ).  The  more  the  significance 
of  this  came  to  be  grasped,  as  the  new  faith  ex- 
panded beyond  the  precincts  of  Judaism,  the  more 
did  the  distinctive  universalism  of  the  Gospel 
assume  its  true  place. 

For,  while  the  basal  conception  of  '  Christian ' 
is  Semitic  ('Christ'),  the  linguistic  termination 
{■iani)  is  either  Latin  or  (more  probably)  Greek. 
Even  were  it  Latin,  it  would  be  hasty  to  attribute 
(with  Baur)the  origin  of  the  term  to  Rome,  where 
Tacitus  is  our  first  pagan  witness  for  its  ciurency 
about  A.D.  110.  Early  designations  in  -ioi'6s  (cf. 
Mk  3^  Justin's  Dial.  35)  were  not  infrequent 
among  the  Greeks  of  Asia  Minor,  and  it  is  arbi- 
trary scepticism  to  hold  that  St.  Luke  in  Ac  1 1-" 
must  have  antedated  and  misplaced  the  origin  of 
the  name,  or  that  Tacitus  has  done  the  same. 
The  latter  {Annul,  xv.  44)  describes  Nero's  victims 
as  '  men  whom  the  common  people  loathed  for 
their  secret  crimes,  callinj^  them  Chrestians.  The 
name  was  derived  from  Cnrist,  who  had  been  put 
to  death  by  Pontius  Pilate,  the  iirocurator,  during 
the  reign  of  Tiberius.'  Long  before  that  period  it 
must  have  been  the  interest  of  the  Jews  and  Chris- 
tians alike  to  differentiate  themselves  to  some 
degree,  one  from  the  other.  And  the  circum- 
stances of  the  Neronic  imeute,  which  was  probably 
instigated  by  the  Jews,  must  have  made  the  dis- 
tinction plain,  once  and  for  all,  to  the  local 
authorities.  The  inherent  probabilities  of  the 
case,  therefore,  seem  to  iireclude  any  reasonable 
suspicion  of  a  hj/strrmi  /irultni,,  u|.oii  tlio  part  of 
liie  Roman  hi.storian  ;  imi  i-  il  miiiatui.il,  I'wu  for 
ii;;i<l  historical  critiri-m,  t.i  ailmit  I  hat  the  dis- 
tinctive name  of  '  Christian  '  may  liav.-  ln-.-n  coined 
I  and  current  nearly  twenty  yciiis  earlier  uiiou  the 


CHRISTIAN 


CHRISTIAN 


Tn  tihort  both  passages  in 


banks  of  the  Orontes. 


-iiy 


Acts  gi'^  "•— VT       '      : .  "iiofi    tlip    author   been 
authentic  i-emn"scences ;    had    the    aw 
more  anxious  to  emphasize    *!«    "^w  na^ 

^4  *^^^™inw.n;hahv,;fv'lbHe;^s(^ 

nueS  to\he  punishment  of  death 

,  , ,,r  tho  mere  name  of  'Christian    was 

final.  Polycarp's  martyrdom  ^^  ""J  ^^J*  "  "  ;„  Qaul,  not  long 
point.    But  the  story  of  the  martyr  i'^nctus  m  i,au  b 

against  them  that  ho  «ouu  noi  j„  i.ieg  was,  "I  am  a 
Loused  o' Chnst>an.ty  he  wr>to  '^^^^^j^*^^  I  i  asked 
I'i™*-  ff  ,n  eiecutioif  •    The  test  apphed  to  doubtful  car' 


1  p  -2^  perhaps  a  slight  play  on  the  ^vora).     Sucl. 

„o™rc<  ov».«,  they  retort  upon  their  entics  a  d 
opponents,  'If  our  name  has^this ^meaning;  ^^lly 


iSTt'up  to"opp';obrT;;;rf"Does  it  not  sSit  our 

SLlJrto  autL!6Wi«".(whilenowa. 
avs  o  CO  use,  ^ve  know  that  their  proper  name 
s  ^'hr°stian")  '  (ii.)  The  other  play  upon  the  word 
was  more  pri^;ate,  though  it  also  may  have  ongin- 
Tted  n  sLme  po'pular  °ety raology  I  was  con. 
nected  wth  C'An-.5<o.s- as  'the  anointed.  "  f  ai_e 
called  Christians,'  says  .Tl'-I^.i  -.  -^^i^f  ^- a'". 

^f'/A-Tt'etrn'otiier  motiies  contributed  to 

[hf  Apostolic  or  early  cfiristian  eonBCiousness.  bo 
ploys  it  in  order  to  plead  for  .^^"^^•^"V;'!^"  %^ 

ill^tr^:K'o,t^tr=is: 


"■"iTVT,'.'  r;an,P  ot  Christian  he  legally  borne  by  any  one 

£!'■•:£ !:  S*^.*S.  ,?S."i.°,..-.i... .»« ■«"■ 

tarily  or  involuntarily  incurred. 

R..tli  1   P  418  „n(j  Ac  '26=*  denote  the  use  of  tl: 
titfe  by   outsiders  (Ja  '2'   referring    probably  to 
'airisf,'  not  •  Christian.'),  and  thi.  — -oborated 
by  the  evidence  of  Christian  writings  m  the  -nd 
cent     where  we  find  that  its  comparatively.  -_-- 

among  Christians  the.nse  ves  are    to    be  found 
however    in  Asia  Minor  during  the  first  quartei 
of  the  2nd  cent.   (Ignatius-himse  f   a  native  of 
Antioch-and   the  Didachc    cf.  Mart.  Pf^  <-■   f 
Hhe  God.beloved  and  God-fearin|  people  <^f  the 
Christians'),  in  Gaul  by  the  middle  of  t^e  -nu 
cent    (Eus    HE  v.  1),  and  elsewhere  (cf.  Jip.  aa 
S«!' Christians  ar;  in  the  world  as  t  -  -ulj 
in  the  body,'  etc.  etc.).     Gradually,  a«  time  wen* 
on,   the  title  came    to    assume  jhf^  P°"ig°' 
authority  which    it  has    occupied  for  centuries 
though  it  does  not  seem  to  occur  on  a  tomb  t  1 
the  close  of  the  3rd  cent.  (Asia  Minor).     A"d  this 
process  was  marked,  if  not  accelerated,  by  a  aouDle 
play  upon  the  word,     (i.)  It  was  o  ten  PW"°""^„^^ 
or  raiipronounced  ChresHani^  ^^  if  derived  f  om 
the     familar     proper    name    Chrestus    (cf     Suet. 
Viand.  25),  the  vernacular  adjective  xpvrri^  being 
equivalent  to  '  kindly,'  '  excellent,'  '  worthy    (ct. 


Christians  gloriett  m  uie  M<in.c  "'  . 'r*  -     , 

tSw;^'^f  ^t  ^=/d:^ivirSe3 

'cathX'  wilhin  and  the  use  of  '  Nazarene    (in 
%=th^e' ^^K^sage  of  the.  t«^    three  j^^^^^^ 


the  norm'^of  dristianity.     The  <p^;:.J^^^:^ 
well  put  by  Rathbone  Greg  (Creed  ^ih  '^^'^^_ 
vol    1    n    xlixf.).     The  .second  point  is  thu  aeii 
^U  l^^Jon  of  the  muiie,_  as^  -^"^11.^^ 
sectarianism,   by  certain   '.""■.;    ,,..    |i,.„mmond 
volume  of  Dr.   Ma'-tincau  ^    /.  /  .    ''>       ."^'^^  ^^ 
and  Upton).      And,  thir.  1> .     '    ^^        from  tbe 
notice  that  an   .^'"J  ,  I,,,;,,,,;.,  ,,y  tSe  name  of 
revival  of  180|'.^;     ,   „      , '    ,„'  u.-st  /long),  in  order 
'Christians    (1"""'"""  "-     '     '. indoles 
to  bring  out  then-  '--  -^'     .  'X^tithesis    to 
SS,'  ^^  var^us^-  definitions,  practical 
jr;hi,..,ai«    have   W  ^^ 
Samuel    L,    ..  N.  see   \]l  q^^^^^„^<^  jteligion  of  a 
V  ^■"     ''■/    ,     il'     vu)    and  Sir  John    Seeley  .s 
{'T''    ,        ,  '    ';,     (i    ch.  iii.).     'He  who  can 
'      il,-  L..1.1-  ^'niyer  sincerely  must  surely  be  a 


318 


CHRISTIANITY 


CHRISTIANITY 


Christian,'  says  Kotlie ;  while  Martineaus  defiiii- 
tion,  in  reference  to  a  chureli,  runs  thus:  'im- 
bued witli  Christ's  spirit,  teaching  His  religion, 
worshipping  His  God  and  Fatlier,  and  accepting 
His  law  of  self-sacrifice.'  Perhaps  the  data  of  the 
NT  would  be  covered  adequately  by  the  declara- 
tion that  the  name  '  Christian '  belongs  to  any  one 
who  can  call  Jesus  '  Lord  '  in  the  sense  of  1  Co  12^ 
See,  further,  tlie  following  article. 

LiTERATrRE  —Besides  the  articles  in  Hastings'  DB  i  pp  3S4- 
386  (Ga\  ford),  and  Encm  B,M.  i.  752-763  (Schmiedel),  the 
Conimeiitanea  on  \<  11-',  .and  Histoiies  of  tht  Vpostnlm  a^^e 
(»  y ),  consultLip"-!        !  '    r  '     '     '      '    '    i     h 

pp  1-78 ,  Carr  in  /  I  k, 

Attsbieitiing  rii  s  <l- 

297  (Enj;  tr  .su    I     I  /  \  /', 

ii.  pp  34      1  i:     I  /  \\    ^liott  ~  note 

in  his/,  I  "        t  ^1    I  M  ) .  Li^htfoot, 

Apo^tnli    /     /         ]  I    I  I      On  the  later 

use  and  fill    tlli     vil  I  (1  v  i,),  p  465  f  ; 

Kattenhii^  h    /' /     n     I    s  i      \\  itkins,  '  Arisf 

Quart  hfiipti  1  ji  47f  ,  Kamsa\ ,  '  fti/yt//  in  houian  Empire 
(Index,  »  1,  ),  banda\  in  Chun.h  limts  (June  21),  1901,  and 
Leslie  Stephen,  An  Agnostic's  Apologijivof  ed  ),  130 

James  RIoffatt. 

CHRISTIANITY  is  the  name  given  to  the  lehyion 
founded  by  Jesus  of  Nazareth,  which  is  professed 
by  more  than  one-fourth  of  the  human  race,  in- 
cluding the  foremost  nations  of  the  world.  As  an 
abstract  name  for  a  fully  developed  religion,  it 
was  not,  and  could  not  be,  in  use  from  the  begin- 
ning. Only  gradually,  as  the  Christian  community 
reached  self-consciousness,  and  more  especially  as 
need  arose  from  without  of  distinguishing  its  ad- 
herents from  those  of  other  religions,  was  a  dis- 
tinctive name  adopted. 

It  is  not  the  object  of  this  article  to  sketch  in 
otitline  tlie  history  of  Christianity,  to  rehearse  it- 
doctrines,  describe  its  triumjihs,  or  vindicate  it- 
claims.  But  in  a  Dictionaiy  of  this  kind  it  seem- 
desirable  to  inquire  into  (1)  the  history  of  the  name 
itself  ;  (2)  the  proper  connotation  of  the  name  and 
the  best  mode  of  ascertaining  it ;  hence  (3)  the 
significance  of  the  changes  which  have  jiassed  over 
Christianity  in  the  process  of  its  development ; 
and  (4)  the  essential  character  of  the  religion 
named  after  Christ  and  portrayed  in  tlie  Gospels. 

i.  History  of  the  namf,.— This  is  fully  dis- 
cussed in  the  preceding  article. 

ii.  Connotation  of  the  name. —The  diffi- 
culties which  arise  when  we  attempt  to  mark  out 
the  correct  connotation  of  the  word  are  obvious, 
and  the  reason  why  some  of  them  are  insuperable 
is  not  far  to  seek.  A  definition  should  be  simple, 
comprehensive,  accurate  ;  whereas  Christianity  is 
a  coraple.\  multiform  jihenomenon,  one  which  it  is 
impossible  to  survey  from  all  sides  at  the  same 
time,  and  accuracy  cannot  be  attained  when  a 
word  is  employed  in  many  difi'erent  senses,  and 
when  that  Avhich  is  to  be  defined  is  regarded  from 
so  many  subjective,  diversified,  and  sometimes  in- 
compatible points  of  view.  The  essence  of  a  great 
liistorical  religion — with  a  record  extending  over 
some  two  thousand  years,  taking  difi'erent  shapes 
in  many  diverse  n.iti.iiKilitirs,  itself  developing 
and  altering  its  Inn-  .nnl  .  Ii:iiacter,  if  not  its  sub- 
stance, in  succt^-M  i  _'  111  I  u  lulls — cannot  easily  be 
summed  up  in  ;i  -.nti  n.,..  Whilst,  if  an  attempt 
be  made  to  describe  that  element  of  permanent 
vitality  and  validity  in  the  religion  which  has  re- 
mained the  same  through  ages  of  growth,  un- 
altered amidst  the  widest  e.xtemal  and  internal 
modifications  and  changes,  the  character  of  such  a 
description  obviously  depends  upon  the  viewpoint 
of  the  observer. 

A  religion  may  be  viewed  from  without  or  from 
within,  and  an  estimate  made  accordingly  either 
of  its  institutions  and  formularies  and  ceremonies, 
or  of  its  dominant  ideas  and  prevailing  iirinciples. 
To  the  Koman  Catholic— who  represents  the  most 


widely  spread  and  influential  of  the  sections  of 
modern  Christianity — Its  essence  consists  in  sub- 
mission to  the  authority  of  a  supematurally  en- 
dowed Church,  to  which,  with  the  Pope  at  its 
head,  the  power  has  been  committed  by  Christ  of 
infallibly  determining  the  Christian  creed,  and  of 
finally  directing  Christian  life  and  worship  in  all 
its  details.  The  Catholic  Church,  according  to 
RIohler  and  the  modern  school,  is  a  prolongation 
of  the  Incarnation.  To  the  Orthodox  Cliurch  <if 
the  East,  the  paramount  claim  of  the  community 
on  the  allegiance  of  the  faithful  depends  on  its 


liavinf'  preserved  with  purity  and  precision  the 
formal  creed,  fixed  more  than  a  thousand  years 
ago,  from  which,  it  is  alleged,  all  other  Christians 
have  more  or  less  seriously  departed.  The  Pro- 
testant regards  his  religion  from  an  entirely  dif- 
ferent standpoint.  He  may  be  of  the  '  evangelical ' 
type,  in  which  case  he  will  probably  define  Chris- 
tianity as  the  religion  of  those  who  have  accepted 
the  authority  of  an  inspired  and  infallible  Bible, 
and  who  trust  for  salvation  to  the  merits  of  the 
death  of  Christ  as  their  atoning  Saviour.  If  he 
claims  to  be  a  '  liberal '  Protestant,  he  will  de- 
scribe Christianity  as  a  life,  not  a  creed,  and 
declare  that  all  attempts  to  define  belief  concern- 
ing the  Person  of  Christ  and  other  details  of 
Christian  doctrine  are  so  many  mischievous  re- 
strictions, which  only  fetter  the  free  thought  and 
action  of  the  truly  emancipated  followers  of  Jesus. 

Under  such  circumstances,  can  any  considerable 
measure  of  agreement  as  to  the  real  essence  of 
Christianity  be  reached,  or  a  truly  scientific  defi- 
nition be  attained  ?  The  acceptance  of  the  super- 
natural authority  of  a  single  community  would 
]iul  an  end  to  all  discussion,  but  those  who  appeal 
111  -mil  ,nitliority  are  not  agreed  amongst  tnem- 
-.  Ki-  As  an  alternative,  it  has  been  usual  of 
laie  to  lall  back  on  history  as  the  sole  possible 
arbiter.  The  historian  can  only  recount  with  as 
much  impartiality  as  possible  the  sequence  of 
events  in  a  long  and  chequered  career,  and  leave 
the  warring  sects  and  parties  to  settle  their  diHer- 
ences  as  to  what  true  Christianity  is,  without 
making  any  attempt  to  judge  lietween  them. 

Both  these  methods— the  purely  dogmatic  and 
the  purely  historical— virtually  give  up  the  pro- 
blem. A  better  course  than  eitlier  may  be  adopted . 
The  historical  method  must  be  employed  at  the 
outset ;  a  careful  induction  must  lay  the  basis  for 
subsequent  deduction  and  generalization.  Chris- 
tianity is  an  organism  jx)ssessing  a  long  and  com- 
plex history,  not  yet  finished.  That  life-histoi-y 
is  better  known  and  understood  now  than  ever, 
from  the  upspringino;  of  the  earliest  germ  onwards, 
and  the  laws  which  have  regulated  its  giowtli  and 
the  principles  operating  in  its  development,  can  be 
determined  in  broad  outline  by  the  scientific  his- 
torian without  much  fear  of  contradiction.  But 
the  analogy  between  the  growth  of  the  Christian 
religion  and  that  of  an  animal  or  vegetable  organ- 
ism in  physical  nature,  fails  in  certain  important 
respects.  '  On  the  one  hand,  the  growth  of  Chris- 
tianity is  not  yet  complete,  the  great  consumma- 
tion is  as  yet  invisible.  On  the  other,  the  origin 
of  the  religion  of  Christ  cannot  be  comjiared  with 
thedeposit  of  a  tiny  ami  iii.ieiiTiiniiatr  ami  almost 
invisible  germ.  Befon-  tla'  |i.i  iml  ■  i'\  i n 'I  liy  the 
NT  writings  had  pa.-Mii.  uhai  iiia.\  1..  .all.-.'l  the 
formative  and  normative  .stage  ul  the  leligiun  was 
complete.  Sufficient  advance  had  been  made  to 
enable  any  critical  student  to  arrive  at  a  standard 
by  which  the  true  character  of  subsequent  develop- 
ments may  be  judged.  Critirisni.  fur  tlie  purpose 
of  determining  the  faiN  ut  lii-ti.iy.  niust  not  be 
excluded  from  any  seienl  ilir  iiii|iiii  \ .  a-  it  \  iituall.y 
is  by  tho.se  who  invoke  (lie  inlallii.le  aiitlmrityof 
u  Church   or  a  Book.      IJut,   on   the  other   hand. 


CHRISTIANITY 


CHRISTIANITY 


criticism  must  not  be  merely  subjective  and  arbi- 
trary, else  religious  truth  is  simply  that  which 
every  man  troweth,  and  Christianity  nothing  more 
than  what  individual  Christians  choose  to  think 
it.  By  a  candid  and  careful  comp.arison  of  the 
religion  in  its  simplicity  and  purity  witli  the  vari- 
ous forms  it  has  assumed  in  the  course  of  centuries 
amongst  various  nations  and  races,  an  answer  may 
be  obtained  to  the  question,  What  is  Christianity  1 
which  is  neither  purely  dogmatic  on  the  one  hand, 
nor  purely  empirical  on  the  other.  As  Dr.  Hort 
said  of  the  Church,  '  The  lesson-book  of  the  Ecclesia 
is  not  a  law-book  but  a  history,'  so  the  history  of 
Christianity  becomes  a  lesson  -  book  for  all  who 
would  understand  its  real  essence. 

The  question  thus  opened  up  is  emphatically 
modern.  As  the  name  '  Christian  '  was  not  given 
till  those  outside  the  pale  of  the  Church  found  it 
necessary  to  differentiate  the  believer  in  Christ 
from  the  adherent  of  other  religions,  so  the  need 
of  a  scientific  definition  of  Christianity  was  never 
felt  by  faith,  nor  could  one  be  formed,  till  the 
standpoint  was  occupied  from  whicli  the  young 
science  of  Comparative  Religion  has  taken  its  rise. 
We  have  therefore  to  ask.  What  was  precisely  the 
nature  of  the  religion  founded  by  Christ  as  recorded 
in  the  Gospels  and  Epistles  ?  Has  it  remained  in 
substance  the  same  without  fundamental  change  ? 
If,  as  is  obvious,  it  has  markedly  altered  during  a 
long  period  of  growth  and  expansion,  has  its  de- 
velopment been  legitimate  or  illegitimate  ?  That 
is,  has  the  original  type  been  steadfastly  main- 
tained, or  has  it  been  seriously  perverted?  Is  a 
norm  fairly  ascertainable  and  a  return  to  type 
from  time  to  time  possible? 

iii.  Changes  in  Christianity  in  the  course 
OF  ITS  development.  —  During  the  lifetime  of 


Jesus,   discipleship  was  largely  of  the  nature  of 
personal  attachment ;  it  implied  confi 
by  the  teaching,  the  ( 
the  Master.      Even  d 


lidence  created 
works  of 
however, 
not  only  was  there  room  Un  ivll,'\iuii  and  inquiry 
to  arise,  but  eager  inquiry  was  mrMtaljle.  The 
appearance  of  a  unique  personality  who  spoke 
as  no  other  man  sjiake  and  wrought  works  such 
as  none  other  man  did,  irresistibly  suggested  the 
question,  'Who  art  thou,  what  sayest  thou  of 
thyself?'  Jesus  Himself  occasionally  prompted 
such  inquiry,  and  was  not  satisfied  with  an  un- 
defaned  loyalty.  Once,  at  least,  He  i^ointedly  asked 
His  disciples,  'Who  say  ye  that  I  am?'  (Mt  W^). 
Again  and  again  in  the  course  of  His  ministry  a 
sifting  took  place,  as  the  Master  made  more  exact- 
ing demands  upon  the  allegiance  of  His  followers, 
and  showed  that  a  cleavage  must  take  place  be- 
tween those  who  really  understood  the  drift  of  His 
teaching  and  were  prepared  at  all  costs  to  obey  it, 
and  those  who  did  not.  The  tests  which  were 
applied  were  for  the  most  part  practical  in  their 
character,  '  Whosoever  doth  not  bear  his  own  cross 
and  come  after  me,  cannot  be  my  disciple '  (Lk  14-'). 
But  the  '  offences '  which  caused  many  to  forsake 
Him  as  a  teacher  were  often  occasioned  by  His 
departure  from  traditional  and  familiar  teaching. 
His  assertion  of  superiority  to  the  highest  Jewish 
law  (Mt  S^i-is),  and  His  claims  to  a  unique  know- 
ledge of  the  Fatlier  (Mt  11=')  and  such  a  relation  to 
Him,  that  His  disciples  were  called  on  to  believe 
not  only  the  words  that  He  spoke,  but  in  Himself. 
Christ's  ministry  ended,  however,— and, considering 
its  brief  and  tragic  character,  it  was  liound  to  end, 
—without  any  clearly  formulated  answer  to  the 
question  as  to  what  constituted  true  discipleship, 
and  how  His  followers  were  to  be  permanently  dis- 
tinguished from  the  rest  of  their  nation  and  the 
world. 

The  question  now  arises,  whether  the  normative 
period  of  the  religion  ends  with  tlie  death  of  Christ. 


May  it  be  said  that  when  His  1 


fe  is  over,  the  work 
I'inplctp.  Ili>  words 
IM,   ,,r.,,,„un,l,.d-it 


jeen  spoken,  His  ri-lii^mn 
remains  that  His  follow. /i^  olny  Hi-  tiarhin"? 
This  position  has  often  been  taken,  and  is  usually 
adopted  by  those  who  reject  the  supernatural 
element  in  Christianity.  Lessing  is  the  father  of 
those  who  in  modern  times  think  it  desirable  to 
return  from  '  the  Christian  religion  '  to  'the  religion 
of  Jesus.'  Harnack  on  the  whole  favours  this 
view,  as  when  he  urges  that  '  the  Gospel,  as  Jesus 
proclaimed  it,  has  to  do  with  the  Father  only, 
and  not  with  the  Son';  or  again,  that  it  is  '  tlie 
Fatherhood  of  God  applied  to  the  whole  of  life— an 
inner  union  with  God's  will  and  God's  kingdom, 
and  a  joyous  certainty  of  the  possession  of  eternal 
blessings  and  protection  from  evil.'  But  he  else- 
where rightly  admits  that  '  a  complete  answer  to 
the  question,  What  is  Christianity  ?  is  impossible 
so  long  as  we  are  restricted  to  Jesus  Christ's  teach- 
ing alone.'  The  more  powerful  a  personality  is, 
'  the  less  can  the  sum -total  of  what  he  is  be  known 
only  by  what  he  himself  says  and  does' ;  we  must 
therefore  include  in  our  estimate  the  effects  pro- 
duced in  his  followers  and  the  views  taken  by  men 
of  his  work.     See  art.  BACK  to  Chrlst. 

Further,  if  the  miracles  of  Christ,  and  especially 
tlie  great  miracle  of  His  Resurrection,  be  accepted, 
the  wliole  point  of  view  is  changed.  The  disciples, 
during  the  short  period  of  His  ministry,  were  slow 
and  dull  scliolars  ;  only  after  the  outpouring  of  the 
.Spirit  were  they  aVile  to  understand  who  their 
Master  was  and  what  He  had  done.  Hence  the 
Church  with  a  true  instinct  included  the  Acts  and 
the  Epistles  in  the  Canon,  as  well  as  the  Gospels, 
and  to  the  whole  of  these  documents  we  must  turn 
if  we  would  understand  what  '  Christianity '  meant 
to  the  Apostles  and  the  first  generation  or  two  of 
those  who  followed  Christ.  Without  entering  into 
controversy  such  as  would  arise  over  exact  defini- 
tions, we  may  say  broadly  tliat  Christ  became  in 
thought,  as  He  had  always  been  in  practice,  the 
centre  of  His  own  religion.  It  circled  round  the 
Person,  not  so  much  of  the  Father  as  of  the  Son, 
yet  the  Son  as  revealing  the  Father.  Personal 
relation  to  Christ  continued  to  be— what  it  had 
been  in  the  days  of  His  Hesh,  but  more  consciously 
and  completely — the  all-important  feature  in  the 
new  religion.  Significance  attached  not  so  much 
to  what  Christ  said— though  the  authority  of  His 
words  was  supreme  and  absolute— as  to  what  He 
was  and  what  He  did.  His  death  and  resurrection 
were  seen  to  possess  a  special  significance  for  the 
religious  life  of  the  individual  and  the  community, 
and  thus  fiom  the  time  of  St.  Paul  and  the  Apostles 
onwards,  but  not  till  then,  the  Christian  religion 
was  fairly  complete  in  its  outline  and  ready  for 
promulgation  in  the  world. 

But  it  is  clear  that  the  real  significance  of  some 
features  in  the  new  religion  could  be  brought  out 
only  in  the  course  of  history.  The  first  great  crisis 
wliich  tested  the  infant  Church  arose  over  the 
question  whetlier  Christianity  was  to  be  a  reformed 
and  spiritualized  Judaism  or  a  universal  religion, 
for  the  wliole  world  and  for  all  time.  The  con- 
troversy recorded  in  Ac  15,  aspects  of  which 
emerge  so  frequently  in  St.  Paul's  letters,  was 
fundamental  and  vital  ;  the  very  existence  of 
Christianity  was  at  stake.  It  was  chiefly  to  tlie 
Apostle  Paul  that  the  Chureli  owed  licr  hardly  won 
freedom  from  the  bonds  (.f  .le«isli  .■eiemonial  law 
and  the  national  and  ielii;iinis  limitai  ion-  i.  leu  tilled 
with  it.  Henceforward  in  rini-i  h.i-.  t,,  lie  neither 
Jew  nor  Greek,  barbaiiaii,  S.ylliiaii,  lieiid  nor 
free,  but  He  Himself  was  all  and  in  all. 

Tlie  next  two  changes  are  not  so  clearly  defin- 
able, though  they  are  liardlj'  less  important  and 
far-reaching.      They    were    never    brought    to    a 


320 


CHRISTIANITY 


CHRISTIANITY 


definite  issue  before  a  council  or  assembly,  ami 
they  do  not  come  within  the  limits  of  the  NT 
period.  None  the  less  they  were  fundamental  in 
their  character.  They  concern  respectively  creed 
and  practice,  doctrine  and  organization.  In  the 
first  flush  of  enthusiasm  which  belongs  to  tlie 
earliest  stage  of  a  religious  movement,  the  emo- 
tional— which  fneans  very  largely  the  motive  or 
dynamical— element  is  both  pure  and  powerful. 
Belief,  worship,  spontaneous  fulfilment  of  a  higli 
ethical  standard,  religious  assurance  and  confident 
triumph  over  the  world— all  seem  to  flow  forth 
easily  and  naturally  from  the  fresh  springs  of  a 
new  life.  But,  as  man  is  now  constituted,  this 
happy  condition  cannot  last  very  Ion".  A  stage 
succeeds  in  whieli  the  white-hot  metal  cools  and 
must  take  hard  and  definite  shape.  Faitli  passes 
into  a  formulated  creed,  the  spirit  of  free,  spon- 
taneous worship  shrinks  within  the  limits  of 
reverently  ordered  forms,  the  general  sense  of 
brotherhood  narrows  down  into  the  ordered  rela- 
tionships of  a  constituted  society,  charismatic 
gifts  are  exchanged  for  the  privileges  whicli 
belong  to  certain  defined  ranks  and  orders  of 
clerpy ;  and,  when  the  whole  process  is  over, 
whilst  the  religion  may  remain  the  same  in 
appearance,  and  to  a  great  extent  in  character,  it 
is  nevertheless  seriously  changed.  In  Christianity 
such  processes  of  development  were  proceeding, 
gradually  but  on  the  whole  rapidly,  during  the 
latter  half  of  the  2nd  and  the  opening  of  the  Srd 
century.  By  the  middle  of  the  3rd  century  the 
transmutation  was  well-nigh  complete. 

If  at  this  stage  tlie  question,  What  is  Christi- 
anity? were  asked,  a  twofold  answer  would  be 
returned.  So  far  as  its  intellectual  aspects  are 
concerned,  the  substance  of  the  Cliristian  faith  is 
sumiiied  up  in  certain  forms  of  words  accepted  and 
accounted  orthodox  by  the  Church.  So  far  as 
external  position  and  status  are  concerned,  the 
test  of  a  man's  Cliristianity  lies  in  his  association 
with  a  definitely  constituted  community  known  as 
the  Church,  possessing  an  organization  of  its  own, 
wliich,  with  every  decade,  becomes  more  fixed  and 
formal,  less  elastic  in  its  constitution,  and  more 
exacting  in  its  demands  ui)on  those  who  claim  to 
be  regarded  as  true  Christians. 

Such  changes  as  these  are  in  tliemselves  not  to 
be  regarded  as  marking  either  an  essential  advance 
or  a  necessary  retrogression.  All  depends  on  the 
way  in  wliich  "they  are  carried  out.  In  liuman  life, 
as  we  know  it,  they  are  inevitable.  The  mollusc 
must  secrete  its  own  shell  if  it  is  to  live  in  the 
midst  of  a  given  environment.  At  the  same  time, 
in  the  history  of  a  religion,  such  a  process  is  critical 
in  the  extreme.  The  loss  of  enthusiasm  and  elas- 
ticity may  be  counterbalanced  by  increased  con- 
solidation, by  the  gain  of  a  greater  power  of 
resisting  attacks  and  retaining  adherents.  If  the 
complaint  is  made  that  the  expression  of  belief  has 
become  stiff  and  formal,  the  rejily  is  obvious  that 
genuine  faitli  cannot  long  remain  vague  and  inde- 
terminati".  Thc^  Christian  iini^t  kiiuw  «h:it  is 
inijilifd  ill  wmshipi.in^;  Ch;  i-t  ,i-  l.-iJ,  mn-t  learn 
the  iiK-aiiin-  ..f  the  biipti-iiial    IoniM,l;i ,  .niil  must 

of  self-preservation  must  impose  conditions  of 
membership  and  translate  abstract  principles  into 
definite  codes  and  prescriptions.  If  a  community 
is  to  exist  in  the  presence  of  a  hostile  world,  or  to 
do  its  own  work  well  as  its  numbers  multiply, 
it  must  organize  ;  and  thus  ecclesiastical  orders, 
rules,  and  formulre  inevitably  arise. 

But  the  motle  in  which  such  processes  are  carried 
out  varies  considerably.  Tlie  formulation  and  con- 
solidation may  be  inefficiently  done,  in  wliicli  case 
the  young  community  is  in  danger  of  falling  to 
pieces  like  a  rope  of  sand.     Ur  tlie  organization 


may  be  excessive,  in  which  case  formalism  and 
fossilization  set  in.  One  of  the  chief  dangers 
arises  from  the  influx  of  unworthy  or  half-hearted 
members,  those  with  whom  religion  is  a  tradition, 
not  a  living  personal  energy.  '  When  those  who 
liave  laid  hold  upon  the  faith  as  great  spoil  are 
joined  by  cro\Vds  of  others  who  wrap  it  round  them 
like  an  outer  garment,  a  revolution  always  occurs.' 
And  especially  when  at  such  an  epoch  it  is  sought 
to  define  the  essentials  of  a  religion,  there  is  the 
utmost  danger  lest  secondary  elements  should  be 
confused  with  the  primary,  lest  an  orthodox  creed 
should  be  substituted  for  a  living  faith,  and  out- 
ward conformity  with  human  prescriptions  take 
the  place  of  personal  allegiance  to  a  Divine  and 
living  Lord. 

Whatever  be  tliought  of  the  way  in  which  this 
all-important  change  was  effected  in  the  first 
instance,  —  that  is  to  say,  the  transition  from 
Christianity  viewed  as  a  life  to  Christianity 
viewed  as  a  system  of  dogmatic  belief  and  ecclesi- 
astical organization,  —  few  will  deny  that  before 
Ion"  the  alteration  was  so  great  that  it  may  be 
said  the  religion  itself  was  transformed.  By  the 
orthodox  Koman  Catholic  this  transformation  is 
considered  to  be  Divinely  ordered ;  the  process  is 
regarded  as  one  of  steady  advance  and  improve- 
ment—as a  perfect  child  might  pass  into  an  equally 
admirable  youth  and  man.  According  to  Newman's 
theory,  the  original  germs  of  doctrine  and  worship 
were  developed  normally  and  legitimately  as 
determined  by  the  criteria  lie  specifies— Preserva- 
tion of  type,  Continuity  of  Principle,  Power  of 
assimilation.  Logical  sequence,  and  the  rest. 
Loisy,  who  is  severely  critical  of  the  documents 
of  the  NT,  holds  the  same  view  of  the  development 
of  an  infallible  Church.  To  the  eyes  of  others  the 
change  ett'ccted  between  the  2nd  and  the  6th 
centuries  appears  to  be  one  of  gradual  but  steady 
degeneration.  In  their  view  a  living  religion  has 
hardened  into  a  technical  theology,  vital  union 
with  Christ  has  passed  into  submission  to  the 
ordinances  of  a  fast  deteriorating  Church,  and 
the  happy  fellowship  of  believers  in  a  common 
salvation  and  the  enjoyment  of  a  new  life  has 
almost  disappeared  under  the  lieavy  bondage  of 
ceremonial  observances  and  ecclesiastical  absolut- 
ism. 

The  substitution  of  the  worship  of  the  Virgin 
Mary  as  an  intercessor  with  her  Divine  Son  for 
reverent  intercourse  with  Christ  Himself ;  the 
offering  of  the  sacrifice  of  the  Mass  by  an  offici- 
ating priest  for  the  benefit  of  the  living  and  the 
dead,  instead  of  a  simple  observance  of  communion 
with  Christ  and  fellow- disciples  at  the  Lord's 
Table ;  the  obtaining  of  absolution  only  after 
private  confession  to  a  priest  Divinely  appointed 
to  dispense  it,  in  place  of  free  and  direct  forgive- 
ness granted  to  the  penitent  believer  in  Christ, — 
changes  like  these  made  in  a  religion  are  not  slight 
and  superficial.  To  some  they  represent  a  transi- 
tion from  crude  infancy  to  vigorous  maturity  ;  to 
others  they  indicate  deep-seated  degeneration  and 
the  utter  perversion  of  a  pure  and  spiritual  re- 
ligious faitli.  An  or^'anism  in  process  of  growth 
depends  upon  its  enviruiitnent  without,  as  well  as 
its  own  living  energies  within.  The  history  of  the 
Christian  Church  does  not  present  a  coniiilete 
parallel  to  this.  No  true  Christian  can  believe 
either  that  it  was  left  to  a  cliance  current  of 
events,  or  that  it  was  simply  determined  from 
without  by  natural  causes.  But  the  external 
factors  which  largely  influenced  the  development 
of  Christianity  —  Jewish  beliefs  and  precedents, 
(ireek  philosophy  and  intellectual  habitudes, 
Koman  polity  and  law,  the  superstitious  ideas  and 
observances  of  paganism  —  must  be  taken  into 
account  by  those  vAio  are  studying  the  nature  of 


CHRISTIANITY 


CHRISTIANITY 


321 


the  change  which  came  over  Christianity  in  the 
first  thousand  years  of  its  history. 

The  point  at  issue  in  the  16th  cent,  between 
Roman  Catholics  and  Protestants,  one  which  still 
divides  Christendom,  concerned  the  real  nature  of 
this  development.  Had  the  growth  of  fifteen 
hundred  years  in  doctrine,  worship,  and  organiza- 
tion simply  made  explicit  what  was  implicit  in 
the  New  Testament ;  or  were  the  accretions  to  the 
original  faith  excrescences,  exaggerations,  or  more 
serious  corruptions;  and  how  was  a  line  to  be 
drawn  between  false  and  true  ?  The  Reformation 
was  a  protest  against  abuses  which  had  become 
ingrained  in  Catholicism.  Tlie  need  of  '  reform  in 
head  and  members'  had  been  felt  and  acknow- 
ledged long  before,  and  only  when  repeated  efforts 
to  secure  it  peaceably  had  proved  futile  was  it 
seen  that  a  violent  cataclysm  like  that  brought 
about  by  Luther  was  necessary  before  efiectual 
improvement  could  be  attained.  The  Reformers 
claimed  to  be  returning  to  original  principles— to 
the  New  Testament  instead  of  the  Church  ;  to 
justification  by  faith  instead  of  salvation  by 
baptism,  absolution,  and  the  Mass ;  and  to  direct 
acknowledgment  of  the  Headship  of  Christ  instead 
of  blind  submission  to  the  edicts  of  His  vicar  upon 
earth.  Luther,  who  had  intended  only  to  remove 
.some  obvious  abuses  which  disfigured  the  creed 
and  practice  of  the  Church  he  loved,  found  himself 
cutting  at  the  very  roots  of  ecclesiastical  authority 
and  institutional  religion.  But,  consciously  or  un- 
consciously, the  movement  of  which  he  was  partly 
the  originator,  partly  the  organ  and  servant,  meant 
a  resolute  efiort  to  return  to  the  faith  and  spirit  of 
primitive  Christianity. 

This  efiort  was  not  final,  of  course.  It  is  easy 
now  to  condemn  Luther's  procedure  as  illogical 
and  indefensible,  to  say  that  he  should  either  have 
gone  further  or  not  so  far.  Doubtless  the  result 
of  the  conflict  between  Romanism  and  Protestant- 
ism in  the  16th  cent,  was  not  ultimate  :  the  issues 
raised  by  Luther  went  deeper  than  he  intended, 
but  they  were  not  deep  and  far-reaching  enough. 
To  every  generation  and  to  every  century  its 
own  task.  But  the  whole  Reformation  movement 
showed  that  Christianity  as  a  religion  possessed 
remarkable  recuperative  power  ;  that  the  organism 
could  throw  off  a  considerable  portion  of  what 
seemed  its  very  substance,  not  only  without  injury 
to  its  life,  but  with  marvellous  increase  to  its 
vigour ;  and  that  the  essence  of  the  religion  did 
not  lie  where  the  Roman  Catholic  Church  had 
sought  to  place  it.  Subsequent  history  has  con- 
firmed this.  '  Evangelical  revivals,'  great  mis- 
sionary enterprises,  remarkable  extensions  of  the 
old  religion  in  new  lands  and  under  new  con- 
ditions, unexpected  manifestations  of  new  features 
and  resuscitation  of  pristine  energies,  have  during 
the  last  two  or  three  centuries  illustrated  afresh 
the  same  power  of  recovery  and  spiritual  reinforce- 
ment, and  raised  afresh  the  question  as  to  what 
constitutes  the  essence  of  a  religion  which  is  so 
full  of  vitality  and  so  capable  of  developing  from 
within  unanticipated  and  apparently  inexhaustible 
energies.  The  Christianity  of  to-day  embraces 
a  multitude  of  systems  and  organizations,  it  in- 
cludes most  varied  creeds  and  cults,  it  influences 
societies  and  civilizations  that  are  worlds  apart, 
and  the  (juestion  is  perpetually  recurring  whether 
there  be  indeed  one  spirit  and  aim  pervading  the 
whole,  and  if  so,  where  it  lies  and  what  it  is. 

This  question  becomes  the  more  pressing  when 
the  future  is  contemplated.  Many  are  prepared 
for  still  more  striking  developments  in  the  20th 
century.  The  spectacle  of  two  or  three  great 
historical  Churches  on  the  one  hand  preserving 
the  kind  of  stability  which  is  gained  by  outward 
conformity  to  one  doctrinal  creed  and  ecclesiastical 

VOL.  I.— 21 


system,  and,  on  the  other,  an  almost  endless  diver- 
sity of  sects  and  denominations,  with  a  tendency 
to  fissiparous  multiplication— cannot  represent  lli'e 
T^Xos,  the  ideal,  the  goal  of  the  Christian  religion. 
Christianity  cannot  be  identified  with  one  Church, 
or  flith  all  the  Churches.  Whilst  many  of  these 
are  enfeebled  by  age,  the  religion  itself  is  young 
with  a  perpetually  renewed  vigour,  and  not  for 
centuries  has  it  shown  more  certain  signs  of 
freshly  budding  energy.  Each  new  age  brings 
new  problems.  As  they  arise,  the  power  and 
permanence  of  a  religion  are  tested  by  its  ability 
to  grapple  with  and  to  solve  them,  and  by  its 
success  or  failure  is  it  judged.  The  problems  of 
the  present  and  the  near  future  are  mainly  social, 
and  the  complaint  is  freely  made  that  Christianity 
has  proved  itself  unable  to  cope  with  them.  But 
the  principles  and  capabilities  of  a  religion  caimot 
be  gauged  by  those  of  its  representatives  and  ex- 
ponents at  a  particular  epoch.  The  assailants  of 
Christianity  as  it  is  are  often  the  allies  of  Chris- 
tianity as  it  should  be  and  will  be.  History  has 
too  frequently  suggested  the  question  which  the 
poet  asks  of  the  suffering  Christ — '  Say,  was  not 
this  Thy  passion,  to  foreknow  |  In  death's  worst 
hour  the  works  of  Christian  men?'  What  new 
regenerative  influences,  swaying  the  whole  of 
society  with  wider  and  freer  quickening  power, 
will  be  developed  in  the  20tli  cent,  none  can  tell. 
But  the  present  state  of  Christendom,  no  less  than 
a  survey  of  two  thousand  years  of  history,  is  anew 
compelling  men  to  inquire.  What,  then,  is  the 
essence  of  Christianity  ? 

iv.  Essential  character  of  Christianity. — 
The  interpretation  of  the  facts  thus  hastily 
sketched  appears  to  be  this.  Christianity  in  the 
concrete  has  been  far  from  perfect,  that  is  ob- 
vious ;  its  serious  and  widespread  corruptions 
have  often  proved  a  scandal  and  a  stumbling- 
block.  But  neither  has  its  history  manifested  a 
mere  perversion  of  a  great  and  noble  ideal.  Again 
and  again  in  the  darkest  hour  light  has  shone 
forth,  and  at  the  lowest  ebb  a  new  flood-tide  of 
energy  has  arisen,  making  it  possible  to  distin- 
guish the  real  religion  in  its  purity  and  power 
from  its  actual  embodiment  in  decadent  and  un- 
worthy representatives. 

What  we  see  in  Christian  history,  as  in  tlie 
personal  history  of  Christ  upon  earth,  is  the  pro- 
gressive development  of  a  Divine  Thought  unfold- 
ing itself  in  spite  of  virulent  opposition,  under 
pressure  of  extreme  difficulties,  struggling  against 
the  misrepresentations  of  false  friends  and  imprint- 
ing its  likeness  upon  most  unpromising  and  un- 
satisfactory material.  When  it  first  appeared  on 
the  earth,  embodied  in  the  Person  and  tlie  Work, 
as  well  as  the  teaching,  of  Jesus  Christ,  the  Divine 
Idea  shone  with  the  brightness  of  a  new  sun  in 
the  spiritual  firmament.  It  was  not  developed  out 
of  Judaism,  the  Jews  were  its  bitterest  opponents  : 
it  was  not  indebted  to  Greek  philosophic  thought 
or  to  Roman  political  science,  though  afterwards 
it  made  use  of  and  powerfully  influenced  both  ; 
it  had  nothing  in  common  with  the  current  super- 
stitions of  Oriental  religions  ;  it  did  not  owe  its 
origin  to  some  cunningly  devised  religious  syncret- 
ism, such  as  was  not  uncommon  at  the  time  when 
Christianity  began  to  infuse  life  into  the  declining 
Roman  Empire.  A  new  idea  of  God,  of  man,  and 
of  the  true  reconciliation  of  man  to  God,  formed 
the  core  and  nucleus  of  the  new  faith.  In  the 
earliest  records  this  idea  appears  as  the  germ  of  a 
nascent  religion,  a  sketch  in  outline  wliicli  rt'iiiains 
to  be  filled  up.  In  the  lii^lciy  ..f  „inr|.,.,,  run- 
turies  its  likeness  is  to  lir  ili^'MiirJ  .ml;,  ,■!>  ;tn 
image  reflected  in  a  dimly  Imini^li..!    iiiii",i    in 

a  troubled  and  turbid  j I.     N<'nr   tlir    ^ --•   Ibe 

doiuinant  idea  remains  ;  as  St.  Puul  eNprc^iscs  it, 


322 


CHRISTIANITY 


CHRISTIANITY 


the  light  of  tlie  knowledge  of  the  glory  of  God  is 
seen  in  a  face— the  face  of  Jesus  Christ  (2  Co  4"). 
Lecky,  writing  simply  as  a  liistorian  of  European 
morals,  ilescribes  it  thus  [Hist.  Eur,  Mor.^^  (1894) 
ii.  8f.)- 

'  It  was  reserved  for  Christianity  to  present  to  the  world  an 
ideal  character,  which  through  all  the  changes  of  eighteen  cen- 
turies has  inspired  the  hearts  of  men  with  an  impassioned  love  ; 
has  shown  itself  capable  of  actnn;  on  all  ages,  nations,  tempera- 
ments, and  conditions  ;  has  been  not  only  the  highest  patteru  of 
virtue  but  the  strongest  incentive  to  its  practice ;  and  has  exer- 
cised so  deep  an  influence  that  it  may  be  truly  said  that  the 
simple  record  of 
*  5  regenerate  and 


life  has  done 
;ind  than  all  the  disquisitions  of 
philosophers,  and  all  the  exhortations  of  moralists.' 

Whether  the  spectacle  of  an  ideal  human  char- 
acter alone  has  done  this  remains  to  be  seen,  but 
it  is  possible  with  care  to  distinguish  between  the 
glory  of  the  Divine  Thought  and  the  iniperfect 
medium  through  which  its  light  has  filtered.  We 
see  truth  manifested  amidst  crudities  and  insin- 
cerities, amidst  falsehoods  which  are  bad  and 
half-truths  which  are  often  worse ;  a  pure  and 
lofty  character  struggling,  mostly  in  vain,  for 
adequate  expression ;  a  kingdom  not  come  but 
coming,  of  which  we  cannot  say  '  Lo  here '  or  '  Lo 
there,'  for  it  floats  only  in  the  midst  of  men  as 
they  move,  in  their  hearts  as  they  ponder  and  feel 
and  hope— not  as  an  achievement,  not  as  a  posses- 
sion, but  as  a  magnificent  conception,  an  earnest 
longing,  and  a  never  fully  attained,  but  ever  to  be 
attained,  ideal. 

In  wliat,  then,  lies  the  perennial  and  imperish- 
able essence  of  the  ever  changing  phenomenon 
called  Christianity?  The  unknown  writer  of  the 
Ejiis-f/r  fn  n;„r„i^f'ux  wrote  in  the  2nd  century— 

'Wli,  III.'  body,  this  the  Christians  are  in  the 

worM       [  u  I  through  all  the  members  of  the  body, 

and  I  lii-  111-  III  i^ii  the  divers  cities  of  the  world.  The 
soul  IkiMi  iL-  .i:,  ,J'.  .11  Lhe  body,  and  yet  it  is  not  of  the  body. 
So  Christians  have  their  abode  in  the  world,  and  yet  they  are 
not  of  the  world.' 

If  for  '  Christians'  we  read  '  Christianity,'  where 
is  tlie  soul,  or  vital  spark,  of  the  religion  to  be 
found  ?  Nearly  all  are  agreed  that  the  centre  of 
the  Christian  religion  is,  in  some  sense,  the  Person 
of  its  Founder.  De  Pressense  closes  an  article 
on  the  subject  by  saying,  '  Christianity  is  Jesus 
Christ.'  But  it  is  the  sense  in  which  such  words 
are  to  be  interpreted  that  is  all-important.  The 
relation  of  Christ  to  the  religion  called  by  His 
name  is  certainly  not  that  of  Moses  to  Judaism, 
or  that  of  Confucius  to  Confucianism.  But 
neitlier  does  He  stand  related  to  Christianity  as 
do  Buddlia  and  Mohammed  to  the  religions  named 
after  them.  Not  as  a  prophet  of  Nazareth,  a  re- 
ligious and  ethical  teacher,  however  lofty  and 
inspiring,  does  Christ  stand  at  the  centre  of 
history.  As  Dr.  Fairbaim  has  said,  '  It  is  not 
Jesus  of  Nazareth  who  has  so  powerfully  entered 
into  history  ;  it  is  the  deified  Christ  who  has  been 
believed,  loved,  and  obeyed  as  the  Saviour  of  the 
world.  ...  If  the  doctrine  of  the  Person  of  Clirist 
were  explicable  as  the  mere  mythical  apotheosis  of 
Jesus  of  Nazareth,  it  Avould  become  the  most  in- 
solent and  fateful  anomaly  in  history.'  And  as 
the  secret  is  not  to  be  found  in  the  ethics,  neither 
does  it  lie  in  the  'religion  of  Jesus.'  Harnack  is 
the  modern  representative  of  those  who  take  this 
view  when  he  says  : 

'Till  ''!itl  il  III  r.lljioii  is  something  simple  and  sublime;  it 
ninaii,  '      If  thing  only  :  eternal  life  in  the  midst 

ofliiii'  I  iLiid  under  the  eyes  of  God.' 

That  i-  :i  liiM  lii  linitiori  of  Theism,  not  of  the 
historical  Christianity  which  has  done  so  much  to 
regenerate  the  world.  Nor  can  the  essence  of  any 
religion  be  said  to  lie  in  its  life,  if  by  that  be  meant 
temper  and  conduct.  These  are  fruits,  and  by  their 
healthiness  and  abundance  we  judge  of  the  sound- 


ness and  vigour  of  the  tree.  But  the  life  of  a  re- 
ligion in  the  proper  sense  of  the  word  lies  far  deeper. 

The  chief  modern  definitions  of  Christianity 
have  Been  ably  summarized  and  reviewed  by 
Professor  Adams  Brown,  who,  in  his  Essence  of 
Christianity,  has  produced  an  illuminating  study 
in  the  history  of  definition  which  goes  far  to  solve 
the  problem  before  us.  Schleiermacher,  Hegel,  and 
Ritsehl  are  epoeh-markinw  names  in  the  history  of 
Christianity  during  the  last  century,  and  their 
attempts  at  definition  probably  meet  better  than 
most  others  the  conditions  demanded  by  modern 
inquirers.  Schleiermacher's  view  is  thus  summed 
up  by  Professor  Adams  Brown — 

•Christianity  ia  that  historic  religion,  founded  by  Jesus  of 
Nazareth  and  ijaving  its  bond  of  union  in  the  redemption  medi- 
ated by  Him,  in  which  the  true  relation  between  God  and  man 
has  for  the  first  time  found  complete  and  adequate  expression, 
and  which,  throughout  all  the  changes  of  intellectual  and  social 
environment  which  the  centuries  have  brought,  still  continues 
to  maintain  itself  as  the  religion  best  worthy  of  the  allegiance 
of  thoughtful  and  earnest  men.' 

Hegel  represents  Christianity  as  the  absolute 
religion,  because  in  it  is  to  be  seen  worked  out  in 
liistoiy  the  eternal  dialectic  immanent  in  the  Being 
of  God  Himself,  the  ultimate  principle  of  the  God- 
head, the  Father,  being  revealed  in  the  Son,  the 
principle  of  difference,  returning  again  in  the  syn- 
thesis of  redemption.  Finally,  in  tlie  Holy  Spirit 
Father  and  Son  recognize  their  unity,  and  God  as 
Spirit  comes  to  full  consciousness  of  Himself  in 
history.  Christianity,  he  says,  is  essentially  the 
religion  of  the  Spirit.  Ritsehl  lays  more  stress  on 
the  idea  of  the  Kingdom  of  God,  but  he  follows  in 
the  steps  of  Schleiermacher  when  he  defines  Chris- 
tianity as— 

'  the  monotheistic,  completely  spiritual,  and  ethical  religion, 
which,  based  on  the  life  of  its  author  as  Redeemer  and  as 
founder  of  the  kingdom  of  God,  consists  in  the  freedom  of  the 
children  of  God,  involves  the  impulse  to  conduct  from  the 
motive  of  love,  aims  at  the  moral  organization  of  mankind,  and 
grounds  blessedness  on  the  relation  of  sonship  to  God,  as  well 
as  on  the  kingdom  of  GoA'  (Jtistif.  and  Reamc,  Eng.  tr.  p.  13). 

Domer  is  one  of  the  best  representatives  of  the 
many  who  lay  chief  stress  upon  the  Incarnation 
as  the  'central  idea  and  fundamental  fact'  of 
Christianity,  and  who  find  in  mediation  through 
incarnation  its  archetypal  thought.  Professor 
Adams  Brown  himself  considers  the  chief  diffi- 
culty in  framing  a  definition  of  Christianity  to  He 
in  the  attempt  to  reconcile  its  historical  and  its 
absolute  character,  its  natural  and  its  supernatural 
elements— the  two  contrasted  tendencies  which 
mark  respectively  (1)  its  resemblance  to  other 
faiths,  and  its  realization  of  their  imperfect 
ideals ;  and  (2)  its  ditierence  from  all  other  re- 
ligions as  the  one  direct  and  supreme  revelation 
from  God  Himself.  His  own  solution  may  be 
indicated  in  the  following  sentences  :— 

'  Christianity,  as  modern  Christian  thought  understands  it,  is 
the  religion  of  Divine  sonship  and  human  brotherhood  revealed 
and  realized  through  Jesus  Christ.  As  such  it  is  the  fulfilment 
anc  completion  of  all  earlier  forms  of  religion,  and  the  appointed 
means  for  the  redemption  of  mankind  through  the  realization 
of  the  kingdom  of  God.  Its  central  figure  is  Jesus  Christ,  who 
is  not  only  the  revelation  of  the  divine  ideal  for  man,  hut  also, 
through  the  transforming  influence  whi<'h  He  exerts  over  His 
followers,  the  most  powerful  means  of  realizing  that  ideal 
among  men.  The  possession  in  Christ  of  the  supreme  revelation 
of  God's  love  and  power  constitutes  the  distinctive  mark  of 
Christianity,  and  justifies  its  claim  to  be  the  final  religion" 
{Essence  of  Christianity,  309). 

These  definitions  are  cumbrous,  and  no  one  of 
them  is  fully  satisfactory.  It  is,  however,  clear 
that  Christianity  can  never  be  properly  defined  if 
it  is  regarded  merely  as  a  philosophy,  a  system  of 
ideas  ;  or  as  a  code  of  ethics,  pun  iilhi-  u  standard 
of  conduct;  or  as  an  ecili -^n-^i  ir:il  ^y-tt-in,  em- 
bodying   rites    and    cereiiK.iin-    of    \m  r-hip   and 

institutions  which  are  undii-t 1  to  !"■  (channels 

of  salvation  for  mankind.     It   is  a  religion,  that 


CHRISTIANITY 


CHRISTIANITY 


is,  its  root  or  spring  lies  in  the  relations  which  it 
reveals  and  establishes  between  God  and  men.  It 
was  the  interpretation  of  the  Person  of  Christ,  the 
significance  found  in  Him  and  His  work,  that 
changed  the  whole  view  of  God  and  of  human 
history,  first  for  the  Apostles  and  afterwards  for 
all  who  followed  them.  Clnist  was  to  them 
doubtless  a  Lawgiver,  His  command  was  final. 
He  was  also  an  Example,  perfect  and  flawless,  the 
imitation  of  whom  formed  tlie  highest  conceivable 
standard  of  life.  But  unless  He  had  been  much 
more  than  this,  the  Cliristianity  of  history  would 
never  have  come  into  being  ;  and  if  it  had  had  no 
other  gospel  for  men  than  tlie  most  sublime  human 
prophet  could  bring,  it  would  not  have  regenerated 
mankind  as  it  has  done. 

A  religion  may  be  described  objectively  or  sub- 
jectively, from  without  or  from  within.  As  an 
objective  religion  in  the  world,  Christianity  is  an 
ethical  and  spiritual  monotheism  of  a  high  type, 
the  highest  that  has  been  known  in  history,  when 
its  character  and  efi'ects  are  fully  estimated.  So 
far  there  is  general  agreement.  But  the  logical 
differentia  has  yet  to  be  specified,  and  here  opinions 
vary.  If  the  characteristic  and  distinguishing 
doctrinal  teaching  of  Cliristianity  be  considered, 
it  may  be  said  that  the  Incarnation  is  its  central 
idea.  But  this  must  never  be  interpreted  apart 
from  Christ's  whole  work,  including  His  death 
and  resurrection,  and  the  main  purpose  of  that 
work,  the  Redemption  of  mankind,  that  Salvation 
and  Reconciliation  which  He  lias  made  possible 
and  open  to  all.  Opinions  may  differ  as  to  the 
exact  mode  in  which  this  has  been  effected,  but 
the  Cross  of  Christ  is  its  central  feature.  Chris- 
tianity without  a  Saviour  is  a  face  without  an  eye, 
a  body  without  a  .soul. 

If  the  Christian  religion  be  regarded  from 
within,  as  a  .subjective,  personal  experience,  its 
essence  lies  in  a  new  life,  conceived  in  a  new 
spirit  and  animated  by  a  new  power.  This  power 
is  directly  imparted  by  the  Sjjirit  of  God,  but  on 
the  human  side  it  arises  from  the  new  conceptions 
of  God  given  by  Christ  and  the  new  relation  to 
Him  established  through  the  redemption  and 
mediation  of  His  Son.  If  the  religion  be  viewed 
on  its  racial  and  social  side,  it  may  be  described  as 
having  for  its  object  the  establishment  of  a 
brotherhood  of  mankind  based  on  the  Fatherhood 
of  God  and  the  Elder  Brotherhood  of  Christ;  a 
view  of  man  which  implies  the  inestimable  indivi- 
dual worth  of  each,  and  the  ultimate  union  of  all 
in  a  renewed  Order  of  which  Christ  has  laid  the 
foundation,  given  the  foretaste,  and  promised  the 
complete  consummation  and  fruition. 

The  secret  of  the  power  of  Christianity  lies  in  the 
conviction  which  it  engenders  that— granted  the 
fundamental  principles  of  Tlieism— God  has  Him- 
self undertaken  the  cause  of  man  ;  that  He  enters 
into  man's  weakness,  feels  with  his  sorrows,  and, 
chiefly,  that  He  bears  the  terrible  burden  of  man's 
sins  ;  all  this  being  assured  by  the  gift  of  His  Son 
and  the  work  which  the  Son  Himself  has  accom- 
plished and  is  still  carrying  on  by  His  Spirit.  The 
metaphysical  nature  of  Christ's  Person  may  not  be 
capable  of  being  adecjuately  expressed  in  words  ; 
the  full  scope  of  His  redeeming  work  may  be 
variously  understood  and  may  be  incapable  of  being 
condensed  into  a  formula  ;  while  Christians  may 
widely  differ  as  to  the  way  in  which  the  benefits 
of  that  work  are  best  ajipropriated  and  realized 
and  distributed  by  His  Church  in  the  world.  But 
the  essence  of  the  religion  lies  in  its  conception  of 
the  spiritual  needs  of  man,  the  ends  for  which  he 
exists,  his  sin  and  failure  to  realize  those  ends  ;  in 
its  proclamation  of  Christ,  the  once  dying  and  now 
ever  living  Lord  as  Himself  the  Way,  through 
whom  sin  may  be  forgiven  and  failure  "remedied  ; 


and  above  all,  in  the  moral  and  spiritual  dynamic 
which  is  supplied  by  faith  in  the  great  Central 
Person  of  the  whole  religion,  and  the  life  in  Him 
which  is  rendered  possible  for  every  believer  by 
the  indwelling  of  the  Holy  Spirit. 

As  to  the  claims  of  Christianity  to  be  the  only 
permanent,  universal,  and  final  religion  for  man- 
kind, no  vindication  of  them  can  amount  to  actual 
demonstration.  But  the  argument  would  take 
the  direction  of  inquiring  whether  history  thus  far 
confirms  the  high  claim  of  Christianity  to  suffice 
for  the  needs  of  man  as  man.  Is  Tertullian's 
phrase  aniiiui.  naturaHter  Christiana  borne  out 
by  facts?  Has  Christianity,  not  in  its  miserably 
imperfect  and  often  utterly  misleading  concrete 
forms,  but  in  the  idea  of  its  Founder  and  the  best 
attempts  made  to  realize  it,  shown  the  'promise 
and  potency '  of  a  universal  religion  for  the  race  ? 
Such  an  argument  would  have  to  take  full  account 
of  criticisms  like  those  of  Nietzsche  and  his  school, 
who  complain  that  Christianity  in  its  tenderness 
towards  the  weak  and  erring,  in  its  hallowing  of 
sorrow  and  its  preoccupation  with  the  evil  of  sin, 
profoundly  misunderstands  human  nature  and 
man's  position  in  the  Universe;  that  it  amounts, 
in  fact,  to  a  worship  of  failure  and  decay.  These 
criticisms  have  not  been  widely  accepted  as  valid, 
and  they  can  easily  be  met — they  were,  indeed, 
substantially  anticipated  by  Cels'us  and  refuted 
by  Origen.  But  such  objections  are  sure  to  recur, 
together  with  kindred  difficulties  arising  from  a 
naturalistic  view  of  man  which  claims  to  be  sup- 
ported by  physical  science.  They  can  be  effectu- 
ally repelled  onlj^  by  practical  proof  that  the 
teaching  of  Christianity  accords  with  the  facts  of 
human  nature  and  meets  the  needs  of  human 
life  more  completely  than  any  other  .system  of 
philosophy  or  religion. 

On  tlie  other  hand,  the  triumphs  which  Chris- 
tianity has  already  achieved  ;  the  power  it  has 
manifested  of  being  able  to  satisfy  new  and  unex- 
pected claims ;  the  excellence  of  its  ideal  of  char- 
acter, one  which  cannot  be  transcended  so  long  as 
human  nature  continues  to  be  what  it  is ;  the  suc- 
cess with  which  it  has  brought  the  very  highest 
type  of  character  within  reach  of  the  lowest,  as 
attested  by  the  experience  of  millions ;  the  power 
of  recovery  which  it  has  exhibited,  when  its 
teaching  has  been  traduced  and  its  spirit  and  aims 
degraded  by  prominent  professors  and  representa- 
tives ; — these,  with  other  similar  characteristics, 
go  far  towards  proving  the  Divine  origin  of  Chris- 
tianity, and  its  claim  to  be  the  perfect  religion  of 
humanity,  sufficing  for  all  men  and  for  all  time. 

It  is  certain,  however,  that  if  the  true  spirit  of 
the  Christian  religion  is  to  be  rightly  displayed 
generation  after  generation,  and  its  work  rightly 
done  in  the  world,  there  must  be  a  constant 
'  return  to  Christ '  on  the  part  of  His  Church. 
The  phrase,  of  course,  must  be  adequately  inter- 
preted. Much  has  been  said  concerning  the 
'  recovery  of  the  historical  Christ '  as  characteristic 
of  our  time,  and  the  expression  represents  an 
important  truth.  Christ  is  seen  more  and  more 
clearly  to  be  'the  end  of  critical  and  historical 
inquiry'  and  'the  starting-place  of  constructive 
thought.'  But  it  is  the  whole  Christ  of  the  NT 
who  is  the  norm  in  Christian  theology,  the  object 
of  Cliristian  worship,  the  guide  of  Christian 
practice.  The  Christ  of  the  Epistles  cannot  be 
separated  from  the  Christ  of  the  Gospels.  The 
modern  attempt,  fashionable  in  some  quarters,  to 
distinguish  between  the  Synoptic  Gospels  on  the 
one  hand  as  historic,  and  the  Fourth  Gospel  and 
the  Epistles  on  the  other  as  dogmatic,  cannot  be 
consistently  maintained,  and  does  not  adequately 
cover  the  facts  of  the  case.  The  Sermon  on  the 
Mount  does  not  reveal  to  us  the  entire  Christ,  nor 


324 


CHRISTMAS 


CHURCH 


the  first  chapter  of  St.  John,  nor  the  Epistle  to  the 
Romans  ;  but  there  is  no  inconsistency  between 
these  representations  of  the  Christians'  Lord. 
There  is  no  contradiction  between  the  Christ  of 
the  Synoptic  Gospels  and  the  Christ  of  Apostolic 
experience  and  the  Christ  of  historical  Christianity, 
except  for  those  who  reject  the  element  of  the 
supernatural,  which,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  pervades 
the  whole.  The  Christ  of  the  NT  is  the  object  of 
Christian  faith,  as  well  as  the  Founder  of  the 
Christian  religion  in  its  historical  continuity.  To 
Him  it  is  necessary  for  His  Church — compassed 
with  ignorance  and  intirniity  and  not  yet  fully 
imrged  from  its  sins— continually  to  '  return,' 
t,'eneration  after  generation,  if  His  religion  is  to 
be  preserved  in  its  purity  and  transmitted  in  its 
ix>wer.  The  vitality  of  Christianity  in  the  indi- 
vidual heart  and  in  the  life  of  the  community 
depends  upon  the  closeness  of  personal  communion 
with  Christ  maintained  through  His  indwelling 
Spirit.  'To  steep  ourselves  in  Him  is  still  the 
chief  matter,'  says  Hamack  in  one  place.  '  Abide 
in  me  and  I  in  you,'  was  His  own  word  to  His  first 
disciples,  and  it  must  ever  be  obeyed,  if  the  char- 
acteristic fruit  of  that  Vine  is  to  be  seen  in  abund- 
ance on  its  dependent  branches. 

What  the  Christianity  of  the  future  might  be 
and  would  be,  if  this  command  were  adequately 
fulfilled,  none  can  say ;  the  capacities  of  the 
religion  have  been  as  yet  only  partially  tested. 
In  Christ,  as  St.  Paul  taught,  are  '  all  the  treasures 
of  wisdom  and  knowledge' — the  treasures  of  all- 
.subduing  love,  of  assimilating  and  transmuting 
power,  of  uplifting  and  purifying  grace  for  the 
nations — '  hidden '  (Col  2*).  And  the  treasure  is 
still  hidden,  because  His  followers,  its  custodians 
and  stewards,  do  not  adequately  make  it  known 
— have  not,  indeed,  adequately  discovered  it  for 
themselves.  But  if  in  every  generation  there  be, 
as  there  should  be,  a  renewal  of  the  very  springs 
of  Christian  life  by  fresh  recourse  to  the  tountain- 
head,  then  new  claims,  new  needs,  new  problems, 
will  only  afford  occasion  for  new  triumphs  of 
Christ  and  His  Cross— the  message  of  Divine  self- 
sacrifice  to  the  uttermost  in  redemption,  as  the  one 
means  of  salvation  for  a  sinning  and  suffering  world. 

LrrEKATUBE.— From  amongst  the  vast  number  of  books  which 
bear  on  the  subject  of  this  article,  a  very  few  recent  volumes 
and  articles  may  be  mentioned  here  : — R.  S.  Rt-.rr^,  The  Dirtite 

Origin  o/  Christianity,  1883;    A.    Hn-- ■'-     "■     If ■..    ,les 

CAn'seent«m«,  1900  [tr.  by  T.  B.Saun.i.i  -     '  '    ',,,'tii/ 

1901),  and  Die  Mission  und  Ausbr.i  ,,x  In 

den  ersten  drei  Jahrhunderten,  1902  Ex- 

pansion 0/  Christianity,  1905] ;  A.  .M.  i  /    n,   ,_,/ 

Christ    in    Modem    Theology,    1893,  ..i...    ,„,,-..,,;„ /    the 

Christian  Religion,  1902;  \V.  Adams  lirouii.  The  E.-^nnce  of 
Christianity,  1903  ;  see  also  the  article  on  '  Christian,  The  Name 
of,"  by  P.  W.  Schmiedel  in  the  Bncyc.  Bihl.  i.  752 IT.,  and  that 
on  '  Christianity'  by  T.  M.  Lindsay  in  the  Encyc.  Brit.*-* 

AV.  T.  Davison. 
CHRISTMAS.— See  Calendar,  and  Date.s,  §  1. 

CHRISTOLOGY — See  Per.son  of  Christ. 

CHRONOLOGY.— See  Dates. 

CHDRCH.— It  Ls  proposed  in  this  article  to  deal 
with  the  references  to  the  Church  in  the  Gospels, 
particularly  as  they  bear  upon  Christ's  relation  to 
the  Church.  The  other  books  of  the  NT,  and  the 
beliefs  and  practices  of  the  early  ages  of  Christi- 
anity, ^vill  be  referred  to  only  as  far  as  they  appear 
to  tlirow  light  upon  the  teaching  and  actions  of 
Christ  a.s  recorded  in  the  Gospels.  It  will  be  i 
assumed  that  the  accounts  of  the  life  and  teaching 
of  Christ  contained  in  the  four  Gospels  as  well  as  the 
narrative  of  the  Acts  are  substantially  historical, 
and  that  the  thirteen  Epistles  usually  a,scribed  to 
St.  Paul  are  "enuine.  Without  this  limitation  the  < 
inquiry  would  be  of  quite  a  ditt'erent  character.         I 


The  historical  .society  known  as  the  Church  has 
never  claimed  to  have  come  into  complete  exist- 
ence until  the  day  of  Pentecost,  and  its  growth  and 
organization  were  a  gradual  process.  SVe  shall 
not,  therefore,  on  any  theory,  expect  to  find  in  the 
Gospels  a  complete  and  explicit  account  of  the 
foundation  and  characteristics  of  the  Church,  and 
it  wOl  be  a  convenient  method  of  procedure  to  take 
the  chief  elements  of  the  conception  of  the  Church 
which  was  generally  accepted  at  a  later  date,  when 
the  community  was  fully  constituted,  and  to  in- 
quire how  far  these  can  be  traced  back  to  the 
teaching  of  Christ  Himself,  and  how  far  they  may 
be  regarded  as  later  accretions,  or  the  natural  but 
not  necessai-y  development  of  ideas  which  existed 
before,  if  at  all,  only  in  germ.  Now  our  know- 
ledge of  the  first  days  of  Christianity  derived  from 
the  NT  is  but  fragmentary,  and  the  period  immedi- 
ately following  is  one  of  great  obscurity  ;  but  from 
the  middle  of  the  2nd  cent,  there  is  no  doubt  about 
the  prevalent  and  almost  universal  belief  of 
Christians  with  regard  to  the  Church.  It  was 
believed  that  the  Church,  as  it  then  existed,  was 
a  society  founded  by  Christ  as  an  integral  part  of 
HLs  work  for  mankind.  It  was  further  believed 
that  the  Church  possessed  characteristics  which 
were  summed  up  under  the  words.  One,  Holy, 
Catholic,  and  Apostolic.  And  while  it  was  believed 
that  the  Church  stood  in  the  most  intimate  spiritual 
relation  to  Christ,  it  was  also  held  that  its  outward 
unity  and  continuity  were  secured  by  a  definite 
organization  and  form  of  government,  the  essential 
features  of  which  had  been  imposed  upon  the 
Church  by  the  Apostles,  acting  under  a  commission 
"iven  them  by  Christ  Himself.  The  Church  was 
further  regarcled  as  the  instrument  appointed  by 
Christ  for  the  completion  of  His  work  for  mankind. 
The  fact  that  these  beliefs  were  generally  held,  at 
all  events  from  the  middle  of  the  2nd  cent,  on- 
wards, suggests  the  following  division  of  the  subject. 
First,  it  will  be  asked  whether  the  belief  that  it 
was  Christ's  intention  to  found  a  visible  society  is 
borne  out  (1)  by  what  we  know  of  His  own  actions 
and  teaching,  and  (2)  by  the  records  of  the  earliest 
days  of  Christian  life.  Secondly,  the  character- 
istics ascribed  to  the  Church  in  the  Christian  creeds 
will  be  examined  in  the  light  of  the  NT  writings. 

i.  Indications  of  a  visible  Church. 

1.  In  the  teaching  and  actions  of  Christ :  (a)  the  Messi- 

anic claim  and  the  Kingdom  of  God  ;  (6)  the  body 
of  disciples ;  (c)  the  institution  of  sacraments 

2.  In  the  earliest  period  of  Christian  history, 
ii.  Characteristics  of  the  Church. 

1.  L"nit\' ;  (a)  essential  and  transcendental ;  tp)  taking 

outward  expression ;  (c)  imperfect 

2.  Holiness. 

3.  Catholicity. 

4.  Apostolicity :  (a)  doctrine ;  (6)  worship ;  (c)  discip- 

Note.— The  \ 


i.  Indications  of  a  visible  Church.  —  1.  In 
the  Teaching  and  Actions  of  Christ.— («)  Relation 
of  Christ  to  the  Messianic  Hope  and  the  Kingdom 
of  God. — The  idea  of  a  covenant  relation  between 
God  and  man  is  found  in  the  earliest  records  of  the 
Hebrew  race.  Covenants  were  at  first  made  with 
indiWduals  and  families  ;  but  with  the  beginning 
of  Jewish  nationality  there  is  a  consciousness  of  a 
peculiar  relation  between  the  nation  and  Jehovah. 
The  idea  of  a  national  God  was,  of  course,  shared 
by  the  Jews  with  all  the  nations  with  which  they 
came  into  contact ;  but  as  their  conception  of  the 
Deity  advanced,  and  their  religion  developed 
through  monolatry  into  a  pure  monotheism,  the 
idea  of  Jehovali  as  a  national  God  passed  into  the 
idea  of  the  selection  of  Israel  by  the  one  God  of  all 
the  earth  for  a  special  destiny  and  special  privi- 
leges. Thus  the  Jewish  religion  was  a  religion  of 
hope,  and  its  Golden  Age  was  in  the  future.     This 


CHURCH 


national  hope  became  closely  associated  in  thought 
with  the  kingiloni, — at  first  the  actual  kingdom, 
and  then  the  kingdom  to  be  restored  in  the  future. 
After  the  fall  of  the  actual  kingdom,  the  idea  of 
the  future  kingdom  became,  to  a  great  extent, 
idealized,  and  in  close  connexion  with  it  there  "rew 
up  the  expectation  of  a  personal  Messiah.  It  is 
not  necessary  for  the  present  purpose  to  inquire 
when  this  expectation  first  becomes  apparent, 
or  to  trace  the  gi-owth  of  the  Messianic  hope  in 
detail.  The  important  fact  is  that  at  the  time  of 
Christ's  birth  Israel  as  a  nation  was  looking  for  a 
kingdom  of  God  and  a  Messianic  King.  With 
many,  perhaps  with  most,  the  expectation  may 
have  been  mainly  that  of  an  independent  and 
powerful  earthly  kingdom ;  but  the  remains  of 
Jewish  literature  in  the  last  century  before  Christ 
show  that  the  more  spiritually  minded  Jews  un- 
doubtedly looked  for  a  kingdom  which  would  in- 
deed have  Jerusalem  for  its  centre,  and  of  which 
the  faithful  Jews  would  be  the  nucleus,  but  which 
would  also  be  world-wide  and  spiritual  in  character. 
It  must  also  be  noticed  that  the  doctrine  of  a  Rem- 
nant, which  had  taken  strong  hold  of  the  Jewish 
mind  since  the  time  of  Isaiah,  had  accustomed  them 
to  think  of  a  community  of  the  faithful,  within  and 
growing  out  of  the  existing  nation,  who  should  in 
a  special  sense  be  the  heirs  of  the  promises. 

The  most  conspicuous  feature  in  the  teaching  of 
Christ,  as  recorded  in  the  Synoptic  Gospels,  is  un- 
doubtedly His  claim  to  be  the  Messiah,  and  His 
announcement  of  the  coming  of  the  Kingdom  of 
(iod.  In  using  these  terms,  He  must  have  intended 
to  appeal  to,  and  to  a  great  extent  to  sanction, 
the  ideas  and  hopes  of  those  whom  He  addressed. 
And  yet  it  very  soon  became  plain  that  the  king- 
dom \\  Inch  He  preached  was  something  very  dill'er- 
ent  from  anything  that  the  most  spiritual  of  the 
.lews  had  conceived.  The  old  Jewish  kings  had 
led  the  people  in  war,  they  had  judged  them  in 
peace,  they  had  levied  tribute  ;  but  these  functions 
Christ  expressly  disclaimed.  He  would  not  allow 
His  followers  to  think  of  appealing  to  force  (Mt 
26'-),  He  repudiated  the  idea  of  being  a  ruler  or 
a  judge  of  ordinary  contentions  (Lk  12'^),  He  ac- 
cepted the  payment  of  tribute  to  an  alien  potentate 
as  a  thing  indifferent  (Mk  12").  But,  on  the  other 
hand,  the  great  acts  which  Jeho\ah  Himself  had 
performed  for  the  Jewish  nation,  in  virtue  of  which 
He  Himself  had  been  reganled  as  their  King, 
Christ  performed  for  a  new  nation.  Jehovah  had 
called  Abraham  and  the  patriarchs,  and  had  at- 
tached them  to  Himself  by  intimate  ties  and 
covenants,  and  out  of  their  see<l  had  formed  a 
nation  which  He  ruled  ;  and,  in  the  second  place. 
He  had  given  this  nation  His  own  law.  So  Christ 
called  from  among  the  Jews  His  own  disciples, 
from  whom  He  required  an  alisolute  personal  de- 
votion, and  to  them  He  delivered  a  new  law  to 
fulfil  or  supersede  the  old  (Mt  5").  See,  fui'ther, 
art.  Kingdom  of  God. 

What  is  the  relation  of  the  Kingdom  of  God  to 
the  Church .?— The  two  things  are  not  simjjly  iden- 
tical, and  the  predominant  sense  of  the  Kingdoni 
in  the  NT  appears  to  be  rather  that  of  a  reign  than 
of  a  realm.  But  these  two  ideas  are  i'i)ni]ilement- 
ary,  and  the  one  imjilics  tlic  nllnr.  Sunu'limes  it 
is  hardly  possible  tod  isli  null  i-li  lirlwi-.n  ilieni.  It 
maybe  true  that  'l.y  llie  \M,rA--  llir  Kingdom  of 
God  our  Lord  denotes  ikjI  so  imirli  His  .lisciples, 
whether  individually  or  even  .i-  Iimiihiil:  ,i  ...lie,' 
tivu  body,  as  something  a\1ihI,  iImv  ivn-iie  -  .-i 
state  upon  which  they  enter  li;..l.ei  i-,,ii.  /.''  iiuiuii 
Del) ;  but  at  the  same  time  the  whole  liistury  ol  the 
growth  of  the  idea  of  the  Kingdom  led,  naturally, 
to  the  belief  that  the  Kingdom  of  God  about  which 
Christ  taught  would  be  expressed  and  realized  in  a 
society.     The  teaching  of  Christ  about  the  King- 


dom of  Heaven  does  not  perhaps,  ta 
prove  that  He  was  the  Founder  of  t. 
but  if  this  is  established  by  other  eviden.. 
at  least  be  said  that  His  Kingdom  is  visibly 
sented  in  His  Church,  and  that  '  the  Church  i& 
Kingdom  of  Heaven  in  so  far  as  it  has  alrea 
come,  and  it  prepares  for  the  Kingdom  as  it  is  U. 
come  in  glory.' 

(h)  H 010  far  the  line  of  action  adopted  hy  Christ 
during  His  ministry  tended  to  the  formation  of  n 
society. — Christ  began  from  the  first  to  attach 
to  Himself  a  number  of  disciples.  Their  numbers 
varied,  and  they  did  not  all  stand  in  equally  close 
relations  to  Him  ;  they  were  indeed  still  a  vague 
and  indeterminate  body  at  the  time  of  His  death, 
but  they  tended  to  define  themselves  more  and 
more.  There  was  a  process  of  sifting  ( Jn  6*'),  and 
immediately  after  the  Ascension  an  expression  is 
used  which  suggests  some  sort  of  list  (Ac  1'*).  As 
much  as  this,  indeed,  mif'ht  be  said  of  most  re- 
ligious and  philosophical  leaders,  but  Christ  did 
more  than  create  an  unorganized  mass  of  disciples. 
From  an  early  period  He  formed  an  inner  circle 
'  that  they  might  be  with  him,  and  that  he  might 
send  them  forth  '  (Mk  3''').  The  name  '  Apostles  ' 
may  have  been  given  to  the  Twelve  in  the  first 
instance  with  reference  to  a  temporary  mission, 
but  subsequent  events  showed  that  this  temporary 
mission  was  itself  only  part  of  a  system  of  training 
to  which  Christ  devoted  more  and  more  of  His 
time.  The  Twelve  became  in  a  special  sense  '  the 
disciples,'  and  this  is  what  they  are  usually  called 
in  the  Fourth  Gospel.  The  larger  body  are  also 
disciples,  but  the  Twelve  are  their  leaders  and 
representatives.  Their  representative  character 
culminates  at  the  Last  Supper,  where  the  Eucharist 
is  given  to  them  alone,  but,  as  the  event  showed, 
in  trust  for  the  whole  body. 

Certain  sayings  recorded  of  Christ  in  connexion 
with  the  Apostles  and  their  functions  will  be 
noticed  later.  For  the  present  it  is  enough  to  call 
attention  to  the  fact  that,  apart  from  any  s|iecial 
saying  or  commission,  the  general  course  of  Christ's 
actions  not  only  tended  to  produce  a  society,  but 
provided  what  is  a  necessary  condition  of  the 
eti'ectiveness  and  permanence  of  a  society  —  the 
nucleus  of  an  organization  ;  and  that  the  gieater 
part  of  His  labours  was  directed  towards  the 
training  of  this  inner  circle  for  carrying  on  a  work 
which  He  would  not  complete  Himself. 

(r)  The  signifirritirc  of  the  institution  of  the 
S((i-ri(iiinit\.—\  s(](iety,  to  be  plainly  visible  and 
niiniistuk.il.le,  veiiuires  some  outward  act  or  si™ 
of  <lisiiiietioM  liy  \vhi<'h  all  its  members  can  be 
recognized.  Circumcision  had  been  such  to  the 
Jews.  And  in  order  to  be  both  eftective  and  per- 
manent, a  society  further  requires  some  definite 
corporate  action,  binding  upon  all  its  members, 
and  relating  to  the  object  for  which  the  society 
exists.  The  observance  of  the  Law  has  been  the 
corporate  action  of  the  Jews.  No  society  has,  as 
a  matter  of  fact,  succeeded  in  maintaining  itself  in 
existence  for  an  indefinite  period  without  such 
signs  of  distinction  and  corporate  actions.  Both 
requirements  were  supplied  by  Christ,  if  the  Gospel 
narrative  may  be  trusted,  in  "the  sacraments  which 
He  instituted.  In  Baptism  He  provided  a  definite 
means  of  incorporation,  and  in  the  Eucharist  a 
corporate  act  and  a  visible  bond  of  union.  This  is 
indeed  only  jiart  of  the  significance  of  the  sacra- 
iiieiifs,  hill'  wlieii  they  are  regarded  from  another 
lioinl  olMew  il  lieeomes  all  the  more  striking  that 
the  iiie;in>  .ij.ii.iiiited  to  convey  the  grace  of  God  to 
the  iiidividuiil  should  be  necessarily  social  in  their 
character.  The  general  tendency  of  the  teaching 
of  Christ,  in  tlie  Sermon  on  the  Mount  and  else- 
where, with  regard  to  the  JeAvish  Law  and  to  the 
relation  of  the  inward  and  outward,  gives  great 


CHURCH 


CHURCH 


uo  the  fact  that  He  shouM  have  ordered 

jal  acts  of  the  nature  ui  sac^raments,  and 

.0  still   more  renuirl.able   tli.it  He  ^should 

•aid  emphasis  on  theii    lecessity  as  a  condition 

-ntrance  into  the  Kinj/iiom  and  iiito  the  posses- 

an  of  life  (Jn  3'  6").  And  the  fact  that  these  are 
necessarily  social  oidinances  is  of  pri  mary  import- 
ance in  considerins;  the  relation  of  the  Church  to 
Christ. 

It  tlius  appears  from  a  general  view  of  Christ's 
ministry  aS'  recoiled  in  the  Gospels,  without  taking 
into  consideratioh  particular  sayings  ascribed  to 
Him,  that  before  the  Ascension  He  had  provided 
everything  that  was  necessary  for  the  existence  of 
a  society,  for  the  development  of  an  organization, 
and  for  its  permanence  and  corporate  action.  The 
only  thing  wantin"  to  the  complete  constitution  of 
the  Church  was  tlie  fullj'ment  of  the  promise  of 
the  gift  of  the  indwelling  .'pirit,  for  which  the  dis- 
ciples were  bi.ldea  to  wait  (Lk  24«,  Ac  1^). 

2.  In  the  earliest  period  at  Church  history.— 
The  conclusions  to  which  the  Gospels  appear  to 
lX)int  will  be  corroborated  if  there  is  evidence  that 
a  society  actually  did  exist  immediately  after  the 
events  recorded  in  the  Gospels.  Of  this  early 
period  the  only  existing  record  is  that  which  is 
contained  in  the  Acts.  There  is  al^  -  iiteiiiporary 
evidence  of  the  ideas  of  a  sonie« '  '  n-  ju-riod  in 
St.  Paul's  Epistles.     If  the  ( ■^  i  i   '  t h."  Acts  is 

accepted,  there  is  no  doubt  ci  ■,■■  _  M  ttiKkiK-v. 
Immediately  after  the  As< . n    .  i  ■  appears'a 

« ell  defineif  '      •     •  \  i  ue  Apostles 

(Ac  l"-'").  •    this  body  is 

fully  constituti'ii  my  u^  nn-^i'in.  .uid  receives  a 
large  acce.ssion  of  niinilifis.  TIh'  mention  of  de- 
finite numbers  (Ac  1'=  2^'  4*)  shows  that  there  was 
no  doubt  who  the  persons  were  who  belonged  to 
the  society.  Nor  is  there  any  doubt,  from  the 
constant  mention  of  baptism  throughout  the  book, 
that  this  was  the  invariable  means  of  acquiring 
membership.  It  is  expressly  mentioned  even  in 
the  exceptional  case  recorded  in  10^"-.  Through- 
out the  whole  narrative  the  Apostles  appear  as  the 
leaders  and  teachers  of  the  whole  community. 
Membership  implies  ailherence  to  their  teaching 
and  fellowship,  \vith  '  the  breaking  of  bread ' 
and  common  prayer  as  a  bond  of  union  (2'-).  The 
practice  of  community  of  goods  is  an  evidence  of 
the  closeness  of  the  bond,  while  the  fact  that 
this  was  voluntary  shows  that  '  neither  the  com- 
munity was  lost  in  the  individuals,  nor  the  in- 
dividuals in  the  communitv'  (Hort,  Christian. 
Ecdesia,  p.  48).  The  meetings  of  the  Church 
must  have  been  in  houses,  and  none  in  Jeru- 
salem can  possibly  have  contained  all  the  dis- 
ciples ;  but  no  importance  is  attached  to  the  jdace 
of  meeting,  nor  are  house  congregations  ever 
spoken  of  or  alluded  to  as  separate  units  of  Church 
life.  A  theory  has  been  formed  that  the  Church 
as  a  society  arose  out  of  a  federation  of  house 
assemblies,  but  there  is  absolutely  no  trace  what- 
ever of  such  a  iiossibility  in  the  Acts  :  the  whole 
body  of  disci]ilc^  i-  the  only  unit.  The  word  errksia 
occurs  for  the  lir-t  tiiin'  in  Ac  5",  and  there  it  is 
the  whole  body  «  hi.li  i.  -|nikcn  of.  In  the  cour.se 
of  time  the  iiKiin-.'  in  liic  number  of  adherents 
led  to  an  aihanr.  in  ■.utilization,  the  Apostles 
delegating  some  ..i  i  Inii  innitions  to  a  lower  order 
of  ministers,  an. I  soon  ati.  iwardspersecution  caused 
an  extension  ol  tin-  (  liiin  li  to  other  parts  of  Pales- 
tine. But  there  is  as  yet  no  subdivision  ;  nues- 
tions  which  arise  in  Samaria  and  Joppa  are  dealt 
with  at  Jerusalem  (Ac  8"  11"-).  This  state  of 
things,  however,  could  not  last.  When  the  pro- 
ce.ss  of  extension  had  gone  further,  it  became 
impossible  to  administer  all  the  affairs  of  the  com- 
munity from  a  .single  centre.  And  so  when  ji  body 
of  Christians  established  themselves  in  Antioch,  a 


I  new  use  of  the  word  ecdesia  appears  ( 12-^).  Hitherto 
it  has  meant  the  whole  body  of  the  brethren  ;  now 
it  is  applied  also  to  parts  of  the  whole.  Each  centre 
is  capable  of  .separate  action,  and  deals  with  local 
affairs,  while  remaining  in  close  union  with  the 
whole.  And  so  the  step  which  was  perhaps  the 
most  momentous  of  any  that  have  been  taken  in 
Church  history — the  mission  of  Paul  and  Bar- 
nabas— was  apparently  the  work  of  the  Church  in 
Antioch  alone,  without  any  reference  to  Jeru- 
salem (l.Si^-)-  This  mission  led  to  the  foundation 
of  a  large  number  of  local  ecclesice,  each  of  which 
was  provided  by  the  Apostle  with  a  local  ministry 
(14'''),  while  he  exercised  a  continual  supervision 
over  them,  and  visited  them  as  often  as  circum- 
stances would  allow.  The  difficult  questions  which 
arise  out  of  this  gieat  extension  of  the  Church  are 
referred  to  the  '  Apostles  and  presbyters '  at  Jeru- 
salem. The  precise  relations  between  the  authority 
of  the  whole  body  and  the  legitimate  independence 
of  the  local  communities  are  undefined,  but  the 
recognition  of  the  unity  of  the  whole  Church  and  of 
the  Apostolic  authority  is  unmistakable.  In  the 
Epistles  of  St.  Paul  the  term  ecelesia  is  constantly 
used  of  the  local  communities,  of  which  he  had 
frequent  occasion  to  .speak  ;  the  cliiuch  in  a  city 
(I  Co  1=)  or  even  in  a  house  (Ro  16',  Col  4'^)  is  a 
familiar  expression,  and  the  churches  of  a  region 
are  spoken  of  (1  Co  16'-'')  in  a  way  that  possibly 


of  which  these  several  churches  are  only  local  divi- 
sions. It  is  in  the  Epistle  to  the  Ephesians  that 
his  doctrine  of  '  the  Clmreh '  culminates.  It  is 
particularly  with  reference  to  this  teaching  that  a 
distinction  has  been  drawn  between  the  actual  and 
the  ideal  Church.  This  distinction  is  a  real  one,  if 
it  means  that  the  ideal  of  the  Church  has  never 
yet  been  realized  in  fact.  But  neither  St.  Paul  nor 
any  other  NT  ■writer  draws  any  distinction,  or  ap- 
pears to  be  conscious  of  the  need  of  any.  The 
Clnirch,  like  the  individual  Christian,  is  regarded 
as  bein^-  tliat  wliirh  it  is  becoming.  As  the  indi- 
vidual (  liri^liaii,  in  spite  of  his  imperfections,  is  a 
saint.  ~..  ihc  i\i-^ting  body  of  Christians  whom  he 
is  a.l.lii--inu  i^  tlie  Body  of  Christ,  which  is  to 
bo  |.r.~.nti.l  .1  ulciiious  Church,  holy  and  without 
bliMiii-li  (1  ('.,  IJ-.,  Eph  5").  See  ORGANIZATION. 
ii.  Tin:  111  \i;.\CTERisTics  of  the  Church.— 
As^iiiiiiiit;  iicnv  that  the  Church  is  a  society  founded 
by  Christ  to  carry  on  His  work  for  the  redemption 
of  mankind,  the  characteristic  notes  of  the  Church, 
as  they  have  been  embodied  in  the  Creeds,  may  be 
considered  with  reference  to  the  teaching  contained 
in  the  Gospels.  It  is  convenient  to  state  at  the 
outset  what  the  principal  passages  in  the  Gospels 
are  which  bear  upon  the  subject.  In  the  first  place, 
all  the  teaching  relative  to  the  Kingdom  of  God 
bears  more  or  less  directly  on  the  Church.  Some 
points  with  regard  to  this  have  already  been 
noticed.  Then  there  are  the  two  passages  in  which 
the  word  errhaia  is  use,].  Mt  IG''-^  and  IS''"*.  In 
connexion  with  thr  finiiiir,  the  other  two  '  Petrine' 
texts,  Lk '-'-'^^  -  .nil  .In  J I "",  may  be  considered. 
There  arc  al^..  iln'  .Imucs  given  "to  the  Apostles 
in  general,  .Mt  lo,  Mk  a""'"  6"-l^  Mt  28'«-2»,  Jn 
20='-=',  antl  the  accounts  of  the  institution  of  the 
Eucharist.  And  there  is  the  long  passage  Jn 
14-17,  which  specially  bears  upon  the  relations  of 
Christ  to  the  Church.  The  authenticity  or  credi- 
bility of  some  of  these  passages  has  been  disputed 
on  various  grounds,  but  it  will  be  assumed  for  the 
present  purpose  that  they  contain  a  credible  record 
of  till  I.  :n  liin-  .if  Christ.  It  will  be  convenient  to 
ci.ii  'li     I   .I'hing  under  the  heads  of  those 

null  I  I  i!ii  I  liuK-h  which  have  been  commonly 
a  .  I :  i.  i  I.I  11  I  111  early  times,  and  have  been  em- 
bodied in  the  Creeds. 


CHURCH 


CHURCH 


327 


1.  Unity.  —  If  the  conclusion  already  reached 
about  the  origin  of  the  Church  is  true,  it  is  clear 
that  it  must  be  one  society.  The  teaching  of 
Christ  on  this  point,  as  recorded  in  the  Fourth 
Gospel,  is  very  emphatic  (Jn  17"'"^),  and  He  bases 
tlie  unity  of  the  Church  on  the  unity  of  God  (of. 
Epli  4'''*).  It  is  also  to  be  a  visible  unity,  for  it  is 
to  be  a  sign  to  the  world  :  '  that  the  world  may 
believe.'  It  is,  however,  implied  that  it  will  be  a 
progressive  unity,  not  at  once  perfectly  realized 
(Jn  17=''  W).  This  is  illustrated  by  St.  Paul,  who 
speaks  of  unity  as  a  tiling  to  be  gi-adually  attained 
to  (Eph  4'^).  'rhese  three  points  may  be  taken  in 
order. 

{a)  If  the  unity  of  the  Church  is  based  upon  the 
unity  of  God,  it  follows  that  it  is  an  essential  and 
transcendental,  and  not  an  accidental  unity  ;  i.e.  it 
is  not  a  merely  political  or  voluntary  association 
of  men  combining  together  witli  a  view  to  ettV-ii 
certain  ends,  nor  is  it  merely  occasioned  by  the 
social  instincts  of  hunKiu  iiiitnic.  Thi'^e  lowur 
kinds  of  unity  are  not,  iiiilccd.  cxrlu.liMl  l.y  the 
higher,  but  they  are  liy  thenisrhc,  ,iii  iiiMilHrii'nt 
explanation.  It  lias  been  ninint.iiiird  ihal  iIm'  i'Ic;i 
of  the  unity  of  the  Church  isaii  .illri  i  IkhiljIiI  .  rimrd 
by  the  strong  tendency  to  rpliuimiv  ,,  -  ,,!i.>,. 
which  prevailed  in  the  Eiiipiii'  in  iIm 
of  Christianity.  Almnclant  eviilcm-it  :iliia.l\  (\i-i., 
and  mori;  is  huin-  :ir.uiniil.it.>d,  of  the  existence  of 
this  t<MiM..n.\  ;  iHii  ri.iiii  It  should  be  shown  that 
non-l'luisti;in  .i,-.iri,iii(iiis  influenced  the  manner 
in  wliii-li  tlic  Cliristinn  icinuiinnitv  framed  its  ex- 
ternal life  and  tliat  tln'v  assist, -,1  its  -lowtli,  tliis 
would  not  in  the  least  ilis|, I  ii\  .■  iIh'  I'ssiniinl  \uiity 
of  the  Church.  As  far,  Ihiw.mi,  .i-  inM'-tiL;atio'n 
has  gone  at  present,  it  somis  tliat  tlic  (J'imrch 
owed  remarkably  little  to  heathen  precedents. 
The  fact  that  from  tlie  earliest  times  there  were 
some  who  more  or  less  separated  themselves  and 
stood  aloof,  has  been  alleged  as  a  proof  that  unity 
was  not  regarded  as  essential.  But  imperfection, 
as  has  already  been  noted,  is  a  condition  of  the 
earthly  state  of  the  Church  ;  and  the  strong  con- 
demnation with  wliich  separation  is  invariably 
spoken  of  in  the  NT  and  !iy  all  early  writers,  is 
very  strong  evidence  of  the  belief  of  the  Church 
that  unity  is  one  of  its  essential  marks.  The  ex- 
istence from  the  tirst  of  tlie  power  of  excommuni- 
cation (1  Co  5,  etc.),  is  furtlier  evidence  to  the 
same  eflect. 

The  unity  of  the  Church  is,  then,  a  theological 
unity,  arising  from  tlie  unity  of  Cod,  from  the  fact 
that  all  members  of  the  Cliuicli  ,nv  mcmljcrs  of 
Christ  and  abi.lr  in  llin.  as  tin-  l.r.-nirl„,s  .abide  in 
the  vine,  and  from  the  ind^\(■llill,^  of  the  Holy 
Spirit.  From  this  tlows  a  moral  unity  of  thought 
and  action  among  the  lueinbers  of  the  Church,  who 
are  bound  together  by  the  invisible  bonds  of  faith, 
hope,  and  love. 

(6)  But  this  invisible  unity  will  I'xi.ress  it.self,  as 

earth,  in  an  oiiiimnl  lorm.     'I'li.ne    has    not    un- 
naturally been  a  g I  deal   .if  rontliet    of    ..pinion 

throughout  the  greatei-  |,,iit   of  Chnieh  histcn-yas 

to  the  precise  nature  of   tl itw.ir.l  fornL  wliich  is 

necessary.     Confining  nniseh.',  to  tlie  teaching  of 
Christ   upon   the    snl.ieri.    the    liist    thing    to   be 


noticed  is  tlia 
called  sacraineni- 
of.  Thenecessii, 
actions  at  onee  , 
perform  them,  a 
social  in  their  n: 
except  in  connexi 
next  place,  the 


the  visible  actions 
lijeli  lias  been  already  spoken 
I  |ieifoiniing  certain  outward 
iiiiini^hes  those  persons  who 
tliev,.  |i,'irticnlar  actions  are 
vf.  and  r.innoi  lie  performed 
nitli  a  xi~ilile  society.  In  the 
inistration  of  sacraments  ini- 


isolation.  For  this  Christ  provided  by  the  insti- 
tution of  a  ministry  in  the  persons  of  the  Apostles, 
to  whom  Ho  expressly  committed  the  sacraments. 
It  follows  that  among  the  things  wliich  are  neces- 
sary to  their  valid  administration,  the  preservation 
of  the  order  instituted  by  the  Church  under  the 
direction  of  the  Apostles  must  be  reckoned.  And 
while  the  Church  has  recogTiized  all  its  members  a.s- 
valid  ministers  of  Baptism  in  case  of  necessity,  the 
administration  of  the  Eucharist  has  been  confined 
amongst  most  Christians  to  those  who  have  received 
.special  Apostolic  authority  for  the  purpose. 

It  is  furtlier  lield  hy  a  \  ery  large  number  of  Christians,  that 
in  addition  to  the  external  bonds  of  union  formed  by  tfie  sac-ia- 
mentsand  the  Apostolic  ministry,  the  Church  on  earth,  bciuK 
visible,  must  have  a  visible  he.id,  and  that  this  bcadsliin  was 


IS  borne  out  by  the  claims  made  from  tlie  earliest  times  by  the 
liishops  of  Rome,  and  allowed  or  acquiesced  in  by  the  Church  at 
large.    It  is  argued,  on  the  other  side,  that  the  passages  in  ques- 


jilies  discipline,  for  a  certain  amount  of  organiza- 
tion is  necessary  in  order  to  enable  a  society  to 
act,   and  social  actions  cannot  be    performed  in 


the  subject  are  nienti 


((•)  These  inward  and  outward  bonds  of  union 
give  a  real  numerical  unity  to  the  Church,  so  that 
it  will  be  one  in  any  one  place,  one  throughout  the 
world,  and  one  in  all  time.  Nothing  less  than  this 
can  satisfy  the  coiice]ition  of  unity  ]Mit  before  us  in 
the  NT.  But  it  must  be  noted,  i"ii  the  third  place, 
that  unity  may  be  real  while  it  is  still  imperfect. 
The  perfection  of  the  ('linnli,  in  lespect  of  unity 
as  well  as  of  all  other  (■li.ii.nteiistirs,  is  possible 
only  when  all  its  memlieis  are  peifeit,  ,an(l  there- 
fore it  cannot  be  fully  lealize.l  in  this  life.  Any 
loo.sening  of  those  homls  wliiih  have  been  men- 
tioned, whether  ini\.-iid  or  onlward,  must  neces- 
.sarily  impair  unity.  It  is  not  m-iessary  that  there 
sliould  be  an  outwaid  lue.uli.  A  lack  of  charity, 
leading  to  party  spirit,  smli  as  existed  at  Corinth, 
was  regarded  by  St,  I'.nil  ,is  ini|iairing  the  unity  of 
the  Church  altl'iough  nmisilile  severance  had  talcen 
place.  A  want  of  faith,  or  errors  concerning  the 
faith,  must  have  the  same  effect.  A  departure 
from  the  faith  of  the  Church  on  fundamental 
matters  is  called  '  heresy,'  and  any  great  want  of 
either  charity  or  faith  on  the  pait  of  a  section  of 
the  Church  commonly  leads  to  .i  Kiculi  of  the  ex- 
ternal conditions  of  union,  whieli  is  lalled  ■  schism.' 
This  again  admits  of  diHi-ienI  deuiers,  and  is  of 
two  principal  kinds.  A  suspension  or  refusal  of 
communion  between  two  ]iarts  of  the  (  lnirch  un- 
doubtedly amounts  to  a  schism,  e\eii  llionghboth 
parts  retain  the  due  administration  of  the  sacra- 
ments and  the  .Apostolic  ministry.  Such  a  schism 
h.is  aiiseii  I.etw.iMi  the  Churches  of  the  East  and 
the  West,  and  it  was  the  work  of  centuries  of 
gradual  estrangement,  so  that  it  is  impossible  to 
say  at  what  precise  moment  the  want  of  inter- 
communion became  such  as  to  amount  to  a  formal 
schism.  There  is  a  breach  of  a  very  similar  char- 
acter between  the  Anglican  Churches  and  those 
which  adhere  to  the  Eonian  obedience.  There  is 
also  another  kind  of  schism,  \\  liich  is  caused  when 
bodies  of  baptized  persons  form  new  associations 
which  do  not  claim  to  be  connected  with  the  Apos- 
tolic Church,  or  which  reject  the  sacraments. 
There  is  no  other  cause  for  such  breaches  of  out- 
ward communion  than  the  imperfection  of  the 
faith  and  charity  of  the  members  of  the  Church. 
But  if  such  imperfection  iloes  not  in  itself  destroy 
the  unity  of  the  Church,  the  external  con.sequences 
which  naturally  result  from  it  do  not  necessarily  do 


328 


CHUKCH 


CHURCH 


so.  Heresy  aiid  schism  impiiir  unity,  but  do  not 
altogetlier  destroy  it,  just  as  the  spiritual  life  of 
the  individual  is  not  altogether  destroyed  even  by 
grievous  sins. 

The  Invisible  Church. — So  far  only  the  unity  of 
that  part  of  the  Church  wliich  is  on  earth  has  been 
spoken  of.  But  members  of  the  Body  of  Christ  do 
■not  cease  to  be  united  to  Him,  and  therefore  to  eaeli 
other  after  death.  That  part  of  the  Church  which 
has  passed  away  from  earth  is  called  the  Invisible 
Cluirch,  in  contrast  to  the  Visible  Church  upon 
earth,  but  they  are  essentially  one.  With  regard 
to  the  state  of  the  departed,  very  little  direct  teach- 
ing is  recorded  to  have  been  given  bj-  Clirist  Him- 
self, and  we  must  not  presume  to  speculate  too 
much  where  knowledge  has  been  withheld.  Per- 
haps little  more  can  be  said  than  that  in  the 
parable  of  Dives  and  Lazarus  (Lk  l&^-^^)  Christ 
gave  a  general  sanction  to  current  Jewish  beliefs 
as  to  tlie  state  of  the  departed,  and  that  His  words 
to  the  penitent  thief  (Lk  23")  assure  us  that  union 
witli  Himself  is  not  impaired  by  death.  If  this  is 
so,  it  is  sufficient  justification  for  the  uni>ersal 
belief  of  early  Christians,  that  the  Invisible  Clmrcli 
is  united  to  the  Visible  by  common  worship. 

2,  Holiness. — The  Church  may  be  called  holy 
because  it  is  a  Divine  institution,  of  which  Christ 
is  the  head,  and  the  special  sphere  of  the  working 
of  the  Holy  Spirit,  or  because  its  members,  being 
united  to  Christ  as  the  branches  are  to  a  vine  or 
the  limbs  to  a  body,  are  called  to  a  life  of  holi- 
ness, and  have  a  real  though  imperfect  holiness 
infused  into  them.  Something  has  already  been 
said  on  these  first  points,  and  it  is  liardly  necessary 
to  show  at  length  that  Christ  required  holiness 
from  His  followers  (Jn  n^'"",  Mt  5«).  It  is  no  less 
evident  that  the  holiness  spoken  of  here  and  else- 
wliere  is  a  progressive  holiness. 

One  difficulty  which  has  arisen  mth  regard  to 
this  characteristic  of  the  Church  is  that  the  want 
of  holiness  in  many  of  those  who  have  fulfilled  the 
outward  conditions  of  Church  membership  has 
often  in  Church  history  led  to  attempts  to  secure 
greater  purity  by  a  sacrifice  of  external  unity. 
The  Novatians,  the  Donatists,  and  many  later 
bodies  of  separatists,  have  made  such  attempts. 
The  persistency  of  this  tendency  in  the  face  of 
such  teaching  of  Christ  as  is  contained  in  the 
parables  of  the  Tares  and  the  Draw-net  is  some- 
what surprising,  but  at  all  events  it  testifies  to  a 
depp  niider1yin<r  ronviction  of  the  necessity  of 
liiiliiio~i<.  St.  I'anl  emphasizes  the  holine.ss  of  any 
liixlv  "I  Chri-tiaii-  wliich  he  addresses,  by  giWng 
tliri'n  tlif  titlr  of  '  salnts,'  liowever  iuiperfect  many 
of  the  iMcUviduals  might  be  (Ko  V,  1  Cfo  1-,  2  Co  P, 
Eph  1',  Ph  11,  Col  1=  ;  cf.  Ac  9P).  They  are  totli 
indi\idually  and  collectively  a  holy  temple,  and 
the  habitation  of  the  Holy  Spirit  (1  Co  S'"-  "•  "  6'9, 
Eph  2"''").  And,  as  has  already  Ijeen  pointed  out, 
he  does  not  draw  any  sharp  line  of  division  be- 
tween the  imperfect  society  on  earth  and  that 
which  shall  be  perfected  hereafter  (Eph  a"-^-'^')  -.  he 
regards  both  the  indiWdual  and  the  society  as 
being  already  that  which  they  are  becoming. 


those  1 


whole  the  Church  is  holy  in  that 
cans  of  saiictiflcation  which  Christ  i 
holv  laws,  holy  teaching,  so  th i; 
feotions,  her  whole  aim  is  that  the  tenl 
teaching  shall  b«  to  promote  holiness  ,i 
life.  ...  An  university  is  learned,  or  i 
in  learning  or  riches,  although  there  mi 

■    rrich  nia 


3.  Catholicity.— Tlie  earliest  extant  use  of  the 
word  'Catholic'  as  applied  to  the  Cliurcli  is  ,ii 
Ignatius  {ad  Smyrn.  viii.  2) :  '  Wherever  the  IiIsIk,,, 
appears,  there  must  the  multitude  be;  just  as 
wherever  Christ  Jesus  Is,  there  is  the  Catliulir 
Church.'    The  natural  sense  of  the  word  wouht 


appear  to  be  that  of  the  Church  throughout  all  the 
world  as  opposed  to  tliat  in  one  place  ;  but  this  is 
not  the  sense  in  which  the  term  has  been  commonly 
used.  The  Church  has  been  called  '  Catholic '  not 
because  it  has  actually  extended  throughout  the 
world,  for  this  it  has  never  yet  done,  nor  even 
simply  because  it  is  destined  to  be  so  extended, 
but  rather  as  possessing  characteristics  Avhich  make 
it  capable  of  being  a  universal  religion,  adapted  to 
all  classes  of  men  in  all  parts  of  the  world,  and 
throughout  all  time.  Even  apart  from  particular 
words  of  Christ,  such  as  those  recorded  in  Mt  28^", 
nothing  is  more  apparent  in  His  teaching  than  that 
the  religion  which  He  taught  was  intended  to  l)e  a 
universal  religion,  in  special  contrast  to  Judaism, 
which,  like  the  religions  of  the  ancient  world  gener- 
ally, was  a  strictly  national  religion,  and  appealed 
only  to  a  part  of  mankind.  In  spite  of  the  many 
anticipations  of  universalism  which  are  to  be  found 
in  Jewish  prophecy,  the  controversy  which  took 
place  in  the  early  Church  about  the  observance  of 
the  Jewish  law  shows  mth  what  difficulty  the  idea 
was  accepted  by  those  who  had  been  Jews.  This 
quality,  again,  of  universal  applicability  to  all 
men  at  all  times  can  belong  only  to  a  DiWne  reve- 
lation sufficient  for  the  needs  of  all  mankind. 
Such  a  revelation  Christ  professed  to  give,  and  the 
Catholicity  of  the  Church  must  depend  upon  its 
faithfulness  to  the  fulness  of  the  truth  revealed  in 
Christ.  And  so,  in  addition  to  the  idea  of  universal 
extension,  the  word  Catholic  has  been  used  to  con- 
vey the  idea  of  orthodoxy  in  tlie  communion  of  the 
Church.  The  well-known  definition  of  Cyril  of  Jeni- 
saleiii  {Cat.  xviii.  23)  co-ordinates  these  two  ideas. 
'  The  Church  is  called  Catholic  because  it  extends 
throughout  the  whole  world  .  .  .  because  it  teaches 
completely  all  doctrines  which  men  ought  to  know 
.  .  .  because  it  brings  into  subjection  to  godliness 
the  whole  race  of  men  .  .  .  and  because  it  treats 
and  heals  every  sort  of  sins  .  .  .  and  has  in  it 
every  form  of  virtue.'  In  this  sense  the  Church 
was  called  Catholic  wlien  it  was  very  far  from 
being  extended  even  over  a  considerable  part  of 
the  world,  and  the  term  can  be  applied  even  to  the 
Church  in  a  particular  place,  as  being  in  communion 
with  and  possessing  the  characteristics  of  the  whole. 
So  in  the  Martyrdom  of  Pohjcarp  he  is  spoken  of 
as  '  Bishop  of  the  Catholic  Church  that  is  in 
Smyrna.'  The  Oliurch  or  any  part  of  it  approaches 
the  ideal  of  Catholicity  in  proportion  as  it  possesses 
all  the  qualities  whicli  are  necessan'  to  make  it 
literally  universal ;  and,  on  the  other  iiand,  'eveiy- 
thing  whicli  hinders  or  lessens  the  capacity  of  the 
Church  to  be  universal,  everything  which  deprives 
it  of  part  of  the  full  truth  or  inserts  in  its  teaching 
any  thing -which  does  not  belong  to  the  truth,  every- 
thing which  cramps  its  power  of  getting  rid  of  sm 
and  increasing  godliness,  has  a  tendency  to  draw 
the  Church  away  from  the  ideal  of  its  Catholic  life. 
To  become  such  that  it  could  not  appeal  to  the 
whole  world  or  to  all  classes  of  men,  to  deny  essen- 
tial parts  of  the  revealed  faith,  to  become  in  its 
accepted  principles  a  necessary  instrument  of  some 
sins  or  a  necessary  opponent  of  some  virtues,  would 
be,  in  proportion  as  this  was  wilful  and  deliberate 
and  fully  carried  out,  a  sinking  below  the  niini- 
nniiii  which  the  note  of  Catholicity  requires'  (Stone, 
7//r  Chiirrh,  p.  59). 

4.  Apostolicity. — It  has  already  been  pointed  out 
tliat  Clirist  selected  twelve  of  His  followers  to 
stand  in  a  specially  close  relaticm  to  Iliiii'-elf,  and 
to  be  charged  with  a  -]]i(  ial  iiii^-ion.  In  what 
is  probably  the  earlir-t  aicMmt  ..i  tli.ii-  aiipoint- 
ment  iMk"  .•?").  it  i-  -ai.l  tlioy  xveiv  to  -lie  with 
liini,'  ami  that  He  wi.til.l  ■  -i-iid  them  forth.'  Hence 
tliey  were  ealle.i  Aj.o.tle-  i  l,k  6'3).  The  nature  of 
this  relation  and  tiiis  inission  must  now  be  ex- 
amined in  order  to  ascertain  the  sense  in  which  the 


CHURCH 


CHURCH 


329 


Church  may  be  called  Apostolic.  It  may  first  be 
noticed  that  a  sharp  distinction  has  sometimes 
been  drawn  between  the  position  of  the  Twelve  as 
representative  disciples,  that  is,  as  standing  in  a 
specially  close  relationship  to  Christ,  of  the  same 
kind,  however,  as  that  of  other  disciples,  and  their 
position  as  Apostles,  that  is,  as  men  sent  forth  on 
a  special  mission.  No  such  sharp  distinction  is 
drawn  in  the  NT,  nor  does  it  appear  to  be  neces- 
sary. The  two  things  are  spoken  of  in  the  passage 
of  St.  Mark  just  referred  to  as  two  sides  of  the 
same  fact,  not  as  two  separable  things.  The  close 
discipleship  was  necessary  'to  fit  the  Apostles  for 
their  mission,  and  it  therefore  formed  part  of  it. 

The  nature  of  this  Apostolic  mission  is  stated  in 
the  most  comprehensive  ternis  in  Jn  20'-'  '  As  the 
Father  hath  sent  me,  even  so  send  I  you  ' ;  that  is 
to  say,  it  was  the  task  of  carrying  on  upon  earth 
the  work  of  Christ  Himself.  It  seems  to  be  of 
little  or  no  consequence  to  our  estimate  of  the 
nature  of  the  Apostolic  functions  whether  others 
besides  the  Twelve  were  present  upon  the  occasion 
when  these  particular  words  were  spoken.  The 
Twelve  are  frequently  called  '  the  disciples,'  especi- 
ally in  the  Fourth  Gospel.  And  the  mission  of  the 
Apostles  is  not  a  separate  thing  from  the  mission 
of  the  Church.  If,  as  St.  Paul  so  constantly 
teaches,  the  Church  is  one  body  with  many 
members,  the  acts  of  the  organs  of  the  body  are 
the  acts  of  the  body  itself.  St.  Paul  insists  equally 
strongly  upon  the  unity  of  the  whole  and  the 
differentiation  of  function  within  the  whole.  And 
so  the  point  to  be  considered  is  not  whether  a 
separate  mission  was  given  to  the  Apostles  apart 
from  that  of  the  whole  Church,  but  rather  what 
special  functions  of  the  Church  were  committed  to 
the  Apostles  to  be  performed,  by  themselves  or 
under  their  direction,  on  the  Church's  behalf. 

(n)  One  principal  object  with  which  the  Apostles 
were  sent  out  in  the  first  instance  was  undoubtedly 
that  they  might  teach  (Mk  3").  And  it  is  equally 
clear  that  this  was  not  merely  a  temporary,  but  a 
permanent  function.  Even  the  special  directions 
given  to  them  on  their  first  sending  out  (Mt  10) 
are  not  intelligible  unless  a  continuance  of  the 
work  of  teaching  be  understood.  And  the  Twelve 
were  specially  trained  by  close  and  continual  inter- 
course with  Christ  for  the  work  of  being  ^vitnesses  to 
Him  (Ac  1"),  and  it  is  clear  that  they  considered  this 
as  one  of  their  special  functions  (\^  2^  3'=  4^  etc.). 
And  although  this  personal  witness  to  the  actions 
and  words  of  Christ  was  necessarily  confined  to 
those  who  had  been  with  Him,  the  transmission  of 
the  witness  and  the  function  of  teaching  in  general 
are  permanent.  The  eonnnission  given  by  Christ  to 
the  Twelve  to  make  disciples  of  all  the  nations  (Mt 
28'"-=")  is  one  which  was  not,  and  could  not  be, 
accomplished  by  themselves  in  person,  and  it 
implies  the  continuance  of  the  teaching  office  of 
the  Church  until  this  end  is  accomplished.  So  it 
IS  recognized  as  one  of  the  special  duties  of  those 
who  were  appointed  by  the  Apostles  to  take  part  in 
their  work  {I  Ti  3'-'-  «  5>'  6-'»,  2  Ti  1'^  2=,  Tit  2i5  etc.). 
It  IS  this  teaching  work  of  the  Church  which  corre- 
sponds to  the  prophetical  office  of  Christ  Himself. 

(h)Thc  worship  of  the  C/(«,r/i '—The  Saor.iments, 
which  were  especially  cciiiiiiiitlcl  to  I  lie  Apostles, 
have  been  spoken  of  .-is  -,„.;,!  ;,,(,  ,„,  ,.--,irv  to 
the  existence  and  cohcsidn  .t  i  lir  Cliuivli  .'ik  a 
visible  society.     They  .-nr  ,-il-, ,  iii.;ni-  li\-  ul.irh  tlif 

relation  of  the  C1mi<li   i.,  i,,.,l   ,~  .■•ni ,-,{    -n,,! 

channels  by  wliici  I  lli,-  m.liv  i,lii;,  I  i,.,ci\..  Huii,,. 
grace.  The  wcii-^lii|,  ,.f  11,,^  (  Imirli  .runv-  ;iii,| 
culminates  in  the  Ku.li.ii  isi  I  h.- snccL-ilh- .ii.iM.iiii,'.! 
action  by  which  the  Clunch  t;ikes  part  in  the  sacri- 
fice offered  by  Christ.  It  makes  a  memorial  of 
that  part  of  His  sacrificial  ^  ork  which  has  been 
accomplished  in.  time  (Lk  22-»,   1  Co  11»),  and  it 


unites  itself  with  Him  in  His  present  mediatorial 
work  of  pleading  that  sacrifice  in  heaven  (He  T^-"^). 
So  the  whole  Church,  as  the  Body  of  Christ,  takes 
part  in  His  priestly  work  (1  P  2',  Rev  5»- "),  and 
this  has  always  been  emphasized  by  the  language 
of  all  the  liturgies.  See  artt.  LoRD'.s  Supper, 
Sacraments. 

(c)  Discipline. — A  visible  society  could  hardly 
exist,  or  at  least  continue  to  exist,  without  some 
form  of  discipline.  Christ  sanctioned  for  His 
followers  (Mt  18"),  not  only  individual  remon- 
strance, which  may  be  considered  as  the  gentlest 
form  in  which  discipline  can  be  administered  (cf. 
1  Th  5»),  but  also,  in  the  case  of  the  failure  of  this, 
the  collective  censure  of  the  community  (cf.  1  Ti 
2-"',  Gal  2"),  and  in  the  last  resort  the  exercise  of 
the  natural  right  of  a  society  to  expel  one  of  its 
members  (cf.  1  Co  5',  2  Co  2'>-'»).  These  last  pas- 
sages alone  would  suffice  to  show,  what  is  certain 
enough,  that  the  power  of  excommunication  was 
recognized  and  practised  in  the  Church  from  the 
earliest  times. 

A  still  more  emphatic  commission  was  given  by 
Christ  to  St.  Peter  (Mt  W\  and  to  '  the  disciples' 
(18^*).  Whatever  may  be  the  exact  meaning  of 
these  words,  it  is  difficult  to  give  them  any  inter- 
pretation which  does  not  include  the  idea  of  juris- 
diction. At  all  events  the  words  in  Jn  20---  -*  relate 
directly  to  discipline,  and  are  of  the  most  unquali- 
fied character.  If  the  historical  character  of  these 
Sassages  is  admitted,  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  a 
isciplinary  commission  was  given.  There  have 
been,  however,  differences  of  opinion  as  to  the 
persons  to  whom  it  was  given.  The  chief  views 
held  on  this  point  may  be  roughly  classed  under 
four  heads. 

(«)  It  has  been  held  that  the  position  of  St.  Peter  was  different 
in  liind  from  that  of  the  other  Apostles,  and  that  jurisdiction 
was  given  directly  to  him  alone,  and  to  the  other  Apostles 
through  him,  and  that  the  same  holds  g;ood  of  his  successors. 
(^)  That  jurisdiction  was  given  directly  to  all  the  Apostles,  and 
is  inherent  in  their  office  and  in  that  of  their  successors,  but 
that  it  can  be  legitimately  exercised  only  by  those  who  preserve 
the  unity  of  the  Church  by  being  in  union  with  St.  Peter  and 
his  successors,  (.y)  That  jurisdiction  was  given  equally  to  all  the 
Apostles  and  their  successors  as  the  Divniely  appointed  organs 
of  the  Church,  and  that  only  a  primacy  of  honour  belonged  to 
St.  Peter  or  is  due  to  his  successors.  '  All  the  Apostles  \vere 
equal  in  mission,  equal  in  commission,  equal  in  power,  equal  in 
honour,  equal  in  all  things,  except  priority  of  order,  without 
which  no  society  can  well  subsist'  (Bramhall).  (I)  That  the 
Apostles  received  no  gift  of  jurisdiction  from  Christ  Himself, 
and  that  any  powers  which  they  or  their  successors  exercised 
were  gradually  conferred  upon  them  by  the  act  of  the  Church  or 
of  parts  of  it. 

Closely  connected  with  directly  disciplinary 
functions  are  those  general  powers  of  direction 
and  administration  which  must  be  exercised  in  a 
society  by  some  persons  appointed  for  the  purpose. 
That  they  were  used  by  the  Apostles,  even  with 
regard  to  secular  matters,  is  plain  from  the  Acts 
and  Epistles.  The  Apostolic  backgiound  is  every- 
where present  in  the  former  book,  and  St.  Paul 
assumes  such  powers  throughout  (e.g.  1  Co  IP'). 
It  is  by  the  exercise  of  such  powers  of  discipline 
and  government  that  the  Church  participates  in 
the  kingly  office  of  Christ. 

We  may  therefore  conclude  that  the  Church 
may  be  called  Apostolic  in  so  far  as  it  has  held  fast 
to  the  teaching,  worship,  and  discipline  of  the 
Church  as  intrusted  by  Christ  to  the  Apostles,  and 
according  to  the  order  established  by  them. 

jVo7'F— r/i''"nivf -'<•/>»>•.•;.•  1)1-;  :<i->  >.»•/«.— The  word  'church' 
i-  iMiiii.l  ill  :i     r.  Ml  '  ,ni.  1 1  .  i  i.  .rm .  iii  the  Teutonic  and  Slavonic 

1  111.  nil-..  .  ,-  !|.,   ,     ,, I I  ,-«j:V<o-/«,  which  has  passed 

nil.  l.iiiii    III. I    lii  i..    1.1     .        111.1  Celtic  languages.    There 


330 


CHURCH 


CIRCUMCISION 


ttx  beiny  understood.  The  deriva- 
'j.y.0^  is  not  free  from  philological 
sutHcient  historical  explanation  of 
common  Greek  word  should  have 


\x^-,'  "thcr 

thederi\atbiii  "I  tin-  word  'chl 
The  word  isueA^o-iot  is  commoi 
of  an  assembly  of  the  people 
(!«««>.!»/)  bv  the  ■  ' 
theLXX 


; there 


the  : 


1  betv 


words,  and  in  the  later  books  .li  the  (IT  tVAdA  almost  disap- 
pears, and  knh(il  or  ixxX-niriic  combines  both  shades  of  meaninj;. 
There  is  little  or  no  evidence  as  to  the  precise  contemporary 
ideas  which  would  have  been  conveyed  to  a  Jew  of  our  Lord's 
time  bv  the  use  of  these  words,  but  they  could  not  fail  to  recall 
the  thought  of  Israel  as  the  congregation  of  God,  and  to  suggest 
the  idea  of  a  Divine  society. 

It  has  often  been  supposed  that  the  word  ixxi.r,irix  was  in- 
tended to  convey  the  idea  of  a  people  or  a  number  of  persons 
called  out  of  the  world  for  the  special  service  of  God.  The 
chosen  people  and  the  idea  of  the  special 


election  and  vocatii 
tures,  but  they  ne' 

to  the  assemhl\ ,  w 
disappears,  and  th' 


f  Christians  occur  constantly  in  the  Scrij 
■  appear  to  be  connected  with  the  words 
1  both  these  words  the  idea  of  the  summons 
■iginal  significance,  practically 
■      ■    ••  ■■•'-»,  or 


Church- 
The  fact  that 
he  two  passa;::-' 
o  suppose  tha 


f  >und  in  the  Gospels  only  in 
■  y  >  J  I  ;  ilfady  discussed,  has  led  some 
iiic.^.^  l.„^^.i_^^  are  later  insertions  into  the 
■,  made  at  a  time  when  the  idea  of  the  Christkan 
society  had  been  developed,  and  when  it  was  desired  to  ad<l 
authoritv  to  the  idea  by  a  reference  to  the  teaching  of  Christ. 
If,  however,  the  view  taken   aliovc  nf  the  ^'.-mral  tcnrlency  of 

Christ's  work  and  te.achiii.-  i-i  r.  rr- ■',  }V<  - '--"i  with  the 

Church  does  not  depend   ui.  .u   li;  -■  ;  -  .  i  ,--i^   -  .■nl\.  and 
there  would  be  much  dilli    ,  ,  hit  this 

t«rra   and  no   other  was   nn       ^-  >  '    ii-.^tian 

society  from  the  time  of  thi  \ih>-i',.,  ,-,.\  i  I-,  iil.  --  it  were 
the  natural  equivalent  of  Aratn.iic  l^nn^  u^^.a  i.>  c  i.ti^i  Himself. 
LiTER.\TURB.— The  number  of  books  which  deal  with  the  sub- 
ject of  the  Church  from  exactly  the  point  of  view  taken  in  this 
article  may  not  be  very  large,  but  the  literature  which  bears 
more  or  less  upon  the  original  constitution  and  characteristics 
of  the  Church  is  of  stupendous  extent ;  and  the  most  that  can 
be  done  here  is  to  mention  a  very  few  specimens  of  different 
classes  of  books  which  relate  to  '■* 
In  the  first  place,  most  comnienl 
exegesis  of  the  pa-^-a-^es  which  1 


Tlic  ^vr 


pbrtant  works 
there  was  a  l'i 
authority  and  ' 
the  time  of  II 
was  especially 
produced  abun 
the  Middle  Ages  \ 


"f  the  question 
riind   naturallv 


minuteness,  especially  by  German  v.  r  w-  been 

a  great  abundance  of  ^neral  Chur.^i.   i!.,,...^. li  often 

contain  discussions  on  the  doctrine  of  the  Clmrcti.  This  is  also 
dealt  with  in  all  treatises  on  Christian  doctrine  to  a  greater  or 
less  extent,  and  from  all  points  of  view.  The  books  mentioned 
below  must  be  regarded  merely  as  examples  of  the  diflterent 
kinds  of  works  in  which  the  subject  may  be  studied. 

Early  Whitsrs:  Patres  AriostoticHed.  Lightfoot);  Irenaius, 
c.  Hceret.  iii.  1-9 ;  Tertullian,  ae  Prcescr.  HctrH. ;  Cyprian,  de 
Unitate  Ecda.,  de  Lapsus;  Augustine,  de  Baptismo,  and  c. 
DonatUtat. 

6EXER.\L  CauRcn  H/STORTBS:  Neander,  HMorn  nf  fh- 
Planting  and  Training  of  the  Christian  Church  (Kii_-  n 
(1851):  Gieseler,  Compendium  of  SccUs.  Hist.  (Eng. 


Renan,  Oj 


JP'I 


History  o/ the  Christian  <'hnyri>  n 

Cauncii  Okgaxizatix     i 
kath.  Kirche.  (1857);  I,i-liti 
Hatch,  Organization  of  fli-    /.  ■ 
Sohm,  Kirchenrecht  (189i) ;  t..iri-. 
CAiircA  (18SS) ;  Lindsay,  The  Chu, 
DocTRiXA'L  Books  {Gexerai.)  : 
Handbuch  der  Kath.  Dogmatik 
Theoloqiir   I>n.,inalica-  (lSf>I);    TT' 
Ther.rn.r'  fl-'i-l:  ff.-!tt-i-r-->   t'  - 


1894) ;  > 
0/  the  '.\i 


ampendix 

I  Christianisme  (18S3);  Schaff,  Hfs(... 

7c  .4r,f  (Eng.  tr.  I  -  I 
'.■r,-(lS93);  Cheethaii 


•^leJiung  der  Alt- 
Ministry  (1868); 

I ■/„„■,■)„■,  (IS-^n); 


Articles  ( 


);  Stone,  OiUlin 


(18SS);  Gibson,  T/ie  n 
of  Christian  /'.  ;,.  •  i : 

BOOKS  BfA 
THIS  ARTh  ;  ' 

Seeley,  £«■<  y/         ,.         ,        .   .^.„„„,, 

Hort,    The    i:l,r..Jn,„    /;,,  .   ,,,    (1893);    Moberlv,  MinisUrial 
Priesthood    (IsliT) ;    liobertson.   Kegnutn  Dei   (1902);    TvrreU 

"■    ' "~  J.  H.  Maude. 


rsTVELY  OX  TBE  SUBJECT  OF 
nferences  de  CEglise  (1849); 
1  Catholic  Claims  (1898) ; 


Green,  The  Church  of  Christ  (1902). 


CHDZA  (Xoufos).— The  firtVpoTros  or  house-steward 
of  Herod  the  tetrarch,  and  husband  of  Joanna 
one  of  tite  ^vomen  -who,  having  been  liealed  either 
of  a  sieknes.-;  or  of  an  evil  spirit,  attached  them- 
h^elves  to  Jesus  and  '  ministered  unto  him  of  their 
substance'  (Lk  8').  Chuza  is  identified  by  Mr. 
Stanley  Cook  [Glnsunrij  of  Aranmk  Inscriptions, 
Cambr.  1898)  \vith  the  father  of  one  9ay>'an  \vho.se 
family  erected  a  rock-cut  tomb  at  el-flegr  in 
Arabia,  with  the  inscription  :  mnx  n;i3  12  j-nS  '  To 
Hai/y&n,  son  of  KiizA,  his  posterity  (have  erected 
this  tomb).'  The  monument  is  probably  of  the  1st 
cent.  B.C.  or  A.D.  Blass  (Philology  of  the  Gospels), 
on  the  authority  of  I,  a  7tli  cent.  MS  of  the  Vulgat«, 
identifies  the  name  with  the  Greek  KuSiat ;  but  this 
seems  more  than  doubtful.  Chuza  may  have  been 
of  a  Nabatffian  family,  married  to  a  Jewish  wife. 
Joanna  is  also  mentioned  (Lk  •24'")  as  one  of  the 
women  who  came  early  to  the  sepulchre  to  anoint 
the  Lord's  body  (see  JoANNA). 


CIRCUMCISION  (n^'^D,  Tepnoi^n)-  —  With  tlie 
origin  *  of  this  rite  we  are  not  here  concerned  ;  as 
regards  the  three  main  theories— that  it  -svas  a 
tribal  mark,  that  it  was  of  the  nature  of  a  sacri- 
fice to  the  deity,  and  that  it  was  practised  from 
hygienic  motives — see  the  Literature  at  the  end  of 
this  article. 

Circumcision  was  very  far  from  being  confined 
to  the  Hebrews ;  it  was  practised  by  the  ancient 
Arabs  (Eusebius,  Prcep.  Evangclica,  vi.  11 ;  W.  K. 
Smith,  Rcl.  of  the  Semites",  p.  328  ;  Wellhausen, 
Meste  Arab.  Heident.^  pp.  174-176 ;  H.  H.  Ploss, 
Das  Kind  in  Branch  mid  Sitte  der  Vdlker,  i.  295- 
300  :  Bertherand,  Medecine  et  Hygiinc  des  Arabes, 
pp.  306-314)  as  well  as  by  the  Moiiamniedans  (Nol- 
deke,  Sketches  from  Eastern  Hist.  p.  68),  by  the 
Ethiopians  (Philostorgius,  Hi.-<t.  Ecvlcs.  iii.  4),  by 
the  Kaffirs  (J.  G.  Frazer,  Golden  Bough-,  i.  327) 
and  other  African  races  (Hartmann,  Die  Vdlker 
Afrikas,  i.  178;  Ploss,  op.  cit.  i.  295  f.),  by  many 
central  Australian  tribes  (J.  G.  Frazer,  Totemism, 
p.  47 ;  Lagrange,  Etudes sur  les  religions semitiques, 
p.  239  B'. ;  Ploss,  op.  cit.  ii.  250,  255,  who  says  it  is 
practised  by  tlie  central,  northern,  and  north- 
western tribes,  but  not  by  those  in  the  east  and 
south-west),  by  the  Egyptians  (Ebers,  .iEgypten 
und  die  Biichcr  Hose's,  i.  278  ;  Lagrange,  op.  cit. 
p.  241  «.),  and  by  the  Aztecs  and  other  Central 
American  races  (Jewish  Encyc.  iv.  97),  etc. 

Till'  ureat  dillerence  between  the  national  ob- 
-.  I  \  aiic..  of  the  rite  by  the  Hebrews  (however  one 
III.  \  '  ck  to  account  for  the  somewhat  conflicting 
-t:iM,MntsinGn  .7'=,  E.x  4==- =«,  and  Jos  5= ;  cf.  Jn 
7--)  -1;  and  that  of  other  peoples  was,  firstly,  that 
its  significance  was  wholly  religious, — the  outward 
symbol  of  a  covenant  ■with  God, — it  was  a  religious 
act,  whereas,  among  other  nations,  wliatever  the 
ii-.i.son  may  have  been  for  practising'!  iiciiiiicivii  Hi.  it 
1  i  id  not  occupy  a  position  like  this  :;     ihI  -.c..ii.lly. 

Its  very  early  origin  is  shown  by  the  fart  1 11..1  t  li.-  1  it'  \v  as 
•■""v  performed  with  a  stone  implement,  ^m-c  Unjhui,  II 117*', 
I.  i- iliiicidung';  cf.  0os52. 

t  worthy  that  as  a  phxjsical  act  circumcision  is  not 
I  in  the  book  of  Deuteronomy,  though  it  is  used  in  a 
I  .     .r   sense,  1016  SO'".- 
;  A  ccrutin  religious  element,  though  in  quite  a  subordinate 


CIRCUMCISION 


CIRCUMSTANTIALITY 


331 


that  the  Hebrews  performed  circumcision  on  the 
eightli  day  after  birth,*  i.e.  in  infancy,  whereas 
among  otlier  races  it  almost  invarialily  took  place 
at  the  age  of  puberty.t  It  is  possible  that  this 
diflerence  between  the  Mosaic  Code  and  the  usage 
of  others  was  due  to  the  more  liumane  character 
of  the  former,  which  enjoined  the  rite  at  a  time 
when  least  painful. t 

It  was  the  custom  among  the  Hebrews  a.t  all 
times,  as  it  is  among  modern  Jews,§  to  give  a 
boy  II  a  name  at  his  circumcision  IT  (see  Lk  2^'). 
The  rite  had  to  be  performed  on  the  eighth  day 
after  birth,  even  though  that  day  happened  to  be  a 
Sabbath ;  technically  this  was  a  breaking  of  the 
Sabbatli,  but  the  law  concerning  circumcision  took 

Frecedence  here  (see  Christ's  words  in  Jn  V"'-). 
f,  however,  from  one  cause  or  another,  cq.  sick- 
ness, a  child's  circumcision  had  to  be  postponed, 
the  rite  could  under  no  circumstances  be  performed 
on  the  Sabbath.**  In  the  time  of  Christ  the  cere- 
mony was  performed  in  the  house ;  by  the  7th 
cent,  it  had  become  customary  to  perform  it  in  the 
synagogue  ;  the  modern  Jews,  however,  have  gone 
back  to  the  earlier  custom,  and  have  their  children 
circumcised  at  home.tt  How  fully  the  Law  was  ful- 
filled in  the  case  of  Christ  is  seen  from  Lk  P^  '  On 
the  eighth  day  they  came  to  circumcise  the  child 
[John] '  (cf .  Ac  T,  Ph  3'^),  and  Lk  2-' '  And  when  eight 
days  were  fulfilled  for  circumcising  him,  his  name 
was  called  Jesus '  (cf .  Gal  4^). 

Whatever  may  have  been  the  original  object 
and  signification  <if  <-iic\iiiK-isi(iii,:]:|  it  liad  lost  its 

primary  meaniiiL'  I'Hiu  liit'iir  [\\i-  In f  imr  I.dviI. 

By  the  time  of  thr  UM.n  l,,iii;ii,  rxilr  ii  had  Imjci, 

one  of  the  distiii.^ulslnii-  maik^  i.l  .luclaisui  :  yrt, 
in  spite  of  this,  il  is  remarkable  to  hnd  that  in 
later  days  there  arose  a  divergence  of  opinion 
among  the  Jews  as  to  the  need  of  circumcision 
for  proselytes.  Hellenistic  Jews  did  not  enforce 
circumcision  in  the  case  of  proselytes,  affirming 
that  baptism  was  sufficient  (see  the'  Jewish  Enci/c. 
iv.  94,  95,  where  further  details  are  given)  ;  the 
Palestinian  Jews,  on  the  other  hand,  would  not 
admit  jiroselylt's  Nvilli<.ut  cinumcisi.,!].  The  view 
of  thelalternltii.Kitrly  w,,n  (l.r.lay,  but  the  epi- 
sode tcstilirs  tii  the  la.  I  llial.  in  llir  (ipinion  of  a 
very  influential  luid  iiiip(jrtaiit  rlass  nf  Jews,  cir- 
cumcision and  bajitism  were  analogous  rites.  Now 
there  was  one  element  in  circumcision  which  may 
possibly  have  been  of  greater  significance  than  is 
often  supposed.  It  was  an  essential  part  of  the 
rite  that  blood  should  be  shed  (cf.  the  '  Mezizah  '- 
cup,  an  illustration  of  which  can  be  seen  in  the 
Jewish  Encyc.  iv.  99) ;  but  blood  reitresented  life, 
was  even  identiMed  with  life  (Lv  17"-",  see  art. 
Blood);  itis  thcnlmv  ,lilli,ull  to  get  away  from 
the  conviction  thai  \vlirn  a  .hild  was  circumci.sed 
he  was  consecnil rd  to  (....1  l.y  the  fact  that  his 
life  (i.e.  under  the  .symbol  of  Ijlood)  was  ofiered  to 


In  later  Judaism,  when  sacrifices  had  ceased,  circumcision  and 
the  keeping  ot  the  Sabbath  were  regarded  as  substitutes  for 
sacrifices. 

*  This  applies  also  to  the  Samaritans. 

t  An  exception  to  this  is  found  amon^  the  Persians,  who 
circumcise  their  children  at  anv  age  from  eight  days  to  ten 
years,  though  it  is  unusual  to  do  so  at  the  earliest  age  (see, 
further,  Ploss,  oj).  clt.  p.  248  fl.). 

*  ■""    Bertherand,   itidecine   des   Arahes,   p.    306 ;   Driver, 


■  Genem,  p.  190. 


ailed  Reform  J 


304-307  ;  Aslier,  up.  eit.  p.' 
also  be  found  in  Jewish  En 


Review,  Nov.  1904. 


God.  The  fact  of  circumcision  being  called  '  the 
sign  of  the  covenant '  (Gn  17"  K-a  niN  ;  cf.  also  tlie 
niodern  name  rhy^  nnj,  and  the  words  in  the  ser- 
vice at  a  circumcision  :  '  From  this  eighth  day  and 
henceforth  may  his  blood  be  accepted,  and  may 
the  Lord  his  God  be  with  him')*  supports  this 
view,  for  no  covenant  was  ratified  without  the 
shedding  of  blood, t  i.e.  the  symbolic  laying  down 
of  a  life. 

If  circumcision,  then,  was  in  a  certain  sense  a> 
death  (or  at  least  a  symbol  of  life  laid  down),  there 
is  a  very  striking  analogy  between  it  and  bap- 
tism ;  cf.  the  words  of  St.  Paul  in  Ro  &^-  '  Are 
ye  ignorant  that  all  we  who  were  baptized  into 
Christ  were  baptized  into  his  death?  We  were 
buried  therefore  with  him  through  baptism  into 
death  :  that  like  as  Christ  was  raised  from  the 
dead  through  the  glory  of  the  Father,  .so  we  also 
might  walk  in  newness  of  life  .  .  . '  Both  circum- 
cision and  baptism  were  a  figurative  death,  by 
means  of  wliicli  a  new  sjiiritual  life  was  reached. 
In  tlie  later  .Icwish  liln.iture  this  view  was  held 
with  regard  to  (•ir(  unu  isimi,  as  the  following  quo- 
tation, for  example,  will  show:  'According  to 
Pirke  R.  El.  .  .  .  Pharaoh  prevented  the  Hebrew 
slaves  from  performing  the  rite;  but  when  the 
Passover  time  came  and  brought  them  deliverance, 
they  underwent  circumcision,  and  mingled  the 
blood  of  the  Paschal  lamb  with  that  of  the  Abra- 
liamic  covenant,  wherefore  (Ezk  16")  God  repeats 
the  words  :  In  thy  blood  live.'t  The  same  thought 
is  brouylit  out  in  tlie  iiindern  'service  at  a  circum- 
i-i-^inii,"  when  till'  .!/.;/;</ 1;  says,  in  reference  to  the 
niwly  nr.  iniaisiMl  :  ■  I.ei  I  liy  father  and  thy  mother 
rej.iir..,  ami  lei  her  Ihal  l>,iie  thee  be  glatl ;  and  it 
is  said.  And  I  ))assed  by  thee,  and  I  saw  thee  wel- 
tering in  thy  blood,  and  I  said  unto  thee,  "  In  thy 
blood  live." 'II 

Taking  these  facts  together,  we  must  regard  the 
circumcision  of  Christ  as  of  the  highest  signifi- 
cance ;  for  it  was  not  only  a  fulfilling  of  the  Law, 
but  inasmuch  as  it  was  symbolic  of  a  life  laid 
down,  it  must  also  be  regarded  as  a  'parable'  of 
the  Crucifi.xion  (cf.  Milton,  Poetical  Works,  'Upon 
the  Circumcision';  Keble,  Christian  Year,  'The 
Circumcision  of  Christ'). 

LlTERATUlsE.— H.  H.  Ploss,  Dns  Kind   in.  Bmiieh  vnd    Sitle 


rite  in  the  Hchn  ,    „,i 

•:       •     .1.      ■,"/    .            ;    sllif.  is 

also  useful;  liar]..  ^,   / 

"i       '           ....  1905, 

140t.,  andthelii.  lin  1.  :  i 

-  .    .  t    i,            ,  !  ..  ,.i..i,    ;  "  1,  |,|,.  189- 

191;  Bertherand,  W 

1            .  ra'i>,  1855, 

gives  man.v  ian,.  ~h,,      ■ 

among  Arab.s  u. ;i>  , 

'''".':.'.    J-  '.'"nnb'with 

Algeria.    There.    J  ■-  - 

;..■...  ■..  !-•  L'.iili.Tcd  here 

and  there  in.).  II.  IM.,,, 

nil-  ;."  '. ■..'.!',   '  wils.,Leip- 

zig,  1860.    The  .inu  1,,  m 

U,v...L^...un.'..^,....,,.J,,l,notogl 

bv  Nowack  and  I'.fnzin-.  r 

in  Hamburger's  RE.  shoiil 

'  he  co'nsullcd';''cf.'also'!irt.''circum- 

cision  '  in  Hastings'  DB  an 

1  in  the  Kiiaic.  Bibl.  and  the  Jewish 

Emydopcdia. 

W.  0.  E.  OE.STKRLEY. 

CIRCUMSTANTIALITY  IN  THE  PARABLES.— 

A  paralde  consists  of  two  meinl.ers,  viz.  an  illus- 
tration and  adidaclie  pari,  which,  according  to  the 
view  we  hold,  may  be  calleil  either  the  interpreta- 
tion or  the  application.  Both  members  are  neces- 
sary to  make  the  parable  complete,  though  the 
didactic  part  need  not  be  expressly  stated,  the 
circum.stanees  in  which  the  illustration  is  given 
making    its    purpose    plain.      Unfortunately   the 

*  Singer,  (tp.  cit.  p.  307. 

t  See  Trumbull,  The  Blood  Covenant,  passim  ;  W.  R.  Smith, 
op.  cit.  p.  314 f..  Kinship  and  Marriat/e  in  Early  Arabia-, 
p.  .Wff. 

J  (/c/('i.vA.  Encftc.  iv.  93K 

i  An  official  speciall.v  qualified  to  perform  the  rile. 

II  Singer,  op.  cit.  p.  305. 


332 


CIRCUMSTANTIALITY 


CIRCUMSTANTIALITY 


liaiubles  of  Christ  are  mostly  preserved  only  in 
fragmentary  form.  We  have  the  illustrations,  but 
not  the  lessons  they  were  designed  to  enforce  ;  and 
as  we  are  uncertain  as  to  the  connexion  in  wliich 
those  illustrations  were  given,  it  is  sometimes  diffi- 
cult to  make  sure  what  Christ  intended  to  teach 
by  them.  But  if  the  Evangelists  give  little,  some- 
times even  a  misleading,  light  as  to  the  context  in 
which  the  parables  were  spoken,  they  record  the 
illustrative  portions  of  them  with  much  fulness  of 
detail.  Particularly  is  this  the  case  with  those 
parables  in  which  the  illustration  is  in  the  form 
of  a  narrative.  Tlie  story  is  told  with  much  cir- 
cumstantiality. Many  little  touches  are  intro- 
duced to  heighten  the  ett'ect.  We  are  almost 
inclined  to  forget,  at  times,  that  the  story  is  told 
with  a  purpose,  so  fully  and  circumstantially  are 
its  details  narrated.  Among  the  Evangelists,  St. 
Luke  is  the  most  pronounced  in  the  circumstan- 
tiality with  which  lie  reproduces  the  stories  which 
Christ  introduced  in  His  parables.  He  likes  to 
linger  over  them.  He  elaborates  with  a  fulness 
of  detail  that  brings  the  scene  \-ividIy  before  the 
mind.  But  though  St.  Luke  is  pre-eminent  in 
this  respect,  all  the  Synoptists  present  the  illus- 
trative portion  of  the  parables  with  more  or  less 
circumstantiality.  And  this  feature  of  the  parables 
suggests  some  questions  which  we  may  consider 
under  the  following  heads:  —  (1)  In  how  far  is 
the  circumstantiality  of  the  narratives  authentic  ? 

(2)  If  we  accept  the  traditional  principle  of  para- 
bolical 'interpretation,'  can  we  fix  a  limit  beyond 
which  it  is  illegitimate  to  interpret  the  details? 

(3)  If  we  reject  this  principle  of  parabolical  '  inter- 
pretation,' can  we  meet  the  objection  that  the 
circumstantiality  of  the  illustrations  is  empty 
ornament? 

1.  The  question  of  the  authenticity  of  the  cir- 
cumstantiality of  the  illustrations  is  in  many  cases 
forced  upon  us  by  the  fact  that  details  which  are 
recorded  by  one  Evangelist  are  omitted  by  another 
For  instance,  in  the  parable  of  the  Sower,  St. 
Matthew  and  St.  Mark  say  of  tlie  seed  that  fell 
by  the  wayside,  that  the  fowls  came  and  devoured 
it  up,  but  St.  Luke  adds  that  it  was  trodden 
down  (8°).  Again,  in  the  parable  of  the  Patch 
on  the  Old  Garment,  St.  Matthew  and  St.  Mark 
describe  the  patch  as  a  piece  of  undressed  cloth, 
while  St.  LuKe  heightens  the  folly  of  the  pro- 
ceeding by  making  the  patch  first  be  cut  out  of 
a  new  garment  (d-rb  i/iariov  KawoO  o-xiVos,  5'"). 
In  many  cases  we  find  tlie  explanation  of  such 
variations  in  the  details  of  the  parables  in  the 
desire  of  the  Evangelists  to  emphasize  the  point 
and  heighten  the  ell'ect  of  the  illustration.  Such 
is  possibly  tlie  case  with  the  examples  just  given, 
and  many  other  instances  of  the  same  tendency 
might  l>e  cited.  To  give  a  few  more, — in  the 
parable  of  tlie  Supper  (Mt  22»-",  Lk  14"-=^),  St. 
Alatthew  merely  says  that  the  guests  made  light 
of  the  invitation  and  went  their  ways,  one  to  his 
farm,  anotlier  to  his  merchandise  (v.*) ;  while  St. 
Luke  puts  various  excuses  into  the  mouth  of  the 


guests  (vv. '«-=").  In  the  parable  of  the  Lost  Sheep 
(Mt  18'=",  Lk  15*-').  St.  Luke  represents  the 
owner  as  taking  the  lost  slieej),  when  he  has 
found  it,  upon  his  shoulders.  In  the  parable  of 
the  Houses  built  upon  the  Rock  and  upon  the 
Sand  (Mt  ""■'-',  Lk  G*'"),  St.  Matthew  says  merely 
that  the  wise  man  built  upon  the  rock  and  the 
foolish  upon  the  sand  ;  but  St.  Luke  represents  the 
one  as  having  to  dig  and  go  deep  to  find  a  foumla- 
tion,  while  the  other  builds  witliout  a  foundation, 
upon  the  earth.  But  in  other  cases  we  must 
assign  a  ditterent  motive  for  the  variation  in  the 
details  of  the  parables.  Many  seem  due  to  an 
allegorizing  tendency  on  the  part  of  the  Evan- 
gelists.    They  regarded  the  characters  and  events 


of  the  narratives  as  the  counterparts  of  like  char- 
acters and  events  in  the  religious  sphere,  and 
introduced  details  from  this  latter  sphere  into  the 
illustration.  Thus,  for  instance,  when  we  com- 
pare St.  Matthew's  version  of  the  parable  of  the 
Supper  with  St.  Luke's  (Mt  22i-",  Lk  W^--*), 
nianj'  of  the  new  features  in  St.  Matthew  appear 
to  be  due  to  this  tendency.  The  Supper  of  St. 
Luke  has  become  the  marriage-feast  of  the  king's 
son,  i.e.  the  Messiah  ;  the  king,  in  spite  of  the 
refusal  of  the  guests,  sends  tliein  a  second  invita- 
tion (vv.3-  ■*)  ;  they  ill-treat  and  slay  the  servants 
who  bring  the  invitation,  and  the  king  sends 
forth  his  armies  to  destroy  them  and  to  bum  their 
city  (vv."- ').  Evidently  tiiese  details  are  suggested 
by  the  thought  of  Israel's  behaviour  towards  her 
God,  and  the  fate  that  overtook  her.  Again,  in 
the  parable  of  the  Wicked  Husbandmen,  St.  Mark 
relates  that  they  took  the  son  and  slew  him  and 
east  him  out  of  the  vineyard  ;  -nhile  St.  Matthew 
and  St.  Luke  reverse  the  order,  and  make  them 
first  cast  him  out  and  then  slay  him,  with  evident 
reference  to  the  fate  of  Jesus  (Mt  27^'"^,  cf.  He 
13'=).  Again,  in  the  parable  of  the  Watchful 
Servants  (Mk  13^-",  Lk  12^-f ),  St.  Luke  repre- 
sents the  master  as  girding  himself  and  making 
them  sit  down  to  meat  and  serving  them,  though 
he  has  himself  borne  witness  (IT™-)  to  the  unlike- 
lihood of  such  conduct  on  the  part  of  any  ordinary 
master.  Such  extraordinary  condescension  is  prob- 
ably an  allegorical  feature  introduced  with  refer- 
ence to  the  Parousia. 

2.  If  we  accept  the  traditional  principle  of  para- 
bolical '  interpretation,'  in  how  far  are  we  justified 
in  seeking  to  interpret  the  circumstantial  details 
so  largely  present  in  the  parables?  There  are 
some  who  insist  that  every  little  detail  is  sig- 
nificant, and  who  regard  that  as  the  true  method 
of  interpretation  which  seeks  to  find  some  spiritual 
truth  to  correspond  to  every  item  of  the  illustration. 
'  Quanto  eniiii  plus  solidre  veritatis,'  says  Vitringa 
(quoted  by  Trench,  ch.  iii.)  'ex  Verbo  Dei  erueri- 
mus,  si  nihil  obstet,  tanto  magis  divinam  commend- 
abimus  sapientiam.'  Teelman  (quoted  byJlilicher, 
Die  Gleichnisredcn  Jesu,  i.  p.  270)  insists  that  in 
every  parable  every  word  must  be  significant.  And 
Petersen  {ib.  p.  271)  maintains  that  Christ  never 
introduces  the  slightest  detail  into  any  parable 
which  is  not  designed  to  correspond  to  something 
in  the  interpretation.  On  the  other  hand,  it  has 
been  Generally  recognized  that  there  are  limits 
beyond  which  the  details  of  the  illustration  must 
not  be  pressed.  '  Sunt  autem  quae  et  simpliciter 
posita  sunt,' says  Tert.  (dcPtulk.  9),  'adstruendam 
et  disponendani  et  texendam  parabolam.'  Chry- 
sostom  (in  Mt.  Horn.  Ixiv.  3)  lays  down  the  rule : 
oiiSi  XPV  T'o.vra  to.  ev  rah  Trapa^oKaTt  Kara.  X^fiv 
W£pupyd^£<r0at,  aWa  tov  aKoirbv  /laOovTas,  Si'  Sf 
(jwtT($r),  TOVTOv  SpireaBat  Kai  ii-qUv  ToXt/irpaynovfiv 
Tepaaipu.  But  great  difference  of  ojiinion  exists, 
even  among  those  who  profess  to  observe  Chry- 
sostom's  canon,  as  to  where  the  woXvirpayiioveTv 
begins.  Indeed,  if  the  principle  of  '  interpretation ' 
be  admitted  at  all,  if  the  parables,  as  such  treat- 
ment of  them  involves,  in  spite  of  all  protest  to 
the  contrary,  are  really  allegories,  it  is  difficult  to 
see  on  what  ground  a  line  can  be  drawn  beyond 
whicli  it  is  illegitimate  to  interpret  the  details. 
The  more  perfect  the  allegory,  the  more  will  it 
admit  of  interpretation  down  to  the  minutest 
circumstance.  And  so  long  as  tlie  significance 
attadied  to  these  details  is  relevant  to  the  tenor 
of  the  whole,  the  interpreter  may  well  demand  on 
^^•hat  ground  it  maj'  be  objected  that  the  details 
in  ([uestion  are  not  to  be  regarded  as  symbolical. 
The  artificiality  of  the  method  and  the  unsatis- 
factorine-ss  of  the  conclusions  may  be  urged  as  an 
objection  to  the  general  principle  of  parabolical 


CITY 

'interpretation'  underlying  such  method,  but  on 
that  principle  the  method  itself  appears  thoroughly 
defensible. 

3.  If  we  reject  the  principle  of  parabolical 
'interpretation,'  does  not  the  circumstantiality  of 
the  illustrations  become  mere  useless  ornament? 
This  is  an  objection  raised  against  those  who 
contend  that  the  parables  are  not  to  be  regarded 
as  allegories  of  wliich  we  have  to  seek  the  interpre- 
tation, but  as  comparisons  between  the  principle 
involved  in  some  case  taken  from  everyday  life 
and  a  similar  principle  which  it  is  desired  to 
establish  in  the  spiritual  sphere.  Those  who 
maintain  this  view  insist  that  it  is  only  the 
principles  or  relations  involved  in  the  two  different 
spheres  that  are  comjjared,  not  the  details  on 
either  side.  There  is  only  the  one  point  of  com- 
parison between  the  two  cases,  only  the  one  lesson 
enforced  by  the  parable.  In  answer  to  the  objec- 
tion that  this  seems  to  reduce  the  fulness  of  detail 
with  which  the  illustrations  are  elaborated  to 
mere  useless  ornament,  it  is  replied  that  though 
the  details  are  not  regarded  as  significant  in  the 
symbolical  sense,  they  are  yet  full  of  significance 
as  serving  to  bring  out  with  force  and  clearness 
the  thought  which  it  is  the  purpose  of  the  parable 
to  enforce.  Were  the  illustrations  not  presented 
with  such  circumstantiality,  tliey  would  not  be 
so  convincing  as  they  are.  The  scene  is  brought 
vividly  before  our  eyes ;  our  interest  is  awakened, 
our  sympathy  enlisted.  Many  of  the  details 
which  cause  such  trouble  to  the  allegorical  in- 
terpreters, as,  e.g.,  the  injustice  of  the  Judge  (Lk 
18'"*)  and  the  fraudulence  of  the  Steward  (Lk 
16'"'^),  may  easily  be  explained  from  this  point  of 
view.  The  injustice  of  the  Judge  serves  to  bring 
out  more  forcibly  that  it  was  the  importunity  of 
the  widow  that  overcame  him ;  the  fraud  of  the 
Steward  emphasizes  the  fact  that  it  was  for  his 
wisdom  alone  that  he  was  commended.  And  so 
witli  all  the  details  with  which  tlie  parables  are 
supplied.  There  is  no  useless  ornament.  Every 
little  touch  serves  to  bring  out  more  clearly  the 
central  thought  enforced  by  the  illustration,  and 
so  contributes  to  the  effect  of  the  parable. 
Literature. — See  the  list  at  the  end  of  article  Parable. 

G.  Wauchopk  Stewart. 

CITY. — In  the  East  the  city  developed  from  the 
necessity  of  protection  from  hostile  invasion,  and 
its  characteristic  was  the  wall  or  rampart.  It  was 
the  wall  that  originally  constituted  the  7r6\is, 
though  in  later  times  its  position  amongst  the 
Jews  was  determined  by  its  ability  to  produce  ten 
men  qualified  for  office  in  tlie  Synagogue  (see  Hast- 
ings' DB,  art.  '  City  ').  The  Kdiiir,  was  the  village 
or  hamlet,  without  walls,  and  was  generally  a  de- 
pendency of  some  neighbouring  city.  In  Mli  l^  the 
word  /cw/i67roXis  is  used,  apparently  as  a  designation 
of  a  large  unwalled  village  or  town.  Bethlehem  and 
Bethsaida,  though  generally  classed  as  cities,  are 
spoken  of  as  /cu/nni  in  Jn  7*^  Mk  ?,^-  ^6,  the  natural 
inference  from  which  is  that  the  words  'city,' 
'town,'  and  'village,'  though  having,  as  with  us, 
a  technical  signification,  were  occasionally  used  in 
a  looser  and  less  precise  manner. 

The  government  of  the  7r6\is  was  modelled  on 
that  of  Jerusalem,  where  the  Sanhedrin  (wh.  see) 
was  the  supreme  authority  on  all  matters  which, 
after  the  Roman  domination,  did  not  fall  within 
the  province  of  the  Roman  governor.  According 
to  the  Talmud  (Mish.  Sank.  i.  6),  in  every  Jewish 
city  there  was  a  Council  of  twenty-three  which 
was  responsible  to  the  Sanhedrin  (Mt  5=-).  Jose- 
plms  knows  nothing  of  such  a  Council.  The  Court 
which  he  mentions  {Ant.  IV.  viii.  14)  consisted  of 
seven  judges,  who  had  each  two  Levites  as  assessors. 
The  College  of  Elders  who  presided  over  the  Syna- 
gogue had  also  judicial  functions,  but  what  was 


CITY 


333 


its  relation  to  the  Council  is  not  easy  to  determine. 
The  gates  of  the  city  were  places  of  public  resort ; 
the  money  -  changers  facilitated  trade  ;  and  the 
various  guilds  of  artisans  had  special  districts 
allotted  to  them. 

In  the  time  of  our  Lord,  Palestine  was  a  land  of 
cities.  Galilee,  measuring  fifty  miles  north  and 
south,  and  from  twenty-five  to  thirty-five  east  and 
west— about  the  average  size  of  an  English  shire — 
is  said  by  Josephus  (BJ  III.  iii.  2)  to  have  had  a 
population  of  3,000,000.  Allowing  for  patriotic 
exaggeration,  the  fact  that  the  soil  was  so  fertile 
as  to  make  it  a  veritable  garden,  and  that  it  was 
traversed  by  tlie  three  main  trade  routes  of  the  East, 
would  account  for  an  exceptional  density  of  popu- 
lation. Round  the  Lake  of  Galilee  there  were  nine 
cities  with  not  less  than  15,000  inhabitants,  some 
of  them  with  considerably  more,  so  that  there  must 
liave  been  along  its  margin  an  almost  unbroken 
chain  of  buildings.  The  blending  of  the  Je^visll 
with  the  Greek  civilization  must  have  given  to  these 
cities  a  striking  picturesqueness  alike  in  manners, 
customs,  attire,  and  architecture.  Tiberias,  built 
by  Herod  Antipas,  was  a  stately  city,  whose 
ruins  still  indicate  a  wall  three  miles  long.  Its 
palace,  citadel,  and  public  buildings  were  of  the 
most  imposing  description,  but  it  was  almost 
wholly  Gentile,  no  Jew  who  had  the  pride  of 
his  race  setting  foot  within  the  walls  of  a  city 
polluted  alike  by  the  monuments  of  idolatry  and 
by  its  site  on  an  ancient  burial-place.  Cities  like 
Bethsaida  and  Capernaum,  again,  were  preponder- 
antly Jewish.  Tarichefe,  not  mentioned  in  the 
Gospels,  is  described  by  Pliny  {HN  v.  xv.  1 1 )  as  one 
of  the  chief  centres  of  industry  and  commerce,  and 
by  Josephus  {Ant.  XIV.  vii.  3)  as  a  stronghold  of 
Jewish  patriotism.  Everywhere  in  Galilee  there 
was  an  intense  civic  vitality.  The  jjroblenis  of  a 
complex  civilization  were  presented  with  peculiar 
force.  The  Gospel  narrative  stands  out  from  a 
background  of  a  richer  and  more  varied  life  than 
probably  ever  existed  elsewhere  in  an  organized 
community,  and  it  reflects  in  a  wonderfully  accurate 
manner  all  its  various  phases.  This  is,  indeed, 
one  reason  of  its  universal  applicability.  It  is  the 
application  of  absolute  principles  of  conduct  to 
typical  situations  of  the  most  complex  character. 

This  density  of  population  jiassed  over  the  Lake 
of  Galilee  to  the  region  eastward.  The  Decapolis 
( Mt  4^)  consisted  of  a  group  of  ten  or  more  cities 
east  of  the  Jordan,  united  in  a  league  for  purposes 
of  defence.  These  were  Greek  cities  in  the  province 
of  Syria,  but  possessing  certain  civil  rights,  such  as 
coinage,  etc.,  granted  them  by  Rome.  The  cities 
constituting  the  Decapolis  are  variously  named. 
Pliny  {HNv.  xviii.  74)  enumerates  them  as  follows : 
Scytliopolis,  Hippos,  Gadara,  Dion,  Pella,  Gerasa, 
Philadelphia,  Canatha,  and,  with  less  probability, 
Damascus  and  Raphana.  To  the  north  of  Galilee 
again  lay  the  Phoinician  cities  of  Tyre  and  Sidon 
(Mt  15").  Tyre,  even  in  its  decline,  was  a  noble  city, 
with  a  teeming  population.  The  circumference  of 
its  walls  is  given  by  Pliny  as  nineteen  Roman 
miles.  Inland,  Cresarea  Philippi  nestled  at  the 
base  of  Mt.  Hermon,  in  a  situation  of  remarkable 
beauty  and  fertility.  This  city  received  its  name 
from  Herod  the  Great,  wlio  built  tliere  a  temple  to 
Augustus.  It  was  in  its  neighljourhood  that  Peter 
made  his  striking  confession  (Mt  Kj''"-)-  The  cities 
of  Samaria  to  the  south  occupy  no  large  place  in 
our  Lord's  mission.  Though  Jesus  passed  through 
Samaria  (Jn  4*),  it  is  not  recorded  that  He  visited 
its  capital,  and  the  disciples  were  specially  enjoined 
to  refrain  from  preaching  the  gospel  in  any  city  of 
the  Samaritans  (Mt  IC*).  Samaria  was  itself  a 
beautiful  city— one  of  the  cities  rebuilt  on  a  mag- 
nificent scale  by  Herod  the  Great  owing  to  its 
strategic  situation— the  population  being  mixed. 


334 


CITY 


CLAIM 


half-Greek,  half-Samaritan,  wholly  alien,  there- 
fore, in  sympathy  from  the  Jews,  alike  through  the 
Samaritan  hostility  and  tlie  Greek  culture.  Tlie 
city  of  Sychar  (Jn  4^*),  the  scene  of  our  Lord's  con- 
versation with  the  Samuiiiiii  wdiiiHii,  is  generally 
identified  with  the  modem  .1 "  -1  /  "  ,  at  the  foot 
of  Mt.  Ebal,  about  a  mile  ii.,m  Nal.lus  (Shechem). 
Judaea,  with  its  desolate  111' ■until  111  r.ni-es.  was  never 
rich  in  cities.  Jericho  lay  ■•n  it-  licKlei^,  --ituated 
in  an  oasis  of  remarkalile  hiiiluy.  ,i  my  ei  lulm-., 
in  striking  contrast  to  lie'  -i.my  ainl  lian.ii  I'-iun 
of  which  it  was  the  gateway.  .leri.U.,  «  a-  neh  in 
the  natural  wealth  of  the  East,  but  singularly  poor 
in  heroic  memories. 

But  to  the  Jew  the  city  of  cities— the  city  tliat 
symbolized  all  that  was  highest  alike  in  liis  poli- 
tical and  religious  aspirations  —  was  Jerusalem. 
Twice  in  St.  Alatthew's  Gospel  is  Jerusalem  called 
'the  holy  city'  (Mt  4"  27"),  and  as  such  it  was 
enslirined  in  every  Jewish  heart  through  the  noble 
poetry  of  the  Psalter.  It  was  the  city  wliere  God 
had  His  chosen  seat,  and  round  which  clustered 
the  heroic  traditions  of  the  Hebrew  race— the  city, 
indeed,  with  which  was  intertwined  the  very  con- 
ception of  Judaism  as  a  national  religion,  for  in 
the  Temple  of  Jerusalem  alone  could  (iod  be  wor- 
.shipped  with  the  rites  He  had  Himself  ordained. 
The  cities  of  Galilee  owed  their  greatness  and 
importance  to  commercial  or  political  causes. 
Though  some  were  preponderantly  Jewish,  and 
others,  such  as  Tiberias,  almost  exclusively  Gen- 
tile, there  was  yet  in  them  all  a  mingling  of  races 
and  a  tolerably  free  and  humane  intercourse. 
Samaria  was  a  great  Roman  strongliold,  dominat- 
ing the  main  trade-route  from  Cc-esarea  on  the 
coast  to  the  East.  But  Jerusalem  remained  a  city 
of  the  Jews,  cherishing  its  own  ecclesiastical  tradi- 
tions, and  holding  its  "patriotic  exclusiveness  with 
a  narrowness  all  the  greater  from  the  pressure  of 
the  Roman  subjection.  It  had  almost  complete 
autonomy  under  the  Sanhedrin.  Cassarea  was  the 
seat  of  tlie  Roman  Procurator,  except  during  the 
great  Jewish  feasts,  when  he  found  it  necessary  to 
reside  at  Jerusalem  to  restrain  the  turbulence  of  a 
fanatically  patriotic  people  who  were  ready  to 
court  martyrdom  for  the  national  causie.  It  is 
perhaps  signilicant,  as  showing  the  ecclesiastical 
character  of  the  population  of  Jerusalem,  that  it 
was  a  priest  and  a  Levite  who  first  passed  the  man 
lying  wounded  and  bleeding  on  tlie  road  to  Jericho 
(Lk  lO^"-). 

In  the  time  of  our  Lord,  then,  tlie  Jews  had 
made  the  transition  from  a  life  mainly  pastoral 
and  agricultural  to  the  more  advanced  life  of  the 
city.  The  Twelve  ami  the  Seventy  are  sent  to 
preach  the  eo-iirl  in  .ite-.  and  w'hen  they  are 
persecuted  in  on-  rit\  lliey  are  to  ilee  to  another 
(Mt  lO"'-'-'^,  Lk  lu'i.  •le-iw,  after  He  had  given 
instructions  to  the  Twelve,  departs  to  preach 
and  to  teach  in  their  cities  (Mt  11').  The  concep- 
tion of  the  city  as  the  flower  and  fruit  of  the 
highest  civilization  is  emerging,  and  the  dvitn.'s 
Dei  is  taking  the  place  of  the  reqnvm  Dei,  and 
thus  bringing  Hebrew  into  line  with  Greek  ideals. 
This  fact  is  very  significant  for  the  modern  presen- 
tation of  the  gospel.  It  is  sometimes  assumed 
that  Christianity  is  possible  only  for  a  primitive 
community,  and  many  modem  ideals  of  communal 
life  are  based  on  the  supposition  that  the  city  is 
wholly  an  artificial  product,  and  that  the  way  of 
true  progi-ess  lies  in  reverting  to  village  com- 
munities. All  through  the  Christian  centuries 
there  lias  been  a  tendency  on  the  part  of  many 
who  have  felt  with  singular  intensity  the  influence 
of  .Jesus,  to  seek  the  cultivation  of  the  Christian 
life  either  in  isolation  or  in  mthdrawing  them- 
selves from  the  strenuous  civic  activities.  The 
Cliristian  ideal  of  saintship  has  been  largely  that 


of  the  cloister.  But  it  is  becoming  more  and  more 
realized  that  Jesus  lived  His  life  in  a  crowd,  that 
He  was  so  seldom  alone  that  occasions  when  He 
sought  solitude  are  specially  noted,  and  that  it 
was  the  sight  of  great  lua^-e^  c,f  |.ei>[ile  that  most 
powerfully  touched  Hi.  . moiin,,-  ,  Mi  14",  Lk  19-"). 
The  gospel  of  Jesus  i-  r~-eiiiiall\  a  social  gospel. 
Its  ideal  is  a  civic  iileal.  li-  lu'eeepts  have  no 
meaning  and  no  applicability  except  to  those  who 
are  living  in  a  community.  Its  ultimate  goal  is  the 
'  holy  city,  new  Jerusalem,  descending  from  God 
out  of  heaven,  prepared  as  a  bride  adorned  for  her 
husband  '  (Rev  21-).  The  fact  is  noteworthy  as 
showing  the  place  and  influence  of  Cliristianity 
in  the  natural  evolution  of  liumanity.  For  the 
history  of  civilization  is  the  history  of  cities. 
Babylon,  Nineveh,  Jerusalem,  Athens,  Rome, 
Alexandria,  Venice,  Florence,  and  the  mediteval 
cities  all  mark  stages  in  the  development  of  the 
higher  culture  of  the  race.  The  modern  city, 
indeed,  still  lacks  its  raison  d'etre.  It  is  as  yet  a 
liuge  amorphous  entity,  presenting  problems  which, 
so  far  from  finding  solution,  are  only  now  begin- 
ning to  be  fully  faced.  And  the  supreme  test  of  the 
Divine  power  of  the  religion  of  Jesus  in  our  day  will 
lie  in  its  capability  of  giving  to  the  city  rational 
meaning,  of  transmuting  the  blind  force  of  econo- 
mic pressure  to  the  law  of  reciprocal  harmony,  of 
so  applying  the  principles  of  the  gospel  to  the 
marvellous  complexities  of  our  civic  life  as  to 
educe  the  noblest  faculties  of  the  individual  while 
securing  the  unity  of  communal  existence. 

Literature.— Schurer,  RJP  ii.  1. 154 ff.,  IGOf.  ;  G.  A.  Smith, 
HGUL  pp.  420-435;  FairKiirn,  City  of  God,  pp.  349-370; 
Westcott.  Hebrews,  pp.  386-389.  A.  MiLLER. 

CLAIM. — The  term  expresses  a  twofold  relation- 
ship, either  to  a  claim  as  advanced  and  enforced 
or  as  accepted  and  complied  with.  The  assump- 
tion or  imposition  of  a  claim  upon  another  is  an 
act  of  authority,  a  relationship  of  established 
right  and  superior  power;  while  the  recognition 
and  discharge  of  the  same  claim  represent  the 
corresponding  social  duty. 

The  narrative  of  the  Gospels  describes  how  Christ 
moved  amid  the  social  and  religious  relationships 
of  the  world  into  which  He  came.  It  tells  how 
He  knew  all  things  in  the  heart  of  man  (Jn  2^"^), 
and  occasionally  drew  the  attention  of  His  disciples 
to  the  real  importance  of  certain  personalities  and 
actions  (Mt  16*  11",  Lk  21'"^),  where  a  wrong  im- 
pression might  have  been  produced  ;  but,  as  a  rule. 
He  does  not  take  the  initiative  in  criticising  and 
condemning  in  detail  the  standards,  methods,  and 
institutions  then  prevailing  in  society.  His  king- 
dom is  declared  to  be  entirely  distinct  from  that 
of  the  world,  and  it  is  only  when  challenged  on  a 
question  of  right  conduct  that  He  lays  do\vn  the 
principle  that  whatever  Ca?sar  has  an  undisputed 
claim  upon  ought  to  be  regarded  as  his,  and  what- 
ever belongs  to  God  should  be  rendered  to  Him 
only.  On  the  ground  of  previous  and  higher 
claims.  He  expels  those  who  had  obtained  the 
privilege  of  traffic  within  the  temple  area,  inas- 
much as  the  place  had  been  dedicated  to  its  Owner 
as  a  house  of  prayer  (Mt  21").  The  victims  of 
masterful  temptation  and  difficult  surroundings 
(Mt  11",  Lk  7''  18"  22«i,  Jn  8")  are  regarded  with 
pity  and  hopefulness.  His  direct  and  indignant 
expo.sure  is  reserved  for  the  attempt  to  give 
religious  sanction  to  evaded  duty  (Mk  7"),  or  where 
the  name  of  religion  is  made  unlovely  by  the  proud 
and  harsh  claims  of  those  who  profess  it  (Mt  6^ 

034-7.  23). 

Otherwise  Christ  moves  amid  the  relationships 
of  common  life  and  the  claims  of  organized  society, 
using  them  as  the  field  of  paral)le  and  the  vehicle 
of  His  teaching  concerning  the  kiugduiu  that  was 


CLAIM 


CLAIMS  OF  CHRIST 


at  hand.  Thus  He  refers  to  purchasers  of  property, 
money-lenders  and  interest,  employers  of  labour 
and  the  rights  of  the  labourer.  Similarly,  we  have 
allusions  to  war,  judicial  punishment,  parental 
authority,  marriage  and  divorce,  fasting  and 
sumptuous  living.  With  regard  to  all  such  rela- 
tionships and  connected  claims  Christ  uses  the 
vocabulary  and  valuation  current  in  the  world. 
The  prodigal  son  declares  that  he  has  forfeited  the 
right  to  which  he  had  been  born  (Lk  15'") ;  Zacchneus 
(19')  and  the  woman  bowed  down  with  intirinity 
(13")  have,  as  children  of  Abraham,  a  family 
claim  that  should  shut  out  more  distant  considera- 
tions. This  fact  gives  emphasis  to  the  exceptional 
instances  of  Naaman  and  the  widow  of  Sarepta  (Lk 
426-29)_  The  Syro-Phoenician  woman  quite  under- 
stands that  local  opinion  as  to  race  privilege  does 
not  allow  her  to  share  on  equal  terms  with  Israel 
(Mt  IS^'-  =8).  The  lineage  of  natural  descent  im- 
plies that  of  ethical  resemblance  (Mt  2Z^\  Jn  S^"). 
Parental  att'ection  is  the  basis  of  the  assurance 
that  our  Heavenly  Father  will  act  still  more  wisely 
and  lovingly  towards  His  children  (Mt  7"  II  Lk  11'^). 
It  is  after  the  fullest  recognition  of  the  beauty 
and  power  of  family  claims  that  Clirist  calls  His 
disciples  to  an  even  more  intense  and  constrain- 
ing relationship  (Mt  lO^',  Lk  14=«). 

The  claims  of  neighbourhood  and  hospitality  are 
frequently  alluded  to.  Lazarus,  even  in  Abraham's 
bosom,  must  be  willing  to  serve  one  who  had  been 
an  earthly  neighbour  (Lk  16-'').  A  neighbour  can 
be  put  to  any  inconvenience  on  behalf  of  a  stranger 
guest  in  their  midst  (IP'^).  The  action  of  the 
woman  who  anointed  Christ  and  bathed  His  feet 
with  tears  is  shown  to  be  right,  inasmuch  as  the 
claim  of  a  passing  guest  was  greater  than  that  of 
those  who  were  always  present  (Mk  14',  Lk  T''-^, 
Jn  12'- 8). 

By  the  same  use  of  current  language  and  thought, 
religion  is  a  codification  of  things  bound  and  free, 
prohibited  and  permitted  (Mt  le'"  18'").  Its  duties, 
as  imposed  by  the  scribes  and  Pharisees,  are  like 
the  load  on  the  submissive  baggage  animal  (23''). 
John  forbids  those  who  taught  in  Christ's  name 
>vithout  having  the  qualifying  claim  of  discipleship 
(Mk  9^).  With  tlie  fori'nal  appeal  of  a  litigant, 
'  Legion '  demands  a  proof  of  Christ's  right  to 
interfere  (5').  Satan  is  another  taskmaster  with 
claims  to  be  satisfied,  and  disease  is  the  mark 
of  his  property  and  power  (Lk  13"^).  Rabbinical 
rules  so  far  supersede  the  commandments  of  God 
that  Christ  can  be  condemned  as  an  enemy  to 
religion  (Mt  23"-3»,  Mk  S'"  7=- MO^  11",  Lk  13"). 
Afterwards,  to  one  who  understood  it  all,  it  was 
evident  that  attention  to  their  own  claims  had 
blinded  the  religious  leaders  of  Israel  to  the  pres- 
ence of  the  Lord  of  Glory  (1  Co  2^*),  just  as  the 
worship  of  nature,  degraded  and  degrading,  had 
darkened  and  alienated  from  God  the  heart  of  the 
Gentile  world  (Ro  1=')- 

It  is  thus  evident  from  the  Gospel  narratives  that 
the  Hebrew-Roman  world,  into  which  Christ  came 
as  the  Son  of  Man,  had  reached  a  high  stage  of  de- 
velopment with  regard  to  social  authority  and  obedi- 
ence. The  areas  of  privilege  and  exemption  were 
carefully  marked  oft'  from  those  of  servility  and 
compulsion.  Legislated  right  and  wrong,  like 
guarding  clierubim,  faced  each  other  at  all  the 
gates  of  public  life.  The  rich  and  noble  confronted 
the  poor  and  unclassed,  the  strong  and  conquering 
had  their  counterpart  in  the  subject  and  enslaved, 
the  wise  and  enlightened  stood  out  in  relief  from 
the  ignorant  and  barbarous,  the  male  had  defined 
authority  and  predominance  over  the  female,  and 
free-born  citizens  exercised  a  jealous  censorship 
over  the  admission  of  strangers  and  foreigners. 
The  universal  pressure  of  such  claims  and  obliga- 
tions gave  sedimentary  stratification  to  all  that 


was  highest  and  lowest  in  social  order,  and 
the  infusion  and  uplift  of  a  new  volcanic  f 
could  invert  its  masses  and  confuse  such  es 
lished  lines  of  cleavage. 


Itv 


i  largely  ■ 


the  first 

familiar  form  of  i-.i  |.|..  -  ,i,,i  <<m|i.  ,i  ,,,  -  nient. 
A  similar  desire  I"  [.  i.;  .;i  ii  i  .  ,(  |i  ,,,  niind 
of  Christ  and  til'- -p  II!  .. I  M  i<  l,iirj<|,.ni  ■  '  i  -  i  ^v  -idraw 
upon  the  discoveries  nf  (ili\^ii;al  ^cirii'.  ,  ,  ..i  roni- 
mercial  expansion,  and  the  iiicenti\'cs(ii  I  !  n  .  Intlie 
East  it  woultl  measure  the  followiiiL;  -  '  m.  self- 
denial  of  the  de\otee,  likeness  to  Ilitii  v,..li  n,.  .  ; ~ aste, 

and  turn  towards  our  Heavenly  Father  I  Ir  >rrMi,ii._.|  Lhunisof 
ancestor-worship. 

There  were,  however,  two  great  relationships  in 
the  Hebrew-Roman  world  that  were  strangely 
marked  by  aloofness  and  disruption,  namely, 
spiritual  fellowship  between  God  and  man,  and 
the  racial  status  of  Jew  and  Greek.  Among  the 
Jews  the  voice  of  prophecy  and  of  direct  communi- 
cation with  God  had  ceased.  The  word  of  Ezekiel 
(37")  had  been  fulfilled,  '  Our  bones  are  dried,  and 
our  Iiope  is  lost.'  The  message  of  religious  teach- 
ing had  dropt  its  preface,  'Thus  saith  the  Lord,' 
and  had  come  to  express  the  contention  of  a  .sect, 
the  presentation  of  a  view,  the  quotation  of  hearer 
from  hearer.  On  this  account  the  teaching  of 
Christ  arrested  the  ear  as  sounding  a  note  that 
had  become  unfamiliar,  tlie  voice  of  original 
authority.  In  the  Roman  world,  the  most  sincere 
and  eloquent  teacher  of  the  age  (Lucretius)  had 
shown  that  there  was  no  Divine  care  for  man  as 
had  been  once  supposed,  for  in  his  vision  of  the 
opened  heavens  he  had  seen  the  gods  in  a  happy 
seclusion  of  their  own,  undisturbed  by  the  sound 
of  human  pain  and  sorrow  {de  Rer.  Nat.  iii.  18ff.  ; 
cf.  Homer,  II.  vi.  41  ft'. ).  In  that  jaded  and  dis- 
enchanted day  the  most  popular  and  reasoned 
religion  could  only  unite  gods  and  men  in  the 
creed  of  avoided  care. 

With  regard  to  the  mutual  recognition  of  Jew 
and  Gentile,  the  antagonism  was  regarded  on  both 
sides  as  radical  and  permanent.  The  Jew  despised 
the  Gentile  as  'flesh  and  blood,'  hvimanity  witliout 
religion  ;  the  Gentile  saw  in  the  Jew  the  negation 
of  all  social  instinct,  the  genius  of  unnatural  hate, 
religion  without  humanity.  It  must  have  been 
indescribably  wonderful  in  such  an  age  to  learn 
that  'God  was  in  Christ  reconciling  the  world 
unto  himself '  (2  Co  5'*).  It  was  a  great  task  that 
was  soon  to  confront  the  gospel,  for  the  Jew  had 
to  be  convinced  that  the  alien  had  been  divinely 

grovided  for  in  the  promises  (Eph  2'"),  and  the 
entile  had  to  learn  that  there  was  no  place  for 
pride  where  a  wild  branch  had  been  grafted  con- 
trary to  custom  into  a  cultivated  stem,  and  owed 
not  only  its  sustenance  but  the  higher  quality  of 
its  new  fruit  to  that  incorporation  (Ro  11"""). 
And  yet  in  a  quarter  of  a  century  after  Christ's 
death  it  could  be  stated  as  something  that  had 
passed  beyond  comment  and  controversy, — '  There 
is  neither  Jew  nor  Greek,  there  is  neither  bond 
nor  free,  there  is  neither  male  nor  female,  for  ye 
are  all  one  in  Christ  Jesus '  (Gal  3=8;  see  POWER). 
The  Christian  was  thus  a  '  new  creature,'  and  for 
him  all  things  had  become  new  (2  Co  5") ;  but  this 
did  not  mean  that  he  had  any  resident  authority 
enabling  him  henceforth  to  please  himself.  Every- 
thing was  in  Christ  Jesus.  To  come  to  Christ  was 
to  accept  His  yoke,  and  the  spirit  of  bondage  (Ro 
8'*)  had  only  been  exchanged  for  a  nobler  con- 
straint (2  Co  5").  Wherever  there  was  freedom 
from  the  law  of  sin  and  death,  there  was  the  law 
of  the  Spirit  of  life  in  Christ  Jesus  (Ro  8=). 

George  M.  Mackie. 
CLAIMS    (OF    CHRIST).  — In    any  attempt   to 
arrive  at  the  truth  with  regard  to  the  person  of 
Christ,  it  is  with  the  self-consciousness  of  Jesus 


336 


CLAIMS  OF  CHRIST 


CLAIMS  OF  CHRIST 


and  His  witness  regarding  Himself  that  we  must 
begin.  To  answer  the  question,  '  ^Vhat  think  ye 
of  Christ  ? '  we  need  above  all  to  know  what  Christ 
thought  of  Himself.  It  was  the  men  who  knew 
Jesus  only  in  an  external  fashion  that  took  Him 
to  be  John  the  Baptist,  or  Elijah,  or  Jeremiah,  or 
one  of  the  prophets  (Mt  16").  It  was  one  who  had 
come  into  the  closest  contact  with  the  mind  of  the 
Master,  and  had  learned  to  jud"e  Him,  not  by 
outward  signs  merely,  but  by  His  implicit  and 
explicit  claims,  that  broke  into  the  great  con- 
fession, '  Thou  art  the  Christ,  the  Son  of  the  living 
God'  (v.'^).  Hence  it  becomes  a  matter  of  the 
liighe-st  importance  to  consider  the  testimony  of 
the  Gospels  as  to  our  Lord's  pei-sonal  claims. 

1.  The  fundamental  claim  of  Jesus  was  a  claim 
to  ///'/,((/  iiidlun-'dy.  And  this  authority  was 
asM'it>d  in  t«o  way's,  (re)  He  claimed  the  authority 
of  ;i  //i"v/r  /■,  ail  aiithority  over  the  will  and  the  life, 
to  whi.'li  (lUeaience  was  the  only  natural  response. 
It  was  by  this  most  probably  that  the  earliest  dis- 
ciples were  first  impressed.  '  Follow  me,'  Jesus  said 
to  men  (Mt  4'^.  21  y  ^a  99  ||  1921 1|_  j„  jja) .  and  they 
either  rose  up  straightway  and  followed  Him  (Mt 
4JU.  22  II  99  11)^  or,  if  they  failed  to  do  so,  '  went  away 
sorrowful,'  feeling  in  their  inmost  hearts  that  they 
had  made  '  the  grand  refusal '  (Mt  19~  II).  (h)  But, 
further.  He  claimed  authority  as  a  teacher.  If  His 
immediate  followers  were  first  impressed  by  His 
claim  to  be  obeyed,  it  was  the  authority  of 
His  teaching  that  first  struck  the  multitude  and 
filled  them  \vith  astonishment  (Mt  7^-  -''  II).  It  was 
not  only  that  He  constantly  placed  Himself  in 
opposition  to  their  acknowledged  instructors,  those 
scribes  who  sat  in  Moses'  seat,  and  set  His  simple 
'  Verily  I  say  unto  you '  against  all  the  traditional 
learning  of  the  synagogue.  He  did  much  more 
than  tills.  He  claimed  the  ri^ht  either  to  abrogate 
altogether  or  to  reinterpret  in  His  own  way  laws 
which  were  regarded  as  clothed  with  Divine  sanc- 
tions—the law  of  retaliation  (Mt  o^'^),  the  law  of 
divorce  (v.*^'),  and  even  the  thrice-holy  law  of  the 
Sabbath  (Mt  I2"r-'>"f-  ||,  Lk  13",  Jn  7-'').  See  art. 
Authority  of  Christ. 

2.  But  moral  authority,  like  all  other  forms  of 
authority,  must  rest  upon  a  power  that  lies  behind. 
What  rlrf/it  hns  Jesus  to  speak  thus'',  men  would 
ask;  What  livht  to  call  upon  us  to  leave  our 
liomc^.  Hill  triinds,  our  all,  to  follow  Him?  What 
right  tu  Mil  us  arcept  His  teaching  as  a  perfect 
revelation  of  the  will  of  God,  and  His  interpreta- 
tion of  tlie  Law  as  its  true  fulfilling  ?  Moral  autho- 
rity quickly  disappears  when  there  is  no  moral 
power  at  the  back  of  it.  But  our  Lord's  claim  to 
authority  rested  upon  an  underlying  claim  to  holi- 
ness— a  claim  which  His  hearers  and  disciples  were 
in  a  position  to  verify  for  themselves.  There  is 
nothing  which  gives  a  man  such  sway  over  the 
consciences  of  other  men  as  the  possession  of  true 
holiness  ;  whUe  there  is  nothing  more  certain  to  be 
found  out  than  the  lack  of  this  quality  in  one  who 
professes  to  have  it.  It  was  the  holiness  of  Christ's 
character  that  made  His  words  fall  with  such 
convincing  weight  upon  the  hearts  of  men  and 
women.  It  was  His  holiness  that  gave  Him  tlie 
right  to  command,  and  made  them  willing  to  obey. 
According  to  the  Fourth  Gospel,  it  was  the  Baptist's 
testimony,  '  Behold  the  Lamb  of  God  !'  (Jn  l^),  that 
brought  the  first  pair  of  disciples  to  Jesus.  They 
came  to  see  if  this  testimony  was  true  (ef.  v.^"-), 
and  what  they  saw  bound  them  to  Jesus  for  ever. 
Publicans  ami  sinners  drew  near  to  Him  (Mt  9'", 
Lk  15'),  not,  as  His  enemies  insinuated  (Mt  W->  ||), 
because  He  was  a  sinner  like  themselves,  but 
because  they  saw  in  Him  One  who,  with  all  His 
human  sympathy,  was  so  high  above  sin  that  He 
could  stretch  out  a  saving  hand  to  those  who  were 
its  slaves  (Mt  9'-  li,  Lk  T*"""  19=-'").     And  this  holi- 


ness, which  others  saw  and  felt  in  Him,  Jesus 
claimed,  and  that  in  the  most  absolute  fashion. 
He  claimed  to  be  without  sin.  He  claimed  this 
not  only  when  He  said  to  His  foes,  '  Which  of  you 
convictetli  me  of  sin  ? '  ( Jn  S*"),  but  by  the  attitude 
of  His  whole  life  to  the  facts  of  moral  evil.  He 
claimed  it  by  calling  Himself  the  Physician  of 
the  sinful  (Mt  9'°||),  by  assuming  the  power  to 
forgive  sins(Mt9^  ||,  Lk  7''"')i  by  never  making  con- 
fession of  sin  in  His  own  prayers,  though  enjoining 
it  upon  His  disciples  (Mt  6'- 1|),  by  never  even  join- 
ing with  His  disciples  in  common  prayers,  of  which 
confession  would  necessarily  form  an  element  (on 
this  point  see  Forrest,  Christ  of  History  and  of 
Experience,  p.  22  il". ;  Expos.  Times,  xi.  [1900]  352  tf. ). 
See,  further,  artt.  HOLINESS,  Sinlessness. 

3.  A  very  important  aspect  of  Christ's  claims  is 
their  point  of  connexion  with  the  national  hope 
regarding  the  Messiah  (which  see).  There  can 
hardly  be  any  doubt  that  from  the  very  beginning 
of  His  public  ministry  the  Messianic  consciousness 
was  fully  awake  in  the  heart  of  Jesus.  We  see 
the  presence  of  tliis  consciousness  in  the  Tempta- 
tion narratives  (Mt  4'-"|l).  in  the  sermon  in  the 
synagogue  of  Nazareth  (Lk  4''''-).  in  tlu-  claiiii  (if 
the  preacher  on  the  Mount  that  III'  caiin'  to  tiillil 
the  Law  and  the  Prophets  (Mt  ,j''i.  At  a  later 
stage  He  welcomes  and  blesses  Pctuis  e.xiucss  de- 
claration, 'Thou  art  the  Christ'  (Mt  16'"),  and, 
linally.  He  accepts  the  homage  of  the  multitude  as 
the  Son  of  David  (wh.  see),  who  came  in  the  name 
of  the  Lord  (Mt  21' II),  and  dies  upon  the  cross  for 
claiming  to  be  the  King  of  the  Jews  (Mt  27",  cf. 
v.").  And  if  until  the  end  of  His  ministry  He  did 
not  call  Himself  or  allow  Himself  to  be  called  the 
Messiah  (Mt  16'-°),  this  was  clearly  because  the  false 
ideals  of  the  Jews  regarding  the  Messianic  king- 
dom made  it  impossible  for  Him  to  do  so  \vithout 
creating  all  kinds  of  misunderstandings,  and  so 
precijntating  the  inevitable  crisis  before  His  work 
on  earth  was  accomplished.  But  by  His  constant 
use  of  the  title  '  Son  of  Man  '  (wh.  see),  Jesus  was 
giving  all  along,  as  Beyschlag  says  (NT  Theology, 
i.  63),  '  a  veiled  indication  of  His  Messianic  call- 
ing ' ;  for  hardly  d.ny  one  now  doubts  that  He  used 
this  title  with  precise  reference  to  the  well-known 
passage  in  the  7th  chapter  of  Daniel  (v.""-),  and 
that  by  so  describing  Himself  He  was  claiming  to 
bring  in  personally  and  establish  upon  earth  that 
very  kingdom  of  (Sod  which  formed  the  constant 
theme  of  His  preaching  (see  Mt  26''''), 

4.  But  if  Christ's  use  of  the  title  '  Son  of  Man ' 
shows  how  He  claimed  to  fulfil  the  Messianic  idea, 
His  further  claim  to  be  the  Son  of  God  (wh.  see) 
shows  that  He  filled  this  idea  w  ith  an  altogether 
new  content,  whicli  formed  no  part  of  the  Messianic 
expectation  of  tlie  Jews.  No  doubt  in  popular 
usage  the  title  '  Son  of  God,'  through  the  influence 
especially  of  Ps  2',  had  become  an  official  name  for 
the  Messiah  (Mt  S-'s,  Mk  14«',  Jn  l-*").  But  Christ's 
claim  to  be  the  Son  of  God  evidently  meant  much 
more  than  this.  In  asserting  His  IJivine  Sonship 
He  was  not  merely  affirming  His  right  to  an  ex- 
ternal title  of  honour,  but  was  givin"  expression 
to  a  consciousness  of  relationship  to  God  the  Father 
which  was  absolutely  unique,  and  in  which  the 
very  essence  of  His  Messiahship  consisted.  It  is 
true  that  in  the  Synoptics  He  does  not  expressly 
designate  Himself  the  Son  of  God,  as  He  does  in 
the  Fourth  Gospel  (o-''  ^'  [(•«/•.  hrt.]  10=«  ll-") ;  but 
at  all  events  He  reiiratnlly  .alls  (;..,1  His  Father, 
and  refers  to  Himsrlt  a^  '  ihc  Smi  «  hen  speaking 
of  God,  and  that  in  a  >.ii-r  manifestly  distinct 
from  the  general  idea  oi  (ioil's  universal  Father- 
hood (e.g.  Mt  11=^  12^  IS'").  In  the  Fourth  Gospel, 
quite  apart  from  those  passages  in  which  Christ 
assumes  the  title  'Son  of  God,'  the  sense  of  this 
unique  relation  to  God  as  bearing  upon  His  saving 


CLAIMS  OF  CHRIST 


CLEOPAS 


337 


relationship  to  men  meets  us  everywhere,  but 
especially  in  the  farewell  discourse  and  the  inter- 
cessory prayer  which  followed  (Jn  14-17).  But  in 
the  Synoptics  also  this  Divine  consciousness  appears 
repeatedly  {c.tj.  Lk  2«,  Mt  7='  lO'-  16"22=f-,  Mk  12«), 
and  it  finds  full  expression  in  that  great  saying, 
'AH  things  have  been  delivered  unto  me  of  my 
Father ;  and  no  one  knoweth  the  Son  save  the 
Father ;  neitlier  doth  any  know  the  Father  save 
the  Son,  and  he  to  whomsoever  the  Son  willeth  to 
reveal  him'  (Mt  11=',  Lk  10~),  which  serves  in  St. 
Matthew's  account  as  the  ground  of  the  Saviour's 
universal  invitation  and  of  His  promise  of  rest  for 
the  soul  (v.28ff-).    See  Preaching  Christ,  5  (c). 

5.  In  connexion  witli  His  escliatological  teach- 
ing, and  forming  its  central  and  most  essential 
feature,  is  the  claim  made  by  Christ  to  be  the  final 
and  nniversal  Judge  of  men.  Not  only  did  He 
declare  tlie  fact  of  His  own  Return,  an  astonishing 
declaration  in  itself,  but  He  affirmed  as  the  pur- 
pose of  His  Second  Coming  the  Judgment  of  the 
world.  This  claim  to  be  the  arbiter  of  human 
destinies  is  distinctly  announced  again  and  again 
(Mt  V"-  =3  16",  Mk  838).  It  is  further  implied  in 
the  parables  of  tlie  Wise  and  Foolish  Virgins  (Mt 
25'-")  and  the  Talents  (vv.  »■'"),  and  is  set  forth  in 
detail  in  that  solenm  picture  of  the  Last  Judgment 
by  which  these  parables  are  immediately  followed 
(vy  31-46)  jiig  testimony  of  tlie  Synoptics  with 
regard  to  this  claim  of  our  Lord  is  supported  by 
the  testimony  of  the  Fourtli  Gospel  to  the  same 
eft'ect  (Jn  5-"''-,  cf.  v.~),  and  is  confirmed  by  the 
fact  that  throughout  the  rest  of  the  NT  the  office 
of  the  final  Judge  is  constantly  assigned  to  Jesus 
(Ac  W- 17",  Ko  2'«  U'»,  2  Co  5'",  2  Ti  i'-\  1  P  i\ 
Ja  5'- "),  an  office,  be  it  noted,  which  was  never 
ascribed  to  the  Messiah  either  in  the  OT  revelation 
or  in  the  popular  Jewish  belief  (see  Salmond, 
Christian  Doct.  of  Immortality,  p.  318).  Tliis  is 
in  some  respects  the  most  stupendous  of  Christ's 
claims.  It  was  a  "reat  thing  for  Jesus  of  Nazareth 
to  assume  the  titles  and  functions  of  the  Ho])e  of 
Israel,  to  declare  Himself  to  be  tlie  Fulfiller  of  the 
Law  and  the  Expected  of  the  Prophets.  But  it 
was  something  greater  still  to  claim  that  with  His 
Return  there  would  arrive  the  grand  consummation 
of  the  world's  history  (Mt25'"),  that  before  Him 
all  nations  should  be  gathered  iy^-)  and  all  hearts 
laid  bare  (vv.^s.su.w*)^  t,l,,it  ^jjg  principle  of  the 
Judgment  should  be  the  attitude  of  men  to  Himself 
as  He  is  spiritually  present  in  the  world  (vv.*-''^), 
and  that  of  this  attitude  Christ  Himself  should  be 
the  Supreme  Judge  (vv.^-'").    See  art.  Judgment. 

6.  That  the  doctrine  of  Christ's  pre-existoicc  is 
specifically  taught  in  the  Prologue  to  the  Fourth 
Gospel,  is  apparent  to  every  reader  (Jn  I'"-  '»•  "•  "*). 
But  it  is  not  less  plain  that,  according  to  the 
author,  this  doctrine  was  not  simply  a  solution 
forced  upon  the  Christian  mind  by  a  consideration 
of  Christ's  other  claims  and  of  His  whole  history, 
but  was  the  unfolding  of  an  affirmation  made  by 
Christ's  own  lips  (6=  8^  17'-  ■*).  In  spite  of  all  that 
has  been  said  by  writers  like  Beyschlag  {op.  cit.  i. 
254)  and  Wendt  (Tcai-hing  of  Jesus,  ii.  169),  the 
theory  of  an  ideal  pre-existence  is  quite  inadequate 
as  an  explanation  of  such  language.  Only  by 
maintaining  that  John's  picture  of  Jesus  and  ])re- 
sentation  of  His  words  is  no  record  of  historical 
fact,  but  a  theologically  determined  construction  of 
his  own,  can  we  escape  from  the  conclusion  that,  as 
Jesus  claimed  to  be  in  an  absolutely  unique  sense 
the  Son  of  the  Father,  so  also  He  claimed  to  be 
the  personal  object  of  the  Father's  love  and  the 
sharer  of  His  glory  before  the  world  was.  See  art. 
Pre-Existence. 

Literature.— Hastings'  DB,  artt. '  Son  of  Man,' '  Son  of  God ' : 
Denney,  Stwlies  in  Theology,  oh.  ii. ;  Forrest,  Christ  of  History 
and  nj  hxpcrlence.  Lect.  ii. ;  Beyschlag,  iVT"  Tkcol.  i.  50-79, 
VOL.  I.— 22 


236-2U6 ;  Wendt,  Teaching  of  Jesvs,  ii.  122-183 ;  Weiss,  Bib 
Theol.  of  NT,  i.  73-92  ;  Stalker,  Chrislology  of  Jesus ;  Ullmann, 
Stnlessness  of  Jesus,  69-Sl ;  Salmond,  Christian  Doct.  of 
Immortahly,  313-325  ;  Robbins,  A  Christian  Apologetic  (1902)1, 
69-87  ;  Forrest,  Authority  of  Christ  (1906). 

J.  C.  Lambert. 
CLEANNESS See  Law,  Purification. 

CLEANSING.-See  Temple. 

CLEOPAS  (KXe6iras,  Lk  24'8).— One  of  the  two 
disciples  to  wliom  the  Lord  appeared  on  the  after- 
noon of  the  Resurrection  day  as  they  went  to 
Emniaus,  distant  about  two  hours  from  Jerusalem 
(see  Emmaus).  The  omission  of  all  reference  to 
the  story  in  1  Co  15  is  not  a  sufficient  ground  for 
questioning  its  truth.  We  have  no  guarantee  that 
St.  Paul's  knowledge  extended  to  all  the  actual 
events  of  the  Passion  and  Resurrection  period  (cf. 
Chase,  Credibility  of  the  Aets,  p.  184).  The  story 
may  have  been  received  by  the  Evangelist  from 
Cleopas  himself  :  it  bears  marks  of  its  early  origin 
in  the  primitive  Messianic  ideas  it  preserves,  and 
in  the  use  of  the  name  Simon  for  St.  Peter.  By 
some  (Theophylact,  Lanj^e,  Carr)  the  unnamed 
companion  of  Cleopas  is  identified  with  St.  Luke 
himself  ;  but  this  is  unlikely,  as  both  appear  to 
have  been  Jews  (oi  apxavra  r^f-Civ,  y.-"),  though 
they  do  not  speak  in  a  tone  of  such  personal  near- 
ness to  Jesus  that  we  can  accept  the  conjecture 
that  they  were  of  the  Eleven.  The  two  were  in 
high  dispute  about  late  events,  Cleopas  apparently 
taking  the  more  optimist ir  \  ii-w,  :is,  in  spite  of  all, 
lie  clings  to  the  few  facts  wlm  h  make  for  belief. 
The  inability  of  both  to  ir.  ,.t;iii/.'  .lesus  is  ex- 
plained in  St.  Luke  to  be  ilii.;  U<  spiritual  dulness 
(oi  6<p6a\ixol avTuv  iKparovvro,  \. "').  The  pseudo-Mark 
(whose  allusion  does  not  dejiend  on  St.  Luke,  for 
he  gives  a  diflerent  sequel  in  Jerusalem)  says  that 
the  Lord  appeared  '  in  another  form  '  (iv  iripa  ij.op<t>^, 
Mk  16'-) ;  an  interpretation  favoured  by  Augustine, 
who  compares  the  eH'ect  of  the  Transligiiration 
ilxtTepoptpwdy!.  Mk  9'-).  Whatever  the  cause,  the 
Lord  treated  them  with  tenderness  (v.^''  duSijroi, 
'O  foolish  men,'  RV,  not  'fools,'  as  AV;  cf.  Ram.say 
on  Gal  31). 

The  discourse  in  which  they  were  enlightened 
furnishes  from  Christ's  own  lips  what  in  fact  became 
the  kernel  of  the  preaching  of  the  Apostles,  as  seen 
in  the  sermons  recorded  in  tlie  Acts  {e.g.  Ac  2---*' 
17^)  and  in  the  Gospels.  The  two  disciples  had 
already  given  the  summary  of  the  earthly  life  of 
Jesus  (Lk  24'"-2*).  He  now  shows  that  it  was  re- 
quired by  OT  prophecy  that  all  this  should  be  the 
means  by  which  He  was  to  enter  into  His  glory 
(24='  should  be  read  in  the  light  of  vv."-").  It  is 
this  teaching  that  invests  the  narrative  with  its 
peciiliar  value  for  the  Church,  and  was  doubtless 
a  prime  cause  of  its  preservation. 

Many  of  the  speculations  about  the  phrase,  '  He 
made  as  though  He  would  go  further'  (Lk  24=*), 
would  have  been  avoided  if  the  real  spiritual 
meaning  of  the  incident  had  been  discerned. 
Knowledge  of  the  Lord's  presence  is  vouchsafed 
only  in  answer  to  prayer,  it  is  not  forced  on  any- 
one. This  is  the  NT  Penuel  (cf.  Gn  32=«  with  Lk 
24^").  It  is  a  too  rigid  interpretation  which  regards 
the  breaking  of  the  bread  here  as  a  celebration  of 
the  Eucharist ;  rather  it  was  an  ordinary  meal  at 
which  the  Stranger,  who  had  so  impressed  them 
on  the  road,  was  put  in  the  place  of  honour. 
Something  in  His  manner  suddenly  confirmed  the 
suspicion  of  His  identity  which  was  forming  itself 
in  their  minds.  The  result  which  the  Lord  desired, 
the  corroboration  of  their  faith,  having  been 
reached.  He  vanished  from  sight.  To  carry  the 
tidings  to  Jerusalem,  '  they  who  had  dissuaded 
their  unknown  Companion  from  making  a  night 
journey  now  have  no  fear  of  it  themselves '  (Bengel). 


338 


CLEOPHAS 


CLOSET 


Bxpu  ':    .  I    ..  .  ■  ;  ,    I".-:: ..  I'-  ..!:>;  Kcr, 

Se™-,-, -ii.|>.  r.  p. -Ml!   ,  ;;,o.  ■.  /  -.'■   ,  ■,■,  M.  ii'"«;::i:;;jff. 
C.  T.  UiJioxT. 

CLEOPHAS. — This  form  appears  in  some  Latin 
MSS,  and  is  retained  in  tlie  Vulgate  (though 
against  the  evidence  of  Codex  Amiatinus)  in  botli 
Lie  24"  and  Jn  19^.  It  was  adopted  by  the  early 
English  versions  (Wyclifite,  Tindale),  and  passed 
into  the  AV  of  1611.  It  still  stands  there  in 
Jn  W^  for  Clopas  (wh.  see),  but  in  Lk  24'*  it  was 
replaced  in  1629  by  Cleopas  (wh.  see). 

C.  T.  DiMONT. 

CLOKE  (the  spelling  in  both  AV  and  RV  of  the 
modern  'cloak'). — There  was  originally  a  marked 
distinction  between  Classical  and  Oriental  costume, 
a  distinction  which  was  lessened  under  the  cosmo- 
politanism of  the  Roman  Empire  ;  thus  the  Greek 
words  used  in  the  NT  bear  different  meanings. 
The  two  normal  Classical  garments,  the  x'-^'^"  am' 
IfiATioi/  of  Mt  o*"  and  Lk  6'-^,  translated  '  coat '  and 
'cloke,'  were  usually  of  extreme  simplicity. 

The  x"'w"',  tunica,  tunic,  or  shirt  (see  art.  CoAT), 
was  the  under-garment  worn  indoors  by  men  and 
women  alike,  an  oblong  strip  of  material  doubled 
round  the  body  and  fastened  at  the  shoulders, 
without  any  shaping  or  sewinj;,  siiuu'tiini's  ^livt  and 
sometimes  ungirt.  The  sddiii  "i  lln/ .Ir«^  ilillered 
from  this  in  being  longer  uml  liuiii-li.d  with 
sleeves;  over  it  was  worn  the  JuthuiiLth,  a  long 
sleeved  tunic,  open  in  front,  but  folded  across 
and  girt ;  this  latter  formed  a  second  tunica,  which 
is  the  xi'ii"!  apparently,  of  Mt  5*  and  Lk  6^. 
Oriental  influences  led  to  the  adoption  of  the  long 
tunic  in  Rome  under  the  name  of  tunica  talaris,  a 
garment  which,  in  Cicero's  time,  was  regarded  as  a 
mark  of  effeminacy ;  in  later  years  it  was  known  in 
its  Avhite  form  as  the  timica  alba  or  alb.  The  luaTiov, 
over-garment  or  '  cloke,'  was,  with  the  Greeks  and 
Romans,  originally  an  oblong  strip,  thrown  over  the 
tunic  (xiTcic)  when  the  M-earer  went  out  of  doors ; 
in  its  simplest  form  it  was  the  pallium  ;  more  elabor- 
ately folded,  it  was  the  toffa.  Thus  the  x"'""  and  the 
l/idnov  are  tlie  under-  and  the  over-gavmenl,  though 
what  we  call  underclothing  was  often  worn  also. 
But  the  use  of  sleeves  among  the  Orientals  made  a 
still  greater  distinction  in  their  over-garment ;  the 
nie-'U  and  simldh  of  the  Jews  were  sleeved  garments 
rather  like  a  modern  overcoat,  open  in  front,  and 
reaching  to  the  feet.  The  '  long  robe '  of  the 
scribes  and  Pharisees  (Lk  20*)  was  the  mc'il,  ren- 
dered by  St.  Luke  as  (ttoXiJ,  which  merely  means  a 
long  sleeved  garment,  a  tunica  talaris,  in  fact ;  for 
which  reason  the  '  great  multitude  '  of  the  Apoca- 
lypse (7'-")  are  also  described  as  wearing  o-toXcis 
\evK6.i,  that  is.  Ion"  white  tunics,  or  tunicce  albw, 
though  in  Rev  3'  the  more  general  word  is  used— 
iv  Ifiarlois  'KevKoU,  '  in  white  garments'  (RV). 

The  classical  over-garment  appeared  in  many  v.irieties  besides 
the  changing  fashions  of  the  toga.  The  pallium,  Greek  in  its 
origin,  had  Ijecome  international  in  its  character  at  the  time  of 
the  Roman  Empire,  and  was  rej;ai-ded  .is  the  mark  of  a  philo- 
sopher or  teacher;  so  .Justin  Martyr  preached  in  the  'philo- 
sopher's robe,'  and  was  thus  recognized  by  Trypho  as  a  teacher 
{Tryph.  1).  It  was  for  this  re.ison  that  the  pallium  was  chosen 
by  the  artists  of  the  Catacombs  as  the  distinjruishing  dress  of 
Christ,  the  Apostles,  and  the  Prophets,  and  has  continued  so  by 
an  artistic  convention  that  has  lasted  from  the  irid  rent,  to  the 
present  day.  The  chlamys,  ;tXa,a:/f,  naiium  or  palwlameutum, 
was  made  of  a  smaller  oblong  strip,  fa-stened  Ity  a  buckle  on  the 
right  shoulder  (as  in  the  Apollo  Belvidere) ;  it  was  a  li-^ht 
military  cloak,  and  was  the  'scarlet  robe,'  yj.auijiu  x6»k.vy,v, 
which  the  soldiers  put  upon  our  Lord  in  mocker.v  (Mt  27'.!S).  The 
seamless  'coat,'  for  which  the  soldiers  cast  lots  at  the  Cruci- 
fixion, is  distinguished  by  St.  John  (1923)  by  the  word  used  (or  a 
tunic  or  under-garment,  x''^<^*t  ^^^  "ot  ^y  *".v  of  the  terms  used 
for  the  various  forms  of  outer  parment,  such  as  we  should 
expect  if  the  '  coat '  were  the  Jewish  simMh. 

Another  common  form  of  outer  garment  is  the 
0oiX(ii/77S,  the  '  cloke  '  which  St.  Paul  left  at  Troas 
(2  Ti  4").     This  was  the /xvntila  {4>aii>6\ri!,  ^o-oXt;?, 


(paivoXcai'),  a  heavy  woollen  garment,  generally  red 
or  dark-yellow  in  colour,  worn  as  a  protection 
against  cold  and  rain,  at  first  especially  by  tra- 
vellers and  by  artisans  and  slaves ;  hence  on  the 
one  hand  its  use  by  St.  Paul,  and  on  the  other  its 
frequent  occurrence  in  the  Catacombs  of  Rome 
(where  the  tunica,  the  tunica  talaris,  dalmatic, 
chlamys,  pallium,  and  the  lacerna,  a  cope-shaped 
garment,  are  also  found,  while  the  toga  occurs 
only  once).  The  pmmtla  was  the  original  of  the 
Eucharistic  chasuble,  and  resembles  it  exactly  in 
shape  (a  circle  or  ellipse,  with  a  hole  in  the  centre), 
though  not  in  material.  As  time  went  on,  it  was 
used  by  all  classes,  and  after  the  Peace  of  the 
Church  it  became  in  course  of  time  restricted  to 
bishops  and  presbyters.  It  is  worn  by  the  ecclesi- 
astics in  the  famous  6th  cent,  frescoes  at  Ravenna, 
where  appear  also  the  tunica  talaris,  still  adorned 
with  the  orphrey-like  strips  of  the  clavus,  the 
dalmatic,  lacerna,  and  tlie  pulllitm,  which,  by  tlie 
process  of  contabulutiu  or  fnlding,  has  come  to 
resemble  a  long  stole,  ami  is  distinctive  of  bishops. 
Thus,  while  the  toga,  clihuiiys,  and  the  original 
tunica  disappeared,  and  are  to  us  typical  of  classical 
antiquity,  the  pienula,  pallium,  lacerna,  dalmatic, 
and  tunica  talaris  were  handed  on  as  ecclesiastical 
vestments  (chasuble,  pall,  cope,  dalmatic,  and  alb), 
the  last  named  forming  a  link  not  only  with  im- 
perial Rome,  but  also  with  the  East.  See,  further, 
art.  Dre.ss. 
LiTKRATi  lu., -A.  Cnii/o,  Tii'   niiiih'  GiiraiuUmg;  Keil,  Ben- 


ilisli'na:hi  r.N/^i;.-;  lir^iuii,  H"  i-i  n  firrlichen  Geivdnder  dee 
Abeudlandes,  and  Dtr  2>ontint:alni  Gewander  des  Abeildtandea ; 
Duchesne,  Oritjines  du  cuUe  Chretien, 

Percy  Dearmer. 

CLOPAS  (KXuiros).— Mentioned  in  Jn  19-*  as 
a  relative,  probably  the  husband,  of  one  of  the 
women  who  stood  by  the  cross  (Mapia  ^  roi; 
KXaijra).  By  Chrj'sostom  he  was  identified  with 
Alphseus  ;  tut  this  is  improbable  (see  Alph.eus). 
For  his  connexion  with  Joseph  and  the  family  of 
Jesus,  see  art.  Brethren  of  the  Lord  and  Has- 
tings' DB,  vol.  i.  p.  322.  According  to  certain 
apocryphal  Acts  of  the  Apostles,  he  is  the  same  as 
the  Cleopas  of  Lk  24'^  In  that  case  the  devotion 
which  kept  Mary  of  Clopas  near  the  cross  till  the 
end  finds  a  counterpart  in  her  husband's  sorrow  at 
the  Crucifixion.  But  the  identification  rests  on 
the  derivation  of  both  names  from  a  common 
Greek  original,  Cleopatros,  and  is  denied  by  those 
who  regard  Clopas  as  a  Semitic  name  (see  Deiss- 
mann,  Bible  Studies,  Eng.  tr.  p.  315,  n.  2). 

C.  T.  DiMONT. 

CLOSET  (TOAteto;-).— Mt  6«,  Lk  123  AV. 

Gr  word  was  Taujslo.  (found  in  some 
i^^uage  freciuently  shows  the  coalescence 
is.*  Tlie  etymology  (cf.  ret/Miatf,  'dis- 
eward,'  etc  .'akin  to  «>.«)  shows  that 
riiiiitix  c  meaning  of  the  Or.  word  (i.e. 


iit't  small  i 


and  even  the  RV,  following  Vulg.  and  Luther,  have 
been  compelled  to  break  their  rule  of  uniformity  of  rendering  in 
this  case.  The  four  occurrences  of  the  Gr..word  are  dealt  with 
as  follows  in  the  versions  : — 

AV  RV  Vulgate  Luther 

Mt  66       closet  inner  chamber    cubiculuin       Kixmmerlein 

Mt  '24**   secret  inner  chambers  penetralibus   Kammer 

chambers 
Lk  12^     closets         inner  chambers  cubiculis         Kammern 
Lk  122-*  store-  store-chamber    cellariuni        Keller 

house 

The  Peshitta  has  (joZ.  (ta-waiia)  in  all  four  passages,  and 
it  seems  a  pity  that ' store-closet •  or  'store-chamber'  was  not 
used  by  RV  in'the  same  way  throughout. 

•  Cf.  J.  H.  Moulton  in  Expositor,  0th  ser.  ix.  [1904]  301 : 
'  Tat^!,«v,  Tti'v  and  iyiia  are  overwhelmingly  attested  by  the 
papyri,  where  there  are  only  rare  examples  of  a  curious  rever- 
sion, like  that  in  Jit  20--! '  (where  WH  read  Ti-r*,  elsewhere  n-in, 


CLOSET 


CLOUD 


Every  Jewish  liouse,  except  the  very  smallest 
huts,  would  have  a  small  room  opening  out  from 
the  '  living-room,'  as  our  workmen's  cottages  have 
small  pantries,  larders,  etc.,  in  many  cases;  but 
few  houses  would  have  a  small  room  specially  for 
private  prayer.  Yet,  curiously,  many  writers  have 
assumed  that  Jewish  houses  did  have  'prayer 
closets ' ;  usually,  they  say,  in  the  upper  jjart  of 
the  house,*  and  many  identify  it  with  tlie  inrepifov 
(^'h^-' Miyyah).  Is  there  any  ground  for  this?  The 
I  'upper  rooms'  mentioned  in  NT  were  usable  as 

'  guest-chambers  (Mk   14'^,  etc.),  large  enough  to 

accommodate  thirteen  persons  reclining  round 
tables,  and  (perhaps)  even  120  persons  (Ac  I''*). 
Would  the  individual  worshipper  be  able  to  enter 
such  an  important  room  in  a  house,  and  '  shut 
the  door'  (Mt  6")  against  the  rest  of  his  family? 
Others  (e..</.,  Keil,  Biblical  Archmolor/y,  %  95)  think 
of  the  frail  summer-house  on  tlie  flat  roof. 

According  to  modern  European  ideas,  the  Vul- 
gate cubiculum,  '  bedroom,'  would  suit  the  context 
and  circumstances  well  in  Mt  6^,  perhaps  in  Mt 
24^  and  Lk  12^  but  not  at  all  in  Lk  VI'^.  Moreover, 
(a)  this  rendering  loses  the  connexion  with  the 
etymology ;  (i)  the  use  of  separate  bedrooms  is  not 
common  in  the  East ;  (c)  there  are  other  Gr.  and 
Syr.  words  to  express  the  idea. 

It  must  be  noticed  that  Mt  6"  is  founded  on 
Is  aB''",  ffo-eXtfe  eis  to.  Tajula  aov,  dTrSKXcKrof  tt)!/  Bvpav 
cov.  But  the  motive  in  Isaiali  is  fear,  in  Matthew 
desire  of  loving  communion.  ra/jKiov  occurs  40 
times  in  LXX.  In  most  cases  it  retains  the  mean- 
ing 'store -closet'  (Dt  28^,  Sir  29'-,  etc.).  In 
other  cases  it  is  a  private  chamber  of  some  sort 
as  in  Mt  6«  :  e.g.,  Gn  43=",  Dt  32==,  Jg  3-^.  The  last 
case  is  noticeable,  ra/ieiov  is  defined  by  tw  Oepivw, 
and  represents  Tin  (hcdcr),  while  vTrepi^ol  in  the  con- 
text is  'aliyydh,  rather  implying  a  distinction.  The 
summer  '  upper  room '  (EV  '  parlour ')  liad  a  summer 
'  closet '  (E V  '  chamber  ')  attached  to  it.  In  the  one 
Eglon  was  with  his  attendants  till  Ehud  came,  but 
they  afterwards  .sui^posed  tliat  Eglon  had  retired 
into  the  other,  and  would  not  disturb  him. 

We  now  get  a  group  of  passages  which  explain 
To^eioy.  In  Ex  8^  (7-'»),  Jg  15',  2 (4)  K  6'2  IP,  2  Ch 
22",  etc.,  it  is  the  special  '  store-closet'  (leading  or 
opening  out  from  the  larger  room)  in  wliich  the 
bedding  required  by  night  was  stored  during  the 
day  (rd  Ta/iELa  tuv  koituv  or  Tap.e~iov  K\iiiii>p).\  In 
such  a  'closet'  the  Philistines  were  liiding  while 
Delilah  practised  her  wiles  on  Samson  (Jg  16"-  '2, 
LXX,  also  Ec  10^»).  In  such  a  '  closet '  for  holding 
the  bedding,  the  baby  prince  Joash  was  concealed 
when  Athaliah  murdered  the  rest  of  the  royal 
family.  Samson  was  possibly  in  the  '  living-room  ' 
when  his  wife's  father  prevented  him  from  entering 
the  ranetov  (Jg  151  LXX,  note  the  variant  of  A  ei's 
t6v  KoiTuva).  Such  small  rooms  or  closets  could  be 
used  as  more  private  sleeping-rooms  if  required, 
and  would  also  be  available  for  private  conference, 
concealment,  or  any  similar  purpose,  as  well  as  for 
the  normal  use  of  storing  the  bedding  and  other 
things  which  were  not  immediately  required.  Our 
Lord  advised  their  use  for  private  prayer.  Thus 
storage  was  the  primary  purpose  of  the  apartment. 
The  other  uses  were  secondary  ones,  or  adaptations. 

The  AV  '  closet '  is  therefore  quite  as  correct  as 
the  RV  'inner  chamber.'  Of  course  we  do  not 
think  of  an  European  cupboaid  >Mth  shelve=,  in 

.!«T«Ts»)  cf  Liddell  and  &cott  mb  loce  WH  Notei  on  Ortho 
graph  I  11  146  I'O  The  Texlii',  Receptus  according  to  hen 
\  pner  has  the  older  form  in  Mt  (>>  but  the  later  one  in  the  three 

Carr  <-  /  /  ooh    Tholuck    =.  / 

Mount    1 1  ter  huinoel    and  \ 

*  f  ""f   "  I  Purdoe  C  ti/    I 

1  "      Hatto  /■  ;  i  I  bii-  and  J  1\  11      IJ  /  / 


which  a  ])erson  could  hardly  stand.  But  Dryden 
(Fi(l)lcs)  possibly  uses  'closet'  in  the  sense  of  a 
'  store-eloset,'  as  rafietov  in  Lk  12=*,  though  he  iiuiy 
Iia\  e  meant  '  private  chamber ' : 

'  He  furnishes  her  closet  first,  and  fills 
The  crowded  shelves  with  rarities  of  shells.' 
Shakespeare  has  the  other  use  : 

'The  taper  burncth  in  your  closet'  (Jid.  Cms.  ii.  1).« 
On  the  curious  Latin  renderings  of  d  [promptaUbus) 
e  (promj)tuariis)  in  Lk  12",  and  d  (promptuariitm) 
in  Lk  12=*,  cf.  Konsch,  Itala  vnd  Vulgata,  pp.  32 
and  48,  and  Plummer,  '  St.  Luke,'  in  International 
Critical  Commcntarij .  GEORGE  FARMER. 

CLOTHES.— See  Dress. 

CLOUD.— The  cloud  appears  in  the  Gospels  at 
our  Lord's  Transfiguration  (Mt  17'  II  Mk  9',  Lk  9^*) 
and  (if  we  may  treat  the  first  verses  of  the  Book 
of  Acts  as  practically  jxart  of  St.  Luke's  Gospel) 
at  His  Ascension  (Ac  !'■').  Twice  also  it  lias  a 
place  in  His  own  prediction  of  His  coming  again 
(Mt  24**  II  Mk  132«  II  Lk  21=',  Mt  26''-'  ||  Mk  14«=). 

The  most  interesting  occurrence  of  this  cloud  is 
that  in  connexion  with  the  Ascension ;  but  it  is 
its  appearance  above  the  Mount  of  Transfiguration 
that  rules  the  interpretation  of  its  significance.  For 
there  a  voice  comes  out  of  it  wliich  is  that  of  the 
Heavenly  Father  :  it  is  seen  to  be  the  veil  of  the 
Divine  Presence.  Veiling  the  glory  which  no 
mortal  miglit  see  and  live,  veiling  yet  revealing 
the  Presence  of  God,  tlie  cloud  has  two  aspects,  of 
which  the  greater  and  more  characteristic  is  not 
the  negative  one  of  veiling,  but  that  positive  aspect 
in  which  it  attests  and  manifests  the  Divine  Pre- 
sence. To  come  under  its  shadow  (a  '  shadow,'  it 
would  seem,  of  light,  since  it  was  veij>i\ri  ipwrem^) 
awoke  in  the  disciples  the  dread  felt  by  Jacob  at 
Bethel.  And  for  the  same  reason — that  this  cloud 
is  a  '  gate  of  heaven,'  at  which  a  man  may  stand  to 
hear  tlie  voice  of  God.  Here,  in  this  bright  cloud, 
the  two  spheres,  earthly  and  heavenly,  open  upon 
each  other.  The  cloud  is  less  a  veil  than  a  lifting 
of  the  veil.  Here  the  invisible  barrier  becomes 
a  portal  of  heaven,  through  which  may  come  the 
voice  of  the  Almighty,  and  entering  by  which 
Christ  is  passed  into  heaven.  It  is  a  '  cloud  of 
heaven ' :  with  earth  and  human  life  upon  this 
side  of  it,  and  on  the  other  side  (not  sky  and  stars, 
but)  the  invisible  things  of  God,  the  heavenly 
sphere,  the  other  world. 

Thus  in  our  Lord's  Ascension  we  do  not  conceive 
of  Him  as  '  going  up '  fartlier  than  would  symbolize 
and  declare  His  departure  from  this  world :  '  He 
was  taken  up,  and  a  cloud  received  Him  out  of 
their  sight ' — they  saw  Him  go  and  thejr  saw  what 
door  opened  to  receive  Him.  As  identifying  this 
cloud  with  'heaven,'  compare  Ac  P,  'a  cloud  re- 
ceived him,'  with  1"  '  received  up  from  you  into 
heaven' :  with  which  agrees  2  P  1"-  '*,  '  there  came 
a  voice  to  him  out  of  the  excellent  glory  .  .  .  and 
this  voice  we  (ourselves)  heard  brought  out  of 
heaven.'  The  voice  out  of  the  cloud  was  'out  of 
heaven ' — the  disciples  in  beholding  Christ  enter 
the  cloud  '  beheld  him  going  into  heaven.' 

If  for  us  the  cloud  is  as  a  door  which  closes,  a 
veil  that  hides  (as  God  verily  is  a  God  that  hideth 
Himself),  this  is  of  „race       thou  canst  not  follow 

*A  late  member  of  the  Ab]  of  Canterburj  s  Assyrian 
Mission  informs  the  writer  of  this  article  that  the  Peshitti 
word  in  the  form  ta  ua    i    i&    till  retained  in  certa  n  i_irtsol 


340 


COAL 


COCK-CROWING 


me  now '  (Jn  13'") — '  ye  cannot  bear  it  now '  (16'=). 
And  the  cloud  is,  for  Christ's  disciples,  itself  an 
excellent  glory,  since  He  is  now  passed  within  it 
(not  behind  as  our  earthly  sun),  filling  it  with 
brightness  of  light.  He,  our  Redeemer  and  Advo- 
cate, the  Lord  who  is  our  Brother,  is  now  within 
the  cloud  that  covers  Sinai,  that  leads  through  the 
wilderness,  that  shines  above  the  Mercy-seat ;  that 
is  to  say— in  all  that  by  which  God  draws  near  to 
man  (in  His  law  as  in  Sinai,  in  His  providences  as 
in  the  shepherding  of  Israel,  in  religious  life  and 
worship  as  in  the  Holiest  of  all),  Christ  is  present, 
and  the  love  which  He  has  made  known,  bestowed 
and  sealed.  To  His  disciples  the  Law  is  no  more 
a  threat  and  fear,  but  is  written  upon  the  heart 
for  honour  and  obedience  ;  and  God's  providence  is 
trusted — the  sheep  follow,  for  they  know  His  voice  ; 
and  for  the  deep  things  of  the  soul  there  is  a  great 
High  priest  passed  into  the  heavens,  and  they  that 
know  His  name  come  boldly  to  the  throne  of  grace. 
LiTBRATURB.— The  Coram,  in  loc.,  esp.  Swete  on  5Ik  9' ; 
Ruskin,  Frondes  Agrestes,  p.  178;  HuntinRdon,  Christian 
Believing  and  Living,  p.  168 ;  Westcott,  Jievetat.  of  the  Risen 
Lord,  p.  180 ;  Milligan,  Ascetision  and  Heavenly  Priesthood  of 
our  Lord,  p.  21  ff.;  Ya^ei,  Studies  in  the  Christian  Character, 

p.246ff.  Arthur  W.  WoTHERSPOON. 

COAL.— This  word  occurs  in  tlie  Gospels  only  in 
Jn  18'»  and  21'  (Gr.  in  both  avepaKid,  meaning 
properly  '  a  brazier  filled  with  lighted  charcoal '). 
As  a  mineral,  coal  does  not  exist  in  Palestine 
except  in  the  Wddy  Hummand  in  the  Lebanon, 
and  was  mined  there  only  during  tlie  rule  of 
Muhammad  Ali  about  1834  (Tlionison,  The  Land 
and  the  Book,  1886,  iii.  193).  Tlie  rendering 
'coal'  must  be  taken  as=' charcoal.'  Both  in 
ancient  and  in  modern  times,  the  latter  substance, 
prepared  from  native  timber,  has  been  the  common 
fuel  of  the  East.  The  destruction  of  the  forests 
of  Palestine  and  Syria  may  be  assigned  as  the 
main  reason  for  tlie  absence  of  timbered  gables, 
and  the'universal  prevalence,  instead,  of  brickwork 
cupola  roofs,  and  also  for  the  wretched  substitutes 
for  fuel  now  employed  by  the  natives,  such  as  sun- 
dried  cakes  of  chaff  and  dung,  etc.  The  charred 
roots  of  the  desert  broom  {rdtkein,  see  Ps  120^)  make 
an  excellent  fuel,  and  are  much  in  demand  in  Cairo 
(Tristram,  Nat.  Hist,  of  Bible,  1889,  p.  360). 

The  geological  survey  of  Palestine  reveals  its 
unifornily  cretaceous  formation,  extending  from  the 
Lebanon  ranges  to  the  plateau  of  Hebron.  The 
earlier  rocks  of  the  carboniferous  period,  if  they  do 
exist  there  at  all  under  the  subsequent  strata,  are 
buried  at  quite  inaccessible  depths.  Traces  of  car- 
boniferous outcrop,  but  destitute  of  carbonaceous 
deposits,  have  been  found  in  the  sandstone  of  the 
southern  desert  and  the  limestone  of  the   WMi/ 


LiTERATL'RE.— W.  M.  Thomson,  The  Land  and  the  Book,  1886, 
iii.  193 ;  Tristram,  Nat.  Hist,  of  Bible,  1889,  p.  360  ;  Conder, 
Tent  Work  in  Pal.  ii.  326;  Hull,  Jfoun!  Seir,  etc.,  1889,  p.  194  ; 
Gesenius,  Thesaurus,  p.  280  ;  HastinKs'  DB,  article  '  Coal.' 

P.  Henderson  Aitken. 

COAT.— This  word  in  the  Gospels  usually  repre- 
•sents  the  Gr.  xiTii;/,  i.e.  the  tunic  or  long  close- 
fitting  under  garment  worn  in  Palestine,  as  opposed 
to  the  ifiaTiov  or  full  and  flo\ving  outer  garment  (see 
Hastings'  DB,  art.  'Dress'). 

Our  Lord's  instructions  to  tlie  Twelve  included 
one  which  forbade  their  wearing  or  having  in  their 
possession  more  than  one  such  garment  (Mt  10'°, 
Mk  6',  Lk  9» ;  cf.  Lk  3").  And  in  the  Sermon  on 
the  Mount  (Mt  5^° ;  cf.  Lk  6=«)  we  are  bidden  to 
cultivate  such  a  .spirit  of  meekness  as  would  be 
illustrated  by  a  readiness  to  part  even  with  one's 
cloak  {i/.tcLTtol')  to  him  who  took  away  one's  coat.* 

^  In  Luke  the  order  is  transposed,  the  cloak  comini:  liefore 
the  coat,  this  being  the  order  in  which  these  two  uaiintnts 
would  be  torn  off. 


The  soldiers  at  the  Crucifixion  (Jn  19=='-  -*)  took 
possession  of  the  Saviour's  garments,  according,  we 
suppose,  to  the  usual  practice.  The  outer  robes 
they  divided  into  four  parts,  one  for  each  of  the 
quaternion,  but  for  the  coat  {rbv  x'TuJ^a),  in  close 
fulfilment  of  Ps  22",  they  cast  lots,  not  wishing  to 
tear  it  up,  because  it  was  '  without  seam,  woven 
from  the  top  throughout.'  Josephus  {Ant.  iii. 
vii.  4),  quoted  by  Bp.  Westcott,  tells  us  that  the 
long  robe  (xiruf  jroSiipi/s)  of  the  high  priest  was  of 
this  character  :  '  This  vesture  was  not  composed  of 
two  pieces,  nor  was  it  sewed  together  upon  the 
shoulders  and  the  sides,  but  it  was  one  long  vest- 
ment, so  woven  as  to  have  an  aperture  for  the 
neck '  ( Whiston's  tr. ).  Bp.  Westcott  further  quotes 
Chrysostom,  who  perhaps  wrote  from  personal 
knowledge,  as  thinking  '  that  the  detail  is  added 
to  show  "the  poorness  of  the  Lord's  garments,  and 
that  in  dress  as  in  all  other  things  He  followed  a 
simple  fashion." '  Others  incline  to  the  view  that 
there  is  a  parallel  suggested  between  the  Eternal 
High  Priest's  garment  and  that  of  the  Aaronic 
high  priest.  In  any  case  the  seamless  robe  of 
Christ  has  often  been  taken  as  a  type  of  the  One 
(ideally)  Undivided  Church,  e.g.  by  Cyprian  in  a 
famous  passage  {de  Unit.  Eccl.  %  7),  where  he  con- 
trasts the  'incorrupta  atque  individua  tunica'  of 
Christ  with  the  prophet  Ahijah's  robe,  which  he 
tore  in  duodecim  scissuras  in  token  of  the  disrup- 
tion of  the  kingdom  (1  K  ll**"-),  and  concludes: 
'  Sacramento  vestis  et  signo  declaravit  ecclesise 
unitatem.'  For  the  part  wliich  the  Holy  Coat  has 
played  in  legend  at  Treves  and  elsewhere,  those  who 
are  curious  in  such  matters  may  consult  Gilden- 
meister  and  v.  Sybel,  Der  Heilige  Rock  zu  Trier  und 
die  20  anderen  heiligcn  ungenahten  Bocke',  1845. 

We  may  note  finally:  (1)  that  the  word  'coat' 
(so  RV;  AV  'fisher's  coat')  in  Jn  21'  stands  for 
the  large  loose  garment  (iTrevSiTris)  which  St.  Peter 
threw  as  a  covering  over  his  almost  naked  body 
when  he  left  his  fishing  and  came  into  the  Master  s 
presence ;  (2)  that  it  was  the  under-garments 
(xiTui-es)  that  the  high  priest  rent  when  he  '  heard 
the  blasphemy'  at  our  Lord's  trial  (Mk  14"^;  see 
Swete's  notes,  in  loc.).  See  also  Cloke,  Dress. 
C.  L.  Feltoe. 

COCK See    An'Bials,    p.   64",    and    following 

article. 

COCK-CROWING  (dXe/(To/)o0Mi';a).  —  The  word 
occurs  only  in  Mk  13'*,  where  it  is  evidently  used 
to  designate  the  third  of  four  parts  into  which  the 
night  was  divided — '  at  even,  or  at  midnight,  or 
at  (III'  r(Hk-rri>\\  iiiu,  or  in  the  morning.'  In  OT 
tiiiii'^  ihtri-  wi-vr  (.nl\-  lliree  watches  in  the  night — 
till-  liiM,  th.'  miliar.',  .'uul  the  last;  but  by  the 
tiiui'  nf  (liiist  till'  l!i)iiian  division  into  four 
watches  had  become  common,  though  it  had  not 
altogether  superseded  the  threefold  division  of  the 
Jews.  The  night  was  reckoned,  roughly  speak- 
ing, from  our  6  P.M.  to  6  A.M.,  and  these  twelve 
hours  were  divided  into  four  watches  of  three 
hours  each.  Jerome  says :  '  Nox  in  quatuor  vigilias 
dividitur,  qua?  singul;e  trium  horaruin  spatio  sup- 
putantur '  (£•/?.  cxl.  8).  Tlie  cock-crowing  in  Mk 
13'*  thus  refers  to  the  third  watch  of  the  night, 
between  the  hours  of  12  and  3. 

Although  the  noun  '  cock-crowing '  occurs  only 
once  in  the  NT,  each  of  the  four  Evangelists 
records  the  fact  that  on  the  night  of  the  betrayal 
Jesus  forewarned  Peter  that  before  the  cock  crew 
he  should  thrice  deny  his  Lord,  and  each  of  them 
also  records  a  crowing  of  the  cock  immediately 
after  the  denial  (Mt  26*'  and  "■  ",  Lk22'^  and  «»•  ", 
.In  1338  18=^).  In  St.  Mark  we  have  the  variations 
—all  the  more  significant  because  of  the  writer's 
commonly  acknowledged  dependence  uiwn  the 
Petrine  tradition — that  Jesus  said  to  Peter, '  Before 


COINS 


COMFOET 


341 


the  cock  crow  tivicc,  thou  shalt  deny  me  thrice ' ; 
and  in  correspondence  with  this  a  record  of  two 
distinct  cock-crowings  (Mk  H^"-  ««•  ■>■). 

Attempts  have  been  made  to  distinguisli  between 
these  two  cock-crowings  in  St.  Mark  as  occurring 
at  definite  seasons  of  the  night,  the  one  about 
midnight  and  the  other  at  the  first  approaeli  of 
dawn,  just  before  the  commencement  of  the  fourth 
or  morning  watch,  and  to  define  tlie  second  of  the 
two  as  tlie  gallicinium  proper,  and  consequently 
the  only  one  of  which  the  other  three  Evangelists 
take  notice.  No  doubt  it  is  true  that  in  the  most 
distinctive  sense  of  the  word  '  the  cock-crowing,' 
as  an  indication  of  time,  refers  to  the  breaking  of 
the  dawn ;  thus  in  the  Talmud  it  is  prescribed 
that  at  cock-crow  the  benediction  shall  be  used : 
'  Praised  be  Thou,  O  God,  the  Lord  of  the  world, 
that  givest  understanding  to  the  cock  to  dis- 
tinguish between  day  and  night.'  But  as  a  matter 
of  fact  cocks  crow  during  the  night,  in  the  East  as 
elsewhere,  at  irregular  times  from  midnight  on- 
ward ;  and  the  narrative  of  Mk  14"*-'=  does  not 
suggest  that  there  was  an  interval  of  anything 
like  three  hours  between  the  first  cock-crowing 
and  the  second.  The  probability  is  that  Jesus 
meant  no  more  than  this,  that  before  Peter  him- 
self had  twice  heard  the  cock  crow  he  should 
thrice  have  been  guilty  of  his  great  denial.  And 
if  we  accept  St.  Mark's  narrative  as  embodying 
Peter's  own  account  of  the  incident,  it  will  seem 
natural  that  the  disciple  to  whom  the  warning 
was  directly  addressed,  and  on  whom  it  would 
make  the  aeepest  impression,  should  distinguish 
between  two  sejiarate  cock-crowings  where  others 
thought  only  of  the  last. 

There  is  no  mention  of  the  cock  in  the  Mosaic 
law,  and  the  supposed  allusion  to  the  breed  in  1  K 
4^*  (D-13-13,  translated  'fatted  fowls'  both  in  AV 
and  RV  j  is  very  doubtful.  It  may  be  that  Solomon 
had  imported  these  birds  from  the  East ;  but,  on 
the  other  hand,  the  fact  that  in  the  Talmudical 
literature  the  cock  is  always  called  by  the  name 
tarnegdl  (^niyi),  suggests  rather  that  it  was  intro- 
duced into  Palestine  from  Babylonia.*  But  while 
the  domestic  fowl  was  quite  familiar  to  the  Jews 
of  our  Lord's  time,  both  the  Mishna  and  the 
Midrash  state  that,  so  long  as  the  Temple  stood, 
the  breeding  or  keeping  of  cocks  in  Jerusalem  was 
forbidden,  on  the  ground  that  by  scratching  in  the 
earth  they  dug  up  unclean  things,  thus  spreading 
the  contagion  of  Levitical  uncleanness,  and  even 
contaminating  the  sacrifices  of  the  altar.  On 
this  ground  exception  has  sometimes  been  taken, 
especially  from  Jewish  sources,  to  the  statements 


of  the  Evangelists  as  to  the  crowing  of  the  cock  in 
Jerusalem  on  the  night  before  the  crucifixion.  But 
if  such  an  ordinance  existed,  it  is  very  unlikely 
that  it  could  be  strictly  enforced  in  a  city  like 
Jerusalem,  with  a  large  and  mixed  population. 
In  partiwilar,  we  must  remember  that  cock-fighting 
was  one  of  the  favourite  sports  of  the  Romans ; 
and  the  Roman  soldiers  of  the  garrison  would  con- 
cern themselves  very  little  about  any  Jewish  pro- 
hibition of  this  kind. 

Literature.  —  Grimm-Thayer,  Lexicon,  s.v.  ccXucrcpoi^cviu, ; 
Smith's  Lat.-Eng.  Diet.  s.».  '  Vigilia' ;  Meyer's  Commentarv  on 
Matthew ;  Lange's  Life  of  Christ ;  Andrews,  Life  0/  our  Lord 
upon  the  Earth,  p.  521 ;  Eneiic.  BiU.  and  Jewish  Encyclo- 
pedia,   articles    'Coclc'  and    'Day';    Hastings'    DB,    articles 


J.  C.  Lambert. 


'Cock'  and  'Time,'  cf.  Extra  Vol. 

COINS.— See  Money. 


COLT — See  Animals,  p.  63^,  and  Entey  into 
Jerusalem. 

*  A  reference  to  the  cock  is  found  by  some  scholars  in  Pr  3031 
(EV  'ttreyhound'),  where  the  Tni  (mrzlr)  of  MT  is  rendered 
b.\  the  LXX  ixixr^^p ;  similarly  Aquila  and  Theodotion,  the 
Peshitta  (-/llihakM)  and  the  Vulgate  (gatliiK). 


COMFORT — The  English  word  '  comfort '  means 
being  made  strong  together.  The  idea  seems  to  be 
that  sorrow  weakens  or  shatters  the  whole  system 
of  the  afflicted  man,  and  that  the  dispelling  "of  his 
grief  braces  him  up  anew.  The  sore  is  not  merely 
plastered  over  or  covered  with  a  surface  skin,  but 
healed,  so  that  the  sufferer  becomes  as  vigorous  as 
before.  Such  is,  indeed,  the  comfort  imparted  by 
Christ.  In  connexion  therewith  the  words  Trapa- 
KaXiu  and  Bapaiu,  or  Bappiw,  are  both  employed. 
In  NT  'beseech,'  'entreat,'  'exhort'  are  all  used 
as  equivalents  for  wapaKoKioi,  while  irapiK^ritrii  is 
most  frequently  rendered  '  consolation '  in  AV,  and 
eapaiui  or  eappiui  (the  former  in  imperat.  only)  is 
commonly  translated  'to  be  of  good  cheer.'  But 
both  TrapaKa\4w  and  Trap6.K\-q(ri.s  are  occasionally 
rendered  'comfort'  in  AV  {e.g.  Mt  6*,  2  Cor  P), 
while  in  RV  'comfort '  has  usually  been  substituted 
for  '  consolation '  of  AV  in  the  rendering  of  the 
noun.  In  three  places  (Mt  9",  Mk  10*',  Lk  8^) 
AV  renders  edpaei  '  Be  of  good  comfort.'  In  the 
first  two  RV  substitutes  '  Be  of  good  cheer,'  and 
in  the  last  drops  eipau  from  the  text.  In  Jn. 
TrapdK\7jTos,  which  occurs  four  times  (14'^'  -''  15-*  16'), 
always  appears  in  EV  as  '  the  Comforter.' 

While  the  mission  of  Christ  was  mainly  to  save 
men  from  their  sins,  it  was  also  His  purpose  to 
bring  them  true  relief  from  their  troubles.  In  His 
sermon  at  Nazareth  (Lk  4'""")  He  applied  to  Him- 
self the  prophecy  of  Isaiah  (61'-3),  which  tells  that 
the  Messiah  was  '  to  comfort  all  that  mourn.'  He 
would  indeed  have  failed  to  fulfil  the  Messianic 
expectation  if  He  had  not  set  Himself,  alike  by 
His  person,  His  gospel,  and  His  work,  to  heal  the 
broken  in  heart  and  to  comfort  the  jieople  of  God's 
choice  (cf.  Is  40').  Among  pious  Jews  the  phrase 
had  become  a  holy  oath,  Ita  videam  coiisolatio7zcm, 
etc.  (Alford  on  Lk  2-^).  Thus  Simeon  is  said  to 
have  been  '  looking  for  the  consolation  of  Israel ' 
{loc.  cit.),  where  vapaKKrjcLv  has  almost  a  personal 
import  as  though  equivalent  to  rbv  Xpurrbv  Kvpiov. 
The  whole  gospel  of  Jesus  Christ  is  therefore  one 
of  good  tidings  to  the  afflicted,  the  destitute,  the 
oppressed.  The  removal  of  the  cause  of  woe  in- 
volves the  furtherance  of  the  cure  of  woe.  In 
answer  to  the  Baptist's  question,  Jesus  named,  as 
one  of  the  signs  that  He  was  6  'Epxif^efos,  'the 
poor  have  good  tidings  preached  to  them '  (ei;o77€M- 
loDTai).  Accordingly,  in  the  very  forefront  of  His 
l)rogramme  as  announced  in  the  Sermon  on  the 
Mount,  Christ  gave  the  beatitude  of  comfort  to 
the  mourners  (Mt  5*).  As  the  Revealer  of  the 
Father,  moreover.  He  was  bound  to  make  comfort 
one  of  the  most  prominent  features  of  His  ministry, 
not  less  in  action  than  in  word.  The  Fatherly 
pity  (Ps  10313)  and  the  Motherly  tenderness  (Is 
66")  of  the  All-merciful  must  be  set  forth  by  the 
Son  of  God,  if,  looking  on  Him  and  listening  to 
Him,  men  were  to  be  able  to  see  the  image  and  to 
hearken  to  the  voice  of  God. 

Christ  is  well  fitted  to  afford  comfort  not  only 
by  His  Divine  knowledge  of  our  deepest  needs  and 
of  what  best  meets  these  needs,  but  by  His  own 
human  experience  of  affliction  and  woe.  The 
Man  of  Sorrows,  the  One  acquainted  with  grief, 
as  well  as  the  God  of  all  comfort,  He  can  appre- 
ciate the  necessity  of  consolation  as  well  as  apply 
the  consolation  that  is  availing.  Having  suflered 
in  temptation,  He  is  able  to  succour  them  that 
are  tempted  (He  2'8).  The  pangs  of  Him  who 
'  himself  bare  our  sicknesses '  fitted  Him  for  being 
the  true  Physician  for  the  wounded  in  heart. 
Through  His  own  weariness  He  has  won  multi- 
tudes of  the  heavy-laden  to  come  to  Him  for 
rest.*  The  exceeding  sorrow  even  unto  death  of 
His   own    soul    as    He    took   the   cup   from   Hi.s 


COMFORTER 


COMING  AGAIN 


Fatlier's  hand  tliat  He  might  taste  death  for 
every  man,  has  made  Him  able  to  give  ease 
and  peace  to  His  people  in  the  valley  of  the 
shadow.  One  of  the  occasions  when  comfort  is 
most  needed  is  bereavement :  and  perhaps  the 
tears  of  Jesus  at  the  tomb  of  Lazarus  (Jn  U^) 
have  been  as  potent  to  solace  the  stricken  as  His 
Avord  to  the  widow  of  Nain,  '  Weep  not '  (Lk  7"). 
When  upon  the  cross  He  commended  to  one 
another's  care  and  sympathy  the  Virgin  Mother 
and  the  beloved  disciple :  '  Woman,  behold  thy  son  ! ' 
'  Behold  thy  mother  ! '  ( Jn  19-°- "),  we  see  how  truly 
Christ  entered  into  the  heart  of  the  afflicted 
children  of  men. 

Christ's  dealing  with  His  own  chosen  followers 
was  one  of  special  tenderness  in  their  hour  of 
sorrow.  He  knew  that  while  on  the  wliole  His 
departure  was  expedient  for  them,  yet  it  would 
be  a  terrible  wrench,  and  expose  them  to  bitter 
persecution.  He  therefore  consoled  them  wlien 
sorrow  filled  their  heart  by  telling  them  that  He 
would  not  leave  them  orphans  (dp<f>avovs,  AV  '  com- 
fortless,' RV  '  desolate ').  After  His  ascension  He 
would  be  nearer  to  them  in  spiritual  presence  than 
when  with  them  in  the  flesh  (Jn  U's-:*,  cf.  Mt  2S^). 
By  rising  from  the  dead  He  would  be  Victor  over 
the  world  in  its  direst  and  fiercest  assault,  and 
if  they  shared  with  Him  the  world's  hate  they 
would  also  share  His  triumpli.  The  discourse 
(Jn  14-16)  which  began,  '  Let  not  your  heart  be 
troubled  :  ye  believe  in  God,  believe  also  in  me,' 
fitly  ended,  '  In  the  world  ye  shall  have  tribulation  : 
but  be  of  good  cheer  ;  I  have  overcome  the  world.' 

The  idea  of  future  compensation  for  present 
sufferings  is  not  wanting  in  the  '  consolation  in 
Christ.'  In  His  Father's  House  are  many  man- 
sions, on  entering  which  He  goes  to  prepare  a  place 
for  His  disciples,  where  they  shall  both  behold,  and 
be  partakers  of.  His  glory  (Jn  14=  17-"=^).  The 
same  idea  of  a  compensating  '  weight  of  glory '  for 
'  light  affliction  which  is  but  for  a  moment '  (2  Co 
4")  is  involved  in  the  parable  where  Abraham  says 
of  Lazarus,  '  Now  he  is  comforted '  (Lk  16=^).  On 
the  other  hand,  those  who  are  now  satisfied  with 
their  riches  and  have  no  hunger  for  righteous- 
ness, the  men  of  the  world  who  have  their  portion 
in  this  life,  '  liave  received  their  consolation ' 
(Lk  e"-"'  ==). 

See  also  following  article. 

Arthur  Pollok  Sym. 

COMFORTER  (Trapd/tXTjros).— A  term  applied  to 
Christ  in  RVm  of  1  Jn  2',  and  four  times  (Jn  W^-  -'' 
15*"  16')  to  tlie  Holy  Spirit.  For  the  meaning  of 
the  original  and  the  probable  source  from  which 
St.  .John  derived  it,  see  art.  '  Paraclete '  in  Hast- 
ings' DB  iii.  665-668.  The  active  sense  is  con- 
fined to  ecclesiastical  usage,  and  may  have  been 
emphasized  by  translators,  from  its  appropriate- 
ness to  the  circumstances  amidst  which  the  word 
first  occurs  in  Jn  14'* ;  but  the  passive  sense  may 
still  be  traced  in  relation  to  the  Father  and  the 
Son,  the  Spirit  being  called  and  sent  by  Tliem  to 
the  help  of  men,  as  well  as  for  the  purpose  of 
witnessing  for  God  at  the  tribunal  of  the  human 
reason  (Jn  15™).  The  English  terra  is,  however, 
quite  inadequate.  Whilst  there  is  a  suggestion 
of  actual  consolation  in  Jn  U'",  the  principal 
points  of  St.  John's  teaching  are  that  the  mission 
of  the  Spirit  is  contingent  upon  the  departure  of 
Christ  (Jn  16'),  is  thenceforward  continuous  and 
permanent  (Jn  14'"),  and  includes  functions  in  re- 
gard to  both  classes  of  men,  the  disciples  and  '  tlie 
world.'  The  latter  He  will  convict  (Jn  le'")  in 
respect  of  the  three  decisive  matters  (if  sin,  rii;ht- 
eousness,  and  judgment.  With  still  :i  sii^nilii-ant 
preference  for  words  of  an  iiiti-lli-ilnal  licuing. 
He  will  continue  and  com|>k4c'  tht-  iiisi ruction 
begun  by  Christ  (.In  14=«),  and  guide  the  disciples 


'into  all  the  truth'  (Jn  16'=).  See  art.  HoLY 
Spirit.  The  predominant  cast  of  these  phrases, 
ahuost  all  pointing  to  mental  processes,  is  in  itself 
a  sufficient  evidence  of  the  unfitness  of  the  term 
'  Comforter,'  for  which  '  Paraclete'  (wh.  see)  might 
with  advantage  be  substituted. 

R.  W.  Moss. 
COMING  AGAIN.-Though  He  had  appeared  in 
the  world  to  found  the  kingdom  of  God  and  fulfil 


the  Messianic  hope  in  its  true  spiritual  meaning 
[see  Advent],  Jesus  repeatedly  gave  it  to  be 
understood  that  the  object  of  His  mission  would 


not  be  perfectly  attained  in  that  first  coming 
among  men.  There  was  to  be  a  break  in  His 
visible  connexion  with  earthly  att'airs  (Mt  16=') ; 
He  would  depart  for  a  time  (Jn  14"  16') ;  but  He 
]n'oraised  that  He  would  come  again  to  continue 
His  work  and  carry  it  on  to  complete  fulfilment. 
As  the  clouds  of  danger  gathered,  and  a  violent 
death  loomed  in  view,  He  began  to  speak  with 
growing  frequency  of  a  marvellous  and  triumphant 
return,  in  which  His  living  presence  and  power 
would  be  gloriously  revealed.  His  sayings  on  this 
subject,  however,  are  not  always  easy  to  inter- 
pret ;  they  do  not  all  refer  to  the  same  event ;  we 
find  in  them  traces  of  His  having  in  His  mind 
more  than  one  coming,  and,  in  several  cases,  it  is 
only  by  a  careful  study  of  the  context  that  we  can 
discover  to  which  coming  His  words  were  meant  to 
point. 

The  comings  of  which  Jesus  spoke  from  time  to 
time  may  be  distinguished  as  follows  : 

1.  His  coming  after  His  death  to  make  patent 
to  the  disciples  His  continued  and  exalted  life, 
and  thereby  to  establish  their  faith  in  Him  as  their 
ever-living  Lord.  He  predicted  a  meeting  with 
them  in  Galilee  (Mt  26»=,  Mk  U^),  and  indicated 
that  though  for  a  little  while  they  should  not  see 
Him,  yet  after  a  little  wliile  again  they  should  see 
Him  (Jn  14'9 16"). 

2.  His  coming  to  enter  into  fellowship  with  the 
disciples  in  a  closer  spiritual  reunion.  As  the 
Risen  One,  He  was  to  return  to  them  and  abide 
Avith  them  continually  (Jn  14*--),  manifesting  His 
presence  through  the  Paraclete,  the  Spirit  of  truth, 
and  guiding,  teaching,  sustaining  them  by  His 
gracious  working  in  their  hearts  (U'"-  "  15=*  16'''). 
It  would  appear  that  in  this  sense  Jesus  regarded 
His  coming  again  as  a  vital  experience,  to  be 
shared  by  all  believers  in  all  after  generations, 
thus  foreshadowing  His  abiding  presence  through 
the  Spirit  in  the  Christian  Church. 

3.  His  coming  to  remove  the  disciples  from  their 
toils  and  struggles  on  earth,  and  take  them  to  the 
place  He  would  prepare  for  them  in  His  Father's 
house  (Jn  14=- '),  that  where  He  was  they  might  be 
also. 

i.  His  coming  at  the  great  crises  of  history  to 
bring  to  their  disastrous  issues  the  sins  of  societies, 
nations,  and  religious  institutions,  and  to  vindi- 
cate His  power  over  all  the  corrupt  agencies  in  the 
world  that  oppose  His  truth.  In  the  solemn  dis- 
course on  the  future  recorded  in  Mt  24  and  Mk  13, 
there  are  certain  passages  which,  as  usually  inter- 
preted, convey  the  impression  that  the  destruction 
of  Jerusalem  and  the  fall  of  the  Jewish  State  was 
one  such  momentous  crisis  that  Jesus  had  par- 
ticularly in  view  (Mt  24'»-=-^-«,  Mk  iS'^-^s- =«■  so ; 
cf.  Lk  19«-"  21=<'-=»-  ^-  35  23=«-»),  although  His  words 
may  be  recognized  as  covering  also  all  other 
marked  epochs  in  history,  in  which  His  triumphant 
glory  and  the  impotence  of  all  the  world-powers 
that  come  into  conflict  with  Him  are  made  clear. 
The  course  of  events  which  was  to  culminate  in 
the  ruin  of  Jerusalem  was  to  be  the  first  startling 
revelation  of  His  victorious  energy  in  asserting 
His  supremacy  in  the  affairs  of  men  and  nations  ; 
and  this  is  apparently  suggested,  in  vivid  figura- 


COMING  AGAIN 


COMING  TO  CHRIST 


343 


tive  language,  by  the  statement  to  the  high  priest, 
'Henceforth' — from  this  time  onward — 'ye  shall 
see  the  Son  of  Man  sitting  at  the  right  hand  of 
power,  and  coming  in  the  clouds  of  heaven'  (Mt 
26"'),  as  if  a  process  of  judicial  and  retributive 
manifestations  of  His  power  in  human  history 
would  then  begin. 

S.  His  final  coming  at  the  end  of  tlie  dispensa- 
tion He  had  inaugurated,  to  sit  in  judgment  over 
all  classes  and  nations  of  men,  to  apportion  their 
merit  and  demerit,  decide  their  destinies,  over- 
throw all  evil,  and  bring  the  kingdom  of  God  to 
its  supreme  triumph  and  glory.  This  final  and 
most  decisive  coming— which  will  be  more  fully 
discussed  under  Parousia — is  described  in  terms 
that  betoken  the  appearance  of  Jesus  in  august 
splendour  and  irresistible  authority.  He  is  to 
come  in  the  glory  of  His  Father  with  His  angels, 
and  reward  every  man  according  to  his  works  (Mt 
16'") ;  seated  on  the  throne  of  His  glory.  He  is  to 
gather  before  Him  all  nations,  and  separate  them 
one  from  another  as  a  shepherd  divides  His  sheep 
from  the  goats  (Mt  25^'-  '■'-).  That  is  to  be  the  Last 
Day,  the  termination  of  the  existing  order  of 
things,  when  all  pretences  will  be  exposed,  obsti- 
nate unbelief  and  ungodliness  punished,  and  faith- 
fulness crowned  with  its  eternal  reward. 

That  these  several  comings  were  present  to  the 
mind  of  Jesus,  seems  sufficiently  evident  when  His 
recorded  utterances  are  duly  weighed.  We  may 
assume  that  they  were  regarded  by  Him  as  the 
forms  of  manifestation  by  which,  in  the  future.  He 
would  give  proof  of  His  living  presence  and  conquer- 
ing power.  They  were  the  varying  stages  in  the 
development,  after  His  death,  of  His  victorious 
work  for  the  establishment  of  righteousness  and 
the  destruction  of  evil.  Hence  they  could  all  be 
conceived  and  predicted  under  one  name  ;  but,  as 
Beyschlag  remarks,  under  the  conditions  of  pro- 
phecy, each  stage  was  not  seen  as  something  apart ; 
they  were  felt  and  described  as  so  many  phases 
of  the  whole,  according  to  the  suggestion  of  the 
moment  (NT  Theol.  i.  202).  On  that  account  there 
is  discernible  in  the  predictions  of  Jesus  an  occa- 
sional blending  of  one  coming  with  another  ;  at 
least  in  the  reports  furnished  by  tlie  Evangelists 
it  does  not  always  distinctly  appear  to  what  pre- 
cise form  of  His  future  manifestation  His  words 
apply.  Probably  in  the  consciousness  of  Jesus  all 
His  future  comings  were  wrapped  up,  as  in  a  seed, 
in  the  thought  of  His  spiritual  coming,  His  coming 
in  the  fulness  of  His  spiritual  life  and  power,  as 
an  effective  and  abiding  force  on  the  side  of  God, 
to  act  on  the  hearts  and  lives  of  His  faithful  fol- 
lowers, and  also  on  the  general  life  of  the  world. 
This  view  makes  His  several  comings  fall  into 
line  as  phases  or  stages  of  a  continuous  process,  in 
which,  sometimes  through  the  qiiickened  vitality 
of  His  Church,  sometimes  through  the  catastrophic 
action  of  the  nioral  laws  and  forces  which  lie 
behind  the  movements  of  human  .society.  His  in- 
vincible operation  should  be  revealed,  until  the 
final  consummation  is  reached  in  the  sovereign 
manifestation  of  His  authority  and  glory  at  the 
end  of  the  age. 

It  has  been  suggestively  shown  by  Wendt 
{Teaching  of  Jesus,  vol.  ii.  '297,  303)  that  it  is  on 
the  utterances  of  Jesus  regarding  His  spiritual 
coming  in  the  hearts  of  believers  that  the  Fourth 
Gospel  lays  the  principal  and  almost  exclusive 
stress;  and  probably  it  is  in  the  light  of  Jesus' 
predictions  of  this  spiritual  or  dynamical  coming 
that  we  are  to  find  the  clue  to  what  He  meant  in 
His  sayings  respecting  the  historical  coming  or 
comings,  and  the  great  apocalyptic  coining,  which 
the  Synoptics  report  witli  ^^iiciiia  fulness  and 
detail.  The  coming  again  of  .Icsns  may  thus  be 
conceived  as  a  series  of    manifest  atioiis  of    His 


living  presence  and  activity  in  the  world,  cul- 
mihating  in  a  glorious  triumph  at  the  Last  Day, 
when  He  shall  sit  as  Judge  of  all. 

G.  M'Hakuy. 
COMING  TO  CHRIST.-Under  this  beading  we 
bring  together  a  number  of  passages,  all  sayings 
of  Jesus,  most  of  them  in  the  Fourth  Gospel,  which 
express  at  once  His  widest  invitation  to  men  and 
His  strongest  claims  upon  them.  Outside  these 
there  is  a  much  larger  group  of  passages,  occurring 
in  all  the  Gospels,  many  of  which  are  intimately 
connected  with  the  inner  group.  The  expression 
thus  freqiiently  occurring,  and  used  in  the  few 
passages  first  mentioned  to  convey  the  deepest 
truths  of  the  gospel,  is  based  on  the  everyday 
events  of  our  Lord's  ministry  and  of  ordinary  life. 
In  its  literal  meaning  it  occurs  constantly  through- 
out the  Gospel  narrative.  We  may  here  disregard 
this  widest  class  of  passages,  which  speak  of  the 
multitudes  who,  from  very  various  motives,  '  came 
to  Christ'  to  see  and  to  hear  Him,  and  fix  our 
attention  on  those  which  have  a  moral  and  spiritual 
significance.  The  latter,  bearing  directly  on  the 
proclamation  of  the  Kingdom  of  God  and  on  the 
conditions  of  membership  in  it,  are  of  supreme 
importance. 

Tl\e  coristruction.s  used  in  these  jjroups  of  passages  may  here 
be  noticed.  In  nearly  all  of  them  we  have  the  simple  verb 
ipx'l^i  followed  by  t(.o,-  with  the  accusative.  In  Mt  1128  ^e 
have  the  interjectional  adverb  ituri  with  -rps!  and  the  accusa- 
tive. In  the  kindred  passage,  He  7'^,  the  compound  Tpotrtp- 
X'u-cti  occurs  with  the  dative.  In  a  closely  allied  group  of 
passages,  which  we  shall  have  occasion  to  notice  later,  ip:c^f/Mt 
IS  followed  by  »t/»-i,  and  the  genitive.  The  call  to  the  earliest 
disciples  is  iiSr,  .V,™  «»  (Ml,  4i»,  Mk  1").  In  some  passages 
(Mt  16i"  igii,  Jn  5«i  6« ;  cf.  7^^  x  S2if.  1333)  the  aorist  of  i> j:»S«, 
is  used,  the  'coming'  being  regarded  as  complete,  while'  in 
others  the  use  of  the  present  indicates  that  the  'coming'  is 
thought  of  as  in  progress  (cf.  Westcott  on  Jn  (i-"*).  In  Jn  637» 
dill  with  T,;»;  and  the  accusative  signifies  arrival,  attainment. 
Ill  many  passages  of  the  second  group,  some  of  which  will  be 
used  in  illustration  of  the  sii 
coming  without  the  use  of 
tioned. 


the  phrases  here 


Anion"  the  crowds  who  flocked  to  Jesus  Mere 
many  who  came,  or  who  were  brought  by  their 
friends,  because  of  some  special  need.  Blind  and 
deaf  and  dumb  caine  to  have  their  lost  senses 
restored  (Mt  Q^-"'-  202»-,  Mk  7"="-,  Jn  d^"-  ct  al.). 
Lepers  cried  to  Him  for  cleansing  (Mt  8-"-  ||  Lk 
17'-"').  The  lame  and  the  palsied  came,  or  were 
brought,  to  Him  for  renewal  of  their  powers  (Mt 
9™-  II  .Jn  .')-"■•).  More  than  once  the  friends  of  the 
dying  or  the  dead  came  beseeching  Him  to  give 
them  back  their  loved  ones  from  the  grasp  of 
death  (Mt  9'8f-  ||  Jn  ll'"-).  Obviously  this  '  com- 
in'4 '  was  in  most  cases  much  more  than  a  mere 
physical  fact.  The  whole  motive  does  not  in  all 
cases  lie  open  to  us,  but  in  many  we  know,  anil  in 
others  there  is  no  room  foi-  doubt,  that  there  was 
behind  the  coming  an  attraction  of  His  person,  a 
perception  of  and  faith  in  His  power  to  bless,  a 
confidence  in  His  mercy  and  grace,  apart  from 
which  even  the  most  needy  would  not  have  been 
moved  to  come  to  Him.  This  is  in  some  instances 
conspicuously  clear,  and  is  recognized  by  Jesus 
with  joy.  Thus  the  '  faith  '  of  the  centurion  (Mt 
S^"-)  is  declared  to  be  greater  than  any  He  liad 
found  in  Israel.  For  her  '  great  faith '  the  prayer 
of  the  Syro-Phrenician  woman  is  granted  (Mt 
15J2fr.)  fi^g  latter  is  one  of  many  cases  in  which 
the  faith  of  those  who  came  to  Him  was  tested  by 
Jesus  before  He  complied  with  their  request  (cf. 
Mt  9-8,  Jn  i*',  and  many  others).  This  testing  of 
faith  shows  the  spiritual  significance  of  the  inci- 
dents, even  where  the  blessing  craved  and  granted, 
looked  at  merely  froiu  the  outside,  is  purely 
physical.  This  is  still  iimio  the  case  where  the 
need  which  brought  nun  to  Christ  was  not  physical, 
but  moral  or  spiritu.il,  r.,f.  Nicodemus  to  some 
extent.  (Jn  3),   Zacch:i'iis   the  chief  publican  (Lk 


344 


COMING  TO  CHRIST 


COMING  TO  CHRIST 


19-^-),  the  woman  who  was  a  sinner  (Lk  T*"^-).  and 
many  otliers. 

From  these  cases  we  pass  by  an  easy  transi- 
tion to  the  higlier  level  of  meaning  of  the  phrase 
'coming. to  cSirist.'  The  passages  in  which  this 
occurs  are  entirely  words  of  Jesus.  He  calls  men 
to  come  to  Him.  For  the  most  part  His  call  is 
that  of  gracious,  loving  invitation.  But  the  con- 
demnation of  the  Jews  because  they  would  not 
come  to  Him  (Jn  5" ;  cf.  Mt  22',  Jn  W)  shows 
that  under  the  graciousness  of  the  invitation  tliere 
lies  the  assertion  of  a  paramount  claim.  These 
:iii'  two  aspect-  tif  Christ's  call  which  it  may  be 
w.'ll  to  ((.nsiiliT  to  some  extent  apart.  Experi- 
iii.-ntally  th.y  imi-t  always  go  togetlier. 

In  -Mt  11-^"-  we  have  the  great  call  of  Jesus  to 
tliose  who  '  labour  and  are  heavy  laden,'  with  its 
promise  of  'rest.'  These  verses  bear  a  likeness  to 
several  passages  of  the  OT,  especially  to  Jer  6'^ 
'  Thus  saith  the  Lord,  Stand  ye  in  the  ways  and 
see,  and  ask  for  the  old  i)aths,  where  is  the  good 
way,  and  walk  therein,  and  ye  shall  find  rest  for 
your  souls.'  But  the  Heb.  word  I'i™  'rest,'  is 
rendered  in  tlie  LXX  not  by  oi'dTroi'irii',  the  word 
used  in  Mt  11*  (cf.  drairauo-m,  v.'-*),  but  by  ayvia iiini 
(or  ayiaa ii6v).  Some  lia\e  thought  that  there  is 
here  an  echo  of  the  words  of  Jesus  ben  Sua  (Sir 
g-.Mi.  ;8f.  5i23--'T)^  ,vit,i,  which  our  Lord  was  probably 
familiar  (see  Expositor's  Greek  Testament,  in  loco). 
But  the  words  of  Christ,  in  the  greatness  of  tlie 
call  and  of  the  promise,  and  in  the  connexion  of 
both  with  His  own  person,  go  far  beyond  those  of 
Ben  Sira  or  anything  which  we  find  in  the  canoni- 
cal books  of  tlie  OT.  The  call  is  probably  ad- 
dressed in  the  first  instance  to  those  who,  groaning 
under  'the  yoke  of  the  law,'  which  generations  of 
Rabbinic  teaching  and  Pharisaic  formalism  had 
made  intolerable,  had  no  hope  of  rest  for  their 
souls.  But  it  goes  beyond  that,  as  the  whole 
ministi-y  of  Christ  shows,  to  all  those  on  whom 
the  burdens  of  life  press  liea\  ily.  and  especially  to 
those  who  are  being  borm-  ilo«ii  l.y  the  weight  of 
sin.  To  all  Christ  offers  •  rest,  a  c  e.ising  from  the 
crushing  weight  and  from  the  hopeless  toil,  an 
inward,  satisfying  peace. 

The  words  of  Jesus  in  Jn  7"  (cf.  6^*^)  are  even 
greater  than  those  just  considered.  Un^er  the 
natural  figure  of  '  thirst '  and  the  companion  figure 
of  'hunger,'  He  speaks  of  the  deepest  needs  and 
longings  of  the  soul  of  man— not  those  which  are 
passing  and  accidental,  but  those  which  are  essen- 
tial and  permanent,  above  all,  the  need  of  God — 
and  promises  to  all  who  come  to  Him  a  perfect 
and  abiding  satisfaction.  They  should  not  only 
themselves  oe  satisfied,  but  by  the  'recei\4ng'  of 
the  Holy  Spirit  should  become  sources  of  blessing 
to  others. 

To  these  two  great  promises  we  may  add  the 
words  of  Jesus  in  Jn  5^°,  xvhich  imply,  under  the 
condemnation  of  those  who  would  not  come  to 
Him,  a  promise  of  'life'  to  those  who  do  come. 
This  evidently  means  a  life  other  than  that  which 
they  already  had,  a  life  in  union  with  God  as  con- 
trasted with  their  life  apart  from  Him,  a  life  in 
whose  abundance  man  finds  perfect  satisfaction 
and  the  purpose  of  God  is  realized,  a  life  which  is 
eternal.  Into  the  enjoyment  of  this  life  he  who 
'  cometh  to  Christ '  enters  at  once,  but  its  full 
realization  belongs  to  the  future. 

The  supreme  promise  of  Christ,  embracing  and 
transcending  all  others,  is  implied  in  Jn  1-1*  '  \o 
man  cometh  to  the  Father  but  by  me.'  Access  to 
God,  fellowship  with  Him,  are  dependent  on  com- 
ing to  Christ,  and  are  promised  to  all  who  come  to 
Him  (cf.  Jn  e""). 

AVe  infer  from  our  study  of  the  passages  cited, 
that,  on  one  side,  '  coming  to  Christ '  is  practically 
synonymous  with  faith  in  Him.     It  is  the  active 


movement  of  the  soul  towards  Christ.  More  than 
once  '  cometh '  and  '  believeth '  occur  as  parallel,  if 
not  virtually  synonymous,  expressions  (cf.  Jn  6*^ 
-37f.)  'The  first  word  presents  faith  in  deed  as 
active  and  outward,  the  second  presents  faith  in 
thought  as  resting  and  inward'  (Westcott  on  Jn 
6'^).  The  '  coming '  is  the  response  of  the  soul  in 
its  natural  cravings,  in  its  need,  in  its  sin,  to  the 
call  of  Christ.  It  is  its  recognition  in  act,  the  act 
of  trust,  of  His  readiness  to  receive  and  His 
power  to  bless. 

This,  however,  is  only  one  side  of  the  meaning 
of  the  phrase.  There  is  another  which  is  largely 
overlooked,  perhaps  because  it  does  not  immedi- 
ately appeal  to  man's  sense  of  need. 

Christ's  condemnation  of  the  unbelieving  Jews 
(Jn  5")  has  already  been  mentioned.  This  implies 
that  man's  destiny  depends  on  his  attitude  to 
Christ.  In  Lk  6*°*-  this  is  still  more  clearlj' 
stated.  'Coming,' the  first  movement  of  the  soul 
to  Christ,  is  associated  with,  and  derives  spiritual 
and  permanent  value  from,  hearing  and  doing  the 
words  of  Christ.  The  mere  lip  acknowledgment 
of  Him  is  nothin",  or  worse  than  nothing,  for  it 
brings  disaster ;  the  heart  acknowledgment,  issu- 
ing in  obedience,  is  everything.  This  is  stated 
e\en  more  strongly  in  Lk  14^  '  If  any  man  cometh 
unto  me,  and  hateth  not  his  own  father,  and 
mother,  and  wife,  and  children,  and  brethren,  and 
sisters,  yea,  and  his  own  life  also,  he  cannot  be  my 
ilisciple.'  The  next  verse  carries  us  a  step  further, 
from  the  'coming  to'  to  the  'coming  after,'  from 
the  negative  '  hating '  or  renunciation  to  the  posi- 
tive '  bearing '  or  '  taking  up  '  of  the  cross  (cf!  Mt 
16=S  Mk  8^^  Lk  9=').  These  are  Christ's  conditions 
of  discipleship,  stringent,  at  first  sight  even  re- 
pulsive. Mt  10"  may  be  compared  with  Lk  14-^, 
not  as  toning  down  the  demands  of  Christ,  but  as 
helping  us  to  understand  them.  He  claims  to  be 
the  first,  and  in  a  profound  sense  the  only  object 
of  man's  affection  and  devotion.  None  other  shall 
stand  before  Him,  none  other  beside  Him.  There 
is  here  no  condemnation,  no  abrogation  of  the 
claims  of  human  affection,  which  are  Divine  in 
their  origin,  and  have  been  strengthened  and 
beautified  under  the  influence  of  Christ.  But 
there  is  a  demand  that  these  shall  stand  aside, 
shall  be  put  aside  ruthlessly  and  with  the  heart's 
whole  passion,  so  far  as  they  come  into  conflict  or 
rivalry  with  the  claims  of  Christ.  The  'great 
possessions '  of  the  rich  young  ruler  stood  between 
liim  and  Christ.  Father  and  mother,  wife  and 
child,  do  the  same  with  others.  If  so,  '  he  cannot 
be  my  disciple.'  Further,  Christ  demands  the 
taking  up  of  the  cross  ;  that  is,  not  the  acceptance 
of  trials,  often  trifling  trials,  as  they  come  to  us, 
to  which  in  common  use  this  great  word  has  been 
reduced,  but  the  readiness,  for  His  sake,  to  follow 
Him  to  shame  and  to  death. 

While,  then,  'coming  to  Christ '  means,  on  the 
one  hand,  faith  in  Him,  a  movement  of  the  soul 
to  Him  for  the  acceptance  of  the  blessings  He 
offers,  it  means,  on  the  other  hand,  no  less  clearly 
an  absolute  surrender  of  the  soul,  of  the  whole 
man  to  Him.  This  asj)ect  of  the  truth  already 
emerges  in  Mt  ll-sf-  '  Take  my  yoke  upon  you,  and 
learn  of  me.  .  .  .  For  my  yoke  is  ea.sy,  and  my 
burden  is  light.'  This  involves  the  recognition  of 
Him  as  '  Lord,'  a  whole-hearted  obedience,  an 
absolute  surrender  in  which  nothing,  not  even  the 
clearest  object  of  earthly  attection,  shall  weigh 
with  us  against  Him,  a  readiness  to  sutt'er  shame 
and  death  for  His  sake.  This  is  to  '  come  to  him ' 
in  the  fullest  sense,  to  come  '  to '  in  order  to  coming 
'  after ' ;  this  is  to  become  His  disciple.  It  .seems 
harsh  and  repellent :  it  is  not  really  so.  It  is  the 
detachment  from  the  lower  in  order  to  attachment 
to  the  higher.     It  is  the  weaning,  it  may  be  the 


COMING  TO  CHRIST 


COMMANDMENTS 


wrenching,  of  the  soul  from  all  else,  that  it  may 
be  united  to  God.  There  is  no  other  way  to  the 
highest  good. 

The  call  of  Christ,  whether  it  be  regarded  as  an 
invitation  or  as  a  claim,  raises  in  an  acute  form  the 
question  of  His  Person.  Its  bearing  on  this  can 
only  be  indicated,  not  fully  discussed,  in  this 
article.  Christ's  call  is,  on  the  one  hand,  a  uni- 
versal call.  The  'all  ye'  of  Mt  U'-*  has  no  limits 
of  space  or  time  within  the  limits  of  human  per- 
sonality and  need.  It  is  the  gospel  for  all  men  of 
all  times  and  of  all  lands.  It  is  the  keynote  of 
the  whole  NT  and  of  all  evangelical  thought  and 
preaching.  On  the  other  hand,  Christ's  call  is  an 
exclusive  call.  It  is  '  Come  iinto  me,'  shutting  out 
all  other  teachers  or  saviours.  He  professes  to  be 
able  to  satisfy  all  human  need,  even  the  deepest — 
that  of  the  consciousness  of  sin.  He  claims  to  be 
the  only  object  of  affection  and  obedience.  He 
declares  Himself  the  only  way  to  God.  Either 
His  professions  and  claims  are  false  and  absurd,  or 
He  is  more  than  a  man,  more  than  the  greatest 
among  the  great,  than  the  best  among  the  good. 
If  we  admit  His  [claims— and  they  find  the  fullest 
justification  in  the  history  of  faith  —  we  must 
make  our  confession  with  St.  Peter :  '  Thou 
art  the  Christ,  the  Son  of  the  living  God'  (Mt 
16'«). 

Another  question,  the  full  discussion  of  which 
lies  beyond  the  scope  of  this  article,  must  be 
mentioned.  The  movement  of  the  soul  to  Christ 
does  not  originate  with  itself.  Jesus  traces  it  to 
the  '  drawing '  of  the  Father  (Jn  6''^*- ;  cf.  Jn  12'=). 
In  this  we  have  a  suggestion  of  the  doctrine  of  the 
Holy  Spirit.  But  it  is  obvious  that  this  involves 
neither  compulsion  on  the  one  hand  nor  lessening 
of  human  responsibility  on  the  other.  A  man's 
coming  to  Christ,  under  the  Divine  influence,  is  a 
voluntary  surrender.  A  man's  refusal  to  come  is 
and  will  be  just  ground  of  condemnation. 

It  remains  only  to  point  out  the  harmony  of  the 
rest  of  the  NT  with  the  teaching  of  Christ  in  the 
Gospels  in  respect  of  our  subject.  The  phrase 
'coming  to  Christ'  belongs,  it  is  true,  almost  ex- 
clusively to  the  Gospels,  and  is  found  in  its  highest 
meaning  mainly  in  that  of  St.  John  (but  see  1  P  2*, 
Rev  22",  and  cf.  He  7^=).  But  all  the  NT  is  Christo- 
centric,  and  implies  a  call  to  men  to  come  to 
Christ.  '  In  none  other  is  there  salvation :  for 
neither  is  there  any  other  name  under  heaven  that 
is  given  among  men  wherein  we  must  be  saved' 
(Ac  4'2),  sums  up  the  wliole  teaching  of  NT  history 
and  letters.  But  there  is  a  diii'erence  between  the 
Gospels  and  the  other  books  which  it  is  important 
to  notice,  not  a  difference  in  essential  truth,  but  in 
the  point  of  view  from  which  it  is  presented.  In 
the  Gospels,  '  Come  unto  me '  is  the  personal  call  of 
Christ  as  teacher  and  Lord.  In  the  rest  of  the 
N'T  the  call  is  to  the  crucified  and  ascended  Christ. 
This  is  indeed  anticipated  in  the  Gospels  {e.g.  Mt 
2028,  Jn  12»2  et  al.),  but  its  full  development  before 
the  death  of  Christ  would  have  been  premature,  if 
not  impossible.  Immediately  after  the  Crucifixion 
and  Ascension,  however,  these  two  great  historical 
facts  are  placed  in  the  foreground  of  Apostolic 
preaching,  e.g.  in  St.  Peter's  sermon  on  the  day  of 
Pentecost  (Ac  2),  in  his  remonstrance  with  the 
people  after  the  healing  of  the  lame  man  (ch.  3),  in 
the  declaration  before  the  Council  (!>""■).  They 
are  the  central  truths  of  the  Pauline  and  other 
letters:  'We  preach  Christ  crucified'  (1  Co  1=^), 
'  Far  be  it  from  me  to  glory,  save  in  .the  cross  of 
our  Lord  Jesus  Christ'  (Gal  6"),  'He  is  able  to 
save  to  the  uttermost  them  that  draw  near  to  God 
through  him,  seeing  he  ever  liveth  to  make  inter- 
cession for  them'  (He  7=^  cf.  Rev  S"  etc.).  We 
must  interpret  the  invitation  and  the  claim  in  the 
light  of  the  Cross  and  of  the  Throne. 


kt  s  Commentaries  on  John's 
Commentaries  on  the 
o/  Jcstm  the  Messiah ; 
da>  )  and  '  Kingdom  of 


IlfERATlRE  — W 

Gosi  els      Fdei 

Hastmts  -D-B  j,  . „.^„...  „, 

God   (Orr)    I)  /  i)j    Drumniond's  Rela- 

tion or  Apoit  I       hi  iq  of  Christ ;   Hort's 

1/enay  Tl     I      II         111    II      '^W\ens- Theol.  of  the  XT ; 
W  endt  s  featl     j  l/  Je  us     Beysohlafc  s  NT  Theology. 

Ch  \rles  S  Macalpine. 
COMMANDMENTS.— As  commandments  (^^roXal) 
Jesus  leco^nizes  (1)  the  injunctions  of  the  Deca- 
logue, (2)  certain  other  lequiiements  of  similar 
ethical  character  laid  down  in  the  Law.  In  one 
instance  (Mk  10°)  the  Mosaic  regulation  for  divorce 
is  quoted  as  a  'commandment,'  but  its  temporary 
provisional  natiire  is  clearly  indicated.  '  This  com- 
landment,'  gi\en  for  a  time  in  view  of  special 


circumstances,  is  implicitly  contrasted  with  the 
true  and  abiding  ivroXai.  In  the  case  of  a  purely 
ritual  ordinance  the  term  irpoaiTa^di  is  used  (Mt  8*, 


Mk  1«  Lk  S'"). 
The  1 


the  Mount  (Mt  ! 
(Mt  161-20,  Mli  T 
oung  ruler  (Mt 


His  attitude  to 
the  Sermon  on 
iris.aic  tradition 
■rply  to  the  rich 
(4)  the  dialogue 


with  the  la\v\ 

mentof  the  S.al,b.Uh  cou.nKiii.hnLiit  (Mk  -•:<■-',  Lk  6i-i»  131«16) 

will  have  to  be  considered  under  Law  and  Sabb.ath. 

It  is  assumed  by  Jesus  that  the  commandments 
were  given  directly  by  God,  and  as  such  they  are 
contrasted  with  the  '  traditions  of  men '  (Mt  15", 
Mk  ?*• ').  This  assumption  of  their  Divine  origin 
determines  His  whole  attitude  towards  them.  As 
ordained  by  God  they  are  valid  for  all  time  and 
authoritative ;  the  keepiu"'  of  them  is  the  neces- 
sary condition  of  eternal  life  (Mt  19",  Mk  10'») ; 
men  will  take  rank  in  the  Kiiigilum  of  Heaven 
according  to  their  obediriuc  di  thr  commandments 
(Mt  51").  It  is  objecU-a  1..  tli.'  l■|..■lli^(■(■s  us  tlu-ir 
chief  offence  that  they  li:n  c  |icr\  ci  IimI  and  ovcrhiiil 
with  tradition  the  comin:uKliiirnt>  (it  (jud  (Mt  W-, 
Mk  7'). 

In  view,  then,  of  the  Divine  origin  of  the  com- 
mandments, Jesus  accepts  them  as  the  eternal 
basis  of  morality.  His  own  ethic  is  presented  not 
as  something  new,  but  as  a  truer  and  more  inward 
interpretation  of  the  existing  Law.  It  has  been 
maintained  (most  notably  in  recent  times  by 
Tolstoi)  that  Jesus  in  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount 
enacts  an  entirely  new  moral  code, — five  new  laws 
in  contrast  to  those  ordained  '  in  old  time.'  This, 
however,  is  opposed  to  His  own  declaration,  '  I 
came  not  to  destroy  but  to  fulfil.'  The  authority 
which  He  claims  for  Himself  is  not  an  authority  to 
originate  laws,  but  to  explain  more  fully  in  their 
Divine  intention  those  already  laid  down  by  God. 
'  It  was  said  to  them  of  old  time,— I  say  unto  you,' 
implies  an  opposition  not  of  tlie  Decalogue  and  the 
new  Christian  code,  but  of  the  ancient  interpreta- 
tion of  the  Decalogue !in<l  tlie  Chiistian  intcrpieta- 
liciii.  AVlirrc  the  m.-n  of  old  tiuM!  ^tc.|.i.c.l  short 
with  thr  IcKiT,  .Ic-iis  uiih.M-;  llic  iinv^ir.l  i.iiiK-iple 


hibits  anger,  .scorn,  contention.  '  Tliou  sli.-ilt  not 
commit  adultery  '  demands  chastity  of  heart  as  well 
as  of  outward  act.  The  law  that  forbids  false 
swearing  requires  in  the  last  resort  abstinence 
from  alloaths,  and  perfect  simplicity  and  truthful- 
ness. The  case  is  somewhat  ditierent  with  the  two 
remaining  rules  which  are  subje<'ted  to  iTiticism 
('an  eye  for  an  eye,'  '  tliou  shalt  love  thy  neighbour 
and  hate  thine  enemy  ').  Here  our  Lord  indeed 
appears  to  set  new  laws  of  His  own  over  against 
the  imperfect  maxims  of  the  ancient  morality. 
But  He  is  still  emphasizing  what  He  conceives  to 
be  the  real  drift  of  the  Divine  legislation,  in  con- 
trast to  the  false  and  limited  constructions  which 
men  had  placed  ujion  it. 

The  ethical  teaching  of  Jesus  is  thus  based  on  the 


346 


COMMAXDilEXTS 


COiMMAXDMENTS 


Divinely  -  given  commandments.  It  claims  to  be 
nothing  more  than  a  '  fulhlinent,'  a  reinterpreta- 
tion  of  them  in  tlie  light  of  their  inward  spirit  and 
purpose.  At  the  same  time,  they  are  so  trans- 
formed by  this  unfolding  of  their  ultimate  intention, 
as  to  result  in  a  code  of  morality  which  is  radically 
new.  This  is  recognized  in  the  Fourth  Gospel, 
wliere  the  originality  of  the  Christian  law  is 
brought  into  clear  prominence  (see  art.  New  Com- 
MANDMEXT).  It  remains  to  consider  how  .lesus, 
while  accepting  the  commandments,  replaced  them 
in  effect  by  a  new  ethic,  different  in  character  hs 
well  as  wider  in  range.  The  process  by  which 
He  thus  transformed  them  can  be  traced,  witlx 
sufficient  distinctness,  in  the  Synoptic  teaching. 

(1)  The  Moral  Law  is  freed  from  its  association 
with  outward  ritual.  Jesus  does  not  definitely 
abrogate  the  ritual  ordinances  ('ye  ought  not  to 
leave  the  other  undone,'  Mt  23'^),  but  He  makes 
the  distinction  plain  between  these  and  the  higher 
obligations,  justice,  mercy,  and  faith.  He  sub- 
ordinates the  law  of  the  Sabbath  to  the  require- 
ments of  duty  and  humanity  (Mk  2-',  Lk  6'  IS'^- '«) ; 
He  confronts  the  formal  piety  of  His  time  with  the 
Divine  demand  as  stated  by  Hosea :  '  I  will  have 
mercy  and  not  sacrifice '  (Mt  9'^  12') ;  He  challenges 
the  whole  system  of  rules  concerning  meat  and 
drink  by  His  great  principle,  '  that  which  cometh 
out,  not  that  which  goeth  in,  defileth  a  man'  (Mt 
15",  Mk  7'^).  This  principle,  applied  to  its  full 
extent,  meant  the  abolition  of  the  Levitical  law. 

(2)  In  a  similar  manner  the  '  traditions '  which 
had  gathered  around  tlie  Law  and  obscured  its 
genuine  meaning  are  swept  away.  The  ethical 
teaching  of  Jesus  is  directed,  in  the  first  place, 
to  restoring  the  commandments  to  their  original 
simplicity  and  purity.  In  the  glosses  and  corol- 
laries with  which  Pharisaic  ingenuity  had  overlaid 
them.  He  sees  an  attempt  to  narrow  the  scope  and 
weaken  the  full  stringency  of  the  Divine  law.  He 
instances  the  casuistry  which  made  it  possible  to 
evade  a  strict  obedience  to  the  command,  '  Honour 
thy  father  and  mother'  (Mt  15'- ^  ilk  7'"").  As 
against  such  trifling  with  the  law  of  God,  He 
insists  on  an  honest  acceptance  of  it  in  its  plain 
and  literal  meaning.  The  ten  thousand  command- 
ments into  which  the  Decalogue  had  been  divided 
and  subdivided  are  to  give  place  again  to  the 
simple  ten. 

(3)  Not  only  is  tlie  Moral  Law  restored  to  its 
original  purity,  but  it  is  simplified  still  further. 
While  accepting  the  commandments  as  all  given 
by  God,  Jesus  recognizes  that  they  are  of  different 
grades  of  importance.  When  the  young  ruler  asked 
Him  which  of  them  were  life-giving.  He  singles 
out  the  more  distinctively  ethical:  '  Du  not  commit 
adultery,  do  not  kill,  do  not  steal,  do  not  bear 
false  witness,  defraud  not,  honour  thy  father  and 
mother'  (Mk  lO'*- «,  Mt  19'»- '»,  Lk  18=^).  So  the 
question  of  the  lawyer,  '  Which  is  the  great  com- 
mandment?' is  admitted  by  Jesus  to  lie  a  just  one. 
It  is  significant  that  in  His  answer  to  it  He  does 
not  quote  from  the  Decalogue  itself,  but  from  Dt 
6'  and  Lv  19".  He  thus  indicates  that  it  is  not  the 
formal  enactments  Avhich  are  sacred  and  binding, 
but  the  grand  principles  that  lie  behind  tliem. 
Those  sayings  extraneous  to  tlie  Decalogue,  which 
yet  lay  bare  its  es.sential  meaning,  are  '  greater ' 
than  any  of  the  set  commandments. 

(4)  The  two  requirements  thus  singled  out  are 
declared  to  be  not  only  the  greatest,  but  the  sum 
and  substance  of  all  the  others.  The  Law  in  its 
multiplicity  runs  back  to  the  two  root-demands  of 
love  to  God  and  love  to  men.  Of  these  two,  Jesus 
insists  on  the  former  as  'the  first  and  great  com- 
mandment.' The  duty  of  love  to  God  is  at  once 
the  highest  duty  required  of  man,  and  that  which 
determines  the  right  performance  of  all  the  rest. 


In  this  sense  we  must  explain  the  words  that  fol- 
low ;  '  Tlie  second  is  like  to  it '  (Mt  2'2^'-=»,  Mk 
j.j^i-si)  itg  .  likeness '  does  not  consist  merely  in 
its  similar  largeness  of  scope  or  in  its  similar 
emphasis  on  love,  but  in  its  essential  identity  with 
the  other  commandment.  The  love  to  man  which 
it  demands  is  the  outward  expression,  the  evidence 
and  effect  of  love  to  God  (cf.  Gal  5"  '  Faith  that 
wiirketh  by  love'  ;  1  Jn  4™  '  He  that  lovetli  not  his 
liinthii  whom  he  liath  seen,  how  can  he  love  God 
whiim  lie  hath  not  seen?').  Thus  in  our  Lord's 
-luminary  of  the  Law  we  have  more  than  a  resolu- 
tion of  the  Ten  Commandments  into  two,  corre- 
sponding broadly  to  the  two  divisions  of  the  Deca- 
logue. We  have  a  clear  indication  that  even  those 
two  are  ultimately  reducible  to  one. 

(5)  In  this  'summary'  the  Moral  Law,  however 
simplified  and  purified,  is  still  presented  under  the 
form  of  outward  enactment.  The  early  Catholic 
Church  so  accepted  it,  and  set  the  nova  lex  imposed 
by  Jesus  on  a  similar  footing  with  the  Law  of 
Moses.  Jesus  Himself,  however,  passed  wholly 
beyond  the  idea  of  an  outward  statutory  law.  His 
demand  is  for  an  inward  disposition  so  attempered 
to  the  will  of  God  that  it  yields  a  spontaneous 
obedience.  This  demand  is  implicit  in  the  '  sum- 
mary,' couched  though  it  is  in  the  terms  of  formal 
enactment.  It  says  nothing  of  particular  moral 
actions,  and  insists  solely  on  love,  the  inward  frame 
of  mind  in  which  all  right  conduct  has  its  source 
and  motive  :  '  A  good  man  out  of  the  good  treasure 
of  his  heart  bringeth  forth  that  which  is  good' 
(Lk  6^*} ;  '  Either  make  the  tree  good  and  his  fruit 
good,  or  else  make  the  tree  corrupt  and  his  fruit 
corrupt'  (Mt  12**).  The  ultimate  aim  of  our  Lord's 
ethical  teaching  is  to  produce  a  morality  which 
will  be  independent  of  outward  ordinance,  and  arise 
spontaneously  out  of  the  pure  heart. 

Thus  the  Decalogue,  which  in  appearance  is  only 
revised  and  expounded,  is  virtually  superseded  by 
Christ.  He  bases  morality  on  a  new  principle  of 
inward  harmony  with  God's  will,  and  discards  the 
whole  idea  involved  in  the  term  '  commandment.' 
It  follows  that  in  three  essential  respects  His  ethic 
difi'ers  from  that  which  found  its  highest  expression 
in  the  Decalogue,  (a)  Its  demands  are  positive  as 
distinguished  from  the  old  system  of  proliibitory 
rule.  The  Rabbinical  precept,  '  Do  not  to  another 
what  would  be  painful  to  yourself,'  is  adopted  with 
a  simple  change  that  alters  its  whole  character 
(Mt  7'-).  Where  there  is  an  inward  impulse  to 
goodness,  it  will  manifest  itself  in  active  love 
towards  men,  in  positive  obedience  to  the  will  of 
God.  (h)  The  ethic  of  Jesus  makes  an  absolute 
demand  in  contrast  to  the  limited  requirements  of 
the  ancient  Law.  The  chief  purpose  of  the  exposi- 
tion in  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount  is  to  illustrate 
and  enforce  this  difference.  '  I  say  unto  you.  Re- 
frain not  only  from  the  forbidden  act,  but  from 
evil  looks  and  thoughts.  Obey  the  Moral  Law 
without  condition  or  reservation.  Be  perfect  as 
your  Father  in  heaven  is  perfect '  (cf .  the  '  seventy 
times  seven '  of  Mt  18-).  This  absolute  demand  is 
likewise  involved  in  the  substitution  of  an  inward 
spirit  for  a  statutory  law.  The  moral  task  is  no 
longer  outwardly  prescribed  for  us,  and  makes  an 
infinite  claim  on  our  willing  obedience,  (c)  As 
opposed  to  the  Decalogue  with  its  hard  and  fast 
requirements,  the  teaching  of  Jesus  imposes  a  '  law 
of  liberty.'  The  moral  life,  springing  from  the 
inward  disposition,  is  self-determined.  It  possesses 
in  itself  a  power  of  right  judgment  which  makes  it 
independent  of  any  outward  direction.  It  origin- 
ates its  own  rules  of  action,  and  adapts  them  with 
an  endless  flexibility  to  all  changing  circumstances 
and  times. 

Our  Lord's  '  fulfilment '  of  the  ancient  Law  has 
thus  its  outcome  in  a  new  morality  which  cannot 


COMMEECE 


COMMISSION 


347 


be  separated  from  His  gospel  as  a  whole.  Wliat 
He  demands  in  tlie  last  resort  is  a  change  of  nature 
such  as  can  be  effected  only  by  faith  in  Him  and 
possession  of  His  spirit.  The  ultimate  bearing  of 
His  criticism  of  the  commandments  is  well  indi- 
cated in  the  words  of  Luther :  '  Habito  Christo 
facile  condemus  leges  et  omnia  recte  judicabimus. 
Immo  novos  decalogos  faciemus,  qui  clariores  erunt 
quam  Mosis  decalogus,  sicut  facies  Christi  clarior 
est  quam  facies  Mosis.'     See  also  Ethics. 

Literature.— The  various  Commentaries  (in  their  section  on 
the  Sermon  on  the  Mount),  e,g.  Holtzmann  (1901),  J.  Weiss  in 
Meyer's  Com,  (1901);  Loisy,  Le  discours  sur  la  montaone 
(1903) ;  also  articles  on  same  subject  in  Hastings'  DB,  Extra  Vol. 
(1904)  (cf.  art.  'Decalogue'  in  vol.  i.],  and  Encvc  Bibl.  (1903); 
Weizsiicker,  Das  Apost.  Zeitalter  (Eng.  tr.  1897),  i.  35  ff.; 
Pfleiderer,  Das  Urchristenthum  (1887),  489-601 ;  Wernle,  TKe 
Anfiiiuie  unserer  Religion (1901),  23-69 ;  Herrmann,  E(Ai*(1901), 
124-140 ;  Harnack,  Das  Wesen  des  Christenthums,  45 tf. ;  Bruce, 
Apologetics  (1S96),  34611. ;  Holtzmann,  JV^eirfese.  Theologie  (,\S97), 
130-160.  To  these  may  be  added  Tolstoi's  Mi/  Religion,  and  The 
Spirit  of  ChrisVs  Teaching  ;  also  books  of  popular  or  homiletical 
character,  such  as  Norton,  Commandments  of  Jesus ;  Gore, 
Sermon  on  the  Mount ;  Dykes,  Manifesto  of  the  King. 

E.  F.  Scott. 
COMMERCE.— See  Trade  and  Commerce. 

COMMISSION — Christ's  last  recorded  words  to 
His  disciples,  as  contained  in  Matthew's  Gospel, 
are  weighted  with  the  impressiveness  befitting 
such  an  occasion.  They  contain  a  commission, 
which  focusses  the  duty  of  professed  followers 
with  regard  to  His  own  Person  and  Work.  All 
four  Evangelists  give  this  Commission  in  one  form 
or  another  (Mt  28i»»'-,  Mk  \&^«;  Lk  24«-«  Jn  20='- '^S), 
Without  discussing  the  critical  questions  raised  by 
these  passages,  what  follows  is  based  on  their  his- 
toricity, as  that  has  been  held  by  the  Christian 
Church.* 

On  two  other  occasions  our  Lord  formally  com- 
missioned His  Apostles.  First,  the  Twelve  were 
sent  forth  on  a  trial  mission  (Mt  W-^,  Lk  9'"-). 
That  mission  was  limited,  both  as  to  area— the 
towns  and  villages  of  Galilee— and  to  objects— the 
lost  sheep  of  the  house  of  Israel.  It  aimed  (1)  at 
preparing  the  way  of  the  kingdom  of  heaven, 
which  our  Lord  came  to  found ;  and  (2)  at  train- 
ing the  Apostles  themselves  in  faith  and  fortitude 
for  the  more  responsible  work  afterwards  to  de- 
volve upon  them.  Later,  seventy  disciples  were 
chosen  (Lk  10),  and  sent— also,  apparently— to 
itinerate  in  Galilee.  Their  instructions  were 
similar  to  those  of  tlie  Twelve.  But,  as  opposition 
had  now  become  more  pronounced,  greater  em- 
phasis is  laid  on  it ;  ana  the  brethren,  like  cara- 
omieripatrols  in  modern  Italy,  travelled  two  and 
two.  The  instructions  given  to  botli  the  Twelve 
and  the  Seventy  may  be  called  lesser  commissions 
in  comparison  with  the  great  Commission  of  Mt  28. 
As  these  commissions  were  local,  temporary,  and 
provisional,  it  is  unnecessaiy  to  do  more  than 
mention  them,  except  for  purposes  of  comparison 
and  contrast.  At  one  point,  however,  there  is  an 
interesting  link  between  them  and  the  great  Com- 
mission. After  giving  His  instructions  to  the 
Twelve,  Christ  fell  into  an  audible  soliloquy,  and 
went  on  (vv.>«-^)  to  speak  of  the  trials,  the  duties, 
and  the  supports  of  those  who  in  subsequent  ages 
were  to  carry  on  His  missionary  work. 

That  Christ  should  speak  frequently  to  the 
disciples  about  their  future  work  during  the  forty 
days  between  His  resurrection  and  ascension,  is 
what  might  be  expected.  Tliis  accounts  for  the 
various  forms  under  which  all  four  Evangelists 
record  His  Commission.  Conditions  of  time,  place, 
and  circumstances  call   for  fuller,  or  more  con- 

•  It  should  be  noted,  however,  that  as  Mk  10»M  is  lacking  in 
the  best  MSS,  modern  scholars  are  practically  unanimous  in 
holdmg  that  these  verses  did  not  form  a  part  of  the  original 
Oospel   so  that  it  is  doubtful  whether  they  possess  any  in- 


densed,  general,  or  particular  statements.  Pro- 
ces.ses  of  repetition,  condensation,  expansion,  or 
omission  in  recording  the  subject  of  conversations 
which  extended  over  nearly  six  weeks,  were  present 
to  each  writer's  consciousness  as  he  penned  his 
narrative.  Grotius,  as  quoted  in  Poll,  Syn.,  says  : 
'  Uno  compendio  Matthseus  coraplectitur  pra;- 
cipua  capita  sermonum  quos  Christus  cum  Apos- 
tolis  non  in  nionte  tantum,  sed  et  Hierosolymis, 
antea  et  post,  in  ccelum  jamjam  ascensurus, 
Bethaniae  habuit.'  Notwithstanding  tliese  condi- 
tions, certain  essential  features  of  the  Commission 
correspond  in  the  Gospels,  as  the  following  table 
shows  : 


Contents  of  Commissios  common  to  Evangelists. 

Mt  2818«-. 

Mk  leir*.. 

Lk  2446  «. 

Jn  202123. 

Universal 
Mission 

Universal 
Mission 

Universal 
Jlission 

Mission  of 

undefined 

range 

Baptism 

Baptism  and 
Faith 

Repentance 

and 
Remission  of 

sins 

substance  is 
Forgiveness 

Promise  of 
spiritual 
Presence 

— 

Promise  of 
Comforter 

Gift  of  Holy 
Ghost. 

'  All  power  is  given  unto  me  in  heaven  and  on 
earth.  Go  ye  therefore,  and  make  disciples  of 
(ixadiiTeiaaTe)  all  nations,  baptizing  them  into  (eis) 
tlie  name  of  the  Father,  and  of  the  Son,  and  of  the 
Holy  Ghost :  teacliing  tliem  to  observe  all  things 
whatsoever  I  have  commanded  you :  and,  lo,  I  am 
witli  you  alway,  even  unto  tlie  end  of  the  world ' 
(Mt  28'8-™).  these  words  constitute  tlie  charter 
of  the  Christian  Church.  They  dehne  in  a  solemn, 
authoritative,  formal  manner,  the  Commission 
under  which  the  Apostles  and  that  Church  of 
which  they  were  representatives  were  to  prosecute 
to  its  consummation  the  work  begun  at  Christ's 
Incarnation.  If  our  Lord  gave  this  Commission 
in  presence  of  the  five  hundred  witnesses  referred 
to  by  St.  Paul  in  1  Co  15^,  we  can  understand  the 
remark  of  Mt  28'6  that  'some  doubted,'  for  tliese 
doubters  could  scarcely  at  this  stage  be  any  of  the 
Eleven.  Should  this  be  so,  'it  follows  that  the 
Lord  Himself  here  committed  His  formal  institu- 
tions and  commissions  to  the  whole  assembled 
Cliurch,  with  the  Apostles  at  her  head,  just  as  at 
a  later  day  He  poured  out  His  Spirit  upon  the 
whole  assembled  Church.  And  from  this,  then, 
we  argue  that,  according  to  the  law  of  Christ,  the 
Apostolic  office  and  the  Church  are  not  two  divided 
sections.  In  the  commission  to  teach  and  to 
baptize,  the  Apostolical  community  is  one,  a  united 
Apo.stolate  involving  the  Church,  or  a  united 
Church  including  the  Apostles'  (Lange,  Com.  on 
Matt.,  Edinburgh  ed.  p.  560). 

Peculiarities  in  two  of  the  Synoptists'  accounts 
are  noticeable.  St.  Luke  tells  how  Christ  opened 
the  understanding  of  His  disciples  that  they  might 
understand  the  Scripture  testimony  to  His  sufter- 
ing  and  resurrection  on  the  third  day.  Tliis  is  the 
line  which  we  should  expect  Christ  to  take,  if,  on 
any  of  the  occasions  when  He  discussed  their 
future  work  with  the  Eleven,  He  referred  to  His 
own  part.  The  Divine  necessity  for  His  death 
would  most  readily  impress  itself  on  tlieir  minds 
wlien  associated  with  intimations  thereof  in  the 
Law,  the  Prophets,  and  the  Psalms. 

Mk  16'"-  [a  passage  that  is  very  early,  even  if 


348 


coM]\nssio]sr 


COMMISSION 


not  from  the  pen  of  St.  Mark],*  wliere  the  promise 
of  miraculous  gifts  (aiifieia)  is  made,  has  occasioned 
difficulty,  because  it  seems  strange  that  any  of  the 
Evangelists  should  ha\e  omitted  to  mention  so 
great  an  endowment.  On  the  other  hand,  the 
historicity  of  tliese  verses  is  strongly  urged  by 
Calvin  on  a  priori  grounds.  He  argues  that  the 
power  of  working  miracles  was  essential  to  the 
establishment  of  the  disciples  themselves,  as  well 
as  necessary  for  proving  tlie  doctrine  of  the  gospel 
at  its  commencement,  that  the  power  was  possessed 
by  onlj;  a  very  few  persons  [but  cf.  v.",  where  the 
power  is  to  belon"  to  tliem  that  believe']  for  the 
confirmation  of  all,  and  (thougli  not  expressly 
stated  by  Christ)  granted  only  for  a  time. 

Turning  now  to  St.  Matthew's  narrative,  as  fullest 
and  most  formal,  the  first  noticeable  thing  is  that 
the  Commission  proper  is  prefaced  by  our  Lord's 
claim  of  univer.sal  pmcer ;  and  concluded  with  a 
promise  of  His  abiding  presence.  Tlie  risen  and 
glorified  Chri.st  speaks  as  Lord  and  King  of  heaven 
and  earth,  in  '  the  majestj;  of  His  e.xalted  humanity 
and  brightness  of  His  divinity'  (Lange).  His  dis- 
ciples, liaving  to  undertake  a  superliuman  task, 
required  to  be  assured  that  they  were  backed  by 
superliuman  authority.  Nothing  but  the  assur- 
ance of  such  power  at  their  disposal  could  nerve 
men  to  attack  those  strongliolds  of  sin  and  Satan 
which  must  be  overtlirown  before  the  kingdom  of 
heaven  can  be  established  in  human  hearts. 
Meyer  defines  the  power  here  claimed  by  Christ  as 
the  '  muiiKS  regiiuii  Christi  without  limitation.' 

By  ihe  promis,-  'Ami,  lo,  I  .am  with  you  alway, 
even  unto  tin-  end  of  the  world,'  Christ  assures  His 
followers  that  the  universal  power  possessed  by 
Himself  ^^■ill  be  at  their  disposal  when  engaged  in 
doing  His  work.  The  mystery  of  Christ's  name 
'S,ix.ixa.voini\—QoA  with  us,  is  here  fulfilled—/  in  the 
fullest  sense,  as  if  He,  the  risen,  exalted,  all- 
nowerful  head  of  the  Church,  '  stretched  out  His 
hand  from  heaven '  (Calvin).  He  is  present  in  tlie 
Person  of  the  Holy  Spirit  ( Jn  14"-  =«)  through  His 
Word  (14«)  and  Sacrament  (Mt  26^^).  This  pro- 
mise is  made  to  the  whole  Church  in  the  widest 
sense,  as  well  as  to  the  Apostles  and  all  who  should 
take  up  their  official  work  in  propagating  and 
preserving  the  Christian  Church  as  missionaries 
and  pastors.  Alford  says :  '  To  understand  lud' 
ii/jLuv  only  of  the  Apostles  and  their  (?)  successors,  is 
to  destroy  the  whole  force  of  these  most  weighty 
words.  .  .  .  The  command  is  to  the  LTniversal 
Church,  to  be  performed  in  the  nature  of  things 
by  her  ministers  and  teachers,  the  manner  of 
appointing  whom  is  not  here  prescribed,  l>ut  to  be 
learnt  in  the  unfoldings  of  Proxi'iiii'.'  n  i  ni,],.,!  in 
the  Acts  of  the  Apostles,  who  li.v  lli  p..;i|  ,„di- 
nance  were  the  founders  and  lii-'  IihIm.i  ..i  that 
Church,  but  wlio.se  office,  on  tir'l  r.  , w/  .:■  ,,iint, 
prcrluilcd  the  iihn  (if  succession  nr  riinir,//.' 

The  Mediatorial  Presence  is  to  last  unto  the  end 
of  the  «orld— w  hether  that  refer  to  the  end  of  the 
material  order  here,  or  the  end  of  the  present 
moral  and  spiritual  order,  for  Christ's  return  will 
make  all  things  new.  Schaff  points  out  that 
'unto'  (?ais)  'does  not  set  a  term  to  Christ's  pre- 
sence, but  to  His  invisible  and  temporal  jnesence, 
wliich  will  be  exchanged  for  His  visible  and  eternal 
presence  at  His  last  coming.'  An  important  link 
between  the  power  and  promised  presence— one 
which  connects  them  also  with  the  intervening 
Commission — is  this :  The  jiower  is  placed  at  the 
disposal  of,  the  presence  granted  to,  those  alone 
who  obey  the  command.  Go  and  disciple  tlie 
nations. 

The  Commission  itself  is  evangelistic,  or  mis- 

•The  critical  questions  connected  with  Mk  169-20  ■ 
and  thorougt'     '"  '  ■     "      ..«--.-- 

Mark,  Macniilla 


sionary,  and  pastoral — the  one  merging  into  the 
other,  with  Baptism  as  the  link  connecting  these 
two  departments.  Its  order  is  threefold — Disci- 
pling.  Baptizing,  Instruct ing.  All  nations  are  to 
be  brought  to  the  obedience  of  the  faith.  Their 
standing  is  to  be  sealed  and  ratified  by  the  sign  of 
the  gospel.  Then  their  instruction  is  to  go  on, 
that  so  these  baptized  .scholars  in  the  school  of 
Christ  may  reach  up  to  the  measure  of  the  stature 
of  the  fulnees  of  Christ. 

(1)  '  Go  ye  therefore  and  make  disciples  of  (juaffij- 
Tevaare)  all  nations.'  '  Demonstrably,  this  was  not 
understood  as  spoken  to  the  Apostles  only,  but  to 
all  the  brethren '  (Alford).  Go  forth— out  of  the 
bounds  of  Israel — and  disciple  tlie  nations, — con- 
vert them,  enrol  them  as  scholars  in  the  school 
of  Christ.  St.  Mark  specifies  the  means  by  which 
this  discipling  is  to  be  accomplished — 'Preach  the 
gospel'  (KJjpi/Jare  rb  evayyiXiov) %  herald  the  good 
news  of  a  crucified,  risen,  and  exalted  Saviour. 
By  the  mention  of  '  all  nations '  the  restriction  of 
10°-  ^  is  now  removed :  for  the  middle  wall  of 
partition,  that  divided  Jew  from  Gentile,  was 
broken  down  by  Christ's  death.  Christ's  words 
give  no  hint  of  an  answer  to  that  question,  soon 
to  disturb  the  early  Church,  about  the  method 
of  Gentile  admission ;  but  the  principle  of  their 
admission  is  emphatically  laid  down.  The  corre- 
sponding words  in  Mk  16'^  'Go  ye  into  all  the 
world,  and  preach  the  gospel  to  every  creature ' 
(jrdo-g  Tj  KTiaei),  emphasize  the  universality  of  the 
gospel  message  even  more  strongly  than  those 
of  Matthew.  All  the  world  is  the  sphere,  eveiy 
creature  the  object,  of  evangelistic  eftbrt. 

(2)  'Baptizing  them.'  The  Church  of  Christ 
being  a  visible  community,  to  be  gathered  out  of 
the  world  until  it  become  it.self  universal,  has  its 
peculiar  rites,  by  which  that  visibility  is  mani- 
fested. Besides  being  channels  of  Divine  grace, 
they  are  seals  of  Divine  favour,  and  pledges,  on 
the  part  of  disciples,  of  obedience  to  Divine  com- 
mands. Baptism  is  the  initiatory  rite.  It  signifies 
both  the  bestowal  and  the  reception  of  that  grace 
of  God  in  Christ  which  brings  salvation.  It 
testifies  to  the  adoption  of  believers  by  grafting 
into  the  body  of  Christ,  the  washing  of  regenera- 
tion, and  the  imputation  of  a  new  righteousness 
on  God's  part.  The  person  baptized,  on  the  other 
hand,  ratifies  by  his  signature  the  faith  in  Christ 
through  which  these  blessings  are  appropriated. 
A  profession  of  that  faith  has  been  required  in 
all  ages  of  the  Church  from  those  of  mature  years 
when  seeking  admission  to  her  pale.  This  pro- 
fession was  manifestly  intended  by  our  Lord  when 
He  instituted  the  rite  of  Baptism.  A  minority  of 
the  Christian  Church  confine  the  rite  to  those  who 


Baptism  is  '  into '  (ei's)  the  name  of  the  triune 
God — by  the  authority  and  unto  the  authority 
of  Fatlier,  Son,  and  Holy  Ghost.  The  unity  in 
Trinity  of  the  Godhead  is  distinctly  marked  by 
the  use  of  the  singular  tA  ivo/xa  instead  of  rd  ivb- 
liara.  These  words,  '  into  the  name  of  the  Father, 
and  of  the  Son,  and  of  the  Holy  Ghost,'  have  been 
used  for  ages  as  our  formula  of  Baptism  when 
admitting  candidates  into  tlie  covenant  of  Re- 
demption—  'into  the  name,'  'as  the  expression, 
according  to  the  common  Scripture  use,  of  the 
whole  character  of  God,  the  suni  of  the  whole 
Christian  revelation.  The  knowledge  of  God  as 
Father,  the  spiritual  birthright  of  sonsliip,  the 
l>o«er  and  advocacy  of  the  Spirit  —  all  these 
I)rivileges  belong  to  those  avIio,  in  the  divinely 
a])pointed  rite,  are  incorporated  into  the  Divine 
name '  (G.  Milligan  in  Expositor;/  Times,  vol.  viii. 
[1897]  p.  172). 

(.S)  '  Teaching  them  to  observe  all  things  «hatso- 


COMMON  LIFE 


COMMON  LIFE 


349 


ever  I  liave  commanded  you.'  The  process  begun 
before,  must  lie  continued  after  Baptism.  Admis- 
sion into  tlie  Cliurcli — whether  visible  or  invisible 
— is  only  the  beginning  of  Christian  discipleship. 
Eternity  cannot  complete  the  process  of  learning 
what  has  to  be  known  of  an  inlinite  (iod,  and  the 
relation  of  His  creatures  U>  lliui.  It  is  part  of  the 
pastoral  duty  of  the  Christi.aii  ministry  to  inculcate 
the  truth  as  it  is  in  .Jesus,  that  every  incmher  may 
be  built  up  into  the  full  manliood  of  the  Author 
and  Finisher  of  our  faith.  The  subject-matter  of 
teaching  is  the  doctrines  and  precepts  of  Christ, 
which  lie  at  the  root  of  Christian  faith  and 
Christian  practice.  On  all  the  members  of  His 
Church  it  is  incumbent  to  be  diligent  scholars  in 
the  school  of  Christ,  learning  obedience  to  His 
commandments  from  those  appointed  as  teachers. 
On  some  of  these  learners  the  additional  duty  rests 
of  being  official  expounders  of  His  law— teachers  in 
their  turn — devoting  their  lives,  as  the  Apostles 
did,  to  edify  the  body  of  Christ. 

The  place  assigned  to  Word  and  Sacrament  in 
the  spiritual  perspective  of  this  Commission  is 
well  worthy  of  notice.  It  portrays  the  minister 
of  the  gospel  in  the  character  of  a  teaching  prophet 
rather  than  in  that  of  a  sacrificing  priest.  The 
ministry  is  first  a  ministry  of  the  Word,  and  then 
of  the  Sacraments.  Thus  Baptism— the  Sacra- 
ment of  regeneration— is  closely  associated  with 
preaching  and  teaching  ;  while  the  Lord's  Supper — 
the  Sacrament  of  sanctitication — is  not  directly 
mentioned,  although  included  among  the  '  ail 
things  whatsoever  I  have  commanded  you.'  The 
Word  must  not  be  exalted  at  the  expense  of  the 
Sacraments,  nor  the  Sacraments  at  the  expense  of 
the  Word.  When  each  is  assigned  its  true  place 
as  a  means  of  grace,  the  work  of  evangelizing  and 
edifying,  committed  to  His  Church  by  Christ,  will 
most  surely  prosper. 


statement  of  the  views  of  llm^^  ■ 
of  the  Commission,  see  Harii.i'  1.,  I 
simi  of  Christianity,  i.  Jijtf.  l'-..r 
Eesch  and  Marshall  in  Exp'is.  Time. 


by  Chase  and  Arniitasje  Robin 

COMMON  LIFE The  teacliingot  our  Lord  upon 

this  subject  is  no  more  restricted  and  delinite  than 
it  is  upon  any  other  of  life's  relations.  It  was 
never  His  purpose  to  draw  uji  anything  like  a 
code  of  laws  for  the  icLiiil.it  imi  of  human  life. 
Indeed,  it  is  just  this  iihlriniiwii.  ->,  tliis  liberty, 
this  leaving  all  detail  lu  ilir  >|.miIuii,1  guidance 
which  He  pronused,  that  lias  iiia.lr  the  religion  of 
Jesus  so  far  transcend  every  other  religion  that 
hap  been  given  to  men.  Christ  left  His  teaching 
unrestricted,  that  by  its  inner  and  spiritual  power 
it  might  be  able  to  adapt  itself  to  the  ever-changing 
needs  and  thoughts  of  men.  That  doctrin.-  whidi 
makes  itself  particular,  which  binds  itself  u).  ^ith 
the  peculiar  circumstances  of  a  definite  pc<.i.lc,  a 
definite  clime,  a  definite  era,  must  of  necessity 
pass  away  with  those  circumstances  to  wliich  i't 
specially  applied.  Our  Lord,  in  that  He  laid  down 
principles,  not  rules,  has  gi\en  us  that  which 
will  apply  to  all  peojiles  and  <limes  and  eras. 
Christianity  is  the  universal  faith,  because  it  is 
founded  upon  the  universal  needs  of  the  human 
heart  (Jn  8^i-  ==  141=.  is). 

It  is,  of  course,  true  that  Cliristianity  is  particular 
to  this  extent,  that  its  Founder  faces  .and  combats 
those  particul.ar  evils  which  chanced  to  be  most 
lu-evalent  at  the  time  when  He  lived  on  earth. 
Had  renunciation  of  the  world  in  the  monastic 
sense  been  as  widespread  as  it  became  two  centuries 
after  His  death,  we  should  certainly  have  had 
more  definite   teaching   upon   our    .subject.     But 


it  was  Pharisaism  that  He  had  to  oppose,  not 
asceticism.  There  were,  indeed,  the  Essenes  at  the 
time  of  Christ,  but  that  community  was  never  a 
large  one,  nor  were  their  tenets  so  opposed  to 
the  truths  He  taught  as  to  demand  His  special 
attention.  The  Baptist,  it  is  true,  was  an  ascetic 
(Mt  3^11  Mk  F,  Mt  ll'«||  Lk  T'") ;  but  we  never  find 
liim  commanding  others  to  lead  his  life.  John 
preached  repentance,  but  a  repentance  that  did 
not  entail  renunciation  of  the  world.  Even  the 
publicans  and  the  rough  soldiery  of  Herod,  when 
they  came  seeking  his  advice,  were  not  required 
to  give  up  professions  so  fraught  with  temptation. 
All  that  lie  asked  of  them  was  that  they  should 
perform  the  duties  of  flieir  callings  honestly  and 
honourably  (Lk  ;i"'").  It  was  therefore  in  opposi- 
tion to  the  ritualism  of  the  Pharisees  alone  that 
Christ  had  to  develop  His  teaching  as  to  common 
life.  Purity  and  holiness  in  the  eyes  of  the 
Pharisees  were  matters  of  ceremonial  observance 


far  more  than  of  lieari 
extent  had  they  el.-iiidr; 
it  was  no  longer  [mssi 
the  toiler  to  attain  to 
they  had  rendered  po 
and  the  leisured  couM  v 
ness.  It  is  for  this  lea 
find  our  Lord  in  streni 
ternalism.     It  is  ever 


d  lif,. 


\l.,s 


1  to  such  an 
!•  ritual,  that 
I" "11  man  and 
the  sense  which 
l.v    the   wealthy 

■  lelle  liullteOUS- 

■  -u  (iintinually 
tiiiM  lo  all  ex- 
n  of  heart  and 


life,  not  that  of  ceremonial,  tliat  He  demands  of 
His  followers.  Consider,  for  example.  His  fulfilling 
of  the  Law  in  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount.  Through- 
out it  is  the  Law's  moral  requirements  that  He 
treats  of ;  and  the  discourse  is  prefaced  by  the 
assertion  that  the  righteousness  of  the  new'  king- 
dom must  start  by  exceecliiii;  that  of  the  scribes 
and  I'h.iiisees  (Ml  .'"1-").  He  --in'.iks  of  lea.st  com- 
maii.liiients.  the  breaking  '>f  "  hifh  iloes  not  exclude 
from  the  kiimdnin  (v.'*');  aiel  »hieh  He  accounts 
the-  urratei-  ;,,..l  ^^W^v\^  I  he  h'~,  IS  manifested  by 
Ills  saving  -•  I'li-t  1h.  iee.,iHil,.|  I,,  II, y  brother, 
and   then  e(aiie  anil  (illiT  lh\  ;jitl  ■  n,'!.     From  a 

Sahl.alh,  subordinating  all  external  and  eeremonial 
rei|uirenients  to  those  spiritual  commands  of  love 
lo  (hill  and  to  our  neighbour  which  He  made  all- 
important  (_Mk  2-»-28,  Lk  6'-'=  13'"-'').  In  regard 
to  the  question  of  washing  the  hands  before  eating, 
He  comes  into  open  conflict  with  the  Pharisees, 
upbraiding  their  hypocrisy,  and  contending  that 
defilement  comes  not  from  external  things,  but 
from  within  the  heart  (Mt  15'--»,  Mk  7'"=^). 

All  this  tends  towards  the  placing  of  a  higher 
value  upon  common  life.  He  is  thus  clearing  the 
way  for  the  reception  of  the  thought  that  God 
maybe  as  truly  served  in  the  round  of  daily  life 
and  toil  as  in  those  observances  (list  imtively  called 
religious.  We  have  the  Imlilest  assert ion'of  this 
truth  in  the  jiarable  of  the  Pharisee  and  the 
Publican  (Lk  Is'''-'),  wherein  He  points  out  that 
the  st liefest  -nay,  the  supererogatory — perform- 
ance of  ritual  cannot  win  justification  "in  the  sight 
of  (hill,  while  simple  repentance,  utterly  without 
these  (hin.Lis.  is  assured  of  pardon  and  peace.  We 
are  nut  tuhl  whether  the  repentance  of  this  publi- 
can entailed  the  giving  up  of  his  profession;  but 
in  the  case  of  /acclianis  there  is  evidence  that  it 
did  not  (Lk  lO'-'").  Apparently,  then,  in  the  eyes 
of  our  Lord,  even  this,  the  most  despised  of  callings, 
could  be  followed  by  a  member  of  the  kingdom. 
Levi,  it  is  true,  is.is' called  to  leave  all  and  follow 
(Lk  5-"-) ;  hut  his  la-e  we  must  regard  as  an 
exception,  lie  shewed  a  special  aptitude,  and  was 
called  toas|.erial  oHne. 

Put  it  is  rat  la  T  (he  whole  tendency  of  the  teach- 
ing anil  e\aiii|ih'  oi  .le-ii-,  than  any  explicit  state- 
ment, thai  in  (  Ini-I  iiiiily  assigns  to  common  life 
a  dignity   which  it   reeei\es  in  no  other  religion. 


350 


COMMON  LIFE 


COMMON  LIFE 


That  CJiristianity  so  early  developed  monkish 
asceticism  cannot  be  adduced  as  an  argument 
against  Christ's  teaching.  The  life  of  Jesus  is 
throughout  a  clear  admission  of  the  value  of  that 
probation  which  God  the  Father  and  Creator  has 
allotted  to  mankind.  Jesus  as  the  universal  Man, 
the  Example  for  all  the  world,  assumed  for  Him- 
self the  most  universal  experience.  For  thirty 
years  He  lived  the  common  life  of  a  labouring 
man,  working  like  any  one  of  His  brethren  in  tlie 
carpenter's  shop  at  Nazareth.  We  have  Him 
described  as  a  carpenter,  as  one  well  known  to  His 
fellow-townsmen,  as  one  but  little  distinguished 
from  His  brothers  and  sisters  (Mt  13=«'-,  Mk  6^). 
Commonplace  daily  toil  and  family  intercourse, 
and  that  throughout  a  period  of  thirty  years,  were 
thus  the  training  Avhich  the  Heavenly  Father  ac- 
counted the  best  for  His  Son  who  was  to  be  the 
Saviour  of  the  world.  In  this  lowly  spliere  the  Son 
of  God  grew  '  in  wisdom  and  stature,  and  in  favour 
with  God  and  man'  (Lk  2^*-).  Than  tliis  tliere 
could  be  no  stronger  argument  for  the  value  and 
the  nobleness  of  common  life  in  tlie  eyes  of  the 
Father  and  the  Son.  It  is  impossible  to  conceive 
that  He  who  thus  lionoured  the  common  lot  could 
desire  any  renunciation  of  it  on  the  part  of  those 
wlio  wished  to  be  His  followers.  Tliose  wlio  were 
called  to  be  His  missionaries  must  of  necessity 
give  up  all  to  do  a  higher  work,  but  not  to  attain 
a  higher  life.  It  is  to  be  noted  tliat  when  for  a 
time  that  work  is  in  abeyance.  His  chief  disciples 
return  to  their  old  calling  (Jn  2P). 

The  whole  attitude  of  Jesus  towards  the  world 
of  nature  and  of  man  is  in  accordance  with  His 
claim  to  be  the  Son  of  the  Creator.  He  clearly 
recognized  the  wisdom  and  the  beauty  and  the 
love  that  shine  forth  in  Creation  and  Providence. 
The  lilies  of  the  field  and  the  fowls  of  the  air,  the 
sunshine  and  the  rain,  are  used  by  Him  as  evi- 
dences of  the  goodness  of  the  Father.  His  teach- 
ing is  bound  up  in  closest  harmony  with  the 
things  of  earth  and  time.  For  Him  the  family 
ties  are  types  of  Heaven.  His  kingdom  is  far  more 
a  family  than  a  nation.  The  names  of  father, 
motlier,"  brother,  sister,  wife,  are  ennobled  by  His 
use  of  them.  From  all  the  callings  of  men  He 
draws  images  of  Divine  things.  The  physician, 
the  sower,  the  reaper,  tlie  fisherman,  the  vine- 
dresser, the  shepherd,  the  king  at  war,  the  house- 
wife at  her  bakinn;,  the  connnonest  incidents  of 
daily  life,  the  simplest  phenomena  of  nature,— all 
liave  a  place  in  His  doctrine  ;  all  are  used  to 
illustrate  the  character  and  development  of  His 
kingdom.  He  did  not,  it  is  true,  enlarge  upon 
tlie  relations  of  life.  That  was  not  His  mission. 
His  reformation  was  to  proceed  from  within,  not 
from  without.  But  everywhere  tiiere  is  the  mani- 
fest acceptance  of  the  order,  alike  social  and 
natural,  which  (ioil  lias  ordained.  Even  the  civil 
order,  with  which  He  came  into  contact  in  no  ideal 
form  in  the  Roman  domination,  receives  His 
sanction.  '  Render  unto  Ctt'sar,'  He  says,  '  the 
things  which  are  Ctesar's ;  and  unto  God  the 
things  that  are  God's'  (Mt  22"s-=,  Mk  12"-",  Lk 
20^"-°).  There  is  duty  to  God  and  duty  to  civil 
order,  and  these  must  not  conflict  in  religion's 
name :  the  former  should  include  the  latter. 
Marriage  is  recognized  by  Him  as  a  holy  tie,  an 
indissoluble  Divine  institution,  and  thus  obtains  a 
position  more  honourable  than  it  had  ever  held 
before  (Mt  19'-»,  Mk  lO^"").  His  presence  and 
first  miracle  at  the  wedding  at  Cana  of  Galilee 
(Jn  2'-")— 11  mira<:le  which  shows  His  deep  sym- 
pathy with  even  trivial  human  needs— is  in  it'splf 
a  consecr.ation  of  marriage.  Th.at  e|ii?oilc  ^iriKi 
the  keynote  of  His  life, — a  life  lived  :uiiiil  Hi- 
fellows,  sharing  their  joys  and  sorrows,  their  irr.i\> 
and  temptations,  their  feastings  and  their  iiiourii- 


ings.  The  Son  of  man  came  eating  and  drinking, 
with  no  ascetic  gloom  ;  came  to  live  in,  and  thus 
to  sanctify,  the  whole  round  of  common  life. 

Yet  in  the  view  of  our  Lord  all  these  things  had 
but  a  transitory  value.  They  were  but  means  to 
something  higher.  They  were  the  temporal  and 
seen,  from  wliich  the  unseen  and  eternal  was  to 
l)e  extracted.  In  so  far,  then,  as  they  conflicted 
witli  that  higher  good,  that  eternal  treasure, 
( 'lirist  demanded  renunciation  in  regard  to  them. 
His  treatment  of  tlie  young  ruler  (Mt  ig'"-'-,  Mk 
10''-^,  Lk  18'«--'')  illustrates  well  this  attitude. 
Wealth  is  not  in  itself  an  evil,  but  it  is  a  great 
danger,  and  in  certain  cases  it  may  destroy  the 
life  of  the  soul.  For  some,  therefore,  it  is  wiser 
and  safer  to  discard  it.  It  has  an  engrossing  power 
tliat  deprives  the  soul  of  its  proper  nourishment 
(cf.  the  parable  of  the  Rich  Fool,  Lk  12"'-2').  It 
tends  to  harden  the  heart  against  compassion  and 
charity,  to  make  the  man  self-sufficient,  to  give  a 
physical  delight  so  great  as  to  close  the  eyes  to 
tliat  which  is  spiritual  (cf.  the  parable  of  the  Rich 
Man  and  Lazarus,  Lk  16"""^").  But  there  are  other 
blessings  far  more  innocent  that  possess  a  like 
danger.  Things  as  precious  and  as  natural  as  the 
hand  and  eye  and  foot  may  yet  lead  to  sin  and 
obstruct  the  passage  to  the  higher  life  (Mt  5™'-, 
Mk  9^-''*).  In  such  cases,  too,  these  must  be 
renounced.  Even  the  family  ties,  if  they  become 
so  binding  as  to  come  between  the  soul  and  its 
true  weal— the  service  of  God  in  Christ— must  be 
broken  ;  for  the  kingdom  of  God  is  the  one  aim 
and  purpose  of  the  spiritual  man,  and  nought 
must  be  permitted  to  interfere  therewith  (Mt  10" 
II  Lk  14=^  Mt  6*").  Even  life  itself  must  be  laid 
down  for  the  sake  of  Christ  (Mt  W^,  Lk  17",  Jn 
12=5). 

Christ's  teaching  as  to  worldly  good  is  par- 
ticularly revealed  in  the  parable  of  the  Unjust 
Steward  (Lk  16''=).  There  He  calls  the  command 
of  wealth  and  natural  advantage  by  the  name  of 
'  the  unrighteous  mammon,'  thus  pointin"  to  its 
seductive  power  and  contrasting  it  with  tne  true 
spiritual  good.  He  calls  it  also  '  that  which  is 
another  man's '  in  distinction  to  '  that  which  is 
your  own. '  Of  earthly  good  we  are  but  the  stewards. 
Wealth  is  never  reaSly  our  own.  We  may  use  it 
or  abuse  it,  but  sooner  or  later  we  must  resign  its 
control.  The  spiritual  gifts  of  God  are  of  a  nature 
totally  different.  They  become  truly  ours,  a  part 
of  our  true  self.  Yet  the  unrighteous  mammon 
can  be  so  employed  as  to  win  us  spiritual  ad- 
vantage. By  its  means  we  can  make  us  friends 
who  will  receive  us  into  everlasting  habitations. 
As  the  unjust  steward  employed  liis  power  to 
his  own  worldly  advantage,  so  must  we  with  the 
wisdom  of  light  use  to  our  highest  advantage 
the  worldly  power  which  is  ours  which  is  always 
one  with  the  service  of  God. 

There  is  a  remarkable  passage  in  Mk  10^'-  (cf. 
Mt  19»  and  Lk  IS^*),  which  promises  that  earthly 
loss  suffered  for  Christ's  sake  and  the  gospel  s 
shall  receive  an  hundredfold  reward  '  now  in  this 
time '  in  the  .same  kind  in  which  the  loss  was 
suttered.  That  the  Christian  in  his  profession  and 
practice  of  love  to  all  men  must  have  the  familjr 
ties  strengthened  and  extended  an  hundredfold,  is 
readily  to  be  understood  ;  but  the  promise  of  lands 
is  not  so  simple.  To  the  mind  of  the  present 
writer  it  suggests  the  great  truth,  which  Christ's 
own  life  exemplified,  that  only  the  child  of  God  is 
capable  of  the  pure  and  perfect  enjoyment  of  all 
that  God  has  made.  Only  to  the  eyes  of  him 
whnse  he.irt  is  lillcl  with  tlip  Fnthpr's  love,  is  all 
t\H-  1.1'ant.v  of  II,.-  Cu'^itiir-^  M.,rK  displayed.  As 
on.'  wiih  ilic  l';iiliri  I  luuiiijli  (  111  1  I .  as  sharing  the 
IMiipi.-cs  of  (;...!.  .■!>  Iiilmldiii;.;  tiir  Hivine  plan  and 
subiiiitlin"  tu  and  workiii"    lor  it,   the  Christian 


C0M]\rUN10N 


COMMUNION 


351 


possesses  tlie  world  in  a  sense  in  which  no  other 
can.  It  is  his  to  rejoice  in  and  to  use  for  God's 
glory.     (Cf.  Expositor  1st  ser.  iv.  [1876]  256  ft'.). 

To  sum  up  the  whole,  we  may  say  that  there  are 
two  great  ideas  which  underlie  all  Christ's  teacli- 
ing : — (1)  The  inestimable  value  of  the  liuinan 
soul  (Mt  16=«,  Mk  S^<-,  hk  9-5),  to  the  salvatiuii  of 
which  all  must  be  subordinated,  for  the  saki>  of 
which  all  things,  if  necessary,  must  be  renounced  : 
the  Gospel,  therefore,  whicii  gives  this  salvation 
is  all -important,  and  its  service  must  have  no 
rival ;  and  (2)  the  recognition  of  common  life  and 
daily  toil,  with  all  that  these  terms  include,  as  the 
ordinances  of  a  loving  Father  by  whose  Providence 
they  are  designed  to  be  the  chiefest  elements  in 
fitting  men  for  citizenship  in  the  Kingdom  of 
Heaven.  He  who  uses  well  the  talents  which 
God  gives,  in  the  sphere  in  which  his  lot  is  cast, 
who  is  faithful  in  a  little,  shall  have  his  reward 
hereafter  in  the  obtaining  of  a  larger  sphere 
wherein  to  exercise  for  God's  glory  tliose   very 

Dualities,  purified  and  ennobled,  which  his  eartlily 
iligence  has  made  his  own  (Mt  2.5""",  Lk  19"-'). 
Work  that  is  the  expression  of  love  to  God  and 
man  is  always  noble  ;  and  there  is  no  work  on 
earth  that  may  not  be  performed  to  God's  glory. 


"ryi;:s^;. 


S.  :Milleu. 


COHHUNION.— It  is  surprisinj,'  tliat  neither  the 
substantive  {Kotvoifia)  nor  the  verb  (Kotpui'dii),  wliich 
represent  the  concept  of  '  communion  '  in  NT,  is  to 
be  found  in  any  of  our  four  Gos])els.  It  would, 
however,  be  unsafe,  and  indeed  untrue  to  fact,  to 
as.sume  on  this  account  that  the  idea  of  communion 
is  wanting.  Wliile  there  is  an  absence  of  thewor.U 
concerned,  there  is  no  absence  of  the  conce]itiiiii 
itself.  A  careful  study  of  the  Gospels,  on  the  (•(ui 
trary,  not  only  reveals  a  plain  recognition  of  tliU 
vital  a.spect  of  the  religious  life,  but  also  (ami 
especially  in  the  records  of  our  Lord's  teaching 
preserved  by  St.  John)  presents  tlie  conception 
to  us  with  a  certain  clear,  if  unobtrusi^'e,  pro- 
minence. 

The  subject  contains  three  distinct  parts,  which 
will  naturally  be  considered  separately:  (1)  The 
communion  of  Christ  with  the  Father;  (2)  our 
communion  with  God  ;  (3)  our  communion  one  with 
another. 

1.  The  rommunion  of  Christ  with  the  Father. — 
The  more  conspicuous  aspect  of  our  Lord's  com- 
inunion  with  the  Father  as  reflected  in  the  Gospels, 
is  that  which  characterized  His  earthly  ministry. 
But  it  is  not  the  only  aspect  presented.  Christ 
Himself  clearly  claimed  to  have  enjoyed  pre- 
existent  communion  with  His  Father  (Jn  17=-^), 
and  the  Prologue  of  the  Fourth  Gospel  in  three  or 
four  weighty  clauses  conliiius  the  claim.  This  pre- 
existent  communion  included  both  unity  of  essence 
and  life,  and  fellowship  in  work,  (a)  The  Word 
was  irpis  t6v  0i6v  (,Tn  1'),  realizing  His  very  person- 
ality '  in  active  intercourse  with  and  in  perfect 
communion  with  God'  (Westcott,  in.  loe.).  His 
nature  was  the  nature  of  Deity  (Kal  ffeis  fii>  6  Xii7os, 
ib.).  His  Sonship  is  unique' (v.":  and  for  the 
uniqueness  of  tlie  rchitionsliip  cf.  tin-  imiinrtant 
Synoptic  pass,ni;r,   Mi    i  r-^     |.|,    iii\      l|,     i,  the 

irXlipUjllO— the  sum   nl     l  lie    I  >1mi|c    ;i  l  h  llm  l  .■      i. Ill    111', 

cf.  Col  119  2':  Ki.li  I  ,,  .-ulI  II.'  I-  w, „.„-,.-,,■  "...V  (.In 
l'8)-'0neWhois(„„l  (mly-benoltcM  (WVsU-ott). 
(b)  'The  pre-existent  communion  not  merely  coii- 
•sisted  in  identity  of  essence,  but  was  also  expressed 
by  fellow.ship  in  work.     The  Word  was  the  Agent 


in  the  \\ork  of  Creation  (Jn  P-  ",  cf.  also  1  Co  8'^, 
Col  1"" :  His  work  in  sustaining  the  Universe  so 
created  is  taught  in  Col  1",  He  P).  See  art. 
Creator. 

Our  Lord's  realization  of  His  Father's  presence 
(luring  His  life  upon  earth  was  constant.  That  He 
Himself  laid  claim  to  such  fellowship  is  beyond 
(■(intention.  He  did  so  directly  in  His  words  (Mt 
ll-'  =  Lk  10=^  Jn  12-"'-"'  us-'""  1628.32)^  empha- 
sizing especially  His  unity  with  the  Father  (Jn 
1030-38  i2«  ]47,i.,  ,,,,,1  ,K.,-epting  with  approval  the 
title  of  'God'  (.111  L'l.P-  ■-»).  He  did  so  even  more 
impressively,  if  less  directly,  by  assuming  His 
Father's  functions  in  the  world  (Mk  25'  =  Mt  9=-  =  = 
Lk  5-°-  -1  T'"*)  and  representing  Himself  as  con- 
trolling Divine  forces  and  originating  Divine 
missions  (Mt  11-"",  Jn  15="  20--'=").  Moreover,  any 
attempt  to  explain  away  that  intimate  knowledge 
of  God  which  the  Gospels  consistently  ascribe  to 
Him,  is  compelled  to  disregard  not  merely  the 
pass.ages  in  wliich  His  own  words  and  actions  dis- 
tinctly assiiiii,.  it.  Inil  also  ii„t  a  IVw  in  which, 
whether  Willi  n|,|.n.v.il   oi-  with  (lisai,|.i.,val,  others 

recognize  tli.-it  lie  elai I   to  p,,ss(.ss  it  (Jn  5'»  Vfi^ 

13^  19',  cf.  also  17'-^).     Sr..  Claims  (if  Chrlst. 

But  apart  altogcthci  from  Ills  s]iccific  claim  to 
the  enjoyment  of  this  Dixim.  fillowship,  we  have 
abundant  evidence  of  its  ixislcn.i!  in  His  earthly 

life  itsolf.     Thosi'iisiMifc miiiiioii  was  an  integral 

l-n  ..filial  lit..,     II  isoii,.  ,.ni,„s,.  WmnrntsinHis 

l"i-'iK'l'ly  lli^it   -■oul.l   m.t   I limiiial,..!   from  it. 

ACIin-(  iiii.'..i.s.. i,,i,s.,fi,it,.|v..uis..M  ill,  (;o,l  would 
iKit  I...  111..  Cliiisi  oi  till.  (;os|.cls.  It  was  this  sense 
of  (•ommiiiiioii  iliai  m..ni.l..il  1 1  is  lirst  recorded  con- 
cepli..ii  ..f  .Inly  (l,k  ■_'",  AV  oi  l!V).  The  thirty 
years  ol  .|iiiii  |ii.'|iaiatioii  for  allircc  years' minis- 
try   (Ih..    |.r..|.orlioiis    ar..    sii.l,,i„.s(  i, ,.' :    for   other 


Ills 


His, 


niiii; 


:Lk 


.hmaiksHis 
li.  Ii  must  so 
|,ie|,aration 
loi  t  amid  the 
<  itself.  It  is  present  in  a  special 
ptism  which  signalized  the  begin- 
istiy  ani,mg  men  (Mk  l>»-"  =  Mt 
It  is  His  .stay  alike  before  the 
labours  of  the  day  liet^iii  (Mk  P''),  at  the  very 
moment  of  service  (Mk  V>"  dm^Xi^as  ei's  t6i/  oipavbv  ; 
cf.  also  7''''  8-^,  .In  (i"  IP'),  an,l  when  refreshment  of 
soul  is  „e,.,l,..l  al  111,.  ,.|ose  of  tlie  long  h.mrs  of  toil 
(MUlV^     Ml  l-l^',  l.k.l"').    Tlie(;os|,els,in,le,",l,niake 

ditioii  on  wliii-li  III,.  a(c,)iiiplislii,„.nt  of  certain' work 
depended  (Mk  9-»,  cf.  Jn  5™),  and  we  cannot  fail  to 
observe  the  frequency  with  whicli  both  He  and  His 
biographers  insist  that  the  Divine  Presence  is  with 
Him  in  all  His  words  and  Morks  (Lk  4'''- '»,  Jn  3*" 
5111-21.36  yic.26.  ai)_  go  constant  is  the  communion, 
that  even  the  most  familiar  objects  of  Nature  con- 
vey to  Him  suggestions  of  the  Father  in  heaven 
(Mt  6*-=').  It  is  noteworthy  that  retirement  for 
intimate  converse  with  unseen  realities  is  especially 
recorded  as  preceding  Christ's  action  or  speech  at 
certain  great  crises  in  the  development  of  His  life- 
mission  (Luke  is  ,,:,,ti,.i,l:irlv  careful  to  draw  atten- 
tion to  this  :  .  .■  :i  '  i;'  '  ;i'«-  -'sf-  22-'i  23^;  cf.  also 
Mk  9=,  Jn  ]_'     I  ;  '(.at  intercession  for  indi- 

vidual men  lia.l  ii  1.1...  .  Ill  this  sacred  experience 
(Lk22^i-»=,  cf.  ■S.V\  Jn  IT"-"). 

Thus  constantly,  alike  at  critical  junctures  and 
in  more  normal  moments,  did  the  sense  of  His 
Father's  presence  uphold  Him.  In  one  mysterious 
moment,  the  full  meaiiiii'^  of  wlii.h  baffles  human 
explanation,  II  is  .•..n-i  i.niMi.'  -  ..i  ii  appears  to  have 
wavere.l  (.Mk  l.'i^)  ;  v  I  ,.\.  ii  il.i  .  ly  of  desolation 
must  not   he   consi,l,.i,..l    apail    li,i'i,i   the  certain 


352 


COMMUNION 


COMMUNION 


restoration  of  the  communion  revealed  in  the  calm 
confidence  of  the  last  word  of  all  (Lk  23^'^).  See 
art.  Dereliction. 

One  further  point  may  be  briefly  suggested.  Our 
Lord's  communion  with  the  Father  was  not  incon- 
sistent with  His  endurance  of  temptation.  Nay, 
it  was  under  the  strong  impulse  of  that  Spirit 
whose  presence  with  Him  was  at  once  the  si^n  and 
the  expression  of  His  union  with  God  (see  Mk  1'"), 
that  He  submitted  to  the  a.ssaults  of  evil  (Mk  !'-•  ", 
note  ^/fjSdXXei,  =  Mt  4'  =  Lk  4').  The  protracted 
testing  (^v  ireipati/iei/o!,  analytical  tense,  ef.  the 
suggestion  of  other  occasions  of  temptation  in  the 
plur.  ev  ToTs  Treipaaiioh  fiov,  Lk  22^,  ana  Jn  12^),  suc- 
cessfully endured,  itself  became  to  our  Lord  tlie 
means  of  a  fresh  assurance  and  (perhaps  we  may 
add)  a  fuller  realization  of  fellowship  with  the 
spii-itual  world  (Mk  1'^  divK6voup—impi.].  In  this 
respect,  as  in  others  also,  His  life  of  communion, 
while  in  one  sense  unique  (Lk  10--),  is  seen  to  be 
the  exemplar  of  our  oanti. 

2.  Our  communion  with  God. — The  reality  of  the 
believer's  communion  with  God  is  plainlj'  revealed 
in  the  teaching  of  the  Gospels.  This  communion 
is  presented  sometimes  in  terms  of  a  relationship 
■with  the  Father,  sometimes  in  terms  of  a  relation- 
ship with  the  Son,  sometimes  in  terms  of  a  rela- 
tionship with  the  Spirit;  but  all  three  presentations 
alike  are  relevant  to  our  study  (1  Jn  2^'',  cf.  V,  Jn 
J416. 17)  »  jf  our  outline  is  to  be  at  once  clear  and 
comprehensive,  we  must  treat  the  passages  con- 
cerned under  two  headings.  The  hrst  («)  will  in- 
clude those  that  deal  with  the  state  of  communion 
witli  Goil  into  which  a  man  is  brought  when  he 
becomes  the  servant  of  God  ;  the  .second  {b)  those 
that  relate  to  the  life  of  conscious  communion 
with  God  which  it  is  his  privilege  to  live  from  that 
time  forward.  The  distinction,  as  will  shortly 
appear,  is  by  no  means  an  unnecessary  one,  the 
second  experience  being  at  once  more  vivid  and 
more  profound  than  the  first  need  necessarily  be. 

(«)  It  is  clear  that  in  the  case  of  every  believer 
the  barrier  raised  between  himself  and  God  by  his 
sin  has  been  broken  down.  In  other  words,  he 
has  been  restored  to  a  state  of  communion  with 
God.  The  means  by  Avliich  this  state  is  brought 
.ib(i\it  h,^^■c  l«)th  a  Divine  and  a  human  signili- 
I  aiir.  .  It  i>  in  considering  their  Divine  aspect  that 
wi;  11,11  h  the  point  of  closest  connexion  between 
the  rniiiiiniiiion  of  believers  with  God  and  the  com- 
miini.iii  ot  ( 'liiM  with  His  Father.  For  these  in  a 
true  >.  ii-i'  -tin  I  to  one  another  in  the  relation  of 

t     ■JU.l    r;iu~..    irf.   Avha 

Lords  perfect  fellowship  with  God  that  through 
His  life  and  death  we  too  can  gain  unrestricted 
admission  to  the  Divine  Presence.  This  truth  is 
all-important.  It  needs  no  detailed  proof.  The 
whole  story  of  the  Incarnation  and  of  the  Cross  is  one 
long  exposition  of  it.  Perhaps  it  is  .symbolically 
represented  in  Mk  15^.  The  conditions  required 
on  the  human  side  for  restoration  to  the  state  of 
(•ommunion  with  God  appear  plainly  in  our  Lord's 
teaching.  This  state  is  descril>ed  in  varied  language 
and  under  dirterent  metaphors.  Sometimes  it  is 
presented  as  citizenship  in  God's  kingdom  (Mk 
10""  ",  Jn  3") ;  sometimes  as  discipleship  (Lk  14-'', 
Jn  8").  friendship  (Jn  15"),  and  even  kinship  (Mk 
3J2-3S)  ^vith  Christ  Himself.  In  other  places  it  is 
spoken  of  as  a  personal  knowledge  of  Him  (1  Jn  2') ; 
in  others,  again,  as  a  following  in  His  footsteps  (ilk 
S«,  Jn  8'=) ;  and  in  yet  others  as  the  possession  of 
a  new  type  of  life  (Jn  3'*:  for  the  definition  of 
eternal  life  as  '  knowing  God '  see  Jn  17',  1  Jn  5-"). 
As  one  condition  of  finding  this  experience,  which, 
in  whatever  terms  it  be  described,  places  men  in  a 
,  that  for  purpc 


new  relationship  with  God,  Christ  mentions  child- 
likeness  of  disposition  (Mk  10'^).  As  other  condi- 
tions He  emphasizes  poverty  of  spirit  (Mt  5^  Lk 
18'-"'-),  and  the  performance  of  the  Divine  wU  in  a 
life  of  righteousness  and  love  (Mk  3^,  Lk  6^-*  8=', 
Jn  8-"  14'-",  cf.  1  Jn  l"  2^"^  3*).  In  one  vei-y  im- 
portant passage,  addressed  both  to  the  multitude 
and  to  His  own  band  of  disciples.  He  may  perhaps 
be  said  to  include  all  individual  conditions.  'If 
any  man  willeth  to  come  after  me,  let  him  re- 
nounce himself '  (Mk  8"  and  ||).  This  saying  has 
a  meaning  far  more  profound  than  that  suggested 
by  our  English  versions.  Taken  with  the  explana- 
tion contained  in  the  verse  that  follows,  it  really 
leads  us  to  the  basis  of  communion.  All  com- 
munion between  two  persons,  whether  human  and 
human  or  human  and  Divine,  is  possible  only  in 
virtue  of  some  element  common  to  the  natures  of 
both  (see  Jn  4-''  8" ;  cf.  the  same  principle  difi'er- 
ently  applied  in  5^).  Man's  sole  possibility  of 
communion  with  God  lies  in  his  possession,  poten- 
tial or  actual,  of  the  Divine  life  (cf.  Jn  1').  But 
joined  to  the  'self  (the  second  ^vxn  of  Mk  8^) 
which  is  capable  of  union  with  God,  he  is  conscious 
also  of  another  'self  (the  first  ypvxv  of  Mk  8^) 
which  is  incongruous  with  that  close  relationship 
to  Deity.  The  condition  of  realizing  the  one  '  self,' 
and  with  it,  in  natural  sequence,  communion  with 
God,  is  the  renunciation  of  the  other  and  lower 
'self.' 

So  both  vv.3-1  and  35 :  the  !«!jto.  of  Mk  &*  is  thus  equivalent 
to  the  first  ^ux''  of  8^  The  '  Ukinj;  up  his  cross'— i.e  for  his 
own  crucifixion  thereon— defines  the  '  renouncing  himself '  more 
closely.  The  teaching  of  the  whole  passajje  is  the  Evangelic 
representation  of  the  Pauline  doctrine  of  self-crucifixion,  cf. 
Gal  220  624. 

To  change  the  figure  somewhat,  the  unity  of  life 
involved  in  the  idea  of  communion  between  man 
and  God  can  be  attained  only  through  man's  rising 
to  God's  life.  This,  it  is  true,  would  have  been 
outside  his  power  had  not  God  first  stooped  to  his 
level.  But  in  the  Incarnation  this  step  of  infinite 
condescension  has  been  taken,  and  by  it  the  po 
bility  of  mankind's  rising  to  the  life  of  God- 


other  words,  the 
state  of  communiiin  \vith  c 
all  secured.  In  onli'i  td  n 
munion  his  own,  Clin^t  te 
man  must  now  leave  his  lo 


t^  entering  into  a 
.1(1  has  been  once  for 
ike  this  state  of  com- 
ches,  each  individual 
vei  life,  with  all  that 


pertains  to  it,  behind ;  must  be  content  to  '  re- 
nounce himself;  must  be  willing  to  'lose'  that 
'  life '  which  cannot  consist  with  the  Divine  life. 
So  complete,  indeed,  is  to  be  the  severance  from 
the  past,  that  the  experience  in  which  it  is  brought 
about  is  called  a  '  new  birth '  ( Jn  3^),  as  real  as, 
though  of  a  type  esseiitiiilly  ilitltncnt  from,  the 
physical  birth  (v.^).  When  \\  itli  this  self -renounce- 
luent  is  combined  that  faith  m  ('liii>t  which  leads 
to  union  with  Him  and  reliance  upon  Him  {Triareveiv 
eis—Jn  S'"-  *  &-■'  11-'^),  we  have  the  experience  which 
sums  up  into  one  great  whole  the  various  indi- 
vidual conditions  required  on  the  human  side  for 
entering  into  the  state  of  communion  with  God. 

(6)  Quite  distinct  in  thoui^ht  fnuii  tlie  state  oi 
communion  into  which  all  IhIh  \.>i-  jie  liniught,  is 
the  life  of  communion  whuh  ii  i-  then  privilege 
to  enjoy.  The  one  is  ah\;iy>  a  fact,  the  other 
is  also  a  consciously  realized  experience.  Like 
so  many  of  the  blessings  revealed  in  NT,  such  a 
life  of  communion  is  too  rich  an  e.xperience  to  be 
described  in  any  one  phrase  or  under  a  single  meta- 
phor. In  ditterent  contexts  it  is  presented  in  dif- 
ferent ways.  Sometimes,  for  example,  it  is  set 
forth  as  an  abiding  in  Clirist  who  also  abides  in 
the  believer  (Jn  IS*"-).  In  other  places  it  is  repre- 
sented as  an  indwelling  uf  the  Spirit  (Jn  U'^-^" 
Hi'  '■  '•,  I  Jn  -J-"-"  3-"  4'^),  whose  presence,  to  be- 
lievers (.-IS  in  a  deeper  .sense  to  their  Lord)  the  sign 
and  expression  of  union  with  God,  is  to  be  with 


COMMUNION 


COMMUNION 


353 


them  from  the  moment  of  their  initiation  into  the 
new  life  (Mk  1«  and  11  it,  1  Jn  3'-^  4").  Yet  another 
statement,  emphasizing  in  a  remarkable  metaphor 
the  inwardness  and  intimacy  of  the  union  that 
results,  sets  the  experience  before  us  as  a  mystical 
feedin"  upon  Christ  (Jn  6,  esp.  vv.^^-'^*,  cf.  also  v.^=). 
But  while  there  is  variation  in  the  language  in 
■which  this  sense  of  the  Divine  Presence  is  set  forth, 
there  is  no  question  as  to  the  reality  of  the  experi- 
ence itself.  It  is  the  inspiration  of  this  Unseen 
Presence  that  shall  give  to  believers  definite  guid- 
ance in  moments  of  crisis  and  perplexity  (Mk  13" 
and  II,  Lk  12"-  '^j.  It  is  in  this  communion  with 
God  that  they  will  find  their  surest  refuge  against 
fears  and  dangers  (Mk  13'*  =  Mt  24^°)  and  against 
the  assaults  of  temptation  (Mk  14^  and  ||).  Such 
fellowship,  too,  is  their  ground  of  certainty,  alike 
in  their  teaching  (Jn  3"— note  the  plurals ;  1  Jn 
I'-')  and  in  their  belief  (cf.  Jn  4^).  It  is,  moreover, 
the  source  of  all  their  fitness  for  service  (cf.  Gabriel's 
suggestive  speech,  Lk  1'^)  and  the  means  of  all  their 
fruit-bearing  (Jn  IS'"'").  As  would  have  been  ex- 
pected, the  full  significance  of  this  converse  with 
God  is  not  understood,  nor  is  its  closest  intimacy 
appropriated,  in  the  earliest  days  of  initiation. 
Knowledge  of  God,  like  knowledge  of  men,  has  to 
be  realized  progressively  (cf.  x'^P'-"  '^"'^^  X^P"""'!  Jn 
1'").  There  are  degrees  of  intimacy  (cf.  Jn  15'^  and 
the  suggestive  interchange  of  dyaTrS.i'  and  ipiXeiv  in 
21'^''-),  and  the  extent  to  which  the  believer  is  ad- 
mitted into  fellowship  is  proportionate  to  the  pro- 
gress he  has  made  in  the  lessons  previously  taught 
(cf.  the  significant  connexion  between  Mk  8^'  and 
g27-29^  whicn  is  clearly  brought  out  in  the  emphatic 
Kal  vp^aro  SiSd<rK(iv  of  v.^' :  cf.  also  Mk  4^^,  Jn  W% 
The  reason  for  this  basis  of  progress  is  plain.  An 
important  element  in  communion  being  self -adjust- 
ment to  God's  will  (cf.  our  Lord's  own  illustration 
of  this,  Mk  14**  and  |1),  the  degree  of  intimacy  that 
ensues  will  naturally  be  conditioned  by  the  extent 
to  which  this  element  is  rendered  prominent. 
Thus,  while  its  neglect  will  open  up  the  possibility 
of  lapsing  even  to  one  who  has  been  on  intimate 
terms  with  Christ  (Mk  14'*,  Jn  W),  its  constant 
and  progressive  practice  may  bring  a  man  to  a 
union  with  God  so  close  as  to  constitute  his  com- 
jdete  possession  by  Divine  influence  (cf.  the  Bap- 
tist's magnificent  description  of  himself  as  a  '  Voice,' 
Jn  123,  taken  from  Is  40^).  And  the  fellowship  so 
enjoyed  and  ever  more  intimately  realized  under 
the  restricted  conditions  of  earth,  is  to  find  its 
perfect  consummation  only  in  the  hereafter  (Jn 
1226 142.3  1724^  cf.  1  Jn  32).    See  art.  Abiding. 

The  means  by  which,  according  to  the  Gospel 
teaching,  the  believer  will  practise  this  life  of 
communion  with  God,  may  be  briefly  indicated. 
Prominent  among  them  is  seclusion  from  the  world 
for  the  purpose  of  definite  prayer.  The  import- 
ance of  this  our  Lord  emphasized  by  His  own  ex- 
ample. He  also  enjoined  it  upon  His  followers  by 
oft-repeated  precepts  (Mt  6^  7'-  *  26^'  and  ||,  Lk  ff-s 
18').  At  the  same  time  the  Evangelic  teaching  does 
not  aim  at  making  recluses.  There  are  active  as 
well  as  passive  means  of  enjoying  intercourse  with 
God,  and  our  Lord's  whole  training  of  the  Twelve 
indicates,  even  more  clearly  than  any  individual 
saying  (cf.  Jn  17"),  His  belief  in  the  Divine  com- 
munion that  is  found  in  the  service  of  mankind. 
The  sense  of  fellowship  with  God  vivified  in  secret 
devotion  is  to  be  realized  afresh  and  tested  in  con- 
tact with  men  (so  1  Jn  4«-  '=• '"). 

Two  more  points  call  for  separate  attention. 
(1)  Before  His  death  our  Lord  ordained  a  rite 
which  not  only  symbolizes  the  union  of  His  fol- 
lowers with  Himself,  but  is  also  a  means  of  its 
progressive  realization.  If  an  intimate  connexion 
between  the  Lord's  Supper  (Mk  U--<'-  and  II)  and  1 
the  Jewish  Passover  may,  as  seems  reasonable,  be  I 
VOL.  I.— 23 


assumed,  that  conception  of  the  Christian  rite 
whicli  represents  it  as  a  means  of  communion 
between  the  individual  soul  and  its  Saviour  would 
appear  to  have  a  basis  in  the  foundation  principle 
on  which  all  ancient  worship,  whether  Jewish  or 
heathen,  rests — the  belief  tliat  to  partake  of  a 
sacrifice  is  to  enter  into  some  kind  of  fellowship 
with  the  Deity.  This  aspect  of  the  Lord's  Supper 
does  not,  of  course,  exhaust  its  meaning  (see  art. 
Lord's  Supper),  but  it  is  certainly  prominent, 
and  it  is  emphasized  both  by  St.  Paul  (1  Co  10'") 
and  by  Christ  Himself  (Jn  6'''',  where  the  eating 
would  certainly  include  tliat  of  the  Lord's  Supper, 
even  though,  as  is  most  probable,  it  does  not  refer 
to  it  exclusively). 

(2)  One  more  suggestion  may  be  put  forward. 
Our  Lord  seems  to  hint  at  a  special  means  of  com- 
munion with  Himself  which  is  really  a  particular 
extension  of  the  self-renouncement  considered 
above.  This  is  a  mysterious  fellowship  with  Him 
in  His  own  suflerings  for  mankind  (Mk  1038-2«  =  Mt 
OQis.  23a  .  fQj.  a  symbolical  illustration  see  Mk  15-'). 
It  is  only  a  hint,  but  the  words  are  significant ; 
and,  taken  in  conjunction  with  St.  Paul's  dfrapa- 
TXitpd  TO,  V(TT€pri/j.aTa  tCiv  dXltpeoiv  tou  XpitrroD  if  rrj 
crapKi  /lov  (Col  P^),  and  his  purjiose  tov  ypwpai  .  .  . 
KQivoiviav  TraQfiiidrtav  avTOv  (Pli  3'"  ;  cf.  also  2  Co  1^ 
4'",  1  P  4'^),  would  certainly  seem  to  imply  that 
the  believer's  own  suflerings  for  Christ's  sake  may 
become  a  medium  through  which  he  may  enter 
into  close  communion  with  his  Lord. 

Even  this  brief  study  will  have  revealed  that 
the  Gospel  conception  of  the  Christian's  com- 
munion with  God  is  essentially  difl'eront  from  that 
of  the  Quietist.  Whether  we  have  regard  to  our 
Lord's  example  or  to  His  teaching,  whether  we 
are  thinking  of  the  status  of  fellowship  or  of  its 
conscious  practice,  the  means  by  which  the  Di\ine 
communion  is  realized  are  not  exclusively  periods 
of  secluded  contemplation.  In  Christ's  own  life 
upon  earth  the  two  elements  of  active  and  passive 
fellowship  are  signally  combined.  The  sense  of 
union  with  the  Unseen  Father,  fostered  in  lonely 
retreat,  is  also  intensified  in  moments  of  strenuous 
activity.  In  His  thoughts  for  the  lives  of  His 
followers,  too,  the  consciousness  of  God's  presence 
is  secured  not  alone  by  solitary  worship,  but  also 
by  the  doing  of  the  Divine  will,  by  the  earnest 
struggle  to  subdue  the  lower  self,  and  even  by 
active  participation  in  the  very  suflerings  of  Christ. 
So  the  servant,  as  his  Lord,  must  practise  the 
communion  of  service  as  well  as  the  communion 
of  retirement  (cf.,  again,  Jn  W'-).  The  desire  for 
the  permanent  consciousness  of  the  more  immediate 
Presence  must  be  sunk  in  the  mission  of  carrying 
to  others  the  tidings  of  salvation  (Mk  5'*'"-''  =  Lk 
S^-^\  It  is  but  natural  that  in  the  moment  of 
siiecial  revelation  on  the  mountain  the  disciple 
should  long  to  make  it  his  abiding  place  (Mk  O'^ 
and  II) ;  but  his  Master  can  never  forget  the  need 
of  service  on  the  ordinary  levels  of  life  (Mk  O'-""- 
and  II).  And  the  experience  of  the  one  is  the 
source  of  power  for  the  other  (Mk  9-',  cf.  Jn  15^). 

3.  Our  communion  one  with  another. — Just  as 
our  communion  with  God  was  seen  to  bear  a  close 
relation  to  our  Lord's  communion  with  the  Father, 
so  our  spiritual  fellowship  one  with  another  rests 
upon  the  fellowsliip  of  each  with  Christ.  As  we 
had  occasion  to  point  out  above,  communion  be- 
tween any  two  persons  is  possible  only  in  virtue  of 
some  element  common  to  the  natures  of  both. 
This  common  possession  in  the  case  of  believers  is 
the  life,  the  'self,'  whioli  is  called  into  being  and 
ever  progressively  realized  in  their  indtvidual 
communion  with  Christ.  The  possibility  of  our 
spiritual  fellowship  with  one  another  rests  ulti- 
mately upon  what  He  is  and  our  relationship  to 
what  He  is  (see  1  Jn  1''^,  and  especially  1' ;   cf. 


554 


COMMUNION 


CO]MPLACENCY 


also  1  Co  10"=- 1").  His  Presence  is  the  bond  of 
union  in  wliieli  we  are  one,  and  in  which  we 
realize  the  oneness  that  we  possess  (Mt  18-"). 
Indeed,  the  two  tj'pes  of  communion — the  com- 
munion with  God  and  the  communion  with  our 
fellow-believers— react  each  upon  the  other.  On 
the  one  hand,  as  we  have  just  seen,  our  communion 
with  men  rests  upon  our  communion  with  Christ ; 
on  the  other  hand,  our  Divine  fellowship  may  be 
intensified  (Mt  18™  again  and  25")  or  impeded  (Mt 
523.24  615  25«  Mk  11^)  by  our  relations  with  our 
fellow-men. 

That  our  Lord  looked  for  the  unity  of  His 
followers  is  not  open  to  question.  He  both 
prophesied  it  (Jn  10"*)  and  prayed  for  it  (IT'"'--'). 
An  intimate  friend,  clearly  one  of  an  inner  circle 
of  disciples  and  probably  John  himself,  understood 
its  attainment  to  be  part  of  His  purpose  in  dying 
for  mankind  (Jn  1P=).  Moreover,  it  is  natunll  to 
suppose  that  the  desire  to  ensure  it  would  con- 
tribute to  His  decision  to  found  an  organized 
society  (Mt  16'*)  and  to  institute  an  important 
rite  (Mk  14-^-  and  11)  for  those  who  should  believe 
in  Him.  The  unity  of  His  followers  was  even  to  be 
one  of  the  grounds  on  which  He  based  His  appeal 
for  the  world's  faith  (Jn  n-"").  Of  His  wish  for 
this  unity,  therefore,  there  can  scarcely  be  reason- 
able doubt.  But  when  we  ask  in  what  He  meant 
tlie  unity  to  consist,  agreement  is  not  so  easily 
reached.  The  expression  of  His  followers'  unity 
certainly  includes  kind  and  unselfish  relations  with 
one  another — mutual  honour  and  service  (Mk 
1035-«=Mt  20="-=«),  mutual  forgiveness  (Mt  6'^  Lk 
17'-*),  mutual  love  (Jn  13"  15'-).  It  is  exemplified 
further  by  participation  in  tlie  common  work  (Jn 
436-38)  Another  very  special  means  of  its  realiza- 
tion, the  Lord's  Supper,  we  have  already  indicated. 
Although  this  particular  aspect  of  the  rite  is  not 
actually  revealed  in  the  Gospel  narrative  itself,  it 
will  scarcely  be  questioned  that  one  of  the  great 
truths  which  it  both  signifies  and  secures,  is  that 
of  the  fellowship  of  Christ's  followers.  The  sacred 
service  in  whicn  the  believer  may  realize  com- 
munion with  His  Lord  (see  §  2  above),  is  also  a 
means  by  which  he  is  to  apprehend  his  oneness 
with  all  other  believers  (see  1  Co  10"). 

While,  however,  it  is  plain  that  in  Christ's 
teachin"  the  communion  of  Christians  is  at  once 
attested  and  secured  by  means  like  these,  it  is 
disputed  whether  He  designed  their  unity  to  be 
simply  a  spiritual  or  also  an  external  one.  Three 
important  passages  may  be  very  briefly  considered. 
(1)  Jn  10'^  artbrds  no  support  to  the  upholders  of 
an  external  unity.  Tlie  true  rendering  is  unques- 
tionablv,  'They  shall  become  one  flock'  {'RV:  rt 
Tindale  and  Coverdale),  and  not,  'There  sIkiII  )..■ 
onefold'  (AV;  cf.  Vulgate).  The  unity  meminiir,! 
here  is  one  that  is  realized  in  the  personal  rt-Lition 
of  each  member  of  the  flock  to  the  Great  Shepherd 
Himself. —  (2)  There  is  teaching  a  little  more 
definite  in  Jn  17"  and  -'• ".  In  both  these  places 
our  Lord  makes  His  own  unity  with  the  Father 
the  exemplar  of  the  unity  of  believers.  Reverence 
forbids  any  dogmatic  statement  as  to  the  point  to 
which  this  sacred  analogy  can  be  pressed.  But 
Christ's  own  words  in  the  immediate  context  con- 
tain suggestions  as  to  His  meaning  in  using  the 
analogy.  It  is  noticeable  that  here  also,  as  in  Jn 
lu'"*,  tlie  underlying  basis  of  unity  is  the  believers' 
personal  relation  to  Christ  (and  tlie  Father).  '  That 
they  may  be  one,  even  as  we  are  one,'  in  v.",  is  at 
once  defined  more  closely  in  the  words,  '  I  in  them, 
and  thou  in  me'  (v.^).  The  resultant  unity  is 
gained  through  the  medium  not  of  an  external, 
but  of  a  purely  spiritual,  condition  (iVa  Siuif  rere- 
'Kctun^foi  CIS  en,  v.^).  In  the  same  way,  in  the 
statement  of  v.",  it  is  a  spiritual  relationsliip  to 
God  that  will  yield  the  unity  Christ  craves  for  His 


disciples.  This  unity  will  follow  upon  their  being 
'  kept  ii'  T(j  dnbiiarl  aov.'  It  will  be  assured  if  their 
relationsliip  to  the  Father  is  a  counterpart  of  what 
had  been  their  relationship  to  Christ  (v.'-'),  i.e.  a 
personal  relationship.  Whatever,  therefore,  be 
the  exact  meaning  which  the  analogy  used  by  our 
Lord  was  intended  to  convey,  His  own  language  in 
the  context  appears  to  make  it  plain  that  it  must 
be  interpreted  with  a  spiritual  rather  than  with  an 
external  significance. — (3)  This  conclusion  derives 
not  a  little  support  from  the  incident  of  Mk  9^''-. 
When  a  definite  test  case  arose.  He  declared  the 
real  fellowship  of  His  followers  to  depend  not  upon 
any  outward  bond  of  union  between  them,  but 
upon  each  bearing  such  a  relationship  to  Himself 
as  would  be  involved  in  His  working  ^iri  tiJ  ovotiarl 
fiov.  True,  the  man  in  question  may  not  have 
been  a  nominal  disciple  of  our  Lord,  but  that  in 
His  view  he  was  a  real  disciple  is  distinctly  stated 
(v.-*").  This  instance,  therefore,  may  be  regarded 
as  a  practical  application  on  the  part  of  Christ 
Himself  of  the  teaching  under  consideration  ;  and 
thus  it  strongly  confirms  the  inteniretation  that 
we  have  put  upon  it.  It  would  be  outside  the 
scope  of  the  present  article  to  consider  arguments 
for  or  against  the  corporate  unity  of  Christians 
dra\\-n  from  other  sources,  some  of  which  are  very 
strong  and  all  of  which  must,  of  course,  be  duly 
weighed  before  a  fair  judgment  on  the  whole 
question  can  be  reached.  But  so  far  as  the  subject- 
matter  before  us  is  concerned,  we  find  it  hard  to 
resist  the  conclusion  that  such  external  unity  formed 
no  part  of  the  teaching  of  Christ  and  the  Gospels. 

One  word  must  be  added.  The  '  communion  of 
saints'  joins  the  believer  not  merely  to  his  fellow- 
Christians  upon  earth,  but  also  to  those  who  have 
passed  within  the  veil  (cf.  He  12').  This  aspect  of 
communion  is  not  emphasized  in  tlie  Gospels,  but 
there  are  indications  that  the  fellowship  of  be- 
lievers upon  earth  was  linked  in  the  thought  of 
Christ  to  the  yet  closer  fellowship  of  those  beyond 
death.  At  any  rate,  it  is  worthy  of  notice  that  in 
instituting  the  sacred  rite  which,  as  we  have  seen, 
at  once  witnesses  to  and  secures  our  communion 
one  with  another,  our  Lord  carefully  pointed  for- 
ward to  the  reunion  that  will  take  place  in  the 
world  to  come  (Mt  26^  ;  note  ik0'  ufiQv) ;  and  that 
in  a  few  suggestive  words  He  represented  the 
earthly  gathering  as  incomplete  apart  from  its  final 
consummation  in  the  heavenly  kingdom  (Lk  22"). 
See  further  artt.  Fellowship,  Unity'. 


_  ,-    Hag, 

o/  the  Christian  with  God ;  Maclaren,  Holi/ 
,.,-  ,,„<,..  r-h^-  \vi.-xix. ;  MacCuUoch,  Comparative  Theotogv, 
ir  1  :  >  ,111^.  Keidence  of  Chr.  Experience.  179;  Strong, 
/ ,  (         ■   ! Jii (J/,  11 ;  Westcott,  Historic  Faith,  123,  247 ; 

■         ■  i  •  Crec((,  32,  200 ;  Expos.  Tirrus,  iii.  197,  v. 

i   iiK    '..W'    ),     nh);  Tusker,  Spiritual  Communian. 

H.  BiSSEKER. 

COMPASSION.-See  Pity. 
COMPLACENCY.— 

Of  Scripture  words  expresj^ive  of  tlie  idea  of  complacency  as 
distinguished  from  benevolence,  we  find  in  the  Heb.  of  the  OT 
j'Srp,  ,i)r!,  variously  rendered  in  the  LXX  by  Wxii.  i.,  or  by  some 
derivative  of  the  verb  lixoua,.    In  the  NT  the  expressions  used 

are  liSeje.'o,,  iMe«;«,  tinpirriei,  liifSirriK,  i.pia-x>,.  The  words 
i-/«T««,,  «}.«Tr  are  also  used  in  this  sense.  In  the  OT  we  find 
X^'i  '  take  pleasure  in,"  in  1  S  1822  tr.  in  the  LXX  by  the  phrase 
eixu  i.,  where  Saul's  servants  say  to  David,  •  Behold  the  kins 
taketh  pleasure  in  thee,'  meaning  that  he  was  willing  to  regard 
with  satisfaction  a  matrimonial  alliance  between  David  and 
Saul's  daughter.  Similarly  the  word  .lyn  '  delight,'  is  rendered 
by  the  same  Gr.  equivalent  in  1  Ch  28^,  where  Da\id  says  of 
God,  'He  likerl  me  to  make  me  king.'  .lyi  is  used  of  God's 
pleasure  in  '!  ■  rl.  -l  tl;.  s,  ,■  '-r  •!  ,I.,l,oviih  in  Is  ii\  where 
the   LXX    I       :      -       .    :  ;     .■    u-.,.    'Tny   soul    lias 


COMPLACENCY 


COMPLACENCY 


my  soul  is  well  pleased."  Here,  apparently,  the  thought  of  the 
IjXX  inclines  more  to  the  idea  ot  the  Divine  act  of  will  by  which 
the  Servant  of  God  was  appointed  to  his  mission,  while  St. 
Matthew  emphasizes  the  love  with  which,  because  of  His 
redemptive  work,  the  Father  regards  His  Son,  and  so  he  prefers 
'  my  beloved '  to  '  mine  elect '  as  a  rendering  ot  n-nj  (Mt  1218). 
In  other  passatjes  also  where  the  word  I'?;;  is  used,  as  in  Is  5310, 
the  LXX  makes  prominent  the  idea  of  the  good  pleasure  of  the 
Father's  will. 

Again  njT  is  used  in  Pr  16'  of  the  favour  with  which  God 
regards  the  ways  of  the  righteous,  where  the  LXX  renders  the 
passage, '  The  ways  of  righteous  men  are  acceptable  (8i«T«0  with 
the  Lord ' ;  and  the  A  V,  ^  When  a  man's  ways  please  the  Lord,  he 
maketh  even  his  enemies  to  be  at  peace  with  him.' 

In  the  NT,  where  tilaxiu,  tiUxlu.,  are  used,  it  is  not  always  ap- 


latter  sense  in  those  passages  which  refer  to  election,  the  deter- 
minate counsel  and  foreknowledge  of  God.  So  Eph  1=.  a,  Ph 
213  etc.  According  to  Cremer,  ivhoxiv  '(1)  relates  to  a  determi- 
nation when  it  is  followed  by  an  infinitive,  Lk  12^2  ,  .  . ; 
(2)  Where  the  matter  under  consideration  is  the  relation  of  the 
subject  to  an  object,  the  latter  is  expressed  in  profane  Greek 
by  the  dative,  rarely  by  the  addition  of  et/  t/v/.  ...  In  the 
NT  the  accusative  occurs  only  in  He  106-  8  (from  Ps  40'),'  and 
here  iilox-AiroL!  is  obviously  parallel  to  >ilii>.y,ir»s.  '  Elsewhere 
i»  .  .  .'  So  in  Mt  3"  ||  Mk  in  ||  Lk  322,  and  again  Mt  175.  '  This 
mode  of  indicating  the  object  is  justified  by  the  circumstance 
that  ti'i»xi7v  may  be  classed  among  the  verbs  which  denote 
an  emotion,  a  mood,  a  sentiment  cherished  towards  any 
one  =  to  take  pleasure  in  something,   to  have  an  inclination 

'  Complacency,'  as  the  word  is  commonly  used, 
means  a  state  of  being  jjleased  or  prr.atitind,  and  is 
synonymous  with  'pleasure,'  'gratilii  .itinn,'  '  s;itis- 
faction.'  The  appropriateness  of  mh  li  ;i  wcid  in 
the  department  of  Biblical  theolut^y  i^  .sii,:^;.;estrd 
by  what  we  know  to  be  its  recognized  use  in  the 
sphere  of  ethics.  Complacency,  as  a  mental  state, 
arises  when  there  is  perceived  in  the  object  con- 
templated some  quality  or  qualities  which  call 
fortli  a  feeling  of  pleasure  or  satisfaction.  The 
object  may  be  something  without,  upon  wliich  the 
mind  can  rest  with  pleasure,  or  it  may  be  in  the 
mind  itself,  when,  in  seasons  of  reflexion,  thought 
turned  inwards  upon  itself  is  in  a  condition  of 
perfect  harmony,  finding  in  itself  no  jarring  ele- 
ment. The  mind  or  soul  is  self-complacent  when 
it  is  at  peace  with  itself,  satisfied  that  all  is  as  it 
ought  to  be,  no  disturbing  or  self-accusing  thoughts 
arising.  Again,  the  mind  is  said  to  regard  with 
complacency  any  outward  object,  animate  or  in- 
animate, which  suggests  thoughts  of  order  and 
beauty,  as  when  it  is  affected  with  pleasure  or 
contentment  by  the  contemplation  of  the  beauty 
of  nature,  of  a  fair  landscape,  or  of  the  harmony 
of  earth  and  sky.  The  word  applies  also  to  rela- 
tions between  intelligent  beings,  as  between 
friends,  between  husband  and  wife,  parent  and 
child,  brothers  and  sisters,  when  one  is  satisfied 
with  the  character,  or  state  of  health,  or  conduct,  or 
prosperity  of  the  object  of  his  affection  or  interest. 
Complacency  arises  in  the  mind  wlien  one's  efibrts 
in  any  direction  are  successful,  and  the  object 
aimed  at  is  attained.  The  artist,  or  the  composer 
in  prose,  poetry,  or  music,  regards  his  work  with 
complacency  when  he  has  succeeded  in  giving  ade- 
qua,te  expression  to  his  ideas,  the  workman  when 
he  is  successful  in  his  workmanship,  the  merchant 
or  tradesman  when  his  enterprise  accomplishes  the 
end  at  which  he  aims,  the  philanthropist  when  his 
ettorts  for  the  material  or  moral  or  spiritual  well- 
beinf'  of  the  objects  of  his  interest  are  rewarded, 
and  lie  sees  tlie  fruits  of  his  labours  in  the  happi- 
ness and  the  gratitude  of  his  fellows. 

In  ethics,  complacency  is  considered  as  one  of  the 
forms  of  love,  and  as  such  is  distinguished  from 
benevolence.  'The  distinction  is  well  put  by 
Kdwards  in  his  'Dissertation  concerning  the 
Mature  of  True  Virtw'  {Works,  ed.  London,  1834, 
vol.  1.  pp.  123-125) : 

•  Love  is  commonly  distinguished  into  love  of  benevolence 
and  love  of  complacence.  Love  ot  benmoleme  is  that  affection 
or  propensity  of  the  heart  to  any  being  which  causes  it  to 


;  to  its  wellbeing,  or  disposes  it  to  desire  and  take  pleasure 

happiness.     And  if  I  mistake  not,  it  is  agreeable  to  the 

an  opinion  that  beauty  in  the  object  is  not  always  the 

)und  of  this  propensity,  but  that  there  may  be  a  disposition 

the  welfare  of  those  that  are  not  considered  as  beautiful, 

less  mere  existence  be  accounted  a  beauty.    And  benevolence 


be  the  ground  both  of  their  existence  and  of 
their  beauty,  rather  than  the  foundation  ot  God's  benevolence  ; 
as  it  is  supposed  that  it  is  God's  goodness  which  moved  Him  to 
give  them  both  being  and  beauty.  So  that,  if  all  virtue  primarily 
consists  in  that  affection  of  heart  to  being  which  is  exercised  in 
benevolence,  or  an  inclination  to  its  good,  then  God's  virtue  is 
so  extended  as  to  include  a  propensity  not  only  to  being  actu- 
ally existing,  and  actually  beautiful,  but  to  possible  being,  so  as 
to  incline  Him  to  give  a  being  beauty  and  happiness. 

'  What  is  commonly  called  love  of  cotnplacence,  presupposes 
beauty.  For  it  is  no  other  than  delight  in  beauty,  or  com- 
placence in  the  person  or  being  beloved  for  his  beauty.  .  .  . 
When  any  one  under  the  influence  of  general  benevolence  sees 
another  being  possessed  of  the  like  general  benevolence,  this 
attaches  his  heart  to  hinn  and  draws  forth  greater  love  to  him 
than  merely  his  having  existence  ;  because  so  far  as  the  being 
beloved  has  love  to  the  being  in  general,  so  tar  his  own  being  is, 
as  it  were,  enlarged,  extends  to,  and  in  some  sort  comprehends, 
being  in  general,  and  therefore  he  that  is  governed  by  love  to 
being  in  general  must  of  necessity  have  complacence  in  him, 
and  the  greater  degree  of  benevolence  to  him,  as  it  were  out  of 
gratitude  to  him  for  his  love  to  general  existence,  that  his  own 
heart  is  extended  and  united  to,  and  so  looks  on  its  interest  as 
its  own.  It  is  because  his  heart  is  thus  united  to  being  in 
general  that  he  looks  on  a  benevolent  propensity  to  being  in 
general,  wherever  he  sees  it,  as  the  beauty  ot  the  being  in  whom 
It  is ;  an  excellency  that  renders  him  worthy  of  esteem,  com- 
placence, and  the  greater  goodwill.  .  .  .  This  spiritual  beauty, 
which  is  but  a  secondary  ground  ot  virtuous  benevolence,  is  the 
ground,  not  only  of  benevolence  but  complacence,  and  is  the 
primary  ground  ot  the  latter ;  that  is,  when  the  complacence  is 
truly  virtuous.  Love  to  us  in  particular,  and  kindness  received, 
may  be  a  secondary  ground,  but  this  is  the  primary  objective 
foundation  of  it.  .  .  .  He  that  has  true  virtue,  consisting  in 
benevolence  to  being  in  general  and  in  benevolence  to  virtiiolts 
being,  must  necessarily  have  a  supreme  love  to  God,  both  of 
benevolence  and  complacence.' 

According  to  this  exposition,  complacency  as  a 
moral  quality  is  the  result,  for  the  most  part,  of 
benevolence  reacting  upon  itself,  lo\'e  making  the 
object  beloved  become  worthy  of  aii'ection.  What 
one  loved  at  first  out  of  mere  benevolence  becomes 
an  object  morally  beautiful,  worthy  of  love,  and 
thus  an  object  of  complacency.  Scripture  illustra- 
tions of  the  Divine  love  as  benevolence  and  as  com- 
placency naturally  suggest  themselves,  and  enable 
us  to  understand  how  the  latter  is  often  the  fruit 
of  the  former.  The  work  of  Creation  is  a  typical 
instance  of  the  benevolence  of  God,  tlie  Almighty 
forming  the  world  out  of  nothing,  bringing  light 
out  of  darkness,  beauty  out  of  chaos,  life  out  of 
death.  When,  at  the  completion  of  His  work,  God 
beheld  the  product  of  His  benevolence,  and  pro- 


nounced all  very  good.  He  showed  complacency. 
So  also  with  regard  to  the  work  of  Redemption, 
God's  love  to  the  ruined  world  (Jn  3"*)  was  the 
love  of  benevolence.  His  love  to  sinners  as  re- 
deemed, made  a  new  creation  by  that  love,  is  the 
love  of  complacency  (Mt  3"). 

Keeping  this  distinction  in  view,  we  find  in  the 
Gospels  not  a  few  instances  in  which  the  expression 
'  complacency '  may  be  fitly  applied  to  describe 
that  particular  aspect  of  the  love  of  God,  or  of  the 
love  of  Jesus  Christ,  or  even  that  feeling  of  grate- 
ful afl'ection  and  devotion  which  the  Divine  love 
kindles  in  the  hearts  of  true  believers,  to  which 
the  Evangelists  direct  our  attention.  If  com- 
placency means  pleasure  in  the  contemplation  of 
beauty,  or  pleasure  in  the  results  of  benevolence, 
(1)  the  expression  may  with  all  propriety  be  in 
these  respects  used  to  describe  the  love  of  God  the 
Father  to  God  the  Son,  or  again  the  love  witli 
which  the  Father  contemplates  the  fruits  of  the 
Divine  work  of  redemption  in  the  hearts  and  lives 
of  the  redeemed.  (2)  It  may  be  ajiplied  also  to 
the  witness  of  Jesus  to  His  own  character,  life,  and 
work,  and  to  His  "racious  acceptance  of  the  faitli 
and  devotion  of  His  disciples.  (3)  Lastly,  it  is 
appropriate  as  a  description  of  the  joy  and  peace 
with  wliich  believers  realize  the  love  of  God  and 


356 


COMPLACENCY 


COMPLACENCY 


the  grace  of  Christ,  and  of  their  satisfaction  with 
the  all-sufficiency  of  the  Redeemer's  work. 

1.  The  love  of  God  the  Father  to  God  the  Son, 
especially  xvith  regard  to  His  life  and  ministry. — 
The  inetfable  love,  with  which  from  all  eternity 
the  Father  has  regarded  tlie  Son,  is  referred  to  in 
those  passages  which  speak  of  the  glory  which 
Christ  had  with  the  P'ather  before  the  world  was 
(Jn  IT"-  ^),  or  which  describe  Christ  as  '  the  only- 
laegotten  Son  which  is  in  the  bosom  of  the  Father ' 
(1'*).  But  the  Divine  complacency,  in  the  aspect 
of  delight  in  the  contemplation  of  the  beauty  of 
Christ's  character  and  work,  is  that  upon  which 
special  emphasis  is  laid  in  the  Gospels,  in  which 
our  attention  is  carefully  directed  to  the  Father's 
interest  in  the  ministry  of  His  Son,  and  to  His 
sympathy  and  satisfaction  with  Christ's  perfect 
submission  to  His  will,  in  connexion  with  His 
voluntary  humiliation  and  suffering  for  the  sake 
of  man.  And,  it  is  worthy  of  special  note,  it  is 
in  this  connexion  that  we  find  the  expression  '  be 
well  pleased,'  '  take  pleasure  in '  (eiSoKelv  iv),  where 
text  and  context  plainly  indicate  that  the  thought 
of  complacency  is  intended,  as  distinguished  from 
the  other  sense  in  which  the  words  (v5ok€'w,  eiSoKla 
occur  in  the  NT,  that  of  the  Divine  election,  the 
will  or  purpose  of  God,  'His  mere  good  pleasure.' 
The  Gospels  mention  two  occasions  on  which  the 
words,  'This  is  my  beloved  Son,  in  whom  I  am 
well  pleased,'  were  uttered  by  the  voice  of  God 
Himself. 

At  the  Baptism,  God  spoke  thus  (Mt  3"  1|  Mk  1" 
II  Lk  3--).  liy  these  words  He  testified  the  peculiar 
pleasure  w  itli  which  He  regarded  His  Son  at  the 
moment  of  His  consecration  to  His  mission ;  His 
satisfaction  with  the  spirit  of  submission  to  the 
Father's  will  which  had  characterized  Jesus 
throughout  the  years  of  obscurity  during  which  He 
prepared  Himself  for  His  ministry,  and  the  lowli- 
ness with  which  He  submitted  to  the  baptism  of 
John — because  thus  it  became  Him  'to  fulfil  all 
righteousness ' ;  and  His  gracious  acceptance  of  the 
voluntary  oH'ering  which  the  Son  now  niade  to  the 
Father.  It  was  the  moment  of  consecration  to  that 
ministry  of  Immiliation  to  fulfil  which  Christ  had 
come  into  the  world.  Therefore,  in  token  of  His  ac- 
ceptance of  that  act  of  submission,  which  spoke 
thus,  '  Lo,  I  come  to  do  thy  will,  O  God,'  the  Father 
spoke  thus  from  heaven  in  the  audience  of  men  and 
angels,  '  This  is  ray  beloved  Son,  in  whom  I  am 
well  pleased.'  We  may  not,  indeed,  here  or  in  the 
other  ease  in  wliieh  this  voice  from  heaven  was 
heard,  leave  out  of  sight  the  additional  thought 
suggested  by  the  tense  of  the  last  word,  evS6KT)(ya, 
the  Greek  aorist— the  thought,  that  is,  of  the 
complacency  with  which  from  all  eternity  the 
Father  had  regarded  the  Son.  But  this  is  the 
central  thought  of  the  passage,  tlie  peculiar  plea- 
sure with  which  the  Father  contemplated  the  Son's 
voluntary  humiliation.  His  submission  to  tlie  Law, 
and  His  resolve  to  fulfil  all  righteousness  by  a  life 
of  lowliest  service. 

Again,  with  f((ual  apiiropriateness  these  words 
were  used  in  tin'  |i:iiallrl  case  of  the  Transfigura- 
tion (Mt  17  ■,  (  f.  M  k  '.!',  I,U  9-5),  when  Jesus  entered 
upon  the  final  -,(a-r  ..f  His  ministry.  Then,  in 
full  view  c.l  ihr  .1,,-^,  at  the  close  of  our  Lord's 
conference  \\\\\i  M..„.,  ami  Elijah  concerning  'his 
decease  whiih  li.'  \^a^  about  to  accomplish  at 
Jerusalem,'  tliat  Divine  voice  spoke  in  the  audience 
of  Jesus  and  the  three  disciples.  Tlius  a  second 
time  God  set  the  seal  of  His  Divine  approval  to 
His  Son's  submission,  and  testified  to  the  com- 
placency with  wliicli  He  regarded  His  resolve  by 
His  death  to  make  atonement  for  the  sins  of  the 

In  tliis  connexion  may  be  noted  also  those  jias- 
sages  in  whidi  Jesus  speaks  of  the  glory  of  God  in 


the  triumph  of  redeeming  love.  Such  are :  Jn 
10"  '  Therefore  doth  ray  F'ather  love  me,  because 
I  lay  down  ray  life  that  I  might  take  it  again ' ; 
1331.32  <Now  is  the  Son  of  Man  glorified,  and  God 
is  glorified  in  him,  and  God  shall  glorify  him  in 
himself,  and  shall  straightway  glorify  him ' ;  to 
which  may  be  added  St.  Matthew's  tr.  of  Is  42'  in 
Mt  12''  'My  beloved,  in  whom  my  soul  is  well 
pleased.' 

The  thought  of  God's  complacency  in  connexion 
with  His  contemplation  of  the  fruits  of  Christ's 
redemptive  work  in  the  regeneration  and  recon- 
ciliation of  the  world  is  suggested  by  the  closing 
words  of  the  Angels'  Song  (Lk  2'^  RV),  'on  earth 
peace  among  men  in  whom  lie  is  well  pleased ' 
(eVi  yT}S  elpiivri  iv  dvdpiviroLs  evdoKlas),  where  again 
we  find  the  technical  word,  if  such  it  may  be 
called,  for  this  aspect  of  the  Divine  love. 

It  is  now  very  generally  admitted  that  this  is  the  sense  in 
which  tiioxieti,  honcB  voluntatis,  ought  to  be  rendered.  That  is 
to  say,  here  we  have  the  assurance  of  another  voice  from  heaven, 
a  message  expressly  sent  at  the  time  of  our  Lord's  nativity,  for 
the  comfort  of  those  who  waited  for  the  consolation  of  Israel, 
of  the  complacent  regard  with  which  the  Father,  contemplating 
the  objects  of  His  grace,  looked  upon  them  as  identified  ■  "' 


upon  th 
we'll-beloved  Soil.     'The  eye  of  «od  could  i 
placency  rest  upon  mankind,'  regavdii 
sented  by  His  Incarnate  Son,  and  ii 

spit 

thei 


being  repre- 


The  same  thought,  that  of  the  pleasure  which 
God  the  Father  takes  in  the  spiritual  welfare  of 
His  children,  is  suggested  by  passages  which  speak 
of  God's  joy  over  the  return  of  penitent  sinners. 
Such  are  :  Jn  10",  Lk  15'-  '»•  "•  f '  ^  (in  the  parables 
of  the  Lost  Sheep,  the  Lost  Coin,  and  the  Prodigal 
Son,  in  which  vv.---^-  are  especially  notable,  where 
Jesus  mentions  the  joy  of  the  father  over  the  son's 
return,  and  the  reason  which  the  father  gives  for 
that  joy :  '  It  was  meet  that  we  should  make 
merry,  and  be  glad  :  for  this  thy  brother  was  dead, 
and  is  alive  again  ;  and  was  lost,  and  is  found ') ; 
our  Lord's  assurance  in  another  place  that  the 
prayer  of  the  Publican  ■i\'as  accepted  of  God  (Lk 
18''') ;  and  again  His  testimony  that  prayer  and 
almsgiving,  if  prompted  by  the  right  spirit,  are 
rew'arded  by  the  Father  who  seeth  in  secret  (Mt 

2.  (a)  Christ  is  represented  as  regarding  with 
complacency  His  own  character  and  work,  and  His 
perfect  harmony  ivith  the  Father. — This  appears  in 
many  passages,  especially  in  the  discourses  re- 
corded by  St.  John.  In  conversation  with  the 
Woman  of  Samaria,  Jesus  declares  that  He  only 
can  bestow  the  gift  of  living  water  which  the  soul 
of  man  requires  ;  and,  in  connexion  with  the  same 
incident,  tells  His  disciples  that  it  is  His  meat  and 
drink  to  do  the  Father's  will  and  to  finish  His 
work  (Jn  4'°-*').  Again  He  says  to  the  Jews 
that  He  is  in  full  accord  with  His  Father  in  respect 
of  will  and  of  work  (5"' '"),  that  '  the  Father  lovetli 
the  Son,  and  showeth  him  all  things  that  himself 
doeth.  .  .  .  That  all  men  should  honour  the  Son, 
even  as  they  honour  the  Father'  (vv.'-^-^S).  In  His 
discourse  on  the  Bread  of  Life  (ch.  6)  we  find  expres- 
sions indicative  of  His  conviction  that  His  work  is 
in  all  respects  well  pleasing  to  the  Father  (v.""-). 
He  challenges  His  adversaries  to  convict  Him  of 
sin  (8*°).  He  enjoys  perfect  communion  with  the 
Father  (7^- "%  He  claims  that  the  Father  glorifies 
Him,  and  bears  witness  of  Him  (8",  cf.  vv.'^-'*). 
He  declares  that  He  only  is  the  Good  Shepherd, 
and  all  that  came  before  Him  were  thieves  and 
robbers  (K^'"'",  cf.  vv."- '').  He  speaks  of  the 
excellence  and  thoroughness  of  His  work,  and  of 
the  satisfaction  with  which  the  F'ather  regards  it 
(10"'^-).     He  speaks  of  the  success  of  His  mission. 


COMPLACENCY 


CONDEMNATION 


357 


and  testifies  the  complacency  with  which  He  sur- 
veys His  ministry.  On  the  ni^lit  of  the  betrayal 
He  declares  that  hostility  to  Himself  means  hos- 
tility to  the  Father  (14-1- -■' 15-^).  A  distinct!  note 
of  triumph  marks  His  closing  utterances.  So  in 
lf»-,  cf.  I3'"f-;  and  again,  when  He  bids  His 
disciples  be  of  good  cheer,  for  that  He  has  over- 
come the  world  (16^).  ■  Addressing  the  Father 
Himself  in  His  intercessory  prayer,  He  says :  '  I 
have  glorified  thee  on  the  earth :  I  have  finished 
the  work  which  thou  gavest  me  to  do'  (XT'*) ;  and 
again,  speaking  of  the  disciples  :  '  Those  that  thou 
gavest  me  I  have  kept,  and  none  of  them  is  lost, 
but  the  son  of  perdition  '  (v.'-).  Lastly,  one  of  His 
last  words  from  the  cross  is  the  exclamation  of 
triumph,  'It  is  finished'  (19™).  The  force  of  such 
passages  cannot  be  mistaken.  They  show  the 
Christ  seeing  '  of  the  travail  of  his  soul,'  and  ex- 
pressing Himself  as  'satisfied,'  His  complacency, 
as  He  surveys  the  work  of  redemption,  appearing 
as  a  true  parallel  to  the  judgment  pronounced  by 
God  upon  the  work  of  creation,  when  'God  saw 
everything  that  he  had  made,  and,  behold,  it  was 
very  good '  (Gn  1"). 

With  the  instances  cited  above  may  be  compared 
in  this  connexion  such  a  passage  as  that  where 
Jesus,  confirming  the  joy  of  the  seventy  disciples 
in  the  success  of  their  mission,  says :  '  I  beheld 
Satan  as  lightning  fall  from  heaven.  .  .  .  Notwith- 
standing in  this  rejoice  not,  that  the  spirits  are 
subject  unto  you ;  but  rather  rejoice  that  your 
names  are  written  in  heaven '  (Lk  10''-  -°). 

(6)  Jesus  further  expressed  complacency  with 
respect  to  the  ivisdom  of  the  Divine  counsels,  and 
as  He  contemplated  the  fruits  of  His  tvork  in  the 
hearts  of  believers.  Witli  regard  to  the  first  point, 
we  note  that  whicli  St.  Matthew  and  St.  Luke 
record — Christ's  ascription  of  praise  to  the  Father 
who  '  hid  these  things  from  the  wise  and  prudent, 
and  revealed  them  unto  babes'  (Mt  ll^"-  il  Lk 
j()2iir.)  With  regard  to  the  second,  instances 
abound  in  the  Gospels.  Thus  Jesus  testified  the 
pleasure  with  which  He  regarded  the  faith  of 
Peter,  as  when  at  the  first  He  welcomed  him,  and 
showed  him  what  he  should  yet  become  (Jn  1''^, 
cf.  Lk  5'°) ;  and  when,  towards  the  end  of  His 
ministry.  He  accepted  Peter's  confession  (Mt  16"- 
'*).  He  showed  gracious  appreciation  of  the  char- 
acter and  devoutness  of  Nathanael  (Jn  l'""''^). 
Again  He  expressed  satisfaction  with  the  loyalty 
of  His  followers,  whom  He  promised  to  reward  at 
the  time  of  the  final  consummation  (;\It  19=7-29 1|  Mk 
1028-3»  II  Lk  182«-3»  ;  cf.  Lk  2228-30,  Jn  IS'-'").  As  He 
showed  pleasure  in  the  faith  of  His  immediate 
disciples,  so  also  He  welcomed  that  of  others,  as 
when  He  spoke  with  signal  ajiprobation  of  the 
devotion  of  Mary  of  Bethany  (Lk  10^=),  who  had 
'chosen  the  good  part,'  and  of  whose  ottering  of 
gratitude  at  the  supper  in  the  house  of  Simon  the 
leper  He  said  that  she  had  wrought  a  good  work 
upon  Him  which  could  not  be  forgotten  (Mt  26'= 
II  Mk  14«-»  II  Jn  123-s).  He  said  of  the  simple  faith 
of  the  Roman  centurion  at  Capernaum :  '  I  have 
not  found  so  great  faith,  no,  not  in  Israel'  (Mt  8'" 
II  Lk  7»).  Similarly,  He  expressed  delight  in  that 
of  the  Woman  of  Canaan  (Mt  15=8).  He  testified 
concernmg  the  sinful  woman  in  the  Pharisee's 
house,  that  '  she  loved  much,'  wherefore  her  sins. 


which 


many. 


Iff.). 


., ,   all  forgiven  (Lk  .      ,. 

Agam,  an  illustration  of  complacency  is  found 
in  the  blessing  pronounced  by  our  Lord  upon  little 
?l"Wren(Mt  m^\\  Mk  10«  ||  Lk  18's  ||  cf.  Mt  \m-  \\ 
Lk  9'"- •'8) ;  while  the  value  which  He  attached  to 
their  faith  and  devotion  is  clearly  shown  in  the 
incident  of  the  children  in  the  Temple,  when  Jesus 
silenced  the  cavils  of  the  Pharisees  and  priests,  and 
demanded,  'Have  ye  never  read,  Out  of  the  mouth 
of  babes  and  sucklings  tliou  hast  perfected  praise  •'. ' 


(Mt  21"').  Again,  Jesus  commended  the  liberality 
of  the  widow's  otterin"  (Mk  12«- "  ||  Lk  21^  •*).  He 
noted  with  pleasure  the  gratitude  of  the  Samari- 
tan whom  He  had  cured  of  leprosy  (Lk  IT'*- "), 
and  regarded  with  complacency  i'\cn  the  work  of 
the  exorcist  who  cast  out  devils  in  His  nanie  yet 
did  not  join  the  company  of  Jesus  (.Mk  '.i'-'  Lk  <P). 
Christ's  delight  in  receiving  sinners  and  acknow- 
ledging their  faith  is  a  conspicuous  feature  in  the 
Gospels.  The  parables  of  the  Lost  Sheep,  the  Lost 
Coin,  and  the  Prodigal  Son  (Lk  ISS-s  It  Mt  18"-", 
Lk  15'  etc. )  are  full  of  this  lesson.  Lastly,  that 
at  the  Judgment  of  the  Great  Day,  Jesus  will,  as 
Judge,  not  only  justify,  but  reward  with  liberal 
commendation  and  distinguished  honour  all  faith- 
ful disciples,  according  to  the  service  rendered  by 
them  to  their  Master  or  to  their  Master's  servants, 
is  the  central  lesson  of  the  parables  of  the  Pounds 
and  Talents  (Lk  19""",  Mt  25='-=')  and  of  the  dis- 
couise  on  the  Last  Judgment  (Mt  25**-"). 

3.  Of  complacency  on  the  part  of  man,  con- 
sidered as  a  virtue,  i.e.  plensure  in  the  contempla- 
tion of  moral  and  spiritual  beauty,  we  find  one 
notable  illustration  in  the  Gospels,  in  the  Baptist's 
testimony  to  Jesus  in  Jn  3="*,  where  John  ex- 
presses his  pleasure  in  the  success  of  Christ's 
ministry,  and  compares  Jesus  to  (the  bridegi-oom 
and  himself  to  the  friend  of  the  bridegroom,  who 
'rejoiceth  greatly  because  of  the  bridegroom's 
voice.'  Such  complacency  as  that,  sympathetic 
interest  in  the  Saviour  and  His  scheme  of  salva- 
tion, and  grateful  acquiescence  in  the  will  of  God 
for  man's  salvation,  is  alone  legitimate  on  the  part 
of  fallen  man.  As  to  complacency  in  view  of  man's 
own  knowledge  and  attainments,  Jesus  teaches 
that  it  is  wholly  inadmissible.  No  man,  in  the 
imperfect  state  of  this  present  life,  has  a  right  to 
be  satisfied  with  himself.  Self-complacency  is  a 
sure  sign  of  ignorance  and  spiritual  blindness. 
The  penitent  publican,  not  the  complacent  Phari- 
see, is  justified  of  God  (Lk  18"-").  The  followers 
of  Jesus  must,  when  they  have  done  all,  confess 
that  they  are  unprofitable  servants  (Lk  17'°'-) ;  and 
Jesus,  while  generously  acknowledging  the  faith- 


of  His  disciples  and  assuring  them  that 
they  shall  in  nowise  lose  their  reward,  expressly 
warns  them  that  the  last  may  be  first  and  the  first 
last  (Mt  W>  II  Mk  lO^',  cf.  Mt  20>S). 


LlTERATCRE.— Cremer,  Bib.-Theol.  Lex.  s.m.  uitxiiti,  liUy-iit, 
etc.  ;  the  Comm.  of  Alford,  Meyer,  Lange,  etc.;  Bengel's 
Gnomon;  Herzog,  PRE,  artt.  '  Gott,'  v.  262ff.,  'Liebe,'  viii. 
388Sf.,  '  Versohnune,"  xvii.  92,  124,  etc.;  Jonathan  Edwards,  ed. 
London,  1834,  vol.  i.  pp.  123-12.';,  cf.  *.  cclx.xi!.  f.,  pp.  237,  240; 
SartoriuB,  Doctrine  of  the  Divine  Love,  p.  215 ;  Martensen, 
Christ.  Dogmatics,  p.  303 ;  Schleiermacher,  '  Der  christHche 
Glaube,'  ii.  199  {Theol.  Werke,  Bd.  4). 

Hugh  H.  Currie. 
CONCEPTION.— See  Virgin  Birth. 

CONDEMNATION.  —  The  disappearance  of  the 
term  'damnation'  in  the  RV  of  the  Gospels  is 
suggestive  of  more  sober  and  reasonable  thoughts 
about  the  Divine  judgment  against  sin.  Condem- 
nation at  the  last  may  indeed  fall  like  a  thunder- 
bolt upon  the  rejected  (Mt  21'").  The  fig-tree  in 
the  parable  has  a  time  of  probation  and  then  may 
be  suddenly  cut  down  (Lk  IS^"").  At  the  Dai/  of 
Judgment  the  universal  benevolence  of  God  ex- 
perienced here  (Mt  S''^,  Lk  6'^)  will  give  place  to 
His  righteous  wrath  against  the  persistently  re- 
bellious. Condemnation  is  the  irrevocable  sen- 
tence then  passed  upon  the  abusers  of  this  life  (Mt 
2541-46)  Especially  will  this  sentence  of  rejection 
and  punishment  descend  then  upon  tlie  hypocrite 
(Mk  12").  The  state  of  the  condemned  will  be  a 
veritable  Gehenna  (Mt  23*^).  Weepincf  and  gtiash- 
ing  of  teeth  picture  the  dreadful  condition  of  con- 
demned souls  (Mt  22'3  24"  25*').  Not  only,  wc 
must  suppose,  punishment  by  pain  for  rebellion, 


358       CONFESSION  (OF  CHRIST) 


CONFESSION  (OF  CHRIST) 


but  regret  at  past  iiidiH'ereiite,  remorse  at  pjist 
folly,  shame  at  past  malice,  will  be  the  ten-ible 
feelings  lacerating  souls  that  have  found  not  for- 
giveness but  condemnation.  The  condemned  will 
regret  their  indiflerence  to  Christ's  demands,  which 
they  have  ignored  (Jn  3^").  They  will  be  tortured 
by  the  keen  perception  of  their  extreme  folly  in 
rejecting  the  knowledge  they  might  have  used  (Lk 
1131.32)  They  will  feel  the  shame  of  having  their 
secret  thoughts  of  evil  exposed  to  a  light  broader 
than  that  of  day  (Mt  23^).  This  will  be  the  con- 
demnation to  perpetual  darkness  for  those  who 
have  loved  darkness  more  than  the  light  (Mt  8'- 
2213  258»). 

But  in  this  present  life  there  is  always  at  work 
a  certain  inevitable  and  automatic  Divine  con- 
demnation. 'The  earth  beareth  fruit  of  herself 
{avToiaaTT),  Mk  4^),  and  yet  the  fact  is  due  to  the 
directing  will  of  God.  So,  even  in  this  life,  the 
Divine  condemnation  of  evil  is  being  worked  out, 
without  that  irrevocable  sentence  which  consti- 
tutes the  final  condemnation.  The  guest  may 
already  feel  the  lack  of  a  wedding-garment  (Mt 
22"),  and  so,  warned  by  the  present  workings  of 
condemnation,  escape  the  last  dread  sentence. 
Nothing  but  what  God  approves  can  endure  the 
stresses  and  storms  that  are  imminent  (Lk  6^*"'"). 
Without  the  sap  of  God's  favour  the  \ine  must 
already  begin  to  wither  (.Jn  15*). 

But  this  present  immanent  condemnation  is 
rather  a  most  merciful  conviction  of  sin  and 
wrongfulness  (Jn  IG""").  In  this  present  age  con- 
demnation is  not  final  for  any  ;  nay,  God's  purpose 
is  the  eternal  security  of  men  in  true  peace  and 
true  happiness  (Jn  3"  12^').  So  far  from  condem- 
nation l)eing  any  man's  sure  fate,  there  is  no  need 
for  any  member  of  the  human  family  to  have  to 
undergo  such  judgment  as  might  result  in  condem- 
nation (Jn  5^).  The  strong  assertion  in  the  pre- 
sent ending  to  the  second  Gospel,  '  He  that  dis- 
believeth  shall  be  condemned'  (Mk  16'"),  is  surely 
the  expression  of  the  ti-ue  conviction  that  Christ  is 
the  only  Way  to  avoid  condemnation  (cf.  Jn  3^). 
Condemnation  is  God's  prerogative,  and  not  the 
privilege  or  duty  of  tlio  individual  Christian  as 
such :  '  Condemn  not,  and  ye  shall  not  be  con- 
demnetl '  (Lk  6").  W.  B.  Feaxkl.AND. 

CONFESSION  (of  Christ).— The  words  'confess' 
and  '  confession '  are  emnloj-ed  in  common  usage 
to  express  not  only  an  acknowledgment  of  sin,  but 
an  acknowledgment  or  profession  of  faith.  The 
AV  affords  many  illustrations  of  this  use,  and  the 
examples  are  still  more  numerous  in  the  RV, 
whicli  in  several  passages  has  quite  consistently 
substituted  'confess'  and  'confession'  for  'pro- 
fess'and  '  profession '  of  the  A  V  in  the  rendering 
of  o/jioXoyeu,  ofioXoyla  (2  Co  9",  1  Ti  6'%  He  3'  4" 
10=^).  A  coiTesponding  twofold  use  of  terms  meets 
us  in  the  original,  the  verbs  iinoXoy^u  and  e^o/io- 
\o7«ai  being  used  to  denote  lx)th  confession  of  sin 
and  confession  of  faith  (e.ff.  for  6/io\oyiu,  Mt  W- 
and  1  Jn  1' ;  for  ^ioij.o\oyeoi,  Mt  3"  and  Ja  5'*).  The 
noun  6iu.o\oyia,  however,  in  NT  Greek  is  employed 
only  with  refen-ucu  to  i\n;  confession  of  faith. 

In  the  'IT  I  '     ,,ili  who  is  the  personal 

object  of   I  .if  faith  which  Ave  find 

on  the  lip  md  prophets  {e.g.  Ps  7' 

48",  Is  I'J-  h,         ,  ,  „)  ;  but  in  the  NT  it  is 

Jesus  Christ  whom  men  .ue  constantly  challenged 
to  confess,  and  it  is  around  His  person  that  the 
confession  of  faith  invariably  gathers.  This  lies 
in  the  very  nature  of  the  case,  since  personal  faith 
in  Jesus  Christ  constitutes  the  essence  of  Chris- 
tianity, and  confession  is  the  necessary  utterance 
of  faith  (Ro  10'°,  cf.  Mt  123^''). 

i.    AViIAT    IS     MKAXT     I'.V    THE     CONFESSIOX     OF 

Christ.— In  the  earlier  period  of  the  ministry  of 


Jesus  the  faith  of  His  followers  did  not  rise  above 
the  belief  that  He  was  the  long-expected  Messiah  ; 
and  it  was  this  conviction  which  was  expressed  in 
their  confessions.  Typical  at  this  stage  are  the 
words  of  Andrew,  'We  have  found  the  Messiah' 
(Jn  1^').  It  is  true  that  even  in  this  earlier  period 
Jesus  is  sometimes  addressed  or  spoken  of  as  the 
'Son  of  God'  (Jn  l**-*,  Mt  S^\i  14®) ;  but  it  is  not 
probable  that  in  these  cases  we  are  to  understand 
the  expression  otherwise  than  as  a  recognized 
Messianic  term  (cf.  Ps  2"),  .so  that  it  does  not 
amount  to  more  than  a  recognition  that  Jesus  is 
the  Christ.  And  yet  even  this  was  a  great  thing — 
to  see  in  the  man  of  Nazareth  the  Messiah  of 
propJiecy  and  hope.  It  marked  the  dividing  line 
between  those  who  believed  in  Jesus  and  those 
who  believed  Him  not.  St.  John  tells  us  that  the 
Jews  had  agreed  that  if  any  man  should  confess 
Jesus  to  be  Christ,  he  should  be  put  out  of  the 
synagogue  (Jn  9--) ;  that  they  actually  cast  out,  for 
making  such  a  confession,  the  blind  man  whom 
Jesus  had  cured  (9*^) ;  and  that  through  fear  of 
excommunication  many  of  the  chief  rulers  who 
believed  in  His  Messiahship  refrained  from  the 
confession  of  their  faith  (12^^).  It  was  no  small 
thing  to  confess  that  Jesus  was  the  Christ,  crude 
and  unspiritual  in  most  cases  as  the  notions  of  His 
Messiahship  might  still  be. 

But  in  the  minds  of  the  Apostles,  though  crude 
ideas  were  far  from  vanishing  altogether  (cf.  Mt 
202»'-,  Mk  10^»,  Lk  22=^),  there  had  gradually  grown 
up  a  larger  and  deeper  conception  of  their  Master's 
person  and  dignity ;  and  St.  Peter's  grand  utter- 
ance at  Cresarea  Philippi,  'Thou  art  the  Christ, 
the  Son  of  the  living  God'  (Mt  16'«|| ;  cf.  Jn  e''^), 
shows  a  great  extension  of  spiritual  content  in  the 
confession  of  Christ,  as  our_Lord's  langua^'e  on  the 
occasion 

seems  to  i  _ 

Christ's  divinity ;  and  it  formed  the  high-water 
mark  of  Apostolic  faith  and  profession  in  the  pre- 
Resurrection  days. 

After  the  Resurrection  had  taken  place,  faith  in 
that  transcendent  fact,  and  readiness  to  Ijear 
witness  to  it,  were  henceforth  implied  in  the  con- 
fession of  Christ  (Jn  20=s-==',  Ro  10»).  But  while 
any  profession  of  faith  would  have  as  its  implicate 
the  acceptance  of  the  great  facts  of  tlie  historical 
tradition,  all  that  was  actually  demanded  of  con- 
verts at  first  may  have  been  the  confession,  '  Jesus 
is  Lord'  (ICo  12^  cf.  Ph  2",  2  Ti  1») :  a  confes- 
sion of  which  an  echo  perhaps  meets  us  in  their 
being  baptized  '  into  (or  in)  the  name  of  the  Lord ' 
(el's  7-A  fivojita  toO  Kvpiov  'ItjctoD,  Ac  8""  19* ;  in  t<^  dvdftaTi 
ToO  Kvpiov,  10**).  At  a  later  time  the  gi-owth  of 
heretical  opinions  rendered  it  necessary  to  formu- 
late the  beliefs  of  the  Church  more  exactly,  and  to 
demand  a  fuller  and   more  precise  confession  on 


Ijlainly  implies.     The  Apostle's  language 
I  enfold,  in  germ  at  least,  the  doctrine  of 


the  part  of  tliose 


be  Christ's 


disciples.  In  the  Johannine  Epistles  a  confession 
on  the  one  hand  that  '  Jesus  Christ  is  come  in  the 
flesh'  (1  Jn  4--^,  2  Jn '),  and  on  the  other  that 
'  Jesus  is  the  Son  of  God  '  (1  Jn  4"),  is  represented 
as  essential  to  the  evidence  of  a  true  and  saving 
Christian  faith.  With  this  developed  .Johannine 
type  of  confession  may  be  compared  the  later  gloss 
that  has  been  attached  to  the  narrative  of  the 
baptism  of  the  Ethiopian  eunuch  (Ac  8",  see 
RVm),  which  is  not  improbably  the  reproduction 
of  a  formula  of  question  and  answer  which  had 
lome  to  be  employed  as  a  bajitismal  confession  in 
the  early  Church. 

It  may  be  noticed  here  that  it  was  out  of  the  confession  of 
personal  faith  which  wasdemanded  of  the  candidate  for  Itaptisni 
that  the  formulated  'Confessions 'of  the  Church  appear  to  have 
sprang.  There  can  be  little  doubt  that  the  so-called  Apostles' 
Creed  was  originally  a  baptismal  confession.  And  Hort,  Har- 
nack.  and  others  have  shown  that  what  is  known  as  the  Nicene 
t^reed  is  in  reality  not  tlie  original  creed  of  the  bishops  of 


COlfFESSIOJf  (OF  CHRIST) 


CONFESSiOjr  (OF  CHRIST)      359 


Kicsea,  but  a  creed  which  gradually  grew  up  in  the  East  out  of 
the  strugKlea  of  the  Church  vvitli  varying  shapes  of  heresy, 
and  the  nucleus  of  which  is  probably  to  bo  sought  in  the 
baptismal  formula  of  the  Jerusalem  Church  (Uort,  Two  Disser- 
tations, ii.  ;  Harnaok,  Hislnni  «/  Dopma,  iii.  209;  Herzog- 
Hauck,  RealeiicykL,  art.  ' Konstantinopolitanisches  Symbol')- 

ii.  The  importance  attached  to  the  con- 
fession OF  Christ.— We  see  this  (1)  in  the  tr.ach- 
ing  of  Christ  Him.iclf.  He  showed  the  value  He 
set  upon  it  not  only  by  tlie  deep  solemnity  of  His 
affirmations  upon  tlie  suljject,  but  by  e.xpressing 
the  truth  in  a  double  form,  both  positively  anil 
negatively,  declaring  that  the  highest  conceiv- 
able honour  awaits  every  one  who  confesses  Him 
before  men,  and  the  doom  of  unspeakable  shame 
all  those  who  are  guilty  of  denying  Him  (Mt 
1032-33,  Lk  12H-'-';  cf.  Mk  8'S).  We  see  it  in  the 
pathos  of  the  warning  He  gave  St.  Peter  of 
the  approaching  denial  (Mt  26**;  cf.  Mk  H^",  Lk 
223^,  Jn  1338),  in  t,|,g  \qq\^  jjg  ^ast  upon  him 
when  the  crowing  of  the  cock  recalled  that  warn- 
ing to  his  mind  (Lk  22"'),  in  the  Apostle's  bitter 
tears  as  he  remembered  and  thought  upon  the 
word  of  the  Lord  (Mt  26-',  Mk  14'=,  Lk  22«'-«''), 
and  in  the  thrice  repeated  'Lovest  thou  me?' 
(Jn  21"-")  recalling  the  thrpi'b.M  iinii>L'r''ssion. 
But,  above  all,  we  see  it  in  tin'  nnnN  .'nMii'ssed 
at  CfEsarca  Philippi  to  tliis  sam:  ApM-ilr,  who, 
though  afterwards  he  fell  .so  l;u-  m  :\.n  liuur  of 
weakness,  rose  nevertheless  on  thi.s  ojcasioii  to 
the  height  of  a  f;lorious  confession  (Mt  16"-''). 
The  evident  emotion  of  Jesus  at  St.  I'eter's  lan- 
guage, the  thrill  of  glad  surprise  which  seems  to 
have  shot  through  Him  and  which  quivers  through 
the  benediction  into  which  He  burst,  the  great 
benediction  itself, — these  things  show  the  supreme 
worth  He  attached  to  this  confession  of  His  strong 
Apostle.  But  especially  we  see  the  signihcance  of 
St.  Peter's  utterance  in  the  everlasting  promise 
which  Christ  then  gave  not  to  him  merely,  but  to 
all  who  should  hereafter  believe  on  His  name  and 
confess  Him  after  a  like  fashion :  '  Upon  this 
rock  I  will  build  m;y  Church,  and  the  gates  of 
Hades  shall  not  prevail  against  it'  (v.'").  Whetlier 
the  '  rock '  is  St.  Peter's  confession  or  St.  Peter 
himself  is  a  matter  of  little  moment ;  for  if  the 
latter  is  meant,  it  is  undoubtedly  as  a  type  of 
believing  confession  that  the  Apostle  receives  the 
splendid  promise,  and  it  is  on  the  firm  foundation 
of  such  confession  as  his  tliat  Jesus  declares  that 
His  Church  shall  be  built. 

The  view  of  a  cert.iin  cb.ss  of  crili<;,l  ~, ;  •  ■■  i  •  ■  IMtz- 
mann,  Zeitsehr.  f.  wiss.  Theol.  xxi.  p.  "  '  i'  :  i  IH-^lnrij 
of  Dogma,,  i.p.T)n.2\\\mA\,.  Teaclii,,  ,  .,  :  ..l  n.) 

that  Mt  161*-  are  not  authentic  ult.i  ■  Imt  a 

subsequent  addition  intended  to  cain •.■  ihr  .[..jmiiic  and 

constitutional  situation  of  a  later  age.  is  not  one  that  com- 
mends itself  to  those  who  do  not  accept  the  views  as  to  the 
composition  of  the  First  Gospel  which  are  represented  by  these 
writers  and  by  Holtzmann  in  particular.  There  is  no  textual 
ground  for  objecting  to  the  authenticity  of  the  words,  while 
there  are  very  strong  psychological  grounds  for  accepting  such 
words  as  true.  See  the  admirable  remarks  of  Prof.  Bruce, 
Expos.  Gr.  Test.,  in  loo. 

(2)  If  Jesus  laid  great  stress  upon  the  confession 
of  Himself,  the  importance  of  such  confession  is 
not  less  prominent  in  the  teaching  of  the  Apostles. 
Even  if  baptism  '  into  the  name  of  tlie  Lord  Jesus ' 
did  not  imply  an  explicit  confession  of  Jesus  as 
Lord  (though  this  seems  by  no  means  improbable), 
at  all  events  the  Christian  baptism  which  meets 
us  constantly  from  the  earliest  days  of  the  Church 
(Acts,  passim)  clearly  involved,  in  the  relations  of 
Christianity  whether  to  the  Jewish  or  the  Gentile 
world,  a  confessing  of  Christ  before  men.  St. 
Paul  makes  very  plain  his  conviction  that,  in  order 
to  salvation,  believing  with  the  heart  must  be 
accompanied  by  confession  with  the  mouth  (Ro 
lO"- "),  though  he  also  enlarges  our  conception  of 
the  forms  which  confession  may  take  when  he 
linds  a  confession  of  the  Christian  gospel  not  only 


in  words  spoken  but  in  liberal  gifts  cheerfully 
bestowed  for  the  service  of  the  Church  (2  Co  9"). 
In  1  Timothy  he  commends  the  young  minister  of 
the  Church  in  Ephesus  because  lae  had  '  confessed 
the  good  confession  in  the  sight  of  many  witnesses' 
(6'-),  and  finds  in  this  matter  the  perfect  example 
for  Christian  imitation  in  the  'good  confession' 
which  Clirist  Jesus  Himself  witnes.sed  before  Pon- 
tius Pilate  (v.'3) ;  w'hile  in  2  Tiuiothy  we  have  an 
evident  reecho  of  the  Lord's  own  language  in  the 
warning,  '  If  we  shall  deny  him,  he  also  will  deny 
usM2'=). 

In  the  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews  Jesus  is  described 
as  '  the  Apostle  and  High  Priest  of  our  confession  ' 
(3'),  and  that  confession  the  author  exhorts  his 
readers  to  hold  fast  (4'''  10=3).  j^,  j^ijg  Joliannine 
Epistles,  as  we  have  seen,  confession  begins  to 
assume  a  more  theological  form  than  heretofore, 
but  the  writer  is  not  less  emphatic  than  tho.'^e  who 
have  preceded  him  in  insisting  upon  its  spiritual 
value.  In  one  place  it  is  said  to  be  the  prool  of 
the  presence  of  the  Spirit  of  God  (1  Jn  4-),  and  in 
another  it  becomes  not  the  proof  merely,  but  the 
very  condition  of  the  abiding  of  man  in  God  and 
God  in  man  (v.^*). 

iii.  The  reason  for  the  importance  attached 
to  confession.— When  we  ask  why  such  supreme 
value  is  set  upon  confession  by  Christ  and  His 
Apostles  and  all  through  the  NT,  there  are  various 
considerations  which  suggest  themselves.  (1)  Con- 
fession is  nothing  else  than  the  obverse  side  nf  faith. 
The  two  necessarily  go  tojjether,  for  they  are 
really  one  and  the  same  spiritual  magnitude  in 
its  inward  and  outward  aspects.  The  word  of 
faith,  as  St.  Paul  says,  is  at  once  in  the  mouth 
and  in  the  heart  (Ro  10*),  and  whatever  value 
belongs  to  faith  as  a  vital  and  saving  power  neces- 
sarily belongs  to  confession  also.  (2)  It  is  the 
evidence  of  faith.  Like  all  living  things,  faith 
must  give  evidence  of  itself,  and  confession  is  one 
of  its  most  certain  and  convincing  signs.  Accord- 
ing to  St.  Paul,  it  belongs  to  the  very  spirit  of 
faith  to  believe  and  therefore  to  speak  (2  Co  4") ; 
and  if  the  readiness  to  confess  Christ  begins  to 
fail,  we  may  take  it  as  a  sure  evidence  that  faith 
itself  is  failing.  How  significant  here  are  the 
words  of  Jesus  to  St.  Peter  just  before  He  warned 
him  of  the  sifting  trial  whieh  was  near  at  hand, 
'  Simon,  Simon,  behold  Satan  asked  to  have  you 
that  he  might  sift  you  as  wheat :  but  I  made  sup- 
plication for  thee  that  thy  faith  fail  not'  (Lk 
2231-  52)^  (3)  jf  j^  „  f^gf  gj  courage  and  devotion. 
A  hard  test  it  often  is ;  witness  St.  Peter's  fall. 
But  it  is  liy  hard  trials  that  the  soldier  of  Christ 
learns  to  endure  hardness,  and  gains  the  unflinch- 
ing strength  which  enables  him  to  confess  the 
good  confession  in  the  sight  of  many  witnesses 
(1  Ti  6'^),  and  not  be  ashamed  of  the  testimony  of 
our  Lord  (2  Ti  1*).  (4)  It  has  a  wonderful  poiver  to 
quicken  faith.  It  both  begets  faith  and  quickens 
faith  in  others,  as  we  shall  see  presently ;  but 
what  we  are  speaking  of  now  is  its  reactive  in- 
fluence upon  the  believer  himself.  It  is  a  matter 
of  common  experience  that  nothing  transforms 
pale  belief  into  strong  full-blooded  conviction  like 
the  confession  of  belief  in  the  presence  of  others. 
Something  is  due  to  the  shaping  power  of  speech 
upon  thought,  but  even  more  to  the  definite  com- 
mittal of  oneself  before  one's  fellows,  and  the 
kindling  influences  which  come  from  the  contact 
of  soul  with  soul.  And  it  is  not  till  men  have 
publicly  confessed  their  belief  in  Christ  that  faith 
rises  to  its  highest  power,  so  that  '  belief  unto 
righteousness'  becomes  'confession  unto  salva- 
tion '  (Ro  10'").  It  is  to  the  psychological  ex- 
periences that  were  naturally  attendant  on  the 
public  confession  of  Christ  that  we  must  attribute 
much  of  the  language  used  in  the  NT  with  regard 


3  GO  COXFESSIOJf  (OF  SIN) 


COKFESSIOX  (OF  SIN) 


to  the  eliect  of  baptism  upon  the  soul  (Ac  22'^,  Ko 
6"^-,  Gal  3",  1  Co  12",  1  P  3=')-  And  it  is  worth 
noting  how  the  author  of  Hebrews  connects  in  the 
same  sentence  holding  fast  '  the  confession  of  our 
hope'  and  drawing  near  to  God  in  'fulness'  or 
'full  assurance'  of  faith  (He  lO--^  cf.  4'^- 1«). 

(5)  But,  above  all,  the  value  attached  to  confes- 
sion in  the  NT  seems  to  lie  in  the  fact  that  it  is 
the  ffi-ciif  Chin-c/i-hiiilding poiccr.  The  grand  typi- 
cal case  of  confession  of  Clirist  is  that  of  St.  Peter 
at  C:e.-area  Pliilippi  (Mt  16'=- 1°)  ;  and  this  was  the 
occasion  on  whicli  Jesus  for  the  first  time  spoke  of 
His  Church,  and  declared  that  on  the  rock  of 
Christian  confession  that  Church  was  to  be  built 
(v.'*).  So  it  proved  to  be  in  after  days.  It  was 
by  St.  Peter's  powerful  testimony  to  Jesus  as  the 
risen  Lord  and  Christ  (.\c  2'--^)  that  3000  souls  on 
the  day  of  Pentecost  were  led  gladly  to  receive  the 
word,  and  in  baptism  to  confess  Christ  for  them- 
selves (vv.^-^').  St.  Paul  knew  the  mighty  power 
that  inheres  in  confession,  and  both  in  his  preach- 
ing and  writing  made  much  of  the  story  of  his  own 
conversion  (Ac  22«t-  iG^-"-,  Gal  l'^"-),  thereby  con- 
fessing Jesus  afresh  as  his  Saviour  and  Lord.  It 
was  above  all  else  by  the  personal  confessions  of 
humble  individuals— a  testimony  often  sealed  with 
blood  (Rev  2'^  12") — that  the  pagan  empire  of 
Kome  Avas  cast  down  and  the  Church  of  Christ 
built  upon  its  ruins.  And  it  is  still  by  personal 
confession,  in  one  form  or  another,  that  the  word 
of  the  Lord  grows  and  multiplies,  and  His  Church 
prevails  against  the  gates  of  Hades.  It  is  by 
testifying  to  Jesus  Christ  as  Lord  that  men  become 
the  ambassadors  of  Christ  to  the  souls  of  other 
men.  The  secret  of  the  influence  exerted  by  such 
confession  lies  not  only  in  the  appealing  grace  of 
the  Lord  whom  we  confess,  but  in  tlie  subtle  and 
mysterious  power  of  a  believing  and  confessing 
heart  over  its  fellow.  '  Blessed  influence  of  one 
true  loving  human  soul  on  another  !  Not  calcul- 
able by  algebra,  not  deducible  by  logic,  but 
mysterious,  effectual,  mighty  as  the  hidden  pro- 
cess by  which  the  tiny  seed  is  quickened,  and 
bursts  forth  into  tall  stem  and  broad  leaf,  and 
glowing  tasselled  flower'  (George  Eliot,  Scenes  of 
Clerical  Life,  p.  287).  J.  C.  Lambekt. 

CONFESSION  (of  sin).— In  the  OT  a  laro;e  place 
is  given  to  the  confession  of  sin,  as  being  the 
necessary  expression  of  true  penitence  and  the 
condition  at  the  same  time  of  the  Divine  forgive- 
ness. Witness  the  provisions  of  the  Mosaic  ritual 
(Lv  Si^"-),  the  utterances  of  the  penitential  and  other 
psalms  (e.g.  32*  SP"-),  and  prayers  like  those  of 
Ezra  (IQi),  Nehemiah  (1<*-'),  and  Daniel  (9^"- =«). 
It  may  surprise  us  at  first  to  find  that  in  the 
(Jospels  the  confession  of  sin  is  expressly  named 
on  only  one  occasion,  and  that  in  connexion  with 
the  ministry  of  John  the  Baptist  (f'^oMoXoyoiVfoi 
Tds  iftapTias  ai/Tuv,  Mt  3*,  Mk  1').  But  apart  from 
the  use  of  the  actual  phrase,  we  shall  see  that  the 
Gospel  narratives  take  full  account  of  the  confes- 
sion of  sin,  and  that,  as  in  the  OT,  confession  is 
recognized  both  as  the  necessary  accompaniment 
of  repentance  and  as  the  indispensable  condition 
of  forgiveness  and  restoration  to  favour,  whether 
human  or  Divine.  There  are  three  topics  which 
call  for  notice:  (1)  confession  of  sin  to  God;  (2) 
confession  of  sin  to  man  ;  (3)  Christ's  personal 
attitude  to  the  confession  of  sin. 

1.  Confession  of  sin  to  God— It  is  to  God  that 
all  confession  of  sin  is  primarily  due,  sin  being  in 
its  essential  nature  a  transgression  of  Divine  law 
(cf.  Ps  51^).  And  in  the  teaching  and  ministry  of 
Jesus  the  duty  of  confession  to  God  is  fully  recog- 
nized. Our  Lord  becrins  His  ministry  with  a  call 
to  repentance  (.Mt  4",  Mk  1").  In  the  midst  of 
His  public  career  He  charatterizes  the  generation 


to  which  He  appealed  as  an  evil  generation  be- 
cause of  its  unwillingness  to  repent  (Lk  ll^*- ^S). 
Among  His  last  words  on  earth  was  His  declara- 
tion that  the  universal  gospel  was  to  be  a  gospel 
of  repentance  and  remission  of  sins  (Lk  24'").  And 
as  confession  is  inseparable  from  true  penitence, 
being  the  form  which  the  latter  instinctively  and 
inevitably  takes  in  its  approaches  to  God,  we  may 
say  that  all  through  His  public  ministry,  by  in- 
sisting upon  the  need  of  repentance,  Jesus  taught 
the  necessity  of  the  confession  of  sin. 

But  besides  this  we  have  from  His  lips  a  good 
deal  of  direct  teaching  on  the  subject.  The  prayer 
which  He  gave  His  disciples  as  a  pattern  tor  all 
prayer  includes  a  petition  for  forgiveness  (Mt  6^', 
Lk'll^);  and  such  a  petition  is  equivalent,  of 
course,  to  a  confession  of  sin.  In  the  parable  of 
the  Prodigal  Son  the  prodigal's  first  resolution 
'  when  he  came  to  himself  '  was  to  go  to  his  father 
and  acknowledge  his  sin  (Lk  15"-  ") ;  and  his  first 
words  on  meeting  him  were  the  frank  and  humble 
confession,  '  Father,  I  have  sinned '  (v.-').  The 
parable  of  the  Pharisee  and  the  Publican,  again, 
hinges  upon  this  very  matter  of  the  acknowledg- 
ment of  sin  and  unworthiness.  It  was  the  total 
absence  of  the  element  of  confession  from  the 
Pharisee's  prayer,  and  the  presence  instead  of  a 
self-satisfied  and  self-exalting  spirit,  that  made  his 
prayer  of  no  effect  in  the  sight  of  God ;  while  it 
was  the  publican's  downcast  eyes,  his  smitten 
breast,  his  cry,  '  God  be  merciful  to  me  a  sinner  ! ' 
that  sent  him  down  to  his  house  '  justified  rather 
than  the  other '  (Lk  18'""'^  ;  cf.  the  words  of  Zac- 
chseus,  another  publican,  Lk  19'). 

Under  this  head  may  be  included  one  or  two 
cases  of  confession  of  sin  to  Christ.  When  Peter 
cries,  '  Depart  from  me  ;  for  I  am  a  sinful  man,  O 
Lord'  (Lk  5*),  and  when  the  sinful  woman  in  the 
house  of  the  Pharisee  silently  makes  confession  to 
Jesus  as  she  washes  His  feet  with  her  tears  (Lk 
7"-  ^),  it  is  too  much  to  saj'  of  these  confessions, 
in  Pliny's  language  {Ep.  x.  96)  with  regard  to  the 
hymn-singing  of  "the  early  Christians,  that  they 
were  offered  '  to  Christ  as  to  God.'  But  they  were 
certainly  made  to  one  who  was  felt  to  be  raised 
above  the  life  of  sinful  humanity,  and  to  be  the 
representative  on  earth  of  the  purity  and  grace  of 
the  heavenly  Father.* 

2.  Confession  of  sin  to  »iia»!.— According  to  the 
teaching  of  Christ  and  the  Gospels,  confession  of 
sin  should  be  made  not  only  to  God  but  to  man, 
and,  in  particular,  to  any  one  whom  we  have 
wronged.  In  Mt  5^-  "  confession  to  a  justly 
offended  brother  is  directly  enjoined  ;  and  more 
than  that,  it  is  implied  that  the  very  gifts  laid  on 
God's  altar  are  shorn  of  their  value  if  such  con- 
fession has  not  first  been  made.  In  Lk  17^  again, 
our  own  forgiveness  of  an  offender  is  made  to  de- 
pend on  his  coming  and  confessing,  'I  repent.' 
But  apart  from  this  confession  to  the  person 
wronged,  a  wider  and  more  public  confession  of 
sin  meets  us  in  the  Gospels.  The  necessity  of 
such  confession  is  implied,  for  instance,  in  our 
Lord's  denunciations  of  hypocrisy  — in  His  con- 
demnation of  the  life  of  false  pretence  (Mt  23'^)  ; 
of  the  cup  and  platter  outwardly  clean,  while  in- 
wardly full  of  extortion  and  excess  (v.**)  ;  of  the 
whited  sepulchres  fair  to  look  at,  though  festering 
with  rottenness  within  {v.^).  It  is  implied  simi- 
larly in  His  frequent  commendation  of  simplicity 
and  single-mindedness,  and  honest  tnith  in  the 
sight  both  of  God  and  man  (cf.  Mt  6~-  ^  V''  8« 


'  It  is  a  point  worth  noticing,  in  the  comparative  study  of  the 
Gospels,  that  St.  Luke,  who  is  pre-eminently  the  Evangelist  of 
salvation  for  the  sinful,  supplies  us  with  the  great  bulk  of  the 
Gospel  evidence  that  the  Divine  forgiveness  is  conditioned  by 


CONFESSION  (OF  SIN) 


CONSCIOUSNESS 


361 


It  seems  to  be  recognized  in  the  Gospels  that 
acknowledgment  of  sin  to  man  as  well  as  to  God 
has  a  cleansing  power  upon  the  soul.  There  may, 
of  course,  be  a  confession  that  is  spiritually  fruit- 
less, to  which  men  are  urged  not  by  the  godly 
sorrow  of  true  repentance,  but  by  the  goads  of 
sheer  remorse  and  despair.  Of  this  nature  was 
the  confes.sion  of  Judas  to  the  chief  priests  and 
elders  (Mt  27*,  cf.  v.').  On  the  other  hand,  the 
confession  of  the  penitent  thief  to  all  who  heard 
him  (Lk  23'")  was  the  beginning  of  that  swift  work 
of  grace  which  was  accomplished  in  his  heart 
through  the  influence  of  Jesus.  It  illustrates 
George  Eliot's  words,  '  The  purifying  influence  of 
public  confession  springs  from  the  fact  that  by  it 
the  hope  in  lies  is  for  ever  swept  away,  and  the 
soul  recovers  the  noble  attitude  of  simplicity ' 
{Boinola,  p.  87). 

3.  Christ's  personal  attitude  to  the  confession  of 
sin. — That  our  Lord  never  made  confession  to 
man,  and  never  felt  the  need  of  doing  so,  is  sufh- 
ciently  shown  by  His  challenge,  '  Which  of  you 
convicteth  me  of  sin  ? '  ( Jn  S'%  But  did  He  make 
confession  of  sin  to  God  ?  The  fact  that  John's 
baptism  was  '  the  baptism  of  repentance '  (Mk 
I'' II),  and  that  the  people  'were  baptized  of  him 
in  Jordan,  confessing  their  sins'  (Mt  3"),  together 
with  the  further  fact  that  Jesus  Himself  came  to 
the  Jordan  to  be  bajitized  (Mt  3'',  Mk  1',  Lk  3->), 
might  be  so  interpreted.  But  against  such  an 
interpretation  must  be  set  the  attitude  of  John 
both  when  Jesus  first  came  to  him  (Mt  3")  and 
afterwards  (Jn  1-'),  the  language  of  Jesus  to  tlie 
Baptist  (Mt  3'5),  the  descent  of  the  Spirit  (v.'«), 
and  the  voice  from  heaven  (v.").  The  baptism  of 
John,  we  must  remember,  had  more  than  one 
aspect :  it  was  not  only  the  baptism  of  repent- 
ance, but  the  baptism  of  preparation  for  the  ap- 
proaching kingdom  of  heaven  (Mt  3=)  and  of 
consecration  to  its  service  (Lk  3'"'").  It  is  not 
as  an  act  of  confession,  but  as  one  of  self-consecra- 
tion (including,  it  may  be,  an  element  of  sympa- 
thetic self-humiliation,  cf.  Ph  2^),  that  the  baptism 
of  Jesus  is  to  be  regarded.  He  liad  no  sins  to  con- 
fess, but  He  knew  that  John  was  the  prophet 
divinely  commissioned  to  inaugurate  the  kingdom 
of  righteousness  (cf.  Mt  2P-),  and  to  inaugurate  it 
by  the  rite  of  baptism  (Mt  21-'  ||).  And'by  sub- 
mitting Himself  to  John's  baptism  He  was  openly 
dedicating  Himself  to  the  work  of  that  kingdom, 
and  taking  up  His  task  of  fulfilling  all  righteous- 
ness (Mt  y^).  (See  Sanday  in  Hastings'  DB  ii. 
611  ;  Lambert,  Saeraments  in  NT,  p.  62  f.  ;  Expos. 
Times,  xi.  [1900]  354). 

But,  above  all,  it  is  to  be  noted  that  while  Jesus 
taught  His  disciples  to  pray  for  the  forgiveness  of 
sins,  we  never  find  Him  humbling  Himself  before 
God  on  account  of  sin,  and  asking  to  be  forgiven. 
And  the  complete  silence  of  the  Gospels  upon  this 
point  acquires  a  fuller  significance  when  we  ob- 
serve that  there  is  not  the  slightest  evidence  that 
He  ever  engaged  in  common  prayer  with  the 
Apostles.  When  Jesus  prayed  to  the  Father,  He 
seems  always  to  have  prayed  alone  (Mt  14-^  26^''  II, 
Lk  9i«  111 ;  cf.  Jn  17,  where  He  prays  in  the  pre- 
sence of  the  disciples,  but  not  witli  them).  The 
reason  probably  was  that  while  the  attitude  of  a 
sinful  suppliant  and  the  element  of  confession, 
whether  uttered  or  unexpressed,  are  indispensable 
to  the  acceptableness  of  ordinary  liuman  prayer, 
these  could  find  no  place  in  the  prayers  of  Jesus. 
(See  Dale,  Christian  Doctrine,  p.  1(15  f.  ;  Forrest, 
Christ  of  History  and  of  Experience,  pp.  22  ll'., 
385  f.,  Expos.  Times,  xi.  [1900]  352  ff.). 

Literature. -Young's  Analyt.  Concord.  s.v.\  Hastings'  DB, 
art.  Confession  ' ;  Ullmann,  Sirdessness  of  Jems,  p.  B'J  It. ;  and 
for  special  points  the  works  quoted  in  the  article. 

J.  C.  Lambert. 


CONSCIOUSNESS.— We  have  to  consider,  so  far 
as  the  facts  rocnrded  in  the  Gospels  permit,  our 
Lord's  consciousness  of  Himself  and  of  His  mission. 
The  subject  is  diHicult.  It  is  beset  by  perplexing 
psychological  and  theological  problems.  It  also 
demands  very  careful  treatment,  for  it  opens  up 
discussions  which  may  soon  pass  beyond  the  limits 
prescribed  by  reverence.  We  shall  be  guided  by 
the  following  division  : — 
I.  The  data,  as  found  in  the  Gospels. 

i.  Certain  narratives  that  reveal  the  consciousness  of  Jesus. 

ji.  The  implications  involved  in  His  teaching  generally,  and 
in  the  impression  He  produced  upon  His  disciples. 
II.  Ps.vchological  problems. 

i.  Growth. 

ii.  The  Divine  consciousness  and  the  human. 

iii.  Knowledge  and  ignorance. 
III.  Theological  results. 

i.  Uniqueness  of  our  Lord's  personality. 

ii.  His  Divinity. 

1.  The  Gospel  Data.— i.  Narratives  revealing 
the  consciousness  of  Jesus. — 1.  Among  the  narra- 
tives which,  in  a  specially  clear  way,  reveal  our 
Lord's  consciousness,  one  of  the  most  remarkable 
refers  to  a  very  early  period  of  His  life.  St.  Luke 
tells  us  (2'""'^)  of  His  visit  to  Jerusalem  at  the  age 
of  twelve  years.  When,  after  long  searching.  He 
is  found  in  the  Temple,  and  His  mother  questions 
Him,  'Why  hast  thou  thus  dealt  with  us?'  His 
reply  shows  plainly  that  extraordinary  realization 
of  God  which  is  the  most  outstanding  characteristic 
of  His  consciousness :  '  How  is  it  that  ye  sought 
me  ?  Wist  ye  not  that  I  must  be  in  my  Father's 
house  ? '  (or,  '  about  my  Father's  business,'  eV  tois  to5 
Trarpos  /non).  Here  is  evident  the  work  of  the  child's 
imagination,  in  which  the  dominant  idea  controls 
absolutely  everything  el.se,  and  the  most  unlikely 
events  appear  perfectly  natural :  '  How  is  it  that 
ye  sought  me  V '  What  is  extraordinary  is  the 
nature  of  this  dominant  idea.  Already,  at  the  age 
of  twelve,  our  Lord  knows  God  as  His  Father,  and 
that  in  a  manner  so  intimate  and  so  peculiar  that 
ordinary  human  relationships  are  as  nothing  in 
comparison  with  the  relation  to  God.  The  doing 
of  God's  will  is  already  the  supreme  motive.  It  is 
to  be  noted  also  how  tho  '  mi/  l':itlifr '  of  His  reply 
contrasts  with  the  '  f/i//  l;il  lui  '  .if  M.iry's  question. 
It  is  perhaps  more  nalur.il  to  ii';;,iia  this  as  the 
inevitable  reaction  of  Hi-  cnii-.  i.Misness  than  as  a 
deliberate  correction  of  lli.'^  inuihrr.  If  so,  it  is  all 
the  more  impressive.  It  -li(i\\s  hi.w  fundamental 
was  the  position  in  His  mind  cil  the  filial  relation 
in  which  He  stood  to  Goil.  How  unlike  this  was 
to  the  Jewish  mind  of  the  time  is  shown  by  St. 
Luke's  statement  about  Joseph  and  Mary  :  '  They 
understood  not  the  saying  which  he  spake  unto 
them.' 

2.  The  Baptism  occupies  an  important  place  in 
the  data  of  our  subject.  It  is  clear  that  all  the 
Evangelists  intend  to  point  out  that  our  Lord's 
baptism  was  unlike  all  others  performed  by  John 
the  Baptist.  It  was  not  a  baptism  of  repentance. 
This  is  most  clearly  shown  in  St.  Matthew's  ac- 
count. John  felt  the  difficulty  and  '  would  have 
hindered  him,  saying,  I  have  need  to  be  baptized 
of  thee,  and  comest  thou  to  me  ?  But  Jesus  answer- 
ing said  unto  him,  Sutler  it  now;  for  thus  it  be- 
cometh  us  to  fulfil  all  righteousness.  Then  he 
sufi'ered  him.'  John  discerned  the  incongruity, 
and  our  Lord  acknowledged  It,  but  gave  a  reason 
which  showed  how  distinctly  He  realized  His 
unique  position  and  calling.  The  baptism  was 
part  of  God's  will  for  Him.  It  had  a  necessary 
place  in  His  life  and  work.  It  is  also  noteworthy 
that  the  descent  of  the  Spirit  and  the  voice  from 
heaven  are  stated  by  St.  Mark  to  have  been  mani- 
fested to  our  Lord  Himself.  With  this  St.  Matthew 
and  St.  Luke  agree.  Only  from  St.  John  do  we 
learn  that  the  Baptist  shared  the  experience.  In 
view  of  what  has  gone  before,  we  cannot  look  upon 


CONSCIOUSNESS 


CONSCIOUSNESS 


this  event  as  the  beginning  of  our  Lord's  know- 
ledge of  His  unique  Sonship.  It  was,  rather,  an 
objective  Divine  confirmation  of  the  truths  whicli 
He  already  knew  from  the  testimony  of  His  inner 
consciousness.  It  was  manifested  to  Himself  and 
to  the  Baptist  when  the  time  had   come  for  tlie 

fublic  proclamation  of  the  gospel  of  the  Kingdom, 
t  was  a  witness  to  His  Sonship,  'Thou  art  my 
beloved  Son ' ;  to  His  sinlessness,  '  in  thee  I  am 
well  pleased ' ;  and  to  His  Messiahship,  '  He  saw 
the  heavens  rent  asunder,  and  the  Spirit  as  a  dove 
descending  upon  him '  (see  Is  42'). 

Careful  study  of  the  Gospels  shows  that  these 
three  elements  in  our  Lord's  consciousness  are 
those  which  are  disclosed  most  frequently  in  His 
life  and  teaching. 

Some  able  students  (e.u.  Wendt,  Teachinr)  ofJe$us,  i.  p.  06 ff., 
Kng.  tr.)  think  that  at  the  Baptism  Jesus  first  attained  to  the 
consciousness  of  His  Messialiship,  thou^^h  already  aware  of  His 
Sonship.  But,  as  has  just  been  pointed  out,  the  answer  which 
He  grave  to  John  the  Baptist  reveals  a  fully  developed  sense, 
not  merely  of  His  sinlessness  and  relation  to  God,  but  of  His 
mission.  The  testimony  of  even  one  Evangelist  (St.  Matthew) 
on  a  point  lilie  this  is  superior,  as  evidence,  to  any  amount  of 
psychological  speculation. 

3.  The  Temptation  of  our  Lord,  following  im- 
mediately (Mk  l'^)  after  His  Baptism,  shows  tlie 
nature  of  the  internal  conflict  which  He  had  to 
face  when  He  set  about  the  work  of  His  life. 
There  was  no  struggle  with  doubt  as  regards  God, 
or  Himself,  or  the  end  which  He  sought.  The 
force  of  every  temptation  depended  indeed  on  the 
clearness  with  which  these  were  realized.  His 
victory  was  an  overcoming  of  the  tendency  to 
escape  from  the  limitation,  the  lowliness,  and  tlie 
self-sacrifice  whicli,  to  human  tliought,  seem  so 
unlieconiinL'  tiic  Son  of  God  in  His  great  work  of 
estalili-hiii-  ll..'  Kingdom. 

It  is  iiii|iii~>ililL-  ill  tlie  short  space  available  here 
to  deal  witli  all  the  definite  instances  of  self-revela- 
tion which  are  given  in  the  four  Gospels.  It  must 
suffice  to  dwell  briefly  upon  a  few  of  the  more 
remarkable,  and  to  mention  such  of  the  rest  as 
cannot  be  omitted.  It  may  be  added  that,  to  those 
who  have  really  considered  the  question,  almost 
every  incident  in  our  Lord's  life  is,  in  some  way  or 
other,  a  manifestation  of  His  superhuman  con- 
sciousness. 

4.  One  of  the  most  noteworthy  instances  is  that 
given  by  St.  Matthew  (IP'^)  and  by  St.  Luke 
(lO^'"-).  St.  Luke  introduces  the  passage  with  the 
remarkable  words,  '  In  that  same  hour  he  rejoiced 
in  the  Holy  Spirit,  and  said.'  It  is  a  proof  tliat  the 
Apostles  recognized  our  Lord's  utterance  on  this 
occasion  as  the  open  expression  of  His  communion 
with  God.  The  insight  into  the  heart  of  God, 
which  was  the  secret  of  the  inner  life  of  Jesus, 
finds  here  such  utterance  as  human  language  can 
give  it.  He  addresses  God  as  '  Father,  Lord  of 
heaven  and  earth,'  a  great  expression  which  fore- 
shadows the  truth  whicli  follows :  '  All  things 
have  been  delivered  unto  me  of  my  Father;  and 
no  one  knowetli  tlie  Son,  save  the  Father  ;  neither 
doth  any  know  tli"  I 'at  her.  s.ave  the  Son,  and  he 
to  whomsoi'vi  1  I  ho  Son  willeth  to  reveal  him' 
(Mt  11=").  It  i>  iiiii.o^iMo  to  e.xaggerate  the  im- 
portance of  tliese  «oi<l^.  They  contain  four  great 
assertions  about  our  Lord  and  His  work:  (1)  His 
universal  authority  ;  (2)  the  mystery  of  His  person, 
known  in  its  fulness  to  the  Father  only  ;  (3)  the 
tinique  relation  of  tlie  Son  to  the  Father,  as  in- 
volved in  the  Son's  perfect  knowledge  of  the 
Father ;  (4)  the  knowledge  of  the  Father,  so  far  as 
it  is  possible  to  man,  is  to  be  liad  only  througli 
tlie  Son.  This  short  passage  contains  "the  w^hole 
f'hristology  of  the  Fourth  Gospel.  It  records  f(ir 
us  an  occasion  when  our  Lord  permitted  His 
hearers  to  gain  some  insight  into  His  conscious- 
ness of  God,  of  Himself,  and  of  H' 


Among  the  many  important  pas.'-.ages  which 
agree  with  those  which  have  been  discussed,  may 
be  mentioned  the  following:  (1)  The  account  of 
our  Lord's  reception  of  the  disciples  of  John  the 
Baptist  who  brought  their  master's  doubts  to  Him 
for  solution  (Mt  ll-"''  and  Lk  7'"-=^).  Here  our 
Lord's  perfect  confidence  in  His  mission  is  ob- 
viously based  upon  His  consciousness.  The  con- 
trast with  the  intensely  human  searchings  of  heart 
displajed  by  John  in  his  time  of  trial  is  very 
striking.  (2)  The  narrative  which  includes  the 
confession  of  St.  Peter  and  the  teaching  which 
followed  it  (Mt  10""-,  Mk  8-""-,  Lk  Q'^"-).  The 
announcement  of  His  approaching  death  and  the 
tremendous  terms  in  which  He  claims  the  utmost 
self-.sacrifice  from  His  disciples,  give  an  extra- 
ordinary depth  to  the  revelation  of  our  Lord's 
self-knowleclge  contained  in  this  narrative.  (3) 
Every  incident  and  every  teaching  belonging  to 
the  last  period  of  the  ministry  reveals  the  over- 
powering intensity  of  His  consciousness  of  the 
mission  which  Heliad  to  fulfil  and  of  its  depend- 
ence upon  Himself.  All  the  circumstances  or  His 
public  entry  into  Jerusalem  are  notable  in  this 
respect  (Mt  21'-«  Mk  ll'"",  Lk  19^",  Jn  12'=-"; 
see  especially  vv.^'-  ■">•  *^-"^  in  St.  Luke's  account). 
(4)  His  answers  to  those  who  questioned  His 
authority  (Mt  21-^-"'^,  Mk  11='-12'-,  Lk  20'-'")  are 
equally  impressive.  The  parable  of  the  Wicked 
Husbandmen,  which  is  given  in  all  the  Synoptic 
Gospels,  is  very  striking,  as  showing  how  our  Lord 
made  an  essential  distinction  between  Himself  and 
all  other  messengers  of  God.  (5)  The  description 
of  the  Future  Judgment  (Mt  25"""',  cf.  Mk  8»», 
which  shows  the  same  conception,  and  proves  that 
the  idea  is  not  peculiar  to  St.  Matthew  among  the 
Synoptists),  contains  as  lofty  a  conception  of  the 
dignity  of  the  Son  as  any  passage  in  the  Fourth ' 
Go.spel :  'Then  shall  the  king  say'  (vv.3'-  *).  What 
a  depth  of  consciousness  is  involved  in  the  words, 
'  ye  did  it  unto  me '  and  '  ye  did  it  not  to  me ' 

It  would  be  possible  to  give  many  more  instances 
almost  as  impressive.  The  fact  is  important,  as 
showing  that  here  we  are  dealing  with  an  essential 
element  in  the  Gospel  history.  So  far  our  instances 
have  been  tal^cii  from  the  Synoptic  Gospels,  and 
mainly  from  narratives  \\hichare  common  to  them 
all.  When  we  turn  to  St.  John,  we  find  the  self- 
revelation  of  Christ  on  e\  ery  page,  almost  in  every 
paragraph.  See,  as  examples,  Jn  P'  2"'  4''  S"-*" 
6:j8-42.6i.fe  814.46.  (ginlessncss) »  10'«  12"- '"  13»  U'J- '» 
etc.  The  climax  is  reached  in  ch.  17,  in  which  we 
are  admitted  to  the  sanctuary  in  which  the  Son 
pours  out  His  heart  in  the  presence  of  His  Father. 
Here  are  evident  all  the  elements  already  noted  as 
peculiar  to  our  Lord's  thought  about  Himself  and 
His  mission  :  His  unique  Sonshij),  His  sinlessness, 
His  Messiahship,  His  universal  authority,  the 
mystery  of  His  relation  to  the  Father. 

ii.  Implications  of  His  teaching  and  the  impres- 
sion He  produced.  —  When  we  come  to  consider 
how  this  consciousness  is  implied  in  His  teachin" 
generally  and  in  His  eft'ect  upon  mankind,  we  find 
ourselves  face  to  face  with  a  mass  of  materials  so 
great  that  selection  becomes  very  difficult.  It 
must  suffice  to  point  out  certain  classes  of  facts — 

1.  His  mode  of  thinking  and  speaking  about 
God.  God  is,  for  Him,  '  the  Father.'  Sometimes, 
with  clear  reference  to  His  own  unique  relation- 
ship, our  Lord  calls  God  'my  Father'  (Mt  7'-' 
103:.  au  1127  1617  i8ii..35_  jiic  83«  13»--,  Lk  10=2  22=",  Jn 
5"  6^=  8'^  and  throughout  clis.  14-17,  etc.).  But  it 
is  perhaps  even  more  remarkable  that  when  Christ 
is  teaching  His  disciples  to  think  about  God  as  their 
Father  in  heaven,  and  speaking  of  Him  as  '  the 
Father'  or  '  your  Father,'  He  always  adopts  the 
manner  of  one  who  knows  this  trutli  from  within. 


CONSCIOUSNESS 


CONSCIOUSNESS 


363 


It  is  nob  a  doctrine  which  He  has  learned  from 
Scripture,  or  i>roved  by  reason,  or  even  gained  by 
vision  or  revelation.  It  is  spontaneous,  a  trutli 
Avelling  up  from  tlie  depths  of  His  being,  and  as 
essential  and  natural  to  His  thouj'ht  as  breathing 
to  His  bodily  life.  To  Him  God,  His  Father,  was 
an  ever-present  reality,  the  greatest  and  most  inti- 
mate of  all  realities.  He  knew  God  as  none  else 
knew  Him  (Mt  IP').  He  abode  in  His  Father's 
love  (Jn  15").  These  e.xpressions  describe  in  the 
simplest  possible  way  the  spirit  which  is  mani- 
fested in  all  our  Lord's  utterances.  Take,  as  an 
example,  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount,  the  most  dis- 
tinctively ethical  part  of  His  teaching.  Here,  if 
anywhere,  we  should  expect  this  purely  religious 
apprehension  of  God  to  become  dormant.  In  the 
introduction  (Mt  .5-'""),  the  promises  all  reveal  a 
deep  insight  into  the  purposes  and  nature  of  God  : 
they  view  the  world  with  its  many  kinds  of  people 
from  the  Divine  point  of  view  (see  also  o'"-  -"•  ■**•  ^ 

gl.  4.  6.  8.  9.  14.   15.  18.  20.  24.  26ff.     7II.  21)_        ^11      thrOUgh, 

human  things  are  viewed  in  the  light  of  God's 
character.  Jesus  knew  all  these  things  about 
human  life  because  He  first  knew  God.  Instances 
of  this  underlying  consciousness  might  be  multi- 
plied indefinitely. 

2.  His  self-assertion.  It  has  often  been  pointed 
out  (especially  by  Liddon  in  his  Divinity  of  our 
Lord,  Lect.  IV.)  that  qualities  whicli  are  incom- 
patible in  any  other  character  combine  freely  and 
harmoniously  in  the  character  of  Jesus.  The  most 
remarkable  instance  is  the  union  of  self-assertion 
with  the  most  jierfect  humility.  To  those  who 
believe  in  the  Deity  of  Christ,  the  reason,  the 
'  why,'  of  this  fact  is  not  far  to  seek.  But  the 
'how'  remains  a  difficulty.  How  is  it  that  all 
seems  natural  and  inevitable  in  the  portrait  as  we 
find  it  in  the  Gospels?  The  answer  must  surely 
be  that  the  self-assertion  is  the  necessary  expres- 
sion of  a  real  consciousness.  It  is  well  to  be  re- 
minded how  tremendous  the  self-assertion  is.  The 
following  passages  are  a  selection  :  Mt  5"-  --•  ""■  '"■ 
39. 44  721. 22. &.  29  (the  fomier  verses  show  this  'au- 


thority' which  astonished   the  multitude)  8"- 

-.32.33.37.38.39    J  p7. 28.29    (;„   y,ese   passages   w 
have  the  self-assertion  and  the  humility  side   by 


IQis. 


side:  'I  am  meek  and  lowly  in  heart'  follows 
the  illimitable  claim  of  vv."--")  126-8-««  16-«- 
2045  253iff-,  Mk  2=8  8"f-  10="  12"  13=',  Lk  9='-=8  U^"- 
21'2ff-,  and  throughout  St.  John's  Gospel  (see 
especially  5"' "'t-  S'^f-  10™  14™-  etc.).  In  these 
passages  our  Lord  declares  Himself  greater  than 
Abraham,  David,  Solomon  ;  greater  than  the 
Temple,  the  Sabbath,  tlie  Law  ;  He  claims  for 
Himself  all  the  homage  and  devotion  of  which  the 
hearts  of  men  are  capable  ;  He  calls  Himself  '  the 
King,'  and  describes  Himself  as  the  Judge  of  all 
the  nations  ;  He  demands  as  His  right  that  honour 
Avhich  belongs  to  God  alone  (Jn  5"=^).  Yet  He  is 
among  men  '  as  he  that  serveth  '  (Lk  22"). 

3.  The  effect  of  this  consciousness  upon  those 
who  were  l)rought  under  His  infiuence  is  very 
evident.  The  impression  which  Jesus  produced 
upon  the  minds  and  hearts  of  men  was  quite 
unique.  He  not  only  preached  Himself,  He  re- 
vealed Himself.  This  revelation  carried  conviction 
with  it.  It  is  plain  that  He  designed  His  ministry 
to  be  suuli  a  revelation.  It  was  not  His  usual 
luethod  to  say  exactly  who  He  was,  but  rather  to 
lead  His  hearers  on  until  they  were  able  to  make 
that  discovery  for  themselves  (Mt  16'-'-=").  We  speak 
of  our  Lord  'claiming'  such  and  such  things  ;  but 
whenever  He  made  an  assertion  aljout  Himself,  it 
was  becau.se  it  was  necessary  that  His  hearers 
should  know  the  truth  on  account  of  its  essential 
importance  for  themselves.  His  object  was  to  lead 
them  to  give  Him  the  whole  faith  and  love  of  their 
hearts,   because  in  so  doing   they  attained  their 


highest  good.  A  notable  instance  of  the  etfect  of 
our  Lord's  self-revelation  occurs  in  the  case  of  St. 
Peter  (Lk  5'),  'Depart  from  me  :  for  I  am  a  sinful 
man,  O  Lord.'  Here  the  depth  of  the  impression 
is  show  n  by  the  moral  ett'ect  (cf .  ilob  42^- ''  and 
Is  6'').  It  is  clear  that  St.  Peter  was  impressed 
not  merely  by  the  miracle,  but  by  the  moral  glory 
of  Christ.  'The  miracle  was  but  the  occasion  when 
there  came  to  him  a  sudden  insight  into  the  char- 
acter of  Jesus.  The  intense  faith  which  our  Lord 
aw^akened  in  the  hearts  of  those  who  responded  to 
Him  testifies  to  His  self-revelation.  He  looked  for 
a  faith  which  rested  in  Himself  as  its  object.  Such 
faith  always  called  forth  His  highest  approbation. 
Almost  every  page  of  the  Gospels  witnesses  to  the 
truth  of  this.  The  case  of  the  Centurion  (Mt  S^-", 
Lk  7''^°),  though  perhaps  the  most  striking  instance, 
is  yet  only  typical.  The  principle  involved  in  it 
may  be  found  everywhere  ;  see  Mt  8=-  ^-  -■  O---  ="  10=- 

1230  13.W  1522-28  19:^9^  jill-  140.  41  25-11  534  923.  24.  37  IQSS.  52 
13!>  143-9,  Lk  1^-^  9"-=-=«  lO"-'"-  *^  n^  14=5-33  1717-19  1822 

19«,  Jn  5-*  6=8-  35  7='-  38  8'=  etc.  The  extraordinary 
claim  involved  in  these  passages,  and  in  many 
others,  would  strike  us  much  more  than  it  does 
were  it  not  for  the  fact  that  the  experience  of  the 
Christian  centuries  has  amply  justified  it.  Chris- 
tianity, together  with  all  the  moral  and  spiritual 
benefits  which  it  has  bestowed  upon  mankind,  is 
the  ett'ect  produced  not  primarily  by  any  doctrinal 
system  or  method  of  organization,  but  by  a  per- 
sonality. It  was  the  deliberate  aim  of  our  Lord, 
with  full  consciousness  of  the  method  He  was 
adopting,  to  influence  humanity  by  the  revelation 
of  Himself. 

II.  PsvCHOLOcaCAL  rrOBLEMS.— These  are  many 
and  difficult. 

i.  Growth. — In  the  case  of  a  merely  human  in- 
telligence, growth  is  a  necessary  element ;  and  a 
psycliological  examination  would  aim  at  tracing  the 
course  of  development  by  showing  how  the  mind 
reacted  upon  the  circumstances  of  its  history  and 
environment.  Our  Lord  was  truly  human  ;  but  He 
was  not  merely  human,  and  therefore  it  is  unsafe 
to  reason  from  ordinary  experience  apart  from  the 
facts  of  His  life  as  given  in  the  Gosjiels.  Concern- 
ing His  early  years,  we  are  distinctly  told  that 
there  was  development.  '  The  child  grew  and 
waxed  strong,  filled  (becoming  full,  ir\ripoviJ.evov) 
with  wisdom'  (Lk  2^").  And  again  (v.'--),  'Jesus 
advanced  {wpodKoirTev)  in  wisdom  and  stature.' 
The  language  in  both  places  implies  growth  in 
the  true  sense  of  the  term.  'We  are  not,  then, 
to  imagine  the  infant  Jesus  looking  out  upon  the 
world,  from  His  mother's  arms,  with  eyes  already 
gleaming  with  the  fulness  of  that  superhuman 
knowledge  which  He  afterwards  possessed,  as  cer- 
tain ancient  pictuies  would  suggest.  In  His  con- 
sciousness, as  in  His  bodily  frame.  He  developed 
from  helpless  infancy  to  maturity.  But  there  is 
unmistakable  evidence  that,  as  His  consciousness 
unfolded,  it  attained,  in  ways  which  were  to  it 
perfectly  normal  and  proper,  experiences  which 
are  unique  among  the  phenomena  of  human  ex- 
istence. It  is  clear  from  what  has  been  already- 
stated,  that  Jesus,  from  His  childhood,  possessed 
a  consciousness  of  God  as  His  Father  which  was 
utterly  different  from  the  faith  to  which  others 
attain  through  teaching  and  the  influence  of  re- 
ligious surroundings.  The  incident  of  His  child- 
hood which  reveals  this  fact  must  be  viewed  in  the 
light  of  the  self-revelation  which  fills  all  His  teach- 
ing. Then  its  meaning  is  clear.  We  learn  that 
His  knowledge  of  His  Father  in  heaven  and  of  the 
loving  harmony  of  will  which  subsisted  between 
them  was  not  a  revelation  imparted  when  the 
time  of  His  public  ministry  drew  near.  It  was 
an  essential  element  in  His  earliest  spiritual  ex- 
periences.   So  far  we  are  carried  by  the  mere  facts. 


364 


CONSCIOUSNESS 


CONSCIOUSNESS 


Every  attempt  at  a  theological,  or  even  psycho- 
logical, co-ordination  of  these  facts  will  carry  us 
much  further,  and  show  that  this  inexplicable 
knowledge  of  God  and  consciousness  of  harmony 
with  Him  form  together  the  ruling  and  guiding 
principle  of  our  Lord's  whole  life. 

We  have  already  passed  in  review  the  large 
classes  of  passages  which  show  most  distinctly  our 
Lord's  self-revelation  of  His  consciousness  of  union 
with  His  Father.  The  force  of  these  passages  is 
greatly  augmented  when  certain  negative  charac- 
teristics most  clearly  manifested  in  the  Gospels  are 
taken  into  consideration. 

1.  Tliere  is  no  trace  in  our  Lord's  teaching  or 
life  of  any  effort  to  arrive  at  truth  by  means  of 
reasoning.  Jesus  was  never  a  seeker  for  truth  : 
it  was  not  any  task  of  His  to  discern  God's  will 
before  He  began  to  do  it,  or  to  satisfy  His  own 
intelligence  before  He  taught  others.  In  dealing 
with  the  things  of  God,  He  moves  with  the  abso- 
lute certainty  of  One  who  knew  the  truth  from 
within.  His  use  of  Holy  Scripture  is  never  an 
effort  to  fortify  His  own  mind :  He  speaks  and 
acts  as  One  who  knew  Himself  a  superior  authority. 
Just  as  He  was  greater  than  the  temple  and  Loid 
of  the  Sabbath,  so  is  He  above  the  Law  and  able 
to  take  the  position  of  One  who  has  the  right  to 
modify  it  or  deepen  it  on  His  sole  authority  (see 
Mt  5"-='-»2-28  etc.  T^--"  12«,  .Mk  •2--').  When,  in 
His  teaching.  He  reasons  from  Scripture  or  from 
nature,  it  is  simply  that  He  may  con\-ey  to  others, 
in  a  way  which  corresponds  to  their  mental  equip- 
ment, the  truth  which  He  Himself  knows  inde- 
pendently. In  such  cases  there  is  always  some 
degree  of  that  '  fulfilling  of  the  Law,'  that  drawing 
out  of  a  deeper  meaning,  of  which  so  many  in- 
stances occur  in  the  Sermon  on  the  JNIount.  Per- 
haps the  most  remarkable  example  is  His  proof  of 
the  future  life  from  the  revelation  at  the  Bush 
( Mt  2232,  Mk  12=s-  =",  Lk  20"-  ^8).  Here  the  real  proof 
is  the  manifestation  of  the  character  of  God  as  it  is 
involved  in  the  declaration  to  Moses.  See  for  other 
instances  of  argument  of  this  kind  from  Scripture, 
from  reason,  or  from  nature,  Mt  5^^  6'-  "■  -'''"■  7"- '" 
12"f- "•■=•«»'•,  Mk2'-"  S-"  7'™-  1V«-  1235ff-,  Lk  13'= 
14s.  28ff.^  jn  1314  n  is  qnite  plain  in  these  and  all 
other  instances  that  our  Lord  is  reasoning,  not  in 
order  to  satisfy  His  own  mind,  but  to  carry  con- 
\-iction  to  the  minds  of  His  hearers.  There  is  not 
the  faintest  trace  of  the  struggle  for  truth. 

2.  There  is  no  sign  that  progressive  revelations 
were  made  to  Him  during  the  course  of  His 
ministry.  Many  efforts  have  been  made  to  show 
that  Jesus  attained  at  certain  turning-points  to 
new  views  of  His  mission,  and  of  the  means  by 
which  His  work  was  to  be  accomplished.  It  is 
certainly  true  that  in  His  teachin''  it  is  possible 
to  discern  two  stages,  the  first  marked  by  a  broad 
and  more  ethical  treatment  of  the  (lospel  of  the 
Kingdom,  the  second  dealing  with  tlie  moans  by 
which  the  Kingdom  is  to  be  established.  His  own 
Person,  sufferings,  and  death.  But  it  is  quite 
impossible  to  show  that  these  two  stages  are  not 
essential  parts  of  one  organic  whole.  The  truth  is 
that  they  are  perfectly  consistent,  and  form  to- 
gether one  great  scheme  of  revelation.  To  suppose 
any  change  of  purpose,  or  even  fresh  insight  into 
the  means  by  which  our  Lord's  mission  was  to  be 
accomplished,  during  His  ministry,  is  to  go  beyond 
the  evidence  afforded  by  the  Gospel  history,  in 
obedience  to  some  a  priori  psychological  or  theo- 
logical theory.  It  is  supposed  by  some  that  He 
began  with  the  belief  that  the  Kingdom  would  be, 
somehow  or  other,  introduced  miraculously  when 
the  people  as  a  whole  were  ready  to  receive  it,  but 
that,  as  time  went  on,  and  He  found  Himself 
rejected  by  the  leaders,  He  became  con\dnced  that 
the   Kingdom  was  already  being  realized  in  the 


hearts  of  the  faithful,  and  finally  saw  that  it  was 
necessary  that  He  Himself  should  die  for  its  ad- 
vancement. But  how  is  this  consistent  with  such 
passages  as  these  :  JMk  l'"-  ^-  »^-  "■  **•  "■  «  2="  3'=,  and 
the  corresponding  passages  in  St.  Luke ;  also  the 
whole  Sermon  on  the  Mount  in  St.  Matthew  ? 
Why  should  our  Lord  so  sternly  and  so  con- 
sistently forbid  the  spread  of  popular  excitement 
if  He  thought  the  Kingdom  would  suddenly 
appear,  supervening  miraculously  upon  the  old 
order?  Here  is  clear  proof  that  from  the  begin- 
ning He  understood  the  spiritual  nature  of  the 
Kingdom.  Why  again  should  He,  from  the  be- 
ginning, foreshadow  the  days  of  mourning  '  when 
tlie  Bridegroom  shall  be  taken  away,'  unless  He 
had  in  view  all  along  the  great  sacrifice  which  was 
to  end  His  ministry?  (See  Mt  9'S  Mk  2'9- =»,  Lk 
5W.  35  This  saying  obviously  belongs  to  the 
earlier  days,  when  the  disciples  of  Jesus  were 
marked  by  their  joyous  acceptance  of  all  the 
good  gifts  of  their  Father  in  heaven).  These  con- 
clusions are  greatly  strengthened  by  a  considera- 
tion of  the  crisis  which  was  brought  alnjut  by  the 
feeding  of  the  five  thousand.  That  there  was  a 
crisis  is  evident  from  Jn  6'^-  "*■  **  compared  with 
Mt  14»-  =*  and  Mk  6*^-'''.  But  it  was  not  a  crisis 
in  the  consciousness  of  Jesus.  It  concerned  rather 
the  response  of  the  people.  Now  at  last  they  are 
utterly  disappointed  of  their  hopes  of  a  worldly 
ilessiah,  and  the  very  manner  of  their  disappoint- 
ment shows  our  Lord's  perfect  consistency.  His 
conduct  throughout  is  that  of  one  who.se  mind  is 
made  up  and  whose  course  is  absolutely  clear.  At 
the  very  end,  it  may  be  thought,  we  have,  in  the 
Agony  in  the  Garden,  a  crisis  at  which  He 
became  at  last  fully  persuaded  of  the  necessity  of 
His  death.  But  surely  it  is  much  more  in  accord- 
ance with  the  whole  history  to  regard  this  as  a 
moral  crisis,  when,  for  the  last  time.  He  was 
tempted  to  turn  aside.  There  are  indications  that, 
all  along,  this  temptation  was  presented  to  Him 
(.see  Mt  16---=',  Mk  S''-'^,  Jn  12=').  Our  Lord's 
utterances  before  the  Agony  show  the  very  fullest 
consciousness  of  His  mission,  and  of  how  it  was  to 
be  accomplished. 

3.  Repentance  Lad  no  place  in  the  consciousness 
of  Jesus.  As  Harnack  {What  is  Christianity ?,  \i. 
32  f. )  puts  it,  '  No  stormy  crisis,  no  breach  with  His 
past,  lies  behind  the  period  of  Jesus'  life  that  we 
know.  In  none  of  His  sayings  or  discourses  .  .  . 
can  we  discover  the  signs  of  inner  revolutions 
overcome,  or  the  scars  of  any  terrible  conflict. 
Everything  seems  to  pour  from  Him  naturally,  as 
though  it  could  not  do  otherwise,  like  a  sprin" 
from  the  depths  of  the  earth,  clear  and  unchecked 
in  its  flow.^  This  is  the  strongest  proof  of  our 
Lord's  perfect  sinlessness.  It  is  incredible  that 
the  keenest  spiritual  insight  ever  possessed  by  man 
should  have  been  blind  to  its  own  condition.  In 
confirmation  of  this  the  following  passages  are 
important :  Mt  o^""-  7"  18=*- =*-^,  Mk  9*'"'-,  Lk  13^-  " 
17'"  etc.  show  our  Lord's  sensitiveness  to  the 
presence  of  sin  in  the  hearts  of  men  ;  how  He 
recognized  its  universality  in  the  world,  and  how 
high  was  His  standard.  Mk  1",  Lk  6*',  Jn  i-"* 
8=*-**,  give  a  direct  insight  into  His  conscious- 
ness of  His  own  moral  condition.  Lk  5',  1  P  2-  3", 
1  Jn  2-""  3'- ',  2  Co  5=',  He  4'*  etc.  show  the  impres- 
sion He  produced,  in  regard  to  this  matter,  upon 
the  minds  of  His  di.sciples.  Our  Lord's  conscious- 
ness of  union  with  His  Father  was  not  marred 
by  any  sin  within  His  own  soul. 

On  the  subject  of  grow  th,  then,  our  data  lead  us 
to  the  conclusion  that  there  was  a  real  develop- 
ment in  tlic  c.iiivci. (Illness  of  Jesus  durinj;  His 
j'outh,  but  timt  this  df\cloi)ment  was  completed, 
certainly  in  all  its  essential  elements,  before  He 
began  His  ministry. 


CONSCIOUSNESS 


CONSCIOUSNESS 


ii.  The  most  perplexing  of  all  the  psychological 
problems  opened  up  by  our  subject  is  that  which  is 
presented  by  the  endeavour  to  distinguish  the 
Divine  and  human  elements  in  our  Lord's  con- 
sciousness, and  to  define  the  mode  of  their  union. 
What  in  general  the  contents  of  His  Divine  con- 
sciousness were,  so  far  as  they  have  been  revealed 
to  us,  we  have  seen  above.  But  it  is  extremely 
hazardous  to  draw  negative  conclusions  from  these 
positive  results,  and  every  attempt  at  definition  of 
the  two  elements  involves  negative  as  well  as  posi- 
tive statements.  Psychologically,  we  are  pre- 
sented with  an  insoluble  problem.  There  are  no 
facts,  and  no  laws,  known  to  the  science  of  mind 
which  can  help  us  to  understand  the  consciousness 
of  Jesus.  That  He  knew  as  man  knows  there  can 
be  no  question.  All  the  evidence  we  possess  points 
to  mental  growth  during  the  years  of  His  youth  ; 
and  though,  as  we  have  seen,  the  facts  of  His 
history  during  the  period  of  His  ministry  do  not 
warrant  us  in  attributing  to  Him  progressive 
attainments  in  the  knowledge  of  Divine  things,  it 
is  clear  that  ordinary  human  knowledge  came  to 
Him  as  it  comes  to  us.  It  is  often  said  of  Him, 
that  He  '  came  to  know '  (yvuvat,  Mt  12'=  22'8  26'», 
Mk  2»  8",  Jn  41  5"  6'5  16»» ;  see  Mason,  Conditions 
of  our  Lo7-cr s  Life  on  Earth,  p.  13011'.).  Again,  we 
are  told  that  He  was  guided  by  the  evidence  of 
His  senses :  '  When  Jesus  saw  it,  he  was  moved 
with  indignation' (Mk  10");  'He  came  forth  and 
saw  a  great  multitude,  and  he  had  compassion  on 
them '  (Mt  14") ;  '  When  he  drew  nigh,  he  saw 
the  city  and  wept  over  it '  (Lk  19^').    Such 


men  or  of  events  {e.g.  Jn  1-"*  4'»,  Mt  2P,  Mk  14", 
etc.),  do  not  weaken  their  force.  But  side  by  side 
with  this  human  consciousness  we  find  unmistak- 
able evidence  of  a  consciousness  which  knows  the 
heart  of  God  from  within,  and  which  therefore  sheds 
an  unparalleled  illumination  over  the  whole  realm 
of  spiritual  things.  Jesus  could  say  of  Himself, 
'  No  one  knoweth  the  Son  save  the  Father  ;  neither 
doth  any  know  the  Father  save  the  Son,  and  he  to 
whomsoever  the  Son  willeth  to  reveal  him.'  Such 
an  assertion  would  be  folly  or  worse  were  it  not 
justified  by  the  contents  of  His  teaching.  But  the 
truth  is  that  what  Jesus  showed  mankind  about 
the  Father  and  His  Kingdom,  His  Love  and  His 
holiness,  and  the  revelation  which  Jesus  gave  of 
human  life  as  seen  in  the  liglit  of  this  Divine 
manifestation,  have  ever  remained  the  highest 
heights  of  spiritual  vision.  And,  more  wonderful 
still,  this  revelation  has  proved  itself,  as  He  fore- 
told, inseparable  from  the  Person  who  gave  it. 
The  teaching,  Divine  though  it  is,  has  ever  been 
subordinate  to  the  Teacher.  It  is  always  Jesus 
Christ  who  reveals  the  Father.  Here  then  are  the 
two  elements,  a  consciousness  of  God  and  of  Him- 
self in  relation  to  God  difterent  in  kind  from 
anything  known  in  our  experience,  and  side  by 
side  with  it  ordinary  human  knowledge  based  on 
the  evidence  of  the  senses.  Harnack  puts  the 
problem  thus :  '  How  He  came  to  this  conscious- 
ness of  the  unique  character  of  His  relation  to  God 
as  a  Son,  how  He  came  to  the  consciousness  of  His 
power,  and  to  the  consciousness  of  the  obligation 
and  the  mission  which  this  power  carries  with  it, 
is  His  secret,  and  no  psychology  will  ever  fathom 
iV  (What  is  Christianity  ?  p.  128). 

iii.  Knowledge  and  ignorance. — We  cannot  enter 
here  upon  a  general  discussion  of  this  question.  It 
must  suffice  to  note  that  our  Lord  in  one  instance 
pointedly  confessed  ignorance  (Mk  13^=),  that  He 
asked  questions,  evidently  to  gain  information 
(Mk  52»  6»92',  Jn  UM),  that  He  showed  surprise 
(Mt  8>",  Mk  6«),  that  He  sought  for  what  He  could 
not  find  (Mt  21'»,  Mk  11"),  and  that  there  is  no 


trace  in  the  Gospels  of  His  possessing  supernatural 
knowledge  of  human  and  secular  things  beyond 
what  was  necessary  for  His  work.  These  facts 
may  be  connected  with  the  following  statements 
made  by  our  Lord  Himself :  '  The  Son  can  do 
nothing  of  himself,  but  what  he  seeth  the  Father 
doing'  (Jn  5") ;  '  I  can  of  myself  do  nothing  ;  as  I 
hear,  1  judge :  and  my  judgment  is  rigliteous ; 
because  I  seek  not  mine  own  will,  but  the  will  of 
hira  that  sent  me '  (v.3») ;  '  My  teaching  is  not 
mine,  but  his  that  sent  me '  (7'") ;  '  He  that  sent 
me  is  true  ;  and  the  things  which  I  heard  from 
him,  these  speak  I  unto  the  world '  (8='') ;  '  I  do 
nothing  of  myself,  but  as  the  Father  taught  me,  I 
speak  these  things '  (v.-«) ;  '  I  speak  the  things 
which  I  have  seen  with  my  Father'  (v.^*) ;  'The 
Father  which  sent  me,  he  hath  given  me  a  com- 
mandment, what  I  should  say  and  what  I  should 
speak ' ;  '  The  things  therefore  which  I  speak, 
even  as  the  Father  hath  said  unto  me,  so  I  speak ' 
(12"'"');  'The  words  that  I  say  unto  you  I  speak 
not  from  myself  ;  but  the  Father  abiding  in  me 
doeth  his  works.  Believe  me  that  I  am  in  the 
Father  and  the  Father  in  me'  (14'°- ";  see  also 
1424.31  1515  177.  8)  F'roni  these  statements  it  surely 
follows  that  our  Lord's  Divine  knowledge  was  im- 
parted to  Him  in  His  communion  with  His  Father. 
Apart  from  this  means  of  knowing.  He  depended 
simply  upon  His  human  faculties.  'This  being 
the  case,  we  must  see  that,  if  anything  which 
could  not  be  known  naturally  was  not  made  kno\vii 
to  Him  by  the  Father,  it  would  not  be  known  by 
Him  '  (Bishop  O'Brien  of  Ossory,  quoted  by  Cauon 
Mason,  op.  cit.  p.  192).  The  psychology  of  this 
communion  with  the  Father,  as  a  means  of  know- 
ledge, is  doubtless  beyond  us  ;  but  the  facts  given 
in  all  the  Gospels  agree  with  the  statements  of 
our  Lord  Himself  as  recorded  by  St.  John.  See, 
further,  Authority  of  Christ. 

III.  Theological  results.— i.  The  first  result 
is  an  extraordinary  emphasis  upon  the  unique- 
ness of  our  Lord's  personality.  In  the  psycholo- 
gical sjihere  the  consciousness  of  Jesus  Christ  is  as 
miraculous  as  His  resurrection  is  in  the  physical. 
There  is  this  ditterence,  however,  that  His  con- 
sciousness is  a  fact  which  comes  in  all  its  freshness 
before  everyone  who  reads  with  clear  eyes  the 
story  of  His  life.  It  is  the  most  truly  living  ele- 
ment in  the  Gospels,  and  it  is  the  same  in  them 
all.  It  is  a  concrete  fact,  not  an  abstract  doctrine. 
To  attribute  its  unity  and  concreteness  to  the 
sudden  development  of  a  dramatic  instinct  among 
certain  religiously-minded  Jews  of  the  1st  cent.,  is 
as  impossible  as  to  derive  its  amazing  spiritual 
elevation  from  an  idealizing  tendency  among  those 
who  believed  in  God  and  His  promises,  and  were 
looking  for  the  Messiah  and  His  Kingdom.  Every 
attempt  at  explanation  of  thi.s  kind  has  proved, 
and  must  ever  prove,  a  failure.  The  truth  and 
vividness  of  the  Gospels  flow  from  the  reality  of 
the  Christ  whom  they  portray,  and  the  conscious- 
ness of  Jesus  is  the  soul  of  that  reality. 

ii.  The  study  of  the  consciousness  of  our  Lord  is 
the  most  convincing  proof  of  His  Divinity.  When 
such  passages  as  Jn  S''-^"  »--^<'  Vf"-^  W'^"  are  com- 
pared with  such  as  these  from  the  Synoptics— Mt 
1125-30  253i-«_  Mk  8=^-28  10=8-2"  1.23S--7  147^  Lk  9=2-"-  "■"•- 
1021-24.42  128-10  1940  20"'5_and  both  series  are 
discerned  to  Ije  the  inevitable  and  consistent 
utterances  of  the  mind  of  Him  who  called  Him- 
.self  the  Son  of  God  and  the  Son  of  Man,  the  con- 
clusion is  irresistible,  unless,  indeed,  preconceived 
views  of  the  nature  of  the  Universe  forbid  the 
inference,  that  the  traditional  doctrine  of  Chris- 
tianity is  the  only  adequate  interpretation  of  the 
facts  of  the  life  of  Jesus. 


366  COXSECEATE,  CONSECRATION 


CONSECRATE,  CONSECRATION 


and  Bampton  Lectures ;  Liddon,  Difiiiiti/  of  Our  Lord ;  Balden- 
sper^er,  Das  Selbstbewusstsein  Jesu  ;  Beyschlag,  Leben  Jesu  ; 
Adamson,  Studies  of  the  Mind  in  Christ ;  Fairbairii,  Place  of 
Christ  in  Modem  Theology  ;  Godet,  Xew  Testament  Studies ; 
Row,  Jesus  of  the  Evangelists;  Keim,  Jesu  von  A'azara; 
Harnack,  Dos  Wesen  des  Christentums  [Eng.  tr.  What  is  Chris- 
tianity?}; Seeley,  Bcce  Homo  ;  R.  Mackintosh,  articles  on  'The 
Dawn  of  the  Messianic  Consciousness  ■  in  Expos.  Times,  1905. 

In  some  of  these,  and  in  many  other  works  which  mi^^ht  be 
named,  will  be  found  a  great  deal  of  rather  free  speculation 
based  up.  Ill  i^yrholr.u'i.al  considerations,  and  often  but  loosely 
conner-r.-'  -  '-i-  '''■-  •-'.^ments  of  the  Gospels.  The  present 
writt-r  1,  ;  ■>  keep  .as  closely  as  possible  to  the 

hist.ir;  >  lount  of  the  peculiarnature  of  the 

proMt  1  1   that  psychology  affords 


1  state 


t  by  . 


the  Kwu._ci,-i_'  .L^  r.id^iire  of  higher  quality  than  a  priori 
arguments  ol  any  dL-.SLription.  Yet  he  has  not  forgotten  the 
views  of  modern  critics,  and  has  been  careful  to  show,  by  an 
array  of  references  to  texts,  that  the  principal  contents  of  our 
Lord's  consciousness  are  witnessed  to  by  all  the  original  authori- 
ties. Charles  F.  D'Arcy. 

CONSECRATE,  CONSECRATION.-In  the  AV  of 

NT  '  consecrated '  occurs  twice.  In  both  places 
the  reference  is  to  the  \vork  of  Christ,  but  to  two 
different  aspects  of  that  >vork,  neither  of  wliicli  is 
suggested  by  the  rendering  'consecrated.'  (1)  In 
He  7^  the  word  used  is  Tere\eiwp.ii'oi'=^KV  'per- 
fected.' Our  Lord,  as  'a  Son  perfected  for  ever- 
more,' is  contrasted  with  human  high  priests 
'  Ittiving  infirmity.'  The  connexion  of  thought, 
obscured  in  the  AV,  is  with  2'"  5"  etc.  The  per- 
fection of  Him  wlio  'abideth  for  ever,'  and  wliose 
priesthood  is  inviolable,  is  the  result  of  the  liuman 
experience  of  the  Divine  Son.  By  His  life  in  the 
flesh,  His  lowly  obedience,  and  His  sufterings.  He 
has  gained  that  abiding  sympathy  with  men  wliich 
fits  Him  to  be  'the  author  of  eternal  salvation.' 
(2)  In  He  1(P  the  word  used  is  €>eKoiVi<7f;/  =  RV 
'dedicated,'  lit.  'made  new.'  Jesus  'dedicated  for 
us  a  new  and  living  way'  into  the  Holy  Place. 
The  thought  is  that  by  means  of  His  own  blood 
our  High  Priest  passed  into  the  Divine  presence, 
inaugurating  a  way  for  us.  Because  He  passed 
through  our  human  life,  and  out  of  it  by  the 
rending  of  '  the  veil,  that  is  to  say,  his  flesh,' 
He  is  not  only  our  representative,  but  also  our 
forerunner ;  in  full  assurance  of  faith  we  also  may 
draw  near  and  follow  Him  into  that  heavenly 
sanctuary. 

In  the  RVm  'consecrate'  is  found  three  times, 
\'iz.,  Jn  1(P  IT''-'*,  ayii^eif,  of  which  'conse- 
crate' is  an  alternative  rendering,  is  usually 
translated  'sanctify.'  The  exception  in  the  EV 
is  the  first  petition  of  the  Lord's  Prayer  (Mt6'  = 
Lk  IP)— 'Hallowed  be  thy  name.'  Here  the 
Rheims  version  has  '  sanctified  be  thy  name ' ;  on 
the  other  hand,  Wyclif  has  'halowe,'  '  halowid ' 
in  Jn  10^  IT'"- '». 

The  distinction  between  '  consecrate '  and  '  sanc- 
tify '  turns  rather  ui)on  usage  than  upon  etymologj-. 
Both  words  mean  'to  make  holy.'  But  a  person 
or  a  thin"  may  be  made  holy  in  two  dinerent 
ways:  (1)  By  solemn  setting  apart  for  holy  uses, 
as  when  in  the  LXX  0710^611'  designates  the  con- 
secration of  a  prophet  ( Jer  1',  cf.  Sir  45''  49')  j 
(2)  by  imparting  fitness  for  holy  uses,  as  when  St. 
Paul  speaks  (Ro  15",  cf.  1  Th  5^)  of  his  offermg  as 
'  made  acceptable '  because  it  has  been  '  sanctified 
by  the  Holy  Spirit.'  On  these  lines  it  now  seems 
possible  and  desirable  to  distinguish  the  two 
English  words  which  mean  'to  make  holy.' 
Ideally,  consecration  implies  sanctification.  But 
in  modern  English  '  consecrate '  suggests  the 
thought  of  setting  apart  for  holy  uses,  %\liilst 
'  sanctify '  has  come  rather  to  imply  making  fit  I 
for  holy  uses. 

The  rendering   '  consecrated '   better   .suits    the 
context  of  Jn  lO'*   'Say  ye   of  him,  whom    tin- 
Father  consecrated  and  sent  into  the  world,  Tlmu 
blasphemest;  because  I  said,  I  am  Son  of  God 
Jer  1"  supplies  a  suggestive  OT  analogy,  for  the 


word  of  the  Lord  reminds  the  young  prophet  that, 
in  the  Divine  counsel,  he  was  set  apart  for  holy 
uses  before  his  birth.  The  thought  would  be  more 
appropriately  presented  by  '  consecrated  '  than  by 
R  V  '  sanctified '  (LXX  riylaKa).  Similarly,  as  our 
Lord  declares  in  His  argument  with  the  Jew-s 
(Jn  10=«),  the  Father  consecrated  His  Son  to  His 
redemptive  mission  before  sending  Him  forth  to 
His  work.  More  is  implied  in  this  statement  than 
that  the  Father  'chose'  or  'set  apart'  His  Son. 
All  things  were  given  into  His  hand  (Jn  3^),  and 
amongst  the  all  things  were  'life  in  himself'  (Jn 
5-'^),  fulness  of  grace  and  truth  (l'-*),  and  the  Spirit 
'  without  measure '  (3**).  '  The  fact  belongs  to  the 
eternal  order.  The  term  expresses  the  Divine  des- 
tination of  the  Lord  for  His  ^^■ork.  This  destination 
carries  Avith  it  the  further  thought  of  the  perfect 
endowment  of  the  Incarnate  Son'  (Westcott,  Com. 
in  Ivc. ).  It  is  only  in  this  sense  of  complete  equip- 
ment that  the  Divine  Son  was  made  fit  for  His 


sacred  mission ;  the  Holy  One  had  no  need  of 
sanctification  'in  a  way  of  qualification,'  as  the 
Puritan  divines  used  the  word,  when  they  meant 
inward  cleansing  from  sin  and  the  Holy  Spirit's 
bestowal  of  purity  of  heart. 

Our  Lord's  words,  '  I  consecrate  myself '  ( Jn  17"), 
are  best  understood  in  the  light  of  His  earlier 
saying  that '  the  Father  consecrated '  Him  ( Jn  10^). 
The  two  statements  are  complementary.  His  con- 
secration of  Himself  was  the  proof  of  His  perfect 
acquiescence  in  the  Father's  purpose  concerning 
Himself,  His  disciples,  and  the  w-orld.  The  secret 
of  His  inner  life  was  continually  revealed  'in 
loveliness  of  perfect  deeds '  which  constrained  men 
to  acknowledge  the  truth  of  His  words,  'I  seek 
not  mine  own  will,  but  the  will  of  him  that  sent 
me '  ( Jn  5**) ;  the  law  that  ruled  His  every  word 
and  work  He  was  soon  to  fulfil  to  the  uttermost  ; 
His  readiness  to  drink  the  cup  which  the  Father 
was  about  to  put  into  His  hands  was  involved  in 
His  calm  word,  '  I  consecrate  myself ' ;  its  utter- 
ance in  this  solemn  hour  affords  a  glimpse  of  the 
spirit  of  absolute  devotion  to  His  Father's  will  in 
which  Jesus  is  finishing  His  work  and  consum- 
mating in  death  the  self-sacrifice  of  His  life.  And 
as  for  the  sake  of  His  disciples  Jesus  consecrates 
Himself,  He  prays  for  them,  knowing  that  the 
future  of  His  kingdom  depends  on  their  having 
the  same  spirit  ot  complete  consecration  to  the 
Divine  will. 


regarding  ij-i«C»  as 
(cf.  Euth.  Zig.  nil 
lonnoting  the  idea  of  expiat< 


Commentators  who  follow  Chrysostom 
practically  equivalent  to  vptv^ipat  nt  Bwrtav  (cf.  Eutl 
ixa'jirii^  Buria^M  itMu/76r),  and  as  connoting  the  idea  ot  expiatory 
sacrifice,  support  their  interpretation  by  references  to  OT 
passages  in  which  iyii^i*  (  =  sr'^pn)  is  a  sacred  word  for 
sacrifices,  as.  e.g..  Ex  132,  Dt  lo'Sf-,  2  S  8"  (cf.  Meyer,  in  toe.). 
They  are  obligea  to  give  the  word  ayiti^uv  two  different  mean- 
in  the  same  sentence,  as  does  the  RVm:  'And  for  their 
myself,  that  they  themselves  also 


IfJ' 


aerate  myseii,  tnat  iney  tnemseives  also  may  De 
sanctified  in  truth.'  But  it  is  not  from  the  word  iyiiK'i''  that 
the  nature  of  Christ's  death  is  to  be  learnt ;  that  which 
differentiates  the  consecration  of  Christ  from  the  consecration 
of  His  disciples  is  brought  out  rather  by  the  other  words  in  this 
pregnant  saying.  The  consecration  of  Jesus  is  His  own  act, 
but  He  does  not  pray  that  apart  from  Him  the  disciples  may 
follow  His  example  and  consecrate  themselves;  His  consecra- 
tion is  the  pattern  of  theirs,  therefore  the  same  word  is  used  of 
the  Master  and  of  His  disciples ;  but  without  His  consecration 
'for  their  sakes'  (uTtp  ayraiy),  their  consecration  would  be 
impossible,  therefore  it  is  said  of  the  Master  alone  that  He 
Himself  on  behalf  of  others. 


If  dvidfciK  be  uniformly  rendered  '  consecrate  '  in 
our  Lord's  intercessory  prayer,  it  will  be  seen  that 
He  twice  expresses  His  yearning  desire  for  the 
consecration  of  the  men  whom  His  Father  had 
given  Him  out  of  the  world:  (I)  Jn  IT"  'Con- 
secrate them  in  the  truth ' ;  as  Jesus  sends  forth 
His  disciples  on  the  same  mission  which  brought 
Hill,  into  the  world  at  His  Father's  bidding.  He 
a-k-  lliat  they  :ilsi.  may  be  sot  apart  for  holy 
-erviir,  and  iiiay  1..'  ■livinclv  equipped  for  theiV 
ta<k,  iviii  a^   lie  was,   liy  tlie  indwelling  of  the 


CONSIDERATENESS 


CONSOLATION 


367 


Father's  love  (v.^'').  They  possess  the  knowledge 
and  the  faitli  that  the  w'orld  lacks,  for  they  have 
come  to  know  and  to  believe  that  the  Father  sent 
the  Son  (vv.*-  ^s,  cf.  vv.='-  ^}.  It  is  because  Jesus 
desires  intensely  that  the  world  may  know  and 
believe,  that  He  so  fervently  prays  for  the  con- 
secration of  the  men  whose  faith  and  knowledge 
qualify  them  to  speak  in  the  world  the  word  which 
He  has  given  them.  (2)  V.'"  '  And  for  their  sakes 
I  consecrate  myself,  that  they  also  may  be  con- 
secrated in  truth.'  Reasons  for  departing  from 
the  rendering  of  the  RV  anil  the  RVni  have  been 
given  above.  No  doubt  it  is  important  to  re- 
member that  men  'having  infirmity'  need  by 
inward  sanctifying  to  be  made  lit  for  the  holy 
service  to  which  they  have  been  consecrated ;  but 
the  emphatic  words,  '  they  also '  (rai  airol),  suggest 
not  a  contrast,  but  a  resemblance, — a  consecration 
common  to  the  Master  and  His  disciples.  It  is  a 
resemblance  not  in  the  letter,  but  in  the  spirit. 
Between  their  work  as  witnesses  and  His  as 
Redeemer  there  was  a  contrast ;  but  their  lives 
might  be  ruled  by  tlie  'inward  thought'  (1  P  4' 
RVm)  which  constrained  Him  to  sulfer  for  their 
sakes.  For  the  disciples  of  Jesus  real  consecration 
consists  in  having  the  mind  which  was  in  Him, 
who  'humbled  himself,  becoming  obedient  even 
unto  death,  yea,  the  deatli  of  tlie  cross'  (Pli  '2*'). 
It  should  also  be  noted  that  the  consecration 
spoken  of  in  Jn  17"*  is,  alike  in  the  case  of  Jesus 
and  of  His  disciples,  '  not  a  process  but  an  act 
completed  at  once, — in  His  case,  when  gathering 
together  in  one  view  all  His  labours  and  sufterings. 
He  presented  them  a  living  sacrifice  to  His  Father  ; 
in  theirs,  when  they  are  in  like  manner  enabled  to 
present  themselves  as  living  sacrifices  in  His  one 
perfect  sacrifice'  (W.  F.  Moulton,  Com.  in  loc). 
See,  further,  art.  Sanctification. 

J.  G.  Tasker. 
CONSIDERATENESS.-It  was  a  saying  of  St. 
Francis,  '  Courtesy  is  own  sister  to  Love ' ;  but  con- 
.siderateness  is  more  than  courtesy  (wli.  see),  for  it 
takes  account  not  only  of  our  neighbour's  feel- 
ings, but  of  all  his  circumstances  and  all  his 
wants.  Our  Lord  '  knew  all  men,  and  knew  what 
was  in  man '  ( Jn  2^) ;  and  in  this  knowledge  we 
find  Him  acting  always  with  the  most  e.xquisite 
care  for  all  their  needs.  Their  bodily  needs  He 
anticipates  and  provides  for,  as  in  the  case  of  the 
hungering  multitudes  (Mt  15'^,  Mk  8'-=,  Lk  9'^,  Jn 
6'),  where,  moreover,  He  takes  care  also  that 
nothing  of  the  store  He  had  provided  should  be 
lost  (Jn  6'2),  and  in  the  case  of  His  over-wrought 
disciples ('  Come  ye  apart  and  rest  awhile,'  Mk  6^'). 
To  wliieh  may  be  added  His  directions  regarding 
Jairus'  daughter,  when  He  had  raised  her  from  the 
dead  ('He  commanded  that  something  should  be 
given  her  to  eat,'  Mk  5«).  Still  more  beautiful  is 
Christ's  delicate  consideration  of  men's  feelings. 
Among  the  many  rays  of  'his  own  glory '(Jn  2") 
manifested  forth  in  His  first  miracle,  we  must  not 
omit  His  considerateness  for  the  mortification 
which  the  falling  short  of  their  wine  would  cause 
to  His  peasant  hosts,  and  His  taking  care  that 
none  save  His  mother  and  the  servants  knew 
whence  the  new  and  better  supply  was  drawn  (Jn 
2*).  As  Instances  of  His  considerateness  of  men's 
spiritual  needs,  we  may  cite  His  giving  scope  for 
the  strong  faith  of  the  good  centurion  by  not  going 
to  his  house  (Mt  8''"-,  Lk  I-"-),  while  by  (/oing 
with  Ja,nus  He  supports  his  weak  faith,  and  is 
beside  him  when  the  stunning  message  reaches 
'"™.  'Thy  daughter  is  dead  :  why  troublest  thou 
the  Master  any  further?'  (Mk  'ry-} ;  His  whole 
action  in  the  case  of  the  woman  taken  in  adultery 
(Jn  8  ■") ;  and  His  attention  to  the  still  deeper 
need  of  the  woman  with  the  issue  of  blood,  whose 
faith,  great  as  it  was,  required  to  be  adorned  with 


gratitude  to,  and  confession  of,  her  healer  (Mk 
529-34)  Extreme  pain  tends  to  make  men  forget 
everything  e.vcept  their  own  suHering ;  it  only 
brought  out  the  more  the  all-embracing  consider- 
atene.ss  of  Christ.  His  words  from  the  Cross  to  the 
Virgin  Motlier  and  St.  John  (Jn  lO-'"-  ^}  teach,  no 
doubt,  the  new  relationships  created  for  believers 
by  the  gospel  (Mk  10*  cf.  Ro  16"  ;  but  they  exhibit 
also  His  considerate  care  not  needlessly  to  mention 
a  relationship  which  might  so  easily  have  exposed 
St.  Mary  to  hustling  by  the  mob,  or  to  syllable 
names  which  would  have  been  repeated  by  irre- 
verent tongues.  The  post-resurrection  sayings  to 
Mary  Magdalene  (Jn  20"' '»),  to  St.  Thomas  (Jn 
20='),  and  to  St.  Peter,  who,  as  he  had  thrice  denied 
his  Lord,  is  thrice  restored  with  delicate  allusion 
to,  but  not  mention  of,  his  threefold  fall  ( Jn  21"-  "), 
are  examples  no  less  shining  and  illustrative.  (Cf. 
Bishop  Paget's  sermon  on  '  Courtesy '  in  Studies  in 
the  Christian  Character,  p.  209). 

CONSOLATION.  —  1.  The  word  'consolation' 
(TrapdKXrjais)  occurs  only  twice  in  the  Gospels  (Lk 
2^5  e--",  both  AV  and  RV).  Trapd/v-Xijms,  however,  is 
a  word  of  common  occurrence  in  the  rest  of  the 
NT,  where  in  AV  it  is  usually  rendered  '  consola- 
tion,' although  not  infrequently  'comfort.'  In 
RV  '  comfort '  has  been  substituted  for  '  consola- 
tion '  except  in  Ac  4^i*  ('exhortation,'  marg.  'con- 
solation') 15^'  ('consolation,' marg.  'exhortation'), 
He  6'*  ('encouragement').  Besides  meaning  con- 
solation or  comfort,  TrapaK\r]ULS  sometimes  denotes 
exhortation,  and  is  so  rendered  both  in  AV  and 
RV.  When  it  is  said  of  Simeon  that  he  was 
'  looking  for  the  consolation  of  Israel '  (Lk  2=°), 
the  word  is  used  by  metonymy  for  the  Jlessianic 
salvation  as  bringing  consolation  to  the  Chosen 
People.  Similarly  the  Messiah  Himself  was  kno\vii 
to  the  Rabbins  as  Dnjp,  '  the  Consoler,'  or  '  Com- 
forter,' of  Israel  (see  Schottgen,  Hor.  Heb.  et 
Talni.  ii.  18).  In  Lk  6=^  the  rich  are  said  to  have 
received  their  consolation,  i.e.  the  comfort  which 
comes  from  worldly  prosperity,  in  contrast  to  those 
spiritual  blessings  which  Jesus  had  just  promised 
that  His  disciples  should  enjoy  in  spite  of  poverty, 
hunger,  and  tears  (vv.^"-^,  cf.  2  Co  \^-% 

2.  Consolation  in  the  teaching  of  Christ. — First  of 
all,  there  will  ever  stand  the  words  :  '  Come  unto  me, 
all  ye  that  travail  and  are  heavy  laden  '  (Mt  ll^"*). 
Amid  outward  storm  and  inward  fear  the  Lord 
greets  His  disciples  :  '  Be  of  good  cheer  :  it  is  I  ;  be 
not  afraid '  (Mk  6=»).  The  Physician  of  the  ailing 
body  and  sick  soul  addresses  the  weary  sufferer : 
'Son,  be  of  good  cheer  ;  thy  sins  are  forgiven'  (Mt 
9=).  To  us  to-day  His  Holy  Spirit  breathes  the 
same  blessings  in  the  gospe'l  of  mercy  and  peace, 
the  Spirit  by  whom  He  is  with  us  '  all  the  days, 
even  unto  the  completion  of  the  age '  (Mt  28^"). 
His  words  do  not  pass  away  (Mk  13^'),  and  from 
His  Divine  lips  no  word  is  void  of  power  (Lk  1"). 
'  Peace  be  unto  you '  is  the  first  message  of  the 
ascended  as  of  the  risen  Lord  ( Jn  20='-  ™).  Still  He 
loves  '  to  the  uttermost '  (Jn  13') ;  still  He  can  bear 
to  lose  not  one  of  those  whom  His  Father  has 
given  Him  (Jn  18"),  and  still  no  enemy  shall  snatch 
them  from  His  hand  (Jn  10'-»).  Even  the  hairs  of 
the  head  of  the  children  of  God  are  objects  of  His 
watchfulness  (Lk  12' 2P*),  to  number  them  and  to 
preserve  them.  So,  truly.  His  service  should  be 
without  fear  (Lk  1'^).  Amid  the  storms  of  this 
changeful  life  we  cry :  '  Carest  thou  not  that  we 
perish  ?'  (Mk  4^),— and  nevertheless  the  very  pur- 
pose of  His  mission  was  and  is  that  we  should  have 
life,  and  have  it  more  abundantly  (Jn  10'°).  There 
is  no  uncertainty  on  His  part,— eternal  life  is  the 
settled  purpose  of  God  for  man  (Jn  6^").  The  grace 
He  bestows  is  in  its  nature  prolific,  and  its  fruit  is 
eternal  life  (Jn  4'-'-  ^).     He  gives  the  Kingdom  of 


CORBAN 


CORLAN 


God  (Lk  1232).  His  message  is  a  gospel  (Mt  i"^). 
His  ears  are  never  closed  to  our  cry  (Mt  21^).  All 
things  are  possible  vnth  Him  (Mk  10"). 

To  these  higher  thoughts  may  be  added  precious 
truths  which  have  a  like  consoling  power  in  the 
conflict  with  evil  ever  surging  within  and  without. 
Our  Lord  knows  our  human  nature  through  and 
through  (Jn  2").  His  purpose  is  to  avert  judg- 
ment and  not  to  condemn  whilst  there  is  time  for 
salvation  (12^').  His  condemnations  were  against 
hypocrisy  and  hardness  of  heart  and  contempt  of 
His  gospel.  He  came  bearing  our  infirmities  and 
saving  us  from  our  sins  (Mt  I-'-  8",  Lk  19'»).  What 
is  done  to  tlie  poor,  sick,  bereaved,  afflicted,  is  done 
to  Him ;  and  He  will  remember  (Mt  25").  His 
blessing  abides  with  the  poor,  meek,  sincere  soul, 
faithful  to  the  end  (Mt  5^"'-  10--).  In  this  life 
the  disciple  must  be  content  to  expect  little  of 
worldly  success,  and  yet  he  shall  not  be  unconsoled 
(Mt  10»,  Mk  lO*",  Jn  16^).  To  His  disciple  Christ 
promises  :  '  I  will  love  thee '  (Jn  14-').  See  also 
art.  Comfort. 

LiTERATi'RE. — Hastings*  2>B,  artt.  *  Paraclete,'  'Comfort.' 
Orimm-Thayer,  Lex.  s.v.  TetpKxXv.s-is. 

W.  B.  rR.\XKLAXD. 

CORBAN  is  a  Hebrew  word  (;3li3)  which  appears 
in  the  Greek  of  Mk  7",  transliterated  KOji^av  or 
/top/3di',  and  in  this  form  passes  into  the  English 
Versions.  The  same  word  in  a  modified  form 
occurs  also  in  Mt  27°,  ei'i  rbv  Kop^avdv,  'into  the 
treasury.'  The  termination  -os  in  Kop^avas  is  the 
Greek  method  of  indicating  the  Aramaic  determin- 
ative in  KJ?-)!?.     Codex  B  reads  Kop^av  for  Kop^avav. 

The  word  has  three  meanings :  ( 1 )  An  offering, 
both  bloodless  and  otherwise.  In  this  sense  it 
occurs  about  80  times  in  OT,  always  in  Leviticus 
and  Numbers,  except  twice  in  Ezekiel.  In  EV  it 
is  rendered  'oflering'  or  'oblation,'  but  in  LXX  it 
is  rendered  by  SCipov, '  a  gift,'  and  this  is  the  tr.  given 
to  Koppdv  infllk7".  (2)  A  vow-oflering,  something 
dedicated  to  God.  In  this  sense  it  occurs  in  the 
Heb.  and  Aram,  portions  of  the  Talmud,  and  also 
in  Josephus.  In  his  Antimtities,  IV.  iv.  4,  Josephus 
says  of  the  Nazirites:  'They  dedicate  themselves 
to  God  as  a  corban,  which  in  the  language  of  the 
Greeks  denotes  "a  gift."'  So  also  in  c.  Apion.  i. 
22,  he  speaks  of  corban  as  a  '  kind  of  oath,  found 
only  among  Jews,  which  denotes  "  a  thing  devoted 
to  God."'  (3)  The  sacred  treasury  into  which  the 
gifts  for  the  Temple  service  were  cast  by  the  pious  ; 
or,  the  treasure  therein  deposited.  Thus,  in 
BJ,  11.  ix.  4,  Josephus  says  that  Herod  '  caused  a 
disturbance  by  spending  the  sacred  treasure,  which 
is  called  corban,  upon  aqueducts.'  So  in  Mt  27* 
the  high  priests  say  to  one  another :  '  It  is  not 
lawful  to  cast  them  (Judas'  silver  pieces)  into  tlie 
treasurj'  [eU  t6i/  Kop^avav,  B*  nop^dv),  for  it  is  the 
price  of  blood.' 

The  passage  in  which  corban  occurs  in  our  Eng- 
lish Bible  is  Mk  7".  Our  Lord  is  there  replying 
to  the  criticism  of  the  Pharisees  that  the  disciples 
ate  food  with  hands  ceremonially  unclean.  Christ's 
reply  is  a  retort.  He  accuses  the  Pharisees  of 
attaching  too  much  value  to  the  tradition  of  the 
elders,  so  as  even  in  some  cases  to  set  aside  in  their 
favour  the  plain  moral  commandments  of  God. 
The  words  of  Jesus  are  :  '  Is  it  well  for  you  to  set 
aside  the  commandment  of  God,  in  order  that 
ve  may  observe  j-our  tradition?  For  Moses  said. 
Honour  thy  father  ami  tliy  mother  ;  and.  He  tliat 
siieaketh  evil  of  fath.  r  mi   muili,  i.  let  him  die  the 

death.    Butyrsay.  1;  i  '   '      li  i  to  hisfatheror 

mother,  That  wli'ii.  v  i  ii  i  ulitest  have  been 
benefited  from  nu-  i~  :      i    is,  a  gift,  [he  is 

absolved].  Ye  no  l.mjr  r  .iIImn',  lnm  to  do  anything 
for  his  father  or  nn.ilni.  I'Ih-  same  incident  is 
recorded,  with  slight  \  mi  iti"!!-.  in  Mt  15''^ 

Commentators  aie  di\ia.Ml   as  to  whether  the 


dedication  was  meant  seriously,  and  the  property 
actually  given  to  God  and  put  into  the  treasury  ; 
or  wliether  the  utterance  of  the  word  was  a  mere 
evasion,  and  when  the  magic  word  corban  had 
been  uttered  over  any  possession,  the  unfilial  son 
was  able  to  'square'  matters  with  the  Rabbis,  so 
as  to  be  free  from  obligation  to  support  his  aged 
parents  (Bruce  on  Mt  15*).  It  must  be  admitted 
that  the  Jews  were  much  addicted  to  making  rash 
vows.  One  tractate  in  tlie  Talmud,  Nedarim,  is 
specially  devoted  to  tlie  subject.  We  there  find 
that  the  customary  formula  among  the  Jews  for 
devoting  anything  to  God  was,  '  Let  it  be  corban ' ; 
though,  to  allow  a  loophole  of  possible  escape  from 
the  vow  if  they  regretted  it  afterwards,  they  were 
in  the  habit  of  using  other  words  which  sounded 
like  corban.  Nedarim,  i.  2,  says  :  '  When  any  one 
says  "  kondm,  or  kondh,  or  konhs  (be  this  object,  or 
this  food),"  these  are  by-names  for  korb&n.'  These 
words  came  to  be  used  as  a  mere  formula  of  inter- 
diction, without  any  intention  of  making  the  thing 
interdicted  '  a  gift  to  God ' ;  e.g. ,  a  man  seeing  his 
house  on  fire,  says,  '  My  tallith  shall  be  corban  if 
it  is  not  burnt"  (Ned.  iii.  6).  In  making  a  vow  of 
abstinence  a  man  says  :  '  Kon6s  be  the  food  (vi.  1) 
or  the  wine  (viii.  1)  which  I  taste.'  When  a  man 
resolves  not  to  plough  a  field,  he  says,  '  KoiiAs  be 
the  field,  if  I  plough  it '  (iv.  7),  Repudiation  of  a 
wife  is  thus  expressed,  '  What  my  wife  might  be 
benefited  by  me  is  konhs  ('S  njri]  "b^n  oiip),  because 
she  has  stolen  my  cup '  or  '  struck  my  son '  (iii.  2). 
In  viii.  11  we  have  the  very  same  formula  as  in 
Mk  7",  except  that  we  have  tlie  subterfuge  or 
substitute,  cjip  for  jj-iB,  •>  njrrj  ma  ojip  (Lowe's 
Mishnd,  p.  88). 

It  is  not  necessary  to  think  that  Jesus  had  such 
cases  of  recklessness  in  His  mind.  We  prefer  to 
believe  that  He  was  thinking  of  bonAfide  vows,  made 
to  the  Temple,  hastily,  perhaps  angrily,  without 
sufficient  regard  to  the  claims  of  aged  parents.  The 
question  was  a  very  intricate  one,  What  ought  the 
Rabbis  to  advise  the  man  to  do?  The  Law  was 
most  emphatic  in  its  insistence  that  all  vows,  when 
once  made,  must  be  kept  (Dt  23-'-'--^).  Which  lias 
the  higher  claim  on  a  man's  conscience  ?  Tlie  service 
of  God,  promoted  by  the  gift,  and  the  Law  obeyed 
by  keeping  the  vow  inviolate?  or,  the  support  of 
poor  aged  parents,  the  Law  broken  and  the  vow 
violated?  It  was  a  delicate  matter,  and  we  can 
scarcely  wonder  that  the  Rabbis  of  Christ's  day 
adhered  to  the  literal  significance  of  Dt  23'-'--',  and  . 
lield  that  nothing  could  justify  the  retractation  of 
a  vow.  In  other  words,  they  allowed  the  literal 
and  the  ceremonial  to  override  the  ethical.  Jesus 
disclosed  a  different '  spirit,'  as  He  ruled  that  duty 
to  parents  is  a  higher  obligation  than  upholding 
■religious  worship,  or  than  observance  of  a  vow 
rashly  or  thoughtlessly  made. 

In  Nedarim,  ix.  1,  we  find  Eliezer  ben  Hyrkanos 
(c.  A.D.  90),  who  in  many  respects  felt  the  influ- 
ence of  Christianity,  give  the  same  view  as  the 
Lord  Jesus  with  regard  to  rash  vows.  We  trans- 
late the  passage  thus— 

'  U.  Eliezersaid  that  when  rash  vows  infringe  at  all  on  parental 
obli^'ations,  Rabbis  should  suggest  a  retractation  (lit. 
"  bv  appealing  to  the  honour  due  to  parents.    Th 

honour 
i  to  God  ;  theu 
length  agreed 


yVtw 


door)  bv  appealing  to  the  honour  due  to  parents.    The  sages 

dissented.    R.  Zadok  said,  instead  of  appealing  ( 

due  to  parenU,  let  them  appeal  to  the  honour  ilut 

might  tash  vows  cease  to  be  made 

with  R.  Eliezer  that  if  the  ease  be  directly 

his  parents  [as  in  Mk  TH),  they  might  suggest 

appealing  to  the  honour  due  to  parents." 

The  words  of  R.  Metr  (c.  A.D.  150)  are  also  inter- 
esting in  this  connexion  as  given  in  Nedarun, 
ix.  4— 

'  One  mav  effect  a  retractation  of  a  rash  vow  by  quoting  what 
is  written  "in  the  Law.  One  may  say  to  him :  It  thou  hailst 
known  that  thou  wast  transgressing  such  commandments  as 
these,  "Thou  shaft  not  take  vengeance  nor  bear  a  grudge '; 


Corn 


Corner-stone 


36f) 


"Thou  Shalt  not  hate  thy  brother  in  thy  heart";  "Thou  Shalt 
love  thy  neighbour  as  thyself  "  [Lv  19i7f] ;  "  Thy  brother  shall 
live  with  thee"  [Lv  25^],— wouldst  thou  have  made  the  vow? 
Perhaps  thy  brother  may  become  poor,  and  thou  (because  of 
tily  rash  vow)  wilt  not  be  able  to  support  him.  If  he  shall  say, 
If  I  had  known  that  it  was  so,  I  would  not  have  made  the  vow, — 
he  may  be  released  from  his  vow.' 

These  quotations  show  that,  in  some  directions, 
the  spirit  of  humaneness  was  triumphing  over  the 
literalism  which  Jesus  combated  in  His  day. 

Literature.  —  The   Mishnio    treatise,    Nedarim ;    artt.    on 


'  Corban ' 


Hastin 


;  Wetstein,  Grotius,  and  Bruce  on  Mt  15S  and  Mk  7"  ;  Light- 
foot's  Hor.  Heb.,  and  Wiinsche's  Ei-tanterung,  in  loco. 

J.  T.  Marshall. 
CORN.— In  AV  of  the  Gospels  'corn'  is  used  to 
translate  four  distinct  words  in  the  original : 

(1)  ffTrSpi/xa :  'Jesus  went  on  tlie  Sabbath  day- 
through  the  corn'  (IVIt  12^).  Here  'corn'  should 
be  'cornfields,'  the  rendering  of  RV  in  this  verse, 
and  of  botli  AV  and  RV  in  the  parallel  passages 
in  Mk.  (2-3)  and  Lk.  (6M.  (riropifia  properly  means 
seed  land  {tnretpu),  and  in  classical  Greek  is  not 
found  in  its  NT  sense  of  '  cornfields.' 

(2)  (TITOS,  in  Mk  4-^,  where  a  contrast  is  drawn 
between  the  difi'erent  stages  in  tlie  growth  of  the 
cornstalk — '  first  the  blade,  then  the  ear,  after  that 
the  full  corn  in  the  ear.'  In  LXX,  as  in  classical 
Greek,  o-iros  is  a  generic  word  for  cereals,  but  refers 
especially  to  wheat  as  the  staple  grain  food.  Corre- 
sponding to  this,  we  find  that  elsewhere  in  the  NT, 
both  in  AV  and  RV,  the  word  is  always  translated 
'wheat'  (Mt  3'=  13=«-  -»■ '»,  Lk  3"  16'  '223i,  Jn  12=«). 

(3)  <rrdxvs=' a.n  ear  of  corn'  (Mt  12'  ||  Mk  4=«). 
So  in  LXX  as  an  equivalent  for  nhip  in  Gn  41=  etc. 

(4)  (t(i/f (COS  =  a  single  grain  or  '  corn.'  It  is  rendered 
'  corn '  only  in  Jn  12^  (AV) :  '  Except  a  com  of 
wheat  [o  KOK/cos  tov  airov]  fall  into  the  ground  and 
die  .  .  .'  (cf.  the  use  of  the  words  'peppercorn,' 
'  barleycorn ').  Elsewhere  in  AV  (Mt  13"  II  17^"  II  ), 
as  always  in  RV,  it  is  rendered  '  a  grain.' 

'  Com '  is  thus  used  in  AV  in  foiu-  distinguishable 
senses — as  applying  to  a  cornfield,  to  a  ripe  coi'n- 
stalk,  to  an  ear  of  wheat,  and  to  a  single  grain. 
And  it  is  noteworthy  in  each  case  how  intimately 
the  Gospel  references  to  corn  are  associated  with 
our  Lord's  revelation  of  the  mysteries  of  the  King- 
dom and  the  truth  regarding  His  own  person  and 
saving  work.  The  parable  of  the  Blade,  the  Ear, 
and  the  Full  Corn  was  used  to  unfold  the  law  of 
growth  in  the  Kingdom  of  God.  The  incident  of 
the  plucking  of  the  ears  of  corn  in  the  cornfields 
on  the  Sabbath  day  served  as  the  occasion  for  a 
notable  declaration  regarding  botli  the  ilii^iiity  of 
the  Son  of  Man  and  the  graciousness  of  liiui  ivliu 
loves  mercy  more  than  sacrifice.  The  ileath  and 
fi-uitful  resurrection  of  the  grain  of  wlieat  became 
the  prophecy  and  type  of  Christ's  Passion  and  con- 
sequent power  to  draw  all  men  unto  Himself.  And 
these  lessons  from  the  corn  in  the  records  of  the 
Lord's  ministry  may  be  greatly  extended  as  we 
recall  what  He'  said  about  the  sowing  of  the  corn 
(parable  of  the  Sower)  and  its  reaping  (the  Tares 
and  the  Wheat) ;  how  He  saw  in  the  white  fields 
a  vision  of  a  great  spiritual  harvest  only  waiting 
to  be  gathered  (Jn  4'=) ;  how  at  Capernaum  He 


turned  the  people's  minds  from  the  barley  bread 
of  the  previous  day's  miracle  to  tliink  of  Himself 
as  the  Bread  of  Li'fe  (Jn  6) ;  and  said  of  the  broken 
loaf  at  the  Last  Supper,  '  Take,  eat,  this  is  my  body.' 
For  further  information  the  reader  is  referred  to 
Agriculture,  Barley,  Sowing,  etc. 

Literature. -Candolle,  OHgine  des  Plantes  Cultitvex  ;  Low, 
Ammdieche  Pjlamennamen  ;  Tristram,  Natural  Uktorij  of  the 
Bible  ;  see  also  Bruder'3  Cmicord.  NT  Greed ;  Grimni-f  hayer's 

''*^-'-^'"-  J.  C.  Lamdert. 

CORNER-STONE  (njs  m-\,  K€4>a\ri  7u>'fas).— The 
quotation  from  Ps  118-  occurs  at  tlie  close  of  the 

VOL.  I.— 24 


parable  of  the  Wicked  Vinedressers  (Mt  21*-,  Mk 
12'",  Lk  20").  A  question  was  asked  about  the 
punishment  of  such  unfaithful  servants  and  the 
transferring  of  the  vineyard  to  the  charge  of  others ; 
and  the  quotation  afforded  Scripture  proof  that 
the  necessity  for  such  a  transference,  however 
surprising  to  those  rejected,  may  actually  arise  in 
God's  administration  of  His  kingdom. 

1.  Literal  mecininfjf  of  corner-stone. — The  term 
'  stone  of  the  corner '  is  applied  in  Palestine  nst 
only  to  the  stones  at  the  extreme  corners  of  a 
building,  but  to  the  stone  inserted  in  any  part  of 
the  outer  wall  to  form  the  beginning  of  an  interior 
room-wall  at  right  angles  to  it.  It  applies  especi- 
ally, however,  to  the  stone  that  is  aKpoyuviaios, 
belonging  to  an  extreme  corner  of  the  building. 
In  the  construction  of  a  large  edifice,  the  founda- 
tions are  generally  laid  and  brought  up  to  the 
surface  of  the  ground,  and  are  then  left  for  several 
months  exposed  to  the  rain,  so  that  the  surround- 
ing earth  may  settle  down  as  close  as  possible  to 
the  wall.  When  the  first  row  of  stones  above  the 
ground  line  is  to  be  laid,  the  masons  place  a  long, 
well-squared  block  of  stone  at  the  corner  to  be  a 
sure  rest  for  the  terminus  of  the  two  walls.  It  is 
tlie  most  important  corner-stone  (Eph  2""). 

2.  Selection  and  treatment  of  the  corner-stone. — 
It  is  always  carefully  chosen,  and  is  specially 
treated  in  view  of  the  service  expected  of  it.  (a) 
It  must  be  sound,  in  the  case  of  sandstone  being 
free  from  weakening  cavities,  and  in  the  case  of 
limestone  being  without  any  white  streaks  of  spar 
that  under  pressure  and  strain  might  lead  to 
cleavage. — (6)  It  must  be  carefully  dressed  so  as  to 
be  quite  a  rectangular  block,  whereas  the  ordinary 
stones  usually  slope  away  at  the  back,  and  the 
empty  spaces  are  filled  in  with  stone  chips  and 
plaster.  It  is  expected  to  be  in  close  and  solid 
contact  with  whatever  is  under  it  and  above  it. — 
(c)  In  preparing  a  place  for  it,  the  mason  gives  it  a 
more  liberal  allowance  of  mortar  so  as  to  increase 
the  power  of  adhesion.  These  qualifications  are 
summarized  in  Is  28"*.  Thus  the  corner-stone  is 
expected  to  be  strong  and  .sound  in  itself,  and  alile 
to  control  the  tier  that  belongs  to  it,  and  clieck  any 
tendency  to  bulge  either  outwards  or  inwards. 

The  thought  of  Mt  21^-'  and  Lk  '20'*  pas.ses  beyond 
the  idea  of  a  corner-stone,  which  is  required  to 
remain  in  its  place,  and  neither  falls  on  any  oiie  nor 
is  fallen  upon.  The  transition  is  so  abrupt  that 
some  have  been  inclined  to  attacli  importance  to 
the  fact  that  the  addition  is  omitted  in  Mk  12'"'-, 
and  that  certain  ancient  authorities  {e.g.  D  33) 
omit  it  even  in  St.  Matthew.  It  is  a  similar  con- 
ception that  appears  in  1  Co  1-^,  1  P  2*- ',  namely, 
tliat  of  a  stumbling-block  on  the  public  highway. 
The  '  way  of  life '  was  a  familiar  religious  term, 
'  the  Way '  being  a  descriptive  epithet  wliich  Christ 
applied  to  Himself  (Jn  14"),  and  one  of  the  first 
designations  of  the  Christian  Church  (Ac  9-).  The 
same  situation  of  conflict  is  presented  in  Is  8'S 
where  the  fear  of  the  Lord  would  be  to  some  a 
sanctuary,  a  place  of  safety  and  rest  by  the  way, 
but  to  others  a  stone  of  stumbling  and  a  rook  of 
offence.  Those  who  marked  out  to  their  own 
liking  the  moral  highway  of  the  nation  had 
obscured  the  truth  that  Israel  existed  for  God,  not 
God  for  Israel,  and  left  no  space  for  the  sufl'erings 
of  Christ.  It  was  an  error  of  blindness  like  that 
of  the  house-builders  concerning  the  rejected 
corner-stone.  They  should  have  made  allowance 
for  the  immovable  object  of  bed-rock  truth  that 
had  the  right  of  priority.  In  the  Syrian  town  of 
Beyrout  one  of  tlie  carriage  roads  has  at  one  point 
a  third  of  its  width  occupied  by  an  ancient  saint- 
shrine,  with  its  small  rough  room  and  dome.  It 
is  a  useless  and  inconvenient  obstacle  to  the  traffic, 
but  any  petition  to  have  it  removed  would  be 


370 


CORNER-STONE 


COSMOPOLITANIS:Nr 


frowned   down   as  an  act  of  irreverence  and  in- 
Jidelity.     The  shrine  was  there  before  the  road. 

3.  Oriental  respect  for  the  huiklers. — In  connexion 
with  the  rejection  of  a  particular  stone,  it  has  to 
he  remembered  that  tlie  ancients  liad  no  explosive 
by  means  of  whicli  to  lighten  their  labours.  The  . 
work  had  to  be  done  by  hammer,  chisel,  and  saw,  I 
though  they  knew  how  to  insert  wooden  wedges 
in  prepared  sockets  in  the  line  of  desired  cleavage, 
and  make  them  expand  by  soaking  with  water. 
They  would  naturally  pass  by  a  stone  that  required 
a  great  deal  of  work  and  jdelded  only  ordinary 
results.  They  carried  this  principle  to  the  length 
of  often  taking  prepared  stones  from  one  building 
for  the  erection  of  another  at  a  considerable  dis- 
tance, as  when  the  carved  stones  of  the  Epbesian 
temple  of  Diana  were  taken  to  build  the  churcli 
of  St.  Sofia  in  Constantinople,  and  the  ruined 
edidces  of  Roman  Csesarea  supplied  the  material 
for  the  city  wall  of  Acre.  It  would,  however, 
sometimes  happen  that  a  stone  discarded  by  cer- 
tain builders  would  be  recognized  by  a  wiser  master 
as  that  which  he  needed  for  an  important  place  in 
his  building,  and  this  gave  rise  to  the  proverbial 
saying  quoted  in  Ps  118-^  which  is  familiarly  re- 
peated and  applied  to-day  in  Syria. 

The  epigrammatic  value  of  the  saying  is  en- 
hanced by  the  fact  that  in  the  East  the  master- 
knowledge  of  the  ditierent  trades  has  always  been 
carefully  guarded,  and  a  sharp  distinction  is  drawn 
between  the  man  who  thinks  and  plans  and  the 
man  who  by  his  elementary  manual  labour  merely 
carries  out  the  orders  of  another.  In  the  art  of 
building,  a  familiar  proverb  says,  '  One  stroke  from 
the  master,  even  though  it  be  behind  his  back,  is 
better  than  the  hammering  of  a  thousand  others.' 
In  explanation  of  this  the  story  is  told  of  a  Lebanon 
prince  who  engaged  a  master-mason  to  Iniild  a  large 
bridge  of  one  arch  over  the  river  Adonis,  and 
agreed  to  defray  all  costs  and  give  the  master  a 
certain  sum  when  the  work  was  done.  When  the 
bridge  was  constructed,  and  nothing  remained  but 
to  rtmove  the  scaffolding,  the  master  chvimed  his 
remuneration ;  and  as  the  prince  argued  for  a  re- 
duction of  the  sum,  the  master  declined  to  remove 
the  scaffolding.  Other  men  were  engaged  to  do 
this,  but  they  found  it  to  be  such  a  complicated 
and  dangerous  task  that  they  abandoned  it,  and 
the  original  builder  had  to  be  called  in  on  liis  own 
terms.  He  stepped  forward,  and.  standing  witli 
his  back  to  the  network  of  supportinj.'  lio.ams,  gave 
a  single  ta.p  with  his  ImmnuT  to  ,i  [iii  tii  ular  wedge. 
Its  removal  liberatfil  tin-  Mi]'|i'iii~.  :iiiil  as  he 
hurriedly  sprang  bail;,  tliu  .-(.alinl.liiiu  .ulUipsed, 
and  left  the  empty  arcli  vi  Ihu  Lumiiloled  bridge. 
He  alone  knew  how  to  do  it.  Similar  proverbs  are 
current  with  regard  to  the  baker,  tailor,  carpenter, 
blacksmith,  teacher,  doctor,  and  almost  every  form 
of  technical  industry  and  specialized  profession. 
The  master  in  his  trade  oc('upies  a  position  of 
respect  similar  to  that  of  the  father  in  the  family 
and  the  slieikli  in  tlie  tribe.  In  no  department  is 
thi-  Mil,iiu~-i..ii  mi. IV  tlionni-IiL'f.ing  than  in  the 
dcfri-M.-.  -lH,.,Mi  In  il)i.  ll.il.lii-  ;ni,l  prlests  as  the 
trai I  lu.i-iii-  ni  irli-ii.u^  1.1,,.  I  \ance  and  ecclesi- 
astical .luiy.  Ill  r,>ns,.,ni.jnr.:.  ,,f  this  the  people 
of  the  country  find  a  keen  tliough  guarded  enjoy- 
ment in  any  situation  that  seems  to  discredit  the 
W'isdom  of  the  wise. 

i.  Figurative  applications  of  the  corner-stone. — 
In  Jg  20=  and  1  S  14^  the  word  pinnMh  ('corner- 
stones') is  translated  'the  chiefs'  of  the  people, 
as  being  those  whose  opinions  and  actions  gave 
stability  and  direction  to  others.  In  Is  19'^  it  is 
stated  that  the  error  of  Egj'pt  was  through  her 
trust  in  the  princes  of  Zoan'  and  Noph,  who  were 
the  corner-stones  of  her  tribes.  In  the  East,  the 
jiiason  in  laying  a  row  of  stones  begins  with  the 


corner-stone,  and  some  twelve  feet  fartlier  down, 
or  at  tlie  other  terminus  of  the  wall,  if  it  be  short, 
another  stone  of  the  same  height  is  laid  with  liiue, 
and  then  the  mason's  measuring-line  is  stretched 
tiglitly  over  the  outer  top-corner  of  each.  This 
gives  the  line  of  frontage  and  elevation  to  all  the 
stones  that  till  in  the  space  between  them.  Zoan 
and  Noph,  the  comer-stones,  being  themselves  in 
a  false  position,  ati'ected  all  between  that  took 
measure  from  them.  In  Zeph  1'^  3"  tlie  same 
word  is  translated  '  towers,'  as  the  corners  of  the 
wall  were  especially  fortified ;  and  in  2  Cli  26'^ 
'bulwarks'  (KV  in  all  three  passages  'battle- 
ments'). In  Job  38''  the  act  of  laj'ing  the  founda- 
tion corner-stone  of  a  house  is  made  to  describe 
that  of  the  creation  of  the  world.  In  Jer  51-^  the 
inability  of  Babylon  to  furnish  any  more  a  corner- 
stone is  made  to  figure  its  perpetual  desolation.  In 
Zee  lO'',  in  the  prophecy  of  the  pre-eminence  of 
Judah,  the  corner-stone  is  a  conspicuous  emblem, 
along  with  the  tent-peg  and  tlie  bow,  as  signifying 
that  that  tribe  was  to  excel  in  the  peaceful  in- 
dustries of  the  city  and  the  field,  and  in  the  art  of 
war. 

Such  were  the  meanings  of  the  rejected  corner- 
stone that  in  their  Messianic  application  were 
hidden  from  tliose  wlio  crucified  the  Lord  of  glory 
(1  Co  2*),  but  were  revealed  to  the  Gentiles,  the 
'other  husbandmen,'  when  tlie  word  of  acceptance 
and  service  came  to  them  (Eph  2"''-^). 

It  is  a  tragical  error  to  suppose  that  the  message 
of  the  rejected  cornerstone  was  exhausted  in  the 
forfeiture  and  fate  of  Israel.  The  city  of  God  i.s 
still  being  built,  and  blindness  with  regard  to  the 
comer-stone,  the  mystical  presence  and  the  mis- 
sionary command  of  Christ,  may  again  expose  the 
builders  to  scorn,  and  necessitate  another  trans- 
ference of  the  service. 

LiTERAn-RE.— IlastiDgs'  DB,  art.  '  Comer-stone ' ;  Expositor, 
5th  ser.  ix.  [1899J  p.  35ff. ;  Expos.  Timfs,  vii.  372,  xiv.  384; 
Jonathan  Edwards,  )rort5[tS40J,  ii.  p.  61  ff. ;  Maclaren,  Sarmoiu 
Preached  in  Manchester,  1st  ser.  p.  1  fl. 

G.  M.  Mackie. 
COSAM. — A  name  occurring  in  the  Lukan  gene- 
alogy of  our  Lord  (Lk  3-^). 

COSMOPOLITANISM.— That  the  Jews  were  of  all 
nations  the  most  exclusive,  was  familiar  to  classic 
writers  (cf.  Juv.  Sat.  xiv.  103  '  non  monstrare  vias 
eadem  nisi  sacra  colenti,'  and  Mayor's  references 
adloc.) ;  though  both  political  and  social  conditions 
in  the  1st  cent,  had  made  cosmopolitanism  more 
possible  tlian  it  had  ever  been  before  (cf.  Juv.  ib. 
iii.  62  'inTiberimSyriusdefiuxitOrontes').  Under 
the  Roman  emperors  the  world  was  becoming  more 
and  more  one  great  State  ;  St.  Paul's  Roman  citizen- 
ship stood  him  in  good  stead  in  Philippi  as  in  Jeru- 
salem (Ac  16-'  22'^).  Even  in  Palestine  there  were 
distinctly  cosmopolitan  elements,  as  was  inevitable 
in  the  case  of  a  country  lying  across  the  great 
trade  routes  of  the  world.  Decapolis  was  almost 
entirely  Greek  ;  in  Galilee  there  had  for  long  been 
a  large  Gentile  population  ;  and  foreigners  as  well 
as  proselytes  from  all  parts  of  the  empire  found 
tlieir  way  to  Jerusalem  (Ac  2'  ;  see  Schiirer,  II JP. 
Index,  s.  '  Hellenism ' ;  and  Merrill,  Galilee  in  the 
Time  of  Christ).  The  presence  of  foreigners,  how- 
ever, is  seldom  mentioned  in  the  Gosjiels,  save  for 
a  few  references  to  centurions  (Mt8',  Lk  7=  23"), 
strangers  from  Tyre  and  Sidon  (Mk  3'),  a  short  jour- 
ney to  Decapolis  (Mk  7",  where,  strangely  enough, 
tlie  Aramaic  word  '  Ephphatha '  finds  special  place 
in  the  text),  and  the  notice  of  the  Greeks  who 
sought  for  Jesus  at  the  feast — though  no  account  of 
His  inter«ew  with  them  is  given  (Jn  12™).  Traces 
of  a  cosmopolitan  atmosphere  may  be  detected  in 
Mk  15='  ('  Simon,  father  of  Alexander  and  Rufus '), 
in  the  Greek  names  of  two  of  the  disciples  (Andrew 


COSMOPOLITANISM 


COUCH 


371 


and  Philip),  and  the  trilingual  '  title '  on  the  cross 
(Jn  19»). 

Jewish  exclusiveness  was  apparently  endorsed 
by  Christ  Himself  (Mt  5"  (RV)  6'-  »=) ;  the  Twelve 
are  forbidden  to  go  into  any  way  of  the  Gentiles 
(Mt  10^) ;  and  the  Syrophoenician  woman  is  at  first 
addressed  in  thoroughly  Jewish  language  (Mt  15", 
Mk  T*).  On  the  other  hand,  our  Lord  speaks  the 
parable  of  the  Good  Samaritan  (Lk  lO^™-) ;  com- 
mends the  faith  of  a  Roman  centurion  as  greater 
than  any  faith  He  had  found  in  Israel  (Mt  8'°,  Lk 
7") ;  and,  notwithstanding  His  first  words  to  the 
Syrophoenician  woman,  recognizes  and  rewards  tlie 
greatness  of  her  faith  (Mt  IS^i"-,  Mk  7^^-}.  Simeon 
welcomes  the  infant  Messiah  as  a  light  to  lighten 
the  Gentiles  (Lk  2'-),  in  spite  of  the  markedly 
Jewish  tone  of  Lk  1  and  2.  St.  Matthew  is  the 
narrator  of  the  visit  of  Wise  Men  from  the  East 
(Mt  2') ;  and  if  he  traces  the  genealogy  of  Christ 
to  Abraham  (Mt  1"),  St.  Luke  takes  it  back  to 
Adam  and  God  (Lk  3^8). 

It  is  true  that  the  Gospels  are  full  of  protests 
against  Jewish  exclusiveness  (Mt  3"  'Think  not 
to  say  within  yourselves,  We  have  Abraham  to  our 
father';  cf.  Jn  8^'"-,  where  the  claim  founded  on  de- 
scent from  Abraham  is  contemptuously  dismissed  ; 
alsoMtl2"'-,LklP"- 'themenof  Nineveli  .  .  .  the 
queen  of  Sheba  shall  rise  up  in  the  judgment  with 
this  generation  and  sliall  condemn  it' ;  Mt  8"'-,  Lk 
13°'  '  many  shall  come  from  the  east  and  the  west 
.  .  .  but  the  sons  of  the  kingdom  shall  be  cast 
forth ' ;  and  Mt  1 1'^',  Lk  10",  where  tlie  unrepentant 
Bethsaida  and  Chorazin  are  contrasted  ^vith  Tyre 
and  Sidon).  So  far  as  this  break  witli  tlie  Jews  shows 
itself,  it  rests  on  («)  enthusiasm  for  humanity  ;  cf. 
esp.  the  references  to  publicans  and  sinners,  Mt  9" 
1P»,  Mk  2'S  Lk  5»  7"  15',  and  the  fragment  in 
Jn  7''-8" ;  (6)  the  universalism  of  the  gospel,  Mt 
24",  Mk  14"  ('  what  she  hath  done  shall  be  preached 
in  all  the  world'),  Mt  28i»,  Mk  16^=,  Lk  2i^'-> 
('make  disciples  of  all  the  nations');  so  Jn  3'" 
12^  ('I,  if  I  be  lifted  up,  will  draw  all  men  unto 
myself);  the  same  thing  would  result  from  Mt 
20^8,  Mk  10«  ('  to  give  his  life  a  ransom  for  many '), 
if  carried  out  to  its  logical  conclusion  ;  ('■)  anti- 
legalism  in  regard  to  the  Sabbath  (Mt  12',  Mk  2-^ 
Lk  6'  13"),  ceremonial  ablutions  (Mt  15',  Mk  7'"), 
the  provisions  of  the  Law  (Mt  5'-'-  '■'''■  '■^- "),  and  the 
inadequacy  of  the  righteousness  of  the  scribes  and 
Pharisees  (Mt  5'-").  It  is  noteworthy  that  the 
ground  of  marriage  fidelity  is  carrii-il  l);iik  fnim 
Moses  to  the  Creation  (Ml  lit^.  Mk  lo''i.  :nu\  ili.- 
Sadducees  are  referred,  1)11  tlic-uliini  cii  ili.'  i.-m 
rection,  to  God's  langua-i-  (o  tin:  |uv-M(,„u.  |uiii 
archs  (Mk  121",  Lk  20''') ;  .-(ill  Chiist  ic-ards  a., 
final  a  combination  of  Dt  6^  and  Lv  19'"  (Mk  12™'^), 
and  He  asserts  that  His  purjiose  is  not  to  destroy 
the  Law  but  to  fulfil  it  (Mt  5",  cf.  Mt  3'"). 

The  real  nature  of  Christ's  teaching  cannot  be 
understood  apart  from  the  deductions  from  it  in 
the  Acts,  where  the  recognition  of  the  cosmo- 
politanism of  the  gospel  is  forced  on  the  Apostles 
almo.st  against  their  will  {Ar.  S"'  10"-'*  11="),  and 
even  opposed  by  a  powerful  party  in  the  Cluirch 
when  explicitly  stated  by  St.  I'aul  (Ac  15=)  :  but  it 
reaches  its  full  statement  in  Ro  1U'=,  Gal  3-«,  Col 
I  ('neither  Jew  nor  Greek,  bond  nor  free'),  and 
Ph3=<'('our  citizenship  is  in  heaven').  (Cf.  J.  R. 
Seeley,  Ecce  Homo,  ch.  xii.  '  The  Universality  of 
the  Christian  Republic ').  It  will  thus  be  seen  that 
the  recognition  of  cosmopolitanism  in  the  sense 
of  a  universal  mission  of  (Christianity  is,  in  the 
Synoptic  Gospels,  only  slight  (cf.  Harnack,  E.r- 
pansion  of  Christinnitij,  Eng.  tr.  vol.  i.  pp.  40-48, 
especially  the  statement  that,  omitting  what  is 
probably  unauthentic,  'Mark  and  Matthew  have 
almost  consistently  withstood  the  temptation  to 
introduce  the  Gentile  mission  into  the  words  and 


deeds  of  Jesus,'  p.  40).  St.  Luke  differs  from  them 
in  a  slight  colouring  of  expression  rather  than  in 
the  narration  of  fresh  facts.  St.  John  had  both 
watched  and  taken  part  in  the  expansion  ;  but  the 
universalism  of  the  Fourth  Gospel  is  chiefly  con- 
fined to  tlie  striking  use  of  the  expression  'the 
>vorld'  (see  above  and  i*-  6"  12"  17^  etc.),  which 
silently  bears  out  the  view — to  a  Christian,  abund- 
antly confirmed  after  70  A.D. — that  the  Jews  were 
a  reprobate  people.  From  the  rejection  of  one  race 
followed  the  acceptance  of  all  (Ro  11"-'=).  See 
also  articles  ExcLusivENE.ss,  Grecians,  and  Uni- 
versalism. W.  F.  LOFTHOUSE. 

COUCH.— The  word  '  couch '  is  found  in  Lk  5"-  -* 
(as  tr.  of  kKivISlov),  where  Mt  9=-  ^  and  Mk  2*-  "  \\&\e 
'bed'  (kX(h7  and  Kpd/3aTTos  respectively;  KXlvq  also 
in  Lk  5'*).  It  is  found  also  in  RVm  of  Mk  1*  as 
tr.  of  KKlrq.  In  Ac  5"*,  where  the  AV  and  RV 
have  '  beds  and  couches,'  the  correct  text  is  iiri 
KXivaplui'  Kai  Kpa^aTTwv,  'small  beds  and  couches,' 
or,  as  some  render,  '  small  couches  and  beds.'  The 
fact  is,  the  terms  used  for  '  couch '  and  '  bed '  are 
not  always  sharply  distinguished — certainly  not 
by  translators.  The  distinction  made  by  Bengel 
and  Kuinoel  between  kXij'cDj'  (TR  of  Ac  5'*)  and  Kpa- 
piTTuv,  that  the  former  denotes  'soft  and  costly,' 
and  the  latter  '  poor  and  humble,'  beds  is  quite 
arbitrary  (Meyer).  In  English  usage  the  distinc- 
tion between  '  bed  '  and  '  couch  '  is  clear  enough  ; 
a  couch  is  a  piece  of  furniture  on  which  it  is 
customary  to  repose  or  recline  when  dressed.  A 
like  distinction  was  made  by  the  Romans,  and  in 
a  measure  by  the  Jews  in  the  time  of  Christ,  when 
'  couches '  were  often  used  for  the  purpose  of 
reclining  at  meals.  They  were  known  among  the 
Romans  as  triclinia,  because  they  ran  round  three 
sides  of  a  table.  Such  '  couches '  were  undoubtedly 
in  common  use  among  the  Jews  of  Christ's  day, 
though  they  are  not  mentioned  in  the  Gospels  in 
express  terms,  unless,  against  the  best  authorities, 
we  accei)t  icai  kKivCiv  in  Mk  "i*.  They  were  provided 
with  cushions,  such  as  are  now  in  vogue,  on  which 
the  left  elbow  could  rest,  so  as  to  leave  the  right 
arm  free ;  and  were  often  arranged  around  three 
sides  of  a  table  in  the  form  of  a  parallelogram,  the 
fourth  side  of  wliiili  was  left  oiien  for  the  con- 


Thi^ 


how  tail  iiviaileil  in  Palestine,  and  state  that 
even  in  ili  i:  i s  .ouches  of  rare  and  costly  wood  in- 
laid with  _   II,     J          I    I  >  presents  from  Palestine  to  Egypt. 

KeepiiiL;  tins  in  mind  will  throw  light  on  some 
otherwise  obscure  passages  in  the  Gospels,  e.fi. 
where  the  woman  is  spoken  of  (Lk  'J^-'^)  as  wash- 
ing and  anointing  the  feet  of  Jesus  while  He  was 
'  sitting  (reclining)  at  meat  in  the  Pharisee's 
lii.UM-';  where  our  Lord  washed  the  feet  of  His 
ili^.ii.Ie,  while  they  were  at  supper  (Jn  13^);  and 
^^h^'re  it  is  said  of  the  beloved  disciple  at  the 
supper  that  he,  '  leaning  back,  as  he  was,  on 
Jesus'  breast,'  spoke  to  Him  of  His  betrayer  (v.-'). 

There  is  reason  to  believe,  however,  that  among 
the  Jewish  people  in  general,  in  the  most  ancient 
times  and  later,  the  'bed,'  so  far  as  use  went,  was 
'  bed '  and  '  couch '  in  one— a  plain  wooden  frame 
with  feet  and  a  slightly  raised  end  for  the  head 
(Gn  47"'),  differing  very  little,  indeed,  from  the 
bed  of  the  Egyptians  reiiresented  on  the  monu- 
ments (Wilkinson,  Anc.  E<j.  i.  416,  fig.  10I>  I" 
the  daytime  and  at  meals  people  sat  on  it,  in  the 
most  ancient  times,  perhaps,  with  crossed  legs ;  and 


372 


COUNCIL,  COUNCILLOR 


COURTESY 


then  at  night  thej-  placed  it  here  or  there,  as  the 
season  or  need  suggested,  and  slept  on  it.  In  the 
East  to-day  tlie  beds  are  often  made  by  laying 
bolsters  on  the  raised  part  of  the  floor,  or  on  the 
low  divans  which  nui  along  the  walls,  and  the 
sitting-room  of  the  day  becomes  a  bedroom  at 
night.     (See  BED,  CLOSET).         Geo.  B.  Eager. 

CODNCIL,  COUNCILLOR.— See  Sanhedrix. 

COUNSELS  OF  PERFECTION.— See  Perfec- 
tion" (human). 

COUNTENANCE.-See  Face. 

COURAGE.— di/opifo/uai,  the  Gr.  equivalent  for 
Heb.  pin  and  ppx,  is  not  found  in  the  Gospels, 
and,  e.vcept  in  l'  Co  W',  not  in  the  XT.  Tlie 
valour  of  the  battlefield,  so  often  commended  in 
the  OT,  nowhere  comes  into  view.  Christ's  king- 
dom is  not  of  tliis  world.  It  does  not  call  for  the 
prowess  of  the  warrior.  But  there  was  no  taint  of 
cowardice  in  Jesus,  and  to  be  His  disciple  did  not 
involve  any  slackening  of  moral  fibre,  or  impairing 
of  true  manliness.  He  foresaw  a  situation  bristling 
with  menace  to  His  followers,  and  courage  was 
therefore  a  prime  desideratum  in  His  disciples,  as 
it  was  an  outstanding  quality  of  His  own  nature. 
With  unsparing  hand  He  lifted  the  curtain  of  the 
future,  and  disclosed  to  all  who  would  follow  Him 
the  hostility  and  peril  which  discipleship  must 
involve  (Mt  5"  10'«°»  24»f-,  Mk  13"'^  Lk  21"";  Jn 
IS-"  16=).  He  who  would  follow  Christ  must  not 
be  faint-hearted  or  double-minded  (Lk  9'-),  he 
must  be  prepared  to  surrender  many  interests  that 
were  formerly  dear  to  him,  brace  himself  even  to 
the  renunciation  of  the  closest  earthly  relationships, 
and,  recognizing  that  the  disciple  is  not  greater  than 
his  Master,  be  ready  to  tread  tlie  same  rougli  path, 
and  bear  the  same  cro-;-^.  Thi-  .Icmand  for  courage 
is  all  the  more  serrv  tli,u  ii  i-  not  the  courage 
of  resisting,  but  of  emUiiin-  \M"nu.  The  disciple 
of  Jesus  is  called  to  inuekiie^.  to  the  patient  en- 
durance of  suffering  wrongfully  inflicted,  to  the 
heroism  of  a  calm  and  trustful  lieart.  But  the 
meek  temper  is  not  the  sign  of  weakness.  It  is 
restrained  strength.  It  is  the  high  courage  of  en- 
durance, in  the  spirit  .and  for  the  sake  of  Christ. 
It  is  of  this  sustained  heroism  th.at  Jesus  says,  '  In 
your  patience  (uttomoi'^,  'patient  endurance')  ye 
shall  win  your  souls'  (Lk  21"),  '  He  that  endure'th 
to  the  end  shall  be  saved'  (Mt  10'"  24")  ;  and  tliuse 
who,  in  spite  of  pain  and  persecution,  confess  Him 
before  men.  He  declares  He  will  confess  before  His 
Father  and  the  holy  angels  (Lk  12',  cf.  Mt  10'-"). 

Of  this  high  moral  courage  .Fesus  IlimseU'  is  the 
supreme  example.  The  emphasis  which  is  so 
rightly  laid  upon  His  gentleness  and  compassion 
tends  to  obscure  His  strength  and  virility.  But 
the  remark  in  Ac  4''  '  AVhen  they  saw  the  bold- 
ness of  Peter  and  John  .  .  .  they  took  knowledge 
of  them  that  they  had  been  with  Jesus,'  is  tlie 
record  of  the  dominant  impression  made  by  .lesus 
upon  His  enemies.  The  ilepth  and  warmth  of  His 
sympathy  had  not  deluded  them  into  the  thought 
that  He  was  deficient  in  courage.  They  bore  wit- 
ness to  His  fearlessness  and  fidelity  to  truth  (.In 
7-",  Mt  22'").  His  fearless  exposure  of  hypocrisy 
(Mt  15'■'^  -Mk  7'-",  Mt  2.3>-»»  et  al.).  His  disregard 
of,  or  ojjposition  to,  religious  practices  wliich  had 
been  invested  with  the  sanctity  of  Divine  law,  and 
the  performance  of  which  was  the  hall-mark  of 
righteousness  (Mt  9»  12'- »,  Mk  2'«-=»  7',  Lk  5™  B'-"), 
His  defiance  of  social  and  religious  caste  in 
receiving  sinners  and  eating  Avith  them  were  tlie 
iiwral  utterances  of  a  courageous  righteousness  ami 
love  (Mt  9'°,  Lk  15°).  In  circumstances  of  danger 
He  is  calm  and  self-possessed  (Mt  8=").     He  does 


not  rush  into  danger,  and  more  than  once  retires; 
from  scenes  where  His  life  is  threatened  (Lk  4'°, 
Jn  8=''  lO^').  At  those  times  He  felt  that  His  hour 
had  not  come.  His  courage  was  inspired  by  faith 
in  God  (Mt  8™),  and  was  controlled  by  obedience 
to  the  Divine  wiU.  When  He  knows  that  His 
hour  has  come.  He  presses  to  the  cross  with  an 
eagerness  which  made  those  who  saw  Him  afraid 
(>Ik  10*-).  But  it  is  only  as  we  enter  into  the 
consciousness  of  Jesus  and  see  Him  in  His  perfect 
purity  of  soul  taking  upon  Him  the  sin  of  the 
world,  that  we  feel  the  wonder  of  His  heroism. 
We  do  not  marvel  that  He  shrank  from  the  cu]> 
His  Father  gave  Him  to  drink.  We  are  amazed 
equally  at  the  love  and  at  the  courage  whicli  bore 
Him  through  until  He  said,  'It  is  finished'  (Jn  Iff"). 
See,  further.  Fear. 

Literature.— Hastings'  DB,  art. '  Courage' ;  Aristotle,  Ethics, 
iii.  6-9  ;  Denney,  Gospel  Questions  a7id  Answers,  p.  85  flf. 

Joseph  Muie. 
COURSE.— See  Abijah,  and  Priest. 

COURT  {avXri,  tr.  'court 'in  Rev  11=,  'sheepfold' 
or  '  fold '  in  Jn  10'- "',  and  '  palace '  [RV  '  court '] 
in  Mt  26'-  *'  etc. ). * — The  '  court '  is  an  essential  part 
of  the  typical  Oriental  house.  The  Eastern  house 
represented  on  the  monuments  of  Egypt  and 
Assyria  is  much  like  that  now  found,  and  doubt- 
less found  in  the  time  of  Christ,  in  Palestine.  It 
is  built  around  an  open  square  called  '  the  court,' 
into  which  each  room  opens,  seldom  one  room  into 
another.  Sometimes  the  house  has  more  than  one 
'  court,'  if  the  wealth  or  the  official  station  of  the 
owner  warrants  it. 

In  the  richer  private  .and  public  houses  the 
'  court '  is  fitted  up  with  great  magnificence.  In 
Damascus  we  find  several  courts  connected  with  a 
single  house,  in  some  cases  of  rare  richness  and 
beauty.  The  houses  of  two  or  more  storeys  have 
chambers  on  each  floor  opening  on  to  a  common 
balcony  running  round  the  inside  of  the  court, 
with  a  staircase  in  a  corner  of  the  court  open  to 
the  sky.  This  type  of  '  court '  is  usually  paved 
with  marble  or  flagging,  and  has  a  well  or  foun- 
tain in  the  centre  (2  S  17'*),  with  orange  and  lemon 
trees  and  other  shrubs  .around  it.  Some  of  tliem 
are  planted  with  choice  tropical  trees,  and  the 
walls,  verandahs,  staircases,  etc.,  are  covered  and 
adorned  with  creepers  and  vines  oif  untold  varietie.s. 

In  Mt  26«»  it  is  .said  that  '  Peter  sat  without,  ii> 
■nj  aiiXJ,'  i.e.  in  the  'court'  of  the  high  priest's 
house  (v.-™).  It  w.as  during  the  trial  of  Jesus  ;  and 
'  without '  is  used  in  contrast  with  an  implied 
'  within ' — the  interior  of  tlie  .audience-room  in 
which  Jesiis  w.is  .ipin-aiiiiL:  ln'foie  the  authorities. 
Peter  wa>  n.it  allo^^,■,l  int..  this  room,  but  was 
out  in  th.'  i.|.iii  air  ..t  tlir  ■...urt";  and  this  was 
'beneatir  (Mk  14*' i.  i.e.  >m  a  suiiiewhat  lower  level 
than  the  audience-chamlter. 

The  'court  of  the  Gentiles,'  wliich  was  'without 
tlie  temple'  (Rev  11=),  was  on  the  lowest  level  or 
terrace  of  the  Holy  Mountain,  and  .separated  from 
the  'Sanctuary'  or  'Mountain  of  the  Honse'  by  a 
stone  wall  four  or  five  feet  high,  called  '  the 
Soreg.'  AH  Gentiles  were  warned  to  remain  out- 
side of  this  sacred  enclosure  under  penalty  of 
death  (cf.  Ac  2I=«-  =»  24"  26='}.  See  also  artt.  DoOR, 
House.  Geo.  B.  Eager. 

COURTESY The  courtesies  of  life  have  always 

received  more  strict  and  formal  recognition  in  the 
East  than  in  the  West.  The  people  of  Palestine 
in  Christ's  time  were  no  exception  to  this  rule. 
They  were  punctilious  about  tliose  conventional 
forms  which  hedge  in  and  govern  social  life,  and 
were  not  slow  to  resent  the  breach  or  neglect  of 


COYEXANT 


COVENANT 


these  forms  when  it  att'ected  them  directly  (Mt 
22^-',  Lk  W^--^).  A  remarkably  complete  picture 
of  the  ordinary  forms  of  courtesy  observed  by 
them  may  be  made  up  from  the  Gospel  narratives. 
The  incidents  of  Christ's  life,  together  witli  His 
sayings  and  parables,  show  us  the  marked  defer- 
ence paid  to  authority,  position,  and  learning  (Mt 
1714  22'6-  24  23«-  '  etc.),  the  elaborate  and  somewhat 
burdensome  hospitality  bestowed  on  friends  and 
strangers  when  received  as  guests  into  a  house 
(Lk  T"-**),  the  embracings  and  prolonged  saluta- 
tions practised  (Mt  26",  Mk  14« ;  cf.  Lk  10«-  IS-^" 
22^',  Mt  10'2),  the  formalities  observed  in  connexion 
Arith  feasts  in  rich  men's  houses  (Mt  22'^,  Lk  14"). 
These  courteous  habits  must  not  be  regarded  as 
mere  superficial  forms.  Tlie  fact  that  the  neglect 
of  them,  especially  if  believed  to  be  intentional, 
caused  such  serious  offence  to  the  suffering  party, 
is  a  sufficient  evidence  that  they  were  more  than 
surface  forms.  At  the  same  time  the  courtesies 
practised  were  not  always  .sincere  (note  the  kiss  of 
Judas),  and  were,  moreover,  occasionally  violated 
in  a  peculiarly  flagrant  manner,  as  we  learn  from 
the  treatment  Christ  received  once  and  again  from 
those  who  opposed  Him,  especially  the  treatment 
He  received  immediately  before  His  death.  The 
warm  Oriental  temperament,  indeed,  which  had 
so  much  to  do  with  creating  these  courtesies,  and 
which  found  so  much  satisfaction  in  observing  them, 
was  ready,  under  certain  circumstances,  to  violate 
them  to  an  extent  that  the  colder  Western  tem- 
perament would  never  have  done. 

Christ's  attitude  towards  the  established  rules  of 
courtesy  is  a  question  of  interest  and  importance. 
His  relation  towards  these  time-worn  rules  was  the 
same  as  His  relation  towards  the  Law  of  Moses. 
He  observed  them  in  the  spirit  and  not  in  the 
letter,  and  only  in  so  far  as  they  .sincerely  re- 
vealed His  thoughts  and  feelings.  They  were 
never  mere  forms  to  Him,  much  less  forms  used 
to  hide  the  real  intents  of  His  heart.  That  His 
attitude  was  not  the  conventional  attitude  of 
others,  but  was  peculiar  to  Himself,  like  His  atti- 
tude towards  the  Law  (Mt  5"),  is  evident  from  the 
following  considerations:  (1)  He  recognized  and 
followed  the  customary  laws  in  so  far  as  they 
served  to  express  His  real  sentiments  (Lk  T"""*  10^, 
Jn  13^f-) ;  (2)  He  transgressed  them  boldly  a.t  times, 
as  in  His  cleansing  of  the  Temple,  His  injunction 
'  Salute  no  man  by  the  way '  (Lk  10^),  and  His  iuter- 
course  with  tax-gatherers  and  sinners  ;  (3)  He  gave 
a  larger  and  more  humane  interpretation  to  them 
by  His  generous  and  considerate  treatment,  not 
only  of  tax-gatherers  and  sinners,  but  of  women, 
children,  Samaritans,  and  others  who  were  re- 
garded as  more  or  less  outside  the  ordinary  rules 
of  courtesy. 

There  are  two  instances  where  Jesus  seems  to 
fail  in  the  niatter  of  co  iites> — m  Hi  re]  ly  to  His 
mother,  '  Woman  1  at  1  i^  e  I  to  lo  itli  thee 
(.In  2*),  and  in  Hi  i  il\  to  tl  e  Jsyro  fh  enitian 
woman,  '  Let  the  d  Idren  In  t  be  I  He  1  toi  it  1 
not  meet  to  take  tl  e  ( bil  hen  s  1  rea  1  an  I  to  ta  t 
it  unto  the  dogs'  (Mt  15  "  Mk  "  )  It  is  only  in 
appearance,  howe\  ei  tl  at  He  offends  against 
courtesy  in  these  in  tance  The  st  idy  of  the 
])assages  with  the  ai  I  of  a  „ood  commentary  a\  ill 
clear  up  any  difficulty  attacl  in^  to  them 

LiTERATnRB._Van  Len  ei  B  Me  La  ids  tie  Mode  11  C  8 
loim  ;  G.  M.  Mackie,  B  le  Ma  e  a  dC  isUs  Ge  k  e  Holy 
Land  o»id  the  Bible  Rot  n  o  B  h  al  Re  earches  Pale 
tine  [contains  passim  personal  e  per  en  es  »h  ch  throw  1  eht 
on  the  tedious  courtes  es  of  the  tast]  Marten  en  Chnst  a 
i'Mtcs,  L    202ff.  ;T.  Bnne       S  r?  la     t  de 

in  the  Chriatian  Charac  e     j        Iff  f 

Common  Life,  p.  107  ff     E^pu     0     1  If 

.  COVENANT. -Ii    or  lei  t 

sioii  of  the  term    covenant    a  v  o  u 


i-ey  of  the  OT 


Loril   in   the  Gospels,  a  brief 
usage  is  necessary. 


The  covenant  conception  is  of  frequent  occurrence  in  the  OT. 
Used  at  first  in  connexion  with  single  transactions  and  partial 
aspects  of  the  relitfious  intercourse  between  God  and  man,  it 
later  becomes  the  formula  designating-  the  entire  structure  and 
content  of  the  reliirionof  Israel  in  its  most  comprehensive  sense. 
This  latter  representation  occui-s  as  early  as  Gn  1711^,  Ex  195 
24"-  8,  and  often  in  Deuteronomy.  The  earlier  covenants  be- 
longing to  the  time  of  Noah  and  Abraham  (Gn  618  98-17  15I8)  do 
not  yet  possess  this  comprehensive  character,  but  appear  as 
solemn  religious  rites  whereby  some  particular  promise  of  God 
is  made  sure.  Whether  the  word  b'rlth  (n'13)  originally  meant 
'enactment,'  'appointment,'  'law,'  a  meaning  which  it  un- 
doubtedly has  in  several  instances,  or  did  from  the  beginning 
signify  a  two-sided  agreement,  cannot  be  determined  with 
certainty.  It  seems  easier  to  conceive  of  the  fomier  sense  as 
developed  out  of  tlie  latter  than  the  reverse.  At  any  rate,  the 
comprehensive  signification  in  whi'-li  it  slands  for  the  whole 
religious  relationship  betwtcn  i;."!  ainl  [-t:u-l,  rests  on  the  idea 
of  the  covenant  as  a  twu-^i'lr.l  ,,- 1  ■  -  im  nt.  It  should  be  re- 
membered, however,  that.  iIm  i  v\m  -iiinhi,  ,^  never  extends  so 
far  that  God  and  Israel  aii]i.  u  .  u  m  ,,|;!:,l  f.-oting  in  the  de- 
terniinntinn  of  tlv  -■n\i'i,;.ni       I  I,-    ].'  innitij  and  proposing  of 


IS  strongly  empha- 
I  lie  covenant  idea 
.  historically  origin- 


Deity  and  the  1 

head  after  a  deistic  fashion  is  so  far  removed  from  the  c 

as  to  render  ti  ue  comn  union  mipossible  and  w  here  the  relation 

between  a  nat  onal    od  and  his  worshippers  is  not  a  mattei  of 

choice  but  of  ne  e  siti  on  both  sides 


probabh    not 

ever,  foi  den>  I       o\eiait        cept  o 

its  comprehei  I         thi^  „i      i  1  to    all  in 

question  the  ^ei  at   l   1  the    o\c 

nantideaolta       111  11       Besides 

the  emphasis  tl  tl         till        i      1      1    1 1  lei    of 

Israels  religio  i  t  tl  tr       i     t     t  ir       \\        tt     h  them 

selves  to  the  tern     \  art)    d     el  i  it     I  tl  e  i  i  i    iple  just 

stated  On  the  or  e  hai  d  the  o  ei  i  t  1  a  1  e^  i  s  to  express 
the  coiitin  iit\  of  God  a  dealn  ^swith  II  s  people  as  it  is  a  bond 
freel.\  established  so  it  is  the  fruit  of  desi(,ii  and  the  fountain  of 
further  h  stor\  it  has  a  prospectiv  e  reference  and  makes  Israel  s 
religion  a  growing  thing  in  a  word  the  LO\eiiant  idea  gathers 
around  itself  the  thoughts  we  have  in  mind  when  speaking  of 
a  history  of  redemption  and  revelation.  On  the  other  hand, 
inasmuch  as  God  is  the  originator  of  the  covenant  and  has 
solemnly  bound  Himself  not  merely  to  fulfil  His  promises  to 
Israel,  but  also  to  carry  out  His  own  purposes  contemplated  in 
the  covenant,  the  same  bond  which  originally  expresses  the 
freedom  of  the  relation  between  God  and  Israel  can  also  be- 
come the  pledge  of  the  absolute  certaint\-,  that  God  will  not 
finally  break  with  His  peojile,  Israel's  iiiHdeiity  notwithstanding. 
In  Isaiah  40-66,  and  especially  in  Jeremiah,  the  covenant  thus 
stands  to  express  the  continuity  and  sureness  of  the  accomplish- 
ment of  the  Divine  purpose  with  reference  to  Israel.  Out  of 
the  combination  of  these  two  ideas  arises  the  Messianic  or 
eschatological  significance  which  the  covenant  idea  obtains  in 
both  these  prophets.  In  Isaiah  40-66  it  is  more  than  once 
introduced  to  emphasize  the  infallible  character  of  the  Divine 
promise  given  of  old  (Is  54'-'- 10  .O-'jit  59'-i  61**).  In  two  passages 
(426  and  498)  the  serv.aiit  of  Jehovah  is  designated  as  C^  n'"!?, 
a  somewhat  obscure  phrase,  of  which  the  two  most  plausible 
terp  etat  o  s  a  e  e  ther  that  tl  e  r  a  t  w  II  I  e  the  nstr 
ent  of  eal  z  n^  th  f  ture  ovena  t  bet  een  God  and  Israel 
or    pla      t  tl  e        pi  as  s  o    D;;  tl  at  he       11  be  the  n  cans  of 


p   01 


vh  cl    Israel 


nd^on 


here  the  ot  on  of  a  ne 
the  t  ought  If  not  1 
his  t  n  the  for  of  the  i 
tract      th  Isiae       Jere 


374 


COVENANT 


COYEXAXT 


;  character  of  the  relation  between 
God  and  Israel  in  general.  To  the  prophet's  mind  religion  and 
the  covenant  have  become  so  identified  that  the  covenant  idea 
becomes  the  stable,  permanent  element  in  the  historical  de- 
velopment ;  if  in  its  old  form  the  covenant  disappears,  then  in 
a  new  form  it  must  reappear.  The  newness  will  consist  in  the 
twofold  feature,  that  the  sin  of  the  people  will  be  forgiven,  i.e. 
the  former  sin,  and  that  the  law  of  Jehovah,  instead  of  being  an 
outward,  objective  covenant  obligation,  will  become  an  inward, 
subjective  covenant  realitv,  written  on  the  heart  in  consequem-e 
of  the  universal  and  perfect  knowledge  of  Jehovah  which  will 
prevail.  This  passage  in  Jeremiah  lies  at  the  basis  of  the  NT 
use  of  the  phrase  '  the  new  covenant." 

Two  further  passages  in  the  prophets,  to  which  a  Messianic 
application  of  the  covenant  idea  could  easily  attach  itself,  are 
Zee  ft"  and  Hal  31.  In  the  fonner  passage  the  original  reads  : 
'  Because  of  the  Mood  of  thy  covenant,  /  have  sent  forth  thy 
prisonerri  out  of  the  pit  wherein  is  no  water' ;  the  LXX  has.  in 
the  second  person  of  address  to  Jehovah,  '  Because  of  the  blood 
of  thy  covenant,  thou  hast  sent  forth,'  etc.  On  tlie  foruH  i-  ren- 
dering the  covenant  is  the  fo\t-TKiiU  m  i  !■  'A'tn  I-i  .  '      i    -  : 

this  interpretation  of  the  snttix  "ttr,  '   -  1 :"  '   -     '     ' 

some,  we  may  refer  the  siittix  to  th-  .     i        .     i   i 

nant  blood,' and  understand  Ih^- pin  I-     i' 

the  sacrificial  blood  by  means  of  uhi  !i   l-r     1       •  •■■■'- 

holds  and  renews  thf 


witli 


presented  as  the  CO 


ing  of  the  LXX  the  covenant  is  reprt 
made  and  maintained  by  Jehovah.  In  the  .Malachi.pass.a:.'e  the 
coming  of  the  '  angel '  or  '  messenger  of  the  covenant'  is  pre- 
dicted. This  'angel  of  the  covenant'  is  not  identical  with  the 
Lord,  liut  as  a  distinct  person  he  accompanies  the  coming  of  the 
Lord  to  His  temple.  He  is  called  '  the  angel  of  the  covenant,' 
either  because  he  realizes  the  covenant,  or  because  his  coming 
is  in  virtue  of  the  existing  co>enant.  It  is  easy  to  see  how  on 
either  view  a  significant  connexion  could  be  established  between 
the  .Messiah  and  the  covenant. 

The  LXX  regularly  renders  b'rUh  by  0(«9<ot,  the  later  Greek 
versions  prefer  mvSy.xy,.  The  latter  term  better  expresses  the 
idea  of  a  two-sided  agreement ;  but  probably  this  was  precisely 
the  reason  why  the  LXX  translators,  desiring  to  emphasize  the 
one-sided  Divine  origin  and  character  of  the  covenant,  avoided  it. 
It  should  also  be  remembered  that  in  not  a  few  instances  b'rtth 
in  the  original  meant  not  a  covenant  but  an  authoritative  dis- 
position, which,  as  stated  above,  is  according  to  some_  scholars 
even  the  primary  meaning  of  the 


the  choice 

classical  Greek 

sition,  and  might 

:  for  b^rUh.    But 

two-sided  agree- 


,  there  were  consid^ 
of  haHxr,  in  preference  to  o-yvf 
the  former  meant  usually 
in  so  far  have  seemed  unsuitable 
occasionally  at  least  iixSr.xTj  coul 

ment  (Aris"toph.  Av.  432).  The  verb  h.!cr,U!<rHx,  was  not  bound 
to  the  notion  of '  testament,'  but  signifletl  authoritative  arrange- 
ments generally,  .^nd  above  all  things  it  should  be  noted  tliat 
the  testamentarv  hiuO^^xyj  among  the  Greeks  before  and  at  the 
time  of  the  LXX  translation  differed  in  many  respects  from  our 


brought  i 

oiaBy.xr.  was  a  solemn  and  public  transaction  of  a  religious  char- 
acter, by  which  an  irrevocable  disposition  of  rights  and  pro- 
perty was  made,  and  which  for  its  effect  was  not  dependent 
on  the  death  of  the  htxSifctvos,  but  immediately  set  in  opera- 
tion certain  of  the  duties  and  relationships  established.  Thus 
conceived,  the  iixSixr,  could  all  the  more  easily  become  the 
equivalent  of  the  hfrith  between  God  and  Israel,  because 
already  in  the  OT  the  idea  of  *  the  inheritance'  had  signifi- 
cantly'attached  itself  to  that  of  the  covenant. 

In  the  NT  the  noun  used  is  always  hutOrxy.,  but  the  cognate 
forms  of  ir^y*6y,xr  appear  in  the  verb  (Lk  22^)  and  the  adjective 
(Ro  121).  J,ij,„  occurs  in  the  NT  33  times.  The  word  retains 
the  one-sided  associations  of  the  LXX  usage,  yet  in  most 
cases  the  NT  writers  show  themselves  aware  of  the  peculiar 
covenant-meaning  descended  with  it  from  the  OT.  An  addi- 
tional possibiHty  of  interpreting  it  in  the  sense  of 
was  furnished  bv  the  fact  that  the  blessings  of  the 
era  were  derived" from  the  death  of  Christ.  Hence  in  He  916.  n 
the  new  covenant  is  represented  as  a  testament  bestowing  upon 
believers  the  eternal  inheritance,  because  the  death  of  Christ 
had  to  intervene  to  make  the  bestowal  effectual.  .\s  Itamsay  has 
pointed  out  (Ezpositor,  Nov.  189S.  pp.  321-330),  this  representa- 
tion is  based  on  Roman  law,  according  to  which  a  testament 
has  no  force  until  the  death  of  the  testator.  On  the  other 
hand,  the  Pauline  representation  nf  Gal  3'"  1**  is  b.iged  on  the 
Graico-Syrian  law  of  the  earlier  period,  under  wliicli  the  >na^<<y,xy„ 
once  made,  could  not  be  subsequently  modified,  and  took  effect 
in  certain  directions  immediatelv.  No  reflexion  is  here  made 
on  the  death  of  the  testator.  Still,  that  Si««i;«r  does  not  here 
have  the  unmodified  OT  sense  of  'covenant,'  but  means  'testa- 


' heirship'  ai 

These  two  passages  in  Hebrews  and  Galatians  are  the  only  NT 
passages  which  explicitly  refer  to  the  testamentary  character  of 
the  iittQ^xyj.  In  how  far  in  other  instances  the  associations  of 
the  testament  idea  lay  in  the  speaker's  or  writer's  mind  cannot 
be  determined  with  certaintj- (of.  Ac  3'-»  M  iv  iK^Hxv.; ;  Gal 

In  the  AV  of  the  NT  ii^Hxr  is  in  14  instances  rendered  by 
'  testament '  (Jlt  2B«  Mk  14M,  Lk  22a>,  1  Co  111''.  2  Co  36  »,  He 
72!  915  his.  16.  17.  18.  20,  Rev  1119).  As  a  marginal  alternative 
"  is  also  offered  in  Ro  94,  Gal  3i-'  424,  He  86  V»*  1320. 
II  these  cases,  except  in  He  916.  n,  the  RV  has  replaced 
anient '  by  '  covenant,'  offering,  however,  the  former  as  a 


20.    The  principle  by 
The  only  question 
I  stated  above,  they  were 


f  to  be 
i.    W'hat 


these  cises  been  dropped,  except  1 

which  the  Revisers  were  guided  is  plain. 

can  be  whether,  in  view  of  what  wi 

right  in  rendering    'covenant'    ant 

315- 17.    The  point  to  be  determined  in  each  cas 

the  associations  of  'testament'  were  present 

or  writer's  mind,  but  whether  those  of  '  covena 

onlv  where  the  latter  is   the   case    ought    '1 

abandoned,  and  Gal  315-  n  seems  to  belong  to  t 

motives  in  each  case  underlie  the  choice  of 

'  covenant '  in  AV  is  not  so  plain.    Possibly  these  motives  were 

not  always  exegetical,  but  derived  from  the  usage  of  earlier 

(English  and  other)  versions.     The  following   explanation  is 

offered  tentatively  :  wherever  the  contrast  between  the  old  and 

the  new  luxSy.xv^' is   expressed    or   implied,    'testament'  was 

chosen,  because  '  testament '  had  long  since,  on  the  basis  of 

the  Latin  Bil)le,  become  familiar  as  a  designation  of  the  two 

,.   .1  i  -,f  ■<-r.v--.r^.  :-!  *hf  forms  'the  Old  Testament,'  'the 

\,   .    T.-l  nii-il  ■     Tin.  .All!  .xplain  Mt  2628,  Mk  1424,  Lk  2220, 

'       ,      ■   li.  :   \     In  He  915-20,  of  course,  the  import 

I     :,    j. :--...      -IT  r    i  .  ;     1  'testament.'    He  86-  (' a  better 

,'  i  :    (that   til -I   -■    '.'/ia?!*')  s- ('a  new  covenant')  s- 

1"  •■>  fa  new  mnimnt  ).  'j'  ('the  first  cocenonf '),  1224  ('the 
new  cotenant '),  seem  to  run  contrarj'  to  the  explanation 
offered,  but  in  each  of  these  instances  the  context  furnished  a 
special  reason  for  favouring  'covenant':  in  He  86-13  the  dis- 
course revolves  around  the  quotation  from  Jeremiah,  which  had 
'  covenant '  ;  91  is  still  continuous  with  this  section,  and  in  12" 
the  contrast  between  the  mediatorship  of  Moses  and  that  of 
Jesus,  and  the  reference  to  the  transaction  of  Ex  24,  suggested 
'  covenant.'  In  2  Co  30  n  '  testament '  was  especially  suitable, 
because  here  the  idea  of  i,^Hx^  might  seem  to  approach  that 
of  a  body  of  writings  (v.  14  '  the  reading  of  the  Old  Testa- 
ment'). Strange  and  unexplained  is  Rev  ll'S  ('  the  ark  of  his 
".  He  94  ('  the  ark  of  the  c 


It  seems  strange  at  first  sight  that  a  conception 
so  prominent  in  the  OT  is  so  little  utilized  in  the 
NT.  Perhaps  the  main  reason  for  this  was  the 
intensity  of  the  escliatological  interest  in  that 
age,  which  made  other  terms  appear  more  suitable 
to  describe  the  neiv  order  of  things  felt  to  be 
approaching  or  to  have  already  begun.  On  the 
wliole,  the  covenant  idea  had  not  been  intimately 
associated  with  eschatology  in  the  OT.  The  con- 
sciousness that  the  work  of  Christ  had  ushered  in 
a  new  state  of  tilings  for  the  present  life  of  the 
people  of  God,  distinct  and  detached  from  the  legal 
life  of  Judaism,  for  which  latter  the  word  '  cove- 
nant '  had  ijecome  the  characteristic  expression, 
dawned  only  gradually  upon  the  early  Clmrcli. 
The  phrase  '  Kingdom  of  God,'  while  emphasizing 
the  newness  of  the  Messianic  order  01  things, 
leaves  unexpressed  the  superseding  of  the  Mosaic 
institutions  by  the  introduction  of  something  else. 

AVith  this  agrees  tlie  fact  that  the  conception  of 
Cliristi.-mity  :is  a  cuvi'iiaiit  i-s  must  familiar  to  pre- 
cisely I  111  1-1'  i"i.  NI"  vviitiM-  wlio  with  greate.st 
clc'ii'iir-s  ami  ciiiiilia-is  ilniw  tin'  contrast  between 
till-  M.wiir  tonus  ..1  liiV  .Hiiil  those  of  the  Christian 
era,  viz.  St.  Paul  and  the  author  of  Hebrews. 
Even  with  St.  Paul,  however,  the  contrast  referred 
to  finds  only  occasional  expression  in  terms  of  the 
covenant :  as  a  rule,  it  is  expressed  in  other  ways, 
such  as  the  antithesis  between  law  and  grace,  works 
and  faith.  The  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews  is  the  only 
NT  -KTiting  which  gives  to  the  covenant  idea  the 
same  central  dominating  place  as  it  has  in  the 
greater  part  of  the  OT. 

In  the  Gospels  the  word  '  covenant,'  in  a  religi- 
ous sense,  occurs  but  twice,  in  Lk  1",  and  in  the 
words  spoken  by  our  Lord  at  the  Supper.  In  the 
former  passage  the  covenant  with  Abraham  is 
referred  to,  and  the  Messianic  salvation  repre- 
sented as  a  fulfilment  of  the  promise  of  that  cove- 
nant. The  emergence  of  the  idea  here  is  in 
harmony  with  the  best  OT  traditions  :  it  expresses 
the  consciousness  of  the  sovereign  grace  and  unde- 
served faithfulness  of  God  which  pervades  the  pro- 
plietic  pieces  preserved  for  us  in  the  gospel  of  the 
incarnation  according  to  St.  Luke.  Of  course,  in 
a  broad  sense  the  idea  of  the  relation  between  God 
and  Israel  embodied  in  the  word  '  covenant'  under- 
lies and  perv.ades  all  our  Lord's  teaching.    Notwith- 


COVENANT 


COVENANT 


375 


standing  the  so  -  called  '  intensive  universalism ' 
and  the  recognition  of  religion  as  a  natural  bond 
between  God  and  man,  antedating  all  positive 
forms  of  intercourse,  our  Lord  was  a  thorough- 
going supernaturalist,  who  viewed  both  the  past 
relationship  of  God  to  Israel  and  the  future  re- 
lationship to  be  established  in  the  Kingdom  not  as 
the  outcome  of  the  natural  religion  of  man,  but  as 
the  product  of  a  special,  historic,  supernatural 
approach  of  God  to  man,  such  as  the  OT  calls 
'  covenant.'  While  probably  the  legalistic  shade 
of  meaning  whicli  the  word  liad  obtained  was  less 
congenial  to  Him,  He  must  have  been  in  full  accord 
with  the  genuine  OT  principle  expressed  in  it. 
Mk  8^  and  Mt  li'-"  speak  of  the  Jews  as  an 
'  adulterous  generation,'  and  probably  the  later 
prophetic  representation  of  the  covenant  as  a 
marriage-covenant  lies  at  the  basis  of  this  mode 
of  statement. 

The  words  spoken  at  the  Supper  were,  according 
to  St.  Matthew  {26"-»)  and  St.  Mark  (U^^),  to0t6 
icTiv  Tt>  alfia  /lov  Trjs  SiadyK-ns  (AD  in  Matthew  and 
A  in  Mark  riji  KaivTji  SiaBriKTi^)  ■  according  to  St. 
Luke  (22=")  and  St.Paul  (1  Co  Ips)  touto  t6  Tor^piov 
rj  KatVTj  dtad-rjKTj  4v  ry  aifxari  fiov  [in  1  Cor.  i/xi^  a'ifjLaTt]. 
There  is  some  doubt,  liowever,  about  the  genuine- 
ness of  the  context  in  St.  Luke  in  which  these 
words  occur.  In  D  and  some  other  MSS,  22'^''  (be- 
ginning with  tA  Owip  iiiiwv)  and  v.-"  are  lacking. 
The  textual-critical  problem  is  a  very  complicated 
one  (cf.  Westcott  and  Hort,  Notes  on  Select  Hem/- 
ings  in  the  Appendix,  pp.  G3-64  ;  Haupt,  Ucbcr 
die  ursprmigliche  Form  unci  Bedeutung  dor  Abend- 
mahlsiuorte,  pp.  6-10  ;  Johannes  Weiss,  Das  dlteste 
Evangelium,  pp.  294-299;  Johannes  Hoffmann, 
Das  Abendmahl  im  Urchristenthum,  pp.  7,  8  [all 
of  whom  adopt  the  shorter  text] ;  Schultzen,  Das 
Abendmahl  im  Neuen  Testament,  pp.  5-19  ;  R.  A. 
HofI'mann,  Die  Abendmahlsgcdanken  Jesu  Christi, 
pp.  7-21  [who  are  in  favour' of  the  TR].  It  ought 
to  be  remembered,  though  it  is  sometimes  over- 
looked, that  the  rejection  of  v  v. ''■"■•  ™  as  not  origin- 
ally belonging  to  the  Gospel  is  by  no  means 
equivalent  to  declaring  these  words  unliistorifal, 
i.e.  not  spoken  by  Jesus.  Wendt,  e.g.  {l>n-  /,.///, 
Jesu^,  p.  496),  assumestheoriginality  of  the  ^lioitii- 
text  in  St.  Luke,  and  yet  believes,  on  the  busis  nf 
the  other  records,  that  Jesus  spoke  the  words  whicli 
St.  Luke,  for  reasons  arising  out  of  his  '  combina- 
tion-method,' omitted.  (Similarly  Haupt,  p.  10). 
Still,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  with  some  writers  the 
adoption  of  the  shorter  text  is  accompanied  by  the 
belief  that  it  represents  an  older  .-iiicl  more  accurate 
tradition  of  what  actually  took  place.  On  the 
other  hand,  it  remains  possible,  even  in  retaining 
the  TR  as  originally  Lukan,  to  believe  that  St. 
Luke's  source  supplied  him  with  a  highly  peculiar 
version  of  the  occurrence  preserved  in  vv.'^'"",  and 
that  he  assimilated  this  to  the  other  more  current 
representation  by  borrowing  vv."''- ="  from  St. 
Paul.  On  the  whole,  however,  the  acceptance  of 
the  genuineness  of  the  longer  text  naturally  tends 
to  strengthen  the  presumption  that  a  statement  in 
regard  to  which  all  the  records  agree  must  be  his- 
torical. Contextual  considerations  also  seem  to 
speak  in  favour  of  the  genuineness  of  the  disputed 
words.  If  vv.'ib.  20  do  not  belong  to  the  text,  St. 
Luke  must  have  looked  upon  the  cup  of  v."  as 
the  cup  of  the  Sacrament,  for  it  would  have  been 
impossible  for  him  to  relate  an  institution  sub  una 
specie.  But  this  assumption,  viz.  that  the  cup  of 
v."  meant  for  St.  Luke  the  cup  of  the  Sacra- 
ment, is  impossible,  because  v."  comes  between 
this  cup  and  the  bread  of  v.'^.  Further,  v.'s  so 
closely  corresponds  to  v.'"  as  to  set  vv.i=->8  by 
themselves,  a  group  of  four  verses  with  a  care- 
fully constructed  parallelism  between  the  first  and 
the  thiid,  the  second  and  the  fourth  of  its  mem- 


bers respectively;  and  inasmuch  as  v."  belongs 
to  this  group,  it  cannot  very  well  have  been  con- 
nected by  the  author  with  v.''  in  such  a  close 
manner  as  the  co-ordination  of  the  cup  and  the 
bread  in  the  Sacrament  would  require.  In  general, 
the  advocates  of  the  shorter  text  do  not  succeed  in 
explaining  how  the  author  of  the  Third  Gospel, 
who  must  have  been  familiar  with  the  other 
accounts,  and  can  hardly  have  differed  from  them 
in  his  belief  that  the  Supper  was  instituted  as 
celebrated  in  the  Church  at  that  time,  could  have 
regarded  vv.'^-'""  as  an  adequate  institution  of  the 
rite  with  which  he  was  acquainted.  It  is  much 
easier  to  believe  that  a  later  copyist  found  the  cup 
of  the  Sacrament  in  v.",  and  therefore  omitted 
v.^",  than  that  a  careful  historian,  such  as  St. 
Luke  was,  should  have  deliberately  entertained 
this  view,  even  if  he  had  found  a  version  to  that 
efl'ect  in  one  of  his  sources. 

Altogether  apart  from  the  textual  problem  in  St. 
Luke,  the  historicity  of  the  words  relating  to  the 
covenant-blood  has  been  called  in  question.  Just  as 
the  saying  about  the  X&rpov  in  Mk  10"  and  Mt  20-*, 
so  this  utterance  has  been  suspected  since  the  time 
of  Baur  on  account  of  its  alleged  Paulinizing  char- 
acter. Recently  this  view  has  gained  renewed 
advocacy  by  such  writers  as  W.  Brandt,  Die  Evan- 
gelische  Gcsckichtc,  pp.  289  ft'.,  566;  Bousset,  Die 
'Kniiu/rliniritate  Justin  des  Mdrtyrers,  p.  112  ff.  ; 
A\ivil..,  /NTW,  1900,  pp.  69-74  ;  Hollmann,  Die 
i;.,/.„hnu,  des  Todes  Jesu,  p.  145ft'.  The  prin- 
cilial  iuguuients  on  which  these  writers  rest  their 
contention  are,  that  whilst  to  St.  Paul  the  idea  of 
the  new  covenant  is  familiar,  no  trace  of  it  appears 
elsewhere  in  the  teaching  of  Jesus ;  that  it  is  ex- 
pressive of  an  antithesis  to  the  OT  religion  and  its 
institutions  out  of  harraonj'  with  Jesus'  general 
attitude  towards  these;  that  in  Justin  Martyr's 
version  of  the  institution  the  disputed  words  do 
not  occur  (so  Bousset) ;  that  the  structure  of  the 
sentence  in  Matthew  and  Mark  still  betrays  the 
later  addition  of  the  genitive  rri^  SiaBriKTis  (.so 
Wrede).  The  mere  fact,  however,  that  a  certain 
conception  occurs  with  a  degree  of  doctrinal 
lioiiitiMlncss  in  Paul,  does  not  warrant  us  in  sus- 
|i.rtiii;_:  it  when  it  occurs  in  the  mouth  of  Jesus. 
With  St.  I'aul  himself  the  shade  of  meaning  of  the 
word  is  not  in  every  passage  the  same.  It  cannot 
be  provetl  that  the  Apostle  read  into  what  were  to 
him  the  words  of  the  institution  an  anti-Judaistic 
significance,  such  as  belongs  to  the  conception  in 
Gal  42-'  and  2  Co  3".  Even  the  characterization  of 
the  5i.a0T]K-q  as  Kaivi)  does  not  require  us  to  assume 
this.  Even  to  St.  Paul,  we  shall  have  to  say,  the 
phrase  Kaivi]  SiaB-fiK-q  has  in  the  present  instance  the 
more  general  soteriological  associations,  in  view  of 
which  the  antithesis  of  the  new  to  the  old  and  the 
superseding  of  the  old  by  the  new  recede  into  the 
backs-round.  The  new  io\-enant  is  the  covenant 
wliirli  fnllils  I  lie  ( »'l'  |ji..iiii^es,  rather  than  the  new 
c.n.ii^nii  ul.i.h  ■■ilirML-iir.,  the  OT  law.  With  still 
iiiiire  a.^-iii:ni(e  we  nia\-  allinii  this  of  the  words  as 
a^jcribed  tu  Jesus  in  '.Mark  and  Matthew.  Here 
(apart  from  the  hardly  original  reading  of  A  and  D 
in  Matthew  and  A  in  JIark)  the  explicit  desig- 
nation of  the  SiaejjKv  as  Kamri  is  not  found.  While 
the  thought  of  the  substitution  of  one  covenant  for 
another  is  undoubtedly  the  logical  correlate  of  the 
statement  even  in  this  form,  yet  such  an  inference, 
if  present  at  all,  can  have  lain  in  the  periphery 
only,  not  in  the  centre  of  the  consciousness  of  Him 
who  thus  spoke. 

It  ought  to  be  observed  that  the  literal  rendering 
of  the  words  is  not :  '  This  is  my  covenant-blood,' 
with  the  emphasis  on  the  pronoun,  but :  '  This 
is  my  blood,  covenant-blood.'  The  enclitic  m"" 
is  too  weak  to  bear  the  stress  the  former  ren- 
dering would  put  upon  it.     Accordingly,  fiov  be- 


376 


COVENANT 


COVENANT 


compound 
m   '  blood ' 


longs  neither  to  5.a«i^•l;  nor  to  tli 
idea  '  eovenaut-blood,'  but  to  the  i 
only,  as  is  also  required  by  this,  that  ri  al^a 
aov  should  be  the  exact  correlate  of  -ri  a^ixo. 
aov.  The  other  construction,  '  uiy  covenant,  could 
only  mean  either  'the  covena.nt  concluded  with 
me,^  as  in  the  original  of  Zee  9",  or  'the  covenant 
made  by  me  as  a  contracting  party,  as  in  the  LX.\ 
rendering  of  that  passage,  hardly  'the  co\enant 
inaugurated  by  me  between  God  and  you.  And 
vet  the  last  it  would  have  to  mean  here,  if  m"" 
went  with  SmSij^T,.  By  these  considerations  we  are 
led  to  adopt  the  rendering  '  this  is  my  blood, 
covenant-blood ' ;  and  this  rendering  makes  i 
appear  at  once,  that  our  Lord  does  not  in  the  hist 
place  contrast  His  covenant-blood  with  the  Mosaic 
covenant-blood,  but  simply  speaks  of  His  blood  as 
partaking  of  the  character  of  covenant^blood  alter 
the  analogy  of  that  used  by  Moses.  But  even  if 
the  comparison  with  the  Mosaic  covenant  bore 
more  of  an  antithetical  character  than  it  does,  it 
would  still  be  rash  to  assert  that  such  an  antithesis 
between  the  relation  to  God  inaugurated  by  Him- 
self and  that  prevailing  under  the  Mosaic  law  coii  d 
find  no  place  in  our  Lord's  consciousness,  especially 
towards  the  close  of  His  life.  His  attitude  towards 
the  Mosaic  law,  as  reftected  in  the  Gospels,  presents 
a  complicated  problem.  This  much,  however,  is 
beyond  doubt,  tliat  side  by  side  with  reverence  for 
the  Law  there  is,  both  in  His  teaching  and  eon 
duct,  a  note  of  sovereign  freedom  with  regard  to 
it.  From  the  position  expressed  in  such  sayiii 
as  Mk  2-'-  '^  7""^  to  the  conception  of  a  new  co 
"nant  superseding  the  old  there  is  but  one  step. 

We  take  for  granted  that  the  words  were  actu- 
ally spoken  by  Jesus.  In  view  of  the  fact  that  He 
uttered  them  in  Aramaic,  the  question,  w-  letlier 
the  rendering  of  Matthew  and  Mark  or  that  of 
Paul  and  Luke  more  nearly  reproduces  the  original, 
becomes  difficult  to  decide  and  also  of  minor  ini- 
portance.  Zahn  (Eoan.  d.  Matt.  p.  6S6,  note  o2) 
suggests  that  from  the  Aramaic  form  sprm  •on  both 
renderings  might,  without  material  modifica,tion  of 
the  sense,  have  been  derived.  That  the  thouglit 
is  in  both  forms  essentially  the  same  will  appear 
later,  after  we  have  inquired  into  the  content  of 
Jesus'  statement.  .  ,    .,     •     .• 

The  intricate  problems  connected  witli  the  insti- 
tution of  the  Supper  can  here  be  touched  upon  in 
so  far  only  as  they  bear  upon  the  meaning  of  tlie 
words  relating  to  the  covenant.  ^\  e  give  a  briet 
survey  of  the  various  interpretations  placed  upon 
tliose  words. 

First  we  may  mention  the  interpretation  according  to  which 
the  co%enant  spoken  of  by  Jesus  stands  m  no  real  connexion 
with  His  death.  Most  modern  writers  who  detach  the  oj-iginjil 
signiacance  of  the  act  of  Jesus  from  His  death, 


the  Supper  was  to  Him  a  feast  of  joy,  not  a  memonal  of  death.  It 
was  a  sinele  triumphant  anticipation  of  the  great  feast  of  victory, 
not  intended  to  be  repeated  as  a  rite.  The  present  description 
of  the  covenant  as  a  new  covenant  in  the  Pauline-Lukan  record 
is  according  to  Spitta,  a  later  modification  of  the  conception  m  an 
aViti-Judaistic  direction.  So  far  as  its  understanding  of  the  term 
?coveiianf  is  concerned,  this  hypothesis  has  a  certain  OT  basis 
to  rest  upon.  To  be  sure,  the  Davidio  covenant,  to  which  Spitta 
makes  Jesus  refer,  is  in  the  OT  a  past  covenant,  a  covenant 
m.ade  with  David,  the  pledge  and  basis  of  future  blessings,  not 
a  name  for  the  blessings  of  the  Messianic  age  themselves  But 
this  might  easily  become  blended  with  the  prophetic  prediction 
of  a  new  covenant  in  the  Messianic  time,  and  then  actually  the 
covenant  of  David  could  become  equivalent  to  the  Messianic 
blessedness  (cf.  Is  553  'the  sure  mercies  of  David  ).  'There  is, 
however  no  prophetic  passage  which  joins  together  tne  con- 
ceptions of  the  Messianic  covenant  and  of  a  feast,  so  that  no 
explanation  is  oflered  of  the  association  of  the  one  with  the 
other  in  the  mind  of  Jesus.  The  account  of  Ex  24  far  more 
plausibly  explains  the  combination  of  these  tw'O  ideas  «or  here 
the  covenant  and  the  feast  actually  occur  together.  And  if  this 
be  the  more  direct  source  of  our  Lord's  reference  to  the  coie- 
nant  then  it  follows  that  the  blood  and  the  covenant  stand  in  a 
nuioh  more  direct  connexion  with  e.ich  other  than  Spitta  assumes. 
According  W  Spitta,  it  is  the  blood  which  represents  the  person- 
ality of  Jesus,  who  is  the  Autlior  and  Centre  of  the  covenant. 
Acdording  to  Ex  248  it  is  the  blood  directly  inaugurating  the 
co'^nant^  Apart  from  every  reference  to  Ex  24,  when  the  b  ood 
is  brou-ht  into  connexion  with  the  covenant  C  this  is  my  blood 
of  the  "covenant '),  it  becomes  entirely  impossible  to  think  of 
anything  else  than  a  covenant  based  on  sacriflcial  blood  :  every 
other  mode  of  joining  these  two  terms  is  artificial  Spitta  a 
further  assumption,  that  the  eating  of  the  bread  and  the  drink- 
inc  of  the  wine  stand  for  a  partaking  of  the  Messiah  s  body  and 
blSod,  as  a  symbol  of  the  eating  of  the  Messiah,  altogether  apart 
from  His  death,  is  highly  improbable.  The  feast  as  »  "hole 
■rht  be  the  symbol  of  a  participation  in  the  Messiah,  though 

=     •  : '--f '-Spitta  of  this  mode  of  speaking 

■rent  usage,  if  the  sacrificial  meal 
be  left  out  of  account.    Assuming,  however,  that  the  general 
phrase  *  eating  the  Messiah 
ciples  outside  of  i  '^""' 

distributive  form  m  ,>i,i,„it  ,..,t  i,;,,.^...-.  ^.....^.._ ----  --  -  -^    «„.,ij 

of  eating  the  Messiah's  body  and  drinking  His  blood,  could 
hardly  have  possessed  such  farail^if',';;^^;  a^'^',™?^^*' 


quoted  I 

■n°mt°*  Assuming,  however,  that  the  gem 

familiar  to  Jesus  and  the  dis- 
1  with  the  sacriflcial  meal,  the 
which  the  records  present  the  thou^htj^that 
Messiah's  body  and 


;  rejecting  the  idea  of  appropri; 
n  as  appropriated  in  His  sacriflcial  capacit; 
Ve  turn  next  to  the  theories  which  recogii 
It  stands  through  the  blood  in  connexion 
lus.     When "  "    


he  Messiah,  to  think  of 


that  I 


I  death  of 


„  Jesus'  death  is  instrumental  in  intro 
ducing  the  covenant.  Justice  is  not  done  to  this  when  nierel. 
in  some  indirect  way  the  death  is  supposed  to  prepare  the  wa, 
for  the  covenant,  viz.,  in  so  far  as  it  forms  the  transilif—  •" 
higher  life  which  will  enable  Jesus 


.  bestow  upon  His  disciple 

Thus  the  direct  nexus  between  tl 

w  staled  is  th 

der  Seligkeit, 


the 


that  th 

Thus  Johannes 

'  This  is  my  body,' 

meaning,  that  tiie 

nibers  of  one  body, 

meal  of  frieiuUliip. 

eleventh  hour  did  not  expect  to  die. 

bii't  confidently  looked   forward   to   the    immediate 

appearance  of "' 


J  the  covenant  is  a  later  addi 
Hoffmann  makes  Jesus  say  no  more  thi 
•  This  is  mv  blood,'  and  interprets  this 
disciples  niiist  be  closely  knit  together  as 
Himself  forming  the  centre.  The  meal  • 
The  Sav 


!  Kingdom  of  God.    With 

'  asked  the  disciples  to  unite  themselv 

little  flock  for  which  the  Kingdoi 


thought  in  mind 
.  mbolically  into  the 

„„,^ ^ ^ __  appointed. 

this  and  similar  views,  because  they  leave  the 
uu>c..«..v  words  out  of  consideration,  we  note  that  Spitta  has 
developed  a  hypothesis  which,  while  cutting  loose  the  Supper 
from  the  death  of  Christ,  nevertheless  interprets  its  s.\-mbolism 
as  a  covenant  symbolism  (Xur  Geschichte  vnd  LUeratur  des 
VrchrisUnthums,  i.  pp.  207-337).  According  to  Spitta.  the 
covenant  is  none  other  than  the  DavidicMe««ianic  covenant 
promised  by  the  prophets,  and  inasmuch  as  tins  oovin:iiit  li.irt 
been  frequently  represented  under  the  furiM' 
our  Lord  could  bv  means  of  the  Supper  t;ii 
symbolic  anticipation  of  its  approachmg  ,v  ■   ^ 


_  enant-blessings. 

blood  and  the  covenant  U  severed.  Tl 
of  Titius  (DU  neiUestamenttiche  Lehr. 
p  1511  ff.).  According  to  this  writer,  the  Supper  is  to  -- 
explained  not  from  the  idea  of  the  forgiveness  of  sin.  but  from 
that  of  the  communication  of  lite.  Titius  does  not  identify  this 
covenant  with  the  consummate  eschatological  state  ;  it  «  some- 
thing intermediate  between  that  and  the  conimumon  with  God 
into  which  Jesus  introduced  His  disciples  before  His  death. 
The  new  covenant  is  made  possible  by  the  death  of  Jesus, 
because  through  this  death  He  will  be  raised  into  heaven, 
whence  the  powers  of  eternal  life  can  descend  upon  His  Church 
through  the  gift  of  the  Holy  Spirit.  It  may  be  justly  objected 
to  this  construction  that  in  it  the  death  of  Jesus  appears  not 
as  a  source  of  blessing  by  itself,  but  as  a  more  or  less  accidental 
entrance  into  the  life  of  glorv,  from  which  the  blessing  flows. 
As  Titius  himself  admits,  in  the  abstract  it  would  have  been 
quite  possible  to  procure  the  new  covenant  and  the  perfected 
commmion  with  bod  without  the  intervention  of  Jesus  death, 
viz..  if  it  had  pleased  God  to  exalt  the  Messiah  in  some  other 
way  Thus  it  becomes  difficult  to  understand  how  so  much 
Trnphasis  can  be  placed  by  Jesus  upon  the  app'opnat.on  o. 
His  death,  or  how  He  can  require  the  disciples  to  drink  His 
blood.  The  appropriation  symbolized  certainly  cannot  rdate 
to  the  accidental  form  in  which  the  blessing  is  prepared,  it  must 
have  reference  to  the  substance  of  the  blessing  itself.  If  the 
Seath  is  the  object  of  appropriation  then  it  must  po^ess  a 
direct  and  intrinsic  significance  for  the  covenant  in  which  tne 

"^'tI^Ts  "co'°n!zed  by  Wendt  ^Lehve  Je^,  =,  p.  502  ff .).  accorfing 
to  whom  Jesus  regirded  His  death  as  a  covenant-sacnflee. 
standing  in  the  same  relation  to  the  new  covenant  predicted  by 
?ereS  as  the  sacrifice  brought  by  Moses  sustained  t»  the 
Sinaitic  covenant.  In  his  opinion,  the  record  of  Ex  24  shows 
tha?  the  Mosaic  sacrifice  had  nothing  to  do  with  atonement, 
but  consisted  of  burnt-offerings  and  peace-offerings,  meant  as 
n  mtt  to  God  expressing  the  peoples  consent  to  His  reieaiea 
enant  relation.    The  sacnflce 


)  God  expressing 
law,  and  hence  I; 

|)ledged  both  God  and  the  peoph 
represents  His  death  t 

to  be  sure,  on  any  strictly 
hamiony  with  His  inex- 

u,i,u„^ „,,....^..„.    Wendt's  interpretation  is  wrong. 

t  so  much  in  what  it  affirms  as  in  what  it  denies.    'That  Jesus 
jarded  the  sacrifice  of  His  life  as  a  gift  to  God,  and  ascribed 


vhich  God 


legal  1 


,  gift  dedicated  1 
11  establish  the  new  covei 
e  Kingdom  of  God,  not,  to  1 
■  of  recompense,  but  i 


CO VENA  NT 


COVENANT 


to  it  saving-  significance  because  it  was  an  act  of  positive 
obedience,  may  be  safelv  atfirnied.  The  confidence,  however, 
with  which  He"  appropriates  the  effects  of  this  act  to  the  dis- 
ciples does  not  favour  Wendt's  assumption,  that  He  made  these 
effects  dependent  on  a  gracious  will  of  God,  imparting  to  the 
sacrifice  a  value  whicli  intrinsically  it  did  not  possess.  But, 
apart  from  this,  the  analogy  with  the  Mosaic  sacrifice  leads  us 
to  believe  that  Jesus  did  not  confine  Himself  to  viewing  His 
death  under  the  aspect  of  a  gift.  The  prominence  here  given 
to  the  blood  forbids  us  to  interi>ret  the  sacrifice  as  exclusively, 
or  even  primarily,  a  symbol  of  gratitude  or  consecration  to  God. 
Even  though  the  sacrifices  brought  were  not  specific  sin- 
offerings,  but  burnt -offerings  and  peace-offerings,  this  does 
not  eliminate  from  them  the  element  of  e\piation  The  Law 
itself  speaks  of  evpiation  m  connexion  with  the  burnt  offerings 
(Lv  14),  and  the  Passes  er  sacrifice  closeh  akin  to  the  peace 
offerings,  certainh  had  e\piatoi\  significance  It  ma\  e\en  be 
doubted  whether  the  idea  of  a  gift  to  (rod,  except  m  the  most 
general  sense  m  which  e\er\  s-n  rifice  is  %  gift,  was  piesent  to 
the  mind  of  the  author  of  E\  24  \^  hen  Moses  calls  the  blood 
sprinkled  on  the  people  'tht  II  d  .  f  tlif  (u\enant  which 
Jehovah  has  made  with  \ou  th  i  it  I  man 'the  blood 
by  the  dedication    of    whu  li    i      i  I        I    to  make  the 

1    '  the  blood 

Perhaps  it  mai 
iince  the  ideas  of 
he  conception  of 


ted  1 


piator>'  power  the  covenant 

by  which,  as  a  bond  of   Iitt 

the  covenant  is  establibhed  an 

express  both  of  the  thoughts  j 

expiatio  and  commnmn  were  o 

sacrifice.     Besides  tins,  the  a 

between  the  new  covenant  and    the    f 

rendered  highh   probable  b\   the  joint  f 

'   passage  where  tl 

blessing  of  the  t 
it  in  mind    and    ] 


named  as  the  gre 
Jeans  had  this  the 
of  the  sacrificial  po 
impossible  for  Hin 
conceive  of  the  blr 
ness.  It  is  b\  nn 
the  words  in  Matth 
that  these  words  ai 
shall  still  ha 


.of' 


argument  on 
IS  bupposmp 
thought,  we 


i^rii/e    iiRiii   as   an   essentiall\ 
interpretation,  which  lucitU  icboUea  the  u-ip  of  Maik  and  Luke 

A  further  argument  ma^  be  added  to  this  from  the  pai t  w hich 
the  covenant  conception  p]a\s  m  the  second  part  of  the  Book 
of  Isaiah  in  connexion  w  ith  the  figure  of  the  Sei  \  ant  of  Jeho\  ah, 
who  is  called,  as  wc  ha\  e  seen,  the  ny  n  "i^  In  our  opinion, 
although  this  has  been  denied  b\  Rif^chl  and  otheis,  there  can 
he  no  doubt  that  the  Sei\ant  of  Jeho\ah  prophet  \,  and  paiti 
cularlv  Is  53,   was  an  influential    fattm    in  determining  the 


Stnaiit 

in 

m   e\pil 

(,„ 

Moirious 

sense,  is  so  distincth  delin 

atL.l   t 

Himself  in 

the  cliapter,  Jesus  could  n 

\H 

r  nt 

principle  than  is  here  set 
Chnsl,  pp.  13-56) 

torth 

(f 

Denne\ , 

Th 

Death   i,f 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  trend  of  lecent  in\esti 
gation  of  the  problem  of  the  Supi"  i  i--  U>\\  inK  tlic 
acknowledgment,  that  the  woids  is  l!ll^  s(  uid 
not  merely  m  Luke  .uid  P.uil  ik.i  hkk  I\  m 
Matthew,  but  e\ en  in  Mai k,  (leu h  (\|.iiss  ind 
were  intended  by  the  writers  of  the  (.ospeis  to 
express,  the  expiatory  interpretation  of  the  death 
of  Jesus.  So  far  as  the  purely  exegetical  deter- 
mination of  the  sense  of  the  words  ex  ammo 
auctorum  (in  distimtiori  from  the  estimate  put 
upon  their  historir  infliliilii  \ )  is  concerned,  the 
traditional  Churih-d.n  tiinc  i~  licing  more  and  more 
decisively  vindicated.  Ti  iic,  many  modern  writers, 
while  granting  this,  emphatically  deny  that  our 
Lord  spoke,  or  could  have  spoken,  the  words  which 
St.  Paul  and  the  Synoptists  attribute  to  Him,  or 
that  what  He  spoke  can  liavp  liad  the  meaning 
which  the  words  in  their  pics. ■lit  s,.t(i,|o  and  form 
convey.  The  two  main  rci.-Mii.  i,,i  iln,  denial  are, 
that,  on  the  one  hand,  the  i,  iirlnn-  .ii  .lusus  about 
the  sinner's  relation  to  God  i.s  .-ucli  as  to  leave  no 
room  for  sacrificial  expiation  as  a  prerequisite  of 
the  sinner's  acceptance,  forgiveness  flowing  from 
God's  free  grace  ;  and  tliat,  on  the  other  hand,  in 
the  early  Apostolic  Church  the  expiatory  inter- 
pretation of  the  death  of  Jesus  is  not  present  from 
the  beginning,  as  it  would  have  been  if  Jesus  had 
taught  it,  but  marks  a  .subsequent  doctrinal  de- 
velopment. Neitlier  of  these  contentions  has 
sufficient  force  to  discredit  the  unanimous  witness 
of  St.  Paul  and  the  Synoptists.  In  point  of  fact, 
Jesus  nowhere  represents  the  forgiveness  of  sins  as 


absolutely  unconditioned.  It  is  one  of  the  gifts 
connected  with  the  state  of  .sonship  in  the  Kingdom. 
Consequently,  it  is  bound  to  His  own  person  in  the 
same  sense  and  to  the  same  degree  as  the  general 
inheritance  of  the  Kingdom  is.  Unless  one  is 
ready  to  assert  with  Harnack,  that  in  the  gospel, 
as  preached  by  Jesus  Himself,  there  is  no  place 
for  His  person,  it  wiU  be  necessary  to  believe  that 
our  Lord  considered  His  own  Messianic  character 
and  work  of  supreme  importance,  not  merely  for 
the  preaching,  but  also  for  the  actual  establish- 
ment of  the  Kingdom  of  God.  This  being  so,  it 
became  necessary  for  Him  to  combine  with  the 
specific  form  He  gave  to  His  Messiahship  a  specific 
conception  of  the  manner  in  which  the  blessings  of 


the  Kingdom  are  obtained  by  the  disciples.  His 
views  about  the  forgiveness  of  sins  would  be  less 
apt  to  be  determined  by  any  abstract  doctrine  as 
to  the  nature  of  God,  than  by  the  concrete  mode 
in  w  hich  the  developments  of  His  life  led  Him,  in 
dependence  upon  Scripture,  to  conceive  of  the  char- 
acter of  His  Messiahshi])  and  its  relation  to  the 
coming  of  the  Kingdom.  If  He  anticipated  death, 
as  there  is  abundant  evidence  to  show  He  did, 
fiom  a  comparatively  early  point  in  His  ministry, 
then  He  could  not  fail  to  ascribe  to  this  death  a 
Messianic  meaning ;  and  this  Alessianic  meaning, 
if  there  was  to  belong  to  it  any  definiteness  at  all, 
could  hardly  be  other  than  that  portrayed  by  the 
piophet  I.saiah  in  the  sufiering  Servant  of  Jehovah. 
It  is  quite  true  that  the  silence  observed  by  our 
Loid  in  regard  to  this  important  matter  till  very 
neai  the  close  of  His  ministry  is  calculated  to 
awaken  surprise.  But  this  silence  He  likewise 
pieserved  till  the  same  point  with  regard  to  His 
Messianic  calling  in  general ;  the  problem  is  not 
greater  in  the  former  respect  than  in  the  latter ; 
the  reasons  which  will  explain  the  one  will  also 
explain  the  other.  Nor  should  it  be  forgotten 
that,  side  by  side  with  His  liigh  conception  of  the 
love  of  God,  .Icsiis  iLsi'iilii'd  supreme  imi)ortanee 
to  the  Divine  jiisl  icr.  11,.  ruefully  preserved  the 
\ aluable  truth  ( cmlaiiu-il  in  the  exaggerated  Jewish 
ideas  about  the  furensiu  relation  between  God  and 
man  (cf.  Keim,  v.  331,  'A  continual  oscillation 
between  the  standpoint  of  grace  and  that  of  Jewisli 
satisfaction  can  lie  established  ').  Recognizing  this 
(Itinentin  His  teaeliing  as  something  He  did  not 
liol.l  lucfiiiK-torily,  but  witli  great  earnestness  of 
I  on\  ictiuii,  we  have  nn  ri,L:ljt  to  assert  that  every 
idei  of  expiation  and  satisfaction  must  have  beeii 
on  principle  repudiated  by  Jesus  as  inconsistent 
with  tlie  love  of  God.  Nor  is  there  much  force 
in  the  second  contention,  namely,  that  the  absence 
of  the  expiatory  interpretation  of  the  death  of 
Jesus  from  the  early  Apostolic  preaching  proves 
the  impossibility  of  deriving  this  doctrine  from 
Jesus.  The  doctrine  is  certainly  older  than  St. 
Paul,  who  declares  that  he  '  received '  ii'  irpuiTois, 
as  one  of  the  fundamental  tenets  of  the  Apostolic 
faith,  that  Christ  died  for  our  sins  according  to  the 
Scriptures  (1  Co  15^).  This  '  receiving'  on  the  part 
of  St.  Paul  is  separated  by  no  more  than  seven 
years  from  the  death  of  Jesus  ;  according  to  recent 
schemes  of  chronology,  by  an  even  shorter  interval. 
When  in  the  discourses  of  the  earlier  chapters  of 
Acts  the  emphasis  is  placed  on  the  resurrection 
rather  than  on  the  death  of  Jesus,  this  must  be  ex- 
plained from  the  apologetic  purpose  of  these  dis- 
courses. They  were  intended  to  prove  that, 
notwithstanding  His  death,  Jesus  could  still  be 
the  Messiah.  Probably  even  upon  the  discifiles 
themselves,  at  that  early  date,  the  full  meaning 
of  the  teaching  of  Jesus  concerning  His  death  had 
not  dawned  ;  but  if  it  had,  to  make  this  the  burden 
of  their  preaching  to  the  Jews  would  have  been  an 
ill-advised  method.  AVe  know  from  these  same 
discourses  in  Acts  that  the  disciples  looked  upon 


378 


COYEXANT 


COYEN-AXT 


the  death  of  Jesus  as  foreordained.  It  is  not 
likely  that,  holding  this,  they  can  have  rested 
in  it  as  sufficient  for  tlieir  faith,  and  entirely 
refrained  from  seeking  the  reasons  for  the  Divine 
foreordination,  which  in  this,  as  well  as  all  other 
cases,  must  have  appeared  to  them  teleological. 
In  the  light  of  this,  the  references  to  Jesus  as  the 
Servant  of  God,  which  occur  in  these  early  dis- 
courses, sometimes  in  connexion  with  His  suffer- 
ing, become  highly  significant,  partly  because  they 
sound  like  reminiscences  of  Jesus'  own  teaching, 
partly  because  they  render  it  probable  that  our 
Lord's  death  was  interpreted  in  dependence  on 
Is  53.  Finally,  attention  should  be  called  to  the 
central  place  which  the  forgiveness  of  sins  occupies 
in  tlie  early  Apostolic  preaching.  The  prominence 
of  this  theme  requires  for  its  background  a  certain 
definite  connexion  between  the  Messiahship  of 
Jesus  and  the  forgiveness  of  sins,  and  this  is 
precisely  what  is  afforded  by  the  expiatory  inter- 
pretation of  the  Saviour's  death  (cf.  Denney,  The 
Death  of  Christ,  pp.  65-85,  where  the  preceding 
points  are  luminously  discussed). 

On  the  grounds  stated  we  conclude  that  there 
is  neither  exegetical  nor  historical  necessity  for 
departing  from  the  old  view,  that  Jesus  repre- 
sented His  death  as  the  sacrificial,  expiatory  basis 
of  a  covenant  with  God.  The  next  question  arising 
is.  Who  are  meant  as  the  beneficiaries  of  this  expia- 
tion on  which  the  covenant  is  founded  ?  At  first 
.sight  it  would  seem  as  if  only  one  answer  were 
possible,  viz.  those  to  whom  lie  gives  the  cup  in 
which  the  wine,  the  symbol  of  the  expiating  blood, 
is  contained.  Nevertheless,  the  correctness  of  this 
view  has  been  of  late  strenuously  disputed.  This 
has  been  done  inaiTily  "ii  the  ground  before  stated, 
that  for  the  di-.  iiil,  -  tl,,^  wh.ile  tenor  of  our  Lord's 
teaching  reprr~fut<  ili>-  iMii^iveness  of  sins  as  im- 
conditioned,  a-sund  l.y  the  gracious  love  of  God 
as  such.  Hence  it  is  assumed  that  Jesus  intended 
the  covenant-sacrifice  not  for  His  disciples,  but  for 
the  unbelieving  mass  of  the  people,  who  were  so 
hardened  in  their  unbelief  as  to  render  an  atoning 
sacrifice  necessary  in  order  to  their  reacceptance 
into  the  favour  of  God  (thus  Johannes  Weiss, 
Predigt  Jem  vom  Eckhe  Gottes,  p.  28  ft'. ;  and  R.  A. 
Hoft'mann,  Die  Abcndnuihlsr/eclanken  Jesu  Christi, 
pp.  60-88).  Weiss,  while  believing  that  the  cove- 
nant-blood is  primarily  shed  for  the  nation,  would 
not  exclude  the  disciples  from  its  eft'ects.  Hoft'- 
mann, on  the  other  hand,  distinguishes  sharply 
between  those  who  are  concerned  in  the  covenant- 
sacrifice  as  its  direct  beneficiaries,  i.e.  the  enemies 
of  Jesus,  and  those  whom  He  desires  to  appropriate 
the  spirit  of  His  self-sacrifice  for  others,  and 
therefore  invites  to  eat  His  body  and  drink  His 
blood.  The  words  spoken  with  the  cup  express 
on  this  view  two  distinct  thouglits :  (1)  the  blood 
is  covenant  -  blood  for  the  unbelieving  Jews;  (i) 
the  blood  as  the  exponent  of  the  spirit  of  self- 
sacrifice  of  Jesus  must  pass  over  into  the  disciples, 
so  that  they  too  shall  give  their  life  for  others.  In 
other  words,  the  disciples  do  not  drink  the  blood 
in  tlie  sense  in  which  it  is  defined  by  the  plirase 
T^s  oioft^M)!,  but  in  the  sense  in  which  it  symbolizes 
the  subjective  spirit  on  Jesus'  ])art  which  led  Him 
to  offer  His  life  for  others.  It  will  he  readily  per- 
ceived that  this  introduces  an  intolerable  dualism 
into  the  significance  of  the  blood  :  it  must  mean  at 
the  same  time  objectively  the  life  poured  forth  in 
death  as  the  principle  of  atonement,  and  subjec- 
tively the  life  pouring  itself  forth  in  death  as  the 
principle  of  self-sacrifice.  There  is  no  hint  in  the 
words  themselves  at  any  such  double  meanini;. 
From  tlie  simple  statement  no  one  would  guess 
that  the  blood  is  drunk  by  the  disciples  in  .my 
other  capacity  than  that  in  which  the  Lord  de- 
scribes it,  as  'blood  of  the  covenant.'     St.   Paul 


and  St.  Luke  have  not  understood  Jesus  in  the 
manner  proposed ;  for,  according  to  their  version, 
the  cup,  that  which  the  disciples  drink,  is  the  new 
covenant  itself  in  the  blood,  not  merely  the  blood 
which  for  others  is  tlie  covenant-blood.  Hoffmann 
lias  to  assume  that  St.  Paul  and  St.  Luke  mis- 
interpreted the  intent  of  Jesus,  and  regards  Mark 
and  Matthew  as  giving  the  correct  version.  But 
even  into  the  words  of  St.  Mark  and  St.  Matthew 
liis  view  will  not  fit  readily.  If  our  Lord  invited 
the  disciples  to  drink  His  blood,  in  the  sense  of 
receiving  into  themselves  the  spirit  of  His  self- 
surrender  to  death,  the  description  of  this  blood 
as  covenant-blood  becomes  irrelevant  to  the  ex- 
pression of  this  thought.  Whether  the  blood  is 
covenant-blood  or  serves  any  other  beneficent  pur- 
pose, is  of  no  direct  consequence  whatever  for  the 
main  idea,  viz.,  that  it  is  the  exponent  of  a  spirit 
which  the  disciples  must  imitate,  nay,  the  intro- 
duction of  the  former  thought  only  tends  to  ob- 
scure the  latter.  Our  Lord  certainly  did  not 
expect  the  disciples  to  make  the  sacrifice  of  their 
own  life  a  covenant-sacrifice  in  the  sense  His  was 
for  tlie  nation.  The  virep  xoWCiv  in  Mark  and  the 
Trepi  rroWuiv  in  Matthew,  to  which  Hoffmann  appeals, 
cannot  prove  the  exclusion  of  the  disciples  from 
the  covenantal  ett'ect  of  the  blood.  The  plirase  is 
derived  from  Is  53"- '-',  wliere  it  serves  to  attirm 
the  fruitfulness.  the  efficacy  of  the  self-sacrifice 
of  the  Servant  of  Jehovah.  This  simple  thought 
suttices  here  as  well  as  in  Mk  10*^  to  explain  Jesus' 
statement  that  many  will  be  benefited  by  His 
death.  Who  the  many  are,  disciples  or  non- 
disciples,  the  virip  ToWQi/  alone  does  not  enable  us 
to  determine. 

The  one  question  that  still  remains  to  be  answered 
is,  whether  the  covenant-blood  a\  ■pears  in  the  words 
of  Jesus, 'This  is  my  blood  of  tile  covenant,' primarily 
as  the  blood  which  through  exjiiatioii  inaugurates 
the  covenant,  or  primarily  as  the  blood  which  by 
being  sacramentally  received  will  make  those  who 
receive  it  partakers  of  the  covenant.  Both  mean- 
ings are  equally  well  suited  to  the  words  them- 
selves. In  order  to  choose  definitely  between  them, 
we  should  have  to  enter  upon  the  extremely  com- 
plicated discussion  that  has  of  recent  years  been 
carried  on,  and  is  still  being  carried  on,  concerning 
the  origin  of  the  Lord's  Supper  and  the  significance 
of  the  act  performed  and  the  words  spoken  by  our 
Lord  on  the  last  evening  of  His  earthly  life.  A 
few  remarks  must  suffice  to  indicate  the  bearings 
of  this  problem  on  the  question  before  us.  The 
two  views  above  distinguished  coincide  with  the 
so-called  parabolic  or  purely  symbolic  and  the  so- 
called  institutional  or  sacramental  interpretation 
of  tlie  transaction.  According  to  the  former,  Jesus 
did  not  mean  to  institute  a  rite,  did  not  intend  the 
act  to  be  repeated,  Init  simply  enacted  before  the 
eyes  of  His  disciples,  in  a  visible  parable,  the  drama 
of  His  death,  indicating  by  the  parabolic  form  He 
gave  it  that  His  death  would  be  for  their  good 
through  the  inauguration  of  a  covenant.  Accord- 
ing to  the  latter,  Jesus  instituted,  and  for  the  first 
time  caused  His  disciples  to  celebrate,  a  rite  in 
which  He  made  the  partaking  of  bread  and  wine, 
as  sacramental  symbols  of  His  body  and  blood, 
to  stand  for  the  ajipropriation  of  flis  expiatory 
sacrifice  and  of  the  covenant  founded  on  it. 

It  ought  to  be  observed  that  these  views  are  not 
in  themselves  mutually  exclusive  Tlie  parabolic 
significance  of  the  body  ami  11. i.,,!.  a-  symboliz- 
ing death,  must  on  the  .■-eruihl  \  i,  w  lie  assumed 
to  form  the  background,  exiie-^ed  ui  presupposed, 
of  the  sacramental  tran.saction— expressed,  if  the 
breaking  of  the  bread  and  the  pouring  of  the  wine 
be  made  significant ;  presupposed,  if  the  broken 
bread  and  the  poured  wine  be  made  the  starting- 
point  of  the  observance.     That  the  so-called  para- 


COVENANT 


COVENANT 


379 


that  of  the  dissol 
propriation  for  nourishi 
"-     1  of  the  meal, 


bolic  view  is  frequently  advocated  in  a  form  which 
excludes  tlie  sacramental  complexion  of  the  act,  is 
due  not  so  muili  to  the  view  itself,  Vjut  largely  to 
a  general  tlieory  on  the  nature  of  the  parables  of 
Jesus. 

Julioher,  the  foremost  representative  of  the  parabolic  interpre- 
tation of  the  Supper  (cf.  Theologieche  Abhandlwiigen  C.  v.  Weiz- 
siicher  gewidmet,  p.  207  ff.),  is  also  the  strenuous  advocate  of 
the  theory  that  in  every  genuine  parable  of  Jesus  there  can  be 
but  one  point  of  comparison.  Consequently  it  is  insisted  upon 
that,  if  the  broken  bread  and  the  wiue  stand  as  figures  for  the 
death  of  Jesus,  figures  which  involve  the  destruction  of  these 
elements,  they  cannot  at  the  same  time  stand  as  figures  for  tlie 
appropriation  of  the  benefits  of  His  death,  because  this  would 
involve  the  usefulness  of  the  elements,  the  very  opposite  of 
tlieir  destruction.  Julicher  was  not  at  first  disposed  to  carry 
this  to  an  extreme,  but  admitted  that  as  a  secondary  point  of 
comparison  the  usefulness  of  the  bread  and  wine  as  food  and 
drink  might  have  stood  before  tlie  mind  of  Jesus.  Others,  how- 
ever, demand  that  on  the  parabolic  view  every  figurative  sig- 
nificance of  the  eating  and  drinking  must  be  rigorously  e.\cluded, 
and  make  this  a  ground  of  criticism  of  said  view,  because  in  the 
records  the  eatingand  drinking  are  undoubtedly  n.ade  prominent 
(cf.  Johannes  Hoffmann,  Das  Abendmahl  !m  Urchristentlmm, 
pp.  61-65,  and  Jiilicher's  review  of  Hoffmann's  book  in  Theol. 
JAteratuneitung,  1904,  col.  282  fl.). 

Julicher's  canon  of  interpretation,  while  on  the  whole  repre- 
senting a  sound  principle  of  exegesis,  leads  in  single  instances 
to  the  rejection  of  undoubtedly  genuine  material.  It  makes 
Jesus  construct  His  parables  with  conscious  regard  to  the  unity 
and  purity  of  their  form,  rather  than  with  the  practical  end  of 
their  efficacy  in  view  (cf.  Bugge,  Die.  Hanpt-Pambelii  Jem). 
Where,  as  in  the  present  case,  the  two  points  of  comparison, 
ution  of  the  elements  and  that  of  their  ap- 
re  so  naturally  combined  into 
foolish  to  require  the  exclusion 
of  either  on  the  ground  of  a  puristic  insistence  on  the  rules  of 
formal  rhetoric. 

In  all  probability  the  combination  of  these  two 
aspects  of  the  symbolism  was  not  first  made  by  our 
Lord,  but  was  antecedently  given  in  the  union  of 
the  OT  sacrifice  and  the  sacrificial  meal.  Schultzen 
[Das  Abendmahl  im  Neuen  Ti-f:iamcnt,  p.  53  ft".)  has 
shown,  to  our  mind  convincingly,  that  the  eating 
of  tlie  bread  and  the  drinking  of  the  cuii  are  placed 
by  our  Lord  under  the  aspect  of  a  sacrificial  meal, 
for  which  His  own  deatli  furnishes  the  sacrifice. 
As  in  the  sacrificial  meal  the  ott'erer  appropriates 
the  benefits  of  the  expiation  and  the  resulting 
benefits  of  covenant  -  fellowship  with  God  (Ex 
24"-",  Ps  50^),  so  the  disciples  are  invited  to 
appropriate  by  eating  and  drinking  all  the  benefits 
of  expiation  and  covenant  -  fellowsliip  that  are 
secured  by  the  sacrifice  of  the  Saviour's  death. 

We  may  assume,  therefore,  that  botli  the  sym- 
bolism of  sacrifice  and  the  symbolism  of  the  sacri- 
ficial meal  are  present  in  the  transaction  performed 
by  Jesus.  But  the  question  still  reinains  un- 
answered, whether  the  former  is  present  in  explicit 
form  or  merely  as  the  unexpressed  background  of 
the  latter.  Those  who  empliasize  the  symbolical 
significance  of  the  breaking  of  the  bread,  a  feature 
named  in  all  the  records,  hold  that  the  death  is  not 
merely  presupposed  but  formally  enacted.  On  the 
whole,  however,  the  trend  of  the  discussion  has  of 
late  been  in  the  direction  of  the  other  \iew,  which 
attributes  no  special  significance  to  the  breaking 
of  the  bread  or  the  pouring  fortli  of  the  wine,  but 
makes  the  broken  bread  and  the  wine,  as  symbols 
of  the  death  as  an  accomplished  fact,  tlie  starting- 
point  for  the  enacted  symbolism  of  the  sacrificial 
meal.  It  has  been  pointed  out  with  a  degree  of 
force  that  the  formula,  '  This  is  my  body,'  '  This  is 
my  blood,'  in  the  sense  of  'This  symbolizes  what 
will  happen  to  My  body  and  to  My  blood,'  is  out 
of  all  analogy  witli  Jesus'  usual  iiavaliolic  mode  of 
statement,  because  elsewhere  not  tin'  symlpol,  but 
the  thing  symbolized,  always  f(.inis  llic  siilpjcet 
of  the  sentence  (so  Zahn, '/>"s'  l-'.r.niqrlnnii  den 
Mattfuius,  p.  687,  note  .53).  It  iii.'vy  .'iNo  I"'  urged 
that  till-  ii:iluiul  si-(|uence,  in  case  a  parabolic 
enactmrnl    of   iIh-  ili>nth  of  Jesus  were   intended, 

would  b;ui'  1 11  as  follows  :  'He  brake  the  bread 

and  saiil  :  Tliis  is  my  body;  and  he  gave  it  to 
them  and  said,  Take,"'  and  similarly  with  the  cup. 


As  the  record  stands,  the  pouring  out  of  the  wine 
is  not  iiiciitioncil  at  all.  It  seems  that  Jesus  took 
a  cup  which  bad  already  been  filled.  If  He  had 
iuteiuk'd  to  give  a  parabolic  representation  of  the 
event  of  His  death,  He  would  liave  taken  pains  to 
fill  one  before  their  eyes.  The  fact  that  with  both 
elements  the  giving  to  eat  and  to  drink  precedes 
the  declaration  of  what  the  bread  and  the  wine  stand 
for,  favours  the  view  that  this  declaration  deals 
primarily  with  the  symbolism  of  the  .sacrificial 
meal.  The  words,  'This  is  my  body,'  then  obtain 
the  meaning :  To  partake  of  this  "bread  signifies 
the  partaking  of  My  sacrificed  body  in  a  sacrificial 
meal ;  the  words,  '  This  is  my  blood,'  the  meaning : 
To  partake  of  this  wine  signifies  tlie  partaking  of 
My  sacrificial  blood  in  a  sacrificial  meal.  Thus  we 
^^•ould  reach  the  conclusion  that  the  phrase  '  blood 
of  the  covenant '  has  for  its  primary  import :  blood 
through  the  partaking  of  which  participation  in 
the  covenant  is  assured.  The  Pauline- Lukan  ver- 
sion, 'This  cup  is  the  new  covenant  in  my  blood,' 
cannot  be  quoted  with  conclusiveness  in  favour  of 
either  view.  This  version  may  either  mean  :  tliis 
cup  is  by  the  blood  it  contains  the  new  covenant, 
or  :  this  cup  is  the  new  covenant,  which  new  cove- 
nant consists  in  My  blood.  Each  of  these  two 
renderings  leaves  open  the  two  possibilities,  that 
the  shedding  of  the  blood  is  represented  as  the 
source  of  the  new  covenant,  or  that  the  drinking 
of  the  blood  is  represented  as  the  participation  in 
the  new  covenant.  To  prevent  misunderstanding, 
however,  it  should  be  stated  once  more,  that  the 
sacramental  interpretation  of  the  words  has  for  its 
background  the  symbolic  significance  of  bread  and 
wine  as  exponents  of  the  expiatory  death  of  Jesus 
itself. 

In  conclusion,  we  must  endeavour  to  define  the 
place  of  the  covenant  conception  thus  interpreted 
within  the  teaching  of  Jesus  as  a  whole,  and  its 
correlation  with  other  important  conceptions. 
Like  the  Kingdom  of  God,  the  Messiahship,  and 
the  Church,  the  Covenant  idea  is  one  of  the  great 
generalizing  ideas  of  the  OT,  the  use  of  wliich 
enables  Jesus  to  gather  up  in  Himself  the  main 
lines  of  the  historic  movement  of  OT  redemption 
and  revelation.  From  the  Kingdom  the  Covenant 
is  distinguished  in  several  respects.  The  Kingdom 
conception  is  more  comprehensive,  since  it  em- 
braces tlie  eschatological  realization  of  the  OT 
promises  as  well  as  their  provisional  fulfilment  in 
the  present  life,  being  on  the  whole,  however, 
eschatologically  conceived,  the  present  Kingdom- 
powers  and  blessings  appearing  as  so  many  antici- 
pations of  the  final  Kingdom.  The  Kingdom  is 
also  comprehensive  in  this  other  respect,  that  it 
covers  indiscriminately  the  entire  content  of  the 
consummate  state,  the  external  as  well  as  the 
internal,  the  judgment-  as  well  as  the  salvation- 
aspect.  Over  against  this  the  Covenant  idea, 
while  by  no  means  pointedly  excluding  the  es- 
chatological state  (in  Hebrews  the  idea  is  used 
eschatologically,  the  new  covenant  coinciding  with 
the  aiuiv  (nAXwi/),  yet  is  more  characteristic  as  a 
designation  of  the  blessings  of  believers  in  the 
present  intermediate  period.  And  among  the 
manifold  contents  of  salvation  it  pre-eminently 
designates  the  internal  ones  of  forgiveness  of  sin 
and  fellowship  with  God,  as  is  already  the  ease 
in  the  passage  of  Jeremiah. 

If  the  word  rendered  by  dtaS-fiKv  had  in  our  Lord  s 
mind  the  associations  of  the  word  'testament, 
and  if  the  statement  found  in  the  context  of 
Luke  (22"'- ^o),  '  I  appoint  nnto  you  (5iori9€M<"  I'/u"), 
even  as  my  Father  appointed  nnto  me  a  kingdom, 
that  ye  liiay  eat  and  drink  at  my  table  in  my 
kingdom,'  liiay  be  understood  as  liavmg  been 
suggested  to  Him  by  this  testamental  sense  of 
'  Siath'p.T,.  tlien  this  would  bring  the  Covenant  idea 


COVENANT 


COVETOTJSNESS 


luucli  nearer  to  the  Kingdom  idea,  inasmuch  as  in 
the  latter  saying  the  full  content  of  the  blessed- 
ness of  the  final  state  is  the  object  of  the  SiaTWcaBat 
It  is  not  certain,  however,  that  the  sequence  of 
the  narrative  here  in  Luke  is  chronological,  and 
that,  therefore,  these  words  were  uttered  im 
mediately  after  the  reference  to  the  covenant  blood 
in  the  Supper.  In  Mt  19-"--'  words  in  part  identical 
occur  in  a  dirterent  connexion.  In  the  Supper  Uod 
is  the  SiadifjKvos,  whereas  here  it  would  be  Jesus 
It  is  better,  therefore,  not  to  introduce  the  testi 
nientary  idea  into  the  words  of  the  Supper  and  to 
adhere  to  tlie  distinction  between  the  Kingdom  and 
the-Covenant  from  the  point  of  view  alieady  indi 
eated.  According  to  the  Pauline  interpretation 
the  Supper,  and  with  it  the  Covenant  belon^  to 
the  pre-eschatologioal  state,  in  which  belie\eis  aie 
during  the  present  life,  for  the  Supper  is  a  pio 
elamatiou  of  the  death  of  Jesus  '  until  he  come 
(1  Co  lI-«).  The  sayings  in  Mk  14=°  Mt  26  "  Lk 
2.711!.  18  ^\^Q  mark  the  Supper  and  the  participation 
in  the  Covenant  as  belonging  to  a  state  distinct 
from  the  final  Kingdom  of  God.  Oui  Loid  ho« 
ever,  does  not  place  this  second  stage  of  the 
covenant-life  of  the  people  of  God  in  contrast  with 
tlie  former  stage  from  the  point  of  view  that  it 
involves  the  abrogation  of  the  OT  legal  forms  of 
life,  as  St.  Paul  does  in  2  Co  3  and  Gal  3.  If  it  is 
a  new  covenant,  it  is  new  simply  for  the  positive 
reason  that  it  brings  greater  assurance  of  the 
forgiveness  of  sin  and  closer  fellowship  with  God. 
From  the  idea  of  the  Kingdom  that  of  the 
Covenant  is  still  further  distinguished,  in  that  it 
appears  in  much  closer  dependence  than  the 
former  on  the  Messianic  person  and  work  of  Jesus. 
In  our  Lord's  preaching  of  the  Kingdom,  His 
Messianic  person  and  work  remain  almost  entirely 
in  the  background,  at  least  so  far  as  the  verbal 
disclosure^  on  tliis  subject  are  concerned,  wliile 
tlie  niattn!-  conn";  to  stand  somewhat  differently 
if  the  -■li.r,.\rl;itii)n  contained  in  Jesus'  Messianic 
acts  lie  c'.iii^idercd.  The  Covenant  is  explicitly 
declared  to  be  founded  on  His  expiatory  death, 
and  to  be  received  by  the  partaking  of  His  body 
and  blood.  This  importance  of  the  person  and 
work  of  Jesus,  both  for  tlie  inauguration  and  the 
reception  of  the  Covenant,  agrees  with  the  view 
that  the  Covenant  designates  the  present,  pro- 
visional blessedness  of  believers,  for  this  stage  is 
specifically  controlled  and  determined  by  the 
activity  of  Christ,  so  that  St.  Paul  calls  it  the 
Kingdom  of  Christ  in  distinction  from  the  King- 
dom of  God,  which  is  the  final  state.  The  Cove- 
nant idea  shares  with  the  idea  of  the  Church  this 
reference  to  the  present  earthly  form  of  possession 
of  the  Messianic  blessings,  and  this  dependence  on 
the  person  and  work  of  the  Messiah  (cf.  Mt  16'* 
18'").  The  ditl'erence  is  that  in  the  conception  of 
the  Church,  the  organization  of  believers  into  one 
body  outwardly,  as  well  as  tlieir  spiritual  union 
inwardly,  and  the  communication  of  a  higher  life 
through  the  Spirit,  stand  in  the  foreground,  neither 
of  which  is  refiected  upon  in  the  idea  of  the  Cove- 
nant. The  Covenant  stands  for  tliat  central,  God- 
ward  aspect  of  the  state  of  salvation,  in  which  it 
means  the  atonement  of  sin  and  the  full  enjoyment 
of  fellowship  with  God  through  the  appropriation 
of  this  atonement  in  Christ. 

LiTPP^Ti-ov  _!;„„t..rf     ri...-    i;.o.,,;,„^;,;    1?56;  Baur,  Vorle- 
s.,„.,...    .  ,-.  ;    11.    102-105;  Volkmar, 


-,  .i;.,,  ,.,.  p.  i.z;  A.  Brandt,  Zeit- 
i--~,  ]).  Buff.  ;  W.  R.  Smith,  RS\  1894  ; 
de  la  Sainte  Cine,  1889,  pp.  62,  258 ; 
juv'tate  Jxistins  de,i  Mdrtifrcre,  1890,  p. 

Christliche  Abendmahl  im  Lichte  dfr 
I.  p.  6ff.  ;  JiUicher  in  Throl.  Abhand- 
■ker  ffewidmel,  1892,  p.  217  ft.  ;    Joh. 


*5chaefei  Da 
f  I  t-o\  lb9s 
\T  ls%  Smend 
(  1    tire  ht     D 


re  «'  10  1 

red     Je 

pp  4b  60     1        1 

1303     Tht  lit  r  t  11 

but  onh  111  so  lir  a 

Co\  enant  idea     See  further  ; 

GEEKH\EDI;S  Vos 
COYETOUSNESS.-This  word  (Gi  xX^ovt^la.)  ha.s 
the  root-idea  of  greed,  shown  in  a  strong  desire  to 
acquire,  even  more  than  in  a  keen  wish  to  keep. 
In  the  Gospels,  as  elsewhere  in  Scripture  [see,  how- 
ever, Eph  4"],  the  term  is  confined  to  a  reference 
to  property  ;  the  verb  (wXeoveKT^a)  is  wider  in  sense. 
As  the  complexity  of  social  life  increases,  so  may 
the  shapes  the  evil  can  as.sume.  To  ordinary 
avarice  have  to  be  added  subtle  temptations  in  the 
realm  of  rank  and  fashion,  conventional  ambition, 
cultured  ease,  or  delight  in  successful  activity 
unsubordinated  to  ethical  aims.  The  tinge  of 
covetousness  comes  in  wherever  men  so  absorb 
their  life  in  the  temporal  that  they  impair  its 
high  instincts  for  the  spiritual.  '  Wliat  is  a  man 
profited,  if  he  sliall  gain  the  wliole  world  and  lose 
his  own  soul  ? '  (Mt  16=«). 

To  the  mind  of  Jesus  wliat  stands  condemned 
is,  characteristically,  the  possession  of  a  certain 
spirit— the  spirit  of  grasping  selfishness.  The 
forms  assumed,  the  methods  employed,  are  not 
minutely  dealt  with,  and  not  matters  for  specific 
cure.  Rather  the  one  tap-root  is  to  be  cut,  or  a 
general  atmosphere  created  in  which  the  noxious 
weed  must  perish.  And  the  almighty  power  to 
this  end  is  the  holy  spirit  of  the  gospel,  which  on 
the  one  hand  is  a  spirit  of  loving  trust  towards 
God  the  Father  in  providence,  and  on  the  other 
a  tender  feeling  towards  fellow-mortals  which 
prompts  to  ready  sacrifice  of  all  things  to  their 
good.  The  iiiaii  with  the  great  possessions  (Mk 
10"),  who  ;ittr;utt'il  .losus,  had  yet  one  luxury  to 
discover-  thai  ..t  dnjuu  ^ood,  giving  to  the  poor, 
and  so  cuvrtin-  wralili  uf  the  riglit  kind.  Not 
the  coming  tu  uur  iiaiuls  of  earthly  good  is  con- 
demned, but  the  absence  of  the  one  spirit  which 
shall  inform  and  vitalize  its  use.  The  triumph  of 
religion  is  to  turn  it  into  '  treasure  in  heaven '  (v.^'). 
A  classical  passage  is  Mt  6'"",  with  which  com- 
pare Lk  12---*'  and  I6'''\  Tlie  higher  life  being 
concerned  with  faitli  and  i:iin,liiess  and  the  things 
of  the  spirit— the  realm  i.  vealed  in  the  Beatitudes, 
it  is  clear  inversion  to  be  al)^urbed  for  their  own 
sake  in  the  things  of  time  and  sense.  '  Moth  and 
rust '  are  the  emblems  of  their  corruptibility  ;  and 
theyare  unstable,  like  property  exposed  to  '  thieves.' 
It  is  the  mark  of  a  pagan  mind  to  be  full  of  anxious 
and  self-centred  concern  for  meat  and  drink  and 
raiment  (v.^=).  Such  persons  reverse  unconsciously 
Christ's  principle  that  '  the  life  is  more  than  meat ' 
(Mt6");  and  the  Pharisees,  'who  were  covetous' 
(Lk  16'''),  by  their  blindness  to  the  true  order  of 
importance  called  forth  essentially  the  same  re- 
I  buke,  '  that  which  is  highly  esteemed  amongst  men, 
'  is  abomination  in  the  sight  of  God '  (v.").    Though 


COWARDICE 


CREATION 


381 


they  had  one  eye  for  religion,  tliey  kept  the  otlier 
for  the  worUl,  hence  inevitably  their  truly  distorted 
views.  In  the  last  resort  of  psychological  analysis 
'  no  man  can  serve  two  masters '  (Mt  6^),  and  the 
Pliarisees  are  pilloried  for  evermore  as  the  awful 
example  of  hypocrisy  in  this  respect.  With  Jesus, 
in  these  passages,  the  first  postulate  of  religious 
worth  is,  that  people  must  be  single-minded  and 
whole-hearted  in  service — '  Whero  yoiir  treasure  is, 
there  will  your  heart  lie  al-n"  (Mt  ('>'-').     And  to 

only  one  quarter  can  thi-  rnliulitr 1  In-art  turn— 

'  the  kingdom  of  God  and  his  lit^hti'dusness'  (v.^-''). 
Coincident  with  that,  as  lumible  faith  feels,  all 
needed  things  shall  be  added  unto  us.  With 
exquisite  insight  Jesus  points  to  the  fowls  of  the 
air  and  the  lilies  of  the  field  as  eloquent  at  once 
of  the  minuteness  of  Divine  Providence,  and  the 
trust  we  may  place  in  a  Heavenly  Father's  care. 
'Are  not  ye,'  He  asks,  'much  better  than  they?' 
( V.'*).  (Cf.  as  an  enforcement  of  the  lesson,  Christ's 
own  unworldliness  of  character,  and  trustfulness 
in  earthly  matters.  And  as  a  counter-illustration 
to  the  Pharisees,  cf.  the  convert  from  their  straitest 
sect,  St.  Paul,  who  having  food  and  raiment  learned 
therewith  to  be  content,  1  Ti  6«,  cf.  Ph  4"). 

On  a  question  arising  of  family  inheritance 
(Lk  12'''''^),  Jesus  warns  against  covetousness,  and 
for  impressive  depth  nothing  excels  the  summary 
there — '  A  man's  life  consisteth  not  in  the  abun- 
dance of  the  things  which  he  possesseth  '  (v.'^).  As 
one  concerned  with  the  spiritual  domain,  Jesus 
refuses  to  touch  the  civil  matter  of  property. 
Wisdom  lay  in  leaving  questions  of  the  law  to 
lawyers,  although  the  consideration  is  doubtless 
implied  that  even  then  there  should  be  found  a 
permeation  of  the  Christian  spiiit.  The  point 
which  Jesus  presses  is  fhi-  falsity  of  the  vulgar 
notion  that  it  is  'possessions'  whicli  make  life 
worth  living.  Devotion  to  tlie  outward  is,  in  His 
gospel,  vanity  ;  tlie  loving  and  discerning  soul  has 
God  for  its  possession,  and  from  sheer  sympathy  of 
heart  joys  in  His  work  amongst  men. 

A  parable  follows  (Lk  lli"^--i),  not  necessarily 
associated  originally  with  the  foregoing  incident, 
although  in  full  affinity  of  theme.  The  Rich  Fool 
is  the  personification  of  the  successfully  covetous 
man,  and  yet  a  revelation  in  almost  the  same 
breath  of  how  little  such  success  amounts  to  from 
the  standpoint  of  eternity.  He  sowed  only  to  the 
world  ;  therefore  he  reaped  inwardly  no  riches  of 
the  spirit.  '  So  is  he,'  saith  Jesus,  '  that  layeth  n|i 
treasure  for  himself,  and  is  not  rich  towards  God  ' 
(v.=').  There  is  affinity  of  teaching  in  the  parable 
of  Dives  and  Lazariis  (which  see). 

LlTBRATlTRl.— The  Standard  works  on  the  Seinioii  on  the 
Mount  and  on  the  Parables.  Among  special  discourses  ;  F. 
W.  Robertson,  Scnnons,  2nd  series,  Serm.  I.  (with  which  com- 
pare XVII.  of  1st  series);  .J.  Service  on  'Profit  cind  Loss'  in 
Salmtion  n,;r,i,Hl  II.,.,nl.r  .  J  '  i^  .  ,1.1  PI,.  ,7'/,,  T.  .■-,/,■„„» 
of  the    Kin,„l„n,    '..   "       11^      "     ■,.  '      ^'       ■ I      r^.'r-s 

Ministni,  Isi,  «..n..-  .       1      I    ...     1,   //  .    /  '    ...//.f 

ii.  and  iii  ,  lin.lr.,,      ...  .       .  ,  :      ...  sr, ; 

Mozley,  Uiiir.-rxii,/  s.  ,„;..,:. ,  I.].  ■::..   ■ ' 

(JEORfiF.  MUKRAY. 

COWARDICE. — Cowardice  must  be  distinguished 
from  a  natural  timidity  in  circumstances  of  danger, 
from  the  awe  which,  in  the  presence  of  the  mirac- 
ulous or  the  extraordinary,  may  so  possess  the 
mind  as  for  the  moment  to  paralyze  its  activities, 
and  above  all  from  the  fear  of  (iod,  His  jiaternal 
love,  power,  and  holy  judgment,  which  may  be 
the  strongest  antidote  to  all  base  and  servile  fear, 
and  the  source  of  the  highest  courage.  The  dis- 
tinction  is  partly  preserved  in  the  words  ^o^os  and 
SeiXia.  The  latter  word  is  'always  used  in  a  bad 
sense'  (Trench,  Synonyms  of  the  NT,  p.  34).  It 
expresses  '  not  the  natural  emotion  of  fear,  but  the 
cowardly  yielding  to  it.  It  is  the  craven  spirit 
which  shrmks  from   duty,   loses  hope,  abandons 


what  it  should  hold  fast,  surrenders  to  the  enemy, 
or  deserts  to  his  side'  (Bernard,  Coiliril  Teaching 
of  Jesus  Christ,  pp.  188,  189).  oeiXia  occurs  only  in 
2  Ti  1',  but  Su\mu  Jn  U^^,  and  oaX6s  (EV  '  fearful ') 
Mt  8*,  cf .  Mk  4*  and  Kev  218.  gut  the  line  of  dis- 
tinction cannot  be  drawn  hard  and  fast  by  the  use 
of  these  words.  In  Mt  8="  (cf.  Mk  4«)  the  question 
TL  SfiXoi  f'cTTc,  oXiybTnaToi. :  is  not  so  much  a  serious 
imputation  of  craven  fear,  as  the  expression  of  'per- 
sonal fearlessness,  to  gain  ascendency  over  panic- 
stricken  spirits'  (Bruce,  Expos.  Gi:  Test.,  iiiloc.). 
On  the  other  hand,  an  ignoble  fear  in  face  of  danj^er 
or  ditticulty,  or  the  disapprobation  and  hostile 
.sentiments  of  others,  is  sometimes  in  view  -when 
06/3os,  <po^(iijeai  are  used  (Mt  10=8,  ^f.  Lk  l-2\  Mt 
25••'^  Jn  7"  19'*8  20").  When  fear  of  physical  con- 
sequences impairs  fidelity  to  Christ,  causing  men  to 
be  ashamed  of  Him  (Mk  8**,  Lk  'J="),  or  even  to  "o 
the  length  of  denying  Him  (Mt  10'"),  it  incurs  His 
severest  disapprobation  (Mt  10^",  cf.  Rev  21*).  It 
is  not  cowardice  to  fly  from  the  rage  of  the  perse- 
cutor. Jesus  not  only  counselled  flight  in  circum- 
stances of  peril  (Mk  13",  Lk  21='),  but  Himself 
evaded  the  malice  which  would  have  brought  His 
life  to  an  end  before  His  hour  was  come,  and  His 
mis.sion  completed  (Lk  4»,  Jn  8™  10"").  It  is  only 
when  the  fear  of  man  tempts  to  the  compromise 
of  truth,  and  the  disowning  of  allegiance  to  Christ, 
that  it  becomes  a  snare  and  a  sin.  Cowardice  is 
not  ultimately  evinced  in  feeling',  but  in  action. 
It  is  cowardice  when  a  man  declines  the  task  he 
was  meant  to  render  :  '  I  was  afraid,  and  went  and 
hid  thy  talent  in  the  eartli'  iMl  '_'."■- i :  m  hen  he 
turnsaway,  however  sorrowfully,  i\i<u\  iIh-  path  of 
.self-sacrihce  which  the  call  ol  <  Imsi  points  out  to 
him  (Mt  19"=).  (See  Paget,  ^tatU^.s  i„  the  Christian 
Character,  p.  104). 

The  antidote  to  cowardice  lies  in  the  fear  of  God, 
in  His  power  over  tlie  soul  as  well  as  the  body  (Mt 
10="),  the  ni.T  riN-):  which  drives  out  all  baser  fear ; 
in  the  spirit  of  watchfulness  and  prayer  that,  in 
circumstances  of  trial,  ^^■e  do  not  fall  into  the 
temptation  to  forsake  Christ  or  deny  Him  (Mt 
26''M;  but  most  of  all  in  I'aitli  (Mt  8™,  Jn  14'--''). 
Faith  in  the  FatherhoiMl  oi  ( .oil  i  li.'it  the  manifest 
duty,  however  difticull  nu.l  il.ni.jnous,  is  His  will ; 
that  from  Him  life  has  its  .'ijipointcil  twelve  hours, 
and  in  the  path  of  obedience  to  Him  there  is  no 
possible  foreshortening  of  them  (Jn  11*") :  that 
over  all  is  His  unsleeping  and  loving  care — will  save 
the  soul  from  all  base  betrayals  of  itself  and  its 
Divine  trust  through  fear.  To  this  end  was  the 
Comforter  promised  and  bestowed,  that,  co-operat- 
ing with  the  spirit  of  men,  He  might  brace  them 
to  consistent  courage  in  action  and  endurance. 
And  the  eftect  of  His  presence  and  power  is  seen 
in  the  contrast  between  those  who  'all  forsook 
him  and  fled'  (Mk  14™),  denied  Him  (Mt  26«»-"), 
'gathered  in  an  upper  room  for  fear  of  the  Jews' 
(.In  '2n'9),  and  the  same  men,  not  many  months 
later,  im)>ri'ssiui;  the  autlioritics  l)y  their  boldness 
(Ac  4"),  and  displaying,  in  circumstances  of  severest 
trial,  minds  delivered  from  all  craven  fear,  and  in- 
spired with  the  high  and  solemn  courage  of  faith. 
See  art.  FEAR. 

Literature.— Aristotle,  Elh.  iii.  7;  Strong,  Chr.  Ethics; 
Paget,  Sttidies  in  the  Christian  Character,  100  ff.;  Denney, 
Gospel  Questions  and  Answers,  sas.  JOSEPH  MUIE. 

CREATION.— The  beginning  of  the  world,  as  the 
earliest  starting-point  of  time,  is  mentioned  in 
iMt  24=1,  Ml;  i3i!i  The  other  Gospel  references  to 
this  subject  include  one  by  an  Evangelist  and  two 
by  our  'Lord  Himself,  the  first  (Jn  P)  teaches 
that  the  Divine  Word,  who  afterwards  became 
incarnate  in  Jesus  (v."),  was  the  direct  Agent  in 
Creation  (of.  Col  l'^  He  1=  ;  and  see  following  art.). 
The  second  (Jn  5")  occurs  in  a  discussion  on   the 


382 


CREATOR  (CHRIST  AS) 


CREATOR  (CHRIST  AS) 


Sabbath.  In  the  words  'my  Fatlier  worketh 
liitherto,'  Jesus  shows  that  the  Divine  rest  follow- 
ing the  work  of  creation  lias  been  a  period  of  con- 
tinued Divine  activity.  His  primary  object  is  to 
justify  His  own  works  of  healing  on  the  Sabbath 
day,  but  He  shows  incidentally  that  the  seventh 
'  day,'  and  therefore  also  the  other  '  daj-s,'  of  On  1 
nee^  not  be  understood  in  a  literal  sense.  In  the 
third  allusion  (Mt  19"-,  Mk  lO^^-)  the  words  of 
Gn  1"  2-'',  describing  the  original  creation  of  man 
and  woman,  are  quoted  in  support  of  Clirist's  ideal 
of  marriage  (cf.  Eph  5^').  James  Patrick. 

CREATOR  (CHRIST  AS).— Tlie  Synoptic  Gospels 
do  not  bring  forward  any  specific  teaching  of  Christ 
as  Creator.  Whate\er  Jesus  may  have  taught  on 
this  subject,  the  controlling  purpose  of  the  writers 
of  these  Gospels  did  not  require  the  inclusion  of  it. 
Hence  it  is  that  only  by  implication  is  any  doctrine 
of  Christ's  creatorship  introduced  into  the  Synojitic 
Gospels.  The  implication,  however,  is  striking  and 
worthy  of  notice. 

1.  TIic  assertion  of  original  power,  c.q.  the 
healing  of  the  leper  "(Mk  1*',  Mt  8^  Lk  5'=)  :  the 
lordship  of  the  Sabbath  (Mk  2=»,  Lk  6',  Mt  12»). 
The  Sabbath  is  a  Divine  institution,  and  only  the 
establisher  of  it  could  have  power  over  it.  The 
forgiveness  of  sins  (Mk  2=,  Mt9^)  is  a  prerogative  of 
Godhead. 

2.  The  note  of  authority.— The  people  felt  this 
in  Jesus'  teaching  (Mk  1-,  Lk  4**).  He  claims 
authority  for  Himself  (.Mk  2",  Mt  9«,  Lk  5-*).  He 
gives  authority  to  His  disciples  (Mt  10'),  and  the 
unstated  assumption  is  that  it  is  by  an  original 
right  inherent  in  Himself. 

3.  Miracles. — Jesus  quiets  the  sea  as  one  who 
has  original  power  over  it  (Mk  43",  Lk  8-*).  This 
is  the  right  of  the  Creator  of  it.  He  restores  life 
to  the  dead  (Mk  5«,  Lk  8"  7").  To  give  life  is  the 
prerogative  of  Creatorship.  It  is  :ui  original  right 
of  the  Creator.  Jesus  txi-iciM'^  this  right  in  His 
owa  name.  He  creates  ilin-ctlv  in  tlie  miracle  of 
the  loaves  and  fishes  {Mk  li^'  ".  Mt  14'''  15^). 

4.  Ownership.— Jesus  calls  the  angels  His  own 
(Mt  24").  His  lordship  of  the  Sabbath  implies 
ownership  (Mk  2^). 

All  these  are  clear,  and  the  more  significant 
because  undesigned,  naiTations  which  imply  the 
Creatorship  of  Jesus.  If  St.  Paul  held  a  supervisory 
relation  to  the  Gospel  of  Luke,  and  St.  Peter  to 
the  Gospel  of  Mark,  as  many  of  the  best  modern 
scholars  believe,  then  we  shall  feel  the  coiTobo- 
rative  evidence  which  is  so  outstanding  in  their 
Epistles  for  the  Creatorship  of  Jesus. 

This  evidence  in  the  Pauline  E/jistles  lies  in 
{a)  the  pre-existence  of  Christ  (Ro  S^,  1  Co  10', 
2  Co  8',  Gal  4^  Eph  V,  Ph  2«,  Col  1",  -J  Ti  P). 
The  self-imiioverishment  (Xthw/s-)  implies  previous 

D-  •      '  ■  "    

(5, 


lir 


ere  (■r(':it<'il 

througl 

niliif  Chn 

t  o'f  ufe 

Epistl.-s  , 
especially 
and  in  m 
l'«).      He 


l.i-t' 


:  Crealive  I'miciple  both  in  the  world 
(6)  Creation  is  through  Christ  (Col 
the  causal  agent,  according  to  the 
eternal  purpose,  (c)  Creation  is  in  Him,  i.e.  in 
the  sphere  of  Christ,  'the  creative  centre  of  all 
things,  the  causal  element  of  their  existence' 
(Ellicott).  Hence  all  things  are  to  be  gathered 
up  in  Him  (Eph  l'»).  (rf|  Creation  is  for  Him. 
He  is  the  goal  as  well  as  the  r\|.laii.itiMii  ,,t  .ill 
creation.  1  Co  8''  expands  this  i.lr.i,  an.i  m.ik.'- 
Him  both  the  .source  and  the  ;;":il  ni  ill  ri.  i,,! 
things,  (e)  He  is  the  bond  wliirh  hoUl-  tin'  \\  li..|,- 
fabric  of  men  and  things  together.  This  is  the 
doctrine  of  the  Divine  immanence  (Col  1"),  and  sets 
forth  Christ  as  the  eternally  existent  Creative 
Principle  in   all   things.     All  this  teaching  is  an 


amplification  of  the  teaching  of  the  Synoptics,  and 
sets  forth  the  cosmic  relations  of  Christ  in  Creation 
in  order  to  show  more  clearly  His  cosmic  relation 
in  Atonement  and  Salvation. 

There  are  two  passages  in  the  Petrine  Epistles 
which  teach  the  pre-existence  of  Christ  (the  Spirit 
of  Christ  in  the  prophets,  1  P  1"  ;  and  Christ  before 
the  foundation  of  the  world,  v.'-"),  but  there  is  no 
direct  teaching  of  Creatorship. 

The  Gospel  of  John  opens  at  once  into  a  circle  of 
new  and  profounder  conceptions  of  Jesus.  He  is 
the  Eternal  Logos  who  was  in  the  beginning  (1'). 
He  is  the  eternal  and  immanent  Reason  manifest- 
ing creative  activities.  He  mediates  the  creation 
of  the  universe  (v.^).  The  Prologue  sets  forth 
Jesus  Christ  in  His  fourfold  mediation,  (a)  As 
the  Eternal  Logos,  who  wa.s  'in  the  beginning 
with  God,  and  was  God'  (1'),  He  mediates  the 
creation  of  all  things  (v.^).  The  whole  process  and 
product  of  creation  lie  inwrapped  in  the  Logo.s. 
Neither  angels  nor  other  beings  assisted.  'And 
without  him  was  not  anything  made  that  hath 
been  made '  (v.=,  cf.  1  Co  8«).  (b)  As  the  Creative 
Logos,  He  mediates  life  for  men.  He  is  immanent 
in  the  Creation.  'In  him  was  life'  (v.''),  and  '  He 
was  in  the  world,  and  the  world  was  made  by  him, 
and  the  world  knew  him  not'  (v.").  He  was  the 
ground  and  source  of  life.  St.  Paul's  saying, 
'The  world  through  its  wisdom  knew  not  God' 
(1  Co  1-'),  shows  the  amazing  inability  of  the  world 
to  recognize  its  Creator  who  was  the  ground  of  its 
own  life.  Sin  hatl  indeed  become  darkness  which 
was  incapable  of  apprehending  the  light  (Jn  P). 
((•)  As  the  Logos  matte  flesh  or  incarnate,  He  medi- 
ates a  revelation  of  God  to  man  (vv. ""'*).  The 
wliole  measure  of  revelation  lies  in  the  incarnate 
Logos.  '  God  manifested '  to  men  was  manifested 
wholly  in  Jesus  Clirist.  [d)  As  '  the  only-begotten 
from  the  Father'  (v.").  He  mediates  an  atonement 
or  reconciliation,  through  His  death,  between  a 
holy  God  and  alicnutiil  sinners.  This  is  the  climax 
of  His  wondnuis  iiicdiatdiship,  and  makes  Him  the 
perfected  Mediator.  The  historic  Christ  is  brought 
forward  in  this  Gospel  only  enough  to  explicate  or 
illustrate  the  eternal  Christ,  but  it  was  in  the 
historic  Christ  that  the  eternal  and  cosmic  Christ 
was  first  recognized.  The  transactional  phases  of 
the  historic  incarnation  lead,  in  St.  John's  view, 
straight  to  the  eternal  Logos  who  mediated  the 
whole  creation.  Christ,  as  Creator,  is  so  wrought 
into  the  Cosmos  which  He  made  and  sustains,  that 
upon  the  entrance  of  sin  into  the  world  He  be- 
comes of  necessity  the  mediator  of  new  relations 
between  the  sinner  and  God.  His  mediatorship  of 
redemjjtion  rests  on  the  fact  that  He  was  '  in  the 
beginning '  the  Logos  who  mediated  the  creation  of 
all  things.  Christ,  as  Creator,  is  tlie  fundamental 
idea  of  this  Gospel.  It  is  the  starting-point  of  the 
whole  history  of  the  earth  and  the  heavens,  of  man, 
his  fall  and  his  doom,  of  the  redemption  and  the 
final  glory.  It  is  the  interpretive  key  to  the  whole 
framework  of  the  Fourth  Gospel,  whose  author  sees 
the  designed  correspondence  between  the  Creator 
and  the  created,  and  that  creation  was  primarily 
intended  to  be  responsive  to  Him.  '  He  came  unto 
his  own,  and  they  .  .  .  received  him  not'  (1"), 
expresses  the  failure  of  creation  to  fulfil  the  Divine 
purpose.  St.  John  gathers  up  all  that  the  Synop- 
tists  have  taught,  but  adds  new  conceptions  of 
.lesus  in  a  profounder  interpretation  of  Him.  He 
ti.M  Ills  (ci)  the  pre-existence  of  Christ  (P"  3"-  "  6"= 
s  '  '  14"  17°)  more  plainly  and  fully  than  the 
Svii..i,ti>is;  (6)  His  authority  (17=) :  (<)  His  in- 
h.iiiit  power  to  work  miracles  (2*  6"  11") ;  (rf)  His 
ownership  of  all  tilings  (V^).  But  new  conceptions 
are  added,  (a)  He  is  the  source  of  an  abiding  or 
eternal  life.  He  has  power  to  give  this  life  to 
whom  He  will  (336  410.  u  521-24. 40  e^J.  m  10=8  nss  u" 


CEITICISM 


CRITICISM 


17-).  (/3)  His  life  is  the  light  of  men.  But  the 
fact  that  as  Creator  He  is  tlie  source  of  both  life 
and  light  to  men  does  not  prevent  their  rejectit)n 
of  Him  (l-"  8'=  9^^  1235. 36. 46)  (^j  He  shows  His 
identity  with  the  Father :  '  I  and  tlie  Fatlier  are 
one'  (10™) ;  '  He  that  hath  seen  me  hath  seen  the 
Father'  (14'  12«).  (5)  He  shows  familiarity  -with 
the  life  and  conditions  of  Heaven  (14-  17-''). 

But  these  conceptions  of  Christ,  as  well  as  those 
which  St.  John  and  the  Synoptists  have  in  common, 
rest  on  the  fact  of  His  having  mediated  the  creation 
of  all  things.  His  rights  in  the  whole  creation,  as 
well  as  the  obligations  which  He  has  toward  it, 
grow  out  of  the  fact  of  His  Creatorship.  Tlie 
eternal  and  universal  characteristics  of  botli  in- 
carnation and  reconciliation  are  grounded  in  the 
creational  character  of  Jesus  Christ. 

LiTERATCRE.— B.  Weiss,  ReUqiou  0/  the  NT,  190-191,  and 
Bibl.  Theol.  of  NT,  ii.  on  ;  G.  B.  .Stevens,  The  Chriatian  Doctriiui 
0/  Salmtion,  438  ;  fi.  A.  (iorrlon.  riu-  Chrht  of  To-Dai/.  sl-;i:i ; 
A.  M.  Fairbairn,  3'/i.' /'''r^'  .-/'/:.-  •  '..  !/-/■  , .;  /';,'./■/./.  :;4I  ; 
D.  F.  Estes,  Oi((«H.'  ■■/    \         /       ■         ■    /■■         ■        \    1:    i-.i-ir, 

St.  PatU's  Concept:  I HI'  ■'''-. 

'SLSohn' {Pulpit  V:„i ;„,„„-;.;     '■     'i-   hi  >  ;..i  .i- .", 

the  subject  is  very  scant) .  M  A 1 11  A.N   L.  \\  uuD. 

CRITICISM.  —  1.  A  little  more  than  seventy 
years  ago  (1835-1905),  a  turning-point  was  reached 
in  NT  criticism,  the  importance  of  which  is  gener- 
ally admitted.*  In  tlie  year  1835  David  Strauss 
published  his  Lchen  Jesii  (to  be  followed  exactly 
ten  years  later  by  F.  C.  Baur's  Paulus)._  The 
mythical  theory  was  remorselessly  applied  by 
Strauss  to  the  whole  of  the  Gospel  history. 

It  must  not  be  forgotten  that  from  the  middle  of  the  pre- 
ceding century  Semler  had  applied  the  word '  myths '  to  some  of 
the  OT  narratives,  as,  e.g.,  to  the  exploits  of  Samson  ;  and  later 
on  at  the  beginning  of  the  19th  cent,  de  Wette  had  not  hesi. 
tated  to  point  out  the  important  part  which,  in  his  judgment, 
was  played  both  by  myth  and  by  legend  in  the  writings  of  the 
OT.t  At  the  same  time  he  had  not  hesitated  to  accentuate, 
in  language  very  similar  to  some  of  the  utterances  familiar  to 
us  to-day,  the  difference  which  lay  between  the  application  of 
the  mythical  and  of  the  legendary  theory  to  the  OT  and  to  the 
NT.t  There  were,  indeed,  two  parts  of  our  Lord's  life,  the  be- 
ginning and  the  end,  which  this  earlier  criticism  did  not  scruple 
to  regard  as  shrouded  in  darltness,  and  to  relegate  to  the 
same  domain  of  myth  or  legend.  The  supporters  of  this  kind 
of  criticism  were  content,  as  Strauss  himself  expressed  it,  to 
enter  the  Evangelical  history  by  the  splendid  portal  of  myth  and 
to  leave  it  by  the  weary  paths  of  a  natural  explanation.  Tins 
method  of  so-called  natural  explanation,  which  in  its  most  crude 
form  was  characteristic  of  Paulus  and  the  school  which  bore 
the  name  of  Ration,alists,  a  method  which  .Strauss  remorselessly 
attacked,  became  discredited  and  gave  place  to  the  mythical 
theory,  which  at  least  laid  claim  to  thoroughness.  But  it  is  not 
too  much  to  say  that  an  explanation  of  the  miraculous  which  is 
often  akin  to  the  crude  exegesis  of  Paulus,  meets  us  not  infre- 
quently in  Strauss  himself  and  in  much  more  recent  attempts 
to  prove  that  miracles  did  not  happen.? 

But  by  another  path  of  inquiry  the  way  was  being  prepared 
for  Strauss.  In  1750,  J.  D.  Michaelis  published  his  Introduction 
to  the  NT,  and  in  the  fourth  edition  of  that  work  he  examined 
with  caution  and  candour  the  origin  of  all  the  NT  books. 
Michaelis  was  followed  by  Semler  in  his  Treatise  on  the  Free 
Investifiation  of  the  Camn,  the  very  title  of  which  seemed  to 
mark  the  new  principle  of  inquiry  which  was  abroad.  Semler 
has  been  recently  called  '  the  father  of  criticism ' ;  and  if  that 
title  is  not  always  appropriate  to  him,  we  may,  at  all  events, 
speak  of  his  epoch-making  influence,  and  of  the  break  which  he 
caused  between  the  traditional  views  of  inspiration  and  the  free 
examination  of  the  authority  and  origin  of  each  sacred  book.  11 
The  new  century  was  marked  by  Eichhorn's  Introduction.  This 
writer  applied  systematically  the  principle  laid  down  by  his 
forerunners,  like  Semler  and  Herder,  and  continued  the  attempt 
'  to  read  and  examine  the   writings  of  the  NT  from  a  human 


•  See,  e.g.,  Schwarz,  Zur  Gesch.  ricr  mutest.  Theol;  Pfleiderer, 
Devetoptnent  of  Theohgi/,  p.  133 ;  Nash,  Historii  of  the  Higher 
Criticism,  p.  123 :  '  Altogether  1835  is  something  more  than  a 
date  in  the  history  of  literature.  It  stands  for  a  new  turn  and 
direction  in  the  Higher  Criticism.* 

t  For  a  discussion  of  the  differences  between  myth  and  legend, 
reference  may  be  made  to  Knowling,  Witness  of  the  Epistles, 


.  16ff. 
X  See,  e.g.,  Dr.  Driver's  remarks,  LOT  1 


I  Cf.  B.  Weiss,  Einleitung  in  das  NT',  p.  5ff. 


and  further 


NTi 


attempt. 


to  the  \ar\ing  pliM        1     i  ni.rs  of  early  Church  history 

and  life.  'Even  <ic  \\  ■  ' :  ■  ,  'Hh  mi  lii-'  I 'est  representative  men  of 
the  period,  who  conitjined  so  remarkably  deep  evangelical  piety 
with  freedom  from  prejudice  and  with  thoroughness  of  learning, 
was  often  undecided  in  his  judgment,  and  his  conclusions  were 
vague  and  uncert.\in.  The  criticism  characteristic  of  the  time 
was  carried  on,  as  it  were,  piecemeal :  one  book  was  defended  or 


There  were  henceforth  two  great  critical  iiioye- 
ments  jiroceeding  side  by  side — the  eflbrt  to  in- 
terpret tlie  Gospel  narratives,  and  tlie  eflbrt  to 
investigate  tlie  origin  of  the  NT  books. 

To  the  former  of  these  eflbrts  Strauss  stood  in 
the  closest  relation,  and  he  claimed  to  introduce  a 
theory  of  interpretation  which  should  be  complete 
and  final. t  To  the  latter  Baur  stood  in  tlie  closest 
relation,  and  he  claimed  to  make  good  a  theory 
which  treated  the  books  of  the  NT  from  the  point 
of  view  not  only  of  tlieir  origin,  but  of  their  pur- 
pose. Baur's  book  on  the  Pastoral  Epistles,  pub- 
lished in  the  same  year  as  Strauss'  Life  of  Jcsut: 
(1835),  showed  that  his  intention  was  to  treat  the 
NT  books  in  connexion  with  their  historical  set- 
ting. 

Some  of  the  most  successful  attacks  upon  the 
first  edition  of  Strauss'  book  -were  based  upon  the 


lie  pai( 
A  few 


sources.  A  tew  pages  are  all  tliat  he  devotes  to 
the  authorship  of  tlie  Gospels,  and  it  is  no  wonder 
that  men  like  Tholuck  rightly  fastened  on  this 
weakness  in  their  opponent's  position,  and  that 
much  of  Strauss'  own  subsequent  vacillation  was 
due  to  the  same  cause.J 

But  in  1864,  apparently  stirred  by  the  reception 
given  to  Kenan's  Vie  dc  Jesus,  Strauss  publislied 
his  popular  edition  for  the  German  people.  And 
here  he  showed  how  thoroughly  lie  was  prepared 
to  endorse  Baur's  view  of  the  late  dates  of  the 
Gospels,  and  to  assimilate  the  methods  and  con- 
clusions of  the  Tubingen  school. §  But,  as  Dr. 
Matheson  and  other  writers  have  so  forcibly 
pointed  out,  the  two  theories  of  Strauss  and  Baur 
are  incompatible.  The  conscious  tendencies  and 
the  dogmatic  purpose  discovered  by  Baur  in  the 
composition  of  the  NT  books  cannot  coexist  with 
the  purely  unconscious  working  of  myth.ll 

That  which  is  mythical  grows  up  unconsciously. 
But  if  our  Gospels  were  constructed  to  meet  or  to 
modify  certain  special  historical  circumstances,  if 
tliey  are  to  be  regarded  as  artistic  creations,  or 
as  '  tendency '  writings,  they  cannot  be  mythical, 
as  Strauss  maintained,  nor  can  they  be  regarded 
as  the  spontaneous  and  unconscious  workings  of 

*  Nash,  op.  cit.  p.  114. 

t  On  the  unsatisfactoriness  of  the  attempt  to  apply  the  mythi- 
cal theory  to  the  rise  of  the  primitive  Christian  tradition,  see 
esp.  Fairbairn,  Philosophy  of  the  Christian  Religion,  p.  487  ff. 

t  Cf.  O.  Zockler,  Die  christliche  Apologetik  im  neumchnten 
Jahrhundert,  1904,  p.  16. 

§  See  Lichtenberger,  op.  cit.  p.  333  ;  and  .1.  E.  Carpenter,  The 
Bible  in  the  Nineteenih  Ce.nturu,  pp.  '277,  278. 

II  Baur  saw  in  the  NT  literature  the  workings  of  a  compromise 
between  the  two  radically  antagonistic  parties  of  Judaism  and 
Paulinism.  In  the  exigencies  of  his  theory  he  divided  the  penod 
of  literary  development  into  three  divisions— (1)  Extending  to 
A.D.  70,  a  period  including  the  Uouptbrlcfe  of  St.  Paul  and  the 
Apocalypse  of  St.  John.     Here  the  antagonism  v"      .-..■-.._» 

between  the  original  Ebionitit ' 

Extending  '        '      '       -     -'- 
Gospels  of  r 


height 

,  and  Paulinism.    (2) 

period  we  have  the 

the  former  being  Petrine, 

it  bearing  marks  of  con. 


aatthew  and  St.  L 
the  latter  (with  the  Acts)  Paulii 

ciliation  with  reference  to  the  above  antagonism,  anu  laier  i..c 
Gospel  of  St.  Hark  (also  of  a  conciliatory  type),  whilst  Ephe- 
sians  and  Colossians  were  invented  by  the  Pauline  party  for  the 
same  conciliatorv  purpose.  (3)  Extending  to  A.n.  170,  vi'hen 
the  controversy  was  finally  settled,  and  the  conflicting  extremes 
rejected  by  the  '  Catholic '  Church,  a  period  marked  by  the 
Gospel  and"  Epistles  which  bear  the  name  of  St.  John,  as  also  b}' 
the  Pastoral  Epistles  assigned  to  St.  Paul. 


384 


CRITIClS^r 


CRITICISM 


the  human  mind  in  its  elTorts  to  impart  reality 
to  its  hopes.  One  cannot,  in  short,  have  the 
'  mythical '  Gospels  of  Strauss  and  the  '  tendency  ' 
Gospels  of  Baur.* 

But  while  Strauss  thus  attempted  to  adapt  this 
later  work  to  some  of  the  results  and  methods  of 
the  Tiibingen  school,  he  also  came  nearer  to  Baur 
in  that  he  gave  in  this  popular  edition  of  his 
famous  book  an  account  of  Jesus  utterly  incom- 
mensurate with  the  gieatnesa  of  His  influence  and 
of  the  position  which  He  achieved.  Baur  had 
taken  little  or  no  account  of  Jesus  Himself  and 
His  Person,  and  now  Strauss,  by  withdrawing 
what  he  had  conceded  in  the  second  edition  of  his 
Leben  Jesu  as  to  the  greatness  and  moral  perfec- 
tion of  Jesus,  was  in  a  position  no  less  imprac- 
ticable than  Baur's,  so  far  as  any  satisfactory 
explanation  of  the  work  and  person  of  the  Founder 
of  Christianity  was  concerned.  We  cease  to  be 
so  much  surprised  that  Strauss  should  regard  the 
history  of  the  resurrection  of  our  Lord  as  a  piece 
of  colossal  humliug,  when  the  Jesus  whom  he 
depicted  was  so  insigniticaiit ;  or  that  Baur  should 
regard  this  same  account  of  the  resurrection  as  a 
fact  outside  the  province  of  historical  inquiry, 
when  he  made  no  serious  attempt  to  answer  the 
question  who  Jesus  was,  or  to  understand  Him 
and  His  life. 

This  supreme  importance  of  the  Person  of  Jesus 
had  been  rightly  emphasized  by  earlier  writers  of 
the  century.  Paulus,  with  all  his  faulty  method, 
had  at  least  recognized  that  the  miraculnus  in 
Christianity  was  Christ  Himself.  Ili^  I'lr^nn. 
Schleiermacher  had  seen  in  Christ  tli.  _r.ati-t 
fact  in  history,  the  one  only  sinless  .iinl  ]H'ifeit 
Man,  in  whom  the  Divinity  dwelt  in  its  fulness.' 
Herder,  of  whom  it  has  been  said  that  his  Christ- 
llchc  Schriften  gave  the  first  impulse  to  the  immense 
literature  generally  known  under  the  name  of  the 
Life  of  Christ,  did  not  forget  even  in  his  constant 
denunciations  of  the  corruptions  of  Cliristianity 
to  hold  up  to  admiration  the  Person  of  Jesus  as 
the  Prophet  of  the  truest  humanity. 

This  primary  importance  of  the  fullest  considera- 
tion of  the  Person  of  Christ  is  nowhere  seen  more 
strikingly  than  in  one  of  the  enrliest  .and  most 
effective  replies  to  Strauss'  wdik.  by  C.  Ullmann, 
a  reply  wliieh  so  influenred  Sir.in-s  ilna  lie  modi- 
fied his  position,  at  least  fci  i  i;  i^  >.  far  as  to 
concede  to  Christ  a  place  lii-i  >>i  i.  ,illy  unique  as  a 
religious  genius.  As  Ullmaiiu  insisted,  Strauss 
was  by  his  own  fundamental  philosophical  assump- 
tions debarred  from  doing  justice  to  the  Person  of 
.Tesus.t  But  if  Strauss'  position  is  correct,  then 
it  is  iiiipn-ssibln  to  understand  why  the  disciples  of 
Jcsus  slinnl.l  lia\-o  regarded  Him" as  the  Messiah  ; 
for  tiny  colli. I  srarcely  have  done  so,  and  with  such 
surprisiiiLr  suinss.  unless  there  had  been  something 
exti'aordinary  about  Him.  The  dilemma,  there- 
fore, which  'Ullmann  proposed  was  really  this — 
Did  Christ  n-ffttr  fhr  Churrh.  <-,■  ,/;,/  tli.-  Church 
invent  Christy  If  the  former,  Jesus  must  have 
been  no  mere  Jewish  Rablii,  but  a  personality  of 
extraordinary  power ;  if  the  latter,  we  have  an 
invention  which  would  make  the  history  of  Chris- 
tianity quite  incomprehensible.  It  was,  of  course, 
open  to  Strauss  to  reply  that  whilst  the  powerful 
personality  of  Jesus  had  created  the  Church, 
yet  subsequently  mjrthical  hopes  and  conceptions 
might  have  been  at  work,  transforming  and  mag- 
nifying the  idea  of  the  Christ.^  But  at  all  events 
for  a  time  Strau.ss   hesitated.      He  not  only  ac- 

•  Matliesoii,  Mils  M  the  Study  0/  German  Theology,  p.  151; 
,-f,  n'.-  I'  w.-i.-    1  -h^n  Jrm*,  i.  p.  l.W. 

I  r.  -  ii'-    .  tt.  a,  Weinel,  Jemts  im  neunzehnten  Jahr- 


knowledged  the  supremacy  of  Jesus  in  the  sphere 
of  religion,  but  he  maintained  that  He  possessed 
such  power  over  the  souls  of  men,  to  which  there 
may  have  been  conjoined  some  physical  force  like 
magnetism,  that  He  was  able  to  perform  cures 
which  were  regarded  as  miraculous.  He  even 
went  so  far  as  to  consider  the  Fourth  Gospel  as 
a  possible  historical  authority.* 

In  face  of  all  this  confusion,  and  of  the  number 
of  replies  to  Strauss  and  the  position  which  they 
took  up,  it  is  easy  to  understand  that  the  question 
of  the  sources  of  the  Gospel  history  and  a  criti- 
cism of  them  assumed  a  glowing  importance.  This 
importance  Strauss  had  practically  ignored,  and 
new  Baur's  theory  of  early  Church  history  and  of 
the  origin  of  early  Christian  documents  was  to  be 
worked  in  to  supply  the  want,  and  to  be  adopted 
by  Strauss  as  a  remedy  for  his  own  indecision  or 
indill'erence  as  to  the  Gospel  sources.  Strauss 
felt,  it  would  seem,  the  justice  of  Baur's  reproof, 
viz.  that  he  had  written  a  criticism  of  the  Gospel 
history  without  a  criticism  of  the  Gospels.t 

But  just  as  it  may  be  affirmed  that  Strauss  had 
startetl  with  dogmatic  philosophical  assumptions, 
so  the  same  judgment  must  be  passed  upon  Baur's 
starting-point.  No  one  has  admitted  this  more  fully 
than  Pfleiderer,  so  far  as  the  first  three  Gospels  are 
concerned  {op.  cit.  pp.  231,  232). 

Wilke  and  Weisse  had  already  proved,  saya 
Plieiderer,  the  priority  of  Mark  (and  had  thus, 
with  Herder,  anticipated  much  later  criticism), 
and  it  could  only  have  been  the  fact  that  Baur  was 
wedded  to  his  dogmatic  method  which  prompted 
him  to  place  Mark's  Gospel  at  least  as  late  as  A.D. 
130,  and  to  see  in  it  a  Gospel  consisting  of  ex- 
tracts from  Matthew  and  Luke. 

The  impossibility  of  separating  any  account  of 
the  /ifc  of  Christ  from  its  sources  became  more 
and  more  evident  in  the  succeeding  literature. 

2.  Closely  related  in  point  of  time  to  Strauss' 
popular  book  is  that  of  the  Frenchman  Benan. 
To  attempt  any  examination  of  the  defects  of  this 
famous  work  would  be  beyond  our  jjrovince.  But 
just  as  Strauss  was  blamed  for  his  indifi'erence  to 
any  treatment  of  the  sources,  i.e.  the  Gospels,  so 
Renan  was  blamed  for  his  half-and-half  treatment 
of  the  same  Gospels.  For  this  he  is  severely  taken 
to  task  by  Schwarz.J  He  blames  Renan  for  pass- 
ing so  lightly  over  the  inquiries  of  a  man  like 
Baur  as  to  the  origin  of  our  Gospels  ;  and  he  points 
out  that  Renan's  half-and-half  treatment  of  these 
same  Gospels,  especially  of  the  Gospel  of  John, 
avenges  itself  upon  him,  in  that  it  leads  him  on 
from  half-rationalistic  explanations  of  the  miracles 
to  explanations  which  are  adopted  even  at  the 
cost  of  the  moral  perfection  of  Jesus.  And  in  this 
connexion  he  refers,  like  other  writers,  to  the  ex- 
planation which  Renan  gives  of  the  resurrection  of 
Lazarus.  Of  course  the  earlier  Renan  placed  the 
Gospels,  the  more  difficult  it  was  for  him  to 
account  for  the  miracles  which  gathered  around 
Jesus ;  and  it  is  not  too  much  to  say  that  the 
earliest  Gospel,  St.  Mark,  the  Gospel  which  Renan 
himself  regarded  as  the  earliest,  is  bound  u])  with 
the  miraculous.  Renan's  short  and  easy  method 
was  to  declare  dogmatically  that  there  was  no 
room  in  liistory  for  the  supernatural.  Like  Strauss 
and  Baur,  Renan  too  had  his  assumption  as  to 
the  historical  worth  of  the  Gospels ;  he  too  sets 
out  with  a  general  and  comprehensive  judgment 
as  to  their  contents ;  for  him  the  Gospels  are  not 
biographies,  after  the  manner  of  those  of  Suetonius, 
nor  are  they  legends  invented  after  the  manner 
of  Philostratus ;    they  are  legendary  biographies. 

*  liichtenberger,  op.  cit.  p.  328. 
t  See  Schwarz,  op.  eit.  p.  545  f. 

;  Op.  cit.  pp.  538-640 ;  see  also  B.  Weiss,  Lye  qf  Christ,  i.  pp. 
■203,  205,  Eng.  tr. 


CEITICISM 


CRITICISM 


385 


'  I  would  compare  them  with  the  Legends  of  the 
Saints,  the  Life  of  Plotinus,  Proclus,  Isidorus,  and 
other  similar  writings,  in  which  historic  truth  and 
the  purpose  of  presenting  models  of  virtue  are 
combined  in  different  degrees.'  It  is  not,  perhaps, 
surprising  that  B.  Weiss  should  speak  of  Kenan's 
Vie  de  Jesiis  as  not  a  history  but  a  romance,  and 
should  add  that,  as  our  sources  in  their  actual 
form  were  in  many  respects  out  of  sympathy  with, 
indeed  almost  incomprehensible  to  him,  he  could 
not  escape  the  danger  of  rearranging  them  accord- 
ing to  his  own  taste,  or  in  a  merely  eclectic  way.  * 

3.  If  we  turn  to  Theodor  Keim  (1867-1872),  to 
whom  has  sometimes  been  attributed  the  '  Life  of 
Jesus '  from  a  rationalistic  standpoint,  we  notice 
that  he  too  is  severely  taken  to  task  by  Pfleiderer 
for  his  unsatisfactory  and  fluctuating  criticism  of 
the  Gospels  as  .sources,  and  for  his  too  close  ad- 
herence to  the  views  of  Baur,  especially  in  regard 
to  the  relation  of  the  Synoptics  to  each  other.  St. 
Mark,  e.g. ,  is  a  compilation  from  St.  Matthew  and  St. 
Luke,  and  St.  Matthew's  is  regarded  as  the  earliest 
Gospel.  In  comparing  Keim's  various  works  relat- 
ing to  the  life  of  Jesus,  we  certainly  find  a  strange 
fluctuation  with  regard  to  his  statements  as  to  the 
sources  and  their  validity.  Thus  he  actually  places 
St.  Matthew  in  its  prinxitive  form  as  early  as  A.D. 
66,  and  supposes  it  to  have  been  revised  and  edited 
some  thirty  years  later  ;  St.  Mark  he  places  about 
100 ;  and  St.  Luke,  in  which  he  sees  a  Gospel 
written  by  a  companion  of  St.  Paul,  about  90. 

But  in  1873  Keim  issued  a  book  of  a  more 
popular  character,  and  in  this  we  find  that  the 
revision  of  St.  Matthew  is  placed  about  100,  St. 
Mark  about  120,  St.  Luke  also  about  100,  while  it 
is  no  longer  referred  to  a  companion  of  St.  Paul. 
Some  years  later  (1878)  Keim's  position  with  regard 
to  the  Gospels  was  again  differently  expressed, 
and  he  seems  to  be  prepared  to  make  certain  con- 
cessions to  his  opponents,  and  to  attach  more 
weight  to  the  two-document  theory  as  the  result 
of  a  fresh  study  of  Papias.t  But  it  will  be  noticed 
that  Pfleiderer  has  nothing  but  praise  for  Keim's 
treatment  of  the  Fourth  Gospel,  which  in  1867  he 
places  between  100  and  117,  and  a  few  years  after 
(1873)  as  late  as  A.D.  130.  It  must  not,  however, 
be  forgotten  that,  as  Dr.  Drummond  rightly  points 
out,  Keim's  position  with  regard  to  St.  John's 
Gospel  marks  a  very  long  retreat  in  date  from  the 
position  of  Baur,  whilst  Pfleiderer  himself  is  the 
sole  critic  of  importance  who  still  places  the 
Gospel  in  question  at  the  extravagant  date,  170, 
demanded  by  the  founder  of  the  Tiibingen  school. 

But  with  all  these  variations  as  to  dates,  and 
with  the  free  concession  of  the  presence  of  mythical 
elements  in  the  accounts  of  the  great  events  of  our 
Lord's  life,  Keim  takes  up  a  very  different  position 
from  Strauss  and  Baur,  and  at  all  events  the  early 
members  of  the  Tubingen  school,  with  regard  to 
the  importance  of  the  Person  of  Jesus  and  of  our 
knowledge  of  Him.  Nowhere  is  this  more  plainly 
seen  than  in  the  remarkable  stress  which  he  lays 
upon  St.  Paul's  references  to  the  facts  of  our  Lorc\'s 
earthly  life  and  upon  his  high  Cliristology.  Baur 
and  his  followers  had  fixed  men's  attention  upon 
Paul,  Keim  insists  upon  the  unique  and  supreme 
importance  of  Jesus,  and  he  sees  in  Him  the  Sinless 
One,  the  Son  of  God. 

But  Keim's  portraiture  of  Jesus  is  marred  by  many  incon- 
sistencies. Thus  he  is  prepared  to  admit  that  the  miracles  of 
healing  may  have  happened  in  response  to  the  faith  evoked  by 
the  personality  of  Jesus,  or  he  is  thrown  back  in  his  treatment 
of  the  miraculous  upon  the  old  rationalistic  methods  ;  the  story, 
e.g.,  of  Jesus  walking  upon  the  sea  had  its  origin  in  the  word's, 
'  Ye  know  not  at  what  hour  of  the  night  your  Lord  cometh.'  In 
some  respects  it  is  not  too  much  to  say  that  even  the  moral  sin- 
lessness  of  Jesus  is  endangered,  if  not  sacrificed.     Keim  rejects, 

*  B.  Weiss,  op.  cit.  pp.  184,  187. 
t  Sanday,  art.  '  Gospels '  in  Smith's  DB^  ii.  p.  1218. 
VOL.  L-25 


it  13  true,  the  visionary  hypothesis,  but  he  finds  no  alternative 
except  the  conviction  that  nothing  irrefutable  can  be  known 
concerning  the  issue  of  the  life  of  Jesus,  an  assertion  equally 
unsatisfactory  with  that  of  Baur.  He  speaks  sometimes  of  the 
early  and  Apostolic  testimony  rendered  to  the  appearances  of 
the  risen  Jesus,  while  at  times  he  seems  unable  to  realize  the 
full  force  of  this  early  testimony  and  its  marked  reserve.  In 
chronology  we  note  another  instance  of  Keim's  arbitrary 
■       -  he  knows  of  no  going  up  to  Jerusalem  before  the 


I  single  year. 


nd  the  publii 


nprised  within 


In  spite  of  much  that  savours  of  subjectivity, 
Keim,  however,  stands  out  as  the  writer  who,  m 
the  'Life  of  Jesm  movement,'  as  Nippold  has 
called  it,  has  hitherto  treated  most  fully  of  the 
Gospels  as  authorities,  with  the  exception,  perhaps, 
of  Weizsacker.  We  have  seen  how  this  need  of  a 
full  treatment  of  the  Gospels  as  sources  had  been 
felt  since  the  days  of  Strauss'  first  edition  of  his 
Leben  Jesu,  and  we  shall  see  that  this  need  is  still 
further  felt  and  emphasized. 

i.  VVithin  a  few  years  of  the  latest  publication 
of  Keim's  work,  two  important  Lives  of  Jesus,  which 
are  often  mentioned  together,  issued  from  the 
press  in  Germany,  viz.  B.  "ffeisB'  Lebcn  Jesu  and 
Beyschlag's  book  bearing  the  same  title.  These 
books  are  of  interest  not  only  as  important  in  the 
'Life  of  Jesus  movement,'  but  as  further  and 
valuable  attempts  to  deal  with  our  Gospels  and 
their  sources.  Here  it  must  be  sufficient  to  say 
that  they  testify  to  the  new  importance  which  had 
been  given  to  the  Synoptic  problem  by  H.  Holtz- 
mann's  book.  Die  SynopHschcn  Evangelien,  1863. 

5.  Holtziuann'a  book  gains  its  value  not  only  by 
its  rejection  of  the  '  tendency '  theories  with  regard 
to  the  composition  of  the  Gospels,  but  also  because, 
in  its  advocacy  of  the  two-document  hypothesis, 
as  we  now  call  it,  it  marks  a  new  departure,  and 
lays  down  a  foundation  for  future  study.*  Holtz- 
mann's  investigations  had  been  published  in  the 
year  before  Strauss  gave  to  the  German  people  his 

f)Opular  Life  of  Jesus,  in  which,  as  we  have  seen, 
lis  account  of  the  Gospels  was  still  based  upon  the 
Tubingen  researches  ;  but  Holtzmann's  theory  has 
a  permanent  interest  for  \is  to-day,  while  the 
author's  subsequent  statements  of  his  views  may 
be  found  in  his  published  commentaries.  It  has 
indeed  been  said  of  the  two-document  theory  that 
it  may  almost  be  reckoned  to  have  passed  out  of 
the  rank  and  number  of  mere  hypotheses  ;  t  and  at 
all  events  any  account  of  the  life  and  teaching  of 
Jesus,  or  any  investigation  as  to  the  historical 
character  of  the  Gospels,  will  have  to  take  note  of 
it  not  only  in  itself,  but  in  its  many  possible  com- 
binations with  other  sources. 

This  statement  can  be  easily  verified  by  a  perusal  of  recent 
expositions  of  their  views  by  representative  \    " 


to  St.  Mark  being  the  interpreter  of  St.  Peter,  and  the  actual 
contents  of  our  earliest  Gospel,  and  how  he  finds  in  the  Logia 
of  St.  Matthew  an  uncommonly  rich  and  valuable  material  of 
Apostolic  tradition,  which  may  be  placed  by  the  side  of  St. 
Mark  as  a  complementary  source  for  a  knowledge  of  the  teach- 
ing of  Jesus.  Bousset,  in  his  little  but  important  book,  Was 
unssen.  wir  von  Jesiis .',  is  loud  in  his  praises  of  the  way  in  which 
modern  research  as  to  the  original  sources  of  the  Synoptica 
harmonizes  so  strikingly  with  the  famous  statement  of  Papias, 
So,  too,  von  Soden  refers  to  the  previous  work  of  Weizsacker 
and  Holtzmann,  and  speaks  of  two  Un'vangelicn  (although  he 
uses  this  term  with  some  hesitation),  which  go  back  one  to  St. 
Peter  and  the  other  to  St.  Matthew,  and  he  finds  it  possible  to 
trace  a  connexion  between  the  familiar  statement  of  Papias  and 
our  Gospels  of  St  Mark  and  St.  Matthew  (Die  wichtigsten 
Fragen  im  Leben  Jesu,  1904,  pp.  4-2,  62).t 


*  See  also  J.  Estlin  Carpenter,  The  Bible  in  the  yiiieteenth 
Century,  p.  301,  and  his  remarks  on  the  two-document  hypo- 
thesis. He  points  out  that  the  conclusion  of  Weizsacker'3 
investigations  pointed  in  the  same  direction  (cf.  his  Untersuch- 
ungen  iiber  die  Evangelische  Geschichte,  1869,  2nd  ed.  lilOl). 

t  Moftatt,  Historical  NT\  p.  264. 

J  So,  too,  Deissmann,  '  Evangelium  und  Urchristentum '  in 
Beitrdgezur  Weiterentvm:klung  der  christlichen  Religion,  p.  128. 
Deissmann  seems  inclined  to  attach  some  considerable  weight 
to  oral  tradition  and  its  trustworthiness,  a  very  important 
consideration. 


CKITICISM 


CRITICISM 


It  must,  of  course,  be  remembered  that,  like 
H.  Holtzmann,  these  other  writers  referred  to 
did  not  regard  the  two-document  theory  as  alone 
sufficient  to  explain  the  origin  of  t  he  Gospels.  Other 
material  was  no  doubt  present  in  the  Synoptics  in 
addition  to  the  two  dociunents,  as  we  caji  see  in 
the  case  of  St.  Luke  (cf.  art.  LUKE).* 

And  it  must  also  be  remembered  that  Holtzmann 
did  not  start  with  a  belief  that  the  sources  of  the 
first  two  Gospels,  St.  Mark  and  St.  Matthew, 
must  correspond  wth  the  two  documents  refened 
to  by  Papias.  On  the  contrary,  the  investigation 
of  tlie  Gospels  showed  him  that  there  were  two 
sources  at  the  base  of  our  Synoptic  writings,  which 
closely  resembled  the  statements  of  Papias  with 
regard  to  the  documents  which  he  referred  to  St. 
Mark  and  St.  Matthew. 

6.  But  some  half  dozen  years  before  Holtz- 
mann's  book  was  published,  another,  and  in  many 
respects  a  more  serious,  opposition  to  the  methods 
of  the  Tubingen  School,  had  made  itself  felt  in  the 
breaking  away  of  Albrecht  Ritschl  from  his  former 
standpoint.  In  1857  this  final  break  was  made, 
and  for  more  than  thirty  years  Kitschl  was  des- 
tined to  be  a  great  and  growing  factor  of  interest 
in  the  German  theological  world.  Ritschl  was 
keenly  alive  to  the  importance  to  be  attached 
to  the  Person  of  Christ.  In  his  treatment  of  the 
books  of  the  NT  he  was  to  a  great  extent  con- 
servative, inasmuch  as  he  accepted  the  traditional 
authorship  of  so  many  of  those  books,  as,  e.g.,  of 
the  Gospel  of  St.  John. 

But,  on  the  other  hand,  it  is  urged  that  Ritschl's 
own  peculiar  doctrine  and  the  paramount  stress 
which  he  laid  on  our  experimental  knowledge  of 
Christ's  power  to  confer  spiritual  freedom  and 
deliverance,  no  doubt  tended  to  make  him  inde- 
pendent of,  if  not  inditlerent  to,  the  results  of 
criticism.  Kitschl  and  his  distinguished  follower 
W,  Herpmann  lay  the  greatest  stress,  and  would 
have  us  lay  the  greatest  stress,  upon  the  impres- 
sion made  upon  us  by  the  '  historical '  Christ. 
But  it  is  not  easy  to  ascertain  what  is  meant  by 
this  '  historical '  Christ,  by  loyalty  to  whom  the 
true  Christian  is  known.  This  is  the  favourite 
Kitsthlian  position,  this  insistence  upon  the  im- 
pression which  Christ  makes  upon  the  soul  histori- 
cally confronted  with  Him.  But  we  naturally 
ask,  From  whence  and  from  what  is  this  impression 
derived  ?  Not,  surely,  from  the  impression  of  the 
earthly  life  of  Jesus  alone,  as  Herrmann  main- 
tained, but  from  what  Kahler  has  called  the 
'  Biblical  Christ ' ;  the  Christ  of  the  NT  is  the 
Christ  not  only  of  the  Gospels,  but  of  the  Epistles 
and  of  the  Church. 

It  is  ur^ed,  indeed,  by  the  Ritschlians  repre- 
sented by  Herrmann,  that  this  faith  in  the  his- 
torical Christ  guarantees  that,  whatever  criticism 
may  effect,  it  cannot    interfere   with  the    tnith 

•  The  two-document  theory  is  sharply  criticized  by  M.  Lepin 
{Jisui  itessie  et  Fits  de  Dieu,  p.  xxxvi,  1905),  although  he  admits 
that  it  is  adopted  by  a  certain  number  of  Romanist  n-riters.  e.g. 
Loisy,  Batiffol,  Minocchi,  La^^nge.  M.  Lepin's  contention  is 
that  the  theor>'  in  question  is  not  in  agreement  with  the  most 
ancient  testimony,  which  regards  St.  Matthew  as  the  first  ot 
the  Gospels,  composed  for  the  Jewish  Christians  of  the  first 
days,  and  as  an  authentic  work  of  the  Apostle.  He  admits  at 
the  same  tirae(p.  xxxvii  :'  I  ■  mt  writers  claim  to 

make  this  two-documirii  i.' full  authenticity 

of  the  First  Gospel  {i.-\  •  .t  admission  is  at 

least  made  of  the  semi-iL  ' .  ^pel  bv  those  who 

claim  to  recognize  in  ll.  ..  nt,  the  Logia  of 

Papias,  the  actual  work  ot  .St.  Matthew.  He  also  obsen'os  that 
even  Schraiedel  allows  that  il  St.  Matthew  was  not  the  author  of 
the  Lorjia,  he  may  at  all  events  have  been  the  author  of  a 
writing,  more  ancient  still,  upon  which  the  Logia  depended 
(F.iiciic.  Bibt.  art.  'Gospels,'  ii.  1891).  See  also  Stanton,  Tht 
(lospeU  as  Historical  Documents,  pp.  17, 18,  for  the  (act  that  the 
Gospel  which  bears  the  name  of  St  Matthew  is  the  most  often 
quoted  of  the  Synoptics  in  early  days  ;  and  it  is  difficult,  as  even 
Jiilicher  allows,  to  account  for  the  attribution  of  a  Gospel  to  an 
.\postle  so  little  known  as  St.  Matthew. 


and  power  of  the  position  already  won,  and  with 
the    response   made   by  the   human    soul   to   the 

Snfection  of  Christ  presented  to  us  in  the  Gospels. 
ut  whatever  may  have  been  the  case  with 
Kitschl  himself,  it  can  scarcely  be  said  that  liis 
method  has  prevented  those  who  claim  in  some 
measure  to  be  his  followers  from  dealing  very 
loosely  >vith  the  Gospel  miracles,  or  with  such 
events  as  the  Virgin-birth  and  the  Resurrection 
of  the  Lord.  And  it  is  difficult  to  see  how  this 
process  of  solution  can  fail  to  weaken  the  impres- 
sion made  by  the  'historical'  Christ,  and  our  con- 
fidence in  the  revelation  which  we  owe  to  His  life. 

Many  of  tliose  who  are  classed  as  Ritschlians 
dismiss  in  a  somewhat  arbitrary  fashion  sayings 
and  deeds  of  our  Lord  which  seem  to  them  to 
admit  of  difficidty.  The  manner,  e.g.,  in  which 
J.  Weisa  has  dealt  with  the  oldest  Gospel,  that  of 
St.  Mark,  in  his  Das  alteste  Evangelium,  cannot 
be  said  to  inspire  a  conviction  of  the  truthfulness 
of  many  of  the  most  familiar  Gospel  narratives. 
Henmann's  own  statements  help  us  to  see  how  sub- 
jective his  method  may  become.  He  maintains, 
e.g.,  that  through  the  impression  which  Christ 
makes  upon  us  and  our  experimental  knowledge 
of  His  power  to  confer  freedom  and  deliverance, 
all  uncertainty  as  to  whether  the  figure  of  Jesus, 
which  works  thus  upon  us,  belongs  to  legend  or  to 
history  is  in  the  nature  of  the  case  impossible.* 

But  it  seems  a  curious  argument  to  maintain 
that  the  impression  which  Jesus  makes  upon  us  is 
the  positive  revelation  made  by  God  in  Christ, 
while  the  Gospels  from  which  we  derive  that 
impression  may  or  may  not  consist  in  this  in- 
stance or  in  that  of  legendary  and  untrustworthy 
matter.  Herrmann  himself  says  that,  in  face  of 
the  seriousness  of  a  desire  for  a  salvation  which 
means  forgiveness  of  sins  and  life  in  spiritual 
freedom,  the  miracles  in  the  NT  necessarily  be- 
come of  minor  importance  ...  he  who  has  found 
Jesus  Himself  to  be  the  ground  of  his  salvation 
has  no  need  of  those  miracles  (op.  cit.  p.  180).  But 
if  Jesus  is  '  found '  through  the  portrait  of  His 
life  presented  to  us  in  the  NT,  it  is  not  too  much 
to  say  that  that  life  is  inextricably  bound  up,  from 
its  beginning  to  its  close,  with  the  miraculous,  and 
that  the  impression  which  that  life  has  made 
upon  the  world  has  been  made  by  a  record  from 
whicli  the  miraculous  cannot  be  eliminated.  Con- 
viction of  sin,  e.g.,  must  precede  deliverance  from 
it ;  and  St.  Peter's  cry,  '  Depart  from  me  ;  for  I  am 
a  sinful  man,  O  Lord '  (Lk  5'),  resulted  not  only 
from  Christ's  teaching,  but  also  from  the  proof  of 
His  miraculous  power. 

7.  It  is  in  this  attitude  towards  the  miraculous, 
and  in  this  eflbrt  to  lessen  its  scope,  that  we  mav 
find  a  point  of  contact  between  what  we  may  call 
the  'scientific'  and  the  Ritschlian  school.  In  a 
large  and  growing  number  of  German  critics  who 
might  be  described  as  '  scientific,'  if  not  as  radical, 
there  is  an  acceptance  of  the  miracles  of  healing 
as  due  to  the  power  of  the  personality  of  Jesus 
and  to  the  response  of  faith  which  lie  evoked. 
We  may  see  this  in  more  or  less  degree  in  the 
statements  of  O.  Holtzmann  (Leben  Jesii,  pp.  58, 
149,  166),  or  in  those  of  Furrer  {Das  Leben  Jesii 
Chfisti,  pp.  129,  130),  or  in  Bousset  ( Was  icissen 
u-ir  von  Jesus  ?,  p.  56).  So,  too,  statements  of  a 
similar  kind  meet  us  again  and  again  in  the  ac- 
count of  the  miracles  of  Jesus  given  us  in  the 
series  of  popular  little  books  on  the  religious- 
historical  aspects  of  Christianity,  which  is  now  in 
course  of  publication  in  German}'  (cf.  Die  Wunder 
im  NT,  pp.  32 ff.,  51  tf,  by  Traub).t    -Ajid  in  our 

•See,  e.g..  Communion  u-ith  God,  p.  177,  and  cf.  p.  81ff. 
Eng.  tr.,  for  other  8tat«ments  made  above. 

t  See  on  the  value  ot  these  little  books  the  Hibbert  Journal, 
January  1906. 


CRITICISM 


CRITICISM 


own  country  we  remember  how  decisively  Dr.  P. 
Gardner  would  discriminate  between  mere  wonders 
of  healing  and  '  miracles  proper,'  and  how  he 
describes  Jesus  as  a  healer  of  disease  as  his- 
toric* 

But  at  the  same  time  it  is  evident  how  much 
there  is  which  is  arbitrary  in  this  modem  treat- 
ment of  the  miraculous.  Thus  Lepiu  justly  criti- 
cises Schmiedel's  attitude  in  this  connexion.t 
Schmiedel  distinctly  affirms  that  it  would  be 
wrong  in  any  investigation  of  the  miracle-narra- 
tives of  tlie  Gospels  to  .start  from  any  sueli 
liostulate  or  axiom  as  that  miracles  are  impossible 
(Encyc.  Bibl.  art.  '  Gospels,'  col.  1876).  But  a  few 
pages  later  in  the  same  article  (col.  1885)  he  writes 
that  it  is  quite  permissible  for  us  to  regard  as 
historical  only  those  cures  of  the  class  which  even 
at  the  present  day  physicians  are  able  to  effect  by 
psychical  methods — as,  more  especially,  cures  of 
mental  maladies  (cf.  also  Harnack,  Das  Wesen  des 
Christentums,  p.  18).  The  same  occasional  power 
is  ascribed  to  Jesus  by  Professor  N.  Schmidt,  The 
Prophet  of  Nazareth,  p.  264. 

So,  too,  Schmiedel  (op.  cit.  col.  1882)  and  Wendt 
(Die  Lehre  Jesu,  p.  471)  agiee  in  interpreting  the 
words  in  our  Lord's  message  to  the  Baptist  as 
referring  to  the  spiritually  dead,  'the  dead  are 
raised'  (Mt  IP,  Lk  7"),  just  as  in  their  opinion 
the  preceding  words  are  to  be  interpreted  of  the 
spiritually  lame  and  blind.  But,  in  the  first  place, 
there  is  no  proof  that  the  previous  clauses  are  to 
be  interpreted  in  any  such  spiritual  sense,  and 
the  Evangelists  evidently  did  not  so  interpret 
them.  It  is  urged  that  we  can  find  a  precedent  for 
this  spiritual  interpretation  in  the  familiar  passage 
Is  35'  ;  but  nothing  is  said  in  Isaiah  of  the  raising 
of  the  dead,  a  fact  entirely  ignored  by  N.  Schmidt, 
who  is  at  one  with  Schmiedel  and  Wendt  in  their  in- 
terpretation (I.e.  p.  238).  Moreover,  it  is  very  open 
to  question  if  there  was  any  Jewish  expectation 
that  the  Messiah  would  raise  the  dead,  so  that  St. 
Matthew  and  St.  Luke  had  no  ground  of  general 
belief  upon  which  to  base  the  raisings  of  the 
dead  which  they  so  evidently  attributed  to  Jesus 
of  Nazareth.  Even  if  there  are  isolated  state- 
ments in  Jewish  theology  which  attribute  to  the 
Messiah  the  power  of  raising  the  dead,  it  would 
seem  to  have  been  far  more  generally  believed 
that  God  would  Himself  raise  the  dead.  Fur- 
ther, even  in  those  passages  which  do  attribute 
this  power  to  the  Messiah,  it  is  most  important 


any  kind  in  Jewish  writings  to  the  raising  by  the 
Messiah  of  single  individuals  (cf.  Edersheim,  Life 
and  Times  of  Jesus  the  Messiah,  i.  p.  632). 

But  this  attitude,  maintained  by  some  of 
Hitachi's  followers  and  by  the  representative  critics 
of  the  '  scientific '  school,  extends  to  a  crucial  ques- 
tion and  a  crucial  miracle,  viz.  the  Resurrection  of 
our  Lord  from  the  dead.  We  may  readily  grant 
Ritschl's  own  acceptance  of  this  fundamental  his- 
torical fact  of  Christian  belief,  t  But  what  is  to  be 
said  of  a  large  number  of  bis  followers?  Some 
of  them  would  no  doubt  allow  that  Christ  awoke 
to  a  heavenly  life  with  God,  or  they  would  labour 
to  draw  a  distinction  between  the  Easter  faith  and 
the  Easter  message  ;  or  they  would  allow  that  the 
Resurrection  was  a  fact  of  religious  faith,  or  that, 
whilst  the  traditional  record  is  often  doubtful,  the 
essential  contents  of  the  record  are,  and  mean, 
everything.§  But  it  is  upon  this  question  of  the 
Resurrection  that  Peine  rijjhtly  takes  his  stand, 
and  upon  the  hulu-ion  m   ,  elusion  of  this  fact 

•  AHistoncVicn.^  ;f 

iJfsus  Messieel  I'l  ,  |.|..  Ixvi,  Ixvii. 

t  See  the  remarks  .it  c  n.  1,,  //,,  /:.' .rl,lfim  ThfoloaiJ.-D.t2i. 

§  Orr,  RitsdUian  riavlvw.  v.  iiK. 


in    any    satisfactory    picture    of    the    historical 
Christ.* 

If  we  turn  again  to  one  of  the  most  prominent 
critics  who  may  be  classed  as  Ritschlians,  A.  Har- 
nack, we  are  not  only  met  by  his  famous  distinc- 
tion between  the  Easter  faith  and  the  Easter 
but  we    also    become    aware    that    his 


classification  of  the  Gospel  miracles  is  not  calcu- 
lated to  increase  our  belief  and  confidence  in  the 
character  of  the  Gospel  narrative.  Harnack  admits, 
indeed,  that  the  spiritual  power  of  Jesus  was  so 
great  that  we  cannot  dismiss  offhand  as  an  illusion 
the  reports  that  He  could  make  the  blind  to  see 
or  the  deaf  to  hear.  But,  apart  from  these  reports 
of  surprising  cures,  Harnack  would  regard  the 
stories  of  the  miraculous  which  are  connected  with 
Jesus  as  arising  from  exaggerations  of  natural 
and  impressive  events,  or  from  the  projection  of 
inner  experiences  on  to  the  outer  world,  or  from 
an  interest  in  the  fulfilment  of  OT  records,  or  from 
various  parables  and  sayings.  In  these  and  in 
similar  ways  the  miraculous  stories  arose.  And 
yet,  after  all  is  said,  it  will  be  noticed  that  there 
are  narratives  of  miracles  which  do  not  fall  under 
the  above  heads,  and  these  Harnack  comprises 
under  one  category  as  impenetrable  stories,  the 
secret  of  which  we  cannot  solve,  t 

8.  One  other  and  important  point  in  which  the 
'  scientific '  German  theologians  and  the  left  wing 
of  Ritschl's  followers  agree  is  in  the  i-ejection  of 
the  Apostolic  authorship  of  t/ie  Fourth  Gospel. 
And  with  this  rejection  there  must  needs  be  a 
serious  weakening  of  the  evidence  as  to  our  Lord's 
Deity,  although  no  doubt  this  evidence  may  be 
substantiated  from  the  Synoptists  alone.  The 
remarkable  thing  is  that  both  Ritschlian  and 
'scientific'  critics  are  alike  impressed  with  the 
indications  that  in  the  Fourth  Gospel  we  are  deal- 
ing with  a  source  or  sources  full  of  minute  details 
and  vivid  recollections. 

ers  the  G^,^. 
igeHi 

belonged  to  the  same  circle  in  which  the  old  Apostle  St.  John 
had  lived,  and  that  he  thus  had  access  to  written  information 
and  to  oral  tradition  received  from  the  beloved  disciple  (Das 
Johannesevangetium,  p.  216ff.).  P.  W.  Schmidt,  in  his  Die 
Geschickte  Jem  (1904,  p.  95),  cannot  help  feeling  the  force  of 
the  exact  and  minute  geographical  references  which  the  Fourth 
Gospel  contains,  although  he  rejecU  the  Johannine  authorship. 
Von  Soden,  although  he  refuses  to  rank  the  Fourth  Gospel 
amongst  the  historical  sources  for  a  '  Life '  of  Jesus,  admits  on 
the  same  page  that  the  writer  of  that  Gospel  had  access  to  good 
traditions  in  his  notices  of  place  and  time,  in  the  small  details 
which  mark  his  recitals,  and  in  his  information  as  to  various 
personalities  (Die  wichtigsten  Fraoen  im  Leben  Jem,  1904, 
p.  5).  J  If  we  turn  to  English  critics  we  find  Dr.  Percy  Gardner 
inclined  to  follow  Dr.  Harnack's  view  that  the  Fourth  Gospel 
was  the  work  of  John  the  Elder,  who  was  a  disciple  of  John  the 
son  of  Zebedee.  Dr.  Gardner,  too,  is  so  impressed  with  the 
writer's  precise  local  knowledge,  that  he  thinks  it  may  well  have 
been  derived  from  one  of  the  Apostles,  and  very  likely  from 
John  the  son  of  Zebedee. § 

So  far  as  English  criticism  is  concerned,  it  cannot 
be  said  that  anything  which  has  been  urged  has 
broken  down  the  strong  lines  of  defence  which  we 


*  Thus,  in  dwelling  upon  the  contending  parties  and  their 
disputes  as  to  the  '  historical '  and  the  '  biblical '  Christ,  Feine 
writes  :  '  Die  Streitfrage  lief  also  darauf  hinaus,  ob  die  Aufer- 
stehung  Jesu  mit  in  der  Bild  des  geschichtlichen  Christus 
einzubeziehen  sei  Oder  nicht ' ;  cf.  Das  Christenium  Jesu  mid 
das  Christentwn  der  Apostel,  1904, 


47,   48. 


See  especially  the  reply  of  Prof.  W.  Walther  of  Rostock 
narnack's  Das  Wesen  des  Christentums^,  1904,  pp.  47, 
Harnack's  last  category  is  expressed  bv  the  word  •  Undurchdri  ..„ 
lichcs.'  Reference  should  also  be  made  to  T.  H.  Wright's  The 
Finger  0/  God,  1903,  p.  194,  and  his  valuable  Appendix  on  the 
view  taken  by  Dr.  Percy  Gardner  and  by  Dr.  Harnack  of  our 
Lord's  miracles,  and   also  on  early  Christian  and  mediffival 


324),  dismisses  the  attribution  of  the  Fourth  Gospel  to  a  prcshy  t 
John  as  without  v,alue,  and  regards  the  Gospel  as  composed  I 
a  Christian,  ilependent  upon  the  Apostle  John,  at  the  openil 


388 


CRITICISM 


CRITICISM 


owe  to  Lightfoot,  Westcott,  Sanilay,  and  n 
recently  to  Dr.  Drummond.  As  Dr.  Stanton  lias 
rightly  urged,  there  must  have  been  good  gi-ounds 
for  believing  that  the  Fourth  Gospel  was  founded 
upon  Apostolic  testimony,  in  order  to  overcome  the 

Prejudice  which  would  be  created  by  the  contrasts 
etween  it  and  accounts  which  had  been  more 
generally  received.* 

9.  But  whilst,  in  the  respects  which  we  have 
nientioned,  the  position  of  the  Ritschlian  School 
is  so  unsatisfactory,  we  may  welcome,  with  those 
who  are  not  at  all  in  .sympathy  with  Ritsehl's 
views  or  with  the  Wews  of  his  followers,  the 
witness  borne  by  so  many  Ritschlians  to  a  living 
Lord  and  the  unique  place  which  they  assign  to  tl: 
Person  of  Christ  in  any  account  of  Christianity.f 
Among  those,  e.g.,  who  are  classed  as  Ritschlians  we  have  < 
the  one  hand  men  like  Troeltsch  supporting  strongly  ai 
ardently  the  value  of  the  study  of  Comparative  Religion  for 
right  Itnowledfe  of  Christianity,  and  maintaining  that  the 
religious-historical  method  should  be  applied  to  every  depart- 
ment of  theological  thought ;  whilst  Harnack,  with  Eeischle, 
hesitates  to  follow,  and  is  eridently  alive  to  the  fact  that  the 
method  in  question  may  be  carried  too  tar.  Dr.  Harnack's  words 
on  the  subject  are  remarkable.  He  expresses  his  desire  that 
the  German  theological  Faculties  may  remain  so  for  the  pursuit 
of  inquiry  into  the  Christian  religion,  because  Christianity  is 
not  a  religion  by  the  side  of  other  religions,  but  the.  religion, 
and  because  Christ  is  not  one  Master  by  the  side  of  other 
Masters,  but  the  Master  ;  the  disciples  were'conscious  that  they 
possessed  in  Christ  not  merely  a  Master,  but  that  they  knew 
themselves  to  be  men,  new  men,  redeemed  by  Him,  and  that 
therefore  they  could  preach  Him  as  Saviour  and  Lord.t  It  is 
quite  tme  that  the  American  writer,  Professor  W.  A.  Brown, 
Bees  in  some  of  Harnack's  statements,  and  in  his  recognition  of 
the  gospel  of  Jesus  as  that  which  satisfies  the  deepest  depths  of 
humanity,  the  promise  of  a  better  understanding  between  the 
two  parties  in  the  RitschUan  ranks  :  '  With  this  recognition  of 
the  ailima  naturaliter  Christiana,  of  a  preparation  for  Christi- 


torical  method. 


however,  the  advocates  of  the  religious-his- 
;  least  m  its  extreme  fonn,  show  no  disposition 
to  confine  themselves  to  the  comparison  of  Christianity  with 
other  reli^ons  in  respect  to  its  inward  witness  alone ;  they 
extend  this  comparison  to  the  historical  facts  of  the  NT,  and 
they  do  so  in  a  manner  which  savours  of  recklessness  and  ex- 
travagance. ||  The  need  of  caution  seems  to  be  admitted  even 
by  Pfieiderer  when  he  writes,  '  Before  all  things,  we  must  guard 
agiinst  the  constant  practice  of  imagining  that  the  inward 
affinity  of  religious  conceptions  implies  a  connexion  in  their 
external  history.' IF 

And  when  we  turn  to  the  Ritschlians,  it  is  evident  that  men 
like  Reischle  are  weU  aware  of  the  many  safeguards  with  which 
the  reUgious-historical  method  and  its  study  should  be  guarded." 
His  criticism,  e.g.  that  we  should  note  not  only  points  of  like- 
ness but  points  of  unlikeness  in  any  pursuit  of  the  method  in 

-  "  is  endorsed  by  Heinrici  and  others,  who  have  joined 
'-  '-  opposing   the   reUgious-historical   study  of 


with   Harnack 


*  The  Gospels  as  Historical  Docjiments,  i.  p.  277 ;  and  cf.  to 
the  same  effect,  Sanday,  The  Criticism  of  the  Fourth  Gospel, 
1905,  pp.  15,  41 ;  see  also  Dr.  Chase,  Cambridge  Theological 
Eisays,  1906,  p.  38.3.  Mr.  Conybeare  has  the  boldness  to  assure 
us  that  any  modern  scholar  who  upholds  the  hypothesis  of  the 
Apostolic  authorship  of  the  Fourth  Gospel  is  at  least  as  wanting 
in  perspective  and  insight  as  the  much  derided  upholders  of  the 
\iew  that  the  Pauline  Epistles  were  only  concocted  in  the  2nd 
cent.  (Bibbert  Journal,  July  1903,  p.  620).  But  he  takes  no 
notice  of  Dr.  Drummond's  defence,  and,  whilst  he  is  loud  in  his 
praises  of  the  Ahhi  Loisy,  it  may  be  of  interest  to  note  that 
another  liberal  Romanist,  P6re  Calmes,  has  now  given  us  an 
admirable  defence  of  the  Johannine  authorship,  rtrunn!!,- 
selon  Saint  Jean,  1900.  For  a  sharp  and  decisi\  •■  rrplx  tn  ihc 
extraordinary  attack  by  Kreyenbiihl  upon  the  ,-mili.irslii|i,  ^r, 
Outjahr,  Die  Glartbensuriirdigkeit  des  Irenni<,-li.-n  /,„,,„;,>.,,, 
iiber  die  Ab/assung  des  vierten  kanonischen  Eyaui!'^/luii>.<  ^^M^^ 
p.  4  fl.  .  .         . 

t  See  Orr,  The  Christian  Fiew  of  God  and  the  W,irld,  pp.  63, 
79,  on  the  central  place  of  Christ's  Person  in  His  religion. 
*  Ritachlianism  is  perhaps  nothing  more  nor  less  than  a  deter- 
mined attempt  to  find  the  whole  contents  of  Christianity  in  the 
Person  of  Christ*  {Cambridge  Theolttgical  Essat/g,  1905 

I  Die  Aufgabe  der   theol.   Faeutidten  '     " 


1903,  pp.  28B,  287. 
el's  extraordinary  theory  as  to 
n  the  third  day.  Expos.' Times, 
t  writer  may  refer  to  The  Testi- 
l>   526,  627,  or  A.  Meyer's  Die 


"^iS. 


Hein 


anity  as  if  it  were  only  one  of  many  religions.  Thus 
;i  insists  with  great  force  that  if  the  resurrection  of  Jesus 
idered  from  the  religious-historical  point  of  view  it  is 


iiique ;  and 


the 


Jeremias,  ...  .„ 

Gunkel,  insists  that  the  resurrection  of  Jesus,  as  it  is  described 
as  taking  place,  is  without  analogy  in  any  other  religion.*  In 
the  same  pamphlet  Reischle  warns  us  against  the  danger  of 
attaching  too  great  value  to  analogies,  and  transforming  them 
into  relations  of  dependence.  He  does  not  deny  that  analo^'ies 
■  ■  between  9riental  religions  and  Christianity,  but  he  is 
apprecia- 


keenly  alive  to  the  fact  that  their  right  and  i 


He: 


regards 
.  this  J< 


Gnosticism  an  important  role  in  "establishing  points  of  con- 
nexion between  Christianity  and  other  religions  (op.  cit.  pp.  30, 
31).  So,  too,  he  rightly  draws  attention  to  the  danger  of  over- 
valuing the  form  of  an  ex-pression  to  the  neglect  of  the  actual 
meaning  of  its  contents,  and  he  quotes  the  aphorism,  '  Si  duo 
dicunt  idem,  non  est  idem '  (op.  cit.  pp.  31,  33).  He  further 
illustrates  this  position  by  the  use  of  the  familiar  formula,  ■  In 
the  Name  of  Jesus,'  of  which  Heitmiiller  has  made  so  niuch.t 
Such  words  might,  no  doubt,  be  employed  as  a  magical  or  super- 
stitious formula,  but  tliey  might  also 'be  used  as  a  confession  of 
Chi-istian  faith  in  Jesus,  or  as  an  invocation  to  Him  in  praver 
or  as  an  appeal  to  Him  as  the  Mediator  with  God.  "     ' 

Once  more,  and  above  all,  Reischle  rightly  insists  upon  the 
insurmountable  limits  which  beset  the  religious-historical 
method  in  any  endeavour  to  solve  the  problem  of  the  personal 
religious  life  of  great  religious  personalities.  If  this  is  difficult 
in  the  case  of  Paul,  it  is  still  more  so,  urges  Reischle,  in  the  case 
of  Jesus  (op.  cit.  pp.  42,  43).  J 

10.  But  this  acknowledgment  of  the  marvellous 
personality  of  Jesus  may  not  only  be  seen  in  the 
writings  of  the  Ritschlian  School  and  its  various 
and  variant  members.  We  may  recognize  it— it  is 
not  too  much  to  say— in  German  writers  of  every 
school  and  in  German  works  which  appeal  to  all 
sorts  and  conditions  of  men. 

Amongst  modern  Church  historians  in  Germany  no  name 
stands  more  deservedly  high  than  that  of  von  Dobschiitz.  '  The 
Apolo^st,'  he  tells  us  in  the  concluding  words  of  his  work  on 
Primitive  Li.fe  in  the  Early  Church,  'could  point  triumphantly 
to  the  realization  of  the  moral  ideal  among  Christians  of  every 
standing.  That  was  due  to  the 
Christ,  and  actually  transforme 


against  us?"  "And  this  is  the  victory  which  overcometh  the 
world,  even  our  faith."  .  .  .  Christianity  possessed  what  the 
speculations  of  Neo-Platonism  lacked,  the  sure  historical  basis 
of  Jesus  Christ's  Person.'  But  the  remarks  of  von  Dobschiitz 
are  of  further  interest,  because  he  again  emphasizes  the  im- 
portance to  be  attached  to  the  Person  and  work  of  Jesus,  in  his 
'Relifionsgeschichtliche  Volksbiicher,' 


contribution 

the  course  of  publication  m  Germany.     Here,  1 
the  Apostolic  Age,  and  he  points  c 


he  dwells 


find  Judaism  with  a  strong  addition  of  Messianic  expecta- 
;  Jesus  had  transformed  the  stiff  monotheistic  belief  in 
God  into  a  living  trust  in  God,  and  a  joyous  spirit  of  adop- 
as  God's  children  had  taken  the  place  of  Pharisaic  self- 
satisfaction  and  timorous  fear.5  Or  we  turn  to  another  series 
of  books,  of  a  somewhat  larger  and  more  expensive  kind,  en- 
titled Lebeihifragen,  and  here,  too,  we  meet  with  the  same 
emphatic  testimon.N'.  Thus  Weinel  tells  us  that  the  Hegelian 
philosophy  hindered  Strauss  from  estimating  or  understanding 


with  tradition,  they 

reverence,  for  Jesus 

.         ■  of  salvation  in  the 

gospel  which  He  taught.     And  as  this  image  of  Jesus  in  its 

liWng  reality  and  in  its  purity  is  placed  before  the  eyes  of  men, 

prophesies  that  it  will  win  the  heart  of  humanity  until  all 

■n  are  more  and  more  transformed  into  its  likeness. 

11.  But  then  we  have  to  face  the  remarkable 
fact  that  this  picture  of  the  wondrous  personality 
of  Jesus  is  most  frequently  derived  by  advanced 
critics  from  the  Synoptics  alone.  f'lie  Fourth 
Gospel  is  ruled  out  of  court,  or  at  the  best  reduced 
to  a  testimony  of  secondary  worth.     The  accoimt, 

Heinrici,  Urchrlstentiim,  1902,  p.  38 ;  .K.  Jeremias,  Babylon- 
het  im  NT,  p.  43 :   '  Die  Tatsache  der  Auferstehung  Jesu 
Christ!  ist  in  der  ReUgionsgeschichte  analogielos.' 
t  Im  Namen  Jesu,  1903,  p.  197  ff. 

t  See  on  this  pre-eminence  belonging  to  the  Person  of  Christ 
contrast  to  other  religions,  Fairbaim,  Philosophy  of  Religion, 
pp.  532,  533 ;  and  Soderblom,  Die  Jteligionen  der  Erde.  1905 
-     62-64. 

Das  Apostolitche  Zeitalter,  p.  6. 


CRITICISM 


CEITICISM 


389 


c.ij.,  of  the  raising  of  Lazarus,  if  it  is  no  longer 
treated  after  the  manner  of  Renan  as  a  flagrant 
deception  to  which  Jesus  lent  Himself,  is  regarded 
not  as  historical  but  as  allegorical.*  But  even  in 
what  is  allowed  to  us  of  the  Synoptic  record,  doubt 
is  thrown  upon  our  Lord's  claim  to  judge  the 
world,  or  upon  His  declaration  that  He  would  give 
His  life  as  a  ransom  for  many,  to  say  nothing  of 
the  refusal  to  admit,  as  we  have  already  noted, 
a  large  proportion  of  His  miracles  as  historical. 

In  like  manner  the  significance  of  St.  Paul's 
testimony  to  the  facts  and  teaching  of  the  Gospels, 
as  also  the  significance  of  his  claim  to  work  mir- 
acles in  the  power  which  Christ  bestowed,  is 
minimized,  if  not  disregarded. 

We  thus  owe  this  wonderful  picture  of  a  great 
personality  mainly,  if  not  entirely,  to  documents 
bearing  the  names  of  three  writers  of  whom  we 
are  assured  that  we  know  very  little,  and  whose 
claims  to  be  the  authors  of  the  Ijooks  (in  their 
present  shape  at  all  events)  which  bear  their 
names  must  be  very  largely  and  seriously  dis- 
counted. And  yet  tliese  obscure  writers  have 
given  us  the  picture  of  a  life  and  of  a  teaching  the 
beauty  and  the  excellence  of  which  mankind  has 
never  ceased  to  acknowledge. 

*  Here,'  saj's  a  learned  and  cultured  Jew,  after  allowing  that 
the  Synoptic  Gospels  do  contain  teaching  which  in  comparison 
with  average  Judaism  is  both  valuable  and  original,  both  new 
and  true,  '  we  have  religion  and  morality  joined  together  at  a 
white  heat  of  intensity.  The  teaching  often  glows  with  light 
and  fire.  .  .  .  The  luminous  juxtaposition  of  even  familiar  OT 
doctrines  may  be  novel  and  stimulating.    The  combination  of 


ligious 
of  the 

ts  out  that  there  are  one  or  two  facts 
weaken  the  effect  of  the  best  Rabbinic 


of  'the  first-clai 


buried  in  a  mass  of  greatly  inferior  matter,  so  that  they  are 
difficult  to  unearth.  They  are  not  collected  together  in  a  lovely 
setting,  united  and  illumined  by  the  story  of  a  noble  life.'  He 
"  *  "  ction  of  the  great 
Midrash,  it  must 
be  admitted  that  the  same  'powerful,  driving,  and  emotional 
effect  as  the  sayings  and  teachings  of  the  Gospels '  is  not  pro- 
duced, t 

12.  But  we  note  that  tliis  picture  is  in  many 
respects  entirely  ojiposed  to  current  Jewish  concep- 
tions of  the  day.  ^lo  one  has  emphasized  this  more 
strongly  than  Bousset  in  relation  to  the  Jewish 
anticipations  and  expectations  of  the  Kingdom  of 
God.  He  insists,  indeed,  upon  the  Messianic  con- 
sciousness of  Jesus,  without  which  he  regards  not 
only  the  whole  work  of  Jesus,  but  the  conduct  of 
His  disciples  after  His  death,  as  unintelligible. 
But  if  Jesus  regarded  Himself  as  the  Messiah,  it 
is  evident,  continues  Bousset,  that  He  did  so  in 
a  manner  totally  opposed  to  the  predominant  and 
current  Jewish  expectations.  Spiritual  concep- 
tions of  the  Messiah  were  not  altogether  wanting, 
but  political  hopes  always  occupied  the  central 
place  in  the  picture.  In  the  sense  of  such  hopes 
Jesus  was  not  the  Messiah,  and  would  never  have 
become  so.  He  expected  the  sovereignty  of  God 
and  not  that  of  Israel,  the  victory  of  good  and  the 
judgment  of  evil,  not  the  triump^i  of  the  Jew  and 
the  annihilation  of  the  Roman  ;  He  preached  a 
kingdom  in  which  the  vision  of  God  was  granted 
to  the  pure,  and  as  the  prep.arer  for  and  the  ruler 
in  that  kingdom  He  regarded  Himself.  §  But  the 
Synoptists  no  less  than  St.  John  furnish  us  with 
another  picture  which  was  even  more  decisively 

*  8ee,  e.g.,  the  remarks  of  Loisy,  AuUmr  d'v.n  petit  Here,  1903, 
p.  97  B. ;  and,  on  the  other  h^nd,  Loisv's  fellow-countr^Tnan 
and  religionist  Th.  Calmes,  L'Emngile  s'elnn  Saint  Jean,'  1906, 
pp.  68,  75. 

t  C.  G.  Montefiore,  '  The  Synoptic  Gospels  and  the  Jewish 
Consciousness,'  in  the  Hibbert  Journal,  July  1905,  p.  658. 

t  lb.  p.  652. 

5  See  Bousset's  remarks  in  his  Was  wissen  wir  iion  Jesus  ! 
p.  01. 


opposed  to  the  current  conceptions  of  the  Jewish 
nation,  the  picture  of  a  suftering  Messiah.  It  is 
not  too  much  to  say  that  'the  idea  of  the  Messianic 
suflerings  and  death  is  one  that  wakes  no  echo  in 
the  heart  of  any  Jewish  contemporary  of  our  Lord, 
not  excepting  even  His  disciples.'*  In  short,  the 
words  of  Dalman  are  amply  justified,  '  Suffering 
and  death  for  the  actual  possessor  of  the  Messianic 
dignity  are  in  fact  unimaginable  according  to  the 
testimony  of  the  Gospels '  ( Words  of  Jesus,  p.  265, 
Eng.  tr.). 


Nothing  could  mark  more  strongly  the  contrast 
fish  Messianic  notions  and  the  picture  of  the  M< 


Jewish 


betw 


picture  of  the  Messiah  as 
realized  in  our  Gospels,  than  the  following  passage  from  the 
Jewish  Encyclopedia:  "Jesus'  word  on  the  cross.  "  My  God, 
my  God,  why  hast  thou  forsaken  me  ?  "  was  in  all  its  implications 
itself  a  disproof  of  the  exaggerated  claims  made  for  Him  after 
His  death  by  His  disciples.  The  very  form  of  Hia  punishment 
would  disprove  those  claims  in  Jewish  eyes.  No  Messiah  that 
Jews  could  recognise  could  suffer  such  a  death." '  t 

This  representation  of  a  suffering  Messiah  whidi 
the  Gospels  presented  so  uncompromisingly,  pressed 
hard  for  a  solution  upon  the  famous  founder  of  the 
Tubingen  School : 

'  Never  was  that  which  bore  the  outward  appearance  of  ruin 
and  annihilation  turned  into  such  signal  and  decisive  victory, 
and  so  glorious  a  passage  into  life,  as  in  the  death  of  Jesus.  Up 
to  this  time  there  was  always  a  possibility  that  He  and  the 
people  might  come  to  agree  on  the  ground  of  the  Messianic 
faith  .  .   .  but  His  death  made  a  complete  and  irreparable 


breach  between  Him  and  Judais 
impossible  for  the  Jew,  as  long 
lieve  in  Him  as  the  Messiah.    To 
after  His  dying  such  a  death 
conception 


.  A  death  like  His 
s  he  remained  a  Jew,  to  be- 
elieve  in  Him  as  the  Messiah 
olved  the  removal  from  the 
the  Messiah  of  all  the  Jewish  and  carnal  elements 

which  were  associated  with  it'  {Church  History,  i.  p.  42,  Eng. 

tr.). 

Baur's  solution  of  the  difficulty  forms  one  of 
the  most  curious  pages  in  the  history  of  modern 
criticism.  He  allows  that  nothing  but  the  miracle 
of  the  Resurrection  could  restore  the  faith  of  the 
disciples  after  such  a  death  as  that  of  the  Cross, 
and  yet  he  assures  us  in  the  same  breath  that  the 
question  as  to  the  nature  and  the  reality  of  the 
Resurrection  lies  outside  the  sphere  of  historical 
inquiry.  What  history  requires  is  not  so  much 
the  fact  of  the  Resurrection  of  Jesus,  as  the  belief 
that  it  was  a  fact. 

In  more  recent  utterances  we  seem  to  catch  an 
echo  of  Baur's  words,  and  his  remarks  anticipate 
Harnack's  familiar  distinction  between  the  Easter 
faith  and  the  Easter  message.  The  Easter  faith, 
according  to  Harnack,  is  a  conviction  which  tells 
us  that  the  Crucified  has  achieved  an  inward 
victory  over  death,  and  has  entered  into  eternal 
life.  But  this  so-called  Easter  faith  appears,  not 
unjustly,  to  many  thoughtful  minds  to  do  away 
witli  the  need  of  Easter  altogether.  The  Crucified 
overcame  death  on  Good  Friday,  so  far,  that  is, 
as  an  inward  triumph  was  concerned.  On  Good 
Friday,  and  not  upon  the  third  day,  He  entered 
upon  eternal  life.  And  if  nothing  special  happened 
on  Easter  Day,  there  seems  to  be  little  sense  or 
point  in  talking  about  '  Easter  faith.' J 

But,  further,  this  contrast  between  the  current 
ideas  of  the  Messiah  and  the  Messiahship  of  Jesus 
in  the  Gospels  may  be  illustrated  from  the  succeed- 
ing history  of  the  Jewish  nation  and  from  the  cul- 

♦  Muirhead,  Esrhatnlmiv  of  .lesnn,  1904,  p.  256.  See,  further, 
Fairbairn,  Studies  in  the  Life  of  Christ,  p.  308ff.  ;  J.  Druni- 
mond,  T?ie  Jewish  Messiah,  1877,  pp.  356,  357;  Row,  Jesus  of 
the  Evangelists^,  pp.  140,  213;  Bishop  Gore,  Bampton  Lectures, 
p.  192.  "The  whole  appendix  in  Schiirer's  GJV  ii.  p.  553ff., 
entitled  '  Der  leidende  Messias,'  should  be  consulted. 

t  Professor  Votaw  (Chicago),  '  The  Modern  Jewish  View  or 
Jesus,'  in  the  Biblical  World,  x.xvi.  No.  2  [Aug.  1905],  p.  110. 
The  passage  above  is  cited  from  the  Je^vish  Encyc.  vii.  p.  166 ; 
and  the  present  writer  would  venture  to  refer  forftirther  litera- 
ture to  the  Witness  of  the  Epistles,  pp.  S3,  360. 

!  See  Dr.  Walther'a  valuable  criticism.  Ad.  Harnack's  Wesm 
des  Christentums  fur  die  christliche  Genmnde  gcpriiffi,  190i, 
p.  134;  and  also  Dr.  F.  Blass,  'Science  and  Sophistry '  in  Expos. 
Times,  Oct.  1904. 


CRITICISM 


CRITICISM 


mination  of  tlie  Jewish  hopes  in  the  pretender  Bar 
Cochba  in  the  reign  of  Hadrian.  Tlie  report  was 
circulated  that  the  Messiah  had  at  last  appeared, 
and  fabulous  numbers  are  said  to  have  joined  his 
standard  in  insurrection  against  the  Romans.  We 
know  how  the  struggle  ended  in  terrible  disaster 
to  the  Jews,  although  for  some  few  years  they 
fought  with  all  their  characteristic  stubbornness 
and  desperation.  But  the  chief  actor  in  the  drama, 
Bar  Cochba,  reveals  to  us  only  too  plainly  the 
kind  of  Messiah  whom  the  majority  of  the  Jews 
expected,  and  whom  they  were  prepared  to  wel- 
come :  '  Jesus  ottered  Himself  unresistingly  to 
death ;  the  impostor  died  in  arms  .  .  .  whatever 
Jesus  Christ  was  not,  this  pretender  was.  What- 
ever this  pretender  was,  Jesus  Christ  was  not.'* 
One  feature  in  the  new  Messiah's  career  may  be 
specially  noted,  viz.  the  absence  of  any  attempt 
on  his  part  to  work  miracles,  although  no  doubt 
all  sorts  of  exaggerated  stories  of  strength  and 
power  gathered  round  his  name.t  But  ilf,  as  we 
are  told,  there  was  an  iiTesistible  tendency  to 
attribute  miraculous  powers  to  the  Messiah,  if,  as 
Professor  Percy  Gardner  asserts,  there  was  every 
probability  that  whether  actual  or  not  the  miracles 
would  be  reported,  how  is  it  that  no  such  miracles 
gathered  around  the  name  of  Bar  Cochba  ?  Is  not 
the  only  explanation  to  be  found  in  the  fact  that 
Jesus  of  Nazareth  actually  Avorked  miracles,  while 
the  pretender  worked  none?  J  Nor  must  it  be  for- 
gotten in  this  connexion  that  tlie  Jews  in  early 
times  never  attempted  to  deny  that  our  Lord 
wrought  miracles  ;  on  the  contrary,  they  admitted 
the  miracles,  whilst  they  referred  them  to  Satanic 
arts  or  to  a  knowledge  of  the  sorcery  which  Jesus 
had  brought  with  Him  from  Egypt.  §  In  the  same 
manner  the  modem  Jews  admit  that  our  Lord 
gained  His  notoriety  not  merely  from  His  teach- 
ing but  from  His  miracles,  specially  from  those 
which  He  wrouglit  a'*  a  healer  of  tlie  sick.  '  It 
was  not,'  writes  Dr.  Koliler  in  the  Jewish  Encrjc. 
vii.  p.  167,  'as  the  teacher  of  new  religious  prin- 
ciples nor  as  a  new  lawgiver,  but  as  a  new  won- 
der-worker that  Jesus  won  fame  and  influence 
among  the  simple  inhabitants  of  Galilee  in  his  life- 
time.' II 

13.  But  there  were  other  claims  made  by  our 
Lord,  in  addition  to  the  claim  to  wmU  iiiiiufle's,  and 
of  these  great  and  supernatui.il  •  laim,  it  may  be 
said  that  they  cannot  possibly  Kc  il'.iheil  I'lum  the 
picture  of  the  Messiah  which  luucls  us  in  the  OT. 
Some  words  remarkable  in  their  bearing  upon  this 
subject  were  uttered  by  Dr.  Charles  in  speaking 
before  the  University  of  Oxford  on  '  The  Messiah 
of  the  Old  Testament  and  the  Christ  of  the  New- 
Testament  ' : 


inent  prophecy  of  the  Messiah,  w 
to  judge  the  world  ;  and  next,  to  (orgi\e  pin  ;  and,  finallv.  to  l)e 
the  Lord  of  life  and  death.  In  the  Old  Testament  these  pre- 
rogatives belong  to  God  alone  as  the  essential  Head  of  the 
kingdom,  and  appear  in  those  prophctin  ilescriptioiis  of  the 
kingdom  which  ignore  the  figure  of  the  Messiah,  and  represent 
Ood  as  manifesting  Himself  among  men.  Here,  then,  ue  have 
the  Christ  of  the  Gospels  claiming  not  only  to  fulfil  the  Old 
Testament  prophecies  of  the  various  ideals  of  the  Messiah,  but 
also  to  discharge  the  functions  of  God  Himself  in  relation  to  the 
kingdom. 'H 


109, 


*  Row,  Jfsui  of  the  Ecanqeliitft,  p.  147  ft. 

t  Edersheim.  History  of  the  Jemsh  yation,  p.  200  fT. 

J  See  especially  the  Church  Quarterly  Revieir,  Jan  1904. 

§  Jeaus  Christ  in  the  Talmud  (Luihle),  p.  45  [Eng.  tr  ]. 

II  T?ie  Modem  Jevnsh  View  of  Jetue,  by  Prof.  Votaw.  r 
Chicago  University  Press,  1905. 

*\  Expositor,  6th  series,  v.  [19021  P-  26S.  In  Jewish  apoca- 
lyptic literature,  it  should  be  added,  the  Messiah  is  in  many 
cases  the  agent  of  God  in  the  judgment  which  takes  place  at 
the  beKinniiiK  or  clo<;p  nf  the  Messianic  reign  ;  even  in  the  final 
■.*l>rfsented  as  God's  agent,  and  only  in  the 
■  l'.'>"k  uf  Knoch  does  He  appear  as  the  judge 

:  the  1  i-t  rla\.     We  may  also  contrast  our  Lord's  own  words 

i  to  His  I'arnnsia  « ith  tlie  fantastic  and  grotesque  de8criptions 

:  Jewish  theology. 


judgme 


Nor  can  it  be  said  with  any  justification  that 
these  Di\-ine  prerogatives  are  ascribed  to  our  Lord 
late  in  time,  or  that  they  were  simply  Christian 
accretions.  We  need  look  no  further  than  St. 
Paul's  earliest  Epistle,  1  Thess.,  to  come  across 
statements  which  can  scarcely  mean  anything  less 
than  that  our  Lord  was  associated  as  Judge  with 
God  the  Father  ;  that  He  is  the  medium  of  salva- 
tion, and  that  we  obtain  life  through  His  death ; 
that  the  prayers  of  Christians  are  to  be  addressed 
to  Him  ;  that  whether  we  wake  or  sleep  our  true 
life  is  in  Him  (cf.  1  Th  3'3  5»' '»).  Nor  is  there 
any  reason  to  suppose  that  in  such  statements  to 
the  Thessalonians  St.  Paul  is  putting  forward  a 
conception  of  Christ  which  ditl'ered  from  that  en- 
tertained by  the  rest  of  the  Church  :  *  '  The  Son 
of  God,'  he  writes  to  the  Corinthians,  '  who  was 
preached  among  you  by  us  (not  by  St.  Paul  himself 
alone),  even  by  me  and  Silvanus  and  Timothy, 
was  not  yea  and  nay,  but  in  him  is  yea,'  2  Co  1" 
(cf.  1  Th  1').  Moreover,  in  the  expression  '  the 
Son  of  God '  St.  Paul's  teaching  no  less  than  that 
of  the  Gospels  indicates  a  unique  relationship  be- 
tween the  Father  and  the  Son  ;  cf.  c.r/.  Ro  8°- '-. 
And  if  we  ask  whence  St.  Paul's  conception  was 
derived,  it  seems  not  unreasonable  to  maintain 
that  it  was  derived  from  the  statements  and  the 
teaching  of  our  Lord  Himself. 

There  is  a  famous  passage  contained  in  two  of 
the  SjTioptic  Gospels  which  so  strongly  resembles 
the  phraseology  of  St.  John  that  it  has  been  called, 
and  not  unjustly,  an  aerolite  from  the  Johannine 
heaven  :  '  All  things  have  been  delivered  unto  me 
of  my  Father,  and  none  knoweth  the  Son  save  the 
Father,  neither  doth  any  know  the  Father  save 
the  Son,  and  he  to  whomsoever  the  Son  willeth  to 
reveal  him'  (Mt  11",  Lk  10==).  Dr.  Hamack, 
although  he  does  not  deny  that  Jesus  spoke  these 
words,  weakens  their  force  and  meaning,  and  it  is 
well  to  turn  for  a  criticism  of  his  statements  to 
Dr.  Swete's  remarks  on  '  The  Teaching  of  Christ,' 
Expositor  (6th  Series,  vii.  [1903]  p.  407) : 

*The  knowledge  claimed  is  that  of  a  son,  and  it  rests  upon 
sonship  :  it  is  a  strange  misreading  of  the  words  which  reverses 
this  order,  as  Professor  Harnack  seems  to  do— it  is  not  know- 
ledge which  makes  Christ  "the  Son,"  but  sonship  which 
enables  Him  to  know.  He  declares  that  He  knows  God  as  only 
a  son  can  know  his  father,  and  that  this  knowledge  is  not  a 
possession  which  other  sons  of  God  naturally  share  with  Him, 
but  one  which  belongs  of  right  to  Him  alone,  and  to  others  only 
so  far  as  He  is  pleased  to  impart  it.  This  is  to  claim  not  only 
unique  knowledge,  but  a  unique  Sonship.  It  is  difficult  to  dis- 
cover any  essential  difference  between  this  statement  of  St. 
Matthewand  the  closing  words  of  St.  John's  prologue." 

The  Abb6  Loisy  does  not  allow  that  our  Lord  ever 
spoke  these  words,  but  affinns  that  they  are  derived 
from  some  primitive  Church  tradition ;  and  he 
goes  so  far  as  to  suppose  that  they  were  derived,  in 
part  at  all  events,  from  Sir  51.  t  But  it  is  diffi- 
cult to  believe  that  such  words  could  have  found 
the  place  which  they  occupy  in  two  of  our  Gospels 
unless  they  were  spoken  by  our  Lord.  It  should 
be  remembered  that  they  are  regarded,  not  merely 
by  conservative  but  bv  '  scientihc '  critics,  as  form- 
ing part  of  that  '  collection  of  discourses '  which 
probably  comes  to  us  from  the  Apostle  St.  Matthew. 
Indeed,  Keim  long  ago  affirmed  that  there  is  no 
more  violent  criticism  than  that  vvhii  h  Strauss  had 
introduced,  viz.,  the  repudiation  i.i  i  i  i-sijr  so 
strongly  attested.     Moreover,  Wm-     'I  [m n- 

dences  upon  Sir  51  are  in  reality  ^  i      i        I  ; 

in  some  particulars  the  alleged  lik(  m  -  -  i,  -mli 
as  might  be  found  in  the  utterances  of  any  Jewish 
speakers.     It  may  also  be  noted  that  -while  the 


See,  further.  Dr.  Sanday,  Critici 


Fourth  Gojpe(, 


notable  how  both  St.  Paul  and  St.  James  can  speak  of  Jesus  as 
'  the  Lord  of  the  (Cf.  the  Divine)  glory.' 

f  See  for  a  recent  criticism,  Cambridge  Theological  Essayg, 
1905,  p.  465  ff. 


CEITICISM 


CRITICISM 


391 


points  of  comparison  are  preserved,  the  points  of 
contrast  are  entirely  omitted.  For  example,  Jesus 
the  son  of  Sirach  in  liis  prayer  thanks  God  because 
He  has  hearivened  to  him  and  delivered  him  from 
peril ;  our  Lord  in  His  prayer  thanks  the  Father 
for  revealing  to  babes  that  which  had  been  con- 
cealed from  the  wise  and  prudent.* 

But  it  should  further  be  borne  in  mind  that 
these  statements  in  Mt.  and  Lk.  do  not  stand  alone  ; 
that  the  Gospel  which  is  probably  the  earliest  of 
the  Synoptics  speaks  of  '  the  Father  '  and  of  '  the 
Son '  absolutely,  and  that  the  words  employed  can 
only  be  fairly  explained  as  assigning  to  our  Lord  a 
unique  relationship  to  God  :  '  But  of  that  day  or 
that  hour  knoweth  no  one,  not  even  the  angels  in 
heaven,  neither  the  Son,  but  the  Father '  (iMk  13^-). 
If  such  words  are  suspected,  we  may  fairly  ask 
who  would  have  been  likely  to  introduce  them  ? 
Dr.  Schmiedel,  who  generously  allows  us  to  con- 
struct a  '  scientific '  '  Life  of  Christ '  from  five  say- 
ings and  four  incidents  of  the  Gospels,  does  not 
attempt  to  deny  that  our  Lord  spoke  these  words  ; 
and  although,  of  course,  he  uses  them  for  his  own 
purposes  of  exegesis,  we  may  now  take  it  that 
this  representative  of  the  most  advanced  criticism 
allows  us  to  regard  this  verse  in  St.  Mark's  Gospel 
as  an  utterance  of  our  Lord  Himself,  t  Professor 
N.  Schmidt  refuses  to  accept  even  Mk  13^-,  and 
regards  the  words  in  question,  '  neither  the  Son,' 
as  probably  an  interpolation  (The-  Prophet  of  Naza- 
reth, pp.  147,  231).  Such  words  presuppose,  he 
thinks,  such  a  doctrine  of  subordination  as  was 
cherished  in  the  Church  of  the  second  century. 
But  has  he  forgotten  the  doctrine  of  subordination 
in  1  Co  15^,  a  passage  which  even  he  dares  not 
refuse  to  St.  Paul  ? 

In  addition  to  Dr.  Swete's  remarks,  to  which  reference  has 
been  made  above,  we  may  cite  the  following  passage,  as  bearing 
closely  on  our  subject,  from  the  Dean  of  Westminster's  Study 
o/  thu  Gospels,  p.  109:  "Observe  that  the  titles  "the  Father" 
and  "the  Son"  are  used  absolutely  (i.e.  in  Mt.  and  Lk.  loc.  cit.). 
We  are  familiar  with  this  use  from  St.  .John's  Gospel.  But  it 
occurs  but  once  again  in  the  Synoptic  Gospels,  Mark  xiii.  3'2.  .  .  . 
It  is  an  important  fact  to  be  borne  in  m"  '  ' 
the  Christology  of  John's  Gospel,  that 
speech  is  attested  once  for  St.  Mark  and 
Markan  document.  We  could  hardly  ha 
from  the  historical  point  of  view,  tliat  c 
thus  speak  of  Himself  absolutely  as  " 
necessary  to  explain  how  unique  is  the  claim  which  is  put 
forward  by  this  language.'  t 

Professor  N.  Schmidt,  indeed,  has  boldly  argued 
against  this  uniqueness  in  His  relation  to  the 
Father  which  our  Lord  claims,  by  asserting  that 
He  always  availed  Himself  of  the  general  expres- 
sion '  Abba,  Father,'  and  that  the  variants  '  my 
Father '  and  '  your  Father '  were  introduced  by  the 
Greek  Evangelists.§  But,  as  M.  Lepin  has  pointed 
out  in  his  valuable  book,  it  is  to  be  noted  that  a 
distinguished  Aramaic  scholar.  Dr.  Dalman,  does 
not  hesitate  to  affirm,  in  contradistinction  to  the 

*  Cf.  Lepin, 


Lord  Hii 


,  Appendix,  on  the  Abb6  Loisy's  positic 


'-  Tneologic< 
.  art.  '  Son 


Fairbaim,  op.  cit.  p.  476 ;  Headiam,  Critical  Qmstimis, 

191;  Cambridge  •     ■     •-  

§  Encyc.  Bibl. 


gical  Essays,  1906,  p.  431 

'  1  of  God,'  iv.  4696.  This  is  one  of  the 
nful  articles  in  the  whole  of  the  four  volumes,  and  we 
cannot  be  surprised  that  Professor  Schmidt  throws  doubt  upon 
our  Lord's  exact  words,  when  at  this  time  of  day  he  can  throw 
doubt,  as  in  this  same  article,  upon  St.  Paul's  authorship  of 
1  Thessalonians.  More  recently  Professor  Schmidt  has  repeated 
these  arguments,  and  he  appears  to  regard  Mt  1125,  Lk  lO^i  as 
casting  an  undeserved  reflexion  upon  the  character  of  Jesus ! 
{The  Prophet  of  Nazareth,  p.  162).  On  Schmidt's  denial  that  our 
Lord  ever  called  Himself  the  Son  of  .Man  see  Stalker's  Chris- 
tology of  Jesus,  p.  72,  and  Muirhead's  Eschatology  of  Jesus,  p. 
148).  If  the  Gospels  were  written  as  late  as  Schmidt  believes, 
It  IS  certain  that  the  introduction  into  all  of  them  of  such  a  title 
as  the  Son  of  Man  '  would  have  been  regarded  with  the  gravest 
suspicion,  and  would  have  failed  to  gain  acceptance  in  Chris- 
tian circles  where  our  Lord's  Godhead  was  fully  recognized. 


assertions  of  Dr.  Schmidt,  that  the  unique  position 
assumed  by  Jesus  follows  from  the  invariable 
separation  which  He  makes  between  '  my  Father ' 
and  '  your  Father '  ( Words  of  Jesus,  p.  281  [Eng. 
tr.]);  and  a  few  pages  later  Dr.  Dalman  writes: 
■  Nowhere  do  we  find  that  Jesus  called  Himself 


the  Son  of  God  in  such  a  sense 


uggest 


relation  which  others  also  actually  possessed, 
which  they  were  capable  of  attaining  or  destined 
to  acquire    (\>.  287).* 

H.  We  must  remember,  too,  that  not  only  do  a 
great  number  of  English  and  German  writers  of 
note  acknowledge  the  closeness  of  St.  Paul's  ac- 
quaintance with  our  Lord's  life  and  teaching,!  but 
that  this  testimony  of  St.  Paul  is  materially  and 
increasingly  strengthened  by  the  large  number  of 
Epistles  which  are  now  almost  universally  ac- 
knowledged to  have  been  from  his  pen.  Some 
sixty  years  ago  (1845),  F.  C.  Baur,  the  founder  of 
the  Tiibingen  School,  published  his  'Life'  of  St. 
Paul,  and  accepted  only  four  of  the  Apostle's 
letters,  in  which  he  believed  that  he  could  discover 
the  notes  of  a  fundamental  diflerence  between 
Paul  and  the  T\\elve  ;  to-day  at  least  double  that 
number  of  the  Epistles  which  bear  St.  Paul's 
name  is  accepted  by  nearly  all  critics  alike.  It 
would  be  easy  to  point  in  proof  of  this  to  Dr.  C. 
Clemen's  statements  in  his  recent  Life  and  Work 
of  St.  Paid  (see  i.  pp.  6-162).  We  must  not  forget 
that  Professor  Sclmiidt  is  prepared  to  accept  only 
the  Havptbriefe  and  Philippians,  and  that  he  regards 
even  the  former  as  having  suftered  insertions  ;  thus, 
1  Co  IS'*-"  is  a  later  insertion  (The  Prophet  of 
Nazareth,  pp.  193,  200,  397).  Colossians  and  even 
Philemon  are  rejected  ;  and  we  are  tciid,  in  the  only 
reference  to  Bishop  Lightfoot  in  tlii.'  vdluiiio,  that  his 
is  the  ablest  defence  of  these  two  Epistlfs,  Ijut  that 
it  fails  to  do  full  justice  to  the  counter  arguments  (p. 
194).  It  is  not  surprising  after  this  that  Professor 
Schmidt,  following  on  the  lines  of  Van  Manen, 
rejects  all  the  Epistles  of  St.  Ignatius,  and  that  he 
makes  no  reference  to  their  acceptance  by  Light- 
foot,  Harnack,  Zahn. 

If  we  turn  for  a  moment  to  the  little  books 
of  a  popular  kind  which  arc  in  course  of  publica- 
tion in  Germany,  at  the  price  of  a  few  pence  each, 
we  find  that  to  Professor  Vischer  of  Basle  (known 
to  us  in  England  first  of  all  through  Dr.  Harnack) 
is  committed  the  volume  which  treats  of  the 
Epistles  of  St.  Paul.  Vischer  accepts  all  the 
Epistles,  nine  in  number,  which  are  accepted  bj- 
Dr.  Clemen;  and  even  when  he  comes  to  deal 
with  Ephesians  (which  Clemen  rejects),  he  frankly 
acknowledges,  with  Erich  lliiuj.t  in  the  latest 
edition  of  Meyer's  Coiiiiii.iiiMiy,  that  the  alleged 
objections  are  by  no  lucaiis  (li(i-i\  r,  and  that  more 
is  to  be  .said  for  St.  Paul's  aiitlmrsliip  than  against 
it.  In  cases,  moreover,  in  which  the  traditional 
structure  of  the  Epistles  is  questioned,  as  in  2  Cor., 
it  is  frankly  allowed  that  the  separate  letter 
alleged  to  be  found  in  chs.  10-13  is,  no  less  than 
the  rest  of  the  Epistle,  the  work  of  St.  Paul ;  and 
even  in  the  case  of  the  Pastoral  Epistles,  the 
existence  of  genuine  Pauline  fragments  is  con 
stantly  maintdined  (see,  fuithei  von  Soden  s  Ui 
christluhc  Ltteiaturgeschichto,  1905,  ^p  28   162) 

*  See  also  Lep  n  J  !,is  Vessie  et  F  h  le  T)  ei  1 1  "9  300 
2nded    1906 

t  See  eg    Zahn  F  nleitunn  li   1  cs  to 

(1)  the  historv   (  )  the  words  of  T  j,th 

J.  Weiss    Das   niteite   Evana  I  \     nel 

Paidiii   1904  p     46  ff     P   W    s  1  rmi 

1904,  II    pp    6      6b      Bacon     Slo  'ic, 

Fairbaim    rhe  Phxl  io%ky  ot  tie  i  I 
Chase  CredbiMi     f  the  A  '    "' "      1;  1 

Kennedj     St  Puis  C    t    jt  I  I 

Headiam    Cr  t  tal  Qt  c  t  o  u    110     i     1 

writer  would  \ei  ture  to  refer  to  th     1    tl  11     I     t 

inony  of  bt   Pai  I  to  Cht  ut 


CRITICISM 


CRITICISM 


'  tjie  testimony  to  our  blessed  Lord's  life  and  work  is 
so  much  more  nearly  contemporary  with  the  events 
recorded  than  can  often  be  shown  to  be  the  case  in 
the  Old  Testament,  and  also  so  much  more  varied 
and  abundant,  that  by  an  elementary  principle  of 
historical  criticism  it  is  of  proportionately  higher 
value.'  *  This  claim  to  be  so  nearly  contemporary 
with  the  events  of  the  Gospels  may  fairly  be  made 
for  the  testimony  of  St.  Paul ;  and  even  if  Dr. 
Zahn  is  right  in  refusing  to  follow  the  recent  trend 
of  criticism,  which  places  the  Apostle's  conversion 
within  a  year  or  two  of  our  Lord's  death,  it  is 
certain  that  St.  Paul  must  have  been  acquainted, 
at  a  very  early  date,  with  those  wlio  had  known 
the  Christ,  and  who  had  recognized  and  felt  His 
power  (Gal  1'^  ■',  Ro  16').  Professor  Schmidt  has 
lately  argued  {The  Prophet  of  Nazareth,  p.  157) 
that  as  the  distance  of  time  increased  between 
Jesus  and  the  later  Pauline  literature,  the  term 
Son  of  God  assumed  more  and  more  a  metaphysical 
significance.  But  Professor  Schmidt  accepts  Pliilip- 
pians  as  undoubtedly  the  work  of  St.  Paul.  How 
then  does  he  deal  with  the  great  Christologioal  pas- 
sage, Ph  2^"^-  ?  We  are  simply  informed  that  this 
passage  may  easily  be  an  interpolation  (p.  195  f.). 

It  seems  to  the  present  writer  quite  beside  the 
mark  to  maintain  that,  in  investigating  the  facts 
and  beliefs  which  lie  between  A.D.  30-45,  we  have  no 
contemporary  documents,  that,  in  fact,  none  e.xist, 
and  that  our  only  guide  is  inference  based  on 
later  wTitings  and  developments.!  We  have  al- 
ready seen  the  inferences  to  be  derived  from  tlie 
statements  in  one  of  St.  Paul's  earliest  and  prac- 
tically undoubted  Epistles,  1  Th.,  and  that  these 
inferences  of  necessity  presuppose  a  preaching  and 
teaching  considerably  anterior  in  time  to  the  actual 
date  of  the  Epistle  mentioned. 

Moreover,  we  may  well  ask,  AVhat  is  meant  by 
the  word  'contemporary'?  General  Gordon  was 
murdered  in  the  Sudan  in  1884.  If  a  man  wrote 
an  account  to-day  of  the  closing  years  of  Gordon's 
life,  we  .should  scarcely  refuse  to  give  it  the  title  of 
a  contemporary  record.  J  But  we  are  separated 
from  the  death  of  Gordon  by  a  longer  period  of 
time  than  that  which  elapsed  between  the  conver- 
sion of  St.  Paul  and  his  earliest  written  Ir^timony 
to  the  belief  and  practice  of  tlic  luimiiivc  ( ■liurch.§ 
16.  But,  further,  in  any  atteni|. I  tc.c^iiin.ite,  how- 
ever briefly,  the  bearings  of  ino.irni  irituisin,  it 
must  not  "be  forgotten  that  the  Gospels  are  now 
placed  at  a  much  earlier  date  than  formerly.  || 
*  The  Higher  Criticism,  1905,  pp.  ix  and  32  ;  cf,  also  and  esp. 
Dr.  Driver's  remarks  in  his  LOT''  p.  xi,  wlicre  the  same  point 
is  more  fully  elaborated:  'Viewed  in  the  light  of  the  unique 
personality  of  Christ,  as  depicted  both  in  the  common  tradi- 
tion embodied  in  the  Synoptic  Gospels  and  in  the  personal 
reminiscences  underlying  the  Fourth  Gospel,  and  also  as  pre- 
supposed  by  the  united  testimony  of  the  Apostolic  writers 
belonging  almost  to  the  same  generation,  the  circumstances  are 
such  as  to  forbid  the  supposition  that  the  facts  of  our  Lor<is 
life  on  which  the  fundamental  truths  of  Christianity  depend 
can  have  been  the  growth  of  mere  tradition,  or  are  "anything 
else  than  strictly  historical.  The  same  canon  of  historical  criti- 
cism which  authorizes  the  assumption  of  tradition  in  the  OT 
forbids  it— except  within  the  narrowest  limits,  as  in  some  of  the 
divergences  apparent  between  the  parallel  narrati\e8  of  the 
Gospels— in  the  case  of  the  NT.' 

t  This  is  apparently  maintained  by  Dr.  Moffatt,  Historical 
JVT2,  p.  66. 

X  Prebendary  Sadler  (The  Lost  Gospel,  p.  196),  writing  in  18T6, 
well  asks  if  we  should  refuse  to  describe  an  account  of  the 
Crimean  War  (1854-1855)  as  a  contemporary-  historv. 

5  In  this  connexion  we  may  recall  Kenan's  words,  'Jesus  is 
known  to  us  by  at  least  one  contemporary  piece  of  evidence, 
that  of  St.  Paul'  (ffisfutre  du  Peuple  dltra'eli,  ISST,  i.  p.  xviii). 
II  An  excellent  summary  of  data  bearing  out  this  in  connexion 
with  prominent  critics  Is  given  by  Lepin,  op.  cil.  p.  xxxi.  Cf. 
also  Deissmann,  '  Evangelium  und  Urchristentum,'  in  B'-itrhje 
zur  WeiterentwicUung  der  Chrisllirhen  Keliijimi,  19U5  ;  and  also 
Harnack,  Chron.  i.  pp.  654,  655.  In  this  first  volume  Dr.  Har- 
nack  (1897)  places  the  .Synoptic  Gospels  well  within  the  1st 
century,  and  A.D.  110  is  assigned  as  the  furthest  limit  for  the 
Gosi^el  of  St.  John  with  the  Epistles  of  St.  John  and  the  .Apoca- 
lypse.   In  this  and  in  other  respects  great  jubilation  was  raised 


Strauss  long  ago  maintained  that  the  Gospel  story 
would  be  impregnable  if  it  was  certain  that  it  was 
written  by  eye-witnesses,  or  at  all  events  by  men 
who  lived  close  to  tlie  events.  And  this  hypothesis 
of  Strauss  has  at  least  been  verified  to  this  extent 
in  our  day,  by  the  acknowledgment  that  all  three 
of  the  Synoptics  rest  in  no  small  degree  upon 
genuinely  Apostolic  sources.  Even  Jiilicher,  wlio 
places  our  First  Gospel  at  tlie  year  100  or  there- 
abouts, admits  that  the  writer  used  our  Second 
Gospel  and  a  collection  of  Lor/ia  made  by  St. 
Matthew  ;  and  in  this  Second  Gospel  he  sees  the 
work  of  John  Mark,  founded  on  reminiscences  of 
the  Petrine  circle.  And  if,  as  is  generally  ad- 
mitted, the  writer  of  our  Third  Gospel  employed 
Mark  and  the  Matthtean  Logia  among  his  chief 
means  of  information,  he,  too,  must  have  based  a 
great  part  of  his  work  upon  two  Apostolic  sources.* 

The  force  of  St.  Paul  s  contemporary  testimony 
we  have  already  noted,  and  we  are  now  able  to 
point  in  addition  to  the  Apostolic  sources  under- 
lying our  Gospels.  And  thus  we  have  a  twofold 
guarantee  against  the  alleged  process  of  idealiza- 
tion which  magnified  by  degrees  the  deeds  and 
sayings  of  Jesus,  a  theory  which,  as  M.  Lepin 
observes,  is  urged  by  writers  in  many  respects  so 
far  removed  from  each  other  as  Sclimiedel  and 
Loisy.t 

17.  And  if  modern  criticism  has  strengthened  the 
external  evidence  for  the  early  date  of  our  Gospels, 
may  we  not  say  that  it  has  strengthened  the  in- 
ternal evidence  also  ?  If  we  turn,  for  example,  to 
the  Gospel  of  St.  John,  we  find  a  remarkable 
testimony  in  Furrer's  well-known  Leben  Jes^i 
Christi  (1905),  a  testimony  the  force  of  which  is 
increased  when  we  remember  the  writer's  close  ac- 
quaintance with  the  geography  of  the  Holy  Land. 
Thus  Furrer  speaks  of  the  definite  and  exact 
geographical  notices  which  are  scattered  up  and 
down  the  pages  of  the  Fourth  Gospel,  many  of 
which  we  know  only  through  the  author  of  the 
Ixiok,  and  which  correspond  so  thoroughly  to  the 
actual  conditions.^:  The  narrator  must  thus  have 
been  a  man  who  was  acquainted  with  the  home  of 
Jesus  by  his  own  personal  observation,  so  that  we 
have  the  feeling  that  we  are  al)le  to  realize  the 
scenes  as  it  were  with  our  own  bodily  eyes.  If  we 
consider  the  picture  drawn  by  the  SjTioptists,  we 
are  again  struck  with  its  vivid  reality,  its  trutlifnl 
correspondence  to  the  conditions,  social  and  poli- 
tical, of  the  country,  its  acquaintance  with  the 
religious  parties  of  the  Jews  and  the  Messianic 
hopes  of  the  people,  >vith  its  curious  mixture  of 
a  foreign  civilization  and  government  with  the 
hereditary  customs  and  judicial  procedure  of  the 
Jews.  But  the  picture  thus  presented  to  us  could 
not  have  been  dra^\■n  except  by  the  hands  of  men 
contemporary  with  the  events  whicli  they  purport 

at  Dr.  Harnack's  consen'atism  ;  but  he  soon  made  it  clear  that 
the  acceptance  of  the  date  or  the  authorship  of  a  book  by  no 
means  involves  the  acceptance  of  its  contents.  Hiihn's  series 
of  'Helps  to  the  Understanding  of  the  Bible,'  which  has  had  a 
large  circulation  in  Germany,  is  not  very  satisfactory  in  relation 
to  the  Gospels.  Hiihn,  however,  admits  that  the  '  Logia '  which 
were  used  bv  Matthew,  if  not  composed  h\  him,  date  before 
A.D.  70.  Of  the  author  of  the  Gospel  of  Mark  he  holds  that 
nothing  definite  can  he  known  ;  but  at  the  same  time  he  speaks 
of  Matthew  as  composed  after  70,  and  of  Mark  as  being  of  an 
earlier  date.  Luke  is  the  latest  of  the  three,  and,  like  so  many 
advanced  critics,  Hiihn  places  Luke  after  70  on  the  ground  of 
212124.  But  it  does  not  increase  our  confidence  in  Hiihn's 
researches  when  he  places  St.  John's  Gospel  at  135-140,  and 
gives  as  one  of  his  chief  reasons  the  passage  Jn  5*3,  in  which 
he  sees  a  reference  to  Bar  Cochba  (a.d.  132),  who  came  '  in  his 
own  name,'  and  was  recognized  as  the  Messiah  of  the  Jews  (Das 
Xeue  Testament,  1904,  p.  13  ff.).  In  answer  to  Huhn's  inference 
from  Lk  2121  see  Blass,  Philology  of  the  Gospels,  1898,  p.  41. 

"  See  Biblical  World  (Chicago),  December  1895,  art.  'Sources 
of  the  Life  of  Christ,'  by  Professor  Burton  ;  and  the  Church 
Quarterly  Reoiew,  January  1905,  art.  'The  Synoptic  Gospels 
and  Recent  Literature,'  pp.  416,  417. 


CEITICISM 


CEITICISM 


393 


to  describe.  It  Mould  have  been  impossible  after  the 
fall  of  Jerusalem  in  A.D.  70  and  the  entire  boule- 
versevient  which  that  catastrophe  caused,  to  re- 
create, as  it  were,  the  conditions  which  prevailed 
socially,  politically,  religiously  before  that  capital 
event.*  This  impression  of  truthfulness  which  the 
contents  of  our  Gospels  cannot  fail  to  make,  is  wit- 
nessed to  even  in  quarters  in  which  we  might  not 
altogether  expect  it.  Thus  Jiilicher  speaks  of  our 
Gospels  as  of  priceless  value  as  authorities  for  the 
history  of  Jesus ;  and  even  if  much  of  their  data 
may  be  uncertain,  Jiilicher  nevertheless  maintains 
that  '  the  impression  of  the  Saviour  which  they 
leave  on  the  reader's  mind  is  a  faithful  one  ;  if  the 
total  picture  of  Jesus  which  we  obtain  from  the 
Synoptics  displays  all  the  magic  of  reality,  this  .  .  . 
is  owing  to  the  fact  that  they  .  .  .  painted  Jesus 
as  they  found  Him  already  existing  in  the  Christian 
communities,  and  that  their  model  corresponded  in 
all  essentials  to  the  original. 't 

18.  In  concluding  this  article,  it  will  not  be  un- 
fitting, especiallyin  a  Dictionary  devoted  to  the  sub- 
ject of  '  Christ  and  the  Gospels,'  to  emphasize  once 
again  the  importance  attached  to  the  Person  of  Christ 
in  the  current  literature  of  to-day.  It  would  be  easy 
to  refer  in  this  connexion  to  the  statements  made 
by  representative  writers  in  England  .and  America. 
We  turn,  e.g.,  to  Professor  Nash's  History  of  the 
Higher  Criticism,  and  we  find  him  speaking  (p.  25) 
of  '  that  Christ  who  is  humanity's  Amen  to  all  the 
Divine  promises ' ;  or  to  Dr.  P.  Gardner's  Historic 
View  of  the  NT,  and  we  find  him  maintaining 
(pp.  88-91)  that  the  founder  of  Christianity  stands 
above  all  other  religious  teachers.  J  Even  Professor 
Schmidt  can  speak  again  and  again  of  the  wonder- 
ful personality  of  Jesus :  '  While  other  teachers  may 
and  will  do  much  for  our  modern  world,  the  heal- 
ing, purging,  elevating  influence  of  Jesus  is  of 
priceless  value.  No  man  can  come  into  contact 
with  him  without  feeling  that  life  goes  out  of  him ' 
{The  Prophet  of  Nazareth,  p.  360). 

At  the  Liverpool  Church  Congress,  1904,  one  of 
the  speakers  on  NT  criticism,  Professor  F.  C. 
Burkitt,  remarked  at  the  close  of  his  speech  that 
the  only  time  when  .Christians  would  have  cause 
to  be  afraid  was  when  the  far  oft'  figure  of  Jesus 
Christ  no  longer  attracted  the  critic  and  the  stu- 
dent, but  that  there  was  no  evidence  that  that  day 
was  within  sight.  The  last  statement  finds  ample 
corroboration  in  the  English  and  German  litera- 
ture of  to-day.  §  We  may  look  again  at  the  little 
series  of  popular  books  to  which  reference  has  been 
made  as  in  progress  of  publication  for  the  Gemian 
people.  One  of  them  is  entitled  Die  Quellen  des 
Lebens  Jesu,  by  Professor  Wernle  of  Basle,  whose 
name  is  widely  known  in  England  for  his  works  on 
the  Gospels  and  the  Beginnings  of  the  Christian 
Religion.  Here  again  we  find  this  same  primary 
importance  attached  to  the  Life  and  Person  of 
Jesus,  in  spite  of  so  much  which  betrays  impa- 
tience of  any  definite  dogmatic  teaching.     What- 


•  Swete,  Critical  Questioiis,  pp.  47,  48  ;  and  Lepin,  op.  cit. 
pp.  xxi-xxx. 

t  See  Church  Quarterly  Review,  I.e.  p.  411 ;  and  also  Jiilicher, 
Eiiileitung  in  das  NT^,  p.  294. 

{  In  a  noteworthy  passage  {op.  cit.  p.  lOn)  the  same  writer 
says,  after  referring  to  the  fact  that  Jesus  does  not  use  the 
phrase  '  Our  Father  in  hea\en  '  as  including  both  Himself  and 
His  disciples  :  '  It  would  not  show  a'want  of  the  critical  spirit  to 
go  further  than  this,  and  to  maintain  with  Professor  Harnacli 
that  Jesus  assigned  a  special  significance  to  His  death  in  rela- 
te the  forgiveness  of__sins,  claimed  an  unique  dignity 


appointing  to  read  the  next  paragraph  ;  '  Yet  I  cannot  persuade 
myself  that  on  strictly  historical  grounds  these  statements  could 
be  definitely  established." 

§  See,  e.<i.,  Fairbairn,  Christ  in  Modern  Thenlorjy,  pp.  18,  21 ; 
and  Sir  Oliver  Lodge  in  Uibberl  Journal,  Apr.  1906,  p.  644, 
where  he  'accepts  the  general  consensus  of  Christendom  as 
lestifyuig  to  the  essentially  Divine  character  of  Christ.' 


ever  else,  in  Wernle's  view,  we  may  learn  from 
St.  Paul,  we  may  at  all  events  learn  this,  that  in 
Jesus,  notwithstanding  the  fact  that  He  died  a 
death  of  shame  on  the  cross,  St.  Paul  saw  his 
own  life  and  that  of  the  world  divided,  as  it 
were,  into  two  parts — with  Jesus,  without  Jesus. 
In  Jesus  we  behold  a  man  who  helps  us  to  under- 
stand aright  ourselves,  the  world,  and  God ;  who 
accompanies  us  as  the  truest  friend  and  guide  in 
the  needs  and  struggles  of  the  present,  and  to 
whom  we  can  entrust  ourselves  witli  all  confidence 
for  the  future.  In  the  same  series  Professor 
Pfleiderer,  who  discusses  the  preparation  for  Chris- 
tianity, finds  in  the  sentence,  '  The  Word  was 
made  flesh,'  the  dividing  line  between  the  many 
and  varied  speculations  of  philosophy  and  the  full 
and  actual  manifestation  of  the  Divine  Logos  in 
the  life  of  the  Son  of  God  ( Vorbereitimg  des  Chris- 
tentums  in  der  Griechischen  Philosophie,  p.  66). 
Another  writer,  Dr.  Bousset,  to  whom  reference 
has  been  made,  and  who  is  also  well  known  to 
English  readers,  expresses  himself  in  the  little 
book  Was  ivissen  tvir  von  Jesus  ? ,  which  H.  Holtz- 
mann  recommends  as  the  best  guide-book  for  the 
German  laity,  in  almost  rapturous  language  : 

'Gradually  there  rises  before  us  a  Form  in  which  the  soul 
rejoices,  the  Form  of  the  great  liberator,  the  mighty  opponent 
of  all  forms  of  Pharisaism,  and  at  all  times  the  great  upholder  of 
simplicity  in  religion.  And  more  even  than  this :  there  stands 
before  us  the  Form  of  Jesus  the  friend  of  sinners,  the  preacher 
of  the  forgiveness  of  sins,  who  in  all  the  greatness  of  His  own 
moral  strength  condescends  with  all  the  tenderness  of  a  woman 
to  the  lost  and  the  outcast,  the  Form  of  One  who,  conscious  of 
victorj-,  could  unite  His  disciples  to  Himself  by  an  everlasting 
bond  when  the  last  sad  night  of  His  earthly  life  had  come  and 
death  stood  before  His  eyes.' 

In  this  Personality  Bousset  finds  the  true  origin 
of  Christianity.  Other  factors  no  doubt  contri- 
buted, but  there  was  one  factor  above  and  beyond 
them  all,  the  Person  of  Jesus.  Jewish  Messianic 
hopes,  Greek  philosophy,  the  social  conditions  of 
the  Roman  Empire,  the  organization  and  the  spirit 
of  the  religious  social  clubs  and  of  the  mysteries, 
all  these  contributed.  One  by  one,  in  a  few  graphic 
pages,  Bousset  passes  them  in  review,  and  show,s 
how  each  of  them  was  insufficient  alone,  because 
each  of  them  wanted  the  distinctive  power  which 
made  Christianity  all-sufficient  and  all-victorious, 
the  power  of  a  life-giving  Personality,  the  possessor 
and  the  bestower  of  new  spiritual  agencies,  the 
bringer  of  life  out  of  death.  In  words  of  almost 
evangelical  fervour  Bousset  proclaims  the  presence 
in  history  of  this  unique  personal  power.  None  can 
doubt  the  power  of  personality  in  the  religious  life, 
and  all  religions  which  occupy  the  foremost  place 
in  the  world  testify  to  this  in  some  measure  more 
or  less.* 

In  face  of  such  acknowledgments,  we  cease  to 
wonder  that  von  Soden  in  his  recent  Die  wich- 
figsfen  Fragen  im  Leben  Jesu,  1904,  devotes  so 
much  of  his  book  to  a  consideration  of  the 
Personality  of  Jesus  (p.  82  ft'.).  Amongst  other 
matters  of  varied  interest,  he  points  out  that  there 
is  no  evidence  that  Jesus  was  influenced  in  any 
direct  manner  by  Buddha  or  Plato,  or  by  Philo 
and  his  predecessors  (p.  108).  He  was  the  child  of 
His  people  and  country.  He  knew  no  foreign  litera- 
ture (p.  109),  He  was  far  removed  from  any  asso- 
ciation witli  the  hard  and  gloomy  character  of 
Pharisaic  piety,  but  at  the  same  time  His  life  was 
in  harmony  ^^^tll  all  that  was  best  in  the  Jewish  and 


*  This  insistence  upon  the  importance  of  the  personal  in- 
fluence is  again  notablv  marked  m  one  of  the  most  recent  of 
popular  •  Lives  ■  of  Jesu's  by  Dr.  Furrer  of  Ziirich.  See.  e.g.,  the 
closing  page  of  his  Lebcn  Jesu,  1905,  p.  261,  in  which,  after 
insisting  upon  regarding  Jesus  as  man,  he  ends,  as  he  himself 
expresses  it,  with  the  confession  of  the  centurion,  '  This  man 
was  the  Son  of  God.'  Furrer's  treatment  of  liis  theme  is  marked 
by  reverence  and  sympathy,  and  he  rightly  points  out  that, 
until  the  heart  is  in  sympathy,  no  justice  can  be  done  to  the 
holiest  portraiture  of  humanity  (,Vorwort,  p.  v). 


CROSS 


Greek  types  of  humanity,  and  von  Soden  concludes 
his  hook  (p.  Ill)  hy  saying  that  this  Personality 
which  was  beyond  the  invention  of  the  Evangelists, 
and  which  is  presented  to  us  in  a  picture  which 
knows  no  flaw,  is  an  irrefutable,  integral  fact,  and 
the  wonder  of  wonders  in  the  world's  history  rich 
in  wonders.  (See,  further,  the  same  writer's  Ur- 
christliche  Literatnrgcschichte,  p.  5). 

Once  more ;  we  turn  to  H.  Wendt,  another 
German  well  known  in  England,  not  only  by 
his  works  on  the  Teaching  of  Jesus  and  the 
Gospel  of  St.  John,  but  by  two  lectures  delivered 
in  this  country  in  1904.  He  speaks  of  the  signi- 
ficance of  Jesus  in  revelation  (The  Idea  and 
Reality  of  Revelation,  p.  28  ft'.).  Jesus  is  for  him 
the  highest  revelation  of  God,  although  not  the 
only  one.*  At  the  foundation  of  all  the  forms  of 
Cliristianity  there  is  a  reverence  for  Jesus  Christ 
as  Saviour  and  Mediator.  And  Wendt  concludes 
by  assuring  us  that  a  large  number  of  the  German 
theologians  of  to-day  aspire  to  lead  Christianity 
back  to  its  original  form,  to  the  simplicity  and 
sublimity  of  the  primitive  teaching  of  Jesus  (p. 
91).  There  is  much  in  such  acknowledgments 
which  carries  us  back  to  the  confession  of  A. 
Reville.  For  him  '  Jesus  is  supremely  great,'  and 
he  adds,  '  Let  us  fear  nothing  as  to  the  glory  of  the 
Son  of  Man.  We  owe  it  to  Him,  to  the  Divine 
ideal  dwelling  within  Him,  that  we  know  ourselves 
to  be  the  children  of  God  ;  it  is  in  His  pure  heart 
that  love  between  God  and  man  has  been  realized, 
and  in  this  He  possesses  a  croAvn  which  none  can 
ever  take  from  Him  '  (History  of  the  Doctrine  of  the 
Deity  of  Je.ftis  Christ,  Eng.  tr.  p.  164). 

In  such  utterances  as  these,  which  might  be 
easily  multiplied,  although  they  fall  very  far  short 
of  the  language  of  the  Church  and  the  Creeds, 
we  mark  how  tlie  interest  of  thoughtful  minds  in 
Germany,  America,  France,  England  is  centred 
in  the  Person  of  Christ,  and  how  also  many  of 
these  writers  whom  we  have  mentioned  admit  that 
there  was  a  relationship  between  Jesus  and  the 
Father  so  intimate  as  to  be,  if  not  metaphysical, 
yet  at  all  events  unique,  and  that  this  is  conceded 
by  critics  who  would  depreciate  St.  Luke's  opening 
narrative  of  the  Gospel  histonr  or  St.  Peter  s  con- 
fession at  Csesarea  Philippi  (Mt  16'"). 

And  as  we  listen  to  such  utterances,  sometimes 
full  of  hoiie  and  confidence,  sometimes  full  of 
pathos  and  tender  religious  feeling,  we  are  con- 
scious that  the  old  question,  'Lord,  to  whom  shall 
we  go? 'has  not  lost  its  interest  for  tlie  world  or 
for  ourselves,  and  we  thankfully  recognize  the 
acknowledgment  rendered  even  by  the  spirit  of 
criticism  and  inquiry,  as  it  searches  into  the  will 
and  the  teaching  of  Him  who  alone  is  tlie  Revealer 
of  the  Father,  'Thou  hast  the  words  of  eternal 
life.' 

LiTERATBRE.— Lichtenberger,  Ilist.  nf  („■;•„,.  77/.,^  /»  i:iili 
Cent.,  Eng.  tr.;  MUl,  Mythical  Intn-r''''"i'"n  .,(  (/»  '.„  7»v  ; 
Pfleiderer,  Development  of  Thcobufii,  i.^rmmn/  <!/i'l  ny.ut 
Britain;  J.  E.  Carpenter,  The  BMr  i,i  ih,'  \,n.i,n,ih  (,„- 
tury;  N.ash,  Iliit.   of  the.  Ilifjher  Cnli,-,\w:    Mnl,,^  ,1.    .I,,;. 

the  Stitdi/  of  Germ.  Theol.;  Fairbairn,   77 


Tlir  Piuphct  of 
AltJinU  Litt  1,  and  1/ 
A  htply  to  Harnack  < 
\\  alther.  Ad  Hamack 
lichf.  iTemeindegepruf! 
tr  Orr,  Christ  I  teu  t 
hxt  ut,ni  and  Ciilico 
KeiMhlc  Thecl  iind  i 
der  F  rde    Ul    Heft  3    i 


,h.    p    n« 


/  !  I  I  irvit  /  f  htian  Thi  I  ^jy 
Jill  n\j    ch      boderblom,     Rtluionen 

hill  ii^n-^qe^ch  I  otkbbucher  and  othtr 
nei  as  e  7  Der  Ursprung  deg  Bud 
and  W  elche  Rebgion  bitten  die  Juden 
nllinaiin     houssft     DieReligion%esi_h 

hi'ni    hfiii     luh    l'»04  and  following 


Imprtssions  of  Chnstiamt}  from  the  point  of 
Chri-tian  Eebgions  HMert  Journal,  Juh  inii, 
niiniUrs  FameW,  Evolutton  of  Religion  Jordan, 
hihiun,  Chejne,  Bible  Problems ,  WestLott, 
t  I  t  \\ace  Chnstiamty  and  Agno-.tict'.m 
h  a        and  Riiilaiwn,  Swete,  The  Tcachmq    I 

ar  //  f  hn  tolngy  of  JeSllS  ,  Godet,  DttiU 
in  I  I  Ih  1  ML  tr  ,  Row,  The  Jelus  of  the  tian 
Lrn  1/  /  t  h  and  the  Christian  Messiah 
11     /     /  1      Hcnnecke,  Ncutest   Apokri/phin, 


SLhu 


•  Moderi 


View  of  Jesus,' 


!  1  ^  Robinson  ^tiidy  of  the  Gospels , 
Cifed  and  the  thriitian  Idea  of  Sm, 
li  Headlain,  Critical  Questions,  1903 , 
((.•^p  tho<;e  b\  Chase,  Mason,  Foakes 
llu  A  T  (St  Margaret  8  Lectures),  1903  , 


of  Chi 


irdno 


4  Htitoncnl 


Moffatt  Hntm  al  \T ,  von 
geschichte  ,  Gamble,  Chnst  ai 
«■(  I'Eghte,  and  Autmir  d  un  , 
to  Loisj),  J^stis  Messie  et  I 
T  A  Lace>,  Harnack  an  I 
Lehre  Jeau 


Farrar,  Crit.  Hist. 


der  netiestcn  Theol.; 


pt.  2 ;  C.  L.  Broun,  '  Protest.  Crit.  of  NT  in  IJernianv,'  Inter- 
preter, vol.  ii.  No.  1 ;  W.  Adams  Brown,  The  Essence  nf  Christi- 
anity; %Veinel,JesvsiinneunzehntenJahrhundert;  N.  Schmidt, 


*  In  this  book  (p.  88)  Wendt  speaks  of  the  Gosptl 
Christian  piety  which  has  no  analogy  in  other  religioi 
the  sigDificance  of  salvation  by  Jesus  Christ  is  found  in  H 
lation,  as  perfect  Son  of  God,  of  God's  fatherly  love,  and 
powerful  impulse  which  He  ha^  exerted  on  men  to  dra 
Ulto  this  blessed  <;on-.|ri'  T!m^  O^pr)  f-  pn  hr-  kIH  ■,  hi 
its  expression  in  \!..  -'..h.  r  Mm  -  ii,  r,,.,i  ■.  1..:  |.,--i..^ 
Pauline  letter'^,  rr   1    •  i    r   ■  ti.  ,    ^j 

which  Wendt  rr-^,n.l. ..:   :im   .1      i| 

stood  nearest  tM.l.-ii~,  tin    m.  -t    li.,iMtiiiil    i.<nr<l   >'\   ; 
directly  inspired  by  His  words  and  liiL". 


Theot     h         II  \|  1   I    1       1     ^11(1    f..llo«,„i; 

Luthardt      (  If      \     t     i      \y     ..-17u.   <. 

VMhom,  Das  Leben  r  Da    lilhni  „  11  ,  \. 

dePteasensi,  JiSUS  Cfin  I    n     4  \miil  ale  tion,  /(  f/iiisfo 

delta  StoriaedcllaScnltiau  IJi  \isLln,r,  Jtsus  und  Paulus  ' 
in  Theol.  Rundschau,  April,  Maj ,  Ijns ,  Feme,  Jems  und 
Paulus  ;  Deissmann,  '  Lv  angehum  und  Urchristentum '  in 
Beitriige  zur  KeitenntuicUung  der  Religion,  1905;  M.  Dais, 
The  Bible.  See,  further,  books  mentioned  above,  and  in  artt. 
BiRTU  OF  Christ,  Gospels,  etc. 

R.  J.  Knowung. 
CROSS-BEARING.-For  the  historical 

of  the  literal  cross,  see  CRUCIFIXION. 
The  English  word  '  cross'  is  from  the  Latin  eiiix  through  the 
French  croix,  Old  French  and  Middle  English  eroi«.  But 
fftoAjpci  (from  'itrrvf-i-i')  is  not  synonymous  with  crux,  but  was 
originally  a  wider  term,  and,  like  irzoko^if,  meant  a  stake  (Honi., 
Herod.,  Thuc,  Sen.).  In  the  NT,  however  (not  present  in 
LXX),  it  is  used  only  in  the  sense  of  crux. 

This  article  deals  only  Mith  the  figurative  uses 
of  the  term  in  the  Gospels  or  in  relation  to  the 
death  of  Christ  on  the  cross  as  interpreted  in  the 
Acts  and  Epistles.  For  the  archieological  and 
magical  histoi-y  of  the  sign  of  the  cross  outside 
as  well  as  within  the  pale  of  Christianity,  see 
Zijckler's  Das  Kreuz  Christi  (1875  [Eng.  tr.  1878]), 
Goblet  d'Alviella's  Migration  of  Symbols  (1894), 
and  his  art.  'Cross'  in  Hastings  forthcoming 
Dictionary  of  Religion  and  Ethics.  The  true 
mysticism  in  the  cross  of  Christ  as  conceived  by 
St.  1 '.ml  comes  properly  before  us. 

1.  I'lie  use  of  the  word  by  Jesus  in  the  sense  of 
rriiss-hriiring.—On  three  separate  occasions  Jesus 
sjioke  of  cross-bearing  as  essential  to  discipleship. 
I'lie  first  is  in  Mt  10^,  when  He  sent  out  the 
Twelve  on  a  special  preaching  tour  at  the  close  of 
the  Galitean  ministry,  just  a  little  over  a  year 
before  His  death.  Meyer,  in  loco,  considers  this 
passage  proleptically  misplaced  by  St.  Matthew, 
and  thinks  it  should  come  after  Mt  16".  But 
there  is  no  need  of  this  supposition,  for  the  figure 
of  bearing  one's  cross  would  be  quite  intelligible 
to  Jews  since  the  days  of  Antiochus  Epiphanes, 
Alexander  Janna;us,  and  Varus.  Josephus  (BJ 
V.  xi.  1)  even  says  that  Titus  crucified  so  many 
that  there  were  not  places  for  the  crosses,  or 
crosses  for  the  victims.  The  Jews  themselves  had 
not  favoured  crucifixion,  save  Alexander  Janna;us, 
the  '  Thracian '  in  spirit.     Broadus  (on  Mt  16") 


CEOSS 

rightly  denies  that  thi.s  saj'ing  of  Jesus  about 
bearing  one's  cross  is  an  anaclironism  before  His 
own  crucifixion.  He  did  bear  His  own  cross  (Jn 
19''),  perhajjs  the  crosspiece  properly  speaking ; 
but  so  did  the  criminals  usually  who  were  cruci- 
fied, for  Plutarch  says  :  iKaa-ros  KaKoipywv  (K(pipei 
T&v  aiiToO  (TTa.vp6v  (de  Sera  Num.  Vinci.  9).  It  is  a 
general  illustration  that  the  disciples  could  have 
easily  understood,  though  they  were  not  yet  able 
to  see  the  evident  prophetic  allusion  to  Christ's 
own  literal  experience.  It  is  not  without  special 
point  that  Jesus  thus  expressed  the  fundamental 
principle  of  selfsacrilice  under  the  image  of  the 
cross.  He  did  not  plainly  say  that  He  would  be 
crucified  till  shortly  before  His  death  (Mt  20"), 
but  Jesus  Himself  is  conscious  of  the  death  on  the 
cross  which  '  He  himself  will  be  called  upon  to 
endure'  (Meyer  on  Mt  16-''). 

The  second  time  that  Christ  spoke  of  cross- 
bearing  was  when  He  rebuked  Peter  for  playing 
the  part  of  Satan  (Mk  ^■>\  Mt  16^*,  Lk  9®).  On 
the  iirst  occasion  the  Master  was  giving  directions 
to  the  disciples  about  their  preaching,  but  here  He 
addressed  this  vivid  condition  of  discipleship  '  unto 
air  (Lk  9^)  as  a  '  deterrent  in  a  high  degree,  sug- 
gesting a  procession  of  furciferi  headed  by  Jesus 
and  consisting  of  His  followers '  (Swete  on  Mk  8^''). 
Many  of  the  followers  of  Judas  and  Simon  in 
Galilee  had  been  crucified  {Jos.  Ant.  XVII.  x.  10). 
St.  Luke  adds  'daily, '  though  the  aorist  term 
ipdrw  is  used.  The  permanence  of  this  cross- 
bearing  is  emphasized  by  the  present  tense  of 
'  follow '  {dKo\ov$elToi). 

St.  Luke  alone  gives  the  third  use  of  the  expres- 
sion (14"),  and  it  is  in  Perrea,  not  long  before  the 
raising  of  Lazarus  from  the  dead.  In  this  instance 
;8oo-T(if«,  not  atpa,  is  used,  the  only  NT  example  of 
the  figurative,  as  Jn  19"  is  the  only  NT  instance 
of  the  literal,  use  of  the  verb  with  aravpdi  (Plummer, 
Internat.  Crit.  Com.  in  loco). 

2.  The  term  '  Crucified '  comes  to  be  a  favourite 
one  with  the  name  of  Jesus.  The  angels  at  the 
empty  tomb  speak  of  'Jesus  the  Nazarene,  the 
Crucified  One  (^l-riaovv  ^iiTeiTe  rbv  'Sa^ap-qvbv  rbv 
iaravpuiihov,  Mk  16«,  Mt  28*).  St.  Peter  in  his 
great  address  on  the  day  of  Pentecost  charges 
the  Jews  with  having  crucified  Jesus  (Ac  2*). 
He  repeats  the  charge  when  brought  before  the 
Sanhedrin  (4'").  St.  Peter  elsewhere  always  (Ac 
gso  i()39^  I  p  22->)  speaks  of  Christ  as  hanging  on  a 
tree  (^iJXov) ;  but  this  non-classical  use  of  ^iXov  as 
equal  to  gibbet  or  cross  (the  stocks  in  Ac  16-'')  is 
found  in  the  LXX  as  tr.  for  Heb.  i'y  (Gn  40'"  etc.). 
St.  Paul  so  uses  the  term  also  in  Ac  13°'  and  Gal 
3'^  (quotation  here  from  Dt  21^).  Each  example 
in' the  NT  is  a  quotation  from  the  LXX.  But  in 
the  LXX  ivKov  does  not  refer  to  crucifixion,  but 
rather  to  the  prohibited  nailing  up  of  unburied 
bodies  after  the  manner  of  the  heathen  nations 
(1  8  31'").  But  St.  Tan!  s|M>,-iks  rather  of  'Christ 
crucified,'  more  properly,  '  ( 'hrist  as  crucified'  (pre- 
dicate), XpiaThv  etTTavp'ujijii'of  (I  Co  1='),  and  once 
he  sharply  accents  the  idea  Ijy  saying  'l-qa-ovp  Xpia-riip 
Kai  TovTov  ((TTavpuf/^vov  (1  Co  2°),  in  opposition  to 
his  Judaizing  opponents.  This  was  his  method  of 
openly  setting  forth  (■wpoeyp6.<p-q)  .lesus  as  crucified 
(Gal  3'),  like  a  public  placard.  The  blindness  of 
the  enemies  of  Christ  comes  out  in  St.  Paul's  use  of 
the  term  with  the  Lord  of  ylory  (1  Co  2'),  and  yet 
He  was  crucified  in  weakness  (2  Co  13^).  Rev  11' 
merely  identifies  Jerusalem  as  the  city  \\here  Jesus 
was  crucified. 

3.  The  cross  as  the  ejntoTiic  of  the  (fospel.—The 
disciples  naturally  passed  to  this  idea  when  they 
came  to  understand  the  meaning  of  the  death  of 
Christ.  The  cross  tliat  had  seemed  the  destruction 
of  their  hopes  (Lk  24=')  now  became  the  symbol  of 
the  gospel  of  grace.     '  But  we  preach  Christ  cruci- 


CROSS  395 

fied  '  (1  Co  P'),  says  St.  Paul,  as  opposed  to  Jewish 
spectacular  apocalyptics  and  Greek  philosophizing  ; 
and  lie  preached  nothing  else,  not  simply  at  Corinth, 
for  he  had  done  so  at  Athens  (Ac  17^'),  and  this 
was  the  settled  purpose  of  his  ministry  (ICo  2-). 
It  was  not  the  example  of  Jesus  that  St.  Paul 
preached,  but  Jesus  as  the  crucified  Saviour,  who, 
and  not  Paul,  was  crucified  '  in  your  behalf ' 
(1  Co  1'^).  It  was,  in  fact,  by  His  death  on  the 
cross  that  Jesus  made  the  sacrifice  for  our  sins,  in 
our  behalf,  and  in  our  stead.  We  are  under  (utto) 
a  curse  (Gal  3'°),  and  Christ  became  a  curse  (Kardpa) 
for  (I'/ir^p)  us,  and  so  redeemed  us  from  (iK)  or  out 
from  under  the  curse  of  the  Law  (v.'-').  He  became 
the  curse,  and  came  between  us  and  the  overhang- 
ing law  of  God. 

This  conception  of  the  cross  reappears  in  Col  1-°, 
where  Jesus  is  said  to  have  made  peace  and  recon- 
ciliation with  God  possible  according  to  the  good 
pleasure  of  God  '  through  the  blood  of  his  cross.' 
The  word  '  blood '  is  probably  used  here  to  empha- 
size, against  the  early  Docetic  Gnostics,  the  reality 
of  the  human  nature  of  Jesus.  So  in  Col  2'''  by  a 
vivid  image  the  Law  itself  is  represented  as  nailed 
to  the  cross  with  the  body  of  Christ,  and  so  taken 
out  of  the  way  and  no  longer  binding  on  us  as  a 
means  of  salvation  (cf.  Ro ']'').  In  Eph  2""  the  cross 
is  presented  as  the  basis  for  a  double  reconciliation, 
both  with  God  and  so  with  each  other,  '  through 
the  cross,  having  slain  the  enmity  thereby.'  So 
both  Jew  and  Gentile  have  '  access  in  one  Spirit 
unto  the  Father,'  and  the  middle  wall  of  partition 
is  broken  down.  They  form  one  body  in  Christ, 
the  Church  of  all  the  elect  of  which  Christ  is  head, 
one  new  man.  'The  word  of  the  cross'  (1  Co  1'"), 
then,  is  St.  Paul's  message  to  men.  It  was  to 
proclaim  this  truth  that  Christ  sent  him  forth 
(1  Co  1") ;  and  this  he  will  do  by  holding  fast  to 
the  great  essential  fact  rather  than  by  tine-spun 
theories  (1  Co  1"  2^),  lest  the  gospel  be  emptied  of 
all  real  power  {KevuBrj). 

i.  The  shame  of  the  cross. — It  was  a  real  shame 
that  Jesus  underwent  when  He  suttered  on  the 
cross  as  a  common  malefactor.  The  Jews  con- 
sidered as  accursed  one  whose  dead  body  merely 
was  hung  upon  a  gibbet,  and  St.  Paul  recognized 
this  shame  as  belonging  to  Jesus  (Gal  3").  Jesus 
not  only  foresaw  the  fact  and  the  character  of 
His  death,  but  was  fully  aware  of  the  shame 
of  the  cross.  This  death,  called  by  Cicero  'crud- 
elissimum  teterrimunique '  (in  Verr.  v.  64),  had 
its  side  of  glory  to  Jesus,  who  saw  the  joy  in  store 
at  the  end  {dfrl)  of  the  race,  and  so  consciously 
despised  the  shame  (He  12=).  Here  cravpds  is  used 
without  the  article,  as  in  Ph  2*,  '  in  order  to  fix 
attention  on  the  nature  of  the  death '  (Westcott). 
It  is  in  Ph  '2*  that  the  cross  is  used  to  express  '  the 
very  lowest  point  of  Christ's  humiliation'  (Vin- 
cent). Jesus  became  obedient  /H^XP'  Oaydrov,  Bavdrov 
U  ffravpov.  It  is  the  bottom  rung  in  the  ladder 
that  led  down  from  the  throne  of  God.  The  cros.s 
was  a  real  stumbling-block  to  the  disciples  them- 
selves till  they  were  convinced  of  the  fact  of  the 
resurrection  of  Jesus  from  the  dead.  It  remained 
to  the  unbelieving  Jews  an  insuperable  barrier. 
It  was  so  when  Jesus  spoke  of  it  before  the  event 
(Jn  1232-3-'  '  AVho  is  this  Son  of  man?').  St.  Paul 
found  that  Christ  crucified  was  to  tlie  sign-seeking 
Jews  a  stumbling-block  (ICo  1=-).  The  writer  of 
Hebrews  (13'')  urges  Christians  to  go  outside  the 
camp  of  Judaism,  as  Jesus  suflered  outsitle  the 
gate,  when  it  was  clear  that  the  two  ways  must 
part,  '  bearing  his  reproach.'  The  follower  of  Jesua 
must  not  be  ashamed  of  the  shame  of  the  cross. 
Some  of  the  Judaizers,  indeed,  were  not  willing  to 
'  be  persecuted  for  the  cross  of  Christ '  (Gal  6'"), 
but  St.  Paul  did  not  seek  to  escape  '  the  stumbling- 
block  of  the  cross '  (Gal  5").     Indeed,  some  carried 


396 


CROWD 


CROWD 


their  dislike  of  the  cross  to  the  point  of  enmity 
(Ph  3'*).  These  men  would  endure  neither  persecu- 
tion nor  self-denial.  But  the  philosophical  Greeks 
took  the  matter  more  lightlj',  and  considered  the 
preaching  of  the  cross  to  be  foolishness  (1  Co  !'*•  ^), 
though  in  truth  the  cross  reveals  the  hitherto 
hidden  wisdom  of  God  (1  Co  2*'-). 

While  the  Christian  is  to  share  the  shame  of  the 
cross,  he  is  not  to  add  to  the  sufi'erin"  of  Christ 
by  crucifying  Him  afresh  {ava<rravp6u.  He  6"). 

5.  The  triumph  of  the  cross  over  the  flesh  and  the 
ivorld. — In  a  mystic,  yet  real,  sense  the  Christian 
is  crucified  Avith  Christ  on  the  cross :  Xpiarii  awe- 
(rravpu/iai,  St.  Paul  said  of  himself  (Gal  2™).  It  is 
'a  real  crucifixion  of  heart  and  will'  (Kendall). 
This  spiritual  crucifixion  of  the  old  man  on  the 
cross  is  the  common  experience  of  all  genuine 
believers  (Gal  5'-^  Ro  6")  who  have  died  to  sin  and 
have  entered  into  the  new  life  in  Christ  as  sym- 
bolized by  baptism.  In  a  word,  the  power  of  "the 
world  over  St.  Paul's  fleshly  nature  is  broken  by 
tlie  cross  of  Christ.  There  is  a  double  crucifixion 
between  him  and  the  world  (Gal  6").  The  world 
in  its  sinful  aspects  is  dead  to  him  and  lie  to  it. 
Hence  not  only  is  St.  Paul  not  ashamed  of  the 
cross  of  Christ,  as  the  Judaizers  are  who  are  seek- 
ing to  enslave  the  Gentiles  to  the  ceremonial  law 
(Gal  6'=),  but  he  finds  his  only  ground  of  glorying 
in  the  cross  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  (Gal  6"). 
This  sublime  mysticism  does  not  degenerate  into 
magic  and  crucifixes.  The  true  philosophy  of  the 
cross  lies  in  the  spiritual  interpretation  of  man's 
victorious  conflict  with  sin,  which  is  made  possible 
by  the  shameful  death  of  the  Son  of  God  on  the 
cross  as  the  supreme  expression  of  the  love  of  the 
Father  for  sinful  men,  and  as  the  propitiatory 
sacrifice  on  the  basis  of  which  the  repentant  soul 
can  find  access  to  the  Father.  The  '  blood  of  the 
cross '  lies  at  the  root  of  redemptive  grace  as  set 
forth  by  Jesus  (Mt  26=»),  by  St.  Peter  (1  P  P),  by 
St.  Paul  (Ro  3-^'-),  by  the  writer  of  Hebrews  {9'\ 
and  by  St.  John(lJn  1'). 

Mention  should  be  made  of  the  ingenious  theory 
of  Prof.  C.  C.  Everett  in  his  GosjkI  of  Paul,  which 
denies  tlie  [lenal  character  of  the  death  of  Christ 
on  the  cross,  and  sees  in  this  supreme  event  only 
the  ceremonial  defilement  which  Christians  share 
who  take  Christ  as  Lord  and  who  thus  likewise 
Ijecome  accursed  (Gal  3^'),  and  so  have  the  power 
of  the  Law  over  them  removed.  But  this  theory 
misses  the  deeper  aspects  of  the  whole  problem,  by 
overstraining  an  incidental  truth  connected  with 
the  death  of  Christ  on  the  cross.  See  the  matter 
well  disposed  of  by  Bruce,  St.  Paul's  Conception  of 
Christianity,  p.  184  fl". 

LiTKRATUBE.— Zockler,  i)n«ffrfwzCAris«i(1875);  Brandt,  Die 
EmngelUche  Geschichte,  etc.  (1S93);  Fulda,  Das  Kreuz  mid 
die  Kreuzimim  (187S) ;  Lipsius,  de  Cruce  (1595) ;  Everett,  The 
Gospel  of  Paul  (1893)  ;  articles  on  'Cross'  in  Hastings'  DB,  in 
Smith's  DB,  in  Herzog's  PRE,  and  in  the  Enei/c.  Bibl. ;  Cremer, 
Bibt.Thtol.  Lex.  of  ST  Greek  (1892) :  the  Lives  of  Christ  and 
Paul ;  the  critical  Commentaries ;  the  Biblical  Theologies. 

A.  T.  R0BERT.SOX. 
CROWD. — In  many  passages  of  the  Gospels  we 
read  of  the  rapid  gatliering  of  a  crowd  around 
Jesus.  The  healing  of  the  man  with  the  Anthered 
hand  seems  to  have  been  the  first  occasion  on 
which  a  great  company  was  drawn  to  Him  by 
curiosity  or  by  tlie  hope  of  healing.  '  His  fame 
went  throughout  all  Sj-ria.'  The  mnltitude  was 
gathered  from  Galilee,"  Jerusalem,  Juda'a,  Idu- 
msea,  and  from  the  district  round  Tyre  and  Sidon  ; 
the  whole  country  was  moved  (Mt  4^,  Mk  3"-*, 
Lk  6""").  AVhen  Jesus  retired  for  quiet  to  a  desert 
place  after  receiving  the  news  of  the  death  of  John 
the  Baptist,  He  wa-s  followed  by  a  crowd  of  five 
thousand  people  (Mt  14",  Mk  6«,  Lk  9").  The 
words  used  for  'crowd  '  are  6-)(\o$  and  ttX^^os  (both 
usually    rendered    '  multitude '    in    EV,    but    in 


Mk  2^  5^-3",  Lk  8"*  19^  «x^o!  is  tr.  •press'  [KV 
'crowd']).  In  classical  Greek  ttX^Sos  means  the 
common  people,  the  plebs,  as  opposed  to  Sx'^o'i  the 
inchoate  throng  that  comes  together  on  anj'  special 
occasion,  the  turba.  But  in  the  NT  the  distinc- 
tion is  not  uniformly  maintained  ;  in  Mk  3'"'  the 
words  are  used  intercliangeably.  St.  Luke  is  more 
exact  in  his  use  of  language,  and  in  Ac  15'°  uses 
TrKriBoi  in  a  technical  sense,  common  enough  in  the 
inscriptions,  as  meaning  the  membership  of  a 
political  or  religious  association  in  its  totality 
"^   ■  I,   Bible  Studies,    Eng.    tr.    232).      The 


question  arises  whether  there  were  any  special  1 
cumstances  in  those  days  that  favoured  the  coming 
together  of  such  masses  of  jjeople  upon  very  short 
notice. 

1.  The  Messianic  expectation  was  the  motive  of 
many  such  gatherings.  The  misgovernment  under 
the  "Herods  had  cast  the  nation's  thoughts  back 
upon  God,  and  the  Messianic  hope  awakened  with 
new  power.  The  attention  that  John  the  Baptist 
attracted  was  due  to  the  belief  that  he  was  the 
Messiah,  a  belief  that  he  took  pains  to  shatter. 
To  John  there  flocked  at  the  outset  of  his  ministry 
the  people  in  the  neighbourhood,  but  afterwards 
the  movement  reached  the  north  and  the  inflam- 
mable Galilee.  Jos.  {Ant.  XVIII.  v.  2)  says  tliat 
John  was  put  to  death  because  Herod  feared  lest 
the  crowds  he  Avas  gathering  about  him  should 
'  put  it  into  his  power  and  inclination  to  raise  a 
rebellion,  for  they  .seemed  ready  to  do  anything 
he  should  advise.'  It  was  in  consequence  of  a 
similar  movement  among  the  Samaritans  that 
Pilate  was  recalled.  The  bloodshed  with  which 
the  movement  was  cliecked  led  to  an  information 
being  laid  against  him  at  Rome  (Jos.  Ant.  XVlll. 
iv.  2).  It  is  clear  from  these  incidents  that  the 
Messianic  hope  was  very  present  with  the  people  ; 
and  whenever  the  times  raised  up  a  man  who 
seemed  to  lia\e  a  distinctive  message,  the  Jews 
were  more  than  willing;  to  flock  to  listen  to  him. 

2.  The  siplciidiii  loail  system  of  Palestine  facili- 
tated the  gatliering  of  suili  crowds.  The  Romans 
made  their  roads  partly  on  commercial  grounds, 
and  partly  to  permit  of  tlie  passage  of  troops 
among  the  turbulent  people.  The  commerce  of 
the  country  must  have  been  considerable  in  spite 
of  the  grinding  taxation.  Herod's  annual  income 
(Jos.  Ant.  XVII.  xi.  4)  .was  900  talents,  nearly 
£400,  (KK)  of  our  money.  The  regular  raising  of 
such  a  sum  implies  a  settled  trade,  and  much 
coming  and  going  between  difl'erent  parts  of  the 
country.  The  excellence  of  the  roads  is  borne 
witness  to  by  the  fact  that  the  Roman  procurator, 
who  resided  at  C.-esarea,  could  reach  Jerusalem 
with  troops  by  way  of  Antipatris  in  less  than 
twenty-four  hours.  The  distance  is  about  sixty 
miles.  Along  these  splendid  roads  the  crowd 
would  stream  on  the  first  hint  of  the  appearance  of 
one  who  might  be  the  ]SIessiah. 

3.  The  small  size  of  the  country  must  also  be 
remembered.  Palestine  bulks  so  large  in  spiritual 
significance  that  one  is  apt  to  forget  how  small  it 
is.  And  yet  from  the  shore  of  the  Dead  Sea  one 
may  view  the  glittering  snow  of  Hermon,  while 
from  the  hill  above  Nazareth  may  be  seen  on  the 
one  hand  the  ships  in  the  Mediterranean,  and  on 
the  other  the  rolling  liills  of  Gilead.  This  land,  only 
about  Jth  tlie  size  of  England,  Avas  densely  popu- 
lated. To-day  its  population  is  a  little  over  600,000, 
but  in  OT  and  Roman  times  must  have  been  very 
much  larger.  2  S  24'  implies  a  population  of 
6,500,000  ;  and,  while  it  may  be  questioned  whether 
the  land  ever  could  have  carried  so  great  a  popula- 
tion as  this,  it  is  clear,  both  from  the  notices  in 
liistorj'  and  from  the  existing  ruins,  that  the  desola- 
tions of  to-day  were  formerly  densely  peopled. 
The  populatioii  in  the  time  of  Christ  is  generally 


CROWN  OF  THORNS 


CRUCIFIXION 


397 


reckoned  to  have  been  about  2A  millions  (Sanday, 
Sacred  Sites  of  the  Gospels,  p.' 16).  See,  further, 
art.  Multitude.  R.  Bkuce  Taylor. 

CROWN  OF  THORNS  ((rr^^a-os  i^  aKapBCv  or 
d/cd^9(TOS  o-W^a^os,  Mt  272»,  Mk  15",  Jn  lO^- 1^).— This 
was  plaited  by  the  soldiers  and  placed  on  Christ's 
head  in  mockery  of  His  claim  to  Kingship,  after 
Pilate  had  condemned  Him  to  be  scourged.  It 
was  a  garland  hastily  twisted  from  the  twigs  of 
some  thorny  plant,  which  it  is  difficult  now  to 
identify.  Tristram  {Nat.  Hist,  of  the  Bible,  p.  429) 
supposes  it  was  the  thorn-tree  or  7iubk  of  the 
Arabs,  which  is  very  common  in  the  warmer  parts 
of  Palestine.  It  abounds  near  Jerusalem,  grows  to 
a  great  size  ;  its  twigs  are  tough  and  pliant,  and 
the  spikes  very  sharp  and  numerous.  Others 
incline  to  think  it  was  the  Zizyphus  Spina- 
christi,  a  spiny  plant  covered  with  sharp  prickles. 
The  purpose  of  the  soldiers  was  rather,  perhaps, 
mockery  of  the  Jews  than  cruelty  to  Christ. 
Pliny  speaks  (HN)  of  '  the  meanest  of  crowns,  a 
thorny  one.' 

In  the  writings  of  St.  Paul  a  crown  is  promised 
to  faithful  followers  of  Christ,  and  in  many  parts 
of  the  NT  Christ  Himself  is  spoken  of  as  wearing 
a  crown.  Sometimes  the  word  for  a  victor's  wreath 
is  used  {<rTi(pa.tios),  and  sometimes  that  for  a  royal 
crown  {Siddriij.a).*  The  emblematic  signihcance, 
afterwards  seen  by  the  Church  in  the  crown  of 
thorns,  is  possibly  hinted  at  in  He  2^  'crowned 
with  glory  and  honour.'  As  a  sacrificial  victim, 
in  being  led  out  to  death,  often  wore  a  garland  of 
flowers,  so  Jesus,  in  the  eyes  of  God  and  His  own 
disciples,  even  in  suffering  the  deepest  liumiliation, 
wears  a  crown  of  glory.  In  the  death  of  Christ 
His  Church  sees  mankind  crowned  with  life,  be- 
cause the  law  of  sin  and  death  was  thereby  abro- 
gated, and  the  Kingdom  of  heaven  opened  to  all 
believers.  The  thorns  mth  which  a  hostile  world 
pierced  the  Saviour's  brows  are  an  emblem  of  the 
sin  of  man,  the  curse  of  thistles  and  thorns  having 
been  threatened  after  the  Fall  (see  Dr.  H.  Mac- 
mUlan's  Ministry  of  Nature,  ch.  v.,  where  this  idea 
is  finely  worked  out).  But  these  wounds  become 
the  world's  salvation.  Througli  the  sinful  cruelty 
of  man  new  life  comes  to  a  condemned  world. 
God  thus  makes  the  wrath  of  man  to  praise  Him. 
What  was  meant  as  derision  is  really  a  prediction 
of  glory.     See  also  art.  Thorn. 

David  M.  W.  Laird. 

CRUCIFIXION.— Crucifixion  was  originally  an 
Oriental  punishment.  It  was  practised  by  the 
Persians  (Herod,  ix.  122),  by  the  Phcenicians  and 
their  colonists  the  Carthaginians  (Valer.  ii.  7),  and 
by  the  Egyptians  (Thuc.  iv.  110).  It  was  practised 
also  by  the  Greeks,  probably  in  imitation  of  the 
Persians  (Plut.  Alex.  72.  §2),  and  by  the  Romans, 
who,  though  Cicero  ascribes  its  introduction  to 
Tarquinius  Superbus,  probably  learned  it  from 
their  enemies  the  Carthaginians.  Regarding  it, 
however,  as  an  ignominious  doom,  the  Romans 
reserved  it  for  slaves  (whence  it  was  called  servile 
supplieium),  the  worst  sort  of  criminals  such  as 
robbers  ^5en.  Ep.  vii.),  and  provincials.  To  inflict 
it  on  a  Roman  citizen  was  reckoned  an  impiety 
(Cic.  in  Verr.  v.  66).  It  was  a  horrible  punish- 
ment. Cicero  designates  it  crudelissimum  teter- 
rimumque  supplieium.  The  verb  cognate  to  erux, 
'  cross,  was  crueiare,  '  to  torture '  (cf.  '  excruciat- 
ing '). 

There  were  two  kinds  of  cross  : 

1.  The  erux  simplex,  which  was  a  single  stake. 
Sometimes  the  victim  was  fastened  to  it  by  his 
hands  and  feet,  the  former  being  extended  above 

*  The  diatinction  between  trriaxvoi,  the  badge  of  merit,  and 
hittivifjM,  the  badge  of  royalty,  la  not  conaistently  obaerved  in 
Hellenistic  Greek  (see  Encyc' BM.  i.  963). 


his  head.  Usually,  however,  it  was  a  sharpened 
stake  {aKb\o\(/),  and  the  victim  was  impaled  upon 
it.  It  passed  through  the  length  of  his  body, 
issuing  from  his  mouth.  Cf.  Sen.  Ep.  xiv.  :  '  ad- 
actum  per  medium  hominem  qui  per  os  emergat 
stipitem '  ;  cf.  de  Consol.  ad  Marc.  xx.  The  former 
method  was  called  affixio,  the  latter  infixio. 

2.  The  erux  compaeia,  which  was  composed  of 
two  pieces.  It  had  three  forms  :  (1)  The  crux 
decussata  X>  called  also  the  crux  Andreana,  be- 
cause it  is  said  to  be  the  cross  on  which  St. 
Andrew  suffered  at  Patrse.  It  was  this  form  of 
cross  that  the  Fathers  had  in  view  when  in  the 
crossing  of  Jacob's  hands  as  he  blessed  Ephraim 
and  Manasseh  (On  48'''''')  they  saw  a  prophecy  of 
the  Crucifixion.  Cf.  Tert.  de  Bapt.  §  8;  Isid. 
Pel.  Epp.  i.  362.  (2)  The  crux  commissa  or  St. 
Anthony's  cross,  resembling  the  letter  T-  t!f. 
Barn.  Ep.  §  9 ;  Luc.  Jud.  Vocal.  %  12.  The  up- 
right was  called  stipes  or  staticulum,  and  the 
transom  patibulum  or  antenna.  (3)  The  ertix  im- 
■missa,  which  had  the  top  of  tlie  upright  protruding 
above  the  transom,  f.  From  the  middle  of  the 
upright  there  projected  a  peg,  the  seat  (sedile)  or 
horn  {cornu},  on  which,  to  support  its  weight,  the 
body  rested  as  on  a  saddle.  Cf.  Iren.  adv.  Hmr. 
ii.  36.  §  2  :  '  Ipse  habitus  crucis  fines  et  summitates 
habet  quinque,  duos  in  longitudine  et  duos  in  lati- 
tudine,  et  uuum  in  medio  in  quo  requiescat  qui 
clavis  affigitur '  ;  Just.  Mart.  Dial.  c.  Tryph.  p. 
318  C  (ed.  Sylburg.)  :  t6  iv  ry  fiAai^  iryiyvvix^vov  (is 
Kifiai  KOi  avrb  l^exov  icTlv,  4(p'  ij  iiroxoOvTai  ol  jravp- 

oiiflCVOi. 

It  was  generally  assumed  in  early  times  that  the 
cross  on  which  Jesus  suffered  was  a  erux  immissa. 
Thus  Augustine  (in  Psalm,  ciii.  §  14)  finds  in  Epli  S's 
a  mystic  allusion  to  the  cross  :  '  breadth  '  being  the 
transom  on  which  His  hands  were  outstretched ; 
'  length,'  the  upright  on  which  His  body  was 
fastened  ;  '  height,'  the  head  of  the  upright  pro- 
truding above  the  transom  ;  '  depth,'  the  lower 
end  buried  in  the  earth.  And  it  is  a  confirmation 
of  this  opinion  that  the  board  inscribed  with  His 
name  and  accusation  was  put  up  over  His  head 
(Mt  27"),  apparently  on  the  projection  of  the 
upright. 

The  early  Apologists  fancifully  defended  the  sacred  symbol  of 
the  cross  against  the  sneers  of  unbehevers  by  pointing  to  its 
appearance  everywhere,  as  though  nature  and  art  alike  did 
homage  to  it.  It  is  seen  in  the  quarters  of  the  heaven,  ^  " 
as  it  were,  running  from  "'  '-  "    --•■  ' 


in  i 


ing  from  N.  to  S.  and  from 
upward  with  spread  wings ;  in  a 
man  swimming  or  praying  "with  outstretched  hands ;  in  the 
nose  and  eyebrows  of  the  human  face ;  in  a  ship's  mast  and 
yard  ;  in  a  galley's  oars  projecting  on  either  side  ;  in  the  yoke 
of  a  plough  and  the  handle  of  a  spade ;  in  the  shape  of  trophies 
ani  fasces.'    See  Tree. 

The  erueiarius  was  spared  no  circumstance  of 
ignominy.  He  was  required  to  carry  the  transom 
to  the  place  of  execution  ;  t  he  was  driven  thither 
with  goad  and  scourge  along  the  most  frequented 
streets,  that  the  populace  might  profit  by  so  signal 
an  exhibition  of  the  terrors  of  justice  ;  and  a  herald 
went  before,  bearing  a  board  whereon  the  victim's 
name  and  offence  were  inscribed.t  Thus  burdened 
and  tormented,  Jesus  went  His  sorrowful  way  from 
the  Prsetorium  till  He  reached  the  gate  of  the  city 
(Mt  27^2) ;  and  there  His  strength  failed,  and  He 
could  go  no  farther.  Tradition  has  it  that  He 
fell.  The  soldiers  relieved  Him  of  His  burden, 
and,  impressing  Simon  of  Cyrene,  laid  it  on  his 
shoulders.  Even  then  Jesus  was  imable  to  walk 
unsupported,  and  had  to  be  borne  along  to  the 
scene  of  His  crucifixion.      Cf.    Mk   15--  (pipovinv 


90  C-E  ;  Tert.  Apol. 

">um."rS!5r§9;  Arteniidor.  Oneir.  ii.  01; 

as 
Lightfoot  on  Mt  273>. 


398 


CEUCIFIXION 


CRUCIFIXION 


On  arrival  at  the  place  of  execution  (see  GOL- 
GOTHA), four  soldiers  were  told  off  by  the  centurion 
in  charge  to  do  the  work  (cf.  Jn  19-').  They  jiro- 
ceeded  in  the  customary  way.  First  of  all,  the 
cruciarius  was  stripped  naked,  his  garments  being 
regarded  as  the  rightful  perquisites  of  his  execu- 
tioners.* Then  he  was  laid  on  his  back  over  tlie 
transom  and  his  hands  fastened  to  either  end. 
Thereafter  the  transom  was  hoisted  on  the  upright 
and  his  feet  were  fastened  to  the  latter.  Usually 
the  hands  were  nailed  through  the  palms  and  the 
feet  were  fixed  either  by  two  nails,  one  through 
each  instep,  or  by  a  single  nail  transfixing  both 
through  the  Achilles  tendon  ;  sometimes,  however, 
the  liands  and  feet  were  simply  tied.f  Though 
less  painful  at  the  moment,  the  latter  was  the 
more  terrible  method,  since  it  protracted  tlie 
victim's  sufferings.  He  hung  till  he  died  of  hun- 
ger and  exhaustion,  or  was  devoured  by  birds  and 
beasts  of  prey.  J  The  hands  of  Jesus  were  certainly 
nailed,  but  it  seems  that  His  feet  were  only  tied 
(cf.  Jn  20**-  "•  ").§  The  sole  Evangelic  authority 
for  supposing  that  they  were  nailed  is  Lk  24'^*  W, 
which  is  probably  assimilated  to  Ps  22'*.  From 
two  circumstances,  (1)  that  a  soldier  could  reach 
the  lips  of  Jesus  with  a  short  reed  (Mt27*  =  Mk 
15*'=Jn  19=»),  and  (2)  that  wUd  beasts  could  tear 
out  the  entrails  of  the  cruciarius  as  he  hung,||  it 
appears  that  the  cross  was  of  no  great  height.  It 
was  enough  if  the  feet  cleared  the  ground. 

There  was  a  humane  custom  among  the  Jews, 
based  on  Pr  31*,  that  a  potion  of  medicated  wine 
should  be  administered  to  the  cruciarii  in  order  to 
deaden  their  sensibility.  The  merciful  drauglit 
was  provided  by  a  society  of  charitable  ladies  in  Jeru- 
salem.lT  It  was  offered  to  Jesus  ere  the  nails  were 
driven  through  His  hands,  and  He  raised  it  to  His 
thirsty  lips  ;  but  on  tasting  what  it  was  He  would 
not  drink  it.  What  was  His  reason  for  rejecting  it  ? 
It  was  not  that  the  endurance  of  physical  pain  was 
necessary  to  the  efficacy  of  His  sacrificial  death  ;  ** 
nor  was  it  merely  that  He  had  a  sentimental  repug- 
nance to  the  idea  of  dying  in  a  state  of  stupefac- 
tion, tt  It  was  rather  because  He  was  bent  on  doing 
to  the  last  the  work  which  had  been  gi^en  Him  to 
do.  It  was  well  for  the  penitent  brigand  that 
Jesus  did  not  drink  the  potion. 

It  was  usual  for  the  victims  of  that  frightful 
punishment,  maddened  by  terror  and  pain,  to  shriek, 
entreat,  curse,  and  spit  at  their  executioners  and 
the  bystanders  ;  XX  hut  Jesus  endured  the  torture 
meekly.  A  cry  broke  from  His  lips  as  they  were 
hammering  the  nails  through  His  hands ;  but  it 
was  a  prayer — not  an  appeal  to  them  for  mercy  on 
Himself,  but  an  appeal  to  God  for  mercy  on  them  : 
'  Father,  forgive  them  :  for  they  know  not  what 
they  are  doing.'  §§  The  transom  withjits  quivering 
loai  was  hoisted  on  the  upright,  and  there  He  hun;,', 
conscious  of  all  that  passed  around  Him.  It  is 
said  that  St.  Andrew,  as  he  hung  upon  his  cross  at 
Patrje,  taught  the  people  all  the  while  ;||||  and 
Jesus  also  in  His  anguish  was  mindful  of  others. 
Two  brigands  had  been  crucified  with  Him,  two  of 

•Cf.  WetstcinonMt2"3''. 
tCf.  Lips,  de  Cruc.  ii.  viii. 
t  Cf.  ii.  xii.-xiii. 

§  Cf.  Bv.  Pfir.  5  6  :  toti  kTtffmtffetn  TOiii  JiXouf  aTO  r^v  ^ttfiaiv  Toy 

II  Cf.  Lips,  de  Cruc.  ii.  xiii. 

t  Cf.  Lightfoot  on  Mt  273*;  Wetetein  on  Mk  1523.  See  art. 
Gall. 

**  Cf.  Calv. :  '  Nam  et  h»o  pare  sacriacii  et  obedientiso  ejus 
erat,  lanjfuoris  moram  ad  extremum  usque  suflerre.' 

tt  Cf.  Dr.  Johnson  :  '  I  will  take  no  more  physic,  not  even  my 
opiates ;  for  I  have  prayed  that  I  may  render  up  ray  soul  to  God 
unclouded. ' 

;:  i:i.  '■  ■  '  '  r  ,,    ..  :;,  proClutnt.  66;  Jos.  BJiv.  vi.  1,  vii. 


t  unquestionably  i 
)n.    Ct.  WH,  XoU 


tliose  outlaws  who  infested  the  steep  road  from 
Jericho  to  Jerusalem,  and  by  their  deeds  of  violence 
gave  it  the  grim  name  of  '  the  Ascent  of  Blood ' 
(cf.  Lk  10^") ;  and  when  one  of  them,  recognizing 
the  majesty  of  the  meek  Sufferer,  turned  to  Him 
and  prayed  Him  to  remember  him  when  He  '  came 
in  his  kingdom,'  He  granted  more  than  he  sought, 
promising  him  a  place  that  very  day  in  Paradise. 
And  He  thought  of  His  mother,  as  she  stood  by 
distracted  with  grief,  and  commended  her  to  the 
care  of  the  beloved  disciple.  While  He  hung.  He 
was  compassed  with  insults.  The  Jewish  rulers, 
exulting  in  their  seeming  triumph,  mocked  Him, 
and  the  multitude  joined  in  the  poor  sport.  So  did 
the  soldiers  who  were  charged  with  the  duty  of 
watching  the  crosses  lest  a  rescue  should  be 
attempted.*  Heated  by  their  labour,  they  were 
refreshing  themselves  from  their  jar  of  posca,  the 
vinegar  which  was  the  only  drink  allowed  to 
soldiers  on  duty  (see  VINEGAR).  Jesus  was  in 
their  eyes  a  pretender  to  the  Jewish  throne,  a 
rebel  against  the  imperial  government;  and,  hear- 
m^  the  gibes  of  the  rulers,  they  joined  in,  and, 
holding  up  their  cups  in  mock  homage,  drank  His 
Majesty's  health  (Lk  '2Z'^). 

Crucifixion  was  a  lingering  doom.  The  victims 
sometimes  hung  for  days  ere  they  died  of  hunger, 
exhaustion,  loss  of  blood,  and  the  fever  of  their 
wounds.t  unless  they  were  despatched  either  by  a 
spear-thrust  or  by  the  coirp  dc  grace  of  the  cruri- 
fragium,  a  brutality  which  the  Romans  practised 
usually  on  slaves,  beating  the  life  out  of  them  by 
shattering  blows  with  a  heavy  mallet.J  It  was, 
however,  contrary  to  the  Jewish  law  (Dt  o,\-^-''^) 
that  they  should  hang  overnight ;  and  it  was  the 
more  necessary  that  the  requirement  should  be  ob- 
served in  this  instance,  since  the  next  day  was  not 
only  the  Sabbath  but  the  Sabbath  of  the  Paschal 
week,  a  day  of  special  solemnity  (Jn  19*').  There- 
fore the  luicrs  waited  on  Pilate,  and  requested  that 
Jt>u^  :iiiil  till'  liiii;ands  might  be  despatched  by  the 
rnif  ifr.hiiiin^.  and  their  bodies  taken  do^vn  from 
the  iiiiNMs  elf  (j  o'clock  that  evening,  when  the 
Sabbatli  would  begin.  PUate  consented,  and  the 
soldiers  set  about  the  brutal  work.  They  de- 
spatched the  two  brigands,  but  when  they  came 
to  Jesus,  He  was  already  dead.  There  was  no 
need  to  strike  Him  with  the  mallet;  but  one  of 
them,  to  ensure  that  He  was  really  dead,  drove  his 
spear  into  His  side.     See  Blood  AND  Water. 

The  prominent  characteristic  of  crucifixion  was 
the  ignominy  of  it  (cf.  Gal  3'^  He  122).  jhis  con- 
stituted '  the  stumbling-block  of  the  cross '  (Gal 
5")  in  Jewish  eyes.  Since  it  was  expected  that  the 
Messiah  would  be  a  glorious  and  victorious  King, 
it  seemed  incredible  that  one  who  was  slain,  and 
not  only  slain  but  crucified,  should  be  the  Messiah. 
In  the  eyes  of  the  NT  writers,  on  the  contrary,  its 
very  ignominy  constituted  its  supreme  suitability 
to  the  Messiah.  It  identified  Him  utterly  with 
sinners,  making  Him  a  sharer  in  the  worst  ex- 
tremity of  their  condition.  St.  John  recognized  a 
Srovidential  dispensation  in  the  enslavement  of  the 
ews  to  the  Romans,  inasmuch  as  it  brought  about 
the  Crucifixion  (IS''-  3'-).  Had  they  been  free,  Jesus 
would  have  been  stoned  as  a  blasphemer  ;  but 
since  they  were  vassals  of  Rome,  it  was  not  law- 
ful for  them  to  put  any  one  to  death  (Jn  18''). 
The  Sanhedrin's  sentence  had  to  be  referred  to  the 
procurator.  It  was  invalid  without  his  ratification, 
and  it  was  executed  by  his  authority  after  the 
Roman  manner. 
It  is    remarkable    that,   unlike    the    mediajval 

♦  Cf.  Petron.  Sat.: '  Cruciarii  unius  parentes  ut  viderunt  noctu 
laxatam  custodiam,  detraxere  pendentem ' :  Jos,  Vit.7!i:  three 
cnrciarii  taken  down  ;  one  recovered  from  his  wounds. 

t  Cf.  Lips,  tie  Cruc.  ii.  xii. 

}  Cf.  ib.  xiv. 


I 


CRUSE 


399 


artists,  who  loved  to  depict  the  Man  of  Sorrows  as 
He  hung  on  the  cross  abused  and  bleeding,  the 
Evangelists  have  drawn  a  veil  over  the  scene,  detail- 
ing none  of  the  ghastly  particulars,  and  saying 
merely  :  '  They  crucified  him.'  They  recognized  in 
tlie  Crucifixion  not  the  triumph  of  human  malice  but 
the  consummation  of  a  Divine  purpose—'  the  deter- 
minate counsel  and  foreknowledge  of  God '  (Ac  2=^). 
At  the  moment  all  was  dark  to  the  disciples ;  but 
when  their  minds  were  Ulumined  by  the  Holy 
Spirit,  they  saw  not  only  '  the  sufferings  that  befell 
Messiah '  but  '  the  glories  that  followed  these ' 
(1  P  1").  Their  Lord  had  never  seemed  so  kingly 
in  their  eyes  as  when  He  '  reigned  from  the  tree.'  * 
In  early  days,  according  to  some  authorities,  Lk  9^' 
ran :  '  They  were  speaking  of  the  glory  which  He 
was  about  to  fulfil  at  Jerusalem.'  t  So  Chrysostom 
quotes  the  passage ;  and  this  is  the  constant  con- 
ception of  the  NT.  •  We  look  upon  Jesus,'  says 
the  author  of  the  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews,  '  because 
of  the  -suffering  of  death  crowned  with  glory  and 
honour' (2^  cf.  Ph  28'-)- 

Throughout  His  ministry  Jesus  recognized  the  inevitable 
necessity  of  His  Passion.  He  had  come  to  die.  Cf.  Mt  015= Mlt 
2211  =  Lk6S5;  Mtl621  =  Mk  831  =  Lit  932;  Mtl722.23  =  Mk  931  =  Lk 
9« :  Mt  201S-  i9=Mk  1033. 34  =  Lk  1832. 33.  As  early  as  the  close  of 
the  2nd  cent.  Celsus  stumbled  at  the  idea  that  Jesus  foreknew 
and  foretold  all  that  happened  to  Him  (Orig.  c.  Cels.  ii.  13). 

A  crucified  Messiah  was  '  to  Jews  a  stumbling-block  and  to 
Gentiles  foolishness '  (1  Co  123) ;  and  the  Apostles,  eager  to  re- 
move *  the  stumbling-block  of  the  Cross,'  represented  the  Cruci- 
fixion as  no  ignominious  catastrophe,  but  '  a  link  in  a  chain  of 
higher  knowledge,  part  of  a  Divine  plan  of  salvation.'  Keim,  on 
the  other  hand,  regards  the  announcement  as  '  the  expression 
of  a  natural,  reasonable,  correct  anticipation,'  suggested  by  the 
fate  of  the  Baptist  and  the  difficulties  wherewith  Jesus  was 
beset.  The  definite  details,  however,  must  be  pruned  away. 
In  point  of  fact,  the  Lord's  prescience  of  the  end  is  inextricably 
interwoven  with  the  Gospel  history.  The  cross  was  His  goal, 
and  He  knew  it  all  along. 

Literature. — In  addition  to  the  works  quoted  in  the  art.  and 
the  standard  Lives  of  Christ,  reference  may  be  made  to  Fair- 
bairn,  Studies  in  the  Life  of  Christ, '  The  Crucifixion ' ;  Nesvman, 
Selected  Sermons,  pp.  176-188;  Liddon,  Bampton  Lectfi  p. 
472ff. ;  Farrar,  Christ  in  Art,  pp.  389-423;  Dale,  AtommentT, 

p.  «6£f.  David  Smith. 

CRUSE.— The  word  occurs  frequently  in  the  OT 
(generally  as  rendering  of  Heb.  nnss),  where  it 
means  a  'small  earthen  bottle  or  jar'  in  common 
use  among  the  Hebrews  chiefly  for  holding  liquids, 
such  as  water  (1  S  26")  or  oil  (1  K  17'-).  '  Cruse' 
(marg.  'flask')  is  substituted  by  RV  for  'box'  of 
AV  in  Mt  26'  (||  Mk  14',  Lk  7")  as  the  designation 
of  the  dXti^SaffTpos  used  by  the  woman  who  anointed 
our  Lord.    See  Alabaster  and  Anointing. 

DuGALD  Clark. 

CRY — The  term  'cry'  occurs  in  the  NT  with 
various  shades  of  meaning  corresponding  to  different 
Greek  words,  which  express  sometimes  articulate, 
sometimes  inarticulate  utterances ;  in  some  eases 
it  connotes  strong  emotion,  in  others  a  more  or  less 
heightened  emphasis  is  all  that  is  expressed. 

According  to  classical  usage,  the  Gr.  terms  employed  in  the 
NT  may  be  thus  distinguished:  ' xjx.xi,.  denotes  "to  cry  out" 
for  a  purpose,  to  call ;  /3o£«,  to  cry  out  as  a  manifestation  of 
feehng;  xpi^u,,  to  crv  out  harshly,  often  of  an  inarticulate 
and  brutish  sound '  (Grimm-Thayer,  s.  i).  jlciii).  xpituyaivt  is  the 
intensive  of  xpotZ,itv.  The  corresponding  nouns  are  0o'-^,  *a  cry 
for  help,'  and  xiia.uyi,,  '  outcry,  clamour '  (both  rare  in  NT).  To 
these  should  be  added  the  use  of  fmriv  =  'ia  cry'  (most  freq. 

In  classifying  the  NT  usage  of  the  term,  it  will 
be  convenient  to  group  the  instances  in  each  case 
under  the  Greek  equivalents. 

*  In  the  LXX  version  of  Ps  9610  many  codices  add  i.-ri  ™5  iiUu 
after  o  K6„«  i;S.nis„».!,.    go  Old  Lat.  and  Copt,  versions.  Just. 
Mart.,  Tert.,  Aug.;  cf.  Venant.  Fortunat.  Uymn.  dc  Pass.  Dom.: 
'  Impleta  sunt  quae  concinit 
David  fldeli  carmine, 
Dicens :  In  nationibus 
.  „,  ,    .         Regnavit  a  ligno  Deus.' 

t  Chrysost.  m  Matth.  Ivii.:  rh  J««,  ?.  iuM,  ^>.r.pm,  i.  ■Upm- 

ITUX^IJ..     T.i-Tl^T,,,  Ti  !r«e«;^i  ri.  o-™^^«.     »i'™  ^i=  i^iri  XtL\li. 

ji.  «£,.    Euth.  Zi^  on  Mt  173  :  T„i  il  -.a,  fi.^xm,  cL  i|.S«  iAAi 

?«{««  ypufeuri.     Se|«  yStp  xaXdm  xni  i  rrciupi!. 


A.  (1)  'To  cry'or  'cry out'  (  =  Kpafcii',  di/o/c/)dfeiv) : 
(<«)  of  articttlate  cries,  followed  by  words  uttered 
(often  with  'saying'  or  'and  said'  added) :  of  joy, 
Mk  11«  and  il ;  Mt  21 1=  (chUdren  crying  in  the  temple, 
'  Hosanna') ;  of  complaint  or  distress,  Mk  10**  ||  Lk 
1833,  Mt,  2031  (Bartimaeus) ;  Mt  U^  (Peter  crying 
out  while  walkin"  on  the  water) ;  *  Mk  1=3 1|  Lk  4® 
{apcK/ia^ei' ;  Lk.  adds  '  with  a  loud  voice ') ;  Mk  9"*  ; 
Lk  4''i  (demons  crying  out  and  saying),  cf.  Mk  3" 
5'  ;  of  the  angry  cries  of  the  multitude,  Mt  27-^, 
Mk  1513- "  t  (cf.  Ac  2136) ;  in  ref.  to  Jesus,  of  solemn 
and  impressive  utterance,  Jn  7''  (cf.  V^  7-'*  12-"). 

(b)  of  inarticulate  cries :  withref.  to  the  possessed, 
Mk  5=  (cf.  Lk  828  ayaKpa^as) ;  Mk  9=«  ||  Lk  9=" ;  of 
the  disciples,  Mt  14-"  ('and  they  cried  out  for  fear') 
with  ref.  to  Jesus,  of  the  cry  on  the 
inarticulate),  Mt  27^^"  ('cried  .  . 
and  yielded  up  his  spirit'). J 

(2)  '  To  cry^  or  '  cry  out '  ( =  Kpavyi^civ) : 

(a)  of  articulate  utterances  [cf.  (1)  (a)]:  oi  joy, 
Jn  121^  ('  Ho.sanna') ;  of  distress,  Mt  IS-''  (Canaan- 
itish  woman  .  .  .  '  cried,  saying ' :  cf.  v.^) ;  u-ith 
ref.  to  Jesus,  of  utterance  under  strong  emotion, 
Jn  U''^  ('  Lazarus,  come  forth  !'). 

(6)  of  undefined  or  inarticulate  utterance :  in 
the  quotation  from  Is  42=,  cited  in  Mt  12'"  ('He 
shall  not  strive  nor  cry'  [K/jairydtrei],  i.e.  indulge  in 
clamorous  self-assertion). 

(c)  '  Cry '  =  Kpavy-q  :  '  the  loud  cry  of  deeply  stiiTed 
feeling  of  joyful  surprise':  Lk  1''=  (Elisabeth's 
greeting  of  the  Virgin-mother  :  '  she  lifted  up  her 
voice  with  a  loud  cry) ;  the  midnight  cry,  Mt  25*^ 
('  Behold  the  bridegroom  coraetli '). 

For  He  57  see  below  under  B. 

(3)  'To  cry'  or  'cry  out'  (=/io^v,  amjiofv,  iin- 
Poiv) : 

(a)  of  articulate  utterances :  of  solemn  and  im- 
pressive emphasis  (=to  speak  with  a  high,  strong 
voice),  Mt  33 II  Mk  P,  Lk  Z*,  Jn  l-^  (all  in  tlie 
quotation  from  Is  40^  'the  voice  of  one  crying,' 
etc.);  of  distressful  appeal,  Lk  Q^" ;  e-sp.  'to  cry 
for  help  to'  (  =  '7K  pvi  in  OT),  Lk  18'  (the  elect  who 
cry  day  and  night) ;  in  ref.  to  Jesus,  of  the  cry  of 
agony  on  the  cross  ('My  God,  my  God,'  etc.),  Mk 
15"  and  ||  Mt  27-'«. 


In  this  connexion  the  passage  in  Ja  5*  deserves  notice : 
'  Behold  the  hire  of  your  labourers  .  .  .  crieth  out  {xpaZ,u) ;  and 
the  cries  (fioni)  of  them  that  reaped  have  entered  into  the  ears 
of  the  Lord  of  Sabaoth.'  Here  the  verb  is  used  of  crying  for 
vengeance  (of.  Hab  2")  and  the  noun  (^o«.)  of  cries  for  help. 
The  latter  sense  is  esp.  frequent  in  the  Psalms(«.(7.  6'- 186. 41  etc.), 
corresponding  to  the  Heb.  yis*  and  derivatives.  This  word  is 
•used  exclusively  of  crying  for  help'  (Driver).?  Though  fre- 
quent in  the  Psalms  (LXX  and  Heb.),  it  occurs  rarely  in  the  NT. 

(6)  of  cries  of  joy,  jmin  (inarticulate):  of  joy. 
Gal  4^  (quotation  from  Is  54i) ;  cf.  of  pain,  Ac  8' 
(of  unclean  spirits  crying  with  a  loud  voice). 

(4)  'To  cry,'  'cry  out,'  or  '  cry  aloud '(  =  (/lumi', 
(TKpwpeiii)  : 

(a)  emphatic,  followed  by  words  uttered,  Lk 
8'-";  cf.  1''=  (a.iie<piiivq(rev,  'she  spake  out,'  AV  ; 
'  lifted  up  her  voice,'  RV) ;  of  angry  cries  of  multi- 
tude (enL<t>uvdv),  Lk  23='. 

(b)  of  the  inarticulate  cries  of  the  possessed, 
Mk  1=3  ('and  the  unclean  spirit  .  .  .  crying  with  a 
loud  voice '). 

((•)  'cry'  =  0ui'i),  esp.  in  the  phrase  <t>uvv  A^eTdXi;, 
'  with  a  loud  voice  or  cry,'  added  to  verbs. 

B.  'Crying'  in  He  5'.— This  passage,  which  has 
direct  reference  to  our  Lord,  calls  for  special  notice 
here  :  '  Who,  in  his  days  of  flesh,  having  offered 
up,  with  strong  crying  (/nera  Kpavyiji  tffxvpas)  and 

*  Probably  here  should  be  added  Mt  16=3  (■  she  crieth  after 
us '),  where  articulate  cries  seem  to  be  meant,  though  the  words 
uttered  are  not  given. 

t  In  II  passages  Lk  23=1  has  i-rtfmeuv  Xiyctni,  Jn  196  ixpi^it''"'" 

t  In  the  II  passages  Mk  1537  has  iftU  ^cn>  H-ty^f-r-',  andLk23-'ii 
§  Parallel  Psalter,  p.  441. 


CUBIT 


CUP 


was  able  to  save  him  out  of  death,'  etc.  The  ref. 
is  doubtless  primarily  to  Gethsemane  (so  Delitzsch, 
Westcott),  though  'a  wider  application  of  the 
words  to  other  prayers  and  times  of  peculiar  trial 
in  our  Lord's  life  is  not  excluded.  Schoettgen 
{ad  loc. )  t  quotes  a  Jewish  saying  which  strikingly 
illustrates  the  phrase :  '  There  are  three  kinds  of 
prayers,  each  loftier  than  the  preceding :  prayer, 
crying,  and  tears.  Prayer  is  made  in  silence  ;  cry- 
ing, with  raised  voice :  but  tears  overcome  all 
things.'  The  conjunction  of  the  terms  mentioned 
often  occurs  in  OT,  esp.  in  the  Psalms,  e.g.  Ps  39'^ : 

'  Hear  my  prayer,  O  Lord, 
And  give  ear  unto  my  cry  ('nyic) ; 
Hold  not  thy  peace  at  my  tears.' 
Also  Ps  6P,  and  cf.  Ps  80^  «. 

The  close  association  of  the  idea  of  prayer  with 
that  of  '  crying '  or  '  cry '  may  be  illustrated  from 
the  Gospels,  esp.  perhaps  in  the  case  of  our  Lord's 
cries  on  the  cross  (Mt  27*™,  Lk  23''*).  According 
to  Jewish  tradition,  in  the  solemn  prayer  for  for- 
giveness uttered  by  the  high  priest  on  the  Day  of 
Atonement  in  the  Holy  of  Holies,  the  words  kik 
nB3  cen  '  O  Lord,  forgive,'  were  spoken  with 
heightened  voice,  so  that  they  could  be  heard  at  a 
distance. 

Literature.— Art.  'Call'  in  Hastings'  DB  i.  343 f.,  and  the 
Gr.  Lexicons  under  the  various  Gr.  terms  (esp.  Grimm-Thaver). 

G.  H.  Box. 
CUBIT.— See  Age,  and  Weights  and  Measures. 

CDHUIN. — Cummin  (or  cumin)  is  the  seed  of 
the  Cumimim  cyminum,  an  annual  herbaceous 
umbellifer.  It  has  a  slender,  branching  stem, 
and  grows  to  the  height  of  a  foot.  The  seeds, 
which  are  ovoid  in  form,  are  strongly  aromatic, 
and  have  a  flavour  not  unlike  that  of  caraway,  but 
more  pungent.  Cummin  was  used  by  the  Jews  as 
a  condiment,  and  also  for  flavouring  bread.  It 
has  carminative  and  other  medicinal  properties, 
and  was  employed  not  only  as  a  remedy  for  colic, 
but  also  to  stanch  excessive  bleeding  and  to  allaj- 
swellings.  It  is  indigenous  to  Upper  Egj-pt  and  the 
Mediterranean  countries,  but  it  was  also  cultivated 
from  early  times  in  Western  Asia,  India,  and  China. 

Cummin  is  mentioned  t^nce  in  the  Bible  (Is  2S^'-'' 
103,  and  JIt  23=^  kviuvov).  In  the  latter  passage 
Jesus  rebukes  the  Pharisees,  because  they  paid 
tithe  of  mint,  and  anise,  and  cummin,  and  omitted 
the  weightier  matters  of  the  Law. 


CDP  (irorripiov,  in  general  significance  correspond- 
ing to  the  Heb.  Dis  and  so  used  in  the  LXX  ;  Vulg. 
equivalent  is  cctUx). 

1.  Literal. — A  few  references  to  the  cup  as  a 
vessel  in  common  use  occur  in  the  Gospels :  Mk 
7=-  *,  Mt  10*=  (  =  Mk  9*')  23=»-  =«  (  =  Lk  \l^).  The 
first  of  these  passages  is  plainly  an  explanatory 
parenthesis  furnished  by  the  Evangelist  for  the 
information  of  readers  unacquainted  with  Jt^wi^h 
customs.  iroT-iipia,  he  says,  are  anion^'st  thr  things 
subject  to  '  washings  '  ((SoTrno-Moi)— which  w[L>hiiij;s 
were  not  such  as  simple  cleanliness  required,  hut 
were  prescribed  by  the  decrees  •  intended  to  sepa- 
rate the  Jew  from  :ill  eujn.ict  with  the  GentUes.' 
The  Talmudic  tractuti/  K'li/n  names  seven  kinds 
of  things  requiring  such  ceremonial  purification, 
and  amongst  them  are  earthenware  vessels  and 
vessels  of  bone,  metal,  and  wood.  Resting  on  such 
Levitical  prescriptions  as  are  to  be  found  in  Lv 
11  and  Nu  31,  the  purification  of  vessels  was 
carried  to  the  furthest  extreme  of  stringent  re- 
quirement by  '  the  tradition  of  the  elders.'  Vessels 
tliat  had  in  any  way  come  into  contact  witli  the 
*  Westcott.  "  t  Cited  in  Westcott,  ib. 


common  people  (am  hd'drez)  were  on  that  account 
to  be  cleansed.  (Maimonides,  Vad.  Mishkab  and 
Moshab,  11.  11,  12,  18). 

The  words  of  Jesus  in  Mt  23^-  ^  are  simply  an 
instance  of  the  use  of  a  homely  figure  to  express 
hypocrisy. 

2.  Figurative.— OviX  Lord  uses  the  familiar  Heb. 
figure  of  a  '  cuj) '  to  denote  the  experience  of 
sorrow  and  anguish  in  two  instances  :  (1)  in  His 
challenge  to  James  and  John,  checking  their  am- 
bition (Mk  10=«-2i>  =  Mt  20-=--=,  'Are  ye  able  to 
drink  the  cup  which  I  drink  ? ')  ;  and  (2)  in  con- 
nexion with  His  Passion,  both  in  His  cry  of  agony 
(Mk  14»  II  in  Mt.  and  Lk.  '  this  cup '),  and  in  His 
calm  rebuke  of  Peter's  hasty  attempt  to  defend 
Him  against  His  captors  (Jn  18"  '  The  cup  which 
my  Father  hath  given  me,  shall  I  not  drink  it  ?  '). 
In  each  case  there  is  the  same  reference  to  His 
singular  experience  of  bitter  sorrow  which  was  no 
mere  '  bitterness  of  death.' 

It  is  noticeable  that  in  the  Gospels  the  use  of  this  figure 
occurs  only  in  connexion  with  trouble  and  suffering.  In  the 
OT  the  use  is  much  wider.  Experiences  of  joy,  blessing,  and 
comfort  are  thus  expressed  {e.g.  Ps  16^  23^  lie's,  Jer  Iff?),  as 
well  as  those  of  trembling,  desolation,  and  the  wrath  of  God 
(Is  51i7ff-,  Jer  2515'r-,  Ezk  2332ff.,  Zee  122).  Rabbinic  writers 
e-xhibit  the  figurative  use  of  '  cup '  for  trouble  and  anguish 
(Gesen.  Thes.  s.v.  DID).  The  kindred  expression,  'taste  the 
taste  of  death,"  Ls  also  to  be  met  with  (Buxtorf,  Lex.  s.v. 
DVa).  The  conception  of  death  as  a  bitter  cup  for  men  to 
drink  underlies  it.  (Note  the  Etymologicon  Magnum  gives 
ToTr.f,,,  .  .  .  ni^m,  xa.',  TO.  0«.«Te»).  Instances  of  this  phrase- 
oloery  in  the  Gospels  are  (in  the  words  of  Jesus)  Mk  91  (  =  ilt 
IfiSs)  and  (in  the  words  of  the  Jews)  Jn  852.     Cf.  also  He  2'. 

3.  In  the  institution  of  the  Lord's  Supper. — 
There  are  strong  inducements  to  see  in  the  cup  in 
the  Last  Supper  one  of  the  cups  which  had  a  place 
in  the  later  ceremonial  of  the  Paschal  feast.  But 
was  the  supper  the  usual  Passover  ?  This  is  a 
much-debated  question ;  but  on  the  whole  the 
weightier  considerations  seem  to  support  the  view 
presented  in  the  Fourth  Gospel,  the  account  in 
which  may  be  intended,  as  some  suggest,  to  cor- 
rect the  impression  given  by  the  Synoptics.  That 
is  to  say,  the  supper  was  not  the  Passover  proper, 
and  it  took  place  on  the  day  previous  to  that  on 
which  the  Passover  was  eaten.  It  might  still  be 
held  that  it  was  an  anticipatory  Passover.  St. 
Paul,  it  is  true,  speaks  of  the  Eucharistic  cup  as 
'  the  cup  of  blessing'  (1  Co  10'*),  and  one  is  inclined 
to  make  a  direct  connexion  with  the  third  cup  at 
the  Paschal  celebration,  which  was  kno^vn  as  the 
Cup  of  Benediction  (iriSD  Dis),  and  is  often  referred 
to  in  the  Talmudic  tractates  (e.g.  Berakhoth,  51a). 

Supper  w 
would  be  1 
ing  to  trace  three  out  of  the  four  Paschal  cups, 
viz.  the  one  mentioned  in  Lk  22",  the  one  common 
to  the  Synoptics — the  cup  of  blessing,  and  the 
fourth,  or  Hallel  cup,  suggested  by  vit-v-qaavTei  (Mk 
14=«=Mt  26'"),  taking  the  hymn  referred  to  a.s 
none  other  than  the  second  part  of  the  Hallel  (Pss 
115-118),  with  which  the  Pas.sover  was  usually 
closed.  Lk  22'^''-  -",  however,  is  not  above  sus- 
picion :  and  on  other  grounds  we  cannot  definitely 
connect  the  cup  of  the  institution  with  the  cere- 
monial of  the  Paschal  feast. 

But  the  cup  was  an  important  feature  in  other 
Jewish  festivals  and  solemn  seasons  besides  the 
Passover.  And  even  though  the  institution  took 
place  at  the  close  of  an  ordinary  meal,  the  bread 
and  the  cup  were  accompanied  with  the  due  Jewish 
graces  (Mt  26»"-,  Mk  U~'\  Lk  22"- '«),  and  in  the 
after-view  the  cup  thus  used,  and  with  such  signifi- 
cance, niight  well  stand  out  as  par  excellence  the 
Cup  of  .  ' 


If  St.  Luke's  account  of  the  Last  Supper  were  to 
be  received  without  question,  it  would  be  tempt- 


)  given  with  i 


The  words  of  Jesus  regarding  the  cup  ; 
noticeable  variation.      Mk.  gives  rourd  irti>  to  ocitto 
•r„«.ei.m!  tJ  ixxtmifiitc  i^if  ToXXi.  (U'ii) ;  and  Mt.  re 
this  ^\ith  but  slight  clianges,  possibly  of  a  liturgical  i 


CUP 


401 


St.  Ma 


Ex  24»-8.  St. 
«r,  (1  Co  11=^), 
as  compared 


(26^U  The  Konlirit,-  m  I  l  -i^'  , 
'blood,'  ivhilbt  ^--"'  ( '  :  I  I  1  ' 
interpolation,  clum  ,  i 
combining  the  furm  m  >  ,  I  i  il  \' 
solemn  expression, '  ur,  l.:>j  jil  ul  Uiu  ^ 
blood,'  can  be  exjjlaineil  only  by  i 
Paul's  phrase,  r  xa.„i,  h,«.0,r---yi .  .  .  i 
introduces  no  important  difference 

with  the  JIarkan  formula.  To  lay  stress  on  the  idea  ot  a  •  w-w 
covenant'  is  all  in  ket']Mnp  with  the  Pauline  standpoint.  One 
other  point  as  rejrards  the  words  of  the  institution  alone 
remains  to  he  mentioned.  As  with  the  bread  so  with  the  cup, 
St.  Paul  alone  represents  our  Lord  as  savinj^  tqZto  Totiitt  ti;  rr,v 
ifii>  ittxfi.r.r^v  (1  Co  ll-'-i'  -■).  Is  it  possible,  then,  that  no  per- 
manent sacramental  rite  was  contemplated  by  Jesus  in  doing 
what  He  did  at  the  Last  Supper?  Is  the  conception  of  a 
memorial  celebration  due  rather  to  St.  Paul  as  a  prime  factor 
in  the  development  of  Christianity?  Obviously  this  is  not  the 
place  to  deal  with  this  important  question,  and  the  attitude  of 
historical  criticism  respecting  it.  We  have  assumed  that  what 
took  place  at  the  Last  Supper  was 
Covenant,  Lord's  Supper. 


i.  In  the  Eucharist. — (1)  From  the  first  the  com- 
mon usage  in  administiation  no  doubt  gave  the 
cup  after  the  bread,  in  accordance  with  the  order 
observed  in  Mark,  Mattliew,  and  I'aul.  St.  Luke  in 
his  shorter  (and  better  supported)  account  (22""'*) 
exhibits  a  noticeable  divergence  in  placing  the  cup 
first  in  order.  This  may  be  due,  as  Wright  sug- 
gests (Si/nopsis  of  the  Gospels,  p.  140),  to  some  '  local 
Eucharistic  use.'  The  Diclaclie  (ch.  9)  also  puts 
tlie  cup  first ;  but  the  fact  as  to  the  general  estab- 
lished usage  remains  unaffected. 

(2)  As  to  the  cup  used  in  tlie  communion  there 
would  at  first  be  no  difference  between  it  and  such 
vessels  as  were  in  ordinary  use,  and  the  materials 
of  which  the  Eucharistic  vessels  were  made  were 
by  no  means  of  one  kind.  Zephyrinus  of  Rome,  a 
contemporary  of  Tertullian,  speaks  of  '  patens  of 
glass,'  and  Jerome  (c.  398  A.D.)  speaks  of  '  a  wicker 
basket '  and  '  a  glass '  as  in  use  for  communion 
purposes.  Cups  of  wood  and  of  horn  also  appear 
to  have  been  u.sed  in  some  cases.  We  find  certain 
provincial  councils  in  the  8th  and  9th  cents,  pro- 
hibiting the  use  of  such,  and  also  of  leaden  vessels. 
Cups  were  sometimes  made  of  pewter  ;  and  bronze, 
again,  was  commonly  used  by  the  Irish  monks,  St. 
Gall  preferring  vessels  of  this  material  to  those  of 
silver.  At  the  same  time  the  natural  tendency  to 
differentiate  in  regard  to  vessels  devoted  to  such  a 
special  service  must  have  begun  soon  to  manifest 
itself.  Where  it  was  possible,  at  an  early  period 
the  cup  was  made  of  rich  materials,  such  as  gold 
and  silver.  Similarly  as  regards  form  and  orna- 
mentation. Tertullian  (dc  Piidicitia,  10)  speaks 
of  the  cup  as  being  adorned  with  the  figure  of  the 
Good  Shepherd.  In  the  course  of  time  we  get 
chalices  of  great  price  and  wonderful  workman- 
ship, corresponding  to  the  rare  and  costly  Passover 
and  other  festal  cups  which  Jews  similarly  cherish 
as  art  treasures. 

It  is  needless  to  mention  particularly  the  several 
kinds  ot  chalices  which  came  to  be  distinguished 
as  the  Eucharistic  rites  were  made  more  elaborate. 
Our  own  times,  again,  it  may  just  be  noticed,  have 
given  us  the  'individual  coiiimunion  cup,'  wliich, 
on  hygienic  grounds,  finds  favour  in  some  quarters. 
Though  in  some  respects  a  modern  institution, 
perhaps  it  may  claim  a  precedent  in  the  most 
primitive  usage.  The  u.^ie  of  separate  cups  miglit 
be  inferred  from  1  Co  11'"'^  Nor  is  the  hygienic 
objection  to  the  common  chalice  wholly  new.  The 
difficulty  was  felt  in  mediaeval  times  when  the 
plague  was  so  rife.  In  the  14th  cent,  special  '  pest- 
chalices'  were  in  use  for  sick  cases. 

(3)  The  custom  of  mixing  water  with  the  wine 
m  the  chalice,  to  which  Justin  Martyr  makes  a 
v-ell-known  reference  {Apnl.  i.  67),  accords  with 
Jewish  precedent.  Speaking  of  the  Jewish  use, 
I.ightfoot  {Hot:  Heb.  on  Mt  26=')  says,  '  Hence  in 
the  rubric  of  the  feasts,  when  mention  is  made  of 
the  wme  they  always  use  the  word  mizgu,  they  mix 

vol..  I.— 26 


for  him  the  cup.'  Maimonides  (Jltimcz  uiiiaz.  7,  8) 
assumes  the  use  of  water.  If  the  cup  our  Lord 
gave  to  His  disciples  were  one  of  the  ceremonial 
Paschal  cups,  we  may  take  it  that  it  contained  a 
mixture  of  water  and  wine.  And  if  it  were  not, 
nothing  is  more  likely  than  that  the  Apostles,  in 
observing  the  rite,  would  follow  the  Jewish  custom 
of  mixture.  A  passage  in  the  Talmud  (Bab. 
Bcrakhoth,  50,  2)  suggests  that  water  was  thus 
added  to  the  wine  for  the  sake  of  wholesomeness 
and  in  the  interests  of  sobriety. 

In  the  course  of  time  various  fanciful  suggestions  came  to 
be  made  as  to  a  symbolic  purpose  in  connexion  with  the  mixed 
chalice  in  the  Eucharist,  ignoring  its  simple  origin  in  an  earlier 
Jewish  custom.  Thus  it  was  variously  held  that  in  this  way 
the  union  of  Christ  and  the  faithful  was  signified ;  that  the 
water  from  the  rock  was  represented ;  that  the  water  and 
the  blood  from  the  pierced  side  of  the  Crucified  were  com- 
memorated. At  last  It  was  affirmed  that  the  water  was  added 
to  the  cup  'solely  for  significance':  and  so  the  addition  of  a 
very  small  quantity  of  water  (a  small  spoonful)  came  to  be  con- 
sidered sufficient.  '  One  drop  is  as  significant  as  a  thousand ' 
(Bona,  Rer.  Liturg.  11.  ix.  note  3— 'Cum  vero  aqua  mysterii 
causa apponatur  vel minima  guttasufflciensest'). 

(4)  Was  wine  from  the  first  invariably  used  and 
regarded  as  obligatory  in  the  Eucharist  ?  Harnack 
('Brod  u.  Wasser,'  TU  vii.  [1892])  holds  that  it 
was  not  so  up  to  the  3rd  cent.,  and  traces  the 
use  of  bread  and  water  (but  see,  in  reply,  Zahn, 
'  Brod  u.  VVein,'  ib.  ;  Jiilicher's  es.say  in  thcol.  Ah- 
handlungen ;  and  Grafe,  ZThK  v.  2).  It  would 
be  difficult  to  maintain  that  the  genius  of  tlie 
sacrament  vitally  depended  on  the  use  of  wine ; 
but  in  its  favour  we  have  the  great  preponder- 
ance of  custom  and  sentiment.  In  modern  times 
there  are  those  who,  for  one  reason  and  another, 
feel  a  difficulty  regarding  communion  wine,  and 
are  disposed  to  use  substitutes  of  some  kind. 
Such  might  be  disposed  to  welcome  a  sort  of 
jjrecedent  in  the  use  permitted  by  Jewish  regula- 
tions in  certain  cases  as  regards  their  festival  cups. 
In  northern  countries,  e.g.,  where  wine  was  not 
accessible  as  a  daily  beverage  for  the  mass  of  the 
Jews,  syrup,  juice  of  fruits,  beer  or  mead,  etc.,  are 
named  as  instances  of  allowable  substitutes.  Such 
substitutes  are  curiously  included  under  the  com- 
mon appellation  'the  wine  of  the  country.'  (See 
Shidhrni'Arukh,  0 rah  Hag.  182.  1,  2). 

(5)  The  withholding  of  the  cuj)  from  the  laity  in 
.the  Communion,  which  came  into  vogue  in '  the 
Western  Church,  and  is  still  a  Koman  Catholic 
usage,  may  be  briefly  referred  to.  It  is  admitted  by 
Komish  authorities  that  communion  in  both  kinds 
was  the  primitive  custom  for  all  communicants. 
Cardinal  Bona,  e.g.,  says:  'It  is  certain,  indeed, 
that  in  ancient  times  all  without  distinction,  clergy 
and  laity,  men  and  women,  received  the  sacred 
mysteries  in  both  kinds '  (iv'cr.  Liturg.  11.  xviii.  1). 
The  practice  of  withholding  the  cup  does  not  come 
into  view  before  the  12th  century.  Tlie  danger  of 
efi'usion  was  ofi'ered  as  a  reason  for  it.  Short  of 
this,  as  an  expedient  against  effusion,  we  find 
slender  tubes  (/6-<!«te)  or  quills  brought  intense,  the 
communicants  drawing  the  wine  from  the  chalice 
by  suction.  Another  intermediate  stage  towards 
communion  in  one  kind  was  the  practice  of  intinc- 
tion,  i.e.  administering  to  the  peojde  the  bread 
dipped  in  the  wine.  This  practice,  however,  was 
condemned  in  the  West,  but  it  remains  as  the 
custom  of  the  Eastern  Church  still,  the  sacred  ele- 
ments in  this  form  being  administered  to  the  laity 
with  a  spoon  {\a^is).  Ultimately  the  rule  of  com- 
munion in  one  kind  was  ordained  in  the  West  by 
a  decree  of  the  Council  of  Constance  in  1415  ;  and 
the  reason  assigned  for  the  decree  was  tliat  it 
was  '  to  avoid  certain  perils,  inecniveniences,  and 
scandafs.'  Tiiis  momentous  change,  however,  was 
not  brought  about  without  much  demur  and  oiiposi- 
tion.  Tlie  decree  of  Constance  itself  did  not  im- 
mediately .and  universally  take  efi'ect ;  for  after  tliis 


402 


CURES 


time  tliere  -were  even  in  Home  cases  \vliere  the  cup 
■was  administered.  The  great  Hussite  movement 
in  Bohemia,  contemporaneous  with  the  Council  of 
Constance  itself,  ottered  determined  opposition  to 
the  withdrawal  of  the  cup  ;  and  the  kindred  Utra- 
quist  Communion  in  that  country  continued  for 
two  centuries  t  lieir  protest  as  Catholics  wlio  claimed 
the  celebration  of  the  Lord's  Supper  in  both  kinds, 
after  the  primitive  usage.  The  badge  of  the  Utra- 
quists,  a  large  chalice  together  witli  a  sword — 
significant  conjunction  ! — bespoke  the  sternness  of 
the  conflict. 

Wliat  really  lay  at  the  root  of  tliis  prohibition 
of  the  cup  was  the  tremendous  dogma  of  tran- 
suhstantiation,  with  all  its  implicates,  togetlier 
with  a  hardening  of  the  distinction  between  the 
clergy  and  the  people.  The  growth  of  this  Euchar- 
istic  custom  proceeded  pari  passu  with  tlie  de- 
velopment of  the  dogma.  Naturally,  therefore, 
the  restoration  of  the  cup  to  the  people  was  a 
necessary  part  of  the  Reformation  claim.  It  is 
also  worthy  of  remembrance  that  even  in  the  Tri- 
dentine  Council  there  were  not  wanting  Romanist 
advocates  of  this  as  well  as  other  reforms  ;  but  '  no 
compromise '  counsels  prevailed,  and  the  rule  in  its 
fullest  rigidity  was  reallirmed. 

How  strange  to  look  back  over  tlie  welter  of 
controversy  and  the  many  saddening  developments 
connected  witli  but  this  one  point  of  Eucharistic 
observance,  away  to  that  simple  evening  -  meal 
wliich  took  place  '  in  the  same  night  that  he  was 
betrayed ' !  J.  S.  CLEMENS. 

CURES The  details  of  medical  knowledge  pos- 
sessed by  tlie  Jews  of  our  Lord's  time  and  of 
current  medical  practice  can  only  be  gathered 
piecemeal  from  various  sources,  and  relate  largely 
to  what  is  known  of  these  in  OT  and  in  post- 
Biblical  times.  It  Is  not  unreasonable  to  believe 
that  from  these  sources  one  can  with  fair  accuracy 
gather  what  was  the  knowledge  and  practice  of 
our  Lord's  own  generation.  In  the  NT  references 
are  made  to  physicians  in  Mt  5™,  Lk  8".  Tlie 
value  of  diet  and  the  use  of  oil  and  wine  in  cases 
of  bodily  injury  are  indirectly  referred  to  in  Lk 
gsb  jyj4_  Visitation  of  the  sick  is  a  Christian 
virtue,  and  was  warmly  commended  by  Jesus  (Jit 
2536.43)^  in  terms  implying  that  it  was  practised; 
but  the  Talmud,  which  also  recognizes  the  virtue, 
makes  an  exception  in  cases  where  visitation  might 
aggravate  the  disorder.  The  balm  of  Gilead  had 
an  ancient  reputation  for  healing  virtue,  and  the 
Pools  of  Siloam  and  Bethesda  and  the  springs  at 
Tiberias  and  Callirrhoe  were  reputed  to  be  cura- 
tive. Medical  theory  among  the  Jews  \\as  almost 
entirely  borrowed  empirically,  and  no  systim  of 
medical  training  and  education  existed  in  Pales- 
tine in  Bible  times.  Prevention  of  disease  by 
sanitary  precautions  was  more  emphasized,  and  it 
has  even  been  suggested  th;it  the  whole  Levitical 
legislation  was  based  upon  hygienic  considerations, 
so  far  as  these  were  understood.  The  priestly 
class  were  the  depositaries  of  such  medical  know- 
ledge as  was  possessed,  although  Solomon  is  said 
to  liave  known  about  the  use  of  drugs,  and  various 
references  in  the  Talmud  attribute  to  him  a  book 
of  cures  whicli  was  said  to  have  been  withdrawn 
from  tlie  people  by  Hezekiah. 

In  tlie  time  of  Jesus  medical  pvnclltionprs  would 
be  in  possession  of  such  iinMiirii  !,,,■  .i  \i  as  held 
and  practised  in  former  gi n'  i;-  i  .  ,<l  would 
therefore  be  familiar  with  il-  ii  <.i  i  iwifery, 
and  possibly  had  attained  to  ■  nn-hi^  i  iMc  ^k^ll  jn 
its  practice,  though  there  are  few  references  to 
surgical  operations.  Probably  an  aversion  existed 
to  surgery,  as  to  the  practice  of  bleeding,  on 
account  of  the  national  belief  concerning  the  blood  ; 
but  later  this  aversion  was  overcome,  and  Jewish 


jiliysicians  fell  into  line  with  the  leading  classical 
.■^iliools,  which  freely  employed  bleeding  as  a 
remedy.  The  Talmud  (c.gr.  Bckhoroth,  45« ;  Hazii; 
S'2b)  licars  witness  to  some  anatomical  knowledge 
possessed  by  post-Biblical  practitioners,  and  from 
this  and   other  Rabbinical  sources  the  common 


maxims  of  the  physicians,  and  indications  of  their 
principles  and  methods,  may  be  not  obscurely 
learned.  The  Talmud  mentions  myrrh,  aloes, 
cassia,  frankincense,  cinnamon,  spikenard,  and 
camphire  as  having  medicinal  properties.  Dietetic 
rules  and  sanitary  regulations  were  also  carefully 
enjoined,  and  many  bodily  disorders  were  treated 
by  homely  remedies.  AVunderbar  {I.e.  infra)  gives 
examples  of  the  application  of  drugs  and  the  like 
to  various  ailments,  but  also  plainlj'  shows  that 
occult  methods,  involving  astrology,  and  the  wear- 
ing of  parchment  amulets  or  charms,  were  with 
more  contidence  prescribed.  Various  incantations 
were  in  use  to  prevent  miscarriage,  and  to  ward 
oft'  the  machinations  of  evil  spirits  from  the  cradle 
of  the  newborn.  Drugs  and  magic  were,  in  fact, 
generally  employed,  the  chief  reliance  being  placed 
on  the  latter. 

With  these  methods  our  Lord's  action  in  the 
healing  of  disease  liad  no  affinity.  Necromantic 
or  superstitious  observances  were  entirely  foreign 
to  His  spirit.  He  never  taught  that  sicknesses 
were  tlie  result  of  the  action  of  evil  spirits  [on  Lk 
11'"^-  see  below,  and  art.  Impotence].  And  it  is 
equally  clear  that  He  had  no  recourse  to  such 
medical  knowledge  as  was  familiar  to  the  physi- 
cians of  His  time,  and  that  He  was  not  endowed 
Avith  knowledge  of  disease  and  of  the  curative  art 
in  advance  of  His  own  generation.  In  the  cures 
recorded  in  the  Gospels  He  employs  nothing  be- 
yond His  word,  addressed  either  to  the  patient  or 
to  a  parent  or  friend,  and  sometimes  a  touch. 
For  use  of  saliva,  see  art.  Sight.  The  method  of 
Jesus  must  be  sought  on  an  entirely  ditferent  line. 

In  every  process  of  healing,  whether  in  the  time 
of  Jesus  or  in  our  own  day,  there  are  two  ele- 
ments :  the  physical,  and  the  mental  or  psychical. 
On  the  one  hand,  the  disturbing  and  enteebling 
causes,  functional  or  organic,  in  the  bodily  tissues 
and  organs,  are  gradually  removed  by  the  action 
of  drugs  or  other  medical  treatment.  On  the 
other,  a  new  tone  and  vigour  are  restored  to  tlie 
unseen  and  intangible  but  essentially  real  '  life '  of 
the  patient.  The  two  are  most  intimately  and 
vitally  connected  with  each  other,  and  neither 
element  can  be  ignored.  Mind  and  body  are 
mutually  interpenetrative,  and  although  the  rela- 
tions between  them  are  in  many  respects  still  pro- 
foundly obscure,  yet  advancing  knowledge  only 
makes  more  certain  what  is  already  firmly  estab- 
lished, that  this  interdependence  and  mutual 
influence  are  of  the  closest  character.  The  uncer- 
tain and  incalculable  element  in  every  sickness  or 
feebleness,  passing  beyond  all  power  to  adequately 
diagnose,  is  the  psychical.  The  physical  condition 
may  clearly  point  to  a  particular  issue  of  the  in- 
firmity— recovery  or  death— and,  so  far  as  the  physi- 
cal goes,  this  might  be  determined  with  consider- 
able  accuracy ;  but  the  action  of  the  incalculable 
element  remains,  cannot  be  predicted,  and  may 
produce  most  surprising  results.  These  are  matters 
of  common  knowledge,  and  amount  to  common- 
places. But  they  must  be  steadily  borne  in  mind 
when  cases  of  restoration — those  in  process  to-day, 
and  those  recorded  in  the  Gospels — are  considered. 


The  action  of  Jesus  was  upon  the  complex  per- 
iuality,  body  and  spirit,  but  upon  the  body 
lirough  the  spirit.     His  power  went  directly  to 


the  central  life,  to  the  man,  the  liWng  person,  and 
this  may  be  traced  in  all  His  dealing  with  disease 
and  iniirmity  both  of  body  and  of  mind  (sei 
Lunatic).     Tlie  Divine  power  was,  through  Hi 


CURES 


CURES 


403 


life,  at  one  ■with  itself,  brouglit  to  bear  witli  living 
energy  on  the  unseen  springs  of  the  being.  Con- 
sideration of  the  actual  phenomena  of  our  Lord's 
working  in  the  restoring  of  the  sick  -will  make 
these  facts  more  manifest. 

1.  Our  LorcTs  oivn  dependence  upon  the  Divine 
power. — Not  only  did  He  declare  this  close,  trust- 
ful dependence  (Jn  5'»-»  8=8  iqm-sj-st.ss  1410)^  |,ut 
it  is  evinced  spontaneoiisly  in  His  action  (Mk  7", 
Jn  ll'"-'=).  The  customary  association  of  prayer 
with  His  works  of  healing'was  proof  of  His  utter- 
most dependence  upon  God.  The  power  of  prayer, 
which  He  marked  as  the  condition  of  all  human 
victory,  He  indicates  as  vital  also  to  His  own 
action  (Mk  9-").  The  prayer  He  desiderates  is  no 
slack  and  formal  petitioning  of  a  far-distant  Peity, 
but  a  close  absorption  of  life  in  a  very-jirest'iit 
Helper.  And  this  was  the  quality  of  our  Lord's 
own  dependence  upon  God.  He  cherished  tlie 
largest  e.xpectations  from  the  power  of  the  Living 
God,  of  wliich  He  was  so  conscious.  He  felt  tlie 
throbbing  in  His  own  life  of  that  Mighty  Will  and 
Love  which  animated  all  being,  and  therefore  He 
intimated  that  the  true  value  of  prayer,  for  Him- 
self and  for  mankind,  was  that  it  established  in 
man  a  close  sympathy  with,  and  an  absolute  de- 
pendence upon,  tlie  (Source  of  all  healing  and  life. 

2.  His  healings  were  an  expression  of  intcnscst 
sympathy  tvith  snjf'crinij  humanity.  Compassion 
was  the  moving  cause  of  many  of  His  beneficent 
actions  (Mt  W-  20**,  Mk  8=,  Lk  7").  True  sym- 
pathy is  a  mighty  human  energy  in  wliich  the 
Divine  power  is  at  work,  and  even  on  tlie  lower 
levels  of  our  feeble  jiersonal  force  it  has  a  con- 
tinuous tendency  towards  healing.  Experience 
multiplies  the  evidence  of  this  fact  as  the  years 
pass.  And  we  are  led  to  conceive  in  some  measure 
the  vast  resources  of  power  in  the  full  compassion 
of  Him  who  was  morally  one  with  the  Source  of 
all  love  and  pity.  His  syiiijiathy  was  never  viti- 
ated or  weakened  bj'  personal  imperfection,  and  so 
it  possessed  the  jjower  of  self-identification  with 
God  and  man.  The  healing  of  the  Issue  of  Blood 
{see  article)  shows  that  this  sympathy  with  dis- 
tressed humanity  worked  even  apart  from  His 
direct  will. 

3.  His  conviction  that  disease  and  suffering  were 
not  part  of  the  right  and  natural  order  of  things. 
This  feature  is  seen  in  all  His  actions,  but  found 
its  clearest  expression  in  the  case  of  the  woman 
who  could  in  no  wise  lift  up  herself  (Lk  13"-"j 
(see  Impotence).  '  Ought  not  this  woman,  being  a 
daughter  of  Abraham,  whom  Satan  hath  bound,  lo 
these  eighteen  years,  to  have  been  loosed  from  this 
bond  on  the  day  of  the  Sabbath  ? '  In  addition  to 
our  Lord's  antagonism  to  the  pedantry  and  inliu- 
manity  of  His  critics,  the  underlying  note  is  heard 
that  humanity  ought  not  to  be  held  in  bonds  of 
sickness  and  infirmity.  Disease  and  sufi'ering  and 
untimely  death  are  not  part  of  tlie  natural,  i.e.  the 
right  and  Divine,  order  of  things.  And  all  the 
power  of  rijihtis  on  the  side  of  those  who  labour 
to  set  man  free  aii.l  to  i-nalile  Iiim  to  stand  erect  in 
body,  mind,  and  soul  before  (Jod  and  his  fellows. 

4.  A  clear  feature  in  our  Lonl's  healings  was  i/i* 
sense  of  the  need  of  dealing  with  the  sin  vhich  often 
lay  at  the  root  of  the  sichness  and  injirmity.  Jesus 
very  carefully  guards  against  the  unwarranted 
assumption  made  by  the'friends  of  Job,  and  by 
the  disciples  (Jn  9=),  that  sin  was  the  secret  cause 
of  all  suttering  and  pain.  Other  and  Diviner 
reasons  might  account  for  much  of  the  depriva- 
tion f",!'!  trouble  of  man  (Jn  9-').  But  in  two  cases 
(Mk  2'-'",  Jn  5>^)  He  not  obscurely  marks  the  sin 
as  the  deepest  cause  of  the  weakness  (see  artt. 
}  AKALY.sis  and  Impotence).  Sin  is  the  violation 
of  the  whole  nature  of  man,  body,  mind,  soul,  as 
well  as  disobedience  to  tlie  Holy  \\i\\  of  tiod.     It 


depresses  the  springs  of  personal  vitality,  and  there- 
fore continually  makes  for  sickness  and  feebleness 
of  body. 

5.  Faith  was  required  on  the  jmrt  of  the  one  to  he 
liealed.  Faith  must  be  clearly  distinguished  from 
mental  assent  and  from  credulity;  which  vainly 
arrogate  to  themselves  that  august  word.  Faitli, 
as  Jesus  conceived  it,  was  the  noblest  actiiaty  of 
man's  being,  the  triumphant  assertion  of  the 
essential  and  Divine  part  of  his  nature  against 
all  that  dwarfs,  disfigures,  and  oppresses  it,  and 
this  faith  our  Lord  most  keenly  desired  to  see. 
The  absence  of  it,  even  the  fear  of  its  absence, 
chilled  and  dismayed  His  spirit  (Jn  4^",  Mk  9~-3 
KV).  He  marks  faith  as  the  truly  favourable 
condition  for  His  healing  power  to  be  efficacious 
(Mt  <i-\  Mk  10^-,  Lk  n'"  18",  Jn  ^\  Apparent 
exceptions  to  this  connexion  between  healing  and 
faith  ni.ay  be  traced  in  Mt  9'-s  12«-",  Lk  13"""  U'-^ 
ooso-si,  but  in  all  these  cases  the  details  are  not 
reported,  the  fact  of  the  healing  being  in  these 
instances  less  prominent  than  other  features  of  the 
narrative,  such  as  the  controversy  of  Jesus  with 
the  cold  critics  in  the  synagogue,  and  the  personal 
characteristics  of  the  Saviour  in  His  beneficent 
action  with  respect  to  Malchus.  It  has  also  been 
thought  that  demoniacs  as  such  were  incapacitated 
from  the  exercise  of  faith  in  Jesus.  But  while 
this  is  in  part  true,  it  is  significant  that  our  Lord 
does  in  these  instances  seek  to  gain  access  to  the 
true  personality  and  to  set  it  free  from  the  oppres- 
sion of  all  alien  powers  (see  LUNATIC). 

6.  Jesus  laboured  to  produce  this  faith. — Not 
only  does  He  ask  for  it  as  a  condition  of  healing, 
but  He  spends  Himself  in  the  effort  to  evoke  it. 
His  careful  treatment  of  the  blind  man  (Mk  8~"'<'), 
the  deaf  and  dumb  (Mk  7^'""),  the  blind  and  im- 
potent (Jn  9'-'  and  5«)  is  best  understood  as  the 
effort  of  our  Lord  to  produce  the  essential  condi- 
tions of  receiving  His  healing  ^•irtue.  In  each  case 
the  means  used,  as  well  as  the  words  spoken,  are 
adapted  to  the  particular  case.  We  have  not  one 
set  of  means  used  indiscriminately.  The  ears  and 
the  tongue  of  the  deaf-mute  are  touched,  the  blind 
man  in  one  case  is  led  out  of  the  town,  saliva  is 
ajiplied  to  his  eyes,  and  the  touch  of  the  Lord's 
hand ;  in  the  other  the  eyes  are  anointed  and  the 
patient  is  sent  to  a  distant  pool  in  the  exercise  of 
faith.  The  labour  is  to  set  free  the  patient  from 
all  unnatural  conditions  of  mind  and  spirit  and 
from  hopelessness,  which  is  the  most  unnatural  of 
all  to  men  to  whom  God  is  so  near. 

This  effort  in  Jesus  produced  weariness.  It 
involved  a  deep  expenditure  of  nervous,  physical, 
and  spiritual  energy,  and  often  in  the  Gospels  we 
read  of  the  spent,  tired  worker  seeking  refresh- 
ment in  rest  and  in  solitude,  and  most  of  all  in 
fellowship  with  God,  '  He  went  out  into  the 
mountain  to  pray'  (Mt  14=»,  Mk  6^«,  Lk  6'-). 

7.  Several  of  our  Lord's  cures  were  tcroughf 
while  He  was  at  a  distance  from  the  patient :  the 
Syro-Phoenician's  daughter  (Mt  15-'-=",  Mk  7""'°), 
the  nobleman's  .son  (Jn  4**"°^),  and  the  centurion's 
servant  (Mt  8="",  Lk  7'-'").  Difficulty  is  felt  by 
many  on  the  ground  that  the  power  of  a  unique 
personality  which  they  acknowledge  in  Jesus 
could  not  be  active  in  these  cases.  Dr.  Abbott 
discusses  the  third  instance  (Kernel  and  Husk, 
Letter  18),  and,  excluding  any  '  bond  fide  miracle,' 
he  inclines  to  regard  the  story  as  due  to  an  exag- 
geration or  to  the  influence  of  the  knowledge  of 
his  friend's  intercession  with  Jesus,  'with  a  senti- 
mental reserve  in  favour  of  brain-wave  sympathy.' 
Since  the  time  Dr.  Abbott  wrote,  telepathy  has 
become  a  recognized  fact  in  psychical  research, 
and  we  have  no  need  to  deny  its  possible  action  in 
these  cases.  But  the  explanation  given  of  all  His 
works  by  our  Lord  goes  beneath  all  such  conjee- 


404 


CURES 


CURSE 


tures  and  hypotheses.  He  ascribed  His  healing  to 
the  Divine  iiower  with  which  He  was  able  to  bring 
men  into  living  communication.  That  Divine  all- 
l)ervading  Life  which  informed  His  humanity  was 
not  at  a  distance  from  any  human  life.  Space  and 
Time  are  to  the  Inlinite  Power  non-existent,  and 
only  our  bondage  to  the  limited  human  ideas  can 
present  any  ditticulty. 

8.  In  the  three  above  cases  and  in  the  case  of  the 
demoniac  boy  (Mt  17"-=',  Mk  g^-^s,  Lk  9^"*=)  our 
Lord  sig'uifieantly  seeks  the  co-ojjeration  of  parent 
and  friend  in  the  work  of  liealing  ;  and  the  fact  is 
most  significant  of  the  closeness  of  human  sym- 
pathy, and  most  of  all  of  that  most  vital  and 
mysterious  sympathy  lying  in  the  life-bond  be- 
tween parent  and  child,  and  the  intimate  depend- 
ence of  these  ties  upon  the  life-giving  power  of 
the  Almighty.  Tliese  deep-lying  sympathies  that 
bind  parents  to  their  own  ofl'spring  are  essentially 
allied  to  the  Divine  power.  They  'consist'  by  its 
indwelling,  and  Jesus  desires  this  power  to  be 
informed  by  a  living  faith,  and  so  be  at  once  at 
its  highest  point  of  energy  and  also  in  living  union 
with  God. 

9.  In  some  of  the  cures  effected  by  Jesus  a 
process  is  observable  in  tlie  recovery.  The  noble- 
man's son  was  first  set  free  from  the  fever,  and 
from  tliat  decisive  time  began  '  to  amend.'  The 
crisis  was  safely  passed,  and  the  rest  was  left  to 
nature's  gentle  action.  The  Syro  -  Pha;nician's 
daughter  was  delivered  from  her  besetment  and 
left  '  thrown  upon  the  bed,'  physically  prostrate, 
and  requiring  rest  and  care.  The  daughter  of 
Jairus  was  ordered  rest  and  food,  and  the  blind 
man  at  Bethsaida  was  only  by  degrees  restored  to 
perfect  sight.  These  indications,  casually  given, 
and  probably  not  understood  by  the  narrators, 
lead  us  to  think  that  a  similar  process  would  be 
manifest  in  the  other  cures  were  they  fully  and 
adequately  reported,  and  it  is  always  a  salutary 
reminder  that  our  Gospels  are  only  most  frag- 
mentary. It  was  a  principle  of  Jesus  not  to  do 
anything  by  extraordmary  which  could  be  accom- 
plished by  ordinary  means. 

10.  The  healing  power  of  Jesus  went  out  freehi 

anion       "  '"    '  ' ""     ""  "  •■■"■>■' 

15'  _     .   _ 

tagious  influence  of  a  multitude,  in  producing  an 
atmosphere  in  which  remarkable  psychical  plieno- 
mena  are  manifest  and  the  result  is  seen  in  heal- 
ing of  the  sick,  is  not  uncommonly  recognized 
in  modern  times.  In  tliis  way  are  explained  the 
miracles  of  which  some  genuine  cases  undoubtedly 
happened  around  the  tomb  of  Becket,  tlie  healings 
that  are  associated  with  Lourdes,  and  many  of  the 
similar  results  that  we  may  believe  were  gathered 
round  famous  saints  like  St.  Francis  of  Assisi  and 
St.  Theresa.  A  contagion  of  expectation  is  initi- 
ated and  spreads  rapidly  through  a  whole  country- 
side, and  this  condition  of  expectation  and  hope  is 
one  which  the  most  prosaic  science  recognizes  as 
favourable  to  the  pioouctiun  of  real  cures,  especi- 
ally of  ailments  a  large  cliMnent  of  whicli  is  nervous. 
We  have  seen  that  the  workini'  of  Jesus  did  not 
disdain  to  utilize  tliese  and  all  otlier  forces  in 
human  nature  which  make  for  healing ;  and  by 
reason  of  His  unique  and  perfect  alliance  with  the 
Divine  Source  of  all  life  and  healtli,  He  was  able 
to  bring  instantaneous  and  permanent  relief  and 
restoration  to  whole  companies  of  sufferers. 

11.  Our  Lord's  method  has  coiunderable  affinity 
with  modern  medical  scieiu:e.  The  power  of  the 
mind  over  bodily  ailments,  in  the  maintenance  and 
restoration  of  liealth,  is  being  increasingly  ac- 
knowledged. D'-.  Schofield  says  truly  that  most 
remedies,  if  not  all,  are  partly  psychical  in  their 

Not  only  such  prescriptions  as  changt 


ag  the  suffering  multitude  (Mt  S'^^-^'U' 
SI,  Mk  1'"-^  6»-'«,  Lk  4^"- «  9").     The  con- 


operation 
of  occupat 


a,  environment,  and  climate,  physical 


and  mental  shocks  and  emotional  incentives,  eth- 
ical and  religious  influences,  travel,  study,  ambi- 
tion and  social  influences,  but  also  drugs,  changes 
of  diet,  baths  and  waters,  minor  operations,  depend 
much  for  their  efficacy  on  their  psychical  action  ; 
while  the  personality  of  the  doctor— in  some  cases 
the  unintelligibility  of  his  prescription  and  the 
magnitude  of  his  fee — are  valuable  therapeutic 
agents.  In  this  way  full  recognition  is  given  to 
tlie  influence  of  any  power  which  can  set  free  the 
mind  from  its  hopeless  condition,  its  lethargy  and 
depression,  as  a  most  potent  force  in  the  work  of 
healing.  Schmiedel  (art.  '  Gospels '  in  Encyc. 
Bibl.)  says  of  our  Lord's  miracles:  'It  is  only 
permissible  to  regard  as  historical  that  class  of 
healings  which  present-day  phy.sicians  are  able  to 
ett'ect  Dy  psychical  methods.'  But  he  overlooks 
the  influence  of  mental  action  in  the  cure  of  all 
kinds  of  disease,  and  not  only  of  mental  diseases  to 
which  the  above  observations  point. 

Psychical  methods,  intelligently  and  of  set  pur- 
pose applied  to  the  cure  of  bodily  ailments,  are  as 
yet  in  their  preliminary  stages.  On  the  same  line, 
if  on  no  otlier,  much  greater  possibilities  remain 
for  human  knowledge  and  power  to  achieve.  No 
limit  can  be  laid  down  beyond  which  the  occult 
forces  of  human  life  may  not  be  taken  advantage 
of  for  the  healing  not  of  nervous  diseases  only,  but 
of  purely  physical.  Dr.  Osgood  Mason  gives  abun- 
dant evidence,from  his  own  knowledge  and  practice, 
of  the  influence  of  suggestion,  with  or  without 
hypnosis,  in  the  healing  of  many  physical  ailments. 
And  the  Christian  faith,  based  upon  the  sugges- 
tions found  in  the  Gospels  as  they  describe,  ^vithout 
at  all  understanding  them,  our  Lord's  methods,  is 
that  Jesus  Christ,  by  His  commanding  action  upon 
the  human  mind  and  spirit,  and  by  the  Divine 
power  dwelling  in  Himself,  was  able  to  control 
physical  and  physiological  processes  in  the  human 
body  so  as  to  produce  curative  effects  of  a  per- 
manent character. 

Literati-re.  -For  nnriciit  Jewish  cures,  see  art.  'Medicine' 
(l.y  Ma.ali-t.r)  in  lla^tiiiL's'  DB ;  Wunderbar,  SiUisc/i-Tal- 
iinhb.'-rh''  l/.'/M,/i,  I  ,,.u  i,u  ;  art.  '  Krankheiten  und  Heilkunde 
.Icr  I^^^.IltrIl'  Hi  Ilr,,,,_.s  J'KES.  For  detailed  accounts  of 
mh^v\^^.dr,u-,<^,^■'■.,■_:]a  l,y  .lesus.^see  the  Lives  of  Christ  anil 


Tr.- 


Diet.  V  J^sijcM.  MeiUane;  Vr.  Ll'oy'.l  Ti 
therapeutics,'  ilj. ;  Dr.  Osgood  Mason  on  '  H 
gestion,' ift.  1901;  and  recent  popular  nu'^li- 
T.  Schoaeld  on  The  Force  of  itirul,  and  ( 
^eutics (Churchill,  London).  T. 


.   W'KIGl 


CURSE.— Two  widely  ditt'erent  words  are  in  .^V 
translated  'curse.'  It  will  be  sufficient  to  trace 
their  meaning,  so  far  as  the  ideas  represented  by 
them  are  found  in  the  Gospels. 

1.  Q-in,  avadfixa,  '  an  accursed  {W)  or  devoted 
(RV)  thing.'  (a)  In  its  higher  application  this  word 
signifies  a  thing  devoted— wholly  or  in  part,  jier- 
m.-mently  or  temporarily,  voluntarily  or  by  Divine 
decree — to  a  use  (or  an  abstinence)  exclusively 
sacred.  This  is  not  a  curse  at  all  in  the  modern 
sen.se  of  the  word ;  it  corresponds  more  nearly  to 
the  nature  of  a  vow.  With  tliis  extension  of  mean- 
ing we  may  see  a  genuitic  instance  in  the  special 
consecration  of  John  the  Baptist  (Lk  1'^  7*'),  and  a 
corrupt  instance  in  the  system  of  Corban  (Mk  7"^). 
(i)  In  its  darker  application  it  denotes  an  extreme 
and  punitive  ban  of  extermination.  This  is  of 
frequent  occurrence  in  OT,  but  in  the  Gospels  no 
clear  case  is  found,  unless,  indeed,  under  this  head 
we  include  all  the  death-penalties  of  the  Jewish 
law  (Jn  [?]  8°),  especially  the  punishment  attempted 
(Jn  8'9  lO""-)  and  finally  inflicted  upon  Christ  Him- 
self on  the  charge  of  blasphemy  (Jlk  H""-,  Jn  19"). 
It  is  well  to  notice,  in  connexion  with  this  kiml 


CUSHION 


CYRENIUS 


405 


of  anathema,  the  strong  expression  used  by  Christ 
in  addressing  the  Canaanitish  woman,  as  one  de- 
scended from  a  '  devoted '  race  (Mt  15"*).  It  may 
be  added  that  profanity,  in  the  special  form  of 
self-cursing,  seems  to  have  adopted  language  de- 
rived from  this  ban ;  see  Mt  26'\  Mk  14"  {Kara- 
eefiaTi^eiv  and  dfafffiinT/feii').  Ro  9*  naturally  sug- 
gests itself  as  a  verbal  illustration  ;  in  other  respects 
it  is  a  complete  contrast.*  (c)  The  ban  of  ex- 
termination gave  place,  under  certain  conditions, 
to  the  remedial  discipline  of  excommunication ; 
that  is  to  say,  a  temporary  '  cutting  off  from  the 
congregation ' ;  referred  to,  as  a  Jewish  institution, 
in  Jn  #-  12''^  16^  and,  as  a  Christian  (apparently), 
in  Mt  18".     (See  also  Westcott  on  1  Jn  5'«). 

2.  n^^p,  Karapa,  'curse.'  —  (a)  This  is  the  word 
regularly  used  to  denote  a  curse  in  the  general 
sense,  as  the  natural  antithesis  of  a  blessing  ;  it  is 
not  charged  (as  'anathema'  essentially  is)  with 
sacred  associations ;  its  quality,  whi('h  is  capable 
of  all  degrees,  from  Divine  to  devilish,  is  to  be 
decided  by  the  context.  (6)  The  disappearance  of 
cursing  in  the  NT  marks  very  forcibly  the  con- 
trast between  the  spirit  of  the  New  dispensation 
and  that  of  the  Old  ;  for  in  the  OT  its  presence  is 
at  times  painfully  prominent.  See  Lk  9"'-,  where 
even  the  unauthorized  additions  of  some  MSS  are 
undoubtedly  a  true  comment.  Such  instances  as 
are  found  or  are  alleged  in  the  Epistles  are  judicial 
in  tone,  not  irresponsible  and  malevolent.  The 
exceptional  case  which  occurs  of  a  curse  uttered 
by  Christ  (upon  the  fig-tree  [see  art.],  Mt  21>ff-,  Mk 
jjiitr.j  ig  probably  to  be  taken  as  a  sign  given  to 
ss  His  warning  of  impending  judgments  (Mt 
23"'-  24-"f-  '■'■"■  etc. ).  It  is  a  reminder  that 
we  may  not  so  exaggerate  the  goodness  of  God  as 
to  leave  no  place  for  His  severity.  Christ  applies 
the  words  '  ye  cursed '  to  those  who  shall  be  on  His 
left  hand  at  the  Last  Day  (Mt  25-").  (<■)  Christ 
became  a  'curse'  (Gal  3",  see  Lightfoot,  ad  loc). 
It  belongs  to  the  Epistles  to  unfold  the  bearing  of 
this  truth  ;  but  the  fact  is  implied  in  the  measures 
taken  by  the  Jews,  after  the  Crucilixion,  to  avert 
its  consequences  (Jn  19^',  cf.  Dt  21"').  In  the 
Koman  view  the  shame  of  crucifixion,  in  the  Jewish 
view  its  accursed  nature,  formed  the  special  sting 
of  such  a  death.  Hence  in  the  matter  of  salva- 
tion, which  '  is  from  the  Jews '  ( Jn  4==),  the  curse 
must  necessarily  be  involved  in  the  Death's  redemp- 
tive efficacy.  F.  S.  Kanken. 

CUSHION. -In  NT  only  in  Mk  4^*  RV  [AV 
'pillow']  for  irpo(rKe(pd\ai.ov,  a  cushion  for  the  head, 
but  also  for  sitting  or  reclining  upon  (see  references 
in  Liddell  and  Scott,  s.v.).  By  irpoaK^poKai.a  LXX 
renders  nino?  of  Ezk  13'*  where  the  Arabic  equi- 
valent is  melchadddt.  Mckhaddch  (sing.)  is  just 
the  word  used  by  the  Sea  of  Galilee  fishermen  for 
the  cushion  they  place  in  the  hinder  part  of  their 
iishing-boats  for  the  comfort  of  the  passenger 
to-day.  These  boats  are  probably  similar  to  those 
used  by  our  Lord  and  His  friends,  and  on  just  such 
a  cushion  the  present  writer  has  often  rested  in 
crossing  the  same  waters. 

The  cushions  universally  used  to  support  the 
head  or  the  arm  in  reclining  on  the  diwcin  are 

'  111  Mt  15«  II  Mk  710  RV  riflitlv  substitutes  'he  that  spelketh 
evil  of  for  AV  'he  that  curseth":  the  Greek  '    '  ~ 

quoted  from  Ex  2117. 


iMipr 

2 111.  4 


in  size  about  24"  x  15"  x  5".  They  are  usually  made 
of  straw — less  frequently  of  cotton  or  hair — sewn 
into  strong  canvas,  and  covered  with  coloured 
print  or  silk.  The  larger  cushions  for  the  seat  of 
the  diicdii;  and  employed  in  the  boats,  are  of  the 
.same  material.     See  Pillow.  W.  Ewing. 

CUSTOM.— See  Tribute. 

CTRENE  {Kiiprivri)  was  a  Greek  settlement  on 
the  north  coast  of  Africa,  in  the  district  now  called 
Benghazi  or  Barca,  which  forms  the  E.  part  of 
the  modern  province  of  Tripoli.  It  was  founded 
B.C.  632.  It  was  the  chief  member  of  a  con- 
federacy of  five  neighbouring  cities  ;  hence  the 
district  was  called  either  Pentapolis  or  Cyrenaica. 
Under  the  first  Ptolemy  it  became  a  dependency 
of  Egypt ;  was  left  to  Rome  by  the  will  of 
Ptolemy  Apion,  B.C.  96  ;  was  soon  after  formed 
into  a  province,  and  later,  perhaps  not  till  27, 
united  with  Crete,  with  which  under  the  Empire 
it  formed  a  senatorial  province,  under  an  ex- 
prnctor  with  the  title  of  proconsul.  It  was  noted 
for  its  fertility  and  for  its  commerce,  which,  how- 
ever, declined  after  the  foundation  of  Alexandria. 
It  produced  many  distinguished  men,  such  as  the 
philosophers  Aristippus  and  Carneades,  the  poet 
Callimachus,  and  the  Christian  orator  and  bishop 
Synesius. 

Jews  were  very  numerous  and  influential  there. 
The  first  Ptolemy,  '  wishing  to  secure  the  govern- 
ment of  Cyrene  and  the  other  cities  of  Libya  for 
himself,  sent  a  party  of  Jews  to  inhabit  them ' 
(Josephus,  c.  Apion.  ii.  4).  Cyrenian  Jews  are 
mentioned  in  1  Mac  15°^,  2  Mac  2-*  (Jason  of 
Cyrene).  According  to  Strabo  (ap.  Jos.  Atit.  xiv. 
vii.  2),  the  inhabitants  of  Cyrene  were  divided 
into  four  classes — citizens,  husbandmen  {i.e.  native 
Libyans),  sojourners  {/liroiKoi),  and  Jews.  The 
Jews  enjoyed  equality  of  civil  rights  {Ant.  XVI. 
vi.  1,  5).  An  inscription  at  Berenice,  one  of  the 
cities  of  Cyrenaica,  of  prob.  B.C.  13,  shows  that 
the  Jews  there  formed  a  civic  community  {iroKl- 
reu/ia)  of  their  own,  under  nine  rulers  {CIG  iii. 
5361).  The  Cyrenian  Jews  were  very  turbulent ; 
Lucullus  had  to  suppress  a  disturbance  raised  by 
them  (Strabo,  I.e.)  ;  there  was  a  rising  there  at 
the  close  of  the  Jewish  war,  A.D.  70  (Jos.  BJ  VII. 
xi.  ;  Vita,  76) ;  and  a  terrible  internecine  war 
between  them  and  their  Gentile  neighbours, 
under  Trajan  (Dio  Cass.  Ixviii.  32 ;  Euseb.  HIC 
iv.  2). 

Simon  of  Cyrene  (the  father  of  Alexander  and 
Rufus  [wh.  see]),  who  was  impressed  to  bear 
our  Lord's  cross  (Mt  27'^  Mk  15",  Lk  23=''),  was 
doubtless  one  of  these  Jewish  settlers.  Other  NT 
references  to  Cyrenian  Jews  are  :  Ac  2'"  (at  Pente- 
cost), 6'  (members  of  special  sjiiagogue  at  Jeru- 
salem, opposing  Stephen),  ll-"(preachingatAntioeh 
to  Greeks  [or  Hellenists]),  13'  (Lucius  of  Cyrene, 
probably  one  of  these  preachers,  a  prophet  or 
teacher  at  Antiooh). 

Literature.— Rawlinson's  flerodofwr,  iii.  p.  ISOff. ;  Smith, 
Diet,  of  Greek  and  Roman  Geography  ;  Schurer,  MJP  I.  ii.  283, 
II.  ii.  230f.,  24.5  f.;  Marquardt,  R&inise.he  .Slaalsvertraltung 
(1S81),  i.  458 it.;  art.  '  Diaspora'  (hv  Schurer)  in  Hastings'  DB, 
Extra  Vol.  p.  96i>.  HAROLD  SMITH. 

CYRENIUS.— See  Quirinius. 


DAILY  BREAD 


DALlVrAXUTHA 


D 


DAILY  BREAD.— See  Lord's  Prayer. 

DALMANDTHA.— Mk  8'"  only.  The  textual  and 
geoyniphiial  problems  involved  in  this  name  have 
not  found  as  yet  a  satisfactory  explanation.  After 
the  feetling  of  tlie  4000,  Jesus  embarked  with  His 
disciples,  and  came,  according  to  Mt  15^',  ei'j  to  Spia 
yiaySaM  (TR)  or  lilayaSif  (all  critical  editions) ; 
according  to  Mk  8'"  eis  ri  /t^pij  i!^a\/iavovOd. 

In  Mt.  the  variations  are  few  and  unimportant,  except  tlie 
difference  betnveen  llagdala  and  Magadan.  For  i».a  we  find 
occasionally  «>.«,  ify,  (with  following  «,u«-^JaAa),  «>.  Cod.  I> 
places  T^.-  before  the  proper  name.  Ma/aSa*  is  the  reading  of 
NED  (B3  -i,),  iixysii,  of  tf ;  the  Old  Latin  has  Magadan, 
Mageda,  -am,  Magidam ;  Vulg.  Magedan ;  syrsin  p3D,  «">"  piJO, 
i»i  yiK,  P"i>  n:D  (.Vn;/if«  ;  so  also  the  Arabic  Tatian).  Most 
uncials  and  cursives  ilay^aAa  ;  CM  33. 102,  etc.,  Mctyiet\K¥. 
In  Mk.  TOE  /4£f),]  is  replaced  by  t*  eptct  in  D2. 

»  „  ,1  nipt,    „  N. 

,,  ,,  „  TO  o^of   „  2S,  syrs'n;  but  in  the 

latter  the  addition  of  a  dot  makes  the  plural ;  svrcuris  missing ; 
1!  has  the  spelling  <i«/.,u«.oi;.ei,  471  A«u«.»i/«i,  IS-l'v  a»j.. 
uoi/ioi-ya  ;  Vulg.  Dalmanutha  (with  unimportant  variations); 
arm.  Dalmaaunca.    But  this  is  now  replaced  by : 

M(Ai-/«;i  (not  M«3i^«J«  as  read  by  Stephanas)  in  D'. 

M«-/«.i<^  (not  M«y«o«  as  printed  bv  Tischendorf)  in  D'. 

IWyila.  in  28,  81. 

M«>-iaXa  in  1.  13.  61.  69,  etc. 
Syrsi"  pjc^  syri"'  Si3C,  Got.  Magdalan,  Old  Lat.  Mageda,  -an, 
■am,  Magidan.  It  is  a  natural  supposition  that  in  Mk.  all  read- 
ings differing  from  ^£&*i  Ax>.utctoulfx  are  due  to  assimilation  to 
Mt. ,  perhaps  under  the  influence  of  Tatian.  The  confusion  of  ifm 
and  epr,(opoi)miist  be  very  earlv,  and  has  its  parallels  in  manv 
passages  of  the  OT,  from  Jos  ll'S  13"  to  Ezk  lli»,  Mai  13.  oii 
its  occurrence  in  syr^'i  see  especially  Chase,  The  Syro-Latiti 
Text  of  the  Gospels,  p.  97,  esp.  n.  2,  where  he  justly  remarks ; 
*Thi3  reading  of  the  Sinaitic  raises  two  questions:  (a)  Was 
there  an  early  Greek  Harmony  of  the  Gospels  ?  .  .  .  (6)  What  is 
the  relation  of  Sin.  to  Tatian?"  On  the  Cod.  28  which  supports 
the  reading  of  Byr'™,  see  WH  ii.  242  ("which  has  many  relics  of 
a  very  ancient  text '). 

That  Magadan,  not  Magdala,  is  the  true  reading  in  Mt.  is 
probable  (independently  of  the  witnt-ss  of  MSS)  on  internal 
grounds;  for  it  is  diflicult  to  explain  how  a  name  like  .Va^t/a^a, 
wliich  was  well  known  through  Mary  .Magdalene,  should  have 
become  Magadan,  The  introduction  of  both  forms  into  MSS 
of  Mk.  points  to  the  fact  that  there  were  several  stages  in  the 
revision  of  our  MSS.  Both  the  readings,  Magadan  and 
Magdala,  may,  however,  go  back  to  the  same  Heb.  Sn;s,  as  is 
shown  by  Jos  1537,  where  B  has  MayotSi  TaS  for  M«>-3aX  r«J 
of  A.  Even  for  Dabnanutha  such  an  explanation  has  been 
attempted  by  Dalman  (Gramm.  p.  133 ;  change  of  y  into  ».  and 
transposition  of  syllables  A»X;u«»ei/fla  from  M<i.yhitXtuSi  =  ri't7~:T2. 
But  in  the  2nd  ed.  p.  108  he  has  left  out  this  note  and  all 
references  to  this  word). 

That  Ttt  Spia  in  Mt.  and  ra  /i^pri  in  Mk.  are  almost 
Identical  expressions,  is  shown  by  Mt  15-'  t/s  ri 
(jLt'pi]  ^iSwvos  Kal  Ti/pou  compared  witli  Mk  7"  els  ra. 
opia  (JTR  iieBbpia)  Ti'./)ou  (»,ai  i;ioi;'os),  and  by  the  fact 
that  in  the  OT  4  of  the  11  Heb.  equivalents  for 
opiov  (T,  Vic,  .1X3,  I'p)  reappear  among  the  22  Heb. 
eiiuivalents  of  iiipot.  The  next  sui)position  is 
therefore  that  Magadan  (or  Magdala)  in  Mt.  = 
Dalinaiiutlia  in  Mark.     But  how  is  this  possible  ? 

Many  explanations  have  been  started.  The  one 
projiust'd  by  Dalman  niav  be  dismissed  at  once, 
as  it  is  given  up  by  himself ;  cf.  also  Wellhausen's 
remarks  on  it  (Ei\  Marci).  Lightfoot  and  Ewald 
derived  Dalmanutha  from  poVs  by  the  supposition 
of  an  Aramaic  or  Galila'an  pronunciation.  Keim 
{Jesus  of  ^azara,  Eng.  tr.  iv.  238)  explained  it 
similarly  as  'Shady  Place.'  Schwarz  {Das  hcilige 
Land,  p.  189)  derived  it  from  the  cave  Teliman 
(iiO'So),  which  cave,  however,  according  to  Neu- 
bauer,  was  in  the  neighbourhood  or  Herod's 
C-csarea.  J.  W.  Donaldson  (Jashar:  fragmenta 
archctypa  carminvm  Hchraicorwn,  editio  secunda, 
1840,  p.  16)  suggested  :  'AoX-  istud  residuum  esse 
veri  nominis  MaySaXd  .'^cil.  V."<-Si;:,  MaKou^d  autem  re- 


prcesentare  pluralem  vocis  r\)D pars,  portio,  quam  in 
bneco  fiipTi  conversam  habeinus.'  A  similar  idea 
was  struck  out  independently  by  R.  Harris  {Codex 
Bezce,  p.  188)  and  the  present  writer  (Philologica 
Sacra,  p.  17  ;  KxpTix.  45),  tha.t  Dalmantitha  is  the 
transliteration  of  the  Aramaic  equivalent  of  eh  rd 
M^pri,  whicli  by  some  form  of  ditto<j'i-aphy  took  the 
place  of  the  proper  name.  Against  Harris  see 
Chase,  Bezan  Text  of  Acts,  p.  145,  n.  2  ;  and  against 
the  whole  suggestion,  Dalman,  ^Vords  of  Jesus, 
p.  66  f.  Dalman  doubts  whether  ."iC-:9  ii  Aramaic 
meant  anything  else  but  'portion.'  But  in  the 
Syriac  Bible  at  least  it  is  frequently  used  for  the 
allotted  portions  of  land  (Jos  14-  lo',  Is  57"). 
N.  Herz  saw  in  the  word  an  Aramaized  form  of  the 
Greek  Xi/x^»  'harbour'  {ExpT v'n\.  563,  ix.  95,  426). 
Others,  finallv,  give  no  explanation,  and  consider 
Magadan  and  DalmanutJui  as  the  names  of  two 
difl'erent  places  near  each  other,  neither  being  very 
well  known.  But  this  leads  to  the  topographical 
problem. 

Eusebius  in  his  Ononucsticon  has  but  one  para- 
graph on  a  name  beginning  with  M  immediately 
after  names  from  the  prophet  Jeremiah  (Mephaath, 
Maon,  Molchom,  48'-'-  -'  49').  It  runs  (in  Kloster- 
mann's  edition,  p.  134  [  =  Lagarde,  OS  p.  282]): 

yiaytii,  (Mt  1539).  ,;.-  ^i  t^,„  M«>,(Si.  i  Xpinis  jTiS-i/i^irl., 
i!  i  yUrSi^iX.  ui  i  -SUpiai!  Si  tis  Ua.ylhk<  ^nfutliu,  xaS  iim 
tZv  n  MfltytSaf*!  rr£^ j  rr,,  Tipetffti*. 

In  Jerome's  translation : 

'Magedan,  ad  cuius  lines  Matthseus  evangelista  scribit  domi- 
num  pen-enisse,  sed  et  Marcus  eiusdem  iiominis  recordatur, 
nunc  autem  regio  dicitur  Magedena  c 


The  unique  MS,  in  which  the  work  of  Eusebius 
is  preserved,  writes  SIa7oi5di'  (as  D*)  and  Ma-/ai5ai'^. 
Eusebius  may  have  been  reminded  of  the  name 
by  the  occurrence  of  yiaySdiXu  beside  M^/t^ij  in  Jer 
51  (44)',  which  he  quotes  a  few  lines  before  (ed. 
Klost.  p.  134,  1.  15).  At  all  events  it  follows  from 
the  entry,  that  Eusebius  did  not  find  Dalmanutha 
in  his  text  of  Mark,  and  that  he  sought  the  place 
on  the  eastern  side  ;  but  Gerasa  seems  too  far  from 
the  Lake,  unless  we  are  to  suppose  that  it  htul 
some  sort  of  enclave  on  its  shores. 

A  strange  identification  is  tliat  with  the  '  Phiala ' 
Lake  mentioned  by  Jos.  BJ  III.  x.  7  as  one  of  tlie 
sources  of  the  Jordan.  See  the  Maps  published  by 
Rohrieht,  i.  (ZC/Txiv.  1S91): 


'Hunc    foiitem   Jo 


It  Phialain,  Marcus  Dal- 
■'■u\  Mudin,  Hinc  est  verus 
s.-e  recipiuntur  in  Dan  sub. 


ortus  Jordan  ;    unde  p:ilL- 
terraneo  meatu  ductae.' 

Furrer  {ZDPV ii.  59)  identified  Dalmanutha  with 
Khan  Minych,  which  name  he  connected  with 
mensa  (the  table  where  Jesus  sat  with  the  Twelve, 
first  mentioned  in  the  Commcmoratorium,  A.D.  808), 
and  this  with  (Dal)raanatha;  but  see  against  this 
Gildemeister  {ib.  iv.  19711'.).  Thomson  {LB  393) 
suggests  a  ruined  site  up  the  Yannuk  half  a  mile 
from  the  Jordan  called  Dalhamia  or  Dalmamia 
(Robinson,  .Bi?P  iii.  264,  '  Delhemiyeh ') ;  Tristram, 
a  site  one  and  a  half  miles  from  Migdel ;  Sir  C. 
Wilson,  a  site  not  far  from  the  same.  The  a"ed 
Prof.  Sepp  in  a  recent  paper,  '  Die  endlich  entdeckte 
Heimat  aer  Magdalena'  {Vtilhcrschau,  iii.  3,  pp. 
199-202,  1904),  argued  for  Miqdal  Gedor  or  Mag- 
dala Gadara,  a  Jewish  suburb  of  Gadara  (Jerus. 
Erubin  v.  7).  Wellhausen  has  no  doubt  that  it 
must  be  sought  on  the  eastern  shore,  in  the  neigli- 
bourhood  of  Bethsaida  (Mk  8"),  if  this  town  itself 
did  not  belong  to  it.  For  he  holds  8"'" '"  to  be 
identical  -svith  8",  the  object  aiVo.'s  of  i<t,eii  in  8'^ 


DANCING 


DAEKNESS 


being  the  i>x^ol,  not  the  Pliarisees,  ami  irdXii'  he 
regards  as  a  harmonistic  insertion.  He  believes 
that  8"  orighially  followed  immediately  upon  8- 
Kal  ^pxovTaL  €ts  Bi^dtratddv. 

Thus  not  even  the  geographical  problem  is  solved. 
If  the  suggestion  on  the  origin  of  Dalmanutlia,  as 
put  forward  by  Donaldson,  Harris,  and  the  present 
writer,  were  to  turn  out  correct,  it  would  have  im- 
portant consequences  for  the  Synoptic  Problem.  For 
then  this  reading  cannot  well  have  had  its  origin  in 
oral  tradition,  but  presupposes  a  written  (Aramaic) 
document  as  the  ba.sis  of  our  Second  Gospel. 


Schultze,  lialmanutha :  Geographiscli-linijuistische  Untenueh- 


Sanday,  Sacred  Sites  of  the  Gospels,  p.  22  f. ;  Merx,  Die  vier 
kanonischen  Evangetien,  ii.  2  (1905),  p.  79  [warns  against 
identification  with  EddeViemiye,  gives  as  reading  of  the  Ann. 
Dahnanoun,  and  claims  for  the  reading  Dalmanutha,  which  is 
not  recognized  by  the  old  texts  (syr  =1"  D,  Old  Lat.  Ulf.),  an 
Egyptian  origin].  Eb.  NesTLE. 

DANCING.— 1.  Manner.— The  Oriental  dance  was 
performed  either  by  an  individual  man  or  woman, 
or  by  crescent  lines  of  men  dancing  together  and 
holding  each  other's  hands,  or  of  women  by  them- 
selves performing  similar  movements.  The  one  at 
the  end  of  the  line  waved  a  scarf  and  acted  as 
choregos,  or  dance-leader.  At  times  also  a  line  of 
men  and  women,  with  hands  joined,  confronted 
another  similar  line,  and  the  dance  consisted  in 
their  alternate  advance  and  retreat,  accompanied 
by  the  hand-clapping  of  the  onlookers  beating  time 
to  the  music,  by  the  scarf-waving  and  occasional 
shout,  and,  at  regulated  intervals,  the  resounding 
tread  of  the  dancers.  In  the  case  of  the  individual, 
the  abrupt  muscular  actions  were  artistically  re- 
lieved, as  in  the  contrasting  lines  of  male  and 
female  attire  in  the  Western  dance,  by  the  soft 
and  swaying  undulations  of  the  dancer's  figure. 
The  accompaniment  of  song,  hand-clapping,  and 
musical  instruments  served  to  control  the  energy 
and  secure  unity  of  movement. 

2.  Place. — On  the  occasion  of  a  wedding  in  a 

Seasant's  house  a  space  was  kept  clear  near  the 
oor,  and  into  it  one  after  another  stepped  forward 
and  danced,  and  retired  among  the  shadows ;  the 
(lancing  of  the  bride  receiving  especial  attention 
and  applause.  For  dancing  in  companies,  the  flat 
roof,  or  any  level  space  beside  the  house,  wa.s 
resorted  to.  In  the  cities  and  in  the  houses  of  the 
rich,  the  large  reception  room,  or  the  open  paved 
court,  into  which  all  the  apartments  opened,  was 
available  for  the  purpose.  In  festive  processions 
the  male  or  female  performers,  singly  or  in  couples, 
stepped  to  the  front  and  danced  with  sword  and 
.shield,  and  then  gave  place  to  others. 

3.  Occasions. — In  the  East,  dancing  has  never 
been  regarded  as  an  end  in  itself  and  promoted  as 
an  entertainment  chiefly  for  those  actively  taking 
part  in  it,  but  rather  as  a  demonstration  of  feeling 
dueto  some  special  incident  or  situation.  In 
family  life  this  was  principally  the  event  of  mar- 
riage (Mt  11",  Lk  7^=);  and  a  similar  ex 
of  feeling  often  attended  the  birth  of  a 
covery  from  sickness,  return  from  a  journey,  or 
the  reception  of  a  guest  whose  presence  called  for 
such  a  nianifestation  of  grateful  rejoicing.  Birth- 
days did  not  usually  receive  such  notice,  as  they 
lacked  the  element  of  relief  from  danger,  recom- 
pense and  rest  after  hardship,  or  the  introduction 
of  something  new  into  tlio  family  conditions. 
Herod's  birthday  foast  (whon  Salome  danced  before 
the  gtip^t-.,  Mt  1(1;,  Ml;  (i-t  v,:io  ..,,1  imitation  of 
Gent  ill'  rn  tniii  .     M,,i.    .  ,  i;.  !    I  ,  ,      ~ions  were  the 

founding. if;,  l„iil,lii,  .,  n,        lu  ,   IP.;  of  harvest, 

and  the  lvliL;i,„i-  ]r,l]^;.U.iI   lii-  mm 


and  young,  and  including  all  classes,  indicated  a 
simple  life,  in  which  the  feeling  of  the  moment 
found  hearty  and  uncritical  expression.  The  view 
of  life  was  one  that  recognized  the  easy  and  rapid 
interchange  of  joy  and  grief  (Ps30'-",  La5'^  Ec 
3^).  Further,  it  implied  a  very  close  connexion 
between  mental  and  physical  states.  As  there 
was  a  union  of  mirth  and  dancing,  so  there  was 
an  equally  natural  correspondence  between  sorrow 
and  sighing  (Is  35'°).  Even  in  places  dedicated  to 
relaxation  and  delight,  by  the  rivers  of  Babylon, 
it  was  impossible  for  captive  exiles  to  sing  the 
songs  of  the  Lord's  deliverance  (Ps  137'-').  The 
elder  brother  could  take  no  part  in  mirth  and 
dancing  of  which  the  occasion  was  so  atl'ronting 
and  ofi'ensive  to  himself  (Lk  15'*"''').  Hence  among 
a  people  marked  by  mobility  of  temperament  and 
prone  to  e.xtremes  of  feeling,  the  children  in  the 
market-place  might  well  reproach  their  companions 
who  heard  the  wedding  music  without  rising  to  the 
dance,  and  the  wail  of  bereavement  without  being 
moved  to  pity  (Mt  11",  Lk  7^-). 

Literature. — Hastings'  VB,  art.  'Dancing';  Delitzsch,  Iris^ 
189  ff. ;  Thomson,  Land  and  Book,  555  f. 

G.  M.  Mackie. 

DANIEL. — The  influence  of  Daniel  on  the  Apoca- 
lyptic conceptions  of  the  Gospels  is  profound  (see 
Apocalyptic  Literature).  For  the  possible  in- 
fluence of  Dn  7'^  see  Son  of  Max.  The  only  pas- 
sage in  which  the  book  is  explicitly  mentioned  is 
Mt  24'*,  where  the  phrase  t6  /SSAiry^a  rijs  ipriiiiiicreus 
('the  abomination  of  desolation')  is  quoted.  See 
art.  Abomination  of  Desolation.  It  is  to  be 
noted  that  in  the  corresponding  passage  in  Mark 
(IS"),  no  mention  is  made  of  Daniel.  In  view  of 
the  accepted  priority  of  Mark  and  his  clo.ser  fidelity, 
and  also  of  Matthew's  fondness  for  OT  references, 
the  absence  of  the  clause  rai.ses  the  suspicion  that 
it  is  not  part  of  the  original  utterance,  but  a 
comment  added  by  the  latter  Evangelist.  In  that 
case  it  would  not  be  necessary  to  assume  that 
Jesus  meant  to  use  the  phrase  in  the  same  sense  as 
it  is  used  in  Daniel.  He  may  have  only  adopted 
or  borrowed  it  as  a  current  popular  expression  to 
describe  some  minatory  event  which  He  foresaw 
portending  the  forthcoming  calamity. 

A.  Mitchell  Hunter. 

DARKNESS The  word   '  dark '  is  used  in  the 

sense  of  the  absence  of  natural  light  in  Jn  6"  20'. 
The  darkness  that  lasted  for  the  space  of  three 
hours  at  the  crucihxion  is  referred  to  in  Mt  27^*, 
Mk  \S^,  Lk  23«- «.  For  a  brief  summary  of  the 
views  held  as  to  the  nature  of  this  darkness,  see 
Hastings' Z)i?,  art.  'Darkness.'  It  may  suffice  to 
remark  that,  the  Passover  falling  at  full  moon, 
there  can  be  no  question  here  of  a  solar  eclipse. 

Generally  '  darkness '  is  used  in  a  metaphorical 
sense,  but  with  slightly  diflerent  signiflcations. 
Darkness  is  the  state  of  spiritual  ignorance  and 
sin  in  which  men  are  before  the  light  of  the 
revelation  of  Jesus  comes  to  them  (Mt  4'*,  Lk  1'", 
Jn  8'-  12**- '"').  This  darkness  the  presence  of  Jesus 
dispels,  except  in  the  case  of  those  who  love  the 
dancness  and  who  therefore  shrink  back  into  the 
recesses  of  gloom,  when  the  light  shines,  because 
their  deeds  are  evil.  Those  who  have  a  natural 
aftinity  to  the  light,  when  Jesus  appears,  follow 
Him  and  walk  no  longer  in  darkness. 

But  there  is  the  deeper  darkness  that  comes 
through  incapacity  of  sight  (Mt  6=^,  Lk  11").  This 
state  results  from  long  continuance  in  evil  { Jn  3'*). 
It  is  the  judgment  passed  upon  the  impenitent 
sinner.  To  love  the  darkness  rather  than  the  light 
is  to  have  the  spiritual  faculty  atrojjliied,  and  this 
is  the  Divine  penalty  to  which  he  is  condemned. 
The  light  that  is  in  him  has  become  darkness.  The 
gospel  contemplates  for  the  human  soul  no  more 
dire  calamity. 


408 


DATES 


DATES 


And  the  final  fate  of  the  impenitent  sinner  is  to 
be  cast  into  outer  darkness  ( Mt  S'-  22'^  25^).  There 
is  a  kingdom  of  darkness  wliich  wars  against  the 
light,  and  which  has  power  at  times  to  prevail  (Lk 
2053J  This  is  the  darkness  of  sin,  chosen  and  loved 
as  sin,  the  instinctive  hatred,  inwrought  with 
what  is  radically  evil,  of  the  Divine  purity  and 
light.  It  is  the  negative  of  all  good — outer  dark- 
ness, the  darkness  that  has  ceased  to  he  permeated 
or  permeable  by  any  ray  of  light. 

Darkness  is  twice  used  of  secrecy  or  privacy 
<]Mt  10^,  Lk  123).  In  these  cases,  however,  a 
metaphorical  use  of  the  word  is  also  implied.  In 
the  former  passage  the  reference  is  to  the  dark- 
ness of  perplexity  and  sorrow  ;  in  the  latter,  to  the 


also  Light,  Unpardonable 


darkness  of  sin, 
Sin. 

In  the  later  mystical  theology  there  is  a  use  of  the  terra  that 
may  be  here  referred  to.  There  is  a  'Divine  darkness '  which 
is  the  consummation  of  the  experience  of  the  purified  soul — 
the  darkness  that  comes  from  excess  of  lif^rht.  The  pseudo- 
Dionysius  speaks  of  the  '  luminous  gloom  of  the  silence' which 
reveals  the  inner  secrets  of  being,  and  in  which  the  soul  is  raised 
to  the  absolute  ecstasy.  It  is  an  attempt  to  express  the  in- 
finitude of  the  susceptibility  of  the  human  soul  to  emotions 
of  either  joy  or  anguish.  From  the  outer  darkness  to  the  light 
which  is  above  light,  and  therefore  inconceivable,  the  soul  of 
man  is  capable  of  responding  to  every  shade  of  experience. 

Literature. — Creraer,  Bih.-Thcol.  Lex.  s.vv,  irxoToty  trxarix; 
Martineau,  Endeavours  ajter  the  Christian  Life^,  p.  403(1.; 
Phillips  Brooks,  Candle  of  the  Lord,  p.  74  £f.;  Expositor,  u.  iii. 

[iss2]32iff.  A.  Miller. 


DATES.  —  The  chronological  sequence  of  the 
Gospels  is  quite  as  important  as  that  of  the  Epistles 
to  the  student  of  tlie  beginnings  of  Christianity, 
and  forms  an  essential  branch  of  the  study  of  the 
development  of  our  Lord's  revelation  and  His 
Messianic  consciousness.  The  difficulties  in  the 
way  of  forming  an  exact  time-table  of  the  dates  in 
the  Gospels  are  due  (1)  to  the  indifierence  of  the 
early  Christians,  as  citizens  of  the  heavenly  city, 
to  the  great  events  that  were  taking  place  "in  the 
world  around  them ;  (2)  to  their  lack  of  means  of 
ascertaining  these  events,  and  their  obliviousness  of 
the  important  bearing  they  miglit  have  on  the  evi- 
dences of  the  faith  ;  (3)  to  tlie  fact  that,  tlie  early 
Christian  traditions  being  recorded  in  the  interest 
of  religion  and  not  of  history,  the  writers  confined 
tlieir  attention  to  a  few  events,  which  were  arranged 
as  much  according  to  subject-matter  as  to  time 
sequence.  The  result  is  tliat  there  are  many  gaps 
which  can  be  only  approximjitely  filled  up  by 
strict  inference  from  casual  remarks.  The  author 
of  the  Third  Gospel  is  the  only  one  to  give  parallel 
dates  of  secular  history  in  the  manner  of  a  true 
historian,  and  to  profess  to  relate  tilings  '  in  order' 
(Kade^rj?,  Lk  P).  There  are  many  inferences  as  to 
time  to  be  drawn  from  statements  in  Mt.,  but  they 
are  of  an  accidental  character.  St.  John  marks 
points  of  time  of  significance  in  his  own  and  in  his 
Master's  life,  but  liis  purpose  is  to  trace  the  de- 
velopment of  the  drama  of  the  Master's  passion, 
not  to  suggest  its  chronological  relation  to  the 
history  of  the  world. 

The  early  Fathers,  Irenjevis,  Tertullian,  Clement 
of  Alexandria,  Africanus,  and  Hippolytus,  were 
the  first  to  attempt  to  arrange  the  events  of  the 
Gospel  in  chronological  sequence.  But  these 
attempts  are  not  always  to  be  relied  upon,  owing 
to  the  difficulties  of  ascertaining  many  of  the  dates 
of  secular  history,  to  which  reference  has  already 
been  made,  and  wliich  were  still  further  increased 
in  their  case  by  the  different  ways  of  reckoning 
the  years  of  reigning  monarchs  and  of  calculating 
time  in  the  diti'erent  eras.  For  example,  Lk  3^ 
'  in  the  15th  year  of  the  reign  of  Tiberius '  may  be 
reckoned  from  Augustus'  death,  Aug.  19  A.D.  14, 
or  from  the  time  wl;en  Tiberius  was  associated 
with  Augustus  in  the  empire  by  special  law  ;  but 
that  law,  again,  is  variously  dated,  being  identified 


by  some  with  tlie  grant  of  the  tribiinieia  potcstas 
for  life  in  A.D.  13,  but  assigned  by  Mommsen  (after 
Velleius  Paterculus,  ii.  121)  to  A.D.  11.  So  that 
we  have  to  choose  between  A.D.  29,  28,  and  26. 
Furthermore,  the  Roman  calendar  began  on  Jan.  1, 
so  that  the  imperial  year  might  be  adjusted  to  the 
civil  year  (1)  by  counting  the  fractional  year  as  a 
whole,  and  by  commencing  a  second  imperial  year 
on  the  first  New  Year's  Day  of  each  reign, — Light- 
foot  {Ignatius,  ii.  398)  mentions  the  practice  of 
Trajan  and  his  successors  of  beginning  a  second 
year  of  tribunicia  potestas  on  the  annual  inaugura- 
tion day  of  new  tribunes  next  after  their  accession, 
— or  (2)  by  omitting  the  fractional  year  altogether, 
and  calculating  the  emperor's  reign  from  a  fixed 
date,  like  Eusebius,  who  seems  to  commence  each 
emperor's  reign  from  the  September  foUomng  his 
accession  (see  art.  '  Chronology '  in  Hastings'  DB 
i.  418).  The  Julian  reform  of  the  Roman  calendar, 
by  which  the  year  B.C.  46  was  made  to  contain  445 
days,  in  order  to  bring  the  civil  year  into  line  with 
the  solar  year,  adds  to  the  complications. 

Furthermore,  the  Jewish  calendar  bristles  Tvith 
problems.  Originally  the  Paschal  full  moon  was 
settled  by  observation,  but  that  became  impossible 
when  the  people  were  spread  over  distant  lands, 
and  was  also  hindered  by  atmospheric  causes  ;  and, 
in  any  case,  the  beginning  of  the  month  was  deter- 
mined not  by  the  astronomical  new  moon,  but  by 
the  time  when  the  crescent  became  visible,  about 
30  hours  afterwards,  the  first  sunset  after  that 
event  niarkin"  the  beginning  of  the  new  inontli. 
A  fresh  difficulty  was  created  by  the  13tli  month, 
Veadar,   which    was    intercalated    whenever    the 


bidden  in  sabbatical  years,  and  two  intercalary 
years  could  not  be  successive.  The  lunar  year 
was  correlated  with  the  solar  by  the  rule  that  the 
Paschal  full  moon  immediately  followed  the  spring 
equinox.  There  were  also  various  calculations  of 
the  equinox,  Hippolvtus  placing  it  on  March  18, 
Anatolius  on  March  19,  the  Alexandrians  on 
March  21. 

And  with  regard  to  chronology  in  general  it  is 
to  be  noted  that  in  the  East  the  year  almost 
always  began  with  September.  The  Jewish  civil 
year  began  in  Tishri  (Sept.);  the  religious  and 
regal  in  Nisan  (April)  (Jos.  Ant.  I.  iii.  3),  the  order 
of  months  beginning  with  the  latter,  that  of  tlie 
years  with  the  former.  The  Alexandrian  year 
began  on  Aug.  29 ;  the  era  of  the  Greeks  started 
from  Sept.  B.C.  312,  the  Olympiads  from  July  B.C. 
776.  In  the  Christian  era,  also  called  the  Dionysian 
after  Dionysius  Exiguus  of  the  6th  cent.,  753  A.U.C. 
=  1  B.C.,  and  754  A.U.C.  =  1  A.D. 

The  points  of  chronology  in  our  Lord's  life 
which  have  to  be  settled  before  any  table  of  dates 
can  be  drawn  up  are  (1)  date  of  nativitj',  (2)  age 
at  baptism,  (3)  length  of  ministry,  (4)  date  of 
crucifixion.  While  no  one  of  these  can  be  verified 
with  anything  like  precision,  it  is  certain  that  the 
accepted  chronology,  based  on  the  calculations  of 
Dionysius  Exiguus  in  the  6th  cent.,  ' 


Dionysius  started,  seemingly,  from  Lk  31,  the  15th  year  of 
Tiberius,  placed  the  public  ministry  of  our  Lord  one  year  later, 
and  counted  back  30  years,  on  the  strength  of  Lk  323.  This 
gave  754  A.U.C.  for  the  year  of  Christ's  birth.  Following 
Hippolytus,  he  fixed  on  Dec.  25  in  that  year,  and,  according  to 
the  usual  method  for  reckoning  the  years  of  monarchs,  counted 
the  whole  year  754  as  1  a.d.  (see  Ideler,  Handbuch,  ii.  383 f.). 
That  his  views  need  correction  will  be  proved  in  the  course  of 
this  article. 

1.  Date  of  HatiYity. — This  may  he  fixed  some- 
what approximately  by  its  relation  to  (a)  the  date 
of  Herod^s  death  (Mt  2'--),  (6)  the  enrolment  under 
Quirinius  (Lk  2'),  and  by  (c)  Patristic  testimony. 

{a)  Herod's  death,  the  terminus  ad  quern  of  the 
Kativitj',  is  generally  settled  by  the  Jewish  chron- 


DATES 


ology  in  Ant.  and  BJ,  in  which  are  found  indica- 
tions of  the  dates  of  Herod's  accession  and  death, 
and  of  the  dates  of  his  predecessor  Antigonus,  and 
of  his  immediate  successors,  Archelaus,  Herod 
Philip,  and  Herod  Antipas.  For  notice  of  Herod's 
death  see  Ant.  xvil.  viii.  1,  '  liaving  reigned,  since 
he  had  procured  the  deatli  of  Antigonus,  34  years, 
but,  since  he  had  been  declared  king  by  the 
Romans,  37  years.'  Tlie  death  of  Antigonus  is 
noted  in  Ant.  xiv.  xvi.  4.  '  This  destruction  befell 
the  city  of  Jerusalem  when  Marcus  Agrippa  and 
Canidius  Gallus  were  consuls  at  Rome,  Olym.  185, 
in  the  3rd  month,  on  the  solemnity  of  the  fast,  like 
a  periodical  return  of  the  misfortunes  which  over- 
took the  Jews  under  Pompey,  by  whom  they  were 
taken  on  the  same  day  27  years  before.'  The 
consuls  mentioned  held  office  B.C.  37,  and  27  years 
from  l!.C.  63  (consulship  of  Cicero  and  Antonius), 
when  Pompey  took  Jerusalem  {Ant.  XIV.  iv.  3), 
allowing  for  the  three  intercalary  months  of  B.C. 
46,  gives  practically  the  same  date,  B.C.  37,  for  the 
conKrmation  of  Herod  in  his  kingdom.  Herod's 
death  might  therefore  be  placed  in  the  month 
Nisan  (see  below)  B.C.  4  (Sivan  25  B.C.  37  to  Nisan 
B.C.  4,  according  to  the  method  of  counting  reigns, 
being  34  years). 

Of  Herod's  successors  (1)  Archelaus,  ethnarch  of 
Judfea,  was  banished  in  the  consulship  of  Lepidus 
and  Arruntius  (A.D.  6),  in  the  10th  year  of  his 
reign  (Ant.  XVII.  xiii.  2),  or  in  the  9th  (BJ  U.  vii. 
3),  and  therefore  would  have  come  to  the  throne 
B.C.  4,  being  probably  banished  before  he  cele- 
brated the  10th  anniversary  of  his  accession.  (2) 
Herod  Philip  died  in  the  20th  year  of  Tiberius, 
having  been  tetrarch  of  Trachonitis  and  Gaulanitis 
37  years  (A7it.  XVlll.  iv.  6),  and  would  have  com- 
menced his  reign  B.C.  4-3. 

There  are  two  more  data  to  help  us  to  fix  the 
year  of  Herod's  death :  the  eclipse  of  the  moon 
which  preceded  his  last  illness  (Ant.  XVII.  vi.  4), 
and  the  Passover  which  followed  soon  after  (XVII. 
ix.  3).  The  lunar  eclipses  visible  in  Palestine  dur- 
ing B.C.  5-3  were  those  of  March  23  B.C.  5,  Sept.  15 
B.C.  5,  March  12  B.C.  4.  As  it  is  quite  possible 
that  the  final  scene  of  Herod's  life  and  his  obse- 
quies did  not  cover  more  than  one  month,  we 
might,  with  Ideler  and  Wurm,  fix  on  the  eclipse 
of  March  12  B.C.  4  (Wieseler,  Chron.  Syn.  p.  56), 
which  is  also  indicated  by  the  Passover  that  im- 
mediately followed.  B.C.  4,  Herod's  death,  would 
therefore  be  the  terminus  ad  quern  of  the  Nativity. 
But  how  long  before  B.C.  4  Jesus  was  born 
cannot  decisively  be  said.  The  age  of  the  Innocents, 
dir6  SiETous  Kal  KaraT^po}  (Mt  2'*),  would  give  B.C.  6  as 
the  superior  limit  and  B.C.  5  as  the  inferior,  as  this 
clause  is  qualitied  by  the  diligent  investigation  of 
Herod  (/tori  rby  XP^"""  8"  riKpl^oKTe  irapa  rdv  fiayuv). 
This  massacre,  quite  in  keeping  with  the  growing 
cruelty  and  suspicion  of  Herod,  who  had  recently 
procured  the  murder  of  his  two  sons,  Alexander 
and  Aristobulus,  was  secretly  carried  out  and 
seemingly  of  small  extent,  not  being  mentioned  by 
Josephus,  and  being  apparently  limited  to  children 
to  whom  the  star  which  the  Magi  saw  in  the  east, 
at  least  six  months  before,  might  have  reference. 
Although  Mt  2'i  rd  -n-aiSioy  does  not  suggest  an 
infant  babe,  the  stay  of  the  Holy  Family  in  Beth- 
lehem, where  the  Magi  found  them,  cannot  have 
been  long,  the  presentation  in  the  Temple  follow- 
ing 40  days  after  the  Nativity.  B.C.  6-5  would  then 
be  approximately  the  date  of  the  Nativity. 


*  Chronology '),  for  the  appearance  of  a  striking  sidereal  pheno- 
menon between  the  years  B.C.  7  and  B.C.  4  has  been  proved  by 
Kepler  and  verified  by  Ideler  and  Pritchard.  Kepler  suggested 
that  a  conjunction  of  Saturn  and  .Jupiter  in  the  zodiacal  sign  of 
"      Pisces,  similar  to  that  which  took  place  in  Dec.  1603,  took 


But  this  would  1 


tor 


appeared  then.  The  Chinese  tables  mention  such  an  .appear- 
ance in  B.C.  4.  Edersheim  (Life  and  Times  of  Jesus  the 
Messiah)  suggests  that  the  conjunction  in  e.c.  7  first  aroused 
the  attention  of  the  Magi,  and  that  the  evanescent  star  of  B.C.  4 
stood  over  Bethlehem.  TNvo  Jewish  traditions,  one  that  the 
star  of  the  Messiah  should  be  seen  two  years  before  His  birth, 
and  the  other  that  the  conjunction  of  Saturn  and  Jupiter  in 
Pisces  portended  something  of  importance  for  the  Jewish 
nation,  might  be  mentioned.  The  former  is  found  in  the  Mid- 
rashim,  the  latter  in  Abarbanel's  Com,  on  Daniel  (15th  cent.). 
While  no  theory  could  be  established  on  such  a  basis  as  this 
appearance,  yet  it  may  support  a  theory  founded  on  more 
certain  data.  If  the  coming  of  the  Magi  took  place  shortl.v 
after  the  death  of  Herod's  sons  Alexander  and  Aristobulus 
(B.C.  7)  and  the  mission  of  Antipater,  his  heir,  to  Rome  (B.C.  6), 
their  question,  'Where  is  he  that  is  born  king  of  the  Jews?' 
would,  indeed,  be  startling  to  Herod. 

(b)  The  enrolment  under  Quirinius  (Lk  2-  aurri  rj 
airoypa4>T]  irpdm]  iyevero  i}yefiove{tovTOi  ttjs  2,vpiai 
Kvp-qvlov,  '  this  enrolment  took  place  for  the  lirst 
time  when  Quirinius  was  governor  of  Syria' ;  cf.  ore 
TTpCyrov  iKfKevaav  dTroypa(pa.s  yeviaBai.  [Strom,  i.  147]). 
A  Roman  census  took  place  in  A.D.  6,  after  the 
deposition  of  Archelaus,  and  caused  the  revolt  of 
Judas  of  Gamala  (Ant.  XVIII.  i.  1),  who  in  con- 
sequence became  the  founder  of  the  Zealot  party, 
which  resisted  Gentile  taxation  and  authority. 
This  taxing  (XVIII.  ii.  1)  was  concluded  in  the  37th 
year  of  Csesar's  victory  at  Actium  (A.D.  7).  To 
this  enrolment  the  author  of  Ac  5'^  refers.  But 
it  cannot  be  the  enrolment  of  Lk  2^.  And 
Josephus  should  not  be  accused  of  having  ascribed  to 
A.D.  7  what  took  place  in  B.C.  6-5,  as  the  census  he 
mentions  was  made  after  and  in  consequence  of  the 
removal  of  Archelaus.  Mommsen  and  Zumpt  sug- 
gest that  Quirinius  held  office  twice  in  Syria.  And 
his,  indeed,  might  be  the  name  wanting  in  a  muti- 
lated inscription,  describing  an  official  who  was 
twice  governor  of  Syria  under  Augustus.  But 
Saturninus  was  governor  B.C.  9-7,  and  Varus  B.C. 
7-4,  being  in  power  after  Herod's  death  ;  so  that  no 
place  can  be  found  for  the  rule  of  Quirinius  before 
B.C.  4,  the  terminus  ad  qnem  of  our  Lord's  birth.  He 
may  have  come,  B.C.  3-2,  and  completed  a  census 
begun  by  his  predecessor.  And  there  is  also  the 
possibility  of  his  having  received  an  extraordinary 
military  command  by  the  side  of  Varus.  T\\iA  nnals 
of  Tacitus  (ii.  30,  iii.  22,  48)  describe  him  as  a  keen 
and  zealous  soldier  (impiger  militicc  et  acribus mini- 
steriis),  who  had  obtained  a  triumph  for  having 
stormed  some  fortresses  of  the  Homonadenses  in 
Cilicia,  but  who  was  distinctly  unpojjular  on 
account  of  his  friendship  with  Tiberius,  his  sordid 
life  and  '  dangerous  old  age.'  Such  an  officer  would 
have  been  a  most  useful  agent  for  Augustus  in 
preparing  the  document  called  by  Suetonius  (Aug. 
28)  the  rationarium  imperii,  which  contained  a 
full  description  of  the  'subject  kingdoms,  pro- 
vinces, taxes  direct  and  indirect '  (regna,provincice, 
tributa  aut  vcetigalia,  Tac.  Ann.  i.  11),  made  out 
by  the  emperor  himself,  especially  as  Varus  was 
slack,  and  inclined  to  favour  Archelaus.  Certain 
riots  mentioned  in  Josephus  (Ant.  xvii.  ii.  4),  in 
which  the  Pharisees  appear,  may  have  been  due  to 
the  census.  Justin  Martyr  (Apol.  i.  34,  46;  Dial, 
c.  Tryph.  78)  ajipeals  to  the  aTroypa4>ai  made  in  the 
time  of  Quirinius,  whom  he  styles  '  the  first  ivi- 
TpoTi-o!  or  procurator  in  Juda>a.'  For  until  Palestine 
became  a  Roman  province  in  A.D.  6  there  could  be 
no  procurator  in  the  strict  sense  of  the  term. 
Previous  to  that,  if  Q.  did  hold  office,  it  would  be  as 
a  military  officer  of  Syria,  and  so  he  might  be  well 
described  by  the  vague  ■qye/xofevoi'TO!,  altliough  the 
word  is  also  applied  (Lk  3')  to  Pilate,  whom  Tacitus 
styled  procurator  (Ann.  xv.  44).  With  reg:ard  to 
the  census,  of  which  no  mention  is  made  in  con- 
temporary history,  it  is  to  be  noted  that  there  is 
evidence  that  periodic  enrolments,  diroypacpai,  were 


410 


DATES 


DATES 


made  in  Ej;ypt  {Class.  Rev.,  Mar.  1893).  Prof. 
Ramsay  {Was  Christ  born  at  Bethlehem/}  builds 
on  these.  It  is  quite  possible  that  a  series  of 
periodical  enrolments  in  a  cycle  of  14  yeai-s  were 
initiated  by  Augustus,  an  indefatigable  statistician, 
in  other  parts  of  the  empire,  and  that  the  first  of 
these  may  have  taken  place  in  the  days  of  Herod, 
who  would  have  carried  it  out  according  to  Jewish 
tastes,  and  so  without  much  disturbance  (unless 
the  riots  of  Ant.  xvil.  ii.  4,  BJ I.  xxxiii.  2  might 
be  connected  with  it),  whereas  the  later  census  was 
conducted  according  to  Roman  ideas,  and  pro- 
voked a  rebellion.  If  this  be  true,  the  hrst  census 
would  occur  B.C.  7-5,  just  where  it  would  be  re- 
quired. Some  hold  that  it  is  possible  that  St. 
Luke  made  a  mistake  in  the  name  Quirinius  (C. 
H.  Turner),  and  also  in  the  census  (von  Soden). 

(c)  Patristic  testimony,  as  represented  by  Iren- 
aeus,  Clement  of  Alexandria,  and  Hippolytus,  and 
perhaps  based  upon  Lk  2-,  favours  a  date  between 
B.C.  3  and  B.C.  2.  Irena;us  wrote,  '  Our  Lord  was 
bora  about  the  41st  year  (B.C.  3,  reckoning  from 
the  death  of  Julius  Cicsar  B.C.  44)  of  the  empire  of 
Augustus  '  {H(cr.  iii.  21.  3).  Clement  stated,  '  Our 
Lord  was  born  in  the  28th  year  (B.C.  3,  counting 
from  battle  of  Actium,  B.C.  31)  of  the  reign  of 
Augustus,  when  first  tliey  ordered  the  enrolments 
to  be  made '  {Strom,  i.  147).  Hippolytus  said,  in 
his  Com.  on  Daniel,  'Our  Lord  was  born  on 
Wednesday,  Dec.  25,  in  the  42nd  (B.C.  2)  year  of 
the  reign  of  Augustus.' 

With  regard  to  the  month  and  day  of  the 
Nativity,  no  data  exist  to  enable  us  to  determine 
them  at  all.  Farrar  {Life  of  Christ,  p.  9)  inferred 
from  tlie  presence  of  the  shepherds  in  the  fields 
that  it  was  during  winter,  but  Lewin  {Fasti  Saeri, 
pp.  23,  115)  argues  for  August  1  as  the  approxi- 
mate date.  Tlie  date  of  the  Annunciation  is  given 
in  Lk  1-''  as  tV  di  tu  ^irjvl  ti}  lKT<f — '  in  the  sixth 
month,'  which  is  generally  referred  to  Lk  1*"  euros 
^Tjf  «7-os  ^o-7-ii'  ai5rj,  k.t.X.,  '  this  month  is  sixth  with 
lier,'  but  which  may  with  equal  probability  refer 
to  the  six  til  month  of  the  Jewish  calendar,  Elul,  or 
to  both  dates,  both  terms  of  si.>c  months  running 
concurrently.  The  date  of  the  service  of  the 
course  of  Abia,  the  eighth  in  order  (1  Ch  24'»),  for 
the  year  748  A.U.C.  (B.C.  6)  has  been  calculated 
from  the  fact  that  the  course  in  waiting  on  Ab  9 
A.D.  70,  when  Jerusalem  was  taken,  was  the  first, 
Jehoiarib (Jannj^A  on  '  Fasting,'  p.  29a  ;  BJvi.  iv.). 
Tills  would  give  courses  of  Abia  for  748  A.U.C, 
B.C.  6,  April  18-24,  and  (24  weeks  later)  October 
3-9.  Six  months  from  the  latter  date  would  give 
a  day  in  March  as  the  date  of  the  Annunciation 
and  a  date  in  December  for  the  Nativity  ;  but  six 
months  from  the  former  date  would  give  Elul,  or 
the  sixth  month  of  the  Jewish  year,  bogiiming 
about  Sept.  19,  for  the  Annunciation,  and  the  third 
month,  Sivan  or  June,  for  the  Incarnation.  Elul 
was  the  month  of  the  constellation  Virgo,  who 
holds  in  her  hand  the  .ipiea  Virginia,  which  may  be 
'the  ottspring  of  a  Virgin.'  The  fourth  month 
belongs  to  Cancer,  among  two  stars  of  which  is  a 
group  called  '  The  Manger.' 

Patristic  tradition.  —  Hippolytus  is  the  first 
to  give  Dec.  25  for  the  date  of  the  Nativity.  On 
his  chair  in  the  library  of  St.  John  Lateran  in 
Rome  his  celebrated  table  is  given.  The  second 
year  of  the  cycle  has  April  2,  yiveai^  XptcroS,  evi- 
dently the  conception,  the  calculation  being  made 
on  the  strength  of  Lk  1*",  which  seems  to  imply  an 
interval  of  6  months  between  the  conception  of  our 
Lord  and  that  of  the  Baptist,  and  on  the  popular 
presumption  th.at  Gabriel  appeared  toZacharias  on 
the  great  Day  of  the  Atonement,  tlie  10th  day  of  the 
seventh  month.  This  would  bring  the  conception 
of  our  Lord  to  the  14th  day  of  the  first  month,  or  the 
Passover  full  moon.     Hippolytus  afterwards,  in  his 


Com.  on  Daniel,  in  order  to  allow  for  two  additional 
years  in  our  Lord's  life,  altered  the  date  April  2 
to  March  25,  on  which  the  Church  has  always 
celebrated  the  conception,  and  consequently  the 
Nativity  was  assigned  to  Dec.  25.  Edersheim  {The 
Temple,  p.  293)  suggests  the  influence  of  the  feast 
of  the  Dedication  of  the  Temple,  held  on  the  25th 
of  Chislev. 

2.  The  Baptism  of  Jesus  miglit  be  settled,  but 
not  very  approximately,  by  (1)  the  statement  (Lk 
3-^)  that  He  was  ijo-ei  erQv  TpiiKovTa.  ipxiiiems  (at  the 
beginning  of  His  ministry) ;  (2)  the  date  of  the 
Baptist's  preaching,  Lk  3'  '  Now  in  the  fifteenth 
year  of  the  reign  of  Tiberius  Ca?sar  .  .  .  the  word 
of  God  came  unto  John  the  son  of  Zacharias  in  the 
wilderness';  and  (3)  by  the  retort  of  the  Jews  in 
Jn  2?"  '  Forty  and  six  years  was  this  temple  in 
building.' 

(1)  This  is  an  elastic  expression,  which  gave  the 
Valentinian  Gnostics  a  basis  for  their  belief  that 
Jesus  was  in  His  30th  year  when  He  came  to  His 
baptism  {Ilwr.  ii.  25.  5).  But  as  Irenwus,  in  his 
reference  to  Jn  8"  'Thou  art  not  yet  fifty  years 
old,'  pointed  out,  40,  not  30,  is  the  perfect  age  of  a 
master  (cf.  Bab.  Aboda  Zara) ;  and  on  the  stiength 
of  this  statement  the  presbyters  in  Asia  Minor, 
who  misled  Irenajus,  ascribed  an  age  of  40  or  50 
years  to  Jesus.  Again,  while  the  maximum  age  of 
a  Levite  was  50  years,  the  minimum  varied  between 
20  (1  Ch  23='-=',  where  the  change  is  ascribed  to 
David),  25  (Nu  43-  •"  LXX),  and  30  (Nu  4?- «  Heb.). 
This  latitude,  added  to  the  general  sense  of  uad 
('  about')  and  the  vague  apxoi'^e''os,  which  is  omitted 
in  Syr.  Sin.,  makes  this  indication  of  our  Lords 
age  indefinite,  and  capable  of  meaning  either  two 
years  over  -ii  ii;: ';   r  ;;'•. 

(2)  Thr  I  ihe  Baptist  is  the  <C)'»iiHH J 
a  quo  01  •  I  Jesus,  and  is  assigned  to 
thel5tll^■  1  i  li  iiu~.  Dating  that  reign  from 
the  death  <.t  Au-u-iu-,  Aug.  19  A.D.  14,  the  15th 
year  corresponds  with  A.D.  28-29.  B.  Weiss  and 
Beyschlag,  however,  count  from  A.D.  12,  when 
Tiberius  was  made  co-regent  with  Augustus.  W. 
M.  Ramsay  has  pointed  out  that  on  July  1  A.D.  71, 
during  the  life  of  the  Evangelist,  Titus  was 
similarly  associated  in  the  empire  with  Vespasian, 
which  would  give  A.D.  26-27  as  the  first  year  of  the 
Baptist's  work.  This  would  agree  with  the  otfice 
of  Pilate,  who  could  hardly  have  arrived  much 
sooner  than  A.D.  27,  as  he  held  office  for  10  years, 
and  was  on  his  way  to  Rome  in  A.D.  37,  when 
Tiberius  died  {Ant.  xvill.  iv.  2).  We  might,  there- 
fore, if  it  is  permitted  to  follow  Weiss  and  Bey- 
schlag, fix  on  A.D.  27-28  for  our  Lord's  baptism. 

(3)  Jn  2-'^  TcaaapdiKovTa  Kai  ^|  IIthtlv  (pKoSofirj0rj  6 
fabs  oiVoy  (cf.  Ezr  5^''  (pKoSoft-q&tj  Kai  ovk  eTeX^adtj). 
The  Jews  do  not  refer,  therefore,  to  tlie  completion 
of  the  restoration,  which  took  place  much  later 
{Ant.  XX.  ix.  7).  This  work  was  begun  in  the  18th 
year  of  Herod  {Ant.  XV.  xi.  1,  reckoning  from 
B.C.  37,  death  of  Antigonus),  in  the  loth  {BJ  I. 
xxi.  1,  reckoning  from  B.C.  40).  This  gives  B.C. 
19-18,  from  which  to  A.D.  28  is  46  years.  The 
Passover  of  A.D.  28  would  be  a  likely  date  for  the 
events  of  Jn  2""^.  The  time  of  Jn  l"-2'-  has  yet 
to  be  settled.  Prof.  Sanday  (art.  '  Jesus  Christ  in 
Hastings'  DB  ii.  609)  gives  the  time  as  '  Winter, 
A.D.  26.'  Now  there  are  certain  indications  of  the 
time  of  year  in  which  our  Lord  was  baptized  which 
show  that  His  visit  to  the  Baptist  may  have  sj-n- 
chronized  with  the  preparations  for  the  Passover 
in  the  month  Adar  (cf.  Jn  11"  'And  the  Jews' 
passover  was  at  hand,  and  many  went  out  of  the 
country  up  to  Jerusalem  before  the  passover  to 
purify  themselves'),  while  His  sojourn  and  fast  in 
the  wilderness,  of  which  St.  M.itthew  .and  St.  Luke 
give  details,  may  have  been  due  not  only  to  a 
desire  to  be  alone  to  reflect  upon  His  mission,  but 


DATES 


DATES 


411 


also  to  the  feeling  of  the  necessity  of  a  great  self- 
restraint  in  order  to  check  the  urgings  of  His 
Messianic  consciousness  to  manifest  Himself  to 
the  Passover  crowds  in  His  connexion  with  His 
country  as  its  Redeemer,  with  the  Temple  as  the 
Son  of  God  and  its  Priest,  and  with  the  world  as 
its  King.  It  was  on  His  return  from  the  desert 
that  He  was  pointed  out  by  the  Baptist,  when  the 
marks  of  the  recent  struggle  and  fasting  on  His 
brow  would  have  given  additional  point  to  the 
Baptist's  remark,  '  Behold  the  Lamb  of  God,  w  Iiith 
taketh  away  tlie  sin  of  the  world '  (Jn  1=^'),  which 
has  a  true  Passover  ring  (cf.  '  Christ  our  passover 
[or  Paschal  lamb,  xi  vdcrxa]  was  sacriticed  for  us,' 
1  Co  5').  Passover  time  would  also  account  for  the 
presence  of  so  many  CialiU-eans  in  Juda?a,  while  the 
atmosphere  of  the  scenes  of  the  baptism  of  Jesus 
and  of  His  interviews  with  His  first  disciples  in 
Jn  1  is  spring,  the  budding  life  of  the  year,  in  the 
buoyant  sunshine  when  mens  IkmiIs  :u-<-  most 
reaay  for  a  change  of  life.  Natliim.K'l,  .-m  Israelite 
without  the  guile  of  Jacob,  at  tin'  fcn-i  r\(lusively 
for  Israelites,  is  meditating  uiidrr  a  lij;  tni',  most 
likely  on  the  story  of  Jacob.  Passover  seems  a 
favourite  time  for  baptism.  It  was  after  the  Pass- 
over of  Jn  2"  that  Jesus  and  His  disciples  baptized 
in  Judiea,  while  Jolin  was  baptizing  in  iEnon  near 
to  Salim  ( Jn  3"'-).  And  it  is  most  improbable  that 
Jesus  would  have  stayed  away  from  the  Passover. 
On  the  other  side  may  be  urged  the  fact  that  Bethahara, 
for  which  the  best  51SS,  nABC,  read  'Bethany,'  lias  been 
identified  by  Conder  with  a  ford  called  'Abdrah,  N.E.  of  Beth- 
shean,  'a  site  as  near  to  Cana  as  any  point  on  the  Jordan,  and 
within  a  day's  journev '  (art.  '  Bethabara '  in  Hastings'  DB).  On 
the  other  hand,  Emyc.  Dibl.  art. '  Bethany '  follows  Sir  G.  Grove 
and  Sir  C.  W.  Wilson  (Smith's  Z>/J2,  «.!).  'Bethnimrah')  in 
holding  that  Beth-nimrah  on  the  east  of  Jordan,  opposite  to 
Jericho,  is  the  place  meant.  Beth-nimrah,  now  known  as 
A-imrtn,i9  'beyond  Jordan,'  t!>«  t.5  'Ufli^ov  (Jn  128  3=6);  it 
19  well  supplied  with  water,  and  accessible  both  from  Jericho 
and  Jerusalem,  and  may  have  produced  the  variants  'Beth- 
abara' and  'Bethany.*  Origen  advocated  Bethabara  because 
he  could  find  no  Bethany  be.\ond  Jordan.  But  the  variant 
B,:flapa3«  for  li-'-.OaiSapcc  is  found  in  his  text.  That  variant  and 
the  traditional  site  of  our  I^ord's  baptism,  Makhadet  Uajla^  arc 
strongly  against  Col.  C'otider's  suggestion,  while  tradition  con- 
nects our  Lord's  temptation  with  the  district  of  Quarantania, 
named  from  His  40  days'  fast ;  and  something  must  be  allowed 
for  tradition  in  such  matters.  'The  third  day'  of  Jn  21  may 
possibly  be  counted  from  Jn  l-*3  '  On  the  day  after.'  But  it  is 
probable,  in  fact  it  is  to  be  inferred  from  His  mother's  informa- 
tion of  the  exhausted  wine,  that  our  Lord  was  not  present  on 
the  first  day  of  the  marriage  festivities,  which  generally  extended 
over  a  week,  and  were  concluded  with  a  supper  (art. '  Marriage ' 
in  Hastings'  DB\  and  it  was  quite  possible  for  Him  and  His  dis- 
ciples to  have  accomplished  the  journey  from  the  vicinity  of 


Jericho  to  Nazareth  (about  60 

that  there  is  no  necessity  to  select  a  site  for  His  bapt 
J  day's  journey  of  Cana.     A|^;  '      '"     '  "     " 


■ithir 


- .  of  Cana.     Again,  the  favourite  time  for 

March  (Wetzstein  in  Ztschr.  f.  Ethnol.  v.  [1873)). 
So  that  we  have  another  indication  of  the  early  season  of  the 
year,  which  supports  the  h}potliesis  of  a  baptism  at  the  Pass- 
over preceding  the  Passover  of  Jn  21^,  a  period  of  time  required 
for  the  preparation  and  selection  of  the  disciples,  and  for  the 
nursing  of  their  nascent  faith  bv  miracles,  of  which  one,  a 
typical  sign,  as  are  all  the  seven  signs  in  the  Fourth  Gospel,  is 
narrated  in  Jn  V-^-.  To  this  faith  reference  is  made  in  v." 
*And  his  disciples  believed  in  him.'  Nor  does  the  Master's 
change  of  manner  (v,'-i  '  But  Jesus  would  not  trust  himself  to 
them')  suggest  the  beginning  of  a  mission. 

The  order  in  St.  Mark's  Gospel  is  of  little  service 
liere._  For  Mk  l"  ('  Now  after  that  John  wa,s  put 
in  prison  Jesus  came  into  Galilee  preaching')  refers 
to  an  event,  the  imprisonment  of  the  Baptist,  which 
was  clearly  later  than  Jn  4',  and  is,  therefore,  to 
be  taken  not  as  a  note  of  time,  but  as  a  general 
introduction  to  the  Galilaean  ministry,  which  forms 
the  subject  of  the  Second  Gospel.  The  selection 
of  the  disciples  (Mk  P^'i^),  the  missionary  work  of 
Mk  1™  i!i7WMei'  cit  Tds  dxoixivat  Ku/ioTrdXei's,  a  portion 
of  Mk  1-3,  and  apparently  Lk  5'-"  (tlie  scene  with 
Peter  on  the  lake),  may'behui^'  to  the  (ialila-an 
work  previous  to  Jn2".  On  this  hyiKithesis,  wliich 
lills  in  the  awkward  gap  between  ('he  13th  and  14tli 
verses  of  Mk  1,  the  baptism  of  .lesus  would  fall  on 
tlie  Passover  of  a.d.  27. 


3.  Length  of  the  Ministry.  — If  the  date  of 
the  beginning  of  the  ministry  be  appro.\imately 
lixed,  the  year  of  its  close  will  vary  according  to 
the  estimate  we  form  of  its  length.  Prof,  von 
Soden  (Encyc.  Bibl.  art.  'Chronology')  reduces  it 
to  a  one  year  basis,  while  Prof.  Sanday  (art. 
'Jesus  Christ'  in  Hastings'  DB  ii.  610)  retjuires 
nearly  2^  years  for  his  scheme  of  our  Lord's 
miiii>tiv.  This  difl'erence  is  due  to  the  fact  that 
St.  .Iiiliii  seems  to  extend  that  ministry  over  three 
I'assoveis,  while  the  Synoptists  mention  but  one 
Passover. 

(a)  In  the  Second  Gospel  there  seem  to  be  three 
data  for  a  chronology.  (1)  Mk  2=^  mentions  ears 
of  corn  {riWoi'Tes  Toii  (rraxvas).  As  the  earliest 
barley  was  in  April,  the  latest  in  June,  it  is  be- 
lieved that  the  point  of  time  we  have  here  is  Pass- 
over, which  was  of  old  associated  with  '  ears  of 
corn';  the  name  of  the  month  in  which  it  was 
held  being  formerly  'Abib  T2K  or    'ear  of   corn.' 

(2)  Mk  6»"  describes  the  miracle  of  tlie  feeding  of 
the  .5000,  in  the  course  of  which  wo  read  that  the 
peojile  were  arranged  in  companies,  irpaaai  vpa.<nal 
(a  phrase  suggestive  fif  garden-plots),  and  seated 
iwl  Ti}  x^"PV  XopTv,  an  indication  of  early  spring. 

(3)  Mk  11,  linal  Passuvcr.  In  these  data  Turner 
('Chronology  of  NT  '  in  Hastings'  DB)  sees  a  sug- 
gestion of  a  two  years'  ministry.  But  it  is  evident 
that  the  arrangement  of  this  Gospel  is  according 
to  subject-matter,  not  to  time.  The  time  relation 
of  the  episode  of  the  ears  of  corn  cannot  be  satis- 
factorily settled  with  regard  either  to  the  events  it 
precedes  or  those  it  follows  in  the  narrative.  It 
IS,  therefore,  quite  possible  that  it  preceded  the 
Passover  of  Jn  2".  In  St.  Luke's  Gospel  it  occurs 
shortly  after  the  scene  with  St.  Peter  on  the  Lake 
(Lk  5'-"),  wliich  must  have  preceded  Jn  3=^  where 
Jesus  and  His  dhcip/cs  go  into  the  land  of  Judiea 
and  continue  baptizing  there ;  and  in  both  the 
.Second  and  Third  Gosjiels  it  directly  follows  the 
question,  'Why  do  the  disciples  of  John  and  of  the 
Pharisees  fast,  and  thy  disciples  fast  not  ?,'  which 
occasioned  the  Parable  of  the  Bridegroom  and  the 
Children  of  the  Bridechamber,  which  seemingly 
but  not  really  corresponds  with  the  discussion  in 
Jn  3-"  between  the  disciples  of  John  and  a  Jew 
about 'purifying,' which  evoked  from  the  Baptist 
the  rhapsody  on  the  bride  and  bridegroom.  For 
the  questions  are  quite  difi'ereiit,  and  belong  to 
distinctly  ditterent  contexts  ;  that  in  the  Synoptists 
being  caused  by  the  feast  of  Levi  and  perhaps  in- 
directly by  the  feast  at  Cana  of  Galilee,  while  that 
of  the  Fourth  Gospel  arose  in  connexion  with  the 
work  in  Juda?a  after  the  Passover  of  Jn  '2''. 

No  fresh  light  is  thrown  on  the  passage  by  the 
disputed  point  of  time  €y  tra/ificlTifj  SevTfpoirpuiTi^, 
which  Wetstein  explains  as  thelirst  Sabbath  of  the 
second  month,  .Scaliger  as  the  first  Sabbath  after 
the  Feast  of  Unleavened  Bread,  Godet  as  the  lirst 
Sabbath  of  the  ecclesiastical  year.  The  ripeness 
of  the  wheat  suggests  the  month  of  lyyar  or  May. 
And  it  is  quite  possible  to  conceive  our  Lord  in 
that  month  (called  in  the  old  style  Zii-  (ii)  or  the 
'month  of  flowers,'  and  in  the  new  slyle  'lyyar 
(i;x)  or  'the  bright  and  flowering  month')  teaching 
the  people  in  the  plain  and  on  the  hill  to  'consider 
the  lilies  of  the  field,  how  they  grow'  (Mt  6=*).  It 
seems  not  impossible,  therefore,  to  reconstruct  the 
Second  Gospel  on  the  basis  of  a  single  year  follow- 
ing the  Passover  of  Jn  2",  with  a  year  or  greater 
part  of  a  year  previous  to  that  Passover. 

(/-)  St.  Luke  s  Gospel  is  divisible  into  two  parts. 
The  second  (9™-19^'  containing  matter  peculiar  to 
him),  being  devoted  to  the  doings  and  teachings  of 
the  M.astcr  as  the  days  of  His  assumption  were 
being  fulliUed  (9'''),  seems  to  restrict  the  Lord's 
ministry  to  a  single  ye.ar,  'the  acceptable  year  of 
the  Lord  '  (4"  ;  cf.  Is"()F).     The  reference  to  '  three 


412 


DATES 


DATES 


years 'in  the  parable  of  the  Fig-tree  (13'),  which 
suggested  to  many  (Bengel  among  others)  the  be- 
ginning of  a  third  year  of  ministry,  is  a  vague 
expression  to  which  13^-  ('to-day  and  to-morrow, 
and  on  the  third  day')  might  be  a  parallel.  In 
4"-9™  there  is  but  one  apparent  reference  to  any 
work  outside  the  Galiloean,  'lovSaias  (NBCL)  of  i** 
being  a  variant  for  TaXiXaios.  But  '  Jud;ea '  in  tlie 
days  of  St.  Luke  included  all  Palestine  (cf.  23=). 

(c)  The  Fourth  Gospel  has  seven  notes  of  time 
between  the  Baptism  and  the  Crucifixion  : 

(1)  213.2a  'And  the  Jews'  passover  \v.as  at  hand,  and  Jesus 

went  up  to  Jerusalem  .  .  .  And  he  was  in  Jerusalem 
at  the  passover  during  the  feast.' 

(2)  435  '  Say  ye  not,  There  are  yet  four  months  (TtT/ut^r,.).-), 

and  then  cometh  harvest?  behold,  I  say  unto  you,  Lift 
up  your  eyes,  and  consider  (Hsio-airbe)  the  fields  that  they 
are  whit«  already  to  harvest.* 

(3)  51  '  After  these  things  there  was  a  [or  the)  feast  of  the 

Jews,  .iiid  Jesus  went  ujj  to  Jerusalem.' 

(4)  Ci  '  Nnw  ftlif  p.issover,  TO  Ta<r;t«,  uncertain]  the  feast  of 

{')  7-  '  N>\\  til''  .lews'  feast  of  tabernacles  was  at  hand.* 
(I')  1"^-  'Th''n  t  lie  dedication  took  place  in  Jerusalem.* 
(7)  IJ'  '.I'siis  then,  six  days  before  the  passover,  came  to 


Jn  -ip  (a)  ovx  itieh  \eyerc  on  en  TeTpdiir)i>6s  ianv  Koi 
6  depiap-m  Ipxerai. ;  (/3)  iSov,  Xiyw  v/uv  .  .  .  on  \evKai 
eiaiv  irpbs  0(pi(!p.6v,  is  a  difficult  note  of  time.  Tlie 
simplest  interpretation  is  to  take  a  literally  of  a 
harvest  still  remote,  and  j3  spiritually  of  a  harvest 
already  ripening.  Origen,  however,  held  that  it  was 
already  the  middle  or  end  of  harvest  when  these 
things  happened  (mi  Joan.  tom.  xiii.  39.  41) ;  but 
it  is  evident  that  our  Lord  made  no  long  delay  in 
Jud«a  after  the  unpleasantness  that  had  occurred 
between  His  disciples  and  Jolin's,  and  it  would  not 
be  long  before  the  popular  Baptist,  with  his  great 
following,  would  hear  of  liis  greater  Rival  (Jn  3-"), 
or  before  the  Pharisees  would  note  the  falling  oil' 
of  the  Baptist's  followers.  The  fact  that  the  im- 
pression His  works  in  Jerusalem  had  made  on  the 
Galilaeans  was  still  fresh  (Jn  4*=),  and  that  He  did 
not  tarry  more  than  two  days,  possibly  only  one 
(fieTo.  di  TO.!  Bvo  •^/ifpas,  Jn  4''^),  among  the  kindly 
and  believing  Samaritans,  and  that  He  was  wearied 
with  the  journey  (4"),  points  to  no  long  inter\-al 
between  2'*  and  4-'=  and  to  no  leisurely  mode  of 
travelling.  Again,  the  word  In  has  a  touch  of 
reality,  which  suggests  tlie  natural  interpretation 
of  Terpa/ivos  against  those  who  would  read  the 
pa.ssage  proverbially  :  '  Is  it  not  a  sayin"  that  there 
are  four  months  between  sowing  and  reaping?' 
There  is  nothing,  however,  to  prevent  one  taking 
the  lateness  of  the  Galihean  harvest  into  account, 
and  reading  the  pa.ssage  thus :  '  Say  ye  not,  ye 
men  of  Galilee,  wliere  the  harvest  is  later  than  in 
Judaja,  where  Jeroboam  lield  his  feast  of  ingatlier- 
ing  on  the  15th  day  of  the  eighth  month  (1  K 
12"-)  instead  of  on  the  15th  day  of  the  seventh  (Lv 
23*"),  that  harvest  is  yet  four  months  ofi'?'  If 
these  words  were  spoken  towards  the  end  of  Kisan, 
the  four  months  referred  to  would  be  Nisan 
(March-April,  end),  lyyar  (April  -  May),  Sivan 
(May-June),  and  "Thammuz  (June-July,  begin- 
ning). This  would  be  in  keeping  with  the  fact 
that  the  harvest  naturally  varied  not  only  with 
season,  but  also  with  elevation,  etc.,  and  that, 
while  it  commenced  in  the  lowlands  of  the  Jordan 
Valley  in  April,  it  ended  on  sub-alpine  Lebanon  in 
August  (see  art.  '  Wheat '  in  Hastings'  DB). 

Jn  5'  '  And  there  was  a  feast  of  the  Jews,  and 
Jesus  went  up  to  Jerusalem '  (with  alternative 
readings,  ioprri  antl  rj  eopr^,  the  latter  being  sup- 
ported by  the  Alexandrian  type  of  text,  doubtless 
through  the  influence  of  Eusebius,  who  maintained 
a  three  years'  ministry  with  four  Passovers). 
What  this  feast  was  cannot  definitely  be  s.aid. 
Iren.TUs  regarded  it  as  a  Passover.  The  early 
Greek  Church  identified  it  with  Pentecost.     'We-^i- 


cott  {ad  loc.)  suggests  Trumpets  (September),  as 
'many  of  the  main  thoughts  of  the  discourse- 
Creation,  Judgment,  and  Law — find  a  remarkable 
illustration  in  the  thoughts  of  the  festival.'  But 
Ex  19'  states  that  it  was  in  the  third  month  {i.e. 
after  Passover)  that  the  Law  was  given  on  Sinai. 
This  would  correspond  with  Pentecost,  which  is 
described  in  the  later  Jewish  liturgy  as  '  tlie  day  of 
tlie  giving  of  the  Law '  (Saalschiitz,  Das  3Ios.  Becht, 
p.  42«),  and  by  Maimonides  (Moreh  neb.  iii.  41)  as 
'dies  ille  quo  lex  data  fuit.'  Furthermore,  the 
strict  regulations  and  calculations  of  the  Sabbaths 
of  the  harvest  period  between  Nisan  16  and  Pente- 
cost, the  Feast  of  Weeks,  add  point  to  the  contro- 
versy concerning  the  Sabbath  day  (Jn  5'"'"*).  The 
voluntary  nature  of  the  cure,  a  contrast  with  tlie 
signs  of  2".  and  4"  performed  by  request,  suggests 
that  this  act  was  in  accordance  with  the  Pente- 
costal regulations  of  Dt  16'",  a  free-will  offering  of 
His  own  hand,  and  tici'diiliiii;-  to  Lv  23"  the  glean- 
ing of  His  harxr'^t  f"r  ih''  i"Mjr. 

There  is  a  u-'iiil  iii'li.  mI  ion  of  time  in  Jn  o-"-'", 
where  the  Baptist,  wlmse  popularity  is  waning  in 
4',  and  whose  utterance  in  2i^-^  seems  to  contain  a 
presentiment  of  doom — '  He  must  increase,  but  I 
must  decrease ' — is  referred  to  as  a  lamp  that  no 
longer  shines.  '  He  was  the  burning  and  shining 
lamp,  and  ye  were  willing  for  a  time  to  rejoice  in 
his  light.'  It  is  probable  that  Herod  Antipas, 
who  was  jealous  and  suspicious  of  the  Baptist's 
influence  (Ant.  XVIII.  v.  1),  seized  the  opportunity 
of  his  decreasing  popularity  to  have  him  betrayed 
(Trapa.5oB9)va.i.,  !Mk  1")  and  arrested.  The  report 
of  that  arrest  may  have  reached  our  Lord  on  HLs 
journey  through  Samaria  to  Galilee  (Jn  4).  If  so, 
the  Synoptic  statements  of  Mk  1'*,  Mt  4",  regard- 
ing His  work  in  Galilee  as  connected  with  the 
imprisonment  of  the  Baptist  would  be  suitably 
introduced  by  the  healing  of  the  nobleman's  son 
at  Capernaum  (Jn  4''^"=^). 

The  interval  allowed  by  the  Synoptists  between 
the  arrest  and  the  death  of  the  Bajitist,  in  wliich 
room  is  found  for  an  extended  work  of  Jesus  in 
Galilee  (Capernaum  especially,  Mt  11'-""),  for  the 
Baptist's  mission  to  Jesus  (IP),  and  for  Herod's 
procrastination  with  the  Baptist,  whom  lie  feiired, 
tried  to  keep  safe,  and  for  whom  he  did  many 
things  (Mk  6""),  is  also  allowed  in  the  Fourth 
Gospel.  In  it  Jesus  is  represented  as  walking 
in  Galilee  (7'"'")  before  the  Feast  of  Tabernacles, 
nearly  five  months  (Sivan  8-Tishri  15)  after  the 
Feast  of  Pentecost  (5'),  but  not  afterwards, — a  fact 
which  is  in  agreement  with  the  Synoptic  account 
(Lk  9'",  Mt  14",  Mk  6^'),  which  describes  our 
Lord  withdrawing  from  the  jurisdiction  of  Herod 
Antipas  to  Bethsaida  Julias,  C.-esarea  Philijipi, 
and  other  districts  of  Herod  Philip— the  best  of  all 
the  Hcruds—  in  cuiisequence  of  the  former's  identi- 
ticatioii  I'l  lliiii  with  the  Baptist,  whom  he  had 
beheailr.l  ,M1.  li"). 

With  rr-ai.l  to  the  date  of  the  Baptist's  execu- 
tion, Keim,  Hausrath,  Schenkel,  and  others,  on 
the  strength  of  Josephus'  account  of  the  defeat  of 
Antipas  by  Aretas  (A.D.  36),  in  connexion  with  his 
narrative  of  the  Baptist's  death,  which  the  Jews 
regarded  as  divinely  avenged  in  that  battle,  have 
held  that  the  divorce  of  Herod  Antipas'  wife 
cannot  have  been  long  before  A.D.  36.  But  Jose- 
phus notes  also  a  dispute  about  boundaries  in 
Gamalitis  (Ant.  xvill.  v.  1)  as  subsequent  to  the 
divorce  of  the  daughter  of  Aretas,  wliich  he  de- 
scribes as  '  the  first  occasion '  of  the  bitterness  be- 
tween him  and  Herod.  And  there  is  nothing  in 
(lie  annals  of  the  Herods  to  controvert  the  date 
A.D.  28  for  the  scene  in  the  castle  of  Macha;rus  as 
described  in  the  SjTioptics.  In  fact,  A.D.  28  would 
be  ,a  more  suitable  date  for  the  elopement  of 
Herodias,  and    the   description    of    her  daughter 


DATES 


DATES 


413 


Salome  as  t6  Kopdjcov  (Mk  6-^"-"),  than  A.u.  3b. 
Hevodias  was  the  sister  of  Agvippal.,  who  {Ant. 
XIX.  viii.  2)  was  54  years  old  when  he  died  m  A.D. 
44,  and  was,  therefore,  born  B.C.  10.  Herodias 
must  have  been  born  shortly  before  or  after,  as 
she  was  betrothed  by  Herod  the  Great  {Ant.  XVII. 
i.  2),  after  the  death  of  her  father  Aristobulus 
(B.C.  7),  when  quite  a  child,  to  Philip  his  son  by 
Mariamne  II.,  daughter  of  Simon  the  high  priest, 
whom  he  married  in  the  13th  year  of  his  reign, 
c.  B.C.  24  {Ant.  XV.  ix.  3).  Herodias  would,  there- 
fore, be  about  37  years  old,  and  her  husband  52  in 
A.D.  28,  and  her  daughter  Salome  not  more  than  18, 
as  Herodias  was  married  '  when  arrived  at  age  of 
puberty'  {Atit.  XVIII.  v.  4).  In  A.D.  36  she  would  be 
45  years  of  age,  and  Salome  26.  The  former  age  is, 
therefore,  more  probable.  The  fact  that  retribution 
was  connected  with  the  defeat  in  A.D.  36  proves 
nothing,  as  retribution  is  proverbially  long  delayed. 
The  fourth  point  of  time  is  Jn  6^.  The  difficulty 
in  it  is  the  reading  to  iriax'^-  By  many  it  is  re- 
tained ;  by  others  omitted.  If  it  is  retained,  there 
are  three  Passovers  mentioned  in  Jn.  (2'^  6*  12'), 
making  the  ministry  extend  over  two  years.  But 
if  it  is  removed,  this  feast  of  the  Jews  becomes 
identified  with  the  Feast  of  Tabernacles  of  T:  And 
the  chronology  of  the  ministry  can  be  reckoned  on 
the  basis  of  a  year  and  several  months  previous. 
123-2'=.  Work  in  Galilee. 
2'^.  Passover  in  Jerusalem  (Nisan). 
5'.  Pentecost  in  Sivan  (May-June  1). 
6^.  Tabernacles  in  Tishri  (September-October). 
V.    Tabernacles  in  Tishri. 

10".  Dedication  in  Chislev  (November-Decem- 
ber). 
Ip5.  Passover  in  Nisan  (March- April). 
Hort  urges  the  omission  o(  t«  rr«o-j;«,  which  is  supported 
(1)  by  documentary  evidence  ;  (2)  by  the  fact  that  X'C"*  t«x« 
of  Jn  610  apparently  =,;X».,i;  x'P-"!'  ol  Mk  639 ;  (3)  by  the  note 
(Jn  71),  'After  these  things  Jesus  walked  (Tsf.iTKT!,)  in  l^a]ilee_, 
which  implies  some  interval  between  the  events  of  chs.  b  and  i, 
but  on  the  Tabernacles  hypothesis  sufficient  time  would  not  be 
allowed,  as  the  same  feast  was  'near'  inO-i  and  in  ,-;  .ind  (*)'^'^ 
said  that  St.  John,  who  was  writing  for  Christians  who  had  holy 
associations  with  Passover  and  Pentecost  but  not  with  Taber- 
nacles, would  hardly  have  spoken  of  that  feast  as  the  Feast 
nir'  lin'.:  On  the  other  hand,  it  is  more  than  probable  (1) 
that  Irenaeus  would  have  mentioned  6*  among  the  Passovers,  if 
he  knew  of  it,  even  though  ostensibly  he  was  merely  recording 
the  Passovers  at  which  our  Lord  went  up  to  Jerusalem,  as  his 
main  object  was  to  confute  the  Gnostics,  who  held  that  Jesus 
suffered  a  year  after  His  baptism  (H<er.  ii.  22.  3) ;  (2)  that  in^= 
is  a  vague  term  allowing  for  comparative  nearness,  and  our  Lorci 
did  not  hurry  Himself  for  the  feast,  arriving  only  in  the  middle 
of  it(7i-i);  (3)  that  Origen's  Com.,  on  St.  John  clearly  postulates 
the  omission  of  a  Passover  between  i'^  and  7- ;  (4)  that  St.  John 
wrote  as  one  familiar  with  Jewish  fasts  and  feasts,  and  Josephus 
(Ant.  vin.  iv.  1)  calls  the  Feast  of  Tabernacles  lof-"!  o-»eJ/i«  T«f « 
™-,v  'K.s.^/a.t  iv.^rirv,  ««i  u-iyirT,,,  and  it  is  in  OT  sometimes 
Ezk  45=5) ;  (5)  that  the  tradition  of 
1  more  easilv  confuted  by  Irenieus 
■r  in  Jn  6^  than  by  an  attempt  to 
b  a  Passover ;  (6)  that  the  Alogi, 
according"  to  Epiphanius  (Hasr.  61.  22),  found  in  Jn.  only  a 
Passover  at  the  beginning  and  another  at  the  end  of  His 
^ta.  might  have  easily  been 


'barley'  loaves  (i,.r.L;;  ^p,ll.,«^0,  which,  however,  has  a  nearer 
reference  to  the  offerings  (two  leavened  loaves  of  the  best 
wheat,  etc.)  and  customs  of  Pentecost,  which  was  distinguished 
by  thank-offerings  (.niinn  ny  =  iix<'P'"''"^0  »"<!  festive  gather- 
ings for  the  poor  (Lv  2422) ;  (S)  that  the  insertion  of  a  Pa.ssover 
here  would  break  the  unity  of  the  plot  and  interfere  with  the 
development  of  the  drama  from  Jn  213  to  121,  creating  a  gap 
between  chs.  4  and  6  out  of  all  proportion  to  the  other  intervals 
in  the  Gospel  after  Jn  213.  These  reasons  are  not  conclusive, 
but  they  are  sufficient  to  prove  the  possibility  of  to  T«irj:«  being 
an  early  gloss  on  -n  ioprvi. 

T!ie  interval  between  the  Feast  of  Tabernacles 
(Tishri,  A.D.  28)  and  the  Passover  (14  Nisan,  A.D. 
29)  is  sufficiently  ample  to  allow  for  the  work 
inthetowiisiif  (•■,.^,.,n;,  riiill|.i.i  (Mk  S='l.  the  piv- 
paration  nf  l!i  .'1  |  '.  <•  ,  lli^  .Ir.'iili  (1,1;  '.)-'-•■ 
Mk  8"),   111-    ! --   ''  -1^   'l^'V.    nfirr   (Ml 

17'-"),  His    ^lu^^     ,„,.,P      -     lu    •,l,TU-;ilr,„,    |,n-,vj,.,l 

by  the  Seventy'  (Lk   lU').    -when    the  days  were 


well-nigh  come  that  He  should  be  received  up'  (Lk 
9"''),  tlie  visit  to  Jerusalem  at  the  Feast  of  Dedica- 
tion (Jn  10--),  His  work  in  the  Perwa  (Jn  10",  Mk 
10'),  and  in  the  wilderness  of  Judaea  (Jn  11").  A 
ministry  from  Passover  A.D.  27,  when  He  was 
baptized,  to  Passover  A.D.  29,  is  quite  long  enough 
to  allow  for  the  development  of  the  life  of  the 
Master,  and  for  the  many  journeys  and  missionary 
tours  in  a  district  as  small  as  Wales,  and  where  the 
festivals  at  the  capital  were  so  frequent.  The  details 
would  be  distinctly  meagre  for  a  longer  mission. 

i.  Date  of  the  Crucifixion.— The  procuratorship 
of  Pilate  and  the  high  priesthood  of  Caiaphas 
roughly  indicate  the  date.  Josephus  {Ant.  XVIII. 
ii.  2)  notes  the  appointment  of  Valerius  Gratus  by 
Tiberius  (c.  A.D.  14-15),  his  return  to  Rome  after 
11  years  {c.  A.D.  25-26),  and  the  appointment  of 
Pilate  in  his  place.  In  Ant.  XVIH.  iv.  2  we  read 
that  'Pilate  when  he  had  tarried  10  years  in 
Judzea  made  haste  to  Rome  ;  but  before  he  could 
reach  Rome,  Tiberius  died'  (A.D.  37).  His  office 
might  be,  therefore,  dated  A.D.  26-36.  Pilate  at 
the  trial  of  Jesus  seems  to  have  already  had 
trouble  with  the  Jews  and  Galila;ans  and  Herod. 
His  yielding  to  them  in  the  present  instance 
through  fear  of  their  accusing  him  to  Tiberius, 
and  his  release  of  'a  notable  iirisoner'  {diirfj-iov 
iTrla-nixov,  Mt  27'«),  'who  for  a  ceitnin  insurrection 
made  in  the  city  and  for  munlrr'  (Lk  li:!''')  'was 
lying  bound  with  them  thiil  li.ul  iiia.lr  insurrec- 
tion' (Mk  15'),  imply  at  lea.st.  |«.l  ..I  I  hu  10  years 
of  cross  purposes  which  markud  I'ilaLe  .^  rule,  but 
need  not  be  ascribed  to  the  censure  received  from 
Tiberius,  c.  A.D.  33,  on  accomit  of  the  votive 
shields  (Philo,  Legat.  ad  Gaium,  §  38),  as  he  had 
in  his  very  first  year  of  office  experienced  the  in- 
flexibility of  the  Jews  {Ant.  XVIII.  iii.  1).  A  Pass- 
over earlier  than  that  of  A.D.  28  would  hardly  suit. 
The  high  priesthood  of  Annas,  referred  to  in  Jn 
1149  igu.  24^  is  a  termimis  ad  quern  of  the  Crucifixion, 
his  deposition  occurring  about  the  same  time  as 
Herod  Philip's  death.  It  is  assigned  by  Josephus 
{Ant.  XVIII.  IV.  3,  6)  to  the  20th  year  of  Tiberius. 
The  latest  possible  date  of  the  Crucifixion  would 
thus  be  A.D.  34,  the  earliest  A.D.  26. 

As  it  is  hard  to  believe  that  such  an  event  would 
not  be  exactly  chronicled  by  the  Church,  it  is  quite 
possible  to  regard  Lk  3'—'  m  the  fifteenth  year  of 
Tiberius  '—as  an  indication  of  the  '  acceptable  year 
of  the  Lord'  which  terminated  on  the  cross, 
whether  with  Bratke  {SK,  1S92)  we  regard  that 
acceptable  year  as  terminating  in  the  lotli,  or 
with  von  Soden  {Enci/c.  Bibl.  art.  'Chronology') 
in  the  16tli  of  Tiberius.  A  well-known  tradition 
of  the  Church  assigns  the  Crucifixion  to  the  con- 
sulship of  the  Gemini,  L.  Rubetlius  and  C.  Kufius, 
A.D.  '29,  which  year,  according  to  the  strict  method 
of  computation  from  Aug.  A.D.  14,  would  corre- 
spond -vvith  Tiberius  15,  but,  counting  as  a  year 
the  semester  Aug.  A.D.  14-Jan.  A.D.  15,  when 
the  consuls  dated  their  term  of  office,  would  be 
Tiberius  16. 


^iw 


the  chronology  ot  the  fai^sion  ami  hi  i 
from  Tiberius  15  to  the  razing  ol  11 
(Horn,  in  Hierem.  xix.  13).  Tertullia 
the  reign  Christ  suffered  .         "' "  *' 


Fridav,  March  25,  in  the  18th  .\v;, 
ship  of  llufus  and  Rubellio,'  evi.l. 
line.'  >.';irB'  ministry  with  I,k  :ii, 
u!  niir  I.iiid's  life  is  estimated  at  :; 
tiH'lli'  ml,    No.    xviii.,    suggests    I 

i  111 l-^   of  the  latter  work  in 

SI.  .Inhii's  chronology  was  inrm 
uiinislry.     In  the  tables  of  Hijipi. 


f  the  Crucifixion  the 
ia :  '  With  the  16th 
.'  completed  the  30 
I ;  '  If  you  examine 
1  of  Jerusalem  .  .  . 


DATES 


DATES 


vhieh,  I 


lint'  ^^^^   I'y  i^^-Vi^l" 


Gemini,  \s , 
AeU  of  !■> 

Tiberius  IG  (in  t 
Tiberius  15  (Latir 
who  wrote  :  'Intl 
ship  of  the  Gen 
Chronicle,  which 
Buls,  March  25 ' ;  a: 
the  Gemini,  iMarcl 
Christian  traditior 
to  by  Ori;jen  (c. 


_.rsted  by  the  consulship  of  the 
_n(^-;  erroneously  with  or  after  the 
1  Rubellio.  Other  authorities  who 
ric uiius.  who  seems  to  hover  between 
-k  of  Eusebius,  Dei/t.  Evang.)  and 
ime's  Com.  in  Van.  ix.) ;  Lactantius, 
ear  of  Tiberius,  that  is,  in  the  consul- 
Iv.  Inst.  IV.  x.  18);  the  Liberian 
nder  Tiberius,  the  two  Gemini  con- 
stim-  (id-  Civ.  Dei,  xviii.  64):  'Consuls 
L.n.  -0  is  therefore  well  supported  by 
I'tt''  of  the  annalist  Phle^'on,  referred 
:;.:),  and  the  Chronicle  of  Eusebius 
(under  01.  202.  4  =  .\.ri.  :i--:;.i),  whi(-h  mentions  the  earthquake  in 
Bithynia  and  the  darkness  at  the  sixth  hour  of  the  da.v,  ob- 
viously comes  from  some  unreliable  Christian  source. 

(a)  Daif  of  week  and  month.— Borne  indications 
of  the  day  of  the  ^veek  are  found  in  Scrijiture. 
Tlie  general  belief  that  the  Crucifixion  took  pl.tce 
on  Friday  is  founded  on  inference  from  the  fact 
that  He  rose  '  on  the  third  day,'  ttj  Tphri  riinipq. 
(1  Co  15^),  the  Jews  counting  their  daj-s  inclusively. 
Westcott,  however,  held  that  it  took  place  on  a 
Thursday,  on  account  of  the  '  three  days  and  three 
nights'  of  Mt  12",  a  saying  found  only  there,  and 
evidently  equivalent  to  'on  the  third  day'  (Gn 
42"- 18,  fist  4'«  and  5'). 

(6)  Day  of  month. — The  question  is.  Did  tlie 
Crucifixion  take  place  on  the  Passover,  Nisan  15, 
or  on  the  day  preceding,  Kisan  14  ?  This  question 
also  concerns  the  relation  of  the  Passover  to  the 
Last  Supper ;  for  while,  strictly  speaking,  both 
events  took  place  on  the  same  day,  on  the  Jewish 
reckoning  from  evening  to  evening,  according  to 
the  ordinary'  Roman  metliod  the  Crucifixion  fell  a 
day  later  tlian  the  Supper.  Sanday  (Authorship 
and  Historical  Character  of  the  Fourth  Gospel), 
Westcott  (Introduction  to  the  Gospels),  and  many 
others  maintain  that  it  took  place  on  Nisan  14. 
The  principal  chamjiion  for  Nisan  15  is  Edersheim, 
who  holds  that  the  Last  Supper  synchronized  with 
the  Passover,  and  that  the  Pascha  of  which  the 
Jews  desired  to  partake  was  the  Chaffigah  or 
festive  offering  of  the  first  festive  Paschal  day. 
The  SjTioptists  in  some  places  identify  the  last 
meal  with  the  Passover,  but  in  others  give  indica- 
tions of  an  opposite  view  ;  while  the  Fourth  Gospel 
gives  unqualified  support  to  the  opinion  that  the 
feast  of  which  our  Lord  partook  had  a  quasi-Paschal 
significance,  and  preceded  in  order  to  supersede 
the  Jewish  Passo\er.  A  list  of  passages  from  the 
Gospels  for  both  views  makes  this  clear : 
For  Nisan  \i,  the  Passover— 
Mt  261'  •  The  first  day  of  the  feast  of  unleavened  bread  the 
disciples  came  to  Jesus,  saying  unto  him.  Where  wilt  thou 
that  we  prepare  for  thee  to  eat  the  Passover?* 
Lk  22'  'Then  came  the  day  of  unleavened  bread,  when  the 

Passover  must  be  killed.' 
Mk  1412  '.\nd  the  first  dav  of  unleavened  bread,  when  thev 

killed  the  Passover.' 
Lk221=  -Withdesir 
vou  before  I  suffei 
For'yisan  14— 
Jnl3i  -Xow  before 

Jn  182**  '  And  they  themselves  went  not  into  the  prietorium, 
lest  they  should  be  defiled,  but  that  thev  might  eat  the 
Passover.' 
Jn  1329  ■  Buy  that  we  have  need  of  for  the  feast.' 
.fn  11)14  'And  it  was  the  prejiaration  of  the  Passover.' 
Jn  ID'l  'Since  it  was  the  preparation,  and  that  .Sabbath  dav 

wasa  hifrhday.' 
Mt26»-5  'Then  assembled  together  the  chief  priests  .  .  .  and 
consulted  that  they  mipht  Uke  Jesus  by  subtilty  and  kill 
him.    But  they  said.  Sot  on  the. feast  da)/,  lest  there  be 
uproar  amonL'  the  people '  (cf.  Mk  142). 

>It  2762  '  Now  tli^  

pa  ration.' 
Lk  2354  ■  And  that  day  was  the  preparation,  and  the  Sabbath 

drew  on.' 
Other  incidents  in  the  Synoptics  point  to  Nisan 
14,  such  ••us  the  liolding  of  the  trial  on  the  fea.st 
day,  the  purchase  of  linen  and  spices,  the  arming 
of  Peter,  the  coming  of  .Simon  '  from  the  field'  (Mk 
l.'>2'),  the  unseemly  hurry  with  the  trial,  tlie  execu- 
liuii   .-mil   the   final   dispatch  of   the   victims,    the 


eat  this  Passove 


:ty: 


t  of  the  Passovi 


that  followed  the  day  of  the  pre- 


sword  of  Peter  (W^),  the  armed  multitude  with 
Judas  (U-*^),  it  being  unlawful  to  carry  arms  on 
the  feast  day.  It  is  to  be  noticed  that  Mt.,  Mk., 
and  Jn.  represent  the  Crucifixion  as  taking  place 
on  the  Paraskeue,  wliich  is  distinctly  Friday  in 
Jn  19^1,  being  mentioned  in  connexion  with  the 
Sabbath,  and  in  Mk  15''2^  where  it  is  defined  as 
irpoa-d^^aTov.  St.  John  in  ig"  describes  it  as  '  the 
preparation  of  the  passover,'  but  as  the  weekly 
Paraskeue  in  19",  and  19"  referring  to  the  removal 
from  the  cross  and  the  hasty  entombment  says 
'  for  it  was  the  preparation '  and  '  because  of  (Sid 
=  because  it  was)  the  preparation  of  the  Jews.' 

Against  all  these  passages  there  stands  one  ex- 
pression common  to  all  the  Synoptists,  '  the  day  of 
unleavened  bread,'  for  Lk  22'*  may  merely  indicate 
the  Paschal  nature  of  the  Last  Supper.  That  ex- 
pression is,  therefore,  to  be  reckoned  with. 

Chwolson  (Das  letzte  Passamahl  Christi,  p.  3  f.)  maintains 
that  the  Synoptists  start  with  an  error,  for  '  from  the  Mosaic 
writings  down  to  the  Book  of  Jubilees  .  .  .  indeed,  down  to  the 
present  day,  the  Jews  have  always  understood  by  the  phrase 
"  the  first  day  of  the  feast  of  unleavened  bread  "  only  the  15th 
and  not  the  14th,  so  that  it  would  be  a  contradiction  in  tenns 
to  s.\v  with  Mk  1412,  '  on  the  first  dav  of  unleavened  bread  when 
they  sacrificed  the  Passover.'  Ewald  (A  nliqjiities  of  Israel,  p. 
358  fl.)  treats  the  Passover,  which  he  shows  from  Ex  123-6  was 
originally  fixed  for  the  lllth  of  the  month  when  the  P.aschal 
lamb  was  to  be  selected,  as  the  preparatory  expiatory  festival  of 
the  Spring  Feast  of  Unleavened  Bread,  jus't  as  the  Day  of  Atone- 
ment, on  the  10th  day  of  the  7th  month,  preceded  the  great 
autumn  festival  of  Tabernacles.  'Not  till  the  14th  day,  during 
the  la.st  three  hovirs  before  and  the  first  three  hours  after  sun- 
set, was  the  sacrificial  animal  slain  and  eaten.  ...  It  was  always 
appointed  for  the  14th,  and  in  the  earliest  times  at  least  the 
liew  was  strictly  upheld  that  the  Feast  of  Unleavened  Bread 
(lid  not  begin  till  the  following  morning.'    Philo  distinguished 


r«of: 


141  un 


It  would  seem  that  some  technical  error  was 
committed  by  the  Synoptists,  which  may  have 
been  due  to  (1)  St.  Peter's  inexact  knowledge  of 
the  Feast  of  Unleavened  Bread,  and  probable 
identification  of  it  with  the  removal  of  leaven 
before  noon  on  Nisan  14  (Ex  12"') ;  (2)  the  custom 
of  the  Galilipans,  who,  tinlike  the  people  of  Juda>a, 
who  worked  until  the  noon  preceding,  abstained 
from  work  tlie  whole  morning  preceding  the  Pa.-is- 
over,  which  was  reckoned  from  evening  to  evening, 
and  consequently  would  make  their  preparations 
after  sunset  on  Nisan  13  (Students'  Com.  on  Mt 
26") ;  (3)  some  verbal  confusion  between  theSyriac 
words  for  'before'  (kedam,  Mt  S^)  and  'first' 
{kadmdyd,  Mt  26")  o>ving  to  Peter's  broad  Galila^an 
accent,  which  may  have  caused  St.  Mark's  mistake  ; 
(4)  a  comparative  use  of  Gr.  TrpJJTos  (cf.  Jn  1"  irpuT&i 
tiov,  '  before  me ' ;  15'*  f^f  TrpCirov  ifi.C>v,  '  before 
you'),  in  which  case  Mt  26"  would  mean  'on  the 
day  before  the  Feast  of  Unleavened  Bread ' ;  (5)  a 
difi'erence  in  the  mode  of  reckoning  the  days 
adopted  by  St.  John,  who,  according  to  AVestcott 
(Jn  19"),  used  the  AVestein  method  of  counting 
from  midnight  to  noon,  and  by  St.  Mark,  wlio 
adhered  to  the  legal  reckoning  from  evening  to 
evening  (Mk  15''-) ;  (6)  a  natural  confusion  of  the 
preparation  of  the  Passover  (Jn  19")  on  Nisan  13 
with  the  weekly  Paraskeue  on  Nisan  14  (Mk  15"), 
or  of  the  daj-  wlien  leaven  was  removed  from  the 
houses  (Ex  12"  [LXX  dirb  t^s  ijpjpas  t^s  irpiirris]) 
with  the  Festival  of  MazzOth,  wliich  commenced 
after  the  Passover  day.  The  argument  that  the  ex- 
pression '  not  on  the  feast '  (ii.t\  iv  7-3  eoprj,  Mt  26'') 
cannot  refer  to  Passover  has  to  reckon  with  Ex  12", 
where  the  Passover  is  called  '  (•  i  t    (■     -  r.  l.XX). 

Support  for  Nisan  H  as  (A  -in    in 

XT  and  tradition  (Chri.itian  r,        '  1 )  1  Co 

5'  TO  Trdcrxa  Tjfiwv  ^Ti'drj  Xpicrrd^,  i-l'  ::!ili'_-~  < 'liii~l  with 
the  Paschal  lamb  slain  between  'the  two  even- 
ings'; and  1  Co  I52"  identifies  the  Kisen  Christ 
witli  the  First-fruit.s  of  the  2nd  day  of  the  Feast  of 
MazzOth,  iirapxv  tw;'  KCKoifi.ri,u(yuy.     (2)  The  Quarto- 


DATES 


BATES 


decimans,  aniony  whom  m  as  I'olycarp,  held  a  fast 
on  Nisan  14  as  tlie  daj-  of  Crucilixion  (letter  of 
Irenoeus  to  Victor).  (3)  Jewish  tradition  fixes  the 
Crucifixion  on  tlie  'crcbh  Pcsa(i  or  Passover  eve, 
and  the  Greek  Cluirch  always  used  leavened  bread 
in  the  Eucharist.  (4)  Apollinaris  of  Hierapolis 
(c.  A.D.  180)  pointed  out  that  tlie  14th  is  connected 
with  the  Crucifixion.  (5)  Clement  of  Alexandria 
said  that  Christ  did  not  eat  the  Passover,  but 
suffered  on  the  14th.  (6)  Hippolytus  of  Portus 
declared  that  Christ  ate  a  supper  before  the  Pass- 
over, '  for  He  was  the  Paschal  lamb  who  had  been 
promised  and  was  sanctified  on  the  appointed  day.' 
(7)  TertuUian  [adv.  Jud.  8— a  doubtful  work)  sug- 
gests Nisan  14.  (8)  Irenceus  (Hwr.  IV.  x.  1),  dis- 
cussing Moses'  prediction  of  Jesus,  says,  'Tlie  day 
of  whose  Passion  he  did  not  ignore,  but  foretold  it 
in  a  figure,  calling  it  Pascha.'  'This  is  not  very 
decisive,  but  suggests  a  memory  of  1  Co  5'.  This 
view  of  Nisan  14  may  be  said  to  be  the  best  sup- 
ported in  the  first  two  centuries. 

Tradition  in  support  of  Nisan  15. — Origen,  in 
his  comment  on  Mt  26",  follows  the  Synoptic  tra- 
dition :  '  Jesus  celebravit  more  Judaico  pascha 
corporaliter.'  Chrysostom  declares  (Horn,  in  Mt. 
82)  that  the  new  feast  appointed  by  Jesus  super- 
seded the  Passover.  Ambrose,  Proterius  and  others 
follow  on  the  same  side.  Tliis  view  seems  more 
recently  popular  than  the  other.  But  the  contro- 
versy of  Apollinaris  in  irepl  rod  wa.axa.  X670S  shows 
that  there  were  some  in  the  2nd  cent,  who  con- 
nected Nisan  14  with  the  Supper,  and  therefore 
Nisan  15  (according  to  Roman  reckoning)  with  the 
Crucifixion. 

The  cumulative  evidence  of  St.  John,  St.  Paul, 
and  the  early  Fathers,  joined  with  the  incredibility 
of  Jesus  having  been  arrested,  tried,  and  executed 
on  the  great  Sabbath  of  the  Jewisli  Year,  and  the 
statement  of  the  Synoptists  that  that  day  was  the 
Paraskeiie,  seem  to  turn  the  scale  in  favour  of 
Nisan  14  as  the  day  of  the  Crucifixion.  See  also 
Last  Supper.  Nisan  14,  a.d.  29,  is  the  date  to 
be  now  tested  by  otlier  evidence. 

Clement  of  Alexandria  (Siroin.  i.  147)  notes  the 
various  views  of  the  Basilidians.  '  With  regard  to 
the  Passion,  some,  after  precise  calculations,  say  it 
took  place  in  the  16th  year  of  Tiberius  on  Pliame- 
noth  25  (March  21);  others  on  Pharmuthi  25 
(April  20);  others,  again,  on  Pharmuthi  29(April24). 
March  18  and  March  25,  however,  are  tlie  best 
supported.  Epiphanius  (Hear.  i.  1)  had  seen  copies 
oi  the  Acts  of  Pilate  which  gave  March  18  as  the 
date,  but  the  Quartodecimans  kept  Marcli  25  on 
tlie  strength  of  these  Acts;  tliis  is  evidence  of 
some  hesitation  between  these  dates.  Hippolytus 
(Com.  on  Dan.)  gives  March  25.  With  regard  to 
this  date,  also  given  in  the  Paschal  Cycle,  Dr. 
Salmon  says  (Hermathcna,  No.  xviii.  p.  175) :  'We 
can  therefore  regard  the  date  Marcli  25  as  insepar- 
ably connected  with  tlie  sixteen  years'  cycle  of 
Hippolytus.'  As  the  Easter  full  moon  was  on 
March  25  in  A.D.  221,  and,  working  on  the  prin- 
ciple that  after  16  years  full  moons  return  to 
the  same  day,  Hippolytus  trusted  his  cycle  that 
it  must  have  been  on  the  same  day  in  A.D.  29. 
But,  as  Dr.  Salmon  shows,  in  that  year  the  full 
moon  really  fell  on  March  18,  a  week  jn-evious. 
An  interesting  conliriiiation  of  the  date  March  18 
is  given  by  the  Jewish  calendar  of  Paschal  moons, 
from  which  it  would  appear  that  Friday,  which 
is  generally  accepted  as  the  day  of  the  Crucifixion, 
could  not  have  fallen  on  Nisan  14  or  15  in  the 
years  A.D.  28,  31,  32,  so  that  we  are  left  to  choose 
lietween  29,  30,  33,  and  of  these  A.D.  29  answers 
all  tlie  required  conditions  best,  as  the  14th  day 
of  the  moon  would  fall  in  that  year  on  Friday, 
March  18  (so  C.  H.  Turner,  '  Chronology '  in  Has- 
tings' DB). 


Dr.  balmon,  in  the  article  cited,  said  it  was  doubtful  if 
lIippol.\tu3  had  any  historical  authority  for  fixing  on  the  year 
29  over  and  ahove  the  reason  'that  the  day  which  his  cvcle 
exhibited  as  the  Crucifixion  Day  should  be  a"  Friday,'  and  that 
'  the  only  years  he  would  find  fulfilling  this  condition  were,  26, 
29,  32,  and  of  these  29  is  chronologically  the  most  probable.' 
Baron  H.  von  Soden  prefers  A.D.  30,  in  which  Nisan  15  would 
fall  on  Friday  April  7,  .and  opposes  A.D.  29  on  the  ground  that 
Nisan  15  fell  on  April  16  in  that  year.  But  the  previous  luna- 
tion,  March  4-5,  with  14th  on  March  18,  would  be  more  in 
keeping  with  the  ripening  of  the  barley  harvest,  and  would 
have  a  prior  claim. 

The  following  table  of  dates  is  based  on  the  argu- 
ments in  the  preceding  pages,  the  years,  months, 
and  days  especially,  in  each  case,  being  ottered  as 
merely  approximate. 

Table  of  Dates  of  Events  in  the  Gospels. 

Herod's  reign ii.c.  37-4. 

Restoration  of  temple  connnenced  .        .  u.c.  19-18. 

Star  in  the  east B.C.  7-5. 

Courses  of  Abia  in  temple        ....     n.c.  6,  April  IS- 

24,  Oct.  3-9. 
Conception  of  Elisabeth b.c.  6,    Oct.  [or 

April  (25)]. 
Annunciation  (G  months  after)        .        .        .    b.c  5,  March  (25) 

[or  Sept.  (19)1. 
Birth  of  Baptist n.c.  5,  June  (24) 

[orB.c.5,Jan.l. 

Birth  of  the  Christ  at  Bethlehem  during  an     B.C.  5,  Dec.  (2.^) 

enrolment  [orB.c.  5,June). 

Circumcision ii.c.  4,  Jan.  (1). 

Visit  of  Magi B.C.    4,    Jan.    (6 

Presentation  in  temple  40  days  after  Nativity    B.C.    4,    Feb.    {1 
circa). 

Herod  plans  massacre b.c.  4,  Feb. 

Flight  into  Egvpt,  apparently  from  Jerusalem   B.C.  4,  Feb. 
Death  of  Herod B.C.  4,  M.arch  (be- 
fore Passover). 
Archelaus  ethnarch  of  Judaja  .        .        .        .    b.c  4-A.n.  e. 
Herod  Antipas  tetrarch  of  Galilee  .        .        .    B.C.  4-a.d.  37. 
P.uturn  of  Holy  Family  to  Nazareth        .        .    B.C.  3. 
The  child  Jesus  in  temple  (12  years  old)          .    A.D.  7. 

Annas  high  priest a.d.  7-15. 

( 'aiaphas  high  priest a.d.  24-34. 

Pontius  Pilate  procurator  of  Judaea        .        .     A.D.  26-36. 
PreachingoftheBaptist(16thyearofTibcrius),  A.D.  26-27. 

'beyond    Jordan,'   in    the  Persea,    'where 

John    at    first    baptized'  (Jn    10-"i),    'the 

country  about  Jordan  '  (Lit  33) 
Baptism  of  Jesus  in  Bethabara,  John's  second    A.D.  27(Passover). 

sphere  of  work 
Selection  and  training  of  disciples,  and  work    a.d.  27-28  (Pass- 
in  Galilee,  with  Nazareth  for  a  time  as  head-        over). 

quarters(Mt  4")  (early  chapters  of  Mt.  and 

Mk.  and  Jn  I2!i-2I2) 
Purification  of  the  temple  and  work  in  the    A.D.2S, Passoxer, 

city  during  the  Feast  of  Unleavened  Bread       March  30-April 

(Jn  21 3-23)  (i. 

Work  in  Judaea  broken  bv  conflict  between    April 7-14 (circct). 

His  disciples  and  the   Baptist's  (Jn  322-36 

and  41 -J) 
Arrest  of  the  Baptist  by  Herod  (Mk  6",  Mt    April. 

143)  (probably  at  ^non  near  to  Salim,  his 

third  sphere  of  work) 
Departure    of   Jesus    into    Galilee    through    April  14-18 

Samaria  (Jn  4i-*5)  (circa). 

Work  in  Galilee,  with  Capernaum  as  centre    April  18-Ma^'  14. 

(Jn  4«,  Jlk  111,  Mt  415- 13,  where  His  de- 
parture from  Nazareth  is  noted ;  see  also 

Lk  416) 
Jesus  at  Feast  of    Pentecost  in  Jerusalem    May  20  (circa). 

(Jn5) 
Miracles  in  Galilee  (Nain),  and  consequent 

fame  (Lk  7"-") 
Injunctions  to  the  Twelve,  and  their  mission 

(Mt  10,  Mk  6,  Lk  9) 
Deputation  from  the  Baptist  (Mt  112,  Lk  71'). 
Jesus  at  Feast  of  Tabernacles  (Jn  7)        .        .     October. 
Execution  of  the  Baptist  (.Mt  14,  Lk  9,  Mk  6) 
Herod  hears  the  fame  of  Jesus  (iMt  141) 
Return  of  the  Twelve  with  this  and  other  news 

(Mk  G30) 
Jesus,  in  consequence,  departs  finally  from 

Galilee  (.Mk  031,  Mt  14",  Lk  91») 
Work  in  Tvre  and  Sidon,  Decapolis,  and  vil- 
lages of  Cajsarea  Philippi  (Mk  72'-  3i  $27, 

Mt  1013) 
The  confession  of  St.  Peter  (Mt  1616,  Mk  S2», 

Lk  920,  Jn  eiia- '«') 
The  Transfiguration,  'six  davs  after'  (Mt  171, 

Mk  92),  'about  an  eight  da'vs  after'(Lk  929) 
Prediction  of  death  (Mt  17™) 
The  great  journe> ,  whic-li  ma>-  be  described 

as  a  tour,  whose  final  objective  was  Jeru- 

well-nigh  come  that  he  should  be  received 


416 


DATES 


up'(Lk951);  given  at  great  lenfth  (Lk  9^'- 

19--B) 
neiected  bv  a  viUa^e  of  Samaria  (Lk  95=) 
Mission  of  "the  Seventy  before  His  face  (Lk 

iniiT)  (in  Samaria,  where  He  was  in  Roman 

territory,  safe  from  Herod,  Samaria  having 

been  added  to  the  Province  of  Syria  after 

the  banishment  of   Archelaus,   Jos.   Aitt. 

xvii,  xiii.  6] 
Sentence    on    Galilee    and    Capernaum  (Lk 

luia-i'i,  Mt  1120=1) 
Journevs  towards  Jerusalem,  teaching  in  the 

towns  and  villa^'es  (Lk  13-=),  moving  south- 
wards between  the  borders  of  Samaria  and 

Galilee  (17"),  the  Jordan  on  His  left  hand 
At  the  Feast  of  Dedication  in  Jerusalem        .    A.n.  2S,  Dec.  lu 

(circa). 
Escapes  from  citv  into  the  Persa,  3-e>«e»  rou 

■Ufii,c-j  (Jn  lOiO,  Mt  191,  Mk  101) 
Keturns  to  Judxa  for  the  raising  of  Lazarus 

at  Bethany  (Jn  W) 
Withdraws  to  Ephrain)(Jn  11")  in  wilderness 

Final  journey  towards  city 

Prediction  of  His  death  (Mk  1032,  Lk  1831) 

At  Jericho :  Zacchaus  and  blind  Bartimjeus 

(Lk  19111,  MkltHS  52) 
Approaches  citv,  at  Bethany  (Mt  211,  Mk  111,     a.i>.  20,  Nisan  9 

Lk  1929,  Jn  121)sixdays before  the  Passover        (.March  12). 

The  clironology  of  the  last  six  days  Is  still 
further  complicated  by  the  difference  between  the 
Second  and  Fourth  Gospels  regarding  the  Anoint- 
in;;  at  Bethany.  Mk  14i'^  gives  the  account  of  the 
Anointing  apparently  in  connexion  with  the  date 
'after  two  days  was  the  feast  of  the  Passover  and 
the  unleavened  bread,'  while  Jn  12'-^  gives  the 
account  of  the  Supper  seemingly  under  the  note  of 
time,  'Then  Jesus  six  days  before  the  Passover 
came  to  Bethany.'  Two  ways  of  getting  out  of  the 
difficulty  are  (1)  by  referring  the  note  of  time  in 
Mk.  to  the  events  of  vv."-  =•  i"-  "  as  giving  the  con- 
nexion of  the  conspiracy  of  the  chief  priests  against 
Jesus,  and  the  oHer  of  Judas,  and  regarding  the 
scene  of  the  Anointing  as  an  intrusion  of  strange 
matter  similar  to  Jlk  6"-2^  725-30.  (.3)  \,y  restrict- 
ing the  application  of  the  note  of  time  Jn  12'  to 
the  arrival  at  Bethany.  The  notice  of  the  day  of 
the  entombment  (riji'  -fi/iepav  toO  ivTa<f>ia<rtioO,  v.") 
would  come  more  appropriately  on  the  date  given 
in  Mk  141,  the  reason  of  the  mention  of  the  feast 
in  connexion  with  the  date  of  Jn  12'  'six  days 
before,'  etc.,  being,  perhaps,  the  fact  that  Jesus 
and  His  disciples  made  the  house  of  Lazarus  and 
liis  sisters  the  headquarters  of  His  la-st  mission  to 
the  city.  Against  this  it  may  be  urged  that  it  is 
equally  probable  that  this  feast,  which  was  attended 
T)y  many  out  of  curiosity  to  see  not  only  Jesus  but 
l.azarus  whom  He  had  raised  (v.^*),  occasioned  on 
the  one  hand  the  splendid  reception  given  to  Him 
by  the  multitude,  and  on  the  other  the  malignant 
opposition  of  the  chief  priests,  who  made  plans  to 
procure  the  death  of  Lazarus  also  (v.'").  And  the 
anointing  of  Jesus'  feet  in  so  lavish  a  stj'le  would 
be  in  kccpin;,'  with  His  entry  as  the  Messiah,  the 
Anoiiiti'l,  intij  the  city,  which  follows  in  the 
Fourih  Cu,]..!.  St.  Mark's  order  of  events,  how- 
ever, i<  ipiitr  ilillcrent.  Our  Lord  proceeds  straight 
from  Jericho  to  Jerusalem  by  way  of  Bethphage 
and  Bethany  (Mk  11'),  and  when  He  entered  tlie 
temple  and  looked  round  on  all  things,  the  hour 
being  late  {6^iat  fiin  ova-qs  t^s  wpas,  v.").  He  with- 
drew to  Bethany  with  the  Twelve.  The  cleansing 
of  the  temple,  which  immediately  follows  the 
entry  in  Mt  21  and  Lk  19,  is  thus  reserved  for  the 
next  day,  and  the  bamjuet  for  the  last  evening 
siient  in  Bethany.  May  it  not  be  possible  that 
there  were  two  banquets,  and  two  similar  acts  of 
homage  ]iaid  by  women  to  Jesus,  one  at  the  begin- 
ning of  His  last  mission,  when  His  feet  were 
anointed,  and  the  other  at  the  close  of  His  mi.ssion, 
when  His  head  was  anointed,  the  former  being 
recorded  by  St.  John  (1'22-''),  who  marks  the  com- 
mencement of  the  year's  work  by  the  imriticatidn 
of  the  temple,  the   latter  by  the  Synoptists,  St. 


Matthew  and  St.  .Mark,  who  signalize  its  closing 
scenes  with  a  similar  act  ? 

In  the  week  itself  there  are  three  difficult  notes 
of  time.  (1)  '  Then  Jesus  six  days  before  the  Pass- 
over came  to  Bethany'  (Jn  12'  tt/jo  fj  jiiiipav  toO 
Trdffxo.  cf-  Am  1'  LXX  xp6  ivo  iruv  tov  aei.aii.ov 
[STI'?  'i-h  c'03r']>  'two  years  before  the  earthquake'). 
Six  days  before  Friday,  Nisan  15,  that  is,  according 
to  Jewish  reckoning,  six  evenings  before  the  even- 
ing that  followed  the  sunset  of  Nisan  14,  would 
give  the  evening  that  directly  followed  the  sunset 
of  the  Sabbath  of  Nisan  9,  in  which  case  the  Supper 
would  take  place  in  the  evening  that  was  the  close  of 
the  Sabbath.  Or  if,  as  Westcott  held,  the  Passion 
fell  on  Thursday,  the  arrival  at  Bethany  took  place 
on  a  Friday,  in  which  case  the  Sabbath  would  be 
kept  as  a  day  of  rest,  and  would  be  followed  by 
a  feast  on  the  next  evening.  (2)  '  After  two  days 
is  the  Passover'  (Mt  26'),  or  'After  two  days  was 
the  Passover  and  the  unleavened  bread'  (Mk  14'). 
This  date,  including  the  day  on  Avhich  the  words 
were  spoken,  but  excluding  that  of  the  Passover, 
points  to  Wednesday,  Nisan  13,  the  Crucifixion  fall- 
ing on  Friday,  Nisan  15.  Bengel  allows  an  interval 
of  one  day  only,  '  biduum  a  feria  quarta  ad  quintam 
qu^  Paschatos  et  azymorum  dies  erat ' ;  cf.  ^Ik  8", 
where  ^tri  t/jcis  TjiJ-cpas  =  rj  TpiTTj  rififpa.  (3)  '  On 
the  first  day  of  the  unleavened  bread  the  disciples 
of  Jesus  came  to  him,  saying,  Where  wilt  thou  that 
we  prepare  for  thee  to  eat  the  Passover  ? '  (Mt  26"). 
Strictly  speaking,  that  day  would  be  Nisan  16,  this 
feast  commencing  on  the  evening  after  the  close  of 
Nisan  15,  the  Passover,  and  lasting  seven  days. 
But  this  note  of  time  refers  probably  to  the  legal  be- 
ginning of  the  14th  day,  the  evening  following  the 
sunset  of  Nisan  13,  or  may  be  due  to  a  confusion  with 
the  day  Nisan  14  on  which  leaven  was  removed. 

With  regard  to  the  method  our  Lord  followed  in 
His  mission,  see  Luke  213'  i  .^nj  during  the  days  he 
was  teaching  in  the  temple  ;  but  during  the  nights 
going  forth  to  the  mount  that  is  called  the  Mount 
of  Olives,  he  used  to  abide  (iji'XiftT-o)  there  :  and  all 
the  people  came  to  him  at  early  dawn  (wpSpife)  in 
the  temple  to  hear  him '  ;  cf.  Lk  22»  '  And  he 
came  out  and  Avent  Kara  to  Iffos  to  the  Jloimt  of 
Olives ;  and  his  disciples  followed.  And  when  he 
was  at  the  place'  {i-rrl  toO  t6tou,  evidently  some 
familiar  locality  [see  Jn  18'"  'Jesus  went  forth 
with  his  disciples  beyond  the  brook  l^idron,  where 
was  a  garden,  into  the  which  he  entered,  and  his 
disciples.  And  Judas  also,  which  betrayed  him, 
knewT6>'T(S7roi'']).  It  would  seem  then  that  the  night 
was  generally  spent  in  prayer  on  the  mountain 
side  during  this  mission.  But  the  evening  after 
the  Triumphal  Entry  was  spent  in  Bethany  (Mk 
jjii.  12).  yet  evidently  the  greater  part  of  night 
and  morn  was  spent  in  prayer  in  the  open  air 
rjvMadri  (K(i  (Mt  21").  This  fact  would  explain  His 
hunger  on  the  morrow  from  missing  the  morning 
meal.  For  His  practice  of  going  out  to  pray  'a 
great  Avhile  before  day  '  see  Mk  l^^. 

The  following  is  a  provisional  arrangement  of 
the  days  and  occurrences  of  the  Last  Mission  : 


Sabbath,  Nisan  9,     f  Arrival  in  Bethany  (Jn  121). 
tith  Day  before      ■{  Supper  in  the  evening  (122-»). 
Passover.  I  The  Anointing  of  His  feet. 

First  Day  of  Week    /"Triumphal   entry    into   Jerusalem    (Mk 
I     ll'ii,  Mt  aii-i;,  Lk  19»-",  Jnl2H-i9). 


(Palm  Sunday, 

«!,pi««i  tSy  ^«.«>).S  Works  of 
Nisan  10,  Sth  Day      Eetu 
before  Passover      l 


Second  Day  of  Week, 
Monday,  Nisan  11 : 
day  of  selection  of  J 
Paschal  lamb  (Ex ) 
123),  4th  Day  before 


in  Temple  (Mt  21  ' 
evening  to  Bethany  (Mk 
nil,  Mt  2117). 
Returns  on  the  morrow  (rr,  tTaCpie*)  from 
Bethany  (Mk  1112);  hungry  after  mid- 
night vigil  or  early  morning  prayer 
(l*).  Blasting  of  the  Fig-tree  ;  sign  of 
an  unfruitful  nature  (1112-").  Purifica- 
tion of  the  Temple,  more  drastic  an^i 
thorough  in  Mk  llis-is  than  in  Lk  1915  « 
or  Mt  2112- 13. 


Third  Day  of  Week, 

Tuesday,  Nisan  li, 

3rd  Day  before 

Passover. 


DATES 

Returns  earh'  (t^™)  past  the  withered  fif- 
tree  (Mli  il-"j.  Combination  of  foes, 
chief  priests,  Sadducees,  Pharisees, 
Scribes,  Herodians. 

Day  of  Questions  and  Answers  touching 
the  authority  of  Jesus,  the  baptism  of 
John,  the  tribute  money,  the  brother's 
wife,  the  first  commandment  of  all. 
'  What  think  ye  of  Christ?  Whose  son 
ishe?'(Mt21.  22).  '  From  that  day  forth 
no  man  dared  ask  him  any  more  ques- 
tions' (22J0).   Woes  on  Pharisees  (23'  ■*!). 

Jfsus  in  Treasury,  the  widow's  mite  (Mk 
1241-44).  The  visit  of  Greeks,  and 
parable  of  Seed-corn  (Jn  12'.!»W).    Final 


vj  fretpxfff.iuy,  Ton 

^i,rx,  (Jn  19"), 

Thursday,  Nisan  14, 


Fifth  Day  of  "Week 

(Mt26l'),  '  the  first  , 
day  of  unleavened  { 
bread  *  evidently 
being  identified 
with 'the  first  day' 
on  which  leaven 
was  removed  (Ex 
1215),  the  bread  of 
Passover  being  un- 
leavened (Dt  163). 


of  the  Temple,  and  final  scenes 
of  the  coming  of  the  Son  of  Man  (24.  25). 

\  Counsel  of  Caiaphas  (Mt  263-5). 

/* '  A  f  ter  two  days  is  the  Feast  of  Unleavened 
Bread'  (Mt  26-).  It  is  supposed  that 
our  Lord  remained   all   this   day    in 

\      Rethany,    not   returning  to   the   city 

I  openly  after  Jn  12^6.  The  Anointing  of 
His  head  at  the  Supper  in  the  evening. 

I  The  Bargain  of  Judas. 

le  morning  was  occupied  by  disciples 
with  preparations  for  the  Supper  (Mt 
2617-19),  by  Jesus  in  prayer. 
(A)  The  events  of  the  evening  may  be 
arranged  according  to  the  four  Roman 
(as  distinguished  from  the  three  Jewish) 
watches,  «^^!  (6  p.m.-9  p.m.) ;  iMirmin- 

Tm  (9  p.m.-12)  ;  ei>.l-iTepcfa,ya  (12-3 
a.m.);  cj™  (3  a.m.-6  a.m.),  used  in  the 
Gospels  (Mk  13.15,  Mt  14=5,  Mk  6«). 

The  Supperwith  the  Twelve, 
i-i.;«.!  Si  yltoliivKS  (Mt  262", 

Mkun).  The  washing  of 
feet  after  Supper  (SiiVwu  5 ; 
yivowivov)  or  during  it,  see 
v.l.  y„o^»ov  (Jn  132).  De- 
parture of  Judas.  Institu- 
tion of  Lord's  Supper. 
Upper  Room  Discourses 
(13M.1431).  Departure 
from  Upper  Room  (14^1). 

Parable  of  Vine  (Jn  16). 
Promise  of  the  Holy  Spirit 
(16).  Prayer  for  disciples 
(17).  Gethsemane(18i,Mt 
263V-«i,  Mk  1433-38,  Lie 
2-24i-»6),  Agony,  *  one  hour ' 
(.Mk  143'). 

Arrival  of  Judas,  Arrest  of 
Jesus  (Jn  18'212).  Preli- 
minary trial  before  Annas 
(1813).  Peter's  denial;  ^k- 
iXToif  \.^i,i%in  (1827).  Jesus 
sent  to  Caiaphas  (182-»). 
Trial  before  Sanhedrin  i,- 
\yf,iTo  i,ij,ifu.  (Lk  220«), 
^fma.;  li  yi.o^i.vi!  (Mt  271 
loosely),  Wi  to  ^put  to- 
wards the  morning  watch 
(Mk  151  more  precisely). 

Led  to  Pilate  t/>™  (Jn  1829), 
from  Pilate  to  Herod  (Lk 
237),  back  to  Pilate  (2311). 
■Behol'      "  '■  '■ 


or  i'^i. 
0  p.m.- 


(9p.m.-12). 


12-3  a.m 
Cock-crov 


19'>).  '  And  it  was  the  pre- 
paration of  the  Passover, 
and  about  the  sixth  hour' 
(191J).      Delivered  to   be 
crucified  (1916). 
(B)  The  third,  sixth,  and  ninth  hours  of 
the  morning,  which  were  wont  to  be 
proclaimed  by  an  officer  of  the  Praetor 
(Smith's  Bid.  Ant.  s.v.  'dies'),  marked 
similar  divisions  of  the  day  which  for 
the  Jews  ended  in  the  evening. 
Preparation  for  Crucifixion. 
6  a.m.-9  a.m.— 'And    it  was  the  third 
hour  (i.e.  3rd  after  the  last  watch  of  the 
night  [S-6  a.m.],  or  9  a.m.);  and  they 
crucified  him'  (Mk  1525). 

[There  is  no  need  to  suggest  a  corrup- 
tion of  f  f  or  r  or  vice  verm  to  explain  the 
difference  of  Mk  1525  and  Jn  19",  as  the 
former  hour  marks  the  crucifixion  and 
the  latter  the  hour  of  sentence,  between 
which  some  inter\'al  must  have  elapsed.] 
9  a.m.-12.— Jesus  on  the  Cross. 
12-3  p.m.—'  And  when  the  sixth  hour  (12) 


-f 


Between  the  evenings  [D)3-ij;n  j'3  Ex  IS'],  as  the  Paschal 
lambs  were  being  sacrificed  ill  the  Temple,  Jesus  gave  up  the 
ghost.  The  Removal  from  the  Cross  ensues,  Pilate  marvelling 
If  He  were  already  dead  (Mk  16"),  «?»  c'-J-zat  yi,ofj.in!  (after  3 
p.m.),  the  women  following  to  the  sepulchre  and  returning 
to  prepare  spices  and  ointment  (Lk  2355-  5C). 

'The  Passover,  also  the  Weeklj-  Prepara- 
tion, VI  TK.paffy.ivr,  or  To  Tpoa-ccp^KTOi>  (Jlk 
1542). 

First  Day  of  Unleavened  Bread,  coincided 
with  weekly  Sabbath.  'The  day  of  that 
(Ixsivav)  Sabbath  was  an  high  day '  (Jn 
1931),  or '  that  (;>!e/.fl)day  of  the  week  w  as 
a  high  day.'  'And  (the  women)  rested 
the  Sabbath  day  according  to  the  com- 
mandment'(Lk  235ii).  This  was  a  day 
of  holy  convocation  in  which  no  servile 
work  should  be  done.  Visit  of  Sanhe- 
drin to  Pilate,  T?  II  Waipm  iT.j  >>t;  ^jTi 
TV  TK.p«.ffy.vA„  (Mt  27fi'-;).  In  the  Grave. 
•  After  the  Sabbath  Q>,xyitaij.:<m  to5  ffaf.- 
^a'Tot/),  Mary  Magdalene,  Mary  the 
mother  of  James,  and  Salome,  brought 
spices  for  the  anointing  (Mk  16'). 


vhole 


ntil  the  ninth  hour  (3  p.m.) 
and  at  the  ninth  hour  Jesus  cried 
a  loud  voice,  sa\'ing.  Kloi,  Eloi, 
sahachthani?'(Mk  1533.34). 


Nimn  17,  Sunday. 
The  First  Day  of 
Week  and  Second 
ofFeastof3/a<:jti(/i, 
on  which  sheaf  of 


dark,  rxo-.a.;  olf<.-  (Jn  201),  !„ 
early  dawn,  opQpov  /aatfiaf  (Lk  24i,  cf.  Mt 
281),  very  early  after  sunrise  (Mk  162), 
when  they  came  to  the  sepulchre,  bring- 


sented    as 


3:^,iT<:.f«;33«Ta>. 
(Jn201,Lk24l),Tfl; 
/iii,-  5-«|3/3«T*.  (Mk 
162),  £,',-  ^,„,  ,„/3. 
(3«T<-»  (lit  2Sl). 


Sunday  Week, 


'y  had  prepared  (Lk 

24I).   Jesiis  rose  early,  atatf-Ta,-  -rpu,  (Mk 

109).    The  first-fruits  of  them  that  slept, 

iT«^X-i    T<:»    «i««,a,,<.c£™.   (1  Co    15'-;o). 

Vision  of  angels  to  the  women  (Mk  165-7). 

Visit  of  Peter  and  John  to  the  Sepulchre 

(Jn   203-10).      Appearance  of  Jesus  to 

Mary  Magdalene  (2011-13);  appearance 

to  St.  Peter  (Lk  2434). 

4-6  p.m. — Appearance  to  two  disciples, 

who   would    not  have   left  Jerusalem 

until  after  evening  prayer  (cf.  Ac  3'), 

on  way  to  Emmaus  (Lk  241311.). 

S  p.m.  (circa). — Appearance  of  Jesus  to 

the  Eleven  and  those  with  them  (Lk 

\     2436).    In  the  account  of  interview  with 

^    disciples  (Jn  2019n'-),  Thomas  absent. 

(Jesus  appeared  to  the  disciples,  Thomas 

Msan'24.  "<    being  present  (Jn  2021'n-). 

Further  appearances   recorded   by  Evangelists  :— To   seven 

Apostles  on  the  shore  of  the  Sea  of  Tiberias  (Jn  21).    To  tlie 

Eleven  Apostles  on  a  mountain  in  Galilee  (Mt  2816  20).    To  the 

Apostles  in  Jerusalem  (St.  Luke  in  Ac  14).     Ascension  from 

Bethany  forty  days  after  Passion  and  ten  days  before  Penl 

(Lk  2450,  Ac  If 


■12). 


LiTP.RATURE. — Josephus,  Ant.  and  BJ ;  Irenseus,  adv.  Ilcer. ; 
Clement  of  Alexandria,  Strom.  ;  Hippolytus,  Com.  on  San.,  and 
Paschal  Cycle ;  Origen,  Com.  on  SI.  John ;  Ideler,  Handb.  der 
Ckranol. ;  Wieseler,  Chronol.  Sijnops.  der  Evang. ;  Salmon  in 
Ucnnathena,  No.  18 ;  Farrar,  Life  0/  Christ ;  Westcott,  '  Gospel 
of  St.  John'  (Speakers  Com.),  and  Introduction  to  the  Gospels; 
Sanday,  Authorship  and  Historical  Character  of  the  Fourth 
Gospel,  and  art.  'Jesus  Christ'  in  Hastings'  SB;  Hitchcock, 
Studies  in  Our  Lord's  Last  Mission ;  Westcott  and  Hort,  Greek 
Testament;  artt.  'Chronology,'  'Fasts  and  Feasts,'  'Passover,' 
'  Pentecost'  in  Hastings'  SB. 

F.  R.  Montgomery  Hitchcock. 

DADGHTER  (BiryirTip). — The  word  '  daughter '  is 
used  in  various  senses  in  the  Gospels:  (1)  in  the 
literal  sen.se,  Mt  9'»  lO^^,  Mk  5^5  6-  7=»,  Lk  S-"- ; 
(2)  as  a  term  of  kind  address,  Mt  9",  Mk  5=^,  Lk 
S-i* ;  (3)  collectively  for  the  inhabitants  of  a  city, 
Mt  2P,  Jn  12'5  (cf.  Zee  9^) ;  (4)  as  a  term  of  address 
to  the  female  inhabitants  of  a  city,  Lk  23-'';  (5)  in 
the  Hebrew  sense  of  descendant,  Lk  P  13'®. 

The  diminutive  evydrpiov  is  found  twice  in  the 
Gospel  of  Mark  (5^  7-=).  Like  all  diminutives,  it 
is  a  terra  of  endearment. 

Henry  E.  Doskek. 

DAUGHTER-IN-LAW  (xi'-A^^^l.-The  Greek  word 
is  presumably  derived  from  the  lost  root  pv(iu, 
Lat.  nubo,  '  to  cover,'  inasmuch  as  the  bride  was 
brought  veiled  to  her  bridegroom.  Although  the 
word  applies  to  married  women  in  general,  its 
associated  idea  is  that  of  youth.  Hence  its  an- 
tithesis witli  irevdepd,  the  mother-in-law  (Mt  lO^-, 
Lk  1253).  The  son  usually  brought  his  bride  to  his 
father's  house,  where  she  was  subject  to  the 
father's  wife,  as  was  the  son  to  the  father  and  the 
daughter  to  the  mother  (Mt  Iff",  Lk  12"). 

Henry  E.  Dosker. 

DAYID.— 

For  the  student  of  the  Gospels  the  most  important  OT  p.issage 
ing  Da^  id  is  2  S  7.    Da\  id  expressed  to  Nathan  a  strong 


desire  to  build  a  tenii.K^  t"  r  .T,ii  ,  .ih  in  lii^  new  capital,  a  wish 
indicative  of  worldly  ^\i- i  "       :     '  \  on  t!ie  part  of  the 

king.    Jehovah  denies   l>       i      i  i   ;l  promises  to  build 

for  him  an  everlastinLT  1:  iiliout  end.    David's 

throne  is  to  staml  iov  (  >■  i  I  -  ,i  :>!  I  !'i  :tre  founded  on  this 
no!  1  i:ii:  author  ot  I's  Stt  in  a  far  later  time, 

w),  hid  been  overturned  by  the  heathen, 

rf  ■  -  :incient  promise,  and  pleads  earnestly 

f.  1  ,'  of    His  wrath.    The  earlv  prophets. 

Aim   -  ,  I~:iiah  (9' 165  37J5),  unite  with  the  author 

of  Kiiiu'sU  K  -J^'  til-  (-to.)  in  the  expectation  that  the  promise 
made  to  David  in  2  S  7  will  not  fail.  The  prophetic  hopes  for 
the  future  of  Israel  spring  from  Nathan's  message  as  branches 
from  the  trunk  that  gives  them  life.  Jeremiah  (235f-  SS'Sff) 
carries  forward  the  work  of  his  predecessors  of  the  8th  cent. 
B.C.,  asserting  the  perpetuity  of  David's  dynasty  in  most  em- 
phatic terms.  Ezekiel  (Si'^f-  372-if-)  cheers  tlie  discouraged 
exiles  with  the  picture  of  a  glorious  restoration  of  the  throne  of 
David.  The  groat  ruler  of  the  future  will  be  a  second  David. 
In  the  period  after  the  return  from  Babylon,  the  author  of  the 
last  section  of  Zechariah  (12M31)  describes  the  glories  of  the 
coming  time  in  connexion  with  the  Davidic  dynasty  :  'The  house 
of  David  shall  be  as  God,  as  the  angel  of  Jehovah  before  them.* 
The  Jlessianic  hope  in  the  inter-Biblical  period,  like  that  of  the 
OT,  attached  itself  to  David.  The  author  of  Ecclesiasticus  (47") 
reminds  his  readers  that  the  Lord  exalted  David's  horn  for  ever, 
entering  into  a  covenant  and  promising  him  a  throne  of  glory  in 
Israel.  About  a  centviry  later  the  author  of  1  Mac.  (2^7)  .says, 
'  David  for  being  merciful  inherited  the  throne  of  a  kingdom  for 
ever  and  ever.*  Most  important  for  the  student  of  the  Gospel 
history  is  Ps  17  of  the  Psalms  of  Solomon,  a  collection  of 
patriotic  hymns  belonging  to  the  period  inmiediately  following 
Pompey's  capture  of  Jerusalem  (G3-4S  B.C.).  Ps  17  is  a  notable 
Messianic  prophecy,  prayer  and  prediction  being  freely  inter- 
mingled after  the  fashion  of  the  OT  prophets  and  poets.  The 
Messianic  King  is  to  be  David's  son  (17-*-  -^).  Jehovah  Himself  is 
Israel's  King  for  ever  and  ever  (171- «) ;  but  the  Son  of  David  is 
His  chosen  to  overthrow  the  heathen,  and  institute  a  righteous 
reign  in  Israel  (1720-  ■<2r). 

The  four  Evangelists  unite  in  tlie  view  that  the 
Messiah  was  to  come  from  the  seed  of  Da\-id  (Mt 
1>,  ]Mk  10",  Lk  2^,  Jn  7^^).  '  The  Son  of  David ' 
was  sjTionymous  in  the  time  of  our  Lord's  earthly 
ministrj'  with  'Messiah'  or  'Christ.'  Both  the 
scrihes  and  the  common  people  held  this  view. 
When  the  children  cried  in  the  temple,  '  Hosanna 
to  the  Son  of  David '  (Mt  2P=),  both  the  rulers  and 
the  multitude  looked  upon  the  words  as  a  distinct 
recognition  of  the  Messiahship  of  Jesus.  The 
Epistles  (Ro  P,  2  Ti  2*)  and  the  Revelation  (5=  22i=) 
concur  in  calling  attention  to  the  Davidic  origin  of 
Jesus.  The  interest  of  NT  writers  in  David  is 
confined  almost  exclusively  to  his  relation  to  our 
Lord  Jesus  as  His  ancestor  and  type. 

Jesus  refers  to  one  incident  in  the  life  of  David 
in  reply  to  the  accusation  of  His  enemies  as  to  His 
oliservance  of  the  Sabbath  (Mk  2=,  cf.  1  S  211-"). 
This  incident  is  said  to  have  taken  place  'when 
Abiathar  was  high  priest.'  [On  the  difficulties 
created  by  this  statement  see  art.  Abiathar.] 

During  the  week  preceding  our  Lord's  crucifixion, 
perhaps  on  Tuesda3%  He  asked  the  Pharisees  a 
question  which  put  them  to  silence  and  confusion. 
Having  drawn  from  them  a  statement  of  their 
belief  that  the  Christ  would  be  the  son  of  Darid, 
He  at  once  quoted  David's  words  in  Ps  1 10'  to  show 
that  the  Messiah  would  also  be  David's  Lord 
(Mt  22^'  11).  Jesus  wished  to  show  His  foes  and  the 
multitude  that  the  ortliodox  view  of  the  time 
overlooked  the  exalted  dignity  of  the  Messiah. 
He  was  to  be  far  greater  than'Daviil,  for  He  was 
his  Lord.  .See,  further,  Broadus  on  Mt.  ad  luc, 
and,  for  the  meaning  of  'David'  and  'Moses'  in 
our  Lord's  citations  from  the  OT,  art.  Moses. 

LrrEBATURB.— Gore,  BL  196 IT.;  Gould,  '  St  Mark,'  and  Hum- 
mer, '  St.  Luke,'  in  Internal.  Crit.  Com.  in  he. ;  Expos.  TH7nex, 
m.  [1892J  292  ff.,  viii.  (1897)  365  ff.;  Sxpositur,  v.  iii.  [1896]  445  ff. 

John  R.  Sampey. 
DAT.  — 1.  Literal.  — The  length  of  the  'day' 
among  the  ancients  was  reckoned  in  varioiLS  ways  : 
thus,  from  morning  to  morning  (Babylonians), 
from  sunset  to  sunset  (Athenians),  from  noon  to 
noon  (L'mbrians),  from  midnight  to  midnight 
(Egyptians),  ami  from  dawn  to  dark  by  the  coni- 
nioii  people,  ordinarily  (see  Plin.  HN  ii.  79).  The 
early  Israelites  seem  to  liave  regarded  the  morning 


DAY 

as  the  beginning  of  the  day  (cf.  On  P-  ™-),  but 
they  likewise  (due  to  the  influence  of  the  new 
moon)  reckoned  it  from  'even  unto  even'  (Lv 
23'-).  In  Lk  22"  also  the  new  day  beg.an  after 
sunset  (cf.  4-"').  In  the  NT  viftpa  was  employed  to 
cxiiress:  (1)  the  period  of  light  in  opposition  to 
iiii/ht  (Lk  6'^  'and  when  it  was  day,' — a  frequent 
l.lira-.'  in  St.  Luke's  writings,  cf.  4-"  2'2««,  Ac  12>« 
1.-  _:;-  _■:  ■  ',  also  ,Jn  9\  2  Co  11=);  (2)  the 
;!M  luiliiii;  theperiodsbothof  lightand 
,1  :  .  !^  ^^  ,Mi  Js'  tTn^wo-zcow.,,  cf.  Lk  22*');  (3)  OH 
;,.,':ji„,f.:  j.oiui/  of  time  (Lk  V-^  iv  to?5  V^pa.j 
TaiTois,  '  in  those  days ' ;  St.  Luke  is  fond  of  this 
expression,  it  is  not  found  in  Jn. ,  and  occurs  but 
four  times  in  Mt.  and  the  same  number  of  times 
in  Mk.  ;  cf.  Lk  2^  4=,  Ac  2i8  3=^  7"  etc.,  also  Mt  2' 
3',  Mk  P  8'  13"-  "-*  in  true  Hebraistic  style). 

Except  the  Sabbath,  the  days  of  the  week  were 
t) umbered  by  the  Israelites,  not  named.  Nor  had 
the  Hebrews  any  precise  subdivision  of  the  day, 
for  they  had  no  word  for  '  hovir ' ;  even  the  Aramaic 
.i^y^,  which  occurs  in  Dn  4'«  5^,  has  no  exact  connota- 
tion. Like  the  Greeks,  they  seem  to  have  learned 
from  the  Babylonians  how  to  divide  the  day  into 
12  hoius, — a  di^-ision  first  met  with  in  the  NT  : 
'Are  there  not  twelve  hours  in  the  day?'  (Jn  IP, 
cf .  Ac  2>%  Mt  20^-6  27'"-  *^  etc. ).  The  length  of  the 
hour,  however,  was  for  a  long  time  a  variable 
quantity,  depending,  as  it  did,  upon  the  season  of 
the  year,  for  it  was  always  reckoned  as  the  twelfth 
part  of  the  light  period.  It  therefore  ranged  from 
forty-nine  to  seventy-one  minutes,  according  to 
the  calendar.  The  more  common  divisions  of 
the  d,ay  among  the  Hebrews  were  morning,  noon- 
day, and  evening  (Ps  55") ;  but  they  freqtientlv 
spoke  of  'sunrise'  and  'dawn'  (Mk  16-,  Jn  20', 
Rev  221"),  'the  heat  of  the  day'  (Mt  20'=),  'noon' 
(Gn  43'«,  Dt  2S=«),  'the  cool  of  the  day'  (Gn  3«), 
and  'between  the  two  evenings,'  i.e.  towards  even- 
ing (Ex  12°  16'=,  cf.  Ac  3'  lO^-*").  The  time  of 
incense,  and  of  cock-crowing  (wh.  see)  was  in  the 
morning  (Mk  14»'-'^,  Lk  l'") ;  the  time  of  the 
'  meal-offering '  was  in  the  middle  of  the  afternoon 
(1  K  IS^***);  while  'the  time  that  women  go  out 
to  draw  Avater'  was  towards  evening  (Gn  24"). 

2.  Figurative. — Figurative  and  metaphorical  uses 
of  the  word  '  day '  are  also  frequent  in  the  NT  : 


day 


e.g.  the  day  of  Christ's  appearance,  i.e.  of  H 
apocalypse,  or  self-revelation  (Lk  17**  '  in  the  da 
that  the  Son  of  Man  is  revealed,'  dTroKoXiVreTat, 
technical  expression  :  cf.  Lk  \r-\  Jn  8*=  14="  16-='-=", 
Ro  13'=,  1  Co  r-  8,  2  Til  V.  1  P  V-  '3  4") ;  '  the  day 
of  his  Paronsi'- '  (Mt  7--  •-!4=«,  Mk  135=  14:2^  LJ^  2I", 
2  Th  1'",  2  Ti  l'».  He  10^) ;  the  days  of  His  death 
and  departure  (Lk  5^  iXevnovrai  Si  ijiiipai,  '  But 
the  days  will  come,'  i.e.  days  very  different  from 
the  joyous  days  of  wedding  festivity) ;  the  L,a.st,  or 
Judgment  day  (Jn  6^  IP''  12«,  Mt  11=,  1  Jn  4", 
1  Th  5=,  2  Ti  3',  Ja  5',  and  by  contrast  1  Co  4^  ijirb 
ai/epuirlyi)S  nfUpas,  which  describes  human  judgment 
as  opposed  to  Christ's  day  of  final  account,  i]n^pa. 
ToD  Kvptov) ;  His  day  of  the  ofler  of  salvation  (2  Co 
6=,  Jn  9*  IP);  'the  day  of  Christ'  (Ph  1'");  'the 
day  of  the  Lord '  (2  Th  2=,  Ro  2'«,  2  Co  1'*,  Rev  6") ; 
'  the  day  of  God '  (2  P  3'=) ;  '  the  Lord's  day,'  ii 
KvpinKT]  Ttpiipa.  (Rev  1'") ;  the  day  of  the  gift  of  the 
Spirit  (Jn  14=") ;  the  day  of  completed  salvation 
(Ro  13'=);  'the  evil  day,'  of  trial  and  temptation 
(Eph  6") ;  '  as  children  of  the  day,'  i.e.  as  sons  who 
abstain  from  doing  evil  (1  Th  5'-  «,  Ro  13'^)  ;  a  day 
of  fuller  knowledge  (2  P  1");  and,  lastly,  the 
somewhat  enigmatical  passage,  '  Give  us  this  dav 
(ariticpov)  our  daily  (rbv  iwiomiov)  bread'  (Mt  6",  Lk 
1 P) ;  the  latter  expression  (see  art.  Lord's  Peayer) 
is  not  found  in  classical  Greek,  and  seems  to  have 


coming  day's';  the  Vulg.ate  has  suj'ersubstantialch 


DAY  OF  ATONEMENT 


DAY  OF  ATONEMENT 


419 


(cf.   Amer.    RVra).     See,   further,  artt.    DAY   OF 
Christ,  Day  (That),  Day  of  Judgment. 

LlTERATUBE.— Art.  '  Dav,'  by  H.  A.  White  in  Hastings'  DB, 
by  Karl  Marti  in  Encvc  BlU.,  and  by  F.  W.  Farrar  in  Smith's 
D£2;  also  'Tag'  in  Biehm's  EWB;  esp.  Swete's  Com.  on  St. 
Mark,  and  Hummer's  Com.  on  St.  Luke,  ad  loe. ;  and  cf.  the 
artt.  Time,  Nioht,  EscHATOLoaT. 

Geoege  L.  Robinson. 

DAY  OF  ATONEMENT  (Dnsan  dv  [ons?  "'],  V^pa 
[toO]  i^CKaaixoS). — The  eliief  OT  passages  bearing  on 
it  are  Lv  16.  23=''-2-,  but  some  further  details  are 
given  in  Ex  30'",  Lv  25**,  Nu  29'"".  An  earlier  and 
simpler  form  of  the  ceremony  is  prescribed  in  Ezk 
45i8-2o_  The  day  is  not  mentioned  in  the  Gospels, 
but  it  is  referred  to  as  •^  v-qaTela  in  Ac  27^  (also  Ep. 
Barn.  V-*,  Jos.  Ant.  XVII.  vi.  4). 

1.  It  is  not  necessary  in  the  present  article  to 
describe  fully  the  ritual  and  worship  of  the  day  ; 
only  the  salient  features  are  here  touched  upon 
which  offer  some  analogy  with  the  Christian 
Atonement.  The  more  important  parts  of  the 
ceremony  were,  briefly,  as  follows  : — 

(a)  The  high  priest  procured  and  brought  before 
the  Tent  a  bullock  as  a  sin-oft'ering  for  himself, 
and  two  goats  upon  which  lots  were  cast,  one 
being  destined  as  a  sin-offering  for  the  people,  and 
the  other  to  be  '  for  Azazel.'  He  sacrificed  the 
bullock,  and  carried  its  blood  into  the  Holy  of 
Holies,  where,  after  enveloping  the  mercy-seat 
with  a  cloud  of  burning  incense,  he  sprinkled  the 
blood  before  it.  He  then  came  out  and  sacrificed 
the  goat  for  the  people,  and,  re-entering  the  Holy 
of  Holies,  sprinkled  its  blood  before  the  mercy-seat. 
He  next  sprinkled  the  blood  of  each  animal  on  the 
altar  of  incense  in  tlie  Holy  Place ;  and,  lastly, 
he  sprinkled  the  mingled  blood  of  bullock  and  goat 
on  the  brazen  altar  in  the  outer  court.  Thus  the 
blood  (the  life)  of  the  animals,  representing  the 
life  of  priest  and  people,  was  oH'ered  before  God  ; 
and  they,  and  the  three  parts  of  the  Tent  polluted 
by  their  presence  during  the  preceding  year,  were 
cleansed,  and  atonement  was  made  for  them. 

(6)  The  goat  for  Azazel  was  then  brought  near. 
The  sins  of  the  people  were  confessed  over  it,  and 
it  was  led  into  the  wilderness.  The  two  goats 
were  intended  figuratively  to  represent  one  and  the 
same  being,  who,  though  sacrificed,  was  yet  living, 
and  able  to  carry  away  the  sins  of  the  people.  In 
the  Mishna  {YCnmt  vi.  1,  cf.  Ep.  Barn.  7°)  this 
thought  was  afterwards  emphasized  by  the  regula- 
tion that  the  goats  must  resemble  each  other  as 
closely  as  possible. 

(c)  The  high  priest  oflered  two  rams  as  a  burnt- 
oflering  for  himself  and  the  people,  signifying  the 
complete  ofl'ering  up  of  the  worshippers'  lives  and 
persons  to  God. 

(d)  The  skin,  flesh,  and  dung  of  the  bullock  and 
the  goat,  whose  blooil  had  made  atonement,  were 
burnt  outside  the  camp. 

2.  The  great  spiritual  truths  typified  by  this 
ceremony  are  to  a  certain  extent  drawn  out  in 
He  9'-»-  =i-"-8  lO"--. 

(a)  The  high  priest  entered  '  into  the  second 
[part  of  the  Tent]  once  a  year '  (iJTra^  toO  iviavroxi, 
i.e.  on  one  day  in  the  year),  9'.  But  Christ  entered 
into  'the  Holies'  once  for  all  {i(pa.irai,  v.'^)  ;  and 
see  V.-"-  10"'.  Thus  His  blood— i.e.  His  life  freed 
for  eternal  uses  by  death — is  perpetually  presented 
before  God. 

(6)  The  earthly  '  holies'  are  '  made  with  hands,' 
'  types  corresponding  to  the  real  ones '  (iiyTlTvira 
Turn  i\Tj0ivuy).  But  Christ  entered  into  '  lieaven 
itself,'  9=*. 

(c)  The  high  priest  entered  'in  the  blood  of 
another '  (9='')—'  witli  the  accompaniment  of  [by 
means  of,  5id]  the  blood  of  goats  and  calves': 
Christ,  witli  His  own  blood,  9'-.  And  the  Tent, 
'the   copies   {vToo^lyixaTci.)    of    the    things    in    tlie 


heavens,'  must  be  purified  with  the  former  :  but 
the  heavenly  things  with  better  sacrifices  than 
these,  9"'.  With  regard  to  the  meaning  of  this, 
Westcott  says :  '  It  may  be  said  that  even 
"  heavenly  things,"  so  far  as  they  embody  the 
conditions  of  man's  future  life,  contracted  by  the 
Fall  something  which  required  cleansing.  Man 
is,  according  to  the  revelation  in  Scripture,  so 
bound  up  with  the  whole  finite  order,  that  the 
consequences  of  his  actions  extend  througli  crea- 
tion in  some  way  which  we  are  unable  to  deline.' 

{d)  The  sacrifices  of  the  Day  of  Atonement  (and 
other  sacrifices — 'the  ashes  of  an  heifer,'  see  Nu 
19)  can  effect  only  the  purifying  of  the  flesh  ;  i.e. 
outward  ceremonial  cleansing.  But  if  they  can 
ett'ect  that,  a  fortiori  the  blood  of  Christ  can 
purify  our  consciences  from  the  defiling  contact 
of  dead  works,  9'^'*. 

(c)  The  high  priest  entered  alone  ;  which  fact 
signified  that  while  the  first  Tent  continued  to 
have  a  standing  among  men  (^x'"^"^'!'  (rriatv),  the 
way  for  all  men  into  '  the  Holies '  was  not  yet 
manifested,  9'*-.  But  now  '  we  have  confidence 
which  leads  us  to  enter  into  the  Holies  in  the 
blood  of  Jesus  by  a  new  and  living  way  which 
He  inaugurated  for  us,  through  the  veil,  that  is 
to  say  [the  way]  of  His  flesh,'  10'^'-. 

The  main  truths,  then,  at  which  the  writer  of 
the  Epistle  arrives  by  direct  reference  to  the  Day 
of  Atonement  are :  that  Christ  is  both  Priest  and 
Victim  ;  that  His  sacrifice  is  eternally  efficacious, 
and  that  it  is  being  eternally  presented  by  Him  in 
Heaven  ;  that  its  effects  are  not  ceremonial  but 
spiritual ;  and  that  we  now  have  free  access  to  the 
Father. 

3.  But  other  points  of  analogy  and  contrast 
suggest  themselves,  some  of  which  are  partially 
supplied  by  the  Ep.  to  the  Hebrews. 

(a)  The  high  priest  oflered  a  bullock  for  the 
atonement  of  his  own  sins.  '  The  law  appoints  as 
high  priests  men  possessed  of  weakness,'  He  7"'  5'-\ 
But  the  Son  was  'such  an  high  priest  as  was 
fitting  for  us,  holy,  guileless,  undefiled,'  7"^  And 
the  sinfulness  of  the  high  priest  appears  to  have 
been  the  reason  of  his  causmg  a  cloud  of  burning 
incense  to  hide  the  mercy-seat  from  his  sight. 
He  was  unfit,  until  atonement  had  been  made  for 
his  sins,  to  look  upon  the  place  of  God's  Presence. 
But  now  that  Christ  has  '  procured  eternal  salva- 
tion for  us,'  not  only  our  High  Priest  but  we  our- 
selves may  '  come  boldly  unto  the  throne  of  grace.' 

(6)  An  obvious  contrast  between  the  Jewish  and 
Christian  Atonement  is  aflbrded  by  the  fact  that 
the  former  was  possible  only  in  the  case  of  un- 
witting ofl'ences  {ay vo-rifi.aTa,  He  9'),  sins  committed 
'  in  ignorance '  (Lv.  4--  '^-  --■  -',  Nu  15-^'-",  contrast 
Nu  15™'-).  If  Christ's  Atonement  were  thus  limited, 
our  faith  were  vain,  we  should  be  yet  in  our  sins. 

(c)  It  is  important  to  notice  that  the  Jewish  sacri- 
fice was  very  dift'erent  from  those  of  the  heathen. 
Its  purpose  was  not  to  appease — to  buy  the  good- 
will of— a  cruel  and  capricious  deity.  The  oft'erings 
did  not  originate  with  men  ;  they  are  represented 
as  commanded  and  ajjpointed  by  God  Himself. 
They  were  due  to  His  own  loving  initiative ;  He 
showed  the  way  by  which  men,  who  were  hostile 
by  reason  of  their  sins,  might  be  reconciled  to  Him. 
So  likewise  '  God  so  loved  the  world  that  he  gave 
his  only-begotten  Son '  (Jn  3"*).  Nay  more  ;  Christ 
the  Victim  voluntarily  oflered  Himself  (Jn  10",  Mt 
20-*  II  Mk  lO-"").  Scripture  nowhere  speaks  of  God 
being  reconciled  to  man  ;  see  Ro  5'°  11'°,  2  Co 
5i8-2o_  Qo(i  ig  j^g^  hostile  to  us,  although  by  His 
very  nature  He  must  be  angry  with  sin  and 
punish  it;  but  we  are  hostile  to  God  (Lk  19", 
Ph  3",  Col  1=1,  Ja  4^). 

(rf)  The  ceremonies  performed  by  the  high  priest 
were  not  a  mere  opus  operatam,  the  magic  of  a 


420 


DAY  OF  ATONEMENT 


DAY  or  CHRIST 


medicine  man.  The  whole  congregation  liail 
morally  to  take  an  active  part.  Tlie  Day  of 
Atonement  -was  to  be  a  day  of  cessation  from 
■work,  like  a  SaMiatli,  and  a  day  when  every  man 
must  .illlict  (-:;■)  lii^  >i>n]—i.e.  render  his  soiil  con- 
trileanil  i»iiilinl  li\  iinuns  of  fasting,  self-Immilia- 
ti..n,  nn.l  n.iii.-M„;  ,,f  miis.  It  is  true  that  Is  SS-""' 
deuimiiii's  111.'  (iiii«nril  expressions  of  this  'afflic- 
tion of  the  soul '  when  they  are  unaccompanied  by 
the  necessary  moral  fruits,  as  Christ  Himself  does 
(Mt  6"=)  ;  but  Lv  2Tf-,  Nu  29'""  clearly  imply 
that  real  penitence  is  necessary  for  atonement. 
The  Mishna  also  recognizes  that,  while  the  cere- 
monies of  the  day  are  effectual  for  Israel  as  a 
A\  hole,  individuals  must  appropriate  the  results  by 
repentnnrp.  '  If  amansays,  "Iwill  sin  and  (then) 
rcprnt,  I  \\\]\  sin  and  (then)  repent,"  Heaven  does 
iii.t  '/\\r  liiiii  I  lie  means  of  practising  repentance  ; 
anil  il  \u:  >:iys.  "  I  will  sin,  and  the  Day  of  Atone- 
niuul  ^\ill  bring  atonement,"  the  Day  of  Atone- 
ment will  bring  no  atonement'  {YOtnd  viii.  8,  9). 
And  similarly  a  Christian's  faith  in  the  atoning 
death  of  Christ  is  not  merely  an  intellectual  ac- 
ceptance of  the  fact  that  He  died  for  each  and  all. 
Faith,  as  the  NT  teaches  it,  involves  a  conscious 
co-operation  with  Christ's  work.  That  work  was 
not  accomplished  to  free  us  from  the  necessity  of 
doing  anything.  The  atoning  work  of  the  God- 
Man  is  in  living  union  with  the  longings  and 
strivings  of  men  for  atonement,  and  thereby  makes 
them  effectual.  But  if  a  man  does  not  repent, — 
does  not  wi-sh  to  be  free  from  sin, — for  him  the 
Atonement  brings  no  atonement.  The  results  of 
Christ's  death  are  '  a  power  of  God,  leading  to 
salvation  '  (Ro  I"') ;  but  the  energy  remains  poten- 
tial and  useless  until  the  human  will  renders  it 
kinetic  by  deliberate  appropriation. 

(c)  And  this  truth  was  foreshadowed  in  the 
Jewish  atonement  not  only  by  the  fasting  of  the 
people,  but  in  the  ceremony  which  formed  the 
centre  and  kernel  of  it  all.  The  killing  of  an 
animal  and  the  shedding  of  its  blood  contained  a 
meaning  which  far  transcended  that  of  mere  death. 
The  body  is  '  the  expression  of  life  in  terms  of  its 
environment ' ;  the  blood  represents  the  life  set 
free  from  its  limiting  environment  for  higher  uses 
(Lv  17").  When  Christ,  therefore,  entered  lu  .imh 
'with  his  own  blood'  (He  9'-),  'to  appear  in  tlir 
presence  of  God  for  us'  (v.^-*).  He  began  'tlir 
eternal  presentation  of  a  life  which  eternally  is 
"the  life  that  died."'  But  'we  reckon  that' one 
died  on  behalf  of  all ;  in  that  case  all  died  '  (2  Co 
5")  ;  and  as  the  high  priest  offered  the  blood  of  the 
goat  which  symbolized  the  life  of  the  whole  people, 
so  '  the  life  that  died '  is  our  life,  in  complete  union 
■with  Christ's  (He  10>').  The  same  truth  is  e.x- 
pressed  in  another  form  in  He  10'-".  Christ's 
voluntary  self-offering  consisted  in  absolute  obedi- 
ence to  tlie  Father's  will,  an  obedience  having  its 
seat  in  a  body  prepared  for  Him.  '  In  which  will 
we  have  been  sanctified  through  the  body  of  Jesus 
Christ  once  for  all.'  But  that  is  rendered  possible 
only  because  of  His  living  union  with  us  which 
makes  us  part  of  His  body.  '  The  Church  is  the 
extension  of  the  Incarnation.'  And  this  vital  union 
is  strengthened  and  perpetuated  by  the  faithfxil  ap- 
propriation of  it  in  the  Sacrament  of  His  body  and 
blood. 

(/)  It  has  been  said  above  that  the  go.-it  '  for 
Azazel '  (AV  '.scape-goat')  was  <(.ii  '.1.  ! .  .1   (;  m  i- 

tively  to  be  the  same  animal  astl - 

sacrificed.     Its  blood  was  shed  fnr  i  ii 

of  the  people,  and,  at  the  same  timr,  n  i.m,i,  ii|,.,)i 
itself  the  burden  of  their  sins  in  ordir  to  carry  it 
away.  There  is  no  distinct  reference  to  tlie  scape- 
goat in  Hebrews,  but  a  possible  allusion  occurs  in 
9'-*,  where  the  writer  quotes  Is  .13'=  I").  Christ  was 
'once  offered  to  bear  (aveyeyKeiv)  the  sins  of  many.' 


The  verb  seems  to  contain  the  double  thought  of 
'  offering  up '  and  '  taking  up  upon  oneself '  as  a 
burden  ;  cf.  Jn  1=». 

iff)  After  the  atonement  was  completed  and  the 
sins  carried  away,  tlnic  fullDwcil  the  sacrifice  of 
the  rams  as  a  Innni  oil.  rinu.  It  is  peculiarly 
significant  that  in  i,v  li;  '  iIh'  liigh  priest  is  bidden 
to  'offer  his  burnt  (illi-rinL;  and  tlie  burnt-offering 
of  the  people,  and  ma/^c  on  atonement  for  himself 
and  for  the  people.'  The  great  atonement  in  the 
sanctuary,  though  complete,  was  only  an  initial 
act  which  needed  the  continued  burnt-ottering  to 
render  its  eflects  permanent.  This  symbolizes  the 
sequel  and  corollary  of  the  truth  which  formed  the 
subject  of  (f/)  and  (e).  Our  own  life  having  been 
otiered  upon  Calvary  in  union  with  Christ's,  we '  died 
with  him,'  and  we  are  '  alive  unto  God '  through 
Him.  That  being  so,  we  are  bound  to  make  an 
active  appropriation  of  our  part  in  His  eternal 
presentation  of  the  offering  in  heaven ;  we  are 
bound  to  render  permanent  the  effects  of  the  great 
Atonement  by  yielding  up  our  whole  spirit  and 
.soul  and  l)ody  as  a  perpetual  burnt-oftering.  See 
Ko  12',  1  P  2=,  He  13'^ 

4.  "The  above  suggestions  are  those  dealing  with 
the  more  fundamental  points,  but  they  are,  of 
course,  far  from  being  exhaustive  of  the  analogies 
which  may  be  drawn.  The  isolation  of  the  high 
priest  when  he  entered  the  sanctuary  suggests  a 
comparison  of  He  9'  {fidvoi)  with  V""  {Kexapi<^iJ-^''os). 
His  double  entrance,  first  for  himself  and  then  for 
the  people,  seems  to  foreshadow  the  two  entrances 
of  Christ  into  the  Unseen,  once  when  He  entered 
it  at  death,  from  which  He  returned  victorious, 
and  again  when  He  entered  it  by  His  resurrection 
and  ascension  '  to  appear  before  the  face  of  God  on 
our  behalf  '  (He  9-^).  Again,  the  return  of  the 
high  priest  to  the  people  in  the  outer  court  at  the 
close  of  the  ceremony  recalls  the  words  of  He  9^, 
'  a  second  time  without  sin  shall  he  appear  to  them 
that  wait  for  him.'  And,  finally,  the  burning  of 
the  sacrifice  outside  the  gate  is  used  as  yet  another 
tyjieof  Christ(Hel3"'-). 

LiTEKATURE.— 1.  On  the  ceremonies  of  the  day :  Comm.  on  Lv 
16,  esp.  Dillmann ;  Mishna,  Y6ma  (ed.  Surenhusius,  with  Lat. 
Ir.  .and  notes,  1699)  ;  Maimonides'  account  of  the  ceremonies  (tr. 
l.\-  I'.-iitzsch  at  the  end  of  his  Com.  on  Hebrews);  Jos.  Ant.  llL 
,.  :;  :  art.  in  Hastings'  DB,  vol.  i.  p.  199  S. 

_'.  I'll  tlie  significance  of  the  ceremonies:  Sherinpham'g 
}  .  ,'i'f  -',  to  which  is  added  (p.  105  ff.)an  elaborate  conijiarison  by 
i;iii'iifiid  of  the  work  of  the  high  priest  with  that  of  Christ; 
Comm.  on  Hebrews,  esp.  Westcott,  with  the  Add.  Notes  on 
chs.  8-10;  Milligan,  Asrenitionand  Heavcnlt/  Priesthnnd. 

3.  On  the  doctrine  of  the  Atonement :  M'Leod  Caiiipbelt.  On 
the  Nature  of  the  Atonement  ■  K.  W.  Dale,  The  Doctruu-  of  the 
Atotiement ;  H.  N.  Oxenham,  The  Catholic  Doctrine  of  the 
Atonement ;  F.  D.  Maurice,  The  Doctrine  of  Sacrifice  ;  B.  F. 
Westcott,  The  Victory  of  the  Cross ;  Dorner,  System  of  Christian 
Doctrine  ;  esp.  iv.  1-124.  Intimately  connected  with  the  subject 
arc  treatises  on  the  Incarnation.  A.  H.  M'NEILE. 

DAY  OF  CHRIST.— This  is  the  general  expres- 
sion ust'il  by  riTtain  iif  tlu'  NT  writers  to  indicate 
that  monuiit  in  time  in  which  Jesus  the  Christ 
shall  rea]ipear  tu  establish  His  Messianic  kingdom. 
It  marks  the  beginning  of  that  new  age  which 
Jews  and  Christians  expected  would  follow  the 
present  evil  one.  The  term  thus  lacks  the  precise 
reference  of  the  Day  of  Judgment  (wh.  see),  and  is 
also  more  general  than  the  term  Parousia ;  but 
all  three  of  these  terms  refer  to  the  same  point  in 
time,  and  represent  ditt'erent  phases  of  the  same 
event.  It  is  spoken  of  indiscriminately  as  the 
'  day  of  Christ '  ( Ph  l'"),  '  day  of  the  Lord '  ( 1  Th  5=), 
'day  of  Jesus  Christ'  (Ph  1*),  'day  of  our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ '  (I  Co  P),  and  '  day  of  our  Lord  Jesus' 
(2  Co  1").  It  is  generally  thought  of  in  connexion 
with  the  great  assize  which  is  to  be  established  by 
the  reappearing  Christ  (1  Th  5=,  Ph  l"-").  It  was 
then  that  the  process  of  s.anctification  was  to  reach 
its  real  completion  (Ph  1'")  and  salvation  be  con- 


DAY  OF  JUDGMENT 


DAY  OF  JUDGMENT 


suiumatecl  (1  Co  5^).  It  was  to  come  unexpectedly 
(1  Th  5'-,  2  r  3'"),  but  was  to  be  preceded  by  cer- 
tain premonitory  conditions  which  had  not  been 
fulfilled  at  the  time  of  the  writing  of  2  Thessa- 
lonians  (2  Th  2^--).  There  is  no  reference  in  the 
NT  to  an  identification  of  the  Fall  of  Jerusalem 
witli  this  day,  and  all  such  interpretations  must  be 
read  into  it.  In  order  to  grasp  its  real  significance, 
it  is  necessary  to  remember  that  the  early  Chris- 
tians did  not  believe  that  Jesus  had  done  strictly 
Messianic  work  during  His  earthly  career,  and 
that  they  looked  forward  to  His  return  as  the  time 
when  He  would  take  up  the  work  of  the  Messiah 
pictured  in  the  apocalypses.  This  work  was  to  be 
inaugurated  with  the  resurrection  of  the  dead,  the 
establishing  of  judgment,  and  the  conquest  of  His 
enemies.  In  the  Apocalypse  {Rev  6=  lo"- '"  19"-  ") 
this  period  of  conquest  is  prominent,  but  not  in 
other  portions  of  the  NT.  Here  also  there  is  to  be 
noticed  a  distinction  drawn  between  the  '  day  of 
Christ '  and  that  '  great  day  of  God '  which  follows 
the  one  thousand  years'  reign  of  Christ  on  earth. 
Such  a  view,  however,  is  not  clearly  presented  in 
other  portions  of  the  NT,  the  nearest  approach 
being  1  Co  15^'  ^,  in  which  Jesus  is  spoken  of  as 
giving  over  the  kingdom  to  God  the  Father.  See, 
further.  Day  of  Judgment,  Parou.sia. 

Shailer  Mathews. 
DAY  OF  JUDGMENT.— i.  In  the  teaching  of 
Jesus. — 1.  The  Day  of  Judgment  is  one  of  the 
concepts  inherited  by  Jesus.  Its  origin  is  to  be 
sought  in  the  religious  belief,  common  to  practi- 
cally all  primitive  peoples,  in  a  tribal  deity  who 
would  punish  the  enemies  of  the  tribe.  This 
elemental  concept  gained  varied  forms  in  the  de- 
velopment of  different  peoples.  In  some  cases  it 
was  never  carried  over  into  the  field  of  individual 
ethics,  and  in  others  it  shared  in  the  moral  growth 
of  its  possessors.  In  the  case  of  the  Hebrews  it  is 
to  be  seen  in  the  '  Day  of  .Jahweh,'  which  formed 
so  large  and  important  an  element  of  the  prophetic 
message.  In  its  earliest  forms  the  expectation  of 
this  day  involved  .simjjly  the  punishment  of  the 
enemies  of  Israel  by  Jahweh  the  God  of  the  nation. 
As  the  moral  content  of  prophetism  developed, 
however,  this  punishment  inflicted  by  Jahweh  was 
foretold  to  include  the  punishment  of  t!ie  Hebrew 
nation.  Amos  and  the  great  prophets  who  suc- 
ceeded him  warned  a  luxurious  nation  that  it  had 
grown  guilty  and  degenerate,  and  would  be  de- 
stroyed as  an  indication  of  Jahweh's  riulitcdusness 
(Am  25-8  39-15  510-13  64-8)_  After  A111..S  llir  l>:iy  of 
Jahweh  never  lost  its  religious  colouring,  liut.  ils  use 
was  extended  until  it  included  in  its  scope  not  only 
wicked  Israel  but  a  wicked  world  (Zeph  1=-'"  2'-is 
38.  i4-a)j_  Ezekiel  conceived  of  it  as  a  day  of  battle 
in  which  Jahweh  would  conquer  Israel's  foes  (Ezk 
302"-  34«  398«--) ;  but  Malaehi  foretold  the  fearful 
punishment  of  all  the  wicked,  Jews  and  Gentiles 
alike.  It  was  this  extension  of  punisliment,  and 
the  increase  in  the  number  of  the  condemned,  tliat 
gave  particular  force  to  the  idea  of  the  remnant 
which  was  to  be  saved. 

Obviously  the  formal  concept  here  is  that  of  the 
Oriental  monarch  who  establishes  a  court  of  jus- 
tice, and  decrees  rewards  and  punishment.  Jahweh 
was  never  conceived  of  by  the  prophets  in  terms 
of  natural  law,  but  always  in  terms  of  this  analogy. 
In  fact  it  would  be  probably  truer  to  say  that  the 
monarchical  concept  of  God  was  not  an  analogy 
but  something  more.  It  was  this  concept  which 
conditioned  teaching  as  to  punishment  throughout 
the  entire  Biblical  period.  Subsequent  to  the  pro- 
phetic era,  under  the  influence  of  Persi.an  dualism, 
there  was  a  marked  tendency  to  extend  the  range 
of  judgment  to  nature  as  well  as  to  men,  and  the 
God  who  sat  upon  the  throne  was  more  than  a 
mere  national  deity  judging  the  enemy  of  a  par 


ticular  people.  This  extension  of  the  idea  is  to  be 
found  in  the  apocalypses,  which  in  so  many  ways 
lie  behind  the  Judaism  current  in  the  time  of 


JNIessianic  scheme.  The  Day  of  Judgment  of 
Jlessianism  is  the  prophet's  Day  of  Jahweh  given 
new  content  by  the  appropriation  of  certain  ele- 
ments from  the  cosmic  myths  of  Babylon,  and 
new  colour  because  of  the  new  literary  vehicle, 
the  apocalypse.  As  a  part  of  the  more  highly 
developed  Messianism,  it  sometimes  ceased  to 
represent  a  single  judicial  act  on  the  part  of  the 
sovereign  Deity,  and  with  something  like  a  recur- 
rence to  the  picture  of  Ezekiel,  came  to  stand  for 
the  period  of  struggle  in  which  the  Messiah  was  to 
overcome  and  punish  the  enemies  of  a  righteous 
nation.  In  its  new  form  the  thought  of  the  day 
became  increasingly  transcendental,  and  joined  to 
itself  the  idea  of  hell  newly  derived  from  the  older 
belief  in  Sheol.  In  fact  it  would  be  difiicult  to 
understand  the  full  force  of  the  Day  of  Judgment, 
as  it  appeared  both  in  Jewish  and  Christian  litera- 
ture, without  reference  to  the  fate  of  the  dead. 
In  the  place  of  a  penalty  consisting  of  national 
punishment,  there  grew  up  during  the  Greek  period 
of  Jevidsh  history  a  tolerably  elaborate  belief  as  to 
punishment  inflicted  upon  individuals  after  death. 
It  is  difficult  to  know  just  when  this  idea  of  hell  as 
a  place  of  punishment,  as  over  against  Sheol  as  the 
abode  of  the  disembodied  dead,  was  first  brought 
into  relation  with  the  Day  of  Judgment,  but  by 
the  time  of  the  apocalyptists  we  find  the  correla- 
tion complete  (Eth.  finoch  2V-  ^  iS^  54i-  =  62'=- " 
9Q26. 27)  Jn  fact  the  punishment  inflicted  upon  men 
is  distinctly  recognized  as  adjusted  to  the  condi- 
tions of  their  life  in  Eth.  Enoch  22'-". 

Thus  the  Day  of  Judgment  as  a  form  of  the  Day 
of  Jahweh  became  the  central  point  in  Messianic 
eschatology  and  the  nomistic  morality  of  Judaism. 
Ditt'erent  teachers  elaborated  its  details  in  diflerent 
ways,  but,  by  the  time  Judaism  was  fairly  de- 
veloped, the  Day  of  Judgment  was  conceived  of  as 
involving  the  examination  of  the  records  of  each 
individual  (Dn  7'").  More  or  less  literally,  books 
were  believed  to  be  kept  in  heaven,  generally  by 
one  of  the  seven  angels,  in  which  the  deeds  of  men 
were  recorded  (Eth.  Enoch  89"  90"-",  Ascens. 
Isaiah  9'-').  In  the  final  assize  these  books  were 
opened  and  balanced,  and  the  future  of  the  indi- 
vidual was  determined  according  to  the  preponder- 
ance of  his  good  or  evil  deeds  (Eth.  Enoch  5P--  '^ 
ggsifl-.  90"- =0,  Pt,-/,:c  Aboth  3-\  Ascens.  Isaiah  9--; 
cf.  Lk  102«,  Kev  3^  13«  17^  20i=  21^').  The  difficulty 
in  such  a  mechanical  basis  of  judgment  was  to 
some  degree  mitigated  by  the  introduction  of  some- 
thing apiiroaching  the  later  doctrine  of  super- 
erogation, by  which  the  merit  of  the  patriarchs 
could  be  transferred  to  the  Jews.  This  particular 
doctrine,  however,  it  is  difficult  to  trace  distinctly 
in  the  days  of  Jesus,  although  later  tlie  transfer  of 
merits  from  I  lie  p.il  1  i.inlis  is  disliiiclly  recognized. 
From  tlii-i  iilr.'i  ui  III.'  :i--,izi',  in  wliich  sentences 
were  f(iriii:ill\  i.;i-:-r,l  l,y  tin'  juJ-r,  ;uose  the  two 
opposing  iiiiMTiils  (.1  <  .m.lriiiiKiliuii  .-md  acquittal. 
These  two  concepts  are  the  two  foci  of  much  of  the 
NT  teaching  concerning  the  outcome  of  conduct. 

While  Jesus  opposed  the  mercantile  conception 
of  rewards  and  punishment,  the  Day  of  Judgment 
occupied  a  central  position  in  His  teaching.  With 
Him  as' with  all  men  of  the  prophetic  type,  the 
Judgment  stretched  across  the  horizon  of  liumiin 
destiny.  No  action  in  life  wns  iiH.iMlly  neutral. 
A  man  would  ui\r  :h-.(hiiiI  .iI  Mi.'  .Indgment  for 
the  very  words  whirl,   lir  s|.ok,.,\li   i^"}.     It  was 

through  the  oulco s  ,.i  liic  ihal  .1.  mis  estimated 

conduct,  and  these  uuU:uiiies  luinci-cd  into  what 
the  Gospels  designate   the  consummation  of  the 


DAY  OF  JUDGMENT 


DAY  OF  JUDGMENT 


precisely  I 
be    ifrnors 


age  ;  that  is,  the  great  catastrophe  in  whicli  the 
present  e\'il  age  comes  to  a  close  and  the  new 
Messianic  age  begins. 

2.  The  terms  which  the  Gospels  represent  Jesus 
as  using  to  indicate  tlie  Day  of  Judgment  are 
various. 

(a)  Sometimes  the  great  event  which  would  determine  the 
final  destinies  of  men  is  cilled  expressly  '  the  day  of  judgment  ■ 
(Mt  1015  1122. 24  1236),  or  more  simply  '  the  judgment '  (Mt  621-  2^ 
1241-44),    These  two  terras  are  essentially  the  same. 

(6)  In  one  instance  (Mt  11=2-  23)  the  '  judgment  of  Gehenna  ' 
is  mentioned,  but  this  refers  not  so  much  to  the  Judgment-day 
itself  as  to  the  punishment  inflicted  upon  hj-pocrites  and 
sinners  (cf.  522). 

(c)  ParaUel  with  these  terms  is  'that  day'  (Mt  722,  Ml;  1332, 
cf.  Mt  24^2  2629,  Lk  1012).  it  is  in  this  term  that  the  day  is 
described  in  the  apocal.\-pse  of  Mark  (cf.  Mk  12M),  for  the 
Second  Gospel  does  not  use  the  term  *the  day  of  judgment." 
Possibly  the  same  reference  is  to  be  found  in  the  sayings  of 
Jesus  recorded  in  Jn  1623^26.    See  Day  (Tuat). 

(d)  '  The  day  of  the  Son  of  Man '  as  a  precise  expression  is 
found  only  in  Lk  1721-30,  where  the  thought  of  Judgment  is 
immediately  related  to  the  eschatological  reappearance  of 
Jesus  as  Christ.  A  similar,  although  not  a  precise,  reference  is 
to  be  found  in  other  passages  speaking  of  the  Parousia,  notably 
Mk  1326  1462  and  their  parallels. 

(e)  •  The  last  day  *  is  a  favourite  expression  of  the  Fourth 
Gospel,  to  denote  the  day  on  which  men  were  to  be  raised  from 
the  dead  (Jn  639-  44.  M  1124).  That  this  day  of  resurrection  is  to 
be  identified  with  the  Day  of  Judgment  appears  not  only  from 
the  entire  drift  of  the  Messianic  expectation  current  in  the  time 
of  Jesus,  but  also  expressly  in  Jn  1243. 

3.  The  time  of  the  Day  of  Judgment  ivas  not 
_--r_.i_  gxed  by  Jesus,  and  in  fact  He  is  said  to 

ignorant  concerning  it  (Mk  13'-)  ;  but  the 
Gospels  represent  Him  as  announcing  its  coming 
before  His  contemporaries  die  (Mk  IS**  9'||,  Mt  ICP, 
cf.  Jn  212<'-23),  and  this  was  the  expectation  of  the 
Apostolic  Church  in  general.  Not\vithstanding 
the  indefiniteness  of  its  coming,  tlie  day  is  one  for 
which  all  should  be  watching  (ilk  IS^s^s-s?  14SS 
Lk  12''  21^*),  and  its  nearness  can  be  argued  from 
tlie  signs  of  the  times  (Mt  16')  as  well  as  from 
various  portents  described  in  the  phraseology  of 
prophecy  and  apocalyptic. 

WTiether  Jesus  Himself  regarded  the  Judgment-day  as  in- 
vohing  the  fall  of  Jerusalem,  or  whether  He  regarded  the 
inevitable  destruction  of  the  Jewish  State  as  one  of  the  fore- 
runners of  the  Judgnient,  will  remain  a  matter  of  dispute  until 
the  critical  composition  of  Mk  13  is  more  precisely  fixed.  On 
the  whole,  however,  in  view  of  Jesus'  forecast  of  the  punish- 
ment to  come  upon  the  Jewish  people  both  in  Galilee  and  in 
Jerusalem,  it  seems  probable  that  He  did  in  some  precise  way 
correlate  the  fall  of  Jerusalem  with  the  eschatological  Judg- 
ment. But  it  would  be  a  serious  mistake  to  regard  that 
destruction  of  Jerusalem  as  exhausting  the  content;  of  His 
expectation  of  His  Parousia.  Tlic-  piiiii>hmtnt  inflicted  was  to 
be  universal,  not  Jewish.  Ilclii"  I  ;  :  -  ;  .  .i.l- .1  the  fall  of 
Jerusalem  as  in  any  trnr  ^.  ^  .1  [■ , r.:.usia,  it 

is  inconceivable  that  thtl    ^1      >.   -  1  p  rtionsof 

the  NT  written  suhseq'i.  til  •  _     ,,     _  , .  n  no  hint 

of  such  interpretation.     I;,  -  "■.'I'l'..  ^  tlie  Judg- 

ment is  not  a  pr        •  >  Milt,  futurt-.  eschatological. 

At  the  same  i  tic  in  mind  that  the  Fourtli 

Gospel  apprt '  :  :  -   which    attention    must    be 

presently  C.1II.  :,      .  .,:-    the  Judgment  is  eschato- 

logical  (Jn  5"    ■  1'  '    CI  tloes  not  need  to  wait  until 

that  event  to  fix  his  iic-tiii>.  That  is  .liready  determined  by 
the  acceptance  or  rejection  of  Jesus  (.In  oi^  19  ]2i').  Such 
passages  as  contain  the  teaching  are.  however,  not  to  he  inter- 
preted as  indicating  a  loss  of  lielief  in  the  coming  of  the  Judg- 
ment-day as  a  pomt  in  time,  but  rather  as  tlie  Johannihe 
equivalent  and  supplement  of  the  Apostohc  doctrine  of  justifi- 
cation by  faith. 

i.  The  Judge  is  apparently  to  be  Jesus  Himself 
in  His  Me.ssianic  capacitj'  (Mt  13"'  24"  25I"  "'•'•'■). 
At  the  same  time,  in  tlie  Synoptics  God  is  also 
referred  to  as  Judge  (Mt  18==  20«  22",  Lk  18'). 
This  double  conception  is  to  be  found  eJso  in  the 
apocalyptic  literature,  and  is  easily  understood  by 
reference  to  the  representative  character  of  the 
Messiah.  In  Lk  22'°  the  Apostles  are  also  re- 
garded as  judges  in  the  case  of  the  twelve  tribes 
of  Israel.  This  is  a  form  of  the  belief  in  the 
judicial  prerogatives  of  tin-  saiiit-^  which  seems  to 
have  been  current  in  the  eaily  I'liurch  (cf.  1  Co 
6=-'),  and  may  be  inferred  alsD  fruui  the  request  of 
the  sons  of  llebedee  to  occupy  seats  on  the  right 
and  left  of  Jesus  when  He  came  in  His  kingdom 


(Mt  20=1  II  Mk  1(F).  The  Fourth  Gospel  represents 
Jesus  as  expressly  denying  (Jn  8I'  12"),  and  also 
as  affirming  that  He  is  the  Judge  (Jn  5—-  27-  a)  gi*). 
But  such  inconsistency  can  be  resolved  either  by 
considering  that  Jesus  at  one  time  is  thinking  of 
His  historical  and  at  another  of  His  eschatological 
duties,  or  by  a  reference  to  the  general  position  of 
the  Evangelist  that  the  inissinn  of  the  Christ  in 
His  historical  miiii>tiv  «:is  lur  the  purpose  of 
salvation  rather  tlian  f.'ir  i  ciii.Iciiiuation  (Jn  3'"). 

5.  The  subjects  cif  the  .hulyincnt  are  men  at 
large,  with  particular  reference  to  those  who  have 
come  in  contact  with  the  historical  Jesus,  includ- 
ing His  disciples.  The  question  as  to  whether 
those  who  never  heard  of  Jesus  are  to  be  subject 
to  this  Judgment  is  not  distinctly  raised  or  settled 
in  the  Gospels,  but  the  universality  of  the  Judg- 
ment seems  inevitable  from  Christ's  \vamings, 
notably  in  the  parable  of  the  Tares  (Mt  IS"-**- 
36-43. 47-60),  These  passages  further  indicate  that  at 
the  Day  of  Judgment  mankind  will  be  gathered 
together  before  the  Judgment-throne  by  the  angels 
— a  further  utilization  by  Jesus  of  a  conventional 
ilessianic  expectation. 

6.  The  aicards  of  the  Judgment-day  are  :  («)  for 
those  who  have  accepted  Him  as  Christ,  eternal 
life,  including  the  resurrection  (Mk  9^'  10"  122^, 
Jit  19='-  =^  23«  Jn  5=»  &^-  «•  «•  ■•^).  (6)  For  the  wicked 
the  Judgment-day  fixes  the  destiny  of  misery, 
which  is  described  in  a  variety  of  figures,  such  as 
the  Gehenna  fire  (Mk  9*',  j\It  5^),  destruction 
(Mt  10^-=«,  Mk  8'«-'^).  Tlie  terror  of  the  day  is 
also  forecast  in  the  various  portents  witli  which  it 
is  to  be  ushered  in,  drawn  from  the  figures  of 
prophecy  and  apocalypse  (Mt  24^-  *• '"',  Mk  8^'). 

7.  There  is  a  critical  question  as  to  whether 
many  of  these  saj'ings  concerning  a  Messianic 
Judgment -day  may  not  be  a  reflexion  of  the 
Apostolic  hope  rather  than  the  express  teaching 
of  Jesus.  This  is  particularly  true  in  the  case  of 
all  passages  quoted  from  Mt  25""*'.  It  is  not 
possible,  however,  &o  to  explain  all  the  teaching 
contained  in  the  Gospels.  Objective  criticism  must 
decide  tliat  many,  if  not  a  great  majority,  of  these 
sayings  come  from  Jesus  Himself.  The  only 
ground  upon  which  they  can  bo  rejected  as  genuine 
logia  is  the  dogmatic  presupposition  that  Jesus 
was  superior  to,  and  independent  of,  current  Messi- 
anism.  Such  a  position  is  diflicult,  however,  in 
view  of  the  relation  of  Jesus  to  His  times,  and  His 
undoubted  expectation  that  He  would  return  with 
completed  Mes.sianic  dignity.  It  is  an  unsafe 
method  of  criticism  which  determines  first  what 
.Te-us.  loulJ  ..1  could  not  have  said,  and  tlicn  makes 
this  (liicniiiii.itidn  the  critical  criterion  by  which 
I.)  .Icciile  \\\<  illation  to  the  current  of  develop- 
ing Mrssiaiii-<m.  His  superiority  to  the  apocalyptic 
expectation  of  His  contemporaries  is  no  more 
marked  than  His  use  of  certain  elements  of  tlieur 
hope  for  the  coming  of  the  eschatological  Messianic 
era.  Yet  it  is  to  be  borne  in  mind  constantly  tliat 
here,  as  in  so  much  of  the  teaching  of  Jesus,  a  new 
content  is  given  by  Him  to  current  vocabularies 
and  concepts.  The  standards  of  judgment  are  no 
longer  those  of  tlie  apnr-.-ily|ifii-  writi-r-^.  Ethnic 
prerogatives  are  s\\c]'l  :i":i\        \  tn.i.i  .  .lestinv  is 

to  be  sett  lei  1  net   1  y  In     i-:      ; \   c  ditini,  but 

by  his  relation  tu(....l.      ,\ ,.  lui  called 

Him  'Lord,'  but  thu.~e  mIiu  ii.<l  l.u.l  -  wM,  were  to 
enter  the  kingdom  of  heaven.  Care  bestowed  upon 
a  poor  disciple  was  an  assurance  of  the  bliss  of 
heaven.  Such  a  change  of  moral  values  carries 
Jesus  over  into  something  other  than  a  mechanical 
doctrine  of  rewards  and  punishments  and  of  statu- 
tory merit.  Instead  of  a  balancing  of  good  deeds 
and  bad,  it  is  evident  from  both  the  S.ynoptics  and 
the  Fourth  Gospel  that  He  recognized  in  eternal 
life  the  suvimum  bonum,  which  is  quite  other  than 


DAY  OF  JUDGMENT 


DAY  OF  JUDGMENT 


423 


the  sensuous  joys  of  Enoch  and  sonic  of  the  Rabbis. 
Eternal  life  witli  Jesus  is  not  an  artilicial  rewartl, 
but  rather  the  consummation  of  personality  wliicli 
is  determined  by  faith  and  relationship  witli  Gmi, 
and  includes  the  resurrection  of  the  body.  The 
Day  of  Judgment,  however  else  it  may  be  used  by 
Jesus,  is  primarily  a  pedagogical  point  of  contact 
with  morals  and  religion.  It  is  an  integral  point 
of  His  teaching,  not  in  the  sense  that  it  was  an 
opportunity  f'lr  (Un\  to  wreak  vengeance  upon  the 
enemies  of  the  Ji-ws,  but  in  that  it  expressed  the 
outcome  of  life,  wliich  is  always  to  be  lived  in  view 
of  an  impending  eternity.  The  imagery  with  which 
He  clothes  this  fundamental  idea  is  Jewisli,  and 
must  be  treated  in  the  same  method  as  all  pro- 
phetic imagery.  But  in  such  treatment  it  is  im- 
possible to  deny  that  Jesus  distinctly  teaches  that 
the  final  destiny  of  mankind  is  a  matter  that  lies 
beyond  death,  and  is  conditioned  by  one's  life  before 
death.  Any  constructive  use  of  the  concept  of  the 
Day  of  Judgment,  as  it  is  described  in  the  Gospels, 
is  accordingly  subject  to  the  general  considerations 
which  must  obtain  in  the  constructive  use  of  the 
entire  Messianic  scheme  of  Judaism  as  it  appears 
in  the  NT.  So  far  as  Jesus  Himself  is  concerned, 
this  is  one  of  the  inevitable  problems  of  His  position 
as  a  revelation  of  God  in  terms  of  a  historically 
conditioned  individuality.  The  truth  of  Christi- 
anity in  this,  as  in  others  of  its  phases,  does  not 
rise  and  fall  with  the  linality  of  its  expository  and 
pedagogical  concepts.  Within  the  concept  of  the 
Day  of  Judgment  lies  the  profound  recognition  on 
the  part  of  Jesus  of  the  fact  that  a  man's  ultimate 
destiny  will  be  fixed  in  accordance  with  the  im- 
mutable laws  of  God.  To  Ijc  .saved  is  something 
more  than  to  win  the  blessings  of  an  acquittal  at 
the  Judgment-day  of  .lu<l,iism.  It  is  rather  to 
possess  a  quality  of  life  due  to  the  soul's  relation 
with  God  through  faith,  which  will  eventuate  in 
those  blessed  results  which  are  pictured  by  the 
Gospels  in  terms  of  the  apocalypse. 

ii.  In  the  teaching  of  the  Apostles.— In  the 
teaching  of  the  Apostles  the  Day  of  Judgment  has 
a  position  quite  as  central  as  m  the  teaching  of 
Jesus.  But  even  more  important  is  it  in  what 
may  be  called  their  system  of  teaching.  With 
them  as  with  Jesus,  the  chief  end  of  faith  is  the 
achievement  of  salvation,  that  is,  eternal  life  ;  but 
their  thought  is  more  formally  concentrated  on  the 
events  of  the  great  day.  St.  Paul  draws  out  the 
logical  relations  of  these  elements  more  elaborately 
than  any  of  the  other  NT  writers,  but  it  is  easy 
to  see  that  there  is  no  radical  difference  at  this 
point  between  him  and  them.  All  alike  held  that 
there  was  no  escaiiing  the  Judgment  of  God 
(Ro  2\  cf.  He  9-',  Gal  1«-  25-^-im-)- 

1.  The  term  'day  of  judgment'  does  not  occur 
in  the  Pauline  teaching,  and  in  fact  only  in  2  Peter 
and  1  John.  The  day  is  commonly  denominated 
'the  judgment,'  and  even  more  frequently  is  re- 
ferred to  in  specific  phra.ses  as  'that  day 'or  'the 
day'  (1  Co  3").  With  this  must  be  identilied  also 
the  'day  of  Christ,'  although  the  term  has  a  some- 
what wider  connotation  (see  DAY  OF  Christ)  (1  Co 
1'*  55,  2  Co  1",  Ph  !«•  i»  21''),  or  '  day  of  the  Lord ' 
(1  Th  5=).  In  one  or  two  instances  also  it  is 
called  '  the  great  day '  (Jude  «,  Rev  6").  The  belief 
in  the  same  great  assize  is  to  be  seen  lying  behind 
the  idea  of  condemnation  {Kplfia)  which  is  so  fre- 
qtiently  met  with  in  the  NT. 

2.  It  is  around  this  Day  of  Judgment,  as  one  of 
the  elements  in  the  establishing  of  the  Messianic 
era,  that  the  'judgment'  of  the  Apostles  continually 
circles.  All  of  them  refprred  to  it  a«  one  of  the 
things  to  be  assumed  .-is  lielirvcd  in  l.y  all  Chris- 
tians (He  6=,  Kplfui).  It  iiii'jlil  M  .111  strange  to 
the  heathen  (Ac  17=i),  l.ul  ii  h.l-,  .m.'  iif  the  ele- 
mentary expectations  of  all  Jews  and  proselytes. 


It  was  to  come  %\ithin  the  lifetime  of  men  living 
during  the  first  age,  and  its  awards  would  be  final 
for  the  eternity  which  then  began.  Its  subjects 
were  to  be  all  mankind,  as  St.  Paul  elaborately 
argues  in  the  opening  chapters  of  Romans.  They 
were  to  be  both  the  living  and  the  dead.  This,  of 
course,  implies  the  bringing  of  the  dead  from  Sheol, 
and  therefore  accounts  for  the  exceptional  expres- 
sions which  speak  of  the  '  resurrection  of  judgment ' 
( Jn  5=",  cf.  Ac  lO-'-,  Rev  20'=- ").  Such  a  resurrec- 
tion of  the  dead  must  be  treated  as  something  other 
than  the  acquisition  of  the  body  of  the  resurrection, 
which  was  to  be  a  part  of  the  great  reward  of 
the  believer.  In  accordance  with  the  apocalyptic 
literature,  angels  were  also  to  be  judged,  and 
that,  too,  by  the  saints  (1  Co  6--% 

3<  This  universality  of  the  Judgment  lay  at  the 
bottom  of  much  of  the  discussion  concerning  justi- 
fication by  faith.  The  Christians  believed  that 
they,  as  well  as  others,  were  to  stand  before  the 
Judgment-seat  of  Christ  to  give  an  account  of  the 
deeds  done  in  the  body.     The  conditions  of  ac- 

3uittal  at  the  Judgment  were  conceived  by  the 
erusalem  CImrch  as  including  participation  in  the 
blessings  promised  exclusively  to  Jews  as  sons  of 
Abraham.  In  the  case  of  the  party  of  the  circum- 
cision, at  least,  it  was  the  belief  of  the  Jerusalem 
Church  that  believing  Jews  and  jjroselytes  alone 
were  to  be  acquitted  in  the  Day  of  Judgment. 
The  Pauline  position,  that  any  one  who  had  accepted 
Jesus  as  Christ  was  to  be  acquitted,  was  exposed 
to  certain  misapprehensions.  On  the  one  hand,  St. 
Paul  insisted  that  it  was  not  necessary  for  those 
who  believed  in  Jesus  as  Christ  to  be  subject  to  the 
Law  as  a  statutory  enactment ;  on  the  otlier  hand, 
he  was  aware  that  the  Christian  JifcM.is  f;u  enough 
from  being  in  absolute  conformii  y  w  iili  1  lie  will  of 
God.  How  then  could  belie\ei>  li<.|ie  In  lie  ac- 
quitted? His  reply  is  that  they  /.iimn  they  are  to 
be  acquitted  because  they  have  the  Holy  Spirit, 
the  first  instalment  of  the  heritage  of  salvation. 
His  answer  to  the  consequent  question  why  a  man 
who  no  longer  feared  condemnation  at  the  Judg- 
ment of  God  should  be  good,  constitutes  one  of  the 
most  vital  of  his  ethical  teachings  It  amounts  to 
this :  Realize  in  conduct  the  moral  possibilities 
of  the  regenerate  self.  His  answer  to  the  more 
particular  question  as  to  what  should  happen  to 
erring  Christians  at  the  Judgment  is  equally  pro- 
found. In  1  Co  31"  he  argues  that  the  foundation 
of  faith  in  Jesus  Christ  must  always  abide,  but 
that  the  building  which  each  believer  erects  upon 
this  foundation  may  be  worthless.  His  figure 
clearly  teaches  that  the  Christian  is  subject  to  the 
Judgment  as  truly  as  any  one  else,  and  that  al- 
though he  will  be  given  the  body  of  the  resurrection 
and  the  other  blessings  of  salvation,  he  will  also 
sutler  certain  losses.  At  this  point,  therefore, 
there  is  to  be  seen  the  rudiments  of  a  logical 
doctrine  as  to  rewards  and  punishment  which  is 
far  enough  from  the  mechanical  expectation  of  the 
apocalypses.  And,  further,  it  must  be  added  that 
the  early  Church  believed  tliat  it  was  possible  even 
for  those  who,  so  far  as  could  be  judged  by  ordinary 
standards,  had  accepted  Jesus  as  Christ,  to  fall 
away  and  be  ultimately  lost.  Christians  were 
always  in  danger  of  committing  sins  which  at  the 
Judgment  would  shut  them  out  of  the  kingdom 
of  God  (Gal  5«,  1  Co  6"-  ">■ ",  Ro  13=  14=3).  it  js 
clear,  therefore,  from  such  teaching,  that  St.  Paul 
moved  over  into  the  moral  as  distinct  from  the 
purely  formal  field.  The  Judgment-day  is  some- 
thing other  than  the  time  of  registering  the  arbi- 
trary decrees  of  God,  and  becomes  the  time  when 
the  ultimate  destinies  of  men  are  determined  by 
their  actual  moral  conditions,  these  conditions  in- 
cluding, rather  than  being  supplanted  by,  faith  in 
Jesus. 


DAY  OF  JUDGMENT 


DAY  (THAT) 


i.  The  details  of  the  day  are  not  clearly  ■worked 
out  by  the  Apostles.  In  their  case,  as  in  that  of 
Jesus,  there  is  the  double  expectation  that  both 
God  and  Jesus  will  be  the  Judge.  In  the  Apostolic 
thought,  however,  the  recognition  of  Jesus  as 
Judge  (assisted,  as  has  already  been  pointed  out,  by 
the  saints,  1  Co  6=)  is  very  distinct.  He  is  to  sit 
upon  the  throne,  and  mankind  is  to  stand  before 
Him,  and  bow  to  Him,  and  be  subject  to  Him.  At 
the  same  time  the  correlation  between  His  position 
and  that  of  God  is  distinctly  made  (Ko  2"*).  He  is 
to  be  God's  agent,  and  at  '  the  end '  is  to  give  over 
the  kingdom  to  the  Father  (1  Co  15=*). 

5.  In  the  Apocalypse  there  are  two  Judgment- 
days  spoken  of.  The  first,  which  is  established  at 
the  appearance  of  Jesus,  is  confined  to  the  worldly 
powers,  and  Satan  is  then  bound  and  shut  up  in 
the  abyss  (Rev  20''').  Then  follows  the  reign  of 
Christ  on  earth  for  a  thousand  years,  which  is 
ushered  in  by  the  resurrection  of  the  martyrs 
(20*"*).  At  the  end  of  this  period  of  one  thousand 
years  the  great  day  of  God  (16")  comes,  in  wliicli 
all  those  believer's  who  sun-ive  and  the  members 
of  the  one  thousand  years'  kingdom  are  carried  up 
to  heaven,  and  all  the  dead  are  raised  to  stand 
before  the  Judgment-seat  of  God  (20'-  ").  Here 
again  there  must  be  a  distinction  drawn  between 
the  idea  of  the  ascension  from  Sheol  and  the  acqui- 
sition of  the  lx)dy  of  the  resurrection.  At  this 
final  Judgment  the  evi\  are  sent  to  the  lake  of 
fire  (21*),  where  tliey  continue  in  endless  misery. 
In  this  last  Judgment  it  may  be  noticed  also  that 
one's  future  is  determined  by  the  records  in  the 
books  of  the  Judge  (20i=-  "). 

6.  As  in  the  case  of  the  teaching  of  Jesus,  the 
award  at  the  Day  of  Judgment  for  the  wicked  is 
eternal  condemnation,  ■which  is  described  in  a 
variety  of  ways,  chief  among  which  are  '  destruc- 
tion,' '  fire,'  and  '  death,'  the  general  term  for 
such  misery  being  the  anthropomorphic  expression 
'  ■*vrath  of  God.'  For  believers  there  is,  on  the 
other  hand,  salvation  which,  in  the  resurrection  of 
the  body,  marks  the  completion  of  that  eternal  life 
already  begun  in  the  earthly  life  of  the  believer 
through  the  presence  of  the  Spirit  in  the  believer's 
heart. 

7.  It  is  improbable  that  the  Church  of  the  NT 
times  ever  ceased  to  think  of  the  Day  of  Judgment 
as  a  distinct  point  in  time,  and  of  the  coming  of 
Christ  as  a  definite  event  of  the  future  (Ac  24==,  Ru 
2').     See  Paeousia.     Such  late  books  as  Jude  and 

hatic  as  to  His  coming. 


2  Peter  are  particularly  eraph 
although   the  writer  of  2Pi 


r'eter  is  obviously  per- 
plexed at  the  delay  in  the  return  of  Jesus  (2  P  3*). 
8.  It  is  at  this  point,  however,  that  one  realizes 
more  clearly  than  ever  the  impossibility  of  treat- 
ing any  one  of  the  particular  elements  of  the 
Christian  eschatological  Messianic  hope  apart  from 
the  others.  The  reason  for  this  lies  in  the  origin 
of  the  hope.  In  so  far  as  it  is  not  the  outcome  of 
the  historical  facts  of  Jesus'  life,  death,  and  resur- 
rection, it  is  the  bequest  of  Judaism  to  the  Chris- 
tian Church.  As  such,  its  component  elements 
are  really  phases  of  one  hope,  and  are  so  inextric- 
ably combmed  as  to  make  it  almost  impossible  to 
separate  them.  The  Parousia,  the  Day  of  Christ, 
the  Day  of  Judgment,  the  resurrection  of  the 
dead,  are  all  alike  difterent  a-spects  of  the  same 
great  event  toward  which  the  whole  creation 
moves.     They  all  embody  the   fundamental    e\- 

Eectation  of  early  Christianity,  that  the  Christ  m  ho 
ad  been  cruciffed  would  shortly  return  to  cstalj- 
lish  His  Messianic  kingdoni.  In  sucli  an  estab- 
lishment there  was  involved  the  ])unishmenl  of  all 
those  who  were  the  enemies  of  God  and  of  His 
Christ,  as  ■well  as  the  rewarding  of  those  who  were 
His  loyal  subjects.  Its  terrors  were  as  far  .is  pos- 
sible from  being  figurative  to  the  early  Christians. 


From  the  time  of  Pentecost  onwards  men  were  first 
warned  of  the  approach  of  the  Judgment  ■which  all 
Jews  expected,  and  were  then  told  how  by  faith  in 
Jesus  as  Christ  and  Lord  they  might  gain  acquittal 
in  that  Judgment.  It  is  further  noteworthy  that 
in  all  matters  relating  to  the  future  condition  of 
mankind  and  the  method  of  escaping  punishment 
and  winning  salvation  at  the  Day  of  Judgment, 
all  the  Christian  writers  are  essentially  at  one. 
Differences  in  emphasis  and  methods  of  presenta- 
tion should  not  be  permitted  to  obscure  this  identity 
in  elementals. 

Such  an  expectation  embodies  both  permanent 
and  transitory  elements.  Those  are  transitory 
which  depend  upon  an  impossible  cosmology  and  a 
literal  monarchical  conception  of  God's  relation 
to  the  world.  Those  are  permanent  ■which  em- 
body the  immutable  laws  of  the  moral  world  and 
the  facts  of  the  historical  Jesus  (including  His 
resurrection).  To  distinguish  between  these  two 
groups  of  elements  is  not  difficult  for  the  historical 
student,  and  will  result  in  a  larger  appreciation  of 
the  fundamental  truth  of  an  apocalyptically  con- 
ceived Judgment-day.     See  also  Eschatology. 


Eschatologu  ' 
(Die  Predi.jl ' 
Ckristianitu). 
sperger  (Das  : 


LiTKRATfRE. — ^This  is  voluminous,  but  it  is  often  dogmatic 
and  apologetic  in  character.  The  unhistorical  method  of  treat- 
ment will  be  found  set  forth  in  all  the  old  treatises  on  theology. 
On  the  Day  of  Jahweh  sec  J.  >[.  P.  Smith,  '  The  Day  of  Yahweh,' 
AJTh,  1901,  p.  501  f.  Views  of  .Turtaism  may  be  found  in 
Bousset,  Kelig.  des  JutimtTtn.^,  -240,  24>; ;  Weber,  Jiid,  ThcoL- 
%  88 ;  Charles,  Crit.  Bht.  ;(  Eschat..lo,j<l ;  Volz,  Jiui.  Eschat- 
oloqie.    For  general  treatnunt  see  Weiidl,  Teaching  nf  Jems, 

"   '~   "    (  (Ae.vr;  Muirhead, 

\vssagen.  J.  Weiss 
rnle  (Beginnings  of 
-t.  IV.),  and  Balden- 
he  subject  from  the 
hin^'  concerniDg  His 
III  (Die  Paiilin.  Vor- 
Kennedy  (St.  Panrs 
Conceptions  of  the  Last  Thuigs),  Kabiseh  i  Esehalol.'des  Pattlus) 
discuss  the  teaching  of  St.  Paul  on  the  subject.  In  general  see 
Biblical  Theologies,  esp.  those  of  Beyschlag  and  Weiss,  and  art. 
■  •    Hastings'  DB.  SHAILER  MaTHEWS 


DAY  (THAT).— It  was  near  the  close  of  His 
ministry  that  the  Lord  began  to  speak  especially 
of  the  Last  Things.  At  an  early  stage  ■we  find  a 
reference  to  'that  day'  (Mt  7~).  The  hypocrites 
will  plead  in  vain,  in  /hat  day,  how  they  had  pro- 
fessed Christ.  The  day  is  the  Day  of  Judgment, 
the  day  of  the  sealing  of  citizensliip  in  the  King- 
dom of  heaven.  There  is  also  a  reference  to  '  that 
day '  in  the  Commission  to  the  Apostles.  It  will 
be  more  tolerable  for  Sodom  in  that  day  than  for  a 
city  that  will  not  receive  them  (Lk  10'=).  Here 
tlie  parallel  denunciation  in  the  First  Gospel  gives 
'in  the  day  of  judgment'  (Mt  10'=).  Thus  'that 
day '  is  a  plirase  to  denote  the  terrible  day  which 
is  ever  imminent,  the  day  of  Christ's  coming  to 
judge  the  world  and  inaugurate  His  universal 
reign.  But  among  His  last  words  the  Lord  in- 
cluded warnings  of  the  fate  of  Jerusalem  as  well 
as  of  the  doom  of  the  world.  These  messages 
about  the  end  of  the  city  and  the  end  of  the  world 
are  intertwined  in  the  Synoptic  records  of  the  close 
of  His  ministry.  Reasonable  care  should  not  fail 
to  disentangle  the  threads.  The  expression  'in 
that  day'  is  used,  for  insta.nce,  to  refer  quite 
plainly  to  the  fall  of  Jerusalem  (Lk  17^'  ;  in  Mk. 
and  Mt.  'those  days').  But  then  the  phrase  has 
its  usual  significant  euphemistic  use  for  the  day  of 
Christ's  coming  in  judgment  in  all  three  Gospels 
where  they  recount  the  Lord's  solemn  warnings  to 
be  ready  (Mt  24=«,  Mk  13^"-,  Lk  21**).  'That  day' 
is  in  the  foreknowledge  of  God  alone  ;  it  will  come 
on  the  whole  world  as  a  snare  to  the  unready.  It 
may  be  immediate  in  its  comiii<;  (Lk  12*"),  and  it 
^^•il\  be  quick  as  lightning  when  it  does  come  (Mt 
24-'').  Evidently  '  that  day '  is  an  epoch  ;  not  an 
era,  but  the  beginning  of  one  era  and  the  end  of 
another.     'That  day'  of  the  revelation  of  the  Son 


i 


DAYSPHING 


DEAD,  THE 


425 


of  Man  wUlbeassinlil.ii  iiii.l  rni:il  :i>  tlie  expeu- 
encesof  Noah  ami  ],ut  :qi|ir;iir,l  i,,  nuh  (Lk  17*'). 
As  the  end  of  tills  inusciil  :i'j.'  i>  iIm'  l)c,L;innlng  of 
the  reign  in  glory  of  (linst  ami  Hi-  ircltciiieil,  llie 
allusion  to  '  that  day '  at  the  i^ast  Supper  may 
be  understood  in  the  same  sense  as  hitlierto.  In 
'that  day'  the  Kingdom  shall  be  established,  and 
all  things  shall  he  new,  and  the  King  will  drink 
the  new  wine  first  again  in  'that  day"  (.Mk  14-', 
Mt26=»).  On  this  iiatlnlir  inomiM.  >.\'\\,r  Saxionr 
on  the  eve  of  His  crucilixidii  Iniiaus  ((iiiniiints  : 
'promisit  .  .  .  osfrndeti.^.  'I  Inn-rililnlrui  Imir  in 
qua  bihitin-  nani  iji-nrnitit,  rili.s,  ct  rnrncdcm  re- 
surrcctioiii-m  di.^-ri/iii/,iriiiii  Ejii^'  (v.  xxxiii.  1). 

St.  John's  refenncrs  (<i  -that  day '  are  to  an  era, 
however,  rather  than  to  an  epoch  (Jn  14="  16==- ="_). 
'  In  that  day '  the  disciples  shall  recognize  their 
Lord's  Divinity,  and  pray  to  the  Father  in  His 
name.  In  the  Fourth  Gospel,  therefore,  the  phrase 
describes  the  era  which  had  its  beginning  at 
Pentecost  when  the  Holy  Spirit  was  bestowed  so 
fully  upon  the  Church. 

LiTERATORE.— Creiuer,  Bibl.-The.ol.  Lex.  s.v.  mipic  ;  Hastings' 
Di',  art.   'Eschatology  of  the  NT';   Beyschlag,  NT  Theol.  i. 

"Off.  W.  B.  Frankland. 

DAYSPRING.— The  dawn  or  beginning  of  the 
day  ;_cf.  for  the  word  1  S  9=«,  Job  38'= ;  in  NT  only 
Lk  1'*  (ai/aTo\-q),  but  cf.  the  prophecy  quoted  Mt 
4'"  (0u)s  dv^TciXef  avToi!).  Zacharias  saw,  in  the  re- 
markable events  taking  place,  the  coming  of  the 
new  day  and  the  dawning  of  hope  for  Israel :  '  the 
Lord,  the  God  of  Israel,  hath  visited  and  wrought 
redemption  for  his  people'  (v.'"*);  'the  daj'spring 
from  on  high  shall  visit  us'  (KV  fut.  NIJ).  'Ava- 
riWciv  is  often  used  for  the  rising  of  the  sun  (Mt 
13«,  Mk  16=,  Ja  1")  and  stars  (Nu  '24",  2  I*  P"),  and 
dmroXri,  either  in  sing,  or  phir.  form,  for  the  East 
(Mt2'-  =  etc.).  In  Rev  1"  IG'-  -qMov  is  added,  and 
there _KV  substitutes  'sunri>iii.j  t.n  AV  'east.' 
In  LXX  dj'aToX^  occurs  fur  lli<-  i  i-iir:  n{  the  moon 
(Is  60").  Light  frequently -laii^l-  i-i  -alvationand 
deliverance  (Is  58'"  60',  ilal  1-,  Lk  2'-),  and  was 
specially  applied  to  the  Messiah,  cf.  .Jn  1"  etc.,  Eph 
S'-*  (see  Edersheim,  Life  and  rimes,  ii.  166).  For 
di/ttToXT)  ^^  lixl'ovs  in  Lk  1™  Vulg.  has  orinns  ex  alto. 

'Ef  lj\j/ovs,  'from  on  high,' presents  some  ilifhcnlty. 
as  dawn  does  not  come  from  on  hiuli  :  pnliaps  the 

ref.   to  a  bright  shining  star  is  m in   krrjiin- 

(Meyer);  '  He  is  the  Daystar  from  on  hiu'li,  lirim.'- 
ing  a  new  morning  to  those  who  sit  in  the  darkness 
and  death-shadows  of  the  world'  (Liddon,  Jininjt. 
Led.'  p.  248).  Godet  would  connect  these  words 
with  iTtiTKiferai.  (' it  is  from  tile  bosom  of  Divine 
mercy  that  this  star  comes  down,  and  it  does  not 
rise  upon  humanity  tintil  after  il  lias  descended 
and  has  been  made  man),  Imf  tlii-  >r,.ms  hardly 
necessary;  i^  litpovi  represents  'from  (Jod,'  and 
dxoToXT)  ^1  ii^ou!  is  simply  '  God's  Messiah '  (Dalman, 
The  Words  of  Jesus,  pp.  223,  224). 

A  different  translation  is  based  on  tlio  fact  tliat  ivi^-roxi  in 

LXX  stands  several  times  for  n-'i,  :i  '  -I i  '  n,  ■Ihmii-Ii,' i 

the  prophetic  names  of  the  .M(     i  .ii  i  i   i 

.ler  40 [33)15  Theod.).      fia   VA.y~ •ji', ,     ,i 

modern  authorities  arc  av,'aiii-i   ■     ,   I  i     :       .  h 

that  the  expression  rnul^viil     -I       it  i,  r     li;, 

equivalent  of  the  Hrl'.  rti  l;r i  ..  >      lim  ii 

seems  a  fatal  objcrli.:,  i|.   !   ■    -    :  n-  in 

the  passage  corri'spnua  c;,,  .;  .       ;,  '    .  ,       , !,(,.■ 

xatTtuBuvxi):  and  il  ^v       .  ,,  .        ,  I, 

111).    Bleekwishes  to.  .iiiilii,,,  II, ,  ,, 

aplay  of  words  on  the  spr.iuliii     lii,     i  i,      ■  i    , 

no  Hebrew  word  will  bear  thi-  1 1         ,   n  

near  identifying  this  Messiaiii ;,     ,,    , i 

light  when  it  renders  Is  42c  ill  I  i  ■!  !■  '  1  •  i  1  ■-  .i  1 
theLordbebeautifulini.l     1,1  ,1 

fiirU  heiy,;.     Ifthesniii ill      !•      ,,    .       ,,  i,,,,] 

lor  some  other  won  i ;     1    ; ,  -  ,  1     ,  .      , 

andinoneMS,  QiiiE,  f,,r  r,Ti  ■  nsm  ; '  il-  i"  1,  sr,  11,,  r,.„n,>  ,,i 
Godet  and  Plummer.  i«, /or  w;     11     ii,-v...... 


DEAD,  THE  (oi  veKpoi).—!.  The  reverence  and 
regard  due  from  the  living  to  the  dead,  according 
to  the  ideas  which  the  Jews  shared  with  other 
nations,  are  clearly  illustrated  in  the  Gospels.  All 
honour  is  paid  to  the  corpse  in  preparation  for 
burial:  it  is  anointed  with  spices  and  unguents 
(Mk  10',  Lk  23*  Jn  ig^";  cf.  what  Jesus  says  In 
Mk  H"*),  and  wrapped  in  fitting  cerements  (Mk 
15*'  etc.).  Reverent  burial  is  given,  the  funeral 
train  following  the  body  borne  uncoffined  upon  a 
bier  (Lk  7"''^).  The  omission  of  any  mention  of 
burial  in  tlie  case  of  Lazarus  in  the  parable  (Lk 
16"),  as  contrasted  with  the  case  of  the  rich  man, 
who  '  had  a  funeral,'  bespeaks  a  poor  abject.  The 
dead  are  bewailed  by  kinsfolk  (Jn  IP'- 33),  by 
sympathetic  neighbours,  and  by  liired  mourners 
(Mk  53',  Mt  9=3).  Jesus  in  the  noteworthy  saying 
in  Lk  9™  (=Mt  8==),  'Let  the  dead  bury  their 
dead,'  overrides  a  chief  charge  on  filial  attection, 
the  burial  of  a  father,  as  He  emphasizes  the  para- 
mount claims  of  discipleshii^.  Such  observances 
are  not  only  the  expression  of  natural  grief  ;  they 
involve  belief  in  the  continued  existence  of  the 
dead,  as  is  also  the  case  with  other  forms  of  duty 
to  the  dead  such  as  are  insisted  on  in  the  Talmud. 
E.g.  their  wishes  are  to  be  respected  and  fulfilled 
(Git.  14b),  they  are  free  from  all  obligation  (Shab. 
30a),  it  is  unlawful  to  speak  evil  of  them  (Beralch. 
19a) — cf.  the  familiar  proverb,  De  mortuis  nil  nisi 
bonum. 

2.  The  teaching  of  Jesus  concerning  the  dead. — 
Whatever  may  be  gathered  from  the  words  of 
Jesus  touching  the  state  of  the  dead  is  to  be 
regarded  in  the  light  of  the  current  Jewish  beliefs 
of  His  daj',  to  see  how  far  He  sanctions  .such 
beliefs,  and  in  what  respects  He  corrects  and 
modifies  them.  The  tenets  of  the  Sadducees, 
denying  the  resurrection,  future  retribution,  and 
indeed  any  continuance  of  personal  being  after 
death,  constituted  a  sectarian  opinion  from  the 
standpoint  of  later  Judaism.  The  Sadducees,  it  is 
true,  seemed  to  adhere  to  the  older  teaching  of  the 
OT,  wherein  for  the  most  part  nothing  is  allowed 
concerning  the  dead  (rcphctim)  but  a  thin,  shadowy 
existence  in  Sheol.  They  were,  however,  influenced 
in  this  respect  by  Hellenism  and  their  affectation 
of  culture  rather  than  by  zeal  for  the  earlier  Jewish 
faith  (S.liiirer,  HJP  II.  ii.  38f.).  The  common 
1  M'l  i.  'f ,  il  I  list  rated  in  the  later  literature  of  Judaism, 
was  virtually  that  of  the  Pharisees,  who  held  that 


Lat. 


the  soul  isimprrisliaMe,  that  rew.ar.I- 

nienls  follow   this   life    nndrr    Mic   ra 

infcfi),  that  f..r  tlie  wicknl    ihnr  i~  an  .•ti-nial   ini- 

prisonment,  but  for  the  ri-liteous  a  ivsunvetion  to 

eternal  life  (Jo.s.  7;/ ii.   8;   Ant.  xviii.  1).     This 

resurrection  is  connected  with   the  glory  of  the 

Messianic  kingdom. 

Jesus  definitely  repudiates  the  Sadducean  view 
(Mk  12=^-  ='),  and  endorses,  as  to  its  substance,  that 
of  the  Pharisi'es.  (For  a  .lillerent  view,  cf.  E. 
Wliite,  Life  il,  Christ,  rli.  16).  In  His  dealing 
with  the  Sadducees  ami  their  catch-question  on 
this  sulijert  (Mk  12»'-='  and  parallels),  He  teaches 
iliiit  I  he  dead  are  really  alive  and  in  a  state  of 
eeiiseiiiii~Me-s.  So  also  lu  the  parable  of  the  Rich 
Man  ami  Lazarus  (Lk  16"»f-),  ^vith  a  sharp  distinc- 
tion between  experiences  of  misery  and  bliss  as 
entered  upon  by  souls  after  death.  This  parable 
also  favours  the  belief  in  the  soul's  direct  and 
immediate  entrance  upon  this  new  conscious  state, 
a-  .1..  unr  Lords  words  in  Lk  23-'3  'To-day  shalt 
:li'iii  lie  \\itli  lue  in  paradise.'  We  are  not, 
li.i\\e\er.   I,,  allow    a,  literal  interpretation  of  His 

I  -it  I  eel  nil  ej    I  Ih>    -1  al  e    nl     I  lie   .ji   ;n|.         'I'ie'     r    \|e  e-sioH 
■Al.lal.aill'^l.uM.lii.ee/.,  I-  el    II. .  ilev  lealle   lallie  tO 

US,  though  suitable  and  si,i;nilicaiiL  lo  the  men  of 


DEAD,  THE 


DEAF  AND  DU:MB 


our  Lord's  day.  Similarly  with  the  other  pictorial 
elements ;  they  are  only  of  the  same  order  as  the 
imagery  with  whicli  other  faiths  have  invested 
ideas  concerning  the  hereafter.  The  matter  of 
abiding  importance  here  is  the  teaching  that  at 
death  a  judgment  already  ta,kes  effect,  the  portion 
of  the  soul  in  the  after  life  being  determined  with 
direct  reference  to  the  life  lived  in  the  present 
world,  with  rosuks  that  may  l>e  in  startling  con- 
trast to  the  i.'-tiii;.t:i~  "f  a  man  and  his  condition 
formed  by  lii^  i-lluw-iin  u  hmf.  This  mnfeption 
seems  to  find  fxpn'~-i'in  in  a  symbol  fuuml  on  early 
Christian  tombs  in  Phrygia,  viz.  an  open  book  or 
set  of  tabdlcE,  which  Ramsay  explains  as  '  indicat- 
ing death  and  the  judgment  of  God  after  death : 
the  tablets  are  open  to  indicate  that  the  process  of 
judgment  has  begun'  (see  art.  in  Expositor,  March 
1905,  p.  223). 

Such  a  representation  of  the  condition  of  the 
dead  in  Hades  is  not,  however,  to  be  understood 
as  excluding  a  remoter  crisis  in  the  soul's  history, 
such  as  is  suggested  by  the  prominent  NT  concep- 
tion of  '  the  judgment '  and  '  the  day  of  judgment.' 
As  Weiss  says,  the  retribution  thus  set  forth  as 
befalling  a  soul  in  Hades  '  does  not  exclude  an 
ultimate  decision  as  to  its  final  fate'  (T/ieol.  of 
NT,  i.  p.  156 note,  Eng.  tr.).  'Abraham's  bosom' 
or  '  Paradise,"  moreover,  does  not  denote  a  final 
and  'perfect  consummation  and  bliss,'  in  the  eseha- 
tological  views  of  the  Jews  in  the  time  of  Christ. 
The  resurrection  lies  beyond.  Jesus  in  His  en- 
counter w^th  the  Sadducees  uses  the  language  of 
His  time,  and  speaks  of  the  resurrection  as  a 
transition  and  crisis  awaiting  the  dead  (ilk  12-^, 
Mt  22*').  The  wording  of  the  Lukan  account 
(20^)  is  particularly  noticeable — oi  5e  Koraf  luff^i/T-es 
ToO  aiCjvo^  iKeivov  tvx^'lv  k.  ttjs  dfatrrcttrews  rijs  eK 
veKpuv.  There  is  an  '  age  to  come '  (rather  than 
'world,'  see  Dalman,  Wortc  Jesu,  Eng.  tr.  p.  153), 
which  is  to  be  attained  by  those  that  shall  have 
been  deemed  worthy  of  it,  an  age  evidently  to  be 
thought  of  as  ushered  in  by  the  resurrection  from 
among  the  dead.  That  age  (  =  'the  kingdom' 
elsewhere),  embodying  the  highest  hopes  of  the 
Jews  for  the  hereafter,  answers  to  all  the  highest 
conceptions  as  to  human  destiny  found  amongst 
people  of  other  faiths.  And  evidently  it  is  not 
immediately  attained  at  death,  according  to  the 
language  of  Jesus.  If,  then,  an  accumulation  of 
weighty  considerations  seems  to  some  to  support 
the  doctrine  of  an  intermediate  state  for  those  who 
have  passed  from  this  life  —  a  doctrine  already 
familiar  to  the  Jews  in  our  Lord's  time  (see  Sal- 
mond,  Chr.  Doct.  of  Immortan/;/,  p.  345 f.)— the 
teacliin;,'  of  tin-  (;.p~i.ol-  (■iIIt^  nn  d.-linite  opposi- 
tion. A  >t:iti',  /.  -.  II"'  ~iiiipl\-  .if  MiLCue  gloom  or 
attennatr.l  ln-in..  liut  "i  \\'.\'\  riin-riou.sness ;  for 
the  bU's-od  dead  'a  n.ii.Utii.ii  in  t.'llowship  with 
God,  containing  in  it.self  the  germ  of  an  everlasting 
heavenly  life  towards  which  it  tends'  (Wendt,  Lehrc 
Jesu,  Eng.  tr.  i.  p.  223),  with  progress  and  j;rowth 
from  more  to  more  ;  and  in  the  case  of  others,  a 
state  aflbrding  room  for  the  hope  that  there  a 
solution  is  to  be  found  for  a  multitude  of  otherwise 
inscrutable  life  problems  in  regard  to  man's  salva- 
tion. Such  comfortable  words  as  Jn  H--^!?-*  do 
not  conflict  with  this  conception  as  regards  the 
state  of  the  blessed  dead,  and  tliey  are  to  be 
thought  of  as  being  'with  Christ'  in  a  manner 
which  is  '  very  far  better '  (Ph  l-^)  than  what  may 
be  linown  in  the  present  life. 

Salmond  (op.  cit.  ch.  5),  .-ir^iin^  on  the  whole  against  the 
doctrine  olan  intermediate  state,  relies  mainly  on  the  (act  that 
no  positive  doctrine  of  this  kind  is  found  in  Christ's  words,  and 
observes  that  towards  this  subject  'His  attitude  is  one  of 
significant  reserve';  but  this  ar<;uinentum  e  siletitio  of  itself 
tells  just  as  much  one  way  as  the  other.  Those  who  mainuin 
that  death  brin^  irrevocable  doom  to  all  and  admits  imme- 
diately to  full  and  final  destiny,  are  hard  pressed  by  manifold 


ilitfieulties.  What  expedients  they  are  driven  to  in  order  to 
mitigate  these  are  ithistrated,  f.tj.,  in  Randies'  After  Death. 
The  author  ea*rtrly  ur:>'es  liow  much  is  possible  in  the  way  of 
repentance  and  pard'>ii  Lnen  in  articuto  mortis.  'After  all 
intercourse  between  the  dyin'_r  and  their  friends  has  ceased,  a 
saving  work  of  God  proceeds' ;  '  repentance  and  faith,  pardon 
and  sanctification,  may  proceed  with  speed  and  power  such  as 
were  never  evinced  in  previous  years'  (p.  250 f.).  Greatly  to 
the  credit  of  his  heart,  in  anxiously  maintaining  his  position  he 
also  advances  considerations  which  lead,  he  thinks,  to  the  con- 
clusion that '  the  proportion  of  the  finally  lost  to  the  saved  will 
be  about  as  the  proportion  of  the  criminal  part  of  England's 
population  to  all  the  rest '  (p.  244  f.)  !  The  consideration  of  the 
solemn  subject  of  final  destiny  lies  beyond  the  scope  of  this 

3.  Christ's  figurative  use  of  the  term  '  dead.' — 
The  use  of  the  term  as  descriptive  of  a  certain 
s|iiritual  condition,  unperceiving,  unresponsive,  is 
illustrated  in  the  saying  of  Lk  9"",  quoted  above. 
In  Lk  15-^  it  occurs  as  tantamount  to  '  lost.'  The 
dead  spoken  of  in  Jn  5-'"-'',  to  whom  the  Son  gives 
eternal  life,  are  so  described  in  virtue  of  their  con- 
dition prior  to  their  believing  on  Him. 

LrrERiTi-RE.  —  .\rtt.   'Eschatology'    and    'Resurrection'    in 


Hastings'  DB;  '  Eschatologj' '  and  'Dead*  in  Encyc.  Bibl.\ 
'Duty  to  the  Dead'  in  Jewish  Encyc;  Schurer,  HJP  (as 
quoted);  Weiss,  Bib.  Theol.  of  ST,  Eng.  tr.  in  the  relativ  "" 
We    "    ■"      •  -  '         "       - 


^endt,  Teaching  of  Jesus,  Eng.  tr.  in  the  relative  55:  Stevens, 
Theol.  of  ST,  p.  166 ;  Salmond,  Christian  Doctrine  of  Immor- 
tality ;  Drummond,  The  Jewish  Messiah  ;  Stanton,  The  Jewish 
and  the  Christian  Messiah ;  Luckock,  After  Death ;  Randies, 
A/ter  Death ;  Beet,  Last  Thinys ;  White,  Life  in  Christ. 

J.  S.  Clemens. 

DEAF  AKD  DUMB.— 1.  Link  between  deafness 
and  dumbness. — (a)  It  appears  impossible  to  sepa- 
rate these  two  maladies  of  deafness  and  dumbness, 
whether  one  approaches  them  from  the  standpoint 
either  of  the  scientist  or  of  the  student.  The 
consequence  of  the  former  disease  is  that  the  sense 
of  hearing  is  diminished  or  abolished ;  the  conse- 
quence of  the  latter  is  that  the  power  of  articulat- 
ing sounds  is  defective  or  impossible.  There  is, 
indeed,  no  phj-siological  connexion  between  the 
maladies ;  but  the  acute  stage  of  either  leaves  the 
patient  now  with  a  correspondent  incapacity  of 
hearing,  now  with  a  correspondent  incapacity  for 
speaking.  The  acutest  form  of  these  maladies  is 
seen  when  congenital ;  then  the  link  is  observed  at 
its  closest :  the  maladies,  so  to  speak,  draw  into 
one,  and  the  remedies  which  surgery  or  treatment, 
and  the  artificial  aids  of  hand,  or  lip,  or  sign 
language  can  attbrd,  are  invariably  applied  as  if 
these  maladies  had  some  common  source  and  a 
unity  of  their  own. 

(6)  This  conception  of  an  inherent  unity  between 
deafness  and  dumbness  is  curiously  illustrated  by 
the  Greek  adjective  with  which  this  article  is 
chiefly  concerned.  Kuif>6s  is  derived  from  tlie  root 
KOTT,  i.e.  that  which  is  smitten,  crushed,  or  blunted, 
opposed  to  oii's,  'sharp,'  'keen.'  Thus  Kuip6s  is 
used  in  Homer  of  a  blunt  weapon,*  of  the  dumb 
earth  t  [cp.  Lat.  bnita  tellies],  and,  with  a  wonder- 
ful picturesqueness,  of  the  noiselessness  of  a  wave 
before  it  crashes  upon  the  shingle,  t  It  is  thus 
only  by  a  slight  metaphorical  turn  that  the  adjec- 
tive stands  to  describe  the  impairment  or  loss  of 
powers  of  the  mind  or  body ;  and  so  of  vision,  of 
hearing,  and  articulating. 

2.  References  in  the  Gospels: — In  the  Gospels 
Ku<p6s  (the  word  is  not  found  outside  them  in  the 
NT)  is  applied  only  to  the  two  maladies  under 
discussion,  i.e.  to  describe  the  dwarfed  and  blunted 
powers  of  the  deaf  and  dumb.  Indeed,  as  it  fur- 
nishes a  common  description  of  both  maladies,  a 
less  careful  student  would  be  in  danger,  at  least  in 
the  chief  characteristic  passage  (Mk  7^''"),  of  mis- 
rendering,  or  rather  misapplying,  the  adjective, 
which  plainly  signifies  'deaf.'  But  later  in  the 
same  Gospel  (9^)  Koi(j>6i  probably  means  'dumb.' 
This  free  transference  of  the  adjective  by  the  same 
writer,  as  descriptive  now  of  the  one  malady  and 
now  of  the  other,  is  clearly  not  due  to  any  scientific 


DEAF  AND  DUMB 


DEATH 


427 


for  him  that  it  connoted  the  crushing,  maiming  char- 


acter of  botli  diseases. 
even  St.  Lulie  the  ))I 
in  which  the  wnrcl  <■( 
application  (1--  II" 
St.  Matthew  a-.iiu  u 
as  applicable  tu  dcui 
It  IS,  of  course,  n 
healing  that  the  interest  of  the  question  turn: 
glance  will  be  s\iflicient  at  the  striking  passage  in 
the  opening  of  St.  Luke's  Gospel  (P"--)  in  which 
the  announcement  of  the  birth  of  the  Baptist  was 
made  to  the  aged  Zacharias.  It  is  significant  to 
observe  that  Zacharias  was  on  this  occasion  the 
victim  not  merely  of  lack  of  faith  in  the  angel's 
but  of  real  alarm  at  the  vision.     The 


It  is  curious  to  note  that 
:-iM.ii,  in  tlio  three  passages 

.,  11-^-.  1,  ,■,/,;  in  this  double 

"f  deafness). 

rr  I.]:,    -i.ii  indifferently 
ai  ;  ui  Juiulmess  (933). 
ly  on  our  Lord's  works  of 
A 


speechlessness.  Its  infliction  was  indeed  pro- 
nounced by  Gabriel,  but  it  may  well  be  supposed 
that  it  was  brought  about  by  natural  causes. 
There  are  many  instances  in  which  sudden 
emotion  has  brought  on  deafness  or  dumbness, 
and,  strangely  enough,  there  are  instances  on 
record  in  which  a  sudden  emotion,  like  terror,  has 
led  to  the  restoration  of  lo.st  powers  of  this  char- 
acter. Tlie  medical  faculty  always  regard  hope- 
fully patients  who  have  become  suddenly  deaf  or 
dumb  from  tliese  instantaneous  causes,  and  it  may 
be  assumed  tliat  neither  Zacharias  himself  nor  his 
friends  regarded  the  visitation  as  permanent,  apart 
from  Gabriel's  consoling  limitation  of  its  conse- 
quences. 

Two  miracles  recorded  by  St.  Mark  have  sug- 
gestions about  the  deaf  and  dumb  which  are  full  of 
interest,  and  to  which  only  inadequate  commentary 
is  possible  within  the  space  of  this  article.  The 
former  is  that  wrought  by  the  Lord,  on  tlie  edge  of 
the  Holy  Land,  upon  an  unnamed  sufferer  (Mk 
731-").  He  is  described  as  deaf,  and  as  having  an 
impediment  in  his  speech.  The  strange  term  *  here 
employed  (v.^-),  which  does  not  occur  elsewhere 
in  NT  and  is  found  only  once  in  LXX  (Is  35^},  indi- 
cates at  once  the  closeness  of  link  between  the  two 
maladies  which  has  been  already  emphasized,  and 
also  declares  that  the  man  was  not  so  dumb  as  he 
was  deaf.  He  spoke,  but  only  with  difficulty ;  a 
trial,  no  doubt,  to  others  as  to  himself.  In  this 
narrative,  given  by  St.  INIark  with  such  extra- 
ordinary vividness  of  detail, t — the  taking  aside, 
the  mysterious  remedies  applied,  the  sigh,  the  word 
spoken,  not  of  magic  but  of  power.J — in  all  these 
we  see  the  Divine  figure  of  the  Sou  of  Man  as 
traced  by  St.  Mark,  in  His  compassion  for  suffer- 
ing humanity,  in  His  teaching  as  significant  by 
action  as  by  word,  in  His  sublime  confidence  that 
He  had  that  to  give,  for  which  He  looked  not 
in  vain  from  heaven.  St.  Mark  puts  in  simple, 
unscientific  terms  the  record  of  the  cure.  'The 
sufferer's  ears  were  opened,  his  tongue  was  no 
longer  a  prisoner,  speech  came  back  orderly  and 
intelligible  to  those  around. 

The  other  miracle,  also  recorded  by  St.  Mark 
(9ii-89)_  jg  upon  o„g  -whose  dumbness  was  linked 
with  demoniacal  possession.  An  examination  of 
the  passage  shows  how  the  case  had  baffled 
Christ's  disciples.  The  father  of  the  possessed 
felt  that  he  had  in  the  Great  Teacher  his  final 
resort.  Our  Lord's  question  elicited  the  reply 
that  the  malady,  ag<;ravated  by  demoniacal  suu 
gestion,  was  congenital.  The  man's  dumbn.-- 
was  of  the  acutest  form.     The  narrative   of  tin- 


.  iv.  [1890] 
to  the  mar 


miracle  is  not  out  of  line  with  the  experience  of 
the  medical  faculty.  It  is  not  only  that  deafness 
and  dumbness  are  allied,  but  the  patient  at  his 
worst  and  unhappiest  suffers  some  form  of  de- 
mentia or  idioc3'.  With  the  former  instance,  which 
lacked  the  distressing  epileptic  symptoms,  our 
Lord  dealt  directly.  In  the  latter  He  faces  an 
evil,  hostile  power,  '  Thou  speechless  *  and  dumb 
spirit,  come  out  of  him,  and  enter  no  more  into 
him.'  The  former  cure  was  calmly,  quietly 
brought  about.  This  was  accompanied  by  awful 
convulsions.  But  the  issue  in  both  was  the  same, 
neither  physical  defects  nor  demoniacal  agency 
resisted  the  word  of  pity  and  of  power. 

It  is  to  be  observed  that  none  of  our  Lord's 
miracles  excited  such  interest  or  won  such  ad- 
miration as  those  wrought  upon  the  deaf  and 
dumb.  This  would  answer  to  common  experience. 
The  restoration  of  .<iigbt  to  the  blind,  for  it  is  none 
otherlliaii  (his^liirh  ^|l^l■ial  treatment  in  Germany 
seems  now  ,iihl  :iu:iiii  to  liave  brought  about,  and 
of  whirli  .,iii.  iiiai wlli)\is  instance  is  known  to  the 
present  '.vi  idr,  wuuld  not  cause  such  astonishment 
as  the  recovery  of  a  deaf  or  dumb  friend.  Blind- 
ness does  not  interrupt  personal  relationship  as 
deafness  and  dumbness  do,  and,  the  moment  hear- 
ing and  speech  are  recovered,  the  results  and 
consequences  are  communicable  to  others.  It  is 
no  wonder,  therefore,  that  the  astonishment  of  the 
multitude  passed  into  praise.  Its  verdict  was, 
'  He  hath  done  all  things  well '  (Mk  7^'). 

3.  Spiritual  applications  of  deafness  and  dumb- 
ness.— The  senses  of  which  these  human  bodies  of 
ours  stand  possessed  are  so  wondrous  in  their 
character  and  operations,  that  one  would  expect 
to  find  in  Holy  Scripture  lessons  drawn  from 
them  of  great  spiritual  import.  And  so  it  is. 
The  open  eye,  clear,  candid,  trustful,  is  a  figure 
of  faith  throughout  both  Testaments  (Ps  llQ's  121i, 
Pr  20>=,  Mk  81",  Jn  12^»,  Ro  IP).  With  equal  force 
the  open  ear  is  significant  of  obedience.  Students 
of  the  Psalter  and  of  the  Prophets  will  bear  in 
mind  the  denunciations  poured,  both  for  spiritual 
deafness  and  dumbness,  upon  a  people  which  re- 
fused to  listen  to  the  voice  of  Jehovah,  and  which 
was  silent  when  the  Divine  Name  and  His  praise 
were  concerned  (Ps  81"  etc..  Is  6'").  On  the  other 
hand,  again,  through  both  Testaments,  from 
Samuel  to  St  John  the  Divine,  a  commendation 
and  blessing  has  ever  attended  the  ear  willing  to 
receive,  the  lips  open  to  prayer  and  to  praise.  It 
is  in  and  through  the  combination  of  these  that 
the  message  of  the  Gospel  can  be  disseminated  (Ko 
10^°- '").  And  so  of  all  the  spiritual  gifts,  most 
dear  to  Apostolic  men  was  Trapp-qirla  (Ei)h  6™), 
born  of  the  courage  of  conviction,  and  marking  a 
min<l  and  temper  capable  of  standing  at  the  last 
before  the  Son  of  Man.  B.  Whitefooed. 

DEATH. — It  belong.s  to  the  profoundly  spiritual 
character  of  our  Lord's  thinking  that  He  says  com- 
paratively little  on  the  subject  of  physical  death. 
His  attitude  towards  it  is  indicated  in  the  words, 
'She  is  not  dead  but  sleepeth'  (Mt  9^6 =Mk  S^, 
Lk  8*-).  He  recognized  that  man's  true  being  was 
something  apart  from  the  mere  bndily  existence, 
and  death  thus  rcsdlvr.l  il  .If  inl..  a  natural  inci- 
dent, analogous  to  slri'|i,  whirh  luoke  the  con- 
tinuity of  life  only  in  ^reinin-.  The  idea  is 
pifscnticl  more  definitely  in  the  charge  to  the 
.li-ip|..-.  Fear  not  them  that  kill  the  body,  and 
:iii''i  ill :ii  have  no  more  that  they  can  do,'  etc. 
(I.k  l_"  Mt  10=*),  where  it  is  expressly  declared 
that  life  resides  in  the  soul,  over  which  God  alone 
has  power.  The  accident  of  death,  of  the  separa- 
tion of  the  soul  from  its  material  body,  can  make 
little  difference  to  the  essential  man. 

'  The  rarer  word  iA«Ao»  is  used  in  vv.l"-=5. 


428 


DEATH 


DEATH 


The  three  recorded  miracles  of  raising  from  tlie 
dead  are,  in  the  last  resort,  concrete  illustrations 
of  this  side  of  our  Lord's  teaching.  The  Johannine 
account  of  the  raising  of  Lazanrs  is  indeed  bound 
up  with  a  more  complex  theological  doctrine  ;  but 
the  Synoptic  miracles,  in  so  far  as  they  are  more 
than  works  of  compassion  or  exhibitions  of  Divine 

Sower,  are  indicative  of  the  transient  nature  of 
eath.  Jesus  awakens  the  daughter  of  Jairus  and 
the  youth  of  Nain  as  if  from  ordinary  sleep.  Tlie 
life  which  to  outward  appearance  liad  ceased,  had 
only  been  withdrawn  from  the  body,  and  could  be 
reunited  with  it  at  the  Di\ine  word. 

Attempts  have  been  made  to  connect  these 
miracles  and  tlie  whole  conception  of  death  as 
.sleep,  with  the  contemporary  Jewish  belief  that 
for  three  days  the  soul  still  lingered  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood of  the  dead  body.  The  earliest  stage  of 
death  might  therefore  be  regarded  as  a  condition 
of  trance  or  slumber  from  which  the  spirit  could 
yet  be  recalled.  It  is  in  view,  probably,  of  this 
belief  that  St.  John  emphasizes  the  'four  days' 
that  had  elapsed  since  the  death  of  Lazarus,  whose 
soul  must  thus  have  finally  departed  from  his  body 
when  Jesus  revived  him.  But  we  have  no  indica- 
tion that  our  Lord  Himself  took  any  account  of 
the  popular  superstition,  much  less  that  He  was 
influenced  by  it.  His  conception  of  death  as  a 
passing  sleep  was  derived  solely  from  His  certainty 
that  man,  being  a  child  of  God,  was  destined  to  an 
immortal  life.  Abraham,  Isaac,  and  Jacob  cannot 
be  permanently  dead,  for  God  is  not  the  God  of 
the  dead  but  of  the  living  (Mt  22"  =  Mk  12=«).  In 
virtue  of  their  relation  to  God  they  must  have 
passed  into  a  more  perfect  life  through  apjiarent 
death. 

The  traditional  view  of  death  as  something  evil 
and  unnatural  liad  therefore  no  place  in  the 
thought  of  Jesus.  He  nowhere  suggests  the  idea 
which  St.  Paul  took  over  from  the  OT  and  elabor- 
ated in  his  theology,  that  death  is  the  punishment 
of  sin.  This  prevailing  Jewish  belief  is  indeed  ex- 
pressly contradicted  in  the  words  concerning  the 
slaughtered  Galilaeans  and  the  eii;hteen  on  wliom 
the  tower  of  Siloam  fell  (Lk  13''^).  Jesus  there 
insists  that  death,  even  when  it  comes  prema- 
turely and  violently,  is  not  to  be  regarded  as  a 
Divine  judgment.  Sin  is  punished,  not  l)y  physical 
deatli  in  tliis  world,  but  by  a  spiritual  deatli  here- 
after. This  is  doubtless  the  true  interpretation  of 
tlie  warning,  'Except  ye  repent,  ye  .shall  all  likewise 
perish.'  Destruction  is  in  store  for  all  sinners ; 
and  the  punishment  cannot  therefore  consist  in 
death  by  violence,  which  falls  on  few.  Much  less 
can  it  consist  in  natural  death,  from  which  the 
good  can  escape  no  more  than  the  wcked. 

While  thus  regarding  death  as  nothing  but  one 
of  the  incidents  in  man's  earthly  existence,  our 
Lord  anticipates  a  time  when  it  will  be  done  away. 
In  the  perfected  Messianic  kingdom  '  they  cannot 
die  any  more'  (Lk  20^).  Tliose  who  survive  until 
the  Son  of  man  returns  in  glory  '  will  not  taste  of 
death'  (Mt  16^),  since  they  will  have  entered  on 
the  new  age  in  which  it  is  abolished.  Even  in  such 
passages,  however,  it  is  not  suggested  that  death 
IS  an  evil.  The  idea  is  rather  tliat  it  forms  part  of 
a  lower,  imperfect  order  of  things,  and  that  this 
will  give  place  entirely  to  a  higher.  Those  wlio 
inherit  the  kingdom  cannot  die,  '  because  they 
are  equal  unto  the  angels'  (Lk  20^"),  and  have  so 
entered  on  another  condition,  governed  by  different 
laws.  The  cessation  of  death  is  conjoined  witli 
that  of  marriage  (vv.^-  ^^).  As  the  marriage  rela- 
tion is  natural  .and  necessary  to  man's  earthly 
state,  but  has  no  place  in  the  life  of  higher  spirits, 
so  with  death. 

Jesus,  it  is  thus  evident,  has  broken  away  from 
the  Jewish   concejition,   according   to   wliich    the 


death  of  the  body  possessed  a  roligious  signilicaucu 
as  the  eft'ect  of  sin.  His  own  idea  of  its  spiritual 
import  is  of  an  altogether  different  nature,  and  can 
be  gathered  with  sufficient  clearness  from  certain 
explicit  sayings.  (1)  The  mllingness  to  endure 
death  for  His  sake  is  the  supreme  test  of  faith  (cf. 
'Can  ye  drink  of  the  cup  that  I  shall  drink  of?'  etc. 
[.Mt  20^  =  Mk  1(F];  'If  a  man  hate  not  .  .  .  his 
own  life  also,'  etc.  [Lk  U'^']).  (2)  Death  is  the  fixed 
limit  appointed  by  God  to  all  earthly  pleasures 
and  activities.  The  thought  of  it  ought  therefore 
to  guard  us  against  over-anxiety  about  the  things 
of  this  world,  and  to  keep  us  always  watchful,  and 
mindful  of  the  true  issues  of  life  ('This  night  thy 
soul  shall  be  required  of  thee '  [Lk  12^] ;  parable 
of  Rich  Man  and  Lazarus  [Lk  le**"-])-  (3)  Above 
all,  death  marks  the  beginning  of  the  true  and 
eternal  life  with  God.  This  higher  life  can  be 
obtained  only  by  sacrificing  the  lower,  and  sur- 
rendering it  altogether,  if  need  be,  at  the  call  of 
Christ  ('  He  that  loseth  his  life  for  my  sake  shall 
find  it'  [Mt  10'i'  =  16=5,  Mk  8»  Lk  9^]). 

In  several  Synoptic  passages  Jesus  speaks  of  a 
death  which  is  spiritual  rather  than  physical.  He 
recognizes  that  the  mass  of  men  are  in  a  condition 
of  moral  apathy  and  estrangement  from  God,  and 
out  of  this  '  death '  He  seeks  to  deliver  them.  His 
message  to  John  the  Baptist,  '  The  dead  are  raised 
up'  (Mt  lP  =  Lk  7~),  would  seem,  in  the  light  of 
the  context,  to  bear  this  reference,  as  also  the 
cliarge  to  the  disciples,  '  Raise  the  dead '  (Mt  10*). 
The  same  thought  is  expressed  more  unmistakably 
in  the  saying,  'Let  the  dead  bury  their  dead'  (Mt 
8-'  =  Lk  9™),  and  in  the  words  of  the  parable,  '"This 
my  son  was  dead  and  is  alive  again'  (Lk  15^^*). 
Such  allusions  are  not  to  be  explained  as  simply 
figurative.  As  'life,'  to  the  mind  of  Jesus,  consists 
in  moral  obedience  and  communion  with  God,  so 
in  the  opposite'  condition  He  perceives  the  true 
death.  It  involves  that  '  destruction  both  of  soul 
and  body'  which  is  far  more  to  be  feared  than 
mere  bodily  deatli. 

The  view  represented  by  the  Fourth  Gospel 
gives  a  further  development  to  this  aspect  of  our 
Lord's  teaching.  Deatn  as  conceived  by  St.  John 
is  something  wholly  spiritual.  The  idea  is  en- 
forced in  its  full  extent  that  physical  death  is  only 
a  '  taking  rest  in  sleep,'  and  in  no  wise  affects  the 
real  life  (Jn  ll'^""").  Lazarus,  although  he  lias 
lain  four  days  in  the  tomb,  has  never  trulj'  died  ; 
for  '  he  that  believeth  in  me,  when  he  is  dead,  con- 
tinues to  live'  (ll-^-^*).  The  miracle  by  which  he 
is  '  awakened  out  of  sleep'  is  meant  to  show  forth, 
under  the  forms  of  sense,  the  inward  and  spiritual 
work  of  Jesus.  He  is  'the  resurrection  and  the 
life.'  He  has  come  to  raise  men  out  of  the  state  of 
death  in  which  they  find  themselves,  and  to  make 
them  inheritors,  even  now,  of  the  life  of  God. 

To  understand  the  Evangelist's  conception,  we 
have  to  remember  that  here  as  elsewhere  he 
converts  into  present  reality  what  is  future  and 
apocalyptic  in  the  Synoptic  teaching.  Jesus  had 
spoken  of  life  as  a  reward  laid  up  in  '  the  world  to 
come,'  and  h.ad  contrasted  it  with  the  'casting 
out'  or  'destruction'  (diruXcio)  which  is  reserved 
for  the  wicked.  These  ideas  reappear  in  the 
Fourth  Gospel,  divested  of  their  pictorial,  eschato- 
logical  form.  Life  is  a  spiritual  possession  here 
and  now,  and  has  its  counterpart  in  '  death,'  which 
is  likemse  realized  in  the  present  world.  St.  John, 
indeed,  contemplates  a  future  in  which  the  life, 
and  by  implication  the  death,  will  become  com- 
plete and  final  (6^'-  **■  ^) ;  but  they  will  continue 
the  same  in  essence  as  they  already  are  on  earth. 

Death  is  thus  regarded  not  a.s  a  .single  incident 
but  as  a  condition,  in  which  the  soul  remains  until, 
through  the  power  of  Christ,  it  pa.«ses  into  the 
opposite  condition  of  life.     It  is  not,  however,  a 


DEATH  OF  CHRIST 


DEATH  OF  CHEI8T 


429 


state  of  moral  apathy  and  disobedience,  or  at 
least  does  not  primarily  bear  this  ethical  character. 
Life,  in  the  view  of  St.  John,  is  the  absolute, 
Divine  life,  in  which  man,  as  a  creature  of  earth, 
does  not  participate  (see  Life).  His  natural  state 
is  one  of  '  death,'  not  because  of  his  moral  sinful- 
ness, but  because  he  belongs  to  a  lower  world,  and 
the  life  he  possesses  is  therefore  relative  and  un- 
real. It  is  life  only  in  a  physical  sense,  and  is 
more  properly  described  as  'death.'  The  work  of 
Christ  is  to  deliver  men  from  the  state  of  priva- 
tion in  which  they  are  involved  by  their  earthly 
nature  (3'').  As  the  Word  made  flesh,  He  com- 
municates to  tliem  His  own  higher  essence,  and 
makes  possible  for  them  the  mysterious  transition 
'  from  death  unto  life '  (5-^). 

In  this  Johannine  doctrine  Greek-philosophical 
ideas,  transmitted  through  Philo,  have  blended 
with  the  original  teaching  of  Jesus  as  recorded  in 
the  Synoptics.  Tlie  simple  ethical  distinction  has 
become  a  distiiKlioii  ..f  two  kinds  of  being,— 
earthly  and  spiiihial,  |ilMii.,ni('nal  and  real.  Jesus 
'raises  the  dua.r  iu  tin'  mjuso  that  He  eftects  a 
miraculous  change  in  l.liu  very  constitution  of  man's 
nature.  At  the  same  time  the  etliical  idea,  while 
not  directly  emphasized,  is  everywhere  implied. 
It  is  assumed  that  the  state  of  exclusion  from  the 
true  life  is  also  a  state  of  moral  darkness,  into 
which  men  have  fallen  '  because  their  deeds  are 
evil '  (3'').  The  '  freedom '  which  Jesus  promises  is 
described  in  one  passage  (in  which,  however,  the 
borrowed  Pauline  ideas  are  imperfectly  assimilated) 
as  freedom  from  sin  (5^'"^^).  In  the  great  verse, 
'God  so  loved  the  world,'  etc.  (S'S),  the  ethical 
conception  almost  completely  overpowers  the  theo- 
logical. Men  were  '  perishing '  through  their 
estrangement  from  God,  and  from  this  death  God 
sought  to  deliver  them  by  His  love  revealed  in 
Christ. 

For  the  teaching  of  Jesus  in  regard  to  the 
significance  of  His  own  deatli  see  tlie  following 
article. 

Literature.— Cremer,  Lex.  s.v.  «i««To; ;  Titius,  Die  mutest. 
Lehre  von  dee  Seligkeit  (1895-1900),  esp.  i.  67-87,  iii.  17-31 ; 
Fries,  'Jesu  Vorstellungen  von  der  Auferstehung  der  Toten," 
ZSTW  (Dec.  1900);  Schrcnck,  Die  johannelsche  Ansch.  mm 
Leben  (1898).    See  also  the  literature  mentioned  in  art.  Life. 

E.  F.  Scott. 
DEATH  OP  CHRIST.-I.  In  the  GasPELS.— 
The  aim  of  the  present  article  is  to  examine  the 
place  of  the  de;ifh  of  Christ  in  the  moral  order 
of  the  world.  Wliat  is  the  moral  order  of  the 
world?  The  fiinstiun  \n:iy  !«■  .answered  as  follows  : 
— The  will  and  iiiii]i(isi:  i>t  (Jod  are  in  the  way 
of   coming  to  realization  in   the  individual  and 


social  life  and  destiny  of  humanity.  They  are  still 
very  far  from  having  attained  to  universal  realiza- 
tion, but  they  are  destined  to  reach  it  in  the  per- 
fected kingdom  of  God.  This  is  ^^■hat  is  here 
understood  as  the  moral  order  of  the  world.  It 
began  to  exist  and  to  be  evolved  on  the  earth 
with  man's  appearance  as  a  being  with  a  moral 
nature  and  created  for  a  moral  destiny.  Its  evolu- 
tion is  still  very  incomplete,  but  it  is  certainly 
though  slowly  making  for  a  predestined  end  in 
which  all  men  in  Christ  shall  be  morally  perfect  as 
God  is ;  and  in  the  moral  relations  of  God  to  men, 
and  of  men  to  God  and  to  one  another,  an  order  of 
perfect  moral  unity  and  universality  shall  reign 
for  ever. 

In  this  order  of  things,  then,  and  its  evolution, 
the  death  of  Christ  occupies  a  place  of  the  highest 
importance  and  value.  It  is  only  from  the  point 
of  view  of  this  moral  order  of  things  and  its  evolu- 
tion that  the  essential  merits  of  His  death  can  be 
properly  understood.  A  consideration  of  it  from 
the  same  point  of  view  is  called  for  by  the  methods 
of  modern  thought  and  inquiry.     And  it  is  only 


thus  that  the  cultured  Christian  conscience  can 
iind  true,  adequate,  abiding  moral  satisfaction. 
But  it  is  necessary,  in  order  to  prevent  confusion 
of  ideas,  to  mark  the  important  distinction  that 
exists  in  the  nature  of  things  as  they  now  are  in 
man's  moral  history,  between  the  moral  order  of 
the  world  and  the  moral  course  of  the  world.  Tlie 
moral  order  of  the  world  as  just  defined  is  only  one 
of  the  constituent  factors  of  the  world's  moral 
course.  Besides  it  there  are  two  more.  There  is, 
on  the  one  hand,  the  factor  which  consists  of  all 
those  facts  or  phenomena  in  the  individual  and 
social  life  and  history  of  mankind  which  fall  under 
the  designation  of  sin  or  moral  evil ;  and,  on  the 
other,  the  moral  government  of  God,  which  pre- 
sides immanently,  persistently,  and  universally 
over  the  relations  between  sin  and  the  moral  order 
of  things  or  the  order  of  righteousness.  These  three 
factors  constitute  that  actual  moral  course  that 
the  world  is  ever  following ;  and  the  predestined 
end  of  their  relation  to  one  another  will  be  realized 
in  the  complete  and  eternal  victory  and  triumph  of 
righteousness  over  sin,  through  the  unerring  and 
all-sufficient  administrative  judgments  of  God's 
moral  government  of  the  world  (Mt  IS^'-'^,  1  Co 
15^"-*).  It  is  the  moral  course  of  the  world  as  so 
understood  that  explains  the  nature  and  methods 
of  the  historical  revelation,  contained  in  the  Bible, 
of  God's  will  and  purpose  in  their  relation  to  man's 
moral  life  and  destiny.  The  course  of  the  world 
as  so  understood  occupied  a  determinative  place  in 
our  Lord's  conceptions  of  man's  moral  life  and 
destiny  (see  Peogress).  And  it  was  from  the 
point  of  view  of  Sin,  Righteousness,  and  Judgment 
that  He  contemplated  the  fullest  and  profoundest 
significance  of  His  obedience  unto  death.  It  was 
on  the  place  of  His  death  in  the  moral  order  of  the 
world,  and  as  therein  related  to  man's  sin  and  God's 
governmental  judgment,  that  He  depended  for  the 
victory  and  triumph  of  Righteousness  over  Sin  in 
the  dispensation  of  the  Spirit  (Jn  17''").  From  the 
point  of  view  here  raised  His  death  may  be  con- 
sidered in  various  aspects. 

1.  He  was  put  to  death  on  the  Cross.  How  did 
this  happen?  What  were  His  leading  thoughts 
about  it  as  so  viewed  ?  He  lived  and  died  without 
sin.  He  fulfilled  all  righteousness  in  the  course  of 
His  obedience  unto  death,  freely  and  perfectly- 
uniting  Himself  and  all  the  activities  of  His  will 
and  life  with  the  will  and  purpose  of  God,  and 
with  Him  His  Father  was  well  jjleased.  This 
means  that  although  He  appeared  and  lived  and 
died  in  the  moral  course  of  the  world,  He  was  not 
of  the  world,  had  absolutely  no  fellowship  with  it 
in  so  far  as  it  was  under  the  domination  of  sin. 
He  loved  sinners  in  their  character  as  moral  beings 
with  perfect  love.  But  sin  He  hated  with  perfect 
hatred ;  and  He  lived  and  died  to  save  men  and 
the  moral  course  of  the  world  from  it.  His  life  of 
perfect  union  witli  His  Father's  will  and  purpose 
in  all  things  implied  not  only  that  He  lived  en- 
tirely on  the  side  and  in  the  interests  of  the  moral 
order  of  the  world,  but  also  that  the  latter  found  in 
Him,  for  the  first  time  on  earth,  the  One  Individual 
moral  Being  in  whom  it  had  secured  its  perfect 
form  of  manifest  realization,  in  so  far  as  this  was 
possible  in  one  life  in  human  form.  It  was  this 
fact,  on  the  one  liand,  and  the  hatred  of  the  men 
over  whom  the  world's  sin  had  gained  complete 
domination  on  the  other,  that  determined  His  way 
to  His  destiny  on  Calvary.  This  conjunction  of 
righteousness  and  sin,  and  their  creative  influence 
on  His  earthly  history  and  experience,  afl'ected 
Him  in  three  ways,  each  of  which  should  have  a 
regulative  efl'ect  on  every  one's  thoughts  as  to  the 
meaning  and  value  of  His  death. 

(1)  He  regarded  the  existence  of  the  sin  that 
arose    and    developed    in    increasing    antagonism 


4,30 


DEATH  OF  CHRIST 


DEATH  OF  CHRIST 


against  Himself  and  His  mission,  in  tiie  course 
of  His  ministry,  as  a  thing  that  ought  not  to  be. 
Saying  after  saying  of  His,  bearing  on  this  point, 
seems  almost  to  convey  the  impression  that  He 
must  have  resarded  this  sinful  and  guilty  opposi- 
tion, ■without  wliich  He  woidd  not  have  been  put 
to  death,  as  not  required  by  the  interests  and 
objects  of  the  moral  task  vliieh  He  had  come  into 
the  world  to  accomplish  (Mt2333-ss^  l]^  1331-35  23=^-^, 
Jn  7"  8='-="  151"-="  19"-  ").  (2)  Then,  again,  His 
own  words  show  that  the  inward  '  moral '  struggles 
and  agonies  of  His  life  arose  out  of  the  prospect 
and  contemplation  of  the  development  of  the  mani- 
festations of  tlie  world's  sin  and  unbelief  against 
Him  and  against  His  claim  to  be  entirely  identified 
with  His  Father's  will  and  purpose  m  all  His 
words  and  deeds.  His  experience  of  inward  crush- 
ing sorrow,  arising  from  the  cause  alluded  to, 
reached  its  culmination  in  the  Garden  of  Gethse- 
mane.  But  before  the  hour  which  He  spent  tliere 
in  anguish  and  bloody  sweat,  He  had  foretastes  of 
the  terrible  bitterness  of  the  Passion  which  He 
knew  was  awaiting  Him  as  His  destiny  (Jit  20-- 
26^«-'=,  Jn  12").  (3)  In  spite  of  these  two  facts  as 
to  our  Lord's  thought  and  e.xperience  in  connexion 
with  His  death,  He  alwa}s  cherished  perfectly 
optimistic  confidence  and  hope  as  to  the  issues  of 
the  latter.  Through  the  discipline  of  experience 
and  through  praj'er  He  became  strong  enough 
to  be  obedient  even  unto  death.  He  had  perfect 
faith  in  His  Father  as  the  Lord  of  heaven  and 
earth.  He  knew  that  all  the  future  interests  and 
objects  of  His  mission  and  work  on  earth  were 
absolutely  safe  in  His  hands.  He  knew  before  He 
died  that  His  death  could  not  hinder,  but  would  be 
made  to  further  these  objects  and  interests  (Jn 
12^-3=16'-"),  and  the  first  word  He  spoke  about 
His  death  after  He  had  risen  from  the  dead  was, 
'  Ought  not  Christ  to  have  sufi'ered  these  things, 
and  to  enter  into  his  glory  ?  '  (Lk  24="). 

2.  The  question  now  arises  as  to  the  nature, 
meaning,  and  value  of  our  Lord's  unique  achieve- 
ment on  earth,  which  reached  its  perfect  accom- 
plishment in  His  death  on  the  cross.  This 
achievement  from  beginning  to  end  was  made  by 
Him  in  His  position  as  internally  related  to  the 
moral  order  of  the  world,  and  through  it  to  the 
world  in  its  character,  aspirations,  and  activities 
as  under  the  domination  of  sin.  His  achievement, 
as  so  viewed,  consisted  in  the  perfect  realization 
of  His  Father's  will  and  purpose  in  His  unique 
moral  Individuality,  and  in  all  the  manifestations 
of  the  latter  in  His  relations  with  God  and  with 
men.  It  is  to  be  observed,  then,  for  one  thing  of 
liighest  importance,  that  this  achievement  of  His, 
in  its  nature,  meaning,  and  value,  was  purely, 
entirely,  exclusively  moral.  There  are  two  con- 
siderations wliich  place  this  fact  in  the  region  of 
absolute  certainty. 

In  the  first  place,  the  fact  has  its  validity  in  the 
established  nature  of  the  moral  order  of  tlie  world 
and  in  Christ's  own  place  in  this  order.  This  is  an 
order  of  things  which  has  its  foundations  in  the 
moral  nature  of  God  ;  in  the  moral  nature  of  man 
as  made  in  tlie  image  of  God  as  a  Moral  Being ; 
in  the  fact  and  in  the  nature  of  the  moral  relations 
between  God  and  men  and  between  man  and  man  ; 
and  also  in  the  fact  that  Christ  as  the  Son  of  God 
came  into  the  world  to  qualify  Himself  for  occupy- 
ing His  momentous  position  of  mediation  witliin 
the  sphere  of  the  moral  relations  of  God  to  men 
and  of  men  to  God.  These  are  all  indisputable 
facts,  and  they  make  it  certain  that  the  essential 
nature  and  objects  of  our  Lord's  earthly  achieve- 
ment, which  culminated  in  the  manner  in  wliich 
He  met  His  death  on  the  cross,  were  absolutely 
and  exclusively  moral.  That  it  was  so  in  our 
Lord's  own  way  of  conceiving  of  the  nature,  mean- 


ing, and  value  of  His  life  of  obedience  unto  death, 
is  manifest  from  His  own  words,  e.g.,  in  Jn  16'"". 

But,  secondly,  the  same  conclusion  follows  from 
His  attitude  of  resistance  to  the  whole  system  of 
IcgriHsm  which  He  found  Judaism  had  developed 
and  set  up,  as  an  order  of  fixed  and  unchangeable 
conditions,  in  the  relations  between  God  and  men 
—  between  Him  and  them  as  individuals,  and 
between  Him  and  the  ■Itwish  nation  at  large  as 
His  own  peculiar  co\eiuuit  ]ieople.  Tlie  eliect  of 
this  system,  as  being  both  theoretically  and  ad- 
ministratively legal,  ^^  as  conceived  and  opposed  by 
our  Lord  as  subversive  of  that  moral  order  of 
things  in  which  inward,  direct,  universal,  and 
eternal  relations  are  established  between  God  and 
men  (Mk  7'"^).  And  it  is  a  fact  written  broadly 
and  deeply  in  all  the  Gospels,  that  if  there  was  any- 
thing that  He  ever  attempted  more  manifestly, 
strenuously,  uncompromisingly,  and  more  per- 
sistently than  another,  it  was  this,  viz.  :  to  over- 
throw completely  and  for  ever  the  entire  order  of 
ideas  which  rested  upon  the  stupendous  error  that 
the  direct  relations  between  God  and  men  are  legal, 
that  they  are  founded  on  legal  conditions,  that 
they  are  to  be  maintained,  administered,  and 
mediated  by  legal  means,  and  that,  therefore, 
they  are  not  inward  but  external  (Mt  5-7.  15'"^  23, 
Lk  11^-^,  Jn  5»-"  1^-^  8="-='«  12='-*).  What,  then, 
does  His  attitude  of  unreserved  and  bold  antago- 
nism to  the  legal  system  of  Judaism  implj^  in  the 
point  of  view  here  considered  ?  (1)  It  implies  that 
in  His  position  in  the  moral  order  of  the  world  He 
stood  on  the  eternal  fact  and  truth  that  the  direct 
relations  between  God  as  a  Moral  Being  and  men 
as  moral  beings  are  inward  and  therefore  essenti- 
allj'  moral.  (2)  It  implies,  again,  that  He  stood 
upon  the  predestined  fact  and  truth  that  His 
position  and  work  of  mediation  within  the  domain 
of  these  relations  were  also  essentially  moral  and 
therefore  anti-legal. 

3.  But,  further,  it  follows  from  the  nature  of 
our  Lord's  earthly  task  that  the  achievement  of  it 
in  the  manner  in  which  He  lived  and  died  was  a 
moral  unity.  His  personality  or  moral  individu- 
ality was  a  unity.  His  will  was  a  moral  unity, 
and  the  entire  series  of  the  manifold  inward  and 
outward  free  moral  activities  of  His  life  until  His 
last  moment  on  the  cross,  were  related  to  one 
another  as  a  perfectly  consistent  order  of  moral 
unity.  He  came  into  the  world,  as  He  Himself 
always  represented,  on  one  entirely  homogeneous 
moral  undertaking ;  and  when  this  undertaking 
was  fulfilled,  He  spoke  of  it  in  terms  which  show 
that  He  regarded  the  finished  task  as  one  homo- 
geneous moral  result  (Jn  W  19=*).  In  other  words, 
our  Lord's  obedience  in  His  manner  of  living  and 
dying  followed  the  law  of  moral  continuity.  His 
obedience  unto  death  was  regulated,  on  His  part, 
by  one  determinative  moral  principle ;  but  there 
was  diversity  of  incidental  moral  significance  and 
value  in  the  various  positions  in  which  His  moral 
vocation  summoned  Him  to  act,  and  to  be  faithful 
and  loyal  to  this  principle. 

(1)  What  was  the  principle  which  constituted 
the  perfect  moral  unity  or  His  obedience  unto 
death  ?  It  was  perfect  love,  manifesting  itself  in 
perfect  self-sacrifice  and  sen'ice,  and,  in  doing  this, 
ever  paying  perfectly  wise  and  loyal  regard  to  the 
moral  requirements  of  human  life  and  destiny 
on  the  one  hand,  and  to  the  moral  requirements 
of  God's  holy  will  and  purpose  in  relation  to  those 
human  requirements  on  the  other  (Mt  20=«  26^»,  Mk 
10*=,  Jn  10"-  "  13'-"  3"--'  i^  S''-"  S"-  ™-  =*•  "  n'-'- 
M.  5ii)_  j?i-om  such  sayings  of  our  Lord's  us  un;  hi'i  1; 
referred  to,  it  is  obvious  that  the  piiin  ijlc  whuh 
regulated  all  the  moral  acti^dties  of  Hi-  litr  «:i-, 
in  etlect,  of  the  nature  and  compass  ju-t  cIclin.Ml. 
There  are  no  words  of  His  reported  in  any  of  the 


DEATH  OF  CHRIST 


DEATH  OF  CHRIST 


431 


Gospels  which  justify  the  making  of  any  essential 
distinction  between  the  nature  of  His  obedience 
or  moral  achievement  during  the  time  of  the 
Passion,  and  the  nature  of  it  prior  to  tlie  hour 
when  He  allowed  Himself  to  fall  into  the  power  of 
His  enemies.  The  period  of  His  Passion  was  indeed 
unique  in  tM'o  things  as  regards  His  own  part  in 
it.  From  the  moment  that  He  began  to  pray  in 
Gethsemane  till  the  moment  when  He  said  '  It  is 
finished,'  on  the  cross.  He  endured  unspeakable 
suflering,  physical  and  moral,  altogether  un- 
paralleled in  His  antecedent  experience.  Again, 
it  was  precisely  during  this  period  of  Hisextremest 
suffering  that  all  His  powers  of  moral  activity 
were  subjected  to  their  severest  strain,  and  that 
they,  under  this  strain,  reached  the  highest  pos- 
sible point  of  their  morally  victorious,  triumphant 
achievement.  But  these  two  facts,  so  distinctive 
of  His  Passion,  made  no  real  breach  in  the  moral 
continuity  and  unity  of  the  moral  achievement  of 
His  life  as  a  whole.  His  moral  suffering  did  not 
begin  with  the  last  tragic  hours  of  His  life.  There 
was  an  element  of   moral   suffering  in  the  com- 

Eassion  with  which  He  was  so  often  moved.  He 
ad  looked  forward  to  His  predestined  '  hour ' ; 
and  His  word.s,  '  I  have  a  baptism  to  be  baptized 
with ;  and  how  am  I  straitened  till  it  be  accom- 
plished !'  (Lk  12^°),  suggest  that,  in  anticipation  of 
His  cross.  He  may  have  spent  many  an  hour  in 
painful  moral  wrestling,  in  view  of  His  destiny, 
long  before  His  anticipations  began  actually  to  be 
realized.  In  any  case,  it  may  be  taken  as  certain 
that  there  was  no  form  of  inward  moral  activity 
called  forth  in  Him  during  the  liours  of  His 
Passion,  which  had  not  been  evoked  many  times 
over  in  previous  situations  of  His  life.  But  on  the 
cross  these  moral  activities  of  His,  in  the  superla- 
tive degree  of  their  strenuousness  and  in  the  tran- 
scendent magnitude  of  their  victory  over  sin  and 
temptation,  eclipsed  all  the  moral  achievements  of 
His  past  life.  And  yet  in  reality  He  died,  in  the 
sense  of  all  that  was  essentially  moral,  as  He  had 
lived.  He  lived  and  died  determined  by  the  same 
moral  principle,  in  the  same  spirit  of  love  and  self- 
sacrifice  and  service,  and  in  the  same  spirit  of  per- 
fectly wise  and  loyal  regard  to  all  the  demands  of 
God's  will  and  purpose  on  Him,  and  to  all  the 
demands  on  Him  of  the  world's  moral  needs. 

This  view  of  the  moral  unity  of  the  achievement 
of  Christ's  earthly  activities  is  the  truth  as  it 
was  in  His  own  thought.  His  thought  was  this  : 
'  Therefore  doth  my  Father  love  me,  because  I  lay 
down  my  life(^7(j  riffrj/ti  tV  i^ixh"  f^""),  that  I  might 
take  it  again.  No  man  taketh  it  from  me,  but  I 
lay  it  down  of  myself.  I  have  power  to  lay  it 
down,  and  I  have  power  to  take  it  again.  This 
commandment  have  I  received  of  my  Father '  ( Jn 
lO"' '').  Now  there  is  absolutely  nothing  in  these 
words  to  justify  any  theologian  in  limiting  the 
application  of  them  to  what  our  Lord  did  during 
the  hours  of  His  Passion.  What  He  did  then, 
in  the  exercise  of  His  powers  of  moral  activity,  was 
to  submit,  in  a  way  perfectly  pleasing  to  God, 
to  the  sort  of  death  predestined  for  Him.  Again, 
for  Him  who  was  in  God,  and  who  had  God  in 
Him,  'it  was  not  death  to  die.'  He  never  was 
more  alive,  in  the  highest  ,ind  deepest  sense  of  the 
word  as  applied  to  a  perfect  moral  being,  than  in 
the  very  moment  on  the  cross  wlien  He  cried  with 
a  loud  voice,  saying,  'Father,  into  thy  hands  I 
commend  my  spirit'  (Lk  23^'')-  He  did  indeed  lay 
down  His  life  in  submitting  to  His  death,  which 
He  indisputably  contemplated  in  the  same  way  as 
St.  Peter  did  in  the  words,  '  Him  ...  ye  have 
taken,  and  by  wicked  hands  have  crucified  and 
slain '  (Ac  2=^,  cf.  Mt  le^',  Jn  7'='  8^").  But  how  did 
it  come  to  pass  that  He  was  able  to  lay  down  His 
life  in  dying,  doing  so  in  such  a  manner  that  His 


Father  loved  Him  in  the  doing  of  it  and  for  the 
doing  of  it  ?  It  so  came  to  pass  because  He  had 
never  done  anything  else  but  lay  down  His  life 
(i'^Xv)  in  living.  All  the  moral  jiowers  of  holy 
love,  self-sacritice,  and  service  that  were  individ- 
ualized in  Him  as  the  incarnate  Son  of  God  and 
man's  Redeemer, — these  powers,  which  were  His 
life.  He  laid  down,  consecrated,  employed,  every 
moment  and  in  every  situation  of  His  life  of  free 
activity,  in  order  perfectly  to  fullil  His  life's  voca- 
tion as  determined  for  Ilim  liy  His  Father's  will 
and  purpose,  and  by  the  moral  necessities  of  the 
world  which  He  had  come  to  save.  And  it  was 
because  He  did  all  this  in  living  that  He  was  able 
so  successfully  and  triumphantly  to  do  it  all  in 
dying.  And  the  effect  of  this  truth  is  neither  to 
dim  the  moral  splendour  nor  to  detract  from  the 
moral  value  of  our  Lord's  death,  but  rather  to 
reveal  how  great  was  the  moral  splendour  and 
value  of  all  the  activities,  words,  and  deeds  of 
His  life. 

(2)  But  if  His  life  prepared  Him  for  dying,  His 
death  on  the  cross  raised  the  moral  splendour  and 
value  of  His  whole  life  to  its  highest  powers  of 
revelation  and  effect  in  the  human  soul  and  in  the 
moral  history  of  the  world.  The  supreme  distinc- 
tion of  the  cross,  as  our  Lord  Himself  understood 
it  and  trusted  and  hoped  in  it,  as  related  to  man's 
redemption,  was  the  unique,  stupendous,  tragic  con- 
junction of  sin  and  righteousness  and  judgment,  a 
moral  tragedy  of  which  the  cross  was  but  the  out- 
ward visilih'  syiiihol.  The  complex  event  for  which 
the  ciiis^  st:ni.l-;  is  the  most  momentous  and  the 
most  (  reati\e  iiK.ral  event  in  the  history  of  the 
world's  moi.d  enurse.  In  the  tragic  moral  truth 
of  this  event  God  and  Christ  and  man,  God's 
righteousness  and  love  in  Christ,  man's  sin  and 
salvation,  and  eternal  judgment,  were  and  are  all 
directly  concerned  in  the  highest  degree.  The  fact 
of  Christ's  death  is  thus  pregnant  with  all  the 
inexhaustible  powers  necessary  for  the  moral  re- 
generation of  the  individual  human  soul  and  of  the 
human  race.  Out  of  this  fact  springs  the  inspiration 
necessary  to  illuminate  the  human  conscience  with 
divinest  moral  ideas,  and  to  make  it  live  in  the 
divinest  power  of  moral  sentiment.  And  it  is  in 
this  internal  moral  renewal  and  its  manifestations 
that  the  soul  finds  its  true  redemption  and  its 
highest  life ;  so  Christ  Himself  evidently  thought 
(Jn  16''-"). 

i.  It  now  remains  to  note,  from  the  standpoint 
of  the  moral  order  of  the  world,  some  features  of 
our  Lord's  place  and  work  therein,  as  the  Mediator 
between  God  and  men.  His  work  of  mediation  in 
the  flesh  ended  with  His  death  on  the  cross,  and  it 
was  preliminary  to  His  mediation  in  the  Spirit  (Jn 
14'---"  16'-").  His  mediation  in  the  Spirit,  which 
will  be  continued  until  the  Kingdom  of  God  is  per- 
fected, is  dependent  for  its  existence  and  efficiency 
on  the  moral  and  historical  conditions  provided  in 
His  earthly  life  of  obedience  unto  death,  and  in 
the  revelation  of  sin,  righteousness,  and  judgment 
in  which  the  completion  of  His  work  in  the  flesh 
issued.  What,  then,  are  the  nature,  the  objects, 
and  the  methods  of  our  Lord's  mediation  ? 

(1)  Its  general  object  is  to  save  individuals  from 
their  sin  by  reconciling  them  to  God,  to  perfect 
them  as  individuals  in  their  moral  nature  and  life, 
and  to  unite  all  who  are  thus  saved  in  a  life  of 
eternal  oneness  with  God,  and  with  one  another  in 
Him. — (2)  The  sphere  within  which  the  mediation 
of  Christ  is  carried  on  with  a  view  to  that  end  is 
that  of  the  inward  and  immediate  moral  relations  of 
God  as  a  moral  Being  to  men,  and  of  men  as  moral 
beings  to  God.  It  was  so  even  during  the  time  of 
His  earthly  life  and  ministry  in  so  far  as  His  media- 
tion took  real  saving  effect  in  the  moral  nature 
and  life  of  any  of  His  disciples.     It  is  so  still  in 


DEATH  OF  CHRIST 


DEATH  OF  CHRIST 


the  current  dispensation  of  the  Spirit  by  whose 
agency  His  mediation  is  brought  to  saving  effect 
in  souls.  All  the  methods  of  the  Spirit's  work  and 
all  the  moral  elt'ects  that  result  from  it  imply  the 
existence  of  internal,  direct,  living,  moral  relations 
between  the  soul  and  God  in  Christ. — (3)  The 
mediation  of  Christ,  as  brought  to  effect  by  the 
Spirit's  work,  is  in  every  case  a  relation  of  His 
mediation  to  the  individual.  For  the  Spirit  can- 
not work  in  any  number  of  indi\dduals  as  a  body 
unless  in  so  far  as  He  works  in  the  moral  nature 
and  life  of  each.  —  (4)  The  mediation  of  Christ 
operates  through  the  Spirit's  agency  by  means  of 
moral  illumination  and  power — and  moral  illumina- 
tion is  always  moral  power. — (5)  The  moral  means 
in  question  consist  in  the  revelation  of  the  holy 
gracious  love  or  righteousness  of  God  as  realized 
by  Christ,  and  manifested  in  His  life  and  death  of 
perfect  self-sacrifice  for  the  world's  salvation.  The 
best  name  for  all  this  is  '  grace  ' — the  grace  of  the 
Lord  Jesus  Christ,  or  the  grace  of  God  in  Clirist, 
which  was  and  is  no  other  thing  than  the  sum  of 
the  living  activities  of  God  as  lioly  love,  evoked  by 
men's  need  of  salvation  from  sin — men  as  moral 
lieings.  And  this  grace  of  God  in  Clirist  is  moral. 
It  is  the  highest  and  grandest  form  of  tlie  self- 
manifestation  of  God  as  a  perfect  moral  Being. — 
(6)  Hence  it  is  only  by  means  of  appropriate  moral 
conditions,  existing  in  the  individuals  own  moral 
nature  and  inner  life,  that  he  can  enter  into  and 
abide  in  a  saving  relation  to  the  grace  of  God 
as  mediated  by  Christ  througli  the  work  of  His 
Spirit.  And  these  internal  moral  conditions  are 
repentance,  faitli,  and  the  spirit  of  free  and  loyal 
obedience  to  Christ  or  to  God,  all  of  wliich  "are 
essentially  related  to  one  another,  in  every  one  of 
which  the  whole  of  the  individual's  moral  natiire 
comes  to  forms  of  manifestation  in  harmony  with 
the  will  of  God,  and  all  together  have  the  effect 
of  uniting  the  individual  directly  and  inwardly 
with  God  in  Christ. — (7)  This  internal,  immediate 
union  of  the  individual  with  Christ,  and  therefore 
with  God,  is  the  true  way  of  salvation  and  life  for 
man  (Jn  14^)  This  secures  not  only  forgiveness, 
but  every  moral  or  spiritual  blessing  that  the  indi- 
vidual needs  for  this  world  and  the  next,  every 
blessing  that  God  has  to  give  or  that  it  is  possible 
for  Him  to  bestow  in  Christ  and  through  the  work 
of  His  Spirit  in  the  heart.  The  inward,  direct 
union  of  the  individual  with  Christ  through  re- 
pentance, faith,  and  the  spirit  of  obedience,  means 
that  the  law  of  the  Spirit  of  life  in  Christ  Jesus 
has  made  him  free  from  the  law  of  sin  and  death 
(Ro  8'-^).  This  law  of  the  Spirit  of  life  in  Christ  is 
the  law  of  eternal  righteousness.  Thus  the  moral 
regeneration  of  the  individual  through  liis  entrance 
into  a  state  of  union  with  Christ,  and  with  God  in 
Him,  is  a  new  life,  which  carries  in  it  the  whole 
principle  of  eternal  righteousness ;  and  his  union 
with  Christ,  his  dependence  on  Christ,  his  fellow- 
ship with  Him  in  the  love  that  is  of  God,  are 
guarantees  that  the  lawof  righteousness  will  eventu- 
ally receive  complete  fulfilment  through  his  walk- 
ing not  after  the  flesh,  but  after  the  Spirit.  And 
what  is  the  law  of  the  Spirit  of  life  and  righteous- 
ness in  Christ  but  tlie  law  of  that  moral  order, 
through  which  Christ  Jesus,  by  means  of  His  media- 
tion, first  in  the  flesh  and  then  in  tlie  Spirit,  is 
establishing  and  perfecting  all  the  moral  relations 
of  indi^dual  men  to  God  and  to  one  another  in 
Him  ?  This  is  the  new  creation  that  Christ  is 
evolving  in  the  moral  course  of  the  world  by  means 
of  His  mediation.  And,  having  made  peace  by  the 
blood  of  His  cross,  IL  \,i;i  i  .loiin  i.-  His  mediation 
until  He  has  reconril..;  i    _     In  Ijeaven  and  on 

earth  unto  Himself,  ^m  i  h  t  m  ( lod  (Coll-^). 

LlTERATl-RF..— Dale,    .1'  '    '.1    DixMm,    chs. 

x.-.\ii. ;  Bruce,  Trainiwj  ../  the  Tirrn.;  ilis.  xii.,  xvrt.,  xviii., 


xxii.,  HumUiation  of  Christ,  317-400;  Lrix  Mundi,  ch.  vii. ; 
Dennev,  Death  of  Christ,  Atonement  aiui  Modern  Mind ;  Weiss, 
Bib.  Theol.  of  NT,  i.  419-452  ;  Beyschlag,  ST  Theol.  ii.  133-164  ; 


Kaftan,  Dogmatik, 


W.  D.  Thomson. 


II.  In  the  Epistles.— In  keeping  with  the 
amount  of  space  devoted  in  the  Gospels  to  the 
story  of  Christ's  Passion  is  the  place  assigned  to 
our  Lord's  death  in  the  Epistles,  and  the  signifi- 
cance CA-idently  attached  to  it.  The  material  is 
so  abundant  that  it  is  impossible  to  give  it  in  full 
detail.  All  that  can  be  attempted  is  a  brief  sketch 
covering  the  chief  epistolary  groups,  in  which, 
however,  the  Apocalypse  may  be  included,  as  con- 
taining the  '  Letters  to  the  Seven  Churches,'  and 
forming  an  important  part  of  tlie  Johannine  cycle. 
Two  distinct  features  come  before  us  :  (1)  the  place 
given  in  the  Epp.  to  the  death  of  Clirist ;  (2)  the 
meaning  assigned  to  it. 

1.  The  place  given  to  the  death  of  Christ — 
Beginning  with  1  Peter,  we  see  the  prominence 
which  the  subject  occupied  in  the  Apostle's  mind 
when  we  find  him  in  his  very  first  sentence  speak- 
ing of  '  the  sprinkling  of  the  blood  of  Jesus  Christ' 
(1=),  and  thereafter  referring  repeatedly  to  those 
sufferings  of  Christ  on  our  behalf  {V^<-  2="f-  3'M') 
of  which  he  himself  had  been  a  witness  (5'). 

Coming  to  ,S7.  Paul,  we  have  not  only  the  fact, 
apparent  to  every  reader,  that  he  set  Christs 
death  in  tlie  forefront  of  all  his  teaching,  but  his 
testimony  that  in  doing  so  he  was  following  the 
example  of  the  earlier  Apostles  and  the  primitive 
Church.  'I  delivered  unto  you  first  of  all,'  he 
writes,  '  that  which  also  I  received,  how  that 
Christ  died  for  our  sins  according  to  the  Scrip- 
tures' (1  Co  13').  And  St.  Paul's  jireoccupation 
with  the  death  of  Clirist  was  not  a  passing  phase 
of  his  religious  experience.  AVe  find  him  speaking 
of  it  in  tlie  first  and  last  chapters  of  his  earliest 
Epistle  (1  Th  1"  S").  In  the  great  Epistles  of  his 
middle  period  it  is  his  dominating  thought.  The 
Ep.  to  the  Galatians  is  a  passionate  apologia  for 
the  gospel  which  he  preached  (l™-),  a  gospel  whose 
substance  he  sums  up  in  the  words  'Jesus  Christ 
.  .  .  crucified'  (3^),  and  with  regard  to  which  he 
exclaims,  '  God  forbid  that  I  should  glory  save  in 
the  cross  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ '  (6'^).  In  1  Cor. 
he  declares  that  when  he  came  to  Corinth  he 
determined  not  to  know  anything  there  .save  Jesus 
Clirist  and  Him  crucified  (2^) ;  and  further  assures 
his  converts,  in  a  passage  already  refened  to,  that 
in  proclaiming  Christ's  death  '  first  of  all '  he  was 
only  maintaining  the  Christian  tradition  as  he  had 
received  it  (15^).  In  this  same  Epistle  he  hands  on 
(11-^)  the  special  tradition  of  the  institution  of  the 
Lord's  Supper,  refers  to  that  rite  as  the  central 
purpose  for  which  the  members  of  the  Church 
c.ime  together  (cf.  v."  with  v.-""),  and  says  that  in 
the  observance  of  this  great  solemnity  of  the  Chris- 
tian faith  we  '  proclaim  the  Lord's  death  till  he 
come'  (v.°^).  2  Cor.,  besides  many  other  refer- 
ences, contains  the  great  classical  pa.s.sage  in  which 
Clirist's  death  is  set  forth  as  the  convincing  proof 
of  His  love  and  the  basis  of  the  ministry  of  re- 
conciliation {o^*"-).  In  Romans  the  expressions 
'  Christ  died '  and  '  his  death '  occur  more  fre- 
quently than  in  all  tlie  rest  of  St.  Paul's  Epistles 
put  together.  '  Christ  died  for  the  ungodly,'  we 
read  (o*") ;  '  while  we  were  yet  sinners,  Christ  died 
for  us'  (v.*) ;  '  he  died  unto  sins  once'  (6'") ;  'it  is 
Christ  Jesus  that  died,  yea  rather  that  was  raised 
from  the  dead '  (8**).  Similarly,  the  Apostle  writes, 
'  "We  were  reconciled  to  God  through  the  death  of 
his  Son'  (5'");  'we  were  baptized  into  his  death' 
.  .  .  '  buried  with  him  .  .  .  into  death,'  '  united  with 
him  by  the  likeness  of  his  death '  (6''  ■*•  °).  And 
when  we  pass  to  the  last  grou])  of  the  Pauline 
writing.s,  although  we  find  that  in  two  of  tliem, 
Colossians  and  Ephesians,  the  writer  has  a  larger 


DEATH  OF  CHRIST 


DEATH  OF  CHRIST 


433 


outlook  than  before,  and  thinks  of  Christ's  work 
now  as  having  a  cosmic  and  not  merely  a  human 
'significance  (Col  I''"''-,  Eph  li»-=»if'),  he  still  exalts. 
Christ's  death  as  the  very  core  of  the  work  He  did. 
It  is  '  the  firstborn  from  the  dead'  (Col  I'*)  who  is 
'the  firstborn  of  every  creature'  (v.'=).  'He  is 
before  all  things,  and  "by  him  all  things  consist ' 
(v.");  but  it  is  'through  death'  (v.--),  'through 
his  blood'  (v."),  'through  the  blood  of  his  cross' 
(v.-"),  that  He  brings  peace  and  redemption  and 
reconciliation  (cf.,  further,  Eph  1'"-  =»"■■  with  S'^-  "* 
52-  -% 

Very  different  views  have  been  taken  of  the 
relation  in  the  mind  of  the  author  of  Hcbreics 
between  the  incarnation  and  the  death  of  Christ. 
But  in  any  case  it  is  agreed  that  it  is  upon  the 
latter  subject  that  the  writer's  attention  is  especi- 
ally fastened.  It  is  in  wiiat  lie  has  to  say  about 
the  death  of  Christ  and  its  purpose  that  we  find  the 
real  message  of  the  wurk.  It  is  to  ehicidate  and 
illustrate  tills  great  thi'in'  ili:.!  ili.'  iiUhor  draws 
so  freelj  upon  his  intinu!  ■  j-i;:;,!  i  m  .mci;  with  the 
sacrificial  rites  and  iiiini  ;  :  ;  i  ■  ih.xid  of  the 
OT  Church  (P  2»-  "  7-'  'J'- '■  '  '    l< '   ■    '  ■  -'  1-2--  =•■  13'-). 

With  regard  to  the  Apocaf i/p.ir ,  it  is  noteworthy 
that  at  the  very  beginning  of  the  book  Jesus  Christ 
is  introduced  to  us  as  '  the  firstborn  of  the  dead,' 
and  that  the  ascription  immediately  follows,  '  Unto 
him  that  loveth  us,  and  loosed  us  from  our  sins  by 
his  blood'  (P).  And  very  significant  surely  is  the 
constant  recurrence,  througliout  the  book,  of  the 
figure  of  the  Lamb,  a  figure  the  meaning  of  which 
is  made  clear  when  the  Lamb  is  described  as  '  the 
Lamb  that  was  slain,'  the  Lamb  by  whose  blood 
men  of  every  nation  liave  been  '  purchased  unto 
God'  (see  esp.  g''- "■ '-  7'^  12").  1  .Jn.  is  a  treatise 
not  on  the  death  of  Christ  but  on  the  '  word  of 
life'  {V).  Jesus  is  conceived  of  as  tlie  manifested 
life  (1-),  and  union  with  Him  tlirougli  faith  as  the 
source  of  eternal  life  to  men  (5""'-').  And  yet  tlie 
condition  of  our  transition  from  deatli  to  life  is 
the  fact  that  Christ  'laid  down  his  life  for  us' 
(3'''-  "''),  and  a  Christian  life  which  can  be  descrilied 
as  a  'walk  in  the  light'  is  secured  only  by  the  fact 
that  Jesus  Christ  the  righteous  is  '  the  propitiatiun 
for  our  sins,'  and  that  His  blood  '  cleanseth  us  from 
all  sin'  (1'  2'--). 

2.  The  meaning  assigned  to  the  death  of  Christ. 
— Having  established  the  place  given  in  the  Epp. 
to  Christ's  death,  we  must  now  consider  the  mean- 
ing which  is  assigned  to  it.  (1)  The  fundamental 
thought  in  all  the  gi-oujis  is  that  the  deatli  of  Christ 
is  a  manifestation  of  the  lure  of  God.  'God  coni- 
mendeth  his  own  love  toward  us,'  says  St.  Paul, 
'  in  that  while  we  were  yet  sinners  Christ  died  for 
us'(Ro5').  This  Pauline  keynote  is  one  that  is 
constantly  struck.  In  1  Peter  '  the  sprinkling  of 
tlie  blood  of  Jesus  Christ'  is  brought  into  immedi- 
ate connexion  with  '  the  foreknowledge  of  God  the 
Father'  (1-)— a  view  of  the  Father's  relation  to  the 
death  of  Jesus  which  must  not  be  lost  sight  of 
when  the  Apostle  exclaims  in  the  next  verse, 
'  Blessed  be  the  God  and  Father  of  our  Lord  Jesus 
Christ,  who  according  to  his  great  mercy  begat  us 
again  unto  a  living  hope  by  the  resurrection  of 
Jesus  Christ  from  the  dead'  (v.'').  The  autlior  of 
Hebrews  declares  tliat  it  was  bi/  the  fjrace  of  God 
that  Jesus  tasted  death  for  every  man  (-2^),  and  that 
it  was  by  the  will  of  God  that  we  were  '  sanctified 
through  the  ottering  of  the  body  of  Jesus  Christ 
once  for  all'  (lO'-W).  In  1  Jn.  we  have  the  great 
utterance,  '  Herein  is  love,  not  that  we  loved  God, 
but  that  he  loved  us,  and  sent  his  Son  to  be  the 
propitiation  for  our  sins  '  (4'"). 

In   all    these   writers,    then,    tlio    i;ra(0    of    the 

Heavenly  Father  is  tlie  source  of  tlie  rr,l,-i,iptinn 

which  is  bound  up  with  the  deatli  of  Chrisl.      In 

the  case  of  St.  Paul  the  attempt  is  frequently  made 

VOL.  1.—2S 


to  show  that  his  teaching  on  the  subject  of  Christ's 
death  as  a  necessary  sacrifice  for  sin  is  inconsistent 
with  the  utterances  of  Jesus  Himself  {e.(f.  in  the 
parable  of  the  Prodigal  Son,  Lk  lo-""'-)  with  regard 
to  the  Father's  spontaneous  love  for  sinners.  But 
whatever  St.  Paul  said  as  to  the  propitiatory 
character  of  tlie  death  of  Christ,  it  is  evident  that 
he  never  felt  that  he  was  compromising  the  love  of 
God  in  any  way.  On  the  contrary,  he  saw  in  God's 
love  the  original  motive  of  Christ's  sacrifice  (2  Co 
5"),  and  in  that  sacrifice  the  commendation  of  the 
Father's  love  (Ro  .">'). 

(2)Furtlier,  thedc.ithofCl 
sented  as  thr  .s-ii/)i-riiii-  r.r/irr.s; 
Himself.  With  SI.  I'aul  th 
stantly  recurring  thought. 
constraineth  us,'  he  exclaims  in  one  of  his  greatest 
passages,  '  because  we  thus  judge,  that  one  died  for 
air  (2  Co  o").  'Christ  also,'  says  St.  Peter, 
'  suffered  for  sins  once,  the  righteous  for  the  un- 
righteous, that  he  might  bring  us  to  God'  (1  P  3'*). 
In  the  view  of  the  author  of  Hebrews,  Jesus '  ottered 
himself  (through  His  death,  viz.,  as  the  preceding 
phrase,  'the  blood  of  Christ,'  shows)  to  jiurge  the 
human  conscience  (9''').  And  St.  John  writes,  •  He ' 
{i.e.  Christ)  'laid  down  his  life  f,,r  us'  (1  Jn  3'"). 

The  Father  and  the  Smi  are  thus  represented  as 
working  together  in  Christ's  death  for  man's  salva- 
tion, and  working  together  from  motives  of  love. 
As  St.  Paul  expresses  it,  '  God  was  in  Christ  recon- 
ciling the  world  unto  himself  (2  Co  5'").  But 
"  intary  instrument  of   the 


rist  is  uniformly  repre- 
ion  of  the  love  of  Christ 
i  is  a  central  and  con- 
'The  love  of  Christ 


Christ  is  not   th 

Father's  love  for  men 

sacrifice.     He  is  the  '  L 

Baptist  said  (Jn  l-^-  ^') : 

a  lamb  to  the  slaughtt 

the  OT  prophet.     Katlier,  as  in 


self  a  willing 
indeed,  as  the 
it  '  brought  as 
dim  figure  of 
conception  of 


the  writer  of  Hebrews,  He  is  the  High  Priest  who 
makes  the  offering,  even  more  than  the  Lamb  that 
is  laid  on  the  altar  (9""'^).  St.  Paul  sums  up  the 
matter  apart  from  the  imagery  of  the  Tabernacle 
and  the  Temple,  and  in  the  simple  dialect  of  the 
heart,  when  he  says,  'The  Son  of  God  loved  me, 
:iiid  ,u.u  e  himself  up  for  me'  (Gal  2="). 

(.'il  Ihit  while  springing  from  the  Divine  love,  the 
di-ath  of  Christ  is  represented  in  the  Epp.  not  less 
clearly  .'is  n  jiropitiatioiifor  sin.  According  to  St. 
r.iul,  as  we  have  seen,  it  was  the  initial  article  of 
the  jpriinitive  tradition  that  'Christ  died  for  our 
sins  according  to  the  Scriptures'  (1  Co  15').  And 
this  part  of  the  primary  deposit  of  Apostolic  testi- 
mony reappears  in  the  witness  of  all  the  different 
epistolary  groups.  It  reappears  so  constantly  that 
no  reader  of  the  NT  will  challenge  the  statement 
that  Christ's  death  is  invariably  associated  with 
the  putting  away  of  sin  (cf.  1  P  l"*"-  2--'  3'^  Gal  1* 
3"  6'^  2  Co_5»,  Ro  3=i'''-  5^>';  He  9=«- "-«,  1  Jn  V  2=  4"). 
The  discussion  of  the  precise  natirre  of  the  relation 
between  these  two  magnitudes — the  death  of 
Christ  and  the  sin  of  man— belongs  properly  to  the 
doctrine  of  the  Atonement  (see  Atonement,  RAN- 
SOM, Reconciliation,  Redemption).  But  this 
at  least  may  be  said,  that  however  the  matter  may 
appear  to  those  who  deal  with  it  from  the  point 
of  view  of  a  philosophy  of  the  Atonement,  any 
interpretation  of  the  mass  of  NT  evidence  seems 
difiicult  and  forced  which  does  not  recognize 
that,  in  the  view  of  these  writers,  Christ's  death 
was  really  our  death  in  a  vicarious  and  propitiatory 
sense— that  Jesus  Christ  died  on  our  behalf  that 
death  which  is  the  fruit  of  sin,  taking  upon 
Himself  the  Divine  condemnation  of  sin,  so  that 
there  might  be  no  condemnation  to  those  who  are 
found   in    Him.      That   this  is   the   I'.-uiline  teaeli- 


-.iclnng 
nonage 
iiiitural 


434 


DEATH  OF  CHRI&t 


DEBT,  DEBTOR 


sense.  Is  not  this  wliat  St.  Peter  means  when 
he  says,  '"Who  liis  own  self  bare  our  sins  in  liis 
body  on  the  tree,  that  we,  liaving  died  unto  sins, 
might  live  unto  righteousness  '(IF  2-^) ;  and  when 
he  says  again,  '  Because  Christ  also  sutfered  for 
sins  once,  the  righteous  for  the  unrighteous,  that 
he  might  bring  us  to  God'  (3'*)?  Is  it  not  tlie 
meaning  of  the  author  of  Hebrews  when  lie  finds 
in  the  sacrifices  of  the  Old  Covenant  types  and 
shadows  of  the  sacrifice  of  Christ,  and  speaks  of 
Him  as  '  having  been  once  offered  to  bear  the  sins 
of  many'  (9^)?  And  is  it  not  the  Johannine  view 
also,  seeing  that  yve  lind  '  Jesus  Christ  the  ri<»ht- 
eous'  described  as  'the  propitiation  for  our  sins, 
and  not  for  ours  only,  but  also  for  the  whole  world ' 
(1  Jn  -2-,  cf.  4'" ;  .see  also  Rev  P  5^  '•  >=)  ? 

(4)  Once  more,  the  death  of  Christ  is  set  forth  in 
the  Ei)n.  as  a  death  from  which  there  sprinf/s  a  life 
<;/■  hohiicss.  These  writers  relate  the  death  of 
Christ  to  the  power  as  well  as  to  the  guilt  of  sin ; 
they  conceive  of  it  not  only  on  the  .side  of  its  pro- 
pitiatoiy  efi'ect,  but  as  bringing  a  mighty  regene- 
rating influence  into  the  life  of  man.  St.  I'eter 
connects  the  sprinkling  of  the  blood  of  Jesus  Christ 
with  sanctification  of  the  Spirit  and  obedience  (1  I* 
1-'),  and  His  death  upon  the  tree  with  our  living 
unto  righteousness  (2-^).  The  author  of  Hebrews, 
who  says  that  Christ  offered  up  sacrilice  for  sins 
'  once  for  all,  when  he  offered  up  himself  (7-''),  also 
says  that  the  blood  of  Christ,  by  clean.sing  the 
conscience  from  dead  works,  sets  us  free  '  to  serve 
the  living  God'  (9").  St.  John,  viiliiiu  ..f  those 
who  are  already  Cliristians,  di'rhin  -  tlni  ilic  blood 
of  Jesus  Christ,  God's  Son,  cloan-i  th  tin  m  ticim  all 
sin  (1  Jn  1').  I3ut  it  is  above  all  in  the  Mpistles  of 
St.  Paul  that  we  lind  a  full  treatment  of  this  idea 
of  Christ's  deatli  a^  the  Miret  spring  of  a  new  life 
in  the  Christian  liiuisclf,  of  a  crucifixion  with 
Christ  whereliy  tlie  very  life  of  the  Son  of  God 
flows  into  the  heart  (Gal  2-») ;  of  a  burial  with 
Christ  wliich  leads  to  a  walk  in  newness  of  life, 
and  a  union  Avith  Him  by  a  likeness  to  His  death 
which  carries  with  it  the  ]>romise  and  the  potency 
of  a  likeness  to  His  resurrection  (l!o  6-^^). 

There  are  some  moilcrn  writers  who  in.sist  that 
there  is  a  duality  in  St.  Paul's  ^  iew  when  he  ap- 
])roaehes  the  subject  of  Christ's  death  in  its  rela- 
tion to  sin,  and  who  distinguish  between  what  they 
call  his  juridical  and  his  ethico-mystical  doctrines 
of  reconciliation.  The  former  is  sometimes  repre- 
sented as  nothing  more  than  the  precipitate  of  the 
Jewish  theology  in  which  the  Apostle  had  liceii 
trained,  while  the  latter  is  accepted  as  tlie  genuine 
and  immediate  product  of  his  personal  experieni  e 
(Holtzmann,  AT  Theologie,  ii.  117  f.).  The  com- 
mon tendency  among  such  writers  is  to  hold  that 
the  Apostle  had  two  quite  distinct  theories,  which 
lay  side  by  side  in  his  mind  in  an  entirely  un- 
related fashion.  He  set  himself,  it  is  supjiosed,  to 
the  high  argument  of  showing  how  God  and  man 
could  be  reconciled,  but  never  took  the  trouble  to 
attempt  to  reconcile  his  own  thoughts  about  the 
efficacy  of  Christ's  death.  This,  however,  seems 
less  than  just  to  St.  Paul.  His  theologj'  a-s  a  whole 
hardly  wan-ants  the  conclusion  that  lie  had  no  gift 
of  systematic  thinking,  or  that  he  would  be  con- 
tent to  allow  his  ideas  on  justitication  and  regenera- 
tion respectively  to  lie  together  in  his  mind  with- 
out concerning  himself  as  to  any  possible  connexion 
between  them.  It  seems  in  every  way  more  reason- 
able to  think,  for  example,  that  in  Ko  6'"-  the 
Ajiostlo  is  notsuddenly  introducing  a. set  of  entirely 
new  ((inceiitions,  connected  with  the  sacrament  of 
baptism,  alx)ut  a  mystical  fellow.ship  with  Christ 
in  His  death,  con.sidered  as  an  archetyjial  ilying 
unto  sin,  wliich  conceptions  stand  in  no  sort  of  rela- 
tion to  all  that  has  lieen  said  in  3-"'-  about  justili- 
cation   tliroujrh  faith  in  the   iiio]iitiatiiig  blood  of 


Christ.  Katlier  it  aupears  natural  to  hold,  in  I'ro- 
fessor  Denney's  words,  that  the  justifying  faith  of 
which  St.  Paul  speaks  in  the  earlier  passage  '  is  a 
faith  which  has  a  death  to  sin  in  it '  (Expositor,  6th 
ser.  iv.  [1901]  p.  306),  so  that  when  by  faith  we  make 
Christ's  death  our  own,  sin  becomes  to  us  what  it 
is  to  the  Sinless  One  Himself— we  died  to  it  as  He 
died,  and  in  dj-ing  to  sin  become  alive  unto  God. 


Dogmalik,  p.  446  ff.;  Expos.  Times,  xiv.  [1903]  1 

J.  C.  Lambert. 

DEBT,  DEBTOR.— The  Jews,  lieing  an  inland 
people,  and  not  directly  interested  in  the  world's 
trade,  were  slow  to  gain  touch  with  the  credit- 
systems  of  more  commercial  communities.  But 
by  Christ's  day  their  business  ideas,  modified 
already  in  part  by  the  Phoenicians,  are  seen  over- 
laid and  radically  affected  by  Koman  domination. 
The  people,  on  the  one  hand,  as  they  listened  to 
the  reading  of  the  Law  in  public,  had  the  OT  ideal 
before  them,  which  was  one  of  notable  mildness, 
backed  by  humanitarian  ordinances.  Debt  in 
their  old  national  life  had  been  regarded  as  a 
passing  misfortune,  rather  than  a  basal  element 
in  tradin"  conditions.  In  the  popular  mind  it  was 
associated  with  poverty  (Ex  22-"'),  a  thing  that 
came  upon  the  husbandman,  for  instance,  m  bad 
seasons  (Neh  5').  Being  thus  exceptional,  and  a 
subject  for  pity,  little  or  no  interest  was  to  be 
exacted  (Ex  22^),  and  a  strict  tarifl'  excluded  many 
things  from  the  list  of  articles  to  be  taken  in  pledge 
(Dt  24'^- ",  Job242,  Am  2^  etc.),  while  in  the  Seventh 
or  Fallow  year  (Ex  23>"""'',  Lv  25'""),  and  again 
amid  the  joys  of  Jubilee  (Lv25*"^-)i  the  poor  debtor 
had  ample  reason  to  rejoice.  There  was  harshness 
in  the  tone,  on  the  other  hand,  of  the  Koman 
methods,  which  were  developed  more  on  the  lines 
of  modern  commerce.  Often  the  more  impover- 
ished the  debtor,  the  greater  the  exaction,  as 
Horace  expressly  puts  it  (Sat.  I.  2.  14),  5  per  cent, 
a  month  (60  per  cent,  per  annum)  being  cited  by 
him  as  a  rate  of  interest  not  unknown. 

In  the  Gospels  we  have  suggestions  of  the 
money-customs  of  the  day  at  JIt  21'-"",  Mk  11""'", 
Lk  19«-«,  and  Jn  2i3-''.  There  are  pictures  of 
indebtedness  in  the  parables  of  the  Two  Debtors 
(Lk  7-""^=^),  the  Talents  (Mt  25'*"»'),  and  the  Pounds 
(Lk  19""^).  Lending  and  repaying  are  seen  in 
practice  at  Lk  6** ;  also  a  credit  system  at  Lk  16*"'', 
if  tlie  reference  there  be  to  merchants,  and  not 
simply  to  those  who  paid  rents  in  kind.  Imprison- 
ment for  debt  appears  in  Mt  5^"=* ;  and  in  un- 
mitigated form  in  the  story  of  the  Two  Creditors 
(Mt  18'-'"*>),  with  selling  into  slaverj-,  accompanied 
by  the  horror  of  'tormentors'  (v.**),  although  the 
whole  passage  is  to  be  interpreted  with  caution, 
because  Jesus  in  the  fancied  features  of  His  tale 
may  be  reflecting,  not  the  manners  of  His  o\ra 
land,  but  the  doings  of  some  distant  and  barbaric 
potentate.  Enough  that  in  the  time  of  Christ 
there  was  seizure  of  the  debtor's  person,  and  the 
general  treatment  of  liim  was  ciiiel. 

But  whatever  the  law  and  custom,  it  was  not 
the  manner  of  Jesus  to  attack  it.  Tlie  civil  code 
was  left  to  change  to  higher  forms  in  days  to 
come.  The  exhibition  of  a  certain  spirit  in  face 
of  it  was  what  His  heart  craved,  a  spirit  which 
should  do  justice  to  the  best  instincts  of  a  true 
humanity.  AVe  can  transcend  in  loving  ways  the 
nether  aims  even  of  bad  laws ;  and  it  was  the 
evasion  of  clear  duty  in  this  respect,  by  those  in 
the  high  places  of  the  religions  world,  which  moved 
Jesus  most.  He  was  the  champion  of  the  merciful 
essence  of  the  old  enactments  (ilt  5'"),  while  others 
around  Him,  prating  of  orthodoxy  the  while,  were 


DEBT,  DEBTOR 


DECAPOLIS 


435 


harsh  to  those  unfortunately  in  their  power  (Mt 
23"),  all  in  the  name  of  an  ancient  law  wliose  real 
inwardness  tliey  missed.  The  Sadducees,  whose 
love  of  money  was  whetted  by  enjoyment  of  the 
Temple  dues,  were  not  the  men  to  show  mercy  to  a 
debtor,  nor  were  the  Pharisees  behind  them,  more 
Puritanic  in  zeal,  and  rigidly  enforcing  the  letter 
of  their  writs.  '  An  eye  for  an  eye,  and  a  tooth 
for  a  tooth'  (MtS'"*),  as  an  old  catchword,  would 
infect  the  spirit  in  ^^•llicll,  in  the  name  of  'righteous- 
ness,' they  complacently  sued.  Jesus  lays  down 
no  outward  rules  such  as  might  bear  upon  the 
modem  business  world.  There  fair  and  sijuare 
dealing  must  be  a  lirst  jiostulatii ;  but,  in  the  light 
of  His  gospel,  men  should  be  keener  th.'in  they  are 
to  note  hardships,  and  their  hearts  warmer  towards 
cases  of  distress.  In  the  spirit  of  the  Golden  Rule 
(Mt  7'",  Lk  6^''^'')  merciful  dealings  will  show  them- 
selves in  undefined  ways  ;  and  the  love  of  brother- 
men  should  counteract  the  love  of  money  which 
prompts  to  stern  e.\actions  in  every  case  alilif. 
The  soul  saved  by  Christian  feeling  from  surdid 
views  of  life  adds  to  its  true  treasure  by  making 
the  circumstances  of  unfortunate  ones  an  exercise- 
ground  for  -tender,  pitying  grace.  The  metaphors 
of  Jesus  in  Mt  5'""^-  are  exceeding  bold,  and  the 
generous  treatment  there  inculcated  may  sound 
almost  incredible,  not  to  say  subversive  of  social 
order  ;  but  the  enlightened  heart  will  recognize  at 
once  the  kindly  and  sacrificing  sjiivit  meant  to  be 
strongly  emphasized.  The  dynamic  in  the  whole 
matter,  with  Jesus,  is  tlie  remembrance  of  tlie 
pitiful  nature  of  our  own  plight  before  (iod,  to 
whom  on  the  strict  requirements  of  law  we  are 
indebted  in  countless  ways.  The  more  this  inward 
situation  is  brought  home  to  us,  the  more  \\  c  sliall 
outwardly  be  comjiassionate  in  turn.  Here  (omo 
in  the  moral  grandeur  of  the  Beatitude  on  mcny 
(Mt  5'),  a  principle  which  melts  into  prayer  w  hen 
we  connect  it  with  the  tender  breathing  of  the 
Petition  on  forgiveness  (Mt  U'-).  The  Iiumble  and 
the  contrite  heart  holds  tlie  key  to  magnanimitj'. 
See,  further,  art.  '  Debt '  in  Hastings'  DB. 

Debtor.— There  remains  the  question  of  debt  as 
the  emblem  of  moral  short-coming  {6<pel\riij.a,  Mt 
6'^.  See  Lord'.s  Prayer),  and  the  Supreme 
Creditor's  way  with  men  in  this  regard,  especially 
as  depicted  in  certain  well-known  parables.  The 
image  is  natural  wliich  pictures  the  Deity  sitting 
like  a  civil  judge,  to  try  men  for  defavilts  ;  and 
while  some  think  more  of  the  majesty  of  the  law, 
and  what  must  be  exacted  to  satisfy  the  interests 
of  order,  others  love  to  dwell  on  the  prerogative  of 
mercy,  and  favour  judgments  which  are  ameli- 
orative as  well  as  punitive.  No  reader  of  the 
Gospels  can  fail  to  see  the  latter  characteristic 
strong  in  the  teaching  of  the  Master.  Pardon 
befits  the  royal  clemency,  .and  God  is  known  in 
the  kingdom  for  sovereign  displays  of  grace.  Yet 
due  weight  is  given  to  the  other  asjject  of  the 
image  also — the  satisfaction  of  the  law  ;  for  Jesus 
teaches  that  it  is  only  the  pure  in  heart  who  see 
God  (Mt  5") ;  the  holiness  that  avails  must  be 
inward,  not  that  of  the  legalist  (v.™),  and  only 
they  who  are  merciful  obtain  mercy  (v.').  But 
what  is  characteristic  in  the  Gospel  treatment  of 
the  subject  is  not  any  dwelling  upon  absolute 
judgments  —  these  are  left  to  the  Searcher  of 
Hearts ;  rather  we  are  taken  by  Jesus  to  the 
sphere  of  proximate  evidence,  and  shown  that  in 
the  individual  life  the  presence  or  absence  of  the 
forgiving  spirit  is  sure  token  of  the  presence  or 
absence  of  the  Divine  condescension  as  regards  the 
person  himself.  In  other  words,  principles  dis- 
covered in  the  relations  of  men  with  each  other 
are  n  fortiori  valid  for  their  relationship  to  God 
(Mt  6"-i=). 

The  elder  brother  of  the   Prodigal   (Lk  15^"'-) 


illustrates  the  point ;  representing  as  he  does  the 
Pharisaic  type  of  mind — common  in  all  ages  and 
pronouncedly  so  in  the  time  of  Jesus — which  com- 
placently fancies  itself  well  within  the  Kingdom, 
but  shows  by  its  harsh  attitude  to  fellow-mortals 
that  it  is  inwardly  not  right  with  God.  Tlie  elder 
brother  is  pictured,  not  without  point,  as  remain- 
ing outside  the  banquet-hall,  so  long  as  he  con- 
tinued in  his  implacable  mood. 

The  story  of  tlie  Two  Debtors  (Lk  7^"™)  shows 
the  vital  contrast  of  the  matter  in  the  persons  of 
the  Woman  who  was  a  Sinner— truly  gracious  in 
her  doings,  because  full  now  of  penitence  and  faith 
and  love — and  Sinion,  hide-bound  and  censorious 
like  his  class,  with  no  disciplined  sense  of  having 
been  humlilcd  like  her  before  God.  The  latter, 
like  the  tleljtor  of  the  trivial  fifty  pence,  had  little 
reaction  of  w  holesome  feeling  in  his  mind  ;  the 
former  had  manifestly  much,  like  the  man  over- 
joyed to  find  himself  relieved  from  a  financial  peril 
ten  times  greater.  This  is  a  concrete  instance 
of  the  method  of  the  Master.  Certain  visible  acts 
iif  the  woman  at  the  banquet  bespoke  the  inward 
action  of  God's  Spirit,  and  argued  a  state  of  recon- 
ciliation with  Him.  From  the  scanty  gracious- 
ness  of  Simon,  on  the  other  hand,  one  inferred 
just  as  truly  a  heart  imperfectly  attuned  to  good- 
ness, and  knowing  little  of  the  joy  of  pardon.  '  To 
whom  little  is  forgiven,  the  same  loveth  little' 
(v.'").  As  to  which  is  the  root  and  which  the 
fruit,  rival  systems  of  theology  may  battle ;  but 
tlie  fact  is,  the  two  graces  are  eternal  co-relatives, 
and  either  may  be  first  in  the  order  of  thought 
when  neither  is  entitleil  to  absolute  precedence  in 
fact.     See  FoRGlVENKSS. 

The  parable  of  the  Two  Creditors  (Mt  IS'-^-^s) 
shows  the  other  side  of  the  shield  from  the 
Woman's  case,  in  a  person  of  downright  in- 
humanity concerning  whom  it  is  equally  clear 
that  he  had  no  saving  experience  of  God's  mercy 
himself.  The  story,  as  a  story,  is  remarkable  for 
.simple  force  ;  we  feel  the  horror  of  the  implacable 
attitude  of  the  servant  forgiven  for  a  great  in- 
debtedness, who  failed  to  show  goodwill  in  turn 
to  a  subordinate  for  a  default  infinitely  less. 
Nemesis  descends  (v.**)  when  he  finds  he  is  not 
forgiven  after  all — he  loses  that  which  he  had 
seemed  to  have  (v.").  '  So  likewise  shall  my 
Heavenly  F.ather  do  also  unto  you,  if  ye  from 
your  hearts  forgive  not  every  one  his  brother 
their  trespasses '  (v.^*). 

Jesus  saw  many  around  Him  glorying  in  fancied 
privilege  and  veiy  zealous  for  the  Law,  yet  omitting 
its  essential  matters — justice,  mercy,  faith.  To 
.such  especially  this  Gospel  message  was  addressed  ; 
broadening  out  in  what  for  Him  was  the  supreme 
truth,  that  love  to  God  is  seen  and  tested  in  love 
to  man.  To  be  sympathetic,  sacrificing,  generous, 
is  not  only  the  pier  from  which  the  heavenward 
arch  springs,  but  the  pier  to  which  it  returns. 
The  forgiving  God  cannot  possibly  be  seen  in  those 
who  hide  tliemselves  from  their  own  flesh  (Lk  6^). 

Literature. —Besides  art.  '  Debt '  in  Hastings'  DB,  tlie  Comm. 
on  tile  passages  referred  to,  and  tlie  standard  works  on  tlie 
Paraiiles,  the  following  may  be  consulted :— Edersheim,  Lijto 
and  Times,  ii.  p.  268ff. ;  Sc'hiirer,  HJPu.  1.  362 f. ;  Expositor, 
I.  vi.  [1877)  p.  214  ff.  ;  Ker,  Serm.  Istser.  p.  ICff. 

George  Murray. 
DECAPOLIS.— A  league  of  ten  Greek  cities  (7 
Ae/tdTToXis)  in  eastern  Palestine,  which  was  pro- 
bably formed  at  the  time  of  I'diiipi-v's  inv.isiun  of 
Palestine,  64-63  B.C.  By  the  ( Jr.rk'.  ii  1,-.  I'..nipey 
w.as  hailed  as  a  deliverer  from  ili''  .Irwi-li  y.ike, 
and  many  towns  elevated  Pompcy'.-.  caiiip;iij;n  to 
the  dignity  of  an  era.  The  co'ins  of  Gadara, 
Canatha,  Pella,  Dion,  and  Philadelphia  use  the 
Pompeian  era.  At  first  the  league  must  have 
comprised  just   ten   cities.      According  to   Pliny 


436 


DECAPOLIS 


DECEIT,  DECEPTION,  GUILE 


{HN\.  IS),  these  were  Scvthopolis(iJeM(l?i)>  Hipiios 
(Siisieh),  Gadara  ({■•»(  ;«^  Kcis),  Pella  {Fahil),  Phila- 
delphia {'Animati),  Gerasa  (Jer&sh),  Dion,  Canatha 
(Kanaw('tt),  Damascus,  ami  Raphana.  The  forma- 
tion of  a  confederation  of  Greek  cities  in  the  midst 
of  a  Semitic  population  was  necessary  for  the  pre- 
servation of  Hellenic  civilization  and  culture. 
From  the  days  of  Alexander  the  Great,  who  sought 
to  Hellenize  the  Orient  by  founding  Greek  cities 
throughout  the  conquered  lands,  there  were  Greek 
cities  in  Palestine.  The  Seleucid  kings  of  Antioch 
and  the  Ptolemies  encouraged  the  immigration  of 
Greeks  into  this  region.  Among  the  cities  occu- 
pied before  198  B.C.  by  the  incoming  Greeks  were 
Pella,  Dion,  Philadelphia,  Gad.ara,  and  Abila  in 
the  region  east  of  the  Jordan.  Hipjios  and  Gerasa 
are  first  named  in  the  early  jiart  of  the  1st  cent. 
B.C.  (Jos.  BJl.  iv.  8).  Among  tlie  citios  liberated 
by  Pompey  from  the  Jewish  yoke,  Hippos,  Stytho- 
polis,  and  Pella  are  expressly  named  ;  and  Gadara, 
which  had  been  destroyed  by  the  Jews,  was  rebuilt 
{BJ  I.  vii.  7).  Pompey  annexed  these  cities  to 
the  province  of  Syria,  but  conferred  upon  them 
municipal  freedom.  All  the  cities  of  the  Decapolis 
had  in  the  Koiii.in  jierind  the  rights  of  coinage  and 
asylum,  and  were  allowed  to  maintain  a  league  for 
defence  against  tlieir  common  foes. 

The  first  references  in  literature  to  the  Deca)>olis 
are  found  in  the  Gospels.  On  our  Lord's  first 
journey  through  all  Galilee,  He  was  attended  by 
crowds  from  all  parts  of  Palestine,  among  whom 
were  persons  from  Decapolis  (Mt  4-*).  Most  likely 
these  were  Jews,  who  formed  a  considerable  part 
of  the  population  even  in  Greek  cities.  The  fierce 
Gerasene  demoniac,  whom  our  Lord  healed,  pub- 
lished in  the  Decapolis  what  things  Jesus  had  done 
for  him  (Mk  5™).  The  presence  of  two  thousand 
swine  on  the  eastern  .shores  of  the  Lake  of  Galilee 
would  of  itself  suggest  the  presence  of  a  Gentile 
population  in  that  vicinity.  When  our  Lord  re- 
turned from  Tyre  and  Sidon  to  the  Sea  of  Galilee, 
He  crossed  the  upper  Jordan  and  jiassed  south 
through  the  district  governed  by  the  tetrarch 
Philip  to  the  eastern  shore  of  the  Lake.  In  order 
to  reach  the  Sea  of  Galilee,  He  went  '  through  the 
midst  of  the  borders  of  Decapolis '  (Mk  7"').  Hippos 
lay  just  east  of  the  Lake,  Gadara  a  few  miles  to 
the  south-east,  and  in  full  view  from  the  southern 
end ;  Pella  and  Scythopolis  were  not  far  to  the 
.south  ;  while  the  other  cities  of  the  Decapolis  lay 
to  the  north-east,  east,  and  south-east  of  the  Lake. 
Our  Lord  visited  the  Jewish  population  of  Per.xa 
in  His  later  ministry,  but  He  seems  never  to  have 
made  a  tour  to  the  great  cities  of  the  Decajjolis. 
His  rebuff  in  connexion  with  the  destruction  of  tlie 
herd  of  swine  was  rather  discouraging  (Mk  5"). 

Two  famous  writers  of  the  latter  part  of  the  1st 
cent.  A.D.  speak  of  the  Decapolis.  Pliny  not  only 
preserves  the  names  of  the  ten  cities  {HN  v.  18), 
but  also  praises  the  small  olives  of  the  region  (IS''). 
Josephus  refers  to  Decapolis  repeatedly.  In  the 
2nd  cent.  A.D.  Ptolemy  (v.  xv.  2-2)  names  eighteen 
towns  as  belonging  to  the  league  of  Decapolis. 
He  omits  Raphana  from  Pliny's  list,  and  adds  nine, 
most  of  the  new  members  of  the  confederation  be- 
longing to  the  district  just  south  of  Damascus.  In 
his  day  Hellenic  civilization  and  commerce  in  the 
region  beyond  the  Jordan  were  at  their  zenith. 
The  modem  traveller,  wandering  over  the  ruins  of 
temples,  theatres,  and  baths  at  Gerasa,  Phila- 
delpnia,  and  Gadara,  is  impressed  with  the  glories 
of  the  Grecian  life  in  Palestine  during  the  period  of 
our  Lord's  earthly  ministry  and  for  some  centuries 
afterwards. 

LiTERATFRE.— Schiirer,  BJP  ii.  i.  94  ft.  •  G.  A.  Smith,  IJdBL 
593ft.;  G.  Holscher,  Paliistina  in  der  pers.  «.  hellm.  Xeit; 
Schumacher,  Across  the  Jordan ;  Merrill,  Hast  of  the  Jordan. 

John  K.  Sampev. 


DECEIX,  DECKPTION,  GUILE. 


2.  Pfleiderer  in  Early  Christian  Conception  of 
Christ  (1905)  devotes  a  chapter  to  the  subject  of 
Christ  as  the  Conqueror  of  Satan — 'that  old  ser- 
pent, called  the  Devil,  which  deccivcth  the  whole 
world'  (Rev  12').  His  aim  is  to  find  parallels  to 
Christ  in  various  nature  myths  and  heathen  re- 
ligions, and  by  so  doing  to  explain  the  Gospel  story 
as  only  a  special  embodiment  of  a  universal  ten- 
dency. While  rejecting  Pfleiderer's  theory,  we 
admit  that  one  of  the  most  suggestive  aspects 
under  which  the  life  of  our  Lord  may  be  considered 
is  to  regard  it  as  a  deadly  conflict  between  the 
Divine  Representative  of  the  Truth,  and  the 
instruments  and  agents  of  the  spirit  of  deception 
and  guile.  Such  a  conflict  was  inevitable.  The 
coming  of  One  who  had  the  right  to  say,  '  I  am  the 
light  of  the  world,'  '  I  am  the  truth  ' ;  '  every  one 
that  is  of  the  truth  heareth  my  voice'  (Jn8"  14'''l8""'}, 
was  bound  to  stir  into  bitter  hostility  all  the  forces 
of  untruth  and  craft.  The  antagonism  is  set  forth 
in  universal  terms  in  Jn  3""='.  At  every  stage  of 
the  Divine  drama  we  see  that  those  'who  loved 
darkness  rather  than  light ' — the  men  of  perverted 
mind  and  crooked  ways— turned  from  Jesus  with 
aversion  and  sought  His  destruction.  The  whole 
.significance  of  the  struggle  may  be  said  to  have 
been  summed  up  and  .symbolized  in  our  Lord's 
conflict  with  the  Pliarisees.  Their  hostility  to 
Him  began  in  x,  /f'-Jrr.-pfion.  Wedded  to  their 
own  ideus  uml  siamlaid  of  character  and  duty, 
they  resent  I '.1  His  dacliing.  They  could  not  con- 
ceive the  possiliility  of  a  revision  of  life  in  the 

;ht  of  a  larger  and  nobler  ideal  of  righte 


But  the  vision  of  moral  beauty  must  either  capti- 
vate or  blind.  Before  long  the  Pharisees  brought 
down  on  themselves  the  severest  denunciations  for 
their  moral  obtuseness,  duplicity,  and  hj-pocrisy 
(Mt  23,  Jn  8'=-=»).  The  estrangement  was  com- 
plete. To  destroy  Jesus  they  now  'plumed  up 
their  wills  in  douole  knavery '  (lago).  In  almost 
every  glimpse  we  get  of  them  they  are  moving  in 
a  murky  atmosphere  of  craft,  intrigue,  and  hate. 
They  do  not  hesitate  to  resort  to  every  artifice  and 
stratagem  which  unscruijulous  cunning  could  sug- 
gest. They  endeavour,  by  subtle  questions,  to 
entangle  Him  in  His  talk  (Mt  22'=) ;  they  attempt 
to  deceive  the  people  as  to  His  true  character  (Mk 
3"-^,  Jn  9-^) ;  they  plot  together  as  to  how  He 
may  be  put  to  death  (Jn  IP^) ;  they  enter  into  a 
covenant  with  Judas  to  betray  Him  (Mt  26'^- 1») ; 
they  set  up  false  witnesses,  and  pervert  and  mis- 
represent His  teaching  (Mt  26«'-«=,  Lk  23').  It  was 
by  deceit  and  guile  that  they  obtained  Pilate's 
permission  to  crucify  Him  (Jn  19'"). 

3.  We  gain  a  heightened  impression  of  their 
character  and  conduct  by  contrast.  While  the 
men  of  deception  and  guile  hated  the  Light,  we 
see  another  class  attracted  by  it.  From  the  be- 
ginning of  His  ministry,  Jesus  drew  to  Himself  the 
sincere,  the  childlike,  the  men  of  '  honest  and  good 
heart'  (Lk  8").  The  first  Apostles  of  the  Lord 
were  by  no  means  exempt  from  serious  faults  and 
frailties  of  character ;  but,  with  the  exception  of 
Judas,  they  were  singularly  honest  and  upright 
men  ;  men  with  a  genuine  enthusiasm  for  goodness. 
One  of  them  drew  from  Jesus  on  His  first  approach 
the  suggestive  exclamation,  '  Behold  an  Israelite 
indeed,  in  whom  is  no  guile '  (.In  l").  In  the 
teaching  and  training  of  these  first  Apostles  and 
disciples,  our  Lord  especially  emphasized  the  neces- 
sity of  those  virtues  of  character  in  which  the 


DECREE 


DELIVERANCE 


437 


Pliarisees  were  so  singularly  delicient  (Mt  5^  7'"' 
10"=  1125  i83_  Li^.  121-3).  In  this  connexion  it  is  of 
vital  importance  to  bear  in  mind  Mt  6---  -^.  There 
are  various  degrees  and  stages  of  deception  and 
guile,  beginning  with  over-intellectual  refinement, 
and  passing  finally  into  deliberate  fraud  and 
treachery.  But  in  every  case  it  means  the  lack 
of  the  '  single  eye,'  of  perfect  sincerity,  and 
simplicity  of  nature.  And,  therefore,  if  Christian 
men  and  women  are  to  keep  themselves  free,  not 
merely  from  'fleshly  lusts,'  but  also  from  the  more 
subtle  forms  of  'spiritual  \\dckedness,'  they  must 
be  continually  testing  and  reviewing  their  ideals 
and  conceptions  of  character  and  conduct  in  the 
light  of  their  Master's  life  and  teaching.  Unless 
they  do  this,  the  light  that  is  in  them  will  turn  to 
darkness. 

*  There  is,  I  believe,'  says  Bisiiop  Gore,  '  nothinjj  to  which  in 
our  time  attention  needs  to  be  called  more  than  to  the  fact  that 
conscience  is  only  a  famltij  for  knowing  God  and  His  will.  It 
is  certain,  unless  it  is  educated,  to  give  wrong  information. 
And  the  way  to  educate  it  is  to  put  it  to  school  with  the  *^  Liijht 
of  the  world."  Alas  !  there  must  be  multitudes  of  respectable 
and  self-enlightened  people  of  whom  it  is  true  that  the  light 
which  is  in  them  is  darkness '(7'Ae  Sermoji  on  the  Mount,  p. 
147).  The  testimony  of  the  late  Dr.  Dale  is  not  less  emphatic. 
'  I  doubt  whether  most  of  those  who  have  been  formed  by  the 
faith  and  traditions  of  the  Evangelical  mo\  ement  are  sufBciently 
impressed  by  the  necessity  of  educating  the  conscience.  .  .  . 
This  partly  explains  how  it  is  that  some  Christian  people  are 
worse  men — morally — than  some  who  are  not  Christians.  The 
faculty  of  conscience  requires  a  great  deal  of  education  if  we 
are  to  distinguish  between  the  right  and  the  wrong  in  all  the 
details  of  life  '  {The  Emngelical  Rem  ml,  p.  98). 

IjIteratore.— In  addition  to  the  books  already  referred  to, 
the  reader  may  consult  Newman  Smvth,  Christian  Ethics ; 
Prof.  Knight,  The  Christian  Ethic ;  F.'  D.  Maurice,  The  Con- 
science and  Social  Morality ;  J.  R.  lUingworth,  Christian 
Character;  H.  Wace,  Christianitji  and  Morality,  R.  W. 
Church,  Discipline  of  the  Christian  Character. 

Arthur  Jenkinson. 
DECREE  (Gr.  56-yMa,"  Lk  2').— In  the  Gospel  of 
Luke,  the  birth  of  Jesus  at  Bethlehem  is  traced  to 
the  fact  that  a  census  of  the  people  of  Israel  was 
being  taken,  which  made  it  necessary  that  Joseph 
and  Mary,  who  were  both  of  Davidic  descent, 
should  go  up  from  their  home  at  Nazareth  to  the 
City  of  David.  This  census  was  brought  about  by 
the  issue  of  a  decree  of  Cjesar  Augustus,  that  the 
Roman  world  should  be  taxed  or  registered.  His- 
torians find  much  to  question  here  as  to  St.  Luke's 
accuracy.  Was  it  likely  that  Herod's  independent 
kingdom  would  be  included  in  such  a  decree  ?  Is 
there  any  evidence  that  such  an  order  on  so 
great  a  scale  was  then  issued  ?  As  to  Cyrenius 
[Quirinius],  in  whose  governorship  of  Syria  this 
census  is  said  to  have  taken  place,  can  it  be 
proved  that  he  was  twice  governor  of  Syria  ?  He 
was  governor,  some  10  years  later,  when  the  cen- 
sus took  place,  which  caused  the  rebellion  under 
Judas  of  Galilee,  in  760  A.u.c.  The  researches 
of  Wieseler,  Zumpt,  and  W.  M.  Ramsay  (Was 
Christ  born  at  Bethlehem ?)  have  shown,  however, 
that  St.  Luke's  statement  is  capable  of  a  good 
defence,  and  may  turn  out  to  have  full  corrobora- 
tion. Such  a  plain  historical  note,  put  in,  with 
evident  intention,  by  St.  Luke,  we  should  be  slow 
to  reject  from  one  who  is  generally  so  well  in- 
formed. See  Augustus,  Birth  of  Christ,  Quir- 
inius. David  M.  W.  Laird. 

DEDICATION,  FEAST  OF  (ra  ^7/iaiVia).— This 
Feast  was  kept  by  the  Jews  on  25  Chislev  and 
throughout  the  week  following.  The  dedication 
commemorated  in  it  was  the  dedication  of  a  new 
altar  by  Judas  Maecaba;us  in  li.C.  164  (1  Mac 
436-59^  2  Mac  IQi-s,  Jos.  Ant.  xil.  vii.  6,  7).  The 
old  altar  of  Zerubbabel's  temple  had  been  defiled 
in  B.C.  167,  when  'an  abomination  of  de.solation' 
was  erected  upon  it  (1  Mac  1"),  and  the  climax 
was  reached  on  25  Chislev,  when  sacrifices  were 
offered  upon  this  idol-altar  standing  on  the  altar  of 


God  (v.=').  For  tliree  years  this  state  of  profana- 
tion had  continued,  but  when  the  third  anniversary 
of  the  desecration  came  round,  the  heroic  efforts  of 
Judas  MaccabiEus  and  his  companions  had  reached 
such  success  that  they  were  able  to  cleanse  the 
Holy  Place  and  to  set  up  a  new  altar  in  place  of 
that  which  had  been  defiled,  spending  a  week  in 
special  services  for  its  dedication ;  and,  in  order 
to  commemorate  this,  Judas  Maccabeus  ordained 
'that  the  days  of  the  dedication  of  the  altar  should 
be  kept  in  their  seasons  from  year  to  year  by  the 
space  of  eight  days,  from  the  five  and  twentieth 
day  of  the  month  Chislev,  with  gladness  and  joy ' 
(1  kac  4»^). 

The  Feast  is  mentioned  once  in  the  Gospels  (Jn 
10--)  as  the  occasion  of  a  collision  between  our 
Lord  and  the  Jews  in  the  temple,  when  He  made 
the  claim,  '  I  and  the  Father  are  one,'  and  the  Jews 
took  up  stones  to  stone  Him.  The  occasion  of  the 
incident  is  full  of  significance.  When  the  Holy 
Place  was  being  cleansed  in  B.C.  164,  the  question 
had  arisen  as  to  how  the  old  altar  ought  to  be 
treated,  seeing  that  it  had  suffered  from  heathen 
pollution,  and  the  conclusion  reached  was  that  it 
should  not  be  used  any  more,  but  a  new  one  dedi- 
cated in  its  place,  and  that  the  old  one  should  be 
pulled  down  and  its  stones  stored  in  a  convenient 
place  'until  there  should  come  a  prophet  to  give 
an  answer  concerning  them '  (1  Mac  4*'"''^).  On  the 
anniversary  of  this  event,  some  two  centuries  later, 
there  stood  Christ  in  the  temple  courts,  and  in 
effect,  though  not  in  so  many  words,  the  question 
was  actually  put  to  Him  whether  He  was  the 
prophet  foretold.  '  How  long  dost  thou  hold  us  in 
suspense  ?,'  they  asked,  '  If  thou  art  the  Christ,  tell 
us  plainly'  (Jn  10^).  It  was,  indeed,  a  fitting 
occasion  on  which  to  raise  the  question,  since  the 
whole  Festival  breathed  hopes  connected  with  the 
national  deliverance  of  Maccaba;an  times,  looking 
forward  to  another  deliverance  in  the  future  such 
as  would  come  with  the  Messiah.  Unhappily  the 
questioners  were  not  sincere,  and  would  not  receive 
the  testimony  of  our  Lord,  not  even  when  He  re- 
ferred them  to  His  works  as  proving  His  claims ; 
and  so  the  matter  ended  where  it  began.  Had 
they  listened,  they  would  have  found  the  Deliverer 
whom  they  were  expecting,  and  incidentally  also 
they  would  have  learned  the  solution  of  the  old 
difficulty  about  the  stones  of  the  desecrated  altar — 
that  these  might  lie  where  they  were,  being  needed 
no  more,  for  there  was  being  dedicated  another 
Temple  to  supersede  the  old  (cf.  Jn  2'»). 

It  is  not  quite  clear  how  much  of  St.  John's  nar- 
rative belongs  to  Dedication,  whether  the  incidents 
of  Jn  O'-IO-'  happened  then,  or  whether  they 
belong  to  the  Feast  of  Tabernacles  (7-).  These  two 
Feasts  had  much  in  common ;  in  fact,  it  appears 
that  Dedication  was  to  some  extent  modelled  on 
"Tabernacles  (2  Mac  lO'',  cf.  P).  In  particular,  the 
ritual  of  both  included  a  special  illumination,  which 
was  so  marked  at  Dedication  that,  according  to 
Josephus  [Ant.  xil.  vii.  7),  the  Festival  was  actually 
called  'Lights.'  In  either  case,  therefore,  there  is 
special  point  in  our  Lord's  announcement  in  Jn  9° 
'  I  am  the  light  of  tlie  world,'  in  which  He  pointed 
to  the  brilliant  illuminations  of  the  Temple  and 
Jerusalem  generally,  \\Iietlier  at  Tabernacles  or 
Dedication,  and  claimed  that,  while  these  lamps 
and  candles  made  the  city  full  of  light,  He  Himself 
was  giving  light  to  the  whole  world. 

Literature.  —  Art.  '  Dedication '  in  Hastings'  DB  and  in 
Encyc.  Bibl.;  Schvirer,  BJP  I.  i.  217  f.;  Edersheim,  Life  arid 
Times  of  Jesus  the  Messiah,  ii.  226,  The  Temple,  333  ff. 

C.  E.  Garrad. 
DEFILEMENT See  Purification. 

DELIVERANCE  (<S06<r«).-The  English  word  does 
not  occur  in  the  (jo.spels,  except  in  a  quotation 


438 


DELR'ERA^^CE 


DEMON,  r)E:\IOXIACS 


from  the  OT  (see  beluw),  Imt  the  Or.  word  is  found 
8  times  (in  Mt  26-\  Mk  V.  Lk  3=  1"  24-"  it  is 
rendered  '  remission  '  [of  sins] ;  in  Mk  3^  '  for^'ive- 
ness ' ;  in  Lk  4'*  '"^  {a)  ■  deliverance '  [AV],  '  release ' 
[RV],  (6)  [to  set]  'at  liberty');  while  the  fact  of 
deliverance  underlies  all  that  is  recorded  of  Jesus, 
and  has  coloured  the  entire  thought  of  Christianity. 
To  think  of  Christ  is  to  think  of  Him  as  Saviour. 
In  such  utterances  as  '  The  Son  of  Man  is  come  to 
save  that  which  was  lost'  (Mt  18^').  and  '  the  Son 
of  Man  is  not  come  to  destroy  men's  lives,  but  to 
save  them  '  (Lk  9*''),  we  have  the  keynote  of  Christ's 
mission.     He  sounds  it  in   the  beginning  when. 


preach  deliverance  to  captives.'  His  days  are 
passed  in  saving  men  from  every  slavery  that 
binds  them  to  the  transient.  This  is  at  the  root 
of  all  His  acts  of  deliverance — even  the  healings. 
Wlien  He  gives  physical  renewal  to  the  lame,  the 
diseased,  the  dumb,  the  blind,  the  paralyzed,  it  is 
always  that  they  may  the  easier  find  spiritual 
perfection.  Moral  and  spiritual  deliverance  are 
often  associated  with  a  bodily  purification — greatly 
to  the  confusion  of  contemporary  traditionalists. 
They  are  astonished  that  He  should  say  to  the  one 
sick  of  the  palsy,  '  Thy  sins  be  forgiven  thee '  (Mk 
2'),  or  to  the  leper,  '  Thy  faith  hath  made  thee 
whole'  (Lk  17'').  In  the  typical  prayer  taught  to 
His  disciples  there  is  no  word  about  life's  miseries, 
poverty,  or  pain :  the  petition  is  simply  '  Deliver 
us  from  evil '  (Mt  6'',  Lk  II'') :  the  soul's  need  being 
eternal  outweighs  the  need  of  mind  and  body. 
And  we  can  hardly  doubt  that,  as  He  looked  upon 
that  long  and  sad  procession  of  the  bodily  wrecks 
that  came  to  Him  '  at  even'  (Mk  P=),  the  heart  of 
the  Missioner  in  Christ  was  kindled  by  the  vision 
of  souls  that  would  be  set  free  to  fulfil  better  their 
purpose  of  life  when  the  numbed  or  tortured  body 
was  given  rest  and  cure.  Conscious  of  the  neces- 
sities of  daily  life,  He,  better  than  all  others, 
knows  how  temporary  they  are,  and  lifts  His  voice 
continually  against  the  soul's  voluntary  bondage 
to  things  material.  '  Seek  ye  first  the  kingdom  of 
God  '  (Lk  12^') ;  '  Lay  up  treasure  in  heaven  '  (Mt 
6-°) ;  '  Beware,  and  keep  yourselves  from  covetous- 
ness '  (Lk  12") ;  '  If  thou  wouldst  be  perfect,  go, 
sell  that  thou  hast,  and  give  to  the  poor  .  .  .  and 
come,  follow  me'  (Mt  19-')— .such  phrases  indicate 
the  deliverance  from  the  world  and  its  anxieties 
which  culminates  in  the  invitation  of  Jesus — '  Come 
unto  me  .  .  .  and  I  will  give  you  rest'  (Mt  11^). 

The  highest  of  the  self-chosen  titles  ring  with 
deliverance.  Jesus  calls  Himself  the  Good  Shep- 
herd, who  will  even  give  His  life  for  the  sheep  (Jn 
10") ;  He  is  the  Way,  the  Truth,  and  the  Life  (14"'), 
leading  from  earth  and  time  to  heaven  and  eter- 
nity ;  He  is  the  Light  of  the  World  (8'-),  to  bring 
all  wanderers  safely  from  darkness  and  danger  to 
light  and  safety.  The  Christian  Church  has 
always  read  in  His  titles,  His  words,  and  His 
actions  this  moral  and  spiritual  significance. 
ClirLst  has  been,  and  is,  the  Saviour  of  men  from 
sin  and  evil  rather  than  from  pain  and  suffering. 
See  FoEGiVEXESS.  E.  D.^plyn. 

A  TAN.  c    --M1I0N,  DEMONIACAL  POSSESSION,  DEMO- 

NIACS.-1.  The  denionology  of  tlie  Gospels  is  based 
upon  beliefs  which  were  oirrent  among  the  Jews 
preWous  to  the  time  of  Christ ;  these  beliefs  arose 
gradually,  and  were  ultimately  stereotyped  in  tlic 
Talmud.  For  the  proper  understanding  of  Gospel 
demonology  some  insight  into  these  Jewish  beliefs 
is  indispensable.  But  the  demonology  of  the  Jews 
•was  profoundly  influenced  and  coloured,  at  differ- 
ent times,  by  Babylonian,  Egyptian,  Persian,  and 
Greek  teaching  on  the  subject,  while  the  beliefs  of 
these  highly  cultured  peojjles  were  developments  of 


the  nmch  earlier  conceptions  of  man  in  a  very  nmch 
lower  stage  of  civilization,  —  conceptions  which 
are  practically  universally  prevalent  among  savage 
races  at  the  present  day.  To  deal  with  the  subject, 
therefore,  in  all  its  bearings  would  be  impossible 
liere  ;  it  must  sutfice  to  give  references  to  a  few  of 
the  many  works  which  deal  with  the  different 
branches' of  tliis  vast  subject.  Details  of  Jewish 
demonology  must,  however,  be  given,  for  it  will  be 
seen  that  they  are  necessary  for  a  proper  under- 
standing of  Gospel  demonology ;  added  to  these 
will  be  found  some  few  references  to  the  earlier 
beliefs  upon  which  they  are  based. 
For  the  beliefs  of  primitive  man— 

Maurj-,  La  Magie  et  I'Asirolo'jie  dans  I'antiqttite  et  ow  moyen- 
dge,  Paris,  1857 ;  Frazer,  The  Gohlcii  Viiugh  'J,  ch.  iii.  passhn. 
LoiidOD,  1900  ;  Lant^,  The  Making  vj  Jieligion-,  ch.  viL,  London, 
1900;  Tyler,  Fruuiliit-  Culiurf,  ch.  xiv.  etc.,  but  the  whole 
work  should  be  studied.  Cf.  Rtville's  Hist,  of  Religions,  chs. 
iii.-W.,  London,  1564.^ 
For  Assyro-Babylonian  beliefs- 
Budge,  Assyrian  Incantations  to  Fire  and  Water,  London, 
1S83  ;  Hommel,  Gesch.  Bab.  uyui  Ass.  pp.  237-269,  388  ff.,  Berlin, 
1885 ;  Jastrow,  Die  Rel.  Bab.  u)id  Ass.  ch.  xvi.,  Giessen,  1902  ff. 
[this  is  enlar^'ed  from  the  Eiilt.  tr.] ;  k.  3GX&xaas,  Das  AT  im 


Lick 


:  des 


King,  Babi; 
Religiu 


IL.  London,  1S99 ;  Lenormont, 
,^  origines  accadiennes,  Paris, 
i5(i);  Hayce, //  ,  London,  18S7;Stiibe, »/«dwcA- 

babylonische  Aanotriexur,  iiaiie,  1&95.  Many  indirect  points  of 
importance  will  be  found  in  Balls  Light  from  the  £os(,  London, 
1899 ;  Morgenstern,  '  Doctr.  of  Sin  in  the  Bab.  Rel."  in  MittheiL 
der  vorderasiat,  Gesettsch.  iii.,  1905;  Weber,  *  Damonenbesch- 
worung  bei  den  Bab.  und  Assyr.'  in  Der  Alte  Orient,  vii.  4, 
Leipzig,  1906. 
Forcgyptian  beliefs- 
Budge,  Egiiptian  ilagic,  ch.  vii.,  London,  1899;  Ed.  Meyer, 
Gesch.  des  alteii  Aegyptens,  ch.  iii.,  Berlin,  1887 ;  Wiedemann, 

*  Magie  und  Zauberei  ira  alten  Aegypten,"  in  Der  alte  Orient, 
vi.  4,  Leipzig,  1905,  cf.  also,  by  same  author,  and  in  same  series, 
iii.  4,  •  Die  Unterhaltungslit.  der  alten  Aegypter." 

For  Persian  beliefs— 

Darmesteter,  The  Zf m(..l ifsta (Part  i.  'The  Vendidid'),  Far- 
gard  xix.,  xxi. ;  Geiger,  Ostiranische  Kiiltur  im  Alterlhnm,  5  38, 
Erlangen,  1SS2;  Haug,  A\s><(,/^  t^/t  th>: . barred  Langua'te,  Writings 
and  ReWJionof  the  farsiy-  (ti.  by  E.  H.  Wtst),  London,  1SS4; 
Spiegel, Eranische Attrrt/n' n'.^\-ini<i, ,  \oi,  ii.,  Leij-zii;,  1S71-1S78; 
Stave,  Ueberden  Eiiijliisi  d.s  /■a.^"nn,.a'i/dasJtidenthum, 
Haarlem,  1898  [sec  especially  thi'  thint  division,  §54,  6.  A  most 
helpful  book  on  this  particular  branch  of  the  subject  J ;  Windisch- 
mann,  Zoroastrische  Studien,  pp.  138-148,  Berlin,  1863. 

For  Greek  beliefs— 

Gruppe,  Die  Griechischen  Cidte  und  Jlgthen  .  .  .,  i.  pp.  184- 
196,  Leipzig,  1887;  Maury,  Bist.  des  Religions  de  la  Grice 
antifiue,  i.  pp.  665-5S1,  ii.  pp.  91-93,  ill.  pp.  419-443,  Paris,  1S57; 
Preller,  Griechische  Mythologies  under  'Daemonen,*  Berlin, 
18^7;  Roscher,  Lexikon  der  Gr.   und  Rom.  ilythologic,  art. 

*  Daimon '  [where  full  literature  on  the  subject  Is  givenl.Leipzig, 
1SS4,  etc.  See  also  Lobeck,  A'd::aphaniiis,  pp.  695,  696,  1092, 
Berlin,  1829. 

For  a  resume  of  Babylonian,  Egyptian,  Persian,  and  Greek 
influence  on  Jewish  demonology,  see  the  remarkably  able  series 
of  articles  by  K.  C.  Conybcare  in  JQR  viii.  ix.  (1896,  1897).  See 
also  Encyc.  Bibl.  art.  '  Demons,'  §§  7,  11. 

2.  The  Old  Testa.ment.— The  demonology  of 
the  OT  is  probably  somewhat  more  complex  than 
is  sometimes  assumed.t  The  analogy  of  other 
races  ■v:o\x\d  prima  facie  support  the  inference  that 
the  Israelites  also  had  their  beliefs  in  demons  (see 
Literature  below).  Much  weight  cannot  be  laid 
on  the  (not  frequent)  occurrence  of  da.l)j.uv  and  5ai- 
/lAwoc  in  the  LXX,  as  they  stand  for  varying  words 
in  the  original ;  but  there  are  a  number  of  Hebrew 
expressions  which  must  be  connected  with  demons, 
at  all  events  as  far  as  the  popular  imagination  Avas 
concerned ;  these  are :  n^jT  nn  '  e\Tl  spirit,  Jg  9^, 
1  S  16'*;  C'viy  nn  'spirit  of  perver.seness,'  Is  ig'-"; 
cn»  '  demons','  Dt  32",  Ps  106" ;  Dl'y?-  '  satyrs,'  Lv 
17',  Is  13='  34'*;  aajj  'destruction,'  conceived  of  as 
due  to  demoniac  power,  see  the  whole  verse,  Ps 
91'';  "iT^K;  'female  blood-sucker,'  Pr  30";  n-S-S 
'  night-hag,'  Is  34'»-  '■* ;  hm]s.,,  Lv  1&«-  '  Azazel,'  a 
desert  spirit.     This    last  instance  clearly  shows 

*  There  are  a  number  of  works  on  Comparative  Religion  in 
which  the  beliefs  in  demons  and  the  like  are  incidentally  dealt 
with  ;  but  a  detailed  list  of  these  would  be  inappropriate  here. 

t '  It  is  singular  that  the  OT  is  so  free  from  demonology, 
hardly  containing  more  than  one  or  two  examples  thereof 
(F.  C.  Conybeare,  toe.  cit.  above). 


DEMON,  DEMONIACS 


DEMON,  DEMONIACS 


439 


how  lirmly  embedded  in  popular  imagination  was 
this  belief  in  evil  powers  of  tlie  solitude.*  T(  is 
true  that  Babylonian  influence  during  and  after 
the  Exile  was  responsible  for  much  of  this ; t  but 
that  the  Israelites  from  the  earliest  times,  like 
every  other  race,  peopled  the  world  with  innumer- 
able unseen  powers,  cannot  admit  of  doubt.  Ac- 
cording to  OT  conceptions,  the  evil  spirits  are  not 
the  subjects  of  some  supreme  ruler  ;  in  the  earlier 
books  they  are  represented  as  fulfilling  the  com- 
mands of  Jehovah  in  doing  harm  to  men,  but  later 
on  they  seem  to  enjoy  complete  independence, 
though  even  here  the  conceptions  are  not  con- 
sistent (cf.  Job  !*•'-).  When  we  come  to  the 
Apocrypha,  we  find  that  an  immense  development 
has  taken  place  ;  see,  e.g. ,  To  S"-  ^  6'- "  S^'-,  Bar  4'-  "^, 
Wis  2^,  Sir  21-'  ;  ef.  as  regards  other  late  literature 
the  Book  of  Enoch  15.  16.  19.  53.  The  more  im- 
portant literature  bearing  on  this  branch  of  the 
subject  is  as  follows : — 

W.  R.  Smith,  iJS2,  p.  120ff. ;  Wellhausen,  Reste  Arab. 
Seident.^  p.  148  ff. ;  Doughty,  Arabia  Deserta,  ii.  p.  188  ff. ; 
Curtiss,  Primitive  Semitic  Seligion  Tii-day,  pp.  68,  184,  etc. ; 
Nowack,  Heb.  Arch.  ii.  p.  186  ff. ;  Sayce,  Uibbert  Lectures, 
1887,  p.  146,  ttc.  ;  Hastings'  DB,  the  Encpc.  Bibl.,  and  the 
Jewish  Encyc.  under  artt.  '  Demons,' *  Lilith,*  'Azazel';  Ham- 
burger's Real.-Encijc.,  Riehm's  HtTB^,  Herzog's  PRE^  under 
artt.  '  Geister,"  '  Feldgeister,"  '  D.amonen,'  etc.  Other  works 
tliat  should  be  consulted  are :  Baudissin,  Studien  zur  Seni. 
Volksrelig. ;  Lagrange,  Etudes  siir  les  rel.  Semit.^;  Frazer, 
Golden  Boiigh^,  ii. 

3.  Later  Judai.sm.J— The  following  are  the 
Talraudic  words  for  demons  :  miiin  "px^i?,  nSin  'isS?, 
ninn  (jrveiy/iaTo),  nx;;iQ  nn  {TveOfia  dKaSapTov),  xjn  m 
(Trve!jiJ.a  iropi]p6f),  -\a  nn  (Tr^fP/ia  oaifionoi).  See  further 
below.  Wliile  it  is  abundantly  clear  that  e.xternal 
influences  have  left  their  marks  on  Jewish  deraon- 
ology,  it  is  certain  that  much  of  the  latter  was  of 
indigenous  growth  ;  the  whole  system,  so  immense, 
.so  intricate,  and  in  niany  respects  so  puerile,  is 
stamped  too  plainly  with  the  Judaic  genius  for 
this  to  be  questioned.  Only  a  very  brief  summary 
of  the  main  points  can  be  here  indicated.  § 

(«)  Origin  of  demons. — As  has  not  infrequently 
been  found  to  be  the  case  with  Jewish  tradition, 
there  are  varying  accounts ;  in  this  case  two  dis- 
tinct traditions  exist.  According  to  the  one,  it  is 
said  that  the  demons  were  created  |1  by  God  before 
the  world  was  made ;  Satan,ir  who  is  identical  with 
the  serpent,  is  the  chief  of  tlie  demons.  They  were 
of  both  sexes,  and  their  species  was  propagated 
through  cohabitation  with  Adam  and  Eve  during 
a  period  of  130  years  after  the  Creation.  The 
other  tradition  is  based  on  Gn  6'"*  (cf.  2  P  2^-  ^) ; 
two  angels,  Assael  and  Shemachsai,  loved  the 
daughters  of  men,  and,  forsaking  their  allegiance 
to  God,  descended  from  heaven  to  earth  ;  one  of 
these  angels  returned  to  heaven  and  did  not  sin, 
but  the  other  accomplished  his  desire,  and  his  off- 
spring became  demons. 

(6)  The  nature  of  demons. — The  general  name  for 
all  demons  is  nmzzikin  (pp'tD),  and  this  indicates  their 
nature,  P'l?  = '  one  who  does  harm. '  *  *     The  head  of 

*  Cf.  Whitehouse  in  Hastings'  DB  i.  691-'. 

Mb. 

t  By  this  is  meant  the  period  during  which  the  Talmud  was 
in  process  of  formation ;  it  was  not  completed  until  about 
A.D.  600,  but  the  traditions  concerning  demons  and  the  general 
teaching  on  the  subject  (even  in  the  latest  portions)  embody 
conceptions  of  much  earlier  date.  < 

§Tne  details  here  given  have  been  gathered  from  a  large 
number  of  sources  which  cannot  be  individually  specified;  see 
the  Literature  at  the  end  of  this  article. 

II  It  is  their  supposed  creation  on  a  Frida  if  which  makes  this 
day  one  of  ill-omen. 

IF  Satan,  according  to  another  account,  was  created  at  the 
same  time  as  Eve ;  Cain  was  their  offspring  (cf.  On  41  where 
the  Heb.  nji;  is  not  the  usual  word  tor  begetting).  •  Baal-zebul ' 
is  also  regarded,  in  the  Talmud,  as  a  prince  among  demons,  and 
is  looked  upon  as  the  most  evil  of  all  evil  spirits. 

-  This  is  illustrated  in  Jn  s:'---"!  ^^  '  Ye  seek  to  kill  me  .  .  . 
ye  do  the  works  of  your  fatlier  .  .  .  ve  are  of  vour  father  the 
devil,' 


them  is  Satan  (iBL!'n  = '  the  adversary  ') ;  it  is  his  aim 
to  mislead  men  into  evil,  and  then  to  accuse  them 
befon^  (Jiid,  hence  the  further  name  nJCpo  (\aTi). 
7opos)=-actniser'  (cf.  Zee  3').  He  is  at  liberty  to 
enter  the  Divine  presence  at  all  times  (cf.  Job  1") 
and  accuse  men  before  God ;  only  on  tlie  Day  of 
Atonement  is  he  refused  admittance.  As  the 
angel  of  death,  he  is  identical  with  Sammael, 
who  is  known  also  as  'the  head  of  all  the  Satans.' 
The  kingdom  of  Satan  (cf.  Mk  3=^")  consists  of 
himself,  as  head,  and  an  innumerable  horde  of 
angels  or  messengers  (casj^D)  who  do  his  will  ;*  this 
is  the  exact  antithesis  of  the  kingdom  of  God  t  Igee^ 
^<!ffthefr  Satan).  These  constitute  the  first  grade 
of  demons,  those  who  were  created  before  the  world 
was  made  ;  these  were  originally  in  the  service  of 
God,  but  rebelled  against  Him  (cf.  Lk  10'"). 

There  are  also  demons  of  a  lower  grade,  those, 
namely,  who  came  into  being  during  the  130  years 
after  the  Creation,  and  who  are  semi-human ;  t 
they  occupied  a  position  between  God  and  man.  § 
They  have  the  names  ( besides  those  given  above ) 
of  shcdim,\\  lilin'i  and  riihin  (Aramaic;  Heb. 
rii/wth**);  the  first  of  these  is  their  commonest 
naine.  The  head  of  these  lower-grade  demons  is 
Asmedaitt  (Asmoda'us,  To  3»,  cf.  6'^  8=) ;  they  have 
the  power  of  becoming  visible  or  invisible  at  will; 
they  have  wings,  and  fly  all  over  the  world  tt  for 
the  purpose  of  harming  men ;  in  three  respects 
tliey  resemble  man,  for  they  eat  and  drink,  they 
are  able  to  propagate  their  species,  and  are  subject 
to  death ;  they  also  have  the  power  of  assuming 
various  forms,  but  they  usually  clinose  that  of 
men,  though  with  the  diHeronce  that  their  feet 
are  hens'  feet,  and  they  are  without  shadows; 
they  are  very  numerous  (cf.  Mk  5") — 7^  millions  is 
said  to  be  the  number  of  them,  while  elsewhere  it 
is  stated  that  every  man  has  ten  thousand  on  his 
right  hand,  and  a  thousand  on  his  left  (cf.  Ps  Ol^"'). 
They  live  mostly  in  desert  places  (cf.  Lk  S-^\  where 
their  yells  can  be  heard  (cf.  Dt  32'" '  howling  wil- 
derness ') ;  also  in  unclean  places,  where  their 
power  is  great,  e.g.  in  the  ND^n  n'2  ;  in  waterless 
places  (cf.  Lk  U°*),  for  water  is  the  means  of  cleans- 
ing ;  §§  and  among  tombs  ||  ||  (cf.  Mk  5-),  dead  bodies 
being  unclean  ;  UTT  they  are  most  dangerous  to  the 
traveller,  more  especially  if  he  travels  alone  ;  they 
tend  to  congregate  together  (cf.  Lk  11-^  &-■'■"') ;  at 
certain  times  they  are  more  dangerous  than  at 
others,  viz.  at  mid-day,  when  the  heat  is  intense,  and 
from  sunset  to  cock-crowing  (cf.  Ps  9P'  ^  Mk  14'-, 
Jn  13-'™),  after  which  they  return  to  their  abode. 
Unlike  angels,  who  understand  only  Hebrew  (the 

"  The  very  terra  'the  angel  of  Satan'  is  used,  cf.  iyj-sAo.- 
S«T«,i,  2Col27. 

t  Cf.  the  dualistio  system  of  the  Persians,  wliich  has  mfluenced 
Judaism  here. 

J  Among  the  Greeks  the  demons  stand  between  men  and 
gods,  and  all  the  elements  of  mythology  that  were  derogatory 
to  the  character  of  the  national  deities  were  referred  to  the 

nions.  Greek  infl 
of  Hebrew  angeloloi^ 
'  Demons '). 

§  According  to  another  tradition,  these  semi-human  demons 
originated  thus :  God  had  cieated  their  souls,  but  before  He  had 
time  to  create  their  bodies  the  Sabbath  dawned  ;  they  were  thus 
neither  men  nor  angels,  and  became  demons. 

II  A  loan-word  from  Assyr.-Bab.  Hdu='  good  or  evil  genius.' 

U  The  Assyr.-Bab.  lilitu,  '  Lilith.' 

*"They  are  also  known  under  the  -m.  iil  ti  nn  ]-'^-3  J'nn 
(fr,fiii«r»T»,K^<i);  Blau  holdsthat.'ii     :.  -      "were  the 

spirits  of  the  departed,  see  i)rt5  a/''  //.  p.  14. 

tt  Thisisoneof  the  chief  signs  ot  imm  ,i,  mil :  Asmedai 

is  borrowed  from  the  Persian  demon  .^i  lu»t,  Ae.-i.u...  li.iuva. 

tt  Cf.  'the  prince  of  the  power  of  the  air'  (Eph  2-  Oi2).  It 
was  a  Persian  belief. 

§§  Drinking  water  at  night  is  especially  dangerous,  presumably 
because  the  wrath  of  the  demon  would  be  aroused  by  the  use  of 
water  during  his  privileged  period  of  activity,  the  night-time. 

nil  'Cemeteries  were  regarded  with  awe  by  the  ancient 
Kgvptians,  because  of  the  s|iirits  of  the  dead  who  dwelt  in 
them '(Budge.  Eqiiiittan  Mwiie,  p.  219). 

I'l  Kven  at  the  jiresent  da  v  a  cohen  who  looks  upon  a  cori)se  Is 


440 


DEMON,  DEMONIACS 


DEMON,  DEMONIACS 


'holy  tongue'  atso  pE"^),  demons  can  understand 
all  languages,  for  they  are  active  among  the  Gen- 
tiles as  well  as  among  the  Jews,  whereas  angels 
restrict  their  activity  among  men  to  the  children 
of  Abraham.  The  power  for  harm  of  the  demons 
is  greatest  among  the  sick,  among  women  in  child- 
birth, among  brides  and  bridegrooms,  mourners, 
and  those  who  are  about  to  become  teachers ; 
further,  those  who  travel  by  night,  and  children 
who  are  out  after  dark  are  specially  subject  to 
their  attacks.  There  is  one  demon,  Shabriri,  who 
makes  people  blind  (cf.  ilt  12--),  and  there  is  a 
special  demon  of  leprosy,  and  a  demon  of  heart- 
disease.  As  emissaries  of  the  angel  of  death,  Sam- 
mael  (the  'full  of  eyes,'  cf.  the  Greek  Arfjiis),  men 
are  in  constant  dread  of  them  (cf.  He  2""'"^).  It 
was  also  believed  that  demons  were  able  to  trans- 
fer some  of  their  powers  to  men,  and  especially 
to  women  ;  so,  for  example,  the  secret  of  magic 
drinks,  wliicli  could  harm  people  in  various  ways 
(cf.  Mk  16"*),  and  change  them  into  animals  ;  they 
could  also  endow  men  with  the  facultj'  of  exercis- 
ing the  'evil  eye'  (cf.  Mk  7",  see  also  Sir  31'^  and 
cf.  148- w.  To  4'8),  by  means  of  wliicli  the  good 
fortune  of  others  could  be  turned  to  evil ;  there  is 
a  special  formula  for  use  against  the  'evil  eye."* 
There  are  certain  animals  in  league  with  the 
demons  (cf.  Lk  8^-),  such  as  serpents  (cf.  Mk  16'*, 
Ac  28'-^),  bulls,  t  donkeys,!  and  mosquitoes.  The 
shidim  are  male  demons  ;  female  demons  are  called 
lilin,  '  night-sjjirits,'  from  tlie  queen  of  the  demons, 
Lilith  (cf.  Is  34'-') ;  they  have  long  flowing  hair, 
and  are  the  enemies  of  children,  for  which  reason 
special  angels  have  charge  of  children  (cf.  Mt  18'", 
He  1"). 

(c)  Safeguards  against  demons.% — God  is  the 
only  ultimate  protector  against  demons ;  but  He 
sends  His  angels  to  counteract  their  deeds,  and  to 
help  men  to  withstand  their  attacks  (cf.  Mt  IS'", 
Mk  1'^).  At  the  same  time,  God  has  given  to  man 
various  means  whereby  to  nullify  the  machinations 
of  demons.  First  among  these  is  the  saying  of  the 
Shema  {i.e.  the  Jewish  profession  of  faith  contained 
in  Dt  G*"'),  because  the  holy  name  occurs  in  it ; 
then,  prayer  to  God  (cf.  Mk  9=»).  There  are  also 
special  formulas  which  are  effective,  either  for 
warding  oft'  an  attack  or  for  throwing  oft'  the 
demoniacal  influence,  e.g.  '  The  Lord  rebuke  thee, 
Satan '  (cf.  Zee  3-,  Jude  '•') ;  Ps  91  is  recommended 
for  recitation  before  going  to  sleep ;  a  demon 
may  be  chased  away  by  repeatedly  calling  out  his 
iMiM.-.  1,111  uttering  one  syllable  less  each  time;|l 
..1,'Mi.nrr  to  certain  commands  is  also  a  safe- 
i^iiai.l,  1.7.  lixing  the  vii::u:dh,^  and  wearing  the 

*  The  superstition  of  the  '  evil  eye,"  the  possession  of  which  is 
regarded  as  being  due  to  the  indwelling  of  an  evil  spirit,  both 
in  animals  and  in  human  beings,  is  still  universally  prevalent 
among  the  pe.asantry  of  all  European  countries  :  the  writer  has 
personally  met.  with  some  curious  instances  in  the  country 
districts  of  Lower  Austria. 

t  This  is  due  to  Assyro-Bab.  influence :  Satan  is  believed  to 
dance  between  the  bull's  horns. 

t  This  is  due  to  K-^.tkui  (Typhon  -  woi-sliip)  influence; 
according   to    P!  ;1  .:i.,.|i;.>l    .1.  h;     -...i.-  (ha:- 

^„«.,)in  Et;M.  ■'.:.:  1  :  '  i,  .,;,■  7s. 
((  0«.  30). 

Sin  theTalit,  ,  i     ;        .                  •  is  true 

thatan  'evil  n-  '  '!  ■                    '  t-r^.m, 

but  tlii<  ;<  r.'    ■  !.■.■.,■  ]■ 


1  striking  contrast  t 


spirit,  L-  ....  .1  ■  '  i  .   '    i 

to  lliln  -,  Up  rr  li,.',;.  !.■■  -  hi  -I  I  m 
generally  spfakiiit,'.  demoniacal  ad 
who  are  under  its  influence.  This  i 
Gospel  accounts. 

II  See  the  use  of  a  'name'  in  Stiibe,  Jiid.-bab.  Xaubertexte, 
p.  25,  and  many  further  details  in  Blau.  Lms  altjud.  Zaiiher- 
M««i,  pp.  OtH.,  loGfl.  ;  .f.  1  '  --  1...  :  -111  t  .1  uions,  to 
whom  all  sickness  was  as.  r       i.  '      I't. 

H  A  small  glass  or  met:il  ■  >  i'  .iritten 

on  parchment,  which  is  Iim  i     ;     :   .:  '  i      t  of  the 

door  of  the  house  and  of  i  :i  i,  i      m      li      i-l   i;    .:i  >  lieilience 

1  Dt  ir-?'. 


tiphiUin  ;*  to  eat  salt  (cf.  'salt  of  the  covenant,' 
Lv  2'^,  see  Mk  &"'"')  at  and  after  meals,  and  to 
drink  water  is  also  etficacious.  Demons  love  the 
darkness  and  hate  the  light  (cf.  Lk  22^,  Eph  6''-, 
Col  1'=),  hence  a  lighted  torch  sends  them  away,  but 
the  light  of  the  moon  is  most  potent  in  scaring  theiu. 
On  Passover  night  the  demons  have  no  power. 

4.  The  Gospels.— Demons  are  designated  by 
various  names  in  the  Gospels,  viz.  Sai/jonoi'  Mt  10* 
(Sal/j.bii'  is  sometimes  found,  it  would  imply  more 
definite  personality),  jrvepMa  Lk  9^',  irveOna  d/cd- 
8apTov  Mt  10'  (rb  aKiOapTov  irvfi'fia  Mt  12*^),  irvcO/xa 
TToyTjpdf  Lk  7"',  Tvevfxa  oat/xoctoi'  duaSaprov  Lk  4^, 
TTfev/xa  aXaXov  Mk  9''.  In  Matthew  dain6t'ioi'  is 
almost  always  used  ;  in  Mark  both  daifi6piov  and 
TVfu/ia  aKaOaprov  occur  frequently,  though  the  latter 
jjredominates ;  in  Luke  there  is  a  more  varied  use; 
in  John  the  few  references  to  a  demon  (the  plural 
does  not  occur)  are  always  in  relation  to  Christ, 
and  the  word  used  is  always  Sai/xdi'iov.  In  the  vast 
majority  of  cases  these  expressions  are  used  in  the 
plural  form. 

(a)  Origin  of  demons. — The  existence  of  demons  is 
taken  for  granted  in  the  Gospels,  and  nothing  is 
said  directly  concerning  their  origin  ;  however,  as 
is  sliown  below,  Satan,  Beelzebub,  and  the  'prince 
of  the  demons'  are  one  and  tlie  same,  and  Christ 
speaks  of  His  having  seen  Satan  falling  '  as  light- 
ning from  heaven'  (Lk  10").  This  last  passage 
would  seem  to  imply  that  Satan  was  in  existence 
before  the  world  was  made,  which  would  agree 
with  the  one  rational  tradition  on  the  subject  pre- 
served in  the  Talmud.  There  are,  moreover,  also 
one  or  two  indications  in  other  NT  books  which 
support  this,  e.g.  1  Jn  3*  '  the  devil  sinneth  from 
the  beginning,'  Rev  20-  '  the  old  serpent  which  is 
the  Devil.' 

(i)  The  nature  ofdemo7iS. — That  possession  often 
takes  the  form  of  a  purely  physical  disorder  is 
clear ;  yet  from  the  expressions  used  to  designate 
demons,  given  above,  they  were  undoubtedly  re- 
garded as  being  morally  evil.  On  the  one  hand, 
possession  is  frequently  mentioned  in  the  same 
category  as  ordinary  sickness  {e.g.  Mt  10'),  dumb- 
ness is  said  to  be  due  to  possession  (Mt  9^,  Lk  11'''), 
so  too  epilepsy  (Mt  17'^)  and  blindness  (Mt  12'"); 
demons  are  spoken  of  as  taking  up  their  abode  in 
a  man  without  his  having,  apparently,  any  choice 
in  the  matter  (Mk  5'"-) ;  it  is,  moreover,  note- 
worthy, that  the  wicked  {i.e.  Pharisees,  publicans, 
and  sinners)  are  never  spoken  of  as  being  possessed 


{e.g.  Lk  IP""^-  15'),  and  the  possessed  are  permitted 
to  enter  the  synagogue  (Mk  1=*,  Lk  4**),  wl 
Id  hardly  have  been  the  case  had  they  been 


I'hich 


regarded  as  notoriously  evil ;  another  fact  which 
should  be  taken  into  consideration  in  this  con- 
nexion is  our  Lord's  words  to  the  demons  (see 
below).  On  the  other  hand,  the  evidence  is  still 
stronger  for  possession  having  been  regarded  as  a 
moral  as  well  as  a  physical  disorder.  Demons  are 
directly  referred  to  as  evil  (Lk  7-'  8-)  ;  there  are 
degrees  of  badness  among  them  (Mt  12^^^),  some 
are  merely  malignant,  some  do  more  physical  harm 
than  others  (Mt  15"^,  where  ka»iis  Soi/jovifcT-ai  im- 
plies some  specially  virulent  form  of  possession), 
some  are  referred  to  as  being  morally  as  well  as 
I'liysically  harmful  (Lk  S-  irpevp.a.Tuv  iroptipCii',  IP")  ;t 
111  one  case  a  demon  is  such  tliat  it  can  only  be  ex- 
pelled by  prayer  (Mk  9^),t  which  implies  that  in 

*' Head  -  ornaments ' :   small  leathern  ra^  -    t  o     i  .-   Ia 

13110  111.6,  Dt  OJS  1113"  written  on  par! 
bound  round  the  head  and  left  arm  by  nu  n  ;  r 

straps.  Thiswas  done  in  obedience  to  the  o.ii:  .i.:  i  ii-. 
The  Greek  name  (^u>.«j:tij;5(«) shows  that  they  ■..  -  i.  r.  _  n  I.  I  us 
safeguards,  t.f.  against  demons  (cf.  Mt  235).  Both  this  and  the 
custom  just  mentioned  are  observed  by  all  orthodox  Jews  at 
the  present  day. 

t  Cf.  also  the  distinction  in  Lk  1332  ;,^aA).4.  S»,,i«i..«  ««,  ,iaus 


1  The  addition  of  ««; 


.veil  attested. 


DEMON,  DEMONIACS 


DEMON,  DEMONIACS 


441 


the  generality  of  cases  this  was  not  necessary,  and, 
indeed,  we  find  this  to  be  the  case,  since  in  every 
other  recorded  instance  the  word  -was  sutiicicnt. 
Then,  again,  Ueelzebul),  tlie  prince  of  the  demons,  is 
identified  with  Satan  (Mt  IS^-""'",  Mk  3=^-^  Lk  1  !"■'», 
cf.  Rev  16"),  and  Satan  liiniself  is  by  name  reclvoned 
among  the  demons  in  Lie  10"'-" ;  and  he  is  the 
originator  ot  sin  in  man,  as  sliown  by  the  Tempta- 
tion, the  parable  of  tlie  Tares  (Mt  13=^"-),  and  the 
sin  of  JuQas  (see  especially  Lk  22^).  The  demons 
are  intangible,  incorporeal,*  and  (if  one  excepts 
those  passages  in  which  Satan  is  represented  as 
having  been  seen,  e.g.  Lk  10'"  4™-)  invisible;  'the 
NT  writers  believed  that  the  jdiysical  constitution 
of  a  spirit,  whether  holy  or  impure,  was  akin  to 
vapour.'  The  demon  enters  (eiffipx""-'-)  a  man  at 
will,  and  he  goes  out  (iiipx"°-^)  at  will  (Lk  11-^), 
but  in  most  cases  he  goes  out  only  on  compulsion 
(iK^iWuv) ;  lie  is  also  able  to  take  possession  of 
animals  (Mk  5'') ;  there  are  good  grounds  for  the 
supposition  that  a  storm-fiend  was  believed  in,  as 
will  be  seen  by  comparing  the  phraseology  of  the 
two  following  passages:  Mk  4™  (weTi/iT]cref  tC  avijxiji 
KoX  elirev  ttj  da\daffrj  2iw7ra,  Trecpi^uao  ;  Mk  1*^  iir^Tl- 
fjLT]{T£i/ aifTtii  o^ltjffous  X^ywy  ^tfxuidijTi.  ,  .  .f  Desolate 
places,  such  as  the  desert  (Lk  S-"),  or  mountainous 
regions  (Mk  5'),  or  among  tombs  J  (Mk  5"),  and 
waterless  places  (Lk  11-^),  i.e.  places  to  whicli  men 
come  onlj'  in  small  numbers  or  singly,  are  those 
for  which  demons  have  a  preference.  They  are 
represented  as  congregating  together  (Mk  S'*,  Lk 
8^),  sometimes  in  sevens  §  (Lk  8^  IP",  cf.  Rev  I'') ; 
for  this  reason  the  plural  form  is  usually  employed. 
In  Mk  5"  the  demons  beseech  Christ  not  to  send 
them  out  of  the  country ;  they  are  thus  able  to 
speak,  or,  at  all  events,  so  to  overmaster  their 
victim  as  to  make  bis  faculties  their  own  (Mk  l""). 
Nothing  is  said  in   the  Gospels,   directly,  as  to 


lions  is,  II  but 
iitly,  a  place 
ICC  banished 
iunt  for  tlieir 
in  Lk  S=':': 


where  the  permanent  home  of  t 

the  'abyss'  is  spoken 

whence  they  could  n^ 

there  ;  this  would,  at  i 

entreaty  not  to  be  bn 

they  clearly  realized  that  .i  tiiiic  cii  ii'iiurni  w.is  m 

store  for  them  (Mt  8""),  and  thai,  tliis  u.i  mnil  mi^lit, 

take  place  before  the  a]>iKjiiiti(l  tiim- (Ml^  ■"'',  '-Iv  s-^), 

and  so  the  sight  of  Christ  filled  them  with  dread. 

There  is  nothing  in  the  Gospels  to  show  that 
demons  were  believed  to  be  the  unquiet  spirits  of 
the  wicked  departed,  and  the  belief  that  they  were 
heathen  gods  is  equally  absent  (cf.,  on  the  other 
hand,  1  Co  lO"-'^-^"). 

(c)  Demoniacal  possession,  demoniacs. — The  usual 
term  for  this  is  Sainon^d/xevos  (e.rj.  Mt  4"),  but  a 
number  of  other  expressions  for  it  are  found  in 
the  Gospels,  viz.  Sa^ixofiaddi  (Mk  5'«,  Lk  8™),  fij-Spw- 
TTos  iv  Tpev/iari  aKadaprifi  (Mk  1'-''  5"  ^;'  =  'in  the 
power  of),  lx<^v  Saifiovia  (Lk  8"),  di'dpuiros  Ix"" 
Tvev/ia  Sai/iOfiov  aKadapTov  (Lk  4""),  ^i/ox^^oi'M-cO!  inri 
Tfevp-aruv  aKadapruiv  (Lk  6'"),  ^Xawd/Jefos  dxA  toD 
Sai/ioj-os  (Lk  8='),  aeX-nviaicadai  (Mt  4=''). 

With  but  few  exceptions  those  who  are  said  to 
be  possessed  are  grown-up  men  ;   the  exceptions 

*  Cf.  Ignatius  (ad  Sinym,  iii.  2),  who  tells  us  that  Christ 
said  to  His  disciples  after  His  resurrection  :  e>ix  t!fj.i  httif^onov 

t  Cf.  Conybeare  in  JQR  ix.  460 ;  see  also  an  example  ot  a 
spell  addressed  to  the  storm-cod  in  Sayce's  IJibbeH  Lectures, 
p.  317. 

t  Cf.  the  highly  interesting  inscription,  the  text  ot  which  is 
given  in  Deissmann's  Bihetshulien,  p.  26ff. 

§  Companies  of  seven  evil  spirits  are  not  infrequently  men- 
tioned in  Assyr.-Bab.  incantations,  c./;.  'there  are  seven  wicked 
sons  ot  the  abyss,'  which  occurs  in  an  incantation  to  fire ;  see 
Budge's  Assijrian  Incantations  to  Fire  and  Water]  cf.  also  the 
•  seven  wicked  spirits'  in  ancient  Bab^ionian  belief  (Sayce,  op. 

II  The  'eternal  fire'  is,  according  to  Mt  25*1,  reserved  tor  the 
devil  and  his  angels;  but  there  is  no  mention  of  these  in  Lk 
16-iir.,  where  the  flame  in  Hades  is  spoken  ot. 

If  In  the  parallel  passages  there  is  no  mention  of  the  abyss 
(cf.  Mt  831,  Mk  51"). 


are :  certain  women  wlio  had  been  healed  of  e\  il 
spirits,  and  Mary  Magdalene  (Lk  8-) ;  the  woman 
who  had  been  bound  by  Satan  for  eighteen  years 
(Lk  13"-  '^) ;  Peter's  wife's  mother  (see  below,  Lk 
4*-') ;  a  boy  (Lk  9^«) ;  and  the  little  daughter  of  the 
Syro-Phoenician  Moman  (Mk  7-^).  It  is,  however, 
probable  that  others,  besides  men,  are  included  in 
such  passages  as  Mk  V-";  Lk  7-'.  The  sigm  of 
possession  may  be  thus  summarized :  dumbness 
(RIt  9^^  Mk  9"*),  dumbness  and  deafness  (Mk  9==), 
blindness  and  dumbness  (Mt  12-),  savage  fierce- 
ness (Mt  8=«,  Mk  5\  Lk  8=»),  abnormal  strength 
(Mk  5\  Lk  8'-'»),  falling  into  the  fire  and  water 
(Mt  17'=),  conxulsioiis  (.Mk  !-«  9'-»,  Lk  4^=),  raving 
(Mk  5'),  grinding  tlie  teeth  (Mk  9'8),  foaming  at 
the  nioutli  (Lk  9^''- ■■-).  These  are  all  .signs  of 
epilepsy  (ffeXrifidiccrBai)  ;  in  Mt  4-^  the  ffeX-qfta^S/iemt 
are  distinguished  from  tlie  oaipLoini'o/xet'oi.*  Fever 
would  also  appear  to  have  been  regarded  as  a  sign 
of  ijossession,  for  Christ  is  said  to  '  rebuke'  (iTrerl- 
firjcei')  the  fever,  the  identical  word  which  is  fre- 
quently used  by  Him  when  addressing  demons, 
e.ff.  in  the  next  verse  but  one  to  the  passage  in 
question  (Lk  4*').  One  other  sign  of  possession 
must  be  noted,  a  man  who  is  '  mad,'  in  the  modern 
sense  of  being  out  of  his  mind,  is  said  to  have  a 
demon;  this  is  said  of  John  the  Baptist  (Mt  11'*), 
and  of  Christ  (Jn  10=»). 

A  demoniac  is  spoken  of  as  the  dwelling-ijlace  of 
a  demon  (Mt  12'"),  and  a  number  of  demons  can 
dwell  in  one  person  (Mt  1'2*'',  Mk  5-',  Lk  8-).  Some- 
times the  demon  is  ditt'erentiated  from  the  man 
possessed  (Mk  l--"),  at  other  times  the  two  are 
identified  (Mk  3") ;  striking  in  this  respect  is  the 
passage  Mk  S'""";!  dillerentiation  is  strongly 
marked  when  an  expression  .such  as  that  in  Lk  6'^ 
is  used :  ol  ^vox^oOp.ei'Oi  dwb  TrvevpLaTLov  aKaddpTioy, 
Lastly,  the  same  outward  signs  are  at  one  time 
spoken  of  as  possession,  at  another  as  ordinary 
sickness  (cf.  Mt  4-^  17''  etc.). 

(d)  Christ  and  the  demons. — One  of  Christ's  chief 
works  on  earth  was  to  annihilate  the  power  of 
demons  ;  the  demons  themselves  realize  this  (Mk 
]■*,  Lk  4^-',  and  cf.  1  .hi  3") ;  tlie  destruction  of  their 
kingdom  was  necessary  for  the  establishment  of 
the  Kingdom  of  (Jod.  (.'inist  s  attitude  towards 
demons  may  be  brielly  suiiniied  up  as  follows : — 
With  two  exceptions  (viz.  tlie  case  of  the  woman 
'bound  by  Satan'  for  eighteen  years,  Lk  13"- "*, 
and  that  of  Peter's  wife's  mother,  Lk  4^")  no  in- 
stance is  recorded  of  His  laying  His  hands  upon, 
or  in  any  way  coming  in  direct  contact  with  one 
who  is  possessed  by  a  demon.  On  the  other  hand. 
His  words  are  never  severe  when  addressing  the 
pos.sessed ;  very  reiiiarkable,  iinaei)\er,  is  the  fact 

that  even  when    lie  -pe,ik-    t..  llie  ,lei 1  itself, 

Christ's  words  are  iie\ci-  aii-is'  ;  He  '  uliukes'  the 
demon  (Mk  1-',  l.K  !■  ),  Imt  ilie  ^^,,nl-,  .,1  rebuke 
are  simply:  '  Hold  thy  iic;icc  and  cdinc  .ml  nf  him,' 
or  a  command  that  He  should  noi  ]••■  mule  known  J 
(Mk3'=,butcf.  LkS=-');  on  .,ne  o,  ra-ion  t  li- request 
of^  demons  is  granted  i  M  i  s'-  -Mk  5'--'=  =  Lk 
8'-).  The  power  which  (luisl  lias  over  demons  is 
absolute,  they  are  wholly  siilijc.  t  unto  Him,  and 
are  compelled  to  yield  llim  id.i  dieiice  (Mk  1-',  Lk 
4'");  that  it  is  an  unwilling  obedience  is  obvious, 
and  this  is  graphically  brought  out,  e.g.  when  it  is 
said  of  a  demon  that  before  coming  out  of  a  man 
it  threw  him  down  in  the  midst  (Lk  4«).§  The 
recognition  of  Christ  by  demons  is  of  a  kind  which 


*  See,  further,  Delitzsch,  S;/stem  der  bill.  Psi/eholoffu 

t  '  What  in  the  demoniac  strikes  us  most  is  the  stra: 
fusion  of  the  physical  and  the  tis\chic.al,  cacli  intriRl 
the  proper  domain  of  the  otlirr'  (Tr.nr-li,  l//r<r.-''   ,   rr'  / 

t  For  the  reason  of  Cliri--f^  m.  i  m, --.,,,.  i,,  !.,  ,..,1, 
see  Sanday  in  J77i4'(,  V.  (I.  ,       i    ,    ,     i   \.  :  -' 

kenntnis  der  Diinionen  Iiii  M  ni  n      \      ' 

§  Cf.  .also,  in  the  precciniL:  Mi-r,  l]i.  ,  •  l,n,,:i..ii 
pleasure,' E»(=anN). 


10. 


442 


DOrOX,  DE^rONIACS 


DEMON,  DEMONIACS 


is  very  striking,  for  He  is  not  only  recognized  as 
Jesus  of  Na.zaretli,  i.e.  as  one  born  of  men,  but  is 
also  addressed  as  the  '  Holy  One  of  God'  (Lk  4«), 
and  as  the  'Son  of  God'  (Lk  4^'),  i.e.  as  one  of 
Divine  nature,  and  this  latter  title  is  emphasized 
by  their  knowledge  of  His  power  to  cast  them  into 
the  abyss  (Lk  8^'),  -which  also  accounts  for  their 
fear  of  Him.  The  power  of  Christ  over  demons  is 
regarded  as  something  new  *  (diSaxv  Kairq,  JNIk  1-') ; 
this  was  because  the  method  of  exorcism  which 
was  familiar  to  the  Jews  hitherto  was  the  pro- 
nouncing of  a  magical  formula  over  the  possessed. 
In  the  Gospels,  as  a  rule,  the  casting  out  of  a 
demon  is  stated  without  specifying  by  what  means 
it  was  done  (Mk  1«,  Lk  7"'  S-),  but  we  learn  this 
from  a  number  of  other  pas>a^.  -  :  ^  ,  Mt  8"), 
fV  TT^.-.^ari  OfoC  (Mt  12-*),  e.'  o.  iK  1 1""), 

f'7reriV7;o-eJ' (Mt  17'"),  i"rd7fTe  (M     ^  >Mk5', 

Lk  4^') ;  on  one  occasion  the  \\'iiil>  ai''  aiMiussed 
to  the  mother  of  a  child  who  is  possessed  :  yi:i'i)$riTw 
croi  us  eiXeis  (Mt  15=*,  Mk  7='),  the  possessed  child 
not  being  in  His  presence  (Mk  7*'),  so  that  His 
power  did  not  depend  on  His  visible  personality.  I' 
Christ  transfers  this  power  of  castin"  out  demons 
(Mt  10',  Mk  S'-") ;  when  His  disciples  cast  them 
out  it  is  by  virtue  of  His  namef  (rv  o-y  oyS/xan 
Sai/xdi'ta  (iepi\o/xfi>,  Mt  7",  Lk  10"),  but  they  are 
not  able  to  do  this  without  faith  (Mt  17-") ;  we 
read,  howe\er,  in  ilk  9^-'"  of  one  who  was  not  a 
follower  of  Christ,  but  who  was,  nevertheless,  able 
to  cast  out  demons  in  His  name  (cf.  Mt  1'2-", 
Lk  IP).  In  Mk  3~  the  scribes  say  of  Christ 
that  'he  hath  Beelzebub,'  and  in  3^"  occur  the 
words,  '  because  they  said.  He  hath  an  unclean 
spirit.'  That  Beelzebub  the  '  prince  of  the  demons ' 
and  '  unclean  spirit'  are  synonymous  with  '  demon  ' 
cannot  be  disputed.  Christ  is  thus  declared  to  be 
possessed  ;§  nevertheless,  it  is  not  this  which  calls 
forth  His  words,  'whosoever  shall  sin  against  the 
Holy  Ghost  hath  never  forgiveness'  (v.-»),  but  the 
fact  that  He  was  accused  of  being  in  league  with 
Beelzebub  ;  this  is  important,  as  it  would  seem  to 
support  the  theory,  which  is  elsewhere  adumbrated 
in  the  Gospels,  that  possession  was  not  necessarily, 
po-  sc,  a  moral  disorder  ;  there  is  also  reason  to  be- 
lieve that  at  least  some  forms  of  possession  were 
regarded  as  mental  derangement :  Christ  speaks 
of  John  the  Baptist  having  been  looked  upon  as 
possessed  (Mt  11",  Lk  7*");  he  was  so  regarded, 
because  there  seemed  to  be  something  eccentric 
about  his  behaviour  ;  in  Jn  7=''  Christ  is  said  to  be 
possessed  by  a  demon,  because  He  said  they  sought 
to  kill  Him  ;  Jn  8«-  ■•'■',  where  it  is  said  :  '  Thou  art 
a  Samaritan  and  hast  a  demcm,' iioiiit~  to  the  fact 
that  a  man  who  was  possessed  wa^  (li-|ii-ril  Ijeeause 
he  spoke  what  W'as  deemed  non-m-c:  al>u,  the 
supposed  connexion  between  iHisr-es-ioTi  and  mental 
derangement  is  pointedly  brought  out  in  Jn  lO'-'" 
'  He  hath  a  demon  and  is  mad.'  While  fully 
realizing  that  the  Fourtli  Gospel  stands  by  itself, 
it  must  be  conceded  that  it  contributes  one  very 
important  con^iileration,  especially  as  the  idea  of 
possession  UmmY  tlieic  i^  not  without  parallel  in 
the  Synoptic  Co-i"!-,  a^  ^huwn  above.  The  belief 
that  possession  wa^  a  s)ircies  of  mental  derange- 
ment, wholly  unconnected  with  the  question  of 
morality,  is  what  the  Fourth  Gospel  teaches  ;  but 
then  it  niu<t  be  remembered  that  'the  devil'  and 
'Satan,'  wlio  nv  identified!!  (as  in  the  Synoptic 

•Til.   '  '  .;  cf.,  as  re-tards  Christ's  general  teach- 

iiij;,  M;    ,  1  I  re  astonished  at  his  te.iching;   for  he 

tau'lii:  ni:,'authprity,  and  not  as  the  scrihes.' 

t"if   tin  .  .i I  u  I  iiioiis  bodily  sickness  also  cured,  though 

Christ  was  not  present  (Lk  T^). 

t  Cf.  Sajce,  Hibbert  Lectures,  p.  302fl. ;  Conjbeare  in  JQR 
ix.  583  ff. 

§  In  the  parallel  passages  (Mt  (W  12Mir.,  Lk  llUT)  there  is  no 
mention  of  Christ  being  possessed,  tlie  accusation  is  that  He  cast 
out  demons  bv  Beelzebub. 

II  Cf.  Jn  ]32"i  Si«(3»».«  with  13-7  i  i«t«.«;. 


Gospels),  are  ditt'erentiated  from  'demon';  whereas, 
according  to  the  Synoptics,  all  belong  to  the  same 
category,  Satan  being  the  chief  (Mt  12-*).  The 
passage  Jn  10=°  receives  additional  significance 
in  the  light  of  the  Heb.  equivalent,  compared, 
c.ff.,  with  Hos  9"  the  man  that  hath  the  spirit  is 
mad'  (nnrr  u-x  yJtJD).  Delitzsch  (NT  in  Heb. 
renders  Jn  10="  dai/i6fiof  Ixei-  itai  /iaiVerai,  by  iS  ia 
K!n  Viii'pi,  the  last  words  of  which  should  be  com- 
pared with  the  rendering  of  the  Pesh.  1 1  »  Knn 

Gospel  demonology  may,  therefore,  be  briefly 
summed  up  thus  : — 

(1)  Demons  are  under  a  head,  Satan  ;  they  form 
a  kingdom.  (2)  They  are  incorporeal,  and  gener- 
ally, though  not  neces-sarily,  invisible.  (3)  They 
inhabit  certain  places  which  they  prefer  to  others. 
(4)  They  tend  to  live  in  groups.  (5)  They  have 
names,  and  are  sometimes  identified  with  their 
victims,  at  other  times  ditt'erentiated  from  them. 
(6)  'They  are  the  cause  of  mental  and  jihysical 
disease  to  men,  women,  and  children.  (7)  They 
can  pass  in  and  out  of  men,  and  even  animals.  (8) 
More  than  one  can  take  possession  of  a  man  at  the 
same  time.  (9)  Christ  made  it  one  of  His  chief 
aims  to  overthrow  this  kingdom,  and  set  up  His 
own  in  its  place.  (10)  He  cast  out  demons  through 
His  own  name,  or  by  His  word.  (11)  He  could 
delegate  this  power,  which  was  regarded  as  some- 
thing new.  (12)  He  never  treats  the  possessed 
as  wilful  sinners,  which  is  in  strong  contrast 
to  His  words  to  the  scribes  and  Pharisees.  (13) 
Only  on  the  rarest  occasions  does  He  come  into 
direct  contact  with  the  possessed.  (14)  His 
Divine  and  human  natures  are  recognized  by 
demons.  (15)  At  His  .second  coming  the  mem- 
bers of  this  kingdom  are  to  be  condemned  to 
eternal  fire. 

5.  In  endeavouring  to  reach  some  definite  con- 
clusions on  this  difticult  subject  of  Gospel  denton- 
ology,  it  is  well  to  place  certain  considerations 
in  juxtaposition.  On  the  one  hand,  the  history 
of  mankind  shows  that  a  superstitious  belief  in 
evildlsp(i>ed  demons,  to  whom  everj;  imaginable 
niuuwaiil  ein  uiiistaiiee  is  attributed,  is  universal  ; 
tlieie  is  a  remaiUaMe  similarity,  in  essence,  in  the 
ileiiKinolony  of  all  times  ;  it  stretches,  from  the 
earliest  times  to  the  present  day,  like  a  great 
chain  along  the  course  of  human  history.  The 
demonology  of  the  Gospels  shows  itself,  in  many 
respects,  unmistakably  akin  to  this  universal 
superstition.  It  is  impossible  to  ignore  the  fact 
that,  in  its  broad  outlines.  Gospel  demonology  is 
in  accordance  with  the  current  Jewish  beliefs  of 
the  time.  It  will,  moreover,  have  been  noticed, 
from  the  details  given  above,  that  the  data  in  the 
Gospels  themselves  are  inconsistent.  Again,  the 
way  in  which  in  the  Gospels  much  is  attributed  to 
the  action  of  demons  (deafness,  dumbness,  etc.), 
looks  naive  to  modern  eyes.  There  is  also  this 
further  consideration  which  conspires  in  discredit- 
ing the  Gospel  accounts  on  the  subject,  viz.  that 
those  who  at  the  present  day  believe  in  the  con- 
tinued activity  of  demons  are  almost  invariably 
such  as  are  on  a  low  stage  of  civilization,  or  they 
are  peasants  in  country  districts  who  have  but  rare 
opportunities  of  coming  into  contact  with  cultured 
people.  And,  lastly,  account  must  be  taken  of  the 
fact  that  very  few  could  be  found  nowadays  who 
would  claim  to  point  to  any  instance  in  their  ex- 
perience of  the  existence  of  demoniacal  possession  ; 
thus  the  only  parallels  to  Gospel  demonology  would 
have  to  be  sought  among  the  acknowledged  super- 


DEMON,  DEMONIACS 


DEN 


443 


stitions  of  the  Middle  Ages,  and  the  like.  These 
considerations  tend  to  the  conclusion  that  the 
Gospel  acconnts  of  demons  cannot  be  regarded  as 
essentially  diH'eient  from  the  innumerable  accounts 
from  other  sources. 

But  there  is  a  second  set  of  considerations,  and 
to  ignore  these  would  be  most  unscientific.  When 
the  whole  chain  of  demonology,  from  primitive 
times  to  the  present  day,  is  considered,  it  is  quite 
impossible  for  an  unbiassed  mind  to  be  blind  to 
the  fact  that,  in  spite  of  many  points  of  similarity 
and  even  of  essential  identity,  the  demonology  of 
the  Gospels  offers  something  siti  generis ;  one  be- 
comes conscious  of  the  fact  that  this  link  in  the 
long  chain  is  very  different  from  all  the  other 
links.  Another  thing  that  strikes  the  student  of 
the  subject  as  very  remarkable  is,  that  Gospel 
demonology  and  the  current  Jewish  belief  are  not 
more  alike  than  is  the  case  ;  they  agree  in  so  many 
respects,  that  one  feels  that  only  the  existence 
of  some  extraordinary  factor  prevents  their  being 
wholly  identical.  But  more  than  this,  the  dis- 
similarity between  the  two  is  just  as  striking  as 
their  points  of  similarity :  in  the  one  there  is 
nothing  eccentric,  nothing  done  for  effect,  or  for 
self-glorification,*  there  is  no  casting  out  of  demons 
for  the  sake  of  exhibiting  power,  there  is  none  of 
the  '  wonder-working '  which  characterizes  other 
ns  through 
ting  out  of 

demons,  namely,  the  alleviation  of  human  suffer- 
ing. To  give  in  any  detail  the  points  of  difference 
between  the  general  subject  of  demonology  and 
Gospel  demonology  would  be  impossible  here,  but, 
when  the  great  mass  of  facts  has  been  studied,  the 
contrast  between  the  two  can  be  compared  only 
to  the  contrast  between  folly  and  seriousness. 
Another  conviction  to  which  one  is  compelled  in 
contemplating  Gospel  demonology  in  its  broad  out- 
lines is  that  it  is  connected  in  the  closest  possible 
manner  with  the  subject  of  sin  ;  the  symptoms  of 
the  '  possessed '  in  the  Gospels  are  such  as  are 
common  to  humanity,  and  nobody  doubts  the 
accuracy  with  which  these  are  described  ;  the  real 
crux  arises  when  their  cause  has  to  be  determined  ; 
this  is  ascribed  by  the  compilers  of  the  Gospels  to 
the  action  of  demons,  i.e.  to  an  evil  agency  ;  nowa- 
days the  same  symptoms  are  ascribed  to  different 
causes — broadly  speaking,  to  '  natural  causes '  ; 
but  may  it  not  be  that  behind  both  theories  there 
lies  a  deeper  cause,  the  principle  of  Evil,  occupy- 
ing a  vacant  place  in  individuals  which  they  them- 
selves have  provided  by  the  abandonment  of  their 
self-control  ?  There  are  cases  in  the  Gospels  to 
which  this  would  not  apply,  but  it  is  worth  taking 
into  consideration  in  contemplating  the  subject  as 
a  whole.  It  is  well  also  to  remember  that  the  ad- 
vance of  Modern  Science,  especially  in  the  domain 
of  Psychology,  has  revealed  problems  whose  most 
important  result  is  to  show  how  extremely  little 
we  know  about  such  things  as  '  secondary  per- 
sonality,' the  '  subliminal  self,'  '  change  of  control,' 
etc.  etc. — in  a  word,  how  hidden  still  are  the  secrets 
of  the  region  of  the  supersensuous. 

Upon  a  subject  that  bristles  with  so  many  diffi- 
culties nobody  would  wish  to  dogmatize  ;  no  con- 
clusion that  has  been  reached  is  free  from  serious 
objections,  and  the  same  is  the  case  with  that  here 
offered  : — 

Christ  saw  in  the  case  of  every  '  possessed ' 
victim  a  result  of  sin,  not  necessarily  through  the 
co-operation  of  the  victims  ;  t  sin  He  saw  em- 
bodied in  '  Satan,'  who  is  identified  with  '  demon  ' 
(see  above) ;  he  was  the  personification  of  the  prin- 
ciple of  Evil,  which  was  manifested  in  men  in  a 

*  Cf.  Christ's  rebuke  to  His  disciples  in  Lk  10=". 

1 1 1  IS  necessary  to  react  Ro  7"-==  and  1  Co  10"  =2  111"-M,  esp. 


variety  of  ways.  When  Christ  '  exorcized '  a 
'demon,'  He,  by  His  Divine  power,  drove  the  evil 
out,  and  at  the  same  time  obliterated  the  visible 
results  of  sin.  When  the  words  and  acts  of  Christ 
came  to  be  written  clown,  they  were  not  always 
understood  ;  *  they  were,  no  doubt,  in  tlieir  broad 
outlines,  correctly  reproduced  ;  but  what  more 
natural  than  that  they  should  be  told  in  accord- 
ance with  the  ideas  then  current  ?  Not  the  essence 
but  the  form  differed  from  the  actuality. 

Literature.  —  Blau,  Das  atljudische  Zauberwesen,  Strass- 
burj;,  189S  [most  interesting  ami  useful] ;  Brecher,  Das  Tran- 
sceiidentale.  Magic  utul  magische  Ueilarteil  im  Talmud,  Vienna, 
1S50  [for  gaining  an  insight  into  the  connexion  between  demons 
and  magic,  according  to  Rabbinical  notions,  this  book  is  indis- 
pensable] ;  Franz  Delitzsch,  Siistem  dcr  biblischen  Psycholoi/ie, 
Leipzig,  1855 ;  Edersheim,  The  Life  and  Times  of  Jesus  t/w 
Messiah^  chs.  xiv.  xxv.,  London,  1890  ;  Eisenmengcr,  Entdeckles 
Judenthum,  Dresden,  1893  ;  Kohut,  in  AbhaiuHuniien  fur  die 
Kunde  des  Morgenlatules,  vol.  iv.,  issued  by  the  ZDMG,  Leip- 
zig, 1859,  etc.;  Schubert,  Die  Krankheiten  mid  Storungen  der 
vunschlichen  Seele  ;  Stube,  Jiidisch-babylonische  Zaubertextc 
Halle,  1895;  Trench,  Noles  on  the  Miracles'^,  pp.  101-175; 
Weber,  Judisehe  Theotogie  auf  Grand  des  Talmud  und  ver- 
wandter  Schriften-  (esp.  §  54),  Leipzig,  1897  [this  most  im- 
portant work  is  an  improved  edition  of  the  earlier  System 
der  altsynagogalen  palastinischen  Theotogie];  Wrede,  '  Zur 
Messiaserkenntnis  der  Daraonen  bei  Markus,'  in  Z^TW, 
July  1904;  Winer,  Biblisches  Reatworterbuch,  Riehm,  HWBA, 
Hastings'  DB,  the  Ency.  Bibl.,  under  '  Demon,'  etc. 

For  the  subsequent  beliefs  and  superstitions  about  demons 
prevalent  during  the  Middle  Ages,  and  even  up  to  the  present 
day,  a  few  references  may  be  given  out  of  a  large  number  of 
works  dealing  with  the  subject : — 

In  the  arts,  in  JQR  by  Mr.  Conybeare,  already  referred  to, 
there  is  an  admirable  survey  of  the  beliefs  of  the  Church  Fathers 
(viii.  pp.  694-G08,  ix.  pp.  69-72).  Another  work  of  M.  Maury, 
who  is  one  of  the  chief  authorities  on  the  subject,  is  his  Croy- 
ances  et  legendes  du  moyen-dge,  Paris,  1890.  Andrew  Lang 
deals  with  the  psychology  of  the  subject  in  his  Making  of  Re- 
ligion, mentioned  above  ;  so  too  Delitzsch,  System  .  .  „  also 
referred  to  above.  Two  other  books  are,  Nevins'  Demon  Pos- 
session and  allied  Themes,  New  York,  1895  ;  and  Wall's  Deoits, 
a  popular  sketch  of  demons  in  ecclesiastical  art,  with  good 
illustrations  (London,  1904). 

/  W.  O.  E.  OE.STERLEY. 

DEN  (Mt  21"  =  Mk  ll"  =  Lk  19^'^  air-^Xaiov 
[X-gtrTup];  elsewhere  in  the  Gospels  only  Jn  11^^  to 
describe  the  tomb  of  Lazarus,  ^v  di  o-x^jXaio^). — In 
estimating  the  meaning  of  our  Lord's  declaration 
that  the  Temple  had  been  made  a  den  or  cave  of 
robbers,  the  immediate  occasion  of  the  words  must 
be  kept  in  view.  It  was  the  feast  of  the  Passover, 
and  the  Temple  courts  were  crowded  by  those  who 
sold  sheep,  oxen,  and  pigeons,  while  the  money- 
changers also  carried  on  tlieir  trade.  As  no  trace 
is  found  in  the  OT  of  such  a  market  existing,  it 
may  be  supposed  it  sprang  up  some  time  after  the 
Captivity.  It  woultl  plead  for  justification  the 
needs  of  the  new  condition  of  the  nation.  Foreign 
Jews  would  thus  be  able  to  obtain  on  the  spot  both 
the  Temple  half-shekel  required  by  the  Law  (Ex 
30'^),  and  also  animals  necessary  for  sacrifice,  pro- 
bably with  the  additional  advantage  that  the  latter 
would  have  an  official  guarantee  of  Levitical  fitness 
for  sacrifice,  which  must 
purchased  elsewhere. 

The  profits  from  these  sources  were  enormous. 
It  has  been  calculated  that  the  annual  income  de- 
rived from  money-changing  can  hardly  have  been 
less  than  £8000-£9000,  while  the  sale  of  pigeons  is 
specially  referred  to  as  furnishing  alone  a  large 
annual  income.  These  profits  appear  to  have  been 
largely,  if  not  entirely,  appropriated  by  the  priests. 
Certain  booths  are  frequently  mentioned  as  belong- 
ing to  the  'sons  of  Hanan'  (Annas),  and  ajipear  to 
have  existed  until  'about  three  years  before  the 
destruction  of  Jerusalem,  when  they  were  de- 
stroyed. Besides  the  mere  fact  that  the  Temple 
was  made  a  house  of  merchandise  (Jn  'J'"),  many 
passages  in  the  Rabbinical  writings  appear  to  indi- 
cate that  the  Temple  market  was  notorious  for 
dishonest  dealings,  upon  which  passages  it  has  been 

•  This  was  often  the  case  during  Christ's  lifetime  (see  Mk 
8=1  gJ'J,  Lk  !)«_  Jn  3111  etc.  etc.). 


!  obtained  for  any  animal 


444 


DENAKIUS 


DENIAL 


remarked  {Speaker's  Com.  in  loc.)  that  the  spaces 
in  the  court  were  probably  let  out  to  traffickers 
at  an  exorbitant  rate.  The  remembrance  of  this 
state  of  things  gives  new  force  to  the  quotation 
from  Jer  7"  here  used  by  our  Lord. 

Josephus  (o.  Apion.  ii.  24)  writes :  *  The  Temple  ought  to  be 
common  to  all  men,  because  He  is  the  common  God  of  all ' ;  but, 
far  from  its  being  thus,  it  had  become  the  possession  of  a  few. 
*  Ye  gather  together  here  money  and  animals,  as  robbers  collect 
their  boot}'  in  their  den  *  (Fritzsche,  quoted  \>y  Lange). 

Those  who  ought  to  have  been  the  first  to  teach 
others  the  sacredness  of  the  place  h<ad  seized  upon 
it,  as  robbers  would  seize  some  den  or  cave  in  the 
mountains,  in  which  they  might  maintain  their 
unity  for  the  purpose  of  spoil.  See,  further,  art. 
Temple  in  vol.  ii. 

LiTEiiATiRE.  —  Edersheim,  Life  and  Times  of  Jems  the 
Messiah,  also  The  Temple,  etc.  ;  Parrar,  Life  of  Christ ;  Deren- 
bourg.  Hist,  de  Pal. ;  and  the  Comm.  ad  loc. 

J.  B.  Bristow. 
DENARIUS.— See  Money. 

DENIAL.— The  verb  apvetixeai,  '  to  deny,'  is  used 
in  contrast  with  hp-oXoryelv,  'to  confess'  (Mt  10^'-'- 
II  Lk  12"-,  where  a-n-apvelaeai  is  also  employed  ;  ef. 
2  Ti  2!-,  where  apvelcrBai  is  used  specially  of  the 
verbal  denial  of  Christ,  due  to  fear  of  suffering).  As 
confession  of  Christ  (wh.  see)  is  the  outward  expres- 
sion of  personal  faith  in  Him,  so  denial  of  Him  is 
(1)  the  withholding,  (2)  refusing,  or  (3)  withdrawing 
such  confession.  In  the  first  of  these  categories 
are  included  those  who,  like  some  members  of  the 
Sanhedrin  (Jn  Ii''-),  believed  on  Christ,  but  did 
not  confess  Him  ;  in  the  second,  those  who  did  not 
believe  on  Him,  and  as  a  natural  result  did  not 
confess  Him ;  and,  in  the  third,  those  who  have 
confessed  Him,  but,  through  fear  of  men,  deny 
Him  in  times  of  persecution.  It  is  the  tliird  class 
to  which  reference  is  made  in  Mt  10^^  '  Whosoever 
shall  deny  me  before  men,  him  will  I  also  deny 
before  my  Father  which  is  in  heaven.'  Open  dis- 
avowal u't  faitli  in  Christ  ('before  men')  is  taken 
as  a  clear  indication  of  the  offender's  attitude 
towards  Him,  and  eventuates  in  his  e.\clusion  from 
the  blessings  of  the  perfected  kingdom  in  heaven. 
Such  disavowal  must  be  deliberate  and  persistent, 
and  is  to  be  distinguished  from  a  momentary  lapse 
of  personal  weakness,  like  that  of  Simon  Peter, 
which  by  timely  repentance  became  the  means  of 
strengthening  his  character,  and  enabling  him  to 
strengthen  others  (Lk  22'-).  In  the  narrower  and 
stricter  sense,  therefore,  denial  means  public  apos- 
tasy from  faith  in  Christ,  the  guilt  of  which  is 
visited  with  a  punishment  in  exact  correspondence 
with  it. 

1.  The  discourse  in  which  the  great  warning 
against  denial  is  found  (Mt  10""^),  and  which  was 
addressed  to  the  Twelve  in  \'iew  of  their  Apostolic 
mission  after  the  Resurrection,  evidences  its  lateness 
by  the  serious  situation  depicted,  in  which  exposure 
to  the  severest  forms  of  persecution  is  contem- 
plated, including  punishment  in  the  synagogues, 
arraignment  before  Gentile  tribunals,  and  death 
itself.  It  must  belong  at  earliest  to  the  period  of 
growing  opposition,  and  has  been  assigned  to  as 
late  a  date  as  the  close  of  tlie  ministry.  The 
Second  Evangelist  pliues  u  ].uitii)ii  of  it  in  the 
eschatological  discourse  >].cikrii  nii  Olivet  to  the 
four  disciples  on  the  Wedne^duy  or  Thursday  of 
Passion-week  (Mk  13'''").  Christ  no  doubt  fore- 
told almost  from  the  outset  of  His  ministry  that 
His  disciples  would  be  exposed  to  reproach  and 
obloquy  (Mt  5"'-),  but  the  first  intimation  of  serious 
opposition  synchronizes  with  the  first  plain  intima- 
tion of  His  own  death  ( Mk  8"'- ).  It  was  in  prospect 
of  the  undisguised  hostility  awaiting  them  in  con- 
nexion with  their  Apostolic  mission  that  Christ 
cautioned  His  disciples  against  the  danger  of  denial. 


If  He  .suffered  death  for  claiming  to  be  the  ISIessiah 
(ilk  U^'"*''),  it  is  evident  tliat  those  who  afterwards 
proclaimed  Him  as  such  must  run  the  risk  of  sharing 
a  fate  like  His. 

2.  Due  stress  must  be  laid  on  the  fact  that  the 
object  of  denial  is  the  person  of  Christ,  not  simply 
His  message  or  His  words,  which  in  any  case  derive 
their  ultimate  authority  from  His  person.  It  is 
admitted  that  '  His  earlier  demand  that  men  should 
fulfil  the  condition  of  participation  in  the  Kingdom 
of  God  by  repentance  and  trust  in  the  message  of 
salvation,  became  narrowed  down  afterwards  to  the 
demand  that  men  should  unite  themselves  to  Him 
as  the  Messiah,  and  cleave  fast  to  Him  in  trust' 
(Wendt,  Teaching,  ii.  308).  But  the  force  of  the  con- 
cession is  quite  destroyed  by  the  further  represen- 
tation that  '  union  to  the  person  of  the  Messiah  is 
nothing  else  than  adherence  to  the  message  of  the 
Kingdom  of  God  brou-ht  by  Him'  (p.  310.)  This 
is  to  reduce  the  persi  III  of  t  lie  Messiah  to  a  compendi- 
ous formula  for  Hi.~  iiie  liin-^-,  .imi  imioies  the  fact 
that,  afterthegreat «  oni,.~-ioii  all  a  -aiea  riiilippi, 
Christ  grounded  on  ills  .Me--ia!i>liip  a  claim  to 
absolute  self-surrender  and  self-sacrifice  (Mk  8^^'-). 
Devotion  to  Himself  is  henceforward  made  the 
supreme  test  of  discipleship,  and  tlie  withdrawal  of 
such  devotion  seals  the  doom  of  the  offender  here- 
after. We  are  in  a  region  where  jjersonal  relations 
and  obligations  are  everything ;  wliere  the  injury 
done  by  denial  is  not  measured  by  the  rejection  of 
a  message  merely,  but  by  the  wound  inflicted  on 
One  who  has  rendered  unparalleled  services. 

3.  It  is  the  rupture,  though  but  for  a  moment, 
and  without  deliberate  intention,  of  tender,  inti- 
mate, personal  ties  by  the  act  of  tlie  disciple,  that 
renders  the  great  denial  of  the  chief  Apostle  so 
attecting  an  incident  (Mt  26«^«'-,  Mk  U"- 66-72^  Lk 
22"fl^-,  Jn  18>5-i8.25-K).  His  fall  is  the  more  sur- 
prising by  reason  of  Christ's  clear  announcement 
of  it  beforehand,  and  Peter's  strong  protestations 
of  fidelity  (Mt  26"'-  ||  Mk  14»'-,  Lk  22=»'-",  cf.  Jn 
13'"-).  Deep  as  the  fall  was,  however,  care  must 
be  taken  not  to  exaggerate  its  criminality.  That 
the  thrice-repeated  denial  was  due  to  want  of 
faith  or  devotion  on  the  Apostle's  part,  there  is 
nothing  to  show.  It  was  indeed  ardent  attach- 
ment to  Christ  that  led  him,  after  his  hasty  re- 
treat, to  follow  at  a  distance,  and  seek  admission 
to  the  house  of  Annas,  ijefore  whom  the  prelimin- 
ary examination  of  (Dhrist  took  place.  He  was 
determined  to  keep  near  his  Master,  and  it  was 
doubtless  this  very  determination  that  betrayed 
him  into  sin.  When  challenged  in  the  porch  by  the 
maid  who  kept  the  door,  he  gave  an  evasive  reply 
(Jn  18'',  Mk  14«8),  fearing  that  to  own  his  disciple- 
ship would  lead  to  his  e.xclusion  from  the  premises. 
When  taunted  later  on  with  being  a  disciple  by  the 
rou^h  servants  gathered  round  the  fire  in  the  court- 
yard (Jn  18"-^),  he  denied  it  in  more  categorical 
fasluon,  hoping  therebj'  to  evade  further  remarks, 
and  avoid  the  summary  ejection  which  would  have 
followed  the  detection  of  his  previous  falsehood. 
Having  travelled  so  far  on  the  do%\'nward  path,  it 
became  well-ni<'h  impossible  to  turn  back,  and  on 
being  charued  by  one  of  the  kinsmen  of  Malchus 
with  haviiij  1^. -  n  ^■.  ii  a  Christ  in  tlie  garden  at  the 
moment  m  ,  M\ereome  by  fear  that  he 
might  be  .  "Uiit  for  his  rash  act,  he 
denied  lii^  \la  ii  1  i.  :  ilie  tliird  time,  and  backed 
up  his  denial  with  oaths  and  cur.ses  (Jn  18'-«'.,  cf. 
ilt  26''').  It  has  been  suggested  that  his  falsehoods 
would  sit  lightly  on  his  conscience,  on  the  ground 
that  he  felt  justified  in  giving  no  kind  of  infor- 
mation about  himself  or  his  Master  which  might 
compromise  a  movement  which  he  imarined  was 
but  temporarily  arrested.  He  probably  experi- 
enced no  scruples  in  deceiving  his  Master's  enemies, 
especially  as  this  seemed  the  only  way  of  carrying 


DEPENDENCE 


DEPENDENCE 


445 


ear  to  Christ  as  possible 
witliout  risk  of  detection.  But  wlien  all  due  allow- 
ance is  made  for  the  excellency  of  his  motives,  his 
conduct  is  utterly  indefensible.  When  he  affirmed 
so  confidently  tliat  he  was  ready  to  go  to  death, 
what  he  thouglit  of  was  a  jjublic  testimony  to 
Christ,  for  whom  he  counted  no  sacrifice  too  great. 
'  A  great  deed  of  heroism  is  often  easier  than  loyalty 
in  small  things,'  and  Peter,  ^^■ho  had  courage  enough 
to  defend  his  JNIustcr  at  llio  cost  of  his  life,  displayed 
lamentable  weakness  in  a  minor  emergency.  The 
sound  of  cock-crow,  aiin<mncing  the  approach  of 
dawn,  was  a  painful  reminder  that  he  had  proved 
lacking  in  genuine  lidelity,  and  false  to  the  pledges 
so  recently  given.  But  tliat  his  love  to  Clirist  still 
remained  the  same,  was  abundantly  evidenced  by 
his  subsequent  act  of  sincere  contrition. 

W.  S.  MONTGOMEEY. 

DEPENDENCE.— 1.  The  feeling  which  impels 
men  to  look  up  to,  and  depend  upon,  a  Power  higher 
and  other  than  tliemselves  is  essentially  human, 
universal,  and,  in  the  )insilion  wliich  it  occupies  in 
their  lives,  most  iiromincnt.  It  supplies  them 
with  an  intuitive  hope,  mIucIi  is  quickened  by 
their  sense  of  need  and  helplessness,  that  this 
Power  will  supply  their  ^^•ants,  and  fill  the  mysteri- 
ously void  places  of  their  being.  This  hope  finds 
expression  in  the  universal  desire  for  communion 
with  that  Power  by  prayer,  worship,  sacrilice,  :uiil 
so  on.  Some  of  the  most  beautiful  asiiiialinns 
which  breathe  out  of  the  Psalms  of  the  .lc\vi^ll 
Church  are  the  outcome  of  men's  lon;;in,L;  after 
and  dependence  upon  God  (cf.  Ps  42.  73-'"-'  lOH. 
139,  etc.) ;  and  when  the  Psalmist  sings  '  My  soul 
cleaveth  (nfjai,  LXX  eKoW^eij)  after  thee'  (Ps  63*),  he 
is  putting  into  words,  suited  to  his  own  individual 
experience,  the  same  idea  which  St.  Paul  says, 
in  his  address  to  the  assembled  Athenians,  is 
universally  human  (ftji-e?;'  t6i'  dedv,  Ac  17"').  A 
direct  relationship,  Avliicli  is  jpcisonal,  is  every- 
where in  the  OT  poslnlilid  i.  f.  ..7.  (In  5---'-*  6», 
Mai  2",  Am  3')  as  exiMm;,  1,..|»,.„  .ieliovah  and 
His  peo]ile.  On  the  one  .-.idi-  i-;  I  In-  Supreme  Per- 
sonal Will  which  prujecls  1|m;1i  into  a  world  of 
created  intelligences,  either  iu  tliu  furm  of  law 
objectively  revealed  (Dt  5^  cf.  tlw;  pr<i]ihelic  for- 
mula, 'Thus  saith  the  Lord'),  or  in  that  form 
which,  in  the  words  of  the  writer  of  the  Fourth 
Gospel,  'coming  into  the  world  liglitens  everv 
man'  (Jn  P,  cf.  Ro  2'=,  Jer  31-).  Un  the  otlier, 
there  is  the  being  made  in  'His  own  image'  (Gn 
l=6t.  51  gG_  pf  1  Qo  117^  j^.^  3,,_  ^^^.  1^3^  -^vis  2-=), 
whose  life,  touching  His  life  at  all  points,  owes  its 
existence  to  the  continued  exercise  of  His  will  (cf. 
Ac  il^). 

We  have  here,  not  the  antithesis  of  eternal  and 
temporal,  finite  and  infinite,  so  much  as  an  em- 
phatic synthesis  eft'ected  by  a  close  personal  re- 
lationship, iu  which  we  may  say  consists  all  that 
is  essentially  true  in  religion.  The  error  into 
which  Schleiermacher,  for  example,  fell  when  he 
made  religion  consist  in  a  feeling  of  depend' 


(Ahhdngigkeit) 
error  oif  defccl,  -.<• 
element  of  !'(  i-(.i 
Christliche  Gbmh. 
be  a  mistake  no  li;- 
from  the  domain  c 
one  of  the  ultimat 


is  obviously  an 
account  the 
.1  to  (see  his 
imo  it  would 
e  this  feeling 
life  ;  for  it  is 
being,  finding 


expression  in  a  variety  of  ways  according  to  the 
individual  life  which  is  lived. 

2.  The  sense  of  dependence  upon  God  is  seen  most 
clearly  and  fully  in  tlie  life  of  .Jesus  Christ.  It  is 
focussed,  as  it  were,  in  tlie  story  of  the  Incarnation, 
and  in  the  cir.uni>fau.-,  ,  in  which  the  Incarnate 
life  was  ]iassc.l  fimn  iliiMlioo.l  onwards.  In  this, 
as  in  other  rrspeiis,  Mk:!  IiIc  is  the  epitome  of  all 
that  is  true  in  i\u;  lite  oi   man.     The  time  when 


the  foreordained  '  mystery  of  God '  ( 1  Co  2',  cf .  Eph 
33-5  gi9^  Col  l-"'-)  should  be  revealed,  depended  on 
the  wisdom  and  will  of  the  Father  (Gal  4^  cf.  Mk 
P'^).  The  manner  of  its  revelation  was  conditioned 
by  the  laws  of  motherhood  ('made  of  a  woman, 
made  under  law,'  Gal  4-',  cf.  Lk  2",  where  the 
natural  law  of  parturition  is  referred  to  explicitly), 
and  the  safety  of  the  Divine  Child's  life  depended 
on  the  vigilance  of  Joseph  (Mt  2''-'-^)  no  less  than 
on  the  maternal  tenderness  and  love  of  His  motlier. 
His  e<lncation  -was  that  of  a  Jewish  child  iu  a 
]iious  Jewish  home,  where  the  language  spoken  was 
the  current  '  Hebrew'  or  Palestinian  Aramaic  (see 
a  vei-y  useful  article,  '  The  Dialects  of  Palestine  in 
the  time  of  Christ,'  by  Ad.  Neubauer  in  Siudia 
Biblicci,  vol.  i.  pp.  39-73  [Oxford] ;  with  this  we 
may  compare  a  similar  discussion  by  J.  B.  Mayor 
in  his  Epistle  of  .SY.  Jrancx),  which  was  Jesus' 
mother-tongue  (cf.  M  k  3"  5^'  7^"'  U'^  15",  Jn  I" 
Mt  5--).  In  point  of  fact,  it  is  not  too  much  to 
say  that  He  was  governed  in  His  earthly  life, 
physical  and  intellectual,  by  the  ordinary  laws 
of  nature.  If  He  violated  these  laws,  even  in 
the  interests  of  His  work.  He  had  to  pay  the 
penalty  which  nature  inexorably  demand's  (cf. 
Mt  4=  =  Lk  42,  Mk  lP=  =  Mt  21",  Jn  4«  19=»,  and 
Mt  S^-"). 

In  the  moral  sphere  we  observe  the  same  pheno- 
menon, which  finds  a  prominent  place  in  the 
( 'hristological  teaching  of  the  Epistle  to  the 
Hebrews.  Even  as  we  are,  so  is  He,  'compassed 
with  infirmity '  (5-).  Like  ourselves  in  all  things, 
'apart  from  sin.'  He  sullercd  from  the  assaults  of 
tem]itation  {i'\  cf.  -J'").  He  had,  as  we  have,  to 
learn  slo\\ly  ami  «ilh  ].aiu  the  moral  virtue  of 
obeclicmc,  nol\\  ilhslamlinu  the  unique  character  of 
HisSonsliip  (,')~).      In   llim   aUo  the  law,  by  which 

mitsi...!',  aUl'iomJi  I'lie  l.',-i.i'i  Mas  l,ard  C-"",  cf.  5", 
7-«).  'I'liat.l.-sus  was  lullv  ,on-r|.,n,s  uf  the  neces- 
sity of  this  l.ilior  i'\|irii.i,.e  i>  s,.,.u  from  His  own 
saying;-,  in  whi'li  Ho  .h^lns  t  ho  thii'a.tened  per.secu- 
lion  of  lleroil,  and  wlii.h  ooiilaiiis  tlie  same  verb 
as  is  used  iu  Hebrew^,  to  dumite  the  final  cause  of 
His  suH'erings  (riXfiovfiai,  Lk  13^-). 

Even  in  the  sphere  of  His  mental  life  we  find 
Him  depending  on  the  laws  \\hich  govern  intel- 
lectual growth  universally.  Side  by  side  with  His 
[ihysical  growth,  as  the  Lukan  narrative  tells  us, 
there  was  a  corresponding  exjiansion  of  His  intel- 
lectu.al  and  sjiiritual  faculties  ('I-z/o-ors  TrpoiKovTev 
Trj  ao(pit^  Ktti  i]\iKLi^  Kai  x^/"^'  '^■'"■^■,  Lk  -''",  with 
which  we  may  compare  tlio  woi.ls  in  v.^",  where 
the  participle  7r\))poiV«i'oi/  in  ir.n  imiri  ion  with  croipia 
is  a  distinct  assertion  of  cmiiinnous  ami  gradual 
development).  Nor  have  we  any  just  reason  to 
suppose  that  the  operation  of  this  law  ceased  a,t 
any  given  stage  in  His  life.  On  the  score  of  credi- 
bility it  will  be  found  as  difficult  to  believe  that 
gradual  growth  along  these  lines  ever  found  a 
place  in  Jesus'  life,  as  to  believe  that  it  entered  so 
completely  into  tlie  %\'arp  and  woof  of  His  experi- 
ence that  it  accompanied  Him  all  through  His 
life,  even  to  the  very  end  (cf.  art.  '  The  Baptism, 
Temptation,  and  Transfiguration :  A  Study,'  in 
Ch.  Quart.  Rev.,  July  1901).  There  is  no  period  in 
the  life  of  Jesus  when  we  can  say,  'at  this  point 
He  ceased  to  learn,  or  to  advance  towards  per- 
fection' (reXeicjiTis,  cf.  'Additional  Note' on  He  2'" 
iu  Westcott's  The  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews).  His 
lesson  was  only  finally  'learned'  in  its  entirety 
when,  yielding  Himself  unreservedly  into  His 
Feather's  hands.  He  became  'obedient  unto  death, 
yea,  the  death  of  the  cross'  (Ph  '2"),  and  'the 
author  (alTw'A  of  olrn.,.!  s.-ilv.ation '  (He  5»)  to  all 
wlio  .-iro  so  fai  11:111,1k.  1  of  His  Life  that  they  too 
Icaiii  tho  nHMiiiiiL  oi  |ii  ifect  obedience  (inraKoi]). 
See  art,  AcojMMiii..ui.).\,  p.  15. 


DEPENDENCE 


DEPENDENCE 


In  close  connexion  with  what  we 
repeated  di^vowal  bv  Jesus  of  all  int 
will  (ct  TO  «iXra«  Ti  ;'^.,,  Jn  5M  C  w,  se 
=  Lk  22«).  His  complete  depcnden.c 
raay,  perhaps,  sujrtrest  fewer  difficuUit 

i:«„   .i;_„   ii:., 1.: „   ; — ;„* ; 


tiave  been  savinjr  is  the 
ntion  to  assert  His  own 
also  ,Mt  2(PS.  42=  jik  1436 
3n  the  will  of  His  Father 
•■,  to  the  student  of  Jesus' 
I  setting  that  will,  as  it 


life  than  Hi 

must  remember  that  by  tliis  differentiation  He  deliberalelj 
reminds  us,  again  and  a;;ain,  how  complete  His  subordination, 
in  the  sphere  of  His  human  existence,  has  become,  not  only  in 
word  and  deed,  but  also  in  His  inner  life  of  thou;,'ht  and  inten- 
tion. He  has  laid  aside  the  power  of  doiir^^  anvthiii','  'of  liiiiiself ' 
(Jn530),  because  the  will  of  His  Fatherly  fur  Him  the  ulijeet  of 
thought  and  loving  service  (^^ti  .  ,  .  :y-  ^  .  .  .  79  i<;>.;.ux  voV 
T!>4«.-ro,-  ^0-  The  accomplishing  of  the  \Mirk  (4  ■')  \\  hirli  that 
will  has  put  before  Him  is  the  nourishing  susteiianee  (itto» 
/S^oll**)  which  is  necessary  for  the  building  up  of  His  life.  'The 
will  of  God'  (ri  »!i.r,u«  nS  e.o5)  is  the  sovereign  objective  of 
Jesus'  life,  and  perfect  conformity  to  it  in  every  point  is  the 
goal  of  His  life's  work.  Looking  over  the  uses  of  the  word 
(/•*.:;"  in  the  NT,  we  find  that  it  is  almost  universally  used  of 
the  carrying  out  by  others  of  the  purposes  of  God.  the  accom- 
plishment in  the  world  of  that  which  the  Divine  will  ordains  for 
execution  (for  other  usages  of  this  word,  see  Jn  l",  Lk  23-'', 
etc.).  It  is  in  this  sense  pre-eminentlv  that  the  word  is  used  in 
connexion  with  Jesus'  work  (cf.  Jn  H3«'-,  where  the  will  of  God, 
in  the  redemption  of  humanity,  is  the  objectof  the  Incarnation, 
and  furnishes  the  work  which  Jesus  avowedly  sets  Himself  to 
!  thus  not  surprised  at  the  transference  of 


the  aptest  illustrati( 


by  1 


the  words  of  Ps  411  to  the  work 
Epistle  to  the  Hebrews  ('IJo-..  ix 
111"),  who  sees  in  this  passage 
object  o!  Jesus'  life. 

3.  This  protracted  and  Avilling  subordination  on 
the  part  of  Jesus  had  its  linal  reward  in  that  perfect 
liarmony  between  His  own  and  His  Father's  will, 
which  left  no  room,  in  the  sphere  of  His  human 
activity,  for  anything  but  the  most  complete  com- 
munity of  interests.  Looking  at  this  side  of 
His  life,  we  can  appreciate  the  element  in  His 
teaching,  so  constantly  emphasized,  which  in- 
sists on  the  lowliest  and  most  complete  self-sur- 
render in  others.  He,  the  Man  Jesus,  succeeded  in 
bringing  His  human  will  into  absolute  conformity 
with  that  of  His  Father,  and  -so  He  teaches  men  to 
pray,  'May  thy  will  be  done  ...  on  earth'  (Mt 
6'",  cf.  26^=  =  Lk  22^-).  Our  right  to  participate  in 
the  privileges  of  that  family  relationship  which 
Jesus  is  not  ashamed  to  own  (He  2")  depends  on 
the  fidelity  with  which  we  enter,  by  our  actions, 
into  the  spirit  guiding  His  own  work  (see  Mt  12^"). 
This  is  the  touchstone  bj-  which  men  shall  be 
ultimately  tested,  and  by  which  their  right  of 
entry  into  the  Kingdom  of  heaven  shall  be  decided 
(Mt  7="). 

i.  Nor  must  we  forget  that  this  phenomenon  is 
obser^-able  in  Jesus'  relation  to  His  fellow-men. 
And  here  it  is  significant  to  note  that,  althougli 
.•il«;iy^  uilling  to  exercise  the  i.riM..,L.'.-ilivc-  ..f  His 
I  ii\  ii;.- Suii-liip  in  favour  of  the  di-trr-^i'd.  yet  He 
iii'MT  \M  irks  a  miracle  on  His  own  l.i.li;ill.  If  He 
i.-.  liuiigry  ur  thirsty.  He  trusts  to  tlie  kindness  and 
goodwill  of  others  (Jn  4'  19=8t-,  Mt  21'"-  4='^-,  Mk 
jis. 31)  xi,g  ]ack  of  -sympathy  has  a  nrarked  effect 
on  the  power  of  His  iiiinistrations  ('And  he  could 
there  do  no  mighty  work,'  Mk  6'),  and  He  recog- 
nizes that,  in  certain  eases  at  least,  the  exercise  of 
His  power  of  miraculous  healing  may  be  marred 
or  promoted  by  the  absence  or  presence  of  a  .sym- 
patiietic  trust  on  the  part  of  those  with  v  liom  He 
IS  dealing  ('All  things  are  possible  to  him  tluit 
believeth,'  -Mk  9=a,  see  Mt  9="-,  witli  wlii.li  we 
may  also  compare  a  remarkable  extension,  in  the 
application  of  this  rule  to  the  sufferer  whose  friends 
stand  sponsor,  as  it  were,  for  his  faith  and  trust 
[ttiv  Tr'uTTiv  airrCiv,  Mt  9-]).  Indeed,  the  presence  of 
a  captious  spirit  in  His  hearers  moved  Him,  on 
more  than  one  occasion,  to  indignation  or  grief 
(cf.  /irr'  ipyii%,  Mk  3^ ;  f^Spi/ioi/icj'ot,  Jn  11^),  feelings 
which  were  .ilsn  aronsed  in  His  breast  by  any 
.tction  ten.linj  to  -title  in  others  the  expression  <)f 
their  tm-t  in,  -.r'A  -ynipiithy  with.  His  work  and 
J'ersoiii.  I    it'      III   itic  verb  i77aKdKT))(rci',M  k  lO"). 


.Mt  '2610,  Mk  »^■^■ 


For  t'he  use  of 


the  same  ^erl.iTl  Mk  -J''!  ll.iiAr.',!.  tS  IIit^). 
he  verb  •miz/A'ris-i^a.i,  which  is  almost  confined 
npare  Mk  35=  Lk  Gl",  -Mk  33-1  lO^!.  Even  when 
question  of  the  profound,  vital  union  of  Him- 


!that 

eir  attitude  to  Him.  The  ini- 
'  (Jn  lo-*)  is  supplemented  by 
nterpreted  as  contain' 


with  those  who  belie\< 
His  work  is  conditioned 
perative  clause  'abide  ii 
another  clause,  which  ma} 

tingent  promise,  '  I  will  on  that  condition  abide 
more  probably,  as  a  complementary  imperative,  'permit  me  to 
abide  in  you.'  In  either  case  it  is  true  to  say  that  Jesus  here 
recognizes  and  teaches  the  doctrine  that '  the  freedom  of  man's 
will  is  such  that  on  his  action  depends  that  of  Christ'  (see 
Plummer's  '  St.  John '  in  Cambridge  Greek  Testament,  in  loc). 

5.  Not  the  least  remarkable  feature  in  the  teach- 
ing of  Jesus  is  that  on  which  the  writer  of  the 
Fourth  Gospel  lays  particular  stress.  The  union 
between  Him  and  the  Father  is  so  complete,  that 
He  describes  it  as  a  mutual  indwelling  or  co- 
existence (Jn  ICf*  14"^'-  -■").  He  derives  from  the 
Father,  as  the  ultimate  source  of  each  (Jn  16"), 
both  the  terms  of  the  message  He  delivers  (Jn  8-" 
V^  ij  iuri  diSaxfi,  12''')  uiid  tlie  j. ewer  which  renders 
His  work  '  coincident  :iiiil  ( cH\istent  with  that  of 
the  Father' (Jn  5'^  .-.e  Wi-t.  ..its  Gospel  of  St. 
John,  in  lac).  Jesus  ruiuses  tu  claim  the  right  or 
even  the  ability  to  act  separately  from  the  Father, 
and  the  character  of  His  works  is  determined  by 
the  fact  that  it  is  not  He  Himself  who  is  the 
author  of  them,  but  the  Father  dwelling  in,  speak- 
ing and  acting  through  Him  (cf.  Jn  5™  14'").  It  is 
quite  true,  in  a  very  real  sense,  to  say  with  West- 
cott  that  '  Christ  places  His  work  as  co-ordinate 
with  that  of  the  Father,  and  not  as  dependent  on 
it'  ;  at  the  same  time  it  is  true  in  a  sense  no  less 
real  that  '  the  very  idea  of  Sonship  involves  .  .  . 
that  of  dependence,'  as  will  be  seen  if  we  refer  to 
such  phrases  as  dx'  f/iaiToC  (5^"),  «"t  iiiavrov  (V2^). 
What  this  phraseology  implied,  in  the  mind  at 
least  of  the  writer  of  the  Fourth  Gospel,  will  jier- 
haps  be  better  understood  by  observing  his  use  of 
it  in  other  connexions  (cf.  e.g.  Jn  IP',  where  the 
'  prophecy '  of  Caiaphas  is  made  to  depend  for  its 
validity  on  the  xapiT/ia  inherent  in  the  high  priestly 
office ;  see  also  15*  16'^,  where  the  deeds  done  and 
the  words  .spoken  are  relegated  to  a  higher  source 
than  to  the  energy  possessed  by  the  actors). 

6.  Another  side  of  Jesus'  self-revelation  as  to  the 
condition  of  dependence  in  which  His  spiritual  life 
on  earth  was  lived,  is  to  l>e  found  in  His  doc- 
trine of  our  dependence  upon  Him.  Just  as  He 
can  do  nothing  '  of  himself,'  but  traces  the  source 
of  His  manifold  aeti\-ities  to  the  mutual  indwell- 
ing of  the  Father  and  Himself,  so  He  tells  His 
disciples  they  are  powerless  for  good  if  they  are 
'  apart  from '  Him  (x^P^^  4^ov  ov  &vvaff6e  -kouiv  ovd4v, 
Jn  15=^).  He  is  the  derived  source  of  their  vital 
energj'  in  the  .same  sense  that  the  tree  is  the 
source  of  the  fruit-bearing  life  of  its  branch.  It  is 
significant  that  this  writer  uses  the  same  verb  and 
preposition  {iieiteiv  ev)  to  express  the  nature  of  the 
union  of  the  Father  and  Jesus,  and  that  of  Jesus 
and  those  who  believe  in  Him  (cf.  14'"  15*  etc.). 
The  words  of  St.  Paul  to  the  Athenians,  '  In  him 
we  live  and  move  and  have  our  being'  (Ac  17^),  are 
as  true  of  Jesus  as  they  are  of  all  the  children  of 
men,  '  for  both  he  that  sanctifieth  and  they  that 
are  sanctified  are  all  of  one '  (f  J  ckSs,  He  2").  It  is 
this  very  likeness  {ifj-oia/xa,  Ph  2',  cf.  He  2")  of 
nature  which  makes  interdependence,  in  the  sphere 
of  active  work,  between  Christ  and  believers  a  pro- 
minent feature  in  all  sound  Christologies  (cf.  Mk 
16=",  1  Co  3»,  2  Co  6').  The  well-known  Pauline 
€-  XpL<rrf  (cf.  2  Co  5",  1  Co  1.5--,  Col  1=»  etc.)  is 
balanced  by  the  no  less  Patiline  Xpio-Tos  4v  v/J-'tv  (llo 
8'",  Co  l*,  cf.  Eph  3'",  Gal  2-"). 


DEPENDENCE 


DERELICTION 


447 


Life  in  Christ  is  the  normal  condition  of  re- 
deemed laimanity  (1  Co  15--).  As  the  head  is  the 
seat  of  the  vital  functions  in  the  human  body,  and 
without  the  head  the  body  is  lielpless  and  lifeless, 
so  Christ  is  the  source  of  the  Church's  life  and 
energy  (Eph  4'='',  Col  1'*  2'"  etc.).  Her  capacity 
for  development  springs  directly  from  Him,  con- 
sidered in  relation  to  His  place  in  )ier  constitution 
(Eph  2""-),  and  it  is  impossilile  even  to  concei\'e  of 
the  Church  apart  from  this  rclnticnshi]!  (1  Co  3")- 
'The  Head,"tlie  cliicf  cuinci ->t,.uc,'  'tlie  founda- 
tion,' are  the  jirincijial  ruiiliiie  f<.rmul:i-  used  by 
tlie  Apostle  to  picture  the  inystcrinus  nature  of  a 
union  upon  which  the  very  existence  of  the  Church 
depends.  The  symbol  of  the  marriage  relation- 
ship, with  all  the  consequences  involved,  is  not  only 
found  in  the  Johannine  idealism  (Rev  19'  2P- "), 
but  discovers  itself  underlying  St.  Paul's  ideas  as 
to  the  nature  of  the  tie  which  binds  the  Church  to 
Christ,  in  its  aspect  both  of  loving  equality  (Eph 
5^*'-)  and  of  dependent  subordination  (Eph  5-*'  '^}. 

Relative  to  what  we  lla^■e  been  sayiiif;,  it  may  not  be  amiss  to 
recall  the  difficult  words  of  St.  Paul,  which  eniphasize  this  side 
of  a  mysterious  truth— 'Now  I  ...  fill  up  on  my  part  that 
which  is  lackini^  of  the  afflictions  of  Christ  in  my  flesh  for  His 
body's  sake,  which  is  the  Church  '  (Col  V^\  cf.  the  strange  trans- 
lation of  this  sentence  in  Moffatt's  The  Historical  Jfietv  Testa- 
ment-). It  is  as  if  the  Apostle  said  that  Christ  is  still,  in  a 
certain  sense,  subject  to  His  Father's  disciplinary  control  (cf. 
Ac  9i,  Jn  15"),  where  the  Father,  as  the  husbandman,  prunes 
the  branches,  and  consequently  the  tree  out  of  whicli  the 
branches  grow.  The  tribulations  and  disappointments  whicli 
the  Church  experiences  from  age  to  age  are  nia?iifestatioiis  of 
the  same  spirit  of  unbelief  and  o]»iiositi(in  eTirouiitcrtd  by 
Jesus  during  His  work  on  eanh  fTn  ifi^-'i  i"'-*  "■>.  Nu- r.u');' 
we  to  be  surprised  if  we  ohv.  I    .    1 1,;^  i    :,i  u.i. -I   ili-n],,    ri 

hostility  in  one  form  or  anntji,  I    I  i  Mmh     : 

that  it  would  be  so,  and  that  II. 

He  said  that  the  world  wouM  h  J.    i      ,        ,  

influence  of  that  body  which  pi  ul.^,^,^  1..  .1  r :  ,i  ''  ui  in 
from  His  Life  (cf.  Lk  tJ22  2in.  jil  HP-  -1 ',      r 

The  other  side  of  the  same  truth  is  n.  ' 

who  taught  that  the  conscious  recoKiiii  I'll        '■<•  >      ■ 

the  lives  of  His  followers,  and  the  coTisLi|ii.  11'  i.  :  ^  .!   j i,m[i 

towards  the  latter,  will  not  escape  His  nuLnt-iri.  iv  cicwarj  o-ri 
X/j.<rT«D  io-Ti,  Mk  O-ll,  and  ik  ittna.  /*«0«-r5i;,  Mt  lllJ-).  Kee  also 
Mt  25-"*- *-■',  where,  in  His  solenm  portraiture  of  the  Judgment 
Day,  Jesus  emjihasizes  the  great  truth  of  His  self-identification 
with  all  who  have  their  lives  grounded  in  Him  (ef.  -mvim  ri. 

7.  AVe  must  not  close  our  consideration  of  tlii 
subject  without  referring  to  a  feature  of  the  Chri.- 
tian  life  whicli  is  supiilementary  to  and  dependeni 
upon  the  foregoing.  Tlie  life  of  tlie  believer  is  not 
bounded  by  his  own  immediate  interests,  althouf;li 
as  an  individual  that  life  is  immeasurably  enrichcil 
and  ennobled  by  its  personal  contact  with,  and 
share  in,  the  Incarnate  Life  of  Jesus  Christ.  In 
the  parables  of  the  Vine  and  the  Good  Shepherd 
He  leads  to  the  conclusion  (hat  all  His  discijiles 
stand  in  a  relationship  to  eaih  otiirr  of  the  closest 
kind.  There  is  an  interdciicndi'iir,.  l.rl«crn  them 
which  springs  out  of  thcii  loniiiion  iil;il  ionsliip  to 
Christ  tlieir  Head.  Thisliuth  is  csp.Mially  dwelt 
on  by  St.  Paul  in  his  reasoiiiiij;  on  the  variety  of 
^vork  but  unity  of  jjurpose  w'liich  characterizes  the 
lives  of  professing  Christians  considered  in  their 
corporate  capacity,  and  as  constituent  parts  of  a 
great  whole.  No  individual  life  can  be  considered 
as  self-centred  in  the  sense  of  its  being  indepen- 
dent of  the  lives  of  its  fellows.  However  uncon- 
scious one  may  be  of  the  fact,  it  nevertheless 
remains  true  tliat  no  single  member  of  '  the  body 
of  Christ'  {aCina.  XptjTov)  is  unatiected  by  the 
fortunes  of  its  brethren.  Various  as  are  the  func- 
tions of  the  parts,  vital  as  is  the  dependence  of 
each  on  Him  in  whom  their  common  life  has  its 
roots,  it  is  still  the  truth  that  the  fulness  of  the 
life  of  every  individual  is  aHected  by  the  joy  or 
the  .sorrow,  the  strength  or  the  weakness,  of  every 
other  (c't.  I  Co  Iji-:",  Oal  3="-,  Col  3",  Eph  S'^'-j. 
The  reco'jnil  loll  oi  ihis  common  share  in  the  one 
higher  liic    is    ncd-sary   as  aiibrding    scope   for 


the  exercise  of  the  greatest  of  all  human  virtues 
iv  dydTTT,,  1  Co  13"). 

The  incapability  of  fully  appreciating  this  fea- 
ture of  Jesus'  teaching,  wliich  is  ultimately  bound 
up  with  His  ideals  and  aspirations,  will  largely 
account  for  the  .signal  failure  of  Christendoni  to 
realize  that  spiritual  as  well  as  visible  unity  of  life 
and  purpose  to  which  He  looked  forward  in  the 
later  stages  of  His  ministry.  Oneness  is  just  the 
characteristic  which  cannot  be  predicated  of  the 
Christian  community.  More  especially  is  this  the 
case  if  Ave  consider  the  nature  of  the  oneness 
aspired  after  by  Jesus  for  His  followers — a  oneness 
which  lias  its  roots  in  llie  Hivinc  life,  and  'in 
which  eacli  ci^n-lil  mni  l.rjn-  is  a  conscious  ele- 
ment in  the  belli-  of  a  vast  wlioli^ '  i[:'a  d;Tir  TfTtXeiu- 
liivoi.  eh  cv,  Jn  17-',  cf.  vv."--'--,  Lo  lu'',  1  Co  l-i'-"  ; 
see  also  Westcott's  Gvspd  of  !<l .  Jolm ,  p.  -JlOf,). 

The  opening  years  ot  the  twmticth  cinluiy  give 
promise  of  a  profonnder  realizaliou  of  this  Divine 
idea;  and  the  cvavinp  after  tuiity,  in  some  sense 
at  least,  may  i--iii'  in  a,  truer  conception  of  the 
inter-relations  of  (lui-tiaii  people,  in  a  real  syn- 
thesis of  tlieiiidi\  idnal's  fnciiomand  his  subordina- 
tion and  dependence  as  a  member  of  that  which  is 
essentially  one  whole  (cf.  iin  d%  dpros,  Iv  <rii/ia  ot 
iroWol  cafici',  1  Co  10").  Perhaps  it  is  not  without 
significance  that,  in  recording  the  prayer  of  Jesus 
for  His  Church,  St.  Jolin  uses  the  present  tense  of 
the  verbs  Tnartvu  and  -)ii'uw^w  (Jn  17='-=^),  which 
points  to  the  ultimate,  allieit  gradual,  acquirement 
by  •  tlie  M  ,jrM  •  of  that  faith  and  knowledge  which 
fill-  -]iir!,o  le  of  a  union  so  vital  and  so  profound 
1    ■  ;ili  iil;M  rd  to  impart. 

.1  .-  W.  R,  Harper's  Religion  and  the  Hifiher  Life 

'   I  ■    t I  very  useful  in  connexion  with  this  subject;  as 

■   !l  .ilso  A.  DoTiier's  Gnindprobleni'   tl- r  !:■  ■  i  ininyf.hdnsophiet 
■       'lallv  Lecture  II.  in  that  volume.     \i  '  ■'(  St. 

!•:  iind  The  Epistle  to  the  Ueh,.„.  niil.ices 

1^  lielpful;  as  also  his  rft?-i'.s7)/,«  T'l'/i  i       .  ..      Imania- 

I    .n  andCommon  Life.^ndChrisl,„,>    :  '   /        ,ri.(:.B. 

Stevens,  TAc  77,.  ci/.;.i,  1. MA-  A--  /  I:  \\.,-,.l:,l,tical 

The.oloijy  of  the  y  I     lii    i,  /.- /ivm/i  ;  Wendt, 

LehreJesu.VAvd^'    i;    ,.  1    '  i  ■'     l\- nofir  Theory; 

Urnce,  TheHin„>  ..      ,.,/,,     .  ,  i..  ,.  ,  /■.    .  ,  fw/,n„,w,„  S«ft- 


Dli:   'Communii 


y,  Kece  11„ 


If?', 


ee  also 
Robin. 


His 


ii\    h     (S.   C.  Gayford).  'Kingdom  of  God'  (J.  Orr ; 

il  ii    iiiiiy  he  studied  articles  'Messiah'  and  '  Eschato- 

is:inil,ri  ;  whirh  might  be  Studied  in  furijiiii' imn  with  JCders- 
liiiiii  s  77,1-  t.iir  and  Times  of  Jesus  the  M.  .r./'i,  I;  W  fws,  The 
L,_ie  ui  chr,.-.!,  u.  Holtemann,  The  Lite  ,.t  J.    ,<  i 

.1,  i;.  ^Vil,LIs. 

DERELICTION.— Mt  27«=  M  k  l.'.--.  About  three 
o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  when  .lesiis  luid  hung  for 
six  hours  on  the  cross,  the  bystanders  v  ere  startled 
by  a  loud  cry  from  the  meek  Sullerer:  Kli,  Eli, 
Iii,iii(.'az<ili}itani,*  'My  (uid,  my  God,  why  hast 
tin. 11  forsaken  me?'  It  -w tis  a  sentence  from  that 
jisalui  V.  hieh.  says  Tertullian.t '  contains  the  whole 
hrist.'     'What  was  it  that  wrung  from 

exc linu  Kilter  cry?     The  Evangel - 

I  drawn  tlie  \,'\\  aside  and  revealed 
what  Mas  jiassiii^  in  I  lie  Itedeemer's  soul,  and  it 
becomes  ns  to  refrain  fioin  curious  speculation, 
and  recognize  tluit  there  is  here  an  imjienetrable 
mystery.  Yet  it  is  right  that  we  should  seek  to 
enter  into  it  so  far  as  we  may,  if  only  that  we 
may  realize  its  greatness  and  be  delivered  from 
belittling  thoughts. 

An  explanation  has  been  sought  mainly  along 
two  lines.  (1)  Jesus  was  standing  in  the  room  uf 
sinners  nnd  niehiring  vicariously  the  wrath  of 
God.  'I'liis  opinion  is  at  once  un.scriptural  and 
irrational.     It  was  indeed  possible  for  God  to  inflict 

•Ps'JJi  -iFinii'  nc^ '^x  -^N.  For  "ij?  Mt.  gives  Aram. 'Jl?p3:f' 
Mk.  furtlier  aramaicizes  ■'?N  into   '.iSs'.     Cf.  Dalnian,   Words 

t  adu.'Ma're.  iii.  19. 


DERELICTION 


DESIRE 


upon  Jesus  tlie  punishment  which  is  due  to 
sinners  ;  but  it  is  inconceivable  that  He  should 
have  transferred  His  wrath  from  them  to  Him— 
as  it  were  saying,  '  I  will  be  angry  with  Him 
instead  of  them.'  Jesus  never  endured  the  wrath 
of  God.  '  We  do  not  suggest,'  says  Calvin,*  '  that 
God  was  ever  His  adversary  or  angry  with  Him. 
For  how  should  He  be  angrj'  with  His  beloveil 
Son  in  whom  His  mind  rested?'  At  every  step 
of  His  progress  through  the  world  He  A\as  the 
beloved  Son,  and  He  was  never  so  well  pleasing 
to  the  Father  as  in  that  hour  when  He  hung  a 
willing  victim  on  the  cross,  'obedient  even  unto 
death '  (Ph  2*).  His  sacrifice  for  the  sin  of  the 
world  was  not  merely  His  death  ;  it  was  His  entire 
life  of  unspotted  holiness  and  \-icarious  love  (of. 
He  9").  His  death  was  not  the  whole  of  His 
sacrilice,  but  the  consummation  of  it.  He  bore 
the  sin  of  the  world  from  Nazareth  to  Calvary, 
and,  if  God  was  angry  with  Him  at  the  last,  He 
must  have  been  angry  with  Him  all  along. 

(2)  Jesus  was  not  really  forsaken  by  God,  but 
ffis  sotil  teas  clouded  by  the  anguish  of  His  flesh 
and  spirit,  and  His  faith,  hitherto  victorious,  gave 
way.  'We  have  here,'  says  Meyer,  'the  purely 
human  feeling  that  arises  from  a  natural  but 
momentary  quailing  before  the  agonirs  of  death, 
in  every  respect  similar  to  tliat  which  had  been 
experienced  by  the  author  of  the  psalm.'  It  was 
a  'subjective  feeling,'  and  there  was  no  'actual 
objective  desertion  on  the  part  of  God.'  This 
explanation  is  very  inadequate.  At  the  ninth 
hour  the  worst  was  over,  and  the  end  was  at  hand. 
It  is  incredible  that  He  should  have  faltered  then 
after  enduring  the  sharpest  pan^js  with  steadfast 
fortitude.  Whatever  His  dereliction  may  have 
meant,  it  was  no  mere  subjective  feeling,  but  an 
objective  reality,  and  it  came  from  God. 

According  to  the  Wot/enb.  Frwjm.,  tlic  <ry  of  .Tesus  w.i3  a 
despairing  confession  that  His  cai-:  '     •  :  ''    '  1  nl  failed 

Him.    But  He  had  foreseen  the  cr^'—  -  ifliion. 

Accordinf^to  Renan,  it  was  wniiiL.'  r  ;ri^'rati- 

tudeofnien:  *  He  repented  sufTtr-  _  .''The 

/of;io?i  is  indubitably  authentic  ;  it  i-  -  '  ;  s  '  abso- 

lutely credible  passages '(Sucyc.  Urn.  art.  -(..ospcis,  J  lo9). 

If  Jesus  was  indeed  the  eternal  Son  of  God, 
'  bearing  our  sins  in  his  body  on  the  tree  '(IP  2--'), 
it  is  in  no  wise  strange  that  His  experience  at  that 
awful  crisis  should  lie  beyond  our  ken  ;  but  some 
light  is  shed  upon  the  mystery  by  the  profound 
truth,  so  often  reiterated  in  the  NT,  that  it  was 
necessary  for  Him,  in  order  that  He  mi.gbt  redeem 
the  children  of  men,  to  be  identilied  with  them  in 
every  particular  of  their  sorrowful  condition.  That 
He  might  'redeem  us  from  the  curse  of  the  law' 
it  was  necessary  that  He  should  be  '  made  a  curse 
for  us'  (Gal  3'=);  'it  behoved  him  in  every 
respect  to  be  made  like  unto  liis  brethren,  that 
he  might  prove  a  merciful  and  faithful  High 
Priest';  and  it  is  because  'he  hath  himself 
.suffered,  having  been  tempted,'  that  '  be  is  able 
to  succour  them  that  are  being  tempted'  (He 
oi".  18)  The  uttonuost  strait  in  human  experience 
is  the  p.'issaL'f'  tlirnii.:li  fho  valley  of  the  shadow 
of  death,  anl  nntliiiu  l.iit  the  sense  of  God's 
presence  can  lIpm'  ii-  h.irror  (cf.  Ps  23^).  Had 
Jesus  enjovcil  the  imisriousness  that  God  was 
with  Him  in  that  dread  extremity,  He  would  have 
been  exempted  from  tlie  most  awful  exjierienre  of 
the  children  of  men,  and  Hi-  -ym|^athy  Mould 
have  failed  us  preei>cly  where  it  is  most'  needed. 
And  therefore  the  sense  of  the  Father's  presence 
was  withheld  from  Kim  in  that  awful  hour. 

It  was  not  necessary  to  this  end  that  the  Father 
should  be  angry  with  Him.  When  the  eternal 
Son  of  God  became  man.  He  was  made  in  every 
respect  like  unto  His  brethren ;  and  what  differ- 
entiated Him  from  them  was  the  closeness  of  His 
•  ImtU.  ii.  10.  s  11. 


intimacy  with  God  and  the  singular  graces  where- 
with God  endowed  Him.  He  had  a  unique  ac- 
quaintance with  the  Father's  purposes,  but  He 
liad  this  because  the  Father  showed  Him  all  things 
wliich  He  did  (Jn  5™) ;  He  had  marvellous  wisdom, 
Init  it  was  the  Father's  gift  (?"*• ") :  '  the  word 
which  ye  hear  is  not  mine,  but  the  Father's  that 
sent  me '  (14-') ;  He  wrought  miracles,  but  of  Him- 
self He  could  do  nothing  (b^) :  '  the  Father  abiding 
in  me  doeth  his  works'  (14'").  'God,'  says  St. 
Peter,  '  anointed  him  with  the  Holy  Spirit  and 
with  power,'  and  'he  went  about  doing  good,  and 
healing  all  that  were  under  the  tjTanny  of  the 
devil  J  because  God  was  u-ith  him'  (Ac  lO^").  Had 
the  Father  at  any  moment  refrained  from  His 
ministration  and  left  Him  alone,  Jesus  would  have 
been  even  as  the  rest  of  the  children  of  men. 
.Vnd  thus  is  revealed  something  of  the  mystery  of 
the  Dereliction.  That  He  might  be  one  with  the 
children  of  men  in  their  uttermost  strait,  tlie 
communion  of  God  was  withheld  from  His  beloved 
Son,  and  He  passed  through  the  valley  of  the 
shadow  of  death  alone,  without  that  presence 
which  had  hitherto  cheered  and  supported  Him 
(cf.  Jn  10^=). 

LiTEEATCRK.— Bruce,  Humiliation  of  Christ,  Lect.  vii. ;  Dale, 


.Mever  on  Mt  '.;.«>;  Expos.  Tunes,  iv.  lisas)  611  tr.;  tairbairn, 
■Studies  in  the  Life  of  Christ, '  The  Crucifixion ' ;  Mrs.  Browning, 
Cuxcper-s  Grave.  DAVID  SMITH. 

DESERT See  Wildeksess. 

DESIRE. — '  Our  nature  corresponds  to  our  ex- 
ternal condition.  Without  this  correspondence 
there  would  be  no  possibility  of  any  such  tiling  as 
human  life  and  human  happiness  :  which  life  and 
happiness  are,  therefore,  a  result  from  our  nature 
and  condition  jointly  :  meaning  by  human  life,  not 
living  in  the  literal  sense,  but  the  whole  complex 
notion  commonly  understood  by  tlie.se  words' 
(Butler's  Analogy,  pt.  i.  cli.  5,  §  1).  This  is  one 
of  the  observations  of  Bishop  Butler  in  which  he 
anticipates  tlie  conclusions  of  modern  science. 
The  nature  of  man  corresponds  to  external  nature  ; 
organ  and  environment,  faculty  and  its  sphere  of 
operation  arc  in  correspondence.  Man  is  in  rela- 
tion to  the  world  in  which  he  lives,  and  his  whole 
life  is  a  process  of  adaptation  to  the  life  of  the  Uni- 
verse. All  the  endowments  of  his  nature,  whether 
intellectual,  emotional,  or  volitional,  whether  they 
are  bodily  or  mental,  may  fruitfully  be  looked  at 
as  teleological,  as  a  means  towards  the  great  end 
of  living.  The  teleological  relat-on  begins  in  the 
individual  ere  consciousness  awakens  in  him,  and 
he  is  so  constituted  that  he  acts  in  relation  to  the 
environment  ere  he  can  consciously  adapt  liimself 
to  it.  Even  consciousness  may  be  looked  at  as 
part  of  a  process  of  adaptation.  Bishop  Butler 
also  remarks  that  '  the  several  external  objects 
of  the  appetites,  passions,  and  afi'ections,  being 
present  to  the  senses,  or  offering  themselves  to  the 
mind,  excite  emotions  suitable  to  their  nature' 
{I.e.  ch.  4,  §  1).  In  his  view  there  is  not  only  a 
general  correspondence  between  man  and  his  en- 
vironment, but  a  special  adaptation  between  the 
several  aspects  of  nature  and  the  particular  char- 
acteristics  of  man.  Appetites  have  theii'  objects, 
and  these  objects  excite  emotions  in  man  suitable 
to  their  nature.  Passions  and  affections  have  also 
their  objects  and  tlieir  suitable  emotions.  Every 
external  object  makes  its  own  appeal,  and  tlie  in- 
ward nature  of  man  makes  a  response  in  corre- 
spondence with  the  appeal.  Nor  does  the  Bishop 
limit  the  meaning  of  the  word  'object'  to  those 
things  which  appeal  to  man  directly  through  liis 
senses,  and  which  are  presented  to  him,  as  it  were, 
ready  made.     That  there  are  such  objects  it  is  not 


DESIRE 


449. 


necessary  to  atiirm. 
to  man  are  not  lim 
sents  to  him.  W'i 
are  included  not  o: 
to  perceptiiin,  l)ul,  ; 
formed  by  Iniin  'n 
aoliieveineiil  oi  l  he 
the  imagin.-Uidii,  ;u 
are  not  merely  wl 


luid  i«nvniU'il  l.y  tlie  life, 
ii'lloxicin  of  iiiuii.   Objects 
jiresented  to  the  senses, 
but  what  is  presented  to  man  as  constituted  by 
the  experience  of  the  race,  by  the  education  of  the 
individual,  by  the  results  of  art,  science,  poetry, 


philosophy,  and  theology, — in  short,  by  all  the 
wide  interest  with  which  man  has  invested  the 
world  of  his  experience.  Appetites  have  their  re- 
spective objects,  though  even  the  appetite  of  a 
rational  being  has  something  which  transcends 
sense,  and  even  into  apjietite  may  enter  that  ele- 
ment of  infinity  with  which  a  rational  being  invests 
all  his  objects. 

Coming  more  closely  to  the  subject,  we  take  a 
description  of  Desire  from  Professor  Mackenzie : 
'  In  the  case  of  what  is  strictly  called  desire,  there 
is  not  merely  the  consciousivss  of  an  object,  with 
an  accompanying  feeling  of  ]ilcii  irr  -iinl  pain,  but 
also  a  recognition  of  tiii^  i.l,|..i  ;i-:  :i,  ^dod,  or  as 
an  element  in  a  more  or  1.--.  rlr.uh  .Iclined  end' 
{Manual  of  Ethics-',  p.  4li).  Tluce  ukMiients  appear 
in  this  description.  There  is,  lirst,  the  conscious- 
ness of  an  object ;  there  is,  second,  the  feeling  of 
pleasure  and  of  pain  ;  and  there  is,  third,  the  recog- 
nition of  the  object  as  a  good,  or  as  an  element  in 
a  delined  end.  If  all  these  elements  are  involved 
in  Desire,  then  Desire  can  be  experienced  only  by 
beings  who  li\'e  a  rellcctive  life.  They  must  be 
conMicmslwini;s  ;  they  must  have  the  consciousness 
of  .111  ol.jiMl,  1111(1  b(^  alile  to  associate  that  object 
wilh  |ilr.isiirr  ;inil  pain  ;  and  they  must  be  able  to 
rcllec't  on  (lie  <i!)ject,  and  judge  it  to  be  a  good,  or 
an  element  in  a  defined  end.  It  may  be  well  to 
have  a  term  the  meaning  of  which  is  such  as  has 
been  defined  by  Professor  Mackenzie  ;  but  is  Desire 
such  a  term?  "  Is  it  so  in  the  ordinary  use  of  lan- 
guage, or  is  it  so  in  the  accepted  use  of  psycho- 
logical writers  ?  What  of  those  writers  who  define 
the  gotxl  in  terms  of  pleasure  and  of  pain  ?  If  we 
were  to  accept  the  definition  of  the  term  Desire  as 
it  is  set  forth  by  Professor  Mackenzie,  we  should 
be  constrained  to  say  that  the  presence  of  Desire 
always  involves  the  action  of  reflective  judgment, 
the  presence  of  ideas  or  trains  of  ideas  to  conscious- 
ness, and  a  comparison  of  possible  processes  which 
might  lead  to  the  acconijilislnnent  of  a  wished-for 
end.  As  a  consequence,  wesliould  be  compelled  to 
shut  out  from  the  region  of  Doiir  iiol  only  all  the 
lower  forms  of  life,  but  al-ci  .ill  ili.i^'  people  who 
do  not  live  a  reflective  lile.  Ii  ■•  >  m  .  i  In  n,  I  li:il 
the  definition  of  Desire  .ui\en  l.y  I'loie.sor  Mac- 
kenzie is  an  ideal  one.  It  descrilies  Desire  as  it  is 
felt  by  a  fully  developed,  reflective  consciousness, 
a  consciousness  in  possession  of  trains  of  ideas,  and 
of  the  world  as  built  up  of  such  mental  attain- 
ments and  experiences.  Along  tlie  whole  course 
of  mental  growth,  from  the  first  beginnings  of 
conscious  life  up  to  the  complete  attainment  of 
self-mastery.  Desire  may  be  considered  to  be  pre- 
sent, and  to  aftbrd  a  ground  of  action.  As  a  defini- 
tion of  life  must  include  all  living  things,  so  a 
definition  of  Desire  must  include  every  feeling 
which  in  common  language  can  lay  claim  to  be  a 
desire.  There  is  an  element  of  desire  in  every  case 
in  which  there  is  subjective  selection,  or  rejection 
of  one  object  and  the  preference  of  another.  In 
The  simplest  mental  experienee,   oven  in   those  in 


si    (ll. 


ron- 


le  :n  .,hl:ill.e  ot  pam  Or 
e,  1  here  is  I  he  germ  of 
esiilt.  ill  iileasure  attract 


attention.  Movements  which  procure  the  removal 
of  pain,  and  become  inseparably  associated  with 
that  result,  are  elements  in  the  making  of  a  world, 
and  that  world  grows  into  the  world  of  Desire.  It 
may  be  that  reactions  against  the  environment 
correspond  to  stages  in  the  growth  of  mind,  so 
that  we  might  properly  ascribe  Desire  to  movements 
for  the  attainment  of  objects  of  which  the  organism 
is  aware  through  the  senses ;  but  it  is  not  neces- 
sary for  us  to  enter  into  the  discussion  of  that 
topic.  As  Dr.  Ward  says,  '  Provided  the  cravings 
of  appetite  are  felt,  any  signs  of  the  presence  of 
pleasurable  objects  prompt  to  movements  for  their 
enjoyment  or  appropriation.  In  these  last  cases 
we  have  action  determined  by  perceptions.  The 
cases  in  which  the  subject  is  incited  to  action  by 
ideas  as  distinct  from  perceptions,  require  a  more 
detailed  consideration ;  such  are  the  facts  mainly 
covered  by  the  term  "desire"'  (art.  'Psychology,' 
Enci/c.  Jji-it."  vol.  XX.  p.  73 f.). 

Without  entering  on  the  question  as  to  whether 
action  can  be  determined  by  perceptions,  or  the 
further  question  as  to  whether  there  can  be  per- 
ceptions apart  from  something  like  ideation,  we 
are  disposed  to  contend  that  where  there  is  aware- 
ness of  an  object,  and  a  movement  towards  the 
appropriation  of  it,  there  must  be  the  rudiments  of 
Desire.  It  is  not  necessary,  however,  to  discuss  the 
matter,  for  it  is  not  to  be  questioned  that  by  ideas, 
and  trains  of  ideas,  and  ideas,  as  Ih'.  Wardf  points 
out,  '  sufficiently  self-sustaining  to  form  trains  that 
are  not  wholly  shaped  by  the  circumstances  of  the 
present — entirely  new  possibilities  of  action  are 
opened  np  '  (p.  74).  Ideas  anil  trains  of  ideas  form 
elements  in  shaping  a  world  of  desire.  It  is  not 
possible  to  mark  ott'  the  area  where  these  properly 
begin,  any  more  than  we  can  delimit  the  sphere 
of  intellection,  and  say  where  it  begins.  But  for 
our  purpose  it  is  sufficient  that  the  presence  of 
reflective  thought  does  mark  a  terminus ;  on  one 
side  there  is  mental  action  of  a  simpler  sort,  and 
on  the  other  side  the  fulness  of  a  reflective  life. 
But  apparently  there  is  desire  on  both  sides. 

Taking  the  definition  of  Professor  Mackenzie  as 
a  goal  and  an  ideal,  we  ask,  In  what  ways  have 
thinkers  looked  at  Desire  in  the  past,  and  what  is 
the  view  they  take  of  it  in  the  present  hour?  To 
set  this  forth  with  fulness  would  be  a  great  task. 
For  Desire,  t  he  analysis  of  it,  and  the  place  assigned 
to  it,  mark  olf  the  schools  of  philosophy  from  each 
other,  and,  according  as  they  view  it,  it  gives  the 
keynote  to  difi'erent  systems  of  ethics.  From  the 
time  of  the  beginnings  of  Greek  thought  down  to 
the  present  time,  the  attempt  to  find  a  sufficient 
definition  of  Desire  lias  ever  been  renewed,  and  at 
present  till'  ol.l  colli  loveisy  belwecii  i'latoand  the 
So|iliisls  lias  ils  coiinterpaii  in  iIm-  controversy 
lietween  Crecn  ami  his  supjiorters  on  the  one 
hand,  and  Sidgwiek  and  the  various  supporters  of 
Hedonism  on  the  other.  Both  the  theory  of  know- 
ledge and  the  theory  of  conduct  are  involved  in  the 
discussion  of  the  question. 

One  of  the  many  debts  which  the  world  owes  to 
Socrates  is  the  introduction  of  the  conception  of  a 
supreme  end  of  life.  That  there  is  one  end  which 
all  men  seek,  and  that  every  action  must  be  judged 
by  reference  to  that  end,  brought  unity  into  man's 
conception  of  human  life.  Vp  to  ih.-  time  of 
Socrates  men  had  thought  of  comlnct  as  ol.e.lieiice 
to  certain  practical  rules,  useful  fiom  i  he  point  of 
view  of  prudence.  ButSocratos  shoH  cil  i  jiai  men's 
thoughts  and  actions  must  be  1:111.1.1!  hy  Iheir 
desire  for  something  which  they  i.-ar.le.l  a  ,  .lesir- 
able.  Rules  wei'e  simply  the  ways  by  \vlii(h  the 
desirable  end  could  be  obtained.  Illustrations  of 
this  principle  abound  in  the  statements  ascribed 
to  Socrates.  A  religious  man  desires  to  win  the 
approbation  of  the  gods  ;  a  just  man  is  persuaded 


450 


DESIRE 


DESIRE 


that  the  practice  of  justice  will  bring  satisfaction  ; 
a  man  seeks  knowledge  because  it  is  a  satisfaction 
to  know.  Thus,  in  all  departments  of  life  there 
is  some  ilesirable  end,  and  the  thought  of  a  desir- 
able end  actually  defines  Desire  as  it  appears  to 
Socrates. 

While  a  great  advance  was  made  when  the  thought 
of  a  supreme  end  of  life  dawned  on  the  human 
mind,  yet  the  question  arose  as  to  the  nature  of 
the  end,  and  it  received  different  answers.  Is  tlie 
end  pleasure,  or  a  pleasurable  state  of  feeling  ?  Is 
it  the  avoidance  of  pain,  or  is  it  indifference  to, 
pr  superiority  over,  both  pleasure  and  pain  ?  Is 
pleasure— pain,  or  indifference  to  pleasure— pain,  or 
any  other  description  of  the  end  of  life  something 
to  be  referred  to  and  determined  by  the  individual 
man,  or  must  we  bring  the  thought  of  common  life 
to  bear  on  the  solution  of  the  problem?  If  we 
refer  to  the  individual  man  the  power  of  deciding 
what  is  the  end  of  life  and  what  is  desirable  as  a 
means  to  that  end,  are  we  to  think  of  the  end  in 
terms  of  pleasure  as  it  appears  to  the  cultured 
man,  a  man  who  is  familiar  with  ideas  and  trains 
of  ideas,  or  are  we  to  think  of  pleasure  as  it 
appears  to  the  natural  man  ?  All  these  questions 
were  keenly  debated  in  the  schools  of  Greece,  and 
all  of  them  have  a  bearing  on  the  delinition  of 
Desire. 

Nor  is  it  easy  to  say  what  are  the  views  of  the 
great  masters  of  Greek  thought  on  the  question  of 
desire.  It  is  perhaps  comparatively  easy  to  say 
what  were  the  views  of  Aiisi  ippiis  or  of  Epicurus, 
but  not  so  easy  to  say  w  li.il  wrir  i  he  views  of  Plato 
or  of  Aristotle.  Slill  :,  l.iiri  ilrM'ription  may  be 
useful.  Wequotoir I )) .  .Inw.i  i .  ■  I'lato,  speak- 
ing in  tlie  person  oi  S..,i,itr-,  |.,■l^<l■s  iutu  a  more 
ideal  point  of  view,  :iiiil  r\|M(v~lv  i rpn.li.ites  the 
noti..n  that  the  exeli:,ii,L;e  ..f  ;i  I.  U  |,|r:,„ire  for  a 

is  the  virtue  of  ordinary  men  who  live  in  the 
world  of  appearance  ;  they  are  temperate  only  that 
they  may  enjoy  the  pleasure  of  intem)ierance,  and 
courageous  from  fear  of  danger.  Whereas  the 
philosopher  is  seeking  after  wisdom  and  not  after 
lilcas\u  e,  whether  near  or  distant :  he  is  the  mystic, 
the  initiated,  who  has  learned  to  despise  the  body. 


aliMii  oi  III,.  J'/,,ii/,,.  Kor  he  is  compelled  to  confess, 
radiei  i.lui  l.uidy,  perhaps,  that  some  pleasures, 
i.'\  iho^r  whiili  have  no  antecedent  i)ains,  'claima 
place  in  thi.  s.ale  of  goods'  (Jowett's  Plato,  vol.  iv. 
]).  '2'.)i.).  riato  rejects  the  view  that  pleasure  is 
necessarily  iireceded  liy  pain.  'True  pleasures  are 
those  wiiieh  are  given  by  beauty  of  colour  and 
iorni,  anil  most  of  those  which  arise  from  smells; 
those  of  sound,  again,  and  in  general  those  of 
which  the  want  is  painless  and  unconscious,  and 
the  gratification  afforded  by  them  palpable  to 
.sense  and  unalloyed  with  pain'  {Philehnu,  51  A, 
Jowett's  tr.).  He  prepared  the  way  for  the  fuller 
analysis  of  pleasure  and  desire  which  we  owe  to 
Aristotle,  for  lie  showed  that  pleasures  which 
accompany  tlie  ni'tive  iliseliar^'e  of  function  are 
pleasant  in  i!ie,ii.e|ves  :  ihe  phasures  which  are 
truly  desinihh  are  tlie  iJea-in.-,  of  the  wise,  all 
others  are  ;i  ~li,el.i\s  only  (  /e/..  ."is;i  I!).  Thus  Plato 
rejerts  the  eiiii.r  theories  of  movement  and  le 
]phiii -hnieiii .  ill -I  inguislies  pleasures  that  are  pre-  i 
eeileil  l.y  |.aiii  and  want  as  pleasant  only  by  con-  I 
trasi,  .in. I  as  it  were  by  accident,  from  those 
jileasures   which    accomp.iny   .active   discharge    of  I 


function  ;  and  he  sets  forth  as  the  only  true  pleasure 
the  pleasure  of  the  good  man.  Pleasure,  according 
to  Plato,  is  always  a  process  towards  the  normal 
condition  of  a  subject,  and  is  never  in  itself  an  end. 
The  absence  of  finality  from  pleasure  proves  that 
pleasure  taken  by  itself  could  never  be  the  end  of 
life.  The  treatment  of  pleasure  and  pain  is  con- 
ducted by  Plato  always  from  a  moral  point  of  view. 

While  Aristotle  builds  so  far  on  the  results  of 
the  analysis  of  Plato,  yet  he  is  dissatisfied  ^ith 
the  argument  that  pleasure  cannot  be  the  .tiiiiimnui 
bonum  because  it  is  a  mere  process  towards  an  end. 
Pleasure,  he  contends,  is  an  ivipyua  ;  it  arises  from 
the  unimpeded  operation  of  our  faculties  ;  it  arises 
when  an  organ  which  acts  perfectly  comes  into 
contact  with  its  appropriate  object,  just  as  pain  is 
the  outcome  of  thwarted  action  on  the  part  of 
either  a  sensitive  or  an  intellectual  faculty  (Eth. 
Nic.  vii.  12,  1153.  13).  The  moral  value  of  the 
feelings  of  pleasure  and  pain  arises,  says  Aristotle, 
out  of  the  fact  that  by  means  of  them  man  passes 
from  a  state  of  a  merely  cognitive  and  intellectual 
being,  and  becomes  a  moral  and  active  being.  '  It 
is  when  the  sense  perceives  something  as  pleasant 
or  painful  tliat  the  mind  affirms  or  denies  it,  jiur- 
sues  or  avoids  it'  (iii.  7.  2,  431.  8).  Aristotle  has 
ever  before  him  the  unity  and  wholeness  of  luiman 
nature.  He  is  never  merely  intellectual,  and  is 
never  wholly  practical.  He  always  lays  stress  on 
the  corresjjondence  between  the  speculative  and  the 
practical  sides  of  human  nature.  Truth  and  error 
in  the  intellectual  sphere  become  good  and  evil  in 
the  moral  sphere.  What  the  mind  affirms  as  truth 
and  error  in  the  intellectual  sphere  becomes  pursuit 
and  avoidance  in  the  practical  sphere.  In  both 
spheres  the  mind  is  active.  Impressions  in  the 
cognitive  sphere  become,  through  the  activity  of 
the  subject,  objects  of  cognition  ;  feelings  of  plea.sure 
and  pain,  through  a  similar  activity  of  the  subject, 
are  translated  into  objects  of  desire  or  aversion  ; 
become  motives  to  action. 

Two  main  factors,  according  to  Aristotle,  enter 
into  the  conative  nature  of  man.  It  is  difficult 
within  our  limits  to  expound  this  fully.  But,  briefly, 
it  is  that  Desire  and  Reason  must  co-operate  in 
order  tliat  a  moral  conclu.sion  may  be  carried  into 
effect.  Moral  choice  or  wpoalpeiris  may  be  described 
as  voSi  ipeKTiKds,  reason  stimulated  by  desire,  or 
Spe^it  5i.avo-qTi.Kri,  desire  guided  by  understanding. 
The  significant  part  of  the  view  is  that  both  the 
irrational  and  the  rational  elements  must  act  to- 
;;cilii  r  :  desire  and  reason  are  constant  elements  in 
ilistinetive  moral  action.  For  the  merely  logical 
understanding  never  leads  to  action.  Reason,  as 
mere  reasoning,  is  powerless  to  shape  the  will,  and 
mere  appetite  is  quite  as  powerless.  In  order  to 
cause  action,  pleasure  and  pain  must  be  translated 
into  the  higher  forms  of  Good  and  Evil.  Desire 
must  always  have  an  object  {dpeKTiKbv  Si  ovk  dvev 
(pavraaia^  (433".  28)) ;  but  the  object  of  desire  deter- 
mines conduct  only  when  thought  has  marked  it 
out,  defined  it,  and  in  a  word  constituted  it  (tA 
6p€K7tKbv  Kivel  ov  fOTjdTJvfu  7)  (pafTaa&ijvat  (433''.  12)). 

'The  true  object  of  consciousness  in  thia  union  ot  desire  and 

""n.a','""  Ah.l""'!.  i!  ''  '  i  1  I  '.  •.  il.i-  ..l.j.-.i,  of  our  final  wish  is 
ti  ;    rl ii   I  ,ii  lliroufith  tlie  ag^ency  of 


it  which  determines  desire  : 
f  conduct  turns 


It  aspects  of  one  and 
iwn  e\j>erience  it  is 
■inciple  and  startinj^- 

■t  dehnitely  what  is  this  object  of 
iinnes  and  regulates  our  natural 
of  an  idealist.  For  while  the 
I  IS  but  the  apparent  and  relativ  e 
IS  the  absolute  ideal  good  :  and 


DESIRE 


451 


idea  of  good  ns  the  constructive  reason  which  j;;ives  Ijoth  Itnow- 
ledge  and  reality  to  things,  now  finds  the  determining  aim  of  con- 
duct in  an  absolute  ideal  which  constitutes  the  pattern  to  which 
morality  must  raise  itself  (Aristotle's  Psycholocji/  in  Greek  and 
Emjlish,  with  Introduction  and  Notes,  hy  Edwin' Wallace,  M.A., 
Introduction,  p.  cxxiii  f.). 

We  quote  from  Mr.  Wallace,  whose  work  represents  the  high- 
water  mark  of  Aristotelian  exposition,  as  it  sets  forth  in  brief 
space  an  interpretation  of  Aristotle  which  deserves  study.  It 
may  be  that  Mr.  Wallace  has  read  Hegel  into  Aristotle,  but  in 
the  present  case  he  is  right  in  saying  that  for  Aristotle  the  world 
of  desire  is  a  rational  world,  and  that  the  ground  of  conduct  is 
the  union  of  desire  and  reason.  In  short,  the  view  of  Aristotle 
corresponds  to  the  definition  of  desire  set  forth  by  Professor 
Mackenzie.  '  It  is  then,'  says  Aristotle,  'on  good  grounds  that 
people  have  viewed  as  springs  of  action  these  two  faculties  of 
desire  and  practical  intellect ;  for  the  faculty  of  desire  has  itself 
a  motive  force,  and  the  intellect  excites  to  action  just  in  so  far 
as  the  object  of  desire  supplies  it  with  a  starting-point:  just 
as,  similarly,  imagination  when  it  moves  to  action  does  not  do 
so  independently  of  desire.  The  spring  of  action  thus  resolves 
itself  into  one  single  thing,  viz.  the  object  of  desire'  (Wallace's 
tr.  p.  179). 

As  to  the  question  whether  animals  can  liave 
desires,  Ai-istotle  decides  that  '  no  animal  can  have 
the  faculty  of  desire  unless  it  Iiave  imaginative 
power'  (Wallace,  p.  183) ;  but  then,  as  imaginative 
power  is  connected  with  the  reason  or  the  senses, 
so  animals  may  have  the  imaginative  power  con- 
nected with  the  senses,  and  thus  have  what  can 
be  designated  desires.  But  they  do  not  possess  the 
kind  of  desire  wliieh  forms  itself  as  the  conclusion 
of  syllogism,  so  that  their  desire  is  destitute  of 
any  faculty  of  deliberation.  '  In  the  case  of  men, 
however,  sometimes  the  images  of  sense  overcome 
and  move  tlie  rational  volition ;  sometimes,  as  in 
incontinence,  two  things  overcome  and  stir  up  one 
another,  desire  thus  following  on  desire,  mucli  as 
a  ball  that  players  toss  about ;  but  tlie  normal  and 
natural  course  is  always  that  in  which  the  superior 
course  of  reason  is  the  more  supreme  and  stimulates 
to  action'  (pi?.  184-185).  Desire  thus,  according 
to  Aristotle,  implies  deliberation,  choice,  the  use 
of  means  towards  an  end.  In  a  .significant  passage 
in  the  Nicomachean  Ethics  he  says  (we  quote  the 
paraphrase  of  Sir  A.  Grant) :  '  If  the  object  of 
purpose  is  that  which,  being  in  our  power,  we 
desire  after  deliberation,  purpose  will  be  a  desire 
of  things  in  our  jiower.  After  deliberating  we 
decide,  and  form  a  desire  in  accordance  with  our 
deliberation '  (Grant's  Aristotle's  Ethics,  vol.  ii. 
p.  23).  Desire  ranges,  according  to  Aristotle, 
through  all  life.  Wlierever  life  is  in  presence  of 
an  object  there  is  rudimentary  desire.  The  animal 
world  feels  it  in  presence  of  an  object  present  to  its 
senses.  A  self-conscious  being  feels  desire  in  pro- 
portion to  its  realization  of  self,  and  to  its  realiza- 
tion of  the  objects  as  existing  in  an  ordered  world. 
It  is  possible  to  regard  the  teaching  of  Aristotle  as 
containing  in  itself  the  fuller  analysis  of  desire 
as  that  analysis  has  been  conducted  by  English 
Hedonists  and  by  the  English  Neo-Hegelians. 

Were  there  space,  it  would  be  instructive  to 
trace  the  analysis  of  desire,  or  rather  the  descrip- 
tion of  desire,  in  subsequent  philosophical  specu- 
lation. But  that  would  far  exceed  our  limits. 
Nor  is  it  necessary,  for  there  is  not  much  to  be 
added  to  the  result  won  by  Aristotle  until  we  come 
to  the  Utilitarian  school  of  England.  Some  valu- 
able remarks  occur  in  Spinoza's  Ethics,  but  the 
current  of  modern  speculation  on  the  topic  was 
set  agoing  by  Hobbes.  For  the  history  of  the 
process,  readers  may  be  referred  to  Professor 
Watson's  (Kingston,  Canada)  Hedonistic  Theories, 
and  to  Dr.  Albee's  (Cornell  University)  A  History 
of  Enrjlish  Utilitarianism.  In  addition  to  the 
account  of  the  main  ethical  theory  known  as 
Utilitarianism,  and  a  criticism  of  it,  there  will  be 
found  in  these  able  books  a  particular  account  of 
that  doctrine  we  have  immediately  in  li.'iiid.  In 
the  posthumous  work  of  Professor  Green,  l',;,l.<in. 
menu  to  Ethics,  there  h  a  lengtheneil  ami  imi^h,. 
analysis  of  Desire  ;  and  in  the  posthumous  Murk  of 


Professor^  Sidgwick,  The  Ethics  of  T.  H.  Green, 
Herbert  Spencer,  and  J.  Martineau,  as  also  in  the 
various  editions  of  the  Methods  of  Ethics,  we  find 
a  criticism  of  Green.  These  two  works  represent 
the  most  recent,  as  they  also  represent  the  most 
searching,  accounts  of  Desire  which  can  be  found  in 
the  whole  range  of  philosophical  speculation. 

In  the  analysis  of  Desire,  as  in  the  analysis  of 
Knowledge,  the  work  of  Locke  was  epoch-making. 
He  stated  the  problem  in  a  form  which  occupied 
the  thoughts  of  all  his  successors  in  England. 
Berkeley,  Hume,  Hartley,  Tucker,  Stuart  Mill, 
and  Spencer  are  in  the  succession,  and  all  of  them 
attack  the  problem  of  the  will  from  the  point  of 
view  of  pleasure  and  desire.  We  take  the  state- 
ment of  Locke's  position  from  the  admirable 
work  of  Professor  Watson,  Hedonistic  Theories 
(p.  lllf.): 

'  Why  does  the  same  man  will  differently  on  different  occasions  ? 
The  reason  is  to  be  sought  in  the  character  of  Desire  as  the 
imagination  of  pleasure.  To  different  persons,  or  to  the  same 
person  under  different  circumstances,  one  pleasure  presents 
Itself  in  his  imagination  as  preferable  to  another.  Under  the 
impulse  for  knowledge  one  man  will  forget  his  bodily  wants 

study,  and  live  for  the  pleasures  of  sense,  unless  he  is  driven  to 
change  his  course  by  the  stronger  impulse  of  shame.  But  as 
each  man's  desire  is  determined  not  by  him  but  for  him,  and 
the  desire  determines  the  will,  what  he  prefers  in  any  case  is 
that  which  alone  he  can  prefer,  and  freedom  is  a  word  without 

This,  then,  is  the  problem  which  the  majority  of 
English  ethical  thinkers  had  before  them.  A  man's 
desires  are  determined  for  him  not  by  him,  and  the 
desire  determines  the  will.  Nor  is  much  added  to 
the  solution  of  the  problem  from  the  time  of  Locke 
to  that  of  Stuart  Mill.  Hume  had  tried  to  prove 
the  utilitarian  doctrine  of  the  particular  virtues, 
and  Stuart  Mill,  using  the  same  argument,  sought 
to  prove  the  general  principle  of  Utility. 

'  The  sole  evidence,  I  apprehend,  it  is  possible  to  produce  that 
anything  is  desirable,  is  that  people  do  actually  desire  it.  If 
the  end  which  the  utilitarian  doctrine  proposes  to  itself  were 
not,  in  theory  and  in  practice,  acknowledged  to  be  an  end, 
nothing  could  ever  convince  any  person  that  it  was  so.  No 
reason  can  be  given  why  the  general  happiness  is  desirable, 
except  that  each  person,  so  far  as  he  believes  it  to  be  attainable, 
desires  his  own  happiness'  (Utilitarianism,  ch.  iv.).  Farther 
on  in  the  same  chapter  he  identifies  pleasure  and  desire. 
'Desiring  a  thing  and  finding  it  pleasant,  aversion  to  it  and 
finding    it   painful,  are  phenomena    entirely  unseparable,  or 

•  ■    Thusl 


rather  two  parts  of  the  same  phei 

y  to  show  that  people  never  do  desire  anything  save 
:  happiness.    On  this  Sidgwick  remarks  :  '  As  a  matter 


In  truth,  the  Hedonistic  account  of  Desire,  from 
Locke  to  Mill,  and  including  Sidgwick  in  some 
measure,  is  inadequate,  because  it  is  too  exclusively 
psychological.  Psychology,  as  it  is  usually  con- 
ceived, cannot  give  a  full  account  of  Desire.  For 
psychology  deliberately  limits  itself  to  a  description 
of  mental  processes,  events,  and  occurrences,  taken 
in  abstraction  from  the  self  whose  the  mental  states 
are,and fromtheouterworld.    An analysisof mental 

states  can  never  give  a  r plilc  iuiount  of  the 

system  to  which  the  self  liri(,ii;_<,  ;ni.|  of  tlie  interests 
and  values  which  are  Mi.h  li.riu-i  i  li.^y  are  referred 
to  the  self.  Thus  the  |)~yi'lnilM-iral  account  of 
Desire,  and  its  relation  to  will,  set  forth  by  English 
Hedonism,  is  defective,  not  psychologically,  but  in 
reality.  It  is  the  merit  of  Green,  and  sjiecially  of 
those  who  with  him  have  so  fruitfully  worked  at 
ethical  problems  under  the  inspiration  of  Kant  and 
Hegel,  to  point  out  that  mental  and  moral  values 
cannot  be  appraised,  and  cannot  be  the  objects  of 
desire,  if  we  look  at  them  in  abstraction  from  the 
sflf,  .■uid  Iroiii  tJHj  world-system.  In  the  Prolego- 
mm, I  I,,  Etlii.'x  aii.l  in  the  Introduction  to  Hume, 
Civ,. II  ha^  liLHijIit  the  self  in  its  concrete  reality 
within   the  vision  of   English   thinkers.     He   has 


DESIRE 


been  ably  lielped  by  such  -WTiters  as  V 
Muiihead  in  his  manual  The  Elements  of  Ethics, 
by  Professor  Watson  in  Hedonistic  Theories,  and 
Professor  Mackenzie  in  the  Manual  of  Ethics. 
Other  writers  might  be  mentioned,  but  these  will 
suffice  to  show  the  signiticance  of  the  new  de- 
parture in  Ethics,  and  of  the  introduction  of  the 
self  into  English  philosophy.  Desire,  according  to 
Green,  involves  consciousness  of  self  and  of  an 
object,  and  is  to  be  distinguished  froin  instinctive 
impulse,  which  implies  only  the  feeling  of  self.  A 
consciousness  of  self  is  something  beyond  self-feel- 
ing, is  really  a  transformation  of  self-feeling.  Self- 
consciousness  being  also  a  consciousness  of  objects, 
is  thus  the  basis  of  desire  and  of  knowledge.  Even 
in  the  desire  for  food,  what  is  desired  is  really 
some  ulterior  object,  not  the  mere  pleasure  of  eat- 
ing. But  most  of  our  desires  are  for  objects  which 
are  not  directly  dependent  on  animal  susceptibility 
at  all,  or  which,  even  where  so  dependent,  are 
transformed  by  the  addition  of  new  elements  de- 
rived from  self-consciousness  itself.  There  is  a 
real  unity  in  all  our  desires,  only  it  is  the  unity  of 
the  self,  not  the  unity  of  desire. 

'  There  is  one  subject  or  spirit,  wliich  desires  in  all  a  man's 
experiences  of  desire,  undei-stands  in  all  operations  of  his  intelli- 
gence, wills  in  all  his  acts  of  willing  ;  and  the  essential  character 
of  his  desires  depends  on  their  all  being  desires  of  one  and  the 
same  subject  which  also  understands,  the  essential  character  of 
his  intelligence  on  its  being  an  activity  of  one  and  the  same 
subject  which  also  desires,  the  essential  character  ol  his  acts  of 
will  on  their  proceeding  from  one  and  tlie  same  subject  which 
also  desires  and  undersunds'  (Proifgomc-Ha  to  Ethics^,  p.  138). 

It  is  well  to  liave  an  emphatic  statement  of  the 
unity  of  the  thinking,  willing,  feeling  subject 
placed  on  record  ;  for  up  to  Green's  advent  we  were 
allowed  to  see  thinking,  A\'illing,  feeling,  but  the 
self  was  altogether  out  of  sight.  At  the  same 
time,  while  Green  lays  stress  on  the  unity  of  the 
self  in  all  its  activities,  and  rightly  so,  there  seems 
to  lit-  a  .lel'ect  in  his  analysis.  He  seems  to  take 
for  ui^intcd  th;ir  the  self-conscious  self,  in  its  con- 
.scioiiN  :i].iiiihin..i,.n  of  objects  as  desirable,  will 
always  act  -nisely,  prudently,  and  rightly.  But 
does  not  the  self-conscious  being,  in  making  a 
choice,  sometimes  choose  unwisely  and  WTongly? 
As  Sidgwick  points  out,  '  It  seems  to  me  to  be 
fundamentally  important  to  distinguish  between 
choice  (even  deliberate  choice)  and  judgment  as  to 
choice- worthiness,  since  they  may  diverge'  (The 
Ethics  of  T.  H.  Green,  etc.  p.  30).  Are  we  to  hold 
that  a  man,  following  out  what  he  thinks  self- 
interest,  clearly  seeing  the  end  in  view  and  choos- 
ing appropriate  means  for  its  accomplishment,  if 
he  acts  self-consciously,  is  always  acting  rightly? 
For  Green  in  liis  disci liitiun  of  the  self-conscious 
subject  docs  imi  s.. m  i,,  contemplate  the  possi- 
bility of  wr.iuj  .11-  \iri,,iis  action.  He  takes  for 
granted  that  tlic  ynn-,--.  of  the  self-conscious  being 
on  his  way  tow  ards  the  appropriate  action,  towards 
the  satisfaction  he  will  feel  when  the  object  is 
attained,  will  alwaj;s  be  right.  But  may  there  not 
be  all  the  characteristics  of  the  action  of  the  self- 
conscious  being,  as  these  are  described  by  Green, 
present  in  the  coui'se  of  conduct  of  a  man  who 
wades  through  slaughter  to  a  throne?  In  truth, 
there  is  needed  a  further  analysis,  leading  us  beyond 
the  mere  processes  of  a  se^f-conscious  being,  in 
order  to  find  a  justification  for  man's  action.  We 
need  a  better  description  of  the  desirable  than  any 
that  can  be  found  in  Green.  All  tliat  he  sets  forth 
with  regard  to  Desire  and  the  self-conscious  sub- 
ject and  its  action  may  be  true,  and  truly  realized 
in  the  case  of  the  man  who  has  an  unworthy  end 
in  view.  He  may  identifj;  himself  with  his  object, 
he  may  find  satisfaclion  in  the  attainment  of  it, 
and  yet  tlie  choice  m.ny  not  be  worthy. 

It  is  the  e.\i)erience  of  mankind  that  a  man  may 
ni.ike    au  unworth}-  choice,   m.ay  form    a  wrong 


ideal,  may  be  mistaken,  and  yet  may  all  the  time 
act  as  a  self-conscious  being.  So  a  further  criterion 
is  needed  in  order  to  guide  men  in  their  choice,  in 
order  tliat  it  may  be  a  worthy  choice.  True,  the 
values  of  life  lie  in  their  relation  to  tlie  self.  And 
the  realization  of  the  self  is  one  of  the  great  ends 
of  life.  But  the  self  has  to  grow  in  relation  to 
the  ideal,  and  the  ideal  has  to  grow  as  well.  How 
shall  a  man  learn  to  recognize  the  true  ideal,  and 
to  desire  it?  Here  we  ought  to  enter  into  the 
religious  experience  of  man  to  realize  the  fact  that 
man  has  formed  wrong  conceptions  of  life,  has 
worshipjjed  false  ideals,  and  desired  unworthy 
ends.  One  might  pass  into  the  sphere  of  that  re- 
ligious experience  which  has  had  its  highest  ex- 
pression in  the  Scriptures.  There,  too,  we  are  in 
a  universe  of  desires,  and  the  task  of  Scripture  is 
to  teach  man  what  to  desire.  Scripture  recognizes 
the  possibility  of  WTong  desire  leading  to  Avrong 
action,  and  it  also  recognizes  that  towards  the 
making  of  desire  all  the  faculties  of  man  contri- 
bute. Wliat  it  teaches  is  largely  the  reversal  of 
human  ideals :  it  jnits  last  \y\\aX  men  liave  put 
first,  and  it  places  in  the  front  jilace,  as  the  best 
and  mightiest,  what  men  have  despised  and  for- 
gotten. The  self-conscious  being  has  to  be  taught 
something  which  it  would  never  have  learnt 
tluough  the  mere  exercise  of  self-conscious  activity. 
It  is  not  necessary  to  enter  into  an  analysis  of 
Scripture  terms,  or  to  trace  the  history  of  the 
term  '  desire '  through  the  Scriptures.  For  Scrip- 
ture proceeds  on  the  fact  that  men  have  had  wrong 
desires,  false  ideals,  and  have  pursued  wrong 
objects ;  so  it  proceeds  to  teach  them  what  is  the 
really  good,  the  true  ideal ;  and,  further,  to  give 
to  men  the  power  to  recognize  the  good,  the  true, 
and  the  beautiful,  and  to  desire  them.  We  need 
this  education,  and  the  world  of  desire  cannot  be 
really  described  until  we  bring  in  the  revolutionary 
power  of  religion,  and  learn  to  know  that  reversal 
of  human  judgments  inaugurated  by  Christ. 

Here,  too,  the  strongest  influence  in  this  educa- 
tion is  the  commanding  power  of  i)ersonality.  It 
is  not  without  significance  tliat  in  the  last  resort 
Plato  and  Aristotle  were  driven  back  to  the 
concrete  standard  of  the  'good  man.'  Throiigh 
the  influence  of  personality  men  learn  to  recognize 
ideals  and  to  love  them.  Around  personalities 
cluster  the  thoughts,  emotions,  aspirations,  tenden- 
cies which  help  to  form  the  world  of  desire.  It  is 
so  in  the  OT,  where  it  is  said  of  their  devotion  to 
the  living  God  of  Israel :  '  Whom  have  I  in  heaven 
but  thee?  and  there  is  none  upon  earth  that  I 
desire  beside  thee'  (Ps  73^) ;  or,  '  To  thy  name  and 
to  thy  memorial  is  the  desire  of  our  soul'  (Is  26'). 
It  is  recognized  that  there  is  a  world  of  wrong 
desires,  objects  which  the  self-conscious  man  may 
desire,  long  for,  strive  after  ;  and  the  story  of  tlie 
Bible  is  the  attempt  to  implant  in  these  self- 
conscious  beings  the  power  to  free  themselves 
from  that  world  of  false  desire.  In  the  NT  the 
first  step  towards  that  freedom  is  to  bring  men 
into  contact  with  a  li\'ing  personality,  in  whom  is 
sphered  all  perfection,  whose  service  is  perfect 
freedom,  and  through  whom  they  may  learn  what 
to  desire  and  what  to  long  for,  and  what  to  attain. 
The  laws  of  desire,  as  these  are  in  human  nature, 
and  as  they  are  disclosed  to  us  through  research 
and  reflexion,  rule  in  this  sphere ;  but  tlien  they 
have  new  material  to  illustrate  their  working. 

Illustrations  of  the  working  of  Desire  abound 
in  religious  experience.  To  enter  into  them  would 
occupy  us  too  long.  It  need  only  be  said  that 
attachment  to  a  pure  and  holy  Personality,  love  to 
One  wlio  is  the  ideal  of  human  life,  purifies  tlie 
world  of  desire  and  intensifies  the  jiower  of  action, 
^len  who  have  felt  the  exijulsive  power  of  a  new 
allection  and  the  int<;nsive  jxiwer  of  a  holy  love 


DESIRE 


DESPISE 


453 


are  liftod  into  a  now  world,  and  those  who  love 
Christ  learn  tliat  the  world  of  their  desires  is 
formed  hy  Him  ;  they  learn  to  love  what  He  ap- 
proveSj  and  to  hate  a\  liat  He  hates.  The  world  in 
whicli  tliey  live,  the  universe  in  which  their  desires 
terminate,  are  constituted  by  the  Person  and  by 
the  Love  of  Christ.     See  art.  IDEAL. 


Jlednnisti 
viclv,  Methods  of 
ludworth  Hodu- 
i^ . ;  Albee,  A 
Uh.csa/J  S. 
■ ;  .1  imes,  Priu- 


Ethics : 
Theorif  , 
Elhic;  .1 
eon,  T/i, 
Ilistorif 
Mill;  \\ 
ciplea  w 
Theory, : 


Use  of  the  term  '  desire '  in  the  Gospels. — In  AV 
of  the  Gospels  the  word  '  desire '  is  of  frequent 
occurrence.  As  a  noun  it  is  found  only  once  (Lk 
22'^),  as  the  equivalent  of  iTn9vij.ia,  but  in  the 
verbal  form  it  represents  no  fewer  than  8  verbs  in 
the  original  :—e7rifl..M^«  (Mt  13",  Lk  16='  IV"-' 22''!), 
ei\w  (Mk  9=^  Lk  5™  8™  lU-^  20^"),  ahi^  (Mt  20=»,  Mk 
1035 1124  igG.  8_  LI-  23"'),  etoiTi^u.  (Lk  2-2-'i),  (parda  (Lk  7^'^ 
1432,  Jn  1221),  i-^cparai^  (Mt  1(5'),  f,,T^w  (Mt  12-"'- ^7, 
Lk  9"),  irapaKoXia  (Mt  1S=-).  Twice  we  have  the 
adj.  'desirous'  (Lk  23",  Jn  16"),  but  in  both  cases 
the  vb.  9i\u  is  used  in  the  Greek.  In  liV,  however, 
ahiw,  i^aiT^a,  epurdia  (except  in  Lk  7**),  and  iirepwrda 
are  rendered  by  'ask,'  fTjWw  by  'seek,'  and  Trapa- 
KoK^a  by  '  beseech ' ;  so  that  i-mdvixiui  and  0i\oi  are 
left  as  the  two  verbs  which  in  a  more  exact  use  of 
language  have  the  meaning  of  '  desire.'  When  we 
distinguish  between  them,  ewiOvfiioi  may  be  re- 
garded as  denoting  the  desire  of  the  feelings  (ffu/iis), 
W\«  the  desire  of  the  will.  In  the  latter  the 
element  of  purpose  and  resolve  is  usually  more 
strongly  present  (ef.  Jn  8"  rds  iwiOvij.lai  rod  iraTpis 
{jfiCiv  e^Xere  iroiuv).  Sometimes,  however,  Oi\w  is 
used  where  a  distinction  from  eiriBviiiu  can  hardly 
be  pressed  (see  tlie  parallel  passages  Mt  13", 
Lk  lO^''). 

In  the  language  of  Christ  and  the  Gospels,  desire 
in  itself  is,  properly  speaking,  neither  good  nor 
bad,  its  quality  depending  altogether  upon  the 
subject  who  experiences  it  or  the  object  to  which 
it  is  directed.  The  scribes  '  desire  '  to  walk  in  long 
robes  (Lk  20*^) ;  wliile  many  prophets  and  righteous 
men  have  '  desired '  to  see  Christ's  day  (Mt  13"  H  Lk 
lO^-").  The  Prodigal  '  desired '  (<rjre(?LV",  EV  '  would 
fain ')  to  fill  his  belly  wltli  the  liusks  that  fed  the 
swine  (Lk  15'") ;  and  Jesus  said,  '  With  desire  I 
have  desired  (fViSufti?  i-KeOvix-rjaa)  to  eat  this  pass- 
over  with  you  before  I  sutler '  (Lk  22'=).  But  owing 
to  the  corruption  of  the  human  heart,  '  desire '  tends 
to  have  a  predominantly  bad  meaning,  and  so 
iTTLdviila  comes  to  denote  the  sinful  'lusting'  of  a 
sinful  will.  In  Mk  4'''  (•  the  lusts  of  other  tilings') 
the  word  is  ulriNuly  ]i.issing  over  to  this  fixity  of  a 
dark  conndtatiiin  ;  llir  'other  things'  may  not  be 
evil  in  tliemselvcs,  liut  as  they  are  allowed  to  clioke 
the  word  and  render  it  unfruitful,  they  have  to  be 
classed  as  '  thorns.'  In  IMt  5^  exiflu/iTJircu  expresses 
'  lust'  in  the  specific  sense  in  which  it  has  come  to 
be  used  in  modern  speech,  as  unholy  sexual  desire. 
In  Jn  8"  dwiOv/xias  denotes  the  very  '  lusts '  of  the 
devil  as  they  are  seen  reappearing  in  his  children. 

According  to  the  teaching  of  Jesus,  impure  desire, 
apart  altogether  from  overt  acts  of  sin,  is  itself  a 
transgression  of  the  Divine  law  (Sit  5-").  This  is 
the  point  at  which  Christ's  ethical  teaching  so 
inmieasurably  transcends  that  of  all  other  masters, 
and  specillcaily  the  'righteousness'  of  tlie  scribes 
and  Pliansrrs  „f  His  ,i;,v.      11. •  Ian-Ill  lliiU  -."mI- 


conduil  III 
is  by  thu 


from  -w  itldn  that  a  man  is  defiled  (Mt  15'»'-).  It  is 
this  .same  teaching  with  regard  to  iTn.evfi.la,  now 
used  definitely  in  the  sense  of  'lust'  or  sinful 
desire,  that  we  meet  again  in  characteristic  forms 
in  the  writings  of  St.  Paul  and  St.  James.  St. 
James  (!"'•)  in  his  powerful  figure  shows  how  a 
man,  seduced  by  his  own  iTri.9vfi.ia,  begets  the  sin 
which  issues  finally  in  death.  St.  Paul  (Ro  7''"-) 
tells  how  the  commandment  oyK  eniGYMHceic 
stii-red  up  in  his  heart  Trairav  iTnOv/xiav,  and  so  forced 
him  at  length  to  understand  tliat  nothing  but  the 
law  of  the  Spirit  of  life  could  set  him  free. 

LiTERATCRE.— Jloulton  .imI  Im  I    ,,  ( ;,, dunce  to  tkc  Grcck 

Testament,  and  the  Uxi- I  i,,,mt  and  Cremer, 

s.vo.  tT,lhu.,a,  itdlui^iu,  i>  .■  .'[  I.  .  ,  .  ;, ,  !,„,i  Doet.  of  Sin, 
i.  15711.;  Martc-nsL-n,  C7//<  i.  '-  ;,/,,,  .  ,,.  s,iY.;  Liddon,  Ele- 
ments of  Ueliiiion,  p.  14S11.,  inKi^,  Manijedto  of  the  Eimj 
p.  245 ft. ;  Expositor,  iv.  iv.  [istllj  iZ<S..;  Milton,  Paradise  Lost, 

"•68iff.  J.  c.  Lambert. 

DESOLATION.— The  history  of  Israel  had  given 
to  this  word  in  the  time  of  Christ  a  peculiar  and 
sinister  .significance.  To  nearly  all  the  prophets 
the  idea  of  a  wasted  and  deiiopulated  land,  such  as 
is  given  in  the  grapliic  description  of  Is  1'-',  is 
familiar.  When  Jeremiah  and  Ezekiel,  who  most 
frequently  use  the  words,  mention  n^-in  or  nsE>, 
they  always  h.ave  one  thing  in  their  inind— the 
vision  of  a  once  peaceful  and  flourishing  place 
which  by  fire  and  sword  has  been  laid  waste,  and 
is  left  uninhabited.  Few  countries  have  suffered 
so  much  as  Palestine  from  the  havoc  wrought  by 
civil  war  and  foreign  invasion.  To  understand  the 
full  force  of  the  term  '  desolation,'  we  have  to  add 
to  the  features  of  war,  as  known  to  us,  something 
which  was  then  the  frequent  accompaniment  of 
conquest — the  carrying  away  of  a  whole  population 
captive.  And  to  the  bitter  memory  of  bygone 
devastation  we  have  to  add  the  apprehension  of 
what  might  at  any  time  happen  if  the  country 
were  swept  by  the  Komans,  of  -whose  methods  their 
own  historian  wrote,  '  they  make  a  solitude  and 
call  it  peace '  (Tac.  Ar/ricold,  30).  The  word  ' deso- 
lation,' then,  understood  in  the  sense  in  which  it 
was  used  when  the  AV  was  iii,iili>  ('1  iliisulate— I 
makea  countrey  unhabyted,'  r,il-ui,i\  .•,  ah.  1,')30), 
gives  the  exact  sense  of  botli  Uh'  llclnrw  .ind  the 
Greek  (fpi},iiuo-is).  It  is  in  this  m  n-r  i  liat  llicword 
is  used  in  tin-  passage  wlinv  .Ir-n^  iimiMjunces 
doom  upon  .l.in-aliin  (Ml  -j:,  -,  l.k  I:;  i.  The 
words,  'Your  Imu^r  i>  Irii  imtu  ^.m  ilr-ulatc,' are 
a  remini.scence  of  Jcr  L.'2'  (l.XX  -lU  Cpinj-ujuu'  eVrai  6 
oiKos  oStos),  and  it  makes  little  dilierenee  whether 
IpTjfio!  stand  in  the  text  or  not ;  the  general  idea  is 
that  the  house  (i.r.  tlie  city,  not  the  temple)  is 
'abandoned.'  There  is  not  necessarily  in  this 
passage  any  prediction  nf  tlie  fall  of  Jerusalem, 
though  the  coiilcxt  may  seem  to  suggest  this. 
The  idea  is  rallicr  thai,  I  lie  glory  of  Jerusalem 
consisting  in  licr  lirin;;  the  city  of  tlie  great  King, 
she  lo.ses  all  wlien  He  abaiiddiis  licr.  If  slir  rejects 
Him,  and  Hedcjiarts,  slir  is  a,  f.lr^-ak(■n  city  (cf.  the 
liassage  in  Bunyan's  J/,,/,/  Il»r  where  Kmmanuel 
leaves  Mansoul ;  also  Jos.  11.  J.  VI.  v.  3).  Grimm- 
Thayer  interprets  '  desolate '  here  as  '  bereft  of 
Christ's  presence,  instruction,  and  aid.'  Contrast 
with  this  the  promise  to  the  disciples  in  Jn  W\ 
which  the  AV  renders,  'I  will  no 
desolate '  {6p<pavov!). 

In  another  passage  (Mt  12==,  Lk  11"),  'Every 
kingdom  divided  against  itself  is  brought  to 
desolation,'  Jesus  uses  as  a  forcible  illustration 
that  fatal  tendency  to  faction  and  internal  discord 
which  had  so  often  brought  His  countrymen  to 
ruin  (cf.  c.ij.  Jos.  Ant.  XIV.  iv.  2).     See  also  art. 

AnOMINATION  OF   DESOLATION. 

J.  KOSS  MUREAY. 
DESPISE.— 1.  de(Tav.—{l)  The  primary  signifi- 
cation of  the  word  is  to  render  or  consider  invalid 


not    leave  you 


454 


DESPISE 


DESPONDENCY 


{deeTov),  to  set  aside  somctkinr/  laid  down  (Oerdii  ti) 
to  bear  oneself  toward  a  thin;;  as  if  it  were  not  to 
iffnore :  Mk  V  6.6.  t.  ipTo\T)v  t.  ScoO  (AV  and  KV 
'  reject '),  to  set  aside  the  command  of  God,  reijlacuif, 
it  by  tradition,  and  thus  to  deprive  it  of  its  force 
iiy  teaching'  and  practice  (cf.  Is  241",  Jude  *) 
Hence  (2)  to  thwart  ihe_  efficacy  of  anything     LK 


PouXrjf 


(West. 

2.  t; 

lOdji, 

n/frrh, 

Thf  r 


0£oO  (AV  and  RV  'reject'),  to  set 
at  nouffht  as  superfluous  and  invalid  (cf.  Gal  2  ' 
3'^,  He  10^).  Hence  (3)  of  persons,  to  ignore,  beat 
oneself  towards  them  as  if  they  were  not.  or  as  if 
tlici/ need  not  be  regarded  or  honoured :  JlkG^'^a  tv^ 
(AV  and  KV  'reject'),  break  filth  villi.  :iii.l  tl 
disappoint  (¥ie\A,  Ot.  Norv.  in  Inr.-  if.  I's  llil 
Lk  10"  (KV  'reject'),  to  ignun  .  t..  ii;;,l  inll 
tempt  as  deserving  no  recogniliun  (cf.  1  Th  4  ) 
To  Ignore  the  messenger  is  to  ignore  tlie  Son  ^^  liu.^c 
message  he  bears,  and  this  is  to  ignore  tlie  Father 
who  has  sent  the  Son  (Jn  12^»,  AVand  RV  '  reject'). 
To  ignore  Christ  and  refuse  His  -word  is  not  to 
escape  responsibility,  or  to  disprove  His  claims. 
Denial  is  not  disproof.  '  The  word  cannot  be 
banished.  It  still  clings  to  the  hearer  as  liis  judge. 
Spiritual  judgment  is  a  consequence  involved  "in 
the  rejection  of  the  revelation :  it  is  .self-fulfdled : 
it  cannot  but  be  carried  out.'    Though  rejected 

word    of    Christ    must    justify  itself 

rf.  T.  ?,'A\ 

;.    I  .iMuj',   -Sej'oGi'    [see  AVH,  App.  p. 

hi  i'Y   treat  as  of  no  account,  despise 

■/  ,i,.u.,lit:  Lk  18'' (RV' set  at  nought'). 

■.-  ■  ini.Milc.l  the  most  liiL^h-llown  de- 
sign.Hti.iii-  h,i-,.;irli  ,,il„.r,  surh  ,is  ■■  l.i-lil  ,if  Kvael," 
"GlMiy  ,.l   \W   I..MV,-  etc.,  l.nl    iIh'v  .l.-rnl„..l  the 

for  not  knowing  the  Law  (Jn  7^")>  ^"'l  spoke  of 
them  as  empty  cisterns'  (Farrar,  in  loc,  cf.  Ro 
14^- '»,  1  Co  16",  Gal  4»  etc.,  Pr  1').  The  same  word 
tr.  by  both  AV  and  RV  '  set  at  noujjht,'  is  used  of 
the  contempt  and  mockery  with  which  Jesus  was 
treated  by  the  rulers  (Mk  9'-  iVo  i'iovhevt]6%  ;  Lk  23" 
it,o\iS.  aMsv  6'H/)((j57)s),  where  the  special  significance 
of  the  word  is  that  He  was  treated  not  even  as  a 
criminal,  deserving  e.\amination  of  his  case  and 
righteous  judgment,  but  as  a  mere  cypher,  to  be 
utterly  despised;  cf.  Ac  4",  Ps  21  (22)^  Is  53^ 
[Symm.],  Ezk  22'. 

3.  KaTa(j>poveiv,  to  look  down  upon  from  a  position 
of  superiority,  whether  assumed  or  real,  to  think 
lightly  of,  to  neglect,  to  disdain,  with  more  or  less 
actively  hostile  design  (cf.  Herod,  i.  5.  66,  viii.  10). 
Mt  6=^  II  Lk  16'= :  two  masters,  with  opposing  in- 
terests, cannot  be  served  by  the  same  person,  the 
esteem  in  which  tliey  are  held  will  vary  according  to 
the  reward  oftered ;  one  ^^■ill  be  actively  honoured 
and  diligently  served,  the  other  will  be  thought 
lightly  of  ani  his  interests  will  be  neglected.  Mt 
18'" :  luKpol  are  not  to  be  held  in  disdain.  (1)  They 
are  under  the  sjjecial  care  of  God.  Adopting  the 
current  Jewish  doctrine  of  angels  as  guardian 
spirits,  our  Lord  tells  His  hearers  that  children 
have  friends  in  the  court  of  heaven,  in  close  near- 
ness to  the  King  Himself,  whose  '  Face  '  they  always 
see ;  there  they  are  not  thought  lightly  of,  here 
they  must  not  lie  despised.  (2)  Accepting  the  order 
of  the  vprsps,  tlipve  is  a  close  connexion  between 
'  (lcs|.i~iiij  ■  .111.1  '  otl'ending.'  No  hostile  action 
must  111'  i:ik.ii  iM.\,irJs  them,  even  unconsciously, 
no  (Mill.  "Ill  ,i,  to  conduct  or  example  which 
might  hurl,  llinu  ;  •  liindr.inces'  to  the  life  of  J'oung 
disciples,  'di's|iiM,l  '  Ikimiisc  of  their  weakness,  are 
sins  against  His  Ium.  i..  ihrm.  (3)  If  the  connexion 
with  vv.'-*  is  oiivin.il.  til.,  young  ,ire  not  to  be 
'despised,' because  till'  .llill^il^<•  ili-|iosi(iiiii  i^  Un- 
true way  to  eternal  lit.';  ili-  liumility  wliidi  i- 
essential  for  enterinj^-  intu  ili.'  Kiirjiloni  of  Iii-.-im-h 
has  its  symbol  in  tlie  runs.  i.,iisiir,s  ,,f  vr.ikiie^s 
and  imperfection  that  Ijulongs  to  children,  wliu  are 


theitfoic  not  to  be    de  pised    but 
1  1  13      Gn  27'  ) 


ed    (cf 
i     1  the  word  is  seen  in  Bo  "* 


J  dfc 


(Westcott  11  loc) 

ccS  Ti  and  £*oi/^£  £  are  i  ot  ised  bj  class  cal  writers  ytciet 
fps  1    IS  m  constant  use  fro  n  Heiodotus  on    ards 

R    MVCPHERSON 

DESPONDENCY  —Despondency  hlls  so  fiequent 
I  [lice  in  human  life  that  ^^e  lould 

I  II  I  1  It  that  our  Loid -nas  tempted  in  all 
1  11  I  111  e  I  e  aie  (He  4'  )  if  He  had  not  e\ 
perienced  it.  But  the  pi  ofound  depression  in  the 
garden  of  Gethsemane,  even  if  it  were  alone,  and 
the  memorable  word,  'My  soul  is  exceeding  sorrow- 
ful, even  unto  death'  (Mt  26^^  y  ]vik  143«),  testify 
that  He  had  such  experience.  What  was  tlie  cause 
of  this  depression  in  Gethsemane  ?  Was  it  due  to 
bodily  exhaustion,  the  body  affecting  the  mind 
and  making  it  more  sensitive  to  sad  surround- 
ings? Was  it  due  to  the  mental  strain  of  pub- 
licity and  opposition,  or  to  loneliness  and  the  pain 
of  failure  ?  ( '  He  came  unto  his  own,  and  his  own 
received  him  not,'  Jn  1").  All  these  were  elements 
in  the  despondency  of  Elijah  when  he  sat  under  the 
juniper  tree,  and  requested  for  himself  that  he 
might  die  (1  K  19'').  And  we  may  not  say  tliat 
such  intlueiir.  -  Mere  wholly  without  effect  on  our 
Lord;  but  in  II  i^  i:i-i,  as  we  learn  from  His  own 
words,  the  LjiiMi  1,111-. ■  of  despondency  was  the 
pressure  on  His  sjiiril  of  what  He  saw  near  before 
Him,  His  cross— that  death  in  which  He  was  (in 
St.  Peter's  language)  to  bear  our  sins  in  His  own 
body  (1  P  2-^),  or  (in  St.  Paul's)  to  be  made  sin  for 
us  (2  Co  5='),  and  in  wliieh  He  was  to  endure  that 
sense  of  .scim ration  from  God  which  was  so  new  to 
the  experieiiie  of  the  well-beloved  Son.  But  why 
wasthedepressionsoureat  now  in  Gethsemane  when 
He  had  look. mI  forw.n.l  to  this  from  the  beginning 
of  His  ministry,  s.i\iim  in  an  early  .stage  of  it, 
'The  Son  of  man  must  be  lifted  up'  (Jn  3")? 
Part  of  the  answer  to  this  question  must  be  that 
our  Lord's  mind,  being  truly  human,  was  liable  to 
those  often  mysterious  alternations  of  feeling  which, 
in  common  men,  we  call  changes  of  mood.  As  He 
drew  nearer  the  accomplishment  of  the  great  work 
of  atonement,  we  find  Him  sometimes  hastening 
eagerly  towards  it,  full  of  great  purpose,  even  of 
joy,  and  at  other  times  foreseeing  the  darkness  of 
the  experience  and  shrinking  from  it.  At  one 
of  the  stages  of  His  approach  to  that  event,  and  of 
His  own  inward  acceptance  of  it,  namely  after  the 
dismissal  of  Judas,  this  joyful  anticipation  was 
expressed  by  Him  in  language  even  of  exultation 
— '  Now  is  the  Son  of  man  glorified,  and  God  is 
glorified  in  him '  (Jn  13^').  At  another  stage  He 
speaks  in  quite  a  different  manner,  '  Now  is  my 
soul  tronl.leil  ;  ,111.1  wli.'it  shall  I  say?    Father,  save 

III     -I        i'        .     II  :  1 1. itf.'d  this  alternation  of  feeliiiK. 

'I.i:,  ,   ::,i  ,,    ..iK.I    on  a  mountain,  when   the 

thiiiil'  I     I I-  nil  11.1    -I  ;  ,  II  stiLTids  out  jrim  and  dark;  and 

then,  in  a  moment,  the  strnn;^'  wind  sweeps  these  away,  and  the 
sunlight  smites  it,  and  it  shines  out  white  and  lustrous.  With 
such  swift  alternations  ...  to  Jesus  Christ  the  Cross  was  dark 
and  the  Cross  was  radiant '  (La^t  Stieavc^,  27). 

The  Gethsemane  expei  iiMi...  \\as  |,irlia|.s  that  in 
which  our  Lord  felt  inn  I  |n.i|i.iin-ll\  Mi. -.lark  and 
heavy  pressure  of  il..'  .-ini  1.  i|i:ii  inn  oi  the  Cro.ss. 
Howdarkandhcav  \  ili.i  v.:,  .i|i|h.,i  in  i  he  '  sweat 
as  it  wi-re  j,'reat  .lro|i  ni  iil.:.-:  i.lliii'  .lown  upon 
the  -rouTi.l-  (I.L   J-         ni    il  '  lull      -  lying  and 

oV  Hi.  ,. raver, '-.'i  "    '       '     '  "  '     '  '  '      " '"'     " 

possibility'of  the 


DESTRUCTION 


DEVOTION 


He  had  said  long  before,  '  The  Son  of  man  must  be 
lifted  up '  ( Jn  3"),  and  was  to  say  soon  after,  '  For 
this  cause  came  I  unto  this  hour'  (12'-").  See, 
further,  art.  Agony.  J.  Robertson. 

DESTRUCTION.-The  AV  and  RV  tr.  of  <i7r<i\«a 
in  Mt  7''.  In  Mt  26"*  and  in  the  parallel  passage 
in  Mk  14^  diruXcM  is  translated  'waste'  in  both 
Versions,  and  in  Jn  17'",  the  only  other  instance 
where  the  word  is  used  in  the  Gospels,  both  render 
it  'perdition.'  In  Mt  7"  our  Lord  speaks  of 
I  '  destruction  '  as  the  opposite  of  life  eternal.     In 

profane  authors  dTrtiXeia  invariably  mp.aris,  as  its 
derivation  from  aw6\\viJ.i  imjilips,  i-.iiiiirtimi,  mmi- 
hilation;  and  this  fact  has  boon  Imui'ly  ii.-od  by 
the  advocates  of  the  Conditioiial  lTiiiiicirt:ility 
theory  in  support  of  their  contention.  Still  the 
'  deslniction '  spoken  of  by  our  Lord  in  Mt  7''  has 
been  held  by  expositors  with  practical  unanimity 
from  the  first  to  mean  a  contmued  life,  whether 
endless  or  not,  of  misery  after  death.  All  the 
same,  it  has  been  admitted  generally,  e.ij.  by 
Cremer,  that  eternal  misery  as  a  meaning  of 
dTTciXeia  '  is  a  signification  peoiliar  to  the  NT,  and 
without  analogy  in  classical  Greek. '  There  appears, 
on  the  whole,  to  be  general  agreement  that  whether 
'  destruction  '  means  a  terminable  or  interminable 
life  of  misery  after  death,  it  does,  at  any  rate, 
mean  a  prolongation  of  existence :  it  is  exclusion 
from  salvation,  whether  final  or  not.  Whether  or 
not  there  is  a  term  to  the  duration  of  misery  here- 
after— presuming  that  there  is  a  continuance  of 
life  after  death  for  those  who  go  in  the  way  of 
destruction — does  not  enter  into  the  scope  of  this 
note  (see  Eternal  Punishment),  but  it  may  be 
remarked  as  significant  that  the  '  lost  sheep  are 
spoken  of  by  our  Lord  as  being  found  again,  and 
that  the  word  for  'lost'  is  the  participle  of  awSWvui. 
This  is  one  of  the  considerations  that  have  made 
many  feel  warranted  in  holdinj'  '  the  larger  hope ' 
even  for  those  who  go  meanwhile  in  '  the  way  that 
leadeth  to  destruction.' 

J.  Cromarty  Smith. 
DEVIL See  DEMON  and  SATAN. 

DEVOTION.— The  word  does  not  occur  in  the 
Gospels,  but  the  idea  is  present  everywhere,  as 
marking  the  attitude  of  the  man  Jesus  towards 
God,  and  thus  providing  a  standard  for  imitation 
by  every  other  man.  Intrinsically  the  word  denotes 
the  act  of  presenting  solemnly  some  gift  or  service 
to  a  deity,  or  to  any  one  invested  in  thought  for  a 
time  with  some  of  the  qualities  or  claims  of  a 
deity;  but  its  use  has  been  extended  to  cover  alike 
such  service  itself,  and  even  the  psychological  con- 
dition from  which  the  act  springs.  As  such,  a 
correct  analysis  must  find  blended  in  devotion 
each  of  the  three  elements — thought,  emotion,  and 
volition — which  are  the  mutually  dependent  frag- 
ments of  the  unit  of  personality,  expressing  itself 
as  a  whole  in  the  exercises  often  called  devotions. 
The  intellectual  element  is  a  recognition  of  the 
dignity  and  patient  grace  of  God,  the  sensitive  a 
feeling  of  gratitude  and  desire  to  please,  the  voli- 
tional a  strong  resolve  to  carry  out  that  desire  ; 
and  these  three  pass  together  quickly  into  appro- 
priate action,  the  whole  man  in  the  harmony  of  all 
his  powers  indicating  by  praise  or  service  the  depth 
of  his  loving  regard. 

In  some  definitions,  too  much  prominence  is  };i\eii  to  the  will. 
and  devotion  is  confused  with  rehgrion  generall\ ,  u-  m  V'l'iin  i  , 
Summa,  11.2  Ixxxii.  1 :  '  Devotio  nihil  aliud  e 


hip  (Atterbury,  Scnnons,  iv.  213) 
l>rincipal  constituents.    The  si  1 
of  the  will  tow ards  God  is  followed  I 
oul  to  God  and  its  suffusion  witli 


voluntas  quaedam  prompte  tradendi 
Dei  famulatum.'     In  certain  phrai 


:  ad( 


ynon>Tn  for  worship, 
devotion  to  the  Sacred  Heart  is  spoken  of ;  and  in"  others,  as 
'feasts  of  devotion,'  it  acquires  an  entirely  technical  sense, 
implying  the  absence  of  express  obligation,  w-ith  an  appeal  only 
to  the  discretion  and  good  feeling  of  the  worshipper.  But  in 
the  better  use  internal  devotion  is  contrasted  with  external 


effected  in  the  heart  under  the  influence  01  tiie  Woi.i  .^lMnl. 

1.  In  the  case  of  Christ  each  of  these  phases  of 
devotion  is  represented  in  the  Gospels.  («)  Though 
but  a  mere  lad.  He  indicates  already  a  habitual 
Godward  set  of  His  will  (Lk  2*",  He  10');  and 
afterwards  He  speaks  of  His  purpose,  sometimes 
with  quiet  assurance  (Jn  S^"  ff^  7'"),  sometimes 
with  a  certain  glow  of  satisfaction  (4*"  H*).  Hin- 
drances and  sore  temptations,  in  which  the  play  of 
a  natural  and  useful  instinct  may  be  traced,  did 
not  divert  Him  (Lk  9^'  2'2^-).  Glad,  complete  con- 
formity with  the  will  of  God,  such  as  is  an  inte- 
gi-ant  of  every  right  conception  of  heaven,  is  set 
forth  as  on  earth  the  aim  ot  every  disciple  (Mt  6"), 
reached  at  once  and  maintained  without  defect, 
though  not  without  ettbrt  (cf.  Harnack,  What  is 
Christianitij  ?^  129  f.),  by  Him  alone  who  could 
say,  '  I  and  the  Father  are  one '  (Jn  10*'). 

(h)  Instances  of  tlie  exaltation  of  His  soul  in  the 
calm  sense  of  security  because  of  the  accord  of  His 
will  with  that  of  the  Father,  occur  in  the  impres- 
sion His  fearlessness  made  at  the  cleansing  of  the 
Temple  (2'^'-) — in  His  endowment  with  'honour 
and  glory'  at  the  Transliiiiir.ilidii  (2  P  I")— in  the 
strengthening  iiiini>tr\  ..t  .uiLrl,  ;.rtor  the  Tempta- 
tion (Mt  4"),  and  tIio'.\,L;ui,y  I  Lk  -2"  RVm).  The 
joy  of  Mt  11--''  and  Lk  1U-'  is  aiiulher  instance,  as 
is  also  the  outburst  of  triumphant  relief  at  the 
retirement  of  Judas  (Jn  13"'-).  Nor  should  His 
perfect  repose  in  the  midst  of  peril  (Mk  4^'-),  and 
in  the  presence  of  angiy  or  eager  mobs  (Lk  4-'-"-, 
Jn  85»  I0»"-  6'=),  be  overlooked.  Partial  and  auxiliary 
explanations  may  be  found  in  the  exhaustion  of 
fatigue  or  the  mastery  of  His  nerves  ;  but  the  real 
cause  was  moral  and  not  physical,  and  should  be 
sought  in  the  self-consciousness  of  Jesus,  in  the 
stable  correlation  of  His  will  and  God's.  The  two 
streams  of  volition,  human  and  Divine,  met  and 
merged  in  Him  ;  and  thus  He  becomes  for  men  at 
once  an  example  of  perfect  devotion  and  a  pledge 
of  perfect  grace. 

((■)  The  exercises  appropriate  to  devotion,  which, 
however,  so  far  from  confining  itself  to  them,  en- 
riches the  entire  nature  and  attects  ovory  relation  of 
life,  are  praise  and  prayer  (see  sep.  artt. ),  with  the 
addition  of  meditation,  and  occasionally  of  fasting 
or  some  form  of  self-discipline.  The  prayer  and 
praise  are  not  exactly  such  as  accompany  public 
worship,  but  assume  rather  the  character  of  com- 
munion or  reverent  conversation,  the  element  of 
specific  supplication  being  of  ton,  not  always,  absent. 
In  the  case  of  Christ  the  praiso  i-  ilhwtiato.l  in  .such 
passages  as  Lk  10-"-,  the  iira(ti(o  ..f  mrditation 
and  prayer  in  the  lonely  ni-lif  \ 
desert  in  Mk  G^  Lk  5^\  whil>i 
becomes  more  specific  in  Lk  (>'  \  in  1  h  1  hscmane, 
and  perhaps  also  on  the  Mount  ni  Tiaii-liumation. 
Of  actual  fasting  by  Jesus  as  a  doliiiitf  process  of 
devotion,  there  is  no  certain  case  in  the  Gospels  ; 
but  there  is  no  reason  to  suppose  that  He  did  not 
follow  the  usage  of  His  country  on  the  Day  of 
Atonement.  Fasting,  too,  is  associated  with  the 
Temptation  (Mt  4"),  of  which  one  lesson  is  that  a 
pure  conscience  and  an  ideal  conformity  with  (iod 
can  be  attained  or  rotainod  only  by  self-discipline 
and  hard  steadfastno-  iiihl^  r  i.  -I  in-  And  even  in 
1 1 10  Sermon  on  the  M-   i  .  1  i,-e  is  guarded 

iinni  abuse,  and  iniplh  n  h   n^^   iJ-d  in  Mt  e'""' ; 

ami  the  supposition  i~  \,,,i  1,1  m  .1  Hut  our  Lord  was 
prepared  to  exemplify  in  His  own  iierson  what- 
ever He  recommended  to  His  disciples.  His  life, 
as  well  as  His  teaching,  .shows  tliat  fasting  in 
itself    has  no  devotional    or  any  other  religious 


.iiid  the 
|ilioation 


456 


DEVOTION 


DEVOTION 


value,  but  is  serviceable  only  when  and  in  so  far 
as  it  promotes  the  closeness  of  communion  with 
God.    See  Fasting. 

(f/)  The  plenai-y  presence  of  the  Holy  Spirit  >vith 
Christ  is  an  implication  of  the  NT,  which,  how- 
ever, is  comparatively  reticent  as  to  the  Spirit's 
influence  in  the  interval  from  the  Temptation  to 
the  eve  of  the  P;ission.  The  action  of  the  Spirit  at 
the  Temptation  is  referred  to  by  all  the  Synoptlsts 
(Mt  4\  Mk  1'^  Lk  4'),  and  Ills  aid  iim'st  be  re- 
garded as  part  of  the  explanation  .'t  ('liii~rs  sin- 
lessness  on  this  and  all  Kuli>u.[uint  nnasions. 
Not  only  were  His  miracles  wruuyht  in  tlic  power 
of  the  Spirit  (Mt  12^,  Lk  4"- '»),  but  His  oneness 
with  the  Spirit  made  His  life  uninteiTupted  devo- 
tion, and  '  through  the  eternal  Spirit '  He  '  ottered 
himself  without  blemish  unto  God'  (He  9").  The 
rapture  of  His  soul  is  attributed  to  the  influence 
of  the  Spirit  in  Lk  ICPi,  though  this  particular  is 
omitted  in  the  corresponding  narrative  of  Mt  11-^. 
And  the  devotion  of  niii>t  is  un  rxanij.le  f..r  man, 
not  only  becau~r  it  cxhiiiit-  liuinan  triiunitli  over 
temptation  ami  Iminau  tollowsliip  \\itU  (lod,  but 
also  because  ot  the  Munlarity  of  tin-  uuaus  and 
aids.  His  complete  unction  is  the  promise  and 
measme  of  the  anointing  available  to  every  one. 

2.  In  the  case  of  man,  devotion  appears  in  the 
Gospels  as  an  act  or  state  of  the  entire  personality, 
with  all  its  powers  haDjionionsly  and  intensely 
engaged.  Prominenc-  i-  -Im  n  to  tlie  same  ele- 
ments as  are  traceable  in  tho  .l.M.tion  of  Christ 
Himself,  wliilst  ample  saicgtiai.ls  against  error 
and  fanaticism  are  provided.  The  great  rule  of 
I)t  6*  is  adopted  by  Christ,  and  applied  in  each  of 
the  Sj-noptics  (Mt  aSS',  Mk  12^",  Lk  10-'')  with 
little  variations  of  phrase  that  add  to  the  uncom- 
promising vigour.  In  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount 
the  exclusiveness  of  devotion,  as  admitting  no 
rival  claim  and  absorbing  supreme  affection,  is 
recognized  in  Mt  6-''^;  so  in  another  connexion 
in  Lk  16".  And  in  the  clo.sing  discourses  Christ 
puts  Himself  forward  as  actually  and  solely  central 
to  the  life  of  His  disciples  (Jn  14^),  the  source  of 
all  their  strength,  the  rirfit  object  of  their  trust 
and  love  (IS"""  16~),  with  the  recurring  refrain, 
emphasized  by  its  modifications,  '  Abide  in  me ' 
( IS-*-  '^  et  al. ).  Fruitfulness  in  the  graces  of  personal 
character,  and  then  secondarily  in  obedience  and 
ser\'ice,  results  from  the  deliberate  regarding  of 
Christ  as  '  all  in  all,'  as  so  filling  up  the  sphere  of 
thought  and  desire  as  to  control  everj'tliing  else 
therein.  The  last  clause  in  Jn  15'  means  by  im- 
plication that  possibOities  to  the  disciple  are  pro- 
portionate to  the  closeness  of  his  devout  union 
with  his  Lord :  and  that  union  may,  and  should, 
reacli  a  >taji'  of  completeness,  in  wdiich  the  in- 
dwilliiii:  rliii-t  li.iomes  the  unquestioned  ruler  of 
all  «  iihin  tin-  luait,  and  the  whole  life  in  the  flesh 
is  li\  (jd  •  in  faitli,  the  faith  wliifh  is  in  the  Son  of 
God'  (Gal  2=").  It  is  tlu-  ciown  of  Cliristian  devo- 
tion, not  the  joint  somk  i-nty  of  Clirist  and  the 
ego,  but  the  loving  aii.l  lauei  n  tircinent  of  the 
ego  that  Christ  may  be  siib.stiluted,  appropriatitv^- 
its  functions  and  reigning  in  its  stead.  Thn- 
Christ  Himself  teaches  in  one  of  the  most  san.  1 

Earts  of  Scripture:  'I  in  them'  (Jn  \1'^-^)  is  the 
nal  and  fullest  blessing  and  privUege  conceival>le 
in  that  hour  of  vision  for  those  whom  He  loved  '  to 
the  uttermost'  (13'  RVni). 

(a)  Specifically,  as  might  be  expected  before 
Pentecost,  the  Gospels  give  more  prominence  to  the 
action  of  the  human  will  as  a  condition  of  disciple- 
ship  than  to  its  subsequent  concentration  as  the 
condition  of  progress  and  perfecting.  But  the 
example  of  Christ  Himself  is,  in  this  matter,  a 
sufficient  safeguard  and  sanction,  and  is  enforced 
by  teachin"  of  at  len-st  two  types.  '  If  any  man 
willeth  to  do  his  will '  (Jn  7"),  supplies  the  key  not 


only  to  the  knowledge  of  the  things  of  the  King- 
dom, but  also  to  the  fulfilment  in  personal  charac- 
ter of  God's  purpose  of  sanctification,  Bengel's 
suavis  harmonia  teing  both  a  cause  and  the  efi'ect 
of  insatiable  yearning.  Again,  glad  consent,  with 
persistency  of  will,  is  an  important  element  in  our 
Lord's  frequent  exhortations  to  His  disciples  to 
'abide'  in  Him  or  in  His  word  (Jn  15^  8^'  et  al.). 
One  of  the  characteristics  of  the  Johannine  setting 
of  the  Gospel,  as  of  the  prophecies  of  Jeremiah  in 
the  OT,  is  the  empha-sis  laid  on  the  sustained 
determination  of  the  will  towards  God. 

(h)  The  exaltation  of  spirit,  accompanying  and 
enriched  by  this  firmness  of  purpose,  receives  more 
adequate  expression  in  later  times,  but  is  far  from 
being  left  entirely  without  illustration.  Such 
passages  as  Jn  12"'  ''^  speak  of  a  magnetic  influence 
on  the  part  of  Christ,  to  which  the  response  was 
at  the  beginning  more  than  that  of  admiration, 
and  soon  deepened  into  supreme  and  rapturous 
attachment.  The  Mcynifaat  (Lk  l^-^')  and  the 
2^'iinc  Dimittis  (Lk  2="-^-)  anticipate  the  exultation 
of  men,  partly  at  the  accomplished  work  of  Clurist, 
partly  at  the  abundance  and  the  ett'ect  of  His 
grace  to  the  individual ;  and  the  self-forgetfulness 
of  grateful  and  passionate  devotion  is  illustrated 
in  Lk  7^'-^^  Mary's  'Kabboni'  (Jn  20'")  and 
Thomas'  '  My  Lord '  (Jn  20^)  express  absorbed 
attachment  as  well  as  conviction.  In  the  paruiiles 
the  joy  is  occasionally  festal  and  ueiieial,  bnt 
sometimes  becomes  that  of  personal  aii'l  as-nied 
possession  (Mt  13"-*^),  or  is  even  lifted  up  into 
likeness  to  the  Saviour's  own  joj',  incapable  of 
dimness  or  of  eclipse  (Jn  15",  Mt  25=').  The  dis- 
ciple in  his  Lord's  bosom  (Jn  13^-  ^)  is  a  type  and 
guarantee. 

(c)  The  loving  acts  and  exercises  in  which  the 
devout  spirit  beneficially  expresses  itself  are  of 
almost  infinite  variety  in  their  character,  and, 
though  their  most  ingenious  exhibition  is  met  with 
subsequently,  they  are  not  left  without  trace  or 
starting-point  in  the  Gospels.  Beyond  the  ex- 
ample of  the  Saviour,  an  encouragement  to  quiet 
meditation  may  be  found  in  Mk  6^',  a  commenda- 
tion of  private  prayer  in  Mt  6".  Self-discipline, 
as  removing  the  occasions  of  sin  and  as  aiding  the 
communion  of  the  human  spirit  with  God,  is  en- 
joined in  such  pas.sages  as  Mt  5^-  **,  though  in 
others  the  object  becomes  the  avoidance  of  conduct 
that  might  offend  or  imperil  the  souls  of  the  weak. 

Tlnf  c..)f-<ii=<-i^*iinp  i>  in  it-^flf  and  apart  from  its  motives 
m.  r  i>  ii"M^.  i~  II  i"  r  i  :ii_l,i  hv  Christ,  and  such  a  notion  is 
t|iii'  'II  _         -     I  (  hiistiaiiity.    Christ's  treatment 

(if   I  _   I  Mr  evidently  looked  forward  to 

it~|r,  i'l     ■-    1'-  :    I  'inlv  in  their  association  and  in 

tiiiK-  .  I  _   I    :    :      .;ui,;i..  .,i.,l  moiiming(Mt9'-i-16,  Mk  21»-20, 
'le  prompt" 
in  for  jiersonal  blessing. 

fir     11  I     i„'ht  thereby  l)e  secured  is  a  legritiniatc  in- 

ftrrr n    HI    ^i■      7-1  and  Mk  O"-^*,  though  textual  evidence  is 

at'.iiii3L   ai.>    -)  '  '  Ml'    I.  f'TPpre  tn  fasting  in   these  verses,  the 

tion  of  a  devd 
ciples  will  fa> 
purity  of  irit< 


•  to  till-  im-orpora- 

,  I  iMiil.w.l  in  the 

^:i:|.;i.itinjunc. 

(d)  Before  Pentecost  the  action  of  the  Holy 
Spirit  in  human  devotion  is,  for  the  most  part, 
anticipatory  and  a  matter  of  promise,  but  as  such 
is  none  the  less  important.  His  presence  is  that 
which  will  prevent  the  disciples  from  becoming 
'desolate'  and  without  resource  (Jn  14'*)  on  the 
departure  of  their  Master ;  and,  being  present,  He 


DIDEACHM 


DISCIPLE 


457 


will  act  in  tliein  as  tliu  Father's  I'arac-lete  (Jii  14" 
ct  al.),  advocating  the  cauM'  of  (iod  ami  jiniiiinlinL; 
all  Gochvard  impulse  ami  ■Ir-iir.  Siirriiir.illy.  Hi- 
will  guide 'into  all  tlir  liutli  (Jii  l(i''),  luiii-iii;; 
the  disciples  into  right  nl.itinn,  Ijoth  inlullcTtiial 
and  practical,  with  saving  truth,  and  maintaining 
within  them  a  condition  of  composure  and  serenity 
(Lk  1'*).  The  power  to  do  'greater  works'  is 
associated  with  the  return  of  Christ  to  His  Father 
(Jn  14'^),  and  therefore,  by  implication,  with  the 
mission  of  the  Spirit ;  and  if  the  complaint  is 
sometimes  just  that  those  greater  works  are  not 
being  done,  the  cause  is  to  be  found  not  in  the 
inadequacy  of  opportunity  or  resource,  but  in  the 
defectiveness  of  personal  devotion.  Its  degree  is 
commensurate  with  that  of  right  volition  on  the 
part  of  the  disoiple,  and  with  that  of  jiossessiou 
on  the  part  of  t  Ik-  Spirit ;  and  these  two,  again,  are 
mutually  dciirjiilint.  '  In  the  Spirit'  by  hxed  and 
abiding 'pur|i.jsi\  i>  the  law  on  tlie  one  side;  the 
Spirit  in  the  lUsuiple  is  the  correlated  privilege, 
with  the  absolute  harmony  between  Christ  and  the 
Spirit  as  the  only  limit  ot  possible  human  experi- 
ence, and  as  its  inspiration  and  pledge. 

LiTERATDRE.— Dykes,  Manifesto  of  the  Kiiig,  333-437  ;  Stalker, 
Iiruxiia  Christi,  ch.  vii.  K.  W.  Moss. 

DIDRACHM.-See  Money. 

DIDYMUS — The  alternative  name  of  the  Apostle 
Thomas,  given  in  three  passages  in  the  Fourth 
Gospel  (Jn  11^^  20-^  21-  Gw^as  6  Xeyd^evos  Aidvixos). 
The  adj.  SiSv/ioi  is  regular  Greek  from  Homer 
onwards,  with  the  meaning  '  twofold ' ;  hence  dldv- 
ynos  as  subs.  =  ' a  twin.'  Alov/xos  is  the  translation, 
a.s  ew/tas  is  the  transliteration,  of  NCNn  =  cxfi  'a 
twin.' 

"Why  St.  John  calls  special  attention  to  this 
name  is  not  clear.  Westcott  suggests  that  Thomas 
may  have  been  familiarly  known  in  Asia  Minor 
among  the  Gentile  Christians  as  Didijniiia.  Jn  4-' 
('Messiah  .  .  .  which  is  called  Christ')  shows  that 
Thomas  was  not  called  Didymus  as  an  additional 
name.     See  THOMA.S.  E.  H.  Titchmaush. 

DINNER  {&pi<xTOP,  MtS^i,  Lk  IP*  [KVm  'break- 
fast'] 14'-). — In  the  East  there  is  no  meal  properly 
corresponding  to  our  breakfast.  Even  the  guest 
is  allowed  to  depart  in  the  morning  without 
'bite  or  sup.'  Eating  and  drinking  early  in  the 
day  are  held  to  be  marks  of  effeminacy  and  self- 
inchilgeiice,  and  are  regarded  as  bad  for  the  system. 
Many,  csinTially  when  on  a  journey,  are  content 
with  OIK/  meal  in  the  twenty-four  hours,  taken 
.■iftrr  snnsi't.  In  general,  however,  a  light  meal  is 
eaten  about  the  middle  of  the  clay,  r<Misi^tiiiu  of 

bread,  olives,  fruit,  ^e6c«{sour  cunlrcl  id  ilk),  .  I <r, 

etc._;  but  the  principal  meal  is  in  tho  oiniinL:. 
Eating  at  other  times  is  quite  casual  ami  infoi  iii.al. 
It  is  probably  correct  to  say  that  in  NT  dptarov 
and  SeTirvov  correspond  respectively  to  our  luncheon 
and  dinner.     See,  further,  art.  Meals. 

W.  EwiNG. 

DISCIPLE 1.  In  the  NT  '  disciple  '  (sing,  and 

plur.)  occurs  very  frequently  in  the  Go.spels  and 
Acts,  but  not  elsewhere  in  NT.  In  every  case  it 
represents  the  Gr.  Mae??T7)s  =  (l)  '  learner,'  '  pupil,'  in 
contrast  to  'teacher,'  as  Mt  lO^^ ;  and  (2)  'ad- 
herent,'one  who  is  identified  with  a  certain  leader, 
or  school,  and  adopts  a  corresponding  line  of  con- 
duct, as  Mk  21S  '  Why  do  John's  disciples  and  the 
disciples  of  the  Pharisees  fast,  but  thy  disciples 
fast  not  ? '  cf.  Jn  9-*  '  Thou  art  his  disciple  ;  but 
we  are  disciples  of  Moses.'  Our  Lord  Himself 
points  to  and  discourages  a  loose  use  of  the  term 
'  disciple,'  according  to  which  it  meant  no  more 
than  '  hearer,'  when  He  says,  '  If  ye  abide  in  my 
word,  then  are  ye  truly  my  disciples '  (Jn  8^';  cf. 


His  statement  of  the  conditions  of  discipleship, 
Lk  14'-«-  ='•  »2  and  Jn  IS*).  As  used  by  the  Evau- 
uilists,  'disciples'  has  sometimes  a  broader  and 
sometimes  a  narrower  significance.  For  the  former, 
see  Lk  6'^- "  '  a  great  multitude  of  his  disciples,' 
Ac  6-  'And  the  twelve  called  the  multitude  of  the 
disciples  unto  them,'  cf.  4^-.  It  is  evident  that  to 
St.  Luke  Tuji'  TrLijTEV(j6.vTU3v  aud  Tuiv  iiaBrirCiv  Avere 
equivalent  expressions.  Hence,  when  we  read  in 
Ac  I'J"-  of  'certain  disriplcs,'  wli..  when  they 
'believed'  heard  nolliiiiu  of  llio  ijifi,  of  the  Holy 
Ghost  and  were  ba)iti/r,l  -into  .lohu's  l.,ipti.sm,' 
we  must  understami   iIi.hI.n    ('linsl'mu  ilisciples, 

though  ill  an  'immatm  ■     i  i knowledge'  (see 

Knuwling's  note  on  lli-   |  <  ,  /    //f),^'.  Gr.  Test.). 

For  'disciples'  in  tli.  i,,,i,,,,,  ,  ,ise  =  the  inner 
circle  of  the  foUowci,  ,r,  .1,  u  ,  i  In  ■  Twelve,' see 
Mt82»lli  1415  26"*,  an,l  iH.|a.'iii  ly.  Tkn.,  us  ap- 
plied to  the  followers  of  OUI  l.olil,  ■  (li-c  ij.lrs  '  is  a 
term  of  varying  conlrnl.  Ii  i,  of  inl.nsl  in  pass- 
ing to  note  the  v.arion-  .iiiiPilUitions  by  which  the 
disciples  addivs-;  tlio  S.umur,  expressing  divers 
aspects  of  tlir  ivk-uion  which  they  held  to  sub- 
sist between  tlninsrhi-  a)i(l  Him.  He  was  to 
them  (1)  Teacher  (oiod.rsaXus),  Mk  -l^,  Jn  IS'"-;  (2) 
Superintendent  (f7riffTdT7)i),  only  in  Lk.  :  r,''  S-"*  9^' 
9*  ;  (3)  Lord  {^vpios ;  from  \A.  (V''  we  should  gather 
that  this  was  the  desigmilioii  most  usually  adopted 
by  the  disciples) ;  (4)  My  Teacher  {paBSl),  Mt  26=*, 
Mk  9=,  Jn  4=»  118. 

2.  Restricting  ourselves  to  the  more  limited 
sense  in  which  '  disciples '  is  used  of  the  followers 
of  our  Lord,  we  may  note  the  composition  of  the 
Twelve.  The  Synoptics  and  Acts  provide  the  fol- 
lowing lists : — 

MtlO^ir-.  MkSicir..  Lk  Giw-.  Ac  IR 

Simon.  Simon.  Simon.  Peter. 

Andrew.  James.  Andrew.  Jolin. 

James.  John.  James.  James. 

John.  Andrew.  John.  Andrew 

PhiHp.  Phili]!.  Philip.  Pliilip. 

Bartholomew.     Bartliolomew.     Bartholomew.     Thomas. 
Thomas.  Matthew.  Matthew.  Hartholomew. 

Matthew.  Thomas.  Thomas.  Matthew. 

James  of  James  of  James  of  James  of 

Alphajus.  Alphteus.  Alphaeus.  Alphteus. 

ThaddiBus  Thaddams.  Simon  the  Simon  the 

(Lebbffius).  Zealot.  Zealot. 

Simon  the  Simon  the  Judas  of  James.  Judas  of  James. 

Canana;an.  Cananiean. 

Judas  Iscariot.  Judas  Iscariot.  Judas  Iscariot. 

Comparin"  these  lists,  it  is  apparent  that  common 
to  them  all  is  the  division  of  the  Twelve  into  groups 
of  four.  The  sequence  of  the  -roups  is  the  same 
in  each  list.  "Within  tlie  ;jiou|i-.  tlie  order  of  the 
names  varies,  .save  as  n  -ani-  i  lie  in  ,(  name  of  each 
of  tlie  three  gTOujis,  -ttliieli  in  all  the  lists  is  the 
same— the  first,  fifth,  and  nintli  places  being  occu- 
].ied  in  .ill  by  Simon  (Peter),  Philip,  and  James  of 
A  Iplia  us  respectively.  See,  further,  art.  Aro.STLES, 
p.  liKi'i.,  and  the  separate  articles  on  the  above 
names. 

3.  T/w  calling  of  the  Twelve. — If  this  phrase  be 
taken  quite  strictly,  there  is  no  difficulty  in  deter- 
mining when  and  under  what  circumstances  the 
call  to  which  it  refers  was  given.  The  Synoptic 
accounts  are  in  virtual  accord.  They  show  that  it 
was  not  at  the  outset  of  His  ministry  that  our 
Lord  incvpased  the  company  of  His  immediate 
followers  until  it  numbered  toefcc.  That  increase 
took  pl.iie  vli.n  the  fame  of  His  teaching  and 
words,  as  He  «int  through  the  towns  and  villages 
of  Galilee,  'preaching  tlii^  sospel  of  the  kingdom, 
healing  all  manner  of  .lisci-e  .■unl  .all  manner  of 
sickness  "(Mt  9'*),  botli  ,il  ir.i.  Id  to  llmi  the  atten- 
tion of  the  populace,  ami  so  excited  the  resentment 
of  the  scribes  and  Pharisees  that  they  began  to 
take  counsel  with  the  Herodians  '  how  they  might 
destroy  him '  (Mk  3").  The  need  for  more  labourers 
was  evident,  and  not  less  evident  to  Jesus  the 


DISCIPLE 


signs  that  the  time  for  traininjr  such  labourers 
might  be  short.  St.  i\Iatthe\s-  tells,  immediately 
before  he  records  the  calling  of  the  Twelve,  that 
when  Jesus  '  saw  the  multitudes  he  Avas  moved 
with  compas.sion  for  them,  because  they  were  dis- 
tressed and  scattered,  as  sheej)  not  having  a 
shepherd.  Then  saitli  he  unto  his  disciples.  The 
harvest  tnily  is  plenteous,  but  the  labourers  are 
few.  Pray  ye  therefore  the  Lord  of  the  harvest, 
that  he  send  forth  labourers  into  his  harvest'  (Mt 
gaeff.j  That  summons  to  prayer  becomes  more 
urgent  and  pressing  in  the  light  of  St.  Luke's 
record,  that  immediately  prior  to  His  choosing  the 
Apostles  our  Lord  '  went  out  into  the  mountain 
to  pray ;  and  he  continued  all  night  in  prayer  to 
God.  And  when  it  was  day,  he  called  his  discijples, 
and  he  chose  from  tlu-iii  "twelve'  (T.k  C,™'-\  TIi.' 
immediate  purpose  of  the  rail  i~  (•.\|ii.~-..i  ii\  >;. 
Mark  thus:  'And  he  .•ii.|...iiitea  twche  tli;-i  i  Ii-n 
might  be  with  him,  ami  that  lie  mi-ht  seihl  then] 
forth  to  preach,  and  to  liave  authority  to  east  out 
devils'  (Mk  3'^-).  On  the  question  whether  some 
of  the  'Twelve  had  not  received  a  jprevious  call,  or 
perhaps  more  than  one  previous  call,  to  be  followers 
of  Jesus,  and  if  so,  in  what  relation  these  earlier 
callings  stand  to  the  appointment  of  the  Twelve, 
see  art.  Apostles. 

i.  The  training  of  the  Twelve. — When  St.  Hark 
tells  us  (3")  that  Jesus  '  appointed  twelve  that  they 
might  be  with  him,  and  that  he  might  send  them 
forth  to  preach,'  he  discloses  the  characteristic  and 
the  all-important  feature  of  tlie  method  of  their 
training.  They  were  to  see  the  works  of  the 
Saviour  and  to  hear  His  words,  and  in  addition  to 
that  they  were  to  be  constantly  in  contact  with 
His  personality :  they  were  to  be  with  Him  (see 
above,  p.  107). 

That  'course  of  instruction,'  as  Keim  calls  it, 
which  contact  with  Jesus  secured  to  His  disciples, 
was  maintained  with  very  slight  interruption  from 
the  calling  of  the  Twelve  until  the  Betrayal.  The 
chief  intermission,  of  which  we  have  any  word,  of 
the  intercourse  of  Jesus  with  His  chosen  followers, 
was  occasioned  by  that  mission  on  which  the  Twelve 
were  sent  quite  soon  after  their  call  (Mt  10*).  The 
interval  occupied  by  the  mission  was  probably  not 
more  than  a  few  days—'  at  least  a  week '  (Latham, 
Pastor  Pastorum,  p.  301).  Tliat  mission  was  a 
testing  of  the  Apostles  themselves,  not  less  than 
an  act  of  service  to  those  to  whom  they  were  sent ; 
and  the  test  was  so  endured  that  it  needed  not  to 
be  repeated.  The  Twelve  went  forth  under  the 
conditions  which  Jesus  prescribed  :  they  delivered 
the  message  He  bade  them,  and  they  used  freely 
the  power  to  heal  mth  which  they  were  entrustecl. 
No  similar  service  .separated  them  again  from  their 
Master,— unless,  incleed,  they  had  part  in  that 
mission  of  the  Seventy  of  which  St.  Luke  tells 
(lO"'-)-  The  time  would  yet  come  for  them  to 
deliver  their  testimony  and  to  fulfil  their  ministry. 
Meanwliile  the  Saviour  jealously  guards  for  them 
the  precious  opportunities  which  remain  for  free 
intercourse  witli  Himself.  He  leads  them  away 
from  the  crowds,  taking  them  now  to  'a  de.sert 
place'  (Mk  6''),  and  again  to  the  remote  '])arts 
of  Ca?sarea  Philippi'  (Mt  16").  "We  gain  the 
impression  that  as  the  brief  spell  of  His  own 
earthly  ministry  neared  its  term,  our  Lord  con- 
centrated Himself  increasingly  upon  tlie  inner 
band  of  His  followers.  Ewald  is  true  to  the  in- 
dication of  the  Gospel  narratives  when  lie  says 
that  'the  community  of  His  friends'  was  to  our 
Lord  'during  the  last  year  and  a  half  the  main 
object  of  His  earthly  labours'  (i/^/,  vol.  vi.  417). 

Should  it  be  asked  more  particularly  what  was 
the  instruction  of  which  the  Twelve  were  the 
recipients,  a  full  answer  would  require  a  recapitu- 
lation of  all  the  teaching  of  Jesus.     This  much 


may  be  said  here,  that  the  Twehu  shared  the 
instruction  given  to  'the  niultituile.'  with  the 
added  advantage  of  the  e\]'hni;ai'iii~  whieh  they 
sought,  and  which  our  Lonl  iirely  mk  urded  them, 
'when  he  was  alone,'  'privately.  .See  Mk  4",  on 
which  Swete  (Gospel  according  to  St.  Mark,  p.  84) 
comments  :  '  Exposition  now  regularly  followed 
(iirfKvev  TravTo.)  the  public  teaching.'  Furthermore, 
the  Gospels  contain  records  of  discourses  addre-ssed 
only  to  the  inner  circle  of  the  disciples.  Among 
such  discourses  should  be  reckoned  in  all  proba- 
bility part  at  least  of  the  group  of  addresses  known 
as  the  '  Sermon  on  the  Mount ' — notably  the  part 
contained  in  Mt  5,  which  bears  all  the  marks  of  a 
discour.se  to  more  immediate  followers.  Not,  how- 
ever, tliat  the  more  immediate  followers  are  in  this 
I  i.ii  th  iilar  connexion  to  be  restricted  to  the  Twelve, 
in  e  ihe  discourse  in  Mt  5  must — in  spite  of  tlie 
]  I'-itiMii  St.  Luke  gives  to  his  version  of  it  (G'-"^) — 
lie  ihired  earlier  than  the  calling  of  the  Twelve; 
it  '  lias  tliroughout  the  character  of  an  early  and 
opening  discourse.'  None  the  less  it  is  to  be 
accounted  among  our  Lord's  less  public  utterances : 
it  is  'Jesus'  address  of  welcome  to  His  band  of 
disciples'  (Keim,  op.  cit.  286-290).  Again,  in  Mt 
10*"''^  we  have  what  appears  at  first  sight  to  be  a 
sustained  address  to  the  Twelve  in  reference  to 
their  mission.  But  on  a  comparison  with  Mk  6*"" 
and  Lk  9-"°  it  seems  likely  that  only  vv."""  were 
spoken  with  direct  reference  to  the  mission,  and 
that  w.'*-*^  are  grouped  with  them,  though  coming 
from  a  later  time,  because  they  contained  sayings 
of  Jesus  in  reference  to  a  kindred  topic  —  the 
future  missionary  labours  of  the  Apostles.  Yet 
further  must  be  added  to  the  discourses  delivered 
to  the  Twelve  alone,  the  apocalyptic  discour^ 
Mt  24  (cf.  Mk  13  and  Lk  21),  with  its  parabolic 
sequel  in  cli.  25 ;  and  the  discourse  in  the  upper 
room  on  the  night  of  the  Betrayal  (Jn  14-16). 
And  when  we  endeavour  to  tabulate  the  instruc- 
tion imparted  more  privately  to  the  Twelve,  we 
may  not  omit  the  signs,  each  so  full  of  teaching  for 
them,  of  which  they  alone — and  in  one  case  but 
three  of  their  number — were  the  spectators.  The 
Walking  on  the  Sea,  the  Transfiguration,  the 
Cursing  of  the  Barren  Fig-tree,  the  Feet-washing 
in  the  Upper  Room,  the  Miraculous  Draught  of 
Fishes  (Jn  21'"f-), — these  all  surely  formed  part 
of  the  lessons  most  indelibly  impres.sed  on  the 
Twelve. 

Our  Lord  Himself  has  characterized  for  us  the 
purpose  and  the  content  of  the  teaching  He  im- 
parted to  His  followers.  It  was  that  to  them 
might  be  given  'the  mystery  of  the  kingdom  of 
God '  (Mk  4").  '  As  given  to  the  Apostles  it  was 
still  a  secret,  not  yet  to  be  di\'ulged,  nor  even 
except  in  a  small  degree  intellin;ible  to  themselves ' 
(Swete,  op.  cit.  p.  72).  The  Kingdom,  the  charac- 
teristics of  its  subjects,  its  Inw^.  it-  service,  and, 
finally,  its  Lord  reigning  tlimiuh  -ulieiing — such 
in  brojid  outline  was  the  cmn 
imparted  by  Jesus  to  the  'I't 


le  instruction 
It  moved  on- 
otound.  '  At 
ber ;  latterly, 
neditate.  In 
tiild  plainly 
:  .Hlterwards, 
e,  ,uh1  hard 
I  liV  the  La.st 


what  it  is  desirable  fortlieiii  i^  Ki 
the  teaching  passes  thnm-h  |  :i 
sayings  up  to  the  mysterie-  .ii\ 
Supper'  (Latham,  op.  cit.  IJiii.  ijut  no  teacning, 
not  even  the  teaehiiii:  of  .le^-us  Himself,  could  over- 
come the  reliic  i.iii.  (•  to  helieve  that  it  behoved  that 
the  Christ  -houhl  >iilh  i,  or  arouse  anticipations  of 
the  glories  that  should  follow.  The  crucifixion 
and  death  of  our  Lord  found  the  Eleven  un- 
prepared, and  ready  to  despair,  though  they  still 
held  together  in  tlie  bonds  of  a  love  they  had 
acquired  in  the  school  of  Jesus.     It  needed   the 


DISCIPLESHIP 


DISCIPLESHIP 


459 


actual  fact  of  the  Resurrection,  and  converse  with 
the  risen  Saviour,  and  the  illunuiiation  of  tlie 
.S]iirit,  to  brin^  them  to  a  true  ninlerstaTidinn'  of 
all  that  reiterated  teaching  conccniiiii;-  His  dcatli 
and  His  rising'  from  the  dead  \\hi<  h  .Icmis  IkhI 
given  'while  He  was  yet  with  them.'  I'.ut  mirr 
that  understanding  was  attained  l'\  ll"'  di-' ipN'^, 
the  truth  against  which  their  iinmU  h.ul  In ni 
stubbornly  closed  l>eeame  centr;il  in  their  juo- 
clamation.  There  is  abundant  evidence  that  the 
Apostles  were  slow  learners — men  with  no  special 
quickness  of  insight,  and  with  the  hindrance  of 
strongly  developed  prejudice.  It  is  also  evident 
that  their  slowness  and  prejudice  ha^e  for  us  an 
apologetic  value  (see  esp.  Bruce,  'Tminivg  of  the 
Twelve,  p.  482:  'They  were  stujiiil,  slow-minded 
persons;  very  honest,' bii(  vrry  uiinjit  to  t:ikij  in 
new  ideas.  .  .  .  Let  us  lir  (ll;il)l^ful  ior  Ihi-  lioiicst 
stupidity  of  these  men,  il  L:i\i',-.  urrat  \-.-ilnc  to 
their  testimony.  We  kimw  that  iinlliiiiL;'  but  facts 
could  make  .such  men  liclieve  that  wiiicli  nowa- 
days they  get  credit  for  inventing').  It  concerns 
us  yet  more  to  recall  the  evidence  ^^■llich  their 
training  aflbrds  of  the  i)atience  and  transforming 
power  of  Him  whi>  now,  imt.  li'.-,s  truly  th.an  in  the 
days  of  His  ilesl,.  .■,,lls  ^^,.;,k  i,,.m  (..  Himself  that 
they  may  be  villi  llim,  .unl  ili:i(  II  may  send 
them  forth  to  Ijcar  witness  on  His  behalf,  enduing 
them  with  His  Spirit,  that  tlieir  testimony,  like 
tliat  of  the  Apostles,  may  not  be  in  vain.  See  also 
art.  Apostles. 

LlTERATi'Ll.      r.ni.'.-,    77,'    7' ,'.     '   M/    ;;.,     7'..W,,   ;     I„illi;nH, 

Pastor  J'<:  '..■,■.       i  :    /  '  ■      ■    r     :!,,■;■•,;:  -.c 

vol.  iii. ;  w  ■      ,  .       ,'  .  '  '        /   ,, 

of  Christ  \::ri.  •.[.■^'■-.  I   l.ri^r  in  ll,.-':n,.'  /•/;!;    i:-l.  ,-1, -■!:,,,  77<.' 

Life  and  Tim 
of  Our  Lord. 

DISCIPLESHIP.-In  the  Gospels  no  word  ex- 
pressive of  '(Iisci]ilcsli!|.'  i.rrms,  allliimeh  they  .-ire 
full  of  tl,eli,in:^  ,v,,liiv  ^^l■i,■l,  ,1  e ■, , ,i  r-M.s.  •'rins 
is  not  snr|ii-i~iii^,  l^r  ii  i  ,  u.\  ei  ^  e^.U  >Aa  v  I"  li'.'ich 
abstract  tnifli,  l.ut  tnilli  e,iil„„lie<|  ,i,  artual  life. 
From  the  concrete  and  the  livini;  i.n  i,  ii  i^  li-li,  to 
us,  by  the  exercise  of  our  natnial  fa' uliio,  !■> 
abstract  the  generalization  or  iiphaliDU  which 
presents  the  idea  in  its  purity.  Cliiisl  .ilways 
followed  the  Divine  method;  .ami,  aeroidinely, 
while  He  made  ilisriple-.  .and  I  rained  lliem  m 
discipleship,  He  hanllv  iii.ale  .my  .'ii  teinjil  lo  deliue 

or  describe  what  this   iiuohe-.;   did    He  give 

much  instruction  whiih  lejue-rided  with  any 
directness  the  ideal  thai  He  had  in  \  icw.  From 
these  negative  facts  thenisehe-  tin'  ]irim.ary  truth 
on  this  subject  maybe  learnt :  Disripleship,  in  the 
Christian  sense,  is  essentially  a  matter  for  living 
realization  rather  than  for  psychological  analysis 
or  formal  compliance. 

If  for  His  followers  later  the  making  of  disciples 
began  with  ijreaching  the  gospel,  for  the  Lord 
Himself  it  commonly  began  %\-ith  tlie  authoritative 
appeal,  '  Follow  me.'  There  were,  of  course,  times 
when  this  summons  called  a  man  literally  to  arise 
and  go  widi  .Tesus  (o  some  new  place  and  ibit  v  :  as 
when  till'  llist  .inioiiu  (he  Twelve  '  left  tlic  net's  :ui<l 
followed  him'  (Mlc  !'"•-").  But  the  same  summons 
was  still  employed  by  the  Lord  after  His  resurrec- 
tion, when  it  cduld  have  no  such  literal  signihcation 
(Jn  21").  And  there  is  a  gi'oup  of  instances  (Mt 
1038  l6-\  ,Tn  12-'«)  in  AN-hieh  'Iiearing  the  cross'  and 

'disownin-onesi-lfaie  eoiijoi 1  with   (he  e.ill  to 

follow  llim,  wh.Te  it  IS  eleai-  (liai  ■Inllowinu-  has 
wholly  a  spirit ii.al  .sen.se.  The  tan  ll,al  He  ..peak 
of  'foHowing  an  exanij.le'  loo  ol|e„  le.id-  lo  the 
misinterpretation  of  ihi^  pivjiemi  e.ill  lo  .Ijx-iiile- 
ship  which  was  so  eli.DiMiei  la  le  oi  ihe  l.oid  .ie^us. 
It  IS  no  injunction  to  r,,|,\    II  mm.  I  ImhmjIm  of  eourse, 


the  imitation  of  L'hi 


every  diseiiile.  That,  however,  belong.s  to  a  rather 
later  sLa-e  ..f  diseipleship,  while  the  summons  to 
'follow'  I,-,  iis  iniii.itioiL       Tlie  choice  of  this  word 

rests  n|.on  ih..  aiiri(ml  taiihorof  a 'way  of  life' 

whii  11  Clirisi  .elopie.l  for  1 1  imself  when  He  affirmed 
•I  am  Ihe  \\a\,  and  wliieli  underl.ay  and  coloured 
noi  a  hlile  Ml  Hi.  I.nmn.aje.  So  iIm-  call,  'Follow 
ine,'  i,  an  .ippe.il  lo  tni-l  III-  ^uida  nee,  and  venture 
oneself  .ilon-  Ihe  Iraek  llial  He  explores  into  the 
unknown  le-ion-  ni  life,  \\itli  the  need  of  'bear- 
ing the  cio~-  ;iihl  loMMu  lif<'  to  find  it.'  'Come 
on!  I'e.n  noi  lo  j,.  ilM,.n'_;h  the  valley  of  the 
shadow  of  de.iil,    wMl,    me    in    the   rpiest   of   life. 

"He  that  i-  near  i,  near  the  tile:   lielh.it  is  far 

from  me  is  f;ir  from  Ihe  kiimdoiii.'"  Thus  at  the 
thrcsh.ild  of  diseijilesliip  lies  the  riaiuirement  which 
lie  alwaj-s  made  of  those  to  whom  He  rendered 
service, — the  requirement  of  courageous  trust  or 
'f.iith.'  And  for  such  as  are  ready  to  obey  this 
first  appeal  to  '  follow '  He  opens  '  a  new  and  living 
way  through  the  veil'  which  hides  so  nnich  of  the 
realms  of  life  from  our  eyes.  And  this  way  is 
'  human  to  the  red-ripe  of  the  heart,'  and  fit  for 
human  feet  to  travel,  for  the  way  is  'His  flesh,' 
His  mortal  life.  His  human  nature— what  for  us 
men  and  for  our  salvation  He  came  down  to  make 
His  own. 

There  are  some  few  sayings  in  which  the  Lord 
delineates  the  features  of  diseiph'-hip  under  one  or 
another  of  its  aspects.  K.if.  '  .\  cii-eiide  is  not 
above  his  master  ...  it  is  cnouuli  for  liie  ilisciple 


lat  he  be  as  ] 
i.Miiaslerof  ■ 


eonnexion  wil  li 
'Whosoever  li.' 
that  he  hath.  In 
Elsewhere  He  e 
the  inner  char 
unto  me  all  ye  that  lal 


.  If  they  have  called 
■liub,  how  much  more 
lO-^'-)-  And  in  close 
e  reiterated  teaching, 
.at  reiiounceth  not  all 

Ihe  Mill  »,nd'l.,t,  but 
pleship:     (.,/.    'Come 
my  yoke 


you,  arid  learn  of  me ;  for  I  am  gentle  and 
<K]y  in  heart :  and  ye  shall  iind  rest  unto  your 


(Mt  ] 
vliieh 


•).      Till 


iiess  and  lowli- 


are  ;|eain  t,aui;lii  .1- 1  h. >•;  discipleship  in 

the  .aeiion  of  wa-hiML'  1  I  '  .  ■  ,  ,,:  i.^ef,  on  the  last 
eNening,  when,  IliaIml:  -a  i  do\\  )i  a-.ain.  He  said, 
'Perceive  ye  what  I  h.ave  done  to  you?  Ye  call 
me  Teacher  and  Lord  :  and  ye  say  well ;  for  so  I 
am.  If  I  then,  the  Lord  and  the  Teacher,  washed 
your  feet,  ye  also  ought  to  wash  one  another's  feet. 
For  I  gave  you  an  example  that  ye  also  sliould  do 
as  I  have  done  to  you'  (Jn  IS'-"-,  cf.  also  Lk  22-*-'^, 
Mk  9=3-",  JMt  23"-i'--).  What  the  disciple  must  learn 
is  not  mainly 'teachini;':  he  must 'learn  Christ.' 
'Truth  is  in  '.lesus,'-' Ihe  Truth    and    the    Life,'— 

and  tlM.ilis.aple  muM  mow  Mn  the   I «ledu..  and 

love  of  Cod  ;iiid  of  Hi-.  Son  .le-u>  < 'hiist  <.ur  Lord.' 
So  love  is  what  iiin.st  lie  learnt  above  all  el.sc,  and 
affords  the  test  of  true  discipleship.  '  By_  this  shall 
all  men  know  that  ye  are  my  disciples,  if  ye  have 
love  one  to  another  '(Jn  IS^'*).'  And  the  Lord  traces 
discipleship  down  to  its  roots  when  He  declares, 
'  No  man  can  come  to  me  except  the  Father  which 
sent  me  draw  him.  ...  It  is  written  .  .  .  They 
shall  all  be  taught  of  God.  Every  one  that  hatn 
lieard  from  the  Father,  and  hath  learned,  cometh 
unto  me'  (Jn  G-""-)- 

A  large  proportion  of  the  Lord's  teaching  bears, 
of  course,  upon  the  nature  of  iliseipleship  and  the 


>rof  (1 


.saltof  the  earth 
'a  little  flock'  I 
(Jn  15=),  'e\er; 
hath  not  plante 


it  is  not  cast 
.•(■tly.  E.ff.the 
e  aspect,  all  so 
phors  like  'the 
orld'(Mt5"-»), 
hes  of  the  vine' 
e.avenly  Father 
uiy  another,  in- 


460 


DISCIPLINE 


DISCIPLINE 


cluilin<'  those  developed  into  parables,— all  sketch 
some  features  of  discipleship,  as  do  such  sayiufp 
as  that  one  must  be  reborn,  and  much  of  the  teach- 
ing concerning  the  Kingdom. 

The  final  charge  -which  the  Lord  laid  ui)on  the 
disciples  whom  He  had  trained  and  tested  Himself 
was,  •  Going  forth,  make'  ye  disciples  of  all  the 
nations'  {fiaBip-eviTaTe  ■wavra.  rd  Idvq,  Mt  28'"). 
Discipleship  for  all  is  thus  set  forth  as  His  own 
ultimate  aim.  In  reading  the  words  one  must 
carefully  guard  against  the  lamentable  imperfec- 
tion of  rendering  in  the  AV,  and  borrowed  tlience 
in  some  of  the  language  of  the  Book  of  Common 
I'niyer  ;  :ilso  against  the  faulty  punctuation  of  the 
sL'ntemx'  «  hioh  is  found  alike  in  the  AV  and  the 
11 V.  '  Toatliiiig '  is  no  translation  of  /taflijrf [Vare, 
wliich  means  far  more ;  while  a  colon  ought  to  re- 
l)lace  the  comma  after  '  nations,'  and  only  commas, 
or  at  the  most  semicolons,  should  separate  the  suc- 
ceeding clauses.  Without  attention  to  this,  the 
<;reat  importance  of  thLs  passage  must  be  missed. 
Rightly  read,  it  gives  the  Lord's  own  interpretation 
of  how  discipleship  is  constituted.  The  whole 
commission  is,  'Make  disciples -of  all';  and  three 
steps  are  then  indicated  in  so  doiuR,  which  answer 
to  tliree  essential  factors  in  discipleship— (1)  Bap- 
tizing into  the  Name ;  (2)  teaching  to  observe  all 
commands;  (3)  the  constant  spiritual  presence  of 
Christ.  There  is  no  complete  discipleship  without 
these  three  elements.  The  first  is  the  portal  of 
discipleship,  the  admission  to  a  new  destiny ;  at 
once  the  begetting  of  a  new  life  on  the  part  of  God, 
and  the  profession  of  a  new  hope  and  purpose  on 
the  part  of  those  whom  He  claims  as  His  children. 
The  second  is  the  training  needed  to  make  the 
promise  good ;  for  only  in  the  course  of  life's  dis- 
cipline can  character  be  formed  or  resolutions 
realized, — it  is  '  in  our  endurance  that  we  must  win 
our  souls.'  The  third  is  the  pledge  that  none  shall 
ever  be  left  to  face  the  stress  of  life's  probation 
alone,  but  that  for  every  disciple  union  with  Christ 
is  a  support  which  may  be  securely  trusted,  the 
Divine  Incarnation  working  itsplf  out  for  ever  till 
the  goal  shall  be  reached,  wliin  ■  ( ;.i>l  -li.il!  lie  all, 
in  air  (1  Co  15=«).  The  first  Ji-  iii!-  in-l.Tstood 
the  charge  which  had  been  uii  :i  ih m,  md  acted 
on  the  lines  laid  down  from  ili  .  nli.  i  .lay  on 
which  they  began  to  'makr  <li-ri],l.-'  i,,r  iliiir 
Lord.  So  when,  on  the  day  cif  I'l  mI'.u-i.  ilm-i' 
who  had  been  touched  by  I'lt.i  >  |.i.,u  liin-  [hU 
the  inquiry,  'Brethren,  what  shall  we  dui'  tlie 
answer  of  the  Apostle  was  explicit :  '  Kepent  ye 
...  be  bai)tized  ...  ye  shall  receive  tlie  gift  of 
the  Holy  Spirit'  (Ac  2*'- ss).  Here  are  the  same 
tliree  elements  of  discipleship;  for  'repentance' 
(ytierdi'oio)  is  the  form  which  'observing  all  things 
commanded'  necessarily  takes  to  start  with  in 
those  who  are  pa-ssing  from  walking  in  their  own 
ways  to  following  the  way  of  Christ ;  while  the  Holy 
Spirit  is,  of  course,  the  Spirit  of  Christ  present 
permanently  with  those  whom  He  unites  to  Him- 
self.    See  also  preceding  article. 

LrrERATURE. — Seeley,  Ecce  Homo^  ch.  vii. :  Latham,  Pastor 
Pastonim;  £xiKsitor,l\:iv.,llS0U286a. 

E.  P.  Boys-Smith. 

DISCIPLINE.  —  The  Gospels  reveal  a  twofold 
discipline— that  which  Christ  Himself  experienced, 
and  that  to  which  He  subjects  His  servants.  It 
will  be  convenient  to  treat  these  separately. 

1.  The  discipline  to  v:hich  Christ  submitted. — 
The  NT  teaches  clearly  that  even  our  Lord  required 
to  lie  'perfected'  (rfXeioiS^yai)  in  order  to  ensure 
the  consummation  of  the  work  for  which  He  hail 
become  incarnate.  Such  a  rfXe/oKru  consisted  in 
His  being  brought  '  to  the  full  moral  perfection  of 
HLs  humanity,  which  carries  witli  it  the  complete- 
ness of  power  and  dignity'  (Westcott) ;  and  its 
necessity  is  recognized,  not  by  the  writer  of  the 


Epistle  to  the  Hebrews  alone  (He  2"*  7^  etc.),  but 
also  by  Christ  Himself  (Lk  13'=). 

It  is  taught  with  equal  clearness  that  our  Lord 
attained  His  'perfection'  through  the  discipline 
which  He  voluntarily  endured.  This  included 
several  elements.  (1)  Among  the  must  important 
was  the  discijdine  of  tcmptatio7i  (Mk  1'--'^  11  He 
2") ;  and  in  this  connexion  it  is  important  to 
remember  that  His  testing  was  not  only  search- 
in"  in  its  strength,  but  repeated  in  its  assaults 
(note  plur.  Lk  22=»,  and  cf.  INIk  U^-"-  II,  He  4'5). 
(2)  A  second  element  in  His  discipline  was  that 
of  delay.  The  incarnate  Son,  with  His  love 
eager  for  the  completion  of  His  saving  work,  must 
have  exercised  no  ordinary  self-restraint,  as,  amid 
the  opposition  of  foes  and  the  misconception  of 
friends,  the  stages  of  its  i  progress  passed  slowly 
by  (Lk  12''" ;  cf.  the  probable  force  of  the  tenijita- 
tion  in  Mt  4«- "  and  of  eve^piiiriaaTO  t<J  -KiieviMTi  in 
Jn  U*";  cf.  also  2  Th  3').  (3)  The  discipline  of 
sorrow  was  also  included  in  this  'perfecting'  of 
Christ.  His  experience  of  sorrow  was  limited  to 
no  single  kind.  He  felt  the  force  of  all  the  ills 
that  vex  our  human  life.  In  a  mo<it  sncgpstive 
citation  one  sacred  writer  shows  in  Imw  umI  and 
literal  a  sense  He  took  our  human  sirkm— .-  npuu 
Him  (:\It  S'"-  ",  cf.  Mk  5=«).  He  knew  i...  U-.--  the 
pang  of  regret  with  which  a  pure  man  views 
opportunities  wasted  by  those  for  whom  he  has 
cherished  high  ideals  (Lk  19^i-"— note  InSavaev). 
His,  too,  were  the  tears  shed  over  a  family  bereaved 
and  a  '  loved  one  lost '  (Jn  1 1^).  (4)  The  last  aspect 
of  Christ's  discipline  of  which  mention  must  be 
made  was  that  of  pain  and  suffering.  Of  this 
there  is  no  occasion  for  offering  detailed  illustra- 
tion. The  story  of  His  sufferings  is  the  story  of 
His  life  (for  a  few  examples  see  Mk  8=»  II  14^-  || 
15"'-=«  II,  He  58 ;  note  the  use  of  xaiSeiiw  in  Lk  23"^  -). 
The  experience  of  this  discipline,  revealing  itself 
under  different  aspects  and  affecting  His  human 
nature  at  different  points,  was  necessary  to  the 
fulfilment  of  our  Lord's  mission.  It  was  in  virtue 
of  His  'perfection'  through  suffering  that  Ho 
reached  His  absolute  sympathy  with  humanity, 
and  in  consequence  His  complete  qualification  to 
be  its  Saviour  (He  -I^'  4>=-  '<>  5=).     See  PERFECTION. 

2.  The  disriplme  which  Christ  imposes  upon  His 
/',//, -r,v._r)iscipline  is  an  essential  part  of  the 
■(  hii-t  iaii  life-,  and  the  NT  points  out  several  forms 
rnilir  w  liicli  it  is  to  be  experienced.  In  some  of 
these  it  is  restricted  to  a  certain  number  of  those 
who  call  themselves  by  the  name  of  Christ. 
(1)  There  is,  for  example,  a  discipline  to  which 
Christians  are  rendered  liable  hy  falling  into  error 
(1  Co  Ipsf-,  esp.  note  vaLScvbiuda  in  v.^- ;  see  also 
vaiSevoi  in  Rev  3'").  (2)  The  discipline  of  persecu- 
tion also  does  not  of  necessity  come  to  all  Chris- 
tians. At  the  same  time,  as  both  record  and 
exhortation  prove,  it  is  no  uncommon  experience. 
It  certainly  befell  our  Lord's  early  followers  (Mk 
13^  Mt  102=- =",  Jn  15--'  16**;  cf.  the  Epp.  passim, 
and  see  esp.  He  12^",  where  ?roi5e(a  is  cited  in  this 
reference),  and  He  Himself  attributed  a  special 
blessedness  to  those  who  found  a  place  in  its 
honoured  succession  (Mt  5'"-'=).  (3)  In  a  third 
aspect,  however,  discipline  falls  to  the  lot  of  every 
Christian.  No  man  can  be  a  true  follower  of  Christ 
who  is  not  willing  from  the  first  to  practise  the  dis- 
cipline of  self-renunciation.  Such  self-renuncia- 
tion, indeed,  is  one  of  the  conditions  of  entering  His 
service  (Mk  8»">'-  11  Mt  10»»).  And  there  is  to  be  no 
limit  to  the  sacrifice  required.  It  must  be  endured 
even  to  the  severance  of  earth's  closest  ties  (Mt 
10")  and  the  loss  of  life  itself  (24»,  Jn  16^).  Few 
things  are  more  impressive  than  the  manner  in 
which,  from  the  very  beginning  of  His  ministry 
(cf.  Mk  !"■  '8),  our  Lord  assumed  His  right  to  claim 
from  His  followers  that  utter  self-repudiation,  and 


DISCOURSE 


DISCOURSE 


461 


confidently  expected  on  their  part  b 
to  His  demand  (Mt  9»  19-'>). 


illing  response 


morbic 


One  particular  aspect  of  this  Christian  self-denial 
calls  for  separate  consideration.  The  Gospel  teach- 
ing allords  little  support  to  those  who  have  sou; 
to  express  self-renunciation  in  the  fmii 
asceticism.  Christ's  own  exanijile,  in  su;;>;fsnve 
contrast  with  that  of  His  forerunncT,  leads  us  to 
the  very  opposite  conception  of  religious  discipline 
(Mt  11"'-).  Along  the  pathway  of  poverty  {Mt  8-") 
and  persecution  (Jn  7"  S"')  to  which  He  called  His 
disciples,  He  Himself  ^\alked ;  yet  alike  in  His 
own  life  and  in  His  thought  for  them  (Mt  9",  cf. 
1  Ti  5=^)  ascetic  discipline  received  no  prominence. 
There  appears  to  he  just  a  hint  of  it  in  one  of  His 
sayings  (Mt  W",  cf.  1  Co  7^-"^-),  but  even  there  it  is 
distinctly  stated  less  as  a  rule  for  the  many  than 
as  an  ideal  for  some  few  to  whom  a  special  call 
might  come.  In  Christ's  view  the  'fasting'  con- 
sequent upon  real  sorrow  -was  so  inevitable,  that 
any  merely  formal  anticipation  of  it  was  to  be 
deprecated  rather  than  approved  (Mt  9'").  See, 
further,  art.  Asceticism. 

For  ecclesiastical  '  discipline '  see  art.  CHURCH. 

H.  BiSSEKER. 

DISCOURSE.— No  attempt  is  here  made  to  dis- 
cuss in  all  its  bearings  the  general  tlieme  of  the 
discourses  of  Jesus.  His  'Teaching,  Parables, 
Sermon  on  the  Jlount,  etc.,  receive  attention 
in  special  articles.  All  tliat  is  here  undertaken 
is  to  mention  in  some  sort  of  classification  all  the 
discourses,  and  to  append  a  brief  outline  of  their 
principal  characteristics. 

i.  Classification  and  Mention. — The  diffi- 
culties of  any  attempt  at  classifying  the  discourses 
of  our  Lord  are  apparent  at  a  glance.  They  arise 
alike  from  the  forms  in  which  the  discourses  are 
recorded  and  from  their  character  and  contents. 
Considering  the  fact  that  our  Lord  did  not  write 
anything,  or  even  cause  His  discourses  to  be 
exactly  reported ;  considering,  too,  the  great 
variety  of  occasions  which  called  forth  His  utter- 
ances, and  His  own  easy  freedom  and  mastery  of 
method  in  dealing  with  these  occasions ;  consider- 
ing, further,  the  difl'erences  in  length,  form,  con- 
tents, and  yet  the  cross-similarities  and  repetitions 
which  the  discourses  exhibit,  we  see  at  once  that 
a  scientific  and  satisfactory  classification  is  impos- 
sible. Yec  there  are  obvious  advantages  for  study 
in  mentioning  the  discourses  in  sonie  sort  of  orderly 
way.  For  our  purpose  it  will  not  be  necessary  to 
take  account  of  critical  questions  concerning  the 
differences  between  the  Fourth  Gospel  and  the 
Synoptics,  or  between  the  Synoptics  themselves, 
or  to  pay  attention  to  matters  of  harmony  and 
chronology,  though  under  each  grouping  the  com- 
monly accepted  order  of  events  is  followed.  The 
classification  proposed  runs  upon  the  general  prin- 
ciple of  audiences,  and  groups  the  discourses 
according  as  they  were  delivered  to  (1)  individuals, 
(2)  a  select  few,  or  (3)  the  public.  Subdivisions 
will  be  apparent  under  these  geneial  heads. 

1.  Interviews  with  individuals.  —  Leaving  out 
colloquies  with  particular  persons  in  presence  of 
others,  there  are  to  be  mentioned  under  this  head 
only  (1)  the  discourse  with  Nicodemus  on  Re- 
generation (Jn  3'"-'),  and  (2)  the  discourse  with  the 
woman  of  Samaria  on  Worship  and  Salvation  (4=-="). 

2.  Talks  with  a  few. — These  may  be  subdivided 
as  follows:  (1)  Discourses  with  others  than  the 
disciples.  At  these  we  cannot  be  sure  of  the 
absence  of  disciples,  but  their  presence  is  not  stated 
or  certainly  implied,  and  the  words  were  not 
specially  addressed  to  them.  To  this  class  belong : 
the  discourse  on  Forgiveness,  \vith  tlic  ]i:tralile  of 
the  Two  Debtors,  given  at  the  house  ..f  SiiiH.n  tlie 
Pharisee  (Lk  7""-'^") ;  the  beginnin-  cf  Ibr  disccmrse 
on  Tradition  (eating  with  unwashen  liands),  though 


later  '  he  called  the  multitudes,'  '  and  the  disciples 
came  unto  him '  (Mt  15'"-",  Mk  7'""") ;  the  De- 
nunciation of  the  Pharisees  and  Lawyers  at  the 
house  of  a  chief  Pharisee  (Lk  IP'"'") ;  tlie  discourse 
at  another  Pharisee's  house,  where  He  discussed 
Modcsly,  <;iving  Feasts,  and  spoke  the  parable  of 
the  (uciit  Feast  and  Excuses  (Lk  ll'--^) ;  finally, 
the  discourse  at  the  house  of  Zacchseus,  W'ith  the 
parable  of  the  Pounds  (Lk  19'"^). 

(2)  Discourses  with  the  disciples  and  others. 
Here  the  audience  consisted  in  part  of  the  dis- 
ciples and  in  part  of  others,  the  presence  of  botli 
classes  being  either  distinctly  stated  or  clearly 
implied.  As  to  the  numliers  present,  the  circum- 
stances seem  to  restrict  thorn  somewhat,  though  it 
is  difl[icult  to  say  just  to  wliat  extent,  and  therefore 
howfarthcso  sliould  be  n-jnr.Inl  as  iniiprrly  public 

l',-isting(Mt:ii'-i',  Mk  -J'  .  I.k  :,  -  )  ;  tbi.  response 
to  object  urs  on  SabiMlh  l  )\.^ry.  :,,)■;•  (Mt  12'-»,  Mk 
2--=8,  Lk  ti'-'') ;  respond.-  :,lio„t  hollowing  Him  (Mt 
S'^-'^^LkO"-"-) ;  response  to  I  h,.  bn^yor  about  Eternal 
Life,  and  jjarableof  the  ( looil  Saiii;iriian(Lk  10^'*"", 
cf.  v.=^) ;  on  Divorce  (Mt  1!1'-'-,  Mk  lu--'=) ;  response 
to  the  Rich  Young  Kulcr,  with  discourse  on  the 
Perils  of  Wealth  and  on  Forsaking  All  and  Follow- 
ing Him  (Mt  Iflu-so,  Mk  10"-^',  Lk  IS'^-so);  the 
parable  of  the  Labourers  in  the  Vineyard  (Mt 
201-16) ;  response  to  the  request  of  certain  Greeks, 
with  remarks  on  His  Death  and  Glory  (Jn  12™"^). 
Other  discourses  of  the  last  Passover  week  seem  to 
have  been  given  in  presence  of  the  crowd,  though 
directly  addressed  to  smaller  groups. 

(3)  Discourses  with  the  disciples  alone.  These 
contain  some  of  the  most  notable  of  our  Lord's 
utterances.  In  some  cases  others  than  the  Twelve 
were  present,  but  usually  the  audience  was  all,  or 
a  portion  of,  the  Apostles.  It  will  not  be  necessary 
to  observe  this  distinction  in  the  enumeration. 
This  group  of  discourses  may  be  subdivided  into 
two  kinds.  («)  Short  occasional  discourses:  the 
explanation  of  tlie  Parable  of  tlie  Tares,  with  the 
short  parables  that  follow  (Mt  13'"-=-) ;  tlie  caution 
against  Pharisaic  Leaven  (Mt  IC'-,  Mk  8"-^')  ; 
remarks  about  His  Church  upon  Peter's  confession 
(Mt  16"-=»,  Mk  8"-»,  Lk  9i»-=') ;  the  immediately 
following  discourse  on  His  Death  and  on  Self- 
Denial  (Mt  16='-^,  Mk  831-9',  Lk  9==-°-') ;  talk  after 
the  Transfiguration  (Mt  17°"'^  Mk  Q^-'^) ;  a  second 
foretelling  of  His  Death  and  Resurrection  (Mt 
17--- 23,  Mk  9»-32,  Lk  9«-'^);  discourses  at  the 
Mission  and  Return  of  the  Seventy  (Lk  10'"") ; 
teaching  as  to  Prayer,  with  parable  of  the  Friend 
at  Midnight  (Lk  11'-'=);  parable  of  the  Unjust 
Steward  (Lk  16'-'^) ;  teaching  as  to  Oflences,  Faith, 
Service  (Lk  17'-"') ;  third  prediction  of  His  Death 
and  Resurrection  (Mt  20"-^^  Mk  lO^--'',  Lk  IS'^-^) ; 
talk  about  Faith  suggested  by  the  Withered  Fig- 
tree  (Mt  21="--2,  Mk  ll^'-^") ;  talk  following  the 
Washing  of  the  Disciples'  Feet  (Jn  13'=-™) ;  institu- 
tion of  the  Lord's  Supper  (Mt  26='i-=»,  Mk  U^-^, 
Lk  22'9-  =»)  ;  after  the  resurrection,  talk  with  the 
Two  Disriplrs  nn  tlie  way  to  Emmaus  (Lk  24"-") ; 
witli  llie  A|K.  :|  .,  Thomas  absent  (Lk  24s«-«  Jn 
20''''-  )  :  1. 1  Ik  -li'ii  ome  of  the  Apostles  at  the  Sea 
of  (kdikr  i.lii  jl-- );  the  Great  Commission  (Mt 
28"'-'").— (/<)  Extended  discourses.  Probably  some  of 
those  mentioned  in  the  preceding  group  were  longer 
in  reality  than  in  report.  But  of  the  longer  dis- 
courses with  the  chosen  few  we  have  the  following : 
the  Mission  and  Instruction  of  the  Twelve  (Mt 
10'-^  Mk  6'-i3,  Lk  91-8)  ;  on  Humility,  Oflences, 
Forgiveness  (Mt  18'-=>5,  Mk  9'3-6i,  Lk  g"-"") ;  dis- 
course on  the  Mount  of  Olives  on  His  Second 
Coming  and  the  Final  Judgment  (Mt  24.  25,  M  k  1 3, 
Lk  21'-^) ;  the  Farewell  Discourse  and  Prayer  (Jn 
14-17). 

3.  Public  addresses.— Oi  these  we  may  again  in 


462 


DISCOURSE 


a  general  way  distinguish  three  groups,  according 
to  tlie  extent  eitlier  of  the  actual  discourse  or  of 
the  form  in  which  we  have  it.  (1)  Discourses 
mentioned  with  some  general  description  or  re- 
mark, but  with  little  or  no  detail  of  contents. 
Here  we  have  :  the  beginning  of  His  ministry  (JNIt 
4",  Mk  l'-*-  '=,  Lk  4"-  ") ;  the  sermon  at  Nazareth 
(Lk  4^""'*) ;  the  first  preaching  tour  in  Galilee  (Mt 
423-  ",  Mk  1»,  Lk  4-") ;  at  Capernaum  (Mk  2i-=-  ", 
Lk  5") ;  the  second  preaching  tour  in  Galilee  (Lk 
8>-=) ;  at  Nazareth  again  (Mt  13"-'>«,  Mk  6i-«) ;  the 
third  preaching  tour  in  Galilee  (Mt  9^-^,  Mk  6") ; 
a  tour  alone  after  sending  out  the  Twelve  (Mt  11') ; 
teaching  and  journeying  (Lk  IS'"-  —,  cf.  Mt  19', 
Mk  10');  teaching  in  the  Temple  (Mk  11'"'-,  Lk 

1947.48  2137.38). 

(2)  Short  occasional  discourses.  Of  these  there 
are  a  great  number  and  variety,  spoken  sometimes 
to  great  multitudes,  sometimes  to  groups,  but 
publicly  :  on  Blasphemy  (Mt  12--3',  Mk  3'"-™) ;  on 
Signs  (Mt  1238-^6) ;  latter  part  of  discourse  on  Eat- 
ing with  Unwashen  Hands,  and  Traditions  (Mt 
15'-=»,  Mk  7'-=^) ;  on  Signs  again  (Mt  16'-S  Mk 
S"- '-) ;  on  Demons  and  Signs  again  (Lk  11'^"^^) ;  on 
Confession,  Worldliness,  Watchfulness  (Lk  12) ; 
on  Repentance,  with  parable  of  the  Barren  Fig- 
tree  (Lk  13'-") ;  on  the  Good  Shepherd  (Jn  lO'""*); 
on  His  iMessiahship  and  Relations  with  the  Father 
(Jn  10"-^) ;  Sabbath  Healing,  parables  of  Mustard 
Seed  and  Leaven  (Lk  13'""-') ;  on  tlie  Salvation  of 
the  Elect  (Lk  IS^-^) ;  Lament  over  Jerusalem  (Lk 
]  334. 35)  .  (,„  Counting  the  Cost  of  Following  Him 
(Lk  14-^"35) ;  reproof  of  the  Pharisees,  with  parable 
of  the  Rich  Man  and  Lazarus  (Lk  16'^"") ;  on  the 
Coming  of  the  Kingdom  (Lk  17™-3') ;  on  Prayer, 
witli  parables  of  the  Importunate  Widow,  and  of 
the  Pharisee  and  Publican  (Lk  18'"'*)  ;  the  col- 
loquies with  His  critics  in  the  Temple,  on  His 
Authority,  on  the  Tribute  to  Ctesar,  on  tlie  Resur- 
rection, on  the  Great  Commandment,  on  the  Son 
of  David  (Mt  2123-22'«,  Mk  ll-''-12",  Lk  20); 
remarks  on  Belief  and  Unbelief  (Jn  la*'-^'). 

(3)  Extended  discourses.  Only  a  few  of  the  great 
discourses  of  our  Lord  .-ur  n  |m,i  1.  ,1  ;,;  ,  ',  ,,v,,  ;  the 
Sermon  on  the  Mount  iMi  :.  7,  !  I  >>  in  sense 
public,  though  addrt/s-i  r  I  |,i  im  1  :l  ,  1 ,,  :  l,,  iiMiples  ; 
discourse  at  the  feast  in  .Iri  ii -il,  m  .,11  His  Rela- 
tions with  the  Father  (.In  .5' "-^■) ;  011  .(olin  the 
Baptist  and  suggested  topics  (Mt  ll'-3»,  Lk  72^-3^)  ; 
the  first  gi-eat  group  of  parables,  the  Sower,  etc. 
(Mt  13'-»^  Mk  4'-»',  Lk  S*-'«)  ;  discourse  in  the 
synagogue  at  Capernaum  on  the  Bread  of  Life  (Jn 
g2!-65)  .  colloquy  in  the  Temple  on  His  Mission  (Jn 
7.  8) ;  second  great  group  of  parables,  the  Lost 
Sheep,  etc.  (Lk  lo'-H'") ;  last  public  discourse, 
Denunciation  of  the  Pharisees  (Mt23'-39,  Mk  123«-" 
Lk  20"-"). 

ii.  Some  Characteristics.— A  survey  of  the 
(lisconrscs  i.f  .Ii-s„s  presents  in  a  general  way  some 
of  tlnii  rlinnil.iisties,  which  maybe  summarily 
outlilH.I  .-1.  foll.,»s: 

1.  Tliiii  Lji.at  v;iriety.  (1)  Of  occasion.  (2)  Of 
contfTils.     (H)  Of  form. 

2.  Tlicir  wonderful  charm.  (1)  Of  personality 
— even  in  the  repoi't :  how  much  more'  in  His 
presence  !     (2)  Of  sympathy.     (3)  Of  manner. 

3.  Their  authority.  (1)  Consciousness  of  God. 
(2)  Self-assertion. 

4.  Their  power.  (1)  '  Magnetism '—personality, 
demeanour,  tone  (2)  Thought — then  and  e\ci 
more 


i.  Current  iireconceptions  prevalent  in  lime  of  Christ, 
ii.  References  to  sirkness  and  disease  in  the  Gospels. 
1.  Disea.ses  resulting  in  physical  defect  or  incapacity. 
•2,  Fever  and  allied  diseases. 

3.  Cutaneous  affections. 

4.  Dropsy. 

5.  Nervous  diseases. 

G.  Nervous  and  psychical  disorders. 
Literature. 

i.  Current  preconceptions  in  time  of 
Chrlst.  —  Two  ideas  respecting  ilisease  had  a 
powerful  influence  on  conceptions  current  in  our 
Lord's  day:  (1)  The  belief  that  all  sickness  and 
physical  disease  and  pain  were  penalties  imposed 
as  the  result  of  sin ;  (2)  the  idea  that  demonic 
agency  was  concerned  with  all  human  suftering. 
These  kindred  and  allied  ideas  have  been  common 
among  ancient  peoples,  and  were  strongly  de- 
veloped among  the  Babylonians,  Persians,  and 
Greeks. 

Sayce,  in  his  Hibhert  Lectures  (310,  334-5),  gives  evidence  of 
the  ancient  Akkadian  belief  that  disease  and  sickness  were 
caused  by  specific  malevolent  spirits  which  possessed  the  person. 
The  demons  had  been  eaten  with  the  food,  drunk  with  the  water, 
or  inbreathed  from  the  air ;  and  until  the  evil  power  had  been 
expelled  the  victim  had  no  chance  of  recovery.  Exorcism  was 
effected  by  the  sorcerer-priest,  the  intermediary  between  man- 
kind and  the  spiritual  world,  using  magic  spells  consisting  of 
the  names  of  deities,  the  name  signifying  the  personality  of 
the  god,  who  was  compelled  by  this  use  of  the  name  to  attend 
to  the  exorcist. 

Among  the  Semites  any  mysterious  natural  ob- 
ject or  occurrence  appealing  strongly  to  the  im- 
agination or  exciting  sentiments  of  awe  and 
reverence  was  readily  taken  as  a  manifestation 
either  of  Divine  or  of  demonic  life  (W.  R.  Smitli, 
ES 1 19  ff. ).  The  demons,  if  offended,  avenged  them- 
selves by  sending  various  forms  of  disease.  Indi- 
cations are  found  in  the  Gospels  that  such  ideas 
were  not  extinct  in  the  time  of  Christ.  The  ohl 
Semitic  strain  of  conception  was  modified  and 
quickened  by  contact  with  Babylonian,  Persian, 
and  Grecian  peoples,  and  prevaOed  with  consider- 
able force  in  the  later  Judaism.  The  NT  reflects 
the  ideas  of  a  time  when  the  older  conceptions 
were  breaking  up,  but  had  not  yet  disappeared. 

Our  Lord  gives  no  sanction  to  any  such  thought 
of  disease,  and  when  the  disciples  betrayed  their 
mode  of  thought  (Jn  9=)  He  took  occasion  to  com- 
bat the  ancient  superstition.  Although  He  did 
frequently  mark  sin  as  the  cause  of  much  physical 
weakness  and  disease  (see  art.  IMPOTENCE),  yet 
He  denies  that  all  sickness  was  penal  in  character. 
Other  ends  were  in  the  Divine  purview  besides  the 
punishment  of  personal  sin  (Jn  9^).  In  St.  Luke'.s 
Gospel  high  fever  seems  to  be  attributed  by  impli- 
cation to  an  evil  agency,  and  Jesus  is  said  to  have 
rebuked  (eVeri/ijjirei')  the  fever  (Lk  43*-  ^) ;  but 
probably  this  must  be  explained  as  a  reflexion  of 
the  current  preconceptions.  In  Lk  13'"  no  refer- 
ence is  necessarily  made  to  sin  having  given  power 
to  Satan  to  aHlict  the  woman.  Demons  were 
associated  with  disordered  conditions  of  human 
lilV,  :is  .li-iMsc  and  infirmity:  with  dumbness  (Mk 
9",  l.k  '.I'l.  w  iili  deafness  and  dumbness  (Mk  9"), 
Willi  l.liii.lii.-,  ,-uul  dumbness  (Mt  12='),  and  with 
epilepsy  (.Ml<  l='i  II™,  Lk  !|3-').  Tliese  physical  de- 
fects aie  not  neci-^-n  :l\  injnni  -i.itions  of  demonic 
influence,  but   ai.  111   close  alliance 

witli  them  In  SI  II  I  I  I.  also,  it  is  note- 
wortlij  that  a  ilistin  !:■  11  i  1  ..rded  as  made  by 
Jesus  between  the  exMrcisin  of  demons  and  ordin- 
ary cures  (eKJiiWia  Sai/idma  Kal  i'd<rcis  dTroTeXii,  Lk 
I  i>")  *     See   further,  art.  Demon. 

•  II  1     n\i   I      '  ir,„„,i.,.„-  „f  St.  Lxike)  and  other  writers 

js  of  the  Third  Evangelist  the 

But  the  argument  may  be 

St.  Luke's  style  and  vocabulary 

.-^ir.al  Greek,  and  many  of  the 

, cur  in  the  LX.X,  and  may  have 


DISEASE 


DISEASE 


ii.  References  in  the  Gospels  to  sickness 

AND  DISEASE.— 

The  terms  emiiloycd  by  the  Evangelists  to  denote    bodilj 

aihnents  are—  .  ^     ,,      v 

(1)  iir»£»s.«,  literally  want  nf  strcnnlh  (ot  pnv.  and  <r»E»o!)> 

— : — ^piur  rlpTinfinir  wpnknp^'i.  aiid  visually  'infirmity'  or  'iii- 

ises'(svovTs,-' io-»f.i<«.-);  in  MtS" 

■        •  ■    •"   ■-  UJ  AV  


primarily  denoting  weakn 


and  associ: 


![Lk 

associated  with  yoircs  in  Lk  4-*' 
(2)  ««X«»«  CcutXio-o-i/,  '  soft 
(a)  softness 


,  Jn  65]  '  infirmity  ' 


well  as  sickness ;  (b)  periodic 
and  chronic  sickness  and  consequent  languor  of  body. 
The  word  is  used  in  Mt  4'-«  '■'*  fl^'  IQi,  where  it  is  associ- 
ated with  >sV«.-.  The  first  named  passage  is  one  in 
which  the  various  ailments  that  our  Lord  healed  are 
enumerated  and  apparently  discriminated  (of.  AV  and 
RV). 

(3)  »«V«  (from  v»i- '  not,'  and  o-oo; '  sound  '  (?])  is  employed  to  in- 
dicate more  acute  and  violent  seizures  than  fM-Xxxtx ;  found  in 
lit  423.  U  gn  935  101,  Mk  13^  313,  Lk  4-'0  &~  "21  91.  In  the  Markan 
and  Lukan  (exc.  Lk  440)  passages  the  diseased  are  distinguished 
from  the  demonized. 

(4)  virvifioi,  a  disease  or  sickness,  Jn  S-i  (only). 

(5)  Tsti!  xoLxZ;  ixn-rai!  is  a  frequent  expression  for  those  that 
were  sick,  and  in  Mk  134  we  have  the  fuller  expression  ToAAoi-f 

xaxSis  ix^vTx!  ^otxiXai;  >off-ols. 

Of  the  presence  of  specific  diseases  much  fuller 
indications  are  more  or  less  distinctly  given  in  tlie 
OT  than  in  the  NT.  Instances  of  these  may  be 
understood  as  included  in  the  miscellaneous  cases 
of  sickness  and  disease  wliich  our  Lord  repeatedly 
dealt  with.  Among  tlii-m  :uc  vaiicms  forms  of 
skin  disease,  wliich  ^ve^•  .111.1  :\rr  \(ryrnniniim  in 
the  East;  also  of  fever  .uhI  .aUnl  ilisonlcis,  ex- 
tending to  iilague  and  jiustileiuc  ;  di.scaNe.s  uf  the 
digestive  organs ;  infantile  and  senile  diseases ; 
affections  of  the  brain  or  other  parts  of  the 
nervous  system ;  and  disordered  conditions  of  the 
psychical  side  of  human  nature.  All  of  these  are 
referred  to  in  the  OT  with  some  amount  of  deflnite- 
ness  as  to  symptoms. 

The  diseases  mentioned  in  the  Gospels,  and  dealt 
with  in  direct  and  Divine  fashion  by  Jesus  (see  art. 
Cures),  include  cases  of  physical  defect;  fevers 
and  kindred  diseases ;  skin  diseases,  notably  that 
of  leprosy  ;  a  solitary  case  of  dropsy  ;  ailments 
and  inlhiiiilies  that  wi-ic  iirvvou-i  in  ch.naitcr  ; 
and  otlicr^  whirh  wen-  a  coiiiliiii;!!  imi  "t  im-muu-- 
and  psyrliinil  .li~..i  ,l,.,-.  Tli.-..;  ^;l^luu--  iilll.rl  ,.„,- 
are  not  ahvajs  to  lie  mtaiiilv  iili'iililicd  with  )iai- 
ticular  forms  of  disease  with  which  modern  medical 
.science  is  familiar.  The  description  of  the  cases 
is,  for  the  most  part,  far  removeil  from  being 
scientific,  but  yet  enables  us  to  broadly  distin- 
guish them  froni  one  another  and  to  classify  them 
with  fair  exactitude. 

1.  Diseases  resulting  in  physical  defect,  or  in- 
capacity.—(1)  Defect  in  the.  orr/nns  of  speech.— The 
case  of  the  dumb  man  recorded  in  Mt  SF---"  was 
associated  with  features  of  mental  disturbance 
leading  the  people  to  attribute  the  dumbness 
to  demonic  possession.  'When  the  demon  was 
cast  out,  the  dumb  spake,'  as  though  no  physical 
defect  existed  apart  from  the  psychical  disturb- 
ance. Interesting  cases  are  known  in  which 
mental  .leianui'iiuMit  has  been  manifested  in  an 
inhibition  oi  ■,,„,.  of  th,.  senses.  Kay  (Facfn,:-^  of 
an  Ui,.s„,r,i'/  M,p.l\  -iv.s  an  instance  in  which  the 
patient  ^^as  nnaMe  (o  see  the  (.'olumn  in  the  I'lace 
Vendome  in  Paris,  and  believed  it  to  have  been 
removed.  A  similar  inhibition,  resulting  from 
psychical  rather  than  jihysical  causes,  might  be 
applied  to  the  organs  of  speech. 

(2)  Defect  in.  the  organs  o/scresc— Among  defects 
notably  ■common  in  the  East  is  that  of  blindness 
(see  art.  Sk:ht,  B).     Deafness  is  usually  accom- 

.■MiiMtnihr  !;•  :,ii_<  h^i   If, Mil  l!iii    ^niirce.     The  varied  terms 

applM.li  I.I.    I     mil  the  demonized,  which 

./I-,    ;.,,;.  ..  II  that  the  Evangelist  dis- 

i i-h.  ,1  1.  I ..,.  1.  1 1..  -..  nihil.  Ill-,  Mr  found  not  in  Luke,  but  in 


panied  by  dnnibnoss,  being  indeed  often  t!ie  main 
cause  of"il  tlie  t.nii  deafiaute  thus  accurately 
de.seril.iiii;  liie  limilalioii.     Sc-  JlKAF  AXU  Dr.Mli. 

(3)  1 1,1  els  ni  Ihr  nnia„sl,nll,  ,f.,n,,r  ,ni,l  speech. 
—In  Mt  I'J--  liliii.liiess  and  dumbness  are  eniiibined, 
together  with  mental  disturbance.  In  this  case 
the  restoration  is  not  spoken  of  as  a  castinr;  out  of 
the  demon,  but  as  a  healing  (^SepdTrewei'),  indicat- 
ing that  there  was  serious  physical  defect  to  be 
remedied.  Mt  17"=''= Mk  9""-  =  Lk  ^-^  records 
a  case  in  which  both  deafness  and  dumbness  were 
found  along  with  epilepsy  and  periodical  mental 
derangement.  Mt.  and  Lk.  do  not  give  the 
features  of  deafness  and  dumbness,  but  confine 
themselves  to  the  mental  features,  which  they  do 
not  describe  so  fully  as  Mark.  Mk  7^=""  is  a 
peculiarly  intiTi^liim  iii-tance  of  deafness  com- 
bined with  iii.a].:i.iiy  1.1  -[..cell.  The  description 
is  Kt>i4>bv  Kai  pi,-,i\:\.]r.  111.-  deafness  might  give 
rise  to  the  staiiini.iinu,  ami  the  fact  that  total 
dumbness  had  not  resulted  rather  points  to  a  com- 
paratively early  stage  of  tlie  affliction.  The  signs 
employed  by  Jesus  in  the  healing  are  exactly 
adapted  to  reach  the  intelligence  of  such  a  defect- 
bound  soul  (see  art.  Cures). 

2.  Fever  and  allied  diseases.— Various  diseases 
of  a  kindred  nature  to  fever  were  common  in 
the  East  and  from  the  earliest  times,  and  were 
probably  not  very  rigorously  distinguished  from 
each  other  :  fever,  ague,  and  a  wasting  disease  re- 
sembling Mediterranean  fever.  The  NT  speaks  of 
TTuperis,  'fever,'  in  Lk  4»»  and  Jn  4=-.  The  term 
in  Mt  S'-"  and  Mk  1™  is  irvpiaaovaa  ;  while  in  Lk  4'" 
tlie  illness  of  Peter's  wife's  mother  is  spoken  of 
(possibly  with  a  reference  to  the  division  made 
liy  the  Greeks  into  greater  and  lesser  fevers)  as 
oiie  in  which  the  patient  was  avvexofnivri  irupery 
IJ.(yd\w,  indicating  a  continued  and  probably  malig- 
nant fever,  rather  than  an  intermittent  feverisli 
attack  such  as  characterizes  ague.  The  super- 
normal feature  of  the  healing  jonsisted  in  the 
immediacy  of  the  recovery  without  the  regular 
debility  following  the  disease.  The  ailment  de- 
scribed ill  the  Gospels  was  probably  a  form  of 
ijialaiial  fever  which  prcNailed  in  the  valleys  of 
i'alestine  aii.l  rouiid  the  Sea  of  Galilee. 

3.  Skin  diseases.— riir  GT  bears  witness  to 
the  prevalence  in  Palestine  of  many  forms  of 
cutaneous  disease,  and  the  writings  of  travellers 
and  eye-witnesses  testify  to  the  fact  that  these 
are  still  fearfully  common,  being  perhaps  the  most 
characteristic  malady  of  the  East.  These  varieties 
of  skin  disease  are  not  referred  to  in  the  NT,  the 
only  one  in  evidence  there  being  that  most  dreaded 
afiection  of  the  skin,  which  was  also  in  the  worse 
forms  a  serious  constitutional  malady  affecting  the 
whole  organism,  which  bears  the  name  Icprosi/ 
(wh.  see). 

4.  A  solitary  case  of  dropsy  is  recorded  in  Lk 
14-,  described  as  vBpaT^Kbi.  No  account  is  given  of 
the  trouble,  the  controversy  with  the  Pharisees 
regarding  the  right  use  of  the  Sabbath  being  the 
main  interest.  No  indication  is  given  as  to  the 
seat  of  the  disease  which  caused  the  dropsy, 
whether  kidneys,  heart,  or  liver. 

5.  Diseases  of  the  nervous  system.  — Out 
of  22  cases  of  healing  wrought  by  Jesus  upon 
individuals,  8,  and  most  probably  10,  are  to  be 
classed  among  nervous  disorders,  either  with  or 
without  the  complication  of  psychical  disturb- 
ance. The  general  exorcisms  wliich  mark  our 
Lord's  career  are  of  the  sann;  order,  .and  .among 
the  general  healings  of  sickness  and  infirmity 
which    are    recorded    some    may    reasonably    be 

supposed  to  be  .of  the  sa har.iVter,  and  possibly 

many  of  them  were  |.iii.l\  n.  n..iis  or  hysterical 
afflictions.  Disease  ol  l.ram  . .  nl  i.-,  orof  the  nerve 
may  also  .account  for  som.'  of  I  h.-  .  ases  of  blindness. 


464 


DISH 


The  attempt,  however,  to  sliow  (1)  that  our  Lord's 
healings  may  be  all  reduced  to  cases  of  hysteria 
and  of  temporary  nervous  disorder,  such  as  readily 
yield  to  treatmrait  by  known  therapeutic  remedies, 
and  (2)  that  these  are  the  best  attested  of  the 
miracles,  sij,Tially  fails  (soe  art.  JIieacles)  ;  and 
yet  it  may  be  freely  recOLrnized  that  many  of  the 
ailments  cured  by  Jesus  belonged  to  the  nervous 
cate<;ory.  It  still  remains  that  those  who  desire 
to  minimize  to  the  fullest  extent  the  super-normal 
]>owers  of  Jesus  are  not  helped  by  these  facts,  for 
in  order  to  deal  eflectively  with  these  troubles  He 
must  not  only  have  removed  the  disturbing  cause 
in  the  psychical  nature,  but  also  brought  a  Divine 
power  to  bear  on  the  whole  nervous'system,  dis- 
persing in  some  cases  organic  defect  and  disease. 
Under  this  head  are  included — 

(1)  Parali/sis  01-  Pidsi/  {aeeart.  P.\RALYSIS). 

(2)  Epilepsy.  The  cases  in  the  XT  of  this  dis- 
tressing nervous  malady  are  coni])licated  with 
forms  of  mental  dislurbaiioe  (m'C  art.  l.rx.VTIC). 
But  it  may  lio  supposed  that  amun-  tli.i.-e  who 
were  regarded  as  pussossed  and  wlm-i'  ii'^turation 
was  included  under  tlie  general  exurcisias,  some 
were  cases  of  simple  epilepsy  (wli.  see). 

(3)  Probably  the  two  cases  of  general  impotence 
must  be  included  here — mentioned  in  Jn  5-  "  and 
Lk  13"-"  (see  art.  Impotence). 

(4)  In  all  likelihood  also  the  man  with  the 
withered  hand  was  one  nervously  afflicted.  The 
case  is  recorded  in  Jlt  12»->^  ISIk  Z^-\  Lk  6«-".  The 
incapacity  and  wasting  might  be  due  to  (n)  infantile 
paralysis,  the  disease  arresting  the  development 
and  growth  of  tissue,  leaving  the  limb  shrunk  and 
withered  ;  or  (h)  it  may  have  been  congenital ;  or 
(c)  it  might  be  due  to  some  direct  injury  to  the 
main  nerve  of  the  limb,  preventing  its  proper 
nutrition. 

Among  the  halt  and  withered  of  Jn  5'  probably 
there  were  cases  of  chronic  rheumatism,  joint 
diseases,  and  other  wasting  ailments,  in  many 
instances  com])licatcd  with  nervous  exhaustion 
and  weakness,  if  not  witli  positive  disease. 

6.  NerYOus  and  psychical  diseases.  —  Cases 
of  lunacy,  of  epilepsy  combined  with  insanity 
and  perhaps  those  allied  with  idiocy,  and  others 
generally  described  as  instances  of  demonic  posses- 
sion are  given  in  the  Gospels,  and  are  to  be  recog- 
nized as  having  a  twofold  causation,  on  the  one 
side  physical,  on  the  other  psychical ;  and  the 
problem  as  to  which  of  these  is  primary  in  any 
jiartioular  case  is  not  to  be  ligbtlj-  determined.  In 
this  ((inncxion  arises  the  outstanding  question  as 
to  the  possibility  of  a  genuine  spiritual  possession 
(see  art.  LUNATIC),  a  matter  which  may  well 
remain  with  us  for  some  time  yet  as  a  challenge 
Ix)th  to  medical  and  to  theological  investigation. 
The  science  of  anthropology  may  throw  much 
light  upon  it,  and  possibly  in  the  course  of  further 
inquiry  .some  of  the  conclusions  of  that  science  may 
be  found  in  need  of  — ' i:i;_-i;  _ 


read  of 


modification. 


LiTERATrRE. — For  facts  relatin^r  ^a  ttio  t'T't-^"' 
disease  in  Orientallands,  and  esperj,: 
llamlbook   of    Historical   Path,' 
Marr;o\van  in  Jewish  IntcUiQcnc, 
Labours,  1846;  Thomson,  Land  'i 
and,  for  leprosy,  ch.  43;  also  coii^u;,  „^..^,,.m.     u 
in  Hcrzog's  PRE^;  3&hn,  Archaoh„,ia  fiil.lN-'a,  ijt 
J.  Bisdon  Bennett,  Diseases  of  Bible ;  Hobart,  Medical  Lan- 


puaoe  of  St.  Lxdcc ;  Mason  Good,  Study  of  Medicine ;  art.  by 

Macalist'er  on '  Medicine '  in  Hastings'  DB.    For  Talmudic  con- 

ogue,    see 


Hastings' 
disease    and  medical   treatment 
wiinderbar,  Biblisch-Talmudische  Medicin, 

T.  H.  "Wright. 

DISH 1.  The  only  place  in  the  NT  (EV)  where 

this  word  is  found  is  in  the  record  of  the  betrayal 
of  Jesus  given  by  two  of  the  Synoptists  (Mt  26^, 
Mk  14=»). 


iini'.rd.  a  i..Iatit.i)stui»  of  .lirtrl  inlti-'ltpeiidence  <cf.  Wright's 
Suiv.psls  ,./  ilir  <„,sp,l.,  1,1  i;r,,l;  ]..  140),  but  rather  one  of 
.^'liiniori  liLj'.ii.ifii'r  ui'nu  the  >aTMe  or  kindred  sources,  oral  or 

m'2d-")-'       '      '""   "   °     °   "    '"■■'■'"'"'"■'" 

A  comparative  study  of  the  four  records  which 
tell  of  Jesus'  reference  to  His  impending  betrayal 
brings  to  light  some  not  unimportant  minor  ditter- 
ences,  and  at  the  same  time  reveals  the  agi-eement 
of  all  the  wTiters  in  the  belief  that  He  knew  of 
the  intentions  of  Judas,  and  warned  the  latter 
against  the  dark  deed.  To  the  Markan  account 
>vlueh  makes  Jesus  answer  the  anxious  question  of 
His  diseii)les  (^ijri  iyii ;)  by  the  vague  statement, 
'(it  is)  one  of  the  twelve  who  is  (now)  dipping  with 
me  in  the  dish,'  which  is  equivalent  to  the  previous 
6  eaeiuiv  fier'  ifiov  (v.'^  ;  on  this,  however,  cf.  Gould's 
St.  Mark,  ad  loc),  St.  Matthew  not  only  adds  a 
more  distinct  note  by  employing  the  aorist  (f/n^d^as) 
instead  of  the  present  Middle  (cfi.^airrifj.et'os),  by 
which  he  evidently  intended  to  convey  the  idea  of 
time,  but  he  also  informs  us  that  Jesus  gave  a 
direct  affirmative  replj'  (<n>  eijras)  to  Judas'  ques- 
tion. On  the  other  hand,  St.  Luke  agi-ees  with  St. 
Mark  in  leavin"  out  all  reference  to  an  indication 
of  the  traitor  beyond  the  statement  that  one  of 
those  present  at  the  meal  (fxi  ttjs  rpawi^r;^,  Lk  22'-') 
was  guilty,  whUe  the  author  of  the  Fourth  tlospel 
agrees  with  St.  Matthew  in  making  Jesus,  liy  a 
sign  {ek'eivos  iarw  ^  iy^  pdtpu)  rb  ipaixlov  koI  ouhtu) 
oirrij),  Jn  13-'),  point  him  out  to  his  fellow-disciples. 

One  thing  seems  to  emerge  clearly  from  the 
fourfold  account,  there  was  but  one  Tpvji\iov  on 
the  table,  and  each  one  dipped  his  bread  into  it 
as  he  ate  (see  O.  Holtzmann's  Lcben  Jcsu,  Eng. 
tr.  p.  458).  This  dish  contained  a  sour-.sweet 
sauce  (ripno),  which  was  composed  of  'a  cake  of 
fruit  beaten  up  and  mingled  with  vinegar'  (see 
Encye.  Bill.  art.  '  Passover,  §  17"  ;  cf.,  however, 
B.  "SVeiss'  The  Life  of  Christ,  iii.  p.  279).  Into  the 
sauce  pieces  of  unleavened  bread  and  bitter  herbs 
were  dipped  and  handed  round  by  the  chief  person 
of  the  assembled  party,  which  was  evidently  pre- 
liminary to  the  general  partaking  of  the  dish  (cf. 
/ter'  fMoO,  Mt  26=^  =  Mk  14™).  It  seems  that  this 
was  a  custom  of  late  introduction  into  the  Passover 
rite,  and  that  it  was  intended  to  enrich  the  mean- 
ing of  the  feast  by  a  symbolic  reference  to  the 
brick-making  period  of  Israel's  Egyptian  bondage 
(see  art.  '  Passover '  in  Hastings'  DB  iii.  p.  691''). 

^lost  scholars  have  sought  to  establish  the  rela- 
tive positions  of  Jesus  and  Judas  at  this  Pas.sover 
feast  from  the  incidents  referred  to  by  all  four 
P  ilI:  :~  H  f.  Edersheim's  Life  awl  Times  of 
■  i  '      "     I'lh,  ii.  pp.  493-507;  art.  'Apostle 

lo    ,  !i      inu's'  DB  ii.p.  esi';  Farrar's  Life 

1/  '  '  .  ii.  _'s4  11".  etc.).  The  variety  of  conclu- 
sions arrived  at  shows  how  impossible  it  is  to  settle 
a  question  of  the  kind.  If,  indeed,  opposite  each 
tnclinium  at  the  table  there  had  been  a  rpipKtov, 
then  the  answer  of  Jesus  to  His  disciples'  questions 
would  show  clearly  that  Judas  reclined  immedi- 
ately on  His  left.  This,  however,  as  we  have 
already  intimated,  is  not  probable  ;  and  the  only 
data  by  which  an  approximately  correct  impression 
may  be  received  lie  in  the  words  spoken  by  Jesus 
to  Judas  himself,  and  recorded  partly  by  St. 
Matthew  and  partly  by  St.  John  (cf.  Mt  26'-»  and 
Jn  13"'''-).  It  seems  more  than  probable  that  the 
traitor  reclined  somewhere  in  close  proximity  to 
Jesus,  that  their  hands  met  .is  both  dipped  together 
into  the  dish  (cf.  the  use  of  the  Middle  voice  by  St. 
M.ark  ;  see  Bengel's  Gnomon  of  NT  on  Mk  14'-»), 


I)ISi>EESION 


DISPERSION 


465 


and  that  in  this  way  Jesus  was  able  to  convey 
privately  to  Judas  the  fact  that  He  knew  of  the 
tatter's  intention. 

2.  A  very  good  example  of  the  way  in  which 
the  didactic  sayings  of  Jesus  were  caught  up  and 
handed  down  by  His  different  liearers  is  atlbrded 
by  the  Matthiean  and  Lukan  versions  of  the  words 
by  which  He  denounced  the  legal  quibblings  and 
Pharisaic  hypocrisy  of  His  day  (Mt  iS'"-,  Lk  11^"'-). 
There  is  just  sufficient  identity  both  in  language 
and  sense  to  guarantee  the  genuineness  of  the 
teaching.  At  the  same  time  there  is  a  marked 
variety  in  details  as  to  locality,  wording,  and  even 
as  to  tlie  particular  olijective  of  Jesus'  remarks. 
According  to  St.  Luke,  Jesus  denounces  the 
Pharisees,  while  a  guest  in  the  house  of  one  of 
their  number,  for  their  punctiliousness  in  keeping 
the  outside  of  their  vessels  clean,  their  own  hearts 
all  the  time  being  full  of  uncleanness.  The  con- 
trast is  between  the  outside  of  their  utensils  (xA 
l^affev  .  .  .  Tov  irimKos)  and  their  own  inner  lives 
or  characters  (t6  5^  la-aeo'  OnQv,  Lk  IP").  Here 
we  may  notice  that  the  word  translated  '  platter ' 
is  the  word  used  to  denote  the  flat  dish  (EV 
'charger')  on  which  (tTri  wbaKi)  the  Baptist's  head 
was  sent  to  Herodias  (Mt  U"-"  =  Mk  6==--*).  On 
the  other  hand,  St.  ISLattliew  makes  .Jesus  utter 
this  discourse  to  'the  iiiiiltitnrlps  and  to  his 
disciples'  in  the  Temple  (Ml  ■_■:;'.  if.  -iti).  Tlie 
denunciation  is  more  susl.iin.d  .ui.!  i  hrioricH],  as 
becomes  the  situation.  W  Immi  iIm-  \\  lidT  cihik-s  to 
the  contrast  spoken  of  altove,  lie  makes  Jesus 
institute  one  between  the  outside  of  the  dish  and 
its  contents,  looked  on  as  the  outcome  of  rapacity 
and  gluttony  (e^  apirayij!  Kal  d/cpa(r(os).  This  is 
again  more  suitable  to  the  word  he  employs,  which 
is  the  only  place  in  the  NT  «here  it  is  found  (t6 
l^uiBfv  .  .  .  Tijs  wapoij/ldos  stands  opposite  to  (aijjdfv 
=  Tb  ivrds  .  .  .  t^s  vapoxpiSoi,  see  Mt  23-''^'- ;  cf., 
however,  WH's  te.\t  in  Mt  -iS-"). 


The  word  Totpa^is 
•ntries  or  dainties  (set 
a,me  to  be  applied 


oripnall.v,  in  Atiio  Greelt,  used  of 
Idell  and  .Scott,  .s".*'.).     It  afterwards 

'  Meals  •  in  Eiwyc.  BiU.  iii.  a998,  n.  1) 
fved  ;  and,  lastly,  it  became  a  name 
;  table. 


In  both  these  cases  of  variation  it  is 
see  the  hand  of  the  editor  carefully  compiling  and 
arranging  his  materials  before  their  publication  in 
permanent  form.  J.  R.  Willis. 

DISPERSION  (omtTTopd).— The  word  (RV  of  Jn 
T\  Ja  1\  IP  1')  is  ;i  collective  term  denoting 
either  the  .lews  resident  outside  their  native 
country,  or  the  lands  in  which  they  lived. 

1.  The  Pharisees  and  chief  priests  sent  officers  to 
arrest  our  Lord,  and  He  told  them  that  in  a  little 
while  He  would  go  where  they  could  not  find  Him 
or  be  al)le  to  c-ome  to  Him.  The  Jews  who  were 
present  asked  where  He  could  possibly  go  that 
they  could  not  find  Him.  Would  He  go  to  the 
'  dispersion  among  the  Greeks '  {d^  rrjv  Sia<nropav 
Tuf  'EWrii/oii/)  *  and  teach  the  Greeks?  i.e.  would 
He  make  the  dispersed  .Jews  a  starting-point  for 
teaching  the  Greeks?  Narrow-minded  Jews,  dis- 
tinct from  '  the  people '  (6  6x^os)  of  vv.^'-  ■'",  they 
would  not  dream  of  defiling  themselves  by  going 
out  and  mixing  with  Gentiles,  and  they  sarcastic- 
ally suggested  that  that  was  the  only  way  in  which 
Jesus  could  esca|ie  tlieni. 

2.  It  i-  iimi-.-^-:n\  in  this  aificlc  to  deal  fully 
with  IIm'  hi  .1  .  :.  ...  i.iiluiii-^  cif  (lie  Dispcrsion; 
but  a  \<  ■  ''  '  '  '  '  li  iii^iy  !"■  n~.ful.  In  the 
timeof  I  111]  I  i!ii.l.\\-<  nf  tin' ]  )i^prrsi<in  were  to 
be  found  in  six  main  colonies  :  Babylonia,  Egypt, 
Syria,  Asia  Minor,  Greece,  and  Rome. 

{a)  Babylonia.— The  Jews  in  the  far  East  were 
*  For  the  genitive,  cf.  1  P  l'. 
VOL.  I.— M 


the  descendants  of  those  who  remained  when  small 
bodies  returned  under  Zerubbabel  and  Ezra.  And 
their  numbers  were  afterwards  increased  by  a 
transportation  of  Jews  to  Babylonia  and  Hyrcania 
under  Artaxerxes  III.  Ochus  (358-338).  Many 
have  thought  that  1  P  5'^  refers  to  a  comnninity 
of  Christians  among  the  Jews  in  Babylon  ;  but 
this  is  improbable  (see  Hort,  1  Peter,  pp.  5  f.,  167- 
170).  From  Babylon,  Jews  moved  in  many  direc- 
tions to  Elam  (cf.  Is  11"),  Persia,  Media,  Armenia, 
and  Cappadocia.  The  Babylonian  Jews  were  the 
only  portion  of  the  Diaspora  which  maintained  its 
Judaism  more  or  less  untouched  by  the  Hellenism 
which  permeated  the  West.  Their  remoteness, 
however,  did  not  prevent  the  loyal  payment  of  the 
annual  Temple-tax,  which  was  collected  at  Ne- 
hardea  and  Nisibis  and  sent  to  Jerusalem  (see 
below). 

(b)  JS/ji/pt.—Jeviii  had  migrated  to  Egypt  as  early 
as  586,  when  Johanan  son  of  Kareah  conducted  a 
small  body  of  them,  including  Jeremiah,  to  Tah- 
panhes  (Jer  42.  43).  Jews  also  settled  (Jer  44')  in 
Migdol,  Noph  (Memphis),  and  Pathros  (Upper 
Egypt).  The  great  majority  of  tlio  colonists  in 
Alexandria  must  have  .settleil  tlun-  (■•■nly  in  the_ 
period  of  the  Ptolemies,  in  wliirh  <■■,<. r  lii.  y  may 
have  been  among  the  earliest  inl].il>iUini^  ni  Alex- 
ander's new  city;  and  they  umlouljicdly  received 
special  privileges  (.Jos.  c  Apion,  ii.  4 ;  BJ  II. 
xviii.  7  f.).  The  kindness  which  they  received  in 
Palestine  from  Ptolemy  I.  Soter  induced  numbers 
of  them  to  migrate  to  Egypt  during  his  reign. 
And  many  more  may  have  been  transported  as 
prisoners  of  war  during  the  subsequent  struggles 
between  the  Ptolemies  and  the  Seleucids.  Philo 
(in  Flaee.,  ed.  M;inj;ey,  ii.  ri2.':)  less  tlian  ten  years 
after  our  Lord's  di.-illi  ,^,iy^  lli.il  t\\<p  eiil  iie  .|ii;irtei's 
of  Alexandria  were  kne«ii    :i.s    'tli-    iewi-li,'  ,and 


many 


3st  of 


the  city.  Another  congregation  of  Jews  was 
formed  at  Lcontopolis  in  the  nonie  of  Heliopolis 
on  the  Eastern  border  of  the  Nile  delta.  The 
high  priest  Onias,  son  of  Simon  the  Just,  was 
granted  permission  by  Ptolemy  VI.  Philometor  to 
settle  there  when  he  fled  with  some  adherents  in 
173  or  170  from  his  enemies  Antiochus  IV.  Epi- 
phanes  and  the  sons  of  Tobias.  He  built  a  fort- 
ress, and  within  it  a  temple  where  the  worship  of 
Jehovah  was  carried  on.  This  continued  till  .\.li. 
73,  when  the  temple  was  destroyed  by  order  of 
Vespasian  (Jos.  Ant.  XIII.  iii.  2,  XIV.  viii.  1  ;  BJ 
I.  ix.  4,  VII.  X.  2-4). 

(c)  Syria. — The  Egyptian  Diaspora  had  been 
formed  largely  owing  to  the  increased  facilities 
for  travel  and  intercourse  resnltin.o;  from  Alex- 
ander's conquests.     And  the  sai an^i-  o].ernted 

in  Syria.  Damascus  had  recei\ecl  l-r:ie|;ic  colon- 
ists 'in  very  early  times  (1  K  2i)  ').  I  n  Nei.. .,  reign 
there  were,  according  to  Je~e|iliiw  ( /;./  ii.  \\.  _),  no 
fewer  than  lO.diiu  .l,.«  -  in  liie.it.v.     .\ni  inrhus  iv. 

EpiphaneS      C(jnee.le,l       lo     Ihe     .lews     I  lie      llullt     of 

free  settlement  in  Aiitioeli  ;  ani,  owiii.i;  to  llie  su(t- 
ce.sses  and  prestige  of  tlie  Maccabees  in  Palestine, 
the  neighbouring  provinces  of  Syria  received  a 
larger  admixture  of  Jews  than  any  other  country 
[BJ  VII.  iii.  3). 

(d)  Asia  Minor.* —'Y\\\o\vA\  Syria  .lews  passed  to 
Asia  Minor  and  the  neiulilioiMiu'  inlands,  Cyprus, 
Crete,  etc.,  where  from  i;.i'.  l:;ii  and  onwards  they 
flourished  under  Roman  prolerli<.n.  See  Hort, 
1  Peter,  Add.  note,  pp.  157-184,  and  Ac  13-20. 

(e)  Greece.— It  is  related  in  1  Mac  12-''  that  the 
Spartans  sent  a  letter  to  the  high  priest  Onias 
saying  '  it  hath  been  found  in  writing  concerning 

•  It  is  convenient  to  nse  the  term,  although  its  first  known 
occurrence  is  in  Orosius  (Hist.  i.  2.  20),  a.d.  417.  He  speaks  as 
though  it  were  his  own  coinage ;  '  Asia  regio  vel,  ut  proprie 


466 


DISPERSION 


DISPERSION 


the  Spartans  and  the  Jews  that  they  are  brethren, 
and  that  they  are  of  tlie  stock  of  Abraham.'  This, 
though  legendary,  implies  that  tliere  was  at  least 
an  acquaintance  between  members  of  the  two 
races.  Jewish  inscriptions,  moreover,  have  been 
found  in  Greece  ;  and  there  were  firmly  established 
Jewish  communities  in  Thessalonica,  Beroea,  and 
Corinth  wlien  St.  Paul  visited  them  (Ac  17.  18). 

(/)  liomc. —The  lii>t  contact  of  tlie  Jews  with 
Rome  was  in  tlie  time  nf  llic  M.iccaljees  ;  cii'lia-- 
sieswere  sent  by  Juda^  ami  .(uiiatlian,  and  a  formal 
alliance  was  concluded  liy  Simon  in  B.C.  14U(1  .Mac 
J424  1515-2J)  j^  fg^y  Jews  probably  reached  Rome 
as  traders ;  but  the  first  large  settlement  dates 
from  the  capture  of  Jerusalem  by  Pompey ,  B.C.  63. 
Julius  and  Augustus  admitted  them  to  a  legal 
standing  throughout  the  Empire  (see  the  series 
of  enactments  in  Jos.  Atit.  XIV.  viii.  5,  x.  1-8) ; 
the  latter  allowed  them  to  form  a  colony  on  the 
further  side  of  the  Tiber  ;  but  they  soon  gained  a 
footing  within  the  city,  and  had  synagogues  of 
their  own.  Tiberius  in  A.D.  19  banished  4000  to 
Sardinia.  In  the  early  days  of  Claudius  the  Jewish 
cause  was  upheld  at  court  by  the  two  Agrippas ; 
but  before  52  '  Claudius  had  commanded  all  Jews 
to  depart  from  Rome '  (Ac  18-) — '  impulsore  Chresto 
assidue  tumultuantes '  (Suet.  Claud.  25).  Under 
Nero  the  Jews  in  Rome  once  more  gained  ground. 

3.  The  Jews  dispersed  in  these  various  settle- 
ments did  not  entirely  cut  themselves  off  from 
their  national  centre,  Jerusalem.     Even  the  Jews 

at  ], i(i|  <ili,.  ili.>ugh  their  w^orship  was  strictly 

siK  K  ileal,  did  not  allow  their  religi- 

on- In  quench  their  national  feeling. 

Tlie\  eiili  ;:i.M  (lesar's  cause  in  Egypt,  contrary 
to  their  first  impulse,  because  of  the  injunctions  of 
Hyrcanus  the  high, priest  at  Jerusalem,  and  Anti- 
pater  the  Jewish  general  (Jos.  Ant.  Xiv.  viii.  1  ; 
BJ  I.  i.\.  4). 

There  were  two  important  links  which  bound 
the  Diaspora  in  all  parts  of  the  world  to  their 
mother  city. 

(n)  The  annual  payment  of  the  Temple-tax  (the 
half-shekel  or  didrachm),  and  of  other  offerings. 
One  of  the  privileges  which  they  enjoyed  under 
the  Diadochi  and  afterwards  under  the  Romans 
was  that  of  roiniiiLT  ttieir  own  money  for  sacred 
]inr)in-e>.  [It  M.i-  I  111-  -Mcieil  ioiiia,i;e  that  foreign 
,le\\>  wcie  ol.lij.',!  lu  ;_ei  (i.im  tile  nioney-cliaugers 
ill  exeliaiiue  to;  ilii'  oidinaiv  ei\il  monev,  when 
they  came  to.l,ni>alem  tor  the  lestivals,  Mt  2V\ 
Mk  1 1'-',  .In  l"^'-.  Anil  it  Ava-  this  variety  of  coin- 
age that  cnaliled  our  Lord  to  yive  His  absolutely 
simple  lait  uiiansweralile  decision  on  what  the  Jews 
thought  was  a  dilemma  ;  decj)  spiritual  meaning, 
no  doubt,  underlay  His  words,  but  their  surface 
meaning  was  sufficient  to  silence  His  opponents : 
'  Render  to  Ctesar  the  civil  coin  on  which  his 
iiiijige  is  stamped,  and  render  to  God  the  sacred 
coin  which  belongs  to  Him  and  His  Temple  wor- 
sliii),'  Mt  22=',  Mk  12",  Lk  20"-=].  The  sacred 
money  was  collected  at  different  centres  (cf.  Mt 
17-'  ol  rd  SiSpaxjJ-a  Xa/ij3di'oi'Tts)  and  carried  under 
safe  escort  to  Jerusalem  (Pliilo,  cle  Monarch,  ii.  3). 
Josephus  relates  (Ant.  XVI.  vi.)  that  the  Jews  in 
Asia  and  Cyrene  w^ere  ill-treated,  and  that  the 
G.reeks  took  from  them  their  sacred  money  ;  but 
that  decrees  were  issued  by  Augustus,  Agrippa, 
and  two  proconsuls  to  the  effect  tliat  the  sacred 
money  of  the  Jews  was  to  be  untouched,  and  that 
tlioy  were  to  be  given  full  liberty  to  send  it  to 
.ler'usalein.  The  Babylonian  Jews  made  use  of  the 
two  strong  cities  Neliardea  and  Nisibis  to  .-.tore 
their  sacred  money  till  th<' time  lame  li>  .n,!  ii  i,, 
Palestine.  'The  "Jcv,-.  .leiicnlin^j  o,,  il,..  i:,ii.,.:,l 
strength  of  these  ].l:M'e-.  ,ie|„iMie(l  in  \\,,  ui  iln- 
half-shekel  which  everyone.  Iiy  the  eu-lo,,,  of  o,,, 
country,  offers  to  God,  and  as  many  other  dedi- 


catory offerings  (ava.eiitui.Ta)  as  there  were :  for 
they  made  use  of  these  cities  as  a  treasury,  whence 
at  the  proper  time  they  were  transmitted  to  Jeru- 
salem' (Ant.  XVIII.  ix.  1).  Such  priestly  dues  as 
consisted  of  sacrificial  flesh,  which  could  not  be 
sent  to  Jerusalem,  were  paid  to  any  priest  if  there 
happened  to  be  one  at  hand  (C/ial/a,  iv.  7-9,  11  ; 
Yadaim,  iv.S;Chullin,  x.  1  ;  Tcriniwth,  ii.  4). 

(b)  The  pilgrimages  made  to  Jerusalem  by  im- 
mense nunibers  of  foreign  Jews  at  the  three  annual 
festivals— Passover,  Pentecost,  and  Tabernacles. 
Josephus  says  that  Cestius  Gallus  had  a  census 
made  during  the  Passover,  and  the  priests  reckoned 
2,700,000  people  (BJ  VI.  ix.  3),  in  round  numbers 
three  millions  (id.  II.  xiv.  3). 

In  leading  the  Acts  it  is  evident  that,  had  tliere 
been  no  foreign  dispersion  of  the  Jews,  the  rapid 
progress  of  Christianity  could  not  have  been  what 
it  was.  At  the  feast  of  Pentecost  there  were 
gathered  Jews  from  the  four  quarters  of  the  Dia- 
spora—the far  and  near  East,  Europe,  and  Africa  ; 
and  soon  afterwards  Jews  received  Apostolic 
teaching  at  many  centres,  and  when  converted 
helped  to  spread  it  throughout  the  known  world. 
But  it  is  important  to  remember  that  before  that 
time  One  greater  than  the  Apostles  came,  more 
than  once,  into  immediate  contact  with  the  masses 
of  pilgrims  who  visited  Jerusalem  for  the  festivals. 
As  a  boy  of  twelve  He  first  met  them  (Lk  2^),  and 
He  probably  attended  many  festivals  in  the  18 
years  which  intervened  before  His  ministry  (see 
V.-").  At  a  Passover  He  displayed  to  them  His 
Divine  indignation  at  the  desecration  of  God's 
sanctuary  (Jn  2'^"'"),  and  many  believed  on  Him 
when  they  saw  His  miracles  (v.'-'').  It  would  seem 
as  though  the  longing  seized  Him  to  bring  all  these 
thousands  of  foreigners  to  His  allegiance  at  one 
stroke,  by  revealing  to  them  His  true  nature.  If 
we  may  say  it  reverently,  it  must  have  been  a 
temptation  to  Him  to  send  them  back  over  many 
countries  to  tell  all  men  that  God  had  become 
man.  But  His  own  Divine  intuition  restrained 
Him  (vv.*").  Immediately  before  another  Passover 
He  saw  the  crowds  moving  along  the  road  on  their 
way  to  Jerusalem  ;  and  they  came  to  Him,  and 
He  fed  them  (Jn  6''"'^).  Here,  again,  the  tempta- 
tion offered  itself  in  their  wish  to  make  Him  king  ; 
but  He  resisted  it,  and  was  able  to  persuade  them 
to  leave  Him  (6'^-).  At  a  feast  of  Pentecost  (so 
Westcott)  He  suddenly  appeared  in  their  midst 
at  Jerusalem,  and  many  believed  Him  to  be  the 
Messiah  when  they  heard  His  preaching  (Jn  7-- 
10-31. «)(.)  Yet  again  at  a  Passover  the  crowds  of 
pilgrims  gave  Him  another  opportunity  of  be- 
coming king  (Mt  21'-»,  Mk  11''°,  Lk  19»5-s»,  Jn 
12'--"),  but  He  chose  rather  to  gain  His  kingdom 
through  death.  It  was  for  their  benefit  that  the 
inscription  upon  the  cross  was  trilingual — Aramaic, 
Greek,  and  Latin  (Jn  19=°).  A  Jew  from  Africa, 
on  his  way  into  the  city,  was  forced  to  perform  an 
office  which  few  envied  him  at  the  time,  but  which 
has  never  been  forgotten  by  the  Christian  Church 
(Mk  15=').  Thus  time  after  time  the  accounts  of 
His  miracles  and  preaching,  and  finally  of  His 
patient  suffering  and  His  death,  and  perhaps  also 
reports  of  His  resurrection,  would  be  carried  back 
by  wandering  Jews  into  '  every  nation  under 
heaven.' 

i.  One  colony  of  the  Diasiwra  possesses  a  special 
importance  in  connexion  with  Christianity.  Among 
the  Alexandrian  Jews  originated  the  Greek  trans- 
lation of  the  OT — the  version  used  by  our  Lor<l, 
the  Apostles,  and  the  gi'eat  majority  of  the  early 
'huirli.  It  remained  in  almost  complete  supre- 
11  ie\  among  Christians  until  it  was  superseded  by 
tiie\uleate.  See  art.  Septuagint.  The  import- 
tnee  of  Alexandria  in  connexion  with  the  Fourth 
Gospel  would  be  enormous  if  the  contention  of  some 


DITCH 


DIVINITY  OF  CHRIST 


writers  were  true,  that  St.  John  derived  liis  doc- 
trine of  the  Logos  from  Alexandrian  philosophy. 
Tlie  doctrine,  liowever,  has  affinities  rather  witli 
Jewish  than  with  Alexandrian  thought.  Tlie  most 
that  can  be  said  is  that  St.  John  may  have  em- 
ployed the  term  because  it  already  had  a  wide 
currency  among  both  Jews  and  Greeks  (see  West- 
cott,  Gospel  of  S(.  John,  pp.  xv-xviii,  and  art. 
'  Logos '  in  Hastings'  DB). 

Literature. — Besides  the  authorities  cited  in  the  article.  Bee 
artt.  'Diaspora'  in  Hastings'  DB  (Extra  Vol.),  'Dispersion'  in 
Encyc.  Bibl.  (with  the  literature  there),  and  in  Smith's  DB. 
Much  illustrative  matter  may  be  gathered  from  Jewish  his- 
tories, especially  Schurer,  HJP.  See  also  E.  R.  Bevan,  The 
House  ofSeleiicm ;  J.  P.  Mahaffy,  The  Empire  of  the  Ptolemies. 
A.  H.  M'Neile. 

DITCH  {^60vvoi,  Mt  15",  Lk  6™ ;  rendered  '  pit ' 
Mt  12"). — The  parabolic  language  of  our  Lord  in 
the  first  two  parallel  pas.sages  is  suggested  by  the 
frequency  of  danger  from  unguarded  wells,  quarries, 
and  holes.  Into  these  the  blind  easily  fell ;  and 
the  risk  increased  if  the  leader  of  the  blind  were 
him.self  blind.  Tlie  metaphor  has  been  interpreted 
as  referring  to  Gehenna :  more  probably  it  refers 
simply  to  danger  of  hurt,  or  even  ruin,  from  wilful 
or  careless  perversion  of  the  truth  leading  to  moral 
wandering  and  fall.  For  the  idea,  of.  Pr  19" 
'  Cease,  my  son,  to  hear  the  instruction  that  causeth 
to  err,'  and  St.  Paul's  taunt  of  the  Jew  as  '  a  guide 
of  the  blind '  (Ro  2").  R.  Macpheeson. 

DIVES. — The  Latin  adjective  for   'rich,'  com- 
monly employed  as  a  j^easi-proper  name  for  the 
rich  man  in  our  Lord's  parable  of  the  Rich  Man 
and  Lazarus  (Lk  W--^).     This  use  of  the  word 
Dives,   derived,  no  doubt,   from   the  Vulgate,  is 
common  in  English  literature,  and  can  be  traced 
back  at  least  to  the  time  of  Chaucer,  who,  in  The 
Somnour's  Tale,  lines  169,  170,  says : 
'  Lazar  and  Dives  liveden  diversly, 
And  divers  guerdon  hadden  they  ther-by.' 
Compare  also  Piers  the  Plowman,  passus  xvi.  lines 
303,  304 : 
'  And  Dives  in  his  dcyntes  lyuede  •  and  in  douce  uye  ; 

And  now  he  buyeth  hit  ful  bitere  •  he  is  a  beggere  of  helle.' 

Although  we  are  not  concerned  in  this  article 
with  the  interpretation  of  the  parable  as  a  whole, 
we  may  yet  appropriately  refer  to  the  various 
opinions  which  have  been  held  as  to  who  was  in- 
tended by  our  Lord  under  the  figure  of  the  rich 
man. 

The  noticeable  circumstances  that  in  this  alone 
of  all  His  parables  our  Lord  names  one  of  the 
characters,  i.e.  Lazarus,  while  the  other  chief  char- 
acter, the  rich  man,  is  significantly  nameless,  and 
that  the  parable  has  no  prefatory  introduction, 
such  as  '  He  spake  another  parable,'  or  the  like, 
have  given  rise  to  the  conjecture  that  this  is  not  a 
parable  pure  and  simple,  but  that  it  is  either  a 
narrative  of  facts,  or  that  persons  more  or  less 
known  are  alluded  to  in  the  story. 

1.  Some,  as  Tertullian  and  Schleiermacher,  have 
supposed  that  in  Dives  allusion  was  made  to  Herod 
Antipas,  and  that  Lazarus  represents  John  the 
Baptist,  who  is  refeiTcd  to  in  v.'*,  cf.  also  v."*, 
where  our  Lord  speaks  about  adulterj'.  This, 
however,  is  surely  an  extravagant  notion  which 
scarcely  needs  refutation. 

2.  Another  equally  improbable  suggestion,  put 
forward  by  Michaelis,  is  that  Dives  represents 
Caiaphas,  son-in-law  of  Annas,  and  that  Lazarus 
is  Christ ;  and  so  the  five  brethren  of  the  rich  man 
are  explained  as  the  five  sons  of  Annas  (Jos.  Ant. 
XX.  ix.  1). 

3.  Closely  connected  with  this  opinion  is  another 
which  lius  the  support  of  Ambrose,  Anuustiuf, 
Teelman  (quoted  by  Trench,  Parahlcs).  and  olhers, 
according  to  which,  wliile  Lazarus  is  Christ,  Dives 
is  the  Jewish  people  who  despised  and  rejected 


Him  wlio  for  their  sakes  was  poor  and  afflicted. 
Tliis,  ImwcNcr,  is  an  allegorizing  of  the  parable 
which,  though  attractive  at  first  sight,  will  not 
bear  close  examination. 

4.  Another  interpretation,  supported  by  Aph- 
raates,  Augustine  (as  an  alternative),  Gregory  the 
Great,  and  Theophylact,  and  widely  held  in  all 
sections  of  the  Universal  Chui-eh,  is,  that  Dives 
represents,  as  in  the  last  case,  the  Jewish  jjcople, 
but  that  Lazarus  represents  the  Gentiles.  Rleek, 
Godet,  and  Alford  reject  this  view,  the  two  latter 
saying  that  the  very  name  Lazarus  (i.e.  a  Jewish 


e)  is  against  it.     Yet,  though  not  the  primai-y, 
_""      ■         "    "     -     able,:     ■ 
not  lightly  to  be  set  aside. 


this  may  be  a  true  application  of  the  para 


and 


5.  According  to  a  tradition  alluded  to  by  Theo- 
phylact and  Euthymius  Zigabenus,  Dives  and 
Lazarus  were  actual  persons  known  at  the  tune, 
and  our  Lord,  while  honouring  the  poor  man  by 
naming  him,  passes  over  the  guilty  rich  man's 
name  in  merciful  silence. 

6.  The  interpretation  which  best  suits  all  the 
facts  of  the  case  is  that  the  rich  man  is  a  tyjncal 
instance  of  the  religious  leaders  of  the  people, 
Pharisees  and  Sadducees,  and  tiiat  Lazarus  is  a 
reijresentative  of  the  despised  publicans,  or  of  the 
neglected  'common  people.'  If  this  is  the  ])rimary 
significance  of  Dives  and  Lazarus,  tlirn  \\u  (■.■ni  sec, 
as  stated  above,  that  interpretjition  1  i^  nnl,  li'^litly 
to  be  set  aside;  for  if  Pharisees  :iuil  SMilcliicues 
despised  and  neglected  those  of  their  u\\  n  nation, 
much  more  would  they  contemptuously  overlook 
'  sinners  of  the  Gentiles. '  Under  this  head  it  has 
been  debated  whether  Dives  is  a  typical  Pliarisee 
or  a  Sadducee.  Didon  (Life  of  Christ),  Moslieim, 
and  Wetstein  hold  that  he  is  a  Sadducee,  since 
the  Pharisees  were  not  characterized  by  luxurious 
living  or  by  unbelief  ;  but  if,  with  the  majority  of 
expositors,  who  say  that  the  connexion  of  the 
parable  \\ith  wh:i(  precedes  requires  it,  we  hold 
him  to  !"■  II  riiaii^ee,  he  is  at  least  a  Pharisee 
who,  as  Slier  says,  •  lives  as  a  Sadducee.' 

As  to  the  special  sin  of  Dives,  opinions  have 
ditt'ered.  All,  however,  concur  in  pointing  out 
that  he  is  not  accused  of  any  positive  crime, — his 
sin  is  negative.  It  may  be,  indeed,  that  our  Lord 
in  the  parable  glances  back  at  what  is  said  in 
yy_u-i6 .  yg(;  Dlvcs'  clilef  slu  most  evidently  was 
that  he  left  undone  the  things  which  he  ouglit  to 
have  done.  He  is  an  instance,  in  fact,  of  one  who 
did  not  make  to  himself  friends  of  the  nuimmon 
of  unrighteousness.  Doubtless  the  cause  of  this 
was  his  virtual  unbelief  in  a  kingdom  of  God  here 
implying  a  brotherhood  of  all  men,  and  a  kingdom 
of  God  hereafter  implying  a  retribution. 


Euthymius  says  that  i 


asserted   that,  according  to 


Tid  Tisl 


idorf 


Version  adds  to  the  mention  of  the 
wasNineue.'  It  has,  however,  been 
Expositor,  March  1900)  that  this  nai 
from  the  words  'hie  dives,'  or  *en  ci 
ancient  piolori.il  representation  of  th 
liowL'Vcr,  has  thought  that  the  word 


Eleazar,  an  attempt  has  been  made  to  suggest  that  the  jioi 
man  .  .  .  was  the  rich  man's  own  father.'    See  art.  Lazari's. 

Albeet  Bonus. 
DIVINITY  OF  CHRIST.— 


2.  The  movement '  Back  to  Christ.' 

3.  Certain  results  of  the  movement. 
Sases  of  Christological  belief. 

1.  I'l-iniarily  a  new  exi^erieiicG. 


[lis  self-consciousiicss :  («)  Ilis  interior  h 
(,i)Hi3  method  in  teaching,  (y)  Uis  sinle: 
ness,  0>)  His  oneness  with  Uod. 


DrV^IOTTY  OF  CHRIST 


DIVINITY  OF  CHRIST 


[c)  His  appeal  to  deeper  personality. 

[d)  His  teaching  and  works. 


3.  Validity  of  the  experience. 
HI.  Beginnings  of  the  doctrine  of  Christ's  Person  in  the  NT. 

1.  General  character  of  the  doctrine. 

2.  Divine  names  applied  to  Christ. 

3.  Divine  properties  and  acts  attributed  to  Christ. 

4.  Divine  relations  as  to  God,  man,  the  world. 
IV.  Subsefiuent  development  of  NT  ideas. 

1.  Historj-  of  the  doctrine. 

(a)  Patristic. 
(6)  Media)val. 
(c)  Modern. 

2.  Denial  of  the  doctrine. 

(o)  Its  history  and  motive. 

(b)  Its  failure. 


I.  Preliminary  Considerations.— 1.  The  myx- 
tery  of  Christ. — The  historic  question  of  Jesus  to 
His  disciples,  '  Who  do  men  say  that  I  the  Son  of 
Man  am  ? '  (Mt  16'^  Mk  S^',  Lk  9''),  was  put  not  to 
confound,  but  to  reveal,  by  awakening  the  desire 
for  knowledge.  The  intelligent  answer  to  the 
question  preserves  the  precious  truth,  which  is 
nothing  less  tlian  God's  age-long  secret  about  Him- 
self. The  di-sciples  had  been  nurtured  on  a  religi- 
ous literature  in  which  the  whole  national  and 
individual  future  was  seen  blending  in  one  antici 


there  is  given  to  Him  dominion  and  glory  and  a 
kingdom  which  shall  not  pass  away.  This  was 
the  figure  in  which  the  Jewish  imagination  clothed 
the  Jewish  hope.  Modem  criticism  dwells  upon 
the  factors  in  history  which  determined  the  form 
in  which  tliis  hope  took  shape.  The  Hebrew 
religion,  we  are  assured,  was  wrought  out  under 
constant  pressure  of  disa-ster.  It  was  the  religion 
of  a  proud,  brave  people,  who  were  constantly  held 
in  suDJection  to  foreign  conquerors.  Hence  came 
a  quality  of  intense  hostility  to  those  tyrannous 
foes,  and  also  a  constant  appeal  to  the  Divine 
Power  to  declare  itself.  The  hostility  and  the 
appeal  inspire  the  Messianic  Hope.  Wa-s  there 
notliing  more  ?  Surely  behind  the  history  and  the 
imagination  lay  elemental  forces  of  the  soul. 
What  lend  essential  and  abiding  worth  both  to 
the  Hebrew  hostility  to  Gentile  oppression  and 
the  Hebrew  appeal  to  Jehovah's  righteous  right 
hand  are  a  faith  and  a  passion  which,  if  quickened 
into  power  by  the  vicissitudes  of  history,  were 
themselves  underived  from  history,  and  native  to 
tlie  spirit  of  the  nation.  Nor  in  tliis  high  convic- 
tion do  the  Hebrews  stand  alone.  Everywhere, 
wherever  thouL'lit  lias  advanced  sufficiently  near 
its  Object,  it  has  come  to  a  yearning,  at  times 
poignant,  for  closer  contact.  Tlie  numerous  idola- 
tries of  the  lower  religions  are  .simply  the  objec- 
tivation  of  this  desire.  The  no  less  numerous 
conceptions  of  Di^^nity  in  more  cultured  peoples 
are  due  to  flic  same  stros^.  Tliore  has  been  a 
cc:isrli'~>  Ji'iiiaihl  (if  till'  ImiM.iii  r.irc  fciran  embodi- 
nii-nt  of  liriiy.  'rill-  ilriii.iii.l  i,  -A.  product  of  the 
huiipry  liunmn  licivt  for  il(»cr  tomnumion  -tt-ith 
God  and  larger  loyalty  to  Him. 

The  existence  of  an  instinct  so  universal  is  the 
gruarantee  of  its  fulfilment.  The  two  considera- 
tions, that  the  Hebrew  race  had  worked  out  tlie 
conception  of  the  Messiah,  and  that  the  ethnic 
peoples  were  quite  familiar  with  Divine  inc^irna- 
tions,  processes  both  present  admittedly'  to  the 
mind  of  the  Early  Church,  furnish  no  evidence  to 
the  contrary.  In  themselves  they  prove  nothing 
against  a  true  Incarnation  historically  manifested, 
if  it  can  lie  shown  that  its  historical  manifestation 
is  not  wholly  traceable  to  naturalistic  origins  in 
the  Hebrew  'and  ethnic  genius.  The  i)resenfe,  in 
particular,  of  many  myths  parallel  to  the  Christian 
story  need  not  mean  that  the  Christian  story  is 
itself  a  myth.  As  has  been  well  said,  '  If  "the 
Christian  God  really  made  the  human  race,  would 


not  the  human  race  tend  to  rumours  and  perver- 
sions of  tlie  Christian  God  ?  If  the  centre  of  our 
life  is  a  certain  fact,  would  not  people  far  from  the 
centre  have  a  muddled  version  of  the  fact  ?  If  we 
are  so  made  that  a  Son  of  God  must  deliver  u.s,  is 
it  odd  that  Patagonians  (and  others)  should  dream 
of  a  Son  of  God  ? '  (Chesterton,  Beligious  Doubts  of 
Democracy,  p.  18).  False  beliefs  live  by  the  true 
elements  witliin  them.  A  persistent  belief  occur- 
ring in  many  false  forms  is  likely  to  be  true,  and 
may  reasonably  be  expected  to  occur  in  a  true 
form.  Each  redeemer  of  heathenism  is  a  prophetic 
anticipation  of  the  satisfying  of  human  desires  in 
Jesus  Christ,  precisely  as  the  Messianic  disclosures 
of  the  OT  were  to  the  people  of  whom  according 
to  the  flesh  He  came.  Tliey  are  anticipations 
only :  since  neither  the  pagan  foregleams  nor  the 
Hebrew  forecasts  offered  sufficient  data  for  a 
complete  or  consistent  delineation  of  an  actual 
Person.*  The  earlier  experiences  of  men  made  the 
gospel  intelligil)le,  but  they  had  no  power  to  pro- 
duce it.  It  satisfies  and  crowns  them,  but  does 
not  grow  out  of  them.  The  Person,  when  He  came, 
did  more  than  satisfy  the  old  instinct  by  which 
men  had  hope.  He  reinforced  and  extended  it : 
His  advent  not  only  accomplished  the  past  pro- 
mise, it  gave  earnest  of  greater  things  to  come : 
He  thus  represented  human  ideals  indeed,  but  still 
more  Divine  ideas.  The  highest  prophecies  of  His 
appearance  reveal,  amid  the  circumstantial  details, 
the  element  of  mystery ;  that  mystery  is  not 
eliminated  when  the  Life  a^ipears.  It  is  the  sin- 
gular significance  of  Jesus  Christ  that  both  in  the 
anticipations  of  Hira  and  in  His  actual  appearance 
the  details  always  lead  on  to  inquiry  as  to  what  is 
not  detailed,  the  facts  to  something  beyond  them- 
selves ;  the  Man  and  His  words  and  works  to  the 
question  Who  is  He  ?  and  Whence  is  this  Man  ? 

2.  The  movement  'Back  to  Christ.' — The  question 
is  prominently  before  the  present  age.  The  modern 
mind  asks  it  with  revivea  interest.  Modern  know- 
ledge in  its  several  departments  of  philosophy, 
history,  science,  has  developed  along  lines  and  m 
obedience  to  principles  which  appear  able  to  dis- 
pense with  the  old  theistic  axioms.  God  and 
Conscience  are  not  so  vividly  active.  And  yet,  on 
the  other  hand,  the  ancient  instinct  of  the  race  for 
communion  with  God  is  assertive  as  ever.  It  turns 
for  comfort  almost  exclusively  to  the  Christian 
tradition.  The  Christian  tradition,  however,  it  is 
convinced,  needs  revision ;  and  here  the  central 
necessity  is  the  treatment  and  true  understanding 
of  the  Person  of  Christ.  The  cry  is  'Back  to 
Christ.'  It  is  a  cry  dear  to  all  who  desire  a  simpler 
gospel  than  that  set  forth  in  the  Creeds ;  all  who 
are  wearied  with  speculation  on  the  elements  of 
Christian  truth,  or  are  distraught  Avith  the  variety 
of  interpretation  offered  of  it ;  all  who  are  eager  to 
embrace  the  ethics  and  as  eager  to  abjure  what 
they  term  the  metaphysics  of  the  Christian  system. 
The  movement  referred  to  is  natural ;  and  its 
plea  so  plausible  as  to  merit  attention.  The  aim 
is  nothing  short  of  recovering  the  image  of  the 
original  Founder  of  the  Faith,  expressed  in  His 
authentic  words  and  acts  ;  to  bring  back  in  all  the 
distinct  lineaments  of  a  living  Personality  the 
great  Teacher  whom  we  now  see  in  the  Gospels 
'  as  through  a  glass  darkly.'  It  seeks  by  a  study 
of  the  original  records  in  the  light  of  all  the 
historical  and  critical  aids  now  open  to  us,  an<l 
guided  by  the  modern  idea  of  evolution,  not  only 
to  })ring  us  face  to  face  with  Jesus  of  Nazareth,  to 
listen  to  His  direct  words  of  wisdom,  but  to  trace 
all  the  steps  of  His  spiritual  advance,  all  the  steps 
by  which  He  grew  into  the  Messiah  of  Israel  and 
the  Ideal  of  humanity,  giving  the  deepest  inter- 
pretation to  the  prophetic  dream  of  His  nation, 
•  Of.  Westcott,  Gospd  o/ Li/c,  pp.  295-297. 


DIVINITY  OF  CHRIST 


DIVINITY  OF  CHKIST 


4G9 


and  so  lifting  it  into  that  hifjher  region  in  wliich 
tlie  freely  accepted  Cross  became  the  necessary 
means  to  the  deliverance  of  man.  The  '  Jesus  of 
history,'  it  is  argued,  has  been  buried  in  the 
'Christ  of  dogma';  the  Church  in  handing  down 
the  Saviour  has  presented  Him  with  adoring  hands 
and  in  idealized  form.  The  more  we  throw  off  her 
encrustments,  the  nearer  we  get  to  the  original, 
the  nearer  we  are  getting  to  the  real  Jesus,  and,  in 
Him,  to  the  truth  of  our  religion. 

However  natural  tlie  hope  of  such  minds,  it  is 
based  on  illusion.  It  pioceeds  on  erroneous  ideas 
as  to  what  we  may  learn  from  the  past.  '  What 
has  been  done,'  says  the  adage,  'even  the  gods 
themselves  cannot  make  undone.'  All  that  his- 
torical reversions  can  do  is  to  suggest  that  in  the 
onward  movement  something  precious  has  been 
left  behind  which  it  were  well  to  recover  before 
going  further.  There  is  no  such  Christ,  no  such 
Christianity  in  the  first  century  as  is  sought  for  :  a 
Christ  and  a  Christianity  purely  invariable  and  true 
for  all  time  and  in  every  place.  That  is  a  concep- 
tion which,  the  more  it  is  studied,  the  more  it  will 
be  found  to  be  a  pure  abstraction  to  which  no  con- 
crete in  rerum  natura  corresponds.  The  absolute 
value  of  the  Christian  Faith,  the  real  stature  of  the 
Christ,  cannot  be  established  by  merely  dropping 
the  historical  surroundings  or  setting  of  the  tradi- 
tional truth.  The  old  truth  that  lived  spiritually 
in  the  minds  of  those  who  first  livin^ly  appre- 
hended it,  and  which  has  pulsated  all  through 
the  historical  process,  has  to  be  (iiu,i;h(  up  aj;:iiii, 
realized  in  its  essential  vitality,  :iii'l  fonmihacil 
anew  in  harmony  \v\t\\  the  ijiu.lrni  spiiil.  WC 
have  to  ask,  Was  the  Christian  Idm  iiiv,-ii  in  itsi'lf 
111,  al..stractly,  and  may  this,  as  the 
iiiir.  (ir  siiiii  iif  thi-'.  .ucisjiel,  be  re- 
,  ini  (III-  coiitiary,  u.is  the  Christian 
a  Life  in  a  tonipany  of  believers 
its  power  in  their  lives,  so  that  it 
to  an  invariable  essence  except 
ss  of  abstraction?    Cf.,  fui'ther. 


f  the,  movement. — The  effort 

:  '   (the   phrase  is  Dr.    Fair- 

iss  in  its  avowed  aim  than  in 

Thvimgh  them  it  yields  a 

lo;^i.ai  progress.    We  pro- 

■  Ml.  Ii  nsults:  (I)  a,  neto  idea 


apart,  m  isi 


iliiitrine  ;  (2)  the  in- 
liiiwrni  primary  and 
IV ;   CM  the  deepened 


bairn's)  is  import 

its  subsi(Uar.\-   ii- 

real  contribution 

ceed  to  indicate 

of  the  natiirc   nf  (.'lii-i.j ,,:, 

sistence  on  the   di.st.iiui n,i 

variable  elements   in  dmh 

consciousness  of  the  extiiil 

(1)  The  same  divines  who  Ii.im'  l.u.-ii.l  themselves 
in  the  search  for  the  Cluist  of  lii-ioiy  have  been 
instrumental  in  exhibitiiiL'  <  In  i,(  im 'iliought  on 
His  Person  as  «  ^cocci-.v.  Inlli.il  -[ili.  re  of  thought 
they  have  rigorously  apjilieil  tlic  iilea  of  develop- 
ment, not  indeed  for  tlie  first  time  (since  John 
Henry  Newman,  fifteen  years  before  Darwin's 
Origin  of  Species  was  published,  had  fascinated 
their  fathers  by  his  use  of  the  idea),  but  with  a 
more  thorough  insight  than  Newman,  and  with 
better  tests,  furnislung  in  consequence  widely 
ditterent  results  from  his.  They  are  enabled  to 
distinguish  between  Creed  and  Doctrine,  between 
articles  of  faith  and  the  whole  process  of  reflexion, 
even  of  a  conflicting  character,  by  which  articles  of 
faith  are  reached  and  defined.  By  them  interest 
is  transferred  from  the  result  to  the  process.  The 
forces  entering  into  the  process  are  minutely 
analyzed.  It  is  discovered  that  theology  has  a 
history  ;  that  its  history  is  mixed  up  with  general 
history  ;  that  it  has  been  mouldeii  liy  a  vast  deal 
external  to  the  subject-mat ter  of  theology;  and 
not  only  so,  but  even,  as  sonn'  (notably  Harnack) 
contend,  has  been  substanliallv  aii.l  i'n  its  inner 
modified,  if  not  puivcrtied,  iii  the  process. 


It  is  seen  tli.Tt  Christian  dogmas  were  once  in- 
choate ;  ji.-i  (i|  tlirough  many  stages  under  influ- 
ences ,o(i.il.  |ioliiieal,  intellectual;  and  that  they 
lia\  e  a  eoiisiaiil  tendency  so  to  do  in  adapting 
themselves  to  their  environment — that,  in  short, 
they  are  not  dead  formulas,  but  a  living  organism. 

(2)  The  emergence  of  so  many  factors  merely 
accidental  has  brought  into  clearer  perspective  tlic 
reality  imnuDii  »/  in  tJu;  jirvrcss.  Besides  the  soil 
and  the  inlliniK  e,  ,,ii  -lowth,  there  is  the  seed, 
the  Divine  Tiutli  on  wliicli  human  thought  and 
earthly  event  e.xeniseil  themselves.  It  is  trace- 
able to  the  teaeliing  and  life  of  Jesus  and  His 
Apostles.  Only  fragments  of  His  utterances  have 
been  preserved  to  us,  but  the  brief  discourses  and 
conversations  that  we  read  in  the  Gospels  stand 
unique  in  spiritual  power  among  the  utterances  of 
the  world.  They  represent  a  large  body  of  teach- 
ing, lost  to  us  in  form  but  jireserved  in  its  fruits  ; 
for  out  of  His  spiritual  wealth  there  poured 
throughout  His  ministry  an  abundance  of  spoken 
truth  that  remained  to  perpetuate  His  influence 
and  serve  as  the  foundation  of  Christian  doctrine. 
Togetlier  with  His  life  they  formed  and  still  form 
Truth,  not  simjily  in  a  definite  invariable  quantity, 
but  as  a  constant  fountain  and  source  of  truth, 
ever  open  and  flowing  for  them  who  believe.  He 
gave  a  new  light  on  all  things  to  men  ;  and  by  an 
inevitable  necessity  they  proceeded  to  apply,  and 
still  must  apply,  wliat  He  has  shown,  to  the  inter- 
pretation of  all  tlicy  tliought  and  knew.  Thus 
Cliristian  duelrine  bases  itielf  nltinialely  on  two 
souiees:  (-^llie  I'.-i.ls  as  to  ( 'li  li.M  V  I  ,.;m'|,  iiig  and 
lit,.;     .-111.1    (//)    III.-    f.\]H.n.-lle.'    ,i|      l..■ll.-^els    in    Him 

interpreting  life  an. I  its  prol.l.'iiis  in  tli.'  li^lit  of 
those  facts.  Cliristian  doctrine  has  grown  up  as  a 
vital  thing  in  the  soil  of  actual  life  ;  in  the  experi- 
ence of  Christian  living.  Jesus  appeared  among 
men  and  lived  and  taught.  He  gave  the  Truth  by 
what  He  was,  by  what  He  said,  by  what  He  did. 
Words,  Works,  Personality :  all  preached.  This 
rich  and  various  utterance  fell  into  the  liearing 
and  the  hearts  of  men  and  women  who  became 
His  followers.  Into  their  very  being  it  entered 
with  transforming  power,  making  them  '  new 
creatures.'  By  and  by  it  filtered  through  their 
minds  and  life,  and  expressed  itself  in  the  form 
which  their  own  experience  gave  to  it.  It  is  this 
reproduction  of  the  truth  Jesus  brought  that 
constitutes  Christian  doctrine.  Its  fundamental 
elements  are  to  be  kept  clearly  in  vie«- — viz.  the 
Christian  Facts  and  the  Experience  of  Believers. 

(3)  The  origin,  of  variation  in  doctrinal  belief 
immediately  becomes  manifest.  Believing  experi- 
ence cannot  be  expected  to  be  invariable.  Still 
less  the  expression  of  experience.  Variety  of 
views  enters.  There  are  difierences  of  mind,  of 
education,  of  disposition  and  degrees  of  sympathy, 
of  ability  to  apprebeml  .in.l  explain:  difierences 
all  of  them,  when  gi\eii  li..'  s.r,|,e,  likely  to  lead 
to  mi.xed  results.  I'res.nl  .lay  i.-liuious  thought  is 
profoundly  impressed  with  tli.'  laet,  and  with  the 
necessity  of  it.  And  if  in  consequence  the  theo- 
logical mind  is  infected  with  a  certain  sense  of 
insecurity,  there  is  compensation  in  the  new  breath 
of  freedom.  Obviously  it  is  gain  to  be  able  to 
review  the  doctrinal  process  and  results  of  the 
past,  to  disentangle  the  Divine  Truth  from  its 
temporary  formulation,  and  to  elaborate  it  anew 
in  such  wise  as  will  subserve  the  highest  interests 
of  men  to-day,  as  well  as  do  justice  to  its  own  ever 
fresh  wealth  of  content.  (Cf.  the  interesting  ex- 
position in  Dr,  Newton  Clarke's  What  shall  we 
think  of  Chri^ti,n,il,r'  I.eet,  II.). 

II.  Basks  m  ('iii.istological  belief. —1. 
Primarily  a  ii<  :'■  .  ./..  / v- i,.v .— The  new  methods 
foundearly  api.li.aii.ii,  lo  i  he  doctrine  of  Christ's 
Person.     That  ductriue  i.s  central  iu  the  Christian 


DIYIXITY  OF  CHRIST 


DIVINITY  OF  CHRIST 


system.  It  is  by  Christ,  His  Person  and  Work, 
that  salvation  is  mediated.  Historically  and  ex- 
perimentally the  Church  learned  it  so.  A  study 
of  the  NT  and  of  the  two  subsequent  centuries  is 
chieily  a  study  of  one  great  fact  or  truth,  to  the 
understanding  and  interpreting  of  which  the  mind 
and  life  of  the  period  were  devoted,  and  devoted 
with  absorbing  interest — the  Person  of  Christ. 
That  problem  soon  became  at  once  the  impulse 
and  the  starting-point  of  an  entire  science  of  God, 
of  man,  .and  of  the  essential  and  final  relation 
betw^een  God  and  man.  But  primarily  the  ques- 
tion at  issue  was  simply  that  of  His  Person.  It 
was  provoked  by  Christ's  own  questions  and  by 
His  claims.  Its  urgency  was  enhanced  by  the 
experience  of  believers.  Their  experience  was 
unprecedentedly  novel.  Unlike  that  of  Hebrew- 
faith,  its  ground  was  individual  and  personal. 

Its  origin  lay  in  the  rcvohitiormry  impression  His 
presence  created  in  the  heart,  an  impression  which 
came  as  a  thing  incomparable,  and  remained  as  the 
most  precious  fact  of  life.  It  grew  as  a  new  power 
in  the  soul  to  resist  and  overcome  sin,  assuring  not 
the  promise  only  but  the  potency  of  real  holiness, 
imparting  to  the  latent  faculties  of  the  changing 
lieart  an  increasing  plenitude  of  spiritual  force 
making  for  righteousness.  Concurrently  with  this 
feature  in  the  new  experience  went  another,  or 
two  others.  Awakened  by  the  sense  of  power  in 
the  inner  life  imparted  by  Christ,  men  came  to 
understand  what  the  evil  is  from  which  God  seeks 
to  save  them,  and  what  the  good  is  which  He 
seeks  to  impart  to  them.  In  Christ  moral  good- 
ness, the  righteousness  of  God,  laid  its  inexorable 
claims  upon  man's  life,  determining  feelings  and 
shapiiii:  ir^iilutinns  .as  does  tlie  real  entrance  of 
God  \\\{t>  our  lic.ut-.  The  impression  of  Christ  was 
thus  sri'ii  lij  A  tlir  jifiwcr  of  God.  A  further  step 
was  won  w  licu  rcllexion  forced  forward  tlie  ques- 
tion how  it  could  be  so,  in  what  mode  the  nature 
of  Christ's  Person  must  be  regarded  in  the  light  of 
the  above  experiences.  But  the  root  of  the  matter 
was  reached  when  the  fact  was  realized  that  the 
more  the  strength  of  His  character  overwhelmed 
them,  the  more  undeniable  was  made  the  reality  of 
God  to  them.  That  was  reached,  however,  at  tlie 
very  outset.  It  was  the  prinuiry  conviction  which 
entitled  to  the  name  of  believer,  and  confession  of 
it  meant  salvation.  It  formed  the  fundamental 
basis  of  Cliristological  belief.  Jesus  comes  acting 
on  human  hearts  with  winsome  gentleness,  with  a 
soul-moving  sorrow  for  sin,  and  with  a  great  en- 
abling power.  The  high  demands  He  brings  raise 
no  fear,  for  He  who  demands  approaches  with  the 
means  of  fulfilling,  which  He  is  ready  to  imi>art. 
Herein  rests  the  real  originality  of  His  message, 
by  which  His  gospel  differentiates  itself  from  all 
other  religions  on  the  one  hand,  and  from  all  merely 
philosophical  or  ethical  Idealisms  on  the  other  ;  in 
virtue  of  which  also  all  interpretations  of  His  Person 
on  humanitarian  lines  prove  inadequate.  On  this 
point  a  clear  understanding  is  indispensable.  It  is 
to  be  insisted  that  the  '  Christ  of  History '  and  the 
'Christ  of  Experience'  were  not  separ.a'ble  to  the 
mind  of  the  disciples  ;  they  were  one  and  in<li- 
visible.  Their  Christ  is  not  the  Teaching  of  .Jesus 
alone,  or  His  Works  alone ;  or  both  together 
alone,  but  both  together  along  with  what  they 
revealed  regarding  the  inner  life  of  Jesus,  and 
what  they  created  in  the  inner  life  of  believers. 
It  is  impossible  to  separate  the  last  from  the  first. 
It  is  illegitimate  to  seek  to  resolve  it  into  a  creation 
of  the  religious  idealizing  faculty  of  believers  in 
Him.  The  thought  of  tlie  Apostles  consciously 
felt  itself  engaged  not  in  evolving  dreams  ancl 
speculations  of  its  own,  but  in  striving  to  receive 
anil  appreciate  a  trutli  wliich  w.a-s  before,  above, 
independent   of   them.     By  no  single  fact  in  His 


biography  does  His  message,  in  this  view,  stand  or 
fall,  but  by  Himself  whom  the  facts  reveal ;  the 
facts  come  embedded,  and  are  vital  because  thus 
embedded,  in  one  cardinal  fact.  Himself.  He 
came  to  them  not  as  a  prophet,  although  He 
had  much  in  common  with  the  prophets ;  nor  as  a 
culture-hero,  the  ottspring  of  spiritual  imagina- 
tion ;  but  as  an  inner  force  of  life  absolutely 
unique  ;  an  inner  experience  in  which  God  entered 
into  their  hearts  in  a  manner  heretofore  unparal- 
leled, being  borne  in  on  them  rather  than  presented 
to  their  imitation,  leavening  them  practically  with 
Himself,  and  demonstratively  in  such  a  way  that 
henceforth  to  their  very  existence  in  God,  He,  the 
Revealer,  must  belong.  In  the  NT  we  move  amid 
scenes  where  the  common  has  been  broken  up  by 
vast  events.  God  from  the  Unseen  has  struck 
into  liistory  a  fresh  note,  and  a  new  era  has 
opened.  The  whole  suggestion  is  of  possibilities 
and  resources  waiting  to  be  disclosed.  (Cf.  Wernle, 
Bccfinnings  of  Christianity).  The  beginning  of 
Christianity  is  neither  a  theological  idea  nor  a 
moral  precept ;  it  is  an  experience  of  a  Fact,  the 
Fact  of  Christ,  revealing  and  imparting  the  life  of 
God. 

The  impression  Christ  made  on  those  who  saw 
and  heard  Him  is  a  solid  fact  which  no  criticism 
can  upset.  Is  it  iiossilile  to  get  behind  this  fact  ? 
The  efibrt  is  stn  niiciii-Iv  made  by  many.  What 
was  Hewhi.  iimliKdl  the  impression  reported  in 
the  Gospels  ?  Ilrtti  i  still,  What  was  He  who  pro- 
duced not  this  or  that  impression,  but  the  result- 
ant of  actual  and  permanent  impressions  which 
He  has  made  upon  the  world?  In  seeking  an 
answer,  historical  and  critical  research  has  been 
lavished  on  every  aspect  of  the  question.  Christ's 
teaching,  career,  personality,  have  been  studied  as 
never  before.  Tlie  result  is  that  He  is  better 
known  to  us  tlLin  to  .iiiv  pievifius  age.  It  is  at 
th.'  -:nM..  tiiii..  1  .in-  ill.  irri~iii;Jy  felt  that  a  natu- 
rali-ii.'  ].■.  .rii-iin.  tiiiii  (.f  ]ii>  lift'  is  not  possible. 
('.■iihiid  >in.li'iil>  >•{  th.' ;iiiti-suin-inaturalist  camps 
(..</.,  ill  hisi.iiy,  Kv\w  [.h.'.its  uj  A«ror«] ;  in  philo- 
s(>|iliv,  i;.l.  c'liiil  [KnJ.  of  MciigionJ;  in  science, 
Sir  illiv.'r  L.i.li:.'  [I/ihUit  Jovrnal,  III.  i.]  and 
I'mf.  .lames  []'(n-ii/iis  <f  lieliffiovs  Experience]) 
practically  confess  the  failure  of  past  attempts, 
and  succeed  in  evading  the  postulate  of  Divinity 
only  by  attributing  to  the  human  life  so  ample 
.a  magnificence  as  to  make  it  embrace  all  that 
Christian  tliought  understands  by  Divinity.  The 
new  rationalism  shows  how  decidedly  the  old 
materialism  has  spent  its  force.  Of  special  inte- 
rest is  its  frank  recognition  of  the  presence  and 
vitality  of  exiierienees  on  which  hitherto  natural- 
ism has  set  taboo.  The  more  the  new  criticism 
endeavours  to  re\  ivify  tlie  dead  past  and  live  over 
again  the  life  tif  the  disciples  who  enjoyed  the 
personal  communion  of  Christ,  the  more  it  sees  it 
must  combine  in  itiielf  all  the  qualifications  neces- 
sary for  seeing  and  understanding  all  that  He 
really  was.  This  conviction,  however,  involves 
the  finding  of  a  place  for  criteria  for  the  adjudging 
of  Christ,  specifically  extra-naturalistic,  but  nol 
extra-scientific,  and  spiritual ;  and  where  this 
happens  witliont  jirepnsscssion,  the  irresistible 
sense  of  Clni-t's  tran^.  .ii.li  nc.'  impresses.  His 
mystery  rcinain^  (.  f.  ',.„/,  „/,,.  ]'i  ritatis.  Essay  ii.  ; 
also  Ra-sbdall,  liintiinr  <iinl  I)<  nlopmcnt,  v.  and 
vi.). 

2.  Analysis  of  the  experience. — But  if  wc  cannot 
go  behind  the  ifact  in  the  sense  of  reaching  some- 
thing more  ultimate,  we  may  analyze  its  elements. 
It  will  be  found  in  content  to  comjirise  at  least 
four  constituents  :  His  teaching  and  works  ;  His 
growing  consciousness  of  His  own  naliiio  ;  His 
response  to  prophetic  promise ;  His  appeal  to 
deeper  personality. 


DIVINITY  OF  CHRIST 


DIVINITY  OF  CUEIST 


471 


tlii 


-;/-■  //,.v  M<: 


(a)  Of  these  tl 
conteiuiiorary  '"/' 
'That  Jesus 'is  11,1 
ideas  of  the  Gospels  Hiiil  l'4iistles.  Mori'  than  one 
recent  writer  (Martiiieau,  Meinhokl,  Wrede,  etc.) 
liave  sought  to  show  that  Jesus  did  not  accept  tlie 
title  of  Messiah ;  but  not  even  these  deny  its 
attribution  to  Him  by  the  disciples,  and  that  as 
their  main  view  of  His  Person.  Careful  analysis 
indicates  that  in  whatever  respects  the  Synop'tirs 
differ  in  their  representations, — and  tlicy  an-  not 
absolutely  harmonious,  —  they  yet  re|in'sriil  ;i, 
general  agreement  of  view,  and  set  forth  wIkM  IIm' 
prindtive  belief  was.  In  that  belief  .le  ii-  slriii^l 
forth  as  Messiah,  Himself  accepting  as  appiopi  ialr 
what  they  attribute  ;  a  sublime  ligure,  nut  niuiely 
human,  or  exalted  to  Messiahship  only  by  self- 
mastery  and  self -dedication,  Ijut  l)y  peculiar  nature 
and  special  appointment.  The  endeavour  to  reduce 
the  Evangelic  description  of  Messiah  to  human 
dimensions  is  ludicrously  inadequate  to  the  facts. 
If  it  be  the  case  that  His  disciples  '  caressed  Him 
in  the  most  familiar  manner  as  a  fellow-human 
being'  (Crooker,  NT  Views  of  Jesxis,  p.  25),  the 
statement  is  crudely  one-sided,  since  the  familiar 
fellowship  He  vouchsafed,  as  is  very  evident, 
is  but  the  framework  of  an  intimate  disillusion- 
ment on  the  part  of  His  followns,  .dm!  a  grow- 
ing revelation  on  His  part.  W''  ■;in  ii.n.'  ih.' 
stages  by  which  the  higher  iclr:;  w.i-  imioMiil  id 
them.  It  came  in  a  .series  of  ili^.ipji.iiiituH'nts, 
intended,  jirobably,  to  wean  them  from  the  popu- 
lar ideas  of  what  the  Messiah  should  be.  There 
is  first  the  death  of  the  Baptist,  the  prophet  of 
Messiah.  Then  there  is  the  refusal  to  commit 
Himself  to  the  ciilliiisiasm  (,f  those  who  would 
have  made  Him  ii  IJn^'  (.In  li-'  (j'"').  Again,  Chi'ist 
avoids  or  evades  (he  clKillin^je  to  manifest  Him- 
self to  the  world  {.In  7''').  Ijastly  came  the 
crisis,  as  it  were,  llir  oj.m  ili.illniL'.'  to  prove  His 
Messiahship  liy  .■!  -^i.jn  .in.l  Ii-lIi  imnlc  His  claim, 
a  challenge  refuseil  (Lk  --J.'''  -'.:■■).  Hand  in  hand 
with  this  progre.ssive  disillusionment  of  all  _that 
was  contrary  to  His  thought  in  current  Messianic 
ideas  went  the  progressive  revelation  of  the  true 
Messiah, — a  revelation  which  became  at  once  a 
testing  and  a  discipline  of  the  character  of  the 
disciples,  and  an  unfolding  of  undreamt  of  forces 
in  His;  so  that  at  last  they  fell  at  His  feet  and 
worshijiped,  while  others  acknowledged  Him  as 
'  Lord  and  God '  ( Jn  20='') ;  and  still  others  plaiidy 
felt  that  He  was  'ascending  to  the  Father'  (v.''j. 
That  Jesus  claimed  to  be  the  Messiah,  and  gave 
His  sanction  to  the  belief  on  the  part  of  His  dis- 
ciples is  certain*  (see  ne.xt  sect.);  no  less  certain 
(and  admitted)  is  it  that  the  disciples  believed 
Him  to  be  the  Messiah.  The  point  of  impor- 
tance for  the  present  is,  how  the  belief  origi- 
nated with  the  latter.  It  is  a  practice  anu>nL; 
many  scholars  to  reverse  the  actual  facts.  They 
argue  .as  if  the  belief  had  been  hrst  formulated 
and  officially  offered,  so  to  speak,  for  their  accept- 
ance, a  formal  external  idea  taken  up  Iht.-iusc  it 
h.ad  been  put  forth  by  Jesus  .as  a  srliemo  in  \\\nv\\ 
to  frame  His  person';  in  the  liL;lit  of  \\  hii  h  they 
are  to  regard  His  life  and  words  ;  exercising  a  pru- 
<ligious  influence  on,  and  lending  a  force  to,  His 
words  and  a  sanctity  to  His  person  beyond  that 


from  what  c 

develoj.iii. 


whirl 


r  it.  they  could  jiosMbly  have  had  (cf. 
surl,  Nvrilri.  ,■,,  M  i,.Linto,li,  y,,t.  /fist,  of  Christ. 
loin/.;  l'.Mv\  r.Av,\u,v.  ll,..l,„-,r  i;.w  of  NT,  ch. 
n.  :  ivMllIl  (';.ip,;nlrr,  Firsf  Tlnrr  <;osjjds,chs.  ii., 
iii.).  The  actual  facts  of  Glirist  s  caicer,  i.e.,  are 
conformed  in  tlie  NT  narrati\cs  to  .ilrc.uly  exist- 
ing Messianic  traditions.  And  licca\iM'  of  this  the 
accumulated  sanctities  of  the  oM  rcli'^ion  were 
l.iid  claim  to  by  the  new,  whereby  the  latter  main- 
(.lincd  i(>clf  in  face  of  the  opposition  which  it 
rH(  (lunlcrcd  .at  the  first  .and  found  a  .soil  prepared 
lor  its  reception.  The  contention  cannot  be  sus- 
tained. It  may  receive  some  countenance  from 
I  he  larcumstance  that  the  writers  of  the  NT 
nc\er  record  any  fact  or  incident  merely  as  fact 
or  incident,  but  as  jiart  of  the  substance  of  the 
gospel,  illustrating  ami  com  i-viiej  spiritual  prin- 
ciples. But  the  very  .  ,im.  ^'illi  which  the  NT 
method  of  presenting  hi.^ioric.-il  circumstance  might 
be  turned  to  account  under  the  inlluence  of  Messi- 
anic bias  becomes  valuable  evidence  against  that 
hypothesis.  For  although  the  NT  history  is  pre- 
sented with  a  bias,  i.e.  as  bearing  and  bodying 
forth  a  Person,  the  presentation,  whether  that  of 
the  Synoptics,  or  of  the  Fourth  Gospel,  or  of  St. 
Paul  and  the  others,  cannot  with  any  measure 
of  success  be  wholly  identilied  with  or  wholly 
snmme.l  up  in  that  of  the  Me.-.M;ih.  The  Messi- 
anic cl.'iinis  of  .lc>ns  ni:iy  !"■  iii.oie  (as  they  are 
iji.-i.lc)  to  rc-l  on  I  he  fai(^;  l.ul  I  In-  facts  are  not 
exliansled  in  tliosi'  cl.'iiius,  c\cn  in  the  immensely 
enrieheil  .and  original  form  in  which  Jesus  made 
them.  There  are  other  portraitures  of  Jesus  in 
the  NT  besides  that  of  Him  as  Messiah  ;  and  even 
those  writers  who  set  forth  to  piutray  Him  solely 
as  Messiah  cannot  b(^  restraineil  fr'om  hnrsting 
through  their  self-impo-cd  limits,  in  fulclity  lo 
the  facts,  and  portr.ayinj;  Him  .-is  more  than  they 
meant.  Moreover,  the  s.anie  w  riters  con\  cy  to  us 
the  explicit  assurance  th.at  tliey  have  not  appre- 
hended all  the  truth  al)out  His  Person.  Subse- 
quent theology  accepted  the  assurance,  departed 
widely  from  the  purely  Messianic  portraiture,  yet 
claimed,  and  with  perfect  ju~licc.  (h,.ii  (he  new 
departures  were  in  no  sense  new  ;i(MiiiMii^  (othe 
original  Gospel,  but  fresh  interpnaal  ion,-,  .Icsigned 
to  recover  and  vitalize  truths  di.^cernihle  in  the 
Gospels,  but  imperfectly  understood  by  the  Gospel 
writers. 

{!>)  What  h.as  been  adverted  to  finds  illuslr.ation 
in  anritlc-r  -niircn  of  t'liri>toloeic;,l  i.lcn,  fhr  self- 
enin:^':     '  .   '■    /      //;.        In    ihe    neel     iinleworthy 

di-cu     :     .   .  ,    !lM       ehici,    ih;0    oi    1 1;, Men.- perger 
{Ji„.  ,^, //,.//„  ,r„,.,,/,v.,w   ./.,;, I.  .miy  .■'hout  .,ne  half 

in  which  Jesus  reganle.l  Him.-elt  as  .M.'ssi.-ih  ;  the 
second  part  is  devoted  to  o(  her  .asj.ects  arising  out 
of  His  self-designations.  His  teachinu  as  to  the 
Kinedom,  etc.  Withal,  much  that  cannot  be  ex- 
cluile.l  from  ('hrisl.'s  seif-i  (■\el:ii  ion  is  not  even 
louchi'd  up,,n.  ,\n\-,'i.|.'.iuale  e\  p.  ,-i  I  ion  of  Christ's 
idiM,  of  His  own  n'alnre  will  iiichhie  tiie  following 
features  ;  1 1  is  I  ii  (  ctI,  .r  1  i  te,  1 1  is  niei  Ik  .d  in  teaching. 
His  moral  perlecimn,  1 1 1- .mene-.  w  ill,  the  Father. 
(a)  The  /,-//.■  .v.  cc,  /  „/'  iliri-:!'-  life  is  not  open. 
Who  can  ev.a-  kn..\v  llis  inl  inn.l  e' mind  ?  Could 
He  have  revealed  it  even  if  He  would?  We 
know  His  words  and  deeds;  \\  e  di-l  in;_ui-li  the 
forces  He  set  agoing  in  the  worlds  hr-(ery  ;  we 
venture  on  assertions  of  growth  both  of  nlea  and 
it  .iction  in  His  life  ;  but  where  was  the  source  of 
ihese?  or  what  the  process?  or  when  the  great 
choices  .and  decisive  oper,ations  of  His  marvellous 
mil''  What  were  the  supremely  triumphant  and 
npremely  lenihle  ,,ien,en(  ^  ol  'llis  life?  What 
^.,,•le  Ihe'  CM  ni  in  wliii  ii  He  '  lound  Himself? 
Ill-  nhiiunilinj  eiiei.jy  in  i  pile-  :i  lii  h  self-conscious- 
liess  ;    the    comlileli-s'l     self-consciousuess  I'csts  on 


DIVINITY  OF  CHRIST 


DIYIXITY  OF  CHRIST 


a  plenitude  of  interior  self-relationships.  That 
these  last  existed  in  Him  we  are  certain.  But 
in  what  manner  or  in  obedience  to  what  im- 
pulses, who  can  discern  ?  The  records  give  results 
not  processes,  and  just  at  those  points  where  our 
curiositj^  is  most  eager,  the  limitations  of  our  power 
to  perceive  are  most  urgent.  We  see  but  a  few 
things.  We  observe  the  self-indulgence  of  His 
own  consciousness  again  and  again.  AVe  ha\e 
glimpses  of  its  exercise  in  solitary  commimings 
Arith  God,  in  a  life  of  intercourse  with  men,  in  the 
collision  with  incident  and  event.  Above  all,  we 
know  it  in  its  great  occasions, — Baptism,  Tempta- 
tion, Discussion  -Hith  the  Doctors,  Transfiguration, 
Agony  in  the  Garden,  Resurrection,  Ascension, — 
all  of  A\  hich  are  equally  discoveries  of  His  nature 
to  Himself  and  revelations  to  His  disciples.  Be- 
cause the  meaning  of  these  events  seems  to  lie 
on  the  surface,  we  must  be  careful  not  to  give 
them  a  superficial  reception.  They  must  be  so 
received  wlien  regarded  as  parts  of  a  religious 
idea,  and  not,  as  they  are,  experiences  of  a  real 
Person.  Thej'  constitute  events  which  were  no 
mere  form  gone  through  to  proclaim  a  spiritual 
truth  to  men  or  to  certify  to  them  by  wondrous 
signs  a  new  relation  opened  for  them  with  God. 
Thev  were  not  dramatic:  they  were  as  personal 
to  I'liiu  ;i-  thi-v  aiv  iii>tnutive  for  us.  He  did 
uli.ii  II.  ai,l  InVau-.-  II,.  xwis  what  He  was— from 
:i  drrjii'i  nr..-.~iiy  tli.ui  .iny  deliberate  persuasion 
that  lli>ili-<  iplr,  ii.m.Jl-iI  this  or  that  teaehingat  this 
or  that  time.  These  events  are  far  from  summing 
up  His  inner  life.  They  are  but  flashes  out  of  a 
deep  darkness.  They  reveal  a  life  that  is  really 
human,  in  constant  communion  with  a  source  of 
sustenance  beyond  the  hmuan,  receiving  the  ful- 
ness of  that  source  and  translating  it  into  earthly 
relations,  yet  with  a  self-possession  and  self- 
knowledge,  i.e.  a  consciousness  differentiated  and 
personal.  But  the  revelation  does  not  uncover  all 
the  secrets  of  that  life,  leaving  nothing  to  elude 
or  be\nlder.  There  are  reservations  in  the  know- 
ledge given  (cf.  Dale,  Atoncmrvf.  \<\i.  4.".  47).  Ami 
these  are  not  to  be  identified  \\illi  lli.'  n. ■.  rosary 
inscrutabilities  inherent  in  all  linii.  ]■  i-on.iliiy. 
They  are  the  intimations  of  a  .L;lniy  in  lli>  nature 
\vl]i(h  -r|.,iiaii'^  it  from  all  common  natures,  ^ii;ns 
that  ill  lliiii  iliiir  are  abysses  of  impenetrable 
slilin.ii.nr  iiiin  n'.  lie  h  finite  natures  may  not  enter, 
huwi-vcr  (III-. -In   iln'v  may  touch. 

(fi)  Clirisfs  'mcf/iod  in  tcac/n„>,  ^^a>  <  li.nartcr 
istic.  He  taught  neither  as  tin  nil,,-  i\|t  7  i. 
nor  as  a  prophet  (Mt  11").  Ami  iln-  l.r.ni-r  ,,t 
His  own  nature  and  the  natuiv  ,.|  His  nir-^ayc. 
Ill'  rami'  not  as  a  teaclier ;  compelling  assent  by 

ill i|il.te  answer  to  every  difficulty,  silencing 

.li-|iiiti'  with  argument.s.  He  was  more  personal 
and  ^piritual.  His  teaching  did  not  profess  to 
oiler  an  absolute  intellectual  proof  of  itself  which 
must  convince  all  sufficiently  intelligent  persons. 
It  claimed  the  belief  of  all  men,  but  not  on  the 
ground  of  its  incontrovertible  evidence ;  on  tlie 
ground  rather  that  all  men  were  created  to  be 
good,  and  to  know  the  truth,  and  would  know  it 
if  their  iicrceptions  were  not  dulleil  and  distorted 
by  sin.  It  cDnvinccd  only  by  a  process  which  at 
the  saini-  tiiiii-  ]iiirilied.  He  made  His  message 
not  an  ar^iiiiniil  Imt  a  force. 

IK-nii-  Hi-  111. til. m1  was  both  declarative  and 
suggcsliv..:  I... Ill  tli,.tii;lit  an. I  in.-..iiliM.  to  fmtlier 
thoui^lit.  At  tini.-s  II, ■  is  ,|,.:i,  aii.l  aiillii. illative; 
His«or,i-;ircsn.-li  that  nn-n  iiia>  i.lii-,-  lli,-i,ibut 
cannot  inistaki-  tliciii.  At  olli,  r  tiiii.-  II.'  -Iiiuuds 
His  doctrine  in  parables,  and,  ]iointinj:  to  ],riin  i]ilcs, 
leaves  them  to  work  and  unfold  tlii-ir  inir|,urt  as 
men  are  found  ready  to  receive  them.  This  was 
so.  because  the  teaching  Avas  not  simply  of  I  nit  lis 
but  Truth,  infinite,  inalienable,  iiniierish.'iblc  ;  the 


fulfilment  of  all  partial  truths.  His  '  Verily  I  say' 
asserts  His  belief  that  it  was  so.  The  '  mind  of 
Christ'  which  the  teaching  ofiers  is  not  mere 
neutrality  but  sovd,  personalitj' — back  to  which 
the  teaching  goes  for  justification.  He  appeals  to 
no  higher  sanction  than  Himself.  For  Himself  also 
He  assumes  a  right  to  revise  the  law  of  Moses 
(Mt  5-'),  and  claims  authority  over  every  indi- 
vidual soul  (Mt  19^).  For  this  reason  it  is  futile 
to  found  an  argument  against  the  final  and  the 
revealed  character  of  His  message  on  its  frag- 
mentariness  or  its  want  of  originality,  futile  also 
to  limit  His  teaching  to  any  detached  portion  of 
its  recorded  whole,  e.if.  the  Sermon  on  the  Jlount. 
The  fragments  are  numerous  enough  to  enable 
us  with  ease  to  trace  His  mind.  They  form  a 
unity  which  is  not  a  new  edition  simply  of  any- 
thing preceding.  That  some  of  His  thoughts  and 
precepts  were  anticipated  by  Jewish  and  ethnic 
men  of  wisdom  does  not  detract  from  His  origin- 
ality (see  art.  ORIGINALITY),  because  that  consists, 
not  in  isolated  truths,  but  in  the  remarkable  sum 
of  truth  in  which  they  take  tlieir  appropriate  and 
articulate  place.  That  doctrine  again  explains  the 
precepts  of  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount  more  fully 
than  the  Sermon  sums  up  the  doctrine.  The 
method  of  Christ  challenges  reflexion  and  suggests 
as  origin  of  His  teaching  His  own  statement '  from 
God'lMt  11-7,  Jn?'"). 

(7)  What  is  meant  bj'  the  moral  perfection  of 
Christ  is  at  times  misconceived,  yet  embodies  a 
difference  in  His  nature  as  compared  Mith  ordinary 
men  that  is  perfectly  realizable.  Ullmann  in  a 
treatise  of  great  power  has  made  it  familiar  under 
the  term  '  sinlessness '  {Sinless7icss  of  Jesus,  T.  &  T. 
Clark).  The  term  has  been  objected  to  as  a  nega- 
tive conception,  the  negative  absence  of  evil,  a 
negative  difficult  to  prove  from  the  limited  induc- 
tion available  in  a  life  of  a  few  years.  To  give 
tlie  conception  a  concrete  expression  may  be  im- 
possilile  ;  but  the  term  is  of  value  as  pointing  to 
the  stainless  purity  of  Christ.  His  moral  self- 
wit  11, '->  is  in  the  highest  degree  positive.*  It 
iiiil.lii's  not  simply  the  consciousness  of  flawless 
,  .111. Ill,  t,  but  the  consciousness  of  perfect  character 
as  will  as  the  assurance  of  power  to  create  in 
others  jierfect  character.  Man  may  fail  to  meet 
his  moral  obligation  in  three  ways :  by  falling 
short  of  his  ideal  of  duty,  by  forming  lower  ideals 
than  he  ought,  by  direct  transgression.  And  the 
witinss  (it  the  ordinary  conscience  is  that  man 
has  faih'il  in  all  three,  and  has  reason  to  fear 
(  hill,  i'lie  jieculiarity  of  Christ's  moral  life  is  that 
all  susjiii'ion  of  this  is  wholly  absent.  He  never 
confesses  sin.  He  never  fears  any  consequences 
of  His  acts  either  from  God  or  from  men.  He 
seeks  forgiveness,  but  onlj-  for  others.  He  dreads 
sin,  but  not  for  Himself.  He  claims  to  be  apart 
from  it.  He  gives  the  impression  of  breath- 
ing an  atmosphere  in  which  sin  cannot  be.  He 
is  possessed  with,  a  holy  energy,  constant  and 
powerful.  Yet  His  moral  life  finds  exercise  npt 
in  abstracts  but  within  conditions  of  earthly  ex- 
istence. He  fought  His  way  through  those  ex- 
periences which  make  goodness  diffieiilt.  For  this 
reason  His  goodness  is  both  provable  and  imitable. 
The  crux  of  the  proof  must  rest  less  in  special 
pleading  for  particulars  of  conduct  than  in  a 
central  view  of  His  moral  personality.  Particulars 
have  been  contested.  He  has  been  charged  with 
harshness  to  His  mother  (Jn  2*) ;  with  petulance 


•  Til,' 


MMiv  rMe'it  tho 


frnort?    The: 


word  of 
F.ncyc. 
(  Origin 


DIVINITY  OF  CHEIST 


DIVINITY  OF  CHRIST 


(Lk  2-'");  with  liru-,,,,,.  ,■,.„ 
discourtesy  and  i"i,,iin,il  lii 
with  violation  of  |.ii.|iniy  li 
with  underrating  l.nnilx  .In 
10",  Lk  14=15- ^i^)  ;  with  .lelecti 
theories  as  to  civic  virtue, 


n,,.!    (Mt    7''):    with 

,ts(Mk  :.'•  II--"-'"'); 
-  and  .■iir.vlK.n  (Mt 
i  and  inipnictitable 
vealth,  almsgiving, 
non-resistance,  etc.  (For  these  and  others  cf.  such 
writers  as  Voysey,  Dole,  I'hilip  Sidney,  Goldwin 
Smith;  an<l  tliu  tL-ndciny  nf  younger  Unitarians). 
Charges  on  |i:iri  ii  ul.n  -  <.iiiiiot  be  met  except  in 
the  light  ol  I  hai.u  in.  lUr  aljove  are  all  defen- 
sible consistent ly  \\itli  tlic  iliaracter  of  Jesus  as 
that  character  appears  in  the  record.  Nor  need 
we  resort  to  the  jdea  (Martineau)  that  the  blemishes 
are  due  to  the  fault  of  the  delineators.  Christ's 
moral  nature  is  a  unity.  It  is  a  unity  in  virtue  of 
that  principle  by  which  He  knew  Himself  to  Iw 
always  doing  the  will  of  God.  lie  kinw  llim-.lt 
to  be  in  the  activity  of  .spirit  and  will  nU-.a  (hhI 
in  nature  t;avp  Him  to  liccomi'.  In  llii-  roiint 
He  felt  linns,. If  .olii;,iv  .-niK.nv  ii,.-ii,  .-md  acted 
on  the  feeliiit;.  Ili-  |„ihMi  i,,ii  tliu>  r,,iisi-ts,  llrst, 
not  in  any  <oiii|d.hiii-.^  of  |.ii-(ipt.s  -i\i-ii  or  icm- 
Crete  relations  sustained  in  conduct — these  How 
from  it ;  but  in  the  possession  of  that  s])irit  and 
of  those  principles  wliich  not  only  supply  all  due 
regulation  as  occasion  lecjuires,  but  gi-\e  unity, 
consistenev,  .an.l  puiilv  to  tin-  moral  life.     In  (he 

light   of    tin,,    eoll-idelaliull     «e    ;il.j,le    lor    His    e,,ll- 

stant  maiiili'iiaiiee  ..i  moial  ,-n]iieiMar\  ill  |,,arli<ul.ar 
acts.  His  iiioi-al  eoiiM-ioiiMi,..-.  ]ii-nei)ated  all  His 
thought  and  feeling,  and  all  c.\]>ressiuns  of  both. 
It  was  the  secret,  further,  of  His  power  over  sin, 
both  in  the  world  (cosmic)  and  in  man  :  His  power 
*  to  overthrow  sin '  and  'to  forgive  sins.'  He  did 
not  disregard  sin.  He  inherited  the  teathiiiL;  of 
His  race  as  to  sin,  a  ti'aeliin;j  .  Iiar.iri,  i  i^tieally 
striking  and  comprelieiisi\c.  lie  apinoj.!  ial.^s  all 
its  truth,  and  develops  it  in  His  own  original 
spirit.  He  did  this  just  because  He  was  so  pure. 
Sin  was  the  liaunting  dread  of  His  days.  In 
meeting  its  m.align  force  and  subduing  it.  He  broke 
His  life.  Against  it  He  [rat  forth  allHis  strength, 
and  in  so  doing  rose  to  the  fulness  of  stature  Me 
know,  'being  raised  up  by  God  to  his  right  hand.' 
More  by  what  He  did  against  sin  than  by  what 
He  declared  of  sin  or  of  His  own  goodness  did  He 
prove  His  sinlcssiiiss.  He  diil  what  He  was.  His 
irresence  raised  the  ili-iipl.',-,  ,is  His  story  raises  us, 
to  a  level  which,  like  Him,  knows  no  sin  (1  Jii 
3r,.6.!),_ 

(5)  His  equalitij  with  God*  connects  itself  chiefly 
(in  the  Synoptics)  with  the  thought  of  His  sinless- 
ness  and  His  power  to  forgive  sins  (Mt  9'-",  Mk  2'", 
Lk  S-"-  =».  Less  unquestioned  is  Mt  28",  where  He 
includes  Himself  in  the  unity  of  the  Divine  name). 
St.  John's  Gospel  is  full  of  the  idea  (5"'-  &>^-'-<'^ 
8-<2.M925f.  109  1P=  14'-«-»  l.y--).   ami  to  this  point 

attacks    have   in    c  oMse.|Ue)ice     bren     (lileeteil    with 

vigour    (cf.    in    jiarticidai-     Man  m.-aus     Si'n/     of 

Authority,  and  for  an  enreli\e  |r|oilldel-,  l-'oirestV 
Christ  of  Jlht„n,.nrl   /■;.,-""-,  'I, erl.    |.). 

(«)   As    ,en,a,:„:l.|.    :,     l..l -    any    i„    the   spell 

Christ    lal'i     ..■!      I     ■■     ,;      .  .1;       I       I,     ■  1 II       Hi-,    ,ll,l,l',ll    lu 

the  df,,.       ,,  ,         ,  ,,  „„,.     TlieH.   h.av,. 

been  tho  .    v\ ],i  ■■  -  t  .         na'd   lo  b.wer  for  the 

time    liein-     Ihe     \llaJil\'    and     inlelli'jelic-e    of    (lio-e 

who  came  into  conlael  'w  |(  li  i  Inaii,  .and  so  ai-led  a> 
to  destroy  tbeii-  self-|io;,.es,-,i,,n.  Some  nnai  o\-elaue 
and  p:iralyze  others  who  come  within  the  held  of 
their  inlluence.  The  power  of  Christ  acted  con- 
trariwise. It  empowered.  He  revealed  men  to 
themselves  in  revealing  Himself  to  their  inner 
sense.  In  receiving  Him  into  their  hearts  new 
powers  therein  arose,  reserv  joiv,.  -bowed  them- 
selves; His  influences. -IS  iliai  oi   i.a.on  begetting 

*  See  below  under  'Divine  clLsi-inl ions,'  •  ,So„  „(  Man:  'Sail 
0/  God.' 


reason,  love  begetting  love.  In  fellowship  with 
Him  men  came  to  higher  ideals.  From  Him,  in 
fact,  mankind  has  learned  to  know  itself  as  it 
ouglit  to  be,  and  to  estimate  its  own  best  possi- 
liilities.  He  has  lifted  up  human  aspiration  more 
than  any  other.  The  reason  of  this  may  be  found 
in  the  fact  that  He  appealed  persuasively  to  human 
instinct.  To  appeal  to  such  instinct  is  often  to 
create  it.  When  a  child  is  told  a  story  of  heroism, 
when  rough  untaught  natures  are  softened  by  the 
beauty  of  tenderness  seen  or  pictured,  there  is  a 
creation  of  courage  or  gentleness  where  it  was  not 
before.  AVlien  tin'  instinct  is  <|uickeiied  we  know 
that  if  is  n.ali\e.  The  moxcindit  Christ  initiated 
hasiir..\e.l.,f  nnii\.illed  c  reatn  eiie.ss  in  the  history 
of  bnniaii  iii>f  im  I  and  in  every  direction  of  human 
acti\iiy.      -'i'lie  i.le;i  of  Jcsus  is  tlic  illuminatlon 

and    ins].ir,iii if    existence'   (Phillips    Brooks, 

whose  JJn/,/,  ,1  l..<t,ircs,  1879,  are  an  eloquent  ex- 
position of  Christ's  creative  influence,  in  moral, 
social,  intellectual,  emotional  life).  The  first  per- 
ception of  this  fact  glows  through  the  NT  writings  : 
not  one  of  the  writers  fails  to  make  us  understand 
that  the  One  he  writes  about  is  One  who  has 
opened  new  powers  in,  ami  discbiseil  new  horizons 
to,  his  own  soul.  This  is  lb.  ii  «  it ncss— a  witness 
corroborated  by  ever\  snec . c,!!]!;;  age — that  He 
calledUiein,  amlincomn.nni.a,  uiib  Him,  He  made 
them  'a  new  ereati-.n/  dis,  i|,lnini^  and  elex.ating 
cbaia.ter,  c.alliimoni  a    lio.lier   tailli.  <a  .-a  I  iny  pro- 


things  of  God  in  a  wide  perspective  impossible  to 
the  reason. 

(d)  The  specialities  of  Christ's  teaching  and 
works  may  be  briefly  indicated.  Their  speciality 
has  been  challenged.  The  opinion  of  a  recent 
Gilford   lecturer  is   shard    by    many,    that    'itis 

article  of  reliuions  failli  wliicl,  i.  m  ui  oeneral 
asjiect  a  do.arine  p.'.iiliar  In  niii-lianily.  Its 
uni(i\ieness  lies  lathei  in  \\\\:i[  -cime  would  call 
the  iiersonality  cd  the  found,  i  i  W  ,allace.  Lectures, 
iii.).  Tbatis'true;  bni  ii-  ,-n,-^. -i  mii  is  not  true, 
that  there  is  no  una| iiene--  in  the  teaching  of 
•  'brist.  The  nniiinene-- ol  ibe  Teacher  draws  with 
it  nnnineinss  in  the  teailiing;  and  that  both  in 
ils  iiii'i  li,„|  (see  abo\e)  and  in  its  substance.  Sinii- 
laily  His  \\orks  exliil.il  liiuher  jiotency  than  the 
ordinary  human.  A  si  k.iil;  feeling  to  this  effect  is 
resulting  from  the  minnie  an.il\sis  which  at  the 
present  time  both  the  '  W  <.i.ls  '  .iial  the  'Miracles' 
are  undergoing  (cf.  A\endl,  liorhhiq  vf  Jcsus; 
Dalman,  Wonjx  „f  J.xus.  ,1  ,-/.).     His  dependence 

conlideiilly   asseiled.      I(    is  dilli'cnll,  if  not  inipos- 

is  likely  to  have  entered  into  the  formative  influ- 
ences of  Jlis  mind.  From  Greek  philosophy  He 
piidialily  lived  remote  as  much  by  natural  tem- 
lierannait  as  by  patriotic  interest.  He  was  not 
beyond  its  rangi',  but  then  as  now  the  Jew  had  a 
wonderful  jiowci  of  li\ing  in  the  fire  without 
suliering  the  smell  of  it  to  pass  ujion  his  garments. 
K\(ry  .lew  appeared  in  his  own  eyes  to  stand 
naaally  and  intellectually  on  a  higher  level  than 
III  to  111  ill  :  his  system  of  education  seemed  less 
ill  siiinii  of  vivifying  and  invigorating  ideals.  He 
\\a,s  nnilnred    on   the   history,  the  scenery,  the  re- 


stiii 


;to 


habits  of  iiide|ieiiiliiil  wi,-.doni  i<j.  Tam-.iv. /.'(/wro- 
Hon  o/ Christ,  ch.  H).  Of  .lewish  sects  ami  teachers 
three  have  been  suggested  as  contributorv  forces: 
the  Pharisees,  the  Baptist,  the  Essenes.  The  lirst 
proved  His  wor.st  foes  ;  they  had  an  inlluence,  but 
it  was  solely  negative.     The  .second  is  remarkable 


474 


DIVINITY  OF  CHRIST 


DIVIXITY  OF  CHRIST 


for  his  consciousness  of  liis  own  inferiority,  of 
Clirist's  higher  range  in  mission  and  higher  rank 
in  Person.  Of  the  third  let  Hausrath  judge  : '  From 
tlie  Essenes  His  whole  conception  of  the  world 
separated  Hira.'*  There  can  he  little  question 
that  the  impulse  to  reflexion  was  fostered  in  Christ 
by  study  of  the  sacred  books,  the  Law  and  the 
Prophets,  under  tlie  usual  Rabbinical  direction. 
The  master-words  of  His  teaching  are  drawn  thence. 
The  substance  of  His  teaching,  in  numerous  de- 
tails, is  defined  negatively  by  contrast  with  the 
comments  of  the  scribes  and  positively  by  '  fulfil- 
ment' of  the  Law  through  a  clearer  discernment 
and  profounder  enrichment  of  the  proper  principles 
of  the  Law.  The  substance  of  His  teaching  in  its 
main  jjositions  is  intrinsically  so  separate  from  even 
its  closest  approximations  in  previous  prophecy  as 
to  be  justly  entitled  to  the  claim  of  originality. 
The  source  of  its  originality  was  in  Himself. 
Christ's  teaching  is  His  own  exposition  of  the 
Divine  life  which  was  revealed  in  Himself  t  (Mt 
11^--'').  '  Out  of  a  perfect  relation  with  God  flows 
His  teaching  like  a  crystal  stream.'  Its  form  is 
drawn  from  the  religious  vocabulary  of  the  time  ; 
its  matter  from  His  own  mind.  In  this  connexion 
the  following  is  admirably  put,  and  meets  a  common 
objection : 

'  It  is  not  enough  to  show  that  particular  statements  of  our 
Lord  may  be  found  embedded  in  earlier  writings  which  consist 
mainly  of  foolish  superstitions  and  childish  conceits.  It  would 
be  strange  indeed  if,  with  the  Scriptures  in  their  hands,  the 
great  teachers  of  Israel  never  said,  or  never  uttered  in  pregnant 
phrase,  any  of  those  lofty  spiritual  truths  which  shine  forth 
from  the  pages  of  the  prophets.  But  if  we  find,  on  referring  to 
contemporary  literature,  that  such  references  are  only  like  rare 
jewels  shining  among  vast  heaps  of  error  and  superstition,  that 
they  are  only  like  flashes  of  lightning  in  an  all-embracing  night, 
then  their  concurrence  in  nowise  diminishes  our  wonder.  The 
problem  only  takes  another  shape.  How  is  it,  we  ask,  that  out 
of  all  this  spiritual  lumber  the  soul  of  Jesus  only  selected  what 
was  good  and  great,  and  rejected  all  the  rest?  How  is  it,  e.g., 
that  from  the  teaching  of  Hillel  He  took  (if,  indeed.  He  took  any- 
thing directly  thence)  only  what  was  eternally  true,  rejecting 
at  the  same  time  all  the  frivolous  ritualism  and  puerile  casuistry 
in  the  consideration  of  which  Hillel  spent  his  hfe  ?  Remember 
again  that  it  detracts  in  nowist.'  from  our  Lord's  claim  to 
originality,  that  even  His  ma-:  r  ili  n;.  -:  h  .1  t.een  partially  or 
casu.illy  expressed  by  tbo.'-i- ^^ :    ■  1    -   t.    Ifni.    Thequestion 


religion,  wliirh  should 
It  would  not  Ije  tme  to 
He  had  becTi  p.issing  al 


Mhougbt  of 
ill  the  rest? 
e,  as  though 


lid  hold  of  ( 


house,  T''achi<i'i  I'f  Chri\^t,  p.  66 f.). 

When  we  .idd  tliat  Chri.st's  teaching  was  given, 
so  to  >iic;ik,  casually;  not  systematically,  in  no 
ordered  or  Ihiislicd  statement;  that  the  \vhole  is 
comparatively  small,  and  yet  that  it  is  easy  to 
draw  up  from  the  scattered  sayings  a  sura  of 
doctrine  coherent,  self-consistent,  and  completely 
satisfying  to  the  needs  of  the  soul,  further  cogency 
is  lent  to  the  witness,  '  Never  man  so  spake ' 
(.In  7^"),  and  point  to  the  question,  '  Whence  hath 
this  man  this  wisdom  ? '  (Mt  13").  See  artt.  Origin- 
ality' and  Uniqueness. 

To  His  words  have  to  be  added  HLs  works.  His 
ordinary  doings  were  those  of  a  good  man  (Ac 
1(P*).  His  miracles  proved  a  special  presence  of 
God  with  Him  (Jn  3-).  There  is  a  crude  view  of 
tlie  Gospel  wonders  which  has  made  many  see  in 
them  an  unimportant  part  of  the  Gospel  story,  and 
even  feel  it  desirable  to  do  without  them.  So  long 
as  they  are  looked  upon  as  thaumaturgic  signs  or 
violations  of  Nature's  sequence,  so  long  mil  both 
religion  and  science  reject  them.  If,  however, 
they  are  considered  a.s  indications  of  laws  which 
emfirace  and  in  a  sense  unite  the  seen  and  unseen 
worlds,  it  is  of  immense  importance  to  Christianity 

'  It  hardly  comes  within  the  scope  of  this  article  to  consider 
the  alleged  intluence  of  Buddhism  or  Mithraism. 
t  Cf.  Perowne's  llnlscan  Lecls.  pp.  93,  94. 


not  produce  infallible  certainty  of  the  truth  of 
Christ's  Divinity.     But  no  infallible  certainty  can 


that  they  should  occur  in  connexion  with  the 
foundation  of  that  faith.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  in 
face  of  all  attempts  to  explain  them  or  explain 
them  aw^ay,  a  certain  robust  sense  of  the  general 
mind  has  refused  to  concur  in  any  view  that 
denies  their  reality  or  their  essential  place  in  the 
history.  They  reveal  Christ  no  less  than  His  doc- 
trine. They  constitute  warrants  of  His  Di\-ine 
power  :  they  also  form  part  of  the  Gospel.  They 
stand  as  a  real  item  in  the  list  of  testimonies  to 
His  inipression.  They  are  one  of  the  modes  in 
which  His  life  found  utterance,  '  an  authentic  ele- 
ment of  the  original  gospel  oflered  to  faith '  (A.  B. 
Bruce,  Apologetics,  p.  376  ;  Miraculous  Elements 
in  Gospels,  chs.  vi.  and  \'iii.).  In  this  respect  they 
are  on  a  different  plane  from  the  prodigies  credited 
to  pagan  heroes.  That  men  miglit  see  the  will  of 
God  at  work,  Jesus  did  the  works  of  His  Father. 
A  reckless  historical  scepticism  evaporates  the 
miracles  partly  into  odd  natural  events,  partly 
into  nervous  healings,  partly  into  gi-adually  grow- 
ing legends.  Sane  criticism,  however,  admits 
their  congi'uity  with  the  record,  their  naturalness 
to  His  Person,  and  their  value  to  faith.  The 
supreme  miracle  of  the  Resurrection  (wh.  see)  is 
of  primary  import. 

3.  Validity  of  the  experience. — The  lines  tluLs 
traced  converge  in  one  picture.  Their  eftect  is 
striking,  and  of  the  cumulative  kind.  They  may 
"  ;y  of  ' 
llible 
be  given.  The  Christ  they  portray  is  not  aUsolute 
in  the  sense  of  abstract ;  He  is  absolute  in  the 
sense  of  the  fullest  concrete  ;  all  the  elements, 
therefore,  which  go  to  make  up  this  impression  of 
His  Person  contribute  to  the  proof  of  its  power : 
by  exhibiting  what  He  is  they  testify  to  Him  : 
their  witness  is,  '  This  is  the  Son  of  God.'  It  was 
men's  experience  of  Christ  as  Divine  that  gave 
them  the  right  to  affirm  His  DiWnity.  Is  the  wit- 
ness true  ?  The  contention  here  made  is  that 
what  we  know  along  many  lines  as  the  Christian 
experience  is  a  new  and  distinctive  development, 
and  demands  a  new-  and  unique  factor  introduced 
to  the  human  consciousness.  Is  the  contention 
verifiable  ?  The  witness  is  an  interpretation  :  can 
we  trust  it  ?  Has  the  impression  an  exact  eqiuva- 
lent  behind  it  of  objective  fact  ?  What  were  the 
dimensions  of  the  objective  fact  capable  of  pro- 
ducing this  inner  eS'ect  ?  The  answer  must  be  that 
the  same  law  of  rationality  holds  here  as  in  other 
parts  of  knowledge.  The  effect  must  have  an 
adequate  cause.  What  the  .soul  realizes  as  the 
highest  in  its  inner  feeling  is  proof  of  reality  that 
the  rea.'ion  may  recognize.  If  the  soul  attains  the 
vision  of  a  Reality  whose  authority  over  it  is 
absolute  and  from  whom  it  receives  a  power  that 
masters  all  other  powers,  then  it  knows  the  mean- 
ing of  God.  The  finality  of  such  experience  cannot 
be  questioned,  when  its  source  is  per.sonality  (per- 
sonality being  the  only  fvdl  reality  of  which  we 
have  knowledge),  and  its  seat  the  moral  disposition 
and  not  individual  temperament.  Now  to  those 
conditions  the  impression  of  Christ  recorded  in  the 
Gospels  conforms.  Behind  the  records  He  stands, 
greater  than  themselves,  and  that  by  their  own 
showing ;  and  because  of  this  they  furnish  to  their 
readers  a  vision  which  does  not  fade  but  grows,  a 
power  that  is  new  and  permanent,  a  command 
from  which  the  conscience  cannot  dis.sent,  a  mas- 
tery that  sets  free.  He  Himself  had  this  effect  on 
men  as  they  companied  with  Him  ;  the  record  of 
their  intercourse  \vith  Him  has  the  .same  effect. 
The  effect  is  a  fact  of  <iiiitiMuous  exjierience  funda- 
mentally identical  in  Uiiid  llm.imliDut  the  Christian 
centiirie.s.  Both  arc  I  In'  chm'Ioiic  that  ciiwraiis 
Truth  transcending  time  ami  jilaic.  Only  the 
univei-sal  and  everlasting  can  transcend  the  limita- 


DIVINITY  or  CHEIST 


DIVINITY  or  CHRIST 


475 


tions  of  our  separateness  and  speak  in  the  same 
manner  to  thousands  of  different  souls.  The 
phenomena  of  Cliristiau  history  are  so  diverse  in 
kind  from  those  of  other  Iiistoric  faitlis  as  to  re- 
quire the  sup])osition  of  a  supernatural  origin  (of. 
Illingworth,  PcrsonaliUj  Human  and  Divine,  p. 
200).  _  The  witness  that  God  Himself  is  here  step- 
ping into  tlie  liistory  of  the  race  must  be  accounted 
true. 

III.  Beginnings  of  the  doctrine  of  Christ's 
Person  in  the  NT.— 1.  General  eheiraeter  of  the, 
doctrine. — It  has  been  necessary  to  make  the  above 
analysis  of  the  bases  of  belief  in  Christ  as  pre- 
sented in  the  Gospels  and  to  justify  it,  because 
it  is  only  by  luulerstanding  them  fully  that  we 
gain  any  test  by  which  to  determine  the  character 
and  worth  of  the  belief  itself,  or  reach  the  point  of 
view  for  appreciating  aright  its  beginnings  and  its 
growth.  It  is  a  doctrine  that  has  no  finality.  It 
is  based  on  an  experience  which  cannot  rest,  but 
must  grow  with  the  growth  of  all  life,  and  pervade 
all  other  experience  of  life.  It  is  a  doctrine  there- 
fore that  has  a  history  down  to  the  present,  and 
which  is  destined  to  continue  beyond  the  present. 
We  are  now  in  the  midst  of  a  new  growth  of  its 
meaning.  In  moving  on  we  can  purchase  security 
only  by  retracing  our  steps,  unravelling  the  web 
of  the  iiast  and  weaving  it  over  again.  RecuiTence 
to  the  original  will  reinvigorate  like  tlie  touch  of 
earth  to  the  feet  of  Ant;eus.  In  the  lirst  expres- 
sion there  is  a  universality  which  is  ajjt  to  be  lost  in 
the  divisions  of  later  opinion  :  there  is  an  implicit 
fulness  in  the  beginning  which  is  not  completely 
represented  in  any  subsequent  stage.  To  that 
beginning  we  now  advert.  In  the  conviction  that 
'  in  Christ'  they  were  '  a  new  creation,'  '  partakers 
of  a  Divine  nature '  (2  Co  5",  2  P  l*),  the  Apostles 
must  seek  expression  of  their  conviction.  The  ex- 
pression runs  over  into  every  phase  of  tlieir  thought 
and  life.  It  breeds  in  them  a  sense  of  new  relation 
to  Christ  akin  to  that  felt  towards  God,  originating 
a  new  thought  of  His  Person.  We  see  it  in  the 
Names  they  give  to  Him,  in  the  Pro].erties  and 
Attributes  they  ascribe  to  Him,  in  tln'ir  .ucciitance 
of  wonders  attending  His  Origin  aii<l  His  ji.issing 
from  sight,  in  the  relations  they  piiMcicI  to  insti- 
tute between  Him  and  previous  histmy  .hs  well  as 
future  ages.  The  NT  idea  of  His  Divinity  is  not 
to  be  built  up  as  an  induction  from  these  par- 
ticulars ;  these,  on  the  contrary,  are  the  reflexions, 
inevitable  and  faint,  of  the  experience  of  His 
Divinity  ;  they  are  tlie  inward  seeking  utterance. 

It  is  an  utterance  that  is  quite  spontaneous.  It 
is  the  outcome  of  religious  faith  not  of  philosophic 
interest.  The  s|icculative  instinct  is  wlmlly  scM'ond- 
ary  to  the  s|iiritu:il  farts.     I'.iit  \vl]ili>  (liis 'is  sn,  Iho 

While  thi-  r.TsMii  lii,l,l,-n  l.cliiii.l  thr  \\W  ..f  th(^ 
NT  is  vastei  tlian  the  NT  record  of  Him,  it  re- 
mains true  that  if  that  Person  were  to  survive  and 
His  impression,  they  must  be  shown  to  ring  true 
to  the  intellect.  What  happens  to  the  emotions 
suggests  problems  to  tlie  mind.  Pnjved  f.ic^ts, 
even  those  '  i1im>|, -seated  ill  onr  iii.vslie  l'i-aiiie,'liave 

to  forilUllale    tlielii-elM'S    ill     tllollullt.        Alld    so    tllC 

moral  life  eieate.l  l.y  Cluisl  furiiislied  m.aterial  for 
new  great  com  i,  ( i,,iis  litted  to  be  at  once  its  ex- 
pression an, I  it>  safeguard.  The  doctrine  of  His 
Person  was  tin'  iieeessary  correlate  of  the  impres- 
sion of  His  Personality. 

In  the  f.aets  thus  noted  is  to  l.e  foun.l  the  answer 
to  two  inquiries  of  rationalism,  (in  lie' one  liami, 
it  is  asked.  Why  is  He  never  ealle^l  CM'  ami  on 
the  other.  Why  such  illnrsihi  nf  nnr  ,,u,ni,,i  the 
writerst  Take  tlie  latter  In-i.  'Tie' eril  in-m' here 
has  been  carefully-  ma.le  l.y  Hi'.  Mailinean  (,sv,/^ 
of  Authority,  p.  ':;i;i)  ,-111,1  niier-,  wli,.  ni-^,'  that 
Jesus  was  construcl  sueee.s,si\  ely  into  (1)  (lieJow  i.sh 


ideal  or  Messiah,  (2)  the  Human  ideal  or  Second 
Adam,  (.3)  a  Divine  Incarnation.  This  construction 
of  theories  is  asserted  to  be  only  a  fanciful  achieve- 
ment of  early  Cliristian  thought.  '  The  personal 
attendants  o'f  .Tesns  worked  out  the  first  ;  the 
Apostle    of    tin-   Cailil.'s,    th.'    s,a-,,ll,l  ;    the    .school 

whence  the  Koinil,  (;,.-|i,-l  |ii,„,',.l,.,l,  th,'  third.' 
In  reply  it  may  l,,-  alliim,',!  that  siuli  irilicism 
holds  its  ground  only  liy  (a)  doing  violence  to  the 
facts  on  A\liicli  it  seeks  to  rest,  by  subjecting  them 
to  a  narrowly  subjective  standard:  the  facts  in- 
clude those  in  which  Christ  is  represented  as 
accepting  the  name  of  Lord  ;  by  (6)  an  arbitrary 
apjilication  of  the  idea  of  development  to  the  nar- 
rative. It  is  possible  to  prove  the  alleged  con- 
structions to  have  been  made  successively  only  by 
a  series  of  unwarranted  eliminations.  The  Syn- 
optists  are  not  without  knowledge  of  (2)  and  (3), 
nor  is  (1)  unknown  to  St.  Paul  and  the  Fourth 
Gospel.  The  facts,  when  viewed  without  prepos- 
session, point  to  no  such  cli'ar-i  ut  flieories.  They 
do,  however,  in,li,at,'  hotli  ni,,\einent  and  diver- 
sity of  belief,  ,lian-,'s  ,  ,jnst,iiit l.\  .eoing  on  in 
the  oinnions  respecting  Clnists  nature,  and  very 
material  difi'erences  in  individual  emphasis  and 
interpretation,  a  movement  and  diversity  only 
less  remarkable  than  the  unmistakable  unity 
pervading  them.  It  was  natural  that  men  of 
the  character  and  training  of  St.  .James  and  St. 
Peter  should  discover  in  OT  conceptions  of  the 
Messiah  approximate  lines  of  thought  wherewith 
to  describe  their  experience  of  Christ.  Tempera- 
mental and  other  causes  led  St.  Paul  and  St. 
John  as  naturally  to  give  representations  of  their 
experience  such  as  they  have  done,  the  former 
anthropological  aii,l  jirailiial,  the  latter  contem- 
plative and  iiiysiiial.  .\s  types  these  three  are 
distinguisliable,  lail  not  evrl'nsively  of  each  other. 
There'are  otiieis  also,  as,  ,.(/.,  that  of  the  Ep.  to 
the  Hebrews,  of  Eplicsiai.s  ,'ind  Colossians,  of  the 
Apocalypse.  These  expressions  .lilha-  among  them- 
selves, and  differ  in  jirei  isely  llie  niaiiiier  that  is 
natural  and  desirable.  The '\aiiety  is  that  of  life 
and  reality.  These  all  represent 'differences  that 
are  not  separate  developments  of  substance  in  the 
doctrine  so  nmcli  as  precious  elements  constitutive 
of  a  richer  fulness  tlian  any  one  of  them  or  all  of 
them  ;  a  fulness  of  necessary  mysteriousness.  They 
represent  no  signs  of  a  struggle  to  assert  Divinity 
in  opposition  to  a  bare  humanity :  of  such  a  struggle 
there  is  not  a  trace  in  the  NT. 

As  to  the  second  point  of  criticism,  it  is  possible 
with  some  reason  to  maintain  that  the  term  0(6i  is 
never  applied  to  Christ.  The  matter  is  still  in 
dispute  among  scholars.  The  crucial  passages  are 
(not  takin-  into  account  Jn  l^  20^,  1  Jn  S-o,  He 
F"-)  Ko  !)•■,  Tit  21^  Ac  20=«,  1  Ti  3'«,  Ph  2«,  2  P  1>, 
Col  2'-'.  In  2  P  1'  the  rendering,  '  Our  God  .and  the 
Saviour  Jesus  Christ,'  is  not'cxc  Indi'd  ;  similarly 
Tit  2".  In  Ko  Q!*  the  doxology  mav  he  ,e..;anled  as 
referring  to  God.  In  1  Ti  3'"  the  true  text  is  ,«  not 
ee6u  In  Ac  20=8  theAVreadine  is  prol.,ihlv  eorrect 
('God').  Col  2^  Eph  5%  2  tli  f'-.  Tit  2''  have 
been  adduced  as  proofs  that  St.  Paul  sjieaks  of 
Christ  as  God  ;  but  erroneoiisly.  The  twostrongest 
pasages  are  Ph  2''-8,  Col  2».  But  if  the  texts  are 
not  unaiiiliigunus,  flmt  docs  not  affect  tlie  truth  of 
the  Diriiiilii  iif  ( 'hrist.  It  was  scarcely  natural  for 
a  Jew  to  use  the  Divine  Name  in  any  connexion 
(cf.  Dalman,  Wn,,!^  of  Jems,  §  vii.,  also  p.  233). 
If  it  were  used,  it  applied  to  God  in  His  absolute 
being.  Cf.  Wcsfeott,  Ej).  of  St.  John,  p.  172. 
God  nianifcstiiie  Himself  in  Christ  was  affirmed  in 
a  varie'ty  of  other  modes.  The  Apostles  were  not 
so  muel'i   ,-oi,eeine,l    to   -iirove  1 1  is  1  )i  v  in  it  V  '  as  to 


476 


DIVINITY  OF  CHRIST 


DIVINITY  OF  CHRIST 


about  Him  as  tliey  liieached,  in  His  liumriTi  mani- 
festation and  in  His  Exalted  Glory.  I'loui  tliat 
point  of  view  they  neither  missed  the  ((iii-riiiu~- 
ness  of  His  Godhood  nor  failed  aTmiuhuuly  Id 
declare  it.  The  declarations  they  make  are  of  One 
who,  they  were  persuaded,  was  absolutely  unique 
in  position,  in  character,  in  work ;  One  whose 
relationship  to  God  was  perfect,  who  was  the 
Saviour,  Light  and  Life  of  men.  Are  such  de- 
clarations consistent  wth  anything  short  of  His 
Di\'initj-  ? 

2.  Divine  designations  applied  to  Christ. — Of  the 
names  implying  distinctiveness  of  nature  assiuueJ 
to  Christ  in  the  Gospels  and  Epistles,  tliere  ,iic 
four  of  supreme  import :  (a)  '  Son  of  Man.'  wlji.  li 
stands  by  itself ;  (6)  '  Son  of  God,'  with  which 
may  be  set  as  allied  in  significance,  '  Son  of  the 
Highest,'  '  Only  -  begotten  Son,'  '  My  beloved 
Son '  (or  '  My  Son,  my  Chosen  '),  and  '  The  Son  '  ; 
(c)  •  Christ ' ;  (rf)  '  Lord.'  Others  are  the  '  Word  of 
God '  and  '  the  Word ' ;  '  Son  of  David,'  ■with  which 
may  be  placed  '  Koot  and  offspring  of  Da«d,'  and 
perhaps  '  Prince  of  life'  and  '  Prince ' ;  '  Saviour  '  ; 
'  Image  of  God ' ;  '  Second  Adam  ' ;  '  First  and 
Last '  ;  '  The  Holy,  Just  One.' 

Son  of  Man.  —  To  this  title  there  attaches  a 
peculiar  interest,  which  is  reflected  in  the  amount 
of  discussion  it  has  excited.  Controversy  circles 
round  its  use,  its  source,  its  meaning.  It  occurs 
in  all  the  four  Gospels.  It  is  the  one  name  Christ 
is  represented  as  reserving;  for  His  exclusive  use. 
That  He  dill  mi  i,  |.lainl\  iini.lied  in  the  narratives. 

His  u<ii-  of  it   !  I   f.  Bruno  Bauer,  Volknwr, 

Oort,  Liulzm.iiin,   ,  <.  :ii,.   most  capable 


,  the  ten 
Him  but  I 


the  Christian  community,  an.l  caine  into  use  in  the  followini; 
manner.  The  early  Christians  believed  that  Jesus  had  pro- 
phesied His  Parousia.  They  hesitated  to  make  Him  say  so 
outrigrht,  and  hence  represented  Him  as  sa>int;  only  that  the 
*  Man '  of  Daniel  should  appear  with  the  clouds  of  heaven.  He 
could  say  that  without  meanins:  Himself.  But  the  Christian 
interpretation  soon  read  Him  into  the  announcement,  then 
used  the  title  in  the  prophecies  of  the  Passion  and  Resurrection, 


this  and  other  forms,  fails  to 
('0  tlie  term  is  not  found  in 
almost  solelv  on  the  lips  of 
re  Jn  12-^,  Ac  l'^') ;  (b)  if  a 
denoting 
p  portray 


St.  Paul  or  elsewluri-  in 
Jesus  (instances  ta  tip  i 
coinage  of  the  Early  CI 
lowliness — hanuonize  \vi 
a  glorified  Christ  ? 
The  expression  occurs  in  previous  Hebrew  and 
Aramaic  literature.  The  references  of  importance 
are  in  Ezekiel,  Daniel  (7^^),  and  Enocli,  in  all  of 
whicli  the  Messianic  significance  is  not  indisput- 
able (see  Schmidt,  art.  'Son  of  Man'  in  Enci/r. 
BibL,  who  inclines  to  refer  even  Dn  7'-'  to  Michael, 
not  Messiah).  In  what  sense  is  it  to  be  under- 
stood? Tlie  commonly  accepted  view  (e.g.  Bey- 
schlag-Wendt)  may  be  thus  stated  :  Christ  was 
desirous  of  being  reco<piized  as  the  Messiah.  He 
was  not  desirous  of  fulfilling  the  current  expecta- 
tions of  what  the  Messiah  should  be  and  do.  He 
therefore  did  not  apply  the  current  designations 
of  Me.ssiah  to  Himself,  but,  finding  one  term,  '  Son 
of  Man'  (in  Daniel),  employed  it  as  expressing  (1) 
Messianic  diaracter,  and  (2)  much  more  than  the 
expected  Messianic  character,  viz.  the  generically 
human  character. 

Dolman  (^Words  of  JesttJt)  has  adduced  grave  considerations 
against  this  view.    It  is  a  view,  he  holds,  started  by  the  Greek 
in  primitive  Christian  thought.    He 
ipted  il  from  Dii  Tl-^,  and  used  it  of 
ii  was  not  widely 
.h.    There 'the 
"  ith  the  winged 
ad.  the  fourth 


divines,  and  has 
maintains  that  C 
Himself  in  its  oi 
prevalent  in  Hi^  i 
emphasis  rather  1 


■ith 


that  <"!od  has  given  him  to  be  what  he  is.  The  expression  in- 
innaii  >  li-s  his  human  nature  than  his  Dirine.  'Son  of  Man' 
ari,..a  -  •  tliat  member  of  the  human  race,  in  his  own  nature 
ii<:|  i«tr)ii,  whom  God  will  make  Lord  of  the  world.' 

To  indicate  results,  it  may  be  taken  that  there 
is  a  fair  consensus  of  agreement  on  the  following 
jioints :  (a)  that  the  use  of  the  title  as  applicable 
to  HiiuseU  is  due  to  Christ ;  (6)  that  a  wider  source 
than  the  passage  in  Daniel  is  probable ;  (c)  that  in 
meaning  it  embodies  a  composite  conception,  com- 
bining various  OT  suggestions,  and  these  the  most 
rich  and  salient ;  the  seed  of  the  woman,  the  one 
like  a  son  of  man,  the  suliering  Servant  of  Jehovah, 
tlie  ideal  people,  the  recipient  of  special  privilege, 
tlie  apportioner  of  judgment,  of  celestial  origin. 
In  wealth  of  content  the  expression  stands  alone. 
It  was  thus  peculiarly  appropriate  as  a  self- 
designation  of  Christ.  In  it  there  met  the  two 
divisions  of  Messianic  reference,  those  pointing  to 
the  glory  and  those  pointing  to  the  humiliation 
of  the  Messiah,  comprising  elements  seemingly 
incongruous  and  irreconcilable,  yet  in  essentiak 
capable  of  being  unified  in  a  single  character.  In 
the  course  of  His  ministry  He  was  to  manifest  Him- 
self as  the  conqueror  of  Satan,  as  perfect  man,  as 
concentrating  His  race  in  an  intense  personal  life, 
as  conscious  of  a  special  mission  from  God,  of  abso- 
lutely intimate  relation  to  God,  of  perfect  depen- 
dence upon  God,  and  as  sharing  with  God  in  the 
judgment  of  the  world,  characteristics  all  of  them 
ilessianic,  and  impossible  to  be  included  in  any  of 
the  terms  of  Messianic  intention  more  fully  than 
in  this,  the  'Son  of  Man.'  Its  meaning  on  His 
lips  ooes  further  than  even  the  fulness  of  Messianic 
intention ;  so  that  it  is  not  at  once  intelligible 
('mystifying  title'  of  "Weisse  and  others  is  not 
justified),  a  feature  it  shares  with  Him  whom  it 
designates  and  the  hopes  it  unified.  In  it  these 
features  find  place  :  much  contemporary  Me.ssianic 
belief  of  a  familiar  kind  ;  less  prominent  ideas  that 
liad  before  this  time  pas.sed  into  the  background  ; 
novel  functions  in  Christ's  conception,  such  as  the 
life  of  the  Son  of  Man  as  a  life  of  service,  and  His 
death  as  nece.ssary  to  redeem  men ;  and  the  com- 
bination of  all  these  in  a  new  synthesis  which  was 
not  simply  a  mosaic  of  old  data  or  gatliering 
up  of  the  disparate  details  of  earlier  expectation, 
but  which  was  reached  by  the  entrance  of  a  new 
thing  that  made  the  fulfilment  infinitely  more 
glorious  than  the  promise  might  have  seemed  to 
warrant  (cf.  art.  Sox  OF  MAN). 

Son  of  God  ('the  Son,'  'My  Son').  This  title, 
like  the  former,  belongs  to  the  OT  writings,  being 
found  in  Gn  6",  Ex  4-,  2  S  7'\  Ps  2"  82«  SO-"^,  Job  1" 
38',  Hos  V  IV,  anil  linir  a|. plied  in  various  con- 
nexions: to  offsiniiij  .if  tla  J. .(Is,  to  angels,  to 
judges,  to  Israel  a^  a  | i.ii|.l.'  -.i\ing  Jehovali,  to 
individual  Israelites,  t..  tla-  tlieniatie  king,  to  the 
Messiah  (Dalman  and  others  object  to  '  Son  of  God ' 
as  a  Messianic  title).  The  expres-sion  '  Son  of  God ' 
[or  '  My  Son ']  occurs  in  the  Synoptics  27  times, 
and  'the  Son'  9  times.  In  St.  .lohn  'Son  of  (iod' 
occurs  10  tiai.v  .m.!  Mlie  Si.n'  14  times.  Both 
occur  in  St  .l.ihn^  lir-i  l'.|.i~tli'.  in  several  of  St. 
Paul's,  in  ll.lii.  A -.  ill  1.'.  \ .  latinn.  In  the  Go.spels 
tliey  are  ai.i.lie.i  t.j  Muisl  I.3-  the  Father,  angels, 
demoniacs.  Himself  (rarelj',  and  only  in  St.  John), 
disciples  (iV..B.— St.  Peter's  confession,  Mt  IC'"), 
elders,  high  priest,  centurion.  In  determining  its 
meaning,  we  may  exclude  the  idea  of  pagan  influ- 
ence. There  is  little  probability  that  the  cult  of 
the  Roman  emperors  suggested  either  the  word 
or  its  idea.  Its  application  to  believers  (Mt  5"- ^'', 
Lk  G-»,  Eph  P,  Jn  1'=,  1  Jn.3"'=,  Eo8»-'^  Ph  2") 
does  not  neces.sarily  confine  its  import  to  the  merely 
human  sphere.  Its  jirevious  usage  in  the  OT 
could  not  fail  to  jjrepare  the  way  for  a  connota- 
tion of  special  relationship  to  God. 


I 


DIVINITY  OF  CHRIST 


DIVINITY  OF  CHRIST 


477 


Tliat  Uie  term  contains  Messianic  reference  is 
contested  by  few.  In  line  with  it  are  to  be  ex- 
plained the  testimony  of  tlie  demoniacs  (Mt  8-"-'  ||  Lie 
4^'),  and  the  lieavenly  voices  at  the  baptism  and  the 
TransKguration  (Mt  3"  \T^).  Here,  too,  possibly 
lies  the  reason  for  Christ's  use  of  the  term  in 
debates  with  the  Jewish  leaders  (Jn  3'8  5'™-  8-^^-). 
The  Messianic  sense  is  obvious  in  St.  Peter's  confes- 
sion (Mt  16'") ;  less  so  in  that  of  the  centurion  (Mk 
15™).  The  answer  to  the  high  priest's  question  was 
treated  as  blasphemy  (Mt  26'^sf-),  because  by  it  He 
claimed  more  than  Messiahship.  St.  John's  state- 
ments enhance  the  feeling  of  the  Synoptists.  He 
points  clearly  to  Christ's  use  of  the  term  and  in 
the  solitary  sense.  He  is  careful  in  his  use  of 
names,  and  would  hardly  put  into  Christ's  mouth 
a  self-designation  without  some  warrant  of  sanc- 
tion from  His  personal  usage.  But  the  Synoptists 
are  not  without  traces  of  the  same  clearness.  In 
Mb  22«-«,  Mk  12'i=-37,  Lk  '20^'-",  the  inference  is 
inevitable  that  the  Messiah  is  the  son  of  One 
more  exalted  than  David. 

What  meaning  tlid  Clirist  attach  to  the  term? 
The  above  passage  is  signiiicant.  He  is  not  deny- 
ing Davidic  descent.  He  affirms  it  (see  on  the 
other  side  Wellhausen,  Evaiu/d.  Marci).  By  His 
descent  from  David  He  satisfies  one  condition  ex- 
pected in  the  Messiali.  That  fact,  however,  does 
not  preclude  Him  from  ^Mtisfyiiig  further  condi- 
tions not  included  in  tlii>  .\'ii  >si.iiiic  prophecy, 
evincing  a  power  in  Him  wWwh  ynimU  to  another 
and  higher  origin.  This  fuidicr  scope  in  His  filial 
relation  is  intimated  in  such  passages  as  Mt  IP' 
16",  Lk  10=^  Mt  3",  Mk  4",  Lk  »\  Jn  8=5-  as  1510 
4^*  etc.).  He  taught  the  disciples  to  call  God  'our 
Father,'  and  called  God  His  own  Father  in  a  special 
sense.  He  asserts  that  He  alone  adequately  reveals 
and  knows  God.  He  suggests  a  special  sonship  in 
the  parable  of  the  Wicked  Husbandman  (Mk  12"^). 
The  double  strain  is  present  in  His  consciousness. 
He  is  Son  in  the  Messianic  sense.  He  is  also  Son 
in  a  Divine  sense  :  of  absolute  oneness  with  the 
Father.  He  has  the  mission  of  the  former  with 
its  dignity :  He  has  the  infallible  knowledge  with 
perfect  obedience  of  the  latter.  Both  features 
emerge  in  the  Synoptics  as  in  the  Fourth  Gospel. 
Both  are  not  justly  interpreted  in  such  a  sense 
as  suggests  a  merely  ethical  relation  to  God,  a 
relation  which  others  may  actually  jjossess  or  are 
destined  to  attain.  In  them  tliere  is  the  liasis  of 
the  ethical  but  of  the  essential  as  well.  The  Son- 
ship  of  Christ  is  human  and  historical  yet  solitary 
and  transcendent. 

St.  Paul  corroborates  the  Evangelic  positions. 
The  earlier  Epistles  contain  a  large  amount  of 
teaching  as  to  the  Person  of  Christ.  We  have 
lucid  references  to  the  Sonship  :  1  Th  l'»,  Ro  S^-  ^", 
2  Co  i\  Ro  \\  2  Co  P^ff-,  Gal  2™,  Eph  4l^  Ro  P, 
Gal  1'^  4'',  where,  through  the  position  assigned  to 
Him  on  the  one  hand,  and  on  the  other  the  special 
Spirit  dwelling  in  Him,  equality  with  God  is  as- 
serted and  Divine  functions  attributed.  In  one 
passage,  2  Th  2,  Christ,  while  not  named  '  Son,' 
is  regarded  in  His  capacity  as  the  opponent  of 
Antichrist  as  a  consubstantial  representative  of 
God.  This  idea  in  another  context  we  have  in 
Col  l"-i5,  He  P-«  3''  etc. 

A  survey  of  the  texts  reveals  a  complex  concep- 
tion, including  (1)  a  Messianic  predicate  asserting 
the  place  of  Christ  as  the  complete  antitype  of 
the  theocratic  king;  (2)  .-in  clliiral  idciililv'iii  the 
realization  of  Divine  liolinr-  in  :i  slaiiilr-s  life; 
(3)aspiritual  unity  revealiim  il-rit  in  ,1  |.rn.ct  har- 
mony with  the  mind  of  (Jod  an. I  ;i  p.'i  te.l  ohcdii.nce 
to  His  will,  which  were  as  much  innate  properties  of 
His  personality  as  achievemepts  of  His  moral  self. 
In  adclition,  theconviction  of  His  iu-e-existentglorv* 


and  of  HLs  cosmic  agency  neces.sitates  (1)  a  iihysical 
descent  from  Deity  by  a  creative  act  of  the  Divine 
Spirit  (see  ANNUNCIATION  and  Vikgin-eirth)  ; 
and  (2)  an  equality  of  essence  in  virtue  of  which 
Divine  acts  and  qualities  are  ascribed  to  Him. 
Cf.,  further,  art.  Son  of  God. 

Christ  ('the  Christ'),  King  of  the  Jews,  Lord, 
may  all  be  taken  together.  '  Christ'  is  the  Greek 
equivalent  of  Messiah.  Both  words  signify  'the 
Anointed.'  While  applied  in  the  OT  to  prophets 
(Ps  105>^  1  K  19'S)  and  high  jjriests  (Zee  4"),  the 
name  is  specially  identified  with  the  kings,  from 
the  passage  (Ps  2-')  implying  that  they  were  under 
the  special  protection  of  Jehovah,  and  exercised 
righteous  government.  Later,  wlien  Israel  had 
come  under  Gentile  rule,  the  idea  entered  into  the 
name  that  the  Messiah  would  overthrow  the  secular 
might  and  liberate  the  people,  i.e.  be  at  once  the 
Saviour  of  the  faithful  and  the  I'rince  or  King  of 
s  accorded  to 


His  surname, 
-  iinrrmbered 
ly  lii.'.     He  is 


the  saved.  In  the  NT  the  nan 
Jesus  everywhere.  It  is  pradic; 
a  circumstance  remarkable  wlun 
that  He  forbade  its  use  in  His  1 ; 
greeted  also  as  '  King'  ami  as  '! 
cognitions  of  Him  as  Messiah.  That  He  Himself 
accejjted  the  vole  appiais  irom  the  following :  (a) 
His  sanction  <.l  llie  leim,  ■  ,Son  of  Man'and  'Son 
of  God'asaiiplical.l.'  lo  lliui;  (6)  His  consciousness 
of  being  endowed  «i(li  Hie  Spirit  o[  God  (Lk  4^^"-), 
a  mark  of  the  .Messianic  l\in- (Is  1 1-')  and  of  the 
Servant  of  Jehovah  (Is4-J'  (iP)  :  (.)  His  M-ll-witness 
as  to  His  being  the  Soil  and  1 1  eii- of  (lud  (l's2-);  {d) 
His  assurance  of  the  rcfcicnce  in  I's  111)  to  IHmself, 
where  the  King  in  Zion  is  in  llis\ieu  the  Messiah; 
(c)  He  spoke  of  tlie  Imilding  of  (he  Temple  in  the 
same  sense  in  which  the  Messiah  is  the  builder  of 
the  Temple  (cf.  Mt  2G",  Mk  14*8  wiUi  Zee  6'--"); 
(/)  He  spoke  of  His  king:dom  and  therefore  Mes- 
.s'ianic  rank  ;  (</)  He  described  Himself  as  Judge  of 
the  world  —  a  Messianic  function  ;  {/i)  He  com- 
mended St.  Peter's  confe.s.sion  (Mt  l(j")  ;  (i)  He 
acknowledged  His  Messiahship  before  His  judges 
(both  Sanhedrin  and  Pilate);  (,/')  He  was  put  to 
death  as  'King  of  the  Jew.s.'  Messiahship,  it  has 
been  said,  is  not  Divinity  (Ottley,  art.  '  Incarna- 
tion '  in  Hastings'  DB).  True,  but  Messiahship  as 
enriched  by  Christ  is.  The  new  features  with 
which  He  fulfilled  the  old  conceidion,  suliering 
and  resurrection,  brought  it  as  near  I»i\inity  as 
was  possible  for  the  Hebrew  mind.  In  them  was 
concentrated  the  work  of  sahalion,  .always  as- 
signed in  OT  to  JehovalL  llnn.elf.  in  the  NT 
always  and  in  all  its  |iaits  .csi-ned  lo  Christ. 
The  step  is  but  a  short  one  from  ilir  unhesitating 
acknowledgment  of  the  l>i^inily  of  (  hrist's  work 
to  that  of  the  Divinity  of  His  nature. 

The  step  is  taken  when  Ho  is  called  Lord. 
Christ  refers  to  Himself  as  'your  Lord'  (Mt  '24''=). 
There  is  evidence  of  growth  in  the  meaning  of 
Lordship  in  NT  usage.  Resell  has  shown  that 
the  name  was  interchangeable  in  instances  with 
'Master'  and  'Rabbi.'  Between  that  stage  and 
Hie  view  of  the  Kiiistles  that  Christ  is  Lord  over 
Nature,  tl„.  \'mvrvsr,  Ihe  Clnirch  .('..I  I '«-'«,  Ph 
2i»"-  .•(,■.),  Ilieie  i-  a,  ^^i.|e  .jnlf.  Tlie  iiansition 
was  iirolMl.ly  eliecfcl  in  I  lelleiiisi  ic  ciielcs,  and 
aided  by  the' use  of  '  Lord  '  as  a  title  of  the  Roman 
Emperor  and  associated  with  the  divine  bono"'- 
paid  to  him. 

The  Second  Adam  (the  Man  from  Heaven)  is  a 
designation  jjeculiar  to  St.  Paul.  In  idea  it  is 
more  speculative  than  the  foregoing.  The  impulse 
to  its  construction  is  to  be  found  in  the  Apostle's 
conversion  through  the  glorified  appearance  of  the 
Risen  Christ  on  the  way  to  Damascus.  On  the 
ground  of  that  experience  he  contrasts  men,  as  he 
finds  them,  .subject  to  sin  and  death,  and  this  man 
exalted  over   both   (1  Co   lo^-'",   Ro  5^---^).     The 


478 


DIVINITY  OF  CHRIST 


DIVINITY  OF  CHRIST 


religious  trnil  moral  destinies  of  the  human  race 
are  traced  to  the  action  of  two  typical  men,  the 
first  Adam,  '  a  living  soul,'  and  the  second  Adam, 
'  a  quickening  spirit.'  In  so  tliinking,  he  gives  an 
original  turn  to  his  Messianic  views.  The  ordinary 
Messianic  hopes  of  his  nation  he  shares.  He  is 
acquainted  also  with  the  tradition  of  the  life  and 
teachings  of  Christ.  But  neither  his  intellect  nor 
his  conscience,  endued  with  fresh  vision  and  power 
by  Christ  risen,  could  rest  satisfied  with  those. 
He  departs  from  them,  but  not  to  supersede,  rather 
to  develop.  He  regards  Christ  as  the  foretold  of 
the  prophets  (Ko  1-),  His  ministry  as  a  manifesta- 
tion of  the  righteousness  of  God  (3-'),  His  death 
and  resurrection  as  the  fulfilment  of  foreshadow- 
ings  in  the  OT  Scriptures  (1  Co  15^^).  He  shares 
with  the  Synoptists  and  Acts  the  position  tliat 
Christ  is  the  Saviour  and  bringer-in  of  the  kiiiu- 
dom  of  righteousness;  with  them  he  applies  to 
Christ  the  names  'Son  of  God,'  'Christ,'  etc.,  in 
a  sense  of  exceptional  dignity.  What  they  had 
reached  by  a  gradually  increasing  insight  he  won 
by  the  vision  (Gal  1'^),  and  from  the  point  of  view 
of  his  spiritual  intuition  he  reads  the  Person  of 
Christ.  What  he  had  seen  colours  all  his  thought, 
which  is  essentially  a  Christology  centring  in  tlie 
idea  of  'the  Lord  of  Glory.'  The  terra  signified, 
of  Christ's  work,  relief  from  the  oppression  and 
burden  of  sin  and  the  law  and  death,  with  hope  of 
regeneration  for  himself  and  aU  men  ;  it  signified, 
of  Christ's  Person,  that  He  was  Spirit  (2  Co  3") ; 
man,  '  in  the  likeness  of  sinful  flesh '  but  '  the  man 
from  heaven '  whom  the  heavenly  principle  made 
perfect  (5-'),  pre-existent  (Ro  8^  1  Co  10',  Gal  4^) 
and  'head  of  every  man'  (1  Co  11'),  human  nature 
in  its  archetypal  form,  particularly  in  creation 
(8^  etc.).  That  He  of  whom  all  tliis  was  affirmed 
was  not  conceived  to  be  an  ordinary  human  per- 
sonality in  His  iuthuate  nature,  goes  without  say- 
ing. Taken  in  conjunction  with  other  terms  used, 
the  '  Lord  of  Glory '  declares  Divinity.  In  the 
later  Epistles,  Eph.,  Col.,  Ph.,  Ti.,  Tit.,  the 
Divinity  is  explained  in  the  same  directions  with 
greater  precision  and  fulness,  and  exemplified  in 
fresh  relations. 


Thcf 


e  developed  Chr: 


;;round  for  discrediting  them.  But  without  ;?ood  reason.  The 
Liter  thought  is  in  orjjanic  hue  with  the  e-irlier  ;  both  fix  atten- 
tion on  what  Christ  did  and  does,  and  not  on  what  He  taught ; 
both  rise  to  the  thought  of  the  glorified  Christ  through  the 
work  of  Christ  on  earth.  The  later  illustrates  and  emphasizes 
rather  than  increases  the  heavenly  dignity  of  Christ,  assigning 
an  increment  of  function  rather  than  of  rank  (cf.  Lightfoot. 
Col.  p.  120). 

In  the  Ep.  to  the  Hebrews  there  is  a  remarkable 
type  of  doctrine  which  has  not  yet  been  defini- 
tively located.  It  has  very  little  in  common  witli 
the  NT  WTitings  generally,  or  even  with  the 
Pauline.  Its  conception  of  Christ's  Person  is 
characterized  by  significant  ditterences  in  sub- 
stance and  expression.  After  a  prologue  (almost 
in  the  manner  of  the  Fourth  Gosjiel  and  the  Ajio- 
calypse,  which  looks  like  a  summary  of  previous 
thought)  it  proceeds  to  its  main  tliesis,  tlie  superi- 
ority of  the  New  Covenant  over  the  Old.  In  the 
first  seven  chapters  Christ  is  presented  as  the  Son, 
the  Revealer,  and  the  ICin^-Priest.  As  the  Son, 
He  has  been  prepared  for  in  Israel  (1"),  has  jiar- 
tieipated  in  the  creation  and  is  its  consummation 
(1=),  is  the  manifestation  of  the  Father's  glory  as 
its  effulgence  (airatjyaafia),  and  the  expres.sion  of 
the  Divine  essence  {inr6aTa<ns)  as  its  embodiment 
xapaKTTip)  (V),  and  is  now  at  the  Father's  right 
hand.  As  tlie  Revealer,  He  is  superior  to  angels 
and  Moses;  while  yet  a  'partaker  of  flesh  and 
blood '  (2"),  wherein  He  has  done  away  with  sin 
and  death,  establishing  and  vindicating  His  glory 
by  His  sulTerings.     As  the  Iving-Priest  He  realizes 


in  perfection  the  qualifications  of  the  priesthood 
imperfectly  met  in  the  OT  system.  In  his  exegesis 
the  author  applies  to  Christ  two  series  of  OT  texts, 
the  one  having  in  view  in  their  original  meaning  the 
Messiah  (1',  cf.  Ps  2'  ;  l^- »,  cf.  Ps  45'- »),  the  otlier 
relating  to  God  (1«,  cf.  Ps  97' ;  1'"-^=,  cf.  Ps  102=«-=»). 
All  three  aspects  point  to  such  pre-eminence  of 
Christ  as  malces  Him  incomparable  with  men,  to 
be  equalled  with  God  alone.  It  is  at  the  same 
time  a  pre-eminence  appropriated  in  His  human 
exjierience,  made  His  own  by  obedience — a  point 
insisted  on.  These  two  form  the  idea  of  Christ : 
He  is  God  who  by  a  Divine  Incarnation  fulfils 
Himself  in  man  ;  and  He  is  man  who  by  a  liimian 
faith  and  endurance  realizes  himself  in  God.  If 
the  terminology  is  less  Hebraic  than  in  St.  Paul  or 
the  Synoptists,  the  motive  is  the  same,  viz.  to 
L.xi'iL'^s  in  the  terms  available  the  new  contrasts 
ami  special  aspects  of  Christ's  Person  impressed  on 
the  author's  mind  by  his  independent  experience 
of  Christ. 

The  Logos  ('the  Word')  is  the  term  distinctive 
of  St.  John  (Jn  P- ",  1  Jn  1',  Rev  19").  It  is 
introduced  in  a  way  which  indicates  that  it  w^as 
familiar  to  the  writer  and  his  readers.  As  a  tenu 
it  is  traceable  in  both  Palestinian  and  Alexandrian 
thought.  Its  idea  is  Hebraic  not  Philonian,  and 
to  be  taken  in  connexion  with  'the  Onhj-bcgottcn.' 
It  is  no  impersonal  abstract  Idea.  The  Logos  is, 
as  in  the  Targums,  personal  and  active  as  the 
equivalent  of  God  manifesting  Himself  (1  Jn  P). 
He  is  an  historical  human  life  (Jn  P'',  1  Jn  1'"'),  a 
fact  not  to  be  minimized.  Yet  His  coming  witliin 
the  conditions  of  humanity  was  the  coming  of  One 
who  had  been  pre-existent  with  God  in  and  from 
the  beginning  (!•  3i=-3'6''=),  sharing  in  the  life  of 
God  and  in  the  Divine  acts  of  creation  and  pre- 
servation, and  operative  in  previous  history  as  an 
illuminating  and  quickening  potency  in  the  hearts 
of  the  righteous  (l^-  *•  »•  '=  W^  11^=).  Complementary 
is  the  thought  of  the  Apocalypse  of  His  eternity  or 
semi-eternity  in  nature,  the  Alpha  mid  Omef/n, 
and  in  redemptive  acti^^ty— 'Lamb  slain  from  the 
foundation  of  the  world,  and  of  the  perfect  and 
perpetual  adoration  accorded  to  Him  with  God  in 
heaven.  The  recital  of  the  work  of  the  Logos,  so 
brief,  covering  the  vastest  realms,  cosmic,  historical, 
personal,  in  the  most  summary  space,  is  maje-stic. 
The  absence  of  any  line  of  intermediate  beings 
between  God  and  man  is  notable.  The  identifica- 
tion of  the  Word  with  God  (fleis)  is  deliberate. 
The  description  gives  no  plausibility  to  the  view 
that  here  we  have  a  category  taken  from  philo- 
sophy and  applied  loosely  to  the  facts.  There  is 
nothing  in  the  Synoptic  representation  of  the 
human  character  and  consciousness  of  Christ  which 
unfits  it  or  renders  it  inadequate  for  the  Logos 
conception  ;  equally  there  is  nothing  in  the  Logos 
conceived  as  becoming  incarnate  in  the  man  Jesus 
which  contradicts  or  impairs  the  reality  or  the 
completeness  of  His  humanity  as  portrayed  in  the 
Synoptics. 

The  two  are  adequate  and  congruous  to  each 
other.  They  are  also  necessary  to  each  other, 
each  being  a  tor.so  without  the  other.  The  source 
of  the  doctrine  was  the  actual  experience  of  tlie 
author,  but  it  is  the  experience  of  a  mind  of  pro- 
found spirituality  and  devout  idealism.  He  gives 
tlie  impression  or  having  been  determined  in  the 
particular  cast  he  gives  his  doctrine  by  contem- 
porary circumstances.  A  specific  method  is  ap- 
l)arent.  It  is  not  tliat  he  seeks  to  prove  that 
'  Jesus  is  the  Christ,  the  Son  of  God  '  (Jn  20=') ;  it 
is  the  special  manner  of  his  proof  that  differen- 
tiates Ins  record,  and  above  all  the  specially  in- 
tense feeling  towards  Christ  that  pervades  it, 
characteristics  that  have  led  some  to  assert  that 
he  sees  Christ  as  primarily  Divine  and  less  human 


DIVINITY  OF  CHRIST 


DIVINITY  OF  CHRIST 


than  the  Synoptlsts  see  Him.  It  is  truer  to  say 
that  lie  sees  Clirist  both  as  more  Divine  and  more 
human  tlian  the  Synoptists ;  driven  beyond  tlieni 
by  deepened  experience  of  Christ  on  tlie  one  hand, 
and  that  richer  retiexion  on  the  other  hand  to 
which  he  was  incited  by  the  increasing;  (Jnnstic 
licence  of  the  age.  Gnosticism  was  ,i  sulithT  fue 
than  current  Messianism.  Its  so|iliisiiis  <i>uM  Ijc 
met  only  by  a  simpler  and  ])rijlimiiilur— siiuplri 
because  profounder — truth.  The  Fourth  Gos]icl 
gives  that  truth.  It  attempts  a  portrait  of  Christ 
corresponding  to  the  most  intimate  and  overwhelm- 
ing sense  of  His  power  conceivable,  at  once  wholly 
revealing  God,  and  the  Divine  revelation  of  the 
whole  nature,  life,  and  destiny  of  man.  Hence  to 
the  historian  it  is  an  enigma,  to  the  devout  a 
poem.  Its  outline  is  simple  and  free  because  so 
broad  and  high.  Its  structure  is  less  of  the  his- 
toric than  of  the  spiritual  sen.se.  The  test  (jf  its 
genuineness,  like  that  of  art,  is  not  in  its  teclini(iue 
but  in  the  dim  and  powerful  feeling  of  infinite 
meaning  it  throws  upon  the  reader.  It  is  in  conse- 
quence the  most  fruitful  of  all  the  sources  of  subse- 
quent thought. 

3.  Divine  properties  attributed  to  Christ.  — We 
may  note,  to  begin  with,  the  ascription  to  Christ 
of  what  had  been  ascribed  by  OT  prophets  to 
Jehovah  (cf.  Ps  45"- »  with  He  l^-";  Is  7"  Q"*  with 
Mt  1^ ;  Jer  &■ "  [where  the  '  Branch  of  David ' 
is  called  the  '  Lord  our  righteousness ']  33'"  with 
the  NT  term  'Root  of  David'  applied  to  Clirist; 
Mai  3',  where  the  messenger  about  to  come  to  his 
own  temple  is  called  '  Lord,'  with  Mk  1-,  Lk  1™). 
Again,  the  tempting  of  Jehovah  (Nu  14=2P-<',  Ps 
95'-')  is  the  tempting  of  Christ  (I  Co  10»).  In  He 
!"•  "  what  is  attributed  to  Jehovah  in  Ps  102=«  is 
attributed  to  Christ.  In  Jn  12-'»-«  it  is  asserted 
that  the  language  of  Isaiah  (6"-'")  eoiiccniiiiL; 
Jehovah  refers  to  Christ.  Is  45'-^,  com  pared  \\illi 
Ro  H'"- '',  shows  that  the  judgment-seat  of  God  is 
that  of  Christ.  From  Jl  2^^  and  Ro  10'^  the  name 
of  Jehovali  is  the  name  of  Christ. 

More  impressive  are  the  references  to  Christ's 
participation  in  Divine  attributes.  He  has  self- 
existence  like  the  Father  (Jn  5-'"),  and  therefore 
His  life  is  eternal  (Jn  1^  11-"'  14",  1  Jn  1-  5"- >=). 
He  has  pre-existence ;  cf.  the  Apostolic  testimony 
(He  7\  Rev  !»  22'^)  with  Christ's  (Jn  8=«  17').  He 
cannot  yield  to  death  or  see  corruption  (Resurrec- 
tion narratives,  also  Jn  10'^,  Ro  l"",  He  7'",  Jn  11-°, 
Ac  IS^'  2"),  He  will  come  again  (Jn  14'-  =8,  Ac  1", 
1  Co  11=8  etc.).  He  gives  life  to  others  (Jn  5"-^--^  &", 
Pli  3i»- 11),  He  has  all  power  (Mt  IS'',  Rev  l»,  Jn 
5",  He  1^  Ph  2"),  rnclutling  power  over  nature  and 
man  (miracles  and  healings,  cf.  Lk  G''-"  8^",  Mt  9-8, 
also  Ro  81""^),  a  power  He  can  comiimnifatc  to 
disciples  (Ac  9"  3is  4i'>).  St.  Paul  attiilmles  to 
Him  the  Divine  plenitude  (Col  2'').  I  li'  lias  ^nyn-- 
human  knowledge  of  God  and  supiiluiuiaii  iiLsi-lit 
into  man  (Jn  16*  2-\  Rev  2=«),  He  is  uiichanueablc 
as  Jehovah  (cf.  Ps  102=8  with  He  !"•  '=,  also  IS"). 

Of  Divine  nets  asserted  of  f'lirist  are  the  follow- 
ing :— Creation  (Jn  P,  Col  l'"-",  He  I--'");  Pro- 
vidence (He  P,  Jn  .5",  Col  1'");  K.-.l.  in|i(in,i  (A<- 
20=8,  Jn  IS's-io-w,  Mt  9",  Kpli  -V",  la-a-s  l,„, 
numerous  to  be  specified) ;  l''(>iuiMiic-s  ,,i  sins  |M( 
98,  Mk  2i»,  Lk  S"*  etc.);  Jud-ui.'iit  (.hi  .7--- -',  Ac 
17^1,  Ro  14i»,  Mt  25^1-*) ;  Restitution  of  all  things 
(Ph  3=1,  1  Co  15=^-=8).  Finally,  the  whole  atmo- 
sphere of  feeling  and  disposition  toA^•ards  Christ  in 
the  NT  is  one  of  worship.  He  claims  it,  and  His 
disciples  accord  it.  The  faith  given  to  God  is  given 
to  Him  (Jn  141  etc.).  Exaniiiles  of  doxologies  are 
1  P  411,  2  Ti  41s,  Rev  l",  2  P  3'*,  Rev  5".  The 
honour  of  the  Son  equals  that  of  the  Father  ( Jn  5=', 
Ph  2»- 1»,  He  F).  Tlie  Blessing  of  God  is  invoked 
from  Christ  not  less.  Distinctively  Christian  wor- 
ship IS  a  calling  upon  the  name  of  the  Lord  Jesus 


Christ  (1  Co  1=,  Ac  9").  Distinctively  Cliristian 
belief  is  the  confession  that  Jesus  is  the  Messiah, 
or  that  He  is  the  Son  of  God  (Ro  10»,  1  Jn  41=). 
Baiitism  is  into  His  name  (  Ac  9?^  8"),  the  Lord's 
Su|pper  is  significant  of  His  Death  and  its  specific 
virtue,  new  life  (1  Co  lO'"  11=8). 

A  pal  lent  study  of  the  texts  cited  in  the  two 
l>ie(i'(liii-  si'ciions  will  set  in  relief  several  facts  as 
to  -\pii>iolic  reflexion  on  Christ's  Person.  The 
begiiiuiiiys  lie  unquestionably  in  the  Messianic 
hoiie  and  in  Christ's  claim  to  be  the  Messiah.  The 
first  proclamation  of  the  gospel  we  have  in  the  dis- 
courses ill  Acts,  the  one  burden  of  which  is  the 
Messiahshij.  of  the  Master.  The  Apostles  there 
speak  Hill  of  an  experience  whose  roots  lie  in  the 
iiatidii's  ]ia,s(,  and  which  are  renewed  into  fresh 
uiiiw  (li  ]<y  Christ.  The  proof  they  ofier  is  the  evi- 
ileiice   of    faets   and   of   what   the   facts   point  to. 

They  detail  llir listinct  orders  of  facts:  the  life 

and  works  (.1  ('Inist,  the  death  on  the  Cros.s,  the 
resurrei  lii>n  and  exaltation.  They  emphasize  the 
peculiar  aial  wc.ialious  power  revealed  in  all  three, 
and  especially  in  the  last,  in  which  they  find  the 
key  to  llie  wlmli — the  Risen  Lord.  Traces  of 
transcendental  interest  are  not  absent  (Ac  5^i  31^-  =8 
10^,  1  P  1=3  4=  l"-=>',  Ja  21  58- »  118- =1),  the  percep- 
tion of  dignity  and  powers  beyond  the  Messianic 
attaching  to  Him.  This  type  of  thought  is  common 
to  St.  Peter,  St.  James,  St.  Jude.  It  is  a  simple, 
objective,  practical  presentation  of  Christ,  yet 
with  features  of  its  own  so  specifically  new  as  to 
make  it  impossible  to  identify  it  with  the  exist- 
ing religious  schools.  The  other  writings  base 
themselves  upon  those  beginnings,  the  Synoptics 
most  obviously.  They  give  the  facts  with  fulness 
which  are  given  in  the  Acts  discourses  in  sum. 
Tliey  show  the  process  of  the  movement,  of  which 
Acts  gives  the  results.  There  are,  however,  ini- 
ji'irtant  difi'erences.  The  conviction  of  the  higher 
nature  of  Clirist  is  more  prominent ;  it  in  fact  per- 
vades them;  it  is  not  iuipused  on  their  substance 
as  an  after-thoiiulit  m-  iinder  tlie  stress  of  polemical 
tendency;  it  is  part  ami  jiai  eel  of  the  whole.  Their 
irortraiture  is  the  portraiture  of  One  who  is  man 
yet  stands  apart  from  men  in  character,  and  takes 
the  place  of  God  in  the  heart.  Of  speculation  there 
is  no  sign.  The  growth  of  conviction  is  gradual, 
indeed,  but  comes  in  natural  course  by  contact 
with  facts.  With  the  Syno]itics  we  jilace  the 
Apocalypse.  Speculati\c  features  appear  in  St. 
Paul  (earlier  and  later  E|iistlcs),  the  l'(.urlli  tios- 
pel.  Epistle  to  Hebrews,  in  the  doctrines  of  '  the 
Man  from  heaven,'  'the  Second  Adam,'  the  Logos, 
and  the  '  Revealer,'  and  '  High  Priest  of  the  New 
Covenant '  respectively. 

There  is  a  wide  cleavage  of  opinion  on  rpiestions 
as  to  the  source  and  worth  of  the  aforennntioned 
factors.  Were  they  due  to  tin'  iiitlueiuc  (jf  the 
Hellenistic  schools,  or  did  they  iIcmiikI  in  the 
Palestinian  tradition?  Are  tliey  alien  accretions 
to  be  cast  aside,  or  are  they  of  the  essence  of  the 
Christian  message  ?  Mucli  ingenuity  has  been  ex- 
pended in  trying  to  prove  that  the  original  facts 
lia\i.'  lii'cii  laiuely  woikcil  n\r\-  in  the  Synoptic  and 
ill  (lie  I'anlincan.l  .lolin  iiiiinc  .loci  riiies. 

In  the  lornier  ,-!>.■.  it  is  1, . aim aiiied,  there  was 
a,  twoh.M  ],roccss  of  adapting;  proi.liecy  to  .suit  the 
faets  of  the  life,  and  t)f  adapting  the  facts  of  the 
life  to  .suit  prophecy;  in  tlie  case  of  the  latter 
the  facts  of  the  life  are  interpreted  in  the  light  of 
some  of  the  fundamental  ideas  of  the  Greek  cults 
and  philosophy,  taking  on  along  with  the  forms 
much  of  the  substance  of  Greek  religion.  Thus 
originated  the  scenery  of  hyper-physical  events 
that  surrounds  the  life  in  the  one  instance,  and 
the  Logos  Christology  in  the  other.  Both,  it  is 
alleged,  changed  the  true  character  of  the  gospel, 
and  are  entirely  inappropriate  to  its  inner  sxiirit. 


480 


DIVINITY  OF  CHRIST 


DIVINITY  OF  CHRIST 


Such  contentions  have  certainly  not  yet  been  niado 
good.  Tliey  have  nevertheless  served  to  discover 
deep  affinities  existing  between  Apostolic  thought 
and  the  higher  mind  of  that  age,  affinities  not 
directly  derived  from  each  other.  Considerations 
are  constantly  increasing  to  vindicate  the  real 
independence  of  the  Apostolic  mind,  and  its  essen- 
tial continuity  with  the  fundamental  religion  of 
the  Holirew  race  and  the  religious  consciousness  of 
Jesus.  It  is  not  intrinsically  difl'erent  from  them. 
Its  novel  cciiisi  itnrnt^  iire  not  alien ;  they  do  not 
arrive  from  \\  i(  hunt,  tlicy  are  perceived  within,  as 
the  result  of  the  life  aiid  teaching  of  the  Founder 
of  their  faith  and  still  more  as  the  efi'ect  of  His 
character.  Tliere  is  a  freedom  both  in  previous 
Jewish  religious  ideas  and  in  the  religious  con- 
sciousness of  Jesus  which  assured  to  them  a  vast 
future  vitally  and  organically  related  to  them,  to 
whicli  the  above  tlieory  does  scant  justice,  and 
whicli  suggests  the  warrant  of  truth  to  the  Apos- 
tolic developments. 

IV.    SUB.SEQUENT  DEVELOPMENT  OF  NT  IDEAS.— 

1.  History  of  the  doctrine. — The  Logos  idea  became 
the  centre  of  a  remarkable  theological  growth 
wliich  engrossed  the  intellectual  energy  of  the 
lirst  five  centuries.  During  that  period  the  subtle 
Greek  mind  left  its  mark  so  substantially  on  the 
current  forms  of  Christian  belief  as  to  render  it 
problematical  how  far  the  definitions  of  the  great 
Councils  really  embody  the  essence  of  the  original 
faith.  The  naturalness  of  the  development  is 
acknowledged.  Its  necessity  was  created  by  cer- 
tain obvious  causes  due  to  tlie  bistcnic  cliaracter  of 
the  Churcb,  and  its  presence  a^  a  lii  in^  organiza- 
tion in  the  world.  The  age  ulii.h  wilnesse.l  the 
dissolution  of  paganism  and  tlie  tiiunqih  of  new 
ideals  of  thojight  and  duty  was  one  of  missionary 
zeal  and  mental  anguish.  The  early  propaganda 
was  extensive  and  intense.  It  bad  to  confront  the 
corruption  of  pagan  morals  and  the  medley  of 
heathen  beliefs.  It  had  to  justify  its  own  novel 
convictions.  Its  final  purpose  was  practical :  to 
make  men  like  Christ.  A  faithful  delineation  of 
what  He  was  and  did  became  imperative ;  still 
more  a  consistent  conception  of  what  made  Him 
what  He  was.  The  Church  ottered  a  new  life, 
whose  experiences  were  of  profound  interest,  created 
and  sustained  by  Christ,  to  a  world  of  almost 
feverish  intellectual  curiosity.  The  mystery  of 
Christ  which  had  revived  Hebrew  devotion  began 
to  fascinate  and  excite  the  Gentile  mind.  Specu- 
lation was  stimulated,  and  increasing  eftbrt  made 
to  bring  the  potential  elements  of  Christ's  teaching 
witliin  the  scope  of  men's  understanding.  The 
new  world  was  at  its  best  in  reflexion,  it  yielded 
to  rinM  ..nly  after  understanding  Him. 

Sonici  liiiiu  I"  !"■  iiii'lia-stood  there  was.  The 
wlioir  |iic.i .-  ,  is  iiiirlliuiMe  Only  ou  the  assumption 
of  tlie  imlievitaliim  ar.i>|itance  of  belief  in  Christ's 
higher  nature.  The  prolileni  to  the  Jews  had  been, 
Is  this  rabbi  more  than  tlie  Messiah  ?  The  problem 
to  the  Hellenic  world  now  was,  Is  tliis  Word  more 
than  our  X(57os  ?  and  before  the  proliIeni  was  solved 
to  its  satisfai-tion,  Greek  tlioniihl  i.nss,.,l  llirough 
an  experience  a^  leirealue  and  i  (■\  olm  ionary  as 
Jewi.sh  aspiration  lia.l  ilone  in  lie-  A|.o  lolie,  age. 
The  answer,  fmlliei,  ]irr^rr\  cl  I  lie  he.sl,  ideal  of 
classical  (ailime,  aiel  haii-lair.l  it  into  a  con- 
stituent trenMiM-  ..1  tin-  riiii  ij.in  (•onsciousness. 
The  result  wa^  ilier.,ii,|ii.  -t  oi  i  1m- older  conceptions 
of  deity,  whether  of  prophet-  oi  [.liilos-ophers,  by  a 
new  conception,  a  monotheisni  i.lentiral  with  no 
previous  form,  the  richest  liillierto  r.aihed,  and 
one  which  eventually  proved  eapalile  ol  imparting 
a  spiritual  unity  to  "men  of  vast  ly  more  educative 
value  than  any  system  of  organized  culture  before 
or  since. 

(a)  Patristic  aflre.— At  first  (up  to  A.D.  300)  the 


process  is  slow  and  uncongenial.  There  are  parties 
of  prnetieal  outlook  only  and  others  of  eonserv.itive 
instiiiet  whieh  fail  to  comprehcml  lie-  urw  -itna- 
tii>n.  Kut  in  the  better  represenlaiiMs  of  the 
("liriNtiaii  nuivement  there  is  a  readier  coiuave  and 
a  more  vigorous  intellect.  They  manifest,  indeed, 
no  lapse  from  Apostolic  attainments.  The  desire 
to  keep  to  what  is  primitive  is  with  them,  as  witli 
the  others,  passionate,  but  in  no  narrow  spirit. 
They  are  eauer  to  search  into  the  implications  of 
their  doel  rin>'.  I'.ul  iliey  plainly  exhibit  a  want  of 
ei|ui|ineiit  lor  the  ta-k.  They  are  always  vague, 
ofliii  (  onllietinu.  \  clear  theory  cannot  he  gained 
fiieii  tlii'ir  writings.  Both  facts,  the  existence  of 
>cci~  wliirli  refused  to  theorize  and  the  uncertain - 
t  ic-  oi  t  \\:>-i-  w  ho  did,  are  alleged  by  some  historians 
as  ,-1  ^ldund  for  denying  to  that  age  any  assured 
belief  in  Christ's  Divinity.  The  niat'erial  for 
judgment  is  not  too  abundant,  hut.  there  are  cer- 
tain guiding  facts.  Clni-I  is  eveiywbere  wor- 
shipped as  God.  Cf.  riinys  \i  ell-known  letter  to 
Trajan  ;  the  Vesper  hymn  of  the  Eastern  Church, 
the  Gloria  in  Excclsis,  the  Tcrsancttis,  all  in  use 
in  the  2nd  century.  Lucian's  satire  betrays  a 
series  of  characteristic  traits  of  Christians,  in- 
cluding the  worsl.i|.  of  -the  crucitid  sophist.' 
There  is  the  witncs,,,r  il,c  ni.irlvrs  «lio  ]iref,ariMl 
death  to  replaciic4  (III  ist  li\  the  Kiii]icior  in  llndr 
adoration.  The  i;,i|,|i-n.al  I'irolcssions  ,,t  the  period, 
too,  niaiiit.iiu  unimpaired  tie-  NT  pr.icl  ii-e  of  com- 
bining the  ,Soii  with  Ihc  father  .and  Spirit.  We 
distinguish  lietween  the  popular  belief  embodied 
in  the  foregoing,  and  explanations  of  the  belief  in 
face  of  the  Greek  mind.  The  former  was  general 
— the  latter  were  but  tentative.  The  eflbrts  of  the 
First  Fathers  and  Apolo/jitts  were  neither  pro- 
found nor  precise.  They  were  directed  towards 
three  aims,  (1)  to  justify  the  worship  of  Christ,  (2) 
to  define  aright  the  relation  of  the  Son  to  the 
Father,  and  (3)  to  elucidate  the  operation  of  the 
Word  in  creation.  Their  discussions  have  in  view 
three  types  of  opposition,  of  which  the  first  refused 
to  recognize  Christ  as  the  equal  of  God  (Ebionism) ; 
the  second  denied  His  perfect  manhood  (Docetism) ; 
while  the  third,  prepared  for  by  Docetism  and  em- 
bracing an  embarrassing  mixture  of  tendencies 
known  as  Gnosticism,  conceived  amiss  the  relation 
between  God  and  the  T'niversp.  The  Cliristian 
thinkers  were  iirofoundly  moved  hy  this  threefold 
antagonism.  Tlicy  kc.-p  then  hiitli  linn,  but  tlieir 
apologetics  are  inn  ci  tain  .md  incmlious.  An 
adequate  iihilosophy  i-  l.e\ond  tlieir  power.  Let 
it  be  remcmlicrcd,  howexir,  that  tlie  views  they 
repel  are  also  ch.iotic  and  crude:  moreover,  all  of 
them  represent  some  sort  of  a  faith  in  Christ  as  a 
IJeing  of  a  higher  order,  liy  the  controversy  con- 
ducted bjr  writers  .such  as  Barnabas,  St.  Ignatius, 
Hennas,  in  particular,  Church  doctrine  attains  at 
this  stage  a  certain  measure  of  self-consciousness, 
especially  over  against  Jud.aism,  and  to  a  slighter 
extent  over  against  the  abstract  notions  of  heathen 
speculation. 

Around  the  problems  raised  by  the  latter,  thought 
in  the  next  period  deepens  immeasurably,  the  seeds 
of  all  future  discussion  are  planted,  both  of  orthodox 
and  lieretical  opinion.  A  succession  of  writers, 
interesting  and  copious  in  suggestion,  including 
such  names  as  .lust  in  Mart  \  r,  Iren.aais,  Tertullian, 
Clement  of  Alex.andiia,  Oii.cn,  develop  the  Clnis- 
tian  positions  in  \ai  eiu-  diic,  nons  wiih  dialect ieal 
skill  and  eonsidciiililc  -puiinal  insiLdit :  (1)  the 
natureof  onr  kiio\\  Icd-c  ..i  ( ;.id  a-,  icl.itive  and  our 
knowledge  of  the  naliirc  oi  Cod  a,  w  holly  separate 

from  the  created  «oi  Id,  spii  it  ual  and   i uiterial  ; 

(2)  our  knowled.e,-  of  the  nature  ol  the  Logos  as 
immanent  in  the  Divine  nature  and  expressed  in 
the  world  of  created  things,  as  eternal  and  mani- 
fest in  time  ;  (3)  our  knowledge  of  the  identity  of 


DIVINITY  OF  CHRIST 


DIVINITY  OF  CHRIST 


481 


the  Son  with  the  Father  as  one  in  essence  as  in 
will,  related  by  generation,  and  of  the  identity  of 
the  Son  with  tlie  human  race  as  its  '  recapitula- 
tion' or  archetype,  leading  to  affirmations  of  a 
real  Fatherhood  in  the  Godhead  and  the  conception 
of  the  Divine  Unity  as  a  life  of  moral  relationsnips. 
The  stress  of  the  argument  came  to  concentrate 
itself  in  the  third  of  these  points,  against  the 
Adoptionists  on  the  one  hand,  who  secured  the 
unity  of  God  by  confining  Christ  within  the  limits 
of  humanity,  and  against  the  Sabellians  on  the 
other  hand,  who  secured  it  by  treating  the  dis- 
tinctions of  Father,  Son,  and  Holy  Spirit  as  simply 
modes  of  the  one  God.  By  the  beginning  of  the 
4th  cent,  this  long  interior  process  of  conflicting 
reflexion  was  ready  for  a  final  issue. 

It  came  in  the  Arian  disputes,  which  for  a  century 
— to  A.D.  451 — filled  tlie  Cnristian  world  and  passed 
through  several  phases.  Arius  was  incited  to 
action  by  the  teaching  of  Alexander  the  bishop  of 
Alexandria,  who  tauglit  the  eternal  generation  of 
the  Son  ('  there  never  was  a  time  wlien  He  was 
not ').  He  maintained  that  as  a  fatlier  must  exist 
before  his  son,  therefore  the  Son  of  God  did  not 
exist  eternally  with  the  Father ;  that  not  being 
eternal  He  was  created,  but  before  time  began  ; 
that  being  created.  He  is  in  all  things  unlike  the 
Father.  The  Council  of  Nica?a  (A.D.  325),  con- 
vened by  the  Emperor  for  tlie  settlement  of  peace, 
decided  against  Arianism,  and  defined  the  authori- 
tative doctrine  to  be  that  the  Son  is  '  of  one  sub- 
stance' [ousia)  with  the  Father;  that  He  was 
'  begotten,  not  made,'  that  '  there  never  was  a  time 
when  He  was  not,'  that  'He  was  not  created.' 
The  Nicene  Creed  was  established  largely  by  the 
brilliant  advocacy  of  Athanasius,  subsequently 
bishop  of  Alexandria.  It  was  a  signal  triumph  in 
favour  of  the  essential  Divinity  of  Christ  as  distinct 
from  a  merely  moral  likeness  to  God.  There  can 
be  little  doubt  that  Arian  contentions  propagated 
themselves  over  a  \vide  area ;  and  that  partly 
through  the  ability  of  the  Arian  leaders  to  gather 
into  association  with  themselves  much  floating 
dissatisfaction  with  the  deeper  currents  discernible 
and  now  becoming  dominant,  and  partly  by  the  aid 
of  political  and  secular  methods.  It  is  unques- 
tionably the  case,  however,  that  the  Arian  position 
had  a  vitality  of  its  own  which  the  Athanasian 
dogmatics  never  wholly  quenched,  and  which  has 
burst  out  again  and  again  in  subsequent  thought. 
It  is  the  natural  standpoint  of  all  minds  that,  in 
seeking  to  appreciate  Christ,  start  from  the  idea  of 
God  rather  than  the  fact  of  Christ ;  its  main 
interest  is  not  religious  but  theistic,  a  theoretical 
deduction,  not  the  statement  of  an  inner  experience. 
Athanasius  met  it  on  the  basis  of  that  Christian 
experience  which  initiated  the  problem,  .and  from 
the  beginning  had  determined  its  development. 
His  instinct  was  justified;  for  although  the  Arian 
agitation  protracted  itself  all  through  tlie  4th  cent., 
it  was  gradually  deserted  by  the  more  religious 
adherents,  whom  the  Athanasian  divines  took  pains 
to  conciliate  by  removing  false  impressions,  by 
deepening  their  thought,  and  by  popularizing  it 
with  illustrations. 

The  second  great  Council,  that  of  Constantinople 
(A.D.  381),  saw  practically  the  death  of  Arianism. 
It  reaffirmed  the  Nicene  dogmas  against  various 
novelties,  and  especially  that  offshoot  of  Arianism 
which  denied  the  Divinity  of  the  Holy  Ghost 
(Macedonians).  The  third  Council,  at  'Ephesus 
(in  431),  and  the  fourth,  at  Chalcedon  (in  451), 
dealt  with  other  three  consequences  of  Arian 
doctrine,  known  as  the  Nestorian,  ApoUinarian, 
and  Eutychian  heresies.  The  three  have  reference 
to  the  constitution  of  Christ's  Divine-human  Pers 
Jesus  Christ  being  Divine  in  the  Nicene  sense, 
what  sense  could  He  also  at  the  same  time  be 
VOL.  I.— 31 


human?  It  had  been  determined  tliat  He  was 
primarily  Divine  ;  not  a  man  like  other  men,  who 
became  Divine,  but  the  personal  Logos  of  God 
manifesting  Himself  through  the  human  person 
with  whom  He  had  entered  into  union.  Accord- 
ing to  this  view,  He  was  necessarily  two  distinct 
natures,  to  one  of  which  it  seemed  impossible  to 
render  all  the  significance  of  its  proper  functions, 
viz.  the  human  nature.  In  particular,  Was  His 
knowledge  limited?  Had  He  a  true  body  and  a 
reasonable  soul?  Was  His  Person  single? — pro- 
blems which  enlisted  the  most  earnest  interest  of 
Athanasius,  tlie  Gregorys,  Cyril  of  Alexandria, 
Leo  of  Rome,  and,  above  all,  Augustine  of  Hippo. 
Briefly  the  answers  were  :  (1)  as  to  Christ's  human 
knowledge,  that  omniscience  belongs  to  the  God- 
head of  the  Word,  but  that  the  human  mind  which 
the  Word  took  was  limited  ;  (2)  as  to  Christ's  body, 
that  it  was  a  true  body,  really  born  of  Mary,  and 
passible  in  the  experiences  of  hfe ;  (3)  as  to  the 
union  of  the  Divine  and  human  natures,  that  these 
two  were  each  perfect,  without  confusion,  and 
united  in  one  Person  ;  '  although  He  be  God  and 
man,  He  is  not  two  but  one  Christ.'  In  the  words 
of  Chalcedon,  He  is— 


Son, 


Lord  Jei 


us  Christ,  the  same 
being  perfect  in  man- 
truly  God  and  truly  man,  the  same  having  a  rational 
soul  and  a  body,  of  one  substance  with  the  Father  according  to 
the  Godhead,  and  the  same  being  of  one  substance  ^th  us  ac- 
cording to  the  manhood,  in  all  things  like  unto  us  except  sin 
.  .  .  one  and  the  same  Christ,  Son,  Lord,  only-begotten,  acknow- 
ledged in  two  natures,  without  fusion,  without  change,  without 
division,  without  separation  ;  the  difference  of  the  two  natures 
having  been  in  no  wise  taken  away  by  the  union,  but  rather  the 
property  of  each  nature  being  preserved,  and  combining  to  form 
one  person  and  one  hypostasis.' 

Or,  in  the  words  of  the  last  of  the  great  Creeds, 
the  so-called  'Athanasian,'  which  fairly  represents 
the  theology  of  the  5tli  century  : 

'  He  is  not  two,  but  one  Christ ;  One  ;  not  bv  conversion  of 
the  Godhead  into  flesh,  but  by  taking  of  the  manhood  into  God  ; 
One  altogether  ;  not  by  contusion  of  substance,  but  by  unity  of 

(b)  Mediwval period  (5th  to  15th  centuries).— The 
conciliar  definitions  remained  undisturbed  as  tlie 
official  formulas  of  the  Church  right  through  tlie 
Middle  Ages  up  to  the  present ;  and  without  im- 
portant modification  or  advance.  To  account  for 
this  prolonged  acquiescence  of  the  mediteval  mind 
is  not  at  once  simple,  for  the  Nicene  system  is  both 
uncritical  and  incomplete.  The  Church  had  to 
address  herself  to  new  and  arduous  tasks,  chiefly 
of  organization.  She  had  assumed  the  external 
efjuipment  of  the  Roman  empire  for  practical  effi- 
ciency in  educating  the  multitude  of  peoples 
brought  within  her  pale.  Her  paramount  require- 
ments were  unity  and  a  working  belief.  All  avail- 
able spiritual  forces  were  ranged  in  a  practical 
order  for  a  practical  end.  The  effect  on  the  doctrine 
of  Christ's  Person  is  observable  in  the  following 
results  :  (1)  the  less  speculative  and  more  practical 
discussion  of  the  older  problems,  especially  those 
concerned  with  the  effect  of  the  Incarnation  on 
Christ's  knowledge  and  will ;  (2)  the  consideration 
of  Christ's  Person  in  association  with  the  soterio- 
logical  aspects  of  His  Work  ;  (3)  the  systematic 
co-ordination  of  the  several  parts  of  Christologieal 
science  into  a  connected  whole,  and  of  the  whole 
with  other  doctrines  such  as  those  of  God  and  the 
Church  ;  (4)  the  more  lucid  realization  of  the  nature 
and  principles  of  this  doctrine  in  line  with  the 
elaboration  of  the  doctrine  of  transubstantiation 
and  the  Mass ;  (5)  the  popular  illustration  of  its 
truth,  mainly  in  its  place  as  part  of  the  Trini- 
tarian rnn(P]itioii,  by  analogies  drawn  from  out- 
ward n.idiri',  niiil  --lill  more  from  the  human  mind. 
Two  Mili-idiny  -Mciiiis  are  not  to  be  omitted, 
notewdi  I  hy  l.iraii-,  (if  their  influence  in  helping  to 
discredit  tiio  methods  of  the  Schoolmen  and  in  pre- 


482 


DIYIXITY  OF  CHRIST 


DIVINITY  OF  CHRIST 


pai 
fru 


ring  for  the  Reformation ;  viz.  (6)  free  and 
ruitless  inquiry  into  '  quotlibeta,'  i.e.  questions 
arbitrarily  suggested  and  only  remotely  afiecting 
religious  interests  or  fundamental  truth;  and  (7) 
the  rise  of  mystical  and  pietist  communities  cherish- 
ing an  emotional,  sometimes  sentimental,  contem- 
plation of  the  Saviour  in  His  purelyhuraanqualities. 
Scholasticism  has  often  been  criticised ;  but  it 
taught  the  thoughtful  theologian  at  least  one  great 
lesson,  that  it  is  unsafe  to  develop  the  theological 
consequences  of  any  doctrine  without  continual 
reference  to  the  proportion  of  the  whole.  It  effec- 
tually awakened  also  the  more  religious  minds  to 
return  for  that  reference  to  the  primitive  sources 
in  the  Scriptures  and  the  Fathers. 

(c)  Modern  (from  Reformation  era,  16th  cent., 
onward). — The  new  spiritual  experiences  in  which 
the  Reformation  originated  brought  out  into  clearer 
relief  the  disparity  between  the  matter  and  tiie 
method  of  the  Scholastic  disputations.  A  religious 
Reason  began  to  assert  itself  independently  of  the 
Scholastic  process.  It  gave  the  intellect  a  new 
freedom  to  question  the  authority  and  relevancy 
of  the  old  ;  one  of  whose  first  utterances  expressed 
dislike  of  further  speculation  as  empty.  It  blessed 
only  those  energies  which  made  religion  inward 
and  personal.  As  the  previous  centuries  had 
deepened  the  mind  sufficiently  to  speak  for  itself, 
so  now  the  age  was  dawning  whicli  should  so  com- 
pletely sanctify  the  moral  nature  as  to  make  its 
instincts  supreme.  In  Luther  pre-eminently,  but 
not  less  in  Calvin,  Zwingli,  and  others,  the  ethical 
interpretation  of  spiritual  facts  takes  rise.  Hence 
the  immense  importance  ascribed  to  that  act  of 
faith  by  which  the  individual  soul  connects  itself 
with  Christ  (justification  by  faith),  in  a  union  not 
of  intellect  but  of  heart.  Out  of  the  experiences 
of  this  inner  union  we  reach  the  true  knowledge  of 
Christ  (and  also  of  God).  '  The  man  now  who  so 
knows  Christ  that  Christ  has  taken  away  from  him 
all  liis  sin,  death  and  devil,  freely  through  His 
suffering,  he  has  truly  recognized  Christ  as  the  Son 
of  God'  (Luther,  Werke,  x\ii.  265).  And  when  we 
thus  know  Christ,  we  '  let  go  utterly  all  thoughts 
and  speculations  concerning  the  Divine  Majesty 
and  Glory,  and  hang  and  cling  to  the  humanity  of 
Christ  .  .  .  and  I  learn  thus  through  Him  to  know 
the  Fatlier.  Thus  arises  such  a  light  and  know- 
ledge within  me  that  I  know  certainly  what  God  is 
and  what  is  His  mind'  (.\.\.  i.  161).  It  is  in  the 
experience  of  redemption  that  we  know  the  Re- 
deemer. Modern  religious  theoiy  has  been  one 
long  endeavour  to  appropriate  this  position.  It 
has  sought  to  explicate  its  principles  (1)  by  a  more 
radical  and  penetrating  criticism  of  the  j)ast ;  (2) 
by  the  application  to  the  problems  of  Christian 
theism  of  other  categories  than  that  of  the  Nicene 
Oima  or  substance ;  (3)  in  particular  by  insistence 
on  moral  personality  as  the  determining  principle 
of  theological  construction. 

When  we  look  back  at  this  great  historical 
development,  it  is  impossible  not  to  be  struck  by 
the  parallel  between  the  age  of  earlj'  Christianitj% 
the  beginnings  of  the  Middle  Ages,  and  the  Re- 
formation. The  bankruptcy  of  the  pagan  world 
was  not  its  defect  but  its  merit.  It  had  generated 
a  universal  need  and  a  universal  mode  of  feeling 
which  were  incompatible  with  the  highest  culture 
which  had  generated  them,  but  which  were  destined 
ultimately  to  combine  that  culture  itself  with 
something  beyond,  viz.  the  new  Christian  ex|)eri- 
ence.  The  so-called  Dark  Ages  were  brought  on 
by  a  new  possibility  and  a  new  necessity,  the 
necessity  of  disciplining  the  mass  of  believers  to 
appreciate  that  combination  and  appreliend  its 
elements  of  culture  and  faith, — a  discipline  which, 
when  it  had  accomplished  its  ends,  left  its  subjects 
with  a  deeper  experience  than  ever,  and  a  more 


new  experience.  Their  successors  were  forced  by 
the  exigencies  of  their  ecclesiastical  situation  to 
limit  tliemselves  to  simple  defence  of  the  fact. 
Later  thinkers,  with  more  freedom,  and  under  the 
impulse  of  vast  movements  of  philosophy  and 
science,  have  gone  on  to  unfold  and  organize  its 
content.  There  is  much  that  is  still  obscure.  But 
we  may  venture  to  state  these  convictions,  that 
although  (1)  the  analysis  of  the  forces  that  have 
entered  into  the  development  of  Christian  doctrine 
in  the  past,  popular  at  present,  has  by  no  means 
vindicated  beyond  appeal  its  own  presuppositions  ; 
nor  (2)  has  it  yet  been  proved  that  the  predominant 
impulses  of  the  modern  spirit  are  sufficient  ade- 
quately to  mould  anew  all  the  facts  and  truths  of 
the  inherited  faith  ;  yet  (3)  it  is  indubitable  that 
broad  and  abiding  foundations  are  being  laid  for  a 
system  of  religious  thought  at  once  expressive  of 
the  religious  ideals  of  the  age,  and  consistent  with 
its  historical  and  scientific  temper.  In  elaborating 
that  system  it  is  already  clear  that  two  of  its 
fundamental  postulates  must  be  these :  (o)  the  prin- 
ciple that  Christian  truth  is  not  the  creation  of  the 
human  intellect,  nor  are  the  forces  of  human 
reason  and  emotion  sufficient  to  explain  it ;  and 
(/3)  the  principle  of  the  absolute  value  of  Christ's 
Person  as  the  norm  of  all  religious  experience. 
The  Christological  impulse  is  central.  In  the  moral 
personality  of  Christ,  men  are  seeking  better 
answers  to  the  old  problems.  The  past  answers 
are  not  wrong ;  it  is  that  they  are  not  relevant. 
And  this  because  of  the  growth,  not  of  science  but 
of  conscience.  The  type  of  religious  experience 
and  emotion  has  changed,  the  experience  is  deeper, 
the  emotion  richer.  Tlie  modern  mind  stands  less 
awe-struck,  perhaps,  before  the  Deity  of  Christ, 
but  it  is  more  conscience-struck  before  the  perfec- 
tion of  His  human  character,  within  the  sacred 
processes  of  which  it  wistfully  looks  for  the  mystery 
of  His  Divinity  and  the  secret  of  God. 

2.  Denial  of  the  doctrine  of  Christ's  Divinity. — 
(a)  History  and  motive. — Christianity  has  in  all 
the  stages  of  its  evolution  been  accompanied  by 
rationalistic  hesitation.  Based  on  experience,  it 
has  never  commended  itself  to  the  reason  un- 
enriched  by  that  experience.  A  strong  under- 
current of  antagonism  runs  through  the  centuries. 
It  is  possible  to  indicate  special  periods  when  the 
antagonism  becomes  more  pronounced.  Such 
periods  will  be  found,  on  the  whole,  coincident 
with  the  points  of  transition  in  the  advance  of  the 
doctrine.  It  may  well  be,  as  modern  Unitarians 
argue,  that  Christ  was  regarded  at  first  as  a  man 
simply,  'a  prophet  mighty  in  deed  and  word' 
(Lk  24") ;  but  their  contention  tliat  this  is  the 
point  of  view  of  the  NT  cannot  be  sustained.  The 
Epistles,  even  the  earliest,  start  from  the  Risen 
Christ,  and  the  Gospel  narratives  are  not  to  be 
comprehended  apart  from  the  initial  experience  of 
His  liigher  dignity.  Both  sets  of  books  owe  their 
origin  to  the  new  sense  as  to  His  Person  created 
by  the  new  sense  of  power  with  which  He  pos- 
sessed them.  Their  ostensible  design  is  to  set 
Him  forth  as  'Christ,'  or  'Lord,'  or  'Saviour;'  or 
'Word,'  etc.,  i.e.  as  something  more  than  man,  to 
whom,  as  such,  worship  is  paid.  They  show  their 
authors  busied  with  problems  as  to  tlie  constitu- 
tion of  His  Person.  Those  problems  emerged  from 
the  first,  and  among  Jewish  Christians  who  had  to 
make  clear  to  themselves  Christ's  true  position  if, 
in  His  lordship  over  them,  they  were  no  longer 
required  strictly  to  follow  the  law  of  Moses,  and 
were  now  required  to  conceive  of  the  transcendence 
of  God  permitting  fellowship  with  Him.  But 
those  were  problems  which  could  never  have 
emerged  at  all  unless  from  the  conviction  of  His 


DIVINITY  OF  CHEIST 


DIVORCE 


483 


suprahuman  rank.  The  opposition,  Ebionism,  was 
not  so  much  concerned  with  denial  of  His  superior 
dignity  as  directed  to  affirm  the  supremacy  of  the 
Father.  Its  protest  was  immensely  strengthened 
when  the  conflict  with  Gnostic  theories  necessitated 
an  alien  apologetic  with  an  unscriptural  termin- 
ology, derived  from  Greek  philosophy,  both  ob- 
noxious (and  probably  bewildering)  to  the  pious 
Jew. 

The  second  serious  outburst  of  hostility  was 
occasioned  by  the  Nieene  theologians.  In  Ebionism 
the  Jewish  temper  found  vent.  In  Arianism  it 
was  the  heathen  intellect.  Amid  Gentile  surround- 
ings christological  ideas  had  never  ceased  to  grow. 
Tradition,  Scripture,  experience,  combined  to 
deepen  the  conviction  of  Christ'.s  Divinity,  and  to 
enlarge  the  range  of  its  problems.  Hellenic  ration- 
alism confronted  tlie  Church  at  every  point.  It 
could  not  tolerate  the  thought  of  two  Gods  ;  and  it 
had  not  yet  grasped  the  unity  of  God  as  embracing 
eternal  distinctions  facing  inward  on  each  other. 
It  revolted  from  an  Incarnation  in  time  and  human 
form.  It  therefore  denied  to  the  Son  coequality 
with  the  Father.  Yet  everything  short  of  the  full 
deity  it  was  ready  to  acknowledge.  For  the  Arian 
Chnst  is  no  mere  man  :  He  is  much  more  than  man, 
only  not  God,  but  a  kind  of  demi-god,  the  loftiest 
of  all  creatures,  to  be  imitated  and  worshipped. 
The  idea,  from  its  wide  acceptance  in  that  age, 
must  have  embodied  certain  prevalent  mental  ten- 
dencies of  the  time.  Its  plausibility  depends  on 
the  idea  of  God  which  it  conceives,  viz.  that  of  an 
abstract,  otiose  Being,  beyond  interest  in  human 
things.  It  is  an  idea  as  far  removed  from  modern 
modes  as  from  the  Gospel  facts.  It  is  more  beset 
with  difficulty  than  the  conception  it  opposed.  In 
later  times  it  has  been  often  revived,  but  never 
effectively,  and  mainly  in  individual  opinion. 

The  sincere  emphasis  laid  on  the  proper  Divinity 
of  Christ  throughout  the  Middle  Ages  has  been 
continued  in  the  Churches  of  the  Reformation. 
The  opposition  has  been  correspondingly  sincere 
and  continuous.  Its  course  manifests  remarkable 
variation.  In  the  earlier  stages  it  was  determined 
chiefly  by  the  common  study  of  the  Scriptures  now 
distributed  to  the  multitudes.  Almost  every  phase 
of  former  heresy  was  reproduced,  but  without  real 
advance  in  thought  or  real  influence  on  orthodox 
opinion.  Afterwards  the  special  developments  of 
Reformed  theology,  notably  in  the  doctrme  of  the 
Atonement,  created,  both  by  natural  evolution  and 
by  reaction,  the  powerful  contrary  movement  of 
Socinianis^m.  The  Socinian  argument,  assuming 
that  tlie  Infinite  and  the  finite  are  exclusive  of 
each  other,  maintained  the  Incarnation  to  be  im- 
possible, rejected  the  pre-existence,  resurrection, 
and  ascension  of  Christ,  asserted  the  essential 
moment  of  His  person  to  be  His  human  nature, 
rendered  free  from  sin  by  the  Virgin-birth,  and 
free  from  ignorance  by  special  endowments  of 
knowledge.  Socinians  did  good  service  by  bring- 
ing into  clear  relief  the  Docetic  elements  in  the 
traditional  doctrine,  and  in  preparing  for  a  deeper 
appreciation  of  the  humanity  of  Christ  in  the  work 
01  salvation.  The  reverent  recognition  of  this 
last  (finitum  capax  infiniti),  that  the  human  is 
capable  of  bodying  forth  the  essence  of  the  Divine 
nature  as  distinct  from  merely  being  the  bearer  of 
the  Divine  attributes,  is  the  greatest  step  that  has 
been  taken  since  the  Nieene  definitions.  It  has 
incited  to  a  speculative  ardour,  and  secured  a  place 
for  the  application  of  scientific  method,  in  dealing 
with  the  contents  of  Christian  thought,  that  are 
rapidly  working  out  its  complete  reorganization 
and  reconstruction.  To  discern  and  describe  the 
ideal  unity  of  the  higher  spiritual  life  which  will 
exhibit  the  Divine-human  principle  of  Christ's 
Person  in  its  fulness,  is  tlie  task  of  the  modern 


Church.  The  spiritual  potentialities  of  the  human 
mind  are  earnestly  and  perseveringly  investigated. 
It  is  a  complex  process,  building  as  largely  on 
religious  induction  as  on  religious  insight,  and 
sustained  by  a  magnificent  confidence  in  the  native 
powers  of  reason  and  conscience.  But  tlie  same 
forces  which  have  impelled  to  new  Christological 
affirmation  have  infused  new  vigour  into  Christo- 
logical doubt.  The  representatives  of  Unitai-ianism 
have  been  active  and  influential.  They  stand  for  a 
much  more  humanitarian  view  of  Christ  than  either 
Arians  or  Socinians.  But  their  phrase,  '  the  pure 
humanity  of  Jesus,'  covers  much  diversity  of  con- 
viction. Some  are  almost  Trinitarians,  approach- 
ing Christ  on  the  Divine  side,  and  affirming,  in  a 
real  if  unorthodox  sense,  His  pre-existence,  unique- 
ness, sinlessnesa,  and  spiritual  authority.  Others 
contemplate  the  human  side,  believe  that  He  was 
naturally  born,  and  endowed  witli  qualities  and 
gifts  diflering  in  degree  and  not  in  kind  from  those 
which  all  men  enjoy  ;  that  His  character  was  a 
growth,  and  that  by  degrees  He  rose  out  of  tempta- 
tion and  error  into  the  serene  strength  of  a  pure 
and  noble  manhood ;  tliat  He  became  a  provi- 
dential teacher  and  leader  of  men  to  a  higher 
spiritual  development.  The  Unitarian  polemic 
killed  popular  Calvinism  ;  in  its  higher  forms  it  is 
rich  in  ethical  appeal. 

(b)  Failure.  —  Unitarianism  has  at  all  times 
failed  to  lead.  It  has  uniformly  won  a  certain 
measure  of  popularity  by  successfully  representing 
the  dominant  forces  pulsating  in  the  spirit  of  the 
age.  But  it  is  by  not  being  an  average  that  a 
man  becomes  a  guide.  Deniers  of  the  Divinity 
have  flourished  in  times  of  utter  confusion,  when 
whoever  would  attain  some  coherence  of  life  and 
thought  must  let  drop  much  that  is  held  in  solu- 
tion, and  show  the  path  of  progress  by  manifest- 
ing the  direction  of  change.  By  this  law  Catholic 
tlieology  has  stood ;  to  representative  insight  it 
has  added  prophetic  foresight.  The  sense  of  its 
insufficiency,  when  brought  home,  has  only  driven 
it  the  deeper  into  the  inner  secrets  of  that  experi- 
ence which  yielded  its  original  impulse,  and  so  it 
has  escaped  becoming  a  prey  to  the  narrower 
reason  and  limited  emotion  of  the  Unitarian 
schools.     See  also  art.  INCARNATION. 

Literature.— Besides  the  works  mentioned  in  tlie  body  ot  the 
article,  (1)  for  tlie  history  of  the  doctrine  the  following  are  to  be 
consulted  :  Dorner,  Doctrine  of  the  Person  of  Christ ;  Harnack, 
Hist,  of  Dogma  ;  A.  R6ville,  Hist,  of  the  Dogma  of  the  Deity  of 
Jesus  Christ ;  Hagenbach,  Hist,  of  Doctrines ;  Macarius,  Thi'ol. 
dogmatiqtie  orthodoxe ;  Hefele,  Hist,  of  the  Councils. 

(2)  For  the  dogmatic  aspects  of  the  subject  the  older  manuals 
of  Systematic  Theology  are  still  of  value,  e.g.  Shedd,  Dogmatic 
Theology  ;  Dorner,  System  of  Christian  Doctrine ;  Martensen, 
Christian  Dogmatics ;  cf.  also  Wilberforce,  Doctrine  of  the 
Incarnation ;  Dale,  Christian  Doctrine ;  Gore,  The  Incarna- 
tion ;  Strong,  Manual  of  Theology ;  and,  for  a  more  popular 
treatment,  Liddon,  Divinity  of  our  Lord  ;  Eck,  Incarnation. 
Of  recent  standpoint  are  Nitzsch,  Evangel.  Dogmatik ;  Clarke, 
Outline  of  Christ.  Theol.  ;  Denney,  Studies  in  Theology  ;  Hodg- 
son, Theologia  Pectoris ;  Bovon,  Dogmatique  ChrHienne,  and 
Thiol,  du  NT;  Fairbairn,  Christ  in  Modem  Theology;  Powell, 
Principle  of  the  Incarnation ;  H.  Holtzmann,  Lehrb.  der  XT 
Theologie. 

(3)  For  the  historical  data  of  Christ's  ministry,  works,  teach- 
ing, etc.,  see  the  numerous  Lives  of  Christ,  e.g.  by  Weiss, 
Beyschlag,  Keim,  Eenan,  O.  Holtzmann,  H.  von  Soden,  Sanday, 
Farrar,  Stalker ;  G.  Matheson,  Studies  in  Portrait  of  Christ. 
Shorter  dissertations  on  particular  points  form  a  large  litera- 
ture. Of  special  interest  are  those  which  attempt  to  define  the 
primitive  conception  of  Christ,  Such  as  Wrede's  Das  Mfssias- 
qeheimniss  in  den  ErnnqcHcn  ;  Stanton's  Mi'!.:iiah  ;  II.  \on 
Soden's  Urchristl.  Literatuni.'sch.-  I'tifi.l.ri-i's  r/,.-  Eurh,  Chris. 
tian  Conception  of  Christ:  S.-hmioders  llniiptim:!'!:  iif  der 
Leben-Jem  Forschung  :  Estliii  Carnenli-r's  l-'irsl  Thn-,'  '.'vsju'ls; 
Mackintosh's  Natural  Histuni  „nii.'  Clirislian  luliai.^ii. 

(4)  On  the  problem  of  Christ's  rcrson  for  modern  thon;;lit  lon- 

in  Modern  Theology,  and  Philosciphii  if  thi-  CiirislHi,:  ll.li.iidii  ; 
Adams  Brown's  Essence  of  Christianifi/ ;  Lnsinskv's  M'ar  Jrsits 
Gott,  Mensch,  Oder  tfbcrmensch];  KMhoil'sDasChristu.ijiroUem; 
Dykes  in  ExpT,  Oct.  1906-Jan.  1900.  A.  S.  MARTIN. 

DIYOKCE.— The  teaching  of  Christ  on  this  sub- 


484 


DIVORCE 


DIVORCE 


ject  in  the  earliest  Gosijel,  that  of  St.  Mark,  is 
clear  and  decisive.  It  is  given  in  lO'"".  The 
Pharisees  came  to  Hini  with  the  question,  Is  it 
lawful  for  a  husband  to  divorce  a  wife  ?  The 
Pharisees  tliemselves  could  have  had  no  doubt 
upon  the  point  thus  broadly  stated.  Divorce  was, 
as  they  believed,  sanctioned  and  legalized  by  Dt 
24'-  -.  But  they  debated  about  the  scope  and 
limits  of  divorce  (cf.  Bab.  GUti7i,  90a,  where  the 
views  of  the  Schools  of  Hillel  and  of  Shammai 
are  given.  The  former  allowed  divorce  for  trivial 
offences,  the  latter  only  for  immoral  conduct).  In 
putting  the  question  to  Christ,  the  Pharisees  there- 
fore had  an  ulterior  object.  They  came,  says 
St.  Mark,  '  tempting  him,'  knowing  probably  from 
previous  utterances  of  His  that  He  would  reply  in 
words  which  would  seem  directly  to  challenge  the 
Mosaic  Law  (cf.  His  criticism  of  the  distinctions 
between  '  clean '  and  '  unclean '  meats,  Mk  7''''-*). 
Christ  answers  with  the  expected  reference  to  the 
Law,  '  What  did  Moses  command  ? '  Tliey  state 
the  OT  position  :  Moses  sanctioned  divorce.  Notice 
how  nothing  is  said  as  to  grounds  or  reasons  for 
divorce.  Christ  at  once  makes  His  position  clear. 
The  law  upon  this  point  was  an  accommodation  to 
a  rude  state  of  society.  But  a  prior  and  higher 
law  is  to  be  found  in  the  Creation  narrative,  '  Male 
and  female  he  created  them'  (Gn  1"  LXX),  i.e. 
God  created  the  tirst  pair  of  human  beings  of  dif- 
ferent sexes  that  they  might  be  united  in  the  mar- 
riage bond.  Further,  it  was  afterwards  said  that 
a  man  should  leave  his  father  and  mother  and 
cleave  to  his  -wife,  and  that  he  and  his  wife  should 
be  one  Hesh.  In  other  words,  married  couples  were 
in  respect  of  unity,  as  the  first  pair  created  by  God, 
destined  for  one  another.  The  marriage  bond, 
therefore,  which  may  be  said  to  have  been  insti- 
tuted by  God  Himself,  must  be  from  an  ideal 
standpoint  indissoluble.  '  What  God  joined,  let 
not  man  sunder.' 

In  answer  to  a  further  question  of  His  disciples, 
the  Lord  enforces  this  solemn  pronouncement.  A 
man  who  puts  away  his  wife  and  marries  another 
commits  adultery.  A  woman  who  puts  away  her 
husband  and  marries  another  commits  adultery. 
Upon  this  point  Christ's  teaching  passes  beyond 
the  ordinary  conditions  of  Jewish  society.  No 
woman  could  divorce  her  husband  by  Jewish  law. 
But  that  is  no  reason  why  the  Lord  should  not 
ha^•e  expressed  Himself  as  Mk.  records.  There 
were  exceptional  cases  of  divorce  by  women  in 
Palestine  (cf.  Salome,  Jos.  A  nt.  xv.  \'ii.  10 :  '  She 
sent  him  [Costobar]  a  bill  of  divorce,  and  dissolved 
her  marriage  with  him,  though  this  was  against  the 
Jewish  l;iw.,  ■).  And  thrri-  i.  no  reason  why  He 
m:iv  iKii  Ikim'  Imtii  :i'-i|u;iiincil  w  it!i  the  possibility 
.,f  ,li^,„rr  l,v  «,.„„.„  in  tlir  WrM,  or  why,  even  if 
H.-  h.ul  not  thi-  ill  vi.'w,  H,.  „my  uot  haVe  \Wshed 
to  emphasize  His  point  by  stating  the  >vrongfulness 
of  divorce,  on  either  side,  of  the  marriage  bond. 

With  this  earliest  record  of  Christ's  teaching  the 
fragment  in  the  Third  Gospel  (Lk  16")  is  in  agree- 
ment :  '  Every  one  who  puts  away  his  wife  and 
marries  another  commits  adultery,  and  he  who 
marries  a  divorced  woman  commits  adultery.' 
Tliat  is  to  say,  the  marriage  Ijond  is  imlissoluble. 
The  husband  who  divor<«s  his  wife  :irnl  remarries 
commits  adultery.  And  the  nun  wlio  m.irries  a 
divorced  wife  commits  adultery.  l>ee:ius<'  she  is 
ideally  the  wife  of  her  still  living  (lir.si)  Imsband. 

In  the  First  Gospel,  however,  we  find  this  plain 
and  unambiguous  teaching,  that  divorce  is  incon- 
ceivable from  an  ideal  standpoint,  modified  in  a 
very  remarkable  way.  In  Mt  .5^^  occurs  a  saying 
parallel  in  substance  to  Lk  16'*,  but  with  the 
notable  addition  of  the  words,  '  except  for  the  sake 
of  unchastity  '  (irapeKTis  X670U  iro/ji/elos).  Tlius  modi- 
fied, the  Lord's  teaching  becomes  similar  to  that  of 


the  stricter  school  of  Jewish  interpreters.  The 
supposed  sanction  of  divorce  in  Dt  24'-  '^  is  practi- 
cally reaffirmed,  the  clause  n?i  nnj;,  which  formed 
tlie  point  at  issue  in  the  Jewish  schools,  being  inter- 
preted or  paraphrased  as  TrapexT-is  X670U  iropfdas,  by 
wliich  is  probably  meant  any  act  of  illicit  .sexual 
intercourse.  In  other  words,  Christ  here  assumes 
that  divorce  must  follow  adultery,  and  what 
He  is  here  prohibiting  is  not  such  divorce,  which 
He  assumes  as  necessary,  but  divorce  and  conse- 
quent remarriage  on  any  other  grounds.  It  might 
further  be  argued  that  the  words  irapeKToi  \^ov 
TTopvdas  att'ect  only  the  first  clause,  and  that  re- 
marriage after  divorce  even  on  the  ground  of 
adultery  is  here  prohibited.  But  if  this  were  in- 
tended, it  would  surelj'  have  been  explicitly  ex- 
pressed and  not  left  to  be  inferred.  And  such 
teaching  would  seem  to  be  illogical.  Because,  if 
adultery  be  held  to  have  broken  the  marriage  tie 
so  effectually  as  to  justify  divorce,  it  must  surely 
be  held  to  leave  the  ott'ended  husband  free  to  con- 
tract a  new  tie. 

In  view,  therefore,  of  Mk  10'"'-  and  Lk  16'8,  it 
must  appear  that  Mt  5^^  places  the  teaching  of 
Christ  m  a  new  light.  So  far  as  Lk.  is  concerned, 
we  might,  with  some  difficulty,  suppose  that  the 
exception  '  save  for  adultery '  was  assumed  as  a 
matter  so  obvious  that  it  needed  no  explicit  ex- 
pression. But  Ln  view  of  the  disputes  in  the  Jewish 
Schools,  this  is  very  unlikely.  And  Mk  lO'"'*,  with 
its  criticism  of  the  alleged  Mosaic  sanction  of 
divorce,  leaves  no  room  for  doubt  that  on  that 
occasion  at  least  Christ  pronounced  marriajre  to  be 
a  divinely  instituted  ordinance  which  should  under 
no  circumstances  be  broken  by  divorce.  It  would 
not,  of  course,  be  difficult  to  suppose  that  on  other 
occasions  the  Lord  Himself  modified  His  teaching. 
We  might  suppose  that  He  taught  His  disciples 
that,  whilst  from  an  ideal  standpoint,  marriage,  for 
all  who  wished  to  discern  and  to  obey  the  guidance 
of  the  Divine  will  in  life,  ought  to  be  an  indissoluble 
bond,  yet,  human  nature  and  society  being  what 
they  are,  divorce  was  a  necessary  and  expedient 
consequence  of  the  sin  of  adultery.  But  a  careful 
comparison  of  Mt  5*^  with  Mk  io  and  Lk  16  irre- 
sistioly  suggests  the  conclusion  that  the  exception 
in  Mt.  is  due  not  to  Christ  Himself,  but  to  the 
Evangelist,  or  to  the  atmo.sphere  of  thought  which 
he  represents,  modifying  Christ's  words  to  bring 
them  into  accordance  with  the  necessities  of  life. 
This  conclusion  seems  to  be  confirmed  when  we 
compare  Mt  19'-'-  wth  Mk  10"-.  It  is  on  many 
grounds  clear  that  the  editor  of  the  First  Go.spel  is 
here,  as  elsewhere,  re-editing  St.  Mark  (see  Expos. 
Times,  Oct.  1903,  p.  45,  and  '  St.  Matthew '  in  the 
Internal.  Crit.  Com.).  Contrast  with  the  logical 
and  consistent  argument  of  Mk.  stated  above,  the 
account  of  tlie  First  Gospel.  The  Pharisees  are 
represented  as  inquiring,  '  Is  it  la^vful  for  a  man  to 
put  away  a  wife  on  any  pretext  ? '  Christ  answers, 
as  in  Mk. ,  that  marriage  from  an  ideal  standpoint 

indissoluble.     The  Pharisees  appeal  to  the  Law 


and  secondary  character  of  the  legal  sanction  of 
divorce,  and  to  reaffirm  the  sanctity  of  marriage. 
But  instead  He  is  represented  as  affirming  that 
TTopvela  constitutes  an  exception.  Tims  He  tacitly 
takes  sides  with  the  severer  school  of  interpretation 
of  Dt  24,  and  acknowledges  the  permanent  validity 
of  that  Law  thus  interpreted  in  a  strict  sense,  which 
immediately  before  He  had  criticised  as  an  accom- 
modation to  a  rude  state  of  social  life.  This  incon- 
sistency shows  that  Mk.  is  liere  original,  and  that 
(card  TToo-ac  ahlav  and  fiij  iirl  Tropvdgi  are  insertions 
by  the  editor  of  Mt.  into  Mk.'s  narratives,  and 
confirms  the  otherwise  probable  conclusion  that 
irapcKTis  \6yov  Topvfiai  in  5^-  is  an  insertion  into  the 


DOCTOR 


DOCTRINES 


485 


traditional  saying  more  accurately  preserved  in 
Lk  16.  The  motive  of  these  insertions  can  only  be 
conjectured.  But,  in  view  of  other  features  of  the 
First  Gospel,  it  is  jirobable  that  the  editor  was  a 
Jewish  Christian  who  has  here  Judaized  Christ's 
teaching.  .Just  as  he  has  so  arranged  5'^'-"  as  to 
represent  Christ's  attitude  to  the  Law  to  be  that 
of  the  Rabbinical  Jews,  who  regarded  every  letter 
of  the  Law  as  permanently  valid,  so  here  he  has  so 
shaped  Christ's  teaching  about  divorce  as  to  make 
it  consonant  with  the  permanent  authority  of  the 
Pentateuch,  and  harmonious  with  the  stricter 
school  of  Jewish  theologians.  To  the  same  strain 
in  the  editor's  character,  the  same  Jewish-Christian 
jealousy  for  the  honour  of  the  Law,  and  for  the 
privileges  of  the  Jewish  people,  may  perhaps  be 
ascribed  the  emphasis  placed  on  the  prominence  of 
St.  Peter  (10-  Tpuros,  14-'»-3'  15'"  16"-"  IV^""  18^'), 
and  the  preservation  of  .such  sayings  as  10'-  ^-  ^. 
And  to  the  same  source  may  perhaps  be  attributed 
the  Judaizing  of  the  Lord's  language  in  such  ex- 
pressions as  '  the  kingdom  of  the  heavens,'  and  the 
'  Father  who  is  in  the  heavens.'  See,  also,  artt. 
Adultery  and  Marriage. 


DOCTOR.— The  English  versions  have  been  very 
inconsistent  in  the  translation  of  SiSdo-raXos,  vo/i-o- 
dtSda-KaXos,  pa/i^el,  vo/^ikSs.  They  have  generally 
followed  Wyclif,  who  used  mnister  for  SiJdir/caXos, 
and  doctour  only  once  (Lk  2*^).  In  the  American 
R V  '  master '  and  '  doctor '  disappear  as  tr.  of  5i5d(r- 
KoXos,  and  '  teacher '  is  uniformly  used.  The  AV 
has  '  teacher '  only  once  in  the  Uospels  ( Jn  3-)  out 
of  a  very  large  number  of  instances  of  SiMcr/caXos. 
The  English  RV  advances  to  only  four  uses  of 
'  teacher '  (Mt  23»,  Lk  2«,  Jn  3=-  ").  i/oMo5iodo-raXos 
occurs  only  three  times  in  the  NT  (Lk  5",  Ac  5^', 
1  Ti  1').  In  the  last  example  AV  has  '  teacher ' 
and  in  the  other  two  'doctor  of  the  law.'  Of 
course,  '  doctor '  is  simply  Latin  for  '  teacher,'  but 
the  American  RV  would  have  done  better  to  adopt 
'  teacher  of  the  law'  for  j'o/ioSiSdo-KaXos  also  (Lk  6", 
Ac  5»^). 

The  chief  English  Versions  translate  the  word  hihxa-xxke; 
in  Lk  2«  as  follows:  Wyclif,  tloclotirs;  Tindale,  doclours; 
Cranmer,  doctours',  Geneva,  doctours ;  Rheinis,  doctors;  AV, 
doctors;  RV,  doctors;  Noyes,  teachers;  Bible  Union  Revision, 
teachers;  American  RV,  teachers;  Twentieth  Century  NT, 
Teachers.  vo^SiSa(r:K«Xo;  in  Lk  517  and  Ac  .5^-*  is  translated 
doctour  of  the  lawe  by  Wyclif,  who  is  followed  with  variations 
in  spelling  by  Tindale.  Geneva,  Rheims,  AV  and  RV,  American 
RV.  The  American  Bible  Union  Revision  has  teacher  of  the  law 
in  Lk  6"  and  Ac  53*  also.  Twentieth  Century  NT  has  Teacher 
of  the  Law. 

It  would  seem  that  ro/ioStSda-KoKoi  should  be  trans- 
lated '  teacher  of  the  law,'  and  SidaaKa'Kos  '  teacher ' 
always.  The  Old  English  word  'doctor'  now 
often  signifies  a  title.  Pope's  phrase,  '  when 
doctors  disagree,'  referred  to  teachers.  fo/uKos  is 
used  once  in  Mt.  (22^)  and  eight  times  in  Lk.,  and 
is  practically  equivalent  to  po/j.oSiSdirKa'Ko!.  See 
Rabbi,  Ma.ster,  Teacher,  Laavyer. 

A.  T.  Robertson. 

DOCTRIHES — On  the  subject  of  doctrines  in 
connexion  with  the  Gospels  but  little  light  is  shed 
by  etymology. 


perly  an  adjective  and  denotes  '  of  or  belonftinfr  to  a  teacher 
(iiii^traciU!),  is  used  of  the  subject-matter  of  his  teaching,  as 
the  analogous  word,  which  is  found  in  the  NT  only  in  the 
neuter  form  lUyya,^,  'that  which  pertains  to  an  lit^yytU,-,' 
IS  used  m  the  sense  of  'the  good  news,'  '  the  gospel.'  The 
adjectival  form  h,i^a-xix,a,,  which  in  plur.  iii  classical  Greek 
means  a  teacher's  pay,  as  tijxyy(?.,av  means  the  reward  given  to  a 
messenger  of  good  news,  does  not  oi.-cur  in  the  NT.  The  word 
S.J«<r««x/«,  as  meaning  that  which  pert.ains  to  a  'lihtirxaf.K,  has 
in  the  NT  special  reference  to  the  autliorit\-  of  the  teacher.  It 
IS  never  used  of  our  Lord's  teaching,  and  only  seldom  of  that 


of  the  Apostles.  Further,  it  occurs  in  the  Gospels  only  in  those 
passages  (.Mt  15»,  Mk  7')  in  which  Jesus  accuses  the  scribes  of 
'  teaching  for  doctrines  the  commandments  of  men,'  and  quotes 
against  them  the  Septuagint  rendering  of  Is  291.*. 

Sih«x^f  the  common  word  for  the  act  of  teaching  or  that 
which  is  taught,  occurs  more  frequently.  It  is  used  with  refer- 
ence to  the  teaching  of  Jesus  in  a  general  sense,  as  where  the 
people  contrast  His  methods  with  those  of  the  scribes  (Mt  7*, 
Mk  122),  and  again  of  His  preaching,  aa  in  connexion  with  the 
parable  of  the  Sower,  where  St  Mark  says  (42),  '  And  he  taught 
them  many  things  in  parables,  and  said  unto  them  in  his 
doctrine.'  Here  Silaxv,  *  doctrine,'  exactly  corresponds  to 
iiihxff-Ktv,  'he  taught,'  and  the  phrase  evidently  means  'in  the 
course  of  his  teaching,'  or  '  in  the  course  of  his  remarks.' 

In  the  same  general  sense  the  word  occurs  again  in  Jn  1819, 
according  to  which  the  high  priest  examined  Jesus  concerning 
His  disciples  and  '  his  doctrine.'  With  reference  to  the  subject, 
matter  of  His  teaching  it  occurs  in  the  answer  of  Jesus  to  the 
question  of  the  Pharisees  (Jn  715.  17)^  •  How  knoweth  this  man 
letters  (ypx/Auctrcc),  having  never  learned  ? '  The  question  refers 
to  learning  as  it  was  understood  by  the  scribes,  that  is,  as  theo- 
logical science,  those  methods  of  Biblical  interpretation  in 
virtue  of  which  they  themselves  were  called  scribes  (y/txu- 
putrui),  i.e.  professional  theologians.  The  answer  of  Jesus  is, 
'My  doctrine'  (i  £,u.i,  5.1«;f.7)  is  not  mine,  hut  his  that  sent 
me ' ;  in  connexion  with  which  Alford  observes,  '  Here  only 
does  our  Lord  call  His  teaching  JjSaxsi,  as  being  now  among 
the  JiS«ir«otAoi,  the  Rabbis,  in  the  temple.'  Elsewhere  it  is 
applied  to  Christ's  teaching  by  the  Evangelists  themselves,  in 
whose  case  it  is  sufficiently  explained  by  the  general  use  of  the 
word  with  reference  to  teaching  of  any  kind,  and  by  the  fact 
that  Jesns  was  regarded  and  addressed  as  Rabbi  or  Teacher,  and 
accepted  the  title.  It  is,  however,  important  to  note  that,  except 
where  it  is  used  in  its  most  general  sense,  the  word  '  teaching  ' 
{iiiotxr,)  occurs  in  connexion  with  the  marked  contrast  which 


such  doctrines  and  methods  as  were  sanctioned  only  by  Rab- 
binical tradition,  and  laid  emphasis  upon  trivial  questions  to 
the  neglect  of  the  weightier  matters  of  the  Law  (Mt  159  || 
Mk  77). 

As  regards  the  doctrines  which  Jesus  taught  in 
His  own  unique  and  authoritative  way,  it  must  be 
carefully  borne  in  mind  that  He  did  not  formulate 
them  in  the  manner  of  a  systematic  theologian. 
They  cannot  therefore  be '  rightly  described  as 
'  doctrine'  in  the  technical  sense  of  the  word,  and 
still  less  as  '  dogma,'  as  that  was  understood  by 
theologians  of  a  later  period  ;  but  rather  as  '  ap- 
ophthegms,' to  use  the  expression  by  which  the 
LXX  rendered  the  words  of  Dt  32",  where  Moses 
says  of  his  teaching,  '  My  doctrine  shall  drop  as 
the  rain.'  There  the  Gr.  word  airbipeeyixa,  '  a  sen- 
tentious saying,'  is  made  to  represent  the  Heb.  npS 
'  that  which  is  received.'  This  word  '  apophthegm,' 
indeed,  corresponds  very  nearly  to  the  expression 
Ttt  \6yi.a,  '  the  sayings '  or  '  utterances  '  of  which 
Papias  speaks  as  forming  the  kernel  of  the  Gospels, 
and  which,  according  to  that  writer,  were  taken 
down  by  St.  Mark  as  the  amanuensis  of  St.  Peter. 
Such  a  term,  moreover,  would  aptly  apply  to  the 
style  of  Christ's  doctrine,  which,  as  Beyschlag 
remarks  (NT  Theol.  i.  31),  'is  conditioned  not 
merely  by  a  necessity  of  teaching,  but  rather 
springs  chiefly  from  the  nature  of  the  things  to  be 
communicated.  These  are  just  the  eternal  truths, 
the  heavenly  things  in  earthly  speech,  which  can 
be  brought  home  to  the  popular  understanding 
only  by  pictorial  forms.  It  is  therefore  the  mother 
speech  of  religion  which  Jesus  uses.'  As  has  been 
well  observed,  Christ's  teaching  has  to  do  with  His 
own  unique  personality,  with  a  Person  much  more 
than  with  doctrine  properly  so  called.  Again  to 
quote  the  words  of  Beyschlag  (op.  cit.  i.  29),  '  His 
teaching  is  that  in  His  appearance  and  active  life 
which  is  necessary  to  make  that  life  intelligible 
to  us,  and  without  which  the  Apostolic  teaching 
about  Him  would  be  only  a  sum  of  dogmatic 
utterances  which  we  could  not  comprehend  and 
whose  truth  we  could  not  prove, — a  result  not  a 
little  awkward  for  that  view  which  contrasts  "the 
teaching  of  Jesus  "  as  Christianity  proper  with  the 
Apostolic  "teaching  about  Christ.'  Taking  due 
account  of  these  considerations,  we  may  yet  gather 
from  the  sources  at  our  disposal,  the  simple  narra- 
tives of  the  Synoptic  Gospels  and  the  more  elabo- 
rate narratives  and  discourses  of  the  Gospel  of 


486 


DOCTRINES 


DOCTRINES 


John,  sufficient  materials  to  enable  us  to  piece 
together  a  scheme  of  the  doctrine  of  Jesus  as  He 
taught  it  and  as  it  was  understood  by  His  im- 
mediate followers. 

It  appears  most  convenient  to  start,  as  has  been 
suggested  by  Weiss,  with  the  doctrine  of  the  Ki>i(j- 
dom  of  Heaven  or  the  Kingdom  of  God. 

The  former  of  these  expressions  is  peculiar  to  the  Gospel  of 
,  Matthew.  The  latter  is  more  usual  in  the  NT.  Bej-schlag  sug- 
gests that  the  former  wiis  that  which  was  most  favoured  by  our 
Lord  Himself(');'.  (■>>.  i.  41').  However  that  may  be,  it  has  for  us 
the  special  interest  tliat,  as  .\lford  points  out,  it  is  common 
among  Rabbinical  u  rilers,  a  fact  which  seems  to  indicate  that  it 
was  admirably  adapted  to  illustrate  the  connexion  between  the 
current  expectations  of  the  Jews  and  the  message  addressed  to 
them  first  by  John  the  Baptist  and  then  by  Jesus,  to  the  effect 
that  the  promise  whose  fulfilment  they  expected  was  already 
in  course  of  being  fulfilled.     It  is  the  natural  link  between  the 


theocrati'-  ideas,  would  sufficiently  account  for  the  fact  that 
in  the  other  iJosjiels,  specially-  designed  to  meet  the  wants  of 
the  GenLiles,  to  w  honi  those  ideas  were  strange  and  unfamiliar, 
it  gave  place  to  the  alternative  expression,  *  Kingdom  of  God.' 
Practically,  howe\er,  the  two  expressions  mean  the  same  thing. 
The  earlier  form  may  possibly,  as  has  been  suggested,  have 
been  by  association  so  closely  connected  with  the  national  hope 
of  the  jews,  and  with  that  selfish  exclusiveness  which  led  them 
to  regard  themselves  as  in  a  peculiar  sense  the  elect  people  of 
God,  as  to  seem  to  countenance  the  old  narrow  \iews  of  Messiah's 
kingdom,  to  the  prejudice  of  the  more  spiritual  and  catholic 
teaching  of  Jesus  Himself,  which  impressed  itself  the  more 
strongly  upon  His  followers  the  more  successfully  thev  sought 
to  wm'  the  Gentiles  to  the  faith  of  Christ.  At  the  same 
time,  they  express  at  most  only  different  aspects  of  the  same 
truth— Kingdom  of  Heaven,  as  the  phrase  occurs  in  the  Gospels, 
denoting  a  condition  of  things  in  which  God's  will  is  done  on 
earth  as  it  is  done  in  heaveu,  while  Kingdom  of  God  refers 
directly  and  specially  to  God  as  the  Sovereign  of  that 


Tliis  conception  is  the  central  point  in  Christ's 
teaching,  by  reference  to  which  its  most  charac- 
teristic features  may  be  most  conveniently  gathered 
into  a  connected  system— as  its  relation  to  the  OT, 
its  revelation  of  the  nature  and  will  of  God,  its 
teaching  as  to  the  nature  and  person  of  Jesus  Him- 
self, its  doctrine  of  man,  and  of  God's  scheme  for 
man's  salvation.  This  central  theme  attracts  our 
notice  in  the  beginning  of  the  Gospels.  It  is  the 
subject  of  the  preaching  of  the  Baptist  and  also  of 
Jesus,  whose  message  is  briefly  summed  up  in  the 
words,  '  The  kingdom  of  God  is  at  hand :  repent 
ye,  and  believe  the  gospel'  (Mk  1").  The  Sermon 
on  the  Mount  itself  starts  with  the  idea  of  the 
Kingdom  of  Heaven,  and  the  same  thought  is  the 
subject  of  two  successive  petitions  in  the  Lord's 
Prayer,  '  Thy  kingdom  come.  Thy  will  be  done 
on  earth  as  it  is  in  heaven '  (Mt  5*- '"  II  Lk  6™,  ]Mt 
6'"  |[  Lk  11").  The  fundamental  teachings  of  Jesus 
naturally  group  themselves  round  this  central 
theme. 

1.  The  Kingdom  being  the  true  Israel  of  God, 
the  first  point  of  doctrine  that  suggests  itself  con- 
cerns the  King,  the  Supreme  Kuler  of  the  re- 
generated people.  We  have  thus,  as  the  words 
'  Kingdom  of  God '  indicate,  to  deal  first  with  Jesim' 
doctrine  of  God  the  Father.  Tliis,  it  is  to  be  care- 
fully noted,  is  not  a  new  theology.  The  God  whom 
Chnst  reveals  is  the  God  of  Abraham,  Isaac,  anil 
Jacob  (Mk  \-2^).  That  '  God  is  Spirit,'  and  can  be 
worshipped  only  '  in  spirit  and  in  truth,'  was  not 
first  taught  to  the  woman  of  Samaria  (Jn  4^). 
That  principle  lies  at  the  root  of  tlie  teaching  of 
the  Law  and  the  Prophets.  Jesus  accepted  tliis 
fundamental  doctrine,  while  at  the  same  time  He 
cleared  it  from  those  later  speculations  which 
tended  to  make  of  it  a  mere  abstraction,  or  to 
accentuate  the  idea  of  the  remoteness  and  incom- 
municalileness  of  the  Supreme  Being.  This  He 
did  by  describing  God,  just  as  the  Prophets  and 
the  Law  had  done,  as  infinitely  holy,  righteous, 
and  loving.  As  Sovereign  of  the  kingdom  of 
righteousness  and  love,  God  makes  holiness  and 


love  the  essential  laws  of  His  kingdom,  and  com- 
mands His  subjects  to  be  as  Himself.  In  par- 
ticular, Jesus  laid  emphasis  upon  the  Fatherhood 
of  God,  and  taught  His  disciples  to  trust  implicitly 
in  the  Father's  care  (Mt  6-^-^*  ||  Lk  12--""'),  and  to 
Ijelieve  that  that  care  extended  to  the  very  details 
of  their  daily  life ;  while  He  e.xhorted  them  not 
only  to  rely  upon  and  claim  His  compassion  and 
His  forgiving  love,  but  to  imitate  Him  in  respect 
of  these  attributes,  that  they  might '  be  the  chil- 
dren of '  their  '  Father  which  is  in  heaven  :  for  he 
maketh  his  sun  to  rise  on  the  evil  and  on  the  good, 
and  sendeth  rain  on  the  just  and  on  the  unjust' 
(Mt5«;  cf.  v.-«,  Lk  6»-**). 

2.  But  the  Kingdom  of  God,  as  Jesus  proclaims 
it,  resembles  the  Old  Testament  theocracy  in  this, 
that  the  Supreme  Sovereign  reveals  His  ivill  atid 
rules  His  kingdom  by  One  whom  He  has  sent  and 
to  whom  He  has  delegated  His  atithority.  This, 
the  hope  of  Israel,  is  an  ideal  which  is  already 
realizing  itself.  The  prophecy  of  the  Messiah  is 
fulfilled  in  the  person  and  work  of  Him  whom  God 
has  sent.  This  is  therefore  tlie  keynote  of  the 
gospel,  that  the  Christ  is  come  '  to  fulfil  all  right- 
eousness' (Mt  3'5),  to  give  effect  to  every  part  of 
the  constitution  of  the  Kingdom.  Tlius  Jesus 
appears  as  the  Divine  legislator.  In  this  capacity 
He  not  only,  as  in  His  parables,  explains  and 
illustrates  the  principles  of  His  government,  but, 
as  in  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount,  appears  as  the 
authoritative  expositor  of  the  Law  of  God.  He 
announces  that  He  is  come  not  to  destroy  but  to 
fulfil  the  Law  and  the  Prophets  (Mt  5"),  and  in 
this  connexion  shows  that  the  Law  is  not  satisfied 
wth  the  literal  and  formal  obedience  of  the 
Pharisees,  but  extends  to  thought  and  motive  ;  He 
warns  His  disciples  that,  except  their  righteous- 
ness shall  exceed  that  of  the  scribes  and  Pharisees, 
they  cannot  enter  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven  (vv.'*-=") ; 
and  in  other  passages  He  says  that  in  the  Day  of 
Judgment  men  shall  be  judged  so  strictly  that 
they  shall  give  account  of  every  idle  word,  and 
even  of  any  neglect  on  their  part  of  the  law  of 
kindness  and  compassion  towards  their  neighbours 
(Mt  11^  25«). 

This  aspect  of  Christ's  teaching,  whicli  is  specially 
prominent  in  the  Sj-noptic  Gospels,  has  been  repre- 
sented by  some  as  constituting  the  essence  of  His 
doctrine.  T>iit  ajiart  from  the  thought  that,  ac- 
cording to  this  view,  the  ethical  teaching  of  Jesus 
would  mean  the  enactment  of  a  new  code  of 
religion  and  morality  infinitely  more  difficult  than 
the  old  which  He  professed  to  explain,  it  is  abun- 
dantly clear  from  the  Synoptists  themselves,  no 
less  than  from  the  testimony  of  St.  John,  that 
Jesus  lays  far  more  stress  upon  the  subject  of  His 
own  Person  than  upon  any  ethical  doctrine  or  set 
of  doctrines.  In  the  Gospels  of  Matthew,  Mark, 
and  Luke,  as  distinctly  as  in  that  of  John,  Jesus 
lays  down  as  the  first  condition  of  membership  of 
the  Kingdom  the  duty  of  accepting  His  testimony 
concerning  Himself,  and  of  following  Him.  As  we 
read  in  the  Fourth  Gospel  that  'to  as  many  as 
received  him '  Jesus  '  gave  the  right  to  become 
children  of  God'  (Jn  1'-),  so,  according  to  the  testi- 
mony of  all  four,  tlie  Kingdom  of  God  is  come  in 
the  person  of  the  Messiah  (Mt  12-»  ||  Lk  11=").  The 
Person  of  Christ  is  the  centre  of  the  gospel. 

A  remarkable  feature,  indeed,  of  the  Gospels  is 
the  fact  that  the  essential  Divinity  of  Christ,  and 
even  the  express  doctrine  of  His  Messiahsliip,  ap- 
pear to  have  been  made  in  His  public  teaching 
the  subject  of  gradual  development  rather  than  of 
direct  and  explicit  teaching.  Jesus  suffered  not 
the  confession  of  His  Messiahsliip  by  the  demons 
whom  He  cast  out  of  those  who  were  possessed. 
And  although,  when  He  received  the  first  disciples, 
John  and  Andrew,  Peter,  Nathanael  and  Philip, 


DOCTRINES 


DOCTRINES 


487 


He  accepted  their  confession  that  in  Him  they  had 
found  the  Messiah  (Jn  1*'"'"),  it  was  in  but  few 
cases  that  He  declared  Himself  in  so  many  words 
to  be  the  Christ  of  God  ;  as,  for  example,  in  that  of 
His  conversation  with  the  woman  of  Samaria  (Jn 
4-«) ;  again  when  He  declared  to  His  townsmen  in 
Nazareth  that  Isaiah's  prophecy  of  the  Messiah  as 
the  great  preacher  and  liealer  was  fulfilled  in 
Himself  (Lk  4-^)  ;  and  again  when  He  answered  the 
doubting  question  of  the  Baptist,  '  Art  thou  he  that 
should  come,  or  do  we  look  for  another? ',  by  pointing 
to  the  testimony  of  His  teaching  and  of  His  works 
of  mercy  (Mt  ll^""  ||  Lk  V^--^).  For  the  rest,  Jesus 
allowed  the  thought  of  His  Bivine  claims  to  grow 
in  the  minds  of  His  disciples,  and  it  was  not  until 
within  a  few  months  of  His  death  that  Peter  in  their 
name  confessed  His  Messiahship,  when  Jesus,  in 
welcoming  their  faith,  expressly  declared  that  it  liad 
come  to  them  hy  revelation  from  God.  Neverthe- 
less, throughout  His  ministry  the  personal  element 
was  the  most  prominent  feature  of  His  teachin";. 
From  first  to  last  He  asked  of  those  to  wliom  He 
spoke,  not  faith  in  doctrines  so  much  as  trust  in 
Himself  as  the  Sent  of  God  who  alone  could  reveal 
the  Father's  will. 

And,  notwithstanding  the  fact  that  He  left  the 
full  recognition  of  His  claims  to  develop  gradually 
in  the  minds  of  His  disciples.  His  testimony  con- 
cerning Himself  contained  implicitly  all  the  ele- 
ments of  a  complete  revelation  of  His  Divine 
claims.  Tlius  He  familiarized  His  disciples  with 
the  use  of  names  and  titles,  as  '  Son  of  Man,'  '  He 
who  should  come,'  '  Son  of  God,'  '  the  Sent  of  God,' 
'the  Holy  One  of  God,'  'the  Christ,'  which,  they 
gradually  came  to  recognize  as  indicative  of  those 
claims.    (See  also  Names  and  Titles  of  Christ). 

3.  Witli  regard  to  the  Kingdom  itself,  Jesus 
spoke  of  it  noio  as  a  present  thing,  again  as  that 
which  should  be  realized  in  the  future.  So  He  said 
at  one  time,  '  Theirs  is  the  kingdom  of  heaven ' 
(MtS'-'"),  and  again,  'Neither  shall  they  say,  Lo 
here !  or,  lo  there !  for,  behold,  the  kingdom  of  God 
is  within  you'  (Lk  17°')-  Again  He  spoke  of  the 
Kingdom  as  future,  and  that  in  connexion  with  the 
final  coming,  the  Parousia,  of  the  Son  of  Man  ;  so 
in  the  parables  of  the  Great  Supper  (Lk  14'^-  -*),  of 
the  Marriage  Feast  (Mt  22i-"),  of  the  Ten  Virgins 
(Mt  25'-^').  In  this  there  was  no  real  contradiction, 
for  the  central  conception  of  the  Kingdom  is  that 
of  a  gradual  development,  the  future  growin"  out 
of  the  present.  We  recognize  this  in  several  con- 
spicuous parables,  and  no  less  in  the  practical 
means  which  Jesus  adopted  of  founding  and  de- 
veloping His  Church,  notably  in  His  choice  and 
training  of  the  Twelve  as  the  nucleus  of  that 
society  of  which  the  Kingdom  should  consist.  Of 
the  former,  the  most  important  in  this  connexion 
are  the  parables  of  the  Sower  (Mt  IS'-^'jl  Mk  4'-=<'|| 
Lk  8'-'=),  of  the  Seed  growing  secretly  (Mk  4=«-=9), 
of  the  Mustard  Seed  and  the  Leaven  (Mt  IS''-**!! 
Mk  4™-»2).  In  these  the  obvious  thought  is  that 
the  Kingdom  is  already  here,  but  only  in  germ,  a 
secret,  but  a  present  and  a  growing  thing,  the  com- 
plete realization  of  which  only  the  day  of  the  Lord 
shall  declare.  The  Kingdom  is  thus  not  such  as 
the  common  acceptation  of  the  Messianic  hope  had 
led  Israel  to  expect,  a  thought  of  which  even  the 
disciples  found  it  hard  to  disabuse  their  minds — an 
external  condition  of  society  into  which  they 
should  one  day  be  ushered  as  a  matter  of  favour- 
itism or  of  covenant  right,  and  in  which  there 
were  places  of  pre-eminence  which  could  be  the 
objects  of  earthly  ambition,  or  a  condition  of  tem- 
poral benefit  which  could  be  enjoyed  in  the  future 
irrespective  of  spiritual  fitness.  Instead  of  this  it 
is  a  spiritual  blessing,  the  gift  of  God  to  receptive 
souls,  for  the  individual  and  for  the  community  of 
believers  a  condition  of  heart  and  life  gradually 


developed  in  them  by  the  power  of  Divine  love. 
So  closely  i.s  future  blessedness,  the  inheriting  of 
the  Kingdom,  dependent  upon  present  faith  and 
patient  persevering  eflbrt,  that  our  Lord  is  careful 
to  warn  His  disciples  that  while  'it  is '  their 
'  Father's  good  pleasure  to  give '  them  '  the  king- 
dom' (Lk  12'=),  it  is  possible  for  the  most  highly 
favoured  to  come  short  of  it,  and  '  there  are  last 
which  shall  be  first,  and  there  are  first  which  shall 
be  last'  (Lk  13» ;  cf.  Mt  19*  20"'||Mk  10",  Mt 

2131.32). 

4.  In  this  Kingdom  the  conditions  of  membership 
are  manifestly  of  tlie  first  importance.  These  are 
(a)  Repentance,  and  (b)  Faith  in  God  and  in  Jesus 
Christ  wliom  He  has  sent. 

Repentance  (/xerdi/oia)  means  a  complete  and 
radical  change  of  heart  and  life,  a  change  so 
thoroughgoing  that  it  can  best  be  characterized 
by  the  word  '  conversion,'  a  turning  round.  '  Ex- 
cept ye  be  converted  (trrpix^^re,  '  turn '),  and  become 
as  little  children,  ye  shall  in  no  wise  enter  into  the 
kingdom  of  heaven '  (Mt  18'),  is  the  teaching  of 
Jesus  according  to  the  Synoptics,  to  which  His 
words  to  Nicodemus  in  the  Fourth  Gospel  almost 
exactly  correspond  :  '  Except  a  man  be  born  again 
(or  'from  above,'  &vudev],  he  cannot  see  the  king- 
dom of  God  '  (Jn  3').  Such  a  complete  change  as 
these  words  imply— ' change  of  mind'  (Mfrctfoia), 
'convert,'  'turn  round'  (iwinTpiipiiv,  Mt  13'"), 
'  new  birth  '  or  '  birth  from  above '  (yivvT]6^  dvuffef, 
Jn  3'),  is  necessary  for  all,  as  Jesus  shows  by  ad- 
dressing His  teaching  on  this  theme  not  only  to 
Pharisees  like  Nicodemus,  but  to  His  own  disciples 
— notably  in  the  parable  of  the  Unmerciful  Servant 
(Mt  18-'"''),  in  which,  in  answer  to  a  question  of 
Peter,  He  likens  the  condition  of  all  recipients  of 
the  Divine  formveness  to  that  of  a  man  who  owes 
a  debt  of  ten  thousand  talents,  clearly  meaning  by 
that  the  infinitude  of  man's  obligation  to  God.  So 
universal  and  so  heinous  is  sin  according  to  the 
teacliing  of  Jesus.  Sin  springs  from  the  heart 
(Mt  IS^-^oyMk  7'-"--'),  from  its  natural  alienation 
from  God,  from  the  infirmity  of  the  fiesh  (Mt  26'"|l 
Mk  14^*).  Man  is,  moreover,  tempted  to  sin  by 
Satan  as  the  author  of  evil  ;  thougli  Jesus  does  not 
teach  any  special  doctrine  of  sin,  or  explain  how 
evil  first  came  into  existence,  but  deals  only  with 
sin  itself  as  an  awful  and  universal  fact.  Then,  as 
all  are  tainted  with  the  universal  disease,  and  as 
the  righteousness  which  God  demands  must  extend 
to  the  whole  nature,  not  merely  to  word  and  action 
but  to  the  heart  and  motives,  it  follows  that  man 
is  lost,  unable  to  save  himself,  and  therefore  Jesus 
descrilses  His  mission  as  that  of  seeking  and  saving 
thelost(Mtl8",cf.  Lk  19'»).  All  are  thus  dependent 
upon  the  sovereign  pardoning  grace  of  God,  and  so 
Jesus  says,  '  No  man  can  come  unto  me,  excejjt  the 
Father  which  hath  sent  me  draw  him '  (Jn  6"). 
But  that  this  grace  is  not  restricted  in  its  opera- 
tion by  any  hard  and  fast  decree  of  election,  Jesus 
teaches  by  the  manner  in  whicli  He  describes  His 
mission,  which  is  that  of  seeking  the  lost  '  till  he 
find'  them  (Lk  IS''),  and  by  the  universal  call 
which  He  addresses  to  the  weary  and  heavy-laden 
(Mt  11=8). 

While  we  may  for  convenience'  sake  distinguiNli 
between  Repentance  and  Faith,  Jesus  so  presents 
them  as  to  represent  Faith  as  the  source  of  Re- 
pentance, the  one  involving  the  other  and  leading 
to  it.  Thus,  to  take  one  illustration,  the  re- 
pentance which  in  His  conversation  with  Nico- 
demus He  describes  as  a  new  birth,  is  spoken  of  in 
the  same  discourse  as  the  result  of  an  act  of  faith 
in  Himself,  which  He  likens  to  the  simple  look 
directed  by  the  dying  Israelites  to  the  Brazen 
Serpent  whicli  Moses  lifted  up  in  the  wilderness 
(Jn  S").  As  Weiss  has  well  put  it  {Bib.  Theol.  of 
the  NT,  i.  97)— 


DOCTRINES 


DOCTRINES 


'  The  new  revelation  of  God  which  is  brought  in  the  message 
concerning  the  Kingdom  of  God  spontaneously  works  the  re- 
pentance which  Jesus  demands.  God  does  not  demand  that 
man  should  meet  Him ;  He  Himself  meets  man  with  gracious- 
ness,  and  thereby  does  the  utmost  that  lies  in  His  power  to 
make  man  capable  of  the  repentance  in  which  He  has  His  greatest 
joy  (Lk  ISJ-lii).  He  does  not  make  Hie  revelation  of  salvation 
dependent  upon  the  conversion  of  the  people,  as  in  the  preach- 
ing of  the  prophets  ;  He  will  work  this  conversion  by  the  reve- 
lation of  His  grace.* 

Thus,  in  the  Gospel  of  John,  Jesus  makes  faith 
in  Himself  the  condition  of  salvation  :  '  He  that 
believeth  hath  everlasting  life  '  ( Jn  \^) ;  and  in  line 
with  such  declarations  is  that  doctrine,  character- 
istic of  the  Johannine  discourses,  which  seems  to 
represent  faith  as  knowledge,  the  acceptance  of 
the  testimony  of  the  Son  of  God  (Jn  S'*'-).  All 
that  this  means  is  that  to  accept  Christ's  testi- 
mony, and  to  accept  Christ  Himself  as  the  revela- 
tion of  the  Divine  grace,  is  to  become  a  child  of 
God  and  a  member  of  the  Kingdom  of  God. 

Again,  Jesus  demands  not  only  faith  and  re- 
pentance, but  insists  as  strongly  as  Jolm  the 
Baptist  or  the  prophets  of  the  OP  upon  tlie  im- 
portance of  living  proofs  of  faith,  and  of  fruits 
meet  for  repentance  (Mt  3»-"llLk  3'^-,  Mt  7-'-"  II 
Lk  6"'^).  Christ's  disciples  must  prove  their  con- 
version and  their  right  to  the  privileges  of  the 
Kingdom  of  God  by  their  '  moral  imitation  of 
their  Heavenly  Father';  sonship  must  show  itself 
by  tlie  family  likeness.  But  as  that  ideal  is  far 
beyond  tlie  possibility  of  present  attainment,  the 
Christian  life  is  described  as  a  steep  and  narrow 
path,  to  press  along  wliich  requires  constant  eHbrt 
and  unremitting  watchfulness  and  prayer  (Mt 
7i3-2>  II  Lk  13=^  e-"! ;  Mt  7"-='  II  Lk  e"-"). 

5.  With  regard  to  the  significance  of  the  Death 
and  Resurrection  of  Jesus  as  the  ultimate  condi- 
tions of  the  establishment  of  the  Kingdom  of  God, 
our  Lord  treated  that  doctrine  as  He  did  His 
Messianic  claims  in  respect  of  His  Divine  nature. 
It  is  represented  in  the  Gospels  as  the  subject  of 
gradual  development,  as  a  truth  not  at  the  begin- 
ning clearly  made  known  even  to  the  most  favoured 
disciples,  but  taught  first  by  suggestions  and  figures 
more  or  less  veiled,  then  by  warnings  and  predic- 
tions, wliich  became  clearer  as  the  end  drew  near, 
to  the  ett'ect  that  Jesus  must  die.  Still  it  is  pre- 
sent from  the  first,  though  only  in  germ,  and 
though  it  is  noted  as  that  part  of  their  Master's 
teachiiiL;  whicli  tlic  disciples  were  most  slow  to 
apprelii  ihI.  rhii-.il  is  represented  as  having  been 
suggl■^l'■il  -o  ,iil\  ;ls  in  the  time  of  the  Baptist, 
whose  «..i.ls,  •  l;,liold  the  Lamb  of  God,'  first 
led  John  and  Andrew  to  follow  Jesus  (Jn  !="■  '^-SJ). 
At  a  later  period  Jesus  declared  in  express  terms 
that  '  the  Son  of  Man  came  not  to  be  ministered 
unto,  but  to  minister,  and  to  give  his  life  a 
ransom  for  many'  {Xurpov  avrl  ttoXXwi'),  where  the 
death  of  Jesus  as  a  sacrifice  of  substitution  appears 
to  be  distinctly  spoken  of  (Mt  20-^  li  Mk  10'=).  The 
doctrine  that  salvation  can  come  only  through  the 
voluntary  suft'erings  and  death  of  Jesus  is  so  clearly 
tauglit  by  our  Lord's  later  utterances  as  recorded 
in  all  the  Gospels,  and  particularly  in  the  Fourth, 
as,  for  example,  in  tlie  discourse  on  the  Bread  of 
Life  ('the  bread  wliich  I  will  give  is  my  flesh, 
which  I  will  give  for  the  life  of  the  world,'  Jn  6"), 
in  the  discourse  on  the  Good  Shepherd  ('the  good 
shepherd  giveth  his  life  for  the  sheep,'  10"-  '^ 
cf.  vv."-"),  etc.,  that  it  is  hardly  nece.s.sary  to 
enumerate  them.  One  of  the  .';trongest  proofs 
that  the  disciples  understood  Jesus  to  lay  special 
empliasis  upon  the  necessity  of  His  death  as  an 
atoning  sacrifice,  lies  in  the  fact  that  so  large  a 
portion  of  the  Gospels  is  devoted  to  the  narrative 
of  the  sufferings,  death,  and  resurrection  of  Jesus  ; 
while  the  full  account  which  all  the  Synoptists  give 
of  the  institution  of  the  Lord's  Supper  (Mt  26-^-^  \\ 
Mk  14~-='||Lk  22"-="),  and  particularly  the  signi- 


ficant words  of  Jesus  recorded  by  St.  Matthew 
(26=8),  'This  is  my  blood  of  the  [new]  covenant, 
whicli  is  shed  'for  many  for  the  remission  of  sins,' 
show  that  by  appointing  this  ordinance  by  which 
to  'show  forth  liis  death,'  as  St.  Paul  expresses  it 
(1  Co  11-''),  Jesus  singled  out  this  part  of  His  work 
as  constituting  the  central  truth  of  His  manifesta- 
tion to  men,  and  summing  up  and  applying  the 
whole. 

Again,  like  the  Apostles  in  the  Acts  and  the 
Epistles,  all  four  Evangelists  represent  the  Resur- 
rection as  the  necessary  seal  of  Christ's  atoning 
work,  confirming  His  victory  over  death  and  him 
that  had  the  power  of  death,  and  as  a  testimony 
to  the  Father's  acceptance  of  the  sacrifice.  So 
Jesus,  in  foretelling  His  death,  conjoined  with  the 
prediction  the  assurance  that  He  should  rise  again 
the  third  day.  The  Resurrection  is  the  necessary 
complement  of  the  Atoning  Death. 

6.  Closely  connected  with  these  fundamental 
teachings  of  the  Kingdom  of  God  and  the  condi- 
tions of  its  realization  are  those  which  relate  (a) 
to  the  ffrowth  and  maintenance  of  the  Kingdom 
after  Christ's  Ascension,  and  (6)  to  the  final  con- 
summation and  the  judgment  of  the  world. 

(a)  According  to  all  the  Gospels,  the  specialty  of 
Christ's  mission,  as  that  was  revealed  to  John  the 
Baptist,  was  that  He  should  baptize  with  the  Holy 
Ghost  (Mt  3'i||Mk  l«||Lk  3i«;  cf.  Jn  I»).  All 
relate  the  descent  of  the  Holy  Spirit  at  the 
Baptism  of  Jesus  (Mt  3"-"||Mk  p-"llLk  3'-'-"). 
John  the  Baptist  testifies  (Jn  P'-  ^)  that  He  upon 
whom  the  Spirit  descended  and  abode  is  He  who 
baptizeth  with  the  Holy  Ghost.  Jesus  attributed 
His  power  to  cast  out  demons  to  the  Spirit  of  God 
(Mt  1228).  That  the  Spirit  thus  spoken  of  is  a  Person, 
and  as  such  to  be  distinguished  from  Christ,  is  to 
be  inferred  from  the  solemn  warning  which  Jesus 
addressed  to  those  who  attributed  His  miracles  of 
exorcism  to  Satanic  agency,  when  He  said  that 
blasphemy  against  the  Son  of  Man  should  be  for- 
given, but  that  to  blaspheme  against  the  Holy  Ghost 
was  an  unpardonable  sin  (Mt  12"- '-'[I  Mk  S'^"- II  Lk 
12'").  Jesus  taught,  how  ever,  that  the  prediction  of 
John  was  to  be  fulfilled  only  after  the  Son  of  Man 
was  glorified.  Tlius  we  read,  with  reference  to  the 
promise  that  the  Spirit  should  be  in  believers  a 
perennial  fountain  of  grace,  '  This  spake  he  of  the 
Spirit  which  they  that  believe  on  him  should 
receive :  for  the  Holy  Ghost  Avas  not  yet  given ; 
because  that  Jesus  was  not  yet  glorified  '  (Jn  V'^^ 
And  Jesus  Himself  says  (16')  to  the  disciples,  'It 
is  expedient  for  you  that  I  go  away :  for  if  I  go  not 
away,  the  Comforter  will  not  come  unto  you  ;  but 
if  I  depart,  I  will  send  him  unto  you.'  I'he  office 
of  till-  Spirit  is  to  abide  with  the  disciples  as  the 

sour t  Ljiace  i~'^\.  to  bring  to  their  remembrance 

tlic  t.  :,,  Innu  <'f  .Tesus  (14-"  15=«)  and  guide  them 
into  :ill  tiuih  I  Hi''),  to  give  them  power  to  dis- 
charge tlii'ii  spuitual  functions  (20=''-^)  as  leaders 
and  teachers  of  the  Church,  and,  as  the  Spirit  of 
wisdom  and  utterance,  to  inspire  them  to  testify 
faithfully  and  courageously  for  Christ  in  presence 
of  their  persecutors  (Mt  lO^illMk  13"|lLk  12"-"). 
Further,  His  function  is  to  '  reprove  the  world  of 
sin,  of  righteousness,  and  of  judgment'  (Jn  16*""). 
With  Christ's  teaching  concerning  tlie  Spirit  His 
revelation  of  God  was  complete,  and  accordingly, 
in  one  of  His  last  discourses  after  the  Resurrection, 
He  commanded  His  Apostles  to  '  make  disciples  of 
all  nations,  baptizing  them  in  the  name  of  the 
Father,  and  of  the  Son,  and  of  the  Holy  Ghost ' 
(Mt  28"). 

(/;)  Our  Lord's  teaching  concerning  the  final  con- 
summation of  the  Kingdom  of  God  mny  be  briefly 
summarized.  The  disciples  were  instructed  to  live 
in  constant  expectation  of  His  Second  Coming 
(Mt  24«-"||Mk    13»-"||Lk   l2='-«;    cf.    Mt   25"). 


DOG 


DOMINION 


That  might  occur  at  any  time.  His  coming 
should,  according  to  tlu'  |,iii]>lii-rii'>  cf  tlic  ( iT.  lie 
heralded  by  certain  .si;;nN  in  tin-  wmlil,  Ky  tniimll 
and  distress  among  the  ii.il  inn,,  ,inil  liy  lioit.'iil- 
in  nature,  earthquakes,  stoniis,  and  tin-  liki'  (Mt 
2429ff.  II  Mk  13=^T-  II  Lk  2r-'"f-).  Nevertheless  Ho 
should  come  as  a  thief  in  the  night,  and  surprise 
the  worldly  and  the  careless  in  the  midst  of  their 
business  or  their  pleasure  (Mt  24*^*-|!l'k  17"'). 
Then  also  Christ  should  by  His  angels  '  gather 
together  his  elect  from  the  four  winds'  (Mt  243') 
for  the  purpose  of  taking  them  to  Himself  and 
saving  them  from  destruction  (Lk  17^' ■''')■  In 
connexion  witli  tliis,  Jesus  spoke  also  of  a  time 
of  sifting,  at  which  all  unworthy  members  should 
be  cast  out  (Mt  13^"-  «■  «'■  22"-'"  2o'»-'-,  Lk  13^). 
Finally,  after  the  Kingdom  had  been  thus  purified 
shoulcf  come  the  ultimate  consummation.  Jesus 
sliould  appear  as  the  Judge  of  all  nations  (Mt  25""'"), 
coming  in  the  clouds  (Mt  26"  ||  Mk  14«-  II  Lk  22«9)  to 
rewarcl  the  righteous  with  eternal  bliss  in  heaven 
and  to  sentence  the  wicked  to  eternal  perdition 
(Mt  as*"-").     See  also  Leading  Ideas. 

Literature.  —  Cremer,  Bih.-ThpnI.  Lrx.  .s\rc.  hihv.^x^kiBc, 
hihut^v, ;  Comm.  of  Alford  .^iid  Me^er ;  Bevschla^,  .V7'  Throf. 
(2nd  Eng.  ed.)  i.  28-156.  ii.  207-472';  Schmid.  Bihlicnl  Tfieofoqi/ 
qf  the  XT,  63-90  ;  Weiss,  Biblical  T/imloijij  »f  the  NT,  (13-90. 

Hugh  H.  Currik. 
DOG.— See  Animals,  p.  64. 

DOMINION.— The  word  '  dominion  '  occurs  only 
once  in  the  AV  of  tlie  Gospels,  as  part  of 
the  phrase  'exercise  dominion  over'  (Ka.Ta.KvpiiLv- 
ovaiv),  in  that  passage  in  the  Gospel  of  Mattliew 
(20=5)  which  records  our  Lord's  rejily  to  the 
ambitious  request  of  Salome  on  behalf  of  her 
sons,  and  the  words  which  He  addressed  to  the 
disciples  at  the  time.  Tlie  RV  of  this  p.issage,  as 
of  the  parallel  text  in  Mark  (liV-),  is  '  lord  it  over.' 
The  same  idea  is  expressed  in  a  similar  passage 
in  Luke  (22==),  which  gives  Christ's  words  at  the 
Last  Supper  with  reference  to  tlie  dispute  among 
His  disciples  as  to  precedence,  by  the  simple  verb 
KvpteiomiD,  '  exercise  lordship  over '  (RV  '  have  lord- 
shin  over'). 

Again,  in  all  three  passages  the  verbs  which  are 
so  translated  are  followed  in  the  parallel  clause  of 
the  verse  by  the  words  '  exercise  authority  over ' 
or  '  upon  '  (Mt  20==  AV  and  RV  ||  Mk  lO-"-  AV  and 
RV,  Lk  22=5  AV),  'have  authority  over'  (Lk  22=^ 
RV),  representing  the  words  of  the  original  Kar- 
eJoixridfoiKrii',  ^JoOTids'oi'T-fS.  The  word  '  .ml  Inn  il  y  ' 
[i^ovala)  and  the  verbs  formed  from  it  (Im^  njv  I 
themselves  for  consideration  in  connnxn.M  v,  iih 
the  word  rendered  'dominion'  in  the  i>a^-,.ign  in 
Matthew. 

1.  The  passages  quoted  from  the  Synoptics  illu- 
strate a  characteristic  feature  of  the  Gospels,  the 
manner  in  which  they  represent  Jesus  as  post- 
poning the  assertion  of  His  kingly  rights,  and,  in 
connexion  with  this,  the  express  teaching  which 
they  attribute  to  Him  as  to  the  nature  of  the 
dominion  which  He  claimed.  Thus,  as  He  with- 
stood the  temptation  of  Satan  (Lk  4'')  to  assume 
the  royal  sceptre  which  belonged  to  Him  as  Son  of 
God,  and  to  reign  as  the  Divinely  appointed  king 
of  a  visible  and  temporal  realm,  so  He  resisted,  as 
a  repetition  of  that  temptation,  every  suggestion 
orajjpeal  that  was  made  to  Him,  by  the  people  or 
by  His  disciples,  formally  and  publicly  to  appear  as 
the  Messiah.  He  would  not  suffer  'the  people  of 
Galilee  to  make  Him  a  king  (Jn  &^).  He  declared 
to  Pilate  that,  although  royal  authority  was  His 
by  right.  His  kingdom  was  'not  of  this  world,  and 
was  therefore  not  to  be  won  or  maintained  and 
defended  by  temporal  weapons  ( Jn  IS'*'-  ^). 

Now  the  texts  which  have  been  quoted  from  the 
Synoptics  may  be  regarded  as  the  loci  classici  of 


[  the  teaching  of  Jesus  with  reference  to  the  nature 
(if  the  sovereigntj'  clainird  by  Him,  and  to  the 
principle  of  that  spirilnal  dnniinion  of  which  He 
pcdce.  They  occur  in  r,niin'\i..n  with  what  the 
(iospels  tell  us  reganliiig  the  Messianic  expecta- 
tions of  the  Twelve,  who,  like  most  of  their 
countrymen,  anticipated  in  the  near,  and  even,  at 
times,  in  the  immediate,  future,  the  visible  estab- 
lishment of  the  personal  reign  of  Christ  as  Prince 
of  the  House  of  Da\'id.  They  were  addressed  to 
the  disciples  at  the  close  of  Christ's  ministry,  in 
the  one  case  in  tlie  course  of  His  last  journey  to 
Jerusalem,  in  the  other  in  connexion  with  the 
dispute  at  the  Last  Supper  as  to  who  should  be 
accounted  the  greatest.  The  answer  of  Jesus  in 
both  cases — to  the  ambitious  request  of  Salome, 
and  to  the  dispute  among  the  disciples — was  the 
same,  and  the  principle  which  He  laid  down  was 
to  this  effect.  For  Master  and  for  disciple  the 
question  of  dominion  is  totally  different  from  that 
which  is  agitated  by  the  ambition  of  the  world. 
Among  the  princes  of  the  Gentiles  the  way  to 
power  and  authority  is  the  path  of  worldly  ambi- 
tion and  self-assertion.  It  is  not  so  in  the  King- 
dom of  God.  There  not  self-assertion  but  self- 
denial  is  the  way  to  supremacy.  The  way  to 
dominion  is  the  way  of  service.  Places  of  suprem- 
acy there  certainly  are  in  the  Kingdom  of  God, 
and  they  are  reserved  '  for  those  for  whom  they 
are  prepared '  of  the  Father.  But  they  are 
allotted  upon  a  definite,  intelligible  principle,  and 
that  not  of  favouritism  but  of  spiritual  character. 
Tliey  who  shall  hold  rank  nearest  to  Christ  in  His 
Kingdom  are  they  who  shall  most  closely  resemble 
Him  in  respect  of  lowliness,  self-denial,  and 
humble  service.  For  disciple  and  for  Master  the 
law  is  the  sann'  in  (hi-,  respect,  that  'he  that 
liiimbleth  h\m~.,-\{  shall  im  exalted.'  So  Christ  is 
'among  you  as  hn  that  serveth  '  (Lk  22").  In 
laying  down  the  pi  iuci]ile,  Jesus  illustrated  it  by 
reference  to  His  own  mission.  '  The  Son  of  Man 
came  not  to  be  ministered  unto,  but  to  minister, 
and  to  give  his  life  a  ransom  for  many '  (Mt 
20=s  II  Mk  10^5).  And  here  as  elsewhere  the  dis- 
ciple must  be  as  his  Master,  attaining  his  place  in 
the  Kingdom  only  by  the  way  of  self-humiliation, 
self-denial,  self-sacri'hce. 

2.  The  use  in  these  passages,  in  inimriliate  con- 
nexion with  the  idea  of  dominiini.  ..lib.-  wDicIs'  liave 
authority  over,'  'exercise  autlnn  il  y  <>»<  r '  ((^omia- 
i'ovaiv,  f'loiwidfocTes),  calls  for  sotnc  rnfricnce  to  the 
jiiiwer  or  authority  (i^oivia)  attributed  to  Christ  in 
connexion  with  His  liumiliation  as  well  as  with 
1 1  is  exaltation.  That  during  His  ministry  He  pos- 
se sscd  and  exercised  very  complete  and  far-reaching 
authority,  dominion  in  the  sense  of  fjowria,  the 
natural  synonym  of  Kcpi67-7;s,  '  lordsliip,'  'dominion,' 
is  distinctly  testified  by  all  the  (inspels. 

Lord.ship  (Kvpi6T-q%)  was  p\|iressly  claimed  by  Him 
even  in  connexion  witli  His  s|.,t',.  of  humiliation. 
Thus,  in  controversy  wiih  ihr  Pharisees,  He 
claimed  to  be  Lord  of  the  S.ihhath,  and,  as  such,  to 
be  entitled  to  interpret  the  Sabbath  law  (Mt  12'  || 
Mk  2="  II  Lk  6^).  St.  Luke  tells  us  in  his  account 
of  the  healing  of  the  paralytic,  that  'the  power 
of  the  Lord  was  present  to  heal '  (5").  The  mes- 
sage to  the  owners  of  the  ass  on  which  Jesus  rode 
to  Jerusalem  was  '  The  Lord  hath  need  of  him ' 
(Mt  218  ,1  Mk^  IP  II  Lj^.  J93..W),  When  Jesus  had 
washed  the  disciples'  feet,  and  was  applj'ing  the 
lesson  of  that  incident,  He  said,  '  Ye  call  me 
Master  and  Lord  :  and  ye  say  well ;  for  so  I  am  ' 
(Jn  13'3). 

As  Son  of  Man,  He  was  invested  with  special 
power  (i^ovala)  to  work  miracles.  As  such  He  is 
represented  as  exercising  a  delegated  authority, 
acting  according  to  His  Father's  will  (Jn  5*"''-), 
but  that  with  a  spontaneity  and  directness  un- 


490 


DomNION 


DOOH 


known  before 

spirits  that  they  trembled 
approach,  and  were  compelled  to  yield  instant 
though  fearful  and  reluctant  obedience  to  His 
command  (Mk  1"  II  Lk  4*^).  With  a  word  He  con- 
trolled the  winds  and  waves  (Mt  8-«-"  i;  Mk  4'3-"  n 
Lk  8'-"-  =*).  So  wide  and  great  was  His  authority 
over  the  powers  of  life  and  death,  that  His  word, 
even  though  spoken  at  a  distance,  was  sufficient  to 
effect  an  instantaneous  cure,  as  wlien  His  word  of 
assurance  spoken  at  Cana  to  the  nobleman  was 
followed  immediately  by  the  cure  of  his  child  who 
lay  sick  at  Capernaum  (Jn  4^) ;  and  when  He  con- 
firmed the  faith  of  the  centurion,  who  likened 
Christ's  power  over  disease  to  his  own  authority 
over  his  soldiers,  by  speaking  the  word  which 
healed  his  servant  (Mt  S'-^'  il  Lk  T*"'").  Three 
times  He  raised  the  dead  with  a  word  :  in  the  case 
of  the  widow's  son  (Lk  7""'^),  in  that  of  Jairus' 
daughter  (Mt  9^^--^  II  Mk  5='-«  I!  Lk  S""'**),  and  in 
that  of  Lazarus  ( Jn  1 1'-*^).  He  could  even  delegate 
to  others  His  power  over  unclean  spirits  and  to 
heal  disease,  as  He  did  in  His  mission,  first  of 
the  Twelve,  and  again  of  the  Seventy  disciples 
(Mt  W-  II  Mk  6™-  II  Lk  91-"  10i-'«).  Again,  He 
claimed  and  exercised  power  on  earth  to  forgive 
sins  (Mt  9«  II  Mk  2i»  II  Lk  o"-\  cf.  Lk  7«). 

3.  According  to  the  Johannine  discourses,  Jesus 
declared  that  the  Father  had  committed  to  Him 
power  to  execute  judgment  '  because  he  is  the  Son 
of  Man '  (Jn  5").  This  function  refers  specially 
to  His  state  of  exaltation.  He  came  not  to  judge, 
but  to  save  the  world  (Jn  12") ;  '  I  judge  no  man,' 
He  said  to  the  Jews  (8'*).  At  the  same  time  His 
work  and  teaching,  even  His  very  presence  in  the 
world,  meant  a  judgment,  inasmuch  as  they  com- 
pelled men  to  declare  themselves  either  for  or 
against  Christ,  and  so  pass  judgment  upon  them- 
selves (cf.  Jn  9^') ;  and  as  Jesus  said  Himself,  '  The 
word  tliat  I  have  spoken,  the  same  shall  judge  him 
in  the  last  day'  (IS-**).  To  Jesus  as  Son  of  Man 
all  judgment  and  authority  and  power  have  been 
committed.  All  things  are  given  into  His  hands 
(Mt  11",  Jn  3^  II  13-),  that  He  may  guide  and 
strengthen  His  Church  (Mt  28i«),  and  at  His  second 
coming  appear  as  the  Judge  of  all  nations  (Mt 
25^"f-)-  It  is  He  who  is  to  pass  the  final  sentence 
upon  the  just  and  upon  the  unjust.  On  that  day 
He  will  say  to  those  who  have  falsely  called  Him 
'  Lord,  Lord,' '  I  know  you  not '  ( Mt  l""  ^).  He  will 
open  to  His  faithful  ones  the  door  to  the  eternal 
festival  of  joj[,  but  will  close  the  door  of  the 
heavenly  marriage  feast  on  'the  unfaithful'  (Mt 
722. 23  2511- 12,  Lk  13='--'»).  '  He  shall  sit  upon  the 
throne  of  his  glory,  and  before  him  shall  be 
gathered  all  nations'  (Mt  25''-^-).  In  connexion 
with  these  predictions  of  the  events  of  the  Day  of 
Judgment,  Jesus  says :  '  The  Son  of  Man  shall 
send  forth  his  angels,  and  they  shall  gather  out  of 
his  kingdom  all  things  that  offend,  and  them  that 
do  iniquity'  (Mt  13").  The  angels  are  thus  repre- 
sented as  being  subject  to  the  dominion  of  Christ 
in  His  exaltation,  as  His  servants,  obeying  His 
behests ;  as  even  during  His  life  on  earth  they 
appeared  as  ministering  spirits  obedient  to  His 
command,  and  waiting  upon  Him  as  courtiers 
upon  their  Sovereign  (Mt  4"  26^',  Lk  22«). 

Lastly,  as  the  fruit  of  His  work  of  redemption, 
and  as  part  of  the  glory  which  He  has  won  by  His 
perfect  submission  to  the  Father's  will,  there  is 
given  to  Him,  in  tliar  time  nf  waitinir  whicli  must 
pass  before  tli.'  Iliinl  r,.niplitioii  of  His  kini;il()Mi, 
'all  power  in  Ii.mvi-h  .mm.!  .m  ,-.u\  h  i  Mt  lN'-i,  as  tlie 
Father  has  ■  viv.- 
he  should  give  e 
given  him '  (Jn  17 


LlTERATI-RE.- 


xi,eiirr,( ;   Grimm-Thayer,  Lex.  ST, 


1,11,1  |i(.w,,i  ..vrrall  li,>-li,  tha 
;rnal  lite  to  as  many  as  he  ha 
cf.  10**).     See  also  Power. 

,  Bih.-Thenl.   Lex.   g.vv.   i£«[/(r/«,  xupm 


,{.w,. 


xifiau  xiipnii>i;  H.  J.  Holtzmann,  LehrbxKh  der  yr  Theol. 
i.  319 f.,  ii.  409 £E.;  Wendt,  The  Teaching  of  Jesus,  ii.  276: 
Bevschlag,  AT  Theology,  i.  59-191,  241 ;  Comtn.  of  Mever  and 

Aiford.  Hugh  H.  Currie. 

DOOR  (ffiipa,  cf.  $vpap6s,  'doorkeeper,'  'porter'). 
— The  word  'door'  is  frequently  found  in  the 
Gospels,  sometimes  in  the  literal,  often  in  the 
figurative  sense. 

1.  We  need,  first,  to  get  clearly  in  mind  the 
meaning  of  the  term  in  Oriental  usage.  By 
'  door '  is  usually  meant  the  outside  or  entrance 
'doorway,'  but  often  the  'door'  in  distinction 
from  the  'doorway,'  the  frame  of  wood,  stone,  or 
metal  that  closes  the  doorway.  The  outside  of 
the  Oriental  house  has  little  ornament  or  archi- 
tectural attractiveness  of  any  kind.  The  'door,' 
however,  and  the  projecting  'window'  above  it, 
are  exceptions  to  this  rule.  The  doors,  windows, 
and  doorways  are  often  highly  ornamented  (Is 
541-,  Rev  21^'),  enriched  with  arabesques,  and,  if 
to-day  it  be  the  house  of  a  Moslem,  the  door  will 
have  sentences  from  the  Koran  inscribed  upon  it 
(cf.  Dt  6').  The  '  doors '  are  usually  of  hard  wood, 
studded  with  nails,  or  sometimes  covered  with 
sheet-iron.  They  are  often  very  heavy.  They 
invariably  open  inwards,  and  are  furnished  on  the 
inside  with  strong  bars  and  bolts.  They  have 
usually  wooden  locks,  which  are  worked  by  wooden 
keys  of  such  size  that  they  could  make  formidable 
clubs  (Is  22-,  cf.  Land  ami  Book,  i.  493).  There  is 
an  opening  in  the  door  for  the  insertion  of  the 
hand  and  the  introduction  of  the  key  from  the 
outside,  the  lock  being  reached  only  from  the  in- 
side. On  entering  the  'door'  there  is  usually  a 
vestibule,  where,  in  daytime,  the  '  doorkeeper  is 
found,  and  where  the  master  often  receives  the 
casual  visitor  (cf.  Gn  lO'^  23'"  3i^  and  Job  29'). 

The  '  doors '  leading  into  the  '  rooms '  or  '  cham- 
bers'  that  open  upon  the  court  are  not  usually 
supplied  with  locks  or  bolts ;  a  curtain,  as  a  rule, 
being  all  that  separates  one  of  these  'chambers' 
from  the  'court,'  the  idea  being  that  all  is  private 
and  secure  wthin  the  outer  gate  (cf.  Dt  24",  Ac 
10^  1213). 

'vay' 

threshold  or  sill  (sometimes  used  for  'door'),  the 
two  side-posts,  and  the  lintel  (Ex  12"').  The  doors 
of  ancient  Egypt,  and  probably  of  contemporary 
nations,  swung  upon  vertical  pintles  which  pro- 
jected from  the  top  and  bottom  of  the  door  into 
sockets  in  the  lintel  and  threshold  respectively. 
The  commonest  form  of  door  had  the  pintle  in  the 
middle  of  the  width,  so  that,  as  it  opened,  a  way 
was  aflbrded  on  each  side  of  it  for  ingress  or  egress. 
Occasionally  we  find  that  the  'chamber,'  or 
private  room,  had  its  own  door  and  fastenings. 
In  Mt  6*,  '  When  thou  hast  shut  thy  door,'  the  word 
used  means  not  only  closed,  but  fastened  it — giving 
the  idea  of  complete  privacy.  See  art.  CLOSET. 
In  Mt  2.5'",  'the  door  was  shut,'  it  is  clearly  the 
outside  or  entrance-door  that  is  meant.  When 
this  one  outer  door  was  shut,  all  communication 
with  the  outside  world  was  cut  off.  Then  nothin" 
but  persistent  knocking  at  this  door,  and  loud 
entreaty,  would  succeed  in  securing  even  a  hearing. 
In  this  case  the  apjjeal  was  made  to  the  bridegroom 
himself,  who,  to  this  day,  is  considered  in  the  East 
sovereign  of  the  occasion. 

2.  When  Jesus  said,  '  I  am  the  door '  ( Jn  lO*), 
He  clearly  meant  to  exclude  every  other  form  or 
means  of  mediation.  But  throutjh  Him  there  is  an 
unhindered  entering  into  and  going  out  of  the  fold 
(cf.  Nu  27'"). 

3.  When  it  is  said  that  Joseph,  'a  rich  man  of 
Arimathwa,'  begged  the  body  of  Jesus,  laid  it  in 
his  own  new  tomb,  which  he  had  hewn  out  in  the 
rock,  and  rolled  a  great  stone  to  the  door  of  the 
tomb  (Mt  27®',  Mk  16'),  we  have  a  reference  to  a 


DOUBT 


DOVE 


491 


unique  kind  of  door.  The  great  roll-stone  is  often 
mentioned  in  the  Talmud,  but  only  in  describing 
interments  of  the  dead  (Keini).  It  was  clearly 
designed  to  protect  the  dead  bodies  and  the  other 
contents  of  the  tomb  from  robbers,  petty  thieves, 
and  birds  and  beasts  of  prey.  One  large  tomb  is 
now  shown  half  a  mile  north  of  Jerusalem,  which 
has  a  huge  circular  stone,  like  a  great  millstone 
on  edge,  cut  from  the  solid  rock,  together  with  the 
channel  in  which  it  revolves.  There  are  signs  that 
i  originally  furnished  with  a  secret  fastening, 
less  to  protect  the  contents — spices,  costly 
linen,  jewellery,  etc.,  against  plunder.  The  '  Tomb 
of  Mariamne,'  recently  uncovered  south  of  the 
city,  and  the  so-called  'Tomb  of  Lazarus'  at  Beth- 
any, likewise  have  doors  with  similar  '  roll-stones ' 
(cf.  art.  Tomb).  See  also  artt.  COURT,  House. 
Geo.  B.  Eager. 
DOUBT.— 

Ill  Lat.  dubitare,  from  duo  '  two '  and  bito  '  go '  ;  Germ. 
Ziveifeln,  Zweifel ;  from  zwci,  *two';  Mid.  Enfj.  douten^  'to 
doubt,'  had  the  meaniiij;  of  to /far  ('I  dovibt  some  foul  play' 
fShakspeare],  '  nor  slack  her  threatful  hand  for  danger's 
doubt'  (Spenser)),  and  this  meaning,  perhaps,  survives  in  such 
expressions  as  '  I  doubt  he  will  not  come.'  But,  as  commonly 
used,  to  doubt  means  lo  be  of  two  vihids,  to  waver,  to  hesitate. 
It  suggests  the  idea  of  perplexity  ;  of  being  at  a  loss,  in  a  state 
of  suspense.  The  questioning  attitude  is  implied.  The  word 
has,  in  short,  a  variety  of  meanings. 

References  in  the  Gospels. — The  word  'doubt' 
occurs  several  times  in  AV  and  RV.  It  is  used, 
however,  to  translate  several  Greek  terms  ;  nor  are 
these  invariably  rendered  by  the  word  in  Question. 
A  study  of  the  respective  passages  reveals  difler- 
ing  circumstances  and  conditions,  different  types 
of  character,  a  variety  of  subjects  exercising  the 
mind.     Doubt  in  several  phases  is  in  illustration. 

(a)  The  doubt  of  perplexity.  Thus  in  Mk  6=", 
Lk  24*,  Jn  13"— where  the  verb  airopioi  occurs  (the 
strengthened  compound  Siairopioi  is  found  in  Lk  9'). 
There  is  no  question  in  these  passages  of  the  ap- 
prehension of  religious  truth  ;  the  idea  suggested 
is  rather  that  of  being  taken  aback,  disturbed, 
distracted,  by  the  unintelligible  and  the  unex- 
pected. Herod  is  'much  perplexed  '  (Mk  6™  RV, 
cf.  Lk  9')  as  he  listens  to  the  Baptist,  as  reports 
reach  him  concerning  Jesus ;  he  is  puzzled,  at  a 
loss  for  explanations.  And  thus  in  Jn  13--  '  the 
disciples  looked  one  upon  the  other,  doubting  of 
whom  he  spake '  ;  the  unexpected  statement  has 
bewildered  them.  Similar  feelings  may  be  recog- 
nized in  the  case  of  the  women  at  the  sepulchre 
(Lk  24'')  ;  they  are  'much  perplexed'  ;  utterly  un- 
able, that  is,  to  account  for  the  empty  tonili.  A 
like  meaning  may,  perhaps,  be  I'ead  into  the  '  Ikiw 
long  dost  thou  hold  us  in  suspense? '  of  Jn  10'-^  {ttiv 
^"XV"  ilt'-^i'  ai'pets) ;  the  Jews  being  understood  as 
professing  an  uncertainty  wliicli  could  be  at  once 
dispelled  by  some  plain  declaration  on  the  part  of 
Jesus. 

(6)  Wavering  faith.  A  second  group  of  passages, 
where  the  verbs  fiereupi^eaffai  and  SiffTd^fiv  occur, 
has  now  to  be  considered.  Again  the  woril 
'doubt'  is  found  in  AV  and  RV,  but  with  refer- 
ence to  a  mental  condition  other  than  that  which 
has  been  noted  in  the  preceding  paragraph.  A 
religious  significance  is  now  observable  ;  the  exist- 
ence of  faith  is  implied,  but  it  is  an  imperfect,  a 
wavering  faith.  Because  of  distractions  of  one 
kind  or  another,  confidence  is  impaired.  The 
doubters  referred  to  are  sometimes  the  d\iy6Tia-Toi : 
their  faith  not  only  wavering  but  small.  Thus  in 
Lk  12™  'neither  be  ye  of  doubtful  mind'  (xai  /xq 
uexfuplffo-ffe),  the  context  supplies  the  explanation  ; 
anxiety  about  earthly  things  is  incompatible  with 
absolute  trust  in  the  Fatherhood  of  God.  So  also 
in  Mt  14'"  'wherefore  didst  thou  doubt?'  (fi's  W 
iilaraaas ;),  where  St.  Peter's  confidence  has  given 
way  before  sudden  panic.     And  thus,  perhaps,  in 


Mt  28"  '  but  some  doubted '  (eShraaav).  What, 
precisely,  the  condition  of  these  genuine  disciples 
was  is  difficult  to  determine,  but  it  was  one 
which  left  them  unreceptive  while  others  were 
convinced  of  a  manifestation  of  the  living  Lord. 
With  this  passage  may  be  compared  Lk  24^*  ;  the 
diaXoyio-fj-ol  (RV  'reasonings')  being  significant  of 
fearsome  hesitation  on  the  part  of  those  wlio  could 
not  at  once  realize  that  the  mysterious  visitor  was 
none  other  than  Jesus  Himself. 

(c)  The  critical  attitude.  This  is  implied  by  the 
verb  diaKfibea-dai.  ;  a  term  which,  as  used  in  NT, 
denotes  the  absence  of  faith,  the  paralysis  of  faith. 
It  occurs  but  twice  in  the  Gospels  (Mt  2Fi,  Mk 
11-')  ;  where  the  power  of  faith  is,  by  implication, 
contrasted  with  the  impotency  which  is  involved 
in  the  want  of  faith.  Thought  seems  to  be  directed 
to  the  inevitable  consequence  of  regarding  Divine 
things  as  a  subject  for  curious  inve.stigation  rather 
than  as  matter  of  personal  concern.  On  the  one 
hand,  there  is  the  emphatic  declaration  wliich  may 
be  expressed  in  the  words  of  Bacon,  '  Man,  when 
lie  resteth  and  assureth  himself  upon  divine  Pro- 
tection and  Favour,  gathereth  a  Force  and  Faith 
[in  its  sense  of  fidelity]  which  Human  Nature,  in 
its  selfe,  could  not  obtaine.'  On  the  other  hand, 
there  is  the  implied  warning  that,  as  the  vision  of 
God  darkens  and  vanishes,  man's  capacity  for  use- 
ful action  becomes  weaker,  until  at  length  it  dies 
away. 

[For  discussion  of  '  the  doubt  of  Thomas '  see 
Thomas  and  Unbelief]. 

Literature. — Lyttelton,  Modern  Poets  of  Faith,  Doubt,  and 
Paganism ;  lUingworth,  Christian  Character ;  James,  The 
Will  to  Believe ;  Carlyle,  Sartor  Besartiis ;  Browning,  Christ- 
mas-Eve and  Easter-Da;/ ;  Tennyson,  Jn  Memoriaiii  (edited, 
with  commentary,  by  A.  W.  Robinson) ;  Jowett,  Sennons. 

H.  L.  Jackson. 
DOVE  (Trepurrepd). — Its  gentle  nature  makes  the 
dove  a  frequent  simile  in  ancient  literature.  Christ 
bids  His  disciples  to  be  harmless  as  doves,  and  to 
unite  witli  such  gentleness  a  wisdom  like  the 
serpent's  (JIt  10"").  Meyer,  in  lot:,  takes  this  to 
mean,  '  Be  prudent  in  regard  to  dangers  in  which 
you  are  placed,  quick  to  see  and  avoid  dangers  ; 
and  always  be  full  of  uprightness,  never  taking 
any  questionable  way  of  escape.'  As  the  serpent 
is  the  most  cunning  of  the  beasts  of  the  field, 
so  should  the  Lord's  disciples  ha^'e  wisdom  to 
understand  the  subtleties  of  Satan  ;  but  no  evil 
is  to  mix  with  such  wisdom.  Along  with  it 
there  must  be  found   a   jiurity   :iiid  simplicity  of 

symbol.  The  truest  wisdom  for  the  ( 'hristian  is 
to  keep  always  the  simplicity  of  the  dove.  A 
nature  purified  by  the  Spirit  of  Christ  will  have 
wise  penetration  enough  to  defeat  all  the  wiles  of 
Satan. 

The  dove,  the  emblem  of  perfect  innocence,  is 
u.sed  (Mt  3'"  and  parallels)  as  a  symliol  of  the  Holy 
Spirit,  who  is  the  power  and  wisdom  of  God,  act- 
ing on  the  spirits  of  men.  When  the  do\  e  appeared 
to  sit  on  the  Saviour's  head,  it  denoted  the  Divine 
recognition  of  His  holiness  (v."),  and  His  official 
consecration  to  the  JNIessianic  ministry.  As  the 
author  of  the  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews  says,  '  He 
was  holy,  harmless,  undefiled,  and  separate  from 
sinners'  (7-*). 

It  has  been  thought  that  the  dove  had  a  sacro- 
sanct character  among  the  Hebrews.  Though  it 
was  a  favourite  food  with  some  neighbouring 
peoples,  it  was  not  eaten  in  Palestine.  Young 
pigeons  and  doves  were  ottered  in  sacrifice,  where 
no  sacrificial  meal  was  involved.  So  we  find  in 
tlie  temple  courts  them  that  sold  doves  (Mt  21", 
Mk  11'°,  Jn  2"- "5),— no  doubt  for  such  sacrifices, 
—whom  Christ  drove  out,  along  with  the  inoney- 
changers.     In   Palestine  the  dove  was  considered 


492 


DOXOLOGY 


DOXOLOGY 


saored  by  the  Phoenicians  and  the  Pliilistines,  and 
the  Samaritans  were  often  accused  of  -worshipping 
it.  There  were  holy  doves  at  Mecca  ;  and,  accord- 
ing to  Lucian  (Dea  Syria,  54),  doves  were  taboo  to 
the  Syrians  ;  lie  who  touched  them  being  unclean 
a  whole  day. 

In  Christian  Art  in  representations  of  the  Lord's 
Baptism,  the  presence  of  the  Holy  Spirit  is  indi- 
cated by  the  dove.  In  churches  in  early  times  the 
figure  of  a  dove  appeared  in  the  baptisteries,  a 
golden  or  silver  dove  being  suspended  above  the 
font.  Lamps,  too,  were  sometimes  made  in  the 
form  of  doves.  In  later  times  pyxes  were  some- 
times made  of  gold  and  silver  in  the  .shape  of  a 
dove,  and  used  for  the  reservation  of  the  host. 

E.vclusive  of  the  turtle-dove,  four  species  of  dove  are  found 
in  Palestine ;  Coluiaba  pahuiibus,  the  ring-dove,  or  wood- 
pigeon  ;  Columba  tpiias,  the  stock-dove,  found  in  Gilead  and 
Bashan  and  the  Jordan  Valley  ;  Columba  liria,  the  rock-dove, 
abundant  along  the  coast  and  in  the  uplands ;  Columba 
schimperi,  closely  allied  to  the  preceding,  and  found  in  the 

;  Thomson,  Land  and  Book 
Expositor,  1st  ser.  ix.  [18791  p.  81  ff. 

David  M.  W.  Laird. 
DOXOLOGY.  —  An  ascription  of  praise  to  God 
in  forms  of  words  more  or  less  ii.xed  by  usage. 
Though  the  terra  does  not  occur  in  the  XT,  it  con- 
tains many  doxologies,  and  they  were  an  important 
element  in  the  devotional  life  of  the  primitive 
Christians.  This  indeed  was  inevitable,  because 
they  carried  with  them  what  was  best  in  the  prac- 
tice of  Judaism,  and  were  especially  influenced  in 
the  expression  of  their  worship  by  the  language  of 
the  OT. 

1.  The  OT  and  Jewish  usage. — Doxologies  are 
common  in  the  OT,|being  found  in  germ  even  in  its 
oldest  portions.  In  the  Song  of  Deborah  praise  is 
given  to  Jehovah  for  national  deliverance  (Jg  5--  '  ; 
cf.  Ex  IS'").  In  1  K  1«  S'5  there  is  thankful  recog- 
nition of  Jehovah's  power  and  control  in  national 
events.  Tlie  Psalms  are  especially  rich  (28'  34--  '■ 
135,  146),  though  one  form,  '  give  thanks  unto 
Jehovah,  for  His  lovingkindness  endureth  for 
ever,'  seems  to  be  the  most  common  both  in  tlie 
Psalms  and  all  post-exilic  literature  (Ps  106'  107' 
US'-  2-  3,  1  Ch  16",  2  Ch  5"  V-  ",  Ezr  3").  The 
regular  liturgical  conclusion  of  the  services  of  the 
Temple,  and  afterwards  of  the  Synagogue,  came 
to  be  a  doxology  beginning  '  blessed  be  (or  '  is  ') 
God.'  By  the  time  of  our  Lord  the  employment  of 
doxological  expressions  had  increased  so  largely, 
that  they  were  in  the  mouth  of  the  people  for  any 
event  which  stirred  their  gratitude  or  wonder,  in 
fact  as  thanksgiving  for  almost  everything  in  life. 
Though  the  fundamental  religious  idea  of  the 
doxolog}-,  that  Jehovah  is  the  Holy  One  whose 
sovereign  power  must  be  acknowledged  at  all 
times,  was  a  noble  one,  its  use  had  too  often 
degenerated  into  the  veriest  formalism. 

2.  NT  usaf/c. — Traces  of  Jewish  custom  may  be 
seen  in  the  Gospels  (Mt  15^',  Mk  2>%  Lk  !«•  '«  2™ 
525.  38  ';i6)_  The  words  and  attendant  conditions  of 
the  life  of  Jesus  .so  im|in'"iMl  tlir  jipuple  that  a 
new  hope  was  born  in  tliiiii,  ;iiiJ  ili..\  ]iraised  God 
for  signs  of  His  returniiiu  i.iM.ur  in  Israel  through 
this  prophet.  Jesus  do.^.,  unt  yet  receive  Divine 
homage.  No  doxology  is  ottered  to  Him  anywliere 
in  the  Gospels,  for  the  Messianic  acclaim  (Mk 
119.  lu)  is  jiQt,  to  be  so  interpreted  (see  Dalman, 
}Vords  of  Jesus,  220ff. ,  and  Swete,  in  lor. ).  God  alone 
has  the  right  to  such  ascription,  for  He  is  '  holy  ' ; 
He  is  6  ei5\o77p-6s,  the  One  to  whom  blessing  is  due 
(Mk  14"'),  N'T  -nj  c'nijn  being  a  well-known  Jewish 
formula.     See  artt.  BENEDICTION  and  Blessing. 

Immediately  after  the  Resurrection,  Jesus  is 
associated  with  the  Father  in  glory,  and  receives 
worship  as  Messiah  and  Son  of  God.  This  is  the 
universal  Apostolic  view  (Ac  2™-^3"'"5",  Ro  \\ 


Ph  2«-",  He  1'  2^  Ja  2',  1  P  1=').  So  the  ascrip- 
tion of  doxologies  to  the  risen  Christ  naturally 
followed.  But  the  doxology  continued  to  be  ad- 
dressed most  frequently  to  God  the  Father  (Ro 
1P«,  Gal  P,  Eph  3»-  =',  Ph  4»  1  Ti  1"  6'«,  1  P  5", 
Rev  7''-').  In  several  Jesus  Christ  is  associated 
more  or  less  directly  with  God  the  Father  (Ro  16", 
1  P  4",  Jude  ==,  Rev  5'=).  Ro  9*  and  He  13^' 
present  baffling  evidence  as  to  the  recipient ;  but 
in  2  Ti  4'8,  2  P  3'»,  Rev  P  glory  is  ascribed  to 
Jesus  Christ.  Thus  in  conformity  with  Christian 
belief  the  OT  usage  was  expanded,  so  that  at  a 
very  early  date  there  arose  a  Christian  formula, 
which  in  the  public  adoration  of  the  worship  of 
the  Church  would  serve  in  a  secondary  sense  as  a 
creed,  expressing  the  doctrine  that  the  risen  Christ 
shared  in  Divine  honour  with  the  Father. 

3.  StriKture.  —The  doxologies  of  the  NT  consist 
of  three  main  parts. 

(a)  The  Person  to  whom  praise  is  given.  This 
is,  as  we  have  seen,  most  frequently  God  the 
Father,  though  Jesus  Christ  is  associated  with 
Him.  Attributes  are  often  added,  usually  to 
emphasize  the  Divine  blessing  which  has  oc- 
casioned the  praise.  In  Eph  3-"''  ",  e.g.  a  clause 
descriptive  of  the  power  of  the  Almighty  serves 
to  justify  the  Apostle's  prayer  for  strength  on 
behalf  of  his  readers.  See  Ro  16",  1  Ti  1"  6'^  2  P 
3'8,  Jude  "-*■  ■■^,  Rev  P- «  5'^ 

{/))  The  second  term  is  almost  invariably  56|a 
('glory'),  either  alone  or  with  some  significant 
addition  (Ep  3^'),  the  chief  exceptions  being  1  Ti 
6'"  ('  honour  and  power  '),  1  P  5"  ('  the  dominion '). 
The  amplitude  of  the  doxologies  in  the  Apocalypse 
deserves  attention,  the  praise  being  threefold  (4" 
19'),  fourfold  (5"),  or  sevenfold  in  its  perfection 
(7'2).  This  full-voiced  glory  offered  to  the  Lamb 
(5'^)  in  this  book  of  Hebrew  cast,  shows  how 
thoroughly  it  was  the  belief  of  the  circle  from 
which  it  issued  that  Jesus  transcended  every 
created  being. 


(c)  The  third  integral  part  of  the  doxology  in 
its  simplest  form  is  eU  rods  aldms  ('  unto  the  ages'), 
which  denotes  the  eternity  of  the  sovereign  rule  of 
the  Lord.  Before  the  mind  of  the  Apostolic  writers, 
however,  the  future  rolls  out  in  a  series  of  a?ons, 
so  that  the  normal  form  is  expanded  very  frequently 
into  ets  rodt  aidvai  tQv  aluvuiv,  in  order  to  cover  all 
possible  periods  of  time  (Gal  \\  Ph  4»',  1  Ti  1", 
■>  Ti  4'8,  He  13-',  1  P  4",  Rev  5'^  7'"-.  See  also  Eph 
32',  2  P  3'8,  Jude  ■^). 

The  conclusion  of  all  doxologies  except  2  P  3'*  is 

i.  The  Doxology  in  the  LorcTs  Prayer  (Mt  6").— 
It  can  no  longer  be  doubted  that  this  was  not  a 
part  of  the  prayer  as  it  stood  originally  in  Matthew. 
The  uncial  evidence  is  very  weak  (LAS),  and  the 
variations  in  the  early  versions  are  numerous 
(Syr™'  omits  '  and  the  power ' ;  the  Sinaitic  is 
defective,  and  the  old  Latin  (k)  and  the  Sahidic 
differ  from  each  other  and  from  the  Syriac).  The 
form  found  in  the  Didache  (viii.  2,  x.  5)  ultimately 
developed  into  the  full  expression  ('the  kingdom 
and  the  power  and  the  glory'),  whicli  probably 
passed  into  the  Syrian  text  from  the  liturgical 
usage  of  the  Syrian  Church.  (See  Hort's  Notes  on 
S,7.  I  I;.'i7,n.i:.  1..  !)).  of  this  tinal  iloxology  the 
oriji'  I  -r..  in.iy  have  been  1  Ch  29",  which 
sli,i|>  ir  ^  iii-nLTMc  Usage  iwnl  tliercby  that  of 
the  Cliii-ti;iii  Church.  No  Jewish  benediction  was 
complete  without  reference  to  'the  kingdom'  of 
Jehovah.  '  It  calls  attention  to  this  that  He  to 
whom  the  kingdom  belongs,  also  has  the  power  to 
hear  the  prayer  which  primarily  has  in  view  the 


DRAUGHT  OF  FISHES 


DRAW-NET 


493 


establishing  of  that  kingdom,  and  that  He  is  tliere- 
fore  to  be  praised  for  ever '  (Weiss).  See,  further, 
art.  Lord's  Prayer. 

S.  The  Angelic  Hymn  (Lk  S"),  in  its  longer  and 
less  correct  text,  gave  rise  to  the  Gloria  in  Excdsis 
(Apost.  Const.  VII.  il).  The Doxologia Minor  {'G\ory 
be  to  the  Father,'  etc.)  may  possibly  be  traced 
back  to  Mt  28'",  but  there  is  no  other  sign  of  it  in 
the  NT.  However,  to  follow  the  fortunes  of  these 
doxologies  would  carry  us  beyond  our  limits.  (See 
Smith's  Dictionary  of  Christian  Antiquities). 


Lord's  Prayer  in  the  Early  Church ;  Westoott,  Epistle 
Hebrews,  Add.  Note  '  Apostolic  Doxologies.' 

"   A.  Falconer. 


DRAUGHT  OF  FISHES. -A  twice  repeated 
miracle:  (1)  at  the  beginning  of  the  Lord's 
ministry,  (2)  after  tlie  Resurrection.  The  main 
points  are  similar,  but  ditl'erences  in  the  details 
have  always  been  considered  important  and  sig- 
nificant. 

1.  Lk  5'"".  At  the  Lake  of  Gennesaret,  Jesus, 
after  teaching  from  Peter's  boat,  bids  him  put 
out  and  let  down  tlie  nets  for  a  draught.  He  and 
his  companions  have  toiled  all  the  night  witliout 
success,  but  obey,  and  enclose  a  great  multitude  of 
fishes,  so  that  the  nets  are  in  danger  of  breaking. 
With  the  aid  of  their  partners  they  fill  the  boats, 
which  begin  to  sink.  Peter,  who  some  time  before 
had  been  brought  to  Jesus  by  his  brother  Andrew 
(Jn  1")  and  had  followed  Him  as  His  disciple  (Mt 
4'8,  Mk  1"*),  now  begs  Jesus  to  depart  from  him  for 
he  is  '  a  sinful  man  '  [the  vision  of  the  Divine  is  the 
revelation  of  man's  sin],  but  on  a  repeated  com- 
mand leaves  all  and  follows  Jesus. 

2.  Jn  21'''''.  Some  daj's  or  weeks  after  the 
Resurrection,  when  the  Apostles  liave  returned 
to  their  work  as  Galikean  fishermen,  after  a  night 
of  fruitless  labour,  when  they  are  drawing  near 
the  shore,  an  unrecognized  voice  hails  them,  asking 
if  they  have  anything  to  sell  for  food.  On  their 
answering  in  the  negative,  they  are  advised  to  cast 
the  net  on  the  right  side  of  the  ship.  Having  done 
so,  they  are  not  able  to  draw  the  net  for  the  multi- 
tude of  fishes.  Instinctively  Jolm  recognizes  the 
Lord,  and  tells  Peter,  who  at  once  swims  to  land. 
On  drawing  the  net,  tlie  number  of  '  great  fishes '  is 
found  to  be  153,  yet  the  net  is  not  broken.  None 
of  the  disciples  has  any  doubt  that '  it  is  the  Lord.' 

The  natural  explanation  of  tlie  miracle,  that  from 
a  distance  Jesus  saw  wliat  those  in  the  boat  failed 
to  observe,  is  possible,  but  is  not  necessary.  The 
power  is  rather  that  of  guiding  to  the  required 
place.  '  The  miracle  lies  in  the  circumstances  and 
not  in  the  mere  fact.  The  events  came  to  men 
from  the  sphere  of  their  daily  labour,  and  were 
at  once  felt  to  be  the  manifestations  of  a  present 
power  of  God '  (Westcott,  Characteristics  of  the 
Gospel  Miracles), — in  the  second  case  the  maniifesta- 
tion  of  the  power  of  the  presence  of  the  risen  Lord. 

The  significant  differences  between  the  details  of  the  two 
incidents  have  been  drawn  out  by  St.  Augustine  (in  Joh.  cxxii. 
7).  '  The  one  miracle  was  the  symbol  of  the  Church  at  present, 
the  other  of  the  Church  perfected ;  in  the  one  we  have  good 
and  bad,  in  the  other  good  only  ;  there  Christ  also  is  on  the 
water,  here  He  is  on  the  land  ;  there  the  draught  is  left  in  the 
boats,  here  it  is  landed  on  the  beach ;  there  the  nets  are  let 
down  as  it  might  be,  here  in  a  special  part ;  there  the  nets  are 
rending,  here  they  are  not  broken  ;  there  the  boats  are  on  the 
point  of  sinking  with  their  load,  here  thev  are  not  laden  :  there 
the  fish  are  not  numbered,  here  the  iiiiiiihir  ia  ixa.tlv  given' 

(Westcott,  i'(.  John,inloc.).    For  iiil -i  |.,c  i  ii -  ..i  ih.rmiiil.iT 

of  fish  (Jn  21"),  see  Westcott  and  ,A\v  ~ 

Literature.— The  Comm.  and   /,-  i   ll,.t^^o 

passages;  Trench  and  Taylor  on  ;»(,.'.  /,,./-,  iv  ii 
[1892]  18;   P.  W.  Robertson,  The  lit, 


Frondes  Agreates,  162. 


R.  JMacpher.son. 


DRAW-NET  (aayiivri,  seine). — For  fuller  descrip- 
tion see  art.  Nkts.     This  kind  of  net  is  mentioned 


in  the  Gospels  only  in  the  parable  of  Mt  IZ'"-^, 
where  it  is  very  much  in  point.  Being  usually  of 
great  size  and  sweej)ing  through  an  immense  area, 
it  collects  many  varieties  of  fish — worthless,  under- 
sized, even  dead  fish,  as  well  as  the  choice  and  the 
living.  The  process  of  fishing  with  a  seine  gives 
the  impression  of  comprehensiveness  and  complete- 
ness. To  one  who  has  watched  it — the  very  gradual 
progress  of  the  operation,  the  extended  area  slowly 
encircled,  the  final  dra>ving  up  of  the  net  on  the 
beach,  and  the  sorting  of  its  varied  contents,  witlx 
the  reservation  of  some  and  the  rejection  of  others 
— the  aptness  of  the  parable  becomes  very  apparent. 

The  i^arable  doses  the  series  of  seven  in  Mt  13, 
in  whicli  various  aspects  of  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven 
are  presented.  It  is  parallel  in  meaning  to  the 
second  of  the  scries,— the  Tares  and  the  Wheat,— 
yet  it  has  iis  ili.,tiuct  individuality.  It  points,  like 
that  |Mial>I'\  to  the  intermixture  of  good  and  evil 
in  the  ('liuich  in  its  present  stage,  and  it  is  implicit 
in  the  figure  used  that  no  absolute  separation  is 
jjossible  or  to  be  tliought  of  now.  But  the  emphasis 
of  the  parable  and  of  the  explanation  added  by 
our  Lord,  lies  not  upon  the  fact  of  the  intermix- 
ture, but  upon  the  certainty  that  there  will  be  a 
decisive  end  to  it.  A  time  of  deliberate  (Kaeiaavrei) 
and  final  severance  is  announced  as  a  warning  to 
the  evil,  as  an  assurance  to  the  good.  The  parable 
is  concerned  with  the  future  rather  than  with  the 
present,  hence  its  suitability  at  the  end  of  the 
series.  As  must  be  expected,  the  figure  is  not 
quite  adequate.  The  whole  operation  of  fishing  is 
carried  out  by  the  same  indi\'iduals.  But  the 
separation  of  the  good  and  the  evil  at  the  end  of 
the  world  will  be  effected  not  by  the  men  through 
whom  the  Kingdom  was  extended,  but  by  the 
angels,  to  whom  this  ministry  is  always  assigned 
(Mt  IS"  24"  25",  Rev  14'»-  "). 

This  parable,  like  tliat  of  tlie  Tar< 


from  its  oulu  !  i  II  I  lo  whom  that  note  could  not  be 
attached.     A'._  ,  :,  ,  I  lliat  such  attempted  separation 

was  forbiddi  ri  i-; I  nl  apart  from  the  case  of  open  evil- 
doers, and  tliat  lie  liriil  n..t  rnntemplated  a  community  in  its 
present  stage  free  from  admixture  of  evil.  The  net  must 
contain  both  good  and  bad  fish  till  it  is  drawn  to  tlie  beach. 
As  against  schism,  he  points  out  the  folly  of  those  who,  like  fish 
breaking  through  or  leaping  over  the  net  to  escape  the  com- 
pany of  worthless  flsh  within,  refuse  to  wait  the  final  and 
thorough  separation  appointed  by  God,  and  in  mistakenly 
pressing  the  purity  of  the  Church  lose  its  catholicity  (Augustine, 
Enarr.  in  Ps.  64.  6 ;  cf.  also  Enari:  in  Ps.  12U.  3  ;  Coll.  Carth. 
d.  3  ;  ad  Don.  Post.  Coll.  4,  S,  10). 

What  conception  of  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven  is 
indicated  by  the  parable  ?  The  parable  may  be  said 
to  be  an  expansion  of  the  idea  contained  in  '  fishers 
of  men.'  Taken  by  itself,  it  might  seem  to  supjjort 
the  identification  of  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven  with 
the  Church  ;  but  in  other  contexts  the  Kingdom  of 
Heaven  (or  of  God)  requires  a  much  more  compre- 
hensive explanation.  Harnack's  asM-itioii  that  onr 
Lord  meant  by  this  term,  so  .onslajitly  iciuiiing 
in  His  teaching,  only  an  inwaid  cxiiriiriicf  of  the 
believer  {Das  Wesen  des  Chri.stnilnnis,  y.  .S.'iir.), 
seems  quite  unsuited  to  this  passage.  So,  too, 
does  the  Abb6  Loisy's  explanation  of  the  Kingdom 
as  being  still  entirely  in  the  future,  and  existing 
in  the  present  only  as  an  expectation  (The  Gospel 
and  the  Church,  %  ii.).  The  parable,  naturally  in- 
terpreted, certainly  suggests  a  visible  comnmnity. 
The  Kingdom  is  conceived  of  both  as  inward  and 
outward,  coiisistinu-  in  its  jirpsent  stage  both  of 
thipsr  who  .lie  aiiini.ilcd  li\  its  true  sijirit,  and 
Uio-,.'  «lio  li.|,iii;j  I,,  ji  ,iiii\'  ^.1  f.-ir  that  they  are 
iiirlihl.-il  ill  iN  rMnnal  nru.i iii,:ation.  Again,  the 
Kingdom  is  rupic-ciitcd  a.s  belonging  to  the  present, 
and  yet  as  awaiting  its  consunuuation  in  a  future 
crisis  of  iudgment.  And  it  is  in  idea  universal 
('gathered  of  every  kind'),  tending  to  include  all 
men  within  its  bounds. 


DREAM 


DREAM 


'  The  Kingdom  in  its  highest  and  most  Christian  sense  is  the 
working  of  "invisible  laws"  which  penetrate  below  the  surface, 
and  are  gradually  progressive  and  expansive  in  their  operation. 
But  in  this,  as  in  other  cases,  spiritual  forces  take  to  themselves 
an  outward  form  :  they  are  enshrined  in  a  vessel  of  clay,  finer 
or  coarser  as  the  case  may  be,  not  only  in  men  as  individuals, 
but  in  men  as  a  community  or  communities.  The  society  then 
becomes  at  once  a  vehicle  and  an  instrument  of  the  force  by 
which  it  is  animated,  not  a  perfect  vehicle  or  a  perfect  instru- 
ment,— a  field  of  wheat  mingled  with  tares,  a  net  containing  bad 
fish  as  well  as  good, — but  analogous  to  those  other  visible  msti- 
tutions  by  which  God  accomplishes  His  gracious  purposes 
amongst  men'  (Sanday,  Hastings'  DB,  art.  'Jesus  Christ,'  II. 
B.  b.  (2),  (vi.)).  A.  E.  KOS.S. 

DREAM.— The  interest  of  the  student  of  the 
Gospels  in  dreams  turns  upon  the  occurrence  in 
the  opening  eliapters  of  Matthew  of  the  record  of 
no  fewer  than  five  supernatural  dreams  (1^  2''--  "• 
'"•  --).  Later  in  the  same  Gospel  mention  is  made 
of  a  remarkable  dream  which  came  to  the  wife  of 
Pilate  (27").  There  is  no  reference  to  dreams  else- 
where in  the  NT  except  in  a  citation  from  the  OT 
in  Ac  2"  and  in  an  obscure  verse  in  Jude  (v.*). 

No  allusion  is  made  in  the  Gospels,  or  indeed 
in  the  whole  NT,  to  dreams  as  phenomena  form- 
ing part  of  the  common  experience  of  man.  Any 
such  allusions  that  may  occur  in  Scripture  are,  of 
course,  purely  incidental ;  they  are  therefore  in  the 
whole  e.xtent  of  Scripture  very  infrequent.  Barely 
enough  exist  to  assure  us  that  dreams  were 
thought  of  by  the  Hebrews  very  much  as  they 
are  by  men  of  average  good  sense  in  our  own  day. 
Men  then,  too,  were  visited  vrith  pleasant  dreams 
which  they  knew  were  too  good  to  be  true  (Ps 
126'),  and  afflicted  with  niglitmares  which  drove 
rest  from  their  beds  (Job  7").  To  them,  too, 
dreams  were  the  type  of  the  evanescent  and 
shadowy,  whatever  suddenly  flies  away  and  cannot 
be  found  (Job  20«,  Ps  73=").  The  vanity  and  decep- 
tiveness  of  dreams  were  proverbial  (Ec  5',  Is  29"). 
The  hungi-y  man  may  dream  that  he  eats,  but  his 
soul  continues  empty  ;  the  thirsty  man  may  dream 
that  he  drinks,  but  he  remains  faint  (Is  29*).  Their 
roots  were  set  in  the  multitude  of  cares,  and 
their  issue  Avas  emptiness  (Ec  5^-').  When  the 
Son  of  Sirach  (34'-  -)  represents  them  as  but  re- 
flexions of  our  waking  experiences,  to  regard 
which  is  to  catch  at  a  shadow  and  to  follow 
after  the  wind,  he  has  in  no  respect  passed  beyond 
tlie  Biblical  view.  (Cf.  Delitzsch,  Biblical  Psycho- 
loqu,  p.  328  ;  Orelli,  art.  'Triiume'  in  PEE"-). 

The  interest  of  the  Bible  in  dreams  is  absorbed 
by  the  rare  instances  in  which  they  are  made  the 
vehicles  of  supernatural  revelation.  That  they  were 
occasionally  so  employed  is  everywhere  recognized, 
and  they  therefore  find  a  place  in  the  .several 
enumerations  of  the  modes  of  revelation  (Nu  12*, 
Dt  I3'-5,  1  S  28«-  «,  Jl  2=8,  Ac  2",  Jer  2??-  =»  23=s-  ^'- 
27"  29',  Zee  10=:  Job  4"  33>'  stand  somewhat 
ajjart).  In  this  matter,  too,  the  Son  of  Sirach  re- 
tains the  TSibljpftl  viow.  explicitly  recognizing  that 
dreams  miy  1..-  ~,-n\  by  the  Most  High  in  the 
very  pas-  il,  in  ^^  lurh  lie  reproves  the  folly  of  look- 
ingupuii  .h.niii-  HI  l:.  iieral  as  sources  of  knowledge 
(34^).  The  »iipcr>ULiuus  attitude  characteristic  of 
the  whole  heathen  world,  which  regards  all  dreams 
a.s  omens,  and  seeks  to  utilize  them  for  purposes 
of  divination,  receives  no  support  whatever  from 
the  Biblical  writers.  Therefore  in  Israel  there 
arose  no  '  houses  of  dreams,'  there  was  no  place 
for  a  guild  of  '  dream-examiners '  or  '  dream- 
critics.'  When  on  rare  occasions  God  did  vouch- 
safe symbolical  dreams  to  men,  the  professed 
dream  -  interpreters  of  the  most  highly  trained 
castes  stood  helpless  before  them  (Gn  37.  40.  41, 
Dn  2.  4).  The  interpretation  of  really  God-sent 
dreams  belonged  solely  to  God  Him.self,'the  sender, 
and  only  His  messengers  could  read  their  purport. 
There  could  be  no  more  striking  indication  of  the 
gulf  that  divides  the  Biblical  and  the  ethnic  views 


of  dreams.  If  there  is  a  hint  of  an  overestimate 
of  dreams  among  some  Israelites  (Jer  23="-  27'), 
this  is  mentioned  only  to  be  condemned,  and  is 
obviously  a  trait  not  native  to  Israel,  but,  like  all 
the  soothsaying  in  vogue  among  the  ill-instructed 
of  the  land,  borrowed  from  the  surrounding  heathen- 
ism (cf.  Lehmann,  Aberglaube  und  Zauberei,  p.  56). 
If  there  are  possible  suggestions  that  there  were 
methods  by  which  prophetic  dreams  were  sought 
(Jer  29**,  1  S  28"-  '^),  these  suggestions  are  obscure, 
and  involve  no  commendation  of  such  usages  as 
prevailed  among  the  heathen.  All  the  sujjer- 
natural  dreams  mentioned  in  the  Bible  were  the 
unsought  gift  of  Jehovah  ;  and  there  is  not  the 
slightest  recommendation  in  the  Scriptural  narra- 
tive of  any  of  the  superstitious  practices  of  either 
seeking  or  interpreting  dreams  which  constitute 
the  very  nerve  of  ethnic  dream-lore  (cf.  F.  B. 
Jevons  in  Hastings'  DB  i.  622). 

Very  exaggerated  language  is  often  met  with 
regarding  the  place  which  supernatural  dreams 
occupy  in  Scripture.  The  writer  of  the  article 
'  Songes '  in  Lichtenberger's  Encyc.  des  Sciences 
Relig.  (xi.  641),  for  example,  opens  a  treatment  of 
the  subject  dominated  by  this  idea  with  the  state- 
ment that,  '  as  everyivhere  in  antiquity,  dreams 
play  a  preponderant  role  in  the  religion  of  the 
Hebrews.'  Even  M.  Bouche-Leclercq,  who  usually 
studies  precision,  remarks  that  '  the  Scriptures 
are  filled  with  apparitions  and  prophetic  dreams ' 
(Histoire  de  la  divination  dcuis  VantiquiK,  i.  278). 
Nothing  could  be  more  contrary  to  the  fact.  The 
truth  is  the  .supernatural  dream  is  a  very  uncom- 
mon phenomenon  in  Scripture.  Although,  as  we 
have  seen,  dreams  are  a  recognized  mode  of  Divine 
communication,  and  dream  -  revelations  may  be 
presumed  therefore  to  have  occurred  througliout 
the  whole  history  of  revelation  ;  yet  verj-  few  are 
actually  recorded,  and  they  oddly  clustered  at  two 
or  three  critical  points  in  the  development  of  Israel. 
Of  each  of  the  two  well-marked  types  of  super- 
natural dreams  (cf.  Baur,  Symbolik  und  Myth- 
ologie,  II.  i.  142)— those  in  which  direct  Divine 
revelations  are  communicated  (Gn  15'=  20'-  *  28''-' 
31'"-",  1  K  3=,  Mt  r^"  2'2-'3-'s-"  27'»)  and  sym- 
bolical dreams  which  receive  Divine  interpreta- 
tions (Gn  37'-  "• '"  40=-'«  41'- ',  Jg  7'^'=,  Dn  2'-  '•  =« 
4'  7') — only  some  half-score  of  clear  instances  are 
given.  Ail  the  .symbolical  dreams,  it  will  be 
observed  further,  with  the  exception  of  the  one 
recorded  in  Jg  7'^"'*  (and  this  may  have  been  only 
a  '  providential '  dream),  occur  in  the  histories  of 
Joseph  and  Daniel  ;  and  all  the  dreams  of  direct 
Divine  communication,  with  the  exception  of  the 
one  to  Solomon  (1  K  3'),  in  the  histories  of  the 
nativity  of  Israel  or  of  the  nativity  of  Israel's  Re- 
deemer. In  effect,  the  patriarchal  stories  of  the 
Book  of  Genesis,  the  story  of  Daniel  at  the  palace 
of  the  kin",  and  the  story  of  the  birth  of  Jesus,  are 
the  sole  depositions  of  supernatural  dreams  in 
Scripture  ;  the  apparent  exceptions  (Jg  7's-">,  1  K 
3',  Mt  27")  maj'  be  reduced  to  the  single  one  of 
1  K35. 

Tlie  significance  of  the  marked  clustering  of 
recorded  supernatural  dreams  at  just  these  his- 
torical points  it  is  not  easy  to  be  perfectly  sure  of. 
Perhaps  it  is  only  a  part  of  the  general  tendency 

'  of  the  supernatural    manifestations    recorded    in 
Scripture  to  gather  to  the  gi-eat  historical  crises ; 

1  throughout  Scripture  the  creative  epochs  .are  the 
supernaturalistic  epochs.     Perhaps,  on   the  other 

I  hand,  it  may  be  connected  Avith  the  circumstance 

I  that  at  just  these  particular  periods  God's  people 
were  brought  into  particularly  close  relations  with 

!  the  outside  world.     We    have    but   to   think   of 
Abraham  and  Abimelech,  of  Jacob  and   Laban, 

j  of  .Joseph  and  Pharaoh,  of  Daniel  and  Nebuchad- 

I  nezzar,  of  Joseph  and  tlie  Magi,  to  observe  how 


DREAM 


DEEAM 


495 


near  at  hand  the  suggestion  lies  tliat  the  choice  of 
dreams  in  these  instances  as  tlie  medium  of  revela- 
tion has  some  connexion  with  the  relation  in  which 
the  recipient  stood  at  the  moment  to  influences 
arising  from  the  outer  world,  or  at  least  to  some 
special  interaction  between  Israel  and  that  world. 

In  entertaining  such  a  conjecture  we  must  beware,  however, 
of  imagining:  that  there  was  something  heathenish  in  the  recog- 
nition of  dreams  as  vehicles  of  revelation ;  or  even  of  unduly 
depreciating  dreams  among  the  vehicles  of  revelation.  It  has 
become  quite  usual  to  speak  of  dreams  as  the  lowest  of  the 
media  of  revelation,  with  the  general  implication  either  that 
the  revelations  given  through  them  cannot  rise  very  high  in 
the  scale  of  revelations,  or  at  least  that  the  choice  of  dreams  as 
their  vehicle  imr  !ies  something  inferior  in  the  qualification  of 
the  recipients  for  receiving  revelations.  There  is  very  little 
Scriptural  support  for  such  representations.  No  doubt,  there  is 
a  certain  gradation  in  dignity  indicated  in  the  methods  of 
revelation.  Moses'  pre  -  eminence  was  marked  by  Jehovah 
speaking  with  him  *  mouth  to  mouth,'  manifestly,  while  to 
others  lie  made  Himself  known  'iti  a  vision,' or  'in  a  dream' 
(Nu  126).  And  it  is  possible  that  the  order  in  which  the  various 
methods  of  revelation  are  enumerated  in  such  passages  as  Dt 
131, 1 S  286- 16,  Jl  228,  Ac  2"  may  imply  a  gradation  in  which  reve- 
lation through  dreams  may  stand  at  the  foot.  But  these  very 
passages  establish  dreams  among  the  media  statedly  used  by 
God  for  the  revelation  of  His  will,  and  drop  no  word  depreciatory 
of  them  :  nor  is  there  discoverable  in  Scripture  any  justification 
for  conceiving  the  revelations  made  through  them  as  less  valu- 
able than  those  made  through  other  media  (cf.  Kdnig,  OJen- 
barungsbegriff,  i.  65,  ii.  9f.,  63  f.). 

It  is  very  misleading  to  say,  for  example  (Barry  in  Smith's 
DB  i.  617  ;  cf.  Orelli,  op.  cit.),  that '  the  greater  number'  of  the 
recorded  supernatural  dreams  '  were  granted,  for  prediction  or 
for  warning,  to  those  who  were  aliens  to  the  Jewish  covenant ' ; 
and  when  they  were  given  to  God's  'chosen  servants,  they 
were  almost  always  referred  to  the  periods  of  their  earliest  and 
most  imperfect  knowledge  of  Him';  and   ' "i^-^"-^,.  *^^'r  k«. 

many  of  these 
IS ;  they  do  not 
mark  any  particular  stage  of  religious  development  in  their 
recipients  ;  they  do  not  gradually  decrease  with  the  progress  of 
revelation  ;  they  no  more  characterize  the  patriarchal  age  than 
that  of  the  exile  or  the  opening  of  the  new  dispensation.  If  no 
example  is  recorded  during  the  whole  period  from  Solomon  to 
Daniel ;  so  none  is  recorded  from  the  patriarchs  to  Solomon, 
or  again  from  Daniel  to  our  Lord.  If  the  great  writing-pro- 
phets assign  none  of  their  revelations  to  dreams,  they  yet  refer 
to  revelations  by  dreams  in  such  a  way  as  to  manifest  their 
recognition  of  them  as  an  ordinarv  medium  of  revelation  (Jer 
2326. 28. 32  279  298,  Zeo  102).     These  passages  are  often  adduced, 


characteristic  of 

sometimes  represented  that  Jeremiah  means  to  brand  dream- 
revelations  as  such  as  lying  revelations.  Jeremiah's  polemic, 
however,  is  not  directed  against  any  one  particular  method  of 
revelation,  but  against  false  claims  to  revelation  by  any  method. 
His  zeal  burns  no  more  hot  against  the  prophet  that  *hath  a 
dream '  than  against  him  that  '  hath  the  Lord's  word '  (232S)  ; 
no  more  against  those  that  cry,  '  I  have  dreamed,  I  have 
dreamed,'  than  against  those  who  '  take  their  tongue  and  say. 
He  saith '  (2325-  31).  Nor  does  Zechariah's  careful  definition  of 
his  visions  as  received  waking,  though  coming  to  him  at  night 
(18  4I),  involve  a  depreciation  of  revelations  through  dreams ; 
it  merely  calls  our  attention  to  the  fact,  otherwise  copiouslv 
illustrated,  that  .all  night-visions  are  not  dreams  (cf.  On  1.')12 
2624  462,  Nu  2220,  1  ch  173,  2  Ch  712,  Job  413  jQS  3315,  Dn  2", 
Ac  169, 189  2311  2724). 

The  citation  in  Ac  2"  of  the  prediction  of  Jl  2^ 
suffices  to  show  that  there  rested  no  shadow  upon 
the  '  dreaming  of  dreams '  in  the  estimation  of  the 
writers  of  the  NT.  Rather  this  was  in  their  view 
one  of  the  tokens  of  the  Messianic  glory.  Never- 
theless, as  we  have  seen,  none  of  them  except 
Matthew  records  instances  of  the  supernatural 
dream.  In  the  Gospel  of  Matthew,  however,  no 
fewer  than  five  or  six  instances  occur.  Some  doubt 
may  attach,  to  be  sure,  to  the  nature  of  the  dream 
of  Pilate's  wife  (27'^).  The  mention  of  it  was  cer- 
tainly not  introduced  by  Matthew  idly,  or  for  its 
own  sake  ;  it  forms  rather  one  of  the  incidents 
which  he  accumulates  to  exhibit  the  atrocity  of 
the  judicial  murder  of  Jesus.  Is  his  meaning  that 
thus  God  Himself  intervened  to  render  Pilate 
utterly  without  excuse  in  his  terrible  crime  (so 
Keil,  in  loc.)"!  Even  so  the  question  would  still 
remain  open  whether  the  Divine  intervention  was 
direct  and  immediate,  in  the  mode  of  a  special 
revelation,  or  indirect  and  mediate,  in  the  mode 
of  a   ])rovidential   determination.      In   the  latter 


contingency,  this  dream  would  take  its  place  in  a 
large  class,  naturally  mediated,  but  induced  by 
God  for  the  guidance  of  the  affairs  of  men— another 
instance  of  which,  we  have  already  suggested,  may 
be  discovered  in  the  dream  of  the  Midianitish  man 
mentioned  in  Jg  7'^''^  (so  Nosgen,  in  loc).  In  this 
case,  the  hve  instances  of  the  directly  supernatural 
dream  which  Matthew  records  in  his  '  Gospel  of 
the  infancy  '  stand  alone  in  the  NT. 

In  any  event,  this  remarkable  series  of  direct 
Divine  revelations  through  dreams  (Mt  1™  2'2-  "• 
i».  22)  forms  a  notable  feature  of  this  section  of 
Matthew's  Gospel,  and  contributes  its  share  to 
marking  it  ott'  as  a  section  apart.  On  this  account, 
as  on  others,  accordingly,  this  section  is  .sometimes 
contrasted  unfavourably  with  the  corresponding 
section  of  the  Gospel  of  Luke.  In  that,  remarks, 
for  example,  Reuss  (La  Bible,  NT,  i.  138),  the 
angel  visitants  address  waking  hearers,  tlie  in- 
spiration of  the  Spirit  of  God  renew.s  veritable 
prophecy,  '  it  is  a  living  world,  conscious  of  itself, 
that  appears  before  us ' ;  in  this,  on  the  contrary, 
'  the  form  of  communication  from  on  high  is  the 
dream, — the  form  the  least  perfect,  the  least  ele- 
vated, the  least  reassuring.'  Others,  less  preoccu- 
pied with  literary  problems,  fancy  that  it  is  the 
recipients  of  these  dream-revelations  rather  than 
the  author  of  the  narrative  to  whom  they  are 
derogatory.  Thus,  for  example,  we  are  told  that, 
like  the  Magi  of  the  East  and  the  wife  of  Pilate, 
Joseph  '  was  thought  worthy  of  communion  with 
the  unseen  world  and  of  communications  from 
God's  messenger  only  when  in  an  unconscious 
state,'  seeing  that  he  was  not  ripe  for  the  manifes- 
tation of  the  angel  to  him,  as  to  Zacharias  and 
Mai-y,  when  awake  (Nebe,  Kindheitsgeachichte, 
212,  cf.  368).  Of  course,  there  is  nothing  of  all  this 
in  the  narrative,  as  there  is  nothing  to  justify  it 
in  any  Scripture  reference  to  the  signiKcance  of 
revelation  through  dreams.  The  narrative  is 
notable  chiefly  for  its  simple  dignity  and  direct- 
ness. In  three  of  the  instances  we  are  merely  told 
that  'an  angel  of  the  Lord  appeared  to  Joseph,' 
and  in  the  other  two  that  he  or  the  Magi  were 
'warned  of  God'  in  a  dream,  i.e.  either  by  way 
of,  or  during,  a  dream.  The  term  employed  for 
'appearing'  (^aiVu)  marks  the  phenomenal  object- 
ivity of  the  object:  Joseph  did  not  see  in  his 
dream-image  something  wliich  he  merely  inter- 
preted to  stand  for  an  angel,  but  an  angel  in  his 
proper  phenomenal  presentation  (see  Grimm-Thayer, 
s.v.  SoKia,  ad  fin.  ;  Trench,  Syn.  NT,  §  Ixxx.  : 
Schmidt,  Griech.  Syn.  c.  15).  The  term  translated 
'  warned  of  God '  (xpi7M"'''s'ai)  imjjorts  simply  an 
authoritative  communication  of  a  declaration  of 
the  Divine  will  (so,  e.g.,  Weiss,  Keil,  Alexander, 
Broadus,  Nebe),  and  does  not  presuppose  a  prece- 
dent inquiry  (as  is  assumed,  e.g.,  by  Bengel,  Meyer, 
Frltzsche).  The  narratives  confine  tliemselves, 
therefore,  purely  to  declaring,  in  the  simplest  and 
most  direct  manner,  that  the  dream-communica- 
tions recorded  were  from  the  Lord.  Any  hesitancj' 
we  may  experience  in  reading  them  is  not  suggested 
by  them,  but  is  imported  from  our  own  personal 
estimate  of  the  fitness  of  dreams  to  serve  as  media 
of  Divine  communications. 

It  is  probable  tliat  the  mere  appearance  of 
dreams  among  the  media  of  revelation  recognized 
by  Scripture  constitutes  more  or  less  of  a  stumbling- 
block  to  most  reader.s  of  the  Bible.  The  disordered 
phantasmagoria  of  dreams  seems  to  render  them 
peculiarly  unfit  for  such  a  use.  The  superstitious 
employment  of  them  by  all  nations  in  the  lower 
stages  of  culture,  including  not  only  the  nation.s 
of  classical  antiquity,  but  also  those  ancient  peoples 
with  whom  Israel  stood  in  closest  relations,  sug- 
gests further  hesitancy.  We  naturally  question 
whetlier  we  are  not  to  look  upon  their  presence  in 


496 


DREAM 


DREAM 


the  Scripture  narrative  just  as  we  look  upon  them 
in  the  Gilgames  epic  or  the  annals  of  Assurbani- 
pal,  on  the  stele  of  Bentrest  or  the  inscriptions  of 
karnak,  in  the  verses  of  Homer  or  the  histories  of 
Herodotus.  AVe  are  not  without  temptation  to  say 
shortly  with  Kant  (Anthropologic,  i.  §  29),  '  ^\e 
must  not  accept  dream-tales  as  revelations  from 
the  invisible  world.'  And  we  are  pretty  sure,  if 
we  begin,  with  Witsius,  with  a  faithful  recognition 
of  the  fact  that  'God  has  seen  fit  to  reveal  Himself 
not  only  to  the  waking,  but  sometimes  also  to  the 
sleeping,"  to  lapse,  like  him,  at  once  into  an  apolo- 
getical  vein,  and  to  raise  the  question  seriously, 
'  Why  should  God  wish  to  manifest  Himself  in  tliis 
singular  way,  by  night,  and  to  the  sleeping,  when 
the  manifestation  must  appear  obscure,  uncertain, 
and  little  suited  either  to  the  dignity  of  the  matters 
revealed  or  to  the  use  of  those  to  wliom  the  revela- 
tion is  made?'  (de  Prophetis  et  Prophetia,  ch.  v.  in 
Miscell.  Sacra,  i.  pp.  22-27 ;  cf.  also  Spanheim, 
Duhia  Evangelica,  2nd  pt.,  Geneva,  1700,  pp.  239- 
240,  and  Rivetus,  in  Gen.  Exercit.  cxxiv.). 

We  have  already  pointed  out  how  little  there  is 
in  common  between  the  occasional  employment  f>f 
dreams  for  revelations,  such  as  meets  us  "in  Si  rip 
ture,  and  the  superstitious  view  of  dreams  pr(  ■  \ :  1 1  ■  1 1 1 
among  the  ancients.  It  is  an  under- statLimiu 
when  it  is  remarked  that '  the  Scriptures  start  from 
a  spiritual  height  to  which  the  religious  conscious- 
ness of  the  heathen  world  attained  only  after  a 
long  course  of  evolution,  and  tlien  only  in  the  case 
of  an  isolated  genius  like  Plato '  ( Jevons,  loc.  cit. 
622).  The  ditt'erence  is  not  a  matter  of  degree, 
but  of  kind.  No  special  sacredness  or  significance 
is  ascribed  by  the  Scriptures  to  dreams  in  general. 
No  class  or  variety  of  dreams  is  recommended  by 
them  to  our  scrutiny  that  we  may  through  this  or 
that  method  of  interpretation  seek  guidance  from 
them  for  our  life.  The  Scriptures  merely  atiirm 
that  God  has  on  certain  specific  occasions,  in 
making  known  His  will  to  men,  chosen  to  ap- 
proach them  through  the  medium  of  their  night- 
visions  ;  and  has  througli  these  warned  them  of 
danger,  awakened  theni  to  a  sense  of  wrong-doing, 
communicated  to  them  His  will,  or  made  known 
His  purposes.  The  question  that  is  raised  by  the 
affirmation  of  such  an  occasional  Divine  employ- 
ment of  (Irc.inis  is  obviously  not  whether  dreams 
as  siuh  |>i]s.sess  a  supernatural  quality  and  bear  a 
suiieiiiiitunil  uR-ssage  if  only  we  could  get  at  it, 
but  rather  whether  there  is  anything  inherent  in 
their  very  nature  which  renders  it  impossible  that 
(icicl  should  have  made  such  occasional  use  of  them, 
or  derogatory  to  Him  to  suppose  that  He  has 
done  so. 

Surely  we  should  bear  in  mind,  in  any  considera- 
tion of  such  a  question,  the  infinite  condescension 
involved  in  God's  speaking  to  man  througli  any 
medium  of  communication.  There  is  a  .sense  in 
which  it  is  derogatory  to  God  to  suppose  Him  to 
hold  any  commerce  with  man  at  all,  particularly 
with  sinful  man.  If  we  realized,  as  we  should,  the 
distance  which  separates  the  infinite  and  infinitely 
holy  God  from  sin-stricken  humanity.  We  should 
be  little  inclined  to  raise  questions  witli  respect  to 
the  relative  condescension  involved  in  His  ap- 
proaching us  in  these  or  those  particular  circum- 
stances. In  any  revelation  which  God  makes  to 
man  He  stoops  infinitely— and  there  are  no  degrees 
in  the  infinite.  God's  thoughts  are  not  as  our 
thoughts,  and  the  clothing  of  His  messages  in  the 
forms  of  human  conception  and  language  involves 
an  infinite  derogation.  Looked' at  sub  specie  mter- 
iritatis,  the  difference  between  God's  approaching 
man  through  the  medium  of  a  dream  or  through 
the  medium  of  his  waking  apprehension,  shrinks 
into  practical  nothingness.  The  cry  of  the  heart 
which  has  really  seen  or  heard  God  must  in  any 


case  be,  '  What  is  man,  that  thou  art  mindful  of 
him  ?  or  the  son  of  man,  that  thou  visitest  liira  ? ' 

It  should  also  be  kept  clearly  in  view  that  the 
subject  of  dreams,  too,  is,  after  all,  the  human 
spirit.  It  is  the  same  soul  that  is  active  in  the 
waking  consciousness  which  is  active  also  in  the 
dream-consciousness, — the  same  soul  acting  accord- 
ing to  the  same  laws  (cf.  Lehmann,  op.  cit.  p.  397). 
No  doubt  there  are  some  dreams  which  we  should 
find  difficulty  in  believing  were  direct  inspirations 
of  God.  Are  there  not  some  waking  thoughts  also 
of  which  the  same  may  be  said?  This  does  not 
in  the  least  suggest  that  the  Divine  Spirit  may  not 
on  suitable  occasion  enter  into  the  dream-conscious- 
ness, as  into  the  waking,  and  impress  upon  it,  with 
that  force  of  conviction  which  He  alone  knows  how 
to  produce,  the  assurance  of  His  presence  and  the 
terms  of  His  message. 

'The  psychologj'  of  dreams  and  \isions,'  writes  Dr.  0.  T.  Ladd, 
'  so  far  as  we  can  speak  of  such  a  psycholopry,  furnishes  us  with 
neither  sutficient  motive  nor  sufficient  means  for  denying  the 
truth  of  the  Bibhcal  narratives.  On  the  contrary,  there  are 
certain  grounds  for  confirming  the  truth  of  some  of  these 
narrati\es.  .  .  .  Even  in  ordinary  dreams,  the  dreamer  is  still 
tile  iRiiiKui  soul.    The  soul  acts,  then,  even  in  dreaming,  as  a 

ii!ii,\,     hi ...U  IS  within  itself  the  functions  and  activities 

I  II  of  the  ethical  and  religions  powers.  .  .  . 


1  the  1 


i  nothing  i 


1  actual  experience '  {The 


e|-esstlu-s;i:     M: I 

DOCtr.    Ul   ,SrM   ,,,r    ,-,    ,  ,,.,,.,.   ,    I 

So  little,  indeed,  do  emptiness  and  disorder 
enter  into  the  very  essence  of  dreaming,  that  com- 
mon experience  supplies  innumerable  examples  of 
dreams  thoroughly  coherent  and  consequent.  The 
literature  of  the  subject  is  filled  with  instances 
in  which  even  a  heightened  activity  of  human 
faculty  is  exhibited  in  dreams,  and  that  through- 
out every  department  of  mental  endowment. 
Jurists  have  in  their  dreams  prepared  briefs  of 
which  they  have  been  only  too  glad  to  avail  them- 
selves in  their  waking  hours ;  statesmen  have  in 
their  dreams  obtained  their  best  insight  into  policy ; 
lecturers  have  elaborated  their  discourses  ;  mathe- 
maticians solved  their  most  puzzling  problems ; 
authors  composed  their  most  admired  productions ; 
artists  worked  out  their  most  inspired  motives. 
Dr.  Franklin  told  Cabanis  that  the  bearings  and 
issues  of  political  events  which  had  baffled  his 
inquisition  when  aw'ake  were  not  infrequently 
unfolded  to  him  in  his  dreams.  It  was  in  a  dream 
that  Reinhold  worked  out  his  table  of  categories. 
Condorcet  informs  us  that  he  often  completed  his 
imperfect  calculations  in  his  dreams  ;  and  the  same 
experience  has  been  shared  by  many  other  mathe- 
maticians, as,  for  example,  by  \raignan,  GiJns, 
Wiihnert.  Condillac,  when  engaged  upon  his  Cours 
d'Etudes,  repeatedly  developed  and  finished  in  his 
dreams  a  subject  which  he  had  broken  ott'on  retir- 
ing to  rest.  The  story  of  the  origin  of  Coleridge's 
Ktibla  Khan  in  a  dream  is  well  known.  Possibly 
no  more  instructive  instance  is  on  record,  however, 
than  the  account  given  by  Robert  Louis  Stevenson, 
in  his  delightful  Chapter  on  Dreams  ('Thistle'  ed. 
of  Works,  XV.  250 flf.),  of  how  'the  little  people'  of 
his  brain,  who  had  been  wont  to  amuse  him  with 
absurd  farragos,  harnessed  themselves  to  their 
task  and  dreamed  for  him  consecutively  and 
artistically  when  he  became  a  craftsman  in  the  art 
of  .story-telling.  Now,  they  trimmed  and  pared 
their  dream-stories,  and  set  them  on  all  fours,  and 
made  them  run  from  a  beginning  to  an  end,  and 
fitted  them  to  tlie  laws  of  life,  and  even  filled  them 
witli  dramatic  situations  of  guileful  art,  making 
the  conduct  of  the  actors  psychologically  correct, 
and  aptly  graduating  the  emotion  up  to  the 
climax.  (See  Abercrombie,  Inquiries  Concerning 
the  Intellectual  Powers,  etc.,  part  iii.  §  iv.,  esp.  pp. 


DREAM 


497 


216-221  ;  Carpenter,  Principles  of  Mental  Physi- 
ology, p.  524  f.  ;  Lehraann  as  cited,  p.  411  ;  Vol- 
kelt,  Die  Traumphantasie,  No.  15  ;  Myers,  fftmian 
Personality,  etc.,  Nos.  417  f.,  430,  with  correspond- 
ing Appendixes). 

Instances  of  this  heightened  mental  action  in 
dreams  are  so  numerous  and  so  striking  in  fact, 
that  they  have  given  rise  to  an  hypothesis  which 
provokes  Wundt's  scoff  at  those  '  who  are  inclined 
to  think  that  when  we  dream  the  mind  has  burst 
the  fetters  of  the  body,  and  that  dream  fancies 
transcend  the  activity  of  the  waking  conscious- 
ness, with  its  narrow  confinement  to  the  limita- 
tions of  space  and  time '  ( Vorlesungen  iiber  die 
Menschen-  unci  Thierseele,  Lect.  xxii.  pp.  366-370, 
Eng.  tr.  pp.  323-324).  The  well-known  essay  of 
Lange  '  On  the  Double  Consciousness,  especially 
on  the  Night- Consciousness  and  its  polar  relation 
to  the  Day-Consciousness  of  Man,'  printed  in  the 
Deutsclie  Zeitschrift  fur  christliche  Wissenschaft 
und  christliches  Leben  for  1851  (Nos.  30,  31,  and  32), 
stUl  provides  one  of  the  most  readable  and  in- 
structive statements  of  this  theory.  But  English 
readers  will  be  apt  to  turn  for  it  first  of  all  to  the 
voluminous  discussions  of  the  late  Mr.  Frederic 
W.  H.  Myers,  Human  Personality  and  its  Sur- 
vival of  Bodily  Death  (London,  1903),  where  it  is 
given  a  new  statement  on  a  fresh  and  more  em- 
pirical basis.  In  Mr.  Myers'  view,  the  sleeping 
state  is  more  plastic  than  the  waking,  exhibiting 
some  trace  '  of  the  soul's  less  exclusive  absorption 
in  the  activity  of  the  organism,'  by  which  is 
possibly  increased  '  the  soul's  power  of  operating  in 
that  spiritual  world  to  which  sleep  has  drawn  it 
nearer'  (vol.  i.  pp.  151-152;  cf.  p.  135).  Accord- 
ingly, 'these  subliminal  uprushes'  which  we  call 
dreams,  these  '  bubbles  breaking  on  the  surface 
from  the  deep  below,'  may  be  counted  upon  to 
bring  us  messages,  now  and  again,  from  a  spiritual 
environment  to  which  our  waking  consciousness  is 
closed.  On  hypotheses  like  these  it  is  often  argued 
that  the  sleep'ing  state  is  the  most  favourable  for 
the  reception  of  spiritual  communications.  It  is 
not  necessary  to  commit  ourselves  to  such  specula- 
tions. But  their  existence  among  investigators 
who  have  given  close  study  to  the  phenomena  of 
dreams,  strongly  suggests  to  us  that  those  phe- 
nomena, in  the  mass,  are  not  such  as  to  exclude  the 
possibility  or  the  propriety  of  the  occasional  em- 
ployment by  the  Divine  Spirit  of  dreams  as  vehicles 
of  revelation. 

That  powerful  influences  should  occasionally 
arise  out  of  dreams,  affecting  the  conduct  and  the 
destiny  of  men,  is  only  natural,  and  is  illustrated 
by  numerous  examples.  Literature  is  crowded 
with  instances  of  the  efi'ect  of  dreams  upon  life, 
for  good  and  evil ;  and  the  personal  experience  of 
each  of  us  will  add  additional  ones.  There  is  no 
one  of  us  who  has  not  been  conscious  of  the  influence 
of  night  visions  in  deterring  him  from  evil  and 
leading  him  to  good.  The  annals  of  religion  are 
sown  with  instances  in  whiili  the  careers  of  men 
have  been  swayed  and  their  outlook  for  time  and 
eternity  altered  by  a  dream.  We  may  recall  the 
dream  of  Evagiius  of  Pontus,  recorded  by  Socrates, 
for  example,  by  which  he  was  nerved  to  resist 
temptation,  and  his  whole  life  determined  Oi  \\  e 
may  recall  the  dream  of  Patrick,  gnen  m  his  Con 
fession,  on  which  hung  his  ^\  hole  w  oi  k  as  apostle 
of  the  Irish.  Or  we  may  recall  the  dreim  of 
Elizabeth  Fry,  by  which  she  \\as  rescued  finni  tlie 
indecision  and  doubt  into%\hKli  she  fell  aftei  lu  i 
conversion.  The  part  played  by  ditams  m  the 
conversion  of  John  Bunyan,  John  Newton  James 
Gardiner,  Alexander  Duff,  are  but  well  known 
in.stances  of  a  phenomenon  illustrated  copioii'ily 
from  every  age  of  the  Church's  experience  Con 
verting  dreams'  are  indeed  a  lecognized  -variety 
VOL.  I.— 32 


(cf.  Myers  as  cited,  No.  409,  i.  pp.  126,  127),  and 
are  in  nowise  stranger  than  many  of  their  fellows. 
They  are  the  natural  result  of  the  action  of 
the  stirred  conscience  obtruding  itself  into  the 
visions  of  the  night,  and,  as  psychological  phe- 
nomena, are  of  precisely  the  same  order  as  the 
completion  of  mathematical  problems  in  dreams, 
or  the  familiar  experience  of  the  invasion  of  our 
dreams  by  our  waking  anxieties.  In  the  provi- 
dence of  God,  however,  they  have  been  used  as 
instruments  of  Divine  grace,  and  levers  by  which 
not  only  individual  destiny  has  been  determined, 
but  the  very  world  has  been  moved.  (Cf.  Delitzsch, 
as  cited,  and  'Dreams  and  the  Moral  Life,'  in  the 
Homiletic  Revieiv,  Sept.  1890). 

AVith  such  dreams  and  the  issues  which  have 
flowed  from  them  in  mind,  we  surely  can  find  no 
difficulty  in  recognizing  the  possibility  and  pro- 
priety of  occasional  Divine  employment  of  dreams 
for  the  highest  of  ends.  Obviously  dreams  have  not 
been  deemed  by  Providence  too  empty  and  bizarre 
to  be  used  as  instruments  of  the  most  far-reaching 
effects.  Indeed,  we  must  extend  the  control  of 
Divine  Providence  to  the  whole  world  of  dreams. 
Of  course,  no  dream  visits  us  in  our  sleep,  any 
more  than  any  occurrence  takes  place  during 
our  waking  hours,  apart  from  the  appointment 
and  direction  of  Him  wlio  Himself  never  either 
slumbers  or  sleeps,  and  in  whose  hands  all  things 
work  together  for  the  execution  of  His  ends.  We 
may,  now  and  again,  be  able  to  trace  with  especial 
clearness  the  hand  of  the  great  Potter,  moulding 
the  vessel  to  its  destined  uses,  in,  say,  an  unusufS 
dream,  producing  a  profoundly  arresting  effect 
upon  the  consciousness.  But  in  all  the  dreams  that 
visit  us,  we  must  believe  the  guidance  of  the 
universal  Governor  to  be  present,  working  out  His 
wOl.  It  will  hardly  be  possible,  however,  to  recog- 
nize this  providential  guidance  of  dreams,  and 
especially  the  Divine  employment  of  particularly 
moving  dreams  in  the  mode  of  what  we  commonly 
call  '  special  providences,'  witliout  removing  all 
legitimate  ground  for  hesitation  in  thinking  of 
His  employment  of  special  dreams  also  as  media  of 
revelation.  The  God  of  providence  and  the  God  of 
revelation  are  one  God  ;  and  His  providential  and 
revelational  actions  flow  together  into  one  har- 
monious effect.  It  is  not  possible  to  believe  that 
the  instrumentalities  employed  by  Him  freely  in 
the  one  sphere  of  His  operation  can  be  unworthy 
of  use  by  Him  in  the  other.  Those  whom  He  has 
brought  by  His  providential  dealings  with  them 
into  such  a  state  of  mind  that  they  are  prepared  to 
meet  with  Him  in  the  night  watches,  and  to  receive 
on  the  prepared  surface  of  their  souls  the  impres- 
sions which  He  designs  to  convey  to  them.  He 
surely  may  visit  according  to  His  will,  not  merely 
by  the  immediate  operation  of  His  grace,  but  also 
in  revealing  visions,  whether  these  visions  them- 
selves are  wrought  througli  the  media  of  their  own 
experiences  or  by  His  own  creative  energy.  It  is 
difficult  to  perceive  in  what  the  one  mode  of  action 
would  be  more  unfitting  than  the  other. 

Literature. — Some  of  the  special  literature  has  been  sug- 
gested in  the  course  of  the  article  A  good  general  account  of 
dream'^  in  their  relations  to  the  supernatural  ma\  be  found  in 
Alf  hehm3.nn  i  Aberqlaube  und  Zauberei,  &er  tr  ,  Stuttgart, 
1898,  p  389  f  At  the  foot  of  p  648  is  gnen  an  e\cellently 
the  geneial  subject  On  the  historj  of 
n  the  ntinns  into  contact  with  «h    ' 


the  Eihhral  \ 


Homerische  Theologn    §;}  J5  20  pp    1 
de)    Ronur    79    108    13)    160     Grander 
Romajis,  28-52      For  dreams  among,  the 
burners  RF  i    996-998     Jeui'!h  Ln  v 
Philo    de  Somnns      For  Patristic  \ien 


also  the 


Jlelij. 
or  the 


DRESS 


Benjamin  B.  Warfield. 


The  words  used  in  the  original  for  articles  of  dress  have  lost 
nuich  of  their  force  through  great  variation  in  translation  in 
the  AV.  For  clothes  in  freneral  hi^/jun.  occurs;  it  is  tr.  'cloth- 
ing,' Mt  715  ;  •  rnimnnt,'  Mt  ^  e.ii  28  283,  Lk  122a  ;  •  garment,'  Mt 
2211-12.  lucLTu.'.  ■^'  ;  I—  ^;:  Ml  r  u^arment,  a  mantle  or  cloak  ;  it 
is  tr.  'garmeiii       :  -l"^  235  27if5,  Mk  2'-i  627  (;r.t,  lo^d 

11'- 8  1316  15,2",  I  .Jn  131  12192a;  'cloak, '.Mt  6-1", 

Lk629;  'cloth.--,    i       -      ,     ::,    in  (Jrcek);  (plural) 'clothes,' Mt 
217  2418  266ii,  .Ml,  -        ■  ;  !       !"■  ;  '  r,.iTn.-iit,' Mt  118  1722731, 

Mk  93,  Lk  725  23--*,  .In  r,'  ■       I       -    .  i  l-i    -r  i.urple  robe  of  Jesus 


I  .Mk  1517.205 


:|»),  Lk  72 
long  garments  of  the 


both 


lie  Lrit-  stola—is  \ised  for  the 
long  clothing '  Jit  1238,  •  long 
robes''  Lk  20-«i ;  for  the  '  best  robe '  of  the  Prodigal  Son,  Lk  1622 ; 
for  the  'lone  garment'  of  the  Resurrection  angel,  Mk  165 — in 
the  parallel  passage  irrSr./ri-,  'garment'  is  used,  Lk  241.  ;t(Tfliv 
signified  an  under-garment,  and  is  tr.  in  EV  'coat'  in  Mt  S* 
lOlO,  Mk  69,  Lk  311  629  93,  Jn  192n.  The  plural  is  in  Mk  1463  tr. 
'clothes,'  though  in  the  parallel  passage  .Mt  26^5  /aaria  is  used. 
Closely  connected  with  clothes  we  have  hivrtov,  the  towel  with 
which  Christ  girded  Himself,  Jn  IS-i-S;  ^oi,5<if.o.,  'napkin,'  of 
Lk  192",  Jn  1144  20' ;  i06,m,  '  linen  cloth,'  of  Lk  2412,  jn  1910 
2ll5  6. 7  ;  ,„5<i,,  '  linen  cloth,'  of  Mt  27=9,  .Mk  1451-  52  ;  and  ?Uitk. 
'fine  linen,'  Lk  1619;  i^-iSru*,  'shoe,'  Mt  3"  lom,  Mk  17,  Lk  31" 
104  1522  2-235,  Jn  127;  o-«.5«X/.v,  'sandals,' Mk  69;  ?i...i,  'girdle,' 
Mt  34,  Mk  16,  '  purse,'  Mt  109,  Mk  68 ;  .rn,,,  '  scrip,'  Mt  IQl",  Mk 
68,  Lk  93  104 -2255. 36. 

All  the  references  to  clothes  in  the  Gospels  are 
to  male  costume.  There  are  very  few  indications 
of  the  materials  of  which  they  were  made  or  of 
their  shape.  John  the  Baptist  had  his  raiment 
((vSvixa.)  of  camel's  hair,  and  a  girdle  of  leather 
about  his  loins  (Mt  3^  I!)— like  many  a  roughly  clad 
man  in  Palestine  to-day.  The  rich  man  of  the 
parable  was  clothed  in  'purple  and  fine  linen' 
l^vaiToi),  Lk  16".  The  three  body-garments  com- 
monly mentioned  are  the  cloak  (iiidriov), — a  word 
used  also  in  the  plural  for  '  garments '  in  general, — 
the  '  coat '  (x^riliv),  and  the  girdle  (fiii-))).  The  head- 
dress is  never  definitely  mentioned,  but  we  know 
that  it  was  practically  universal  to  cover  the  head. 

These  references  indicate  that  the  clothes  worn 
by  Christ,  His  disciples,  and  the  great  majority 
of  His  adherents,  were  of  the  simplest  kind ;  but 
among  the  richer  classes  there  are  indications,  as 
is  seen  in  the  references  given  above,  of  more 
sumptuous  robes.  Indeed,  among  the  better  class 
of  townsfolk  it  is  probable  that  Jewish  costume  was 
largely  modified  under  Hellenic  and  Roman  influ- 
ence. In  dealin"  with  the  former  more  important 
subject,  the  probable  costume  of  the  founders  of 
Christianity,  the  most  hopeful  sources  of  informa- 
tion are  (1)  the  costumes  of  Jews,  and  (2)  the 
dresses  worn  to-day  among  people  of  simple  life  in 
modern  Palestine. 

1.  The  dress  of  orthodox  Jews  is  as  various  as 
their  language  and  lands  of  residence.  Neither  in 
the  head-dress,  nor  in  the  long  Sabbath  robes  of 
the  Rabbis,  nor  in  the  ordinary  under-garments, 
are  there  any  uniform  features.  There  are,  how- 
ever, two  special  garments  which  are  worn  by 
orthodox  Jews  the  world  over  ;  these  are  the  talllth 
and  the  arba'  kavphdth.  The  talllth,  or  praying 
"      ■  '       '     liout  3  feet 

I  >-.i'\\  c'liii.-r  li.urj-  :i  tassel  or 
n.i\\  II  .-I,  thr  ;.;■'/,.  l-;;,,-!,  con- 
U  tNvist,.,!  tonrtlirii,,  five  knots 
t'  taUith  is  always  worn  in  the 
prayer  time  :  it  then  covers  the 
head  aiul  sln.tiMcrs.  Jews  -who  affect  special 
sanctity— especially  those  living  in  the  Holy  Land 
— often  wear  it  all  day,  as  was  once  the  common 
custom.     In  the  Middle  Ages,  in  consequence  of 


tot 


shawl,  is  a  rectangular  woollen 
by  5,*  usually  «liili',  Midi  d.-nk 
of  the  sides.       I-'imi,i    .-m-l,    ciiii,- 

fringe  ;  thf-c  mv  Kn.l^^  n  .-i^  tin- 
sists  of  ei.L'ht 
(see  HnnnKi 
synaf;.i,suc-  .-i 


the  persecution  whicli  the  Jews  then  underwent  on 
account  of  their  religious  customs,  the  habit  of 
wearing  the  talllth  in  public  had  to  be  given  up  ; 
but  as  the  Jews  view  the  wearing  of  the  fringes  as 
a  religious  duty  (Dt  22'-,  Nu  153"),  they  made  a 
special  under-garment  to  carry  them.  This  con- 
sists of  a  rectangular  piece  of  woollen  or  even 
cotton  material,  about  3  feet  long  by  a  foot  wide  ; 
it  has  a  large  hole  in  the  centre  through  Avhich  the 
head  is  put,  .so  that  the  garment  comes  to  lie  over 
tlie  chest  and  back  like  a  kind  of  dou'o'.e  chest- 
protector.  At  the  four  corners  are  the  zizith,  and 
the  garment  is  known  as  the  '  four  corners,'  arbd 
kanphdth,  or  sometimes  as  the  talllth  katon,  or 
small  talllth.  It  is  worn  by  small  children,  but 
the  talllth  proper  only  by  a  boy  after  he  has  be- 
come bar  mizvah,  a  'son  of  the  Law,'  at  thirteen. 
As  the  earliest  mention  of  the  arbci  kanpMth  is  in 
1350,  it  is  manifest  that  it  cannot  have  existed  in 
NT  times.  With  the  talllth,  however,  the  case  is 
different.  It  is  certain  that  this  is  the  altered 
form  of  an  outer  garment  which  existed  in  early 
times,  and  was  known  in  Heb.  as  the  simlah  and 
in  Gr.  as  himation.  In  the  'hem'  or  'border' 
(Kpd<77re5o>',  Mt  9-»  1436,  jik  056,  Lk  8«)  we  have 
reference  to  the  fringed  border  of  the  cloak  ;  and 
even  more  definite  is  the  reference  in  Mt  23°,  when 
the  scribes  and  Pharisees  are  reproved  for  unduly 
lengthening  the  fringes  (to  KpaaweSa)  of  their  gar- 
ments. 

2.  The  clothes  of  the  ordinary /eWa/i,  or  peasant 
in  modern  Palestine,  are  five  in  number, — shirt, 
cloak,  girdle,  shoes,  and  head-dress. 

The  shirt  or  kamis  is  a  simple  straight  garment, 
extending  from  the  neck  almost  to  the  feet,  with 
short,  or  sometimes  long,  loose,  sleeves.  It  is 
usually  of  calico ;  it  may  be  of  linen.  Among 
th.&fellahin  it  is  white,  among  the  Bedawln  (who 
often  go  about  in  nothing  else)  it  is  dyed  blue.  It 
is  usually  open  in  front  more  than  half-way  to  the 
waist,  but  IS  brought  together  at  the  neck  by  a 
button  or  knotted  thread.  It  is  worn  night  and 
day. 

Over  the  shirt  is  fixed  the  zimnAr  or  girdle,  a 
most  necessary  article  of  clothino;.  It  may  be  of 
leather,  with  buckles,  or  woven  of  camel's  hair,  or 
of  brightlj'-dyed  silk  or  cotton.  The  woven  belt 
is  wound  tightly  two  or  three  times  round  the 
waist,  and  is  fixed  by  tucking  the  free  end  into 
the  belt  itself.  In  the  girdle  is  carried,  as  in  NT 
days  (Mt  10',  Mk  6"),  the  money,  often  knotted 
into  a  corner  of  a  handkerchief,  and  also  the  pen 
and  ink  of  the  learned  or  the  dagger  of  the  fighter. 
When  the  man  is  '  girded '  for  work  the  kamis  is 
hitched  up  to  the  tightened  belt,  as  high  as  the 
knees.  'The  upper  part  of  the  shirt  is  commonly 
drawn  up  loose  above  the  girdle,  so  that  a  consider- 
able space  is  left  between  the  chest  and  the  shirt. 
This  IS  known  as  the  ubb  or  '  bosom,'  and  in  this 
are  carried  many  things  ;  for  example,  the  bread 
and  olives  for  the  midday  meal,  the  seed  or  corn 
for  sowing  (Lk  &^),  or,  in  the  case  of  a  shepherd,  a 
newborn  lamb  or  kid  (cf.  Is  40"). 

In  order  of  importance  next  comes  the  head- 
dress, of  which  two  distinct  types  are  in  daily 
use— the  turban  and  the  kiifiyeh.  Under  both  of 
these  is  worn  the  tekktyeh  or  'arSktyeh,  a  small 
plain  close-fitting  cap  of  felt,  wool,  or  even  cotton  ; 
this  is  commonly  not  removed  even  at  night. 
When  one  has  worn  thin,  a  new  one  is  placed  on 
the  top,  so  that  two  or  three  layers  are  quite 
usual  ;  and  between  the  layers  the  fellah  keeps 
small  papers  of  value.  When  a  turban  is  worn, 
the  red  fez  or  tarbush  is  placed  over  the  skull-cap, 
and  the  leffeh  or  turban  is  wound  round  its  sides. 
The  leffcli  among  the  fellahtn  is  usually  of  parti- 
coloured cotton  or  silk,  red  and  white  or  yellow 
being  common.      In   the  towns  it  is  often  orna- 


DRESS 


DEESS 


499 


mented  with  yellow  silk  worked  in  patterns  ;  while 
the  haj  who  has  made  the  Mecca  pilgrimage,  and 
the  Druse,  wear  plain  white ;  and  tlie  shcrif  or 
'descendant  of  the  prophet'  wears  green.  The 
other  form  of  head-dress  is  more  ancient  and  the 
more  primitive :  probably  it  is  more  like  the 
peasant  dress  of  NT  times.  It  consists  of  a  kufiych 
or  large  napkin  of  white  or  coloured  cotton  or  silk, 
as  much  perhaps  as  a  yard  square,  folded  diagon- 
ally to  make  a  triangular  piece,  and  laid  on  the 
head  with  the  apex  backward ;  and  the  'akdl,  a 
rope-like  circle  of  camel's  hair,  laid  double  over 
the  top  of  the  head  to  keep  the  kufiych  in  position. 
The  free  ends  of  the  kufiych  are  wound  round  the 
neck  according  to  taste,  being  used  on  journeys  in 
the  hot  sun  to  cover,  at  times,  all  the  face  below 
the  eyes.  It  is  a  most  efficient  and  practical  head- 
dress, especially  when  worn  over  a  felt  tckkiych. 
The  napkin  referred  to  in  Lk  19-"  may  have  been 
of  the  same  nature,  and  the  napkins  of  Jn  11"  20', 
though  used  to  cover  the  face  of  the  dead,  may 
have  been  made  for  the  head  of  the  living. 

These  three  garments  are  the  essentials ;  in 
such  will  a  man  work  all  day,  and,  if  very  poor, 
even  go  journeys ;  but  in  the  latter  event  he 
would  be  an  object  of  pity  unless  he  had  a,n'abd 
or  cloak.  This  is  made  of  camel's  or  goat's  hair 
or  of  wool,  and  among  the  frllahin.  is  usually  of 
white  and  brown  in  stripes  or  of  plain  brown. 
The  superior  qualities  are  often  white  or  black. 
The  ordinary  'aba  is  made  of  a  long  rectangular 
piece  of  material,  with  tlie  sides  folded  in  and 
sewn  along  the  top  ;  it  is  thus  very  square,  when 
new,  across  the  shoulders.  It  1ms  no  sleeves,  and 
though  there  are  slits  just  below  the  upper  corners 
through  which  the  arms  may  be  put,  it  is  almost 
always  worn  resting  over  the  shoulders  and  upper 
arms.  It  extends  half-way  between  the  knees  and 
the  feet.  During  sleep,  especially  on  journeys 
when  the  traveller  has  no  betl,  it  is  made  to  ctiver 
the  whole  person,  the  man  either  wrajiiiinu  it 
round  him,  or,  if  there  is  a  sack  or  mat  on  w liitli 
to  lie,  curling  himself  under  it  as  under  a  blanket. 

Shoes  are  to-day  almost  universally  worn ;  but 
a, fellah  \\AW\  a  new  pair  of  shoes  will  often,  when 
outside  the  town,  prefer  to  .save  his  shoes  from 
wear  and  tear  by  carrying  them.  Sandals  are  still 
worn,  but  not  commonly  as  formerly,  when  the 
sandal  seemed  to  make  the  simplest  foot-gear 
(Mk  6»). 

The  co-luiiu.  ,,f  111,-  Palestiii.'  i.fasant.  .-ibovr 
descrilinl,  ^^,■l^  ]H..l.,Ml.ly,  witli  iio.I.mM  ,lil^.■l,■ll.•r^, 

in  materials  an. I  in  nu'  tin-  i-(.-hii i  ilu'  cnniiti^- 

folk  of  NT  aii.l  pn.-N'l'  times.  'I'la'  /,.',/,/.■  is  \\w 
equivalent  of  the  x'tw".  and  that  «as  th.'  /,.  Ihmuflt. 
of  the  OT.  Now,  as  then,  it  is  at  tinn-s  wuv.-n  in 
one  piece  without  seam  (.Jn  10-').  '\\\(''iiliii  is  the 
modern  equivalent  of  the  iVianoi',  tin'  simluh  ni  the 
OT.  It  was  the  outer  <l.iak  uln.li  mi-lit  not  be 
retained  as  a  pledge  aft. a  snn-i  i  -l'.,  ■.'■i'-").  It  is 
quite  possible  that  in  Ml  :.  '  tlna-  i  a  reference  to 
this.  The  Rabbis  state.l  I  lial  I  lie  reas.m  the  elo.ak 
mi^ht  not  be  removed  was  liriausi'  the  :.i^ilh  with 
their  blue  and  white  threads  wme  a  riaiiinilpr  of 
the  Law.  Christ  teachus  liere  that  when  a  man 
does  an  injury,  within  legal  limits,  as  in  taking 
the  shirt.  His  follower  nmst  be  prepared  to  go 
a  step  farther,  and  give  up  even  what  the  Law 
protects  him  in  keeping.  The  reversal  of  the  order 
in  Lk.,  though  more  intelligiblo  to  Gentiles,  misses 
the  special  referenep  ti,  t  he  .lewisli  Law.  Like  the 
modern  'aba,  the  himnfnni  «  as  east  aside  for  quick 
movement  (Mk  Ki",  .In  i:i'-'-),  left  aside  when 
working  in  the  lields  (Mk  i:}"*) ;  and  being  dis- 
pensed with  in  lighting,  might  prolitably  be  ex- 
changed for  a  sword  when  danger  was  near  (Lk 
22*').  It  might  be  spread  on  the  ground  to  form  a 
carpet  for  an  honoured  person  (Mt  21»),  and  might 


be  used  in  lieu  of  a  saddle,  folded  across  an  ass's 
back  (Mk  11'-*).  In  every  one  of  these  details  the 
use  of  the  modern  'aba  in  Palestine  could  furnish 
jiarallels. 

With  respect  to  the  x'tmv  in  two  separate  refer- 
ences (Mt  10'"  etc.  and  Lk  3"),  two  'coats,'  i.e. 
shirts,  are  spoken  of  rather  as  luxuries  than  neces- 
sities for  the  traveller — as  is  to-day  the  case  Avith 
the  kamis.  Two  '  cloaks '  would  be  such  unlikely 
baggage  as  not  to  need  mentioning. 

The  girdle  or  zunnCir  is  the  equivalent  of  the 
iiivi\,  as  is  specially  shown  in  its  use  as  a  purse. 
There  is,  however,  another  girding  referred  to  in 
some  passages.  John  the  Baptist's  girdle  may 
quite  probably  have  been  a  broad  'loin  cloth'  ex- 
tending from  waist  to  knee, — a  very  ancient  dress, 
— while  over  the  shoulders  hung  a  rough  coarse- 
haired  'aba.  It  is  not  unreasonable  to  suppose 
that,  like  the  modern  dervish,  he  wore  his  long  nair 
uncovered.  It  is  evident  that  his  costume  was  in- 
tentionally distinctive.  When  Peter  was  found  by 
the  risen  Master  engaged  in  his  old  business  of 
fishing,  he,  like  the  modern  Galilsean  fishermen 
when  fishing  near  shore,  was  probably  girded  only 
with  a  loin-cloth,  and  therefore  described  as 
'  naked '  (Jn  2P).  Christ  girded  Himself  with  a 
towel  before  washing  the  disciples'  feet,  to  make 
Himself  in  outward  form  more  like  a  slave  (Jn 
13''- ').  It  is  evident  that  in  the  crucifixion,  at 
least  of  Jews,  who  would  not  have  tolerated  abso- 
lute nudity,  the  victim,  after  the  removal  of  liLs 
clothes,  was  girded  round  the  waist ;  Peter  must 
have  understood  the  words  '  another  shall  gird 
thee '  as  foretelling  that  event  (Jn  21'*). 

The  long  garments  of  the  scribes  and  Pharisees 
find  their  modern  ccmnteriiarts  in  tlie  long  cloak 
used  by  Moslem  reli'^i.ms  leaileis.  the  jihbeh,  and 
in  the  velvet,  ]ilnsli,  and  silk  ruhes  of  gorgeous 
colours  favoured  l.y  the  leadin,u  Kabbis  of  the 
Aslikenazim  .le\\>,  ,iii  Sabbath  and  least-days.     In 

cit^-  life,   L:ai Ills   additional  to   those  described 

abi'ne  are  always  worn.  Over  the  Icainis,  hut 
hicluded  within'  the  girdle,  is  a  striped  coloured 
robe  reaching  to  near  the  feet,  called  the  kumbaz, 
and,  among  the  better  dressed,  over  this  is  worn 
the  sndriyeh  or  ornamental  waistcoat.  LebAs  or 
drawers,  thougli  utterly  despised  by  the  true 
Arab,  are  in  ( cimnion  use  in  towns.  Many  other 
varieties  of  i;arTiients  might  be  mentioned.  Those 
.alreaily  tianieil  ami  doubtless  others  all  had  their 
eonnleriiart-.  in  NT  limes,  but  there  is  no  hint 
lliai  any  liiil  the  siiii|ili'sl  forms  of  peasant  dress 
were  w.'.rn  l.y  (  lirist  an.l  His  disciples.  It  has 
in.lee.l  liei'ii  tli.iii.jlit  thai  tlie  garments  divided 
by  the  soldi,  is  miisi  ti.'.  .s-arily  have  been  five,  of 
which  four,  the  .  l..ak  ii.iore.i),  the  shoes  or  sandals, 
the  girdle  ami  lie'  liea.l  .li.^s,  were  'divided  among 
them,'  and  the  fifth,  tli.'  x'™"  or  shirt  of  finer 
quality,  woven  perhaps  by  the  hands  of  His  mother 
herself,  apportioned  by  lot. 

The  ffToXiJ  was  evidently  considered  among  the 
circle  of  Jesus  a  robe  of  dignity ;  it  is  the  '  best 
rolie"  liiiiiiLjlit  f.iiili  for  the  returning  prodigal ;  it 
isnseil  1..  il.M  ril..'  I  he  clothing  of  the 'young  man' 
at  th.'  lemli  (_Mk  IG''),  and  the  imposing  garments 
of  the.serihcs(Lk:JU*'etc.). 

The  unsatisfactoriness  of  patching  with  new 
cloth  a  much  worn  garment  (Mt  9'",  ilk  2-'),  and 
the  ubiquitousness  of  that  scourge,  the  clothes- 
moth  (Mt  &^-  -",  Lk  12'"),  are  daily  to  be  seen  illus- 


trated   in   Palestine.     The    custom    of   jprovidiu] 
",uests  with    clean   'wedding    garments 


still 


known,  though  unusual,  in  the  modern  East.  But 
the  entertainment  of  the  very  poor  by  the  well-to- 
do  at  such  feasts,  evidently  then  tar  from  un- 
common, must  have  made  such  a  precaution 
absolutely  necessary.  In  the  account  of  the  '  rich 
man'  (Lk   16"),  we  have  reference  to  two  of  the 


DRINK,  DRINKING 


DROPSY 


expensive  materials  for  dress — the  purple  dye 
obtained  from  the  murex  on  the  coasts  of  Tyre, 
and  the  pixraoi,  or  '  fine  linen,'  which  was  imported 
at  pjeat  exjjense  from  E-^'pt. 

Reference  is  made  at  the  beKinninfj  to  the  various 
terms  used  to  describe  the  robe  put  on  Christ  by 
the  mocking  soldiers.  Of  these  the  -xXaixvi,  or 
military  mantle,  fastened  by  a  buckle  on  the  ri<'ht 
shoulder  so  as  to  hang  in  a  curve  across  the  body, 
would  appear  to  have  been  the  most  distinctive 
and  suitable  for  the  purpose. 

Literature.— Tristram,  Ensi.-rn  r„si..,n.<  in  Bible  Lands; 
Edersheim,  Life  and  Times  nf  J,  -i.,  //,,  Messiah;  art.  'Dress 
and  Personal  Adornment  in  .M^M>  r:i  !',i!r-iine,'  bv  Masterman  in 
Biblical  World,  1902;  Kmv  >.  k  ,  ami  l;,  nziiiger's  Heb.  Arch.; 
artt.  ■  Dress '  or  '  Costume  '  m  llastiii,'^'  IT,  (by  Mackie),  in  the 
Enct/c.  Bibl.  (bv  Abrahams  and  Cook),  and  in  the  Jewish  Encyc. 
(by  Noldeke).  '  E.  ^\■.  G.  MASTERMAN. 

DRINK,  DRINKING.— See  Eating  and  Drink- 
ing, Food,  Lord's  Supper,  Meals,  AVine. 

DROPSY.  — As  the  name  (Gr.  OSpuf}*  would 
seem  to  imply,  this  disease  is  characterized  by  an 
accretion  or  accumulation  of  water  in  the  cellular 
tissue  or  serous  ca^^ties.  In  the  only  place  in  the 
NT  where  a  reference  to  it  occurs,  no  mention  is 
made  as  to  whether  the  patient  sufteretl  from  a 
general  aruisarca  or  a  local  dropsical  swelling  (Lk 
14^).  The  writer  simply  uses  the  adjective  i'Spiii- 
TiKds  [sc.  avepimo^)  instead  of  tlie  noun.  This  is, 
however,  in  strict  accordance  with  tlie  usage  of 
Greek  medical  'Nmters,  as  we  have  it  in  the  works 
of  Hippocrates,  Dioscorides,  and  Galen.  That  the 
(Iisea.se  was  not  unknown  to  tlie  authors  of  some 
of  the  OT  \\Titings  appears  from  the  description  of 
the  trial  by  ordeal  of  a  wife  suspected  of  infidelity 
to  her  husband  (Nu  5""^').  In  vv.-'--  part  of  the 
punishment  Inflicted  on  the  guilty  woman  M-as  a 
dropsical  swelling  (cf.  Jos.  Ant.  III.  xi.  6),  which 
looks  as  if  dropsy  used  to  be  considered  as  an 
affliction  sent  by  God  upon  the  wicked  for  con- 
tinned  wilful  sin  (cf.  Ps  109'«,  and  see  also  the 
Mishnic  Ua.Qi^i^-Sh,ihl„,fh  xxxiii.  1),  and  esjiecially 
for  the  sin  cif  Mlf-iii.UiIuMiice  (cf.  Horace,  Carm. 
II.  ii.  13,  '  oves(  it  imhil-iii-^  sibi  dims  hydrops'). 

The  healing  of  tlie  iliiipsical  man  is  introilueed 
by  St.  liuke  as  part  of  a  nanatii  e  Mliicli  is  peculiar 
to  his  Gospel,  if,  indeed,  the  pai.tlih'  in  Lk  W^--* 
Ije  not  identical  with  that  in  .Mt  ±2-"— a  con- 
jecture which  does  not  seem  likely  (see,  Iiowever, 
Wright's  Synopsis  of  the  Gospels  in  Greek,  p. 
273  f.). 

St.  Luke  alone  of  the  Evangelists  tells  of  Jesus  being  invited 
to  partake  of  the  hospitality  of  the  Pharisees  and  of  His  accept- 
ing their  invitations  on  three  different  occasions  :  '  to  eat '  (T^**), 
■  to  breakfa-st '  (US'),  '  to  cat  bread '  (14').  It  was  on  one  of 
these  occasions,  as  lie  was  sitting  probably  at  breakfast  or  the 
midday  meal  (i;io~r«.,  v.l2)on  the  Sabbath,  that  He  healed  the 
dropsical  man. 

Like  the  story  of  the  healing  of  the  woman  with 
the  crooked  spine,  told  in  the  preceding  section,  it 
furnishes  a  vivid  illustration  of  the  way  in  which 
the  protracted  controversy  alx)Ut  the  Sabbath  rest 
was  conducted  by  Jesus  against  the  Pharisaic 
Sabbatarians  of  His  time  (cf.  Mk  2°-3^  Mt  12'-'=, 
Lk  6'-"  I3'»'",  Jn  5»-'8).  It  is  not  easy  to  deter- 
mine wliether  the  diseased  man  was  specially 
introduced  into  the  house  for  a  malignant  pur- 
pose, or  whether  he  appeared  there  unbidden  in 
order  to  claim  the  sympathy  and  the  help  of  Jesus. 
The  )uesence  of  iSov  seems  to  imply  that  tlie  latter 
w;is  tlie  case,  and  that  the  host  was  as  much  sur- 
prised as  any  one  else  at  the  turn  of  events.  In 
Hiiy  case  he  could  not  have  l)een  an  invited  guest, 
as  ,Iesus  could  not  in  that  event,  with  courtesy, 
have  dismissed  him  when  healed,  as  St.  Luke  says 
He  did   (iTre\v(xev,   v.*).      Whatever  was  the  im- 

•  Not  found  in   NT,   only   the  adj.   !,lp^T,xi!  occurring  in 


meili.itu  cause  of  the  man"s  presence,  Jesus  utilized 
till  u|.|iciitunity  thus  aftbrded  to  emphasize  once 
a;4aiii  11  is  tt  aching  on  the  Sabbath  question.  Here 
was  a  man  afflicted  with  a  most  inveterate  and 
dangerous  maladj%  indicative  of  deeply  rooted 
organic  disease,  and,  according  to  contemixirary 
belief,  springing  from  moral  as  well  as  from  physical 
sources.  It  was,  moreover,  a  disease  Aveli  known 
to  those  present  :  and  it  seems  to  have  been  more 
or  less  prevalent  in  that  region  down  to  recent 
times  (see  Jrirish  Inl,  lltgcnce,  1842,  p.  319). 


The  persistent  c 


of  the  espionage  to  which  Jesus  wa 


to  St.  Luke  (cf.  Lk  6'  20-M,  Ac  9"  ;  see  also  Mk  32  and  Gal  4i">. 

The  question  addressed  by  Jesus  on  this  occasion 
to  '  the  lawyers  and  Pharisees '  aptly  illustrates 
His  method  of  '  carrj-ing  the  war  into  the  enemy's 
camp  '  (cf.  13'°,  Mt  12"'-,  and  Lk  T^"-)-  The  ettect 
of  the  question,  which  placed  them  on  the  horns  of 
an  ugly  dilemma,  is  vividly  narrated.  They  Avere 
forced  to  be  silent  because  they  were  completely 
nonplussed  (oi  &i  iiavxaaav,  v.^).  This  verb,  wliicli 
occurs  in  the  NT  only  once  outside  of  St.  Luke's 
writings  (see  1  Th  4"),  is  often  used  in  the  sense  of 
a  silence  produced  by  superior  or  determined  argu- 
ment (cf.  Ac  11'8  21"  ;  .see  also  Neh  5'  LXX).  The 
nature  of  the  difficulty,  in  which  Jesus  placed  His 
enemies,  will  be  understood  if  we  remember  the 
almost  incredible  minuteness  with  which  the  law 
of  the  Sabbath  was  treated  by  the  Jewish  Rabbins, 
and  the  childish  way  in  which  they  regulated 
whether  a  phj-sician  should  perform  a  deed  of 
mercy  on  that  day  (see  Hchurer,  HJP  II.  ii.  \m. 
96-105  ;  Edersheim,  Life  and  Times  of  Jesus  t/ic 
Messiah,  App.  XVII.,  and  ii.  pp.  59-61  ;  Farrar, 
Life  of  Christ,  vol.  i.  pp.  431-441). 

Whatever  might  Ije  the  dillerences  between  the 
schools  of  Shammai  and  Hillel  as  to  the  class  of 
works  forbidden  on  the  Sabbath  day,  the  general 
practice  of  the  Jews  themselves  wa.s  based  on  the 
recognition  that  danger  to  life  superseded  the 
Sabbath  law,  and  the  question  of  Jesus  points 
out  this  with  force.  If  they  aUowe<l  a  man  to 
save  his  son  or  his  ox  from  a  position  of  imminent 
danger,  and  yet  considered  the  Sabbath  rest  un- 
broken, how  much  stronger  claim  had  a  man, 
suft'ering  from  an  incurable  malady,  upon  Him 
whose  power  to  heal  had  again  and  again  been 
manifested  t 

It  is  possible,  perhii  I-        ■  I  inent  of  scorn  in  Jesus' 

attitude  on  this  occa-i  ;  inn  of  the  words  wi«; 

and,3«ck  isatleast  rt'in  L  I  ,     1  ^    :  1  ts  to  vehemence  on  His 

part  in  pressing  the  111 -I  I  I  I  ■  Ti  ,  ry  feast  at  which  He  sat 
as  guest  was  a  proof  of  nisincenty  in  their  attitude.  How 
prevalent  the  abuse  of  Sabbath  feasting  became  amongst  the 
Jews  is  noticed  by  St  Augustine  (Bnarr.  in  Ps  911 :  •  Hodiernus 
dies  sabbati  est :  hunc  in  pr«senti  tempore  otio  quodam  cor- 
poraliter  languido  et  fluxo  et  luxurioso  celebrant  Judai '). 

St.  Luke  does  not  tell  us  plainly  whether  Jesus 
used  any  visible  means  in  ])ci  funning  the  cure  of 
the  dropsical  man.  He,  however,  uses  one  word 
which  may  point  to  a  treatment  similar  to  what 
He  emploj'ed  on  other  occasions  (cf.  (irmB^vai  tAs 
Xeipa^,  4«  13",  Mk  5=3  etc.,  and  oTrTco-tfai,  5"  22", 
Mk  1-",  Mt  20^  etc. ).  It  is,  of  course,  possible  that 
(Tri\a^6/i.fi>os  (v.^)  may  have  hezr.  used  by  the  writer 
of  the  narrative  to  coiTespond  with  the  word  ava- 
ffiraaei  (v.'),  in  order  to  einpfiasize  the  force  of  Jesus' 
argument,  and  that  Jesus,  in  actually  laying  hold 
of  the  dropsical  patient,  intended  to  convey  objec- 
tively the  lesson  which  each  one  of  them  ought  to 
have  learned  from  the  toil  involved  in  pulling  a 
drowning  animal  out  of  a  well. 

The  reference  to  the  '  well '  {eit  ippiap,  cf.  eis 
§l)9vvov,  Mt  12")  is  particularly  appropriate  when 
the  nature  of  the  disea.se  is  remembered,  and  shows 
how  wonderfully  every  incident  was  used  by  Jesus 
to  illustrate  the  lesson  He  meant  to  teach.      A 


DROWNING 


DUST 


501 


very  similar  instance  is  observed  when  He  com- 
pared tlie  woman  with  the  diseased  spine  to  the 
animal  which,  tied  to  his  stall,  required  to  be  loosed 
therefrom  even  on  the  Sabbath  day  for  his  daily 
watering  (Lk  13'^ ;  '  congruenter  hydropicum  ani- 
mali  quod  cecidit  in  puteum  comparavit ;  humore 
enim  laborabat,'  Augustine,  Qucest.  Evang.  ii. 
29). 

Literature. — Plummer,  'St.  Luke'  in  Internal.  Crit.  Com. 
in  toe. ;  Hastings'  DB  iii.  p.  3'28 ;  Trench  and  Taylor  on  Miracks ; 
Emyc.  Brit.  art. '  Dropsy.'  J.  R.  WiLLIS. 

DROWNING. — Drowning  never  was  or  could  be 
a  recognized  form  of  capital  punishment  in  so 
poorly  watered  a  country  as  Palestine,  as  it  was  in 
Assyria  and  Babylonia.  It  is  mentioned  in  Mt  18* 
(II  Mk  9^-,  Lk  17-)  as  a  fitting  reward  for  those  who 
'  oflend  one  of  these  little  ones  which  believe  in 
me.'  The  last  expression  may  either  be  taken 
literally,  or  this  utterance  of  Jesus  may  be  directed 
against  those  who  cause  the  simple  believer  to 
stumble  in  his  faith.  The  Greek  word  Karairov- 
Tlieiv  is  used  by  the  LXX  to  translate  the  Hebrew 
y3B  in  Ex  15*,  and  the  expression  used  by  Jesus 
may  he  a  reminiscence  of  the  drowning  of  the 
Egyptians  in  the  Red  Sea,  or  of  the  adventure  of 
Peter  (Mt  14**),  where  the  same  word  is  employed. 

In  the  Code  of  Qammurabi,  drowning  is  the  penalty  for  selling 
beer  too  cheaply  (C.  H.  W.  Johns'  Babylonian  and  Assyrian 
Laws,  Contracts,  and  Letters,  p.  .52  ff.),  as  well  as  for  more 
serious  offences.  The  keepers  of  the  beer-shops  appear  to  have 
been  women,  and  it  is  curious  that  drowning  seems  to  have 
l)een  considered  the  form  of  execution  proper  to  female  criminals. 
In  Moslem  law  as  defined  by  Abu  Hamfah  (d.  767  A.D.),ikiUing  by 
means  of  drowning  was  not  accounted  murder,  and  no  retalia- 
tion could  be  claimed.  T.  H.  WeiR. 

DRUNKENNESS.— Only  one  explicit  utterance 
of  our  Lord  relating  to  drunkenness  is  recorded  ( Lk 
21**).  Elsewhere  He  warns  against  it  indirectly, 
as  in  the  parables  where  He  holds  up  drunken 
.servants  to  reprobation  (Mt  24«  =  Lk  12«).  But 
His  references  to  the  vice  are  surprisingly  meagre. 
That  must  not  be  regarded  as  a  measure  of  the 


contemporary  extent  of  the  evil,  nor  as  indicating 

any" 

tude  to  the  matter  must  be  estimated  in  view  of 


•  lac! 


porai 
kof 


His  i)art.     Our  Lord's  atti- 


Hebrew  literature  provides  ample  proof  of  famili- 
arity with  its  unvarying  iiioial  and  social  con.se- 
quenees.  The  scandids  associalccl  ^\■ith  the  early 
Christian  love-feasts  (1  ('i>  1 1-',  .Imli' '-)  were  doubt- 
less partlyarecrudescencc. it  ].ir  (  111  isti  an  practices. 
While  excess  was  unsparingly  <(iiidemned  by 
moralists,  moderation  was  uniformly  commended. 
Occasional  maxims  hint  at  the  expediency  of 
abstinence  in  the  interests  of  moral  integrity  and 
personal  security.  But  where  that  is  actually 
practised,  it  is  invariably  the  outcome  of  pureljr 
religious  impulse.  It  would  seem  that  the  Nazi- 
rites,  the  Rechabites,  and  other  ascetics  realized 
that  indulgence  in  wine  was  inimical  to  spiritual 
life  (cf.  Lk  1"^),  or  inexpedient  in  situations  de- 
manding the  highest  possible  personal  purity,  or 
inappropriate  to  persons  of  singular  and  abnormal 
holiness  (cf.  John  the  Baptist,  with  whom  some 
seem  to  have  compared  Jesus  unfavourably,  Lk 
7").  To  the  ordinary  Jew,  however,  habitual  in- 
dulgence was  a  matter  of  course.  Abstinence 
required  strong  reasons  to  justify  it.  The  Baby- 
lonian Gemara  would  even  seem  to  suggest  that 
abstinence  might  be  a  positive  sin.  '  The  Nazirite 
has  sinned  by  denying  himself  wine.'  It  bases  this 
opinion  on  an  arbitrary  and  erroneous  interpreta- 
tion of  Nu  6-°  (see  Jewish  Encyc.  art.  'Drunken- 
ness '). 

Jesus  seems  to    have    adopted    the    prevailing 
popular    attitude.      He    instituted    no    campaign 


against  the  use  of  strong  drink.  He  made  it  no 
part  of  His  mission  to  denounce  indulgence.  He 
Himself  followed  the  ordinary  practices  of  His 
day,  both  using  wine  and  giving  His  countenance 
to  festivities  in  which  wine  played  an  important 
part  (cf.  Jn  2'").  His  various  references  to  the 
beverage  indicate  that  He  regarded  it  as  a  source 
of  innocent  enjoyment  (cf.  Lk  5*'-28-39  734  178) 
Nevertheless,  that  He  did  not  overlook  the  fact 
that  excess  was  common,  and  that  He  had  an  open 
eye  for  the  obtrusive  evils  of  over-indulgence,  is 
abundantly  evident  from  other  references,  as  in  the 
parables.  That  He  did  not  feel  called  upon  to 
command  or  commend  abstinence  in  spite  of  this  is 
partly  to  be  explained,  perhaps,  by  tlie  fact  that 
drunkenness  was  the  vice  chiefly  of  the  wealthy. 
That  seems  to  be  implicitly  recognized  in  Lk  21**, 
where  it  is  bracketed  with  surfeiting  and  subjec- 
tion to  the  cares  of  this  life,  faults  peculiarly  associ- 
ated with  the  rich  or  well-to-do.  In  the  parable 
of  the  Householder  (Mt  24«-'>'  =  Lk  12*=-«),  the 
drunken  characters  whom  He  holds  up  to  contempt 
are  servants  of  one  in  high  position,  forming  the 
manage  of  a  luxuriims  lidusehold  in  which  creature 
comforts  would  lie-  plentiful.  In  the  circles  in 
which  Jesus  llimscll  luiiicipally  moved,  and  to 
which  He  cliietly  iippcakMl,  excess  does  not  seem  to 
have  been  so  common  as  to  call  for  urgent  protest 
or  the  starting  of  a  crusade  against  the  use  of 
alcoholic  liquors. 

Christ's  attitude  to  the  whole  matter  was  deter- 
mined by  the  fundamental  purpose  of  His  mission. 
Drunkenness  in  general  He  regards  as  the  accom- 
paniment and  .symptom  of  a  carnal  unregenerate 
state  of  heart,  the  outcome  of  wickedness  that 
defies  restraint.  He  implicitly  recognizes  it  also 
as  strongly  contributory  to  spiritual  demoraliza- 
tion, as  inducing  such  blunting  of  the  spiritual 
sensibilities  and  disabling  of  spiritual  faculty  as 
incapacitate  the  soul  for  the  proper  exercises  of  the 
devout  life,  and  endanger  its  future  by  reducing  it 
to  a  state  of  unjirepaiedness  for  the  last  Divine 
ophe  (Lk  2P-'").  A.  M.  Hunter. 


DUMB.— See  Deaf  and  Dumd. 


DUNG. 


Agriculture,  p. 


DUST  (KovioprU.  Mt  10'^  Lk  9=  10",  Ac  13"  22=3 . 
Xi5os  =  xoi'S,  Mk  6",  Rev  18'".  The  former  means 
properly  dust  stirred  up  or  blown  about,  as  'a 
cloud  of  dust';  the  latter  simply  earth  or  soil 
thrown  down  or  raised  in  a  heap.  In  NT  the  two 
words  are  plainly  synonymous). — The  long  droughts 
and  fierce  heat  of  Palestine,  together  with  the  soft*- 
ness  of  the  limestone  rock — the  prevailing  forma- 
tion^— make  for  the  jiroduction  of  dust  in  great 
quantities.  In  high  Minds  it  penetrates  to  almost 
every  part  of  the  hou.ses.  The  peilesliiaii  suffers 
much  from  fretting  of  the  feet  by  tlie  .Inst,  which 
neither  sandal  nor  shoe  exclu.le^.  I'lii^  renders 
necessary,  as  well  as  pleasant,  the  wa.^hing  of  the 
feet  when  the  journey  is  done  (Lk  7^^). 

An  immemorial  token  of  giief  in  the  East  is  the 
casting  of  dust  upon  the  person,  especially  upon 
the  head,  or  the  laying  of  the  face  in  the  dust ; 
while  of  one  utterly  humbled,  it  is  said  that  he 
'licks  the  dust.' 

The  throwing  of  dust  in  the  air  is  still  a  not 
uncommon  way  of  expressing  rage,  or  emphasizing 
an  appeal  for  justice.  This  is  probably  meant  to 
show  that  Earth  herself  joins  in  the  petition  for 
redress  of  intolerable  wrongs. 

Our  Lord's  direction  that  'the  Twelve'  should 
shake  off  the  dust  of  the  cities  that  rejected  their 
message,  derived  special  significance  from  Jewish 
teaching.  The  very  dust  of  a  heathen  road  was 
held  to  produce  defilement.     To  shake  off'  the  dust 


502 


DUTY 


of  their  feet,  as  a  testimony  against  liouse  or  city, 
meant  that  it  had  passed  under  the  ban  of  their 
Lord,  and  the  symbolic  act  proclaimed  that '  nought 
of  the  cursed  thuis'  clave  to  them.  '  In  this  sense 
anything  that  .In.'  i..  a  i.i.-rxju  was  metaphori- 
cally called  ■■thr  ilii-l,  a~.  '  .'I..  ■■  the  dust  of  an  evil 
tongue,"  "thr  ilu~t  .if  u-urv  '  ;  .is,  on  the  other 
hand,  to  "du.^it  to  iJolulry  '  'meant  to  cleave  to  it' 
(Edersheim,  Life  and  Times  uf  Jesus  the  Messiah, 
vol.  i.  p.  644).  The  modern  Oriental,  if  asked  re- 
garding any  questionable  business,  will  daintily  giip 
the  lapel  of  his  robe  or  tunic  and  gently  shake  it, 
turning  aside  his  head  as  if  he  should  say,  'Not 
even  the  dust  of  that  transaction  has  touched  me.' 
"W.  EwiXG. 

DUTY.— In  the  widest  sense  of  the  word,  'duty' 
is  the  correlate  of  '  ought.'  *  AVhat  I  ought  to  be, 
to  do,  to  feel,  that  is  my  duty.  So  the  word  covers 
the  whole  content  of  the  moral  ideal.  But  both  to 
the  plain  man  and  to  the  phOosopher  duty  usually 
has  a  narrower  significance ;  and  this  we  must 
make  clear  before  we  can  trace  the  relation  of  the 
teaching  of  Jesus  to  the  conception  of  duty. 

Our  type  of  duty  is  the  soldier  ^^  ho  kept  guard 
at  his  post  when  Herculaneum  was  overwhelmed 
by  lava  and  ashes.  His  station  in  life  prescribed 
an  action ;  and  he  fulfilled  it.  What  his  motives 
were  we  do  not  ask ;  we  do  not  inquire  how  he 
felt  in  the  execution  of  his  task,  or  what  manner 
of  man  he  was.  He  did  what  he  was  commanded  ; 
he  did  his  duty.  A  man's  duty,  then,  at  any  time 
is  the  action  determined  by  his  station  in  life.  He 
stands  under  a  rule,  which  he  must  obey  and  apply. 
Such  obedience  does  not,  however,  cover  the  highest 
moral  excellence.  Two  men  both  do  their  duty, 
say,  to  the  poor ;  but  the  one  is  hard,  unsym- 
pathetic, the  other  benevolent ;  the  one  is  just,  the 
other  full  of  charity.  Although  in  point  of  duty 
they  do  not  difter,  we  feel  that  the  latter  is  a  better 
man  than  the  former ;  for  he  stands  nearer  to  the 
ideal  of  goodness.     This  is  the  popular  view. 

But  among  the  ancients  the  Stoics,  and  in  modern 
times  Kant,  have  judged  difterently.  They  ex- 
clude the  emotions,  and  measure  moral  worth  by 
the  degree  to  which  duty,  and  duty  alone,  is  the 
motive  of  action.  No  man  is  good  unless  he  obeys 
the  law,  simply'  bfiau^c  it  is  the  law.  Duty  for 
duty's  sake  is  th^-ir  watrhword.  'The  sage,' says 
Seneca.t  'will  sucd.ur,  will  do  good,  for  he  is  born 
to  assist  his  iVllnw,  to  labour  for  the  welfare  of 
mankind  ;  but  he  will  feel  no  pity.  ...  It  is  only 
diseased  eyes  that  grow  moist  in  beholding  tears  in 
other  eyes,  as  it  is  no  true  sympathy,  but  only 
weakness  of  nerves,  that  leads  some  to  laugh 
when  others  laugh,  or  to  yawn  when  others  yawn.' 
ICantt  argues  in  a  similar  way,  but  with  greater 
depth  and  sincerity,  that  philanthropic  action  has 
true  moral  worth  only  if  done  by  a  man  whose 
temijerament  is  cold  and  indifferent  to  the  suft'er- 
ings  of  others,  not  from  inclination,  but  from  duty, 
simply  because  he  respects  the  law  under  which  he 
stands.  Further,  the  moral  judgment  is  directed 
not  to  what  is  done,  but  to  what  the  a^ent  in- 
tended to  do,  to  what  he  has  willed  and  taken 
every  means  in  his  power  to  bring  about.  But 
even  this  needs  qualihcation.  Kant  holds  that  we 
must  leave  out  of  account  the  content  of  what  is 
willed,   and  simply   inquire  whether    the    law  is 

♦  The  word  '  dul.v '  occurs  onl.v  once  in  the  Gospels,  when 
Jesus  describes  as  unprofitable  servants  those  who  have  only 
done  what  it  was  their  duty  to  do  (Lk  IT'O).  The  word  in  the 
orig.  is  e9ii\cu,  a  verb  which  is  twice  used  in  Jn  (131*  197)  to 
express  the  idea  of  tuiu'titn^ss  or  moral  obli^tion  (EV  'ougrht'), 

morr  ns;i;Ti-n-;'--  : -         '  >■■    -•       For  examplcs  of  this  use  of 

iu  Ml  II"    i-n,  ,u  \  I,  M,3  see  Mt  2323  2527,  Lk  121:1 

Isi  I  t        I    I  <  ti  ^f? and  c^£|Aai  see  Crenier 

""'J  S,"n.      ,.  -■.    '        :.  '  -I  Jnll»5. 


DUTY 

obeyed  just  because  it  is  the  law.  And  so  we 
reach  the  bare  conception  of  duty  for  duty's  sake, 
and  tiiid  the  moral  law  reduced  to  the  mere  form  of 
universality.  The  ttesli  and  blood  of  goodness  have 
vanished,  and  we  are  left  with  the  spectre  of  a  law 
characterized  only  by  the  admission  of  no  exceptions. 

But  no  one  can  rest  satisfied  with  an  abstrac- 
tion. Kant,  therefore,  restores  content  to  the 
idea  of  duty  by  throwing  into  the  form  of  Law 
Universal  the  various  kinds  of  action  which  Society 
enjoins  or  forbids.  Thus  we  receive  a  code  of 
moral  laws,  each  demanding  unconditional  obedi- 
ence. But  this  is  not  always  possible.  Conflicts 
of  '  duties '  Avill  from  time  to  time  appear,  not  in 
the  sense  that  Duty  issues  conflicting  commands 
(for  under  any  given  circumstances  only  one  action 
can  be  right),  but  in  the  sense  that  one  of  two 
twrnuil  lines  of  conduct  must  overcome  and  contra- 
dict the  other.  Thus  arise  the  jiroblems  that  have 
cxcniscil  rasuists  and  made  real  tragedies.  Am  I 
til  irtii-i-  .iih.a-  to  kill  my  fellow-men  or  to  defend 
my  ...iiiiti  \  .'  Am  I  to  tell  a  lie,  or  to  become  the 
a(Vi.iii|ili..-,  Iiuwever  imwilling,  in  the  murder  of 
my  trieiul  ?  *  Such  problems  are  inevitable  and 
insoluble,  if  we  conceive  duty  as  a  group  of  co- 
ordinate and  absolute  laws  of  action.  Conflicts 
must  ensue  in  the  ajiplication  of  such  laws,  once 
the  ideal  systiMii  .ji  Jiiuial  relations  on  which  they 
are  based  laiK  to  rcrnsi.ond  point  for  pohit  with 
the  actual  system  in  \\liicli  they  claim  realization. 
But  the  woild  is  full  uf  imperfection  and  sin,  and 
every  man  has  sinned  and  is  weak.  Consequently 
the  only  possible  choice  may  often  lie  between  two 
lines  of  conduct,  both  of  which  are  ideally  wrong. 

Moreover,  if  the  moral  ideal  is  expressed  as  a 
code  of  rules  of  action,  morality  tends  to  become 
no  more  than  the  rigid  observance  of  ceremonies 
that  characterized  the  Pharisee.  Life  hardens  into 
conventionality,  if  the  emphasis  is  laid  on  doing 
rather  than  on  being.  We  do  not  deny  that  char- 
acter must  express  itself  in  action ;  that  charity 
without  works  is  a  contradiction ;  that  the  good 
will  cannot  be  formed  save  by  doing  good.  But 
deeds  are  particular,  and  relative  to  time  and 
place  ;  and  an  ethical  code  which  prescribes  or 
forbids  particular  acts  not  only  loses  touch  with 
real  life,  but  diverts  the  attention  from  the  si)irit 
to  the  letter.  In  the  same  way  the  institutions 
by  which  a  man's  station  and  duties  are  determined 
tend  also  to  become  rigid  and  conventional. 

Now  Jesus  Christ  did  not  promulgate  a  new 
code  of  morals  ;  nor  did  He  do  more  tiian  lay  the 
foundations  of  a  new  -society.  Had  He  instituted 
a  definite  social,  political,  or  ecclesiastical  order, 
or  prescribed  a  .scheme  of  duties  for  His  followers, 
the  gospel  would  have  possessed  for  Ethics  only 
an  historical  interest,  instead  of  aflbrding,  as  it 
does,  jjrinciples  by  which  we  may  criticise  every 
action  and  reform  every  institution.  The  words 
and  works  of  Jesus  are  a  well  of  living  water, 
from  which  all  men  of  whatever  time  or  nation 
may  drink.  We  do  not  disparage  organizations 
and  codes  of  duty.  They  are  essential  to  the 
realization  of  any  human  icleal  ;  and  it  is  the  part 
of  practical  Christianity  to  work  out  the  gospel  in 
a  moral,  social,  and  religious  order,  appropriate  to 
the  needs  of  each  generation.  In  order  to  use 
ideas  we  must  crystallize  them  ;  but  in  the  process 
they  become  half-truths.  The  life  of  Jesus  alone 
abides  as  the  truth,  reflected  and  refracted  on  the 
broken  surface  of  the  river  of  time. 

We  must,  however,  qualify  what  has  been  said  in  two  respects. 
.Jesu-4  guarded  the  s.1111  tiKir\'  of  tlie  family  b\- the  most  stringent 
r."  Ill  ,ii,,,i  ,,f -nv.ii.-i       TM-'m.i-  III!  II,. 1';  for  the  family  is  the 

I .,1  -I   1:^  T  ■'      ;   '  I u.     Where  it  does  not 

i.i,  ,    ,    |.   M     ,::  I      1.1.',     i  i^h    love  and  dut.v,  the 

nil, ,11  I.,     .11,,^      iini.  I  A-ain,  Jesus  instituted 

III..    iiiiK    saniuiiiiii  -    11    mIiiI,    m.    iiiu\-  participate  in  His 


•Up. 


,  pp. 


EARTHLY  AKD  HEAVENLY     503 


Nothing  can  be  gained  by  attempting  to  suui- 
inarize  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount.  It  is  enough  to 
emphasize  three  points. 

1.  Jesus  turns  the  judgment  and  attention  from 
the  outward  act  to  the  inward  motive,  to  the 
thouglit  and  feeling  from  which  the  act  springs. 
'  Ye  liave  heard  that  it  was  said  by  them  of  old 
time,  Thou  shalt  not  commit  adultery  :  but  I  say 
unto  you,  That  whosoever  looketh  on  a  woman  to 
lust  after  her  hath  committed  adultery  with  her 
already  in  his  heart '  (Mt  5"'-)-  A  standard  such 
as  this  must  shatter  the  Pharisaic  complacency 
that  accompanies  the  outward  observance  of  a 
code  of  duties. 

2.  In  the  same  way  Jesus  lays  stress  on  being, 
not  doing,  on  character,  not  action.  Blessed  are 
the  meek,  the  merciful,  the  pure  in  heart,  the  for- 
giving, they  which  hunger  and  thirst  after  right- 
eousness. Not  that  deeds  are  unimportant  or  un- 
necessary. Far  from  it.  But  tlie  vital  thing  is 
the  will.  So  Jesus  transcends  the  point  of  view  of 
the  casuist.  In  the  Christian  ideal  there  are  no 
contradictions.  In  the  Gospels  there  is  no  delicate 
balancing  of  considerations  and  consequences. 

3.  Jesus  subordinates  the  love  of  our  neighbour 


to  the  love  of  God.  It  is  often  said  that  the  Second 
Commandment,  '  Thou  shalt  love  thy  neighbour  as 
thyself,'  is  an  adequate  expression  of  the  ultimate 
principle  of  morality.  But  the  self  that  we  love 
may  be  an  unworthy  solf,  |«_'rli:iiis  even  a  sensual 
self.  If  so,  we  shall'i-.m  y  lliis  ...meption  into  the 
treatment  of  our  ni-'i,ulili.>'iir.  rhrr(>  is  much  good- 
natured  vice  in  tliu  Wdilil.  And  apart  from  this, 
fasliicjMa.lilc  phihiiithrupy  is  too  often  dominated 
liy  M\  iili-al  uf  iiicie  comfort.  That  is  why  well- 
ineuiit  cUuris  ,ii  sucial  improvement  not  seldom 
end  ill  v:iiiiiy  and  ve.\ation  of  spirit.  To  avoid 
this,  idli-tiiaiii  III  iisf  draw  its  inspiration  from  true 
relif/iijii.  It  nmst  .seek  illumination  from  God,  and 
in  llis  light  iiil'-rpret  the  duty  towards  other  men. 
In  other  words,  tlie  love  of  God,  as  He  is  seen  and 
known  in  Christ  Jesus,  creates  a  new  ideal  of  duty 
both  in  relation  to  ourselves  and  our  neighbour. 
Finally,  the  Christian  motive  is  not  the  abstract 
conception  of  duty  for  duty's  sake,  but  charity, 
the  pure  love  of  the  full,  concrete,  and  perfect 
ideal  of  humanity,  realized  for  all  time  in  the 
Person  of  Jesus  Christ. 


EAGLE.— See  Animals,  p.  65^ 

EAR.— Of  the  Greek  words  translated  '  ear '  in 
EV,  two  (uirdpio)/,  diTiov)  refer  exclusively  to  the 
bodily  organ,  and  occur  only  in  connexion  with 
the  case  of  Malchus  (Mk  14^'',  Jii  l.s'"•^^  Mt  '2fi=i, 
Lk  22=').  In  Mt  28'''  the  reiidrriim  i^  sini|.ly  a 
paraphrase.  In  Mk  7''^  (dKoai)  '  lii>  licarin-  '  would 
be  more  exact.  In  all  other  instamcs  tln.>  «(jril  uis 
occurs,  and  is  used  ;  (1)  litcralli/,  to  denote  '  Ihe  ear  ' 
(Mt  10",  Mk  7^"  8"*,  Lk'l«  12=22*),  or  (by  trans- 
ference) '  the  range  of  hearing'  (Lk  4-');  but  more 
frequently  (2)  figuratively,  to  denote  a  spiritual 
faculty  symbolized  by  the  natural  ear  (Mt  11"' 
139.  10 16(.),  16. 43_  Mk  4»:  ■^,  Lk  8^  ^  U^).  The  de- 
finitive passages  for  this  use  are  Mt  IS^--^  Mk  4=--', 
Lk  8°"'^,  where  it  forms  the  underlying  subject  of 
Christ's  first  parable,  '  the  Sower,'  a  parable  con- 
cluded in  each  account  by  the  phrase,  '  He  that 
hath  ears  (to  hear)  let  him  hear.'  Indeed,  the 
general  principle  of  speaking  in  parables  is  in  these 
passages  connected  with  '  ears  dull  of  hearing ' 
(Mt  13"-!').  Christ  is  speaking  in  reference  to 
'  mysteries '  (Mt  13'S  Mk  4",  Lk  8'"),  that  is.  Divine 
truths  not  necessarily  puzzling  in  themselves,  but 
undiscoverable  by  man  apart  from  a  revelation  of 
them  (see  Moule  on  Eph  P  3^-",  cf.  also  1  Co  2'-i''). 
When  these  have  been  revealed  to  him,  man  has 
the  power  to  recognize  their  tr\ith,  fitness,  and 
necessity  (see  Westcott  on  He  2"  7-"),  in  proportion 
as  he  is  determined  to  do  the  Divine  will  (Jn  7" 
843-47),  This  faculty  of  recognizing  the  voice  of 
truth  and  (as  it  were)  vibrating  to  its  utterance  is 
fitly  referred  to  by  Christ  as  a  spiritual  '  ear.' 

Literature.  —  Griinm  -  Thayer,  s.v.  «?,- ;  Expositor,  i.  ii. 
<f2ff.  F.  S.  Ranken. 

EARTHLY  AND  HEAVENLY  {My(i.os,  iirovp6.vi.os). 
— Tlie  Gr.  words  are  found  in  the  Gospels  only  in 
.In  3'-  [eTrovp6.vio%,  however,  occurs  as  a  variant 
reading  (Tl!)  in  Mt  IS=*,  where  some  critical  editors 


S refer  oiipavioi],  in  Christ's  conversation  with  Nico- 
enius,  and  are  best  interpreted  in  the  light  of  the 


context.    Theattemi.tn,a,lel.yM>, 

ee,,niinentators 

to  explain  tliem  by  eoUaliiii;  |.a- 

sa.e,   where  the 

.sanie  or  similar  wcjnls  oe,ui .  \  i,M 

s  no  salisfactory 

result,  tlip  ni..anin,u  .,f  the  wo'i.U  i 

1  these  ].assages 

)«-ile'   so  iliHelenl    flolll    tlieii    mean 

,u  n,.ln3'-. 

ll    Is  evelenl    fioii,    ll, au.a-; 

lion   «ilh  Nico- 

.len.us  that  the  eouin.sl    diaun  h\ 

chiisi    between 

things  earthly  and  tilings  heav  enl\ 

was  in. I   a  con- 

trast   between    things  iiatuial    aii 

1     1  lungs   su per- 
il:;- s|,iiitual,  or 

natural,  or  things  physical  an.l   lli 

things  easily  understood  and   ihii 

.;s  nnsearehable 

and  profound,  or  things  belonging 

to  the  present 

and  things  belonging  to  the  future  economy,  or 
things  moral  in  which  faith  is  active  and  things 
heavenly  where  it  is  passive  (de  Wette).  It  was  a 
contrast  between  truths  which  were  within  the 
range  of  religious  experience,  and  which  .should 
therefore  have  been  within  the  knowledge  and 
understanding  of  Nicodemus — '  a  master  of  Israel,' 
and  truths  pertaining  to  the  gospel  which  were, 
for  the  time  being,  beyond  the  reach  of  the  re- 
ligious consciousness.  The  earthly  things  were 
those  of  which  Christ  had  been  speaking, — the 
necessity  and  mystery  and  reality  of  the  new 
birth,— and  also,  as  Godet  rightly  infers  from  v.'= 
(note  use  of  plural  instead  of  singular  in  address- 
ing Nieodemus),  tlie  truths  previously  preached  by 
Clirist.  These  were  all  of  a  moral-religious  char- 
acter, .Mid  eonhl  be  known  and  verified  by  the 
spiritnally  niiiided.  The  heavenly  things  were 
tliosc  whieh  weie  to  be  revealed  to  men  through 
the  completed  redemptive  work  of  Christ.  Their 
nature  may  be  gathered  from  v. '"■'■.  The  Divinity 
and  the  atoning  death  of  Christ,  God's  eternal 
love,  and  salvation  by  faith,  are  indicated  there  as 
being  among  the  heavenly  things. 

Literature.— Besides  the  Comm.  on  St.  John,  esp.  Whitelaw 
.and  Godet,  see  Cremer's  and  Grimm-Thayer's  Lex.  s.m.  ;  E.  H. 
Hall,  Discourses,  92  ;  D.  Wright,  Poicer  of  an  Endless  Life,  168  ; 


EAETHQUAKE 


H.  Joivett,  Thirsting  for  the  Springs,  64  ;  Expos.  Times,  xii.  EASTER.— See  CALENDAR,  THE  CHRISTIAN,   p. 

[1900150.  MORISON  BRYCE.  2o5  If. 


EARTHQUAKE.— Palestine  abounds  in  traces  of 
seismic  and  volcanic  action.  From  the  region  of 
the  Dead  Sea  northward  along  the  Jordan  valley 
and  as  far  as  Damascus  the  whole  country  must 
have  been  visited  by  tremendous  earthquakes  in 
prehistoric  ages.  Mention  of  several  is  made  in 
the  OT,  sometimes  coupled  with  significant  re- 
ference to  serious  disaster  and  widespread  alarm 
caused  by  them  (1  S  14",  Am  1',  Zee  14=  etc.). 
Regarded  as  supernatural  visitations,  signs  of  the 
times,  they  produced  a  deep  impression. 

Five  times  in  the  Gospels  tlie  noun  o-uo-^et  (fr.  iriiu,  'to  shake ') 
is  used  of  an  earthquake  (Mt  24'  27"  2S=,  Mk  13S,  Lk  21"),  and 
once  (lit  27^0  the  idea  is  expressed  by  the  phrase  ^  y^,  tin.irffr 
(EV  *the  earth  did  quake').  In  LXX  truirfAoi  (or  tronnifff^a;)  is 
eniplo.ved  to  render  l^VT  of  the  original.  Though  speeiflcally 
applied  to  an  earthquake,  ffttrui;  properly  has  a  wider  connota- 
tion :  thus  in  Ml  82^  it  is  used  of  a  tempest  (trUffWH  u.iyai  'iy;^i^■e 

!>  T^  9«t).«o-a-<).  Hence  Alford  thinks  that  in  Mt  282  jt  denotes 
not  an  earthquake,  but  the  'shock'  produced  by  the  rolling 
away  of  the  stone  from  the  sepulchre- 

1.  Recorded  earthjuakes.—Oi  these  there  are 
two,  namely,  the  earthquakes  at  the  Crucifixion 
and  the  Resurrection  (Mt  27='-"  28-).  The  his- 
toricity of  these  earthquakes  is  disijuted.  St. 
Matthew  alone  mentions  tliem  ;  St.  Mark  (IS'^-^) 
and  St.  Luke  (23*"-),  in  agreement  with  St.  Matthew 
in  regard  to  the  darkness  and  the  rending  of  the  veil, 
apparently  know  nothing  of  an  earthquake  at  the 
Crucifixion  [the  Fourth  Gospel  has  no  allusion  to 
any  of  the  portents],  and  they  are  equally  silent 
in  the  case  of  the  Resurrection.  Plumnier  ('St. 
Luke'  in  Intemat.  Crit.  Com.)  quotes  a  state- 
ment in  the  Geinara  that  some  forty  years  before 
the  destruction  of  Jerusalem  the  heavy  gates  of 
the  temple  were  mysteriously  flung  open  about 
midnight  at  tlie  Passover  ;  but  it  would  seem  that 
sufficient  evidence  of  earthquake  shocks  being  felt 
in  or  near  Jerusalem  at  the  date  in  question  is 
wanting.  Probably  a  legendary  element  must  be 
recognized  in  the  passages  under  consideration. 
At  the  same  time  it  should  be  borne  in  mind  that 
the  circumstance  narrated  is  'not  in  itself  in- 
credible '  (Gary,  Synop.  Gospels).  Earthquakes  are 
frequently  accompanied  by  a  '  strange,  bewildering 
darkness'  (Plumptre,  Bibl.  Studies),  and  if  shocks 
did  then  take  place  they  would  naturally  be 
interpreted  of  the  'sympathy  of  nature.'  (Cf. 
Corn,  a  Lap.  :  '  The  earth,  which  trembled  with 
horror  at  the  death  of  Christ,  as  it  were  leaped 
with  joy  at  the  Resurrection '). 

2.  Predicted  earthquakes.— ^It  24',  Mk  IS^,  Lk 
21".  The  question  arises,  Do  the  Synoptists  here 
preserve  ipsissima  verba  of  our  Lord?  It  must  be 
remembered  that  '  a  generation  and  a  half  .  .  . 
had  passed  between  the  events  and  the  telling  of 
the  tale'  (F.  C.  Burkitt) ;  hence  a  po.ssibility  that 
the  esehatological  discourses  as  reported  are 
coloured  Ijy  events  which  had  already  taken  place 
when  the  narratives  were  compiled.  On  the 
assumption  that  the  predictions  were  uttered  by 
Jesus,  account  should  be  taken  of  the  fact  th.at 
they  are  clothed  in  the  language  of  current 
Messianic  expectation.  The  setting  up  of  the 
Kingdom  was  at  hand  ;  it  would  be  consequent  on 
that  national  disaster  which,  looming  in  the  near 
future,  would  be  presaged  by  phenomena  in  which 
men  saw  the  dread  precursors  of  catastrophe.  And 
this  actually  came  about :  between  the  Crucifixion 
and  the  destruction  of  Jerusalem  the  earthquake 
was  frequent ;  the  earth  was  a  prey  to  the  most 
violent  convulsions  (Godet,  St.  Mat.  p.  149;  Renan, 
L' Antichrist,  ch.  xiv.). 

LrrKRATURE. — Gilbert,  Student's  Life  of  Jesus  ;  Schiirer, 
EJP,  see  Index;  Gould,  'St.  Mark'  in  Internat.  Crit.  Com. ; 
Gary,  '  The  Synoptic  Gospels '  in  Intemat.  Handbooks  to  NT. 

H.  L.  Jackson. 


EATING  AND  DRINKING.-Eating  and  drink- 
ing are  occasionally  referred  to  in  the  Gospels  as 
acts  expressive  of  men's  ordinary  life.  The  simple 
natural  life  of  Jesus  was  thus  contrasted  with  the 
austere  ways  of  the  Baptist  (Mt  IV^,  Lk  7**).  The 
servant  waits  till  the  master  has  eaten  and  drunken, 
and  afterwards  he  eats  and  drinks  (Lk  17') ;  in  the 
days  of  Noah  men  went  on  eating  and  drinking, 
heedless  of  the  coming  flood  (Lk  17"-  ^) ;  and  the 
rich  fool  still  says  to  his  soul,  '  Take  thine  ease, 
eat,  drink,  be  merry '  (Lk  12'^).  The  careless  self- 
indulgence  of  the  servant  who,  in  his  loid's  absence, 
began  to  eat  and  drink  with  the  drunken  (Mt  24-^, 
Lk  12^=)  is  condemned  on  the  one  hand  ;  and  so,  on 
the  other  hand,  is  that  over  anxiety  which  keeps 
saying,  'What  shall  we  eat?  or  What  shall  we 
drmk  ?  or  Wherewithal  shall  we  be  clothed  ? '  (Mt 
e^-**,  Lk  12---3J).  The  scribes  and  Pharisees  com- 
plained that  Jesus  ate  and  drank  with  publicans 
and  sinners  (Lk  5^),  which  was  His  glory  ;  and  it 
will  be  the  glory  of  those  who  continue  mth  Him 
in  His  temptations  that  they  will  eat  and  drink  at 
His  table  in  His  Kingdom  (Lk  222").  ygg  BREAD, 
Cup,  Fasting,  Food,  Lord's  Supper,  Meals, 
Wine. 

EBER  (AV  Heber). — The  eponymous  ancestor  of 
the  Hebrew  s ;  named  in  our  Lord's  genealogy  as 
given  in  Lk.  (3^). 

EBIONISM.— It  would  be  going  beyond  the  scope 
of  this  Dictionary  to  enter  with  any  fulness  into  a 
discussion  of  the  obscure  and  elusive  subject  of 
Ebionism  as  it  meets  us  in  its  varying  forms  in 
the  history  of  the  early  Church.  What  immedi- 
ately concerns  us  is  its  bearing  upon  certain  ques- 
tions connected  with  the  origin  of  the  Gospels  and 
the  history  and  person  of  Jesus  Christ  Himself. 
But  as  these  questions  cannot  properly  be  handled 
till  we  have  determined  what  we  are  to  under- 
stand by  Ebionism,  a  brief  treatment  of  the  general 
subject  appears  to  be  necessary. 

i.  Who  and  what  were  the  Ebionites  ?— The 
name  Ebionites  ('E^ion/aioO,  it  is  generally  agreed, 
is  derived  from  the  Hebrew  'ebuonim  D'ji'aK  '  the 
poor.'  *  It  seems  most  probable  that  originally  this 
name,  like  Nazarenes  (Ac  24=),  was  applied  to  all 
Christians ;  but  whether  it  was  first  adopted  by 
the  followers  of  Christ  themselves  or  given  them 
by  others  it  is  impossible  to  say.  The  compara- 
tive povertj'  of  the  great  mass  of  Christians  in  the 
early  days  of  the  Church,  especially  in  Jerusalem, 
where  the  name  doubtless  arose,  might  lead  to  its 
being  used  by  outsiders  as  a  term  of  contempt. 
On  the  other  hand,  the  Christians  of  Jerusalem 
may  themselves  have  adopted  it  because  of  the 
spiritual  associations  with  which  '  the  poor'  (o'yvDN, 
D"iv,  D-W)  are  referred  to  in  the  OT  {e.f/.  Ps  34"  69^ 
72",  Is  il"  1432  29'9;  cf.  S.  R.  Driver,  art.  'Poor' 
in  Hastings'  DB ;  G.  A.  Smith,  Isaiah,  vol.  i.  ch. 
xxix.  'God's  Poor'),  and  the  bles.sings  pronounced 
upon  them  by  Jesus  Himself  (Lk  6»>,  Mt  5^).  If  it 
was  first  given  as  a  name  of  reproach,  it  could 
very  easily  and  naturally  be  accepted  as  a  name  of 
honour.t 

*  Certain  of  the  Fathers  attempt  to  derive  the  name  from  a 
supposed  founder  called  Ebion,  who  is  said  to  have  spread  his 
doctrines  among  the  Christians  who  fled  to  Pella  after  the  fall 
of  Jerusalem  (Tertullian,  de  prcescr.  H(eret.  33 ;  Epiphanius, 
Hrer.  XXX.  1,  2).  But  though  Hilgenfeld  has  laboured  to  give 
historical  reality  to  the  fi.'ure  of  Ebimi  ( Kflzeniesch.  pp.  422-424), 
modern  scholti-  !,  .  ■  pr  i  r'  V  .i_r-  I  t]iat  he  has  onlv  a 
mvthical  exi<'   ■         M   •  "    '      '    '■    "hi,  i.  299 ;  Uhlhom 


ntipathy  to  the 


EBIONISiSr 


EBIONISM 


505 


After  the  name  'Christian'  (cf.  Ac  IV)  had 
become  the  general  designation  for  the  disciples  of 
Christ,  '  Ebionites '  appears  to  have  been  reserved 
as  a  distinctive  title  for  Jewish  as  distinguished 
from  Gentile  Christians  ('E/Siuvaloi  x/jij/iarlfoKo-ii'  oi 
dirA  'lovdaiav  rbv  'Iri<roOv  lis  XpiUTby  vapaSe^dfi-evoi, 
Origen,  c.  Cels.  ii.  1),  but  specifically  for  those 
Jewish  Christians  who,  in  some  degree  more  or 
less  pronounced,  sought  to  maintain  as  essential 
to  Christianity  the  now  obsolete  forms  of  the  OT 
religion  (the  Fathers  from  the  2nd  to  the  4th  cent. 
passim).  Thus  Ebionism  becomes  a  synonym  for 
Jewish  Christianity  in  its  antithesis  to  the  uni- 
versalism  of  the  Catholic  Church  ;  and  it  is  in  this 
broad  and  yet  pretty  definite  sense  that  the  word 
is  properly  to  be  employed  (Harnack,  I.e.  i.  289 ; 
Uhlhorn,  I.e.  ibid,).  It  is  true  that  in  the  4th  cent, 
we  find  Jerome  using  the  two  names  Nazarenes 
and  Ebionites  in  speaking  of  the  Jewish  Christians, 
with  whom  he  had  become  well  acquainted  in 
Palestine  {Ep.  ad  August,  cxxii.  13),  and  this  has 
led  some  to  suppose  that  he  is  making  a  distinc- 
tion between  two  entirely  different  sects  {so  especi- 
ally Zahn,  Kanonsgcsch.  ii.  648  IX.) ;  but  it  is  now 
generally  held  that  in  this  case  he  was  really 
using  two  names  for  the  same  thing,  and  that 
'  Nazarenes '  and  '  Ebionites '  are  both  general 
designations  for  Jewish  Cliristians  as  such  (Har- 
nack, I.e.  p.  301 ;  cf.  Uhlhorn's  art.  'Ebionites'  in 
Schaff-Herzog,  En-cycl.  of  Bel.  Knowledge,  with 
his  later  art.  '  Ebioniten '  in  PRE^). 

While,  however,  it  seems  impossible  to  distin- 
guish between  Nazarenes  and  Ebionites,  and  im- 
proper in  this  connexion  to  think  of  a  separation 
into  clear-cut  sects,  there  were  undoubtedly  differ- 
ences of  tendency  within  the  general  sphere  of 
Ebionism.  From  the  first  a  stricter  and  a  more 
liberal  party  is  to  be  discerned  (the  oi  Sittoi  'E^mvolol 
of  Origen,  c.  Cels.  v.  Gl),  corresponding  in  some 
measure  to  the  cleavage  which  emerged  in  the 
Council  of  Jerusalem  (Ac  15'"-")— a  Pliarisaic  party 
which  held  the  Law  to  be  essential  even  for  Gentile 
Christians,  and  a  party  of  broader  mind,  wliich, 
while  clinging  to  the  Law  for  themselves,  did  not 
seek  to  impose  it  upon  their  Gentile  brethren 
(Justin,  Dial.  c.  TrypL  47).  Finally,  with  the  rise 
of  the  Gnostic  heresy,  a  Gnostic  or  syncretistic 
type  of  Jewish  Christianity  makes  its  appearance, 
to  which  the  name  of  Ebionism  is  still  applied 
(Epiphanius,  Heer.  xxx.  1).  This  tinostic  Ebionism 
itself  assumes  various  forms.  It  already  meets  us 
within  the  NT  in  the  false  doctrine  wliich  St.  Paul 
opposes  in  Colossians,  and  in  the  teaching  of 
Cerinthus  to  which  St.  John  replies  in  his  First 
Epistle.  At  a  later  period  it  is  represented  in  the 
doctrines  of  the  Elkesaites,  who  combined  their 
Ebionism  with  influences  drawn  from  the  Oriental 
heathen  world  (Epiphanius,  Hco:  xix.  2,  xxx.  1  ; 
Hippolytus,  Philos.  ix.  13). 

ii.  The  Ebionite  Gcspels.  —  As  against  the 
Tiibingen  school,  wliich  held  that  primitive  Chris- 
tianity was  itself  Ebionism,  and  which  took,  in 
consequence,  a  higlily  exaggerated  view  of  the 
influence  of  Ebionitic  thought  upon  the  history 
and  the  literature  of  the  early  Church,  it  is  now  ad- 
mitted by  nearly  all  modern  scholars  that  there 
are  no  writings  within  the  Canon  of  the  NT  which 
come  to  us  directly  from  this  circle.  On  tlie  other 
hand,  two  of  the  Apocryphal  Gospels,  the  Gospel 
according  to  the  Hebrews  and  the  Gospel  of  the 
Twelve  Apostles  (otherwise  known  as  the  Gospel 
of  the  Ebionites),  are  immediate  products  of  the 
Judieo-Christian  spirit — the  former  representing 
Ebionism  in  its  earlier  and  simpler  type,  and  the 

and  Eusebius  {HE  iii.  27)  to  treat  the  name  as  derived  from  the 
'poverty'  of  the  Ebionites  in  intelligence  and  knowledge  of 
Scripture,  and  especially  from  the  'beggarly'  quality  of  their 


latter  that  syncretistic  form  of  Jewish  Christi- 
anity which  afterwards  sprang  up  tlirougli  contact 
with  Gnosticism  (see  Gospels  [Apocryphal]; 
and  artt.  '  Gospel  according  to  the  Hebrews '  and 
'  Apocryphal  Gospels '  in  Hastings'  DB,  Extra 
Vol. ).  The  extant  fragments  of  the  Gospel  of  the 
Twelve  Apostles  show  that  its  value  is  quite  secon- 
dary, and  that  the  author  has  simply  compiled  it 
from  the  Canonical,  and  especially  from  the  Syn- 
optic Gospels,  adapting  it  at  the  same  time  to  the 
views  and  practices  of  Gnostic  Ebionism.  Much 
more  interest  and  importance  attach  to  the 
Gospel  according  to  the  Hebrews.  We  have  refer- 
ences to  it,  for  the  most  part  respectful  and  sym- 
pathetic, in  the  writings  of  Clement,  Origen, 
Eusebius,  and,  above  all,  Jerome ;  while  several 
valuable  fragments  of  it  have  been  pre.served  for 
us  in  the  pages  of  Epiphanius.  Eusebius  {HE  iii. 
25,  27)  and  Jerome  (Com.  on  Mt  12")  Ixith  testify 
that  this  was  the  Gospel  used  by  the  Ebionites, 
and  it  is  the  latter  who  gives  it  its  name  of 
the  '  Gospel  according  to  the  Hebrews'  {secundum 
Hebrceos).  The  numerous  references  in  the  Fathers 
to  tliis  work,  and  the  extant  fragments  them- 
selves, if  they  do  not  justify  Harnack's  state- 
ment that  Jewish-Christian  (i.e.  Ebionite)  sources 
lie  at  the  basis  of  our  Synoptic  Gospels  (Hist,  of 
Dogma,  i.  295),  lend  some  we.ght  to  the  idea  that 
the  distinctive  features  of  tlie  document,  so  far 
from  being  altogether  secondary,  ought  to  be  re- 
garded as  indications  of  an  early  Aramaic  tradi- 
tion, which  still  held  its  own  among  the  '  Hebrews ' 
after  the  growing  universalism  of  the  Church  had 
left  it  behind  (see  Prof.  Allan  Menzies  in  Hastings' 
DB,  Extra  Vol.  343"). 

iii.  Ebionism  and  the  Canonical  Gospels.— 
Apart  from  the  existence  of  special  Ebionite  Gos- 
pels, the  idea  has  been  common,  both  in  ancient 
and  modem  times,  that  certain  of  the  Canonical 
Gospels  owe  something  of  their  substance  or 
their  form  to  the  positive  or  negative  influence 
of  Ebionite  sources  or  Ebionite  surroundings. 
(1)  The  Gospel  of  St.  Matthew.— Jerome,  who  testi- 
fies, as  we  have  seen,  to  the  fact  that  the  Jewish 
Christians  of  Palestine  had  a  Gospel  of  tlieir  own 
(secundum  Hebrceos),  also  tells  us  that  this  Gospel 
was  regarded  by  many  as  Matthwi  authsnticum, 
i.e.  the  original  of  Matthew  (Com.  on  Mt  12"); 
and  on  one  occasion  refers  to  a  copy  of  it  which 
he  himself  had  seen  and  translated  as  though  he 
believed  it  to  be  the  original  Hebrew  (ipsum- 
Hebraieum)  of  St.  Matthew's  Gospel  (de  Viris 
Hlust.  ii.  3).  Irenceus,  two  centuries  earlier,  says 
that  the  Ebionites  use  only  the  Gospel  of  Matthew 
(I.  xxvi.  2) ;  a  statement  which  points,  at  all  events, 
to  this,  that  even  in  his  time  the  Jewish  Christians 
of  Syria  attached  themselves  to  a  particular  Gos- 
pel, and  that  between  that  Gospel  and  St.  Matthew 
the  Apostle  a  close  connexion  was  believed  to  exist. 
Irena>us  does  not  seem  to  have  been  aware  of  the 
existence  of  the  Gospel  according  to  the  Hebrews, 
and  apparently  confounded  that  work  ^vith  the 
Canonical  Matthew.  But  when  his  statement  is 
taken  together  with  those  of  Jerome,  very  interest- 
ing questions  are  raised  as  to  the  origin  and  con- 
nexions of  the  Synoptical  Gospels,  and  of  the  First 
Gospel  in  particular,  with  the  result  that  in  modern 
theories  upon  this  subject  the  Gospel  according  to 
the  Hebrexos  has  played  an  important  rOle.  It 
would  be  out  of  place  to  enter  here  upon  any  dis- 
cussion of  the  questions  thus  raised  (see  Gospels). 
But  it  may  be  .said  that  while  the  whole  trend  of 
recent  scholarship  is  unfavourable  to  the  views  of 
those  who  would  make  the  Gospel  according  to  the 
Hebrews  either  the  '  Ur-Mattha-us '  itself  or  an 
expanded  edition  of  it,  some  grounds  can  be  alleged 
for  thinking  that  it  represents  an  early  Aramaic 
tradition  of  the  Gospel  story  which  was  in  exist- 


EBIOXISM 


EBIOXISM 


ence  when  the  author  of  Canonical  Matthew  wrote 
his  book,  and  upon  whicli  to  some  extent  he  may 
have  drawn, — a  tradition  wliich  would  naturally  be 
more  Jewish  and  national  in  its  outlook  than  that 
represented  by  the  Greek  written  sources  on  which 
he  placed  liis  main  dependence  (see  Hastings'  DB, 
Extra  Vol.  342  f.). 

(2)  The  Gospel  of  St.  Luke. — On  the  giound  that 
much  of  the  teaching  which  is  peculiar  to  St.  Luke 
bears  specially  upon  wealth  and  poverty,  it  has 
frequently  been  alleged  that  the  Evangelist  made 
use  of  a  distinctly  Ebionitic  source,  or  was  himself 
in  sympathy  with  Ebionism.  It  is  true  that  the 
Ebionites,  as  we  meet  them  later  in  Church  history, 
resemble  the  Essenes  in  taking  an  ascetic  view  of 
life,  and  regarding  voluntary  poverty  as  a  thing  of 
merit  and  a  means  of  preparing  for  the  Messianic 
kingdom.  But  it  is  altogether  a  misrepresentation 
of  the  facts  to  say  that  this  is  the  type  of  the  ideal 
Christian  life  as  it  meets  us  in  Luke,  or  that  his 
references  to  riches  and  poverty  '  rest  on  the  idea 
that  wealth  is  pernicious  in  itself  and  poverty  salu- 
tary in  itself  (Weiss,  Introd.  ii.  309).  The  form 
in  which  the  first  Beatitude  of  Matthew  (5^)  is 
given  in  Luke,  '  Blessed  are  ye  poor :  for  yours 
is  the  kingdom  of  God'  (6™),  together  with  the 
closely  following  Woe  pronounced  upon  the  rich 
(v."),  has  especially  been  fastened  on  as  a  clear 
proof  that  these  sayings  proceed  from  an  Ebionitic 
circle  '  ascetic  in  spirit  and  believing  poverty  to  be 
in  itself  a  passport  to  the  kingdom,  and  riches  the 
way  to  perdition.'  Similarly  in  the  parable  of 
Dives  and  Lazarus  (16'^-^'),  it  is  supposed  that 
Dives  goes  to  the  place  of  torment  because  he  is 
rich,  while  the  beggar  is  carried  into  Abraham's 
bosom  simply  because  he  is  a  beggar.  Such  inter- 
pretations, however,  spring  from  a  very  superficial 
■     (cf.   Bruce,  Expos.  Gr.  Test,  on    Lk  6™, 


Parabolic  Teaching  of  Christ,  p.  376  ff.).  And, 
whUe  it  is  true  that  St.  Luke  dwells,  more  than 
the  other  Evangelists,  on  the  consolations  of  the 
poor  and  the  perils  of  rich  men  (.see,  besides  the 
passages  already  quoted,  4'8  7=^  i2i6ff.  i6"r-  ]9--ff. 
21'^-).  the  fact  is  sufficiently  accounted  for,  on  the 
one  hand,  by  that  humane  and  philanthropic  spirit 
which  is  so  characteristic  of  the  Third  Evangelist 
and  so  natural  in  one  who  is  called  '  the  beloved 
physician ';  and,  on  the  other,  as  Zahn  has  suggested 
{Einleitiirtij,  ii.  379),  by  his  sense  of  the  appropriate- 
ne.ss  for  one  in  the  position  of  Theophilus,  to  whom 
his  (iospel  is  immediately  addressed,  of  our  Lord's 
frtM|uont  warnings  of  the  spiritual  dangers  of 
wuahli  ami  the  worldliness  to  which  wealth  is  so 
pnuK'  tci  lead.  It  is  to  be  noted,  however,  that 
uur  Lord's  .strongest  utterancn  aLrain-^t  wpalth  is 
fuund  in  Matthew  (19-^  and  .M:nk  .  In-  :,  ,-..  well  as 
Luke  (IS'^j:  and  that  a  ooiiipai  i-.u  m  ii,,.  Third 
Synoptic  with  the  other  two  ii\.aU  <.ria>i()nal 
touches,  on  the  one  side  or  the  other  mote,  c.rf., 
the  presence  of  dypoii  in  Mt  19^,  Mk  10-"-',  and  its 
absence  from  Lk  18^),  which  an  ingenious  theorist 
might  very  well  use  to  support  the  thesis  that 
not  so  Ebionitic  as  Matthew  and  Mark 


Luke 


(see  Plummer,  'St.  Lnke' in  Internat.  Crit.  Com. 
p.  XXV  f.). 

(3)  It  is  curious  to  notice  how,  from  the  2nd 
cent,  to  the  19th,  the  Fourth  Gospel  has  been 
associated  in  two  quite  diflerent  ways  with  Ebion- 
ism, and  specifically  with  Cerinthus,  an  Ebionite 
of  the  Gnosticizing  type  who  taught  in  Ephesus 
towards  the  close  of  the  Apostolic  age.  On  the 
one  hand,  we  have  the  statements  of  Irenaeus  and 
others  that  the  Apostle  John  wrote  his  Gospel  to 
combat  the  errors  of  Cerinthus  (Iren.  III.  xi.  1) 
and  the  Ebionites  (Epiphanius,  Hmr.  Ii.  12,  Ixix. 
23) ;  statements  wliich  should  be  taken  in  con- 
nexion witli  the  well-known  story,  attributed  to 
Polycarp,  of  the  dramatic  encounter  between  St. 


John  and  Cerinthus  in  the  baths  of  Ephesus  (Iren. 
III.  iii.  4  ;  Epiphan.  I.e.  xxx.  24).*  Even  down  to 
recent  times  these  statements  have  been  widely 
accepted  as  furnishing  an  adequate  account  of  the 
origin  of  the  Fourth  Gospel.  Thus  Ebrard  says : 
'  We  are  thus  led  to  the  conclusion  that  the  Cer- 
inthian  gnosis  was  the  principal  cause  which  in- 
dticed  John  to  believe  that  the  time  had  come  for 
him  to  make  known  his  peculiar  gift,  wliich  he 
had  hitherto  kept  concealed.  ...  He  emphasizes 
faith  in  Jesus  the  Son  of  God  (xx.  31)  over  against 
a  bare  vno^is '  (Schaff-Herzog,  Encyc.  of  Bel.  Knmv- 
ledqc,  ii.  1189). 

At  the  opposite  extreme  from  the  belief  of  Ire- 
n:eus  was  the  view  of  a  sect  referred  to  by  Epi- 
phanius (I.e.  Ii.  3),  and  named  by  him  the  Alogi 
(because  of  their  refusal  to  accept  St.  John's  teacii- 
ing  regarding  the  Logos),  who  ascribed  the  Johan- 
nine  WTitings  to  Cerinthus  himself,  and  on  that 
ground  discarded  them  altogether.  A  parallel  of 
a  sort  to  this  view  was  furnished  by  the  Tiibingen 
writers  when  they  assigned  the  Gospel  to  some 
Gnosticizing  dreamer  of  the  2nd  century. 

The  residuum  of  truth  that  lies  between  these 
two  contrary  %-iews  may  perhaps  be  found  in  the 
fact  that  the  author  was  a  contemporary  of  Cer- 
inthus, and  that  he  wrote  his  Gospel  in  full  view 
of  prevailing  Cerinthian  error.  It  is  a  mistake, 
however,  to  suppose  that  the  work  was  intended 
as  a  direct  polemic  against  Cerinthus  and  his 
followers. 

'It  is  decisive,*  says  Meyer,  'acrainst  the  assumption  of  any 
such  polemical  purpose  that,  in  general,  John  nowhere  in  his 
Gospel  allows  any  direct  reference  to  the  perverted  tendencies 
of  his  day  to  appear ;  while  to  search  for  indirect  and  hidden 
allusions  of  the  kind,  as  if  they  were  intentional,  would  be  as 
arbitrary  as  it  would  be  repugnant  to  the  decided  character  of 
the  Apostolic  standpoint  which  be  took  up  when  in  conscious 
opposition  to  heresies.  .  .  .  We  see  from  his  [First]  Epistle  how 
John  would  have  carried  on  a  controversy,  had  he  wished  to  do 
so  in  his  Gospel '  (,John,  i.  44  f.  ;  cf .  Westcott,  John,  p.  xU). 

The  author  doubtless  has  in  view  the  heresies  of 
Gnostic  Ebionism,  but  in  the  Gospel  he  refutes 
them  only  by  the  full  and  positive  exhibition  of 
what  he  conceives  to  be  the  truth  about  Jesus 
Christ.  He  tells  us  himself  that  his  purpose  in 
writing  is  that  those  who  read  '  may  believe  that 
Jesus  is  the  Christ,  the  Son  of  God'  (20").  What 
he  means  by  '  the  Christ,  the  Son  of  God,'  he  lets 
us  see  in  the  prologue  ;  and  his  method  in  the  rest 
of  the  work  is  to  show  by  selected  examples  how 
this  conception  of  the  truth  about  Jesus  Christ 
lias  been  historically  realized. 

iv.  Ebionism  axd  the  Person  of  Chri-st.— 
The  distinctive  feature  of  Judaic  Christianity, 
when  we  first  meet  it,  lies  in  its  continued  adher- 
ence to  the  Law ;  but  with  the  growth  of  more 
definite  conceptions  regarding  the  Person  of  Christ, 
the  question  of  the  keeping  of  the  Law  recedes 
into  the  background,  and  Christology  becomes  the 
matter  of  supreme  imjiortance  to  the  Church. 
From  the  beginning  it  was  the  tendency  of  Jewish 
Christianity  to  shrink  from  the  idea  of  the  Incar- 
nation, and  to  be  content  to  regard  Jesus  as  the 
last  and  greatest  of  the  propliets.  And  when  the 
Church  defined  its  Christological  position,  the 
Jewish  section  was  found  to  be  lac-king  at  this 
particular  and  cnicial  point,  and  so  the  term 
'Ebionism'  came  to  be  almost  synonymous  ^vith 
the  denial  of  Christ's  Divinity  and  Virgin-birth. 
Irenjeus,  after  refeiTin"  to  tlie  way  in  wliich  the 
Ebionites  clung  to  the  Law  of  Moses  and  rejected 
Paul  as  an  apostate,  adds  th.at,  besides  tliis,  they 
te.'icli  consimiliter  ut  Cerinthus  et  Carpocrates  (cf. 
Hippolytus,  Philos.  vii.  34,  t4  5^  irepl  XpioTji-  ojuoius 
7-u  KijpivBij)  Kal  KapTroKpAreL  livBfiowrLv),  denying  the 
birth  from  the  Virgin  and  holding  Christ  as  a  mere 
man.     Origen,  more  than   half  a  century  later. 


ECCE  HOMO 


EDUCATIOX 


distinguishes  between  two  classes  of  Ebionites  (oi 
5iTToi  'E/iiwi-aioi),  one  of  whieli  confesses,  like  the 
Church  generally,  that  Jesus  was  born  of  a  virgin, 
while  the  other  affirms  that  He  was  born  like  the 
rest  of  men  («.  Cc/s.  v.  lil).  According  to  Jerome, 
it  appears  that  by  the  4th  cent,  the  Ebionites  of 
.Palestine  had  made  progress  in  their  recognition 
of  the  Divinity  of  Christ  and  the  Virgin-birth,  for 
he  says  of  them,  <//(/  ,,.,/„„/  ,„  i 'h'ristum  Jilium 
dei  natum  (h  l'ir,/i,i,  M'h-ki  .  .  .  m  quern  ct  nos 
credimus  {Ejj.  ail  Ainjial.  i-wii.  i:;i. 

But  while  it  may  W-  Uuu  of  tlie  \  ulgar  or  non- 
Gnostic  Ebionites,  over  whom,  as  Harnack  says, 
'the  Church  stalked  with  iron  feet'  (Hist,  of 
Dogmtc,  i.  301),  that  their  distinction  from  the 
Church  tended  more  and  more  to  disappear,  the 
case  was  ditlerent  with  the  Gnostic  or  syncretistic 
variety,  of  whom  Cerinthus  may  be  taken  as  an 
early  type.  To  Cerinthus,  according  to  Irenseus 
(I.  xxvi.  1  ;  cf.  Hi]ipolytus,  Fhilos.  vii.  33),  Jesus 
was  nothing  mure  than  a  naturally-begotten  man 
— the  son  of  Joseph  and  ilary— upon  whom  at  His 
baptism  the  Christ  came  down  from  the  absolute 
power  (avBevTla.)  of  God,  thus  making  him  the  re- 
vealer  of  the  Father  and  the  miracle  -  working 
Messiah  ;  but  from  whom  this  Christ -Spirit  de- 
parted before  the  Passion,  so  that  it  was  only 
the  man  Jesus  who  endured  the  cross,  while  the 
spiritual  Christ  remained  untouched  by  suft'er- 
ing. 

In  the  case  of  the  Elkesaites  of  a  later  period, 
we  find  Jewish  monotheism  combining  itself  not 
only  with  Greek  sjjeculation,  but  with  strange 
heathen  elements  taken  over  hom  the  Asiatic 
religions.  This  syncretism  w.is  rharacteristic  of 
the  age,  and  in  that  fait   (Im_-  -li'imtli  of  Gnostic 

Ebionism  lay.     It  was  niurh  ui ijuressive  than 

Ebionisni  of  the  sim]jlcr  t ypu,  au.i  had  a  far  more 
widely  extended  influence.  Ul  its  fantastic  and 
fugitive  forms  this  is  not  the  place  to  speak.  But 
its  Christology  appears  in  general  to  have  been 
akin  to  that  of  Cerinthus  ;  in  other  words  it  was 
essentially  Docetic,  and  involved  a  denial  of  any 
real  and  abiding  union  of  the  Divine  and  human 
in  the  Person  of  our  Lord. 

Literature. — On  the  general  subject  tlie  followinfj  should  be 
read:  Neander,  Church  Histori/,  vol.  ii.  pp.  8-41  (Clark's  ed.); 
Harnack,  Hist,  of  Doijma,  i.  287-317  ;  PliJi'-K  artt.  '  Ebioniten,' 
^Elkesa.iten' ;  Jeudsh  Enci/c,  art.  'Ebionites.'  For  particular 
points  see  the  various  references  given  in  the  article. 

J.  C.  Lambert. 
ECCE  HOMO.—'  Behold,  the  man  ! '  (Moil  6  dydpuTos 
or  i"5e  6  Hfepoi-iroi)  (Jn  19*)  was  the  utterance  of 
Pilate  when  our  Lord  came  forth  wearing  the 
crown  of  thorns  and  the  purple  robe.  We  may 
believe  that  the  words  were  spoken  to  excite  the 
pity  of  the  Jews.  Pilate  had  given  over  our  Lord 
to  be  scourged,  and  had  allowed  his  soldiers  to  robe 
and  crown  Him  in  mockery,  but  all  the  time  he 
was  anxious  to  save  Him  from  death  ;  and  there 
Avas  undoubtedly  an  appeal  to  the  compassion  of 
the  bystanders  in  the  words,  'Behold  the  man.' 
Probably  it  was  to  mock  the  Jews  that  the  .soldiers 
had  robed  and  crowned  Him  who  was  said  to  have 
claimed  to  be  their  king ;  and  Pilate  himself,  we 
can  see,  was  not  unwilling  to  deal  somewhat  scorn- 
fully with  them.  But  he  does  not  seem  to  have 
looked  scornfully,  he  rather  looked  pitifully,  on 
our  Lord  Himself.  And  when  he  said,  '  Behold, 
the  man  ! '  he  was,  as  it  were,  pointing  out  that 
Jesus  had  suttered  enough.  But  although  Pilate's 
words  were  those  of  a  weak  but  not  wholly  unfeel- 
ing man  who  wanted  to  move  to  pity  those  whom 
he  was  afraid  to  send  angry  and  revengeful  fi'om 
his  judgment-seat,  he  was  really,  although  ail- 
unconsciously,  paying  an  act  of  homage  to  our 
Lord.  '  Ecce  Homo.'  He  was  bidding  men  look  to 
the  ijerfect  man,  the  incarnate  Son  of  God,  men's 


perfect    example,    their    Divine    yet    most    truly 
human  Redeemer. 

The  scene  of  our  Lord's  appearing  in  the  crown 
of  thorns  and  the  purple  robe  is  naturally  one  to 
appeal  to  artists ;  and  many  great  pictures,  notably 
one  of  the  greatest  and  most  striking  of  modern 
times  (by  Munkacsy),  have  borne  the  title  '  Ecce 

Eccc  IIuiHo  is  also  the  title  of  a  very  notable 
book  by  the  late  Sir  John  Seeley.  'the  book 
cannot  be  discussed  here.  It  deals  with  the  man- 
hood of  our  Lord  In  an  original  and  striking  way, 
and  does  not  deny,  although  it  does  not  discuss, 
His  Divinity. 

LiTER.*Ti  RE.— Conini.  on  passage  cited ;  Seeley,  Ecce  Homo ; 
Knox  Little,  Ferfecl  Li/e  (1898),  p.  140 ;  R.  J.  Campbell,  City 
Temple  Sermons  (1903),  60 ;  Rosadi,  Trial  of  Jesjts :  Farrar, 
Christ  in  Art,  p.  384 £f. ;  art.  '  Christusbilder '  in  PHEi. 

Geo.  C.  Watt. 

EDUCATION.— Among  the  Apocryphal  Gospels' 
fables  of  what  befell  during  the  Silent  Years,  there 
are  some  that  are  concerned  with  the  school-days 
of  Jesus— mostly  silly  and  sometimes  blasphemous 
stories  of  the  sort  which  St.  I'aui  liraiids  as  •  profane 
and  old-wili>h  myths  ( 1  Ti  4' ).  I'nr  instance,  it  is 
told  in.lnih.  Knni,/.  li,f.  xIIn.  that  the  wondrous 
Child  one  d.ay  had  a  disimtu  witli  lli>  tcaclier  aljout 
the  Hebrew  alphabet ;  and  when  the  latter  would 
have  chastised  Him,  his  impious  arm  was  withered, 
and  he  died.  Such  stories  are,  of  course,  abso- 
lutely unhistorical  ;  but  it  is  indubitable  that  dur- 
ing  His  early  years  at  Nazareth  Jesus  had  to  do 
with  school  and  teacher.  It  is  mentioned  incident- 
ally by  St.  Luke  that  He  could  read  (4"),  and  by 
St.  John  that  He  could  write  (8*) ;  and  it  is  im- 
possible that  He  should  have  grown  up  without  an 
education.  It  is  not  the  least  merit  of  the  Jewish 
people  that  they  recognized  the  value  of  education, 
and  brought  it  within  the  reach  of  the  poorest. 
'  Our  ground,'  says  Josephus,*  '  is  good,  and  we 
work  it  to  the  utmost ;  but  our  chief  ambition  is 
for  the  education  of  our  children.'  A  father,  ac- 
cordinu  to  K.  SaIomo,t  had  as  well  bury  his  son  as 
ncgli't  hi-,  instruction;  and  it  was  a  saying  of 
K.  .Iu(hih  till-  Holy  that  '  the  world  exists  by  the 
breatli  ul  srli.M.l-dnldren.' 

A  child's  lirst  school  was  his  home  and  his  fir.st 
teachers  his  parents,  in  accordance  with  Dt  6"- ' ; 
and  his  instruction  began  veiy  early,  since  youth 
was  recognized  as  the  season  of  opportunity.  '  He 
who  learns  as  a  lad,'  said  K.  Abujah,  '  to  what  is 
he  likeV  To  ink  written  on  frcsli  paper.  And  he 
who  learns  when  old,  to  what  is  lie  like?  To  ink 
written  on  used  jiaper.'J  St.  Paul  testifies  tliat 
Timothy  had  known  sacred  literature  '  from  his 
infancy'  (airb  ^p44>ovs),  his  teachers  being — since 
his  father  was  a  Greek  and  apparently  deceased — 
his  grandmother  Lois  and  his  mother  Eunice  (2Ti 
3'^  1') ;  and  Josephus  says  that  '  from  the  very 
dawn  of  understanding'  a  Jewish  child  'learned 
the  Law  by  heart,  and  had  it,  as  it  were,  engraved 
on  his  soul.'§  It  may  be  assumea  that  Joseph  and 
Mary  would  be  no  less  zealous  than  others  in  the 
discharge  of  this  sacred  and  imperative  duty. 

When  he  reached  the  age  of  six  or  seven  years, '] 
the  boy  was  sent  to  the  elementary  school,  wdiicli, 
since  the  subject  of  study  was  the  Book  of  the 
Law,  was  styled  the  House  of  the  Book  {beth  ha- 
Sepher).  This  admirable  institution,  comparable 
to  John  Knox's  parish  school,  was  attached  to 
the  synagogue ;  and  since  there  was  a  synagogue 
in  every  village  in  the  land,    there  was  also  an 


II  According  to  the 
i'as  high  priest  from 


;  of  Joshua  ben  Gamla.  Joshua 
A.D.  63  to  65,  but  his  ordinance  was  merely 
xisting  requirements.    Cf.  Schiirer,  HJ}* 


508 


EDUCATION 


EDUCATION 


elementary  school  in  every  village.*  The  estab- 
lishment of  this  system  of  education  was  ascrihed 
to  the  celebrated  Simon  ben  Shetach,  brother  of 
.Salome  Alexandra,  the  queen  of  Alexander  Jan- 
naius  (B.C.  104-78),  and  his  successor  on  the  throne 
(B.C.  78-69).  Schiirert  summarily  dismisses  the 
tradition  with  the  remark  that  '  this  Simon  ben 
Shetach  is  a  meeting-place  for  all  kinds  of  myths.' 
Whatever  be  the  worth  of  the  tradition,  Jose- 
jihus'  reiterated  ascription  to  Moses  of  the  exceed- 
ingly thorough  system  of  education  which  prevailed 
in  liis  day,t  proves  it  no  recent  institution. 

From  the  House  of  the  Book  such  as  desired  to 
prosecute  their  studies  and  become  teachers  them- 
selves passed  into  the  Scribal  College,  styled  the 
House  of  the  Midrash  (beth  ka-Midrdsh),%  where 
the  great  Rabbis  taught.  There  were  several  of 
these  colleges  in  Palestine.  Sometimes,  like  the 
Cluistian  iKK\Tjala  (cf.  1  Co  \&^,  Col  4''),  they  met 
in  an  upper  room  in  a  private  house,||  but  gener- 
ally in  some  special  place.  The  college  at  Jabiie, 
where  It.  Elea.sar  and  R.  Ishmael  taught,  met  in  a 
place  called  the  Vineyard.  The  principal  college 
was  that  of  Jerusalem,  and  it  met  within  tlie 
Temple  -  precincts  (cf.  Lk  2*'),  probably  in  the 
Temple-synagogue.  The  Rabbi  occupied  a  low 
platform,  and  his  disciples  sat  rotind  him  on  the 
rtoor,  '  powdering  themselves  in  the  dust  of  tlie 
feet  of  the  wise,' II— an  arrangement  which  ex- 
plains St.  Paul's  expression,  '  educated  at  tlie  feet 
of  Gamaliel '(Ac  22^). 

The  disciples  were  employed  in  the  study  of  tlie 
Oral  Law— the  Tradition  of  the  Elders  (Mt  15=), 
which  in  those  days  was  regarded  with  even  greater 
veneration  than  the  Written  Law,**  and  which 
until,  at  the  earliest,  the  5th  cent,  of  our  eratt 
was  preserved  in  the  memories  of  tlie  Rabbis  and 
orally  transmitted  from  generation  to  generation. 
The  method  of  study  was  Mishna,  i.e.  '  repeti- 
tion,'JJ  the  lesson  being  repeated  over  and  over 
again  until  it  was  fixed  in  the  memory  ;  and  pro- 
ficiency lay  in  faithful  reproduction  of  the  ipsissinm 
verba  of  the  Tradition.  It  was  a  high  eulogy  of 
Eliezer  ben  Hyrcanus,  a  disciple  of  R.  Jolianan 
ben  Zakai,  when  he  was  likened  to  '  a  plastered 
cistern  which  loses  not  a  drop.'  §§ 

This  mnemonic  drill  was  not  the  sole  employ- 
ment in  the  House  of  the  Midrash.  Whatever  diffi- 
culties they  felt,  the  disciples  propounded  to  the 
Rabbis  for  elucidation. 

Often  their  questions  were  ridiculous  quibbles,  lilie  tliat  put  to 
R.  Levi  ben  Susi  in  connexion  with  Dt  259  •  if  his  brotlier's  wife 
have  lost  her  hands,  how  is  she  to  loose  his  shoe?*  |!  ||  But  the\- 
were  not  always  quite  so  trivial.  One  much  discussed  quamtto 
theologicalis  was,  'Are  they  few  that  are  being  saved?'  Some 
Rabbis  held  that '  all  Israel  would  have  a  portion  in  the  world 
to  come ' ;  others,  that  as  only  two  of  all  that  came  out  of 
Eg}i)t  entered  into  the  land  of  Canaan,  so  would  it  be  in  the 
days  of  the  Messiah.HU  Another  question  was,  'Mav  a  man 
divorce  his  wife  for  any  cause  V  (cf.  .Mt  193).  The  strict  school 
of  Shammai  peniiitted  divorce  only  on  the  fround  of  unfaith- 
fulness ;  but  that  of  Hillel  granted  greater  facilitv,  allowin"  a 
man  to  put  away  his  wife  if  he  hated  her  ;  if  he  wis  dissatisSeil 
with  her  cooking  ;  if  she  went  deaf  or  insane  ;  if  he  saw  another 
woman  whom  he  fancied  more.*** 

Not  being  designed  for  a  Rabbi,  Jesus  never 
studied  at  any  of  the  Scribal  Colleges  ;  but  once 

*  Lightfoot  on  Mt  423 ;  cf.  Lk  O".  t  BJP  ii.  ii.  p.  49 

t  Ant.  IV.  viii.  12 ;  c.  Apion.  ii.  25. 

5  '  The  Midrash  may  be  defined  as  an  imaginative  develop, 
uient  of  a  thought  or  theme  suggested  by  Scripture,  especially 
a  didactic  or  homiletic  exposition,  or  an  edifying  religious  storv"' 
(Driver,  LOr«  p.  629).  J     s        b  ry 

II  Lightfoot  on  Ac  11" ;  Taylor,  Sayings  of  Fathers,  i.  4  :  'Let 
thy  house  be  a  meeting-bouse  for  the  wise.' 

IT  Taylor,  Sauhurs  vt'  Fathen,  i.  4,  n.  11. 

'•  Lightfoot  on  Mt  15-. 

tt  .See  Margoliouth  in  Expositor,  Dec.  1904,  p.  403. 

tIThe  Greek  term  iiyrif.:ti7it  (cf.  Jer.  Algax.  Qutest.  x)  is  a 
literal  rendering  of  Mishna. 

15  Taylor,  Sayings  of  fathers,  ii.  10. 

II II  Lightfoot  on  Lk  2-10.  tf  lb.  on  Lk  1323. 

•••  n.  on  Mt  5M. 


He  sat  at  the  feet  of  the  Rabbis  in  the  House  of 
the  Midrash  at  .Jerusalem — on  that  memorable 
occasion  wlien,  on  atttiining  the  age  of  twelve  years 
and  Ijecomiiig  '  a  son  of  the  Law,'  He  for  the  lirst 
time  (?)  accompanied  Joseph  and  Maiy  on  their 
annual  pilgrimage  to  the  sacred  capital  to  celebrate 
the  Feast  of  the  Passover.  He  lingered  in  the 
city  when  His  jmrents  set  forth  on  their  return 
journey,  and  they  found  Him  on  the  third  day 
after  in  the  school  of  the  Rabbis.  '  Raise  up  many 
disciples'  was  the  Rabbinical  maxim,*  and  tlie  new 
recruit  would  be  welcome  when  He  took  His  place 
among  the  disciples.  He  was  '  sitting  in  the  midst 
of  the  Teachers,  both  listening  to  them  and  ques- 
tioning them '  (Lk  2*),  and  evincing  an  intelligence 
which  amazed  them. 


5  a  singularly  unhappy  miscon 
I  confounding  the  wise  men  bi 

The  Arab.  Erang.  Inf.  (l.-lii." 
:  them  with    questions   abou 

metaphysics,    and    anatomy 


hibition  of  Divine  w 
declares  that  He  was    i 

'things  which  tlie 
Origeii  says  :  '  He  was  questioning  the  Teachers ;  and  because 
they  could  not  answer.  He  Himseif  was  answering  the  questions 
which  He  asked.'  'He  was  questioning  the  Teachers,  not  that 
He  might  learn  aught,  but  that  by  questioning  He  might 
insti-uct  them."  t  This  is  rank  Docetism,  and  is  refuted  by  the 
Evangelist's  testimony  that  'Jesus  made  progress  in  wisdom 


ere,  pai^  pa^ 


He  had 


body. 


It  made  Jesus  an  object  of  disdain  in  the  eyes 
of  the  rulers  that  He  had  never  attended  a  Rab- 
binical College.  They  called  Him  '  a  Samaritan,' 
which  was  a  nickname  that  they  had  for  one  who 
had  never  sat  at  the  feet  of  the  Rabbis.  J  At  the 
same  time  they  could  not  deny  that  He  had  a 
knowledge  of  the  things  of  God  far  transcending 
their  theological  lore.  Again  and  again  He  en- 
countered the  wise  men  of  Israel  in  debate,  and 
worsted  them  on  their  own  proper  field  (cf.  Mk 
12^-«  =  Mt223^-«';  Mt22"-"'  =  Mk  1235-s'  =  Lk20«-«). 
And  once,  when  thej'  heard  Him  discoursing  in  the 
Temple-court,  they  marvelled  whence  He  had  de- 
rived His  wisdom.  '  How,'  they  asked,  'hatli  this 
man  learning,  though  he  hath  not  studied?'  (Jn 
1").  His  wisdom  flowed  from  a  higher  source.  The 
lofty  truths  whicli  they  were  blindly  groping  after 
and  ignorantly  reasoning  about,  the  Fatlier  had 
revealed  to  Him  (cf.  Jn  5-°). 

All  the  vaunted  -wisdom  of  the  Rabbis  Jesus 
he'd  in  very  slight  esteem.  It  was  not  indeed  His 
manner  to  despise  the  searcliings  of  earnest  souls 
after  the  knowledge  of  God,  but  the  theology  of 
His  day  was  the  very  arrogance  of  ignorance,  and 
blinded  its  votaries  to  the  truth.  It  is  a  patlietic 
fact  that  nothing  so  etl'ectually  prevented  the  re- 
cognition of  Jesus  by  the  men  of  Jerusalem  as 
their  fancied  knowleclge  of  the  things  of  God. 
Bred  in  an  atmosphere  of  disputation,  they  were 
all  controversialists,  and  at  every  turn  they  would 
raise  some  theological  objection  to  His  claims. 
Once,  when  some  wondered  if  He  were  the  Messiah, 
others  answered  that  His  origin  was  known,  and, 
according  to  the  Rabbinical  teaching,  the  Messiah 
would  appear  suddenly,  none  would  know  wlience, 
like  a  serpent  by  the  way  or  a  treasure-trove  (Jn 
720-27 .  gf  v.-"'-).  Again  it  was  objected  tliat  He 
testified  concerning  Himself ;  and  it  was  a  Rab- 
binical maxim  that  a  man's  testimony  concerning 
himself  was  invalid  (Jn  8").S  Thus  it  fared  with 
the  Messiali  when  He  made  His  appeal  to  the  men 
of  Jerusalem.  Their  minds  were  fenced  by  an  im- 
penetrable barrier  of  theological  prejudice.  It  was 
otlierwise  in  Galilee.  Among  the  unsophisticated 
folk  of  that  despised  province  the  gospel  "ained 
a  fair  hearing  and  a  ready  welcome.  All  the 
.\postles  save  Judas  were  Galiloeans.     '  I  thank 


.  on  Jn  S«. 


EGG 


EGYPT 


509 


tion' 


thee.  Father,  Lord  of  heaven  and  earth,'  said 
Jesus,  perhaps  when  He  was  leaving;  Jerusalem, 
rejected  by  her  wise  men  (Jn  Iff'"-  '"'),*  '  that  thou 
didst  hide  these  things  from  wise  and  understand- 
ing, and  didst  reveal  them  to  babes'  (Mt  11"''). 

It  is  important  to  take  account  of  this.  Does  it 
not  explain  a  difficulty  which  has  been  felt  in  con- 
ne.xion  with  the  Fourth  Gospel  ?  St.  John  repre- 
sents Jesus  as  a  controversialist  absolutely  unlike 
the  gracious  Teacher  of  the  Synoptists  ;  and  it  has 
been  alleged  that  these  representations  are  incom- 
patible. If  Jesus  spoke  as  the  Synoptists  report. 
He  cannot  have  spoken  after  the  Johannine  fashion. 
But  the  ditt'erence  is  really  a  mark  of  verisimilitude. 
Jesus  had  different  audiences  in  Galilee  and  in 
Jerusalem.  To  the  simple  ])eople  of  the  north  He 
spoke  the  language  of  the  heart,  and  couched  His 
teaching  in  parable  and  poetry  ;  but  in  Jerusalem 
He  had  to  do  with  men  whose  minds  were  steeped 
in  theology,  and  He  met  them  on  their  own 
ground,  talked  to  tlieni  in  their  own  language, 
and  encountered  them  with  tlieir  own  weapons. 
He  adapted  His  teaching  to  His  audiences.  See, 
further,  art.  Boyhood. 

44  ff.  ;  art.  on  '  Educa- 

David  Smith. 
EGG.— See  Animals,  p.  m\ 

EGYPT The  Gospel  narrative  comes  into  con- 
tact with  the  land  of  Egypt  at  one  point  alone, 
and  then  only  incidentally,  in  a  manner  wliich 
seems  to  have  exercised  no  influence  and  left  no 
trace  upon  the  course  of  sacred  history.  The 
record,  moreover,  is  confined  to  the  first  of  the 
Evangelists,  and  is  by  him  associated  with  the 
fulfilment  of  prophecy,  as  one  of  the  links  which 
drew  together  the  ancient  Hebrew  Scriptures  and 
the  life  of  our  Lord.  The  narrative  is  simple  and 
brief.  St.  Matthew  relates  that  Joseph,  in  obedi- 
ence to  the  command  of  God,  conveyed  by  an 
angel  in  a  dream,  took  refuge  in  Egypt  witli  the 
child  and  His  mother  from  the  murderous  inten- 
tions of  Herod  the  king  (Mt  2"'-).  The  return  to 
Palestine,  again  at  the  bicUling  of  an  angel  of  the 
Lord  in  a  dream,  isdescribed  (v.'^"-).  Joseph,  how- 
ever, feared  to  enter  Judjiea  because  of  Archelaus, 
Herod's  son  and  successor ;  and  in  obedience  to  a 
second  vision  directed  his  course  to  Galilee,  and 
settled  at  Nazareth  (v.-'-). 

To  St.  Matthew  it  would  appear  that  the  chief 
interest  of  the  history  lies  in  its  rclatinii  to  OT 
prophecy.  Both  movements,  the  I'li.lil  :iihI  the 
Return  to  Nazareth,  are  desiril..',!  a^  lullihnents 
of  the  word  spoken  '  througli  the  prupiiet '  (v.'=),  or 
'  through  the  prophets '  (v.'=2).  In  the  first  instance 
the  passage  quoted  is  Hos  ll^  'When  Israel  was 
a  chfld,  then  I  loved  him,  and  called  my  son  out 
ofE^ypt'  {'ah  -riN-ii;  Dnssp,  LXX  ri  Wkto  avroO, 
'  his,  i.e.  Israel's,  children ').  Hosea  recalls  the  de- 
liverance and  mercies  of  the  past  (cf.  G.  A.  Smith, 
Twelve  Prophets,  in  Ion. ) ;  the  Evangelist  sees 
history  repeating  itself  in  a  new  exodus,  which, 
like  the  earlier  departure  from  Egypt,  signalizes 
the  beginning  of  a  new  national  life,  and  is  the 
promise  and  pledge  of  Divine  favour.  Egypt, 
therefore,  to  tlie  narrator  is  no  mere  '  /geographical 
expression.'  The  name  recalls  the  memories  of  a 
glorious  past,  when  Israel's  youth  was  guided  and 
sustained  by  the  miracles  of  Divine  interposition. 
And  to  him  it  is  significant  of  much  that  this  land 
.should  tlius  be  brought  into  connexion  with  the 
birth  of  a  new  era  for  the  people,  in  the  Person  of 

^  Mt.  and  Lk.  jpive  this  lotion  in  dilferent  connexions,  neitlier 
suitable  (Mt  HMn  =  Lk  lo^i- 22).     it  is  probably  one  ot  the 
fugitive  fragments  which  the  Synoptists  have  preserved  of  the 
.  „!_■•„»-..     .,. : rkably  Johannine.    Cf.  Jn.  3^5  13^ 


a  greater  Son,  in  whom  lie  saw  tlie  fulfilment  of 
the  best  hopes  and  brightest  anticipations  of  Israel's 
ancient  prophets. 

The  narrative  of  the  Evangelist  is  absolutely 
simple  and  unadorned,  and  amounts  to  little  more 
than  a  mention  of  the  journey  into  Egypt  made 
under  Divine  direction.  No  indication  is  given 
either  of  the  locality  or  duration  of  the  stay  in 
the  country.  The  impression  conveyed,  however, 
is  that  the  visit  was  not  prolonged.*  Had  the  case 
been  otherwise,  it  would  hardly  have  failed  to  find 
mention  in  the  other  Synoptic  Gospels,  if  not  in 
St.  John.  The  absence,  therefore,  of  further 
record  is  hardly  sufficient  ground  for  throwing 
doubt  upon  the  reality  of  the'incident  itself. 

This  brief  statement  is  supplemented  and  ex- 
panded in  the  Apocryphal  Gospels  with  a  wealth 
of  descriptive  detail.  The  fullest  accounts  are 
found,  as  might  be  expected,  in  the  Gospel  of  the 
Infancy,  and  the  Gospel  of  pseudo  -  Matthew  (see 
Hastings'  DB,  Extra  Vol.  p.  430  ft".). 

In  the  Gospel  of  the  Iiif'anci/  (ch.  ix.  f.),  Joseph  and  Mary  with 
the  Child  set  out  for  Egypt  at  cock-crow,  and  reach  a  great  city 
and  temple  with  an  idol  to  whose  shrine  the  other  idols  of  Egypt 
send  gifts.  There  they  find  accommodation  in  a  hospital  dedi- 
cated to  the  idol,  and  a  great  commotion  is  caused  by  their 


the  reason  of  the  commotion,  and  are  told  that  an  'occult  god* 
has  come,  who  alone  is  worthy  of  worship,  because  he  is  truly 
Son  of  God.  Thereupon  the  idol  falls  prostrate,  and  all  the 
people  run  together  at  the  sound.  The  following  chapter 
narrates  the  healing  of  the  three-year-old  son  of  the  priest  of 
the  idol,  who  is  possessed  by  many  demons,  and  whose  sickness 
is  described  in  terms  similar  to  those  used  of  the  Gadarene 
demoniac  (Lk  827,  Mk  62-5).  Thereafter  Joseph  and  Mary  depart, 
being  afraid  lest  the  Egyptians  should  burn  them  to  death  be- 
cause of  the  destruction  of  the  idol.  Passing  on  their  wa.\-  they 
twice  meet  with  robbers  in  the  desert.  In  the  first  instance  the 
robbers  flee  on  their  approach,  and  a  number  nf  captives  are 
liberated.    At  a  considerably  later  ^^tfj.-  or  th.-ir  ifnrnp'-  ''li. 

xxiii.)  two  bandits  are  encoiinterc-l,  \\li'>^i   [j s  mii    -i  i  ii   h 

Titus  and  Dumachus,  the  former  ^  I  i  n 

not  to  molest  Joseph  and  Mary;  ;ii   I     '  !  i         - 

His  crucifixion  at  Jerusalem  tbii-i\    -.  .i~  i,i.i  ,,iiii  -r  iwn 

robbers,  and  that  Titus  shall  prt-rL.k  lluu  inLw  l'.ii.iil.^t_.  uii 
the  road  the  travellers  ha\  e  passed  tliroa<:li  many  cities,  at 


theii 


bride,  a  leprous  girl  who 
r,  and    many  others  have 
nphis  (ch.  xxv.),  where 


been  healed. 

they  see  the  Pharaoh,  and  remain  three'  years,  during  which 
period  Jesus  works  many  miracles  :  returning  at  the  end  of  the 
three  years  to  Palestine,  and  by  direction  of  an  angel  making 
their  home  at  Nazareth. 

In  a  similar  strain  the  Gosi>el  iff  pseitdo-Matthew  (ch.  xvii.  ff.) 
records  the  number  of  attendants,  with  riding  animals,  a  waggon, 
pack-oxen  and  asses,  sheep  and  rams,  that  set  out  with  Joseph 
and  Mary  from  Judaja.  In  a  cave  where  they  had  stopped  to 
rest  they  are  terrified  by  dragons,  which,  howe\'er,  worship  the 
child  Jesus ;  and  lions  'and  other  wild  beasts  escort  them  on 
their  way  through  the  desert.  A  palm-tree  bends  down  its 
lx)ughs  that  Mary  may  pluck  the  fruit;  and  as  a  reward  a 
branch  of  it  is  carried  by  an  angel  to  Paradise.  A  spring  also 
breaks  forth  from  its  roots  for  the  refreshment  of  man  and 
beast.  And  the  loiii,^  thirty  days'  journey  into  Egypt  is  miracu- 
lously shorteiir'I   iijt-i  r,iin.     Tlic  name  of  the  Egyptian  city  to 

which  they  ■■ -      il    <■■  <..■  s,)tines  mthin  the  borders  of 

Hermopolis,  a  i       :.i  i   unit,  of  any  acquaintance  from 

whom  to  seek!  iL.  refuse  in  the  temple,  called 

the  'capitof    n  .  ii    ,  .  t   ilie  temple,  to  which  divine 

honours  were  diiil_\  p;u(.l,  lail  j>nisLnLte,  and  are  broken  in  pieces; 
and  Affrodosius,  llie  governor  of  the  town,  cominfr  with  an 
aniiy,  at  sight  of  the  ruined  idols  worships  the  child  Jesus, 
and_  all  the  people  of  the  city  believe  in  God  through  Jesus 
Christ.  .Afterwards  Joseph  is  commanded  to  return  into  the  land 
of  Judah.  Nothing,  however,  is  saitl  of  the  actual  journey,  but 
a  narrative  of  events  '  in  Galilee '  follows,  beginning  with  the 
fourth  year  of  Christ's  age. 

According  to  the  Gospel  of  Thomas,  ch.  i.  ff.  (Latin,  Tisch.  Xvv. 
Apocr.  p.  156ff.),  Jesus  was  two  years  old  on  entering  Ep'pt. 
He  and  His  parents  found  hospitality  in  the  house  of  a  widow, 
where  they  remained  for  a  year,  at  the  close  of  which  they 
were  expelled  because  of  a  miracle  wrought  by  Jesus  in  brimring 
a  dry  and  salted  fish  to  life.  A  similar  fate  overtakes  tliem 
subsequently  in  being  driven  from  the  city.  The  angel  directs 
Mary  to  return,  and  she  ;,'oes  with  the  child  to  Nazareth. 
The  Historii  of  Joseph,  ch.  viii.  f.,  states  the  duration  of  the 
stay  in  Egypt  as  a  whole  year,  and  names  Nazareth  as  the  city 
in  which  Jesus  and  His  parents  lived  after  their  return  into  the 
land  of  Israel. 

The  Fliglit  of  the  Holy  Family  into  Egypt  has 
been  at  all  times  a  favourite  subject  for  the  exercise 

•  Herod's  death  (Mt  219)  would  appear  to  have  occurred  not 
long  after  the  •  Massacre  of  the  Innocents ' " 


510 


EIGHTH  DAY 


ELECT,  ELECTION 


of  Christian  art.  William  Blake,  Charles  Holroyd, 
Eugfene  Girardet,  Anthony  van  Dyke,  William 
Dobson,  and  many  others  have  painted  the  scenos 
by  the  -way  with  a  circumstance  and  detail  which 
are  indebted,  where  not  wholly  imaginary,  to  the 
accounts  of  the  Apocryphal  Gospels.  The  reality 
would  doubtless  ditl'er  widely  from  the  tranquil 
and  easy  conditions  under  which  it  has  usually 
been  depicted,  and  from  which  most  readers  have 
formed  their  mental  conceptions  of  the  event.  The 
simple  reticence  of  the  Gospel  narrative  is  in  strik- 
ing contrast  to  the  luxuriance  and  prodigality  of 
miracle  of  the  Apocryphal  story.  All  that  can  be 
affirmed  with  certainty  is  that  the  flight  would  be 
conducted  in  haste  and  with  the  utmost  secrecy, 
and  pi"obably  for  the  most  part  under  cover  of 
night.      See  also  Flight. 

LlTPRATURE.— For  liotes  OH  the  Oo?pel  narrati\o  sf>n  the  Com- 
1S53. 

Farrar,  Christ  in  Art,  pp.  263-273. 

A.  S.  Geden. 

EIGHTH  DAY On  the  eighth  day  after  birth, 

as  is  well  known,  Jewish  male  infants  received  the 
rite  of  circumcision,  and,  at  all  events  by  the  time 
of  our  Lord,  their  proper  name  also,  in  memory  of 
the  change  in  Abraham's  name  (see  Hastings'  /)/?, 
art.  'Circumcision').  Acioidin^lN  SI .  Luke  recdids 
the  fact  that  both  Jesus  Clni-i  rl'')  :<n<\  Ui<  fore. 
runner  John  the  Bapti-i  l"  i  \\'if  eiriuuiriseil 
and  named  on  the  eiglith  day  (i  I.  I'll :!',  A<-  7^  etc.) ; 
for  thus  it  became  them  '  to  fnllil  till  ri^'hteousness ' 
(i.e.  to  ob.serve  all  the  requirements  of  the  ancient 
Law  in  the  spirit  as  well  as  in  the  letter).  See, 
further,  art.  CIRCUMCISION.  C.  L.  Fkltok. 

ELDER. — In  the  Gospels  the  term  '  elder '  (irpeir- 
/Surepos)  does  not  occur  in  the  later  Christian  sense, 
denoting  an  officer  of  the  Church  (as  in  Ac  14'-'" 
20",  Tit  P,  Ja  5'*,  1  P  5').  In  the  Gospel  of  St. 
John  tlie  word  occurs  only  once,  and  that  in  the 
doubtful  passage  concerning  the  adulteress  (Jn  8"), 
where  it  has  not  any  official  sense,  but  simply 
means  older  jn  years.  In  the  Synoptics  there  is 
more  frequent  use,  mostly  in  the  official  .sense. 
The  few  cases  of  unofficial  meaning  of  the  term 
are  :  Lk  15-',  where  it  describes  the  '  elder  brother ' 
in  the  parable  of  the  l»rodigal :  and  Mt  15",  Mk 
■ja. 6^  where  it  means  'the  elders'  of  a  former  age, 
the  men  of  old  from  whom  customs  and  maxims 
are  handed  down.  In  all  the  other  passages  (Mt 
16-'  2P»  26''-  "•  "•  =»  2V-^-  '-■  ^'  ■",  Mk  8='  1 1'-'  14«-  ■'\  T,k 
9"  20' 22*2)  the  term  '  elders '—invariably  plural- 
bears  the  official  meaning  current  among  the  Jews 
of  our  Lord's  time.     What  is  that  meaning  ? 

In  the  OT  and  Apocr.  there  is  frequent  mention 
of  'elders'  in  the  official  sense  (see,  c.rj.,  Gn  50', 
Ex3'8-'s,  Lv4'^  Nu  1P»,  Dt31=»,  Jos  20^  Jg  8'^ 
1  S  16*,  2  S  5^  1  K  20',  Ezr  5^  Ezk  8',  Jth  6=', 
1  Mac  7''  1 1^,  Sus8-  '8  etc. ).  From  a  study  of  these 
and  similar  passages  it  appears  that  in  all  the 
history  of  Israel,  from  the  Egyptian  bondage  down 
to  the  time  of  Christ,  '  elders'  appear  as  an  official 
class  ;  but  the  descriptions  and  statements  are  not 
explicit  enough  to  give  a  definite  idea  of  how  they 
were  appointed  to  office,  or  of  their  exact  func- 
tions. It  is  not  improbable  that  they  were  chosen 
as  representatives  of  the  people  ;  and  the  duties  of 
the  offic^e  appear  to  have  been  threefold— advisory, 
executive,  judicial.  Further,  there  is  a  distinction 
between  local  '  elders' (those  of  a  city)  and  'the 
elders  of  Israel,'  'elders  of  the  congregation,' 
'  elders  of  the  people,'  as  they  are  variously  called. 
We  are  now  to  inquire  how  far  this  OT  use  of  the 
word  is  illustrated  in  that  of  the  Gospels. 

One  passage  only  (Lk  7")  seems  to  indicate  the 
local  'elders' — those  of  Capernaum,  the  scene  of 


the  event  described  ;  and  even  here  the  turn  of  the 
expression,  'elders  of  the  Jews,'  might  possibly 
jiuiut  to  national  'elders'  present  or  resident  ait 
Ctipeniauni.  But  on  the  whole  it  seems  more 
niitiiral  to  take  the  term  here  in  its  local  sense, 
in  all  the  remaining  piissages  cited  above,  the 
reference  is  to  the  luitioiial  '  elders.'  From  Vit- 
ringa  (rfc  -S'yMttjr.  ^V^  III.  i.  1)  downwards,  NT 
scholars  have  held  with  iijiparent  unanimity  that 
tlie  tcnii  designates  the  members  of  the  Sanliedrin 
(wh.  scri.  riiis  view  is  sustained  by  the  connexion 
tiiiil  j^-iH  i.itK.ii  (if  the  term, — u.sually  with  '  scribes ' 
and  'child  priests,' — and  by  Lk  22^',  where  the 
Sanhedrin  is  called  '  the  presbytery,'  or  assembly 
of  'elders'  (irpeirpvTipiov,  cf.  Ac  22^).  There  are 
various  forms  of  expression  :  sometimes  '  elders ' 
simply,  and  sometimes  'elders  of  the  people,'  com- 
monly associated  with  'chief  priests  and  scribes.' 
This  is  held  by  some  to  indicate  that  there  were 
three  orders  or  grades  in  the  Sanhedrin,  the 
'  elders '  being  the  lay  element,  or  representatives 
of  the  people.  This  may  be  the  case,  but  is  at 
best  only  an  inference,  neither  contradicted  nor 
supported. 

LiTERATDRE.— Hastinfts'  DB,  art.  'Elder,'  and  the  lit.  there 
mentioned ;  Jewish  Miuuc.  and  lit. ;  Gtimm-Thayer,  lexicon 
of  the  XT ;  Cremer,  Biblico-Theol.  Lex. ;  Vitringa,  de  St/n. 
i'et. ;  Schiirer,  HJP  ;  Morrison,  The  Jews  under  Homaii  Rule  ; 

Weiss,  Life  of  Christ ;  Edershcim,  Life  and  Times. 

E.  C.  Dargan. 
ELEAZAR.— An  ancestor  of  Jesus,  Mt  1"*. 

ELECT,  ELECTION  (eKX4yecreai,  reXexTcls,  eK\oyr,). 
— Tliiiui;li  «c  li,i\e  no  reference  in  the  Gospels  to 
any  ci.iisciims  ellort  on  the  part  of  the  writers  to 
;;itis]>  the  si^'iiiUcaiice  of  the  Divine  action  in  choos- 
in.t;  and  icjcrtiii.u  tlie  liuiuan  (dijects  of  His  favour 
and  the  iii^tiuineiits  iif  His  -Hill,  we  have  .sufficiently 
expliiit  slateiiicnts,  incidentally  valuable,  to  show 
(dearly  that  they  inherited  tlie  ()T  conceptions  on 
this  question.  The  self-identification  of  Jesus 
with  the  ideal  Servant  of  Jehovah  (Lk  4'8'-  =  Is  61"-) 
at  the  outset  of  His  public  ministry  at  once  widens 
the  scope  of  the  revelation  of  His  Father's  elective 
activity,  and  emphasizes  the  profound  depths  in 
human-Divine  relationships  to  which  this  activity 
in  the  freedom  of  its  manifestation  has  penetrated. 
Once  apain,  in  what  may  without  exaggeration  be 
called  Hie  uuist  critical  moment  of  Jesu.s'  public 
life,  when  sulleriug  and  death  (Lk  9»')  assumed 
hu;,'e  iiru|iort  inns  in  His  sight,  the  revelation  of  His 
posit  H. II  a-  the  elect  (.f  G.hI  {6  Ms  fi.01' 6  iKXeXeyii^vos, 
v.")  noi  only  .i~-urcd  His  fearful  disciples,  but 
strcicjl  liciH  ,1  lliiii-elf  in  His  often-expressed  con- 
viction that  the  consciimsuess  of  His  eternal  Son- 
.'ihip  was  well  founded. 

of  0  ij-XTHTnV  (Mk  97 
■nuinc  one,  not  only 
F,  bnt  nNo  hecause, 


-'  "xered  to  be  pro- 
1  end  at  which  they 

ily  ^l:ives  the  burden 
heavenly  visitants : 


ELECT,  ELECTION 


ELECT,  ELECTION 


511 


he  also  implies  that  Jesus  was  there  informed  in  detail  of  the 
character  of  the  death  which  He  was  about  to  suffer  (,irwi>.iUvt 
•iro,  .  .   .  iUyat  -ri,.  JJoJov  airoC,  &■""■). 

How  universally  the  title  nf  '  the  Elect '  or  '  the 
Elect  One '  had  become  identitied  witli  that  of  '  the 
Christ '  is  best  seen  in  the  contemptuous  irony  of 
the  scoffing  rulers  who  mocked  on  the  day  of  the 
Crucifixion  The  demonstrative  oBtos  and  the  titu 
lar  6  cKXekTos  combine  to  mark  the  emphasis  w  ith 
which  they  i  ejected  the  Messianic  claims  of  Jesus 
and  not  only  the  <  laims,  but  the  foundation  upon 
which  those  claims  ipsted  (cf  Lk  23'^)  It  is  ip 
markable  that  M  Lukt  seems  to  be  the  onlj  Is  1 
writer  who  has  adopted  the  us(  of  the  woul  as  i 
designation,  stiictly  speakini,,  of  the  Messiah  (cf 
however,  the  variant  leadin^'  o  e^Ne/iTos  m  tin 
Baptist's  testimony  to  Jesus  Jn  1«  WH)  This 
statement  is  not  attected  bj  St  Matthew  s  quota 
tion  from  Isaiah  (42'),  who  may  be  legarded  as  the 
originatoi  of  the  title  Heiev\e  have  the  idea  in 
prominence,  but  by  ■N\ay  of  interpretation  lather 
than  by  duect  statement  (tf  his  use  of  the  verb 
■QfiiTiaa,  Mt  1218,  instead  of  the  merely  descriptive 
6  eK\(K6!  fiov  of  Is  42'). 

The  only  other  wxiting  of  a  late  date  in  which  '  the  Elect  One 
appears  as  a  Messianic  title  is  the  Book  of  Eimcli,  i  i  n  .  .  ui 
to  have  been  the  chief  means  of  popularizing  i(s  11  I     !      ' 

would  be  interesting  to  trace  the  influence  of  1 1 1  1 1 
as  well  as  in  other  respects,  upon  the  Gospels  rit  1 1  -  .  ' 
many  names  by  which  the  coming  Messiah  is  <i.-i_:i  .i -i  i  h.  rr, 
the  favourite  one  seems  to  be  '  the  Elect  One '  (see  40'>  45-1  4:)-.  * 
613.  6  626. 9  654  615. ».  10  621),  and  on  a  couple  of  occasions  this  is 
joined  with  another  word  or  words  which  are  equivalent  to  a 
characterization  of  the  conditions  upon  which  His  election  to 
the  Messiahship  restij  ('  the  righteous  and  elect  one,'  531 ;  *  the 
elect  one  of  righteousness  and  faith,'  39ii  [see  The  Book  of  Enoch, 
R.  H.  Charles'  ed.  pp.  106-186]).  A  somewhat  fantastic  repre- 
sentation of  the  method  by  which  the  Divine  election  of  Jesus 
was  consummated  occurs  in  Hernias,  where  the  servant  elected 
by  his  lord  (UXi|«fi.!vo5  icixiy  t..«  T,o~ro.,  x.T.)..),  after  having 
approved  himself  as  a  zealous  guardian  of  his  master's  interests. 

is  chosen  by  the  latter  (utm  mO  -rtUf^ccro;   ky,m  uXet-rc  Kosmtioy) 

to  occupy  the  position  of  '  great  power  and  lordship.'  Whatever 
we  may  think  of  the  orthodo.xy  of  this  teaching,  it  is  at  least 
interesting  as  showing  how  completely  the  habits  of  thought  in 
the  early  Church  were  dominated  by  this  aspect  of  the  Incarna- 
tion, and  how  men  strove  by  the  aid  of  reason  to  harmonize  the 
ideas  underlying  the  titles  of  'Servant 'and  'Son '(see  Sim.  5, 
i.-vi.). 

As  the  Christological  ideas  of  the  early  Church 
begin  to  emerge  and  to  crystallize,  we  find  this  one 
holding  a  firm  place,  while  at  the  same  time  another 
equally  emphatic  conception  begins  to  assert  itself. 
The  election,  by  God,  of  Jesus  »:is  lii'ld  to  lie  :< 

means  to  a  wider  end — the  est:ilili-li ni  ni  ,i  cliorn 

body  which  should  exhibit  on  cntli  llic  ;ji:iri'~  .iml 
virtues  of  Him  in  and  through  \\li.>iii  tlu-ir  I'lrction 
was  accomplished  (cf.  1  P  2'"-  '■"■,  where  tlie  writer's 
insistence  on  the  profound  oneness  of  Jesus  and  His 
people  is  fundamentally  and  essentially  Pauline, 
though  he  elaborates  no  argument  to  |iifive  what 
he  states  ;  cf.  f|eX^t'"'o  W^s  f''  «'  "--    '  I'li  I  '' 

•The  fundamental  conception  of  .!■- 11     '  i\  thing 

was,  according  to  the  OT,  that  God  ttai  I  II  l;lirniigh 

Him  the  Church.    God  had  chosen   II  1 1    n  to  be 

both  Lord  and  Christ.    He  luul  h  :i  .mik  of 


i.  p.  81).     'TheChriM   Ki     ., 
as  a  communion  resting  on  n  - 1 1   i  •  . 

We  must  not  forget.  In. re- 
election has  its  roots  struck 
which  issued  in  the  Incaiii.i 
from  the  latter,  which  is  the  m 
of  the  former,  we  cannot 


.It  this  Mivine 
ill  the  election 
ti<l  that,  apart 
and  guarantee 
he  existence  of 
an  elect  race '  (v/xeh  di  y^fo^  eK\eKT6i>,  1  P  2").  This 
was  apprehended  very  soon  liy  the  Fatliers  of  the 
Church,  who  never  separate  the  idea  of  the  elec- 
tion of  Jesus  from  that  of  the  comiiiuiiity  (o  ^nXe^d- 
fj.€i/o?  rbv  Kl/ptoy  'Ifioovv  Xpiartiv  Kal  ijad-i  di  avrov, 
K.T.X.,  Clem.  Rom.  Ep.  rir/  <_',„:  Ixiv.  ;'  cf.  also  tlie 
Paulinism  6  Xady  6v  rjToiixaafi'  iv  tQi  -q-^air-q^h't^  auroi), 
Ep.  of  Barnabas  iii.  6).  While  it  is  recognized  that 
the  ultimate  Author  of  all  elective  purpose  is  God 
the  Father,  it  is  agreed  that  the  active  Agent  in 


giving  expression  to  tlie  Divine  decree  is  the  Son, 
apart  from  whom  (el  firj  5i'  ifioD,  Jn  14*)  it  is  not 
only  impossible  for  men  to  approach  God,  but  even 
to  hear  tlie  voice  of  that  calling  (/.X^ireus  4novpavLov, 
He  31,  cf.  12-''')  whicli  He  addresses  to  them  in  Christ 
(6  KaXiaas  i/xas  .  .  .  ei>  Xpitrrijj,  1  P  5'"),  and  which, 
when  heard,  is  the  antecedent  condition  of  their 
(.lection  (tf  2  P  V,  see  oi  kXtjtoI  Kal  iK\eKTol  Kal 
■wi<Troi    Re\     W*) 


Is 01  IS  the  teaching  of  Jesus  Himself  devoid  of 
references  to  those  chosen  by  God  out  of  mankind 


'as  vessels  made  f 
He  indirectly  tells 
lluence  in  the  Di 
which  makes  for 
The  awful  scenes  ; 


((f  2Ti'2=i,  Ro  n-'). 


It  in  the  aniiil,il;iti<.i,   ..I    il, 

il.i.ii I  inli,d,ii;iiits,  wereitnot  that,  ■  f.n-  ihr  s.-ikr 

I'f    his    rhosrii,'    ilie  Lord   (some  of   tl lil    l,;iliii 

M-isinns  K'.-iil  Ih-iis)  had  determined  t<i  cut  .sIhuI 
the  duration  of  that  period  (cf.  Mk  13-"  =  Mt  24'--, 
in  both  of  which  passages  occurs  the  verb  koXo^ovv, 
found  nowhere  else  in  the  NT,  showing  the  inter- 
dependence of  the  two  authors,  although  the  forms 
of  the  verb  in  both  places  are  not  the  same).  St. 
Luke  does  not  make  any  mention  in  this  part  of 
his  record  of  the  elect,  but  curiously  enough  he 
makes  a  reference  to  the  vengeance  of  God  being 
wreaked  (ijixipai.  iKSLK-qacw^,  Lk  21--)  on  the  un- 
fortunate city,  which  reminds  us  of  the  v\ords  of 
.lesus  contained  in  another  passage  in  the  same 
Gospel.  Jesus  there  is  said  to  speak  of  God 
'avenging  his  elect'  (6  Si  Seos  01'  /x-ij  Troi-qari  Tr)v  (k- 
SIktictiv  tQv  iK\(KTwv  avTov,  Lk  18').  It  may  be  per- 
missilile  to  ('onjecture  that  St.  Luke  omitted  to 
niriition  Jc-n-.'  reference  to  the  elect  in  the  former 
colli iM  li.'.jn-e  of  the  promise  imjilied  in  the 
iiilci  i..;j:iiiii  \  riiience  just  quoted.  On  the  other 
liaiiii.  il  i~  |iiissilile  that  adisplaceiiient  has  occurred 
ill  till'  text,  with  the  result  th.-it  vc  lia\e  a  double 
ivfirciK  (•  to  God's  activity  on  lirJi.'iU  of  His  chosen, 
.■,h1i  lifiiig  .suitable  to  th.-  trxiu.il  position  it 
01  riipii's.  The  subject  of  the- ]irayris  of  those  who 
appeal  (tui>  ^ouvtoiv  avrv)  '  day  and  night '  is  that, 
in  the  first  place,  they  may  be  delivered  from  in- 
justice ;  anil,  secondly,  that  they  may  soon  see  the 
vengeance  of  God  active  on  their  behalf  against 
those  who  oijpress  them  (cf.  (KSlK-qa6v  ixe  airb  toO  avri- 
SIkov  fioii,  Lk  18',  where  the  first  idea  is  prominent : 
and  eKdiKfU  .  .  .  ec  tUv,  k.t.X.,  Rev  6I",  in  whicli 
the  second   thought  is   emiiliasized  :   cf.   also  the 

reference  to  the  cry  of  Abel's  1.1 1  for  \.'iigeance, 

cf.  He  12=^  =  Gn  41").  It  is  |.o  ilih  ih;it,  by  in- 
terpreting the  cry  of  the  eled  III  iliis  iwotohl  sense, 
we  are  able  to  obtain  a  clearer  idea  ol  the  meaning 
of  the  '  longsutl'ering '  of  God  with  regard  to  them 
(liaKpodvixei  iv  avTois).  The  ambiguity  of  the  ex- 
pression is  mitigated  if  we  remember  that  the 
patience  of  God  is  needed  even  by  His  elect,  whose 
insistent  (cf.  tpunrj  /MeydXr],  Rev  61°,  and  rnxipa^  Kal 
vvKTd!,  Lk  18')  appeal  for  vengeance  on  their 
enemies  .and  oppressors  is  not  in  harmony  with  the 
voice  of  that  blood  by  which  they  were  redeemed 
(aliia  f}avTitrfioO,  He  12-^).  Much  more,  of  course, 
does  the  patient  waiting  of  God,  sometimes 
amounting  even  to  seeming  tardiness,  reveal  His 
tenderness  when  exemplified  in  the  case  of  those 
who  torment  His  elect  (Cits  nva  /SpaSurfiTa  riyovvTai, 
•2  V  3").     Arising  out  of  this  thought  we  are  not 


512 


ELECT,  ELECTION 


ELECT,  ELECTION 


surprised  to  find  on  more  than  one  occasion  that 
not  only  is  it  insufticient  for  their  final  acceptance 
that  min  should  be  '  called'  (cf.  the  contract  ttoXXoI 
K^rrrcl  and  oXi7<"  «>^«"'.  ^t  22")  for  this  is  in 
harmony  with  much  of  Jesus'  teaching  elsewhere 
(cf  Mt  7=^-  =«  etc.),  but  that  there  is  even  a  danger 
that  the  elect  may  lose  that  to  and  for  which  they 
were  chosen  (see  .  .  .  dTro^Xa^?^  .  .  .  J"""'"'^^;^"^'; 
Mk  13--  cf  Mt  24-^ ;  ei  Swardv  can  liaidly  be  an 
irapUed 'assertion  of  the  impossibility  of  success 
attending  the  efforts  of  the  false  teachers  to  lead 
astray  the  elect;  it  rather  refers  to  that  object 
whicii  they  had  in  view).  Another  and  a  fui-thei 
condition  must  be  fulfilled  before  the  chosen 
of  God  may  claim  the  salvation  to  which  Uiey 
were  elected  (.  .  .  ^^^j^^^f ^'7^,;^''' ^"^'n 'T 
On  more  than  one  occasion  Jesus  insists  on  the 
necessity  of  endurance  or  perseverance  up  to  the 
very  end  of  their  experiences  (o  "roMei>;as  ... 
<ru,4<rera.,  Mk  13'=  =  Mt  24'^;  cf.  Mt  }f,  Eph  6  «), 
and,  on  the  other  hand,  we  are  JvLstified  m  apply- 
in"  to  this  place  His  warning,  which  He  gave  to 
thSse  whose  joy  in  receiving  the  gospel  niessa-e 
was  but  a  transitory  (7rp6ir/caipos,  Mtld- -iVlKi  ) 
emotion.  Of  a  like  nature  is  the  i°"dental  i^; 
mark  of  the  seer  of  the  Apocalypse,  that  Jesu.s 
companions  in  His  warfare  with  'the  beast  are 
those  who  not  only  were  called  and  elected,  but 
whose  calling  and  election  had  been  crowned  by 
their  enduring  faithfulness  (Trid-roi,  Rev  17  ).  VV  e 
are  thus  able  to  appreciate  the  anxiety  of  later 
Christian  writers,  who  emphasized  this  part  ot 
Jesus'  teaching,  and  who  reminded  their  readers 
tliat  their  entrance  into  the  eternal  kingdom  ot 
Jesus  was  conditioned  by  their  enduring  zeal ;  for 
in  this  way  alone  their  '  calling '  and  election 
were  made  stable  and  lasting  and  certain  (iSf^aia./ 
i-tiuf  T'qv  K\i)<iiy  Kal  iK\orp]v  Troierfff^ai,  2  P  1 
H 


Di\-ine  purpose  in  them.  He  also  recognizes  no  less 
distinctly  that,  according  to  that  purpose,  theirs 
was  a  high  destiny  (.  .  -  A"  ^ovXiiv  rod  SeoO  iieir-naay 
(is  iaiTous,  Lk  7*'  [cf.  for  the  use  of  /SouXt)  in  this 
^en'^e  Ac  2^  4^  20=7,  Eph  1",  He  6"]),  and  it  seems 
as  if  at  times  His  realization  of  what  this  people 
might  have  become,  and  His  keen  disappointment 
at  their  actual  achievement,  led  Him  into  speaking 
disparagingly  of  those  who  were  outside  the  Jewish 
covenant  (cf.  the  contrast  vfiels  .  .  .  W"s.  Jn  4  , 
which  is  the  verbal  expression  of  a  contrast  running 
throufh  the  whole  narrative  [see  Westcott,  Gospel 
of  Sf.  John,  ad  loc]  ;  cf.  also  the  priWlege  involved 
ill  the  word  TpQroi'  as  well  as  the  harsh  contrast 
W/cra  [TraiSia]  .   .   .   Kuvapia,  Mk  7"'-). 

We  niav  here  note  that  St.  Matthew  has  preserved  several 
fragmenU  which  deal  with  the  clain,  of  Israel  ^fJ;<^'^.^°'P}?^ 
to  be  the  sole  recipients  of  the  gospe  messajfe  (Mt  llFi;  ^  IM 
■^■i5f0  though  he  also  records  savings  of  Jesus  which  conflict  with 
this  (241°  2819,  c?:Mk  1310  uif  145  1615,  Lk  2447).  ^Perhaps  the 

'  striking  instance  of  these  just  referred  to  is  that  in  wmcn 

"■    —  —  '"r  the  evangelization  of  Israel  alone, 
int,  and  t'Sa.l  no  time  is  to  be  lost. 


,asHi! 


that  His  '  coming '  is  inimin( 

because,  in  any  event,  the 

evtdenTtS^'^hiieVer'may  haVe  been  the  case  with  regard  U 

jIsus" actual  knowledge  of^he  date  of  HisP«ro-,a  those  who 

heard  His  words  understood  Hini  to  mean  .'.^^'.'''"""'i.'f,^ 

over  the  Evan-elists  seem  to  have  established  an  intimate  con- 
consciousness  of  early  Christianity  betwe-  "■» 
-  caching  of  His  gospel  to  ■-       - 

Edersheini,  Li'/e  and  Til 
of.  also'O.  Holtzmann,  /,1'if"  ./fSK,  Eng.  ■ 
•  It  might,  of  course,  be  objected, 
of  the  judginen 

disciples'  '^or^^^r-^-^-^.i  o7The"discipIes'  preaching 
the  latter  had  been  given  the  Law  and 
tri.-s  of  the  ohjectin  -■- * 


second  coming  and  the  preaching  of  His  gospel  to  '  the  c 
Israel' (Ac  3<Roli«;         ^  •    -    -    '■/ 


cf. 


That  Jesus  held  firmly  by  the  Jewish  beliet  in 
the  election  of  that  race  to  spiritual  prmlege,  is 
evidenced  by  many  signs  both  in  His  teachin"  and 
His  methods  of  work.  It  is  true  that  His  words  are 
in  perfect  harmony  wth  the  Baptist's  scornfiU  warn- 
in"  a-^ainst  that  foolish  pride  of  birth  which  leaves 
oul  of  sight  the  responsibility  involved  by  privilecje 
(cf.  Mt  3»'-  and  Jn  S'^'-).  At  the  same  time  He  is 
no  less  ready  to  assert  the  claims  of  His  fellow- 
countrymen  to  the  rights  which  were  theirs  as  the 
Divinely  chosen  people  ir,  ^u,r-npla  (k  rH,'  lovSaj.^^ 
i,rlv,  Jn  4=-^,  cf.  rhv  ipro.  r£.  r^..o,.,  Mt  lo-^). 
The  stin"  of  His  bitter  denunciation  of  con- 
temporary religionists  lay  in  His  recognition  ot 
their  spiritual  position,  and  of  the  fact  that  tliey 
of  ri"ht  were  the  teachers  of  the  people  (eiri  t^s 
M<o,rfa,s  KaSidpa,.  Mt  23=,  cf.  v.'™-).  tn  spite  of 
many  disappointing  experiences.  He  was  again  and 
again  amazed  at  the  lack  of  faith  and  spiritual 
insight  amongst  '  Israelites '  (Mt  8>»  =  Lk  7» ;  Jn  S\ 
cf  Sik  6'),  and  His  pathetic  lament  over  the  de- 
cayin"  Jerusalem  shows  how  eagerly  He  had  hoped 
to  make  the  Jewish  nation  realize  its  ancient  place 
as  the  '  first-begotten  '  in  the  family  of  His  Father 
(Ex  4=,  Jer  31",  cf.  He  12^).  His  activity  m  this 
direction  betrays  itself  both  in  His  words  which 
incidentelly  express  His  feelings  (fl^es  npurou  x°p- 
ra^e^.a.  ra  riK.a,  Mk  7",  Mt  15^*)  and  m  His 
deliberate  instructions  to  His  disciples  to  confine 
their  missionary  labours  '  to  the  lost  sheep  of  the 
liouse  of  Israel '  (Mt  10«).  We  are,  however,  bound 
to  remember  that  St.  Matthew  alone  records  thi.s 
restriction,  and  that  there  are  some  evidences  of 
the  abandonment  of  its  strict  enforcement  even  by 
Jesus  Himself  (Jn  4^'^,  cf.  Ac  1»  8'«-). 

Thouch  Jesus  felt  Himself  forced  to  recognize 
in  the  attitude  of  the  Pharisees  and  lawyers  of 
His  day,  the  failure  of  God's  people  to  realize 


the  idea  oUhe  universality 

leaves  no  sufficient  reason  for  restricting  the 
the  Jewish  people,  and  that  the  heathen  i 
perhaps  i 

than  the  Jews,  since  ti 
the  Prophets.  The  ju 
But  against  it  we  hav  r 
etc.  (O.  Holtzmann.  . 
the  limiting  v  ' 
to  His  connction 
Israel.     'Thesayiu'.' 


also  their  future  juili':  li    iniii    :.    i-    |Mm,,,H,   ■^  "J"  "'■"   ' 

Sran  ingathering  .  .  .  which,  as  a  whole,  insisted  of  native 
Israelites'  (Wendt,  Lehre  Jem,  Eng.  tr.  ii.  349 f.). 

Not  only  do  we  find  Jesus  recognizing  and  acting 
upon  the  t)T  conception  of  the  national  election  ot 
Israel— that  preferential  treatment  which  His  fellow- 
countrymen  claimed  as  of  right-though  He  re- 
minded them  from  time  to  time  that  m  order  to  a 
genuine  Abrahamic  descent  it  was  necessary  to 
Cultivate  an  ethical  and  spiritual  likeness  to  their 
ereat  forefather,  whicli  would  alone  complete  t  leir 
title  to  the  promises  made  to  them  through  hini 
(cf.  the  implied  contrast  between  physical  and 
spiritual  descent  in  the  words  <nr4piMa  and  Wcto, 
j^  gS7. 39 .  ef .  Lk  3^  =  Mt  3').  Jesus  also  Himself,  in 
establishing  His  Kingdom  amongst  men,  proceeds 
alon"  lines  exactly  parallel  to  these.  He  assumes 
to  Hmiself  the  right  to  select  certain  instruments 
whereby  His  desiims  may  be  furthered  and  ulti- 
mately accomplish- 1.  a:  H,.  w.^s  the  Chosen  and 
Sent  of  His  Futl..  i,  -..  II.  ,-  .U-legated  to  choose 
and  send  others,  v,l.„  nw  ,.  t-.  1..-  the  few  through 
whom  God's  work  upon  the  many  wa-s  to  be  accom- 
plished (cf  Jn  17'*  20='  13''  etc.).  It  is  true  that  at 
times  Jesus  speaks  of  His  disciples  as  His  Father  s 
choice  and  possession  (o-oi  fi<rav,  Jn  1/  ),  and  that 
they  aif  His  by  His  Father's  gift  {not  avrov,  fSuKOS, 
ffdiffTiv  Kalra  aaefi.a,v."'). 
lO  less  emphatic  in  His  de- 
His  own  elect,  the  result 


i:^«:vi.>.alrk.-i 
At  tll.'s.'u.i.-tin.. 

elaratioiis  that   t      .  ,  ,   > , 

of  His  own  discriminating  choice  (ey^  fJeXf^dMrji'  "/*>" 

(K  ToO  Kd^/xov,  Jn  lo'" ;  cf.  (yC>  oiSo  rlpas  fffXetdw". 

„i     13'")      Our  k-nowledge  of  Jesus'  acquaintance  w-ith 

the  !  the  characters  of  His  disciples  prior  to  tlieir  selec- 


ELECT,  ELECTION 


ELECT,  ELECTION 


513 


tion  by  Him,  is  too  scanty  to  permit  us  to  judge 
accurately  of  His  metliods  ;  but  from  the  fact  tliat 
tiiey  were  for  tlie  most  part  natives  of  that  part  of 
Galilee  where  His  earliest  activity  displayed  itself, 
and  that  some  of  them  were  antecedently  disciples 
of  the  Baptist,  we  are  led  to  conclude  that  He  pos- 
sessed sufficient  individual  acquaintanceship  to 
warrant  His  choice  (cf.  Mk  I"'"'-,  Mt  i'^^;  Lk  S'"- ; 
see  Jn  l'""''-).     He  seems,  moreover,  to  have  felt  a 

ivy  wei< 
and  in  the 

His  life,  He  seems  to  congratulate  Himself  on  being 
able  to  render  a  good  account  of  His  stewardship 
in  this  respect.  As  the  result  of  His  guardianship 
{iyii  iripovv  avToii^  .  .  .  ical  eipiXa^a,  Jn  17'-),  they 
all  justified  His  choice  with  but  one  exception,  and 
that  excejrtion  had  its  mournful  justification  {Ua  ij 
ypatjAi  irX-ripoierj),  and,  in  spite  of  the  necessity  of 
such  failure  (/cara  rb  wpiaixivov,  Lk  22-" ;  cf.  Ac  2^, 
see  also  Lk  17'  =  Mt  IS"),  its  awful  warning  (oial 
Si  Tif  dvepdiTTv  fVeicif)  01  oii,  k.t.X.,  Mk  14^',  Mt  26**). 
The  work  which  this  cliosen  nucleus  was  destined 
to  achieve  finds  also  a  definite  place  in  the  con- 
sciousness of  Jesus  as  He  looks  out  on  the  world 
and  dowii  the  future  ages.  He  does  not,  in  fact, 
hesitate  to  name  those  who  are  to  be  brought  to 
share  in  the  glory  and  in  the  power  of  His  judg- 
ment-coming, though  they  are  scattered  in  all 
directions  over  the  world  {(k  tuu  Ttaadpav  d.vdp.av  a.T' 
&Kpov  7^s  fois  &Kpov  oiipavoO,  Mk  13-'  =  Mt  24^'),  His 
elect  {toi;s  ckXektoi)?  avToO). 

The  work  wrought  by  the  little  band  chosen  by  Christ,  and 
continued  by  their  successors  from  one  j^eneration  to  another 
durintf  the  period  intervening;  between  the  initiation  of  His 
Kingdom  and  its  consummation,  can  hardly  he  better  deli:ieated 
than  in  the  words  of  the  present  Bishop  of  Binniny:ham  :  '  The 
Apostles  were  the  first  "elect"  in  Christ  with  a  little  Jewish 
company.  "  We," — so  St.  Paul  speaks  of  the  Jewish  Christians, 
— "we  who  had  before  hoped  in  Christ."  But  it  was  to  show 
the  way  to  all  the  Gentiles  ("ye  also,  who  have  heard  the  word 
of  the  truth,  the  gospel  of  your  salvation  ")  who  were  also  to 
constitute  "God's  own  possession"  and  His  "heritage."  The 
purpose  to  be  realized  is  a  universal  one :  it  is  the  reunion  of 
man  with  man,  as  such,  by  being  all  together  reunited  to  God 
in  one  body.  .  .  .  And  the  Church  of  the  reconciliation  is  God's 
elect  body  to  represent  a  Divine  purpose  of  restoration  far 
wider  than  itself — extending,  in  fact,  to  all  creation.  It  is  the 
Divine  purpose,  with  a  view  to  "a  dispensation  of  the  fulness  of 
the  times,  to  sum  up"  or  "bring  together  again  in  unity"  all 
things  in  Christ.  .  .  .  This  great  and  rich  idea  of  the  election 
of  the  Church  as  a  special  body  to  fulfil  a  universal  purpose 
of  recovery,"  etc.  (Gore,  The  Epikle  to  the  Ephesians,  p.  71  f.). 

Here,  then,  we  have  in  its  incipient  stages  a 
revelation  of  this  Divine  process  of  working  in  its 
new  and  wider  aspect.  There  is  fundamentally  no 
change  of  method,  but  rather  a  consecration  of  what 
has  always  in  the  OT  been  recognized  as  God's 
plan  of  work  (cf.  e.ff.  Am  3^,  Dt  7*  etc.).  In  the 
fresh  start,  so  to  speak,  which  He  has  made  we 
find  His  choice  not  merely  involved  in  the  Incarna- 
tion as  the  mode  of  procedure,  but  in  the  election 
of  the  Man  Jesus  (Lk  &>^),  whom  He  deliberately 
ordained  or  appointed  (eV  dudpl  f-  dpiacv,  Ac  17^',  cf. 
10^)  for  His  work.  Jesus,  acting  on  authority 
delegated  to  Him,  chooses  certain  men  and  sends 
them  to  carry  out  what  He  has  commenced.  In 
the  end  He  breaks  down  all  national  barriers  and 
limitations  (Mt  28'^,  cf.  Mk  16''),  and  people  in 
every  nation  (eV  vavrl  Idvet,  Ac  lO'*")  are  accepted 
by  Him  so  long  as  they  '  fear  God  and  work  right- 
eousness.' 

KeepiniT  these  facts  and  considerations  in  mind, 
we  are  at  liberty  to  ask  ourselves  the  very  difficult 
questions.  On  what  basis  does  the  Divine  election 
stand  ?  Is  there  any  antecedent  condition  in  com- 
plying with  which  men  are  placed  amongst  the 
number  of  God's  elect?  From  whatever  point  of 
view  we  look  at  this  mystery,  one  thought,  at 
least,  clearly  emerges :  in  His  choice  of  Israel  as 
the  guardian  of  the  sacred  deposit  of  religious 
truth,  God  exhibited  His  wisdom  in  a  way  we,  as 
students  of  the  Divine  government  of  the  world, 
VOL,  I.— 33 


can  discern  and  appreciate.  Their  genius  for  the 
work  entrusted  to  them  is  universally  recognized 
(cf.,  on  the  other  hand,  such  pa.ssages  as  Dt9''-  10", 
Jer  31'- ^  Mai  I-'-,  which,  however,  do  not  conflict 
with  the  general  truth  of  our  statement,  though 
they  emphasize  the  absolute  freedom  of  God's 
choice).  From  them  and  from  them  solely  have 
come  into  the  world  those  truths  which  spring 
from  a  pure  and  spiritual  monotheism  ;  and  we  are 
not  forbidden  to  recognize,  in  the  analogous  lessons 
taught  to  the  world  by  other  nations,  that  'the 
principle  of  selection'  (^  Kar  ^KXoyriv  Trpdeecris,  Ko 
9")  finds  its  place  in  their  history  too  (see  Sanday- 
Headlam,  '  Komans '  in  Internat.  Crit.  Com.  pp. 
248  ft-.,  342 fi;  etc.).  When  we  remember  that  to 
the  consciousness  of  Jesus  the  full  and  final  revela- 
tion of  His  unique  Divine  Sonship  was  only  made 
at  His  Baptism  (Mt  3"  =  Mk  l"=Lk  3^2),  and  con- 
firmed beyond  doubt  during  the  period  of  His 
Temptation,  we  are  at  liberty  to  believe  that 
His  previous  life  was  a  gradual  preparation  for  His 
final  election,  as  well  a.s  a  proof  that  in  selecting 
Him  for  His  work  HLs  Father  had  chosen  the  fittest 
Instrument  to  reveal  Himself  to  mankind.  Re- 
membering, too,  the  Gradual  gathering  together  by 
Je.sus  of  His  little  band  of  chosen  disciples  and 
followers,  and  the  care  taken  by  Him  in  training 
and  disciplining  them  for  their  position  and  work, 
we  are  able  to  apijrehend  in  some  dim  way  the  neces- 
sity of  a  moral  and  spiritual  correspondence  be- 
tween Him  who  chooses  and  His  chosen.  The  fact 
that  Jesus  Himself  included  Jud.as  Iscariot  amongst 
the  number  of  His  '  elect '  (Jn  6™)  does  not  invali- 
date this  contention,  as  we  may  well  be  allowed  to 
believe  that  the  unhappy  traitor  exhibited  a  char- 
acter sufficiently  endowed  with  spiritual  possibili- 
ties to  justify  his  election  to  the  Apostleship. 
Perhaps  he  may  be  adequately  described  as  one  of 
those  labourers  who,  having  been  hired  {fuaSilxraaOai 
ipydrai,  Mt  20')  to  work  in  the  vineyard,  were  ulti- 
mately rejected  because  they  failed  to  correspond 
with  their  new  environment. 

We  may  here  note  two  different  uses  to  which  the  word 
'elect'  or  its  equivalent  idea  is  put  in  the  Gospels,  (a)  It 
describes  those  who  are  chosen  tor  a  certain  definite  work,  and 
are  for  this  purpose  endowed  with  suitable  characteristics,  and 
elected  to  certain  special  privileges  and  spiritual  graces  (see 
Mt  2422. 24,  Mil  1320.  22).  For  them  endurance  and  active  perse- 
verance to  the  end  alone  ensure  their  final  salvation  (ev  t^  ire- 
wflv^  ifjMv  xrv^iniTHi  rocs  ■i'vxets  vfj,i^v,  Lk  2119),  though  they  are 
always  to  remember  that  God's  active  sympathy  is  ever  on 
their  side  (18'').  ()3)  It  is  also  used  of  those  whose  salvation  is 
assured  by  their  sharing  in  the  power  and  glorv  of  the  returning 
Messiah  Ousri  Imi/jLUti;  xo.;  iiir.s  3-oXAii,-,  Mt  •i43i  =  Mk  1326;  of. 
oXtyoi  ixXucToi,  Mt  2'21*). 

In  conclusion,  we  may  be  permitted  to  point  out 
that  in  acting  on  '  the  principle  according  to  elec- 
tion,' God  has  for  ever  vindicated  His  justice  and 
righteousness  by  choosing  us  '  in  Christ '  (see  iv 
XpitTTi^,  iv  avT(f,  Eph  V-).  By  and  in  the  Incarna- 
tion the  human  race  and  the  separate  individuals 
of  the  race  have  received  tliuM-  cipacitics  and  en- 
dowments which  fit  them  for  lliiii  wml^  and  for 
their  Divinely  appointed  desliii'i  (us  iriwra^  dvepih- 
Tov$  eiXei.  ffueijvai,  1  Ti  2'').  No  unc  in  tlie  fore- 
ordaining counsels  of  God  is  contemplated  as 
doomed  to  eternal  exclusion  from  His  presence  {nv 
pov\6ixev6i  rivas  dTroXecrflai,  2  P  3"),  and  if  they  are 
thus  shut  out  finally  (S-rrov  6  (tkuXi]^  avrCv  ov  rfXerrg, 
K.T.X.,  Mk  Q^),  it  is  becau.se  of  tlicir  own  (Irlil.riMtc 
action  in  causing  their  bodies  to  In'  MT\aiit-.  of  un 
righteousness,  and  thus  in  bein;.;  .stniiililiii.u Moc  ks 
in  the  N\av  of  tlio  s.-ilvation  of  their  fellow-men  (ci. 
Mt  :<'-"■  ls'>'',  Ml,  iH-n-  etc.).  No  excuse  as  to  lack 
of  opporl  unit  y  oi  |iiivilege  will  avail  ;  for  although 
inc(iu:ilit\'  «  ill  .'Uways  here  as  elsewhere  exist,  none 
shall  1)6  judged  apart  from  their  capacities  and 
opportunities  {ixda-rcp  Kara  rriv  Idiav  Svya/xiv,  Mt  25"') ; 
and  all  shall  be  recompensed  according  to  the  kno^v- 
ledge  they  were  able  to  acquire  (Lk  12"'-).     It  is 


514 


ELI,  ELI 


ELISABETH 


true  that  apart  from  Christ  (xwpls  4ix.ov,  Jn  15^)  we 
are  powerless  for  good  ;  but  as  none,  not  even  those 
who  have  never  heard  His  name,  are  outside  Him 
(rairavTa  iv  avTif  avviaT-qKev,  Col  1";  cf.  Epll  1™'),  so 
none  need  be  apart  from  Him  in  that  profounder 
sense  whereby  human  life  becomes  Divinely  active 
and  abundantly  fruitful.  To  all  is  given  the  oppor- 
tunity of  attaining  the  end  to  which  they  are  called 
and  chosen.  J.  It.  AViLLIs. 

ELI  [ELOI],  ELI  [ELOI],  etc.— See  Sevkn 
Words. 

ELIAKIM.— Two  ancestors  of  Jesus  bore  this 
name,  according  to  Mt  1"  and  Lk  3'". 

ELIEZER.— An  ancestor  of  Jesus,  Lk  3=^ 

ELIJAH  (AV  Elias)  is  mentioned  in  the  Gospels 
on  9  occasions,  reported  in  15  passages  (rejecting 
Lk  9").  Of  these  passages  only  one,  Lk  4^'-, 
alludes  to  the  story  of  Elijah  as  it  is  contained  in 
the  OT.  Here  Jesus  justifies  His  performance  of 
miracles  in  Capernaum,  while  refraining  from 
working  them  in  Nazareth,  by  citing  the  well- 
kno\vn  story  of  Elijah's  going  away  from  Israel  in 
time  of  famine  to  relieve  the  distress  of  a  Sidonian 
widow  (1  K  17*'  ").  All  the  other  passages  refer  to 
the  present  or  future  work  of  an  Elijah  who, 
according  to  common  Jewish  belief,  still  lived  and 
would  appear  again  upon  earth. 

The  dominant  note  in  the  belief  is  that  the  pro- 
phet was  to  appear  as  the  forerunner  of  the  Mes- 
siah. This  notion  appears  in  its  simplest  form  in 
the  accounts  of  the  avowal  of  the  Messiahship  of 
Jesus  at  CiBsarea  Philippi  (Mt  16"»-,  Mk  8-'^f-,  Lk 
gisff.)  fiig  answers  then  given  by  the  disciples  to 
Jesus'  question  as  to  the  popular  estimate  of  Him- 
self were  varied,  and  doubtless  representative : 
He  was  John  the  Baptist,  Elijah,  Jeremiah,  or  one 
of  the  prophets  (cf.  Mk  6'*,  Lk  9').  Only  one, 
Simon,  saw  in  the  work  of  Jesus  the  consumma- 
tion, rather  than  the  postponement,  of  their  Mes- 
sianic hope.  The  period  of  Elijah  the  forerunner 
is  past,  and  the  Messiah  is  here. 

The  relation  between  the  prophet  Elijah,  the 
lawgiver  Moses,  and  the  Messiah  Jesus,  is  dra- 
matically presented  in  the  narrative  of  the  Trans- 
figuration (Mt  17,  Mk  92f-,  Lk  Q"-'"'-)-  Here,  too, 
the  logical  proof  is  presented  that  Elijah  has  come 
already,  and  is  Joliu  the  Baptist.  When  once 
Jesus  has  been  accepted  as  the  Messiah,  the  work 
of  John  cannot  fail  to  be  known  as  the  great  pre- 
paratory work  of  Elijah.  This  work  finds  expres- 
sion in  St.  Matthew  s  report  of  Jesus'  character- 
ization of  John  (11";  omitted  from  the  parallel  in 
Lk.). 

The  Baptist's  denial  that  he  was  Elijah  (Jn 
1-'^-)  is  the  natural  expression  of  his  lofty  idea  of 
the  work  of  preparation  for  the  Messiah  contrasted 
with  the  insufficiency  of  the  work  he  had  actually 
been  able  to  perform.  The  passage  incidentally 
describes  one  of  the  functions  of  Elijah  who  was 
to  come,  viz.,  that  he  should  baptize.  Baptism 
was  then  one  of  the  preliminaries  of  the  salvation 
wliich  tlie  Messiah  was  to  bring. 

Elijah  is  mentioned  again  in  connexion  with  the 
Crucitixi.m  (Mt  27*'-«,  Mk  IS"-^*).  The  bystanders 
professedly  misunderstood  Jesus'  cry,  'Eli,  Eli,'  as 
a  call  to  Elijah.  They  proposed  to  wait  and  see  if 
he  would  come  down  to  help  Him.  Bearing  in 
mind  that  Elijah  is  the  forerunner  of  the  Messiah, 
their  curiosity  seems  not  simply  whether  Jesus 
would  have  supernatural  relief,  as  a  man  might, 
but  whether  Elijah  would,  by  coming  to  His  aid, 
prove  that  Jesus  was  after  all  the  Messiah. 

There  remains  the  striking  picture  of  theBaiitist 
in  the  character  of  Elijah,  drawn  in  Lk  I""'-.     The 


passage  clearly  assumes  the  developed  doctrine  of 
the  Messiahship  of  Jesus,  and  the  career  of  John 
the  Baptist  is  analyzed  from  this  point  of  view.  The 
high  spiritual  plane  of  the  identification  is  obvi- 
ous. John  comes  in  the  spirit  and  power  of  the 
great  prophet,  reconciling  lamilies,  reducing  the 
disobedient  to  obedience,  preparing  Israel  for  the 
coming  of  the  Messiah.  (Jnly  on  this  high  plane 
could  the  identification  be  successful.  The  work  of 
the  forerunner  here  finds  fullest  expression.  He 
not  simply  proclaims,  he  prepares.  This  is,  how- 
ever, the  implication  of  the  other  passages ;  other- 
wise the  suggested  identification  of  Jesus  with 
Elijah  would  not  have  been  possible,  for  it  was  the 
very  works  of  Jesus  that  called  out  the  suggestion. 
The  same  is  true  in  the  case  of  John. 

The  belief  in  the  reappearance  of  Elijah,  held  by 
the  Jews  of  NT  times,  is  a  later  stage  of  the  belief 
which  is  expressed  in  Mai  4^  [En^.]  :  he  would  come 
before  the  great  day  of  Jehovah  to  reconcile  the 


hearts  of  parents  and  children.  Sir  48""''-  describes 
the  same  work  more  elaborately,  and  forms  an 
early  interpretation  of  the  passage  in  Malachi. 

The  Rabbinical  writings  abound  in  expressions  of 
the  same  belief,  with  characteristic  extravagances 
and  specifications.  These  Jewish  traditions  know 
Elijah  as  zealous  in  the  service  of  God,  and  as  a 
helper  in  distress,  as  well  as  the  foremnner  of 
the  Messiah.  Naturally  his  work  is  in  behalf  of 
their  own  people,  and  is  performed  in  connexion 
with  their  own  institutions. 

As  the  Jews  elaborated  the  earlier  doctrine  of 
the  Messiah,  and  as  in  their  thought  He  became 
more  and  more  exalted  in  holiness  and  majesty, 
the  impossibility  of  His  appearance  in  the  midst  of 
all  the  sin  and  shame  of  Israel  was  increasingly 
felt ;  and  the  character  of  Elijah,  the  holy  prophet, 
zealous  in  his  earthly  life  for  the  political  and 
religious  integrity  of  the  nation,  and  already  en- 
shrined in  tradition  as  having  been  spared  death, 
was  a  fitting  one  to  be  chosen  to  carry  on  the 
great  work  of  preparing  Israel  for  the  blessings  of 
tlie  Messianic  era.  Indeed,  in  some  passages  the  doc- 
trine of  Elijah  has  developed  to  such  an  extent  as 
well  nigh  to  u.surp  the  functions  of  the  Messiah. 

LiiERATDRE.— Volz,  Judischs  Eschatotogie,  192  and  passim ; 
Jewish  Encyc.  s.r.;  Gfrorer,  Jahrhundert  des  Beits,  n.  227  f.; 
Bacher,  Agade  d.  Tannaiten,  passim;  Weber,  Altsyn,  pal. 
Theol.  337-339 ;  Schiirer,  GJV^  ii.  624  f. 

O.  H.  G.\TES. 

ELISABETH.— The  NT  notice  of  Elisabeth  is 
confined  to  the  Third  Gospel,  and  its  brief  record 
concerning  her  may  well  be  due  to  St.  Luke's 
acquaintance  with  Mary  the  mother  of  our  Lord. 
It  is  interesting  to  know  that  she  was  a  kinswoman 
{uvyyevU,  Lk  1^)  of  Mary,  though  it  is  unfortun- 
ately impossible  to  verify  the  exact  relationship 
that  e.xisted  between  them.  Elisabeth  is  describee, 
with  her  husband  Zacharias  (wh.  see),  as  a  faithful 
adherent  of  the  OT  type  of  religion— strict  and 
regular  in  observance  of  the  Law  (v.').  She  enjoyed 
the  double  distinction,  according  to  Jewish  thought, 
of  being  both  a  priest's  daughter  and  a  priest's 
wife  (v.°).  The  joy  of  such  a  twofold  honour  was, 
however,  diminished  by  the  fact  that  she  was 
barren  (v.'),  to  an  Oriental  woman  little  less  than 
a  calamity.  But  a  single  event  in  the  Gospel 
narrative  at  once  dispelled  her  sorrow  and  entitled 
her  to  a  place  of  honour  not  among  Jewish  women 
alone,  but  in  the  eyes  of  the  whole  world.  In  her 
old  age  (v.**)  she  "liecame  the  mother  of  John  the 
Baptist. 

Between  the  promise  and  tlie  birth  of  this  child 
she  was  visited  by  Mary  (v. 3"),  who  remained  with 
her  for  a  period  of  three  months  (v.*"),  and  to 
whom  she  was  made  a  proof  of  the  Almighty's 
power  (vv.'^-'*).  On  Mary's  appearance  she  re- 
ceived a  special   inspiration   of  the   Holy  Spirit, 


ELIRHA 


EMMAUS 


515 


which  even  enabled  her  to  recognize  in  her  kins- 
woman the  uiotlier  of  lier  'Lord'  (v. •""•)>  and  in 
Mary's  Child  a  fultilnient  of  the  promise  of  Jeliovah 
Himself  (v.").  Herein  she  unconsciously  illus- 
trated the  meaniug  of  her  own  name,  which  in  its 
Hebrew  form  signifies  '  God  is  an  oath.' 


On  the  theory  (upheld  by  Burkitt,  Harnack,  et  al.)  that  the 
Magnijicat  ought  to  be  attributed  to  Elisabeth  and  not  to 
Mary,  see  artt.  Birth  of  Christ,  p.  203i=  note,  and  Magnificat. 
H.    BiSSEKER. 

ELISHA  (AV  Eliseus).— The  famous  disciple, 
companion,  and  successor  of  Elijah.  In  NT  he  is 
only  once  referred  to,  viz.  in  Lk  4'-'.  Jesus,  preach- 
in"  in  the  synagogue  at  Nazareth,  reminds  His 
feflow-townsmen,  who  were  unwilling  to  receive 
His  teaching  because  He  was  one  of  themselves, 
that  Elisha,  who  was  an  Israelite,  healed  but  one 
leper,  and  he  was  a  Syrian.  He  leaves  them  to 
draw  the  obvious  inference  as  to  the  probable  con- 
sequence of  their  rejection  of  Him.  It  is  clear, 
however,  that  in  this  warning  our  Lord  was  look- 
ing far  beyond  Nazareth,  and  that  He  had  in  view 
the  casting  away  of  the  Jews  through  unbelief,  and 
the  call  of  the  Gentiles.      J.  Cromaety  SMITH. 

ELIUD.— An  ancestor  of  Jesus,  Mt  1'^'-. 

ELMADAM  (AV  Elmodam).  —  An  ancestor  of 
Jesus,  Lk  3^ ;  perh.  =  Heb.  Almodad  (cf.  Gn 
102«). 

EMMANUEL.— See  Immanuel. 

EMMAUS  {'Eiifj.a.oiis). — The  question  of  Emmaus 
would  seem  at  first  sight  to  be  simple,  and  the  iden- 
tification of  this  place  easy.  Indeed,  Emmaus  not 
being  mentioned  more  than  once  in  the  Gospels, 
there  are  no  difi'erent  texts  to  be  harmonized.  We 
read  in  Lk  24'^  that  Emmaus  was  a  village  60 
furlongs  from  Jerusalem,  and  that  after  having 
arrived  there  at  the  close  of  the  day,  and  having 
sat  with  Jesus  at  a  meal,  the  two  disciples  were 
able  to  return  the  same  evening  to  Jerusalem  and 
there  find  the  Ai^ostles  still  assembled  together. 
The  only  parallel  passage  in  Mk.  (16'^),  part  of 
the  unauthentic  close  of  the  Second  Gospel,  does 
not  mention  the  name  of  the  locality,  and  speaks 
only  of  an  appearance  to  two  disciples  'as  they 
walked  on  their  way  into  the  country'  (Suirti/  .  .  . 
TrepLTraTovffLV  .  .  .  iropevofiivois  els  dyp6v).  On  the 
other  hand,  Josephus  says  (BJ  VII.  vi.  6)  that 
Vespasian  established  a  colony  of  800  Roman 
veterans  on  the  lands  which  he  gave  them  at  a 
distance  of  60  [v.l.  30)  furlongs  from  Jerusalem,  at 
a  place  called  Emmaus.  Now,  there  still  aotuaUv 
exists  to  the  west  of  Jerusalem,  on  the  road  which 
leads  to  Jaffa,  a  place  named  Kolonieh.  It  is  true 
that  the  distance  is  less  than  60  furlongs  :  authors 
estimate  it  sometimes  at  45,  but  more  frequently 
at  only  35,  furlongs.  It  might  be  held,  however, 
that  the  teiTitory  of  the  colony  extended  over  an 
area  of  several  miles,  and  that  it  might,  according 
to  circumstances,  be  thus  considered  as  being  distant 
either  30  or  60  furlongs  from  the  capital.  Under 
these  conditions  nothing  would  seem  to  oppose  our 
placing,  on  the  grounds  indicated  above,  the  Em- 
maus of  St.  Luke,  identified  with  that  of  Josephus, 
at  Kolonieh. 

It  must,  however,  be  remarked  that  the  different 
reading  noted  in  the  passage  fiom  Josephus  (60  or 
30)  creates  some  uncertainty.  It  must  also 
noted  that,  according  to  some  authors,  the  name 
Kolonieh  is  not  to  t)e  explained  by  the  Latin 
rolonia  at  all,  but  by  the  name  Kiilon  (KovKdi/). 
mentioned  in  Jos  15'"  (LXX)  as  that  of  a  town  of 
Judah  situated  in  the  hill  country.  These  diffi 
culties,  however,  would  not  be  altogether  insur 
mountable  if  they  were  the  only  ones ;  a  further 


and  graver  complication  i 

facts. 


from  the  following 


vanquished  Gorgias  there  in  B.C.  166- 
340. 5^  43-25 .   cf    Jog_  ^„^_  XII.  vii.  4) ; 


In  1  Mac.  an  Emmaus  is  spoken  of  more  than 
once  as  the  scene  of  various  occurrences :   Judas 
Maccab? 
167  (1  Mac 

and  in  B.C.  160  Bacchides  fortified  it  and  placed 
garrison  in  it  (1  Mac  9™'-  ;  cf.  Jos.  Ant.  XIII.  i.  3). 
The  position  of  this  place  is  easy  to  determine  ;  it 
must  have  been  situated  between  Jerusalem  and 
Jaffa,  nearer  the  latter,  at  the  spot  where  the 
lopes  of  the  mountainous  region  descend  towards 
the  great  maritime  plain.  In  this  quarter,  indeed, 
found  a  site  which  has  left  important  ruins,  and 
hich  is  mentioned  several  times  in  the  course  of 
the  first  centuries  of  the  Christian  era  under  the 
name  Emmaus.  From  the  3rd  cent,  onwards  it 
was  called  Nicopolis,  without  the  remembrance  of 
the  ancient  Semitic  name  being  lost ;  and,  as  is  the 
case  with  most  of  those  places  with  two  names, 
under  the  Arab  domination  it  resumed  its  earlier 
name  and  was  called  'Anuvdi,  the  appellation  it 
bears.  Now,  from  the  earliest  times  of  ecclesi- 
astical history,  the  opinion  gained  ground  that 
this  Emmaus-Nicopolis  was  the  Emmaus  of  St. 
Luke.  Eusebius,  no  doubt  reflecting  the  views  of 
Origen,  and  after  him  Jerome,  maintained  this 
identity  {OS-  257.  21,  121.  6) ;  and  after  them  this 
view  or  the  case  held  sway  for  a  long  time  in  the 
Church.  If  it  is  asked  how  this  conclusion  could 
be  formed,  seeing  that  Emmaus-Nicopolis  is  situ- 
ated at  a  distance  from  Jerusalem  which  is  esti- 
mated (according  to  the  particular  route  adopted) 
at  180,  175,  170,  or  166  furlongs,  almost  thrice  the 
60  furlongs  mentioned  above,  the  reply  is  promptly 
given  :  N  and  some  other  MSS  read  '  160  '  instead 
of  '60.'  The  tendency  to  identify  Emmaus-Nico- 
polis and  the  Emmaus  of  St.  Luke  became  so 
strong,  so  irresistible,  that  it  led  to  a  curious 
result :  in  the  Middle  Ages,  at  the  time  of  the 
Crusaders  and  afterwards,  the  memory  of  Emmaus- 
Nicopolis  having  been  lost,  the  Emmaus  of  St. 
Luke  was  looked  for  nearer  Jerusalem,  and  when 
it  was  believed  that  it  had  been  found,  not  only 
tlie  name  of  Emmaus,  but  also  that  of  Nicopolis, 
was  given  to  it. 

From  the  13th  cent.  (1280)  or  perhaps  from  the 
last  years  of  the  11th  (1099,  see  ZDPV  xvi.  p.  300), 
a  tradition  arose  which  for  more  clearness  may  be 
called  the  Franciscan  tradition,  and  which  places 
the  Emmaus  of  St.  Luke  at  el-Kuhelbeh,  to  the  N.W. 
of  Kolonieh,  at  some  distance  to  the  north  of  the 
roatl  from  Jerusalem  to  Jafta,  and  about  60  (more 
exactly  62-64)  furlongs  from  the  capital.  Still, 
indeed,  all  the  eftbrts  of  the  champions  of  the 
Franciscan  theory  are  directed  towards  establish- 
ing that  the  Emmaus  of  the  Evangelist  is  el- 
Kubeibeh.  Interesting  ruins  have  been  discovered 
there :  those  of  a  church  dating  from  the  time  of 
the  Crusades,  and  in  the  interior  of  its  enceinte  the 
remains  of  a  more  ancient  structure,  which  might 
be  those  of  a  Byzantine  church,  but  which  the 
defenders  of  the  Franciscan  tradition  consider  to 
be  the  very  house  of  Cleopas,  around  which  the 
sanctuary  had  been  built. 

The  first  question  to  clear  up  is  that  of  the  text. 
Now  several  authors,  and  in  particular  P.  La- 
grange (Rev.  Bibl.  1896,  pp.  87-92),  have,  in  the 
opinion  of  the  present  writer,  shown  irrefutably 
that  the  original  reading  must  have  been  '  60  fur- 
longs,' and  that '  160'  is  a  correction  meant  to  enable 
the  Emmaus  of  St.  Luke  to  be  identified  with  that 
of  1  Maccabees.  'The  160  furlongs,'  Lagrange 
concludes  admirably  (p.  89),  '  represent  neither  the 
ancient  tr;iili( ion,  nor  tlie  universal  tradition,  nor 
thi-  ii.icMusriijn^  ii:iiliti(m.  This  reading  is  a 
critiiiil  uiii'.  ii]i|Hi>'-.l  by  the  authority  of  a  master, 
very  piob:iblj   Origcii,'  and  collides  almost  every- 


*1G 


EMMAUS 


ENDURANCE 


\\heie  with  the  fiimlj'  assured  tradition  of  tlie 
Churches.  To  judge  from  the  manuscripts,  tlie 
iiuestiou  is  settled  :  we  must  read  "  60  furlonjis."  ' 

AVe  must  remark,  furtlier,  that  Emmaus^ico- 
polis  was  a  town  before  the  Christian  era  and 
long  beyond  (iroXis,  Jos.  BJ  II.  xx.  4),  whereas 
the  Evangelist  speaks  of  a  village  (Kii/jirj).  Even 
after  Euunaus-Nieopolis  had  been  destroyed  by  the 
Boman  soldiers  of  varus  (A.D.  4),  it  was  not  on 
that  account  a  village ;  a  ruined  town  is  not  a 
village.  It  was  even  the  chief  town  of  a  toparchy 
(Jos.  BJ  III.  iii.  5 ;  Plin.  HN  v.  14).  The  remains 
of  a  church  have  been  found  there,  which  date  not 
merely  from  the  Crusades,  but  very  probably  from 
the  Byzantine  epoch ;  it  is  in  vain  that  a  recent 
author  (Barnabe),  who  favours  el-Kubeibeh,  has 
tried  to  prove  that  this  church  was  really  nothing 
but  a  hot-baths  establishment.  But  it  is  also  vain 
to  seek  to  infer  from  the  presence  of  a  church, 
even  an  ancient  one,  that  we  have  to  do  with  tlie 
Emmaus  of  St.  Luke. 

Another  very  strong  argument  against  Emmaus- 
Nicopolis  is  its  excessive  distance.  It  is  worth 
noting  what  efforts  its  partisans  make  to  show  that 
the  two  disciples  could  have  returned  the  same 
evening  to  Jerusalem,  walking  for  this  purpose  five 
or  six  hours.  One  of  the  most  convinced  defenders 
of  this  theoiy,  Schifi'ers,  does  not  hesitate  to  affirm 
that  they  could  have  set  out  again  from  Emmaus 
as  early  as  3  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  and  arrived  at 
Jerusalem  at  9  o'clock  {Rev.  Blhl.  1894,  pp.  26--10 ; 
see  also  his  book  Ariurax,  di)x  Emmaus  des  lieil. 
Ltikas,  1890).  In  that  case  it  nm>t  be  held  that  the 
word.s  'it  is  toward  evening,  ami  the  day  is  now  far 
spent'  (Lk  24^),  may  have  been  spoken  immedi- 
ately after  noon. 

The  failure  of  the  identification  of  Emmaus- 
Nicopolis  with  the  Emmaus  of  St.  Luke  proves 
nothing  in  favour  of  el-^ubcibeh,  which  can  pro- 
duce only  a  late  tradition  in  it«  favour.  The  argu- 
ment which  it  has  been  sought  to  draw  from  the 
name  el-Kubeibch  as  an  alleged  corruption  of  Nico- 
polis  (!)  refutes  itself.  But  the  probabilities  indi- 
cated at  the  opening  of  this  article  in  favour  of 
^olonieh  are  greatly  weakened  by  the  undisputed 
fact  that  the  ecclesiastical  tradition  of  the  first 
centuries  pronounces  in  favour  of  "Amwas-Nico- 
polis ;  this  fact  proves  that  all  recollection  of  an 
Emmaus  situatecl  nearer  to  Jerusalem  had  become 
effaced  in  the  3rd  centmy.  Under  these  circum- 
stances the  most  elementary  duty  is  to  declare  the 
problem  unsolved,  and  incapable  of  solution  under 
the  present  conditions  and  with  the  data  which  we 
possess. 

Nor  does  the  etymology  of  the  name  furnish 
any  precise  indication.  We  do  not  know  to  what 
Hebrew  or  Aramaic  term  Emmaus  [we  find  also  the 
forms  Ammaics,  Ammaum,  Emmaum;  'A/i/iaovs, 
'AfifiaoiJii,  'E/i/Movti]  corresponds.  A  vain  attempt 
has  been  made  to  connect  it  with  the  root  hamam, 
and  to  prove  thereby  that  baths  existed  at  this 
spot.  An  argument  in  favour  of  this  has  been 
based  on  the  fact  that  the  baths  situated  near 
Tiberias  were  called  by  the  same  name  (cf.  Jos 
19^  Jlammath),  but  it  is  now  known  that  the 
correct  reading  is  Amnutthus  {' A/ifmeovs ;  cf.  ZDPV 
xiii.  pp.  194-198).  It  is  on  the  frail  basis  of  this 
hypothetical  derivation  that  Mrs.  Finn  grounds 
her  theory  that  Emmaus  =  Urtas,  to  the  south  of 
Bethlehem,  near  Solomon's  Pools,  60  furlongs  from 
Jerusalem  (see  PEFSt,  1883,  pp.  53-64).  It  is 
by  an  eq^ually  dubious  etymological  process  that 
Colonel  Conder  has  been  led  to  seek  for  Emmaus 
in  K/utDiasa,  to  the  S.W.  of  Jerusalem,  at  a  dis- 
tance, moreover,  not  of  60,  but  of  80-90  furlongs. 
We  may  also  note  the  attempt  to  place  the  Em- 
maus of  St.  Luke  at  Abu-Ghosh  (^iriet-el-'Enftb). 
FiOMi  the  point  of  view  of  distance  this  wouM  be 


sufficiently  exact,  but  there  is  nothing  to  lead  us 
to  conclude  in  favour  of  this  particular  spot  rather 
than  any  other  within  the  same  circuit. 

Lastly,  we  recall  the  fact  that  the  Talmud 
speaks  of  Kolonich  as  being  also  called  Mosa  or 
bam-Mosa,  a  name  which  we  may  connect  with 
the  n>--n  of  Jos  18=«  (LXX :  'A/xwcrti,  but  also 
'AiMWKii].  Near  Kolonich  there  exists  to-day  a  place 
called  Beit-Mizzeh,  which  recalls  Mosa. 

LlTERATrnE.— P£F5(,  1874,  pp.  149,  160,  162-104,  1876,  pp. 
172-175, 1879,  PP-  105-107,  ISSl,  pp.  46,  237  f.,  274,  1882,  pp.  24-37, 
1S83,  pp.  :•■'-'•*.  1»*4.  ri'    "-"-^^    1"^,  pp.  11«-1-'!,  1^^;,  •■   17, 

1901,  pp.    li.,".    n,7.  -hi;    I-I-:I'\I.u ,.,,;,.  m;    U,  1,;h,.  :  //i/t 

xiii.  194-l:i-.  1'  \  W        .  .   1, 

14 1.;  l!fr_  L  ■.,;■■■  •  -  '   .  w- 


L,  -ii  ,  Lui.l,  i.r,4  /*  150;  Conder, 

1,   Waiideraiujeii'^,  161-169;  he 

-194,  204-207;  Sanda.v,  Sacred 

neuteet.  JEmmaus,  1865 ;  Guille- 

r.uselU,  L'EviiiMus  evaiif/dicu, 

■--■■<  'Irlla   l;<lrst!na,    1SS9, 

■;.  '-.      I. ,.'.■.,».,?„>■  Eimnmix  ilex 

-.  ^i>t  11.1,1  w^Lsesnicht 

1     ,       /'-  ux  '/ihsiivit.-^  d'archeo- 

:   ,    /'..    Eunnaus-Fraae,  1905; 

d  Li'kas,  l;)u.^,  p.  623 f.  ;  see  also 

le  Coimu.  on  St.  Luke,  ad  loc., 

LUCIEN  Gautier. 

ENDURANCE.— The  active  qualities  of  persever- 
ance and  persistence,  never  absent  from  the  biblical 
notion  of  endurance,  form,  in  effect,  the  substance 
of  the  art.  Activity,  and  need  not  be  considered 
here.  The  passive  aspect  suggests  an  inquiry  as 
to — 

1.  The  causes  of  those  trials  which  Christ  had 
to  endure. — Of  (a)  supernatural  causes  (1)  the  first, 
an  all-inclusive  cause,  was  the  Divine  will  ( Jn  10'*), 
recorded  beforehand  in  OT  Scriptures  (Mt  26^',  Mk 
14-1,  Lk  22"  24=5'-),  and  referred  to  constantly  by 
Christ  in  words  of  resignation  (Mt  26*=,  Lk  10=i), 
often  under  the  figure  of  a  'cup'  (Mt  20-  26»>,  Jn 
18").  (2)  A  second  supernatural  cause  (under 
Divine  permission)  appears  in  the  agency  of  Satan, 
acting  both  directly,  in  temptation  and  opposition 
(Mt  43a-  13=9,  Lk  10'8),  and  also  oftener  indirectly, 
through  the  weakness  (Mt  16^,  Lk  22^')  and  wicked- 
ness (Lk  22==^  Jn  6™  8"  13=)  of  men.  These  two 
causes,  whether  expressly  referred  to  or  not,  are 
undoubtedly  to  be  regarded  as  factors  never  absent 
(see  Jn  19"  and  also  12='  14^  16",  where  the  title 
'prince  of  this  world'  is  significant  in  this  con- 
nexion). 

(b)  Internal  causes  (supernatural  also,  in  a 
different  sense)  were  not  wanting.  (1)  The  pro- 
phetic mission  of  Christ  (Jn  12"^  18^')  made  suffering 
and  death  morally  inevitable  at  the  hand  of  man 
(Lk  4^  11«'-  13*"-,  Jn  7'),  light  and  darkness  being 
essentially  opposed  (Jn  3'"';  of.,  for  illustration,  a 
remarkable  passage  in  Plato,  Eep.  vii.  517  B,  where 
a  similar  inevitability  is  declared  even  in  the  case 
of  Socrates).  (2)  The  revelation  of  His  Divine 
nature,  implied  in  His  relationship  to  the  Father's 
Being  (Jn  5'*  8^  lO**"-)  and  prero.'atives  (Mt  9^  Lk 
7-'8f-)  was  bound  to  provoke  deadly  hostility  in  un- 
believing Jews  (Mt  26",  Jn  19').  It  is  at  the  same 
time  clear,  from  Christ's  anxiety  to  avoid  publicity 
(Mt  12'«,  Mk  7*^  8-s  etc.)  and  needless  offence  (Mt 
17-'),  that  persecution  and  death  were  not  courted 
by  Him. 

(c)  The  external  causes  were  more  complex. 
(1)  Many  trials  arose  from  the  imperfections  of 
His  disciples  ;  their  dulness  (Mk  8'="^  9^=,  Lk  24=»), 
spiritual  powerlessness  (Mt  17"^'-),  false  zeal  (Mt 
IS'^  16^,  Mk  ff«,  Lk  9»'),  mistaken  aims  (Mk  9* 
1035ff-,  Lk  22=*),  and  discreditable  falls  (Mt  26=«,  Mk 
U™"-,  Lk  22-"').     But  (2)  most  arose  from  Christ's 


ENDUEANCE 


ENEMIES 


517 


rejection  by  '  His  own  '  (Jn  1",  Mt  23=",  Mk  12«"-, 
Jn  5"  19'^)  from  motives  (whieli  He  well  perceived, 
Mt  9^  12-•^  Mk  9-°'-,  Lk  &,  Jn  2-'')  of  fear  (Mt  8", 
Jn  12«'-  19'-),  policy  (Jn  11*'-,  I\Ik  15"*),  gain  (Mt 
26'";  Mk  10'--',  Lk  16"),  envy  (Mt  2P»  27'»,  Jnl2'»), 
and  hate  (Lk  19''',  Jn  7'  lo'"---') ;  a  rejection  char- 
acterized in  its  display  by  indifference  (Lk  M'""-), 
ingratitnde  (Lk  17'"-,  Jn  5'^),  contradiction  (Jn  8"), 
insult  (Mt  10-"  12-^  Mk  15-'-,  Lk  7**  22«=  23",  Jn  8« 
S'--'),  treachery  (Lk  1P=  20-"  22«),  injustice  (Mk 
14»'-,  Jn  ig-"-"'"-"'),  violence  (Lk  4=«-,  Jn  8=9  W), 
brutality  (Lk  22«,  Jn  lO'-^  etc.),  and  death  (Jn  19'8). 
2.  Home  features  oi  Christ's  endurance  are  vitally 
connected  with  fundamental  doctrines  of  His  person 
and  work.  (1)  It  was  voluntary.  Of  this  the  em- 
phatic statement  in  Jn  10"'-  leaves  no  doubt.  Such 
an  utterance  may  be  hard  to  parallel,  but  pru- 
dence would  almost  make  it  so ;  and  the  expres- 
sions used  in  Lk  9=',  Jn  1^'-  8-'  13='  seem  to  speak 
of  a  course  equally  sjiontaneous ;  indeed,  in  one 
case  (8='^)  a  voluntary  {i.e.  a  suicide's)  death  is 
actually  suggested  as  their  meaning  !  (2)  It  was 
perfect,  [a]  tjnder  suffering :  for  His  spirit,  words, 
and  demeanour  were  admittedly  supreme  examples 
of  His  own  teaching,  e.g.  upon  submission  (Jn  18-='-, 
Mt  5="),  retaliation  (Lk'6==22='),  and  love  to  enemies 
(Mt  5*"-,  Lk  23=^).  (6)  Under  temptation  :  other- 
wise it  would  be  inexplicable  that  Christ  should 
have  urged  repentance  a-s  a  first  essential  for  otliers 
(Mt  4"  11™'-  21=«"-,  Lk  5=2  13=  15,  etc.),  whereas  He 
afforded  no  example  of  it  in  His  own  case.  On  the 
contrary,  He  laid  claim  to  sinlessness  both  nega- 
tively (Jn  14=")  and  positively  (8="),  as  unchallenge- 
able (8"*).  An  intuitive  perception  of  His  sinless- 
ness appears  in  the  self-abasing  awe  of  a  few  good 
men  (Mt  3'^,  Lk  5*)  more  convincingly  than  in  the 
ambiguous  testimony  of  many  other  observers  (Mt 
27'-;»,  Lk  23"",  Jn  19^  etc.).  (3)  It  was  human. 
Christ's  capability  of  human  .suffering  is  beyond 
(juestion.  No  mention,  indeed,  is  made  of  sickness 
in  the  ordinary  sense  ;  perhaps  it  is  excluded  ;  but 
all  other  bodily  needs  and  infirmities  were  shared 
by  Him  (Mt  4-  8-"-  -*  21'«,  Jn  4'"-  I9=»).  The  emo- 
tions of  His  mind  (Mk  3'  7=*  lO''',  Lk  19"',  Jn  11=^) 
and  spirit  (Lk  10",  Jr.  11==  13'-')  were  evident  from 
their  outward  traces,  as  well  as  from  His  own 
statements  (Mt  15*=,  Lk  22'»,  Jn  11'").  On  two 
occasions  He  referred  to  those  of  His  soul  (Jn  12-', 
Mk  14^*).  That  this  cajjability  of  suffering  was 
not  counteracted  by  the  exercise  of  miraculous 
[Hjwer  is  proved  by  Iflis  reference  to  His  '  tempta- 
tions '  (Lk  22^),  by  His  prediction  of  sufferings  on 
the  part  of  His  disciples  similar  generally  to  His 
own  (Mk  10=«'-),  by  the  shrinking  of  His  human 
will  (Mt  26="- «,  Lk  12™,  Jn  12"),  by  His  refusal  to 
allay  His  own  liunger  miraculously  (Mt  4='-),  or  to 
lessen  His  torments  even  by  ordinary  means  (Mk 
IS'"),  by  His  craving  for  the  .support  of  human 
sympatliv  (Mk  l4-«"-).  and  liy  His  reliance  above 
all  els..  ii|H.ii  til..  Fnthpr's  |.rrsenrc  (.In  H-'  1(5==)  and 
the  spiiiin.-il  Mipp.nt  iif  pruyrr  (Lk  li"-^  (jih. -h  , p  22-" 
etc.).  A~iii:iii  II. ■nut  tciii].(:itiiin(Mt  4<),iindover- 
cainc  l.y  laitli  i-...  .In  ll-"'-,  Mt  -Jl''-.  and  also  the 
import.inl  .Npn'ssi,],,  ■  ,„y  C.,,!,    M  t  ■27'"',  Jn  20"). 

Ill  s.iini'  r. •^]l(■l•t^,  |jii«..'\ .  1.  I  !i-  .ii.liir.uice  differed 
essciiti;ill\  fi. 11)1  that  .if  b.'li..\-.T-,  (1)  It  was  free 
from  the  lull. Ml. lit  fcndenci.-s  .il  a  sinful  nature 
(.In  14'")  .111.1  fiiiiu  the  enslavinj;  intliR'nce  of  sins 
ciiiiiiiiittiMl  (s''-'  '■).  (2)  It  contained  the  additional 
elements  of  ]iresfience  and  perfect  consciousness. 
Predictions  of  suffering  are  numerous  and  detailed 
(Mt  17^«-  20i»'-  26^  Mk  14'8-=",  Lk  ff-'--**  12™  13=, 
1725  22=7  etc.).  The  knowledge  (Jn  18*)  whereby 
He  '.saw'  and  'tasted'  de.ath  (Jn  8'*"-  10'=)  was 
complete.  (?,)  .M..im-  nil,  tli._-  relation  between  the 
Passion  of  Cliiist  .111. 1  tli.-  sin  of  tlie  world  (Jn  l^*), 
symbolized  In  tin-  -ii].iiii;aur,al  darkness,  laid  on 
Him  that  infinite  w.ie.  aliiiuNt  amounting  to  despair 


(Mk  15"''-),  tlie  prospect  of  which  was  undoubtedly 
the  main  factor  in  the  Agony  and  other  fore- 
bodings. 

3.  There  remain  to  be  considered  the  2"trposcs 
for  the  attainment  of  which  Christ's  endurance 
was  a  necessity  (Lk  24=^).  In  the  trials  and  tempta- 
tions of  (a)  Bis  life,  two  such  purposes  are  prom- 
inently visible  :  (1)  the  fulfilment  of  all  righteous- 
ness (Mt  3""  5"),  described  as  a  progressive  course 
through  service  and  suffering  (Lk  22="-,  Jn  13"  19="), 
in  which  Christ  met  continually  the  Father's  ap- 
proval (Lk  2^"-  5-,  iMt  3"  17^  Jn  12=«),  being  declared 
to  be  the  '  Son  of  God '  ideally  as  well  as  actually. 
(2)  The  acquirement  of  .sympathy  ;  through  experi- 
mental acquaintance  with  the  weakness  of  the  flesh 
(Jn  l'-",  Mt  26").  Numerous  instances  might  be 
given  of  the  sympathy  of  Christ  with  human  nature 
in  its  aspirations  (Mk  10"- =8^-,  Jn  21"),  weakness 
(Mt  12'="-),  weariness  (Mt  11=8,  Mk  6='),  misery  (Mt 
8=),  and  shame  (Mt  ll'^,  Lk  15"-).  To  Him,  there- 
fore, as  'Son  of  Man,'  ideally  as  well  as  actually, 
is  given  authority  to  exercise  pardon  (Mk  2'"), 
legislation  (2=*),  and  judgment  (Jn  5=').  Lastly, 
the  great  purpose  which  involved  the  endurance  of 
(b)  His  death  is  in  the  main  so  clear  as  to  leave  no 
room  for  doubt.  It  may  be  summed  up  in  the 
words  'forgiveness'  (Mt  26=*),  'redemption'  (Mk 
10*=),  and  'removal  of  sin'  (Jn  1=");  to  which,  in 
Jn  ll^""^-,  is  added  the  gathering  of  all  the  children 
of  God  into  one  in  Christ  (cf.  IT'"'"^-),  benefits  poten- 
tially world-wide  (Jn  l-"-'  6='),  but  limited,  in  their 
highest  realization,  to  believers  (Jn  3'*'''-).  It  need 
be  no  cause  of  surprise  that  these  purposes  are  not 
more  frequently  enlarged  upon  in  the  Gospels,  for 
they  were  incomprehensible  to  the  disciples  (and 
are  remarked  as  such,  Mt  16=^  Lk  9*=  18=*,  Jn  13') 
until  after  the  Cnicifixion  had  taken  place. 

4.  It  may  be  added  that  Christ  warned  His  dis- 
ciples in  all  ages  to  expect  trials  comparable  in 
some  measure  to  His  own  (Mt5"'-  10='"-,  Jn  15""'-), 
and  accompanied  in  many  cases  by  decline  and 
apostasy  (Mt  24'=- •'Sff-).  Hence  He  marked  endur- 
ance as  a  continual  test  of  genuineness  (Lk  8'=-  '=) 
and  an  indispensable  requisite  for  final  salvation 
(Mt  24'=).  At  the  same  time  He  declared  a  com- 
plementaiy  truth,  namely,  the  Divine  preservation 
of  His  'own  sheep'  (Jn  10=8'-  17'=  18»,  Mk  13=),  a 
privilege  commonly  described  as  the  'perseverance 
of  the'elect.'  However  stated,  the  antithesis  of 
tliese  two  truths  is  plain.  The  assurance  in  Jn 
10=^'-  is  largely  parallel  to  that  in  Mt  16",  except 
that  the  latter,  the  indestructibility  of  the  Church, 
is  more  clearly  collective  in  form.  There  are 
'  branches '  (so  it  appears,  Jn  15=)  even  '  in  Christ ' 
that  the  Father  takes  away ;  moreover,  the  re- 
markable use  of  the  imperative  in  15*  suggests  an 
element  of  conditionality  in  the  abiding  or  perse- 
verance referred  to.  The  practical  inference  is 
intended  to  lie  in  a  direction  quite  the  opposite  of 
false  .security  and  presumption  (Mt  7="-,  Lk  13=*"^- 
2i34ff.  22==f-).  'Perseverance  is  undoubtedly  the 
privilege  of  the  elect,  but  there  is  no  infallible  sign 
of  the  elect  except  their  perseverance'  (Vaughan 
on  Ph  1").  F.  S.  RaNKEN. 

ENEMIES  (.fx^P"*')— !•  Of  public  enemies :  twice 
in  the  Bcncdiifns,  Lk  I"-'*,  where  the  word  implies 
Gentile  persecutors.  In  Lk  19*=  it  is  spoken  of  the 
Romans  and  their  threatened  siege  of  Jerusalem. 
In  the  quotation  from  Ps  110'  which  occurs  in  Mt 
22**,  Mk  12='',  Lk  20*=,  He  1'=  10'=,  the  same  word  de- 
notes all  the  world  forces  opposing  Christ.  2.  Of 
private  enemies,  in  the  correction  of  the  old  maxim 
enjoining  hatred,  '  Love  your  enemies,'  Mt  5*=-  **, 
Lk  6='- =5.  3.  Of  the  devil  and  the  powers  of  evil, 
in  the  parable  of  the  Wheat  and  the  Tares,  Mt 
]32s.3o_  4,  Of  the  spiritual  forces  acting  in  opposi- 
tion to  Christ,  of  which  the  strongest  is  death, 


518 


ENERGY 


ENTHUSIAS:\r 


1  Co  15^-  ^.  5.  Of  -tticked  persons  hindering  the 
sjffead  of  Christ's  influence,  the  enemies  of  the 
cross,  Ph  3'».  The  word  used  in  NT  for  enemies 
is  usuallj'  applied  elsewhere  to  private  or  personal 
enemies,  not  to  public  foes.  See,  further,  artt. 
Forgiveness,  Hatred,  Love. 

C.  H.  Prichaed. 

ENERGY Tlie  Gr.  iripyua  (tr. '  working ')  is  used 

only  of  supernatural  spiritual  working,  and  only 
in  the  Epistles ;  in  Eph.  and  Col.  of  God,  in  Ph  3-' 
of  the  exalted  Christ,  in  2Th  2»  of  Satan.  In  Eph 
1'^  we  find  in  one  .sentence  four  terms  expressive 
of  power — evipycia,  Kpdros,  i<rx.vs,  and  Swo^us.  These 
Divine  qualities  were  exercised  in  the  resurrection 
and  exaltation  of  Christ,  and  the  Christian  soldier 
is  exhorted  (Eph  6")  to  obtain  a  portion  of  them 
in  equipment  for  his  spiiitual  warfare.  Of  these 
terms  the  chief  is  Bivafu!,  'power,'  of  whidi  the 
application  is  manifold.  On  three  occasions  (Lk 
51,  619  §«  or  jik  gso)  it  is  specially  used  of  a  healing 
power  (AV  '  virtue ')  that  issued  or  was  drawn  from 
Jesus  as  from  a  storehouse  of  spiritual  energj'.  See 
artt.  Force,  Power,  and  Virtue. 

1. '  Euergj' '  in  the  physical  sense  means  power  or 
capacity  of  work.  It  includes  tlie  active  and  the 
potential  side,  force  of  motion  and  energy  of 
position  :  two  interchanging  factors  of  which  the 
sum  total  is  constant.  In  its  moral  application 
there  is  a  similar  duality.  The  man  of  energy  is 
not  only  an  active  agent,  but  also  one  in  wliom 
Ave  recognize  a  reserve  of  power.  This  energy  of 
character  is  partly  physical,  partly  mental.  It  is 
altogether  different  from  the  purely  physical  quality 
of  strength  or  might  (/cpdros,  iVxi''?),  "the  virtue  of 
the  warrior  or  athlete.  A  physical  basis  is  neces- 
.sary,  yet  daimtless  energ)-  may  be  found  in  a 
feeble  frame.  The  quality  is  essentially  moral, 
tecause  it  involves  tlie  constant  exercise  of  a 
powerful  will.  The  fundament^il  requirement  is 
unhindered  mental  force.  Two  modem  statesmen 
may  lie  instanced.  One  wrote  in  liis  diary  the 
cardinal  principles  of  his  life — benevolence,  self- 
sacriiice,  purity,  energy.  Another  expounds  and 
exliibits  the  'strenuous  life.'  Tlie  duty  of  work 
and  the  heroism  of  energy  constitute  a  large  part 
of  the  teaching  of  Carlyle.  Such  lessons  and  lives 
are  illustrations  of  the  spirit  of  Christianity.  On  the 
other  hand,  indolence  and  idleness  are  natural  to 
many  men  and  even  to  many  nations.  The  habit 
of  inactivity  is  fostered  by  mental  indifference  or 
the  lack  of  any  propelling  emotion  such  as  religion 
or  patriotism.  The  dutv  and  honour  of  work  are 
Christian  conceptions.  In  2  Tli  3'""  we  have  an 
early  indication  of  a  long  struggle,  in  the  course 
of  which  sloth  was  enthroned  as  one  of  the  seven 
mortal  sins.  (Cf.  Paget,  l^pirif  of  Ditcipline,  pp. 
1-.tO). 

2.  The  life  of  our  Lord  Himself  funii-lip-;  tbo 
supreme  type  of  Clrristian  energy.  l^n.uv  i~ 
measured  by  the  amount  of  work  it  (an  :h  r,Mii]  li-li 
within  a  given  time.  The  ministry  d  .1.  ~n-  wa- 
limited  to  a  very  brief  period,  but  into  that  little 
.space  there  was  crowded  a  work  that  ha.s  no 
parallel  in  the  historj-  of  the  world.  Energy  is 
also  measured  liy  the  vastiiess  and  continuaiice  of 
its  effects,  and  after  Tiiin-l.-i-ii  ii-nnirir-  iln-  .niicken- 
ing  influenie  oi  J. -u,  i-  .,|,.i.,iiM-  nn  !!,,■  \\-o\\<{ 
with  undiniiiii-hi'-l  ].,<\\i:r.  .Ii-n-  «a.  ur\,T  idle. 
For  Him  every  hnur  had  it-  aiijiointi',!  ia~k  (.In  2^). 
and  every  day  was  governed  by  a  steaily  and  strenu- 
ous purpose  (Jn  9*).  He  was  sometimes  wearj-  in 
His  toils  (Mt  8«,  Jn  4«),  yet  was  ever  ready  to 
meet  fresh  calls  upon  His  time  and  strength,  His 
pity  or  His  help.  The  rea-son  was  that  the  springs 
of  His  energy  never  ran  drj'.  It  is  riglit  to  say 
that  tlie  secret  of  Christ's  ener^fj'  lay  in  His 
Divinely  unconquerable  will,  but  it  is  none  the  less 
tnie  that  the  strength  of  His  spirit  wa.s  fed  by  His 


Such  sayings  passed 
13=),  and  the  life  of 


love  to  man  and  His  faith  in  ( lod.  His  boimdless 
love  and  compas-'^icm  for  liuniaii  beings  inspired 
Him  to  go  about  doing  good.  His  perfect  faith  in 
God  enabled  Him  to  feci,  as  no  other  on  earth  has 
ever  felt,  that  nothing  was  impossible  (Mt  17™). 
But  beneath  all  conscious  faith  and  love  there 
sprang  up  in  the  soul  of  Jesus  a  fountain  of  life 
and  power  tlirough  His  abiding  union  with  His 
Father.  '  lly  Father  worketh  liitherto,'  He  once 
said,  '  and  I  work '  (Jn  5").  '  He  went  about  doing 
good,'  St.  Peter  declared,  '  for  God  was  wth  him 
(Ac  10^). 

3.  The  teaching  of  Jesus  on  this  subject  may 
be  divided  into  two  parts.  (1)  He  enjoins  many 
qualities  that  contribute  to  the  life  of  strenuous- 
ness.  Such  are  diligence  (parables  of  Talents  and 
Pounds,  Mt  2o,  Lk  19),  readiness  (Lk  12*5),  use  of 
oijportimities  (Jn  9*),  watchhilness  (Mk  13*^),  per- 
severance and  importunity  of  prayer  (Lk  IP  18'), 
constancy  and  continuance  of  service  (Lk  12*=  17'"). 
Such  precepts  receive  double  force  from  tho  ex- 
ample of  His  life  of  unresting  labour  (Jn  5"  9*). 
In  St.  Paul  the  same  lessons  are  illustrated  and 
inculcated  (ICo  IS'"-^). — (2)  Faith  is  set  forth  as 
the  supreme  source  of  active  energj'.  Faith  re- 
ceives healin" ;  it  can  also  bestow  healing.  Before 
its  presence  toth  bodily  and  mental  diseases  dis- 
appear. Sayings  of  Jesus  to  this  effect  are  re- 
nitiiibered  as  maxims  and  metaphors.  '  All  things 
are  possiljle  to  him  that  lielieveth'  (Mk  92*11=-'). 
By  faith  mountains  disappear  and  trees  may  be 
uprooted  (Mk  11==,  Lk  11%     "     •  ■ 

into  ordinary  speech  (1  Co 
achievement  was  regarded  as  illustrative  of  the 
power  of  faith  (He  11).  The  fact  that  men  of 
faith  are  the  possessors  _  of  boundless  energy  is 
indeed  A\Tit  large  in  the  history  of  tlie  world.  But 
the  living  faith  enjoined  by  Jesus  and  practised  in 
the  planting  of  Christianity  procured  an  immediate 
possession  of  surprising  power.  Exorcists  and  ma- 
gicians were  abashed  ;  and  demonic  possession,  still 
a  i>lague  of  the  East,  disappeared  before  the  ad- 
van,  in;..:  stall. lai.ls  ..f  ilie  new  faith.  This  spiritual 
en.  i^\  .1.  ]i  lid.  .1  .Ml  iimii.'.liate  communication  with 
(;...i,  I'll..  It-i  ^^..l.i~  .attributed  to  Christ  are 
thcM. :  ■  ^\.  sh.all  1 ,..  .iM-  power  after  that  the  Holy 
Ghost  is  come  upon  you"  (Ac  l^). 

R.  Scott. 

ENOCH. — There  is  no  mention  of  the  patriarch 
Enoch  in  the  Gospels  except  as  a  link  in  our 
Lord's  genealogy,  Lk  S". 

ENOS.— An  ancestor  of  Jesu.s,  Lk  S^. 

ENROLMENT.— See  Ces.sus  and  Quiriniu.s. 

ENTHUSIASM.— jBj!</M<*Mit«re  means  etymologi- 
cally  a  Divinely  inspired  interest  or  zeal  (Gr.  eV- 
iimvid^u),  to  be  inspired  by  a  gotl,  from  cf  'in,'  and 
i>(6s  '  god ') ;  and  therefore  affords  an  appropriate 
modern  rendering  for  the  phrase  ri/eOfm  07101',  '  Holv 
Spirit,'  in  the  NT  (Lk  !"•  «•  ■"■  ^  4',  Ac  2*  4»-  "  6'-'» 
705  917  iiM  139.  see  Bartlet's  Acts,  p.  386).  The 
author  of  Ercc  Hmiiii  h.i-s  called  attention  to  the 
eiithiisiasm  Jesus  required  of,  and  inspired  in,  His 
disciples  (pp.  141,  152,  154,  iifth  edition).  His  own 
life  was  marked  by  enthusiasm,  intense  and  exalted 
emotions  in  regard  to  His  vocation.  As  a  youth 
He  was  rntliKsidstic  for  His  Father's  house  (Lk 
'_'■  :  .It  till  r.i|itisni  He  devoted  Himself  to  His 
(III:  I,      Mi  and  was  conscious  of  receiA-ing  the 

S|  :  .  ;iirit  of  zeal  and  power.     His  first 

ciiiii  1  i  III  '<•  li-c  the  new  energy  afforded  the 
occasiim  lur  llic  temptation  in  the  wilderness  (Mk 
1'=  'straightway  the  .S]iiril  drivetli  him  forth"). 
In  His  call  to'  His  disri|iles.  His  teaching  and 
healing,  Hi.s  journeyings  from  ])lace  to  place  in 
the  early  Gal'iUcan  ministry  (Mk  I"'  '^■■^■*'),  this 


ENTHUSIASM 


ENTRY  INTO  JERUSALEM       519 


mood  of  enthusiasm  is  dominant  (Lk  4').  Tlie 
same  impression  is  conveyed  in  St.  Jolin's  record  : 
His  answer  to  His  mother  in  Cana,  the  casting  out 
of  the  traders  from  the  temple,  the  challenjje  to 
the  priests,  the  confession  of  His  Messiahship  to 
the  woman  of  Samaria,  tlie  forgetfulness  of  the 
needs  of  the  body  in  His  absorption  in  His  work 
(2''-  "•  19  426-  32. 34)^  have  all  the  same  characteristic 
of  an  intense,  exalted  emotion.  His  mood  was 
mistaken  for  madness  by  His  relatives  (Mk  3='), 
and  His  answer  regarding  His  spiritual  relation- 
ships would  not  remove  their  doubt  (3''"  ^).  His 
demands  on  His  disciples  to  abandon  all,  and  to 
cleave  to  Him  (Lk  9»"-  ^-  14="),  and  the  Beatitudes 
He  pronounced  on  the  spiritually  aspiring,  and  on 
the  persecuted  (Mt  5"- '-),  spring  from  the  same 
inward  source.  He  was  deeply  moved  by  any 
evidence  of  faith  wliich  He  met  with  (Mt  8'"  15-', 
Lk  lO-i,  Mt  16",  Jn  12=^  Lk  23''2).  He  even  in- 
tensely desired  to  fulfil  His  vocation  in  His  death 
(Lk  12™).  The  Baptist  contrasted  his  own  baptism 
with  water  and  the  Messiah's  baptism  with  the 
Holy  Spirit  and  fire  (Mt  3").  His  words  have  been 
thus  interpreted  :  '  He  baptizes  with  water,  in  the 
running  stream  of  Jordan,  to  emblem  the  only 
way  of  escape,  amendment.  Messiah  will  baptize 
with  wind  and  fire,  sweeping  away  and  consuming 
the  impenitent,  leaving  behind  only  the  righteous ' 
(Bruce,  '  St.  Matthew '  in  Expositor's  Gr.  Test.  p. 
84).  When  Jesus  presented  the  same  contrast  in 
His  demand  to  Nicodemus  (Jn  3^),  it  is  not  probable 
that  He  referred  to  judgment,  but  to  the  inspira- 
tion which  He  brought  to  men  in  His  ministry, 
the  enthusiasm  for  God  and  His  kingdom  which  He 
imparted.  We  have  abundant  evidence  that  He  so 
inspired  men  in  Galilee  by  His  healing,  teaching, 
forgiveness  of  sins,  companionship  (Mk  !_-'•  5'  2}^-  "), 


mp; 
id  attracted  many   (Mk  3'  6' 
believed    Him    to  be   John   the   Baptist,   Elijah, 


«).     The  people 


Jeremiah,  or  one  of  the  prophets  (Mk  6",  Mt  16"). 
That  this  mood  was  temporary  Jesus  recognized 
in  the  parable  of  the  Sower  (Mk  4=- «).  The  flame 
blazed  up  again  for  a  moment  among  the  Galilrean 
pilgrims  at  the  triumphal  entry  (Mk  11*- '").  The 
early  ministry  in  Judoea  and  in  Samaria,  as  re- 
corded by  John,  made  the  same  impression  (Jn  2-^ 
326  439-j2)_  After  His  Resurrection  and  Ascension 
the  Christian  Church  received  at  Pentecost  the 
permanent  and  communicable  gift  of  holi/  enthusi- 
asm, {wi'evfj.a&yLot',  as  explained  above).* 

It  is  a^  difficult  problem  wliether  in  His  early  ministry  Jesus 
was  not  led  by  His  enthusiasm  to  show  less  reserve  in  the 
expression  of  Hia  claims  and  less  restraint  in  the  exercise  of 
His  powers  than  was  His  practice  afterwards,  when  He  had 
learned  from  experience  the  peril  this  course  involved  of  a 
premature  close  of  His  ministry.  The  solution  of  the  problem 
depends  on  the  answer  given  to  the  wider  question,  whether 
I  change  of  method,  due  to  the  teachint;  of  experience, 
'^'    '''    unerring  moral   insight  and 


•  In  this  view  of  the  meaning  of  Christian  enthusiasm,  as  a 
power  which  finds  its  true  source  in  the  indwelling  of  the  Holy 
Spirit,  we  get  an  interesting  glimpse  into  both  the  history  of 
language  and  the  philosophy  of  that  history,  from  the  disrepute 
which  attached  to  the  word  'enthusiasm'  during  the  age  of 
Rationalism  and  Deism.  Those  were  days  when  leaders  in  the 
Church  set  themselves  to  '  put  down  enthusiasm,'  and  Christian 
apologists  were  anxious  to  prove  that  neither  Jesus  Christ  nor  His 
Apostles  were  'enthusiasts.'  Hartley  defines  enthusiasm  as  'a 
mistaken  persuasion  in  any  person  that  In-  is  a  iK'iniliar  favourite 
with  f:nd;  and  that  he  receives  "sniicnntunl  nnrV^  Iherenf 
(Oh.ifrrolhiiit.  on  Man,  i.  49(1),  a  d.  Iimii  t,  hi  h  ,ii|imI\  .  or- 
respoiitls  to  the  conteniporarv  idi.i-  ■  i   i     i    J,   i;. 

Carpenter,  .7ro,ips  J/artj»ii;;t,'n. '1  1     I  ■    miIIhi-i- 

asiii  was  a  s.Mionym  for  fanatii-isiii      -n  ■  n \  m  sini])!\ 

a  fanatic.  And  the  constant  apph.  .li,..h  ..i  Uk  t.  rnis  to  tiie 
Evangelical  Revival  and  its  leaders  shons  that  this  ilebabing  of 
their  value  was  due  to  the  spiritual  deadness  of  the  critics 
rather  than  to  the  extravagances  of  the  enthusiasts.  Similarly, 
the  .lewish  leaders  said  of  Jesus,  '  He  hath  a  devil,  and  is  mad' 
( Jn  1020) ;  Fcstus  said  to  Paul, ' Thou  art  beside  thyself '  (Ac  262-1) ; 
and  some  of  the  people  of  Jerusalem,  when  they  witnessed  the 
charismatic  gifts  bestowed  upon  Christ's  followers  on  the  Day 
of  Pentecost,  exclaimed,  'These  men  are  full  of  new  wine' 


sinless  moral  character,  and  the  Divine  guidance  He  constantly 
sought  and  found  in  the  fulfilment  of  His  vocation.     If  not,  we 
cannot  assume  any  such  change.    The  question  is  discussed  in 
The  Expositor,  6th  series,  vol.  vi.  'The  Early  Self-Disc.osure.' 
Literature.— Arthur,  Tmigue  of  Fire ;  J.  C.  Shairp,  Studies, 

362  ff-  Alfred  E.  Garvie. 

ENTRY  INTO  JERUSALEM.-This  was  one  of 

the  acted  parables  of  Jesus,  in  whi<:h  some  im- 
mortal lesson  is  concealed.  The  wa.sliing  of  the 
feet,  the  entry,  and  the  cleansing  of  the  Temple, 
stand  together  as  dramatic  representations  of  the 
principles  and  ideas  of  the  Kingdom  of  God;  of 
the  humility  and  self-denial  required  in  the  life  of 
the  Christian  ;  of  the  mixture  of  condescension  and 
majesty  in  the  manner  of  the  King's  coming  ;  and 
of  the  peace  He  gives  and  of  the  judgment  that 
follows  in  His  .steps. 

Of  the  Synoptic  accounts  Mk.  seems  the 
original.  Mt.  describes  the  entry  in  keeping  with 
his  representation  of  Je.sus  as  the  Malka  Meshiha 
of  the  Jews,  and  in  consonance  with  the  prophecy 
of  Zee  9'.  The  KV  rendering  of  21<  toCto  Si  yiyovcv, 
'  Now  this  is  come  to  pass,'  seems  to  put  the  refer- 
ence to  the  fulfilment  of  that  prophecy  into  the 
mouth  of  Jesus.  But  the  inference  from  Jn  12'''-  '<* 
is  that  the  prophecy  is  an  afterthought  of  the 
disciples,  in  the  light  of  the  Ascension  ;  and  the  ten 
texts  of  '  fulfilment '  in  Mt.  are  always  comments  of 
the  writer.  Mt.  seems  to  represent  Jesus  as  riding 
on  the  she-ass  and  the  colt  (eirdvw  avTuv).  In  Zee  9» 
the  Heb.  i,  as  Rosenmiiller  points  out,  is  exegetical 
not  copulative,  and  as  'ass'  (iiDn)  is  male,  the 
proper  rendering  is  '  sitting  on  an  ass,  even  a  colt, 
the  foal  of  she-asses.'  There  is  thus  only  one  ass 
in  Zechariah.  The  apparent  duplication  is  due  to 
Hebrew  parallclisrmis.  Mt.  is  accused  of  embroi- 
dering the  historical  statement  by  adding  a  second 
ass  in  order  to  show  the  exact  literal  fulfilment 
of  prophecy  (Kirsopp  Lake,  at  Liverjiool  Church 
Congress).  Robertson's  attempt  (Christianity  nnd 
Mythology,  p.  368)  to  explain  the  two  asses  mytho- 
logically  as  signifying  that  the  'Sun -god  is  at  his 
highest  pitch  of  glory  and  is  coming  to  his  doom,' 
is  not  to  be  taken  seriously.  Mt-'s  penchant  for 
'  doubles  '  being  well  known  (cf.  8^  9-'  20="'-^''),  the 
passage  must  not  be  pressed.  Bengel's  comment 
is  'pullo  vectus  est,  asinS,  item  nsus,  pulli  comite.' 
Farrar  suggested  rendering  iir&ua  avTwti='  o\\  one 
of  them ' ;  cf.  Ac  23^.  Justin  Martyr  {Apol.  1.  32) 
speaks  only  of  a  colt,  but,  connecting  the  incident 
withGn  49",  describes  it  as  '  tied  to  a  vine.' 

The  prophecy  Mt  216,  a  compound  of  Is  62ii  and  Zee  99,  is 
taken  partly  from  Heb.,  partly  from  LXX.  LXX  suppresses 
iiyov,  which  is  recovered  from  Hebrew.  Mt.  suppresses  hixccto;  xu.) 
ir<uC<u»  (y^i:  Niph.  ptcp.:  satvatm  not  salrator,  trans,  active, 
through  influence  of  Tjypi;  ('  thy  salvation  ')  Is  6211J,  emphasizing 
rpaCt,  '  meek '  ('2i^). 

In  Mt.  there  is  a  description  of  the  commotion 
(iaelddri)  in  the  whole  city  ;  the  question,  '  Who  is 
this  ? ' ;  the  answer,  '  This  is  the  prophet  Jesus, 
he  who  is  from  Nazareth  of  Galilee,'  and  the 
greeting,  '  Hosanna  to  the  Son  of  David.'  Mk  1 1''" 
adds  some  vivid  details.  The  colt,  never  before 
used  (so  Lk.),  was  tied  '  at  the  door  without  in  the 
open  street '  {^irl  rod  aix<j>6Sov  [not  '  where  two  ways 
met,'  bivium,  Vulg.],  .Just.  Mart.  Iv  tivl  eiadSif  kuj^»)s 
(I.e.)  ;  &ii(poSa,  at  pv/iai.  (Hesych.).  The  woven 
branches  fo-Toi/SdSes)  cut  from  the  gardens  (aypuf, 
v.l.  for  dhSpav)  are  difi'erent  from  the  kXciSoi  (olive 
branches  in  classical  Greek)  cut  from  the  trees,  in 
Mt  218.  The  cry  of  the  people  is  '  Hosanna  ; 
Blessed  in  the  name  of  the  Lord  (ace.  to  Hebrew 
accents  and  idiom,  e.c/.  Dt  2P),  Blessed  be  the 
kingdom  that  cometh,  even  that  of  our  father 
David.'  Mk.  treats  the  visit  as  one  of  inspection. 
Jesus  retires,  '  having  looked  round  on  all  things, 
for  the  hour  was  late,'  whereas  Mt.  and  Lk.  give 
it  as  prelude  to  the  cleansing  of  the  Temple.     Lk 


-)20   EXTRY  IXTO  JERUSALEISI 


ENTRY  INTO  JERUSALEM 


jgcs-j5  gives  .itklitional  touches.  Tliej' placed  Jesus 
on  the  colt  eVe/Si/Satraj'  (fire/cde«7cu<  of  Mt  21'  being 
doubtful) ;  the  exact  place  of  the  exhibition  of 
popular  enthusiasm  is  given,  '  even  now  at  the 
descent  of  the  Mt.  of  Olives '  {iiS-q  irpbs  tJ  koto- 
/3a<r6i),  from  whic-h,  Dean  Stanley  states,  the  first 
view  is  caught  of  the  south-eastern  corner  of  the 
city  as  the  road  from  Bethany  begins  to  descend. 
The  lament  over  tlie  city,  the  retort  to  the  Phari- 
sees' objection,  '  If  these  should  hold  their  peace,' 
etc.,  are  peculiar  to  Luke.  The  song  is,  '  Peace  in 
heaven  and  glory  in  the  highest,'  a  seeming  adapta- 
tion of  the  'Hosanna,'  etc.,  to  suit  Greek  taste, 
perhaps  through  the  influence  of  the  angels'  song 
(Lk  2'^).  ^ 

Jn  12'-""  describes  the  scene  from  the  stand- 
point of  the  people  in  the  city  who  went  out  to 
meet  Him  (ci's  iira.vTTi<TLi') :  the  blending  of  the  two 
streams  of  people,  the  oi  wpodyovrei,  '  those  going 
before  '  of  the  Synoptics  being  those  who  had  gone 
out  to  meet  Him  and  had  turned  back  when  they 
met  Him  at  the  head  of  the  procession,  and  thus 
preceded  Him  to  the  city ;  tlie  testimony  of  the 
people  wlio  were  with  Him  to  the  new-comers  that 
(reading  Sn  for  Sre)  He  had  summoned  Lazarus 
from  the  tomb ;  and  the  fact  that  the  people  from 
tlie  city  took  branches  of  palm  trees  (to.  /3aia  tuv 
tpoivUijiv  [from  class,  pah,  '  palm-branch,'  not  from 
^aiiSs,  '  small ' ;  note  the  three  different  words  for 
'  branch,'  xXaSot,  (rTi/3as,  and  ^atov].  The  prophecy 
is  given  in  a  shorter  form.  Jesus  is  hailed  '  King 
of  Israel,'  and  the  Pharisees  comment  on  their  o«n 
powerlessness  and  His  popularity  (\'.'-'). 

This  entry  was  connected  with  Josus'  conscious- 
ness of  His  Messianic  mission,  gradu.illj-  develop- 
ing as  His  work  assumed  definite  direction  and 
His  doctrine  definite  form ;  was  conceived  after 
the  prophecies  of  the  OT,  and  planned  in  order  to 
satisfy  the  expectations  of  many  who  were  wait- 
ing for  the  coming  of  the  Kingdom  of  God,  '  the 
consolation  of  Israel,'  '  the  redemption  of  Jeru- 
salem' (Lk  2='-  f).  After  the  feeding  of  the  5000 
( Jn  6")  the  multitude  recognized  Jesusas  the  prophet 
that  sliould  come  into  the  world,  and  would  have 
seized  Him  and  made  Him  a  king,  but  He  defeated 
their  purpose  ;  for  He  could  not  allow  an  emotional 
peasantry,  ever  ready  to  flock  to  the  standard  of 
a  deliverer,  to  identify  His  Kingdom  with  this 
world,  or  His  cause  with  that  of  a  Judas  of  Galilee. 
Here  He  devises  the  entry  on  the  lines  of  Jewish 
prophecy,  which,  though  free  from  any  hostile 
intention,  was  equivalent  to  a  declaration  that  He 
was  the  Messiah,  and  implied  that  He  was  more. 
It  was  nut  directly  ur^ed  against  Him  at  His 
trial;  I:;  it  irilicd  Pilate  with  his  question, 
'Art  i'  K         if  tlie  Jews?' and,  accordingly, 

with  r  -  for  his  sentence.     Tills  and 

the  il.  !,  iiij  '  !  His  two  first  and  last  actions 
as  Messiah.     They  were  followed  by  the  Cross. 

We  may  infer  in  some  measure  from  the  song, 
the  prophecy  quoted,  and  His  mode  of  entry,  how 
far  Jesus  fulfilled  and  how  far  He  transcended  the 
Messianic  expectations  of  His  day. 

1.  The  Kingdom  of  our  father  Darirl.^— The 
Kingdom  of  God  or  of  heaven  in  the  sense  of 
the  rule  or  Herrschaft  of  God,  '  the  power  of 
God  in  its  present  or  future  manifestation,'  the 
spiritual  sway  and  'sovereignty  of  God'  (Dal- 
man.  Worth  of  Jesus,  p.  94),  not  in  the  sense 
of  Home  Rule  for  the  Jews,  had  always  been 
the  text  of  Jesus'  jrablic  addresses  (ilt  4'"). 
Sliortly  before  this  the  Pharisees  liad  asked  when 
the  Kingdom  of  God  should  come  (Lk  17=»).  And 
His  :iii  r  V  1  in  keeping  with  His  object  of 
purify;  '■  M  -nnic  ideas  and  exalting  the 
Sles-iii  !  His  a'_'e.     It  was  the  Kingdom 

of  Hi-  1  nil  1  \h  Ji-'jaml  of  the  Father  of  the 
righteous  (.\lt   13'  j  that  He   proclaimed  ;   it  was 


the  kingdom  of  their  father  David  of  which  the 
people  thought.  And  His  question,  '  What  think 
j-e  of  Christ!'  (Mt  22*=),  shows  that  He  did  not 
consider  Davidic  origin  sutiicient  status  in  itself 
for  the  Messiah.  'The  kingdom  of  our  father 
David '  recalls  the  grand  ideal  of  the  theocratic 
ruler,  the  representative  of  J",  the  ideal  son  to 
whose  descendants  that  throne  was  ensured  (2  S  7'°), 
upon  which  the  prophets  of  the  OT  continued  to 
build  their  hopes — hopes  which  had  become  greatlv 
modified  and  materialized  dtrring  the  struggle  with 
Antiochus  and  Rome,  and  by  contact  with  Grecian 
thought,  and  which  made  the  ordinary  Jew  dream  of 
a  deliverer  with  all  the  heroic  qualities  of  a  Judas 
Maccabfeus,  and  the  more  philosophic  think  of  an 
earthly  empire,  cosmopolitan  and  world  -  ruling 
like  the  Roman.  It  was  the  idea  in  the  prophets, 
chiefly  in  Dn  7'^-  "•  ",  of  a  kingdom,  holy,  super- 
natural, universal  and  eternal,  that  Je.sus  sought 
to  recover  from  the  lumber-room  of  tradition  ;  and 
in  this  He  was  assisted  by  the  gradual  revival 
of  more  spiritual  Messianic  hopes  among  thought- 
ful and  (levout  Jews  like  Simeon  and  Anna  (cf. 
also  the  angelic  prediction  of  Lk  V-  '  And  the 
Lord  God  shall  give  unto  him  the  throne  of  his 
father  David ').  The  Gospels  give  an  account  of 
the  general  Messianic  expectations.  The  Messiah 
was  not  to  come  from  Galilee  but  from  Bethlehem 
(Mt  2=),  was  king  of  the  Jews  (v.-),  was  to  perform 
miracles  (Jn  7^'),  to  be  a  prophet  (4=^),  to  appear 
mysteriously  (7^),  to  be  a  descendant  of  David  (Mt 
9"),  and  to  restore  again  the  kingdom  to  Israel 
(Ac  1«). 

2.  The  address  'Son  of  David.'— The  Messiah 
is  first  designated  Ms  AaviS  in  Ps-Sol  17^ — a  title 
founded  on  Scripture  expressions  such  as  'son' 
(Is  Q^),  'seed'  (Targ.  2  S  7'^),  'branch'  (Jer  23*  and 
Zee  6'^,  where  the  Aram,  paraphrase  for  'branch'  is 
'  AIes.siah').  The  Davidic  descent  of  Jesus,  never 
refuted  by  His  opponents,  was  accepted  by  St. 
Paul  (Ro  P).  But  Jesus  based  His  authority  on 
.something  higher  than  this  (Mt  22*^). 

3.  The  soiiff  'Hosanna  .  .  .  highest '  (cf.  Ps  118=®-  =*, 
the  festal  cry  amidst  which  the  altar  of  burnt- 
oflfering  was  solemnly  compassed  on  the  first  si.x 
days  of  the  Feast  of  Tabernacles,  and  on  the  last 
day  seven  times). — '  Hosanna,'  wliichinay  be  a  con- 
traction for  HOshi'ah  no.  (aGxrov  S^,  LXX),  or  shorter 
Hiph.  imper.  with  enclitic,  Nric-m,  is  evidently 
a  .salutation  =  ' greeting  to  (cf.  Lat.  lo  trinmphe) 
the  Son  of  David,'  not  supplication  a-s  in  Ps.  ;  cf. 
Didaehe,  x.  6,  licrawa  rip  6iif  AajSiS  ('hail'),  ixravvk 
iv  ToU  vi^iiXTOis  (Mt.)=56fo  ^v  v'PiiTTois  (Lk.).  In  Ps 
72"  116«  the  Heb.  >(  =  dat.)  is  found  after  Hipli.  of 
VVy,  but  the  fact' that  the  branches  at  the  Fea.st 
of  Tabernacles  were  called  'hosannas'  and  Mt.'s 
remarkable  omission  from  Zee  9'  of  ryiJ  (ffwfui', 
LXX),  which  would  have  thrown  a  new  light  on 
this  cry,  seem  to  denude  the  expression  of  any 
special  significance.     See  Hosanna. 

Dalm.in  sii'-crnet!;  that  the  oridnal   m-  of  the  people  was 

■Hf>«in'n    r.i. 1  "■  III-  ■■""•■  -f   I  ' '"■  he  that  comcth'(of<. 

cil.  p    :  J.      i  I  ilKit  in  the  OT,  J" 

Him-  '    \^"hile  the  Messiah 

wa<  11  1   ilie  idea  that  the 

Jle-j-!  ,11  \-  ..  '       1      I  .    I       ut.     An  interesting 

coniic\..yii  l...L..^^;.  io-.^       1 i  li.-  ^-i^ntice  with  cords  or 

woven  branches'  (,r--,:  =  c^rw'^ii!,  Mk  113)  and  the  entry  of 
Jesus  is  brought  out  in  Symm.  ruvif.rciTi  e>  ^tttryifu  truxir- 

It  is  possible  to  make  too  much  of  the  cere- 
monies of  the  Feast  of  Tabernacles  in  connexion 
with  this  entry,  which  took  place  just  before  the 
Feast  of  Passover  in  spring.  But  it  is  equally 
possible  that  the  song,  etc.,  may  have  been  due  to 
reminiscences  of  the  jireceding  Fea.st  of  Taber- 
nacles, Avlien  Jesus  was  iironounced  the  prophet 
and  the  Messiah  (Jn  7*'),  and  that  the  wliole 
passage  was  sung,  that  which  used  to  be  sujipljca- 


ENTRY  IXTO  JERUSALEM 


ENVY 


521 


tion  now  passing  into  greeting.  Our  conclusion  is, 
then,  that  though  the  song  '  Hosanna,'  etc.,  was 
used  in  salutation,  it  contains  an  allusion  to  the 
preceding  Feast  of  Tabernacles,  expresses  the  con- 
%ictioiis  of  many  of  tlie  people,  and  offers  a  remark- 
able parallel  to  Ps  118™-=". 

4.  Tlir  iiindr  of  entry. — Some  of  the  same  Galilcean 
folk  w  lio  wished  to  make  Jesus  a  king  before  the 
time  of  Jn  6'^  have  now,  in  their  progress  to 
the  city,  gathered  around  Him  and  escort  Him, 
their  national  Prophet,  with  song.  Others  come 
from  the  city  to  meet  Him,  and  receive  Him  with 
acts  of  homage  which  sliow  that  they  regarded 
Him  at  the  time  .as  the  prosi>ective  <leliverer  of  the 
nation.  In  2  Mao  10"-'  .ludas  Jlaccabieus  is  wel- 
comed witli  similar  acclamations  and  '  branches 
and  fair  boughs  and  palms,'  and  in  1  Mac  IS'*' 
Simon.  In  2  K  9'^  the  followers  of  Jehu,  the 
newly  proclaimed  king,  threw  down  their  cloaks 
(i/ictrm,  as  hei'e)  1)pfore  him.  Stanley  ahso  (SP  191) 
mentions  that  in  recent  times  the  i^eople  of 
Bethlehem  cast  their  cloaks  before  the  horse  of 
the  consul  of  Damascus.  Dalman  agrees  with 
Wellhausen  that  the  procession  did  not  acquire  its 
Messianic  colour  until  a  later  period,  and  that  few 
at  the  time  thought  of  the  prophecy  in  Zee.  (op. 
cit.  p.  222).  In  the  light  of  after  events,  Jesus 
entered  the  city  as  ]\Iessianic  king,  priest,  and 
prophet.  (1)  The  'prince'  had  to  provide  the 
sacrifices  'to  make  reconciliation  for  or  to  atone 
for  [is?^]  the  house  of  Israel'  (Ezk  45",  cf.  46^-" 
and  2  Ch  30^'').  So  does  'the  Lord's  Anointed' 
here.  (2)  The  priest  presents  the  offering.  So 
does  'the  priest  after  the  order  of  Melchizedek' 
(Ps  llC)  proceed,  metaphorically  speaking,  to 
'  bind  the  sacrifice  with  cords  unto  the  horns  of 
the  altar'  (118").  The  harmony  between  the  two 
offices  of  the  Messiah  as  king  and  priest  is  well 
described  in  Zee  6"  '  and  the  counsel  of  peace  shall 
be  between  the  two'  (so  Rosenm.).  The  growing 
predominance  of  the  priestly  office  of  the  jSlessiali 
IS  also  expressed  in  the  choice  of  the  colt '  whereon 
never  man  sat'  (iMk.  and  Lk.),  cf.  Nu  19"  'a  red 
heifer.  .  .  upon  which  never  came  yoke.'  (3)  The 
prophetic  character  of  the  Messiah  as  the  'mes- 
senger of  the  covenant'  (Mai  3'),  coming  to  His 
temple,  J"'s  prophet  to  the  world  and  a  light  to 
the  Gentiles  (Is  49"),  was  suitably  expressed  by  the 
proclamation  of  the  people,  'This  is  Jesus  the 
prophet,'  etc.,  and  by  their  testimony  to  His  mira- 
cles, generallj^  cc.iiiie.t.'.l  «illi  a  priipiiet.  (4)  There 
•was  another  iiliMl  nf  \\\i-  ( I'l'  i.iilizcd  in  Jesus  on 
this  occasion.  TImmmitI,  ;m.l  .-illlii'l.'il  |  ■;;•]  saint  of  Ps 
22",  the  Psalm  .■ii.i.n.priiUr,!  l,y  .Icmis  on  the  cross, 
was  represented  hy  llini  avIio  wept  over  the  city 
and  entered  it '  meek  [':i;  Zee  9"  =  ffpal5s,  ]\It2P  ;  also 
in  Mt  5=  =  Ps  37"],  and  sitting  upon  an  ass. '  Other 
significations  (jf  this  Heb  adj  ,  such  as  'poor' 
'opprcsNC.I,'  .-nicl  '  ])(>rsecuted' (in  Isaiah), 'were  also 
realized  in  .1,  mi,.  ]!ut  it  is  His  meekness  that 
Mt.  eiii].li:i^iz.-,,  <loulit!ess  because  of  His  ridmg 
onan  ax.  At  one  time  the  ass  ^^  is  not  i  dps]  ,s(  I 
animal.      Judges   rode    on   -white    a  I 

But  through  contact  \Mth  Gentiles  tl  I 

fallen  into  contempt.    Foi  6yos  JosL])hu 
KT^i/os  and  -iTTTros.     LXX  in  Zee  9"  picl         1 
ivyiov   and  TTilXos  to   the  despised  woid      li  v.  is, 
however,    the  tradition  that  the  Messiah  should 
come  riding  on  an  ass  (Sepp,  §  \  i   c   6)      (5)  The 


conception  of  Messiah  as  the  suffering  Sei\  ant  of 
Deut. -Isaiah  was,  however,  most  of  all  exemplified 
by  Him  who  on  this  occasion  humble<l  Hunself 
[ni!;j  (Nijih.  of  nij;  in  reflexue  sense)  Is  'SV  =  iTa 
Trelvu(T€v  iavrav,  Ph  2']  in  a  \oluntaij  mannei  in 
His  progress  to  a  death  for  His  people 

Matthew  describes  Jesus  as  aimed  with  author 
ity  (flouufa,  cf.  8'),  and  on  this  occasion  depicts 
Him   as   the   Malka   MtJalw  of   the  Jews      His 


authority  is  over  all  flesh,  to  make  tliem  feel  their 
want  of  God  and  Him.  The  sense  of  power  was 
derived  from  the  sense  of  His  mission  and  the 
consciousness  that  He  was  the  Son  of  God,  which 
made  Him  soar  beyond  the  Messianic  role  and  see 
Himself  the  Lord  of  the  whole  earth,  holding 
sway  by  peace,  spiritual  peace,  and  by  power, 
spiritual    power.     'He    claimed   for   Himself,'  as 


Dalman    remarks   [op. 

position  such  as  had  not  been  a.ssigned  even   to 


p.    313),    'an   exalted 


Messiah,'  and,  as  Harnack  (What  is  Christl- 
a7iity?  p.  141)  observes,  'He  leaves  the  idea  of  the 
]\Iessiali  far  behind  Him,  because  He  filled  it  with 
a  content  that  burst  it.'  It  was  in  the  same  spirit 
that  He  affirmed  His  Kingship  before  Pilate  (Mt 

The  object  of  this  entry  was  the  inauguration  of 
Jesus'  last  mission  to  His  people.  The  attraction 
of  the  provincial  crowds,  the  Jerusalem  populace, 
the  Greeks  and  proselytes,  if  not  the  impressing 
of  the  Jewish  hierarchy,  this  was  the  end  desired, 
and  in  a  great  measure  attained.  He  never  seems 
to  move  in  solitary  .state  in  the  Tenij)le ;  crowds 
are  always  around  Him ;  He  is  the  topic  of  the 
people's  conversation  and  the  subject  of  the 
priests'  conspiracy.  This  was  a  suitable  prelude 
to  a  great  missionary  enterprise  all  too  brief, 
but  crowded  perhaps  with  more  real  work  and 
witness  for  the  King  and  His  Kingdom  than  the 
preceding  portion  of  His  ministry.  It  led  to  the 
cleansing  of  the  Temple  on  the  same  or  the  follow- 
ing day,  and  these  together  culminated  in  the  Cross. 

IjTERATrRE.— Dalman,  Words  of  Jesus;  Harnack,  What  is 
Ch  ristianity  ? ;  Stanley,  SP ;  Farrar,  Life  of  Christ ;  Edersheini, 
/Jfe  and  Times ;  Hitchcock,  Mystery  of  the  Cross ;  artt. 
'  Hosanna,'  '  Messiah,'  '  Prophets '  in  Hastings'  DB. 

F.  R.  Montgomery  Hitchcock. 
ENYY.— The  word  </.96pos  occurs  in  the  Gospels 
only  in  the  two  parallel  passages  Mt  27'*  and  TVIk 
15"  in  connexion  with  the  trial  of  Jesus.  When 
tlie  members  of  the  Jewish  hierarchy  sought  the 
death  of  Jesus  at  the  hands  of  Pilate,  they 
attempted  to  veil  their  motives  under  the  pretence 
of  loyalty  to  Caesar.  Pilate  was  too  astute  a  man 
to  credit  these  professions  for  a  single  instant. 
He  perceived  (lylvuaKc,  ]\Ik  15'")  the  underlying 
feeling  to  be  envy.  If  the  word  yhu  ('  he  knew,' 
Jit  27")  is  .significant,  it  supports  the  opinion  that 
Pilate  had  previously  become  acquainted  with  the 
attitude  of  the  chief  priests  toward  Jesus.  The 
message  that  PUate  later  received  from  his  wife 
(Mt27"')  somewhat  favours  this  opinion.  In  fact 
it  was  the  business  of  Pilate  to  know  of  the  person 
of  Jesus  and  His  relations  to  the  leaders  of  the 
Jews,  and  nothing  but  the  contemptuous  indiflfer- 
ence  of  a  Gallio  would  have  hindered  him  from  the 
inquiries  necessary  for  gaining  this  knowledge. 


Perhaps  it  miRht  seem  at  first  as  though  the  feci  i  "•  nhi 

|romptedthepiiestsmi„htmore  properl^  le  t  n  e  1  jeil  u 

\  rom]  arison  of  the  two  feelni.,s,  jealoufN  ii  1  c    \      read 

-hoHs  Uir   distnictne    character  of   each        I     lou         i    I 

I  -il  .,n  fetl  iif,  which  is  often  had  to«Trd  a  r    al    ri  i     si 

1  foi  the  possession  of  that  \\hich  we  preatlj  desire  as 

or  ambition       Env\    is   a   similar  feehnj,    toward   oi 

tl    r  r^al  or  not,  wiio  already   possesses  that  which 

!     1      le      TpiIous^   is  enn  t\  prnn  j  ted  h\  fear    enw 


lake 


attempt  the  nial  ing:  of  it 

of  It  1  S9     And  here  13 

II  II  IS  Plato 

lattei 

r„etic 

that 
11  11 


522 


EPHPHATHA 


EPILEPSY 


0L-yx8et]:  *One  thai  is  moved  In  envy  contrives  that  his  neigh- 
bour shall  not  have  the  siood  that  he  has  or  seems  to  have.'  A 
careful  examination  of  tlie  use  of  ^flevc-  in  classic  Greek  authors 
justifies  this  statement  of  Aristotle,  and  reveals  that  it  means 
the  same  active  malif,'nant  feeling:  as  is  expressed  in  modern 
English  bv  the  word  '  en\  y.'  It  w  as  (fllntss  which  moved  the  gods 
to  prevent  men  from  attaining  a  great  or  uninterrupted  experi- 
ence of  prosperitv.  Pindar,  the  tragic  writers,  and  orators 
also  are  found  using  the  word  to  designate  the  active  impulse  to 
destrov  another's  prosperitv  so  far  as  one  has  the  power  to  do  it. 
The"  Septuagint,  according  to  Hatch's  Concordant,  uses 
^6i<o!  only  in  the  Apocr.vphal  books.  The  most  noteworthy 
instance  is  in  Wis  2^^  'on  account  of  the  envy  of  the  devil,  death 
entered  into  the  world. ' 

Since  envy  is  an  ill-will  or  malice  aroused  by 
the  success  or  good  gifts  of  another,  it  is  the  tit- 
ting  word  to  designate  the  motive  of  the  priests 
who  protested  their  loyalty  to  Csesar.  Envy  is 
not  a  primary  emotion.  Other  feelings  prepare 
the  way  for,  and  may  enter  into,  it.  It  is  the 
result  of  a  development  in  the  life  of  selfishness 
(Jul.  :\Iiaier,  Lehre  von  der  Siinde,  i.  -233  f.  [Eng.  tr. 
Christian  Doctrine  of  Sin,  i.  171]).  In  the  Gospels 
tliis  development  is  not  difiictilt  to  trace.  The 
deeds  and  words  of  Jesus  were  from  the  outset 
attended  by  suspicion  on  the  part  of  scribes  and 
Pharisees.  His  growing  popularity  aroused  their 
jealousy.  When  they  could  charge  Him  with  a 
compact  OTth  Beelzebub  (Mt  12--*-,  Mk  S^t-,  Lk 
ll""-),  they  had  begun  to  hate  Him  because  of  the 
popular  confidence  in  Hira,  and  especially  because 
this  confidence  was  of  a  degree  and  a  quality 
which  they  never  had  received,  and  which  they 
could  not  hope  to  receive.  This  occurrence  was  an 
attempt  to  discredit  Him  \nt\\  the  people,  and  it 
.showed  that  envy  had  obtained  full  lodgment  in 
their  hearts.  From  that  time  onwards  it  had  so 
large  a  share  in  their  lives,  that  when  they  appeared 
before  Pilate  they  were  so  mastered  by  this  feeling 
to  Avhich  they  had  given  free  rein  for  months,  that 
they  were  unable  to  conceal  it.  See  also  artt. 
CovETou.sNEss  and  Jealousy. 

F.  B.  Denio. 

EPHPHATHA.— An  Aramaic  word,  found  in  the 
Greek  text  of  Mk  7**.  AVe  there  read  that  Jesus 
said  to  a  man  who  was  '  deaf  and  had  an  impedi- 
ment in  his  speech,  Ephphatha '  {eifxfiaBd).  The 
Evangelist  appends  a  Greek  translation  of  the 
word  :  S  ianv  Sias'oix^l''')  '  that  is,  Be  opened.' 

There  are  two  Aram,  words  of  which  iftate  may  be  a  trans- 
literation :  (1)  nnsN ;  (2)  nnSN.  The  fonnei 
nriSnN  Imperative  Ithpaal ;  and  the  latter 
nnsnx  Imperative  Ithpeal  of  the  verb  nns  'to  open.'  In  Greek 
IMSS,  N^I)  present  iwiW,  which  is  certainly  Ithpeal,  whereas 
i^ifocHu  may  be  Ithp.aal.  Jerome  gives  Kpkphetha,  and  some 
Latin  JISS  give  effetha,  eptutha,  and  even  effcta,  Wellhausen 
in  his  Com.  on  Mk  7^  prints  i^^ara,  but  apparently  without 
MS  authority. 

The  form  t^^afla,  when  compared  with  its  Aram,  equivalent 
nnsnn,  presents  several  interesting  ppriiliarities  braring  on  the 
dialect  spoken  by  our  Lord.  (1)  W.  i,  .1,  n,.  r  ii.iaranceof 
the  guttural  n.     We  know  that  in  <    i!  i.  i      miaria  the 

gutturals  were  much  neglected,  or  I'  r  ,  and  they 

are  often  ignored  in  transliterating  .         ;ilo  Greek. 

Thus  we  find  Mio-o-ia;  from  Nn'^':  ,  i; .  -  :.-  n  m  x-pri  r'3; 
yiinx  from  D3n  '3  ;  Tiinuv  from  JiVpif'  (side  bj-  side  with  Jt/^<i«, 
where  the  i  does  duty  for  y).    (2)  We  note  the  assimilation  of 

tliat  II.  Ti. .  1'     I ,-,,,,,  ,11.  ..  ill]  the  labials  2,  D,  and  S,  then  in 

tii<|.i  ■!    ■      -.  i'l  to  the  first  radical  (Dalman's 

Aioii.        i     < 1'         I     (;i)  It  is  noteworthy  that  we 

ha\r  i1h    rri«iii 1    ii„    ;,.i.ir.xte  letter*.     According  to 

Hebrew  analogy,  nnSN  ought  to  give  fTT«(*a,  inasmuch  as  the 
dapliesh  always  indicates  the  harder  and  not  the  aspirated  form 
of  the  letter  5.  We  infer,  therefore,  that  in  the  Semitic 
language,  which  lies  behind  our  Greek  Test.,  there  was  a  devia- 
tion from  Hebrew  rule  as  to  the  daghesh.  If  Heb.  had  been  the 
basal  language  of  the  Gospels,  we  could  not  hav 
forms  as  B«»«oA«,ua',«  from  '3^11?  13  and  VrOfnyii  from  IT3 
•;kj.  The  aspirated  forms  n  and  B  after  a  closed  syllable  would 
be  intolerable.  The  daghesh  /ortc  is  also  singularly  treated  in 
Jl«Te«r«  from  K;ri?  and  Zx^x'^^  from  'Ji.    (4)  The 


of  t  in  l^ipaScc  may  possibly  indicate  that  the  dialect  spoken  by 
our  Lord  used  the  Sj/riac  prefix  nK  eth  with  passive  forms,  and 
not  nx  ith,  as  is  found  in  Palestinian  Aramaic ;  in  other  words, 
used  Ethpaal  for  Ithpaal. 

As  to  what  is  the  subject  of  the  verb  Siai/olx6riTi, 
'Be  tho%i  opened,'  there  is  room  for  diH'erence  of 
opinion.  It  may  be  the  mouth,  as  in  Lk  1"  (so 
Weiss,  Morison),  or  the  ear,  as  in  Targ.  on  Is  50*  (so 
Bruce,  Swete) ;  or  it  may  be  the  deaf  man  himself 
who  is  addressed.  One  door  of  knowledge  being 
shut,  the  man  is  conceived  of  as  a  bolted  chamber  : 
'  Jesus  said  to  him.  Be  thou  opened. ' 

Literature.— Zahn,  Einleitung  in  das  XT  i.  1-24 ;  Kautzsch, 
Gramm.  des  Biblisch-Aramdisch,  §  5  ;  Dalman,  Aram.  Gramm. 
201  f.,  222;  A.  Meyer,  Jem  Muttersprache,  52;  Meyer,  Bruce, 
Swete,  etc.,  on  Mk  7H  J.  T.  MARSHALL. 

EPHRAIM.— Jn  IP^  only.  After  the  raising  of 
Lazarus,  Jesus  departed,  in  consequence  of  the 
plots  of  the  chief  priests  against  Him,  'unto  a 
country  (RV  'into  the  country')  near  to  the 
wilderness,  into  a  city  called  Ephraim,  and  there 
continued  with  his  disciples.' 

There  are  scarcely  anv  textual  variations.  TR  spells  'E^/)oti'a  ; 
Lachinann,Tischendorf;  Westcott-IIort  spell  ■Ef^/l»t//t;Stephanu8, 
1560,  had  on  the  margin  the  reading  'Efpi/j.,  which  is  supported 
by  NL  and  Latin  witnesses,  and  the  name  lit-itipovfui^  as  to  be 
supplied  after  x*/""-  This  is  the  reading  of  D,  Sapfurim  in 
its  Latin  part,  for  which  Chase  {Sijro-Lat.  Text  of  Gospels,  108) 
and  R.  Harris  (A  Sttidi/  of  Codex  Bezm,  p.  184)  suggested  that 
<ra/i  might  be  the  Heb.  02* '  the  name ' ;  but  more  probable  is  the 
identification  with  Sepphorls,  which  in  Jog.  Ant.  xiv.  91  is 
spelt  ^Tfipaif  (v.ll.  'Sawtufoi!  and  other  forms) ;  so  Jerome  (s.l). 
'Araba'  in  OS  17.  13  f.):  '  Diocaisarea,  qua)  olim  Sagorine 
dicebatur.' 

Eusebius  in  his  Onomasticon  says  [ad  Ephron,  Jos. 
XV.  9) :  (i-ai  Ian  viiv  KiifiT}  'E(j>palfJ.  fieylaT-ri  Tepl  to, 
fidpua  AiXias  us  d7r6  arniduv  k  ;  in  the  Latin  render- 
ing of  Jerome:  'e.st  et  villa  pergrandis  Efrma 
nomine  contra  septentrionem  in  vicesimo  ab  yElia 
mUiario'  (ed.  Klostermann,  p.  86.  1,  90.  18).  With 
this  has  been  identified  vl/cre  [  =  m,?j;  Jos.  xviii.  23] : 
'  in  tribu  Beniamin  ;  et  est  hodie  vicus  Efraim.  in 
quinto  miliario  Bethelis  ad  orientem  respiciens' 
(p.  29.  4  ;  the  Greek  text  [28.  4 :  xai  vvv  Ian  Kibfir, 
Al4>pr]K  oTri]  is  here  defective);  further,  1  Mac  11** 
=Jos.  Ant.  xiii.  127  [ed.  Niese] :  toi>s  rpeTs  vonoin 
'A<paipe/ia.  (v.l.  'A(pipefia)  Kal  \vSSa  Kai  'Pafiadeiv  ; 
finally,  the  notice  of  Josephus  (BJ  iv.  551),  that 
Vespasian  took  Tirie-iiya  re  (earlier  reading  BaiffiiX  or 
B)/5>)X)  Kai  'E<ppalfi  iroX/x^a.  Since  Robinson,  the 
site  has  been  souglit  at  the  modern  ct-faiyibeh, 
4  miles  N.E.  from  Bethel.  Schiirer  (GJK»  i.  233) 
quotes  Robinson,  ii.  332-338;  Guerin,  Judie,  iii. 
45-51 ;  Buhl,  GAP  p.  177  ;  Heidet,  art.  'Ephrem' 
in  Vigouroux's  Dirt.  ii.  188511'.  ;  cf.,  further,  art. 
'Ephraim'  by  J.  H.  Kennedy  in  Hastings'  DB, 
and  by  T.  K.  Cheyne  in  Encyc.  Biblica.* 

Origen  compares,  for  the  retirement  of  Jesus,  Mt  4^''-  and 
then  allegorizes :  Ephraim,  according  to  On  4isif-  |  xa^nt^fia. ' ; 
ixUkOiv  ixtiSit  lis  Tj«  zif«»  'toS  iXm  xir/iaii,'  lyyix  tts  iff^mu 
'ije«Ai!iriaf,'r*«'Ef/>«7,aTKv'«(!e^To^/)oi;ff-ai''A«3'a^£»»jvfToX(»,etc.(neW 

Berlin  edition,  pp.  420,  651).    About  the  site  he  says  nothing. 

Eb.  Nestle. 
EPILEPSY. — There  is  but  one  specific  instance 
of  this  awful  malady  recorded  for  us  in  the 
Gospels.t  This  case  is,  however,  common  to  all 
three  Synoptists  (cf.  Mt  W",  Mk  g'"-,  Lk  9») ;  and 
tlie  three  accounts,  while  not  in  verbal  agreement, 
are  sufficiently  harmonious  to  leave  no  doubt  in 
the  mind  of  the  reader  as  to  the  nature  and  nialig- 


might  itself  lie  derived  from  Si'pphoris,  the  first  letter  being 
dropped  after  the  f  of  iU. 

t  'Ejiileptic'  is  substituted  b 
Ml  42J  171»  .as  tr.  of  frar.^ccivrh,. 


'lunatick'  of  AV  in 


EQUALITY 


nant  character  of  the  disease.  It  is  noteworthy 
that  the  writers  all  attribute  it  to  the  active 
agency  of  demons ;  and  this  is  the  more  remark- 
able as  St.  Matthew,  in  another  place,  appears  to 
diflerentiate  between  demon  possession  and  epUepsy 
{Mt  4-^  daifxovti^o^evovs  Kal  afXrjvLai'ofi^vovs),  Not 
only  do  the  Evangelists  record  their  own  and  the 
popular  belief  in  the  connexion  of  evil  spirits  with 
epilepsy ;  they  also  lead  us  to  believe  that  Jesus 
exercised  His  power  on  the  presupposition  of  the 
truth  of  this  contemporary  idea  (cf.  JSlt  17'*,  Mk 
9==,  Lk  9^2). 


in  this  connexion  that  medical  thought 
at  this  time  and,  indeed,  for  a  long:  period  subsequent  to  this, 
was  distinctly  on  the  side  of  the  Synoptists.  Aretieus(c.  70A.D.) 
in  writing  of  it  (Si^jn.  Morb,  Diuturn.  S7)  attempts  to  explain 
the  reason  why  epilepsy  was  called  'the  s.i(.Ted  illness'  Oifin 
xixX-wxouiri  TV,.  -r«fc,»).  The  remedy,  according  to  this  writer, 
belonged  not  to  human  hut  to  Divine  agency.  Hippocrates,  on 
the  other  hand,  writing  some  five  centuries  earlier,  refuses  to 
accept  the  belief  tliat  iIilii-  w.ls  anything  supernatural  about 

this  tlisease.     In  )i:       p    i   -  in'lje  exjilained  in  the  same 

way  as  any  otii' r  'I  p^nple  are  liable  (ia-TE  ^r^^v 

htaxpivovTec  ro   v"-  ,        .t  .'v  yeta-r^LLO.T^Vy  k.t.X.,  Morb. 

SacSOSIseelluLu  ;,  l..n,magc<ifSt.Luke,x>.'2<i]). 

The  important.  i>l;i.  r  h.  M  l,\  th.  l.ilief  in  the  malevolent  in- 
fluence of  demons  and  in  tlie  powers  of  the  exorcist  will  be 
recognized  if  we  turn,  e.g.,  to  TertuUian,  Apol.  23  ;  Origen,  c. 
Celg.  vii.  334  ;  Apost.  Constit.  viii.  26,  amongst  the  written  pro- 
ducts of  early  Christian  thought. 

The  word  employed  by  St.  Matthew  in  his 
description  of  the  epileptic  boy  (o-fXTjuafcrat),  as 
well  as  in  his  catalogue  of  ailments  (4^),  shows 
that  in  the  opinion  of  the  ancients  the  moon  had  a 
preponderating  influence  in  bringing  on  this  disease 
(cf.  Ps  121"  for  a  reference  to  the  baleful  effect 
which  the  brilliant  rays  of  the  moon  were  supposed 
to  exert,  and  which  from  the  context  seems  to  have 
been  thought  .as  .hadly  :is  sunstroke).  This  belief, 
too,  descended  fai  duwn  inlo  the  Middle  Ages; 
and,  indeed,  it  (■.111  li.uilly  li''  s.iid  to  have  altogether 
vanished  from  th(^  iiii|iui.ir  mind,  though  it  is  prob- 
ably now  confined  tot  lie  remoter  quarters  of  human 
habitation. 

A  comparative  study  of  the  particular  case  de- 
scribed by  each  of  the  Synoptists  reveals  the  fact 
that  St.  Mark  gives  a  much  more  graphic  and 
detailed  account  of  the  symptoms  than  either  of 
the  other  two.  According  to  this  writer,  tlie  boy 
was  deaf  and  dumb,  he  was  liable  to  be  seized  with 
convulsions  at  any  time  or  place  (oTroi;  edv,  v."),  to 
fall  violently  to  the  ground,  foaming  at  his  mouth, 
gnashing  with  and  grinding  his  teeth.  Finally,  he 
is  said  to  be  gradually  wasting  away  as  .i  rrsuK.  of 
the  frequency  of  the  seizures.  He  was,  iiiiMiox  ir, 
afflictedfromhischildhood  with  this. -iw  fill  nial.iilv, 
a  by  no  means  uncommon  feature  of  surh  ca-rs  (si'c 
art.  'Medicine,' by  A.  Macalisln,  in  lla-iin-s'  /)B 
ill.  327").  St.  Mark  also  gives  a  mm.I  .h  ,  ,,uiit  of  a 
fit  which  seems  to  have  been  Inoirjlii  ..n  l,y  the 
presence  of  Jesus,  or  by  the  exciti'ininl  mnsrciuent 
on  his  introduction  to  that  presence  (9-").  No 
sooner  did  he  come  before  Jesus  than  a  seizure 
with  terrible  convulsions  took  place,  and  falling 
on  the  ground  he  rolled  about  (fKuXfero  does  not 
seem  to  be  adequately  treated  in  EV)  foaming. 

Perhaps  the  most  pecuhar  part  of  the  Markan  narrative  is  the 
account  of  the  healing  process  According  to  the  Matthwan  and 
Lukan  \eisions  the  cuie  was  not  only  perfect,  it  was  mstan 
txncous(Mt  17i8=Lk9J  )  bt  Mark  on  the  otlKi  hand  sa\sit 
was  giadual  and  difficult  of  accomplishment  Itsus  idoptin„' 
a  tone  of  pel  emptorv  authontj  (  ya  tTiri/trirM  rro  ,\  ■^)  addressed 
the  spirit  as  i  person    and  was  answered   I  \  th     latter    who 

con^ulslonsbe^  1    l"    "     I       "^     '       i     '"    ' 


the  b\standeis 


the  healing  acts  of  lesus 
It  IS  re\ealed  in  another 
lirecedin^,  settioii  he  tells 


of  the  healing  by  Jesus  of  a  blind  man  at  Bethsaida.  The  cure 
in  this  case,  too,  was  effected  gradually,  and  was  completed  onlv 
by  the  contact  of  His  hands  with  the  afflicted  patient  (see  822--'">). 

That  'the  scribes'  seized  the  opportunity  afibrded 
by  this  case  to  carry  on  their  controversy  with 
Jesus  and  His  disciples  is  implied  in  St.  Mark, 
where  the  element  of  hostility  is  referred  to  (see 
v."  'and  scribes  disputing  against  them'  [7rp6s 
auroiSs]).  The  method  of  healing  adopted  by  Jesus 
was  in  striking  contrast  to  that  to  which  they  were 
accustomed  to  lend  themselves  (cf.  SImbbath  61 
and  Toscfta  Shabbath,  in  loc,  where  we  learn  of 
the  employment  of  charm.s,  such  as  amulets  and 
winged  insects  of  a  certain  kind,  in  the  cure  of 
epileptics).  With  Jesus  it  is  the  assertion  of  per- 
sonal superiority.  His  words  carry  with  them  the 
weight  of  indispvitable  authority.  The  command 
is  that  of  One  who  claims  the  lordship  over  disease 
and  death.  At  the  same  time  directness  and  sim- 
plicity are  the  essential  characteristics  of  His  atti- 
tude and  bearing.  Nor  did  Jesus  permit  this 
contrast  to  pass  unnoticed  (see  Mt  12^,  where  He 
refers  to  a  practice  recognized  as  legitimate  by  the 
religionists  of  His  day). 

Exorcism  was  practised  in  public  by  men  who 
professed  to  wield  authority  over  the  demon  world 
(cf.  Ac  19'^  which  is  the  only  place  where  the 
word  '  exorcist'  occurs  in  the  NT).  These  exorcists 
seem  to  have  relied  upon  the  repetition  of  certain 
names  to  effect  their  purpose,  and  along  with  this 
the  recitation  of  special  incantations,  of  which 
Solomon  particularly  was  considered  to  be  the 
author  (see  Jos.  Ant.  VIII.  ii.  5 ;  Schiirer,  HJP  II. 
iii.  151-155,  and  also  To  6-8  for  the  lengths  to 
which  belief  in  the  efficacy  of  charms  and  incanta- 
tions had  made  its  way  among  the  Jews).  We 
must  not  forget,  moreover,  that  the  followers  of 
Jesus  framed  their  methotls  of  healing  the  sick 
upon  this  contemporary  model.  The  utterance  of 
the  name  of  Jesus  found  its  place  in  their  cures 
(Ac  ?,<^  16'8,  Mk  9^-39  16"  etc.,  where  iv  t^  ovbficTi. 
'Iwov  XpiffTov  seems  to  be  an  essential  part  of  the 
formula  employed).     See  also  Demon,  LUNATIC. 

J.  K.  WlLLLS. 

EPIPHiNY.— See  Calendar,  p.  261  f. 

EQUALITY. — Equality  in  capability,  responsi- 
bility, and  future  destiny  is  by  no  means  taught 
by  Christ  in  the  Gospels.  Christians  are  not  re- 
duced to  one  uniform  level  of  worth  and  dignity, 
eitlier  here  or  hereafter.  In  the  parables  of  the 
Taliiits  ami  llii'  Founds  the  servants  are  not  in  a 
(•(inditiou  (if  ei|iiality  during  their  period  of  proba- 
tiun  or  aller^^tlrds  (Mt  25»--'",  Lk  19"--'').  The 
inequality  of  Dives  and  Lazarus  here  is  .in  admitted 
fact,  and  their  inequality  l«\i.n,l  ihr  -rave  is  a 
sure  consequence  (Lk  16=^).  <  Im-i  r.|i...itcdly  ad- 
mits without  deprecation  the  jiir.|ii;ility  uliservable 
among  men.  'There  .■nc  l.isl  \\lii(li  sliall  be  first, 
and  there  are  first  whirl,  sli.ill  !..■  last'  (Lk  IS*',  cf. 
Mt  19=").    There  is,  imir.d.  mi  suggestion  whatever 


grace  follows  the  law  of  life,  an  increasing  incre- 
ment following  upon  each  further  increment  (Lk 
19='')  'He  that  is  but  httle  in  the  kingdom  of 
hea\en'  is  greatei  than  John  the  Bnpti^t  (Mt  11", 
Lk  7=*).  Pie  eminence  is  not  at  all  diiectly  dis 
couraged  or  deprecated,  only  it  must  be  the  deepest 
mid  tiuest  o\ei  Hence,  apart  fiom  the  odiousness  of 
nip  iiisoti  \\  all  others  The  sons  of  Zebedee  are 
I  uiMijus  t  II  till  position  of  pre  eminence  heie 
11' 1  iml  too  InLilless  of  the  call  to  self  saciihce 
iiij\\(Mklii  MtiO')  Ml  disiiplesareindangei 
of  dcsiiin^  to  III  lioiioiui  I  1\  lillis  here,  instead 
of  sm  uliii_  (  lid  s  1  tcjA\  il  oi  duiuty  in  the  new 
life  bi  \(pnd  (Ml  Ji"  '  )  l.ul  to  be  qicritcst  in  the 
Kinqdum  nf  hiaicn  it  is  neccssaiy  to  be  as  a  little 


ERROR 


child  here  (Mt  18*,  Lk  9*«).  Such  lowly  and  meek 
Christians  are  called  '  little  children,'  and  the  Lord 
identifies  Himself  with  them  (Mk  S^).  The  disciple 
must  not  lord  it  over  his  fellow-disciples  wantonly 
and  arrogantly  (Mt  2-t'^  ^■).  Not  only  superiority, 
but  even  equality,  is  forbidden  as  the  goal  of  eftbrt. 
Mutual  service  is  to  be  the  aim  of  the  Christian 
community — the  first  is  to  be  bond-servant  of  all 
(Mk  10").  This  precept  of  service,  instead  of  insist- 
ence upon  equality  (Lk  22-'«-  ^),  was  beautifully  and 
touchingly  practised  by  the  Master-Servant  on 
the  night  of  His  betrayal  (Jn  13').  Every  man  is 
to  descend  below  the  level  of  equality  and  leave  it 
to  God  to  call  him  higher  if  it  be  good  in  His 
sight  (Lk  14").  Especially  in  respect  of  penitence 
for  sin  is  it  good  to  sink  all  considerations  of  com- 
parative merit  ( Lk  IS").  Except  in  the  ideal  sense, 
equality  is  neither  an  established  fact  nor  a  correct 
principle  in  the  Christian  Society.  We  are  sons 
of  one  P'ather,  and  so  brothers ;  but  brothers  are 
not  equal,  for  some  are  older  or  ^^^se^  or  richer 
or  better.  We  are  servants  of  one  Master,  and 
so  fellows  ;  but  in  this  service  there  are  various 
offices  and  diverse  stations.  Unity  rather  tlian 
equality  is  the  leading  characteristic  of  the  internal 
economy  of  the  Kingdom  of  heaven  (Jn  10'"  IP- 
17"  etc.). 


W.  B.  Frankland. 

ER. — An  ancestor  of  Jesus,  Lk  3^. 

ERROR. — As  one  who  lived  in  the  undimmed 
Wsion  of  holiness  and  truth,  '  who  saw  life  steadily 
and  saw  it  whole,'  Jesus  must  have  felt  mth  an 
intensity  we  cannot  fathom  how  sin  had  distorted 
the  reason  of  man  as  well  as  perverted  his  affec- 
tions. All  around  Him  He  saw  men  walking  '  in 
the  vanity  of  their  mind,  being  darkened  in  their 
understanding,  alienated  from  the  life  of  God 
because  of  the  ignorance  that  is  in  them,  because 
of  the  hardening  of  their  heart '  (Eph  4'*).  He  saw, 
also,  as  no  one  else  had  ever  seen,  that  the  recovery 
of  those  who  had  become  '  vain  in  their  reasonings' ' 
(Ro  l'^)  was  to  be  acliieved  less  bv  attacking  their 
godless  enors  than  by  aiming  at  the  renewal  of  the 
moral  and  spiritual  nature.  Thut  is  the  ftmda- 
mental  and  vital  point  to  emphasize.  Underljnng 
all  Christ's  dealings  with  error  tliere  was  tlie  recog- 
nition of  the  dependence  of  men's  opinions  and 
beliefs  upon  their  character.  We  seldom  realize 
how  raucli  we  contribute  to  the  judgments  we 
form.  We  set  out  with  the  intention  of  being 
wholly  governed  by  the  object.  We  want  to  know 
Avhat  it  really  is,  and  not  merely  what  it  appears 
to  be.  So  w"e  approach  it,  examine  it,  an<l  form 
our  ippiiiiiiii  (if  il.  Hut  tlie  eye  brings  with  it  the 
liowor  nf  Nccin;;  :  \\\r.\i  wi>  see  depends  not  merely 

upon    11 1.jr.t.   but  npiin   the  organ  of  vision. 

This  is  true  cs]ic-ii:illy  with  respect  to  all  judg- 
ments of  \alue,  all  questions  of  right  and  wrong, 
of  duty  and  religion.  The  possibilities  of  error 
increase  not  merely  \\-ith  the  complexity  of  the 
subject-matter,  but  with  the  way  in  which  our 
interests  and  convictions,  our  desires  and  predilec- 
tions, are  bound  up  mth  it.  In  the  region  of  the 
moral  and  spiritual  life  not  only  must  the  intelltct 
be  clear,--free  from  false  theory, — but  still  more 
necessary  is  it  that  the  heart  1)e  pure  .and  the 
practice  sound.  To  appreciate  goodness  a  man 
must  love  goodness ;  must  be,  if  not  <;oo<l,  at  any 
rate  good  in  many  ways.  '  Every  one,'  said  Jesus, 
'that  is  of  the  tnith  heareth  my  voice' (.Jn  18^). 
This  does  not,  of  cour.se,  mean  t^iat  all  moral  anil 
religious  errors  are  due  simply  to  a  depraved  heart. 
Violent  upholders  of  orthodoxy  have  been  only  too 
ready   to  assume   that  such  is  the  case,   and   to 


silence  the  heretic  by  declaring  him  a  bad  man. 
But  it  does  mean  that  there  is  a  moral  aptitude  for 
Christian  discipleshij>.  It  was  inevitable  that  men 
who  had  no  enthusiasm  for  goodness  should  mis- 
understand Christ  and  reject  Him.  It  was  equally 
certain  that  His  '  sheep '  would  hear  His  voice  and 
follow  Him. 

There  are  a  few  striking  illustrations  of  these 
principles  in  the  Gospels  ^\hxc\\  demand  our  atten- 
tion. 

1.  The  necessity  for  inward,  moral  clarity  and 
simplicity  is  strongly  insisted  on  by  Jesus  (Mt 
6-  ^,  Lk  n^-'^).  '  We  .so  often  talk  as  if  we  were 
only  obliged  to  ' '  follow  our  conscience "  ;  as  if  no 
one  could  lay  anything  to  oui'  charge  unless  we 
were  actin"  against  the  present  voice  of  conscience. 
But  tliis  IS  very  perilous  error.  We  are  also 
obliged  to  enlighten  our  conscience  and  keep  it 
enlightened.  It  is  as  much  liable  to  error  as  our 
iminstructed  intelligence,  as  much  liable  to  failure 
as  our  sight'  (Gore,  Xlie  Sermon  on  the  Mount,  p. 
146  f.).  The  thought  is  exine.ssed  in  other  forms 
equally  suggestive.  Thus  the  '  pure  heart '  is  the 
condition  of  the  vision  of  God  ( JIt  5*).  It  is  the 
'  honest  and  good  heart '  whicli,  having  heard  the 
word,  keeps  it  (Lk  8'=).  Heavenly  truth  is  liid 
from  the  ■s\-ise  and  prudent,  but  revealed  unto  babes 
(Mt  11^).  i'he  disciples  must  be  converted  and 
tecome  as  little  cliildren  (Mt  18="=,  Mk  lO'^). 

2.  Our  Lords  method  of  dealing  with  the  ignor- 
ant and  erring  is  full  of  instniction.  Take  the 
case  of  the  woman  suffering  from  an  is-sue  of  blood 
(Mt  ^-^-,  Mk  5^-^,  Lk  8«-").  It  would  be  hard 
to  exaggerate  the  poor  woman's  ignorance.  Her 
mind  was  full  of  erroneous  thoughts  of  Jesus.  At 
best  she  looks  upon  Him  as  a  worker  of  majjic. 
She  tliinks  that  she  may  be  able  to  steal  a  bles.sing 
from  Him  in  the  crowd.  But  there  was  working, 
even  in  that  darkness,  the  precious  element  of  faith. 
She  trusted  Jesus  as  far  as  she  understood  Him, 
and  that  was  enough  for  the  Master.  He  knew 
that  faith  in  Himself,  even  though  it  were  only  as 
a  grain  of  mustard  seed,  would  Ineak  through  the 
incumbent  weight  of  error  anil  ignorance,  and 
offer  a  free  way  for  His  grace  :  '  Dnnghter,  be  of 
good  comfort :  thy  faith  hath  made  thee  whole  ; 
go  in  peace.'  Jesus  adopted  essentially  the  same 
method  in  dealing  with  persons  like  Zaccha'us, 
Mary  Magdalene,  the  woman  of  Samaria,  and  the 
'publicans  and  sinnere '  generally.  These  Wctims 
and  slaves  of  pas-sion  and  ignorance  were  certainly 
not  good.  Their  lives  were  stained  by  error  and 
sin.  The  religious  classes  looked  uixm  them  as 
moral  outcasts.  And  yet  there  were  those  among 
them  open  to  conviction.  Their  wilful  and  pas- 
sionate lives  Iiad  not  destroyed  in  them  a  strange 
yearning  for  better  things.  And  when  purity 
drew  near  to  them,  adoi-ned  -vrith  such  Divine 
graciousness  as  it  was  in  the  Person  of  Jesus,  they 
became  responsive  to  it  and  yearned  after  it.  That 
was  faith,  and  Jesus  saw  'in  it  a  power  wliich 
would  work  for  the  redemption  of  the  whole 
nature.  His  one  endeavour  was  to  call  it  forth 
into  fullest  exercise.  Erroneous  thoughts  of  God 
and  life,  of  duty  and  religion,  would  all  slowly 
dis.ajqiear  under  tlie  influence  of  this  new  devotion 
to  Himself.  Btit,  after  all,  those  who  responded  to 
His  in\'itetions  (Mt  11=8*')  were  never  numerous. 
The  great  mass  of  the  people  was  untouched  and 
uninfluenced.  Sunk  in  stupid  imorance,  vice,  and 
worldliness,  tlie  masses,  at  the  best,  followed  Him 
for  a  time  in  gapin"  wonder,  thinking  far  more  of 
'  the  loaves  and  fishes '  than  of  the  new  life  and 
truth  He  placed  before  them.  Hence  the  sad  words 
with  which  Jesus  upbraided  '  the  cities  wherein 
most  of  his  mighty  works  were  done'  (Mt  11™"**). 

3.  The  Pharisees  and  the  other  religious  leaders. 
—At  first  it  seems  a  strange  thing  that  these  men, 


ESCHATOLOGY 


ESCHATOLOGY 


on  the  wliole,  fell  into  the  appalling  error  of  re- 
jecting Jesus.  'The  ^'ospel  did  notlplace  itself, 
directly  and  at  the  outset,  in  opposition  to  the 
errors  of  the  Pharisees.  .  .  .  But  the  dividing  gulf 
was  none  the  less  real,  and  would  baffle  every 
atteni])t  to  fathom  or  bridge  it  over'  (Reuss, 
Christian  ThcrjUirpj  in  the  Apostolic  Age,  p.  227). 
A  few  reflexions  on  the  lines  of  the  previous  re- 
marks will  make  this  clear.  The  whole  life  and 
thought    of   the    typical    Pharisee  was   a   closed 


'In  the  hands  of  the  Pharisees,  Judaism  finally 
became  petrified.'  It  was  a  body  of  rules  and 
doctrines  which  laid  the  main  stress  on  conduct 
and  outward  ceremonies, — a  rigid  mould  without 
plasticity  or  capability  of  expansion.  It  could  only 
react  in  antagonism  towards  one  who  offered  a 
religion  of  the  spirit,  a  worship  of  the  Father  in 
spirit  and  in  truth.  The  Pharisee  did  not  know 
what  to  make  of  a  renovating  and  inspiring  call 
which  bade  him  begin  afresh,  and  completely  revise 
Iiis  life  and  ren.iiiijii  in  the  light  of  a  higher  ideal. 
He  was  self-»;itislied,  and  resented  criticism  as  an 
intolerable  impertinence.  He  was  like  one  who 
says  that  he  must  follow  his  conscience,  but  who 
does  not  continually  seek  to  enlighten  his  conscience 
by  confronting  it  with  higher  aspects  of  truth. 
He  had  ears,  but  he  heard  not ;  eyes,  yet  he  was 
blind.  This  was  the  most  fatal  kind  of  error,  the 
most  hopeless  of  all  moral  states ;  and  it  was  in- 
evitable that  it  should  come  into  deadly  collision 
with  Jesus.  'While  the  Pharisaic  spirit  had 
changed  religion  into  a  narrow  and  barren  formal- 
ism, the  gospel  carefully  distinguished  the  form 
from  the  essence  in  things  religious.  Its  estimate 
of  man's  true  worth  and  the  certainty  of  his  hopes 
rested  not  upon  the  outward  conduct  of  the  life, 
but  upon  the  inward  direction  of  the  heart  and 
feelings'  (Reuss,  The  Gospel  and  Judaism,  vol.  i. 
p.  227).  The  errors  of  the  Pharisees  and  the  bitter 
hostility  to  Jesus  which  they  provoked  may  be 
studied  in  the  following  passages — they  are  a  mere 
selection :   Mt  &-^  12i-«  21=»-«  2i'^-^\  Mk  3'-»,  Lk 

gl-ll  1137-54  189-14^  Jn  530-47  714-52    gl2-59  9I-4I, 

4.  The  errors  of  the  disciples.— \t  is  not  necessary 
to  go  into  details  here.  In  responding  to  His  call 
the  disciples  of  Jesus  had  placed  themselves  in 
training  for  the  higher  life.  They  liad  passed  into 
a  school  where  the  scholar's  ignorance  and  error 
would  be  dealt  with  patiently  and  wisely.  They 
had  much  to  learn,  but  the  essential  tiling  was 
that  they  were  in  communion  with  the  Light  of 
Life. 

Literature.— lUinstworth,  Christian  Character;   Gore,  The 


ESCHATOLOGY.— 

I.  Eschatology  in  the  Synoptic  Gospels. 

A.  Current  Jemsh  eschatological  conceptions. 

1.  The  coming  Kingdom. 

2.  The  Jewish  supremacy. 

3.  The  Messiah. 

4.  Various  forms  of  the  conception  of  the  Messiah. 
6.  The  preliminaries  of  the  coming  Kingdom. 

(a1  The  heirs  of  the  Kingdom. 
(Ji)  The  Resurrection. 

(c)  Hades.  Gehenna.  Paradise. 

(d)  The  Final  Judgment. 

B.  The  main  features  of  our  Lord's  eschatological  teaching, 

1.  His  conception  of  the  Kingdom  of  God. 

2.  His  Messianic  consciousness. 

..    „  ^-  ^'^  ^■'^'''  °'  'he  time  of  the  Consunnuation. 

II.  Eschatology  in  the  Gospel  of  John. 

1.  The  idealizing  style  of  the  Gospel. 

2.  Its  conception  of  Eternal  Life. 

3.  Its  attitude  to  Eschatology  proper. 

Literature. 


The  design  of  this  article  is  indicated  particularly 
nnder  the  letter  B  in  the  above  Table  of  Contents. 


It  is  to  set  forth  the  main  features  of  the  teach- 
ing of  our  Lord  regarding  the  Last  Things.  His 
doctrine  is  presumably  discoverable  from  the  Four 
Gospels,  and  is  capable  of  being  exhibited  in  a 
self-consistent  form.  Yet  in  view  of  the  facts  of 
the  case  and  the  present  state  of  critical  opinion, 
it  will  be  necessary  to  keep  certain  distinctions 
steadily  in  mind. 

We  must  distinguish  between  (I.)  the  Synoptic 
Gospels  and  (II.)  the  Gospel  of  John ;  and  we 
must  distinguish  between  (A)  current  Jewish  con- 
ceptions and  (B)  the  conceptions  of  Jesus.  In 
proportion  to  our  feeling  of  the  real  unity  of  our 
subject,  it  will  be  impossible  to  maintain  these 
distinctions  with  rigidity  ;  yet  a  total  disregard  of 
them  is  impossible  to  any  one  who  would  keep  on 
terms  with  the  criticism  of  the  Gospels  in  our  own 
day,  or,  what  is  more  important,  would  appreciate 
in  any  just  degree  the  holy  originality  of  Jesus. 
The  bearing,  however,  of  what  is  called  the 
Synoptic  Problem  upon  any  matter  important  to 
our  purpose  is  so  slight  that  we  may  safely  ignore 
it,  mentioning  only  that  we  assume  as  a  good 
working  hypothesis  the  prevailing  critical  theoi-y, 
which  gives  precedence  in  point  of  time,  and  even, 
in  certain  aspects,  of  importance,  to  the  Gospel  of 
Mark. 

I.    ESCHATOLOGY   IN   THE   SYNOPTIC  GOSPELS.— 

A.  Current  Jewish  escuatological  concep- 
tions AS  WITNESSED  TO  BY  THE  GOSPELS.— Ho  far 
as  these  are  concerned,  it  does  not  seem  necessary 
to  make  any  distinction  between  the  Synoptics 
among  themselves  or  between  them  and  John.  It 
may  be  generally  postulated,  moreover,  that  the 
fundamental  conceptions  are  those  of  the  OT, 
although  it  will  be  found  that  some  of  these  have 
undergone  modification  since  the  time  of  the  latest 
canonical  books.  Our  principal  witnesses  are 
naturally  the  Synoptics.  In  them  we  have  the 
most  accurate  reports  accessible  to  us  of  the  words 
actually  used  by  Jesus  ;  and  where  His  sayings,  as 
there  recorded,  employ  the  language  of  eschatology, 
apart  from  explanations  ^^•llich  give  it  a  turn 
peculiar  to  Himself,  we  may  assume  that  the 
language  in  its  natural  implications  represents 
current  Jewish  belief. 

1.  The  coming  Kingdom. — It  is  clear  that  Jesus 
addressed  people  who  had  a  perfectly  distinct, 
though  not  accurately  defined,  idea  of  an  age  or 
kingdom  to  come,  which  should  follow  on  the 
consummation  (tri/^WXeia,  Mt  IS^"'-)  of  the  present 
age.  He  speaks,  e.g.,  of  rewards  to  the  faithful 
'  in  this  time  {Kaip&s),'  and  of  eternal  life  in  the 
'  world  (aMf )  to  come '  (Mk  10**) ;  and  the  phrase 
'Kingdom  of  God,'  which  was  constantly  on  His 
lips,  while  doubtless  subjected  to  expositions 
which  charged  it  with  new  meanings  for  His 
followers,  yet  rested  on  a  view  of  things  common 
to  Him  and  to  even  irresponsive  hearers.  It  meant 
the  perfect  form  of  the  Theocracy  of  which  all 
the  prophets  had  spoken. 

2.  The  Jewish  supremacy.  —  It  was  generally 
believed  that  the  Kingdom  would  come  through 
an  act  of  power,  in  which  God  would  visit  His 
people, — the  Jews, — delivering  them  from  all  their 
enemies,  so  that  they  might  serve  Him  without 
fear  in  holiness  and  righteousness  for  ever  (Lk  1'^). 
Men  of  the  type  of  Simeon,  Zacharias,  and  Joseph 
of  Arimathaea  waited  for  the  consolation  of  Israel. 
Such  persons  doubtless  believed  with  the  prophets 
{e.g.  Is  W"-  9"-,  Zee  9')  th.tt  the  supremacy  of 
God's  people  would  be  maintained,  if  not  actually 
accomplished,  by  methods  of  peace,  and  even  in 
the  spirit  of  brotherly  alliance  among  the  nations 
(see  esp.  Is  19-^'),  who  would  receive  the  'law' 
from  Mount  Zion  (Is  2--*).  Yet  obviously  both 
they  and  the  general  populace,  and  even  the  dis- 
ciples after  the  Resurrection  (Ac  1°),  thought  of  a 


526 


ESCIIATOLOGY 


ESCHATOLOGY 


state   of   things   in   which   the  position  of  God's 
ancient  people  would  be  central  and  supreme. 

3.  The  Messiah.— Beyond  the  general  belief  that 
the  Kingdom  would  come  through  an  act  or  series 
of  acts  of  Divine  power,  there  is  abundant  evidence 
that  in  the  time  represented  by  the  Gospels  there 
was  among  the  Jewish  people,  though  not  confined 
to  them,*  the  definite  expectation  that  the  King- 
dom would  come  through  the  advent  of  a  personal 
Kuler — called  by  the  Jews  the  Messiah  or,  in 
Greek,  the  C%m<  =  '  the  Anointed' — on  whom  God 
would  pour  forth  His  Spirit  in  extraordinary 
measure.  This  belief,  so  far  as  the  Jews  were 
concerned,  goes  back  to  the  testimony  of  the 
earlier  prophets  (esp.  Isaiah  and  Micah),  but  its 
history  within  the  OT  period  shows  that  it  some- 
times either  disappeared  altogether  or  retired  into 
the  background,  its  place  being  taken  by  such  a 
view  as  that  expressed  in  Jer  SI*'*-— of  a  reign 
of  Jahweh  Himself  through  His  law  written  on 
the  hearts  of  His  people,  t  We  need  not  here 
inquire  into  the  causes  of  this  fluctuation.  It  is 
enough  to  remark  that  for  about  a  century  before 
the  time  of  Christ  the  belief  that  the  Kingdom 
would  be  established  through  an  individual  world- 
wide Ruler,  who  would  exercise  practically  Divine 
powers,  had  been  current  in  larger  or  smaller 
circles  among  the  Jews.  Sufficient  proof  of  this 
lies  in  the  circumstance  that  in  the  time  of  our 
Lord  passages  in  the  Prophets  (e.g.  Deutero-Isaiah) 
or  in  the  Apocalypse  of  Daniel,  which  had  origin- 
ally no  reference  to  an  individual  Messiah,^  had 
come  to  be  so  interpreted.  The  interpretation  is 
current.  No  other  is  even  thought  of.  In  some 
cases,  no  doubt — as  notably  in  the  fulfilments  of 
prophecy  marked  by  the  First  Evangelist — it  may 
be  difficult  to  decide  whether  the  exegesis  of  "a 
passage  cited  from  a  prophet  is  not  of  purely 
Christian  origin ;  but  there  are  unquestionably 
some  cases  (notably  Dn  7^^)  in  which  the  impor- 
tation of  a  reference  to  an  individual  Messiah 
into  passages  which  really  contain  no  such  refer- 
ence, is  of  pre-Christian  date. 

4.  Various  forms  of  the  conception  of  the 
Messiah.  —  It  is  difficult  to  determine  witli  any 
minuteness  how  the  Messiah  was  conceived,  as 
regarded  either  His  Person  or  His  work.  In  re- 
gard to  the  former,  e.g.,  it  would  be  unwarrant- 
able to  infer  from  Mt  V  (cf.  Is  T'*)  that  it  was 
generally  believed  that  He  would  be  born  of  a 
virgin,  and  perhaps  equally  so  to  infer  from  the 
fact  that  the  disciples  (16"' 1!),  and  perhaps  others 
also  (14^^),  expressed  their  belief  in  the  Messiah- 
ship  of  Jesus  by  calling  Him  the  Son  of  God,  the 
prevalence  of  a  belief  among  Jewish  theologians  of 
the  1st  cent,  that  the  Messiah  was  of  one  nieta- 

^sical  being  wth  Jahweh.  The  utmost  per- 
,)S  which  we  can  affirm  is  that  it  was  largely 
believed  that  the  origin  of  the  Messiah  would  be 
mysterious  (Jn  T"),  and  that  this  belief  rested  in 
all  probability  directly  on  the  Messianic  interpre- 
tation of  Dn  l'"^-.%  It  seems  possible,  however,  to 
distinguish  two  general  types  of  belief  regarding 
the  Messiah  and  His  work.  The  one  may  be  called 
the  Prophetic,  the  other  the  Apocalyptic  type. 
The  former  type,  which  was  the  more  popular  and 
lield  its  ground  even  with  the  scholars  of  the  time 
(Mk  12***-  II),  rested  on  the  early  Prophetic  testi- 
mony that  the  Messiah  would  spring  from  the 
house  of  David,— a  belief  of  whose  persistence  and 


phys 
haps 


3; 


Riehm's  Messianic  Prophecy, 


•  On    this   cf.    Tacitus,    Uitt. 
Josephus,  BJ  VI.  v.  4. 

t  On  this  fluctuation  see  esp. 
T.  &  T.  Clarlc,  1900. 

t  In  the  case  of  Daniel  this  is  disputed  by  such  competent 
scholars  as  Hilffenfeld  and  Uiehm. 

5  On  the  antiquity  of  the  Danielic  conception  itself  see  the 
interesting  work  of  H.  Gressniann,  Der  Vrspmng  der  isr.-jud. 
EschatQlogU.  p.  334  fl.,  Gottingen,  1905. 


of  whose  correspondence  with  the  actual  fact  the 
circumstance  that  Jesus  is  confidently  affirmed  or 
assumed  by  five  of  the  NT  writers  (Matthew, 
Luke,  Paul,  author  of  Hebrews,  author  of  Apoca- 
lypse*) to  have  been  of  the  seed  of  David  may 
be  considered  the  most  striking  proof.  According 
to  this  type,  so  far  as  purely  Jemsh  belief  is  con- 
cerned, the  work  of  the  Messiah,  while  super- 
human, was  conceived  on  comparatively  secular 
lines.  He  would  destroy  his  persistent  enemies 
and  establish  a  reign  of  lasting  righteousness  and 
peace  over  obedient  and  contented  subjects.  This 
type,  taken  by  itself,  hardly  possesses  for  us 
eschatological  interest.  It  belongs  to  a  mode  of 
conception  in  which  the  problems  of  death  and 
immortality,  if  realized  at  all,  cannot  be  solved. 
The  spliere  ottered  for  solving  them  is  too  mun- 
dane. It  is  otherwise  with  the  apocalyptic  type 
of  view,  which  rested  mainly  on  the  Book  of 
Daniel,  esp.  Dn  7'^'-  and  12-'-.  Whether  or  not 
the  author  of  Daniel  in  the  latter  of  these  passages 
conceived  of  a  resurrection  from  the  dead  available 
for  all  past  generations  of  faithful  Israelites,  it 
seems  certain  that  in  the  time  of  our  Lord  this 
sense  was  assigned  to  his  words  by  those  who, 
like  the  Pharisees,  held  the  doctrine.  According 
to  Josephus,  t  the  Pharisees  held  a  fatalistic 
doctrine  of  the  present  life— but  not  of  human 
conduct — which  seems  to  have  resembled  that  of 
the  Stoics,  and  which  made  them  for  the  most  part 
averse  to  schemes  of  political  revolution.  Their 
participation,  therefore,  in  the  popular  \-iew  of  the 
'  Son  of  David '  was  more  theoretical  than  real. 
Their  tendency  was  to  conceive  the  final  Kingdom 
on  strictly  supernatural  lines.  It  was  a  wonder 
that  would  not  spring  from  earth,  but  would 
descend  from  heaven.  The  Messiah  was  the  Man 
of  Daniel's  vision,  the  Man  of  the  Clouds.J 

Two  points  have  recently  been  much  in  dispute :  (o)  Whether 
in  view  of  the  grammatical  possibilities  of  Aramaic,  as  used  in 
the  time  of  Jesus,  He  could  have  applied  to  Himself  the  phrase 
•Son  of  Man*  or  'Man'  as  a  title,  basing  on  Dn  7^^:  and 
(6)  Whether  He  could  have  done  this  so  habitually  as  our 
Gospels  represent.  Even  those  who,  like  Lietzmann§  and 
WeUhausen.i;  have  reached  on  these  points  the  most  negative 
conclusions,  do  not  doubt  that  in  the  latt«r  part  of  His  career, 
and  perhaps  habitually.  Jesus  held  the  apocalyptic  view  of 
the  final  Kingdom  and'of  the  glorious  advent  of  the  Messiah ; 
and,  even  if  we  exclude  the  Ititle  'Son  of  Man'  from  those 
passages  in  the  Gospels  which  have  no  eschatological  reference, 
there  remains  a  siitficient  number  (about  a  third  of  the  entire 
number,  exclusive  of  John)  where  the  eschatological  reference 
is  distinct.  Thus,  e.g.,  out  of  32  instances  of  'Son  of  Man 'in 
Matthew's  Gospel,  14  are  apocalyptic.il 

It  is  indubitable  that  in  the  time  of  our  Lord  the 
Book  of  Daniel  and  other  Apocalypses  modelled  on 
it  were  much  read  by  a  considerable  portion  of  the 
Jewish  people.  Many  of  those  whose  ^■iew•s  were 
influenced  by  this  literature  saw  no  inconsistency 
in  combining  with  these  views  others  derived  from 
literature  of  the  '  prophetic '  type,  e.g.  The  Psalter 
of  Solomon,**  embodying  the  ancient  and  still 
popular  conception  of  the  '  Son  of  David.'  Yet,  as 
this  veneration  for  ancient  prophecy  was  combined 
for  the  most  part  mth  political  quiescence,  it  may 
perhaps  be  said  that  in  the  more  reflective  minds 
'  Son  of  David '  and  '  Son  of  Man '  represented  one 
heavenly  ideal.  Jesus  Himself  expressly  repudi- 
ated the  implications  of  'Son  of  David'  (Mk 
12^"'  |t) ;  but  it  is  remarkable  that  this  did  not 
hinder  the  prevalence  in  Christian  circles  of  the 
Apostolic  age  of  the  belief  that  He  was  of  the  seed 
of  David  according  to  the  flesh,  and  the  Evangelists 
Matthew  and  Luke  risked  publishing  pedigrees, 

*  Mt  11,  Lk  331,  Ro  13,  He  714.  Rev  55. 


ailed  The  Psalms  of 


5  Der  ilenschensoh n.  ■ 
II  Skizzenxu  Vorarb.  •■ 
•I  Iiluirhead,  EschnfJ 
•'Psalms  of  the  Phir 
Solomon,  Rvle  and  Jame' 


ESCHATOLOGY 


KSCHATOLOGY 


527 


whose  apjiarent  mutual  inconsistencies  constitute 
tlie  chief  difficulty  of  the  modern  mind  in  accept- 
ing the  fact  they  were  designed  to  establish. 

Instructive  in  this  connexion  is  the  phrase 
'  Kingdom  of  the  heavens '  in  Matthew's  Gospel. 
The  phrase  is,  of  course,  equivalent  in  meaning  to 
'  Kingdom  of  God '  which  the  other  Evangelists 
employ.  It  need  not,  however,  be  questioned  that 
Jesus,  occasionally  at  least,  used  '  Kingdom  of  the 
heavens,'  and  it  seems  certain  that  He  did  not 
invent  the  phrase.  It  was  current,  and  it  pointed 
to  the  apocalyptic  construction  of  the  Messianic 
hope.  The  Kmgdom  belonged  to  the  heavens,  and 
would  come  thence  to  earth.  It  was  the  unlike- 
ness  of  Jesus  to  the  altogether  wonderful  Person- 
age of  the  apocalyptic  Messiah  that  offended  the 
Pharisees.  If  He  were  the  Messiah,  why  should 
He  refuse  a  sign  from  Iieaven?  (Mt  IG'"'-). 

S.  The  preliminaries  of  the  coming  Kingdom.— 
Assuming  this  leading  idea  of  a  Kingdom  to  come, 
heavenly  in  its  origin  and  nature,  we  must  now 
ask  how  the  various  matters  preliminary  to  or 
accompanying  its  advent  were  conceived. 

(«)  Who  were  the  heirs  of  the  Kingdom''.  There 
were  people  'just  and  devout'  (Lk  2-^)  who  'waited 
for  tlie  consolation  of  Israel,'  the  still  surviving 
tj'pe  of  Jahweh's  '  poor  ones '  who  '  cried  unto  him 
and  he  heard  them '  (Ps  34^).  Such  persons,  how- 
ever, did  not  advertise  themselves,  nor  did  they  as 
a  rule  sit  in  the  seat  of  the  learned.  The  prevail- 
ing teachers  were  the  scribes  and  Pharisees,  whose 
yoke,  practically  intolerable,  was  yet  theoretically 
imperative.  It  has  been  questioned  how  far  readers 
of  the  Gospels  get  from  them  a  fair  impression  of 
the  moral  and  religious  influence  exercised  by  the 
teachers  of  the  Law,  and  it  lias  been  contended, 
with  perhaps  some  justice,  that  tlie  impression  so 
derived  is  as  one-sided  as  the  impression  of  the 
Roman  Church  one  naturally  gathers  from  his- 
tories of  the  Protestant  Reformation.  Still,  the 
good  type  of  scribe  or  Catholic  is  not  due  to  the 
tendency  against  which  the  Evangelic  text  or  the 
Reformation  is  a  protest.  It  cannot  be  doubted 
that  in  the  time  of  our  Lord  it  was  authoritatively 
taught  by  the  Pharisees  that  the  title  to  inheri- 
tance of  the  heavenly  kingdom  was  a  punctilious 
observance  of  the  L»,w  after  the  manner  of  their 
own  practice.  Their  doctrine,  indeed,  on  this 
point  is  not  explicitly  stated  in  the  Gospels  or  in 
any  contemporary  documents.  But  the  impression 
we  gather  from  the  situation  depicted  in  the 
Gospels  and  from  the  record  regarding  the  Apostle 
Paul  favours  the  supposition  that  the  view  of  the 
Pharisees  in  the  time  of  Jesus  is  that  represented 
by  the  Rabbinism  of  the  2nd  cent.,  viz.  that  the 
Messiah  would  come  when  Jahweh's  people,  the 
Jews,  were  found  generally  and  carefidty  observing 
the  Law*  And  the  '  Law'  meant  not  simply  the 
legal  precepts  of  the  Pentateuch  (in  particular  the 
Priestly  Code),  it  meant  the  'tradition'  of  the 
elders.  While  the  average  man  inevitably  shook 
off  the  punctilios  of  obedience,  and  the  Phs 
themselves  took  refuge  from  their  own  rigour  .__ 
an  elaborate  casuistry,  we  cannot  doubt  that  the 
generally  accepted  view  was  that  the  passport  to 
the  Kingdom  was  'the  righteousness  of  the  law.' 

(b)  The  Resurrection.  But  generations  of  faithful 
Israelites  passed,  and  the  Messiah  did  not  come. 
Would  they  miss  the  glory  when  it  came?  At 
least  since  the  time  of  the  Syrian  persecution 
(B.C.  168-165)— the  time  of  the  Apocalypse  of 
Daniel— it  was  taught  that  death  formed  no  in- 
superable barrier  to  the  inheritance  of  tlie  King- 
dom.    Probably  the  author  of  Daniel  (12=')  had  in 

'  The  Jerusalem  Talmud  {Taan.  64a)  remarks  on  Ex  162=  that 
'if  Israel  only  kept  one  Sabbath  according  to  the  command- 
ment, the  Messiah  would  immediately  come.'  See  Ederslieim's 
Life  and  Times  of  Jesus  the  Messiah,  vol.  ii.  p.  713. 


view  mainly  (we  cannot  say  exclusively)  those 
Israelites  who  had  sealed  their  fidelity  to  the  law 
of  Jahweh  with  their  blood,  but  it  may  be  taken 
for  certain  that,  long  before  the  time  represented 
by  the  Gospels,  all  idea  of  the  blessings  of  the  King- 
dom being  restricted  to  members  of  the  holy  nation 
who  had  suffered  death  for  their  fidelity  (if  such  an 
idea  was  ever  entertained),  had  completely  disap- 
peared. It  was  taught  that  there  would  be  a 
resurrection  of  the  riffhteous  (Lk  W*),  i.e.  of  those 
who  kept  the  '  Law '  and  the  '  Tradition.' 

(c)  Hades,  Gehenna,  Paradise.  There  is  nowhere 
in  the  Gospels  an  explicit  statement  of  what  was 
held  regarding  the  state  of  the  dead  ;  but  four 
times  (Mt  11=^  16",  Lk  10'=  16=^)  the  word  Hades 
(Ai'Sijs)  occurs.  In  the  LXX  this  word  is  the 
almost  invariable  equivalent  of  Sin^fi ;  and  when 
Jesus  used  it  without  comment,  it  must  be  held  to 
liave  conveyed  to  His  hearers  the  associations 
proper  to  that  word.  The  NT  as  well  as  the  OT  * 
is  dominated  by  a  view  of  things  in  which  the 
modern  idea  that  annihilation  may  be  the  fate  of 
some  men  has  no  place.  The  dead  are  in  a  land  of 
darkness  and  forgetfulness,  cut  off  from  knowledge 
of  afl'airs  human  and  Divine.  Still,  in  this  condi- 
tion— at  most  the  pale  reflexion  of  full-blooded 
life — they  exist.  Two  things,  however,  must  be 
observed  :  (i.)  There  is  in  the  OT  itself  a  marked, 
if  not  systematized,  protest  against  the  idea  that 
permanent  detention  in  Sheol  or  Hades  can  be  the 
fate  of  the  righteous,  who  had  found  their  portion 
in  the  living  God  (see  esii.  Ps  16  and  73  and  Job 
14  and  19).  Historically,  doubtless,  the  experience 
of  suffering  under  the  various  oppressors  of  the 
nation  (Assyrian,  Chaldajan,  Grseco-Syrian)  had 
much  to  do  with  the  development  of  this  protest ; 
but  it  is  probably  a  mistake  to  suppose  that  it  was 
when  they  were  actually  suffering  under  the  yoke 
of  the  world-powers  that  the  people  of  Jahweh 
adopted  from  foreign  sources  much  or  anything 
that  bore  on  the  problem  of  what  lay  beyond 
death.  This  caution  applies  specially  to  the  rela- 
tion of  Hebrew  thought  to  the  mythological  ideas 
of  Babylon  or  Egypt.  The  impregnation  of  the 
Hebrew  spirit  with  ideas  coming  from  these 
sources  dates  in  all  probability  from  a  much 
earlier  period  than  the  6th  cent.  B.C.  All  we  can 
say  for  certain,  perhaps,  is  that  the  experience  of 
national  humiliation  quickened  in  a  special  degree 
the  peculiar  Hebrew  genius,  leading  it  at  this  time 
(say  from  the  6th  cent,  onwards)  to  place  the 
peculiar  stamp  of  the  Jahweh  faith  on  mythical 
ideas  or  pictures,  which  in  some  cases  it  had 
carried  with  it  since  the  days  of  its  infancy  in 
Mesopotamia,  (ii.)  Although  there  is  no  hint 
in  the  OT  itself  of  effect  being  given  to  moral 
distinctions  between  the  wicked  and  the  godly 
in  Hades  itself,  yet  the  suggestion  of  a  possible 
escape  for  the  godly  from  the  gloom  of  the 
underworld  could  not  but  raise,  and  ultimately 
decide,  another  question,  viz.  whether  the  distinc- 
tion between  the  godly  and  the  wicked  was  not 
observed  from  the  moment  of  death.  For  perhaps 
about  100  years  before  Christ  the  idea  of  separate 
compartments  in  Hades,  for  the  godly  and  the 
wicked  respectively,  had  more  or  less  prevailed 
(see  Apocalyptic  Literature,  esp.  the  part 
dealing  with  the  Book  of  Enoch).  Obviously 
our  Lord  could  not  have  uttered  the  parable  of  the 
Ricli  Man  and  Lazarus  (Lk  16'»«r-),  or  said  to  the 
penitent  malefactor  (23"),  'To-day  shalt  thou  be 
with  me  in  Paradise,'  had  He  not  been  addressing 
people  accustomed  to  the  idea  that  in  the  inter- 
mediate state,  previous  to  the  resurrection  and  the 
final  judgment,  moral  distinctions  were  accorded 
a  real,  if  incomplete,  recognition.     It  is  obvious 


528 


ESCHATOLOGY 


ESCHATOLOGY 


from  the  entire  tenor  of  our  Lord's  references  (see 
esp.  the  instructive  passage  Mt  5-"')  to  Gehenna 
that  He  ^.poke  to  those  to  whom  tliis  term  repre- 
sented the  utmost  condemnation  and  punishment. 
It  represented  the  fate  of  those  who  should  still  be 
enemies  of  Jahweh  in  that  day  when  Jerusalem 
should  be  renewed  by  righteousness,  and  all  flesh 
(i.e.  all  living)  should  go  out  and  behold  the  car- 
cases of  those  who  had  transgressed,  for  '  their 
worm  shall  not  die,  neither  shall  their  fire  be 
quenched'  (Is  66^'')-  See  artt.  GEHENNA  and 
Paradise. 

(d)  The  Final  Judgment.  In  our  Christian 
minds,  as  with  the  NT  writers,  the  idea  of  the 
Resurrection  is  inseparably  associated  with  that  of 
the  Judgment  which  follows  it.  In  the  main 
track  of  OT  thought,  indeed,  this  association  did 
not  exist.  The  habit  of  conceiving  the  subject  of 
the  Divine  favour  or  punislimeut  rather  as  a 
nation  than  as  a  number  of  individuals,  made  it 
possible,  or  even  natural,  practically  to  ignore  the 
individual  side  of  the  problem  of  life  and  death, 
and  the  distinction,  natural  to  us,  between  this 
world  and  that  which  is  to  come  is  represented  in 
the  OT  mainly  by  the  distinction  between  this  life 
^vith  God  and  this  life  without  Him.  Under  this 
view  of  things  the  prevailing  conception  of  judg- 
ment in  OT  times  is  that  of  a  manifestation  of 
Jahweh's  righteousness  (whether  it  be  through  His 


'  messenger '  [Mai  3']  or  through  the  Me: 
'Son  of  David'  [Is  U'"-]),  in  which  He  eifectually 
visits  His  people  with  His  mercy,  and  breaks  the 
arm  of  the  unrighteous  peoples,  who  forget  God 
and  oppress  them.  These  heathen  return  to  Sheol 
(Ps  9");  but  the  covenant  of  Jahweh  with  His 
faithful  people  is  established  for  ever.  The  his- 
tory seems  to  show  that  it  was  possible  for  pious 
Israelites  to  rest  in  this  view,  merging  individual 
hopes  in  hopes  for  the  nation,  until  the  actual 
disaster  of  the  E.xile  shook  their  faith  in  the  per- 
manence of  tlie  collective  unit  of  the  Jewish  State. 
From  this  time,  however,  as  we  see  clearly  from 
tlie  writings  of  Jereraiali  and  Ezekiel  (cf.  esp. 
Ezk  18),  the  claims  of  the  individual  come  into 
prominence.  It  was  felt  tliat  in  the  righteousness 
of  God  one  generation  ought  not  to  sutler  for  the 
sins  of  its  predecessors.  Each  generation,  even 
each  unit  of  a  generation,  liad  its  own  rights. 
Yet,  in  fact,  it  seemed  as  though  these  rights  were 
ignored.  It  is  with  the  problem  raised  by  this 
conflict  between  the  prophetic  conscience  and  the 
facts,  that  the  apocalyptic  literature  from  Daniel 
onwards  is  concerned.  The  sohition  obtained 
springs  from  the  despair  that  lies  on  the  border 
of  hope.  The  mundane  element  in  the  old  idea  of 
a  Prince  of  the  house  of  David  tends  to  disappear. 
The  blessing,  which  could  not  spring  from  earth, 
was  expected  from  heaven,  and  at  the  touch  of  the 
new  power,  coming  thence,  even  the  '  dust '  of  the 
earth  (i.e.  esp.  dead  Israelites  who  liad  kept  the 
covenant)  should  awake  (Is  26'*).  Wliile,  doubt- 
less, the  adumbrations  of  the  conception  of  im- 
mortality wliich  we  find  scattered  throughout  the 
OT  had  their  origin  in  the  sentiment  that  it  must 
be  well  with  the  righteous  for  ever,  this  positive 
aspect  of  the  matter  was  inseparable  from  a  nega- 
tive. The  righteous  could  liardly  be  \'indicated 
unless  punisliment  fell  on  the  rebels  and  trans- 
gressors. Hence  even  in  Dn  12",  which  cannot  be 
said  to  teacli  a  universal  resurrection,  among  the 
'  many '  who  awake  from  the  dust  of  the  earth 
there  are  'some'  who  arise  to  'shame  and  ever- 
lasting contempt.'  It  was  inevitable  that  these 
conceptions  should  be  universalized.  If,  as  even 
the  former  Prophets  and  Psalmists  in  their  own 
fashion  had  taught,  there  was  to  be  a  univrraal 
judgment  (i.e.  a  vengeance  of  Jahweh  exercised 
upon  all  rebel  Gentiles  and  upon  the  transgressors 


I  of  the  covenant  in  Israel),  and  if  the  collective 
unit  of  the  nation  was  practically  displaced  by  the 
individual,  it  is  clear  that  the  idea  of  universal 
judgment  must  have  come  to  have  for  its  counter- 
part the  idea  of  universal  resurrection.  No  doubt 
the  conception  was  held  vaguely,  and  was  as  little 
efi'ective  for  practical  consolation  as  it  is  to  this 
day  (cf.  Martha's  attitude,  Jn  11^) — still  it  was 
there.  When  Jesus  spoke  of  the  'resurrection 
of  the  dead,'  or  even  of  the  Messianic  'Son  of 
Man'  as  executing  judgment.  He  was  using  lan- 
guage whose  general  implications  were  either  en- 
tirely or  (as  in  the  case  of  '  Son  of  Man  ')  at  least 
partially  understood  by  His  hearers. 
B.  The  main  features  of  our  Lord's  es- 

CBATOLOGICAL  TEACHIXG,— Taming  now  to  the 
subject  of  our  Lord's  eschatological  teaching,  and 
looking  to  the  present  condition  of  critical  opinion, 
we  may  make  a  distinction,  which  has  in  most 
respects  only  a  theoretical  value,  between  the 
eschatological  views  of  the  early  Church  as  re- 
tiected  in  the  Gospels  and  those  held  and  taught 
by  Jesus  Himself.  The  Gospels  are  as  a  whole 
too  entirely  dominated  by  the  spirit  of  truth  as  it 
was  in  Jesus  to  make  it  possible,  without  arbitra- 
riness, to  vindicate  this  distinction  in  detail.  Yet 
the  investigation  in  which  we  are  engaged  seems 
to  reveal  problems  arising  out  of  portions  of  even 
the  SjTioptic  Gospels,  in  connexion  with  which  it 
may  be  well  to  remember  that  the  Master  must 
not  be  measured  even  by  His  best  reporters.  The 
distinction  may  seem  a  priori  to  have  even  more 
warrant  in  reference  to  the  Fourth  Gospel,  whose 
representation  both  of  the  Person  and  the  words  of 
Jesus  stands  in  such  obvious  contrast  to  that  of 
the  Synoptics  as  to  justify  our  dealing  with  it 
in  a  separate  section.  We  may  do  this  even 
though  in  the  end  we  may  find  ourselves  to  agree 
with  Haupt*  that  the  Johannine  presentation  of 
the  eschatology  of  Jesus  supplies  just  the  kind  of 
supplement  to  that  of  the  Synoptics  which  a 
critical  study  of  the  latter  led  us  to  think  neces- 
sary. We  therefore  consider  at  present  only  the 
eschatology  of  Jesus  as  presented  in  the  Synoptic 
Gospels. 

1.  His  conception  of  the  Kingdom  of  God. — 
Both  John  the  Baptist  and  Jesus  preached,  saying, 
'Repent:  for  the  Kingdom  of  God  (in  Mt.  most 
frequently  'the  Kingdom  of  the  heavens')  is  at 
hand.'  There  seems  no  reason  to  doubt  that  in 
general  Jesus  thought  of  the  Kingdom  just  as  John 
did.  Modern  writers  on  the  Gospels,  like  Johannes 
Weiss  t  and  Titius,  J  warn  us  with  considerable 
justice  against  reading  our  own  philosophical 
thoughts  into  the  simple  realism  of  the  Bible. 
The  Kingdom  of  God  meant  the  perfect  rule  of 
God  over  all  things  in  earth  and  heaven  for  the 
benefit  of  His  people.  It  was  eternal,  it  was  uni- 
versal in  the  sense  of  embracing  people  of  all 
nations,  though,  of  course,  only  those  in  each 
nation  who  did  righteousness  ;  and  it  embraced  not 
earth  only,  but  also  heaven,  whence  it  should  come, 
and  to  whose  type,  as  regarded  at  least  the  char- 
acter of  its  subjects,  it  should  be  conformed.  It 
may  be  postulated  perhaps,  further,  that  the  King- 
dom was  conceived  by  Jesus,  in  at  least  its  exter- 
nal features,  on  the  closest  possible  analogy  to  an 
earthly  kingdom.  In  two  important  respects, 
however,  it  differed  from  the  latter,  (a)  It  was 
not  promoted  by  the  weapons  of  i\i'<]\  and  blood. 
It  was  a  Kingdom  where  rmk  .v.ii  tliat  of  the 
King  Himself— was  deteniiiniMl  l.y  thr  measure  of 
service.     The  spirit  of   service   «as    tlie   spirit  of 

•  Haupt,  Die  Eschatul.  Aussajm  Jem  in  den  Sifnopt.  Emn- 
qdien.  Berlin,  1895. 

"  t  Johannes  Weiss,  DU  Predlgt  Jesu,  vam  Reiehe  GotUt, 
Cottinjren,  1900. 

;  Titius,  Die  mutest.  Lehrc  vm  der  Seliijkeit,  pt.  i.  1895. 


ESCHATOLOGY 


ESCHATOLOGY 


529 


lowly  love.  (6)  It  was  a  Kingdom  which,  while 
coming  ultimately  from  God  and  heaven,  came 
through  a  Mediator,  by  whom  it  would  be  ad- 
ministered. Since  His  baptism  Jesus  had  the 
witness  within  Himself  that  He  was  the  Mediator. 
He  was  the  Messianic  King  who  was  truly  the 
'Son  of  God'  (Ps  2).  To  Him  the  whole  trust  of 
the  Kingdom  was  given,  even  all  power  in  heaven 
and  earth.  Barring  the  mystery  revealed  at  His 
baptism,  which  concerned  primarily  Himself  only, 
we  must  admit  that  such  a  view  of  things  was 
inevitable  to  One  who  found  the  form  and  sub- 
stance of  His  faith  in  the  OT,  and  at  the  same 
time  believed,  in  harmony  with  the  earlier  Prophets 
and  the  prevailing  tendency  of  His  own  time,  in  a 
personal  Messiah.  We  seem  therefore  warranted 
in  assuming  that  such  was  the  view  of  Jesus  at 
the  commencement  of  His  ministry.  The  King- 
dom was  coming  from  heaven.  He  Himself  was 
the  Person  appointed  to  establish  it  on  earth. 
Beyond  this,  liowever,  the  witness  of  the  OT  and 
His  own  special  experience  previous  to  and  at  the 
time  of  His  baptism  would  not  necessarily  carry 
Him.  It  is  perhaps  permissible  to  find  in  the  story 
of  the  Temptation  (Mt  41t-,  Lk  4"^-)  the  record  of  a 
period  when,  not  without  a  struggle  with  the  prince 
of  this  evil  world.  He  renounced  the  idea  that  the 
Kingdom  was  to  come  immediately  tlirough  some 
dramatic  catastrophic  exercise  of  the  heavenly 
power  with  which  He  felt  Himself  to  be  charged. 
It  is  more  to  our  purpose  at  present  to  note  that 
while  He  renounced  this  catastrophic  ideal  (if  we 
may  call  it  so)  to  the  extent  of  refusing  to  allow  it 
to  deflect  Him  from  obedience  to  the  l3ivine  word. 
He  did  not,  according  to  the  Synoptics,  renounce  it 
so  far  as  His  general  view  of  the  mode  of  the 
Kingdom's  advent  was  concerned.  To  the  last  He 
spoke  in  apocalyptic  fashion  of  the  Son  of  Man 
coming  on  the  clouds.  The  glorious  Parousia 
would  illuminate  simultaneously  all  quarters  of 
heaven  like  the  lightning  (Lk  17"*).  It  would 
happen  within  that  generation  although  He  could 
not  tell  the  day  nor  the  hour,  and  it  would  be  pre- 
ceded by  disasters  on  a  "reat  scale,  affecting  not 
simply  the  human  world,  but  the  cosmical  system. 
How  far  it  is  true  to  the  mind  of  Jesus,  as  He 
spoke  on  earth,  to  take  the  language  of  the  so- 
called  'great  eschatological  discourse'  (Mk  13,  cf. 
Mt  24)  with  strict  literalness,  has  been  of  late 
keenly  debated,  and  some  have  been  disposed  to 
see  in  this  discourse  and  matter  harmonizing  with  it 
in  the  Gospels,  an  example  of  the  way  in  which  our 
Lord  found  it  necessary  to  accommodate  His  lan- 
guage to  conceptions  which  were  inevitable  for  the 
hearers  if  not  for  Himself.  Others  may  perhaps 
incline  to  a  view  which  has  been  advocated  by 
the  present  writer,*  that  the  phenomena  of  this 
peculiarly  apocalyptic  discourse  otter  an  occasion 
on  which  it  is  profitable  to  remember  that  the 
thoughts  of  Jesus  far  transcended  those  of  even 
the  most  forward  of  His  disciples.  But,  while  we 
may  well  acknowledge  a  certain  elusiveness  in  tlie 
language  of  Jesus  in  which  He  deals  with  the 
future,  we  cannot  without  violence  to  the  Synoptic 
record  refuse  to  admit  that  in  His  habitual  view 
the  Kingdom  of  God  was  not  something  that  had 
already  come  with  Himself,  but  was  ratlier  some- 
thing that  still  lay  in  the  future.  Everyone  sees 
that  when  Jesus  said,  '  The  kingdom  of  God  is  at 
hand'  (cf.  ijyyi.Kcv  =  has  come  near),  or  bade  the  dis- 
ciples pray,  'Thy  kingdom  come,'  He  must  have 
thought  of  the  Kingdom  as  being  still  in  the 
future. 

But  what  of  the  passages  in  which  it  seems  to 

be  implied  that  the  Kingdom  is  already  present? 

For  instance  Mt  11"  (cf.  Lk7^),  in  which  John  the 

Baptist  is  declared  less  than  tlie  least  in  the  King- 

'  Op.  cit.,  Lect.  1. 


dom  of  God,  or  Mt  12-»  (cf.  Lk  IP"),  in  which  the 
expelling  of  demons  in  the  name  of  God  is  ottered 
as  proof  that  the  Kingdom  of  God  has  come,  or  the 
para,bles  (Mt  IS""-,  Mk  4^'"f-)  in  which  the  Kingdom 
of  God  is  represented  as  actually  in  process  of 
coming  to  its  proper  magnitude  in  the  world,  and 
therefore  already  rooted  there?  It  is  the  crux  of 
the  student  of  eschatology  in  the  Gospels  to  show 
how  these  two  modes  of  conception,  presential  and 
futuristic  (sometimes  distinguished  as  ethical  and 
cschatoloqical),  can  be  reconciled.  Perhaps  the 
most  satisfactory  recent  treatment  of  the  subject 
is  to  be  found  in  a  brief  but  brilliant  essay  of 
Professor  Wernle.*  Wernle  lays  probably  ex- 
cessive stress  on  what  he  considers  the  '  ecclesias- 
tical' element  in  the  construction  of  even  the 
Synoptic  Gospels  (esp.  Matthew).  But  his  book, 
read  in  the  light  of  the  contributions  of  prede- 
cessors to  the  same  discussion  (esp.  Haupt,  Titius, 
and  Job.  Weiss),  shows  very  convincingly  that  we 
must,  in  fairness  to  our  authorities  the  Synoptics, 
and  in  view  of  the  entire  historical  situation 
reflected  in  these  writings,  start  from  the  fact  that 
our  Lord  habitually  thought  and  spoke  of  the 
Kingdom — however  much  He  might  identify  it 
with  Himself — as,  so  to  speak,  an  objective  wonder 
of  the  future.  It  does  not,  indeed,  follow  that 
this  was  the  sole  or  even  the  most  important  aspect 
of  it  present  to  His  mind  ;  but  it  seems  right  that 
we  should  accommodate  to  it,  if  possible,  those 
passages  in  which  the  Kingdom  seems  to  be  spoken 
of  as  if  it  were  already  present,  and  tliat  this 
accommodation  should  be  made  apart  from  the 
intrusion  of  distinctively  modern  thoughts.  This 
Wernle  has  done  with  great  plausibility  in  the  case 
of  the  passages  above  referred  to,  pointing  out  that 
when  regard  is  had  to  the  context,  literal  or  cir- 
cumstantial, the  difficulty  disappears.  Thus  in  the 
passage  Mt  11"  (Lk  7^)  a  main  element  in  the  situa- 
tion is  a  certain  rivalry  between  the  circle  of  John 
the  Baptist  and  the  circle  of  .lesus.  The  former 
approach  the  latter  in  an  attitude  of  aggressive 
doubt.  If  Jesus  is  the  Messiah,  where  is  tlio 
Kingdom  that  should  come  with  Him  ?  In  what 
respect  are  those  who  have  attached  themselves 
to  Jesus  better  than  those  who  hold  to  tlieir  old 
master,  John  ?  To  such  aggressive  questioning  the 
answer  is  :  '  The  Kingdom  has  come  already.  Its 
powers  are  seen  working  among  us  (v.='-).  Those 
who  keep  apart  from  the  sphere  of  these  wonders, 
however  truly  they  may  fulfil  otherwise  the  con- 
ditions of  membership  in  the  Kingdom,  are  yet 
actually  standing  on  the  outside.'  On  this  read- 
ing, the  passage,  so  far  from  being  antagonistic  to 
the  eschatological  view  of  the  Kingdom,  in  reality 
strongly  supports  that  view.  For  a  main  point  of 
the  argument  is  the  assumption  that,  while  a  high 
ethical  standard  in  practice  may  be  expected  of 
the  children  of  the  Kingdom  or  may  be  a  condition 
of  entrance  into  it,  the  Kingdom  itself  is  some- 
thing more  than  this.  It  is  the  product  of  a  power 
altogether  supernatural  and  ajiart  from  the  will  of 
men.  Not  righteousness,  but  tlie  working  of  this 
power,  is  the  criterion  of  the  Kingdom.  Else  surely 
the  Kingdom  would  be  with  the  greatest  of  men 
born  of  women,  and  not  (as  it  actually  is)  with 
men  of  even  much  less  stature  than  his. 


The  same  line  of  solution  seems  available  in  the 

ase  of  the 

other  passaijes.    Thus  in  the  passage  Mt  12""',  esp. 

.."-s  (cf.  Lk 

UUff.,  esp.  v.M),  a  main  element  in  thr-  .ifr,.!^-'  - 

a:;ain  the 

element  of  attack.     The  Pharise.^  in-- i.    H.i 

...  demons 

may  be  subdued    by  the  power  -  i    i 

1    prince. 

Jesus  answers  that  such  a  state  i  i     ' 

...tivable. 

Satan  cannot  wiHh  to  overthrow  liis  <, 

il.e  other 

hand,  the  nniver  )"■  the  iin-.vernf  (:,.,!   i  .. 
hascomein  ell...  i      Ti..-  -ir.  „■  ,,    .,   ..,     '            r 

II,  of  God 

,.  eot  this 

world  and  :.iill.   i 

1.  red  and 

bound.     AK.ni, ...                         .      ...             1 ... 

i...u  is  not 

'  i)icite/c/e«.;'. '.'..■'-..,....'".;   '.'.    .......'.    '     ..'.■..'■. 

/;.•„  Dokit. 

inenten  und  hfi  J.-sm,  I'JUo. 

ESCHATOLOGY 


ESCHATOLOGY 


,  hilt  the  presence  of  the  good 
in  power.  Finally,  there  are  the  parables  in  which  the  Kingdom 
is  spoken  of  as  something  growing  in  the  earth  and  therefore 
alreadj-  planted.  Note  especially  the  parables  of  the  Mustard- 
seed  and  the  Leaven.  Here,  indeed,  we  are  left  to  imagine  the 
context  in  which  the  parables  were  uttered,  as  even  Mark(436ff-) 
in  this  instAnce  follows  the  topical  method  of  Matthew,  and 
relates  the  parables  only  as  specimens  of  the  didactic  method 
of  Jesus  (cf.  v.^).  But  may  we  not  reasonably  suppose,  as  in 
the  other  cases,  the  context  of  a  certain  antagonism?  Timid 
followers  come  to  Him  with  a  difficulty  bom  of  vision  and  re- 
flexion :  '  If  Thou  art  He  with  whom  the  Kingdom  comes,  why 
is  the  word  of  the  Kingdom  really  received  by  so  few  who  hear 
it,  or  how  shall  even  the  wonders  of  God  done  in  one  little  land 
affect  the  whole  world  ? '  To  which  Jesus  repUes  in  effect ;  '  Have 
patience,  and  you  shaU  see.'  The  greatest  things  of  the  world 
are  not  always  those  that  give  promise  of  greatness.  They  are 
often  those  whose  beginnings  are  remarkably  small,  and  yet 
connecting  beginning  and  end  is  the  one  power.  If  this  was 
the  occasion  of  the  utterance  of  the  parables  under  discussion 
(and  it  seems  difficult  even  to  imagine  another),  it  is  obvious 
that  both  the  question  of  the  doubters  and  the  answer  of  Jesus 
assume  that  the  constituent  of  the  Kingdom  is  the  supernatural 
Divine  power  before  which  no  opposition  can  stand.  The  ques- 
tion is.  Can  the  power  really  be  present  when  there  is  so  little 
to  show  for  it?  And  the  answer  is.  Yes.  it  can.  The  same 
power  that  begins  with  little  ends  with  much.  We  read  our 
own  thoughts  into  the  simple  intention  of  these  parables,  when 
we  speak  as  if  Jesus  intended  to  teach  that  the  manifestation 
of  the  Kingdom  would  not  be  catastrophic,  but  would  be  a 
matter  of  growth  and  development.  Doubtless  the  parables, 
taken  by  themselves,  are  capable  of  bearing  this  meaning ;  but 
just  this  isolation  of  them  from  the  general  context  of  the 
situation  reflected  in  the  Gospel  history  is  that  of  which  we  must 
beware.  But  there  remains  still  what  is,  apparently,  the  most 
important  passage,  Lk  1720if..  Whether  we  translate  'in  you' 
or  '  among  you '  (i.T»,-  iuSt,  v.21),  Jesus  seems  to  say  very  em- 
phatically that  the  Kingdom  is  present.  On  a  nearer  view 
of  the  passage,  however,  and  a  more  careful  articulation  of 
its  sentences,  this  appearance  vanishes.  V.^i  must  be  under- 
stood in  harmony  with  v,2yff-  (cf.  the  '  lo,  here 'and  the  'lo, 
there'  of  vv.21  2;>).  The  leading  thought  of  the  passage  is  the 
suddenness  (in  the  special  aspect  of  simultaneousness)  of  the 
manifestation  of  the  Kingdom.  The  advent  of  the  great  dav 
shall  be  like  the  lightning  flash,  of  which  you  cannot  say,  •  here' 
or  *  there,'  for  it  is  everj'where  and  all  at  once. 

It  thus  appears  that  there  is  nothing  in  the 
Synoptics  really  antagonistic  to  the  '  escliatological ' 
view  of  tlie  Kingdom.  Tlie  Kingdom  is  not  present 
in  any  .sense  not  reconcilable  with  tlie  fact  that  it  is 
also  and  mainly  future.  No  one  may  understand 
the  Gospels  who  cannot  accept  the  fact  that  in  a 
perfectly  distinct  sense  the  teaching  of  Jesus  was 
not  modern.  It  was  in  the  highest  degree  sane 
and  authoritative,  yet  it  remained  true  to  the 
traditional  view  that  the  Kingdom  would  come  by 
miracle  and  catastrophe.  The  unmistakable  indi- 
cations of  this  are  the  facts  that  the  references 
to  the  Kingdom  in  the  Synoptics  are  prevailingly 
of  futuristic  implication  (on  this  see  Wernle,  op. 
cit.),  and  that  even  in  the  Fourth  Gospel  there 
are  numerous  passages  to  show  that  Jesus  never 
thought  of  the  Consummation  apart  from  the 
transcendent  wonders  of  the  Resurrection  and 
the  Judgment. 

There  was,  however,  one  important  modification 
of  the  traditional  view.  The  Consummation  and 
nipai  •  ■  • 
ed  b 
contained  the  promise  of  a  Messiah.  But  the 
respondences  of  fulfilment  to  projihecy  are  largely 
contrasts,  and  the  impressiveness  of  history  is  per- 
liajis  mainly  due  to  these  contrasts.  The  efforts 
of  tlie  Evangeli.st  Matthew  to  show— sometimes  in 
stiaiiw'ly  far-fetched  ways— that  Jcsii,^  fulfilled  the 
pro,,ln-ir-.  nrr  :.n  i^>tnl^,i^,.  ,„  :,  •„  ,,f  ,1„.  .iiffi- 
ciilli.-   iVlt    l,v   ...,,.,,    :!„■    u,..-'       -,,n-,,M'.     minded 

JCNS^    U.    lvr,,„ril,„_    Ih,.    \].--r.  .    :.    .,:     J      .„,    .vith 

the  t.-tuininy  ..f  [....plMMy.  Ii  ].•...„■.,  -  1  i.iixirtant 
to  inciuiro  h(i\v  in  ,in  csphatdlogical  aspect  Jesus 
conceived  His  own  l\Iessiahship. 

2.  His  Messianic  consciousness.— Of  great  signi- 
ficance in  this  connexion  is  tin-  Ti'mptation.     'The 


all  that  accompanied  it  were  (o  be  mediated  and, 
indeed,  effected  by  Himself.     Prophecy    "  ' 


record  of  this  canmn 
His  own,  and  the  l;i  ■ 
n.arratives   of   the    I!; 
must   be  sought   in 
The  latter,  therefore 


t  cstimony  than 

I  !)'■  1 11  \ I. -I position  of  the 
-111   iji.i    the  Temptation 

Ml  >>iitni<:  consciousness. 
'.  must   try  reverently  to 


conceive.  It  seems  true  to  say  that  the  Tempta- 
tion represents  a  contrast  or  conflict  of  faith  that 
pervades  our  Lord's  entire  ministry  on  earth.  In 
general  it  is  the  contrast  between  God  and  man, 
between  what  is  omnipotent  and  Avhat  is  humanly 
possible  ;  in  particular,  it  is  the  contrast  between  a 
measureless  gift  and  the  definite  responsibility  of 
usin"  it  aright.  Jesus  had  received  a  practically 
limitless  endowment.  He  was  in  the  world  as  God, 
for  He  was  the  '  Son '  of  God  accredited  to  His  own 
consciousness  by  His  Father.  Yet  He  was  flesh 
and  blood,  a  genuine  Brother  of  men.  Each  terra 
of  this  contrast  had  its  own  place  in  the  wUl  of  God. 
It  was  the  task  of  the  Messiah  to  reconcile  them. 
Thus  He  would  do  the  will  of  God.  An  unre- 
strained use  of  this  gift  would  remove  Him  from 
the  brotherhood  of  men  ;  a  refusal  to  use  it  meant 
the  failure  of  His  mission.  How  was  a  superhuman 
task  to  be  done  by  One  who  should  yet  remain  a 
man  ?  The  key  to  this  problem  was  grasped  in  the 
victorious  experience  of  the  Temptation.  What 
the  solution  meant  in  detail  we  learn  from  the 
subsequent  history.  Reading  that  history  in  the 
light  of  the  Temptation-narrative,  we  seem  to 
discern  in  it  two  principles  :  (ri)  the  one  is  the 
principle  of  faith ;  (b)  the  other  is  the  principle 
of  self-sacrifice.  These  two  principles  have,  of 
course,  a  common  root  in  the  one  Alessianic  life  ; 
but  it  is  useful  to  view  them  apart.  The  principle 
of  faith  covers  the  strictly  supernatural  side  of 
the  work  of  consummating  the  Kingdom.  It  is 
the  hope  of  what  GOD  u-ill  do  through  Sis  Messianic 
Son  in  brinqivg  the  promised  Kingdom  from  heaven 
to  earth.  We  cannot  do  justice  to  the  conscious- 
ness of  our  Lord  reflected  in  the  Gospels  if  we 
fail  to  note  the  supremacy  of  this  principle.  If  we 
may  make  for  the  moment  the  distinction  between 
faith  and  dattj,  we  must  find  what  is  at  once  deep- 
est and  loftiest  in  the  consciousness  of  Jesus — not 
in  the  thought  of  wliat  He  Himself  is  to  do  in  the 
fulfilment  of  the  Jlessianic  career  but— in  what 
God  is  to  do  in  Him  and  through  Him.  He  never 
loses  .sight  of  tlie  'one  like  unto  a  son  of  man' 
who  is  til  come  with  tlie  clouds  and  receive  a 
dominion  iiiiivi'isal  ami  everlasting.  The  Messiah- 
ship  is  not  ^ilnlllv  lli^  I'lesent  task.  It  is  His  hope 
for  HiiiiM'lf  ami'ini  tlic  v.oil.l.  The  eschatology 
of  Jesus  is  mainly  Hi-  lio]ii'  of  the  accomplishment 
of  an  act  of  omini-otrm  o,  111  ^\  liirh  God  will  finally 
constitute  the  iie.-.-ianie  I'eijon  and  functions. 
This  hojje  was  necessarily  sliadowy  in  circum- 
stantial outline,  but  it  rested  on  an  absolutely 
substantial  foundation.  Its  foundation  was  the 
presence  of  the  Spirit  that  fell  to  Him  as  the  Son 
of  God.  The  gift  of  the  Spirit,  moreover,  was  not 
simply  the  ground  of  a  hope  that  related  jirimarily 
and  a 
could 
give  to  others  helps  that  were  not  permissible  to 
Himself.  Hence  there  is  a  miraculous  element 
in  the  Messianic  ministry  even  on  earth.  The 
miracles  are  thepremonitory  signs  of  the  final  Mes- 
sianic glory.  Tiiey  are  the  pledge  that  the  Power 
which  will  be  manifested  in  that  glory  is  not  far 
away.  AVhile  these  arjiu'ta  and  Swiixas  abound  in 
the  earthly  ministry,  they  are  always  under  the 
control  of  the  principle  of  faith.  No  one  is  sutt'ered 
to  experience  the  extraordinary  helps  who  does 
not  believe. 

The  other  principle,  resting  equally  in  the  depths 
of  our  Lord's  filial  consciousness,  is  the  principle  of 
self-sacrifice.  It  is  in  the  practical  dominance  of 
this  principle  that  we  may  discern  at  once  the 
originality  of  Jesus  and  tiie  difference  between 
His  eschatology  and  that  of  contemporarj-  Jewish 
faith.  While  He  retains  I  lie  traditional  view  that 
the  Consummation  will  lie  ettected  in  transcendent 
catastrophic  fa.shion, — collapse  of  the  present  world, 


only  to  Himself.     It  was  a  leading  of  duty  j 
power  of  benefit  in  relation  to  others.     He 


ESCHATOLOGY 


ESCHATOLOGY 


531 


appearance  of  the  '  Son  of  Man,'  resurrection,  judg- 
ment,— He  reaches  the  conviction,  possibly  as 
early  as  tlie  time  of  His  baptism,  that  this  Con- 
summation will  not  be  attained  previous  to  His 
own  death  and  resurrection.  How  entirely  this 
conviction,  once  attained,  dominated  His  concep- 
tion of  the  Divine  purpose  and  His  teaching  of  His 
disciples,  may  be  seen  in  the  facts  not  only  that 
in  the  Fourtli  Gospel  the  sacrificial  death  of  the 
Messiah  is  prmhesied  by  the  Baptist,  and  is  a 
matter  of  our  Lord's  consciousness  from  the  very 
beginning  of  His  ministry  (Jn  2""^-),  but  also  that 
(as  regards  the  latter  point)  there  is  little  if  any- 
thing in  the  Synoptic  Gospels  opposed  to  the 
Johannine  view.     This  may  not  decide  the  com 


Messiah  submit  to  a  violent  death,  but  taken 
along  with  the  testimony  of  the  rest  of  the  NT 
(say,  especially,  the  I'auline  and  Petrine  Ep]).)  it 
shows  conclusively  the  practically  predominant 
importance  of  this  event — or  rather  signal  serrirc — 
in  the  mind  and  faith  of  the  Christian  Church. 
For  every  one  text  in  the  Epistles  that  calls  atten- 
tion to  the  glory  of  the  Kingdom  that  is  to  come 
in  the  incomprehensil.de  power  of  God,  there  are 
probably  at  least  two  in  which  the  emphasis  rests 
not  on  the  power  of  God  the  Father,  but  on  the 
love  of  the  Son  of  God.  Indeed,  it  may  be  ques- 
tioned whether  there  is  a  single  reference  to  the 
Consummation  in  the  Epistles  or  the  Apocalypse 
of  the  NT  which  does  not  in  its  immediate 
context  suggest  that  the  centre  of  the  coming 
glory  is  the  Person  of  Him  who  was  delivered  for 
the  offences  of  His  people,  but  raised  for  their 
justification.  Even  in  the  Epp.  to  the  Thessa- 
lonians,  which  are  commonly  supposed  to  represent 
the  most  primitive  type  of  Pauline  doctrine,  it  is 
not  the  '  Kingdom  of  God,'  but  '  His  Son  from 
heaven,'  that  is  to  believers  the  object  of  waitiu"- 
(IThP"). 

This  indissoluble  connexion  between  the  'suffer- 
ings of  the  Christ'  and  the  'glory  that  .should 
follow'  (1  P  1")  could  not  have  been  fixed  so 
securely  in  the  mind  of  the  first  believers  had  it 
not  been  first  in  the  mind  of  Jesus  Himself.  The 
Synoptics  bear  witness  to  tlir  importance  of  the 
connexion  for  Jesus  iml  unly  l.y  reporting  the  pro- 
foundly significant  but  isoiadM  sayings,  Mt  20-" 
26=»'-  II,  but  by  the  very  distimt  \Miy  in 'which  they 
connect  the  critical  incident  of  the  disciples  con- 
fessing their  Master's  Messiahship  with  the  insti- 
tution of  a  new  order  of  lessons,  the  theme  of 
which  is  the  necessity  and  the  near  prospect  of  the 
Messiah's  sufferings  ( 16="^-  ||).  This  representation 
rests  on  a  .sure  basis  of  reminiscence,  and  it  seems 
to  have  a  special  guarantee  in  the  fact  that  the 
teaching  does  not  contain  an  avticiilated  doctrine 
of  atonement  lilve  that  \\-lii<-li  is  r\|.ie^^,i,|  in  the 
Epp.  (esp.  Koniaii,!,  Inn  aim-  raili.Tal  .Apri'ssing 
the  necessity  of  (I,,.  Masiia's  Hillriin,.-  ,„  terms 
that  apply  equally  to  the  aiMi|i|e,  \Jiiiil  I  in^-  the 
distinctiveness  of  the  twosayinj  .  Mi  Jo  I'ti-"'-  ||, 
we  seem  warranted  in  sayiiii;  ilial.  ar.  online;  to 
the  Synoptics,  the  view  of  thinus  ih.al  |iiaeli('.-illy 
determined  the  career  of  Jesus  w-.is  that  the  good 
of  which  He  posses.sed  the  pledge  in  His  unique 
filial  consciousness  would  not  come  during  the 
period  of  His  own  life  on  earth.  The  spirit  that 
brought  help  and  healing  to  others  was,  as  regarded 
Himself,  a  .spirit  of  self-sacrifice.  The  sacrifice 
would  culminate  in  His  death.  But  the  death 
would^  be  momentary.  In  two  or  three  days  (cf. 
Hos  6-)  He  would  rise  again.  Yet  the  momentary 
death  would  not  be  in  vain.  The  death  and 
resurrection  of  the  Messiah  meant  a  conquest  of 
death  for  a  new  believing  Israel.  The  death 
would  be  the  ransom  price  {Xurpoy,  Mt  20=*)  which 


neither  man  nor  angel  could  pay  for  the  soul  of 
a  brother  man.  It  would  be  the  institution  and 
support  of  the  true  and  abiding  temple  of  the 
Divine  presence  (Ex  30""-,  Job  33"*-2^  Ps  49'^-'>. 
See  on  tliis  A.  B.  Bruce's  Kingdom  of  God :  T.  & 
T.  Clark,  1889).  The  thought  of  the  redemptive 
value  of  the  sufferings  of  Jesus  as  the  Christ 
dominates  the  Fourth  Gospel,  most  of  the  Epistles, 
and  the  Apocalypse  of  the  NT.  If  it  is  not  pro- 
minent, it  is  certainly  present,  in  the  Synoptic 
Go.spels.  The  lack  of  prominence  finds  its  explana- 
tion in  the  reserve  that  naturally  characterized 
the  utterance  of  Jesus  regarding  His  own  deatli. 
The  presence  of  frequent  or  elaborate  references 
to  the  matter  in  these  Gospels  would  have  taken 
from  our  estimate  of  their  'objective'  character. 
Jesus  may  well  have  felt  that  the  work  of  the 
Messiah  was  to  die,  not  to  explain  the  consequences 
or  power  of  that  death.  Of  this  there  would  be 
another  Witness.  He  who  sacrifices  himself  com- 
mits his  case  to  God  and  to  posterity.  This 
brings  us  to  another  matter. 

3.  His  view  of  the  time  of  the  Consummation.— 
We  have  seen  that  Jesus  did  not  dissociate  Him- 
self from  the  traditional  view  that  the  end  would 
come  in  the  form  of  a  catastrophic  transformation, 
culminating  in  the  advent  of  the  Messiah  Himself, 
who  would  come  from  heaven.  He  seems  rather 
everywhere,  both  by  the  assumptions  and  by  the 
direct  references  of  His  language,  to  set  His  seal 
to  this  view.  When  we  consider  how  widely  His 
consciousness  of  personal  concern  in  the  accom- 
plishing of  the  Kingdom  must  have  caused  His 
view  of  things  to  ditter  from  all  views  that  were 
by  comparison  tentative  and  theoretical,  and  reflect 
how  much  there  is  in  the  ethical  quality  of  His 
teaching,  particularly  in  the  parables  which  con- 
ceive the  Kingdom  under  the  analogy  of  natural 
growth,  to  suggest  an  ojienness  of  His  mind  to  all 
that  may  be  of  abiding  worth  in  the  modern  idea 
of  evolution,  the  tenacity  with  which  He  adhered 
to  the  catastrophic  view  of  the  final  event  cannot 
but  profoundly  impress  us.  Reverent  investigators 
will  pause  before  accepting  the  conclusion  that  He 
was  in  this  matter  under  some  kind  of  delusion. 
They  will  strive  rather  to  see  in  the  attitude  of 
One  who  was  conscious  of  being  not  .simply  the 
herald  but  also  the  bearer  of  the  Kingdom  of  God, 
a  niodel  for  the  attitude  of  all  who  would  turn 
serious  thoughts  to  the  last  things.  Whatever 
else  we  bring  to  a  study  where  there  is  room  for 
all  knowledge  and  all  thought,  we  must  give  a 
final  as  well  as  a  supreme  and  pervasive  place  to 
the  wonder-working  power  of  the  living  God.  We 
have  sure  ground  in  the  Synoptics  for  saying  that, 
while  Jesus  regarded  the  work  of  His  Father  in 
heaven,  even  in  what  we  call  nature  and  ordi- 
nary providence,  as  wonderful  (Mt  6'-™-  etc.),  this 
did  not  prevent  Him  from  steadfastly  contemplat- 
ing a  final  wonder  of  destruction  and  reconstruc- 
tion which  should  be  the  consummation  of  the 
Kingdom  or  its  perfect  establishment  on  earth. 
Wliile  so  much  is  clear,  there  is  \ery  great  diflliculty 
involved  in  the  question  whetlier  lie  predicted,  so 
definitely  and  unmistakably  as  the  Synoptics  lead 
us  to  suppose,  that  the  final  wonder  would  be 
accomplished  within  the  term  of  the  generation 
then  living.  The  jiroblem  is  not  to  be  solved  either 
by  the  quantitatirc  method  of  coiinting  heads 
(whether  Gospel  texts  or  modern  aii(liorities),  or 
by  the  alternative  method  of  sayini:.  I'alher  He 
was  mistaken,  or  such  texts  .isMh  ',)'  i:i'"||  are 
false  reports.  It  can  hardly  be  doulite.!  tli.it  Jesus 
uttered  words  which  were  naturally  understood,  by 
those  who  heard  them  and  by  others  to  whom 
they  were  reported,  to  mean  that  the  final  wonder 
— the  P.arousia  of  the  '  M.an  '  of  Daniel's  vision  and 
of  age  •  long  expectation  —  would   haiqien  within 


532 


ESCHAT0L0(3Y 


ESCHATOLOGY 


tlieir  owu  generation.  It  is  inconceivable  that  an 
expectation  so  confident  and  definite  could  have 
rested  on  anything  but  a  definite  reminiscence  of 
words  used  by  Jesus  which  seemed  capable  of  only 
one  interpretation. 

Is  it,  then,  possible  to  justify  such  sayings  as  Mk 
9'  13''"  II  apart  from  the  Idunt  avowal  that  Jesus 
laboured  under  an  illusion,  and  that  He  trans- 
mitted the  illusion  to  His  immediate  followers  not 
only  before  but  after  His  death  and  resurrection  ? 
Tins  has  been  felt  to  be  amony;  the  most  difficult 
questions  of  historical  Christology,  and  various 
types  of  solution  of  the  problem  are  still  repre- 
sented by  leading  authorities.  These  may  be 
roughly  classified  under  the  heads :  (a)  prophetic, 
(b)  pictorial,  (c)  realistic.  Under  (a)  would  be 
included  all  theories,  such  as  that  of  Beyschlag, 
which  emphasize  the  fact  that  in  this  instance  at 
least  Jesus  spoke  in  the  manner  of  an  OT  prophet, 
and  that  His  utterance  kept  within  the  limitation 
common  to  all  the  prophets.  This  limitation  re- 
quired Him  to  see  and  amiounce  the  final  .salva- 
tion of  Jehovah  as  about  to  happen  within  a 
measurable  interval  after  the  judgment  (in  this 
case  the  fall  of  Jerusalem)  impending  over  the 
nation.  Under  (b)  would  be  included  theories  of  the 
type  of  Haupt's,  which  emphasize  the  necessarily 
pictorial  character  of  language,  which  must  express 
extra-mundane  realities  in  mundane  forms.  Might 
not  the  assertion  that  the  Son  of  Man  would  come 
on  the  clouds  within  their  own  generation  be  the 
most  eft'ective  way  of  leading  persons  familiar 
with  the  apocalyptic  stj'le  of  language  to  the  per- 
fectly confident  but  also  essentially  spiritual  type 
of  faith  represented  in  the  NT  literature ?  (-)  The 
term  realistic,  finally,  might  describe  all  theories 
whose  tendency  is  to  insist  on  what  has  been  called 
the  'biblical  realism,'  and  to  require  us  to  put 
upon  the  language  of  Jesus  the  most  literal  or 
natural  construction  possible.  The  most  distin- 
guished representative  of  this  type  in  its  bearing 
on  the  present  problem  is  perhaps  Titius.  Titius 
thinks  that  Jesus  must  be  considered  to  have  held 
in  a  bond  fide  sense  the  view  which  His  words 
naturally  express,  viz.  that  His  own  generation 
would  see  the  end  of  the  i)resent  wicked  world  and 
the  establishment  on  earth  of  the  jjerfect  Jieavenly 
Kingdom.  But  His  confession  of  ignorance  as  to 
the  day  and  the  hour  of  tlie  Consummation  (Mk 
13**)  shows  that  He  held  His  own  conviction  in  an 
attitude  of  reverent  submission  to  His  Father's 
will,  which  must  have  made  the  transition  to  accept- 
ance of  the  differing  reality  easy  and  natural. 

It  is  possible  to  incline  to  any  one  of  the  above 
tyjies  consistently  with  a  reverential  appreciation 
of  the  unique  mental  and  spiritual  equipment  of 


Jesus  ; 
found  in  thei 
students  of 
inclined  mo- 
time,  lioweM 
tions  from  I 
apocalyptic  > 
that  more  re 
realistic  chai 
and   utteram 


•aluable 

.11.    Th. 


elements  of   ti' 


laid  to  the 
I'd  the  belief 
is  due  to  the 
:  of  tliought 
variety   and 


On  the  whole,  t 
acillation  of  opinion  suggest  the  likelihood  that 
we  are  not  yet  in  a  position  to  otter  a  solution  of 
the  probleni  that  shall  possess  demonstrable  cer- 
tainty. Our  information  about  Jesus,  while  ade- 
quate for  spiritual  and  practical  purposes,  is 
insufficient  for  the  purposes,  or  at  least  for  the 
appetite,  of  biographical  science.  To  a  great  extent  | 
we  do  not  know,  or  are  only  .slowly  learning, 
either  the  exact  occa.-tions  of  His  utterances  or  the  ' 
amount  of  meaning  they  may  have  conveyed  or  1 
failed  to  convey  to  those  to  whom  they  were 
delivered.      Greater   than   the   lunitation   arising 


from  defective  information,  liecau.-<e  more  intimate 
to  our-selves,  is  that  connected  with  tlie  ina))ility 
of  even  the  modern  mind  to  find  within  itself  a 
measure  for  the  words  of  eternal  life.  To  those  to 
whom  Jesus  was  and  is  the  unique  bearer  of  the 
Kingdom  of  God  both  to  themselves  and  to  the 
world,  it  must  seem  pertinent  to  ask  whether  those 
who  can  never  stand  in  the  centre  of  .such  responsi- 
bilities can  properly  estimate  the  things  falling 
witliin  the  vision  of  the  one  Person,  bearing  our 
nature,  who  did  and  does  so  stand  ? 

Without  presuming  to  otter  a  key  that  fits  the 
lock  of  all  the  critical  difficulties,  the  jrtesent 
writer  ventures  to  call  attention  to  the  view  of 
the  whole  matter  expressed  in  his  Eschatologi/  of 
Jesus  (Melrose,  1904).  While  it  does  not  meet  the 
difficulties  of  those  whose  view  of  the  Person  of 
Jesus  is  frankly  naturalistic,  it  has  some  claim 
upon  the  attention  of  those  to  whom  the  historical 
Jesus  was  the  unique  manifestation  in  the  flesh  of 
the  Power  that  is  directing  human  history  to  its 
goal.  To  those  for  whom  this  conviction  is  fixed, 
the  two  following  considerations  may  perhaps 
appear  of  paramount  importance.  The  one  is  that 
many  of  the  sayings  of  Jesus  must  have  had  a 
certain  elusiveness.  The  mere  fact  that  they  were 
so  habitually  aphoristic  and  pictorial  is  itself 
almost  a  proof  of  this.  Besides  the  meaning 
which  immediately  strikes  us,  there  is  a  reserve 
of  possible  meaning  which  lies  along  the  line  of 
our  vision,  yet  goes  beyond  what  we  actually  see. 
There  is  a  measure  of  this  elusiveness  in  the 
language  of  all  genuine  seers.  Must  there  not 
have  been  an  extraordinary  measure  of  it  in  the 
language  of  Je.sus  ? 

The  other  is  that  the  elusive  language  of  the 
seer  is  not  rfelusive.  '  Jesus  does  not  set  Himself  to 
utter  dark  sayings ;  but  His  practical  instinct 
keeps  Him  from  dazzling  His  hearers  with  an 
excess  of  light.  He  gives  them  all  the  light  they 
can  take ;  but  it  does  not  follow  either  that  this 
is  all  that  fills  the  recesses  of  His  own  spirit,  or, 
on  the  other  hand,  that  in  His  utterance  He  is 
consciously  keepin"  anything  back.  We  must  con- 
ceive the  seer  to  deliver  the  truth  in  the  form  in 
which  it  holds  liLs  mind.  But  the  form  in  this 
case  is  not  the  particular  word  or  image.  It  is  not 
even  so  impressive  an  image  as  that  of  the  Son  of 
Jlan  coming  with  the  clouds  (Dn  7",  cf.  Mk  13=« 
14*-]!).  The  form  concerns  rather  what  may  be 
called  spiritual  emphasis.  It  is  the  exact  poise  of 
the  spiritual  mind  at  the  point  of  self-suiTendering 
trust  in  the  goodwill  and  immediate  action  of  the 
good  God.  For  such  a  mind  the  employment  of 
definite  words  and  images  in  relation  to  the  secrets 
of  the  future  may  mean  no  more  than  a  definite 
certainty  of  new  and  immediate  manifestations  of 
tlic  Divine  pciwer  uiid  love.  They  do  not  neces- 
s.iiily  iiii'.in  :i  ilcliiiilc  realization  of  the  precise  form 
ill  which  (lie  iiKniiifi'station  will  be  made.  It  is 
the  ilcliniti-  ccrt.iiiity,  not  the  indefinite  form, 
whirli  the  w.'hU  :ire  calculated  to  convey.  If  they 
coin.y  c\cM  I.I  His  most  susceptible  hearers  some- 
lliiiiLi  lli.it  i-  ill  one  aspect  more  and  in  another 
less  tliiin  tlii-,  this  is  due  to  the  fact  that  their 
spiritual  poise  is  inferior  to  His.  The  poise  in 
their  case  is  rectified  by  the  subsequent  teaching 
of  the  Spirit  in  the  light  of  events. 


The  idea  of  accommodation  is  no  doubt  auggesl^ed  1 


ESCHATOLOGY 


ESCHATOLOGY 


533 


h    NT  out   de  the  Gosp   s 

n  the    am       a    af 

he  da 

o       he  bod    that 

n     he  o  e     phe  e 


T  e  M  I  el      tl   a    e\ie  tat  o 

vl     1  tl  e  f  1  cl      t     as   ente  ta  ne  1 

va  ot  f  1  lie  1  a  I  yet  fa  tl  n  J  a  I  bel  ef 
in  tie  still  o  „  Con  u  at  n  1  e  1  o  an  1 
live  still.  Our  conclusion  is,  then,  buelly  as  fol- 
lows : — As  a  protest  to  His  own  .people,  Jesus  pre- 
dicted the  downfall  of  the  Jewish  nation  within  a 
measurable  period  (see  esp.  Mt  23  and  24).  While 
in  all  probability  He  depicted  this  catastrophe  in 
colours  that  closely  matched  those  of  the  event 
itself,  the  very  intensity  of  His  concentration  upon 
a  vision  that  might  seem  to  concern  only  the 
Jewish  nation  serves  to  show  that  through  the 
telescope  of  Jewish  particularity  He  was  looking 
out  upon  the  whole  human  world.  His  vision  was 
that  of  One  uniquely  alive  to  the  purpose  of  God, 
of  which  He,  the  Messianic  Son  of  Man,  was  the 
supreme  executor.  It  was  the  vision  of  a  prophet, 
seeing  all  things  in  relation  to  the  Divine  purpose, 
not  the  vision  of  a  mere  politician  or  patriot. 
The  Jewish  nation  was  chosen  to  bless  the  world 
with  the  knowledge  of  God.  Failure  to  fullil  this 
vocation  brought  on  it  the  destructive  wrath  of 
God ;  and  the  condemnation  of  the  chosen  people 
involved  in  an  ol)vious  sense  the  doom  of  the 
world.  That  ignorance  of  God  and  hostility,  of 
which  the  Jewish  obduracy  was  the  signal  ex- 
ample, would  reach  a  climax  in  the  murderous 
death  of  the  Son  of  God.  From  that  moment  the 
forces  of  final  reconstruction  would  set  in.  When 
the  Consummation  would  be  attained,  ivhcn  the 
Son  of  Man  should  come  in  His  glory,  and  all  evil 
and  evil-doers  be  put  away,  no  man  or  angel 
knew.  Not  even  the  Son,  only  the  Father.  But 
this  much  was  certain.  The  power  of  the  Prince 
of  this  world — the  Prince  whose  power  was  mani- 
fest in  sin,  disease,  and  death — was  broken.  The 
proofs  of  that  victory  could  not  be  long  delayed. 
Some  would  live  to  see  signs  of  which  they  had 
not  dreamt,  that  tlie  Kingdom  had  come  in  power. 

This  covers  in  brief  probably  as  much  as  we  are 
able  to  report  of  the  unique  eschatological  con- 
sciousness of  Jesus.  The  account,  however,  would 
not  be  complete  without  a  fresh  reference  to  the 
blank  space  of  our  ignorance.  This  space  we  shall 
enlarge  or  diminish  according  to  our  estimate  of 
the  difference  between  the  area  of  our  knowledge, 
and  that  not  merely  of  the  general  purpose  of 
God,  but  of  the  consciousness  of  Jesus,  the  Son  of 
(iod.  All  men  are  agnostics  in  the  sense  of  ad- 
mitting that  they  have  not  been  made  privy  to 
the  counsels  of  Creation  and  Providence ;  but 
besides  this  common  agnosticism  there  is  a  kind 
peculiar  to  Christians,  which  lireathes  the  spirit 
of  faith  and  reverence.  Chi  i^t  i.ni^  lii'Iic\c  that 
'all  things,"  including  especi;ill\-  huiiLni  .Irstiny, 
have  been  committed  to  the  hnn'.l  ui  .1,  :i^  ( 'Inist. 
In  that  faith  they  can  anticipate  wiLli  cahiiness 


the  worst  tragedies  of  personal  or  social  history. 
They  believe  that  there  is  no  terror  of  the  kingdom 
of  darkness  which  the  Son  of  God  has  not  over- 
come with  the  armour  of  His  holy  light ;  but, 
they  believe  this,  they  do  not  presume  to 
ss,  even  in  the  measure  of  His  Spirit  to  which 
they  have  attained,  a  key  that  ivill  open  every 
secret  that  was  stored  in  the  depths  of  His  person- 
ality, even  while  He  was  on  earth.  The  last 
mystery  to  Christians  is  no  longer  the  mystery  of 
death,  judgment,  and  the  hereafter.  It  is  rather 
the  mystery —which  is  also  the  fact~oi  Jesus 
Christ,  the  mystery  of  the  relation  of  these  things 
to  Him,  or  rather,  perhaps,  of  His  relation  to 
them. 

II.    ESCHATOLOGY   IN    THE   GOSPEL    OF    JOHN.— 

We  pass  by  questions  as  to  the  date  or  authorship 
of  tliis  Gospel.  The  writing  may  be  placed  with 
conlidence  near  the  border  dividing  the  1st  and  2nd 
centuries.  It  does  not  matter  for  our  purpose  on 
which  side  of  the  border  it  is  placed.  To  the  eyes 
of  most  Anglo-Saxon  critics  the  Gospel  reveals 
still  the  marks  of  an  intimate  of  Jesus,  and  with 
them  we  assume  that,  even  in  the  form  in  Avhich 
we  read  the  Gospel,  it  proceeded  from  the  circle 
of  a  '  <Usciplc  whom  Jesus  loved.'  We  assume  also 
— what  probably  no  one  denies — that  there  is  but 
one  mind  between  the  author  of  the  Gospel  and 
the  author  of  the  Epistles  that  bear  the  name  of 
John.  Whoever  was  its  author,  the  Gospel  could 
not  have  reached  so  soon  the  position  of  authority 
it  has  held  in  the  Christian  Church  since  the  2nd 
cent.,  had  it  not  been  considered  to  express  the 
living  and  profound  belief  of  Christendom  regard- 
ing what  was  most  essential  in  the  Person  and 
History  of  Jesus.  This  is  the  matter  of  import- 
ance to  our  present  inquiry.  If  we  find  that  the 
view  of  our  Lord's  eschatological  consciousness, 
which  has  seemed  to  us  to  be  most  reasonably 
deducible  from  the  Synoptic  Gospels,  agrees  on 
the  whole  with  what  is  presented  here,  that  view 
may  be  considered  to  have  behind  it  a  weight  of 
authority  that  could  not  well  be  greater.  For  the 
authority  is  not  simply  the  consciousness  of  an 
inspired  Apostle  or  Apostolic  man ;  it  is  that  of  the 
consciousness  of  the  Church  as  a  whole  at  the 
critical  period  of  the  close  of  the  Apostolic  age. 
We  may  fix  attention  on  three  matters:  (1)  the 
idealizing  style  of  the  Gospel ;  (2)  its  conception 
of  Eternal  Life ;  (3)  its  attitude  to  Eschatology 
proper. 

1.  The  idealizing  style  of  the  Fourth  Gospel. — 
From  the  first  it  has  been  admitted  that,  as  com- 
l)ared  with  the  Synoptics,  this  Gospel  is  one  rather 
of  the  mind  than  of  the  external  actions  of  Jesus. 
Even  the  most  remarkable  external  actions,  the 
miracles,  are  but  'signs'  of  tlie  mystery  that  is 
really  important  to  us— that,  viz. ,  of  the  Person  of 
the  'Son  of  God.'  The  'signs'  are  recorded  that 
we  may  believe  that  Jesus  is  the  Son  of  God,  and 
may  have  life  through  His  name  (20^"'-).  The 
Logos  that  was  '  towards  God  (Trpds  rbv  Bebv)  and 
was  God'  (!'),  was  made  flesh,  and  the  writer  and 
his  companions  beheld  His  glory,  and  reported 
the  vision,  not  .so  much  from  literal  reminiscence 
of  the  acts  and  words  done  and  spoken  by  Jesus 
on  earth,  as  under  the  inspiration  of  the  Spirit 
that  came  according  to  promise  from  the  |)resence 
of  the  Father  and  the  Risen  Ascended  Son.  The 
author  is  concerned  rather  with  the  discourses  of 
Jesus  than  with  His  actions,  and  the  discourses 
are,  we  believe,  not  so  much  reported  as  inter- 
preted. They  are  the  words  of  an  eternal  life  in 
which  the  ,writer  and  his  fellow-believers  share 
(1  Jn  11").  Jesus  is  Himself  the  Word,  the  Truth, 
the  Life.  What  is  told  of  Him  represents  but  a 
few  out  of  many  instances  of  His  self-manifesta- 
tiou.     They  are  like  tlie  sparks  that  witness  tg 


534 


ESCIIATOLOGY 


ESCHATOLOGY 


a  hidden,  mighty,  and  continuous  electric  stream. 
One  consequence  of  this  mode  of  treatment  is  tliat 
there  is  little  in  this  Gospel  to  indicate  that  Jesus 
experienced  anythinL;  of  the  sinless  infirmity  of 
flesh  and  blood.  There  is,  e.g.,  no  suggestion 
that  He  grew  in  knowledge  of  the  path  He  had 
to  tread  as  the  Saviour  of  the  world.  There  is  no 
temptation,  no  agony  in  Gethsemane,  no  ignor- 
ance or  doubt  as  to  the  times  and  seasons  of  the 
Consummation.  The  author  does  not,  perhaps, 
consciously  ignore  these  things,  but  to  mention 
them  is  no  part  of  his  purpose  to  manifest  the 
eternal  life  that  was  in  the  Son  of  God. 

If  such  a  view  of  the  Person  of  Jesus  were  carried  out  with 
rigorous  abstract  logic,  we  should  reach  a  result  that  would  not 
only  be  glaringly  at  variance  with  the  picture  presented  by  the 
Synoptists,  but  would  be  indistint;:uishable  from  the  heresy 
against  which,  at  least  in  its  ^t-ruiinal  form,  the  author  himself 
protests  (1  Jn  222  58),  viz.  that  the  incarnation  of  the  Logos  was 
mere  appearance.  The  point  to  be  observed  is  that  the  view 
is  not  carried  out  rigorously.  The  reason  is  that  the  author 
combines  a  sense  of  history  with  a  sense  of  spiritual  fact.  But 
what  mainly  concerns  him  is  the  spiritual  fact :  what  Jesus, 
who  rose  and  ascended,  is  now  to  His  Church,  that  in  deep 
reality  He  has  always  been.  No  doubt  He  was  truly  human, 
and,  because  Ue  was  so,  there  was  during  His  earthly  sojourn 
real  limitation,  but  the  limitation  was  free  because  self-imposed 
(see,  e.g.,  1018),  and  behind  it  there  was  alwajs  the  Divine 
reality.  He  was  never  other  than  the  Logos,  the  eternal  and 
only-begotten  Son  of  God. 

Even  though  it  be  concedeil,  as  we  think  it  must 
be,  that  neither  as  regards  incidents  nor  discourses 
is  the  Johannine  picture  of  Jesus  so  strictly  his- 
torical as  that  of  the  Synoptists,  it  does  not 
follow  that  it  is  not,  in  another  tlian  the  literally 
historical  sense,  a  deeply  true  picture.  The 
guarantee  of  its  truth  is  the  fact  tliat  the  Chris- 
tian Church  has  accepted  it,  and  in  doing  so  has 
conquered  both  its  own  feeling  of  disappointment 
in  the  delayed  Paroiisia  and  the  unbelief  of  the 
world.  The  Church  discovered,  that  is  to  say,  the 
presence  in  the  mind  and  utterances  of  Jesus  of  a 
quality  of  which  it  had  not  at  lirst  grasped  the 
significance.  His  words  were  '  spirit  and  life ' 
(g63)  They  could  be  interpreted  only  by  His  own 
perpetual  teaching  through  the  Spirit  of  truth 
(16«»-). 

We  may  call  this,  if  we  choose,  the  idealism 
of  the  Johannine  Gospel  and  of  the  early  Church  ; 
but  the  question  is  worth  pondering  wlietlier  any- 
thing less  than  an  idealism  which  rested  on  a  sure, 
if  profound,  basis  of  truth,  could  have  held  the 
Church  to  its  loyalty  to  the  unseen  Jesus  in  face 
of  the  disappointment  of  hopes  which  the  Syn- 
optic testimony,  taken  in  its  natural  sense,  had 
encouraged.  In  any  ease,  the  Johannine  picture 
of  Jesus  may  be  considered  to  .supply  a  striking 
confirmation  of  the  opinion,  already  partly  ex- 
pressed in  this  article,  that  no  amount  of  frag- 
mentary sentences  of  Jesus,  liowever  accurately 
reported,  and  however  definite  their  meaning  may 
be  when  they  are  taken  by  themselves,  can  be  a 
perfect  index  of  a  mind  like  His. 

2.  Its  fonception  of  Eternal  Life. — Every  reafler 
of  John  notices  the  prominence  of  the  words  'life,' 
or  '  eternal  life,'  or  '  spirit.'  The  phrase  '  Kingdom 
of  God' has  practically  disappeared,  and  'life 'or 
'  eternal  life  takes  its  place.  The  fact  is  of  im- 
portance to  us  in  our  jiresent  study,  because  it  is 
the  index  of  John's  way  of  conceiving  what  in 
the  Synoptic  mode  of  speech  might  be  called  the 
present  aspect  of  the  Kingdom.  Jesus  appears  as 
the  possessor  and  even  tlie  direct  dispenser  of  the 
Divine  life.  It  is  given  to  the  Son  to  have  life  in 
Himself  even  as  the  Father  (5™),  and  no  one  can 
come  to  Him  excejjt  it  be  given  him  from  the 
Father  (6*').  Yet  neither  the  Father  nor  the  Son 
dispenses  life  in  its  fulness  till  the  Son  is  glorified 
through  death,  or  returns  to  the  glory  which  He 
had  from  the  first  witli  the  Fatlier  (7^'-').  But  once 
the  life  is  imparted  il  is  a  new  birth  which  carries 


its  own  promise.  It  is,  in  a  proper  sense,  sufficient 
for  itself.  If  a  man  is  born  of  God,  the  Divine 
seed  remains  in  him.    Its  product  is  righteousness. 


begotten  Son  Himself  (3'  9«-  ■",  IJn  3=- »  etc.). 
is  clear  that  this  mode  of  view  brings  the  Divine 
boon  nearer  to  the  individual  heart,  and  necessarily 
alters,  at  least  for  the  individual,  the  perspective 
of  the  eschatology. 

Not  simply  the  great  event  itself, — the  glorious 
Parousia  of  the  Christ, — but  the  events  of  resurrec- 
tion and  judgment  that  accompany  it,  are  regarded 
from  within  ratlier  than  from  without.  Those 
whose  hope  is  set  on  Jesus  do  not  lift  to  the 
heavens  faces  sick  with  deferred  hope.  They  look 
within  and  behold  Him  with  the  vision  of  the  pure 
in  heart.  For  them  Jesus  has  come  alreaily  and 
keeps  coming.  The  supreme  matter  is  to  abide 
in  Him  or  in  His  love  by  keeping  His  words. 
Let  a  man  thus  live  and  believe  in  Him,  and  he 
shall  never  die.  Nothing,  that  is,  not  even  what 
we  call  death,  will  break  the  continuity  of  his  life 
(ipat.)  xhe  water  of  life  that  Jesus  gives  shall 
be  in  him  a  well  of  water  springing  up  unto  ever- 
lasting life  (4").  The  Jut/f/mcnt  similarly  is,  or 
tends  to  be,  withdrawn  from  futurity.  He  who 
believes  does  not  come  to  judgment ;  he  has  passed 
already  from  death  to  life  (5;^  1  Jn  S").  On  the 
other  hand,  he  who  disbelieves  is  condemned 
already.  Life  has  come  to  him,  but  he  chooses 
death  ;  light,  but  he  chooses  darkness.  In  turning 
from  the  only-begotten  Son  of  God  he  puts  from 
him  his  chance  of  being  saved  from  a  Divine  wratli 
already  present  (S'*"-  **)  Until  he  seeks  tlie  Father 
through  Him  who  is  the  Way,  the  wrath  of  God 
abideth  on  him.  Every  thoughtful  reader  of  Jn. 
perceives  that  such  are  the  main  ideas  both  of  the 
Gospel  and  of  the  Epistles.  He  will  hardly  fail  to 
reflect  also  that  these  are,  and  have  remained  ever 
since  the  time  of  these  writings  or  earlier,  the 
vital  ideas  of  the  Christian  Church  in  its  cultiva- 
tion 1  of  individual  and  social  life,  both  on  its 
practical  and|its  meditative  side.— Comparing  the 
Johannine  testimony  with  the  .utterances  in  the 
Synoptic  Gospels — few,  it  may  be,  but  important— 
which  reveal  a  consciousness  in  Jesus  of  a  Kingdom 
of  God  that  is  present  and  not  simply  future,  and 
considering  especially  the  fact  that  in  spite  of 
their  testimony  to  Jesus'  sense  of  the  imminence  of 
a  Kingdom  yet  to  come,  there  is  not  in  the  Synoptic 
Gospels  the  slightest  indication  that  this  tremend- 
ous prospect  at  all  diminished  His  appreciation 
of  the  worth  of  those  ethical  precepts  {e.g.  those 
relating  to  marriage  and  the  parental  relation 
(Mk  lO^f-  7»*-)  that  have  to  do  with  the  secular 
order,  we  shall  hesitate  before  accepting  the  idea 
suggested  by  Joh.  Weiss  [op.  cit.),  that  the  precise 
meaning  of  the  ethical  utterances  of  Jesus  is  to  be 
determined  by  our  knowledge  (?)  of  His  eschatol- 
ogy, and  that  Jesus  would  not  have  spoken  as 
He  does,  e.g.,  in  Lk  14^,  had  He  not  believed  that 
within  a  generation  the  institutions  of  marriage 
and  the  family  would  cease,  and  that  those  who 
should  survive  this  end  of  the  world,  being  '  sons 
of  the  resurrection'  (Lk  '20^'),  should  be  thence- 
forward as  the  angels  {ib.).  In  this  reference  also 
the  Johannine  Gospel  confirms  our  sense  of  an 
element  in  the  equipment  and  outlook  of  Jesus 
to  which  justice  can  hardly  be  done  by  those  who 
lay  unqualifiiMl  ^trp^-';  on  thr  di-itinctively  eschato- 
logical  portions  nt  llic  Syiiii|itic  ( lospels. 

3.  Its  attihnh-  In  E.rh„iuh.,i:i  piopcr.-Yet  it 
has  to  be  o1i-.ct\(mI,  tuially,  that,  while  the  futur- 
istic element  is  not  prominent  in  the  Johannine 
Gospel,  it  is  by  no  means  eliminated.  It  may  be 
felt,  indeed,  that  the  terms  in  which  it  is  expressed 
involve  a  departure  from  (or,  at  any  rate,  a  trans- 
formation of)  the  objcUlce  standpoint  of  the  Syn- 


ESCHATOLOGY 


ESCHATOLOGY 


535 


optics.  The  last  three  words  of  the  phrase,  '  the 
hour  Cometh  ami  iwtv  is'  (S"-'''^').  suggest  a  state  of 
mind  in  which  thii  thought  of  a  future  radically 
or  incalculably  different  from  that  which  is  already 
present  to  the  vision  of  faith,  is  no  longer  keenly 
operative.  The  same  is  still  more  obvious  in  tlie 
Supper  discourse  (chs.  14-16),  in  reading  which  one 
feels  that  the  line  of  distinction  between  the  Lord's 
final  coming  to  receive  the  disciples  to  Himself, 
and  His  "continuous  abiding  with  them  or  visita- 
tion of  them  through  the  comforting  Spirit,  tends 
to  be  a  vanishing  one. 

Yet  it  does  not  follow  that  the  distinctively 
eschatological  utterances  or  references  contained 
in  the  Johannine  Gospel  {e.g.  5'^'-  2r--'-)  are  of  the 
nature  of  a  formally  dutiful  acknowledgment  of 
an  earlier  mode  of  speech  and  a  still  lingering 
form  of  popular  Christian  expectation  correspond- 
ing to  it.  Such  a  view,  at  least,  is  not  an  exhaus- 
tive description  of  the  state  of  the  case.  It  seems 
true  rather  to  say  that  the  futuristic  outlook, 
while  it  lost,  even  within  the  time  covered  by  the 
NT  writings,  its  first  aspect  of  keen  expectation, 
was  yet  to  tlie  last  of  that  period  felt  to  be — what 
it  is  still — an  indisjiensjible  element  of  Christian 
faith.  That  the  iiuitlci-  is  looked  at  from  within, 
and  attention  fastened  not  on  what  is  to  C07)ic  to 
us,  but  rather  on  what  we  arc  to  become  (1  Jn  3-), 
does  not  alter  the  fact  that  the  total  on  which  we 
are  looking  belongs  to  the  future  as  well  as  to  the 
present,  and  that  that  future  is  in  the  wonder- 
working power  of  the  Conqueror  of  death.  It  is 
never  possible  to  neglect  the  aspect  of  futurity, 
and  it  is  sometimes  imperative  to  emphasize  it. 
Such  a  passage  as  1  Jn  2'*  compared  with  Mk  IS'^'- 
shows  significantly  how  much  the  Fourth  Evan- 
gelist, in  spite  of  the  depth  of  his  insight  into  the 
Master's  mind  (or,  shall  we  say,  because  of  that 
insight),  was  to  the  last  influenced  by  the  eschato- 
logical utterances  of  the  Synoptic  testimony.  He 
recognizes  the  antichrists  of  his  own  day,  and  is 
confident  that  it  is  the  'last  time.'  The  21st 
chapter  of  the  Gospel  speaks  similarly  for  the 
attitude  of  the  Evangelist's  circle.  The  chapter 
is  an  appendix,  and  v.~'-  show  what  is  probably 
its  main  motive.  The  aged  Apostle  has  passed 
away,  and  the  question  is  raised.  Did  not  the 
Master  say  that  this  disciple  should  not  see  deatli 
till  He  should  come  in  glory?  The  expectation 
implied  in  the  question  connected  itself  in  all 
likeliliood  with  the  utterance  in  Mk  9^  II.  There 
was  a  general  impression  throu-liont  tlie  Churches 
of  Asi.i  that  -lohii  w.is  (lie  pfisoii  mainly  intended, 
and  a  story  was  ciurciit  t.i  tlie  i-lli'i-t  that  in  pre- 
dicting Peter's  m(Ml(!  of  death  the  Master  had  told 
tliat  disciple  of  the  survival  of  John.  The  author 
of  the  appendix  claims  to  be  in  a  position  to  tell 
the  readers  of  the  Gospel  what  the  Master  had 
realljr  said.  It  was  far  from  being  a  definite 
jiromise.  It  was  only  the  hint  of  a  possibility. 
riie  apology  would  harilly  have  been  deemed 
necessary  if  the  tendency  to  insist  on  a  literalistie 
interpretation  of  the  Synoptic  testimony,  placing 
the  glorious  final  advent  within  '  this  generation,' 
had  not  still  been  prevalent  at  the  close  of  the  1st 
cent.,  i.e.  at  the  time  when  John  died. 

Neither  the  author  of  the  Gospel  and  the 
Epistles  nor  the  author  of  the  appendix  to  the 
Gospel  has  anything  to  object  to  the  probability 
of  an  immediate  Parousia  of  Jesus  in  glory  ;  but 
the  impression  which  their  utterances  leave  upon 
our  minds,  and  wliioli  from  the  first  they  were 
fitted  to  convey  to  the  Church,  is  that  the  contrast 
important  to  the  authors  is  no  longer  that  be- 
tween ]ires(>nt  and  future,  but  rather  that  between 
(Ufl  aiLiI  the  world,  lietween  the  love  of  the  Father 
and  the  lo\e  of  this  present  evil  world.  The 
matter  of  absorliing  interest  is  not  that  the  Son 


of  God  will  come  again,  but  that  He  has  come. 
Life  is  not  movement  towards  a  point  on  a  straight 
line :  it  is  expansion  from  a  centre,  and  because 
the  centre  is  living  he  who  is  at  the  centre  is  also 
implicitly  at  the  goal  of  the  moving  circumference. 

'riie  Evangelist  has  expressed  this  in  very  char- 
acteristic fashion  in  the  closing  words  of  his  prin- 
cipal Epistle  :  '  We  know  that  we  are  of  God,  and 
the  whole  world  lieth  in  wickedness.  And  we 
know  tliat  tlie  Son  of  God  is  come,  and  hath  given 
us  an  understaiuliiig,  that  we  may  know  him  that 
is  true,  ami  we  are  in  him  that  is  true,  even  in 
his  Son  Jesus  Christ.  This  is  the  true  God,  and 
eternal  life'  (1  Jn  5™-)- 

Those  who  find  their  own  consciousness  ex- 
pressed in  such  words,  and  feel  impelled  to  trace 
that  consciousness  to  its  historical  source,  will  not 
readily  suppose  that  they  have  found  the  source 
anywhere  nearer  than  the  consciousness  of  Jesus 
Himself.  Who  but  He  could  have  been  the  first 
either  to  possess  eternal  life  or  to  know  that  He 
'  it? 

LlTEEATURE.— For  the  literature  on  Kschalology  in  general 
or  on  Scriptural  Eschatolofjy  see  the  art.  *  Eschatology '  in 
Hastings'  DB  and  in  Encyc.  Biblica.  It  is  indispensable  for  the 
student  of  the  Gospels  to  understand  the  genesis  and  scope  of 
Jewish  apocalyptic  literature,  and  for  this  purpose  the  Intro- 
ductions in  Driver's  Daniel  (in  the  'Cambridge  Bible  for  Schools 
and  Colleges')  and  Scott's  Revelation  (in  the  'Century  liible') 
will  be  found  sulficient  by  most  English  readers.  Of  German 
works  there  may  be  mentioned,  in  this  connexion,  Hilgenfeld, 
Jiidische  Apokalyptik,  1857  (still  a  standard  work) ;  Gunkel, 
Sahop/uiuj  u.  Chaos,  and  his  Zmti  fe!iiti<"is<i.'^rlin-httiche3i  Vcr- 
sUindniss  des  NT,  1895  and  19u:5 ;  i:  .  i-  ! ,  /^  -   A:'','fhrist,  etc., 

1895,  and  his  Die  jUd.  Apokali/pi  i!\   i •■'  "  d -li  must  now 

be  added  Gressmann,  Der  Wrey;,,.  l.<hntotogie, 

1905.     On  OT  Eschatology  sec  \r,  i  I;    Davidson's 

Theology  of  the  Old  Testaments.  .\  I    i  1 i  i  I ),  ;§  \i.andxii. 

In  regard  to  the  Eschatology  of  ilie  c.os|.cl3  a  good  list  of 
books  will  be  found  in  Motlntfs  Uisluriad  Atuu  Tistamait  {T. 
&  T.  Clark),  p.  639 1 ,  bearing  especially  on  the  theory  of  the 
'  Little  Apocalypse,'  which  many  scholars,  following  Colaiii  and 
Weiffenbach,  suppose  to  be  incorporated  in  Mk  13,  Mt  24.  Be- 
yond the  works  of  Haupt,  Titius,  Job.  Weiss,  etc.,  mentioned  in 
this  article,  the  most  comprehensive  work,  strictly  ad  rem,  is 
probably  Baldensperger's  Das  Selbstbeiuusstsein  Jesu,  of  which 
only  the  First  Part  of  the  3rd  'vollig  umgearbeitete '  edition, 
entitled  '  Die  Messianisch-Apok.  Hoffnungen  des  Judenthums' 
(Strassburg,  1903),  has  as  yet  (1906)  been  published  A  discus- 
sion of  the  matters  speoialh  emphasized  by  Job  Weiss  and 
Baldensperger  will  be  found  in  a  volume  of  the  '  Decennial  Pub- 
lications of  the  Unuersiti  of  C  hicago,' entitled  The  MtsbtaJiio 
Hope  m  the  AT,  h\  Professor  Shailer  Mathevvs,  Chicago,  1905 
See  also  Portei  s  Mtssa(}ts  of  the  Apocalypses,  and  his  art 
•Revelation  in  Hastings  DB  For  illustrations  of  Rabbinical 
views  and  iiiteipretations,  current  more  or  less  in  the  time  of 
our  Lord  see  \  er>  speciallj  the  latest  edition  of  Edershenu  s  Life 
and  fimes  ot  Jet,us  the  Messiah  (London  1  )(H  )  \  1  ii  A]  pend 
ixes  5,  8  9  13,  14,  17  19    also  Weber  s  Ju  /   //     /  I     i /i„', 

1897      In  P  W  Schmidt  3  Die  Gesehichti   I       (II  III/ 

1900),  there  is  a  section  entitled  '  Zukunfts]  ill  t 

which  are  defended  in  vol  li  of  the  sanu  \  il  (1  On  1 
360     Of  older  works  the  following  ma\  I  1      i     \ 

Dorner,  de  Oratwne  Chnsti  Eschatoloqi   i  i 

gart,  1844  ,  Herm  Cremer,  Dio  e'sehat  /i    /  / 

24  and  25,  Stuttgart,  1860,  E  J    MaM;i     / 
eschat   Rede,  Mtth    24  and  25,  1  Theil    I  >     I 
furt  a  0   1857     Rud    Hofmann,  Die  n  a  I 
Zeichen  des  Menschensohns  am  II        ;     (Ml  I       l  t 

Preisschnfl,  Leipzig,  1849   Wil 


Friedberg,  1901      Of  pani) 
tion  to  the  last  nanu  I 
fjiu.nzen  de)    Reden   i 
iTentht  m 'Progrmmt    I 
'  L  enseignement  dt   1 
et  de  PhihMph   lb  111  (i  | 
in  the  same  Review)     km 
pp    lli7-173     Pfleiderer 
24«  '  in  /on 

Jesu    Mtth    24     ib    1801   pp    706-709    Job  W  eiss   '  Die  Com- 
position der  Sj  nop   Wiedcrkunftsrede' m  i/i  1892   pp   '46  270_ 
In  regard  to  the  Tewish  Apocahpses 


Dillmanns  Ethiopn 
on  '  Son  of  Min  as 
Man  Its  Origin  i 
Since  the  ]iiiblicali 


I  this  the  discussion 
1  md  'The  Son  of 
\    P)    pp     212-317 


ESLI 


ETERNAL  FIRE 


See  Muirhead'8  Eschatoloqy  of  Jesus  (Melrose,  1904),  Lecture 
jv.,  and  Kiehm's  Messianic  Prophecy,  2nd  Eng.  ed.  (T.  &  T. 

Clark,  1900)  pp.  354-366.  Lewis  A.  Muirhead. 

ESLI.— An  ancestor  of  Jesus,  Lk  3^. 

ESSENES.— The  Essenes  were  an  ascetic  com- 
munity among  the  Jews,  the  existence  of  which 
can  be  traced  for  over  two  centuries,  from  about 
B.C.  150  to  the  Fall  of  Jerusalem.  For  original 
information  regarding  them  we  are  dependent  on 
Josephus  {B.J  II.  viii.;  Ant.  XVIII.  i.  5,  XV.  x.  4,  5, 
XIII.  V.  9)  and  Philo  (Qtiod  omnis probtts  liber,  chs. 
12,  13,  ed.  Mangey,  pp.  457-459).  Josephus  has 
also  scattered  references  to  individual  Essenes,  and 
the  elder  Pliny  (HN  v.  17)  an  appreciative  notice 
of  them,  for  which  he  was  probably  indebted  to 
Alexander  Polyhistor  and  his  work  '  On  the  Jews.' 
Other  ancient  authorities  are  either  secondary  or 
untrustworthy. 

Josephus  introduces  the  Essenes  as  one  of  the 
three  '  sects  of  pliilosophy '  which  were  influential 
amongst  the  Jews,  the  others  being  the  Sadducees 
and  the  Pharisees  ;  but  from  the  descriptions  given 
of  their  practices  and  organization,  they  .seem  to 
have  corresponded  more  closely  to  a  monastic  order 
than  to  a  sect  or  a  religious  party.  Their  name  is 
probably,  tliough  not  certainly,  derived  from  the 
Aramaic  form  of  the  Hebrew  word  IMsidim  ( '  pious 
ones '),  and  this  already  suggests  a  close  relation, 
especially  in  their  origin,  between  the  Essenes  and 
the  Pliarisees.  Their  numbers  are  estimated  by 
Jos.  (Ant.  XVIII.  i.  5)  and  Philo  at  4000  ;  and  while 
tliere  is  no  evidence  of  their  existence  as  an  order 
outside  Palestine,  within  its  area  they  were  widely 
distributed,  being  found  in  a  great  many  of  the 
villages  and  small  towns,  as  well  as  in  Jerusalem, 
where  there  was  a  'Gate  of  the  Essenes.'  The 
members  of  the  order  were  celibates,  living  in  com- 
munity houses  and  owning  nothing  as  individuals, 
but  ha^ang  everything  in  common.  Tliey  are  ex- 
tolled for  their  piety,  their  industry,  which  was 
confined  to  agricultural  pursuits,  the  simplicity 
of  their  food,  and  their  scrupulous  cleanliness. 
Further  characteristics  of  their  life  were  that  they 
had  no  slaves,  used  no  oil  for  the  purpose  of 
anointing,  dressed  in  white,  and  rigidly  prohibited 
the  use  of  oaths  except  on  the  admission  of  a  new 
member  to  the  order. 

The  order  was  held  together  by  the  strictest 
discipline.  Full  membership  was  granted  only 
after  a  novitiate  of  two  years,  and  then  upon  an 
oath  to  reveal  everything  to  the  members  and 
nothing  to  the  outside  world.  Offenders  against 
the  rules  of  the  order  were  punished  by  exclusion  ; 
and  as  tliey  were  still  held  bound  by  their  vows, 
they  w'ere  unable  to  return  to  ordinary  life. 

What  makes  the  Essenes  '  the  great  enigma  of 
Hebrew  history'  (Lightfoot,  Col."  p.  82)  is  that,  while 
they  are  distinguished  by  exaggerated  adherence  to 
the  Jewish  Law  and  by  special  reverence  for  Moses 
as  lawgiver,  they  betray  at  the  same  time  certain 
ideas  and  prattices  whioli  are  foreign  to  Judaism, 
and  seem  inooiiiipatiblf  witli  its  spirit.  The  indica- 
tions of  incipient  cliiuli^iii  which  maybe  found  in 
their  abstinence  from  marriage  and  in  other  ascetic 
practices,  find  a  parallel  in  their  doctrine  of  im- 
mortality, wherein  they  agreed  with  the  Pharisees 
against  the  Sadducees  as  to  the  immortality  of  the 
soul,  but  differed  from  the  Pharisees  in  denying 
the  resurrection  of  the  body-  And  they  deviated 
still  further  from  orthodox  Judaism  in  the  practice 
of  making  a  daily  prayer  to  the  sun  '  as  if  entreat- 
ing him  to  rise,' "and  in  refraining  altogether  from 
animal  sacrifice.  It  followed  that  they  were  ex- 
cluded from  tlie  services  of  the  Temple.  On  the 
other  hand,  they  were  rigid  bevond  all  others  in 
their  observance  of  the  Sabbath;  and  tliey  went 


beyond  the  Pharisees  in  their  absolute  determinism, 
affirming  '  that  fate  governs  all  things,  and  that 
nothing  befalls  men  but  what  is  according  to  its 
determination'  (Jos.  Ant.  XIII.  v.  9). 

It  is  in  this  apparent  eclecticism  that  the  prob- 
lem of  the  origin  of  Essenism  consists.  While  it  is 
impossible  to  deny  the  Jewish  foundation  on  which 
it  rests,  it  is  equally  impossible  to  overlook  the 
presence  of  foreign  elements.  The  .source  of  these 
has  formed  the  subject  of  endless  discussion,  and 
has  been  found  by  various  writers  in  Parsism  and 
Buddhism  (Hilgenfeld),  Parsism  (Liglitfoot),  Syro- 
Palestinian  heathenism  (Lipsius),  and  Pythagorean- 
ism  (Zeller,  Keira).  But  all  attempts  to  demonstrate 
any  necessary  connexion  or  indubitable  channel  be- 
tween any  one  of  these  and  Essenism  have  failed. 
And  it  remains  either  to  assume  that  foreign  influ- 
ences had  percolated  unobserved,  or  to  suppose  that 
the  characteristic  phenomena  emerged  indepen- 
dently in  Persia,  Greece,  and  Palestine. 

The  Essenes  are  not  directly  referred  to  in  the 
NT ;  but  some  have  without  sufficient  reason 
claimed  John  the  Baptist,  and  even  Jesus,  as 
Essenes.  It  has  also  been  alleged  that  their 
influence  may  be  traced  within  the  circle  of  Chris- 
tian ideas  and  practices.  The  possible  relation  of 
Essenism  to  the  heresy  controverted  by  St.  Paul 
in  his  Epistle  to  the  Colossians  has  been  discussed 
at  length  by  Bishop  Lightfoot  in  his  edition  of  the 
Epistle  (cf.  his  Galatians',  p.  322  ft'.),  and  also  by 
Klopper,  Brief  an  die  Kolosser,  pp.  76-95. 

LiTERATrRE.— Schurer,  HJP  ii  ii.  188  ff.  (with  full  Bibliog- 
raphy): Bousset,  Die  Religion  des  Jttdentums,  pp.  431-443; 
artt.' '  Essenes'  in  Hastings'  DB  (by  Convbeare)  and  in  Encyc. 
Bibl.  (by  A.  JuUcher),  and  ' Essener'  in  PRE3  (by  Uhlhom). 

C.  Anderson  Scott. 
ETERNAL  FIRE.— An  expression  twice  used  by 
Christ  in  reference  to  the  future  punishment  of  the 
wicked.  In  Mt  18'  §\-qdriiiai  (is  rb  vvp  tA  aiiiKioK 
stands  in  contrast  to  cia-eXffe'ii'  ei's  tjjii  fuijv  ;  and  from 
Mt  25^'  we  learn  that  this  eternal  fire,  into  which 
the  wicked  are  to  be  cast,  was  prepared  not  for 
them  but  for  the  devil  and  his  angels.  These  are 
the  only  passages  in  which  the  expression  is  found 
in  the  Gospels  ;  but  equivalent  terms  occur.  In  Mt 
18'  the  eternal  fire  is  identified  with  the  lire  of 
Gehenna ;  and  in  25"  we  have  k-iXacris  oiiii'ios.  In 
Mt  312  and  Mk  9"  it  is  the  unquenchable  fire 
(ia^earov),  and  in  Mk  9*'  Gehenna  is  the  place  of 
punishment  where  their  worm  dieth  not,  koL  t4 
Tvp  ov  (r^evvvrai.  The  wicked  after  their  separation 
from  the  righteous  (Mt  13*--  ^)  are  to  be  cast  into  a 
furnace  (kojuh'os)  of  fire. 

.  A  brief  account  of  the  oririn  of  this  phraseology  will  throw 
light  on  its  meaning.  The  idea  of  punishment  by  fire  comes 
from  the  OT.  The  destruction  by  fire  of  Sodom  and  Gomorrah 
supplied  the  t\'pical  example,  ai 
such  (Dt  2923;  Is  19  1319,  Jer  41 
cf.  such  well-known  NT  passag 
ment  is  spoken  atraiiist  Edont 


thef 


r  examples 


\ .  See  for 
^  lai,  Jer  4* 
s  ■  of  Is  3314 
But  there 
of  the  idea 
ure  world.  According  to  Dt  .32=2  the 
fire  of  Jehovah's  anger  reaches  down  to  Sheol.  Cheyne  finds  in 
Is  .'iOii  and  66^^  a  reference  to  the  punishment  of  souls  in  the 
underivorld  :  but  Salmond  and  A.  B.  Dayidson  see  in  the  latter 
only  the  description  of  a  present-world  penalty :  and 
seems  the  more  natural  interpretation.  This  passage  seems 
to  have  suggested  the 
punishment,  f 


Ezk  2CH- 
refer,  like  the  preccdin 
are  passages  which  at  1 


passage  < 


Jewish  belief  regartling  eternal 


the  Apocryphal  writin 
(Mk  9*7).  The  scene  of  i 
Valley  of  Hinnom,  reu'-'i''* 
account  of  its  Molech  s:u 
burning,   through   which 


,■  Thrist 
ity.  the 


t.  that  a  Arc  was  kept  constantly  burning 
^  the  offal  and  the  dead  bodies  which  were 
too  Late  (*.D.  1200)  to  be  accepted  without 


ETERNAL  FIRE 


ETERNAL  FIRE 


537 


form.    Most  of  the  \ 


;  have  ceased  to  expect  an  equitable 


imagery  of  retribution  to  the  hfe  after  death.  The  Book  of 
Enoch  is  the  j^reat  storehouse  of  teachinij  on  this  subject.  For 
the  impure  an{;rels  and  the  faithless  ani^elic  rulers  an  abyss  of 
fire  is  prepared,  in  which,  .after  the  judgment,  they  will  be 
tortured  for  ever  (!««  i^  18"  iV  i"  .'546  9u24  25).  For  human 
ofTenders,  a  fiery  abyss  is  opened  on  the  right  hand  of  the 
Temple  (9026.  2') ;  this  is  Gehenna.  They  descend  into  'the 
flame  of  the  pain  of  Sheol '  (63i»),  or  into  the  '  burning  fire  of 
Sheol' (103'- 8).  Thus  it  appears  that  the  NT  'eternal  fire'  of 
Gehenna  is  anticipated  in  this  book  :  the  only  difference  being 
that,  while  in  the  NT  the  tire  prejiared  for  the  devil  and  his 
angels  is  identified  with  that  into  which  wicked  men  are  cast, 
in  the  Book  of  Enoch  they  are  always  distinguished. 

Two  questions  arise  regarding  the  nature  of  the 
eternal  lire.  Is  it  material  ?  And  in  what  sense 
is  it  eternal  ? 

(1)  In  many  OT  passages,  even  where  it  is  said 
that  the  fire  is  unquenchable,  and  will  burn  for 
ever,  material  fire  is  undoubtedly  meant,  for  tire  is 
one  of  the  physical  agents  which  God  commonly 
employs  in  His  temporal  judgments,  and  its  burning 
forever  must  refer  to  the  lasting  destruction  which 
it  effects.  Sodom,  Gomorrah,  and  Edom  are  given 
as  examples  of  places  on  which  the  doom  of  eternal 
hre  fell,  and  they  still  bear  its  proof-marks.  But 
in  other  passages  the  literal  sense  cannot  be  main- 
tained, as,  e.g.,  where  God's  anger  or  jealousy  and 
man's  wickedness  are  said  to  burn  like  fire.  Nor 
can  it  be  allowed  in  passages  like  Is  66-^  if  Cheyne's 
interpretation  is  accepted ;  since  undying  worms, 
preying  on  souls  or  bodies  that  are  being  con- 
sumed by  unquenchable  lire,  is  an  impo.ssible  idea. 
In  the  NT,  as  we  have  seen,  Christ  drew  largely 
on  OT  imagery  in  speaking  of  the  'last  things.' 
But  the  whole'  drift  of  His  interpretation  of  jiro- 
phetic  language  is  at  variance  with  the  literal 
sense  of  the  fire  penalty.  Wliat  He  gives  in  His 
eschatological  teaching  is  not  a  dogmatic  but  an 
imaginative  presentation  of  the  truth ;  and  the 
imagery  He  employs  belongs,  not  to  the  substance, 
but  to  the  form  of  His  thought.  The  prophet, 
like  the  poet  and  the  artist,  must  present  the 
future  in  terms  and  forms  borrowed  from  present 
experience,  and  the  underlying  truth  must  be 
spiritually  discerned.  If,  as  Christ  tells  us,  tlie 
eternal  ftre  was  prepared  for  the  devil  and  his 
angels,  it  cannot  be  material  fire  ;  for  .spirits  can- 
not undergo  physical  torture.  * 

Death  by  fire  was  the  severest  penalty  under 
the  Jewish  law,  and  as  it  was  inflicted  only  for 
the  most  shameful  sins  (Lv  SO"  21»,  Jos  7-=),  a 
peculiar  infamy  was  associated  with  it.  Christ, 
therefore,  when  He  employed  this  imagery  in  speak- 
ing of  the  doom  of  the  wicked,  intended  to  warn 
men  that  God  has  attached  a  terrible  retribution 
to  sin.  At  the  very  least  it  signifies  an  ordeal  of 
suffering  analogous  to  that  which  hre  causes  in  the 
living  tissues.  To  the  question.  How  will  the 
suftering  be  caused?  Scripture  gives  only  the 
figurative  answer,  'as  by  fire.'  Bp.  Butler  (Anal. 
pt.  ii.  ch.  V.)  thought  t"liat  it  might  come  in  the 
way  of  natural  consequence,  without  any  direct 
infliction  on  the  part  of  God.  Sin,  whicii  yields 
pleasure  here,  becomes  misery  there  without  chang- 
ing its  nature,  through  the  natural  working  of 
moral  law.  The  agony  of  remorse,  which  some- 
times overwhelms  the  sinner  in  this  life,  has  been 

^  Yet  the  contrary  has  been  maintained  on  high  authority. 
Augustine  held  that  the  fire  \ya3  material,  and  that  spirits  may 
he  tortured  by  it,  since  it  is  always  the  mind  and  not  the  body 
that  suffers,  even  when  the  pain  oriL'inates  in  the  body.  He 
also  suggests  that  devils  may  have  bodies  made  of  air,  'like 
what  strikes  us  when  the  wind  blows,  and  thus  he  liable  to 
sutfering  from  fire'  (de  Cimt.  xxi.  3,  9,  10).  Th.  Aquinas  held 
that  the  fire  is  material  (Summa  Tlieot.  pt.  iii.  supplmt.  Ixx.  3). 
And  in  our  own  day  Ed.  White  inclines  to  the  view  that  the 
wicked  before  extinction  will  be  punished  bv  material  fire  (Life 
HI  CAraf,  p.  .■552).  '^  ' 


regarded  as  a  foretaste  of  the  eternal  fire.  The 
pif)ia  (/am III,  or  the  consciousness  of  being  for  ever 
cut  oil'  from  the  .sight  of  God,  the  only  satisfying 
good,  will  be,  it  has  been  said,  intense  sutt'ering  as 
by  fire,  when  the  distractions  of  the  world  have 
ceased  to  dazzle.  And  these  will,  doubtless,  be 
elements  in  the  retribution.  But  if  this  were  all, 
a  possible  consequence  would  be  that  tlie  penalty 
would  fall  most  lightly  on  the  most  degraded.  A 
soul  that  can  be  made  miserable  through  remorse, 
or  the  conscious  loss  of  God's  presence,  has  not 
reached  the  lowest  stage  of  hardening ;  while  ex- 
perience tells  us  that  those  who  have  reached  tliis 
stage  are  least  liable  to  suffering  from  such  a 
source.  In  them  remorse  can  be  awakened,  not 
by  the  poena  c/aimii,  but  by  suffering  externally 
caused.  And  the  language  of  the  NT  suggests  that 
in  the  future  world  an  environment  is  prepared, 
with  its  appropriate  agencies  and  influences,  for 
the  punishment  of  those  who  are  morally  and 
spiritually  dead.  Such  expressions  as  'Depart 
into  the  eternal  fire,'  'shall  be  cast  into  the  lake 
of  fire,'  etc.,  clearly  presuppose  such  an  environ- 
ment, one  in  which  the  least  worthy  shall  sutt'er 
the  most,  '  be  beaten  with  many  stripes.' 

(2)  Whi/  is  the  fire  called  eternal  ?— In  Mt  25"-«« 
the  adjective  oWnos  is  used  with  reference  to  '  the 
fire,'  '  punislnnent,'  and  'the  life,'  and  no  satisfying 
reason  has  been  given  for  saying  that,  as  regards 
the  first  two,  it  means  '  time  limited,'  and,  as 
regard.s  the  last,  '  time  unlimited.'  If  Christ's 
purpose  had  been  to  call  attention  to  the  duration 
of  each,  then  '  endlessness '  is  the  idea  emphasized. 
But,  except  where  tliis  word  or  its  Hebrew  equi- 
valent is  applied  to  objects  that,  for  the  nonce, 
are  invested  with  a  quasi-etemitv  (Lv  3",  Gn  17" 
49""),  it  takes  us  into  a  sphere  of  being  to  which 
tirne  measurements  are  inapplicable,  and  in  whicli 
objects  are  presented  in  their  relation  to  some 
eternal  aspect  of  the  Divine  nature.  Thus  eternal 
life  does  not  mean  natural  life  prolonged  to  in- 
finity ;  such  a  life  might  be  lived  without  any  ex- 
perience of  the  eternal  life,  which  signifies  life  in 
fellowship  with,  or  that  partakes  in,  the  eternal 
life  of  God.  God's  relation  to  believers  is  .such  that 
between  them  and  Him  there  is  a  community  of 
life.  Eternal  fire,  on  the  otiier  hand,  figuratively 
expresses  the  truth  that,  God'.s  nature  being  what 
it  is,  there  must  be,  under  any  economy  over 
which  He  presides,  a  provision  for  the  adequate 
punishment  of  sin.  The  eternal  fire  is  such  a  pro- 
vision, and,  being  eternal,  it  can  be  no  mere  tem- 
porary contrivance  for  tiding  over  an  emergency, 
but  must  be  the  retributive  aspect  of  the  Divine 
holiness.  God  is,  was,  and  ever  shall  be  a  consum- 
ing fire  in  relation  to  sin  unrepented  of  ;  this  is  His 
unchanging  and  unchangeable  attitude.  Some  of 
tlie  OT  saints  were  all  their  lifetime  subject  to 
bondage  through  fear  of  death,  for  to  them  Sheol 
(Is  38)  was  a  place  where  all  life  in  fellowshi))  with 
God  was  lost.  But  suppose  that  their  worst  fears 
had  been  realized,  it  would  still  have  been  true 
that  they  liad  had  a  passing  experience  of  the  life 
eternal.  And  similarly  if,  after  ages  of  suffering, 
the  wicked  were  to  cease  to  be,  it  would,  none  the 
less,  be  true  of  them  that  they  had  been  cast  into 
the  eternal  fire.  In  Sodom,  (fomorrali,  Edom,  etc., 
we  have  examples  of  what  is  Tjicaiit  liy  'sufiering 
the  doom  of  eternal  fire' ;  but  this  doi's  nut  mean 
that  ever  since  the  lire  destinytMl  the  citii's  their 
inhabitants  have  been  enduring  its  pains.  Eternal 
fire  may  or  may  not  mean  everlasting  suffering  in 
it  (see  artt.  Eternal  Punishment  and  Retribu- 
tion). 

LiTBRATBRE.— Origen,  de  Prineip.  ii.  x.  4-8,  c.  Cels.  iv.  13,  v.  IB ; 
Lactantius,  Inst.  vii.  21,  26 ;  Augustine,  Ae  Cii>.  bk.  xxi.,  Ench. 
oxi.-cxiv.,  de  Gent.  Pelag.  10,  11 ;  T.  Burnet,  Coneeming  the 
State  of  Departed  Souls,  1738 ;   Matt.  Horhery,  Duration  of 


ETERNAL  LIFE 


ETERNAL  LIFE 


Future  PuiiMment.  1744:  ,1.  A-ar  Ueet.  The  Last  Thiiim^; 
K.  H.  Charles,  TAe  B....A  .cat  Hilary  of  the 

D<jctrine  <ifa  Futurn  I.  ■■  Eternal  Saeiour 

Judije ;  H.  Constable,  1'  uishment ;  J.  Fyfe, 

The  Hereafter;  ,T.    \V.   I,:.  ,    i: .  s.nA  Mercy  and 

Judgment:  Salmond,  CVi. . i--  j  linimrtalUy;  H.N. 

0\enhani,  Catholic  Eschatobyy  :  E-  B.  I'use.v,  What  is  of  Faith 
as  to  Eoertastiitg  Punishment);  Ed.  White,  Life  in  Christ. 
See  also  Literature  at  end  of  art.  Ebtributios. 

A.  BiSSET. 

ETERNAL  LIFE. — Tliis  phrase  occurs  more  than 
forty  times  in  the  New  Testament.  In  many  pas- 
.sages  it  denotes  primarily  a  present  possession  or 
actual  experience  of  the  Christian  believer,  while 
in  others  it  clearly  contemplates  a  blessed  life  to 
come,  conceived  as  a  promised  inheritance.  The 
Greek  expressions  are  s"'"')  aiuiviat,  v  oi'iinoi  j-ui;  (Jn 
17',  1  Ti  6'=),  i)  fwrj  V  aiiii/ios  (1  Jn  1-).  The  word 
'life,'  or  'the  life'  (fu^,  ii  fu^),  without  the  quali- 
fying adjective  'eternal,'  is  often  employed  in  the 
same  general  meaning. 

There  are  passages  in  the  Synoptic  Gospels  in 
which  the  phrase  'eternal  life'  is  used  synony- 
mously and  interchangeably  with  '  the  kingdom 
of  God'  (Mk  9«--",  Mt  7"-=').  The  Ivingdom  of 
heaven  and  the  life  eternal  are  very  closely  related 
in  the  teaching  of  Jesus.  Compare  also  the  sug- 
gestive language  of  Ilo  5"  'shall  reign  iu  life 
through  Jesus  Christ.'  But  it  is  especially  in  the 
writings  of  St.  John  that  we  find  'eternal  life' 
presented  as  a  heavenly  boon  which  may  become 
the  actual  possession  of  believers  in  the  present 
life.  God  Himself  is  the  source  of  all  life,  and  '  as 
tlie  Father  hath  life  in  himself,  even  so  gave  he  to 
the  Son  also  to  have  life  in  himself '  ( Jn  o-^).  In 
the  Word  '  which  became  flesh  and  dwelt  among 
us'  there  was  a  visible  manifestation  of  the  life 
eternal :  '  In  him  was  life ;  and  the  life  was  the 
light  of  men'  (l*) ;  so  that  He  Himself  declares,  '  I 
am  the  way,  and  the  truth,  and  the  life'  (14*).  In 
accord  with  these  statements  the  very  life  of  God 
is  conceived  as  begotten  in  the  believer  by  the 
Holy  Spirit,  so  that  he  is  '  born  anew,'  '  born  from 
above'  (S'-').  Thus  begotten  of  God,  the  diildren 
of  God  become  distinctly  manifest,  and  God's 
'seed  abideth  in  them'  (1  Jn  3»- ").  That  is,  in 
these  Divinely  begotten  children  of  God  there 
abides  the  imperishable  germ  {(nripfia)  of  life  from 
above,  the  eternal  kind  of  life  which  the  twice 
born  possess  in  common  with  the  Father  and  the 
Son.  Hence  it  is  that  the  believer  '  hath  eternal 
life '  as  an  actual  possession  (Jn  3^).  He  '  hath 
passed  out  of  death  into  life '  ( Jn  5^,  1  Jn  3"). 

In  Jn  17^  we  read  what  has  to  some  extent  the 
manner  of  a  definition  :  'This  is  life  eternal,  that 
(IVa)  they  should  know  thee  the  only  true  God,  and 
iiim  whom  thou  didst  send,  even  Jesus  Christ.' 
So  far  as  this  text  furnishes  a  definition,  it  seems 
clearly  to  imply  that  '  eternal  life'  consists  in  such 
a  knowledge  of  God  and  of  Christ  as  involves  a 
personal  experience  of  vital  fellowship.  It  carries 
with  it  the  love  and  obedience  which,  according 
to  Jn  14=s,  bring  the  Father  and  the  Son  into  the 
believer's  inmost  life,  so  that  they  '  make  their 
abode  with  him.'  In  view  of  the  use  of  iva  in  4^ 
IS'''  18"  we  need  not  refine  so  far  as  (with  Westcott 
on  this  passage)  to  maintain  that  the  connective 
here  retains  its  telic  force  and  indicates  an  aim 
and  an  end,  a  struggle  after  increasing  knowledge 
rather  than  the  attainment  of  a  knowledge  already 
in  possession.  But  it  should  not  be  supposed  that 
any  present  knowledge  of  God  and  of  Christ  is 
inconsistent  with  incalculable  future  increase. 
While  the  essence  of  this  Divine  life  consists  in 
the  knowledge  of  the  only  true  God  and  His 
anointed  Son,  such  knowledge  is  not  the  whole 
of  eternal  life,  for  other  ideals  with  their  addi- 
tional content  are  also  set  before  us  in  the  teaching 
of  Christ  and  of  His  .\postles.  Whatever  else  is 
true  touching  this  saving  knowledge  of  the  true 


God,  its  present  possession  is  one  of  the  great 
realities  in  the  personal  experience  of  the  believer. 
In  1  Jn  5""'^  the  gift  and  actual  possession  of  this 
eternal  kind  of  heavenly  life  are  made  emphatic  : 
'  God  gave  unto  us  eternal  life,  and  this  life  is  in 
his  Son.  He  that  hath  the  Son  hath  the  life  ;  he 
that  hath  not  the  Son  of  God  hath  not  the  life.' 
This  language  is  incompatible  with  the  thought 
that  the  '  eternal  life  '  spoken  of  is  merely  a  pro- 
mise, a  hope  or  an  expectation  of  such  life  in  a 
future  state,  as  some  of  the  older  expositors  main- 
tained. 

This  heavenly  kind  of  life  in  Christ,  conceived  as 
a  present  experience  of  salvation,  is  further  con- 
firmed and  illustrated  by  what  Jesus  said  of  Him- 
self as  'the  bread  of  life'  and  the  giver  of  the 
water  that  springs  up  into  eternal  life.  We  have, 
no  doubt,  the  enigmatical  words  of  profound  mysti- 
cism in  Jn  6^"^.  Jesus  declares  that  He  is  '  the 
bread  of  life,'  wliicli  '  giveth  life  unto  the  world.' 
'I  am  the  living  Imad  which  came  down  out  of 
heaven  :  if  any  iiiuii  cut  ..t  t  ln^  liread,  he  shall  live 
for  ever:  yea,  ami  llic  Lic^id  wliich  I  will  give  is 
my  flesh,  for  the  lile  ut  tUu  world.'  'Except  ye 
eat  the  flesh  of  the  Son  of  man  and  drink  his  bloo'd, 
ye  have  not  life  in  yourselves.  He  that  eateth  my 
flesh  and  driiiketh  my  blood  hath  eternal  life  :  and 

1  will  raise  him  up  at  the  last  day.'  '  He  that 
eateth  my  flesh  and  drinketh  my  Ijlund  ala.lcth  in 
me,  and  I  in  him.'  '  He  that  eateth  lue  >liall  live 
because  of  me.'  '  He  that  eateth  tliis  bicad  >hall 
live  for  ever.'  These  emphatic  repetitions  of  state- 
ment would  seem  to  put  it  beyond  all  question 
that  their  author  meant  to  teach  that  the  Son  of 
God,  sent  V)y  the  living  Father,  '  lives  because  of 
the  Father,  and  imparts  the  eternal  life  of  the 
Father  to  every  one  who  believes  in  Him.  Of  this 
living  bread  the  believer  now  partakes,  and  '  hath 
eternal  life' (vv."-").  This  liie  also  is  conceived 
as  attaining  a  certain  goal,  or  receiving  a  definite 
consummation  'at  the  last  day.'  For  it  is  a  per- 
manent possession,  and  of  a  nature  to  advance 
from  strength  to  strength  and  from  glory  to  glory. 
The  eating  the  flesh  and  drinking  the  blood  of  the 
Son  of  Man  have  been  thought  by  some  expositors 
to  refer  to  the  partaking  of  the  body  and  blood  of 
Christ  in  the  sacrament  of  the  Lord's  Supper  ;  but 
such  a  reference  to  an  institution  not  yet  estab- 
lished, and  utterly  unknown  to  His  Jewish  oppo- 
nents, would  have  been  strangely  irrelevant.  The 
life  eternal  into  which  the  believer  enters  involves, 
as  matter  of  course,  all  due  allowance  for  Divinely 
appointed  conditions,  aids,  provisions  and  means  of 
nourishing  the  life  itself  ;  but  to  exalt  these  unduly 
is  to  divert  the  thought  from  the  more  central  ami 
profound  mystic  conception  of  Christ  Himself  as 
the  life  of  the  world.  So  the  remarkable  sajings 
of  Jesus  in  the  synagogue  at  Capernaum,  recordeil 
in  Jn  6'-'^^  are  but  another  form  and  a  mystic 
expression  of  His  emphatic  declaration  in  5^  '  He 
that  heareth  my  woid,  and  believeth  him  that  sent 
me,  hath  eternal  life,  and  cometh  not  into  judg- 
ment, but  hath  passed  out  of  death  into  life.' 

The  exact  meaning  of  the  word  '  eternal,'  when 
used  to  qualify  '  the  life,'  is  best  understood  when 
the  life  is  conceived  as  issuing  from  the  eternal 
Father,  and  so  partaking  of  His  Divine  nature  (cf. 

2  P  1*).  Having  life  in  Himself,  and  giving  to  His 
Son  to  have  life  in  Himself  ( Jn  5^),  He  imparts  the 
same  life  to  all  who  believe  in  the  Son ;  and  that 
life  is  in  its  nature  eternal  as  God  Himself.  It  is 
an  eternal  kind  of  life  which  belongs  to  the  unseen 
and  imperishable  things  (cf.  2  Co  4'*).  In  the 
Johannine  writings  the  word  'life'  or  'the  life,' 
and  the  phrase  'eternal  life,' are  used  interchange- 
ably. The  latter  is  the  more  frequent  form  of 
expression,  but  it  is  evident  that  the  writer  often 
employs  '  the  life '  in  the  same  sense.     This  life  is 


ETERNAL  LIFE 


ETERNAL  LIFE 


si5oken  of  in  contrast  with  '  death  '  and  '  perishing.' 
The  believer  '  sliall  not  perisli,  but  have  eternal 
life '  (3"),  '  hath  passed  out  of  the  death  into  the 
life '  (S^''),  '  shall  never  see  deatli,'  nor  '  taste  of 
death '  (8^'-  ^\  '  shall  never  perish '  (10=8).  He  who 
has  not  tlie  life  is  in  a  condition  of  spiritual  death, 
and  must  perisli  unless  he  receive  the  life  of  God, 
the  eternal  kind  of  life,  which  has  been  manifested 
in  Christ.  In  these  and  other  similar  passages  life 
and  death  are  not  to  be  understood  as  identical  in 
meaning  with  existence  and  non-e.\istence.  The 
|)erson  who  has  passed  out  of  death  into  life  had 
existence  before  the  new  life  came,  and  such  exist- 
ence, in  estrangement  from  God  and  in  disobedi- 
ence of  the  gospel,  may  be  perpetuated  in  '  eternal 
destruction  from  the  face  of  the  Lord '  (2  Th  1"). 
So  the  '  death,'  which  those  who  '  jjerish '  taste, 
need  not  be  understood  as  annihilation,  or  utter 
extinction  of  being.  As  '  the  death '  is  a  condition 
of  moral  and  spiritual  destitution  in  which  one  has 
no  fellowship  with  God,  so  '  the  life'  is  the  blessed 
experience  of  fellowship  and  union  with  Clirist  as 
vital  as  that  of  the  branch  and  the  vine.  And 
this  participation  in  the  very  nature  of  the  Eternal 
God  is  the  essence  of  the  '  life  eternal.' 

In  the  writings  of  St.  Paul  we  also  find  a  mystic 
element  in  whicli  we  note  the  concept  of  eternal 
life  as  a  present  possession.  The  exhortation  to 
'lay  hold  on  the  life  eternal,'  and  the  designation 
of  it  as  '  the  life  which  is  life  indeed '  (17  ti/rui  fwij, 
1  Ti  6'"  '»),  may  refer  either  to  the  present  or  tlie 
future  ;  but  when  the  Apostle  speaks  of  believers 
as  made  alive  and  risen  with  Christ,  and  sitting 
with  Him  in  the  heavenlies  (Eph  '2^- ''),  he  implies 
a  fruition  that  was  already  realized.  It  involved 
a  positive  experience  like  tliat  in  which  '  the  law 
of  the  Spirit  of  life  in  Christ  Jesus  made  him 
free  from  the  law  of  sin  and  of  death'  (Ro  8-). 
He  also  has  a  wonderful  appreciation  of  the 
heavenly  illumination  which  '  shined  in  our  hearts 
to  give  the  light  of  the  knowledge  of  the  glory  of 
God  in  the  face  of  Jesus  Christ'  (2  Co  4'=).  'fhis 
surpassing  light  is  conceived  by  the  Ajjostle  as  a 
product  of  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord,  and  a  reflexion 
of  the  glory  of  Christ  as  seen  in  the  mirror  of  His 
gospel.  In  that  mirror  the  believer  beholds  the 
glory  of  his  Lord  reflected,  and  by  the  power  of 
the  heavenly  vision  he  is  '  transformed  into  the 
same  image '  (2  Co  3"-  "*).  The  Johannine  doctrine 
of  '  passing  out  of  death  into  life '  is  conceived  by 
St.  Paul  as  a  dying  unto  sin  and  being  made  alive 
unto  God  in  Christ  Jesus.  The  believer  is  '  alive 
from  the  dead '  and  '  walks  in  newness  of  life '  {Eo 
6'"'^).  He  has  been  '  crucified  with  Christ :  and  it 
is  no  longer  I  that  live,  but  Christ  liveth  in  me  ; 
and  that  life  which  I  now  live  in  the  flesh  I  live  in 
faith,  wliich  is  in  the  Son  of  God'  (Gal  2-").  And 
so  in  Pauline  thought  the  spiritual  life  of  faith, 
enjoyed  in  fellowship  with  God  and  Christ,  is  a 
'life  hid  with  Christ  in  God'  (Col  3»),  and  'the 
free  gift  of  God'  (Ro  6-^).  This  conception  is  in 
essential  harmony  with  the  doctrine  of  St.  John. 
Eternal  life  is  in  its  inmost  nature  the  free,  pure, 
permanent  spiritual  life  of  Christlikeness.  It  is  a 
present  possession,  a  glorious  reality,  a  steadfast- 
ness of  conscious  living  fellowship  with  the  Eternal 
Father,  and  with  His  Son,  Jesus  Christ. 

But  in  all  the  Gospels  and  in  tlie  Epistles  we 
also  find  eternal  life  contemplated  as  a  future 
glorious  inheritance  of  the  saints.  In  St.  John's 
Gospel  the  '  eternal  life '  which  the  believer  now 
'hatli'  is  destined  to  attain  a  glorious  consumma- 
tion in  the  resurrection  '  at  the  last  day '  (5*"- "). 
For  Jesus  is  Himself  the  resurrection  as  well  as 
the  life,  and  declares  :  '  He  that  believeth  on  me, 
though  he  die,  yet  shall  he  live  ;  and  whosoever 
liveth  and  believeth  on  me  shall  never  die  '  (W-'^-  ^). 
Such  a  life  must  needs  abide  in  eternal  permanence. 


Jesus  sjioke  of  '  the  water  of  life '  which  becomes 
in  him  who  drinks  it  '  a  fountain  of  water  spring- 
ing up  into  eternal  life '  (4").  He  six)ke  of  food 
'which  abideth  unto  life  eternal,'  and  of  'gather- 
ing fruit  unto  life  eternal'  (4^'*  6-').  In  all  the 
Gospels  He  is  represented  as  teaching  that '  he  that 
lovetli  [oc  findetli,  .so  Synopt.]  his  soul  loseth  it; 
and  he  tliat  hateth  [ur  loseth]  his  soul  in  this  world 
shall  keep  it  unto  life  eternal.'  We  read  in  Mk 
lO'-"-  ™  '  There  is  no  man  that  liatli  left  house,  or 
brethren,  ...  or  lands,  for  my  sake  and  for  the 
gospel's  sake,  but  he  shall  receive  a  hundredfold 
now  in  this  time,  .  .  .  and  in  the  age  to  come  life 
eternal '  (cf.  Mt  19-'-'  and  Lk  IS^"- »").  These  Gospels 
also  speak  of  eternal  life  as  an  inheritance  to  be 
received  at  a  future  day  (Mt  19'«,  Mk  10",  Lk  10=' 
18'*).  Such  contrast  of  '  this  time,'  '  tliis  world,' 
'  on  the  earth '  with  '  the  age  to  come,'  and  '  in 
heaven,'  implies  possessions  in  some  other  age  or 
world  beyond  the  present.  In  the  picture  of  the 
Judgment  (Mt  25^'"^''),  the  righteous  who  go  '  into 
eternal  life'  are  said  to  'inherit  the  kingdom  pre- 
pared for  them  from  the  foundation  of  the  world,' 
and  to  enter  into  the  joy  and  glory  of  the  King 
Himself. 

This  idea  of  eternal  life  as  a  glorious  future  in- 
heritance finds  also  frequent  expression  in  the 
Epistles.  Those  who  '  by  patience  in  well-doin" 
seek  for  glory  and  honour  and  immortality '  shall 
receive  eternal  life  as  a  reward  of  the  righteous 
judgment  of  God  (Ro  2').  All  who  are  made  free 
from  sin  and  become  servants  of  God  '  have  their 
fruit  unto  sanctification,  and  the  end  life  eternal ' 
(Ro  5='  6~).  In  the  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews  (1"  9"^) 
we  read  of  '  them  that  shall  inherit  salvation,"  and 
of  them  that  '  receive  the  promise  of  the  eternal 
inheritance.'  In  1  P  I''  the  writer  tells  his  readers 
that  God  has  begotten  them  unto  a  living  hope, 
'unto  an  inheritance  incorruptible,  and  uiideliled, 
and  that  fadeth  not  away,  reserved  for  them  in 
heaven.'  According  to  all  these  scriptures,  eternal 
life  is  begotten  in  the  Christian  believer  by  the 
Holy  Spirit  of  God,  and  is  to  be  perpetuated 
through  the  ages  of  ages.  It  is  eternal  in  quality 
as  bein<'  a  participation  in  the  Divine  nature  of  the 
EternalOne,  and  eternal  in  duration  as  continuing 
for  ever  and  ever.  It  is  a  possession  of  manifold 
fulness,  and  is  conditioned  in  a  character  of  god- 
likeness,  which  '  has  the  promise  of  the  life  that  now 
is,  and  of  that  which  is  to  come'  (1  Ti  4»).  There 
can  be  no  living  this  life  apart  from  God,  for  it  is 
begotten  in  the  soul  by  a  heavenly  birth,  and  must 
be  continually  nourished  by  the  Spirit  of  God. 
Such  vital  union  with  the  eternal  Spirit  brings  un- 
speakable blessedness  in  this  life  .md  in  tliis  world  ; 
but  it  is  as  permanent  and  aliiiliiii;  :is  the  nature 
of  God,  and  is  therefore  a]iiiiii|)ii!i(i'ly  culled  an 
incorruptible  inheritance.  V.-.uU  individual  life, 
whose  'fellowship  is  with  the  F'ather,  and  with  His 
Son  Jesus  Christ'  (1  Jn  P),  is  conceived  as  con- 
tinuing eternally  in  that  heavenly  fellowshij).  In 
this  age  and  that  which  is  to  come,  in  this  world 
?.nd  in  any  other,  on  the  earth  or  in  the  heavens, 
the  child  of  God  abides  in  eternal  life. 

See  art.  EscliatoloL'v  ii.  2.  and  so  far  as  this  sub- 
ie(t  1  elates  to  the  Futuie  Stite  11  tt  HfaveN, 
IM-VIOUI^LIIY    RbSUf  KiClIOV 

LlTKRAT  RE  —  Gueder  H  r/ot,     R  al   t  le  /clop  d  e   (ed 

Pitt   1       )        I  1  I       I    II  1        /■lie/ 

(e  1   II  ro  b  « 


I  fe 
a\   I 


(H   I 

H     I    (ut 
pp  "4'  2 
scllafc      \f 


ETERNAL  PUNISHMENT 


ETERNAL  PUNISHMENT 


pp.  312-: 

bl.  Theol. 


rhenlnm/  of  the  XT,  pp.  224-233; 
^ol,  ii.  pp.  347-352. 

M.  S.  Teeey. 

ETERNAL  PUNISHMENT.— RV  of  Mt  25*«  {ds 
Kd\a(Tiv  aliiviov).  The  AV  here  and  in  26  other 
passages  has  'everlasting.'  The  adjective  alwvios 
occurs  70  times  in  the  NT  (1  Ti  6"  omitted  in  BV). 
and  in  the  RV,  with  one  exception  (Phileni  '■'>),  is 
uniformly  rendered  -ricDMl.'  riii.s  is  a  distinct 
gain,  as  it  leaves  the  .  ,.iri  -uihIm  ,iiice  to  hedeter- 
mined  by  use.  Thrcr  )  i  ,_-^  -Ik.uM  be  examined: 
'Through  times  etcrnU  lUc  Hi- J  ;  'before  times 
eternal '  (2  Ti  1»,  Tit  1-) ;  in  tliese  uses  it  is  clear 
that  'eternal'  and  'everlasting'  are  not  inter- 
changeable. This  agi-ees  >vith  the  LXX,  in  which 
aiiinos  is  used  of  the  rites  and  ceremonies  of 
Judaism  which  are  done  away  in  Christianitj'  (Ex 
12"  299  40'=,  Nu  18>»  and  others).  The  suggested 
use  of  '  iBonian '  has  failed  to  find  approval  not- 
withstanding its  advantages,  and  '  age-long '  is 
inept. 

For  NT  thought  the  use  of  the  term  in  the 
Fourth  Gospel  should  be  studied.  Excluding 
parallel  passages,  'eternal  life'  is  found  21  times 
in  the  Gospels,  ami  ni  tlicse  17  are  in  John.  In 
this  Gospel,  as  .-ilsd  in  1  .In.,  the  notions  of  succes- 
sion and  duratidn  are  cliiuinated,  and  'eternal' 
bei-onies  almost  synonynuius  with  '  r>i\iiir.'  '  It  is 
nut  .111  endless  duration  of  licin-  in  time.  Init  being 
lit  wliicii  time  is  not  a  nicasun''  (Wi'^tcott,  see 
Adilitiunal  note  on  1  Jn  5-").     Sci^  Etf.i.'Nai.  Life. 

In  the  Synoptic  Gospels,  to  '  enter  into  life '  and 
to  '  enter  into  the  kingdom '  are  used  interchange- 
ably (cf.  Mt  19«- "  with  "-',  Mk  9«  with  ",  Mt  25" 
'inherit  the  kingdom,'  and  v.*  'unto  eternal  life'). 
In  the  Fourth  Gospel  '  eternal  life '  is  the  equiva- 
lent of  'tlie  kingdom  of  heaven'  of  the  Synoptic 
Gospels  (cf.  Jn  3^-  =,  where  '  the  kingdom  of  God ' 
occurs,  with  v.'=).  This  suggests  a  very  compre- 
hensive and  definite  idea.  '  Eternal  life '  is  the  life 
of  the  Kingdom  of  God,  forgiveness,  righteousness, 
salvation,  blessing,  whatever  that  life  is  declared 
to  be  in  the  teaching  of  Jesus.  '  Eternal  punish- 
ment '  is  the  antithesis  of  '  eternal  life,'  the  penal- 
ties upon  all  unrighteousness  inseparably  bound 
lip  with  the  Kingdom,  and  which,  in  His  new 
teaching  of  the  Kingdom,  Jesus  plainly  sets  forth. 
As  a  workin"  principle,  then,  '  eternal '  may  be 
accepted  as  descriptive  of  things  belonging  to, 
essentially  bound  up  with,  the  Kingdom,  and  is 
.iliiicist  the  equivalent  of  '  Messianic,'  in  the  Chris- 
ti.iii,  a-  (ipposed  to  the  merely  Jewish  significance 
ot  the  term,  'that  ye  may  believe  that  Jesus  is 
the  Christ,  the  Son  of  God  ;  and  that  believing  ye 
may  have  life  in  his  name'  (Jn  '_'n-'i.  'rhiM'  (lr..|.i.r 
meanings  of  aldvios  in  the  NT  -liquid  ~ri\.-  t.. 
remove  the  question  of  the  tiim- rlrin.ni  in  miuiv 
punishment  from  the  unsatisfactory  l..i^j>  .,t  nu-rc 
verbal  interpretations. 

In  collating  the  teaching  of  the  Gospels,  full  em- 
phasis must  be  gixen  to  the  ftdlowing  postulates  : 
1.  The  certainty  of  retribution  is  inseparably  bound 
up  ivith  the  revelation  of  Jesus  as  to  the  mill  and 
rhfirricter  of  God.  The  Father  who  '  Seeth  in 
secret'  and  rewards  unobtrusive  righteousness  (Mt 
&■"■)  will  render  to  the  unrighteous  the  due  reward 
of  their  deeds  (Mt  7"  lO^*  12»  15"  18«-  ^,  Lk  18' 
[parallel  passages  omitted  throughout]).  Hence  the 
urgency  of  the  call  to  repentance  (Mt  4"),  and  to 
the  obedience  of  righteousness  as  in  tlie  Sermon  on 
the  Mount,  and,  at  any  cost,  to  '  crucify  the  flesl 


which  prompts  to  sin  (Mt 


').     In  this 


mpt 
1  takes  His  stand  with  the  prophets  of  old  and 
with  the  last  of  their  order,  John  the  Baptist  (cf. 
Lk  3'-").  The  revelation  of  the  all-perfect  Father 
never  weakens,  Init  ever  adds  new  emphasis  to  the 
call  to  a  life  of  righteousness,  and  to  the  certainty 
of  penalty  for  all  unrighteousness. 


2.  The  i-liariiricri.stic  teaching  of  Jesus  as  to  the 
jienalties  if  sin  is  hound  up  with  His  gospel  of  the 
Kingdom.^The  incomparable  worth  of  the  King- 
dom, as  the  richest  'treasure,'  and  'pearl  of  great 
price'  (Mt  IS'^''^),  and  the  supreme  q^uest  of  it  as 
the  first  duty  and  sovereign  wisdom  of  life  (Mt  6**), 
have,  as  their  converse,  the  incompai'able  loss  which 
the  rejection  of  the  gospel  must  inevitably  entail. 
This  is  the  supreme  penalty — exclusion  from  the 
Kingdom,  to  be  cast  into  the  '  outer  darkness'  (Mt 
8'-  '22"  25*'),  denied  by  the  Lord  (Mt  7=^  10**  25'^ 
Lk  13^""),  shut  out  from  the  glad  presence  of  the 
King  (Mt  25'").  The  use  of  the  figures  '  weeping 
and  wailing  and  gnashing  of  teeth '  in  the  sentence 
of  exclusion  clearly  indicates  that  remorse  is  one 
element   in   future  retribution  (cf.   Lk  16^  'Son, 


3.  n 


). 

h.iiiniij  of  the  gospel  adds  to  hunum 
'ill/,  and  inereases  the  severity  of  the 
incoiiaUc  jjcniiltff  of  disohrdirnce.  —This  is  the 
burden  of  much  of  tin-  ti'ailiini;  of  Jesus.  Light 
is  come  into  the  woil.l,  .mil  «itli  the  light  a  more 
solemn  duty  (Jn  3'-'  '.)"  I.v^-  ^^  Itv',  Lk  12"-  ■•«).  It  is 
the  apostate  disciple  \\  hu,  as  salt  which  has  lost  its 
savour,  is  cast  out  (Mt  5").  To  His  disciples  Jesus 
gives  the  warnings  of  God's  searching  judgment 
(Mt5--"'-).  To  those  who  call  Him  'Lord,  Lord,' 
and  in  His  name  have  done  'many  mighty  works,' 
He  utters  the  dread  'Depart'  (Mt  7='"^,  <f.  Lk 
13-'"").  It  is  the  disobedient  hearers  of  His  word 
who  are  compared  to  a  foolish  builder  whose  house, 
built  upon  sand,  is  ruined  by  the  storm  (Mt  7-"-  ^). 
Those  who  deny  Him,  He  also  will  deny  (Mt  I0-«) ; 
those  who  are  ashamed  of  Him,  of  them  will  He 
be  ashamed  (Mk  8^).  It  is  the  unfaithful  servant 
(Mt  24-«-"),  the  unwatchful  (Mt  25'""),  the  unprofit- 
able (Mt  25**),  who  are  cast  out  of  the  Kingdom. 
It  is  the  unfruitful  branch  of  tlie  vine  that  is  east 
forth,  mthered,  gathered,  cast  into  the  fire, 
burned  (Jn  15^).  The  final  condition  of  hopeless 
doom,  the  state  of  '  eternal  sin,'  is  the  direct  result 
of  self-willed,  deliberate  resistance  to  the  Divine 
grace  (Mk  3^ ;  see  Eteenal  SiN).  And  in  the 
larger  issues  the  severity  of  judgment  falls  upon 
cities  and  generations  '  exalted  to  heaven '  in 
privilege  and  opportunity,  but  doomed  because  of 
neglect  (Mtll*-«  12^'- •"). 

In  all  this  there  is  no  reference  to  those  to  whom  the  gospel 
has  not  been  made  known.  The  mention  of  the  Cities  of  the  Plain 
(Mt  1015)  and  that  of  the  men  of  Nineveh  (Mt  12ii)  are  too  in- 
cidental and  indirect  to  yield  any  dctei^miniiiir  priii<-i)i|f.  K\i>n 
the  great  Judpuent  passage  (Mt : 


spel  preacned  ttiom- Imut  l\w  wliolt- 

.iti.i  'lir;,ii  >|i>Mii,  .\  111.  Ii.  ill  till-  ttaiiiiiiu'  "I  .Ksiis,  tall  only  upon 
lllnie  Willi  lii'iiy  illlll  :in(l  reject  His  j,^uspel. 

i.  The  fnrd  triumph  of  the  Kingdom,  and  con- 
sequent Jinril  separation  of  the  righteous  and  the 
wicked. — This  is  again  and  again  solemnly  a.sserted 
and  described.  In  the  parables  of  the  Tares  (Mt 
13'^f-)  and  the  Drag-net  (Mt  IS""-),  the  ultimate 
overthrow,  and,  as  the  terms  used  would  seem  to 
imply,  the  final  destruction  of  evil  are  decisively 
declared.  From  the  explanation  of  the  parable  it 
is  clear  that  the  wheat  and  the  tares  represent 
persons — '  the  sons  of  the  kingdom  '  and  '  the  sons 
of  the  evil  one.'  This  sharp  division  of  men  into 
two  classes  entirely  distinct  is  to  human  vision 
impossible.  The  facts  of  life  show  the  presence  of 
'  wheat  and  tares,'  good  and  eWl  in  every  man. 
The  difficulty  is  umiisoImiI.  Tlie  end  is  declared, 
but  not  the  stap-  li\  ^^lli-ll  it,  is  reached.  The 
Kingdom  is  to  he  .ill  n^liti-.m-ni-ss,  out  of  it  is  to 
be  gathered  'all  tlnn-^  that  .  luse  stumbling,  and 
thorn    that   do   inii|uitv'   (Mt   13^').      Every   |d.ant 


ETEENAL  PUNISHMENT 


ETEENAL  SIN 


541 


not  planted  by  the  Father  is  to  be  uprooted  (Mt 
15'*),  and  eveiy  tree  which  beareth  not  good  fruit 
is  to  be  cut  down  and  destroyed  (Mt  7'"). 

So  far  there  can  be  little  hesitation  in  setting 
forth  the  teaching  of  Jesus.  The  difficulties  arise 
when  we  seek  to  determine  exactly  the  nature 
and  duration  of  the  penalties  and  of  the  doom. 
The  difficulty  is  accentuated  Viy  the  fact  that  Jesus 
uses  freely  the  religious  synibcilisiii  current  at  the 
time.  Gehenna,  the  wc.im  tlmt  ilirs  not  and  the 
tire  that  is  not  quenclji'.l.  ihr  niitfi  darkness,  the 
weeping  and  the  wailiiij;  iiiid  the  i;iiasliing  of  teeth, 
were  familiar  figures,  and  are  clearly  used  because 
familiar  (see  Eternal  Fike).  If,  then,  we  ask  how 
far  Jesus  gave  His  sanction  to  the  popular  notions 
behind  the  symbols,  we  are  confronted  with  the 
difficulty  of  determining  what  those  notions  were. 
The  use  of  these  tigures  to  describe  the  place  of 
punishment  in  the  world  of  spirits  is  admitted,  but 
it  is  not  so  clear  which  of  the  three  doctrines  which 
have  divided  Christian  thought — endless  punish- 
ment, anniliilation,  restoration — was  held.  Sup- 
port has  been  found  for  each  opinion,  and  from  the 
words  of  Jesus  Himself  quite  opposite  conclusions 
have  been  reached.  In  what  has  been  said  above, 
finality  would  seem  to  be  taught,  but  other 
opinions  are  held.  ^  Ln: 

(1)  Especially  the  great  sayings  in  which  the  '' 
note  of  the  universality  of  grace  rings  so  clear  (Jn 
S'"-  "),  and  the  persistent  search  of  the  lost  (Lk  15''-8) 
and  tlie  all-embracing  work  of  Jesus  are  so  abso- 
lutely declared  (Jn  1-*  12^'- '-),  have  been  dwelt  upon 
as  justifying  '  the  larger  hope.'  The  e.xact  award 
of  penalty,  the  few  and  many  stripes  according  to 
the  nieasure  of  disobedience  (Lk  Vi"-  ^"j,  the  com- 
pleted siMiti'iirr  iiji]ili<-d  ill  'till  tliou  have  i.aid  the 
last    fMiiliin,--    (Ml   .-.-"',  <-f.    is^^'--),    tlic    startliii-- 


ifying    part'   (see  Intr 
'      ),  the  1 


perform 

Com.  'Mark'  in  loco),  the  use  of  kUKi 
•suggestive  of  corrective  rather  than  ot  vni.lntnr 
punishment'  (Expos.  Gr.  Test,  on  Mt  2r>*).  ami  tlic 
nse  of  aliiyios  as  suggesting  'age-long,'  have  all 
been  singled  out  as  leaving  room  for  the  hope  of 
final  salvation  through  the  fires  of  judgment. 

The  exact  balance  of  the  awards  'eternal  life'  and  'eternal 
punishment'  (Mt  25*)  has  often  been  insisted  upon  as  teach- 
ing finality.  As  the  life  is  certainly  endless,  so,  it  is  urged, 
must  the  punishment  be.  But  even  this  is  not  conclusive. 
The  terms  'life'  and  'punishment'  point  to  an  essential  differ- 
ence. Life  is  of  God,  essentially  Divine ;  punishment  is  from 
God,  a  Divine  act.  It  is  well  also  to  bear  in  mind  that '  if  good" 
ever  should  come  to  an  end,  that  would  come  to  an  end  which 
Christ  died  to  bring  in  ;  but  if  evil  comes  to  an  end,  that  comes 
to  an  end  which  He  died  to  destroy '  (Clemance,  Future  Punish- 
vient,  p.  65).  .) 

But  more  than  upon  single  texts,  reliance  is 
jilaced  upon  the  revealed  character  and  purpose  of 
God  in  Jesus  Clirist. 

(2)  On  the  other  haml,  tin'  str.ni-  terms,  dcstrur': 
tion,  perdition,tinqtie>ir/ifi/,/r  ji,  i  .  ;mmI  ilieanalogies 
of  consumption  of  tiuc-  :iii'l  rli.iir  ;uid  withered 
branches  by  fire,  are  iiistiinccd  .is  imlicating  anni- 
hilation. "Two  sayings  of  Jesus  are  indeed  terrible- 
in  their  severity,  and  ought  not  to  be  minimized  : 
'  Be  not  afraid  of  them  which  kill  the  body,  but 
are  not  able  to  kill  the  soul ;  but  rather  fear  him 
which  is  able  to  destroy  both  soul  and  body  in 
hell '  (Mt  10=8).  Whether  the  reference  be  to  God 
as  the  object  of  fear  (so  Wendt,  Teaching  of  Jesus, 
i.  201,  and  most  commentators)  or  '  the  tempter '  and 
'  the  devil  whose  agent  he  is'  (so  Bruce,  Expoa.  Gr. 
Test,  in  loco),  the  statement  as  to  the  destruction  of 
the  soul  itself  remains.  The  same  thouglit  is  sug^ 
gested  by  the  figure  used  in  the  saying.  '  He  that 
falleth  on  this  stone  shall  lie  hrolcen'to  pieces  ;  but 
on  whomsoever  it  .shall  fall,  if  will  matter  him  as 
du.st'  (Mt  21").  Were  utter  extiiieliuii  of  being  to 
be  taught,  it  could  hardly  be  in  iilainer  terms. 


(3)  In  close  association,  and  leniling  supjiort  to 
the  theory  of  annihilation,  is  the  doctrine  of  '  con- 
ditional immortality '  or  'life  in  Christ.'  Accord- 
ing to  this  theory  the  object  of  revelation  is  '  to 
change  man's  nature,  not  only  from  sin  to  holiness, 
but  from  mortality  to  immortality.'  Many  sayings 
in  the  Fourth  Gospel  are  pressed  to  support  this 
theoiy,  especially  those  where  the  gift  of  life  is 
declared  to  be  only  through  the  Son,  and  to 
those  only  who  abide  in  Him  by  faith  (Jn  3'*-  "* 

035.  50-58). 

It  is  this  evident  and  apparently  '  insoluble 
antinomy '  which  has  led  many  to  conclude  '  that 
we  have  not  the  elements  of  a  complete  solution, 
and  we  ought  not  to  attempt  it.  What  visions 
beyond  there  may  be,  what  larger  hopes,  what 
ultimate  harmonies,  if  such  there  are  in  store,  will 
come  in  God's  good  time  ;  it  is  not  ours  to  antici- 
pate them,  or  lift  the  veil  where  God  has  left  it 
drawn'  (Orr,  The  Christian  View  of  God  and  the 
World,  397).  This  conclusion,  so  far  at  least  as 
the  Gospels  are  concerned,  may  be  accejited.  In 
the  teaching  of  Jesus  the  emphasis  is  always  upon 
present  op])ortunity,  duty,  responsibility.  '  One 
said  unto  him,  Lord,  are  they  few  that  be  saved  ? 
And  he  said  unto  them.  Strive  to  enter  in  by  the 
arrow  door '  (Lk  13=^).  '  Walk  whOe  ye  have  the 
light,  that  darkness  overtake  you  not.  While  ye 
have  the  light,  believe  on  the  light,  that  ye  may 
become  sons  of  light '  ( Jn  12'^-  **).  God's  eternal 
grace  and  man's  'boundless  power  of  resistance' 
stand  over  against  each  other.  Jesus  honours  both, 
but  nowhere  in  His  reported  sayings  does  He  dis- 
close the  final  issue. 

The  teaching  of  the  Epistles  does  not  come 
within  the  scope  of  this  article,  but  this  brief 
reference  is  necessary.  To  the  present  writer,  at 
least,  it  does  appear  that  St.  Paul's  faith  reaches  a 
linal  issue.  By  him  an  endless  dualism  isdecisively 
reje.ted.  '  That  God  may  be  all  in  all '  (1  Co  IS^"-^") 
IS  the  linal  goal;  but  what  that  includes,  or  how 
:ir(c.iiiplislied,  is  not  declared  ;  only  of  Christ  it  is 
said,  and  we  may  hold  this  faith  confidently,  'He 
must  reig-n  till  he  hath  put  all  his  enemies  under 
his  feet. ' 

Literature. — This  is  very  voluminous,  and  no  attempt  is 
made  to  include  even  all  modern  works.  The  following  may  be 
consulted  : — (A  )  In  favour  of  endlessness  of  punishment ;  Pusey, 
What  is  of  Faith  as  to  Ererlastimj  Punishment  l ;  S.  Davidson, 
The  Doctrine  of  Last  Things;  Salmond,  The  Christian  Doctrine 
Q^/»/imor(aZi7y.— (Z?)  Treating  the  answer  as  unrevealed:  Barrett, 
The  Intermediate  State ;  Beet,  The  Last  Things ;  Clemance, 
Future  Punishment ;  Orr,  The  Christian  View  of  God  and  the 
World,  Lect.  ix. — (C)  In  support  of  annihilation  :  Row,  Future 
Retribution;  Stokes,  Conditional  Immortality  ;  E.  White,  Z.i/e 
in  Christ.— (D)  Maintaining  the  'larger  hope':  Cox,  Salvator 
Mundi ;  Farrar,  Eternal  Hope,  and  Mercy  and  J^tdgment ; 
Plumptre,  Spirits  in  Prison,  includes  art.  '  Eschatology '  from 
.Smith's  Diet,  of  Christian  Biog. ;  Jukes,  The  Restitutioti  of  all 
Things. — (£)  On  the  general  question :  see  Hastings'  DB,  art. 
'Eschatology' ;  Alger,  Doctrine  of  a  Future  Life;  also  Greg's 
Enigmas  of  Life,  ch.  vii.,  for  a  striking  presentation  of  retribu- 
tion as  determined  by  the  nature  of  sin;  Stephen,  Essays  in 
Ecclesiastical  Biography,  the  Epilogue. 

W.  H.  r)y.soN. 
ETERNAL  SIN.-The  RV  of  Mk  3=»  [aiojnov 
a/Mprrj/jiaTOi,  so  NBL  ;  C*  ^'''  D  read  afiaprias)  ;  AV 
'  eternal  damnation  '  (/cpia-eu!,  .so  AC=),  '  a  strong 
translation  of  an  incorrect  text' (Morison).  It  is 
not  surprising  that  the  latter  explanation  of  a 
difficult  word  {a.ij.dpTr]/j.a)  should  have  found  its  way 
into  the  text  of  some  later  MSS.  As  an  explana- 
tion of  the  correct  text,  '  eternal  judgment ' — or,  as 
the  judgment  is  clearly  .idverse,  '  eternal  condem- 
nation'— is  not  without  force.  It  has  the  merit 
of  emphasizing  the  essential  matter,  which  any 
interpretation,  to  be  adequate,  must  take  into 
account,  that  an  '  eternal  sin '  is  a  sin  which 
'hath  never  forgiveness.'  But  this  early  glo.ss  is 
inadequate.  There  is  more  than  the  emphasis  of 
repetition.  It  is  not  the  /kiih/I;/  of  the  sin,  hut  its 
nature,  which  is  declared ;  not  the  mere  duration 


ETERNAL  SIN 


ETERNITY 


of  the  sin  or  of  the  sinning,  but  the  guilt ;  not 
eternally  siniiiny;,  but  an  eternal  sin. 

That  sin  tends  to  propagate  itself  is  witnessed 
to  by  experience,  and  that  continuance  in  sinning 
must  exclude  forgiveness  is  an  essential  principle 
of  all  moral  judgment.  Sin  and  penalty  are  of 
necessity  coterminous.  But  unforgiven  because 
unrepcntcd  of  is  true  of  all  sin,  and  is  no  adequate 
explanation  "of  an  '  eternal  sin  '  which  carries  the 
judgment  '  unforgivable.'  The  absoluteness  of  the 
sentence  is  already  declared  in  the  words  '  liath 
never  forsiveness ;'  it  is  the  ultimate  ground  of 
this  jiiilmiiciil  «  liich  is  further  declared. 

'Kti'iiKil  NJii  '  liiuls  its  contrast  and  opposite  in 
'etoni.il  lifr,  whirh  is  not  simply  or  character- 
istically cndlrs.s  life,  but  essential,  perfect  life,  '  the 
life  which  is  life  indeed'  (ITiB'^RV),  the  life 
of  the  Kingdom  of  God  (cf.  Mk  9)"-  «■  ■"  and 
Jn  Z'-^- '"'■),  the  life  of  God  (1  Jn  1=  RV).  So 
'  eternal  sin '  is  more  than  '  sin  eternally  repeat- 
ing itself,'  it  is  a  fixed  state  of  sin,  sin  which  has 
become  character,  nature,  moral  death,  which  is 
death  indeed.  But  see  art.  BLASPHEMY,  p.  209". 
This  is  the  final  revolt  of  man,  free  will  carried 
to  its  ultimate  in  the  defiance  of  God,  a  final  con- 
dition, liopeless  and  beyond  recovery,  beyond  the 
reach  even  of  Divine  illumination  and  influence. 
The  writer  of  the  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews  cer- 
tainly contemplates  in  6'"*  the  possibility  of  such 
fatal  apostasy,  cf.  also  1  Jn  5'"  '  sin  unto  death  ' 
(see  Westcott,  ad  loc.) ;  but  neither  of  these  pas- 
sages appears  to  the  present  writer  to  afford  help 

Two  questions  must  be  distinguished  —  the 
actuality  and  the  possibility  of  this  state  of 
moral  depravity.  That  the  grace  of  God  should 
prove  unavailing  is  indeed  hard  to  believe,  and  by 
many  the  thought  is  rejected  utterly.  Yet  there  is 
much  in  the  teaching  of  .Tpsus  and  in  human  life 
to  justify  the  fear  thnt  thi-  iii.~-il>ility  may  become 
an  actual  fact.  The  h.rJrinii^  ..f  the  heiirt  which 
follows  all  unfaithfuliii--.  i-  ilu-  witness  in  human 
life  to  what  must  inevitably  result  if  unfaithful- 
ness is  persisted  in,  a  fixed  state  of  spiritual  blind- 
ness and  insensibility.  There  is  a  law  of  degenera- 
tion in  the  moral  world  as  in  the  natural.  But  it 
is  in  the  Scripture  doctrine  of  sin  that  the  full 
ground  of  this  fear  is  seen.  According  to  the  teach- 
ing of  Jesus,  the  measure  of  responsibility  is  '  the 
light  that  is  in  thee'  (Mt  6='),  and  sin  is  wilful 
disregard  of  the  light  of  truth.  To  be  blind  is  to 
be  without  sin  ;  but  to  those  who  say  '  we  see,'  and 
yet  walk  in  darkness,  'sin  remaineth'  (JnQ'").  So 
every  increase  of  light  brings  increased  responsi- 
bility (Jn  3"  15-*) ;  and  for  self-willed  deliberate 
refusal  of  the  Divine  grace,  refusal  not  in  ignorance 
or  misunderstanding  but  with  full  consciousness 
and  choice  of  will  so  that  the  will  itself  becomes 
identified  with  evil,  there  can  only  be  judgniciil. 
not  because  the  Divine  compassions  fail,  but  \n- 
cause  the  redemption,  as  the  Redeemer,  is  dcspisnl 
and  rejected  of  men.  In  the  final  issue  the  free 
will  of  man  is  valid  even  against  the  beseechings 
of  (Jod  (Jn  5*,  Mt  233'). 

The  doom  of  the  finally  imjjenitent  is  here  nega- 
tively told:  'hath  never  forgiveness';  but  that 
includes  the  uttermost  penalty,  exclusion  from  the 
Kinicdoni  of  the  Father,  loss  of  the  'eternal  life.' 
This  is  sin's  last  stage  and  uttermost  working  ;  it 
cuts  the  soul  off  from  God,  its  source  and  life.  '  Sin, 
when  it  is  full  grown,  bringeth  forth  death  '  ( J,a  1  ">). 
See,  further,  art.  SiN. 


\V.  H.  Dyson. 


ETERNITY There  is  no   word   either  in    OT 

Hebrew  or  in  NT  Greek  corresponding  to  the 
abstract  idea  of  eternity. 

In  Is  6715  both  AV  and  RV  have  the  phrase  '  the  high  and 
\oi\,\i  One  that  iniiabileth  eternity.'  MThas  ly  ]2t\  lit.  'dwelling 
for  ever' — the  thought  of  the  WTiter  being  evidently  the  un- 
chan{}eahleness  of  God.  ny  probably  comes  nearest  of  all  Hebrew 
words  to  express  permanence.  Originally  it  was  a  substantive 
connected  with  Assyr.  adii,  meaning  'time,'  'passing  time,' 
'the  present.'  But  in  OT  it  is  used  adverbially  to  express 
indefinite  duration  of  time  generally  in  the  future.  Its  use  is 
mainlv  poetical :  of  God  (Is  5716),  His  law  (Ps  199),  His  attri- 
butes (1113. 10).  But  it  is  found  also  in  connexion  with  things 
whose  existence  in  Hebrew  thought  would  be  limited,  c.ff.  a 
king's  life  (Ps  216,  Pr  29W),  the  lip  of  truth  (Pr  1219). 

A  word  of  wider  meaning  and  more  general  application  is 
DJiiy,  connected  with  Assyr.  vlldmi,  meaning  'remote  time.' 
D^iy  is  frequently  used  of  the  fast-days  (Is  639. ",  Mie  51  T"  etc.), 
people  (Is  44'',  Jei-  515),  hills  (Gn  4926,  Hab  36).  It  is  also  used,  like 
ly,  of  God  or  His  attributes  as  existing  from  the  remote  past 


everlasting  to  everlasting '  (Ps  90'-  IDS",  Neh  9^  etc.).  But  in 
the  case  of  D7iy  also  there  are  many  places  in  OT  where  ita 
meaning  is  obviously  limited  to  the  atfairs  and  lives  of  human 
beings,  e.g.  of  a  slave  (Dt  Ifi',  1  S  2712),  of  careless  dwellers  (Ps 
7312),  and  in  the  familiar  phrase,  'May  the  king  live  for  ever' 
(1  K  131,  Neh  23).  Often,  however,  the  word  is  used  to  indicate 
the  writer's  hope  or  belief  that  a  certain  state  of  good  \e.g.  God's 
covenant  (Gn  910),  or  His  promises  (Is  4ll»),  or  His  relations  to 
His  people  (Ps  451**  j^se,  etc.)],  may  continue  indefinitely.  Par- 
ticularly is  this  true  of  the  Messianic  hope  (Is  96,  Ps  1101  453). 
Sometimes  this  thought  of  permanence  is  emphasized  by  the 
use  of  the  plural  (Is  26-1  451',  Dn  924).  in  Ec  311,  a  very  diffl?ult 
passage,    RVm  gives    as   an   alternative  rendering   of    ojiyri 

The  other  Hebrew  phrases  worthy  of  note  are  n^  J  •  perpetuity ' 
in  the  frequent  phr.ase  nsjS  '  for  ever'  (Is  1320  268,  Am  8',  Hab 
1^  etc.),  and  □•p;  -^nN  'length  of  days,'  Dt  3020,  Job  1212,  pg  214, 
and  in  the  well-known  passage  Ps  236  *  I  shall  dwell  in  the  house 
of  the  Lord  for  eiier.'  Here  the  meaning  is  disputed,  but  the 
probability  is  that  the  hi^rhest  .inticipation  of  the  Psalmist  was 
to  have  the  joy  of  spending  an  indefinite  period  in  the  Temple 
in  prayer  and  meditation.  .Similar  to  D^iyS  is  the  phra.se  111  llS, 
lit.  'to  age  and  age,'  i.e.  to  future  ages  (Ex  310,  ps  106  33*1 
491I).     It  is  mainly  poetical. 

The  idea  of  eternity,  like  the  idea  of  iminortality, 
was  probably  beyond  the  range  of  early  Je\vish 
thought.  It  arose  after  the  Exile,  partly  through 
a  natural  development  of  the  Hebrew  conception  of 
God,  and  partly  through  the  force  of  circumstances. 
(1)  "The  pious  Jew,  turning  away  more  and  more 
from  the  anthropomorphism  of  cruder  religions, 
strove  to  diftereutiate  tiie  infinite  God  from  finite 
man.  God  is  transcendent — above  the  limitations 
of  earthly  existence.  Hence  He  is  eternal,  from 
everlasting  to  everlasting.  A  thousand  years  in 
His  sight  are  but  as  yesterday.  (2)  With  the  Exile 
came  a  decay  of  national  ideals,  and  the  Jew 
began  to  consider  more  his  own  personality  and 
its  relation  to  this  eternal  God.  This  thought 
de\elo|ir4  slouly,  and  was  mixed  with  various 
elriiiriii<  The  .lew  found  himself  in  an  evil  world. 
Hi-  own  iialioTi  was  oppressed,  almo.st  blotted  out. 
( looil  men  suffered;  wicked  men  seemed  to  prosper. 
It  llieeternal,  omnipotent  God  ruled  the  world,  then 
all  this  must  surely  end.  The  Day  of  the  Lord 
w  ouUl  come  for  oppressed  Israel,  for  the  oppressors, 
for  the  whole  world,  and  (in  Apocalyptic  literature, 
Ps-Sol  3'"  13"  etc.)  for  the  Jew  himself.  Then  the 
present  evil  world  (ntn  obSii)  would  give  place  to  a 
new  and  glorious  era  (nan  oSiy,  see  GENERATION). 
Whether  this  n^rr  ojiiy  would  be  endless  the  Jew  did 
not  at  first  stop  to  inquire.  Sufficient  for  him  that 
it  wordd  come  with  countless  blessings  in  '  the  end 
of  the  days '  (□•.■3;n  i'R,  cf.  Mt  13'»  24').  In  the  Book 
of  Enoch,  however,  '  Time '  is  followed  by  '  Eternity ' 
in  the  K3n  oViy.  Later  Judaism  de\'eloped  the  idea, 
[jrobably  borrowed  from  the  Zend  religion,  of  a 
series  of  world  epochs  (<-f.  the  worhl  empires  of 
Daniel's  vision),  followed  by  the  Messianic  age. 

In  the  time  of  Christ,  Jewish  thought  on  the 
future  had  developed  very  nnieh,  and  hail  .assumed 
many  forms  (see  EsCHATOLOGV).     Jesus  nmst  have 


ETHICS 


ETHICS 


543 


sifted  the  various  elements.  He  retained  and  per- 
liaps  developed  the  view  of  a  new  age  (n?!i  nSiy) 
about  to  daM'n  on  the  world  as  opposed  to  the  pre- 
sent (ain  oSiy  ;  Mt  l-2-'=,  cf.  13-«  28=").  Then  ' the  kino;- 
dom  oi  heaven '  (c'?^'  n?D^?)  m'ouUI  be  established. 
Jesus  endeavoured  to  concentrate  the  thoughts  of 
His  hearers  on  their  personal  relation  to  this  king- 
dom, and  the  desirability  of  sharing  it  (see  Life, 
Eternal  Life).  Doubtless  this  kingdom  would 
be  for  ever  and  its  members  live  for  ever  (cf.  Dn  12-' 
D^iy  '.'n  '  eternal  life  ').  The  vexed  question  of  the 
absolute  endlessness  of  this  kingdom,  with  its 
rewards  and  punishments,  would  probably  never  be 
raised  in  the  minds  of  Jesus'  hearers.  At  the  same 
time,  there  is  no  evidence  in  the  teaching  of  Jesus 
of  any  limit  to  the  njn  nSiy,  and  while  the  frequent 
adjective  oMmos,  'eternal,'  must  be  taken  in  the 
Gospels  as  referring  in  the  first  place  to  this  coming 
kingdom,  it  may,  so  far  as  we  know,  be  taken  as 
implying  also  that  quality  of  absolute  permanence 
with  which  that  kingdom  has  always  been  associ- 
ated in  the  minds  of  men. 

Literature.— The  subject  is  practically  part  of  the  larger 
topic  Eschatology,  and  all  books  dealing  with  this  latter  subject 
refer  more  or  less  to  Eternity.  On  the  OT  and  Apocalyptic? 
views  see  Stade,  Die  Alttest.  Vorstellutigen  vnin  Zvslnnii  nach 
dem  Tode ;  Schwally,  Das  Leben  nach  dan  Tmle ;  s..liultz,  OT 

Theology,  \-o\.  ii.  pp.  364-39S;  Salmond,  77.    (A,,  ' I'.nrine 

of  Iminortaiity  ;  OreWi,  Die  hebr,  SynnH^,  I.  '  !:,ri,j. 

keit\'i\&xi\,Geschichteder  Israel.  Rcli'ji''    i  '  mi  the 

NTsee  the  various  NT  theologies,  esperi;,;;  j         hlag 

and  H.  Holtzmann.  Cf.  also  Samuel  Da\  I'l-'n,  /a.'/.m,  nf  the 
Last  Things  ;  Toy,  Judaism  and  Christianilii  ;  A.  Beet,  Last 
Things^;  Dalman,  The  Words  of  Jesus. 

G.  Gordon  Stott. 

ETHICS.— A  very  little  reflexion  will  reveal  the 
unusual  difficulties  that  lurk  in  a  subject  like  the 
present — the  Ethics  of  Jesus,  or,  of  the  Gospels. 
Even  the  uninitiated  is  aware  that  we  cannot  in 
strictness  speak  of  the  '  Ethics '  of  Jesus  at  all— in 
the  sense,  that  is,  of  a  doctrini'  systcinaticiilly  de- 
veloped according  to  priiiciiilcs.  ;iihl  exhaustively 
applied  to  the  facts  of  life.  I  or  Ili>  «.is  mi  seien- 
titic  or  methodical  sjiiiil  :  11  i^  .sij;nirnanee  lie.s 
rather  in  the  realm  of  personality,  in  tlie  unique 
quality  of  His  moral  feeling  and  judgment,  in  the 
peculiar  way  in  which  men  and  things  moved  Him, 
and  in  which  He  reacted  upon  them.  Hence  we 
need  not  look  for  either  an  orderly  arrangement  of, 
or  even  an  approximate  completeness  in.  His  ethical 
ideas.  From  the  drama  of  His  life  we  are  unable 
to  compile  a  system  of  morals,  but  we  may  see  how 
a  great  Personality  creates  a  moral  standard  bj' 
what  He  does  and  suft'ers,  and  how  He  elucidates 
it  in  His  words. 

But  are  we  justified  in  connecting  with  Him  the 
term  '  ethical '  at  all  1  We  speak  accurately  of 
Ethics  or  Moral  Science  only  when  we  regard  the 
conduct  of  men  in  their  mutual  relations  as  some- 
thing by  itself,  abstracted  from  religious  feeling 
and  action,  and  when  ethical  ends  and  maxims  are 
disengaged  from  religion,  in  virtue  of  their  in- 
herent worth  ;  and  such  an  independent  position 
of  Ethics,  whether  it  ajijiear  wurtli  attaining  or 
not,  is  simply  beside  the  mark  in  the  case  of 
Jesus.  His  moral  and  His  reli.ui..iis  principles  are 
so  closely  interwoven,  His  mural  feeling,  e.ff.  His 
love  for  man,  is  so  inseverable  from  the  religious 
basis  of  His  belief  in  the  Fatherhood  of  God,  that 
it  would  seem  to  be  impossible  to  delineate  His 
'  Ethics '  without  at  the  same  time  treating  of,  say, 
the  Kingdom  of  God,  the  Divine  grace,  or  the  final 
judgment.  And  if,  nevertheless,  we  venture  upon 
the  task,  we  must  never  lose  sight  of  the  connect- 
ing lines  that  run  between  His  ethical  teaching 
and  His  religious  principles. 

Then  there  is  the  question  whether  our  sources 
are  at  all  sufficient  for  the  full  and  accurate  repre- 
sentation of  the  moral  jiersonality  of  Jesus.  In 
restricting  ourselves  to  the  Synoptic  Gospels,  we 


are  doing  nothing  more  than  recognizing  the 
claims  of  historical  science.  But  now,  to  what 
extent  can  we  regard  the  three  older  Gospels  as 
adequate  sources  for  our  theme  ?  H  we  investigate 
the  oldest  of  all,  viz.  Mark,  we  find  that  it  nowhere 
makes  any  attempt  to  portray  the  Ethics  of  Jesus 
as  such.  In  reporting  His  conflict  and  controversy 
with  the  Judaism  of  His  time,  it  casts  but  an  in- 
direct light  upon  this  side  of  His  character,  and 
that,  moreover,  in  a  series  of  isolated  scenes.  Of 
these  the  most  outstanding  are  the  Rabbinical 
disputations  regarding  the  Sabbath  CiP-Z^),  purity 
(7'--''),  divorce  (10^-'=)  ;  then  come  the  important 
passages  narrating  the  conversation  with  the  rich 
man  (K)""^)  and  regarding  the  'first  command- 
ment' (12^"").  Various  other  aspects  of  His  con- 
ception of  life  are  vividly  illustrated  by  such  utter- 
ances as  that  to  the  paralytic  (2^^'),  about  the 
physician  and  the  sick  (2"),  the  true  kinship  (Z^), 
children  (10'*'),  and  tribute-money  (12""").  In  the 
section  dominated  by  the  three  predictions  of  His 
death  (8"-10''*)  we  have  a  mass  of  admonitions 
to  the  disciples— concerning  readiness  to  suffer, 
loyalty,  courage,  humility,  reverence  for  childhood, 
etc-.  \Ve  have  here  something  of  the  nature  of  a 
primitive  Christian  catechism  ;  not  instructions  (as 
in  the  Vidache,  let  us  say)  for  tranquil  seasons  and 
everyday  life,  but  rather  articles  of  war  for  the 
ecclesia  militans  of  the   persecutions,  a  manuale 

An  entirely  difi'erent  kind  of  appeal  is  made  by 
the  Sermon  on  the  Mount  in  Mt  5-7.  In  its  extant 
form  the  Sermon  is  the  promulgation  of  a  great 
progranune,  in  which  the  Evangelist  seeks  to  give 
a  definitive  and  approximately  complete  statement 
of  Jesus'  relation  to  the  Law,  with  a  reference,  more- 
over, to  the  representatives  of  the  anti-legalistic 
standpoint,  who  think  that  He  is  come  '  to  destroy 
the  law.'  It  is  tlie  purpose  of  the  writer  to  con- 
vince these  tliat  .lesus,  being  in  a  general  way  the 
Fulliller  of  Propliecy,  is,  as  a  lawgiver,  the  ful- 
liller  of  the  jiropliecy  regarding  the  second  Moses, 
whom  God  was  to  raise  up  in  the  last  days  (Dt 
18'*),  and  who,  so  far  from  abrogating  the  Law, 
will  rather  consummate  and  even  transcend  it.f 
In  our  reading  of  the  Sermon  ^\e  cannot  attord  to 
ignore  this  design  of  tlie  writer  ;  we  miist  draw  a 
distinction  between  \\  liat  its  A\()rds  inniiorted  to 
him,  and  Mhat  they  meant  in  tlie  tradition  he 
utilized.  Similarly,  in  reading  St.  Luke's  ver- 
sion of  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount,  we  must  bear 
in  mind  that  he  has  materially  abridged  his 
material,  not  alone  by  discarding  the  Jewish  and 
preserving  only  the  typically  human  elements, 
but  by  considerably  transforming  it  under  the 
influence  of  his  pronounced  ascetic  view.J  Both 
Mt.  and  Lk.  thus  throw  us  back  upon  the  source 
of  our  Lord's  w  orcls,  in  which  the  primitive  Jewish- 
Christian  coiiumniity  had  grouped  the  Logia  of 
Jesus  fur  its  own  instruction.  Hence  we  are  forced 
to  distinguish  lietween  the  Ethics  of  the  Evan- 
gelists and  the  Etlucs  of  their  source.  Further, 
we  must  make  a  searching  exandnation  of  the 
characteristically  Lukan  tradition  as  it  appears  in 
the  parables  of  the  Rich  Man  and  Lazarus,  the 
Good  Saraarita,n,  etc. ;  §  only  so  shall  we  be  iustified 
in  attempting  to  answer  tlie  question,  What  was 
the  ethical  position  of  Jesus  ?  An  extremely  com- 
plicated critical  process  must  thus  be  gone  through 
before  we  use  our  present  authorities  as  documents 
for  the  solution  of  our  problem.  But  as  it  is 
impossible  to  reproduce  here  the  details  of  such 
investigation,  only  the  results  can  be  stated,  with 
references  to  other  works  of  the  present  writer. 


»  Cf.  J.  Weiss,  Das  dlteste  Emngelium 

t  Cf.  J.  Weiss,  Die  Schrifirn  des  NT, 

die  Gegeiiimrt  erklart  (190S),  l.  i.  p.  238  ff. 

)/6.  p.  413ff. 


.  i.  p.  238 
§  /^.  p. 


aberseUt  und  fiir 


544 


ETHICS 


ETHICS 


In  an  account  of  tlie  Ethics  of  Jesus,  the  reader 
also  looks  for  a  comparison  and  contrast  between 
Him  and  His  Jewish,  perhaps  also  His  Graco- 
Ronian,  cimteiiiporaries.  The  fresh  and  original 
elements  in  His  moral  thought  and  feeling  must  be 
set  over  a;^aiii>t  traditional  views.  The  favourite 
proii'ilnre  in  tins  connexion,  that,  namely,  of  placing 
His  luminous  tigure  on  a  background  as  sombre  as 
possible,  is  one  we  cannot  follow.  Above  all,  the 
task  of  describing  the  ethical  conditions  of  con- 
temporary Judaism  would  take  us  beyond  our 
allotted  space,  and  is,  moreover,  bejrond  our  capa- 
city. Often  as  it  has  been  tried,  in  more  or  less 
ingenious  sketches,  to  reproduce  some  cross-section 
through  the  moral  conditions  of  later  Judaism,  it 
has  never  been  accomplished  without  subjective 
caprice  and  violent  tendency-interpretations.  Nor 
is  this  result  to  be  wondered  at ;  for  it  is  quite  im- 
possible to  describe  faithfully,  or  estimate  justly, 
the  characteristic  ethical  complexion  of  a  period 
so  extensive  as  the  two  and  a  half  centuries  from 
B.C.  180  to  A.D.  70,  of  the  inner  history  of  which 
we  still  know  so  little,  which  is  represented  by  a 
literature  so  multiform,  and  of  which  the  dominant 
currents  veered  so  much — a  period,  moreover, 
meagrely  equipped  with  first-rate  or  distinctly 
recognizable  personalities.  True,  we  can  observe 
the  behaviour  of  the  circles  from  which  sprang  the 
Psalms  of  Solomon,  we  can  lay  our  hand  upon  the 
devout  breast  of  the  jiseudo-Ezra,  we  can  enter 
into  the  spirit  of  the  author  of  1  Maccabees  or 
Sirach  ;  but  how  diverse  are  even  these  few  casual 
types,  and  how  impossible  is  it  to  make  them  fit 
into  one  harmonious  picture  !  What,  again,  do  we 
know  of  the  Ethics  of  the  Greek  or  Sadducean 
party  ?  What  vogue  had  the  Essenes  among  the 
people  ?  Are  the  Pharisees  of  the  Psalms  of  Solo- 
mon identical  with  those  of  the  time  of  Jesus  ? 
And,  above  all,  what  significance  for  our  problem 
has  the  Talmud,  so  often  named,  so  little  known  ? 
Here,  in  sober  truth,  so  many  unsolved  enigmas 
await  the  historian,  that  one  cannot  but  marvel  at 
the  assurance  of  those  who,  in  face  of  them  all,  are 
ready  to  sketch  the  Ethics  of  later  Judaism  as  a 
foil  for  the  Etliics  of  Jesus.  We  for  our  part 
renounce  any  such  design.  We  have  not  the  darin" 
to  institute  a  comparison  between  the  Ethics  of 
Jesus  and  the  complicated  historical  phenomena 
of  the  period,  and  then,  as  impartial  judges,  to 
proceed  to  measure  out  the  light  and  shade.  We 
content  ourselves  with  the  question.  How  didJesiis 
regard  and  estimate  the  Judaism  of  His  time?  It 
is  beyond  doubt  that  His  moral  sense  was  chafed 
by  many  things,  and  in  particular  by  Pharisaism, 
and  that  a  material  part  of  His  teaching  was  for- 
mulated in  anta^'ciiiisiii  to  the  Rabbis.  We  too 
must  feel  this  antagonism,  if  we  are  ever  to  under- 
stand Him. 

If,  again,  we  are  required  to  answer  the  ques- 
tion as  to  wherein  consists  the  new  and  original 
element  in  the  Ethics  of  Jesus,  we  are  brought  to  a 
complete  standstill.  In  His  conflict  with  Ilabbinism 
He  is  in  close  alliance  with  the  Prophets,  and  is 
certainly  not  outside  their  influence.  But  to 
assume  tliat  a  great  gulf  is  fixed  between  the 
religion  of  the  Proi)hets  and  Psalmists  and  that  of 
later  Juclaism,  is  to  forget  that  a  goodly  part  of 
both  the  Prophets  and  the  P.salms  was  a  contribu- 
tion of  the  post-exilic  period,  and,  above  all,  to 
overlook  the  fact  that  these  writings  form  the 
background,  or,  we  might  even  .say,  the  native  soil 
of  Judaism.  However  profoundly  they  were  mis- 
understood, still  it  was  not  possible  to  prevent  the 
intermittent  welling  up,  from  the  soil,  of  many  a 
copious  spring  ;  and  many  a  document  of  the  later 
period  bears  clear  testimony  to  their  influence. 
Thus  we  can  do  full  justice  to  the  moral  creed  of 
Jesus  only  by  giving  adequate  consideration  to  the 


circumstance  that  He  lived  in  intimate  sympathy 
and  steadfast  accord  with  the  noblest  anddevoutest 
thoughts  of  His  jieople's  Bible.  Hence,  if  in  view 
of  these  facts  we  inquire  concerning  the  originality 
of  Jesus,  tlie  result  will  be  a  surprise.  For  we 
shall  find  that  nl  ulincist  all  His  ethical  ideas  there 
are  anticipations,  precedents,  and  even  parallels 
in  the  OT,  as  also  in  contemporary  Judaism.  A 
mere  glance  at  any  collection  of  parallels,  such  as 
that  of  Wetstein,  will  be  sutficient  to  purge  us 
of  the  notion  that  the  uniqueness  or  greatness  of 
Jesus  consists  in  the  novelty  of  His  ethical  teach- 
ing. Theology  is  still  tainted  with  the  propensity, 
inherited  from  Rationalism,  to  see  in  the  produc- 
tion of  ideas  the  all  but  exclusive  factor  in  the 
making  of  history  or  the  progress  of  man.  It 
often  fails  to  realize  how  plentiful  ideas  are  in 
times  that  are  spiritually  alive,  or  how  in  all 
ages  humanity  has  been  enabled  to  take  a  step  in 
advance  only  by  the  emergence  of  a  personality  who, 
with  unwonted  energy,  sincerity,  and  enthusiasm, 
absorbed,  elaborated,  and  formed  anew  from  his 
individual  experience  the  choicest  products  of  his 
age.  So  with  Jesus  ;  His  ideas  as  such  are  neither 
so  novel  nor  so  revolutionary  as  to  create  a  new 
world  ;  they  derive  their  procreative  virtue  solely 
from  the  fact  that  He  made  them  His  own,  lived 
them,  and  died  for  them. 

From  these  preliminaries  we  turn  to  the  exposi- 
tion proper,  premising  that  we  shall  on  principle 
iient 
Our 

purpose  is  to  survey  the  figure  of  Jesus  in  its 
specific  operation,  and  what  better  situation  for 
this  can  we  find  than  the  actual  scene  of  His  con- 
flict with  His  environment  ?  It  was  the  friction 
with  that  environment  which  kindled  the  fire 
within  Him  ;  it  was  His  unconformity  with  it  that 
gave  Him  the  conviction  of  His  peculiar  heritage. 
Just  as  His  anger  at  the  profanation  of  the  Temple 
moved  Him  to  an  involuntary  display  of  a  religious 
feeling  superior  to,  and  more  delicate  than,  that  of 
His  fellows,  so  His  collision  with  the  leading  repre- 
sentatives of  Judaism  evokes  from  Him  not  merely 
an  indignant  criticism,  but  also  a  manifestation  of 
His  ovra  inherent  character.  In  this  connexion 
the  great  discourse  against  the  Scribes  and  Phari- 
sees in  Mt23  (cf.  Lk  IP'-^:)  furnishes  invaluable 
testimony.  Even  if  its  artificial  form  (cf.  the  seven 
Woes)  be  derivative,  still  the  majority  of  the  say- 
ings grouped  in  it,  so  expressive  of  individual 
feeling,  so  original  in  form,  unmistakably  show 
the  characteristic  touch  of  Jesus.  In  any  case  the 
discourse  clearly  reveals  the  distinction  He  drew 
between  Himself  and  the  Rabbis,  and  the  traits  in 
the  latter  by  which  the  disciples,  filled  with  His 
spirit,  felt  themselves  repelled.  It  is,  above  all 
things,  the  insinceritij  oi  their  practice,  the  contrast 
between  the  reality  and  the  appearance,  which  is 
so  vividly  brought  out  in  the  metaphor  of  '  whited 
sepulchres '  (23").  The  supreme  business  of  the 
scribes, — to  which  they  apparently  devoted  them- 
selves with  surpassing  zeal, — viz.  tlie  instruction  of 
the  people  in  the  law  of  God  (23^),  they  discharged 
in  such  a  way  as  to  superinduce  the  very  reverse 
of  what  was  intended  :  instead  of  bringing  men 
into  the  Kingdom  (23'*)  they  keep  them  out  by  im- 
posing intolerable  burdens,  in  the  bearing  of  which 
they  render  not  the  slightest  help.  It  is,  in  fact, 
evident  that  the  work  of  leading  men  to  God  was 
for  them  a  matter  of  no  conseq^uence  whatever.  A 
glaring  light  is  thrown  likewise  upon  the  propa- 
ganda of  the  Pharisees  (23") :  under  tlieir  tutelage 
a  proselyte  becomes  a  child  of  hell,  tw  in-  :i-  «  irked 
as  themselves  (or,  as  it  was  probaMy  s|„,k,-ii  at 
first,  twice  as  wicked  as  he  was  lieiure).  These 
severe  verdicts  show  at  a  glance  how  higlily  Jesus 
estimated  the  sacred  and  responsible  otiice  of  the 


ETHICS 


ETHICS 


545 


leaders  of  the  people,  which  they  so  direly  abused. 
With  keen  moral  indignation  He  passes  sentence 
upon  the  complacent  and  self-seeking  father- 
confessors,  who,  on  the  pretext  of  pastoral  zeal, 
with  'long  prayers'  devour  widows'  houses  (Mk 
12*).  He  shows  inimitably  the  unscrupulousness 
of  their  over-scrupulosity  :  straining  out  gnats  and 
swallowing  camels,  tliey  are  squeamish  and  strait- 
laced  in  regard  to  trifles,  in  tlie  great  moral  matters 
lax  for  themselves  and  lenient  to  others,  even  to 
the  point  of  apathy— and  such  has  ever  since  been 
the  practice  of  a  hierarchy  clothed  with  authority 
(23-^).  In  these  utterances  Jesus  reproves  chiefly  the 
scribes'  insensibility  to  the  primary  moral  sanctions ; 
they  keep  cup  and  platter  clean,  but  are  indift'erent 
to  the  nature  of  the  contents ;  non  olet,  even  though 
it  has  been  accumulated  by  selfishness  and  greed, 
and  is  gorged  with  unbridled  self-indulgence  (23'''). 
While  with  painful  precision  they  attend  to  the 
tithing  of  the  meanest  garden  produce,  they 
neglect  the  weightiest  matters  of  the  Law — justice, 
mercy,  and  faithfulness  (23^).  In  harmony  with 
Mic  6*  He  enunciates  the  principle  that  the  primary 
imperatives  of  morality  surpass  all  ceremonial  pre- 
scriptions in  importance  and  urgency  — a  truth 
which,  though  ancient,  needs  ever  to  be  emphasized 
anew.  There  can  be  no  dubiety  as  to  the  purport 
of  'justice'  or  'mercy'  in  this  passage;  they  are 
meant  to  cover  the  great  social  obligations  of  the 
ruling  to  the  dependent  classes — the  non-perversion 
of  the  Law,  the  succour  of  widows  and  orphans, 
the  relief  of  the  poor.  As  to  the  third  injunction, 
the  Evangelists  do  not  seem  to  have  been  sure  of 
its  meaning;  for  'faithfulness'  St.  Luke  (U''-) 
substitutes  the  '  love  of  God,'  probably  interpret- 
ing Triirris  as  '  faith '  (as  EV).  Without  doubt, 
however,  Jesus  intends  this  word  also  to  connote  a 
social  and  moral  duty,  viz.  trustworthiness  and 
candour  in  human  relationships. 

Mt.  has  in  this  verse  inserted  a  clause  (23-^'') 
which  should  almost  certainly  be  deleted  from  Lk. 
(11''^),  as  a  gloss  involving  a  certain  modification  of 
the  command.  The  preceding  verses  might  lead  us 
to  infer  that  Jesus  did  not  only  set  less  store  by 
the  ceremonial  law,  but  was  \villing  to  do  away  with 
it  altogether.  This,  however,  says  St.  Matthew, 
is  not  His  meaning:  'These  (moral  duties)  ought 
ye  to  have  done,  and  not  to  leave  the  other  undone.' 
The  Evangelist  is,  in  fact,  keenly  solicitous  lest 
Jesus  be  regarded  as  hostile  to  the  Mosaic  law,  as 
he  shows  also  in  5"  and  the  prefatory  words  23^'- 
(neither  passage  in  Lk. ),  implying  that  the  teaching 
of  the  scribes  is  good,  but  that  their  works  are 
evil,  since  they  do  not  practise  what  they  preach. 
Taking  into  consideration  the  writer's  date  and 
point  of  view,  we  can  quite  well  understand  the 
words ;  but  we  naturally  ask  whether  this  con- 
ciliatory and  conservative  attitude  towards  the 
ceremonial  law  truly  re  resents  the  mind  of  Jesus? 

The  words  about  the  cleansing  of  cups  and 
platters,  and  about  the  tithing  of  mint,  anise,  and 
cummin,  certainly  sound  so  contemptuous  as  to 
compel  us  to  ask  whether  Jesus  set  any  value  what- 
ever upon  the  ceremonial  side  of  the  Law,  and,  in 
particular,  upon  the  special  casuistical  precepts  of 
the  scribes.  The  question  may  be  answered  pro- 
visionally and  generally  :  Jesus  was  not  a  Pharisee, 
and  this  means  that  His  attitude  towards  many  of 
the  scribal  maxims  was  a  dissentient  one  ;  He  was 


not  a  Judiean,  but  a  son  of  the  Galilsean  peasantry, 
who  knew  how  to  evade  the  authority  of  Pharisaic 
doctors  and  lawyers,  and  who  were,  in  consequence, 
liable  to  the  curse  merited  by  those  who  '  know  not 
the  law '(Jn  7^');  and,  accordingly.  He  regards  Him- 
self and  His  followers  likewise  as  above  tlie  Phari- 
sees' rules  about  purifying.  But  we  also  find  ex- 
plicit remonstrances  against  the  '  traditions  of  the 
elders '  so  dear  to  the  scribes  (Mk  7^-  "•  '^) ;  He  char- 
VOL.  I.— 35 


acterizes  them  summarily  as  the  '  prescriptions ' 
(EV  '  tradition ')  of  men  (7*),  thus  contrasting  them 
with  the  commandments  of  God.  In  tliis  He 
evinces  His  independent  attitude,  for  a  genuine 
Pharisee  could  live  only  by  the  belief  that  the 
additions  to  and  amplifications  of  the  Law,  even  if 
devised  by  human  teachers,  were  yet  expressive  of 
God's  will.  But  Jesus  goes  still  further,  affirming 
positively  that  in  their  concern  for  these  traditions 
the  scribes  reject,  pervert,  and  even  make  void  the 
commandment  of  God  (7*- ").  He  gives  as  an  ex- 
ample the  gross  case  of  one  who  evades  the  plain 
human  duty  of  supporting  his  parents  by  the 
manoeuvre  of  dedicating  to  the  Temple  the  money 
he  might  have  spared  for  them  :  once  the  fateful 
word  '  Corban '  is  spoken,  then  every  penny  so 
consecrated  belongs  to  God,  and  is,  as  sacred  pro- 
perty, interdicted  from  all  secular  uses,  and  so 
from  that  of  the  parents.  It  is  bad  enough  that  a 
son  should  so  act ;  but  that  jurists  and  theologians 
iiho\x\A.  permit  him  henceforward  to  turn  his  back 
upon  father  ahd  mother,  should  declare  his  pledge 
to  be  inviolable,  and  refuse  to  '  release  '  him  from 
it,  is  neither  more  nor  less  than  the  disannulling  of 
the  Fifth  Commandment.* 

Now  the  assertion  that  the  great  moral  de- 
mands of  God's  law  are  of  more  importance  than 
any  ceremonial  obligations,  is  primarily  directed 
only  against  the  traditions  and  prescriptions  of 
the  Rabbis ;  in  reality,  however,  it  is  a  principle 
which  threatens  the  very  foundations  of  the  Mosaic 
system.  Already  in  the  OT  we  see  the  strained 
relations  between  prophetic  piety  and  priestly 
legality — brothers  again  and  again  at  variance. 
In  the  personality  and  preaching  of  Jesus  the  pro- 
phetic religion  reappears  with  unparalleled  force 
and  clearness,  and  braces  itself  to  the  work  of 
overthrowing  the  fabric  of  Levitical  ceremonialism. 
To  treat  the  ethical  and  the  ritual  law  as  of  equal 
validity  belongs  to  the  very  nature  of  the  priestly 
theocracy  :  the  moment  the  former  is  placed  on  a 
higher  level  the  whole  edifice  becomes  insecure. 
In  this  reference  St.  Mark  preserves  a  short  but 
pregnant  saying  of  Jesus  (7'°),  viz.  '  There  is 
nothing  from  without  the  man  that  going  into  him 
can  defile  him,  but  the  things  which  proceed  out 
of  the  man  are  those  which  defile  him.'  As  He 
is  here  speaking  of  clean  and  unclean  meats.  He 
says,  '  Nothing  going  into  the  man,'  but  He  might 
equally  well  say,  and  certamly  means,  '  Nothing 
from  without  the  man  coming  to  him,'  i.e.  coming 
into  contact  with  him.  But  this  is  the  reverse  of 
what  stands  in  the  Law.  For  the  whole  complex 
of  the  Mosaic-Levitical  legislation  rests  upon  the 
postulate  that  a  man  is  defiled  by  outer  contact 
and  contamination,  or  by  partaking  of  certain 
foods,  i.e.  that  he  thereby  becomes  separated  from 
God,  is  excluded  from  the  sanctuary  and  segregated 
from  the  sacred  community.  Now  the  principle 
enunciated  by  Jesus  cuts  the  ground  from  under 
all  the  particular  commandments  of  the  ceremonial 
law.  It  carries,  indeed,  a  dissolving  and  explosive 
force.  But  His  standpoint  differs  from  mere 
rationalistic  '  illuminism  by  having  a  profoundly 
religious  basis.  Jesus  had  so  intense  a  conception 
of  man's  relation  to  God  as  an  ethical  one,  that  He 
could  not  tolerate  the  thought  that  God  would 
exclude  any  one  from  His  presence  merely  because 
he  had  touched  a  corpse  or  eaten  swine's  flesh.  It 
is  the  evil  will,  tlie  impure  lieart,  the  false  nature, 
that  separate  men  from  God. 

All  this,  of  course,  is  self-evident  to  us ;  but 
when  Jesus  uttered  it,  and  acted  upon  it.  He 
found  Himself  at  cross  purposes  -with  the  most  ex- 
emplary personages  of  His  generation,  and  com- 
pelled to  resist  the  drift  of  an  age-long  tradition. 
He  raised  His  voice  not  only  against  the  scribes, 
*  Cf.  J.  Weiss,  oj).  cit.  i.  1,  p.  124 


546 


ETHICS 


ETFIICS 


but  against  the  very  spirit  of  the  Law  they  ex- 
pounded. Moreover,  in  actual  practice,  His  bearing 
towards  the  Law  is  quite  unconstrained.  He  add.s 
to  the  exceptions  already  conceded  by  the  Eabbis 
{e.g.  works  of  necessity  on  the  Sabbath),  and 
allows  both  Himself  and  His  disciples  a  certain 
freedom,  without  taking  counsel  of  the  specialists. 
When  challenged,  He  appeals  to  the  example  of 
David  (Mk  2"-^).  It  is  manifestly  gratifying  to 
the  narrator  that  Jesus  was  able  to  justify  His 
action  so  adroitly  by  the  methods  of  Rabbinical 
exposition.  But  tliis  is  only  an  ex  post  facto 
justification,  of  which  the  disciples  certainly  were 
not  thinking  as  they  plucked  the  com ;  they  had 
acted  witlxout  deliberation,  simply  availing  them- 
selves of  the  freedom  whicli  their  fellowship  with 
Jesus  had  made  a  matter  of  course.  We  learn  the 
true  meaning  of  Jesus  from  the  twofold  declaration 
subjoined  by  St.  Mark  (2'-"-).  Doubtless  wliat  the 
writer  means  is  that  the  'Son  of  man,'  i.e.  tlie 
Messiah,  is  Lord  of  the  Sabbath,  and  can  absolve 
His  disciples  from  its  observance ;  but  originally 
the  saying  must  have  run  thus :  '  Man  has  full 
power  also  over  the  Sabbath,'  wliicli,  again,  is  of 
essentially  the  same  tenor  as  the  other,  viz.  '  the 
Sabbath  was  made  for  man,  not  man  for  the  Sab- 
bath.'* This  saying,  too,  is  more  than  an  article 
in  a  confession ;  it  is  really  a  declaration  of  war 
against  Mosaisra.  Scribe  and  doctor  regard  tlie 
Law  as  an  end  in  itself,  and  obedience  to  it  as  the 
final  purpose  of  human  life,  even  if  such  obedience 
involve  sacrifice,  and  indeed  the  surrender  of  life 
itself.  But  the  assertion  of  Jesus  tliat  the  Law  is 
given  for  man's  sake,  as  something  designed  for  his 
benefit,  and  the  inference  that  he  is  free  from 
it  whenever  its  observance  conflicts  with  liis 
welfare,  proceed  from  an  entirely  different  point 
of  view,  and  have  far-reaching  implications.  The 
rigid  and  doctrinaire  aspect  of  tlie  Law  is  thus 
cancelled  ;  its  behests  are  viewed  as  means  for  the 
realization  of  God's  purposes  of  love  towards  men. 
All  this,  however,  shows  but  the  birth-struggle  of 
an  entirely  new  religious  conception,  destined  in 
its  further  growth  to  do  away  altogether  with  the 
Law  rt,9  Intij.  A  similar  instance  is  the  declaration 
(Mk  IC-)  that  the  Mosaic  regulation  regarding 
divorce  was  a  concession  to  the  Israelites'  hardness 
of  heart,  and  that  it  stands  in  antitliesis  to  the 
statute  originally  promulgated  in  Paradise,  wliich 
alone  is  the  will  of  God  and  the  precedent  for 
man.  Here  tlie  Mosaic  ordinance  is  represented 
as  something  adventitious,  as  merely  marking  a 
stage  meant  to  be  left  behind. 

The  boldness  of  Jesus  in  thus  essaying  to  make 
a  distinction  within  Scripture  itself,  and  to  dis- 
criminate between  the  law  of  God  and  human 
accretions,  is  of  great  moment  for  us.  He  has  re- 
course to  a  mode  of  criticism  which  might  be 
called  subjective,  but  which  really  merits  the 
attribute  prophetic.  This  'Prophet,'  hlled  with 
Deity,  this  great  religious  Personality,  ever  di- 
rectly conscious  of  His  nearness  to  God,  does  not 
shrink  from  giving  judgment  as  to  what  is  the 
actual  purpose  of  the  Most  High.  Just  as  He 
fervidly  announces  the  royal  benignity  of  God 
towards  both  the  evil  and  the  good,  just  as  He 
confidently  speaks  to  the  contrite  of  the  Divine 
forgiveness,  and  without  misgiving  assures  the 
wretched  of  the  Divine  succour,  so  He  also  under- 
takes, in  face  of  the  \:iw  of  Moses,  Mliut  wliich 
was  spoken  to  llie  futli^T^,"  In  m-i  foifh  a  new 
law,  in  the  ;;l,iil    ruii\iriioii  that    lie  i>  ilius  ex- 

firessing  the  will  of  Cod.  Hence  il  is  a  iiiisappre- 
lension  of  the  tenor  and  scope  of  the  '  antitheses ' 
in  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount  to  imagine  that  in 
these  Jesus  is  merely  impugning  the  prevailing 
exegesis  of  tlie  Law,  or  merely  endeavouring  to 
*  See  J.  Weiss,  op.  cit.  i.  1,  p.  87. 


bring  to  liglit  the  real  design  of  its  promulgator. 
No  ;  the  rhythmical  repetition  of  the  phrase,  '  But 
I  say  unto  you,'  makes  it  abundantly  clear  that 
Jesus  is  here  reaching  beyond  Moses.  And  this 
undoubtedly  corresponds  to  the  historical  situa- 
tion. Take,  for  instance,  the  first  two  enactments, 
viz.  regarding  murder  and  adultery ;  it  is  clear 
that  what  Jesus  means  is  that  God  asks  more  than 
mere  abstention  from  these  crimes :  He  demands 
perfect  self-control  and  integrity  of  heart.  The 
unheeded  moments  when  the  animal  nature  starts 
up  in  a  fit  of  anger  or  of  impure  desire  are  griev- 
ously sinful  in  the  eyes  of  God,  as  well  as  the 
actual  misdeeds. 

The  religious-historical  situation  is  as  follows. 
The  Jewish  people  were  under  a  theocracy,  and  for 
them  the  Law  of  Moses  was  by  no  means  restricted 
to  religious  or  moral  matters ;  it  was  at  once  a 
civil  and  a  penal  code,  an  order  of  legal  procedure 
and  a  manual  for  the  priesthood.  Now  it  is  the 
bane  of  a  theocratic  constitution  that  the  Divine 
law,  ingrafted  as  it  is  upon  common  life,  tends  to 
lose  its  majesty  and  inviolability.  It  has  to  adapt 
itself  to  the  varied  facts  of  existence  by  means  of 
saving  clauses  and  casuistical  methods  ;  and  such 
a  regime  fosters  above  all  the  notion  that  the  will 
and  judgment  of  God  reach  no  further  than  the 
arm  of  the  civil  magistrate,  and  that  it  is  only 
the  completed  act,  and  not  the  intention,  that  God 
brings  to  judgment.  Thus  the  moral  relation  of 
man  to  God  sinks  to  the  level  of  a  legal  one. 
Such  a  deterioration  and  externalizing  of  the  re- 
ligious life  must  all  but  inevitably  ensue  «hen  its 
regulation  and  guardianship  are  committed  to 
priests  and  jurists.  It  is  the  '  Propliet,'  however, 
who  now  takes  up  the  word.  With  incisive  force 
He  makes  it  clear  that  God  looks  upon  the  heart, 
the  thought,  the  secret  motions  of  the  soul,  and 
brings  these  things  before  His  judgment-seat,  and 
that  the  sin  of  intention  passes  witli  Him  for  no 
less  than  the  overt  act.  To  assert  such  equiva- 
lence of  thought  and  deed  may  seem  to  us  almost 
to  overshoot  the  mark  ;  for  we  rightly  place  a  high 
value  upon  the  self-command  which  keeps  desire 
from  passing  into  action.  But  the  apparently 
partial  view  is  to  be  reganled  as  the  natural  reac- 
tion of  the  heart  and  the  conscience  against  the 
legalistic  ossification  and  externalization  of  re- 
ligion. 

The  verdict  of  Jesus  upon  divorce  points  in  the 
same  .lircctioii.  'I'li<-  arumiient  upon  which  He 
lin-r,  1 1  i^  ]ii(,liiliiii(iu  ..t    ill.'  M|iaration  permitted 

\>\  Mo^c,  \\\-.  ..ur  all. ■nil. III.     The  statute  laid 

ilo«M  ill  I'ara.li-e  is  to  l.e  preferred,  as  the  law  of 
God,  not  merely  in  virtue  of  its  great  antiquity, 
but  also  on  intrinsic  grounds.  When  a  husband 
puts  away  his  wife,  he  places  her  in  a  position  of 
moral  jeopardy ;  for,  should  slie  associate  herself 
with  another  man,  whether  in  a  .second  marriage 
or  in  a  passing  act  of  immorality,  she  thereby 
completes  the  dissolution  of  tlie  first  marriage, 
wliich  hitherto  was  legally  binding.  The  note- 
worthy element  in  this  utterance  is  not  that  the 
ruptured  matrimonial  union  is  still  binding,  but 
in  particular  that  the  man  is  morally  responsible 
for  his  wife,  even  after  his  dismissal  of  her ;  he 
must  bear  the  guilt  of  her  sin.  Such  is  the  only 
judgment  possible,  if  marriage  is  to  be  regarded 
not  merely  as  a  legal  bond,  under  the  control  of 
the  civil  magistrate,  but  as  a  moral  covenant,  for 
whose  inviolability  men  are  responsible,  not  to  one 
another,  but  to  God.     See  Divorce. 

The  profoundly  irreligious  subtlety  of  the  lawyers 
is  also  exposed  in  Jesus'  prohibition  of  oaths. 
First  of  all  He  shows  that  the  evasions  and  peri- 

Shrases  by  which  those  who  swear  hope  to  escape  the 
anger  of  profaningGod's  holy  name,  are  of  no  avail ; 
every  oath  is  and  remains  an  adjuration  of  God. 


ETHICS 


EUNUCH 


But  more  :  to  the  finer  religious  feelings,  every 
oath  is  a  gratuitous  and  irreverent  bringing  down 
of  the  Most  High  into  the  sordid  and  trivial  con- 
cerns of  the  hour— tlie  grossest  case  lieing  tliat  of 
theimpulsiveOrientnl  wh.i  puts  his  Ih'.uI  in  |iliMli;e, 
as  if  he  had  powri' i,\cr  life  iiml  .h-jlli,  f.n  ^cll  in- 
his  complete  depmiilcnre  uik.ii  ( ;.iil,  .-ind  tli:il  lil'c 
and  death  proceed  from  Him  iil(.n.\  I'lins  .Icmi~ 
supersedes  the  scrupulous  aiixii'ly  .uhI  (Ih'  |ii'lt\ 
evasions  of  the  Rabbis  by  a  niucli  .l.r|i,r  i.^liuicn  . 
motive:  the  oath,  in  truth,  is  l>nl  an  rlcniciil  in  :i 
world  under  the  domination  of  sin  and  Satan  (Ml 
5^'),  and  he  who  feels  God's  majesty  and  purity  in 
his  inmost  soul  will  have  a  sacred  fear  of  bringing 
God  upon  such  a  scene,  and  will  honour  Him  best 


by  the  plain  and  simple  word  of  truth. 

Of  an  entirely  different  character  are  the  two 
final  antitheses,  viz.  those  relating  to  non-resist- 
ance and  love  of  enemies,  as  given  in  Mt  5^"^'  ""■**. 
In  the  foregoing  precepts  we  have  simply  the 
utterances  of  a  more  earnest  moral  sensibility  ; 
here  we  have  the  language  of  exultant  and  heroic 
enthusiasm,  not  meant  to  be  Judged  by  common- 
place standards.  In  lieu  of  the  typically  Jewish 
principle  of  retaliation,  which  was  applied  both  in 
legal  and  in  personal  affairs,  viz.  '  eye  for  eye, 
tooth  for  tooth,'  Jesus  demands  the  entire  renun- 
ciation of  self-defence  or  self-vindication.  Nay 
more ;  it  is  not  mere  tranquil  endurance  that  He 
enjoins,  but  a  readiness  to  j)resent  to  the  assailant 
the  other  cheek,  to  give  more  than  what  is  asked, 
to  surrender  the  cloak  as  well  as  the  coat. 
These  injunctions  differ  from  those  of  St.  Paul 
in  Ro  la'"--!  in  that  they  involve  no  thought  of 
shaming  or  overcoming  the  adversary  by  pliancy 
and  patience.  St.  Paul  would  seem,  in  fact,  to 
have  interpreted  the  words  of  Jesus  in  the  prac- 
tical didactic  sense  of  certain  Stoic  admonitions. 
But  the  distinctive  feature  of  the  passage  in  the 
Sermon  on  the  Mount  is  that  the  demands  are 
made  without  any  reason  being  assigned  or  any 
subordinate  aim  proposed,  precisely,  indeed,  as  if 
their  authority  must  have  been  perfectly  self- 
evident  to  the  disciples.  A  theological  exegesis 
has  barred  the  way  towards  a  right  understanding 
of  them  by  always  starting  from  the  question 
what  these  words  mean  for  us,  and  how  wc  shall 
obey  them.  And  as  a  literal  obedience  to  tliem 
seems  to  us  impossible,  recourse  is  had  to  new 
interpretations  and  modifications,  by  which  the 
strength  of  their  tremendous  claims  is  sapped. 
Instead  of  putting  such  questions,  we  would  rather 
ask  liow  the  words  are  to  be  understood  in  tiieir 
original  setting,  and  how  Jesus  came  to  utter  them 
in  that  form.  Now  it  is  evident  tliat  their  essen- 
tial feature  is  a  tliorough  aversion  to  the  principle 
of  retaliation  by  which  the  ignobler  instincts  of 
the  Jewish  national  spirit  were  sustained  and 
intensified.  This  av , ision  on  the  part  of  Jesus  is 
so  strong  that  the  most  emphatic  utterance  of  the 
opposite  quality  is  for  Him  precisely  the  right 
thing ;  a  consummate  zeal  for  forbearance  and 
renunciation  whets  His  demands  to  their  sharpest 
point.  But  what  is  the  source  of  tliis  enthusiasm  ? 
It  is  no  mere  reformer  of  Jewish  morals  that  speaks 
here,  no  legislator  for  centuries  yet  unborn,  but  the 
herald  and  apostle  of  the  imminent  dissolution  of 
the  world  and  of  the  Kingdom  of  God  already  at 
the  door  !  Hence  a  man  can  prepare  himself  for 
that  day  in  no  more  worthy  or  more  earnest  way 
than  by  the  surrender  of  all  the  present  life  is 
based  upon  —  earthly  repute,  business  capacity, 
personal  property  ;  all  these  are  but  obstacles  and 
fetters.  Whoso  renounces  willingly,  whoso  suffers 
gladly — he  is  truly  free,  and  ready  for  the  great 
day  that  is  at  hand.  We  can  appreciate  and 
vindicate  the  words  only  if  we  interpret  tliem  by 
the  mood  appropriate  to  the  twelfth  hour. 


Jjt't  these  thinjjs  vanish  ail  I 

Their  profit  is  but  small  : 

The  Kingdom  still  lemaineth.' 

'1'!"^    sal nllmsiiisni     pulsates    through    the 

winds  ahoni  ]n\,-  to  (jiiiMiiies.  It  is  unnece.ssary 
III  |iainl  till'  liai  kmimnil  uf  Judaism  too  black,  to 
ia\il  at  Ihr  .Irwisli  'luveto  one's  neighbour '  as 
iiaii.iw  .1)1(1  partial,  or  even  to  lay  too  great  a 
stiiss  iipiin  the  'hatred  of  one's  enemies,'  in  order 
to  iri'l  tli.it  the  demand  of  Jesus  is  not  only  some- 
tliin-  'new,'  Imt  also  a  ijui.ssant,  transcendent, 
snpL'rhumau  iileal.  He  says,  indeed,  that  the  man 
who  so  acts  will  lie  [lerfect  even  as  God  is  perfect, 
a  worthy  child  of  the  all-loving  Father.  Now  it 
cannot  be  sufficiently  urged  that  this  obligation  to 
love  one's  enemies  neither  issues  from  nor  can  be 
fulfilled  amidst  the  normal  emotions  of  everyday 
life.  If  it  is  to  be  real  to  us,  i.e.  truly  realized 
and  not  merely  assumed,  then  it  demands  an  en- 
thusiasm which,  if  not  '  contraiy  to  the  nature,'  is 
certainly  '  beyond  the  power '  of  the  natural  man. 
None  but  the  possessor  of  a  spirit  profoundly  re- 
ligious and  animated  by  the  love  of  God,  could 
possibly  love  his  enemies,  at  all  events  according 
to  the  special  sense  which  Jesus  gave  to  the  uni- 
versal command,  viz.  '  Love  them  which  hate  you, 
pray  for  them  which  despitefully  use  you.' 

Our  view  of  this  supreme  command  of  Jesus  thus 
brings  us  to  the  twofold  law  of  love  (Mk  la^'"'-, 
Lk  lO^'"'^-).  It  is  beyond  question  that  neither 
this  conjoining  of  love  to  God  and  love  to  one's 
neighbour,  nor  the  focusing  of  the  whole  Divine 
law  in  that  '  sunima '  is  a  specifically  original 
thought  of  Jesus.  According  to  the  oldest  form  of 
the  narrative  (Lk  10=^'-),*  He  elicits  it  from  ascribe. 
Possibly  enough  there  were  earnest  and  pious 
Rabbis  who,  amid  the  jungle  of  thousands  upon 
thousands  of  precepts,  sought  for  some  leading 
idea,  and  found  in  the  requirement  of  love  to  God 
and  man  the  nucleus  of  God's  primal  revelation : 
but  none  of  them  was  ever  able  to  carry  such 
unification  and  simplification  into  full  effect.  Here 
again  it  is  not  the  mere  thought  which  matters, 
nor  the  fact  that  Jesus  gave  it  utterance.  The 
great  thing  is  that,  over  and  above.  He  furnished 
in  His  own  life  such  an  embodiment  of  the  Law  as 
carries  conviction  to  all.  In  His  personification 
of  the  ideal  He  welded  the  love  of  God  and  the 
love  of  man  in  an  indissoluble  union,  in  which 
they  might  foster  and  strengthen  each  other.  He 
expressed  the  ideal  in  a  perfect  form,  and  stamped 
it  upon  the  soul  of  the  race.  Since  His  day  it  has 
become  obvious  that  the  highest  form  of  religion 
is  that  from  which  there  radiates  the  soothing, 
genial,  meek,  and  helpful  love  of  mankind ;  obvious 
also,  that  that  love  of  man  is  the  deepest,  the 
truest,  the  most  enduring,  the  most  exacting,  which 
has  its  roots  in  the  depths  of  a  soul  pledged  to  the 
Most  Hi"h,  a  soul  which  is  permeated  by  His 
truth,  and  has  been  apprehended  by  His  holy  and 
gracious  will. 

Literature.— J.  Weisa,  Die  Predigt  Jem  vom  Seiche  Gottes ; 
Bousset,  J'eSM  Predigt  in  ihrem  Gegensatz  zum  Jvdentum; 
Jacoby,  NT  Ethik,  bk.  i.;  R.  Mackintosh,  Christ  and  the  Jewish 

Law.  Johannes  Weiss. 

EUNUCH  (ewvoCxos ;  ffTrdduv  occurs  sometimes  in 
LXX  [see  Gn  37="  and  Is  39',  with  which,  however, 
cf.  the  corresponding  passage  2  K  SO'*]).— From 
the  single  reference  in  the  Gospels  (Mt  19'=)  to  the 
barbarous  Oriental  practice  of  mutilating  indi- 
viduals for  certain  purposes,  we  gather  that  the 
existence  and  purpose  of  eunuchs  as  a  class  were 
not  unknown  to  the  Jews  of  the  time  of  Jesus. 
The  religious  disabilities  under  which  men,  de- 
formed in  this  way,  laboured,  had  the  effect  of 
•  Cf.  J.  Weiss,  op.  cit.  i.  1,  p.  172  II. 


548 


EUNUCH 


EUNUCH 


making  the  practice  (.  .  .  evi'ovxl<rdri<rai>  virb  rii- 
di/epuiTui/)  abominable  to  the  Jews  (Dt  23' ;  cf.  Lv 
2'2^-^).  On  the  other  hand,  Josephus  informs  us 
that  eunuchs  were  a  normal  feature  of  the  courts 
of  the  Herods ;  and  from  him  we  also  learn  what 
share  they  were  at  that  time  supposed  to  have 
taken  in  the  family  intrigues  (Ant.  XV.  vii.  4), 
and  what  base  purposes  they  often  subserved  {Ant. 
XVI.  viii.  1). 

The  passage  containing  the  reference  to  eunuchs 
is  peculiar  to  St.  Matthew,  and  seems  to  be  added 
to  the  Markan  section,  which  deals  with  the 
ciuestion  of  divorce  (Mk  IM-'-  ^Mt  l!i'''i.  from  a 
source  unknown  to  the  author  of  thi-  latter  (see 
Tiscliendorf's  Synops^is  Evdnijiliru'.  s  ll.S.  '  Inter- 
i(.L:antilius  de  Kepudio  respondet";  and  Wright's 
>///(. y/Mv  uf  the  Gospels  in  Greek,  'Anonymous 
I'l ailments,'  p.  267).  The  remark  made  by  the 
iliNciples  touching  the  difficulties  arising  out  of 
Jesus'  interpretation  of  the  law  of  marriage,  shows 
the  widespread  influence  of  the  lax  teacliing  on 
this  subject  cliaracteristic  of  the  school  of  Hillel 
(see  art.  ADULTERY,  p.  30"). 

It  matters  not  for  our  purpose  whether  in  the 
reply  of  Jesus  rdi-  X(57oi'  (v.")  be  connected  with 
ov  crv/iipipei  ya/iTJa-ai  (v."),  or,  which  is  more  intel- 
ligible to  the  present  writer  in  the  light  of  what 
follows,  with  the  primal  law  quoted  in  v.=  (fi-exa 
Toirrov  .  .  .  ol  Suo  El's  o-ctpra  /iiav).  All  men  are  not  in 
a  position  to  accept  a  hard  and  fast  rule.  Men  are 
constituted  differently  by  nature,  or  adventitious 
circumstances  produce  artilicial  dissimilarities. 
There  is  no  question  as  to  the  law  of  nature. 
The  married  life  is  the  norm  of  man's  condition ; 
and  the  union  effected  thereby  transcends  every 
other  natural  bond,  even  that  of  filial  affection. 
At  the  same  time,  Jesus  would  have  His  hearers 
understand  that  there  are  cases,  and  these  numerous 
enough  to  be  taken  seriously  into  account,  where 
the  rule  does  not  hold.  It  is  not  granted  *  to 
every  man  to  be  in  a  position  to  fulfil  the  functions 
of  the  married  state.  Here  it  is  of  interest  to  note 
that  Jesus,  in  speaking  of  three  classes  of  '  eunuchs,' 
was  making  a  distinction  well  known  to  those  He 
was  addressing.  Moreover,  tlie  metaphorical  use 
of  the  word  in  speaking  of  the  third  class  finds 
also  its  place  in  the  language  of  the  Jewish  Rabbins 
n=rT  D-io,  DIN  D-ip,  d:?^  n'^  D-ip,  cf.Lightfoot's  Hora: 
Hcb.et  Talmud. ,  and  Schottgen's  ffora;  ffeb. ,  in  loc. ). 

The  well-known  case  of  Origen,  who  literally 
emasculated  himself  '  for  the  kingdom  of  heaven's 
sake,'  to  which  he  afterwards  seems  to  make 
pathetic,  though  incidental,  reference  in  his  com- 
mentary (m  Matt.  torn.  xv.  1  ft'.),  was  not  the  only 
example  of  a  perverted  interpretation  of  these 
words  of  Jesus.  The  Talmudic  tractate  Skabbath 
(152«)  contains  a  reference  to  a  eunuch  of  this  class 
(cf.  Midrash  on  Ec  10'),  and  the  Council  of  Nictea 
(c.  1)  felt  called  on  to  deal  with  tlie  danger,  as  did 
also  the  Apostolical  Cano7i.9  (c.  21),  and  the  Second 
Council  of  Aries  (c.  7).  The  common  sense  which 
thus  prevailed  amongst  the  guiding  spirits  of  the 
Church  is  enhanced  when  we  remember,  that  the 
disabilities  attaching  to  self-mutilation  had  no 
reference  to  those  who  were  eunuchs  from  their 
motlier's  womb,  or  who  'were  made  eunuchs  by 
men  '  (see  for  examples  of  both,  Eusebius,  HE  vii. 
32  ;  Socrates,  HE  vi.  15  ;  Sozomen,  HE  viii.  24  ; 
cf.  Bingham's  ^«<.  iv.  9). 

It  is  not  without  significance  that  in  tlie  con- 
versation of  Jesus  with  His  disciples  no  mention  is 
made  of  any  word  of  condemnation  by  Him  of  the 
horrible  practice  of  emasculation.  The  complete 
lack  of  the  sense  of  the  dignity  of  human  life,  so 
characteristic  of  the  ancient  world,  and  the  absence 
of  the  feeling  of  human  brotherhood,  found  ex- 
pression in  no  more  terrible  way  than  in  this  con- 
'  The  Lewis-Gibson  Syri.ic  Palimpsest  adds  'by  tiod.' 


sequence  of  the  laws  of  slavery.  Yet  Jesus  refers 
directly  neither  to  the  institution  of  slavery  nor  to 
this,  its  result.  He  prefers  the  plan  of  instilling 
principles  which  lead  by  the  processes  of  thought 
and  application  to  the  recognition  that  God  hath 
'  made  of  one  (ef  ei-As)  every  nation  of  men  for  to 
dwell  on  all  the  face  of  the  earth'  (Ac  17=«;  cf.  Lk 
l,,jsff.  425rr._  ]^it  8"  =  Lk  13-^).  It  is  as  if  He  had  an 
unconquerable  belief  in  the  power  of  the  human 
mind  ultimately  to  accept  the  truth,  and  to  reject, 
finallj'  and  for  ever,  what  has  been  false,  in  its 
provisional  solutions  of  life's  problems. 

And  as  it  was  with  His  treatment  of  this  form 
of  cruelty  practised  by  the  strong  upon  the  help- 
less, so  it  was  with  the  mutilation  of  the  body  self- 
inflicted  for  so-called  religious  purposes.  To  the 
present  writer  it  seems  probable  that  Jesus  made  a 
conscious  and  deliberate  reference  to  this  practice 
(see  Driver's  'Deuteronomy'  in  hiternat.  Crit.  Com. 
on  Dt  23').  Here,  too,  there  is  no  condemnation 
expressed  of  an  inadequate  and  artificial  method 
which  was  the  outcome  of  a  legalistic  conception 
of  moral  purity.  It  is  rather  by  His  positive  teach- 
ing on  the  subject  of  purity  that  we  are  led  to 
understand  (o  Svva)ievo^  x^P"''  X'^P^^^w)  what  are  the 
lines  along  which  we  must  move  in  order  to  reach 
the  goal  of  perfect  self-renunciation.  Tliere  is 
another  and  a  more  excellent  way  of  i.litaiiiiii-  tlie 
mastery  of  the  sexual  passion  than  liy  liti-raiij' 
'cutting  off'  the  oft'ending  fleshly  imiulper  (if.  Mt 
528f.  .where  the  words  ^Xiirav  and  6<p0a\fj.oi  point  to 
the  radical  character  of  the  treatment  insisted  on 
by  Jesus).  The  peculiarity  about  His  method  of 
treating  this  particular  question  is  its  loving 
cautiousness.  It  is  not  possible  for  all,  but  it  is 
possible  for  some,  to  obtain  as  complete  an  ascend- 
ency over  this  strong  instinct  as  if  they  were 
physically  sexless ;  while,  of  course,  the  resultant 
moral  victory  is  of  infinitely  more  value  than  the 
merely  negative,  unmoral  condition  produced  by 
self-emasculation.  Those  who  adopt  His  method 
I  make  themselves  eunuchs'  with  a  definite  purpose 
in  view  (5ia  Ti)v  ^aviXelav  tuv  oipavOiv),  and  the  in- 
terests which  are  created  bj'  that  purpose  are  so 
absorbing  that  neither  time  nor  opportunity  is 
given  to  the  '  fleshly  lusts  which  war  against  the 
sour(l  P2"). 

The  clear  and  definite  teaching  of  Jesus  on 
the  subject  of  marriage  will  help  to  elucidate  the 
words  under  review.  The  Divine  idea  (utrTc  ovKiri. 
daXv  bio  dXXa  Alio  ffdpf,  Mk  lO^),  on  which  He  laid 
special  stress,  invohes  mutual  eflbrt  and  restraint. 
It  is  not  possible  but  that  even  under  the  most 
favourable  circumstances  duties  will  arise  which 
will  prove  irksome,  and  not  less  so  because  they 
are  peculiar  to  the  married  state.  Indeed,  the 
Hebraistic  iaovTon  tU  (Heb.  h  n;ri)  emphasizes  the 
truth  that  perfect  union  does  not  follow  at  once  on 
the  consummation  of  marriage.  It  is  a  gradual 
process,  and,  because  it  is  so,  it  involves  some 
amount  of  mutual  self-abnegation.  The  cares  and 
responsibilities  which  follow  in  the  wake  of  those 
who  are  married  necessarily  mean  absorption  both 
of  time  and  attention  which  may  clash  with  the 
work  given  to  some  to  do  (cf.  1  Co  7^'-).  It  is  for 
this  reason  that  these  find  themselves  debarred 
from  ever  undertaking  the  duties  attaching  to 
marriage.  They  voluntarily  uiideitake  eunuchism 
because  they  are  completely  immersed  in,  and  en- 
grossed by,  the  work  of  'the  kingdom  of  heaven.' 
"There  is  no  need  to  suppose,  as  Keim  does,  that 
Jesus  is  here  deliberately  referring  to  Himself  and 
to  the  Baptist.  At  the  same  time,  we  are  able  to 
see  -in  His  life  the  highest  expression  of  that 
'  blessed  eunuchism '  (Bengel,  Gnomon  of  the  NT, 
in  loc.)  which  renounced  all  earthly  ties  for  the 
sake  of  the  work  He  was  given  to  do  *  (cf.  Jii  l'*) ; 
•  .See  Clem.  Alex.  Strmn.  iii.  §  Iff. 


EVANGELIST 


EVANGELIST 


549 


and  if  8t.  Paul,  in  view  of  a  wteru  emergency,  felt 
justified  in  enjoining  upon  even  tlie  married  the 
necessity  of  adojiting  this  condition  (see  1  Co  7-"), 
we  know  that  he  was  speaking  from  tlie  plane  on 
which  he  himself  stood  (cf.  1  Co  9=  7"-)-  At  the 
same  time,  the  apparent  liarslmess  of  his  asceticism 
is  softened  by  his  repeated  expressions  of  regard 
for  the  gift  peculiar  to  each  {!Slov  x'^P'^'^I'-''-)-  '^^^' 
further,  art.  Marriage. 

Literature.  —  aicy.  Brit.^  art.  'Eunuch';  Neander,  Ch. 
Hist.  [Clark's  ed.)  ii.  493 ;  Morison,  Com.  on  ML  in  loc.  \  Wendt, 
Teaching  of  Jesus,  ii.  72  ff.;  Expositor,  iv.  vii.  [1893]  294  ff. 

J.  R.  Willis. 

EVANGELIST.— Although  the  word  'evangelist' 
(ei'ci77eXi(rT^s)  does  not  occur  in  the  Gospels,  it 
justly  finds  a  place  in  this  work  because  it  is  the 
name  commonly  given  to  the  authors  of  the  four 
Gospels.  The  verb  (vayycKlieadai.,  from  which  the 
substantive  '  evangelist '  is  derived,  signifies  to 
proclaim  good  tidings.  The  corresponding  verbs 
m  Hebrew  and  Aramaic  (Dalman,  NHWB,  s.v. 
-ie^.  Words  of  Jcsu.i,  103)  sometimes  bear  only  the 
meaning  'announce,'  but  their  prevailing  import 
is  to  announce  good  tidings.  There  is  no  reason  to 
doubt  that  the  Aramaic  word  or  words  used  by  our 
Lord  concerning  His  message  to  mankind  described 
it  as  the  proclamation  of  good  news.  Hence  in 
Christian  circles  the  term  acquired  the  specific 
sense  of  announcing  the  gospel.  The  word  'evan- 
gelist' is  not  found  in  classical  Greek  or  in  the 
LXX,  nor  has  it  as  yet  been  found  in  any  papyri. 
So  far  as  our  present  knowledge  goes,  it  belongs 
only  to  the  NT  and  to  ecclesiastical  Greek.  It  is 
used  thrice  in  the  NT,  and  in  none  of  the  instances 
is  its  meaning  doubtful.  It  is  apidied  to  Philip 
(Ac  21*),  either  because  of  the  laljours  described  in 
Ac  8,  or  because  he  belonged  to  a  class  or  order  of 
Christian  labourers  whose  function  was  to  go  abroad 
proclaiming  the  gospel  to  those  who  had  not  heard 
it.  In  the  Epistle  to  the  Ephesians,  '  evangelists ' 
are  mentioned  (4")  as  an  order  or  class,  after 
the  Apostles  and  prophets,  and  before  pastors  and 
teachers.  Here,  too,  the  most  probable  view  is 
that  those  spoken  of  were  missionary  preachers. 
Again,  Timothy  is  charged  by  St.  Paul  (2  Ti  #)  to 
'  do  the  work  of  an  evangelist.'  Wliether  Timothy 
is  here  called  an  evangelist  is  open  to  discussion, 
but  the  nature  of  the  work  he  is  bidden  to  perform 
is  clear  :  he  is  to  visit  new  comnmnities  in  order  to 
preach  the  gospel  to  them.  The  force  of  the  word 
suggested  by  its  etymology  is,  therefore,  the  mean- 
ing attaching  to  it  in  the  three  passages  of  the  NT 
where  it  is  found.  This  is  the  view  of  all  modern 
scholars  of  any  note.  Some  of  the  Greek  ex^josi- 
tors,  misled  by  the  usage  of  their  own  time, 
assigned,  at  least  to  the  passayr  in  l'",phrsi.iiis,  the 
sense  which  it  came  tr  bear  miIimm|iic'ii(,  to  NT 
time.s,  that  of  author  or  writei  of  -.,  (;,,~|i,-l;  but 
this  interpretation  has  no  supporters  to-day. 

How  did  this  second  sense  arise  ?  Can  any  links 
of  connexion  be  traced  between  the  earlier  and  the 
later  signification ';  Is  it  possible  to  ascertain  the 
time  at  which  the  later  usago  began  ?  Tliese  ques- 
tions are  best  answered  liy  st.udyinu  (hi'  references 
to  the  term  in  the  Chunk  Ui>;tnni  .'.t  iMisel.ius.  It 
is  obvious  at  once  that  Kusel)ius  had  twn  senses  of 
the  word  before  him ;  that  he  knew  that  its  original 
import  was  a  jireacher  (jf  the  gospel,  but  that  this 
meaning  had  lieen  largely  displaced  by  anotlier, 
that  of  a  writer  of  a  Gospel.  Speakiiiu  i;('nerall\-, 
the  Church  in  the  age  of  Eusrl.ln-  iiiiJ- V  In,,,!  Uy 
the   word   ' evangeli-st '   the    \m  i  '    >  |iei, 

though  scholars  like  Eusebins  1 -     iw.ire 

that  in  earlier  thnes  it  had  bniih   n     i'    imej. 

Accordingly  the  refereuci's  .>!  Iji  rliin,  I..  Ilie 
original  force  of  the  leim  .nc  .ill  :i-..ri,il,',l  \(i(li 
the  earlier  history  of  the  ( 'Ininli.  Tlin^  lie  lel.iies 
that  the  ApostleThomas  sent  Thuil.l^.u.  l,,  E.h;ssa 


as  a  [ireacher  and  evangelist  of  the  teaching  of 
Christ  (HE  I.  xiii.  4).  Again  he  speaks  of  tho.se 
who  in  the  age  of  Trajan  started  out  on  long 
journeys  and  performed  the  office  of  an  evangelist, 
tilled  with  the  desire  to  preach  Chri.st  to  those  who 
had  not  heard  the  word  of  faith,  and  to  deliver  to 
them  the  Divine  (;os|iels  (III.  xxxvii.  2).  Once  more, 
he  tells  that  I'aiitanus  was  a  herald  of  the  gospel  of 
Christ  to  the  nations  of  tlie  East,  and  that  he  was 
sent  as  far  as  India.  For,  he  adds,  there  were  still 
many  evangelists  of  the  word  who  sought  earnestly 
to  use  their  insiiired  zeal,  after  the  example  of  the 
Apostles,  for  the  building  up  of  the  Divine  word 
(V.  X.  2).  In  all  these  passages  'evangelist'  evi- 
dently denotes  an  itinerant  preacher  of  the  gospel. 
On  the  other  hand,  when  Eusebius  names  John  the 
evangelist  (III.  xxxix.  5),  he  is  speaking  of  him  as 
the  author  of  the  Gospel,  and  the  reference  to  the 
voice  of  the  inspired  evangelists  and  Apostles 
(11.  iii.  1)  is  probably  to  be  explained  in  the  same 
sense.  How  then  was  the  transition  eft'ected  from 
the  one  of  these  significations  to  the  other  1  How 
was  the  title  transferred  from  a  preacher  to  a 
writer?  There  are  those  who  think  that  even 
from  the  first  the  term  denoted  not  so  much  a 
travelling  preacher  in  general  as  a  preacher  who 
set  himself  to  relate  the  life  and  words  of  Jesus. 
Teaching  and  specific  teaching  regarding  the  ad- 
dresses delivered  by  Jesus  and  the  miracles  He 
l^jerformed  was  a  characteristic  of  the  evangelist 
from  the  first,  hence  there  is  little  difficulty  in 
realizing  how  the  title  passed  from  those  who 
related  to  those  who  wrote  our  Lord's  life,  the 
latter  meaning  being  only  the  natural  development 
of  the  former.  Even  a  scholar  like  Meyer  (in  Ac 
21*)  affirms  that  the  chief  duty  of  the  evangelist 
was  to  conmiunicate  to  his  hearers  historical  inci- 
dents from  the  ministry  of  Jesus,  and  some  later 
writers  of  all  schools  have  embraced  the  same 
view.  It  is  believed  to  be  corroborated  by  the 
language  just  quoted  from  Eusebius  regarding  the 
distribution  of  the  written  Gospels  by  evangelists. 
But  there  is  nothing  to  show  that  the  first  evan- 
gelists of  the  Church  made  special  use  of  the  facts 
of  our  Lord's  life,  and  that  their  teaching  or  preach- 
ing differed  in  this  respect  from  that  of  the  Apostles. 
The  wide  acceptation  in  which  the  words  '  evangel ' 
and  'evangelize'  are  used  in  the  NT  is  adverse 
to  this  conclusion.  The  earliest  gospel  was  not 
the  life  of  Jesus,  but  the  message  of  salvation.  To 
preach  the  gospel  was  necessarily  to  preach  Jesus, 
but  not  to  give  any  skcleh  of  the  life  of  Jesus  such 
as  is  found  in  um  lom  tiospels.  Nor  is  the  view 
probable  in  iisill.  A  iniidern  missionary  relates 
the  life  of  .lesus  ,is  ]ie  sees  it  expedient,  but  ho 
does  not  make  the  communication  of  the  details  of 
that  life  to  his  hearers  one  of  his  chief  duties. 
The  same  freedom  was  doubtless  exercised  in  the 
earliest  ages  of  the  Church.  One  evangelist  would 
tell  less  and  another  more  of  the  life  of  Jesus  as  he 
preached.  Even  the  same  evangelist  would  vary 
the  amount  of  detail  he  gave  regarding  the  life  and 
words  of  Jesus  according  to  the  varying  needs  of 
his  hearers.  Beyond  all  doubt  most  of  the  ad- 
dresses delivered  by  the  evangelists  were  largely 
occupied  by  an  account  of  the  career  of  Jesus,  and 
especially  of  Tlis  sayiiius  and  His  miracles  ;  but 
tliis  was  hue  (.f  c'\ery  person  who  sought  to  propa- 
uate  Chiisliaiiitw  an. I  iK.t  distinctive  of  the  evan- 
yvlisl  as  ^nrli.'  l-'nilhi'i-,  it  is  difficult  on  this 
liypelliesis  III  e\|ilaiii  the  fact  that  the  original 
si^nilii  al  inn  111  ■  i\  aiiL:elist '  as  a  preacher  was 
riinent  liinu  afhr  llir  ( lospels  had  obtained  the 
fnlli.t  ieii.m,iii,,n  »iil,in  the  Church.  The  evan- 
i^elisls  earrieil  I  lir  (  e.-pels  willi  them  if  they  were 
fortunate  eniiiiuli  lo  po-.^..^-  ropies:  they  referred 
to  the  toisjieN  a-  llie  aulllonlies  for  the  life  of 
Je-us,  yet    they  letaineil   their  title.     There  is  no 


EVANGELIST 


EVIL 


evidence  that  the  later  meaning  drove  out  the 
earlier  so  long  as  the  Church  possessed  evangelists 
or  called  them  by  this  name.  Undoubtedly  the 
two  meanings  flourislied  side  by  side  for  a  time. 

If  this  argument  is  sound,  the  origin  of  the  later 
import  of  the  term  must  be  sought  in  another 
quarter.  That  quarter  is  not  remote.  The  Church 
possessed  from  early  days  four  narratives  of  our 
Lord's  life,  and  to  these  first  the  term  '  Gospel ' 
and  subsequently  its  plural  '  Gospels '  was  applied. 
It  was  necessary  to  refer  to  these  writings  indi- 
vidually, hence  there  arose  the  practice  of  speak- 
ing of  the  Gospel  according  to  Matthew  and 
the  like :  Matthew  being  regarded  as  the  author 
of  the  Gospel  bearing  his  name.  Very  soon  it 
became  necessary  to  find  a  term  to  serve  as  a 
common  designation  of  the  \\Titers  of  the  Gospels. 
No  more  suitable  word  for  this  purpose  could  be 
found  than  'evangelist.'  It  was  already  in  use  in 
the  Church  ;  it  stood  in  the  closest  affinity  to  tlie 
word  '  evangel'  or  'gospel,'  which  had  acquired  by 
this  time  its  new  sense  of  a  written  work,  and  the 
term  once  applied  proved  so  useful  that  it  imme- 
diately became  popular.  Just  as  the  term  'gospel,' 
which  denoted  a  spoken  message,  an  announce- 
ment of  good  news,  the  Christian  good  news,  was 
current  long  before  the  written  books  called  Gospels 
existed,  and  nevertheless  gave  its  name  to  them, 
so  also  was  it  with  the  term  'evangelist.'  By  a 
similar  transition  it  became  the  designation  of  the 
writers  of  the  Gospels.  After  the  word  '  Gospel ' 
was  used  to  denote  a  ivritten  narrative  of  the  life 
of  Jesus,  the  extension  of  the  meaning  of  the  word 
'  evangelist '  to  designate  the  author  of  such  a 
work  was  only  a  question  of  time. 

Is  it  possible  to  ascertain  the  date  at  which  tlie 
term  was  first  used  in  this  specific  sense?  The 
evidence  at  present  available  shows  that  it  was 
thus  employed  by  Hippolytus  and  by  Tertullian. 
The  first  occurrence  of  the  word  is  in  the  de 
Antkhr.  of  Hippolytus  (56),  where  St.  Luke  is 
spoken  of  as  'the  Evangelist.'  The  generally 
accepted  date  of  this  treatise  is  about  the  year  201 
(Harnack,  Chronol.  ii.  214  ;  Bardenhewer,  Altkirch. 
Lit.  ii.  521).  Tertullian  in  his  adv.  Pmx.,  which 
has  been  a-ssigned  to  the  years  213-218  (Barden- 
hewer, ii.  368 ;  Harnack,  li.  286),  speaks  of  '  the 
preface  of  John  the  Evangelist'  (21,  ef.  23).  This 
evidence  shows  tliat  towards  the  beginning  of  the 
3rd  cent,  the  term  was  used  to  denote  the  authors 
of  the  Gospels.  The  inrirlpnt.il  iiinnner  in  which 
both  \vi-iters  employ  tlie  wnnl  ~ui;lj. -ts  tliat  its  use 
was  not' new.  But  this  iiifiTcmi'  is  precarious, 
and  it  is  possible  that  HippDlytus  was  the  first  to 
employ  it,  and  that  Tertullian  imitated  his  ex- 
ample and  gave  it  a  Latin  form.  The  absence  of 
the  word  from  the  opening  chapters  of  the  third 
Book  of  Irenfeus  will  appear  to  some  to  confirm 
the  opinion  that  the  use  of  the  term  is  later  than 
his  time,  but  the  proper  conclusion  is  that  a 
decisive  verdict  is  impossible.  All  that  can  be 
affirmed  with  confidence  is  that,  as  the  term  '  Gos- 
pels'  was  admittedly  used  in  the  plural  in  the 
time  of  Justin  Martyr  {Ap.  i.  66),  the  employment 
of  the  term  '  evangelist '  to  describe  the  aut^ior  of 
a  Gospel  could  have  liegun  in  Iiis  ago,  but  that  the 
first  occurrence  of  tlie  word  is  half  a  century  later. 

In  dealing  with  the  topic  '  Evangelist,'  it  is  desir- 
able to  add  a  brief  notice  of  the  aniiiiiil  symbols 
by  which  the  Gospels  :ni'  ili'sir^natiil.  This  sym 
holism  makes  no  aiipciil  lo  ii<  ic..i;iy.  lull   ii  .ni'i- 

so  largely  into  early  ('111  i-ii;in  .'n  !  .nhi   | ;i\  tlmi 

some  acquaintance  Willi  ii  i  n. ■'.■,, ;ii\ .  ri,,  ,yiii 
holism  is  foumlpil  un  Ih'  c!r-rn|,i  iun  ,,i  tiic  iuiu 
living  creature-  in  lli-   \  ii'ir:i|\  p-,- ( I'l.     The  first 

creature  is  stMlid   i..   :i,(\.-   I n   lik.'  a  lion,  the 

second  like  a  ealf.  Hie  iliinl  li.el  the  luce  of  a  man, 
the  fourth  was  like  a  llyin;-;  eagle.     It  occurred   to 


Irenaius  to  compare,  if  not  identify,  these  with  the 
four  Gospels,  and  it  was  therefore  necessarj'  for 
him  to  ascribe  a  particular  symbol  to  each  of  the 
Evangelists.  To  him  John  is  the  lion,  Luke  the 
calf,  Matthew  the  man,  and  Mark  the  eagle  (Hmr. 
III.  xi.  11).  The  mode  of  illustration  pursued  by 
Irenfeus  strikes  us  to-day  as  forced  and  profitless, 
but  the  example  he  set  was  followed  by  Hippolytus 
(Himi.  I.  ii.  183,  Berlin  ed. ;  cf.  Bardenhewer,  Alt- 
kirch. Lit.  ii.  532).  In  a  Syriac  fragment  he  repeats 
the  comparison,  but  advances  an  interpretation  of 
his  own.  Now  the  lion  is  Matthew,  the  calf  Luke, 
the  man  Mark,  and  the  eagle  John.  The  symbol- 
ism spread  throughout  the  Church,  but  there  was 
no  agreement  as  to  the  connexion  between  the 
ditt'erent  living  creatures  and  the  separate  Evan- 
gelists. However,  the  authority  of  Jerome  (Pre- 
face to  Mattheib'),  despite  the  divergent  opinion 
of  Augustine  (Cons.  Ev.  i.  6),  prevailed  throughout 
the  West,  and  furnished  the  interpretation  which 
is  best  known,  as  most  largely  represented  in 
Christian  art,  and  as  embodied  in  the  noble  hymn 
of  Adam  of  St.  Victor,  '  Psallat  chorus  corde 
mundo'  (Trench,  Sacred  Latin  Poetry,  67). 
According  to  this  view,  St.  Matthew  is  the  man, 
St.  Mark  the  lion,  St.  Luke  the  calf,  and  St.  John 
the  eagle. 

LiTERATTOE.— Commentaries  on  the  NT  passages ;  art.  '  Evan- 
gelist '  in  Hastings'  DB  ;  works  on  the  organization  and  history 
of  the  Early  Church ;  Suicer,  «.  i). ;  Zahn,  '  Die  Tiersymbole  der 
Evangelisten '  in  Forschungen,  ii. ;  art.  '  Evangelists'  in  Did.  of 
Christian  Antiquities  ;  Farrar,  Messages  of  the  Books^  13. 

\V.  Patrick. 
EVENING  (t)  Syj/ta  [sc.  iipa],  eirHpa).— The  Baby- 
lonians divided  the  day  into  equal  parts  by  sun- 
watches.  The  '  sixty  system '  of  minutes  and 
seconds  was  in  vogue  among  them.  Among  Syrian 
peoples  also,  it  is  likelj;,  the  same  system  pre- 
vailed. No  trace  of  this  is  found  among  the 
Israelites,  however,  in  the  pre-exilic  period.  An- 
other marked  ditt'erence  between  the  Babylonians 
and     the    Israelites    is    noteworthy.      With    the 


lonians  at  sunrise.  It  is  at  least  certain  that  the 
reckoning  from  e\e  to  eve  became  the  exclusive 
method  in  Israel  witli  tlie  triumph  of  the  Law. 
A  kindred  system  j.rexailed  among  Arabs,  Athen- 
ians, and  (;.inls  'I'liny.  UN  ii.  79).  It  was  cus- 
tomary, toil,  in  ,11111.  Ill  Israel  to  distinguish  be- 
tween the  '  lir-t  i'\.iiiiiu  ■  and  the  'second  evening.' 
It  is  not  eeilaiii  jusl  where  they  drew  the  line 
(Edersheim).  The  phrase  '  between  the  two  even- 
ings'  (ben  haarbmjivi),  Ex  16i=  29™,  as  a  designa- 
tion of  the  time  of  the  daily  evening  otlerings, 
clearly  meant  some  period  in  the  late  afternoon. 
The  'first  evening,'  it  is  generally  thought,  began 
about  3  p.m.  and  extended  to  sunset ;  the  second 
began  at  sunset  and  continued  into  the  night. 

In  Mt  14"-  ^  we  have  the  word  '  evening  '  used 
in  both  senses.  'When  it  was  evening'  (v.">) 
clearly  refers  to  the  first  evening  (cf.  Lk  9'-  '  and 
the  day  began  to  decline,'  Bible  Union  Ver.).  For 
when  the  disciples  suggested  that  Jesus  send  the 
multitude  away,  that  they  might  go  into  the 
villages  and  buy  themselves  food,  Jesus  said  they 
need  not  depart ;  and  the  feeding  of  the  live 
thousand  and  the  sending  away  of  the  multitude 
followed  before  '  he  went  up  into  the  mountain 
apart  to  pray.'     Then  a.  second  evening  is  spoken 


.■iH.-r    iiiv     III      •..     .  ■•!'      I  ■'.        .  vi.lently 

-ou;^lit  the  ni..nni,,iM   -.•:,   ,  ,i-   II.    .ii.i  un  other 

Delusions,  lu  s|ien.l  inihli  ul  llie  iu,i;la  lu  prayer 
(v. -5).  Tills  second  evening,  then,  was  evidently 
verging  on  the  night.  Geo.  B.  Eager. 

EVIL.— It    is   customary    to    distinguish    three 


EVIL 

kinds  of  evil:  (1)  wliat  Leibnitz  called  meta- 
physical evil,  i.e.  the  incompleteness  and  imperfec- 
tion which  belong  more  or  less  to  all  created 
things  ;  (2)  phyaical  eril.  i.e.  pain,  sutt'ering,  and 
death  ;  and  (3)  moral  cml,  wliich  is  a  vicious  choice 
of  a  morally  responsible  being. 

1.  Metaphysical  evil.— The  writers  of  the  OT 
were,  for  the  most  part,  deeply  impressed  with  tlie 
doctrine  of  God's  transcendence;  i.e.  His  unique 
and  unapproachable  majesty,  power,  and  holiness. 
Hence  the  nothingness  and  transitoriness  of  all 
earthly  and  visible  tilings  are  a  constant  theme  with 
them  :  'Behold,  heaven  and  the  heaven  of  heavens 
cannot  contain  thee,'  etc.  (1  K  8-') ;  'What  is  man 
that  thou  art  mindful  of  him';'  etc.  (Ps  8<) ;  'AH 
flesh  is  grass,'  etc.  (Is  4(i'')  ;  '  The  inhabitants  of  the 
earth  are  as  grasshopjicrs'  (v.~).  Comj)ared  with 
God's  inefiiible  holiness,  the  holiest  of  created 
beings  are,  as  it  were,  unclean.  In  heaven  the 
holy  angels  veil  their  faces  in  God's  presence  (Is 
6-).  The  holy  sanctuary  of  Israel  required  to  be 
purged  every  year  from  its  pollutions  by  the  blood 
of  sacrifices  (Lv  Ki'").  All  human  righteousnesses 
are  as  a  iiolhited  garment  (Is  04''). 

In  the  NT  tli.Tc  is  iKifurally  less  stress  laid  upon 
the  Divine  tians<rii,l,.|ici..  The  theme  of  the  NT 
writers  is  tlie  love  <il  (iml  sliown  in  the  Incarna- 
tion. The  etiTiial  Si.ii  ,,1  C..,!  li.t.  (iiken  upon  Him 
liuiii.iu  iKituic,  to  nii-.'  i(  iiil..  trll,,wsliii)with  God, 

cdUsiios.  .-111.1  loi:iu>r  il  t.i  |i:iii:i]i.'  of  the  Divine 
imiiKirtulity.  Yet  tlic  awful  ami  unapproachable 
character  of  God,  and  the  infinite  iibyss  which 
separates  the  Creator  from  the  highest  creature, 
are  never  lost  sight  of.  He  alone  is  the  Absolute 
Good  (Mk  10'") ;  He  alone  may  lawfully  be  wor- 
shipped (Mk  12-'- •■'■-,  Kev  1!)'"). 

2.  Phy.sical  evil.— (1)  O/itiitusm  and  pessimism. 
— Christianity  nuiy  Iju  classed  philosophically  as 
a  moderate  optimism.  It  is  not  an  extravagant 
optimism,  like  that  of  Leibnitz,  who  maintained 
that  this  is  the  best  of  all  possible  worlds,  or  of 
Malebranche,  who  regarded  it  as  the  best  conceiv- 
able. Christ  would  certainly  not  have  endorsed 
the  hyperboles  of  Pope,  that  all  discord  is  harmony 
not  understood,  and  all  partial  evil  universal  good; 
yet  He  must  certainly  be  classed  among  the  most 
pronounced  teachers  of  optimism.  As  against  all 
forms  of  Gnosticism  and  Dualism,  He  maintained 
that  the  Universe,  in  all  its  parts,  is  tlie  work  of  a 
perfectly  good  Creator,  and  tliat,  in  spite  of  all 
appearances  to  the  contrary,  it  is  under  the  guid- 
ance of  His  fatherly  Providence  :  '  Behold  the  fowls 
of  the  air,'  etc.  (Mt  6-'^);  'Are  not  two  sparrows 
sold  for  a  farthing?'  etc.  (Mt  10"'-');  'He  maketh 
his  sun  to  rise  on  the  evil  uid  on  the  good,'  etc. 
(Mt  5*^).  The  optimism  of  Jesus  is  particularly 
evident  in  His  cscliatology.  He  taught  that  in 
the  end  good  will  triumph  over  evil,  and  evil  be 
absolutely  excluded  from  the  Universe :  '  In  the 
end  of  the  world  the  Son  of  man  shall  send  forth 
his  angels,'  etc.  (Mt  13-",  cf.  24^1  25™-'").  He  be- 
lieved that  there  is  a  glorious  goal  to  which  the 
whole  creation  is  moving.  In  one  passage  He  calls 
it  Creation's  new  birth  (waK^vyevtala,  Mt  19'-*) ;  but 
His  usual  term  for  it  is  the  '  Kingdom  of  God '  (or 
of  Heaven)  :  '  Then  shall  the  righteous  shine  forth 
as  the  sun  in  the  kingdom  of  their  Father'  (Mt 
IS'").  For  the  coming  of  this  Kingdom  every 
Christian  is  directed  to  pray  (Mt  6")  and  to  watch 
(24«  251").  -ri^^f  t|„.  i,,,,,;,,.;^,  Tinivcrse  will  be 
glorified  alon^;  with  tlir  w],i,i(„,il  j^  ,,nl  distinctly 
stated  by.Icsiis.  Iml  is  a  n.-.-rssarN  inliTnicc  from 
the  doctrine  (il  lln-  rcsurn-ii  i.m  ul'  Uir  /„„/,/,  which 
was  undoubteiUy  held  by  Him  (Mt  5-^  10-"  etc.), 
though  in  a  more  spiritual  form  than  was  generally 
current  ('22™). 

(2)    Pain,    sorroiv,    disease,    and    death.  —  The 


EVIL 


551 


Gospels  lend  no  countenance  to  the  view  that 
moral  evil  is  the  only  genuine  evil,  and  that  physi- 
cal evil  is  not  evil  in  the  strict  and  projier  sense. 
Pain,  sorrow,  disease,  and  death  were  regarded  by 
.lesus  as  things  which  ought  not  to  be,  and  He 
.spent  much  of  the  time  of  His  public  ministry  in 
combating  them  :  '  He  went  about  doing  giicid,  and 
healing  all  that  were  oppressed  with  the  tlevil  :  for 
God  was  with  him '  (Ac  lO^").  He  committed  the 
ministry  of  healing  to  the  Apostles  and  other  be- 
lievers :  '  Preach,  saying.  The  kingdom  of  heaven 
is  at  hand.  Heal  the  sick,  raise  the  dead,  cleanse 
the  lepers,  cast  out  devils  ;  freely  ye  have  received, 
freely  give'  (Mt  10').  Death  was  regarded  by 
Jesus  as  in  an  especial  sense  '  the  enemy.'  Its 
ravages  allected  Him  with  acute  distress  (eVe^pi- 
/XTjtraro  -ry  nfevf/.a.Ti  Kal  irapa^iv  eai'roc  .  .  .  edaKpucrev, 
Jn  Iissn-,  where  consult  the  commentators).  Three 
of  His  most  striking  recorded  miracles  were  vic- 
tories over  death  (Mk  5^',  Lk  7",  Jn  11''');  and 
His  own  resurrection,  according  to  the  energetic 
expression  of  the  Apostle,  '  abolished  death,  and 
brought  life  and  incorruption  to  li"ht '  (2  Ti  l'"). 

As  to  the  causation  of  physical  evil,  there  is  a 
great  diHerence  of  point  of  view  between  the  OT 
and  the  NT.  The  OT  ujion  the  whole  (Job  1.  2.  is  an 
exception)  regards  physical  evil  as  inflicted  directly 
by  God.  According  to  the  NT,  however,  physical 
evil  is  mainly  the  work  of  the  devil.  God  tolerates, 
permits,  and  overrules,  rather  than  directly  in- 
flicts it.  Pain  and  disease  and  death  belong  to  the 
devil's  kingdom,  not  to  God's  ;  and  their  universal 
prevalence  is  a  sign  of  the  usurped  authority  over 
the  human  race  of  '  tin'  jiriiiii'  of  this  world.'  The 
preaching  of  the  Kingclom  of  (Jod  and  the  emanci- 
pation of  mankind  from  the  devil's  thraldom  were 
consequently  accompanied  by  an  extensive  minis- 
try of  healing,  and  Christ  appealed  to  His  miracles 
as  evidence  that  '  the  kingdom  of  God  is  come 
upon  you'  (Lk  ll^").  The  NT  does  not,  however, 
deny  that  physical  evil  is  often  inflicted  by  God 
for  disciplinary  or  retributive  purposes.  He  12' 
lays  especial  stress  upon  the  wholesome  chastening 
of  affliction  ■which  all  the  sons  of  God  receive. 
Examples  of  penal  or  retributive  affliction  are  Mt 
9-  (palsy),  Mt  '23*'  (war  and  massacre),  Jn  5"  (con- 
stitutional infirmity),  Ac  5''  (death),  Ac  13"  (blind- 
ness). Jesus,  however,  strongly  protested  against 
the  idea  that  e\'ery  calamity  is  to  he  regarded  as 
a  punishment  for  "individual  sin.  This  specially 
Jewish  idea,  which  Eliphaz,  Bildad,  and  Zophar 
develop  at  length  in  the  Book  of  Job,  is  definitely 
condemned  (Lk  13^  Jn  9"). 

3.  MoKAL  EVIL.— (1)  Its  nature  and  origin.— The 
only  possible  way  of  accounting  for  moral  evil 
witliout  making  God  the  author  of  it,  is  to  attri- 
bute it  to  the  abuse  of  free  will  on  the  part  of 
created  beings,  angelic,  or  human,  or  both.  The 
doctrine  of  free  will  has  been  severely  criticised  in 
all  ages  by  the  advocates  of  philosophical  and 
theological  necessity  ;  but  it  has,  notwitlistanding, 
held  its  ground,  and  is  at  the  present  time  the 
faith  of  all  the  most  progressive  races  of  mankind. 
That  it  was  held  by  Jesus  does  not  admit  of  reason- 
able doubt.  Thus  He  habitually  spoke  of  the 
power  which  men  possess  to  resist  God  and  to  frus- 
trate His  benevolent  intentions  :  '  O  Jerusalem, 
Jerusalem,  .  .  .  how  often  would  I  (ijfl^XTjtra)  .  .  . 
and  ye  would  not'  (Kal  ouk  rtdeXriffaTe,  Lk  13'*;  cf. 
Jn  5^",  Mt  IP"''').  His  general  invitations  to  all 
men  to  be  saved  imply  the  same  doctrine  :  '  Come 
unto  me,  all  ye  that  labour  and  are  heavy  laden, 
and  I  will  give  you  rest'  (Mt  11=8)  .  .And  I,  if  I 
be  lifted  up  from"  the  earth,  will  draw  all  men  unto 
myself '  (Jn  12''-). 


speak  the  latij^uage  of  Predestination, 


lot  disproverl  by 
at  first  siglit  to 
1  of  UeterminiBui 


EVIL  ONE 


EVOLUTION  (CHRIST  AND) 


X".)-  Predestination  wus  not  so  lield  in 
xclude  free  will.  Josephus  says  of  the 
'V  say  tliat  all  things  happen  by  fate,  they 
i  men  the  freedom  of  acting  as  they  think 
is  that  it  hath  pleased  God  to  mix  up  the 
lan's  will,  so  that  man  can  act  virtuously 


(Jn  ea'-  39,  Mt  2IS^  • 
Christ's  time  as  to 
Pharisees  ;  '  When  tl 
do  not  take  awa\-  fro 
fit ;  since  their  notio 
decrees  of  fate  and 
and  viciously '  (^ n(.  x\iii.  i.  3). 

Jesus  accordingly  attributed  the  origin  of  evil 
not  to  the  will  of  God,  but  to  the  perversity  of 
God's  creatures.  Mankind,  according  to  Hira,  is 
in  rebellion  against  God ;  but  the  whole  guilt  of 
rebellion  is  not  his.  Before  man  existed,  there 
were  myriads  of  finite  spirits,  higher  in  the  order 
of  creation  than  he,  and  of  these  some  fell  from 
their  original  innocence  and  became  devils.  The 
chief  of  tliese,  Satan,  is  ever  seeking  to  seduce  tlie 
human  race  from  its  allegiance  to  its  Creator, 
and  is  therefore  emphatically  called  '  the  tempter ' 
(6  Treipdfuv,  Mt  4',  1  Th  3^),  and  the  slayer  of  men 
{avepuwoKTdi'o!,  Jn  8").  This  last  is  the  one  certain 
allusion  to  the  fall  of  Satan  to  be  found  in  the 
Gospels  (Lk  10'*  is  doubtful).  From  it  we  learn 
that  he  once  existed  in  a  state  of  innocence  (if  rfi 
aXrideiif),  but  did  not  persi-st  in  it  (reading  oOk  laT-qKev 
with  WH). 

The  position  of  Satan  in  the  Universe  is  so  exalted,  and  the 
power  ascrihed  to  him  in  the  NT  so  great  (cf.  esp.  Mt  4^,  :in 
1430),  that  some  have  regarded  Jesus  as  a  Dualist.  But  the 
authority  attributed  to  Satan  in  the  NT,  though  great,  is  sub- 
ordinate. The  devils  recognize  the  power  of  Jesus,  and  come 
out  at  His  word  (Mk  l«-34  311  etc.).  If  SaUn  is  'the  strong 
man,'  there  is  a  Stronger,  who  can  bind  him  and  spoil  his  goods 
(Mt  1229).  At  the  Temptation  the  devil  acknowledged  that  his 
power  is  a  delegated  one  (e/*ei  ^ec/i«iihoT»t,  Lk  4<»).  His  kingdom 
will  surely  come  to  an  end ;  in  fact  its  fall  has  already  been 
virtually  secured  by  the  Passion  and  Resurrection  of  Jesus 
(Jn  1'231).  His  final  punishment  has  been  determined,  and  it 
will  be  fully  adequate  to  his  delinquency  (Mt  '25'*1). 

(2)  Original  sin. — There  is  no  recorded  teaching 
of  Jesus  about  original  sin.  He  recognized  the  fall 
of  man  (Jn  8"),  and  the  general  sinfulness  of  the 
human  race  (Mt  7") ;  but  how  He  connected  these 
two  facts  does  not  appear.  It  may,  perhaps,  be 
argued  from  Jn  9'"3,  that  He  would  not  have  ap- 
proved of  any  theory  of  original  sin  which  regarded 
men  as  obnoxious  to  punishment  from  God  merely 
because  of  an  ancestral  taint  that  they  could  not 
help  inheriting.  See,  further,  artt.  SiN  and  ETER- 
NAL Punishment. 


C.   llAKlilS. 

EVIL  ONE. — See  pieced,  art.  and  Lord's 
I'KAVEit  and  Satan. 

EYIL  SPIRIT.    See  Demon. 

EVOLUTION  (CHRIST  AND).-The  widespread 
acceptance  nf  the  Evolutionary  philosophy,  and  the 
endeavours  of  its  leading  exponents  to  include  the 
phenomena  of  religion  within  the  sweep  of  its  cate- 
gories, have  greatly  accentuated  the  problem  of  the 
place  of  the  Inc.ani.atinn  in  the  cosmic  order,  and 
of  Jcsu,  Cliii.l,  His  l',i.,,n.  His  work,  and  His 
redciiii'l  i\  ■•  liiiici  ioii.  in  liuiii;ui  history. 

1.     'Jll,'     h.ls'l-:     nf    ,lisr,l  iSlnit.^Xt     the    OUtsCt    Wd 

must  di.-.Liiiy  uisli  .sliarjilj  betxveen  the  Materialistic 
type  of  the  Evolutionary  philosophy  on  the  one 
hand,  and  the  Theistie  type  on  the  other.  The 
former  may  be  described  as  including  all  efforts  to 
explain  the  highest  phenomena  of  the 


eluding  tliose  of  life,  consciousness,  and  all  forms 
of  spiritual  activity — in  terms  of  mechanical  motion 
and  force.  Such  a  philosophy  rules  out  all  recog- 
nition of  the  Divine  Personality,  of  the  possible 
iiulei)endence  of  mind  over  matter,  of  the  ethical 
responsibility  and  free  spiritual  activity  of  man, 
and  of  his  capacity  for  immortal  life.  This  disposes 
of  tlie  problem  of  the  Incarnation  as  irrelevant, 
and  throws  us  back  on  a  purely  '  naturalistic '  ex- 
planation of  the  Person  and  life  of  Jesus  Christ. 
The  Theistic  type  of  the  Evolutionary  philosophy, 
however— -tlie  central  idea  of  which  is  that  the 
goal  (if  Evolution  and  not  its  beginnings  provides 
us  with  the  principle  of  cosmic  interpretation,  and 
tliat  spirit  and  not  matter  furnishes  the  key  to  the 
riddle  of  tlie  Universe— leaves  us  free  to  deal  with 
the  Supreme  Person  and  Fact  of  history  with  open 
minds.  Theism  presents  us  with  a  conception  of 
God  as  immanent  in  the  Universe,  but  not  as  im- 
prisoned within  its  material  or  psychical  manifes- 
tations ;  as  transcendent,  living  a  free,  self-deter- 
mined life  in  virtue  of  His  own  eternal  Being,  yet 
not  separated  from  the  forces  and  phenomena  of 
the  cosmos,  which  are  manifestations  of  His  creative 
activity  and  expanding  purpose.  It  also  presents 
us  with  a  conception  of  man  as  a  created  but  free 
spiritual  person,  physically  a  part  of  nature,  but 
ethically  above  it,  and  ca]>alile  of  coming  into 
conscious  personal  rcl:ili(iiis  with  liis  Creator. 

2.  Theistic  thcur;/  >;/  Krul iilimi  compatible  ivith 
a  process  of  Incarn<itiiiii.^]{  is  manifest  that  the 
idea  of  Incarnation  is  not  <t  priori  incompatible 
with  such  a  philosophy  of  God  and  man.  It  repre- 
sents the  Universe  as  God  realizing  His  creative 
purpose ;  impersonally  in  Nature,  personally  in 
Man.  Creation  awakes  in  man  to  the  sense  of  its 
own  origin  and  the  possibility  of  its  own  consum- 
mation in  a  life  of  free  spiritual  communion  with 
God.  Incarnation  means  that  this  fellowship  is 
actually  sought  after  and  objectively  consummated 
by  an  act  of  self-realization  on  the  part  of  God.  It 
implies  the  special  compatibility  of  the  Divine 
nature  and  the  human  personality.  '  God  |is,  as 
it  were,  the  eternal  possibility  of  being  incar- 
nated, man  the  permanent  capability  of  incarna- 
tion.' 'The  nature  that  is  in  all  men  akin  to 
Deity  becomes  in  Christ  a  nature  in  personal  union 
with  the  Deity,  and  the  unio  personalis,  which  is 
peculiar  to  Him,  is  the  basis  of  the  unio  mystica, 
wl.ich  is  ])ossible  to  all '  (Fairbairn,  Christ  in 
Mudi-rn  Thrnlorj)/,  pp.  473,  475;  see  also  Clarke's 
(hillnir  nfC/irlxfiroi  Theology,  p.  275). 

3.  Tin-  l'n:^n„  and  work  of  Christ  in  stick  a 
lli'iinj.  The  liistorical  realization  of  this  possi- 
liility  of  Incarnation  in  Jesus  of  Nazareth  raises 
the  further  question  of  His  place  in  a  philosophy 
of  history,  and  in  Christian  theology.  The  Chris- 
tian contention  is  that  in  Him  the  Evolutionary 
process  finds  its  consummation  on  the  one  .side — 
He  was  the  Ideal  Man  made  actual ;  and  that  a 
fresh  Evolutionary  start  was  made  by  the  fusion 
of  the  Divine  and  human  natures  in  Him  on  the 
otiier— lie  was  the  Son  of  God  Incarnate,  'niani- 
festcMl  tn  Like  away  sin'  (1  Jn  3'),  and  to  project 
tlic  laee  (.11  the  lines  of  its  true  development  and 
life,  whieli  had  been  interrupted  and  swerved  aside 
by  tlio  intrusion  of  .sin  into  the  world.  Tliis  con- 
cejition  of  the  Person  and  work  of  Christ,  while  it 
falls  into  line  %\ith  the  Evolutionary  idea  in  one 
direction,  appears  to  fall  foul  of  it  in  another, 
because  of  the  claim  it  iiKikes  that  there  was  in 
the  nature  of  Christ  .in  incoinni.-iisurable  factor, 
incapable  of  being  cxplamr.!  Ii\  1  he  laws  of  organic 
life,  or  by  human  p.sychulugy,  manifesting  itself 
in  a  life  of  unique  goodness  and  power,  begun  by  a 
free  special  act  of  God  in  the  Virgin-birth,  and 
consummated  by  the  objective  Resurrection  of  our 
Lord  from  the  clead. 


EVOLUTION  (CHRIST  AND) 


EVOLUTION  (CHRIST  AND)     553 


This  difficulty,  Iiowever,  on  deeper  considera- 
tion is  not  incompatible  with  a  wider  view  of  the 
Evolutionary  process.  There  were  several  stages 
in  the  known  pathway  of  the  upward  movement 
from  the  star  mist,  in  which  thfi  prncess  lieoan,  to 
man,  in  whom  terrestrial  i-v(.lulioii  liiids  its  c<iii 
summation,  when  frosli  pliciioiiinwi  :!|i|ii>an^l  w  hirh 
cannot  be  explained  in  Imns  of  tho.^c  Ihal  |iir 
ceded;  6.17.  at  the  eiiier-i-iRo  ot  organic  litu,  of 
sentiency',  and  of  ethit'al  self-consciousness.  So  far, 
no  rational  bridge  of  theory  has  been  found  to 
span  the  gap  between  these  diverse  facts.  It  is, 
therefore,  not  unthinkable  that  there  was  in  the 
Person  of  our  Lord  a  superhuman  element,  which 
in  Him  mingled  with  the  stream  of  human  life, 
and  started  a  fresh  and  higher  line  of  evolution  for 
the  race.  The  question  whether  this  was  so  in 
point  of  actual  fact  is  thus  purely  one  of  evidence, 
and,  if  historically  substantiated,  must  be  accepted, 
whether  we  are  able  ultimately  to  '  account '  for  it 
theoretically  or  not.  Our  canons  of  Evolution 
must  make  room  for  all  the  facts  of  life  and 
history,  or  be  finally  discredited  as  inadequate  and 
obscurantist. 

i.  Jesus  Christ  not  ex/ilicaUe  on  natiiralistk 
grounds. — It  is  certain  also  that,  so  far,  the  innum- 
erable efforts  which  have  been  put  forth  during 
the  past  century,  from  almost  every  concei\-able 
point  of  view,  to  give  a  naturalistic  i'.\|ilanati(in  of 
the  life  and  Person  of  .b^sus  Clnist,  l]a\(j  not,  in 
whole  or  in  part,  dispose.!  of  this  prolilrDi.  Tlioie 
is  no  single  theory  or  combinatiuu  of  theories  which 
meets  with  general  acceptance,  even  among  those 
who  take  up  a  purely  critical  attitude  ;  and  when 
we  confront  them  with  the  Christian  consciousness 
which  is  the  historical  outcome  of  faith  in  the 
Divine  nature  and  mission  and  work  of  Christ, 
they  fail  utterly  to  carry  conviction.  (This  last 
fact  has  so  far  not  had  its  true  place  in  the  settle- 
ment of  the  problem).  The  Personality  of  Jesus 
Christ  is  thus  still  the  unsolved  problem  of  history, 
and  it  is  more  than  doubtful  if  any  fresh  treat- 
ment of  the  question  will  succeed  in  Ijringing  Him 
Avithin  the  categories  of  an  Agnostic  Evolutionary 
Philosophy. 

5.  Curbeus  Homo  ?— The  Tlieistic  Evolutionist 
has  next  to  face  the  old  question  of  the  purpose 
and  aim  of  the  Incarnation  in  the  cosmic  order. 
'Cur  Deus  Homo?'  becomes  a  more  burning  ques- 
tion than  ever  in  a  scheme  of  Evolutionary  thought. 
Two  hypotheses  present  themselves,  according  as 
we  take  an  a  priori  or  n posteriori  standpoint,  which 
may  be  called  the  Evolutionriri/  and  the  Redrmpflvi:. 
The  first  makes  the  Christ  the  consummation  and 
crown  of  the  process  of  cosmic  Evolution,  .and 
postulates  the  Tiuaniation  as  its  ii.T,-x>ai  y  'liitiax  ; 
the  second  occM|ar>  1  hr  oh  I  x(aii.l|i(.iiii  of  ( 'lirislian 
theology  from  tlio  ll^^illllilll:,  lliai,  \\lirtlii'i-  the  In- 
carnation lay  iiuijlicit  or  not  in  the  [irocess,  it  was 
historically  conditioned  by  the  fact  of  the  sinful 
and  '  fallen '  state  of  humanity.  The  two  views 
are  not  incompatible  with  one  another,  and  both  in 
combination  are  quite  consistent  with  the  teaching 
of  Scripture.  The  upw.anl  stiiiiim  of  linni.uiity 
for  union  with  its  Creator  .as  p.isonal  lin.N  ils  his- 
torical witness  in  (I)  th,'  iini\ei  al  funrtion  of 
worship,  pr.-iyer,  ami  san  ili,,-.  .ami  iJl  the  Helu'ew 
prophetic  visi,, 11  ,>f  the  Ideal  Sonani  of  Jehovah, 
and  the  M..ssianie  hop,-  ;  an.l  il  Mijjests,  as  God  is 
personal,  a  c-orrespoii,liii- a.  I  ,,f  ^  II  vovelation  in  a 
historical  Person  who  would  unilo  in  liimself  Ihi' 
human  aspiration  .and  Ihe  lii\iiii'  manifo-ial  jmi  : 
while  the  gradual  ie\-c|ali aai-ni alod  in  lie- 
coming  of  Christ,  and  ree(.rdi'd  in  I  lie  (  )M  and  New 
Testaments,  is  in  line  wiih  .all  (lie  kn<i\\n  laws  of 
God's  evolutionary  niel  hods.  On  Hie  oIImt  li.and, 
it  is  unquestioii:i'lile  Ih.al  |||,.  Sniplure  dorhineof 
the  Incarnation  is  indissolublv  assoeiate.l  w  ith  the 


redemptive  purjiose  of  God.  This  is  its  historical 
aim  and  character :  '  He  was  manifested  to  take 
away  sin'  (1  Jn  3^  of.  1  Co  5i8-i»  etc.).  While, 
therefore,  we  are  justified  on  a  priori  grounds  in 
l)elieving  that  '  the  Incarnation  was  no  after- 
thoiiylit'  (Dale,  Fr//„irs-/,i/,  with  Christ,  and  Other 
S,  raiijiis.  jip.  10,  -.'."i-jf. ),  but  that  it  would  have 
lakeii  pl.iee  e\-eii  if  sin  li.'id  not  entered  the  world, 
the/o/wi  which  it  took  was  historically  conditioned 
by  the  actual  condition  of  humanity ;  i.e.  it  was 
soteriological  in  its  manifestation. 

6.  Three  pregnant  aspects  of  the  historical  In- 
carnation.— More  particularly,  the  significance  of 
the  historical  Incarnation  as  a  redemptive  and 
perfective  process  may  be  described  under  three 
pregnant  headings.  It  was  (1)  the  realization  of 
the  perfect  type  of  humanity — Christ  as  the  Ideal 
Man ;  (2)  the  achievement  of  a  great  restorative 
or  saving  work — Christ  as  the  sufficient  Saviour  ; 
(3)  the  beginning  of  a  fresh  departure  in  the  up- 
ward Life  of  the  Race— Christ  as  the  Founder  and 
Head  of  His  Church,  and  the  source  of  the  higher 
spiritual  movements  of  history.  These  three 
aspects  of  His  work  are  specially  related  to  His 
human  life  as  our  great  Exemplar  ;  to  His  Cross 
and  Passion  as  our  Sacrifice  and  Reconciler ;  to 
His  Resurrection  and  Ascension  into  the  unseen 
world,  and  His  influence  through  His  Spirit  on  the 
individual  and  wider  life  of  mankind. 

(1)  As  the  Ideal  Man,  Je-sus  revealed  the  possi- 
bilities and  determined  the  type  of  perfect  man- 
hood for  the  race.  This  was  done  under  special 
conditions,  and  at  a  given  moment  of  time  and 
place,  race  and  environment.  He  was  born  in 
Palestine,  during  the  reign  of  Herod,  '  of  the  seed 
of  David'  (Ro  l-*)  ;  i.e.  He  was  a  Jew,  conforming 
to  the  special  conditions  and  demands  of  His  own 
times,  and  limited  by  the  intellectual  and  social 
horizon  of  His  day.  There  was  much,  therefore, 
in  the  outward  life  of  Jesus  which  was  temporary 
and  local  in  its  manifestations.  Yet  beneath  all 
this  we  see  a  true  revelation  of  the  Perfect  Man, 
universal  in  its  scope,  yet  appealing  to  each  indi- 
vidual man  as  his  exemplar  ;  Ideal  in  its  purity 
and  holiness,  yet  throbbing  with  contagious  life  ; 
beyond  the  reach  of  literal  imitation,  yet  quicken- 
ing each  of  His  followers  to  the  realization  of  his 
own  individual  life  and  personality.  Looked  at 
from  within,  His  life  is  depicted  in  the  NT  as  one 
of  perfect  and  joyous  obedience  to  the  Father's 
revealed  will  (Jn  6''),  unbroken  communion  with 
Him  (10™),  and  supreme  self-forgetfulness  in  the 
service  of  His  brethren  (2  Co  8").  Whatever 
transcendent  elements  may  have  been  hidden  (and 
sometimes  patent)  in  the'  s]>iritual  consciousness 
of  Jesus,  He  is  !e|iiesi  nted  as  truly  temptable 
(Mt  4'  etc.),  as  dependini;  entirely  on  Divine  help 
and  grace  for  eonipie-i  omi  temptation  (Jn  5'"  etc.), 
and  as  haviiiL;  tiiuniplied  absolutely  over  evil,  so 
that  He  was  ■  wifle.nt  sin  '  (He  i'%  The  impres- 
sion left  on  tliosi-  who  knew  Him  best  by  this  life 
of  filial  obedience  a]id  service  was  that  it  was  of 
unique  beauty  and  attractiveness  (Jn  I"),  and  yet 
capable  of  emulation  by  all,  under  their  own  in- 
dividual conditions  of  life  and  service  (1  P  2-'). 
And  this  NT  picture  of  Jesus  as  the  Ideal  Man 
is  one  that  the  noblest  minds  of  Christendom 
throughout  the  centuries  have  accepted.  There 
is  no  historical  character  that  has  ever  threatened 
to  divide  the  sovereignty  oi  Jesus  in  the  sjiiritual 


;iehter 
my  to 
of'  the 


I  moral  ideal  incarnated  in  Him. 

'  In  the  fulness  of  the  time.'  —From  the  Evolutionary  stand- 
point the  question  is  often  asked,  whether  such  an  ideal  life 
Ijnust  not  necessaril,v  have  appeared  as  the  < 


554     EVOLUTION  (CHEIST  AiS^D) 


EXALTATiOl^ 


■  fulii 


ice,— as  the  last  link  in  the 
doubtful  application,  how- 
r-canic  life  ;  and  as  regards 
1,  it  is  demonstrably  lacking 
Scripture,  appeared  in  the 
trecise  moment  in  the  order 


i(Ga 


He  V->).  The  best  minds  of  pre\ioiis  ages  had  been  eagerly 
looking  forward  to  a  manifestation  of  the  saving  power  of  God 
(Mt  13",  Lk  ■24-»,  Ac  3'8,  1  P  110  etc.),  and,  if  the  actual 
historical  manifestation  of  the  Messiah  for  whom  they  waited 
was  not  in  accordance  with  their  literal  expectations,  it  was  the 
true  fulfilment  of  the  spiritual  movement  of  which  their  ideals 
and  prophecies  were  a  part.  In  Evolutionary  language,  the 
'  embryonic '  Christ  of  prophecy  became  in  due  course  the 
actual  Christ  of  history,  or,  less  figurati\ely,  the  dimly  outlined 
Ideal  Life  of  aspiration  took  objective  form  in  the  manifested 
life  of  the  Son  of  God.  <Jr,  we  may  say  that  the  right  time  for 
an  ideal  to  be  actualized  in  the  life  of  humanity  would  be,  at 
that  precise  moment  when  the  capacity  for  conceiving  and 
recognizing  an  ideal  had  been  sufficiently  developed  to  appre- 
ciate it.  Before  this,  it  would  be  wasted';  later,  it  would  have 
been  belated  ;  and  Jesus  came  and  embodied  the  Ideal  Life  just 
when  humanity  was  capable  of  profiting  by  it,  and  of  being 
stirred  by  it  into  higher  aspiration  and  endeavour. 

(2)  The  Redemptive  work  of  Christ  finds  its 
place  in  an  Evolutionary  scheme  of  thought  on 
cognate  lines.  It  presupposes  that  a  lapse,  or  at 
least  a  fatal  halt,  had  occurred  in  the  upward 
spiritual  development  of  the  race,  and  that  all 
further  progress  was  barred  by  the  poisoning  of 
the  wells  of  progress  by  sin  (see  Fall).  Before 
humanity  could  be  released  from  this  disability, 
which  had  interfered  with  the  free  interflow  of  the 
Divine  and  human  fellowship,  in  the  unrestricted 
action  of  which  alone  the  spiritual  life  of  man  can 
develop,  a  process  of  reconciliation  and  at-one- 
ment  with  the  source  of  the  .spiritual  Life  must  be 
initiated.  Apart  from  this,  the  presentation  of 
an  Ideal  Life  would  be  a  mockery,  for  its  realiza- 
tion would  be  impossible.  Thus,  as  already  stated, 
the  historical  Incarnation  took  a  redemptive  form, 
and  it  was  consummated  by  an  act  of  supreme 
sacrifice. 


Order^  ch, 

world.  The  so-called  cruel  Law  of  Xatural  Selection  is"  but 
another  name  for  a  rudimentary  fact  which  finds  its  finest  and 
most  perfect  realization  in  Ihe  Cross  of  Christ.  In  nature  we 
*ind  three  grades  or  stages  of  this  process.  (1)  The  sacrifice  of 
the  weak  for  the  strong,  as  when  those  creatures  in  everv 
species  which  are  ill-adapted  for  the  propagation  of  their  kind  are 
elbowed  out  of  existence  by  the  vitally  strong  and  efficient,  and 
made  '  subservient  to  another's  good  '  in  the  wav  of  food.  (•!) 
The  sacrifice  of  the  strong  for  the  weak,  exemplified  in  the 
action  of  the  imperious  jiarental  instinct  which  is  manifested  bv 
every  living  species  above  the  very  lowest,  and  which  graduall" 


audi 


delii 


till  i 


higher  nmmnials  at  man.  Here  there  is  inori; 
selfdenial  on  the  part  of  the  vigorous  and  rn\>. 
behalf  of  the  helpless  and  the  weak.  (:S)  Tli^ 
good  for  till-  bad,  a  fart  manifested  (in  the  n. 
onl.v  among  ethical  persons,  and  exemplili'.ii  i  i 
as  one  of  the  most  potent  forces  for  11m  i  i  |  - 1  i  t  i 
of  humanity.    These  various  sta^'es  -  i     ■ 


world-process,  and  to  make  it  more  or  less  r\  olutinnallv  intel- 
ligible. (See  further  on  this  subject  Grittith-Jones,  The' Ascent 
through  Christ,  bk.  ii.  ch.  iii.  pp.  283-306). 

(3)  The  Risen  Life  of  our  Lord  initiates  the  final 
stage  in  the  spiritual  evolution  of  the  race,  and 
completes  the  range  of  forces  that  work  for  the 
perfecting  of  the  human  soul  in  its  upward  march. 
The  Resurrection  and  the  Ascension  indicate  a 
fresh  epoch  in  the  history  of  mankind,  both  in 
the  development  of  the  individual  soul  and  in  the 
progress  of  society.  A  new  type  of  character 
emerges,  and  a  new  community  is  born ;  each 
marking  a  higher  achievement  and  indicating  a 
further  advance  in  spiritual  life.  Historical  Christi- 
anity rests  on  the  faith  that  Jesus  rose  again  and 
passed  into  the  unseen  world,  whence  He  eonti'pues 
to  send  forth  His  personal  influence  and  sa\^ng 
grace  by  His  Spirit  among  believers,  and  throuch 
them  into  the  world  at  large.  This  He  does  tinvt 
by  quickening  individual  men  in  the  New  Life^ 


enabling  them  to  conquer  sin,  and  to  put  forth  the 
distinctive  Christian  virtues  ;  and,  secondly,  by  tlie 
perpetual  renewal  and  invigoration  of  the  Christian 
society  or  Church,  which  is  composed  of  those 
believers  who  join  in  brotherly  love  in  the  active 
service  of  mankind  in  the  name  of  their  spiritual 
Head.  This  new  force  has  leavened  and  in  a 
measure  created  modern  Western  civilization,  and 
though  it  has  so  far  not  succeeded  in  permeating 
it  through  and  through  with  the  Christian  spirit, 
it  is  demonstrable  that  its  finest  and  most  potent 
elements  are  those  derived  from  the  Christian  Ideal 
and  ennobled  by  the  Christian  graces.  The  slow- 
ness of  the  world's  spiritual  development  along 
Christian  lines  is  undeniable,  it  is  marked  by- 
ages  of  stagnation  and  by  periods  of  unmistakabfe 
reaction  ;  this,  however,  is  entirely  consistent  with 
the  laws  of  evolution  tlirough  all  its  upward  stages, 
and  is  inevitable  when  we  remember  the  potent 
forces  of  spiritual  degeneracy  and  inertia  which 
oppose  its  march.  It  is  clear  that  there  is  no  rival 
directive  or  inspiring  ideal  among  mankind  that 
could  take  the  place  of  Christianity  without  crying 
halt  to  all  that  is  noblest  in  the  life  of  the  race. 
The  future  of  the  world  lies  with  Christ,  unless  it 
is  to  fall  back  on  a  lower  stage  of  ethical  and 
spiritual  development  on  its  way  to  utter  disinte- 
gration and  decadence.  Since  the  lines  of  cosmic 
development  have  so  far  been  on  the  whole  in  an 
upward  direction,  and  since  there  is  no  indication 
that  the  Christian  ideal  has  lost  its  hold  on  the 
best  minds  of  the  race,  or  is  less  potent  than 
formerly  in  regenerating  individual  souls  and  in 
inspiring  the  Church  to  ever  fresh  activity  and  in- 
fluence, there  is  reason  for  confident  belief  that 
at  last  the  race  as  a  whole  will  be  raised  to  the 
Christian  level,  and  that  the  future  is  with  Him 
of  whom  it  is  prophesied  that  He  shall  reign  in 
undisputed  sway  over  the  affections  and  command 
the  obedience  of  all  mankind  (Ph  S'"",  Rev  ll''  etc. ). 
See,  further,  art.  INCARNATION. 

Literature.— Griffith-Jones,  Ascent  through  Christ ;  Gore, 
Bampton  Lectures  on  The  Incarnation ;  H.  Drummond,  Ascent 
of  Man.  E.  GEIFFITH-JoNES. 

EXALTATION.— 1.  Tlie  general  sentiment  that 
the  lowly  in  heart  alone  receive  the  true  exaltation, 
is  exceedingly  prominent  in  both  the  Old  and  New 
Testaments.  The  life  of  Christ  was  throun;liout 
one  of  self-humbling,  but  He  knew  prophetically 
tliat  it  would  end  in  the  highest  exaltation.  In 
t  he  Song  of  Mary  at  the  Annunciation  this  jjrin- 
(•ijile  of  Divine  procedure  is  stated  :  '  He  hath  put 
down  the  mighty  from  their  seats,  and  exalted 
them  of  low  degree'  (Lk  P-).  In  Christ's  parable 
of  the  Wedding  Feast  He  insists  on  this  principle, 
as  against  the  self-seeking  and  pride  of  the  scribes 
and  Pharisees,  who  love  the  chief  seats  in  the 
synagogue,  and  the  foremost  places  at  feasts.  It 
is  better  to  take  the  lowest  room,  and  wait  till 
the  host  shall  give  their  proper  place  to  one's 
virtue  and  dignity,  by  saying,  '  Friend,  come  up 
higher '  (Lk  14'»).  The  behaviour  of  a  Christian 
among  his  fellows  should  have  regard  to  this  prin- 
ciple. He  is  not  to  be  forward  to  lay  claim  to 
that  which  may  even  be  his  right  (cf.  Mt  23'- 1| 
Lk  14"  18"). 

2.  One  of  the  clearest  words  of  Jesus  in  regard 
to  His  own  exaltation  is  Jn  12'-.  Some  Greeks 
came  desiring  to  see  Him.  Our  Lord  seeing  in 
this  desire  of  theirs  something  proplietic  of  the 
future  ingathering  of  the  Gentiles  into  His  king- 
dom, opened  up  His  heart  to  His  disciples  as  to 
the  way  in  which  He  hoped  to  conquer  the  hearts 
of  men.  He  made  somewhat  enigmatic  reference 
to  His  death.  He  knew  that  the  hour  had  almost 
come  for  the  suftering  of  the  lowly  Son  of  Man. 
But  it  is  necessary  that  the  seed  which  is  to  pro- 


EXAMPLE 


EXAMPLE 


555 


e  a  gr _ 

law  of  the  Kingdom  of  God  that  life  in  tliis  world 
must  be  sacrificed,  if  need  lie,  that  life  eternal  may 
be  gained  as  a  permanent  possession.  After  the 
Saviour's  life  of  service,  the  due  reward  will  be 
honour  from  God.  When  the  heavenly  voice 
spoke,  the  Saviour  was  consoled  and  uplifted  by 
the  thought  that  He  would  cast  out  the  prince  of 
this  world,  and  be  lifted  up  (ui/'wSu)  as  a  victorious 
conqueror.  It  was  a  prediction  of  His  final  triumph 
over  evil,  and  His  eternal  reign  over  all  men.  Tlie 
outwardly  shameful  death  of  the  cross  would  be 
His  true  exaltation  as  the  world's  Saviour.  By 
the  identification  of  outward  events  with  their 
inward  meaning.  He  advances  men's  thoughts  to 
the  idea  of  His  exaltation  to  heaven  as  the  vic- 
torious One.  This  anticipation  of  Jesus  is  the 
starting-point  for  the  Church's  fully  develoiied 
doctrine  of  the  Exaltation.  '  He  rose  again  from 
the  dead  on  the  third  day.  He  ascended  up  into 
hea\en.  He  sitteth  on  the  right  liand  of  God  the 
Father,  He  shall  come  to  judge  the  world  at  the 
last  day.'  See  artt.  ASCENSION,  JUDGMENT, 
Session. 

After  the  predictions  of  His  suffering.  He  al- 
ways spoke  of  His  future  glory.  He  would  rise 
again  from  the  dead  (Mt  l&^].  '  In  the  regenera- 
tion tlie  Son  of  man  shall  sit  on  the  throne  of  His 
glory'  (192«).  'The  Son  of  man  shall  come  in  the 
glory  of  his  Father  with  his  angels,  and  then  shall 
he  render  unto  every  man  according  to  his  deeds ' 
(16").  In  the  sayings  in  the  Gospel  of  John  there 
many  lofty  statements  as  to  His  heavenly  glory 


(cf.  W 


'  etc.). 


David  M.  W.  Laird. 


EXAMPLE.— 

A.  L1NOUI8TIC  iisAOE.— The  word  'example'  (or  'ensaniplc') 
occurs  16  times  in  the  AV  and  17  times  in  the  RV  of  the  NT. 
In  the  two  versions  it  stands  7  times  (1  Co  106,  ph  3",  1  Th  1', 
2  Th  39,  1  Ti  412,  Tit  27  RV,  1  P  63)  for  -z-^tk,  once  (1  Ti  116  RV) 
for  irori^ian;,  once  (1  Co  10")  in  adverljial  phrase  for  iutixj:, 
5  times  (.In  1316,  He  4"  85,  Ja  6io,  2  P  26)  for  iT.>i„.u«,  once  (Ac 
2035)  as  partial  rendering  of  i^ohuy,\vfjit,  once  (Jude  ")  for  liiyfjM, 
once  (Mt  119)  as  partial  rendering  of  iuypucti'!,:^,  and  once  (1  P 
221)  for  iTtiypa.ij.jj.iii.  For  our  present  purpose  Mt  119  falls  quite 
out  of  account.  SfVxwa  (Jude  ^)  is  a  'specimen,'  'an  (illustra- 
tive) exhibit  '—in  this  instance  set  forth  as  a  warning,  though 
of  itself  this  simple  form  hardly  suggests  either  imitation  or 
shunning,  as  hn,li%uyij.a.  does.  The  other  passages  all  more  or 
less  illustrate  the  topic  in  hand.  Besides  these,  there  are,  of 
course,  many  other  passages  which,  though  not  employing  the 
term    '  example,'  are  no  less   relevant   and    significant   than 

TuTo;,  whether  tr.  '  example  '  or  '  pattern,  '  type,'  has  gciur- 
ally  an  important  bearing  upon  mmi  i.^pii  .  liiinniu  ili- 
'mark,'  'impression'  of  a  stroke  nr  M  -  '1  '" '  ;■!  ■  '  ' 
hence  'figure,'  'image'  (Ac  7-13),  7^7  ,1 

'  type,' '  example.'  Sometimes  the  c\:u 
ing,  as  1  Co  106- 1'.  Generally,  how.  1 .  1 
imitated.    A  corresponding  sense  is  t..  i  1 

(ITi  116,  2  Ti   113).     (In  the  Lxtttr    \.  M  

Cremer's   interpretation    '  Abhild  '    .'•.  .     , 

Timothy  is  to  hold  fast  the  'type  ■  "I     1  1, 

received  from  Paul,  and  this  '  type  '  in  ii-i  p     m  i    .       i  ■ 

copy  of  Paul's,  but  as  something  which  had  Ji  ", 

mon  to  both}.— iToS!(>-/Ao;  is  a  concrete  iihisdii ii 

tion,  designed  for  imitation  or    for  warnlim 

former.    In  one  instance  in  the  NT  iTo}n>,u«  i~         ii        ■     1 

representation  (Ger.  Abbild). — u- 


of  the  NT  terms  indicative  of  Christ's  exampleship.  The  term 
itself  implies  the  strictest  imitation  ;  though  both  the  context 
and  the  general  teaching  of  the  NT  will  save  us  from  the  error 
of  conceiving  Christ's  example  as  something  formal  and  ex- 

Among  the  other  terms  which  give  expression  to  the  idea  of 
Christian  example,  the  most  prominent  are  u.ifj.itfj.Ki  and  ^i^vjTijf 
(AV  'follow'  and  'follower,'  ]l\'  'iitiilalc'  and  'imitator'). 
The  verb  occurs  1  hn,--  n,  h,.  m.'  h,  '.  He  13',  3  Jn  n), 
in  one  of  these  in  '  .  ,73.-.    The  noun 

occurs  6  times  1 1  .    .  1 1    .  ;      1  ' ',  He  tii2— at  1  P 

313  the  readiii;^     .  n   cverv  instance 

signifying  'unihilo,  ■  ,„  1  Im-  ,  1 1,,.,., ,:,,,,  ,,  s.'nse.  '  In  Eph  61 

who  are  to  be  imilatedi  in  1  Co  4I6  St.  Paul  exhorts'  to  the 
imitation  of  himself,  rather  than  to  turn  away  from  him,  inas- 
much as  he  was  their  father  in  the  faith.  In  1  Co  111  he  bids 
his  readers  imitate  him  as  he  imitates  Christ.     In  1  Th  16  it  is 

'IS  and  of  the  Lord,'  while  in  1  Th  2"  it  is  'the 


churches  of  God  in  judasa,'  of  whom  the  Thessalonians  had 
become  imitators. 

Jesus  in  gathering  His  disciples  about  Him  generally  bade 
men  '  follow '  Him  (iyjiX.^h,,, ;  in  one  instance,  Mt  419,  iwrt 
oTiTu).  Primarily  the  expression  means  no  more  than  'to  ac- 
company '  as  a  disciple,  and  yet  manifestly  it  became,  m  our 
Lord's  lise  of  it,  one  of  the  most  characteristic  and  intensely 
significant  expressions  of  the  idea  of  discipleship  in  all  its 
deepest  import.  So  where  Christ  bids  the  rich  young  ruler 
sell  all  that  he  has  and  '  come,  follow  me,'  or  in  the  words  on 
'  taking  up  the  cross  and  following,'  and  elsewhere  (see  esp.  Mt 
1921  1038  16'",  Jn  1'2'»  2122).  The  verb  is  not  found  in  the 
Epistles,  except  at  1  Co  104. 

Christ  is  represented  as  the  '  image  '—si'«i»— which  Christians 
are  to  resemble  (Ro  829,  1  co  16-19,  2  Co  3I8,  Col  310).  But  those 
passages  also  which  represent  Christ  as  the  image  of  God  must 
be  taken  no  less  into  account ;  for  Christ's  claim  to  an  uncondi- 
tional personal  authority  is  expressly  based  upon  the  fact  that 
~'      '      *       "  ■'  '        ■'"'  resentation— '"   """ 

115,  He  13- 
lis  connexion  men- 
i  '  children  of  God,' 

t '  (Mt  69'  45, 

;  filial  relation  i 
f  the  example  of  ( 

Besides  the  terms  already  considered,  whicn  give  more  or  less 
formal  expression  to  the  Christian  idea  of  exampleship,  there 
are  many  more,  which — some  of  them  in  the  most  elementary 
and  untechnical  terms— no  less  definitely  express  the  same 
thought.  The  very  idea  of  discipleship  in  our  Lord's  teaching 
involved  the  idea  of  the  personal  exampleship  of  the  Master  (see 
esp.  Mt  102-'.  25,  Lk  1426.  27. 33,  Jn  1333  158).  The  same  thought  is 
expressed  in  Eph  420  'Ye  have  not  so  learned  Christ.'  In  He 
620  Jesus  is  called  our  '  Forerunner.'  His  temptations  are 
typical  (He  29-18  4I6),  and  He  is  our  example  in  the  enduring  of 
temptation  (He  3if-  123ir-).  True  believers  have  the  'mind  of 
Christ'  (1  Co  216,  Ph  25,  of.  Eo  86-  27  122).  Christ  is  the  'life,' 
and  as  such  is  the  'light'  of  men  (Jn  14.9.14.18,  ct.  319  8I2  96 
1235. 36. 4B,  1  Jn  11-3).  He  is  Himself  'the  way,'  etc.  (Jn  146). 
Believers  are  to  'put  on '  Christ  (Eo  131-',  Gal  327,  Eph  424,  Col 
310).  The  Christian's  'walk'  is  to  be  according  to  Christ  (see 
esp.  Jn  1235,  1  Jn  17  26,  Eph  62-  8,  Col  26).  Finally,— for  an  ex- 
haustive study  of  the  linguistic  usage  is  not  intended, — many  of 
the  most  characteristic  expressions  of  the  thought  of  example- 
ship  in  Christianity  are  effected  without  the  use  of  any  peculiar 
terms.  The  word  'as,'  or  something  else  equally  simple  and 
direct,  often  best  serves  the  purpose  (e.g.  Mt  648,  1  p  1I6,  Eph 
432  52, 1  Jn  32  47-21). 

B.  The  Doctrine. —i.  The  example  op 
Christ.— i.  In  the  teaching  of  Jesus  no  truth  is 
more  essential  than  that  God  the  Father  Himself 
is  the  original  and  absolute  example  for  all  per- 
sonal life.  The  Law  is  holy,  for  it  is  the  expres- 
sion of  the  will  of  God.  But  the  letter  apart  from 
God's  immediate  personal  will  is  dead.  As  Jesus 
expounds  the  Law,  the  disciples  learn  to  look 
through  the  particular  commandment  to  the  per- 
sonal will  of  the  living  God.  It  is  not  enough  to 
keep  the  commandment  in  the  most  scrupulous 
f.ashidii,  as  if  it  wen^  something  standing  apart  and 
.(oiipli'lo  in  itself  (Ml  .T-'").  We  have  to  do  directly 
.'illi  (hhI  (liiiisclf.  His  will  and  per.sonal  nature 
III.'  ..HI  s,,!,.  :ai.l  .Hl.si.hit.'  standard  (Mt  f,**-'^).  In 
,iii-\\.T  t.i  thi'  young  ndor  who  asked  what  good 
iliiiij  li.'  shimli'l  do  in  order  to  have  eternal  life, 
Ii  -11  r.hiM's  1,1  be  regarded  as  one  who  might 
|.i..|...-.'  .^11 novel  good — some  good  other  than 

li,.i  wliiih  is  already  known  from  God.  Apart 
11.. Ill  C.il  (here  is  ni>  o.xid  (Mt  IQi"- ").  To  love 
I  i...l  is  thr  lirst  iiiiiiinan.linent ;  and  the  coming  of 
His  kin-.I.iin  and  the  .L.iiig  of  His  will  should  be 
man's  lirst  concern  (Mt  -J^^  &«-^). 

But  Jesus  does  more  than  point  to  God  as  the 
absolute  standard  for  personal  life.  He  comes  to 
make  God  known.  It  is  not  enough  to  know  that 
God  is  the  standard,  so  long  as  God's  nature  is  un- 
known. So  Je.sus  was  sent  as  the  ].iTfi'il  ii\cla 
tion  of  the  Father  (Jn  H'J- 1").  Notllml  C..!  v,a-, 
hitherto  unknown:  what  the  Jews  \\  ..i -lup|i.d 
they  knew  (Jn  422).  Jesus  came  to  cumpletu  the 
revelation  of  God.  He  gives  a  perfect  interpreta- 
tion of  the  mind  and  will  of  God,  and  in  His  own 
Person  perfectly  exemplifies  that  mind  and  will. 
He  is  conscious  of  perfect  accord  with  the  will  of 
the  Father  (Mt  12'"  51"-  ",  Jn  5"  i^  G""*  8=»  14^')- 
His  words  and  acts  He  has  learned  from  the 
Father,  even  from  the  Father's  example  (Jn  8™ 
517. 19),     xhis  principle  determines  His  whole  treat- 


iiient  of  the  Musait-  Law.  The  inevitable  limita- 
tions of  mere  statutes  He  overcomes  by  an  appeal 
to  the  Divine  example  and  order  (as  in  the  case  of 
the  law  of  the  Sabbath  and  the  law  of  marriage, 
Jn  5",  Mt  19'''',  in  the  latter  ease  appealing  also 
to  Scripture  as  well  as  to  fact).  And  because  He 
knows  God  as  the  Son  knows  the  Father — immedi- 
ately and  perfectly  (Jn  7-"  S-""'  lO''',  Mt  11='),  and 
because  He  perfectly  fullils  the  will  of  God,  Jesus 
demands  an  unconditional  following,  which  sluill 
consist,  not  in  copying  the  outward  form,  but  in 
the  most  inward  appropriation  of  the  ruling 
principle  of  His  life  (Mt  7='"="  28™  10==-'^  ll'^-  ^  20'-^--'' 
1624.25  20=2  26»»  S's-^^  19=1,  Jn  IS^-i"  S'"  12»- »»•■"-* 
1312-17  154-7  1721-23  2122).  He  does  not  set  Himself 
forth  as  a  substitute  for  the  Father,  but  as  the 
One  who  knows  God  and  teaches  us  to  know  Him. 
He  is  the  Light  of  Life,  the  Way,  the  Truth,  the 
Life,  the  visible  manifestation  of  God  ( Jn  8'- 14«-  »)• 
Christ's  claim  to   absolute  authority  (wliich   e.x- 


pressly  included  the  judgment  of  the  world,  c..(/. 
Jn  5=-)  is  based  not  upon  His  proiihetic  office  alone, 
but  upon  that  unity  of  word  and  deed  which  con- 


stituted the  perfect  revelation  of  tlie  will  of  God 
Jesus'  own  Person  was  not  left  out  of  His  gospel 
(cf.  Harnack's  statement,  Wesen  des  Christentums, 
p.  91  :  '  Nicht  der  Sohn,  sondern  allein  der  Vater 
gehort  in  das  Evangelium,  wie  1-  Jr^n^  Mvkiindigt 
hat,  hinein').     Not,  indeed,  a^  <.nr  il..(l  1  iiir  .-imong 

many,  nor  as  an  addition  tn  iln-  ■IcHiiii f  the 

Father,  did  Jesus  present  tin-  truth  rduierning 
Himself.  But  He  claimed  to  be  the  perfect  and 
unique  embodiment  and  exemplification  of  the 
Father's  will.  Yet  He  is  more  tlian  mere  exanijjle. 
He  does  not  merely  show  the  way  ;  He  is  the  \\  ay. 
At  the  same  time  He  is  the  Truth  and  tlie  Life. 
He  gives  not  only  the  perfect  example  but  also 
life-power.  In  this  sense,  therefore,  Jesus,  even 
according  to  His  own  teaching,  is  more  than  an 
element  in  the  gospel :  He  is  the  very  essence  of 
the  gospel. 

2.  Christ's  demand  of  an  unconditional  personal 
following  is  reproduced  in  the  Aim^fnlir  pn-arhing. 
But  after  Christ's  passion,  resiii  iv,  1  i,,n,  :ni.l  exalta- 
tion, the  thought  of  His  exain|rli'^lii|)  i^  i'\iianded 
and  heightened.  The  Christ  «li..  .lir^l  l,,i  the  sin 
of  the  world  is  the  perfect  rcv.lai  i..n  ni  ( io.l's  holy 
love  (c. (7.  1  Jn  4"- '"),  while  His  cxrili.ii  icni,  roupled 
with  the  gift  of  His  Spirit,  allmJ,  a-s, nance  that 
the  coveted  likeness  to  Clirist  ami  tin/  |iroinised 
sharing  of  His  glory  shall  lie  reaUzed  (e.g.  Ro 
82.  3. 26-3»)_  The  thought  of  Christ  as  our  examjile 
is  so  variously  and  abundantly  apiilied  by  the  NT 
^vrite^s,  that  it  will  suffice  here  to  notice  particu- 
larly only  the  more  characteristic  passages.  Tlie 
concreteness  of  the  revelation  in  a  personal  life  is 
most  frequently  and  most  strikingly  set  forth  by 
St.  John  (Jn  1^'  "•  >»,  1  Jn  1»  4-'-  •').  Jesus  is  the 
perfect  example  of  the  life  of  faitli,  even  its  Author 
and  Perfecter  (He  12-).  He  was  tempted  like  as 
we  are  (2'"'*  4"'),  and  is  the  perfect  jiattern  of 
patient  endurance  of  all  temptation,  mpii  unto 
death  (3'«f-  12»f-,  1  P  1"  22'-=^  3"  4' ;  cf.  Cclhsrm.a.ir 
and  Calvary  in  the  Gospels).  He  is  om  i\aiii|.Ic 
of  mercy  and  forgiveness  (Eph  4"=,  T'ol  :;'  .  ■_'  ( 'o  _"  1 : 
in  self-tlenial  and   hunibli'  si'rvi<'f  (I'h  -J'"  ,  ■,_'  ( ',,  s", 

ance  (2  Co  In',  l'..l  :>'' \  V.\<\^  I '.  I  I'  ■-'  •:  )ii  Hi-  Ln.' 
that  suircrs,  lal...in-,  aial  dn-s  Im  ,m1i,t.  li  .In  :;  ■, 
2  Co  4"'5'-'-i^  Eph.V---',  <;alb-,  I'ii2-"-);  in  lioii- 
ness  and  purity  (Eph  4=»"-,  1  P  1'^,  1  Jn  3'"^-  4"). 
And  then,  more  broadly,  believers  are  exhorted  to 
•  put  on  Christ,'  or  '  the  new  man,'  renewed  after 
Christ's  image  (Ro  13>S  Eph  4"-«-  ^^  Col  3'°-  ",  Gal 
3-') ;  and  to  '  walk '  in,  or  according  to,  Christ 
(Eph  .')»,  Col2«,  I  Jn  1'  2«).  The  highest  destiny 
of  believers  is  to  be  made  like  Christ  (Ro  8=",  1  J'li 
3=).      In   this  connexion  the  sigiiilicance  of  tli(is(! 


passages  in  which  Christ  is  called  the  image  of 
God  (Col  l'^  He  P,  cf.  Jn  1")  shotxld  not  be  over- 
looked ;  for  God  has  given  us  this  perfect  revela- 
tion in  a  Person  just  in  order  that  we  might  find  in 
Him  our  true  example  and  archetype. 

In  addition  to  these  and  all  other  specific  ex- 
pressions of  the  thought  of  Christ's  exampleship, 
there  stands  the  great  fact  that  the  whole  picture 
which  the  Evangelists  drew  of  Jesus  was  made 
under  the  powerful  influence  of  the  twofold  con- 
viction that  He  was  the  image  of  the  Father,  so 
that  by  Him  we  know  the  '  Christ-like  God,'  and 
that  He  was  the  Ideal  Man — not  an  ideal  creation 
of  human  fancy,  but  the  Ideal-Real  come  from  God 
Himself. 

3.  It  has  already  been  briefly  noted  that  Christ 
Himself  as  well  as  His  disciples  bore  witness  that 
He  was  to  His  own  muck  more  than  mere  cxamjilc. 
The  relation  of  His  followers  to  Jesus  is  something 
more  than  that  of  those  who  are  striving  to  copy 
a  model.  Christ  is  example  in  a  deeper  sense.  He 
is  not  only  'type,'  but  also  'archetype'  (e.(j.  1  Co 
15^™- ^-"Ro  8•^^  He  2'^- ''"-■").  An  example  for 
personal  life  must  in  any  case  be  something  better 
than  a  mould  for  the  multiplication  of  its  own 
form.  Personality  is  interested  in  inward  traits 
and  principles,  which  are  to  be  independently  de- 
veloped ill  tlic  uriatist  variety  of  forms.  But 
Jesus' relat  inn  in  n- li.-rveu  deeper  than  this.  He  is 
the  'arclictx  |.c.'  thf  '  <nijiinal,'  of  our  personal  life. 
Now  an  original  is  imt  passively  there  to  be  copied  ; 
it  sustains  some  sort  of  active  causal  relation  to 
the  copy.  So  Christ  is  our  example  in  this  more 
vital  sense :  He  is  at  once  example  and  original 
(admirably  expressed  in  Ger.  Vorbild  and  Urbild). 
As  our  'original,'  Christ  not  only  (as  in  the  case 
of  mere  examples  in  personal  life)  mysteriously  im- 

gresses  us,  but  also  imparts  life  and  power  through 
[is  Spirit  (Jn  li«-  "  5a-=«,  Ro  8^  Gal  ^,  Col  3=-*, 
1  Jn  S"*^',  and  many  more  passages).  He  who, 
having  fulfilled  the  Law,  is  henceforth  Himself  the 
Law  (Ro  10^  Gal  3=^,  1  Co  9='),  has  engaged  to  work 
likeness  unto  Himself  in  all  who  believe.  So  we 
may  say  with  Augustine  :  '  Give  what  Thou  com- 
mandest,  and  command  what  Thou  wilt.'  If  Christ 
is  to  us  mere  example,  without  renewing  power, 
we  are,  after  all,  '  under  law,'  and  not  '  under 
grace.'  '  But  the  Word  became  not  only  flesh,  but 
also  spirit'  (Kahler,  Wisscnsch.  d.  chr.  Lehre^,  p. 
510.  See  Jn  20='-  -  6«'  1'\  2  Co  3"- '»).  Yet  the 
inward  opmatinn  of  tin'  Spirit  in  producing  likeness 
toClirisI  has  ronslant  and  express  reference  to  the 
lii-li.rir  Clirisl  (.In  li;",  1  Jn4--3). 

4.  Tlu' actn.il  m/ii/ih/ o{  the  picture  of  Christ  as 
example  implies  the  genuine  humanness  of  the 
life  and  the  adequate  fulness  and  clearness  of  the 
picture.  Furthermore,  the  example  must  be  cap- 
able of  universal  application.  As  to  the  human- 
ness of  the  life  of  Jesus,  it  is  suflficient  in  this  con- 
nexion to  jioint  out  that  the  Biblical  witness  is 
without  a  trace  of  questioning  as  to  its  reality. 
Even  the  highest  confessions  of  Jesus  as  the  Son 
of  God  are  never  at  the  expense  of  the  patent 
fact  that  He  is  truly  man.  As  to  the  pictures  of 
Christ  in  the  Gospels,  while  these  are  not  biog- 
raiiliii's,  ns  that  tfrni  is  commonly  understood, 
tin  V  ilo  :j\v,-  a  w..n.h.rlnlly  himiuous  and  vivid 
pniiiaii  ol  till'  |ii'is,.nal  life  nl'  our  Lord.  Using 
iln-  lii-i.irii'al  nialriial  tor  ilir  >aUi'  of  its  Content 
.,1  irnlli.  Ilirv  -.h..»  n-  .l.-n  ■  ihr  Wilin'ss,  in  word 
an.l  .liT,l,  ,,l  111.-  Im.U  1,,x,'  ,,t  r.,.,\.  .and  as  the 
llrarrr  ,,l  l.n,-  an.l  Irnlli  an.l  III,'  I,,  llic  world. 
AHiniinr_.  hn.-  I..  (;...l  an.l  man  a,  ll„.  supreme 
law.  He  lliiii-.li  inllin..l  that  law,  gladly  laying 
down  His  III.'  ihii  II.-  might  glorify  the  Father 
and  brill-  al\aii..ii  i..  ihc  world.  And  this  life 
of  unimayin.-.l  s.-lf  sa.riticc  He  led  to  the  end,  in 
spite  of  maiiifnld  and  tremendous  temptations,  with- 


EXAMPLE 


EXAMPLE 


out  once  deviating  from  the  path  appointed  by 
the  Father.  And  with  it  all  there  was  no  ascetical 
denial  of  the  values  that  are  primarily  temporal : 
nor  did  He  lose  either  joy  or  repose  of  soul  through 
His  sufferings  and  conflicts.  A  marvellous  open- 
ness in  word  and  deed  was  ever  characteristic  of 
Him  who  came  a  Light  into  the  world.  Besides 
all  this,  here  is  a  life  that  manifestly  reached  its 
goal.  The  course  of  that  life  had  been  one  con- 
tinual renunciation  of  juott'ered  worldly  advantage 
and  success ;  nevertheless  its  end  was  a  unique 
triumph.  For  the  real  end  was  not  Calvary,  but 
the  exaltation  to  the  right  hand  of  God.  However 
hidden  this  end  may  be  from  the  unbelieving 
world.  Christian  faith  sees  in  the  resurrection  and 
exaltation  of  Christ  the  one  supreme  proof  that 
righteousness  cannot  fail.  This  is  the  '  conviction 
of  righteousness,'  because  Jesus  has  gone  to  the 
Father  (Jn  16").  Without  such  a  revelation  of  the 
appointed  end  of  faith  and  righteousness  the  ex- 
ample would  be  incomplete,  and  Christian  ethics 
could  not  maintain  its  ideal. 

This  picture  of  Jesus  is  capable  of  universal 
application.  It  is  true  the  vocation  of  Jesus  was 
unique.  And  yet  the  principles  which  controlled 
that  life— perfect  trust  in  the  Father,  and  perfect 
love  to  God  and  man— are  manifestly  applicable 
under  all  possible  circumstances.  Such  love  as 
Christ's  is  the  fulfilling  of  the  Law.  In  one  respect 
only  is  there  a  seeming  limitation— for  it  is  only 
seeming — to  the  universality  of  Christ's  example : 
He  is  without  the  struggle  with  inward  sin — He  can 
be  no  model  for  the  transformation  of  a  sinful  life. 
Inasmuch,  however,  as  the  processes  of  renewal 
are  not  our  aflair— we  need  only  to  be  joined  to 
our  Lord  in  faith  and  to  follow  Him— this  is  no 
lack.  Although  '  a  Jew  of  the  first  century,'  Jesus 
is  the  Son  of  Man,  in  everything  essential  to 
personality  free  from  the  limitations  of  His  own 
time  and  people.  He  is  not  less  the  kinsman  of 
all  peoples ;  He  is  '  the  contemporary  of  every 
age. 

5.  We  have  further  to  consider  the  practical 
relation  of  the  clisci/de  /»  thr  r.ciniiplc  of  Christ. 
We  are  commanded  to  •follow,'  lo  'imitate,'  to 
'put  on  Christ,'  to  'follow  i]i  his  siciis.'  But  how 
are  we  to  conceive  the  [irolilrm  of  discipleship ? 
For,  whUe  the  Church  has  never  failed  to  hear 
the  call  of  Jesus,  '  Follow  me  ! '  the  conception  of 
discipleship  has  sometimes  been  much  distorted. 
In  the  Middle  Ages  the  dominant  thought  was 
asceticism.  The  ascetic  imitation  of  Christ,  of 
which  St.  Francis  is  the  most  noteworthy  example, 
selects  certain  traits  in  His  life,  and  by  undue 
emphasis  upon  these,  together  with  a  neglect  of 
others,  produces  a  distorted  image.  Then  there 
have  been  enthusiasts  who  thought  to  be  able  to 
follow  Christ  in  sharing  His  redemptorial  work — 
exaggerating  and  perverting  such  passages  as 
Ph  3'",  Gal  62,  1  Jn  3'«.  Again,  rationalism  has 
made  of  Christ  simply  a  model  of  virtues  to  be 
copied.  These  three  are  perhaps  the  most  im- 
portant types  of  perversion  of  the  NT  idea  of 
Christ's  exain)ileship ;  but  the  three  appear  in 
various  modifications  and  combinations.  The  only 
safeguard  against  such  errors  seems  to  lie  in  a  con- 
sistent emphasis  upon  the  integrity  of  the  Biblical 
picture  of  Christ. 

Among  evangelical  theologians  the  term  '  imita- 
tion '  of  Christ  is  very  commonly  objected  to  as 
implying  merely  a  formal  copying  of  the  Lord's 
example.  The  word,  of  course,  can  be  so  under- 
.stood  ;  but  so  also  may  the  word  '  following.'  In 
any  event  it  must  be  insisted  upon  that  the  words 
'imitate'  and  'imitator 'in  the  NT  (RV)  have  no 


such  unevangelical 


meaning. 


The  believer's  practical  attitude  to  the  example 
of  Christ  may  be  profitably  studied  in  the  light 


I  of  a  few  characteristic  passages :  (a)  Answering 
to  the  frequent  declaration  of  the  absoluteness  of 
Christ's  authority  {e.g.  Mt  238- '»,  Eph  l^^,  Ph  2»-"), 
there  are  many  passages  which  emphasize  the 
obligation  of  exclusive  loijalty  to  Him  (e.g.,  2  Co 
W  11^  Col  3",  Eph  4»).  (b)  We  are  to  have  the 
mind  of  Christ,  and  to  set  the  mind  on  the  things 
above,  where  Christ  is  (Col  S^«-,  Ro  12=,  Eph  4=»). 
((■)  We  shall  be  transformed  into  the  image  of 
Christ  by  beholding  Him,  though  the  energy  that 
produces  the  result  comes  from  '  the  Lord  the  Spirit ' 
(2  Co  318— see  also  Druramond,  The  Changed  Life), 
(d)  Complementing  the  thought  of  meditation  as  a 
means  to  Christ-likeness,  there  are  various  passages 
which  set  forth  the  more  strenuous  elements  in  the 
following  of  Christ  {e.g.  Ph  3'»-i«).  (c)  Several 
passages  bid  us  'ptU  on  Christ'  or  the  'new  man' 
(Ro  13",  Eph  4"-',  Col  3i»ff-)-  This  relates  to  the 
fornmtion  of  a  Christian  character.  (/)  Jesus  left 
us  an  example,  that  we  should  'follow  in  his 
steps'  (1  P  2^').  Just  as  'the  mind  of  Christ' 
means  inward  reneioal,  and  'putting  on  Christ' 
means  character -building,  so  '  to  walk  in  his  steps ' 
may  fairly  serve  as  a  motto  for  the  exercise  of  Chris- 
tian love  in  all  social  relatio7is.  {g)  The  example  of 
Christ  in  His  personal  consummation  is  the  be- 
liever's most  glorious  hope  (Ro  S-'-",  1  Jn  3=- ',  cf. 
Eph  3").  And  the  hope  set  within  us  is  guaranteed 
by  the  earnest  of  the  Spirit.  We  already  have  a 
measure  of  Christ-likeness — we  are  now  sons  of 
God,  and  His  power  is  working  in  us  to  finish  the 
work  begun  (Ro  8=^,  1  Jn  3'-2  4",  Eph  S''*"-",  Col 
3",  Ph  1«). 

But  all  these  various  aspects  of  our  relation  to 
our  Examjjle  presuppose  the  vital  fellowship  of  a 
personal  faith.  No  '  imitation '  of  Christ  is  accord- 
ing to  the  gospel  if  it  is  anything  else  than  an 
essential  aspect  of  the  life  of  faith.  With  all  its 
rare  beauty  and  power,  the  Imitation  of  Christ  by 
Thomas  k  Kempis  (?)  is  li,-inlly  conceived  in  the 
plane  of  the  perfect  l:i\v  of  lihniy.  And  yet,  over 
against  the  widesprciid  (|ui'sl  io}iii'i^;  of  the  universal 
applicability  of  Clirisfs  cxiimplc,  as  well  as  the 
ethical  shallowness  and  indeliniteness  of  a  religion 
of  mere  feeling,  too  much  stress  cannot  be  laid 
upon  the  vocation  of  the  Christian  to  take  up  the 
cross  daily  and  follow  the  Lord.  '  This  is  the  love 
of  God,  that  we  keep  his  commandments '  (1  Jn  5'). 
The  full  gospel  principle  of  the  freedom  of  the  Spirit 
being  presupposed,  the  question,  '  What  would 
Jesus  do  ? '  (see  Sheldon,  /»  Bis  Stejis),  is  not  un- 
warranted. But  to  walk  in  the  Spirit  implies  that 
we  are  not  seeking  merit  or  virtue  for  our  own 
satisfaction,  but  are  seeking  to  glorify  God.  To  do 
all  'in  the  name  of  the  l^ord  Jesus'— no  more  com- 
prehensive or  profound  (■Ni>r(ssion  of  the  funda- 
mental law  of  Christi.ui  li\  inu  rould  be  conceived  ; 
and  just  this,  after  all,  is  w  hut  is  meant  by  follow- 
ing Christ.  Our  task  is  not  in  the  narrower  sense 
to  copy  Him,  but  to  receive  His  Spirit,  to  under- 
stand His  mind,  to  let  Him  be  formed  within  us. 
So  we  shall  also  '  walk '  in  Him. 

ii.  Tbe  example  of  the  followers  of 
Christ. — '  One  is  your  Teacher— one  is  your 
Master,  even  the  Christ '  (Mt  238- '»).  '  Other  foun- 
dation can  no  man  lay  than  that  which  is  laid, 
which  is  Jesus  Christ'  (1  Co  3").  This  relation  of 
our  Lord  to  us  is  unique  and  exclusive.  He  is  our 
life.  We  have  been  renewed  after  His  image. 
But  just  because  this  is  so— just  because  He  does 
beget  in  His  followers  a  likeness  to  Himself— those 
who  bear  His  image  are  fitted  to  be  examples ; 
only,  of  course,  their  exampleship  is  relative  and 
mediate.  He  who  said  concerning  Himself,  'I  am 
the  light  of  the  worid '  (Jn  8'=  9^),  said  also  to  His 
disciples,  'Ye  are  the  salt  of  the  earth,  ye  are 
the  light  of  the  world'  (Mt  5"-'«).  But  they  are 
this  just  because  they  are  His  followers,  and  in 


558 


EXCLUSIVENESS 


KXCLUSIVENESS 


virtue  of  what  they  have  from  Him.  In  various 
ways  our  Lord  recognizes  the  value  of  good  ex- 
ample ;  for  instance,  where  He  warns  against  the 
bad  example  of  the  scribes  and  Pharisees  (Mt  23''^). 
He  prays  for  His  disciples :  '  As  thou  didst  sentl 
me  mto  tlie  world,  even  so  sent  I  them  into  tlie 
world'  (Jn  17"*).  They  were  to  be  His  witnesses  ; 
they  were  to  do  nothing  in  their  own  name.  And 
yet,  in  tinU-r  tliiit  tlifv  iiii-Iit  lir  true  witnesses, 
they  niu-,1  !»•  -aiKlilii-.l' in  i\w  truth.  Tlieir  minis- 
try for  Cl.ri-t  iiiusi  !„•.  likrClnisl 'sewn  ministry, 
an  intL-u-i'ly  /,.,:■.-.,„. d  ..m-.  Ami  when  the  Lord 
gives  to  His  disciples  that  'example'  of  liumble 
service  in  washing  their  feet  (Jn  IS'"-),  and  else- 
where (17°^  13^*)  sliows  that  they  shall  preach  Him 
tlirough  a  life  of  love  as  well  as  by  word,  it  cannot 
be  doubted  that  He  places  a  very  high  value  on  the 
example  of  His  followers. 


The  NT  writer 
lay  great  stress  i 
(1  P2inr-3i-2  1' 
.special  emphasis 


t-nally,  esperi.illy  St.  Paul  and 


doubtful  is  cleail\  stl  I 
Paul  shows  the  peculiuri 
example.  Reckoninj,^  tli 
report,  and  including  all  1 


Ph  sn  49,  2  ■ 
Churches  hi 
element  of  ! 


example,  and  a  ninth  (i 
cutnniendation  is  lacki 
eranse  ,St.  Paul  is  pre  c-l 


simplest  devotion  to  Chrisl. 
is  Paul?  Ministers  throii^'li 
the  Lord  ^ave  to  him '  (1  Co  : 
judged  as  a  minister  of  Chris 


3od^( 


,lCo4i).     Heii 
ything  exemplary 


sincerity  of  1 
God  I  an 
neither 


I  discipleship  and  service, 
m'(l  Co  151").    Glorying 


f  beli^ 


ed.    And 

akes  the 

principal  proof  of  the  doctrine  ;  it  is, 

confirmatory.    The  Apostolic  doctrine  thus 


however,  i 

outlined  is  of  such  simplicity,  that  its  universal  acce] 
the  Church  is  hindered  only  by  the  same  carnal  mil 
caused  many  even  in  St  Paul's  day  to  '  walk  accordintr  ' 

(100  33). 


Chriyi,, 

Die  L/.'.  .-,.  ' 
1902  ;  .Scliolz,  ■  I 
religiose  Unteru 
neSB  of  Jems; 
1902.  and  Tlic 


JI.' 


Char 


•;lt. 


EXCLUSIYENESS.-The  term  is  here  employed 
to  denote  tlKit  <  lirist's  earthly  ministrv  was  con- 
fined to  the  pcnpl..  of  Isr-ipl.  '  Th.'  pMs'^M-rs  bear- 
ing on  the  Mil.|rrt  l..:i\r  no  .lonl.l  tli.n  Christ 
regarded  tile  .M'--i.inir  mi-Mun  ,iit  i  n-i-d  lo  Him 
by  the  Father  a ^  liiuU.-.l  i,,  ilir  .!,■«  i-li  naliun,  and 
in  practice  He  kejit  within  the  liiiiils  ijiipo^ed  by 
the  Divine  decree.  Only  on  one  occasion  do  we 
find  Him  crossing  the  borders  of  the  Holy  Land 
into  heathen  territory  (Mk  7^),  and  on  that  occa- 
sion His  object  was  not  to  extend  the  sphere  of 


His  work,  but  to  secure  an  interval  of  rest  and 
leisure  for  the  private  instruction  of  His  disciples. 
^Vhen  the  Syrophrenician  woman,  seizing  the 
opportunity  presented  by  His  presence  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood, apiJealed  to  Him  to  heal  her  demoniac 
daughter.  He  justified  Himself  at  first  for  refusing 
by  the  statement,  '  I  am  not  sent  but  unto  the  lost 
sheep  of  the  house  of  Israel'  (Mt  15-^).  At  an 
earlier  date,  in  His  instructions  to  the  Twelve  in 
view  of  their  missionary  journey,  the  area  of  their 
work  was  sharply  defined  in  the  words,  '  Go  not 
into  any  way  of  the  Gentiles,  and  enter  not  into 
any  city  of  the  Samaritans :  but  go  rather  to  the 
lost  sheep  of  the  house  of  Israel'  (Mt  W-").  It 
has  been  alleged  that  this  restriction  of  His  work 
was  occasioned  by  want  of  sympathy  with  those 
outside  the  Jewish  pale,  in  proof  of  which  appeal 
is  made  to  some  of  His  sayings,  such  as  those 
in  which  He  characterizes  Gentiles  as  'dogs' (Mt 
IS'^"  II),  directs  His  disciples  to  treat  an  impenitent 
otlender  as  '  an  heathen  man  and  a  publican  '  (Mt 
IS'"),  and  enjoins  them  to  '  use  not  vain  repetitions, 
as  the  heathen  do  '  (Mt  6'). 

The  fact  of  Clirist's  nttitude  of  aloofness  toward 
the  Gentile  m  nrM  I  hninuliout  His  earthly  ministry 
is  quite  evidiiii .  In  t\|iliiiiation  of  it  various  con- 
siderations lia\c-  lo  Iji-  taken  into  account.  (1)  His 
vocation  as  •  a  minister  of  the  circumcision '  (Ro  15") 
led  Him  to  avoid  as  far  as  possible  work  among 
■Samaritans  and  Gentiles.  As  the  Messianic  King, 
who  came  in  fulfilment  of  OT  prophecies,  His 
apjjeal  would  naturally  be,  in  the  hrst  instance,  to 
'  His  own'  (Jn  1").  (2)  The  whole  history  of  the 
.Jewish  peoi^le  having  been  a  preparation  for  the 
Kingdom  of  God,  He  recognized  in  its  members 
'  the  cliildren  of  tlie  kingdom '  (Mt  8'-).  By  virtue 
of  possessing  the  oracles  of  God,  Israel  alone  was 
fitted  to  appreciate  the  message  of  the  Kingdom, 
Nvhich  could  not  be  presented  to  the  world  at  large 
without  a  preparatory  training,  involving  more  or 
less  delay.  (3)  To  secure  a  favourable  reception 
for  His  message  it  was  necessary  to  avoid,  as  far 
as  possible,  arousing  the  prejudice  and  alienating 
the  sympathy  of  His  Jewish  hearers,  who  would 
have  resented  any  teaching  or  practice  tending  to 
place  Gentile  comnmnities  on  a  level  of  privilege 
with  themselves  (Lk  i"-^-"-^).  (4)  The  shortness  of 
His  earthly  ministry  made  it  imperative  that  He 
should  restrict  the  field  to  be  evangelized,  and  not 
be  diverted  from  His  immediate  purpose  of  estab- 
lishing the  Kingdom  among  the  chosen  people  by 
the  claims  of  those  outside,  however  urgent  and 
undeniable.  (5)  Assuming  that  the  Kingdom  was 
destined  ultimately  to  be  universal,  its  triumph 
anioii;^  till'  .Trws  vc.uld  evidently  be  the  most 
-!i'rr.-fiil  iii,-ilio,l  of  ^iTuriug  its  exteusion  to 
oilhi  ii:aion-,  A^  a  iiiattcr  of  fact,  it  was  Jewish 
aillicii'Tils  who  aflciw.anls  became  the  agents  of 
>lireading  it  among  the  (ientiles. 

Among  the  reasons  why  Gentiles  were  excluded 
from  the  scope  of  Christ's  personal  ministry,  want 
of  sympathy  cannot  be  included.  The  evidence, 
instead  of  proving  want  of  sympathy,  is  all  the 
other  way.  He  granted  the  request  of  the  Roman 
■  enturion  who  sought  the  healing  of  his  servant, 
eulogizing  at  tlie  same  time  his  faith  as  something 
without  a  parallel  even  in  Israel  (Mt  8'").  The 
ajjparent  coldness  of  His  demeanour  toward  the 
Syrophoenician  woman  was  due  to  the  embarrass- 
ing nature  of  her  petition,  which  required  Him  to 
violate  the  principle  by  which  His  conduct  had 
been  governed  hitherto.  He  was  anxious  to  help, 
if  He  could  do  so  without  sacrificing  the  interests 
of  those  who  had  the  first  claim  upon  His  services. 
The  terra  '  dogs '  has  been  objected  to  on  the 
ground  that  it  is  insulting.  The  woman  herself 
did  not  view  it  in  this  light,  and  her  quick  wit 
turned  it  into  an  argument  in   her  own  favour. 


EXCOMMUNICATION 


EXCOMMUNICATION 


The  term  (/cwdpia),  Tiioreovcr,  does  not  denote  the 
ownerless  doys  whieli  :iit  as  sc-iviMipfisin  the  East, 
but  the  householil  i>r(s  wliirli  si-i  vi'  iis  Uie  children's 
playmates.  The  s<iu|.li..s  win.  h  lr,l  Christ  to  with- 
hold for  a  moment  the  help  suu,t;ht,  were  in  the  end 
overcome  by  the  woman's  faith,  which  won  His 
cordial  approval. 

There  is  no  trace  of  racial  or  religious  bias  in 
Christ's  references  to  the  heathen.  Any  repug- 
nance implied  in  His  language  is  toward  what  is 
evil  in  their  system  or  in  their  conduct.  It  is  their 
method  of  prayer  with  which  He  has  no  sympathy, 
and  which  He  stigmatizes  as  unworthy  of  imitation. 
Their  lives  were  often  such  as  to  make  close 
association  with  them  unadvisable,  and  the  im- 
penitent offender  is  regarded  as  on  a  par  with  them 
in  this  respect.  Clirist's  attitude  toward  piiblicans, 
wlio  are  bracketed  with  heathen,  was  anything  but 
unsympathetic  ;  and  if  He  felt  toward  lieathen  in 
the  same  way,  they  were  objects  not  of  dislike, 
but  of  the  deepest  compassion.  See  also  artt. 
Gentiles,  Mission.?.  W.  S.  Montgomery. 

EXCOMMUNICATION  denotes  the  exclusion, 
either  temporary  or  permanent,  and  specifically 
on  moral  or  religious  grounds,  of  a  member  of  a 
religious  body  from  the  privileges  which  member- 
ship in  that  body  ordinarily  carries  with  it.  Tlie 
word  does  not  occur  in  EV,  but  we  have  in  the 
Gospels  several  references  to  the  practice  as  it 
existed  among  the  Jews  in  the  time  of  Christ, 
while  certain  words  of  Christ  Himself  supjily  the 
germs  of  the  usage  of  the  Christian  Cliurch  as  it 
meets  us  in  the  Ai)ostolie  age  and  was  subse- 
quently developed  in  the  ecclesiastical  discipline 
of  later  times. 

i.  Jewish  excommunication. — Passing  over 
the  segregation  of  lepers,  though  this  generally 
implied  exclusion  from  the  synagogue  (MtS-ilILk 
IV"),*  and  coming  to  excommunication  of  the  more 
specific  kind,  we  find  that  it  is  certainly  referred 
to  four  times  in  the  Gospels,  viz.  Lk  6-^  ('  blessed 
are  ye  .  .  .  when  they  shall  separate  you  from 
their  company '—d0o/)i<ruo-i>'  v/ia^),  Jn  9-^  ('for  tlie 
Jews  had  agreed  already  that  if  any  man  should 
confess  hira  to  be  Christ,  he  should  be  put  out  of 
the  synagogue '  — d7roffwd7w705  -yev-qTai),  Jn  12"'^ 
('they  did  not  confess  him,  lest  they  should  be 
put  out  of  the  synagogue' — iVa  ixr)  a-n-oawdyu-yoi. 
'yivuvTo.i),  Jn  16-  ('they  sh.all  put  you  out  of  the 
synagogues' — airoawayur^ov;  Tron'iaovcni^  i>/j.a.s).  It  is 
not  unlikely,  however,  tliat  a  fifth  reference 
should  be  found  in  the  ^i^l3a\ov  avrdv  ^iw  of  .Jn 
931. 35  (gQ  AVm  and  many  (•omiiientators).  Mej'er 
and  Westcott  {Gospel  of  ,Sf.  John)  object  to  this 
that  no  sitting  of  the  Sanhedrin  had  taken  place, 
and  that  the  persons  who  cross-questione<l  the  for- 
merly blind  man  were  not  competent  to  pronounce 
the  sentence  of  excommunication.  It  is  true,  no 
doubt,  that  excommunication  properly  denotes  a 
formal  sentence  passed  by  the  officials  of  the  con- 
gregation (Schiirer,  HJP  11.  ii.  60), — though  in 
Talmudic  times  a  minor  fonii  of  excomnmnication 
by  an  individual,  and  especially  by  a  raltbi,  was 
also  recognized  { Jewish  Kiir,/,-.  Vol.  v.  p.  286  f.),— 
but  as  it  was  'the  Jews,'  i'l'..  in  the  language  of 
the  Fourth  Gospel  the  Jewish  authorities,  who 
expelled  the  man,  it  seems  quite  possible  that  the 
examination  described  in  Jn  9  was  of  a  formal 
nature.  This  is  confirmed  by  the  exjiressions, 
'  they  bring  to  the  Pliarisees  him  that  aforetime 
was  blind'  (v."),  'they  called  the  parents'  (v.'«), 
'they  called  a  second  time  the  man  that  was  blind' 

♦  Being  forbidden  to  enter  a  walled  town,  they  could  not 
worship  in  the  synagogue  in  such  places ;  but  in  unwalled 
towns  a  corner  was  frequently  reserved  for  them  in  the  syna- 
gogue, on  condition  that  they  were  the  first  to  enter  and  the 
last  to  depart  (see  Hastings'  DB  iii.  B7»). 


(v.='),  which  suggests  an  authoritative  summons 
before  an  official  body.  And  when  we  read  in  v.^ 
'Jesus  heard  that  they  had  cast  him  out,'  this 
seems  to  imply  that  some  grave  act  of  formal 
censure  liml  lieeii  passed  upon  the  man. 

Oi  I  111-  '  ■'  :l  :'  excommunication  was  practised 
in  til      I  iiigogue  in  the  time  of  Christ, 

these  |i:i,;iji  -  i.a,ve  us  in  no  doubt.  But  now 
comes  tlie  quesiiun  whether  at  that  time  there 
were  difl'erent  kinds  of  excommunication.  In  the 
Talmud  two  degrees  are  recognized,  a  minor, 
niddAi  ('nj),  and  a  major,  herein  (onn) ;  the  former 
being  a  temporary  exclusion  from  tlie  synagogue 
together  with  a  restriction  upon  social  intercour.se 
with  others,  while  the  latter  amounted  to  a  ban  of 
indefinite  or  permanent  duration.*  It  must  be 
remeinliereil,  huweM'r,  tli.U  as  an  authority  upon 
Jewish  iis.iues  I  lie  'l',i I iiiiiil  does  not  carry  us  back 
to  the  e:nlie-l  rhii^iiaii  age,  and  that  for  the 
practice  of  .lewish  cimrls  in  the  time  of  our  Lord 
the  NT  itself  is  our  only  real  source  of  information. 
And  while  it  has  sometimes  been  fancied  that  in 
the  Gospels  we  have  an  indication  of  two  kinds  or 
degrees  of  excommunication — the  diroirmdyuiyoi  of 
Jn  9"  12*''  16^  being  distinguished  either,  as  some- 
thing more  severe,  from  the  Aipopi^ei.i'  of  Lk  6-,  or, 
as  something  more  mild,  from  the  iKf^aWeiv  of  Jn 
934.35_t,he  truth  is  that  there  are  no  a.lequate 
grounds  for  such  discriminatinn^.  M  is.  nt Course, 
quite  possible,  and  even  likely,  ilial  111  lie-  lime  of 
Christ  there  were  distinct  grade-  n|  .x.  lu-ieii  from 
the  privileges  of  the  .Jewish  c.iiiniiiniil  \ .  corre- 
sponding to  the  lutev  iiidd li i  and  /e/v///,i  hut  the 
NT  cannot  be  said  to  testily  to  aiiyilnng  more 
than  the  fact  of  excommunicalioii  ilselt. 

For  the  immediate  origin  of  the  jiractice  of 
excommunication  as  it  meets  us  in  the  Gospels,  we 
have  only  to  go  back  to  Ezra  and  the  days  after 
the  E.xile,  when  the  strictest  discipline  was  abso- 
lutely essential  to  the  solidarity,  indeed  to  the 
very  existence,  of  the  Jewish  Church  and  nation. 
Ezra  insisted  that  those  Jews  who  hatl  married 
foreign  wives  should  either  put  away  both  their 
wives  and  the  children  born  of  them,  or  forfeit 
their  whole  substance  and  be  separated  from  the 
congregation  of  Israel  (Ezr  lO^).  But  the  ultimate 
roots  of  the  practice  are  to  be  sought  in  the  Penta- 
teuchal  legislation,  with  its  exclusion  of  the  cere- 
monially unclean  from  the  camp  of  the  congregation 
(Lv  13*^-  **,  Nu  5'-- ''),  and  its  devotion  to  destruction 
(mn,  whence  D"3n)  of  whole  cities  or  tribes  as  enemies 
of  Israel  (Dt  2''*  S'^  7- ;  cf.  Jg  21",  where  the  men 
of  Jabesh-gilead  themselves  fall  under  the  ban  of 
extermination  for  not  coming  up  to  Mizpeh  along 
\\ith  their  brethren). 

With  regard  to  the  grounds  on  which,  in  our  Lord's 
time,  sentence  of  excommunication  was  passed,  the 
Talmud  speaks  of  twenty-four  oH'cnces  as  being 
thus  puiiislialile  -a  rouml  number  wliiih  is  not  to 
be  taken  t..o  literally  (.A -r/sA  /we,,,-,,  .art.  '  Ex- 
comiimiiicatien  ■)      lliciuuh   latei-  Kabliiiiieal   .lutho- 


aut 


When  we  read  that  the  rulers  decreed  that  any  one 

*  The  attempt  has  sometimes  been  made  to  discover  in  the 
language  of  the  Talnuid  a  thud  and  more  n\\  ful  kmd  of  excom- 
munication named  j,/iami  atla  {i^n  l)  and  in  ace  idancewith 
this  it  has  been  supposed  thit  thci  n  a\  1  1  r  f  i  11  e  to  the 
three  presumed  def,rees  of  Jl  \ish  e\  ini  lun  il  n  I  k  e^^ — 
the\  shall  separate  \oii  from  thtir  oui]  in\  (  '/')  and 
reproach  \on(ft  tt.ii)  and  cast  out  \our  nai  le  isl\i1  (sham- 
matt  i)  But  It  13  now  f,ei  erall\  aeknow ledt,ed  that  the  idea 
of  this  thieef  Id  distin  tun  ih  due  to  a  mistake  and  that, 
IS  used  in  the  T-ilmud  la  i  itt  <  is  simply  a  general  designa- 
tion foi  both  the  inlilii    md  the  hrrem  (see  Buxtorf   LeXK-mi, 

t  II  1      1    I                                                      he  constant  L\X 

rei  1  '  lCh27)  and 

th  t  th  in  the  NT  as 

e\i  1  uig  (Mk  147),  Ac 


EXCOMMUNICATION 


EXCUSE 


who  confessed  Jesus  to  l^o  T'lni^t  sliould  be  put  out 
of  the  synagogue  (Jn  !i  -'  I-"  i.  I  lii^  may  show  that 
they  possessed  a  laiu>  (li-rivu.>iiary  power  of 
fixing  the  grounds  (it  .•.  (  lisia^tical  censure.  But 
if  the  later  lists  of  Talinudical  writers  rest  on 
traditions  that  go  back  to  the  time  of  Christ,  there 
were  certain  recognized  categories  of  ott'ence,  sucli 
as  'dealing  lightly  with  any  of  the  Rabbinic  or 
Mosaic  ]irecepts,'  under  which  it  would  be  easy  for 
the  Jewish  casuists  to  arraign  any  one  who  called 
Jesus  Master  or  acknowledged  Him  to  be  the 
Messiah. 

ii.  Christian  excommunication.— It  lies  be- 
yond the  scope  of  this  Dictionary  to  deal  with 
excommunication  as  practised  in  the  Apostolic 
Church,  and  as  it  meets  us  especially  in  tlie  Pauline 
writings.  But  in  the  teaching  of  our  Lord  Himself 
we  find  the  principles  at  least  of  the  rules  which  St. 
Paul  lays  down  in  1  Co  5,  2  Co  «"",  1  Ti  1™,  Tit  3". 

In  Mt  16"  Jesus  promises  to  St.  Peter  the  keys 
of  the  Kingdom  of  heaven,  so  that  whatsoever  he 
shall  bind  on  earth  shall  be  bound  in  heaven,  and 
whatsoever  he  shall  loose  on  earth  shall  be  loosed 
in  heaven.  In  Mt  18"''*  He  makes  a  similar  pro- 
mise to  the  Church  geneially,  or  to  the  Twelve  as 
representing  the  ecdesia— not  'qua  apostles  with 
ecclesiastical  authority,  but  qua  disciples  with  the 
ethical  power  of  morally  disciplined  men'  (Bruce, 
Expositor's  Gr.  Test.,  in  loc.  ;  cf.  further  Jn  202^'). 
And  in  the  immediately  preceding  context  (vv.'^-") 
He  gives  directions  as  to  the  way  in  which  an 
otl'ending  brother  is  to  be  dealt  with  in  the  Church. 
The  injured  person  is  first  to  go  to  liini  privately 
and  endeavour  to  show  him  his  fault.  If  he  will 
not  listen,  one  or  two  other  Chiisti.ui  ImThren  are 
to  accompany  the  first  as  «ii]i  -  i  i;  in  any 
legal  sense,  we  must  suppn -  -con- 

sensus in  moral  judgment  i n  :  lUi  the 

conscience'  (Bruce,  op.  cit.,  n,  .  . ;.  1;  Iil  is  still 
obdurate,  the  Church  is  now  to  be  appealed  to : 
'and  if  lie  refuse  to  hear  the  Church  {eKKXrjirla] 
also,  let  him  be  unto  thee  as  the  Gentile  and  the 
publican.'  That  e/cxXTjaia  in  this  passage  means 
the  community  of  Christian  believers,  and  not,  as 
Hort,  for  example,  thinks  (Christian  Ecdesia, 
p.  10),  the  Jewish  local  community,  seems  in 
every  way  probable.  Jesus  had  already  spoken  at 
Ca'sarea  of  tlie  iKkK-qala  that  is  built  on  Christian 
faith  and  confession  (Mt  16'*),  and  it  was  altogether 
natural  that  on  this  later  occasion  He  should  refer 
to  it  again  in  speaking  of  tlie  relations  between 
Christian  brethren.  But  it  would  be  a  mistake  to 
find  in  this  passage  any  reference  to  a  formal 
process  of  excommunication  on  the  part  of  the 
Church.  The  ottender  of  whom  Christ  speaks 
excommunicates  himself  from  tlie  Christian  com- 
munity by  refusing  to  listen  to  its  united  voice, 
and  the  members  of  the  community  have  no  option 
but  to  regard  him  as  an  outsider  so  long  as  he 
maintains  that  attitude.  That  Jesus  meant 
nothing  harsh  by  tlie  expression  'as  the  Gentile 
and  the  publican,'  and  certainly  did  not  mean  a 
permanent  exclusion  from  the  Christian  society, 
may  be  judged  from  the  way  in  which  He  treated 
a  Roman  centurion  and  a  Syrophcenician  woman, 
and  from  the  name  given  Him  by  His  enemies— 
'  the  friend  of  publicans  and  sinners.'  No  doubt 
in  an  organized  society  a  solemn  and  formal  act 
such  as  St.  Paul  prescribes  in  1  Co  5'-  °  is  a  natural 
deduction  from  the  words  of  Christ  in  this  passage ; 
but  it  cannot  be  said  that  sucli  an  act  is  definitely 
enjoined  by  the  Lord  Himself.  It  is  the  attempt 
to  find  here  the  authoritative  institution  of  excom- 
munication as  a  formal  act  of  ecclesiastical  disci- 
pline that  gives  a  colour  of  justification  to  the 
contention  of  some  critics  (e.g.  Holtzmann,  Hnnd- 
Commentar  ziim  NT,  in  loc.)  that  what  we  have  in 
this  passage  is  not  an  actual  saying  of  Jesus,  but 


a  reflexion  of  the  ecclesiastical  practice  in  the 
Jewish-Christian  circles  for  which  the  Gospel  of 
Matthew  was  written. 

From  our  Lord's  teaching  in  this  passage  it 
seems  legitimate  to  infer  that,  though  excom- 
munication may  become  necessary  in  the  interests 
of  the  Christian  society,  it  should  never  be  resorted 
to  until  every  other  means  has  been  tried,  and  in 
particular  should  be  preceded  by  private  dealing 
ill  a  brotherly  and  loving  spirit.  From  the  two 
parables  of  the  Tares  and  the  Wheat  (Mt  13--'-*'- 
^"■■•S)  and  the  Draw-net  (Mt  13-"-=")  we  may  further 
gather  that  Christ  would  have  His  people  to 
exercise  a  wise  patience  and  caution  in  the  use 
even  of  a  necessary  instrument.  Mt  18'^"  shows 
that  there  are  offences  which  are  patent  and 
serious,  and  are  not  to  be  passed  over.  But  from 
the  two  parables  referred  to  we  learn  the  impossi- 
bility of  the  Donatist  dream  of  an  absolutely  pure 
Church.  Not  even  those  who  have  the  enligliten- 
ment  of  the  Spirit  are  infallible  judges  of  character. 
The  absolute  discrimination  between  '  the  good ' 
and  '  the  bad '  (Jit  13**)  must  be  postponed  till 
'the  end  of  the  age'  (v.*).  Only  under  the  per- 
sonal rule  of  the  Son  of  Man  Himself  shall  all 
tilings  tliat  otfend  (iravra  ri  iTKdi>5a\a)  be  gathered 
out  of  His  Kingdom  (v.-"). 

Literature.— Artt.  on  '  Excommunication '  in  Hastings'  DB, 
Encyc.  Bibl.,  and  Jeudah  Encyc. ;  Schiirer,  BJP  ii.  ii.  p.  59  fif.  ; 
Weber,  Jiid.  Theol.",  Index,  s.v.  'Bann' ;  Maitensen,  Christian 
Ethics,  iii.  p.  330  fl. ;  the  Commentaries  of  Meyer,  Alford, 
Westcott  (Gospel  of  St.  John),  and  Bruce  (Expositor's  Gr. 
Test.)  on  the  passages  referred  to  ;  Bruce.  Parabolic  Teachinij 

of  Christ,  p.  4-2  sf.  J.  c.  Lambert.  ' 

EXCUSE.— 'To  make  excuse'  (TrapaiTe7a0iu),  Lk 
14'*,  means  to  avert  displeasure  by  entreaty,  to 
crave  indulgence,  to  seek  to  be  freed  from  an 
obligation  or  duty.  (Cf .  the  use  of  '  excuse '  in 
Dampier,  Voimn'-s.  ii.  1.  99:  'In  the  evening  he 
sent  me  out  nt  tlir  I'alare.  desiring  to  be  excused 
that  he  (.cmM  imi  .ntirtaiu  me  all  night'),  irapat- 
TetirBai  is  u-ud  lij  .luM/phus  exactly  as  here  of 
declining  an  invitatiuii  (Ant.  VII.  viii.  2).  Ix^  /»e 
irapTiTriiiei'Ov  (vv.''*- '")  may  be  a  Latinisni  for  habe 
me  excusatum,  but  see  INleyer  and  Weiss  contra. 

These  guests  had  evidently  received  a  previous 
invitation,  as  is  customarj'  in  the  East,  which 
they  had  accepted  (vv."'-  '0.  Their  unanimity,  the 
absence  of  an  adversative  aWi.  or  U,  and  the  order 
of  the  words,  eoiiibiiie  to  make  TrapatTeioSai  a  sur- 
prise wlieii  it  .■..iiifs  i,oiuia~t  v.i').  They  did  not 
uivc  u  (liicci  iciiisal,  111.  y  "'-n-  detained  by  certain 
liin.lraiir.'-  \\liirli  \\,-rr  'ii..t  \Mi.nL;'  in  themselves, 
but  tlicy  all  slici«i'.|  tlie  saiuc  spirit  in  rejecting 
the  invitation  because  they  preferred  to  follow 
their  own  inclinations.  The  first  had  bought  a 
field,  he  was  elated  by  his  ah-eady  acquired  pos- 
sessions (Trench,  Parables),  and  alleged  a  necessity 
(?xw  avayKv) ;  '  Sippe  concurrunt  tempora  gratifc 
acceptissima  et  inundana  negotia  urgentissima ' 
(Bengel).  The  second  may  illustrate  the  anxiety 
of  getting ;  he  alleges  rather  his  plan  and  purpose 
(7ropei)o/«ii).  The  third  was  detained  by  pleasure  ; 
ills  marriage  seemed  a  sufficient  reason,  and  he 
simply  said  oi>  Sum/mi.  Gerhard  sums  up  the 
hindrances  as  'dignitates,  opes,  voluptates,'  cf.  Lk 
8'*.  '  His  omnibus  niederi  poterat  sanctum  illud 
odium  V.  26 '  (Bengel). 

'  Kxcuse '  is  also  used  in  RV  for  wp6<t>a(ns  ( Jn  15^), 
so  Wye,  Vulg.  (crcusatio) ;  AV  follows  Tindale 
'cloke.'  Cf.  Ps  140  (141)^  rod  Tpo<pa(rlfeiT0at  irpo- 
(/>a(T(is  ey  a/iapTian ;  Vulg.  '  ad  excusandas  excu.sa- 
tiones  in  peccatis.'  The  Jews  had  no  longer  any- 
thing to  plead  in  their  own  defence,  as  was  pos- 
sible in  times  of  ignorance. 

LrrERATURK.— Comm.  of  Meyer  and  Plummer,  in  loc. ;  works 
of  Trench,  Bruce,  and  Dods  on  Parables  :  Thomson,  LB  p.  125. 
\V.  H.  DUNDAS. 


FACE 


3G1 


EXORCISM.— See  Demon. 

EXPIATION.  —  See  Atonement,  Death  of 
Christ,  Ransom,  Reconciliation,  Redemption. 

EXTORTION  {apTay^).—'Thc  word  is  used  by 
Christ  in  His  terrible  arraignment  of  the  scribes 
and  Pharisees,  on  account  of  tlie  way  in  which,  by 
their  methods  of  plunder,  they  openly  violated  the 
Scriptures  they  knew  so  well  (Mt  23-^  Lk  ll'"). 
Isaiah  (16^)  had  predicted  the  cessation  of  the 
extortioner  as  one  of  the  signs  of  the  Messianic 
reign.  Ezekiel  (22'-)  had  inveighed  against  this 
sin  as  one  of  the  transgressions  of  Israel  which 
called  forth  the  Divine  wrath.  Yet  they,  who 
claimed  !to  keep  the  Law  to  the  letter,  and  who 
professed  to  be  the  teachers  of  the  Law,  fattened 
themselves  on  e.\tortioii  and  tilled  their  cups  by  it. 
For  the  methods  of  extortion  practised  by  the 
publicans  see  art.  Publican. 

Henry  E.  Doskee. 

EYE.— The  OT  usage  of  'eye'  (i:y),  with  its 
material  and  figurative  senses,  is  found  to  be  faith- 
fully continued  in  the  Gospels. 

The  almost  invariable  word  used  in  the  Gospels  is  iifSaKui; ; 
in  two  pa-ssages  (Mt  20-'U,  Mk  S-3)  i«.K«  is  found,  but  used  only 
in  the  plural.  The  difference  in  meaning  between  the  two 
would  appear  to  be  that  i^uec  refers  to  the  material  organ  as 
distinct  from  its  function,  while  o^ftocKiAK  is  not  only  the  vehicle 
of  vision  but  that  which  sees.*  The  most  usual  verb  used  in 
connexion  with  the  eves  is  ISxi-ru  (e.g.  Mt  73,  Lk  C^i),  with  its 
compounds  ^«^iiT«  (Mk  S^S)  and  i.«».T»,  (Mt  20M,  Jn  9'=)  ; 
more  rarely  we  find  i/>iu  (Mt  1315,  li,  <yM  loia,  jn  12-")  and 
»!«»K«i  (Jn  435  ft'i).  A  fairly  frequent  phrase  is  that  of  'lifting 
up  (iT«,p<j)  the  eyes,'  t  e.g.  Mt  178,  Lk  \&->  IS'-',  Jn  435  ;  jn  every 
case  in  which  the  eyes  of  Christ  are  mentioned  this  word  is  used 
(Lk  620,  Jn  65  1141  171). 

The  word  'eye'  is  used— 1.  In  the  ordinary, 
literal  sense:  as  illustrating  tlie  Ir.r.  talionis,  Mt 
5^  ;  J  of  the  eyes  being  heavy  with  sleep,  Mk  14-'" ; 
of  the  multitude  fi.xing  their'eyes  on  Christ,  Lk  4''^" ; 
especially  of  Christ  giving  sight  to  the  eyes  of  the 
blind,  §  e.g.  Mt  9=»-  *"20»- «,  Mk  8=3,  Jn  9».  2.  In  a 
literal  sense,  but  with  a  fiijurative  sense  implied  : 
6.17.  the  words  of  Simeon,  '  IVIine  eyes  have  seen  thy 
salvation'  (Lk  2'"),  where  there  is  ]iriniarily  the 
literal  looking  down  upon  the  balje  before  hin'i,  but 
also,  by  implication,  tlie  mental  vision  of  God's 
salvation  of  which  the  visible  child  was  the  pledge  ; 
again,  in  the  words,  '  Blessed  are  your  eyes,  for 
they  see  .  .  .'  (Mt  13'*',  see  also  Lk  10-»),  wiiere  we 
have  both  the  literal  seeing  of  Christ  and  the  see- 
ing, in  the  sense  of  understanding.  His  teaching ; 
further,  a  striking  instance  is  contained  in  Lk  24^', 

•  Perhaps  somewhat  in  the  same  way  that  one  can  differenti- 
ate between  a  nmsical  instrumeTit  and  the  music  it  gives  forth. 

t  It  occurs  very  rarely  outside  of  Lk.,  Jn.,  and  Acts. 

X  Cf.  in  this  connexion  the  Code  of  Uammurabi,  §  196,  '  If  a 
man  has  caused  the  loss  of  a  gentleman  s  eye,  his  eve  one  shall 
cause  to  he  lost '  (see  Johns'  The  Otdesi  Code  of  Laws,  p.  43). 

S  Regarding  methods  of  curing  blindness  see  Encyc.  Bibl. 


where  it  is  said  of  the  two  disciples  to  whom  Christ, 
after  His  resurrection,  became  known  by  the  break- 
ing of  Incad,  that '  their  eyes  were  opened,  and  they 
knew  him.'  There  appears  here  (however  it  may 
be  accounted  for)  an  extraordinarily  close  connexion 
or  correspondence  between  weakness  in  the  bodily 
and  the  mental  vision,  for  it  is  certain  that  their 
eyes  were  open,  in  the  ordinary  sense,  before  they 
recognized  Christ.  Another  example  is  that  in  Jn 
4^=  '  Lift  up  your  eyes  and  look  on  the  fields,  that 
they  are  white  already  unto  harvest.'  What  the 
bodily  eye  saw  here  w.as  evidently  intended  by 
Christ  to  be  a  symbol  of  the  great  work  of  evan- 
gelization which  He  desired  the  mental  vision  of 
the  disciples  to  discern.  Under  this  head  would 
come  also  Mt  S^  '  If  thy  right  eye  causeth  thee  to 
stumble,  cut  it  out  and  cast  it  from  thee.'  From 
the  context  the  'eye'  is  clearly  used  here  in  a 
material  sense,  while  the  'cut  it  out'  is  equally 
clearly  used  in  a  ligurative  sense  (cf.  Mt  19'^). 

3.  In  a  purely  frfurative  sense  it  is  found  in  Mt 
T'-"  and  Lk  6^'-  ■*-  (the  mote  in  the  brother's  eye) ; 
also  in  Mt  6=-  "-'',  Lk  11"  ('The  lamp  of  the  body  is 
the  eye '),  where  the  eye  is  spoken  of  as  reflecting 
the  spiritual  condition  of  the  heart,  though  even 
here  it  is  possible  that  the  thought  of  the  expression 
of  the  material  eyes  may  also  have  been  in  Christ's 
mind.  A"ain,  in  Mt  20'"  '  Is  thine  eye  evil  because 
I  am  jjood  ? '  the  eye  is  used  figuratively  to  express 
an  attitude  of  envy  (see  below).  Lastly,  it  must 
obviously  have  been  used  in  a  purely  figurative 
sense  in  Lk  16=^  '  In  Hades  he  lifted  up  his 
eyes  .  .  .' 

i.  There  remains  the  strange  expression  '  evil 
eye'  {6<pea\iibs  ■n-onripds,  Mk  7"-).  The  meaning  of 
this  no  doubt  approximates  to  that  of  the  similar 
expression  in  Mt  6^  20'^  and,  generally  speaking, 
denotes  envy;*  but  it  also  implied  demoniacal 
possession  [see  Demon,  iii.  (i)],t  and  the  'evil' 
referred  not  only  to  the  possessed  himself,  but  also 
to  the  harm  wliich  might  be  done  to  others  who 
came  under  the  influence  of  the  'evil  eye.' J 

W.  O   E.  Oesterley.     • 

EYE-WITNESSES  [aMirrat,  Lk  r-  ;  cf.  Mirrai 
in  2  P  1'^).— We  have  the  assurance  of  the  Third 
Evangelist  that  the  Gospels  are  founded  not  upon 
second-hand  reports,  but  upon  the  direct  testimony 
of  those  wlio  were  present.  Similarly  in  Jn  19^ 
2P*  (where  the  words  ixaprvptiv  and  jiaprvpia  are 
used),  the  record  of  the  Fourth  Gospel  is  certified 
to  be  reliable.  (See  Liyhtfoot  on  '  The  Intemal 
Evidence  for  the  Genuineness  of  the  Gospel  of 
John,'  in  the  Expositor  for  Jan.-Mar.  1890,  pp.  1, 
81,  176 ;  and  cf.  art.  GoSPELS).         T.  GREGORY. 


FABLE.— See  Parable.  [  sonal  charm,  and  a  powerful  influence  for  good  or 

}  evil.     The  underlying  thought  is  that  a  noble  and 

FACE.— Of  the  words  tr.  'face,'  'countenance,'  1  beautiful  face  should  be  the  index  of  a  noble  and 
the  Heb.  panim  indicates  the  front,  that  which  is  I  beautiful  spirit.  There  is  a  resemblance  among 
presented  to  view,  while  mar  eh  and  the  NT  terms  |  the  children  of  a  king  (Jg  S'S).  Along  with  this 
TpoauTvov,  oi/-!!,  and  iviinnoi'  correspond  to  view,  \  recognii;ion  there  are  intimations  that  the  Lord 
visage,  that  which  can  be  seen.  j  .seeth  not  as  man  seeth  (1  S  16'),  and  that  beauty  is 

1.  Physical  appearance.  —  Beautj;  of  face  is  vain  (Pr  31™).  In  the  mysterious  personality  out- 
frequently  alluded  to  in  the  Bible  in  connexion  lined  in  Is  53  one  of  the  arresting  features  is  the 
with  both  men  and  women  as  a  distinguishing  per-  I  absence  of  such  beauty  in  a  face  singularly  marred, 

VOL.  I.-36 


562 


FACT  AND  THEORY 


FACT  AND  THEORY 


and  according  to  coiiiraon  standards  confessedly  un- 
attractive. WMle  there  is  a  dark  type  of  comeli- 
ness (Ca  P),  yet,  as  might  be  expected  among  a 
people  accustomed  to  ohve  and  sunburnt  tones  of 
complexion,  it  is  the  exceptional  characteristic  of  a 
fair  and  lustrous  face  that  marks  the  highest  form 
of  beauty.  In  the  jjoetry  of  the  Arabs,  when 
beauty  of  face  is  referred  to,  the  usual  and  ever- 
sufficient  .simile  is  that  of  the  f\ill  moon  (6'"),  and 
in  the  descriptions  of  Paradise  in  the  Koran  the 
female  attendants  of  the  'faithful'  are  called 
houris,  '  the  white-faced  ones.'  The  illumination 
on  the  face  of  Moses  is  still  recalled  in  the  Jewish 
synagogue  when  the  officiating  Levite,  in  pronounc- 
ing the  benediction  (Nu  6'-")  at  the  close  of  the  ser- 
vice, veils  his  face  with  the  tallith,  or  prayer-cloth. 
Similarly  in  the  sacred  art  of  the  Church,  the 
Transfiguration  light  on  the  face  of  Christ  was  per- 
petuated in  the  halo  around  the  faces  of  the  saints 
who  suffered  as  His  witnesses.  In  2  Co  4*  the  con- 
summation of  the  gospel  is  described  as  the  hope 
of  beholding  and  sharing  the  manifestation  of  God's 
glory  as  it  had  been  seen  in  the  face  of  Jesus  Christ. 

2.  In  the  expression  of  character  and  feelinq. — 
Although  the  face  was  understood  to  be  only  a 
medium  or  channel  for  the  manifestation  of  inward 
thought  and  emotion,  a  more  vivid  impre.ssion  was 
often  gained  by  alluding  to  it  as  having  the  essen- 
tials of  personality.  Thus  it  has  its  own  health 
(Ps  42^'),  it  produces  gladness  in  others  (21*,  Ac 
2=«),  and  pronounces  rebuke  (Ps  80'«),  it  falls  (Gn 
4«),  is  lifted  up  (Ps  4«),  emits  light  (44').  All  emo- 
tions are  marked  upon  it :  it  is  impudent  (Pr  7"). 
harder  than  a  rock  (Jer  5'),  and  may  be  a  face  of 
fury  (Ezk  3»\  In  Lk  l^-^  the  face  of  the  sky  is 
referred  to  as  conveying  to  those  who  could  read 
it  a  sign  of  its  intentions.  The  face  being  thus 
closely  identified  with  the  per.son,  any  violence 
ofiered  to  the  face  was  in  flip  liiirhest  degree 
affronting  (1  S  IP,  2S  IU^  ,Mi  jr.-i  \~  tlie  ex- 
pression of  the  face  was  regardir  I  ,is  .1  iiii-tworthy 
indication  of  the  life  within,  iln  I'lini-^'^  culti- 
vated an  aspect  of  religious  uli-ni  |,i  i,,ii  ;  ,nnl  ( 'liri.st 
showed  that  the  thought  Iit-hiihl  tlii-  .|i\ii-e  was 
essentially  blind  and  irreliginu-.  iii.i-iim  h  as  the 
true  sei"vice  of  the  Kingdom  reciuire'l  the  spirit  of 
the  Beatitudes  (6").  As  the  emblem  of  [lerfected 
sainthood  and  ordered  harmony,  the  Church  in  its 
final  form  is  represented  as  having  the  beauty  of  a 
face  without  spot  or  wrinkle  or  any  such  thin" 
(Eph  S^). 

The  figure  of  the  averted  or  hidden  face  (Dt  31", 
Is  53')  that  declines  to  meet  the  look  of  supplica- 
tion, owes  its  origin  to  the  fact  that  Orientals  are 
largely  swayed  by  the  strongest  feeling  of  the 
moment,  and  can  be  moved  from  their  previous 
purpose  by  well  directed  emotional  apjieals.  When 
one  man  is  .seeking  to  appease  or  persuade  another, 
it  is  customary,  when  the  right  moment  has  been 
reached,  to  put  the  hand  quietly  and  tentatively 
under  the  chin,  and  thus  turn  the  face  so  that  eye 
may  meet  eye,  and  more  kindly  feelings  prevail. 
Not  to  see  the  face  at  all  is  to  intercept  such  emo- 
tional persuasion  of  prostration,  pleading,  and 
tears,  and  means  that  all  hope  must  be  abandoned. 
G.  M.  Mackie. 

FACT  AND  THEORY.-  Christianity  is  a  religion 
which  comes  to  man  from  God.  It  has  to  do  \v\t\\ 
man's  relation  to  God,  and  with  God's  will  for  man. 
Any  knowledge,  therefore,  of  the  nature  of  Christi- 
anity depends  upon  revelation.  This  would  still 
1)6  true  apart  from  the  fact  of  sin  and  the  fact 
that  Christianity  is  a  religion  of  rc(lcin]ition.  For 
God  is  a  personal  Spirit ;  ami  tin- only  way  liy  \\  Iiicli 
we  can  know  even  the  linitc  |..i-,,ii  :ili,,ui  ,,  j, 
through  their  revealin;.'  tlii-in-i-h  .■-  i..  u-.  Wli.n. 
further,  we  bear  in  mind  thi;  tnilli  that  (lod  i-  ;iii 
infinite  Spirit,  and  that  wc   men   arc  finite,  it  at 


once  becomes  obvious  that  all  knowledge  of  God  ii* 
well  as  of  His  plan  or  purpose  must  rest  upon  a 
revelation  by  God.  This  revelation  may  be  general. 
Thus  the  creation  of  the  Universe  and  of  man,  with 
God's  image  in  his  heart  and  able  to  see  God  in 
the  work  of  His  hands,  is  to  be  regarded  as  an  act 
of  self -revelation  ou  the  jiart  of  God.  But  sin  is 
a  reality  in  this  universe,  and  the  noetic  effects  of 
sin  have  rendered  neces.sary  a  special  revelation  of 
the  holy  God  to  sinful  man.  Sin  has  not  only 
made  man  blind  to  spiritual  realities,  it  has  dis- 
torted the  purity  of  the  Divine  image  in  man's 
heart  and  in  nature.  Accordingly  special  revela- 
tion must  be  external,  consisting  in  supernatural 
acts  of  God  to  restore  the  image  of  God,  and  must 
also  consist  in  a  supernatural  word-revelation  or 
communication  of  knowledge  to  explain  the  mean- 
ing of  these  acts.  Special  revelation,  then,  being 
soteriological,  accompanies  the  redemptive  activity 
of  God.  This  Divine  redemptive  activity  is  his- 
torical, and  has  entered  this  world  of  time  and 
space.  This  was  necessary,  because  ^iii,  the  elicits 
of  which  the  redemptive  activity  was  to  counterait, 
is  a  historical  force  at  work  in  the  w  orld.  Since, 
therefore,  special  revelation  accompanies  God's 
redemptive  acts,  it  too  is  historical,  taking  place 
under  the  category  of  time.  Hence  we  have,  first 
of  all,  God's  redeeming  acts,  culminating  in  the 
Incarnation,  Death,  and  Kesurrection  of  Jesus 
Christ.  These  redemptive  acts  are  also  revealing 
acts.  Thus  God's  Son  came  into  this  world  in  the 
flesh  in  order  to  save  sinners,  as  St.  Paul  tells  us 
(1  Ti  1").  But  His  incarnation  is  also  a  revelation 
ol  God,  as  we  learn  from  the  prologue  to  St.  John's 
Gospel.  But  we  have  also  a  word-revelation 
accompanying  the  Divine  redemptive  facts  or  acts, 
and  giving  us  their  meaning.  Indeed,  that  which 
rendered  necessary  the  fact-revelation,  viz.  the 
noetic  effects  of  sin,  also  makes  necessary  an 
authoritative  word-revelation  to  explain  to  us  the 
meaning  of  those  acts.  Christianity,  therefore, 
consists  in  facts  which  have  a  meaning,  or  in  the 
meaning  of  the  facts,  whichever  way  we  choose 
to  put  it.  Take  away  either  the  facts  or  their 
authoritative  interpretation,  and  we  have  no  Chris- 
tianitj'  left.  The  mere  external  facts  apart  from 
their  meaning  are,  of  course,  meaningless,  and 
therefore  do  not  constitute  Christianity ;  while  the 
abandonment  of  the  facts  no  le.ss  destroys  the 
Christian  religion,  reducing  it  to  a  mere  natural 
religion,  or  religious  philosophy.  Neither  can  the 
abandonment  of  the  facts  be  justified  because  of 
the  co-ordination  of  revelation  and  redemption, 
and  of  the  historical  character  of  the  latter,  to 
whirh  ANc  have  alrca.ly  alluded. 

This  i-  llir  c  unrij.ti.Mi  of  revelation  which  the 
Scriiitnir  V  litris  tlic'i.is,.|ves  give  us.  They  claim 
that  they  were  spukcn  to  by  God,  and  not  merely 
that  they  had  their  religious  intuition  aroused  by 
the  facts  of  God's  revelation.  Hence  their  inter- 
pretation of  the  meaning  of  the  great  facts  of 
Christianity,  according  to  their  own  account  of  the 
matter,  is  not  mere  human  reflexion  upon  the 
facts.  If,  therefore,  we  reject  their  interpretation 
of  the  facts  as  itself  immediately  from  God,  and 
therefore  authoritative,  we  shall  not  be  able  to 
trust  them  for  the  occunence  of  the  supernatural 
facts,  and  shall  be  driven  logically  to  deny  the 
immediacjr  and  supernatural  character  of^  the 
Di^^ne  activity  in  the  facts  themselves.  The  mean- 
ing of  the  term  '  revelation '  will  have  been  changed. 
It  will  no  longer  signify  the  comnmnieation  of  truth 
by  God's  acts  and  w onl's,"  it  will  <lesign.ate  .a  i)roduct 

•  111  ^jMiikitiL'  ol  \sortl-revelatiori,  we  are  not  confounding 
II  K..|:,ii,,ii  ;uiil  in^pinttion  ;  the  former  denotini;  the  Divine 
-iij'enifitural  (oiumunication  of  truth  to  the  Scripture  writer, 
th''  latter  the  l)i\iiie  influence  accompanying  its  record.  The 
term  'word-revelation'  is  meant  to  denote  especially  the  com- 


FACT  AND  THEOEY 


FACT  AND  THEOEY 


563 


)f  tlie  religious  life  of  man.     This  dues  <a\vay  \\'itli  I 


truth  caiiie  tu  them.  The  questiuu,  tiieielure, 
really  resolves  itself  into  that  of  the  trustworthiness 
of  Christ  and  His  Apostles  as  teachers  of  doctrine. 
The  evidence  for  their  trustworthiness  is  just  the 

I  evidence  for  Christianity  as  a  suiiernatui-al  relij,'ion, 

which,  of  course,  takes  \js  t.ir  lnvdinl  thr  limits  i,f 
:  this  article  (cf.  Warhelil,  .nt.  ■■'l\<-  i;.,il   rn.l,l<.m 

I  of  Inspiration' in  P;r.5'.  "//(/ 7,'./'.  /,■■(■.  i\.  ]..  177  f.). 

But  if  we  accept  their  autlionty  (i-  w  i\".  rr,liiiL;' 
it  on  the  above  mentioned  evideiiiri.  ili.n  ('lnisii- 
anity  consists  in  certain  great  fait^,  aii.l  in  lln'  tnir 
meaningoftho.se  facts.  The  mc^uiin;:  <■!  :i  fai-t  is 
its  meaning  for  a  mind.  By  thiir  iiu  ■  nir;iiiiiiL;, 
of  course,  is  meant  their  meaniiiu  i^i  '■'•<l.  Tliis 
meaning,  therefore.  He  must  autlioi  ii.ii  i\  ^In  make 
known  to  us  if  we  are  to  have  any  (  In  i-l  ianiiy. 

In  the  first  place,  then,  to  attempt  tu  hoi. I  in  tlie 
great  supernatural  facts  of  Christianity  .and  tu  ,L;ive 
up  their  nieaniufj-,  is  not  only  impossilili',  l)ut,  were 
it  possible,  would  result  in  takiii-  Inmi  tlie  facts 
just  that  which  makes  them  Cliiisliau  facts,  and 
which  makes  them  constitutiM'  of  (he  essence  of 
Christianity.  There  has  liuun  .lu  .attempt  to  dis- 
tinguish between  the  facts  of  Christ's  life  as  the 
permanent  Divine  element  in  Christianity  and 
'  theories '  as  relative,  human,  and  changing.  This 
general  tendency  to  separate  between  fact  and 
theory  in  Christianity  has  assumed  two  forms  :  on 
the  one  hand,  it  is  said  that  the  Bible  contains  no 
explanation  of  the  great  facts  of  Christianity  ; 
on  the  other  hand,  it  is  ,admitte<l  that  the  BiVile 
does  contain  an  explanatimi  of  tlii>  fa.ts  ;  but.  while 
a  special  revelation  in  a  siiic-  of  -u|.ri  nal  mal  a.ts 
of  God  is  recognized,  a  spi'rial  w  .n.l  iv\  rialion 
is  denied,  and  the  wIkjIl-  iloiliiual  lonirnt  of 
Christianity  as  contained  in  the  BiljJe  is  reduced 
practically  to  human  reflexion   upon  the  acts  of 

In  the  former  position,  it  is  said  tliat  Christianity 
consists  in  facts,  not  in  doctrines.  We  have  in  the 
Bible  the  fact  of  Christ,  but  no  theory  as  to  His 
person.  We  have  the  fact  of  the  Atonement,  but 
no  theory  or  doctrine  of  its  meaning. 


The  Atoneinent  mid  Modern  Rt'li'jious  Tlinihilit.  I'XH).  For  ex- 
ample, Farrar  maintains  that  anv  aU'.'iM|>l  !m  i.xiilaiii  tin- 
nature  of  the  Atonement  is  a 'futile'en.l..i>  i'  I.I"  .11  i  ili.ii. 
what  is  written,  and  to  translate  the  laii-i'  .  .     i, 

that  of  rigid  scholasticism.'    So  also  11.  I     il 
on  the  Atonement  in  a  volume  entitle  1  / 

1893,  says  that  the  NT  contains  no  tliror-   -.i  M m.  in 

(Horton  has  given  up  this  position  in  his  <'ssa\-  on  the  ^:aIn(■ 
subject  in  the  same  volume  with  Farrar's  essay).  A  similar 
position  seems  to  have  been  maintained  bv  Astie,  who  is  quoted 
by  H.  Bois  in  De  la  Connaissance  Reltiiietise,  p.  342 ;  ct.  War- 
field,  The  Rirfht  nf  Systematic  Theolnjij,  p.  3n. 

In  regard  to  this  position  we  should  note,  first  of 
all,  that  'bare  facts,'  i.e.  meaningless  facts,  are 
impossible,  for  every  fact  has  a  meaninfj  whether 
we  know  it  or  not.  And  still  further,  a  'bare  fact ' 
ere  is  no  atonemen 
death,  and  no  Chris 
tianity  in  the  events  of  His  life  regarded  as  '  bare 
facts.'  If  we  clearly  understand  that  a  '  bare  fact ' 
is  simply  an  event  in  the  external  world  appre- 
hended by  the  senses,  or  a  subjective  fact  of  some 
self-consciousness,  then  it  may  be  the  statement 
of  a  '  bare  fact'  to  say  that  a  man  called  Jesus  was 
born  some  1900  years  ago,  but  we  are  not  to  say 
that  He  was  God's  Son  made  flesh  for  our  salvation  ; 
we  can  say  that  He  died  un  tlir  cross  willioiU 
going  beyond  '  li.aic  fact,' or  cNiai  ihii   ll-<.\|iiv   -rd 


rtain  feelings,  but  we  cannot  say  so  much  as  that 
He  dicil  fur  our  sin.  It  i>  not  iirrc~^ary  to  salvation 
tliat  \\y  slimil.l  Know  tla'  full  aial  1 1  iic  meaning  of 
(_'liiist's  .l.'ath:   «■(■  arc  iioi    s|jcakiijc,    however,  of 

Christi.inil y.  Ami  tin-  lic,^  in  the  meaning  of  the 
great  icilmiiii  i\  .■  fa.  is  of  ih,.  Christian  religion,  or 
in  till'  fai  Is  li.'.au-i-  ..f  their  meaning.  We  may 
conceive  sonic-  lalse  nieaniug  of  the.se  facts,  but 
like  all  facts  they  must  have  some  meaning,  and 
their  true  meaning  is  their  meaning  for  God. 
Hence,  as  was  said,  if  we  are  to  know  their  true 
meaning,  God  must  tell  it  t(j  us.  If,  therefore,  we 
were  simply  to  Iml.l  t.i  th.i  facts  uf  Christ's  life 
i-onsidcreil  as  'hari'  fads,'  wc  .should  have  taken 
away  from  tlicm  that  whi.-li  makes  them  Christian 
facts  and  reilemptive  facts.  In  short,  this  method 
of  treating  the  facts  of  Christianity  takes  from 
them  all  that  makes  them  constitutive  of  the 
essence  of  Christianity.* 

We  should  observe,  next,  that  the  modes  of 
statement  of  all  those  who  hold  this  position  suggest 
the  impossibility  of  holding  to  '  bare  facts.'  They 
speak  constantly  of  the  '  fact  of  the  Atonement.' 
But  this  is  quite  ambiguous.  If  it  means  that  the 
atonement  is  real,  then  it  is  a  true  statement,  but 
a  statement  which  involves  a  theory  or  interpreta- 
tion of  the  fact  of  Christ's  death  as  atoning  for  sin. 
But,  taken  as  they  appear  to  mean  it,  the  statement 
involves  an  error,  'we  may  speak  of  the  fact  of 
Christ's  death,  but  in  this  as  a  '  bare  fact '  there  is 
no  atonement.  As  soon  as  we  call  it  an  atonement 
^^■e  have  interpreted  it  by  a  theory.  So,  when 
P'arrar  says  it  is  a  'landmark  of  the  death  of 
C'hrist,'  that  it  is  'not  only  the  declaration,  but 
the  ground  of  pardon,'  he  has  gone  a  long  way 
toward  understanding  its  meaning,  and,  according 
to  his  position,  has  made  the  mistake  of  '  translat- 
ing the  language  of  emotion  into  the  rigidity  of 
syllogisms.'  And  this  same  ambiguity  often  at- 
taches to  the  language  of  those  who  do  not  hold 
this  position.  Thus  the  late  Dr.  Dale,  in  his  book 
on  the  Atonement,  first  seeks  to  establish  its  fact 
and  secondly  its  theory.  In  reality,  however,  the 
first  part  of  his  book  contains  more  general,  and 
the  latter  part  more  specific,  statements  of  the  doc- 
trine or  theory.  Precisely  the  same  ambiguity  i.s 
.seen  in  the  article  'The  Fact  of  the  Atonement,' 
by  K.  Mackintosh  (Expos.  Times,  May  1903),  who 
speaks  of  the  '  fact  of  Christ's  death '  and  the  '  fact 
of  tlie  Atonement'  as  equivalent  terms,  and  again 
of  I  he  'fact  that  Christ  died  for  our  sins,'  which 
I  a  I  cment,  of  course,  contains  a  doctrine. 
Hut  we  must  observe,  finally,  that  it  is  not  sufti- 
liciit  to  show  the  necessity  of  an  interpretation 
of  the  facts  of  Christianity.  The  question  of  an 
external  authority  in  religious  knowledge  cannot 
be  evaded  by  saying  that  the  Bible  contains 
no  explanation  of  these  great  facts.  Whatever 
may  be  said  as  to  the  authority  of  Scripture, 
it  is  evident  that  the  Bible  does  contain  an  inter- 
pretation of  the  great  facts  of  Christ's  life.     And 


whatever  interpretat 
of  Christ  and  His  A|i. 
had  definite  iil.:i~  .a-  t 
how  He  came  int..  tlii 
what  His  death  mean: 
stances,  and  those  only 


the  language 

1.-'  it  i^  plain  that  they 
\li..  (Ill  1-1  was,  W'hy  and 
na.il.l,  N\liy  He  died,  and 
To  take  only  a  few  in- 
regard  to  one  fact,  viz. 


Christ's  death,  it  is  scarcely  a  matter  for  dispute 
that,  when  He  speaks  of  giving  His  life  '  a  ransom 
in  the  place  of  many '  (Mk  10•'^  Mt  20=«),  or  of  His 
blood  as  Covenant-blood  '  shed  for  many  unto  the 
remission  of  sins'  {Mt  26°*),  He  intended  to  con\-ey 


•FACT  AKD  THKOKY 


^ 


a  definite  vie.v  as  to  ^J^^^^^^l^^n. 
The  same  thing  ':°'^1^\7„'''}^  "persoS  and  Work. 
Lord's  statement'VmUne  le  ters  are  occupied  to  a 
The  whole  of  t  e  P^^l^^^^'^tation  of  the  facts  of 
large  extent  ^vith  th?  i"t<ill''  ,  ^  Resurrection, 
our^  Lord's  I"«f:"f,;"„"'t„°::ert  that  the  NT  con- 

^^^^tl'S^e^^-thei'ir'r^*''^ 

authority  of.  tiino'^'^autS,  IndstiU  insist 

nizeasupernatiua    re^elaton  in        ^^j  ^^^^^^^  ^^ 
but  who  reduce  the  ^^l  ole  -^"^^g^y     j^  i^man 
Christianity,  ^^f  "^amed  in  the  W> 
reflexion  upon  these  fa.cts  (see  Kotn  , 

fact,  IS,  to  diue  u  p  ,ii,ancloninc;  the  principle  of 
in  i.li"i>m.  But  rational  truth 
niiciit  r.re  not  Christianity.  If 
„>  rliii-tian  religion,  we  must 
ni,  111  Muril  fnrt-i  of  Christianity 
-'tivc  iiiiriiii"t:ition  of  them. 
\,.,v  irNrliiiini,  i-  ouly  a  product 


p.  30«.).    Lessing.also  |- "tte^ance  t.  his  fa^^^^^^^^  ^^-g^that 

*  accidental  histoncal  truths  ^i,"  "^  .  j„  regard  all  of  the 
•eternalrationaltruths'    And  he^eemed  to  ^^^  ^^^ 

historical  element  in  Chnst  amtj  ^    ace  ,        ^^     j^  ^^^ 

kernel  of  Christianrty  was  ]ust  m  .ona^^  ^ 

same  way  Kant  (Vic  KtUg-  "",, "fV,  ._  the  abiding  kernel  of 
r°™«U«)  ™°!l'?"'',^,TcS4  ^he  held.  C  dlthed  this 
::itiralc?:«on?wS'^l»°»™SS'represent.tions  o.  eternal 

truth.    Ficht«  '    '" 


f^S'^aU"^^SSV^;r:KforeIer;nal 
,„,h.    Fich.h^MytheSe^^^g^^^^.^'^^; 

relipous  philosophy  and  de^trojed  for  rt  IS  .^^^  ^^^^  ^^„  „, 
human  reflexion.  *"■  oif/Hwel  hut  with  much  the  same 
history  is  seen '"  .Sf5^"gp='"?JS;  is  concerned,  because  pt 
residtso  fii'-^  ''l^rh?rtSin?tfon  between  kernel  and  husk 
their  adherence  to  the  distmction^  .empirical- 

History  is  regarded  t^  *^°'/?j'^s  ^ffe  in  the  finite  spmt. 
ijLn^feeltto^y'o'j^cSHSi^  n^,  important^a.* 

^j^^^^^SP'''''"- " '""  "^ '""' 

strued  upon  a  pantheiziiiK  na   »  Neo-Hegelian  construe 

In  England,  T.  H.  Green  has  fc'iv  en  a  1       ,._»,,„»„    „„^    ,,h. 


Englana,  i.  i'-  "'"r:' h"  .snhor'dinates'  its^'facts   and   the 
of    Christianity  which   ?^'™'^'j^™i%hilosophica^   theory 


.  pp- 


[o  "ive  ui>  ""•:  authority 
dination  of  the  facts  of 
in  the  Eibhrrt  Journal, 


This  is 
extern;' 
and  rel 


;  the 


liavi 

and 

Whereas 

of  the  rejiy'i;''-  l;'^'  ''Y'';;,;',;i,t         position  opposite 

of  Christianity,  suborrtmating  them  to  a  p^ely 

iinl  the  'ke°mel' of  eternal  truths  of  reason. 
This  question  of  the^importance  ««  the  historical,  elementjn 

with  historic  facts 

ling  historic  certitude 

held,  could  not 

The  objection 


C,^S?w^"-=iptheJ^^^^f;,I^F>-,„,, 


was  not,  as  more  recently,  that  of  -j 

The  clearest,  most  ""disputed  fa^  ^.^^  ,.,.j_„.„.. 

support  or  be  the  content  of  f^""^"™  j^^'eal  one.    Hence  all 

was  therefore  a  ™^"I'"\'''^,';S\,  i,„t  outward  expressions  of 

•■■    ;  religions  \vel_    i.Lnmcn  .i.  ^^  ^^^   position    of    the 

and,  Gcich.  der  PhU. 

t  qiint«d  show  Pauline 


they  are  v- 

idea  thai  li 

isadmitteil  I'V  i""i  "'  '" 
Evangelist  (see  Uemicy,  J' 


■"''-'-''-  ^'^"hT'noraluerat^Te^t^  tie  historic 
..„..  ^-  Christiani  y,  but  "°  i^^'^fg  e\emphfied.  This,  it  goes 
Christ  apart  from  the  Kteaw  men       ^^^  ^^^  Christianity     The 

without  saying,  is  ^^?o■-7,f'^"h,,  ^  historic  element  in  its  con- 
claim,  also,  that  faith  wiichl^a^  a  mstor.^  ^_^.^^,  .^  j^^  ^^,,^3 

tent  is  therefore  i'S>  '■»"'"'"-^."  •.;,  ,„,,,:  i,^,..-  a  historical  elciiifiit 
of  adead  f:"tl..  ■- -I"    ";'■:  ';,,i,'-i     .■  ^  ■'■■-  i-^^ '^^''^  ■]['-'''■" 

charactfr  ;i~  ''"'•■        ' '  '  ,  -  '    .    i-       '    ■". 

philosopllj    -'  '     !•■     :  l',,n,.l     I  i"    '  '..','/     ■    '■'    '  "-' 

the  Theol.  !:■       ■'■<-'  i"    ■  ''  "      ' 

Experit'yic,;ix't-^):       ,  vT  .-nticisiv  tli-  "  ;' 

From  the  standpoint  ot  ^  i  '-'.'^"'  5- :' '  . , 
•  TOc  Resurrection  and  Ascension  >arr.  ■ 

^^-■sS'^i^SSSi: ■■^  ^^^  r^ 

r  wSS|or^^i5h^-r-'^ '''^"'•- "^^ 

"°|h''e"e^,?C%'^u!rnrtS;s\'e-ndei,cy^ 

of  Scripture,  and  the- •■"nv.4"'"    '^       ,  ,„„„:„,„ ., 

Christianily  tna  tU     '  .     ,,,.,  ^^^  of  Experience, 

.Ian.  19ns.  I  "'!""'      '  ;  ,r'  to  the  author,  the 

hy  \V.  A.  I'l.  kii^l  '  Mrntification  of  Jesus 

fundamental  ni'i  ^^^^_^^^  ^.j^h  whom  is  the 

Christ  \yitli  the  ^1"'  .,_„,„  „.irc  confronted  with  a  per- 

-'&'sChSi-tl?e;na:rSi.ed-byenlo«on. 

T     ^„;n„  awav  with  the  historical  element  m 

c,si:s  ,"£.«■>;•»  X  tri;rd:z 

of  Christianity. .  The  i-  "*"a"  ^f-  -^.^  revelation  of 
duct  of  human  ideas,  but  of  ^^ff^fi^ect  interfer- 
Gotl  to  men    accompanymg  God  s  cu  ^^^^^ 

ence  in  tl^f.^^'^Thist^ric  foixe  Thus,  ha^'ing 
are  left  ^^ith  a  nhUosophy  of  reU  'on.         ^^^^^^^^^ 

even  natural  religion  yam-   e  ^^^^^   admit  the 

type  of  religious  philo-'U'i'Y',^     |^^^^^,^^  frankly 

1  authority  of  the  Sw'l''^^>;^'^  ^    ,,^^  Christianity. 

1  admit  that  ^^If*,'^,,^' the  logical  result  of  the 
It  is,  however,  simply  uie  '  p  •  j  „f  external 
entire  abandonnient  o*.  *  ^,  l^'^'^^'P'"" 

I  ,,,th<,rity  inrehgio.iskno«lert^^e.^^^^^^^^^_^^^  ^^  ^^^^ 

i.M'— .  -r'  ''"'■"!'■!:■';., .:;,;■ ''r'.ucu  they  lay 


FACT  AND  THEOEY 


FACT  AND  THEOKY 


upon  the  historic  Christ, 

Shilosophersisnotiscj  mu 
egree,  i.e.  of  how  niu<li 
retain  as  kernel  and  hu' 
away  as  huslc.      This  i^ 


eterniined   largely   by 


their  philosophical  standpoint.  Hence  in  their 
case  also  there  is  a  subjection  of  Christian  fact 
and  doctrine  to  an  unauthoritative  theory.  That 
they  do  not  differ  so  much  in  principle  from  the  pre- 
ceding philosophical  solvent  of  Christianity  can  be 
seen  from  the  following  considerations.  Wherever 
the  principle  of  external  authority  is  given  up,  we 
are  sure  to  meet  with  the  same  distinction  between 
kernel  and  husk  in  reference  to  Scripture  fact  and 
doctrine.  And  whenever  this  takes  place,  the 
Scripture  idea  of  revelation  has  been  changed, 
revelation  being  simply  the  product  of  religious 
thoughts  and  feelings  in  the  mind  of  man.  This 
makes  it  the  product  of  natural  development,  and 
'  ■  '  it  to  the  laws  of  psychic  life.  Accordingly 
that,  while  these  theologians  ditt'er  from 
the  preceding  construction  of  Christianity  in  lay- 
ing greater  emphasis  upon  Christ  and  in  insisting 
that  the  essence  of  Christianity  lies  not  in  eternal 
truth  so  much  as  in  Christ  Himself  (see  esp.  Lip- 
sius,  op.  cit.),  they  nevertheless  regard  the  Scrip- 
ture facts  as  ScripturaUy  interpreted,  i.e.  botli  fact 
and  dogma,  as  but  the  '  sensuous  representation ' 
of  rational  religious  truth. 

Christ  is  probably  of  least  significance  in  the  theology  of 
Biedermann,  who  held  that  Jesus  is  simply  the  first  realization  of 
the  idea  of  Divine  Sonship(iJo/;T/wi((/:,  ii.  §81.'j).  Whereas  Lipsius, 
though  an  opponent  of  the  Ritschlian  school,  resembles  it  in  the 
emphasis  laid  upon  Christ.  Thus  in  the  essay  already  cited  he 
says  that  the  Christian  rehgion  is  historical,  and  that  the  eternal 
good  which  it  oflfere  is  bound  up  with  the  pereon  of  Christ. 
Christianity,  he  says,  consists  not  in  ideas  which  Christ  illus- 
trated, but  in  Christ  Himself.  But  Lipsius  distinguishes  be- 
tween kernel  and  husk,  and  between  some  facts  and  others. 
Thus  he  says  that  *  faith  has  to  do  not  with  single  historical 
facts  as  such,  but  with  their  religious  value,'  and  that '  there  are 
facts  about  whose  historicity  there  is  little  doubt,  and  which 
are  of  no  importance  for  our  religious  life,  and  there  are  others 
about  which  there  may  be  much  doubt,  and  yet,  as  sensuous 
representations  of  religious  truths,  they  are  of  the  greatest  value.' 
Obviously,  if  facts  about  whose  occurrence  there  is  doubt  are  of 
such  importance  as    'sensuous  representations'    of    religious 


Lipsius'  treatment  of  the  great  Christian  facts.  Thus  the  Cross 
is  '  the  symbol  of  the  eternal  truth  that  the  old  man  in  us  must 
die,  in  order  that  man  be  born  of  God'  (p.  138),  though  Lipsius 
does  recognize  in  Christ's  death  more  than  a  mere  symbol 
(p.  139).  At  the  same  time  the  all-important  thing  is  the  idea 
symbolized.  So  also  the  Resurrection  of  Christ  need  not  be 
true  in  its  literal  Scriptural  form,  but  at  the  same  time  it 
symbolizes  the  truth  of  the  entrance  of  Christ  into  the  heavenly 
world.  The  *  form  '  in  which  we  conceive  it  is  expresslv  said  to 
be  of  no  importance.  This  is  suHicient  to  show  the  complete 
subordination  of  Christian  fact  to  philosophic  theory  in  this 
movement.  But  not  only  are  the  great  facts  of  Christianity 
put  into  the  category  of  'husk.'  The  dogmatic  interpretation 
of  them  in  the  Scripture  is  also  regarded  as  the  external  hull 
or  symbol  of  rational  truth.  For,  unlike  the  Ritschlian  school, 
who  hold  that  the  Greek  influence  is  largely  later  than  the  NT 
writings,  the  lilieral  theology  carries  this  influence,  and  conse- 
quently the  critical  process  of  separating  the  kernel  of  truth 
from  its  husk,  back  into  the  NT.  Tims  Pfleiderer  (Glaubem-  u. 
SUtenlehre,  p.  4)  says  that  it  is  the  business  of  Dogmatics  to 
'work  over  critically'  the  Scripture  as  well  as  the  Church 
dogma  m  order  to  reach  its  abiding  truth.  The  Scripture 
doctrme  is  said  to  contain  a  'sensuous'  element  which  is  not 
rational  and  which  must  be  rationalized. 

It  is  evident  that  the  principle  of  external 
authority  in  religious  knowledge  having  been 
abandoned  by  this  school  also,  the  historic  facts 
of  Christianity  as  well  as  the  Scripture  interpreta- 
tion are  given  up.  Again,  facts  are  subordinated 
to  a  human  theory,  and  we  have  left  a  religious 
philosophy. 

The  subjection  of  the  Scripture  facts  and  doc- 
trines to  a  subjective  norm  has  taken  also  a  more 
my.stical  form.     This,  indeed,  is  a  natural  coiisp 

?|Uenci^  of  the  .-itti'miit  to  find  a  permanent  Ij^i-i- 
or  reli.^icius  know  Icilye  after  the  principle  of  iv 
ternal  .uuliniiiy  h;is  been  given  up.  For  lln- 
kernel  ot  riitiunal  truth  .seems  to  differ  with  each 


l,t  afin 


tliat  permanency 
vlii-1,  ImiuM  rliai.Mlrri/.-  ll,.>  .■.MMice  of  Christi- 
.■iiiii\,  rii.v-.- M.-riillril  ri(Mii:il  iiiiUis  are  tempor- 
;illy  (■unilitiiiiii-(l  jn-i  :i  <  arc  l\\r  Scripture  dogmas. 
To  hold  to  tlieiii,  therefore,  is  a  species  of  dogma- 
tism. Accordingly  it  is  natural  that  a  demand 
for  a  truly  undogmatic  Christianity  should  arise, 
seeking  to  be  rid  not  only  of  Scripture  doctrine, 
but  also  of  the  rational  element  into  which  it  had 
been  distilled. 

This  demand  was  made  by  Dreyer  in  his  Undogmatisches 
Clinstentuw,  the  first  edition  of  which  appeared  in  1888. 
Coming  from  the  camp  ot  the  liberals,  Dreyer  directed  his 
polemic  against  '  liberalism '  and  '  orthodoxy '  alike.  The  liberal 
theology  fails  to  satisfy  the  demands  of  the  'pious  heart,'  while 
orthodox  dogma  is  in  conflict  with  modern  culture.  We  are 
therefore  bidden  to  turn  from  dogma  to  the  life  of  faith. 
Christianity  is  a  life,  not  a  series  of  facts  or  doctrines.  Dogma 
is  religious  experience  put  into  the  form  of  concepts  (p.  77).  It 
is  therefore  put  into  a  form  of  relative  validity,  and  one  that 
is  continually  changing.  When  these  concepts  are  no  longer 
valid,  they  no  longer  serve  to  express  religious  life,  and  must 
be  rejected.  The  facts  of  Christia)iity  fare  no  better  at  Dreyer's 
hands.  He  will  not  allow  our  idea  of  liistorv  to  be  governed  by 
any  dogmatic  supernaturalisni,  and  consequently,  at  the  de- 
mand of  an  equally  dogmatic  anti-supernaturalism,  he  tells  us 
the  '  myth-forming  process '  is  seen  in  the  Gospel  record  of  the 
life  of  Chi-ist.  Although  something  of  e-xternal  fact  may  remain, 
we  can  find  no  religious  certitude  in  any  historic  fact,  and  are 
told  to  fall  back  on  Christ's  holy  character,  which  is  exalted 
above  all  the  changes  of  theological  science  and  historical  criti- 
cism. This  arouses  life  in  us,  and  this  life  is  the  essence  of 
Christianity,  which  is  a  life,  not  fact  or  doctrine.*  A  some- 
what similar  position  has  been  taken  in  Prance  by  A.  Sabatier.t 
His  idea  is  that  religion  is  life,  not  doctrine.  External  autho- 
ty,  whether  of  Scripture  or  the  Church,  kills  religion.    The 

'--'  'hing  in  religion  is  life.     But  this  life  must  express 

ardlyinin  ■*    "  '         '    '      ~ ' 

Is  of  ( 
of  other  religions  because  the  life  is  higher. 
Christianity,  therefore,  is  neither  a  series  of  facts  nor  a  sum  of 
dogmas,  but  a  spiritual  life. 

We  have  not  space  to  show  the  inconsistency  of 
Dreyer's  supposed  escape  from  historical  criticism, 
when  he  falls  back  on  the  inner  life  of  Jesus  as  the 
ground  of  the  life  which  constitutes  the  essence  of 
Christianity  ;  or  to  discuss  the  philosophy  which 
underlies  Sabatier's  books.  We  can  only  stop  to 
indicate  briefly  that  when  we  have  separated 
Christianity  from  all  external  facts  and  have  made 
its  doctrinal  content  entirely  the  product  of  the 
religious  life,  we  have  done  away  with  Christianity, 
because  we  have  done  away  with  all  that  distin- 
guishes it  from  natural  religion.  Of  course  it  is 
true  that  Christianity  is  a  life  hid  with  Christ  in 
God.  It  is  also  true  that  Christian  doctrine  can 
never  produce  Christian  life.  St.  Paul  has  taught 
us  this.  Man  is  dead  in  sin,  and  the  revelation  of 
Divine  truth  in  the  Bible  will  fail  to  produce 
spiritual  apprehension  or  life  ;  for  '  the  natural  man 
receiveth  not  the  things  of  the  Spirit'  (1  Co  2"). 
These  great  truths  are  emphasized  in  the  Re- 
formed Theology.  But  the  type  of  thought  we 
are  discussing  means  that  the  essence  of  Christi- 
anity consists  in  a  life  which  precedes  and  is  inde- 
pendent of  facts  and  doctrines,  and  that  doctrine 


Glaube  u.  Dogma  replied 
to  Dreyer  that  instead  of  an  undogmatic  Christianity  we  need 
a  '  new  dogma '  which  grows  out  of  Christian  faith.  Dreyer  re- 
joined, in  a  later  edition  of  his  book,  that  he  admitted  a '  science 
of  faith'  (Glaubenskhre),  and  so  did  not  differ  from  Kaftan. 
Kaftan  again  replied,  saying  that  Dreyer  held  that  this  science 
of  faith  contained  a  symbolic  element,  and  was  only  of  relative 
validity.  This  seems  to  be  the  most  essential  point  of  difference 
between  Dreyer  and  Kaftan,  viz.,  the  latter  claims  absolute 
validity  for  dogmatics  as  '  the  science  of  faith,'  while  the  former 
admits  a  relative  element  in  this  '  science  of  f.aith '  which  he 
refuses  to  call  a  dogma.  Dreyer's  view  of  the  inner  life  of 
Christ,  as  independent  of  historical  criticism,  and  as  the  source 
of  Christian  life,  resembles  that  of  Herrmann  in  his  Verkehr  des 
Cliristrn  rait  Gott.  But  Drever  is  a  mystic,  while  Herrmann  is 
ii"t.  s,  ,  ,1,.,,  [)rr\,r.Xiiri'utl,«n,:.(:l,iuh,'„sl.[postbum.],190l. 
/  ./■»,,.    /'/,//.  ./.•  /.I  ii./:,.  ,r,,rr,'x  la  Psych.  etVBis- 

'  '  ''      I    '"     il  'I   Iji-,  ir.  Is'.i7|,     'Hiis  i k  includes  a  lecture, 

111'    \i.i.:i,   'A  (lin^tKiii  l)i>^'iii;i^,'  jiuliiisht'd  separately  [also 
llii-    1 1    I  ,  ,.U, ,  /„  X  ll.li.ji'iiix ,/'.!  H(../-,V,'  ,■(  la  Religion  de  fjisprit. 


566 


FACT  AND  THEORY 


FACT  AND  THEORY 


is  the  product  of  life.  Thus  to  eliminate  fact  and 
doctrine  from  Christianity  is  to  leave  nothing  but 
bare  natural  religious  sentiment.  And  it  is  a 
mistake  to  suppose  that  Christianity  is  the  product 
of  the  religious  sentiment  (see  Warlield,  The  Right 
of  Syst.  TheoL).  It  is  no  more  the  product  of  this 
tlian  it  is  of  rational  reflexion. 

Furthermore,  there  is  now  left  no  basis  for  the 
affirmation  that  Christianity  is  the  final  religion, 
and  its  doctrine  absolute  truth.  For  we  can  never 
be  sure  that  Christian  life  may  not  reach  higher 
levels  and  embody  itself  in  more  elevated  doctrinal 
symbols.  AVriters  of  this  type  might  and  do  reply 
to  this,  that,  even  apart  from  fact  and  doctrine,  the 
Christian  life  is  not  the  bare  religious  sentiment, 
but  the  product  of  God's  Spirit,  and  that  it  i-- 
therefore  the  true  life,  and  its  doctrinal  proilu'  t 
final  truth.  But  when  they  atfirm  this,  tlit\ 
abandon  their  position.  For  it  cannot  be  pru\  eil 
that  this  life  is  the  true  life  if  the  norm  of  truth 
be  drawn  from  the  life  itself.  We  believe  that 
Christian  life  is  the  true  life  because  of  a  fact  and 
a  doctrine  Independent  of  this  life,  viz.  that  it 
proceeds  from  the  regenerating  activity  of  the 
Holy  Spirit.  But  in  affirming  tliis  we  have  as- 
serted a  great  fact  as  well  as  a  doctrine,  each 
independent  of,  as  well  as  at  the  basis  of.  Christian 
life.  In  short,  if  Christianity  is  separated  from 
the  great  supernatural  facts  of  Christ's  life  and 
from  the  great  supernatural  facts  of  the  action  of 
God's  Spirit  on  men's  hearts,  as  well  as  from  its 
authoritative  doctrinal  content,  then  that  which 
differentiates  it  from  mere  religious  sentiment  is 
gone.  What,  then,  to  sura  up,  is  the  attitude  of 
this  type  of  religious  thinking  to  the  question  of 
'  fact  and  theory'  in  relation,  especially,  to  Christ? 
This  question  may  be  answered  by  saying  that  the 
facts  and  doctrines  of  Christianity  have  been  sub- 
ordinated to  a  psychological  theory  that  feelint' 
and  sensation  precede  and  condition  thought.  And 
as  a  consequence,  we  are  left  >vith  a  human  Christ 
whose  portrait  is  the  product  of  the  religious  senti- 
ment. 

At  this  point  we  are  met  ^vith  a  reaction  from 
the  neglect  of  the  historical  element  in  Chris- 
tianity, and  also  from  the  demand  for  an  uiidog- 
matic  Christianity.  This  has  come  from  members 
of  the  Eitschlian  school.  Thus,  e.g.,  Harnack  (cf. 
his  address.  Das  Christcntum  it.  die  Gcschichtc, 
1896)  and  Herrmann  (besides  his  Vcrkehr  and 
Begriff  der  Offenbarung,  see  esp.  his  Warum 
bedarf  unser  Glaube  geschivhtUchcr  Thatsachen? 
1884)  have  attempted  to  defend  tlie  importance  of 
the  historical  basis  of  Christianity  aj;ainst  Lessing 
anil  Kant;  and  Kaitxin  {(ilmihr  I'l.  Ihiqu},,-.  1889) 
bus  written  a  ruply  tu  llreviT.  ^ll..^^in.•  that  the 
du-iiiatic  olcmcntis  c.->witiiil  to  ChnM  lanitv,  and 
that  what  we  need  is  a  •  ni-w  ^mjhi;!,'  I'.ut  this 
demand  must  be  judged  in  tlie  liulit  ..i  i1m  iimtive, 
principles,  and  results  of  tlii-  tli.,,l,,jir  1  move- 
ment. The  fundamental  mcitivi-  .,i  IdtMlilianism 
is  an  apologetir-  one.  viz.,  to  Inid  a  ground  of 
certitude  in  Chii-tiai.ity  xvliich  shall  be  indepen- 
dent of  the  ri-ult-^  ot  hi-torical  criticism  and  of 
metaphysics,  ami  so  to  M.ite  the  content  of  the 
Christian  faith  that  it  too  shall  be  independent  in 
both  these  respects.  In  order  to  accomplish  this, 
it  is  common  -with  theologians  of  this  school  to  lay 
stress  on  the  revelation  of  God  in  the  '  historic 
Christ,'  and  to  seek  to  find  in  Him  the  ground,  as 
well  as  an  essential  element  in  the  content,  of.  the 
Christian  faith.  This  ground  of  certitude  and  this 
dogmatic  content  are  held  to  be  independent  of 
historical  criticism  and  metaphysics,  by  means  of 
their  sharp  distinction  between  religious  and  theo- 
retic  knowledge,  the  latter  dealing  with  facts  and 
their  explanation,  the  former  with  religious  values. 
In  regard,  then,  to  the  historical  clement  in  Chri.- 


tianity  or  the  Christian  facts,  this  school  empha- 
sizes its  importance  as  part  of  the  essence  of 
Christianity  ;  but  in  order  to  maintain  its  inde- 
pendence of  the  results  of  historical  criticism,  falls 
back  upon  one  fact,  \\7.. — the  so-called  'historic 
Christ.'  It  is  not  meant  that  Christianity  is 
independent  of  the  results  of  historical  criticism 
in  such  a  sense  that,  if  there  were  no  ba.sis  for 
their  historic  Christ  in  the  Gospels,  Christianity 
could  still  survive.  Their  idea  is  that  the  '  his- 
toric Christ'  stands  fast  after  historical  criticism  has 
done  its  work.  But  .since  this  criticism  is  largely 
determined  by  an  anti-supernaturalistic  bias,  it 
is  evident  that  the  historic  Christ  of  the  Ritsch- 
lians  is  not  a  Christ  who  is  independent  of  histori- 
( al  ( liticism,  but  the  Christ  which  a  naturalistic 
■  1  it  iri-m  has  left  us.  This  shows  that  independence 
.  it  I  hi'  ie>ults  of  criticism  is  impossible,  since  Chris- 
tianity is  a  historical  religion.  The  supposed  inde- 
pendence of  its  results  turns  out  to  be  a  surrender 
of  all  that  is  difficult  to  defend  against  a  criticism 
•which  is  determined  by  naturalism.  Accordingly 
Harnack  says  (Das  Christcntum  u.  die  Geschichte) 
that  'the  tradition  as  to  tlu'  incidents  attending 
the  birth  and  early  liir  it  .li-u~  Christ  has  been 
shattered.'  This  uiaki  -  m-.  i-^aiy  the  old  rational- 
istic distinction  bet\\eLii  ■  kcimr  and 'husk,' and 
so  in  his  lectures  on  the  Essence  of  Christianitij 
we  are  told  that  we  must  distinguish  between  the 
Easter  message  of  the  empty  tomb,  which  is  not 
essential  to  Christianity,  and  the  Easter  faith  that 
Jesus  gained  a  victory  over  death  and  still  lives. 
Of  course,  if  we  follow  this  method,  not  only  will 
all  the  external  supernatural  events  of  Christ's 
life  have  to  be  surrendered,  but  also  those  elements 
in  His  inner  life  which  involve  the  supernatural 
must  go.  And  so  we  find  Herrmann  in  the  Verkehi- 
falling  back  upon  the  inner  life  of  Jesus  reduced  to 
a  merely  ethical  content.* 

Thus  the  Ritschlian  attempt  at  independence  of 
historical  criticism  results  really  in  a  sunender  to 
a  criticism  determined  by  naturalism.  The  \argin- 
birth  and  the  bodily  resurrection  of  Christ  are 
given  up,  and  we  have  no  longer  the  Christ  of  the 
Gospels,  but  the  Christ  of  a  Gospel  reconstructed 
by  the  critics.  It  is  the  subordination  of  Chris- 
tian facts  to  a  human  theory. 

When  we  turn  to  the  demand  for  a  'new  dogma,' 
which  we  saw  w^as  emphasized  by  Kaftan  (Glaube 
II.  Dogmn),  we  find  the  other  principle  of  the  school 
at  work,  viz. — the  separation  of  theology  from 
metaphysics,  and  the  distinction  between  religious 
and  theoretic  knowledge.  The  watchword  '  theo- 
logy without  metaphysics,'  however,  does  not  mean 
simply  theology  which  shall  be  free  from  a  specu- 
lative reconstruction  as  in  the  Hegelian  school.  It 
means  a  theology  without  any  metaphysical  ele- 
ments, i.e.  with  niithiiiL:  that  transcends  experience. 
Hence  we  nm-t  nut  only  ilistinuuish  the  'historical 
Christ'  from  tlir  Cliii-t  of  an  uncritical  tradition  ; 
we  must  also  ilistini;ui-li  Him  from  the  Christ  of  a 
metaphy.sical  dogma  of  Greek  origin.  Accordingly 
the  doctrines  of  the  Trinity  and  of  the  two  natures 
in  one  person  in  oiu-  Lord  are  to  be  abandoned  as 
metaphysical.     The  new  dogma  expresses  itself  in 

*  It  is  true  that  both  Herrmann  and  Reischle  ('  Der  Streit  iiber 
die  Begriindung:  des  Glaubens  auf  dem  gesch.  Christus,'  Zeitgch. 
f.  T/ieol.  u  Kirche,  1897)  make  a  sharp  distinction  between  the 
'ground'and  the 'content '  of  t;iitli  ;  ami  what  they  seek  is  an 
independent  ground  of  i  -    ilso  true  that  the 

ground  of  faith  once    I  -  in  their  hands  a 

i  husk  in  iU  *con- 


tent.'    Accordingly  t 
that  tits  ill  Willi  tlifir  1 

'                                   .'i 

f  of  faith 

r(I)ersnfj,<, 

tin-uish  the  .itiiiiin- 
and  thus  makes  room 

for  endless  subjectivity. 

s  iiistori.-.l 

FACT  AND  THEOEY 


FAITH 


religious  knowledge  which  s})rings  from  faith,  and 
not  in  metaphysical  propositions.  Christ,  there- 
fore, is  not  Divine  in  a  metaphysical  sense  as  in 
the  doctrine  of  the  two  natiires,  but  simply  in  the 
religious  sense  that  in  the  man  Jesus  we  have  the 
perfect  revelation  of  God,  or  else  that  the  term 
'Divinity'  expresses  His  value  for  the  believer. 
This  latter  is  Kitschl's  position,  and  members  of  the 
school  who  have  tukt'ii  a  niuif  iiii.-itiv(>  attitude 
than  Ritsehl  liave  fallvii  shi.rl  ..l  a~,.Miiim  Christ's 
Divinitjr  in  any  meta|ili,y^iral  .-.ii-c  i(t.  Kaftan, 
Dogmatik;  Lobstein,  LiJin'  r.  il.  nhn-iinl.  Gcburt 
C/iristi.  Harnack,  op.  lit.,  and  H.  Schultz,  Lchre 
V.  d.  Gottheit  Christi,  occupy  much  the  same  posi- 
tion as  Ritsehl). 

We  must  conclude  that  in  the  Kitschlian  theol- 
ogy we  have  again  the  subordination  of  the  great 
Christian  facts  and  dogmas  to  a  phenomenalistic 
philosophy  and  a  historical  criticism  subject  to  a 
naturalistic  bias.  This  amounts  to  their  subjec- 
tion to  a  human  theory.  For  the  fundamental 
question  Ls — Upon  what  ilues  this  theology  rest? 
Has  it  a  more  objecti%e  basis  tlian  rationalism  and 
mysticism  ?  It  seeks  to  base  revelation  on  Clirist. 
The  source  of  its  tlognia  is  not  the  individual 
Cliristian  consciousness  but  the  Christian  life,  or 
the  revelation  of  (iod  jiortrayed  in  the  Bible.  Kut 
its  Christ  is  a  human  ( 'lirist  who  i-au  give  no  ab.so- 
lute  ri'\  elation  of  (l.id  ;  :uhI  (lir  Scripture  is  not 
reganlfd  as  aiitliniital  i\i>  in  :iny  olijc(ttive  sense  as 
containing;  a  ^npurnalnral  rrvelat  ion,  but  simply  as 
the  record  of  the  revelation  by  the  human  Christ. 
The  Scrijrture  is  subjected  to  the  Christian  con- 
sciousness to  such  an  extent  that  the  Christian 
doctrines  are  not  to  be  taken  directly  from  Scrip- 
ture as  'external  revelations,'  but  only  as  'appro- 
priated '  and  '  authenticated '  by  Christian  faith 
(cf.  Kaftan,  Doffmaiik,  §  on  the  Scripture,  p.  48). 
Thus  the  idea  of  revelation  has  changed  its  biblical 
sense  of  a  supernatural  oumninnication  of  truth, 
and  becomes  the  product  of  the  religious  life  of 
those  who  stood  nearest  ( "lirist.  Hut  the  Christian 
life  does  not  remove  tlic  noetic  elfects  of  sin  all  at 
once,  and  con.sequently  this  idea  of  special  revela- 
tion does  not  meet  the  demand  which  made  a 
special  revelation  necessary.  In  short,  if  we  aban- 
don the  principle  of  external  authority,  we  cannot 
escape  the  subjection  of  the  facts  and  doctrines  of 
Christianity  to  a  philosophical  theory. 

The  logical  results  of  the  aliandonment  of  an 
external  authority  in  religious  knowledge  have 
been  recently  exliibited  in  the  new  theological 
school  which  follows  the  method  of  Comparative 
Religion.  For  if  Christ  is  only  human,  and  the 
Christian  revelation  not  supernatural,  it  will  be 
impossible  to  maintain  the  absoluteness  of  Chris- 
tianity as  the  Ritschlians  sought  to  do.  It  will  be 
impossible  to  maintain  that  Christianity  consists 
in  Christ  and  not  merely  in  a  principle  of  wliicli 
He  is  the  illustration.  We  thus  have  the  distinc- 
tion between  the  'Christian  jirinciple'  and  the 
person  of  Christ.  It  is  the  distinction  of  the  old 
rationalism,  only  mjw  in  ([uite  a  ilitterent  form, 
since  this  school'  insisis  that  pi  iiici[iles  can  never 
be  separated  from  tlieii  liistoiiral  embodiment. 
Tiierefore  the  distinction  bi'tween  the  'kernel' 
and  the  'husk'  must  be  given  up,  since  the  kernel 
is  always  inseparable  from  its  historical  manifesta- 
tion. All  history  is  relative,  yet  not  at  all  unim- 
portant, for  we  cannot  liave  religious  truth  except 
in  a  historically  conditioncil  form.  Tlius,  while  a 
greater  signiticance  attaches  to  ('ll^i^l  than  in  the 
old  rationalism,  the  great  facts  and  tin'  dogmatic 
content  of  Christianity  have  only  a  reh'tive  value, 
and  are  frankly  given  up  at  tl'ie  demands  of  an 
avowedly  naturalistic  philosoi)hy.  This  can  be 
.seen  in  Troeltsch,  the  dogmatician  of  the  school  (cf. 
his  art.  'Geschiclite  u.  .Metaphysik  '  in  ZoV.scAc,  f. 


Thpol.    V. 

Ki 

•rhe,    1S9S 

Ah.<:,>l„fh, 

it  ,1 

■V  r/„-,\/, 

clurhh,    1 

■ricellM 

personali 

\  Ji 

111.-  leli- 

view  of  the  power  of  development  in  Christianity, 
he  holds  that  it  is  not  possible  to  limit  God's  reve- 
lation to  one  person  at  the  beginning  of  Christian 
history.  Therefore  the  lirst  form  of  Christianity, 
as  connected  witli  Jesus,  is  to  be  regarded  along 
with  later  forms  simply  as  illustrations  of  the 
Cliristian  principle.  Thus  we  have  again  the 
entire  suliordination  of  the  facts  and  doctrines  of 
Christianity  to  the  theory  of  the  naturalistic  evo- 
lution of  religious  ideas. 

We  conclude,  then,  that  Christianity  consists  in 
a  series  of  supernatural  facts  together  with  their 
meaning  ;  that  their  true  meaning  is  their  mean- 
ing for  God,  and  that  therefore  He  innst  tell  it  to 
us  ;  that  the  noetic  etiects  of  sin  mak(^  it  necessary 
that  this  be  in  a  special  .and  su|ieriiatuial  inaiiner. 
The  abandonment  of  the  autliority  of  Sciijiinre 
for  the  interpretation  of  the  facts  leads  logically 
to  the  abandonment  of  the  facts  Iheinselves,  i.e.  to 
their  subordination  to  a  theory  whicli  distinguishes 
their  accidental  Scriptural  tV>rm  from  their  abid- 
ing philosophical  content.  The  Kitschlian  endeav- 
our to  stem  the  tide  of  this  logic  is  umsuccessfnl, 
and  the  ncwi-st  de\  i-l(.|iiiieiit  in  theology  has  east 
aside  the  liitsdilian  claim  as  to  the  absoluteness 
of  Christiaiiily  an.l  lie-  llivinity  of  Christ,  and 
has  snlijeeted  Scn|.(iirc  fad  .iiid  doctrine  to  an 
avowedly  naturalistic  |.hilu.n|,]iy.  If,  therefore, 
we  an-  not  to  lose  the  siipcni.iUiral  facts  and  their 
authoritative  interiirelalion.  i.f.  if  we  are  not  to 
lose  Christianity,  we  must  abide  by  the  Scripture 
as  an  external  authority. 


Modem  Religious  Thoui/hi,  Essays  by  Camp- 
bell, Farrar,  Adeney,  Horton  ;  Forrest,  The  Christ  of  Uisluri/ 
and  of  Experience,  Leet.  viii.  ;  H.  Bois,  Le  Dot/me  Grec ;  War- 
field,  The  Might  of  Sj/stematic  Theology  ;  Dcnney,  The  Death  of 
C'hnst,  Introd.;  Griffin,  '  Facts,  Doctrines,  and  Ideals'  in  Pres. 
and  Ref.  ifei).,  July  1901 ;  R.  A.  Lipsius,  'Die  Bedeutunt;  des 
Historischen  ini  Ciiristentume,'  pub.  in  Glauheii  xt.  Wissen.  p. 
Ill ;  A.  Sabatier,  The  Vitality  of  Christian  Dowtas  and  their 
Power  of  Evolution,  ef.  also  Part  3  of  his  Outlines  of  the  Phil, 
of  Relig.  ;  Dreyer,  Undogmatisches  Christentum  ;  Harnacli, 
Das  Christentum  u.  die  Geschichte  ;  Herrmann,  Warum  hrdar,t 
nnser  Glaube  geschichtlicher  Thatsachen  ? ;  Kaftan,  Glaube  u. 
Dogma;  Kirn,  Glaube  u.  Geschichte;  Kahler,  Der  sogenannte 
historische  Jesus  u.  der  gcsch.  biblische  Chri^liis;  Troeltsch, 
'  Geschichte  u.  Metaphysik'  in  Zeitschr.    f.   Th<-'J    ii    Kl'-rhi', 

.     ...  ■;  E- 

sachen ' 

tung  d.  gesch^  Thatsachen  t'.   den  Glauln  n        .     >  /. 

Zeitschr.  1896,  p.  349;  Seeljerg,  'Brauch.n  uir  in  n  irs 
Dogma?'  ib.  1891;  W.  A.  Picl<ard-Cambridgc,  '  Tliu  cliii.-.l,  of 
Dogma  and  the  Christ  of  Experience  '  in  Hibbert  Journal,  Jan. 
1906  ;  'Romanus,'  art.  'The  Historical  Jesus  and  the  Christ  of 
Experience,'  ib.  Apr.  1905  ;  Schanz,  '  Geschichte  u.  Dogma '  in 
Theol.  Quartalschr.,  1  Quartalheft  1905. 

Compare  also  —  Kant,  Die  Relig.  innerhalb  d.  Grenzen  d. 
blossen  Vermmft ;  Fichte,  Anweis.  zuni  seligen  Leben ;  Ile-iel, 
Lectt.  on  Phil,  of  Relig.;  T.  H.  Green,  Miscell.  Works,  iii.  pp. 
160-186,  230-276 ;  Pflei'derer,  Glaubens-  u.  Silteniehre,  §S  on 
Christ ;  Biedermann,  Chr.  Dogmatik,  ii.  §  815 ;  A.  .Sai!.itier, 
£sr,w,.!.w  d'vnr  fhil.  de  la  Relig.  etc.,  also  Lrs  Relniinns 
d'Aiitnrit''  rt  (a  lu'litj.  de  VEsprit  ;  Harnaclt,  Wcsen  des  Chris- 

Gntl..n]'^..'ii,,l:''ir,'ir'd.  Ojlenbar'uwi ;  Kaftan,  Dus  ilVs.n  d. 
Chr.  Ji'ii,,..  Al,s,  h.  -2.  Kap.  3;  Reischle,  '  Uer  Streit  uber  die 
Begruiiduiig  des  Claubens  auf  detn  gesch.  Christus  '  in  Zeitsch. 
,f.  Theol.  u.  Eirche,  1S97  ;  Troeltsch,  Die  Absolutheit  des  Chris- 
tentxtms  u.  die  Religionsgesch.  C.  W.  HODGE. 

FAITH  (Heb.  .ijio??,  Or.  ir(,rT»).— 

1.  Introductory. 

2.  The  idea  of  '  faith  '  in  tlie  OT. 

3.  Later  Jewish  idea  of  'faitli.' 

4.  'Faith'  in  the  Gospels:  (1)  in  the  Synoptics;  (2)  in  the 

Fourth  Gospel. 
6.  Some  characteristics  of  the  Johannine  conception  of  '  faith.' 

6.  The  Johannine  and  Pauline  conceptions  of   'faith'  con- 
I  trasted. 

7.  The  place  of  '  faith '  in  the  teaching  of  Jesus. 
I  Literature. 


568 


FAITH 


FAITH 


1.  Introductory.— Iv.  the  NT  the  term  'faith' 
has  two  main  meanings,  which  may  he  distin- 
guished as  active  and  passive  senses,  viz.  :  (1)  belief, 
'  the  frame  of  mind  which  relies  on  another,'  and 
{2)JideHfi/,  'the  frame  of  mind  which  can  be  relied 
on.'  Of  these  the  former  is  the  predominant  use, 
and  is  marked  by  a  rich,  copious,  and  distinctively 
Christian  development. 

The  two  senses — the  active  and  p^ive — both  logically  .ind 
grammatically  pass  by  an  easy  transition  from  one  to  the  other, 
and  are  not  always  clearly  distinguishable,  or  are  actually  com- 
bined (as,  «.(;.,  in  o(  Tia-To/,  'the  faithful,'  applied  to  the  Chris- 
tian fellowship).  In  the  OT  the  guoii-active  sense  of  'trust,' 
«ith  the  nieaninic  'exhibit  faithfulness  or  confidence,'  is  ex- 
pressed by  the  Hiphil  I'DKrr  (constr.  mth  3  = 'to  believe  in 
reliance  on  or  in,'  followed  by  the  object  or  ground  of  the 
belief ;  with  ''  in  a  weaker  sense,  '  to  believe,'  the  object  here 
denoted  by  S  being  not  so  much  that  in  which  the  confidence  is 
reposed,  as  that  on  the  (attesting)  strength  of  which  it  is 
reposed  in  tlie  absolute  object).  No  noun-deri\ati\e  from  the 
Hiphil  occurs  in  the  OT  (denoting  '  f.iith  '  as  an  acti\e  principle). 
The  substantive  ni^CN  'firnmess,'  'steadfastness,'  'fidelity' 
(notice  the  passive  form)  is  the  nearest  equivalent  for  'fiutli'; 
but  it  alw.ivs  occurs  with  the  passive  sense,  with  the  possible 
exception  of  Hab  24  ('  the  just  shall  live  bj/  his. faith  ')."  In  this 
passiige  the  active  principle  of  trust  in  God  seems  to  be  con- 
trasted sharply  with  arrogant  self-sufficiency. 

The  Gr.  -rte-r,;  (T.iTTsio.),  seems  to  have  followed  the  reverse 
order  of  development  (from  acti\'e  to  passive).  Here  the  pre- 
dominant meaning  is  active  '  faith,'  '  trust,'  '  belief '  (in  Classical 
usage,  however,  with  the  slightest  possible  association  with 
religious  ideas).  The  LX.X  use  of  the  word  (T,»-T«=,n:?c.^ 
usually ;  sometimes  nj^!  and  n:,p.x)  probably  reacted  upon  the 
Hebrew,  and  on  this  supposition  it  is  possible  to  explain  the 
active  sense  which  is  certainly  present  in  Rabbinical  Hebrew, 
and  wiiich  may  be  seen  in  ti»e  late  Hebrew  of  Sirach  (e.g,  4615).  t 
In  the  Aramaic  of  the  Targums  the  active  sense  is  fixed  in  a 
substantive  derived  from  the  .^phel,  KniJ^'.l  (used  in  Gn  15''  of 
Abraham's /a  (7A).     Cf.  the  Syriac  equivalent  of  rritrris  in  the  NT 

]Ln  1  Vi  .CT1. 

2.  The  idea  of  faith  In  the  OT.— Faitli  as  an 
active  religious  principle  is  relatively  far  less  pro- 
minent in Jthe  (JT  than  in  the  NT.  The  solitary 
instance  in  which  the  active  meaning  certainly 
emerges  in  the  Heb.  .substantive  njrax  has  already 
been  referred  to.  But  even  the  verb  (i'^sn)  is  by 
no  means  common  with  a  religious  connotation. 
TrvLst  or  confidence  in  God  and  the  unseen  are,  of 
course,  essential  to  spiritual  religion,  and  receive 
nifinifolil  expression,  especially  in  the  Psalms  (note 
tin-  u-.'  in  this  connexion  of  (?,  Sy)^^  n?3  with  God 
:i- "I'l'' !  r.ut,as  Lightfootj  has  remarked, 'it  is 
iu.li'.l  :i  rli^uacteristic  token  of  tlie  difference  be- 
tween tlie  two  covenants,  that  under  the  Law  the 
"fearol  the  Lord"  holds  very  much  tlie  s.aiiie  place 
as  "faith  in  God,"  "faith  in  Christ,"  under  the 
Gospel.  Awe  is  the  prominent  idea  in  the  earlier 
dispensation,  trust  in  the  later.' 

The  object  of  '  faith,'  as  expressed  (with  a  re- 
ligious connotation)  by  the  verb  (psKn)  in  the 
OT,  is  sometimes  the  words  or  oomiuandiiients  of 
God,  or  a  particular  word  or  wcrk  of  (I.hI,  or 
the  Divine  revelation,  or  the  Iii\i!i.-  ju.-  timers 
the  prophets,  or  God  Himself  in  lli-  .^n  I'iinch. 
Of  tuis  last  usage  the  examples  :iir  tlir  iiiii>t  im- 
portant (Gn  15°,  Ex  W,  Nu  14"  20'-,  Dt  P-,  2  K 
17",  2  Ch  20-°,  Ps  78'^,  Jon  3»).§  Here  the  verb  is 
construed  Avith  3.  The  classical  instance  is,  of 
course,  Abraham's  faith  (Gn  15«),  which,  \vith  a 
true  instinct,  has  been  recognized,  both  by  Jewisli 
and  Christian  religious  exegesis,  as  the  supreme 
example  of  faith  in  its  active  exercise  as  a  religious 
principle. 

3.  Later  Jewish  idea  of  « faith.'— In  early  l{ab- 
*Targ.,  however,  pD"pn'  pnonp  Sy.      Perhaps,  as  Light- 
foot  {Galatians,  p.  148)  suggests,  the  'transitional  or  double 
sense  *  should  be  recognized  in  the  passa^. 

f  !» iriWa  «ii«S  ixfi^irH  Tfe^iiTii! ;  Heb.  nm  ^("nj  in:iDK)3 
(Strack). 

t  Op.  cit.  p.  1.51 

§  Add  to  these  the  cases  where  it  is  construed  absolutely : 
Ex  431,  Is  79  2S10,  Ps  ll(il» ;  and  cf.  Ps  2713, 


binical  and  other  Jewish  literature  the  term  for 
'faith,'  besides  its  Biblical  meaning  of  'faithful- 
ness,' also  denotes  active  trust  in  God.  This  as  a 
religious  principle  is  emphatically  praised  by  the 
Rabbis,  and  regarded  by  them  as  highly  meri- 
torious. The  classical  example  is,  as  has  already 
been  stated,  the  faith  of  Abraham  (Gn  15"),  wliicn 
became  one  of  the  commonplaces  of  theological  dis- 
cussion not  only  in  Rabbinical  circles  but  also  in 
the  Hellenistic  school  of  Alexandria,*  while  its 
occurrence  in  the  NT  is,  of  course,  a  familiar  fact. 
The  most  instructive  example  in  Rabbinical  litera- 
ture is  to  be  found  in  the  early  Midrashic  work 
the  Mekhilta  (on  Ex  l'i*').t  The  passage  runs  as 
follows : 


■  Tht 


Lord  I 


this  thou  niayest  learn 
Shepherd  is  (regarded)  as 
spake  and  the  world  wa 


believed'in  t/ie  Lard  and 
(Ek  IS^y.  Thensanj  Mu! 


'ses.  If  they  be- 
ie\o  in  the  Lord.  From 
believes  ill  the  faithful 
in  the  word  of  Him  who 
is  faith  whereby  Israel 
s|iake  and  the  world  was ;  for  because 
srael  believed  in  tlie  Lord,  the  Holy  Spirit  abode  upon  them, 
g  the  song  :  for  inimediatel.\'  after  the  words :  they 
-  '  -■  '  ■  "  -  ,,■---  •  follow  the  words 
hraet  this  song  to 
the  Lord.  In  like  iiianner  tbou  flndcst  that  .\braham  our  Father 
inherited  this  world  and  the  world  to  come  only  by  the  merit 
of  faitli  (njvS)  whereby  he  believed  in  the  Lord,  as  it  is  said 
(Gn  168) :  And  he  believed  in  the  Lord,  and  He  counted  it  to  him 
for  ngnteou^ness.  ,  .  .  R.  Neheiniah  says :  Whoever  receives 
unto  himself  one  precept  (of  the  Law)  in  true  faith  (n;Cg3)  is 
worthy  for  the  Holy  Spirit  to  abide  upon  him  ;  for  so  we  find  in 
the  case  of  our  fathers  that  because  the\  believed  in  the  Lord 
they  were  deemed  worthy  that  the  Hol\-  .Spirit  should  abide 
upon  them,  and  tliey  uttered  tlie  song.  For  it  is  said  :  they 
believed  in  God  and'in  Moses  IJis  serrani ;  and  (immediately 
afterwards)  it  is  said :  then  sang  Moses  and  the  children  o.f  Israel, 
etc.  And  so  tliou  findest  in  the  case  of  Abraham  that  he  in- 
herited this  world  and  the  world  to  come  solely  by  merit  of 
faith  (njos  rH3|3),  whereby  he  believed  in  the  Lord,  as  it  is  said 
(156);  Abraham  belieeed,  etc.  And  in  the  same  way  we  find  in 
the  case  of  Moses,  David,  and  Deborah  that  they  (by  reason  of 
faith)  sang  a  song,  and  the  Holy  Spirit  abode  upon  them.  And 
in  like  manner  thou  findest  that  solely  by 
Israel  redeemed  from  Eg\i)t,  as  I'  '  " '  ' 
" iid(Ps  : 


lieved,  etc.    And  f 
faithful,  raakin..' 
the  righteous   ii  [ 
righteous  natio<<, 
this  gate  all  tin 
921):  /(  is  a 
to  sing  praisr^  ' 
Thy  loving-kiioln, 
the  nights,  vith 


on    r,f  th( 


.     .  of  faith 

1  said  :  And  the  people,  be- 
31-») :  The  Lord  preserveth  the 
faith  of  the  fathers.  ...  Of 
:  Ojien  ye  the  gates  that  the 
!■<  .faith,  may  enter  in.  Into 
•^■;2)  enter.  David  sings  (Ps 
ilinnks  unto  the  Lord,  and 
"   V  ;f    I!i;ih:  to  show  forth 

'  rini  faithfulness  in 

■nnrn  and  vith  the 

'  './).    For  Thou,  O 

.  'tiid  in  the  opera- 

"  :  ;;■■■  >LLU.-i-  Mf  his  joy 

.    I  )       '  '^  .h..ivr,l  in  this 


Jehoshaphat  (J  ( 
and  went  forth  i 
■weixjt  forth  Jcho< 
Judah,  and  ye  u 
Lord  your  God.  nj 
His  prophets,  "n 
(Jer53):  OLur.i. 
2J):  The  right, 


1  Philo  is  substantially 


,  faith 
.    'The 


Jewand  theChri-tiaa  .\|-  -1!     I  :f 

t  The  original.;, II  i,.  -, ,  i,  u,  \\ .  i- 
The  Mekhilta  is  i.  l>:U:iklM.'  mMr,, 
in  its  present  furiii  tn.iu  liic  lir-t 
century,  but  containing'  iiiucli  c-irli 
for  illustrating  early  Jewish  ideas  1 
Apostolic  age. 

}  So  the  words  of  the  original  (njDK  an'ia  niljia)  are  under 
stood  here.  '  Bride '  (■i?5)  is  a  mystical  designation  of  the  Holy 
Spirit  or  Shekinah, 


FAITH 


569 


betroth  thee  iinto  me  far  eeer ;  yea,  I  n'ill  betroth  thee  unto  me 
with  faith  (njIDKZ).  Great  is  faith  before  God,  for  on  account 
of  faith  it  is  thai  the  Holy  Spirit  abides  (upon  Israel),'  etc. 

In  the  early  Rabbinical  literature  '  faith '  ^vavers 
in  meaning  between  'belief  and  Miilclity  (to  the 
Law).'  The  former  is  prominent  in  Ihr  A/'nctdi/jJuc 
of  Baruch  (1st  cent,  a.d.)  Unt  the  latter  is  char- 
acteristic of  the  later  period,  'faith'  and  'works' 
being  co-ordinated  or  combined.*  'Faith'  (■ij5d?<) 
in  the  sense  of  fixed  dogmatic  belief  is  quite  late  in 
Hebrew  literature  (niediseval  times). 

In  Rabbinical  Hebrew,  besides  the  nouns  njlDN,  nj^N,  a 
Hiphil-substaiitival  form  .^JC^!^  ( =  Aram.  NnuD'n)  occurs 
(Tosefta  Baba  bathra  v.  8).  For  the  Gospel-expression  cXjj-o- 
ma-Ttii  a  Heb.  parallel  occurs  in  Mekhilta  (on  E.>c  l.^i)  -noina 
niDN  'those  lacking  faith."  So  in  the  Pal.  Tarif.  (on  Nu  11^-) 
(inUD'n  "IDnlD  ('Then  rose  up  those  who  had  lacked  faith  and 
gathered  the  iiuails,'  etc.) ;  and  Gen.  Itali.  §  32,  .ijIDX  ';¥P  '  men 
of  little  faith '  (an  e.xact  parallel).  In  tlie  Mishn'a,  Sola  ix.  12, 
the  decline  of  the  world  is  ascribed  to  the  disappearance  of 
'  men  of  faith '  (njEft  •:?;)<). 

i.  '  Faith '  in  the  Gospels.  —  The  terms  for 
'  faith '  and  '  believe '  in  contrast  with  those  of 
the  OT  are  characteristic  of  the  whole  NT  lan- 
guage, and  occur  almost  entirely  with  a  directly 
religious  connotation.  In  Philo  the  religious  con- 
tent of  the  terms  had  decidedly  been  heightened, 
but  suffered  from  a  certain  vagueness  in  the  con- 
ception of  the  object  of  faith,  due  to  his  trans- 


cendental philosophy.  Faith,  in  Philo's  conception, 
rests  rather  upon  the  abstract  Divinitj;  than  upoi 
the  personal  God  of  grace  and  salvation,  and  ii 


rather  the  fruit  and  crown  of  righteousness  than 
its  antecedent.  In  the  NT  it  is  all-important  to 
di.stinguish  the  different  connotations  of  the  terms 
according  as  the  object  is  (a)  God  ;  (6)  the  promises 
of  God  ;  (e)  Christ ;  (d)  some  particular  utterance, 
claim,  or  promise  of  (jod  or  Christ.  '  The  last  of 
these  senses  is  the  one  most  common  in  the  Syn- 
optic Gospels.' t 

(1)  In  the  Synoptics. — In  its  active  sense  of 
'  faith,'  iriiTTis  usually  means  here  belief  or  trust  in 
God  or  God's  poM-er  as  manifested  in  Christ  (the 
so-called  'miracle-faith ').t  The  response  of  faith 
conditions  the  granting  of  relief  to  those  in  bodily 
distress  (Mk  5"  II,  10'-  II),  the  eliect  being  propor- 
tionate to  the  degree  of  faith  exercised  (Mt  9^ 
'  According  to  your  faith  [Kara  r^v  iriann  vixwv']  be  it 
done  unto  you  ;  cf.  15-'*,  Lk  V'  °" ;  and  for  degrees 
of  faith  .see  Mt  8'"  1|,  Lk  W  etc.).  In  this  con- 
nexion Mt  13^'  is  instructive.  We  are  told  that 
'  He  did  not  many  mighty  works  there  ['  in  his 
own  country,'  Nazareth]  because  of  their  unbelief 
('lack  of  faith,'  airiaTiaii)  ;  cf.  Mk  G«.  Tlie  term 
'faith'  is  also  applied  to  the  nnijidmrr  cf  tlic  ilis- 
ciplc  that  the  ]>ov)er  i-nnfi-rn-il  upin)  lihn  irill  be 
effective  (in  the  perforniaiice  of  luinu-ulous  works), 
Mk  lP2•-^  defined  by  Christ  as  'faith  in  God' 
(v.^).  Possibly,  however,  this  passage  (as  lias  been 
suggested  by  Menzies§)  is  intended  simply  to  bring 
home  to  the  disciples  the  power  of  faitli  in  accom- 
plishing the  seemingly  impossible.  'Jesus  sum- 
mons tliose  who  look  to  Him  to  have  faith  in  God 
when  they  are  in  great  danger,  or  when  they  are 
seeking  with  all  their  heart  some  boon  \\'hich  out- 
ward appearances  declare  to  be  all  but  hopeless ' ; 
the  special  and  (apparently  insurmountable)  diffi- 
culty here  being  the  insensibility  of  the  Jewish 
people  as  a  whole  to  the  message  of  the  gospel 

*  Cf.  Charles' note  on  Apoe.  Bar.  liv.  21 :  '  Faith  in  the  Tahnvid 
is  in  one  of  its  aspects  regarded  as  a  work  which,  as  the  fulfil- 
ment of  the  Law,  produces  merit.' 

+  Sanday-Headlani,  Romans,  p.  31  f.  The  passive  sense  of 
TiVr/s  ('faithfulness,'  'fidelity')  is  very  rare  in  the  NT.  The 
only  instance  in  the  Gospels  seems  to  be  Mt  23»  ('  the  weightier 
niatters  of  the  Law,  judgment  and  mercy  and  faithfulness'  [xa.) 

':  Nowhere  in  the  NT  is  it  used  of  man's  faith  in  man. 


(symbolized  by  the  -Hithi 
words  of  Christ  to  Jairu- 
believe'),  to  the  father  of  i 
possible  !  All  things  are  i 
ieveth"),  to  the    ''     '   ' 


fi-    tree).     Cf.   the 
»  -".  '  '  Fear  not,  only 

■|.ile|,tic(92»'Ifitbe 

ilile  to  him  that  be- 
tlie  storm  (i™  '  Why 


are  ye  fearful  ?     Ilax'e  ye  not  faith  ? '). 

The  words  about  the  power  to  remove  mountains 
(Mk  11™-  II  Mt  L>1-"-)  occur  also  in  a  diflerent  con- 
nexion in  Mt  17-"  (and  in  the  rebuke  administered 
to  the  disciples  for  their  '  lack  of  faith  '  in  dealing 
with  the  epilejjtic— a  case  of  special  difficulty). 
They  have  a  proverbial  ring,*  and  may  easily  have 
been  used  by  our  Lord  more  than  once  (cf.  Lk  17" 
'  If  ye  ha\e  faith  as  a  grain  of  mustard  seed,  ye 
would  say  to  this  sycamine  tree.  Be  thou  rooted 
up,'  etc.). 

In  one  instance  '  faith '  is  used  in  the  Synoptic 
Gospels  in  a  way  that  suggests  the  technical  sense 
so  frequent  in  the  Epistles,  viz.  Lk  18^  ('  When  the 
Son  of  man  comes,  shall  he  find  faith  on  the 
earth '  ?)  Here  '  faith '  =  faith  in  Himself  as  Messiah 
and  Redeemer. 

In  the  Acts  and  Epp.  t.Vti,-,  used  absolutely,  constantly 
occurs  in  a  soteriological  sense  =' saving  faith.'  It  rapidly 
became  a  Christian  technical  term,  and  practically  stood  as  a 
synonym  for  Christianity,  marking-  out  the  new  religion  as  essen- 
tially characterized  by  faith  or  belief  in  Jesus  as  Redeemer. 
'  Believers  '  becomes  the  designation  of  Christians  ;  '  to  believe ' 
=  to  become  a  Christian.  As  contrasted  xvith  this  usage,  the 
term  in  the  Synoptics  is,  to  some  extent,  undeveloped  in  mean- 
ing. Yet  how  near  the  soteriological  lies  to  the  '  miracle-faith ' 
comes  out  clearly  in  such  a  passage  as  Ac  316  (the  healing  of  the 
lame  man  at  the  Gate  Beautiful)  '  By  faith  in  his  name  hath 
his  name  made  this  man  strong,  whom  ye  behold  and  know ; 
yea,  the  faith  that  is  through  him  hath  g'iven  him  this  perfect 
soundness  in  the  presence  of  you  all ' ;  here  '  faith  in  the  Name ' 
(of  Jesus)  is  described  as  '  faith  brought  into  being  by  Him ' 
()i  TiiTTt?  ii  hi'  ai/rouXi  and  the  same  conclusion  results  from  a 
comparison  of  the  language  of  Mt  9'^,  Mk  25,  Lk  620  ('  Xhy  sins 
are  forgiven  thee  '),  as  well  as  from  the  language  of  Lk  7^,  Mt 

(2)  In  the  Fourth  Gospel  the  absence  of  the  sub- 
stantive (irio-ris) — which  does  not  occur  at  all — is 
made  up  for  by  the  frequent  use  of  the  verb  (iricr- 
Tetjeiv). 

niiTTaut  rarely  occurs  in  the  NT  in  the  weakened  sense  '  to 
credit,'  '  give  credence  to ' ;  only  once  apparently  of  a  non- 

'■  ■        act  (Mt  2423.26,  Mk  132I— in  the  warning  about  false 


Christs,  '  believe 
definite  act,  event, 
prayer  (Mt  21;"~    "" 


elsewhere  of 
fact  in  the  religious  sphere  ;  of  believing 
atsoever  ye  shall  ask  in  pra.ver,  believing 
:);  of  belief  in  the  fact  of  the  resurrection  of 
Christ  (Jn  208- 25.  2a  6is);  in  God's  word  of  promise  (Lk  !«  ;  cf. 
Ac  26'-^),  in  the  declarations  of  Jesus  whether  regarding  earthly 


saved,'  cf.  Jn  1"). 

The  usual  sense  of  the  verb  in  the  Fourth  Gospel 
is  a  soteriological  one.  It  expresses  saving  faith 
directed  to  the  Person  of  Christ.  In  some  instances, 
it  is  true,  the  immediate  object  of  the  faith  is  the 
wonder-working  power  of  Jesus  (the  'miracle- 
faith  ') :  Jn  4'"*  ('  Except  ye  see  signs  and  wonders, 
ye  will  in  nowise  believe'),  ll''".§  But  here  also 
the  same  remark  applies  as  to  the  similar  cases  in 
the  Synoptics,  that  tlie  soteriological  meaning  lies 
very  close  to,  and  is  sometimes  almost  indistin- 
guishable from,  the  other  (cf.  Jn  4^"  with  v.^''  and 
9»8,  and  11*  with  v.'^  and  \■l'■^•*).  In  the  foUowing 
instances,  however,  the  direct  soteriological  sig- 
nificance is  clear  and  unmistakable:  3'5- 18  4-11. 42. 53 
5«  636-  «• "  9^8  10=5-  =»  11>5  \-<:»  14-'-'  \&^  XSF-  20*'.  Of 
these  passages  the  two  last  are  particularly  instruc- 
tive :  '  That  ye  may  believe '  (19^),  and  '  These  are 
written  that  ye  may  believe  that  Jesus  is  the 
Christ,  the  Son  of  God  ;  and  that  believing  ye  may 
have  life  in  his  name'  (20^").     Here  faith  occupies 

*  For  the  possible  interpretation  of  the  words  HNT  m.T  1.13 
(Gn  2214)  as  a  proverb= '  In  the  mountain  (i.e.  when  perplexity  is 
at  its  height)  Jahweh  will  provide,'  see  C.  J.  Ball  in  SHOT 
note,  ad  loc.    Cf.  Zee  4^. 

t  Cf.  al™  Ac  149. 

;  Cf.  also  the  use  of  riirriiut  for  saving  faith  in  Christ,  in  Mk 


15^2. 
§.Cf.  Mt  b 


3  9'-;3  -21,  Lk  HM. 


FAITH 


FAITH 


a  fundamental  place.  Its  essential  object  is  defined 
to  te  the  belief  that  Jesus  is  '  the  Clinst,  the  Son  of 
God.' 


9").      Lt.   li.e  ,„u,..ae  U=c  Ml    ^  7,.-  r.»,  ■  Uul^ciwi     tilk  »-  IGIJ,  Jit 

13S«,  Mk  06  ;  also  ill  the  Epp.) ;  i-ri^T:»,  ■  disbelie\  e  '  (Ilk  lUll- 1", 
Lk  24"-",  Ac  282»,  1  P  27);  and  i\iyiT,a-ro;,i'ot  little  faith'  (Mt 
630  828  1431  168,  Lk  1228);  S>.,ycT,^T,«.,  'little  faith,"  occurs  lit 


5.  Some  characteristics  of  the  Johannine  con- 
ception of  'faith.'  The  Imuhiniental  conception 
of  'faith'  in  the  Fouitli  (!.)spi-l  cdini'ides  with  that 
of  the  other  NT  writers  ;  it  cdii^ists  essentially  in 
trustful  self-committal  to  Christ  ;inil  His  s.Uvation. 
Only  it  is  concerned  less  than  in  tin'  Synupties 
with  the  appropriation  of  directly  physir:il  relief; 
it  moves  rather  in  the  sphere  \a  spiritual  and 
eternal  facts,  and  directs  itself  more  exclusivelj- 
to  the  Person  of  Christ.  Trust  in  God  and  in  Christ 
are  equated  (14') ;  faith  characterizes  those  who 
recognize  His  Divine  mission  (cf.  also  16™),  and 
they  are  described  as  those  'who  believe  in  his 
name.'  The  result  of  faith  is  an  acknowledgment 
of  Christ's  unity  with  the  Father  {10^  14"). 

Faith  (TTiffTeufii')  and  knowledge  (yiyviia-Kav)  are 
intercliangeable  ideas  in  tlie  Fourth  Gospel  (cf.  6"' 
1038  178)^  or  rather  they  express  the  same  truth 
looked  at  from  different  sides.  '  To  know '  (7i7i'ui(7- 
Keiv)  in  the  Johannine  language  expresses  the  per- 
ception of  eternal  truth  ;  '  to  believe,'  its  temporal 
discovery  and  appropriation.  The  former  is  there- 
fore the  fruit  of  the  latter  (cf.  esp.  10^  '  believe 
.  .  .  that  ye  may  know').  The  intellectual  ele- 
ment is  thus  the  product  of  a  moral  act,  and  is 
conditioned  by  it.  Faith  is  not  the  result  of  logical 
operations,  but  is  due  to  tlie  Divine  working  (C'" 

'No  man  can  come  ti eNre|.i  the  Father  which 

.sent  me  draw  him').  WIm  !.■  imli  is  not  attained, 
this  is  due  to  the  distr.u  tii.n  cmh  ii.l  by  lower  and 
earthly  ambitions  or  idi:ils  c  ulciiy  one  of  another,' 
5'"),  or  the  deliberate  choice  of  darkness  rather 
than  light  (3",  cf.  v.^').  Trust  is  also  shown  to  be 
characteristic  of  a  real  faith,  which  does  not  need 
'signs,'  and  has  risen  above  the  necessities  of 
'  sight '  (20-").  Tlie  boon  which  faith  appropriates 
is  eternal  life  (5-^). 

Tliere  is  evident  in  tlie  treatment  of  faith  char- 
acteristic of  the  Fourth  Gospel  a  spirit  of  protest 
against  the  false  and  exaggerated  views  of  know- 
ledge that  were  beginning  to  affect  tlie  Church. 
The  subtle  and  pervasive  danger  of  Gnosticism, 
with  its  dangerous  glorifieatiuii  <if  a  merely  in- 
tellectual knowledge,  and  its  (.ini(iii|ii  in  simple 
faith,  had  to  be  met.  This  u,,  ,  n,-  ,,  ,|  i,,  the 
Fourth  Gospel,  'on  the  one  IiuimI  Iry  il.  ,|,riiinn' the 
idea  of  knowledge  to  the  knowledge  of  exjierience' 
(which  is  the  fruit  of  simple  faith),  'and  on  the 
other  by  insisting  upon  the  immediate  entrance  of 
every  believer  into  the  possession  .^of  salvation.' t 
The  writer  of  the  Fourth  Gospel  'would  indoi^l 
have  believers  know  what  they  believe,  and  who 
He  is  in  whom  they  put  their  trust,  and  what  He 
has  done  for  them,  and  is  doing,  and  will  do  in  and 
through  them  ;  but  this  is  not  that  they  may  know 
these  things  simply  as  intellectual  propositions, 
but  that  they  may  rest  on  them  in  faith,  and  know 
them  in  personal  experience.'?    Nothing  is  more 

*  el  TirTiitratvTt:  (=tho3e  who  had  turned  to  Christ  in  trustful 
reliance)  is  perhaps  used  as  a  subst.  in  such  passages  as  Ac  2-*^ 
4  ".!,  2  Th  1115,  He  43. 

t  1!.  B.  WarfieUl  in  Hastiniis'  D/J  i.  S30  (.irt.  'F.iith'). 

t  Warfleld,  ih. 


characteristic  of  the  Johannine  conception  than 
the  insistence  on  the /»rscn<  experience  and  partici- 
pation in  eternal  life  of  believers.  '  He  that  be- 
lieveth  hath  eternal  life'  (S'^  5-*  e"-";  cf.  IJn 
;(i4.  15  5ii-i3)_  The  inheritance  of  the  true  Christian 
w  as  not  merely  a  future  boon, — tliough  the  future 
liad  in  store  tor  him  a  greater  glory  than  that  of 
the  present, — but  the  simple  believer,  by  the  mere 
act  of  faith,  was  already  placed  on  a  plane  of  life  to 
which  no  knowledge  could  attain.' 

It  is  worth  notim;  in  this  i-onnexion  that  iAii(/«i«  (which  like 
T.o-TK  is  ciiii.l".!'  1  III  111.  i.\x  to  translate  njiDN)  seems  to  be 
~ense  oi  /aith/tUiiess,  righlneas, 
ineanint^  of  intellectual  truth. 
:i  icn  or  njlDNl  nnn,  and  by 
Illness  corresponding  to  certain 
promises '  ( Wendt  •).  Cf .  also 
do  the  right,'  i.e.  to  act  consci- 
'•',  and  possibly  also  in  14''- '" 
lu'es  the  connotation  seems  to 
I  purely 


:itude '  )  rather  t 


used  in  the  V '.   -1 

rectitttde,  raiii.  1       .1 
In  114.16  ;t«-. 

iXy.Huicis  to  li:  .1,1  !  .;  •  . 
obligatory  n.i  ii :  n-  1  ■ 
the  phrase  t,  , 

entiously  ;  ;il- 

16-1i  16'3  IS-i  III  .il  All- 
be  a  tnoral  one  i^'  liiitiiniliu 
intellectual  one  ('  truth'). 

6.  The  Johannine  and  Pauline  conceptions  of 
'faith'  contrasted. — This  is  not  the  place  for  an 
extended  review  of  the  Pauline  view  of  faith,  but 
one  or  two  salient  jxiints  of  contrast  with  the 
Johannine  may  be  briefly  indicated.  The  different 
method  of  presentation  in  each  case  is  explained  by 
the  different  circumstances  under  which  each  was 
formulated.  In  the  interests  of  spiritual  religion 
the  Apostle  of  the  Gentiles  was  forced  to  wage  un- 
compromising war  with  Jewish  legalistic  concep- 
tions of  religion,  and  prejudices  in  favour  of  their 
own  privileged  religious  jMsition,  which  (naturally 
enough)  were  ingiained  in  the  Jewish  conscious- 
ness, and  threatened  to  pass  over  into  the  Christian 
Church.t  As  against  Jewish  privilege  and  advan- 
tages, St.  Paul  vindicated  and  maintained  the  great 
principle  that  in  the  domain  of  salvation  there  is 
no  distinction  between  .lew  and  Gentile,  and  that 
the  Jew  has  no  other  1  i-lit.  .m-ness  than  that  which 
comes  through  faith  in  .l.sux  Christ  (Gal 3"-),  being 
in  this  respect  in  exai  tly  tlie  .-.anie  position  as  the 
Gentile  (cf.  Ro  3'").  From  this  certain  imi)ortant 
results  follow:  (1)  That  'no  man  is  justified  by 
the  law'  (Gal  a'"  3",  Ko  3™),  and  (2)  that  '  a  man 
is  justified  by  faith  alone,  apart  from  works  of  law.' 
This  thesis  was  splendidly  develojied  by  St.  Paul 
in  his  great  dialectic.  The  absolute  sufficiency  of 
this  saving  faith  is  above  all  shown  in  tlie  contem- 
plation of  its  object.  '  It  is  because  faith  lays  liold 
of  Jesus  Christ,  wlio  was  delivered  up  for  our  tres- 
passes and  was  raised  for  our  justification  (Ro  4=*), 
and  makes  us  the  possessors  of  the  righteousness  of 
God  through  Him,  that  there  is  no  room  for  any 
righteousness  of  our  own  in  the  ground  of  our 
salvation  (Ro  10^  Eph  2«) '  (Warfield).  See,  further, 
Justification. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  Johannine  presentation  is 
determined  by  an  environment  of  ditl'erent  circum- 
stances. The  false  emphasis  laid  on  a  merely 
intellectual  knowledge  had  to  be  met.  Hence  the 
insistence  in  the  Fourth  Gospel  on  the  true  know- 
ledge of  Christian  experience  which  is  the  fruit  of 
a  simple  faith.  It  is  regarded  as  a  precious  and 
permanent  jnesent  jiossession.  Bi'iefly,  it  may  be 
said  that  '  faith  with  .St.  John  is  rather  contem- 
plative and  philosophi,-,  where  with  St.  Paul  it  is 

7.  The  place  of  '  faith '  in  the  teaching  of 
Jesus. — Christ  no  less  than  St.  Paul  combated  the 
prevailing  tendency  among  the  Jews  to  rest  in  a 

•  Teaching  of  Jeslis,  i.  p.  259  (En^.  tr.).  God's  faithfulness  to 
His  promises,  as  shown  esp.  in  blessing  His  people,  is  an  attribute 
constantly  insisted  011  in  the  OT. 

t  As  has  already  been  pointed  out  above,  '  faith '  was  regarded 
in  Jewish  circles"  as  of  the  highest  religious  significance  and 
value  ;  only,  in  the  background  of  the  Jewish  mind  there  always 
lurked  theconsciousness  of  privilege  and  superiority. 

t  Sanday-Headlain,  Romam,  p.  32. 


FAITH 


FALL 


571 


position  of  privile-c  (cf.  Ml  »',  Rn  2").  But  tlie  | 
dominant  charartrristio  of  Tlis  tfacliiii-,  as  icpuitcd 
both  in  tiie  Synuptiis  aii.l  in  llic  Fouilli  C.ispi'l,  is 
the  consistent  way  in  wliirh  lie  strives  to  iliaw  all 
faith  to  Himself.  Even  when  His  language  is  ' 
general  in  character  (Mk  1P=,  Mt  Sl^^,  Mk  9^,  Lk 
18*),  He  speaks  in  a  way  that  necessarily  fixes 
attention  upon  His  own  Person  as  God's  unique 
representative  on  earth.  The  soteriological  signi- 
ficance of  the  so-called  '  miracle-faith '  has  already 
been  pointed  out  above.  This  comes  out  especially 
in  such  a  passage  as  Mt  9-,  where  healing  of  the 
body  is  conjoined  with  the  claim  to  forgive  sins. 
That  Christ  is  the  proper  object  of  this  soterio- 
logical faith  is  sufficiently  attested  even  in  the 
Synoptic  account  (Lk  8'=-  '^  ^'\  Mt  IS"  [||  Mk  ^^j, 
Lk  7*"  ;  cf .  Lk  iP^-  *=).  It  is  in  the  Fourth  Gospel, 
however,  in  the  intimate  discourses  of  Jesus  which 
are  there  preserved,  that  the  fullest  account  is 
given  of  the  teaching  of  our  Lord  on  this  subject. 
Here,  as  is  natural,  faith  in  its  higher  aspects  is 
consistently  and  abundantly  set  forth,  as  reflected 
and  mirrored  in  the  recollection  of  the  '  disciple 
whom  Jesus  loved.'  In  the  Fourth  Gospel  we  are 
confronted  with  the  personal  testimony  of  the  dis- 
ciple who  was  uniquely  fitted  both  by  temperament 
and  by  character  to  receive  and  assimilate  the 
deepest  thoughts  of  his  Master. 

The  testimony  of  the  Fourth  Gospel  on  this  sub- 
ject cannot  be  more  adequately  summed  up  than 
in  the  words  of  Warfield  :* — 

'  In  these  discourses,  too,  Jesus'  primary  task  is  to  bind  men 
to  Him  by  faith.  The  chief  difference  is  that  here,  consonantly 
with  the  nature  of  the  discourses  recorded,  much  more  prevail- 
ing stress  is  laid  upon  the  higher  aspects  of  faith,  and  we  see 
Jesus  striving  specially  to  attract  to  Himself  a  faith  consciously- 
set  upon  eternal  good.  In  a  number  of  instances  we  find  our- 
selves in  much  thesame  atmosphere  as  in  the  Synoptics  (421f.  481. 
93")  ;  and  the  method  of  Jesus  is  the  same  throughout.  Every- 
where He  offers  Himself  as  the  object  of  faith,  and  claims  faith 
in  Himself  for  the  highest  concerns  of  the  soul.  But  every- 
where He  begins  at  the  level  at  which  He  finds  His  hearers,  and 
leads  them  upward  to  these  higher  things.  It  is  so  that  He  deals 
with  Nathanael  (151)  and  Nicodemus  (31-)  ;  and  it  is  so  that  He 
deals  constantly  with  the  Jews,  everywhere  requiring  faith  in 
Himself  for  eternal  life  (521  25.  as  635-  ■)»■  ^^  73«  S^-i  lO-^s  m  i2«.  46), 
declaring  that  faith  in  Him  is  the  certain  outcome  of  faith  in 
their  own  Scriptures  (548  47),  is  demanded  by  the  witness  borne 
Him  by  God  in  His  mightv  works  (lO^S-  36. 37),  is  involved  in  and 
is  indeed  identical  with  faith  in  God  (625. 38  640.  45  847  1244),  and 
is  the  one  thing  which  God  requires  of  them  (629),  and  the 
failure  of  which  will  bring  them  eternal  ruin  (318  638  (pi  824). 
When  dealing  with  His  followers.  His  primary  care  was  to  build 
up  their  faith  in  Him.  Witness  especially  His  solicitude  for 
their  faith  in  the  last  hours  of  His  intercourse  with  them.  For 
the  faith  they  had  reposed  in  Him  He  returns  thanks  to  God 


passionate  eagerness  claiming  it  at  their  hands  (141- 1**.  11.  l-j. 
Even  afttr  His  resurrection  we  find  Him  restoring  the  faith  of 
the  waverer  (202")  with  words  which  pronounce  a  special  bless- 
ing on  those  who  should  hereafter  believe  on  less  compelling 
evidence— words  whose  point  is  not  fully  caught  until  we  realize 
that  they  contain  an  intimation  of  the  work  of  the  Apostles  as, 
like  His  own,  bringing  men  to  faith  in  Him  (1720-  21).' 

The  fundamental  position  of  faith  in  the  Chris- 
tian religion,  which  is  so  strikingly  expressed  and 
implied  throughout  the  whole  NT  "literature,  justi- 
fies the  distinction  of  the  old  and  new  covenants  as 
the  ages  before  and  after  the  '  cominj;  of  faith ' 
(Gal  3^-  25).  At  the  same  time  the  way  had  been 
prepared  for  this  historically  by  the  circumstances 
of  the  time.  The  more  the  fulfilment  of  Israel's 
national  hopes  by  special  Divine  interposition 
seemed  to  recede,  the  more  stress  was  laid  upon 
the  necessity  of  trust  and  faith  in  the  Divine  order- 
inj;  as  a  ielii;i(jus  diitv. 


FAITHFULNESS.— The  quality  of  being  faith- 
ful. •  l-'idi'lity,'  in  the  sense  of  trustworthiness,  is 
.■I  ,-ynu|l.^nl;  sd  also  'loyalty,'  'constancy.'  The 
I  la mu lit  1-  nut  primarily  of  belief  entertained 
(altli<iut;li  tli:it  is  hitent) ;  rather  of  right  conduct 
whioli,  rni.-iiiatiiii;  from  right  motive,  demands  and 
receivi-s  .(.nrnliMicc  and  approval.  Thus  George 
Eliot  {.S>"n,.  <;,j,.-:,j,x.)— 

'  The  cleepest  hunger  of  a  faithful  heart 
Is  faithfulness.* 

The  noun  does  not  occur  in  the  Gospels.  There 
is,  however,  allusion  to  those  in  whom  the  quality 
(wKTTdTTis)  is  conspicuous  ;  they  are  the  '  faithful ' 
{wKTTol)  of  Mt  '24«  25=1-  -\  Lk  12''2  le'""!-'— where  the 
word  TTiffri!  has  tlie  meaninj;  of  being  trustworthy  in 
the  discharge  of  duty.  It  is  their  conduct,  not 
their  creed,  to  which  attention  is  specially  directed. 
At  the  same  time  it  should  be  remarked  that  the 
ttio-tAtt;!  implied  (certainly  in  Mt  24''=  2521-23,  l^ 
1'2''2)  is  closely  bound  u]i  with  an  allegiance  owned 
and  recognized.  It  is  sui;uisti\c  of  faith  which, 
because  genuine,  comiHls  i,,  loyal  obedience,  and 
cannot  but  issue  in  works  (•  /.n /m  qui  n'agit point, 
cst-cc  nnc  foi  sincere  f'  Kacine).  The  trustjy  are 
the  trustful  (cf.  Lightfoot,  Gal.  p.  155)  ;  and  it  is 
precisely  those  who  feel  themselves  able  to  cling 
to  something  external  to  themselves  who  are  most 
solicitous  that  their  lives  should  be  spent  in  useful 
See  Faith.  H.  L.  Jackson. 


Revelation  (19IJ2),  p.  204  ff..  Christian  Char 
63  ff.;  G.  Ferries,  Grmnth  of  Christian  Faith 
mann.  Faith  and  Morals  (1904),  p.  7  ff.  See  a 
Doubt,  Justification,  Righteousness.  i 


FALL. — The  various  questions  suggested  in  re- 
gard to  the  relation  of  the  Fall  to  Jesus  Christ  may 
be  treated  under  the  following  heads  : 

i.  The  Messianic  element  in  the  story  of  the  Fall, 
ii.  The  Fall  in  its  bearing  on  the  work  of  Christ  in  (1)  the 

Incarnation,  (2)  its  redemptive  aspects, 
iii.  The  Fall  in  its  bearing  on  the  Person  of  Christ, 
iv.  Our  Lord's  own  teaching  (or  that  of  the  Gospels)  on  the 
Fall. 

i.  The  Me.ssianic  element  in  the  story  of 
THE  Fall. — It  is  not  within  the  scope  of  this 
Dictionary  to  discuss  the  general  character  of  the 
OT  narrative  of  the  Fall.  Wo  may  here  simjily 
assume  as  accepted  the  view  t'li.it  in  (In  .'i  we  lia\r 
an  account,  cast  in  the  pictorial  form  (  Iniractn  . 
istic  of  the  period  to  which  it  liclon^;s,  (.f  the  br-in- 
ning  of  human  sin,  with  its  attendant  evils  of 
suffering  and  death.  Whatever  opinion  may  be 
held  as  to  the  literary  materials  .and  composition 
of  the  narrative,  it  commends  itself  as  in  all  essen- 
tial features  a  unique  and  authoritative  record  of 
great  fundamental  facts  of  human  life  and  history  ; 
and  its  Divine  inspiration  is  sufficiently  attested 
by  the  profound  truthfulness  and  significance  of 
its  moral  and  religious  teaching. 

In  the  midst  of  this  story  of  sin  and  judgment 
we  find  the  fir.st  promise  of  restoration,  and  thus 
the  Divine  purpose  of  redemption  is  brought  into 
association  with  the  very  beginnings  of  human 
evil.  '  I  wll  put  enmity  between  thee  and  the 
woman,  and  between  thy  seed  and  her  seed :  it 
shall  bruise  thy  head,  and  thou  shalt  bruise  his 
heel'  (Gn  3").  That  this  utterance  contains  the 
germ  of  Messianic  prophecy  cannot  be  doubted  ; 
but  care  must  be  taken  to  make  neither  too  much 
nor  too  littleof  this  element  in  it,  and  to  interpret 
the  passage  in  accordance  with  sound  principles  of 
historical  exegesis,  with  due  reference  to  the^  con- 
text, and  to  the  general  characteristics  of  (JT  ]iro- 
l.herv.  The  enriiodiment  .if  this  Prntn;,„!)dii<m 
ill  th'e  iniinilive  reli-ion^  trailition,  .-in.l  in  tlie  in- 
spire,! i  rr,,nl  ol  ii ,  i- .i  1,-tinionvlo  the  fact  that 
ihe  |ii\iiie  ].\n|"ise  oi  re. lenipt ion  is  coeval  with 
ilie  exi^ienie  (it  linman  sin.  From  the  time  when 
I  he  eoiisrlon-ness  of  guilt  aud  corruption  first 
dawned  in  I  lie  human  heart,  there  was  also  present 
the  hope  of  iistoration,  and  of  man's  ultimate 
triuuiph  over  those  powers  of  evil  by  which  he  liad 


FALL 


been  temporarOy  vanquished.  This  is  the  germ  of 
which  all  the  redemptive  promise  and  prophecy  of 
the  OT  are  the  development.  Three  progressive 
ideas  may  be  traced  in  tlie  teaching  of  the  passage. 

(1)  Under  the  symbolism  of  the  repulsion  with 
which  the  serpent  species  is  regarded,  there  is  con- 
veyed the  truth  that  there  would  be  continual  and 
deadly  conflict  between  the  human  race  and  the 
powers  of  i'\  il,  eaih  seeking  to  destroy  tlie  otlier. 

(2)  The  hopiful  element  in  the  struggle  i.s  indi- 
cated, anil  mans  linal  victory  suggested,  by  the 
specific  way  in  wliiclx  the  conflict  is  described—'  It 
shall  bruise  thy  head,  and  thou  shalt  bruise  his 
heel.'  (3)  There  underlies  the  statement  with  re- 
gard to  mankind  in  general  the  remoter  and  deeper 
significance  applicable  to  the  representative  Man, 
in  and  tlrrough  whom  the  warfare  was  to  be  brouglit 
to  a  crisis  and  a  victorious  issue. 

The  order  of  these  points  may  also  be  taken  as 
indicating  the  line  along  which  the  full  meaning  of 
the  saying  would  unfold  itself.  It  is  one  of  those 
pregnant  utterances  of  revelation  whose  content  is 
gradually  realized  and  defined  by  the  progress  of 
events.  The  Messianic  ideas  contained  in  it  are  as 
yet  vague  and  general,  yet  real ;  rudimentary,  but 
fundamental ;  implicit  rather  than  explicit ;  yet 
enough  to  keep  a  spark  of  hope  alive,  and  to  inspire 
faith  and  effort  till  clearer  light  came  in  the  provi- 
dential unfolding  of  God's  redemptive  plan. 

ii.  The  Fall  in  relation  to  the  work  of 
Christ. — The  fact  of  man's  fallen  condition,  of 
which  the  narrative  of  Gn  3  is  the  historical  ex- 
planation, is  the  raison  d'etre  of  redemption,  and 
thus  the  Fall  is  very  closely  related  to  the  whole 
work  of  Christ  at  every  point.  But  it  is  witli  tlie 
effects  rather  than  with  the  manner  or  history  of 
tlie  Fall  that  the  gospel  is  supremely  conienieil, 
and  after  the  story  has  once  for  all  been  >:iven  at 
the  beginning  of  revelation,  it  is  thereafter  but 
little  referred  to  in  Scripture,  and  is  scarcely 
ever  brought  into  direct  relation  A\itli  redemption, 
except  in  two  classical  passages  in  the  \v  ritings  of 
St.  Paul,  viz.  in  Ro  5  and  1  Co  15.  Our  attention 
will  here  be  confined  to  those  points  in  which  the 
Fall  comes  into  more  direct  relation  with  the  work 
of  Christ,  or  in  which  the  fall  of  man  in  Adam  and 
his  restoration  in  Christ  serve  to  illuminate  each 
other. 

1.  The  relation  of  the  Fall  to  the  Incarnation. 
—The  question  here  raised  is  between  the  two 
views  expressed  respectively  by  the  words  of 
Augustine,  '  Si  homo  nan  pecasset,  Jilius  Dei  non 
esset  incamatus,' a,nd  of  Andreas  Osiander, '  Etiamsi 
homo  non  pecasset.  Dens  tamen  incarnatiis  esset  licet 
non  crucifixus.'  The  common  belief  has  hitherto 
been  that  tlie  whole  mission  and  work  of  Christ 
were  solely  conditioned  by  the  Fall.  But  the  other 
view  with  regard  to  the  Incarnation,  maintained 
by  the  Scotists  in  the  Middle  Ages  and  by  other 
distinguished  thinkers,  has  of  late  gained  fresh 
currency,  especially  in  connexion  with  modern 
evolutionary  philosophy.  The  relation  of  the  Fall 
to  the  Incarnation  determines  the  place  of  the 
latter  in  the  plan  of  redemption,  and  opens  up  the 
question  whether  the  Incarnation  was  subsidiary 
to  the  Atonement,  or  the  Atonement  a  develop- 
ment and  modification  of  the  Incarnation. 

(i.)  The  view  that  an  Incarnation  was,  independ- 
ently of  sin,  the  consummation  of  God's  purpose 
in  relation  to  mankind,  has  been  supported  by  argu- 
ments which  can  here  only  be  briefly  mentioned. 

(a)  The  metaphysical  arq- 


FALL 


even  apart  from  sin,  would  have  found  its  issu 
The  Mediator  is  necessary  for  the  perfecting  of  the  world  no  less 
tlian  for  its  redeniption,  and  has  a  cosmical  sit<nitieance  wider 
and  deeper  than  His  work  as  Redeemer. 

(f)  As  Christ  is  necessary  for  the  world's  perfection,  the 
Incarnation  may  be  held  to  be  involved  in  the  'eternal  idea  of 
the  world.'  This  is  the  counterpart  of  the  preceding  argu- 
ments, and  is  as  old  as  Irenceus.  It  means  that  man  has  in  his 
very  nature  a  need  and  a  capacity  for  Christ,  corresponding  to 
God's  stlf-comniunicating  love,  and  this  quite  apart  from  sin. 

(d)  To  base  the  incarnation  solely  on  the  need  of  redemption, 
is  to  make  Christ  a  means  and  not  an  end  in  Himself,  or,  in  more 
modern  language,  to  reduce  the  most  glorious  manifestation  of 
God  for  the  perfecting  of  humanity  to  an  expedient  contingent 
upon  the  untoward  incident  of  sin.  In  Christ  alone,  as  the 
centre  and  end,  is  the  highest  possible  for  man  reaUzed  ;  if  this 
were  dependent  on  the  Fall,  then  sin  would  be  a  ^felix  cttlpa '  in 


W 


.vhat  speculative  lines  of  reasonin; 


,  least 


reasonmg 

-es  as  Col  1 


■  the  1 


(ethical,  not  m 

feet  self-comm 

(i)  The  very 


presented  i 
all  creation,' in  whom  and  (^i^M  1,  n'  created, 

in  whom  all  things  hold  lo-rtl;.  i,     i   1   ■  i-  I !;]■  -  also  'the 

head  of  the  body,  tlu  (  .i  ;,.  ,;,.i  iip  ui-tl-au  from  the 
dead.'  It  was  God's  etiin  1  |  ii|.  ..  ti  -mi.  u].  ;ill  things  in 
Christ,'  'in  whom  also  w  .  ,,  l  r.  ii;,i  In  li'  iilju'  ('  t.  also  Jn  !•', 
Hel2,  lCo8S,  RevSUit..).  l;,.i.  jni.tiua  i-  l„  re  presented  as 
somethinsf  which  forms  a  harmonions  i»art  uf  a  larger  plan. 
Christ  is  at  once  the  Alpha  and  the  Omega,  the  medium  and  the 
end  of  creation,  the  beginning  and  the  consummation  of  God's 
eternal  purpose. 

(ii.)  The  commonly  received  view  that  the  Incar- 
nation is  simply  a  neces.sary  part  of  the  work  of 
redemption,  is  supported  by  the  priiiuc  facie  teach- 
ing of  Scripture.  '  The  Son  of  man  came  to  seek 
and  to  save '  (Lk  19'°) ;  '  God  sent  forth  his  Son 
.  .  .  that  he  might  redeem'  (Gal  4«.).  These  are 
examples  of  innumerable  passages  which  represent 
the  mission  of  Christ  in  this  light.  But  to  this  it 
may  be  answered  that,  though  historically  and 
actually  the  Incarnation  has  taken  this  redemptive 
aspect,  and  is  naturally  and  properly  so  presented 
in  the  Gospel,  another  view  of  it,  under  different 
conditions,  is  not  excluded,  of  which,  as  we  have 
seen,  ^\■e  are  in  fact  permitted  brief  glimpses  in  a 
wider  field  of  vision. 

(iii.)  Both  the  foregoing  \'iews  may  be  united 
and  harmonized  in  what  is  really  the  truest  and 
deepest  conception,  viz.  that  God's  purimse  is  an 
eternal  and  unchangeable  unity,  and  every  part  of 
it,  as  wrought  out  in  history,  must  be  regarded  as 
having  its  proper  place  in  relation  to  the  whole. 
It  is  by  a  misunderstanding  of  the  absolute  being 
and  counsels  of  God  that  we  discuss  at  all  questions 
as  to  what  might  have  been  done  under  other  con- 
ditions. The  view  of  the  question  liefore  us  whidi 
is  most  worthy  of  a  true  conception  of  God,  and 
which  at  the  same  time  agrees  with  the  broad 
teaching  of  Scripture,  is  that  in  the  infinite  coun- 
sels of  Him  who  sees  the  end  from  the  beginning, 
KedemptioiL  i-^  \vrouL;lit  into  the  very  fabric  of 
God's  eternal  i^iuijio^e,  .-ill  parts  of  which — Crea- 
tion, Redemption,  liu.-u nation.  Atonement,  the 
Final  Consummation,  li.mu  lo-ether  harmoni- 
ously as  integral  an.l  rem  luteal  elements  in  one 
homogeneous,  perfect,  and  lURhangeable  unity. 
The  question  as  to  the  relation  of  the  Fall  to  the 
Incarnation  thus  resolves  itself  into  that  of  the 
place  of  the  Fall  in  God's  plan  of  the  world  ;  and 
we  need  not  hold  with  hyper-Calvinists  that  sin 
was  foreordained,  in  onlei'to  believe  that  the  Fall, 
foreseen  and  i)ern)itte<l,  enters  into  an  intimate 
and  essential  relation  to  the  whole  of  the  Divine 
pl.m.  Til  tlii^  jilan  Incarnation  holds  a  central 
)ila.  o,  .111,1  it-  1.  ileiiiptive  significance  is  one  aspect 
of  a  wilier  11  lation  to  the  world,  as  the  means  for 
//., 7- .  (■(/,(/  a--  well  as  for  redeeming  the  Imman 
rue.  This  view  preserves  the  place  of  Redemption 
I  the  foreground  of  God's  revealed  plan,  avoids 

le  necessity  of  conceiving  any  change  in  the 
!  'i\ine  purpose  contingent  upon  sin,  and  at  the 
same    time  gives  the   Incarnation    that  cosmical 


PALL 

significance  worthy  of  its  transcendent  character. 
Thus  Christ  is  central  and  supreme,  and  the  whole 
scheme  of  Redemption  is  presented  in  a  true  per- 
spective, more  in  harmony  witli  the  requirements 
of  modern  thought. 

2.  The  relation  of  the  Fall  to  the  redemptive 
work  of  Christ.-  In  thr  distinitiM'ly  soteriological 
aspects  of  Christ's  wmk,  we  are  hiouglit  at  once 
into  close  relation  to  the  I'all.  We  have  here 
to  consider  (i.)  tlie  reality  and  general  nature  of 
the  Fall,  as  seen  in  the  light  of  Kedemption  ;  and 
(ii.)  the  main  points  of  detail  in  which  the  Fall  an<l 
the  redeeming  work  of  Christ  explain  and  illustrate 
each  other. 

(i.)  The  doctrine  of  the  Fall  is  vital  to  the  Chris- 
tian system  ;  the  reality  and  general  nature  of  the 
Fall,  as  a  great  downward  and  letrourade  step  in 
thehistoryofiii.iiikiii.l.Mi.M-onliiiiieihin.lillustniteil 
hy  the  redeni]iti-.e  «..ik  ol  Clni-.l.  This  :is|,r(t  of 
Christ's  work,  uhirl,  ocniiiies  iii  Srri|iiuie  the  foiv- 
niost  place,  is  cvciywheie  reiuusuuted  as  reuUeicd 
necessary  by  something  grievously  abnormal  in  the 
condition  of  the  human  race.  1  he  Scripture  doc- 
trine of  sin  as  ab.solute  evil ;  man's  universal  sin- 
fulness, helplessness,  and  state  of  spiritual  death, 
which  form  the  very  basis  of  Bedemption  ;  the 
representation  of  mankind  as  '  lost,'  '  alienated ' 
from  God,  and  yet  capable  and  worthy  of  being 
redeemed  and  restored  ;-  all  this,  as  so  abundantly 
presented  and  ein|iliiir,i/,ed  in  connexion  with  the 
atoning  worl;  of  (lui-f,  .lilordsthe  strongest  con- 
firmation of  tlie  cloctiine  that  man  has  faflen  from 
a  higher  condition.  Whatever  may  be  said  as  to 
the  Incarnation  (see  1,  above),  it  is  clear  that  the 
great  outstanding  fact  of  the  iVtonement,  with  all 
the  suffering  and  sacrifice  which  it  involved,  can 
only  be  accounted  for  at  once  by  the  dignity  and 
the  degradation  of  man, — in  other  words,  by  the 
Fall. 

(ii.)  This  is  borne  ont  liy  the  more  specific  teach- 
ing in  regard  to  the  I'nl!  in  its  relation  to  the  work 
of  Christ  in  Ko  .V-  '  ,iimI  I  Co  1521- -■  «-49.  The 
general  and  clear  liu<'  of  argument  in  the  former 
passage  brings  ovit  the  following  points  ; 

Adam's  act  of  disobedience  involved  all  men  in 
(a)  Sin,  and  (b)  Death.  By  sin  is  here  meant  both 
actual  sinfulness  ('  for  that  all  sinned,'  v.'-),  and  a 
condition  of  liability  to  penalty  e^■en  apart  from 
personal  transgressitiu  (^ .").  'Phis  hitter,  however, 
IS  not  to  be  held  in  any  -.n-.^  :i-  ]Hi^onal  participa- 
tion in  or  responsibility  for  Ailam  s  ollenee,  though 
it  is  the  transmitted  effeet  ot  it  (see  below).  Death 
here  apparently  means  pliysical  death  in  the  first 
place  (as  in  v.'^),  but  most  probably  includes  also 
spiritu.al  death.  On  the  other  hand,  though  the 
analogy  is  not  fully  expressed,  it  is  clearly  implied 
that  in  tlie  -■.[\w-  \\ay  Christ's  act  of  obedience 
brings  (rO  .lii-tilir:ilion  and  (b)  Life;  an<l  in  view 
of  the  eiiipii.-itie  reiteration,  in  various  forms,  of  the 
surpassing  fulness  of  Bedemption  in  vv.i^-i',  we 
may  include  under  these  terms :  negatively,  de- 
liverance from  guilt,  from  sin  itself,  and  from 
death ;  and  positively,  the  bcstowment  of  judicial 
and  actual  righteousness,  and  of  spiritual  and 
eternal  life. 

Another  question  raised  in  this  connexion  is 
concerned    with    the    ]jrecise    moral    relationship 


FALL 


573 


between  Ada 
and  between  Ch 
Adam  and  Cliri 
presented  as  st.n 
mankind,  forniin 
versal  sin  and  il 
tion  for  belie\er 
variously  held   (1)  that 


eiity  on  the  one  hand, 
^  people  on  the  other. 
■I'ond  Adam ')  are  re- 
aiialogons  relation  to 
in  the  one  ease  of  uni- 
I  the  otlier  of  restora- 
d  to  Adam  it  has  been 
ielation  between  him 


and  his  posterity  was  virtually  one  of  identity; 
mankind   sinned  in  him  and  therefore  share  his 


guilt ;   (2)   that  the  relation 


IS  representative  or 


federal,  Adam  acting  on  behalf  of  his  descendants  ; 
and  (3)  that  the  relation  is  nnturril,  the  evil  efl'ects 
of  Adam's  f/ill  lieing  conniiunieated  to  the  race 
through  the  ordinary  channels  of  heredity.  The 
third  view  ]. reserves  any  elements  ot  truth  in  the 
other  two,  «liil,.  it  h,-st' explains  the  fa.-ts  in  har- 
mony with  true  etl,ir:il  prill. ■iple,-^.    Tlietnmsmitted 

moral  halaiiee.  :iii  inhorii  teiideiiry  of  heart  and 
will  towards  evil,  .a  ili.sdhUitii,  though  not  a  total 
inability,  for  gocjdness.  Though  men  are  not  per- 
sonally hnplieated  in  the  guilt  of  Adam's  trans- 
gression, their  eon(lition  involves  demerit  and 
necessitates  redemption.*  Turning  to  the  other 
side,  though  we  are  not  warranted  in  carrying  the 
analogy  too  far,  we  find  on  the  part  of  Christ'(l)  a 
relation  of  identify  ivith  the  race  through  the  In- 
eani:ilioii  ;  CJi  a  representative  or  covenant  relation 
with  His  ]ico|i|e  (see  2  Co  5-'  etc.),  based  on  the  one 
side  on  CoilV  tree  grace,  and  on  the  other  on 
believers'  v,,hnil  .iry  n,ee"ptaiiep  of  it  (Bo  5") ;  and 
(3)  a  nlul  ,nnni,  I'.etwec.n  Clirisl  and  believers  by 
whieli  new  life  is  ini|iiirleil  .-iiiil  the  evil  effects  of 
the  Fail  eounteiaeted  (.In  I.V' et,-. ). 

Christ  is  thus  a  new  beginning  for  the  fallen 
race,  a  fountain  of  life  and  righteousness,  as  Adam 
was  of  death  and  sin.  Adam  was  a  true  '  figure  of 
him  that  was  to  come,'  a  type  based  not  on  mere 
analogy,  b>it  on  deep  and  real  correspondences 
between  his  relation  as  '  psychical '  parent  to  his 
natural  descendants,  and  Christ's  relation  to  His 
people  as  the  'second  Adam,'  the  'spiritual'  ori- 
ginator of  a  regenerated  race.f 

iii.  The  Fall  in  relation  to  the  Person  of 
Christ. — The  Fall  of  Adam,  as  we  have  seen,  in- 
troduced into  the  nature  of  all  descended  from  him 
a  fatal  taint  of  sin,  an  insuperable  moral  dis- 
ability. The  question  now  before  us  is,  How  did 
Jesus  Christ,  the  new  Adam,  as  a  true  member  of 
the  fallen  race,  escape  this  evil  influence?  That 
Christ  in  His  nature  and  Person  was  absolutely 
free  from  sin,  is  one  of  the  clearest  and  most  gener- 
ally admitted  as  well  as  most  vital  facts  of  the 
gospel.  Born  into  the  world  in  the  line  of  human 
<leseent,  sinning  Iniman  nature  otherwise  in  its 
fulness,  liow  ^\  as  .Tesus  alone  unafi'ected  by  the 
conunon  lieril;ige  of  sin  ? 

The  full  answer  to  this  question  lies  hidden  in 
the  mystery  of  the  Incarnation  ;  but  an  indicaticm 
ot  the  line  m  which  the  solution  lies  is  jriven  in  the 
great  fact  of  the  "Virgin  Birth  of  our  Lord.  The 
historical  reality  of  this  pint  of  the  Gospel  narra- 
tive has  been  assailed  by  modern  eriticism,  but  the 
doctrine  still  retains  its  pla.  i-  in  tin-  best  philosophy 
of  the  Incarnation,  ami  tin-  truth  has  been  rather 
confirmed  than  otherwise  by  impartial  study  of  the 
records.  As  a  fact,  the  biith  of  .lesus  in  a  super- 
natural manner  connnends  itself  as  peculiarly  in 
keejiing  with  the  whole  sehenie  of  redemption.  (1) 
It  indicates  a  new  departure,  a  fresh  beginning, 
the  introduction  into  the  human  race  of  a  new 
element,  and  marks  a  break  in  the  normal  and 
fatal  continuity  of  s))iritual  helplessness  and  decay. 
(2)  It  suggests,  tlmuuh  it  does  not  fully  explain, 
means  by  whirh  1  In  i-i  .  onld  become  true  man  and 
yet  be  preserxiil  from  tin'  hereditaiy  efl'ects  of  the 
Fall.  '  The  Holy  t  ihost  shall  come  upon  thee,  and 
the  power  of  the  Most  High  shall  overshadow  thee  : 
wherefore  also  that  which  is  to  be  born  shall  he 
called  holy,  the  Son  of  God'  (Lk  l^).  Those  who 
deny  the  Virgin  Birth  have  still  to  explain  the 
etiually  miraculous  fact  of  the  appearance  of  this 
single  exce])tion  to  the  universal  sinfulness  of 
mankind.     The  manner  of  Christ's  birth,  as  re- 

*Note  if<«  .-      .    ill    r-     '■■•    .11.1    -•   .  rT«a«,  ^«.pi?xri!  in 


574 


FALSE  CHRISTS 


FALSE  CHRISTS 


corded  in  the  Gospels  of  iMt.  and  Lk.,  is  so  fully  in 
harmony  with  His  unique  personality  and  charac- 
ter, that,  though  we  cannot  fully  understand,  -we 
may  at  least  be  satisfied  that  all  form  parts  of  one 
Divine  plan,  and  thus  the  moral  miracle  and  the 
physical  mutually  support  one  another.  See  art. 
VIRGIN  Birth. 

iv.  The  Teaching  of  Christ  and  of  the 
Gospels  on  the  Fall. — Our  Lord  makes  no  refer- 
ence to  the  story  of  the  Fall  in  all  His  recorded 
teaching.  His  only  allusion  to  our  first  parents 
at  all  Ming  the  general  statement  in  connexion 
with  marriage  (ilt  Iff*,  Mk  W).  But  the  doctrine 
of  the  Fall  underlies  the  whole  teaching  of  Christ 
on  sin  and  redemption,  and  is  particularly  con- 
firmed and  illustrated  in  the  following  points  : 

(1)  The  universal  sinftdness  of  vuxn.  This  is 
taken  for  granted.  '  If  ye  then,  being  evil,  know,' 
etc.  (Mt  7",  Lk  11").  This  truth  is  involved  in  the 
whole  character  of  our  Lord's  mission  and  teaching. 
See  also  Jn  V^  9.  (2)  The  inwardness  of  sin. 
'  Out  of  the  heart  come  forth  evil  thoughts,'  etc. 
'.  .  .  These  are  the  things  which  defile  the  man '  (Mt 
loi'-^andll).  Cf.  also  Mt  5=i-28,  Mk  10=,  Lk  6«. 
(3)  Tlie  deep  radical  character  of  human  evil.  '  Ye 
must  be  T)om  anew '  (Jn  3'  and  v.^).  (4)  The 
hereditary  disability  of  human  nature.  'That 
which  is  bom  of  the  flesh  is  flesh,'  etc.  (Jn  3"^ ;  cf. 
1'^).  (5)  Jesus  everywhere  indicates  clearly  His 
view  as  to  the  original  dignity  and  value  of  man. 
'  AVhat  shall  a  man  be  profited,  if  he  shall  gain  the 
wliole  world,  and  forfeit  his  life?'  (Mt  IS^).  Cf. 
Lk  1-5^",  Mt  12",  etc.  ;  and  the  general  teaching  of 
Jesus  as  to  the  Fatherhood  of  God.  (6)  The  Fall 
may  be  said  to  be  pictured  for  us  more  specifically 
in  the  parable  of  the  Prodigal  Son  (Lk  lo""-),  and 
the  corresponding  parables  of  the  Lost  Sheep  and 
the  Lost  Piece  of  Money  in  the  .siime  chapter. 
(7)  Generally  the  whole  mission  of  Christ  to  ransom 
men  (Mk  10«),  to  save  (Mt  1=',  Lk  W  etc.),  and 
to  restore  to  Divine  Sonship  (Jn  1'=),  is  founded 
upon  the  doctrine  of  the  Fall  and  the  state  of  ruin 
resulting'  from  it,  coniliincd  with  splendid  possi- 
bilitit■^  'if  i-r~t.ir:i;inii  ilii"ii;_li  u'race. 


On.^dain  and  CiiitaL.  J^.  i.ai.v  ^i.  i  m  -ist*- 

matic  Theoloiry,  such  as  Dorner.  Ik" I _  I  /.  (c  ; 

Fairbairti,  Chn^  in  Modem  Theolo'j  11, un, 

Roinamion  5'--2i).  and  other  jiood  <  l;la", 

.Vr  TIi^'jIo;iii,  %o1.  ii. 

On  Viiviii  Hirth  and  Sinlessness  of  ChtiJM  .  .^  !■.  ' 

Leclurex:  Core,  Bnwjirmi  lectures:  ail  ccilidl  I..  i     >. 

Gritlith-Jom-s.  .i.-v,„r  fArr^tjA  CAmt;  and  for  I  r  i: 

ay,  iVa^  Chrigt  born  af  /. 
all  good  treatises,  siuh   i,  \\',:<.it  ., 
V,  as  those  of  Weiss  and  ltevschla■^ 
J.   E.  MOUAT. 

FALSE  CHRISTS — The  term  i^ei.Sixpwoi  or 
pseudo-Christs  occius  only  in  Mk  13-  (cf.  13«)  = 
Mt  242'  ((.f  245).  Despite  its  omission  in  Mk.  by 
D,  etc.,  it  probably  belongs  to  the  original  t-gxt  of 
the  eschatologicaf  discourse. 


of  Lukes  iiarr.-itive.  Ham: 

On  Christ  s  tuiichin',' : 

and  works  on  NT  Theolo" 


forms  one  of  the  sections  i 


But  this   discourse 
the  Synoptic  narrative 


which  are  snecially  permeated  by  reflexions  of  the 
Apostolic  Church  ;  and  even  after  a  small  Jewish 
or  Jewish-Christian  apocalypse  has  been  disen- 
tangled from  the  discourse,  the  remaining  logir(, 
of  which  this  forms  one,  require  to  l)e  carefully 
scrutinized.  They  do  not  belong  to  the  primitive 
tradition  of  Christ's  sayings.  Over  them  lie  traces 
of  the  exiieriences  of  the  early  Christians  during' 
the  latter  half  of  the  seventh  deca<le  in  Palestine, 
when  the  political  convulsion  of  the  country  w:is 
accompanied  by  religious  agitation  and  inonil 
crises  of  a  strange  nature.    The  1st  cent,  of  our  era 


was  full  of  unrest  for  the  Jews  of  Palestine.  As 
the  pages  of  Josephus  testify,  one  rival  Messiah 
followed  another,  each  and  all  succeeding  more 
or  less  in  kindling  the  pas-sions  of  the  people 
against  the  Roman  authorities.  These  popular 
leaders  of  revolt  worked  on  the  religious  feeling 
of  the  nation.  Messianic  fanaticism  became  un- 
controllable, and  enthusiasts  seduced  the  ardent  Ijy 
semi -political  hopes  (cf.  Sehiirer,  HJP  I.  ii.  §  20, 
and  Volz,  Jiid.  Esckatologie,  209-210). 

If  the  words  'in  my  name'  (Mk  13^=Mt  24') 
mean  'in  the  name  of  Jesus,'  it  is  difficult  to 
understand  them.  For  it  is  hard  to  think  of  any 
Christians  claiming  to  be  Jesus.  Christian  false 
prophets  there  might  be,  and  were,  but  we  have 
no  evidence  dnving  the  1st  cent,  of  pretenders  to 
the  name  of  Jesus.  False  Christs  m  this  sense 
of  the  term  are  scarcely  credible,  though  later 
ages  have  furnished  specimens  of  the  type,  as, 
e.g.,  among  some  of  the  followers  of  George  Fo.x 
the  Quaker,  who  was  himself  accused  of  claiming 
to  be  Christ.  Either,  then,  we  must  suppose  that 
the  phrase  '  in  my  name '  has  been  inserted  by  the 
Evangelists  in  order  to  stamp  as  Christian  what 
was  originally  a  JeAvish  prediction,  or  the  phra,se 
must  be  taken  as  equivalent  to  '  in  the  name  of 
Mes.siah,'  as  is  implied  in  '  I  am  he.'  False  Christs 
would  thus  be  equivalent  to  false  ilessiahs  (so  Mk 
13-\  Mt  24^),  and  the  logion  would  be  a  warning 
against  the  claims  and  pretensions  of  the  numerous 
impostors  who  swarmed  in  Palestine  down  to  the 
days  of  Bar  Cochba  (131-135  A.D.),  their-  last  repre- 
sentative. It  is  in  the  light  of  this  retrospect  tliat 
Justin  Martyr  (about  155  A.D.)  quotes  this  saying 
in  his  Dialogue  (82.  308  C)  thus :  '  Our  Lord  said 
many  false  prophets  and  false  Christs  would  come 
in  His  name  and  ileceive  many  ;  which  is  the  case.' 
The  false  iinj]ihets,  of  course,  are  the  heralds  of  the 
false  .Mes>-ialis  ;  tliey  guarantee  the  movement  in 
qmstiiiii  liy  iilclii-;  of  miracles.  But  occasionally 
a  fiil-r  M(  ~-i,ili  iiKiv  have  been,  as  Theudas  was, 
a  fal~.'  jiicpli.  t  I-  Well.  The  Didache,  curiously 
enouL;h,  nmit^  all  mention  of  false  Messiahs, 
though  it  notices  the  danger  of  false  prophets 
(xvi.  3 ;  cf.,  however,  what  is  said  in  xvi.  4  alx)Ut 
the  appearing  of  the  world-deceiver  as  Son  of  God). 

The  locale  of  the  false  Messiahs  (Mt  24=«)  is 
either  the  wilderness  (cf.  Ac  21^),  as  in  the  case 
of  Simon  son  of  Gioras,  or  the  inner  chambers, 
as  in  the  case  of  John  of  Giscala  (cf.  1  K  20**) — 
alluding  possibly  to  the  current  idea  that  the 
Messiah  was  to  remain  hidden  for  some  time  pre- 
vious to  His  appearance  in  public.  But  whetlier 
the  one  or  the  other  happened  to  be  chosen,  the 
salient  point  is  that  in  either  case  the  elect  are 
I"  be  kept  right  by  a  wholesome  scepticism. 
•  ( 'Iiristians,  at  Israel's  great  crisis,  were  to  be 
..'('(•rf  by  unbelief  in  pseudo- Messiahs  and  pseudo- 
prophets'  {Expos.  Crr.  Test.  i.  294).  The  situation 
would  also  raanife.st  the  difl'erence  between  cre- 
dulity and  faith.  Desperate  situations  foster  an 
avid  appetite  for  deliverance,  which  is  too  often 
indiflerent  Ui  \\\'-  |iaifirul.-a-  qualitj'  of  the  aid 
oflered.  But  tni  li  1,.  ,  p-  it-  head.  Belief  in  Christ 
imparts  a  saiiii\  nf  jmluiiient  which  makes  men 
cool  eA'en  in  lun  i -iik  ir-.  Finall}',  there  is  the 
thought  that  miracles  of  themselves  are  no 
guarantee  of  Divine  authority. 

Tlie  allusion  in  Jn  5"  may  be,  but  is  not  neces- 
sarily, to  a  single  anti-Christ  or  pseudo-Christ, 
who,  however,  comes  in  his  own  name  (cf.  Loisy, 
Lc  Quatriime  Evangile,  p.  416).  Neitlier  here  nor 
in  Rev  13"  20'"  have  we  to  do  with  an  epitome  or 
individual  incarnation  of  the  deceivers  foretold  in 
the  Synoptic  narrative.  The  jilane  of  tliought  is 
at  once  later  and  different. 


FALSE  PROPHETS 


FALSE  WITNESS 


5V5 


V.  H.  Stanton,  The  Go&pcls  as  Uisloi-ical  Documents,  i.  125  ; 
Keini,  Jesus  of  Nazara,  v.  238  f. ;  and  Bousset,  The  Antichrist 
Legend,  p.  103f.  J.  MoFFATT. 


FALSE  PROPHETS.— 1.  For  the  understanding- 
of  this  expression  in  the  NT,  we  must  correctly 
apprehend  tlie  character  of  the  false  prophets  oft/ir 
Of.  To  earlier  writers  these  men  were  essentially 
and  consciously  false,  either  prophets  of  false  gods, 
holders  of  opinions  which  did  not  agree  witli  tin' 
revealed  character  of  Jehovah  the  God  of  Israel, 
or  men  wlio  knowingly  spoke  falsehoods  in  tlir 
name  of  Jehovah.  Modern  biblical  science  takes 
a  more  lenient  view.  It  does  not  deny  the  exist- 
ence of  such  as  either  possible  or  actual  (Jer  2*, 
Ezk  13'""),  though  in  the  matter  of  creed  many  of 
them  were  jirolwlily  '  syncretistic '  rather  tlian 
simply  'anti-Jclin\  i~tic  ■  (A.  B.  Davidson).  The 
majority  may  Iw  rcuuidol  rather  as  men  acoiis- 
tomed  to  the  out\\:ii4  ,-imi>  of  the  prophetic  ofhcc, 
the  hairy  mantle  (Zee  VA\  cf.  1  K  IQ'"),  the 
methods  of  projphetic  instruction  (Jer  28'°),  and  the 
use  of  the  prophetic  formula,  '  Thus  saith  Jehovah ' 
(Jer  23"- 3',  Ezk  13'^),  but  who  had  never  come 
under  the  influence  of,  or  had  failed  to  remain  in 
personal  contact  with,  the  revealing  Spirit  '  who 
spake  by  the  prophets.'  Hence  the  message  they 
gave  was  merely  one  that  was  agreeable  to  the 

common   thought    of   (In-    ] [ile,   wliitlier   it   cini 

cerned  the  internal  r..ii.liliuii  ;iiiil  life  (.f  Ihe  ii:il  ii.n 
or  its  relation  til  s\iii()iiiiiliii,u  Slales.  It  was  ynn 
cipally  in  the  later  jirdplietic  iieiiml  (.1  Mii^ali. 
Jeremiah,  and  Zechariah  that  tliese  ]iri)|iliei,  ni 
smooth  things,  subject  to  no  true  .■unl  |ii\iia' 
revelation,  came  to  be  regarded  as  |inii(-^i.,M  il 
tricksters,  making  a  living  out  of  their  fal-e  pre 
dictions  (Mic  3=,  Zee  13'-  ■■).  I!ut  whether  from  the 
desire  of  gain  or  of  |iiililic  la\oiir,  tliese  false 
prophets  expressed  the  o|.'iiiii-i  ir.  x\  h.-it  would  be 
regarded  as  the  patritjtii-.  \ie\\  <il  the  stale  and 
future  of  their  country,  ami  Imm-  Iie.-n  desiribed 
as  'nationalistic  rather  than  lal-e.  Ii  i-  i  lii>  oijiim- 
istic,  nationalist  outlook  tliat  |iaiiirnl;nly  e\]il.'iins 
the  reference  in  Lk  6-''.  'in  the  .-ana'  laanner  ili'l 
their  fathers  (speak  -well)  to  the  tal-c  |iio|iliel-.' 
The  false  prophets,  ,as  .li'.larin-  tie'  tliin--  llie 
nation  \vished  to  hear,  iiatuially  sueeeeileil  in 
gaining  general  approval  and  eredeiiee.  This  is 
particularly  shown  in  Jer  6""'*  and  Mic  2",  and  is 
confirmed  by  instances,  not  a  few,  in  which  the 
apparently  unpatriotic  attitvule  of  the  true  prophet, 


false 


|.slll(( 


compared  w 

in  disfavour  and  e\'en  in  |ieise.  ul  ion  (I   K' '_''_!', '-M'li 

16'»,    Jer    20=).        It      W.-,s     the      fal-.'      |.ro|,l,el,      lepve 

senting  the  nation.'!  1  'wish  that  i-  latlier  to  the 
thought,'  of  whom  'all  ine]i  s|ioke  well.  (Ini 
Lord  therefore  takes  snrh  a.^  i.Npes  oi  th;it  ill 
deserved  general  appro\al  whieh  may  he  won  hy 
flatteiy,  by  concealnieiit  of  the  tiutli.  hy  the 
denying  or  minimizing  of  danger  and  of  retribu- 
tion :  methods  denied  to  those  who  '  are  of  the 
truth.'  This  view  of  false  prophecy  as  the  saying 
of  things  men  wish  to  hear  '  for  the  hire  of  wrong- 
doing,' is  to  be  discerned  in  2  P  2'^'-,  where  the  false 
prophet  is  the  analogue  of  the  false  teacher,  him- 
self guilty  of  'lascivious  doings'  (cf.  vv."-'"  for  the 
character  of  this  teaching). 

2.  The  false  2>rophets  in  the  Christian  Church.— 
In  the  NT  as  in  the  OT,  the  prophetic  ministry 
must  be  regarded  in  its  two  branches  as  interpre- 
tative of  God's  mind  and  as  predictive.  False 
nihets  of  both  these  classes  -were  to  be  expected 
le  Christian  community.  To  grasp  the  signili 
c.'ince  of  the  warnings  against  these  men,  the 
importance  of  prophecy  in  NT  times  must  be 
borne  in  mind.  Prophecy  was  a  more  importiint 
gift  than  toneues  (1  Co  14),  and  the  prophet  is 
in  the  list  of  oiiicers  associated  with  the  Apostles, 


taking,  with  this  one  exception,  precedence  of  all 
other  ranks.  The  prominence  of  the  prophet  may 
be  seen  in  the  Didaehc  (c.  11),  and  in  the  part 
played  by  him  in  the  Montanist  movement, 
llence  their  truth  or  falseness,  their  faithful  use, 
or  theii  .'ilmse  of  the  spiritual  gift,  was  an  ira- 
|.oit.'iiil  factor  for  the  infant  Church.  Hence  our 
Loiil  wains  against  them  as  'wolves  in  sheep's 
elothmu  (Mt  7''"'),  and  St.  John  at  the  end  of  the 
Ajio^toln-  .'ige  repeats  the  warning  (I  Jn  4').  In 
till'  toiniei  ease  the  reference  is  apparently  to 
their  niietliie.al  teaching;  in  the  latter  to  their 
denial  or  misinterpretation  of  the  fact  of  the  In- 
carnation. Without  using  the  name,  our  Lord 
warns  also  against  such  men,  as  falsely  predicting 
or  announcing  the  Parousia  (Mt  24''-').  In  2  P  2' 
stress  is  laid  upon  false  teaching  of  an  antinomian 
I  haiaitei.  the  authors  of  wliicli  are  called  'false 
ti  arlii  1-.  hut  find  their  analogy  in  the  'false 
luoiihi'i-    oftheOT. 


[IKli. 


FALSE  WITNESS.— The  i-roh 
logue  of  bearing   false  witness 

Christ    (01>    ip€vdo^apTVp7j(T€LS,     Mt 

lying 


T.  T..  M,\OG.s. 

tionintheUeca- 
•  is  eiiiloised  by 
"  ).  I  higinally 
lying 


harge  might 
attention  (Ml 
fiapTvplaf,  ios  i'" 
Zi-);  but  the 
this.      'Hie   I,; 


While 


;i 'gainst  ones  iieighbcmr,  perliaps  because  this  is  the 
most  frei|iii'iit  form  of  falsehood  (see  Dale,  Ten 
I  'i.iHiiniixliiinit.-!,  p.  208) :  Was  it  merely  for  brevity 
that  the  limiting  clause  was  dropped  by  Christ? 
or  did  it  not  rather  imply  a  broadening  and 
ileepening  of  the  commandment?  Like  other  sins, 
xftfoo/xapTvpiai.  come  from  the  heart  (Mt  15"). 

At  the  preliminary  investigation  before  Caiaphas, 
the  chief  priests  and  the  whole  council  souqht 
(ii-qTovv)  false  witness  on  which  such  a  capital 
s  would  demand  Pilate's 
4'')  ;  ws  ^kv  iKclvOLS  cddKCL 
4  f  voofjiapTvplav  (Euthym. 
seem  to  mean  more  tlian 
falsonim  testium  exorta 
niinally  jnil;_:es,  they  were 

IvalU-    |i|ii-.rrntols,   .'Is   \]lry   sliowi'.'l    li\'   1 1  i  ~1  e-ill'dlng 

the  nijo  that  witnesses  h.'r  tlie  difeiiVe  should  first 
be  e.'illeil  (see  \\"est.euU  on  Jn  18-').  Though  many 
false  witues.ses  came  (Mt  2(i''")  and  bore  false  wit- 
ness (Mk  14"''),  yet  their  witness  .agreed  not  together 
(i'uai  ai  i-iapTvplai  oi'/i  ij(ya:>.  ih.),  i.e.  they  were  not  con- 
sistenl  with  eaeh  oilier,  sinie  it  w .-is'necessary  that 
two  al  h>;is(  shonlil  auiee  (IM  I7''l,  and  witnesses 
well-  e\amiiii'il  se[iai .'iti'U  ,  not  ill  the  presence  of 
eaih  olhei-  (see  Kilerslieim,  ./,mix  the  Messiah,  ii. 
:m\\.  Some  (Erasmus,  Grot,  etc.)  take  iaai  in  the 
sense  of  'sufficient  for  the  purpose,  equal  to  the 
ilemaiiil  hir  weighty  evidence,  and  justifying  con- 
demnalioii,'  The  parallel  words  in'Mt  2(i'5»-ii''  lend 
some  sii]ii«irt  ('soui_'ht  false  witness  against  Jesus 
that  they  mi.ulit  \m{  him  to  death  :  and  theyfound 
it  not.  thoiiLih  many  false  w  itnesses  eame') ';  but  it 
is  a  stion;.;  objeetion  that  oi'ot  ovrm  (a-q  is  used 
of  the  w  lines-,' ,,f  (hose  who  perverted  His -words 
coiieeininj  the  temple  (Mk  14™),  which  constituted 
aver\  'ji-im;  I  haiue  :  cf.  Ac  6'"-"  (cf.  Expositor's 
GrccL  Tc-iUuncd  uu  Mk  14=";). 

Even  the  spies  who  constantly  laid  wait  for  Him 
had  caught  up  nothing  to  serve  their  purpose  ;  but 
at  last  two  '[false  witnesses  (Mt  26'^'' ;  rti/es,  Mk  14") 
came,  who  perverted  certain  words  spoken  at  the 
beginning  of  His  ministry  (Jn  2'") ;  but  their  testi- 
mony also  was  not  Ul).  Taking  the  meaning  as 
'iliil  not  agree  together,'  the  ditl'erence  may  per- 
haps he  tlaee.l    ill  'Mt.   (arraelu    MirnX.Vai)  and  Mk. 

(^7u.'  i.uT(i\ruw)  :  ei'ilainlv  the  |ii-i\  eision  is  evident, 
since  tiicy  asciilieil  to  liiiii  iliai  ih-st ruction  which 
Ho  asciiheil   to   the   .lews.      It    has    been   inferred 


FAIMILY 


from  Mt  2V  that  the  rulers  knew  the  true  mean- 
ing ;  but  perhaps  this  is  better  referred  to  a  know- 
ledge of  Christ's  words  in  Mk  8^'  etc.  This  false 
witness  might  have  sufficed  ;  no  other  charge  could 
be  so  eft'ective  before  the  Koman  Procurator  as 
that  of  being  a  fanatical  seducer  of  the  ignorant 
populace,  who  niiglit  lead  them  on  to  wild  tumul- 
tuous acts  ;  wliile  the  claim  that  He  would,  or  was 
able  to,  rebuild  the  temple  within  three  days 
might  be  made  to  imply  Divine  or  magical  pre- 
tensions (see  Edersheini,  op.  cit.  ii.  559);  but  it  also 
broke  down  (ovSk  oiirw^  ta-q  fjv  t)  fiaprvpla.  aiTuv),  cf. 
Ps  2V-  35". 

On  the  law  concerning  false  witness  see  Hastings' 
DBiv.  351"  ;  Edersheim,  op.  cit.  ii.  558.  Witnesses 
who  contradicted  each  other  were  not  considered 
in  Kabbinic  law  as  false  witnes.ses  in  the  sense  of 
Iieiiig  iiunishable.  The  Sadducees  were  less  severe 
than  the  Pharisees  in  tlie  interpretationof  Dt  19""-; 
they  held  that  the  punishment  should  be  inflicted 
only  if  the  falsely  accused  had  been  punished, 
whereas  the  Pharisees  demanded  punishment  if  the 
sentence  had  been  pronounced,  whether  it  was 
executed  or  not. 

Literature.— Besides  the  works  cited  above,  ret.  may  be 
nia^iie  to  Taylor  Innes,  Tnat  of  Jesjis  Christ ;  and  Rosadi,  Trial 
of  Jesiis,  ad  loc. ;  Schiirer,  HJP  ii.  i.  194 ;  Expositor,  i.  xii. 
[1880]  276 f.  W.   H.  DUNDA.S. 

FAME. — This  term  has  had  three  meanings, — 
rumour,  reputation,  and  posthumous  renown.  The 
last  is  modern  ;  the  Elizabethan  usage  lies  between, 
or  may  include,  the  other  two.  Bacon,  who  left  a 
Fragment  on  the  subject,  and  who  loved  to  quote 
the  mythological  idea  of  Fame  as  the  daughter  of 
the  angry  Earth  and  the  sister  of  the  warring 
Giants,  understood  by  the  term  disturbing  Rumour 
— a  thing  dangerous  to  governments.  Milton,  who 
in  an  early  poem  {Lycidas,  70ft'.)  described  'the 
last  infirmity  of  noble  minds,'  in  a  late  ix)em 
analyzed  the  temptation  to  seek  fame  or  glory,  and 
poured  scorn  on  human  judgments  {Par.  Meg.  iii. 
21-151).  In  the  Gospels  the  meaning  is  simpler. 
The  term  describes  the  spreading  talk  of  the 
admiring  multitudes.  It  is  a  thing  unsought,  but 
unrestrainable,  and  in  no  small  degree  disquieting 
to  the  authorities. 

We  are  told  tliat  curly  in  the  ministry  of  Jesus 
a  fame  of  Him  wont  IliKiuuii  I  l.ililee  and  the  sur- 
rounding country,  incin.liii^  Syria  (Mt4^,  Lk  4"). 
Special  occasions  were  the  n^toration  of  ademoniac 
(Mk  128,  lIj  437)  ami  jijg  cleansing  of  a  leper  (Lk  5'^, 
cf.  Mk  l''^).  The  First  Gospel  uses  the  term  also 
in  connexion  with  the  restoring  of  Jairus'  daughter 
and  the  giving  of  sight  to  two  blind  men  (Mt  9-"-  ^i). 
And,  finally,  this  Gospel  tells  us  that  the  fame 
of  Jesus  affected  Herod  (Mt  14'  RV  'report,'  cf. 
Mk  6",  Lk  9'). 

An  examination  of  the  Greek  text  shows  that 
in  no  two  parallel  passages  is  the  same  term  used. 
The  term  of  the  first  two  Gospels  (except  in  Mt 
9=*)  is  aKoii  (lit.  'hearing' ;  RV  'report'),  n.sed  also 
for  'rumours 'in  the  eschatological  discourse  (Mt 
24^,  Mk  13').  St.  Luke,  however,  eschews  this  word, 
and  in  his  three  passages  uses  three  others  :  ip-q/ni 
(lit.  'speech';  RV  'fame.'Lk  4",  so  Mt  9) ;  iJxos 
(lit.  'sound'  ;  RV  'rci)ort,'  I,k  t")  ;  and  \iyos  (lit. 
'discourse';  RV  'repoil,'  l.k  r)i'i  And  elsewhere 
each  Evangelist  uses  ),.  i  i|,lii  .im^,  Tlius  we  may 
conclude  that  the  idea,  cNpirsMd  by  these  terms 
was  of  an  indefinite  character.  It  included,  in 
varying  degrees,  such  elements  as  curiosity,  attrac- 
tion, wonder,  faith,  worship. 

These  passages,  taken  along  witli  others  that 
mnrediivctlv  .■x|.n-.  a.lmiiat  i..ii   or  aMonisliment 

(MlT'-^-l-J    M.-.^^,,]   Il,;il    Ml  .Irl •,„„, „,1  ->.,., 11,1  fol- 

l.,«iTi,vui  iiiiiliiiii,lr-.i\ll.:r  ■■,;  '■  Ml'  ,.  i„,Nv  that 
duriiiij  His  »h..lr  imLlic  iniiii-lry  tin-  mt-  ..;  Jesus 


arrested  the  gaze  ol 
but  in  all  the  provim 
of  Syria,  men  talkn 
new  Figure  that  v  a- 
cherished  sacred  trail 


ll     s 


Not  only  in  Galilee, 
Paltstine,  and  in  cities 
dated  regarding  a 
liilst.     A  few  who 
■il  (liat  the  Messiah 


had  come  (Jn  !■"•  ^^  I-'",  Mt  l(i' ;Jl'').  (Jtliers  less 
instructed  talked  wildly  as  if  Elijah  had  descended, 
or  the  Baptist  had  risen  (Mk  O''^- '•',  Mt  IG'^"),  or 
some  jjrophet  of  local  tradition  or  expectation  had 
a.piii'aiv.l(.lii7"',  MfJl").  Doubtless  tiir  multitudes 
dial  hull;,'  aroiuiil  Him  were  very  mixed  crowds. 
\'anity  and  srllishnes.s  mingled  with  their  motives. 
Tliey  luved  display.  They  desired  a  succession  of 
palpable  beneiits.  Some  had  political  aims  or 
ambitions.  The  majority  failed  to  appreciate  the 
renunciation  and  pure  spirituality  of  the  Teacher. 
And  few  were  able  to  sustain  the  devotion  of  their 
higher  moments.  To  Jesus  it  was  often  a  relief  to 
find  a  place  of  solitude  for  meditation  and  prayer. 
Yet  He  acknowledged  the  true  instinct  of  the  un- 
tutored worshipper  (Mt  21'").  And  it  is  to  the 
honour  of  human  nature  to  remember  that  the 
common  people  heard  Him  gladly  (Mk  12"),  and 
that  not  tlie  nation  at  large,  but  tlie  constituted 
authorities  and  their  tools — a  suspicious  officialism, 
a  proud  and  jealous  priesthood— rejected  the  true 
Leader  and  Lord  of  men,  the  Shepherd  and  Bishop 
of  souls.  See,  further,  artt.  Ambition  and  Glory-. 
i;.  si-oTT. 

FAMILY.— 1.  3Tc»ibcrsh{p.— J e.\yi^h  faniily  life, 
while  having  many  points  in  comnmn  ^\  iUi  that  nf 
the  Gentiles,  was  marked  by  a  hi'dier  standard  of 

Surity,  the  avoidance  of  infanticide,  and  the  con- 
emnation  of  the  selfish  cruelty  that  in  human 
sacrifice  gave  the  fruit  of  the  body  for  the  sin  of 
the  soul  (Mic  6').  The  father  was  the  head  of  the 
house,  exercising  restrictive  authority  over  the 
wife,  having  complete  disposal  of  the  children, 
and  giving  his  name  to  the  family  inheritance. 
Although  living  for  years  in  another  locality,  he 
was  regarded  and  registered  as  belonging  to  the 
place  of  his  ancestral  origin  (Lk  2*). 

The  wife,  as  being  legally  the  purchased  posses- 
sion of  her  husband,  was  under  bis  law, — the  bciHci/i 
to  her  ba'al,  or  rightful  possessor.  Hence  the  land 
of  Israel  could  be  called  the  beiiluh  of  Jehovah 
(Is  62').  Betrothal  (Mt  1"),  as  a  covenant,  was  equi- 
valent to  marriage  ;  it  jirevented  the  woman  from 
being  married  to  any  other  man  until  she  had 
received  a  writing  of  divorce.  Among  the  duties 
of  the  wife,  apiirt  from  the  maternal  charge  of  the 
faniily,  was  the  daily  preparation  of  the  bread 
(Mt24'"),  and  the  carrying  of  water  from  the  village 
fountain  (Jn  4').  Tlic  desire  for  male  children 
was  luniversal  (Jn  16-'),  as  these  preserved  the 
name  and  upheld  the  interests  and  rights  of  the 
family,  and  in  due  time  enlarged  its  circle  by 
bringmg  in  daughters  from  other  households.  The 
pre-eminence  of  the  father  carried  with  it  a  corre- 
sponding responsibility  of  watching  over  the  life 
and  honour,  the  rights  and  welfare  of  his  family. 
See  artt.  Divorce,  Marriage. 

2.  References  to  the  family.— \twa,s  out  of  such 
relationships  that  Christ  drew  examples  that  were 
familiar  to  all,  when  He  spoke  of  fathers  who  knew 
how  to  give  good  gifts  to  their  children  (Lk  11"), 
of  sons  who  obeyed  or  disobeyed  the  father's 
command  (Mt  21°*) ;  and  when,  beyond  the  attach- 
ments of  unselfish  devotion  fostered  by  the  sacred 
institutions  of  the  family,  He  set  the  higher  claim 
of  what  was  due  to  Himself  from  His  disciples 
(Mt  W).  The  Lord's  Prayer  was  a  transfiguration 
of  the  family  relationships. 

3.  Religion  in  the  family. — It  was  especially  in 
the  superiority  of  its  religious  training  that  the 
Jewish  home  differed  from  the  family  life  of  the 
Gentiles.    See  artt.  Boyhood,  Childhood. 

G.  M.  Mackie. 


FAMILY 


FAMILY 


FAMILY.- 

1.  Jesus  as  the  member  of  a  family. 

2.  Teaching  of  Jesus  on  the  family. 

(a)  Marriage. 

(6)  Position  of  women. 

(c)  Filial  obedience. 

(d)  The  family  and  the  Kingdom  of  God. 

1.  Whatever  be  the  force  of  the  phrase  '  the 
brethren  of  the  Lord '  (see  article  s.v. ),  it  is  evident 
that  Jesus  took  His  place  as  a  member  of  a  human 
family  in  the  fulle.st  sense  of  the  word.  Such  was 
the  impression  of  His  fellow-townsmen  who  saw 
Him  in  His  daily  life.  The  reticence  of  the  Gospels 
about  the  childhood  of  Christ  is  in  itself  an  indica- 
tion that  there  was  nothing  which  so  dittered  from 
the  ordinary  family  life  of  a  Jewish  household  as 
to  create  a  special  tradition  about  His  early  years. 
It  was  not  till  a  later  age  had  forgotten  the  com- 
pleteness with  which  the  Lord  identified  Himself 
with  human  conditions  that  there  appeared  the 
painful  attempts  of  the  Apocryphal  Gospels  to 
break  the  sUence  of  their  Canonical  prototypes. 
In  the  one  authentic  account  of  any  event  in  the 
boyhood  of  Jesus  (Lk  2^'"°').  received  perhaps  from 
the  Virgin  herself  (see  Ramsay,  Was  Chnst  born 
at  BetlUehem  /  ch.  iv. ),  He  is  seen  to  be  as  others 
'  among  their  kinsfolk  and  acquaintance.'  For  the 
rest  we  only  know  that  '  the  moral  perfections  of 
God  were  being  translated  into  those  unosten- 
tatious virtues  which  constitute  the  dignity  and 
the  happiness  of  a  human  home '  (Dale,  Laws  of 
Christ  for  Common  Life,  xi.). 

When  we  come  to  the  history  of  the  Ministry, 
two  stages  can  be  discerned  in  the  change  which 
came  over  the  relations  between  Jesus  and  His 
earthly  kinsfolk.  (1)  The  calling  of  the  first  dis- 
ciples, narrated  in  Jn  1,  did  not  lead  at  once  to 
the  withdrawal  of  the  Lord  from  His  family.  His 
mother  was  present  with  Him  at  the  marriage  at 
Cana,  and  after  that  event  He  went  down  with  her 
and  His  brethren  to  Capernaum  and  made  a  short 
stay  there  (Jn  2'2,  of.  Mt  4'3-M).  (2)  But  when  the 
Apostolic  band  was  complete  and  the  work  of 
training  them  began  in  earnest,  then  He  sub- 
ordinated the  claims  of  His  family  to  the  higher 
claims  of  His  mission,  and  no  longer  lived  con- 
tinually in  the  home  of  His  youth.  Immediately 
after  the  final  choice  of  the  Twelve  occurred  the 
incident  near  Capernaum,  when  those  from  His 
house  (oi  Trap'  airov)  went  out  to  stop  Him  from 
preaching,  under  the  impression  that  He  was  mad ; 
shortly  afterwards  His  mother  and  His  brethren 
try  to  call  Him  away,  apparently  for  a  similar 
reason  (Mk  3-').  From  this  it  may  be  gathered 
that  they  were  now  living  at  Capernaum.  From 
Mk  6'  it  has  been  mistakenly  concluded  that  they 
were  still  living  at  Nazareth,  but  the  verse  plainly 
draws  a  distinction  between  them  and  His  sisters 
(named,  ace.  to  Epiphan.  H(Er.  Ixxviii.  9,  Salome 
and  Mary),  who,  either  because  they  were  married, 
or  for  some  other  reason,  had  settled  down  in  their 
native  to^vn.  Some  have  supposed  that  when  the 
Lord  left  His  family  He  dwelt  in  a  house  of  His 
own  in  Capernaum.  The  Gospel  of  St.  Matthew, 
it  is  true,  speaks  in  a  vague  way  of  'tlte  house' 
(910.28  131.36  i726)_  ijut  g,  comparisou  of,  e.g.,  9>» 
with  the  corresponding  passage  in  Lk  S^'  shows 
that  it  is  not  a  house  of  Jesus  which  is  meant. 
After  leaving  the  family  home,  when  He  entered 
into  a  city,  He  depended  on  the  hospitality  of  His 
friends,  "it  was  this  literal  homelessness  which 
drew  from  Him  the  saying  recorded  in  Mt  8-"  II  Lk 
9™  ;  for  it  is  unnecessary  to  give  these  words,  with 
Augustine  and  others,  a  figurative  sense.  It  is  not 
possible  to  discover  the  precise  moment  at  which 
they  were  uttered,  as  the  two  Evangelists  give 
them  in  difterent  connexions,  but  they  must  belong 
to  the  period  when  the  total  failure  of  His  kindred 
to  understand  His  mission  had  made  it  impossible 
vol..  1,-37 


for  Him  to  dwell  with  them  any  longer.  The 
position  given  to  them  by  St.  Luke  is  the  more 
probable.  According  to  him,  they  were  pronounced 
as  the  Ministry  was  entering  upon  its  last  stage 
(cf.  Lk  9=1).  •  Now  in  Jn  1'-''  the  Lord's  '  brethren ' 
are  found  arguing  with  Hun  as  if  He  still  lived 
with  them.  The  incident  there  alluded  to  took 
place  just  before  the  Feast  of  Tabernacles  in  the 
second  year  of  the  Ministry.  From  this  we  may 
accept  the  conclusion  suggested  by  St.  Luke  s 
order,  that  the  Lord's  home  was  closed  against 
Him  towards  the  end  of  the  Ministry,  rather  than 
near  its  beginning,  as  the  position  given  to  the 
saying  in  St.  Matthew  might  imply.  Perhaps  it 
is  not  without  significance  that  in  the  next  chapter 
of  St.  Luke  is  introduced  another  home,  that  of 
Lazarus  and  his  sisters  at  Bethany,  in  which  the 
Lord  was  an  honoured  guest. 

The  reconciliation  which  the  Lord's  Passion  won 
for  all  mankind  was  first  reflected  among  His  own 
kinsmen  after  the  flesh.  We  cannot  suppose  that 
His  mother  had  ever  been  parted  from  Him  in 
any  absolute  sense,  and  after  His  resurrection  His 
brethren  also  cast  in  their  lot  with  those  who 
believed  in  Him.  According  to  the  tradition 
which  St.  Paul  received,  the  Lord  Himself  ap- 
peared to  James  (1  Co  15').  This  moment  was 
probably  but  the  last  in  a  series  during  which  the 
surrender  to  the  clahiis  of  Jesus  had  been  steadily 
replacing  previous  unbelief.  Such  at  least  was 
the  interpretation  of  later  days,  when  the  story 
was  told  that  beneath  the  Cross  (or  even  at  the 
Last  Supper,  ace.  to  the  version  of  Jerome,  de  Vir. 
Illus.,  quoting  tlie  Gospel  of  the  Hebrews)  James 
swore  that  he  would  neither  eat  bread  nor  drink 
wine  till  the  Lord  rose  from  the  dead.  With  his 
conversion  came  that  of  the  other  brethren,  and 
they  with  the  Virgin  are  found  at  the  opening 
of  the  Acts  (1")  among  those  who  were  waiting 
for  the  fulfilment  of  the  promise  of  the  Spirit. 
Thus  the  earthly  family  of  Christ  fittingly  finds 
its  place  in  the  foundations  of  His  spiritual  family. 

2.  In  the  teaching  of  Christ,  although  the  word 
'  family '  does  not  occur,  yet  the  institution  is 
everywhere  presupposed  and  its  laws  emphasized, 
as  it  is  also  connected  with  the  first  miracle  re- 
corded in  the  Fourth  Gospel,  (a)  The  pivot  on 
which  family  life  turns  is  marriage,  and  this  sub- 
ject holds  a  unique  place  in  the  teaching  of  Christ. 
On  all  other  social  topics  He  left  no  particular 
detailed  instructions,  but  only  general  rules.  On 
marriage  His  words  are  distinct  and  aflbrd  specific 
guidance  about  details.  He  lays  it  down  that 
monogamy  is  not  the  result  of  any  code  of  law,  but 
a  primal  fact  instituted  '  in  the  beginning '  (Mt  19*). 
True  marriage  rests  ultimately  upon  a  spiritual 
basis,  the  physical  aspect  is  but  an  accident. 
This  is  implied  in  the  answer  to  the  Sadducees 
(Mk  1218-=').  No  human  law,  not  even  though  it 
have  the  sanction  of  the  name  of  Moses,  can  alter 
this.  The  possibility  of  ground  for  divorce  is  con- 
fined to  the  case  of  one  oflence  (or  even  abolished 
altogether,  if  we  regard  the  exceptive  clauses  in 
Mt  19^  and  5'-  as  later  glosses  on  the  Lord's  words  ; 
see  Wright,  Synopsis  of  Gospels,  on  Mk  10'°,  and 
cf.  artt.  Adultery,  Divorce,  and  Marriage). 

(b)  The  attitude  of  Jesus  towards  marriage  was 
necessarily  reflected  in  His  treatment  of  women. 
In  spite  of  all  that  can  be  urged  to  the  contrary, 
it  is  clear  that  contemporary  Judaism  assigned  to 
women  a  position  far  inferior  to  that  of  men.  The 
tendency  was  rather  to  fall  away  from  than  to 
advance  upon  the  standpoint  of  the  OT.  There 
woman  is  often  found  in  a  prominent  and  honour- 
able place  {e.g.  Miriam,  Nu  12= ;  Deborah,  Jg  4* ; 
Bathsheba,  1  K  1),  but  the  days  were  now  approach- 
ing when  it  could  be  said  that  he  who  talked  with 
a  woman  was  qualifying  for  Gehenna  (Pirkx  Aboth, 


FAMILY 


ed.  Taylor,  i).  29),  an  expression  in  wliicU  Judaism 
contrasted  unfavourably  even  -with  the  low  estimate 
of  women  current  among  the  Greeks  (cf.  Aristotle, 
Poetics,  15 ;  Nic.  Eth.  vii.  7).  In  the  treatment 
which  Christ  accorded  to  women  is  found  the  very 
antithesis  of  this  harshness.  This  is  sometimes 
(e.g.  Jn  2^)  obscured  in  the  EV  by  the  employment 
of  '  woman '  as  a  rendering  of  yvvai,  a  translation 
which  is  far  from  reproducing  the  respectful  tone 
of  the  Greek.  Jesus  readily  accepted  the  help  of 
women,  an  aspect  of  the  Ministry  on  which  St. 
Luke  seems  to  desire  to  lay  special  stress  (cf. 
Plummer,  Internat.  Crit.  Com,,  on  '  St.  Luke,' 
Introd.  p.  xlii).  He  gave  them  equal  rights  with 
their  husbands,  implying  that  as  far  as  divorce 
was  lawful  at  all,  a  wife  might  p»it  away  a  hus- 
band as  much  as  a  husband  a  wife,  a  doctrine 
tolerated  rather  than  accepted  Ijy  His  countrymen. 
A  like  care  to  secure  justice  for  "women  appears  in 
the  narrative  preser\'ed  in  Jn  8'".  This  storj', 
whether  Apostolic  or  not,  certainly  reflects  the 
teaching  of  Jesus  by  inferring  that  in  such  moral 
downfaUs  the  crime  is  not  always  to  be  imputed 
to  the  woman  alone. 

(c)  In  another  region  of  family  ethics— the  sphere 
oi  filial  duty—ovLX  Lord  again  attacked  contem- 
porary Jewish  conventions.  Nominally,  filial  obedi- 
ence was  exalted  to  a  high  place  by  the  teachers 
of  the  day,  but  in  practice  it  might  "be  reduced  to 
a  mere  sliadow  by  such  vows  as  those  alluded  to 
in  Mk  7".  By  sw'eeping  away  the  sophistries  with 
which  these  vows  were  defended,  Jesus  made 
parental  claims  absolute  and  in\-iolable. 

(d)  The  family  and  the  Kingdom  of  God.— 'Hot 
only  is  life  in  a  family  the  normal  life  of  a  disciple, 
as  pictured  in  the  Gospels,  but  the  family  supplies 
the  analogy  by  which  men  are  led  to  the  better 
understanding  of  the  Kingdom  of  God.  In  the 
First  Gospel  especially  we  constantly  see  on  the 
throne  of  the  Kingdom  the  '  Fathe'r  who  is  in 
tlie  heavens,'  wliile  the  ideal  of  the  citizens  is  to 
be  His  true  'sons.'  This  aspect  of  tlie  Kingdom 
is  made  famUiar  to  all  Christians  by  the  Lord's 
Prajer.  In  its  clauses  are  represented  successively 
all  the  integral  elements  in  the  relations  of  a 
father  to  liis  children,  the  reverence  and  obedience 
which  lie  expects  fi'om  them,  the  support,  for- 
bearance, and  protection  which  he  extends  to 
tliera  (cf.  Robinson,  Church  Catechism  Explained, 
ch.  ii.).  The  exclusion  from  the  Kingdom,  which 
results  when  they  are  lost,  is  exhibited  in  the 
parable  of  the  Prodigal  Son. 


■  abolitic 


This  fundamental  conceptk 
between  the  teaching  of  .1^.:. 

obligation.     'An  asso<  ki 
party' (Morris  and  Ba\,  >    '  ' 
the  Gospel  doctrine.     Cl.ri.>i....i 
the  \%-ill  of  Christ,  must  \\orlv  fi.r 
but  of  those  forces  which  are  ir 
ment.     But  this  does  not  make  i 


insuperable  barrier 
irieties  of  Socialism 
njriu  of  the  family. 


■  opposed  1 


seem  to  shri: 
which  are  tr. 
here  and  el-. 
I.kl4»).  Tl 
any  danger  iii;i 
comes  to  pass  v 
but  also  these 


...  u  it  is  to  1 

ii>\,tl,  not  of  the  family, 

to  its  perfect  develop- 

;sible  for  circumstances 

-ti.ular  individuals  which  demand  the 

I  .;...c;  ..,  those  of  the  Kinfrdom  of  God. 

Twelve  had  put  the  following 

!in-,  and  tlte  reply  which  the 

niiikes  it  clear  that  the  Chris- 

:    Mi  this  if  his  own  S]>ecial  call 

,!  The  First  f\nd  Second  Gospels 

the  wife  among  the  objects 

l.oth  in  the  parallel  ^lassage 

.rts  this  also  (cf.  Mt  low  with 

-•■  ■  domestic  claims  if  there  is 

ui  ifvMii  the  reality  of  his  service,  as 

tdily  have  we  family  and  friendship. 

'  (Mart«nsen).    But  such  a  conflict  of 

eyes  of  Christ  only  when  devotion  to 


::f"j':: 


Patn 

Literature. — Westcott,  Social  Aspects  of  Christianity;  Pea- 
bodv,  Jesus  Christ  and  the  Social  Problem,  ch.  iii. ;  Shailer 
Jlathews,  The  Social  Teaching  of  Jesus,  ch.  iv.  ;  Gore,  The 
Semum  on  the  Xount,  pp.  CS-73  (for  the  teaching  on  marriage) ; 
Hamack,  What  is  Christianity!  Lect.  v.  (Eng.  tr.);  Stalker, 
Imago  Christi,  ch.  ii.  C.  T.  DiMONT. 

FAMINE.— Though  the  general  fertility  of  Pale- 
stine is  frequently  alluded  to  in  the  Bible,  yet  the 
country  was,  a.s  we  know,  by  no  means  free  from 
the  danger  of  famine,  whether  brought  about  by 
drought  or  by  the  devastations  of  locusts  and  otlier 
pests,  or  by  the  destructive  hand  of  man.  Our 
Lord  refers  to  the  familiar  instance  of  famine  in 
the  days  of  Elijah  (Lk  4=^'- ).  In  order  to  illustrate 
the  truth  that  no  prophet  is  best  received  in  his 
own  country,  He  reminds  His  hearers  that  Elijah 
was  at  that  time  sent  not  to  one  of  tlie  many 
widows  in  Israel,  but  to  the  widow  of  Sarepta  in 
the  territory  of  Sidon. 

In  the  parable  of  the  Prodigal  Son,  it  was  '  a 
mighty  famine'  (Xi/nAs  i<rx<-'pa)  in  the  land  of  his 
distant  exile  that  helped  to  bring  the  >vanderer 
to  his  senses  (Lk  15").  He  had  squandered  all  his 
patrimony  by  the  time  it  arose,  and  in  his  distress 
he  had  to  seek  a  living  by  feeding  Livine.  Even 
thus,  food  was  so  scarce  with  him  that  '  he  would 
fain  have  been  filled  with  the  husks  that  the  swine 
did  eat.' 

Lastly,  in  the  eschatological  discourses  of  our 
Lord  recorded  by  the  SjTioptists  (Mt  24',  Mk  IS', 
Lk  21"),  'famines  in  divers  places'  are  included 
among  tlie  signs  of  the  end.  In  St.  Luke's  account 
they  are  joined  with  pestilences,  and  in  all  three 
accounts  ^vith  earthquakes.  This  portion  of  the 
prophecy  at  all  events  seems  clearly  to  refer  in 
the  first  instance  to  the  approaching  destruction  of 
Jerusalem  bj'  Titus  (A.D.  70),  and  only  in  a  second- 
ary sense,  if  at  all,  to  the  final  end  of  all  things. 
Josephus  {BJ  V.  and  VI.)  again  and  again  tells 
us  that  famine  and  pestilence  were  the  terrible 
accompaniments  of  the  city  being  taken  by  tlie 
Roman  army  ;  and  these  were  no  doubt  in  great 
measure  due  to  its  crowded  state  on  account  of 
the  many 
Passover. 

FAN.— The  fan  (nnio  mizreh,  the  vriov  of  Mt 
3'-  and  Lk  3")  was  an  implement  used  in  the 
winnowing  of  grain  (Is  30^  [where  it  is  mentioned 
along  with  the  nn-i  rahath,  EV  '  shovel ']).  It  was 
either  a  wooden  shovel  (Hastings'  DB  i.  51» ; 
Smith,  DB  i.  31  ;  van  Lennep,  Bible  Lands,  p.  83) 
or  a  pitchfork  (Hastings'  DB  iv.  509";  Encyc. 
Bibl.  i.  84  :  jMackie,  Bihle  Manners  and  Customs, 
J).  42).  The  balance  of  probability  is  in  favour  of 
the  latter. 

We  get  no  help  from  LX\  :.iM  Vul-nte.  LXX 
omits  the  word;  theVul-.  i.  n.l.  i-  l.y  r.),tilabrum, 
whidi  was,  according  to  .-..nn  ,  a  >lu.\cl  iRamsay, 
Roman  Antiquities,  p.  4S-Ji,  aiul,  according  to 
others,  a  fork  (Smith,  Lat.-Eng.  Diet.  s.r.).  Pe.sh. 
has  raphsho',  which  means  '  shovel.'  There  is, 
however,  the  significant  fact  that  down  to  the 
present  day  two  ^vinnowing  implements  are  used 
m  Palestine  Avhich  bear  practically  the  same  names 
as  those  which  occur  in  Is  30=^.  These  are  the 
midra  and  the  raht,  and  there  is  no  substantial 
reason  for  doubting  that  they  correspond  respec- 
tively to  the  mizreh  and  the  rahath.  The  midra, 
which  we  accordingly  identify  with  the  '  fan '  of 
Scripture,  is  a  simple  wooden  fork  about  six  feet 
long.  It  has  from  five  to  seven  prongs,  which  are 
set  in  separately  and  bound  together  with  a 
wrapping  of  fresh  hide.  The  natural  shrinkage  of 
the  hide  renders  it  a  ver\-  efieetive  ligature.  The 
raht  is  a  wooden  shovel  about  live  feet  in  length. 


fae:m 


FATHER,  FATHERHOOD 


579 


Tlie  winnowing  of  the  mixed  mass  of  grain, 
chati',  and  short  straw  produced  hy  threshing  [^ 
be^n  by  tossing  it  into  the  air  with  the  midra. 
This  process  frees  most  of  the  chaff  and  straw, 
which  are  carried  away  by  the  wind  (see  AGRICUL- 
TURE, p.  40),  but  a  good  deal  still  remains  mingled 
with  the  pile  of  grain.  A  second  winnowing  is 
therefore  needed,  and  for  this  the  raht  is  used. 
See  also  Chaff. 


FARM.— See  Agriculture,  and  Husbandman. 

FARTHING. -See  Money. 

FASTING.— In  the  time  of  Christ,  fasting  ap- 
pears to  have  been  a  prominent  characteristic  of 
Jewish  piety.  The  fasts  were  both  public  and 
private.  Of  public  fasts  only  one  in  the  year  was 
ordained  by  tne  law  of  Moses,  the  Day  of  Atone- 
ment; in  Ac  27"  it  is  called  simply  '  the  fast ' 
(cf.  Jos.  Ant.  XIV.  iv.  3;  Philo,  Vit.  Mos.  ii.  4  ; 
Schiirer,  HJP  I.  i.  322).  Tlie  four  annual  fasts, 
established  in  memory  of  national  calamities  and 
referred  to  by  Zechariah  (8'"),  had  fallen  into 
desuetude,  and  were  not  revived  until  after  the 
destruction  of  Jerusalem  by  the  Romans.  The 
late  '  fast  of  Estlier,'  on  the  13th  of  Adar  (Est  9^', 
cf.  4^-  "*),  was  not  at  this  time  observed.  But  occa- 
sional public  fasts  were  ordered  from  time  to  time 
during  seasons  of  drought  and  public  calamity. 
They  were  held  on  the  second  and  fifth  days  of  the 
week,  —  Monday  and  Thursday,  —  because  Moses 
was  believed  to  have  gone  up  Mt.  Sinai  on  a  Thurs- 
day and  to  have  returned  on  a  Monday.  They 
always  began  on  the  second  day,  so  that  a  three 
days'  fast  would  fall  on  the  second,  fifth,  and  second 
— -Monday,  Thursday,  Monday  (see  Didache,  viii.  ; 
Const.  Apost.  vii.  23 ;  Epi'phan.  Hier.  xvi.  1). 
Apart  from  these  public  occasions,  however,  many 
individuals  were  in  the  habit  of  imposing  extra 
fasts  upon  themselves  (Lk  2^,  cf.  Jth  8") ;  and  some, 

Sarticularly  among  the  Pharisees,  fasted  on  Mon- 
ays  and  Thursdays  all  the  year  round  (Lk  18"  ; 
Lightfoot  and  Wetstein,  ad  loc).  Religious  teach- 
ers, moreover,  were  ajiparently  accustomed  to  lay 
isting  for  til 


down  rules  about  fasting 


-he  guidance  of  their 


disciples  (Mk  2'8,  Mt  9",  Lk  5^^).  The  '  frequent 
fasts '  of  the  Jews  are  alluded  to  by  Tacitus  (Hist. 
V.  4)  ;  and  Josephus,  speaking  of  the  spread  of 
Jewish  customs  among  the  Gentile  cities,  men- 
tions fasting  (c.  Apion.  ii.  40  ;  cf.  Tert.  ad  Nat. 
i.  13).  Among  the  Romans  a  mistaken  idea 
seems  to  have  been  current  that  the  Jews  fasted 
on  the  Sabbath  (Sueton.  Aug.  76). 

The  manner  of  fasting  differed  according  to  the 
degree  of  strictness  of  the  fast.  Tlius,  on  less 
strict  fasts,  while  abstinence  from  food  and  drink 
from  sunrise  to  sunset  was  enjoined,  washing  and 
anointing  were  still  permitted.  The  strictest  fast, 
however,  lasted  from  one  sunset  till  after  the  next, 
when  the  stars  appeared  ;  and  during  these  hours 
not  only  food  and  drink,  but  washing,  anointing, 
and  every  kind  of  agreeable  transaction,  even 
salutations,  were  prohibited  (Scliiircr,  II.  ii.  119; 
Edersheim,  Life  and  rim'x,  i.  y.  iKiS,  Temple, 
pp.  297-300).  Fasting  \^a^  -fTn-ially  piiictisecl  in 
an  ostentatious  manner;  on  this  ]ii>int  the  testi- 
mony of  Mt  6'^  is  confirniL-il  Ijy  ilie  xMishna. 

Passing  on  to  consider  the  attitmle  of  Jesus 
towards  fasting,  we  remark  that,  while  on  the 
one  hand  there  is  no  reason  to  (h)ubt  that  He 
observed  the  prescribed  public  fasts,  and  wliile  He 
may  even  have  undertaken  a  voluntary  fast  of 
forty  days  at  the  commencement  of  His  ministry 
(Mt  4^ ;  but  see  art.  Asceticism),  yet,  on  the 
other  hand,  it  is  evident  that  neither  by  practice 


nor  by  precept  <lid  He  lay  any  stress  on  this  form 
of  devotion.  His  ordinary  mode  of  life  was  so  un- 
ascetio  as  to  bring  on  Him  tlie  reproach  of  being 
a  'gluttonous  man  and  a  wine-bibber'  (Mt  IP", 
Lk  7").  In  His  teaching  He  directly  alluded  to 
fasting  only  twice.     The  passages  are  as  follow  : 

(a)  Mt  6i«-'8.  Here  voluntary  fasting  is  presup- 
posed  as  a  religious  exercise,  but  tlie  disciples  are 
warned  against  making  it  an  occasion  for  a  parade 
of  piety.  'Thou,  when  thou  fastest,  anoint  thy 
liead,  and  Mash  thy  face  ;  that  thou  appear  not 
unto  men  to  fast,  but  unto  thy  Father  which  is 
in  secret.'  Jesus  thus  sanctions  fasting,  but  only 
as  the  genuine  expression  of  a  devout  and  contrite 
frame  of  mind.  Its  whole  value  depends  on  the 
purity  and  sincerity  of  the  motive  with  which  it  is 
undertaken.  As  for  the  pretentious  externalism 
of  the  Pharisees,  that  has  its  own  reward. 

(i)  Mk  2'8=^  Mt  Q"-",  Lk  5^-3».  In  reply  to 
the  question  of  the  disciples  of  John  and  of  the 
Pharisees,  Jesus  deliberately  refuses  to  enjoin 
fast;ing  on  His  followers.  Alluding  to  a  Rabbinic 
ordinance  that  all  mourning  be  suspended  during 
the  marriage-week.  He  says  that  fasting,  which  is 
a  sign  of  mourning,  would  be  inconsistent  with  the 
joy  which  '  the  children  of  the  bride-chamber ' 
experience  '  while  the  bridegroom  is  with  them.' 
But  He  adds  that  the  days  of  bereavement  are 
coming,  and  then  the  outward  expression  of  sor- 
row will  be  appropriate' enough.  Here,  as  in  the 
Sermon  on  the  Mount,  Jesus  certainly  sanctions 
fasting  as  a  form  through  which  emotion  spon- 
taneously seeks  expression.  But  to  tlie  form 
itself  He  attaches  very  slight  importance.  This 
is  brought  out  clearly  in  the  succeeding  parables 
of  the  Old  Garment  and  the  Old  Wineskins.  It  is 
futile  to  graft  the  new  liberty  of  the  gospel  on  to 
the  body  of  old  observances  and  practices,  and  yet 
more  futile  to  attempt  to  force  the  whole  new 
system  within  the  ancient  moulds.  The  new 
piety  must  manifest  itself  in  new  forms  of  its  own. 
Nevertheless,  while  Jesus  seems  to  suggest  tliat 
the  Jewish  regulations  are  not  in  harmony  with 
the  Christian  spirit.  He  can  sympathize  with  the 
prejudice  of  conservatives  who  still  cling  tena- 
ciously to  the  custom  of  their  fathers.  '  No  man 
also  having  drunk  old  wine  straightway  desireth 
new  :  for  he  saith.  The  old  is  good.' 

The  allusions  to  fasting  in  Mk  9=«  and  Mt  17='  are 
corruptions  of  the  text ;  for  similar  combinations 
of  prayer  and  fasting  see  To  12*,  Sir  34-^,  Lk  2". 
The  second  Logion  of  the  Oxyrhynchus  fragment 
discovered  in  1897  commences  with  the  words,  A^7ei 
'Itiaods,  eav  ji^  yri(TTevffr]Te  rbv  Kbaiiov,  oi  jiri  eOp-rrre  tt)v 
/SoffiXciai'  Tov  BeoO.  Here,  however,  the  fasting 
spoken  of  is  obviously  metaphorical.  Another 
reference  to  fasting  occurs  in  the  fifth  of  the 
Neto  Sayinjjs  of  Jesiis,  published  by  Grenfell 
and  Hunt  in  1904,  but  the  Logion  is  '  broken 
beyond  hope  of  recovery'  (o/j.  cit.  p.  18  f.). 

On  the  general  Ijearings  of  this  subject  see 
art.  Asceticism.  F.  Homes  Dudden. 

FATHER,  FATHERHOOD.— The  one  subject  on 
which  Jesus  claimed  to  have  unique  and  absolute 
knowledge  was  the  Father  (Mt  11-"').  Yet,  in  say- 
ing this.  He  evidently  did  not  mean  that  He  knew 
all  that  God  knows.  He  confessed  or  implied 
that  His  knowledge  was  limited  (e.g.  Mk  ISK  Mt 
9-''-  -'-) ;  and  the  very  fact  that  He  looked  up  to 
(iod  as  His  God  is  sufficient  evidence  that,  by 
knowledge  of  the  Father,  He  did  not  mean  coni- 
prehension  of  the  Infinite.  The  record  of  His  life 
and  teaching  makes  it  plain  that  His  unique 
knowledge  of  God  was  knowledge  of  th(!  Divine 
character  and  purpose.  This  was  the  sphere  in 
which  He  lived  and  moved  and  had  His  conscious 
being.     This  was  the  sphere  of  His  revelation. 


5S0 


FATHER,  FATHERHOOD 


FATHER,  FATHERHOOD 


In  setting  forth  Jesus'  conception  of  the  Father- 
liood  of  God,  we  sliall  consider  (1)  the  use  of  tlie 
name  '  Father ' ;  (2)  the  meaning  of  Fatherhood  ; 

(3)  the  Fatherhood  of  God  in  the  Fourth  Gospel ; 

(4)  the  place  of  Fatherhood  in  the  teaching  of 
Jesus  ;  and  (5)  Jesus'  conception  of  God  compared 
■with  that  of  the  OT  and  of  His  contemporaries. 

1.  Use  of  the  name  '  Father '  by  Jesus.  — The  first 
recorded  sentence  of  Jesus  (Lk  2"),  and  that  which 
■was  probably  the  last  (Lk  23*^),  both  contain  the 
name  '  Father.'  The  boy  of  twelve  felt  an  in^n'ard 
constraint  to  be  engaged  in  the  things  of  His 
Father,  and  twenty  years  later,  expiring  on  the 
cross,  it  was  into  the  hands  of  His  Father  that  He 
commended  His  spirit.  Throughout  His  ministry 
His  use  of  this  name  is  what  we  miglit  expect 
from  the  scene  ■which  St.  Luke  records  from  His 
boyhood.  '  The  child  is  father  of  the  man.'  When- 
ever the  personal  relation  between  Hiiu  and  God 
is  involved,  Jesus  employs  no  name  but  '  Father,' 
if  we  except  a  single  passage  where  He  quotes 
from  the  22nd  Psalm  (Mk  15*^).  In  each  of  the 
hve  prayers  where  the  words  of  Jesus  are  given. 
He  addresses  God  as  '  Father '  (Mt  1  r^"-"  •26^'->-  ",  Lk 
23"'  ■**) ;  and  in  the  longest  of  these,  which  includes 
only  three  verses,  the  name  is  repeated  five  times 
(Mt  1125-2').  When  speaking  of  God  in  the  third 
person,  Jesus  refers  to  Him  once  as  'the  Great 
King'  (Mt  5^''),  and  once  as  'Lord  of  the  harvest' 
(Mt  9^) ;  but  in  almost  every  case  He  uses  the 
name  'God'  or  the  name  'Father.'  He  never 
employs  .such  circumlocutions  as  'the  Blessed 
One'  and  'Holy  One,'  and  never  uses  abstract 
designations  such  as  '  Place,'  all  of  which  were 
common  in  the  synagogue.  It  is  siioiificant  to 
compare  with  this  usage  that  of  Philo,  whose 
commonest  titles  of  God  are  abstract  (e.g.  rb  &v,  rb 
BvTU!  6^,  rb  irpbs  a\ri6ii'bi>  &v,  6  &v — Drummond,  Philo 
Judmus,  ii.  20).  The  name  by  which  Jesus  Him- 
self addressed  God  was  also  the  name  which  He 
put  on  the  lips  of  His  disciples.  It  was  their 
privilege  to  share  His  communion  with  God  (Mt 
6"  23»). 

2.  The  Meaning  of  Fatherhood. — What  Jesus 
meant  by  the  term  '  Fatlier '  is  to  be  learned  both 
from  His  words  and  from  His  life.  From  His 
words  we  infer  that  He  chose  this  term  to  describe 
the  character  of  God.  Thus  He  teaches  that,  as 
it  is  the  very  nature  of  a  father  to  give  good  rffts 
to  his  children,  so  it  is  the  very  nature  of  God  to 
give  His  good  things  to  those  who  ask  Him  (Mt 
7",  Lk  11'^).  Earthly  fathers,  though  evil,  give 
to  their  children  j  much  more  will  God  give,  who  is 
absolutely  and  unchangeably  good  (Mk  10'*).  He 
is  ready  to  bestow  the  Kingdom  of  heaven  upon 
the  poor  in  spirit,  and  to  give  the  vision  of  Himself 
to  the  pure  in  heart  (Mt  5^-  *) ;  that  is  to  say.  He 
gives  the  best  He  has  to  any  who  will  receive  it. 
And  even  upon  those  who  will  not  receive  the 
best.  He  bestows  much  ;  for  He  raaketh  His  sun  to 
rise  on  the  evil,  and  sendetli  rain  on  the  unjust 
(Mt5«).  Jesus  exhorts  His  ht-nn-r^  to  Iiave  this 
spirit  in  order  that  they  m.iy  lir(  ,, 
heavenly  Father  and  sliaiv  Hi 
545. 48)_  Accordingly  the  tprnr  -I 
scribes  what  God  is  in  Hiiiiselt 
concern  merely  or  chiefly  His  relation  to  men, 
but  it  declares  His  verj-  spirit,  that  which  lies 
liehind  all  relationships. 

The  story  of  the  Lost  Son  perfectly  interprets 
Jesus'  conception  of  Fatherhood  (Lk  15"-3-).  The 
lost  son  does  not  stand  for  a  lost  Israelite  merely,  a 
fallen  member  of  the  theocratic  jieople,  but  repre- 
llicr  .lew  i>r  Gentile.     For,  in 


IS  of  the 

li.m   (Mt 


I  Iocs  not 


sents  the  . 


the  first  place,  the 
Jesus'  reception  of 
licans  were  rated  ; 
IS'') ;  and,  in  tlie  - 


en  to  justify 
•  ■),  and  i.ub- 
Gentiles  (Mt 
conclusion  „f 


Jesus  in  the  parables  of  the  Lost  Sheep  and  the  Lost 
Coin,  which  are  manifestly  parallel  to  that  of  the 
Lost  Son,  is  perfectly  general.  He  there  declares 
that  there  is  joy  in  heaven  over  one  sinner  who 
repents  (Lk  IS'-").  Therefore,  when  Jesus,  in  the 
story  of  the  Lost  Son,  says  that  the  father  watched 
and  longed  for  his  son's  return,  and  welcomed  him 
at  last  with  kisses  and  a  joyful  feast.  He  teaches 
that  the  Fatherhood  of  God  is  essential,  and  there- 
fore a  fact  of  universal  significance.  It  is  in  keep- 
ing with  tills  -when  Jesus,  addressing  the  multi- 
tttdes  as  well  as  His  disciples,  said  to  all  who  heard 
Him,  '  Call  no  man  your  father  on  earth  :  for  one 
is  your  Father,  who  is  in  heaven '  (Mt  23'- ").  If  we 
had  more  of  the  addresses  of  Jesus  to  the  niulti- 
tndes,  we  should  probably  have  more  instances  of 

A-ain,  the  M-ry  life  of  Jesus  shows  what  He 
iiieaiit  \<\  till-  Fatherhood  of  God,  for  He  surely 
felt  that  the  spirit  of  this  Fatherhood  was  mani- 
fested through  Him.  He  portrayed  His  own  atti- 
tude towards  the  lost  when  He  drew  the  picture  of 
the  father  and  his  lost  son.  His  brotherhood  in- 
terpreted the  spirit  of  the  Divine  Fatherhood.  But 
the  brotherhood  of  Jesus  describes  what  He  was. 
He  did  not  simulate  brotherliness.  It  was  by  the 
very  necessity  of  His  holy  and  loving  will  that  He 
was  the  friend  of  sinners.  It  is  impossible,  there- 
fore, to  suppose  that,  in  His  thought,  the  Father- 
hood of  God  was  sometliing  less  than  essential,  a 
figure  setting  forth  His  gracious  relationship  to 
certain  favoured  people.  As  His  own  love  flowed 
out  to  men  irrespective  of  all  merely  outward  <:ir- 
cumstances,  and  as  He  believed  that  He  knew  the 
Fatlier  and  was  in  harmony  with  His  will.  Ho 
must  have  believed  that  God  loves  men  irrespective 
of  all  outward  circumstances  ;  in  other  ■words,  that 
His  Fatherhood  is  essential,  and  hence  of  univer.sal 
significance. 

It  is  true  that  Jesus  considered  Himself  sent  to  the  lost  sheep 
of  the  house  of  Israel,  and  that  He  confined  His  labours  chiefly 
to  theui ;  but  it  is  equally  true  that  this  was  solely  a  matter  of 
order.  He  told  the  Canaanitish  woman  that  the  children  should 
be  iaA  first  (Mk  7^),  which  plainly  suggests  that  the  gospel  was 
for  all,  but  that  for  some  reason  it  was  to  be  offered  first  to  the 
Jews.  .Moreover,  He  granted  the  woman's  request,  though  He 
thus  spoke  ;  and  in  no  case  did  He  turn  a  Gentile  away  empty 
who  r^me  to  Him  for  help.  He  healed  a  Samaritan  leper  (Ljv 
17I»),  and  the  servant  of  a  Gentile  centurion  (Mt  S'S).  There  ia 
no  indication  that  they  were  less  dear  to  Hun  than  were  the 
Jews. 

We  conclude,  therefore,  both  from  the  words  and 
the  life  of  Jesus,  that  He  called  God  our  Father, 
not  because  Gotl  created  us, — a  view  common  in 
Pliilo, — or  because  He  rules  over  us,  or  because  of 
tlip  cm-iMiiiiit  wliich  He  made  with  Abraham,  but 
siin|ily.-niil  "iily  liecause  He  lovesus.  The  abstract 
stahiii.iii  ili.it  'God  is  love'  (1  Jn  4^)  is  a  true 
iiitcilii.iaiioii   of  the  word    'Father'  as  used  by 

3.  The  Fatlierhood  of  God  in  the  Fourth  Gospel. 
— The  Fatherhood  of  God  is  more  conspicuous  in 
John  than  in  the  Synoptics,  the  word  'Father' 
occurring  about  90  times  as  against  5  in  Mark,  17 
in  Luke,  and  45  in  Matthew.  Here  also,  as  in  the 
Synoptics,  the  word  is  found  only  on  the  lips  of 
Jesus,  with  the  exception  of  three  passages  where 
the  author  speaks  from  his  own  Christian  point  of 
view  (Jn  1^  8*'  13^),  and  one  passage  in  wliich  he 
attributes  his  Christian  usage  to  the  Baptist  (3'°). 

The  new  feature  of  tlie  .subject  in  the  Fourth 
Gospel  is  the  emphasis  laid  on  the  universality  of 
Fatherhood.  Thus  it  is  the  world  {Kbat^os}  wliich 
God  is  represented  as  lo'ving  up  to  the  point  of  tlir 
highest  sacrifice  (Jn  3'*).  It  is  all  men  whom 
Jesus  >vill  draw  unto  Him-ilf  (12^-).  In  oft'ering 
]iie  to  a,  Sanmrif  mi .  .Ii  -  .-  |.  cN  that  He  is  accom- 
plishing the  Fathi  )  ~  will  i!  '  '),  and  a  visit  of 
certain  Greeks  brou^iht  liuforc  His  soul  theWsion  of 
a  great  harvest  for  the  Kingdom  of  God  (12'^'-'). 


FATHER,  FATHERHOOD 


FATHER,  FATHERHOOD 


581 


Still  more  iioticoable,  and  inme  .liMT.m'iit  Imni 
the  earlier  usage,  is  the  emplnyiiHiit  nt  •  I'.illin  ' 
in  an  absolute  sense.  The  exti'iit  nt  thi- ii^:i;ji' in 
John  is  not  altogether  clear.  In  the  cinivir^iilinii 
with  the  Samaritan  woman,  Fatherhood  is  phiinly 
universal :  '  The  hour  cometh  and  now  is  w;hen  the 
true  worshippers  shall  worsliip  the  Fatlier  in  spirit 
and  truth  :  for  such  doth  the  Father  seek  to  be  his 
worshippers ' ;  '  Believe  me,  the  hour  cometh  when 
neither  in  this  mountain  nor  in  Jerusalem  shall  ye 
worship  the  Father '  (Jn  i^'-  ^).  Anotlier  passage 
which  admits  of  no  doubt  is  Jn  20"  '  I  am  not  yet 
ascended  to  the  Father.  But  go  to  my  brethren 
and  say  to  them,  I  ascend  to  my  Father  and  your 
Father,  and  my  God  and  your  God.'  It  is  quite 
clear  that  the  word  '  Father '  in  the  first  clause  is 
unlimited  ;  for,  in  the  later  clauses,  He  who  is  here 
called  '  the  Father '  is  called  by  Jesus  '  my  Father 
and  your  Father.'  Two  other  cases  of  what  ap- 
pears to  be  the  same  use  of  the  word  are  Jn  6-''-  ■"*. 

In  about  one  quarter  of  the  passages  where  God 
is  called  '  Father,'  He  is  so  called  in  reference  to 
Jesus,  and  the  language  is  '  my  Father '  {e.g.  Jn 
216  gi7  g3ii)_  Since,  now,  there  are  some  jjassages  in 
which  the  absolute  sense  of  '  Father '  is  required, 
and  since  in  the  majority  of  the  other  passages, 
where  the  expression  '  the  Father  '  is  used,  there  is 
notliing  which  requires  us  to  adopt  a  limited  idea 
of  Fatherhood,  it  must  be  regarded  as  probable 
that  the  author  always  employed  the  word  in  an 
unlimited  sense  wlien  he  did  not  associate  a  ]ier- 
sonal  pronoun  with  it.  Thus  the  Fourtli  (gospel 
would  place  a  very  striking  emphasis  on  tlie 
thought  that  the  Fatherhood  of  God  is  essential 
and  universal.  Such  emphasis  on  this  point  in  the 
teacliing  of  John  was,  of  course,  made  natural  by 
the  missionary  activity  of  the  early  Church,  which 
had  gone  forward  many  years  before  the  Fourth 
Gospel  was  composed. 

The  meaning  of  Fatherhood  in  the  Fourth  Gospel 
is  the  same  as  in  the  primitive  tradition.  It  de- 
scribes the  character  of  God,  and  is  expressed  in 
love.  It  is  perhaps  probable  that  the  author  of 
the  Fourth  Gospel  occasionally  used  the  term 
'Father'  in  a  metaphysical  sense  (l"-"),  but  he 
has  put  no  words  on  the  lips  of  Jesus  which 
require  to  be  taken  metaphysically.  He  often 
represents  Jesus  as  saying  '  my  Father,'  but  it  is 
unquestionable  that  Jesus  would  have  every  man 
address  God  in  just  this  way.  He  tauglit  His  dis- 
ciples to  say  'our  Father,' which,  <if  rduisc.  implies 
that  each  individual  may  say  '  mi/  l'':illic'v."  W'lien 
Jesus,  to  comfort  His  disciples,  is  ri'ini'scntrd  as 
sending  them  the  message,  'lascend  untcmiy  I'ather 
and  your  Father,  and  my  God  and  your  God '  (Jn 
20"),  He  does  not  separate  Himself  from  them  l)y 
claiming  a  unique  relationship  to  the  Father,  even 
God,  but  rather  joins  Himself  closely  with  them 
by  the  thought  that  one  and  the  same  Father  is 
theirs  and  His  alike,  one  God  the  God  of  both. 
The  Fatherhood  of  God  according  to  Jesus,  even 
in  the  Fourth  Gospel,  is  one  and  ethical,  but  His 
appreciation  and  appropriation  of  that  Fatherhood 
are  unique. 

4.  The  Place  of  Fatherhood  in  the  teaching  of 
Jesus.— In  accordance  with  the  fact  that  the  sole 
subject  on  which  Jesus  claimed  to  possess  unique 
knowledge  was  the  character  of  God,  or,  as  we 
may  now  say,  the  Fatherhood  of  God,  we  find  that 
this  truth  is  central  and  determinative  in  all  His 
teaching.  His  conception  of  the  Kingdom  of  heaven 
was  dependent  on  His  conception  of  the  cliaracter 
of  God.  The  Kingdom  which  He  wished  to  see 
come  on  earth  was  the  Kingdom  of  the  Father  (Mt 
6^),  a  Kingdom  in  which  the  will  of  the  Father 
should  be  done.  Therefore  the  conception  of  the 
Kingdom  of  heaven  is  not  the  fundamental  tliought 
of   Jesus.     Nor  was   His  teaching  determined  by 


II is  sense  of  the  imperfections  of  the  Law.  These 
imperfections  He  saw  clearly,  but  not  because  of  a 
( ritiial  analysis  of  the  Law  such  as  a  philosophical 
student  of  history  might  make.  He  considered 
the  Law  from  above,  as  one  who  iiossusscil  in  Him- 
.self  a  higher  standard,  a  more  ["iIimI  kii..\vledge 
of  the  Divine  wilh  His  work  w,,s,  i,,,!,.,.!.  lu  fulhl 
the  Law,  and  to  establish  tlic  Kin;^il(ini  of  God  on 
earth ;  but  the  inspiring  and  ruling  thought  in 
all  His  work  was  tlie  truth  of  God's  Fatheriiood. 
What  He  teaches  of  man's  relation  to  God  is  deter- 
mined by  this  truth.  It  is  gathered  up  in  the 
thought  of  sonship.  The  lost  son  is  to  return  to 
the  Father.  His  life  is  to  be  one  of  filial  service 
in  the  Father's  presence.  And  it  is  the  goodness 
of  the  I'ather  that  draws  him  back. 

The  Fatherhood  of  God  requires  that  the  spirit 
of  the  religious  life  shall  be  love,  out  of  which  will 
be  born  perfect  trust.  It  invites  and  draws  man 
to  communion  with  God,  and  determines  the  char- 
acter of  his  devotion.  What  Jesus  teaches  of 
man's  relation  to  man  is  al.so  determined  by  His 
consciousness  of  the  character  of  God.  His  morality 
is  purely  religious.  The  ethical  life  of  His  dis- 
ciples is  to  be  controlled  by  the  fact  of  their  son- 
ship  to  God.  The  standard  of  that  life  is  the  very 
quality  which  constitutes  the  perfection  of  God  (Mt 
5*).  It  is  one  and  the  same  quality  that  makes 
Him  the  Father  and  makes  man  His  son.  Thus 
the  entire  teaching  of  Jesus  is  but  the  interpreta- 
tion of  the  fact  of  God's  Fatherhood.  This  is  the 
sun  in  His  heaven  which  lights  and  warms  the 
broad  field  of  human  life. 

S.  Jesus'  conception  of  God  compared  with  that 
of  the  OT,  and  with  views  of  His  contemporaries. — 
The  new  revelation  which  Jesus  gave  of  the  char- 
acter of  God  was  put  into  a  term  which  had  long 
been  applied  to  Him  in  Israel.  The  first  of  the 
great  prerogatives  of  the  Jewish  people  which  are 
enumerated  by  St.  Paul  is  the  adoption  (Ho  9*), 
that  is,  the  appointment  of  Israel  to  be  in  a  peculiar 
sense  God's  son.  This  thought  was  derived  from 
the  OT.  God's  message  to  Pharaoh  by  Moses  in- 
volved a  paternal  relation  to  Israel,  for  Moses  was 
to  say  in  God's  name,  '  Israel  is  my  son,  my  first- 
born' (Ex  4=2).  Again,  Deuteronomy  represents 
Moses  as  saying  to  the  people,  'Asa  man  chasteneth 
his  son,  so  the  Lord  thy  God  chasteneth  thee'  (Dt 
8^  32'^)  ;  and  the  Lord  says  in  Hosea  that  when 
Israel  was  a  child  He  loved  him  and  callwl  His  son 
out  of  Egypt  (Hos  11'  1'").  In  thi's,.  passaLTs,  and 
in  a  few  more,  God  is  thou,i;ht  (.1  as  a  I'aihrr  to 
the  people  of  Israel  as  a  wlidc:  aial  ilr  is  the 
Father  of  Israel  because  He  made  tla'ni  a  nation 
and  established  them  by  His  mighty  power  (Dt  32"). 
So  far  His  Fatherhood  is  wholly  national.  There 
are,  however,  other  passages  in  which  we  have  an 
individualizing  of  the  thought  of  Fatherhood. 
Thus  the  Lord  says  of  the  theocratic  descendant 
of  David,  '  I  will  be  his  father,  and  he  shall  be  my 
son '  (2  S  7") ;  and  the  Messianic  king  puts  the 
decree  of  Jehovah  concerning  himself  m  these 
words,  'Thou  art  my  son;  this  day  have  I  be- 
gotten thee '  (Ps  2').  There  is  also  an  individual- 
izing of  God's  Fatherhood  with  reference  to  other 
persons,  for  the  Psalter  calls  Him  the  Father  of 
the  fatherless;  and  His  pity  for  those  who  fear 
Him  is  like  the  pity  of  a  father  for  his  children 
(Ps  es'^  103'^).  Yef;  in  all  these  passages  we  see  only 
the  relation  of  God  to  His  chosen  people,  or  to  a 
particular  class  among  them,  or  to  His  chosen 
king.  '  Father '  is  a  word  of  relation,  not  yet  a 
description  of  God's  very  character.  It  marks  an 
advance  upon  that  conception  of  Fatherhood  which 
is  derived  from  the  fact  of  creation,  but  it  is  still 
I  far  removed  from  the  view  of  Jesus.  The  OT 
gave  to  Jesus  the  name  '  Father '  for  God,  but  He 
I  filled  it  with  a  new  content. 


582 


FATHERS 


FATHER'S  HOUSE 


When  .ve  come  clown  from  the  OT  to  the  tune 
of  Jesv^s\ve  find  among  the  Jews  a  conception  of 
God  that  is  far  more  widely  unlike  that  o^  the 
gospel,  and  which  by  contrast  serves  to  bring  out 
theWtof  Jesusintostron|re^ief^  T^^^^^^^ 

LTr7re\Tti:n  of'the^La:  not  on  the  spiritual 
teachin  Tth,.  Pr.rliets.  God  wius  PUt  further 
andfunh.r  ..ay  :  tie  conception  of  Hun  became 
incrca~in  Jy  ali~ua.t  and  transcendental. 

v>»n  ,.  .  a-\v  1^  th-  translation  of  the  OT  into  Greek  (3rtl 
,..,„  ;  ,  )  tl,'  tendency  towards  a  more  abstract  ~n«P  ■»»  ^J 
.  i.l'i^  111  I'll  -t  The  translators  sought  to  remove  tne  inou„iii- 
,;;,(  i;."l  ImI  .ome  into  actual  contact  w  th  i  n  1"«  ' 
,„:;  'miI,  Ik  1.-5  call  God  a  man  of  -nar  but  render  tl  e  p^ 
^-^g^  b.v  the  Lord  who  makes  «ar      M  ■•         ^  ^'^ 

•  to  God  in  the  mount,"  as  the  or  ^  ^j 

goes  up  '  to  the  mojmt  of  God      SI  ,^^ 

not  see  the  God  of  Israel  (E\    4 

where  He  stood.  .    .         ,  .  s  of 

As  in  the  Greek  translation  of  t  ^^ 

Onkelos  and  Jonathan  (1st  cent  B  c  )  ^l  i 

safeguard  the  holiness  of  God  Mremmn  H  ir  ^  ^^  ^^^^ 
An  illustration  may  be  cited  from  t  n  l^       it  j 

the  heavenly  visitants  ate  of  the  repa-^t  11  "r-"^  ^^  ^^  ^ 
provided,  but  Onkelos  changes  it  to   Jt  ■  '  \\  tl    tl  e 

thevate.'    Such  was  the  method  of  the  T  r  t        "  ''    J,^^ 

removal  of  God  far  from  men  there  came  t  I  i  "it  ".  ( 
course  of  time  an  elaborate  doctrine  of   a  ■>  i    ""' ^j 

not  necessary  correlate  of  the  transcc    i     t  i     u      i 

°But  though  the  scribes  remo^ed  (  od  fir  fiom 
contact  with  man  and  the  world,  then  conception 
of  Him  was  unspiritual 

He  is  pictured  in  the  Talm  .d  "f  Jeruja  em  ■«  a  -e^t  Kf  b^ 

He  also  fulfils  the  injunction  to  r    e  1 1-  i    i  re  i  ^    ^ 

(!iee  Gfrorer.  Das  Jahrhiwl  rt  1      u  »„t,  on  of 

Woi.^pp.ir.lS)     Thust  eetral     eremoil  ept  on  o, 

reUgion  at  last  took  co.n,_^  te  ,  /^  «'  ,  '^,        .,,ound 

and  threw  the  mesh  of  Its  e     la        ,  "^i     „       ,  ,  f    i  ho  ah 

God  Himself.    The  prophet       I  ■■  ^     '    o       I '  ' 

was  lost ;  the  glow  of  lovin  kindne  3  1  VnPn  ^  ho  was 
l»?f.i='?fi°So,rS!?;Mn"ttrnr;er^a;s  to  L  scnbe    but 


cauea     tne  nwi>  w"<^,   ' 

whom  no  one  could  reall.. 

To  this  conception  of  Go  1 


Hi 


t  n  <  f  His 
trast 
Jesus 
tHe 

nces , 
1  1  onl\ 
I  I  iin  1  God 
thclather 
Jl  us  t 


10  tnis  concepLiuu  oi  ^" 
Fatherhood  by  Jesus  form    . 
The  scribes  put  God  in  tht 
taught  that  He  is  near      Tl 
is   intensely  concerned  witl 
Jesus  taught  that  He  is  full 
for  the  heart  of  man      To  t 
was  the  God  of  scribes    to  K 

of  all  men.  The  reluious  te  i  hti  t  Je  us  time 
fell  very  far  below  the  prophetic  conception  ol 
God  ;  Jesus  rose  still  further  abo^  e  it 

For  the  application  of  the  teim  'father  to 
Joseph,  see  artt.  BiRTH  OF  CHRIST  and  Joseph. 

IiTFRiTiBE  —The  works  on  XT  Theology  by  Holtzmann 
(H    .T.),"  Bevschlag,  Stevens,  and  Gould;    '■''''^^^f^ie  Uhrc 

/esu  ■  Gilbert  ThS  Revelation  of  Jejnis  :  Bousset,  2)ic  i!e£i<;ioii 
If  Ji<de  X"«-   B.  Weiss,  Die  Religion  .(,•>  XT;  Fairbairn 

Chrit7nMTTh.^l-  440 ff.  ;  Dale  in  Kxpo.itor   y.  vu.  11S98) 

se"  lio.  George  II.  Gilbert. 

FATHERS.— The  plural  of  'father'  is  found  in 
14  passages  in  the  Gospels,  once  (in  the  Greek) 
with  no  determining  word  (Lk  1"),  twicejvith  the 
article  only,  'the  fathers'  (J"  ^^^  RV„ '">■  ^"^  ]} 
times  with  a  pronoun:  'our  (->lt,f*  >  ^ij  '  '  ' 
Jn  4>»  6'');  'your'  <Mt  23^  I-k  11--/',  .In  b^)^; 
'their'  (Lk  6-^-='=).  With  one  exception  (Lk  1 ') 
where  it  means  'parents,'  as  contrasted  with 
'  children,'  it  is  always  employed  in  the  sense  of 
'ancestors,'  as  in  innumerable  pas.sages  in  the  Ui 
(Gn  47»  i  K  11«  14='  15*  etc.),  the  Apocrypha 
*a'^Sth;Pseudepigrapha(2Es7-Ps-Sol8-9-etc.), 
and  the  historical  Assyrian  texts  {mrrrmi  aht;a  = 
'  the  kings  my  fathers,'  KIB  ii.  1-0,  1 ,2,  etc. ! 

As  early  as  about  B.C.  200  the  Heb.  woul  ''.;'/' 
came  to  have  the  narrower  meaning  of  ■iistni- 
guTshed  ancestors.'  The  long  histoncal  review  in 
Sir  44-49  opens  (Heb.): 


The  fathers  praised  are  Enoch  Noah,  Abraha,m, 
Isaac  Israelf  Moses,  Aaron,  Plunehas,  Jos^.ua, 
Caleb  the  Judges,  Samuel,  Nathan  Bav.d  bolo- 
mon  EHiah.  lilisha,  Hezekiah,  Lsaiah,  Josiah, 
ri"miah,  Eiekiel,  Job,  the  Twelve,  Zerubbabel, 
Toshua  the  priest,  Kehemiah.  In  a  sort  of  ap- 
^endLK  (49»-^  are  given  Enoch  (again),  Josepl., 
Shem  Seth  Enos,  Adam.  The  Hebrew  heading 
o  these  cikpters,  'Praise  of  the  fathers  of  the 
world  'or  as'^owey  and  Neubauer  render, '  Praise 
of  the  patriarchs,'  cannot  be  urged,  as  it  may  be 
o  iuch  Iter  date.  The  Greek  heading  »a«p,.. 
1.     \s  of  more  value,,  as  it  may  ^e  Pre-Christiau. 

the  BabylonTan  Ttllmud  (Berak  166)  it  is  said: 
Onlv  three  are  called  fathers.'  It  is  assumed  that 
A^rSiam,  Is^c  and  Jacob  were  'the  ?^--^^- 
^-rrpllenre  The  group  is  referred  to  o  times  m  lue 
Cosoels  (Alt  »■'  22==,  J^Ik  12=^  Lk  13=«  20"),  and 
probably  without  the  names,  in  one  of  the  passages 
?[tedabo've  (Jn  7=  'not  that  it  [circumcision]  is  of 
Mosi  but'o^f  the  fathers  ■).     The  '  f-th^^' ^J- V" 

"t^  "f°no?able  piety  or  renown,  -re  especial^ 
tlie  three  patriarchs  who  were  regarded  as,  the 
nt^t Llgt^  tf  the  great  goodness  of  .son.  c^ 
the  fathers,''especially  of  Abraham,  ^vas  he  pf^  to 
their  sinful  descendants,  which  fo^^"/  «xpiessioii 
in  the  phrase  zcckhUk  'abvth  'merit  of  the  fathers 
ooftermetVithintheTd^^^^^^^ 
far  back  a^  the  time  of  Christ  and  the  Apostles^ 
It  probably  underlies  the  words  of  ^t.  Pau        tUej 
are  beloved  for  the  fathers' sakes    (Ko  11   )'/"^ 
evidently  lurks  in  the  proud  boast  of  being  the 
seed  of  Abraham  or  children  of  Abraham  (Mt  3', 
T^   18     Tt,  S33.3S  etc).     The  pluase,  however,  is 
never  "met  with  in  thi  GospelF.     The  allied  tel.ef 
that  te  holy  fathers  could  effectually  intercede 
for  thrir  Sed  descendants,  which  i«  di™ly 
attested  in  some  of  the  Pseudepigraphji  (Syr.  Apoc. 
:    Bar  85-  Sib.  Oracles  ii   330-333),  is  "npl-l^^^ 
the  parable  of  the  ^ch  Man  and  Lazarus.     1  he 
rich  man  in  Hades  appeals,  not  to  God,  but  to  one 
of  the  fathers  (Lk  16^^).     Still  tliere  is  no  direct 
mention  of  their  interces.sion  in  the  Gospels. 
The  use  of  the  term  'fathers'  in  the  sense  of 
distinguished  teachers  of  the  Law,  who  prolonged 
the  line  of  tradition  '  which  has  beconie  so  widely 
known    through    the   famous  Talnmdic    tractate 
ptkcAMh  o?  Massel-cth  ^bSth '}\^^nrevresentM 
in  the  Gospels,  unless  it  is  alluded  to  or  echoed  in 
the    title    'father'    applied    to    a    living    rabbi 
(>It23»). 

p^^^^5e.^r«^'^^^-«^«"^ 
etc.  292ff. ;  Schurer,  GJV^  ...  31,.  ^^^   ^^^_^^^  ^^^^^^ 

FATHER'S  HOUSE  {oUia  toO  ivarpis  MO.').— The 
name  appfied  by  Jesus  in  Jn  14=  to  the  eterna^ 
home,  w-1  ither  He  goes  to  prepare  a  place  for  His 
isdples.  To  their  fear  lest  they  might  nevei 
re  on  Him  after  the  impending  ^fPa^ation  He 
•wiswers  t)i  it  in  His  Father  s  house  there  are  many 
'  |„„!,.s  I  aovaD-yi  lilai'C,  therefore,  for  eveiyone  who 
l,i.li..ve~  in  Him.     See  .art.  MANSION. 


„         .  ..-..  t,.w>o  pKpwhere  in  the  Gospels,  with 

reiSe.^'^li^'^n.^c,  a;dV^o;:irSes  bears  a?emphat.c 


FATHER'S  HOUSE 


VEAU 


583 


meaning :  (a;  in  i^K  •^*^  tne  words  t*  rea  tow  Txrpot  f^ov, 
although  capable  of  the  translation  'about  my  Father's  busi- 
ness '  (as  in  AV),  are  more  properly  rendered  '  in  my  Father's 
house  *  (RV).  This  rendering  is  supported  by  the  context.  See 
Business.    Tlie  first  recorded  utterance  of  Jesus  has  an  all- 


of  manhood,  awakened  in  Him  the  sense  of  a  peculiarly  close 
relation  to  God,  whom  He  recognized  henceforth  as  His  Father. 
(6)  In  Jn  2'6  the  words  which  appear  in  the  Synoptic  nan-ative 
as  a  quotation  from  the  OT  ('  It  is  written.  My  house  shall  be 
called,'  etc.)  are  given  as  a  direct  saying  of  Jesus,  'Make  not 
my  Father's  house  a  house  of  merchandise.'  The  Speaker  thus 
declares  by  what  authority  He  cleanses  the  Temple.  As  Son  of 
God  He  has  the  right  of  ordering  His  Father's  house  and  casting 
out  the  intruders  who  have  dishonoured  it. 

The  '  Father's  house '  of  John  14=  has  been  ex- 
plained (on  the  analogy  of  the  above  passages)  as 
the  heavenly  Temple,  of  which  the  Temple  at 
Jerusalem  was  the  earthly  type  (ef.  Is  6',  He  9). 
Apart,  however,  from  the  particular  difficulty  that 
a  temple  could  hardly  be  described  as  a  place  of 
ji.ovts.1,  the  whole  tone  of  the  passage  demands  a 
simpler  explanation.  Jesus  thmks  of  the  'house' 
as  a  home,  to  which  He  is  Himself  returning,  and 
in  which  He  will  be  reunited  at  last  with  His 
disciples.  The  expression  '  Father's  house '  has 
already  been  used  implicitly  with  this  larger  mean- 
ing in  Jn  %^  'The  servant  abideth  not  in  the 
house  for  ever,  but  the  Son  abideth  for  ever.' 

Theolo^cally,  the  passage  Jn  14='-  marks  a  de- 
parture from  the  prevailing  type  of  Johannine 
thought.  It  withdraws  into  the  future  that  com- 
munion with  Christ  and  participation  in  His 
eternal  life  which  are  elsewhere  regarded  as 
present  realities.  It  further  identities  the  irapovaia 
with  the  coming  of  Christ  to  the  believer  in  the 
hour  of  death  (v.^),  not  (as  in  the  sequel  of  the 
discourse)  with  His  abiding  spiritual  prcseiin'. 
The  divergence,  however,  does  not  nrci^sanly 
involve  a  contradiction.  While  maint.-unini;  tli.it 
Life  is  given  in  the  present,  St.  John  Imiks  to  a 
future  in  which  it  will  become  fully  manifest 
(cf  5=8-  =9  6^  etc.).  For  the  believer,  as  for  Christ 
Himself,  death  is  the  transition  to  a  larger  'glory.' 

The  allusion  to  the  '  Father's  bouse '  is  ob\'iously 
figurative,  and  we  cannot  even  infir  truni  it  that 
St.  John  conceives  of  the  future  «iii  M  iiinlrr  forms 
of  space.  Such  a  conception  sirm,,  iii,lr..(l,  to  be 
debarred  by  the  great  declaratiuii  {i'-'j  of  the 
spiritual  nature  of  God.  The  essential  thought  in 
the  saying  is  simply  that  the  believer  will  enter 
after  deatli  into  that  perfect  communion  with  God 
which  is  impossible  under  the  conditions  of  this 
world.  In  more  than  one  Synoptic  passage  this 
communion  is  described  by  Jesus  under  the  imagery 
of  a  feast  (Mt  26-»  8",'Lk  14'™).  This  image 
is  replaced  in  the  Fourth  Gospel  by  the  less  vivid 
but  more  adequate  one  of  a  perpetual  sojourn  with 
the  Father  in  His  house.  But  in  both  cases  the 
image  is  only  the  vehicle,  necessarily  imperfect,  of 
the  spiritual  idea,  that  the  crowning  blessedness 
of  the  believer  will  consist  in  nearness  to  God  and 
perfect  fellowship  with  Him. 

This  main  idea  is  combined,  in  the  Johannine 
passage,  with  several  others  which  serve  to  render 
it  more  complete  an<l  definite  :  (1)  The  communion 
with  God  is  mediated  by  Christ,  who  is  Himself 
the  Son,  and  therefore  has  the  right  to  bring  His 
cho.sen  friends  into  His  I'.-uhn  s  house  (cf.  8^^- *= 
17=').  (2)It«-ill  1,,.;,  l;,-,|iiiu  roniMHinion,  not  fitful 
andinterruptL-.l  like  (Imt  \\liirli  i-  -laiited  to  us  in 
the  present.  Thosr  wlio  wpi-.^  formerly  servants 
ivill  '  abide  in  the  house  for  ever,'  like  the  Son 
Himself.  They  will  not  be  strangers,  tarrying  for 
an  hour,  but  will  have  /loval  appointed  to  them — 
fixed  places  which  they  can  call  their  own.  (3)  The 
emphasis  on  the  '  many  mansions '  would  seem  to 
suggest  that  the  perfect  communion  with  God  does 
not  involve  a  mere  absorption  in  Him.  Each  life 
will  maintain  its  own    identity  and    receive    its 


separate  fulfilment.  Jesus  will  be  the  .same  in  the 
higher  world  as  He  was  in  this,  and  the  disciples 
likewise  will  find  themselves  again,  and  resume 
their  fellowshi])  with  each  other  and  with  Him.  A 
certain  resemblance  can  thus  be  traced  between 
the  thought  of  this  passage  and  that  of  St.  Paul  in 
2  Co  S'"''.  The  Apostle  anticipates  for  each  believer 
'  a  house  not  made  with  hands,  eternal  in  the 
heavens,'  which  will  take  the  place  of  the  'earthly 
house  of  this  tabernacle.'  The  saying  in  the  Gospel 
declares  that  there  will  be  room  for  all  these 
separate  mansions  within  the  one  '  Father's  house.' 
Literature. — The  various  commentaries  on  St.  John's  Gos- 
pel, ill  loco,  e.g.  Holtzmann,  Loisy,  Weiss,  Buggc,  Calmes, 
Godet ;  Schrenck,  JXe  johann.  Aiischauung  vom  Leben  (1898), 
p.  167  f. ;  Grill,  Entstehung  des  vierteu  Evangeliumn  (1902),  p. 
360,  etc. ;  Titius,  Dk  johann.  Anschauung  der  SeUgkeit  (1900), 
eh.  vi.  ;  Ker,  Sermons,  ii.  247  ;  Madaren,  Hoi;/  of  Holies,  12. 

E.  F.  Scott. 
FAILINGS.— See  Animals,  p.  63">. 

FA  YOUR.— See  GRACE  and  Graciousness. 

FEAR  (^(i^os,  ./.o/Sof-Mai ;  in  Mt  8'*  and  Mk  4" '  fear- 
iul'  =  5ei\is). — 1.  In  many  pa.ssages  in  the  Go.spels 
fear  is  a  motive  restraining  or  compelling  action  in 
the  ordinary  course  of  human  relationships.  Men 
fear  others,  and  shape  their  conduct,  at  least  in 
part,  by  their  fears  :  e.g.  Mt  2-^  (.Joseph  is  afraid  to 
return  to  Judaea) ;  H'' (Herod  would  not  put  John 
to  death  because  '  he  feared  the  people ')  2P'^-  ^^ ; 
Mk  IP^  Lk  22-  (where  the  Pharisees  'fear  the 
multitude ')  ;  Mk  9^2,  Lk  9^'  (the  di.sciples  are 
'  afraid  to  ask '  tlie  meaning  of  a  saying) ;  Mk  ll'« 
(scribes  and  Pharisees  wished  to  destroy  Jesus,  '  for 
they  feared  him');  Jn  7"  9"  19^  20'"  (men  are 
.silent  or  secret  'for  fear  of  the  Jews').  SimUar 
passages  are  Mt  25=^  Mk  6™  12'=,  Lk  19='  20''  etc. 
Tliis  fear  sometimes  restrains  bad  men  from  carry- 
ing out  their  evil  purposes ;  but  quite  as  often 
turns  others  aside  from  the  straight  path  of  right. 

2.  The  Gospels  also  mention  frequently  the  fear 
which  men  feel  in  the  presence  of  what  they 
Ijelieve  to  be  supernatural  or  superhuman.  This 
is  often  an  accompaniment  of  the  miracles  of 
Jesus.  It  is  mentioned  of  the  disciijles,  at  the 
stilling  of  the  tempest  (Mk  4-",  Lk  8'-*),  when  Jesus 
walked  on  the  sea  (Mt  14=8,  ^k  6™,  Jn  G'"-  ™),  at 
the  Transfiguration  (IMt  17"- '  and  parallels).  So 
the  people  of  Judaea  were  afraid  when  they  saw  tlie 
demoniac  healed  (Mk  5'=) ;  so  '  fear  took  hold  on 
all '  when  the  widow's  son  was  raised  (Lk  7'") ; 
and  in  the  same  way  the  centurion  at  the  cross 
(Mt  27")  and  the  witnesses  of  the  Resurrection 
(Mt  28<-  s)  were  afraid  ;  cf  also  Lk  1'-  ^  2»  5=«  etc. 

3.  Especially  worthy  of  notice  are  those  passages 
in  which  Jesus  exliorts  His  hearers  not  to  fear. 
He  reassures  Jairus  when  word  conies  that  his 
daughter  is  dead  (Mk  5^,  Lk  8™) ;  and  Peter  when 
the  miraculous  draught  of  fishes  fills  him  with  a 
sense  of  sin  (Lk  5'») ;  He  meets  the  terror  of  the 
discij  les  on  the  sea  with,  '  It  is  I,  be  not  afraid ' 
(Mt  14=')  ;  and  touches  tliem  at  the  Transfigura- 
tion, with  similar  words  (Mt  17').  When  He  sends 
the  disciples  out  to  preach,  it  is  with  reiterated 
injunctions  against  fear.  The  servants  will  meet 
with  hostility  from  the  enemies  of  their  Lord  ;  but 
they  must  face  such  opposition  without  fear,  '  for 
there  is  nothing  covered  that  shall  not  be  revealed' 
(Mt  10=''"-').  They  are  to  be  fearless  preachers  of 
the  gospel,  because  no  hostility  of  men  can  prevent 
the  triumph  of  truth.  They  are  not  to  fear  even 
tho.se  who  can  kill  the  body,  for  their  power  is 
strictly  limited  to  the  body  (Mt  10=«,  Lk  12<) ; 
they  are  to  remember  God's  thought  for  the 
sparrows,  and  to  be  assured  of  the  greater  value  of 
the  servants  of  His  Kingdom,  and  so  to  escape  from 
fear  (Mt  10").  If  they  are  few  in  number  facing  a 
hostile  world— a  little  flock  surrounded  by  wolves 


584 


FEAH 


— they  are  to  remember  the  sure  purpose  of  the 
Father  and  not  to  be  afraid  (Lk  123-). 

Moral  courage  is  a  vital  necessity  of  Christian 
discipleship.  The  Master  is  keenly  conscious  of 
moral  paralysis  -nhich  conies  from  the  fear  of 
man.  Kev  21*  reflects  His  judgment  when  it 
groups  '  the  fearful '  with  '  the  unbelieving '  and 
'  the  abominable '  wlio  are  cast  into  the  lake  of 
fire  which  is  the  second  death.  And  in  our 
Lord's  teaching  faith  is  the  antidote  of  fear.  A 
true  knowledge  of  the  Father  is  the  unfailing 
source  of  moral  courage.  '  Acquaint  thyself  with 
the  Father  and  be  delivered  from  fear '  is  the  bur- 
den of  His  teaching.    See  Courage,  Cowardice. 

i.  The  almost  complete  absence  of  direct  exhor- 
tation to  fear  God  is  a  very  noticeable  feature  of  the 
Gospels.  The  fear  of  God  is,  indeed,  mentioned  in 
the  Afagnificai  (Lk  1^),  in  the  parable  of  the  Unjust 
Judge  (Lk  18^-  ■*),  and  by  the  penitent  thief  on  the 
cross  (Lk  23'"') ;  but  in  a  direct  injunction  of  Jesus 
only — if  at  all— in  Mt  10^  and  the  parallel  passage 
Lk  12*.  Here,  as  already  mentioned,  Jesus  is  sending 
out  the  disciples  mth  the  exhortation  not  to  fear — 
even  those  who  kill  the  body.  But  He  adds  to  the 
negative  a  positive  injunction,  '  Rather  fear  him 
who  is  able  to  destroy  both  soul  and  body  in  hell ' ; 
or,  as  Lk.  puts  it,  '  But  I  will  warn  you  whom  ye 
shall  fear :   fear  him  which  after  he  hath   killed 


majority  of  commentators  that  God  is  the  object 
of  fear* in  this  exhortation;  but  tliere  are  some 
who  urge,  on  the  contrary,  that  the  devU  is  in- 
tended. 

A.  B.  Bruce  ('St.  Matthew,"  in  Expositor's  Gr.  Test.)  says: 
'  Would  Christ  present  God  under  this  aspect  in  such  close  con- 
nexion «-ith  the  Father  who  cares  even  for  the  sparrows?  What 
is  to  be  greatly  feared  is  not  the  final  condemnation,  but  that 
which  leads  to  it — temptation  to  forsake  the  cause  of  God  out 
of  regard  to  self-int«rest  or  sell'-nre>._r\;irii.n.  sliorll\-.  the 
counsel  is:  fear  not  the  jHt-'     .■  >i   .  ,t  the 

man  who  kills  you  for  your  ii  i  ;it-  to 

buy  you  off,  and  the  de\il  V,  li  .  i  tThe 

NTin  Modern  Speck)  ui-r,  ,.  ,    ,-  ,|  ,hat 

iiofWoCLk  125) usually  deiiL.t-^    ,]    ,  ,.  r  en- 

joyed on  sufferance';  and  refers  to  Llv .:  I    .1  lis, 

and  Rev  13'  for  illustrations  of  the  a-  ~  itan. 

On  the  other  side  Plummer  ('St.  Luk>  '  .,m.1 

says:  'There  is  little  doubt  that  t 
the  devil.  The  change  of  constr 
no  longer  ?8(349>it£  i-ri  thWhv  but  t, 
trying  to  shun,"  which  is  the  usual 
Moreover,  we  are  not  in  Scripti 
him  courageously.' 

It  may  also  be  urged  that  the  extreme  punishment  of  the 
wicked  is  nowhere  described  as  an  exercise  of  .Satan's  authority. 
Gehenna  is  'the  eternal  fire  prepared  for  the  deiil  and  his 
angels '  into  which  in  Mt  2510-  Ji  those  on  the  left  hand  are  sent 
by  the  King.  The  ultimate  'destruction'  of  wicked  men, 
whatever  that  may  actually  mean,  must  be  conceived  as  an  act 
of  God  and  as  the  exercise  of  His  authority  ;  cf .  Mt  tV>^-  ■"  '  The 
Lord  of  the  vineyard  .  .  .  will  miserably  destroy  those  wicked 

S.  Looking  at  the  teaching  of  Jesus  as  a  whole, 
we  notice  that,  Avhile  He  constantly  urges  men  to 
faith  rather  than  to  fear,  and  to  a  trust  in  God's 
fatherly  goodness,  such  as  makes  filial  love  the 
rulmg  motive  of  religious  life.  He  does  not  alto- 
gether discard  the  a|i|M..d  to  f.M,  ,1,  ,-,  motive  for 
right  conduct.  Theri'  i-  ,i  ,r^.■liI^  ,,f  God  which 
cannot  be  ignored.  Sue  li  |i  ii;i1,1m-  .,,  the  Rich  Man 
and  Lazarus,  the  Unincniuil  Sijivaiit,  the  Wheat 
and  the  Tares,  and  other.s,  whatever  interpretation 
we  may  put  upon  tlieir  details,  at  least  suggest  a 
Divine  and  holy  sternness  in  regard  to  which  men 
should  keep  a  wholesome  fear.  Nor  is  it  only  in 
parables  that  we  find  this  element  of  our  L(inl'- 
teaching.  We  have  in  the  Sermon  on  the  Mcunt 
such  pa.ss.ages  as  Mt  5='-'"  7"- """''='■"  :  and  wiih 
these  we  may  compare  Mt  ll™-=<  123M6=- =«21^*'_'iv' 
and  many  others.  The  normal  relation  of  the 
children  of  God  to  the  Heavenly  Father  should  be 
one  of  glad  confidence  and  loving  obedience.  It 
bliould  be  ever  approaching  that  perfect  love  which 


told  to  fear  ^ 


>.     It  is 

'  fear  without 
f  fearing  God. 
n,  but  to  resist 


FEASTS 

casts  out  fear  ;  but  men  who  are  trilling  with  great 
moral  issues  have  no  right,  according  to  the  teach- 
ing of  Jesus,  to  this  happy  emancipation.  For 
them  fear  is  wholesome  and  necessary ;  for  God  is 
the  Holy  Father,  and  jjersistent  defiance  of  His 
will  must  be  visited  with  stem  and  righteous 
doom. 

Literature. — Cremer  and  Grimm-Thayer,  s.vv.  ^^t,  ^e^iot ; 
Hastings'  DB,  art.  'Fear' ;  Maclaren,  Serm.  pr.  in  Manchester, 
i.  194  ;  Blmyan,  Pilgrim's  Progress,  Christian's  talk  with  Hope- 
ful after  Ignorance  was  left  behind. 

E.  H.  TiTCHMAKSH. 
FEASTS.— The  religious  Feasts  of  the  Jews  in 
our  Lord's  time  were  not  so  many  as  the  religious 
Feasts  of  the  Christian  Church  of  to-day  as  enu- 
merated in  the  English  Book  of  Common  Prayer, 
but  they  meant  very  much  more  in  the  way  of 
outwarcl  observance.  In  the  first  rank  —  like 
Christmas,  Easter,  Ascensiontide,  and  Whitsun- 
tide— there  stood  out  the  three  great  Feasts  of 
Passover,  Pentecost,  and  Tabernacles.  Not  unlike 
the  Holy  Days  of  the  Church's  Calendar,  com- 
memorating as  they  do  various  victories  of  the 
past,  there  were  the  annual  Feasts  of  Dedication 
and  of  Purim,  to  which  must  be  added  the  Feast  of 
Trumpets  together  with  its  smaller  counterpart  in 
the  monthly  Feast  of  the  New  Moon.  Correspond- 
ing to  the  Christian  Sunday  there  was  the  weekly 
Feast  of  the  Sabbath.  Of  these,  Passover,  Taber- 
nacles, and  Dedication  are  all  specially  mentioned 
in  the  Gospels,  as  well  as  the  Sabbath,  to  which 
there  are  very  many  references,  some  merely  inci- 
dental and  some  meant  to  show  that  it  was  our 
Lord's  purpose  to  free  the  observance  of  that  day 
from  the  artificial  rules  that  had  grown  up  about  it 
in  tradition.  The  Feasts  are  most  prominent  in 
the  Fourth  Gospel,  where  they  are  so  mentioned  a.s 
to  form  a  framework  into  which  the  events  of  our 
Lord's  Ministry  fall.  Three  Passovers  are  tliere 
our  Lord  cleansed  the 
of  His  Mini.strj' ; 


recorded  : 
Temple  al 
(2)  6^  jusi 
(cf.  Mt  2t 
Crucifixioi 


have  been  - 


mnmg  „.  „„ ...^  , 

mg  of  the  5000 ;   (3)  13' 

-'2'),  at  the  time  of  tlie 

on. 

T  liat  the  reference  to  Passover 


inc  at  the  beginning  and  the 
1  contended  that  there  may 
irc  not  mentioned,  and  that 


Dl:. 


Ded: 
cularized   by 


)ree  Passovers,  mention  is  made 
liernacles  in  Jn  7',  of  the  Feast  of 
0~,  and  of  some  Feast  not  parti- 
e  in  Jn  5'.  To  these  St.  Luke 
adds  mention  of  an  earlier  Passover,  when  our 
Lord  was  12  years  old  and  was  for  the  first  time(?) 
allowed  to  accompany  Joseph  and  Mary  as  they 
went  up  to  Jerusalem  year  after  year  for  the  Feast 
(Lk  2^1^). 

The  Feasts  of  Pa-ssover,  Pentecost,  and  Taber- 
nacles were  all  of  them  Pilgrimage  Feasts,  that  is 
to  say.  Feasts  at  which  all  male  Jews  above  the  age 
of  12  years  were  required  to  appear  before  the  Lord 
in  Jerusalem.  It  is  noticed  in  Lk  2"'-  that  Joseph 
and  Mary  were  both  in  the  habit  of  going  up  to 
Jerusalem  for  the  Passover  everj-  year.  There  was 
no  requirement  that  women  should  thus  attend  at 
the  Fea'^ts,  but  Hillel  seems  to  have  encouraged  the 
practicr,  .-ind  it  was  a.lopteil  by  other  reli^ous 
«ni,i,.ii  lie^i.les  Mary  (Kdcrslieiiii",  Life  and  Times, 
vol.  i.  p,  2:^n).  St.  Luke  in  tlie  same  passage  speaks 
of  our  Lord  as  going  up  at  the  age  of  twelve ; 
that,  too,  was  in  excess  of  what  was  required  by 
law,  but  was  apparently  in  accordance  with  custom 
(so  Edersheim,  op.  cit.  p.  235  :  but  cf.  Schiirer,  ffJP 
II.  ii.  p.  51,  who  represents  that,  strictly  speaking, 


FFASTS 


bond  of  unonbet\eei  tl 

^;SfJer^'hH"hn"^f 

IS      He  q  otes  Philo 
M   in   thou'iand!,  of  peopk 
1  l^rimagcs  to  tlie  Temple 

1  \  seT   ind  coming  from 

1  of  Jews  m  Jerusalem  at 

manj  as  3,700,000  (BJ  VI. 

every  boy  who  could  w  ill  i  li(  1  Iiul  itt  i  1  1 
and  that  it  was  onl-v  U  i  iiitl  al  \  «1  1  1 
at  a  distance  weie  ilh  \    I  t  t  till  tl    n  t      I 

year  before  goin_)       \tt  ii  I  it  th    1  l  i  i    \ 

not  confined  to  thee  who  li\cl%Mthin  eisyreacli 
but  Jews  came  as  ^\ell  from  great  distance'. 
although  naturallj  thej  could  not  attend  so  often 
as  three  times  a  yeai 

Schiirer  WTites  (op  at   p   'Wf )      There  was  nothirn'  tl  it 
contributed  so  much  to  cement  the  bond 
dispersion  and  the  mother  co  mtr> 
which  Jews  from  all  i  larttr      f  tl 
making  to  Jems  1  f 

(tie  Monarchia 

at  every  festn  il 

the  east  and  the 

to  Josephus*  estim  lU     t  ih     nun  I 

the  time  of  the  I  e  ists   is  beiiifc  bo 

ix.  3). 

In  accordance  with  this  it  is  definitely  stated  in 
the  Gospels  that  four  times  during  His  Ministiy 
our  Lord  went  up  to  Jerusalem  to  keep  the  Feasts, 
twice  for  Passover,  once  for  Tabernacles,  and  once 
for  an  unnamed  Feast.  Possibly  He  went  up  quite 
regularly  three  times  a  year,  for  the  notice  that  He 
was  in  Galilee  .shortly  before  the  second  Passover 
(Jn  Q^)  does  not  preclude  the  possibility  of  His 
having  gone  up  a  little  later.  At  the  first 'Passover 
mention  is  made  of  His  disciples  being  witli  Him 
in  Jerusalem  (Jn  2"-  -),  evidently  having  journeyed 
from  Galilee  with  the  same  purpose  as  Himself,  to 
keep  the  Feast.  Similarly  at  Tabernacles  it  is 
stated  that  His  lirethren  went  up  from  Galilee  to 
keep  the  Feast  (.In  7'").  In  all  the  Gospel  references 
to  Passover  and  Talicrnacles  the  impression  is  given 
of  lar^e  crowds  of  Jews  in  Jerusalem.  At  the  Feast 
of  Dedication  also  our  Lord  was  in  Jerusalem,  but 
that  was  simply  because  His  work  at  that  time  lay 
close  by.  He  did  not  go  up  to  Jerusalem  on  pur- 
pose for  it,  since  no  pilgrimages  were  made  except 
at  the  three  great  Feasts  ;  but  being  close  at  hand 
He  liked  to  mark  the  occasion  by  a  visit  to  the 
Temple,  and  there  found  a  considerable  number  ot 
Jews  resident  in  the  neighbourhood  who  had  been 
attracted  thither  like  Himself.  See,  further,  the 
sep.  artt.  on  DEDICATION,  PAS.SOVER,  etc. 

As  regards  the  nnnimpd    F.'nst  of  .Tn  r.'.  it  is  impossthlc  to 

reach  anv  certaini\  ,i-  i..  «  h  :i  i'.-  i-i  i  -  rn.  iri. .;  \\  f  ,■■  .■>.ri-r.-t 
reading  were  v;  ;'   -       i         .   I  '  I  ,  i-,   >, 

Tabernacles,  wbiili  ■■  I !  "     '  ' 'ii 

on  I.s30»);  hut  it  in-  mhi.  I-  i,  ..-  ■ -' -  n 

should  be,  the  exprcs^iwu  ;.-.  liLiili;  jnl.  IIiull.  .luI  ini^i^l  v  i'  v  \" 
either  Tabernacles  or  Passover  or  Pentecost,  or  to  an,\-  of  the 
smaller  Feasts. 

In  attempting  to  decide  between  these,  guidance  maj-  first  be 
sought  from  the  general  sequence  of  events,  so  far  as  it  is  indi- 
cated bv  th  ng  no 

(1)  Pass  1  a    h       A         Jn 

(2)  A  re  o  ha 

(3)  This  d  F  a     Jn 

(4)  A  se       d  P      0 
Thus  it  b       h 

dent  conn       d       h 
does  not,  h  g 

mean  eith       h 

whether  th  d  n     h 

April  or    n  m  d     n 

Dedication  (D     )   nd  P  (P  b )  h       n     P 

chronologica  b  a  k  n    d  n 

happened  at  harvest,  then  the  chronology  would  admit  almost 
an.\'  of  the  Feasts,  cither  Pentecost  (.May),  (ir  Trumpets  (Sept.),  or 
Tabernacles  (Sept.),  or  Dedication  (Dec),  or  Purim  (Feb.).  Thus 
the  setting  of  the  incident  is  quite  indeterminate.  In  the 
description  of  the  incident  itself  there  are  two  points  that  need 


FFEDING  THE  MULTITUDES     5S5 


1  t  all  the  smaller 

I  t  St  John  s  use  of 

1 1  ree  great  Feast« 

lecall  the  exact 

II  1     1  in  his  imnd  and 

ad  hap(-ei  e  t    i  oi  e  of  the  ( 


uch  : 


1  be  noticed.  The  one  is  that  the  introductory 
as  to  suggest  that  the  only  reason  for  mentic 
all  is  to  explain  our  Lord's  "presence  in  Jerusal 
things  there  was  a  Feast  of  the  Jews,  and 
Jerusalem.'  Since  there  were  only  ttiree  Fea 
the  strictest  Jews  went  up  to  .Tcnisalnii.  it 

cost,  or  Taberiiar],  -       M  i  ]■,•  ^n  ii;.  t  1.  :i  i    i. 

the  Temple  couii- '    :     i     n^ 

Accordingly,  tlluu-[i  i'l.lini  nu;,    -  .  u:  .-l;iUU^!'- 

quite  fails  to  explain  the  one  fiindaiuental  fai 


tl  ere  IS  1  ■)    ee  1  to  teel  disappointment  j 
I  ation  o    II      1     1 1  f  some  part  of  the  significance  of  the 

dent  I    t  tl  1        h  i^noiance  of  its  o  casion    for  the 

1    t  I  ]i      1 1  a\  e  droi  1  ed  out  of  St  John  sniemorv 

a  tl  \  1  I  tl  111  een  essential  to  the  understandmg  of 
on  I  Old  s     ui  I      1  a  t    I        See  also  art  Mimstr^ 

C    E    &ARRAD 

FEEDING  THE  MULTITUDES.-The  Gospels 
^'ive  us  two  accounts  of  multitudes  miraculously 
fell  by  our  Lord.  In  the  first  instance  (reported  in 
Mt  14'=-=',  Mk  G^-»,  Lk  9'=-",  Jn  6=->»)  the  number 
is  given  as  5000,  exchisive  (so  Mt.)  of  women  and 
children.  In  the  second  instance  (reported  in  Mt 
15''=-™,  Mk  8'-9)  tlie  number  is  given  as  4000,  Mt. 
again  adding  women  and  children. 

1.  It  will  be  better  to  consider  these  instances 
separately,  and  to  treat  the  feeding  of  the  5000  in 
the  light  of  the  first  three  Gospels.  The  Synoptics 
agree  that  the  place  was  .a  desert  one  on  the  east 
side  of  the  Sea  of  Galilee  ;  .and  Lk.  fixes  it  at 
Bethsaida  Julias  (see  Capernaum).  Mk.  and  Lk. 
connect  the  withdrawal  to  this  place  with  the 
return  of  the  Twelve  and  their  report,  Mt.  with 
the  execution  of  John  the  Baptist.  Mk.  seems  to 
be  correct,  since  he  gives  the  specific  reason  that 
they  needed  rest,  which  they  could  not  otherwise 
secure.  All  agree  that  a  \-ast  multitude  followed 
them  to  their  place  of  resort,  tlius  defeating  their 
purpose,  and  that  it  was  the  disciples  who  called 
the  attention  of  Je.sus  to  the  needs  of  the  jieojile. 
Jesus  then  commanded  His  disciples  to  provide 
food  for  the  mttltitude.  One  feels  that  He  was 
prcp.nring  their  minds  for  wlirtt  He  was  about  to 
do.  Tlicir  .•i-lniiish,,,,.,,!  :il  HiMi.iiimand  led  them 
lol».inl  oni  llic  iiiip'i^sil.ilily.  if  not  absurdity,  of 
till'  lri|iiii-iiiiriil,  siller  tln-y  llild  liut  five  loaveS 
and  two  lishes.  Then  follows  the  :is(un7iding  order 
to  seat  the  people  in  groups  easily  acicssilih;  to  the 
disciples,  the  ble.ssing  of  tlie  ln.ivcs  and  llslies,  the 
disfi-iliiition  of  the  meagre  su]iply,  tlic  ^.-itisfaction 
.if  I  111-  hunger  of  all,  and  the  gathering  up  of  the 

uiiiiijits  have  been  made  to  rob  this  account 
I  if  i(s  miraculous  character,  the  favourite  method 
being  to  assume  that  the  evident  determination  of 
Jesus  to  assuage  their  hunger  induced  those  in  the 
vast  company  who  had  supplies  of  food,  to  share, 
"n  tl  e  p'  ''t  of  Je  u  tl  tl  o  e  1  o  1  ad  none. 
Tl  e  d  ffic  Ity      tl   tl      e  pi  n  t  on      tl  at  tl  e  lis- 

1  le        1  o  1  ad  eve  y  oj  j     t       t>  of    ee  n        1  at 

do  e    tl  ou  1  t  tl  at  tl  e         It  t    le  fed 

tl   tl     h      1  1  t       i    1       onl-y      A  a  nst 

1  I        Ml  I  e    dence    as 

1  II  II  1  /   /  330)      The 

1  111  1  o        tl  at 

1    11    J  1  tl      I      1       tl        1  t  of  tl  e  trans- 

a  t  on    a  ra     lou  VI     tt    „  tl  e  acle, 

some  have  tl  o  1  t  to  e  j  la  t  a  a  n  aculous 
satisfaction  of  hunger  with  a  little,  rather  than  as 
a  multiplication  of  the  loaves  and  fishes.  This  is 
contrary  to  the  text  in  all  four  of  the  Gospels, 
which  unite  in  saying  that  twelve  baskets  of 
fraynients  were  taken  up.  This  would  be  more 
lliiiii  llwiv  «i-  al  til.'  lif.-innin-  (src  art.  T.ASKET), 
il.a  ^\yuv^\\^  ■  iiliiiiinu'  llii-  mill  I  i|il  i.vi  li..ll.  We 
;ii  ■  -lull  iiji.  nm  11.  I.,  till'  allrnial  iM'  nf  ir,i,'arding 
ilir  iirimiMi  :i.  li-. .J, .Hilary,  m-  c'Isi-  .-is  a  iniraculous 
iiiiilli|ili.ali.iii    i.f    tlieir'fooil  supplv-      There   are 

iiiii.'  dilii.nlli.'s  in  the  way  of  believing  it  mirac- 
ulous. (I)  'I'lio  i|uestion  of  Jesus,  'How  many 
lii:i\i's  lia\i'  vi-'/'  reminds  one  of  the  question  of 
1  Elisha  (2  K  4-),  'What  hast  thou  in  the  house  ?' 


FEEDIXG  THE  MULTITUDES 


FEET 


and  so  suggests  an  imitation  of  Elisha's  miracle,  as 
in  fact  the  whole  process  of  multiplication  suggests 
the  miracle  of  the  meal  in  the  jar  and  the  cruse  of 
oil  of  1  K  !?"■'*.  (2)  The  record  is  a  trifle  obscure. 
The  whole  stress  is  on  the  loaves,  both  in  the 
gathered  fragments,  especially  in  Jn. ,  and  in  the 
subsequent  references  of  Jesus  (see  Mk  8"),  while 
the  fisli  are  ignored.  (3)  Usually,  also,  Avhen  such 
a  miracle  wiis  perfonned,  the  observers  are  said 
to  have  been  profoundly  impressed  (see  Mk  4^' 
5-12  'jjrj^  jjut  here  no  comment  follows.  (4)  Besides, 
it  seems  to  be  in  contradiction  of  His  avowed  pur- 
pose not  to  give  the  Jews  what  would  be  to  them 
a  convincing  sign.  As  to  all  but  the  last  of  these 
difficulties,  it  may  be  said  that  they  are,  in  them- 
selves, not  serious.  The  fourth  assumes  that  the 
miracles  of  healing  would  not,  but  that  a  miracle 
such  as  the  feeding  would  convince  the  Jews,  and 
so  be  just  the  kind  of  si^n  the  Jews  demanded. 
But,  in  fact,  the  sign  the  Jews  required  and  Jesus 
refused  to  grant  was  some  miracle  performed  to 
order,  and  regardless  of  human  need.  Such  a 
miracle  as  the  feeding  lacked  these  two  character- 
istics. It  was  spontaneous,  and  it  met  a  human 
want.  In  favour  of  the  historicity  of  the  miracle 
is  the  further  fact  that  it  is  recorded  in  all  the 
Gospels.  The  tradition  was  not  open  to  question 
in  the  mind  of  any  one  of  the  Evangelists. 

2.  With  regard  to  the  second  recorded  instance, 
the  feeding  of  the  4000,  the  case  is  quite  different. 
It  is  found  in  but  two  of  the  Gospels.  Lk.  and  Jn. 
evidently  thought  of  but  a  single  feedin''.  It  is 
easy  to  see  how  the  second  account  might  have 
grown  out  of  the  first,  and  the  similarities  are  so 
great  as  to  suggest  that  it  did  have  its  origin  there. 
The  question  of  Jesus  concerning  the  number  of 
loaves,  the  remarkable  circumstance  that  a  second 
time  the  disciples  had  so  little  food  with  them,  the 
seating  of  the  people  on  the  ground,  the  distribu- 
tion to  the  Twelve  for  redistribution  among  the 
multitude,  the  eating  until  they  were  filled,  tlie 
gathering  of  the  broken  pieces  into  baskets,  are 
suspiciously  like  the  feeding  of  the  5000.  It  is 
difficult  to  .see  how  the  disciples,  with  the  memory 
of  the  feeding  of  the  5000  fresh  in  their  minds, 
could  have  questioned  Jesus  as  to  the  source  of 
supply  for  this  second  company.  And  here  it  is 
that  the  narrative  as  given  by  Jn.  sheds  light  on 
the  question  under  consideration.  Jn.  betrays  the 
fact  that  the  same  narrative  was  diH'erently  told, 
since  he  combines  elements  of  both  narratives  as 
related  by  Mt.  and  Mark.  Mt.  places  the  second 
feeding  on  a  mountain  ;  Jn.  locates  the  feeding  on  a 
mountain.  Jn.  and  Mt.  and  Mk.  (second  instance) 
agree  that  Jesus  proposed  the  feeding.  ]\Ik., 
according  to  his  usual  custom  of  emphasizing  the 
teaching  as  primary,  and  of  making  the  miracles 
secondary,  makes  Jesus  teach  the  shepherdless 
sheep  out  of  sympathy,  whUe  Mt.  makes  this 
sympathy  prompt  Him  to  heal  them,  and  Lk. 
combines  the  two  ;  this  in  the  first  feeding.  In 
the  second  this  sympathy  was  elicited  by  their 
hunger.  In  the  second  the  point  of  difficulty  with 
the  disciples  (according  to  Mt.  and  Mk.),  or  with 
Je.sus  (according  to  Jn. ),  was  not  tlie  expense,  as  in 
the  first,  but  that  of  -ecurin-  so  uiurli  f,.,,,l  in  a 
desert  place.  Tlii^  i  rvt.iinU  hi.ik^  a--  th'.iii^h  .Jn. 
had  heard  b..tli  arr,,„nt-.  and  (h-lilHTai.^ly  un.ler- 
took  to  comliiiii'  tliem  iiit.i  one  or  I'Nc  a~  though 
the  difierences  in  the  account  of  the  same  story 
led  Mt.  and  Mk.  to  believe  that  there  were  two 
feedings.  In  any  case  Lk.,  by  implication,  and 
Jn.,  almost  directly,  favour  the  single  feeding— 
that  of  the  5000.  The  only  serious  difficulty  in 
this  elimination  of  the  second  feeding  is  the  record 
in  Mk  S'"-'"'  (cf.  Mt  le"- '»),  according  to  which 
Jesus  is  made  to  refer  to  the  two  feedings  as 
separate  events.     The  denial  of  the  second  would 


make  it  necessary  to  affirm  that  the  words  of 
Jesus  are  incorrectly  reported.  But  here  Mt. 
is  evidently  dependent  upon  the  collection  of 
narratives  by  Mk. ,  not  Jlk.  upon  the  collection  of 
sayings  made  by  Matthew.  Mt.  and  !Mk.  are  not 
two  independent  witnesses.  We  may  not  be  able 
to  account  satisfactorily  for  the  misunderstanding 
of  Mk.  in- this  case,  but  his  testimony  could  hardljy 
ofl'set  that  of  Jn.,  unless  we  were  obliged,  which 
we  are  not,  to  suppose  that  Mk.  got  his  informa- 
tion on  this  point  directly  from  Peter.  Even  if 
this  were  so,  we  should  have  to  make  our  choice 
between  Peter  and  Jn.,  which,  in  view  of  all  the 
facts,  would  turn  out  in  favour  of  the  latter. 

The  significance  of  the  feeding  of  the  multitude 
for  the  humaneness  of  Jesus  is  not  less  great  than 
that  of  the  healings.  The  power  was  His,  and  He 
used  it  for  the  good  of  His  fellow-men  in  whatever 
way  was  needful  for  their  immediate  welfare,  and 
for  setting  an  example  of  helpfulness  in  the  everj-- 
daj;  affairs  of  life  to  His  disciples  in  all  the  cen- 
turies to  follow. 

Literature.— Trench  and  Taylor  on  Miracles;  Edersheini, 
Ly'/e  and  Times^  i.  6T5ff.,  ii.  63  ff.  ;  Andrews,  Life  of  our  Lord 
[1893  ed.],  320£f.,  333£E. ;  Bruce,  Training  of  the  Tu-elce,  118; 
Westcott,  Gosp.  of  St.  John,  in  loc. 

C.  W.  RiSHELL. 

FEET.  — The  word  occurs  frequently  in  the 
Gospels.  Figuratively  it  has  a  wide  range  of 
meaning.  It  is  emplojed  in  phrases  which  express 
worthlessness  ('  to  be  trodden  under  foot,'  Mt  5'^), 
supplication  ('fell  at  his  feet,'  ilk  5~  7^),  great 
honour  or  reverence  (Lk  V^'''^  the  woman  who 
kissed  Jesus'  feet;  Jn  11=  Mary;  Mt  28'  'held 
him  by  the  feet'),  ignorant  or  blasphemous  con- 
tempt (Mt  7"  'trample  under  foot'),  righteous 
condemnation  or  rejection  (Mt  10"  '.shake  dust 
off  feet '),  salvation  through  sacrifice  (Mt  18' !!  Mk 
9^^  cutting  off  hand  or  foot),  discipleship  (Lk  8" 
cured  demoniac  sitting  at  Jesus'  feet ;  \&^  Mary), 
helplessness  (Mt  22'^  'bind  band  and  foot'),  com- 
plete triumph  (Mt  22-"i|Mk  12^1lLk  20"  enemies 
of  Messianic  King  put  under  His  feet),  absolute 
safety  (Mt  4''[|Lk  4"  'lest  thou  dash  thy  foot 
against  a  stone'),  subjection  (Mt  5^*  earth  the 
footstool  of  God's  feet).  In  washing  the  feet  of 
the  disciples  Jesus  inculcates  lessons  of  humility, 
mutual  service,  and  the  need  of  daily  cleansing 
from  sin  (Jn  IS^").     See  artt.  Basox,  Foot. 

Of  the  feet  of  Jesus  Himself  mention  is  made  in 
the  NT  very  frequently.  Before  His  feet  suppli- 
ants fell  down  (Mk  o--  7==,  Lk  8^'),  and  also  a 
Samaritan  who  returned  to  gi\'o  thanks  (Lk  17'"). 
At  His  feet  sutl'erers  were  laid  to  be  healed  (Mt  15=°). 
Neglectful  of  the  courtesies  of  a  host,  Simon  the 
Pharisee  gave  Him  no  water  to  refresh  His  feet 
(Lk  7") ;  but  a  sinful  woman  on  the  same  occasion 
Avet  His  feet  Avith  her  tears,  wiped  them  with  the 
hair  of  her  head,  kissed  them,  and  anointed  them 
with  ointment  (7^-  "^O ;  and  Mary  of  Bethany 
showed  her  great  love  and  gratitude  in  a  similar 
fashion,  wlien  she  lavished  the  contents  of  her 
alabaster  cruse  of  precious  spikenard  (Jn  11"  12^; 
cf.  Mt  26',  Mk  14^)  upon  the  feet  which  had 
brought  the  Lord  from  beyond  Jordan  (.Jn  10^"  IF) 
to  speak  the  life-giving  word  at  her  brother's  grave 
(lljjf.)  At  Jesus  feet  the  restored  demoniac  sat 
(Lk  8^),  like  Mary  afterwards  when  she  'heard  his 
word'  (\(P).  The  two  angels  who  guarded  the 
.sepulchre  were  seen  sitting  '  tlie  one  at  the  head, 
and  the  other  at  the  feet,  where  the  body  of  Jesus 
had  lain'  (Jn  20"=).  It  was  His  feet  that  the 
two  Marys  clung  to  when  they  first  met  Jesus  on 
the  Resurrection  morning.  [T'liough  love  prompted 
them  to  lay  hold  of  Him,  did  reverence  forbid 
them  to  touch  more  than  His  feet?].  AVhen 
Jesus  in  the  upper  room  slio«ed  His  hands  and 
His  feet  to  His  disciples  (Lk  24="'-),  it  was  doubtless 


FELLOWSHIP 


FELLOWSHIP 


587 


to  prove  to  them  that  He  who  now  stood  before 
them,  was  the  same  Jesus  who  by  hands  and  feet 
had  been  nailed  to  the  cross  (cf.  Jn  20-''-  -'•  -').  St. 
Paul  says  of  the  ascended  Christ  that  all  things 
are  put  under  His  feet  (Eph  1-),  and  that  beneath 
His  feet  deatli  itself  shall  be  destroyed  (1  Co  15"-^<^-). 
And  in  the  IJook  of  Revelation,  when  the  heavenly 
Jesus  appears  to  the  seer  of  Patmos,  the  place  of 
His  feet  has  been  made  glorious  (cf.  Is  60").  Those 
feet  which  were  dust-stained  in  the  house  of  Simon 
the  Pharisee,  and  weary  by  the  well  of  Sychar  (Jn 
4"),  and  pierced  with  nails  on  the  cross  of  Calvary, 
are  now  '  like  unto  Kne  brass,  as  if  they  burned  in 
a  furnace'  (Rev  1'^,  cf.  2'"). 

It  has  been  questioned  whether  the  feet  of  Jesus 
were  nailed  to  the  cross.  The  doubt  is  based  on 
the  facts  that  in  the  Fourth  Gospel  Jesus  men- 
tions only  His  hands  and  side  (Jn  20="),  and  that 
sometimes  in  crucifixion  the  feet  were  simply  tied 
to  the  cross.  The  nailing  of  the  feet  of  Jesus 
would  not  have  been  disputed  were  it  not  part 
of  an  argument  to  prove  that  He  did  not  really 
die  on  the  cross.  '  That  the  feet  were  usually 
nailed  (in  crucifixion),  and  that  the  case  of  Jesus 
was  no  exception  to  the  general  rule,  may  be 
regarded  as  beyond  doulit'  (Meyer  on  Mt  27^*). 
There  is  a  difference  of  opinion  as  to  whether  the 
feet  of  Jesus  were  nailed  to  the  cross  separately, 
with  two  nails,  or  the  one  over  the  other  with  the 
same  nail.  In  early  art  the  feet  are  more  fre- 
quently represented  as  separately  nailed,  but  in 
later  art  as  nailed  together,  the  one  over  the  other. 
Tradition  favours  the  opinion  that  the  feet  were 
nailed  separately.     See  art.  Crucifixion. 

LiTERATDRE.— Meyer's  Com.  on  St.  Matthew;  EUicott,  His- 
torical Lectures  on  the  Life  of  Our  Lord^  p.  353 ;  Andrews, 
Bible  Student's  Life  of  Our  Lord^,  p.  462  f. 

John  Reid. 
FELLOWSHIP.— 

Neither  the  word  'fellowship*  (xoivuvia.)  nor  any  equivalent 
term  occurs  in  the  Synoptic  Gospels,  but  the  reality  in  faith, 
love,  and  joy  is  diffused  like  the  fragrance  of  the  flowers  of 
Galilee  through  that  bright  spring:  of  the  world's  life.  As  we 
pass  to  the  Acts  and  Epistles,  especially  the  Pauline,  the  word 
is  found  in  a  variety  of  meanings.  Most  frequently  it  is  trans- 
lated '  fellowship '  (Ac  2''2,  1  Co  19,  2  Co  6"  8^,  Gal  29,  Ph  15  21 
310).  It  is  rendered  '  communion  '  in  1  Co  1016  (RVm  '  participa- 
tion in')  and  2Col3U;  'contribution'  (AV  'distribution')  in 
2  Co  913,  cf.  Ro  1526;  'communication'  (RV  'fellowship')  in 
Philem  6,  cf.  He  1316.  ThouR-h  ».,»^»,a  occurs  only  three  times 
in  the  Johannine  writings  (1  Jn  l^'-  «■  ^),  they  are  peculiarly  rich 
in  the  religious  ideas  which  give  the  term  its  content.  The  con- 
ception of  fellowship  in  the  NT  is  not  exhausted  by  the  varied 
significations  of  any  one  word  ;  it  becomes  plain  only  as  we 
comprehend  the  meaning  of  the  life  of  the  Early  Church. 

i.  Inherited  forecast.?.  —  Like  most  of  the 
great  religious  conceptions  of  the  NT,  this  idea 
has  its  roots  deep  in  the  OT.  Isaiah  proclaims 
that  the  religion  of  I.srael  can  find  its  truest  ex- 
pression only  in  a  spiritual  fellowsliip  of  faith, 
independent  of  a  national  framework.  In  Israel 
there  is  an  imperishable  reiiinaiit,  a  stock  from 
which  new  life  will  spring  fcntli  after  desolation 
has  swept  over  Jerusalem  (Is  s"'"  .'{T-''- '-).  By  the 
time  of  Jeremiah  the  disaster  of  the  nation  had 
become  so  irretrievable  that  the  prophet  hardly 
dares  to  hope  for  more  than  the  salvage  of  indi- 
viduals from  the  wreck  ;  but  these  rescued  ones 
will  form  the  true  Israel  under  a  new  covenant 
(Jer  23^-8  3PiT).  The  Messianic  blessedness  which 
those  ]irophets  foresaw  ci insisted  of  an  intimate 
fellowship  which,  in  the  <'oming  days,  the  redeemed 
company  of  Israel  would  enioy  with  Jehovah  (Ii 
498-13,  Jer  Spif-).  It  wa 
Israelites  because  it  was 
with  Israel's  God  (Is  52''- 
fellowship   finds  nowhere 

than  in  the  Psalter.  That  storehouse  of  religious 
devotion  is  filled  with  prayers  of  communion  with 
Jehovah,  the  supremely  moral  Person,  righteous, 
faithful,  holy,   yet  full  of   loving-kindness,   who 


to  be  a  fellowship  of 
primarily  a  fellow.ship 
(iO).  This  thought  of 
i-ivid    expression 


satisfies  the  needs  of  man  by  bringing  him  into 
fellowship  with  Himself  (Pss  16.  34.  40.  63). 
Though  iiKiiiy  of  the  psalms  seem  to  be  the  utter- 
ance of  individual  yearning  for  God's  presence, 
others  express  the  religious  desires  of  corporate 
Israel,  a  fellowship  of  saints  with  a  common  thirst 
for  the  springs  of  its  life. 

A  special  term  had  been  coined  for  Israel  in  her 
religious  rather  than  her  national  function— MAa^, 
■which  was  rendered  in  the  LXX  by  iKKKriaia 
('church').  It  signihed  the  religious  assembly  of 
God's  chosen  people  ;  but  as  tliis  could  never  be 
completely  realized,  even  in  the  great  temple 
gatherings,  the  conception  remained  largely  ideal. 
A  rich  spiritual  legacy  was  transmitted  from  the 
OT  in  the  words  Israel,  ecdesia,  Kingdom  of  God  ; 
and  though  the  Jewish  heirs  were  unable  to  ap- 
preciate their  inlieritance,  these  two  truths  of  the 
prophets  and  psalmists  could  never  have  quite 
perished — that  there  is  an  eternal  commonwealth 
of  saints,  and  that  this  fellowship  of  Israel  is 
based  upon  fellowship  with  Jehovah. 

ii.  The  Synoptic  Gospels.  — Jesus  not  only 
claimed  to  fulfil  prophecy  ;  by  His  words  of  grace 
He  did  much  more  than  the  most  spiritually 
minded  Israelite  could  have  hoped.  The  spirit  of 
the  Lord  which  was  upon  Him  awoke  prophetic 
thoughts  that  had  long  lain  in  the  hearts  of  those 
who  were  waiting  for  the  consolation  of  Israel. 
He  brought  spring  and  quickened  the  seed  sown 
in  the  past.  He  calls  men  to  Himself  and  forms 
them  into  a  new  society,  within  which  are  to  be 
enjoyed  the  blessings  foretold  by  the  prophets.  In 
this  company  is  found  religious  fellowship,  based 
upon  forgiveness  of  sins  and  eternal  life  through 
the  knowledge  of  God  revealed  by  Jesus  as  Father, 
of  which  the  OT  saints  had  but  partial  enjoyment 
or  glad  anticipation.  He  places  Himself  at  the 
head  of  this  society,  claiming  that  He  alone  can 
impart  the  knowledge  of  (iod  which  will  give  rest 
to  the  souls  of  men  (Mt  1 1"-^")-  Thus  His  followers, 
constituted  into  the  society  of  the  Messiah,  become 
a  Divinely  ordered  fellowship  not  dependent  on 
outward  organization,  but  united  by  a  common 
faith  in  Jesus  as  the  Revealer  of  Ciod  to  them. 
They  are  the  New  Israel,  the  imperishable  ecdesia 

(Mt  le'"-!"). 

This  society  is  no  closed  circle.  Associating 
Himself  more  or  less  intimately  with  groups  of 
disciples,  Jesus  sends  them  fortii  with  the  know- 
ledge they  have  gained  concerning  Him,  to  pro- 
claim to  the  people  that  the  new  epoch  of  Divine 
rule  is  about  to  be  inaugurated,  and  that  they 
should  prepare  for  its  advent.  The  condition  of 
meiiibeisliip  in  tliis  brotherhood  is  to  follow  Jesus, 
even  tli<piii;li  this  may  seem  to  the  man  of  the 
world  to  III-  nothing  less  than  to  lose  one's  life. 
Fellowshiji  with  Jesus  costs  much.  Family  ties 
may  be  severed,  the  hatred  of  the  world  may  be 
vented  upon  His  disciples,  billows  of  persecution 
may  sweep  over  them,  but  in  this  society  is  life 
indeed  (Mk  S'^-^^,  Lk  14=5-35^  jg^^ug  o^ers  His 
followers  a  fellowship  in  this  new  brotherhood, 
which  more  than  compensates  for  any  worldly 
friendship  that  they  may  have  to  renounce  (Mk 
1026-31)  Their  true  kindred,  even  like  that  of 
Je-sus  Himself,  will  be  found  among  those  united 
by  spiritual  affinities  in  this  new  circle.  New- 
virtues  abound  in  this  brotherhood.  Love  working 
in  helpful  ministries  for  otliers  is  of  the  essence 
of  fellowship  in  Messiah's  company.  Rank  is 
assigned,  not  as  in  worldly  kingdoms,  but  by  the 
degree  of  service  rendered   by  each   to  all  (Mk 

1035-45). 

In  time  Jesus  announces  to  His  followers  that 
His  society,  as  the  true  Israel,  is  to  take  the  place 
of  the  Jewish  nation,  which  as  such  is  becoming  a 
massa  perclita.     Out  of  this  perishing  world  His 


FELLO^ySHIP 


FELLOWSHIP 


disciples  are  saved  into  tlie  eternal  Kingdom,  and 
as  heirs  of  salvation  they  are  in  reality,  as  they 
were  afterwards  called,  '  the  saints  of  the  New 
Covenant'  (Mk  12'"'-).  Before  His  death  the 
Messiah  gave  concreteness  to  this  fellowship  by  a 
solemn  communion  with  His  disciples  in  the  Last 
Supper,  which  became  the  means  of  makini;  real 
to  them  the  blessings  of  the  New  Covenant.  Tlie 
connexion  of  the  Supper  with  the  Paschal  meal, 
which  may  liere  be  assumed  as  having  existed, 
either  by  anticipation  or  directly,  would  sugi'est 
to  the  minds  of  the  participants  that  in  this  New 
Covenant  they  were  entering  into  fellowship  with 
Jehovah,  and  that  they  were  also  binding  them- 
selves together  as  brothers  in  a  new  covenant  with 
God  (Mk  W^--^).  A  promise  of  enlarging  fellow- 
ship fitly  closes  the  Gospel  of  Matthew  in  the 
words,  '  Lo,  I  am  with  you  to  the  end  of  the  ages ' 
(28^),  and  gives  us  a  glimpse  of  the  transition 
from  the  earthly  to  the  heavenly  life  of  Jesus. 

To  sum  up,  the  Sj'uoptic  Gospels  show  us  the 
conception  of  an  eternal  Divine  Commonwealth, 
made  actual  by  Jesus  in  a  society  welded  together 
by  fervent  loyalty  to  Himself  as  the  Christ  of  God, 
and  pervaded  by  a  life  of  mutual  service  to  tlie 
members.  He '  brings  His  followers  into  true 
fellowsliip  with  Jehovah  by  revealing  Him  and 
pardoning  their  sins.  They  enjoy  the  life  of  a 
brotherhood,  which  is  true  life,  in  His  company. 

iii.  The  Primitive  Jewish-Christi.\n  Church. 
— Fellowship  is  the  most  real  definition  of  the 
unity  Avliich  was  a  constituent  quality  of  the 
Early  Church.  Intercourse,  intimate  and  uni- 
versal, among  brethren,  whose  life  was  consecrated 
by  a  gracious  Divine  presence,  and  thus  free  from 
everything  secular,  constituted  the  Church  as  dis- 
tinctively one.  This  unity  was  not  expressed  by 
any  rigid  cohesive  organization,  not  even  primarily 
by  the  leadership  of  the  Apostles.  Indeed,  the 
disciples  had  been  warned  by  their  Lord  not  to 
allow  themselves  to  be  called  ':Master'(Mt  SS'"). 
A  company  of  baptized  brethren,  they  had  received 
the  Holy  Spirit  from  their  risen  Lord,  who  had 
welded  them  into  one.  His  personal  gifts  were 
manifest  in  each  brother  passionately  devoted  to 
his  unseen  Lord,  and  so  on  terms  of  friendship 
with  all  who  loved  Him. 

The  Church  appears  on  the  stage  of  the  public 
world  as  a  new  sect,  holding  to  the  belief  that 
Jesus  is  Messiah.  Outwardly  the  brethren  were 
probably  indistinguishable  from  good  Jew^s,  and 
such  organization  as  thej'  had  would  follow  the 
lines  of  their  former  life.  But  it  would  seem  that 
they  did  not  think  of  themselves  as  a  new  or- 
ganization. They  were  slow  to  cast  loose  their 
hawsers  and  swing  out  into  the  stream  as  an  inde- 
pendent Churcli.  Led  by  powerful  personalities, 
Peter,  John,  and  James,  who  had  been  either 
intimate  or  of  close  kinship  with  Jesus,  they  re- 
garded themselves  as  the  true  Israel,  and  for 

'■  *?efc 

:c,  for 


VPT.  there 


St 

we  find  that  1 1 
organized  into  .li-tiiirtivr  iinuiiiiiini  !.■-.  nut  as 
'synagogues,'  Imt  .-in  ■  ihuicln-^'  ii^al.  1  ^  I5ufc 
in  these  churclie^  llie  utmost  fretduiii  ot  ihe  indi- 
vidual, which  is  essential  for  true  fellowship, 
prevailed  ;  for  the  Church  grew  not  by  oHicial 
initiative,  but  by  the  prophetic  power  of  Ihe  Holy 
Spirit  impelling  the  brethren  to  spread  far  and 
wide  the  good  news  of  tlieir  gospel. 

Little  as  the  primitive  Christians  differed  out- 
wardly from  the  Jewish  world,  their  inner  world 
was  a  new  creation.  It  was  a  hrotherliood  of 
Divine  origin  ;  for  not  only  were  they  baptized 
into  the  name  of  Jesus  the  Lord  nf  life,  but  they 
hail  received  the  Holy  Spirit.  How  sacred  this 
fellowsliip  was  is  manifest  from  the  terrible  punish- 


ment meted  out  to  Ananias  and  Sapphira  for 
violating  the  mutual  trust  that  made  the  brother- 
hood possible  (Ac  5). 

There  were  various  manifestations  of  this  fellow- 
ship, (a)  It  was  a  house-church.  Brethren  met 
as  sons  round  the  cummon  board  in  the  homes  of 
those  who  coulil  hfst  provide  accommodation,  and 
partook  of  a  daily  meal  consecrated  to  the  memory 
of  their  unseen  but  present  Lord.  They  held 
communion  with  one  another  because  they  held 
communion  with  the  risen  Jesus.  Common  prayers, 
songs,  and  thanksgivings  rose  to  Jehovah  from 
these  family  groups  (Ac  2'^  4^-^'-). 

[li]  This  fellowship  {Koivoivla)  found  further  ex- 
pression in  a  life  of  mutual  service, — the  rich  for 
the  poor,  tlie  strong  for  the  weak.  They  rejoiced 
with  those  who  rejoiced ;  they  wept  with  tiiose 
who  wept.  In  fact,  true  KOLvwvia  could  not  be 
better  delined  than  in  the  words  of  the  Golden 
Rule — '  Whatsoever  ye  would  that  men  should  do 
to  you,  do  ye  even  so  to  them '  (Mt  7'-).  No  formal 
ordinance,  such  as  the  community  of  goods,  was 
enjoined  on  the  brethren ;  their  love  welled  forth 
in  such  a  pure  and  powerful  stream  that  it  made 
its  own  channels.  All  blessings,  earthly  and 
spiritual,  were  spontaneously  shared  with  those 
who  were  in  need  (Ac  i-**-^'  4^--'^''). 

So  we  have  in  the  earliest  days  a  true  fellowship, 
a  brotherhood  united  by  love  to  a  risen  Lortl, 
whom  many  of  them  had  known  on  earth,  and  led 
without  rivalry  by  favourite  disciples  of  Jesus, 
enjoying  gifts  and  graces  from  the  ever  present 
Spirit  of  their  Lord.  But  that  brotherhood 
gathered  in  the  earthly  Zion  was  nationalistic  in 
sentiment.  It  was  provincial  in  spirit,  especially, 
it  would  seem,  throughout  Jud;ea,  where  the 
churches  were  in  villages  remote  from  the  world  of 
men. 

iv.  The  Gentile  Churches  of  the  Pauline 
WORLD.  —  With  the  rise  of  Antioch  a  peril 
threatened  the  prestige  of  Jerusalem.  Could  the 
fruit  of  the  Spirit  thrive  equally  well  in  the  valleys 
and  on  the  plains  of  Syria  and  Asia  as  on  the 
isolated  plateau  of  Judoea?  If  so,  it  was  bound  to 
be  very  much  more  abundant.  Fortunately,  Paul 
the  Apostle  to  the  Gentiles  was  a  man  of  varied 
culture.  While  his  world  was  in  cities  and  he 
thought  imperially,  he  never  treated  the  Jewish 
mind  lightly,  and  he  knew  wh.it  that  mind  wa.s. 
He  understood  its  worth  and  its  rights.  He  could 
discern  every  wave  of  feeling,  every  gust  that 
shivered  duskily  across  it.  So  St.  Paul  was  him- 
self the  greatest  power  of  his  day  making  for  the 
unity  of  the  Church.  It  was  a  passion  with  him 
to  avert  a  breach  which  would  be  fatal ;  and  he 
was  successful,  for  the  other  Apostles  responded 
nobly  as  brethren,  and  gave  him  the  right  hand  of 
fellowship  (Gal  2--  ").  But  the  sections  thus  united 
had  to  be  cemented ;  so  he  devotes  much  energy 
to  efl'ecting  a  durable  Koivwvia  bj'  organizing  the 
collection  for  the  poor  saints  at  Jerusalem.  In 
2  Co  8^  9'^  and  Ro  15="  the  word  koivuvLo.  is  trans- 
lated (RV)  '  contribution ' ;  but '  there  is  always  at 
the  root  of  Koivafia,  in  the  NT,  the  idea  of  Chris- 
tian communion  in  <me  form  or  another.  Those 
who  bestow  make  common  cause  with  one  another 
and  with  the  recipients' (Waite).  The  collection 
is  a  religious  act,  because  it  is  a  mark  of  Christian 
fellowship.  Indeed,  the  Macedonians  regard  it  as 
a  signal  token  of  Divine  favour  to  be  allowed  thus 
to  help  those  from  whom  they  had  received  the 
gospel  ;  and  the  jioor  Jewish  Christians,  who  had 
made  experience  of  the  liberal  Christian  kindliness 
of  the  Gentiles,  could  hardly  refuse  to  call  them 
brethren  (2  Co  8'"*  ^^-'^*). 

The  Christian  fellowship  was  M-orld-wide.  This 
brotherhood  was  one  everywhere  (1  P  5"),  and  in 
writing  to  the  Corinthians  St.  Paul  assumes  that 


FELLOWSHIP 


FELLOWSHIP 


389 


■what  he  says  will  be  of  interest  not  only  to  them, 
but  '  to  all  that  in  every  place  call  upon  the  name 
of  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord,  both  theirs  and  ours ' 
(1  Co  V).  The  Church  of  God  whicli  is  in  Corinth 
is  a  visible  but  partial  manifestation  of  the  larger 
whole.  This  idea  persisted  afti-ithr  .\]i(ist(ilir  age  ; 
for  '  Brotherhood  aiternsitesi  willi  l-:<r/,  .^in  in  the 
oldest  sets  of  ecclesiastical  cmn'iin,  wliili'  umnis 
fraternitas  and  iraaa  -q  dSeX^ir?;!  are  used  to  de- 
note the  whole  of  Christendom '  (Lindsay).  This 
world-wide  brotherhood  was  not  held  together  by 
any  outward  organization,  though  the  Apostle  Paul 
does  group  his  churches  by  provinces.  But  organ- 
ization is  local :  it  does  not  follow  the  lines  of 
provincial  units.  Of  course.  Christian  life  had  to 
be  expressed  in  outward  fellowsliip  wherever  it 
was  possible,  so  that  all  the  brethren  within  a  con- 
venient radius,  such  as  a  city,  would  be  grouped 
together  to  form  the  Church  of  God  in  tliat  place. 
And  the  Spirit  of  God  supplied  these  local  churches 
with  leaders  who  had  the  necessary  gifts  for  the 
conduct  of  their  life.  This  became  the  basis  of  a 
permanent  ministry. 

From  the  world  they  became  outwardly  separate, 
'  saints '  chosen  out  of  it  and  consecrated  to  God 
(Ro  1',  1  Co  1-,  Gal  l-"),  and  so  forming  one  family, 
'  the  household '  of  faith  {Gal  G^",  Eph  2"),  through- 
out the  empire  of  this  world.  Hence  great  stress 
is  laid  upon  the  grace  of  hospitality  (He  13'-  -).  In 
that  busy  world  with  its  thronged  highways,  the 
Christian  was  alwa3's  suie  of  a  warm  welcome 
wherever  there  was  a  church  or  a  group  of  brethren 
{see  per  contra  SJn"'-)!  and  the  sufferings  of  the 
saints  were  made  the  occasion  of  active  sympathy 
(He  61"  10^2-^  13').  St.  Paul  experienced  many 
such  marked  tokens  of  fellowship,  especially  at  the 
hands  of  the  Philippians,  for  whom  he  cherished 
the  deepest  afi'ection.  They  were  unremittingly 
active  in  co-operation  with  him  for  the  spread  of 
the  gospel ;  and  whatever  his  needs,  bodily  or 
spiritual,  might  be,  they  were  ready  to  do  their 
best  by  gifts  or  sympathy  to  supply  the  lack. 
This  was  true  fellowship  (Ph  P-  '  2'»  4'^-  '■').  Phile- 
mon also  was  a  real  Christian,  whose  faith  in, 
and  love  to,  the  Lord  Jesus  was  manifested  in  his 
kindly  offices  towards  all  the  saints ;  and  the 
Apostle  delicately  suggests  that  he  should  not  stop 
till  his  benevolence  becomes  complete  and  embraces 
even  the  slave  Onesimus  (Philem"-  ''•  "). 

This  religious  idea  of  brotherhood  issues  in  a  new 
grace,  'love  of  the  brethren'  (0iXaSeA0(a),  which  is 
to  be  cherished  as  an  especial  sign  of  Divine  life 
(1  Th  49,  Ro  121",  He  13^,  1  P  1==).  A  fine  word, 
airXdrris  ('  singleness '),  is  used  by  St.  Paul  to  denote 
the  quality  of  the  man  in  whom  fellowship  {KOivoivla) 
is  a  ruling  motive.  He  is  oTrXoCs,  'single-minded,' 
'liberal.'  He  does  not  serve  God  and  RLammon. 
His  eye  is  single.  Looking  only  at  the  needs  of 
his  brother,  he  realizes  the  truth  of  tlie  Lord's 
words  that  it  is  more  blessed  to  give  than  to 
receive  (Ac  20^^).  Among  the  brethren  there  is  no 
almsgiving.  All  that  is  sordid  in  almsgiving  is 
removed,  and  generosity  becomes  a  choice  token 
of  fellow.ship  (2 Co  S'-'g"-!^).  'When  men  thank- 
fully receive  God's  gifts,  and  in  imitation  of  His 
bounty  use  them  for  the  good  of  others,  so  that 
the  recipients  also  thank  God  for  the  benefaction, 
it  is  as  far  as  it  goes  the  re-establisliment  of  the 
right  relation  between  God  and  men,  and  men  and 
men.'  The  slave  is  not  only  made  partaker  of  such 
bounty,  but  as  he  posscss.'s  this  >i.ivit  he  pays  an 
ungrudging  service  to  lii-  m.i-i.  1  1  lli.li  ti'*). 

The  fellowship  of  chiiicli  with  .  Iniiili  was  further 
increased  by  the  visits  of  Aimsllr,  and  teachers,  as 
well  as  by  the  intcrclian^^e  of  correspondence. 
What  was  of  interest  to  one  was  of  interest  to  all 
in  so  far  as  it  touched  their  common  gospel.  While 
we  do  not  find  any  uniform  creed  or  liturgy  in 


these  Epistles,  there  was  almost  certainly  a 
stantially  similar  form  of  worship,  and  in   t 


sub- 
their 
prayers  and  hymns  the  brethren  gave  utterance  to 
the  same  faith  in  Jesus  Christ,  and  in  their  teach- 
ing they  adhered  to  the  common  truths  which  the 
Apostles  taught  (Ro  6",  Gal  P).  We  cannot  fail 
to  be  impressed  hy  the  combination  of  a  sense  of 
unity  with  great  mdividual  freedom.  The  Spirit 
took  the  life  of  believer  or  church,  and  produced 
in  it  some  distinctive  grace  or  function,  which 
brought  diversity  without  disharmony,  enrichment 
without  lack  of  proportion.  Manifold,  however, 
as  these  gifts  were,  the  greatest  of  all  and  that 
which  lay  at  the  root  of  their  fellowship  was  love  ; 
for  not  only  was  it  the  best  because  the  commonest, 
but  it  tempered  and  restrained  the  more  individ- 
ualistic endowments,  which  might  easily  destroy 
the  harmony  of  the  Christian  company  (1  Co  12" 
13).  True  fellowship  demands  variety  in  unity, 
individual  freedom  working  at  the  impulse  of  a 
common  spirit. 

The  noblest  exposition  of  Christian  fellowship, 
outside  the  Gospel  of  John,  is  contained  in  the 
Epistle  to  the  Ephesians.  In  that  prose  poem  in 
praise  of  unity,  the  Church  is  described  as  one 
body  of  which  each  Christian  is,  or  should  be,  a 
perfect  member.  A  Divine  creation  purposed  from 
all  eternity  by  the  Father's  love,  it  was  made  actual 
in  history  through  Jesus  Christ.  The  Church  is 
one  because  of  the  unities  on  which  it  is  based. 
Its  members  are  baptized  into  the  name  of  the  one 
Lord  whom  they  confoss.  They  are  insijired  by 
the  same  Siiirit.  -.uul  thrre  is  one  God  and  Father 
of  all,  who  is  alH.v,.  all  and  through  all  and  in  all 
(Eph  4''-«).  llislorieally  the  Church  became  one 
when,  in  Christ,  Jew  and  Gentile  were  both  recon- 
ciled unto  God  in  one  body  by  the  cross  (2"-'*) ; 
and  in  the  ages  to  come  each  individual  with  variety 
of  function  will  reach  his  perfection  in  this  per- 
fect organism,  and  contribute  to  the  completeness 
of  the  whole  (4'"'").  A  fellowship  so  sublime  in  its 
ideal  must  be  undisturbed  by  selfish  desires.  Only 
where  love,  patience,  long-suffering  and  humility 
reign  will  there  be  on  earth  '  a  communion  of  the 
saints.'  '  In  the  Apostle's  eyes  all  true  life  in  an 
Ecclesia  is  a  life  of  community,  of  the  harmonious 
and  nmtually  helpful  action  of  different  elements, 
so  that  he  is  giving  instruction  on  the  very  essence 
of  membership  when  in  each  of  the  nine  Epistles 
addressed  to  Ecclesias  he  makes  the  peace  of  God 
to  be  the  supreme  standard  for  them  to  aim  at, 
and  the  perpetual  self-surrender  of  love  the  com- 
prehensive means  of  attaining  it'  (Hort,  Christ. 
Ecclesia,  123). 

All  the  manifestation  of  fellowship  among  the 
brethren,  the  very  brotherhood  itself,  is  possible 
only  because  the  individual  members  of  the  com- 
munion of  the  saints  are  in  personal  fellowship 
with  Jesus  Christ.  He  indeed  is  the  fountain  and 
source  of  communion.  All  human  fellowship  is 
derivative.  The  word  Koivoii/ia  is  used  by  St.  Paul 
only  in  1  Co  10'"  to  express  this  personal  fellowship 
with  Christ,  the  thought  being  that  in  the  Lord's 
Supper  believers  are  united  in  close  communion, 
because  through  the  cup  and  the  bread  they  are 
enabled  to  participate  in  the  life  of  Christ  Himself. 
But  the  idea  is  central  in  St.  rani's  religion — 'I 
no  longer  live,  but  ("liiiM  U\.ll,  in  me' (Gal  2™); 
'For  me  to  live  is  ( '111  i-t  '  il'h  1  ').  However,  this 
fellowsliip  of  the  in(li\  idual  is  no  selfish  enjoyment. 
Only  those  who  are  '  rooted  and  grounded  in  love ' 
are  '  able  to  comprehend  with  all  saints  what 
is  the  breadth  and  length  and  depth  and  height ; 
and  to  know  the  love  of  Christ  which  passeth 
knowledge,'  that  they  may  be  filled  with  all  the 
fulness  of  God  (Eph  3"-'").  Now  the  Apostle 
expects  that  even  in  his  own  imperfect  churches 
there  should  be  some  real  enjoyment  of  this  fellow- 


590 


FELLOWSHIP 


FEYER 


ship  witli  Christ.  He  reminds  the  Chuieh  of 
Corinth  that  they  '  were  called  into  the  fellowship 
of  his  Son  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord  '  (1  Co  P),  i.e.  the 
fellowship  of  which  He  is  the  soul.  Fractured 
though  the  Church  is  bj-  schism  and  marred  bj- 
impurity,  it  is  a  society  of  redeemed  sons,  whose 
destiny  is  to  be  conformed  to  the  image  of  Him 
who  is  the  firstborn  among  many  brethren  (Ko 
S^- '"),  and  even  now  it  must  reflect  with  real  truth 
some  of  the  glory  of  that  future  fellowship.  The 
same  conception  is  conveyed  in  2  Co  13"  in  the 
words,  '  the  communion  of  the  Holy  Ghost '  ;  for 
the  Spirit  who  unifies  the  Christian  society  into  a 
body  of  redeemed  men  who  have  experienced  the 
unmerited  favour  of  Christ  and  the  love  of  the 
Father,  is  the  Spirit  of  Christ  (2  Co  3"- '«).  The 
Philippian  Church  also,  pervaded  by  love  and 
comforted  by  reciprocal  compassion,  has  enjoyed 
fellowship  because  of  the  presence  of  this  Spirit 
who  brings  the  consolation  of  Christ  Himself 
(Ph  2'). 

V.  The  Johaxnine  writings.— Assuming  that 
the  books  which  bear  the  name  of  John  came  from 
the  Apostle,  we  may  consider  them  together,  for 
tliey  bring  before  us  the  conditions  of  a  later 
period.  The  Gospel  and  the  Epistles  at  lea.st 
are  the  mature  work  of  one  who  seeks  to  set 
before  his  readers  the  mind  of  Christ,  after  t'.e 
attempt  had  been  made  for  half  a  centuiy  to  work 
His  teaching  into  actual  life.  Much  must  be  taken 
for  granted.  The  visible  Chui'ch  is  one ;  the  old 
problem  of  Jewish  and  Gentile  sections  is  a  dead 
issue.  Now  the  Church  is  face  to  face  with  the 
world.  Two  spiritual  forces  are  opposed  —  the 
realm  of  light  over  which  the  Son  of  God  rules, 
and  the  world  of  darkness  organized  and  directed 
by  the  Prince  of  Evil.  Error  concerning  the  Person 
of  Christ,  and  lack  of  love  of  the  brethren,  are 
disinteOTating  the  Christian  society.  So  the  author 
takes  his  readers  to  the  fountain  of  Christian 
fellowship,  and  allows  them  to  taste  its  quality 
as  it  was  enjoyed  by  the  disciples  of  Jesus,  whoi'u 
having  loved  He  loved  unto  the  end  (Jn  13-17). 
These  discourses  illuminate  the  Lord's  Supper,  and 
the  feet- washing  serves  as  a  noble  approach  to  it. 
There  are  two  prominent  aspects  of  the  Eucharist 
as  interpreted  by  John  :  {a)  tliat  it  is  a  feast  for  the 
spiritual  nurture  of  the  faithful  (6'^-^) ;  {b)  that  it 
sets  forth  the  love  of  the  Lord,  and  so  becomes  a 
love-feast  of  brethren.  Love  is  the  note  of  the 
conversations.  Only  through  the  clear  atmosphere 
of  love  can  they  see  their  absent  Master.  If  they 
obey  Him  and  love  one  another,  He  will  come  to 
them  bringing  the  peace  and  tlie  joy  which  He 
alone  can  impart  (14'-'- ^-"j.  So  wUl  there  be,  as 
Loisy  says,  'a  hierarchy  of  love,'  the  disciples 
loving  one  another  with  the  new  love  which  springs 
from  their  Master,  and  their  Master  loving  them 
as  the  Father  loves  Him  (13^  11^).  These  chapters 
teach  respecting  Christian  fellowship  that(i.)  its 
source  is  God  as  revealed  in  Jesus  Christ,  (ii.)  its 
agent  is  the  Holy  Spirit,  (iii. )  its  condition  in  the 
believer  is  faith  in  and  obedience  to  Jesus  Christ, 
and  (iv.)  its  fruit  is  a  life  of  love,  joy,  and  peace 
among  brethren  here,  and  perfect  sonship  here- 
after. 

Similar  conceptions  dominate  the  First  Epistle 
of  John.  Fellowship  with  God  is  the  goal  of  the 
Christian  life  (1  Jn  !'■■').  Such  fellowship  comes 
through  knowledge,  which  is  only  another  aspect 
of  the  love  of  God  (4"- ').  But  sin  is  a  barrier  to 
this  fellowship,  which  would  therefore  be  impos- 
sible Avere  it  not  that  it  has  been  removed  by  tlie 
propitiatory  sacrifice  of  Christ  (2'- ').  No  s'in  is 
greater  than  hate  ;  and  since  all  love  comes  from 
God  (4'"),  he  wlio  hatos  liis  brother  cannot  love 
God.  If  he  love  God,  that  love  must  first  have 
come   from   God,   and   stream   forth   tlirougli   the 


heart  of  the  believer  upon  his  brother.  To  live  in 
loving  fellowship  with  the  brethren  is  at  once  the 
proof  of  fellowship  with  the  Father  and  the  ethical 
condition  for  receiving  it,  for  only  to  hearts 
broadened  and  deepened  by  love  can  God  reveal 
Himself  and  bring  fellowship  (4'--  "•  -"•  -'). 

This  mystic,  whose  spirit  was  more  responsive 
than  any  other  to  the  mind  of  the  Master,  opens 
up  the  profound  depth  of  that  fellowship  which  the 
early  Christian  Church  enjoyed,  as  we  have  seen, 
in  no  inconsiderable  measure.  Since  Christ  is  the 
soul  of  Christian  fellowship,  it  is  impaired  by  lack 
of  truth  concerning  Him.  But  truth  and  love  are 
inseparable.  Therefore  when  we  seek  for  the  true 
unity  of  the  Church  of  Christ,  we  must  begin  by 
keeping  our  Lord's  great  command  to  love  the 
brethren,  and  thereby  advance  with  all  saints  to 
a  true  knowledge  of  Christ. 

Looking  back  through  the  dim  distance  we  dis- 
cover the  foreshadowings  of  prophet  and  psalmist 
growing  clearer,  till  in  these  latest  lx>oks  of  the 
NT  we  can  almost  touch  the  reality  on  earth  in 
this  ideal  of  the  Apostle  whom  Jesus  loved.  The 
supreme  poetic  description  of  that  fellowship  is 
the  city  of  the  King  of  Love  in  Revelation,  whose 
citizens  see  the  face  of  the  Lord  (Rev  22'-'),  the 
beatific  vision  for  which  the  psalmists  strained 
their  eyes. 

The  Christian  fellowship  as  it  existed  on  earth 
in  the  1st  century  was  a  stupendous  creation. 
Philosophers  had  dreamed  of  Utopias.  Humane 
Stoics  had  taught  the  brotherhood  of  man.  But 
all  attempts  to  realize  these  ideals  had  been  com- 
paratively ineffective.  In  the  Christian  Church, 
however,  aliens  and  the  disfranchised  found  fellow- 
ship with  those  who  inherited  religious  promises 
and  social  privilege.  Roman  and  Greek  stooped 
to  love  the  hateful  Jew,  and  the  Jew  was  willing 
to  transfer  the  sacred  name  of  Israel  to  Gentiles 
whose  past  was  unclean.  Well-bom  and  slave 
greeted  one  another  as  brethren,  without  thereby 
disturbing  social  order.  A  love  so  compelling  as 
to  reverse  the  national  and  social  values,  must 
have  been  derived  from  a  Presence  altogether 
transcending  the  measurements  of  ordinary  human 
life.  Christian  fellowship  is  not  to  be  defined  as 
intercourse  glowing  with  human  love  at  its  highest. 
It  is  primarily  a  spiritual  communion  with  the 
Supreme  Person,  whose  love  recreates  life  and 
makes  it  a  complete  expression  of  love.  So  the 
goal  must  be,  as  the  writer  to  the  Hebrews  says, 
in  the  world  to  come,  when  Jesus  shall  have  intro- 
duced His  many  brethren  into  the  Holy  of  Holies, 
where  they  will,  as  a  compary  of  the  redeemed, 
hold  fellowship  with  the  Father  (He  2=-  "•  "  7=* 
1222-24)      sge_  further,  art.  COMMUNION. 

Errlraia  ;  WeizsScker,  The 

inn  MuiiMry  in  the  Early 

'inn  Churchea;  art. 

,  Cnmmunicm.  with 

■ist,  Semi,  i.,  also 

i ..  i.-iv. ;  Harnack, 


R.  A.  Falconer. 


FETTERS.— See  Chain. 


FEYER  (6  irvperds,  and  in  Ac  28'  ol  wvperoi,  with 
corresponding  participle  in  Mt.  and  Mk.  Tvp4<r- 
ffovaa).  There  are  only  five  passages  in  the  NT 
in  Avhich  fever  is  spoken  of.  and  three  of  these, 
viz.  Mt  8"'-,  Mk  l""'-,  and  l.k  4^'-  are  parallel  pa.s- 
sages.  One  cannot  say  with  certainty  what  specific 
fever  is  alluded  to  in  these  passages,  or  in  Jn  4»=, 
where  the  healing  of  the  nobleman's  son  is  spoken 

of.      It  may   be,    in. 1 1,    lli.il    St.    Luke,   whose 

training  as  a  physici;ui  iiatni  ally  li'd  him  to  speak 
with  exactness  about  im  ,lir:il  m  1 1  ters,  does  specify 
the  fever  from  wliich  I'ctii  -  \\ifes  mother  was 
sutteriiig  {<rwexoiJi4fr)  rnpcrui  fxtydXif).      It  has  been 


I 


FIELD 


FIERCENESS 


591 


contended  that  there  was  a  specific  fever  known  as 
'  the  great  fever,'  and  that  it  was  this,  whatever 
it  may  have  been,  from  which  the  sick  woman  in 
Capernaum  suttered.  This,  however,  has  been 
questioned,  and  perhaps  it  is  rather  the  intensity 
of  the  fever  than  its  specific  character  that  is  indi- 
cated by  the  word  '  great.'  Probably  both  Peter's 
wife's  mother  and  the  nobleman's  son  sufl'ered  from 
malarial  fever.  Professor  G.  A.  Smith  tells  us 
that  the  region  about  Tiberias  is  a  very  feverish 
region,  and  Dr.  Cunningham  Geikie  says  that 
malarial  fever  was  common  at  Capernaum.  It  is 
very  likely  that  there  has  always  been  a  good  deal 
of  malarial  fever  about  the  shores  of  the  Sea  of 
Galilee,  and  especially  about  the  more  northerly 
portion  of  these  shores.  The  fever  from  whicli 
the  father  of  Publius  suffered  (Ac  28')  was  fever 
accompanying  or  accompanied  by  acute  dysentery. 
See  also  artt.  CUBES,  p.  403'',  and  Disease, 
p.  463''. 

Literature. — NT  Commentaries ;  artt.  *  Medicine '  in  Hast- 
ings' UB  and  '  Diseases,'  Eneyc.  Biblica ;  G.  A.  Smitli,  BGHL  i, 
p.  449  ;  Cunningliam  Geiliie,  Life  and  Words  of  Christ,  ii.  6  f. 

George  C.  Watt. 
FIELD.— 

Tile  tliree  Greek  words  (iy/jos,  x'^P'^t  Z'^P'ov)  rendered  'field' 
in  tiie  Gospels  are  distinguisilable  in  meaning,  and  sometimes 
require  more  specific  renderings.  otypU  in  general  means  'field ' 
in  tiie  sense  of  cultivated  land,  or  open  country  thought  of  as 
subject  to  cultivation:  e.ii.  'sowed  good  seed  in  his  field' (Mt 
132'),  'lilies  of  the ;if(ri,'  'grass  of  the  field'  (628-30),  etc.  j;<i^o! 
denotes  generally  a  region,  or  district  of  country,  as  'the  regie 

--      (Lk  31), 'the  country  of  (he  ( 


of  Trachonitis' 


:  distir 


■(Mk6i 


(ilt  26^^),  'the  parcel  of  aroNni  n-.  ,i.  ..i.      -,  r,  .i. ..,,,!,■,  i,, 

45),  etc.     But,  on  the  oilier  liiii..  I  i  u  .   I  V  >:  .,i  1 1,, 

country  in  distinction  from  1 1  i  I      

XMfietused  of  fields  of  ripen.-'l  -tun    :..  m  .li;  i      ■  l \,  ,,ii  li,. 

fields,  tor  they  are  white'  (i-f.  J;i  ^.'  uho  iuni.'  rfapfd  down 
vour  fields')  ;  and  where  St.  Mattliew  uses  i>.ct,-  of  '  tlie  field  of 
blood'  (2(8),  St.  Luke  uses  x"?'"  (Ac  119). 

A  knowledge  of  certain  peculiarities  of  the  fields 
of  Palestine  is  helpful  to  the  full  understanding  of 
several  of  the  parables  of  our  Lord  and  some  other 
passages  in  the  Gospels.  There  are  now,  as  there 
were  of  old,  numerous  fields  in  Palestine  ^\'here 
'  the  lilies '  and  many  other  flowers  grow  in  gor- 
geous profusion  without  human  care  or  culture, 
and  where  'the  grass  of  the  field,'  including  fibrous 
weeds  as  well  as  shortlived  flowers,  when  dried  by 
the  tropical  sun,  are  still  gathered  as  fuel,  and  used 
to  heat  ovens  for  baking  Ijread  (of.  Mt  6-*-  '■"').  The 
argument  of  the  Master,  drawn  from  '  the  grass  of 
the  fielil  which  to-day  is  and  to-morrow  is  cast  into 
the  oven,'  still  holds  good,  and  still  finds  abundant 
illustration.  It  is  true  occasionally  now,  also,  that 
after  the  owner  of  the  land  has  'sowed  good  seed 
in  his  field,'  an  enemy  will  in  sheer  spite  creep  in 
secretly  and  'sow  tares,'  the  noxious  darnel  (Lolium 
temulentum)  ;  but  see  Tares. 

In  Palestine,  as  in  all  unsettled  countries,  it 
was  common,  and  in  parts  of  the  land  it  is  still 
common,  to  resort  to  the  field  (the  cultivated  land 
or  the  open  country)  as  a  fit  place  in  which  to  hide 
treasure  (cf.  Mt  13")  In  ancient  times  the  land 
was  peculiarly  subject  to  revolutions,  expo.sed  to 
raids  from  wandering  tribes,  and,  in  some  districts, 
liable  to  plunder  from  robbers  at  home.  So,  in  the 
absence  of  safety  vaults  and  the  like,  owners  of 
treasure  who  feared  rolibery  or  tliievery  (Mt  25^), 
or  who  were  setting  off  on  a  journey  to  a  distant 
country,  would  bury  their  money,  jewellery,  etc., 
in  the  field.  Then,  if  the  owner  were  ki'lled  in 
battle,  or  died  in  a  far  country,  no  one  might  know 
where  his  treasures  were  hid ;  and,  according  to 
usage,  such  valuables  when  found,  if  no  owner 
appeared  to  claim  them,  belonged  to  tlie  owner  of 
the  land- -a,  tact  whicli  gives  point  to  the  parable 
of  the  II.. I  TicMiic  (Mt  13«,  cf.  Job  3=',  Pr2^). 
Many  |ii  i-i.n-  .ur  toniul  digging  for  hid  treasure 
in    Egypt    ami    I'.ilcstiiie   to-day,    and   not   a  few 


spend  their  last  farthing  in  the  efibrt(cf.  Thomson, 
LB  ii.  p.  640). 

In  the  parable  of  the  Sower  (Mt  IS-",  Mk  4-',  Lk 
8^),  where  the  AV  has  'some  (seeds)  fell  by  the 
wayside,'  the  picture  is  really  of  grains  of  wheat  or 
barley  which  fell  on  the  trodden  pathivay  leading 
across  the  field,  and  so  were  left  exposed  wliere 
the  birds  could  see  and  devour  them  (cf.  Lk  8= 
'trodden  under  foot').  It  is  still  common  in  Pale- 
stine to  see  flocks  of  birds  fc-'Jowing  the  peasant  as 
he  sows  his  seed,  eagerly  picking  up  every  grain 
that  is  not  covered  by  the  qtiick-following  harrow. 
And  where  it  is  said  '  some  fell  upon  stony  places ' 
(AV),  the  real  allusion  is  to  the  underlying  rock  of 
limestone.  The  traveller  finds  numberless  places 
where  a  broad,  flat,  limestone  rock  lies  just 
beneath  the  surface  of  the  field,  with  only  a  thin 
layer  of  earth  ujion  it  (cf.  Lk  8""  'the  rock'). 
'  Stony  ground  '  (AV,  following  early  English  ver- 
sions) suggests  a  soil  abounding  in  loose  stones, 
such  as  is  often  found  there  producing  good  wheat ; 
but  the  picture  is  rather  of  a  soil  into  which  the 
seeds  could  not  sink  deep,  and,  the  film  of  earth 
being  readily  heated  because  of  the  underlying 
rock,  they  would  come  up  sooner  than  elsewhere, 
and  at  first  would  look  imcommonly  flourishing  ; 
but,  not  being  able  to  send  roots  deep  into  the 
moist  earth  (cf.  Lk  8«),  when  the  hot,  dry  weather 
came  the  stalks  would  wither,  and  thus  show  that 
the  fair  promise  of  a  crop  there  had  been  deceptive 
(cf.  Ps  129'^  '  gi-ass  upon  the  house-tops '). 

In  the  fields  of  Palestine,  too,  tliere  are  still 
found  spots  that  are  rich,  but  are  peculiarly  in- 
fested with  briars  and  thorn-bushes,  where  one 
inay  see  the  wheat  in  scattered  and  spindling 
.stalks  struggling  for  life  (cf.  Mt  13').  In  Mk  2-» 
and  Lk  6'  (AV)  we  have  'corn-fields'  where  the  Gr. 
word  {(nr6pi./j.a)  is  the  same  as  in  Mt  12',  where  it  is 
rendered  simply  '  corn,' — '  through  the  corn  '  (after 
Tindale).  It  is  literally  '  through  tlie  soum  (places),' 
i.e.  the  grain-fields,  as  Noyes  and  Bib.  Un.  Vers, 
render  it,  fields  of  wheat  or  barley,  not  of  maize  or 
Indian  corn,  of  course.  The  picture  is  of  Jesus  and 
His  disciples  goinff  a/o,i,/,  citht-r  tliioiicl,  the  stand- 
ing grain,  or  by  afootpatli  which  IhhiikIciI  the  fields, 
the  grain  in  either  case  being  within  e.asy  icacli. 
It  was  customary  then,  as  it  is  now,  in  Palestine, 
for  the  lands  (.f  diHerent  owners  to  be  separated, 
not  liy  fen<cs  ci  walls,  but  usually  only  by  crude 
indi\  iilu.il  stones  set  up  at  intervals  on  the  surface 
of  tlie  gvuui;il  as  landmarks  (cf.  Dt  19'*) ;  and  the 
roads,  mere  footpaths  as  a  rule,  were  not  dis- 
tinct from  the  fields,  as  they  are  with  us,  but  ran 
through  them,  so  that  the  grain  grew  right  up  to 
the  edge  of  the  path.  "We  are  not  meant  to  think 
of  Jesus  and  His  disciples  as  going  ruthlessly 
through  the  fields  and  trampling  down  the  grain, 
but  as  following  one  of  these  paths  over  or  between 
the  fields.  But  neither  plucking  the  ears  of  wheat 
to  eat,  nor  even  walking  across  a  pathless  field, 
was,  according  to  Jewish  ideas  (cf.  Dt  23^),  a  vio- 
lation of  the  rights  of  inoiierty  any  more  than  it  is 
to-day  among  the  Arabs.  It  \\  as  not  of  this,  but  of 
Sabbath-breaking,  that  the  Pharisees  coniijlained. 
Geo.  B.  Eagee. 

FIERCENESS.— The  word  'fierce'  occurs  twice 
in  AV(Mt828of  the  two  deiiK.niacs  rynXfTroi'],  Lk 
23^  of  our  Lord's  accusers  [fTrij-yr.,!-  ];\'  'urgent']). 
But  the  purpose  of  the  jircsenl  .nticle  is  to 
examine  in  what  sense  and  to  what  extent  this 
attribute  may  be  attributed  to  Christ.  The  pojju- 
lar  concejition  of  Him  is  perhaps  too  much  that  of 
a  speaker  of  smooth  things.  It  is  forgotten  that 
He  could  utter  on  occasion  words  of  fierce  energy. 
The  beauty  of  the  unanswenng  innocence  of  the 
Passion,  that  type  of  silent  suffering  and  enduring, 
has  made  His  outbursts  of  fierce  reproach  or  con- 
demnation  fade   from   the  memory.     His   '  judge 


592 


FIG-TREE 


not '  (Mt  7'),  or  His  parable  of  patience  that  has  its 
part  iu  the  '  wlieat  and  tares '  being  allowed  to 
grow  together  (IS**),  or  His  doctrine  of  unlimited 
lorgi%'eness  (Lk  17'"^), — these  are  thought  to  be 
entirely  representative.  Yet,  while  they  undoubt- 
edly indicate  the  prevailing  elements,  something 
would  be  lost  in  our  understanding  of  Jesus  if  we 
overlooked  the  impassioned  fterceaess  with  which 
He  sometimes  acted  and  spoke. 

Of  recorded  deeds  the  incident  of  the  driving 
out  of  the  vendors  and  money-changers  from  the 
temple  precincts  (Mt  21'-,  JVIk  11^',  Jn  2'*)  is  the 
most  notable :  but  it  is  in  the  vigour  of  His 
language  that  the  possibilities  of  fierceness  in 
Him  are  most  revealed.  He  has  small  patience 
with  certain  failings,  such  as  the  lack  of  an 
apprehensive  faith,  or  worldliness,  or  hypocris}-, 
or  vanity.  Tliere  is  a  denunciatory  strain  in  Him 
much  resembling  the  force  of  the  Baptist's  'off- 
spring of  vipers'  of  Lk  3'.  It  is  present  in  the 
Nazareth  sermon  in  His  OT  illustrations  of 
prophets  not  honoured  in  their  own  co\intry  (Lk 
4) ;  in  His  declaration  of  war  with  evil,  —  '  I  am 
come  to  send  tire  on  the  earth'  (12^'),  and  'I 
came  not  to  send  peace  but  a  sword '  (Mt  10^^)  ; 
it  even  finds  expression  in  the  very  phrase 
yefwrmara  (x^dvQv  used  by  the  Baptist  (Mt  12^). 
None  of  the  mildness  of  diplomacy  is  in  the 
message  to  Herod — '  Go  ye,  and  tell  that  fox  '  (Lk 
13^-).  Wlien  He  encounters  men  or  communities 
incapable  of  the  heavenly  vision.  His  words  are 
swords.  To  trouble  about  them  is  to  '  throw 
pearls  before  swine'  (Mt  7").  They  are  a  'faith- 
less and  perverse  generation,'  or  'a  wicked  and 
adulterous  generation '  seeking  after  a  visible  and 
tangible  sign  of  spiritual  things  (16^);  they  shall 
lose  the  Kingdom  of  God  (21-") ;  the  heathen  of 
Nineveh  shall  show  themselves  better  judges  of 
eternal  realities  (Lk  11'-) ;  there  is  more  hope  for 
Tyre  and  Sidon  (10'^)  or  for  Sodom  and  Gomorrah 
than  for  the  spiritualljr  blind  (Mt  10'^)  ;  '  Ye  are 
of  your  father  the  devil '  ( Jn  8").  The  fierceness 
which  marks  His  rejection  of  the  third  temptation 
(Mt  4'")  is  paralleled  in  the  'Get  thee  behind  nie, 
Satan  '  with  which  Peter's  profl'ered  intervention  is 
repelled  (Mk  8^).  The  perverter  of  tlie  simplicity 
of  childhood  is  told  that  he  had  better  luave  beeii 
drowned  with  a  millstone  about  liis  neck  (Mt  18"). 
But  the  white  heat  of  fierceness  in  the  utterance 
of  Christ  comes  when  He  meets  with  Pharisees, 
scribes,  and  teachers  of  the  Law,  who  are  unworthy 
of  their  high  professions.  They  are  '  false  prophets 
.  .  .  ravening  wolves'  (Mt  7'');  'hypocrites'  is 
hurled  at  them  in  everj  phrase  of  Mt  23,  in  the 
close  of  Lk  11,  and  in  Mk  7^,  where  Isaiah's 
bitterest  words  against  lip  -  service  are  quoted 
against  them.  They  are  'whited  sepulchres,' 
'blind  guides,'  'sons  of  them  that  slew  the 
phets,'  'serpents.'  They  'say,  and  do  not,' 
that  '  the  publicans  and  the  harlots 
kingdom  '  before  them  (Mt  21^). 

Thus  to  His  Divine  tenderness  did  Jesus  add  a 
strange  fierceness,  as  tliough  to  teach  that  in 
faith's  war  with  darkness  lightning  has  its.  place. 
See  art.  Anger. 


pro- 
into  the 


FIG-TREE  (in  NT  cvktj,  in  OT  njxp  tfcmlh  ;  the 
Fitus  Carica,  L. ).— 1.  The  fig  is  the  principal  shade- 
and  fruit-tree  of  Palestine,  growing  in  all  li.u  t~.  in 
many  places  spontaneously.  It  selilom  uiii,,  - 
20  ft.  [Post,  in  Hastings'  'DB,  s.v.  '  1  i;j-  ,.,  -  i  , 
ft.]  in  height,  but  has  a  spread  of  from  i!.")  to  :;u  !i. 
Its  welcome  shade  and  refreshing  fruit  make  it  the 
emblem  of  peace  and  prosperitv  (Dt  8',  Jg  9'"- ", 
IK  4'=.  Mic  4^  Zee  3'»,  1  Mac  14;=).  Besides  this 
general  symbolism,  two  characteristics  of  the  tree, 


appealing  respectively  to  the  eye  and  to  the  palate, 
have  led  to  further  comparisons. 

(rt)  The  tig-tree  is  conspicuous  iu  early  spring  by 
the  expanding  of  the  tips  of  its  twigs  into  little 
green  knobs  called  d'js  paggiiii  (Gr.  bXvvBoi.,  Ca  2" 
KV  '  green  figs ')  which  are  the  flower-fruit  buds, 
and  together  with  the  leaf-bud,  which  expands 
shortly  after  and  soon  overshadows  the  pag,  or 
fruit  rudiment,  serve  as  the  herald  of  the  coming 
summer  (Mt  24^-  and  jj).  This  phenomenon  of  '  all 
the  trees'  (Lk  21-'")  is  particularly  noticeable  in 
the  tig-tree  because  of  its  early  and  conspicuous 
verdure.  The  ripening  of  the  paq  follows  the  '  ap- 
pearance of  the  flowers  on  the  earth,'  and  accom- 
panies the  '  blossoming  of  the  vine '  as  the  feature 
of  the  advancing  season  and  the  time  of  mating 
(Ca  2").  In  the  same  connexion  may  be  mentioned 
the  phenomenon  of  the  dropping  of  great  quantities 
of  the  immature  fruit  in  consequence  of  imperfect 
fertilization,  so  that  the  scattered  jjfig'jyi/rt  covering 
the  ground  under  the  tig-trees  become  to  the  author 
of  Bev  6"  a  symbol  of  the  stars  fallen  to  earth 
from  the  firmament,  '  as  a  tig-tree  casteth  her  un- 
ripe figs  when  she  is  shaken  of  a  great  wind. ' 

(b)  The  tig-tree  has  tivo  (not  three)  successive  crops 
of  fruit  eacli  year.  The  first-ripe  tig  (Heb.  n-H33  bOc- 
kurah.  Is  28^,  Jer  24-,  Hos  9'",  Mic  7')  is  produced 
upon  tlie  old  wood  of  the  preceding  year,  the  buds 
which  remained  undeveloped  through  the  winter 
swelling  into  the  little  green  paggim  already  de- 
scribudr  towards  the  end  of  the  season  of  spring 
rains  (March-April),  and  coming  to  maturity  in 
June.  The  n:x,7i  tc'enuh,  or  autunm  fig,  is  the  tig 
of  commerce,  and  is  produced  on  the  new  wood  of 
the  same  year.  The  leaf-bud,  which  expanded 
shortly  after  the  pag  and  soon  distanced  it  in 
growtli,  puts  out  in  its  turn  a  flower-fruit  bud 
which  matures  in  August,  or  later,  according  to 
the  variety,  the  fruit  hanging  on  the  boughs  until 
winter,  when  the  branches  are  again  left  naked, 
grey,  and  straggling. 

■fhis  phenomenon  of  successive  fruitage  in  the 
fig-tree  is  doubtless  the  source  of  the  description 
of  the  fruit-trees  of  the  New  Jerusalem  (Ezk  47'=, 
Rev  22=  'the  tree  of  life')  as  'bearing  fruit  every 
month.'  In  the  Talmud  it  is  a  symbol  for  the 
acquisition  of  learning,  which,  to  be  permanent, 
must  come  by  little  and  little  (Hamburger,  ME  i.  3, 
s.i'.  'Feige,'  p.  360  with  references).  Hence  the 
saying,  '  Whoso  sees  a  fig-tree  in  his  dreams,  his 
learning  shall  be  safe  from  forgetf ulness '  {Bern- 
khoth,  57).  The  capacity  of  the  tree  for  prolonga- 
tion of  its  bearing  season  leads  in  fact  to  certain 
representations  which  easily  pass  over  into  ex- 
aggerations and  misunderstandings  important  to 
avoid. 

Edersheim  (Life  and  Times,  bk.  iv.  cli.  xvi.  p. 
246)  refers  to  'a "species  (the  Bcnoth  Shuach)  men- 
tioned in  Skebh,  v.  1,  of  which  the  fruit  required 
three  years  for  ripening,'  but  which  may  more 
reasonably  be  understood  as  simply  a  late-bearing 
variety  whose  fruit  reached  maturity  only  in  ex- 
ceptionally favourable  seasons,  not  oftener  than 
once  in  tliree  years.  So  with  the  rhetorical  passage 
of  Josephus  (BJni.  x.  8)  celebrating  the  delightful 
climate  of  the  plain  of  Gennesaret.  His  statement 
that  '  it  supplies  the  principal  fruits,  as  grapes  and 
figs,  uninterruptedly  during  ten  months  of  the 
year,'  cannot  reasonably  be  made  to  prove  more 
than  the  fact  that  in  that  semi-tropical  depression, 
tiOO  ft.  below  sea-level,  fresh  fruit,  including  tigs, 
1  ould  be  obtained  almost  to  the  end  of  winter. 

To  explain  the  narrative  of  Mk  11'^  two  other 
facts  have  been  advanced  of  doubtful  value  and 
trust-worthiness.  It  is  asserted  that  neglected 
relics  of  the  autumn  crop  sometimes  cling  to  the 
branches  of  the  fig-tree  throughout  the  winter; 
but  Post  {^c  p.  6)  was  unable  during  a  residence 


fIG-TRE]2 


J'IG-TREE 


of  33  years  in  Syria  to  iind,  or  hear  of,  such.  The 
statement  of  Edersheim  {I.e.  V.  ii.  p.  374)  that 
such  left-over  fruit  about  April  1  '  would  of  course 
be  edible '  becomes  admissible  only  by  inserting 
a  'not'  after  'of  course.'  It  is  also  asserted  that 
the  pcig,  or  green  fruit,  was  eaten,  even  Benzinger 
{PBE^  s.y.  '  Fruchtbaume,'  p.  304)  declaring  that 
'Jesus  might  expect  to  iind  such  winter  tigs  (the 
paggini)  on  a  tree  already  in  leaf  at  the  season  of 
Passover,  that  is  before  the  time  of  the  ripening 
of  figs.'  In  the  sense  that  the  rudimentary  fruit- 
buds  would  be  discoverable  under  the  leaves,  upon 
examination  (unless  the  tree  had  become  sterile  by 
reversion  to  the  wild  type,  as  sometimes  occurs), 
this  statement  is  true  ;  the  present  writer  has  found 
such  dry  tasteless  'figs'  at  'Ain  Far  a  near  Jeru- 
salem, on  March  1,  the  size  of  an  olive,  though  the 
tree  was  leafless.  Boys  sometimes  nibble  these 
buds,  but  to  speak  of  the  paggim  at  tliis  season  as 
'  winter  figs '  is  misleading.  The  evidence  for  the 
edible  quality  of  the  pag,  drawn  by  Edersheim 
from  the  Talmud  (Bk.  v.  ii.  p.  375,  referring  to 
Shebh.  iv.  7  and  Jerus.  Shebh.  Sob,  last  lines)  sug- 
gests only  that  at  a  later  season  the  unripe  fruit 
was  sometimes  used  as  a  condiment  'with  bread.' 
This,  however,  was  after  the  paggim  '  began  to 
assume  a  red  colour,'  and  not  when  the  foliage 
had  only  just  begun  to  cover  the  setting  fruit-bud. 
Apart  from  the  question  whether  a  tree  could  be 
properly  rebuked  for  the  absence  of  a  quite  excep- 
tional product,  the  alleged  phenomena,  whether  of 
neglected  relics  of  the  autumn  harvest,  or  use  of  the 
unripe  fruit,  have  neither  of  tliem  any  real  bearing 
on  the  difficulty  that  Jesus  should  ai)proach  a  way- 
side fig-tree,  with  the  intention  of  staying  His 
hunger,  when,  as  so  frankly  stated  in  the  record 
itself,  '  it  was  not  the  season  of  tigs. ' 

2.  The  Gospel  references  to  the  fig-tree  include 
both  parables  and  incidents,  and  make  allusion  to 
phenomena  both  of  its  leafage  and  its  fruitage. 
As  questions  arise  to  how  great  an  extent  the  in- 
cidents may  not  be  symbolic,  parables  becoming 
concrete  in  process  of  repetition,  or  even  pure 
symbols,  it  is  best  to  consider  first  the  two  in- 
stances in  which  the  fig-tree  is  made  the  subject  of 
undoubted  parable  by  our  Lord. 

(a)  The  parable  nf  the  Fig-Tree  (Mk  IS^"*-  -^  =  Mt 
2432.33^  paraphrased  and  interpreted  Lk  2P''-^')  is 
based  on  the  early  verdure  of  the  tree.  Its  general 
sense  is  clear  from  Lk  12'«f-  ( =  Mt  16'^-  ^  /3  text),  a 
passage  which  leads  to  the  insertion  in  Lk  ■2l-->  of 
p^i-KovTe^  d(t>  iavrCv  (cf.  12").  The  meaning  is: 
As  you  judge  by  the  softening,  burgeoning  twigs 
of  the  fig-tree  that  the  harvest  season  is  approach- 
ing, so  read  the  signs  of  the  times.  Tiiese  (ravra  ; 
Mk  13=*  treats  the  preceding  context  as  if  only 
premonitions  of  the  Day  had  been  spoken  of,  over- 
looking vv.2^-"  ;  but  cf.  Lk  12"-53-  66  with  Mk  13'" 
"•  29  ;  ttAvto.  Tavra,  Mt  2i^  is  more  specific  but  less 
correct)  sighs  prove  that  the  judgment,  the  glean- 
ing of  God  (cf.  Mk  4=»,  not  '  the  kingdom  of  God,' 
Lk  2P')  is  close  at  hand.  As  regards  closer  exe- 
gesis and  criticism,  we  must  say,  with  E.  Schwartz 
('  Der  verfluchte  Feigenbaum  '  m  ZNTW  i.  p.  81) : 
'  Whoever  would  interpret  with  exactitucle  will 
meet  with  more  than  one  difficulty.'  Besides 
Schwartz,  the  reader  may  consult  Gould,  Swete, 
and  Wellhausen,  ad  Ice.  The  paraphrase  of  Lk.  is 
the  earliest  attempt  to  interpret,  but  smooths 
over  difficulties  (note,  e.g.,  the  additions  'and 
all  the  trees,'  'the  kingdom  of  God,'  and  other 
changes). 

(b)  The  parable  of  the  Barren  Fig-Tree  (Lk  13""") 
stands  in  the  same  eschatological  context  as  the 
warning  to  read  the  signs  of  the  times  (Lk  I2^=- 
IS"  paralleled  by  Mk  n^-^-  is-  is),  and  forms  its 
climax.  One  is  tempted  to  conjecture  that  tlie 
problematic  'parable'  referred  to  in  Mk  13-»,  Mt 

VOL.  I.— 38 


24^-  (ciTro  &i  TJjs  avKfji  /idflere  Tr]v  irapafiok-qv,  cf.  I\Ik7" 
as  against  Lk  21-^  /cat  elir^v  -napa^oKriv)  was  once  no 
other  than  this.  At  all  events  it  simply  applies, 
in  fuller  form,  the  figure  credited  in  Mt  3"'=Lk  3" 
to  the  Baptist. 

This  is  the  common  prophetic  doctrine  of  the 
Divine  avoxh,  the  present  a  time  of  suspension  of 
the  Divine  sentence  to  leave  opportunity  for  re- 
pentance. 

The  once  favourite  allegorizing  method  of  interpretation  (e.g. 
the  gardener  =  the  .Messiah,  the  three  years  =  thc  three  (?)  Pass- 
overs of  Christ's  public  ministry)ia  now  fortunately  discredited. 
Yet  it  is  incorrect,  with  Wellhausen  {Ev.  iMcce,  ad  loc.)  to  say 
that  the  fig-tree  stands  for  the  individual.  Not  merely  is  the 
girdled  fig-tree  an  OT  emblem  of  the  punishment  of  Israel  (Jl  17, 
cf.  Lk  2331),  but  the  parable  concludes  a  context  wherein  the  men 
of  Jerusalem,  overwhelmed  by  the  fall  of  the  tower  in  Siloam, 
and  the  GaUlseans,  cut  down  by  the  sword  of  Pilate,  are  brought 
forward  as  'signs  of  the  times.'  The  warning,  accordingly,  is 
certainly  against  'the  overthrow  of  the  Jewish  people '  (T.  K. 
Cheyne,  Encyc.  Bihl.  s.v.  'Fig-tree,'  col.  1521),  'Except  ye 
repent  ye  shall  all  likewise  perish '  is  not  spoken  of  the  fate  of 
individuals,  but  of  the  common  overthrow,  however  this  may 
be  avoided  by  individual  repentance  ;  cf.  Mt  1238-«=Lk  1129-32 

3.  The  cursing  of  the  fig-tree  (Mk  ll"-"-2o-25=Mt 
2118-22) — Parabolic  symbolism  is  so  slightly  con- 
cealed under  the  narrative  features  of  this  story 
that  the  majority  of  critics  are  disposed  to  regard 
it  as  a  mere  endowment  of  the  Lukan  parable  of 
the  Barren  Fig-tree  with  concrete  form,  just  as 
the  parable  of  the  Good  Samaritan,  and  others, 
were  long  treated  as  instances  of  historical  fact. 

In  favour  of  this  explanation  are  several  features 
of  the  narrative  and  its  setting. 

(a)  The  generally  admitted  incorporation  of  Mk. 
by  Lk.  implies  that  the  omission  of  Mk  lli"""-  ^"-''^ 
was  deliberate.  The  most  natural  explanation  of 
it  is  that  St.  Luke  regarded  the  story  as  a  double 
of  his  parable,  Lk  13''"'.  Conversely  the  parable 
does  not  appear  in  Mt.  or  Mark. 

(b)  The  withering  of  the  tree  (Mk  ll=»-=6),  a  sequel 
of  the  next  day  after  the  cursing  (U'^"'-'),  occupies 
a  ditl'erent  position  in  Mt  21'*''"",  taking  place  'on 
the  spot.'  In  both  Gospels  this  appended  sequel 
proves  itself  a  secondary  attachment,  both  by  its 
material  and  its  language.  The  contents  of  Mk 
1120-25  consist  in  the  main  of  two  logia,  torn  from 
their  proper  context  (cf.  Mt  17=°,  Lk  17^  and  Mt 
6"-  '6)  and  characterized  by  non-Markan  expressions 
(cf.  'your  Father  in  heaven,' Mk  lp6).  Such  loose 
agglomerations  of  stray  logia  are  frequent  in  our 
Second  Gospel  (Mk  ^--^  4i'-  '=■  =>-=°  S'*-  3-1-36  942-50 
10'"-'-  etc.).  In  Mt  21""'-==  the  language  is  alien 
{wapaxpfiij.a,  '  on  the  spot,'  vv."""-  =»,  occurs  17  times 
in  Lk.  and  Acts,  whereas  Mt.  and  Mk.  have  invari- 
ably elsewhere  eiiffus  or  ivdiois),  and  the  logia  taken 
from  Mk.  produce  duplication  of  Mt  17=°  and 
almost  of  6'^- '6.  Bjr  transposing  the  sequel  into 
immediate  juxtaposition  with  the  cursing,  and 
abridging  Mk  11="-==,  Mt.  avoids  one  of  the  two 
interruptions  of  the  principal  narrative  of  the 
purging  of  the  temple  and  its  consequences  (Mk 
111-10. 15-18. 27ff.)_  and  heightens  the  marvel,  but  fails 
to  remove  the  evidence  of  his  own  dependence 
afforded  by  the  duplication  of  17'-°,  and  only  brings 
into  stronger  relief  the  supplementary  and  super- 
erogatory character  of  the  sequel. 

This  superfluousness  of  Mk  II20  25  is  mo! 
of  such  attempted  explanations  as  that  1 
The  cursing  of  the  fiix-tree  w.is  'of  course'  meant  by  Jesus 
symbolically,  the  concrete  fulfilment  given  it  by  God  being  with- 
out intention  on  Jesus'  part.  <.>n  this  statement  Wellhausen 
(«(f  loc.)  comments  sarcasticallv  :  '  Weiss  understands  him.  God 
misunderstood  him.'  Nevertheless  Weiss  is  clearly  right  in 
maintaining  that  the  purpose  of  Jesus  would  be  just  as  com- 
pletely met  if  the  story  stopped  with  lli-ia. 

But  even  more  fatal  than  the  superfluousnes.s  of 
the  sequel  is  its  perversion  of  the  real  symbolism 
of  the  incident.  Nothing  is  said  of  that  which 
analogy  (Mt  3'°  7'"-'",  Lk  13''-'-')  proves  to  be  the  real 
moral  lesson ;  but  the  appended  sayings  are  adapted 
to  find  in  it  mere  evidence  of  the  wonder-working 


594 


FIG-TREi: 


FIG-TEEE 


power  of  belief.  The  disciples  are  to  learn  that 
the  prayer,  or  even  the  fiat,  of  faith — here  taken 
as  equivalent  to  undoubting  assurance — can  set  at 
defiance  the  order  of  nature.  This,  the  writer 
understands,  was  the  purpose  of  the  cursing.  As 
part  of  the  rebuke  of  the  disciples'  half-heartedness 
{ditpuxta)  in  the  case  of  the  epUeptic  boy  (Mt  17'"-  "" ; 
cf.  Lk  17^- ',  1  Co  13"),  the  hj^perbolic  saying  on 
mountain-moving  faith  is  iusti'tied.  Adapted  along 
with  Mt  6"-  '*  to  give  the  moral  lesson  of  the 
withering  of  the  fig-tree,  both  fall  to  a  lower  plane, 
scarcely  above  that  of  mere  thaumaturgy.  The 
symbolism  of  the  cursing  is  lost  in  the  mere  wonder 
of  withering  a  tree,  a  needless  miracle  of  disjilay. 

(c)  Even  after  recognition  of  the  unhistorical 
character  of  the  addition  Mk  11*-",  the  incident  of 
the  cursing  is  still  encumbered  with  inherent  im- 
probabilities, of  which  the  most  formidable  is  the 
imputation  of  hunger  as  the  motive  of  Jesus'  ap- 
proach to  the  tree.  It  is  not  enough  to  admit  tliat 
the  curse  must  be  explained,  if  at  all,  by  the  dis- 
covery, made  upon  close  inspection,  that  the  tree 
was  empty,  not  only  of  those  supposititious  edible 
products  which  could  not  be  reasonably  expected, 
but  of  even  the  rudiments  of  a  crop  in  the  season, 
and  to  suggest  that  when  Jesus  arrived  '  inmiedi- 
ately  the  disappointment  of  unsatislied  hunger 
was  lost  in  the  moral  lesson  which  flashed  across 
His  mind'  (Post,  ^.c).  Change  of  irotive  is  in-" 
conceivable,  because  hunger  cannot  have  caused  the 
approach.  Relics  of  the  last  season's  crop,  if 
sought  at  all,  would  be  sought  on  a  tree  whose 
still  leafless  branches  left  them  in  plain  si^ht,  not 
where  they  Avould  be  concealed  by  the  foliage,  if 
not  tlirust  off  by  the  new  growth.  So,  too,  of 
paggtm  ;  but  the  degree  of  starvation  necessary  to 
suggest  appeasing  tlie  stomach  by  paggtm  at  the 
season  in  question  is  improbable. 

There  remains  as  a  historical  basis  for  the  story 
only  the  possibility  that  Jesus'  footsteps  might  lie 
attracted  by  the  suggestion  of  a  possible  moral 
lesson  in  the  precocious  leafage  of  a  wayside  tree, 
the  discovery  that  it  covered  no  promise  of  fruit 
leading  Him  thereupon  to  an  utterance  in  the  vein 
of  prophetic  sjonbolism.  Gould  (Intcrnat.  Crit. 
Com.  '  Mark,'  212)  finds  evidence  in  Hos  1'-*,  Jn 
4«;",  Mt  13'"-'*  that  'such  acted  [.arables  were  not 
without  precedent  among  the  Jews.'  More  apposite 
might  be  the  reference  of  Ai5.  xi.  in  to  prophets  in 
the  early  Church  wlio  might  '  do  something  as  an 
outward  mysterj'  typical  of  the  Church  (Eph  5'-) 
because  in  like  manner  did  the  prophets  of  old 
time ' ;  cf.  Ac  21".  But  the  only  real  parallel  in 
the  story  of  Jesus  is  the  parable  (unaccompanied 
by  any  narrative  of  fact)  of  the  Stater  in  the  Fish's 
Alouth,  Mt  17-^-".  The  propensity  of  the  reader, 
if  not  of  t)he  Evangelist  nimself,  to  take  this  sym- 
bolic direction  to  Peter  as  implying  tlie  real  execu- 
tion of  a  miracle,  shows  how  easily  a  symbolic 
sentence  of  death,  directed  against  the  fig-tree  as 
the  representative  of  unrepentant  Israel,  niiglit  be 
taken  to  imply  its  literal  withering  away. 

Due  consideration  for  all  three  objections  leaves 
the  question  still  open  whether  the  story  of  Mk 
H 12-13.  records  a  specific  utterance  of  this  symbolic 
kind  directed  against  a  particular  tree,  on  a  j)ar- 
ticular  occasion ;  or  whether  tradition  and  the 
Evangelist  togetlier  have  not  simply  localized  be- 
tween Bethphage  (' Fig-town')  and  Jerusalem,  on 
occasion  of  the  supreme  \isitation  of  tlie  latter,  a 
\isualized  version  of  the  parable  Lk  13""". 

In  favour  of  the  fonrifr  ^■iew  mni-  he  fitPd  rritifs  no  Ir^s 
r.idical  than  H^  .1-  Ilnlti'n.aim  (ll.lh,,,,.  ,„l  i„r\  ,„„|  .1    w,.,s^ 

(.Das  Acltesle  F.'  ■    ■  i 

Schwartz  in  fa\.    i 

even  that  of  Ml.  i  i 

from  the  orrh.Li'i-        1  -_     - 

Titus,  pointed  l<>  i!,\  .Ili, ..-,.: ;.  ,...,..  ...^  ti.^   lhu.^i.,.!  '.■■: 

Jesus' warning  and  proiuist- ;  bin  Sch\\:iiU:  would  nol  admit  a 


basis  of  fact  for  this  early  identification  by  tradition  of  '  the ' 
fig-tree,  but  rather  such  as  Cheyne  instances  in  '  the  inn  '  of  the 
Good  Samaritan. 

The  phenomena  of  the  text  indicate,  however, 
that  the  process  must  at  least  precede  our  text  of 
JIark.  For  our  Evangelist  the  symbolic  sense  has 
already  disappeared,  leaving  only  the  work  of 
power.  Before  this  stage  of  the  process  could  be 
reached  the  parable  of  the  Barren  Fig-tree  must 
already  have  been  transformed  by  local  tradition 
into  symbolic  cursing  of  some  given  tree,  and  the 
moral  les.son  have  been  subsequentlj'  eclipsed  by 
the  purely  thaumaturgic  interest. 

More  conservative  criticism,  while  recognizing 
the  secondary  character  of  Mk  1 1="-^,  and  perhaps 
admitting  the  fundamental  identity  of  the  sym- 
bolic cursing  with  the  parable  whose  lesson  is  so 
obviously  the  same,  may  still  demand  more  evi- 
dence before  it  surrenders  the  possibility  that  our 
Second  Evangelist  retains  a  substantially  trust- 
worthy tradition  of  the  actual  site  and  occasion  of 
the  utterance. 

i.  Thcfig-trcc  of  Xathanacl  (Jn  1^).  Symbolism 
admittedly  enters  to  so  large  a  degi-ee  into  the 
narrative  of  the  Fourth  Gospel  (cf.  e.g.  Jn  9'  12**). 
that  it  is  not  surprising  if  the  more  radical  .school  of 
interpreters,  looking  upon  it  as  the  uniform  pro- 
duct of  an  allegorizing  fancy,  should  find  in  the 
unexplained  reference  of  .Tii  1^'  the  suggestion  of 
an  allegorical  sense,  the  hg-tree  having  the  sym- 
bolic meaning  of  religious  instruction  applied  in 
the  Talmud,  or  even  playing  the  part  of  the 
sacred  Bo-tree  (Ficus  rehgiosa)  in  Buddhist  legend. 
The  fact  that  commentators  from  Schoettgen  and 
Lightfoot  (Hor.  Heb.  ad  loc.)  downwards  have 
inferred  that  Nathanael  was  '  aut  orans,  aut  legens, 
ant  meditans,  aut  aliquid  religiosum  praestans  '  is 
proof  that  this  mental  association  is  natural ;  but 
it  cannot  be  truly  said  that  the  Evangelist  alle- 
gorizes. The  words  '  when  thou  wast  under  the 
fig-tree '  are  obscure,  not  because  we  fail  to  apply 
the  key,  but  because  the  Evangelist  has  left  some- 
thing lacking.  He  utters  an  enigma,  but  gives  no 
other  clue  than  the  recognition  by  Nathanael  of 
Je.sus'  supernatural  knowledge.  He  wishes  the 
reader  to  guess  that  Jesus  had  here  proved  Him- 
self the  KapSioTfi'uiiTTTjs  \6yos  (cf.  Wis  l"'*),  as  in  the 
case  of  the  Samaritan  Woman  later  (4"""-  ^)  ;  but 
he  either  does  not  trouble  himself,  or  was  unable,  to 
relate  the  facts. 

Cheyne  indeed  (Encj/c.  Bibl.  s.v.  'Nathanael')  considers 
the  usual  explanation  '  hardly  adequate.  If  it  simply  means, 
"  when  thou  hadst  retired  under  the  shade  of  the  fig-tree  for 
meditation  or  prayer,"  we  ask  why  the  Evangelist  did  not 
express  the  Waster's  meaning  more  distinctly  (contrast  Jn  4'8).' 
His  answer  is  a  conjectural  emendation  of  the  Hebrew  (!) 
in  a  supposititious  .source  of  the  Gospel,  JSOfiO  njiSl  '  when 
thou  wast  making  supplication,*  for  rtjxnn  nn^  nijiNi  'when 
thou  wast  under  the  fi^-tree.'  But  conjecture  of  this  sort 
discredits  itself.  To  every  reader  it  is  manifest  th.it  an  element 
of  the  narrative  is  intentionally  or  unintentinnnl]\' suppresse<i. 
If  it  be  granted  that '  the  Fourth  Gospel  is  a  cniuposite  work,' 
it  is  not  unreasonable  to  suppose  its  compiler  to  have  left 
untranscrihed  that  portion  of  his  source  which  would  have  ex- 
plained the  allusion  to  the  fig-tree,  just  as  he  has  omitted  in  his 
storv  of  the  feeding  of  the  multitude  (di**")  Jesus'  motive  for  the 
miracle  (logical  lacvtue  of  this  character  form  indeed  a  distinc- 
tive feature  of  this  Gospel], 

If  the  traditional  view  be  maintained,  the  Evan- 
gelist's reserve  will  be  accounted  for  as  reflecting 
the  enigmatic  nature  of  the  actual  dialogue,  which, 
so  far  as  bystanders  were  able  to  perceive,  had  no 
further  explanation. 

I.iTRRATirBB,— Besides  the  works  referred  to  in  the  art.  the 


•  :  Trench,  Miracles' 
"/•,  p.  413ff.  ;Liddon, 
;  Oodct  and  Weslcott, 

xii.  28. 

B.  W.  Bacon. 


FIRE 


FIRST  AND  LAST 


595 


FIRE  (ttCp  except  in  Mk  14'"'  =  Lk  22="  where 
(pQs  occurs)  is  referred  to  in  the  Gospels  much  more 
t'requentl}'  iu  a  figurati\e  tlian  in  a  literal  senso. 

1.  The  allusions  to  /itnril  fire  are  the  following, 
(ffl)  Those  concerned  with  the  domestic  use  of  tire 
for  heating  and  cooking.  In  the  better  houses  in 
Palestine  the  rooms  were  warmed  by  charcoal  fires 
in  portable  braziers  ;  in  poorer  houses  the  wood  or 
other  fuel  was  burned  in  a  liollow  in  the  earthen 
floor.  The  lire  into  which  tlie  epileptic  boy  fell 
(Mt  17'*  =  Mk  9--')  would  be  of  tlie  latter  descrip- 
tion. Tlie  lire  of  coals  kindled  for  warmth  in  the 
middle  of  the  cdiirl  cif  tlir  lii-li  prji-,fs  house  (Mk 
145^=Lk  -J-J--'---',  .III  is'-i,  :,u.l  ili:i(  .■iiiployed  for 
cookiii-oii  tlii-slHDcdi  ihr  l,;ik.'  .,t  (;;ii;icc(Jn2I»), 
wouhl  lie  charcoal  lives  .,n  llir  -nmud.  (6)  Fire 
from  heaven  {lightning,  or  sonietlung  of  the  same 
kind,  natural  or  miraculous)  ^^■as  a  frequent  form 
of  Divine  judgment  in  OT.  One  instance  of  this 
(the  destruction  of  Sodom)  is  recalled  in  Lk  17-", 
and  another  (in  the  life  of  Elijah)  ijrompted  the 
feeling  and  suggested  the  question  of  James  and 
JohninLk9«. 

2,  Thefgtirativc  references  to  lire  arp  of  v,^rious 
kinds.  Since  wood  which  was  \\(.>it]ili-;s  for  any 
other  purpose  was  used  as  fui.'l,  liic  bi-raiue  an 
emblem  of  the  judgment  await  mi;  sj.iritiuil  un- 
fruitfulness  (Mt  3"'=Lk  3»,  Mt  7"',  Jn  io"j.  A 
similar  idea  was  suggested  by  the  burning  of  other 
worthless  things,  such  as  chaff  (Mt  3'-  =  Lk  S")  and 
tares  (Mt  13'»-  •">•  ^-).  The  '  furnace  of  fire,'  which 
is  part  of  the  natural  imagery  of  the  parable  of  the 
Tares,  becomes,  in  the  parable  of  the  Drag-net,  a 
standing  expression  for  the  destiny  of  the  wicked 
(Mt  13™).  Similarly  we  have  'eternal'  (RV)  or 
'everlasting'  (AV)  fire  (Mt  18'  20-"),  'unquench- 
able' fire  (Mt  3'2=Lk  3",  Mk  9«- J»),  and  (RVm) 
'the  Gehenna  of  fire'  (RV  'the  hell  of  fire,'  AV 


Mt 


'  hell  fire ')  in  Mt 
last  of  these  exjircssioi 
text  as  the  otlMi  Umi 
meaning.  From  llir  < 
of  Hinnom  the  namr  '. 
been  appropriated  in  .lew  i-li  lliou'jiil  t 
of  the  final  punishment  (■!  I  In'  «  i.k.M 
burning  and  corruijtioii,  in  wliiili  Imil 
spirit  would  be  tortured.  In  tin'  p.i^ 
mentioned  our  Lord  must  be  nmlin  -tcio 
jjopular  religious  language  of  His  tim 
may  have  been  in  a  less  literal  and  nm 
sense  than  usual.  To  the  gi-onp  of  sa 
9^'-«is  attached  another  (Mk  »^''),  in  ■ 
the  emblem  of  the  self-discipline  in  tli 
which  the  destruction  of  Gehenna  : 
world  is  to  be  avoided.  The  <h-«trn 
fire  made  the  phrase  '  I  will  ,-(  n.l  lire 
form  of  prophetic  Divine  threaleniiej 
this  phrase  is  taken  nji  hy  (lni-l  (I.I 
pressing,  in  one'  aspeet,  the  n-nll    nf 

emblem  of  the  imril  \'  .uni  inien-il  \-  ■.!  i 


(-Mk9«-^'" 

*-).     The 

iind   in   the  s 

ji^e.    Ihe    k,. 

•line  con- 
to  their 
le  v.alley 

ni;s  in  Mk 
lich  tire  is 
world,  by 


iillii 


accompanymg  the  li.iptisin  ot  tin'  Unix  Spnit  ^^■llleh 
he  foretold  that  Christ  slioul<l  bestow  (IMt  3"  = 
Lk  3i«). 

The  eyes  of  the  glorified  Christ,  as  seen  in  the 
vision  of  the  Apocalypse,  are  compared  to  a  flame 
of  fire  (Rev  1"  '218  19'-). 


Origen  (Horn,  in  Jei:  xx.  n)  h.-w  | 
arjraphon  of  Jesus  :  '  He  wlio  is  near  int 
is  far  from  me  is  far  from  tlie  kinirdom. 


reserved    the    following; 


James  Patrick. 

"InMk  1454  =  Lk  2256  If: 
In  classical  Gr.  a  simijai 
H  here  a  Are  is  thought  of  as  the  source  of  light  as  well  as  heat 
(so  also  1  Mao  1221),  cf.  v.28  where  mp  is  emploved).  Its  appro- 
priateness in  both  the  .Synoptic  passages  is  due  to  the  fact  that 
it  was  night,  and,  in  the  Lk.  passage,  to  the  further  fact  that 
it  was  the  blaze  of  the  fire  which  revealed  Peter  to  the  maid. 
In  both  cases  RV  brings  cut  the  meaning  by  rendering  Tpiii  t6 
si: '  in  the  light  of  the  tire.' 


FIRKIN  {/j-erpnTris,  Jn  2"  oidy).— An  Attic  liquid 
measure,  which  is  generally  regarded  as  the  equi- 
valent of  the  Hebrew  hath'  (cf.  XXX  2  Ch  4=),  and 
is  therefore  '  able  to  contain  seventy-two  sextaries ' 
(Jos.  Ant.  VIII.  ii.  9),  accurately  71-28  pints,  or 
approximately  9  English  gallons.  '  Firkin  '  (AV 
and  RV) — the  fourth  jmrt  of  a  barrel  containuig 
from  32  to  36  gallons— as  a  translation  is  sufficiently 


Pre\iinisly  eiM|aie,l  fur  the  ablutions  of  the 
guests,  the  \\ater  ]  lilt  ^  a  re  filled  afresh.  Their  char- 
acter .and  contents  pnne  the  reality  of  the  miracle. 
Very  efl'ective  is  the  touch  added  by  the  expres- 
sion fws  &VU,  'up  to  the  brim,'  if  only  in  presenting 
a  sure  basis  for  calculating  the  quantity  of  this 
wedding  gift.  The  lowest  estimate  of  the  quantity 
of  wine  must  be  over  12  firkins  or  108  gallons'; 
yet,  had  the  vessels  been  larger  they  had  been 
filled  ;  had  there  been  more  vessels,  more  wine.  To 
such  lavishness  there  need  not  be  imputed  in- 
discretion. Our  Lord  did  not  give  simply  to  meet 
a  pressing  need,  or  even  for  future  use,  but  rather 
to  exemplify  the  illimitable  power  of  the  Giver. 
'  Tt  is  His  first  miracvdous  sign  ...  it  must  become 
the  type  of  the  fulness  of  grace  and  joy  and  strength 
whicli  the  only-begotten  Son  brings  to  the  earth  ' 
(Godet  on  Jn  2*). 

Literature.— Art.  '  Weights  and  Measures'  in  Hastings'  DB, 
iv.  911-013  ;  Enci/c.  Bibl.  iv.  col.  6294  f. 

Alex.  A.  Duncan. 

FIRST  AND  LAST  (6  TpCnot  xoi  6  t'lrxa-ros).— This 
title  occurs  three  times  in  Rev.  (1"  2*  22").  In  the 
first  two  passages  it  is  clearly  Christ  wdio  claims 
the  title  for  Himself,  as  appears  from  the  references 
to  the  Resurrection  in  the  immediate  contexts. 
In  all  pruhiihility  the  same  is  the  ca.se  in  the  third 
passa-e  ij_"- !.  eNe  tlii're  is  an  abrupt  change  of 

the  speake)    il Mr-e.  later  (v.i«  'I,  Je.sus,  have 

sent  mine  aiejel,'  I'te. ).  Ilewever,  Alford  and  some 
others  hold  that  God  the  Father  is  the  speaker  in 
22'=. 

'  The  First  and  the  Last'  is  claimed  by  Jehovah 
as  a  descrii)tion  of  Himself,  with  slight  variations 
in  the  lovm,  in  Is  4P  44''  4Si-  (cf,  also  43'»).  The 
(Ireek  form  of  the  title  in  ]!ev.  is  not  identical  with 
that  uiM'n  by  the  LXX  in  a]i\- of  these  passages, 
in  all  of  which  the  LXX  has  dillcrcnces  represent- 
ing difl'erem-es  in  the  Hebrew  (41^  iyi^  deos  TpOros, 
^ai  CIS  rd  tTrcpxifieva  eyii  eijxL  ;  44''  iyu  Trpuro!  Kal  iyCi 
/lerd  Tavra  ;  48'"  67(6  etyut  TrpwToj,  Kal  iyiij  ei/xi  cU  t6v 
aluva).  It  is  plain,  however,  that  a  supreme  de- 
scription of  Jehovah  in  the  OT  is  applied  in  Rev. 
to  Christ,  and  the  significance  of  the  transference 
as  regards  tho  Christology  of  the  book  is  unmistak- 
able. Besides  this,  in  22'',  where,  as  has  been 
said,  it  is  natural  to  regard  Christ  as  the  speaker, 
the  title  '  the  First  and"  the  Last '  st.'i,nds  between 
two  others,  'the  Aljiha  and  the  Omega,'  'the 
lieginiiim;  and  the  Kn.l,-  the  lirst  of  wlii.li  is  found 
also  in  l^aml  ■_'!".  ami    the    ^ero.ul  in   ■'V,  in  which 


I'S  III, 


niaintained  l.y  some  (Ilaslii|.j>-  ///;,  v<.l.  iv.  p.  263"), 
God  the  Father,  or  'God  in  tho  Undivided  Unity 
of  His  Being.'  It  may  be,  therefore,  that  in  Rev. 
itself  we  have  the  same  supreme  titles  dven  to 
(iod  the  Father  and  to  Christ.  But  whether  this 
be  so  or  not,  once  it  is  admitted  that  22'^  is  spoken 
by  Christ,  the  accumulation  in  that  verse  of  de- 
scriptions which  could  only  belong  to  the  infinite 
being  of  God  emphatically  marks  the  belief  of  the 


Ha. 


Oft 


>f  Christ  (see 
ol.  iv.  p.  263'). 

■itiulaled  l»v  Moses 


Mainionides  (liitii  cent,  a.d.),  tli'' 
perfect  faith  tliat  the  Creator,  liliss. 
and  the  last'  {Authorized  Dail't  I 
Hebrew  Conijregations  of  the  British  I 
says  that  the  title  was  also  given  I 
Messiah  (Hor.  Ueb.  torn.   ii.   lib.   i. 


596 


FIRST  AND  LAST 


FIRSTBORN 


'] : '  JltJKl  Primus.  Ipse  Deus- 
us,  et  ego  noviesimus  ;  quilius 
voluit.     JudsBi   vero  antiqui 


divinam  illius  naturam  indigitaii 
Jesa.  xliv.  6.  JBgo,  inquit,  prir, 
verbis  ^oternitatem  designatam 
etiam  Messiam  sic  vocant  ')• 

The  natme  of  God  necessarily  transcends  defini- 
tion, but  '  the  First  and  the  Last '  and  the  parallel 
titles  are  endeavours  to  suggest  such  conceptions 
of  God  iis  men  can  comprehend.  It  -would  not  be 
enou<'li  to  say  that  '  the  First  and  the  Last '  is  the 
equivalent  of  '  the  Eternal.'  The  title  recalls  the 
old  covenant  name  of  God,  Jehovah  (Jahweh),  and 
its  interpretation  in  Ex  3".  It  seems  jjlainly  to  be 
an  expansion  of  tliat  name,  of  which  '  the  Eternal ' 
is  not  a  satisfactory  rendering.  Ex  3"  ('I  am 
what  I  am,'  or,  more  accui'ately,  '  I  will  be  what  I 
will  be')  does  not  give  to  nin-  an  abstract  meaning. 
n-n  is  ylyvoixai.,  not  ei/Jil.  It  does  not  mean  to  be 
essentially,  but  phenomenally.  The  idea  of  nm-  is 
not  of  abstract  existence,  but  of  active  being; 
manifestation  in  history.  Jehovah  is  not  a  God  who 
barely  exists,  but  One  who  asserts  His  being,  and 
enters  into  an  historical  relation  with  humanity. 
Not  being  determined  by  anything  external  to 
(before  or  after)  Himself,  He  is  consistent  vnth 
Himself,  true  to  His  promises,  and  unchangeable 
in  His  purposes.  He  will  not  fail  or  disappoint 
His  servants.  He  wOl  approve  Himself.  What 
He  will  be  is  left  undefined,  or  defined  only  in 
terms  of  Himself,  for  the  very  reason  that  His 
providential  dealings  with  His  people  in  their  ever- 
varvin"  needs  are  inexhaustible— are  more   than 


can  be  numbei-ed  or  fxiiresso 

l(s,. 

Driver  on  '  The 

Tetragrararaaton,'  St^n'n,   I: 

hii',, 

(Jxf.  1885 ;   and 

A.  B.  Davidson  in  Hastmus 

/>/: 

V  ol.  ii.  pp.  199^ 

845-). 

Thisinten^-.'tx'""  -    '-■    "'■  ' 

-    ;n,,l.UrR-(l    in    tllC 

iirophels.     HvIh   -•  i    ^h   I     1 1  • 
Divine  name  .1.  i        ^ 

ili.^  iLLri.ninj;  of  tlie 
1    1(1  ihr  Lord,  tlie 

first,  and  will,  :,   In      ;     ' 

.    ih  i-  i;.>.l  as  the 

i.r   I:^m';  and    on 

the  Church,  the  new  spiritual  creation— He  is 
absolutely  prior  and  sovereign,  because  there  too 
He  is  the  source  of  life.  His  Resurrection  is  the 
ground  of  His  headship  of  the  Church  (Rev  1".  See 
Lightfoot  and  Meyer  on  Col  l""-" ;  cf.  Eph  l'»,  Ph 

■29.  10.  11). 

It  is  interesting  to  trace  the  same  underlying 
tliought  about  the  nature  of  God  in  Rev.  and  in 
the  Fourth  Gospel.  A  connexion  has  been  pointed 
out  between  iyd  ei'/it  6  Trpuros  xai  6  l(7x<'-'''o^  of  Rev. 
and  the  similar  phrases  of  Is  41-'  48'-  and  the 
explanation  of  the  Divine  name  Jehovah  in  Ex  3". 
There  seems  to  be  a  correspondence  between  the 
evii  ei/ii  of  the  LXX  in  these  and  other  passages 
(Is  43"-",  Dt  32»)  and  the  iydi  ei>i  of  Jn  S"-^'-™ 
(cf.  also  13").  In  all  these  passages  the  words 
have  a  pregnant  meaning.  In  Jn  8,  Christ  presents 
Himself  to  the  Jews  not  simply  as  the  Messiah, 
but  as  One  who  has  '  life  in  Himself  as  being  the 
spring  of  life.  He  is  infinitely,  as  God  is.  He  shares 
the  being  of  God.  Therefore  He  claims  supreme 
control  not  only  of  the  seen  and  the  finite,  but  of 
the  unseen  and  the  infinite  (see  Westcott,  ad  loc). 

Cheyne  (on  Is  41^)  thinks  that  the  iyw  di^i,  of 
Jn  18"  is  intended  in  the  same  sense,  and  finds  this 
view  confirmed  by  the  superaatural  effect  of  the 
sounds  described  in  v.'K 

All  existiMKi'  is  iirc.'ssarily  relative  to  Him  who 
is  'the  I'ii-t  .umI  \\n-  Last.'  Nothing  can  enter 
into  the  liii.il  Miniiiiim  u|i  of  all  things,  or  jiartake 
of  eternity,  wliidi  ilnis  not  receive  life  from  Him 
and  is  not  conformed  to  His  purpose.  When 
Christ  claims  this  title  for  Himself,  it  is  plainly 
announced  that  the  revelation  of  God  in  Christ,  in 
what  He  was  and  what  He  did,  is  the  key  to  the 
issues  of  human  life.  Christianity  is  final.  See 
also  art.  ALPHA  AND  Omega.  A.  E.  Ro.ss. 

FIRSTBORN.— 

.  MH  .1  tiM  in.i.hi  mental  ideas  with  regard  to  Jeliovali  in  early 
I  I  H  I  «  I'.tlLil  .il  His  being  owner  of  tlie  land,  and  consequently 
1  1,1  ,1  "  .if  ill  thai  the  land  tironghtfortli  and  of  all  that  lived 


(Speakers  Com.).  The  prophets  emphasize  tlie  expression  of  Hu- 
moral unchangeableness  of  God  in  the  name  Jehovah  (see  esp. 
Is  26A  «  41'',  Hos  125. 6,  Mai  38). 

It  mav  be  .said,  then,  tliat  the  title  '  the  First 
and  the  Last,'  as  applied  to  Christ  in  Rev.,  recalls, 
and  attaches  to  Him,  all  that  the  OT  writers  had 
realized  of  the  nature  of  God.  How  much  more  it 
contains  for  a  writer  who  uses  it  in  tlie  light  of  the 
Incarnation  may  be  gathered  from  Col  1"-=^",  a  pas- 
sage related  as  resting  upon  the  same  Christological 
basis  of  faitli,  and  which  is  indeed  the  6  irpSros  rai 
6  liTxaros  of  Rev.  written  nut  at  full  )r-iiL4b.  Botli 
authors  alike  cl.-iiiii  ii IV  Clni-t  :ili-i'!ui''  -ii|ii'Mii.m  y 
in  relation  to  the  I'liixc'i -r.  ilic  ii.iniml  i  i.-:!!  mpm. 
and  in  relation  to  the  I'liunli,  ih.-  m-w  \l<ii,il 
Creation,  iVa  yhrjTai  4v  Trdau'  ai'ros  TrpojTtui^f.  Im)! 
both  Christ  is  tpwtotokos  Trdarii  Kricreus,— prior  to 
all  creation  and  sovereign  o\or  all  creation.  He 
is  the  source  of  life  to  the  llnivcrse,  the  centre 
of  all  its  developments,  the  mainspring  of  all 
its  motions — iv  avrifi  (KTlad-q  to.  Travra  (cf.  Jn  l"* 
8  yiyovfv  iv  avri}  fwT)  ^v).  And  as  all  things  had 
their  origin  in  Him  (the  First),  so  all  things  return 
to  Him  as  linn  -ol  :m,,1  .unsmumation  (the  Last) 
— tA  TTdi/Tn    ■  <    ,  ...TO.'  ^KTiarai  (cf.  Ro  IP', 

He2'",wli.M.  :  .  ,  ii.  .■  is  to  (!od).  All  things 
have  their  -i.li.i.'  ^  iiiiim  the  sphere  of  the  life  of 
Him  who  is  •  tlie  l''iist  .-iiid  the  Last.'  In  Him  they 
originate  and  in  Him  they  cohere— oiV6s  fern  irpo 
irdvTUV,  Kal  tA  Trai/ro  fV  aiV^i  cvvidTtiKev  (cf.  Ac  17^, 
in  reference  to  God).  He  is  the  Uaixb^  of  the  Uni- 
verse.     And  such  also  is  His  position  in  relation  to     giv 


Hrst-fruits.t  Not  o 
sion,  but  the  people 
likewise  His  ;  this  v 
overlordship.    Tlifi 


children 


•  This  OT  conception  is  illustrated  in  the  Gospels  by  the  par- 
.able  of  the  Wicked  Husbandmen,  Mt  213M  and  parallel  pas- 
sages ;  rf.  also  Mk  1 33<.  ,     ,    ,, 

i  o  „.iii    nf  ,-niiisf  lie  uiidiistood  that  this  was  adapted  to 

,,.,,'  ill,.  ,  iilii.    ii,,iiiiili,    1,1,    uilli  its  flocks 


§  There  is  a  Talmudi( 


FIRSTBORN 


FIRST-FRUITS 


597 


commands  the  redemption  of  the  firstborn  :  '  All  the  firstborn 
of  man  among  thy  sons  shalt  thou  redeem'  (Ex  1313,  cf.  IS" 
342»). 

From  the  foregoing  one  can  understand  that  the  term  '  first- 
born,* ^rpuTOToxos  (that  which,  as  the  most  precious,  belonged, 
in  the  first  instance,  to  Jeliovah),  came  to  be  one  of  particular 
honour  (ct.  Ex  422,  jer  319),  and  it  is  used  as  such  in  reference 
to  Christ  (Eo  829,  Col  115- 1«). 

The  only  occurrence  of  the  term  in  the  Gospels 
is  in  Lk  2'  Kal  h-eKev  rhv  vihv  rbv  TrpiordTOKOn,*  and 
apart  from  its  significance  to  the  Jewish  mind  as 
outlined  above,  its  importance  lies  in  its  bearing 
upon  the  question  of  the  perpetual  virginity  of  the 
mother  of  Christ.  The  term  does  not  necessarOy 
suggest  the  subsequent  birth  of  other  children ;  for, 
in  the  first  place,  as  a  title  of  honour  it  would  natur- 
ally be  mentioned  in  connexion  with  Christ  by  the 
Evangelist ;  and  secondly,  to  Jews  the  significance  of 
'  firstborn'  lay  in  the  special  sanctity  which  attached 
to  such ;  t  this  is  clear  from  what  has  been  said  in 
the  previous  section  ;  indeed,  St.  Luke  directly  im- 
plies as  much  when  he  quotes,  in  substance,  from 
Ex  13^' '-  '  Every  male  that  openeth  the  womb 
shall  be  called  holy  to  the  Lord '  (Lk  2^). 

Redemption  of  the  firstborn. — In  the  passage  Lk 
222ir.  two  distinct  ceremonies  are  referred  to  :  the 
presentation  to  tlie  Lord,  and  the  redemption  ;  the 
former  of  these  implies  the  actual  dedication  of 
the  child  to  God  (cf.  1  S  1-*)  ;  from  what  has  been 
said  above,  this  ceremony  must  be  regarded  as  the 
fulfilling  in  spirit  of  the  primitive  act  of  literally 
devoting  (sacrificing)  the  firstborn  sun  to  the  Deity. 
The  distinction  between  the  two  ceremonies  may 
be  illustrated  by  the  practice  of  modern  orthodox 
Jews.  The  father  of  the  child  first  presents  his 
firstborn  to  the  cohen,  and  makes  a  declaration 
ending  with  the  words  :  '  It  is  .said,  Sanctify  unto 
me  all  the  firstborn,  whatsoever  openeth  the 
womb  among  the  children  of  Israel,  both  of  man 
and  of  beast  ;  it  is  mine.'  This  is  a  definite  act  of 
presentation  to  God,  of  renunciation  on  the  part  of 
the  father, — the  child  is  no  longer  his.  This  part 
of  the  ceremony  corresponds  to  Lk  2^'-  ^-  -'•  ^. 
Then  the  fatlier  places  fifteen  shillings  (five  selaim 
or  shekels)  before  the  cohen,  who  thereupon  asks: 
'  Which  wouldst  thou  rather,  give  me  thy  first- 
born son,  the  firstborn  of  his  mother,  J  or  redeem 
him  for  five  selaim,  which  thou  art  bound  to  give 
according  to  the  Law  ? '  The  father  replies  :  '  I 
desire  rather  to  redeem  my  son,  and  here  thou  hast 
the  value  of  his  redemption,  wliich  I  am  bound  to 
give  according  to  the  Law.'g  This  ceremony 
corresponds  to  Lk  2-^.  II  This  redemption  of  the 
firstborn  H  (]3n  jr-is)  took  place  thirty  days  after 
birth  (Lk  2-- ;  cf.  Lv  12^  Nu  IS'^),**  and  the  price 
of  redemption  was,  according  to  Nu  3"  18'^,  five 
shekels ;  in  Ex  13'^  the  command  to  redeem  the 
firstborn  is  given,  though  the  price  of  redemption 
is  not  mentioned,  while  in  Lv  12  there  is  no 
mention  at  all  regarding  the  redemption  of  the 
firstborn,  reference  being  made  only  to  an  atone- 
♦  In  Mt  125  To»  ir/nuTdi-oao.  is  read  by  DC  and  the  OL  version 
only  ;  it  must  therefore  be  rejected  in  this  passage, 
t  Cf.  He  1*5,  where  to»  TpuTiroxav  means  '  only-begotten.' 
:  The  law  of  the  redemption  of  the  firstborn  '  applies  to  the 
firstborn  of  the  mother  and  not  of  the  father.  Hence  the 
husband  of  several  wives  would  have  to  redeem  the  firstborn 
of  each  one  of  them,  while  the  husband  of  a  woman  wlio  had 
had  children  by  a  previous  marriage  need  not  redeem  her  child 
although  it  was  his  firstborn'  (Jeurish  Encyc.  v.  396).  More- 
over, the  first  male  child  of  a  woman  need  not  be  redeemed  if  a 
female  child  has  been  born  before  him. 

§  The  money  is  sometimes  returned,  but  the  Jewish  authorities 
do  not  look  upon  this  with  favour. 

II  See  The  Authorized  Daily  Prayer-Book'^  (ed.  S.  .Singer), 
pp.  308,  309. 

TI  According  to  Ex  1313-15  the  redemption  of  the  firstborn  was 
instituted  as  an  abiding  act  of  thanksgiving  to  Jehovah  for 
having  spared  the  firstborn  males  of  the  children  of  Israel  in 
Egypt.  Concerning  the  connexion  between  the  offering  of  the 
firstborn  and  the  Passover,  see  Nowack,  oj}.  cit.  §  99. 

**  The  same  custom  is  kept  up  by  modern  orthodox  Jews  ;  if 
the  day  falls  on  a  .Sabbath  or  a  Holy  Day,  the  ceremony  is  per- 
formed  on  the  following  day. 


ment  which  has  to  be  made  for  the  puritication  of 
the  mother ;  it  may  be  owing  to  Lv  12  that  in  Lk 
2^-  'their'  purification  is  spoken  of,  i.e.  of  the 
child  as  well  as  of  the  mother ;  at  any  rate  v.'-^ 
seems  to  point  to  an  amalgamation  of  the  offerings 
due  from  the  mother  for  puritication,  and  on 
behalf  of  tlie  child  for  redemption ;  *  in  the 
modern  service  of  prayer  of  thanksgiving  for 
women  after  recovery  from  childbirth  no  provi- 
sion is  made  for  any  offering. 

Literature. — See  the  authorities  referred  to  in  the  foot- 
notes. W.  O.  E.  OE.STERLKY. 

FIRST-FRUITS.— On  the  offering  of  first-fruits 
as  a  Jewish  institution  see  Hastings'  DB,  vol.  ii. 
p.  10  f. 

The  word  rendered  first-fruits  (dTropxi;)  occurs 
8  times  in  the  NT,  and  only  in  1  Co  15-"-  ^  is  it 
applied  directly  to  our  Lord :  '  Now  hath  Christ 
been  raised  from  the  dead,  the  first-fruits  of  them 
that  are  asleej) ' ;  '  Christ  the  first-fruits ;  then 
they  that  are  Christ's.'  It  is  possible,  as  some 
have  suggested,  that  there  is  a  reference  in  v.-"  to 
the  specific  oflerino;  of  the  sheaf  of  the  first  ripe 
corn  on  the  second  day  of  the  Passover  feast  (Lv 
03111. 11)  The  coincidence  of  our  Lord's  resurrection 
on  the  16th  Nisan — the  day  on  which  the  sheaf 
was  offered  before  the  Lord— would  no  doubt 
suggest  the  idea  of  the  first-fruits  to  the  Apostle's 
mind.  But,  even  apart  from  this  specific  reference, 
the  figure  of  the  risen  Christ  as  the  first-fruits 
from  the  dead  is  perfectly  natural.  And  there  is 
more  here  than  might  be  at  first  s\ii.|h.>i.(1.  Christ's 
resurrection  is  the  pledge  of  His  ]no|ili'  ^  re.surrec- 
tion,  just  as  the  first-fruits  a\cicj  tliu  [.li(l;;c  of  the 
harvest  to  come.  Christ  is  the  first  to  be  raised 
from  the  dead,  and  so  stands  in  the  front  rank 
alone,  as  the  first-fruits  were  plucked  before  the 
rest  of  the  produce  was  ripe  ;  but,  just  as  certainly 
as  the  harvest  in  due  time  followed  the  first-fruits, 
so  shall  those  who  sleep  in  Christ  be  raised  up  in 
due  time,  and  stand  in  the  second  rank  after  Him. 
But,  further,  it  is  clearly  implied  here,  and  ex- 
plicitly taught  in  other  passages,  that  as  is  Christ 
the  first-fruits,  so  shall  be  the  rest  of  the  harvest. 
There  is  implied  here  a  community  of  nature  and 
character  between  Christ,  the  first-fruits,  and  His 
people.  It  is  only  the  time  of  their  manifestation 
that  is  different.  The  portion  gathered  as  first- 
fruits  is  of  the  same  nature  as  the  rest,  and  the  rest 
is  of  the  same  nature  and  character  and  standing 
as  the  first-fruits.  This  is  indicated  specially  in  v.-', 
where  it  is  said  that,  as  death  came  by  man,  so  it 
is  only  by  man  that  the  resurrection  can  come,  i.e. 
resurrection  and  triumph  over  death  can  be  man's 
possession  only  when  given  him  by  one  who  is 
man  like  himself.  Man,  therefore,  must  be  of  the 
same  nature  and  character  and  standing  as  Christ, 
the  first-fruits.  What  is  suggested  here  is  plainly 
taught  elsewhere  (Col  3^  Ko  8=»,  1  Jn  3=).  Christ, 
according  to  these  passages,  is  the  first-fruits,  the 
firstborn  among  many  brethren,  not  only  as  the 
pledge  that,  as  He  rose,  so  His  peoiile  shall  rise 
from  the  dead,  but  also  that  as  He  is,  in  nature 
and  character,  so  shall  His  people  be.  That  is, 
perhaps,  the  most  glorious  promise  of  the  resurrec- 
tion first-fruits. 

In  Ro  8-^  the  first-fruits  of  the  Spirit  received  by 
Christ's  people  are  referred  to.  That  they  have 
received  the  Spirit  in  some  measure  and  have  been 
sanctified  inwardly,  is  the  pledge  that  they  shall 
receive  it  in  yet  greater  abundance,  that  there 
shall  be  a  final  outpouring  of  the  Spirit  by  which 
the  body  of  man  shall  be  redeemed  even  as  the 
spirit  has  been  sanctified — the  psychical  body  being 

*  Among  modern  orthodox  Jews,  priests  and  Levites  are 
exempt  from  the  law  of  redeeming  their  firstborn  ;  this  applies 
also  to  those  whose  wives  are  daughters  of  priests  or  Levites. 


598 


FISH,  FISHEK,  FISHING 


FISH,  FISHER,  FISHIXO 


changed  into  a  spiritual.  In  Ko  11'*  16'',  1  Co  16''', 
Ja  l",  Kev  14-'  the  reference  is  to  the  future 
redemption  of  mankind,  of  which  those  already 
gathered  in  are  the  tirst-fruits  and  pledge.  Those 
already  redeemed  and  presented  to  God  as  holy 
are  the  tirst-fruits,  the  pledge  of  the  coming  har- 
vest of  a  holy  redeemed  humanity. 

LiTKRATl-RE.— Schiirer,  UJPh.  i.  237  ;  Edersheim,  The  Temple  : 
its  Minislnj,  etc.,  xix.  ;  Stapter,  Palestine  in  Time  of  Christ, 
bk.  ii.  ch.  yj ;  .losephs,  .ludaism  an  Creed  aiid  Life,  bk.  ii.  ch. 
5  ;  art.  '  Fir.-t- Fruits'  in  Jew.  Encyc.  vol.  v. 

J.  SOUTAR. 

FISH,  FISHER,  FISHING.— The  present  article 
is  not  concerned  \\ith  the  tish  of  the  Mediterranean, 
nor  with  those  which  inhabit  various  watercourses 
in  the  Holy  Land,  nor  even  with  those  that  l)elong 
to  the  lower  course  of  the  Jordan  or  of  its  southeiu 
tributaries,  or  of  the  other  streams  that  How  into 
the  Dead  Sea.  Tlie  only  lish  mentioned  in  the 
Gospels,  the  omy  ones,  consequently,  which  come 
within  the  scope  of  thus  Dictionary,  are  tliose  of 
the  Lake  of  Gennesaret,  to  which  we  naturally 
add  those  that  are  found  in  the  upper  course  of 
the  Jordan  or  in  tho  springs  in  the  neighbourliood 
of  tlie  Lake. 

Fish  (OT  :^,  .nji!)  are  designated  in  the  NT  only 
by  the  general  term  Ix^is,  alternating  occasionally 
witli  its  diminutive  IxSOSiov,  without  the  employ- 
ment of  the  latter  term  necessarily  marking  any 
intended  distinction ;  cf.  for  an  instance  in  point, 
Mt  15^^  with  v.**.  Nowhere  in  the  whole  Bible  do 
we  find  a  special  name  for  a  deflni 

Fish  formed  a  large  part  of  the  : 
side  population.  This  may  be  interred  trom  the 
threefold  question  of  Jesus  (Lk  11",  cf.  Mt  V),  in 
which  the  commonest  foods  are  enumerated : 
bread,  fish,  eggs.  The  same  conclusion  is  implied 
in  what  is  related  with  rff.Tence  to  the  two  multi- 
plications of  the  loaves.  On  the  occasion  of  the 
first  (Mt  14'3--i,  Mk  0^"",  Lk  9'"",  Jn  G'"'')  it  is 
said  that  there  was  present  a  lad  with  five  loaves 
and  two  fishes ;  in  the  account  of  the  second  (Mt 
X532-39_  Mk  S'-")  it  is  mentioned  that,  in  addition 
to  the  seven  loaves,  there  Avere  also  '  a  few  small 
fishes.'     We  may  cite,  further,  Lk  24*=. 

It  is  interesting  to  note  that  for  the  '  small  fishes  '  of  the  other 
narratives  the  Fourth  Gospel  employs  the  term  o-i^tiptov,  which 
properly  signifies  simply  '  nourishment,' '  footl."  Bochart(iffe<-o;. 
i.  p.  41)  has  already  shown  that  this  word  was  employed  in  the 
same  way  by  the  best  Greek  writers,  €.(/■  Plato,  Mena'nder,  etc., 
and  that  i-J/o^ayaj  is  met  with  .'is  synonymous  with  '  fish-eaters.' 

It  is  legitimate  to  supnose  that  a  trade  in  fisli 
was  carried  on  between  the  Lake  of  Tiberias  and 
the  rest  of  the  country.  The  name  of  tlie  town  of 
Tarichew  (taptxe^ai),  situated  on  tlie  shore  of  tlie 
Lake,  implies  a  business  connected  with  salted 
provisions  (rdpixoi).  It  may  be  that  this  traffic  ex- 
tended as  far  a-s  Jerusalem  ;  some  have  supposed 
that  it  was  in  this  way  that  one  of  Jesus'  disciples, 
the  companion  of  Simon  Peter,  was  known  to  the 
high  priest  (Jn  18'"-);  but  this  is  nothing  more 
than  an  ingenious  conjecture. 

'Fisher'*  or  'fisherman'  (Heb.  :~)  is  e.\pres.sed 
in  the  NT  by  aXeevs  or  aXievs ;  the  verli  '  to 
fish'  by  dXiei/cii-.  Several  of  the  first  and  princi- 
pal disciples  followed  the  calling  of  fishermen. 
The  Synoptics  describe  tlie  scene  when  Jesus 
called  them  to  follow  Him  (Mt  4'»-=-,  Mk  I's-^, 
Lk  5'-").  These  three  narratives  contain  the 
promise,  'I  will  make  you  fishers  of  men.'  Lk. 
connects  the  story  with  tlie  miraculous  draught ; 
cf.  in  this  respect  also  Jn  21*-".  In  one  of  the 
parables  of  the  Kingdom  (Mt  IS"-'")  Jesus  compares 
tlie  latter  to  a  net :  and  the  separation  wliich  the 
fishermen  make,  in  tlieir  catcli,  between  what  is 
good  and  what  is  bad,  is  used  to  symbolize  tlie 


separation  of  the  righteous  from  the  wicked  at 
the  Final  Judgment.  The  criterion  by  which  good 
and  bad  fish  are  distinguished  is  not  expressly 
indicated.  The  point  in  view  might  be  the  differ- 
ence between  clean  and  unclean  foods  as  defined 
by  the  Law  (cf.  Dt  W-,  Lv  ll"'-) ;  but  there  might 
be  other  motives,  such  as  those  which  Lortet 
indicates  in  the  case  of  modern  fishermen,  wlio 
reject  certain  tish  on  account  of  their  inferior  size 
{Foissons  ct  HeptUcs  du  lac.  cle  Tlb&riade,  p.  52), 
their  disagreeable  aspect  (ib.  pp.  32,  82),  or  their 
unpleasant  muddy  flavour  (ib.  pp.  35,  58,  64). 

11  li-lii  II  i.  II  'ouietimes  carried  on  their  trade 
in  I    I        !  i^  .still  the  case  at  the  present 

day.  Ill  I  Ml  men  of  Tiberias  form  a  Kind  of 
ciiipiiiiii  i-ii  w  II  ii  lixed  rules.  The  number  of  fish- 
ing vessels  uii  the  Lake  at  the  beginning  of  the 
Ckristian  era  must  have  been  very  considerable. 
Josephua  (BJ  II.  xxi.  8)  speaks  of  330  (v.l.  230) ; 
see  also  Mk  4**,  Jn  6^.  Forty  years  ago  Furrer 
found  only  a  single  boat ;  Lortet  saw  three  in  1875 
and  six  in  1880 ;  Frei  counted  nine  in  1886,  and 
the  present  writer  saw  the  same  number  in  1894, 
while  in  1899  he  noted  fourteen  ;  and  no  doubt  the 
number  has  increased  since  then. 

The  fishermen  made  use  of  nets.  One  of  the 
Greek  terms  employed  (Mt  13*')  is  aa-^ivri,  seine, 
'drag-net,'  a  large  net  which  two  or  more  boats 
arrange  in  a  circle  in  the  lake,  in  such  a  way  as  to 
enclose  a  vast  space  with  a  kind  of  vertical  wall. 
It  is  kept  stretclied  by  means  of  weights  and  floats. 
Then  the  two  extremities  are  brouglit  together, 
and  the  whole  with  its  contents  is  dragged  ashore. 
The  other  species  of  net  mentioned  in  tlie  Gospels 
(Mt  4'*)  is  the  emting  net  (aiJiipip\ri<rTpoi'),  whidi  a 
single  man  throws  with  a  skilful  turn  of  the  hand, 
and  which  is  of  circular  form,  like  an  umbrella. 
Once  it  has  been  plunged  in  the  water  it  is  drawn 
out  with  the  captured  fish.  This  is  stUl  tlie  method 
most  frequently  ])ursued  in  our  own  time.  The 
other  passages  where  nets  are  spoken  of  (Mt  4'-''"-, 
Mk  l'*'-,  Lk  5--^,  Jn  21''-")  use  the  general  term 
Slktvov,  which  might  be  applied  to  any  kind  of  net. 
Some  texts  speak  of  washing  and  of  mending  nets 
(Lk  5=,  Mt  4=\  Mk  119).    See  also  Nets. 

The  Gospels  only  once  mention  line  -  fishing, 
namely  in  Mt  17",  where  we  read  of  Peter  casting 
the  hook  {iyKKTrpoy),  which  Avas  certainly  placed 
at  the  end  of  a  cord  or  line,  but  we  cannot  say 
whether  the  latter  was  attached  to  a  rod  or  long 
reed  or  was  simply  held  in  the  hand.  In  the  NT 
there  is  no  mention  of  harpooning  fish  (contrast 
Job  41'  [He  40^']).  At  the  present  day  we  still 
meet  with  examples  of  this  practice. 

The  waters  of  the  Lake  of  Tiberias  are  exception- 
ally rich  in  fish,  especially  by  the  shore  of  el-Batiha 
(to  the  east  of  the  mouth  of  the  Jordan),  and  in  the 
bay  of  et-Tabigha.  Tlie.se  were  in  former  times 
the  fjivou'rite  grounds  of  fishermen,  and  these  spots 
are  still  preferred  by  them  in  our  own  day.  There, 
on  the  shore  of  el-Batiha  lay  Bethsaida- Julias ;  and, 
if  there  were  two  Betlisaidas  (a  much  controverted 
question  ;  see  artt.  BETHSAIDA  and  CAPERNAUM), 
tlie  second  was  at  et-Tabigha  or  in  its  A'icinity. 
Now  Bethsaida  means  'house  of  fish,'  'fishery.' 
It  was  the  native  town  of  Peter  and  Andrew,  of 
James  and  John, — all  four  fishermen, — as  well 
as  of  Philip,  whose  oicupatinn  is  unknown  to  u.s. 
According  to  Jn  21-  Tlionuis  and  Nathanael  (of 
Cana)  appear  also  to  have  been  fishermen,  at  least 
occasionally.  The  dress  of  the  lisliermen  was  more 
than  simple  ;  according  to  Jn  21'  Peter  was  yvfip6s, 
'  naked ' ;  it  is  not  quite  easy  to  see  why  so  many 
exegetes  maintain  that  this  term  does  not  imply 
complete  nudity.  It  is  certainly  most  natural  to 
suppose  that  Peter  had  discarded  all  his  clothes ; 
the  fact  that  he  afterwards  hastily  girds  on  his 
eirevSin-qs,    lit.     his    •  upper     garment,'     does     not 


FLAX 


lily   prove  that  lie  was  wearing  another 
under  it. 

The  tiah  of  the  Lake  of  Tiberias  have  been 
minutely  studied  and  described  by  two  experts, 
Dr.  Lortet,  dean  of  the  Faculty  of  Medicine  at 
Lyons,  and  Dr.  Tristram.  Out  of  39  (Lortet)  or 
43  (Tristram)  species  known  in  Palestine,  from  22 
to  24  are  found  in  the  Lake  of  Tiberias  and  its 
immediate  vicinity.  They  belong  to  a  number  of 
diH'erent  genera.  The  genus  Chromis  has  the 
richest  representation  of  species:  Nilvticiis,  Tiberi- 
adis,  A iii/rc(c,  Simonis, Microstomus, Flavii  Josephi, 
MagdaUnm ;  belonging  to  a  genus  near  of  kin  is 
Hemichromis  Sacra.  These  fish  are  the  most 
abundant  and  make  the  best  eating.  The  genus 
Barbus  is  also  extremely  prolific  ;  three  species  be- 
longing to  it  are  found  :  Canis,  which  swarms,  but 
is  little  appreciated ;  Lonr/iceps,  esteemed ;  and  Bed- 
domii,  rare.  Then,  in  the  family  of  the  Cijprlnidcs 
come  Discognathiis  Lamtii ;  fo\ir  species  of  Capceta : 
Syriaca,  Damaxriiiu,  Surinli.-;,  S'liinnpi ;  Liitviscus 
(01  Fhoxinelliis)  /. /v,/,' ;  . I //,«,■;; ",v '.v.VAi/ ;  Acan- 
thobrama  Ccntix^ininin  -.  tluv,.  si.ccirs  (.f  Nema- 
ehihis  :  Tigris,  Gaiilaiis,  Lroiiliiiir.  lu  the  family 
of  the  Blennides :  Blcnniiis  Varus  and  Blcnnius 
Lupuhis.  Finally,  in  the  family  of  the  Silurides 
we  have  the  strange  Clarias  3Iacracanthus,  already 
noted  by  Josephus  {BJ  III.  x.  8)  under  the  name 
KopaKii/os,  which,  in  spite  of  its  forbidding  aspect, 
supplies  an  article  of  food  not  to  be  disdained. 
This  fish  has  the  strange  peculiarity  that,  when  it 
is  withdrawn  from  its  natural  element,  it  utters 
cries  like  the  mewings  of  a  cat,  and  that  it  can 
live  for  several  days  out  of  the  water. 

A  considerable  number  of  the  above  species 
belong  properly  to  Palestine,  but  the  fauna  of 
Palestinian  fish  shows,  nevertheless,  a  close  con- 
nexion with  that  of  Africa  and  not  with  that  of 
the  Mediterranean  basin.  The  ancients,  e.g.  Jose- 
phus, had  already  noted  this  fact,  and  they  raised 
the  question  of  the  possibility  of  a  subterranean 
communication  between  the  waters  of  Egypt  and 
those  of  Palestine.     See  also  AxuiALS,  p.  60". 

Literature.  —  Bochart,  //,,-.,:,  i  ],,.  c  i-;  Lortet, 
Poissotis  et  Reptiles  du  liir  <■     ;  l   i  in-  same 


103  ;  Libbev  and  Hoskins,  Jordan  Vallm  ,i,ni  l;-ir,i.  i,ni;,,  \ol.  i. 
p.  130 f.;  G.  R.  Lees,  Villaffe  Lifr  !n  /'uA  ^„.,  I'uir,,  p.  5 
[with  photograph  of  two  fishermen  of  tlii'  l.akr  nt  LiKi  lias  cast- 
ing theirnets].  Lucii:\  eiAuriKR. 

FLAX.— See  Smoking  Flax. 

FLESH  ((xdpk). — In  every  instance  where  this 
word  is  used  by  the  Evangelists  we  observe  that  it 
is  confined  in  its  reference  to  the  human  race.  The 
same  remark,  it  may  be  noticed,  holds  good  of  the 
NT  writers  as  a  whole  (cf.,  however,  1  Co  15^',  and 
the  plural  c7dp«ra!  of  Rev  19"*).  Tlie  particular  con- 
ception attaching  to  it  varies  in  ditterent  contexts 
to  a  slight  extent,  though  in  almost  every  case  a 
distinction  or  contrast  is  either  stated  or  implied 
which  has  its  roots  in  OT  thouyht .  It  i^  interest- 
ing to  remark  that  this  is  a  wm,!  riii|il,.v,M  very 
rarely  by  St.  Luke  in  either  of  his  Hiiiiii-s:  and 
even  when  he  does  use  it,  we  iliid  thai,  ior  the 
most  part,  he  is  quoting  from  the  OT  (see  Lk  3"  = 
Is  40^  [LXX],  where  in  conjunction  with  Tracra  it  is 
simply  a  synonym  for  all  mankind  ;  cf.  Mt  24=-,  Mk 
13-»,  Jn  17-,  and  Ac  2").  The  reference,  of  course, 
is  to  the  human  race  in  its  present  condition  of 
weakness  and  need  of  help,  as  contrasted  with  the 
power  and  the  active  love  of  God  (cf.  Dt  G™,  Ps 
Se"  [55=  LXX]). 

In  the  only  other  place  where  the  word  is  found 
in  St  Luke's  Gospel  (24=")  we  have  it  used  simply 
to  denote  the  substance  flesh  considered  as  a  con- 


stituent of  tlie  luiman  body. 
represent  ed  us  iii\  iting  His  disciples  to  assure  tliem- 
selve,^  l.y  teiirhiiig  Him  that  He  had  risen  not 
merely  in  ,1,  spiritual,  but  in  a  corporeal  .sense.  The 
antithesis  is  tliut  of  'spirit'  and  'body'  [mO/ia 
and  o-w^a),  tlie  latter  consisting  of  'flesh'  and 
'  bones '  (adpi  and  oarU).    See  art.  Body. 

A  still  more  emphatic  expression  signifying  the 
distinction  between  man  and  God  is  found  in  St. 
Matthew's  Gospel  (16"),  where  adp^  is  joined  with 
alfia  to  denote  man  in  his  present  condition  of 
spiritual  limitation  and  of  defective  knowledge.  A 
somewhat  similar  antithesis  is  incidentally,  albeit 
elaborately,  pointed  out  by  St.  John  (1'^),  who,  in 
his  reference  to  the  new  life  communicated  through 
Christ  to  believers,  lays  stress  on  the  fact  that  this 
higher  life  is  not  the  result  of  human  birth,  whether 
the  latter  be  considered  as  the  outcome  of  a  long 
line  of  descent  (^f  alfj.dTup},  or  as  springing  from 
natural  instinct  inherent  in  the  flesh  {^k  0(\ri/j.aToi 
aapK6s),  or  even  as  the  resultant  of  the  will  power 
resident  in  the  entire  man  {iK  $e\ri/j.aTos  duSpdi). 
Their  infused  life  has  its  roots  in  Him  who  is  the 
source  of  all  life  (.  .  .  dXX'  iK  8eoS  eyan'rie-qaav),  and 
is  conditioned  in  every  instance  by  their  reception 
of  the  Word  made  flesh  (oo-oi  5^  i\a§or  airbv,  see 
Westcott,  Gospel  of  St.  John,  ad  loc.,  who  notices  a 
very  early  variant  reading  which  would  make  '  the 
Word'  the  subject  of  the  whole  verse). 

Another  form  of  tliis  antithetic  relationship 
occurs  in  the  same  writing.  In  His  conversation 
with  Nicodemus  Jesus  draws  attention  to  the 
limitations  which  surround  the  functions  of  man's 
nature  considered  on  its  sensuous  side  {iK  riji 
<rapK6s),  and  those  of  the  Spirit  Avhich  finds  scope 
for  activity  within  another  sphere  of  human  life 
{iK  ToO  irpeiifiaTos).  It  is  not  the  antithesis  of  evil 
and  good  that  is  here  referred  to.  It  is  simply  that 
within  the  realm  of  man's  being  there  are  two 
principles  of  energy  which  take  their  origin  from 
two  orders  of  existence.  The  law  of  nature  which 
compels  like  to  produce  like  holds  good  in  man's 
complex  life,  and  so  '  What  is  born  of  the  flesh  is 
flesh,  and  what  is  Ijoiii  of  the  Spirit  is  spirit'  (Jn 
3").  With  this  we  m.iy  e'.iii[i,ii.-  unother  passage 
in  the  same  Gospel  win  lu  tlii-.  idra  is  expressed  in 
language  more  explicit  still  :uiil  as  emphatic  (Jn 
6*^).  The  contrast  here  Ijetwecii  spirit,  which  not 
only  has  life  in  itself  but  can  communicate  that 
life  as  it  wills  {rd  fwoTroiow),  and  flesh,  which  '  is  of 
no  avail'  above  its  own  sphere  (7;  aap^  ovk  u0fXei 
oidii'),  is  categorically  asserted. 

So,  too,  on  another  occasion  when  engaged  in  con- 
troversy with  the  Pharisees,  Jesus  contrasts  their 
method  of  judging  with  His  own  patience  in  that 
respect,  and  in  so  doing  implies  a  further  contrast 
— their  imperfect  and  tlierefore  incorrect  judgment 
{Kara.  tt]p  a-dpKa)  which  is  based  on  a  superficial 
knowledge,  and  His  just  judgment  which  comes 
from  His  '  knowledge  of  all  the  circumstances,  and 
aspects,  and  issues  of  life'  (^  Kplns  ii  i/xri  oKrjSivii 
iariv,  Jn  8"^'-;  see  Westcott,  Gospel  of  St.  John, 
ad  loc. ). 

Arising  out  of  this  conception  we  have  the  word 
employed  to  mark  a  psychological  distinction  be- 
tween man's  flesh  and  spirit.  So  real  was  this  dis- 
tinction to  the  mind  of  Jesus  that  we  can  almost 
hear  in  His  words  (Mt  26J'  =  Mk  W)  the  echo  of 
personal  experience  (.  .  .  yp-qyopriaai.  /xer'  iij.ov  .  .  . 
t6  fih  TTvevna  TrpdOvfj-of  ?')  di  adpi  d(T6>e^'7)s).  In  this 
place  we  may  nlso  notiee  I  hat  there  was  sdiiietliiii^; 
present  in  the  -1  rr.L-jle  ,irja;jeil  in  l>y  tli^'  ili-eiplr- 
which  was  ali-eiil  in  1  he  ra>e  iif  .l.'sns.  '['Iiey  Mere 
unsuccessful  in  their  ellorts  to  ■  watih,'  b'eean-e 
not  only  was  their  flesh  'weak,'  hut  it  had  also 
to  contend  with  an  element  of  discord  which  further 
distracted  their  power  for  unremitting  watchful- 
ness.    With  Him  was  also  present  the  flesh   of 


coo 


FLESH 


FLIGHT 


weakness  (see  2  Co  13'  t'J  aaOcveia^),  but  the  rela- 
tionsbii)  between  His  aipi  ami  wvev/ia  was  not 
perverted  by  the  indwelling  presence  of  sin,  or  by 
the  downward  tendency  inherited  as  tlie  result  of 
sin. 

On  one  occasion  Jesus  quotes  with  approval  the 
translation  of  the  LXX  (Gn  2-')  where  the  word 
(Topf  occurs  meaning  the  entire  man  (Mt  19"'-  =Mk 
10"*),  and  that  without  any  qualifying  word.  It 
would  be  a  colourless  interpretation  of  Jesus'  words 
which  would  limit  His  teaching  on  the  marriage 
relationship  to  a  physical  oneness  following  on  and 
produced  by  the  sexual  union.  The  Hebraistic 
(aovrai.  (h  (Heb.  ^  vni)  implies  a  gradual  movement 
from  a  physical  union  to  a  higher  and  more  com- 
plex unity,  so  that  where  two  separate  beings 
formerly  existed  there  is  now  but  one  (lio-T-f  ouk^ti 
(liriv  Svo,  o'XXa  ffdpj  fila,  which  is  Jesus'  inference 
from  the  Heb.  -^n^y^h;  see  art.  Eunuch).  It  is 
because  of  the  ultimately  complete  and  spiritual 
character  of  this  union  that  the  sin  which  dis- 
solves it  and  the  human  legislation  which  seeks 
to  render  it  nugatory  assume  their  dark  propor- 
tions (cf.  Gould,  '  St.  Mark  '  in  Intcrnat.  Crit.  Com. 
on  Mk  10»'-). 

Passing  from  the  Sj'noptic  to  the  Johannine  use 
of  this  word,  we  find  it  clothing  conceptions  which 
are  fuller  and  richer.  In  the  simple  but  majestic 
sentence  in  which  he  announces  the  profound 
mystery  of  the  Incarnation,  St.  John  employs  the 
word  '  flesh '  to  express  the  totality  of  human 
nature,  looked  at  on  the  side  of  its  manifold 
limitations,  that  is  to  say,  as  it  touches  and  is 
connected  with  the  world  of  matter  anil  of  time 
(6  X670S  aap^  i-yii/ero,  Jn  l",  with  which  we  may 
compare  the  positive  references  to  '  the  soul '  and 
'  the  spirit '  of  Jesus  in  the  same  writing,  e.g.  12^ 
■i)  ipvxh  A""'>  13-'  T(^  -iryevfian,  etc.).  The  phrase  '  the 
Word  "became  flesh '  implies  the  existence  of  an 
antithesis  which  has  been  reduced  in  its  elements 
to  a  final  and  permanent  synthesis.  The  Johannine 
conception  leaves  no  room  for  doubt  as  to  the  per- 
fection of  the  human  nature  of  Jesus,  which  is 
universal  both  as  regards  time  and  race. 

Keeping  in  mind  this  usage,  we  shall  be  enabled 
to  apprehend  more  fully  the  thought  underlying 
the  language  of  Jesus  about  His  power  of  impart- 
ing Himself  in  His  perfect  humanity  (cf.  Jn  6^'-^). 
His  '  flesh,'  by  virtue  of  its  union  with  His  Divine 
Personality,  is  '  living '  (6  fiif)  food,  and  therefore 
possesses  tlie  power  of  communicating  its  life  to  all 
who  will  eat  tliereof  {4av  /xri  tpayiiTe  ttiv  cripKa,  k.t.\.  ). 
Without  this  participation  and  consequent  assimi- 
lation on  the  part  of  His  followers,  there  can  be  no 
such  thing  as  '  life'  within  them,  for  they  deliber- 
ately reject  what  contains  for  them  the  germinal 
principle  of  that  '  life '  {ovk  ?x""e  fwijv  ^v  eoiTois). 

The  question  may  be  asked  whether  it  is  possible 
to  trace  any  likeness  or  fundamental  connexion 
between  the  Gospel  and  the  Pauline  uses  of  <7d/){. 
In  St.  Paul's  writings  very  marked  emphasis  is 
laid  upon  this  word,  and  for  him  it  clothes  a  con- 
ception rich  with  ethical  signiHeance.  The  '  flesh ' 
is  the  present  abode  of  sin,  which  requires  an  obedi- 
ent subject  to  execute  its  behests.  So  closely  does 
he  connect  the  jiower  of  sin  with  the  existing  weak- 
ness of  the  flesh  that  he  does  not  hesitate  to  say 
from  his  own  experience  '  I  know  that  in  .  .  .  my 
flesh  dwelled!  no  good  thing'  (Ro  7").  At  the 
same  time,  he  is  careful  to  point  out  that  this  is  not 
the  state  appointed  for  man  by  God.  The  '  cruci- 
fixion '  of  the  flesh  is  possible  for  every  man  who 
wills  to  walk  not  'according  to  the  flesh'  but 
'  according  to  the  Spirit '  (ol  .  .  .  rriv  adpKaeaTavpd]- 
aav,  (C.T.X.,  Gal  S^-,  cf.  Ko  8«-),  and  those  who  have 
the  indwelling  presence  of  the  Spirit  are  no  longer 
in  the  flesh  (iv  aapKl)  but  in  the  Spirit  (if  irptifian, 
Ro  8').      With  these  we  may  conii)are  such  exjires 


sions  as  '  the  mind  of  the  flesh '  ((ppSyrj/ia,  rrji  cropK6s) 
and  '  the  mind  of  the  Spirit'  ((t>p6vri/i.a  tou  irpfviiaroi, 
Ro  8'^ ;  iiwi  TOU  voJs  ttjs  ffapxis,  Col  2"),  from  which  we 
can  gather  how  present  to  St.  Paul's  mind  was  the 
connexion  betAveen  sin  and  the  flesh,  and  at  the 
same  time  how  strong  within  him  was  the  glorious 
hope  that  such  connexion  in  the  ultimate  result 
was  abnormal  and  destined  for  destruction.  There 
is  no  sign  in  the  Pauline  terminology  that  he  was 
influenced  in  his  theological  conceptions  by  the 
spirit  of  that  Greek  dualism  which  womied  its  way 
into  subsequent  Christian  thought  with  lasting  and 
for  the  most  part  evil  consequences  (see  Miiller, 
Christian  Doct.  of  Sin,  i.  320  fl'.). 

The  redemption  and  the  quickening  of  the 
body  (.  .  .  TT]v  CLTToXiTpioatv  TovawfiaTOSfHo  8^  ;  .  .  . 
fa)07roii)<rei  to.  flvijra  ffJifxara,  Ro  8"  ;  cf.  6'-,  2  Co  4") 
are  features  essential  to  the  scheme  of  salvation  as 
outlined  and  sj^steniatized  by  St.  Paul.  The  con- 
demnation of  sin  '  in  the  flesh '  by  God,  who  for 
this  purpose  sent  His  Son  '  in  the  likeness  of  the 
flesh  of  sin '  (Ro  8^),  is  evidence  that  there  is,  for 
him,  no  naturally  essential  connexion  between  the 
flesh  and  evil. 

We  are  not  without  signs  that  this  is  just  the 
point  of  view  from  which  the  Evangelists  looked  at 
this  question  (cf.  Jn  1"  17",  Lk3«  ll"  =  Mt6-'=),  .and 
that  neither  thej-  nor  the  Apostle  of  the  Gentiles 
were  touched  by  that  false  belief  which  identified 
sin  with  matter,  and,  therefore,  with  '  the  body  of 
the  flesh '  (cf.  Col  1'--  2").  Tlie  anthropology  of 
the  Gospels,  as  well  as  the  psychological  concep- 
tions which  emerge  but  rarely  and  incidentally 
from  their  pages,  are  essentially  Hebrew,  and  are 
never  stained  by  the  potential  immoralities  which 
characterized  the  later  Alexandrian  and  Hellenistic 
theology. 

Literature.— Stevens,  The  Theolwiy  of  the  XT,  pp.  189  f., 


Bible  Doctrine  of  JIan,a.ni  bis  :\rlt      \  .ml  '  Flesh  ■ 

in  Hastings'  DB;  Weiss,  Bibliral  I  .\  r,  §  27; 

Cremer,  Bibt.-Theol.  Lex.  of  XT  dr.     , 

J.  K.  Willis. 
FLIGHT.— The  story  of  the  flight  of  the  Holy 
Family  into  Egj'pt  is  peculiar  to  the  First  Gospel 
(Mt  2'^''^-)-  The  omission  of  it,  and  also  of  the 
manifest<ation  to  the  Gentiles  (Mt  2'-'-),  from  the 
Tliird  Gospel  is  surprising,  since  there  rather  than 
in  Mt.  we  should  have  expected  to  find  any  story 
that  brought  Jesus  into  contact  with  the  Gentile 
world.  The  surprise  would  deepen  into  suspicion 
were  it  not  that  the  records  of  the  Evangelists  are 
so  f  ragmentarj' ;  but  that  fact  instantly  relieves  the 
strain. 

O.  Holtzmann,  who  cites  the  well-linown  omission  in  Ac  919-2C 
of  anv  reference  to  St.  Paul's  journey  to  Arabia  (Gal  1"), 
frankly  states  that  '  the  author  who  left  out  this  journey  of 
Paul  to  Arabia  might  well  pass  over,  in  his  other  account,  the 
■    "      ■■    ■   ■'-'• --J '>--'':■-■,  had  m 


absolute]  V  abov_  .    _ 

difficult  to  get  over  the  gap  in  the  narrative  of  Luke '  {Life  of 
Jesm,  p.  85). 

The  silence  of  St.  Luke  does  not,  then,  discredit 
the  narrative  of  St.  Matthew.  But  their  records 
might  prove  to  be  mutually  exclusive,  so  that 
acceptance  of  the  one  would  involve  rejection  of 
the  other.  How  stand  tlu-  f:i.ls?  According  to 
the  Third  Gospel,  Na/.m-U,  uas,  prior  to  their 
marriage,  the  hoiur  l"iili  "i  .l.i-i'i.li  and  of  Mary 
(Lk  2'' 1=*),  whereas  St.  .Muttlirw  (2°')  first  associ- 
ates them  with  Nazareth  after  tlieir  return  from 
Egypt,  and  gives  no  hint  of  any  previous  residence 
there.  Further,  St.  Matthew,  having  told  the 
storj'  of  the  Nativity  (I'^'^s),  goes  on  to  record  the 
visit  of  the  Magi  (2'"'-),  the  huiTied  flight  from 
Bethlehem  and  the  sojourn  in  E<;ypt  (2""'-),  whereas 
St.  Luke  records  merely  the  circumcision  of^the 
child  (2'-')  and  His  presentation  to  the  Lord  (2""), 
and  then  adds  that  '  when  they  had  p-rformed  all 


I 


FLIGHT 


601 


if  the  Lord,  they  re- 
iiwii  city  Nazareth' 
(93»).     From  those  wonls  ,.iii'  \\..uM  naturally  infer 

that  the  return  took  jiI.mc  i icdiately  after  the 

events  thus  recorded,  ami  that  mi  mimi  was  left 
for  the  episodes  of  the  First  (iospel.  Is  that  infer- 
ence necessary,  or  even  well  founded  ?  If  the  nar- 
rative of  Acts  must  be  so  adjusted  as  to  take  in 
the  sojourn  of  St.  Paul  in  Arabia,  he  would  be  a 
bold  critic  who  would  maintain  that  the  terms  of 
the  other  narrative  inevitably  exclude  the  sojourn 
in  Egypt.  It  is  to  be  noted  also  that  the  time- 
table of  the  First  Gospel  is  sufficiently  elastic  to 
embrace  easily  the  events  recorded  in  the  Third. 
For  we  lind  there  that,  '  according  to  the  time 
•which  he  had  carefully  learned  of  the  wise  men,' 
Herod's  inhuman  edict  included  all  the  children  in 
Bethlehem  'from  tivo  years  old  and  under'  (Mt 
218). 

"The  difficulty,  therefore,  is  not  one  of  chron- 


clog 


Even  if 


ogy.     Even  i 

36  both  point 

used  it,  except  < 

all,  born  in  l!et 

the  immediate 


sucli  an  objection  would 
u  the  hands  of  those  who 
(irv  tiiat  Jesus  was,  after 
I'or,  even  granting  that 
Nazareth  is  the  natural 


inference  from  St.  Luke's  account,  yet  the  force  of 
any  argument  based  upon  it  fails  the  very  moment 
that  Nazareth  and  not  Bethlehem  is  made  the 
scene  of  the  Nativity.  On  that  showing,  St.  Luke's 
story  is  itself  untrustworthy,  and  so  cannot  be  used 
to  di.seredit  another  story  which  is  inconsistent 
wth  it. 

The  real  difficulty  is  of  quite  a  difterent  sort :  it 
is  that  we  have  not  in  St.  ]\Iatthew  '  an  account 
absolutely  above  criticism.'  It  might  very  perti- 
nently be  asked  if  we  have  any  right  to  expect 
such  an  account.  Stories  of  the  childhood  of  a 
great  man  aie  never  written  while  he  is  still  a 
child,  but  only  after  he  has  achieved  greatness  ; 
and  even  then  tliey  arc  written,  not  necessarily 
because  of  their  (iwii  inlrin,-.ic  importance,  but  be- 
cause they  have  cau-lil  > >■  of  the  glory  of  the 

afterglow.  Nom-,  it.  was  n(jt  until  Jesus  bad 
already  won  His  place  in  the  hearts  of  men  that 
our  Gospels  were  written.  In  the  circumstances 
of  the  case,  therefore,  these  records  could  not  be 
other  than  fragmentary,  and  a  fragmentary  ac- 
count can  never  be  'absolutely  above  criticism.' 

But  presumably  the  special  criticism  to  which 
these  incidents  of  the  Infancy  lie  open,  is  that 
they  are  no  more  entitled  to  belief  tlian,  say,  those 
recorded  in  the  Apocryjihal  (;on|icIs.  The  Gospel 
of  the  Infancy,  c.f/.,  wea\  r^  .iiuuiid  (he  Flight  into 
Egypt  a" fantastic  garland  <.r  inii.i.lc  and  wonder. 
This  wreath  of  fairy  talcs  is  liy  ciiiiinion  consent 
stripped  off  and  lai'd  aside  as  uiihistorical  embel- 
lishment. Should  not  the  Flight  itself  be  laid  witli 
them  as  equally  unwortliy  of  credence  ?  The  ques- 
tion opens  up  a  subject  much  too  large  to  be  dis- 
cussed here.  But  one  may  at  least  ask  if  it  is  not 
too  drastic  a  measure  to  destroy  the  sliip  because 
one  has  had  to  remove  the  barnacles,  or  to  remove 
the  peg  teeause  a  worthless  coat  has  been  hung  on 
it.  Are  these  narratives  so  much  of  a  piece  that, 
if  we  reject  some  of  them,  we  must  reject  all? 
Surely  the  fact  is  not  without  significance  that  the 
Evangelist  preserves  the  story  of  the  Flight,  but 
records  none  of  the  marvels  that  have  clustered 
round  it.  For  if  these  other  stories  were  extant 
when  he  wrote,  he  must  have  been  cognizant  of 
them,  and  his  rejection  of  them  must  have  been 
deliberate.  On  the  other  hand,  if  they  were  of  a 
later  growth,  his  tradition  is  thereby  marked  as 
older  and,  to  that  extent,  more  trustworthy. 

But,  says  Keim  {Life  of  Jesus,  ii.  <I4),  -"il  bears 
all  the  marks  of  .a  poetic  picture.'  Istli^rc,  thm, 
no  poetry  in  real  life?  If  a  story  is  iMiilic,  is  ii 
thereby  'branded    as    unhjstorieal ?     'Intertwined 


with  the  narrative  is  a  nc 
revelation  by  an  angel,  aim 
thrift  of  heaven.'  The  objc 
in  the  case  of  a  story  writtei 


;  than  threefold 
".  mu.  h  tor  the 
^^..uM  be  valid 
iiudem  limes  by 
nf  its  f.irce  when 
is  written  by  an 


a  man  of  tlie  West,  but 

one  remt 

Oriental 

Much  more  a|.|i..sile  is  the  cuntention  that  'the 
enormous  toil  Mt  muIi  a  Jnurjiey  w  ith  a  little  child, 
was  such  as  only  legend,  aided  or  not  by  miracles, 
could  easily  get  over.'  The  toilsomeness  of  the 
journey  is  not  denied  ;  no  one  imagines  that  it  was 
'  easily  got  o\er.'  ilay  not  our  Lord's  own  words 
(Mt  Hi-",  Mk  13'^)  be  an  echo  of  the  hardshijjs 
Joseph  and  Mary  had  to  endure  in  bearing  Him  to 
a  place  of  refuge  ?  But  the  cogency  of  Keim's  argu- 
ment vanishes  when  we  remember  that  this  was  a 
flight  for  life  (see  Innocents).  In  sucli  circum- 
stances, hardships  are  little  accounted.  But  '  they 
might  have  found  a  nearer  refuge  among  the  Arabs 
of  the  south  or  west.'  Surely  this  criticism  is 
singularly  inept.  A  temijorary  and  brief  refuge 
might  thus  have  been  found,  but  no  one  knew  how 
long  it  would  be  ere  the  wanderers  could  safely 
return  to  their  own  land.  What  was  needed  was 
an  asylum  in  which  they  could  quietly  abide  till 
all  danger  was  past,  and  where  Joseph  could  find 
employment  which  would  enable  hini  to  provide 
for  his  household. 

Equally  beside  the  mark  is  the  attempt  to  ex- 
plain the  story  as  in  some  way  parallel  to  the 
sojourn  of  Moses  in  Egyjjt.  The  two  stories  are 
rich,  not  in  resemblance,  but  in  contra.st :  they 
have  absolutely  nothing  in  common  save  the  word 
'  Egypt.'  The  attempt  to  derive  the  one  from  tlie 
other  is  a  triumph  of  misdirected  ingenuity. 

Quite  as  little  avails  the  expedient  of  deducing 
the  narrative  from  the  prophecy  of  Hosea  (11'),  as 
O.  Holtzmann  would  evidently  do.  '  For  the  story 
about  the  Lord's  childhood  the  Gospel  of  Matthew 
seems  to  have  drawn  principally  upon  certain 
indications  in  the  Old  Testament'  {Life  of  Jesvs, 
p.  86).  One  can  readily  enough  understand  how  a 
Jewish  Christian  might  see  in  the  narrative  of  the 
Flight  a  richer  fulfilment  of  the  prophet's  words, 
but  It  is  almost  incredible  that  the  incident  should 
be  invented  as  a  commentary  on  the  words,  and 
all  the  more  so  when  the  words  in  question  are  not 
a  prophecy,  but  a  historical  reference.  Still  less 
credilile  does  the  suggestion  become  when  we  find 
that  we  should  require  to  believe  not  merely  that 
the  Flight  was  invented  to  explain  the  prophecy, 
but  further  that  the  Massacre  of  the  Innocents  had 
next  to  be  invented  to  explain  the  Flight,  and  the 
visit  of  the  Magi  to  explain  the  Massacre.  Accept- 
ance of  such  a  theory  involves  a  much  larger  draft 
on  one's  credulity  than  does  acceptance  of  the 
incident  itself  as  historical. 

The  question  may  still  arise.  What  motive  led 
the  Evangelist  to  record  this  event?  Need  we 
seek  for  any  motive?  He  wanted  to  tell  about 
Jesus :  would  it  not  be  enough  for  him  that  this 
was  a  story  of  the  childhood  of  the  loved  Master, 
and  that  he  believed  it  to  be  authentic  ? 

'  Egypt  has,  in  all  ages,  been  the  natural  place 
of  refuge  for  all  who  w  ere  driven  from  Palestine 
by  distress,  persecution,  or  discontent'  (Farrar, 
Life  of  Christ,  ch.  iv.).  It  need  create  no  surprise, 
therefore,  that  it  was  towards  Egypt  the  fugitives 
bent  their  steps.  There  they  would  be  without 
Herod's  jurisdiction  and  beyond  the  reach  of  his 
vengeance;  the  road  was  a' well-knowTi  one,  and 
some  three  days  would  suffice  to  liring  them  to  the 
frontier.  Of  the  incidents  of  the  journey  we  have 
no  reliable  infoi matiim,  imr  are  we  told  in  what 
l^art  id'  V.-2\\'l  the  wanderers  at  l.'ii;itlL  found  rest 
and  refuel'.  Tiadiiion  has  assigned  this  distinc- 
tion   to   Mataii.di  (the    ancient    Heliopolis),  whjch 


G02 


FLOCK,  FOLD 


FLUTE-PLAYERS 


lies  a  few  miles  north-east  from  Cairo  ;  and  there  is 
no  good  reason  why  the  tradition  may  not  be  cor- 
rect. It  is  known  that  in  that  neighbourhood  there 
was  a  considerable  Jewish  ixjpulation.  That  fact 
would  liave  undoubted  weight  with  Joseph,  as  it 
held  out  to  him  the  prospect  of  obtaining  suitable 
employment.  The  duration  of  the  sojourn  in  Egjpt 
lias  been  very  variously  stated,  some  reckoning  it 
a-s  having  extended  over  one,  two,  three,  or  even 
seven  years.  But  we  may  take  it  as  certain  that 
it  was  in  reality  very  brief,  seeing  the  death  of 
Herod  occurred  verj'  shortly  after  the  period  at 
which  the  Flight  must  have  taken  place.  See  also 
art.  Egypt. 


411  ; 


Bethlehem, 


)  less  than  of  the 


;  Holman  Hunt's  'Triumph  of  the  Innocents.' 

Hugh  Du.\c.\x. 

FLOCK,  FOLD.— For  a  general  treatment  of 
these  words  see  Sheep,  Shepherd.  But  it  may 
be  noted  here  that,  whereas  in  Jn  lO'- '''  we  find  in 
AV  'fold'  three  times  ('he  that  entereth  not  by 
the  door  into  the  sheep-/o^rf ' ;  and  '  other  sheep  I 
have  which  are  not  of  this  fold ;  them  also  I  must 
bring,  and  .  .  .  there  shall  be  one  fold  and  one 
shepherd '),  there  is  in  the  original  a  marked  dis- 
tinction. Two  words,  absolutely  unconnected  with 
each  other,  are  employed.  In  v.',  and  in  the  first 
clause  of  v.'*,  the  Greek  word  is  ai)\^=' enclosure,' 
'court,'  'fold,'  in  the  strict  sense.  It  is  the  word 
used  of  the  enclosed  court  of  the  high  priest's  palace 
(Mt  26^  Mk  U",  Lk  22^,  Jn  IS'''),  of  the  strong 
man's  palace  (Lk  11-'),  and  of  the  outer  eouit  of 
the  Temple  (Rev  11-).  In  using  tliis  word  our  Lord 
seems  to  refer  to  those  'walls  of  partition'  (cf. 
Eph  2")  which  sepiirated  the  .Jews  from  the  Gen- 
tiles and  madp  tliem  a  nation  by  themselves. 
Within  \\n~.  ^,^^^\^^  f,M  (ai>\^),  our  Lord  tells  us 
that,  at  I  lii'  tiiii'-  »  Inn  He  spoke,  He  had  a  number 
of  shuej'  wliu  wir.'  His  own  ;  and  also  that,  outside 
of  it,  aiiiung  the  Gentiles,  dark  and  miserable  as 
their  condition  wa-s,  He  had  other  sheep,  \\ho  were 
His  already,  and  were  known  to  Him,  even  if  they 
knew  it  not  themselves.  These,  too,  He  an- 
nounces, He  must  bring,  and  put  tliem  along  with 
His  Jewisli-bom  sheep:  'and,'  He  adds,  'there  shall 
be  one  flock  (He  uses  here  the  other  word  iroiiirq), 
one  shepherd.'  He  does  not  say  there  will  he 
'owe  fold'  (ou\^),  or,  indeed,  any  fold  at  all.  He 
has  unity  in  view  for  His  sheep — union ;  but  not 
such  as  is  to  be  secured  by  the  erection  round  His 
flock  of  such  outwardly-enclosing,  or  constraining 
'  walls  of  partition'  —  geogiaphical  or  racial — as 
had  hitherto  divided  nation  from  nation  and  .Jew 
from  Gentile.  The  union  whereof  He  speaks  is  to 
be  the  union  of  a  flock,  which  is  kept  together  on 
the  one  hand  by  its  own  instinct  of  gregariousness, 
or  the  mutual  affection  of  the  members,  and  on  the 
other  hand  by  its  common  subjection  to  its  'one 
Shepherd,'  who  loves  it,  died  for  it,  and  whom 
through  all  its  members  it  knows.  It  does  not, 
however,  follow  that  this  unity  is  not  a  visible 
unity.  The  unity  of  the  flock,  as  it  moves  along 
the  road  under  its  shepherd's  guidance,  is  just  as 
visible  to  the  beholder  as  the  unity  of  the  fold 
whose  white  walls  gleam  from  the  iiiilsich'.  "The 
difference  is  not  in  regard  to  the  visibility  of  the 
effect,  but  the  nature  of  the  unifying  bond.  The 
distinction  is  brought  out  in  RV. 

Jamics  Coopkr. 

FLOOD. — The  Flood  is  referred  to  only  in  Mt 
2438. 39  and  its  parallel  Lk  IT".  Jesus  is  speaking 
of  the  concealment  of  the  day  and  hour  of  tlie 
coming  of  the  Son  of  Man,  and  He  uses  the  Flood 
.as  an  illustration  wliich  would  be  well  known  to 
His  hearers.      Men  and  women  were  eating  and 


drinking,  marrying  and  giving  in  marriage,  until 
the  day  that  Noah  entered  the  ark ;  and  did  not 
know  until  the  Flood  came  and  took  them  all 
a«ay.  So  it  would  be  at  the  time  of  the  coming 
of  tiie  Son  of  Man.  Jesus  was,  at  the  time  of 
.speaking,  warning  men  of  His  coming,  and  the 
warning  was  intended,  doubtless,  to  be  sufhcient 
to  turn  them,  if  they  would  be  turned,  fi'om  tlieir 
evil.  The  emphasis  in  the  use  of  the  illustration 
is  upon  the  indifference  and  wickedness  of  the  ante- 
diluvians, as  paralleled  by  that  of  men  in  the  future 
who  would  not  receive  and  act  upon  the  warnings 
now  given.  The  Gospel  use,  then,  of  the  Flood  is, 
like  the  meaning  of  the  word  used  ()caTa/(Xi/ff/i(5s), 
neutral  as  to  the  important  questions  raised  by 
the  OT  story  of  the  Deluge.  See  art.  '  Flood '  in 
Hastings'  DB,  vol.  ii.  O.  H.  Gates. 

FLOWERS.— Palestine  has  a  flora  of  wonderful 
wealth  and  varietj'.  The  known  species  exceed 
three  thousand,  and  even  this  large  list  Ls  pro- 
bably far   from   complete.      But    numbers    alone 


the  most  remarkable  diversities  of  soil,  surface, 
and  climate.  As  is  the  land  so  is  its  flora,  which 
at  the  one  e.Ktreme,  amid  the  heights  of  Lebanon, 
is  Alpine  in  its  character,  and  at  the  other  ex- 
treme, in  the  gorge  of  the  Dead  Sea,  tropical. 

In  the  NT  there  are  very  few  references  to 
flowers,  and  these  are  of  the  most  general  char- 
acter (Ja  l'"- ",  I  P  1-').  In  the  Gospels  the  only 
mention  of  them  is  in  the  words  of  our  Lord,  '  Con- 
sider the  lilies  of  the  field '  (Mt  G-'J,  Lk  1'2'^).  It  is 
noteworthy  that  it  is  to  theii'  beauty  that  Christ 
appeals ;  elsewhere  in  the  NT  flowers  are  the 
emblem  of  frailty  and  evanescence.  But  in  spite  of 
the  comparative  infrequency  of  Scripture  allusions 
to  them  or  praise  of  tlieir  beauty,  the  Jews  were 
lovers  of   flow.K.     Tin-   is  attested  by  the  floral 

ornanientati u    tin'   woDdwork   of    the    oracle 

(lK6i«),  the  tniaiiiu  .IooimC'^),  and  the  pillars  of 
the  temple  i7-.  th-  l.nia  (,f  the  molten  sea  (7"'^), 
and  the  gol.l.u  .  .unll.  -tnk  (Ex  25^1-^).  From  the 
Mishna  we  1  irii  tli;it  at  the  Feast  of  Harvest 
(Ex  23")  the  liiM  '  i,,ii  ,,t  fruit  offered  at  the  altar 
was  decked  with  I1..«,ts  il'/ikkiiriiii,  ii.  3). 

Among  the  Ijeautitul  ll.iweis  of  Palestine  may 
be  mentioned  auenii>iie>.  eioeuses,  cyclamens, 
^l„f.l-".i,  hyacinths,  iri-es,  poi 
tulips. 

FLUTE  -  PLAYERS.— Flute-playing  is  referred 
to  twice  in  the  Gospels :  once  in  tlie  narrative  as 
an  expression  of  sorrow  (Mt  9^  auXijrds,  AV  '  min- 
strels,' RV  '  flute-players ') ;  and  once  in  tlie  Lord's 
teaching  as  an  expression  of  gladness  (rii\i]aati.ev 
Mt  11"  with  the  parallel  passage  Lk  7"'-  '  we  [have] 
piped  ').  The  latter  use,  which  is  referred  to  several 
times  in  the  OT  and  the  Apocrypha  ( 1  K  1**,  Is  o'-' 
30=9,  .Sir  40=1,  1  Mac  3«),  is  attested  for  the  later 
Jews  by  the  mention  in  the  Mishna  of  '  flutes  for 
a  bride'  (Baba  Mczia  vi.  1).  The  other  use,  the 
employment  of  flutes  for  mourning,  seems  to  Iiave 
been  widely  dittused  and  of  great  antiquity,  for  it 
is  clearly  alluded  to  by  Jeremiah  (48**) ;  and  can 
be  traced  over  a  large  part  of  the  Gentile  world — 
Phoenicians,  Carians,  Greeks,  Romans,  and  pro- 
bably Assyrians.  In  Greek  society  (or  at  least 
some  sections  of  it)  the  custom  was  so  general  that 
the  flute-player  at  funerals  was  described  by  a 
special  term  (T-uw/Sat-XTjs  .-Elian.  Var.  Hist.  xii.  43). 
For  tlie  Jewish  life  of  the  1st  and  2nd  cents.  A.D. 
there  is  aiiiple  evidence  in  the  Mishna  and  else- 
where. •Flutes  for  a  cor])se'  are  mentioned  in 
Il"h.,  M.y,f,  vi.  1,  and  in  Kethuboth  iv.  4  is  the 
often  eiteil  rule  that  a  man  who  had  lost  his  wife 
must  engage,   no  matter   how  poor    he  might   be, 


FOAmNG 


FOLLOWING 


GO,-? 


not  fewer  than  two  Hute-players  and  one  wailing 
woman.  A  remarkable  liistorical  illustration  is 
supplied  by  Josephus  (liJ  III.  ix.  .')).  When  the 
news  of  the  capture  of  .jotapata  liy  tlie  Romans  in 
the  summer  of  67  A.u.  reached  Jerusalem,  '  most 
people  engaged  flute-players  to  lead  their  lamenta- 
tions.' Another  illustration  comes  from  Koman 
histoiy.  At  the  funeral  of  the  Emperor  Claudius 
in  54  A.D.  there  were  flute-players  in  the  proces- 
sion. These  funeral  musicians  seem  to  have  been 
generally,  if  not  always,  professionals,  and  to  have 
been  held  in  very  low  esteem.  The  class  seem.s  to 
be  unknown  to  modern  Syrian  society.  The  wail- 
ing woman  remains,  but  the  funeral  flautist  has 
gone  (Bauer,  VoUcslebcn  hn  Lande  der  Bibel,  1903, 
p.  213). 

LiTBRATUBE.— Note  of  Wetstcui  on  yv    •":  "         !        \   .. 
Beitrdge  zur  Erlduteruiig  der  Hvantii/ 
Midrasch,  p.  12S ;  Levy,  Chalddischcs  II  ii 

•  Music 'in  Hastings' Z)B  iii.  4fil.      \V.  '1' \  i  Iwi;   S\|I1I1. 

FOAMING.— See  Epilepsy. 

FOLD.— See  Elock. 

FOLLOWING.—'  Eollow  '  represents  several  Gr. 
words  which  it  is  desirable  to  distinguish  as  far  as 
possible. 

1.  Most  frequently.  «A^''./"  "      w  i 'i  ^1  •- r  .    <■ ■      ,  l.k 

i9ip;  CAm(,  except  Mt  i)^-', -MK '•■  'iii    \>i'      i     ii'ii-'. 


kct.  ixoX.  in  the  two  tuniicr,  proljably  a -  lli-    more 

usual  fonn).    6.  hiuy,:-,  JuUow  after  {[,]•:  17  '  \\  in  a 

good  sense  of  tliose  in  .search  of  one.     7.  ■'i,lo 

pursue  closely,  'the  xxtm  gives  tlie  IJ  >  ,  li  :  \'  '  .-l<iit 
search,  as  in  our  'hunt  down'  (GonM).      S.  -   u-ou, 

'  come  .ve  after  me,' Mt  4i»  (.\V  •  follow") ;  if.  .\lk  I'v. 

That  great  multitudes  followed  Jesus  durini,' 
His  ministry  is  repeatedly  noted  ;  cf.  j\lt  4-^  8'  20-" 
2I»,  Mk  5=^  Lk  23"  (see  ('Rown.  Multitude); 
piiblicans  and  sinners  also  (y^KoXovBovv ,  KB,  Vulg. 
Mk  2'',  cf.  Lk  15>).  'Eollow  me'  (aKoXoiSei.  fjLoi] 
was  His  call  to  discipleship,  Mt  ',)"  ;|  Lk  9=",  Jn  l''^  ; 
deCpo  aKoKoidu  /ioi  (Lk  18--  !l)  and  SevTf  dtrltro)  ixov  (Mt 
4'"  II)  al.so  occur.  The  command  would  he  at  once 
understood  in  this  sense,  for  '  it  was  not  only  the 
practice  of  the  Rabbis,  but  regarded  as  one  of  the 
most  sacred  duties  for  a  Master  to  gather  around 
him  a  circle  of  disciples'  (Edersheim,  Life  and 
Times,  i.  474).  Hence  '  following '  was  a  mark 
of  belonging  to  the  band  of  disciples  (Mk  9-»  ||). 
Atflrst  ft  iniojit  s(><>m  to  iini.ly  .mly  '((.iiif  with 
me  on   thi^   jimnu-v'  (cf.  .hi  !■■'■  "1.  iml    ■jkhIiimHv 

they  Ic-inicl  Ih.-it  'ii    mcaiil    .■il.niMh.i nl    ol    |,i-,.- 

vious  occuiintioiis  (Ml  -1-"  ii^'i  .-unl  .lulic^  (.Ml  s--), 
and  possildy  the  iIc.h-cnI  tii-~  ( l.lc  I4="),  as  well  as  a 
participation  in  dimcr.,  .iii.l  even  deatli  (Mt  10='- 
^'■,  Jn  16=).  Such  :,ii  iiilciiMlicd  meaning  of  fol- 
lowing is  seen  in  tlu-  case  of  Peter  (Jn  l^"'-,  Mt 
4'»,  Jn  2119).  The  call  of  Jesus  diifered  from  tliat 
of  other  teachers  in  that  He  did  not  simply  invite, 
but  commanded  obedience  as  One  who  'liad  the 
right,  and  as  if  they  liteially  belonged  to  Himself  ; 
the  most  peremptory  claims  to  rule  over  the  attec- 
tions  and  wills  of  men  are  found  in  Mt.  and  Lk. 
rather  than  in  Jn.,  and  can  be  exiilained  only  by 
His  being  the  sujjreme  Lord  of  life  (Lidtlon). 
Eurthrv,    the   .lis,-i,il,.s   f,,ll,,xv.-a    lliin    nol    nicvlv 


.I..CH- 


(-M 


■~,  .Ml 


vidly 


the  manner  of  following  on  the  last  journey  to 
Jerusalem. 

The  literal  meaning  tends  to  merge  partly  or 
wholly  into  tlie  metaphorical  sense  of  conforming 
ti>  the  example  of  Jesus  in  living,  and  also,  if  neeii 
be,  in  dying ;  cf.  Mt  IG^  ||  16-*.  Jn  8'=  12-"-  IS"'. 
1  1>  2-1  ('follow  his  steps'),  Rev  14''.  The  two 
meanings  seem  combined  in  Jn  21'"-™.  V.-"  im- 
plies that  Jesus  moved  away,  inviting  Peter  to 
follow  along  the  rough  shore  perhaps  for  private 
conversation  ;  and  John  though  iminvited  also  fol- 
lowed. But  there  is  probably  a  reference  also  to 
Jn  13^"  ;  and  the  action  of  Peter  was  symbolical  of 
that  obedient  following  in  the  rugged  path  of 
Christian  duty,  in  the  work  of  the  Apostolic 
ministry  (Chrys.),  in  the  way  of  martyrdom 
(Mcycij,  which  Mould  lead  to  particiiiation  in  His 
M;i-(i  IS  L^lciy  [-j'i-  (iodet's  note).  Tliis  command 
.lilicivil  hoiii  the  >i)iiilar command  given  before  the 
Kc-uncilii.ii,  says  Westcott,  because  'it  now  re- 
c|uired  further  the  percei)tion  of  His  course  ;  the 
spiritual  discernment  by  which  His  movements 
can  still  be  discovered  ;  and  yet,  further,  the  readi- 
ness to  accept  martyrdom  as  the  end.' 

Lk  9S"-  =  Mt  S'"'-  is  important.  All  three 
aspirants  for  admission  into  the  inner  circle  seem 
to  have  been  already  disciples,  cf.  Mt  8=',  the  use 
of  '  Master '  and  '  Lord,'  and  the  work  contem- 
plated (Lk  9""-  '•-).  Probably  the  appointment  of 
the  Seventy  was  in  view  (Lk  10'),  or  less  likely,  of 
the  Twelve  (so  Trench,  comparing  Mt  10',  which, 
li(iw('\  cr,  docs  nut  apply  to  the  chooning,  but  to 
I  lie  ,./,<./  iiiit  of  the  Apostles).  These  were 
t  I  I  :i  SCI  ilic  ids  ypafinaTei'is,  Mt.),  wlio  came  saying, 
Ahi-ici,  I  will  follow  thee  whithersoever  thou 
goest.'  He  meant,  perhaps,  'to  the  end  of  the 
journey,  wherever  it  might  be,  not  aware  of  the 
continual  wandering  life  led  l)y  Jesus'  (Wendt, 
Teaching  uf  Jesus,  ii.  69)  ;  but  he  \\as  warned 
of  the  utter  hoinele.ssness  of  the  Son  of  Man, 
and  was  shown  the  necessity  of  counting  the  co.st 
(cf.  Lk  14:-^'-).  (2)  Another  was  called  to  follow, 
and  professed  readiness  to  obey  but  alleged  a 
hindrance :  '  Lord,  sufter  me  first  to  go  and  bury 
my  father.'  The  words  'go  and  bury'  (aire\ff6i>Ti 
Ba^ai),  and  'leave  the  dead,'  RV  (ij^es  rout 
veKpovi),  naturally  imply,  and  are  usually  taken 
to  mean,  that  his  fatlier  was  then  lying  dead 
(so  early  Eathers,  Alford,  Trench,  Godet,  Eder- 
sheim, etc.).  It  was  a  son's  most  sacred  duty  to 
perform  the  last  offices,  but  this  was  one  of  the 
cases  where  the  Call  must  take  precedence  of  all 
else.  His  going  might  involve  a  delay  of  seven 
days  (the  period  of  pollution,  Nu  19'''-),  during 
which  good  impressions  might  be  dulled  ;  and 
Jesus  would  have  left  the  district  whither,  taking 
Lk.'s  order.  He  was  not  to  return.  This  man,  too, 
was  being  called  to  active  work  for  Goil  ;  cf.  regu- 
lations in  Lv  21",  Nu  6'.  But  some  later  coni- 
iiiciitators,  as  Theophylact,  .suppose  that  the  father 
w  ,is  si  III  alive  though  weak  and  frail,  and  that  the 
son  wished  to  remain  with  him  until  his  death. 
Thus  the  seeming  harshness  of  Christ'  s  reply 
would  be  mitigated  ;  and  it  is  pointed  out  that 
as  the  burial  usually  took  place  on  the  day  of 
death,  it  was  unlikely  that  tbe  man  would  leave 
his  hoiiie  (luring  the"iiitei\al  between  these  two 
events.      Wendt    (e/i.   <'it.   \>.   Till  ipmles  .a  striking 

vised  by  a  niissionaiy  in  Syria  lo  make  a  tour 
of  Europe,  .and  answered,  '  I  must  first  of  all 
bury  my  father.'  The  missionary  expressed  sur- 
prise at  the  news  of  his  death,  as  he  had 
hitherto  been  in  good  health  ;  but  the  young 
in.iii  explained  th.at  lie  only  meant  that  one 
must  hetoie  all  things  devote  himself  to  the 
dniies  owed  to  relatives.  Jesus  did  not  recognize 
such  .luties  as  suflicient  to  justify  delay  in  preach- 


C04 


FOOP 


FOOLISHXESS 


ing  the  gospel.  Clem.  Alex,  adopted  a  tradition 
that  this  man  was  Philip  (roO  Knpiou  Xiyovros  T<fi 
*i\Ijr7rif),  &<jies  roiis  pcKpovs,  k.t.X.,  Strom,  iii.  4.  50,  51, 
^ligne)  ;  if  true,  it  may  be  taken  as  an  admoni- 
tion occasioned  hy  some  slackness  or  symptom  of 
decadence  on  the  part  of  the  Apostle  (Alf.).  (3)  A 
third  offered  to  follow,  but  wished  first  to  say 
farewell  to  his  relatives :  he  showed  a  divided 
affection ;  apparently,  therefore,  his  request  in- 
volved special  danger.  A  saying  of  farewell  (dTro- 
TaaaeaBm)  in  quite  a  different  sense  was  necessary 
(Lk  14**).  Augustine  says  of  these  three  :  'obtulit 
se  unus  ut  eum  sequeretur  et  reprobatus  est,  alius 
non  audebat  et  excitatus  est,  tertius  differebat  et 
culpatus  est.'  Edersheim  sums  up  the  three  vital 
conditions  of  following  as  here  illustrated  :  (a)  alj- 
solute  self-denial  and  homelessness  in  the  world  ; 
(b)  immediate  and  entire  self-sunender  to  Christ 
and  His  work ;  (c)  a  heart  and  affections  simple, 
undivided,  and  set  on  Christ  and  His  work,  to 
which  there  is  no  other  trial  of  parting  like  that 
which  would  involve  parting  from  Him.  no  other 
or  higher  joy  than  that  of  fullowiu'^  Him  (Life  and 
Times,  ii.  134). 

For  the  result  and  rewards  of  following  see  Jn 
8>=,  Mt  Iff--"-  II. 

LiTEBATl-RE.— Ciemer.     nib.-Tlmd.    Lfx.    .«.r.    Ua^U^iu^;  art. 

'  Fullnw '  ill  jhi>iiii-~'  /'/.';  'I'l-.  [1.  h,  .^■..o,^-  in  the  Gospels 
(N"-  ':;",/  ,'  ,,.  7U:  Liddon,  TAe 
ill!'"  ■  /  ,  I  I,  .  ,  ;  :  Ii,  Life  and  Times 
of. I,-  i;.       ■I..,,,:,,,:,!.-  let.  Westcott,  etc.; 

Brilre,     Ku:J:!:,n     vj      Lr,.>,     y.     l-L,      J..-         <(../■,     IV.     iv.     [1S91] 

-**'ff-  W.  H.  DUNDAS. 

FOOD. — While  this  word  does  not  occur  in  AV 
in  the  Gospels,  the  Greek  words  /Spii^a  (Alt  14'^, 
Ilk  7'^  Lk  3"  9'^  and  Jn  i^)  and  /3p<S<r.s  ( Jn  4«  and 
(J27. 55)^  rendered  '  meat,'  would  be  in  each  case  better 
rendered  '  food.'  The  first  word,  ^pQ/ia,  means  any- 
thing eaten  ;  while  the  second,  /Spuint,  is  used  else- 
where in  NT  for  '  the  act  of  eating ' ;  but  in  the 
Gospels  three  times  (in  John)  for  that  which  Ls 
eaten  ;  t^Wce  as  a  general  term  for  food  (Jn  4^  6^), 
and  once  as  contrasted  with  drink  (6").  In  these 
jjassages  in  John's  Gospel,  Jesus  uses  the  term 
figuratively,  of  .spiritual  nourishment,  which  He 
Himself  could  give,  describing  His  own  body  as 
'food  indeed.' 

The  ordinary  food  in  Christ's  day  consisted  chiefly 
of  flesh,  cereals,  fruits,  and  herbs.  Of  flesh,  that  of 
sheep,  oxen,  kids,  birds  (Mt  12'-  25*-,  Lk  13'S  Mt 
10-='),  as  well  a-s  lish  (Mt  7'°,  Lk  24^-,  Jn  6^  21i3)  was 
in  common  use.  Of  cereals,  fllipat  :uid  barley  were 
favourite  foud-sturts  (Mt  S>-,  Mk  2--^,  Lk  3",  Jn 
ti"21'^):  of  herbs  there  is  mention  of  mint,  anise, 
and  cummin  (Mt  23^,  Lk  11^^') ;  of  fruits,  we  hear  of 
figs  (Lk  13',  Mt  21'8-''')  and  grapes  (Mt  7'«,  Mk  12^). 
The  cereals  were  prepared  by  grinding  in  crude 
mills,  and  the  Hour  was  made  into  loa\  es  or  cakes 
baked  in  ovenv.  Food  «  as  seasoned  with  salt  (Mk 
9**) ;  nmstanl  leaver  an.l  lummin  were  used  as 
condiments.     Sim- ait.  Mkai.s. 

John  the  liaptist,  like  .some  others  of  his  day, 
lived  nearer  to  nature,  as  a  rebuke  of  prevalent 
luxury,  and  chose  the  native  food  of  the  wilder- 
nes.s,  'locusts  and  wild-honey"  (Mt  .3',  Mk  1«). 
Jesus  -came  'eating  and  drinking'  the  ordinary 
food  of  His  time,  rebuking  the  artificial  abstemi- 
ousness of  the  Pharisees  (Mt  If'"-,  Lk  7^'-),  as  well 
as  the  too  great  anxiety  of  many  as  to  what  they 
should  eat  or  drink  (Mt  6="-,  Lk  12--=«). 

E.  B.  Pollard. 

FOOL.— This  word  occurs  6  times  in  the  AX  of 
the  Gospels  as  the  translation  of  dfiTjToj  (Lk  24==), 
&4>pap  (II"  122"),  and  /lupds  (Mt  5--  23«-  '»).  In  the 
RV  it  occurs  only  twice  (Mt  5^  23'"),  being  in  Mt 
23'»  omitted  from  the  text,  and  in  the  three  re- 
maining places  the  rendering  given  is  'foolish.' 
Further,  ^wpdi  occurs  in  Mt  7-*25--  '■ ",  and  in  these 


places,  both  in  AV  and  RV,  it  is  translated 
•foolish.' 

These  three  Greek  words,  confused  more  or  less 
by  the  principal  versions, — the  Har^lean  Syriac 
and  Coptic  are  exceptions, —  are  not  synonyms. 
'\v6r)T0!  implies  a  lack  of  comprehension  or  under- 
standing, and  so  is  very  fittingly  used  in  Lk  24"-". 
"Ai^pwy,  signifying  'mindless'  or  'senseless,'  fre- 
quently carries  >\-ith  it,  in  Biblical  usage  (cf.  its 
constant  emplojinent  in  the  LXX  of  Proverbs),  an 
underlj-ing  meaning  of  moral  defect,  impiety,  or 
unbelief ;  while  in  mw/»s  (cf.  fiupalveaeai,  Mt  5'"  '  to 
become  insipid ')  the  predominant  meaning  is '  dull,' 
'witless,'  'stupid.' 

Tlie  meaning  of  iioipi  in  Alt  5"  has  been  much 
discussed.  Afford  mentions  three  interpretations  : 
(I)  that  it  is  to  be  understood  as  the  ordinary 
Greek  word  for  '  fool ' ;  (2)  that  it  is  a  translitera- 
tion of  the  Heb.  rrib  (inoreh),  meaning  'rebel'  or 
'  perverse '  (cf.  Nu  20'°),  a  word  which  is  put  in 
II Vm  as  an  alternative  to  'fool';  (3)  that  it  bears 
the  sense  of  iSScos  according  to  the  Heb.  usage  of 
V?j  (nuhal,  and  cf.  1  S  25'^).  However,  there 
seems  to  be  no  real  reason  for  supposing  the  word 
to  be  other  than  the  Greek  /lu/xJs  used  in  its  ordin- 
ary Biblical  sense. 

Our  Lord  ^vished  to  emphasize  the  enormity  of 
murder.  He  said,  '  Ye  have  heard  tliat  it  was 
said  to  them  of  old  time,  Thou  shalt  not  kill,  and 
Whosoever  shall  kill  shall  be  in  danger  of  the 
judgment.  But  I  say  unto  you  that  whosoever  is 
angry  [the  inward  feeling]  with  his  brother,  is  in 
danger  of  the  judgment ;  and  whosoever  shall  say 
to  his  brother,  Raca  [a  contemptuous  utterance 
arising  from  the  inward  anger,  and  probably  no 
definite  word ;  see  Raca],  shall  be  liable  to  a 
more  solenm  judgment ;  but  whosoever  shall  say, 
Thou  fool  [the  angry  feeling  formulated  in  a 
definite  word  of  conteiuptuous  depreciation],  shall 
be  worthy  of  a  more  dreadful  doom.'  This  is,  in 
the  main,  Augustine's  explanation  (de  Serm.  Dom. 
in  Mont,  I.  ix.);  and  thus  our  Lord  leaves  it  to  be 
inferred  how  heinous  actual  murder  is  in  His  eyes. 

Every  use  of  the  word  '  fool '  is  not,  of  course, 
condemned.  Our  Lord  Himself  (see  above)  anil 
St.  Paul  (Gal  3')  employed  it  in  needful  rebuke ; 
but  that  use  of  it  is  condemned  which  springs 
from  angry  feelings,  and  which  is  one  step  on  tlie 
waj'  to  violence  or  even  to  murder. 

LiTERATrRE. — Grimiu-Thayer,  Lex.,  under  the  Greek  ternts ; 


Albert  Bonus. 

FOOLISHNESS.— In  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount, 
Jesus  ix)ints  out  the  grave  sin  of  saying  to  our 
brother,  'Thou  fool '  (iiwpi,  Mt  5-).  When  He 
likened  His  critics  to  children  in  the  market-place 
who  would  play  at  neither  a  sad  nor  a  merry  game 
(Mt  11'°-'"),  was  He  not  saying  in  His  heart,  'Ye 
fools '  ?  But  anger  and  contempt  are  the  sources 
of  the  former ;  wonder  and  pity,  mingled  with 
indignation,  shape  the  latter.*  He  who  knew 
whiit  was  in  man  had  occasion  to  marvel  at  the 
foolishness  of  men.  That  foolishness  is  a  ruinous 
self-deception  in  spiritual  things.  He  points  out 
this  folly  in  these  classes  : 

1.  The  foolishneis  of  worldUi  men. — God  .said  to 
the  rich  man,  '  Thou  fool'  {i^puiv,  Lk  122").  flie 
parable  (vv.'^^)  was  inspired  by  a  request  which 
showed  to  Christ  a  heart  so  absorbed  in  thought  of 
material  good  that  it  could  not  listen  to  His  mes- 
sage. That  fact  gives  us  the  point  of  view  from 
which  to  consider  the  parable.  The  gootl  of  life 
cannot  be  in  earth's  riches  which  pass  from  owner 
to  owner,  and  whose  possession  is  at  the  niercj-  of 
death,  which  is  only  an  accident  to  the  immortal 


1 


FOOT 


FOOTSTOOL 


soul  (v.-").  Covetousness,  a  man's  absorption  in 
heaping  up  and  enjoying  things,  is  folly  in  so  far  as 
it  hinders  him  from  attaining  to  the  true  riches, 
treasure  of  the  soul  laid  up  with  God  (vv.'^-  ^'). 

2.  The  foolishness  of  theformulUt,  who  shuts  his 
eyes  (^upoi  Kal  rv^iXol)  to  the  spiritual  side,  the 
inward  consecration  which  gives  meaning  and 
value  to  conduct  or  to  things  (Lk  11*',  Mt  23"). 

3.  The  foolishness  of  the  irlir/ions. —Thin  thought 
occurs  more  frequently.  It  is'a  mark  of  our  Lord's 
teaching  that  it  is  concerned  rather  with  the 
subtler  forms  of  evil  whicli  beset  the  religious  class. 
He  assumes  that  those  sins  of  sense  and  temper 
which  all  the  world  condenins,  need  no  condemna- 
tion from  Him.  Tliis  foolishness  consists  generally 
in  a  lack  of  seriousness,  a  lack  of  whole-hearted- 
ness  and  simplicity  in  faith  and  conduct.  There 
are  those  who  hear  His  words  and  do  them  not 
(Mt  7°'' '-'').  These  are  believers  whose  whole 
spirit  is  a  contradiction,  children  of  faith  in 
mind,  children  of  unfaith  in  conduct.  This  fool- 
ishness of  believers  is  the  formative  thouglit  of 
the  parables  of  the  Unjust  Steward  (Lk  16^"")  and 
of  the  Ten  Virgins  (Mt  25>-i3).  The  meaning  of 
the  former  pf,rable  is  said  by  Jesus  to  be,  that  the 
children  of  tliis  world  are  wiser  in  their  generation 
than  the  children  of  light.  That  wisdom  consists 
in  greater  singleness  of  vision  both  as  regards  ends 
and  means.  The  steward  sees  his  end  clearly  :  he 
apportions  his  means  to  that  end,  uses  as  best  he  may 
what  resources  he  has.  The  infmence  is  left  as  to 
the  wavering  vision,  both  of  end  and  of  means,  on 
the  part  of  the  children  of  light.  The  same  thought 
is  in  the  subsidiary  and  incidental  lesson  as  to 
making  friends  by  means  of  the  mammon  of  un- 
righteousness. Selfishness,  not  brotherliness,  rules 
this  fraudulent  steward,  but  he  sees  clearly  those 
facts  of  our  human  life,  gratitude  and  kindliness, 
which  make  brotherhood  possible,  and  he  turns 
them  to  his  ends.  On  the  other  hand,  brother- 
hood is  the  faith  of  the  children  of  light,  and  yet 
they  greatly  neglect  this  rich  field.  The  parable 
of  the  Ten  Virgins  completes  this  teaching  of  the 
foolishness  of  a  half-hearted  faith.  It  hints  the 
irrevocable  loss  believers  bring  upon  themselves 
thereby.  Life's  opportunities  come  unexpectedly 
— calls  to  service,  possibilities  of  honour  and 
spiritual  enriching  —  and  the  half-hearted  miss 
these.  Their  heart-culture,  their  spirits'  disci- 
pline have  been  sleeping ;  and  the  chances  of  life 
jiass  them  by. 

The  seat  of  all  these  follies  is  the  heart  (Mk 
7"^).  It  is  not  any  mere  action  of  the  intellect 
which  here  comes  into  condemnation.  All  these 
forms  of  foolishness  are  a  ruining  self-deception. 
The  mind  is  there  the  servant,  of  the  heart  whose 
desires  have  confused  and  led  it  astray. 

Richai;d  Gl.\ister. 

FOOT. — The  references  in  this  connexion  arise 
chiefly  from  the  fact  that  the  foot  in  relationship 
to  the  head  is  the  inferior  part  of  the  body. 

1.  Hnmilitij  and  dejllrmmf. — A  still  lower  level 
was  readied  by  the  shoes  or  sandals,  which  were 
in  direct  contact  with  the  common  earth.  John 
the  Baptist  indicated  his  inferiority  to  Christ  by 
saying  that  he  was  unworthy  to  unfasten  His 
shoelatchet  (Mk  1').  To  walk  b.'ircfoot  was  the 
signofacaptiv.'pii.s(,ii,.,(l.s-_!iHi.:iiMl  :is  a  voluntary 
act  of  self-infii.-tioii  ,,11,.,,  inim,  |,;,ti  c,f  a  personal 
vow.  To  be  tru.Muii  uii.l.'r  ln,,i  «:,,  the  symbol  of 
utter  degradatiun  (Mt  0'-,  Lk  21-',  lie  lO^').  At 
the  entrance  to  an  Oriental  house  the  shoes  are  re- 
moved, not  merely  for  the  sake  of  cleanliness  as  a 
preliminary  to  sitting  down  with  the  feet  drawn 
under  the  dress,  but  also  out  of  regard  to  the 
sanctity  of  family  life,  so  that  no  defilement  may 
touch  the  rugs  and  mats  that  have  lieen  hallowed 
by  prayer  and  the  Divine  presence.     He  who  stood 


aly  ground   had  to  put  oft'  his  shoes  (Ex  3', 


Orientals  are  not  accustomed  to  wear  stockings 
with  their  open  shoes,  and  it  was  an  act  not  only 
of  ceremonial  duty,  but  of  personal  comfort,  to 
bathe  the  feet  after  a  journey  over  the  hot  and 
dusty  ground.  It  was  a  courtesy  due  to  a  guest 
to  see  that  this  ministry  was  not  omitted.  Christ 
drew  attention  to  the  fact  that  in  the  house  of  one 
who  prided  himself  upon  his  precise  fulfilment  of 
the  Law  this  service  had  been  more  than  rendered 
to  Him  liy  ••!  wuiiian  whom  the  Pharisee  despised 
as  a  siinier  ( l.k  7^^-  -'^).  The  charge  to  His  disciples 
to  shake  the  tlust  from  their  feet  wherever  the 
message  of  the  Kingdom  \\as  not  received  (Mt  lO"'', 
Mk  6",  Lk  95  10"),  was  a  demonstration  to  both 
parties  of  the  unfitness  of  such  people  for  its 
menibershi]!.  When  Christ  washed  the  disciples' 
feet,  the  cleansing  meant  not  only  that  the  feet 
under  which  His  sacred  hands  had  been  placed 
could  never  turn  aside  to  paths  of  evil,  but  that 
they  could  never  be  set  down  with  harsh  and  proud 
authority  over  the  lives  and  rights  of  others.  His 
service  could  never  lay  upon  those  disciples  any 
greater  humiliation  than  had  been  rendered  to 
them.  It  became  a  law  of  the  Kingdom  to  '  wash 
one  another's  feet '  (Jn  13^-  "). 

2.  Autliority  and  subjection. — To  approach  the 
feet  of  the  great  was  the  concedeii  right  of 
the  weak  in  seeking  the  presence  and  help  of  the 
powerful.  To  kneel  down  and  clasp  the  teet  and 
even  to  kiss  them  is  still  the  Oriental  preliminary 
to  an  important  request.  When  inferiors  salute 
those  of  higher  rank,  the  first  act  of  gesture  is  to 
lower  the  hand  towards  the  ground  as  if  to  imply 
that  the  whole  body  should  be  there.  Sometimes 
the  word  is  allowed  to  do  service  for  the  deed,  as 
when  the  supplicant  says,  '  Allow  me  to  kiss  your 
feet.'  The  impression  meant  to  be  produced  is 
that  the  party  addressed  has  the  power  to  do  what 
is  asked,  and  that  the  only  unsettled  point  is  the 
question  of  his  willingness  (Mt  IS^^  20=",  Mk  1« 
10"). 

The  foot  on  the  neck  as  a  symbol  of  conquest 
seems  to  have  been  borrowed  from  the  primitive 
pastoral  life.  When  an  Oriental  shei^herd  wishes 
to  punish  a  straying  and  inattentive  sheep,  he 
casts  it  on  its  side,  and  with  all  his  weight  presses 
and  rubs  the  iron-studded  sole  of  his  shoe  against 
its  neck  (1  Co  15='-=').  In  killing  a  serpent,  the 
Syrian  peasant,  even  witli  a  stick  in  his  hand, 
usually,  after  a  blow  or  two,  jumps  upon  the 
serpent,  and  by  a  quick  succession  of  stamps 
bruises  it  to  death  (Ps  til'"',  Ro  16™).  To  sit  at  the 
feet  of  his  teaclier  was  the  attitude  of  the  disciple 
(Mt  lO^-",  Lk  lO^'-",  Ac  22'').  The  Pharisees  thus  sat 
in  Jloses'  seat  (Mt  23=). 

The  risen  Lord  was  recognized  by  the  marks  in 
His  hands  and  His  feet  (Lk  24'») ;  see  PRINT. 
On  Mt  188 II  see  Ascetici.sm,  p.  129. 

G.  M.  Mackie. 

FOOTSTOOL  (yTTOTTiStoi').— With  the  single  ex- 
ception of  Ja  2'  the  word  is  used  figuratively  in 
the  NT,  to  express  the  idea  of  'subjection  or 
'complete  control.'  In  this  sense  it  occurs  fre- 
quently in  the  Gospels :  e.ff.  Mt  22"_,  Mk  12=«,  Lk 
20''^,  where  the  Synoptists  record  Christ's  quotation 
from  Ps  110 — a  psalm  always  regarded  1>v  tbi'  .bw  - 
as  distinctly  Messianic.  In  Mt  2--'"  l;\'.  nii  lli,' 
authority  of  some  of  the  most  ancient  MSS  ami 
versions,  accepts  vTOKaroi  instead  of  iiron-iiioi',  aiul 
translates,  '  till  I  put  thine  enemies  under  thy 
feet.'  Similarly  in  Mk  IS'"  inroKaTu  is  read  by 
many  ancient  authorities,  and  is  adopted  by  AVH. 
Here,  however,  RV  retains  inroiri5i.ov  (with  marg. 
note)  ;  but  (as  also  in  Lk  20^^  and  Mt  5-'')  trans- 
lates more  correctly  '  footstool  of  thy  (or  his)  feet' 
instead  of  AV  '  thy  (or  his)  footstool.' 


G06 


FOECE 


FORCE 


In  its  apjilicatioii  to  Christ  tlie  word  shows  Him 
in  His  Kingly  office  triumphing  over  His  enemies, 
and  bringing  all  men  into  captivity  to  His  obedi- 
ence ;  cf.  1  Co  15^  '  For  he  must  reign  till  he  hath 
put  all  enemies  under  his  feet.' 

DuGALD  Clark. 

FORCE.— 1.  Force,  as  defined  by  modern  science, 
is  inherent  in  matter  and  inseparable  from  it.  It  is 
defined  al.so  as  the  power  of  doing  work.  Tlie  modes 
and  the  efi'ects  of  its  activities  are  mechanical. 
It  can  neither  exist  nor  act,  therefore,  within  the 
moral  sphere  of  the  universe.  And  from  this  fact 
it  follows  tliat  force  and  its  activities  are  entirely 
foreign  to  tlie  essential  facts  and  truths  of  Cliris- 
tianity.  This  truth  is  recognized  by  tlie  four 
Gospels,  for  in  their  records  of  Christ's  life  and 
mission,  the  entire  import  of  which  was  moral,  no 
word  is  employed  capable  of  being  construed  into 
the  meaning  of  force  as  just  explained.  The  word 
'  force '  occurs  only  twice  in  these  records  (Mt  11'-, 
Jn  6"  EV);  and  in  both  cases  it  is  used  as  the 
translation  of  apjrdfu),  which  signifies  to  seize  or 
cnrry  off  (an  object  by  physical  force  or  compul- 
sion). It  is  the  use  of  physical  force  or  compulsion 
that  is  denoted  by  St.  Jolin's  statement  that  tlie 
people  wanted  to  take  Jesus  by  force  to  make  Him 
a  king ;  and  it  is  probable  that  our  Lord  had  the 
employment  of  force  of  the  same  kind  in  His  mind 
when  He  said,  as  St.  Matthew  reports  :  '  From  the 
days  of  John  the  Baptist  until  now  tlie  kingdom  of 
heaven  suftereth  violence  (/Siafercu  = '  is  carried  by 
force  or  assault'),  and  the  violent  (or  a-ssaUants) 
take  it  by  force '  [apva^ovcnv).  The  order  of  ideas 
here  expressed  is  exactly  in  terras  of  the  principle 
of  domination  by  force,  which  was  universal  in 
antiquity  ;  .t  prinriple  which  was  entirely  antago- 
nistic t"  lli^  (i-iiitial  ideas  as  to  the  moral  nature 
of  the  kiiii;ilum  ci  liraven,  and  the  moral  conditions 
by  mean-  ut  wIik  li  alone  entrance  to  it  could  be 
gained.  And  as  He  fully  realized  that  the  prin- 
ciple alluded  to  was  hostile  to  the  nature,  interests, 
and  laws  of  the  heavenly  kingdom,  and  warned  His 
disciples  against  it  (>lk  10'-'*^),  it  may  be  con- 
cluded that  He  did  not  express  Himself  in  the 
language  of  the  force  which  the  dominating  powers 
of  tlie  ancient  world  employed,  meaning  thereby 
that  places  in  the  kingdom  of  lieaven,  as  He  under- 
stood and  wished  His  hearers  to  understand  the 
latter,  were  in  great  demand,  and  that  men  were 
eagerly  doing  their  utmost  to  secure  them.  His 
real  meaning  is  not  quite  apparent.  He  Himself 
represented  the  kingdom  of  God.  He  had  come  to 
found  it.  In  His  life  and  activities  its  principles 
came  to  perfect  realization.  To  subject  Him  in  any 
way  to  the  abusive  treatment  of  the  force  of  domi- 
nating powers  or  authorities,  was  to  do  'violence' 
in  His  Person  to  the  kingdom  of  lieavcn  ;  and  it 
was  also  '  to  take '  the  kingdom,  in  the  sen.se  of 
inakin"  it  in  His  Person  an  object  of  violent  abuse. 
When  He  spoke  the  words  in  (question  His  ministry 
in  Galilee  was  closing  in  disappointing  circum- 
stances. John  the  Baptist  had  been  already  made 
a  victim  of  violent  abuse  ;  and  He  knew  tliat  His 
'  hour,'  a  more  terrible  destiny  than  John's,  would 
not  lie  long  delayed.  Might  it  not  be  His  cross, 
then,  tliat  was  in  His  mind  when  He  spoke  tlie 
Avords  in  question  ?  [For  the  more  usual  view  that 
the  A-iolence  which  takes  the  kingdom  by  force  is 
the  friendlj'  violence  of  those  who  seek  to  enter  if, 
see  A.  B.  Bruce,  Expositor's  Gr.  Test,  in  lor., 
Expositor,  I.  v.  [1877]  p.  197  ff.]. 

2.  'Force,'  however,  is  a  term  which  is  not 
aways  used  in  its  strictly  scientific  sense.  In  ordi- 
nary use  it  is  synonymous  with  strength  or  pouvr. 
'Power'  is  a  word  of  frequent  occurrence  in  the 
Gospels,  and  in  many  instances  where  it  is  em- 
ployed it  possesses  moral  significance  of  very  high 
value.    The  word  '  power  '  in  the  EV  of  the  Gospels 


is  rei>resentcd  by  two  Greek  Icrius  iu  the  original, 
Anz.  i^ovaia  and  Si'va/n.;,  the  former  of  which  is 
soiuctiiiies  translated  by  the  word  'authority.' 

'E|oi;o-ia  may  be  taken  first.  Power  in  the  sense 
of  this  word  is  not  always  spoken  of  as  Christ's 
power  ;  but  it  is  as  His  power  that  it  has  its  cliief 
interest  here.  The  jwwer  (efow/o)  that  Christ 
possessed  was  a  power  in  which  might  was  com- 
bined with  right ;  and  this  is  why  it  is  sometimes 
called  authority  in  the  Gospels  and  sometimes 
ix)wer.  He  was  able  to  do  things  because  He  had 
the  right  to  do  them  ;  and  no  one  had  any  right 
to  hinder  Him  or  to  call  Him  in  question.  And 
the  things  that  He  had  the  right  and  the  power 
to  do  were  all  of  a  nature  purely  moral ;  and 
things,  moreover,  which  He  alone  could  do,  and 
which  were  of  transcendent  importance.  Sv'liat 
were  thej-'?  (1)  He,  as  the  Son  of  man,  had 
power  on  earth  to  forgive  sins  (!Mt  9",  ilk  2"'). 
(2)  He  has  power  to  give  eternal  life  to  those 
whom  the  Father  has  given  to  Him  (Jn  17-).  (3) 
He  has  jxiwer,  or  authority,  also  to  execute  judg- 
ment, because  He  is  the  Son  of  man  (Jn  5-').  (4) 
He  is  invested  with  all  power  in  heaven  and  in 
earth  (Mt  28>»).  (o)  Lastly,  He  had  power  to  lay 
down  His  life  on  earth,  and  power  to  take  it  again 
(Jn  10'').  The  explanation  of  the  various  forms 
of  power  (efowia)  possessed  by  Christ,  and  of  the 
grounds  on  which  His  claim  to  the  possession  of 
them  rests,  lies  in  a  domain  of  essential  Christian 
truth. 

It  needs  to  be  strongly  emphasized  that  all  the 
forms  of  the  power  in  question  are  moral.  The 
power  to  forgive  sins,  to  judge  men  as  moral  beings, 
to  give  eternal  life  to  men  as  moral  beings,  to  lay 
down  one's  life  in  perfect  self-sacrificing  love  and 
service  for  others'  good,  to  exercise  the  moral 
government  of  heaven  and  earth, — to  do  all  the.se 
things,  to  have  the  right  and  the  power  to  do  them, 
manife.stly  means  the  possession  and  the  exercise 
of  moral  power  of  the  highest  jiossible  order. 
Again,  it  is  evident  that  this  power  in  its  nature 
and  in  all  its  forms  of  manifestation  belongs  to 
the  supernatural  order  of  things.  Hut  in  the 
sphere  of  things  into  which  the  oriler  of  ideas 
considered  here  introduces  one,  the  supernatural 
and  the  natural  are  one.  It  is  within  the  sphere 
of  the  moral  order  of  things  that  Christ,  in  His 
moral  position  as  Mediator  between  God  and 
men,  exercised,  or  exercises,  the  forms  of  His 
power  alluded  to.  And  within  this  moral  sphere 
there  is  no  absolute  distinction  between  the  natu- 
ral and  the  supernatural.  Here  all  that  is  in 
harmony  with  God's  will  and  purpose  is  in  Him, 
and  He  is  in  it.  This  is  the  real  tnith  ;  and 
whether  it  be  called  natural  or  supernatural  is  only 
a  difference  in  name. 

Once  more,  all  tlie  forms  of  power  that  Christ 
claimed  for  Himself  were  His  by  delegation  from 
God.  But  this  does  not  mean  that  He  had  the 
right  and  the  power  to  exercise  them  in  a  imrely 
official  capacity,  without  their  having  any  relation 
to  and  dependence  on  what  He  was  as  a  mora) 
Being.  He  was  invested  with  them  by  God,  as  all 
but  one  of  the  passages  referred  to  above  indicate. 
But  one  of  the  passages  tells  us  that  He  had  power 
on  earth  to  forgive  sins  as  the  Son  of  mnn  ;  and 
another,  that  God  had  given  Him  authority  to 
execute  .Judgment  hecaitse  He  was  the  Son  of  man. 
He  was  both  the  Son  of  God  and  the  Son  of  man 
in  all  that  He  was  as  a  moral  Being  when  on  the 
earth,  exercising  the  high  moral  powers  that  He 
claimed  to  possess.  And  it  is  as  the  same  moral 
Being,  now  glorified,  that  He  exercises  every  moral 
power  that  He  claimed  as  His  own  by  Divine  gift 
and  prerogative.  In  other  words,  the  power  to  do 
all  the  things  that  have  been  specified  is  His  be- 
cause of  what  He  is  as  a  moral  Being.     To  forgive 


FORCE 


FORCE 


607 


sins,  to  judge  men,  etc.,  are  all  acts  of  moral  power 
wliich  belong  to  the  administration  of  the  moral 
order  of  the  world  as  it  now  is  v:ith  Christ  in  it  as 
the  one  only  Mediator  between  God  and  men. 
And  the  reason  why  the  administration  of  all 
things  belonginLj  to  tho  mmal  relations  between 
God  and  men  is  m  His  hands,  is— that  in  His  life 
and  death  on  earth  He  carm-d  tlie  moral  right  to 
occupy  this  momentous  jiosition  of  mediation  and 
power.  For  He  lills  this  position  and  administers 
its  powers  as  one  \\ho  has  pro\cd  Himself  all  that 
God  can  be  to  men,  and  all  that  every  man  ought 
to  become  and  be  to  God.  He  is  thus,  because  of 
what  He  is,  the  Divinely  human  and  the  humanly 
Divine,  true  way  of  forgiveness,  of  judgment,  of 
life,  and  of  moral  government  for  men.  Krom  His 
Father's  own  commandment  He  had  the  jjower  to 
lay  down  His  life,  in  living  and  in  dying  to  qualify 
Himself  for  this  destiny  of  absolute  pre-eminence 
in  the  moral  universe.  And  as  the  Father  com- 
manded Him,  so  He  did.  Therefore  His  name  is 
now  above  every  name  (Ph  2^-",  Jn  IT^""'^"). 

Avva)i.i.s  is  the  other  word  which  is  translated 
'power'  in  tlie  E\^  of  the  Gospels.  It  is  note- 
worthy that  none  of  the  Evangelists  includes  the 
word  '  energy '  (^i'^p7eia)  in  his  terminology ;  a 
word  which  St.  Paul  employed  to  denote  the 
efi'ectual  working  of  God's  redeeming  power  as 
manifested  in  (1)  the  raising  of  Christ  from  the 
dead,  and  in  the  setting  of  Him  at  God's  right 
hand  in  the  heavenly  places,  i.e.  in  the  moral  order 
of  things  (Eph  l''-*-^) ;  (2)  the  Divine  grace  that 
was  bestowed  on  St.  Paul  himself  by  the  working 
in  him  of  Divine  power  (Eph  3") ;  (3)  the  working 
of  the  same  Divine  power  in  the  creation  or  e'.olu- 
tion  of  an  order  of  moral  unity  in  the  relations  of 
all  men  to  one  another  in  Christ  ;  (4)  the  work- 
ing of  the  same  power  as  in  Christ  as  destined  to 
fashion  the  resurrection  body  of  believers  into  the 
glorious  likeness  of  His  own,  '  according  to  the 
working  whereby  he  is  able  even  to  subject  all 
things  unto  himself  (Ph  3-').  But  the  absence 
from  the  Gospels  of  the  term  '  energy,'  which  occu- 
pies a  place  of  such  extensive  and  high  importance 
in  St.  Paul's  general  conception  of  essential  Christi- 
anity, does  not  imply  the  absence  from  them  of  that 
order  of  Divine  working  for  which  the  word  stands 
in  the  Apostle's  writings.  The  entire  body  of 
moral  phenomena,  reproduced  by  the  Evangelists 
in  their  several  records,  and  in  wliich  the  power 
of  God  in  Christ  was  manifested,  was  a  revelation 
of  the  Divine  energy  in  St.  Paul's  sense  of  the 
word.  But,  further,  the  meaning  of  the  word 
ivipyaa.  is  included  in  that  of  the  word  Siiva/xis  as 
the  latter  is  used  in  the  Gospels ;  for  in  them  it 
signifies,  on  the  one  hand,  the  possession  of  power 
capable  of  action  ;  and,  on  the  other,  power  mani- 
festing itself  in  a  state  of  activity,  in  which  case 
it  appears  in  the  form  of  energy.  Power,  then,  as 
dipaiui,  holds  a  fundamental  place  in  the  Gospels 
as  records  of  how  Christ  conceived  it  and  mani- 
fested it  in  His  activities. 

(1)  Christ  regarded  the  ])ower  with  which  He 
associated  Himself  and  His  activities  and  their 
effects  as  moral,  and  as  having  its  ultimate  source 
in  God.  He  conceived  God  as  a  moral  Being,  and 
to  Him  as  such  He  ascribed  the  power  alluded  to 
(Mt  22=»  26«*,  Mk  91  14«2,  Lk  22=9).— (2)  But,  again, 
such  being  Christ's  view.  He  never  conceived 
of  Himself  as  possessing  and  exercising  power 
independently  of  God.  His  feeling  of  absolute 
dependence  on  God  for  power  had  a  deep  and 
controlling  place  in  His  consciousness.  It  was  the 
feeling  He  gave  unreserved  and  clear  expression 
to  when  He  said,  for  instance,  '  The  Son  can  do 
nothing  of  himself,  but  what  he  seeth  the  Father 
do'  ;  'I  can  of  mine  own  self  do  nothing'  ;  and, 
again,  '  The  Father  that  dwelleth  in  me,  he  doeth 


the  works '  (Jn  5"-  '^  14'").— (3)  It  was,  therefore, 
through  His  dependence  on  God  tliat  our  Lord 
olitained  the  power  by  means  of  wliich  He  was 
enalilcd  to  attain  to  His  perfect  moral  self-realiza- 
tion, and  by  means  of  which  He  was  enabled  to 
finish  tlic  work  His  V-.ahrv  ha,l  .^iven  Him  to  do. 
And  the  (|nc>[i.in  llni-  ;inM..,  as  to  how  He  was 
kept  in  p<is>r,--i(iii  C.I  .-I  rnnlinnuus  suniily  of  power 
for  the  great  i,,.,ial  ta>k  and  s.ivice  of  His  life. 
The  answer  to  this  question  is  to  be  found  in  the 
Gospels.  The  secret  of  His  strength  lay  in  His 
inner  life  of  perfect,  never  -  broken  union  and 
fellowship  witli  His  Father  in  all  things.  But 
this  life  of  union  and  fellowship  with  His  Father 
needed  itself  to  be  lontinually  iLiaintaincd  ;  and 
the  Gospels  also  show  how  this  w.as  ilonc  by  Him. 
He  did  it  by  i>ayimj  ]irvte((  li.\alty  lo  His  (lepencl- 
ence  on  His  i'al'h.v  ;  \.y  siiiviii-  in  e\.Mv  situation 
of  His  life  freely  and  I'l.il.rtl  y  to  i.leiLlily  Himself 
with  His  Father  ,-.  w  ill  an.l  ].nri.<i?^e  fur  His  life  and 
His  mission  ;  by  means  of  habits  of  self -discipline 
and  prayer  (Lk  3-i-  --  41-'^  6'=  i)-»-'^  22"''-'«  Jn  3"'' 
8=«.  =9). 

(4)  Christ,  moreover,  believed  that  His  disciples 
needed  the  same  Divine  power  that  was  His 
strength,  in  order  to  be  able  to  fulfil  the  moral 
task  in  life  to  which  He  called  them  ;  and  He  be- 
lieved that  this  power  would  be  available  for  them 
as  it  had  been  for  Himself  during  His  life  on  earth. 
His  Spirit  in  them  would  be  the  \-ery  power  {dum)u$) 
that  had  been  His  own.  And  in  tlieir  task  of 
overcoming  temptation,  of  moral  self-realization, 
of  achieving  good  in  service  for  the  kingdom  of 
God,  they  would  find  His  Spirit's  iiower  all-suHi- 
cient  for  them.  But  they  would  need  to  remember 
that  the  servant  was  not  gTeater  than  his  I,ord. 
They  would  need  to  depend  on  Him  as  He  de- 
pended on  God.  They  would  need  to  abide  in 
union  and  fellowship  with  Him.  They  must  keep 
His  words  as  being  the  Father's  words.  And  they 
must  also  follow  Him  in  the  path  of  humility,  self- 
discipline,  prayer,  and  self-denial  (Mt  10^»  nisi-si 
26^1,  Lk  IP"  223'-  3-  24®,  Jn  12=^-26  13"-"  14'»-i8  15^ 
17"->",  Ac  1'-  5). 

(5)  It  was,  finally,  in  the  exercise  of  the  Divine 
power  here  referred  to  that  our  Lord  performed 
those  extraordinary  works  of  His  to  which  the 
name  '  miracle '  has  been  given.  In  some  of  the 
Gospels  they  are  called  '  mighty  works '  {e.c/.  Mt 
ll'",  Mk  6*,  Lk  198').  These  works  of  power 
(Si'cd/ieis)  were  only  special  forms  in  which  was 
manifested  the  sai'iie  power  ili.it  was  revealed  in 
so  many  other  ways  in  the  mmal  activities  of 
Christ's  life.  He  wronL'lit  Hi-  miiacles  by  the 
same  power  that  enabled  Him  [.erfectly  to  over- 
come all  the  temptations  of  His  life,  and  to  accom- 
plish all  those  other  things  in  which  He  fulfilled 
His  Father's  will  and  purpose. 

Again,  it  never  occurred  to  Him  that  in  the 
doing  of  His  mighty  works  lie  contravened  or 
suspended  any  of  those  uiiiforniities  of  nature  to 
wliich  the  term  '  law  '  is  applieil  by  modern  science  ; 
though  with  many  of  those  uniformities  He  was 
quite  familiar,  and,  liesides,  .-ittached  to  them 
great  importance.  The  c|uestion  raised  for  science 
by  His  mighty  works  is  in  reality  not  a  question 
of  natural  lain  ;  it  is  a  question  of  natural  force  or 
energy.  Are  the  forces  inherent  and  operative  in 
the  physical  or  moral  order  of  the  world  of  such  a 
nature  as  to  render  it  impossible  for  the  miracles 
p.scribed  to  Christ's  jiower  to  have  happened  ? 
That  is  the  real  point  at  issue  as  between  the  testi- 
mony of  the  Gospels  and  Science.  And  the  man 
of  science  who  has  the  most  extensive  and  the 
dee)>est  kiK.wledu'e  of  the  energy  or  forces  of  the 
Uni\ei>e,  ami  who  has  therefore  entered  furthest 
into  (he  pie-eiire  of  the  luai'vels  and  the  mysteries 
of  these  forces  and  their  modes  of  manifestation. 


FORERUNXER 


FORESIGHT 


would  be  the  last  person  to  answer  the  question  in 
the  affirmative. 

Once  more,  the  mighty  works  ascribed  to  Christ 
in  the  Gospels  are  not  the  most  wonderful  of  His 
achievements.  It  is  often  pointed  out  in  defence 
of  these  mighty  works,  and  rightly,  that  they  were 
wrought  to  serve  beneficent  ends,  that  they  were 
manitestations  of  power  and  love  ministering  in 
various  ways  to  human  well-being  ;  and  that  as  so 
viewed,  they  wore  originally  and  homogeneously 
related  to  all  tlio  other  beneficent  activities  of  our 
Lord's  ministry.  It  is  also  argued  in  favour  of  the 
possibility  and  the  histmical  truth  of  the  miracles 
in  question,  that  His  perft'Lt  ]iprsonal  sinlessness 
and  holiness  was  a  moral  miracle  as  great  as,  if  not 
greater  than,  any  of  the  miglity  works  reported  bj 
the  Ev.angelists  as  performed  "by  Him.  There  is 
justice  in  this  argument.  It  was  by  the  power  of 
God  immanent  and  operative  in  Him,  and  by  His 
own  free  co-operation  therewith,  that  He  achieved 
His  perfect  moral  self-realization  in  which  He  was 
morally  as  perfect  as  God.  Tliat  was  a  miracle 
indeed  ;  and,  to  say  the  least,  there  is  no  mightier 
work  on  record  in  the  Gospels  and  represented  there 
as  wTought  by  Him  in  the  exercise  of  the  Divine 
power  of  which  He  was  a  personal  organ.  See, 
further.  Miracle. 

But  thatw-as  only  the  beginning  of  the  mightiest 
work  of  all  with  which  the  power  of  God  in  Christ 
is  associated,  and  which  is  only  coming  slowly  to 
manifestation  in  the  moral  progress  of  humanity. 
Christ  in  the  power  of  His  Spirit  is  in  the  moral 
life  of  mankind.  He  is  morally  re-creating  the 
life  of  the  human  race.  The  moral  order  of  the 
world  is  being  evolved  by  means  of  His  moral 
power  as  the  Mediator  between  God  and  men.  By 
means  of  His  moral  power  in  man's  life  and  his- 
tory, He  is  conducting  humanity  onwards  in  the 
path  that  will  bring  it  to  a  perfect  moral  destiny 
in  the  kingdom  of  God.  This  is  the  greatest, 
mightiest  of  all  His  miracles ;  and  whosoever 
imderstands  the  momentousness  of  the  moral  task 
it  implies  will  not  stumble  at  any  of  the  miglity 
works  on  record  in  the  Gospels. 

Literature.— On  iist;»^;«  and  «i.«iur  see  the  Lexicons  of 
Cremer  and  Grimm-Thayer,  s.vv.  On  Christ's  miraculous  power 
see  art.  '  Miracles  '  in  Hastings'  DB  ;  Mozley,  Bampton  Lectures, 
esp.  Lect.  vi.  W.  D.  ThOMSOX. 

FORERUNNER.— See  John  the  Baptist. 

FORESIGHT.— The  interest  of  the  student  of 
the  Gospels,  and  of  the  life  of  Jesus  which  forms 
their  substance,  in  the  topic  of  this  article,  is  two- 
fold. Jesus  is  represented  in  the  Gospels  as  at 
once  the  object  and  the  subject  of  the  most  de- 
tailed foresight.  The  work  which  He  came  to  do 
was  a  work  ordained  in  the  counsels  of  eternity, 
and  in  all  its  items  prepared  f..r  brf.iri-li;uiil  with 
the  most  perfect  prevision.  In  .iiMr.-^-inu  lliin-ilf 
to  the  accoraplisliment  of  thi>  wm  k  .1.  ~n^  pro- 
ceeded from  the  beginning  in  tht-  fullr-t  know- 
ledge of  the  end,  and  with  the  most  absolute 
adjustment  of  every  step  to  its  attainment.  It  is 
from  this  double  view -point  that  each  of  the 
Evan^jelists  depicts  the  course  of  our  Lord's  life 
on  earth.  They  consentiently  represent  Him  as 
having  come  to  perform  a  specific  task,  all  the 
elements  of  which  were  not  only  determined  be- 
forehand in  the  plan  of  God,  but  adumbrated,  if 
somewhat  sporadically,  yet  with  sufficient  ful- 
ness for  the  end  in  view,  in  the  prophecies  of 
the  OT.  And  they  represent  Him  as  coming  to 
perform  this  task  with  a  clear  consciousness  of 
Its  nature  and  a  competent  control  of  all  the 
means  for  its  discharge,  so  that  His  whole  life 
v.as  a  conscientious  fulfilment  of  a  programme, 
and  moved  straight  to  its  mark.     The  conception 


of  foresight  thus  dominates  the  whole  Evangelical 
narrative. 

It  is  not  necessary  to  dwell  at  length  upon 
the  Evangelists'  conception  of  our  Lord's  life  and 
work  as  the  fulfilment  of  a  plan  Divinely  pre- 
determined for  Him.  It  lies  on  the  face  of  their 
narratives  that  the  authors  of  the  Gospels  had  no 
reservation  with  respect  to  the  all-embracing  pre- 
destination of  God  (cf.  Hastings'  DD  iv.  54-56) ; 
and  least  of  all  could  they  exclude  from  it  this 
life  and  work  which  was  to  them  the  hinge  upon 
which  all  history  turns.  To  them  accordingly  our 
Lord  is  by  way  of  eminence  '  the  man  of  destiny,' 
and  His  whole  life  (Lk  -2^  4«)  was  governed  bj 
'  the  5el  of  the  Divine  counsel.'  Every  step  of  His 
pathway  was  a  '  necessity '  to  Him,  in  the  fulfil- 
ment of  the  mission  for  which  He  had  '  come 
forth '  (Mk  1=8,  cf.  Swete),  or  as  St.  Luke  (4«)  in 
quite  Johannine  wise  (o-'^-  '"■  *>•  ^-  ^  G-"-'-  >»•  ^-  ■•"  et 
passim)  expresses  it,  'was  sent'  (cf.  Mt  10",  Mk 
9=7,  Lk  9^8  10'»  ;  Jit  15-^  21",  Mk  12",  Lk  201^,  cf. 
Swete  on  jMk  9").  Especially  was  all  that  con- 
cerned His  departure,  the  accomplishment  of  which 
(Lk  9^S  cf.  v.^'i)  was  His  particular  task,  under  the 
government  of  this  '  Divine  necessity '  (Mt  16-'  26", 
Mk  8^1,  Lk  9-  17-^  22^--  ^  24'-  «,  Jn  3»  20',  cf.  Ac 
2=3  318  428^  ana  We.stcott  on  Jn  20»).  His  final 
journey  to  Jerusalem  (Mt  16='),  His  rejection  by 
the  rulers  (Mk  8",  Lk  9~  IT"-*),  His  betrayal  (Lk 
24'),  arrest  (Mt  26--'),  suflerings  (Mt  26",  Mk 
8^',  Lk  9==  17^),  and  death  (Mt  IG'-',  Mk  8»',  Lk 
9~)  by  crucifixion  (Lk  24',  Jn  3'^),  His  rising  again 
(Jn  209)  on  the  third  day  (Mt  16=',  Mk  8^',  Lk  9== 
24"-  ^') — each  item  alike  is  declared  to  have  been 
'  a  matter  of  neces.sity  in  pursuance  of  the  Divine 
purpose '  (Meyer,  Mt  24"),  '  a  necessary  part  of  the 
destiny  assigned  our  Lord '  ( Meyer,  Mt  26=«).  '  The 
death  of  our  Lord '  thus  appears  '  not  as  the  acci- 
dental work  of  hostile  caprice,  but  (cf.  Ac  2==  3'*) 
the  necessary  result  of  the  Divine  predestination 
(Lk  22-),  to  which  Divine  Stt  (Lk  24-'«)  the  per- 
sonal free  action  of  man  had  to  serve  as  an  instru- 
ment' (Meyer,  Ac  4="). 

How  far  the  several  events  which  entered  into 
this  life  had  been  prophetically  announced  is  obvi- 
ously, in  this  view  of  it,  a  mere  matter  of  detail. 
All  of  them  lay  open  before  the  eyes  of  God  ;  and 
the  only  limit  to  pre-announcemeiit  was  the  extent 
to  which  God  had  chosen  to  reveal  what  was  to 
come  to  pass,  through  His  servants  the  prophets. 
In  some  instances,  however,  the  prophetic  an- 
nouncement is  particularly  adduced  as  tne  gi'ound 
on  which  recognition  of  the  necessity  of  occurrence 
rests.  The  fulfilment  of  Scripture  thus  becomes 
regulative  for  the  life  of  Jesus.  'Whatever  stoo<l 
written  of  Him  in  the  Law  or  the  Prophets  or  the 
Psalms  (Lk  24")  must  needs  (Set)  be  accomplished 
(Mt  26",  Lk  22"  24'=«,  Jn  2(>').  Or,  in  another 
form  of  statement,  particularly  frequent  in  Mt. 
,  yii  i.«i'-  -'3  414  817  i-w  1335  oii  OQX)  and  Jn.  (12^  IS'" 
I.'k"'  17'=  xy-*-^),  but  found  also  in  the  other  Evan- 
gelists (Mk  U'",  Lk  4='),  the  several  occurrences  of 
His  life  fell  out  as  they  did,  '  in  order  that  what 
was  spoken  by  the  Lord  '  through  the  prophets  or 
in  Scripture,  '  might  be  fulfilled '  (cf.  Mt  2"  26" 
27^  Lk  24"  ;  in  Jn  IS^-  '=,  Lk  24"  declarations  of 
Jesus  are  treated  precisely  similarly).  That  is  to 
say,  '  what  was  done  stood  ...  in  the  connexion 
of  the  Divine  necessity,  as  an  actual  fact,  by  which 
prophec}^  was  destined  to  be  fulfilled.  The  Divine 
decree  expressed  in  the  latter  mvst  be  accom- 
plished, and  til  that  rnd  this  .  .  .  enmc  to  pass, 
and  that,  nceordinq  tn  the  vhole  of  its  contents' 
(Meyer,  Mt  1-'=).  The  meaning  is,  not  that  there 
lies  in  the  OT  Scriptures  a  complete  predictive 
account  of  all  the  details  of  the  life  of  Jesus,  which 
those  skilled  in  the  interpretation  of  .Scripture 
might  read  oft'  from  its  pages  at  will.     This  pro- 


FORESIGHT 


FORESIGHT 


gramme  in  its  detailed  completeness  lies  only  in 
the  Divine  purpose  ;  and  in  Scripture  only  so  far 
forth  as  God  has  chosen  to  place  it  there  for  tlie 
guidance  or  the  assurance  of  His  people.     The 


meaning  is  rather  that  all  th; 
Jesus  in  the  OT  Scriiiluics  h 
ment  in  Him  ;  and  tli.U  cihuii. 
Him  there  to  assure  H  i  s  i  n  1 1 , ,  ii , 
of  His  life,  and  in  its,  u.  ilnn 
peoted  ending,  llc-w.is  nnl  (li 
the  victim  of  tin-  ImIumI  nf  me 
His  work  or  iirih.ii.-  .mu  the 


written  of 
IS  its  certain  fultil- 
li  si.iuds  written  of 
IS  iliat  in  the  course 
,  sir.uige  and  unex- 
;  prey  of  chance  or 
1,  to  the  marring  of 
defeat  of  His  mis- 


sion, but  was  full(n\  iuy  step  by  step,  straight  to  its 
goal,  the  predestined  pathway  marked  out  for  Him 
in  the  counsels  of  eternity,  and  sufficiently  revealed 
from  of  old  in  the  Scriptures  to  enable  all  who 
were  not  'foolish  and  slow  of  heart  to  believe  in  all 
that  the  prophets  h.u,-  spoken,'  to  perceive  that 

the  Christ  must  Is  li;i\  r  lived  just  this  life  and 

fvdfiUedjustthi.  dr^tniv. 

That  the  whole  cuuisc  of  tlie  life  of  .Irsns,  and 
especially  its  culmination  in  (In'  .lo.illi  which  He 
died,  was  foreseen  and  afurc-]iir|.,ii  ,-,l  hy  ( iud, 
enters,  thus,  into  the  very  sulist.iiiro  ot  tiic  Evan- 
gelical narrative.  It  enters  equally  into  its  very 
.substance  that  this  life  teas  from  the  beginning 
lived  out  by  Jesus  Himself  in  full  view  of  its  drift 
and  its  issue.     The  Evangelists  are  as  far  from 


hliii.ll 


notot  111- own  rhooMM-,  to  all  uiiaiitiniMlo,!  ,.,mI, 
as  they  are  from  n-pro>eiitiiig  Uiiu  as  tliwarliMl  in 
His  purposes,  or  limited  in  His  achievement,  or 
determined  or  modified  in  His  aims  or  methods,  by 
the  conditions  which  from  time  to  time  emerged 
in  His  way.  The  very  essence  of  their  representa- 
tion is  that  Jesus  came  into  the  world  with  a 
definite  mission  to  execute,  of  the  nature  of  which 
He  was  perfectly  aware,  and  according  to  which 
He  ordered  the  whole  course  of  His  life  as  it 
advanced  under  His  competent  control  unswerv- 
ingly to  its  preconceived  mark.  In  their  view  His 
life  was  lived  out,  not  in  ignorance  of  its  issues, 
or  in  the  form  of  a  series  of  trials  and  corrections, 
least  of  all  in  a  more  or  less  unavailing  effort  to 
wring  success  out  of  failure ;  but  in  complete  know- 
ledge of  the  counsels  of  God  for  Him,  in  perfect 
acquiescence  in  them,  and  in  careful  and  volun- 
tary fulfilment  of  them.  The  'Divine  Sec'  whicli 
governed  His  life  is  represented  as  fully  reco;;'- 
nized  by  Himself  (Mt  10-',  Mk  8^',  Lk  4*^  9~  IT'^  24', 
Jn3"12*'),  and  the  fullilmcnt  of  the  intimations 
of  prophecy  in  His  lifo  as  accepted  by  Him  as  a 
rule  for  His  voluntarv  action  (Mt  265'',  Lk  22" 
24»  «  Jn  20",  Mk  14*',  I-k  4-'.  Jn  1.3'8  15=^  17'= ;  cf. 
Mt  13"  15'  24'=  SG'*",  Mk  7°).  Determining  all 
things,  determined  by  none,  the  life  He  actually 
lived,  leading  up  to  the  death  He  actually  died,  is 
in  their  view  precisely  the  life  which  from  the 
beginning  He  intended  to  live,  ending  in  precisely 
the  death  in  which,  from  the  beginning.  He  in- 
tended this  life  to  issue,  undeflected  by  so  much 
as  a  hair's-breadth  from  the  straight  path  He  had 
from  the  start  marked  out  for  Himself  in  the 
fullest  prevision  and  provision  of  all  the  so-called 
chances  and  changes  which  might  befall  Him. 
Not  only  were  there  no  surprises  in  life  for  Jesus 
(ef.  art.  Amazement,  p.  48),  and  no  compulsions ; 
there  were  not  even  '  influences,'  as  we  speak  of 
'  influences '  in  a  merely  human  career.  The  mark 
of  this  lifo,  ,is  tlic  Kvancolisls  ,lci,i,t  it,  is  its  calm 
and  quiet  ,-.n]"-riorit  v  to  all  eirraim-laiiee  and  con- 
dition, an. I  to  all  the  \arie.l  toices  which  .sway 
other  li\es  ;  its  |irinie  chai.icteii-t  ies  are  volun- 
tariness aTul  imiependence.  Neither  His  mother, 
nor  His  brethren,  nor  His  disciples,  nor  the  people 
He  came  to  serve,  nor  His  enemies  bent  uf)on  His 
destruction,  nor  Satan  himself  with  his  tempta- 
VOL.  I. — 39 


tions,  could  move  Him  one  step  from  His  chosen 
path.  When  men  seemed  to  prevail  over  Him 
they  were  but  working  His  will ;  the  great  '  No 
one  has  taken  my  life  away  from  me ;  I  have 
power  to  lay  it  down,  and  I  have  power  to  take  it 
again'  (Jn  10'*'),  is  but  the  enunciation  for  the 
supreme  act,  of  the  principle  that  governs  all  His 
movements.  His  own  chosen  pathway  ever  lay 
fully  displayed  before  His  feet ;  on  it  His  feet  fell 
qiiietly,  but  they  found  the  way  always  unblocked. 
What  He  did.  He  came  to  tlo  ;  and  He  carried 
out  His  programme  with  unwavering  purpose  and 
indefectible  certitude.  So  at  least  the  Evangelists 
represent  Him.  (Cf.  the  first  half  of  a  striking 
article  on  '  Die  Selbstandigkeit  Jesu,'  by  Trott,  in 
Luthardt's  ZKWL,  1883,  iv.  233-241  ;  in  its  latter 
half  the  art.  falls  away  from  its  idea,  and  ends  by 
making  Jesus  absolutely  dependent  on  Scripture 
for  His  knowledge  of  God  and  Divine  things: 
'  We  have  no  right  whatever  to  maintain  that 
Jesus  received  revel.ations  from  the  Father  other- 
wise than  through  the  medium  of  the  sacred  Scrip- 
tures ;  that  is  a  part  of  His  complete  humanity ' 
(p.  238)). 

The  signature  of  this  sn].eni.ituial  life  which 
the  Evangelists  depict  ,l,-ii-  a-  Ininj.  lies  thus 
in  the  perfection  of  the  f..ic-iL:hi  h\  which  it  was 
governed.  Of  the  reality  oi  this  foresight  they 
leave  their  readers  in  no  doulit,  nor  3'et  of  its  com- 
pleteness. They  suggest  it  by  the  general  picture 
they  iliaw  of  the  self-directed  life  which  Jesus 
li\eil  in  view  of  His  mission.  They  record  repeated 
instances  in  which  He  mentions  beforeh.uid  events 
yet  to  occur,  or  foreshadows  the  end  from  the 
beginning.  They  connect  thesis  manifotations  of 
foresight  with  the  possession  by  Him  of  knowledge 
in  general,  in  comprehension  and  penetration  alike 
far  beyond  what  is  native  to  man.  It  may  per- 
haps be  natural  to  surmise  in  the  first  instance 
that  they  intend  to  convey  merely  the  conviction 
that  in  Jesus  was  manifested  a  prophet  of  supreme 
greatness,  in  whom,  as  the  culminating  example  of 
prophecy  (cf.  Ac  3~-  -^),  resided  beyond  precedent 
the  gifts  proper  to  prophets.  There  can  be  no 
question  that  to  the  writers  of  the  Gospels  Jesus 
was  '  the  incarnate  ideal  of  the  prophet,  who,  as 
such,  forms  a  class  by  Himself,  and  is  more  than  a 
prophet'  (this  is  what  Sehwartzkoptt'  thinks  Him, 


T/ic  I'njphcirs  ofJrsH,  Christ,  p.  7).  They  record 
with  evident  symjiathy  the  impression  made  by 
Him  at  the  outset  of  His  ministry,  tliatOod  had  at 

last  in  Him  visited  His  | pie  (Mk  i;'\  I,k  7'",  Jn 

4'i'9");  theytrace  the  ripcnine:  of  tin-  impression 
into  a  well-settled  belief  in  His  |no|ilict  ii:  char- 
acter (Mt  21",  Lk  24'-',  Mt  --'l"',  l.k  T'-',  Jn  7-"'); 
and  they  remark  upon  the  \xidespread  suspicion 
which  accompanied  this  belief,  that  He  was  some- 
thing more  than  a  prophet — possibly  one  of  the 
old  prophets  returned,  certainly  a  very  special 
prophet  charged  with  a  very  special  mission  for 
the  introduction  of  the  Messianic  times  (Mt  16'*, 
Mk  6'=  S'\  Lk  gs-'",  Jn  6'*  7").  They  repre- 
sent Jesus  as  not  only  calling  out  and  accepting 
this  estimate  of   Him,  but   frankly   assuming   a 

rahet's  place  and  title  (Mt  13",  Mk  6^  Lk  i'^, 
i**,  Lk  13**),  exercising  a  prophet's  functions, 
and  delivering  prophetic  discourses,  in  which  He 
unveils  the  future  (Mt  24-',  Mk  13-3,  j^  1429.  cf. 
Mt  28«,  Lk  24«,  and  such  passages  as  Mt  26^--  **, 
Mk  16').  Nevertheless  it  is  very  clear  that  in 
their  allusi.ms  to  the  snpern.itnral  knowledge  of 
Jesus,  th.'  I',van-e1i-tv  suppo-c  thcin^ch.^s  to  be 
illustratiim  Miniethin-  v.ny  nmch  ei  cater  than 
merely  ].rophetic  m-piration.  The  -pccilic  differ- 
ence between  . I  esiis  .anil  .a  pro]ihet,  in  their  view, 
was  that  wliile  .a  jirophet's  human  kiniwledge  is 
increased  by  many  things  i-eve.-iled  to  him  by  God 
(Am  3'),  Jesns  participated  in  all  the  fulness  of 


GIO 


FORESIGHT 


FORESIGHT 


the  Divine  knowledge  (Mt  ll^',  Lk  lO-'^  Jn  16'=  18* 
16="  21"),  so  that  all  that  is  knowable  lay  open 
before  Him  (Jn  17'°).  The  Evangelists,  in  a  word, 
obviously  intend  to  attribute  Divine  omniscience 
to  Jesus,  and  in  their  adduction  of  instances  of 
His  supernatural  knowledge,  whether  with  respect 
to  hidden  things  or  to  those  yet  buried  in  the 
future,  are  illustrating  His  possession  of  this 
Divine  omniscience  (cf.  Muirhead,  The  Eschatoloqy 
of  Jesus,  p.  119,  where,  in  partial  correction  of  the 
I'nore  inadequate  statement  of  p.  48,  there  is  recog- 
nized in  the  Evangelists  at  least  a  'tendency'  to 
attribute  to  our  Lord  '  Divine  dignity '  and  '  literal 
onmiscience'). 

Tliat  this  is  the  case  with  St.  John's  Gospel  is 
very  commonly  recognized  (for  a  plain  statement 
of  the  evidence  see  Karl  MilUer,  Gottliches  Wissen 
unci  gbttliche  Macht  des  johann.  Christus,  1882,  §4, 
pp.  29-47  :  '  Zeugnisse  des  vierten  Evangeliums  fiir 
Jesu  gottliches  Wissen').  It  is  not  too  much  to 
say,  indeed,  that  one  of  the  chief  objects  which 
the  author  of  that  Gospel  set  before  himself  was  to 
make  clear  to  its  readers  the  superhuman  know- 
ledge of  Jesus,  with  especial  reference,  of  course, 
to  His  own  career.  It  therefore  records  direct 
ascriptions  of  omniscience  to  Jesus,  and  represents 
them  as  favourably  received  by  Him  (Jn  16™  21"  ; 
cf.  Liddon,  liampfim  T.rrfnrrs,  ed.  4,  1869,  p.  466). 
It  makes  it  alum-t  thr  Ijusiness  of  its  opening 
cliapters  to  e\liil)it  tlii>  omniscience  at  work  in 
the  especially  l)i\iiic  lorm  (Lk  16'*,  Ac  l''".  He  4'-, 
I's  138  (139)^  Jer  17"^  2u'- ;  cf.  Swete  on  Mk  2^)  of 
immediate,  universal,  and  complete  knowledge  of 
the  thoughts  and  intents  of  the  human  heart  (cf. 
Westcott  on  Jn  2^),  laying  down  the  general 
thesis  in  2'"-  =*  (cf.  6"-  ™  21"),  and  illustrating  it  in 
detail  in  the  cases  of  all  with  whom  Jesus  came 
into  contact  in  the  opening  days  of  His  ministry 
(cf.  Westcott  on  Jn  1-"),  Peter  (1^-),  Pliilip  (l^^), 
Nathanael  (1^'),  Mary  (2^),  Niiu.liMuu-;  Ci),  the 
woman  of  Samaria  (4).  In  tho  (-inrially  ^Hiking 
ca.se  of  the  choice  of  Judas  lsc:iiioi  ,is  (jih-  of  the 
Apostles,  it  exjiressly  explains  th.-it  tins  was  due  to 
no  ii;nniami'  of  .hiclas'  character  or  of  his  futui'e 
.•utiim  id'-'  Ki"),  liut  was  done  as  part  of  our 
Lcmls  \..luiilaiv  fxecution  of  His  own  well-laid 
plans.  U  [lictuics  Jesus  with  great  explicitness  as 
liroseculing  His  whole  work  in  full  knowledge  of 
all  the  things  that  were  coming  upon  Him  (Jn  18^, 
cf.  Westcott),  and  with  a  view  to  subjecting  them 
all  to  His  governing  hand,  so  that  His  life  from  the 
beginning  should  run  steadily  onward  on  the  lines 
of  a  thoroughly  wrought-out  plan  (Jn  l"  2"'-  '^  S'-* 

(561.W.7U    76    g-JS    lO'S-lS     12'- 23     131.11.21.38     14-"J     165.32 

18*-  "). 

It  is  difficult  to  see,  however,  why  St.  John's 
Gospel  should  be  .separated  from  its  companions  in 
this  matter  (Schenkel  s.iys  frankly  that  it  is  only 
because  there  is  no  such  passa-r  in'St.  John's  Gos- 
pel as  Mk  13»2,  on  whirl,  „.,■  1„  !,,«■.  Whatever 
else  must  be  said  of  W.  \\"iv,l,.'s  I >r,s  Messiasge- 
heimnis,  etc.,  1901,  it  must  be  admitted  that  it  lias 
broken  down  this  artifii'ial  distinction  between  the 
Gospel  of  John  and  the  Synoptics).  If  they  do 
not,  like  St.  John  (16*;  21'^),  record  direct  ascrip- 
tions of  precise  omniscience  to  Jesus  by  His 
followi  1  s.  il,,v  ,1,,.  like  St.  John,  represent  Him 
as  Iliiii  Ir  r|:,ii,iiii._'  to  be  the  depository  and  dis- 
trilml-i  ..I  Hi,-  r.iiht-r's  knowledge  (Mtll='-™,  Lk 
10---=^j.  Nni  .lu  they  lag  behind  St.  John  in 
attributing  to  Jesus  the  Divine  prerogative  of 
reading  the  heart  (Mt  9',  Meyer  ;  Mk  2'-  *  8"  12"-  ■", 
Swete,  p.  Ixxxviii ;  I>k  h--  7™)  or  the  manifestation, 
in  otluM-  foniis,  ,,f  (Jml  liko  omniscience  (Mt  17'-'' 
21-,  Mk  II  11'  ,  1,1^  ,-•  IM  -j-jio;  <;f.  o.  Holtzmann, 
\V,n- ./.  ,„  /;/  ,/,,/,/  ,  p  I  I  „„d  p.  15,  note).  Le.ast 
of  all  .1..   (!i.y   t.ill    l"|iiii,i  St.  John   in   insisting 


matters  connected  with   His  own  life  and  death 

(Mt  9'5  12"  162'  20'8-  22.  28  262.21.34.  60_  ^H-  ol'J  gSl  931 
1033.  39.  45   112  148.  13. 16.  3U_    Lk  S**  9=2-  «.  51  1250  1335  I725 

183'  1930  22'0-2i.34.37  24«).  Nothing  could  exceed 
the  detailed  precision  of  these  announcements,— a 
characteristic  which  has  been  turned,  of  course,  to 
their  discredit  as  genuine  utterances  of  Jesus  by 
writers  who  find  difficulty  with  detailed  prediction. 
'  The  form  and  contents  of  these  texts,'  remarks 
Wrede  (Messiasgeheimnis,  etc.  p.  88),  '  speak  a 
language  which  cannot  be  misunderstood.  They 
are  nothing  but  a  short  summary  of  the  Passion 
history — "cast,  uf  ((lursc,  in  the  future  tense."' 
'"The  Pas^icii  liist.ii  V,  "  he  proceeds,  quoting 
Eichhorn,  ••(uulil  iiitainly  not  be  more  exactly 
related  in  few  w  ( n  ds. "  '  In  very  fact,  it  is  perfectly 
clear — whether  they  did  it  by  placing  upon  His 
lips  predictions  He  never  uttered  and  never  could 
have  uttered,  is  another  question — that  the  Evan- 
gelists designed  to  represent  Jesus  as  endowed 
with  the  absolute  and  unlimited  foresight  conso- 
nant with  His  Divine  nature  (see  Liddon,  Bampton 
Lectures,  ed.  4,  p.  464  fl'.  ;  and  cf.  A.  J.  Mason, 
The  Conditioiis  of  our  Lord^s  Life  on,  Earth,  pp. 
155-194). 

The  force  of  this  representation  cannot  be  broken, 
of  course,  by  raising  the  question  afresh  whether 
the  supernatural  knowledge  attributed  by  the  Evan- 
gelists to  our  Lord  may  not,  in  many  of  its  items  at 
least,  if  not  in  its  whole  extent,  find  its  analogues, 
after  all,  in  human  powers,  or  be  explained  as  not 
different  in  kind  from  that  of  the  prophets  (cf.  e.g. 
Westcott,  '  Additional  Note  on  Jn  2-'' ;  A.  J.  Mason, 
Conditions,  etc.  pp.  162-163).  The  question  more 
immediately  before  us  does  not  concern  our  own 
view  of  the  nature  and  origin  of  this  knowledge, 
but  that  of  the  Evangelists.  If  we  mil  keep 
these  two  questions  separate  we  shall  scarcely  be 
able  to  doubt  that  the  Evangelists  mean  to  present 
this  knowledge  as  one  of  the  marks  of  our  Lord's 
Divine  dignity.  In  interpreting  them  we  are  not 
entitled  to  parcel  out  the  ma,ss  of  the  illustra- 
tions of  His  supernormal  knowledge  which  they 
record  to  differing  sources,  as  may  fall  in  with  our 
own  conceptions  of  the  inherent  possibilities  of 
each  case ;  finding  indications  in  some  instances 
merely  of  His  fine  human  instinct,  in  others  of  His 
prophetic  inspiration,  while  reserving  others — if 
such  others  are  left  to  us  in  our  analysis — as 
products  of  His  Divine  intuition.  Tlie  Evangelists 
suggest  no  such  lines  of  cleavage  in  the  mass  ;  and 
they  must  be  interpreted  from  their  own  stand- 
point. This  finds  its  centre  in  their  exi)ressed 
conviction  that  in  Jesus  Christ  dwelt  the  fulness 
of  the  knowledge  of  God  (Mt  1127,  Lk  IO22,  Jn  83* 
16'=  17'°).  To  them  His  knowledge  of  God  and  of 
Divine  things,  of  Himself  in  His  Person  and 
mission,  of  the  course  of  His  life  and  the  events 
which  would  befall  Him  in  the  prosecution  of  the 
work  whereunto  He  had  been  sent,  of  the  men 
around  Him, — His  followers  and  friends,  the  people 
and  their  rulers, — down  to  the  most  hidden  aepths 
of  their  natures  and  tlie  mcisi  intimate  processes  of 
their  secret  thoughts,  an.l  ..t  all  the  things  forming 
the  environment  in  whirh  the  dr.ama  He  was 
enacting  was  cast,  hu\\e\  ei  widely  that  environ- 
ment be  conceived,  or  however  minutely  it  be 
contemplated, — was  but  tlie  manifestation,  in  the 
ever-widening  circles  of  onr  human  nuxles  of  con- 
ception, of  tlie  perfect  n|i|ireliensi<m  and  under- 
standing that  dwelt  ihaiij.U— ly  in  His  Divine 
intelligence.  He  w  li.i  knew  C.^l  perfectly,— it  were 
little  that  He  .iheul.l  kii..»  mai.  and  the  world 
perfectly  too ;  all  that  alleiiid  His  nwn  work  and 
career,  of  course,  and  with  it,  eipially  ef  (onrse, 
all  that  lay  outside  ui  ihi^  !■  f.  Mason.  I'lniihtmux, 
etc.  p.  168);  in  a  w.nd,  nnlniiitedly,  all  things. 
Even  if  nothin";  but  the  l.aw   of  Parsimony  st(jod 


FOEESIGHT 


FORESIGHT 


611 


in  the  way,  it  might  well  be  understood  that  the 
ilwmurlisis  would  be  deterred  from  seeking,  in  the 
ciisi' (if  Mirh  .-i  Being,  other  sources  of  information 
huHides  Ills  Divine  intelligence  to  account  for  all 
His  far-roaching  and  varied  knowledge.  At  all 
events,  it  is  clearly  their  conviction  that  all  He 
knew — the  scope  of  which  was  unbounded  and  its 
depth  unfathomed,  though  their  record  suggests 
rather  than  fully  illustrates  it — found  its  explana- 
tion in  the  dignity  of  His  person  as  God  manifest 
in  the  flesh. 

Nor  can  the  effect  of  their  representation  of 
Jesus  as  the  subject  of  this  all-embracing  Divine 
knowledge  be  destroyed  by  the  discovery  in  their 
narratives  of  another  line  of  representation  in 
which  our  Lord  is  set  forth  as  living  His  life  out 
under  the  conditions  which  belong  naturally  to 
the  humanity  He  had  assumed.  These  representa- 
tions are  certainly  to  be  neglected  as  little  as  those 
others  in  which  His  Divine  omniscience  is  sug- 
gested. They  bring  to  our  observation  another 
side  of  the  complex  personality  that  is  depicted, 
which,  if  it  cannot  be  said  to  be  as  emphatically 
insisted  upon  by  the  Evangelists,  is  nevertheless, 
perhaps,  equally  pervasively  illustrated.  This  is 
the  true  humanity  of  our  Lord,  within  the  scope  of 
which  He  willed  to  live  out  His  life  upon  earth,  that 
He  might  accomplish  the  mission  for  which  He 
had  been  sent.  The  suggestion  that  He  might 
break  over  the  bounds  of  His  mission,  in  order  that 
He  might  escape  from  the  ruggedness  of  His  chosen 
path,  by  the  exercise  whether  of  His  almighty 
power  (Mt  4^'-,  Lk  #'•)  or  of  His  unerring  foresight 
(Mt  16"  II),  He  treated  first  and  last  as  a  tempta- 
tion of  the  Evil  One — for  '  how  then  should  the 
Scriptures  be  fulfilled  that  thus  it  must  be'  (Mt 
26" ID?  It  is  very  easy,  to  be  sure,  to  exaggerate 
the  indications  in  the  Evangelists  of  the  confine- 
ment of  our  Lord's  activities  within  the  limits  of 
human  powere.  It  is  an  exaggeration,  for  example, 
to  speak  as  if  the  Evangelists  represent  Him  as 
frequently  surprised  by  "the  events  which  befell 
Him  :  they  never  predicate  surprise  of  Him,  and  it 
is  only  by  a  very  precarious  inference  from  the 
events  recorded  that  tliey  can  ever  be  supposed 
even  to  suggest  or  allow  place  for  such  an  emotion 
in  our  Lord  (ef.  art.  Amazement,  p.  48).  It  is  an 
exaggeration  again  to  adduce  our  Lord's  questions 
as  attempts  to  elicit  information  for  His  own  guid- 
ance :  His  questions  are  often  plainly  dialectical 
or  rhetorical,  or,  like  some  of  His  actions,  solely 
for  the  benefit  of  those  '  that  stood  around.'    It  is 


nient  in  many  cases  of  the  term  yLv6(7Kui,  when 
Evangelists  speak  of  our  Lord's  knowledge,  as  if  it 
were  thereby  implied  that  this  knowledge  was 
freshly  born  in  His  mind  :  the  assumed  distinction, 
but  faintly  marked  in  Greek  literature,  cannot  he 
traced  in  the  usage  of  the  terms  -yvdvai  and  elSivai 
in  their  application  to  our  Lord's  knowledge ;  these 
terms  even  replace  one  another  in  parallel  accounts 
of  the  same  instance  (Mt  22i8 1|  Mk  12'= ;  [Mt  9^]  ||  Mk 
f,  Lk  522;  cf  jit  i225_  Lk  68  Q"  11",  Jn  6«) ;  yyS,vo.L 
is  used  of  the  undoubted  Divine  knowledge  of  our 
Lord  ([Mt  11-^5]  Lk  1022,  Jn  10'=  17=»,  Mt  T^;  cf.  Jn 
2SJ.  25  542  iQU.  27)  .  and  indeed  of  the  knowledge  of 
God  Himself  (Lk  lO^^  16«,  Jn  10'-^  [Mt  IV"]) :  and, 
in  any  event,  there  is  a  distinction  which  in  such 
nice  inquiries  should  not  be  neglected,  between 
saying  that  the  occurrence  of  an  event,  being  per- 
ceived, was  the  occasion  of  an  action,  and  saying 
that  knowledge  of  the  event,  perceived  as  occur- 
ring, waited  on  its  occurrence.  Gravely  vitiated  by 
such  exaggerations  as  most  discussions  of  the  sub- 
ject are,  enough  remains,  however,  after  all  ex- 
aggeration is  pruned  away,  to  assure  us,  not  indeed 
that  our  Lord's  life  on  earth  was,  in  tlie  view  of 
the  Evangelists,  an  exclusively  human  one  ;  or  that. 


apart  from  the  constant  exercise  of  His  will  to 
make  it  such,  it  was  controlled  by  the  limitations  of 
humanity ;  but  certainly  that  it  was,  in  their  view, 
lived  out,  so  far  as  was  consistent  with  the  fulfil- 
ment of  the  mission  for  which  He  came — and  as  an 
indispensable  condition  of  the  fulfilment  of  that 
mission — under  the  limitations  belonging  to  a 
purely  human  life.  The  classical  passages  in  this 
reference  are  those  striking  statements  in  the 
second  chapter  of  Luke  (2*- ''-)  in  which  is  summed 
up  our  Lord's  growth  from  infancy  to  manhood, 
including,  of  course,  His  intellectual  development 
(cf.  art.  Children,  jj.  302),  and  His  own  remark- 
able declaration  recorded  in  Mt  24**,  Mk  13^-'^  in 
which  He  affirms  His  ignorance  of  the  day  and 
hour  of  His  return  to  earth.  Supplemented  by 
their  general  dramatization  of  His  life  within  the 
range  of  the  purely  human,  these  passages  are 
enough  to  assure  us  that  in  the  view  of  the  Evan- 
gelists there  was  in  our  Lord  a  purely  human  soul, 
which  bore  its  own  proper  part  in  His  life,  and 
which,  as  human  souls  do,  grew  in  knowledge  as  it 
grew  in  wisdom  and  grace,  and  remained  to  the 
end,  as  human  souls  must,  ignorant  of  many 
things, — nay,  which,  because  human  souls  are 
finite,  must  ever  be  ignorant  of  much  embraced  in 
the  universal  vision  of  the  Divine  Spirit.  We  may 
wonder  why  the  '  day  and  hour '  of  His  own  return 
should  remain  among  the  things  of  which  our 
Lord's  human  soul  continued  ignorant  throughout 
His  earthly  life.  But  this  is  a  matter  about 
which  surely  we  need  not  much  concern  ourselves. 
We  can  never  do  more  than  vaguely  guess  at  the 
law  which  governs  the  inclusions  and  exclusions 
which  characterize  the  knowledge-contents  of  any 
human  mind,  limited  as  human  minds  are  not  only 
qualitatively  but  quantitatively ;  and  least  of  all 
could  we  hope  to  penetrate  the  principle  of  selec- 
tion in  the  case  of  the  perfect  human  intelligence 
of  our  Lord  ;  nor  have  the  Evangelists  hinted  their 
view  of  the  matter.  We  must  just  be  content  to 
recognize  that  we  are  face  to  face  here  with  the 
mystery  of  the  Two  Natures,  which,  although 
they  do  not,  of  course,  formally  enunciate  the 
doctrine  in  so  many  words,  the  Evangelists  yet 
efl'ectively  teach,  since  by  it  alone  can  consistency 
be  induced  between  the  two  classes  of  facts  whieli 
they  present  unhesitatingly  in  their  narratives. 
Only,  if  we  would  do  justice  to  their  presentation, 
we  must  take  clear  note  of  two  of  its  character- 
istics. They  do  not  simply,  in  separated  portions 
of  their  narratives,  adduce  the  facts  which  mani- 
fest our  Lord's  Divine  powers  and  His  human 
characteristics,  but  interlace  them  inextricably 
in  the  same  sections  of  the  narratives.  And 
they  do  not  subject  the  Divine  that  is  in  Christ 
to  the  limitations  of  the  human,  but  quite  deci- 
sively present  the  Divine  as  dominating  all,  and 
as  giving  play  to  the  human  only  by  a  constant, 
voluntary  withholding  of  its  full  manifestation  in 
the  interests  of  the  task  undertaken.  Observe  the 
story,  for  example,  in  Jn  11,  which  Dr.  Mason 
{Conditions,  etc.  p.  143)  justly  speaks  of  as  'indeed 
a  marvellous  weaving  togetlier  of  that  which  is 
natural  and  that  which  is  above  nature.'  'Jesus 
learns  from  others  that  Lazarus  is  sick,  but  knows 
without  any  further  message  that  Lazarus  is  dead  j 
He  weeiis  and  groans  at  the  sight  of  the  sorrow 
which  surrounds  Him,  yet  calmly  gives  thanks  for 
the  accomplishment  of  the  miracle  before  it  has 
))een  accomplished.'  This  conjunction  of  the  two 
elements  is  typical  of  the  whole  Evangelical  narra- 
tive. As  portrayed  in  it  our  Lord's  life  is  distinctly 
duplex  ;  and  can  be  consistently  construed  only  by 
the  help  of  the  conception  of  the  Two  Natures. 
And  just  as  distinctly  is  this  life  portrayed  in 
these  narratives  as  receiWng  its  determination  not 
from  the  human,  but  from  the  Divine  side.    If  what 


612 


FOEESIGHT 


FOEESIGHT 


Jolin  undertakes  to  depict  is  what  was  said  and 
done  by  the  incarnated  Word,  no  less  what  the 
Synoptics  essay  is  to  present  the  Gospel  (as  Mark 

Suts  it)  of  Jesus  Christ  the  Son  of  God.  It  is 
istinctly  a  supernatural  life  that  He  is  repre- 
sented by  them  all  as  liWng  ;  and  the  human  aspect 
of  it  is  treated  by  each  alike  as  an  incident  in 
something  more  exalted,  by  which  it  is  permitted, 
rather  than  on  wliicli  it  'iinposes  itself.  Though 
passed  as  far  a>  w;i-;  bclitlinu  within  the  limits  of 
humanity,  tbi^  liir  ifiuains  :a  all  times  the  life  of 
God  manifest  in  tlie  lle>h,  and,  as  depicted  by  the 
Evangelists,  never  escapes  beyond  the  boundaries 
set  by  what  was  suitable  to  it  as  such. 

The  actual  instances  of  our  Lord's  foresight 
which  are  recorded  by  the  Evangelists  are  not  very 
numerous  outside  of  those  which  concern  the  estab- 
lishment of  the  Kingdom  of  God,  with  which  alone, 
of  course,  their  narratives  are  particularly  en- 
gaged. Even  the  few  instances  of  specific  exhibi- 
tions of  foreknowledge  of  what  we  may  call  trivial 
events  owe  their  record  to  some  connexion  with 
this  great  work.  Examples  are  afforded  by  the 
foresight  that  the  casting  of  the  nets  at  the  'exact 
time  and  place  indicated  by  our  Lord  would  secure 
a  draught  of  fishes  (Lk  5*,  cf.  Jn  21") ;  that  the 
first  fish  that  Peter  would  take  when  he  tlirew  his 
hook  into  the  sea  would  be  one  which  had  swallowed 
a  stater  (Mt  17") ;  that  on  entering  a  given  village 
the  disciples  should  find  an  ass  tied,  and  a  colt  >nth 
it,  whose  o^vners  would  be  obedient  to  our  Lord's 
request  {Mt  21-  ||) ;  and  tliat  on  entering  Jeru- 
.salem  to  make  ready  for  the  final  passovcr-feast 
they  should  meet  a  man  bearing  a  pitc!;cr,  pre- 
pared to  serve  the  Master's  needs  (Mk  14'^).  In  in- 
stances like  these  the  interlacing  of  prevision  and 
provision  is  very  intimate,  and  doubt  arises  whether 
they  illustrate  most  distinctly  our  Lord's  Divine  fore- 
sight or  His  control  of  events.  In  other  instances 
the  element  of  foresight  comes,  perhaps,  more 
purely  forward  :  such  are  possibly  the  predictions 
of  the  offence  of  tlie  disciples  Olt^G''  ),  the  denial 
nf  Peter  {2^^'').  and  Oi.-  tv-i.-li-vy  of  Judas  (26-i  ||). 

'riiiTf  may  bf  adili'il  i  !:.■  "  'i..! '  ^-^  uf  utterances 

in  "  hirli  .)ur  I.i.nl  -h-"  -      -  ■' i i -ive  foresight 

,.ttlii-  .arecr  ..f  th..-,.  v,  i„„n  1|.-  -,, lied  to  His  ser- 
vice lilt  4'-'  lu'"-  -'  2u-  i;4  •,  Ju  16-  ■) ;  and  also  tliat 
other  series  in  which  He  exhibits  a  like  full  fore- 
knowledge of  the  entire  history  of  tlie  Kingdom  of 
God  in  the  world  (cf.  esp.  the  parables  of  the 
Kingdom,  and  such  passages  as  Mt  16^'  24^-  -*  21-" 
24"  26",  Lk  19",  Jn  14'8- 1»).  It  is,  however,  par- 
ticularly with  reference  to  His  own  work  in  estab- 
lishing the  Kin.i;dom,  and  in  regard  to  the  nature 
of  lb  !  I'-il^.  iliiii  11---  i-  particularly  laid  upon 
till'''  11  •  Iviiowledge.    Hisentire 

can  <  -  represented  by  all  the 

Evan.  :,  -  ..-  lull.'  1-1. inly  before  Him  from  the 
beginning,  with  evei-y  detail  clearly  marked  and 
provided  for.  It  is  especially,  however,  -with  refer- 
ence to  the  three  great  events  in  which  His  work 
in  establishing  His  Kingdom  is  summed  up — His 
death.  His  resurrection,  His  return — that  the  pre- 
dictions become  numerous,  if  we  may  not  even  say 
constant.  Each  of  the  Evangelists  rejfresents  Him, 
for  example,  as  foreseeing  His  death  from  the  start 
(Jn2i9  3»,  Mt  12«  9",  Mk  2'',  Lk  12«5"  ;  cf.  Meyer 
on  Mt  9'=  16=1 .  AVeiss  on  Mk  8"  ;  Denney,  Death  of 
Christ,  p.  18  ;  '\\Te<Xe,Messiasgeheimnis,  p.  19,  etc.), 
and  as  so  ordering  His  life  as  to  march  steadfastly 
forward  to  it  as  its  chosen  climax  (cf.  c.ff.  AVrede, 
p.  84 :  '  It  is  accordingly  the  meaning  of  jlark  that 
Jesus  journeys  to  Jerusalem  because  it  is  His  will  to 
die  there ').  He  is  represented,  therefore,  as  avoid- 
ing all  that  could  lead  up  to  it  for  a  time,  and  then, 
«lien  He  was  ready  for  it,  as  setting  Himself  stead- 
fastly to  bring  it  about  as  He  would ;  as  speaking  of 
it  only  guardedly  at  first,  and  afterwards,  when  the 


Lk  13«  17'-s,  Mt  aol" 


time  was  ripe  for  it,  as  .setting  about  assiduously  to 
lirc[iare  His  disciples  for  it.  Similarly  -with  respect 
to  His  resuiTection,  He  is  reported  as  having  it  in 
mind,  indeed,  from  the  earliest  days  of  His  ministry 
(Jn  2'^  .Mt  la*"  16-',  Mk  8".  Lk  9-),  but  adverting 
to  it  with  paedagogical  care,  so  as  to  prepare  rather 
than  confuse  the  minds  of  His  disciples.  The 
same  in  substance  may  be  said  ^rith  reference  to 
His  return  (Mt  10=^  16-^  Mk  8»*  9\  Lk  9'*-  "). 

A  survey  in  chronological  order  of  the  passages 
in  which  He  is  reported  as  speaking  of  these  three 
great  events  of  the  future,  cannot  fail  to  leave  a 
distinct  impression  on  the  mind  not  only  of  the 
large  space  they  occupy  in  the  Evangelical  narra- 
tive, but  of  the  great  place  they  take  as  foreseen, 
according  to  that  narrative,  in  the  life  and  work  of 
our  Lord.  In  the  following  list  the  passages  in 
which  He  adverts  to  His  death  stand  in  the  order 
given  them  in  Robinson's  Hnmirynij  of  the  Gospels : 

Jn2i9  3iJ,  Mtl2»(Lf.  ■•:,  I,V.  -■" ■•    T-'OIkSil, 

Lk534),  JnO"'!  Tits,  Mt  n    I  -^1  Mt  171V  (Mk 

'•=),  Mt  ir=!-23(Mk  1 

~" Ml  202«(Mk 

.Mt  a.-'  C.Mkl427',Jn 
),  Lk  U-^  *i. 

The  following  allusions  to  His  resurrection  are 
in  the  same  order : 


The  following  are,  in  like  order,  the  allu 
His  return : 


(Mk  1462,  Lk  2269). 

The  most  cursory  examination  of  these  series  of 
passages  in  their  setting,  and  especially  in  their 
distribution  through  the  Evangelical  narrative,  will 
evince  the  cardinal  place  whicli  the  eschatological 
element  takes  in  the  life  of  the*Lord  as  depicted 
in  the  Gospels.  In  particular,  it  will  be  impossible 
to  escape  the  conviction  that  it  is  distinctly  the 
teachin"  of  the  Evangelists  that  Jesus  came  into 
the  world  specifically  to  die,  and  ordered  His  whole 
life  wittingly  to  that  end.  As  Dr.  Dennej  puts  it 
(expounding  Jn  10",  on  which  see  also  "\\  estcott's 
note),  '  Christ's  death  is  not  an  incident  of  His 
life,  it  is  the  aim  of  it.  The  laying  down  of  His 
life  is  not  an  accident  in  His  career,  it  is  His  voca- 
tion ;  it  is  that  in  which  the  Di\Tne  purpose  of 
His  life  is  revealed.'  'If  there  was  a  period  in 
His  life  during  which  He  had  other  thoughts,  it  is 
antecedent  to  that  at  wliicli  we  have  any  know- 
ledge of  Him '  {Death  of  Christ,  pp.  259  and  18). 
Notliing  could  therefore  be  more  at  odds  with 
the  consentient  and  constant  rejjresentations  of  I  he 
Evangelists  than  to  speak  of  the  '  shadow  of  the 
cross '  as  only  somewhat  late  in  His  history  begin- 
ning to  fall  athwart  our  Lord's  ])athway ;  of  the 
idea  that  His  eartlily  career  should  close  in  gloom 
as  'distinctly  emerging  in  the  teaching  of  Jesus 
only  at  a  comparatively  late  period,'  and  as  there- 
fore presuinal.1v  imt  eailier  'ili-ar  in  His  mind': 
unless,  in«l..,!,  ii  !„■  t]ie  a.  c..ni]ianying  more  general 
judgment  thai  ■ilieie  v.a^  imthing  extraordinary 
or  supernatural  ia  Je.>u»'  foreknowledge  of  His 
death,'  and  that '  His  prophecy  was  but  the  expres- 
sion of  a  mind  which  knew  that  it  could  not  cease  to 
be  obedient  while  His  enemies  would  not  cease  to 
be  hostile '  (A.  M.  Fairbairn,  The  Expositor,  1897,  i. ; 
V.  iv.  [1896]  283,  285).  It  is  not  less  unwarranted 
to  speak  of  Him  as  bowing  to  His  fate  only  '  as  the 
will  of  God,  to  which  He  yielded  Himself  up  to 
the  very  end  only  with  difficulty,  and  at  best  against 
His  will '  ( Wemle,  Stjnopt.  Fr'age,  200). 

Such  expressions  as  these,  however,  advise  us 
that  a  very  different  conception  from  that  presented 
by  tlie  Evangelists  has  found  widespread  accept- 


FOEESIGHT 


FORESIGHT 


613 


ance  among  a  class  of  modern  scholars,  whose 
efforts  have  been  devoted  to  giving  to  our  Lord  s 
life  on  earth  a  character  more  normally  luimaii 
than  it  seems  to  possess  as  it  lies  on  the  pages  ot 
the  Evangelists.  The  negative  principle  of  the 
new  constructions  ottered  of  the  course  ami 
springs  of  our  Lord's  career  being  rejection  of  the 
account  given  by  the  Evangelists,  these  scholars 
are  thrown  back  for  guidance  very  much  upon 
their  own  subjective  estimate  of  probabilities.  1  he 
Gospels  are,  however,  the  sole  sources  of  information 
for  the  events  of  our  Lord's  life,  and  it  is  impossible 
to  decline  their  aid  altogether.  Few,  accordingly, 
have  been  able  to  discard  entirely  the  general 
framework  of  the  life  of  Christ  they  present  (for 
those  who  are  inclined  to  represent  Jesus  as  making 
no  claim  even  to  be  the  Messiah,  see  H.  Holtzmann, 
NT  Theol.  i.  280,  note  ;  Meinhold  as  there  referred 
to-  and  Wrede,  Das  31essiast)chci»inis,  especially 
Appendix  vii.).  Most  have  derived  enough  from 
the  Gospels  to  assume  that  a  crisis  of  some  sort 
occurred  at  C.-esarea  Philippi,  where  the  Evangelists 
represent  our  Lord  as  beginning  formally  and 
frankly  to  prepare  His  disciple-  '-  "-  -i"-^'^  '^^ 
16='  II). 

Great  differences  arise  at  once  hon  < 


thickly  the  clouds  gatliered  over  His  head,  ii.  incxtinfimshaWe 
hope  in  God  and  His  interposition  in  His  behalf  (ef.  the  brief 
general  sketch  of  opinions  in  Wrede,  Mesniasgeheimnis,  p.  86). 

Thus,  over-against  the  'dogmatic'  view  of  the 
life  cif  riirist,  set  forth  in  the  Evangelists,  accord- 
iiiu  tci  w  hull  .Jesus  came  into  the  world  to  die,  and 
N\  hiih  is  (l.iminated,  therefore,  by_  foresight,  is  set, 
in  polar  i.|iiiosition  to  it,  a  new  view,  calling  itself 
'  historical,"  the  principle  of  which  is  the  denial  to 
Jesus  of  any  foresight  whatever  beyond  the  most 
limited  human  forecast.  No  pretence  is  ordinarily 
made  that  this  new  view  is  given  support  by 
the  Evangelical  records;  it  is  put  forward  on  a 
priori  or  general  grounds— as,  for  example,  the 
only  psychologically  possible  view  {e.</.  Scliwartz- 
kopff,  Praphecies  of  Christ,  p.  28;  cf.  Denney, 
Death  of  Christ,  p.  11,  and  especially  the  just 
strictures  of  Wrede,  Messiasgchcimnis,  pp.  2,  3). 
It  professes  to  find  it  incredible  that  Jesus  entered 
upon  His  ministry  with  any  other  expectation  than 
Contact  with  men,   however,   it  allows, 


for  His  death  (Mt 


m  tl( 


iswillintt  to  believe  He  suspected  II 
earlier,  and  supposes  that  He  i  o\v  f  r 
self  such;  P.  W.  Schmidt  and  Lob 
day  He  both  put  the  Messianic  cro^ 
death  looming  in  His  path;  Weizsickci 
He  thought  and  proclaimed  Himselt  tl  e 

ginning,  and  suppose  that  what  s  ne  v  here  is  that  onlv  now 
Sid  He  come  to  see  with  clearness  that  H  s  mm  strv  would  end 
in  His  death,— and  as  death  for  the  Mes  lah  means  ret  irn  they 
add  that  here  He  begins  His  proclamation  of  His  return  in  glorj . 
To  this  Schenkel  and  Hase  find  difficulty  in  assenting,  feeling 
it  impossible  that  the  Founder  of  a  spiritual  kingdom  should 
look  forward  to  its  consummation  in  a  physical  one,  and  in- 
sisting, therefore,  that  though  Jesus  may  well  have  predicted 
the  destruction  of  His  enemies,  He  can  scarcely  have  foretold 
His  own  coming  in  glory.  On  the  other  hand,  Strauss  and  Kaur 
judge  that  a  predictio'n  of  the  destruction  of  Jerusalem  too 
closely  resembles  what  actually  occurred  not  to  be  post  erentinn, 
but  see  no  reason  why  Jesus  should  not  have  dreamed  of  comiii- 
back  on  the  clouds  of  heaven.  As  to  His  death,  Strauss  tluiil.^ 
He  began  to  anticipate  it  only  shortly  before  His  last  jourm  y  I  '■ 
Jerusalem  ;  while  Holsten  cannot  believe  that  He  realized  «  li  n 
was  before  Him  until  He  actually  arrived  at  Jerusalem,  :.".l 
even  then  did  not  acquiesce  in  it  (so  Spitta).  That  He  wini  i  ■ 
Jerusalem  for  the  purpose  of  dying,  neither  Weizs.ackcr,  n'  r 
Brandt,  nor  H.  Holtzmann,  nor  Schultzen  will  admit,  tlion  ;l 
the  two  last  named  allow  that  He  foresaw  that  the  J™"ii. 
would  end  in  His  death ;  or  at  least  that  it  possibly  woulil,  ;m  1. 1  - 
Plinier,  since,  of  course,  a  possibility  of  success  lay  opni  L. 
Himfcf.  H.  Holtzmann,  NT  Theol.  i.  285-286,  note).  Aa  iniun 
men,  so  many  opinions.  As  the  positive  principle  of  coii-^hn. 
tion  in  all  these  schemes  of  life  for  Jesus  is  desupernatuin  i  ;, 
Hon,  they  differ,  so  far  as  the  prophetic  element  in  His  tea  c  1 1 1 1 1  j 
as  reported  by  the  Evangelists  is  concerned,  chiefly  '".  "|' 
to  the  Evangelists  car'rving  their  own  ideas,  or  the  ideas,  if  lli. 
community  in  which  they  lived,  back  into  Jesus'  moulli  :  ■  i 
allow  it  more  or  less  fully  to  Jesus,  indeed,  but  only  in  .i  l^ni 
which  can  be  thought  of  as  not  rising  above  the  natural  v'"- 
nostications  of  a  man  in  His  position.  A  few  deny  to  Jcsiis  i  In 
entire  series  of  predictions  reported  in  the  Gospels,  and  asM-i 
them  in  mass  to  the  thought  of  the  later  community  (■  / 
Eichhom,  Wrede).  A  few,  on  the  other  hand,  allow  the  w  Iml. 
or  nearly  the  whole,  series  to  Jesus,  and  explain  thciii  :il 
naturalistically.  Most  take  an  interiiiediate  position,  deter 
mined  by  the  principle  that  all  whic" 
incapable  of   naturalistic  explanation 

shall  be  assigned  to  later  origin.     Accordi   _  .  ,     .    , 

details  in  the  alleged  predictions  are  quite  generally  denied 
Jesus,  and  represented  as  easily  explicable  modifications,  m 
accordance  witn  the  actual  course  of  events,  of  what  Jesi 
said.    The  prediction  of  resurrection  on  the  third  day 
ample,  ia  held  by  many  («.?.  _Schwartzkopff)_  to  be  too  preoi: 


*  really 


determination, 

or  explained  as  only  a  pe: 

after  the  analogy  of  Hos 

prediction 


therefore 


eluded  from  the  prophecy, 
for  an  indefinite  short  time, 
en  B.  Weiss).  To  others  a 
seems  incredible  (Strauss, 

Schenkel,  Weizsacker,  Keim,  Brandt),  and  it  is  transmuted  into, 

at  most,  a  premonition  of  future  victory. 

Holsten)  even  the  anticipation  of  death  is  d 

of  forecast  is  left  to  Jesus  except,  possibly, 

of  difficulty  and  suffering ;  while  with  ot 

way,  and  Jesus  ia  represented  as  passint 

part  of  His  life  (Fairbairn),  or  the  whole  of 

tion  of  more  or  less  unbroken  success, 


\et  other 


brought  gradually  the  discovery  of  the  hopeh 
ness  of  drawing  them  to  His  spiritual  ideals ;  the 
growing  enmity  of  the  rulers  opened  before  Him 
the  prospect  of  disaster ;  and  thus  there  came  to 
Him  the  slow  recognition,  first  of  the  possibility, 
m  1  then  of  the  certainty,  of  failure  ;  or,  at  least, 
f  iluie  was  impossible  f<iv  tlie  imssum  He 
1  I  t  peiform,  of  tin'  ii.r.-^iiy  ..I  passing 
1  I       ilieun^   to   the   ulliin.ilr    Mir, ess.      So 

I  l\  \  IS  the  rexdjustment  to  lliis  lll■^^  ("lint  of 
\RV\  intde  that  even  at  the  end— as  the  prayer  at 
Gethsemane  shows  — there  remained  a  lingering 
hope  that  the  extremity  of  death  might  be  avoided. 
So  far  as  a  general  sketch  can  be  made  of  a  view 
presented  by  its  several  adherents  with  great  variety 
of  detail,  this  is  the  essential  fabric  of  the  new 
view  (cf.  the  general  statements  of  Kiihler,  Zur 
Lehrc  von  dcr  Vcrsohnung,  159  ;  Denney,  Death  of 
Christ,  11;  Wrede,  Messiasr/r/iciiunis,  SO).  Only 
such  parts  of  the  predictive  element  of  the  teach- 
ing attributed  to  Jesus  in  the  Gospels  as  are 
thmiglit  capable  of  naturalistic  interpretation  are 
inroi  |iurated  into  this  new  construction.  By  those 
«  li..  \\  i>li  to  bring  in  as  much  as  possible,  it  is  said, 
lor  ixaiujile,  that  our  Lord  v.as  too  firmly  pcr- 
-11,1. Ir, I  iif  His  Messianic  appointment  and  function, 
:Mhl  \\.i~  1(10  clear  that  this  function  centred  in  the 
.■  I  111. iilnnent  of  the  Kingdom,  to  accept  death  itself 
II-  I II 1 1  111...  When  He  perceived  death  impending, 
Ih.il  III,  lint  to  Him,  therofore,  return;  and  return 
I,,  \niiri  in  111..  Mi'^siaiiir  ulory  meant  resurrection. 
W  Ii,„  ll,.  II, on.. Ill  iin.l  >'|ioke  of  death,  therefore, 
II,.  11,.,  ,--,arily  tliom^hl  and  spoke  also  of  resurrec- 
li,,ii  1111,1  return;  the  three  went  inevitably  to- 
.,ili,.i  ;  and  if  He  anticipated  tiie  one,  He  must 
liiiMiinlicipatedtheothersalso.  Under  this  general 
-,li,iii,.  all  sorts  of  opinions  are  held  as  to  when, 
li,,\v,  an,!  un.lor  what  impulses  Jesus  formed  and 
lainjlil  I  liis  ,.^,liatological  programme.    As  notable 

II  ,,.n-tni,ti,>n  ii<  any  holds  that  He  first  became 
cortain  of  His  Messiahship  in  an  ecstatic  vision 
which  accompanied  His  baptism  ;  that  the  Messiah 
must  suffer  was  already  borne  in  upon  His  convic- 
tion in  the  course  of  His  temptation ;  but  it  -vvas 
not  until  the  scene  at  Ca;sarea  Philippi  that  He 
attained  the  happy  assurance  that  tli,'  M,-.-iiinic 
glory  lay  behind  the  dreadful  death  iiiii..'n.lin-  ,.\  .o- 
Him.  This  great  conviction,  attain! '.1  in  ).i  in.  i].lo 
in  tbe  pcstasv  of  that  moment,  was,  ii,\  ,tI  In  !'■  -, 
only  ..^rinlnailv  assimilated.  Wlmn  .Iomi-  uhs 
lali'onrin.4  «ilii  His  disciples.  He  xmi-  liiLonrm- 
also  witli  Ilinisi'lf.  In  this  particuliii  ...n  1 1  n,  I  wn 
(it  is  U.  Iloltzmaiin's)  an  element  ol    SmMiisv     is 

introduced;  more  commonly  tho  ;   ' 

Mipposed  to  make  in  His  antic'i]ial 

','   ,  lo  rest  on  processes  of  formal  roii-' 
cr  '  case.  He  is  pictured  as  only  slow  ly 


iiro  thought 

In  either 

icr  the  stress 


614 


FORESIGHT 


FORESIGHT 


of  compelling  ciicunistances,  reach ing  convictions 
of  what  awaited  Him  in  the  future ;  and  thus  He 
is  conceived  distinctly  as  the  victim  rather  than  as 
the  Lord  of  His  destiny.  So  far  from  entering 
the  world  to  die,  and  by  His  death  to  save  the 
world,  and  in  His  own  good  time  and  way  accom- 
plishing this  great  mission,  He  enters  life  set  upon 
living,  and  only  yields  step  by  step  reluctantly  to 
the  hard  fate  which  inexorably  closes  upon  Him. 
That  He  clings  through  all  to  HLs  conviction  of 
His  Messiahship,  and  adjusts  His  hope  of  accom- 
plishing His  Jlessianic  mission  to  the  overmastering 
pressure  of  circumstances, — is  that  not  a  pathetic 
trait  of  human  nature?  Do  not  all  enthusiasts 
the  like?  Is  it  not  precisely  the  mark  of  their 
fanaticism  ?  The  plain  fact  is,  if  we  may  express 
it  in  the  brutal  frankness  of  common  speech,  in 
this  view  of  Jesus'  career  He  miscalculated  and 
failed  ;  and  then  naturally  sought  (or  His  followers 
sought  for  Him)  to  save  the  faUure  (or  the  appear- 
ance of  failure)  by  inventin"  a  new  denouement  for 
the  career  He  had  hoped  for  in  vain,  a  new  de- 
nouement which — has  it  failed  too  ?  Most  of  our 
modern  theorizers  are  impelled  to  recognize  that  it 
too  has  failed.  When  Jesus  so  painfully  adjusted 
Himself  to  the  hard  destiny  which  more  and  more 
obtruded  itself  upon  His  recognition,  He  taught 
that  death  was  but  an  incident  in  His  career,  and 
after  death  would  come  the  victory.  Can  we  be- 
lieve that  He  foresixw  that  thousands  of  years 
would  intervene  between  what  He  represented  as 
but  an  apparent  catastrophe  and  tlie  glorious 
reversal  to  which  He  directed  His  own  and  His 
followers'  eyes  ?  On  the  contrary.  He  expected  and 
He  taught  tliat  He  would  come  back  soon^-cer- 
tainly  before  the  generation  which  had  witnessed 
His  apparent  defeat  liad  passed  away ;  and  that 
He  woukl  then  establish  that  Messianic  Kingdom 
which  from  the  beginning  of  His  ministry  He  had 
unvaryingly  taught  was  at  hand.  He  did  not 
do  so.  Is  there  any  reason  to  believe  that  He 
ever  will  return  ?  Can  the  '  foresight '  which  has 
repeatedly  failed  so  miserably  be  trusted  still, — 
for  what  we  choose  to  separate  out  from  the 
mass  of  His  expectations  as  the  core  of  the 
matter?  On  what  grounds  shall  we  adjust 
the  discredited  '  foresight '  to  the  course  of  events, 
obviously  unforeseen  by  Him,  since  His  death? 
Where  is  the  end  of  these  '  adjustments '  ?  Have 
we  not  already  with  'adjustment'  after  'adjust- 
ment' transformed  beyond  recognition  the  expecta- 
tions of  Jesus,  even  the  latest  and  fullest  to  which 
He  attained,  and  transmuted  them  into  something 
fundamentally  different, — passed,  in  a  word,  so  far 
beyond  Him,  that  we  retain  only  an  artificial 
connexion  with  Him  and  His  real  teacliing,  a  con- 
nexion mediated  by  little  more  than  a  word  ? 

That  in  this  modem  construction  we  liave  the 
precise  contradictory  of  the  conception  of  Jesus 
and  of  the  course  of  His  life  on  earth  given  us  by 
the  Evangelists,  it  needs  no  argument  to  establish. 
In  the  Gospel  presentation,  foresight  is  made  the 
principle  of  our  Lord's  career.  In  the  modem 
view  He  is  credited  with  no  foresight  whatever. 
At  best.  He  was  possessed  by  a  fixed  conviction  of 
His  Messianic  mission,  wliether  gained  in  ecstatic 
vision  (as,  e.g.,  O.  Holtzmann)  or  acquired  in  deep 
religious  experiences  (as,  e.g.,  SchwartzkopfD  ;  and 
He  felt  an  assurance,  based  on  this  ineradicable 
conviction,  that  in  His  own  good  time  and  way 
God  would  work  that  mission  out  for  Him  ;  and  in 
this  assurance  He  went  faithfully  onward  fiilfilling 
His  daily  task,  bungling  meanwliile  egregiously 
in  His  reading  of  tlie  scroll  of  de.stiny  which  was 
unrolling  for  Him.  It  is  an  intensely,  even  an 
exaggeratedly,  human  Christ  which  is  here  offered 
us:  an<l  He  stands,  therefore,  in  the  strongest 
contrast  with  the  frankly  Divine  Christ  which  tlie 


Gospels  present  to  us.  On  wl 
be  expected  to  substitute  this  i 
not  on  grounds  of  historical  i 
historical  record  of  the  self-i 


\V. 


ertainly 
)  liave  no 
of  Jesus 


except  that  embodied  in  the  Gospel  dramatization 
of  His  life  and  the  Gospel  report  of  His  teaching  ; 
and  that  record  expressly  contradicts  at  every  step 
this  modern  reconstruction  of  its  contents  and 
development.  The  very  principle  of  the  modern 
construction  is  reversal  of  the  Gospel  delineation. 
Its  peculiarity  is  that,  though  it  calls  itself  the 
'  historical '  view,  it  has  behind  it  no  single  scrap 
of  historical  testimony  ;  the  entirety  of  historicju 
evidence  contradicts  it  flatly.  Are  we  to  accept  it, 
then,  on  the  general  grounds  of  inherent  pro- 
bability and  rational  construction  ?  It  is  historic- 
ally impossible  that  the  great  religious  movement 
which  we  call  Christianity  could  have  taken  its 
origin  and  derived  its  inspiration — an  inspiration 
far  from  spent  after  two  thousand  years— from 
such  a  figure  as  this  Jesus.  The  plain  fact  is  that 
in  these  modem  reconstructions  we  have  nothing 
but  a  sustained  attempt  to  construct  a  naturalistic 
Jesus ;  and  their  chief  interest  is  that  thej^  bring 
before  us  with  unwonted  clearness  the  kind  of 
being  the  man  must  have  been  who  at  that  time 
and  in  those  circumstances  could  have  come  for- 
ward making  the  claims  which  Jesus  made  without 
supernatural  nature,  endowment,  or  aid  to  sustain 
Him.  The  value  of  the  speculation  is  that  it 
makes  superabundantly  clear  that  no  such  bein" 
could  have  occupied  the  place  which  the  historical 
Jesus  occupied  ;  could  have  made  the  impression 
on  His  followers  which  the  historical  Jesus  made  ; 
could  have  become  the  source  of  the  stream  of  re- 
ligious influence  which  we  call  Christianity,  as  the 
historical  Jesus  became.  The  clear  foraiulation 
of  the  naturalistic  hypothesis,  in  the  construction 
of  a  naturalistic  Jesus,  in  other  words,  throws  us 
violently  back  upon  the  Divine  Jesus  of  the  Evan- 
gelists as  the  only  Jesus  that  is  historically  jios- 
sible.  From  this  point  of  view,  the  labours  of  the 
scholars  who  have  with  infinite  pains  built  up  this 
construction  of  Jesus'  life  and  development  have 
not  been  in  vain. 

What,  then,  is  to  be  said  of  the  predictions  of 
Jesus,  and  especially  of  the  three  great  series  of 
prophecies  of  His  death,  resurrection,  and  return, 
with,  respect  to  their  contents  and  fulfilment  ? 
This  is  not  the  place  to  discuss  the  eschatology  of 
Jesus.  But  a  few  general  remarks  seem  not  un- 
called for.  The  topic  has  received  of  late  mnch 
renewed  attention  with  very  varied  results,  the 
number  and  varietj;  of  constructions  proposed 
having  been  greatly  increased  above  what  the  in- 
herent difficnUy  of  the  subject  will  account  for,  by 
the  freedom  with  which  the  Scripture  data  have 
been  modified  or  set  aside  on  so-called  critical 
grounds  by  the  several  investigators.  Nevertheless, 
most  of  the  new  interpretations  also  may  be  classi- 
fied under  the  old  categories  of  futuristic,  preter- 
istic,  and  spiritualistic. 

The  spiritualistic  Intorpretation— whose  method  of  dealinfc 
with  our  Lord's  predictions  readily  falls  in  with  a  widespread 
theory  that  it  is  '  contrarj-  to  the  spirit  and  manner  of  crenuine 
prophecy  to  predict  actual  circumstanc-is  lik.  n  snothsaicr' 
(Muirhead,  Eschatology  of  Jet^nx.  ]      !        -  i'  ,    / 

phecire  of  Jems  Christ,  78.  250.  J  i 

a  new  impulse  through  its  attr 
Haupt  {EschaMnq.  Amm^fn  Jr. 

olog)-,  sa>-3Ha\iiit,  is  infinitely  s:  1 1  '.■■'■      - 

istobeacrnn;;.  I  I  .nr  rum- 


jrreat  moral  r. 
j  always,  while  n 
I  act'Cp.  lr,7).     AronM 

revival  (Schleiermacli. 

kunftsgedanke  Jem, 

1!K)1)  of  the  identific; 

'  since  its  refutation  by 


FORESIGHT 


FOEGIVENESS 


615 


Christ,  189ft),  whose 
that  by  His  resun-f. 

Jesus  spoke  ot  Hi 


exact  contradictory,  viz. 
nt  just  His  return.  The 
r  Jesus  the  hope  of  resur- 
,  together,'  so  that  *  when 
:is  thinking  of  His  return, 
rttiig  Ekstattker?  67,  note), 
is  very  widely  huM.  ili.  ^nl  -i-lkiry  hypothesis  (first  suggested 
by  Colani)  of  the  in<-lusiun  in  thu  yreat  eschatological  discourse 
attributed  by  the  Evangehsts  to  our  Lord  of  a  'little  Apoca- 
lypse '  of  Jewish  or  Jewish  Christian  origin,  by  which  Weiflfen- 
bach  eased  his  task,  has  in  more  or  less  modified  form  received 
the  widest  acceptance  (cf.  H.  Holtzmann,  N7'  Thcol.  i.  327, 
note),  but  rests  on  no  solid  grounds  (cf.  Weiss,  Beyschlag, 
Haupt,  Clemen).  Most  adherents  of  the  modern  school  are 
clear  that  Jesus  expected  and  asserted  that  He  would  return  in 
Messianic  glory  for  the  consamniatinn  of  the  Kingdom ;  and 

i.  3X2f.)-'  *i"  li"'  ■     ■'■'  ■  ''■'■■■'    '■  ■■     ■■■■    I  ■''    ■!  ''-  ■-■' '   '■■ 

come,'  says  i^^-- '^    n  !■       ■   ■    '    i ■■! 

this  whole  scIhk'I  ..,  ...p..- -.^  {W  ,, ,-  .:...:.-   !.,..j.nu,.,  .   [..  i.:,.i. 

1330,  Mt  102a  he  cnrisi.it-rs  that  the  error  is  ol.vious.  fie  adds, 
*That  such  an  error  on  the  part  of  Jesus  concerning  not  a  side- 
issue  but  a  fundamental  point  of  His  faith,— His  first  proclama- 
tion began,  according  to  Mk  lis,  with  the  TiTXr.faiTx.i  o  xotipo?  xa.) 
inyymiv  -h  iSeta-iKuoc  tou  Oteu, — tloes  not  facilitate  faith  in  Jesus  is 
self-evident ;  but  this  error  of  Jesus  is  for  His  Church  a  highly 
instructive  and  therefore  highly  valuable  warning  to  distin- 
guish between  the  temporary  and  the  permanent  in  the  work 
of  Jesua.*  Not  every  one  even  of  this  school  can  go,  however, 
length. 


I  this  matt*  r 


lecounb  to  think 
Uelonging  to  the 
{The  Prophecies 


Konnte  Jesus 
in  substantial 
p.  205). 


of  the  mere  definition  o 
form  rather  than  to  the 
of  Jesus  Christ,  1895, 
irren  i  1896,  p.  3) ;  and 

From  the  other  side,  E.  B.B,\r^t{Eschatolog.  Ausm<jenJe.su^ 
p.  138  f.)  urges  that  Jesus  must  be  supposed  to  have  been  able 
to  avoid  all  errors,  at  least  in  the  religious  sphere,  even  if  they 
concern  nothin-r  l>nt  tlu-  form:  while  Weiffenbach  (Z>te  Fragc, 
etc.  p.  9)  thinks  w.-  ^liMnl.t  li,  ^itate  to  suppose  Jesus  could 
have  erred  in  Ii.m  i  Imsi  u  .h  limi  lun  of  the  time  of  His  advent, 
when  He  expris^l^  ,  ,mi.  -.  -  Oi.i  He  was  ignorant  of  its  time 
(cf.  Muirhead,  Ksrhat.  i-i  .hsus,  i^-.'.i),  and  esp.  117).  Probably 
Fritz  Barth  {Die  Jhiuptpi-->bicuu-  dcs  Lcbeiis  Jem,  1899,  pp.  167- 
170^  stands  alone  in  cutting  the  knot  by  appealing  to  the  con- 
ditionality  of  all  prophecy.  According  to  him,  Jesus  did,  indeed, 
predict  His  return  as  coincident  with  the  destruction  of  Jeru- 
salem ;  but  all  genuine  prophecy  is  conditioned  upon  the  con- 
duct of  the  human  agents  involved—'  between  prediction  and 
fulfilment  the  conduct  of  man  intrudes  as  a  codetermining 
factor  on  which  the  fulfilment,  depends.'  Thus  this  prediction 
has  not  failed,  but  its  fulfilment  has  only  been  postponed— in 
accordance,  it  must  be  confessed,  not  with  the  will  of  God,  but 
with  that  of  man.  It  is  difficult  to  see  how  Jesus  is  thus 
shielded  from  the  imputation  of  defective  foresight ;  but  at 


rr 


'  still  to  look  for  j 


of  the 


The  difficulty  which  the  passages  in  our  Saviour's 
teaching  under  discussion  present  to  the  reverent 
expositor  is,  of  course,  not  to  he  denied  or  mini- 
mized. But  surely  this  difficulty  would  need  to  he 
much  more  hopeless  than  it  is  hef" ore  it  could  compel 


■  justify  the  assumption  of  error  '  in  One  who 


ipel 
has 


never  been  convicted  of  error  in  anything  else' 
(Sanday  in  Hastings'  DB  ii.  635 — the  whole  passage 
should  be  read).  The  problem  that  faces  us  in  this 
matter,  it  is  apparent,  in  the  meantime,  is  not  one 
which  can  find  its  solution  as  a  corollary  to  a  specu- 
lative general  view  of  our  Lord's  self-consciousness, 
its  contents,  and  development.  It  is  distinctly  a 
problem  of  exegesis.  We  should  lie  very  sure  tliat 
we  know  fully  and  precisely  all  that  our  Lord  has 
declared  about  His  return— its  what  and  how  and 
when — before  we  venture  to  suggest,  even  to  our 
most  intimate  thought,  that  He'has  committed  so 
gross  an  error  as  to  its  what  and  how  and  when  as 
is  so  often  assumed ;  especially  as  He  has  in  the 
most  solemn  manner  declared  concerning  precisely 
the  words  under  consideration  that  heaven  and 
earth  shall  pass  away,  but  not  His  words.  It  would 
he  sad  if  the  passage  of  time  has  shown  this  de- 
claration also  to  be  mistaken.  Meanwhile,  the 
perfect  foresight  of  our  Lord,  asserted  and  illus- 
trated by  all  the  Evangelists,  certainly  cannot  be 
set  .aside  by  the  facile  assumption  of  an  error  on 
His  part  in  a  matter  in  which  it  is  so  difficult  to 
demonstrate  an  error,  and  in  which  assumptions  of 
all  sorts  are  so  little  justified.     For  the  detailed 


discussion  of  our  Lord's  eschatology,  including  the 
determination  of  His  meaning  in  these  utterances, 
reference  must,  however,  be  made  to  works  treat- 
ing expressly  of  this  subject. 

Benjamin  B.  Waefield. 
FORGIVENESS.— 

Three  words  are  \ised  in  the  Gospels  which  are  rendered  in 
Enj,dish  })>■  the  word  '  foryive  '  ■.~a.-raXi.uv,  to  tictfi-a\  once  only. 


in  LkO'";  xa.p.^i<Tti 
noptic  Gospels.    T 


'  fornii 


is  found 

trespasses' being  eitli<  I    !■    i    i     i  imiilied. 

In  the  treatmeiil  oi  iIm  -ul.jnt  in  this  article 
three  things  must  lie  bcirnc  in  mind.  First,  that 
the  words  employed  by  Christ  and  the  ideas  they 
ri'jiresent  are  not  entirely  new  as  they  come  from 
His  lips.  Our  Lord  presupposes  and  then  j^uts 
His  own  characteristic  impress  upon  a  doctrine 
of  forgiveness  with  which  His  hearers  were  for 
the  most  part  familiar,  and  x\luch  for  us  is  em- 
bodied in  the  OT.  Srroii(//i/,  that  no  complete 
stu.ly  of  ('liiisls  (.■.icliiii;;  concerning  forgiveness 
can  111'  ihihI.',  iiiiI.~-  ..iIiit  words,  such  as  'save,' 
'JMslily,  ;inil  '  (  liMii-r,'  ure  taken  into  accoiint, 
and  the  wliule  suhjuct  of  release  from  tlic  guilt 
and  bondage  of  sin,  as  promised  by  llini,  is  kept 
in  view.  And,  thirdly,  that  to  stoji'  sIkhI  \\  il  h  t  lie 
recorded  words  of  Chri.st  Himself  on  iIh-  iiLalIrr 
is — .speakingly  reverently — not  to  know  His  wlmlu 
mind  upon  it.  It  was  impossible  for  Him  in  the 
course  of  His  earthly  ministry  to  set  forth  the  full 
significance  of  His  work  for  men,  before  it  was 
accomplished.  Hence  for  a  complete  account  of 
the  significance  of  His  death  we  turn  to  the  teach- 
ing of  tlie  Apostles,  enlightened  as  they  were  by 


the  Holy  Spirit  whom  He  had  promisei 


due 


course  were  revealed  those  '  many  things '  concern- 
ing His  cross  and  passion  which  His  disciples 
could  not  '  bear  '  during  His  lifetime.  Down  even 
to  the  very  close  of  His  short  ministry  on  earth 
the  rudimentary  .spiritual  intelligence  of  the 
Apostles  was  unequal  to  (tarrying  the  full  burden 
of  the  gospel  as  they  afterwards  understood  it. 
The  way  in  which  that  gospel  was  to  In;  emphatic- 
ally one  of  forgiveness,  that  '  tliumtjli  this  man 
is  proclaimed  remission  of  siii~,  hthI  liy  liiiii  every 
one  that  believeth  is  justilicil  timu  .ill  things  from 
which  ye  could  not  be  justiliud  by  the  lawof 
Moses,'  was  only  made  clear  afterwards.  It  being 
therefore  carefully  borne  in  mind  that  the  OT 
prepared  tlie  way  for  Christ's  teaching  on  forgive- 
ness, and  that  the  Epistles  developed  and  com- 
pleted it,  this  article  will  deal  only  with  that  stage 
in  the  biblical  doctrine  of  the  subject  which  is 
represented  by  Christ  and  the  Gospels.  The  con- 
sideration of  it  will  111'  diviilcil  inlii  fiiiir  sritioiis: 
(1)  the  Divine  forgivem'ss  uf  inan,  I'J-  <  'In  i-l\  n\Mi 
power  to  forgive  sins,  (H)  the  ilul\'  oi  jiim  in  tm-iM' 
one  another,  (4)  tlif  .-Mrni  i..n\Iih1i  aulliontv  In 
forgivris  veslrd  i)i  tli.'  ('I,ii-ii:in  ,  .  m„  n,  1 1  mt  y.  ' 
\.i:n,l  til,-    Fnllin-  iis  t\n<:  finm.~ 

Tlir  llrsl    ivtViviicr  rliroii,,],..  ,      il.    I I,  subject 

in  llic(;,,spi.ls  is  loiiii.l  ill  ill-  /■ '"/"  .  iir  Psalm 

of  Zacharias  (Lk  1'").  Tlir  pnipliccy  concerning 
John  the  B,aptist  .announces  that  he  is  to  give 
'knowledge  of  salvation  unto  his  people,  in  the 
remission  of  their  sins,  ticcording  to  the  tender 
mercy  of  our  God,'  etc.  The  whole  tenor  of  the 
canticle  goes,  to  show  that  God's  ancient  promises 
were  about  to  be  fulfilled  in  the  coming  of  a  Saviour 
through  whom  the  great  boon  of  remission  of  sins 
was  to  be  secured  in  a  fuller  sense  than  had  hitherto 
obtained.  When  the  time  came,  John  the  Baptist 
is  declared  to  have  preached  the  baptism  of  re- 
pentance 'unto  remission  of  sins'  (Mk  1^  Lk  3'). 
In  the  same  connexion  may  be  taken  the  interpre- 
tation of  the  name  Jesus  in  Mt  1='  '  he  shall  save 
his  people  from  their  sins,'  and  the  '  Saviour,  Christ 


616 


FORGIVENESS 


FORGIVENESS 


the  Lord,' of  Lk  2",  though  tlie  word  'forgiveness' 
does  not  occur.  It  was  indeed  imiilicit  through- 
out tmr  Lord's  ministry,  all  His  declarations  con- 
cerning His  coming  'not  to  call  the  righteous,  but 
sinners '  (Mt  9"  II),  '  to  seek  and  to  save  that  which 
was  lost'  (Lk  19"),  and  His  promise  of  'rest  to  the 
souls'  of  men  (Mt  IF-'),  showing  that  the  object  of 
His  ministry  was  to  reclaim  from  sin,  by  bringing 
men  to  that  forgiveness  and  cleansing  which  God 
had  promised  through  repentance  and  faith  in  Him. 

The  explicit  references  to  forgiveness  of  sin  are 
comparatively  few,  but  they  are  clear  and  definite 
in  character,  and  quite  sufficient  to  establish  doc- 
trine on  the  subject.  They  are :  (a)  the  petition 
in  the  Lord's  Prayer,  '  Forgive  us  our  debts,' 
Mt  6'-  ('our  sins,'  Lk  IP),  combined  with  Jit 
6"'^,  Mk  11^,  .which  a.ssert  God's  wOlingness  to 
forgive  under  certain  conditions.  AVith  these  join 
Lk  6^,  a  parallel  passage  with  a  different  turn  of 
expression,  'Release  and  ye  shall  be  released,'  the 
reference  clearly  being  to  sin.  (b)  Tlie  parables  of 
Lk  15,  especially  that  of  the  Prodigal  Son,  and  of 
the  Pharisee  and  the  Publican  in  Lk  18*i-".  {c)  Our 
Saviour's  prayer  on  the  cross,  '  Father,  forgive 
them,'  etc.,  Lk  23".  (rf)  Statements  concerning 
God's  \villingness  to  forgive  all  sins,  including 
those  'against  the  Son  of  man,'  but  excluding  the 
unpardonable  .sin  against  the  Holy  Ghost,  Mt  12^, 
Mk  3=»,  Lk  12" ;  add  also  Mk  4i=,  in  which  Isaiah's 
prophecy  is  represented  as  being  fulfilled,  '  lest  they 
should  repent  and  be  forgiven  (healed).' 

Putting  these  passages  together,  Ave  are  war- 
ranted in  concluding  that  Christ  taught  the  readi- 
ness of  the  Father  always  to  hear  the  prayer  of  the 
truly  penitent  and  in  His  mercy  to  pardon  their 
sins,  the  chief  questions  being.  What  is  the  exact 
nature  of  forgiveness  ?  Is  it  free  to  all  mankind, 
or  to  those  only  who  are  in  covenant  relation  with 
Him  ?  Is  any  condition  besides  that  of  repentance 
laid  down  ? 

The  meaning  of  the  word  '  forgiveness,'  and  the 
relation  between  God  and  man  implied  in  it,  must 
be  gathered  largely  from  the  OT.  Doubtless  under 
the  old  in\iii,uit  a  iiro,i;ressive  revelation  is  to  be 
recogiii/iil.  ,111  ,i,U,une  in  spirituality  of  teaching 
being  di-r,.,  nililr  in  its  later  sta-es.  Doubtless 
also  it  is  nercrsaiy  tu  bear  in  mind  the  distinction 
between  the  ceremonial  standpoint  of  the  Law 
■with  its  elaborate  ritual  and  appointed  sacrifices 
on  the  one  hand,  and  the  more  purely  spiritual 
view  of  the  prophet  and  psalmist  on  the  other. 
But,  broadly  speaking,  Christ,  like  the  more 
'  Evangelical '  OT  prophets,  represents  forgiveness 
as  a  pure  act  of  grace  on  the  part  of  God,  who  on 
the  repentance  of  the  sinner  receives  him  graciously 
and  pardons  his  transgression  in  the  sense  of  re- 
placing the  offender  in  his  former  relation  of 
acceptance  and  favour.  Forgiveness  is  not  mere 
remission  of  penalty,  the  forbearing  to  inflict  de- 
served punishment,  though  such  release  is  for  the 
most  part  included.  Punishment  may  still  be 
exacted,  but  it  has  lost  its  penal  character  and 

1 's  T>ivine  chastisement  inflicted  for  the  im- 

l'rn\  I  iiiiiu  nt  the  offender,  or  for  the  sake  of  others. 
N.iih  1  I'H'^  forgiveness  imply  any  false  or  arbi- 
tiMiy  .lialiii-  with  the  past,  any  condoning  of  sin — 
which  is  essentially  immoral — or  ignoring  of  the 
transgression,  as  if  it  had  not  been  committed — 
which  would  imply  a  weak  and  false  attempt  to 
secure  the  impossible.  Nor,  again,  can  any  kind 
of  remission  of  sins  be  predicated  of  God  whii-li 
implies  unrighteousness  in  any  form,  the  solemn 
sanctions  of  the  eternal  law  of  righteousness  being 
sectired  by  the  conditions  upon  which  forgiveness 
is  granted. 

But  the  essence  of  forgiveness  lies  in  the  estab- 
lishment, or  restoration,  of  a  personal  relation  be- 
tween sinful  man  and  a  grieved  and  righteously 


angry  C!od.  Omnipotence  itself  cannot  erase  the 
event  from  the  history  of  the  past,  and  holiness 
will  not  permit  any  concealment  or  pretence  as  to 
the  heiuousness  of  the  offence  committed.  But  the 
sin  may  be  'covered,'  the  guilt  cancelled,  in  tlie 
sense  that  on  certain  conditions  it  shall  be  as  if  it 
had  never  been,  so  far  as  the  relation  between  God 
and  the  sinner  is  concerned.  Hence  .sin  when  for- 
given is  said  to  be  '  cast  into  the  depth  of  the  sea ' 
(Mic  7'"),  'cast  behind  thy  back'  (Is  38"),  removed 
'  as  far  as  the  east  is  from  the  west '  (Ps  103'-), 
'remembered  no  more'  (Jer  31*^)  against  the 
sinner. 

Ritschl  says  :  *  God,  in  for^ivinf;^  or  pardoning  sins,  exercises 
His  win  in  the  direction  of  not  permitting  tiie  contradiction — 
expressed  in  irnilt— in  -n-hirh  sinners  stand  to  Him  to  hinder 
that  f,  ll.^^vli.'i,  ,,t  ,,,,,!  witti   ITini  whi''h  ttr-  iiitends  on  hijjlier 


time  the  place  of  mistrust  towards  God  is  talcen  by  the  positive 
assent  of  the  will  to  God  and  His  saving  purpose." 

Foi-giveness  can  never  be  adequately  understood 
by  means  of  any  figure  of  speech,  commercial  or 
other.  It  represents  a  relation  of  persons,  and  its 
essence  lies  in  the  restoration  of  impaired  con- 
fidence, aff'ection,  and  favourable  regard.  It  has  to 
do  not  only  with  the  past,  but  the  present  and 
the  future,  and  it  is  e-xercised  by  God  towards 
men  just  in  proportion  as  they  are  capable  of 
receiving  it. 

Eepcntancc  is  the  one  condition  clearly  laid  down 
and  repeatedly  insisted  on  in  the  Gospels.  It  is 
necessary  as  between  man  and  man,  much  more 
between  man  and  God.  When  John  the  Baptist 
comes  to  prepare  the  way  of  the  Saviour,  nothing 
can  be  done  without  that  thoroughgoing  repent- 
ance which  implies  reformation  so  far  as  man  can 
effect  it.  Repentance  is  indeed  a  necessary  in- 
gredient of  forgiveness  if  the  two  terms  are  rightly 
understood.  Sorrow  for  sin  and  complete  renuncia- 
tion of  it  are  not  arbitrary  conditions  which  the 
Sovereign  chooses  to  exact  before  bestowing  a 
boon  ;  they  belong  to  the  very  essence  of  the  per- 
sonal relation  between  Father  and  son  which  has 
been  impaired  or  broken  by  error  and  disobedience, 
and  which  is  to  be  restored  in  forgiveness.  For  an 
impenitent  sinner  not  to  be  punished  is  conceivable, 
but  for  .such  a  one  to  be  forgiven  is  a  contradiction 
in  terms.  The  necessity  for  a  forgiving  spirit  in 
one  who  hopes  himself  to  be  forgiven  is  dealt  with 
below. 

God  is  then  '  good  and  ready  to  forgive '  (Ps  86°), 
a  God  '  keeping  mercy  for  thousands,  forgiving 
iniquity,  transgression,  and  sin '  (Ex  34').  It 
would,  however,  be  misleading  to  generalize  and 
say  that  this  attribute  of  mercy  obviates  all  neces- 
sity for  an  atnniiiirnt.  (•!  vindication  of  the  law 
of  righteousiii -~.  ,im,1  ihit  throughout  the  whole 
history  of  X\\r  wniM  UMihing  more  is  needed  to 
obtain  Divine  tui-iveu.  -s  of  sin  than  confession 
and  repentance  on  the  part  <it'  inan.  Tln'  la-nmises 
of  the  OT  were  given  to  th..-.-  «li..  -in,„l  in  a 
covenantrelation  with  God,  in  \vlii.li  I  li^  i  iuhteons- 
ness  was  effectually  .safeguardeil.  <  liii^ts  ministry 
was  exercised  amongst  Jews  in  the  lirst  instance, 
and  the  presuppositions  of  OT  Scripture  must  be 
taken  into  account. 

Tlie  same  may  be  said  of  the  two  gracious 
parables  of  our  Lord  which  chiefly  deal  with  this 
subject.  It  is  impossible  to  found  accurate  doc- 
trine on  a  parable  only,  and  it  is  always  a  mistake 
to  suppose  that  one  jiarable  can  cover  the  whole 
range  of  doctrine.  The  three  recorded  in  Lk  15 
were  \ittered  to  show  the  nature  of  Christ's  mission 
and  His  desire  to  seek  and  save  the  worst  sinners, 
as  well  as  the  willingness  of  God  to  receive  such. 


rOEGIVENESS 


FORGIVENESS 


617 


and  tlie  joy  of  heaven  and  eartli  when  the  ijenitent 
returns  and  is  pardoned.  The  moral  basis  on 
which  this  becomes  possible  in  the  Divine  govern- 
ment is  another  matter.  Tlie  cosmic  conditions  of 
forgiveness  are  described  in  their  projier  place  in 
Scripture.     But  in  the  parable  ol  tin"  l'riiiliu:il  Son 

the  lesson  is  impressed  that  IIm'  iu ~t  luilure  in 

filial  duty  will  be  readily  forgiven,  il  tin.'  w^mderer 
will  but  repent  and  return.  In  tlie  parable  of  the 
Pharisee  and  the  I'nl.lic.iii  the  essential  teacliing 
is  the  same — the  .Lm-t  r  le,t  those  wlio  comply 
with  rules  of  oiiliii.nN  menlity  should  so  plume 
themselves  on  then- oliedienee  :i,  to  Idm-  tlie  sense 
of  their  own  de.'].  nee.l  .■in,l  ill-Je^eil ,  .-ui.]  Ihef.-iet 
that  grave  oH'en^lei ,  :i;j:i  jn-i  I  he  linHl,n!ienl:il  l:i\\  s 
of  righteousne»,  like  tlie  piihlnan  niid  the  h.iih.t, 
may  find  their  way  into  tlie  kingiloiu  of  gi-ace 
before  the  self-righteous  Pharisee.  But  it  would 
be  utterly  misleading,  even  to  the  subversion  of 
the  very  foundations  of  ethics,  if  the  inference 
were  drawn  that  it  matters  nothing  how  deeply  a 
man  sins,  provided  that  when  his  evil  course  is  o\er 
he  regrets  his  errors  and  asks  for  pardon,  and  that 
tliere  is  no  reason  in  the  moral  government  of  the 
Universe  why  such  a  man  should  not  be  at  once 
forgiven  without  infraction  of  tlie  eternal  law  of 
righteousness. 

This  general  conclusion  is  borne  out  by  Christ's 
strong  language  concerning  sin,  and  especially  that 
sin  which  cannot  be  forgiven  (see  Mt  I'l''-,  I\ik  3-', 
Lk  12"').  In  spite  of  the  long  controversy  whicli 
has  taken  place  as  to  the  mysterious  sin  against 
the  Holy  Ghost  and  the  misunderstandings  con- 
cerning it  which  have  caused  unspeakable  spiritual 
anguish  to  tliousands,  there  seems  little  question 
that  the  only  sill  llnis  piuniiiineed  un]iaiil(iiialile  is 
that  of  wilfiilnnd  |H.i>i,-tenl  .Miininu  :.,uain-t  light 
till  light  itself  is  turned  indi  .larhiie-,>-,  — I  he  per- 
verting of  truth  at  i(s  veiy  simice,  w  here  the  Holy 
Spirit  Ilini.-elf  in-,(iuets  the  conscience,  and  thus 
poisoiiiiiL'  the  Well,  of  the  soul.  Therefore,  not  in 
virtue  of  an  arliitiaiy  fiat  of  the  Almighty,  but  by 
the  necessity  (if  (he' case,  such  sin  cannot  be  for- 
given. 'A  lamp's  death  when,  replete  with  oil,  it 
chokes ;  a  stomach's  when,  surcharged  with  food, 
it  starves.'  Witli  tiiis  exjilanation  liarmonizes  the 
Saviour's  prayer  in  Lk  23''^  '  Father,  forgive  them ; 
for  they  know  not  what  they  do.'  The  sin  of 
Christ's  murderers,  heinous  indeed  beyond  expres- 
sion, was  a  sin  against  the  Son  of  man,  and — at 
least  in  the  case  of  most  of  those  implicated  and  so 
far  as  the  full  gravity  of  the  offence  was  c(jncerned 
—it  was  not  such  a  deliberate  and  complete  per- 
version of  conscience  as  to  amount  to  a  sin  against 
the  Holy  Spirit.  The  reason  why  the  unfurgiving 
cannot  be  forgiven  is  to  be  siniilaiiy  understood. 
Hence  the  general  doctrine  is  laid'down  in  the 
Gospels  in  unmistakable  terms,  tlia.t(  hid  the  Katlier 
is  ready  to  receive  and  pardon  all  sinners  except 
those  who  shut  tliemselves  out  from  its  possibility 
by  wilfully  cherisliing  a  spirit  known  to  be  evil, 
and  deliberately  hardening  their  own  hearts  against 
the  grace  whieli  Avas  ready  to  receive  and  renew 
them.     See  Unpardonable  Sin. 

2.  It  is  clear  that  Christ's  teaching  concerning 
forgiveness  was  not  exliausted  by  the  iiioclaiiiation 
of  the  Father's  ■\villiiiene-    le  i . '.  ,  r,  -    ih  ■  i.enileni. 


recognized  by  all  to  he  . 
Mt  9,  Mk  2,  and  Lk  .'')  is  i 
the  healing  of  the  paraly 
impressed  itself  strongly  r 
given  by  all  three  Syne 
than  usual  and  almost  in 


li  liad  evidently 
I  it  ion,  since  it  is 
,  -reater  length 
e  ^^  ords.  It  was 
one  of  the  grounds  of  offence  wliicli  ultimately 
caused  tlie  death  of  Jesus,  tliat,  whilst  lowly  in 
demeanour.  He  put  forth  claims  for  Himself  so 
lofty  that  to  a  reverent  Jew  He  appeared  often  to 


blasplieiiie.  Jesus  does  not  deny  the  fundamental 
assumption  that  none  can  forgive  sins  but  Cod 
only.  To  a  true  believer  in  one  God  this  is  an 
axiom  ;  there  is  but  one  Governor  and  there  can  be 
but  one  Fount  of  pardon.  Jesus  did  not  thereupon 
disclaim  the  possession  of  a  Divine  prerogative. 
He  put  His  own  claims  to  an  easily  applied  test, 
Whether  is  it  easier  to  tell  a  sutterer  that  his  sins 
are  forgiven,  or  to  heal  him  of  an  incurable  malady  ? 
In  other  words,  any  prophet  may  speak  words  of 
comfort  or  absolution,  but  one  who  shows  the 
power  of  Ileal  ing  in  order  to  establish  his  claim  to 
pronounce  forgi\cness  is  no  ordinary  messenger, 
hut  jiroves  Himself  to  be  the  Son  of  God  with 
liower.  'i'lie  ^\  hoh;  incident  evidently  made  a 
dee]i  impression,  for  we  are  told  that  the  people 
wondered,  praised  God,  and  acknowledged  that 
unprecedented  and  superhuman  power  had  been 
entrusted  to  a  son  of  man. 

The  close  connexion  between  the  work  that 
Christ  did  for  the  liodies  of  men  and  the  power 
that  He  claimed  over  their  souls  in  the  forgive- 
ness of  sin,  is  suggested  in  other  narratives, 
though  somewhat  less  clearly.  The  inference  has 
been  drawn  from  Jn  5"  and  the  early  tradition 
recorded  in  8",  that  Jesus  habitually  pronounced 
remission  of  sin  and  gave  power  to  amend  the  life 
in  future,  but  the  brief  records  in  these  cases 
liardly  warrant  such  a  conclusion. 

The  narrative  of  the  woman  who  was  a  sinner, 
recorded  in  Lk  V^^-s",  Is  full  of  instruction  on  the 
subject  of  forgiveness.  The  mission  of  Christ  to 
save  the  outcast  and  the  ahainloncd  is  here  deli- 
cately and  lieiiutifully  shown,  'i'lie  only  doubtful 
pointof  interpretatidii  rel.iles  (o  the  ground  of  for- 
giveness as  described  in  v.^'.  Many  coniinentators, 
including  the  chief  Roman  (aih'olie  aulhorities, 
make  the  forgiveness  exteinle.l  to  the  woman  to 
depend  upon  the  love  she  show  I'd.  anil  at  liist  read- 
ing this  might  seem  warranted  l,\  the  jijiiuse  'for 
she  loved  much.'  IJut mi  \aniinal  mn  t  his  is  seen 
to  be  impossible.  Fur  (I)  (he  whole  si.i|.e  of  the 
parable  of  the  two  delitois  shows  that  Imgiveness 
precedes  lovo ;  (2)  the  latter  part  of  v.-""  enforces 
the  same  lesson  ;  and  so  (.S)  doe.s  the  ab.solution 
pronounced  in  v.''^.  The  only  ambiguity  lies  in 
the  pregnant  use  of  6Vi  in  v.^',  and  the  meaning  of 
the  clause  may  be  expressed  by  the  paraphrase, 
'  This  is  the  reason  why  I  tell  you  that  her  many 
sins  are  forgiven — for  (see)  she  has  shown  much 
love ;  but  he  who  is  forgiven  little,  loves  little.' 
Her  repentance  and  acceptance  had  taken  place 
before,  her  grateful  love  was  manifested  in  return 
by  the  outpouring  of  the  ointment ;  and  in  v.^" 
Christ  authoritatively  confirms  the  assurance  of 
her  free  and  full  pardon  as  One  who  had  an  abso- 
lute right  to  do  so. 

The  doctrine  of  the  forgiveness  of  sins  on  the 


basis  of  atoi 


,;ll    (III 


f  Christ  is 
imself. 
■'  and  a 
neither 
■.  The 
in  the 
ference 


Ihe  rourth  ( ;o,|iel  contain-.  |ia..a;ji 
reference  in  it)-'"  to  the  I'.-ischaj  hnnl 
of  these  comes  fiom  the  lips  oi  th. 
nearest  approach  to  smh  teaihitiL; 
institution  of  the  Lord's  Su|ipei  an 
to  His  blood  as  shed  lor  the  reinisMon  i,f  sins  in 
Ml  ■lV,-\  also  perlia]is  in  the  directions  -i\en  to  the 
\|io-iie-  in  l.k  'IV'.  By  the  time  ot"  M.  i'liiil, 
e;.ilie-i  t:|iis(lcs  (he  doctrine  of  tlieatonme  .hiili 
of  ('lirist  as  the  ground  of  the  forgiveness  of  sins 
was  fairly  developed,  and  the  question  is,  How  far 
liad  progress  been  made  in  this  direction  before 
the  death  of  Christ  took  place  ?  The  answer 
appears  to  be  that— as  with  the  doctrines  of  the 
Incarnation  and  a  Future  Life  in  the  OT— fore- 
shadowings  only  had  been  given,  hints  and  indica- 
tions of  a  revelation  which  could  not  be  clearly 
and  definitely  made  until  Christ's  work  was  com  ■ 


618 


FORGIVENESS 


FORGIVENESS 


plete  and  the  full  gift  of  tlie  Spirit  bestowed.  A 
reference  is  found  in  Mt  20-*  to  the  giving  up  of 
life  by  the  Son  of  man  '  as  a  ransom  for  many,'  but 
the  Apostles  could  not  in  Christ's  lifetime  under- 
stand at  all  tlie  luc.l  f<.r  His  death  and  the  full 
meaning  of  tlic  -l^lllli^^  of  His  blood  upon  the 
cross;  and  its  ((uinixiiui  with  the  forgiveness  of 
sins  dawned  n|«pn  thiin  only  gradually  under  the 
illumination  of  tlie  promised  Spirit. 

3.  One  of  the  most  noteworthy  features  in 
Christ's  ethical  teaching  was  His  inculcation  of 
the  diitij  of  almost,  unlimited  forgiveness  of  man  bi/ 
man.  The  standard  thus  set  up  was  practically 
new.  In  Pagan  ethics  to  revenge  an  injury  and 
punish  an  enemy  to  the  utmost  was  manly,  to 
forgive  was  mean-spirited.  Some  attronts  might 
be  passed  over  by  the  magnanimous  man,  simply 
because  it  was  beneath  his  dignity,  or  disturbing 
to  his  equanimity,  to  notice  them.  But  the  idea 
of  not  only  abstaining  from  vengeance,  but  actually 
restoring  an  offender  to  a  relation  of  kindly  regard, 
on  the  ground  of  human  brotherhood  and  for  tlie 
sake  of  helping  an  erring  one  to  regain  his  forfeited 
position,  was  quite  alien  to  the  spirit  of  ancient 
morals. 

Christ  taught  not  only  the  duty  of  forgiveness 
on  repentance,  but  that  it  was  to  be  unlimited 
both  in  quality  and  in  quantity.  No  oftence  was 
so  serious,  no  repetition  of  offences  so  excessive, 
that  forgiveness  might  be  withheld,  provided  only 
that  penitence  were  shown.  The  former  of  these 
points  is  not  enlarged  on  by  Christ,  but  it  is 
involved  in  the  proverbial  completeness  of  the 
phrase  '  unto  seventy  times  seven '  (Mt  18~).  Such 
forgiveness  of  injuries  was  based  upon  two  funda- 
mental principles  of  Christian  ethics  :  («)  the  duty 
of  repressing  all  personal  resentment,  closely  con- 
nected with  the  virtues  of  meekness  and  humility  ; 
and  (6)  that  love  to  all  men,  including  enemies, 
which — paradoxical  as  it  might  appear— Christ 
enjoined  as  fundamentally  incumbent  on  all  His 
disciples  (Mt  5").  The  'love'  and  forgiveness 
thus  inculcated  do  not  depend  upon  personal 
merits,  for  they  are  to  be  exercised  even  towards 
the  unthankful  and  the  evil.  But  the  one  neces- 
sary condition — repentance — is  insisted  on,  else 
the  moral  character  of  forgiveness  is  lost.  For, 
as  already  e.xplained,  forgiveness  is  a  relation 
between  persons,  and  if  it  he  included  as  a  duty 
in  a  moral  code,  it  must  imply  an  ethical  relation, 
such  as  is  altogether  lacking  if  ei'il  is  condoned,  or 
its  seriousness  slighted.  Hence  the  offender  must, 
so  far  as  in  him  lies,  put  away  the  evil  thing,  if  it 
is  to  be  no  longer  a  barrier  between  him  and  one 
whose  course  is  determined  by  the  law  of  righteous- 
ness. The  truly  moral  nature  of  Christian  forgive- 
ness is  brought  out  in  Lk  17',  where  it  is  closely 
joined  with  the  duty  of  reproving  sin — '  If  thy 
brotlier  sin,  rebuke  him  ;  and  if  he  repent,  forgive 
him.'  With  this  may  be  compared  Lv  19",  where 
the  reproof  of  an  evil-doer  is  spoken  of  as  a 
mark  of  love.  Just  as  in  the  Law  the  righteous 
man  is  bidden  to  rebuke  his  neighbour  and  not 
'  bear  sin  because  of  him,'  so  under  the  gospel  he 
is  bidden  to  forgive  the  penitent  wrong-doer,  that 
he  may  help  him  to  a  better  life. 

The  close  connexion  between  God's  forgiveness 
of  man  and  man's  forgiveness  of  injuries  against 
himself  is  brought  out  in  Mt  6'"'=,  Lk  ll-" ;  see 
also  Lk  6"  and  Mk  1  !"'•=«.  In  the  last  jiassage,  as 
well  as  in  Mt  5=^-  ^,  the  duty  of  being  '  in  love  an<l 
charity  ^\'ith  our  neighbours,'  and  '  in  perfect 
charity  with  all  men,'  is  laid  down  as  a  condition 
of  acceptable  prayer  to  God.  The  reason  is  akin 
to  that  described  above.  Tliere  are  some  states  of 
mind  in  which  a  worshipper  is  not  fit  to  pray,  in 
which  lie  asks  for  blessings  tliat  he  is  not  capable 
of  receiving.    The  principle  is  not  to  be  understood 


as  a  kind  of  Divine  lex  talioii  is,  as  in  the  parable 
of  the  Unmerciful  Debtor  (Mt  IS^)— that  a  man 
does  not  deserve  mercy  himself,  if  he  will  not 
show  it  to  others,  though  this  is  true  and  appeals 
to  a  natural  sense  of  justice.  Hat  her  is  it  to  be 
understood  that  the  unforgiving  man  shows  essen- 
tial impenitence,  or  at  best  an  uneducated  con- 
science in  respect  of  his  relations  with  his  fellows. 
A  man  who  cherishes  hardness  of  heart  towards 
those  who  have  injured  him  so  oHends  against  the 
law  of  love  that  he  cannot  be  received  by  the  God 
of  love,  and  cannot  enjoy  the  restored  relationship 
which  he  asks  for  in  the  Divine  forgiveness,  the 
whole  significance  of  which  is  due  to  tlie  supremacy 
of  love.  Or,  as  Beyschlag  expresses  it,  'he  who 
would  belong  to  the  kingdom  of  love  as  a  recipient 
must  belong  to  it  as  an  agent.'  The  merciful 
alone  can  obtain  mercy,  or  rightly  use  it  when  it 
is  granted  to  them. 

4.  Similar  principles  to  those  which  regulate  the 
relation  of  individuals  are  to  be  applied  where 
C'hrUtian  communities  arc  concerned.  The  two 
are  closely  connected,  as  is  shown  by  the  passage 
Mt  18i=-'».  Christ  deals  first  with  the  ottending 
individual ;  if  it  can  be  avoided,  recourse  must; 
not  be  had  to  the  authority  of  the  Christian 
society.  It  may  be  that  personal  remonstrance 
will  Millie-  ti)  sc-t  light  the  offender,  or  at  least 
the  iiic'ial  iullurnce  of  the  brotherhood  exercised 
in  i.iiv.n.'  I.y  thi'  presence  of  two  or  three  wit- 
nessi>.  It  the  whole  community  is  compelled  to 
act,  the  utmost  penalty  inflicted  is  expulsion  from 
tlie  brotherhood,  the  only  rights  then  remaining  to 
the  excommunicated  person  being  the  inalienable 
ones  of  a  fellow-man. 

Till' (|uistieu  of  forgiveness  or  condemnation  as 
exiK  i-.  a  \<y  III,'  (1  immunity  arises  from  the  phrase- 
olnuy  ri.iiririiini;  liinding  and  loosing  contained  in 
v.'^'witll  vhirh  should  be  compared  the  words 
addressed  to  St.  Peter  in  Mt  16"*,  and  those  ad- 
dressed to  a  company  which  seems  certainly  to 
have  included  more  than  tlie  Apostles,  in  Jn  '20^. 
The  power  granted  to  the  Christian  community  in 
the  words,  '  Whosesoever  sins  ye  remit,  they  are 
remitted  unto  them ;  and  whosesoever  sins  ye 
retain,  they  are  retained,'  is  not  to  be  confused 
with  Divine  foriiAr-Tiess  of  sins  on  the  one  hand, 
or  with  iiiili\  i.lii.il  fmuiveness  on  the  otlier. 
Whilst  more  MjiiMh  :nit  than  the  latter,  it  stops 
far  short  ot  the  tuviner.  Individual  Christians 
are  to  do  their  lipst  jirivately  to  stop  the  progress 
of  ill-feeling  and  enmity,  but  '  offences '  will  still 
arise.  A  power  of  checking  them  is  therefore 
lodged  with  the  community  for  the  maintenance 
of  purity  and  the  avoidance  of  scandal.  This  is 
described  as  the  power  of  '  binding  and  loosing.' 
Acting  in  the  name  of  Christ,  and  presumably  in 
the  spirit  of  Christ,  His  Church  >vill.  He  says,  in 
a  sense  exercise  His  authority,  and  their  action, 
whether  of  permission  or  prohibition,  of  condem- 
nation or  acquittal,  will  be  ratified  in  heaven. 
This  power,  while  great  and  important,  is  clearly 
not  comparable  to  the  Divine  forgiM  ne-s  of  the 
individual  sinner.  This  involves  a  full  kimwhil^e 
of  circumstances  and  of  the  disiKisitimi  of  the 
inmost  heart  which  no  man  can  possess  in  lelaliun 
to  his  fellow  -  man.  No  authority  is  given  by 
Christ  to  a  community— still  less  to  a  'priest,'  of 
■Nvhom  it  is  needless  to  say  that  the  Gospels  know 
absolutely  nothing — to  exercise  or  to  pronounce 
'  forgiveness '  in  the  case  of  any  individual.  But 
just  as  an  oftender  belonging  to  a  Christian  com- 
munity needs  to  be  rebuked  by  the  Church  in 
order  that  the  Divine  condemnation  of  wrong- 
doing may  be  echoed  on  earth,  and  earthly 
penalties  may  be  inflicted  which  may  arrest 
further  evil  and  so  prevent  the  terrible  danger 
of  ■worse  punishment   to  come  ;  so  the  penitent 


FORSAKEN 


FOESAKING  ALL 


619 


needs  as.surance  from  an  earthly  authority  to  help 
him  in  his  upward  course  of  reformation,  though 
the  real  and  ultimate  transaction  of  forgiveness 
must  rest  between  himself  and  God  alone.  The 
high  authority  thus  conferred  upon  the  Christian 
society  and  the  responsible  character  attached  to 
its  judgments  depend  entirely  upon  its  possession 
of  that  spiritual  discernment  which  the  Holy 
Spirit  alone  can  bestow,  and  its  acting  always  in 
the  name  of  Christ  and  under  the  direction  and 
control  of  the  Spirit  of  Christ. 

Literature.— From  amongst  the  numberless  books  bearing' 
directly  or  indirectly  on  the  subject  may  be  mentioned : 
BeyschlafT,  NT  Theolmy,  bk.  i.  cli.  iv.  §  11,  and  eh.  vii.  §§  3 
and  4 ;  Stevens,  NT  Theologij,  pt.  i.  ch.  viii.  ;  Moberly, 
Atonement  and  Personality,  chs.  2  and  a  ;  Seeley,  Eccc  Homo, 
chs.  22  and  23  ;  Knight,  Christian  Ethic,  ch.  11 ;  and  especially 
Ritschl,  Christian  Doctrine  of  Justification  and  Reconciliation, 
1874,  vol.  iii.  (Eng.  tr.  under  the  above  title,  1000] ;  see  also 
Betlmne-Baker,  art.  '  Forgiveness'  in  Hastings'  DB. 

W.  T.  Davlson 

FORSAKEN.— Mt  27^"  ||.    See  Dereliction. 

FOESAKING  ALL.- 

«»,!.«.,  Mt  4™-^^=  Ml;  1"  "-»:  Lk  r.";  Mt  1027- !»!  =  lHk  1028.29  = 

Lk  182».-a;icroT^>^.--"-<., 'r.'iioni /  lk  14".    In  Lk  961  iisTK?- 

ctctiai  Toii  iU -rov  r/.-^-'.^  ■  n.r  n  m  :i  ii  .  ii  is-  r  ■  I  .i-ULcrewell  to  those 
in  my  house'  ('l     >i  ^r  'renounce  the 

things  in  my  hulls- .  '  i':is(Ex3sm.). 

Jesus  had  two  .  l.i--.'-  i,\  ;ii-- i],|,  ~.  First  there 
Avas  the  multitude  of  tlio.se  who  ln-lieved  on  Him  ; 
and,  while  He  required  that  they  should  give  Him 
the  chief  place  in  their  affection  and  shrink  from 
no  sacrifice  for  His  sake.  He  allowed  them  to 
remain  where  He  had  found  them,  prosecuting 
their  old  avocations,  yet  rendering  no  small  service 
to  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven  by  testifying  to  His 
grace  and  confessing  what  He  had  done  for  their 
souls.  Then  there  were  the  Twelve,  whom  He 
required  to  be  always  with  Him,  following  Him 
wherever  He  went,  sharing  His  lot,  and  entering 
by  daily  intercourse  and  discipline  into  the  mys- 
steries  of  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven,  that  they  might 
be  fitted  for  the  task  of  carrying  on  His  work 
when  He  was  gone.  Some  of  the  former,  like  the 
Gerasene  demoniac,  would  fain  have  attached 
themselves  to  Him  and  joined  the  fellowship  of 
His  comrades ;  but  He  refused  their  offer.  He 
had  other  work  for  them  to  do.  '  Away  to  thine 
house  unto  thy  jjeople,  and  proclaim  to  them  what 
great  things  the  Lord  hath  done  to  thee,  and  how 
he  had  pity  on  thee '  (Mk  5'"  =  Lk  S^). 

In  every  instance  He  laid  it  down  as  the  inexor- 
able condition  of  admission  to  His  inner  circle 
that  the  man  should  forsake  all — home,  kindred, 
and  possessions.  'Come  after  me,'  He  said  to 
Simon  and  Andrew  when  He  called  them  on  the 
shore  of  the  Lake  of  Galilee,  '  and  I  will  make  you 
lishers  of  men.'  And  it  is  written  that  'they  im- 
mediately left  their  nets  and  followed  him.'  Then 
He  called  James  and  John,  and  they  also  'left 
their  father  Zebedee  in  the  boat  with  the  hired 
men,  and  went  away  after  him'  (Mk  li6-2»  = 
Mt  4'8-22).  And  in  His  commission  to  the  Twelve, 
when  He  sent  them  forth  two  by  two  to  preach 
and  heal.  He  reiterated  this  condition  of  Apostle- 
ship.  He  laid  His  hand  on  the  tenderest  of  human 
affections  and  claimed  for  Himself  a  prior  devo- 
tion :  '  He  that  loveth  father  or  mother  above  me 
is  not  worthy  of  me ;  and  he  that  loveth  son  or 
daughter  above  me  is  not  worthy  of  me.  And  one 
who  doth  not  take  his  cross,  and  follow  after  me,  is 
notwditliy  of  111,.'  (Mt  lU^-™). 

Of  iM.iir-..  ii  w.is  inevitable  that  those  who  fol- 
lowed .Ic-iis  w  liii-.\er  He  went  should  share  His 
homeli'ss  iiiiil  dis.ilate  lot;  but  He  had  a  special 
reason  for  His  emphatic  insistence  on  this  condi- 
tion. The  men  of  His  generation  cherished  a 
secular  ideal  of  the  Messiah.  They  looked  for 
a  king  of  David's  lineage  who  should  appear  in 


might  and  majesty  and,  driving  out  the  heathen, 
set  up  the  fallen  throne  in  more  than  its  ancient 
splendour.  Even  the  Twelve  shared  this  ideal, 
and  they  clung  to  it  to  the  last,  reconciling  them- 
selves to  the  lowliness  of  their  Master  by  the 
theory  that  it  was  only  a  temporary  veiling  of 
His  glory,  and  that  He  would  presently  fling 
off  His  disguise  and  flash  forth  in  His  proper 
majesty.  They  had  left  all  that  they  might  follow 
Him,  but  they  consoled  themselves  with  the  anti- 
cipation of  a  speedy  and  overflowing  recompense. 
'Behold,'  said  St.  Peter  after  the  young  ruler's 
refusal  to  make  the  sacrifice  which  Jesus  de- 
manded, '  »'c  have  left  all  and  followed  thee :  what 
then  shall  tt'C  have  ? '  It  was  towards  the  close,  and 
the  Twelve  were  beginning  to  fear  that  they  had 
been  hugging  a  false  hope,  and  would  have  no 
such  recompense  as  they  dreamed  of.  '  Verily  I 
tell  you,'  answered  Jesus,  pitying  their  discomfi- 
ture yet  resolute  to  correct  tiieir  error,  '  that  ye 
that  have  followed  mo,  in  ihc  ro^incrat ion  when 
the  Son  of  man  sliull  :-il  u|ioii  tiir  tlnoiie  of  his 
glory,  shall  yourselves  :il-..  -il  ii]ioii  twi  l\c'  thrones 
judging  the  twelve  liilirs  of  Israel.  And  every 
one  who  hath  left  brethren,  or  sisters,  or  father,  or 
mother,  or  children,  or  lands,  or  houses,  for  my 
name's  sake,  shall  receive  manifold  more,  and  shall 
inherit  eternal  life.  But,'  He  added  significantly, 
hinting  at  a  reversal  of  their  expectation,  '  many 
last  shall  bo  fir.st,  and  first  last'  (Mt  19-"'-="= Mk 
10=»-^i  =  Lk  IS''"-^").  They  were  right  in  expecting 
a  recompense,  but  their  recompense  would  be  other 
than  they  conceived. 

As  time  passed  and  He  still  trod  the  path  of 
humiliation,  they  fretted  at  His  inexplicable  pro- 
crastination ;  and,  as  the  darkness  deepened,  and 
the  toils  closed  about  Him,  they  reasoned  that  the 
inevitable  dinouement  could  be  no  longer  deferred. 
During  His  last  progress  to  Jerusalem,  with  His 
intimation  of  the  I'assion  in  tlieii- ears,  (liey  were 
dreaming  their  \\orlilly  ■lic'inii.  lli-  was  ^oing  up 
to  the  sacreil  e;i|.il;il,  .ami,  tliey  assuie.l  1  lieniselves, 
it  could  be  for  naught  else  tli.an  the  cl.iiniing  of 
His  crown;  and  James  and  John,  con.spiring  with 
their  mother  Salome,  approached  Him  and  essayed 
to  extort  from  Him  a  promise  that  they  should  be 
awarded  the  chief  places  beside  His  throne  (Mt 
20=0-28= Mk  l(p-'-'% 

Such  was  the  Messianic  ideal  which  dominated 
the  minds  of  our  Lord's  contemporaries;  and  it 
was  fraugiit  with  mischief,  hindering  more  than 
aught  else  the  recognition  of  His  claims.  In  truth 
the  marvel  is  not  that  so  few  accepted  Him,  but 
that  with  such  an  expectation  any  accepted  Him. 
They  were  looking  for  a  glorious  Messiah,  a  king 
with  a  crown  on  his  head  and  an  army  at  his  back ; 
and  Jesus  jiresented  Himself,  the  Son  of  man, 
meek  and  lowly,  the  very  antithesis  of  what,  they 
believed,  the  INIessiali  should  be.  He  lo.st  no  oppor- 
tunity of  proleslin-  njaiirst  the  unspiritual  ideal, 
and  not  the  lea-l  slrikinu  of  His  protests  is  this 
condition  wlmli  lie  eonsiantly  and  emphatically 
placed  liefore  tlio.se  ^^■ho  desired  to  attach  them- 
selves to  Him.  A  scribe  once  came  to  Him  and 
said :  '  Teacher,  I  will  follow  thee  wherever  thou 
goest.'  What  was  his  notion  ?  He  had  been  con- 
vinced of  the  Me.ssiahship  of  Jesus,  and,  sharing 
the  prevailing  expectation,  thouglit  to  reap  a  rich 
harvest  of  honour  and  emolument  in  the  new  era 
which  would  presently  be  inaugurated.  Certainly, 
he  argued,  when  Jesus  won  His  own  and  rewarded 
His  faithful  followers.  He  would  award  the  fore- 
most place  to  one  so  distinguished  by  rank  and 
learning.*  And  how  did  Jesus  answer?  'You 
are  expecting,'  He  said,  'office  and  honour  in  an 
earthly  kingdom.  Realize  the  fact.  If  you  follow 
me  wherever  I  go,  you  must  forsake  all  and  share 
*  So  Chrysost,  Jerome. 


FOKTY 


FKANKIXCEXSE 


my  lowly  and  painful  lot.  The  foxes  ha\e  holes, 
and  the  birds  of  the  heaven  nests  ;  but  the  Son  of 
man  hath  not  where  to  lay  down  his  head '  *  (Lk 
9=--««  =  Mt8«'-=°). 

Again,  when  He  was  travelling  through  Galilee 
on  His  last  journey  up  to  Jerusalem,  He  was 
followed  by  an  enthusiastic  throng.  Knowing 
■whither  He  was  bound,  they  concluded  that  He 
was  going  to  declare  Himself  king  of  Israel,  and 
they  were  for  following  Him  all  the  way  and 
sharing  in  His  triumph.  Suddenly  He  wheeled 
round  {aTpa<l>els)  and  addressed  them  :  '  If  any  man 
Cometh  after  me,  and  doth  not  hate  his  father,  and 
mother,  and  wife,  and  children,  and  brethren,  and 
sisters,  yea,  moreover,  even  his  own  life,  he  cannot 
be  my  disciple.  Whosoever  doth  not  bear  his 
cross,  and  come  after  me,  cannot  be  my  disciple.' 
Then  He  added  two  parables,  —  the  Unfinished 
Tower  and  the  Two  Kings, — warning  against  the 
folly  of  embarking  upon  an  enterprise  which  one  is 
incapable  of  carrying  through.  '  So,  therefore,'  He 
concluded,  '  if  ye  -would  follow  me,  understand  the 
condition.  Count  the  cost,  and  determine  whether 
you  are  prepared  to  meet  it.  Every  one  of  you 
who  doth  not  renounce  all  that  he  hath  cannot  be 
my  disciple' (Lk  U^-**).  David  Smith. 

FORTY.— See  Numbers. 

FOUNDATION  OF  THE  WORLD.— Tlie  phrase 
KaralioXri  koitixov  occurs  in  Mt  25^,  Lk  IP",  .Jn  17"^ 
{Kotr/jiov  is  doubtful  in  Jit  13^,  see  RVm).  It  is  a 
common  expression  in  the  NT,  c.t/.  Eph  1*,  He  4^ 
92",  1  P  1=»,  Rev  138  1-8.  In  general  it  denotes  a 
time  sense,  implying  a  strong  declaration  of  pri- 
ority. It  always  occurs  with  the  prepositions  otto 
or  irpd.  KaTa§o\ri  primarily  means  the  laying 
down  or  founding  of  anything,  hence  the  absolute 
beginning.  k6<t^os  is  a  word  of  much  more  varied 
meaning,  into  the  different  phases  of  which  we 
need  not  here  enter.  Its  present  use  as  applied  to 
the  Universe  is  well  established.  The  whole  ex- 
pression is  equivalent  to  the  phrase  found  in  Mk 
10"  13"  '  from  the  beginning  of  tlie  creation '  {aTrb 
dpxrji  KTlirem).  'Old  Testament  Hebrew  has  no 
term  which  would  quite  correspond  to  the  Greek 
6  KScr/ios '  (Dalman,  Words  of  Jesus,  p.  162).  j\It 
13^  is  an  unliteral  rendering  of  Ps  78-  D'35"3P, 
which  the  LXX  translates  At'  apxvs.  '  The  founda- 
tion of  the  world'  stands  for  the  definite  epoch 
when  this  present  Universe  was  originated. 

AV.  S.  Kerr. 

FOUR.— See  Numbers. 


FOWL.— The  word   'fowl 


now  ahuost 


stricted  to  poultry,  and  especially  to  tliat  familiar 
bird  in  a  farmyard,  the  '  barn-door  fowl '  ;  but  it 
is  used  in  the  NT  in  a  wider  sense.  The  Gr.  word 
TeTuvd  (lit.  '  flying  things  ')  does  not  indeed  signify, 
as  its  derivation  might  imply,  all  winged  creatures 
— a  meaning  sometimes  attached  to  '  fowls '  in  Old 
English  (Hastings' i3J3,  art.  'Fowl').  It  denotes 
'  birds,'  of  which  there  are  many  species  in  Pale- 
stine, including  some  which  are  only  l)irds  of  pas- 
sage with  us.  Quite  arbitrarily  AV  renders  Trerei.'d 
by  '  birds '  in  Mt  8^  IS^^,  Lk  9*  ;  and  by  '  fowls '  in 
^h  e*-  13^  Mk  4^-  ^\  Lk  8»  12=»  13".  in  every  case 
in  which  TrcTctfi  occurs  in  the  Gospels  RV  gives 
'  birds.' 

Borrowing  so  much  as  He  did  from  <ml\var.l 
nature,  our  Lord  often  employed  birds  t  ■  ■  i  1 1  r.  - 1 1 , ,  i , 
His  teaching.  Their  nests  are  contr.iM.,1  «iili 
His  o\vn  pillowless  couch  (Mt  S**).  In  tli.-  p.u.il.l.- 
of  the  Sower  they  devour  the  seed  that  f.dls  by 
the  wayside  (Mt  13^) ;  in  that  of  the  Mustard  Seed 


they  lodge  under  the  shadow  of  the  huge  plant 
wliich  gi-ew  out  of  such  a  tiny  germ  (Mk  4*-).  Their 
free  iindistracted  lives  play  an  important  part  in 
tliat  cumulative  argument  which  Christ  builds  up 
in  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount  against  the  tyranny 
of  care.  They  neither  sow,  reap,  nor  gather  into 
barns,  yet  the  heavenly  Father  feeds  them  (Mt 
6-"),  i.e.  they  are  inferior  to  man  in  two  respects. 
For  (1)  they  cannot  anticipate  and  influence  the 
future  as  man  can  by  the  exercise  of  his  reason 
or  the  labour  of  his  hands ;  (2)  God  is  only  their 
Creator,  but  He  is  man's  Father,  and  will  not  forget 
His  child.  Though  the  'fowls'  cannot  foresee,  or 
work,  or  trust,  they  have  no  care.  Yet  they  are 
fed.  How  foolish  of  man,  who  can  do  all  these 
things,  to  fall  so  far  beneath  the  '  fowls,'  and  worry 
over  food  and  drink,  when  his  first  duty  is  to  seek 
the  kingdom  of  God  and  His  righteousness  ! 

D.  A.  MACKINNON. 
FOX  (aXdnrrj^).— Foxes  and  jackals  are  referred 
to  indiscriminately  in  Scripture,  although  the  fo.x 
is  someAvhat  smaller  in  size,  and  is  generally  found 
singly,  whereas  jackals  prowl  around  villages  in 
small  packs.  Both  animals  are  of  a  timid  nature, 
and  exhibit  similar  cunning  and  stealth  in  securing 
their  prey,  and  live  in  deserted  ruins  and  among 
the  rocks  of  the  mountain  gorges.  Christ's  allusion 
to  them  (Mt  8-",  Lk  9^)  takes  its  meaning  from  the 
fact  that  while  places  of  refuge  and  rest  were 
definitely  allotted  to  such  outcast  creatures,  tlie 
Son  of  Man  had  not  where  to  lay  His  head.  His 
reference  to  Herod  as  a  fox  (Lk  13'-)  is  not  only 
expressive  of  contempt,  but  may  allude  to  the 
cause  of  the  king's  hostility :  he  was  the  invader  of 
vineyards  who  had  taken  his  brother's  wife.  The 
verses  that  follow'  also  indicate  that  Christ's  death 
must  be  otherwise  brought  about.  The  petty  and 
furtive  intentions  of  Herod  must  give  way  to  the 
grander  rapacity  of  Jerusalem  as  the  historical 
ilestroyer  of  tlie  prophets.  G.  M.  MaCKIE. 

FRAGMENTS  {K\i<r/iaTa,  pieces  broken  for  dis- 
tribution ;  cf.  KXaajiaruv  Apruv  of  LXX  Ezk  13"). — 
AU  the  Synoptists  record  that,  when  the  miraculous 
feeding  of  the  multitude  ended,  the  broken  pieces 
remaining  over  from  the  meal  were  gathered  up  and 
deposited  in  twelve  baskets  (Mt  U-"",  Mk  6",  Lk 
9").  St.  John  adds  that  this  was  done  in  obedience 
to  Christ's  command,  addressed  to  the  disciples,  by 
whom  apparently  the  work  was  performed  (Jn  6'-). 
The  surplus  thus  collected  far  exceeded  the  amount 
of  the  original  stock,  and  bore  witness  to  the  abun- 
dance of  the  meal  partaken  of.  The  carefulness 
shown  in  collecting  the  remnants  of  food  was 
intended  to  avoid  any  appearance  of  waste,  and 
served  to  correct  any  tendency  to  undervalue  what 
had  come  to  the  recipients  so  cheaply.  The  miracle 
was  one  of  the  very  exceptional  cases  in  which 
Christ  provided  for  men's  ordinary  Avants,  was 
wrought  only  in  view  of  the  urgent  necessity  that 
had  arisen  (Mt  14''),  and,  whUe  it  raised  expecta- 
tions of  similar  benefits  in  the  future  (Jn  6-'),  was 
not  designed  to  produce  this  result.  The  storing 
of  the  fragments  for  future  use  would  tend  to 
indicate  that  such  miracles  were  not  to  be  every- 
day occurrences.  As  in  all  Christ's  miracles,  there 
is  strict  economy  of  supernatural  resources,  which 
are  resorted  to  only  when  natural  resources  fail. 
W.  S.  Montgomery. 

FRANKINCENSE  (mh^i,  Xl^Sa.-os).  —  One  of  the 
iiii;i.-.liiiits  of  incense  (.iTep),  Ex  30**,  and  one  of 
1 1  !•■  u  i  ft  -  1  irought  by  the  Magi  to  the  infant  Saviour 
(Mt  .'"i.  The  name  is  derived  from  p^  'to  be 
\\hite.'  akin  to  which  is  liib^oi,  the  name  by  which 
frankincense  is  known  in  Arabia.  It  is  a  fragrant 
gum  or  resin,  the  produce  of  the  tree  Boswcllia 
Srn-nta,  of  tlie  natural  order  Amyridacefe,  from 
which  it  is  obtained  by  slitting  the  bark.     The 


FREEDOM 


FREE  WILL 


tree  itself  is  a  native  of  Central  and  Southern 
India,  whence  the  gum,  ■which  requires  no  further 
prejjaration  than  being  allowed  to  harden,  is  ex- 
ported to  Europe,  the  yellowish  or  inferior  quality 
in  larger  quantities  than  the  white.  Some  un- 
certainty has  existed  as  to  the  source  of  the  supply. 
It  seems  clear  that  no  such  tree  existed  in  Palestine, 
but  that  the  frankincense  used  tliere  was  imported 
through  Arabia  (cf.  Is  60°,  Jer  6"",  where  '  incense  ' 
in  AV  ought  to  be  'frankincense,'  and  is  mi  rendered 
in  KV).  The  opening  up  of  Imliri  \'\  liii(:iiii  made 
it  plain  that  the  source  of  the  --niiiily,  wliirh  had 
previously  come  through  Persia,  amis  lo  be  found 
there. 

The  ritual  use  of  frankincense,  in  the  OT  as 
among  the  heathen,  denotes  direct  adoration.  It 
is  burned  as  an  apjiendaye  to  the  minhdh  (Lv  2-). 
According  to  ul.l  :illc.u..i  izinn  traditions,  the  frank- 
incense oH'ered  liv  tlie  -M.iui  ^i.uiiilird  tlir  Divinity 
of  the  Holy  ClnUl.  tii.'  ,i;ol,l  r.'prrsrntiii-  His 
royalty,  the  niynli  either  His  healing  poN\ers  or 
His  prospect  of  sufi'ering. 

LiTERATDRB. — Birdwood,  The  Gemis  BosiueUia,  London,  1870, 
also  in  Trmis.  Linn.  Society,  xxvii.,  1871 ;  Encyc.  Britfi  art. 
•  t>ankincense.'  S.  J.  RaMSAY  SIBBALD. 

FREEDOM.— See  Fkee  AVill  and  Liberty. 

FREE  WILL. — It  is  not  ea.sy  to  give  a  definition 
of  Free  Will  that  is  not  tautological, — indeed, 
strictly  speaking,  it  cannot  be  defined.  It  may, 
however,  be  described  as  the  ability  to  determine 
within  oneself  as  to  one's  acts  or  courses  of  action. 
We  have  not  anywhere  in  the  Gospels  or,  indeed, 
in  the  NT  mention  made  in  specific  terms  of  Free 
Will,  or  any  statement  made  in  so  many  words 
that  either  tlie  Divine  will  or  the  will  of  man  is 
free.  We  have  little,  in  fact,  of  philosophical  or 
philosophico-theological  discussion  of  any  kind  in 
the  NT.  The  nearest  approach  to  such  a  thing  is 
in  Bo  9""-'',  where  the  question  of  human  freedom 
is  approached,  and  even  there  such  discussion  is 
rather  deprecated,  as  verging  on  impiety,  than 
entered  upon.  But  while  the  question  of  the  free- 
dom of  the  will,  whctlier  tlie  will  of  God  or  the 
will  of  man,  is  not  foriji.'illy  dealt  with  in  the  NT, 
it  is  quite  plain  that  ( iud  is  regarded  as  acting 
freely,  and  that  man  is  recognized  as  a  free 
agent. 

1.  That  God  is  not  bound  by  any  necessity  ex- 
ternal to  Himself,  that  He  acts  according  to  the 
counsel  of  His  will,  is  r.athcr  to  Ije  gathered  from 
the  general  sjiirit  *ii  Scripture  teaching  than  to  be 
deduced  from  partiiul.ir  passages.  The  freedom  of 
the  Divine  will  is,  indeed,  plainly  implied,  although 
not  explicitly  mentioned,  in  such  words  as  (Ko 
USj-sc)^  'For  who  hath  kno\vn  the  mind  of  the 
Lord?  or  who  hath  been  his  counsellor?  or  who 
hath  first  given  to  him,  and  it  shall  be  recom- 
pensed unto  him  again  ?  For  of  hiiii,  .md  Ihrou^li 
him,  and  to  him  are  all  things  :  (.i\\li..iu  Iii-I,,iy 
for  ever.  Amen.'  But  Scripture  siiii|il\  accepts 
the  freedom  of  the  Divine  will  lathir  than  fdvni- 
ally  states  it.  We  cannot,  howe\-er,  think  of  God 
as  acting  other  than  freely,  if  we  are  to  accept 
Him  as  a  living  God  at  all.  Did  we  suppose  that 
there  _w,as  any  necessity  outside  of  Himself  con- 
straining Him  to  act  in  a  certain  waj-,  we  should 
be  making  an  impersonal  force  the  true  Deity. 
We  are  constrainetl  to  believe  that  God  acts  freely. 
Yet  to  say  that  the  Most  High  acts  freely  does  not 
mean  that  He  acts  capriciously.  He  acts  in  accord- 
ance \yith  His  own  nature.  "VVe  can  conceive  that 
He  miglit  have  made  the  material  universe  other 
than  He  has  made  it,  but  we  cannot  conceive  Him 
as  acting  otherwise  than  in  love  and  holiness  and 
justice.  Still,  the  necessity  by  whicli,  in  a  sense. 
He  may  be  said  to  act  where  His  nroral  govern- 


ment is  concerned  is  simply  the  necessity  of  being 
true  to  His  own  nature. 

2.  That  man  is  a  free  agent  is  not  stated  in  so 
many  words  in  the  NT,  but  is  assumed  everywhere. 
Surely  when  our  Lord  said  (Mt  11-")  'Come  unto 
me  all  ye  that  labour,'  and  (Jn  5^")  '  Ye  will  not 
come  to  me  that  ye  might  have  life,'  He  accepted 
the  freedom  of  man  as  a  reality.  No  doubt  He 
also  said  (Jn  G'"),  '  No  man  can  come  unto  me 
except  the  Father  which  hath  sent  me  draw  him.' 
But  in  sajang  so  He  did  not  mean  that  men  were 
mere  passive  instruments,  but  simply  that  all  that 
appealed  to  the  heart  in  favour  of  spiritual  living 
was  from  on  lii;jh,  Mh.iue  also  all  spiritual  aids 
came.  Tlios(..  wh,,  hoM  th.at_  the  will  is  not  free, 
or,  as  we  sliouM  laihci  put  it,  that  men  are  not 
free  to  will,  do  not  as  a  rule  argue  so  much  from 
Scripture,  although  they  may  do  that  in  part,  as 
from  philosophical  grounds,  and  what  they  regard 
as  experience.  No  doubt  those  «ho  regard  liberty 
as  incompatible  with  predestination  may  argue 
that  predestination  is  the  plain  doctrine  of  Scrip- 
ture, but  the  conclusion  that  because  predestination 
is  the  doctrine  of  Scripture  m.an  cannot  be  free  is 
their  own,  and  is  not  taught  in  Scripture.  Whether 
man  is  free  or  not  is  to  a  large  extent  a  question 
of  merely  academic  interest,  although  not  wholly 
so.  We  all  act  upon  the  hypothesis  that  we  are 
free.  Certainly  the  conclusion  that  men  are  not 
free  operates  against  contrition  for  sin  and  repent- 
ance,— hinders  one  from  feeling  that  he  is  guilty 
before  God, — and  perhaps  it  is  partly  with  the 
desire  to  get  rid  of  the  sense  of  sin  th.it  some  men 

argue  against  our  possession  of  fi lom.     lUit  in  a 

general  way  we  proceed  on  \\\i\  assumption  that 
men  are  free  agents,  hence  tlic  ilisciission  of  free- 
dom is  mainly  one,  as  we  have  said,  of  academic 
interest.  Scripture,  as  before  remarked,  accepts 
man's  freedom  as  a  fact,  and  we  all  have  the 
consciousness  of  being  free.  It  is  argued,  however, 
on  various  gnumds  (hal  tin-  smsc  of  freedom  which 
we  have  is  illusive.  In  his  itidliur  .;/'  Cliri-ili^ni 
Thcolorfi/lh.  \V.  N.  Claike  iiieiil  urns  four  .uroumls 
on  which  the  doctrine  of  human  freedom  is  dial- 
lenged :  viz.  (a)  Fatalism,  (i)  I'redestinarianism, 
(c)  Necessitarianism,  (rf)  Determinism. 

(«)_  There  is  perhaps  no  need  of  seriously  discuss- 
ing Fiifr'Jhm,  which  seems  to  be  a  mere  philosophy 
of  cle-p,iir.  W'r  all  at  times  feel  the  strange  in- 
evitalileui  -~  of  tilings,  but  fatalism  cannot  com- 
mend itself  lo  us  as  a  reasoned  philosophy. 

(Ij)  Fni/rs/i,iiirn/iii\-iii  in  some  form  or  other 
we  can  hanlly  avoid  .accepting,  if  we  believe  in 
an  ordered  univer-e  ;  .-nid  to  resolve  predestina- 
tion, in  so  far  as  r:ition:il  and  moral  beings  are 
concerned,  into  simple  foreknow  Icdt^e,  dues  not 
materially,  or  at  least  very  maieri.illy.  help  us. 
Of  course  it  may  be  argued  that  the  knowledge 
that  a  thing  is  to  occur  docs  not  necessarily 
inijily  that  the  doer  of  it  must  do  it.  From 
the  .intece.h'uls  of  a  man  we  may  judge  tolerably 
veil  what  his  course  of  action  in  given  circum- 
stances \y\\\  he,  hut.  our  knowledge  as  to  how  he  is 
likely  to  act  does  not  .illect  his  freedom, — does  not 
compel  hini  to  .ui  in  (he  way  foreseen.  And  so,  it 
may  be  argued,  the  limine  foreknowledge  of  an 
action  docs  not  ni.ike  (he  action  inevitable,  does 
not  make  it  one  that  must  be  done.  And  this  is 
perhaps  fonn.illy  fine,  hut  it  is  only  formally  so. 
What  God  foresees  will  he  done  has  a  material  in- 
evitableness  about  it,  and  will  just  as  surely  be  done 
as  if  it  had  been  predestinated.  And  if  an  action 
is  predestinated,  or  even  Divinely  foreseen  as  being 
sure  to  occur,  how  can  it  be  said  that  a 


it  freely  ?  Freedom  ; 
ordination, — even  v 
no  reasoning,  ho%\i 
ever  make  us  lose  I 


does 
natible  with  fore- 
cnowledge.  Yet 
nay  apjiear,  can 
dum.     We  may 


FREE  WILL 


FRIENDSHIP 


try  to  persuade  ourselves  tliat  we  are  not  free,  but 
the  sense  of  freedom  will  remain  with  us  notwith- 
standinj;,  and  w'c  shall  go  on  acting  as  if  we  were 
free. 

(c)  Wc  may  say  about  Necessitarianmii,  or  the 
doctrine  that  every  volition  is  caused  by  its  ante- 
cedents, that  it  is  in  a  way  true,  but  that,  as  urged 
against  the  freedom  of  the  will,  it  neglects  con- 
sideration of  the  fact  that  we  ourselves  are  contri- 
buting all  along  to  the  antecedents  which  so  far 
determine  every  volition. 

{d)  And  with  regard  to  Determinism,  or  the 
doctrine  that  all  volitions  are  determined  by 
motives  acting  on  the  will,  it  majr  be  said  that  it 
also  is  true,  but  that  motives  acting  on  the  will 
are  not  like  forces  acting  on  a  body  and  pro- 
ducing a  resultant  which  may  be  mathematically 
calculated.  Our  motives  are  our  own  feelings  and 
desires,  however  these  may  be  affected  by  objects 
without  us,  and  our  decisions  to  act  depend  upon 
what  we  are,  though  that  is  not  simply  what,  as 
we  might  say,  nature  has  made  us,  but  what  to  a 
large  extent  we  have  made  ourselves.  To  suppose 
that  we  can  act  without  motive  of  some  kind 
would  be  to  suppose  what  is  contrary  to  all  ex- 
perience, for  we  are  always  more  or  less  conscious 
of  being  influenced  by  motives,  but  the  action  of 
motives  is  no  mere  mechanical  action.  Our  free- 
dom, indeed,  as  Martensen  {Christian  Ethics,  §  31, 
pp.  109,  110)  well  points  out,  is  conditioned,  not 
absolute.  We  are  not  free  save  within  certain 
limits,  and  many  things— our  native  tendency  to 
sin,  heredity,  environment,  above  all  the  force  of 
habit — operate  against  our  acting  freely  in  accord- 
ance with  our  consciousness  of  what  is  best.  But 
the  sense  of  freedom  which  we  possess  is  not 
illusive.  We  need,  doubtless,  the  Divine  aid  in 
order  to  true  religious  living.  But  we  are  bound 
by  no  iron  chain  of  necessity.  We  are,  save  in 
.so  far  as  we  may  have  ourselves  enslaved  our 
wills,  bound  by  no  outward  or  inward  constraint 
to  will  other  than  the  good.  And  even  the  enslaved 
will  can  be  made  free  by  Divine  grace. 

3.  The  notion  of  moral  freedom  which  is  pre- 
sented in  the  NT  differs  from  all  merely  philo- 
sophical ideas  on  the  subject.  Here  freedom  means 
the  being  set  free  from  the  bondage  of  sin,  and 
thus  enabled  to  realize  the  ideal  of  human  nature 
as  created  in  the  image  of  God  {Ro  6*'f).  The 
freedom  of  the  Christian  will  lies  not  in  the  power 
to  do  whatsoever  we  please,  but  in  the  power  to 
choose  and  follow  that  for  which  God  Jnade  us. 
God  Himself  is  absolutely  free,  precisely  because 
He  is  the  absolutely  perfect  moral  Being ;  and 
Christ's  power  to  make  others  free  springs  from 
His  own  Divine  freedom — that  moral  oneness  with 
the  Father  in  the  strength  of  which  He  did  always 
the  things  that  were  pleasing  to  Him  ( Jn  8-').  In 
Christ's  gospel  a  freedom  after  His  own  pattern  is 
oft'ered  to  all.  The  Son  can  make  us  free  so  that 
we  shall  be  free  indeed  (Jn  S*').  This  freedom 
comes  from  union  with  Christ,  for  apart  from  Him 
we  can  do  nothing  (Jn  15'').  The  doctrine  of  the 
indwelling  of  Christ  through  the  Holy  Spirit,  and 
tlie  consequent  endowment  of  His  disciples  with 
freedom  and  power,  was  taught,  according  to  the 
Fourth  Gospel,  by  Jesus  Himself  (see  esp.  14-17). 
It  is  constantly  enforced  by  St.  Paul  as  the  testi- 
mony of  his  own  experience.  Apart  from  the  law 
of  the  Spirit  of  life  in  Christ  Jesus,  the  will  is 
I)Owerless  to  realize  its  own  ideals  (Ro  V^"-  S""-). 
But  in  accepting  Christ  as  our  Ma.<iter,  and  jield- 
ing  to  His  law  as  supreme,  we  pass  into  '  the 
glorious  liberty  of  the  children  of  God.'  See, 
further.  Liberty. 

LiTgRATORE.— Art.  'Will'  in  Ha.stiiiKs'  Dli;  Martensen,  Chris- 
tian Ethics;  T.  H.  Green,  I'roleriomf.na  to  Ethics;  .Sir  W. 
Hamilton,  Discxtssitms  (appendix,  I'hilosophical) ;  A.  M.  Fair- 


Albrecht 


bairn.  Thf!  Philosophy  o/  the  Christian  Religio 
KitSL'hl,  Jttstijicatimi  aiid  Reconciliation ;  J.  R.  iiimijworth. 
Reason  and  Revelation ;  W.  N.  Clarke,  Outline  of  Christian 
Theolofjy  ;  R.  Anchor  Thompson,  Christian  Theism  ;  and  Philo- 
sophical and  Theological  works  in  general. 

(iEORiiE  C.  Watt  and  J.  C.  Lambkrt. 
FRIENDSHIP.  1.  Pre-Christian  and  Chris- 
tian I  iiiKMisiiii'.  —  Friendship  was  esteemed 
aincing  llie  |iaj;;ins  and  received  memorable  treat- 
ment at  the  hands  of  Aristotle  {Ethics,  Bks.  viii. 
and  ix.)  and  Cicero  {de  Amicitia).  The  latter  said, 
'  There  is  nothing  in  the  world  more  valuable  than 
friendship.'  Je\vish  literature  treated  the  same 
subject,  as,  for  example,  in  Sirach  {&%  '  There 
is  nothing  that  can  be  taken  in  exchange  for  a 
faithful  friend.'  This  appreciation  of  friendship  as 
one  of  the  chief  means  of  happiness  throws  light 
upon  the  ancient  attitude.  The  mutual  kindness 
of  friends,  considered  necessary  to  complete  the 
happiness  even  of  the  philosopher,  but  which  was 
conlined  to  those  of  the  same  school  or  character, 
makes  more  prominent  the  absence  of  benevolence 
from  the  ancient  system  of  virtue.  Christianity 
has  also  a  high  regard  for  friendship,  has  ennobled 
it,  but  has  at  the  same  time  placed  limitations 
upon  it. 

(1)  The  enlargement  of  Christian  friendship  is 
twofold,  {a)  The  area  within  which  the  grace  may 
be  displayed  is  much  extended  by  the  teaching  of 
Christianity  upon  the  dignity  of  woman,  whereby 
marriage  loses  any  trace  of  the  oft'ence  with  which 
even  many  enlightened  Jews  regarded  it,*  and  be- 
comes alufty  fritiidship.  (6)  This  is  further  enlarged 
by  thi-  II. 'W  i'lial  of  benevolence,  which  is  to  pene- 
trate .ill  I  lie  reldtions  of  life.  Humanity  has  been 
dignilied  liy  llie  Incarnation.  Christian  Ethics  is 
not  the  successor  to  the  virtues  of  paganism,  but  the 
new  spirit  that  turned  patriotism  into  brotherhood, 
elevated  friendship  into  universal  love ;  ^iXia  be- 
comes 4>i\aSe\<j>ia.  The  exceptional  exhibitions  of 
goodwill  and  charity  displayed  by  heathen,  re- 
markable because  of  their  contrast  with  the  preva- 
lent selfishness,  are  taken  for  granted  among  the 
members  of  the  Kingdom  of  God.  Friendship 
ceases  to  be  a  luxury  and  becomes  a  responsibility. 
Love,  the  root  of  all  Christian  virtues,  must  per- 
vade all  the  performances  of  life. 

(2)  The  limitation  placed  upon  friendship  in 
the  new  religion  follows  from  the  doctrine  of  the 
Divine  friendship,  which  causes  a  complete  re- 
adjustment of  human  thought.  The  pagans  found 
little  s|iiritiinl  rest  or  inspiration  in  their  religion, 
and  liuiiKiu  fii.ielship  was  neither  a  reflexion  nor 
a  su-^(~iiun  ni  a  1  livme  fellowship.  With  Christ, 
ho\ve\ei,  the  lo\e  for  God  is  paramount,  and  re- 
ceives an  importance  far  beyond  any  other  relation- 
ship. '  Ye,  my  friends,  shall  leave  me  alone :  and 
yet  I  am  not  alone,  for  the  Father  is  with  me '  (Jn 
le^'').  To  furnish  this  higher  friendship  is  the 
mission  of  Christ.  He  has  come  that  we  may  have 
the  power  to  become  sons  of  God  (Jn  V-).  Religion 
takes  precedence  over  friendship :  man  may  not 
usurp  God's  place.  The  gospel  which  teaches  that 
man  attains  his  exaltation  according  as  he  bows 
down  in  humble  submission  to  the  will  of  God, 
necessarily  modifies  the  view  that  human  com- 
panionship is  the  most  valuable  thing  in  the  world. 
The  Christian  doctrine  of  God  recasts  everything 
in  a  new  mould.  Theology  reacts  upon  anthro- 
pology. '  God  is  the  beginning  and  foundation  of 
all  true  and  lasting  friendship '  (Zwingli). 

2.  The  teaching  of  Jesus  on  friendship. — 
This  is  suggestive  and  incidental  rather  than 
formal  and  detailed.  In  parables  anil  conversa- 
tions Christ  indirectly  drops  sentences  which  show 
how  general  was  His  observation  of  all  the  relations 
into  which  people  might  enter.    (1)  In  the  parables 

•  But  cf.  Pr  SVO";  and  Sir  402-1  'A  friend  and  companion 
never  meet  amiss,  but  above  both  is  a  wife  with  her  husband.' 


FRIENDSHIP 


FRIENDSHIP 


623 


of  the  Lost  Slieep  and  the  Lost  Piece  of  Silver,  lie 
touches  upon  the  iimcli  <lebated  basis  oi  friendshii). 
The  j(iy(ius  disci. \  cry  of  lost  possession  leads  to 
social  cuiiiiiimiidii.  '  llo  (she)  calleth  together  his 
(her)  frifiiils  ;iiiil  m-ighliours,  saying.  Rejoice  with 
me'  (Lk  ly'*-").  Tins' act  is  the  natural  result  of 
the  instinct  for  association.  The  consciousness  of 
joy  breaks  through  the  bounds  of  individualism 
and  runs  over  into  the  sphere  of  human  companion- 
ship ;  for  the  feeling  that  life's  great  emotions  are 
too  strong  for  narrow  limits  constrains  men  to 
seek  this  expansion  among  others.  The  soul  de- 
lights in  self-revelation.  '  But  no  receijit  openeth 
the  heart  but  a  true  friend  :  To  whom  you  may 
impart,  Griefes,  Joyes,  Fears,  Hopes,  Suspicions, 
Counsels,  and  whatsoever  lieth  upon  the  Heart ' 
(Bacon).  This  sjjontaneous  overflow,  due  to  the 
instinct  of  association,  has  been  implanted  by 
God ;  and  friendship  is  thus  one  of  the  good  gifts 
of  Heaven.  Cicero  also  assigned  a  similar  spon- 
taneity to  this  virtue. 

(2)  Several  types  oi  false  friendship  are  suggested 
by  Jesus,  (a)  The  parable  of  the  Unjust  Steward 
(Lk  16'-"),  '  who  made  friends  out  of  the  mammon 
of  unrighteousness,'  illustrates  the  commercial  type. 
The  material  comforts  of  fellowship  are  gained 
by  a  clever  distribution  of  money  favours  apart 
from  all  sympathy  of  heart  or  mind  ;  and  though 
Christ  neither  commends  nor  condemns.  He  in- 
directly reveals  His  mind  in  the  remark,  '  The 
chOdren  of  this  world  are  in  their  generation 
wiser  than  the  children  of  liglit'  (v.^*).  But  true 
friendship  is  disinterested,  and  seeks  the  welfare 
of  another  rather  than  its  own.  '  Friendsljip  is 
the  wishing  a  person  what  we  tliiiik  good  for  his 
sake  and  not  for  our  own,  anil,  as  far  as  is  in  our 
power,  the  exerting  ourselves  to  procure  it '  (Aris- 
totle, Ehet.  ii.  4). — (6)  The  exclusive  type  of  friend- 
sliip  is  displayed  in  the  parable  of  the  Prodigal  Son 
(Lk  15).  The  outwardly  proper  behaviour  of  the 
elder  brother  is  marred  by  tlie  lack  of  filial  love  ; 
and  his  complaint,  '  Thou  never  gavest  me  a  kid 
that  I  might  make  merry  with  my  friends,'  shows 
how  blind  he  was  to  the  lavish  affection  of  a  father 
who  bestowed  his  all  tipon  him, — '  Son,  thou  art 
ever  with  me,  and  all  tliat  I  have  is  thine. '  The 
son  looked  for  a  friendship  apart  from  the  nobler 
comiianionship  of  a  loving  father.  His  licart  was 
not  really  in  the  home,  for  his  secret  longing  was 
for  the  frivolous  joys  of  tlie  world,  the  merry- 
making with  friends,  which  he  will  have  in  isola- 
tion from  the  love  of  home.  The  unjileasant  im- 
pression left  by  the  picture  of  tlio  elder  brother 
i.s  Christ's  way  of  giving  His  opinion  of  a  friend- 
ship which  shuts  itself  up  within  the  circle  of 
favourite  comrades,  and  is  careless  of  the  higher 
claims  of  love  and  benevolence.  It  then  be- 
comes a  refined  selfishness. — (c)  The  irresponsible 
type  is  described  in  Lk  IP'*,  where  the  house- 
liolder  is  so  comfortably  settled  in  bed  that  he 
refuses  to  rise  and  give  bread  to  a  friend,  who  is 
unexpectedly  called  upon  to  show  a  greater  service 
to  his  friend.  '  Friend,  lend  me  tliree  loaves,  for 
a  friend  of  mine  in  his  journey  is  come  to  me.' 
Friendship  here  recognizes  no  responsibilities,  and 
will  not  discommode  itself  to  tlie  extent  of  getting 
out  of  bed.  Are  we  mistaken  in  seeing  a  touch  of 
irony  in  this  portrayal  of  a  bond  which  lasted  only 
with  tlie  enjoyment  of  benclils,  hut  c(mld  mil 
stand  the  strain  of  any  persuii.il  iiiconvciiiciicc  v 
Friendship  is  mutual  assistance.  '  A  friend  lovuth 
at  all  times,  and  a  brother  is  born  for  adversity ' 
(Pr  17"). 

(3)  The  claim  of  old  friends  was  recognized  by 
Jesus  when  He  cast  out  the  devils  from  'Legion' 
(Mk  5'").  The  evil  spirit,  always  an  isolating 
influence,  had  excluded  this  unliajipy  man  from 
the  comforts  of  home  and  companionshii).     But 


when  he  is  healed  and  the  craving  for  intercourse 
is  awakened,  .lesus  directs  it  to  old  channels : 
•.le.Mis  sailh  luito  hini,  (Jo  home  to  thy  friends  and 
ti'll  tliciii  how  ure.-it  tilings  the  Lord  hath  done  for 
tlie('.'  'I'liese  associates  and  guardians  of  his  youth 
had  borne  with  him  through  the  evil  days,  and 
Jesus  will  not  he  a  partner  to  any  indifi'erence  to 
those  obligations  contracted  by  former  benefits. 
He  knew  how  keen  was  the  sting  of  '  friend  re- 
membered not.' 

(4)  Jesus  placed  restrictions  upon  friendship  at 
the  feast  given  by  the  rich  Pharisee,  and  con- 
denmed  the  selfish  narrowing  of  the  acts  of  hos- 
pitality. '  When  thou  makest  a  dinner  or  a  feast 
do  not  call  tliy  friends  .  .  .  but  call  the  poor' 
(Lk  141"  i3)_  rf lie  force  of  the  verb  is  not  prohibi- 
tive, but  restrictive  :  '  Do  not  habitually  call '  (mt; 
iptSivei).  Friendship  must  have  open  doors,  and 
recognize  the  larger  hospitality.  Thus  Jesus 
broadened  the  stream  of  friendship  by  bringing 
neighbours  within  the  same  flow  of  feeling,  as  is 
set  forth  in  the  parable  of  the  Good  Samaritan 
(Lk  103»f-)-  'Thou  Shalt  lo\e  thy  neighbour  as 
thyself.'  Nor  did  Jesus  stop  at  neighbour.  He 
included  enemy  also.  The  Christian  must  have 
no  foes.  '  I  say  unto  you.  Love  your  enemies'  (Mt 
5").  The  sentiment  of  love  nmst  pervade  every 
motive,  filling  the  soul  with  gentle  kindliness. 
Cicero  had  said  that  '  Sweetness  both  in  language 
and  manner  is  a  very  profitable  attraction  in  the 
formation  of  friendship ' ;  but  what  is  with  him  an 
accident  becomes  an  essential  in  the  Kingdom  of 
Jesus.  The  distinctive  word  with  Christ  is  love 
and  not  friendship,  and,  by  reason  of  this,  Chris- 
tianity excels  the  pagan  ideals.  The  new  com- 
mandnient,  '  that  ye  love  one  another '  ( Jn  13**), 
decides  all  matters  of  conduct.  True  friends  will 
not  sanction  any  imperfection,  or  acquiesce  m 
any  weak  neglect  of  talents  in  those  whom  thg^NL 
love ;  while  at  the  same  time  the  charity  of  thejnt' 
gospel  will  bear  all  things,  mil  hope  all  things. 

(5)  Jesus  also  taught  that  the  life  of  love  was 
endless.  The  old  friendships  flourished  under  dark 
skies.  Fears  of  an  awful  end  haunted  them,  and 
when  death  came,  '  They  dreamed  there  would  be 
spring  no  more.'  But  Christ  has  brought  life  and 
inmiortality  to  light  through  His  gospel.  He  has 
spoken  with  certainty  of  the  future,  and  has  made 
the  darkness  beautiful.  The  Christian  poet  can 
rise  out  of  the  calamity  of  interrupted  friendship 
into  the  repose  of  faith  and  self-control. 

'  Far  ofE  thou  art  but  ever  nigh, 
I  have  thee  still  and  I  rejoice  : 
I  prosper,  circled  with  thy  voice : 
I  shall  not  lose  thee  tho'  I  die '  (In  Mcmm-iam,  cxxx.). 

Human  affection  will  pass  through  the  cleansing 
stream  of  death,  and  puriiied  of  all  selfishness  and 
evil  will  be  made  perfect  in  the  presence  of  God. 

3.  The  friendship  of  Jesus.— Christianity  is 
a  life  as  well  as  a  system  of  teaching  ;  and  as  each 
virtue  or  quality  is  best  interpreted  in  the  light  of 
the  highest  example  of  its  kind,  so  also  human 
friendship  becomes  transfigured  by  the  friendship 
which  Jesus  otters  to  all  who  will  receive  Him. 

(1)  T/ic  friendship  of  Jestts  as  revealed  in  t/ie 
Gospels. — These  narratives  show  how  aijproachable 
.Tosus  was.  His  readiness  to  accept  social  invita- 
(ioiis,  to  befriend  all  classes,  to  reveal  His  gracious 
ini'ssa^e,  testifies  to  His  genius  for  friendshii^, 
and  accounts  in  part  for  the  contemptuous  title, 
'Friend  of  publicans  and  .sinners.'  He  chose  twelve 
'  tliat  they  might  be  with  him '  (Mk  3'*),  and  to 
these  He  revealed  what  was  dearest  to  His  heart. 
On  the  Mount  of  Transfiguration  He  admitted 
three  of  them  to  the  vision  of  His  glory  (Mt 
17''"  II):  in  Gethsemane  He  opened  to  the  same 
three  the  door  of  His  grief  (26^'^-"') :  He  told  His 
diseiples  of  the  stern  struggle  with  temptation  in 


FEIENDSHIP 


FRUIT 


tlie  wilderness  of  Judoea.  The  house  at  Bethany 
was  a  second  home  to  Him,  and  His  love  for  'our 
friend  Lazarus '  was  manifested  in  His  visit  to  the 
sisters,  and  in  the  grief  that  overwhelmed  Him  at 
the  grave  (Jn  11). 

In  the  second  jjart  of  the  Fourth  Gospel  the 
affection  of  Jesus  is  seen  to  lack  the  slightest 
'grain  of  depreciation,'  which  Schopenhauer  re- 
commends among  friends.  The  constancy  of  the 
perfect  Friend  is  the  first  theme  of  this  intimate 
writing  (Jn  13-17),  a  constancy  unimpaired  by 
sorrow  or  joy.  The  foreboding  of  death  ( '  knowing 
that  he  would  depart  out  of  this  world ')  threatened 
to  draw  away  His  mind,  as  also  the  vision  of  a 
transcendent  glory  ('that  he  would  depart  unto 
the  Father ')  imperilled  His  attachment ;  but  neither 
the  excess  of  grief  nor  the  ecstasy  of  gladness 
availed  to  weaken  His  fidelity  to  those  whom  He 
had  chosen  ;  '  having  loved  his  own,  he  loved  them 
unto  the  end '  (Jn  13').  In  the  following  chapters 
the  love  of  Jesus  is  unfolded  with  the  eloquence 
peculiar  to  St.  John's  Gospel.  Christ  breathes 
about  them  the  atmosphere  of  God's  glory,  lifts 
up  their  thoughts  to  the  heavenly  home,  filling 
them  with  the  fragrant  truth  of  the  endless  love 
I A  Ciiil,  all  of  which  is  summed  up  in  terms  of 
fricnilship  in  Jn  IS'^-'^  («)  Jesus  is  a  perfect 
fiiend  lieoause  of  His  perso7ial  sacrifice:  'Greater 
love  hath  no  man  than  this,  that  a  man  lay  down 
his  life  for  his  friend'  (v.'").  Sacrifice  is  the  most 
convincing  evidence  in  the  world,  and  the  suiTender 
of  personal  advancement  for  the  sake  of  others  is 
proof  of  the  noble  emotion  of  love.  As  there  is 
nothing  that  a  man  can  give  in  exchange  for  his 
life,  the  death  of  Jesus  for  us  is  the  highest  evi- 
dence of  His  perfect  friendship.  Sacrifice  is  also 
the  food  of  love,  and  friendship  is  growth  in  self- 
sacrificing  love.  Each  self-denial  strengthens  the 
bond  of  attachment,  and  when  sacrifice  is  allowed 
its  perfect  work  it  forms  a  deatliless  union.  Jesus 
experienced  every  stage  of  self-denial,  suppressing 
His  own  desires,  until  His  love,  perfected  through 
suffering,  received  its  crown  and  goal  on  the  Mount 
of  Crucifixion.  The  sacrifice  which  was  the  evi- 
dence of  His  perfect  friendship  was  also  the  only 
sustenance  by  which  perfect  friendship  could  be 
nourished,  (b)  Christ's  friendship  is  an  ethical 
constraint :  '  Ye  are  my  friends  if  ye  do  whatsoever 
I  command  you'  (v.").  He  is  our  kindest  friend 
who  makes  us  do  our  best,  and  who  helps  us  to  do 
what  we  thought  we  could  not  do.  The  conscious- 
ness of  expanding  power  is  purest  joy.  Christ 
arouses  enthusiasm  for  the  holy  life,  imparts  new 
resolves  to  master  temptation,  and  is  the  most 
effectual  aid  in  the  attamment  of  the  ethical  life. 
His  friendship  is  our  better  self,  our  conscience, 
(t)  There  is  intimate  communion  in  the  friendship  of 
Jesus  :  '  Henceforth  I  call  you  not  servants,  but  I 
have  called  you  friends  :  for  all  things  that  I  have 
heard  of  my  Father,  I  have  made  known  unto  you' 
(v.'^).  Friendship  is  fellowship  in  which  undue 
reserve  is  cast  off.  When  Christ  spoke  out  on  the 
most  sacred  matters  of  religion,  and  shared  with 
others  His  knowledge  of  the  Father,  He  did  the 
friendliest  of  acts.  Christ's  love  was  the  most 
intimate  relation  into  which  any  man  could  enter, 
and  TTi-  ii-im  y,  devotion,  communion,  and  in- 
Kpinii     I  II    I L  t  he  first  place  among  friends. 

C-'i  "  "f  Jesus  as  revealed  in  Chris- 

tiiiii  ,    ■  The  limits  of  human  friendship 

are  many,  ami  Mijui'st  the  blessings  which  all 
believers  in  I  lui-i  h:i\.  injoyed  by  their  union 
with  the  liviirj  Sni  nii.  In  our  human  relation- 
ships no  word--  arc  .lili.iiiate  to  express  the  subtler 
and  more  refined  emotions  and  convictions  of  the 
soul,  so  that  when  we  strive  to  reveal  our  true  self 
we  stammer.  Besides,  we  often  cannot  define  these 
things  to  ourselves,  and  we  require  one  who  will 


first  tell  us  our  dream  and  then  interpret  it.  In- 
lios]iitality  of  soul  and  our  native  bashfulness 
impede  communion,  while  the  sense  of  defect  or 
un  worthiness  restricts  our  fellowship.  Differences 
of  exjjerience  separate  us,  so  that  we  cannot  match 
each  other's  moods.  Distance  and  change  of  occu- 
pation place  physical  barriers,  while  too  often  the 
faults  of  temper  and  vexing  cares  drive  apart  those 
who  once  were  knit  together  in  sympathy.  How 
precarious  is  our  hold  upon  a  friendship  which 
'  death,  a  few  light  words,  a  piece  of  stamped 
paper,'  can  destroy.  But  Jesus  transcends  all 
these  limits  of  human  friendship.  His  spirit  can 
commune  -vvith  our  spirits  apart  from  language. 
He  knows  us  altogether,  and  needs  not  that  any 
should  tell  Him.  He  is  master  of  large  experience, 
having  been  tempted  in  all  points  like  as  we  are, 
yet  without  sin.  Physical  barriers  are  all  removed, 
since  He  will  never  go  away  from  us  or  forsake 
us.  He  is  the  same  yestei-day,  to-day,  and  for 
ever.  The  universal  testimony  of  the  Christian 
Church  is  that  as  we  abide  in  the  presence  of  Jesus 
by  prayer,  self-denial,  and  meditation,  we  are  up- 
lifted in  soul,  encouraged  in  our  holy  endeavours, 
and  made  partakers  of  spiritual  joy.  The  believer 
finds  that  Christ  is  the  way  to  the  Father,  that 
Jesus  leads  us  to  that  communion  with  God  which 
is  the  greatest  fact  of  all  the  world.  Religion  is 
friendship  between  the  believer  and  the  living 
Christ. 

LiTEBATfKE.— Aristotle,  Ethics;  Cicero,  de  Amicitia;  PRK\ 
art.  '  Freuudschatt ' ;  I.t'inuie,  Die  Freundnchaft,  Heilbronn, 
1S97  ;  Bacon,  /.-."'.  i,ol,|,!i  Tivi-nri  Series,  1892,  p.  100; 
Huffti  Blaik,    /  1'      ,11:    ,   r.riefe,  Leipzig,  1903; 

Tennyson,    /-'     W  Mmi.ii.m,    christian  Ethics,  iii. 

-2fif.;  Stalker,  /„<,^;    '  /, ,     '  ,  :;■•.:. 

Ja.mls  ^y.  Falconer. 
FRINGES.— See  Bordek. 

FRUIT.— The  consideration  of  this  term  as  it  is 
used  in  the  Gospels  divides  itself  into  three  parts  : 
(1)  The  natural  application  of  the  word  'fruit' 
(rapTris)  to  the  products  of  the  field  and  the 
orchard  ;  (2)  other  references  to  fruit  under  their 
specific  names  ;  (3)  the  spiritual  lessons  deriveil 
from  these  allusions. 

1.  In  its  natui-al  sense  the  word  '  fruit '  is  used  : 
(«)  in  reference  to  grain-crops  (Mt  13*,  Mk  4",  Lk 
8*  12");  (b)  physiologically,  of  the  fruit  of  the 
womb  (Lk  1^-) ;  (c)  of  the  fruit  of  (a)  trees  gene- 
rally (Mt  3",  Lk  3")  ;  (j3)  the  fig-tree  (Mt  21",  Mk 
11'*,  Lk  13«)  ;  (7)  the  vine  (Mt  21-",  Mk  1-2-,  Lk  2ui"). 

2.  Other  references  to  fruits  under  their  speiilic 
names,  without  the  use  of  the  word  'fruit'  :  (r() 
grapes  (Mt  7'^  Lk  6") ;  (6)  figs  (Mt  7'*,  Mk  11'^ 
Lk  6«)  ;  (c)  husks  (Lk  15'«,  probably  the  fruit  of 
the  carob  or  locust-tree);  (d)  mulberry  (Lk  17")  ; 
(c)  olives  (Mt  21').  Probably  the  '  thorns '  (fi/cai-flai) 
alluded  to  in  Mt  7"^  are  not  the  so-called  '  Apple 
of  Sodom,'  but  a  generic  term  covering  all  sorts 
of  prickly  plants.  The  parallel  use  with  '  thistles ' 
(Tpi(3oXoi)  suggests  that  the  fruit  was  inconsider- 
able. 

3.  Sjyiritual  lessons. — Christ  Himself  is  inti- 
mately associated  with  {a)  the  Divine  quest  of 
fruit  ;  (6)  the  Divine  creation  of  fruit  ;  (c)  the 
Divine  suffering  and  sacrifice  of  fruit-production. 
The  processes  of  agriculture  and  horticulture  are 
also,  in  many  ways,  utilized  as  symbols  of  the 
Christian's  culture  of  the  soul. 

{a)  Jesus  describes  Himself  (Mt  21,  Lk  20)  under 
the  figure  of  the  Son  whom  the  Master  of  the  Vine- 
yard sends  to  ask  fruit  of  the  Iiusbandman.  Our 
life  is  a  rich  gift  to  us  from  God  ;  it  is  a  garden 
Avhich  God  has  designed  with  lavish  care,  endowed 
with  unlimited  possibilities,  and  handed  over  to 
our  complete  control.  He  has  a  right  to  expect 
that  we  should  use  our  opportunitir^  .,  ell. 

(6)  Jesus  uses  the  figure  of  the  Xim-  ('n  15)  and 


FRUIT 


FULFILMENT 


yj.0 


the  Branches  to  express  tlie  vital  and  mysterious 
connexion  that  exists  between  Himself  and  His 
disciples,  and  the  necessity  for  our  dependence 
upon  Him  and  His  continuous  ins|iiration,  if  wc 
are  to  brin-  forth  fruit.     It  is  our  n-sponsiliility  to 

'abide  in  Him'    liy  kivpinn    His  c u]andm(.'n(s. 

But  it  is  His  o)ili,iUi..n  U,  vu-.iW  the  fruit.  W.' 
who  cannot  so  much  as  niakr  a  liladii  of  j;rass  j^row 
without  His  co-operation,  are  not  expecteil  to 
accomplish  the  impossible  and  bring  forth  fruit  of 
ourselves. 

(c)  Jesus  manifestly  alludes  to  His  own  death 
and  sacrifice  (Jn  12-^)  under  the  allegory  of  the 
grain  of  wheat  which  falls  into  the  ground  and 
dies,  and  afterwards  rises  in  tlie  new  life  of  the 
fruit.  This  figure  betokens  the  utter  consecration 
and  determination  of  the  holiness  of  God  to  our 
redemption.  We  are  apt  to  shudder  and  tremble 
before  the  holiness  of  God,  as  a  thing  of  terrible 
and  inaccessible  majesty  associated  with  the  Great 
White  Throne.  That  is  because  we  have  not 
taken  full  views,  but  have  isolated  one  part  from 
the  rest.  God  is  glorious  in  His  holiness  (Fs  145)  ; 
it  is  siich  holiness  as  man  praises  when  he  sees  it ; 
it  is  hospitable,  friendly,  and  devoted  to  our  wel- 
fare. It  is  determined  even  unto  death  to  share 
its  joy  and  health  and  purity  with  us  (Jn  12'''''  17'"). 

In  the   Miis.iiin  (if  tlio  Vatican  there  is  a  little  glass  relic, 

taken  frniii  ;',,r(':ii,' nhs  ;  it  was  made  as  an  ornament  to  be 

worn  rouiiil  I  1h  rn  <  k  oi  ;i  woman,  and  was  found  in  her  grave  ; 
it  reprt^sriris  <:iiri^l  hru\'Xu\'^  again  the  frviit  of  the  Tree  of 
Life.*  TliaL  rcUu  sinuiiiarizes  the  Divine  nspects  of  the  ques- 
tion of  fruit  as  it  is  presented  in  the  Gospels.  It  is  Christ 
who  loves  fruit,  and  who  desires  to  find  it  in  us  ;  and  it  is  He 
who,  in  the  inspiration  and  creation  of  the  fruit,  virtually  gives 
Himself  to  us. 

But,  as  in  agriculture  and  horticulture  the 
farmer  and  the  gardener  are  co-operators  with  God 
in  the  production  of  the  fruits  of  the  earth  and  the 
fruit  of  the  trees,  so,  in  many  ways,  the  Gospels 
lay  upon  us  the  injunctions  of  our  duty. 

(1)  We  are  the  ground  which  brings  forth  fruit, 
according  as  we  receive  the  Word  (Mt  13''-"'',  Mk 
4'5f-,  Lk  S'-f-).  If  our  hearts  be  like  the  wayside, 
trampled  over  and  hardened  by  the  interests  and 
engagements  of  the  world,  or  if  they  be  readily 
afl'ectJed  by  the  opinions  of  men,  or  if  they  be 
choked  by  the  cares  of  this  life  and  tlip  di^oeitful- 
ness  of  riclies,  tliere  can  be  no  fniilfuhirss.  It  is 
our  duty  to  prepare  the  ground  \>\  ilicm-jlil,  ami 
prayer  and  a  regulated  life  for  Ihi;  i(ii|ili(iii  of 
God's  truth.  The  harvest  will  correspond  witli 
the  tillage. 

(2)  We  are  the  branches  which  bear  fruit  accord- 
ing as  we  abide  in  tlie  Vine  (.Jn  15).  Just  as  the 
gardener  prunes  and  purges  a  tree  so  that  it  may 
bring  forth  more  fruit,  so  there  are  afflictions  in 
this  life  which  are  only  God's  way  of  increasing 
our  fruitfulness.  The  branches  which  draw  most 
sustenance  from  the  vine  are  the  most  productive, 
so  the  soul  which  keeps  most  faithfully  the  Lord's 
commandments  abides  the  most  in  tfis  love  and 
is  most  fruitful. 

(3)  We  are  the  grain  of  wheat  which  comes  to 
fruit,  if  it  dies  (Jn  12-^'  -^).  In  the  first  place,  the 
Master  alludes  to  His  o\m.  death.     But  the  second 


phorism  (of  Jn  122-5),  jn  which  the 
'■^y  may  be  said  t-o  be  summed  up,  is 

.wv',  wliosL'  yelf-rnntradiction  is  not 


to  be  reJ,^^l■dL'fl  too  clriHely  ; 
as  yet  undeveloped,  expn 
nature  of  spirit.  The  triif 
to  live,"— is,  that  the  indi\ 


'  '  !"■  maxim— "Die 
111  isolated  life,— 
i.e.  a  lite  for  and  in  himself,  a  lit.  m  niii,  [i  id,  immediate  satis- 
faction of  desire  as  his  desire  is  an  end  in  itself,— in  order  that 
he  may  live  the  spiritual  life,  the  universal  life  which  really 
belongs  to  him  as  a  spiritual  or  self-conscious  being '  (Edward 
Caitd,  Ilcgd,  p.  213). 


■  See  Hex  Hegitm  by  Sir  Wyke  liayl: 


(4)  We  .are  the  husliandinen,  who  are  expected  to 
tend  the  \'iiH  yai.l  1 1.1^  l'H),  and  to  make  it  fruitful, 
and  to  yield  n|i  :i  |.ic.|..ii  lioii  of  the  fruit  at  right- 
ful times  to  II. !•  I.uni,,!  tlir  vineyard.  The  original 
appIi.-.-Ui,,,!    ,.1    ||„.    ,.,,al.l.'    i„,    d.,nl.ll,.ss,    to   the 

srnbes    :uiil    llir    clili'f    prii'^ls    \\\,n     l,  ■  j,  ■,!  ,  ■(  I    .le.SUS, 

l.uLit  isc,|u;,llv  .■.|.|ilirul.l.'  |..,-i„v  ul„,  il,i„k  they 

.•iin,loaslli,-y  |,l,-as,;  witi ii'  lite  an. I  i.unore  all 

obligations  to  the  Giver  and  Lord. 

(5j  We  are  the  trees  which  are  known  by  their 
fruit  (Mt  7'").  Men  do  not  gather  grapes  from 
thorns,  or  figs  from  thistles.  A  tree  which  is 
true  to  its  nature  and  to  its  destiny  brings  forth 
its  appropriate  fruit.  Man,  who  is  by  nature  a 
child  of  God  and  by  destiny  an  heir  of  Heaven, 
should  produce  the  fruit  of  I'lu-  .Spirit  of  Cod. 

Literature.— For  1  and  2  s. .  ll,,iii  j,  /)/;;ii.il  l-m-,,,-.  Bibl. 
art.  'Fruit.'    For  3,  E.ri.'       I  ,     ;      i  ,  i\.  [1898] 

211Sf.  ;  A'a-.'»s''"rn.  vii.  |1-   1  ■        > /'       ..i  Holies, 

168-189;  Hull,  ,S'ermoH,s,  i.  :.  I  II,  ,  v  .im m -,  .  .1 .  ,  i,  ,„  Christ, 
30 fl.,  14011.  ;  llacmillan,  Bit,;L'  ;.ur;,,„./..  ,„  .\,(/i,,,,  1741f. 

H.  IIekbekt  Snell. 

FULFILMENT.— The  primary  meaning  of  the 
English  word  '  fulfil '  is  simply  to  _fjll — by  a 
pleonasm,  to  fill  (until)  full.  We  find  this  use  in 
literature — 

'  Is  not  thy  brain's  rich  hive 
Fulfilled  with  honey  1 '  (Donne). 
Sometimes  it  is  imitated  even  in  modern  English, 
though  only  by  a  deliberate  archaism.  For  with 
us  '  fulfil '  is  specialized  to  mean  not  literal 
material  filling,  but  the  carrying  out  into  act  of 
some  word  —  some  promise,  threat,  hope,  com- 
mand, etc.  When  the  AV  was  made,  '  fulfil,' 
according  to  the  great  Oxford  Dictionary,  meant 
'  fill,'  and  herjan  to  be  it.scd  by  the  translators  in 
its  remoter  sense  on  the  p.itterii  of  the  Vulgate, 
which  wrote  (unclassirallyi  (;,/////  and  adim- 
plere  for  Heb.  xfe.  Thus  l\\r  iiaiisiii.m  fiom  one 
sense  to  the  other,  or  the  met.iplior  i<i  Jilting_  for 
fulfillini),  is  Hebrew.  But  in  tJreek,  too,  it  is 
po.ssible  that  the  same  metaphor  sprang  up  inde- 
pendently of  Hebrew  influence ;  cf.  clas-sical  refer- 
ences (under  wXypodv)  in  Cremer,  also  in  Liddell  and 
Scott  (ttXtj/joOv,  ii.  5).  In  OT  the  usage  is  not  very 
common.  Possibly  the  earliest  instance,  chrono- 
logically, is  Jer  44'-^  What  the  Jews  in  Egypt 
h.i,ve  -trnd,  they  do.  Their  threat  to  practise 
iildlatry  is  not  left  an  cmjriij  word  ;  it  is  tilled  out, 
or  HII.mI  u|),  in  action.  At  Ps  20''  we  liave  the 
word  used  of  answers  to  prayer:  '.lehovtili  fulfil 
all  thy  petitions';  the  empty  vessel,  as  it  were, 
standing  to  receive  the  Divine  su[iplies.  For  'ful- 
filling law'  or  'fulfilling  a  coniTLi.and'  there  is  no 
proper  authority  in  OT,  though  EV  at  times  intro- 
duces the  term  (Ps  148';  literally,  the  forces  of 
nature  '  do '  God's  word).  In  1  K  2='  8'"-  ■"  we  have 
the  most  important  usage  of  all,  the  '  fulfilling'  of 
the  prophetic  word  or  prediction.  The  passages 
referred  to  are  marked  by  modern  scholarship  as 
Deuteronomic.  We  may  therefore  [irobably  con- 
clude that  the  theological  conception  of  '  fulfilling ' 
is  part  of  the  religious  language  of  that  great 
forward  movement  in  OT  history,  the  Deutero- 
nomic reform.  Along  with  these  theological  appli- 
cations N^a  may  mean  '  fill '  anyw  here  in  the  OT. 
And  so  in  NT  (7rX»jpoi>  ehieliy ) :  in  the  jiarable  of  the 
Drag-net(Mt  13«},  the  net  i's  'lilled'  "illi  all  kinds 
offish;  Mt23'-,  'Fill  ye  up  (Ii.'ti  Hi.'  ua'.isure  of 
your  fathers.'  More  generally,  lio\ve\ei,  tlie  word 
bears  its  derivative  sense,  and  has  a  theological 
application.  Though  rare  in  OT,  the  usage  is  quite 
common  in  NT,  very  noticeably,  of  fulfilled  pro- 
phecy, in  the  First  Gospel.  A  beginning  of  differ- 
entiation or  specification  is  made  in  the  NT  in  this 
respect,  that  while  ir'Kyfpodi'  may  mean  'fill,'  the 
simpler  but  kindred  form  wi/i-n-Mmi  [others  assume 
■ir\ri8ui  as  root  form]  never  means  '  fulfil.' 

A  second  metaphor  underlies  n^.     This  is  pro- 


626 


FULFILMENT 


FULFILIMENT 


bably  still  later  tlieological  language.  It  means 
specially  the  fulfilling  of  prediction.  We  hnd  it  in 
Ezr  1>  =  2  Ch  36~.  According  to  Bertholet  (on  Ezr 
I.e.;  he  refers  to  Dn  1-2'  also),  'Fulfilment  ranks 
simply  as  the  end  of  the  prophetic  word,  which, 
once  spoken,  enters  among  the  powers  of  the  real 
world  and  gradually  works  itself  out.'  This  word 
and  metaphor  are  also  common  in  NT.  Sometimes 
we  have  reXeic  and  cognates ;  though  here  again 
there  is  a  tendency  (less  marked,  however,  than  wtli 
TrXijpow  in  contrast  to  vi./nrXdi/ai)  to  prefer  a  more 
specialized  or  technical  term — TeXeiovv,  reXe/uo-is. 
God's  work  is  begun  by  the  prophetic  word,  but 
incomplete  till  the  fact  matches  the  promise. 

A  third  term  and  metaphor  are  ot  some  moment 
in  OT,  but  scarcely  enter  into  NT — D'pg,  pe^aioOf. 
(God's  promise  may  seem  to  be  tottering  to  its  fall, 
—He  will  buttress  it ;  support  it).  See  Jer  29i»,  Is 
44=«,  Ro  15» ;  but  in  the  Gospels  only  Mk  16="  '  con- 
firming .  .  .  with  signs  foIlo\ving. '  (How  fully  this 
is  a  synonym  for  n'?p  we  see  when  we  note  the  usage 
of  H^s  at  1  K  I").  dVp,  lit.  '  return '  or  '  reward,' 
occurs  by  an  extension  of  meaning  at  Is  44-'*-  ^  for 
'  fulfil ' ;  not  imitated  in  NT.  Also,  as  already 
implied,  EV  sometimes  introduces  '  fulfil '  or  '  be 
fulfilled'  where  the  original  has  merelj-  'do'  or 
'  be.'  And  we  cannot  say  that  this  is  illegitimate. 
A  very  important  passage  is  the  last  clause  of  Mt 
gi8  j^y  .  \y^^^  j^y  i  f^jjj  g^jj  yijngs  be  accomplished' 
[to  mark  the  contrast  with  TrXTjpuirai,  v.".  See 
below — i, — on  both  verses.] 

We  have  then  to  look  chiefly  to  nVp,  ir\ripovv, 
wliile  not  forgetting  other  forms.  And  the  ques- 
tion may  be  raised,  whether  the  NT  writers  were 
alive  to  the  implication  of  steady  quantitative 
growth  towards  fulfilment?  Or  had  the  original 
suggestions  of  quantity  and  of  coutinuousness 
passed  away, — was  there  assumed  a  mere  corre- 
spondence betiveen  the  word  and  its  fulfilment?  (If 
one  pours  water  into  a  vessel,  it  fills  by  degrees. 
But  if  one  is  fitting  together  a  ball-and-socket 
joint,  the  socket  is  empty  at  one  moment,  full  at 
the  next.  The  two  correspond,  but  their  <;orre- 
spondence  is  not  reached  by  gradual  growth). 
We  shall  have  to  distinguish  in  this  as  in  other 


respects  between  difl'erent  i 


syn 


lyms). 


i  of  irXjipoSt'  (or  its 


1.  Fiiltilmrnt  of  time.  Here,  if  anywhere,  we 
may  expect  to  find  the  ideas  of  continuity  and 
gradualness.  Now  'fulfil'  is  constantly  used  in 
the  OT  of  the  elapsing  of  a  given  time— alike  in 
Hebrew,  Greek,  and  English  ;  or,  in  NT,  alike  in 
Greek  and  English.  It  is  used  of  the  period  of  a 
woman's  gestation  (e.g.  Gn  25"  ;  7rXj;p4u,  LXX  ;  Lk 
1"  2«— TriMTXi'-ai ;  KV  'fulfilled'  in  all  3  cases). 
There  is  no  more  striking  or  more  frequently 
noted  parable  of 

The  slow  sweet  hours  that  bring  us  all  things  good. 
The  slow  sad  hours  that  bring  us  all  things  ill ; 
or  sometimes,  as  George  Eliot  has  expressed  it 
in  Adam  Bcde,  of  '  swift  hurrying  shame,'  '  the 
bitterest  of  life's  bitterness.'  But  the  word  is  also 
used  of  other  measured  times — of  periods  fixed  by 
OT  law(e.g'.  Lk  2='-=2,  «jn7r\dra<,  KV  'fulfiUed'; 
cf.  Lv  12*,  nS?  (Qal) ;  LXX  TrX-npdu).  From  such 
usages  as  these,  we  pass  on  to  times  of  Divine  fulfil- 
ment. '  The  fulness  of  the  time  came '  (ri  irX-^puna 
ToO  xpl>'">v)<  Oal  4''.  And  our  Lord's  own  mes.sage 
is  summed  up  in  Mk  1":  'The  time  is  fulfilled 
(TreTrX^pwToi  o  Katpds)  and  the  kingdom  of  God  is  at 
liand  ;  repent  ye  and  believe  in  the  gospel.'  (Pro- 
bably secondary  in  comparison  with  Alt  4",  '  Re- 
pent ye,  for  the  kingdom  of  heaven  is  at  hand ' ; 
yet  thoroughly  significant  of  Biblical  and  primitive 
Christian  beliefs,  cf.  Is  61=,  Lk  4'").  The  idea  is, 
that  God  has  fixed  a  time,  '  His  own  good  time,'  as 
our  pious  phra.se  runs.  (Is  that  a  misquotation  of  Is 
60"  ?  RV  '  in  its  time ' ;  AV  [same  sense  ;  archaic 


English]  'in  his  time').  The  number  seventy  (70 
years  of  exile,  Jer  25"  [29'"],  cf.  Dn  9-  -■>)  was 
specially  important  for  this  conception  of  a  fixed 
jieriod  Divinely  appointed.  Yet  we  have  signs  that 
the  '  time '  or  its  '  fulness '  is  not,  for  the  Bible 
writers,  mechanically  predetermined.  The  eschat- 
ological  discourse  (Mt  24~=Mk  13'-'")  tells  us  that 
tlie  time  of  trouble,  at  the  world's  end,  shall  be  cut 
short  out  of  mercy  to  God's  people.  [Lk.  omits,  and 
inserts  a  reference  to  '  times  of  the  Gentiles '  which 
must  be  *  fulfilled,'  21=*.]  And  it  is  i>ossible  that 
another  popular  religious  phrase— the  '  hastening ' 
of  God's  kingdom — may  have  Biblical  warrant. 
It  appears  at  Is  60==  [quoted  above].  But  when  (us 
Marti  advises)  Ave  refer  back  to  Is  5",  we  find  that 
the  word  'ha-sten'  was  introduced  originally  to 
express  the  temper  of  a  sneerer — '  Let  God  hurry 
up,  if  He  is  really  going  to  act  [and  not  simply 
talk].'  So  that  'hasten,'  when  used  at  60=,  may 
have  come  to  mean  no  more  than  '  fulfil.'  Cf.  also 
Hab  2^  and  2  P  3-'''.  Still,  when  the  fulness  of  a 
Divinely  appointed  time  is  spoken  of,  all  these 
qualifications  drop  out  of  sight.  In  some  .sense  a 
period  of  time  is  Divinely  ordained  ;  and  etHux  of 
time  brings  the  day  when  God  acts.  Fulfilment  of 
time  is  not  indeed  identical  with  fulfilment  of  God's 
promise  [or  threat].  The  first  is  a  condition  of 
the  second.  In  regard  to  the  first,  at  least,  the 
quantitative  sense  of  '  fulfil '  is  maintained  in  clear 
consciou.sne.ss.  ('My  time  is  not  yet  fulfilled,'  Jn 
7^  = '  mine  hour  is  not  yet  come,'  2*). 

2.  Fulfilment  of  joy  (■n-\rip6oi).  Here  again  there 
is  an  ambiguity.  XVhen  St.  Paul  says  (Ph  2=) 
'  Fulfil  ye  my  joy,'  what  does  he  mean  ?  Is  it  (1) 
'  Complete  my  happiness ;  unless  I  hear  of  your 
being  thoroughly  at  one,  I  cannot  be  perfectly 
happy '  ?  or  (2)  does  he  mean,  '  I  have  sacrificed 
many  ordinary  sources  of  happiness  ;  give  me  this 
my  chosen  joy'?  Authorities  seem  to  prefer  the 
first;  perhaps,  'complete  the  joy  I  already  have 
in  you.'  That  is,  '  fulfilment '  of  '  joy '  is  taken  as  a 
quantitative  and  continuous  idea.  Elsewhere  the 
phrase  is  peculiarly  Johannine  (Jn  3=^  15"  16=*  17'', 
with  1  Jn  1*,  2  Jni=).  The  Baptist,  e.g.  (S^),  has  his 
joy  in  full.  He  has  oil  the  joy  he  can  expect.  Yet 
there  is  more  than  this  in  the  words.  He  has 
full  joy — 'rejoiceth  greatly.'  In  the  Johannine 
passages  the  tico  thoughts  seem  included  :  the  joy 
(Christ's  joy,  e.g.)  is  given  ;  and  what  is  given  is  a 
full  joy.  So  prominent  is  the  latter  thought— the 
more  quantitative — that  one  is  tempted  to  regard 
AV  '  full '  as  a  better  rendering,  in  regard  to  joy, 
than  the  more  literal  '  fulfilled '  of  RV. 

3.  Fulfilment  of  prophecy  or  of  Scripture  or  of 
Christ's  words  (usually  irXTipSa,  Mt  1=  and  very 
often  ;  Mk  15=8  [doubtful  text] ;  Lk  1=»,  Jn  12^ 
and  elsewhere.  In  Christ's  words,  Mt  26^-'*  [a 
'  doublet ']  =  Mk  14«  [Lk  2^  has  not  the  word]; 
Lk  4='  21=  24",  cf.  9='  '  his  decease ' ;  21=»  '  times  of 
the  Gentiles'  ;  22'8  the  Passover  'fulfilled  in  the 
kingdom  of  God' ;  Jn  13"  15=°  and  elsewhere.  But 
reXeiiu,  Jn  19=".  'There  is  perhaps  a  slight  difference 
in  meaning — not  the  word  of  Scripture  verified,  but 
the  terrible  things  spoken  of  in  S<-ri])t>ire  made 
actual — when  we  have  Tc\4a  at  Lk  18"  22".  Purely 
in  the  sense  of  'fulfilment,'  perhaps,  at  Jn  19=*-  '". 
(nivreXioi  occurs  Mk  13* ;  the  noun  awT^Xeia  [tou 
aluvo!  '  end  of  the  world,'  RVm  '  consummation 
of  the  age']  in  Mt.'s  ]',  24^  and  also  at  1339-*»28=». 
[He  9=«,  ffwTAeia  tup  aiwfuv  '  end  of  the  ages,'  KV  ; 
marg.  'consummation'].  TeXfi6u  [AV  ' finish,' RV 
'  accomplish ']  is  used  in  the  Johannine  discourses 
of  Christ's  work  [Ipyoi^,  4*"  17*]  or  works  [5^,  cf. 
again  19**]).  As  far  as  the  words  rendered  '  fulfil ' 
are  concerned,  they  are  used  in  the  same  sense 
throughout ;  whether  the  fulfilment  is  of  the  past 
(the  OT)  in  the  present  (Christ),  or  of  the  present 
(Christ's  words)  in  the  (eschatological)  future.    And 


FULFILMENT 


FULFILMENT 


several  Greek  words  are  fairly  represented  by  the 
same  English  meaning.  Moreover,  for  a  full  index 
of  the  Sorijiture  teaching  we  should  need  to  in- 
clude passages  like  Lk  •24-'»-=',  where  no  word  'fulhl' 
occurs.  (But  we  have  it  in  Lk  24-'-').  This  holds 
especially  of  the  fullilnient  of  Christ's  own  words. 
It  is  true,  the  word  as  well  as  the  thought  occurs  in 
the  Fourth  Gospel  (IS"-''-),  but  in  the  Synoptics 
the  phrasing  is  different.  The  nearest  approach  is 
Mk  133"  ||_  .  i,iit,ii  all  [these]  things  be  accomplished 
{yiyriTai) — a  diHicult  passage,  discussed  below  (under 
'  Fulttlinent  of  law ').  We  must  lay  down,  in 
general,  that  the  NT  thinks  of  fulfilment  as  oc- 
curring in  detailed  mechanical  correspondence  with 
the  letter  of  prediction.  God  has  said  so-and-so, 
therefore  it  must  happen  exactly  as  was  said.  In 
Jn  19-^  it  is  difficult  to  take  any  other  view  of  the 
Evangelist's  meaning  than  that  Jesus  exclaimed 
'  I  thirst,'  because  the  Passion  psalms  had  spoken 
of  the  cruel  thirst  of  the  Sufferer.  We  must  not, 
of  course,  exaggerate  the  simplicity  of  the  Bible 
writers.  A  few  verses  earlier,  where  Jn  18^  inter- 
prets Jesus'  protection  of  His  disciples,  at  the 
moment  of  His  o-mi  arrest,  as  the  fulfilment  of 
the  word  which  He  spake,  '  Of  those  whom  thou 
hast  given  me  I  lost  not  one,'  the  Evangelist  knows 
perfectly,  and  trusts  his  readers  to  remember,  that 
the  true  sense  of  (^lirist's  words  belongs  to  a  differ- 
ent region.  In  that  one  instance,  at  least,  he  is 
consciously  accommodating,  as  we  might  do  in 
quoting  a  line  of  Shakspeare.  And  there  is  more. 
The  Evangelist  discerns  in  Christ's  care  for  the 
disciples  a  type  of  the  supreme  spiritual  transac- 
tion. Even  outwardly,  Clirist  sa\'es  others,  while  not 
saving  but  sacrificing  Himself.  Still,  in  general, 
the  letter  of  the  NT  takes  the  letter  of  the  OT  as 
a  magic  book,  foreshowing  what  must  happen  to 
Christ.  Deeper  views  are  no  doubt  latent  in  tln' 
NT,  but  they  are  nowhere  formulated  by  it.  They 
do  not  rise  to  the  .surface  of  consciousness  in  Evan- 
gelist or  Apostle. 

i.  Fiiljih/tcitt  of  laiv[and prophets?].  [Fulfilment 
genercdly .']  The  interpretation  here  raises  very 
difficult  questions,  hardly  to  be  settled  without 
some  critical  surgery.  First  let  us  take  what  is 
simple  ;  to  '  fulfil '  the  Law  is  to  obey  it — r€Kiiv — at 
Ro  2",  Ja  28;  or  w\r,pouy,  Gal  5»,  Ko  13''- '».  (On 
these  last,  see  below).  Unambiguous,  too,  is  '  to 
fulfil  all  righteousness '  {irXripCicrai.,  Mt  3'^) ;  and  the 
saying  may  well  be  historical,  though  unsupported 
in  the  parallels.  It  fits  tlie  circumstances  (see 
present  writer's  paper  on  '  Dawn  of  Messianic  Con- 
sciousness' in  Expos.  Times,  1905,  p.  215),  if  per- 
haps tinged  in  expression  with  the  Evangelist's 
phraseology.  But  what  of  Mt  5"  ('Think  not  that 
I  came  to  destroy  the  law  or  the  pro]iliets  ;  I  caiiie 
not  to  destroy  but  to  fulfil' — jrXi)p(iffai)V  ('OMmli  'i-'i^ 
been  written  on  this  subject  since  the  jiresent  writer 
discussed  the  passage  in  '  '/n-i.^f  uiu!  Ih<-  .Tnrc^h  Imr, 
1886.  Even  more  deci.h'.lly  lli.in  (h. n.  lie  nmM 
insist  that  if  v.'* — andespr.i  i/illy  it  v.''  i-  :i  uemiiiie 
part  of  Christ's  discourse,  we  :in-  .shut  up  to  iiixler- 
stand  '  fulfil '  in  the  sense  of  '  obey '  (so  Cremer's 
Lexicon,  bracketing  5"  with  3'=).  But  (b)  the  case 
for  omitting  v.'**— with  its  Pharisaic  aspect,  its  at 
least  seemingly  exaggerated  canonization  of  the 
whole  letter  of  the  Pentateuch  —  is  being  very 
strongly  pressed  to-day  {e.g.  Votaw,  art.  '  Sermon  on 
the  Mount'  in  Hastings'  DB,  Ext.  Vol. ).  If  v.'"  [some 
would  say  vv.'*-  "]  be  a  gloss  [or  belong  properly  to 
a  different  context  in  a  .somewhat  different  form], 
we  may  render  '  not  to  destroy  but  to  pcrfrrt  the 
law,'— raising  it  to  its  ideal  height  of  purity,  and 
carrying  it  to  its  ideal  depth  of  inwardness.  This 
view  probably  holds  the  field  at  present.  It  goes 
well  with  vv.'^',  etc.,  where  our  Lord,  in  a  series 
of  brilliant  paradoxes,  sweeps  a^\ay  the  mere 
letter  of  the  OT  [?  or  the  legal  glosses  added  to  it 


by  'scribes  and  Pliarisees'  (v."")].  But  there  are 
difficulties.  It  is  '  hard '  to  think  that  our  Lord 
ever  exercised  the  supposed  conscious  detailed  in- 
tellectual criticism  of  the  OT  as  such  (so  the  late 
A.  B.  Davidson,  in  ruin  er.sil ion   «i(li  the  present 

writer's  inform. An.l    w,,ul,I    11,.  have  called 

His  paradoxi'-  :i  ■  ]iei  f.rted  '  l:i,«  v  They  are  at 
least  as  like  a  '  .le-l  i  ncii,,ii '  ,,f  ih,.  rr,,iii„'  of  law  ! 
Moreover,  we  ha\e  the  reference  to  the  '  prophets.' 
((■)  When  '  fulfil '  is  predicated  of  '  prophecy,'  tlie 
sense  is  well  known;  the  'prophets'  become  the 
))redoniinant  partner  in  such  a  juxtaposition  as  '  to 
liiHil  /inf  mill  /irif/i/irfx'  ;  and  we  have  to  think  of 
the  (»'l"s  iiK.ial  hi\\,L;iiiii-  us  a  sort  of  type,  ful- 
lilleil,  whciL  the  woiil  of  tile  propliets  IS  fulfilled,  in 
(_'lnist's  piiM)!!.  [I'linsf  mii/  the  Jeivish  Law  tried 
in  a  paitiinl.ir  an.iv  to  ( .m  y  through  this  meaning 
of  '  fnllil  J.  •  La«  aii.l  iiropliets'  repeatedly  occur 
together  in  (  hi  i^ts  wor.l-,  esp.  in  Mt.  (also  at  7" 
ooju  111=^ Lie  IG",  ef.  Lk  24^^).  We  can  hardly 
doubt  that  our  Lord  Himself  used  the  expression  ; 
and  it  is  probable,  too,  that  He  used  it  as  a  general 
designation  for  the  OT.  Still,  it  is  conceivable  that 
the  Ei-ancjclist  has  brought  in  the  phrase  here.  A 
further  measure  of  critical  surgery  would  then  dis- 
miss (f),  and  leave  the  field  so  far  to  (re)  and  (b). 
But  (d)  we  might  raise  a  new  possibility,  either  by 
exegesis,  or  if  necessary  by  a  minor  form  of  critical 
excision.  We  might  take  Mt  5'"'  either  as  spoken 
here  in  pure  abstraction — '  I  am  not  a  tlestroyer 
but  a  fulfiller' — or  as  originally  a  separate  loijion 
worked  into  this  context  by  the  E\  ,ui,L;elist. 

In  view  of  these  rival  interiirri.il  ion,  one  might 
turn  for  help  to  tlie  Epistles,  lor,  r-|ic,  lally  on 
ethical  points,  the  teaching  of  CI ivi^t  vi>iMy  mu'ulds 
St.  I 'aid's  inculcation  again  and  again.  And  in 
tlii.s  w.iy  ve  might  learn  how  the  earliest  Church 
nn.ler-l'ooa  its  Lord's  words.  Gal  5'*  and  Eo  IS^-i" 
[see  above],  M-hile  their  use  of  wX-qpic^  suggests  Mt 
5",  refer  in  substance  rather  to  Mt  22''^"'"'  [Mark's  ||, 
(12^')  omits  the  very  element  which  lives  in  the 
Epistles — love  to  God  and  man  not  only  the  chief 
duty  but  the  tchole  of  dnfij.  In  this  c.nse  the 
Epistles  decidedly  support  Mt.'.s  ti;iilil  ion.  In 
Luke  (10")  we  have  an  unw  ai  lanle.l  si|..,^,.stion 
that  <Ac  sc«6cs  had  alreailv  ""\  en  |o.jiili,r  DtG'' 
with  Lv  1918.  Thus  Luke's  ti.Hlition  hcie  .seems 
still  less  exact.  On  Christ's  oi  iuin.ility  in  this 
matter,  comp.  Montefiore  in ///A/"  /■/  .lunnnil,  Apr. 
1905].  Commentators  seem  to  tal^e  C.il  ,'."— 'all 
the  law  is  fulfilled  {■n-X-qpoSTai}  in  one  word.  Thou 
slialt  love  thy  neighbour  as  thyself — as  parallel 
not  to  Ro  13''  ('all  the  law  is  summed  up — dvaKe- 
<jia\aioOTai—m  Thou  slialt  love  thy  neighbour,'  etc.), 
hut  rather  tow.*' '",  'Love  xeirXijpwiv-e — is  the  ir\r)p!a/ia 
of  the  law.'  St.  Paul  then  takes  fulfil  =  obey,  as 
in  (n),  above.  But  does  St.  Paul's  language  really 
support  ('O?  Is  there  not  something  more  than 
ii/i.ifiii,/  linr  in  the  Pauline  thought  of  'fulfilment' 
(KoS')'.'  Tlie  requirement — SiKala/ia — of  theLawis 
fnllillcil  in  those  who  walk  not  after  the  flesh  but 
after  the  sjiirit.  The  utmost  we  can  say  is  that 
Tr\-i]p6a,  in  the  sense  of  '  fulfil,'  had  been  given  such 
currency  in  the  Greek  version  of  our  Lord's  words 
that  St,  Paul  instinctively  w-eaves  it  in  when  he  is 
quoting  another  passage.  Thus,  after  all,  the  evi- 
dence of  the  Epistles  as  to  the  original  meaning  of 
Mt  5"  is  neutral,  or  at  any  rate  not  decisive. 

Summary. — In  Mt  5'",  then,  Christ  claims  either 

[a)  to  render  a  perfect  obedience  to  law,  or  (b)  to 
perfect  the  moral  lawgiving  of  the  OT,  or  (r)  to 
fulfil  absolutely  the  ideals  of  the  OT  generally,  or 
(f^)  to  be  in  general  a  fulfiller  r.ather  tli.nn  a  de- 
stroyer,   (re)  is  not  without  evidence  in  its  support. 

(b)  is  perhaps  most  Lcnrr.illy  |.o]iiil,ii-,  (. )  «c  .are  in- 
clined to  ree:aril  a.s  .Inc  to  t  In- iiiisi  :il,rn  inlriision 
in  Mt  5'"  of  ['la«l  "„,/  y„v,;,/„7,v,'-.«oi.U  ,i..iihtless 
used  by  Christ  tol  tlie  UT  as  a  wliule  ';)  in  other 


628 


FULFILISIENT 


FULFILMENT 


s.  (rf)  was  on  the  whole  supported  in  tlie 
above  discussion— if  necessary,  at  tlie  cost  of  regard- 
ing V.'"'  as  by  rights  an  independent  lugion.  (We 
have  not  discussed  the  extravagant  suggestion  that 
there  was  no  Sermon  on  the  Mount  in  Christ's 
ministry  at  all). 

Ht  518.  We  li,'i\e  quoted  with  sympathy  a  suggestion  that 
this  verse  ou^lit  t"  )••■  «tni.k  out  of  the  context  of  Mt  6.  But 
there  is  no  iinMinl  i  ■(  ]'  nww^  ih.it  it  represents  one  of  the 
sayings  of  Jt.-'i-  '  !  :  '  s  ,:,  I6I"  ;  and,  besides  that, 
all  three  Syno] .1 1  .  1,  1  it  jilirase  in  tlie  eschatological 
chapter.    Thrj.   1  il sttoa%\ord — 'This  genera- 

tion shall  ri'^!   I      -    ,  I    i  f)i,'^.|  thing's  be  accomplished 

[yttrr,.'..     II.  ,   •  !    ■    !'      -i  ,!l   |,i--   ;i«.iv,  butmy  words 

shall    I     '     ■  '■!'    -I  •  Ml.    l:"'.M=Lk  2132-33). 

Thi>;(i-  .  '  .  .|    '..11    j..;..i..l    ...II    must   surely  be    an 

altcrnii.'.  \' 1-1.  11  .1  -11. .  ,./../(  Mi  ..'-.  .Ve«.'ording  to  Mt  5, 
Christ  .-i-.pu-i-  ..I  Lilt,-  pcii-^luiu  .-I  lUe  Law;  according  to 
Mt  'Jl,  uf  the  assured  truth  of  His  own  words.  We  nmst 
note  the  presence  of  3  corresponding  clauses  in  each  of  the 
two  passages  :  heaven  and  earth  passing  away  —  all  things 
being  accomplished — a  Divine  word  not  'passing  .away."  In 
.Mt  5i»  the  first  two  elements  jar  against  each  other.  The 
same  sentence  contains  two  limits — two  clauses  each  beginning 
Vu,"  i».  In  that  respect  2434.35  shows  to  better  advantage, 
and  can  advance  the  stronger  claim  to  rank  as  the  original. 
On  the  other  hand,  the  verses  in  ch.  24  are  themselves 
exceedingly  difficult.  It  is  no  mere  blind  conservatism  which 
hesitates  to  believe  that  our  Lord  pledged  His  supernatural 
knowledge  for  the  conclusion  of  the  world's  story  within 
a  generation.  The  words,  as  we  have  them,  mean  that  and 
nothing  else  ;  and  it  is  surely  incredible  that  Jesus  should  have 
so  erred.  We  do  not  deny  that  He  may  have  expected  the  end 
shortly;  there  is  at  leasta  strong  NT  tradition,  direct  and  in- 
direct, that  He  did.  We  do  say  that  He  could  not  stake  every- 
thing, ^vith  the  very  greatest  emphasis,  upon — a  date!  which 
besides  was  a  inistaketi  date.  B.  W.  Bacon's  solution  is  attrac- 
tive—that the  original  lofjion  referred  to  the  word  of  God,  but 
not  specifically  either  to  the  OT  law  or  to  the  Master's  own 
words,  though  different  lines  of  tradition  insisted  on  one  or  the 
other  identification. 

5.  '  Fulfilm'-.nt '  in  general.  —  Some  individiinl 
passages,  {a)  Lk  1'  speaks  of  the  things  '  fulfilled ' 
among  us  (ireTrXripoipopTiiiivuv  ;  perf.  particip.  from  a 
derivative  of  irXripda,  or  at  least  of  irX-fiprji).  The  con- 
nexion with  v.^— 'the  certainty  of  those  tilings 
wherein,'  etc. — makes  AVs  rendering  tempting; 
•things  .  .  .  most  surely  believed.'  But  authority 
favours  the  rendering  'fulfilled.'  Not,  however, 
in  the  sense  of  '  Divinely  fulfilled.'  In  these,  the 
most  classical  verses  from  St.  Luke's  pen,  we  must 
look  rather  to  classical  models ;  and  we  should 
probably  take  '  fulfilled '  as  meaning  '  fully  accom- 
plished. So  Holtzmann  ;  or  Adeney — '  Luke  will 
record  complete  transactions,  a  finished  story.' 
Probably,  therefore,  there  is  nothing  to  be  made  of 
this  passage,  (b)  In  Lk  22"  we  read  (RV),  'This 
which  is  written  must  be  fulfilled  {TeXeaeijvai)  in  me. 
And  he  was  reckoned  with  transgressors  ;  for  that 
which  concerneth  me  hath  fulfilment '  (?-^\os  ^x")- 
Here  there  is  room  for  ditl'erance  of  opinion.  Holtz- 
mann is  respectful  to  tli.>  |.a^-.i-.-— a  'valuable 
.separate  tradition  of  I.uIm',,  Imi  ■luubts  whether 
the  individual  ver.se  is  ;i.  u.uuinr  .-,i\  Iul;  of  the  Lord's. 
And  he  takes  it  as  mcaninj  uicjicly  that  death,  or 
the  end,  is  hurrying  near ;  on  tlie  analogy  of  Mk 
336 — Satan  if  divided  against  himself  '  hatn  an  end.' 
On  the  other  hand,  Adeney,  like  the  Revisers  (ap- 
parently), thinks  that  Divine  fuHilment  is  pointed 
to  here.  It  is  an  interesting  possiliility.  \Xe  can 
hardly  .'iay  more,  (c)  If  the  su^'-cstion  ofl'ered 
above— (rf)— regarding  Mt  .">'■''  should  he  adopted— 
if  that  were  originally  a  separate  loginn,  or  if,  at 
any  rate,  it  was  spoken  quite  in  (/cxcj-c//— then  tlie 
central  Gospel  passage  on  '  fulfilment '  gives  us  a 
general  point  of  view,  in  the  blaster's  own  words. 

Any  of  these  individuiil  jL-isva-.-^,  if  .such  an  in- 
terpretation as  we  liiiM'  ,li-.,i-,,l  i-;  warrantable, 
centres  round  the  iil.  i  ni  tlir  fullihnent  of  ]iro- 
phecy ;  though  -Mt  .'i'"''  wimld  ine,au  something 
bro.ader  or  sonietliing  profounder  than  what  tlie 
letter  of  the  NT  generally  attains  to.  It  will  be 
interesting  if  we  can  regard  such  broader  and  pro- 
founder  teaching  as  coming  directly  from  our 
Master. 


Different  senses  of  'fulfilment '  reviewed  again. 
These  do  not  to  any  great  extent  correspond  to 
diflerent  Greek  words.  To  ftdfil  joy  is  irXripba 
(usually  in  the  passive),  to  complete  joy,  but  (some- 
times at  least,  we  thought)  to  give  joy  in  its  ful- 
ness. To  fuljil  time  (again  usually  a  passive)  is 
also  trXripdu,  but  might  be  the  kindred  iri/iTrXdrai, 
which  is  used  even  in  NT  in  the  less  theological  ap- 
plications. The  appointed  time — whatever  author- 
ity enacted  it — is  now  full.  To  fulfil  Scripture — or 
prophets'  words,  etc. — is  inditt'erently  wXripbu  (or 
cognates,  possibly  once  ininrXavtn,  Lk  21°^  v.l. ;  and 
possibly,  but  not  probably,  once  vXTipo(t>op(ui,  Lk  1' ; 
see  above,  5),  or  reXioi  (or  cognate  reXeiow ;  once 
T-Ao5  tx^iv) ;  nor  should  we  forget  yLvofmi  in  con- 
struction. To  fulfil  laio  in  the  Epistles  is  reXiu  or 
irXripioi.  In  the  Gospels  we  have  7r\i;p6u  in  kindred 
applications— once,  '  to  fulfil  righteousness ' ;  and 
once,  in  the  great  passage,  as  we  were  inclined  to 
think,  in  a  purely  general  sense,  '  to  fulfil.'  But 
see  above,  i.  Cf.  further  in  Epistles  vXripotpopioi, 
'to  fulfil  one's  ministry,'  2  Ti  4^* ;  'fully  to  pro- 
claim the  message,'  t4  K-fipvyna,  2  Ti  4''. 

Can  we  unify  these  leading  senses?  Probably 
not ;  probably  not  any  two.  They  are,  of  course, 
connected,  especially  the  first  three.  It  is  God  who 
gives  joy  in  fulness,  God  who  ordains  times,  God 
who  keeps  His  promise.  At  His  own  time  His  keep- 
ing of  promise  fills  His  people  with  joy.  Nay  more  ; 
the  fourth  sense  is  also  near  of  kin.  Christ,  the 
fulfiller  of  all  promises,  is  also,  on  any  view  of 
particular  passages,  the  .supreme  pattern  of  obedi- 
ence, and  the  author  of  new  obedience  in  others. 
But  the  word  '  fulfil '  probably  does  not  occur  o»  the 
same  gi-ound  in  any  two  of  the  senses  discriminated 
above.  There  is,  in  some  cases,  an  idea  of  fulnc-is 
as  against  half  fulness  (of  time,  or  of  joy ;  two 
different  fulnesses,  therefore).  In  others  (prophecy, 
or  law)  there  is  a  mere  idea  of  correspondence- 
fulness  against  emptiness,  so  to  speak — the  act 
answering  to  the  word  (but  answering  it  in  two 
diflerent  ways). 

Fiilfiliiirnf :  modern  theological studg.  Thecentral 
.sulijirt  i>  fiilliluient  of  prophecy.  (It  has  also  the 
iiiu>t  p,i>s;i-,..i.  Modern  study  of  '  Prophecy  and 
iMiltihiRMit"— title  of  a  book  by  von  Hofmann — 
brings  out  a  truth  which  (unless  possibly  adum- 
brated in  our  Lord's  words,  Mt  5'"')  is  nowhere 
formulated  in  Scripture.  Fulfilment  is  not  only 
like  what  ])rediction  expected,  but  is  also  in  some 
Mays  different,  because  tlie  prophets'  partial  wisdom 
was  not  adequate  to  tlie  full  s])lendour  of  the  ful- 
filment. Christ,  in  so  far  as  He  diflers  from  the 
Messianic  portrait  of  the  OT,  is  not  lesser  but 
gi-eater  spiritually ;  He  ncee-tsarily  differs.  It  is 
true,  some  elements  of  the  fulfilment  are  trans- 
ferred to  Christian  eschatology.  As  yet  they  arc 
unfinished  things.  But  if  the  First  Advent  dif- 
fered (for  the  better)  from  the  letter  of  expectation, 
we  may  infer  that  there  are  symbolical  or  meta- 
phorical elements  in  the  jirophetic  pictures  of  the 
Second  Advent  and  eschatology.  All  this,  while 
not  formulated  in  the  NT,  is  learned  by  believing 
study  of  the  phenomena  of  .Scripture,  and  is  our  age's 
proper  contribution  to  the  conception  of  fulfilment. 
The  main  lines  of  expectation  fulfilled  in  Christ  arc 
perhaps  three  :  (1)  The  hope  of  the  Messianic  King 
(Is  9  is  the  great  passage)— most  important,  not  be- 
cause of  its  intrinsic  sjiiritual  dejith  (in  that  respect 
it  did  not  stand  very  hiL'^li),  but  from  what  we  may 
call  its  dogmatic  .•^liiirimrs-,  mul  its  emphasis  in  the 
NT  age.  It  lent  tlir  (  liii>ti.in  Church  its  fir-st 
creed— viz.  that  '.l.-ii-  i-  <  'lni-t.'  It  was  fulfilled 
only  through  the  traiisferoiice  of  Christ's  royalty 
from  temporal  to  exalted,  or  from  present  to  future 
conditions.  (2)  There  is  the  hope  of  God's  own 
coming  to  His  people  in  per.son.  Is  40""  —  and 
througliout  Is  40-o5.      This  pointed   strongly   to 


FULNESS 


FULNESS 


029 


Christ's  Godhead.  (3)  There  is  the  type  or  ideal  of 
the  Sutt'eriii};'  Servant,  included  in  Is  40-55  (also  in 
I's  22  and  others),  chietly  at  Is  52'"-53'-.  This  teach- 
ing furnished  Christian  theology  with  its  deepest 
elements.  We  can  also  now  explain  what  amount 
of  truth  is  conveyed  by  the  idea  of  '  double  fulfil- 
ments.' When  the  historical  reference  of  a  pro- 
jihecy  is  to  some  lesser  or  earlier  personage  than 
Christ  Jesus,  yet  if  that  person  is  important  in 
the  history  of  Cod's  iiur|iose,  the  .triiiic  principle 
may  be  fulfilled  imrtially  in  liini  wliicli  is  (ultim- 
ately) more  perfectly  fiillill.-d  in  Clnist.  Thus 
we  may  have  a  multiple,  a  repeated  fulhlraent  of 
great  principles ;  yet  all  pointing  on  to  Christ  as 
the  grand  or  absolute  Fuliiller.  We  do  not  affirm 
a  great  ciyptogram,  with  designed  artful  ambiguity. 
The  prophetic  human  speaker  did  not  mean  two 

/-_j  i„  .L  i.-„, ,  _i      i  ^ .i       j^g  meant  one  event. 

capable  of  meaning  many. 
And  something  in  his  spiritual  messages  corre- 
sponds to  Christ  more  than  to  Christ's  forerunner. 
Again,  individual  or  detailed  fulfilments  have  their 
own  subordinate  place.  Some  indeed  may  be 
rather  a  play  of  pious  fancy  than  a  serious  argu- 
ment. The  OT  is  full  of  plays  upon  words ;  and 
the  NT  citations  of  '  I  called  my  son  out  of  Egypt,' 
and  of  '  He  shall  be  called  a  Nazarene '  (Mt  2"'-  ^), 
are  probably  of  this  sort— things  that  carried  more 
weight  in  Juda?a  long  ago  than  they  can  possibly 
carry  now.  At  times  the  resemblance  to  the  OT 
is— innocently  and  unconsciously— filled  out.  The 
exact  reproduction  of  Ps  22*,  which  we  find  at  Mt 
27''",  is  unknown  to  the  earlier  narrative  of  Mark. 
Where  the  matter  is  of  some  weight  (c.ff.  probably 
the  birth  at  Bethlehem),  its  chief  importance  is 
that  it  emphasizes  or  advertises  the  deeper  analogies 
and  correspondences  in  virtue  of  which  Christ  ful- 
fils— and,  may  we  say,  transcends— the  spirit  or 
the  religion  of  the  OT  ;  alike  in  Himself  and  in 
His  gospel. 

Literature.  — See   the  Lexicons;    also  the    following   two 
articles,  and  the  Commentaries.    On  Mt  6",  etc.,  see  further 
the  present  writer's  Christ  and  the  Jewish  Law,  1886  ;  works  on 
the  Sermon  on  the  Mount(B.  W.  Bacon  ;  Votaw,  in  Hastings'  1)1:. 
Ext.  Vol.,  and  literature  there  <|uoto<l).     On  Ihe  tulfiinu  ril 
prophecy,  modem  works  hv  von  IIofnia)ni,  Kichiu  (SIuirlMn! 
tr.),  A.  B.  Davidson,  Woods  (7V(i>  ;/.)/«•  i.f  Ism,!),  ilc.     (in  i : 
eschatological  discourse,  Sohwartzkopfl's  Pnip/irrirs  of  Jr:,,, 
CAra!  (Eng.  tr.).  K.    MACKINTOSH. 

FULNESS  (rrX^pw/na).- The  Or.  word  is  used  in 
the  Gospels  in  its  natural,  physical  sense  in  Mt  9"^, 
Mk  2='  6«  8=".  It  has  a  definite  lliclouical  mean- 
ing in  Jn  l'"  [the  only  place  in  tlir  (;o,|„ls  ^^h^■re 
it  i.s  tr.  'fulness'].  In  the  ElM^l^•s  il  is  hsimI  : 
of  time,  to  denote  the  jieriod  that  lills  up  .i  ciTtain 
epoch  (Eph  1'",  (iai  4'';  see  Fui.NKS.S  <>F  TIME); 
of  persons,  the  full  number  required  to  make  up  a 
dehnite  li;;un>  ( Uo  1  !'-•  -=) ;  of  measure,  to  indicate 
the  full  capacity,  the  entire  content  (1  Co  lO-'^-^", 
Ro  15="),  also  this  may  be  said  to  be  its  meaning  in 
Ho  13'"  where  love  is  spoken  of  as  the  irX-qpaixa 
vbiiov.  The  word  has  also  a  definite  theological 
meaning  in  Col  l'"  2",  Eph  p"  3'"  4'".  The  central 
conception  of  the  Avord,  wherever  used,  si^i'iiis  to 
be  completeness,  the  totality  of  the  tliiii'js  s|...kcii 
of,  that  which  binds  thein  into  a  sviiini.liic.il 
whole.  Even  when  it  is  the  latest  a.l.lil  ion  (I, at  is 
indicated  as  the  TrXyjpcjua,  the  word   rrf.Ts  liacl;  to 

the    beginning,    and    signilics     fl„.     .■ pl.^tmi.ss 

effected  by  the  addition?  Thus  in  (In-  |i;iss,i'jos  in 
St.   Matthew  and   St.    Mark   «liirli    refer    to    the 

sewing  of  the  new  |i:iteli  on  tl lil   •jiirment,  it  is 

not  the  patch  tli.il  is  tlie  7r\;i,i.,v/a.  il  is  the  com- 
pleteness that  rr^-iilts  ti-oni  tlie  p.ileli  ;  .and,  as 
Lightfoot  corrf.lly  points  oul,  the  idea  meant  to 
be  conveyed  is  ilie  paradox  that  it  is  this  very 
completeness  w  1 1  i  e  1 1  n  i  a  k  es  tl  i ,  •  garment  incomplete. 
A  false  show  of  wholeness  is  worse  than  an  open 


rent,— an  idea  entirely  in   accordance    with   the 
method  <.f  the  teaching  of  Jesus. 

The  tlieojo-iial  meaning  of  irX^poi/xa  in  St.  John's 
Gosjiel  niusi  lie  taken  in  connexion  with  its  use  in 
St.  I'auls  l'',pistles.  Granted  the  authenticity  of 
the  Epistles  and  the  Gospel,  St.  John  must  have 
written  more  than  a  quarter  of  a  century  later, 
and  must  have  addressed  practically  the  same 
circle  as  that  which  St.  Paul  had  in  view  in  writing 
to  the  Colossians  and  the  Eiihesians.  It  is  clear 
th.at  St.  Paul  is  de.iling  « itli  the  word  in  a  techni- 
cal .sen.se  as  a  vi  ird  whieli  is  familiar  to  his  oppo- 
nents, but  is  useil  by  him  in  a  sense  different  from 
theirs ;  and  St.  John's  use  of  the  term  is  exactly 
similar.  The  TrX^poi/xa  represented  a  leading  thought 
in  the  Gno.stic  heresy,  of  which  we  find  the  first 
germs  referred  to  in  the  vigorous  polemic  of  St. 
I'aul.  Gnosticism  was  further  developed  by  Cerin- 
thu.s,  a  contemporary  of  St.  John,  and  reached  its 
culmination  in  the  fully  elabor.ated  system  of 
Valentinus.  The  problem  with  -which  these  Gnostic 
heresiarchs  were  continually  wrestling  w.as  one 
that  is  as  old  as  human  thought  how  to  pass  from 
the  infinite  to  the  finite,  an<l  reconcile  .absolute 
good  with  the  existence  of  evil.  The  details  of 
the  earlier  systems  with  which  the  Apostles  had  to 
deal  are  unknown  to  us,  but  in  the  speculations  of 
Valentinus,  as  preserved  in  the  writings  of  the 
early  Fathers,  especi.-iUy  tin'  J'/il/ii.^i,/,/„'>i(Mnia  of 
Hippolytus,  we  have  .■I'syslmi  in  wlii.li  philoso- 
phical concejitions  are  c  lotlieil  in  I  h  iental  imagery, 
and  an  attempt  is  made  to  gi\c  .a  consistent  ex- 
planation of  the  mysteries  of  Creation,  Sin,  and 
Redemption. 


pair,  as  they  receded  from  the  primal 
fainter  traces  of  the  pure  Divine  sjiirit. 
personifications  of  the  Divine  attributes,  and  in  their  totality 
the  realm  of  pure  spirit— the  -rx,.p^uci  of  the  Godhead. 


world  of  realitj'.     It  is  the  philosopl 
noumenal  and  the  phenomenal,  the  rca 

and  the  ohjects  of  sense  iicrccption.  mW 


the  latest  of  the  ^ons,  and  the  furthest  removed  from  the 
Absolute,  had  been  consumed  with  a  desire  to  reach  upwards  to 
the  Primal  Glory,  and  to  emulate  the  Uncreated  by  giving  birth 
to  another  ^on.  The  result  was  an  abortion,— a  being  spiritual 
in  essence  but  out  of  harmony  with  the  «-Avif»;a«,— which  was 
ciist  forth  from  the  spiritual  realm  and  found  a  filace  of  exile  in 
the  xiva/xot.     Here  Sophia  Achamoth  imijarted  of  1 


1  thus  introdu 


principle 


spiritual 


which  was  capable  of  r"'I"nii>tinTi,     ']'■>  t\i" 

this  spiritual  cvsru,  ,■  i  l,i  ;-i  v... t ,  .  ,.  h 

buting  sometliiii  .    ' 

errand.      The   .1         i  ;  i     i  i 

through  Him  cilrn,  a  li,,.  , |,i ,  u 

received    quickening    through    the    intusio 
principle  into  the  mmi^. 

What  degree  of  elaboration  this  fantastic  theory 
h.ail  reached  in  the  age  of  St.  Paul,  and  still  later 

in  tliat  of  St.  .loliii,  tlieic  is  not  now  material  to 
ileeiile  :  lull  llii'ie  are  .lisiinet  traces  of  it  in  the 
l'',pis|le  to  I  lie  ( 'ol,,^-ian^  in  the  reference  to  princi- 
palilies,  (loininioiis,  and  jiowers  (Col  1'"):  and  we 
iviiow  that  <  'erinl  Inis.  ,a  conleiii|.orary  of  SI.  ,John, 


il  I  lie  use  of  the  term,  then,  liy  the 
an  assertion  of  the  true  doctrine 
a~  against  a  false  doctrine  which 

H  V.     In  the  Logos,  who  became  in- 


carnate in  Jesus 
Godhead  is  conia 
the  .lEons,  cre.ati- 
image  of  the   in 


of  tlie 
last  of 
is  the 
of   all 


030 


FULNESS  or  THE  TIME 


FULNESS  OF  THE  TLME 


created  beinj;-s  (Col  P=).  The  lonj;  chain  of  medi- 
atois  between  God  and  man  is  relegated  to  the 
realm  of  myth,  and  the  one  Mediator,  fiovoyivris, 
full  of  grace  and  truth  (Jn  1"),  through  whom 
alone  God  ettects  His  purposes  in  Creation  and 
Kedemption,  is  held  up  for  the  adoration  of  all 
men.  And  this  fulness  of  the  Divine,  which  is  in 
Hira  through  the  closeness  of  His  contact  with 
God,  is  imparted  to  His  .lisciiilcs  (Jn  l'")  and  to  the 
Church  which  is  His  ]!o^I\ ,  .ni.t  whiih  inits  ideality 
is  the  fulness  of  Him  ^^\u^  lill.th  all  in  all  (Eph  1==). 
The  Church  is  here  rt'u.aViiil  ,is  the  complement  of 
Jesus.  The  Head  and  the  Body  make  one  whole 
— the  jj/ero»ia  of  the  Godhead,  the  full  realization 
of  the  Divine  purpose  which  centres  in  the  redemp- 
tion of  man.  For  through  this  Church,  which  on 
earth  possesses  the  potentiality  of  the  plcroma,  by 
means  of  its  varied  ministries,  the  fulness  which  is 
in  Christ  the  Head  passes  to  the  individual,  whose 
destiny  it  is  to  attain  to  the  perfect  man,  to  the 
l)ossession,  in  his  degree,  of  the  entire  jjleroimi  of 
the  Godhead. 

It  is  scarcely  sufficiently  recognized  that  the  NT 
doctrine  of  the  Church  is  a  philosophy  of  the 
.Social  Organism  which  embraces  all  essential 
human  activities  (Eph  4''- '").  Our  difficulty  in 
apprehending  it  lies  mainly  in  this,  that  the 
Apostles,  seeing  the  temporal  in  the  light  of 
eternity,  are  constantly  confusing  the  boundary 
lines  wliich  separate  the  actual  from  the  ideal,  the 
process  from  the  consummation. 

Literature. — Lightfoot  on  Colossians ;  Pressens6,  Heresv  and 
ChrMian  Doctrine ;  Xeander,  Church  Uislory ;  Hippo'lytus, 
Philosophoumena ;  see  also  Hastings'  DB,  art.  '  Pleronia,'  with 
Literature  there  quoted.  A.  MiLLER. 

FULNESS  OF  THE  TIME  {TbT\ripu,ixaTouxpi»ov). 
— An  expression  used  by  St.  Paul  (Gal  4'')  to  mark 
the  opportuneness  of  the  coming  of  Christ  into  the 
world,  and  the  ripeness  of  the  age  for  the  great 
religious  revolution  He  was  to  effect.  It  empha- 
sizes the  unique  significance  of  the  period  as  the 
culmination  of  a  long  course  of  events,  by  which 
the  way  had  been  providentially  prepared  for 
Christ's  appearance,  and  His  introduction  of  a 
purer  type  of  religion.  The  evidences  of  such  a 
providential  preparation  are  indeed  remarkable. 
Along  diflferent  lines  of  historical  development  a 
situation  had  been  created  at  the  very  centre  of 
the  world's  life,  that  was  singularly  favourable  to 
the  planting  and  spread  of  a  loftier  faith.  The 
main  factors  usug,lly  recognized  as  contributing  to 
this  result  were :  (1)  the  peculiar  condition  which 
the  Jewish  people  had  readied  ;  (2)  the  dissemina- 
tiun  f,f  th.M  Jropk  lan-iiajv.,  fiiUmv.  .lud  r,,i,iuH.rcial 


(  riiiMih-^-t  rliciii.T,.,!  ilisriplii,,.  |,a,|  |ix,.,|  in  the 
Jewish  mill. I  111,-  lii'liuf  in  one  true  and  perfectly 
riglilrniis  (;,,.!,  and  subsequently  to  the  return 
from  I  lie  IXilr  I  here  had  been  no  relapse  into 
idolatry.  l.atliTly,  indeed,  tlinm-li  the  influence 
of  the  .seniles and  Phan^r,-,  h  ,!|,,,,  and  formality 
had  crept  in,  and  tin  <  i  ;  i  lou  of  religion 
had  been  carried  far  ;  y       n  i  i  iis^s  of  society 

there  was  a  wistful  strauiin-  mi.  r  imier  purity  and 
11  more  living  fellowsliip  with  Gud ;  and  in  spite 
of  the  soulless  bondage  of  ceremonial  observances, 
there  was  an  amount  of  deep  and  reverent  piety 
that  kept  the  nation's  heart  .sounder  than  might 
appear  on  the  surface.  At  all  events,  nowhere 
else  in  the  world  did  there  exist  so  vivid  a  concep- 
tion of  the  Divine  holiness  or  so  high  a  recognized 
standard   of   morality :    iuiwIhto    olsn,    therefore, 


,N  i 


hope,  which,  kept  alive  by  the  pressure  of  repeated 
misfortunes,  had,  under  the  tightening  grip  of 
lloman  domination,  sprung  up  with  passionate 
intensity.  The  political  situation  was  galling,  and 
the  Jewish  people,  pining  to  be  free  from  the 
foreign  yoke,  consoled  themselves  with  the  thouglit 
of  a  glorious  future.  It  was  a  time  of  high-strung 
unrest  and  expectancy  ;  yet  although  the  prospect 
of  political  emancipation  was  to  a  large  extent 
entertained,  there  were  multitudes  of  earnest  souls 


yearninj 


for 


higher  form  of  deliverance,  thi 


n  of  a  reign  of  righteousness  and  peace,  in  the 
benefits  (if  which  not  Israel   only,   but  the  whole 

( 111!  -hie  rale-line,  again,  the  influence  of  Jewish 
reli;jhius  ideas  had  been  widely  e.xtended  by  means 
of  the  Dispersion.  Conscious  of  being  raised  above 
the  manifold  forms  of  heathen  superstition  around 
them,  the  colonies  of  Jews  settled  in  the  trading 
cities  of  foreign  lands  felt  themselves  impelled  to 
aspire  after  a  certain  elevation  of  life ;  while  the 
loftier  moral  teaching  they  maintained  in  their 
synagogues  attracted  considerable  numbers  of  pro- 
selytes from  paganism.  Thus  the  conception  of 
the  Divine  unity  and  righteousness  was  being 
spread  over  a  large  section  of  the  heathen  world. 
So  far,  therefore,  botli  at  home  and  abroad  the 
Jewish  people  had  fulfilled  their  mission  in  the 
moral  and  religious  preparation  of  the  world  for 
the  entrance  of  Christianity. 

2.  Tlie  dissemination  of  tlie  Greek  language, 
culture,  and  commercicd  activity.  —  Ever  since 
the  conquests  of  Alexander  the  GreaA,  the  Greek 
tongue  had  attained  supremacy  among  the  civilized 
nations,  and  had  become  the  current  medium  for 
the  exchange  of  thought.  Even  the  OT  had  to  be 
rendered  into  Greek,  in  the  translation  known  as 
the  Septuagint.  Moreover,  Greek  learning,  litera- 
ture, and  speculation  exercised  a  pervasive  influ- 
ence far  and  near.  A  significant  indication  of  this 
is  to  be  found  in  the  rise  among  the  Jews  of  the 
Dispersion  of  a  school  of  thinkers  who  had  im- 
bibed the  Greek  culture,  and  who,  quickened  by 
the  intellectual  alertness  of  the  Greek  mind,  were 
drawn  to  take  part  in  the  literary  productivity  of 
the  age.  The  aim  of  this  Grjeco-Jewish  school 
was  to  make  the  purer  religious  faith  and  know- 
lodge  of  Israel  accessible  to  the  world.  With  its 
chief  seat  at  Alexandria,  its  leading  representa- 
tives, such  as  Aristobulus  and  Philo,  endeavoured 
to  show  that  the  Mosaic  law,  correctly  understood, 
contained  all  that  the  best  Greek  philosophers  had 
taught.  Thus  was  brought  about  a  mutual  action 
and  reaction  of  Jewish  and  Greek  ideas,  and  a 
soil  was  beinjT  made  ready  for  a  more  elevated 
spiritual  teaching,  based  on  the  unity  of  the  God- 
head and  the  eternal  obligation  of  righteousness. 

At  the  same  time  the  commercial  enterpri.se 
of  the  Greeks  was  rapidly  overcoming  national 
exclusiveness,  and  producing  a  freer  intercourse 
between  men  of  ditterent  races.  They  were  the 
cosmopolitans  of  the  period — inquisitive,  open- 
minded,  eager  to  enter  into  all  vivid  interests ; 
and  in  the  great  trading  cities  in  Asia  Minor  and 
along  the  Mediterranean  shore  they  fostered  the 
spirit  of  toleration  and  helped  to  .secure  full  scope 
for  the  advocacy  of  all  forms  of  belief. 

But  while  thus  stimulating  intellectual  receptiye- 
ness  everywhere,  the  most  important  contribution 
of  the  Greeks  in  the  preparation  for  Christianity 
was  the  universal  prevalence  they  gained  for  their 
rich  and  expressive  language,  inasnnich  as  by  this 
they  supplied  a  common  vehicle  of  intercourse, 
calculated  to  be  of  immense  advantage  in  the 
announcement  and  promulgation  of  the  Christian 
Evangel. 

3.  The  unifylnq  influence  of  Eomr.—'Vhs.t  the 
entire   known   world   was   then   embraced  witliiu 


FULNESS  OF  THE  TIME 


GADARA,  GADARENES 


Koine's  imperial  sway  was  a 
the  situation  which   hml   Ini 

barriers  of  language  !i;wl  1 u  ilnnnli^ln'il  ilnoimh 

the  inliuence  of  tlie  (.in^k^,  ~>,  iliinu-li  tlir  in- 
fluence of  the  Konians  tlir.  iMiriris  ..|  n.'il  i(.ii;ilily 
had  been  broken  down.  Thr  wli.ilc  wuiM  \v,is 
but  one  country;  and  from  thr  Ijqilnutrs  lo  ihr 
Atlantic  there  was  settled  goM'riinicnl,  oidi.'i,  .iiid 
the  rule  of  law  under  one  mjmumuii  .^cptrc.  In 
the  lull  of  natiunal  .strifes  wlii.-li  li.ul  thus  ,-omr- - 
the  pax  Eoii,r>„,>  ninvli.nit  aii.l  travrllrr  iimjvimI 
safely  from  hni.l  t..  Imi.l,  uu.l  l.y  tho  si.leiidi.l 
system  of  roads  fur  V.  Iiuh  lln-  Ki. 111:111  Kiii|iire -was 
famed,  the  lines  of  c-duiniiinii  a.l  i.m  wen' o|n-iic.l  in 
all  directions.  In  this  nmiv  ILhiic  hail  i.rrf'iiriiinl 
its  distinctive  part  by-  hi  inuiiiLj  almiit  a,  puht  icul  i-uii- 
ditionof  the  world  hilhirlu  1111.  .\ain[ihd  in  lustory. 

Thus  the  three  great  larr^uf  aiitiipiilv  had  con- 
tributed their  .share  t.i^ai.l,  the  fiilllli'iMiit  of  a 
manifestly  providential  ih>ii;n,  and  (In-  ji<_-iicid  had 
now  arrived  when  tlieir  su\  eral  lines  of  historical 
development  converged  to  a  meeting-point,  pro- 
ducing a  combination  of  circumstances  which 
rendered  issues  of  vast  moment  possible.  As  it 
has  been  .aiitly  put,  'the  Pity  of  God  is  built  at 
the  coiilluenii.  .if  I  111  re  ei  \  ilizatious '  (Conydieare 
and  Il.iwsi.nsN/.  /'.."/,  i.  ■_'). 

It  is  worthy  cf  nut.'  alsi.  that  tlie  little  country 
of  Palestine,  where  the  Fouiiihr  uf  t'lnistianity 
was  to  appear,  lay  at  the  very  e.  nii.-  .if  ihe  then 
known  world;  and  in  view  of  I  hi-  f.i.  1  ih.il  Ihiimgh 
the  provision  of  a  common  lannnaje  aii.l  fi  I'e  means 
of  movement  and  intercourse  tiie  avenues  of  access 
were  opened  to  every  land,  it  becomes  clear  that 


tlie  iiiost  signal  facilities  were  afibrded  for  tlie  dis- 
s.iuiii.ili.iu  of  a  faith  that  was  destined  to  wield  a 
\\<iii.l-\\  iih;  power. 

in  aii.lition  to  this,  account  has  to  be  taken  of 
the  .Ir.My  of  the  old  pagan  religions,  and  the 
■.iiniili.nii  .iir^  iiillux  of  Oriental  ideas.  There  was 
a, -.tiaii'ji-  iiiiei mingling  of  races  and  also  of  reli- 
■ji.ius  ill  li..i-,  NMth  the  result  that  men's  minds 
u.r.'  uii^i  Mh  il,  ,111(1  a  spirit  of  inquiry  was  awak- 
eni'.l  .iiniiiiu  I  h.i-.'  who  had  grown  dissatisfied  witli 
th.'  |i.iiiiil,n   hi-;ilhen  cults. 

.M,uiiie~i  ly  I  hr  age  was  ripe  for  a  new  revelation 
that  w.iiil.l  nil  I  I  thi-  deepest  needs  of  the  human 
soul;  aii.l  ill  I  h.' -il  u.ili.iu  .■leali'.Iby  the  course  of 
.l.'wi^h.  ( Iri'.'h,  ami  Kiiiiian  hi-tinv,  the  way  for  it 
ha.l  at  leii-th  li.'.n  |ir..|iaiv.l.  I'heii  Jesus  Christ 
appeared.  Tlie  '  fulness  of  the  time  '  had  come  for 
the  advent  of  the  promised  Saviour  with  His 
Gospel  of  life  and  grace  for  the  regeneration  of 
mankind. 
.I.rnin .:.     i:m:i|.I,   //.,/.  ../  /,  ,v,  /  i  Ij,,.  1 1- i,  m,1s.  v.and 

//.//'  I!    :  '       I    .     .  I  .        .     I,');  Cony- 

U-i.p.,iiul  II. .>.,.. .11,  -     /'..I'  .,.  ,-,  :    ,   I,     /..•.,.  1/.:.,.. 1.1-9-178; 

Eil.a.l.Liii. ,;..;.  .,„..':; ,  ..  ..  li„:.,i.ui,a,.M.  r.i.i.',  i.  usff. ; 

Gwatkin,  .lit.  '  Krniiiui  l';niiiire  '  in  H.istiiit;s'  DI!  ;  Wernle,  Be- 
ginnings 0/  Christian  it ij  (Eiig,  tr.  1903),  i.  \-36. 

G.  M'Haedy. 
FUNERAL See  Bueiai-,  and  Tomb. 

FURLONG.— See  Weights  and  Measures. 

FURNACE  OF  FIRE.— See  Fire,  p.  595\ 

FUTURE See  Eschatology. 


G 


GABBATHA  (ra^/3a«a)  o  o   ly         Jn  19      1  Hhasao        ha 

tl  e     Heb  e        one  tly     Ara  e  j 

vale   t  of  A  W<r  pw  0        1  u     tl  e     t       ol     y  of  tl  e  ^  a  d  n    b 

orl    eeE   Ne  tie        H     t  lb         4f         tl 

tl  e  1  teratu  e  tl  e  e     ted     Tl  e     o   I      api  a        I 
conne  ted    v  tl    a  root  33     of     1     1     tl  e   t       1 

1  ental  dea  b  t\a,t  oi  so     tl     q        v   I  0  n  Da 

Hen  e  t  ca  not  be  tal  en  a      le  t    al 

\t\     \db<T   pu  11  1  1  11  1 

surfa  e      A  tl    t  1      1         I 

alill   or      tl  1    1  1       1  1  I 

over    t   bene  tl       1     1  It]  I 

or  be  placed  o  ca   o     llj    tl     /i     a         j    1          t  11    1                 1 

seat     voul  1  be  t  n  eet  tl  e         It         of  tl  e  case  t               II              |              1 

fe  ich  a    ]  ot  n     It     ell  I  e  k  o    n  a    o       t  one  1111                             II 

clas       f   tie   le  lie  (tl      1                      1  tl  e  r  a    o  11                I              I           \ 

cate  )         II                         1                t       otle    a  z  t          f  Jl        t      I             II 

Gal  1      1           I  1       I                        1            t  yet   been  q    re  a  e  t       1         I  i            1            1 

fo      1    1       1          I              1     \1       1       tleattenpts  an„el     t     t                11 

to    1     t        tl     1       1  t           1        tl        a  es  nvolved  ve  e  at  1     t           1        It        1    j 

tl       et    e     e     ee  1    \  L  ient  C  ab   el     a    one  ot  tl        o  t       po  tai  t  of  tl  era — 

R  W    Moss  one  of  four    of     even     of  seventy    accord  ng  to 

GABRIEL  IS  mentioned  in  Lk  1  as  appearing  to  diflerent  enumerations  in  Jewish   writings.      See 

Zachari.Ts   to  aiinonnee  the   future    prei!iiancy  of  Jewish  Ennic.  s.v.                                O.  H.  GATES. 
Elisaheth  au.l  fh.-  hirll,  of  .l.ihn.  ami  to  Mary  with 

asiiiiil.-ir.aiini.iiiiie nt  ..f  Ih.-  hirlh  ..f  .lean's.     To  GADARA,  GADARENES.— In  the  AV  in  Mk  5' 

Zachan.i,,  he  ,l...hiiis  th.it  he  is  \M.nl  losianil  in  '  .and  Lk  8=''  Jesus  is  said  to  have  come  into  the 
the  presence  ..f  (hi.l,  au.l    that    In-  i-.  siail   hv  llim  '  'eouiitrv    ..f    th.'    ( ha.hir.ai.'s.'     Tii   the    KV  this  is 

on  the  mission   slal.'.l.      When    he   i-^   a^keil'   lor  a  .■oriv..|..'.l  I,,  ■  ( lei-.a-eiie-.'     On   tli.-  oilier  h.a.iid,  the 

sign,  he  is  coniii..(..nl  !..  ii.,]i..-..  ihi-  -.'M.r..  -.j.jn  of  A  \'  in  Ml  ,s--  h;;^  ■e..iiiilrv  of  tli.'  ( lei-esenes,' 
dumbness  until  the  fullilin.-ut  of  the  pr.'.lietiou  ,  while  th.'  l;\'  h.is  ■  Cnhirl^iie,.,.'  'riii-..  are  the 
that   has    been    made.       The   Gospel    mention    of  1  onh     |ia,-,i._:.-     all    i.-teiiiim    to    (lii>    .  ur.'   of   the 

Gabriel,   then,   is  as  a  messenger  of   the   signal  dem. .111,1.  .nnl  1  la- ilest  1  u.i  ion  oi  1  In-  henl  of  swine 

favour   of   God,    at   least   in   connexion   with   the  — w  h.i.- 1  ;a.i:n  ,1    1-   iii.nti..ii..l    m  S.  1  ipi  m.'.      How 

Messiah  and  His  forerunner.  the  rea.lin-  l'oi"n,..).'.Oi'  erepl  in,  .u.  if  oii-inal,  wliat 


nt,er 


,els 


032 


GAIX 


GALILEE 


exactly  it  meant,  we  may  not  be  able  to  explain 
satisfactorily,  but  one  tliincr  is  certain,  —  the 
niLracle  cannot  have  taken  [nace  at  the  city  of 
Gadara,  the  modern  Umm  Kcis.  For  that  town 
stands  on  a  high  plateau  on  the  further  side  of  the 
wide  and  extremely  steep  gorge  of  the  Hieromax 
river,  and  is  about  a  3  hours'  ride  distant  from 
the  Lake.  As  Thomson  says  (LB  ii.  p.  354),  '  If 
the  miracle  was  performed  at  Gadara,  then  the 
swine  must  have  run  down  the  mountain  for 
an  hour,  forded  the  deep  Jarmuk  (Hieromax), 
ascended  its  northern  bank,  and  raced  across  the 
level  plain  several  miles  before  they  could  reach 
the  nearest  margin  of  the  lake — a  feat  which  no 
herd  of  s«-ine  would  be  likely  to  achieve  even 
though  they  were  "  possessed.'"  In  short,  no  on» 
who  has  seen  the  position  of  Gadara  would  ever 
dream  of  locating  the  miracle  there.  See  Gera- 
SENES.  J.  SOUTAK. 

GAIN. — The  word  '  gain '  occurs  ten  times  in  the 
AV  of  the  Gospels,  and  on  every  occasion  in  one  of 
the  sayings  of  our  Lord.  Tliese  passages  fall  into 
three  i;rnups  :  (1)  The  parallel  records  of  a  saying 
i-l.iat.Ml  l,v  :.ll  the  Sviio]. lists  (Mt  162«,  Lk  9^, 
Mk  s  )  :  -J)  111,.  |.uial.l._-s  wf  the  Talents  and  the 
I'oun.ls  ,.\li  -J.-.'-^'-^-.  Lk  lii''«.!8).  (3)  the  single 
rucuid  of  Uiu  saying  in  ill  IS'^  It  is  (with  the 
exception  of  St.  Luke's  use  of  StaTrpj-ynaTedofiai^ 
irpo<rep7dfo/tai,  and  ttoi^u  in  the  parable  of  the 
Pounds)  always  a  translation  of  KepSali'u.  Tliis 
verb  and  its  cognate  substantive  /c^poos  are  used 
elsewhere  in  the  NT  by  St.  Paul  (1  Co  y'^- »)■  =i. -"J, 
Ph  P^  3"-8,  Tit  1"),  St.  Peter  (1  P  3'),  and  St. 
Luke  (Ac  27'-',  a  peculiar  use,  but  not  without 
classical  parallels). 

1.  Mt  le-'s  (II ;  cf.  Ph  3'  and  1=')  contrasts  gain 
and  loss  as  they  touch  the  direct  personal  relation 
of  the  soul  to  God.  A  man  may  count  the  A\orld 
a  thing  to  be  gained,  and  give  his  soul  as  the  price 
of  it ;  or,  with  the  Aviser  Apostle,  may  reckon 
communion  with  Christ  a  gain  worth  the  sacrilice 
of  everything  else  ;  or,  rising  to  tlie  vision  of  the 
great  beatitude,  may  look  for  the  supreme  gain, 
something  better  even  than  living  liere  in  Christ, 
to  the  life  beyond  the  grave.  This  is  the  mystic's 
conception  of  religion — '  I  and  God  are  alone  in 
the  world.'  All  gain  apart  from  union  with  the 
Divine  is  really  loss  ;  and  loss,  or  what  seems  loss, 
incurred  in  achieving  that  union  is  gain.  '  Qui 
invenit  Jesum,'  says  Thoinns  a  Kcmpis,  '  invcnit 
thesaunim  bonum ;  immo  Imnuni,  snpi.r  (niuir 
bonum.'  The  thou''lit  lin-l^  ii,  Miii|,l.-,t  :i!ia  ;ii 
the  same  time  its  fullest  i-xiiic^^miii  in  the  |.:a-ahli's 
of  the  Hidden  Treasure  and  tlu^  I'earl  ot  Great 
Price,  whose  finder  sells  '  with  joy'  all  that  he  has, 
to  buy  what  he  has  discovered. 

2.  the  i)arables  of  the  Talents  and  the  Pounds 
express  the  ,i;ain  lo  rh,ii.iri,.i-  n\,\vU  comes  of 
faithful  use  of  pi.N  ,i  -  .,im1  i  iiilii  i,.^.  I'hc  tlioui;ht 
is  of  the  realizai  u.n  ,,i  tin-  |io--il,iliii,.s  tliat  .artrin 
man  and  the  siili^r(|iuiit  liim'ss  fm  hi^'her  work. 
Here  the  gain  di-peiids  less  on  sacrifice  than  on 
diligence  and  faithfulness.  This  is  a  common  con- 
ception of  the  meaning  of  the  Christian  religion. 
In  it  life  is  not  a  period  of  ,asi)iration  for  an 
unutterable  beatitude,  but  a  time  of  training,  in 
expectation  of  the  gain  of  the  Master's  jirai.se  and 
ultimate  ability  to  do  more  and  greater  work  for 
Him. 

3.  Mt  18",  with  which  must  l>e  connected  1  Co 
9""^-,  sjwaks  of  the  gain  of  winning  other  souls  for 
Chri.st.  Here  there  is  the  need  of  sacrifice,  the 
sacrifice  ..f  (iride.  of  social  and  racial  i.rcjudice; 
and  tli.Tc  i.  :,I.o  Mir  .C..I  of  f.iidifniin'.ss  and 
diligence.  This  i,  |I„.  mi-Hoiiarv's  c,,iicc|.tii)n  of 
Chrisliainlv.      \Vc   lii.a    it    ill    St.' Paul    and   in  all 


them,  '  Woe  is  me  if  I  preach  not  the  gospel.'  The 
joy  of  this  gain  is  anticipated  in  Dn  12^  (cf.  Ja 
5'"--").  Its  greatness  is  most  fully  known  when 
we  realize  that  we  share  it  \A-ith  God  Himself  and 
His  angels  (Lk  IS""-  "•  '-"■)• 

In  all  three  classes  of  passages  the  language  is 
that  of  the  market-place  where  men  get  gain  by 
bargaining  or  labouring  ;  but  it  is  immensely 
sublimated  and  iinrilii  ,1  of  all  selfishness  and  gi'eecf. 


Literature. 
Spirit  ;  Thoma 
GeniKtnica  {ly. 
Goulburn,  Thu< 
Life  and  Let/r 
John  Weisley ; 


i.ids  de  Sales,  The 
'  Christ ;  Theoiogia 
ivlor,  Hoty  Liviivj ; 
1.  J.  Coleridge,  S.J., 
■is  Xamer-.M.  Southey,  Life  of 


of  eminent  modern  i 

J.  O.  Hannay. 

GALILEAN  (FaXtXaios).— Twice  Jesus  is  men- 
tioned as  a  GalUajan  :  once  by  a  maid-servant  (Mt 
26'*') ;  once  when  Pilate  was  anxious  to  transfer  the 
trial  of  Jesus  from  his  own  to  Herod's  cotirt  (Lk  23"). 
It  Avas  during  the  trial  of  Jesus  also  that  Peter 
was  recognized  as  a  Galihtan  by  the  bystanders 
(Mt  26",  Mk  U™,  Lk  22=" ;  see  Galilee,  §  7).  In 
Jn  4-"  we  read  that  Galiheans,  who  had  been  at 
Jerusalem  and  had  seen  the  works  of  Jesus  there, 
received  Him  on  that  account  in  their  own  land. 
In  Lk  13'  we  are  told  of  Pilate's  (evidently  recent) 
pimishment  of  some  Galilseans,  whom  he  had  slain 
even  wdiile  they  were  sacrificing.  This  event  can- 
not be  identified  with  any  revolt  mentioned  in 
histoi'y.  Some  suppose  Barabbas  to  have  been 
arrested  in  connexion  therewith  ;  some  would  asso- 
ciate it  with  the  revolt  of  Judas  of  Galilee  (Jos. 
BJ  II.  viii.  1),  but  this  took  place,  according  to 
Ac  S",  more  tlian  twenty  years  before.  Probably 
it  refers  to  some  small  outbreak,  severely  punished 
by  Pilate  as  usual  (cf.  Philo,  Leg.  ad  Gaiiim,  37). 

For  characteristics  of  GalUteans  see  Galilke, 
§  7,  '  People.'  G.  "VV.  Thatcher. 

GALILEE.  -1.  AVfHic— The  English  form  of  the 
name  '  Galilee '  is  derived  from  the  Hebrew  S-S) 
{Grilll),  Aram.  n'-Sj  (Gdnia  or  G'lllii),  through  Gr. 
Ta\i\aia  and  Lat.  Galilcea.  The  Heb.  word  denotes 
simply  a  'circuit'  or  'district',  and  in  Is  9'  Galilee 
is  called  '  Galilee  (R"V^m  '  the  district ')  of  the 
nations,'  and  in  1  Mac  5"  TaXiXaia  a\\o<l>i\uv 
('Galilee  of  the  strangers').  In  other  pas-sages  of 
the  OT  it  is  simply  called  '  the  district.' 

2.  History. — When  the  Hebrew  invasion  of  Pales- 
tine took  place,  the  main  jiart  of  Galilee  was 
.allotted  to  Zebulun,  Asher,  and  Naphtali.  Accord- 
iiiu  to  .I^  )3<>:b_  Zebulun  was  not  altogether  success- 
ful ill  ill  i\  ing  out  the  inhabitan'.j  of  their  portion, 
"liile  Aslier  and  Naphtali  had  to  be  content  to 
settle  as  best  they  could  anumg  the  inhabitants, 
'  for  they  did  not  'drive  them  out.'  These  inhabit- 
ants seem  to  have  been  Amorites  and  Hivites  from 
the  Leb.anon.  An  ;iceoiml  of  one  (or  two)  of  the 
battles  fotight  in  llii^  .M,,i,(n  i>  fnuiid  in  Jg  4-5. 
Intliedav>of  theM-i  i      !  ;■     :il\vayssuH'ered 

in  the  Syrian  wars,      h  I  l-v  IJen-hadad 

(IK  1.^^'"),  prolijibly  ^^^■n  link  kv  Ahab,  taken 
again  by  the  Araiiia'ans  umler  Hazael  (2  K  12"* 
13~).  and  recovered  by  Jeroboam  II.  It  was  also 
on  the  high-road  of  the  Assyrian  invjision,  and 
was  won  for  Assyria  bv  Ti'.'latliiiilespr  III.  in  734 
(2  K  15'.»),  many  of  its  inli.-il.it.inis  kcin.j  carried 
into  captivity.  From  this  lime  ii|.  i..  ike  end  of 
the  2nd  cent.  n.C.  the  iiojinlation  \\,i-  keatkeii,  with 
a  small  number  of  .lewisli  ^cttkr-.  \\  ko  .iiiaclieil 
themselves  to  .lenis.ilcm   .-ift.  i    tkc  nimn  from  llie 

Exile.      About    the   vear  ir,l.  si II  Ike   kiotlier  of 

Judas  Maccaha-ns  j.ulsued  ike  Syiiali-  to  I'tule- 
mais,  and  on  his  way  back  hron:;lil  tlie  (iHlihean 
Jews  and  their  property  to  Jiuhea  (1  Mac  5-'"^). 
Some  60  years  lat«r  the  whole  state  of  affairs  in 
(Jalilee  was  changed.  According  to  Strabo,  on 
the  authority  of  tiniagenes  (Jos.  Ant.  XIII.  xi.  3), 


GALILEE 


Jpper 


Aristobulus  (i;.C.  104-103)  cunquered  much  of  Gali- 
Ire,  anil  .■<iin|.L'lleil  {[„■  iiilialiilaiil.s  I,,  l.c  cirfuiucised 
aii.i  live  ar,,u.lii.u  I..  .l.-«isli  laus.  'I'liis  N»..rk  had 
jiiohaMy  Urrn  aliva,lv  lir.uuii  l.y  .luhii  ll.yrcaiius 
(l;.U.  li5-lu.:>).  Ueiud  al  liis  'death  bc(iueathed 
Galilee  to  Herod  Aiitiijas,  who  succeeded  after 
much  opposition  in  having  Ids  legacy  confirmed  at 
Rome. 

3.  Extent. — The  amount  of  territory  covered  by 
the  name  '  Galilee '  varied  in  different  times.  Ori- 
ginally it  comprised  the  hilly  and  mountainous 
country  to  the  nortli  of  the  Plain  of  Esdraelon  or 
the  smaller  plain  of  chl'iuttmif.  Tlie  boundaries 
were  probably  not  A\ell  delincd,  but  on  the  north  it 
included  Kedesh  (.)os'JO''JF'-).  It  was  later  spoken 
of  in  two  divisions— Upper  and  Lower  Galilee  (cf. 
Jth  P,  1  Mae  IS"-"),  and  in  the  Mislma  is  divided 
into  three  parts,  these  corresponding  to  the  natural 
divisions  of  plain,  hill-country,  and  mountain. 

The  boundaries  of  Galilee  at  the  time  of  Christ 
are  thus  given  by  Josephus  : 

'  Now  PhcDnice  and  Syria  surround  the  two  Galilees,  which 
are  called  Upper  and  Lower  Galilee.  They  are  bouuded  on  the 
VV.  by  the  borders  of  the  territory  belonf^n^f  to  Ptolemais,  and 
by  Carmel,  which  mountain  of  old  belonged  to  the  Gahlieans, 
but  now  to  the  Tyrians ;  and  next  it  is  Oaba  (Jfbdta*),  which 
is  called  "the  city  of  horsemen,"  because  those  horsemen  that 
were  dismissed  by  Herod  the  king  dwelt  therein  ;  they  are 
bounded  on  the  S.  by  Samaria  and  Scythopolis,  as  far  as  the 
streams  of  the  Jordan ;  on  the  E.  by  Hippene  (the  district  of 
Hippos,  Susiyeli)  and  Gadaris  (the  district  of  Gadara,  Uimii 
Keis),  and  also  by  Gaulanitis  (Jauldn)  and  tiie  borders  of  the 
kingdom  of  Agrippa  ;  and  their  N.  parts  are  bounded  by  Tyre, 
and  the  country  of  the  Tyrians.  As  for  what  is  called  Lower 
Galilee,  it  extends  in  length  from  Tiberias  to  Chabulon  (Kdbiti), 
and  Ptolemais  is  its  neighbour  on  the  coast ;  and  its  breadth  is 
from  the  village  called  Xaloth  (Iksat),  which  lies  in  the  gi 
plain,  to  Bersabe,  from  which  beginning  the  breadth  of  Uf 
Galilee  is  also  taken  to  the  village  Baca,  which  divides  the  land 
of  the  Tyrians  from  Galilee ;  its  length  is  also  from  Meloth 
(Meiron)  to  Thella  (probably  Tell  Thala),  a  village  near  the 
■  Jordan'  (BJ  in.  iii.  1). 

i.  Geography. — The  southernmost  division  of 
Galilee  was  Esdraelon  (G.  A.  Smitli,  HGHL  p.  379). 
It  consists  of  (1)  tlie  triangular  plain  about  200 
feet  above  sea-level,  29  miles  long  from  the  foot  of 
Carmel  to  Jenin,  15  from  .Jenin  to  Tabor,  and  15 
from  Tabor  to  the  foot  of  Carmel ;  (2)  the  valley  of 
Jezreel  (Nahr  Jnlud),  running  down  for  12  miles 
from  Jezreel  to  Bethshean,  some  400  feet  below  sea- 
level.  The  Plain  of  Esdraelon  is  watered  by  the 
Kishon  flowing  to  the  Mediterranean  ;  but,  as  the 
edges  are  somewhat  liigher  than  the  centre,  it  is 
often  marshy.  It  ]ilaj'ed  a  great  part  in  the  his- 
tory of  Palestine  (cf.  HGHL  p.  391  ff.),  but  has 
no  mention  in  the  story  of  tlie  Gospels. 

On  the  other  hand,  tlie  middle  division  of  Galilee, 
known  as  Lower  Galilee,  contains  nearly  all  the 
important  sites  of  the  Gospel  record.  Naz.-ireth, 
Capernaum,  Shunem,  Nain,  Cana,  etc.,  aic  within 
its  borders.  It  is  bounded  on  the  W.  l>y  llie  I'lain 
of  Ptolemais,  on  the  S.  by  the  Plains  ui  llsdiaelon 
and  Jezreel,  on  the  E.  by  the  Sea  of  Galilee  (though 
sometimes  a  part  of  tlie  country  east  of  the  sea 
was  considered  Galiljean),  and  on  the  N.  by  a  line 
pas.sing  from  the  N.  end  of  the  Sea  of  CJalilee 
through  Ramah  to  the  coast.  It  consists  of  four 
cliains  of  hills  running  east  and  west,  intercepted 
by  valleys  and  plains.  The  hills  reach  a  height  of 
about  1200  feet.  The  southern  chain  consists  of 
the  Nazareth  hills,  with  Mt.  Tabor;  the  next 
range  contains  the  Kiini  Ilallhi  of  Crusading 
fame;  the  third,  the  (-ity  of '.b)tap:ila, :  while  the 
fourth  consists  of  the  southern  slopes  i>f  I  he  moun- 
tains of  Upper  Galilee.  The  central  ]ilaiii  of  iJ- 
Buttmif  is  about  500  feet  above  sea-li'\el.  while 
the  coast  of  the  Sea  of  Galilee  is  nearly  Too  te.f 
below  sea-level.  The  wlnile  country  is  well  watered 
by  streams  flcjwinu  easi  m  \ws(,,  and  was  extremely 
fertile.     The  -i.i      .1    il      i  liins  was  green,  and 

•  The  identificn  t  i   ■         '  i  i.  Uiose  of  Sir  C.  W.  Wilson 


evergreen  oaks  grew  on  the  hills.  The  corn- 
fields ga\e  a  plenteous  harvest,  and  pomegranates 
abounded. 

Upper  Galilee  ranged  from  the  N.  boundary  of 
Lower  Galilee  to  the  Tyrian  boundary,  which 
seems  to  have  been  at  the  time  of  Christ  just 
south  of  ^Cedesli,  which  according  to  Josephus  was 
a  Tyrian  fortress  on  the  borders  of  Galilee  (Ant. 
Xin.  V.  6;  liJ  IL  xviii.  1,  iv.  ii.  3).  It  is  a  land 
of  mountains,  where  the  -hills  run  from  2000- to 
4000  feet  in  height.  It  too  was  a  fertile  land,  with 
thick  woods,  sycamores,  olives,  vines,  and  green 
pastures  by  its  waters. 

5.  Roads. — '  Juda-a  was  on  the  road  to  nowhere  ; 
Galilee  is  covered  with  roads  to  everywhere'  (G. 
A.  Smith,  HGHL  p.  425).  Roads  an  the  East 
even  now  are  often  mere  tracks,  scarcely  recogniz- 
able by  the  Western.  They  are  repaired  for  great 
occasions,  and  soon  allowed  to  fall  again  into  their 
natural  condition.  Remains  of  pavements,  how- 
ever, show  that  at  the  time  of  Christ  the  Roman 
genius  for  road-making  had  been  at  work  in  the 
district  of  Galilee.  Esijecially  was  this  the  case 
on  the  great  liigh-road,  the  '  Way  of  the  Sea,'  as 
it  was  called  in  the  Middle  Ages  (from  an  inter- 
pretation of  Is  <»'),  which  cios.d  the  middle  of 
Lower  Galilee.  The  eastern  termini  of  the  main 
roads  were  the  two  bri.lues  which  erossed  the 
Jordan.  These  were  (1)1  he  l.ii.l-e  .about  half-way 
between  Merom  and  tlie  Se.a,  of  ( iaiilee,  now  called 
the  'Bridge  of  Jacob's  I  laiij^ht.is.'  To  this  came 
the  road  from  Damascus  and  the  intervening 
country.  Westward  from  the  river  the  road  ran 
by  Safed  and  Ramah  to  Ptolemais.  From  this  a 
branch  struck  off  a  few  miles  west  of  the  river, 
jiassed  by  Arbela  (Irbid),  and  rejoined  the  high- 
road near  Ramah.  Another  branch  went  soutli- 
wards  to  the  west  coast  of  the  Sea  of  Galilee  at 
KhCin  Miiiyeh,  and  proceeded  to  Bethshean,  where 
it  joined  the  road  from  (2)  the  bridge  a  few  miles 
south  of  the  Sea  of  Galilee,  now  called  the  Jisr  cl- 
Mujamia.  Over  this  bridge  came  the  traffic  from 
Arabia  and  Gilead.  From  it  one  road  passed 
through  Bethshean,  the  Valley  of  Jezreel,  and  tlie 
Plain  of  Esdraelon,  to  the  coast  of  the  Mediter- 
ranean, and  so  on  to  Egypt ;  another  by  Cana  and 
Sepjihoris  to  Ptolemais.  The  main  road  from  the 
shore  of  the  Sea  of  (ialilei'  to  the  lii^ldands  went 
by  the  Wndy  d-Hammu,ii  paM  Arlnla,  (hen  be- 
tween Tabor  and  the  Na/.aielli  hills  I..  Ilxiraelon. 
Along  these  and  many  oIluT  vo.uls  Ihcweil  a  cease- 
less stream  of  traffic,  and  the  fulness  of  their  life 
is  reflected  in  tlie  parables  of  i 
Bihl.  iv.  5191  ;  HGHL  p.  430  f.). 

6.  Government. — Galilee  was  a  part  of  the  Roman 
Empire  ;  that  is,  in  the  days  of  Christ  it  was  under 
the  emperors  Augustus  and  Tiberius.  Roman 
garrisons  were  in  towns  all  round  the  country. 
Roman  influence  was  felt  everywiiere.  But  the 
mass  of  the  people  had  little  or  nothing  to  do  with 
the  Roman  Empire  directly.  The  direct  govern- 
ment of  the  land  was  in  the  hands  of  Herod 
Antipas,  to  whom,  with  the  title  of  'tetrarcli,'  it 
was ,  assigned  by  Augustus  after  the  death  of 
Herod.  Antipas  was  17  years  old  at  his  accession 
to  power,  and  establislied  his  capital  at  Sepphoris. 
About  the  year  22,  however,  he  built  a  new  city  on 
the  shore  of  the  Sea  of  Galilee,  named  it  Tiberias 
in  honour  of  the  emperor,  and  made  it  his  capital. 
This  city  was  governed  after  the  CJreek  model  by 
.1,  .ouncil  of  GOO,  with  an  Arcliim  and  c 
in  these  two  cities  was  centred  th 
.iWiiiinisI  ration  of  affairs  in  (Jalilee  il 
of  Christ.  But  in  Galilee,  as  elsewlii 
details  of  life  were  regulated  by  the  Jews'  own 
religious  laws  rather  than  by  ordinary  civil  enact- 
ments. The  chief  authority  was  the  Sanhedrin 
(see  Sanhedrin)  at  Jerusalem,  to  which  appeals 


legal 
-fife 
cliief 


634 


GALL 


GAMES 


could  be  made  when  local  doctors  dittered.  The 
chief  local  difficulties  were  usually  satisfied  by  the 
decisions  of  local  councils  (cf.  Mt  10"),  probably 
associated  more  or  less  closely  with  the  local  syna- 
gogues (see  Synagogue). 

7.  Peojjle.  —  Galilee  was  a  populous  country. 
'  The  cities  lie  very  thick,  and  the  very  many 
villages  are  everywhere  so  populous  from  the  rich- 
ness of  the  soil,  that  the  very  least  of  them  con- 
tains more  than  fifteen  thousand  inhabitants '  (Jos. 
BJ  in.  iii.  2).  In  another  place  Josephus  says 
there  were  240  cities  and  villages  in  Galilee  {Life, 
45),  and  that  many  of  these  had  strong  walls. 
From  each  of  these  to  the  others  must  have  been  a 
network  of  tracks  and  roads  in  addition  to  the 
main  roads  (see  above),  and  the  land  was  a  scene 
of  constant  activity.  The  bracing  air  of  the  hills 
and  the  activity  of  everyday  life  formed  a  people  of 
energy  and  vigour.  '  The  Galiljeans  are  inured  to 
war  from  their  infancy,  and  have  been  always  very 
numerous ;  nor  has  their  country  ever  been  destitute 
of  men  of  courage '  (Jos.  BJ  III.  iii.  2).  Regarded 
with  a  certain  amount  of  patronizing  contempt  by 
the  pure-blooded  and  more  strictly  theologically- 
minded  Jews  of  Jerusalem  and  its  neighbourliood, 
they  stUl  had  the  religious  zeal  of  country-folk. 
This  zeal  was  quickened  by  their  pilgrimages  to 
Jerusalem,  which  made  a  greater  impression  on 
their  active  minds  than  on  those  wlio  were  more 
familiar  with  the  life  of  the  Holy  City.  At  any 
apparent  insult  to  their  religion  they  were  read}' 
to  break  out  in  revolt.  Before,  during,  and  after 
the  life  of  Jesus,  Galiloean  leaders  arose  and  flew 
to  arms  in  the  vain  attempt  to  secure  religious 
autonomy.  Yet  they  differed  in  many  respects 
from  their  Judsean  brothers.  The  \ery  technical 
terms  of  the  market  and  the  details  of  their  religi- 
ous customs  varied  from  those  of  the  South  (cf. 
Schiirer,  HJF  II.  i.  4).  Their  pronunciation  of 
the  Aramaic  language  had  peculiarities  of  its  OA\'n 
(Mt  26^''),  one  of  these  being  the  confusion  of  the 
guttural  sounds.  Besides,  however,  the  natural 
bodily  vigour  and  mental  freshness  of  these  high- 
landers,  tlie  most  important  difference  between 
them  and  the  people  of  Judoea  lay  in  the  different 
attitude  in  daily  life  towards  the  larger  world  of  the 
Roman  Empire  and  Hellenistic  influence.  Know- 
ledge of,  at  any  rate  spoken,  Greek  was  to  them 
a  necessity  of  business,  and  no  attempt  could  be 
niiule,  as  in  Jerusalem,  to  avoid  the  study  of  it  (cf. 
Moulton,  Prolegomena  to  Gram,  of  NT  Greek,  1906, 
p.  8).  Many  must  have  been,  like  Matthew,  in 
Government  employ.  All  were  brought  into  daily 
contact  with  Greek  and  Roman  modes  of  life  and 
thought.  It  was  to  this  people  of  larger  e.\perience 
of  life  and  broader  ways  of  thinking  that  Jesus 
appealed  in  the  greater  part  of  His  earthly  ministry, 
and  from  it  that  He  chose  the  men  who  were  first 
to  make  His  message  known  to  the  world.  See 
also  art.  Sea  of  Galilee. 

Literati-re.— .4rtt.  '  Galilee  '  in  Hastings'  DB,  and  '  Galilaa ' 
in  PRm-,  Neubaucr,  G^og.  du  Talmud;  Gudrin,  Galilee; 
Merrill,  Galilet  in  the  Time  of  Christ ;  G.  A.  Smith,  HGHL, 

chs.  XX,  xxi.  G.  AV.  Thatcher. 

GALL  {xo\iJel).- 

In  LXX  x«>..i  represents  (1)  ^^{^  (Dt  3232,  Ps  692') ;  and  (2) 
njaS  trormirood  (Pr  i\  La  315).  vvn  and  .n;j;,S  are  sometimes 
combined,  e.g.  Dt  29'8  nyjjy  es-\,  LXX  i>  x**?"  ««i  -rmpiif,  Vulg. 
fel  et  amaritvdinem  ;  La  319  psill  .XJ^,  LXX  ^ixfia  xai  x"^r, 
Vulg.  absynthiiet/dtis. 

It  thus  appears  that  xoM  was  used  of  any  bitter 
drug,  and  there  is  therefore  n  i  iH  trrj  uicy  be- 
tween Mt  27"  o^oj- [«f  OS  is  n  .  ■  -i  =  ififion 
to  Ps  69-']  yuera  xo^%  /J-e/iiyniK:.  I  M:  I  ,.ravp- 
vi<t)i4vov  dtvov.  The  potion  ailniini-i.i '-I  ;  i.  i  In- <•;-«- 
ciarius  (see  CiiUcinxiON')  was   coin|i(isiMl  oi  wine 


and  a  variety  of  drugs — frankincense,  laudanum, 
myrrh,  resin,  sattiou,  mastich.*  Thus  •  wine  mixed 
with  gair  and  '  myrrhed  wine'  are  equivalent 
phrases,  signifying  generally  ■medicated  wine  (cf. 
Swete,  St.  Mark,  ad  loe.).  Mt  27"  and  Ac  8'^ 
are  the  only  places  in  the  NT  where  x°^'h  occurs. 
Daviu  Smith. 
GAMES. — In  the  Gospels  there  are  none  of  the 
analogies  from  athletic  contests  wliich  are  fre- 
quently drawn  in  the  Acts  and  the  Epistles.  This 
variety  in  the  range  of  illustration  is  traced  with- 
out difficulty  to  the  difl'erent  interests  of  the 
readers  or  hearers.  The  Hebrews,  unlike  the 
Greeks  and  Romans,  gave  little  attention  to 
games.     The  climate  of  theu-  land  may  help  to  (^ 

account  for  this,   but  the   chief  reason  must   be  ; 

found  in  their  view  of  life,  which  made  it  impos- 
sible for  them  to  look  upon  games  with  the  eye  of 
the  Greek.  Where  tlie  Greek  had  his  Isthmian 
games,  the  Hebrew  had  his  Passover,  or  other 
solemn  festival.  The  introduction  of  a  gymnasium 
by  Jason  (2  Mac  4'''")  was  accounted  an  act  of 
disloyalty  to  the  faith  of  his  fathers,  and  a  sur- 
render to  Hellenic  influences.  He  was  accused  of 
neglecting  the  altar  for  the  palnestra.  Herod  is 
said  by  Josephus  (Ant.  XV.  viii.  1)  to  have  insti- 
tuted solemn  games  in  honour  of  Csesar  ;  but  such 
pnutir.-  nrvri  wou  the  approval  of  the  Rabbis, 
or  uf  ill.'  M.itinu  US  a  whole.     Jesus  preached  to 

a   I I'l.-   \\liii    knew  little   of    the    games  of   the 

Grirk,,  auil  wliu  liad  been  taught  to  hate  what 
they  knew.  But  in  Galilee  the  children  played 
their  immemorial  games : 


As  if  his  whole  vocation 


(WoRuswoRTU,  Ode  on  Immortality). 
From  such  play  Jesus  drew  a  description  of  the 
generation  wlucli  had  listened  to  John  the  Baptist 
and  HimseU  (Mt  11'',   Lk  7"-).     Two  groups  are 

Slaying  in  the  market-place  :  the  nmsicians  are 
ivided  from  the  others.  They  pipe,  but  the 
children  will  not  play  :  they  suggest  '  funerals,' 
but  their  comrades  sulkily  refuse  to  join.  The 
parable  is  a  vi^-id  picture  of  the  fickleness,  sulki- 
nes-^.  nnil  self-will  of  the  contemporaries  of  Jesus. 
It  i-  iidt  ii.Mi— luy  t.)  re.-iil  intn  tlie  parable  a  con- 
cleniii.itioii  i.t  tliu-i'  wlic.  -hould  liave  outgrown 
chil.ii-h  thin-s  l.ut  are  -n\\  plaxing  at  life.  The 
'musicians'  liave  been  likened  hy  some  to  Jesus 
and  John  the  Baptist,  by  others  to  the  people  (see 
a  discussion  by  Stalker  in  Expositor,  4th  series, 
vol.  vii.  p.  29). 

The  soldiers  probably  played  Avitli  dice  when 
they  cast  lots  for  the  garments  of  Jesus  (Mt  27**) ; 
and  they  may  have  been  plajing  a  game  when 
they  said  to  Jesus,  '  Prophesy  unto  us,  thou 
Christ ;  who  is  he  that  struck  thee  ? '  (26'»). 

Jesus  did  not  deal  with  the  problems  which  arise 
in  modern  society  from  the  gro\\-ing  importance  of 
games  in  the  scheme  of  life.  As  far  as  we  know. 
He  did  not  discuss  the  Rabbinical  attitude  to  tlie 
Hellenic  games  ;  nor  do  the  Apostnlie  writers  hint 
of  dangers  to  Christian  converts  from  tlie  ennte.-t-. 
The  ethical  questions  must  be  decided  li.\-  an  ap- 
peal to  the  interpretation  of  life  in  the  (iospels, 
and  especially  to  the  estimate  given  by  Jesus  of 
the  true  relations  between  body  and  spirit.  It  is 
clear  that  to  Him  the  body  was  not  an  end  in 
itself  (Mt  10^),  but  must  become  the  docile  ser- 
vant of  the  soul  (18*),  even  at  the  cost  of  severe 
discipline.  Games  will  be  approved  where  they 
give  bodily  eftectiveness,  that  it  may  be  tlie 
'earthly  support'  of  the  endurance  of  the  sjiirit. 
Tliey  will  be  condemned  if  they  lead  to  a  nei;leet 
of  the  serious  interests  of  life  (6^),  or  of  the  duty 
*Cf.  Wetstein  on  Mk  15=3. 


GEHENNA 


635 


owed  to  otlier.s.  The  Cliristiiin  ideal  of  a  life 
temperate  and  just  does  not  include  a  life  whose 
first  interest  is  amusement,  or  one  in  which  '  dis- 
traction '  is  necessary  to  prevent  ennui  (see  Dorner, 
Christian  Ethics,  Eng.  tr.  p.  458). 

Literature. — Hastings'  DB,  art.  'Games';  Schiirer,  IIJP, 
Inde.N,  s.  '  Games ' ;  Expositor,  i.  v.  [1877]  '237. 

Edward  Shillito. 

GARDEN  (k^ttos). — In  its  most  precise  applica- 
tion the  term  refers  to  a  level  ywri-  oi  i^round 
enclosed  liy  a  wall  or  hed-v.  i;i  wlmh  pluuts, 
shrubs,  and  trees  are  cultivalrcl  Ky  in  i_v:ii  imi.  Its 
area,  ranging  from  a  small  vrL;i'i,i,Mi'  pldt  lieside 
the  house  to  the  dimensions  of  a  farm,  is  limited 
only  by  the  supply  of  water.  While  not  e.Kclud- 
ing  the  idea  of  garden  familiar  in  the  West,  its 
meaning  in  general  is  often  nearer  to  that  of  our 
nursery -garden  and  orchard.  In  the  irrigated 
garden,  vines,  fig,  walnut,  pomegranate,  lemon, 
and  other  trees  are  grown  for  the  sake  of  orna- 
ment, shade,  and  fruit.  In  the  Gospels  mention  is 
made  of  mint,  anise,  and  cummin  {Mt  23^)  as  the 
cheap  and  common  garden  produce  that  occupied 
the  laboured  scrupulosity  of  the  scribes  and 
Pliarisee.s,  to  the  neglect  of  more  important 
matters. 

The  fact  of  its  being  artificially  and  continually 
watered,  distinguishes  the  garden  proper  from  the 
ordinary  grain  field,  the  vineyard,  and  the  planta- 
tion of  olive  or  fig  trees.  The  nece.ssity,  however, 
of  having  a  protecting  wall  for  fruit  trees  gives 
also  to  such  an  enclosure  in  a  more  general  sense 
the  name  and  ch.iv.ulci-  nf  a  garden.  These  may 
be  resorted  ti>  and  ]i,i>~ii|  ( hrough  without  objec- 
tion e.xcept  dm  in;4  ^uimum  ]■  and  autumn,  when  the 
fruit  is  ripening;.  SmU  may  have  been  the  garden 
of  Gethsemane,  to  which  Christ  retired  with  His 
disciples  (Jn  18'-  -).  In  the  garden  containing  the 
tomb  in  which  Christ's  body  was  laid,  Mary's 
expectation  of  meeting  with  the  gardener  or  care- 
taker (Jn  20'*)  at  the  time  of  Easter  would  rather 
point  to  the  more  careful  cultivation  of  the  irri- 
gated garden. 

To  the  Oriental  the  gardpn  i«  a  place  of  retire- 
ment and  rest.  Its  sunn. I  ..f  lallinL;'  or  running 
water  is  one  of  the  luxuiir^  ..i  liie.  Its  shade 
affords  escape  from  tin'  -lai.-  ..t  ilif  sun,  and  its 
recognized  privacy  forbids  Llie  introduction  at  the 
close  of  the  day  of  disturbing  news,  exacting 
claims,  or  perplexing  decisions.  The  voice  of 
nature  seems  to  say,  '  I  will  give  you  rest.'  It 
has  thus  become  a  symbol  of  Heaven,  and  supplies 
a  common  term  of  immortal  hope  to  the  three 
great  i^nonotheistic  religions,  inasmuch  as  the 
Christian  '  Paradise '  is  the  equivalent  of  the 
Jewish  Gan-'Eden,  'Garden  of  Eden,'  and  the 
Moslem  il-Gannat,  '  the  Garden.' 

G.  M.  Mackie. 

GARNER See  Barn. 

GATE.— The  gate  of  a  city,  like  the  entrance  to  a 
tent  and  the  door  of  a  house,  was  a  jilace  of  special 
importance,  and  its  original  use  gave  rise  to  various 
a.ssociated  meanings. 

1.  Military  and  protective.  —  As  the  weakest 
place  in  a  walled  city,  it  was  the  chief  point  of 
attack  and  defence.  Its  strenirtli  was  the  strength 
of  tlie  city  ((in  -JJ'',  J-  .V,  I'.  -Jt"  1-37'',  Is  26^  Jer 
14-).  II  liad  a  ].la.'r  ,,f  ,,ull....k  ..\,-r  tlie  entrance, 
from  «hirli  thusi'  a|i].roa.liiu'j  rould  be  seen,  and 
intimatiun  L;i\cn  a~  (..  tlirir  aduiiUance.  Thiswas 
evidently  a  di'x. 'I.. laiHMil  oi  tin;  wattdi  kept  at  the 
door  of  the  shrcjiiolil  (,li,  in' -■).  The  gates  of  the 
city  were  closr,!  at  niuhl,  hence  in  the  vision  of 
the  city  where  there  is  nu  night  thcv  remain  un- 
closed (Rev  21==).  In  the  charge  to'l'eler,  wlieie 
the  gates  of  Hades  are  said  to  Ije  unalile  l.i  |ae\  ail 
against  the  Church  of  Christ,  the  original  meaning 


of  defensive  strength   seems  to  pass  into  that  of 
aggre.siv,.  force  (.Mt  IG"''). 

2.  .hnlirnil  ,nnl  rnuuiurcicd.—lhd  Settlement  of 
niatu'K  alle(  tinu  eimtesled  right,  transfer  of  pro- 
perty and  internal  administration,  were  attended 
to  at  the  open  space  or  covered  recess  behind  the 
gate  (Gn  23'",  Dt  25',  Am  51-).  The  litigant  was 
urged  to  come  to  terms  with  tlie  adversary  '  in  the 
way'  before  the  giite  was  reached,  for  there  the 


judge  sat,  and 
prison,  and  the  uliii 
times  of  industrial  pi 
became  a  liscal  ins 
colk-et<.r.satatthei, 
3.   Fniunilirr  ,ni,l 


r,  the 

(Mt  5=»--«).  In 
ective  challenge 
there   the   tax- 


(Mt 


-/,./„ 


\V1 


gates  or 

lavi.-=hly  ornamented  (l.s  54'-,  Itcv  21-'  ;  Jus.^BJ  V. 
V.  3,  VI.  V.  3),  the  gate  of  brass  was  the  standard 
of  external  protection.  The  larger  and  more  im- 
portant the  city,  the  more  imposing  would  be  its 


nubli 


c-ity,  the 
The  ( »ri 


jIiC 


as  to  the  sti: 

and  the  Em 

City  gates,  a: 

door  from  two 


for  the  Ottoman 

Snl.liiiie  I',, It.'.  Christ's 
liat  ].■.!  .,iily  I.,  darkness 

a..'  capalile  of  accom- 
I  Ian. Is  (Mt  7"-",  Lk 
h  His  iither  statements 
■  between //^i«  Kingdom 
of  the  world. 


I  as  those  at  the  entrance  to  gardens  and  to 
luid  houses,  frequently  have  a  small  inserted 
ree  feet  square  by  which  an  individual  may 
i»e  admitted.  It  has  sometimes  been  thought  that  this  was 
referred  to  when  Christ  spoke  of  a  camel  passing  through  the 
e>e  of  a  needle  (Mt  10-^);  butthere  is  nothing  either  in  the  sense 
of  tlie  ori^dnal  words  or  in  Eastern  custom  to  support  such  a 
supposition.    See  Camel. 

Gates  had  distineuisliini;  names,  in.licating  the 
localities  to  which  ili.'\  lii|iiiej..l  .>i  int.i  which 
they  led  (Gn  28",  N.li';!,  I's  !i'-.  Is  lis",  Mt  16'»), 
or  describin'4  some  eliaia.  1.  risli.'  ..f  (he  .lour  itself 
(Ac3=).  Intl,..|in.,il„-t,.-|.e.|nn.  .,t  Z,..n  r.-st.,r,.,l 
and  comfort.'. I,  I  li.'  i^at.'s  w  .t.'  t.>  1..'  ca  H.-.l  '  I'rai-.',' 
and  those  \^■llicll  .l.iiiii  saw  in  tli.^  N.'w  .lerusalem 
bore  on  their  fronts  the  iianies  ul  the  'twehe 
tribes  of  the  children  of  Israel'  (Rev  21'-). 

For  meanings  connected  more  especially  with  the 
entrance  to  tents  and  houses  see  Door. 

G.  M.  Mackie. 

GEHENNA The  Heb.  name  Hinnom  is  gener- 
ally preceded  in  the  OT  by  the  word  GH-,  '  valley ' 
(Jos  15«f-),  thus  Gc-hinnCm,  or  '  Valley  of  Hiinioni,' 
whence  the  NT  word  7^c;'i'a,  wlii.h  is  Iraiislat.-.l  in 
both  the  AV  and  RV  'hell'  (Mt  :,■-■'  In  •  is-' 
2315.33^  Mk  9«-«--",  Lk  12\  .l.a  :{-'):  ti.im  « lii.h 
.also  we  obtain  the  English  woi.l  ^-/,.„„.,.  Ilis- 
t.n-icallv,  this  vail. .y  is  tli.'  1 1  a.lit  i.  ma  I  sit,'  of  the 
v,,i-hi|',|,ai,lt..  M.,i;'.'h,liist  l.v  A  ha /I  Li  ('11283),  and 
lat.T  hv  Man.ass,.!,  ,:j:j-,,  „h..'ma.le  (h.ar  children 
pass  ihnnejh   ,1,„   h,-..  ;    hut   v,  hah  v  :is  lat.T  defiled 


lal 


XXvii.  1).      The  NT  use  of  yeeyfa 

this  figurative  sense.     Milton  also  employs  it  thus 

in  his  familiar  lines  : 


s  to  have 
llal;  and 
..I  of  the 
•f.  Enoch 
usively  in 


Opinions  differ  as  to  the  identification  of  the 
valley  ;  but  most  authin-ities,  including  Robinson, 
Stanley,  IStihl,  ami  many  others,  as  well  .as  modern 

Arab  tf.a.Iition,  i.h'ntify  it  with  tin-  vail. 'y  on  the 
AV.  an.l  S.  si.le  .,1  di.'  I  i.ilv  I  'il  \',  (  h.-  n|i|i.'l-  ]iortion 
of  Mhi.-h  is  ,all..l  in  Aiahi.-  IT,-./-,  .  ,■- /;,,/„7/„: ;  the 
l.iw.T,  ((■/,,///(;,//.„»,.,«,  or  •  \-all..\  ..I  II. -11.'  It  is 
a  '.l.'.-]i  and  yawninn'  ,L;-..ruv'  (\Vils..ii),  an. I  'never 
.■..nlains  wat.'r  '  iS.i.-in),  its  .l.'s.'i.nt  tV. nu  il  s  original 
source  to  J!ir  K^nnih   being  ai.nfoximal.'ly  G70  ft. 


636     GENEALOGIES  OF  JESUS  CHRIST        GENEALOGIES  OF  JESUS  CHRIST 


At  the  lower  extremity  are  found  numerous  rock- 
tombs,  for  here  seems  to  have  been  the  jiotter's 
field  for  the  burial  of  pilgrims,  which  was  pur- 
chased Avitli  the  '  30  pieces  of  silver,'  and  known  as 
Akeldama,  or  held  of  blood  (Mt  2r^-»,  Ac  l"-'"). 
On  the  other  hand,  the  Arab  writer  Edrisi  of  the 
12th  cent.  A.D.,  followed  by  Sir  C.  "Warren  in  an 
extended  and  somewhat  convincing  article  on 
'  Hinnoni  (Valley  of)'  in  Hastings'  DB,  identifies 
it  with  the  I^idron  on  the  E.  of  Jerusalem,  includ- 
ing also  its  continuation  below  the  junction  of  the 
Eastern  and  Western  valleys  at  Bir  Eyyub  ;  the 
whole  of  the  valley  in  its  descent  toward  the  Dead 
Sea  being  known  to  the  Arabs  as  Wad}/  en-SAr, 
'Valley  of  Fire.'  Still  another  identification  is 
that  advocated  by  Sayce,  R.  Smith,  Birch,  and 
othei-s,  who  locate  it  between  tlie  Temple  area 
and  the  City  of  David,  identifying  it  with  the 
valley  known  since  Jo.sephus'  day  as  the  Tjro- 
pffion ;  but  the  first  identification  is,  on  the  w  hole, 
the  most  probable. 

Literature.— Robinson,  BRP  i.  353,  402  ff. ;  Stanley,  SP 
239,  571 ;  Barclay,  Citii  uf  the  Great  Kinn,  89,  90  :  Wilson,  Re- 
cooery  of  JeriiaaU-nu  ti,  19,  3(17,   LamU  of  ttu:   DibU',  i.  403ff. ; 


and  Aiti:    ■  :irtt. 

'GehenlKi'     .ui.l       ll    .:,   ..      i  \  ...    ,        :,  _        till; 

'Hinnoni   (\il^:    i'l-'    vi    /.'        ■      /;■'',;    ^  .■•  •  '        '       S7. 

Mark,  ad  Vil' :  Riehni,  IIWE.   Itoseiinuiller,   lUhUxh.  i:.',„i.  ii. 
loC,  1G4  ;  Smith's  UB,  art.  'Hinnom  (Valley  of).' 

George  L.  Robinson. 
GENEALOGIES  OF  JESUS  CHRIST.— 1.  There 
is  no  evidence  that  any  special  stress  was  laid 
upon  the  Davidic  descent  of  Jesus,  either  by  Him- 
self or  in  the  preaching  of  the  Apostles.  It  was 
assumed  that  He  was  '  Son  of  David,'  and  the 
title  was  given  to  Him  as  the  Messiah ;  nor  does 
it  appear  that  His  claim  was  ever  seriously  con- 
tested on  the  ground  that  His  Davidic  descent  was 
doubtful.  St.  Paul  in  Ro  P  speaks  of  Christ  as 
'  born  of  the  seed  of  David  according  to  the  flesh,' 
and  in  2  Ti  2*  he  names  this  descent,  along  witli 
the  Resurrection,  as  one  of  the  salient  points  of 
the  gospel  he  preached  :  '  Remember  Jesus  Christ, 
risen  from  the  dead,  of  the  seed  of  David,  accord- 
ing to  my  gospel.'  Similarly  in  his  speech  at  the 
Pisidian  Antiocli,  as  recorded  in  Ac  13^,  he  says : 
'  Of  this  man's  (/.-'.  David's)  seed  hath  God  accord- 
ing to  )ii.iiMi<i'  linni-ht  unto  Israel  a  Saviour, 
Jesus.'  M.  I'.i  r  111  his  speech  on  the  Day  of 
Penteni-i  ,  Ar  J  i  ui  iitionsGod'spromise  to  David, 
'that  ol  tlie  liuit  .if  lii>  loins  he  would  set  one 
uix)n  his  throiif,'  ;uiil  ]i  lint-  to  its  fulfilment  in 
Christ;  but  in  uililn—iiiL:  Cunielius  (1(F)  he 
speaks  of  Christ  ,is  •  .l.-us  m  Nazareth' ;  and  this 
would  seem  to  imj)ly  tliat  tlie  birtli  at  Bethlehem, 
which  brought  into  prominence  the  claim  to 
Davidic  descent,  did  not  form  part  of  his  onlinary 
missionary  preaching.  The  author  of  the  Ejiistle 
to  the  Hebrews  (7")  says  :  '  It  is  evident  that  our 
Loril  hath  .-<|)rung  out  of  Judah.'  In  the  Second 
Gospel  Ijlind  Bartinueus  (Mk  10^"-,  cf.  parallels) 
uses  the  title  '  Son  of  David  '  in  addressing  Christ, 
and  the  crowds  at  the  Triumphal  Entry  irito  Jeru- 
salem (1P»,  cf.  Mt  -Jl^  '  Husanna  to  the  Son  of 
David')  speak  of  the  '  kiiigdniii  that  cometli'  .as  the 
'  kingdom  of  our  fatlicr  David  '  -.  but  in  a  ilittionlt 
passage  (12^-^,  cf.  parallels)  Jer-ii-  .11111,  -  1,,  i.iise 
difficulties  as  to  the  appropriatcm  --  .1  1  h.  .  uriiiit 
application  of  tlie  title  to  the  Mi  - -.ih  .  Unit/- 
mann,  Hdcom."  ad  loc).  In  tlic  .\i.uial\  ]>>i-  the 
Davidic  de.scent  is  apparently  assumed  ( Rev  i-J'")  as 
wellastliebirthfromthetribeof  Judah(5') ;  but  the 
use  of  the  phrase  '  the  root  of  David  '  in  botli  p,as- 
.sages  shows  that  the  essential  and  spiritual  )iriority 
to' David  was  ninre  pmiiiincnt  in  the  writer's  iiund 
than  the  phvsiial  .Irsimt  frinii  liiiu.  The  eviilencc 
to  he  derived  Inmi  the  I'uurth  ( Josi,..!  is  of  a  iloiil.l. 


of  Jewish  thought  according  to  which  the  Messiah 
■would  appear  suddenly  and  his  origin  would  be 
secret :  the  answer  of  Jesus  implies  that  the  people 
did  indeed  know  His  human,  but  not  His  spiritual, 
origin.  It  is  clear  from  V"-  *-  that  He  was  re- 
garded by  both  the  crowd  and  the  rulers  at  Jeru- 
salem as  being  of  Galilean,  and  therefore  presum- 
ably not  Davidic,  parentage  ;  it  is  by  no  means 
certain,  and  to  many  it  may  seem  in  no  way  prob- 
able, that  tlie  writer,  in  the  interest  of  a  '  tragic 
irony'  (see  Westcott,  Speaker's  C'oiiiincntart/  on 
7''-),  refrained  from  noting  the  fact  of  the  birtli 
at  Bethlehem,  and  the  Davidic  lineage  of  Joseph 
or  Mary.  Jesus'  words  in  7^'*  show  clearly  that 
He  did  not  choose  to  support  His  claim  by  an 
ajjpeal  to  fleshly  parentage ;  while  the  ■words  of 
Philip  (1^  '  We  have  found  him,  of  ■whom  Moses 
in  the  law,  and  the  prophets,  did  write,  Jesus  of 
Nazareth,  the  son  of  Joseph '),  and  of  the  crowd 
at  Capernaum  {Q-"  '  Is  not  this  Jesus,  the  son  of 
Joseph,  whose  father  and  mother  ■we  know  ? '), 
left,  as  they  are,  without  comment  by  the  Evan- 
gelist, suggest  that  he  ■was  unacquainted  with  tlie 
story  of  the  birth  at  Bethlehem,  and  laid  no  stress 
on  the  Davidic  descent. 

In  all  the  books  thus  far  mentioned  no  intima- 
tion is  given  whether  the  descent  of  Jesus  is  traceil 
through  Mary  or  Joseph  :  this  fact  must  be  recog- 
nized, however  it  is  explained.  In  the  Catholic 
Epistles  tliere  is  no  reference,  direct  or  indirect,  to 
the  tribe  or  family  of  the  Lord.  The  First  and 
Third  Gospels,  which  (at  all  events  in  their  present 
form)  teach  the  doctrine  of  the  birth  from  a  virgin, 
also  contain  formal  pedigrees  of  Joseph,  with  the 
evident  intention  of  proving  that  Jesus  was  the 
heir  of  David.  In  this  lies  the  most  imixirtant 
problem  which  the  genealogies  of  Jesus  present 
for  solution. 

2.  The  general  facts  in  regard  to  the  divergences 
of  the  two  pedigi'ees  of  Joseph  are  well  known. 
St.  Matthew  (1'-'"")  begins  with  Abraham,  and 
traces  the  line  in  fourteen  generations  to  David  ; 
then  through  Solomon  in  fourteen  generations  to 
Jechoniah  at  the  time  of  the  carrying  away  to  Baby- 
lon :  then  in  fourteen  (or  thirteen  according  to  our 
present  text)  generations  through  Shealtiel  antl 
Zerubbabel  to  Matthan,  Jacob,  Joseph,  and  Jesus. 
Thus  he  brings  the  Messiah  into  relation  with  all 
who,  whether  in  a  literal  or  a  spiritual  sense,  could 
call  Abraham  their  Father. 

St.  Luke  (3^"**)  makes  Joseph  the  son  of  Heli, 
and  grandson  of  Matthat  (bj'  some  identified  with- 
out any  proof  with  Matthan  of  Mt  1''),  and  traces 
his  descent  through  Zerubbabel  and  Shealtiel  to 
Nathan  the  son  of  David  ;  then  (with  only  slight 
or  textually  doubtful  divergences  from  Mt.)  back 
to  Abraham ;  but,  not  stopping  there,  he  carries 
the  pedigree  back  to  '  Adam  the  son  of  God,'  thus 

Mil  into  relation  with   all 

i.ated.  A  more  detailed 
1  1  haracteristics  of  the  two 
le  fundamental  differences 
tnieiit  that  exi.st  between 
1  extracting  whatever  may 
.iltempts  that  have  been 


id  ti- 


I 


bringing 
men   whom   (Ii 
examination  of 
genealogies  will 
of  conception  a 
them,  and  preji: 
V)e  of  value   fn 
made  to  hanim 
3.  St.   M.fi/' 
translated  in  1 
(j3i/3Xo!  7fWu-< .. , 
the  son  of  Abial 
tive  rendering 


■'I'f.  —  The  heading  is 
I  :  1  louk  of  the  generation 
:  I  :iiist,  the  son  of  David, 
lu  the  margin  the  alterna- 
cn  '  the  genealogy  of  Jesus 
Clirist.'  If,  sis  seems  probable,  the  latter  render- 
ing is  right,  this  heading  will  refer  only  to  the 
pedigree  which  follows  ;  tlie  phrase  /3t'/3\os  yevdffeiiJ! 
is  most  likely  taken  from  (in  5'  (aiTi;  i]  ^I'/SXot 
yfv^fffios  dvDpJjtrwi' :  cf.  G'-*  aurat  S^  at  ycvetrei^  NtSf, 
and  lOM,  where  it  introiluces  a  list  of  Ad.am's  de- 
sceiidaiits,  and  tliils  praetieallv  forms  the  title  uf 


GENEALOGIES  OF  JESUS  CHRIST       GENEALOGIES  OP  JESUS  CHRIST     637 


Elnlclt 

unq  In  d.  NT"-, 

i(l,..u( 

jiil    11 

a(..ataiileof 
.■«l„.l,.  book; 
v.i.rliii-   the 

Illy  11 
fullillc 

.f  II..'  I.irtli,  or 
s  III.'  title  of 
.■  iiil.iition  of 
as  II. .J  heir  of 
il  the  jtromises 

itself 

is  intended  to 

a  genealogical  taljle.     Zahn  {Et 

ii.  pp.  270  f.  and  200)  argues  will 

that  the  phrase  could  not  1" 

ancestors,  and  takes  it  as  a  ti 

he  is,  however,  no  doubt  r 

view  that  it  refers  to  the  nai 

of  the  birtli  and  infancy.     'J 

the  pedigi-ee,  it  indicates  oh 

the  writer — to  show  that  in 

David  and  of  Abraham,  were 

made  to  them :  the  pedigree 

illustrate  this,  rather  than  to  prove  it,  and  it  is 

not  easy  to  avoid  the  conclusion  that  it  is  rpiite 

artificial,  as  is  indeed  implied  by  the  more  or  less 

arljitrary  division  into  3  sections  containing  twice 

seven  names  apiece. 

Confining  our  attention  for  the  moment  to  the 
direct  male  line,  we  note  that  in  the  first  section  the 
names  are  taken  from  1  Ch  2'-'\  and  that  if  Salmon 
was  the  younger  contemporary  of  Joshua  (as  is 
implied  by  his  marriage  with  Kahab),  there  are 
only  four  generations  to  cover  the  300  or  400  years 
between  that  time  and  David's  reign.  In  the 
second  section  the  names  are  from  1  Ch  3'"'",  but 
Joash,  Amaziah,  and  Azariah  are  omitted  be- 
fore Jotham,  and  .Jehoiakim  before  Jechoniah 
(=Jehoiachin).  In  the  third  section  only  Sheal- 
tiel  and  Zerubbabel  are  mentioned  in  the  OT  [the 
latter  in  1  Ch  3'*  is  called  son  of  Pedaiah,  the 
brother  of  Shealtiel,  but  in  Hag  1'  and  numerous 
other  passages,  he  is  called  son  of  Shealtiel,  or 
Shaltiel,  but  without  any  intimation  that  he  was 
of  Davidic  descent ;  it  is  often  assumed  that  Sheal- 
tiel adopted  his  nephew].  We  have  no  hint  as  to 
the  source  from  whence  the  remaining  names  were 
drawn.  For  about  460  years,  from  David  to  the 
Captivity,  we  have  14  names,  and  know  there 
should  be  18  ;  for  about  590  years,  from  the  Cap- 
tivity to  Christ,  we  have,  against  all  reasonable 
probability,  only  13  (perhaps  originally  14)  names. 

We  now  turn  to  the  notes  inserte.l  at  ditlerent 
points  in  the  pedigree.  A  very  small  point  may 
perhaps  guide  us  to  a  true  conclusion  in  regard  to 
these.  Holtzraann  {op.  cit.  on  Mt  l")  points  out  that 
the  articles  before  Aaveid  rhv  ^aaCKia.  in  v.'',  and  be- 
fore 'Iwff?;^  rhv  dvSpa  Maplas  in  v.'^,  are  incorrect : 
it  seems  probable  that  the  compiler  of  the  Gospel 
had  a  pedigree  before  him  in  which  each  step  was 
given  in  the  simple  form  '  Abraham  begat  Isaac  ' 
{'A^paa/j,  iyivvq(rev  rbv  'IcraaK),  and  that  he  added 
notes  to  tills  at  certain  points  :  in  vv.^  and  "^  he 
did  not  notice  that  the  use  of  the  article  became 
incorrect  when  the  notes  were  added.  This  original 
document  may  or  may  not  have  ended  '  Joseph 
begat  Jesus  '  (  lu{rr](p  5k  i'^ivv-qff^v  rhv  ^Xriaovv)  ;  it  is 
perhaps  the  easiest  solution  of  the  difficulties  of 
this  verse  to  snp]iose  that,  if  it  did  so  end,  the 
compiler  omitteil  the  last  step,  as  in  conflict 
with  his  belief  in  the  Virgin-birth,  and  added  a 
note  to  the  previous  step  to  explain  the  relation  in 
which  Jesus  stood  to  Joseph.  If  in  Westcott  and 
Hort's  edition  of  the  NT  the  notes  be  struck  out, 
it  will  be  seen  that  a  perfectly  symmetrical  pedi- 
gree of  Josejih  is  left. 

Mr.  F.  C.  Burkitt,  in  a  very  important  note  on 
vv.'""-^  (EvanricUnn  dri.  -  Mcjyharrcshc,  Cambridge, 
1904,  vol.  ii.  pp.  258-266),  argues  with  great  force 
that  the  genealogy  is  an  integral  part  of  St. 
Matthew's  Gospel,  and  that  the  compiler  himself 
drew  it  up  ;  but  really  his  arguments  amily  only  to 
the  notes  inserted  in  the  gencaloiry.  He  discusses 
fully  the  reading  in  v.^",  aii.l  r..i..lii.lis  that  we 
cannot  look  on  the  reading  i.f  ll..  Sii.aitic  Syriac 
('Jacob  begat  Joseph  ;  Jose].li,  I"  wli.nii  was  be- 
trothed Mary  the  Virgin,  begat  Jesus,  who  is 
called  the  Christ ')  as  containing  traces  of  an 
original  text.  Znhn -(op.  cit.  ii.  p.  292  f.)  thinks 
that  the  Curetonian  Syriac  ('  Jacob  begat  Joseph, 


to  whom  was  betrothed  Mary  the  Virgin,  who 
bore  Jesus  Christ')  represents  the  Greek  from 
which  the  Syriac  version  was  made  more  closely 
than  does  the  Sinaitic.  If,  therefore,  the  compiler 
followed  a  pedigree  ready  to  hand,  he  did  so  only 
as  far  as  the  step  '  Jacob  begat  Joseph '  ;  and 
textual  criticism  will  not  help  us  to  reconstruct 
the  presumed  original  document  beyond  tliat  point. 
In  the  usual  text  stress  is  laid  on  Joseph  being  tlie 
husband  of  Mary,  probably  to  show  that,  as  he 
recognized  his  wife's  son  as  in  a  Icqal  sense  his 
own,  Jesus  was  legally  the  heir  of  David.  In  the 
reading  that  probably  underlies  the  Ferrar  group 
of  MSS  ('Jacob  begat  Joseph,  to  whom  being  be- 
trothed the  Virgin  Mary  begat  Jesus  that  is  called 
Christ '),  and  also  the  Old  Latin  .and  Syriac  ver- 
sions, this  point  is  missed,  and  there  is  little  doubt 
that  the  Received  Text  is  right. 

Added  to  vv."  and  "  arc  notes  which  mark  im- 
portant turning-points  in  the  history  of  the  family: 
with  David  it  att.ained  to  royal  standing,  which  it 
lost  under  Jechoniah  at  the  Captivity.  In  v.'-  the 
addition  of  '  and  his  brethren  '  to  the  name  Judah 
marks  the  beginning  of  the  tribe,  in  that  .Judah  is 
chosen  from  among  Ids  brethren  as  founder  of  the 
royal  tribe.  The  addition  of  Zerali  to  Perez  in  v.^ 
marks  the  division  of  the  tribe,  and  it  is  interesting 
to  notice  that  we  find  an  allusion  to  the  bouse  of 
Perez  in  Ru  4'-;  perhaps,  tno,  tl..'  lompiler  may 
have  had  in  mind  the  stvaii;^.'  >i..iy  ..t  Cn  38-*"'-, 
around  which  some  Rabbinic  l..i.>  ......n-  have  clus- 
tered. The  addition  of  'an. I  l.i- bivl  Ineii '  to  the 
name  Jechoniah  is  more  puzzling.  Zahn  (op.  cit. 
p.  273)  thinks  it  is  meant  to  mark  the  fact  that 
till  then  the  fortunes  of  the  Davidic  house  centred 
in  the  reigning  monarch,  whow.as  heir  of  all  the  pro- 
mises, but  that  from  that  time  onward  a  number 
of  Davidic  families  existed,  any  one  of  which  might 
be  destined  to  receive  the  inheritance.  Thus  it 
would  mark  the  change  from  the  reigning  family 
of  the  second  section  ton  family  of  royal  .Ii-.i-i.l  in 

the  third  section.     But  it  is  not  cleai'  fi tl..'  ( il' 

that  Jechoniah  (  =  Jehoiachin)  hail  any  lncill.ns, 
for  the  text  of  1  Ch  3"*  seems  sus].iri..u^.  A.  .nnl- 
ing  to  2  Ch  36i°  his  successor  Znlekiali  was  his 
brother,  according  to  2  K  24"  his  fat  In  is  l.n.lliri. 
Possibly  there  has  been  some  ciniliisii.ii  w.ih 
Jehohatim,  wlio  had  three  brothers  (iiieludiiig  a 
Zedekiah)  according  to  1  Ch  3'^  ;  more  probably 
the  compiler  has  added  the  note,  for  the  ]iur]iose 
indicated  by  Zahn,  without  regard  for  strict  genea- 
logical data. 

The  four  notes  not  yet  referred  to  are  of  special 
interest,  naming  four  of  the  ancestresses  of  Solo- 
mon. The  selection  of  these  names  was  evidently 
made  witli  a  purjiuse  ;  il  srni.s  as  if  the  compiler 

wished  to  show  that  in  (In-  |.eili-i I  (lie  greatest 

of  Jewish  kings  c.ul.l   I.,,  fi.ini.l   iiiMaii.es   of   the 

breach  of  laws  usually   rm.si.liri.l    st    binding. 

Tamar  became  a  mother  tliru.ijl.  i...  .stmius  inter- 
course with  her  father-in-law  ;  I,',.l.:il.  wns  a  har- 
lot ;  Ruth  was  a  Moabitess.  an. I  a.-,  .n, ling  to  the 
Deuteronomic  law  (Dt  23^,  ef.  Neli  i:!')  no  Moabite 
was  ever  to  enter  into  the  congregation  ;  Batli- 
sheba  was  an  adulteress.  Some  have  thought  that 
these  references  to  acknowledged  breaches  of  mo- 
rality in  the  pedigree  of  David's  first  great  son 
form  some  kind  of  answer  to  the  charges  of  immo- 
rality brought  by  the  .lews  against  the  Virgin :  the 
argument  would  be  tliat,  if  they  did  not  reject 
Solomon  in  spite  of  aciknowledged  moral  blots  in 
his  ancestry,  they  ought  not  to  reject  Jesus  be- 
cause of  unfounded  scandal.  But  this  explanation 
is  obviously  unsatisfactory ;  there  is  no  real  force 
in  such  an  argument,  even  supposing  it  to  be 
worked  out  and  not  merely  vaguely  indicated  ; 
and  all  must  feel  that  the  compiler  would  have 
shrunk   from   drawing    a    parallel    between    the 


638     GEN^EALOGIES  OF  JESUS  CHEIST     "  GENEALOGIES  OF  JESUS  CHRIST 


Mother  of  Jesus  and  notoriously  sinful  women  ; 
also  tlie  reference  to  Kutli  remains  unexplained, 
as  she  was  guilty  of  no  immorality.  Burkitt  (op. 
cit.  vol.  ii.  p.  260)  suggests  a  ditierent  explanation, 
that  these  four  w-omen  are  thrust  upon  our  notice 
'  as  if  to  prep9,re  us  for  still  greater  irregularity  in 
the  last  stage.'  But  again  a  comparison  between 
the  Virgin-birth  and  incestuous  or  adulterous  in- 
tercourse can  hardly  have  been  possible  for  the 
compiler. 

The  simplest  explanation  is  probably  the  right 
one  :  the  God  about  whom  Jesus  taught  had  shown 
Himself  ready,  in  the  history  of  the  royal  family, 
to  accept  strangers  and  sinners.  In  the  case  of 
Ruth  this  is  fully  satisfactory ;  and  the  conduct  of 
the  other  three  women  is  represented  in  Scripture 
as  justified  or  pardoned.  Judah  was  obliged  to 
say  of  Taniar,  '  She  is  more  righteous  than  I '  (Gn 
38-*) ;  the  remembrance  of  Rahab's  former  life  was 
blotted  out  by  her  subsequent  faith  (Ja  2^,  He 
11^');  there  is  no  intimation  in  Scripture  that 
Bathsheba  was  morally  responsible  for  the  sin  into 
which  she  was  forced  by  a  powerful  king,  and  cer- 
tainly the  birth  of  Solomon  is  not  reiiresented  as 
in  any  way  displeasing  to  God,  but  rather  the 
contrary  (see  2  S  12^,  where  Nathan  named  the 
child  '  Jedidiah  ['Beloved  of  Jab']  for  the  Lord's 
sake';  cf.  the  proijhecy  of  7"'-).  Probably  the 
thought  uppermost  in  the  mind  of  the  compiler 
would  be  God's  acceptance  of  these  women,  and 
not  their  sin. 

In  regard  to  Rahab,  there  is  no  evidence  for  her 
marriage  with  Salmon,  nor  is  anything  known 
that  would  be  likely  to  have  suggested  the  idea : 
it  would  seem  that  the  compiler  was  determined 
to  introduce  the  name,  and  tlierefore,  without  evi- 
dence and  against  all  chronological  probability, 
made  her  the  wife  of  the  father  of  Boaz. 

This  examination  compels  us  to  conclude  that 
the  genealogy  is  essentially  and  intentionally  arti- 
ficial; the  word  'begat'  {iyin-qaev)  is  not  intended 
necessarily  to  imply  physical  birtli,  but  merely 
marks  the  descent ;  the  compiler  was  more  in- 
terested in  the  throne-succession  than  the  actual 
lineage,  and  used  his  material  to  illustrate  and 
enforce  his  main  proposition  that  Jesus  Christ  was 
the  son  of  David  and  of  Abraliam,  and  he  joined 
to  the  bare  pedigree  a  sort  of  running  commentary 
of  notes. 

Cortpy  V,mf  in  I.k  3  sives  a  pedigree  in  the  Lukan  form,  but 
tin-  iKiints  from  JosL-pIi  to  liavid  are  taken  from  Mt.;  the  names 
.1.'  .  ,i  III  mi  i;  Mill  irr  inserted  between  Jechoniah  and 
,1  ,11'  M  two  different  persona,  instead  of 

I  ,       I,  ,  -  nil.-  man  ;  and  also  Amazlah,  Joash, 

ani    Ml       ,, '        ill  and  Joram  (see  Resch,  TIT  x,  5, 

1.11.  1;J  _"1,  .dilL.r-Lli- ill  >A-,  1898,  1). 

i.  at.  Luke's  genealogy.— The  descent  of  Joseph 
is  traced  through  Nathan  the  son  of  David.  It  is 
possible  that  the  family  is  referred  to  in  Zee  12'-, 
where  'the  family  of  the  house  of  Nathan'  is 
distinguished  from  'the  family  of  the  house  of 
David,'  the  latter  phrase  perhaps  meaning  the 
royal  line.  The  rejection  of  the  descent  through 
Jechoniah  may  have  been  due  to  the  influence  of 
the  prophecy  of  Jeremiah  (22™):  'Thus  saith  tlie 
Lord,  Write  ye  this  man  childless,  a  man  that 
shall  not  prosper  in  his  days :  for  no  man  of  his 
seed  shall  prosper,  sitting  upon  the  throne  of  David, 
and  ruling  any  more  in  Judah '  ;  but  there  is  no 
apparent  reason  why  the  line  of  Nathan  should  be 
selected,  unless  St.  Luke  had  evidiTicc  of  the  frut 

before  him;  and,  in  the  case  ot  ,t   \    i     i    mi 

evidently  based  his  work  upon  tin  n- 

ful  research, it  is  only  fair,  and  til  lii-, 

to  assume  tliat  he  had  such  eviilLiicj.  IUl  a-iri'- 
ment  with  St.  Matthew's  genealogy  in  the  nanie.s 
Zerubbabel  and  Shealtiel  has  not  been  satisfac 
torily  explained  ;  it  is,  of  course,  open  to  any  one  to 
assume,  without  the  possibility  of  either  proof  or 


refutation,  that  Jechoniah  was  actually  childless, 
and  adopted  Shealtiel,  a  descendant  of  Nathan  ; 
but  even  so  the  further  divergence  in  the  descent 
from  Zerubbabel  remains  as  difficult  as  ever,  for 
tlie  pedigrees  disagree  with  each  other,  and  with 
the  names  given  in  1  Ch  3''"'-.  The  number  of 
derivatives  of  the  name  Nathan,  and  the  repetition 
of  the  names  Melchi,  Joseph,  and  Jesus  in  the 
Lukan  pedigree,  can  be  taken  equally  well  to  prove 
its  genuineness  or  the  ingenuity  of  its  compiler, 
.^part  from  small  variations  of  little  interest,  there 
is  nothing  to  notice  in  the  names  from  David  to 
Adam,  except  the  insertion  in  v.**  of  a  second 
Canaan  in  agreement  with  the  LXX  of  Gn  KF*. 

5.  Historical  value  of  the  two  genealogies. — 
From  what  has  been  said  above,  it  appears  that  St. 
Matthew  (or  the  compiler  of  the  First  Gospel  in  its 
present  form)  did  not  aim  at  historical  accuracy ; 
but  from  what  we  know  of  St.  Luke's  methods  it 
may  be  assumed  that  he  would  not  have  inserted 
matter  in  his  Gospel  unless  he  had  had  satisfactory 
evidence  of  its  genuineness  and  historical  accuracy, 
and  we  have  seen  that  the  character  of  the  list  of 
names  he  gives,  from  Da^'id  to  Joseph,  agrees  well 
with  this  view.  Attempts  to  harmonize  the  two 
genealogies  have  not  been  successful,  and  it  is  only 
necessary  to  indicate  the  general  lines  they  have 
followed,  and  to  collect  such  pieces  of  evidence  as 
may  throw  light  on  the  possible  transmission  of 
the  pedigree. 

The  question  was  first  discussed  by  Julius  Afri- 
canus,  who  flourished  early  in  the  3rd  cent,  after 
Christ,  in  a  letter  addressed  to  an  unknown  corre- 
spondent Aristides,  of  which  a  considerable  portion 
has  been  preserved  by  Euseb.  HE  i.  7  (cf.  Bouth, 
Reliq.  Saera:,  vol.  ii.  p.  228  ff.).  In  his  text  of  St. 
Luke  the  names  Matthat  and  Lei-i  were  evidentlj' 
left  out,  so  that  he  regarded  IMelchi  as  grandfather 
of  .Joseph.  He  supposed  that  Matthan,  a  descendant 
of  Solomon,  married  a  woman  named,  according  to 
tradition,  Estha,  by  Avhom  he  had  a  son  Jacob. 
On  JIatthan's  death,  ^lelchi,  a  descendant  of 
Nathan,  married  liis  widow,  who  bore  him  a  son 
Heli.  Heli  dii-d  withuut  cliildren,  and  Jacob,  in 
accordance  witli  tin-  l(\ii;\tr  law,  raised  up  seed  to 
his  brother,  anil  li-at  -liKiiili.  Thus  Joseph  was 
physically  son  .il  .la,-,,),,  l.-ually  of  Heli.  The  ditti- 
culties  of  till-  tlu'orv  :iiv  Millirii'iillv  di-ciissi.d  by 
Dr.  B.  W.  r.ac.in  in  lln-i  iirj-'  I'll.-.i'u.  •  ( ;,.„raloi;v 

of   Jesus  Chri-t.-      Tin'    Muir.u.    i l,li.:ili..ns   „f 

this  theory  thut  lKi\e  Ijuuii  proiin^ud  (i-uo,  e.g., 
Farrar's  St.  Luke  in  the  Cambridge  Bible  for 
Schools,  rrccursus  II.)  in  no  way  increase  its  prob- 
ability, and  practically  no  evidence  can  be  adduced 
in  support  of  it.  Eusebius  does  indeed  speak  of  a 
narrative  (itrropia)  which  Africanus  had  received 
by  tradition  (HE  i.  7  ;  cf.  vi.  31) ;  Africanus,  how- 
ever, does  not  assert  this  in  the  fragments  pre- 
served, and  himself  admits  that  the  conjecture 
is  imsupported  by  evidence  (el  koX  m')  ifi.tiApTi>pb% 
icTi),  but  claims  that  it  is  worthy  of  acceptance 
till  a  better  or  truer  one  is  proposed. 

Africanus  does,  however,  mention  people  called 
'  Desposyni '  on  account  of  their  kinship  with  the 
Saviour,  and  applies  to  them  the  epithet  '  the 
l>efore-mentioned,'  so  that  in  those  parts  of  the 
letter  that  are  now  lost  he  may  have  specified  more 
exactly  liow  far  his  conjecture  rested  on  evidence 
traditionally  derived  from  them.  After  giving  a 
very  improbable  story  about  the  destruction  of  the 
public  genealogical  records  of  the  Jews  by  Herod 
Antipas,  he  .says  that  many  peo)>le  reconstructed 
their  genealogies  from  memory  or  private  sources, 
among  whom  were  the  Desposyni  of  Nazareth  and 
Cochaba ;  probably,  therefore,  lie  derived  from  them 
the  information  that  Josepli's  grandmother  was 
called  Estha.  The  main  interest  of  this  state- 
ment is  that,  in  spite  of  its  being  somewhat  dis- 


GENEALOGIES  OF  JESUS  CHRIST 


GENERATION 


639 


ed  )ij'  its  context,  it  suggests  a  source  from 
St.  I.nkc  iniL'lit  pnssil)ly  have  obtained  the 
•(■('  he  L:nis;   wr   iiiny  well  suppose  that  he 

■.I  lii>  iiiM-ii^,ii  loll-, 'ill  Palestine  during  St. 


.  HE  iii.  19,  20,  and 
d.  i.  p.  212tr.)sup- 
lus  in  reference  to 
111  is  not  found  in 


li.irls  tl,..  Mal.ii.M.I  ,.,  Al 
tiK.  Desposyni,  tliu„:J,  I  In. 
tlie  Iragments  ot  his  w  i  n  injs  tli:i(  an'  |iif^crved  : 
lie  states  that  when  Uuinii  im  's^m-  imlris  d.  kill 
tliose  who  were  of  ]).i\idV  i.i.r,  riiijin  licictii-s 
gave  information  again^l  t«ii  ^mimKchi-- of  .liulas 
the  Lord's  brother  at-ccirdiiiL;  to  i  hr  llr-li.  a-  licing 
of  David's  race  and  akin  to  Clin  i  ;  lionniiaii,  on 
iinding  out  that  they  were  ordinary  ]iia-aiits,  and 
that  the  kingdom  ll'iey  exprcdil  wa--  imi  o|  (his 
world,  released  tliem,  and  issmd  an  iilicl  stopiiing 
the  persecution  of  the  ('Imicli:  liny  look  leading 
positions  in  the  Churuh,  ami  li\ri|  till  the  time  of 
Trajan.  He  also  relates  that  a  similar  accusation 
was  brought  against  Symeon  son  of  Clopas,  '  the 
Lord's  uncle,' who,  in  consequence,  suflered  martyr- 
dom at  the  age  of  one  hundred  and  twenty.  It 
would  appear,  therefore,  that  nothing  was  known 
of  any  who  claimed  kinship  with  .Jesus  after  the 
time  of  Trajan,  so  that  the  statement  of  Africanus 
probably  rests,  at  the  best,  on  mere  tradition,  and 
it  is  not  wise  to  Imild  much  on  it.  Tlie  statement 
of  Africanus  alioul  (lie  destruction  of  genealogical 
records  liy  llnd.l  i,  most  improbable,  and  tends  to 
discredit  his  wliolc  story  ;  .Josephus  (f.  Ajy.  i.  7  and 
Vita,  \)  speaks  of  the  preservation  of  the  genea- 
logies of  priestly  families  in  public  records  in  the 
Temple,  but  there  is  no  certain  evidence  that  those 
of  other  families  were  similarly  preserved. 

The  expedient  of  supposing  levirate  marriages 
and  adoptions  is  not  only  improbable,  but  fails  to 
explain  why  the  descent  of  Jesus  is  traced  through 
Joseph.  Burkitt  (I.e.)  is  probalily  quite  justified  in 
saying  that  the  compiler  of  the  First  Gospel  was 
perfectly  aware  that  the  word  'begat'  (iyivrqani') 
was  not  literally  true  in  the  pedigree  he  gixcs, 
and  that  he  would  Iiave  folt  no  incoMCTuitv  be- 
tween the  physiral  ivaliiy  .it  (lir  \'ivjiii-l.ir(  I'l  and 
the  legal  dcsn.iil  fidm  l>a\iil  (Ihohl'Ii  -IosciiIi. 
But  this  reasoning  can  hardly  \«-  a|i|.lird  to  (he 
Third  Gospel  ;  the  \'iigiii-liirtli  is  certainly  not  in- 
sisted on  in  it  in  the  same  way  as  in  the  First ;  the 
phrase  'thy  father  and  I'  in  i^"  (cf.  2^"-^')  seems 
almost  incomi)atible  with  the  belief,  and  there  is 
some  reason  for  thinkinLi,  on  trxtnal  L'loiinds,  that 
the  original  text  has  in  |ila.-.--  Iicin  aliri-.,!  :  ii 
words  'as  was  supposed'  mi-lii  ra-ih  lia'c  1..  >  : 
inserted  in  3=3,  although  the  varial  ions  ol  ivailin- 
aflbrd  little  or  no  evidence  in  favour  of  this  suji- 
position  ;  above  all,  there  is  no  reason  to  suppose 
that  the  writer  had,  or  was  likely  to  have,  in  mind 
the  legal  relation  to  Jesus  in  which  Joseph,  as 
husband  of  Mary,  might  be  considered  to  stand. 
If,  therefore,  the  suggesl ion  liisl  maile  by  Annius 
of  Viterbo  in  the  Ifith  cent.,  aid  -ince  adopted 
by  many  eminent  theoloi;ians,  (bat  St.  Luke  gives 
the  genealogy  of  Mary,  could  be  accepted,  it  would 
have  important  results.  It  is  a  matter  on  which 
argument  is  hardly  possible,  the  only  point  being 
whether  any  unprejudiced  jierson  could  understand 
tlie  words  in  3-'  to  mean  '  lieiiv.;-  (as  was  supposed, 
son  of  Josepli,  but  really)  grandson  of  lleli  — Heli 
being  taken,  withuut  a  'shred  of  eviileuce,  to  have 
been  the  father  of  M.ary.  A  ]..as.sage  has,  imleed, 
been  quoted  from  the  Talmud  (Jerus.  Chag.  17b) 
to  prove  that  Mary  was  called  '  daughter  of  Eli' ; 
but  this  has  been  shown  to  be  a  mistake  by  G.  A. 
Cooke,  Expos.,  Oct.  1895,  pp.  316  ff.  In  the  Prot- 
evangeliuni  Jacobi  her  parents  are  called  Joachim 
and  Anna.  The  early  Fathers  generally  assumed 
that  Mary  was  of  the  same  family  as  Joseph,  and 


that  her  descent  was  involved  in  his  ;  see,  for  in- 
stance, Euseb.  HE  i.  7  nd  Jin.  and  Qu.  ad  Steph. 
iii.  2  (Migne,  iv.  col.  881  f.),  where  reasons  are  .sug- 
gesteil  why  jiary's  genealogy  was  not  given  ;  this 
\'iew  is  based  on  a  mistaken  interpretation  of  Nu 
30^  as  if  all  women  were  commaudcd  to  marry  in 
their  own  families,  wlnava-  lie-  le.jniatioii  applied 
only  to  heires-e-.  I'luof  oi  the  I  ia\  alic  desc-ent  of 
Mary  can  be  ohiained  from  IheN'i'.mh'  li\- assum- 
ing (he  (rut  ii  of  III,,  doclvii f  the  \n'_iii-liirth; 

it  was  HO  doubt  on  Ihi-  -round  iliat  .lii-lin  Martyr 
(ApnI.  i.  :iL">)  inferied  1 1, at  .Matv  was  of  (lie  tribe 
of  Judah  (cf.  I'mi.r.  .I.iml.i,   III,  where  she  is  said 

to  be  of  the   nil I    llavnli.      SI.    Manhew  (P») 

and  St.  Luke  il-'  L'a  a--eii  ihe  H.avidie  descent  of 
Joseph,  but  iiol  ih.il  ol  Mai\-:  I'oiilrasI  Lk  P, 
where  Elisaheih  i-  -.nd  lo  l.e  of  (he  dam^liter.s  of 
Aaron.  Sandav  Ibadlain  on  l!o  b'  point  out  tliat 
in  rrxt.  XJI  l'(tl,i:,r,li.  we  find  the  theory  of  a 
doulile  descent  from  L.^vi  and  from  Judah  (%»!..  7 
and  G((d  8),  aiul  they  remark  that  this  is  no  doubt 
an  inference  from  the  relationship  of  Mary  to 
Elisabeth  (Lk  l'«). 

We  must  conclude,  therefore,  that  we  have  two 
independent  attempts  to  establish  the  Davidic 
descent  of  Joseph,  and  that  they  can  be  harmonized 
only  by  suppositions  which  are  incapable  of  proof 
and  hardly  probable. 


GENERATION.— A  word  of  several  meanings 
employed  to  render  two  dillenait  words  in  OT  and 
four  in  NT.  All  are,  llo^^e^el.  related  ill  tli(mght, 
and  all  have  a  close  connexion  with  the  Gospels 
and  Jewish  thoirght  in  the  time  of  Christ. 

1.  In  OT  '  generation '  is  used  to  render  (1)  tlie  Heli.  nil  or 
^1.  ni,  connected  with  Assyr.  darii,  'to  endure,"  means 
primarily  a,  period  of  time.  This  meaning  has  survived  in  OT 
chiefly  in  iinPtrv.  and  in  the  lOirasesml  1^  Ps  4518  61',  T^  11^ 
K\  :.i  "■•^-  --  I-  1  '  1'-  7  iiid  such  like,  to  indicate  time 
sliii.i  !,       ;        ]      I  il-  .'.!"),  or  (more  generally)  into 

till' !;;■    :    ';  I'  ii  n    .  refer  both  to  past  and  future 

Oil  "  lii     1    1  defined  by  the  life 

of  :i  II    •,...,,    I  ,i.  ;:    ;.i,.i.  ,     '  ,      i ,       .    ] ,y  a  loose  usage  it 

<•>      '  i  i •    i"ii.«l(Gn  71,Ex  16, 

I't  ::'  ■,  t.i    I  .,  I-   .  .    .  1   .  M  ■.  ;  .  I    III-    I I.  Ill  use  of  the  word 

'  iigu  ■;.  .s.,  ,a  u  a  lua;,  Ik  u.^cvl  ei  .i  tin....  ei  men  living  contem- 
liorancoiisly  anil  iiosscssiiig  certain  characteristics  (Dt  325, 
Pr  80"- 12. 13.  IJ). 

(2)  The  other  word  in  OT  (rendered  always  plural  'genera- 
tion.s')  is  nn^in.     Here   the   root-idea  is  'birth,'  'descent,' 

ili-|iniij.'  from  1^'  'to  bring  forth.'  Hence  it  is  used  of 
li:ii  51  69  101  1110.  m,  Ru  418  etc.),  of  divisions  bv 
,    ( X„  120. 22. 24  etc.).    It  is  even  used  of  the  crcatioti 

I  III   .1.11  Id  (Gn  24  lit.  'the  begettings  of  the  heaven  and  the 

2.  Of  the  four  words  rendered  '  generation '  in 
NT  two  are  unimportant  so  far  as  the  Gospels  are 
concerned.  (1)  In  IP  -2"  'a  chosen  generation,' 
7^TO!   «\e*-rw.,    sboulil    lie    lendenil    :i-    in    i;V,    'an 

elect  race.'     (•_')  In   Ml    1'  the   n  Iioiild  be 

'the  I k  of  the  ,„■„,,„    of   .!,      I     .    I    I        ,     ,i-i,igthe 

word  yfi'fui'i  in   its  v,iil,'>i    ^en-".       Ihe   aning  in 

Mt  1«,  Lk  1"  is  sliuhily  dilVerent,  and  is  best  ex- 
pressed by  '  birth  '  (l'\'i.  (3)  The  most  important 
word  used  in  the  (;o-|iels  is  yevcd,  meaning  (a) 
'race,'  '  ofl'spriiiu,"  'desciMit';  (/;)  the  people  of 
any  given  period  :  (')  a  ]ierio(l  binsely  delined  by 
the  life  of  a  man  or  of  a  family  :  {</)  iii'sucli  phra.ses 
as  eis  yevrnt  yci'euii'  (Lk  I'")  it  is  used.  a|i]iarentl_y  as 
the  equivalent  of  c~\,-\  ni,  to  exjiress  iiidelinite  time, 
generally  in  the  future.  Cf.  the  expression  in  Eph 
3=1  els  Trdaas  rds  yeveds  rov  alu^vos  rwf  ai'uii'wc,  whicll, 
however,  is  considered  liy  Dalman  (  U'lm/x  cf  Jesus, 
p.  165,  Eng.  tr.)  as  referring  to  all  the  generations 
of  'the  current  age'  of  'the  world  period.'  But 
the  iihrase  seems  rather  to  be  the  strongest 
possible    way    of    exjiressing    'for   ever.'      That 


CxENNESARET,  LAKE  OF 


GENNESARET,  LAND  OF 


ycvei  (rendered  '  generation  ')  does  express  ,'  the 
current  age '  of  '  the  worUl  period '  is  obvious  in 
the  Gospels  (Lk  16»,  Mt  24^,  and  less  clearly  Mt 
233«)  ;  also  the  people  of  that  age  (Mt  12'»  16^ 
Mk  8'=,  Lk  1 1=»).  In  the  sense  of  («)  it  is  found 
only  in  JMt  1"  and  apparently  never  in  its  original 
sense  (n).  (4)  Tliis  fast  is  expressed  by  quite  a 
different  word,  viz.  yim,,j,a..  In  Mt  3'  12**  23^^ 
Lk  3',  AV  has  tlie  phrase  'generation  of  vipers.' 
The  Greek  is  ytpvinaTo.  ix'-Svlit',  which  RV  renders 
'  offspring  of  vipers.'  The  rendering  of  AV  is  due 
to  Tindale  (see  Hastings'  DB  ii.  142*').  Elsewhere 
the  word  occurs  as  yiv-qiJ-a.  (Mt  262",  Lk  22i»,  2  Co 
!)'"),  rendered  '  fruit.'  G.  GOHDON  Stott. 

GENNESARET,  LAKE  OF.— See  Sea  of  Gali- 

I.KIi. 

GENNESARET,  LAND  OF.— Thither  Jesus  and 
His  disciples  repaired  after  the  feeding  of  the  5000 
(Mt  14--,  Mk  6'=).  This  miracle  probably  took 
place  on  the  N.E.  sliore  of  the  Sea  of  Galilee. 
When  evening  came,  the  Synoptists  tell  us,  His 
disciples  entered  into  a  boat,  and  crossing  over  the 
sea,  came  to  the  land,  unto  Gennesaret,  etri  ttju  yr)v 
eU  TevvriaapiT  (Mt  14**,  Mk  6=^). 

1.  Naine. — The  'Land  of  Gennesar,  or  Gennesa- 
ret,' is  mentioned  but  twice  in  the  Bible  (Mt  14**, 
Mk  6-'*).  The  name  'Gennesaret,'  however,  occurs 
elsewhere :  once  as  the  name  of  tlie  Lake,  irapa 
TTiv  XlfiPTiv  Vevv-qaapiT  (Lk  5'),  once  in  1  Mac  11'" 
TO  iiSiiip  Tov  rivvriadp,  and  is  frequently  found  in 
Josephus,  who  uses  both  Xi/ivrj  Veiii>ri(TaplTi.s  {An/.. 
XVIII.  ii.  1)  and  XI/ii/ti  Tei-i/ijo-dp  [BJ  III.  x.  7) ;  in  the 
Targums,  ip'ja,  npisa,  1D«3,  and  id'jj  ;  and  in  Pliny's 
writings,  Gcre}ie.9ar«  (v.  15).  The  name  of  tlie  Lake 
was  derived  from  that  of  the  Plain,  and  that  in  turn 
from  the  name  of  a  city  sujiposed  by  the  Jews  to 
have  been  situated  on  the  W.  shore  of  the  Sea  of 
Galilee ;  that  portion  of  the  jtlain  bordering  on' 
Mejdel  being  called  Ard  cl-Mcjdel.  On  the  deriva- 
tion of  tlie  word  Gennesaret,  see  art.  Sea  of 
Galilee. 

2.  Sitiialion. — It  is  usually  identified  with  the 
little  plain  situated  on  the  western  coast  of  the 
Sea  of  Galilee,  and  known  to  the  Aralis  as  el- 
Ghuweir,  'little  Glior  or  hollow.'  This  identifica- 
tion is  as  good  as  certain.  The  description  of  it 
as  given  by  Josephus  can  apply  to  no  other. 
Several  years  ago  an  attempt  was  made  by  Thrupp 
and  Tregelles  (in  the  Journal  of  Classical  and 
Sacred  Philology,  ii.  290-308)  to  identify  it  witli 
the  plain  of  ei-Batihah,  on  the  N.  E.  shore  of  the 
Lake,  but  without  success  (cf.  Stanley's  '  Note '  in 
refutation,  SP  455). 

3.  .S'('-<^.— Shut  in  by  the  hilly  promontory  of 
Khan  Minyrh  >m  tliu  N.  and  the  still  more  promi- 
nent liills  liy  Miigdala  on  the  S.,  .and  extending 
westward  from  tbe  Lake  only  to  the  base  of  the 
rugged  uplands  of  Galilee,  its  total  area  is  exceed- 


about  3  miles  long  from  N.  to  S.  liy  Ij:  broad  from 
E.  to  AV.  Stanley's  measurements  are  wide  of  the 
mark  when  he  says  that  the  plain  is  6  or  7  miles 
long  by  5  miles  broad  {SP  442) ;  and  even  G.  A. 
Smith  exaggerates  Avhen  he  describes  it  as  'four 
miles  broad'  (HGHL  443).  Josephus'  measure- 
ments are  more  nearly  correct,  viz.  30x20  stadia; 
though  in  fact  it  is  a  little  longer  than  30  and  not 
quite  so  broad  as  20.  In  form  it  is  soiuewh.at 
crescent-shaped  or  semi-elliptical.  Its  surface  is 
comparatively  level.  Its  altitude,  like  that  of  the 
Sea  of  Galilee,  is  over  650  feet  below  the  level 
of  the  Mediterranean. 

i.  Josephus'  description  of  tlie  Land  of  Gennes- 
aret.— 


ants  accordingfly  plant  all  sorts  of  trees  thcr< 
of  the  air  is  so  well  mixed  that  it  agrees  v.-i 
several  sorts;  particularly  walnuts,  which  V' 
air,  flourish  there  in  vast  plenty;  there  ;irr 
which  grow  best  in  hot  air  ;  tig  trees  also  ■.iu.[ 
them,  which  yet  require  an  air  that  is  i 

plants  that  ar.-  tiatucalh  '  ii.aiii>'s  to  nnr  :i: 

of  them   lai«l   >  inm    \"  lln-  ri,iiiili\  ;  1m|-  j' 


c-r  :i  .1     .  I  i       (h  other  fruits  as  they  become  ripe  through 

til'  I  I    Ill-sides  the  good  temperature  of  the  air, 

il  1^  .1-  I  v  III  I'll  ii'itia  most  copious  fountain.  The  people  of 
thu  euuiui.v  rail  u  (J.ti>haruauni,  Some  have  thought  it  to  be  a 
vein  of  the  Nile,  because  it  produces  the  coracln  fish  as  well  as 
that  lake  does  which  is  near  to  .Mexandria.  The  length  of  this 
country  extends  itself  along  the  banks  of  this  lake  that  bears 
the  same  name  for  thirtv  furlongs,  and  is  in  breadth  twenty. 
And  this  is  the  nature  of  that  place  '  {BJ  ill.  x.  8). 

This  classical  passage  from  Josephus,  though 
probably  coloured  to  some  extent,  gives  substanti- 
ally the  truth  about  the  Plain  as  it  must  have  been 
in  the  time  of  Christ,  and  for  this  reason  it  is  of 
the  utmost  importance.  Jewish  Rabbins  of  early 
times  corroborate  his  description.  They  descrilie 
it  as  possessing  both  '  gardens  and  paradises ' ;  as 
one  of  the  garden  spots  of  the  world  ;  as  irrigated 
and  cultivated  so  that  no  portion  of  it  was  barren  ; 
and  as  being  dotted  over  thickly  with  towns  ami 
villages.  Indeed,  ruins  of  \  ill.iji -^  li.ivc  l.^en  found 
at  three  or  four  dilti-rriit  Imiliiii  ,  in  ih,-  Plain, 
viz.  at  the  opening  of  Wml.i  .  /  //  <,i./,,/,  at  Win  cl- 
Mudauirarn/i,  south  (if'.li//  'i/'in,  ami  i)ii  the  N. 
side  of  n'a,/!r-'--li'"'""'i.'/'/'. 

S.  Its  ciiiii/itinii  tii.i/'ii/. — Josephus'  account  is 
especially  iniiiv^i  Jul;  l.rcause  of  the  contrast  be- 
tween its  coiiililicm  tlii-ii  and  now.  Then,  it  was  a 
most  charming  spot — 'the  unjiaralleled  garden  of 
God,'  as  a  certain  Rabbi  calls  it ;  and  '  the  gem  of 
Palestine,'  as  Merrill  .speaks  of  it  {Galilee  in  the 
Time  of  Christ,  33) :  now-,  it  is,  as  'Thomson  says, 
'pre-eminently  fruitful  in  thorns,'  a  veritable 
thicket  of  oleanders  and  nubk  trees,  of  gigantic 
thistles  and  brambles.  And  yet  even  now  one 
finds  proofs  of  its  former  luxuriance  in  the  wealth 
of  its  wild  flowers,  the  heavy-headed  wheat  and 
barley  growing  here  and  there,  and  in  the  stout- 
ness of  the  thorns  and  thistles  almost  everywhere. 

(1)  The  soil  is  wonderfully  rich,  like  that  of  the 
Delta  in  Egypt.  It  consists  of  basaltic  loam 
formed  by  the  mingling  of  decomposed  basalt  witli 
the  alluvium  of  the  lake.  All  travellers — Seetzen, 
von  Schubert,  Ritter,  Burckhardt,  Robinson, 
Wilson,  and  Thom.son — praise  the  fertility  of  this 
Plain,  and  all  except  Stanley  (cf.  SP  451)  lament 
its  present  desolate  and  uncultivated  condition. 
The  latter  erroneously  describes  it  as  '  cultivated 
everywhere.'  Only  near  Magdala  are  there  signs 
of  marsh. 

(2)  Fountains  and  streams  supply  it  with  water 
in  copious  abundiince.  Three  winter  torrents  rush 
down  from  the  hill  country  lying  to  the  west,  and 
bring  with  them  abundance  of  water  for  the  greater 
portion  of  the  year,  {a)  One  is  known  as  the 
iVady  el-Hanmm,  or  the  'Valley  of  Pigeons,'  a 
deep  gorge  bounded  by  almost  perpendicular  cliffs 
over  one  thousand  feet  in  height,  which  enters  tlie 
Plain  from  the  S.W.  This  is  a  tremendous  ravine, 
and  from  Josephus'  day  has  lieen  known  as  the 
ravine  of  the  'Robber  Caves' — the  chosen  resort 
of  brigands  in  former  days.  Tliomson  describes 
it  in  two  connexions,  as  '  a,  great  chasm  '  and  as  a 
'profound  gorge'  (Land  and  the  Book,  ii.  395- 
397),  and  as  leading  up  to  a  fort  or  castle  known 
as  Katat  ibn  Mdan,  and  still  on  to  the  village  of 
^attin.  Down  this  valley  are  poured  large 
volumes  of  water,  and  down  through  this  same 
ravine,  as  through  a  funnel,  rush  sudden  blasts  of 
wind,  which  break  upon  th«  Lake.     The  ruins  of 


GENNESARET,  LAND  OF 


GENTILES 


641 


Irbkl,  the  Arljela  of  Joseplms  and  1  Mac  9-,  are 
not  far  to  the  south,  (i)  Another  torrent,  entering 
tlie  Plain  from  the  \V.,  is  that  known  as  IVadi/  er- 
Bubudiiich.  This  is  the  largest,  and  yields  the 
most  plentiful  supply  of  water  furnished  to  the 
Plain.  It  is  used  to  iiTigate  the  Plain  both  N. 
and  S.,  furnishing  nearly  three  times  the  volume 
of  water  supplied  by  'Ain  d-Muclauiuarah.  (c)  A 
third  torrent  enters  the  Plain  from  the  N.W.  It 
is  called  Wady  el-Amud.  Like  Wadij  d-Hamam, 
it  is  a  deep  ravine,  and  scarcely  less  striking  be- 
cause of  its  narrowness.  Its  waters  take  their 
rise  in  the  Jarmuk,  the  highest  mountain  in  Gali- 
lee. For  the  greater  part  of  its  course  it  is  called 
Wady  el-Lcimum.  It  is  only  a  winter  torrent. 
According  to  Thomson,  all  of  these  streams  which 
enter  the  Plain  disappear  in  summer  before  they 
reach  the  Lake. 

Besides  these  waters  which  drain  the  region  of 
Galilee  immediately  west  of  the  Plain  of!  Gennesa- 
ret,  there  are  certain  fountains  in  the  Plain  itself 
whose  waters  were  used  for  irrigation  :  (a)  'Ain  d- 
Mudauwarah,  or  '  Round  Fountain,'  situated  a 
little  over  a  mile  N.W.  of  Magdala,  is  the  largest 
and  most  important.  It  is  enclosed  by  a  circular 
wall  of  hewn  stones,  32  yards  in  diameter,  sur- 
rounded by  thick  trees  and  brushwood,  so  that 
access  is  tfifficult ;  but  it  yields  a  copious  stream 
of  clear  water,  which  flows  across  the  Plain  to  the 
Lake,  irrigating  right  and  left.  The  pool  itself 
contains  two  to  three  feet  of  water  and  certain 
lish.  Ebrard  (SK,  1867,  pp.  723-747)  identified  it 
with  the  fountain  of  Capharnaum  mentioned  by 
Josephus,  but  this  has  been  shown  to  be  highly 
improbable.  Two  other  fountains  assist  in  water- 
ing the  southern  end  of  the  Plain  :  'Ain  d-Bareideh, 
or  'Cold  Spring,'  also  known  as  'Ain  d-Fwliyeh,  or 
'Fountain  of  the  Bean';  a.nA.'Ain  es-Serar,  some- 
what further  to  the  S.W.  (^)  'Ain  et-Tm,  or 
'  Fountain  of  the  Fig  Tree,'  is  another  large  and 
important  spring.  It  is  situated  on  the  northern 
edge  of  the  Plain,  and  bursts  forth  from  under  the 
cliffs  of  Khan  Minyeh.  Unfortunately,  it  is  too 
close  to  the  shore  of  the  I^ake  to  be  used  exten- 
sively for  irrigating  purposes.  The  stream  which 
issues  from  it  is  choked  with  a  jungle  of  oleanders 
and  papyrus.  Robinson  identifies  this  fountain 
with  the  spring  of  Capharnaum  of  Josephus.  (7) 
'Ain  et-fabigha,  or  '  Fountain  of  the  Ruined  Mil!,' 
formerly  supposed  to  be  the  scene  of  the  miracle 
of  the  feeding  of  the  5000  (Mk  6»»-"),  is  another 
large  spring  of  water— according  to  Tristram,  the 
largest  in  Galilee,  and  about  one-half  as  large  as 
the  fountain  at  Coesarea  Philippi.  It  is  not  situ- 
ated in  the  Plain,  but  considerably  N.E.,  about 
half-way  between  Khan  Minyeh  and  Tdl  Hum, 
the  two  rival  sites  of  Capernaum  ;  but  its  waters 
were  formerly  conducted  by  a  channel  cut  in  the 
rock  around  the  promontory  on  which  Khan  Min- 
yeh is  situated,  and  made  to  irrigate  the  N.  end 
of  the  Plain  of  Gennesaret.  This  aqueduct  was 
discovered   first  by  Sir  Chas.  Wilson,  and   since 


then  the  fountain  has  been  generally  considered 
to  be  the  spring  of  Capharnaum  of  Josephus  (cf. 
Thomson,  Land  and  Book,  ii.  429). 

(3)  Produds.~Yfit\i  all  these  resources  of  irri- 
gation, it  is  not  surprising  that  the  Plain  of 
Gennesaret  should  be  described  by  the  Rabbins  as 
the  'Garden  of  God,'  or  that  its  superior  and 
delicious  fruits  '  were  not  allowed  at  the  feasts  in 
Jerusalem  lest  some  might  attend  primarily  to 
enjoy  these  fruits '  (Bab.  Pesachim,  8  o  ;  Neubauer, 
G^og.  du  Talmud,  45  f.).  But  to-day,  though  its 
grapes,  figs,  olives,  and  walnuts  have  vanished, 
there  are  to  be  seen  wild  figs,  oleanders,  nubk  trees, 
dwarf  palms,  papyrus  plants,  tall  prickly  cen- 
taureas  ;  in  summer,  magnificent  lilac-coloured  con- 
volvuli  hanging  in  long  festoons  of  blossom  from 


the  prickly  shrubs  ;  wild  flowers  of  countless  variety 
— tulips,  anemones,  irises ;  rice,  wheat,  the  best  and 
earliest  melons  and  cucumbers  in  Palestine,  sedges 
and  rushes  by  the  Lake  ;  also  thorns  and  thistles, 
especially  in  the  central  portion ;  in  short,  a 
tangle  of  luxuriant  vegetation  —  a  lovely  floral 
carpet  in  February,  a  wilderness  of  thorns  in 
summer.  For  here,  indeed,  Nature  has  lavished 
her  glory  in  tropical  profusion. 

(4)  Eoads.—Two  paths  cross  the  Plain  from  S. 
to  N. — the  chief  one  leading  from  Magdala  to 
Khan  Minyeh  in  a  direct  course,  and  skirting  the 
Lake  shore  within  a  few  hundred  feet ;  the  other 
following  the  base  of  the  hills  along  its  western 
side,  and  striking  over  the  hills  northwards.  One 
of  tile  best  views  obtainable  of  the  Plain  is  from 
the  top  of  the  ridge  above  Magdala. 

(5)  Inhabitants.  —  The  Plain  is  without  settled 
inhabitants  to-day.  The  Ghawarineh  Arabs,  more 
especially  a  certain  tribe  named  es-Sene/ciyeh, 
roam  over  it,  using  it  as  winter  pasture  land. 
Wilson  recounts  that  gipsies  from  India  have 
been  known  to  sojourn  there  with  their  tents  and 
flocks  (p.  138).  As  a  rule,  solitude  reigns  except 
near  the  village  of  Magdala  and  at  Khan  Minyeh. 

(6)  Health. — Fevers  are  still  prevalent  in  this 
region  as  in  the  days  of  our  Lord,  when,  not  far 
distant,  at  least,  Peter's  wife's  mother  lay  sick  (Lk 
4^).  Thomson  speaks  of  'the  heat  and  malarial 
influences  of  the  Plain.'  This  probably  accounts 
in  part  for  its  present  desolation,  though  under 
the  Turk  it  has  fared  but  little  worse  than  other 
portions  of  the  Empire. 

Such  is  the  land  of  Gennesaret,  on  the  immediate 
edge  of  which  lay  Capernaum,  and  over  whose 
'  Eden-like  landscape '  the  feet  of  our  blessed  Lord 
so  often  trod  as  He  went  about  preaching  from 
village  to  village,  healing  the  sick  and  raising  to 
life  the  dead.  One  can  almost  see  Him,  in  fancy, 
pushing  out  in  a  little  boat  along  the  embayed  and 
shell-covered  shore,  followed  to  the  water's  edge 
by  the  multitudes  who  pressed  upon  Him  daily 
from  populous  Gennesaret,  and  hear  Him  speaking 
to  them,  as  they  sit  upon  the  shore,  concerning 
the  gospel  of  the  Kingdom,  drawing  illustrations 
from  the  sower,  who,  going  forth  to  sow,  allows 
some  seeds  to  fall  by  the  wayside,  others  on  stony 
places,  still  others  where  they  are  choked  by  thorns  ; 
,T,nd  then,  when  He  became  weary,  retiring  to  the 
mountains  for  rest  and  spiritual  refreshment  in 
prayer,  only  to  return  again  and  repeat  His  mess- 
age of  goodwill  and  comfort ;  until,  finally,  when 
the  great  tragedy  on  Calvary  is  ended  and  He  is 
risen  from  the  tomb,  He  reappears  to  those  same 
disciples,  who  meanwhile  have  returned  to  their 
nets.  Surely  no  other  spot  of  like  size  can  possibly 
be  of  equal  interest,  to  the  Christian  who  loves  to 
trace  the  footprints  of  His  Master's  earthly  career, 
with  what  has  justly  been  called  '  the  most  sacred 
region  of  the  Lake,'  '  the  gem  of  Palestine.' 

LiTERATiTEE.— Sandav,  Sacred  Sites  of  the  Gospels,  39  f. ;  Tris- 
tram, Bible  Places,  311-316,  The  Land  0/  Israel,  665  ;  Thom- 
son, The  Land  and  the  Book,  i.  86,  ii.  293f.,  29S,  403,  iii.  166; 
G.  A.  Smith,  HGHLUSd.  ;  Merrill,  Galilee  in  the  Time  of 
Christ,  33,  34,  art.  'Gennesaret,  Land  of,'  in  Hastmgs'  DB; 
Robinson,  BRF  iii.  277 ff..  Physical  Geo,,,  of  the  Holy  Land, 
199;  Cheyne,  art.  'Gennesar'  in  Encyc.  Bibl.  ;  Wright  and 
Hackett,  art.  '  Gennesaret,  Land  of,'  in  Smith's  DB ;  Socm  in 
Baedeker's  Palestine  and-  Syria,  291 ;  Stewart,  Land  of  Israel, 
264;  Gender,  Primer  of  Bible  Geoff.  160  f.;  Stanley,  SP  444- 
454  •  Wilson,  Lands  of  'the  Bible,  137 ;  Oeikie,  The  Holy  Land 
and  the  Bible,  ii.  331 ;  Eitter,  Geog.  of  Palestine,  ii.  265  ;  Buhl, 
GAP  US;  Neubauer,  G^og.  du  Talm.  46 f.;  Josephus,  BJ  ill. 
X.  8;  Ruetsche  in  PREi  v.  6f. ;  Furrer  in  Sohenke!,  11.  322 ; 
Swete,  Com.  an  St.  Mark,  ad  &'■> ;  Plummer,  Com.  mi  St.  Luke, 

ad  51.  George  L.  Robinson. 

GENTILES.— In  AV  of  the  Gospels,  '  Gentiles ' 
and  'nations'  are  the  translations  of  lOvri,  RV 
agreeing  with  the  rendering  of  AV  in  every  place 
of  the  word's  occurrence.     In  Mt  6'  {i9pmot)  and 


GENTILES 


GENTILES 


18"  (idviKos)  AV  has  '  heathen '  and  '  a  heathen  man ' 
respectively;  RV  'Gentiles'  and  'the  Gentile.' 
In  Mt  5'\  where  AV  has  reXuvai,  '  publicans,'  RV 
mth  the  reading  iSviKoi  has  '  Gentiles.'  "EXXi/ves, 
occurring  in  John  only,  is  rendered  'Greeks'  in 
12»  RV  and  AV  ;  in  7==  tlV  has  '  Greeks,'  AV  '  Gen- 
tiles,' ^vith,  however,  '  Greeks '  in  the  margin. 
'EW-nvls  (Mk  7-«)  is  translated  'a  Greek'  in  both 
versions,  but  AV  has  'Gentile'  in  the  margin. 
The  very  wide  diffusion  of  the  Greek  language 
after  the  conquests  of  Alexander  the  Great  was 
the  reason  that  in  our  Lord's  day  '  Greek '  was 
often  used  as  an  equivalent  for  '  Gentile.'  See 
Greeks.  The  word  '  Gentiles,'  from  the  Lat. 
gentilis  (adjective  of  gens,  pi.  gentes,  'a  race,' 
'people,'  or  'nation'),  is  used  in  the  Vulgate  to 
render  the  Heb.  D^ia  and  the  Gr.  leni],  and  lias  thus 
passed  into  English. 

For  a  full  discussion  of  the  terra  'Gentiles,' 
reference  must  be  made  to  the  Bible  Dictionaries. 
It  is  only  necessary  here  to  allude  to  the  origin 
and  use  of  the  expression  in  the  OT.  Just  as  le^os 
in  the  Gospels,  as  a  rule  (for  an  exception  see  Mt 
21''^),  means  the  Je^vish  nation,  and  IBfTj  the 
nations  other  than  Jewish,  so  in  the  OT  '13  {goi],  as 
a  rule  (for  an  exception  see  Lv  20'^),  stands  for  the 
former  and  the  pi.  d:u  {goiim)  for  the  latter ;  and 
whilst  often  used  in  its  purely  ethnogiaphical  and 
geographical  sense,  with  the  meaning  '  foreigner,' 
it  is  also  constantly  employed,  especially  in  the 
Psalms,  as  a  term  of  aversion  and  contempt,  as 
connoting  the  practice  of  false  religions  and  of 
immoral  customs.  The  material  and  moral  evils 
which  the  goiim  had  brought  upon  Israel  in  its 
later  history  tended  to  intensify  the  feelings  of 
hostility  with  wliich  the  Jews  looked  out  upon 
tliem  from  their  o^vn  religious  exclusiveness  ;  and 
accordingly,  in  oui-  Lord's  day  and  in  the  genera- 
tions following  (see  Acts  and  the  Epistles  passim), 
they  were  regarded  by  the  Jews  generally  as 
aliens,  having  no  claim  whatever  to  the  Divine 
recognition.  This  must  be  borne  in  mind  when 
estimating  our  Lord's  teaching  on  the  subject. 

A  full  consideration  of  the  attitude  of  early 
Christianity  towards  the  Gentiles  requires  a  study 
of  the  Acts  and  Epistles  at  least,  and  is  beyond 
tlie  scope  of  this  article  :  our  Lord's  teaching,  how- 
ever, afterwards  developed  by  His  followers,  is 
quite  plainly  indicated  in  tlie  Gospels,  and  must 
form  tne  basis  of  any  adequate  discussion  of  the 
subject. 

The  fact  that  Jesus  did  not  pass  His  youth  in 
the  religiously  exclusive  atmosphere  of  Jerusalem, 
but  in  the  freer  and  more  liberal  surroundings  of 
semi-Gentile  Galilee,  fits  in  with  the  prophetic 
word  of  Simeon  at  the  Presentation,  and  the  de- 
clarations of  His  forerunner:  He  was  to  be  'a  light 
to  lighten  the  Gentiles'  (Lk  2^-);  and,  God  was 
able  to  raise  up  to  Abraham  children  (3*)  who 
could  not  boast  any  natural  descent  from  the 
patriarch.  St.  Matthew,  although  according  to 
the  usual  account  of  his  standpoint  he  had  no 
especially  Gentile  procli'i'ities,  records  two  im- 
portant prophetic  utterances  regarding  the  Gen- 
tiles as  being  illustrated  and  fulfilled  in  his 
Master's  work :  '  Galilee  of  the  Gentiles ;  the 
people  which  sat  in  darkness  saw  great  light ; 
ana  to  them  which  sat  in  the  region  and  shadow 
of  death  light  is  sprung  up '  (4''-  '*),  and,  '  In 
his  name  shall  the  Gentiles  trust'  (12-').  At 
the  beginning  of  His  ministry,  if  we  accept  St. 
Luke's  chronology  (see  Naaman),  Jesus  defied  the 
Jewish  prejudices  of  His  hearers  in  the  synagogue 
at  Nazareth  by  citing  cases  of  Gentiles  blessed 
through  the  agency  of  Israel's  prophets  (Lk  4""-)  ; 
and,  when  driven  from  His  native  town,  He  took  up 
His  abode  in  a  city  of  despised  Galilee  which  be- 
longed to  that  less  Jewish  portion  of  it  known  as 


'GalUee  of  the  Gentiles'  (Mt  4'').  Moreover,  it 
was  in  the  same  Gentile-infected  GaUlee  that  the 
most  important  part  of  His  ministry  was  carried 
on,  and  He  even  went  into  the  borders  of  Tyre  and 
Sidon  (Mk  7^),  and  also  taught  and  healed  those 
who  came  to  Him  from  thence,  together  vnth  those 
who  sought  Him  from  Decapolis  (Mt  4"),  and  from 
Idumsea,  and  from  beyond  Jordan  (Mk  3') ;  nor  did 
He  disdain  to  remain  on  one  occasion  for  two  days 
among  the  Samaritans  at  their  request  ( Jn  4*).  In 
His  public  teaching  He  showed  no  prejudice  in  favour 
of  the  Jews  in  His  assignment  of  praise  and  blame  : 
the  grateful  leper  whom  He  blessed  was  a  Samari- 
tan (Lk  17"^*)  ;  it  was  a  good  Samaritan  who 
was  set  forth  as  an  example  in  one  of  His  most 
famous  parables  (10*"^);  and  He  commended  the 
faith  of  the  centurion  as  being  greater  than  any 
He  had  found  in  Israel  (Mt  8").  On  the  other 
hand,  the  evil  generation  of  whom  the  Pharisees 
were  representatives,  He  declared  should  be  con- 
demned in  the  judgment  by  Gentiles,  the  men  of 
Nineveh  and  the  queen  of  Sheba  (12"'-);  and,  set- 
ting the  seal  to  the  teaching  of  His  forerunner.  He 
asserted  in  effect  that  the  true  children  of  Abra- 
ham were  those  who  did  the  deeds  cf  Abraham, 
and  were  not  necessarily  those  who  were  naturally 
descended  from  him  (Jn  S^^-).  In  the  Sermon  on 
the  Mount  the  same  broad  and  world-wide  outlook 
is  manifested :  there  is  hardly  anything  of  im- 
portance in  that  gieat  discourse  wmch  is  local  or 
temporary — it  is  obviously  for  all  men  and  for  all 
time.  With  this,  too,  coincides  the  teaching  of  His 
many  parables  about  the  Kingdom  of  heaven  and 
that  recorded  in  the  Fourth  Gospel — in  this  Gospel 
particularly  all  His  utterances  are  in  accord  with 
His  declaration  to  the  Samaritan  woman  concern- 
ing the  true  worshippers  (4^),  and  with  the  impres- 
sion produced  on  the  Samaritans  that  He  was  the 
Savioiu-  of  the  world  (v.-^) ;  for  in  this  Gospel 
especially  His  words  of  warning,  of  encourage- 
ment, and  of  hope  embrace  all  mankind  :  '  God  so 
loved  the  world  .  .  .  that  whosoever  believeth  .  .  . 
shall  have  eternal  life '  (3").  And,  finallv,  at  the 
end  of  His  ministry,  in  the  allegory  of  the  sheep 
and  the  goats,  spoken  exclusively  with  reference 
to  Gentiles,  He  applies  to  those  on  the  right  hand 
the  word  'righteous,' which  in  the  Jewish  language 
was  so  often  the  technical  term  to  designate  only 
the  chosen  people  (Mt  25''). 

There  are  two  passages  in  the  Gospels  which 
demand  a  passing  notice,  as  they  might  seem  at 
first  sight  to  be  in  opposition  to  our  Lord's  usual 
attitude  towards  the  Gentiles.  One  is  His  saying 
to  the  Syrophcenician  woman,  '  I  am  not  sent  but 
unto  the  lost  sheep  of  the  house  of  Israel '  (Mt 
15^) ;  and  the  other  is  His  injunction  to  the 
Twelve,  '  Go  not  into  the  way  of  the  Gentiles,  and 
into  any  city  of  the  Samaritans  enter  ye  not ;  but 
go  rather  to  the  lost  sheep  of  the  house  of  Israel ' 
(105- «).  In  the  first  case  there  is  little  doubt 
that  our  Lord's  words  were  intended  to  test  or  to 
call  forth  the  woman's  faitli,  and  are  not  to  be 
understood  as  implying  anj'  unwillingness  on  His 
part  to  assist  her  (see  SvROPHffixiciAN  Woman). 
And  in  the  second  case  we  are  to  notice  that  the 
prohibition  was  laid  upon  the  Twelve  only,  and 
had  no  application  to  His  own  conduct ;  and, 
furtlier,  that  the  proliibition  was  distinctly  re- 
moved by  Hun  after  the  Resurrection  in  the  great 
commission  recorded  in  Mt  28"  'Go  ye  therefore 
and  teach  all  nations'  [in  Mk  16'^  'Go  ye  into 
all  the  world,  and  preach  the  gospel  to  every 
creature '],  and  in  Ac  1*  '  Ye  shall  oe  witnesses 
unto  me  both  in  Jerusalem,  and  in  all  Juda;a,  and 
in  Samaria,  and  unto  the  uttermost  part  of  the 
earth.'  And  there  are  other  passages,  such  as  Mt 
'2i^*  26",  from  which  it  is  plain  that  our  Lord  con- 
templated the  world-wide  preaching  of  the  gospel 


GENTLENESS 


GERASENES,  GERGESENES      C43 


by  His  followers,  the  fulftlinent,  in  fact,  of  the 
aiicient  prediction  to  the  father  of  the  faithful : 
'  In  thy  seed  shall  all  the  nations  (goiirn)  of  the 
earth  be  blessed,'  (Gn  22'8).    See  Missions. 


51-56,  299-305,  ii.  291-327 ;  Edersheim,  Life  and  Times  of 
Jesus  the  Messiah,  Index,  3. '  Gentiles.* 

Albert  Bonus. 

GENTLENESS.— St.  Paul  in  2  Co  10'  appeals 
to  the  meekness  and  gentleness  {irpauTTis  xai  enu- 
Keia)  of  Christ.  These  qualities  would  be  readily 
admitted  to  be  so  characteristic  of  Jesus  as  to 
require  no  specific  illustration.  Yet  such  is  the 
objective  character  of  the  Gospels,  that  wth  the 
exception  of  His  own  claim  to  be  '  meek  and  lowly 
in  heart'  (Mt  11^)  and  the  Evangelist's  application 
of  the  prophecy,  'Behold,  thy  king  conieth  unto 
thee,  meek  .  .  . '  (21=),  neither  quality  is  directly 
attributed  to  Him,  nor,  with  the  exception  of 
Mt  5=,  does  either  word  occur  in  His  recorded 
teaching. 

These  characteristics  of  Jesus  are  not  easily  de- 
fined in  themselves,  or~Tiistinguished  from  one 
another.  (See  art.  '  Gentleness '  in  Hastings'  DB, 
vol.  ii.  p.  150).  IIpai/Tijs  is  rather  an  inward  dis- 
position of  the  mind,  the  quietness  of  soul  which  is 
the  result  of  faith  and  self-restraint ;  iwielKeta  is  an 
active  grace,  exhibited  in  human  relations,  '  it 
expresses  the  quality  of  considerateness,  of  readi- 
ness to  look  hmuanely  and  reasonably  at  the  facts 
of  a  case ' ;  it  denotes  in  Jesus  the  tenderness  of 
His  dealings  with  the  moral  and  social  outcasts, 
the  burdened  and  heavy  laden,  the  weak  and 
ignorant;  His  gracious  courtesy,  geniality  of 
address,  thoughtfulness,  and  delicacy  of  touch. 
It  is  not  the  expression  of  a  nature  of  such  softness 
as  to  be  always  on  the  verge  of  tears,  or  of  a 
sentimentalism  which  has  little  strength  of  con- 
science, and  no  power  of  moral  indignation  and 
repulsion.  The  gentleness  of  Christ  can  be  appre- 
ciated only  when  it  is  related  to  certain  other 
elements  in  His  personality.  (1)  His  consciousness 
of  His  Divine  origin,  and  His  royal  vocation  as 
founder  of  the  Kingdom  of  God  (cf.  Jn  13'"=). 
(2)  His  moral  consciousness.  His  is  not  the  gentle- 
ness towards  the  sinful  which  arises  from  moral 
indifference,  or  the  desire  of  a  sin-marred  nature 
to  be  judged  of  leniently.  He  is  conscious  of  sin- 
lessness ;  He  looks  upon  sin  as  the  great  tragedy 
of  human  life,  but  His  passion  for  righteousness  does 


not  make  Hini  harsh  in  judgment  or  unmerciful 
in  dealing  (cf.  Mt  5"- ').  (3)  His  consciousness  of 
Divine  power.  It  is  the  gentleness  not  of  weak- 
ness, but  of  might.  The  Lamb  of  God  answering 
Pilate  so  mildly  was  conscious  that  twelve  legions 
of  angels  stood  at  His  disposal  (Mt  26^). 

The  Baptist,  himself  stem  of  soul,  foresaw  the 
coming  of  one  greater  than  he— fjreater,  but  not 
more  gentle.  The  axe,  fan,  and  hre  of  judgment 
were  at  His  command,  and  He  would  wield  these 
instruments  of  wrath  to  the  destruction  of  wicked- 
ness (Mt  3'»-'2).  But,  to  John's  intense  disappoint- 
ment, Jesus  found  His  ideal  and  method  not  in  these 
symbols  of  violence,  but  in  the  conception  of  the 
Servant  of  Jehovah,  who  did  not  strive  or  cry  or 
lift  up  his  voice  in  the  streets,  who  did  not  break 
the  bruised  reed  or  quench  the  smoking  flax  (Mt 
12'i'-  20  ;  cf.  Lk  418- 19  and  Mt  ll«-«,  and  see  Is  42i-^). 

The  Gospels  abound  in  illustrations  of  the 
winsome  manner  of  Jesus.  His  reception  of  the 
little  children  (Mt  18=  19"),  His  thoughtfulness  for 
the  multitude  lest  they  should  faint  by  the  way 
(15"-),  the  brotherlj'  touch  of  His  hand  upon  the 
leper  (Mk  V^),  the  delicacy  of  His  approach  to  the 
sorrowing  (Lk  7",  Jn  W^),  His  tender  tones  to  His 
perplexed  disciples— ' little  children,'  'I  will  not 
leave  you  orphans '  (Jn  13^"  14'*),  and  His  sense  of 


their  frailty  in  tlie  words,  '  Sleep  on  now  and  take 
your  rest '  (Mt  26^'),  His  consideration,  even  in  the 
agony  of  death,  for  His  mother  (Jn  19*''' "),— are 
but  examples  of  that  gracious  gentleness  which 
consisted  with,  and  was  the  expression  of,  a  Divine 
dignity  of  love.  His  attitude  to  the  sinful  is  dis- 
tinguished by  the  same  tenderness.  His  intense 
love  of  holiness,  quick  moral  sensitiveness,  and 
stainless  purity,  made  Him  uncompromisingly 
stern  in  ms  rebuke  of  a  self -righteousness  which 
had  little  capacity  of  repentance ;  but  He  com- 
bined with  that  a  deep  insight  into  the  possibilities 
of  sin-marred  natures ;  and  by  His  disclosure  to 
them  of  dormant  powers  of  being,  and  the  tender- 
ness of  His  dealing  with  them.  He  won  them  to 
repentance  and  a  new  life  (Lk  T"*'*  19'"'").  And, 
similarly.  His  rebukes,  touched  by  His  gentleness, 
become  appeals,  and  are  charged  with  the  inspira- 
tion of  a  renewed  trust.  His  ' O  ye  of  little  faith  ' 
(Mt  8-*),  '  Can  ye  drink  the  cup  that  I  drink  of  V ' 
(Mk  10^),  '  Martha,  Martha,  thou  art  careful  and 
troubled  about  many  things '  (Lk  10'"),  '  Could  ye 
not  watch  with  me  one  hour?'  (Mt  26-"'),  'Simon, 
son  of  Jonas,  lovest  thou  me?'  (Jn  ^V^"-), — were 
rebukes  whose  gentleness  could  leave  no  bitterness 
or  despair,  but  recalled  the  soul  to  its  loyalty  to 
Him.  So,  although  Jesus  never  formally  held  forth 
ineUiLa  as  an  ideal  of  Christian  life.  He  left  us  an 
example  that  we  should  follow  His  steps  (1  P  2='). 


Literature.— Trench,  Synonyim,  §  xlii.;  M.  Arnold,  Li\ 
and  Doijma,  vii.  3  ;  A.  L.  Moore,  God  is  Love  (1894),  134  ;  G. 
Jackson,  Menwranda  Paulina  (1901),  61 ;  J.  Watson,  The  In- 
spiration of  our  Faith  (1905),  190  ;  J.  W.  Jack,  After  His  Like- 
ness (1906),  88.  Joseph  Muir. 

GERASENES,  GERGESENES.-The  'country 
of  the  Gerasenes'  {repa(ir]i>Qp)  or  'Gergesenes' 
{re/yyeiriivuii')  is  mentioned  in  Scripture  only  in  con- 
nexion with  the  healing  of  the  demoniac.  The 
AV  reads  'Gergesenes'  in  Mt  8=*,  and  'Gadarenes' 
in  Mk  5'  and  Lk  8^,  while  the  RV  reads  '  Gada- 
renes '  in  Mt.  and  '  Gerasenes '  in  Mk.  and  Luke. 
There  is  preponderating  evidence  in  favour  of  the 
changes  (the  reading  Ta^aprivCiv  in  S  in  Mt.  is  un- 
doubtedly for  TaSapTivCiv.  Many  natives  in  the 
district  surrounding  the  Sea  of  (3alilee  pronounce 
the  Arabic  J  d  and  0  dh  like  2— thus  '  Garfarenes' 
they  would  pronounce  '  Gacarenes ').  The  neigh- 
bourhood of  the  town  of  Gadara  must  be  pro- 
nounced absolutely  impossible  for  the  miracle  (see 
Gadaea).  How  then  account  for  the  reading 
'  Gadarenes '  ?  Perhaps,  as  Thomson  suggests,  the 
place  where  the  miracle  took  place,  '  over  against 
Galilee,'  was  included  within  the  district  of  Gadara. 
But  as  this  would  not  be  officially  correct,  Gadara 
having  been  the  capital  of  the  coimtry  to  the  south 
of  the  town,  it  might  be  better  to  say  that  popular 
usage  gave  to  the  whole  district  on  the  eastern 
shore  of  the  Lake  the  name  of  the  principal  town. 
In  the  same  way  the  reading  repaaiivui/  might  be 
explained — being  derived  from  the  large  and  im- 
portant city  of  the  Decapolis,  Gerasa — the  modem 
Jerash.  (It  need  scarcely  be  said  that  this  latter 
toAvn  is  out  of  the  question  as  the  scene  of  the 
miracle,  being  some  30  miles  from  the  Lake).  The 
derivation  of  the  reading  from  the  Decapolitan 
city,  while  not  perhaps  impossible,  is  very  im- 
probable. A  more  likely  explanation  is  at  hand. 
According  to  Origen,  the  majority  of  the  MSS  he 
had  access  to  had  the  reading  'Gerasenes.'  But 
this  reading  he  objected  to,  inasmuch  as  he  knew 
of  only  one  Gerasa,  the  town  of  the  Decapolis, 
which  he  rightly  conceived  could  not  have  been 
the  scene  of  the  miracle.  He  suggested  that 
'Gergesenes'  must  be  the  true  reading,  as  he 
knew  of  a  town  on  the  eastern  shore  of  the  Lake 
bearing  the  name  Gergesa.     Hence,  on  his  autho- 


644 


GERIZIM 


GERIZIM 


rity,  the  reading  'Gergesenes'  may  have  originated. 
But  how  then  accoint  for  the,  presumably,  true 
reading  which  Origen  found  in  tlie  MSS  ?  There 
can  be  here  no  certainty,  but  the  probability  is 
tliat  Origen  was  right,  and  that  the  true  name  of 
the  vUlage  or  to%vn  where  the  miracle  occurred, 
'  over  against  Galilee,'  was  Gergesa.  It  is  ex- 
tremely rare  to  find  a  soft  changing  into  a  harsh 
sound,  such  as  Gerasa  into  Gergesa.  But  any  one 
who  has  lived  long  in  Palestine  knows  how  common 
it  is,  among  the  uneducated  natives,  to  find  a  hard 
sound  like  the  second  g  in  'Gergesa'  not  only 
changing  into  a  softer  sound,  but  dropping  out 
altogether.  The  pronunciation  of  '  Gergesa ' 
among  the  common  people  would  almost  certainly 
be  'Ger'sa'  (Gerasa).  Hence  from  the  common 
speech  it  would  find  its  way  into  the  text.  The 
modern  name  of  the  village  which  has  been  identi- 
fied as  the  scene  of  the  miracle  is  Khersa  or  C/iersa, 
which  is  nearer  to  '  Gerasa '  than  to  '  Gergesa. ' 

The  identification  of  the  ruins  of  Khersa  with 
the  Gerasa  of  the  Synoptists  is  due  to  Thomson, 
[LB  ii.  355).  The  identification  might  have  been 
made  much  earlier  had  not  men's  minds  been  set 
on  selecting  some  place  near  Gadara.  Had  the 
eastern  shore  of  the  Lake  been  carefully  scrutinized 
in  the  light  of  the  three  passages,  Mt  8'-,  Mk  5'^, 
Lk  8^,  the  identification  of  Khersa  with  the  place 
described  must  have  taken  place.  There  is  one 
spot  only  on  the  eastern  shore  which  answers  coni- 
pletely  to  the  description  of  the  Synoptists.  On 
the  eastern  side  'over  against  Galilee'  Jesus  landed 
from  the  boat,  and  'straightway  there  met  him  out 
of  the  tombs  a  man  with  an  unclean  spirit.'  The 
encounter,  then,  must  have  been  close  to  the  shore. 
Were  tliat  all  we  had  to  guide  us,  identification  of 
the  spot  would  be  impossible,  for  there  are  caves, 
which  may  have  been  used  as  tombs,  all  along  the 
mountain  side.  But  it  would  appear  from  all  three 
Synoptists  that  the  place  where  the  swine  were 
destroyed  ran  down  somewhat  steeply  to  the  water's 
edge.  Now,  as  we  have  said,  there  is  only  one  place 
on  the  eastern  side  where  the  mountain  comes  at 
all  near  to  the  beach,  and  just  there  the  incline  is 
such  that  one  rushing  down  would  be  precipitated 
at  once  by  the  impetus  into  the  water.  Everywhere 
else  along  the  coast  [there  is  a  broad  belt — half  a 
mile  or  more  at  most  parts — between  the  foot  of 
the  hills  and  the  Lake.  This  spot  is  at  Khersa  just 
below  Wddy  es-Semak.  Sailing  up  the  Lake  from 
Wddy  Fik,  which  is  almost  exactly  opposite 
Tiberias,  the  next  valley,  about  a  mile  north,  is 
Wddy  es-Semak.  Close  to  the  seashore  directly 
below  the  Wady  are  the  ruins  of  Kliersa,  the  walls 
of  which  can  yet  be  distinctly  traced.  Directly 
below  Khersa  the  hills  approach  close  to  the  Lake, 
leaving  only  a  narrow  pebbly  strand,  and  liere  the 
slope  of  the  mountain  side  is  so  steep  and  near  to 
the  water  that  a  herd  of  animals  would  be  likely 
in  a  headlong  rush  to  be  precipitated  into  the  sea. 
In  the  mountains  above,  where  in  all  probability 
the  swine  were  feeding,  there  are  numbers  of  caves 
and  also  rock-cut  tombs  where  the  demoniacs  may 
have  lived.    See  art.  Demon. 

LiTBRATORE.— Thomson,  LB  ii.  ch.  10;  Wilson,  Recovery  of 
Jerm.  p.  368  f. ;  Schumacher,  Jaulan,  179  ;  MacCTegor,  The  Rob 
Roy  on  the  Jordan,  p.  422  ff. ;  artt.  '  Gadara  *  ana  '  Gerasenes '  in 
Hastings'  DB  and  in  Encyc.  Bibtica.  J.  SOUTAH. 

GERIZIH. — In  relation  to  the  life  and  teaching 
of  Jesus,  the  interest  of  Mt.  Gerizim  lies  in  its 
being  the  mountain  to  which  the  woman  of  Samaria 
referred  on  the  occasion  when  Jesus  uttered  His 
memorable  words,  '  Woman,  believe  me,  the  hour 
Cometh,  when  ye  shall  neither  in  this  mountain,  nor 
yet  at  Jerusalem,  worship  the  Father'  (Jn  4-'). 

The  establishment  of  Mt.  Gerizim  and  its  temple  a-s  the  saored 
place  of  the  .Samaritans  in  rivalry  to  Jerusalem,  la  bound  up  with 


the  growth  of  the  jealousy  and  hatred  between  Jews  and 
Samaritans,  which  had  attained  such  masinitude  in  the  days  of 
Lord.    The  story  ^iven  by  Josephus  of  the  founding  of  the 

'* ■■".    2-4)  is  that  Maiiasseh, 

Jerusalem,    married    the 
this  marriage    he  was 


high  pr 
■yphal  Jei 


iiple  on  Mt.  Geriznn  (Ant. 

ither  of  Jaddua,  hi 
daughter  of    Sanballat 
threatened  with  e 
thereupon    appeaii 

temple  on  Mt.  Gerizim,  and  made  h 
This  story  *  seems  to  be  derived  from 

account  of  

'  Sanballat"  „  .  „  .     „ 

the  high  priest  was  son-in-law  to  Sanballat,  and 
was  expelled  for  this  'mi.xed  marriage.'  More  reliable,  if  less 
definite,  pround  is  to  be  found  in  2  K  1724-23,  from  which  we 
learn  that  the  king  of  Assyria  sent  back  one  of  the  priests  whom 
he  had  carried  away  from  the  Northern  Kingdom,  to  teach  the 
heathen  peoples  whom  he  had  settled  there  '  the  manner  of  the 
God  of  the  land.'  Thus  the  worship  of  Jehovah  was  preserved 
in  Samaria,  and  gradually  asserted  itself  over  the  '  gocfe  of  their 
own '  which  every  nation  made.  In  the  days  of  Ezra,  when  the 
temple  at  Jerusalem  was  being  rebuilt,  the  Samaritans,  who  are 
called  '  the  adversaries  of  Judah  and  Benjamin,"  desired  to  assist 
in  the  task,  for  they  said,  '  We  seek  your  God  as  ye  do."  This 
request  was  refused  (Ezr  4i-3),  and  thus  the  founding  of  a  rival 
shrine  became  inevitable.    See  also  art.  Samaritans. 

The  claim  of  the  Samaritans,  that  Mt.  Gerizim 
was  the  true  centre  of  the  worship  of  Jehovah, 
rested  upon  a  statement  in  their  version  of  the 
Pentateuch  (Dt  21*'-  where  'Gerizim'  is  substi- 
tuted for  '  Ebal '  of  MT)  definitely  prescribing  that 
an  altar  should  be  built  there.  They  also  sup- 
ported the  claim  of  their  shrine  by  traditions  in 
which  it  was  represented  as  the  mountain  on 
which  Abraham  prepared  to  sacrifice  Isaac  (cf.  G. 
A.  Smith,  HGHL  334,  note),  the  place  where 
Abraham  was  met  by  Melchizedek,  and  also  the 
scene  of  Jacob's  dream. 

Apart  from  such  traditions,  the  position  of  Mt. 
Gerizim  and  its  vis-t't-vis  Mt.  Ebal,  at  the  head  of 
the  pass  leading  right  through  from  the  river 
Jordan  to  the  sea,  and  also  at  the  point  where  the 
great  north  road  from  Jerusalem  to  Galilee  inter- 
sects this  pass,  has  given  them  a  commanding  place 
in  the  topography  of  the  Holy  Land,  and  has  led 
to  their  association  with  important  events  in  the 
history  of  Israel.  Shechem,  which  lay  between 
Mt.  Ebal  and  Mt.  Gerizim,  is  associated  with  the 
entrance  of  both  Abraham  and  Jacob  into  the 
promised  land  (Gn  12^  33'*).  It  was  near  Shechem 
that  Jacob  purchased  the  parcel  of  land  from  the 
children  of  Haraor,  on  which  he  erected  an  altar, 
and  sank  a  well  for  his  family  and  flocks.  It  was 
in  this  parcel  of  land  that  Joseph  was  buried  (Jos 
24^2)  sit.  Ebal  and  Mt.  Gerizim,  again,  were  the 
scenes  of  the  great  inaugural  service  of  all  Israel 
on  taking  possession  of  the  promised  land  (Dt  11^-  ^° 
•27"- '%  Jos  g^^-*").  And  it  was  at  Shechem  that 
Joshua  gathered  together  the  people  for  the  re- 
newal of  the  covenant,  '  and  took  a  great  stone 
and  set  it  up  there  under  an  oak  that  was  by  the 
sanctuary  of  the  Lord  '  (Jos  24'-  '■*).  It  was  on  Mt. 
Gerizim  that  Abimelech,  Gideon's  son,  spoke  his 
parable  of  the  trees  (Jg  S^i  9^- ''■"').  It  was  at 
Shechem  also  that  all  Israel  gathered  to  make 
Rehoboam  king  (1  K  12'),  and  this  was  the  original 
capital  of  the  Northern  Kingdom. 

In  order  to  understand  the  significance  of  the 
question  which  the  woman  put  to  Jesus  at  the 
well  ( Jn  4-°),  it  is  necessary  to  remember  that  she 
must  have  been  well  instructed  in  the  notable 
history  of  Mt.  Gerizim,  and  would  accept  all  the 
traditions  of  her  people  without  question.  At  the 
same  time  her  own  religious  faith  was  probably 
bankrupt.  She  had  not  found  God  on  Mt.  Gerizim. 
There  is  a  vein  of  scepticism  in  her  words,  as  of 
one  who,  having  lost  personal  faith,  points  with 
scorn  to  the  differences  of  those  who  worship  the 
same  God.     Yet  even  in  her  scepticism  there  is  a 

pparent  tliat  this 
a  living  message  for  her.     On 
tion  involved  Jesus  pronounces  quite  definitely  in 
V.--,  but  not  before  He  has  lifted  the  whole  subject 


GESTURES 


GESTURES 


645 


out  of  this  barren  controversy  and  set  it  in  relation 
to  the  fundamental  principles  of  His  teaching. 
There  is  embedded  in  the  very  beginning  of  the 
Samaritan  worship  of  Jehovah  the  idea  that 
Jehovah  is  the  'God  of  the  land'  (2  K  17-"),  and 
throughout  the  whole  controversy  between  Jeru- 
salem and  Mt.  Gerizim  there  is  to  be  found  the 
assumption  that  His  worship  must  have  a  local 
centre.  To  this  Jesus  makes  answer,  '  God  is 
Spirit. '  It  follows  at  once  from  this  fundamental 
idea  of  the  true  nature  of  God  that  the  essential 
quality  in  worship  which  is  acceptable  to  Him  is 
not  the  place  where  it  is  oft'ered,  but  the  disposition 
of  the  worshipper.  Wendt  points  out  that  our 
Lord's  teaching  in  this  passage  as  to  the  true 
nature  of  worship  is  a  corollary  of  His  teaching  in 
the  Sermon  on  the  Mount,  that  the  heart  (the 
whole  inward  nature)  is  the  true  seat  of  the 
righteousness  of  the  people  of  God.  So  that  for 
the  ethical  expansion  ot  Jn  4^^-  '^  we  naturally 
turn  to  Mt  5-7,  even  as  in  Jn  4-''  we  find  the  great 
doctrinal  foundation  alike  of  right  conduct  and 
right  worship. 

Literature.— Stanley,  SP  v. ;  G.  A.  Smith,  HGHL  120,  332  ; 
Schurer,  HJP  n.  i.  6  ;  Muirhead,  Times  of  Christ,  108 ;  Dods, 
*  St.  John '  in  Expos.  Bible,  ix.  and  x. ;  Wendt,  Teaching  of 
Jesjis,  i.  320  ;  artt.  '  Gerizim '  and  '  Shcchem '  in  Hastings'  DB ; 

'   ■  Andrew  N.  Bogle. 


GESTURES.— Dr.  Johnson  defines  'gesture'  as 

(1)  'action   or  posture  expressive  of  sentiment'; 

(2)  'movement  of  the  bocly.'  Adopting  these  de- 
finitions, we  may  consider  the  significance  of  the 
gestures  recorded  or  implied  in  the  Gospels. 

1.  Christ  heals  of  blesses  with  an  outward 
gesture.— In  most  of  these  cases  the  gesture  is 
probably  intended  to  confirm  faith  ;  a  visible  sign 
accompanies  the  action.  Thus  (ft)  we  read  of  our 
Lord  taking  the  sick  person  by  the  hand,  as  in  the 
case  of  Simon's  wife's  mother  (Mk  P'  and  ||  Mt.), 
Jairus'  daughter  (Mk  5"  and  ||  Mt.  Lk.),  and  the 
child  with  the  dumb  spirit  (Mk  9^7).  Similarly  St. 
Peter  takes  by  the  hand  tlie  man  at  the  gate  of 
the  temple  and  Tabitha  (Ac  3' g").  Dr.  Swete 
(on  Mk  9^)  suggests  that  this  gesture  Avas  used 
when  great  exhaustion  had  preceded,  (b)  Jesus 
lifted  up  His  hands  to  bless  (Lk  24'").  (c)  Jesus 
stretched  forth  His  hand  to  heal,  and  touched  or 
laid  hands  on  the  sick,  as  in  the  case  of  the  leper 
in  Mk  !«'  (and  ||  Mt.  Lk.).  In  Ac  i^"  the  Apostles 
speak  of  God  the  Father  .stretching  forth  His  hand 
to  heal.  Other  instances  of  Jesus'  touching  the 
patients,  doubtless,  as  a  rule,  to  confirm  their  faith, 
are  :  the  blind  men  in  Mt  ff^  20^  (the  parallels  to 
the  latter  in  Mk.-Lk.  mention  no  touching),  the 
bier  on  which  the  widow's  son  at  Nain  lay  (Lk  7"), 
the  woman  with  the  spirit  of  infirmity  (Lk  13"), 
perhaps  the  dropsical  man  (Lk  14'',  see"  Plummer, 
til  loc),  Malchus  (Lk  22»i,  the  only  account  of  this 
healing).  Further,  St.  Luke  speaks  of  a  large 
number  of  sick  folk  brought  to  our  Lord  at  sunset, 
when  He  '  laid  his  hands  on  every  one  of  them 
and  healed  them'  (Lk  4",  not  ||  Mt.  Mk.).  The 
healings  by  anointing  would  also  involve  a  touch, 
as  by  the  Twelve  (Mk  6"),  or  in  the  case  of  the 
blind  man  anointed  \vith  clay  (Jn  9")  ;  cf.  Ja  5" 
for  tlie  custom  in  the  Apostolic  Church.  Similarly 
we  read  of  the  sick  touching  Jesus, — the  woman 
with  tlie  issue  of  blood  (Mk  5="  and  1!  Mt.  Lk.),  the 
si(!k  at  Geiniesaret  and  the  neighbourhood  (Mk  6°* 
and  II  Mt.);  and  St.  Luke  (6")  says  that  'all  the 
multitude  sought  to  touch  Him,  for  power  came 
forth  from  him  and  healed  them  all. '  'This  '  touch ' 
of  the  Lord  is  recalled  by  the  cures  that  are  recorded 
to  have  been  worked  by  handkerchiefs  or  aprons 
carried  away  from  the  body  of  St.  Paul  (Ac  19"), 
and  by  the  shadow  of  St.  Peter  (Ac  5'^,  where  it  is 
implied  that  many  tried  to  touch  him).     And  inas- 


much as  the  Apostles  would  follow  the  example  of 
Jesus  in  lesser  and  greater  things  alike  (cf.  Ac  4'^), 
we  find  that  they  adopted  His  gestures,  whether 
for  healings  or  for  invocations  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  or 
even  in  speaking.  For  the  touching  by  laying  on 
of  hands,  see  Ac  6«  8"'-  13^  19«  and  9'«  28^  ;  the  last 
two  are  cases  of  healing,  (rf)  Jesus  laid  on  hands 
to  bless,  as  in  the  case  of  the  little  children  (Mk 
10'^  and  II  Mt. ).  We  read  twice  in  Mk.  of  our  Lord'.s 
taking  children  in  His  arms  (Mk  9'"  10'"  ivayKoKi- 
crdfievos),  a  gesture  ascribed  to  Him  in  Mk.  only, 
though  a  similar  phrase  is  used  of  Simeon  in  Lk 
2^^  iS4(aTo  aiirb  eh  ras  d7K(iXas  [airov].  In  another 
way  we  read  of  Jesus'  blessing  with  a  gesture  of 
the  hand,  as  at  the  Last  Supper  (Xa/Siiv— ei)\o7^(ros, 
Mk  I4»)  and  at  the  meal  at  Emmaus  (Lk  24™- «). 
(c)  Jesus  breathed  on  His  disciples  when  '  sending ' 
them  after  the  Resurrection,  saying,  '  Receive  ye 
the  Holy  Spirit :  whosesoever  sins  ye  forgive,'  etc. 
(Jn  20-'-).  Here  the  gesture  is  of  a  different 
nature ;  our  Lord,  still  using  an  outward  sign, 
makes  it  signify  that  which  is  bestowed— the  gift 
of  the  Spirit  {wpeSfj-a  S.yioi',  without  the  article). 
Breath  is  the  emblem  of  the  Spirit,  and  by  this 
gesture  Jesus  shows  that  the  Holy  Ghost  is  the 
'  Spirit  of  Christ '  as  well  as  of  the  Father  (see 
Westcott,  in  loc. ). 

On  the  other  hand,  in  some  cases  Jesus  healed 
with  a  mere  word.  One  cannot,  indeed,  always 
conclude  that  He  did  not  use  any  outward 
gesture,  such  as  touching,  merely  because  an 
Evangelist  is  silent  on  the  matter  (e.g.  cf.  Mk  10'= 
with  Mt  20^*) ;  but  in  some  cases,  at  least,  Jesus 
healed  in  absence.  The  following  are  examples  of 
cases  where  apparently  no  gesture  was  used :  the 
paralytic  (Mk  2'"  and  ||  Mt.  Lk.),  the  man  with  the 
withered  hand  (Mk  3'  and  ||  Mt.  Lk. ),  the  centurion's 
servant  (Lk  7'"),  the  ten  lepers  (Lk  17"),  the  noble- 
man's son  at  Capernaum  (Jn  4™^).  We  find  the 
same  difference  in  the  healings  in  Acts ;  thus,  in 
g34  J41U  jjQ  gesture  seems  to  have  been  used. 

The  use  by  our  Lord  of  an  outward  gesture  or 
sign  in  His  ministerial  acts  was  only  in  accordance 
with  Jewish  thought.  We  may  recall  Moses 
stretching  forth  his  hand  over  the  Red  Sea  (Ex 
1416.21.86^  cf.  17"  )>  and,  by  way  of  contrast,  the 
stretching  out  of  the  hand  in  OT  as  an  act  of 
punishment  (Ex  7' ;  see  other  instances  collected 
by  Plummer  in  his  note  on  Lk  5").  It  may  be 
thought  that  this  usage  of  Jesus  in  His  ministry 
paved  the  way  for  His  aftenvards  appointing  out- 
ward signs  in  Baptism  and  the  Eucharist,  and  for 
the  Apostles'  employing  them  for  other  Christian 
rites,  such  as  ordination. 

2.  Christ  uses  gestures  to  emphasize  His  words, 
or  as  an  expression  of  emotion.— (")  We  read  of 
the  sfirtr/iituj  forth  if  thr  hand  toward  the  dis- 
ciples wlieii  .ifsiis  claiined  tlu'iii  as  His  mother  and 
His  bretliren  (Mt  12^")  ;  cf.  St.  Paul's  gesture  when 
addressing  Agrippa  (Ac  26').  We  cannot  put 
under  this  head  the  hand  outstretched  in  Mt  14^' 
26^,  as  there  it  does  not  express  emotion  ;  but  we 
may  compare  with  the  above  gesture  the  hands 
outstretched  in  prayer  (1  K  8==,  Ps  28=  134=,  1  Ti  2% 
A  4th  cent,  writer  has  interpreted  our  Lord's 
'  stretching  forth  his  hands'  (cf.  St.  Peter,  Jn  21'^) 
of  His  accepting  suffering  voluntarily  (Testament 
of  our  Lord,  i.  23).  (b)  We  read  of  many  gestures 
with  the  eyes.  Jesus  looked  up  to  heaven  at  the 
miracle  of  the  feeding  of  the  five  thousand  (Mk 
G'"  and  ||  Mt.  Lk.),  in  His  last  prayer  before  going 
to  Gethsemane  (Jn  17"),  at  the  healing  of  the  deaf 
man  with  an  impediment  (Mk  7"),  and  the  raising 
of  Lazarus  (Jn  If').  It  is  doubtless  due  to  the 
first  two  of  these  passages  that  we  find  in  many 
ancient  Liturgies,  from  the  Apostolic  Constitutions 
onwards,  this  gesture  ascribed  to  our  Lord  when 
He  consecrated  the  Eucharist— as  in  the  Greek  St. 


646 


GESTURES 


GETHSEMANE 


James  (in  tlie  Syriac  St.  James  it  is  only  implied), 
St.  Mark  both  Greek  and  Coptic,  Abyssinian  (or 
Ethiopic),  St.  Basil,  Koman  and  Ambrosian.  The 
gesture  is  one  of  prayer,  and  implies  that  prayer 
accompanied  the  actions  described  (see  Job  22^ ; 
cf.  the  pviblican,  Lk  18'^).  Again,  the  refer- 
ences to  the  '  glance '  or  '  look '  of  our  Lord  are 
very  frequent.  In  Mk  3*  it  conveys  His  righteous 
anger  ( 11  Lk.  does  not  mention  the  anger).  In  Mk 
3?*  10"  (and  ||  Mt.)  and  Lk  G*"  20",  it  apparently 
emphasizes  the  truth  taught.  In  Lk  22"!  it  brings 
conviction  of  sin  to  St.  Peter  after  his  denials. 
In  Mk  10='  it  is  a  mark  of  love ;  here,  as  so  often, 
St.  Mark  alone  relates  the  feelings  of  our  Lord's 
liuman  soul.  The  glance  to  emphasize  truth  must 
also  be  understood  where  we  expressly  read  of 
Jesus'  '  turning '  to  those  whom  He  is  addressing 
(Mk833,  Lk  T  9=5  etc.).  On  the  other  hand,  no 
special  significance  must  be  attached  to  passages 
where  our  Lord's  '  look '  is  mentioned,  but  where 
it  was  merely  that  He  might  see,  as  Mk  5'=  (and  H 
Mt.),  Lk  19'  21'.  Corresponding  with  this  gesture 
of  Jesus  is  the  keen  '  gaze '  or  '  fastening  of  tlie 
eyes '  which  we  read  of  in  the  case  of  the  people  of 
l^azareth  (Lk  4=»),  the  maidservant  (Lk  22"'),  St. 
Peter  (Ac  S\  cf.  S'^),  the  Sanhedrin  (Ac  6'^),  St. 
Stephen  (Ac  V^),  Cornelius  (Ac  10''),  St.  Paul  (Ac 
139  149  23')— all  having  dre^ffeii-,  one  of  St.  Luke's 
favourite  words  ;  in  the  case  of  St.  Paul  it  is  diffi- 
cult to  reconcile  with  the  idea  that  the  '  stake  in 
the  flesh '  was  ophthalmia,  (c)  The  gesture  of 
kneeling  or  prostration  is  mentioned  only  once  of 
our  Lord,  in  Gethsemane  (Mk  14'''*  and  |1  Mt.  Lk.), 
the  first  two  Evangelists  speaking  of  prostration, 
tlie  third  of  kneeling.  As  standing  was  the  usual 
attitude  for  prayer*  (Mk  1P^  where  see  Swete's 
note,  Lk  18"- "),  we  must  interpret  this  kneeling 
or  prostration  as  specially  signifying  deep  distress, 
as  in  the  early  Church  it  signified  special  peni- 
tence, being  forbidden  by  the  20th  canon  of  Nic-ea 
on  festival  occasions  like  Sundays  and  Eastertide 
(so  Tertullian,  de  Cor.  Mil.  3).  And  so  it  was 
significant  of  deep  distress  in  the  case  of  St. 
Stephen  (Ac  7'"),  and  probably  of  St.  Peter  when 
he  raised  Tabitha  (Ac  9")  ;  in  the  case  of  St.  Paul's 
farewells  it  would  be  due  to  the  great  solemnity  of 
the  occasion  (Ac  205«  2P,  cf.  also  1  K  8",  Ezr  9^ 
Dn  6'",  Eph  3'*).  Nevertheless,  the  usual  standing 
to  pray  would  not  preclude  the  gesture  of  prostra- 
tion at  intervals  to  express  special  devotion,  as  is 
the  case  to  this  day  amoiiL;  all  Ivistcrn  Christians. 
To  signify  reverence  tin-  ji-tinr  nf  kneeling  or 
prostration  is  frequently  11:1.  i  i-i<l  m  the  Gospels. 
We  read  of  many  thus  kiH-clin;;  tn  Jesus — the 
leper  (Mk  1«  and  II  Mt.  Lk.),  demoniacs  (iMk  3"  5"), 
Jairus  (Mk  5^=  and  |1  Mt.  Lk.),  the  Syrophffinician 
woman  (Mk  l'^  and  II  Mt.),  the  rich  young  man  (Mk 
10"),  the  blind  man  (Jn  9="),  Mary  of  Bethany  (Jn 
1P=),  the  lunatic's  father  (Mt  17'^  not  ||  Mk.  Lk.}, 
Salome  (Mt  20™,  not  II  Mk.),  the  Magi  (Mt  2"),  St. 
J'eter  at  the  miraculous  draught  of  fishes  (Lk  5"), 
and  so  the  soldiers  in  derision  (Mk  15"  and  |1  Mt.). 
The  devil  tempts  our  Lord  to  kneel  to  him  (Mt  4" 
and  I!  Lk. ).  The  women  prostrate  themselves  at  the 
tomb  (Lk  24'').  Cornelius  attempts  to  do  so  before 
St.  Peter  (Ac  10=^),  St.  John  before  the  angel  (Kev 
19'°  22").  {(I)  A  gesture  to  emphasize  speech  may 
probably  l)e  understood  in  Mk  12^  where  it  may 
l>e  that  Jesus  pointed  to  the  scribe's  phylactery, 
which  contained  the  words,  'Hear,  O  Israel,'  etc. 
(e)  An  isolated  gesture  is  the  stooping  to  write  on 
the  qrovnd  in  the  '  Pericope  adulterse'  (Jn  'i''--"). 
apparently  signifying  'intentional  inattention.' 
Westcott  (in  /or.)  remarks  that  the  very  strange- 
ness of  the  action  marks  the  authenticity  of  the 
detail.  (/)  We  read  of  gestures  expressing  grief. 
'Our  Lord  sat  to  teach,  the  usual  custom  (Mt  5',  Mk  41,  Lk 
420  53,  Jn  S-,  cf.  Ac  1613). 


Jesus  sighed  at  weakness  of  faith  (Mk  7'''  8'=),  and 
groaned  (or  was  moved  with  indignation,  ene^pifiri- 
aaro),  shuddered  (iripa^ev  eourii'),  and  wept  at 
Lazarus'  grave  (Jn  11^-  ^•^)  •  He  shuddered  at  the 
thought  of  the  betrayal  (Jn  13-'),  and  wept  over 
Jerusalem  (Lk  19^'f). 

To  speak  generally,  it  may  be  noted  that  the 
Fourth  Evangelist  is  more  chary  of  chronicling 
our  Lord's  gestures  than  the  Synoptists.  He 
dwells  rather  on  Jesus'  words  than  on  the  actions 
with  which  He  accompanied  them. 

3.  VariouB  gestures  by  others. — To  an  Oriental 
people,  gesture  is  almost  as  natural  a  method  of 
expressing  the  meaning  as  speech.  We  find  in  the 
Gospels  frequent  references  to  such  a  method  of 
communication.  This  is  not  only  when  no  otjher 
is  possible,  as  when  dumb  Zacharias  makes  signs 
(Lk  1")  and  the  people  make  signs  to  him  (v.*^  : 
perhaps  he  was  also  deaf)  ;  just  as  in  Acts,  St. 
Peter  has  to  make  signs  to  procure  silence  in 
Ac  12",  and  St.  Paul  in  Ac  21^"  and  perhaps  13'". 
But  we  find  such  expressive  gestures  as  shaking 
off  the  dust  (Mk  6"  and  II  Mt.  Lk.  ;  this  is  our 
Lord's  command  to  the  Twelve),  to  signify  the 
dissociating  of  oneself  from  an  ott'ender.  So  Paul 
and  Barnabas  did  at  Pisidian  Antiocli  (Ac  IS'"), 
and  so  Paul  '  shook  out  his  raiment '  against  the 
unbelieving  Jews  at  Corinth  (18*).  Again,  rending 
the  garments  was  a  common  Jewish  gesture  of  con- 
sternation or  grief,  often  mentioned  in  OT  (e.g. 
Gn  37-9-  **,  Jl  2'3)  ;  in  the  Gospels  we  find  it  men- 
tioned only  of  Caiaphas  (Mk  14"^  and  ||  Mt.) ;  in 
Acts  (14''')  only  of  Paul  and  Barnabas  at  Lystra. 
Smiting  the  breast  as  a  sign  of  grief  we  find  in  Lk 
23*  (where  D  adds  to.  /i^ruTra),  and  in  Mt  11" 
(iKdtpaaBe)  and  Lk  18''.  Wagging  the  head  was  the 
derisive  gesture  of  the  passers-by  at  the  Crucifixion 
(Mk  \S^  and  ||  Mt.  ;  cf.  2  K  19-',  Job  16*.  La  2'^ 
Sir  12'*  13').  Pilate's  gesture  of  washing  his  hands 
(Mt  27^)  has  furnished  a  proverbial  saying,  but  it 
was  familiar  to  the  Jews  (Dt  21«).  The  kindred 
idea  of  washing  the  hands  to  express  innocency  (i.e. 
ridding  oneself  of  evil)  is  found  in  Ex  30""-  and  Ps 
26"  73",  and  is  a  great  feature  of  the  Church 
Orders  and  the  great  Liturgies.  Lastly,  we  notice 
the  kiss  as  the  sign  of  love,  real  or  feigned,  as  in 
the  case  of  the  sinful  woman  (Lk  7''*),  of  Judas 
(Mk  14«  and  ||  Mt.  Lk.),  and  of  tlie  Ephesian  elders 
(Ac  20^').  It  is  true  that  the  kiss  was  the  ordinary 
way  of  greeting  a  Rabbi  (see  Swete  on  Mk  14"), 
but  in  all  these  cases  much  more  than  ordinary 
courtesy  is  intended  by  the  gesture,  and  nrobably 
KaTo^iXei'i'  in  these  passages  means  '  to  kiss  fer- 
vently,' or  (in  the  case  of  Judas)  'ostentatiously.' 
For  tlie  kiss  in  OT,  cf.  Gn  29"  S3*  45'^  Ex  18',  1  S 
20*',  2  S  15M9'9  20',  many  of  which  passages  speak 
of  kisses  of  greeting  like  that  of  Judas,  to  wiich 
Joab's  is  indeed  strangely  similar. 

A.  J.  Maclkan. 

GETHSEMAHE  {ree(rvfiai'd,  perhaps  for  [Dj-iDf  nj 
'  oil  pre.ss '). — Gethsemane  is  usually  described  as  a 
'  place '  with  a  garden  attached  to  it ;  but,  .so  far  as 
the  Avords  of  Scripture  show,  it  may  have  been 
simply  a  garden.  St.  Matthew  (26"")  and  St.  Mark 
(14==)  use  the  word  x'^P^oi',  St.  Luke  (22"')  uses 
T67ros,  and  St.  John  (18'),  describing  it  as  6irov  Jiv 
KTJTTot,  refers  to  it  again  (IS")  as  riTros.  It  lay  east 
of  Jerusalem,  across  the  Kidron  (Jn  18'),  at  the 
foot  of  or  upon  the  Mount  of  Olives  (Mt  26*',  Mk 
14=",  Lk22^:  cf.  Euseb.  05=248.  18,  and  Jerome, 
ib.  130.  22).  Tlie  traditional  site  is  in  the  Kidron 
ravine,  at  a  point  about  equidistant,  as  the  crow 
nies,  from  tlie  Golden  Gate  and  St.  Stephen's  Gate. 
It  is  easily  reached  by  the  road  passing  through 
the  latter  and  crossing  the  ^idron  bridge,  just 
beyond  which  it  lies,  a  square  plot  of  ground 
with  eight  very  ancient  olive-trees.  If  the  .state- 
ment of  Josephus  (BJ\l.  i.  1),  that  Titus  cut  down 


GHOST 


GIVING 


647 


all  the  trees  upon  that  side  of  the  city,  be  correct, 
the  tradition  that  those  trees  are  as  old  as  the 
Christian  era,  or  the  tradition  as  to  the  site,  must 
be  abandoned.  Botli  probably  are  unfounded,  and, 
according  to  the  general  consensus  of  opinion,  this 
site  was  fixed  upon  at  the  time  of  the  Empress 
Helena's  visit  to  Jerusalem  (A.D.  326). 

The  scene  of  Christ's  agonizing  prayers  immedi- 
ately before  the  betrayal,  and  of  His  betrayal  and 
capture  (Mt  26^-'>\  Mk  14'=-=^  Lk  2239-b4_  jn  jgi-isj^ 
it  had  long  been  a  favourite  resort  with  the  Master 
and  His  disciples  (Lk  21^',  Jn  18=).  See,  further, 
art.  Agony. 

Literature.— Robinson,  SBP'i  i.  234  f.,  270;  PEFSt  (1887) 
pp.  161, 159,  (18S9)  p.  176  ;  Conder,  Bible  Places,  204  ;  Le  Camus, 
Voyage  aux  Pays  BibUmtes,  i.  252  ff. ;  art.  *  Gethseniane '  in 
Hastings'  DB  (by  Conder)  and  in  Emyc.  Bibl.  (by  L.  Gautier)  ; 
art.  'Tlie  House  ot  Gethaemane '  in  Expositar,  iv.  iii.  [1891]  220- 
232  (by  E.  Petavel).     On  the  form  of  the  name  see  Dalman, 

from.  152.  John  Muie. 

GHOST. — Used  in  the  Gospels  only  in  the  phrases 
'  giving  up  the  ghost '  and  '  Holy  Ghost ' :  a  sur- 
vival of  the  meaning  commonly  associated  with  it 
in  the  times  of  the  translators,  when  it  was  used 
as  equivalent  to  '  spirit '  (Germ.  Gcist).  The  usage 
of  the  word  '  ghost '  as  equivalent  to  '  spirit '  has 
become  archaic.  The  meaning  now  uniformly 
given  to  it  makes  its  continued  use  in  our  RV 
inexpedient.  This  was  recognized  by  the  American 
Revisers,  who  substituted  '  Holy  Spirit '  in  every 
instance  for  '  Holy  Ghost.'  See,  further,  artt. 
Holy  Spirit,  Spirit. 

A.  Mitchell  Hunter. 

GIFT. — Christ  continually  reminds  His  disciples 
that  the  Father  is  the  source  of  all  gifts.  To  Him 
we  must  trustfully  turn.  'Ask,  and  it  shall  be 
given '  (Mt  V)  ;  '  fiveryone  that  asketh  receiveth  ' 
(Lk  11'°),  and  not  only  'daily  bread'  (Mt  6",  Lk 
IP),  but  'whatsoever'  is  asked  (Jn  15"^  16=").  He 
Avill  never  refuse  the  gift  of  the  Holy  Spirit  to  them 
that  ask  (Lk  U"-",  Mt  7"),  for  it  is  His  'good 
pleasure'  to  give  them  'the  kingdom'  (Lk  12^^). 
When  Christ  has  ascended,  it  is  the  Father  who 
will  send  '  another  Comforter '  ( Jn  14'")  ;  and  when 
trials  and  persecution  shall  arise,  it  is  the  Father 
by  whom,  Christ  says,  '  it  shall  be  ffiven  you  in 
that  hour  what  ye  shall  say '  (Mt  10'").  We  see 
this  confidence  inspiring  the  multitude  to  glorify 
God  '  which  had  given  such  power  unto  men '  in  the 
healing  of  the  palsied  man  (Mt  9'),  and  making 
the  practical  Martha  say,  '  I  know  that  whatso- 
ever thou  shalt  ask  of  God,  God  will  give  unto 
thee'(JnlP=). 

It  is  notable  that  Christ's  only  recorded  request 
for  a  personal  favour  should  have  been  the  occasion 
of  tliat  deep  saying  concerning  '  the  gift  of  God ' 
(Jn  4'°).  The  word  used  (tt);/  Swpeav)  implies  a  pe- 
culiar freedom  in  the  giving  ;  something  of  bounty 
not  to  be  purchased.  It  is  used  nowhere  else  in  the 
Gospels  (save  in  the  OT  quotation  In  Jn  IS^'^) ;  but 
in  the  Acts  and  Epistles  it  usually  occurs  as  the 
distinguishing  word  for  God's  highest  gifts,  as  of 
grace  itself  (Eph  3'),  of  the  '  heavenly  gift '  (He  6*), 
of  the  '  unspeakable  gift '  (2  Co  9'*),  of  the  saving 
power  of  Christ's  life  and  death  (Ro  5'*),  ot  Christ 
in  us  (Eph  4'),  or  of  the  Holv  Spirit  (Ac  2^  8™  10« 
11").  In  Jn  4'"  some  hold  that  our  Lord  spoke  of 
Himself  as  '  the  gift  of  God '  (cf.  Jn  3'"),  others 
that  He  meant  the  unique  opportunity  the  woman 
now  had  of  gaining  religious  enlightenment  from 
Him  ;  and  the  two  ideas  blend  in  His  words.  But 
the  uppermost  thought  would  be  the  parabolic  sug- 
gestion of  the  water  for  which  Jesus  had  asked, 
and  '  the  gift  of  God '  would  most  naturally  be  that 
'  liWng  water '  which  He  Himself  could  give  her, 
and  wliich  would  .solve  her  dimly  discerned  prob- 
lems of  conduct  and  worship.  The  Jews  had  long 
connected  the  precious  gift  of  '  living  water '  with 


that  ever-new  and  quickening  power  of  the  Spirit 
wliich,  coming  from  God,  can  alone  satisfy  the 
soul's  thirst  for  Him  (Zee  I4«,  Jer  2"  17'=).  So 
Christ  seems  to  use  it  here.  If  the  woman  but 
knew  'the  gift  of  God,'  that  fount  of  the  living 
Spirit  which,  springing  up  within,  and  independent 
of  Samaritan  books  of  the  Law,  is  the  assurance  of 
eternal  life  (v.'''),  and  if  she  could  but  recognize  the 
supremacy  of  love  and  spiritual  power  in  Him  wlio 
was  speaking,  then  she  would  not  hesitate  to  ask 
an  infinitely  greater  gift  than  He  had  asked  of  her. 
Thus  Christ  would  be  the  agency ;  the  Eternal 
Spirit  would  be  '  the  gift.' 

The  greatest  of  all  gifts  would  be  one's  life. 
This  Christ  gave.  All  other  gifts  of  His  are  in- 
cluded in  this.  They  are  the  fruit  of  this  complete 
self-surrender,  which  could  yield  up  all  things  for 
love  of  men.  True,  He  §ave,  and  gives  His  dis- 
ciples, the  unfathomable  gift  of  a  Peace  which  the 
world  could  not  give  (Jn  14"),  a  Rest  for  all  weary 
.spirits  (Mt  11-").  To  His  own  He  is  the  Living 
Water  (Jn  4'^),  the  Bread  of  Life  (6^*').  He  gives 
the  keys  of  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven  (Mt  IB''-*),  the 
new  commandment  of  Love  (Jn  13"'),  and  Life 
Eternal  (10=»).  But  the  higliest  "ift  included 
these  and  more.  It  was  the  gift  of  His  life,  '  a 
ransom  for  many'  (Mt  20=8,  Mk  10*^).  This  He 
ofl'ered  to  the  Eternal  Father,  to  that  Righteous- 
ness whose  final  decision  was  beyond  tlie  Son  of 
man's  bestowal :  '  To  sit  on  my  right  hand,  and  on 
my  left,  is  not  mine  to  give  ^  (Mt  20=",  Mk  10"). 
For  the  gift  of  the  Holy  Spirit  see  art.  Holy 
Spirit.    See  also  art.  Giving. 

Edgar  Daplyn. 

GIRDLE See  Dress,  p.  498''. 

GIVING. — The  duty  of  giving  springs  naturally 
out  of  the  gospel  fact.  Jesus  Christ  is  God's 
gift  (Jn  3'"),  and  wlien  St.  Paul  associates  the 
liberality  of  the  Christians  of  Corinth  and  this 
grace  of  God  (2  Co  9"*),  he  is  true  to  the  mind  of 
Christ.  Giving  and  receiving  are  correlatives : 
'  freely  ye  received,  freely  give  '  (Mt  10* ;  the  endow- 
ment is  of  Divine  power  and  authority,  and  the 
service  is  to  be  as  wide  as  human  need  ;  cf.  Ac  3"). 
Throughout  the  Gospel  nanative  the  welcome  of 
Christ  awakens  generous  impulses.  The  new  re- 
solve of  Zacchfeus  (Lk  19")  is  tlie  free  expression  of 
his  new  life.  The  grace  of  Christ  had  come  near 
to  him,  and  he,  in  that  high  fellowship,  could 
not  but  be  gracious.  So,  generally,  giving  is  the 
necessary  expression  of  Christian  faith  and  love, 
the  spontaneous  outcome  of  Christian  life. 

Almsgiving  is  recognized  by  Jesus  as  a  part  of 
'  righteousness'  (Mt  6"-  RV),  and  the  duty  of  prac- 
tising it  is  often  enforced  (see  ALMSGIVING).  But 
the  care  of  the  poor  by  no  means  exhausts  the 
activities  of  the  generous  spirit.  Treasury  gifts 
for  the  temple  service  were  recognized  by  Jesus 
(Mk  12"  =  Lk  21'),  and  gifts  for  the  upholding  of 
public  worship  are  an  essential  part  of  worship. 

So,  too,  Jesus  accepted  and  lionoured  gifts 
directly  bestowed  upon  Himself.  '  Certain  women 
which  had  been  healed  of  evil  spirits  and  infirmi- 
ties .  .  .  ministered  unto  him  of  their  substance ' 
(Lk  8=^-).  In  the  same  spirit  were  Matthew's  feast 
after  his  call  (Lk  5^),  tlie  anointing  by  the  woman 
of  the  city  (Lk  7""-),  and  the  supper  at  Bethany 
(Jn  12=).  These  were  acts  of  grateful  love,  and 
they  were  welcomed  by  Jesus.  The  incident  of 
the  outpouring  of  the  spikenard  (Jn  12"'-  =  Mt26"-, 
Mk  14"')  is  the  more  significant  because  of  the 
criticism  it  provoked,  and  the  reply  of  Jesus,  '  Ye 
have  the  poor  always  with  you,  and  whensoever 
ve  will  ye  can  do  them  good'  (Mk  14').  Is  there 
here  a  hidden  rebuke  for  neglect  of  opportunities 
ever  present,  on  the  part  of  tliose  wlio  here  pro- 
fessed disapproval  of  waste  ?    Certainly  the  reply 


648 


GIVING 


GLORY 


suggests  tlie  thought  '  that  expenditure  in  one 
direction  does  not  disqualify  for  beneficent  acts  in 
another.  The  willing-minded  will  always  have 
enough  for  all  purposes'  (Expositor's  Gr.  Test.,  iv 
loco).  By  accepting  and  honouring  this  costly  act 
of  thankful  love  Jesus  sanctions  the  utmost  that 
love  prompts.  It  is  in  such  giving  that  the  joy  of 
sacrihce  is  known  and  the  secret  of  Jesus  realized 
—'It  is  more  blessed  to  give  than  to  receive' 
(Ac  2CP). 

But  all  service  is  included  in  Christ's  law  of 
giving,  not  alms  to  the  poor  alone,  but  all  the 
manifold  expressions  of  love,  the  helpfulness  which 
springs  out  of  the  new  family  bond  of  brother- 
hood. How  this  spirit  works  practically  is  illus- 
trated in  the  ministry  of  Jesus.  Once  and  again 
before  His  gracious  acts  of  healing  or  of  bountj',  it 
is  said,  'he  was  moved  with  compassion'  (Mt  9*" 
15",  Mk  6") ;  and  His  fellow-feeling  found  expres- 
sion in  the  sending  forth  of  the  Twelve,  the  feed- 
ing of  the  multitude,  and  in  teaching. 

So  is  it  with  His  disciples.  All  tender  minis- 
tries are  the  expression  of  a  Di\-ine  compassion, 
'  the  exceeding  grace  of  God  in  you  '  (2  Co  9"). 

But  the  law  of  Christian  serWce  goes  beyond 
this.  It  is  founded  in  justice,  the  recognition  of 
the  true  relations  which  men  hold  one  to  another 
in  Christ.  The  second  commandment  of  love  to 
our  neighbour  (Mt  19"  22^')  and  the  parable  of  the 
Good  Samaritan  (Lk  lO*"')  teach  the  true  inward- 
ness of  generosity. 

True  helpfulness  is  that  which  is  due  from  one 
man  to  another  because  of  the  ties  of  humanity. 
Hence  the  personal  equation  in  beneficence.  All 
true  giving  resolves  itself  into  self-giving,  the 
expression  of  sympathy,  reverence,  attection,  the 
charity  of  personal  care  and  thought  (Lk6'"'").  It 
is  this  service  of  man  as  man,  and  because  of  the 
ties  of  a  Divine  humanity,  which  is  the  service  of 
Christ.  'Ye  did  it  unto  me'  (Mt  25*')  covers  the 
whole  ground. 

But  while  it  is  ever  true  that '  money  values  are 
not  the  standard  of  gifts  in  the  Kingdom  of  God,' 
this  must  not  be  pressed  so  as  to  minimize  gifts  of 
money.  These  must  often  measure  '  the  moral 
value  of  the  giver.'  Indeed,  this  is  the  lesson  of 
the  Treasury  (Lk  21*),  they  'of  their  superfluity,' 
she  'of  her  want. '  The  frequent  references  to 
money  in  the  Gospels  show  tlie  importance  which 
Jesus  attached  to  this  factor  in  life.  The  steward- 
ship of  allpossessions  is  taught  in  the  parable  of 
the  Rich  Fool  (Lk  12>«''- ;  for  'rich  towards  God' 
of.  1  Ti  6'"').  Judgment  is  pronounced  upon  the 
selfish  use  of  wealth  in  the  parable  of  the  Rich 
Man  and  Lazarus  (Lk  IB''"-)-  Hence  the  warnings 
against  covetousness  (Lk  12'^).  Giving,  thus  exer- 
cised, becomes  a 'means  of  grace,'  by  which  the 
heart  is  cleansed  (Lk  ll'"  ;  a  suggestive  rendering 
of  this  saying  is  given  in  Expositor,  II.  v.  [1883], 
318,  'but  as  to  what  is  within,  give  alms,  and 
behold  all  things  are  clean  unto  you '). 

The  test  of  the  young  ruler  (Lk  18--)  is  not  so 
much  '  a  counsel  of  perfection '  for  all,  as  the  word 
in  season  for  the  individual.  The  general  lesson 
on  wealth  and  its  uses  is  in  the  parable  of  the 
Unjust  Steward  (Lk  16").  Confessedly  difficult 
of  interpretation  as  this  parable  is  in  detail,  its 
main  lesson  can  hardly  be  overlooked — Heaven, 
which  cannot  be  bought  by  gold,  may  yet  be  pre- 
pared for  by  the  best  uses  of  wealth.  Tlie  giving 
of  money  by  men  who  know  its  value,  and  whose 
keenest  activities  are  directed  to  get  it,  is  a  search- 
ing test  of  their  self-denial  and  devotion.  True 
liberality  is  the  Divinely  appointed  safeguard 
against  covetousness,  with  this  caution,  '  to  whom- 
soever much  is  given,  of  him  shall  much  be  re- 
quired '  (Lk  12<«). 

The  question  of  definite  '  proportionate  giving ' 


may  be  briefly  dismissed.  It  has  been  sought  to 
press  the  law  of  a  tenth  as  binding  upon  all,  and 
the  words  of  Jesus  (Mt  23^)  are  quoted  in  support. 
But  tlie  ground  is  insufficient.  An  incidental 
reference  cannot  set  aside  the  whole  spirit  of  the 
Gospel.  Any  rule  imposed  from  without  is  alien 
to  the  free  spirit  of  love.  Rules  wliich  the  indi- 
vidual may  lay  down  for  his  own  guidance  are  for 
the  indi>ddual  conscience  to  determine,  but  'the 
Christian  law  is  the  spirit  of  Clirist,  that  Enthusi- 
asm of  Humanity  which  He  declared  to  be  the 
source  from  which  all  right  action  flows'  (Ecce 
Homo).  '  Charity  has  no  other  limit  than  charity 
itself '(Godet).     Cf.  Lk  G*). 

LrrERATCRK. — Ecce  Homo,  ch.  xvii. ;  Bruce,  Parabolic  Teach- 
inq,  p.  371  f. ;  Westcott,  Inca-niation  and  Common  Life,  p.  195  f. ; 
Gladden,  The  Christian  Pastor,  p.  371  f.;  Ruskin,  Seven  Lamps 


GLAD  TIDINGS.— See  Gospel. 

GLORY.— There  are  few  cociimoner  words  in  the 
English  Bible  than  '  glorj','  and  few  more  difficult 
of  definition.  The  word  appears  on  the  surface  to 
be  used  in  a  strange  variety  of  meanings  and  ap- 
plications, and  with  both  good  and  bad  connota- 
tion. Reputation,  praise,  honour  (true  and  false), 
splendour,  light,  perfection,  rewards  (temporal 
and  eternal)— all  these  varying  conceptions  seem 
covered  by  the  same  word. 

Nevertheless  the  underlying  thought  is  simpler 
than  would  appear.  In  the  OT  a  large  number  of 
words  are  translated  in  English  by  '  glory,'  but 
by  far  the  most  common  is  inj,  of  which  the  root 
idea  is  '  heaviness,'  and  so  in  a  metaphorical  sense, 
'weight,' 'worthiness.'  The  LXX  frequently  em- 
ploys do^a  to  translate  this,  as  well  as  a  great 
number  of  other  Hebrew  words  ;  and  Sofa  (with 
its  connected  verb  5o?dfw)  is  the  usual  NT  word 
rendered  '  glory.'  This  word  is  derived,  of  course, 
from  the  root  of  doKia,  '  to  think  or  suppose,'  and 
the  primary  meaning  of  5d?a  is,  no  doubt,  '  thought 
or  opinion,''  especially,  favourable  human  opinion, 
and  thus  in  a  secondary  sense  '  reputation,'  'hon- 
our,' etc. 

But  an  important  new  shade  of  meaning  comes 
into  the  word  when  it  is  used  in  religious  lan- 
guage. The  oo'ta  of  man,  human  opinion,  etc.,  is 
shifting,  uncertain,  often  based  on  error,  and  its 
pursuit  for  its  .ami  -al^-  i- unworthy.  But  there 
is  a  oo'|a  of  (loil  ulii.li  nm-t  ).■  aii-olutely  true 
and  changeh'-^,  lin.!-  '  ciiiinion  '  m.irks  the  true 
value  of  thin--,  a-  tlav  apiirai  i.>  the  eternal 
mind;  and  (ioil  s  ■  fa\  .aiial.l.-  .qiinion'  is  true 
'glory.'  This  rontraM  i-  «,  II  -.■,■„  in  Jn  5*"  12«. 
Hence  'glory,'  mIuiImi  apiiln-.l  t..  God  Himself 
or  to  His  works  a?  >cun  by  llim,  must  imply  the 
absolute  truth  which  unclerlies  all  phenomena. 
This  gives  us  the  connecting  link  between  '  the 
glory  that  cometh  from  God'  and  the  'glorj-' 
which  man  conceives  of  a-s  belonging  to  God  Him- 
self. The  'gloi-y  of  God,'  therefore,  must  mean 
His  essential  and  unchan^ng  Godhead  as  revealed 
to  man.  And  the  familiar  ascription  'Glory  to 
God  '  would  imply  not  only  a  right  human  praise, 
but  the  assigning;  to  God  .'.f  wliat  lie  truly  i".  for 
nothing  higher  can  In'  yivtn  Him.  Similarly  the 
true  'glory'  of  man  or  nature  must  lie  that  ideal 
condition,  that  final  perfection,  which  exists  as  a 
real  fact  in  the  Divine  mind.  The  glory  of  God 
is  what  He  is  essentially ;  the  glory  of  created 
things  is  what  they  are  meant  by  God  to  be, 
though  not  yet    perfectly  attained"  (He  2'°,   Ro 

Passing  on  to  that  which  this  article  is  specially 
concerned  with, — 'What  is  meant  by  the  '  glorj- ' 
and  the  '  glorifying '  of  Jesus  Christ  ?    It  must 


GLORY 


GLUTTONOUS 


649 


mean  (a)  tin-  revelation  of  His  essential  Deity, 
that  whi.  h  He  ix  in  the  mind  of  the  Father, 
though  veilr'l  iniiH  jiian  by  the  limitation  of  the 
Incarnatici!  See  '-i  l7^  He  P,  1  Co  2",  Ja  2'. 
(6)  The  revelation  ot  the  ideal  and  perfect  con- 
dition of  Imman  nature,  as  elevated  by  its  union 
with  God  in  the  Incarnation  to  that  which  (iod 
means  it  to  be  by  the  law  of  its  creation,  that 
which  already  in  the  mind  of  God  it  essentially  is. 
Then  the  glory  of  Christ  is  the  explanation  and 
justification  of  Gn  1"  (cf.  2  Co  3'*). 

But  besides  this  fundamental  conception  of 
'  glory '  which  springs  out  of  the  primaiy  meaning 
of  the  Greek  word,  it  is  to  be  noticed  that  '  glory  ' 
in  Scripture  usually  carries  with  it  ideas  of  '  light,' 
'splendour,'  and  'beauty.'  Thus  pre-eminently 
'  the  glory  of  the  Lord '  in  the  OT  is  the  visible 
shining  forth  of  light,  by  which  the  Divine  Pre- 
sence is  recognized  by  man,  the  r\yy,y  of  the  later 
Jews.  So  the  '  glory '  appeared  to  Israel  at  Sinai 
(Ex  241''- "),  at  the  door  of  the  Tent  (Lv  9"-^,  Nu 
2410  igi9)^  at  the  dedication  of  Solomon's  Temple 
(1  K  8'"-  "),  in  the  visions  of  Isaiah  (6'"')  and 
Ezekiel  (1=«  3=^  8^).  Similarly  the  Messianic  hopes 
of  Israel  are  expressed  under  the  figure  of  '  glory 
dwelling  in  the  land'  (Ps  85^).  See  artt.  'Glory 
(in  OT) '  and  '  Shekinah  '  in  Hastings'  DB.  Pass- 
ing to  the  NT,  the  same  conception  of  'glory'  is 
seen  in  St.  Luke's  account  of  the  Nativity  (2='). 
And  this  is  brought  into  direct  connexion  with  the 
Person  of  Christ  in  the  narratives  of  the  Trans- 
figuration, especially  in  St.  Luke's  (Q^™-)-  There 
the  '  glory '  of  Christ  shines  forth  visibly  in  the 
dazzling  brightness  of  His  countenance.  It  en- 
compasses the  forms  of  Moses  and  Elijah  (v.'')  ;  it 
even  transfigures  material  objects  like  Christ's 
clothing  (v.-").  With  this  passage  should  be  com- 
pared the  visions  of  Stephen  in  Ac  T''"  ;  of  Saul  of 
Tarsus  (Ac  9^  22i>-"  26i»),  and  of  St.  John  in  Patmos 
(Rev  !»-«). 

A  more  metaphysical  conception  of  the  '  glory  ' 
of  Christ  is  seen  in  St.  John's  Gospel.     Tl 


gelist  may  indeed  be  alluding  to  the  Transflgura- 

'n  1",  and  to  the  visible  glory  (  "  ' 
vision  in  \2*^.     But  in  2"  and  11*  he  is  evidently 


tion  in  1",  and  to  the  visible  glory  of  Isaiah's 
11*  he  is  evidently 
describing  some  revelation  to  the  inward  eye  of 
what  Christ  essentially  is,  some  intuition  of  His 
Divine  power  (only  suggested  by  a  visible  'sign') 
borne  in  upon  the  soul  of  the  believer.  In  Christ's 
words  and  works  His  true  nature,  as  the  '  efful- 
gence' of  the  Father's  glory,  flashes  upon  and 
illuminates  not  the  intellectu.al  faculties  merely, 
but  the  whole  being  of  man,  filling  it  with  the 
sense  of  light  and  beauty  and  satisfaction. 

Thus  we  seem  to  arrive  at  a  conception  of 
'  glory '  which  combines  both  the  ideas  of  dd^a, 
as  '  splendour '  and  as  the  manifestation  of  eternal 
truth  as  it  is  in  the  Divine  mind. 

In  this  sense  Christ  looks  forward  to  and  prays 
for  the  '  glorifying  '  of  Himself  by  the  Father  (Jn 
1331.  32  171. 6. 24]^  -pjjjg  glorifying  is  in  a  true  sense 
accomplished  in  the  Passion,  as  issuing  in  the 
Resurrection,  whereby  the  true  nature  of  Christ 
and  His  redemptive  work  were  recognized  and 
rejoiced  in  by  the  faithful.  There  is  a  '  glory ' 
which  is  yet  to  come,  but  the  present  revelation  to 
the  Church  of  Christ's  glory  is  of  the  same  order 
as  the  future  one  which  will  complete  it  (17-''). 
The  Christian  community,  already  ideally  per- 
fected by  the  separation  of  Judas  ( Jn  13"),  is  hence- 
forth to  recognize  permanently  what  individual 
intuition  had  already  perceived  and  confessed  at 
different  points  of  the  ministry.  And  this  '  glori- 
fying' of  Christ  is  to  be  the  'glorifying'  of  the 
father  (Jn  17'),  for  the  completion  of  Christ's  work 
will  reveal  the  Divine  mind  and  iiurpose  to  the 
Church  ;  and  it  is  also  the  '  glorifying '  of  the 
believer  and  of  the  Church  as  a  whole  (v.--'),  for 


the  Church  will  be  the  permanent  witness  of  God 
to  the  world  (v.  =3),  and  man  in  union  with  Christ 
is  on  the  way  to  attain  the  Divine  ideal  (v.-"). 

The  same  profound  conceptions  of  '  glory '  ap- 
pear in  the  writings  of  St.  Paul  and  St.  Peter. 
The  object  of  the  Christian  calling  is  '  the  obtain- 
ing of  the  glory  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ '  (2  Th 
2''').  The  invisible  '  glory '  of  the  Christian  Church 
through  its  union  with  Christ  by  the  Spirit  is 
greater  than  the  visible  '  glory '  of  the  Old  Cove- 
nant (2  Co  3'").  The  'glory'  of  God  recognized 
in  Christ  by  the  believer  is  a  new  creation  of 
light  (4").  Present  limitations  and  sufferings  will 
be  abundantly  compensated  in  the  full  future 
revelation  of  'glory'  (v.",  cf.  Ro  S"*'^-)-  Indeed, 
the  '  glorifying  '  of  the  believer  is  already  ideally 
complete  (Ro  8™);  it  will  be  visibly  completed  in 
the  Resurrection  of  the  body  (Ph  3-',  cf.  1  P  5>-^). 

In  the  Resurrection  life,  therefore,  Christ  will 
be  seen  and  known  by  all  the  faculties,  the  whole 
being  of  man  redeemed,  as  sharing  fully  and 
essentially  in  the  'glory'  of  the  Godhead.  His 
Divinity  will  be  recognized  in  the  '  glory  '  which 
was  ever  inseparable  from  it ;  His  humanity  will 
be  seen  filled  full,  illuminated  by  its  union  with 
His  Divinity,  'taken  up  into  God'  (Qiticunque 
milt),  and  so  constituting  the  perfect  expression 
and  vehicle  of  His  Divinity  (1  Jn  3").  Hence  in 
the  ideal  and  perfected  Church,  as  described  in  the 
Apocalypse,  both  humanity  and  its  material  set- 
ting are  illuminated  with  '  the  glory  of  the  Lamb,' 
whose  glorified  humanity  is,  as  it  were,  the  '  Lamp ' 
(Rev  21'^)  in  which  shines  the  'glory'  of  the  God- 
head. 

It  will  be  seen  that  this  one  word  '  glory '  is 
really  a  summary  of  the  Divine  purpose  for  "crea- 
tion as  revealed  in  Scripture — 

'  From  Eden's  loss  unto  the  end  of  years.' 
The  '  glory  of  God '  is  revealed  in  the  '  gloi-y  of 
Christ,'  and  both  nature  and  man  are  in  Christ 
progressing  towards  'the  liberty  of  the  glory  of 
the  children  of  God '  (Ro  S-^). 

Literature.  —  Grinim  -  Thayer,  Bihl.-Tlieol.  Lex.  s.v.  iola; 
R.  St.  J.  Parry,  Dismission  of  the  Gen.  Ep.  of  James  (1903),  36 ; 
and  the  Commentaries  on  the  NT  passages  above  cited, 
especiallv  Westcott's  St.  John,  1890. 

A.  R.  Whitham. 
GLUTTONOUS.-In  Mt  ll"  =  Lk  7=^  we  are  in- 
formed that  our  Lord  was  reproached  as  a  glutton- 
ous man  and  a  wine-bibber.  The  Greek  is  alike  in 
both  passages — dv&pwiros  (pdyos  kolI  olvoTrbrrj^.  The 
English  versions  are  probably  right  in  their  render- 
ing of  0070!  and  olvoirbr-qs  as  implying  intemperate 
excess.  But  this  hardly  lies  in  the  words  them- 
selves. 0d7O!  (Liddell  and  Scott,  s.v.)  is  found 
only  in  these  passages  and  in  later  ecclesiastical 
writers.  olvovbTi)%  does  byusage  (not  by  etymology) 
imply  excess  (Anacreon,"  98 ;  Call.  Ej^  37;  Polyb. 
XX.  8.  2).  In  Pr  23^°  it  answers  to  p:  K3b  '  one  who 
is  drunken  with  wine '  (cf.  Dt  21'-",  Ezk  23''-,  Hos 
4'*  for  use  of  the  Heb.  root) ;  and  it  is  parallel  witli 
M^Swos  in  '23='.  _  In  Pr  31-'  (24"-  Swete)  the  verb 
olvoTOT^oi  occurs  in  the  bad  sense.  But  it  is  possible 
that  the  real  force  of  the  insiilt  to  our  Lord  is 
shown  by  Dt  21=".  The  rebellious  son  is  to  be 
brought  by  his  parents  to  the  elders,  to  whom  the 
parents  are  to  say,  '  This  our  son  is  stubborn  and 
rebellious,  he  will  not  obey  our  voice,  he  is  a  riotous 
liver  and  a  drunkard.'  He  is  then  to  be  executed 
by  stoning.  It  is  true  that  the  LXX  here  avn§o\o- 
KOTwp  oli'o'cpXvye'i  has  no  resemblance  to  the  phrase 
in  the  Gosjiels,  but  Pr  23="  has  iJ.riSi  iKrelvov  av/xpo- 
Xait  as  one  half  of  the  doublet,  '  among  gluttonous 
eaters  of  ile.sh  '  (nv?  ■'?^'3) ;  and  in  Pr23'"  Aq.,  Sym., 
Theod.  agree  in  using  the  Deuteronomic  word  ffvfi.- 
j3oXoK67ros  for  bhi.  Delitzsoh  in  his  Heb.  NT  uses  the 
words  found  in  Dt  21=". 


GNASHIXG  OF  TEETH 


GOD 


\Ve  need  not  wonder  at  the  non-agreement  with  the  LXX. 
For  the  discourse  has  several  indications  of  having  been  spolten 
in  Aramaic,  such  as  the  paronomasia  probably  to  be  found  in 
the  cry  of  the  children  (Mt  11*',  Lit  "*-  'danced'  and  'wept'; 
of.  Farrar,  Life  of  Christ,  i.  92;  and  the  Peshitta),  and  the 
variation  i>v"»— '!»•*»  (Mt  1119,  Lk  7^5)  which  is  best  explained 
by  supposing  some  error  in  reading  an  Aramaic  document. 

George  Farmer. 
GNASHING  OF  TEETH  (6  /Spiry^dt  rdv  iUvruv, 
Mt  8'-  13^- *>  22>3  24"  '26^,  Lk  13^). —A  phrase 
describing  a  gesture  which  expresses  mainly  fury 
or  baffled  rage :  Job  W,  Ps  35i«  37",  Ac  7" ;  cf. 
Ps  112"  'The  wicked  shall  gnash  with  his  teeth, 
and  melt  away '  :  but  these  OT  parallels  *  seem 
hardly  sufficient  to  account  for  the  set  form  which 
the  phrase  has  in  the  Gospels.t  The  expres- 
sion occurs  in  every  case  but  one  in  parables  of  tlie 
Last  Judgment,  and  even  that  exception  (Mt  8'-) 
may  be  called  a  parabolic  representation.  This 
does  not  detract  from  the  force  of  the  warning, 
but  rather  the  pictorial  element  is  added  because 
of  the  Speaker's  passionate  desire  to  make  the 
terrific  consequences  of  sin  vivid  and  memorable  in 
order  to  the  salvation  of  those  that  heard  Him,  and 
to  deter  them  and  us  from  the  course  that  would 
lead  to  such  a  fearful  end.  T.  GREGORY. 

GNAT.— See  Ani.mals,  p.  67". 

GOAT.— See  Animals,  p.  63\ 

GOD. — Introduction. — The  sphere  of  the  revela- 
tion of  Jesus  was  limited  to  the  Fatherhood  of  God 
(see  Father),  and  all  His  other  references  to  the 
Divine  Being  are  more  or  less  incidental.  They 
involve  conceptions  which  He  shared  ■n-ith  OT 
prophets,  and  to  some  extent  also  ^\^th  contem- 
porary Judaism  ;  but  the  form  which  some  of  these 
conceptions  take  in  His  teaching,  and  the  relative 
emphasis  which  He  laid  upon  them,  are  modified 
by  that  truth  which  was  central  and  fundamental 
in  His  own  experience  and  thought  of  God.  Jesus, 
in  all  His  references  to  God,  spoke  after  the 
manner  of  a  prophet,  and  not  after  the  manner  of 
the  Rabbis  or  tlie  Christian  theologian.  He  never 
sought  to  prove  the  existence  or  tlie  personality  of 
God.  These  were  invariably  assumed.  He  never 
communicated  any  speculative  views  regarding  the 
nature  or  the  attributes  of  God.  All  that  He 
said  stood  in  direct  relation  to  ri"ht  conduct. 

The  aim  of  the  present  artic'le  is  to  set  forth 
briefly  those  views  of  God,  expressed  or  implied  in 
the  words  of  Jesus,  which  may  properly  be  con- 
sidered apart  from  the  Divine  Fatherhood,  and 
which  are,  to  some  extent,  characteristic  of  Jesus. 

1.  God  is  one.  —  To  Jesus,  as  to  His  people 
through  many  centuries,  God  was  one.  He  did 
not  modify  this  ancient  belief.  To  the  scribe  who 
asked  which  commandment  was  greatest,  Jesus 
quoted  the  familiar  confession  from  Dent,  (e'"-) 
which  begins  with  the  words,  '  Jehovah  our  God  is 
one  Jehovah' (Mk  12^);  and  the  author  of  the 
Fourth  Gospel  represents  Jesus  as  addressing  these 
words  of  prayer  to  the  Father — 'This  is  life 
eternal,  that  they  should  know  thee,  the  only  true 
God'  (rbv  fiivof  dXTjSii'Ji'  eeov,  Jn  17'). 

Jesus  spoke  cf  the  Ilnly  S))iiit  ;  ,iim1  if  llu'ie  is 
any  place  at  whirh  H,-  Mi'L'^'-^t- a  i^i-oiml  .ii-iinc- 

tion  in  theDivini- I'.riii;;,  it  i^hn.-.     |i   :    ■uy, 

therefore,  to  oon-i.li'r  His  wurds  "ii  ilii-  -unjp<'t. 
His  references  to  tlie  Spirit  in  the  oldest  (rtispels 
are  extremely  rare ;  and  in  only  one  instance  do 
all  the  Synop'tics  agree  in  reporting  the  use  of  this 
term.     This  is  the  passage  concerning  blasphemy 

*  0pvy/Mi  !9  used  in  Pr  1912  of  the  roaring  of  a  lion,  and  in 
Sir  513  of  beasts  '  ready  to  devour.' 

t  The  notion  of  some,  that  the  phrase  in  the  Gospels  is  h.-uicd 
upon  a  conception  of  Gehenna  as  a  place  of  extreme  cold,  and 
that  'gna»hing'  =  ' chattering  of  teeth,'  is  very  precarious. 


against  the  Spirit  (Mk  3^,  Mt  1231,  lj^  joio).  There 
are  three  other*  occasions  on  which,  according 
to  one  or  two  of  the  Synoptics,  Jesus  spoke  of 
the  Spirit,  (a)  The  first  of  these  occasions  was 
when  He  spoke  words  of  encouragement  to  His 
disciples  in  anticipation  of  their  future  need  of 
support  when  called  before  governors  and  kings. 
According  to  Matthew  (10™),  He  said  to  them,  '  It 
is  not  ye  that  speak,  but  the  Spirit  of  your  Father 
which  speaketh  in  you.'  In  Luke  we  have  two 
passages  referring  to  the  same,  or  at  least  very 
similar  occasions  ;  one  of  these  speaks  of  the  Holy 
Spirit  (tA  dyioi/  TrfeOna),  while  in  the  other  Jesus  is 
represented  as  saying,  '/  will  give  you  a  mouth 
and  wisdom,  which  all  your  adversaries  shall  not 
be  able  to  Avithstand '  (Lk  12'-  21'*).  Mark  has  a 
similar  word  of  Jesus,  but  puts  it  on  a  difl'erent 
occasion.  The  situation  of  the  disciples  is  the 
same,  and  Jesus  says,  '  It  is  not  ye  that  speak,  but 
the  Holy  Spirit '  (Uk  13").  The  thought  which  all 
the  accounts  have  in  common  is  that  of  Divine 
assistance.  The  agent  who  assists  is  either  the 
'  Holy  Spirit,'  the  '  Spirit  of  your  Father,'  or  Jesus 
Himself. 

(6)  Another  reference  by  Jesus  to  the  Spirit  is 
found  in  His  reply  to  those  wlio  accused  Him  of 
working  in  league  with  Beelzebul.  Here  He  said, 
'If  I  by  the  Spirit  of  God  cast  out  demons'  (Mt 
12^) ;  or,  according  to  Luke,  '  If  I  by  the  jfinger  of 
God  cast  out  demons'  (11™). 

(c)  Finally,  according  to  Mark  (12^),  Jesus  re- 
ferred to  the  llOth  Psalm  as  spoken  in  the  Holy 
Spirit.  Mt.  has  simply  iv  wdii.aTi,  and  Lk.  no 
reference  to  the  Spirit. 

Now  the  language  of  these  passages  does  not 
appear  to  suggest  a  different  view  of  the  Spirit 
from  that  of  the  old  prophets.  If  Jesus  as  a  rule 
represented  His  (disciples  as  dependent  on  the 
Father,  and  the  Father  as  caring  for  them,  and 
then  in  a  single  instance,  when  speaking  still  of 
the  Di\nne  aid,  said,  '  the  Spirit  of  your  Father ' 
or  the  '  Holy  Spirit,'  we  cannot  suppose  that  He 
made  any  personal  distinction  between  them.  His 
word  is  an  echo  of  such  a  passage  as  Is  61'  '  The 
Spirit  of  the  Lord  Jehovah  is  upon  me,'  and  is  in 
part  a  fulfilment  of  the  promise  in  Joel  (2^)  that 
the  Spirit  shall  be  poured  out  upon  all  flesh.  The 
statement  of  Jesus  regarding  the  110th  Psalm,  that 
it  was  spoken  in  the  Holy  Spirit,  is  quite  parallel 
to  this  word  concerning  His  disciples.  It  shall 
be  with  them  as  it  was  with  the  author  of  this 
psalm.  The  Spirit  of  their  Father  will  speak  in 
them. 

Again,  when  Jesus  .said,  '  If  I  by  the  Spirit  of 
God  [or  the  finqcr  of  God]  cast  out  demons,'  it  is 
manifest  that  His  thought  is  that  of  God's  pres- 
ence and  aid.  It  is  like  the  language  of  Micah 
when  he  said,  '  I  am  full  of  power  by  the  Spirit 
of  Jehovah '  (3').  The  Fourth  Gospel  expresses 
the  same  thought  when  it  represents  Jesus  as 
saying,  '  The  i  ather  abiding  in  me  doeth  his 
works'  (Jn  W>). 

Finally,  when  Jesus  warned  the  scribes  and 
Pharisees  concerning  the  irremissible  sin  of  blas- 
phemy against  the  Holy  Spirit,  it  is  obvious  that 
we  cannot  draw  any  personal  distinction  between 
this  Spirit  and  God.  These  men  had  attributed 
the  manifestly  good  work  of  Jesus  to  the  prince  of 
bad  spirits.  'Thus  they  had  wilfully  called  good 
evil  (cf.  Is  5™).  They  had  violated  conscience ; 
they  had  quenched,  at  least  for  the  moment,  this 
inner  and  fundamental  voice  of  God.  This  mani- 
festation of  God  \\-ithin  them  is  called  the  Spirit  of 
God  in  accordance  with  OT  usage,  which  ascribes 
a  spirit  to  Jehovali,  in  and  through  which  He 


r  as  conclusive ;  and  Lk  4is  is  a  quotation. 


GOD 


reveals  Himself  to  the  spirit  of  man  [c.tf.  Is  42' 
63").    See  Unpardonable  Sin. 

The  teaching  of  the  Fourth  Go.spel  (Jn  14-16) 
regarding  the  Spirit  marks  an  advance  on  that  of 
the  Synoptics,  both  in  quantity  and  in  character  ; 
but  this  teaching,  as  it  now  stands,  like  the  other 
discourses  of  John,  cannot  be  attributed  directly 
to  Jesus.  It  appears  to  represent  a  stage  of 
thought  fully  as  late  as  that  which  we  find  in 
Mt  281".  \\^e  need  not,  therefore,  discuss  it  in 
this  connexion,  where  we  are  concerned  with  the 
teaching  of  Jesus.  And  we  conclude  this  para- 
graph with  the  statement  that  there  is  nothing  in 
the  narrative  of  the  genuine  teaching  of  Jesus 
which  suggests  a  modification  of  the  old  prophetic 
conception  of  a  pure  monotheism.  * 

2.  God  is  holy. — The  conception  which  Jesus  had 
of  the  holiness  of  God  is  implied  rather  than  ex- 
pressed in  His  teaching ;  yet  though  not  directly 
stated,  it  is  fundamental,  and  marks  an  advance 
on  the  teaching  of  the  OT.  How  fundamental 
this  conception  was  in  the  teaching  of  Jesus  may 
be  illustrated  from  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount. 
According  to  this,  the  standard  of  the  Kingdom  of 
God  called  for  a  righteousness  that  exceeded  the 
righteousness  of  the  scribes  and  Pharisees  (Mt5-"). 
The  Law  declared  that  a  man  should  not  kill,  but 
Jesus  taught  that  anger  exposed  one  to  the  same 
danger  of  judgment  (v.="-).  The  Law  declared 
against  adultery,  but  He  declared  against  the  lust- 
ful desire  (v.-''-).  Now  this  profounder  conception 
of  sin,  this  attaching  of  the  gravest  penalties  to  the 
secret  feeling  of  anger  and  to  the  unclean  desire, 
implies  a  clearer  and  more  ethical  conception  of 
the  holiness  of  God. 

Again,  Jesus'  sense  of  the  holiness  of  God  is 
reflected  when  He  says  that  it  is  the  aim  of  His 
mission  to  call  sinners  (Mt  9",  Mk  S'^  [Lk  S^^  adds, 
'  to  repentance ']) ;  and  His  feeling  is  still  more 
significantly  seen  in  the  Beatitude  for  the  pure  in 
heart  (Mt  5').  Finally,  the  intensity  of  His  ap- 
preciation of  God's  holiness  may  be  measured  by 
the  severity  of  His  judgment  on  impenitent  sinners. 
One  of  such  tenderness  of  heart  as  Jesus  showed 
in  all  His  relations  to  others — a  tenderness  which 
He  believed  was  an  attribute  of  God — could  not 
have  uttered  such  words  of  judgment  as  Mk  ??^ 
12'  and  Mt  25**,  unless  He  hail  had  an  open  vision 
of  the  Divine  purity. 

It  is  obvious  from  this  brief  survey  that,  to  the 
thought  of  Jesus,  the  holiness  of  God  was  a  funda- 
mental fact,  and  it  is  equally  plain  that  His  con- 
ception of  this  Divine  attribute  was  profoundly 
ethical.  Its  demands  could  not  be  satisfied,  as 
the  scribes  taught,  by  the  performance  of  any 
number  of  statutes.  Ni)thing  liut  a  righteous 
.state  of  the  heart  cduM  satisfy  them.  Jesus 
taught  His  disciples  tu  ask  for  the  jiardon  of  their 
sins,  not  on  the  ground  of  any  fulfilment  of  the 
Law,  any  good  works  of  any  sort,  l)ut  simply  on 
the  ground,  as  far  as  the  human  side  of  the  pardon 
is  concerned,  that  they  themselves  have  a  forgiv- 
ing spirit  (Mt  6'=,  Mk  \l-').  The  ethical  character 
of  Jesus'  conception  of  the  holiness  of  God  is  seen 
also  in  His  own  relation  to  sinners  ;  for  it  is  clcai 
that  His  thought  of  God's  relation  to  sinners  w  as 
illustrated  by  His  own  attitude  toward  them. 
Now  we  are  told  that  He  came  into  personal  con- 
tact even  with  the  worst  of  men.  He  ate  with 
publicans  and  received  liarlots,  having  no  fear  of 
defilement  from  them.  He  represented  God  under 
the  figure  of  a  father  embracing  a  son  who  had 
wasted  his  substance  in  riotous  living  (Lk  15). 

In  the  thought  of  Jesus,  therefore,  the  holiness 

*  The  story  of  the  experience  of  Jesus  at  His  baptism  ia  pro- 
bably to  be  traced  back  to  Himself.  This  speaks  of  a  descent 
of  the  Spirit  and  a  voice  from  God.  It  recalls  Is  611,  and  pre- 
supposes the  same  conception^of  the  Spirit. 


of  God  did  not  imply,  as  with  the  scribes,  that  He 
was  far  removed  from  sinful  men,  being  Himself 
subject  to  defilement.  His  holiness  is  not  ritual, 
but  purely  ethical.  It  is  that  quality  or  side  of 
His  being  which  makes  it  incumbent  on  all  men 
to  '  hallo\y "  His  name  (Mt  6»).  It  is  that  whicli 
defines  His  character  with  reference  to  sin.  It  is 
that  attribute  of  God  which  renders  it  impossible 
to  trace  the  origin  of  evil  up  to  Him.  Jesus  every- 
where assumes  that  evil  originates  either  in  the 
freewill  of  man  (Mk  3^-  -"),  or  with  a  power  called 
the  '  devil '  (Mt  13»')  or  '  Satan '  (Lk  13i«).  It  cannot 
come  from  God,  for  He  is  the  one  absolutely  good 
Being  (Mk  10'«). 

The  conception  of  the  holiness  of  God  involved 
in  the  teaching  of  Jesus,  and  perfectly  illustrated 
in  His  character,  is  thus  seen  to  have  been  funda- 
mental in  importance  and  ethical  in  nature.  It 
has  parallels  in  the  OT,  as,  for  example,  in  Ps  51" 
and  Hab  l'^ ;  but  the  clearness  and  intensity  with 
which  it  is  exjjressed  in  the  Gospels  are  unique. 

3.  God  is  near. — There  is  a  third  feature  of  Jesus' 
thought  of  God  which,  though  wholly  incidental 
and  subordinate  when  compared  with  His  revela- 
tion of  the  Divine  character,  is  nevertheless  so 
conspicuous  that  it  helps  to  mark  oft'  the  Gospel 
from  the  writings  of  the  Old  Covenant,  and  tar 
more  noticeably  from  the  views  of  contemporary- 
Judaism.  This  is  the  conception  of  the  nearness 
or  presence  of  God.  To  a  certain  extent  Jesus 
shared  the  thought  of  His  countrymen,  and  used 
the  current  phraseology  regarding  God's  habita- 
tion. Thus  He  spoke  of  heaven  as  the  throne  of 
God,  and  the  earth  as  His  footstool  (Mt  5«  23^). 
The  idea  of  a  Divine  revelation  clothed  itself  to 
His  mind  in  the  imagery  of  an  open  sky,  the 
descent  of  the  Spirit,  and  a  voice  out  of  heaven 
(Mk  l'"- ").  But  there  is  no  special  emphasis  in 
the  teaching  of  Jesus  on  the  thought  that  heaven 
is  the  dwelling-place  of  God  in  a  peculiar  sense. 
The  emphasis  is  laid  on  another  point,  viz.  the 
practical  thought  of  God's  nearness.  Though  His 
throne  is  said  to  be  in  heaven.  He  is  no  '  absentee ' 
God.  On  the  contrary.  He  is  personally  present 
with  men.  One  may  meet  Hini  in  the  inner 
chamber  (Mt  6").  He  reveals  the  mysteries  of  the 
Kingdom  of  heaven  unto  '  babes  '  (11^).  He 
worked  in  and  through  Jesus  (12^),  and  Jesus  said 
that  God  would  speak  in  His  disciples  (10™).  This 
statement  niay  well  be  taken  as  suggesting  the 
way  in  which  Jesus  generally  conceived  of  God's 
presence  with  men.  It  is  an  inner  spiritual  near- 
ness, a  fact  of  which  the  soul  takes  cognizance, 
and  which  is  manifested  to  the  world  only  through 
the  life  of  the  man  who  realizes  it. 

But  God  is  present  not  only  with  those  beinjjs 
who  are  capable  of  communion  with  Him  :  He  is 
present  also  in  Nature.  He  arrays  the  lily  in 
beauty  (Mt  6=9),  He  cares  for  the  birds  (v.™),  notes 
the  fall  of  a  sparrow  (10^),  and  is  unceasingly 
active  in  works  of  mercy  and  kindness  (Jn  5"). 
How  Jesus  pictured  to  His  mind  this  presence  of 
C!od  in  the  material  world  we  cannot  learn  from 
the  <I(isiip1s.  His  belief  in  this  particular,  as  also 
ill  rc^^ard  to  God's  presence  with  men,  was  probably 
Hkc  that  of  the  Ps.almists  and  Prophets  (see,  e.(f., 
i's  •23-'  139'-'-,  Is  40"  66"),  though  a  more  constant 
and  marked  element  of  His  teaching.  It  was, 
doubtless,  a  consequence  of  His  religious  conscious- 
ness of  God  rather  than  a  product  of  philosophic 
thought. 

LiTERATtTiE.— See  under  art.  Father. 

George  Holley  Gilbert. 

GODS The  single  passage  in  the  Gospels  where 

the  word  Beol  occurs  (Jn  lO"'"-)  affords  an  excellent 
example  both  of  the  style  of  Jesus'  arguments  with 
His  Jewish  adversaries  and  of  His  attitude  to  the 
OT.    The  phrase,  '  I  said,  Ye  are  gods,'  is  a  literal 


652 


GODS 


GOLD 


quotation  of  Ps  82  (LXX  81)'^,  and  is  introduced 
as  such  by  the  word  invariably  employed  for  that 
purpose  {((TTtp  -yiypafiixivov,  cf.  yi-YpairTai.  of  Mt 
43. 6. 7.  lu)  \^  jg  plain  that  in  quoting  these  words 
Jesus  is  arguing  after  the  manner  of  the  well- 
known  argnmentum,  ad  hominem,  from  His  use  of 
the  personal  pronoun  'your,'  as  well  as  from  His 
application  ot  the  title  '  law '  to  the  Psalms  (if  ti? 
vd/MV  ii/iui/,  cf.  Tu  v/j-eripifi  in  8"  ;  and  for  a  similar 
use  of  the  term  'law,'  cf.  Jn  12**  15==).  It  is  an 
appeal  to  authority,  the  validity  of  which  His 
hearers  would  be  the  first  to  recognize.  It  was 
impossible  for  them  to  escape  a  conclusion  so  im- 
mediately the  outcome  of  premisses  universally 
accepted  as  true.  At  the  same  time  it  is  an  argu- 
ment a  fortiori.  If  their  beloved  Law,  to  which 
they  Avere  constantly  appealing,  hesitated  not  to 
designate  as  'gods'  (D'n'jg)  the  judges  whose  par- 
tiality and  injustice  provoked  their  arraignment 
by  God,  and  the  solemn  warning  to  'judge  the 
weak  and  fatherless,  do  justice  to  the  afflicted  and 
destitute  '  (Ps  82^),  surely  the  charge  of  blasphemy 
came  badly  from  those  men  who  recognized  in  this 
Law  their  final  court  of  appeal.  His  claim  to  be 
'the  Son  of  God,'  whom  the  Father,  in  a  unique 
sense,  both  'sanctified  and  sent,'  could  be  judged 
by  His  works,  and  it  was  sufficient  to  contrast 
those  works  which  they  could  daily  witness  with 
the  works  of  men  whom  God  designated  '  sons  of 
the  Most  High '  (fv^j;  -13,  Ps  826). 

Jesus  in  this  place  seems  to  adopt  the  interpretation  of  this 
Psalm  which  is  given  by  the  Targum,  and  which  applies  the 
title  'gods'  to  the  earthly  judges  acting  in  their  capacity  as 
representatives  of  God.  He,  moreover,  countenances  the  ex- 
tension of  the  term  '  Law '  to  other  portions  of  the  OT  besides 
the  Pentateuch.  This  was  a  common  practice  in  the  writ- 
ings of  the  Jewish  Rabbins,  who  spoke  of  'the  threefold  Law'— 
Pentateuch,  Prophets,  and  Hagiographa  (S/tabbath,  SSa).  Com- 
pare also  the  Talmudic  tractate  Sanhedrin,  fol.  91,  92,  for  the 
question  of  R.  Joshua,  '  In  what  manner  is  the  Resurrection  of 
the  dead  proved  from  the  Law  ? '  with  the  answer  that  it  is  said 
in  Ps  84-'  "^They  shall  praise  thee ' ;  not  '  they  have  praised  thee.' 
To  the  same  question  propounded  by  R.  Chaia  the  answer  is 
that  the  Resurrection  is  proved  from  Is  628  (gee  Wiinsche,  Xeue 
Beitrdge  zur  Erldnterung  der  Evangelien  atts  Talmud  und 
Midmsh). 

There  is  another  explanation  current  among  the  Jews  which 
applied  the  term  'cliihim  in  this  place  to  the  Israelites  who  stood 
before  Mt.  Sinai  and  received  the  law  (t^oj  oU  a  i^oyK  tow  tjiou 
iyiviro,  Jn  KJ^^).  If,  said  they,  their  fathers  had  not  sinned 
in  the  matter  of  the  golden  caif,  tlit.-y  wouhl  tia\  e  heen  as  the 
angels;  they  would  neither  Ikim'  k.  ^^.iti  m  .  li:l.li.ti  ni.r  lieeii 
subject  to  death.  For  this  1-  -  1  _  1  itiis 
interpretation,  that  the  Psalm         -  [imti" 

(mtJS  V.7),  in  spite  of  the  f.irl  III  ,i    li - llnusly 

'  ■'        "    see  the  Tal       ■■ 

Lightfoot's  Hor.  Ileh.  et  Talm.,  vol.  iii.  p.  359), 

The  evidential  value  of  the  whole  passage  with 
respect  to  Jesu.s'  attitude  to  the  OT  Scriptures 
will,  to  some  extent  at  least,  be  measured  by  the 
nature  of  the  clause,  '  the  Scripture  *  cannot  be 
broken.'  If  it  is  parenthetical,  we  have  a  direct 
assertion  by  Jesus  that  He  regarded  the  OT  as 
containing  elements  of  abiding  significance,  and, 
moreover,  that  its  meaning  found  its  final  and  true 
explanation  in  His  person  and  life  (of.  Jn  13'*  and 
Mt  5'*  etc.).  On  the  other  hand,  it  is  by  no  means 
certain  that  the  clause  is  of  the  nature  of  a  paren- 
thesis, and  not  dependent  upon  the  preceding  con- 
ditional particle  (ei).  In  this  case  the  sense  would 
be  '  if  tne  Scripture  cannot  be  broken,'  which 
would  have  the  effect  of  i>resenting  the  arijumentum 
ad  hominem  in  a  still  stronger  and  more  merciless 
form.  This  is  again  made  more  forcible  by  His 
use  of  the  emphatic  pronoun  {viieU),  as  if  He  in- 
tended to  say,  '  How  is  it  possible  for  you,  of  all 
people,  in  face  of  the  fact  that  you  assert  the  in- 
violability of  this  passage,  to  find  fault  with  the 
claims  which  I  have  jiut  forward,  and  to  say  that 
I  am  a  blasphemer?'  (see  Plummer  in  Camliridgc 

•  It  is  to  be  noted  here  that  r,  y/mifi  does  not  mean  the  OT  in 
general,  for  which  the  word  would  be  a.!  ypec^eti,  but  refers  to 
the  particular  passage  quoted  (ct.  Jn  20"  2*^  etc.). 


Greek  Test.,  and  Westcott's  Gospel  of  iit.  John, 
ad  loc. ). 

It  might  be  possible  for  an  objector  to  urge  that 
the  whole  argument  was  unworthy  of  the  dignity 
of  its  alleged  Author,  and  Avas  too  like  what  His 
hearers  would  themselves  employ.  On  the  other 
hand,  we  know  that  He  did  not  shrink,  at  times, 
from  meeting  the  Jews  on  their  own  ground  (see 
art.  Accommodation,  p.  19  fl'.),  and  indeed  it  would 
seem  that  He  had  no  option  but  to  do  so,  if  His 
teaching  was  ever  to  penetrate  their  understand- 
ings. Nor  did  He  at  any  time  avoid  confound- 
ing His  adversaries  out  of  their  own  mouth  (cf.  Mt 
22«,  Lk  10^'-  etc.).  At  the  same  time  it  is  evident 
that  there  is  a  profounder  significance  attaching  to 
the  quotation  than  at  first  sight  appears,  and  it  is 
in  this  fact  that  we  have  a  more  certain  guide  to 
the  estimation  in  which  the  OT  writings  were  held 
by  Jesus.  AVhatever  may  have  been  the  personal 
character  of  those  who  were  designated  'elohtm  in 
the  Psalm,  they  were  men  unto  whom  the  word  of 
God  had  come,  and  who  derived  their  title  to  be  in 
a  sense  Divine  from  the  fact  that  God  delegated  to 
them  an  authority  which  was  His  to  give,  and  that 
He  communicated  His  Avill  through  them  to  the 
people  over  whom  they  were  placed. 

"rlie  phrase  6  \6yoi  toO  Beov,  occurring  as  it  does 
in  this  passage,  can  hardly  have  been  recorded  by 
the  author  of  the  Fourth  Gospel  without  a  con- 
scious reference  to  that  Personal  Word,  about 
whom  he  speaks  in  his  Prologue.  The  Logos,  pre- 
existent  and  active,  was  the  means  by  which  God 
was  effecting  the  eternal  movement  of  man  towards 
Himself  and  of  Himself  towards  man.  This  move- 
ment became  finally  complete  in  the  union  of  the 
Incarnation,  when  God  and  man  met  in  an  ever- 
lasting unity  (6  XA^os  aap^  iyivero,  Jn  1").  Nor 
was  this  marvellous  .synthesis  'sprung  upon,'  so  to 
speak,  the  human  race.  It  was  being  foreshadowed 
continually  in  the  OT.  The  prophetic  'Thus 
saith  the  Lord'  (cf.  e.g.  Is  38',  Jer  19',  Hos  4'  etc.) 
was  the  outcome  of  a  consciousness  which  felt  its 
power  to  speak  and  act  as  God's  earthly  repre- 
sentative, and  the  fitness  of  this  claim  is  vindicated 
by  the  oft-repeated  assertion,  'The  word  of  the 
Lord  came  unto  [me]'  (cf.  Jer  16'  10'  9",  Is  8', 
Jl  1'  etc. ;  see  the  emphatic  n;ri  ,Tn  in  Ezk  1',  where 
the  prophet  lays  stress  on  the  reality  of  his  ex- 
perience). 

The  union  of  God  and  man  accomplished  in  the 
'  Word  made  flesh  '  was  indirectly  suggested  in  the 
bold  words  of  the  Psalmist,  '  I  said.  Ye  are  'elohlm,' 
and  it  is  not  difficult  to  believe  that  in  repeating 
this  expression  Jesus  had  in  His  mind  the  realiza- 
tion of  this  profound  idea,  and  that  He  desired 
to  disclose  it  as  an  accomplished  fact  to  those 
who  had  ears  to  hear  and  hearts  to  understand  (Mt 
13'^).  J.  R.  Willis. 

GOLD.— 1.  Value.— The  Bible  references  to  gold 
are  in  terms  of  use  and  abuse,  in  accordance  with 
the  great  fundamental  truth,  'The  gold  is  mine, 
saith  the  Lord  of  hosts'  (Hag  2*).  Being  the  most 
precious  of  metals,  it  represents  the  possession  and 
influence  of  wealth.  It  has  a  central  place  in  the 
trilogy  of  life— length  of  days,  riches,  and  honour 
(1  Ch  29™).  It  seems  to  have  a  purchasing  power 
over  the  other  two — on  the  one  nand  in  securing 
the  conditions  that  tend  to  prolong  life  (Ps  17'* 
73''- '-),  and  on  the  other  by  influencing  opinion  in 
favour  of  its  possessors  (Alt  19^,  Ja  2").  As  the 
highest  quotation  of  earthly  values,  it  supplies  a 
standard  for  estimating  what  surpasses  it  (Job  28", 
Ps  119"'",  Pr  3'*  8'»  16'8,  1  P  V-").  It  is  only 
when,  as  the  most  beautiful  and  precious  material 
available,  it  is  used  to  give  visible  form  to  the 
Divine  glory  that  gold  Ijecomes  a  thing  of  worth- 
lessness  (Ps  115*,  Is  31' 46").    The  blindness  that  led 


GOLDEN  EULE 


GOLDEN  RULE 


653 


to  such  idolatrous  perversion  among  the  Gentiles 
(Ac  17=»)  is  also  found  among  the  Jews  (Mt  23^^  "). 

2.  Associated  evil. — As  the  emblem  of  wealth, 
gold  is  closely  connected  with  that  covetousness  in 
the  will  and  heart  of  man  which  is  described  as 
the  motive  and  meeting-place  of  all  idolatries  (Col 
3^).  Job  can  plead  that  he  has  not  made  gold  his 
hope  (31^).  Solomon  is  commended  because  he  did 
not  make  request  for  riches  (1  K  3").  The  deceit- 
fulness  of  riches  is  given  as  one  of  the  explanations 
of  the  unfruitful  life  (Mt  13-'-).  The  self-centred 
ambitions  and  gratifications  of  wealth  are  all 
against  the  perception  and  service  of  a  Kingdom 
in  which  even  the  poor  seek  the  enrichment  of 
other  lives  (Mk  10",  2  Co  6").  The  order  given  to 
the  disciples  forbidding  them  to  take  gold  or  silver 
Avith  them  on  their  journey  of  proclamation  (Mt 
10'),  was  not  meant  as  a  commendation  of  poverty 
for  its  own  sake.  Indeed,  it  was  just  because 
money,  clothing,  and  the  wayfarer's  staff  were  the 
often-proved  necessaries  of  ordinary  travel,  that 
the  omission  of  tliem  in  their  case  would  impart  to 
their  message  about  the  Kingdom  a  meaning  of 
instantaneousness  and  urgency.  The  guest-law  of 
the  land  would  provide  food  and  shelter  for  the 
passing  stranger ;  and  where  they  were  asked  to 
prolong  their  stay,  those  who  were  thus  interested 
in  their  words  would  attend  to  their  wants. 

After  playing  many  parts,  such  as  being  a 
medium  of  decorative  art,  a  standard  of  value,  and 
a  means  of  good  and  evil  in  society,  along  with 
higher  uses  in  the  coinage  of  empires  and  the 
representation  of  the  Godhead,  gold  renders  its 
last  symbolic  service  in  providing  a  pavement  for 
the  feet  of  the  saints  (Rev  2V^). 

G.  M.  Mackie. 

GOLDEN  RULE, — This  name  is  given  to  a  saying 
of  Jesus  recorded  in  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount. 
In  Mt  7"  its  form  is  fuller  and  probably  more 
original  than  in  Lk  6^'.  The  omission  of  the 
sentence,  '  for  this  is  the  law  and  the  prophets,'  by 
the  Gentile  Evangelist,  is  in  accord  with  the  pur- 
pose of  his  Gospel ;  other  variations  may  be  due 
either  to  changes  made  in  the  course  of  oral  trans- 
mission, or  to  divergences  in  two  translations  into 
Greek  from  the  Aramaic.  The  two  versions  of 
the  saying  are  as  follows  : 

Mt  712  '  AH  things  therefore  whatsoever  ye  would  that  men 
should  do  unto  you,  even  so  do  ye  also  unto  them :  for  this  is 
the  law  and  the  prophets. ' 

Lk  631  ■  And  as  ye  would  that  men  should  do  to  you,  do  ye 
also  to  them  likewise.' 

The  saying  is  rightly  called  a  rule,  for  it  lays 
down  a  general  principle  for  moral  guidance,  and 
furnishes  a  ready  test  of  the  social  value  of  words 
and  deeds.  But  it  presupposes  an  ideal  of  social 
well-being  which  determines  the  end  of  conduct ; 
its  function  is  to  prescribe  means  for  the  attain- 
ment of  that  end.  To  the  disciples  of  Christ  the 
coming  of  the  Kingdom  of  God  is  the  supreme 
end  ;  for  them  this  saying  is,  therefore,  the  golden 
rule,  furnishing  a  standard  of  excellence  whose 
practical  value  consists  in  its  universal  applica- 
bility. Interpreted  in  the  spirit  of  Christ,  the  rule, 
'  Do  as  you  would  be  done  by,'  implies  the  em- 
bodiment in  action  of  the  prayer,  '  Thy  will  be 
done,  as  in  heaven,  so  on  earth ' ;  they  who  walk 
by  this  rule  are  doing  all  that  in  them  lies  to  bring 
in  the  Golden  Age.  Disparagement  of  the  saying 
is  tlie  result  either  of  failure  to  fathom  the  depths 
of  its  meaning,  or  of  the  rejection  of  Christ's  teach- 
ing in  regard  to  the  blessedness  in  which  all  men's 
good  consists. 

The  interpretation  of  the  Golden  Rule  is  little,  it  at  all, 
affected  by  the  connexion  of  thought.  In  the  two  Gospels  the 
context  varies.  Wendt  follows  Luke's  order,  though  this 
necessitates  the  reference  of  '  therefore  '  in  Mt  712  to  Mt  &*i— 
which  corresponds  to  Lk  630.      On  this  supposition 


the  word  'therefore' 


appear  superflu 


Zahn 


rejects  it  ou  slight  MS  authority,  because  it  seems  to  introduce 
a  summary,  which  he  regards  as  out  of  place  here  (N^  L  minn. 
SyrPfii  om.  oSV).  Yet  Bengel's  pithy  comment,  '  Imitate  the 
Divine  goodness,'  suggests  a  natural  link  with  the  previous 
verse;  as  the  Father  gives  'good  things'  to  His  children  in 
response  to  the  jirayer  which  expresses  desire  to  receive  thera, 
so  the  motive  of  His  children's  actions  should  be  a  wish  that 
others  may  share  in  the  enjoyment  of  those  good  things  from 
above.  Another  interpretation  which  preserves  the  unity  of 
the  Sermon  on  the  Mount  is  that  our  Lord  followed  His  en- 
couragement to  prayer  by  the  reminder  that  if  prayer  is  to  be 
heard  there  must  be  a  good  life  (Chrysostom).  It  is  e(|\ially 
true,  however,  that  the  good  life  is  impossible  without  prayer'; 
the  Father  hears  us  when  w-e  ask  His  help,  '  there/ore  the  most 
difficult  duties  of  unselfish  brotherly  love  to  'men  become 
possible  to  us  '  (Dykes,  Manifesto  of  the  Kiiitj,  p.  572).  The  two 
views  are  complementary  and  not  mutually  exclusive.  If  we 
are  doing  unto  others  as  Christ  would  have  us  do.  He  assures 
us  that  His  Father  will  hear  our  prayers  ;  on  the  other  hand, 
if  we  wUl  pray.  He  assures  us  that  His  Father  will  bestow  the 
gifts  of  grace  which  will  enable  us  to  walk  in  love.  In  our 
Lord's  farewell  discourse  there  is  a  similar  interdependence  of 
thought.  Communion  with  the  Father  in  Christ's  name  is  a 
means  to  an  end,  even  the  bearing  of  much  fruit  (Jn  167f.)  ;  on 
the  other  hand,  it  is  to  disciples  whose  lives  are  fruitful  that 
the  promise  of  receiving  what  they  ask  is  given  (v.lti). 

The  Golden  Rule  is  not,  as  some  philosophers 
have  held,  a  mere  law  of  nature.  Nevertheless,  at 
the  basis  of  this  contention  there  lies  a  truth,  well 
expressed  by  Wesley :  '  It  commends  itself,  as 
soon  as  heard,  to  every  man's  conscience  and 
understanding ;  insomuch  that  no  man  can  know- 
ingly offend  against  it,  without  carrying  his  con- 
demnation in  his  own  breast '  {Sermon  xxx.  §  22). 
Hobbes  declares  that  moral  regulations,  which  he 
calls  '  immutable  and  eternal  laws  of  nature,'  may 
all  be  summarized  in  the  simi>le  formula,  '  Do 
not  that  to  another  which  thou  wouldest  not;  have 
done  to  thyself.'  '  It  is  clear,'  as  Sidgwick  points 
out  {ITist.  of  Ethics'',  p.  167  n.),  '  that  Hobbes  does 
not  distinguish  this  formula  from  tlie  well-known 
"golden  rule"  of  the  Gospel, — cf.  Leviathan,  ch. 
XV.  p.  79,  and  ch.  xvii.  p.  85, — whereas  the  formula 
above  quoted  is,  of  course,  the  golden  rule  taken 
only  in  its  negative  application,  as  prescribing 
abstinences,  not  positive  services.' 

In  its  negative  form  the  saying  is  found  in  both 
Jewish  and  pagan  sources  before  the  Christian  era. 
Tobias  is  admonished  by  his  father  Tobit  to  love 
his  brethren,  '  and  what  is  displeasing  to  thyself, 
that  do  not  unto   any  other  ^  (To  41=).     H'illel'i 


reply  to  a  Gentile  inquirer  who  asked  to 
be  taught  the  whole  Law  while  standing  on  one 
foot,  was,  '  What  is  hateful  to  thee,  do  not  unto  thy 
fellow-man  ;  this  is  the  whole  law,  the  rest  is  mere 
commentary'  (Bab.  Shab.  31a).  A  saying  of  Con- 
fucius is,  'Do  not  to  others  what  you  would  not 
wish  done  to  yourself  (Legge,  Chinese  Classics,  i. 
191  f.).  Gibbon  (Decline  and  Fall,  liv  n.)  quotes 
from  a  moral  treatise  of  Isocrates,  &  iraoxovTes  v<t>' 
iripuv  dpryl^eade,  raOra  Tois  fiWois  firi  woie'ire.  The 
passage  occurs  in  an  address  (written  by  Isocrates, 
a  professional  writer)  of  Nicocles,  king  of  Cyprian 
Salamis  (c.  .374  B.C.),  to  his  subjects,  dealing  with 
their  duties  as  such  (Isocrates,  Nicocles,  61i). 

The  unique  value  of  tlie  Golden  Rule  of  Jesus 
does  not  depend  upon  its  never  having  been  uttered 
by  any  earlier  teacher  in  its  positive  form,  but 
upon  its  connexion  with  His  revelation  of  man's 
chief  good.  His  perfect  example  of  devotion  to  that 
good,  and  His  power  to  inspire  and  sustain  those 
who,  at  His  bidding,  become  followers  of  that 
which  is  good.  It  remains  true,  however,  that 
there  is  little  evidence  of  tlie  existence  of  any  pre- 
Christian  parallel  to  the  positive  rule.  Diogenes 
Laertius  (v.  21)  tells  us  that  Aristotle  was  asked 
how  we  should  act  towards  our  friends,  and 
replied  :  '  as  we  would  they  should  act  to  us.'  The 
saying  is  quoted  with  no  context,  but  a  comparison 
with  Nieom.  Ethics,  ix.  8  fin.,  is  in  favour  of  its 
genuineness.  Prof.  Legge,  commenting  on  the 
assertion  that  Confucius  gave  the  rule  only  in  a 
negative  form,  says  :  '  but  he  understood  it  also  in 


654 


GOLDEN  RULE 


GOLDEN  RULE 


its  positive  and  most  comprehensive  force,  and 
deplored,  on  one  occasion  at  least,  that  he  had  not 
himself  always  attained  to  taking  the  initiative  in 
doing  to  others  as  he  would  have  them  do  to  him  ' 
{Eiicjjc.  Brit.^  vi.  264'>). 

In  the  Apostolic  and  post  -  Apostolic  ages  the 
negative  form  of  the  rule  is  more  frequent,  both  in 
Christian  and  non-Christian  writers.  The  oldest 
Christian  authority  is  probably  Didache,  1'-.  It  is 
also  inserted  in  the  Western  text  of  Ac  15-°-  ^,  but 
tlie  source  of  the  variant  is  uncertain.  Zahn  refers 
the  addition  to  the  Didache  ;  but,  as  Rendel  Harris 
says,  '  the  negative  precept  turns  up  everywhere  in 
the  early  Church,  having  been  absorbed  in  the  first 
instance  from  Jewish  ethics.'  (Cf.  Knowling's 
succinct  note  on  Ac  15*  in  Expos.  Gr.  Test.).  Other 
examples  are  Const.  Apost.  vii.  1 ;  Clem.  Alex. 
Strom,  ii.  23,  139 ;  Tertullian,  c.  Marc.  iv.  16.  In 
non-Christian  authors  the  negative  form  of  the  rule 
is  found  in  Philo  (Eusebius,  Pr(ep.  viii.  7.  6).  One 
of  the  best  of  the  Roman  emperors,  Alexander 
Severus,  had  it  inscribed  in  his  palace  and  on 
public  buildings  (Lamprid.  c.  51).  Westermarck 
{Origin  and  Development  of  the  Moral  Ideas,  i.  693) 
directs  attention  to  an  interesting  passage  in 
Epictetus  {Fraqm.  42) :  the  keeping  of  slaves  is 
condemned  in  these  words,  '  What  you  avoid  suffer- 
ing yourself,  seek  not  to  impose  on  others.'  The 
rule  in  its  positive  form  is  loosely  quoted  in  Clem. 
Rom.  ad  Cor.  c.  xiii.,  'As  ye  clo,  so  shall  it  be 
done  unto  you  ...  as  ye  are  kind,  so  shall  kind- 
ness be  shown  unto  you.'  Harless  {Christian  Ethics, 
p.  110)  ascribes  to  Seneca  the  saying,  'ab  altero 
expectes  alteri  quod  feceris,' — a  suggestive  and  rare 
contrast  to  the  Stoic  maxim,  '  Quod  tibi  fieri  non 
vis,  alteri  ne  feceris.' 

A  fair  inference  from  these  facts  is  that  tlie 
positive  form  of  the  Golden  Rule  has  been  gener- 
ally regarded  as  marking  a  distinct  advance  ujion 
the  negative  form,  its  ideal  of  social  duty  being 
higher  and  therefore  more  difficult  to  realize.  But 
Professor  Hirsch  takes  the  opposite  view  ;  in  the 
Jewish  Encyclopedia  (vi.  22'')  he  says:  '"What 
you  would  have  others  do  unto  you,"  makes  self 
and  possible  advantages  to  self  the  central  motive  ; 
' '  what  is  hateful  to  you  do  not  unto  another  "  makes 
the  effect  upon  others  the  regulating  principle.' 
But  how  can  self-interest  be  tlie  motive  for  doing 
good  to  tliankful  and  unthankful  alike!  The 
positive  precept  puts  '  doing '  first,  and  bids  us  take 
thought  in  doing  good  ;  we  are  to  give  what  would 
please  us,  if  we  were  in  the  place  of  those  whom  we 
are  trying  to  benefit,  though  it  may  be  quite 
certain  that  we  shall  receive  nothing  in  return. 
The  command  of  Christ  accords  with  His  teaching 
that  they  are  '  blessed '  who  do  not  invite  to  their 
feasts  tliose  who  mil  probably  return  the  invita- 
tion, but  tliose  who  cannot  make  such  recompense 
(Lk  W-"-).  It  is  still  more  difficult  to  understand 
how  'doing  nothing'  to  another  ensures  that  our 
conduct  will  be  regulated  by  altruistic  principles. 
To  do  no  harm  is  consistent  \vith  extreme  selfish- 
ness. '  Tlie  negative  confines  us  to  the  region  of 
jitstice  ;  the  positive  takes  us  into  the  region  of 
generosity  or  grace,  and  so  embraces  both  law  and 
prophets'  (Bruce,  Expos.  Gr.  Test,  in  loc). 

A  subtle  way  ot  obtaining  a  negative  result  from  the  positive 
precept  is  mentioned  by  Schleiermacher  {Predujten,  iii.  84  ff.). 
One  may  say  in  haughty  independence,  '  What  I  wish  is  that 
others  would  let  me  go  my  own  way  ;  therefore,  I  let  them  go 
theirs.'  It  is  rightly  said,  in  reply,  that  such  pride  is  incom- 
patible with  obedience  to  the  command  of  Jesus.  His  words, 
*  whatsoever  ye  would  that  men  should  do  unto  you,'  are  a 
recognition  of  the  fact  of  men's  mutual  dependence.  'We  are 
members  one  of  another,  and  our  chief  danger  is  not  that  we 
should  forget  our  claim?  on  others,  but  that  we  should  neglect 


'  duties  to  others ; 


vertheless  there  i 


A  practical  difficulty  presents  itself  to  the  minds 


of  many  who  desire  to  walk  in  accordance  with 
Christ's  rule.  A  king  cannot  do  to  his  subject 
what  he  desires  Ids  subject  to  do  to  him,  nor  can  a 
father  to  his  child,  nor  a  ma-ster  to  his  servant. 
But  our  Lord's  command  is  '  euen  so  do  ye  unto 
them.'  The  narrow  interpretation  is  not  only  false 
to  tlie  spirit,  but  also  to  the  letter.  The  saying  of 
Christ  leaves  abundant  room  for  good  actions 
which  the  recipient  may  be  known  to  be  altogether 
unable  to  return, — another  reason  for  refusing  to 
see  in  the  positive  form  of  the  Golden  Rule  an 
appeal  to  self-interest.  The  Gr.  word  used  is  oBtus, 
not  TOLvra ;  its  meaning  is  rightly  given  by  Alford 
{Com.  in  loc.),  'After  the  pattern  of  baa  &v  .  .  . 
Because  what  might  suit  us  might  not  suit  others. 
We  are  to  think  what  we  should  like  done  to  tis, 
and  then  apply  that  rule  to  our  dealings  with 
others.'  A  balaly  literal  interpretation  would  miss 
the  beauty  of  St.  Paul's  words,  when,  after  enumer- 
ating the  duties  of  servants  to  their  masters,  he 
says,  '  And,  ye  masters,  do  the  same  things  unto 
them'  (Eph  6").  The  rule  for  masters  and  servants 
alike  is  '  imto  the  Lord' ;  on  each  side  of  this  and  of 
every  human  relationship  there  is  opportunity  for 
'  goodwill '  and  for  '  doing  the  wUl  of  God  from  the 
heart'  (v.s'-). 

Many  modern  writers  regard  the  Golden  Rule  as  identical 
with  the  ethical  maxim  of  Kant :  '  So  act  as  to  treat  humanity, 
whether  in  thine  own  person  or  in  that  of  any  other,  in  every 
case  as  an  end  withal,  never  as  a  means  only '  (cf.  Votaw  in 
Hastings'  DB,  Extra  Vol.  p.  42» ;  Gore,  Sermon  on  the  Mount, 
170  f. ;  Loofs,  PredUjten.  ii.  227).  In  the  language  of  philosophy, 
Kant  forcefully  expresses  what  is  implied  in  the  simpler  words 
of  Jesus.  Doubtless  it  is  inconsistent  with  the  Golden  Rule  to 
exploit  men  for  gain  or  for  pleasure ;  in  a  word,  to  have  one 
ideal  for  ourselves  and  another  for  our  neighbours.  Loofs 
shows  clearly  how  the  unitersality  of  the  ethical  imperative 
on  which  Kant  so  strongly  insists  is  a  distinct  note  in  the  com- 
mand of  Jesus.  He  also  makes  an  instructive  application  of 
this  principle  to  a  concrete  case,  and  shows  how  vamly  partners 
in  guilt  try  to  shelter  themselves  behind  their  own  parody  of 
this  rule.  As  though  mutual  agreement  could  ever  be  any 
excuse  for  collusion  in  dishonest  actions,  deceitful  evasions,  or 
even  immoral  pleasures.  His  reply  to  those  who  act  on  the 
principle  ot  the  German  proverb,  'The  left  hand  washes  the 


another  should  do  to  him,  let  him  do  the  same  to  that  other.' 
The  rule  is  universal.  There  must  be  no  arbitrary  limiting  of 
the  extension  of  the  term  '  men '  in  the  sajing,  '  Whatsoever  ye 
would  that  m€7l  should  do  unto  you,  even  so  do  ye  also  unto 
them.'  A  thief  and  his  accomplice  may,  for  the  sake  of  divid- 
ing the  spoil,  wink  at  each  other's  crimes ;  that  is  what  is  called 
honour  among  thieves.  But  neither  of  the  accomplices  can 
wish  to  make  the  rule  of  action  universal ;  they  cannot  desire 
to  be  deceived  by  all  men  as  they  have  agreed  to  combine  in 
deceiving  others. 

In  the  Golden  Rule,  John  Stuart  Mill  found  a 
fitting  expression  of  the  essential  principle  of  his 
ethical  system.  '  To  do  as  you  would  be  done  by, 
and  to  love  your  neighbour  as  yourself,  constitute 
the  ideal  perfection  of  utilitarian  morality '  ( Utili- 
tarianism, p.  323).  But  when  tlie  crucial  question 
is  asked :  How  is  the  ideal  perfection  to  be 
attained  ?  the  reply  is  that  utility  enjoins,  '  as  the 
means  of  making  the  nearest  approach  to  this  ideal,' 
that  (1)  'laws of  social  arrangements,' and  (2)  'edu- 
cation and  opinion '  should  strive  to  '  establish  in 
the  mind  of  every  individual  an  indissoluble  associa- 
tion between  his  own  happiness  and  tlie  good  of 
the  whole '  {op.  cit.  p.  323).  But  no  external  force, 
such  as  law  or  education,  can  supply  either  the 
motive  for  doing  as  we  would  be  done  by,  or  the 
power  to  fulfil  the  precept  we  approve.  It  is  true 
tliat  on  the  lips  of  Christ  the  Golden  Rule  has  its 
perfect  expression  ;  but  its  superiority  as  an  ethical 
maxim  rests  upon  a  broader  basis.  It  is  more  to 
exemplify  a  rule  than  to  formulate  it ;  it  is  still 
more  to  mrnisli  the  inward  inspiration  which  con- 
strains men  to  obey  it.  Tlie  disciples  of  Christ 
have  another  Golden  Rule  for  tlieir  actions  one 
toward  another ;  it  is  expressed  in  His  words,  '_  as 
I  have  done  to  you ' ;  and  their  all-powerful  motive 
is  the  assurance  that  '  ye  did  it  unto  me '  (Mt  25*') 


GOLGOTHA 


GOLGOTHA 


655 


will  be  their  abundant  reward,  if  whatsoever  they 
would  have  done  to  Christ  Himself,  even  so  they 
do  unto  men,  servini;  them  lowlily  and  lovingly  in 
His  name  and  for  His  sake. 

LrrERATURE. — In  addition  to  the  worlcs  mentioned  in  this 
article,  see  Sermon  on  the  Modnt  and  the  excellent  Bibliography 
of  Votaw  in  Hastings'  DB,  Extra  Vol.  p.  44  f. 

J.  G.  Tasker. 

GOLGOTHA  (ToKyoda,  Aram.  Nij^aSji,  Heb.  n^jS: 
[2  K  9'*],  '  skull')-— The  name  of  the  place  where 
Jesus  was  crucified.  This  name  is  mentioned  by 
three  of  the  Evangelists  (Mt  27^  'a  place  called 
Golgotha,  that  is  to  say.  The  place  of  a  skull ' ; 
Mk  15-^  '  the  place  Golgotha,  which  is,  being  inter- 
preted, The  place  of  a  skull';  Jn  19"  'the  place 
called  The  place  of  a  skull,  which  is  called  in 
the  Hebrew,  Golgotha').  The  Greek  equivalent 
(Kpavlov)  is  used  by  St.  Luke  (23^^  '  the  place  which 
is  called  The  skull,'  RV).  Vulg.  uses  here  the  Latin 
equivalent  Calvaria,  whence  '  Calvary '  in  A V. 

Three  explanations  of  this  name  have  been  sug- 
gested :  (1)  Jerome  [Com.  in  Eph  5")  mentions  a 
tradition  that  Adam  was  buried  at  Golgotha,  and 
that  at  the  Crucifixion  the  drops  of  Christ's  blood 
fell  on  his  skull  and  restored  him  to  life.  The 
skull  often  seen  in  early  pictures  of  the  Crucifixion 
refers  to  this.  (2)  It  is  supposed  by  some  to  have 
been  the  place  of  public  execution,  where  bodies 
were  left  unburied  (Jerome,  Com.  in  Mt  27^),  but 
(a)  it  is  most  unlikely  that  dead  men's  bones  would 
have  been  left  lying  about  so  near  the  city,  when, 
according  to  the  Mosaic  law,  they  made  any  one 
unclean  who  touched  them  ;  (h)  there  was  no  reason 
why  the  place  should  have  been  named  from  the 
skulls  rather  than  from  any  other  parts  of  skele- 
tons; (c)  the  expression  is  npavlov  T6?ro!,  not  Kpavluv 
riwos,  as  we  should  expect  it  to  be  if  this  deriva- 
tion were  correct.  (3)  The  most  probable  view  of 
the  origin  of  the  name  is  suggested  by  the  form  of 
the  expression  in  St.  Luke,  'the  place  which  is 
called  The  skull.'  It  was  probably  so  called  because 
of  its  skull-like  contour.  The  use  of  the  article  by 
the  Evangelists  seems  to  indicate  that  the  place 
was  well  known,  but  they  never  call  it  a  mountain. 
The  Bordeaux  Pilgrim  (A.D,  333)  speaks  of  it  as 
monticulus  Golgotha,  and  the  expression  '  Mount 
Calvary '  appears  to  have  come  into  use  after  the 
5th  century. 

The  site  cannot  be  identified  with  certainty.  All 
that  we  know  from  the  Bible  is  that  it  was  outside 
the  walls  of  the  city  {He  13'-,  Mt  27='-  ^,  Jn  W^-  "), 
that  it  was  nigh  to  the  city  (Jn  19="),  that  it  was 
in  a  conspicuous  position  (Mk  15*",  Lk  23^"),  that 
it  was  close  to  some  thoroughfare  leading  from  the 
country  (Mt  27"',  Mk  15='-=»,  Lk  23==),  and  that  it 
was  near  a  garden  and  a  new  tomb  hewn  out  of 
the  rock,  belonging  to  Joseph,  a  rich  man  of 
Arimathaea  (Jn  19^',  Mt  27"- «",  Mk  15«- «,  Lk 
23^'').  These  particulars  are  not  sufficient  to  justify 
a  positive  decision  in  favour  of  any  one  of  the 
proposed  identifications  of  Golgotha,  but  they 
seem  to  be  decisive  against  the  first  of  the  four 
conjectures  mentioned  below,  to  bear  against  the 
second  slightly,  but  against  the  third  more  heavily, 
and  to  be  most  nearly  satisfied  by  the  fourth. 

1.  The  peculiar  theory  of  Fergusson  (Essay  on 
the  Anc.  Topoc/.  of  Jems.,  and  art.  'Jerusalem'  in 
Smith's  DB),  that  Golgotha  was  on  Mount  Moriah, 
and  that  the  mosque  of  Omar  is  the  church  erected 
by  Constantine  over  the  Holy  Sepulchre,  was 
quickly  shown  to  be  untenaWe  [e.g.  by  Bonar,  art. 
'  Jerusalem '  in  Fairbairn's  DB). 

2.  Barclay  (Citj/  of  the  Great  King,  p.  79)  and 
Porter  (Kitto's  Cyel.  of  Bib.  Lit.  art  'Golgotha') 
maintained  that  the  site  of  the  Crucifixion  was  east 
of  the  city,  between  the  then  existing  wall  and 
the  Kidron  Valley.  This  place  could  have  been 
quickly  and   easily  reached  from  the   palace  of 


Pilate  and  the  judgment -hall,  which  probably 
stood  at  the  N.W.  corner  of  the  ^laram  area. 
According  to  this  view,  the  soldiers,  instead  of 
taking  their  prisoner  across  the  city  towards  the 
west,  or  out  in  the  direction  of  the  Koman  road, 
hurried  Him  through  the  nearest  gate  and  crucified 
Him  near  the  road  leading  to  Bethany.  Two  ob- 
jections are  urged  against  this  :  (a)  that  the  Gospel 
narratives  imply  that  the  road  passing  Golgotha 
was  a  more  frequented  thoroughfare  than  this 
road  to  Bethany,  and  that  the  great  highways  of 
Jerusalem  are  all  on  the  north  and  west  of  the 
city ;  and  (b)  that  there  is  no  skull-shaped  site  in 
this  region. 

3.  That  Golgotha  was  where  the  Church  of  the 
Holy  Sepulchre  now  stands,  seems  to  have  been 
almost  universally  believed  from  the  age  of  Con- 
stantine down  to  the  18th  century.  It  is  now 
agreed  on  all  hands  that  the  present  Church  of 
the  Holy  Sepulchre  occupies  the  site  of  the  one 
erected  by  Constantine  in  A.D.  335.  On  what 
grounds  did  he  select  this  as  the  true  site  of  the 
Crucifixion  ?  Those  who  still  believe  it  to  be  the 
true  site  generally  assume  not  only  that  the  early 
Christians  at  Jerusalem  had  a  knowledge  of  the 
places  where  the  Lord  was  crucified  and  buried, 
but  also  that  this  knowledge  was  handed  down  as 
a  reliable  tradition  through  three  hundred  years, 
notwithstanding  the  utter  demolition  of  Jerusalem 
by  Titus  and  again  by  Hadrian,  and  the  altering 
of  the  whole  aspect  of  the  city  by  the  latter  when 
he  rebuilt  it  as  a  Roman  colony  and  changed  its 
name  to  Aelia  Capitolina.  But  Eusebius,  in  describ- 
ing the  discovery  of  the  site  by  Constantine,  says  it 
had  been  '  given  over  to  forgetfulness  and  oblivion,' 
and  that  the  Emperor,  '  not  without  a  Divine  inti- 
mation, but  moved  in  spirit  by  the  Saviour  Him- 
self,' ordered  it  to  be  purified  and  adorned  with 
splendid  buildings. 

'Such  language,  certainly,  would  hardly  be  appropriate  in 
speaking  of  a  spot  well  known  and  definitely  marked  by  long 
tradition.  The  Emperor,  too,  in  his  letter  to  Macarius,  regards 
the  discovery  of  "the  token  of  the  Saviour's  most  sacred 
passion,  which  for  so  long  a  time  had  been  hidden  under 
ground,"  as  "a  miracle  beyond  the  capacity  of  man  sufficiently 
to  celebrate  or  even  to  comprehend."  The  mere  removal  o"f 
obstructions  from  a  well-known  spot  could  hardly  have  been 
described  as  a  miracle  so  stupendous.     Indeed,  the  whole  tenor 


Boston,  1841,  ii.  76). 

The  same  impression  is  made  by  the  accounts  of 
the  writers  of  the  5th  century,  who,  however, 
unanimously  attribute  the  discovery  not  to  Con- 
stantine, but  to  his  mother  Helena.  Their  story 
is  that,  guided  by  a  '  Divine  intimation '  as  to  the 
place,  she  came  to  Jerusalem,  inquired  diligently 
of  the  inhabitants,  and,  after  a  difficult  search, 
found  the  sepulchre  and  beside  it  three  crosses,  and 
also  the  tablet  bearing  the  inscription  of  Pilate. 
At  the  suggestion  of  Bishop  Macarius,  the  cross  to 
which  the  inscription  belonged  was  ascertained  by 
a  miracle  of  healing.  The  three  crosses  were  pre- 
sented in  succession  to  a  noble  lady  of  Jerusalem 
who  lay  sick  of  an  incurable  disease.  Two  of  them 
produced  no  efi'ect,  but  the  third  worked  an  im- 
mediate and  perfect  cure.  Eusebius,  though  con- 
temporary with  the  alleged  events,  makes  no 
mention  of  the  discovery  of  the  cross  nor  of  the 
agency  of  Helena.  But  whether  we  accept  the 
account  of  Eusebius  or  that  of  the  writers  of  the 
5th  century,  the  traditional  site  of  Calvary  rests 
on  a  miracle,  and,  in  the  case  of  the  latter,  on  a 
double  miracle. 

Those  who  now  favour  this  site  (e.g.  Sanday, 
Sac.  Sites  of  the  Gospels,  pp.  72-77)  labour  to  show 
that  there  was  a  previous  tradition  which  deter- 
mined Constantine's  selection  of  the  spot,  but  the 


656 


GOLGOTHA 


GOLGOTHA 


only  proofs  they  adduce  are  :  (a)  vague  allusions  to 
visits  made  by  early  pUgiims  to  the  '  Holy  Places ' 
of  Palestine,  an  expression  which  is  used  of  the 
Holy  Land  at  large,  and  not  of  the  Holy  City  only ; 
and  (6)  the  alleged  regular  succession  of  bishops 
from  the  Apostle  James  to  the  time  of  Hadrian, 
through  whom  a  knowledge  of  the  place  might 
have  been  handed  down.  This  regular  succession 
of  bishops  is  more  than  doubtful.  The  only 
authority  on  the  subject  is  Eusebius,  who  lived 
two  centuries  afterwards,  and  he  says  expressly  that 
he  had  been  able  to  find  no  document  respecting 
them,  and  wrote  only  from  hearsay.  Moreover, 
even  if  it  were  possible  to  prove  the  existence  of 
an  earlier  tradition,  its  value  would  be  open  to 
serious  question,  as  is  shown  by  the  falsity  of  other 
traditions  which  did  actually  exist  in  tne  age  of 
Constantine.  For  instance,  Eusebius  in  A.D.  315 
speaks  of  pilgrims  coming  from  all  parts  of  the 
world  to  behold  the  fulfilment  of  prophecy  and  to 
pay  their  adorations  on  the  summit  of  the  Mount 
of  Olives,  where  Jesus  gave  His  last  charge  to  His 
disciples  and  then  ascended  into  heaven.  This  is 
hardly  consistent  with  the  explicit  statement  of 
St.  Luke  (24»<'-  ")  that  '  he  led  them  out  until  they 
were  over  against  Bethany,  and  ...  he  parted 
from  them  and  was  carried  up  into  heaven.'  Other 
sites  sho\vn  to  pilgrims  in  that  uncritical  age  were 
impossible,  such  as  that  of  Rephidini  in  Moab. 
The  Bordeaux  Pilgrim  places  the  Transfiguration 
on  Olivet,  and  the  combat  of  David  and  Goliath 
near  Jezreel.  The  fact  that  no  pilgrimages  were 
made  to  the  site  of  the  Holy  Sepulclire  before  the 
visit  of  Helena,  though  they  were  made  in  plenty 
to  the  summit  of  Olivet,  goes  to  show  that  there 
was  no  tradition  concerning  the  Holy  Sepulchre. 

In  the  present  Church  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre  are 
shown  not  only  the  site  of  the  Sepulchre  and  the 
rock  of  the  Crucifixion,  with  the  cleft  made  by  the 
earthquake  and  the  three  holes,  five  feet  apart,  in 
which  the  three  crosses  were  inserted,  but  also  a 
great  number  of  other  traditional  sites.  Almost 
every  incident  of  the  Passion  and  Resurrection  is 
definitely  located.  The  very  spots  are  pointed  out 
where  Christ  was  bound,  where  He  was  scourged, 
where  His  friends  stood  afar  off  during  the  Cruci- 
fixion, where  His  garments  were  parted,  where  His 
body  was  anointed,  where  He  appeared  to  His 
mother  after  the  Resurrection,  and  to  Mary  Mag- 
dalene ;  the  rock  tombs  also  of  Nicodemus  and 
Joseph  of  Arimathaja ;  the  place  where  Helena's 
throne  stood  during  the  '  Invention  of  the  Cross,' 
— and  many  others.  The  number  of  these  identi- 
fications, all  under  one  roof,  does  not  increase  our 
confidence  in  ecclesiastical  tradition. 

Not  less  damaging  to  the  claims  of  the  traditional 
site  is  the  topographical  evidence.  Our  Lord  suf- 
fered '  without  the  gate '  (He  13'=).  The  Church  of 
the  Holy  Sepulchre  lies  far  within  the  walls  of  the 
present  city,  and,  as  Jerusalem  at  the  time  of  the 
Crucifixion  was  much  larger  than  it  is  now,  the 
fair  presumption  is  that  it  included  the  site  of  that 
church  rather  than  excluded  it.  If  we  place  Gol- 
gotha at  the  traditional  site,  we  make  Jerusalem 
at  the  time  of  its  greatest  prosperity  no  larger 
than  the  poverty-stricken  town  of  the  present  day, 
'  containing  not  far  from  200  acres,  from  which  36 
acres  must  be  deducted  for  the  ^arara  area '  ( Mer- 
rill). This  difficulty  arising  from  the  present  loca- 
tion in  the  heart  of  the  city  seems  to  have  been 
felt  as  early  as  the  8th  cent.,  and  also  in  the  12tli 
and  14th,  but  the  first  to  reject  the  tradition  openly 
was  Korte,  who  visited  Jerusalem  in  1738,  and  who 
urged  that  the  traditional  site  could  not  have  been 
outside  the  ancient  city,  because  of  its  nearness  to 
the  former  area  of  the  Jewish  temple.  The  argu- 
ment against  this  site  has  been  greatly  strength- 
ened by  the  determination  of  the  rock  levels  of 


Jerusalem  and  the  probable  course  of  the  '  second 
wall '  of  the  three  mentioned  by  Josephus.  The 
first  wall,  tliat  of  David  and  Solomon,  encompassed 


the  Upper  City  (Zion),  and  its  north  line  ran  east- 
ward from  the  tower  of  Hippicus  to  the  wall 
bounding  the  temple  area.     '  The  second  wall  had 


its  beginning  from  the  gate  called  Gennath,  which 
belonged  to  the  first  wall,  and,  encircling  only  the 
northern  quarter  of  the  city,  it  extended  as  far  as 
the  Tower  Antonia '  {BJ  V.  iv.  2).  This  wall,  which 
was  probably  built  by  Hezekiah,  running  in  a 
circle  or  curve,  seems  to  have  had  no  angles  like 
the  first  and  third,  and  therefore  to  have  required 
no  extended  description.  If  this  curve  included 
the  Pool  of  Hezekiah  (which  must  surely  have 
been  within  the  walls),  it  would  naturally  have 
included  also  the  traditional  site  of  the  Sepulchre. 
If,  in  spite  of  the  statement  of  Josephus,  the  wall 
be  drawn  with  a  re-entering  angle  so  as  to  exclude 
the  traditional  site,  there  still  remain  apparently 
insuperable  difficulties  in  the  nature  of  the  ground, 
since  in  this  case  the  wall  must  have  been  built  in 
a  deep  valley  (Tyiopoeon),  and  must  have  been 
dominated  from  without  by  the  adjacent  knoll  on 
which  the  Church  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre  now 
stands  ( Acra).  But  '  fortresses  stand  on  hills,  not 
in  deep  ravines,'  'the  wall  must  have  stood  on  the 
high  ground'  (Conder).  Immediately  east  of  the 
Tower  of  David  (at  or  near  which  Hippicus  must 
have  stood)  a  narrow  ridge  runs  north  and  south, 
connecting  the  two  hills  Zion  and  Acra  and  sepa- 
rating the  head  of  the  Tyropuion  Valley  from  the 
valley  west  of  the  Jafl'a  gate.  As  this  is  the  only 
place  where  the  wall  could  have  protected  the 
valley  on  the  east  and  commanded  the  valley  on 
the  west,  the  natural  course  for  the  engineers 
would  have  been  to  buUd  the  wall  along  this  ridge. 
Exactly  along  this  ridge  the  remains  of  an  ancient 
wall  were  found  in  1885  by  Dr.  Merrill.  One 
hundred  and  twenty  feet  of  it  were  exposed  in  a 
line  running  north-west  and  south-east,  at  a  depth 
of  10  or  12  ft.  below  the  present  surface  of  the 
ground.  At  some  points  but  one  course  of  stone 
remained,  at  others  two,  at  others  three.  The 
stones  correspond  in  size  and  work  to  those  in  the 
base  of  the  Tower  of  David,  a  few  j'ards  farther 
south.  This  is  probably  a  portion  of  the  second 
wall.  Later,  another  section,  26  ft.  long,  of  similar 
work,  was  found  farther  north,  besides  traces  at 
several  other  points.  In  explanation  of  the  fact 
that  entire  sections  are  found  towards  the  south 
and  only  debris  of  walls  towards  the  north,  Dr. 
Merrill  cites  the  statement  of  Josephus,  that  Titus 
'threw  down  the  entire  northern  portion,'  but  left 
the  southern  standing  and  placed  garrisons  in  its 
towers.  From  the  statement  that  Titus  made  his 
attack  '  against  the  central  tower  of  the  north 
wall '  he  argues  further,  that  if  the  wall  ran  from 
near  Hippicus  to  Antonia  in  such  a  way  as  to  ex- 
clude the  traditional  site  of  the  Sepulchre,  the  two 
parts  of  the  wall  after  it  was  broken  in  the  middle 
should  have  been  designated  the  '  eastern '  and 
'  western  ' ;  but  Josephus  calls  thciii  the  '  northern  ' 
and  'southern,'  a  description  wliich  is  obviously 
more  appropriate  to  a  wall  wliicli  ran  well  to  the 
west  and  north  of  the  traditional  site  (Ftxsb.  and 
Ref.  Rev.  iii.  p.  646). 

Parts  of  an  ancient  ditch  and  remains  of  walls 
have  been  recently  discovered  east  of  the  Church 
of  the  Holy  Sepulchre,  and  Schick  regards  these 
as  remains  of  the  second  wall  and  of  the  city  moat. 
But,  as  Benzinger  says  (HUprecht's  Explorations 
in  Bible  Lands  in  the  19th  Cent.),  his  explanation 
'  is  not  convincing  in  itself,  and  there  stand  op- 
posed to  it  important  considerations  of  a  general 
nature,'  such  as  have  been  cited  above,  crj.  the 
military  objection  to  locating  a  wall  in  a  valley 
dominated  from  without  by  higher  ground,  and 


i 


Golgotha 


GOOD 


657 


the  fact  that,  had  thi«  been  the  course  of  the  wall, 
Jerusalem  could  not  have  accommodated  its  great 
population  at  the  time  of  Christ. 

The  existence  of  an  undoubted  Jewish  tomb  at 
the  Church  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre,  the  one  now 
called  the  Tomb  of  Joseph  of  Arimathtea,  has  been 
cited  as  evidence  that  the  place  was  outside  the 
old  city  wall,  '  but  we  know  from  the  Talmud  that 
ancient  half-forgotten  tombs  were  allowed  by  the 
Jews  to  exist  within  Jerusalem,  and  any  writer 
will  admit  that,  in  the  time  of  Agrippa  at  least, 
this  particular  tomb  was  within  the  circuit  of  the 
town.'  The  third  wall,  which  ran  far  to  the  north- 
west and  north  of  the  present  city  wall,  was  built 
by  Agrippa  only  ten  or  eleven  years  after  the 
Crucihxion,  to  enclose  a  large  suburb  that  had 
gradually  extended  beyond  the  second  wall.  So 
that,  even  if  it  could  be  shown  that  the  Sepulchre 
was  outside  the  second  wall,  it  certainly  lay  far 
within  the  line  of  the  third,  and  in  the  midst  of 
this  new  town  which  at  the  time  of  the  Crucifixion 
must  have  been  already  growing  north  of  the 
second  wall.  The  words  '  without  the  gate  '  and 
'  nigh  to  the  city  '  could  scarcely  mean  '  within  the 
suburbs'  (Schafl). 

The  genuineness  of  the  traditional  site  has  been  defended  by 
Chateaubriand  (Itiiiiraire  de  Paris  d  Jerusalem),  Williams 
(The  Holy  City),  Krafft  (Die  Topographie  Jerusalems),  Tisohen- 
dorf  i^Reise  in  den  Orient),  de  Vogai  {Les  Sglises  de  la  Terre- 
fiainte),  Sepp  (Jenimlevi),  Clermont-Ganneau  (L'Authenticite 
da  Saint-Sepulcre),  Sanday  (Sacred  Sites  0/  the  Gospels),  and 
others.  It  has  been  attacked  by  Korte  (Reise  nach  dein  gclobten 
Lande),  Robinson  (BRP,  and  Bibliolheca  Sacra  for  August  and 
November  1847),  Tobler  (Golgnthn),  Wilson  (The  Lands  of  the 
Bible),  Barclay  (The  Citi/  of  the  (irroi  Kim,).  Schaff  (Through 
Bible  Lands),  Ckmdet  (Tent  ll'.ni-  in  J'nI.'sllnr),  and  others. 

4.  The  theory  that  Golgotha  is  the  skull-shaped 
knoll  above  Jeremiah's  giotto,  outside  tlie  present 
north  wall,  near  the  Damascus  gate,  was  first  sug- 
gested by  Otto  Thenius  in  1849.  A  similar  view 
was  put  forward  independently  by  Fisher  Howe 
[T/ie  True  Site  of  Calvary)  in  1871.  Since  that 
time  the  theory  has  come  rapidly  into  favour,  and 
has  been  accepted  by  Gen.  C.  E.  Gordon,  Sir 
J.  W.  Dawson,  Dr.  MeiTill,  Dr.  Schaft',  Col. 
Conder,  and  others.  It  answers  all  the  require- 
ments of  the  Gospel  narratives,  being  outside  the 
walls,  nigh  to  the  city,  in  a  conspicuous  position, 
near  a  frequented  thoroughfare — the  main  north 
road,  and  near  to  ancient  Jewish  rock-hewn  tombs, 
one  of  which  was  discovered  by  Conder  about  700 
ft.  west  of  the  knoll.  The  so-called  '  Gordon's 
Tomb,'  about  230  ft.  from  the  summit  of  the  knoll, 
is  thought  by  Conder  to  be  a  Christian  tomb  of 
the  Byzantine  age  ;  but  Schick  says  it  '  was  origin- 
ally a  rather  small  rock-cut  Jewish  tomb,  but  be- 
came afterwards  a  Christian  tomb.'  The  great 
cemetery  of  Jewish  times  lay  north  of  the  city. 

Moreover,  Jewish  tradition  regards  this  hill  as 
the  place  of  public  execution,  and  the  Jews  still 
call  it  'the  Place  of  Stoning.'  Christian  tradi- 
tion also,  as  old  as  the  5th  cent.,  fixes  this  as  the 
place  of  the  stoning  of  Stephen.  The  fact  that 
Christ  was  put  to  death  by  the  Roman  method  of 
crucifixion  and  not  by  the  Jewish  method  of  ston- 
ing does  not  break  the  force  of  this  argument,  for 
there  is  no  reason  to  suppose  that  Jerusalem  had 
two  places  of  public  execution.  No  other  place 
would  have  been  so  convenient  to  the  Romans  for 
this  purpose,  starting,  as  they  probably  did,  from 
Antonia.  The  castle  seems  to  have  been  itself  a  part 
of  the  outer  ramparts  on  the  north-east,  with  the 
north  wall  of  the  temple  area  stretching  from  it  to 
the  east  and  the  second  city  wall  to  the  north- 
west. There  must  have  been  some  feasible  route 
for  the  soldiers  of  the  garrison,  who  were  con- 
stantly going  back  and  forth  between  this  fortress 
and  Csesarea.  There  was  no  such  route  to  the  east 
or  south.  To  go  west  would  have  taken  them 
through  the  heart  of  the  crowded  city,  with  its 
vol..  1.— 42 


narrow  streets  and  its  perils  from  the  mob.  What 
more  natural  than  that  there  should  have  been  a 
road  leading  directly  from  Antonia  to  the  open 
country  northwards  ?  Here,  accordingly,  only  a 
short  distance  north  of  the  city,  we  find  the  re- 
mains of  a  Roman  road. 

•  If  executions  were  to  take  place  near  the  city,  I  think  they 
must  have  been  carried  out  on  the  line  of  such  a  road,  where 
tile  soldiers  would  have  free  ground  to  act  upon  in  case  of  an 
emergency,  without  being  hampered  by  crowded  streets,  and 
where  only  one  gate  would  be  between  them  and  their  strong- 
hold, and  that  one  entirely  under  their  own  control '  (Merrill). 

Literature.— Artt.  'Golgotha'  in  Hastings'  DB  and  Encye. 
Bibl.,  'Sepulchre,  The   Holy,'  in  Eneyc.  Brit.v,   'Grab,  daa 


p.  483 £f.;  PEFSt,  1892,  pp.  120ff.,  177,  188,  206;  Wilson, 
Golgotha  and  the  tloly  Sepulchre,  1906  ;  and  works  cited  in  the 
article.  W.  W.  MoORE. 

GOMORRAH  (mby,  Vo/noppa  [fem.]  or  Ti/jLoppa 
[neut.]).— 

The  word  should  be  fem.  in  Greek  as  in  Hebrew,  but  the  final 
«  led  to  its  being  treated  aa  neut.  plural.  In  the  LXX  it  is 
fem.  9  times,  neut.  5  times,  and  in  6  passages  the  gender  is 
indeterminate.  In  the  NT  it  is  fem.  in  2  P  26  and  Mt  lOi*  [CDJ, 
but  neut.  in  id.  (NAB). 

The  name  occurs  in  the  NT  in  Mt  W\  Ro  9=^ 
2  P  2^  Jude'.  (In  Mk  6"  it  occurs  in  a  sentence 
wrongly  inserted  in  A  and  some  Lat.  MSS,  whence 
it  found  its  way  through  the  TR  into  the  AV). 
In  every  case  it  is  coupled  with  Sodom,  as  it  is 
invariably  in  the  OT.  It  is  to  be  noticed,  how- 
ever, that  Sodom  is  mentioned  alone  in  Mt  U™-, 
Lk  17=",  Rev  118.  Not  ^^jy  gg^  i^ut  in  Lk  10'=,  the 
parallel  passage  to  Mt  10'^  Gomorrah  is  omitted. 
It  seems  probable,  therefore,  that  in  St.  Matthew 
the  insertion  of  the  name  is  editorial  and  not 
original  ;  and,  moreover,  the  text  is  uncertain  ; 
KAB  Vo/.i.dppat',  C  roii.6ppas,  D  Vo/i6pas ;  again  HC 
insert  7^  before  To//.,  while  ABl)  omit  it.  Our 
Lord,  then,  used  '  Sodom '  (or  '  the  land  of  Sodom ') 
alone  ;  in  Ro  9="  the  passage  is  a  direct  quotation 
from  Is  P  ;  while  the  OT  expression  '  Sodom  and 
Gomorrah '  is  found  only  in  the  two  late,  and 
closely  connected,  writings,  Jude  and  2  Peter. 

For  the  lessons  drawn  by  our  Lord  from  the 
wickedness  and  the  destruction  of  Sodom,  see  art. 
Sodom.  A.  H.  M'Neile. 

GOOD  ((£70965,  KoXis).— It  is  not  easy  to  define 
Christ's  idea  of  what  is  good.  His  expressions 
vary  from  a  conception  of  the  Good  as  one  with 
the  infinitely  and  inimitably  Perfect  to  the  most 
commonplace  uses  of  the  word.  He  speaks  of  old 
wine  as  '  good '  (Lk  5""),  of  the  wedding-guests  as 
'  both  bad  and  good  '  (Mt  22'»),  of  salt  as  '  good  ' 
(Mk  9™  II  Lk  14"^),  of  certain  ground  as  being 
'good '  (Mk  4'  II  Lk  8^),  of  God  making  ' his  sun  to 
rise  on  the  evil  and  on  the  good '  (Mt  S''*),  and 
He  says  of  Judas,  '  Good  (icoXiic)  were  it  for  that 
man  if  he  had  not  been  born '  (26=''  |i  Mk  14'-').  Yet 
when  the  young  ruler  comes  to  Him  with  the  same 
conventional  usage  of  the  word,  '  Good  Master 
(SiSdaKoXe  d7ae^),  what  good  thing  shall  I  do  to  in- 
herit eternal  life?'  (Mk  10"  ||  Lk  IS'* ;  cf.  Mt  19""- 
and  WH's  'Notes  on  Select  Readings'  ad  loc), 
Jesus  rejects  the  title  as  applied  to  Himself,  and 
asserts  that  'none  is  good  save  one,  even  God.' 
Whether  this  be  read  as  '  not  denying  that  He  is 
good,  but  insisting  that  none  should  call  Him  so 
who  did  not  believe  Him  to  be  God '  (Liddon, 
Bampt.  Led.  i.  23),  or  as 'the  self  j\id:jimiit  which 
felt  hurt  by  the  epithet  good'  (M.-ui  iiii:iu,  Sent  of 
Authority,  651),  there  can  be  lilllr  di.ul.t  Hint  Jesus 
purposely  made  use  of  the  young  iu;in's  iilirase  to 
point  him  to  the  ideal  Good.  Behind  the  tilings 
to  be  done,  which  were  in  the  questioner's  mind, — 
greater  than  matters  of  law  or  ritunl,  or  even 
charity,— was  the  necessity  that  he  should  recog- 


658 


GOOD 


rxOODNESS 


nize  the  Supreme  Good,  the  Eternal  Spirit  of  all 
goodness.  This  did  not  imply  that  man  should  he 
hopeless  of  attaining  a  certain  measure  of  the 
good,  that  it  was  something  beyond  the  reach  of 
the  race,  but  that  the  fimdamental  idea  of  the 
good  is  God,  and  that  to  define  or  limit  it  is  as  im- 
possible as  to  deiine  or  limit  the  Eternal  Himself. 
Only  on  this  occasion  does  Jesus  so  suddenly  soar 
beyond  the  intention  of  any  questioner  who  ap- 
proaches Him.  Elsewhere  He  tells  a  parable,  and 
puts  into  the  mouth  of  the  master  of  the  vine- 
yard (a  most  human  representative  of  the  Heavenly 
Master)  the  question,  '  Is  thine  eye  evil  because  I 
am  good  ? '  (j\lt  20'*) ;  and  He  speaks  of  '  the  good 
man '  who  '  out  of  his  good  treasure  brin^eth  forth 
good  things'  (12''  |i  Lk  G*^).  So  we  may  look  upon 
the  story  of  the  Kich  Young  Man  as  a  unique 
expression  of  Christ's  highest  thought  of  the  Good, 
but  not  as  thereby  ruling  out  all  lesser  conceptions. 
A  man  may  begin  to  do  good  or  to  live  a  good  life 
before  he  learns  that  the  foundation  of  all  the 
good  he  accomplishes  or  attains  to  is  God  Himself  ; 
that  no  ethical  aims  are  good  whicli  lack  a  Divine 
sanction.  It  is  better  for  a  man  when  this  inward 
recognition  of  the  Eternal  Goodness  precedes  the 
active  goodness  of  his  life,  for  then  he  finds  the 
peculiar  secret  of  St.  Paul's  dogma  (Ro  8-'),  'All 
things  work  together  for  good  to  them  that  love 
God.'  But  the  doing  of  good  for  its  own  sake  may 
be  a  man's  first  step  towards  the  Kingdom  of  God, 
and  later  he  will  be  prepared  for  any  self-denial 
or  self-sacrifice  that  may  bring  him  nearer  the 
heavenly  perfection  (Mt  IS^  II  Mk  9-"-  •«■«),  when  he 
has  learned  that  it  is  God's  Kingdom  he  approaches 
and  not  the  invention  of  his  own  sympathetic  im- 
pulses alone. 

In  line  with  this  thought  of  Christ's  is  the  liberty 
in  the  modes  of  doing  good  which  He  frequently 
asserted.  With  Him  the  present  was  always  the 
fitting  opportunity  of  the  good,  though  He  might 
occasionally  ask  the  opinion  of  the  Pharisees  and 
scribes  as  to  whether  it  was  '  lawful  to  do  good  on 
the  Sabbath  '  (Mt  12'2  H  Mk  3^  Lk  6"). 

Some  element  of  altruism  enters  into  all  His 
conceptions  of  "ood.  The  Greek  masters  (especi- 
ally Plato  and  Aristotle)  assert  the  good  of  a  man 
to  lie  in  his  '  well-ljeing'  (Sidgwick's  constant 
rendering  of  fvSai/ioi'la.),  a  condition  which  depends 
on  certain  visible  '  goods '  that  are  his  own  personal 
possession,  and  in  no  way  bring  him  into  contact 
■with  less  fortunate  men,  such  'good  things'  as 
•wealth,  health,  beauty,  and  intellect.  But  Christ 
regards  that  alone  as  good  which  lessens  the  dis- 
tance between  man  and  man,  and  man  and  God. 
The  good  a  man  should  seek  is  that  of  each  and  all 
men,  even  'them  that  hate  you'  (Lk  6^),  for  the 
doing  of  good  to  others  is  "the  final  test  of  the 
practical  value  of  religion,  and  became  the  dis- 
tinctive note  of  the  character  of  Christ  in  the 
Apostolic  days  when  He  was  described  as  one  who 
'went  about  doing  good  and  healing'  (.\c  10*). 
This  is  indicative  of  all  the  -visible  elements  of  the 
good  in  His  teachings.  Ix)ve,  His  supreme  dogma, 
finds  its  essence  in  self-surrender.  The  parables 
of  conduct,  such  as  the  Good  Samaritan,  are  in- 
sistent upon  the  actual  doinu'  of  some  good.  AVhen 
Jesus  sends  the  Baptist  Hi-  imn  rocord,  the  good 
things  that  will  bear  witnc--^  lo  Him.  it  is  a  tale 
of  deeds  of  brotherly  kindness,  of  help  for  the 
blind,  lame,  lepers,  deaf,  the  poor,  and  even  the 
dead  (Mt  11°).  Zacchreus  is  assured  of  his  salva- 
tion when  he  has  learned  to  share  with  his  poorer 
brethren  (Lk  lO"- ").  The  fact  of  giving  is  accepted 
by  riui-t  .1-  till'  rvidence  of  a  desire  to  do  good 
(jlk  14'  .  Ill''  J  "1(1  man  is  not  only  devout ;  his 
pers(in;il   pi'ty   niiy  be  the  surest   basis  for   the 

tnii>  -]'ii  it  iif  ;j iiipss  in  him  ;  but  the  good  must 

take  form  in  some  actual  warring  with  the  world's 


evils,  some  earnest  attempt  to  remedy  the  miseries, 
sufferings,  diseases,  afHictions,  sorrows,  or  jwverty 
of  men.  This  is  the  vital  test  applied  in  the  great 
parable  of  the  Judgment  (Mt  2o"''^-)-  The  Son 
of  IMan  there  asks  no  question  as  to  spiritual 
apprehension,  or  intellectual  convictions,  or  ecclesi- 
astical obedience.  '  The  kingdom  prepared  from 
the  foundation  of  the  world ' — from  the  moment  of 
the  birth  of  mankind— is  for  those  who  saw  and 
setved  the  King  in  brethren  who  were  hungry, 
thirsty,  outcasts,  naked,  sick,  or  in  prison.  Christ 
sanctions  the  popular  judgment  of  what  consti- 
tutes a  good  man, — that  ettectiveness  in  well-doing 
which  moves  steadily  and  lovingly  towards  the 
ultimate  conquest  of  the  world,  that  social  message 
of  the  gospel  which  is  the  enthusiasm  of  true 
goodness,  and  is  able  to  '  overcome  evil  with  good ' 
(Ro  12-').  But  all  such  doing  rests  on  being.  It 
is  intimately  connected  with  each  man's  own 
spiritual  rision  and  condition,  for  it  is  the  rudi- 
mentary realization  of  the  Kingdom  of  heaven  ; 
it  issues  from  that  Kingdom  which  is  'within' 
(Lk  17-'),  where  'glory,  honour,  and  peace'  are  the 
blessings  which  come  '  to  every  one  that  worketh 
good '  (Ro  2'")— a  Kingdom  which  a  man  may  never 
have  explored,  but  which  is  the  ground  from  which 
gi-ows  all  the  practical  good  he  does  (Mt  1'2'*).  If 
the  tree  is  good,  the  fruit  is  good  (v.^),  and  when 
the  whole  being  of  a  man  is  awake  to  the  inflow- 
ing of  the  Divine  Goodness,  he  becomes  the  more 
keenly  sensitive  to  Righteousness,  Truth,  Love, 
and  the  Brotherhood,  and  finds  increasingly  St. 
Peter's  utterance  at  the  Transfiguration  to  be  his 
own:  'Lord,  it  is  good  for  us  to  be  here'  (j\It  17* 
II  :Mk  9=  !  Lk  tp).  The  Good  enters  imperceptibly  ; 
it  is  not  born  of  the  law,  nor  of  any  ethical 
analysis  ;  and  in  the  unexpectedness  of  its  joy  the 
disciple  is  conscious  of  ha\'ing  reached  the  highest 
heaven,  of  having  found  that  delight  in  whatever 
is  good  wiiich  helps  him  to  understand  the  true 
end  of  life,  '  to  glorify  God  and  to  enjoi/  Him  for 
ever.'  Edc.\R  Daplyn. 


i\s  resignation  is  the  ideal  of  the 
Buddhist,  and  valour  of  the  Mohammedan,  so  the 
essence  of  Christianity  is  goodness.  Its  Founder 
was  the  absolute  personification  of  this  character- 
istic quality.  Nothing  short  of  this  could  have 
so  inspired  the  Apostles  and  Evangelists.  Veiled 
within  the  few  imperishable  pages  of  the  Gospels, 
and  perhaps  seen  only  by  the  meditating  mind,  is 
the  figure  of  a  perfect  goodness  once  realized  u]ion 
earth.  It  is  not  the  novelty  of  His  teaching 
that  has  attracted  men,  nor  His  deep  sympathy 
with  humanity,  nor  any  spiritual  utterances  to  the 
Father  (which  are  all  too  rarely  recorded).  Behind 
the  words  and  deeds  of  the  four  biographies  stands 
a  shining  personality,  a  living  type  of  goodnes.s— - 
One  of  whom  they  could  speak  as  being  '  without 
sin.'  The  Evangelists  knew  nothing  of  the  dog- 
matic spirit,  and  could  probably  have  given  no 
clear  definition  and  explanation  of  the  sinlessness 
of  Christ.  To  them  He  was  the  human  expression 
of  the  Di\-ine  Goodness,  and  it  mattered  little 
whether  a  man  should  say  that  the  Goodness  was 
from  eternity,  .so  that  by  its  nature  sin  had  never 
been  a  moment's  possibilitv,  or  that  at  birth 
Christ  had  been  uniquely  endowed  with  a  passion 
for  goodness  that  turned  naturallj-  from  everj-- 
thing  selfish,  injurious  to  others,  or  sinful  either 
to  God  or  man  ;  or  that  at  His  bapti.sm  He  had 
been  set  aside  to  that  brief  ministry  (which  is 
nearly  all  men  know  of  His  earthly  life),  when  the 
voice  from  heaven  was  heard  .saying,  '  This  is  my 
beloved  Son,  in  whom  I  am  well  pleased"  (Mt  ;!'"). 
However  its  genesis  might  be  spoken  of,  tin-  '  sin 
lessness'  of  Christ  is  the  utterance  of  the  ineasuii' 
of     His    goodness    as    it    atl'ecte*!    the    disciples. 


GOODNESS 


GOSPEL 


659 


Throughout  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount  they  woukl 
hear  that  note  of  liuman  tenderness  blended  with 
unhesitating  virtue  wliich  constitutes  goodness. 
This  alone  could  be  the  source  of  that  merciful 
utterance  which  is  perhaps  His  only  new  doctrine 
— '  Love  your  enemies.' 

In  His  message  of  the  Divine  Fatherhood  they 
would  behold  that  goodness  sending  '  rain  upon  the 
just  and  the  unjust '  (Mt  5^^),  forgiving  the  penitent 
us  the  father  forgives  the  prodigal  son  (Lk  15"^')> 
and  even  forgiving  those  whose  repentance  is  yet 
to  come  (23'*).  Such  conceptions  would  be  born  of 
the  goodness  within  Himself,  that  breathed  out  in 
the  intense  sympathy  of  the  story  of  the  woman 
taken  in  sin  (Jn  T'^^-S"),  or  the  defence  of  Mary 
Magdalene  in  the  house  of  Simon  the  Pharisee  (Lk 
•jseff.)^  or  in  the  parable  of  the  Good  Samaritan 
(10"°*')-  The  same  spirit  marks  the  greater  num- 
ber of  the  miracles.  None  could  be  considered  as 
entirely  separated  from  human  interest  and  influ- 
ence, and  the  great  majority  (thirty-one  out  of 
thii'ty-seven  recorded)  were  Avrought  openly  and 
intentionally  for  the  good  of  others.  The  blind, 
the  deaf,  the  jialsied,  the  lame,  the  lepers,  the 
lunatic,  the  hungry  crowd,  the  timid  fishermen,  the 
mourners  for  the  dead, — all  shared  in  the  effective 
power  of  the  innate  goodness  of  our  Lord.  It 
was  as  though,  in  His  purity  and  sinlessness,  the 
very  forces  of  nature  became  obedient  to  His 
transparent  will, — the  one  will  that  sin  has  never 
overcome,  the  one  luminous  purity  in  which  sin 
has  found  no  vitalizing  atmosijliere.  He  had  been 
tried  at  the  beginning  of  His  mission,  but  the 
temirtations  of  the  desert  had  ended  in  triumph. 
The  goodness  that  was  the  breath  of  His  being 
rose  instinctively  above  the  low  promptings  of  a 
selfish  wonder-working,  or  the  presumption  of 
pride,  or  the  vanity  of  power,  even  though  over 
'  all  the  kingdoms  of  the  earth '  (Mt  4'  ||  Lk  4',  Mk 
1").  He  spoke  harshly  to  the  Tempter,  for  good- 
ness does  not  always  win  by  mild  passivity  against 
evil.  He  who  knows  that  God  is  the  beginning 
and  the  end  of  all  goodness  will  waste  little  time 
in  diplomatic  iiailcy  with  the  powers  of  darkness. 
Victory  will  dftni'lii'  in  swift  attack.  So  the 
goodness  of  Christ  is  iini  lisscned  by  His  fierce 
handling  of  the  nKiucy-ciiaiixcr.s  and  traders  within 
the  Temple  (Mt  'Jl'-"',  Jn  2'^"-).  for  He  knows  that 
lower  ideas  of  God  and  goodness  will  unconsciously 
prevail  if  the  house  of  God  becomes  a  place  for 
barter  and  bargain.  It  is  part  of  the  same  zeal 
that  had  kept  Him  about  His  '  Father's  business ' 
in  the  days  of  His  boyhood  (Lk  2-'»),  though  it  takes 
the  more  vigorous  form  we  might  expect  in  man- 
hood. The  inward  knowledge  of  the  simplicity 
and  holiness  of  His  motives  makes  fear  not  only 
impossible,  but  non-existent ;  and  this  is  the  spirit 
that  inspires  every  true  missionary.  He  also,  as 
his  Master,  would  show  the  winning  charm  of  the 
visibly  good  —  the  goodness  embodied  in  a  life 
rather  than  in  doctrines  only — that  which  in  Christ 
could  say  to  the  world,  'I  am  the  bread  of  life' 
(Jn  6==-^),  'I  am  ll,e  why.  the  trull,,  and  the  life' 
(14«),  and  'I  am  the  li.^hl  <.l  Ihe  worM'  (8^=  9'), 
the  witness  of  w  liirh  is  .l.'^ci  ilw.l  liy  St.  Paul,  when 
he  says  that  tlie  fniil  of  the  li;jrit  is  in  all  good- 
ness and  righteousness  and  truth'  (Kph  5^). 

The  goodness  of  Christ  brought  a  new  force  into 
Jewish  religion,  one  that  changed  the  nature  of  it. 
Judaism  was  formal,  ceremonial,  mainly  an  exter- 
nal worship.  Its  prophets  had  striven  to  kindle 
it  into  a  moral  and  spiritual  faith.  But  prophet 
and  priest  had  stood  apart.  In  Christ  the  middle 
wall  was  broken  down,  and  into  the  old  religion 
was  poured  the  new  spirit.  Henceforth  religion 
could  not  be  separate  from  the  moral  (life.  A  man 
could  not  be  imrighteous,  an  evil-doer,  and  yet  be 
religious.     Goodness  became  a  .synonym  for  true 


and  undctiled  religion.  For  man,  having  once  seen 
the  perfect  manhood  of  the  Christ,  and  felt  His 
power  to  overcome  sin  and  death,  had  gained  a 
vision  of  religion  that  might  perpetuate  .such 
a  type,  and  the  vision  would  not  lightly  fade. 
Through  failures  from  within  and  tyrannies  from 
without  the  Christian  would  bear  witness  to  his 
Lord  and  to  his  faith,  by  a  life  of  goodness  modelled 
on  that  of  his  Master.  This  was  the  highest  evid- 
ence he  could  otter  of  the  Divine  Incarnation. 

Edgar  Daplyn. 
GOODWILL.— See  Complacency,  p.  356''. 

GOSPEL. — 'Gospel'  is  the  modern  form  of  the 
Anglo-Saxon  word  '  godspell,'  representing  the 
Greek  word  ei;o77A(0!'.  Formerly  it  was  thought 
to  be  the  literal  translation,  meaning  'good-story.' 
But  now  it  is  generally  accepted  as  meaning  '  God- 
story.'  eua776Xioj'  was  originally  used  for  'the 
reward  of  good  tiilings,'  and  traces  of  this  usage 
are  found  in  l,.\'X  :  ef.  i  S  4'"'.  But  the  word  came 
to  (leiiiite  the  'j;ii(hI  tiiliii;:s'  themselves;  and  this 
is  tlie  ( 'liristian  usage.  It  may  be  noted  here  that 
Dalman  (Tim  Words  of  Jesus,  p.  103)  says  :  '  In  the 
verb  nU'3,  which  must  be  assumed  to  be  the  original 
Aramaic  expression,  the  idea  of  glad  tidings  is  not 
so  inherent  as  in  the  Greek  eva-fy(\liea8a.i.  Even 
in  the  OT  (1  S  4")  ib'3  is  used  of  mournful  tidings. 
...  It  thus  appears  that  the  sovereignty  of  God  is 
the  content  of  a  "message"  or  "  tiding.s,"  and  not 
without  further  qualification  of  "  a  message  of  glad 
tidings." '  It  would  seem,  however,  that  the  choice 
of  the  Greek  verb  ivo.yye\i((iT8ai.,  as  well  as  the  con- 
texts of  the  word  in  the  Gospels,  provide  that 
'further  qualification.' 

1.  The  source  for  the  Christian  usage  is  found  in 
Isaiah.  In  61'  tho  prophet  describes  the  function 
of  the  Servant  of  Jahweh  (or  perhaps  his  own 
function)  in  these  words  :  '  The  Spirit  of  the  Lord 
God  is  upon  me ;  because  the  Lord  hath  anointed 
me  to  preach  good  tidings  unto  the  meek.  .  .  .' 
The  word  is  eiayyeXlaaaeai.  The  meek  are  the 
exiles  in  Babylon.  Good  tidings  are  announced  to 
them.  (i<Hl  is  coming  to  save  them,  and  He  is 
near.  It  is  tlie  acceptable  year  of  the  Lord,  when 
He  sliiill  ileli\er  His  peop'le  from  their  enemies 
and  restore  llieiii  to  their  native  land.  A  simOar 
reference  occurs  in  52'.  A  messenger  hastens  to 
Jerusalem,  a.s  she  sits  in  the  dust  of  her  ruins, 
bringing  '  good  tidings. '  The  exiles  are  to  return  to 
her,  and  she  shall  be  inhabited  again  by  her  long- 
lost  children.  These  instances  exhibit  clearly  the 
meaning  '  good  tidings ' ;  and  both  are  claimed  in 
NT  to  describe  the  Christian  message.  St.  Paul 
quotes  Is  52'  in  Eo  10'^ ;  and  Jesus  makes  Is  61' 
the  text  for  His  sern-on  at  Nazareth  (Lk  4'*). 

This  use  of  the  wor.l  by  Jesus  stamps  it  at  once 
with  its  Christian  signiacance.  '  He  began  to  say. 
To-day  hath  this  scripture  been  fulfilled  in  your 
ears.'  He  claimed  to  be  a  preacher  of  good  tidings 
to  the  poor.  The  poor,  the  captives,  the  blind, 
the  bruised,  are  no  longer  political  exiles.  They 
are  the  bond-servants  of  sin,  those  who  waited  for 
the  consolation  of  Israel,  the  poor  and  outca.st  to 
whom  Judaism  had  no  message  of  hope.  He  is 
Jahweh's  Anointed  sent  to  bring  good  tidings  of 
great  joy  to  all  the  people  (Lk  2'*').  This  descrip- 
tion of  His  mission  seems  to  have  endeared  itself 


to  the  heart  of  Jesus.  He  made  fre(juent  use  of 
the  word,  and  soon  after  the  rejection  in  Nazareth 
He  described  His  Messianic  function  by  it :  'I 
must  preach  the  good  tidings  of  the  kingdom  of 
God  to  the  other  cities  also ;  for  therefore  was  I 
.sent'  (Lk  4").     In  particular,  Jpsns  a|>pvo]iriated 

the  name  'gospel'  for  the  cuntenis  oi  Hi-  ss.ige. 

This  was  His  description  of  it  li.ini  the  li.L.'inning 
of  His  ministry.  St.  Mark  sum-  u|.  i  I..1L  l.i -inning 
thus:    'Jesus   came    into    Galilee    preiuhiiig    the 


660 


GOSPEL 


GOSPEL 


gospel  of  God,  and  saying,  The  time  is  fullilled  and 
the  kingdom  of  God  is  at  hand ;  repent  ye  and 
believe  in  the  gospel.'  There  are  many  proofs  that 
Jesus  used  this  word  'gospel'  to  describe  His 
message ;  cf.  Mt  24'-'  26",  Mk  1«  S^  10=9  13'»,  Lk 
T"  II.  It  is  not  surprising,  therefore,  that  the  word 
came  into  general  Christian  use  to  describe  the 
contents  of  the  preaching  of  Jesus.  All  the 
Synoptics  reflect  this  usage.  In  Acts  and  the 
Epistles  it  is  an  established  custom.  'The  gospel' 
became  the  nomial  Christian  title  for  the  message 
which  Jesus  came  to  proclaim,  and  which  He  sent 
forth  the  Apostles  to  preach  to  every  creature. 

2.  But  closer  examination  shows  that  the  term 
was  not  used  by  the  Evangelists  to  describe  all 
that  Jesus  said ;  nor  was  the  verb  '  preach  good 
tidings '  descriptive  of  all  His  work.  In  Mt.  this 
sentence  occurs  twice :  '  Jesus  went  about  in  all 
Galilee,  teaching  in  their  synagogues,  and  preach- 
ing the  gospel  of  the  kingdom,  and  healing  all 
manner  of  disease  and  all  manner  of  sickness 
among  the  people'  (4^  9^).  It  seems  to  be  an 
accepted  formula  summarizing  the  work  of  Jesus. 
It  contains  three  main  words — 'teaching,'  'preacli- 
ing,'  'healing.'  The  same  distinctions  are  noticed 
elsewhere.  St.  Luke  di.stinguishes  '  teaching '  and 
'  preaching  the  gospel  '  (20') ;  and  in  9=  he  tells 
that  the  Twelve  were  sent  forth  'to  jneach  tlie 
kingdom  and  to  heal  the  siik.'  St.  Mark  does  not 
contrast  the  two  words  '  teacli "  and  '  preacli  the 
gospel'  in  the  same  verse ;  but  in  !"•  -',  he  ascribes 
to  Jesus  'preaching  the  gospel'  and  'teaching.' 
In  the  latter  case  the  efl'ect  produced  by  His 
'teaching'  is  different  from  that  due  to  His 
'  preachin".' 

It  would  seem,  therefore,  that  the  work  of  Jesus 
was  threefold:  He  preached  the  gospel.  He  taught, 
and  He  healed.  If  this  distinction  is  valid,  the 
term  '  Mspel '  did  not  apply  to  all  that  Jesus  saiil 
and  did.  It  was  reserved  for  the  'good  tidings' 
that  He  preached.  In  addition  to  these  'good 
tidings,'  there  was  'teaching'  that  belonged  to 
another  category.  Listeners  would  hardly  de- 
scribe such  teaching  as  Mt  5"''*  by  the  title  ' good 
tidings,'  nor  could  the  word  apply  naturally  to 
Mt  10^-39  12^1-3^  iQ"-^  2p3-«  23.  24 1!.  It  seems  clear 
that  Jesus  distinguished  the  gospel  that  He 
preached  from  the  teaching  that  accompanied  it. 

3.  What  then  was  implied  by  the  term  '  gospel '  ? 
It  was  essentially  '  news'  or  '  tidings.'  It  was  the 
proclamation  of  a  fact  rather  than  instruction  in 
the  art  of  li^dng  well.     It  was  offered  to  belief. 


*).  St.  Luke  uses  the  compound  pi 
'the  gospel  of  the  kingdom  of  God^  (Lk  4«  16'«). 
These  phrases  must  be  studied,  and  in  addition  it 
must  be  noted  that  Jesus  connected  the  gospel 
•with  His  own  person. 

(a)  The  phrase  'the  gospel  of  God'  indicates  a 
message  from  God  and  alxjut  God  that  is  good 
news  to  men.  It  is  certain  that  Jesus  gave  the 
world  a  new  idea  of  God  ;  and  this  gospel  of  Jesus 
was  the  revelation  of  God  a.s  'our  Father  in 
heaven.'  He  did  not  discover  the  category  of 
Fatherhood  in  its  relation  to  God.  This  had  been 
done  under  the  Old  Covenant.  But  He  invested 
the  idea  with  such  radiance  as  to  make  it  a  new 
revelation.  More  specifically.  He  illumined  the 
Fatherhood  of  God  by  teaching  '  the  infinite  value 
of  the  human  soul.'  God  is  not  merely  the  Father 
of  a  people.  He  is  the  Father  of  each  indi\  iihial 
soul  (of.  'thy  Father,' Mt  6*-"*).  His  Fatlierliood 
extends  to  all  sorts  and  conditions  of  men  (Mt  12''"). 
In  particular,  the  I'atlicr  seeks  each  .siiini-r  (Lk 
IS'-f"),  and  welcomes  even  tlie  l>r»di-al  lo  His 
home  (vv."-'=).      This   'gospel  of    God'   includes. 


further,  the  good  news  to  the  heavily  laden  Jew 
that  '  the  Father  seeketh  true  worshippers  to 
worship  in  spuit  and  in  truth  '  (Jn  4'-^ ;  cf.  Mt  11=*), 
and  that  the  Father  is  willing  to  forgive  sins  with- 
out sacrificial  ott'erings  (Mt  9- ji).  And  when  the 
child  of  God  has  entered  into  this  blessed  relation- 
ship with  his  Father  in  heaven,  that  Father  may 
be  trusted  implicitly  (Mt  6=»-").  Prayer  must  be 
offered  to  this  Father  continually  (Lk  18').  The 
Lord's  Prayer  (Mt  6")  '  shows  the  gospel  to  be  the 
Fatherhood  of  God  applied  to  the  whole  of  life  ;  to 
be  an  inner  union  with  God's  will  and  God's  king- 
dom, and  a  joyous  certainty  of  eternal  blessings 
and  protection  from  evil '  (Hamack). 

The  Johannine  tradition  lays  special  empha.sis 
upon  this  Divine  Fatherhood  in  its  relation  to 
Jesus ;  the  relation  between  the  Father  and  His 
children  is  referred  to  in  terms  of  love.  Indeed, 
St.  John  sums  up  this  aspect  of  the  gospel  in  the 
immortal  words,  'God  is  love'  (1  Jn  4').  Jesus 
Himself  spoke  chiefly  of  love  as  the  duty  of  man. 
To  love  God  and  to  love  one's  neighboui-  are  the 
supreme  laws  for  human  conduct  (Mt  22'""'9||). 
But  by  His  constant  speech  about  the  Father, 
Jesus  tauglit  alsn  tinir-  li.vc  to  men.  This  relation 
of  love  betwiiii  Cod  aii'l  man  has  been  pointed  to 
as  the  distin,L;uisliiii^  feature  of  the  gospel.  Thus 
Keville  writes  : 


love.  God  is  the  Heavenly  Father ;  man  is  the  son  of  God ; 
God  loves  man ;  man  ougrht  to  love  God ;  the  relation  be- 
tween the  principle  of  the  universe  and  the  indi\idual  is 
one  of  love,  in  which  the  two  terms  subsist.  God  and  man — 
man  not  losing  himself  in  Gml.  God  not  remaining  aloof  from 
man — meet  in  a  li\ing  comnuinion,  so  that  man's  dependence 
on  God  should  no  longer  be  one  of  compulsion,  but  of  free 
and  joyful  self-oonsecr.ition,  and  that  the  sovereignty*  of  God 
o\  er  nian  should  no  more  appear  a  tyranny,  but  a  rule  which 
we  love  and  bless.  Surh  is  the  distinrti\  e  mark  of  the  Christi- 
anity of  Jesus,  differentiating  it  from  the  other  great  religions.'  * 

(i)  The  phrase  'the  gospel  of  the  kingdom'  de- 
scribes the  good  news  brought  by  Jesus  in  its 
relation  to  that  Kingdom  of  God  or  of  heaven 
which  He  proclaimed.  It  implies  that  the  King- 
dom has  'a  gospel.'  The  gospel  and  tlie  Kingdom 
are  not  co-extensive  any  more  than  the  gospel 
and  God  are.  But  there  is  good  news  concerning 
the  Kingdom,  and  this  good  news  is  an  essential 
part  of  the  message  of  the  Kingdom.  In  brief, 
this  gospel  was  that  the  Kingdom  of  heaven  is 
opened  to  all  believers.  The  message  of  Jesus  was 
that  the  Kingdom  was  not  for  select  classes  or 
nations,  but  for  all.  AU  Jews  were  summoned  to 
share  it ;  even  the  publicans  and  sinners  may 
come  (Mt  2P',  Mk  2"  II).  Nor  are  Jews  alone  to 
walk  in  its  light.  All  nations  must  be  invited 
to  sit  at  its  hospitable  table  (Mt  8"  26'^  Mk  13'"). 
The  conditions  of  entrance  make  it  accessible  to  all. 
It  is  offered  not  to  the  rich  or  to  the  wise,  but  to 
all  who  will  become  as  little  children  (Mt  11=*  18' j, 
Jn  3').  Moreover,  this  Kingdom,  which  is  offered 
to  all,  is  a  far  higher  good  tlian  men  dreamed  (cf. 
Mt  1.3"-  "-■"•).  It  is  a  spiritual  blessedness,  infinitely 
transcending  the  ceremonial  righteousness  secured 
by  legalism,  and  the  political  supremacy  envied 
bj'  the  patriots.  The  Kingdom,  as  Jesus  preached 
it,  ofi'ered  the  highest  conceivable  good  to  all 
men.  It  satisfied  the  religious  instincts  of  the 
race  ;  and  because  these  are  the  deepest  and  most 
universal  instincts,  the  message  that  they  can  be 
satisfied  is  indeed  'good  news^  (cf.  Mt  13 |l).  Men 
had  never  found  true  satisfaction  in  the  material 
forms  of  a  ritualistic  religion.  These  were  the 
husks  tliat  contained  no  nourishment  for  the  .soul. 
Jesus  preached  '  the  gospel  of  the  kingdom  '  when 
He  ofi'ered  the  highest  spiritual  good  to  all  penitent 
and  h\imble  souls. 

(c)  But  these  two  forms  of  the  gospel  do  not 
*  Liberal Chrislianitij,  pp.  09-TO. 


GOSPEL 


GOSPEL 


G61 


exhaust  its  fulness.  The  presence  of  Jesus  in  the 
world  was  itself  a  gospel.  He  connected  the  good 
tidings  with  His  own  person.  As  the  good  news 
Ehoda  brought  to  the  praying  Church  was  that 
Peter  himself  was  at  the  door  (Ac  12"),  so  the 
presence  of  Jesus  in  the  world  was  '  glad  tidings  of 
great  joy  to  all  people '  (Lk  2^").  This  was  due  to 
the  significance  attached  by  Jesus  to  Himself.  He 
was  the  Messiah  (Mt  le'").  His  use  of  the  title 
'Son  of  man'  implies  His  special  significance  for 
the  race.  In  several  of  His  parables  He  referred 
to  Himself  as  the  Son  of  God  (Lk  201^),  as  the 
Judge  and  King  of  men  (Mt  25"'),  as  the  bride- 
groom (Mt  9'^  25") ;  these  and  other  titles  indicate 
the  peculiar  value  of  His  person.  The  interest 
was  not  metaphysical  but  religious.  His  presence 
in  the  world  manifested  the  love  of  God  (Jn  3'"). 
It  proved  that  God  had  not  forgotten  men,  but 
hail  come  to  their  help. 

In  this  conne.xion  the  significance  of  Jesus'  otter 
of  pardon  must  be  noted.  He  raised  much  opposi- 
tion by  claiming  '  power  on  earth  to  forgive  sins ' 
(Mk2'<'||).  Nevertheless  He  exercised  tlie  power 
(Lk  7",  Jn  5"-  --).  There  is  a  close  connexion  be- 
tween this  '  good  news '  and  the  good  news  about 
God  and  about  the  Kingdom.  The  bamer  between 
God  and  the  soul  is  sin.  It  is  sin  that  hinders 
enjoyment  of  the  Kingdom.  Therefore  the  best 
news  that  men  can  have  is  a  message  of  full  and 
free  forgiveness  for  all  repentant,  trustful  souls. 
And  this  was  the  message  preached  by  Jesus. 
He  removed  pardon  out  of  the  sphere  of  material 
sacrifices  in  the  temple,  which  limited  the  scope  of 
forgiveness  to  a  few,  and  He  made  forgiveness  a 
possible  boon  for  everybody.  Thus  He  opened  the 
way  into  the  Kingdom  even  to  the  publicans  and 
sinners. 

(d)  But  the  core  of  this  aspect  of  the  gospel  is 
reached  only  when  it  is  connected  definitely  with 
the  redeeming  work  of  Jesus.  He  was  conscious 
of  a  profounder  mission  than  preaching  the  gospel. 
More  than  once  He  gave  utterance  to  words  that 
touch  the  deepest  mysteries  of  redemption.  He 
came  to  give  His  life  a  ransom  (Mt  20=*).  He  was 
the  Good  Shepherd  giving  His  life  for  the  sheep 
(Jn  10").  He  foretold  His  death  and  resurrection, 
directly  He  had  brought  His  disciples  to  confess  His 
Messiahship  (Mt  16-').  On  the  betrayal  night  in  the 
upper  room.  He  gave  the  cup,  saying,  '  This  is  my 
blood  of  the  covenant  which  is  shed  for  many '  (Mk 
14=^).  It  was  impossible  for  Jesus  to  connect  the 
gospel  chiefly  with  His  death,  before  He  was  cruci- 
fied. But  it  seems  unquestionable  that  He  referred 
to  His  death  as  achieving  a  wonderful  deliverance 
for  men  in  respect  of  sin.  The  sacrificial  element 
was  not  introduced  into  His  life  for  the  first  time 
when  He  oflered  Himself  to  die.  '  The  Son  of  man 
came  to  minister ' ;  and  all  through  His  ministry 
He  was  giving  Himself  up  for  others.  Neverthe- 
less, He  looked  upon  His  own  death  as  having  a 
peculiar  significance,  awful  for  Himself  (cf.  Mk 
1432-39 11)^  jjut,  blessed  for  men  (Jn  1#).  It  is  certain 
that  His  followers  accepted  this  interpretation  of 
the  cross.  At  once  the  death  of  Jesus,  followed  as 
it  was  by  His  resurrection,  was  made  the  main 
theme  of  Apostolic  preaching  (Ac  2^  3"  4'"  etc.). 
So  central  was  this  preaching  about  the  death  of 
Christ,  that  St.  Paul  identifies  '  the  gospel '  with 
the  message  about  'Christ  crucified'  (1  Co  1"). 

The  meaning  of  the  term  'gospel'  as  used  by 
Jesus  may  now  be  summed  up.  It  seems  to  de- 
scribe the  message  He  taught  concerning — (a)  the 
fatherly  nature  of  God ;  (b)  tlie  inclusiveness  and 
spirituality  of  the  Kingdom  ;  and  (c)  God's  provision 
for  men's  deliverance  from  sin  through  His  own 
mediation.  This  gospel  was  not  only  the  theme  of 
His  preaching,  but  was  exemplified  continually  in 
His  manner  of  life.     He  revealed  the  Father  by 


His  own  attitude  to  men.  He  illustrated  the  spirit 
of  the  Kingdom  by  seeking  the  lost.  He  mediated 
the  grace  of  God  oy  His  unsparing  self-surrender. 
In  particular,  He  accepted  death  upon  the  cross  in 
obedience  to  the  Father's  will,  in  order  that  thereby 
the  scattered  .sons  of  God  might  be  gathered  again 
to  their  Father  (Jn  1P=). 

i.  We  must  return  now  to  the  distinction  be- 
tween '  i)reaching  the  gospel '  and  '  teaching. '  Much 
of  the  teaching  of  Jesus  could  not  be  directly 
classed  under  the  '  gospel '  as  sketched  above.  It 
was  ethical  teaching.  It  rested  upon  the  gospel 
as  its  foundation.  It  appealed  ultimately  to  the 
nature  of  God  for  its  sanctions.  It  was  connected 
with  the  Kingdom,  being  the  legislation  that  be- 
fitted such  a  Kingdnni  nf  grace.  Nevertheless  it 
was  uii  I'lliical  ((id.',  intended  to  guide  those  who 
have  previously  .('(ciilcil  t  he  gospel.  The  teaching 
of  Jesus  is  tl'ie  lii«-l..«.k  of  the  Kingdom.  The 
gospel  of  Jesus  is  the  manifesto  of  the  Kingdom, 
explaining  its  nature  and  inviting  all  to  become  its 
citizens. 

This  probably  explains  the  subsequent  use  of  the 
term  '  gospel.'  Wonderful  as  the  teaching  of  Jesus 
was,  the  gospel  seemed  still  more  marvellous.  At 
any  rate,  that  gospel  seemed  of  first  importance. 
It  had  to  be  preached  before  the  teaching  of  Jesus 
could  follow  ;  antl  whilst  points  of  contact  could  be 
found  between  the  teaching  of  Jesus  and  other 
ethical  systems,  there  was  nothing  in  the  world 
like  the  gospel  of  Jesus.  And  thus  the  term 
'  gospel '  was  most  frequently  on  the  lips  of  the 
Apostles  ;  and  by  a  natural  process  it  was  extended 
to  cover  the  entire  contents  of  their  report  of  Jesus, 
including  His  teaching.  All  that  the  Apostles  had 
to  tell  about  Jesus  was  called  'the  gospel.'  This 
usage  is  reflected  in  Mk  P,  where  the  word  refers 
to  the  whole  stoi-y  of  Jesus  Christ. 

5.  Two  points  need  a  further  reference.  The 
gospel  brought  by  Jesus  was  not  entirely  new.  It 
had  its  roots  in  the  past.  The  preaching  of  Jesus 
was  in  historic  continuity  with  the  preaching  of 
the  prophets  and  of  the  Mosaic  law  (Mt  5").  But 
that  earlier  preaching  was  the  faint  light  of  dawn  : 
His  words  are  the  strong  light  of  noonday  (Jn  8'^). 
Hitherto  men  had  only  heard  rumours  of  varying 
trustworthiness  ;  He  brought  official  news  that  was 
full  and  final.  Some  keen-eyed  spirits  had  caught 
sight  of  the  Fatherhood  of  God,  as  the  Alps  may  be 
seen  from  the  terrace  at  Berne  on  a  fine  evening. 
But  Jesus  led  men  into  the  heart  of  the  mountains. 
The  hopes  of  the  nation  had  hovered  for  centuries 
round  a  kingdom.  But  only  Jesus  disclosed  the 
trae  nature  of  the  shining  city  of  God.  Prophets 
had  encouraged  lonely  exiles  with  the  cry,  '  Behold 
your  God  cometh  ! '  But  it  was  not  until  Jesus  ap- 
peared that  one  who  waited  for  the  consolation  of 
Israel  could  say,  '  Mine  eyes  have  seen  thy  salva- 
tion '  (Lk  2»'').  The  gospel  preached  by  Jesus  gave 
full  substance  and  final  form  to  the  faint  and 
tremulous  hopes  of  centuries.  For  this  reason  the 
gospel  must  be  the  unchanging  element  in  the 
Church's  message.  Being  'news'  about  God  and 
the  Kingdom,  it  cannot  change  until  they  change. 

A  distinction  has  been  drawn  between  the  gospel  which  Jesus 
preached  and  His  ethical  teaching.  The  Church's  teaching  of 
the  Christian  ethics  must  be  a  changing  message.  It  is  the 
application  of  the  principles  of  Christ's  teaching  to  present 
circumstances.  The  Christian  ethic  of  the  last  generation  is 
out  of  date  in  presence  of  to-day's  problems.  The  Church  must 
study  the  ethical  principles  enunciated  by  Jesus,  in  order  to 
apply  them  to  modern  needs.  But  whilst  the  Christian  ethi.- 
develops  and  is  modified  by  circumstances,  the  Christian  gospel 
cannot  change.  It  is  good  news  about  facts.  It  must  be  stated 
in  modern  phraseology,  that  men  may  hear  it  in  their  owii 

tongue  and  understan(' ■■      " -^  -^    -  -     "'» -    -'   *- "-" 

through 


If  this 
the  confusion  that 

;:hurch's  true  function.     . „ . 

ihe  gospel.    But  very  different  views  are  held  as  to  what  is 
ncluded  under  the  term.     In  particular,  there  is  an  increasing 


ition  is  remembered,  it  will  ex- 
,  in  modern  times  as  to  the 
agreed  that  this  is  to  preach 


demand  for  a  social  ffospel,  whilst  sonie  maintain  that  the  t'ospel 
cannot  be  concerned  with  social  conditions.  I'rnl.ut'Iy  the  term 
'gospel'  is  bein^  used  in  two  senses.  As  .lesns  vim.-(1  it,  'the 
gospel*  is  a  definite  message,  distinct  from  the  (  inibtian  ethic, 
and  also  distinct  from  the  work  of  healing  jiractised  by  the 
Lord.  But  from  Apostolic  days  onward  the  term  '  gospel  *  has 
been  used  to  cover  the  threefold  function  —  preachmg  the 
gospel,  teaching  the  ethic,  and  healing  the  sick.  In  its  original 
and  more  limited  sense,  '  gospel '  is  simply  the  '  news '  brought 
by  Jesus.  In  its  historical  and  broader  sense,  '  gospel '  is  the 
whole  '  God-story  * :  it  includes  the  entire  record  of  Jesus 
Christ's  life  and  work.  Thus  used,  the  term  covers  the  ethic 
that  Jesus  Christ  taught,  and  the  social  service  that  He  prac- 
tised. In  this  sense  .'gospel '  includes  all  ethical  teaching  and 
social  service  that  are  in  accordance  with  the  mind  of  the 
Master.  It  is  open  to  question,  however,  whether  the  Church 
has  not  suffered  loss  by  broadening  the  reference  of  this  word. 
Jesus  used  it  to  describe  the  'good  news'  He  brought  to  the 


6.  A  brief  space  must  be  given  to  the  con:sidera- 
tion  of  tlie  gospel  in  the  rest  of  NT  in  so  far  as  it 
is  connected  \«th  Christ.  In  one  sense  this  would 
involve  an  exposition  of  many  chapters  of  Acts 
and  of  all  the  tnistles,  for  He  is  '  the  head-stone  of 
the  corner,'  ana  the  gospel  is  only  '  complete  in 
Him.'  But  all  that  can  he  attempted  is  an  indi- 
cation of  the  place  occupied  by  ClirLst  in  the 
gospel  as  preached  by  the  Apostolii,  Church. 

When  we  pass  from  the  Gospels  to  ihe  Acts  and 
the  Epistles,  we  are  conscious  at  once  of  a  change 
of  standpoint.  In  the  Gospels,  Clrrist's  disciples 
are  a  group  of  learners.  They  stand  beside  their 
Master  at  the  veiy  centre  of  truth,  and  they  try 
to  follow  His  gaze  as  it  sweeps  the  horizon  of  the 
love  and  the  kingdom  of  God.  In  the  Epistles 
the  relative  positions  are  altered.  The  disciples 
have  become  teachers ;  but  they  do  not  stand  by 
their  Master's  side  at  the  centre.  Christ  alone  is 
at  the  centre  ;  the  disciples  are  on  the  circum- 
ference of  the  circle  and  are  gazing  at  Him.  Their 
ettbrts  are  directed  towards  the  Lord,  whom  they 
would  persuade  everybody  to  know  (Ac  2^,  1  Co 
2^).  The  Lamb  is  in  the  midst  of  the  tlirone,  and 
those  who  have  been  gathered  into  the  Kingdom  of 
God  worship  Him  (Rev  5").  The  Apostles  are 
seeking  to  obey  their  Lord's  injunction  to  preach 
the  gospel  to  every  creature  (Mk  16").  But  their 
interpretation  of  this  command  was  to  urge  their 
hearers  to  believe  on  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ 
(A.-  lij"). 

This  i.lL-ntilication  of  'the  gospel'  with  Christ 
Hiuiself  may  be  accounted  for  partly  by  the  ex- 
perience of  the  Apostles.  They  went  forth  as 
witnesses  (Lk  24*),  not  as  philosophers.  They 
had  to  tell  what  great  things  God  had  done  for 
their  souls.  They  could  do  this  only  by  talking  of 
Jesus.  For  He  had  become  to  them  the  mediator 
of  God's  redeeming  love  (Mk  8^,  Jn  l-"").  They 
could  not  be  witnesses  concerning  repentance  and 
remission  of  sins  -without  tilling  their  lips  with  the 
one  '  name  given  among  men  wherein  we  must  be 
saved' (Ac  4'2). 

But  another  point  must  be  considered.  The 
Apostles  were  commanded  to  '  preach  the  gospel.' 
The  instruction  had  a  definite  meaning  because  of 
their  Master's  use  of  the  words.  Jesus  Christ 
preached  the  gospel  of  the  fatherly  love  of  God, 
establishing  a  Kingdom  into  which  all  men  might 
be  admitted,  and  He  offered  Himself  as  the  authori- 
tative proof  of  that  love  (cf.  Mk  1'2«  ||  Jn  8*^).  The 
presence  in  the  world  of  the  Son  of  man,  the 
Messiah  of  prophecy,  demonstrated  God's  love  in 
providing  for  men's  deepest  needs.  Now  it  is 
evident  tliat  the  crucifixion  of  Jesus  .shook  such  a 
gospel  to  its  foundations.  If  the  life  of  the  Me 
anic  Son  of  man  ended  with  tlie  cross,  His  speech 
about  God's  fatherly  love  and  a  heavenly  Kingdom 
seemed  worse  than  idle  talk.  How  could  the  gospel 
preached  by  Jesus  survive  His  death  ?  Only  if 
He  Himself  survived  His  deatli.     To  rehabilitate 


His  gospel.  His  authority  must  be  rehabilitated. 
This  result  was  .secured  by  the  resurrection  of 
Jesus  and  by  HLs  ascension.  When  they  had  seen 
Him  '  alive  after  his  passion,'  His  disciples  were 
prepared  to  go  and  '  preach  the  gospel  to  every 
creature '  (Ac  P). 

But  it  is  evident  also  that  these  events  them- 
selves had  profound  importance.  They  did  more 
than  rehabilitate  the  authority  of  Jesus :  they 
brought  His  own  significance  for  the  gospel  into 
clear  relief.  Such  unique  events  set  the  person- 
ality of  Jesus  in  the  heart  of  the  gospel,  investing 
Him  with  peculiar  importance  (Ac  2*^-*  S""'-*  5'S 

1  Jn  l'-5,  Ko  l^  1  P  13-8).  Although  they  could 
not  realize  at  once  all  that  was  involved  in  such 
events,  the  Apostles  were  compelled  to  take  a 
new  attitude  to  Jesus,  and  to  adopt  a  fiesh  theory 
of  His  person.  He  had  been  their  Master  :  now 
He  becomes  '  the  Lord.'  Tlie  primitive  Christian 
commtinity  used  the  term  before  it  was  able  to 
construct  an  adequate  Clrristology.  But  it  '  called 
Jesus  "the  Lord"  because  He  had  sacrificed  His 
life  for  it,  and  because  its  members  were  convinced 
that  He  had  been  raised  from  the  dead  and  was 
then  sitting  on  the  right  hand  of  God  '  (Harnack). 
The  significance  of  Jesus  was  decided  religiously, 
though  not  metaphysically,  at  once.  From  the 
first,  Jesus  Christ  had  the  religious  value  of  God. 
Men  were  exhorted  to  believe  in  Him  (Ac  "2^). 
The  final  expression  of  the  Apostolic  meditation 
upon  the  person  of  the  Lord  was  given  by  John 
(Jn  I'-'*).  But  in  Apostolic  thought  the  gospel 
could  never  be  preached  apart  from  Jesus  Clinst, 
nor  could  the  significance  of  Jesus  Christ  be  under- 
stood apart  from  the  gospel.  In  Him  God's  re- 
demptive purposes  and  the  sinner's  acceptance  of 
them  may  meet.  Thus  He  is  the  central  figure  in 
history  (Col  1'*"'').  He  is  at  once  the  Saviour 
appointed  by  the  Father  (Ac  2^'';  Ro  P  S^,  Gal  4-') 
and  the  Heatl  of  the  redeemed  race  (1  Co  15— ■■", 
Gal  3^,  Eph  1-'=). 

But  this  conception  of  the  person  of  Jesus  gave 
a  deeper  meaning  to  the  great  events  in  His  ex- 
perience which  had  so  affected  His  disciples.  It 
may  be  said  that  the  events  and  the  person  reacted 
upon  one  another.  Such  events  "lorified  the 
person ;  the  glorified  person  deepened  the  signifi- 
cance of  the  events.  At  the  first  the  Crucifixion  of 
Jesus  was  looked  upon  as  the  wicked  act  of  the 
Jews,  which  God  had  frustrated  and  even  turned 
to  His  own  glory  by  raising  Jesus  from  the  deati 
(Ac  2^-^  3«"  4'"  5^").  The  Resurrection  was 
accepted  at  once  as  a  proof  of  Divine  Sonship  [I.e.). 
The  Ascension  not  only  sealed  this  proof  of  Jfesus 
Christ's  Messianic  dignity,  btit  also  exalted  Hini 
to  a  place  of  sovereignty  over  the  world  (Ac  2*^ 
316. 21  412  531)  But  further  reflexion  upon  them 
invested  these  unique  events  with  profounder 
significance.  His  Death  is  the  means  whereby  all 
men  may  be  forgiven  and  may  be  reconciled  to 
God — a  sacrifice  for  the  sins  of  the  world  (Ro  3^, 

2  Co  5™-  -',  1  P  1'',  1  Jn  1'  -J-).  His  Resurrection  is 
the  earnest  of  the  new  life  into  which  all  those  are 
introduced  who  are  born  anew  by  faith  in  Him 
(Ro  6^  1  Jn  3--  =<).  He  is  the  first-fruits  of  them 
that  .sleep  :  His  Resurrection  involves  the  resurrec- 
tion to  eternal  life  of  all  in  whom  He  lives  (1  Th 
4"-5'»,  1  Co  15).  His  Ascension  is  the  pledge  of 
the  glorification  of  all  who  are  united  to  Him  (Ro 

§29.  M    pii  320.  21). 

This  aspect  of  the  go.spel  is  reflected  in  the 
Apostolic  preaching.  The  Apostles  '  preached 
Christ'  (1  Co  P*).  All  the  sermons  in  the  early 
chapters  of  Acts  are  full  of  Christ.  The  Epistles 
identify  the  gospel  witli  Him  (Ho  1'"!.  In  |)ar- 
ticular,  the  preaching  dwelt  upun  His  Crucilixum, 
His  Resurrection,  and  His  Ascension,  though  tlic 
same  '  mind '  was  discerned  in  the  wlmle  story  of  tlie 


GOSPEL 


Incarnation  (I'h  '2').  It  sliuuld  be  remembered 
that  all  this  reference  to  '  Christ  and  him  cruci- 
fied '  as  '  the  gospel,'  is  shot  through  and  through 
with  Jesus  Christ's  own  message  of  the  love  of  God 
in  establishing  the  kingdom.  Although  the  gospel 
as  it  was  presented  by  the  Apostles  assumed  a  new 
aspect,  becoming  a  message  about  Christ  who  died 
and  rose  and  ascended  to  the  Father's  right  hand, 
this  was  not  intentled  to  divert  attention  from  the 
fatherljr  love  of  God  and  the  Kingdom  into  which 
He  invited  men.  But  it  was  only  through  this 
message  about  Christ  that  such  a  gospel  could  be 
ofl'ered  authoritatively  to  tlie  world.  Moreover, 
the  gospel  was  seen  ni  its  true  j^lory  only  when 
viewed  through  the  njcliuin  (.1  Christ's  Death  and 
Kesurrection  and  Asceiision.  Without  the  inter- 
pretation of  these  events,  God's  fatherly  love  was 
a  vague  dream,  and  the  heavenly  Kingdom  was  an 
impossible  ideal  (1  Jn  4»- ",  Eph  2'-^-'\  1  P  2^-"). 
Thus  Wellhausen,  IJG^,  p.  386,  declares  that  St. 


to  transform  the  gospel 
>el  of  Jesus  Christ,  so 
the  prophecy  of  the 
its  actual  fulfilment 
cw.  :iucordingly,  re- 
lir  I'niuro  has  become 
li,i|i|"'in'd  and  is  now 
iii>li:i-i^  'Ml  faith  than 


Paul' 

of  tllr  Kii.,' 
that  11...  -.,- 
coming  ot  1 1 
by  Jesus  C 
demption  fr< 
something  w 
present.     H( 

on  hope  ;  he  am  iri|i;)ii.-,  th,.  -.■n-.r  ,,f  fiilurc  1)1  iss  in 
the  present  fci-l  II  i;j  nf  Ih-Ihl;  ( iinl's  mhi  ;  he  \  ainiui-lM- 
death    and    aliv.i.ly    IcnU    i\,f    iirM-    lih-    ,,ii    ,. Ill  III, 

The  presence  of  Clirisl  luimn-  im-ii  is  uineasiuyly 
emphasized  as  the  supreme  proof  of  the  love  of 
the  heavenly  Father  (Gal  l^-s  46- ',  1  Co  P,  Ro  3=^ 
n^^,  1  Jn  4»,  1  P  P  etc.).  'The  kingdom'  is 
mentioned  frequently  as  the  objective  of  Christian 
effort  (Ac  S^-'  14^2  19«  20'-^  28^^.  3i_  n,,  1417^  1  Co  4-"  & 
152^™,  Gal  521,  Eph  5'',  Col  1"  4",  1  Th  2'=,  2  Th  P, 
2  Ti  4'- 18,  Heb  12=8,  j^,  o5_  2  P  1",  Rev  l»  12'")  ;  and 
the  ideas  of  Jesus  about  tin'  Kini^ilom  are  woven 
into  the  texture  of  A|icisliilii-  pii'iicliing.  But  the 
primary  interest  of  tln'  Apn-lli'-  «:is  to  preach  the 
gospel  of  the  Kingdom  :  ami  tlial  meant  the  pro- 
clamation of  Jesus  Christ  a.--  tlie  i)i\  iiiely  appointed 
Saviour,  through  whom  all  men  may  share  the 
privileges  of  sonship  vith  God. 

Finally,  it  may  be  pointed  out  that  although  the 
term  '  gospel '  already  in  AjJostolic  times  was  used 
in  the  broader  sense  with  which  we  are  familiar, 
yet  the  NT  does  distinguish  the  gosijel,  as  a  glad 


message  of  life  and  peace  th; 
to  accept  at  once,  fnuii  tlie 
the  converts  must  olny.      1 

about  God  and  the  Kiiiuil 

as  true  against  the  olilci- (on 
.ludaism.  Tli,-Nvritrr  t..  tlir 
theClin-lia.i  vn-|M.|  as  (!,.•  In 
of  thr  (IM    I'uM.nanl.      SI.  1' 


reryl 


free  from  the  trammels  of  Judai(-  sacrament- 
arianism.  The  NT  writers  preach  the  gospel  as 
a  message  of  transcendent  importance  and  of  great 
joy  to  all  people.  But  they  do  not  rest  content 
with  preaching  the  good  new^.  SI.  I'anl  ^pukr  i.f 
a  'wisdom  of  "God"  wliicli  i-miM  lir  lan;Jii  ..nlv  I.. 
the  spiritual  (1  Co  2).  And  in..  1  .a  liir  lijnAii'.^ 
are  attempts  to  explain  that  '  \vi.-,doui,'  and  to 
enforce  obedience  to  it,  on  those  who  had  already 
become  Christians  by  accepting  the  gospel. 
LiTKitATMiE.-H.astings'  Dll.   artt.    'Gosin-f   '.7,..su3  Christ,' 

to  RniV    .    '  ,.,.!  !■  ,,'',■:"/,'.;.■   'i', ',',., ',",'",■  .'■',''    '.'"'-i',,''!':     .''."[  '  1'.' 
GoUh,    ■■  ■.        .,     I-    .,..,,;  / 


t::;: 


GOSPELS.  — The  canonical  Gospels  (including 
the  Synoptic  Problem)  are  fully  discussed  in 
separate  articles,  so  that  the  scope  of  this  article 
does  not  necessarily  include  more  than  the  subjects 
indicated  in  the  following  outline  : 

1.  Definition  of  the  term  'Gospels.' 

2.  What  brought  Gospels,  oral  or  written,  into  being. 

3.  Transition  from  oral  to  written  Gospels. 

4.  Literary  use  of  the  term  '  Gospel '  in  the  Pauline  Epistles. 

0.  Source  of  St.  Paul's  knowledge  of  the  Gospel  story. 

C.  Evidence  of  tlie  existence  of  Gospels,  oral  or  written, 
when  St.  Paul  wrote. 

7.  A  Gospel  is  not  a  Life  of  Christ. 

8.  NT  use  of  the  term  'Gospel'  in  the  sense  of  a  written 

document. 

9.  Principle  which  guided  the  Church  in  her  selection  of 

Gospel  material. 

10.  Eelation   between    the   canonical    Gospels    and   recent 

literary  discoveries. 

11.  Discussion  of  the  evidence  from  Papias  as  to  an  original 

Hebrew  Gospel. 

12.  Other  considerations   bearing   on   an    original    Hebrew 

Gospel. 

13.  A  possible  theory  of  the  Synoptic  Gospels. 

1.  The  word  '  Gospels '  in  Christian  terminology, 
and  as  employed  in  this  article,  signifies  accounts 

of  til..;  earthly  life  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  of  His 
iiiaiiili-~lation  in  llir  liistorical  sphere,  narratives 
of  III-  words  and  works,  it  being  unimportant 
\\  hrllirr  sucii  nairati\cs  were  delivered  by  word  of 
mouth  or  committed  to  writing. 

The  term  iiotyj-iXios  occurs  for  the  first  time,  in  extant  Chris- 
tian literature,  in  the  well-known  passage  in  .Tustin  Martyr's 
First  Apolopy,  c.  66,  where  he  refers  to  it  as  Lfinf  tlu-  usual 
designation  of  the  Memoirs  of  the  Apostli  s,    ,    >        .t.    ,  ,  „. 

K.T.x.    Justin'G  language  here  certainly  iinjl!  hi- 

wrote,  the  term 'Gospels  '  was  in  common  u-i   i  nn-M.iti 

Church.  The  phrase  ri  i.-rtfi,-„/i,>,a,u^roc  ti,i  .:.  r^.  .-.,...>  i,c.  GT;  is 
intended  only  as  a  description,  intelligible  to  heathen  readers, 
of  the  nature  and  authority  of  the  tiiKyyiKioi, 

2.  The  first  question  that  presents  itself  is, 
Whattvasit  that  rail,;!  (;,,s,,.ls  iiifn  h-inrf?  The 
answer  is  to  be  f<ninil  in  llial  1  liaiailcristic  of 
Christianity  by  wbii.li  it  i-  ili-i  iiijin-lail  from  all 
other  religions,  viz.,  Iliat  il  rommis  the  relation 
of  mankind  to  a  Person,  n<.t  the  lelaiion  of  man- 
kind to  a  new  system  of  morals  or  |.lnloM.|iliy. 
Jesus  Christ  was,  of  course,  a  ,i;real  -  we  wonM  .-ay 
the  greatest — moral  teaelier  of  mankind  ;  yet  tlie 

1  (.Hiristian  consciousness  has  always  felt  that  what 
•lusus  was,  and  did,  and  suffered,  has  an  import- 
ance and  significance  far  transcending  that  which 
lie  taught.  Christian  ethics  is  tleri\ed  from  and 
<le|iemlent  upon  the  Person  of  Jesus  the  Son  of 
I  Joil  manifested  in  time.  If  it  be  permissible  to 
Use  ill  this  connexion  the  metaphor  in  which  the 
Nicene  Creed  endeavours  to  set  forth  the  relation 
of  the  Second  Person  of  the  Trinity  to  tlie  First, 
the  ethical  teaching  of  Christ  is  light  generated 
from  light.  It  is  not  that  Jesus  Christ  is  important 
and  significant  to  the  historian  as  the  originator 
ami  jiroiuulgator  of  a  singularly  lofty  code  of 
morals.  Imt  rather  that  in  the  days  of  CiBsar 
.Aii^iisiiis,  'the  eternal  life  which  was  with  the 
Father  was  manifested  unto  us'  (1  Jn  V-) ;  and  from 
that  life  so  manifested  certain  new  commandments 
of  love  resulted  as  a  necessary  consequence,  and 
'  old  commandments  which  we  had  from  the  begin- 
niiiL!  '  (2')  awoke  into  new  life,  and  put  on  a  strength 
wlinh  iliey  kail  not  had  before. 

.\oi  liiii-,  |iei  li.i[is,  more  clearly  proves  the  truth 
oi  \\li.ii  ha-  lieeii  just  said  as  to  the  importance 
III    llie    rlin-liiii    -\"steiii  of   tlie  l,ei-onaniistory  of 

.le,ns,  IlianllHl.Hl'  Ihal    111-  1 :, eon  audBis 

ileal  h   are   I  real! -0    III    1  he  (  ;o-]iel    1  l,i  I  1  ,  M  n  o  :e-  liaviug 

a  si'^nilieaiiee  oul  \\ei^liiii-- all   el-e.      In   I  he  ease  of 


664 


GOSPELS 


GOSPELS 


all  other  great  men,  birth  and  death,  which  are 
universal  and  inevitable,  have  for  the  most  part 
only  a  chronological  importance.  But  in  Apostolic 
references  to  the  life  of  Jesus  Christ  His  human 
ancestry  is  co-ordinated  wth  His  resurrection, 
e.<jf.  Ko  V-*  'the  gospel  of  God  .  .  .  concerning 
his  Son,  who  was  born  of  the  seed  of  David  .  .  . , 
who  was  declared  to  be  the  Son  of  God  ...  by  the 
resurrection  of  the  dead ' ;  and  2  Ti  2^  '  Remember 
Jesus  Christ,  risen  from  the  dead,  of  the  seed  of 
David,  according  to  my  gospel.'  Acknowledgment 
of  the  Lordship  of  Jesus,  and  belief  in  the  historical 
fact  of  His  resurrection,  are  declared  to  have  saving 
efficacy  (Ro  10^).  It  is  evident,  therefore,  that  a 
narrative  of  the  main  facts  in  the  liistory  of  Jesus 
must  have  been  from  the  very  first  the  foundation 
or  framework  of  the  preaching  of  those  who  propa- 
gated His  religion.  These  preachers  met  inquirers 
for  the  way  of  salvation,  not  with  a  recitation  of 
the  SaWour's  gracious  words,  but  with  '  truth  em- 
bodied in  a  tale ' :  '  Believe  on  the  Lord  Jesus  and 
thou  shalt  be  saved'  (Ac  16*').  A  little  considera- 
tion will  make  it  clear  that  a  proclaiming  of 
the  resurrection  of  One  who  had  been  slain  entails 
of  necessity  an  account  of  who  and  what  manner  of 
man  He  was,  and  why  He  was  put  to  death. 

From  indications  scattered  through  the  Book  of 
the  Acts,  we  gather  that  an  evangelic  narrative 
described  Jesus  as  fulfilling  in  His  lineage,  char- 
acter, and  actions  the  various  foreshadowings  of 
Messianic  prophecy  as  hitherto  accejited ;  while 
the  fact  that  He  had  suffered,  and  died,  and  been 
raised  the  third  day,  was  shown  to  reveal  the 
Messianic  character  of  passages  of  the  OT  wUch 
had  not  been  liitherto  clearly  understood.  The 
Resurrection,  again,  was  declared  to  constitute  an 
authentication  by  God  Himself  of  the  prediction  of 
Jesus  tliat  He  would  come  again  to  judge  the  living 
and  the  dead ;  and  salvation  from  the  terrors  of 
the  judgment  to  come  was  offered  on  the  conditions 
of  repentance,  followed  by  baptism  into  the  name 
of  Jesus.  This  is  the  barest  outline  of  the  main 
featui-es  in  the  first  Christian  preaching :  the 
accomplislunent  in  Jesus  of  all  that  was  hoped  for 
in  the  Christ ;  His  death  and  resurrection  illumi- 
nating the  dark  places  of  prophecy,  and  proving  the 
truth  of  His  own  claims  ;  judgment ;  repentance  ; 
baptism. 

It  is  scarcely  necessary  to  add  that  these  facts 
or  requirements  would  be  '  commended  to  every 
man's  conscience'  (2  Co  4-)  by  examples  of  the 
wisdom,  sublimity,  and  beauty  of  the  SaWour's 
moral  and  spiritual  teaching.  Of  this  we  have  an 
example  in  St.  Paul's  speech  at  Miletus  (Ac  20"). 
In  this  case  the  audience  was  composed  of  Chris- 
tian elders  ;  and  it  may  be  that  a  true  instinct  led 
the  early  preachers,  in  addressing  the  unconverted, 
to  dwell  on  the  Woes  rather  than  on  the  Beatitudes. 
However  tliis  may  be,  the  meagre  sermon  sketches 
contained  in  the  Book  of  the  Acts  do  not  enable  us 
to  make  a  positive  statement  as  to  wliat  the 
preachers  said,  beyond  what  is  indicated  in  tlie 
outline  given  above. 

3.  We  may  say,  then,  tliat  it  was  the  needs  of 
the  Cliristian  Churcli  in  her  natural 


first  called  Gospels  into  existence.  The  language 
of  St.  Luke  {V-  ')  confirms  what  we  might  have 
otherwise  guessed  as  to  the  history  of  the  transition 
from  oral  to  written  narratives.  Those  who  had 
been  privileged  to  be  '  eye-witnesses  and  ministers 
of  the  word '  '  delivered '  (irap^Soo-ai')  to  others 
what  they  deemed  essential  in  what  tliey  had  seen 
and  heard  in  the  course  of  their  attendance  on  their 
Master,  and  '  many '  of  their  hearers  '  took  in  hand 
to  draw  up  narratives'  (dvardfoff^ai  Si-irfW^")-  It 
may  be  remarked  in  passing  that  St.  Paul,  who 
always  claimed  an  authoritative  knowledge  of  the 
capital  events  of  the  Evangelic  history,  uses  the 


word  wapadiSdmi  of  his  o\ra  communications  to  liis 
converts  (1  Co  11--  ^  15^  2  Th  2'^  3'^). 

It  is  impossible  to  say  how  early  the  necessity 
for  written  Gospels  arose.  The  expajision  of  the 
Church  beyond  Juda;a  began  possibly  immediately 
after  the  Pentecostal  outpouring  of  the  Holy  Spirit ; 
it  certainly  was  in  operation  aft«r  the  martyrdom 
of  Stephen  (Ac  11").  The  number  of  tliose  who 
could  be  reckoned  as  '  eye-witnesses  and  ministers 
of  the  word '  cannot  have  been  very  great.  Even  if 
we  make  the  large  assumption  that  every  one  of 
the  120  persons  who  were  gathered  together  for 
the  election  of  Matthias  (Ac  1'*),  or  of  the  500 
hrotliren  to  whom  the  Lord  appeared  (1  Co  15"), 
could  be  so  described,  and  that  they  were  all  sub- 
sequently engaged  in  active  evangelistic  work,  yet 
the  labour  of  spreading  the  new  faith,  even  within 
the  limits  of  Palestine,  would  have  soon  outgrown 
their  power  to  cope  with  it.  As  far  as  the  original 
witnesses  were  concerned,  their  memory  would 
enable  them  to  teU  all  that  was  necessary  of  the 
Saviour's  life,  even  as  much  a;3  is  contained  in  the 
longest  of  our  present  Gospels.  Indeed,  there  can 
be  no  doubt  that  from  constant,  perhaps  daOy,  re- 
petition of  some  portion  of  the  stoi-y,  the  recollec- 
tion of  the  whole  would  soon  assume  a  stereotyped 
form.  But  as  the  number  of  evangelists  who  had 
not  '  known  Clirist  after  the  flesh '  multiplied  in 
every  direction,  it  would  very  soon  become  impos- 
sible for  the  original  witnesses  even  to  instruct  all 
those  who  were  to  teach  others.  To  meet  this  im- 
perative and  gro\ving  need  —  the  instruction  of 
preachers — was,  we  may  well  believe,  one  of  the 
objects  with  which  the  narratives  alluded  to  by 
St.  Luke  in  his  preface  were  first  drawn  up.  It  is 
natuial  to  suppose  that  at  first  such  narratives 
were  used  to  refresh  the  memory  of  the  evangelists  ; 
afterwards,  when  the  first  generation  of  believers 
had  quite  passed  away,  the  wTitten  Gospels  would 
be  openly  read,  as  being  the  most  authentic  account 
of  what  the  original  witnesses  had  seen  and  heard. 

Dr.  Salmon  is  of  opinion  that  even  before  the 
Crucifixion  some  of  our  Lord's  discourses,  or  por- 
tions of  them,  had  been  committed  to  writing. 
Without  going  so  far  as  tliis,  it  is  scarcely  open  to 
reasonable  doubt  that  WTitten  Gospels  of  some  sort 
were  in  circulation  well  -witliin  the  period  covered 
by  the  Acts  of  the  Apostles.  In  order  the  better 
to  see  this,  we  shall  examine  the  evidence  supplied 
by  the  Epistles  of  St.  Paul.  His  writings,  from 
their  e.xtent  and  the  comparative  certainty  with 
which  they  can  be  dated,  afford  the  most  satisfac- 
tory grounds  on  which  to  base  a  conclusion. 

i.  It  is  obvious  that  the  question  when  the  word 
ei5a77^\ioi'  was  first  used  in  the  sense  in  which  we 
use  it  when  we  speak  of  the  '  Gospel  according  to 
St.  Matthew,'  is  quite  distinct  from  the  question  as 
to  when  such  written  nan-atives  first  appeared  and 
received  any  degi-ee  of  public  recognition.  The 
first  step  towards  what  may  be  called  the  literary 
use  of  the  term  evayy^Xiov  is  to  be  found  in  passages 
where  the  word  is  used,  not  of  the  '  good  news ' 
it.self,  but  in  the  sense  of  someone's  presentation 
of  it. 

1  Th  15  '  Our  gospel  canie  not  unto  you  in  word  only." 

2  Th  21^  •  God  called  you  [unto  salvation]  through  our  gospel.' 
Gal  lu  'The  gospel  which  was  preached  by  me  .  .  .  is  not 

after  man.' 
Gal  22  '  I  laid  before  them  the  gospel  which  I  preach  among 

the  Gentiles.' 
Ro  21G  '  God  shall  judge  the  secrets  of  men,  according  to  my 

gospel,  by  Jesus  Christ.' 

1  Co  ISl*"-  '  1  make  known  unto  you  .  .  .  the  gospel  which  I 

preached  unto  you  ...  in  what  words  I  preached  it 

2  Ti  28  '  Remember  Jesua  Christ,  risen  from  the  dead,  of  the 

seed  of  David,  according  to  my  gospel.' 

In  these  instances,  certainly  in  most  of  them, 
tlie  word  'gospel'  means  not  so  much  St.  Paul's 
manner  or  method  of  presenting  the  good  news  of 


GOSPELS 


GOSPELS 


6G5 


salvation  to  liis  hearers,  as  the  actual  substance  of 
what  he  said.  It  is  true  tliat  the  substance  of  what 
any  preacher  of  the  gospel  wouUl  say  would  include 
more  than  a  narrative  without  comment,  sucli  as  is 
one  of  the  Synoptic  Gospels  ;  yet  St.  Paul's  gospel 
evidentlj'  ditl  contain  some  merely  historical  matter. 
This  point  will  come  up  for  consideration  later. 
Here  it  is  sufficient  to  say  that  the  above  instances 
of  St.  Paul's  use  of  the  word  '  gospel '  as  meaning 
the  substance  of  his  evangelic  preaching,  would 
naturally  suggest  the  application  of  the  term  to  a 
narrative  embodying  all  that  it  was  necessary  to 
know  of  the  life  of  Jesus  Christ  as  a  means  of 
salvation.  So  much  was,  no  doubt,  claimed  by 
their  compilers  for  the  short  narratives  which  St. 
Luke's  Gospel  was  intended  to  sujiersede  ;  much 
more  may  it  be  claimed  for  any  one  of  the  four 
Gospels  which  have  come  down  to  us. 

5.  An  interesting  question  now  arises.  What 
was  the  content  of  the  Gospel  presented  hy  St.  Patd 
to  the  Churches  which  he  evangelized?  and  what 
was  its  relation  to  our  existing  Gospels,  or  any  of 
t/iem  ?  It  ought  to  be  unnecessary  to  remark  that 
in  an  examination  of  the  Pauline  Epistles  for  the 
jmrpose  of  this  question,  any  inference  drawn  from 
silence  is  peculiarly  precarious.  It  is  as  unreason- 
able to  expect  to  find  Gospel  material  in  St.  Paul's 
letters  as  it  would  be  to  find  it  in  the  letters  of  a 
pastor  or  bishop  of  our  own  day.  Paradoxical  as 
it  may  at  first  seem,  it  is  probably  none  the 
less  true  that  the  Cliurches  to  wliich  St.  Paul  wrote 
had  a  more  intimate  and  living  acquaintance  with 
the  facts  of  the  Gospel  history  than  is  usual  witli 
Cliristians  in  our  own  day.  Every  member  of 
those  Churches  had  been  recently  converted  from 
either  heathenism  or  Judaism.  Consequently  the 
interest  they  felt  in  their  newl3'-acquired  faith  was 
fresh  and  absorbing ;  and  the  Apostle  writes  as 
though  the  main  facts  of  tlie  Gospel  history  were 
familiar  to  his  readers.  He  is  able  to  appeal  in 
the  most  natural  way  to  their  knowledge  of  the 
character  of  Jesus,  'e.g.  Ro  15^  '  Christ  pleased 
not  himself ' ;  2  Co  8'  '  Though  he  was  rich,  yet  for 
your  sakes  he  became  poor ' ;  and  2  Co  10'  '  I  .  .  . 
mtreat  you  by  the  meekness  (5ia  Trjs  irpairTiTos) 
and  gentleness  of  Christ.'  It  would  doubtless  be 
impossible  to  prove  that  St.  Paul  had  in  mind  re- 
corded sentiments  of  Christ  similar  to,  or  identical 
with,  '  The  Son  of  Man  came  not  to  be  ministered 
unto,  but  to  minister '  (Mt  202») ;  '  The  Son  of  Man 
hath  not  where  to  lay  his  head '  (Mt  8-'»,  Lk  9^) ;  'I 
am  meek  {wpavs)  and  lowly  in  heart'  (Mt  U-").  But 
it  may  be  safely  affirmed  that  there  was  in  those 
to  whom  St.  Paul  wrote  a  knowledge  of  deeds  and 
words  of  Christ  that  made  the  Apostle's  appeal 
intelligible. 

Whattlien  was  the  source  of  St.  Paul's  knowledge 
of  the  Gospel  narrative  ?  To  many,  perhaps  most. 
Christians  this  question  may  appear  superfluous, 
in  vieAv  of  the  Apostle's  own  explicit  statements : 
Gal  1"  '  The  gospel  which  was  preached  by  me 
.  .  .  came  to  me  through  revelation  of  Jesus 
Christ,'  and  1  Co  11»  'I  received  of  the  Lord 
that  which  also  I  delivered  unto  you.'  Even  if  we 
grant,  what  is  likely  enough,  that  the  passage 
from  Galatians  refers  to  St.  Paul's  favourite 
doctrines,  yet  his  language  to  the  Corinthians 
seems  to  imply  that  his  knowledge  of  an  ob- 
jective historical  circumstance  came  to  him  in  a 
miraculous  manner.  The  present  writer  has  no 
desire  to  minimize  the  miraculous  element  in  the 
NT  narrative,  or  to  call  in  question  tlie  reality  of 
St.  Paul's  visions  ;  but  in  this  case  an  explanation 
can  be  given  of  the  expression  *  I  received  of  the 
Lord '  which  will  both  satisfy  the  requirements  of 
St.  Paul's  language  and  also  take  the  matter  out 
of  the  region  of  subjective  visions,  and  so  render 
the  statement   historically  intelligible  and  verifi- 


able. Tlie  question  is,  What  would  one  of  St. 
Paul's  contemporary  fellow-Christians  ha\e  under- 
stood by  '  I  received  of  the  Lord ' ''  Tlie  answer  is 
supplied  by  jiarallel  phrases  in  the  Book  of  the 
Acts,  and  by  what  we  learn  from  that  book  and 
other  sources  as  to  the  ministry  of  prophets  in  the 
Apostolic  Church.  When  we  read  (Ac  13-),  '  The 
Holy  Gliost  said.  Separate  me  Barnabas  and  Saul,' 
etc.,  and  again,  (16')  'The  Spirit  of  Jesus  suffered 
them  not,'  it  is  natural  to  ask.  How  did  the  Holy 
Gliost  speak?  and  how  did  the  Spirit  of  Jesus 
control  the  movements  of  St.  Paul  and  his  com- 
pany? It  was  through  the  utterance  of  an  ac- 
credited projihet,  or  number  of  prophets,  in  either 
case.  This  is  )  ilaced  beyond  doubt  by  an  instance 
gi\en  later; (21"),  where  a  prophet,  Agabus,  begins 
his  prediction  with,  '  Thus  saitli  the  Holy  Ghost ' 
(of.  20'-  'The  Holy  Ghost  testifieth  unto  me  in 
every  city ').  We  see,  then,  that  Ac  13=  means  that 
the  separation  of  Paul  and  Barnabas  was  in  conse- 
quence of  an  utterance  of  the  prophets,  or  one  of 
them,  who  are  mentioned  in  the  previous  verse ; 
while  in  16'  it  was  an  utterance  of  Silas  (see  15^), 
if  not  of  Paul  himself  (see  Ac  13',  1  Co  14^'),  that 
forbade  the  missionaries  to  cro.ss  the  frontier  of 
Bithynia. 

We  are  now  enabled  to  understand  '  I  received 
of  the  Lord '  ( 1  Co  1 1^)  in  the  same  sense  as  we 
interpret  '  The  Spirit  of  Jesus  suflered  them  not.' 
St.  Paul  did  not  really  mean  that  his  knowledge 
of  the  Gospel  history  had  been  acquired  without 
human  intervention,  nor  can  he  have  intended  his 
readers  so  to  understand  him.  What  he  meant  to 
convey  was  that  he  was  convinced  that  the  evan- 
gelist, or  the  source  whence  he  derived  his  informa- 
tion, was  indeed  inspired  by  the  Spirit  of  Jesus. 

The  alternative— evangelist,  or  source— has  been  purposely 
suggested,  in  order  to  leave  it  an  open  question,  as,  indeed, 
with  our  scanty  information  it  must  remain,  whether  St.  Paul 
derived  his  knowledge  of  our  Lord's  life  from  oral  teaching  or 
from  a  written  document.  At  the  time  of  his  conversion  there 
was  a  Christian  conmiunity  of  some  importance  at  Damascus ; 
and  it  is  probable  in  the  highest  degree  that  the  Church  there 
had  the  advantage  of  hearing  the  story  of  Jesus  from  one  of 
those  who  had  companied  with  Him  during  His  ministry.  On 
the  other  hand,  St.  Paul's  own  statement  (Gal  lie  17),  •'!  con- 
ferred not  with  flesh  and  blood  ...  I  went  away  into  Arabia,' 
suggests  a  retirement  for  solitary  study,  meditation,  and  prayer. 
There  does  not  seem  any  extreme  improbability  in  supposing 
that  even  at  that  early  date  there  was  in  circulation  a  Gospel 
narrative  in  Aramaic,  or  even  in  Greek.  In  any  case,  it  is  un- 
reasonable to  question  that  Saul  the  persecutor  needed  some 
instruction  or  study  before  he  could  '  proclaim  Jesus,  that  he 
is  the  Son  of  God.' 

It  cannot  be  denied,  however,  that  the  language  of  the 
heavenly  vision  (Ac  im),  '  It  is  hard  for  thee  to  kick  against 
the  goad,'  points  most  naturally  to  a  long  previous  struggle 
between  prejudices  inborn  and  trained  and  the  strange  attrac- 
tiveness of  Jesus  of  Nazareth,  whose  glorious  deeds  and 
gracious  words  may  have  become  known  to  the  voung  Pharisee 


Jerus.aleni  from  Tarsus. 

ling  to  which  he  could  not  be  indifferent. 

xecrable  heresy  or  the  only  way  of  salvatii 

urged  1  ■ 


was  either  an 

All  that  he  had  learnt  froi 

vice  of  blood,  upon  the  threshold  of  the  mind '  (In  Meimr. 

iii.);  the  preventing  grace  of  God  bade  him  'embrace  it  as 

his  natural  good.' 

All  that  we  can  certainly  state  with  regard  to 
the  Gospel  story  known  to  St.  Paul,  however  he 
acquired  his  knowledge,  is  that  his  allusions  to  it, 
direct  and  indirect,  '  proceed,'  to  use  Paley's  jihrase 
(Evidences,  i.  7),  'upon  the  general  story  which 
our  Scriptures  contain ' ;  while  it  certainly  was  not 
identical  with  any  of  the  foiu-  we  now  possess. 
This  latter  point  is  proved  by  the  enumeration  in 
1  Co  15  of  the  appearances  of  the  risen  Lord.  Of 
the  five  appearances  there  mentioned,  two,  namely 
that  to  James  and  that  to  500  brethren,  are  not 
mentioned  in  the  canonical  Gospels.  It  is  to  be 
noted,  as  possibly  significant,  that  the  appearance 
to  James  was  recorded  in  the  Gospel  according  to 
the  Hebrews  (Jerome,  de  Vir.  illustr.  c.  2). 

6.  It  would  be  irrelevant  to  the  purposes  of  this 
article  to  call  attention  to   any  conesjjondences 


GC6 


GOSPELS 


between  the  Pauline  Ej  i-.tles  and  oui  pie'^ent 
Gospels  other  than  those  that  aie  Instoiical  oi 
literary.  It  would  lead  us  too  fai  aheld  to  dibcusb 
St.  Paul's  Cliristology,  and  to  inqmie  how  far  it 
was  based  on  extant  recoided  statements  of  Jesus 
about  Himself,  how  fai  on  OT  and  subsequent 
Messianic  conceptions,  and  how  far  on  what  >\e 
may  for  convenience  call  the  Johannine  theolo^-y 
which,  as  distinct  from  its  Johannine  e\piession 
seems  to  have  existed  in  the  Chuich  tiom  the  be 
ginning. 

The  faithfulness  of  God  to  His  promise  that  the  Chi  st 
should  be  not  only  of  the  seed  of  Abiaham  b  it  al  o  of  the 
lineage  of  David,  is  as  markedly  emphasized  b  bt  Pa  il  as  t  i 
in  the  Gospels ;  Ro  lo*  '  Chr  st  hath  been  made  i  i      ister  of 

the  promises  given  unto  the  fathers  woids  \hichecho  those  of 
Zaoharias  (Lk  1"--  "3) ;  Eo  13  '  Born  of  the  seed  of  Da\  id  accord 
ing  to  the  fiesh ' ;  2  Ti  28  '  Of  the  seed  of  David    according  to 

There   is  no  explicit  reference  to  the  A  r       h    th    i    the 


)  refer 


Pauline  Epistles.  The  expr 
and  'the  childbearing '  (1  Ti 
latter  possibly,  to  '  the  seed  of  the 

The  account  of  the  institut  on         ) 
St.  Paul  'received  of  the  Lord    (1 
betrayal  of  the  Lord  Jesus,  ai  d  oti 

closely  to  that  given  by  St.  Luke  I 

edition  of  his  Gospel  revised  h  s 
information  received  from  St    Pa  1      I 
(1  Co  1016)  and  in  1416  we  ha.\  e  aUu 
tion  which  have  always  been  used       ll     Li         »        lb       I 

St.  Paul's  references  to  the  death  of  Chri  t  are  for  the  most 
part  doctrinal,  not  historical.  He  ins  sts  on  its  \  oluntary  char 
acter  :  '  He  gave  himself  for  our  sins  (C  al  l-"  cf  "0  Eph  52  "' 
Tit  2'-').    The  words  of  Jesus  extant  onh  in  Mt   O-M   The  Son 


ivell  a.s  those 
torn 


kath  of 


underhe 

Jesus  is  spoken  of  as  an 

1  Co  153,  1  Ti  26,  Tit  21-').     OI 

Christ's  death  is  also  stronj,] 

when  instituting  the  Supper. 

It  cannot  perhaps  be  certa  nl  affirmed  that  Col  S"  Even  as 
the  Lord  forgave  you,  so  also  lo  (cf  Eph  4J  )  was  suggested 
by  the  sentiment  of  '  F.ither,  foi  t,  e  the  n  (Lk  '>3*')  for  the  v  erb 
is  different,  Lk.  having  ijmm.  Col.  and  Eph.  z^P't'f^'-  Nor 
can  we  base  any  argument  on  the  statement  in  1  Th  215,  that 
'the  Jews  killed  the  Lord  Jesus'  (see  Ac  S'S).  There  remains 
one  definite  historical  allusion,  1  Ti  U13  '  Christ  Jesus,  who  before 
Pontius  Pilate  witnessed  the  good  confession.'  Our  Lord's 
answer,  'Thou  sayest' (i.e.  'yes'],  to  Pilate's  question, '  .\rt  thou 
the  king  of  the  Jews?'  which  is  the  only  confession  before 
Pontius  Pilate  reported  in  the  Synoptic  Gospels,  hardly  satisfies, 
important  though  it  is,  the  requirements  of  St.  Paul's  solemn 
adjuration. 

"The  proclamation  by  Jesus  before  Pilate  of  the  nature  of  His 
Kingdom,  and  that  He  had  come  for  the  sole  purpose  of  bearing 
witness  unto  the  truth,  which  is  recorded  in  the  Fourth  Gospel, 
is  indeed  a  '  good  confession ' ;  and  we  must  remember  that 
although  St.  John  did  not  commit  his  (lospel 


l..n-  after  the  death  of  St.  Paul,  vil, 

i::I.  --  .s-    li-t    ]ir./pared 

tn  .i-.rrt  tl.,a  it  is  a  work  of  fictiOM,  1 

'      :-      :■•"      ..We  to 

,|U,„ii.ir,  il,:a  tlie  circumstances  rernr.l. 

1    i.  :■.••!   ■•'■ I  them. 

:'.■',■.,  kn.AvntnSt.  Paul.    The  omisii.  ..i 

-        :  :      ilospels 

,.t    tl.i-   sul,.i.uire  of  'the  good  conf.- 

-lir;,kiim  IS  nnt  morc  remarkable  than 

ll.t!-ir  silence  .as  to  the 

Mr-'i  "1  '  -  'Jt  the  risen  Lord  to  Jam 

s  and  to 'duo  brethren 

■''l";>V,n,-  ..n  now  to  allusions  by  St. 

Paul  to  the  moral  and 

«l.iriui;.l  teu.liing  of  Jesus,  thert  .are  on 

1^.     Th.  -.    u..     (1)  1  Co 

I'i"  '•''But' tn.to 'the 'marriJ.'rT''".  >  ' '!  'l' ' 

:  ..■    [,  hut.  the 

Lord,  That  the  wife  depart  not  h.,n,  h, 

depart,  let  her  remain  uriu.urn.l,  ..,   . 

...    ..     I.      ...':!.'.!   1,.  her 

husband);  and  that  the  busl.aiiJ  1-,.^.   i 

■.       tiiir  Lord's 

general  prohibition  of  divorce  is  foui,, 
but  the  prohibition  of  divorce  of  h.r 

which,  or  its  equivalent,  St.  Paul  lui.- 
only  in  Mk  wA      It  is  conceivable  t' 

■In.-ll.,    .,..., K-.   i,    h.uii.l 

omitted  by  Mt.  and  Lk.  either  as  un 

being  almost  unheard  of,  or  as  implied 

,  .iiir  l...i".l  -.1.    '  .1  .1  ... 

that  marriage,  generally  speaking,  is  ii 

'  The  Lord  ordaine.1  that  they  which  j.r 

live  of  the  gospel.'    The  reference  is  t" 

■Th,.  l,,h  ..n.  !    ,         ..i-lh'.. 

of  his  food  '  (Mt  nil"),  or,  more  prolwlih 

by  St:  Luke  (liiV),  ,„  whirl,   ■  liir,- '  i- 

'-I'lii.i'  :i,i..'.l"i,'.',"    :,'„„V,- 

That  the  refereinv  i.  tn  ihr  hitler  f(in 

the  tact  that  the  ...mh-  ,.-,^r„  m  i  T 

The  natural  sens.-  ..i   1  T,   M-  i,  il,..i  tit 

Dn  7     There  are 
1  to  that  source 


(1)  tl  at  the    01    r  Ic 

tl       o     d    f  a  tl  11  V   t  (.1   II  1      )   and  (2)  that  it 

ould  be  su  Iden  X  1  1  oke  1  I  (1  Tl  )  The  wording  of 
ths  latter  pv sage  ren  arkable  liour  el  es  knon  pertecth 
that  the  day  of  the  Loid  so  cometh  as  a  th  et  i  tl  l  night  The 
onh  |.lace  in  our  pic  ent  Gospels  here  the  jn  Igi  enttiumpet 
1  niei  tioned  is  Mt  4  and  in  \  «  of  the  same  hapter  we  ha\  e 
tl  e  illustration  of  the  thief  s  unexpected  and  unsuspected 
attack 

There  are  in  conclusion  a  number  of  passages  in  w  hich  it  is 
lilhc  It      tt      ee  lef  lences  to  recorded  savings  of  Chnst 

Hn  1  I  lr(  JoT!)  to  all  their  dues  etc  See  Mt  2''21, 
■\Ik  I         I  I        lei  unto  C  isar    etc  («toJ»t() 

1 1        si  alt  lo  t  th\   1  eighbour  as  th\self 
I  the  »e  o    1  ul  le  of  the  Law      hee  Mt 


ito  that  which  is 
h  is  e\  li  See  Mt 
ints  and  harmless 

hy  not  rather  take 


ol  to  touch  a  woman  This 
timei  t  of  St  Paul  s  is  in 
preserved  only  ' 


eunuchs  for  the  kingdom  of  hea\  e 

prefaces  this  saj  ing       \11  n  en 

the\  to  whoi  1  It       ol  ^'     hn^ 

lIu   on      Ho   belt  c     h  i  a    h    I 

1  Co  9"    I  1  a\  e  a  ste    ai  Ish  i 


1615 


The  nieagreuess  of  historical  material  containeil 
in  these  references  to  Jesus,  His  acts  and  sayings, 
which  are  to  be  found  in  the  Epistles  of  St.  Paul, 
will  cease  to  surprise  us  when  we  compare  them 
with  the  baldness  of  the  Creeds  of  the  Church, 
even  of  the  Constantinopolitan. 

7.  The  truth  is  that  we  have  been  liitherto  mis- 
led by  the  '  Lives  of  Christ '  which  have  from  time 
to  time  appeared.  The  assumption  that  underlies 
an  attempt  to  write  the  Life  of  any  one  is  that  it  is 
possible  to  give  an  account  not  only  of  his  birth 
and  death,  but  to  arrange  in  some  orderly  chrono- 
logical sequence  the  movements  of  his  life,  using 
the  term  '  movement '  in  its  most  comprehensive 
signification.  Tliis  it  is  well  nigli  impossible  to  do 
in  the  case  of  our  Lord's  earthly  miiiisl  ly.  P.etween 
the  age  of  twelve  years  :ui'l  Hi-  .Irntli  the  only 
events  which  really  mark  iiitci\.ils  .wr,  II  is  Imptisiii 
by  Jolm,  the  Temptation,  ami  the  I'miisliguration. 
It  is  true  that  tlic  ImiuiHi  Gospel  notes  the  Pass- 
overs whiih  took  ]>\:iri-  iliiring  our  Lord's  ministry ; 
but  it  caiiiKit  III-  s.ii.l  th.it  any  of  the  attempts  to 
arrange  the  i  Ik  iiiii^laiiics  ana  discourses  recorded 
in  till-  SyiK.iitics  sii  ti.s  til  lit  in  with  St.  John's  notes 
III  liiiic  liave  liccii  Mirh  .is  to  compel  belief.  More- 
iiM'i,  tiltliiiuj;h  cimrlusions  based  on  internal  evi- 
ileiiuc  must  always  be  more  or  less  precarious,  yet 
there  are  instances  of  sayings  of  Jesus  which  have 
ill  early  place  in  the  Synoptic  record,  but  wliich 
tiom  their  tone  it  is  difficult  to  assign  to  an  early 
st.iuc  of  our  Lord's  ministry. 

A  ( ;i  ispel,  in  fact,  is  not  a  biography.     What  are 

III  s.ixiii;:  efficacy  in  the  events  of  our  Lord's  life 

.111-   Hi-  liirth,  death,  and  resurrection.     The  fact 

'ill     lli.  went  about  doing  good,  and  healing  all 

'  1 1-  oppre.ssed  of   the   devil'  (Ac   W),  and 

11      I  xample  .and   His  moral  and  spiritual  dis- 

1   I  -  I  liiew  a  new  light  on  the  relations  of  men 

to  (lull  tiiiil  to  one  another,  this  too  is  of  great  im- 


GOSPELS 


GOSPELS 


667 


portauce;  Imt  there  is  not  any  practical  significance 
whatever  in  tlie  order  in  wliicli  tliis  or  tliat  miracle 
was  performed,  or  this  or  tliat  discourse  spoken. 
It  is  not  likeljf  tliat  tlie  Apostolic  preachers  dwelt 
more  on  the  historical  sequence  of  the  works  and 
words  of  Jesus  than  do  those  in  modern  times ;  and 
in  consequence,  speaking  generally,  such  sequence 
would  be  disregarded,  even  by  original  witnesses. 
The  events  of  any  one  memorable  day  might  be 
remembered  and  repeated  exactly  in  the  order  in 
which  they  had  occurred ;  and  thus  we  have,  no 
doubt,  in  Mk  1  an  account  of  the  incidents  that 
were  indelibly  impressed  on  Peter's  mind  in  con- 
nexion with  the  day  on  which  he  finally  left  all 
and  followed  Jesus. 

8.  We  are  now  ready  to  discuss  the  question,  Is 
there  any  instance  in  the  NT  of  the  term  '  Gospel ' 
applied  to  a  toritten  document?  There  are  perliaps 
two  such  cases. 

Before  citin;?  them,  it  may  be  well  to  premise,  (1)  that  they 
were  written  at  a  time  wlien  there  must  have  been  written 
accounts  of  some  sort  of  our  Lord's  works  and  words,  and  whun 
the  term  'Gospel'  was  unquestionablv  applied  to  oral  narratives 
of  the  life  of  Jesus  ;  and  also  (2)  that  in  Ignatius  (,Phil.  5)  •  the 
Gospel' is  quite  naturally  applici I  to  the  Evangelic  story,  and, 
being  co-ordinated  with  'the  Apostles'  and  'the  Prophets,'  im- 
plies that  the  story  was  written. 

The  passages  are :  Mk  1'  '  The  beginning  of 
the  gospel  of  Jesus  Clirist,  the  Son  of  God ' ;  and 
Rev  14"  'I  saw  another  angel  flying  in  mid  heaven, 
having  an  eternal  gospel  to  proclaim  unto  them 
that  dwell  on  the  earth.'  However  visions  are  to 
be  explained,  they  are  essentially  pictures,  seen  by 
the  eye  before  they  are  interpreted  by  the  mind. 


This  picture  of  the  angel  'having  an  eternal  gospel' 
plausibly  suggests  a  figure  with  a  scroll  or  roll  ' 
his  hand. 


The  opening  clause  of  St.  Mark's  Gospel  has 
indeed  been  explained  as  parallel  to  Ph  4'^,  where 
'  the  beginning  of  the  qospel  is  relative  to  the  person 
apprehending  it'  (Grimm-Thayer),  as  though  it 
referred  to  the  preaching  of  'John  the  Baptist. 
This  interpretation  seems  to  the  present  writer 
far-fetched.  It  is  surely  more  natural  to  take  it 
as  the  title  of  the  book,  and,  as  Dr.  Sahuon  thinks, 
raodeUed  on  Hos  1-  'Apx*)  Xdvou  Kupiou  Ei/'fltrije.  It 
is  not  easy  to  give  reasons  why  a  considerable 
interval  should  elapse  between  the  application  of 
the  term  '  Gospel '  to  an  oral  narrative,  and  to  the 
same  narrative  when  committed  to  writing.  It 
may  be  fairly  asked.  How  would  the  writer  of  the 
Second  Gospel  have  been  likely  to  describe  his 
work  ?  It  is  not  probable  that  St.  Mark's  Gospel, 
as  we  have  it,  was  actually  the  first  narrative 
drawn  up.  Nor  can  it  be  fairly  said  that  the  lan- 
guage of  St.  Luke,  in  his  preface,  proves  that  he 
was  unacquainted  with  the  terra  'Gospel'  in  the 
sense  of  a  document.  The  use  of  a  Christian 
teclmical  term  would  have  seemed  to  St.  Luke  out 
of  place  m  a  section  in  which  he  was  carefully 
using  what  he  deemed  his  best  literary  style. 

9.  What  has  been  said  in  explanation  of  St. 
Paul's  statement  that  his  knowledge  of  Gospel 
facts  had  been  received  from  the  Lord,  i.e.  from  a 
man  inspired  by  the  Lord,  a  prophet-evangelist, 
suggests  the  answer  to  the  question,  Ho^o  did 
the  Church  recognize  tlie  inspiration  of  the  nar- 
ratives which  she  firutlly,  and  at  <r  ren/'carli/  date, 
acquiesced  in  as  authoritatirc  Gospels?  it  was 
through  the  double  and  almost  simultaneous  action 
of  the  original  Evangelist  or  Evangelists,  and  the 
judgment  of  the  Church  on  the  sections  of  the 
Gospel  story  delivered  on  successive  Lord's  Days, 
both  directed  and  suggested  and  controlled  by  the 
Holy  Spirit,  the  Spirit  of  Jesus. 

It  is  the  intention  of  the  writer  of  the  present 
article  to  deal  with  this  subject  from  the  stand- 
point of  the  Cliristian  Church  to  a  greater  degree 
than  is  usual  now   among  critical  writers.     The 


indignant  remonstrance  of  St.  Paul  to  the  indi- 
vidualistic Corinthians  has  a  certahi  relevance  to 
some  modern  exponents  of  early  Christian  litera- 
ture :  '  What  ?  was  it  from  you  that  the  word  of 
God  went  forth?  or  came  it  unto  you  alone?' 
(1  Co  14^^).  One  sometimes  hears  or  reads  dis- 
cussions on  Christian  literature  which  indicate 
that  for  the  speaker  or  writer  the  Christian  Church 
has  no  existence.  The  collection  of  writings  which 
we  call  the  NT  is  treated  as  though  it  were  a 
fortuitous  collection,  the  selection  of  wliich  was 
determined  arbitrarily,  or  at  least  on  principles 
which  have  now  no  claim  to  respect ;  as  though 
Christianity  were  merely  a  matter  of  literary  or 
antiquarian  interest,  so  that  some  new  discovery 
might  change  our  whole  conception  of  Christ's 
work  and  words,  or  alter  the  value  of  the  Gospels 
already  received.  Now  the  existence  of  the  Chris- 
tian Cliurc  li  during  the  first  centuries  of  our  era  is 
a  fact ;  a  f:ut  the  recognition  of  which  has  no  con- 
nexion with  any  speii.-il  views  we  may  hold  as  to 
what  ou.^ht  til  he  the  rdiistitution  or  organization 
of  the  Ciiurch  in  our  oxmi  times.  It  is  surely  un- 
philosopliical  to  ignore  a  fact  which  was  admittedly 
one  of  transcendent  importance  to  the  first  Chris- 
tians. The  Gospels,  as  we  have  them  now,  are  a 
product  of  the  Church  of  Apostolic  and  sub- 
Apostolic  times.  It  is,  to  say  the  least,  conceiv- 
able that  some  principle  determined  the  Church  in 
her  final  selection  of  Gospels  ;  and  any  suggestion 
as  to  what  that  principle  was  cannot  be  witliout 
interest,  even  if  it  fails  to  compel  assent. 

It  may  be  proper  to  remark,  by  way  of  caution, 
that  an  inquiry  into  the  principle  or  principles  by 
which  the  Church  was  guided  in  her  selection  of 
authoritative  Gospels  is  not  precluded  by  any 
theory  of  inspiration.  Even  if  we  hold  that  the 
sacred  books  only  are  inspired,  and  that  the  Church 
was  not  inspired,  or  guided  by  the  Holy  Spirit,  in 
her  choice  of  them,  the  question  must  arise,  How 
did  the  Church  recognize  the  inspiration  of  the 
books  ? 

'As  the  Father  hath  sent  me,  even  so  send  I 
you'  (Jn  20-').  These  words  of  the  risen  Lord 
express  the  idea  that  the  Church  is  the  representa- 
tive of  Christ  on  earth,  and  that,  as  'in  him 
dwelleth  all  the  fulness  of  the  Godhead  bodily' 
(Col  '2->),  so  is  the  Church  His  body,  a  body  not 
only  quickened  by  His  life,  but  indwelt  by  His 
mmd:  'We  have  the  mind  of  Christ'  (I  Co  2^^). 
In  the  context  immediately  jireceding  tliis  quota- 
tion, St.  Paul  claims  for  tliose  \\lio  have  this  mind 
the  posse.ssiou  of  a  special  critical  .sense,  a  faculty 
of  discernment  in  spiritual  uiatters;  and  other 
passages  exhibit  the  practical  operation  of  this 
critical  sense,  as  it  may  be  termed,  e.g.  1  Co  14^ 
'Let  the  prophets  speak  by  two  or  three,  and  let 
the  others  discern,'  and  v.^'  'If  any  man  thinketh 
himself  to  be  a  prophet,  or  spiritual,  let  liim  take 
knowledge  of  the  things  which  I  write  unto  you, 
that  they  are  the  commandments  of  the  Lord.' 
This  special  sense  was  formed  liy  those  who  had 
been  'from  the  beginning  eye-«  itiiesses  and  mini- 
sters of  the  word?  Their' rep.. n^  nt  what  their 
Ma.ster  had  done  and  said,  the  luudii  i..us  in  which 
He  worked,  the  tone  and  teiuper  ut  His  utterances, 
formed  a  standard  by  which  it  was  jiossible  to  de- 
cide the  claims  to  genuineness  of  stories  told  about 
Him.  There  is  really  nothing  fanciful  in  this  :  it 
only  supposes  the  Apostolic  Church,  or  at  least  the 
leading  members  of  it,  to  have  had  the  same  sort 
of  sense  of  discernment  which  is  imdoubtedly  pos- 
sessed by  good  critics  in  other  departments  of 
literature.  The  very  best  attem])ts  to  imitate  tha 
style  of  a  great  poet  or  prose  writer  ring  false  in 
the  ear  of  one  who  knows. 

But  not  only  did  the  Church,  thinkin^^  through 
the  accrediteil  teachers  '  who  had  the  spirit,'  or  if 


it  be  preferred,  the  sanctified  'common  sense  of 
most,'  determine  wliicli  were  tlie  Gospels  inspired 
by  God  ;  but  also  their  form — at  least  so  far  as 
the  Synoptics  are  concerned  —  was  in  all  proba- 
bility determined  by  the  use  made  of  them  in  the 
weekly  Church  assemblies.  This  use  must  have 
obtained  from  the  very  earliest  times  at  which 
meetings  were  held  for  distinctively  CInistian 
worship.  We  cannot  otherwise  account  for  the 
familiarity  on  the  part  of  his  readers  with  the 
general  tenor  of  the  Evangelic  story  wliich  is 
assumed  by  St.  Paul  in  his  Epistles. 

In  Justin  iMart.vr's  time  (Apot.  i.  6")  the  established  custom 
was  that  two  lessons  were  read,  one  from  the  Prophets,  another 
from  the  Gospels.  We  cannot  press  Justin's  language  too 
closely,  BO  as  to  exclude  from  public  l-eadin^  the  non-Pro- 
phetical parts  of  the  OT,  or  the  Apostolic  Epistles.  We  must 
remember  that  his  intention  was  to  give  heathens  a  general 
idea  as  to  the  nature  of  the  Christian  worship ;  he  was_  not 
composing  rubrical  directions  for  the  rler;;y.     It  is  more  likely 

of  any  other  portion  of  the  '  >!' :  i'll  m  m  ■  i-  ,  i'  i-i.-Uiem 
that  Justin  most  constantly  i       ■  i       l  .■         That 

the  Apostolic  Kpistles  were  .li-     i       I  '     ■        ,,    ,v„.tn- 

blies  we  know  from  other  wn,  II.  ■-.  ,  i .^  ii'     iii.  K  ili;ita 

Lord's  Day  ever  passed  without  a  r-'iialiju  ii  --jny^  i.'jiLi'jn  of 
the  narratives  of  the  works  and  words  of  Jesus. 

When  we  examine  the  canonical  Gospels  with 
this  consideration  in  our  mind,  we  are  struck  by 
the  fact  that  it  is  easy  to  imagine  that  the  first 
three  were  compiled  from  sections  read  with  a 
view  to  practical  instruction,  and  that  it  is  not  so 
easy  to  tliink  of  the  Fourth  Gospel  as  having  had 
this  origin.  Tlie  stories  and  discourses  in  the 
Synoptics  have  the  ett'ect  of  pictures  reproduced  in 
the  words  of  the  original  witness,  while  the  im- 

{)ression  was  still  fiesh  in  his  memory,  and  before 
le  had  time  to  place  them  in  any  systematized 
doctrinal  setting.  St.  John's  Gospel,  on  the  other 
hand,  has  the  aii-  of  being  an  attempt  to  write  a 
history,  a  spiritual  history  if  you  will,  still  a  his- 
tory, an  orderly  statement  of  words  and  deeds 
meditated  on  in  the  study,  and  recorded  as  they 
emerged  from  the  writer's  inner  consciousness 
after  the  lapse  of  many  years.  To  say  this  is  not 
to  undervalue  the  historical  truth,  nuich  less  the 
inspiration,  of  the  Fourth  Gospel.  The  difference 
between  it  and  the  Synoptics  is  similar  to  that 
between  a  diarist  and  a  historian  :  a  diary  chron- 
icles facts,  a  history  interprets  them. 

It  is  possible  that  St.  John's  Gospel  was  known  as  a  history 
for  private  reading  only,  for  some  considerable  time  before  it 
was  read  in  the  congregation.  This  supposition  would  partly 
•  of  Justin's  quotations  of  Christ's  words  are 
3  sutficient  proof  of  his  .a(;quaint- 
ance  with  it.  Even  in  our  own  day  it  is  doubtful  whether  any 
judicious  apologist  for  Christianity,  in  '-itiri^^  examples  of  our 
Lord's  discourses  to  a  non-Chn^t .  ,'.  i  i!.:i  •  .:.!  malvi- niiK-hu.se 
of  the  Fourth  Gospel,  thougti  h'  ■  (  .■  ^f  iii..-.liniable 

value  in  his  own  devotional  r    -  M  ,11  I. d  instinct- 

ively that  its  wisdom  is  for  th.:  I    ^       I     ills  ■  tlie  per- 

fect,' or  'full  grown,'  not  fnr  '  Im-  ^  m  '  In  i.t ,  inu.li  less  for 
'  them  that  are  without.'  Moreover,  apart  in. in  tliis  difference 
in  quality  between  St.  John's  Gospel  and  the  .Synoptics,  the 
difference  in  Uterary  style  must  have,  even  from  the  first, 
delayed  its  adoption  in  general  public  use.  Tliose  who  think, 
thev  read  or  list«n,  soon  become  aware  tlml  its  sini)>licitv 
■■    •  •  -'•--• '  i:  -  -  .1  ■  iMlety 

10.  A  word  is  necessary  as  to ///    ,  ,    i/im:n 

the  canonical  Gospels  and  the  J'ni<j^ii:  lU  .  :.j' mr/i/ 
Gospel  iiuiterial  which  have  already  iciiuid  tlie 
patient  toil  of  scholarly  excavation  in  Egypt.  In 
1892  a  fragment  of  the  lost  Gospel  of  Phrr,  dis- 
covered at  Akhmim  in  1886-7,  was  jiublislied  by 
U.  Bouriant ;  and  in  1897,  Messrs.  Greiifell  and 
Hunt  published  a  papyrus  containing  eight  Sayings 
of  Jesus  in  a  more  or  less  fragmentary  condition  ; 
and  another  fragment  of  five  Sayings  has  since 
appeared.  We  are  not  at  all  concerned  here 
with  the  so-called  Gospel  of  Peter.  It  is  con- 
fessedly the  production  of  a  sect  of  Docetsc  imt 
earlier  than  the  latter  htdf  of  the  •2m\  century.     It 


is  undoulitedly  interesting  and  valuable,  as  illus- 
trating the  beliefs  of  Gnostics ;  but  it  has  no 
claim  whatever  to  be  an  original  source  of  in- 
formation. It  is  instructive  as  a  harmonistio  nar- 
rative based  chiefly  on  the  canonical  Gospels. 

To  (the  student  of  the  Gospels,  the  recovery  of 
the  lost  Gospel  of  Peter,  or  of  a  portion  of  it,  has 
the  same  kind,  but  not  the  sjiiiie  degree,  of  interest 
as  the  recovery  of  a  ln.st  wuik  by  •lustin  Martyr 
would  have:  it  serves  .ts  :iii  illii-t  latiun  of  the  way 
in  which  the  canonii-il  ( ;.i-|,il-,  v.cre  employed  in 
the  2nd  century.-  lint  tin-  i  a-r  is  ilitierent  with 
the  newly  discovereil  Snying.i  of  Jcsits.  These 
seem  to  claim  to  be  Gospel  material.  The  question 
is.  Are  they  bo7ui  file  Gospel  material  which  has 
been  practically  rejected  by  the  responsible  thinkers 
of  the  Church,  or  are  tliey  only  pseudo-Gospel 
material  ? 

We  have  seen  that  a  complete  'Gospel'  must 
have  contained  a  narrative  of  those  facts  of  our 
Lord's  life  which  have  a  redemptive  significance  ; 
but  besides  Gospels,  it  is  very  probable,  indeed 
almost  certain,  that  there  were  current  in  Apostolic 
times  sayings  of  our  Lord,  without  any  note  of  the 
occasion  when  they  were  spoken.  We  have  one 
.such  saying  in  Ac  2(P,  and  in  the  extant  Gospels 
there  are  many  passages  which  it  is  difficult  to 
believe  are  not  based  on  collections  of  Sayings. 
An  almost  certain  case  is  Lk  16""'*,  where  we  have 
a  group  of  four  Sayings,  none  of  which  has  any 
connexion  with  the  otliers,  or  with  the  parable 
that  follows. 

This  example  proves  that  the  disconnected  nature 
of  the  Sayings  in  the  recently  discovered  papyri 
ailbrds  no  presumption  against  their  being  genume 
Ciospel  material.  Moreover,  the  record  by  St.  Luke 
of  St.  Paul's  quotation  (Ac  2CF')  of  a  saying  of 
Jesus  which  is  not  found  in  any  canonical  Gospel, 
proves  that  while  St.  Ltike  was  no  doubt  desirous 
to  make  his  Gosjiel  as  full  as  possible,  he  was  yet 
aware  that  there  were  accessible  to  him  sayings 
besides  those  of  which  he  made  use.  So  that  we 
cannot  reject  the  papjrri  Sayings  on  the  ground 
that  the  canonical  Gospels  must  necessarily  con- 
tain all  the  sayings  of  Jesus  that  were  known  in 
Apostolic  times. 

On  the  other  hand,  on  the  principles  we  have 
adopted,  we  must  decide  that  St.  Luke,  in  his  selec- 
tion of  sayings  and  discourses,  was  guided  by  the 
Spirit  of  Jesus ;  and  it  may  be  remarked  that  the 
fact  that  he  did  select  is  a  presumptive  proof  that 
he  wrote  at  a  time  sufficiently  early  for  it  to  Ije 
possible  for  a  Christian  to  consider  any  authenti- 
cated saying  of  Jesus  to  be  not  worth  preservmg. 
Contrast  the  eager  anxiety  of  Papias  to  gather  up 
every  crumb  from  the  recollections  of  early  dis- 
ciples. At  best,  the  papyri  Sayings  belong  to  the 
same  class  as  the  interpolations  in  Codex  D,  that 
is  to  say,  they  are  rejected  Gospel  material,  rejected 
because  the  mind  of  the  Church  in  the  1st  cent, 
thought  it  to  be  unsuitable  for  preservation.  The 
present  conclusion  to  St.  Mark's  Gospel,  on  the 
other  hand,  and  the  Pcricopc  adultera;,  are  in- 
stances of  floating  Gospel  material  which  have 
been  stamped  with  the  approval  of  the  mind  of  the 
Church. 

It  may  happen,  however,  that  further  discoveries 
and  mature  consideration  will  suggest  that  these 
papyri  Sayings  have  only  a  relative  value  and 
significance,  as  being  fragments  of  the  very  exten- 
sive religious  literature  of  the  2nd  century.  If 
more  of  this  literature  had  survived  to  our  own 
day,  we  should  be  able  to  view  them  in  a  juster 
jiroportion.  AVe  know  that,  even  in  the  lifetime  of 
the  Apostles,  Christianity  had  developed  so  rapidly 
tliat  there  was  an  exuberant  growth  of  '  divers  and 
strange  teachings'  (He  13").  Each  of  these  sects, 
or  schools  of  thouglit  and  siieculatioii,  must  have 


GOSPELS 


GOSPELS 


669 


)iad  both  its  tuitliorizeil  expositions  and  its  literary 
projjagaiida.  We  are  -Apt  to  forget  that  the  busi- 
ness of  book  production  in  the  first  centuries  of 
tlie  Christian  era  was  enormous  in  volume. 

We  know  fronr  the  lists  given  by  Eusebius,  and 
allusions  in  other  autliors,  that  our  extant  ante- 
Nicene  Fathers  represent  a  very  small  fraction  of 
the  literature  of  the  Church  before  his  time.  We 
may  judge  from  this  fact  how  unlikely  it  would  be 
that  much  of  the  writings  of  heretics  would  sur- 
vive. Such  literature  did  not  belong  to  a  body 
with  a  continuous  organized  life,  as  is  the  Chris- 
tian Churcli,  a  life  continuous  in  doctrine  as  well 
as  by  personal  links.  The  doctrine  of  the  Chris- 
tian Church,  being  a  living  tiling,  grows  and 
develops  from  one  generation  to  another  ;  but  tlie 
new  always  has  to  reconcile  itself  with  the  old  ; 
they  are  connected.  And  .so  even  uninspired 
Clrristian  writings  would  continue  to  be  preserved 
and  respected  long  after  they  had  ceased  to  be 
Ijenerally  read.  Whereas  lieresy,  as  it  was  called, 
IS  essentially  transitory  ;  its  literature,  even  when 
not  merely  the  expression  of  the  thoughts  of  an 
individual,  reflects  the  conception  of  only  one 
generation.  Tliose  who  inherit  it  have  no  reason 
tor  retaining  interest  in  it  after  it  has  ceased  to 
represent  jirecisely  tlieir  thoughts.  On  the  whole, 
it  seems  to  the  jiresent  writer  that  these  papyri 
Sayings  of  Jesus  must  be  regarded  as  not  an  ex- 
pression of  the  main  line  of  Church  thouglit  of  any 
century.  They  are,  of  course,  profoundly  interest- 
ing, as  casting  light  on  tlie  religious  conceptions  of 
some,  we  cannot  tell  liow  many,  in  the  2nd  cent., 
but  they  do  not  exhibit  tlie  general  mind  of  the 
Church. 

11.  In  any  discussion  as  to  the  language  in  which 
the  Jirst  Gospel  narrative  was  composed,  it  is  im- 
possible to  leave  out  of  account  the  evidence  pre- 
served in  the  fragments  of  Papias  that  are  cited  in 
Eusebius,  HE  iii.  39. 

It  is  not  intended  here  to  give  a  resuni6  of  the 
controversy  that  has  raged  over  these  few  lines ; 
but  merely  to  state  what  seems  to  the  present 
ivriter  their  most  probable  sense  and  value.  Tlie 
title  of  Papias'  booli  was  Ao7iui'  KvpLaKuiv  'EJ1J777- 
<ris.  Besides  Eusebius,  Irenaeus  seems  to  be  the 
only  writer,  of  those  whose  works  have  come 
down  to  us,  who  exhibits  a  first-hand  acquaint- 
ance with  tlie  book  of  Papias.  The  other  writers 
who  allude  to  him  evidently  knew  no  more  aljout 
him  than  what  they  found  in  Eusebius  or  Iren;cus. 
The  nature  of  the  work  may  be  guessed  from  what 
Papias  himself  states  in  one  of  the  fragments  :  '  I 
shall  not  hesitate  also  to  put  down  for  you,  along 
with  my  interpretations,  whatsoever  things  I  have 
at  any  time  learned  carefully  from  the  elders.' 
The  book,  then,  had  a  twofold  character :  inter- 
pretations, and  also  oral  traditions.  It  is  these 
latter  to  which  Eusebius  refers  when  he  says  tliat 
tlie  book  contained  '  certain  strange  parables  and 
teachings  of  the  Saviour,  and  some  other  more 
mythical  things ' ;  and  from  tlie  fact  that  Eusebius 
quotes  from  Papias  two  statements  fdiicprniiig  the 
Gospels  of  Matthew  and  Mark  ics|H-iti\i-ly,  it  is 
at  least  probable  that  the  »»^  qir.i,,in,iis  dealt 
with  our  Gospels.  Eusebius  i\i\K-r,  ik.i  concciil  his 
contempt  for  Papias'  literary  capacity:  lie  appears 
to  have  been  of  very  limited  understanding  (atpkhpo. 
(TfUKpbs  rbv  vovv),  as  one  can  see  from  his  discourses.' 
This  adverse  verdict  is  certainly  l>orne  out  by  the 
puerile  extracts  preserved  by  Ireniinis  ;  and  it  does 
not  seem  reasonable  to  attribute  Eusebius'  hostile 
criticism  to  his  want  of  sympathy  with  Papi.as' 
millenarian  opinions.  Eusebius  speaks  in  un- 
qualified praise  of  Irena-us,  who  shared  those 
opinions. 

We  may  now  discuss  the  term  \6yia  KvpiaKd,  as 
it  occurs  in  the  title  of  Papias'  book.     Tlie  word 


X67ia  may  certainly  be  rendered  '  oracular  utter- 
ances,' as  Professor  Stanton  points  out  {The  Gos- 
pels as  Historical  Documents,  p.  53) ;  but  \6yia 
KvpiaKd  is  not  naturally  rendered  '  oracular  utter- 
ances of  the  Lord,'  in  the  sense  uttered  by  the 
Lord, — which  would  be  \6yia  Kvplov, — but  oracular 
utterances  relating  to  the  Lord,  just  as  KvpinKdv 
aeiTTi'oi'  does  not  mean  the  supper  eaten  by,  or  given 
by,  the  Lord,  but  the  supper  ordained  as  an  in- 
stitution by  Him.  KvpiaKds  has  the  same  force  in 
the  phrase  ij  KvpiaKij  ij^^pa. 

As  regards  \67ta,  it  would,  of  course,  be  absurd  to 
question  the  possibility  that  Papias  was  familiar 
with  the  word  in  the  sense  '  oracular  utterances ' ; 
but  it  is  more  likely  that  his  use  of  \671a  was  inten- 
tionally analogous  to  that  found  in  the  NT  (Ac  7**, 
Ko  3^,  He  5'=,  1  P  4"),  where  the  term,  variously 
qualified,  is  used  of  the  Scriptures  of  the  1  OT. 
X(57io  KiipiaKd,  then,  would  mean  Holy  Scriptures 
connected  with  the  Lord,  i.e.  the  Gospels.  This 
g  harmonizes  with  what  we  have  other- 
ferred  as  to  the  nature  of  the  book  written 
by  Papias.  It  dealt  primarily  with  interpreta- 
tions of  the  Gospels,  and  secondarily  with  oral 
traditions,  of  which  he  was  evidently  a  very  un- 
critical collector. 

Papias  distinctly  tells  us,  as  Eusebius  points 
out,  that  among  his  informants  \vere  persons  old 
enough  to  have  had  personal  intercourse  with  the 
Apostles.  He  distinguishes  two  classes  of  authori- 
ties :  ( 1 )  Persons  who  could  tell  him  what  Andrew, 
Peter,  etc.,  said  {(tirev),  'and  (2)  what  Aristion  and 
the  presbyter  John,  the  disciples  of  the  Lord,  sa;/ ' 
(X^yomii').  Eusebius,  who  had  read  the  book, 
states  that  the  language  of  Papias  implies  that  he 
was  himself  a  hearer  of  Aristion  and  the  presbyter 
John.  We  are  certainly  entitled  to  infer  that  they 
were  his  elder  contemporaries ;  vei-y  much  elder, 
if  they  really  were  '  disciples  of  the  Lord '  in  the 
strict  sense  of  the  plrrase.  See,  further,  art. 
Arlstion. 

'  The  order  of  the  list  *  of  elders  given  by  Papias  is,  as  Pro- 
fessor Stanton  remarks  {op.  cit.  p.  168),  *  a  somewhat  strange 
one.'  He  gives  the  true  explanation  as  to  why  John  and 
Matthew  are  mentioned  last,  i.e.  '  For  the  very  reason  that  they 
had  embodied  their  testimony  in  writing,  they  were  less  im- 
portant than  the  rest  for  the  particular  purpose  of  which  he  is 
speaking  here — the  illustration  of  the  written  "oracles"  by 
matter  orally  handed  down.'  It  may  be  added  that  the 
omission  in  this  list  of  Mark  and  Luke  w.is  most  probably  due 
to  the  consideration  that  these  E\  an^^-Iists  could  not  be  sup- 
posed to  be  .able,  from  personal  knowledge,  to  add  anything  to 
what  they  had  embodied  in  their  Gospels.  One  cannot  help 
noting  that  the  other  names,  '  Andrew,  Peter,  Philip,  Thomas, 
James,'  are  those  of  the  Apostles  who  are  introduced  in  the 
Gospels  as  making  observations,  and  that  the  first  three  names 
occur  in  that  order  in  the  first  chapter  of  St.  John's  Gospel. 
vye  do  not  know  which  James  Papias  meant.  Moreover,  while 
Eusebius  expressly  states  that  Papias  *  mentions  Aristion  and 
the  presbyter  John  frequently  by  name,  and  gives  their  tradi- 
tions in  his  writings,*  he  does'  not  quote  from  Papias  any 
tradition  whatever  based  on  the  authority  of  an  Apostle.  We 
are  forced  to  the  conclusion  that  in  point  of  fact  Papias  had 

noil'   i.>  t. .1  ,  ;mmI  lliatwhen  'he  questioned  those  who  had 

be'ii  I  'lilers  in  regard  to  their  words,' he  learnt 

noUiii,  .  I  Ml  111  interest.  It  is  impossible  to  imagine 
tlKil  11  I  I,    :      uiid  in  the  book  of  Papias  any  statement 

wbah  w  I  ii-,  iiiiiii  [III  Apiistle,  he  would  not  have  preserved  it  in 
his  Ilixlfiri/. 

Of  the  two  celebrated  remarks  cited  from  Papias 
about  the  Gospels  of  Mark  and  Matthew  respec- 
tively, the  first  is  given  expressly  as  the  statement 
of  the  presbyter  John,  and  it  is  natural  to  suppose 
that  the  second  came  from  the  same  source. 
Papias  was  credulous  and  unintelligent;  but  he 
does  not  seem  to  have  made  any  statement  on  Iiis 
oM-n  authority ;  so  that  it  would  be  unreasonable 
to  discount  the  statements  of  the  presbyter  John 
because  of  the  stupidity  of  the  iieisoii  «ho  re- 
corded them.  On  the  other  li;iiiil.  i(  is  inncison- 
able  to  assume  that  the  nearness  ui  I  he  |iii--liyiev 
John  to  the  times  of  the  .Vi.i'-i  I'-  i  .i  ■juiir.iiili-e 
that  his  assertions  as  to   the  eiiin|iiisition  i.t   ihe 


670 


GOSPELS 


GOSPELS 


Gosjiels  are  altogetlier  to  be  depended  on.  Me 
need  liave  no  hesitation  in  rejecting  any,  or  all,  of 
them,  if  more  convincing  arguments  oblige  us  to 
do  so  ;  but  tlie  demonstrated  falsity  of  one  state- 
ment would  not  of  necessit}'  throw  discredit  on  tlie 
otliers. 

Thus,  that  Mark  was  '  the  interpreter  of  Peter  ' 
is  so  probable  a  tradition  that  it  has  met  with 
general  acceptance  ;  it  is,  moreover,  an  assertion  as 
to  which  it  is  quite  impossible  now  to  produce  any 
rebutting  evidence.  But  the  assertion  that  Mark 
did  not  compose  his  narrative  '  in  order  '  is,  at  the 
iireseiit  da.y,  as  generally  rejected  by  those  who 
li;iM'  I  Miefully  studied  the  Synoptic  Problem.  Dr. 
SaliiMiii,  ill  particular,  has  pointed  out  that  if  we 
ilo^iic  ti)  follow  tlie  growth  of  our  Lord's  reputa- 
tion as  a  teacher  and  healer,  and  the  corresponding 
development  of  hostility  against  Him,  we  must 
consult  the  Gospel  according  to  St.  Mark  in  pre- 
ference to  the  others. 

Passing  on  to  the  statement  of  the  presbyter 
John  about  St.  Matthew,  and  judging  it  in' the 
liglit  of  all  the  evidence  at  present  available,  we 
seem  to  find  the  same  mi.xture  in  it  of  truth  and 
error.  The  testimony  of  St.  Jerome  does  not  leave 
us  room  to  question  that  there  was  an  orthodox 
Hebrew  Gospel  which,  as  extant  in  his  time,  con- 
tained matters  not  found  in  any  of  tlie  four  canoni- 
cal Gospels.  Tliis  work  had  such  a  very  limited 
circulation  that  it  is  impossible  for  us  now  to 
affirm  with  any  confidence  as  to  wlietlier  its  pecu- 
liar features  were  in  the  original,  or  weie  later 
interpolations  ;  but  we  have  no  rebutting  evidence 
that  m  its  original  form  it  was  not  the  work  of  St. 
Matthew.  On  the  other  hand,  nothing  is  more 
certain  than  tliat  the  Greek  First  Gospel,  which 
lias  always  been  known  in  the  Churcli  as  the 
Gospel  according  to  St.  Matthew,  is  not  in  its 
present  form,  whioli  there  is  no  reason  to  tliink 
was  ever  difteient  -a  traii^laticm  Iron]  one  Hebrew 
original.  How  ilim  ,ii..  \\c  i,.  explain  ■  Everyone 
interpreted  tlivn I,  •.'.  \\:\\ihi-\\'^  Ili-lpvew  x"67ia, 
'as  he  was  able  ' '.  1  'i.  Salmons  solution  seems  to 
give  the  most  likely  explanation  of  this  ambiguous 
pluase.  .John  the  presbyter  meant  that  the  Greek 
St.  Matthew  was  a  translation  of  the  Hebrew  St. 
Mattlipw.  aTi.l  not  l,y  the  author  himself.  The 
a-MTtion  i^  ,ii  tin'  -anie  kind  as  that  about  St. 
Maik.  tli.tt  111'  A\.\  not  write  'in  order';  and  both 
>iatoniont-  \m-io  siiLi.^ested  by  an  extreme  theory 
of  biblical  insj)iration,  a  tlieoiy  which  was  very 
generally  held  until  quite  recent  times — the  abso- 
lute inerrancy  of  Holy  Scripture  in  every  detail. 

One  lias  sometimes  heard  discrepancies  between 
ditterent  liistorical  statements  in  the  OT  explained 
by  the  assertion  that  the  errors  which  cause  the 
discrepancies  were  not  in  the  original,  as  it  left  the 
liand  of  the  Divinely  inspired  writer,  but  were  due 
to  the  slips  of  uninspired  copyists  ;  and  thus  it  is 
thought  possible  to  reconcile  belief  in  the  inerrancy 
of  the  W  ord  of  God  with  the  actual  state  of  the 
case.  Tlie  statements  of  the  presbyter  John  about 
the  Gospels  of  Mark  and  Matthew  are  best  ex- 
plained by  supposing  that  he  held  .some  such  theory 
of  inspiration. 

■When  he  finds   M    •      .1  -    ,    r 


Gospels 
Mark's 


Oospel,  as  he  read  it,  there  seemed  any  inaccunu;y,  this  must 
he  imputed  to  the  translators  ;  the  Gospel  as  Matthew  himself 
wrote  it  was  free  from  fault '  (Salmon,  Introd.  to  XT,  p.  93). 

The  conclusion,  then,  to  which  we  are  <lriven  is 
that  if  the  existence  of  an  original  Hebrew  (iospel 
depended  im  the  testiiiioiiy  of  the  presbyter  John, 
we  could  not  safely  iii.akc  any  j)Ositive  affirma- 
tion  on   the  subject.     The  only  other  witness  to 


Matthews  Hebrew  Gospel  who  seems  to  be  in- 
dependent, i.e.  Irenseus,  may  not  really  be  so.  It 
has  been  generally  believed  that  he  adds  to  what 
Eusebius  quotes  from  Papias  a  note  of  time,  '  while 
Peter  and  Paul  were  preaching  and  founding  the 
Church  at  Rome' ;  but  the  Rev.  J.  Chapman  has 
proved  {JThSt  vi.  563)  that  this  clause  is  neither 
derived  from  Papias  nor  is  it  a  note  of  time. 

12.  However,  whether  St.  Matthew  wrote  a 
Gospel  in  Hebrew  or  not,  there  can  be  no  doubt, 
Ixith  from  a  priori  considerations  and  also  from 
the  internal  evidence  of  tlie  extant  Greek  Gospels, 
that  there  was  current  in  the  infancy  of  the  Church 
a  Gospel  in  the  Hebrew  language  as  then  com- 
monly spoken  in  Judjea.  The  last  command  of 
our  Lord,  as  recorded  by  St.  Luke  (24^'),  that  tlie 
gospel  should  be  preached,  '  beginning  at  Jeru- 
salem,' is  in  itself  a  sufficient  proof  that  one  of  the 
first  Gospels,  in  the  sense  in  which  we  have  used 
that  word,  must  have  been  in  the  Aramaic  tongue. 
Even  if  our  Lord  sometimes,  and  in  some  places, 
taught  in  Greek,  yet  Aramaic  was  His  mother 
tongue,  and  that  of  His  Apostles,  and  of  the  vast 
majority  of  His  hearers.  In  the  early  Jerusalem 
Church  it  is  plain  that  the  Hebrews  outnumbered 
the  Hellenists  (Ac  6^).  These  considerations  make 
it  certain  that  one  of  tlie  forms  which  the  Evan- 
gelic narrative  assumed  from  the  very  first  was  in 
Aramaic.  The  facts  that  such  a  Gospel  is  not  now 
extant,  and  that  the  external  evidence  for  its  ex- 
istence at  any  time  is  so  scanty,  are  fully  aecoimted 
for  by  the  destruction  of  Jenisaleni  in  the  year 
A.D.  70.  That  world-shaking  event,  among  its 
other  immediate  consequences,  was  followed  by 
the  disappearance  of  the  Hebrew-speaking  Church 
of  Jerusalem.  Then,  after  not  many  years,  the 
Hebrew-speaking  Christian  community  in  Palestine 
lost  touch  with  the  main  current  of  Christian 
thought,  and,  in  consequence,  sank  to  the  position 
of  an  obsciue  sect  with  an  out-of-date  theology. 

It  has  been  stated  above  that  the  inteiTial  evi- 
dence of  the  extant  Greek  Gospels  suggests  an 
Aramaic  original.  It  must  be  confessed  that  the 
presence  in  a  Greek  document  of  Aramaic  turns  of 

fihrase  does  not  necessarily  prove  that  it  is  a  trans- 
ation  from  the  Aramaic.  Dean  Armitage  Robinson 
has  given  good  reasons  for  his  theory  that  the 
Aramaisms  in  the  first  two  chapters  of  St.  Luke's 
Gospel  are  due  to  a  deliberate  imitation  of  the 
LXX  of  1  Samuel.  But  there  does  not  seem  any 
likelihood  that  the  author,  or  authors,  of  the 
common  Synoptic  narrative  were,  like  St.  Luke, 
conscious  literary  artists  ;  and  even  if  we  cannot 
follow  AVeiss  in  eveiy  application  of  his  condu- 
it e 


ions,  there  remains  proof  enough  to  render  the 
theoi-j-  of  an  original  Aramaic  Gospel,  as  under- 
lying" the  Sj-noptics,  probable  to  a  high  degree. 
This  supposition  is  even  more  plausible  in  the  case 
of  the  portions  of  St.  Matthew's  Gospel  which  are 
peculiar  to  that  i;\  an-i  li>i.  Bishop  Westcott  long 
ago  pointeil  out.  witli  iiL:ard  to  the  quotations 
from  the  OT  fouml  in  the  Synoptic  Gospels,  that, 
while  the  cyclic  quotations,  as  he  calls  them,  agree 
with  the  LXX,  those  that  are  peculiar  to  St. 
Matthew  seem  to  be  independent  translations  from 
tlip  Hebrew. 

13.  This  is  not  a  discussion  of  the  Synoptic 
I  olilem  ;  but  it  may  not  be  out  of  jilace  to  con- 
.  iuilc  this  article  'ivith  a  suggestion  as  to  the  rela- 
I  ions  of  the  three  Synoptic  Gospels  to  each  other. 
It  is  generally  held  now  that  the  First  and  Third 
Gospels  are  altogether  indepemlent  of  each  other, 
but  that  Mt.  and  Lk.  derived  tlie  matter  which 
they  have  in  common  with  Mk.  either  from  St. 
Mark's  Gosjiel,  or  from  an  earlier  source  from 
which  St.  Mark  selected  the  incidents  and  dis- 
courses  which  he  rebates.  Un  the  hypothesis  that 
Mt.  .and   Lk.  cojjied   our   St.  Mark,  we   have  to 


GOSPELS  (APOCRYPHAL) 


GOSPELS  (APOCRYPHAL)   671 


assume  t-lii;  oxisteni-e  of  another  early  Gospel,  from 
which  they  derived  the  noii-Markan  matter  which 
they  have"  in  common.  In  this  case  we  conclude 
that  the  details  peculiar  to  St.  Mark  were  an 
original  feature  of  that  Gospel,  and  that  Mt.  and 
Lk.  for  various  rea-sons  omitted  them.  On  the 
other  hand,  if  the  common  Synoptic  matter  and  the 
matter  common  to  Mt.  and  Lk.  l)e  both  assigned 
to  one  original,  it  will  then  be  natural  to  think  of 
St.  Mark's  peculiar  details  as  additions  made  by 
him,  probably  on  the  authority  of  St.  Peter. 

The  problem  has  been  rendered  unnecessarily 
'  complicated  by  an  assumption  that  it  is  impossible 
that  an  Evangelist  should  have  omitted  anything 
from  his  work  which  he  had  reason  to  believe  was 
true.  The  fallacy  of  this  assumption  will  be 
evident,  whichever  hypothesis  we  adopt.  The 
simplest  method  to  account  for  all  the  facts  is  to 
suppose  a  Greek  translation  of  an  Aramaic  original 
as  the  source  of  all  the  common  Synoptic  matter, 
and  also  of  the  matter  common  to  Mt.  and  Lk. 
In  this  document  the  OT  quotations  would  have 
been  given  in  a  LXX  form.  At  least  two  other 
sources  must  be  postulated  for  the  matter  found 
only  in  Mt.  and  Lk.  respectively.  We  have 
already  found  reason  to  hold  that  the  matter 
peculiar  to  Mt.  was  a  translation  from  an  Aramaic 
original. 

Whatever  solution  of  the  Synoptic  problem  be 
ultimately  adopted  by  the  general  consensus  of 
critics,  it  does  not  seem  likely  that  the  compli- 
cated hypotheses  of  the  German  school  of  a  genera- 
tion ago  will  again  commend  themselves  to  scholars 
of  sober  judgment.  It  is  a  sound  canon  of  criticism 
that  sources  are  not  to  be  multiplied  beyond  the 
necessity  of  the  case. 

Literature.— The  art.  'Gospels'  in  Hastings'  DB  and  in 
Encyc.  Bibl. ,  where  a  full  Bibliogrraphy  will  be  found.  Of  the 
more  recent  literature  the  following  select  list  may  be  offered  ; 
Westcott,  Intmd.  In  Study  of  Gospel^,  1895  ;  A.  VVright,  Com- 
pos, of  Four  Gospels,  1890,  with  the  same  author's  Preface  to 
Si/nopsis,  1896,  and  Some  NT  Problems,  189S ;  Sir  .1.  Hawkins, 
Uorie  Synopticce,  1899 ;  Salmon,  Introd.  to  NT,  1885  ;  Rush- 
brooke,  Synoptiam,  1880  ;  Abbott-Rushbrooke,  Common  Tradi- 
tion of  the  Synoptic  Gospels,  ISSl  ;  Badliani,  T/ir  Formation  nf 
the  Gospels^,  1892;  H.  Holl /,:n  i  im,  /'-'.  ,^- ,:-,''  rr,,,,,/,-!;.',;, 
1883,  Einleit.  in  d.  NT'',  mr:  .  \:  w  .  i  ;  :  •  chri  t,' v.k.  i. 
'  The  Sources,' 1882,  3/an?/(//  i      /    '  ^.'   i    ->  ,<■    \\',  1/,- 

siicker,  Untersuch.  lili.  die  rr.,    ■  '   <,  \v  ,„{,  ^  /„/,,■, 

Jestl,  1886  ;  P.  Ewald,  Haupli ',■■'■  ./i  ./.  /;'..,  ..  i.r,,f,:i',.  ,  iv.ni; 
Sanday,  '  Survey  of  the  Synoptic  t,tuestion  '  in  Kxpn^.  1891.  A 
posthumous  work  on  the  Synoptic  Problem  by  iJr.  Salmon,  en- 
titled Eclipse  Observations  of  the  Human  Ele}nent  in  the  Gospels, 
will,  it  is  hoped,  be  published  this  year  (1906). 

N.  J.  D.  White. 

GOSPELS  (APOCRYPHAL).-i.  Title. -In  the 
sense  in  which  the  term  is  popularly  understood, 
'  apocryphal '  is  synonymous  with  '  spurious  '  or 
'  false '  ;  when,  however,  it  is  applied  as  a  title  to 
writings  of  the  early  Christian  centuries,  it  bears 
the  significance  of  'extra-canonical.'  By  Apocry- 
phal Gospels  are,  accordingly,  meant  all  writings 
claiming  to  be  Gospels  which  are  not  included  in 
the  Canon  of  the  NT,  without  any  implication 
that  their  contents  are  necessarily  false  or  of  ques- 
tionable origin.  (See,  further,  for  the  meaning  of 
the  term,  art.  'Apocrypha'  in  Hastings'  DB  i. 
112 ff.;  also  Hennecke,  NT  Apokr.  3*  ft',  Hatulb. 
viift'.;  and  Zahn,  Gcsch.  d.  NT  Knn.  i.  127  ft".). 

ii.  Origin.— For  a  generation  after  the  death  of 
Jesus,  His  teaching  and  the  facts  about  His  life 
were  preserved  by  oral  tradition  in  the  circle  of 
believers.  With  the  rise  of  a  second  generation, 
however,  the  need  was  felt  for  reducing  tlie  oral 
reminiscences  to  ^vTitten  form.  The  reason  for 
this  was  twofold.  For  one  tiling,  the  number  of 
those  who  could  give  personal  testimony  of  what 
"  '  and  said  was  rapidly  liopoinin<j  smaller  : 


Je 

and  for 
far  bey. 
tine.  '  1 
trust«-( 


tlif, 


1-  s),; 


Jesus  were  to  be  preserved  for  the  guidance  of  the 
.scattered  communities  of  Chri^tiiin.^,  llir  tradition 
should  be  committed  ta  sdnn'ihiim  ni.n.-  pmnanent 
and  less  liable  to  disturljiu-  inllu.nci-  ihau  oral 
remini-scence.  The  impulsi/nf  this  iiL-(r>sity  gave 
rise  to  our  written  Gospels,  ami  to  many  other 
Evangelic  records  which  liave  disappeared.  Of  the 
many  attempts  to  write  the  story  of  Jesus,  to 
which  St.  Luke  in  his  prologue  refers,  none  (with 
the  exception  of  Mt.  and  Mk.)  cau  be  said  with  any 
certainty  to  have  survived ;  *  although  it  is  possible 
that  the  Gospel  Fragment  of  FayAm  may  be  the 
wreckage  of  one  of  them.  In  any  case,  some  of  the 
earlier  non-canonical  Gospels,  which  are  extant  in 
more  or  less  fragmentary  condition,  are  probably 
the  products  of  the  general  desire,  that  was  every- 
where felt,  to  have  a  more  certain  knowledge  of 
Jesus  and  His  teaching  than  w^as  possible  from 
the  oral  instruction  of  wandering  evangelists.  The 
Gospel  ricconling  to  the  Hebretvs,  which  is  but  little 
later  than  tlie  Synoptics,  belongs  almost  certainly 
to  tills  class  ;  and  the  same  may  be  true  also  of  the 
Gos/ir/  iivi-nfiliiiij  tn  the  Egyptians. 

Tlie  iiiaj.iril y  (it  extra-canonical  Gospels  are  due, 
however,  to  other  causes.  Written  at  a  time  when 
the  present  Four  Gospels  were  gaining,  or  had 
already  gained,  a  jilace  of  exceptional  autliority,t 
they  came  into  existence  in  answer  to  two  desires, 
urgently  felt  in  certain  circles  of  Christians.     (1) 


that  given  liy  tlie  four  Gosjiels.  Tliis  intelligible 
and  not  uniia'tnrai  ciirinsity  was  .iiiected  chiefly  to 
the  facts  aiitciciiinl  t.i  rinisi  :,  advent,  and  to 
those  periods  nl  lli>  life  \\liiili  llic  older  Gospels 
left  in  shadow— His  paruutago,  lli.s  birth  and  chOd- 
hood,  and  the  period  after  the  Itesurrection.  It  is 
noteworthy  that  the  writers  who  endeavoured  to 
satisfy  this  desire  for  fuller  knowledge  made  no 
attempt  to  fill  up  the  silent  j^ears  between  Christ's 
childhood  and  His  entrance  on  His  public  ministry, 
the  reason  in  part  probably  being  that  '  it  seemed 
too  daring  for  them  to  illumine  a  darkness,  for 
wliicli  tlii'ie  was  not  the  slightest  historical  sugges- 
II. .11  ill  111,.  New  Testament'  (Hofmann,  PRE^  \. 
i;.".:.i.  Willi  gi-eater  probability,  however,  it  may 
!«■  sai.l  that  the  reason  was,  not  so  much  any  self- 
restraint  through  loyalty  to  the  data  of  history,  as 
the  absence  of  any  clear  dogmatic  motive ;  and 
dogmatic  motives,  as  will  appear,  were  almost 
invariably  associated  with  the  desire  to  satisfy 
curiosity.  It  may  be  safely  assumed  that,  had 
any  doctrinal  interest  called  for  the  history  of  the 
sUent  years,  no  scruples  about  historical  truthful- 
ness would  have  prevented  writers  from  enlivening 
them  with  the  products  of  their  fancy.  In  the 
main  it  is  certain  that  the  details  furnished  by 
the  apocryphal  writings  regarding  matters  about 
which  the  canonical  Gospels  are  .silent,  have  little 
or  no  historical  basis.  They  are  in  reality  Chris- 
tian h/fgqadoth,  popular  stories  similar  to  those  in 
Jewish' literature  which  were  framed  for  purposes 
of  pious  enteitaiiiiiK'iit  an.l  iiistini'tion.  The  Gos- 
pels of  the  Ii,f.,ii.i,  .-iilI  ri/ihl},i„„l,  for  example, 
are  fiiU  of  l«'-.-n.laiy  i.i.iti.i  .Irawn  from  various 
sources,  or  fn-i'ly  imciil.'.l  l.y  the  fancy  of  the 
writers.  AVhere'tlie  details  ai-e  not  entirely  imag- 
inative, they  ha\e  their  origin  in  the  transforma- 
tion of  utterances  of  Christ  into  deeds,  or  in  the 
literal  interpretation  of  OT  prophecies  and  Jewish 
expectations  about  the  Messiah,  or  in  the  ascrip- 
tion to  Jesus  of  miracles  similar  to  those  recorded 
in  the  OT  (Hofmann,  PRE^  i.  6.-).5). 

•Thcprolinliilitv  i^  1h.it  mn-it  of  tliciii  .li«n]iiieared  earl.V,  lieinK 
iiiiali!..  t..  iiD.int.tiii  1 1 1.  II  p.  .'.ill.  in  ;.!.  .iijm.I.  ..1  the  Gospels  which 


GOSPELS  (APOCRYPHAL) 


GOSPELS  (APOCHYPHAL) 


As  an  example  of  the  way  in  which  the  Christian  hajfijadisl 
workedj  it  may  suffice  to  mention  his  treatment  of  OT  l«xts. 
Pa  1487  reads:  'Praise  the  Lord  from  the  earth,  ye  dragons'; 
accordingly,  in  pseudo-Matthew  dragons  are  represented  as 
coming  out  of  a  cave  and  worshipping  the  child  Christ.  The 
picture  of  Paradise  regained  in  Is  IV''^-  suggested  the  legend  that 
all  kinds  of  wild  beasts  accompanied  the  Holy  Family  on  the 
way  to  Egj-pt  (Cowper,  Apocr.  Gosp.  lix  f.) 

JBut  although  the  Apocryphal  Gospels  abound  in 
legendary  accretions  of  this  kind,  the  mistake 
should  not  be  made  of  assuming  that  there  is  no 
authentic  material  in  the  additions  to  the  nana- 
tives  in  the  four  Gosjiels.  Oral  tradition  main- 
tained itself  for  a  time  after  our  present  Gospels 
were  reduced  to  A\Titing,  and  it  is  not  improbable 
that  genuine  sayings  of  Christ  and  authentic  details 
about  His  life  have  been  preserved  in  uncanonical 
books.     On  this  point  see  further  in  §  iii. 

(2)  A  much  more  powerful  motive  than  the 
desire  to  satisfy  curiosity,  leading  to  the  produc- 
tion of  Gospel  ■wTitings,  was  the  dogmatic  interest, 
the  desire  to  find  support  for  beliefs  which  were 
held  in  various  sections  of  the  Church.  This  was 
especially  marked  in  Gnostic  circles,  where  niimer- 
oiLs  Evangelic  writings  (running  into  thousands, 
Epiphanius  .says  [Beer.  26])  were  produced,  claiming 
the  authority  of  a  secret  tradition  for  their  peculiar 
doctrines. 
Even  in  the  earlier  Apocryphal  Gospels,  which  are  of  the 


canonical  Gospels.  Thus,  in  the  Gosprl  according  to  the  Hebrews 
the  conception  of  Christ  has  an  Ebionitic  tinge,  and  in  the  Gospel 
of  Peter  there  are  expressions  which  betray  Docetic  sympathies 
on  the  part  of  the  writer.  The  dogmatic  motive  is  prominent  as 
well  in  those  writings  which  fill  up  with  fictitious  details  the 
empty  spaces  of  the  Gospel  narrative,  and  thus  have  generally 
been  regarded  as  due  to  the  desire  to  gratify  the  irrepressible 
longing  for  fuller  knowledge.  It  is  doubtful  if  this  latter  motive, 
although  it  was  certainly  operative,  would  have  led  to  the  in- 
vention of  such  a  mass  of  fictitious  matter,  had  it  not  been 


story  of  Mary's  antece- 
Christ's  birth  was  due  not 
0  the  imperati\'e  dogmatic 


dents  and  of  the  circumstances 
merely  to  any  horror  vacui,  but  t 
necessity,  as  the  WTiter  conceived  it, 
alike  the  true  Divinity  and  the  tnu 
.SimUarly,  the  Childhood  Gospel  of 


Thorn 


would  never  have  found  acceptance 

not  been  for  the  witness  which  the  miracles  were  supposed  to 

bear  to  Christ's  supernatural  origin. 

iii.  KfXATioN  "TO  Canonical  Gospels.  —  Tlie 
fr.T,'iiiriit:ir\-  condition  and  the  uncertain  text  of 
iii:uiy  nf  111.-  A|iocrvphal  (iospels  render  a  conKdent 
iu.lL'iiH-iit  ,1-^  to  tlieir  relation  to  the  canonical 
(iii.-]ieU  exceedingly  difficult.  Where  the  question 
of  affinity  is  raised,  the  problem  to  be  solved  is 
whether  the  uncanonical  Gospels  are  dependent  on 
the  canonical,  or  draw  from  a  common  oral  source. 
The  latter  possibility  is  one  not  to  Ije  dismissed 
without  careful  consideration  ;  but,  on  the  whole, 
the  evidence  points  in  almost  every  ca.se  to  the  use 
of  some  or  all  of  the  four  Gospels  by  the  authors  of 
the  apocryphal  writings.  Only  in  the  case  of  one 
Gospel,  the  Gospel  according  to  the  Hebrews,  is 
there  a  strong  consensus  of  opinion  in  favour  of 
indejiendence  (see,  however,  vii.  A.  1).  Where  there 
is  an  appearance  of  independence,  tills  is  frequently 
to  be  accounted  for  by  a  free  manipulation  and  em- 
bellishment of  old  material,  to  bring  it  into  line 
with  the  writer's  peculiar  \m\at  of  view,  or  to  suit 
it  to  the  character  of  his  surroundings. 

While  a  laifje  degree  of  dependence  on  the 
canonical  Gospels  must  in  general  be  maintained  in 
regard  to  the  Apociyphal  Gospels,  this  must  not  be 
pressed  so  far  a,s  to  e.xclude  the  possibility  of  their 
embodying  details  drawn  from  reliable  oral  sources. 
The  fact  must  steadily  be  borne  in  mind  that  the 
stream  of  living  oral  tradition  continued  to  flow  for 
several  generations,  though  in  ever  decreasing  vol- 
ume, alongside  of  tlie  ^^Titten  Gospels ; '  aceord- 


*  Traces  of  the  influence  of  oral  tradition  on 
Gospels,  after  they  were  reduced  to  tcritnuf,  are  to  l>e  foinid  i 
the  wellknomi  additions  to  John  (S'")  and  Mark  {!(?*■-'»). 


ingly,  where  the  uncanonical  Gospels  deviate  from 
the  canonical  record,  either  by  slight  interpolations 
into  common  matter  or  by  additions  peculiarly 
their  own,  the  possibility  Is  always  open  that  in 
these  additions  we  have  early  and  reUable  tradi- 
tions, either  unknown  to  the  four  Evangelists  or 
passed  over  by  them  as  unsuitable  for  their  pur- 
pose. 

Two  Important  considerations  must,  however, 
Ije  kept  m  mind  in  estimating  the  trustworthi- 
ness ot  aU  such  additions.  In  the  first  place,  the 
authoritative  position  which  the  canonical  Gospels 
early  reached  as  authentic  sources  of  the  life  and 
teacbing  of  Jesus  entitles  them  to  be  used  as 
a  touchstone  of  the  probable  authenticity  of  the 
additional  matter  contained  in  the  Apocryphal 
Gospels.  No  saying  of  Christ  or  detail  about  His 
life  has  any  title  to  be  regarded  as  genuine  if  it  does 
not  fit  into  the  conception  wliich  the  four  Evangelists 
have  given  us  of  the  teaching  and  personality  of 
Jesus.  Secondly,  when  we  keep  in  view  the  un- 
doubted fact  that  fictitious  TN-ritings  were  common 
in  which  the  life  and  teaching  of  Christ  were  freely 
handled  m  the  interest  of  heretical  sects,  it  is  dear 
that  extreme  caution  must  be  observol  in  nceivini; 
as  authentic  any  addition  to  the  canonical  n.i-..r,i. 
If  it  would  be  less  than  just  to  say  that  all  the 
Apocryphal  Gospels  stand  in  the  position  of  suspect 
witnesses,  ■nath  a  presumption  of  imreliability 
against  them  in  respect  of  their  peculiar  matter,  it 
is  nevertheless  true  that  their  exclusion  from  the 
Canon,  as  well  as  the  notoriously  tainted  origin  of 
some  of  them,  render  it  imperative  that  their 
claim  to  embody  a  Genuine  tradition  must  be  care- 
fully sift«d,  and  allowed  only  after  the  clearest 
proof. 

iv.  V.\lue. — The  question  of  greatest  moment 
which  arises  in  estimating  the  value  of  the  Apoc- 
ryphal Gospels  naturally  has  reference  to  their 
worth  as  additional  sources  for  the  life  and  teach- 
ing of  Jesus.  From  what  has  been  already  said 
about  their  origin  and  their  relation  to  the  canoni- 
cal Gospels,  their  value  In  this  respect  will  appear 
to  be  extremely  slight.  A  comparison  of  the 
Apocryphal  Gospels  with  those  In  the  Canon  makes 
the  pre-eminence  of  the  latter  Incontestably  clear, 
and  shows  that  as  sources  of  Christ's  life  the 
former,  for  all  practical  purposes,  may  he  neglected. 
The  simple  beauty  and  verisimilitude  of  the  picture 
of  Jesus  in  the  four  Gospels  stand  out  in  strong 
relief  when  viewed  in  the  light  of  the  artificial 
and  legendary  stories  which  characterize  most  of 
the  Apocryphal  Gospels.  The  proverbial  simplicity 
of  truth  receives  a  striking  commentary  when  (for 
example)  the  miracles  of  the  Canonical  Gospels  are 
compared  ^^'lth  those  of  the  Apocryphal  writings. 
The  former,  for  the  most  part,  are  instinct  with 
ethical  purpose  and  significance,  and  are  felt  to  be 
the  natural  and  unforced  expression  of  the  sublime 
personality  of  Jesus  ;  the  latter  are  largely  theatri- 
cal exhibitions  without  ethical  content.  In  them 
'we  find  no  worthy  conception  of  the  laws  of 
providential  interfeVenc  e  :  they  are  wrought  to 
supply  personal  want-,  or  to  jiatify  private  feel- 
ings, and  often  are  jm-itiv  'ly  iinmoral  (Westcott). 
In  a  few  of  the  Gospel-  « lii'eh  .-.how  signs  of  inde- 
pendence, there  may  be  here  and  there  a  trace  of 
primitive  and  trustworthy  tradition  :  but  all  such 
details,  which  have  a  reasonable  claim  to  be  con- 
sidered authentic,  do  not  sensibly  increase  the  sum 
of  our  knowledge  about  Christ.  The  conclusion, 
based  on  the  comparison  of  the  Apocryphal  with 
the  Canonical  Gospels,  is  amply  warranted,  that  In 
rejecting  the  fonuer  and  cnoosln"  the  latter  as 
authoritative  Scriptures  tlie  Church  showed  a  true 
feeling  for  what  was  original  and  authentic. 

Though  the  Apocryphal  Gospels  aflford  us  little 
additional  knowledge  ahout  Christ,  they  are  in- 


GOSPELS  (APOCRYPHAL) 


G0SPP:LS  (APOCRYPHAL 


valuable  as  enabling  us  to  realize  more  clearly  the 
conditions  under  whicli  the  four  Gospels  were 
received  in  the  Church,  until  they  were  finally 
established  as  authoritative  in  the  Gospel  Canon. 
The  existence  of  so  many  Evangelic  writings  shows 
that  for  some  time  after  the  Canonical  Gospels 
appeared,  tliey  had  no  position  of  commanding 
influence.  The  high  place  which  oral  tradition— 
'the  living  and  abiding  voice' — stUl  retained  in 
the  estimation  of  the  Church  (ef.  Euseb.  HE  iii. 
39.  4)  militated  against  the  acceptance  of  any 
written  Gospel  as  authoritative  beyond  the  com- 
munities in  which  it  was  current.  In  the  early 
part  of  the  2nd  cent,  we  have,  accordingly,  to  think 
of  the  four  Gospels  as  having  merely  a  local  and  cir- 
cumscribed authority,  while  in  different  sections  of 
the  Church  the  production  of  Evangelic  literature 
still  proceeded,  in  which  the  tradition  was  handled 
more  or  less  freely  to  suit  the  dominant  conceptions 
and  needs.  But  by  the  middle  of  the  century  there 
were  indications  that  the  four  Gospels,  already 
widely  kno^vn  through  the  constant  intercourse  that 
united  Christian  communities  together,  were  being 
elevated  above  their  competitors  to  a  place  of  excep- 
tional authority.  This  was  due,  not  to  mere  good 
fortune  or  to  any  arbitrary  dealing  on  the  part  of 
the  Church,  but  to  the  superior  claims  of  the  writ- 
ings themselves,  which  were  recognized  when  the 
necessity  arose  of  counteracting,  by  trustworthy 
and  autlientic  records,  the  rapid  growth  of  a 
l^seudo-tradition  in  Gnostic  circles.  This  rise  of 
our  four  Gospels  to  a  commanding  and  unchallenge- 
able position  bears  witness  not  only  to  their  inherent 
value, — which  the  Church,  with  a  fine  spiritual 
sensitiveness,  perceived, — but  to  the  conviction 
that,  as  opposed  to  fictitious  writings  which  ap- 
peared under  the  names  of  Apostles,  they  embodied 
the  testimony  of  Apostolic  writers.  By  the  time 
of  Irenffius  (c.  180)  the  Gospel  canon  may  be  re- 
garded as  definitely  fixed ;  and  although  Apocryphal 
Gospels  continued  to  circulate,  the  authoritative 
position  of  the  four  Gospels  was  finally  assured. 

Perhaps  the  chief  value  of  the  Apocryphal  Gospels 
is  to  be  found  in  the  light  which  they  oast  on  the 
conditions  of  life  and  thought  Ln  early  Christian 
times.  They  are  of  service  in  the  difficult  work  of 
reconstructing  the  complex  environment  in  which 
Christianity  grew  up. 

When,  for  example,  one  reads  in  the  Childhood  Gospel  of 
Thomas  the  account  of  the  miracles  wrought  by  the  child 
Christ,  and  marks  the  spirit  of  diablerie  so  frequently  exhibited, 
one  is  conscious  of  nothing  but  a  painful  feeling  of  wonder,  that 
fables  so  bizarre  and  so  revolting  could  fever  have  been  tolerated 
in  a  communitv  of  Christians.  Of  any  ethical  sympathy  with 
the  spirit  of  Christ,  of  any  recognition  of  the  beauty  and 
simplicity  of  Christ's  childhood,  as  He  ^ew  in  grace  and  wisdom, 
in  favour  with  God  and  man,  there  is  in  this  Gospel  hardly  the 
faintest  trace.  Though  worthless  as  an  account  of  Christ  s  child- 
hood, the  Gospel  of  Thomas  is  yet  a  mirror  in  which  we  see 
reflected  the  curious  condition  of  the  society  which  accepted  it. 
We  see  here,  in  a  typical  instance,  how  strong  were  the  external 
influences  which  played  on  the  development  of  phristianitv  in 


early  times.  In  the  process  of  permeating  thi 
its  great  thought  of  Redemption  and  its  loft, 
Christianity,  as  was  inevitable,  was  itself  coloured,  and 


'orld  with 


i  lofty  ethical  i 


tain  circles  distorted,  by  the  foreign  elements  of  its  environment. 
Oriental  mythology  and  Greek  philosophy  had  met.  and  given 
rise  to  syncretistic  systems  which  exerted  a  deep  influence  on 
men's  conceptions  of  the  Christian  faith  and  life.  Traces  of  this 
!  clearly  c 


hildhood  stories  in  the  Gospel  of  Thoinas. 
The  confusion  and  vagueness  of  the  Christo- 
logical  views  in  the  different  Apocryphal  Gospels 
also  bear  witness  to  the  great  variety  of  influences 
which  were  at  work  in  the  early  Church,  and  en- 
able us  to  realize  with  what  trouble  the  conception 
of  the  Divine  manhood  of  Jesus  was  eventually 
established.  The  indecision  and  one  -  sidedness 
which  are  revealed  in  doctrinal  matters  are  also 
traceable  in  the  interpretation  of  the  ethical  content 
of  Christ's  teaching  and  life.  Ascetic  and  Encratite 
views  are  found  in  several  Gospels,  and  no  doubt 
VOL.  I.— 43 


were  characteristic  of  all  the  Gnostic  Gospels.  A 
close  sympathy  with  the  true  ethical  spirit  of 
Christianity  is,  liowever,  noticeable  in  the  Gospel 
according  to  the  Hebrews,  in  which  stress  is  laid  on 
acts  of  mercy  and  brotherly  kindness ;  and  in  the 
'  Traditions  of  Matthias '  mentioned  by  Clement  of 
Alexandria,  and  possibly  identical  with  the  Gnostic 
Gospel  of  Mdtthias,  the  doctrine  of  Christian  re- 
sponsibility for  others'  welfare,  in  its  most  stringent 
form,  is  very  forcibly  put :  '  If  the  neighbour  of  an 
elect  person  sins,  the  elect  has  sinned ;  for  if  he 
had  lived  according  to  the  counsels  of  the  Word, 
his  neighbour  would  have  so  esteemed  his  manner 
of  life  that  he  would  have  kept  free  from  sin.' 

The  apologetic  interest  which  is  so  characteristic 
of  2nd  cent,  writers  (witness  the  Apologies  of  Aris- 
tides,  Justin,  TertuUian,  etc.)  is  reflected  in  several 
of  the  Apocryphal  Gospels. 

Traces  are  to  be  found  in  the  Gospel  according  to  the  Hebrews, 
in  which  the  servant  of  the  high  priest  is  a  witness  to  the  Resur- 
rection. A  later  stage  of  the  apologetic  movement  may  be 
observed  in  the  Gospel  [of  Peter,  where  Mate  is  practically 
exonerated  from  blame  for  Chr'St's  condemnation,  and  is  made 
to  bear  witness  to  Christ's  Divinity.  In  the  Acts  of  Pilate 
{Gospel  of  Nicodemus)  the  movement  has  reached  its  climax  in 
the  reverence  which  the  Romans  pay  to  Jesus  at  His  trial,  in 
the  miraculous  homage  of  the  Roman  standards,  and  in  the 
irrefutable  evidence  given  of  Christ's  resurrection,  to  the  con- 
viction of  His  enemies. 

A  subsidiary  element  in  estimating  the  value  of 
the  Apocryphal  Gospels  is  their  antiquarian  in- 
terest. A  passage  in  the  Prutevangcliuin  of  James 
(ch.  18)  affords  an  interesting  parallel  to  the  scene 
in  the  fairy  tale,  '  The  Sleeping  Beauty,'  when  by 
a  magic  spell  the  whole  of  nature  suddenly  stands 
still,  and  all  living  beings  are  immovably  rooted 
where  they  are.  The  Childhood  Gospel  of  Thomas, 
useless  as  it  is  as  a  source  of  information  about 
Christ's  youth,  gives  a  remarkably  vivid  and  con- 
vincing picture  of  Je^vish  village  life.  Caution 
must  be  observed  in  trusting  the  details  of  Jewish 
life  in  the  Protevangelium ;  many  of  them  are 
entirely  unhistorical. 

V.  Doctrinal  characteristics.  —  As  stated 
above  in  §  ii.,  one  of  the  main  impulses  which  led 
the  production  of  Apocryphal  Gospels  was  the 
to  establish  peculiar  tenets  held  in  certain 
spels  of  this  tyi^e, 
of  our  Lord's  life  a 
ing,  were  in  reality  Tendetizschriften,  doctrinal 
treatises  conceived  and  written  in  the  interests 
of  a  definite  system  of  thought.  Such  were  the 
numerous  Gnostic  Gospels,  of  which  the  .smallest 
fragments  remain.  But  even  those  Gospels  in  the 
production  of  which  there  was  no  deliberate  dog- 
matic purpose,  are  doctrinally  significant.  It  is 
true  of  them,  equally  with  the  canonical  Gospels, 
that  they  were  written  in  the  interests  of  faith, 
iK  TrldTem  eli  wl<mv  ;  the  writers  were  not  mere 
chroniclers  of  past  events,  giving  information  about 
One  in  whose  life  and  personality  they  had  no  vital 
concern  ;  they  were  believers,  for  whom  Christ  was 
Lord.  The  religious  value  which  Jesus  had  for 
them,  and  the  manner  in  which  they  conceived  of 
His  person,  were  reflected  in  tlieir  narrative  of  His 
life.  However  small  tlie  value  of  the  writings  may 
be  as  authentic  sources  of  information  regarding 
Je.sus,  they  are  interesting  as  showing  by  a  side 
light  what  men  thought  about  Him.  How  far  the 
early  Church  as  a  whole  was  from  any  clear  and 
uniform  conception  of  Christ,  is  apparent  from  the 
Apocryphal  Gospels.  In  them  we  have  not  only 
the  reflexion  of  views  representing  the  main  stream 
of  Christian  thought,  but  also  the  foreshadowings 
of  doctrines  which  later,  in  their  developed  form, 
were  rejected  as  heretical. 

The  maiority  of  the  Apocryphal  Gospels  betray  a  heretical 
tendency,  which  varies  broadly  according  as  the  Divine  or  the 
human  nature  of  Christ  is  denied.  On  the  one  hand,  there  m 
the  Ebionitic  conception  of  Jesus,  with  its  rejection  of  His 


Christian  circles.     Gospels  of  this  type,  althoudi 
professedly  narratives  of  our  Lord's  life  and  teac^i- 


674 


GOSPELS  (APOCRYPHAL) 


GOSPELS  (APOCRYPHAL) 


^«.v...j  u.tti...,  « V.  other,  the  DocetiCt  with  its  obscuration 

r  denial  of  His  true  liumanity.  Both  these  opposing:  views  find 
expression  in  the  Apoer\iihal  Gospels.  The  former  is  found  in 
the  Gospel  aceonliiui  to  the  Ilebretvs  and  in  the  Gospel  of  the 
Twelve  AiMstkis ;  the  latter,  somewhat  veiled,  in  the  Gospel  of 
Peter,  but  fullv  developed  in  the  Gnostic  Gospels,  in  which  the 
Saviour— tlie  heavenly  Christ— freed  from  the  association  with 
the  phantasmal  earthly  Christ,  and  made  the  possessor  of  His 
full  powers  through  the  death  and  resurrection,  declares  the 
true  wisdom  to  His  disciples. 

The  Childhood  Gospels  stand  in  the  main  current  of  ecclesias- 
tical doctrine  in  their  view  of  the  ^person  of  Christ.  The  Gospel 
of  Thomas  shows  that  the  circles  in  which  it  found  acceptance 
lield  to  the  doctrine  of  Christ's  human  and  Divine  natures. 
There  are  traces  that  point  to  a  Gnostic  origin,  and  to  a  concep- 
tion of  Christ  in  which  His  true  humanity  was  obscured ;  but 
in  the  later  form  in  which  it  was  current  in  the  Church,  the 
humanitv  and  Divinity  of  our  Lord  arc  alike  emphasized.  The 
child  Jesus  is  a  boy  among  boys,  taking  His  part  in  the  usual 
games  and  occupations  of  childhood ;  and  yet  the  belief  in  His 
supernatural  dignity  is  evidenced  by  the  extraordinary  miracles 
attributed  to  Him,  and  by  His  astonishing  knowledge,  which 
drew  the  confession  from  His  teacher  :  *  This  child  is  not  earth- 
born  ;  assuredly  he  was  born  before  the  creation  of  the  world ' 
(ch.  7).  The  Protevangelium  of  James,  too,  it  is  clear,  was 
written  in  the  interests  of  orthodoxy,  which  were  imperilled, 
alike  hv  the  belief  current  in  Jewish-Christian  circles  that  Joseph 
was  the  father  of  Jesus,  and  by  the  Gnostic  doctrine  that,  in 
being  born  of  Mary,  Jesus  did  not  partake  of  her  human  nature, 
but  passed  through  her  like  water  through  a  pipe  (Epiphan. 
Heer.  31.  7).  In  opposition  to  this  double  attack  on  the  gener- 
ally accepted  doctrine,  the  writer  of  the  Protevaiieieliiim,  while 
not  leaving  it  in  doubt  that  Jesus  was  born  as  a  human  child 
(the  infant  took  the  breast  from  His  mother),  sought  to  make 
His  Divinity  secure  by  depicting  Mary  as  holy  from  her  birth, 
as  fed  only  on  angels*  food,  as  conceiving  by  the  word  of  the 
Lord,  as  bringing  forth  her  child  in  virginity,  and  as  remaining 
a  virgin  to  the  end.  It  is  noteworthy  that,  although  the  primary 
object  of  the  Protevangelium  was  to  safeguard  the  orthodox 
conception  of  Christ's  person  against  hostile  attacks,  the  method 
adopted  had  the  result  of  elevating  .Mary  above  the  ordinary 
levels  of  humanity,  and  of  initiating  a  mo\  emcnt  which,  deriving 
strength  from  other  sources,  terminated  in  the  worship  of  Mary, 
the  All-Holy  mother  of  God. 

vi.  Influence.— Although  after  the  2nd  cent, 
no  Gospels  were  reckoned  as  authoritative  except 
those  now  in  t*ie  Canon,  the  Apocryphal  Gospels 
continued  to  be  read  for  purposes  of  ediKcation, 
both  in  public  and  in  private.  Those  which  were 
distinctly  lieretical  gradually  disappeared  as  the 
power  of  the  Church  grew,  while  those  which  were 
of  a  type  similar  to  the  canonical  Gospels  were  un- 
able for  any  lengthened  period  to  maintain  their 
position  alongside  their  authoritative  rivals.  Still 
we  find  tliat  the  Gospel  according  to  the  Hebrews 
was  read  in  some  quarters  in  Jerome's  day  (end  of 
4th  cent.),  and  was  highly  esteemed  by  that  Father 
himself;  wliile  the  vitality  of  the  Gospel  of  Peter 
is  evidenced  by  the  fact  that  a  lar<;e  portion  of  it 
was  placed  in  the  grave  of  a  monk  in  the  early 
Middle  Ages  (8th-12th  cent. ).  The  popularity  of 
the  Childhood  Gospels  was  remarkable,  especially 
in  the  Churches  of  the  East.  There  the  Protevan- 
gelium was  so  highly  prized  as  a  book  of  devotion 
that  it  was  used  for  reading  in  public  worship,  and 
furnished  material  for  the  homilies  of  preachers. 
Translations  of  it  circulated  in  Svriac,  Coptic,  and 
Arabic,  and,  along  with  other  chUdhood  legends, 
its  stories,  often  greatly  embellished  and  exagger- 
ated, found  a  place  in  a  comprehensive  Gospel  of 
the  Infancy  and  Childhood,  the  so-called  '  Arabic 
Gospel,'  which  had  a  wide  circulation  not  only  in 
the  Churches  in  the  East,  but  in  Mohamme'dan 
circles.  Passages  from  the  Protevangelium  stand 
m  the  lectionaries  of  the  orthodox  Church,  for  use 
at  the  festivals  held  in  honour  of  Mary  and  of  her 
reputed  parents,  Joachim  and  Anna. 

In  tlie  Western  Church  the  Apocryphal  Gospels 
were  ii.j.iiii.il  with  more  suspicion.  Towards  the 
(A^i^v  .11  ill.  nil  (int.  their  authority  was  repudiated 
in  the  jiliiiic-i  tiiiLis  by  Jerome  and  Augustine,  the 
foriiirr  cliiiructtTizing  certain  stories  as  rx  ddira- 
mentis  apocryphorum  petita  (Tappehorn,  Ausser- 
biblische  Nachrichtcn,  15).  On  the  other  liand, 
their  contemporaries,  Zeno  of  Verona,  and  Pru- 
dentius,  the  greatest  poet  of  early  Christian  times, 
drew  from  the  Protevangelium  In  their  works  in 


praise  of  Mary.  The  combined  influence  of  Jerome 
and  Augustine,  however,  determined  the  ecclesias- 
tical attitude  to  the  Apocryphal  Gospels,  and  the 
ban  of  the  Church  fell  upon  them  under  Damasus 
(382),  Innocent  I.  (405),  and  Gelasius  (496).  In  the 
long  run  this  condemnation  by  ecclesiastical  author- 
ity proved  unavailing  to  check  the  popular  appe- 
tite for  the  apocryphal  legends ;  and  by  various 
devices  the  ^vritings,  which  had  incurred  the  cen- 
sure of  the  Church,  were  brought  back  again  into 
public  circulation. 

Hamack  truly  remarks  that  'the  history  of  apocryphal  litera- 
ture is  a  proof  that  the  prohibition  of  books  is  powerless  against 
a  pressing  need.  In  all  sections  and  in  all  languages  of  the 
Church  this  literature  is  perhaps  the  most  strongly  represented 
alongside  of  the  canonical  writings,  in  a  form,  as  one  would 
expect,  that  is  aUva.vs  changing  to  suit  the  taste  of  the  age. 
It  was  really  apocryphal,  that  is  to  say,  it  had  what  may  be 
termed  a  subterranean  existence  ;  but,  suppressed  and  perse- 
cuted though  it  was,  it  always  forced  its  way  back  to  the  surface, 
and  at  last  the  public  tradition  of  the  Church  was  defencelesa 
against  it '  iGesch.  d.  altchr.  Litt.  I.  Ix.  note  5). 

Within  a  century  after  the  Decretum  Gelasii, 
Gregory  of  Tours  in  his  book  de  Gloria  Martyrum 
(i.  ch.  4)  had  no  scruples  in  using  the  extravagant 
legends  contained  in  tiie  '  Transitus  Marise ' ;  indeed, 
so  little  store  was  apparently  set  by  ecclesiastical 
condemnation,  that  about  435,  thirty  years  after 
the  decree  of  Innocent  I.,  a  mosaic  of  the  Annunci- 
ation in  S.  Maria  Maggiore  in  Rome,  prepared 
under  the  direction  of  Sixtus  III.,  embodied  apocry- 
phal details.  Apocryphal  writings  are  used  by 
pseudo-Chrysostom  (c.  600) ;  and  in  the  epic  poem 
of  the  nun  Hroswitha  (t  968),  entitled  Historia 
nativitatis  laudabilisque  conversationis  intactm  Dei 
genitricis,  the  material  is  in  part  dra'vvn  from  the 
later  Gospels  of  the  Childhood.  From  the  12th 
cent,  onwards,  the  Apocryphal  Gospels  aftbrded  an 
inexhaustible  mine  for  poets  and  minstrels  in  Ger- 
many, France,  and  England  ;  and  numerous  miracle- 
plays  represented  incidents  drawn  from  the  same 
source.  A  jiowerful  impulse  was  given  to  the 
spread  of  these  legends  by  the  Dominican  Vincent 
de  lieamais,  who  in  his  work  entitled  Speculum 
M.ijiis.  iml.li.hed  about  the  middle  of  the  13tli 
lint.,  aii.l  ii.inslated  in  the  following  century  into 
many  laiiuu.iLjes,  transcribed  large  portions  of 
px.iiilii-Miittlirii-  and  the  Gospel  of  Nicodemits,  etc. 
The  latter  half  of  the  13th  cent,  also  saw  the 
appearance  of  a  collection  of  legendary  Lives  of  the 
Saints,  the  Speculum  Sanctorum,  better  known  as 
the  Golden  Legend,  written  by  another  member  of 
the  Dominican  order,  Jacobus  de  Voragine,  Arch- 
bishop of  Genoa.  Tliis  work,  in  which  many  of 
the  apocryjdial  legends  find  a  place,  had  an  immense 
influence,  there  beiiiL'  manuscript  translations  ex- 
tant in  English.  ( nriii.m,  Fieneh,  Italian,  and 
Spanish.  With  tin-  iintntion  ni  the  printing-press 
this  influence  was  ln-cly  i Mended,  the  Legenda 
Aurea  and  Vincent  s  .s/,..,,/„,„  lieing  among  the 
earliest  books  to  l.e  s.i  ii|i  in  type.  From  that 
time  onwards,  the  ^.tol  ie~  .,t  i  he  .Vpocryphal  Gospels 

have  had  an  intlnenr i  iicpular  Christianity  in 

Catholic  countries  far  exceeding  that  of  the  Biblical 
narrative. 

Roman  Catholic  writers  have  denied  their  claim  to  be  in  any 
sense  authoritative  sources    of    Evangelic    hist^ory,   and    have 

judgment  w:*-  I'.-i--''!  iipi'ii  tln'iu  h\  thr   I'rtjvil  Cnii'jrcLratinn  of 


•altli.' 


the 


ther 


,  thcs 


I 


stitious  heliffs.  Kven  TapiH-hcni,  a  Roman  Catliolic  writer, 
who,  in  his  scholarly  tri;itiv.- OH  T/..  A,,„rnij,/,al  G,...,).?*  .,f  the 
Childhood,  etc.,  speak-s  with  .1..  i'  n -n  t  cif  the  tiiickm  y  to 
accept  these  writings  a-<  tru~t\\"rlh\-  lii-tnrii-il  Mmrri-;.  .■aiiiiot 
resist  the  temptation  to  n  tain  ..^  n.urli  i.t  tli.-ir  .■"iiti-nt-i  as  has 
been  taken  up  into  ei-'lesia^li.al  tradition.  He  ai-cejits,  for 
instance,  as  reliable,  the  names  of  .Marv's  parents,  the  circum- 
stances relating  to  her  birth,  her  dedication  to  the  Temple 


GOSPELS  (APOCKYPHAL) 


GOSPELS  (APOCRYPHAL;   G75 


vice,  the  marvellous  story  of  her  death,  resurrection,  and 
ension,  and  declares  that  use  of  these  apocryphal  data  may 
be  made  with  an  easy  conscience  for  the  purpose  of  religious 
edification  (op.  cit.  88). 

The  narratives  of  the  Apocryiihal  Gospels  have 
had  an  extraordinary  inllin'iicf  on  Christian  art. 
Reference  has  already  In.  n  hiaili;  !■■  thu  attraction 
which  the  legends  had  Inv  |.(,i.(s  liom  the  earliest 
times,  and  especially  siiue  the  tlutu  of  the  publica- 
tion of  the  Legcnda  Aui-cu.  (For  details  of  the 
earlier  poetry  see  von  Lehner,  Die  Marienvcrchrung, 
256 if.).  Sculpture  and  painting  also  owed  many 
of  their  subjects  to  apocryphal  sources,  or  were 
influenced  in  their  treatment  by  apocryphal  details. 
The  history  of  Mai-y's  reputed  parents,  her  service 
in  the  Temple,  her  betrothal  to  Joseph,  the  Annun- 
ciation, the  Birth  of  Jesus  in  a  cave,  the  Flight 
into  Egypt,  the  Assumption  of  Mary — these  and 
other  incidents  described  in  the  Apocryphal  Gospels 
were  favourite  themes  of  painters  and  sculptors, 
especially  during  the  Renaissance. 

A  marble  tablet  of  the  4th  or  5th  cent,  in  the  crjpt  of  St. 
Maxiinin  in  Provence,  represents  Mary  in  the  attitude  of  prayer, 
with  the  inscription  in  barbarous  Latin,  MAEIA  VIRGO  lilN- 
ESTEE  DE  TEMPUIO  GEROSALE— 'The  Virgin  Mary,  servant 
of  the  temple  at  Jerusalem'  (von  Lehner  op  c't  32")  The 
events  m  the  life  of  the  \irt.m  arranged  m  a  series  weie  de 
picted  b>  different  painters  of  the  Renaibsance  one  of  the  best 
known  scr        V      ,   tl  it  1      Tilic     f    11     i    11      B  ron  illi 


!0f  T  1 

ilj  ttoik  (in  11 1.  1  ill  ottca  llUan) 
The  Annunciation  is  a  fa\ourite  theme  in  Christian  art  m 
accordance  with  the  narratne  m  the  Ptottianjel  um  Marj  is 
represented  either  at  the  w  ell  w  ith  a  pitcher  of  w  ater  or  spinning 
wool  for  the  \  e  I  of  the  temple  (as  in  the  mosaic  aire  idy  referred 
to  in  S  Maria  Ma„^  r  in  Rome)  Pictures  of  the  Natuitj 
betray  the  infi  tn  f  tl  c  apocr\phaI  stories  the\  show  the 
mother  and  hll  and  I  stph  in  a  ta\e  where  according  to 
the  Ptot     t    f  I  lp  us  was  born     a  dazzling,  h^ht  radiates 

from  the  face  of  the  child  ;  an  ox  and  an  ass  (farst  mentioned  m 
pseudo-Maltheui)  bow  in  adoration  before  Him— a  frequent  re- 
presentation in  early  reliefs  (von  Lehner,  op.  cit.  314  ff.) — or  in 
later  pictures  are  introduced  as  mere  picturesque  details.  An 
incident  in  the  Flight  to  Egypt,  the  bending  down  of  a  palm- 
tree  to  yield  its  fruit  to  Slary,  affords  a  subject  for  many 
beautiful_  works  (e.g.  by  Pinturicchio,  William  Blake).  The 
Assumption  of  Mary  was  frequently  represented  in  paintings 
from  the  10th  cent,  onward  (c;/.  Titian's  in  the  Academy,  Venice  ; 
Botticelli's  in  the  National  Gallery),  while  the  consummation  of 
her  life  is  depicted  in  her  coronation  as  Queen  of  Heaven  (among 
others  by  Raphael,  Era  Angelico,  and  Taddeo  Gaddi).  The 
second  part  of  the  Gospel  of  Nicodemus — The  Descent  into  Hell 


The  narratives  in  the  Koran  about  Jesus,  who  is  regarded  as 
a  forerunner  of  Mohammed,  are  drawn  largely  from  apocryphal 
sources,  either  directly  from  the  so-called  Arahic  Gospel  of  the. 
Infancy,  or  indirectly  from  the  popular  tales  which  had  an 


---  parents  are  named 
Banna,— of  her  dedication  to  tlie  Temple,  of  the 
choice  of  Joseph  to  be  her  protector,  etc.  Jesus  is  represented 
as  working  miracles  in  His  childhood ;  His  making  of  birds  out 
of  clay  (Gospel  of  Thomas)  is  mentioned.  The  Koran  represents 
strongly  Docetic  views  in  its  denial  that  Jesus  died  upon  the 
Cross.  In  Sura  4.  156  the  Jews  are  reported  as  sa.iing :  '  We 
have  killed  the  Messiah,  Jesus,  the  Son  of  Mar^',  theMessenger 
of  God ' ;  to  which  the  answer  is  immediately  given  :  '  Vet  they 
did  not  kill  and  crucify  Him,  but  a  phantasm  appeared  to 
them.  ...  In  truth  they  did  not  kill  Him,  but  God  raised  Him 
to  Himself ;  for  God  is  strong  and  wise.'  Other  legends  about 
Jesus,  not  mentioned  in  the  Koran,  were  collected  by  Moslem 
commentators,  notably  by  Kessasus.  See  art.  Christ  m  Moham- 
medan Literature  in  Appendix  to  vol.  ii. 

vii.  Classification.  —  The  classification  here 
adopted  follows  that  given  by  Harnack  {Gesch.  d. 
altchr.  Liu.  i.  4  f. )  and  by  Tasker  (Hastings'  DB, 
Extra  Vol.  422  f . ). 


1.  Gospel  according  to  the  Hebrews. 

2.  Gospel  according  to  the  Egj-ptians. 

3.  Gospel  of  Peter. 

4.  FayOm  Gospel  Fragment. 

6.  Oxyrhyncus  Gospel  Fragment. 
3.  Heretical  and  Gnostic  Gospels,  wTitten  to  establish  peculio 
conceptions  of  the  person  and  life  of  Jesus. 
1.  Gospel  of  Marcion. 


2.  Gospel  of  the  Twelve  Apostles. 

3.  Gospel  of  Thomas. 

4.  Gospel  of  Philip. 

C.  Suppleniental  Gospels,  written  to  throw  light  on  the  dark 
parts  of  Christ's  history. 

(a)  Gospels  of  the  Childhood,  together  with  those  dealing 

with  the  parents  of  Jesus. 

1.  Protevangelium  of  James  with  the  recensions— 

(1)  Gospel  of  pseudo-Matthew. 

(2)  Gospel  of  the  Nativity  of  Mary. 

2.  Childhood  Gospel  of  Thomas. 

3.  Arabic  Gospel  of  the  Childhood. 

4.  History  of  Joseph  the  Canjcnter. 

5.  The  Departure  of  Mary. 

(b)  Gospels  dealing  with  the  Passion  and  the  post-Resurrection 


veral  Gospels  are  worked 


life  of  Jesus. 

1.  Gospel  of  Nicodemus. 

2.  Legend  of  Abgar. 
D.  Gospel   Harmonies,  in 

together  into  one. 
Gospel  of  Tatian  (Diatessanm). 

A.  1.  Gospel  according  to  the  Hebrews. — The 

earliest  mention  of  this  Gospel  occurs  in  the  'Tiro- 
/jLvrifiaTa  of  Ilegesippus  about  the  year  180  (Euseb. 
HE  iv.  22.  S).  The  name  'according  to  the 
Hebrews '  is  not  original ;  in  the  circle-s  in  which 
the  Gospel  was  current,  it  apparently  had  no  dis- 
tinctive name,  that  which  it  now  bears  having  been 
given  to  it  by  outsiders  to  indicate  that  it  was  the 
Gospel  m  use  among  Hebrew  Christians,  the  de- 
scendants of  the  ongmal  Church  in  Judiea.  There 
IS  soini    jirnbil  ility  in  the  view,  which  is  strongly 

1\  i(  I  l\  li  iiittk  ( C Aran.  i.  637 f.),  that  the 
t  I  I  \  n  u  in  the  Jewish-CIiristian  com- 
1  uiiit\  11  \l  \  11  lilt  and  that  the  title  was  given 
to  It  to  di  tui^ui  h  it  fiom  the  Gospel  used  by  the 
native  Chiistian  community,  the  Gospel  according 
to  tht  Egyptians  The  language  m  which  the 
Gospel  ■N\a&  written  (as  we  learn  from  Jerome, 
contia  Pdng  m  2)  was  West  Aramaic,  the  lan- 
guage of  Christ  and  His  Apostles, — a  circumstance 
which  betrays  its  influence  on  the  narrative  in  the 
fact  that  the  Holy  Spirit  is  represented  as  ferakle 
('  My  Mother  the  Holy  Spirit,'  the  Aramaic  rului 
being  feminine).  The  Gospel  was  translated  into 
Latin  and  Greek  by  Jerome,  who  had  a  very  high 
opinion  of  it,  and  was  inclined  to  regard  it  as  the 
original  Matthew ;  but  it  is  more  than  probable 
that  it  had  already  circulated  in  a  Greek  version  in 
difterent  parts  of  the  Church,  and  found  consider- 
able recognition.  It  was  wrongly  identified  by 
Jerome  with  the  Ebionitic  Gospel — the  Gospel  of 
the  Twelve  Apostles,  also  attributed  to  Matthew — 
which  was  written  originally  in  Greek,  and  was  in 
use  among  tlie  Gnostic  Ebionites. 

As  the  fragments  which  have  been  preserved  to 
us  show,  the  Gospel  according  to  the  Hebrews  was 
of  the  Synoptic  type.  Whether  it  contained  a 
story  of  the  Nativity  is  uncertain,  but  (considering 
the  Jewish-Christian  standpoint  of  the  book)  highly 
improbable.  Included,  however,  were  tlie  Baptism, 
the  Temptation,  the  Lord's  Prayer,  the  Healing  of 
the  man  with  the  withered  hand,  the  pericope 
adultera;  (or  something  .similar),  the  injunction  to 
forgive  unto  seventy  times  seven,  the  conversation 
with  the  Rich  Young  Ruler,  the  entrance  into  Jeru- 
salem, the  parable  of  the  Pounds,  the  Trial,  the 
denial  of  Peter,  appearances  after  the  Resurrection, 
and  sayings  of  Jesus  not  elsewhere  recorded.  As  a 
rule,  the  fragments  show  a  somewhat  closer  resem- 
blance to  Mt.  tlian  to  the  other  Synoptics,  but 
there  are  also  details  which  have  their  nearer 
parallels  in  Luke. 

the  Synoptics  are  in  several  cases  remark- 
point, 'in  the  opinion  of  many  scholars,  to 
an  earlier  and  more  reliable  tradition.  In  the  narrative  of  the 
Baptism,  Jesus,  in  answer  to  the  proposal  of  His  mother  and 
brethren  that  they  should  go  and  be  bajitized  by  John  for  the 
remission  of  sins,  says  :  '  In  what  have  1  sinned,  that  J  should  go 
and  be  baptized,  by  him?  Unless  perhaps  this  which  I  have 
said  be  itjnorance,' — an  utterance  which  is  generally  interpreted 
as  meaning  that  Jesus,  though  conscious  of  no  sin,  was  humble 
enough  not  to  make  the  claim  of  sinlessness.  (This  passage, 
regarded  by  some  as  primitive  and  authentic,  is  better  under- 
stood as  the  product  of  refie.\ion  at  a  time  when  Christ's  baptism 


GOSPELS  (APOCRYPHAL) 


GOSPELS  (APOCRYPHAL) 


Jirstbom  i 


)  reif;nei>t 

\  1  1  „s  to  the  narratne  of  the 

Tei  1      I     I  I  Just  rum  My  motltei,  the 

H  I  J  My  ham  and  bore  Me  anay  to 

th    /  —a  fantastic  description  on  the  model 

of  I  l)ia^on**6 

I    11     1  I     fourth  petition  runs     '  Give  vs  to-day 

ourt  i  Iitl     \iani'llc  ?nfl:ftar(  to  morrow') 

we  iua\  lia\t.  11  1         i  t       I     is  Himself    in  which  case 

iToi.<r«    tran  Ut    111  MIL       I  k  11'  would  1*  an  ad- 

jectival form    1  r       1  t  X  (the   foUomnj  dav).     On 

the  other  han  1  U  1    1  r  w  h  i  liehev  e  that  the  converse 

IS  the  caie  and  that  ii/aris  an  attempt  to  ^ive  the  meaning 
ofsT.^o-.  (Me\erinUenn  IS,  Haiulb  iit)  The  former  alter- 
natn  e  is  the  more  probable 

The  narntive  of  the  healing  on  the  Sabbath  of  the  man  with 
a  withered  hand  represents  the  man  as  appealmg  to  Jesus  on 
the  ground  that  he  was  a  mason  who  earned  his  bread  bv  work- 
ing with  his  hands, — a  detail  which  may  well  be  authentic. 

In  the  longest  fragment  of  the  Gospel  we  have  a  version  of 
Christ's  interview  with  the  Rich  Young  Ruler,  which  shows 
notable  differences  from  tlie  S\iioptic  arcnuiit.  Where  the 
Synoptists  speak  of  the  ihh  ni.ui'--  - ,  I,  ii-,..  of  his 
inability  to  accept  Christ's  trnii-,  t\     ■  I'l  to  the 

Hebrews,   in  \ivid  and   Imtinlv    I     .:  -    him  as 

showing  astonishment  and  ;i  l<'i!i     :   ■  n.)  began 

to  scratch  his  head,  and  /'    /-  '   /<  '  >>  m  reupon 

Jesus  rebuked  him  forcl:iih,   .^   i  I  iw,  when 

he  had  neglected  offices  nt  h I  i  i    i         i  !     --I'ffoio 

sayestthou,  I  havedoTU' tif  .  s  ,,,>■  it  is 

written  in  the  law,  Thou  ilnjself, 

and  behold,  many  of  thy  /^(  '/,,./(,  ''  ,,■  ■<  A'n- >}niiii,  are 
covered  withjilth  arid  are  dyiwj  with  htiwicr.  ichih'  thy  house  is 
fvU  of  -many  good  things,  and  nothing  at  all  goes  o^U  of  it  to 
them.'  H  this  account  is  k>  be  taken  as  genuine,  it  is  clear  that 
our  estimate  of  the  Rich  Young  Ruler's  character,  based  on  the 
Synoptic  tradition,  will  have  to  be  considerably  revised.  It  is, 
however,  more  probable  that  in  this  passage  we  have  a  mis- 
taken combination  of  the  story  of  the  Rich  Young  Ruler  with 
the  parable  of  Dives  and  Lazarus  related  by  Luke. 

After  the  Resurrection,  Jesus  is  represented  as  appearing ylrsi 
to  James,  to  release  him  from  a  vow  which  he  had  taken  at  the 
Last  Supper :  '  Jaines  had  sworn  that  he  would  not  eat  bread 
from  that  hour,  whxn  he  had  drunk  the  Lord's  cup,  until  lie 
should  see  Him  risen  from  those  that  are  asleep.'  This  is  an 
obviously  later  form  of  the  tratiition  of  Christ's  appearing  to 
James,  due  most  likely  to  the  desire  of  Jewish  Christians  to 
exalt  their  head  above  the  Apostles  of  Christ.  It  should  be 
noted  that  James  is  here  portrayed  as  one  of  Christ's  followers 
who  partook  of  the  Last  Supper,— an  unhistorical  detail.  There 
is  probably  a  confusion  between  Jaines  the  Just  and  James  the 
brother  of  John,  an  inference  borne  out  by  the  reference  to 
drinking  the  l/jrd's  cup  (ct.  Mt  -2022). 

Into  the  difficult  question  of  the  relation  of  the 
Gospel  according  to  the  Hebrexvs  to  the  Synoptics, 
it  is  impcssible  in  this  article  to  enter  with  any 
fulness.  That  it  is  closely  allied  to  them,  especi- 
ally to  Mt.,  is  clear  from  the  character  of  tlie  frag- 
ments. Three  difierent  solutions  of  the  problem 
have  been  suggested,  all  of  them  supported  by 
competent  authorities.  (1)  Hebrews  is  held  to  be 
the  original  Aramaic  Matthew  (Hilgenfeld),  or  an 
elaboration  of  it  (Zalin),  and  as  such,  the  ground- 
work of  our  canonical  Matthew.  This  view  is  now 
almost  universally  rejected.  (2)  Hebrews  is  held 
to  be  independent  of  the  Synoptics,  the  affinity 
being  explained  by  a  common  reliance  on  oral 
tradition.  This  view,  which  is  the  one  at  present 
most  widely  held,  is  strongly  supported  by  Harnack, 
who  goes  so  far  as  to  express  the  hope  {Ckron.  i. 
645)  that,  after  Zahn's  penetrating  discussion  of 
the  question,  no  one  will  have  the  hardihood  to 
repeat  the  statement  that  the  Gospel  iicrording  to 
the  Hebrews  is  based  on  one  or  more  canonical 
Gospels.  That  hope  has  not  been  realized.  For 
(3)  the  view  has  recently  been  confidently  advo- 
cated by  Wemle  [Si/non.  Fragc,  248  fl". )  that  'Hebreics 
is  dependent  on  all  the  Synoptics,  making  use  of 
Matthew,  and  in  some  cases  combining  the  accounts 
of  Matthew  and  Luke.    Meyer  (in  Henn.  1 8)  sujiports 


this  view,  and  strongly  emplia^izes  the  secondary 
character  of  the  Gospel.  In  this  jucl^iuent  the 
present  writer  is  disposed  to  concur.  It  appears 
t  )  him  thtt  ill  the  tacts  of  the  case  are  satisfac- 
t   iil\  1  \|  1   III    I   if  \\ e  hold  that  the  GoAyc^  accorrf- 

I  I     II     II  I     IIS  \\as  written  by  one  who  used 

II  iiK  i\  Mitllictt  (and  Luke),  and  built  up  his 
Uospel  on  the  basis  of  a  separate  tradition,  under 
the  influence  of  his  o\v  n  doctrinal  prepossessions. 

But  e\en  should  the  view  of  the  Gospel's  inde- 
pendence be  accepted,  this  does  not  necessarily 
imjily  that  in  it  we  are  face  to  face  with  an  earner, 
or  an  equally  early,  stage  of  the  primitive  tradi- 
tion. The  realistic  presentation,  the  fondness  for 
little  details,  the  quaint  and,  in  some  particulars, 
undiwriitied  language,  which  are  characteristic  of 
the  Gospel,  may  possibly  be  indications  that  in 
some  narratives  we  have  the  tradition  in  its  ori- 
ginal form  ;  on  the  other  hand,  these  features  may 
with  as  much  probability  be  due  to  later  manipu- 
lation by  popular  evangelists.  Details,  such  as 
Christ's  words  before  His  baptism,  \\\\'u-h  arc  Ijy 
some  regarded  as  primitive  on  the  ground  that 
they  are  of  such  a  character  that  they  could  not 
have  been  added  later,  are  believed  by  others  (in 
our  opinion  more  justly),  to  be  products  of  an  age 
of  reflexion.  Traces  of  a  later  age  than  that  of 
the  Synoptics  are  found  in  the  Resurrection  frag- 
ment :  there  is  the  unhistorical  detail  in  reference 
to  the  appearing  of  Christ  to  James,  and  the  later 
apologetic  interest  is  slio^\'n  in  securing  \vitness  for 
the  resurrection  from  the  enemies  of  Christ.  (After 
rising  from  the  dead,  Jesus  handed  the  linen  cloth 
to  the  servant  of  the  high  priest).  The  judgment 
is  warranted  that,  while  the  Gospel  accordmg  to 
the  Hebrews  probably  retains  in  some  points  the 
freshness  of  the  original  tradition,  it  contains  many 
elements  that  are  secondary,  and  that,  as  a  whole, 
it  represents  not  an  earlier,  but  a  somewhat  later 
stage  of  the  Gospel  tradition  than  the  Synoptics. 
A  date  towards  the  end  of  the  1st  cent,  is  probable. 

On  the  view  here  taken  of  the  Gospel  according 
to  the  Hebrews,  tlie  value  of  its  fragments  as  a 
source  of  the  life  of  Jesus  is  inconsiderable.  It 
cannot  justly  lay  claim  to  be  an  authority,  as 
Oscar  Holtzmann  regards  it,  on  the  same  level  as 
the  SynoiJtics.  Some  sayings,  however,  ascribed  to 
Christ  and  not  elsewhere  recorded,  have  a  genuine 
ring,  giving  us,  if  not  the  ipsissima  verba  of  Jesus, 
at  least  true  echoes  of  His  voice.  Christ  is  repre- 
sented as  saying  to  His  disciples  :  '  Never  be  glad, 
except  when  ye  look  upon  your  brother  in  love,' — a 
singularly  beautiful  precept  condemning  Schaden- 
freude, the  disposition  to  rejoice  in  another's  mis- 
fortune. The  Gospel  also  reported  a  saying  in 
which  it  was  reckoned  among  the  greatest  offences 
that  one  should  sadden  the  spirit  of  one's  brother. 
Another  striking  saying,  quoted  from  this  Gospel 
by  Clement  of  Alexandria  (Strom,  ii.  9.  45)  and 
accepted  by  many  as  substantially  a  genuine  utter- 
ance of  Jesus,  runs  as  follows :  '  He  that  wonders 
shall  reach  the  kingdom,  and  having  reached  the 
kingdom  shall  rest!'  In  another  passage  {Strom. 
V.  14.  96)  Clement  records  the  saying  in  a  longer 
form,  which  agrees  almost  verbally  with  one  of  the 
Oxyrhynchus  sayings :  '  He  who  seeks  shall  not 
cease  until  he  finds  ;  and  when  he  finds,  he  shall  be 
astonished,  and  being  astonished  he  shall  reach  the 
kingdom,  and  having  reached  the  kingdom  he  shall 
rest.' 

The  Ethical  teaching  of  the  Gospel,  from  all  that 
we  can  gather,  was  in  sympathy  with  the  mind  of 
Christ,  stress  being  laid  on  brotherly  love  and  for- 
giveness. Doctrinally,  the  Gospel  occupies  the 
position  of  the  old  Jewish  Church.  It  exhibits 
Jesus  as  '  the  Messiah  sent  from  God,  not  as  the 
Son  of  God  conceived  of  the  Holy  Ghost  in  a  special 
sense,  but  as  the  long  expected  jlessiah  of  David's 


GOSPELS  (APOCRYPHAL) 


race,  in  whom  proijliecy  liiuls  its  fullilment '  (Haiid- 
mann,  TU  v.  3,  p.  125). 

LiTBRATiiRE.— Hilgenfeld,  NT  extra  can.  receptum,  iv.  p.  Sfl. ; 
Nicholson,  Gospei  according  to  the  Hebrews;  Handmann,  *Das 
Hebraer-evangeliuni '  (Z'Cr  v.  3) ;  Zahn,  Gesch.  d.  JUT  Kanons, 
ii.  642  £f.  ;  Harnack,  Gesch.  d.  altchr.  Litt.  i.  Bff.,  ClirmiologU,  i. 
B31fl.  ;  Hennecke,  JV2'  Apokr.  Hfl.,  Ilandb.  21ff.  ;  Menzies  in 
Hastings'  DB,  Ext.  Vol.  338  ff.;  Adeney  in  Hibbert  Journal, 
Oct.  1904. 

A.  2.  Gospel  according  to  the  Egyptians. — This 
Gospel,  whose  ancient  diitr  may  Ije  inferred  from 
the  fact  that,  like  thy  iln.y.ri  ,irr„rding  to  the 
Hebrews,  it  bears  no  autlior's  name,  was  current  in 
native  Christian  circles  in  Egypt.  Our  information 
regarding  it  is  very  slight :  it  is  mentioned  by 
Origen  in  his  discussion  of  the  prologue  in  Luke's 
Gospel,  and  characterized  by  him,  apparently  on 
the  ground  of  his  own  knowledge  of  it,  as  a  he- 
retical writing  ('  Ecclesia  quattuor  evangelia  habet, 
hsereses  plurima,  e  quibus  quoddam  sciibitur 
"secundum  ^Egyptios"'  —  tr.  by  Jerome).  All 
that  can  with  certainty  be  said  to  remain  of  the 
Gospel  is  a  small  ,i;roup  of  sayings,  recorded  by 
Clement  of  Alexandria  m  treating  of  the  attitude 
of  diU'erent  Christian  communities  to  marriage. 
References  to  the  Gospel  are  also  found  in  Hip- 
polytus  (Philos.  v.  7),  who  states  that  it  was  used 
by  the  sect  of  the  Naassenes  to  suijport  their 
peculiar  views  about  the  nature  of  the  soul,  and 
in  Epiphanius  (Hwr.  62.  2),  who  mentions  its  use 
by  the  Sabellians. 

The  fragments  which  remain  are  part  of  a  con- 
versation between  Jesus  and  Salome,  and  are  all 
of  the  same  character,  dealing  with  the  transient 
(if  not  sinful)  nature  of  the  sex  relations.  They 
read  as  follows : 

1.  '  Salome  asked,  "  How  long  shall  death  reign  ! "  The 
Lord  answered,  "So  long  as  ye  women  give  birth."  When 
Salome  had  said,  "  Then  should  I  have  done  well,  if  1  had  not 
given  birth?"  the  Lord  answered,  " Ent  everi/  plant,  but  that 
which  is  bitter,  cat  ?i-r  " '  fC]m    Vr--:.  Strom,  iii.  6.  45). 

2.  *  When  Salome  immup-'I    .1 hi^^e  things  [the  coming  of 

the  Kingdom]  shnnifi  ■  i  u-I,  "  When  i/e  trample  on 

the  garinent  ofs/m.'  'wo  become  one,  and  tfie 

mate  with  the  ,fc in  11  ,  . m. r  ftmafe  "' (Clem.  Alex. 

Strom,  iii.  13.  92). 

3.  'The  .Saviour     .1        / 
female"'  (Clem.  ,\|. 


'-■^troy  the  works  of  the 


ither 


however,  rejects  No.  :;  as  not  Ii.iviti^-  stoml  in  tli, 
inp  to  the  Egyptians.  If  the  third  sa\  in-  1  n  i  m  i 
tamly  arguable  that  the  first  two  do  nm  ■■■•  nm 
ascetic  direction  than  Mt  2250  ('  In  the  r.sni  n  ,  1 1 
marry  nor  are  given  in  marriage,  hnl  ir  ,.-  il:.  uj-ls  in 
heaven').  This  view  finds  some  supp.  .i  i  i'  i  i  ;  '  <ifa 
Gospel  discovered  at  Oxyrh^mcus  in  pi"'  "  ■  i'  '!  '  ■!  IPnti, 
New  Sayings,  44).    That  Cassian,  tin    i  !   i      .    ih 

Encratites,  from  whom  Clement  quotec  I  1 1 1  li-ni 

to  support  his  ascetic  condemnation  of  ni:-r. ;  ■ .  ,  i  n-  i  ^l^r  i-:i\  r. 
It  is  noteworthy  that  Clement  rejected  i.  as^iaii  s  interpretation, 
and  understood  the  sayings  in  a  mystical  sense.  If,  however, 
the  Encratite  sense  of"  the  words  be  maintained,  Harnack  is 
certainly  justified  by  Clement's  attitude  in  concluding  that 
'  Encratism  cannot  have  been  the  aim  of  the  Gospel,  in  fact 
cannot  have  been  stamped  upon  it  as  its  characlrri  li.   f.^liur 

but  that  probably  only  this  one  passage  occurrcl  ■ ' 

could  be  adduced  m  favour  of  the  extreme  asc  i  1 1      i  i  .   n  , 
(CAron.  i.  616).    That  the  Gospel  contained  iiuieli  ■  I 
entirely-  free  from  suspicion  of  heresy  is  ninli:ii.l'        n  I    :i 


while  others,  with  considerable  divergences,  are  : 
acter.  On  the  assumption,  which  is  i>ossibIe  th 
of  proof,  that  2iid  Clenierit  drew  llie  sa\  iM'.,'s  of  . 


will  the 
the  out- 
male  no 


III;-  been  asked  by  some  one.  When 
!.  When  the  two  shall  be  one,  and 
1  the  male  with  the  female,  neither 


GOSPELS  (APOCKYPHAL) 


and  containing  in  some  instances  savings  in  a  form  even  more 
original  than  they  (Chron.  i.  610  f.).  One  must  confess  that  so 
extremely  favourable  a  judgment,  reared  on  a  somewhat  un- 
certain basis,  does  not  inspire  entire  confidence  when  over 
against  it  one  places  Origen's  view  of  the  Gospel  as  heretical 
and  its  use  by  the  Naassenes  and  Sabellians.  While  it  may  be 
allowed  that  there  were  probably  passages  in  the  Gospel  which 
ranked  it  with  the  Synoptics,  it  seems  clear  that  it  showed 
affinities  with  the  speculative  teaching  of  Gnostic  schools.  It 
contained  references  to  '  manifold  changes '  of  the  soul  which 
were  relied  on  by  the  Naassene  sect  in  building  up  their  system 
of  thought ;  and  Epiphanius  in  refuting  the  heresy  of  the  Sabel- 
lians, who  made  use  of  the  Gospel  according  to  the  Egyptian.<i, 
declared  that  '  there  were  in  it  many  things  put  into  the  mouth 
of  the  Saviour,  and  s.aid  as  in  a  corner  ni\  stica,lly,  such  as  His 
declaration  to  the  disciples  that  the  Father,  the'  Son,  and  the 
Holy  Spirit  were  one  and  the  same '  (Hier.  62.  2). 

With  so  little  to  rest  a  confident  judgment  on, 
it  is  extremely  difficult  to  characterize  this  Gospel, 
but  it  may  be  near  tlie  trutli  to  say  that  it  was  a 
Gospel  of  tlie  Synoptic  type  with  a  slight  Gnostic 
colouring.  * 

The  disposition  to  refer  to  this  Gospel  isolated 
fragments  and  utterances  of  Jesus,  such  as  the 
Faywm  Fragment  and  the  Oxyrhyneus  Sayings,  is 
extremely  hazardous.  All  that  can  with  certainty 
be  said  is  that  some  of  the  recently  discovered  say- 
ings '  belong  to  the  same  sphere  of  thought '  as  the 
Gospel.  Further  than  that  it  is  impossible  to  go 
(see  Grenfell  and  Hunt,  New  Sayings,  27  fl'.). 

The  date  of  the  Gospel  is  about  the  middle  of  the 
2nd  cent.,  probably  between  1.30  and  150. 

LiTERATURE.—Hilgenfeld,  AT  extra  can.  iv.  42 ff.;  Harnack, 
Gesch.  d.  altchr.  Litt.  i  12 ff.,  Chrmi.  i.  61211.;  Zahn,  NT  Kan. 
ii.  628  ff.;  Volter,  Petrusevangelium  Oder  Aegypterevangelium, 
1893  ;  Schneckenburger,  Ueber  das  Evangelinm  der  Aegypter, 
1834;  Hennecke,  NT  Apokr.  21  ff.,  Handb.  38 ff.;  Tasker,  I.e. 
423  ff. 

A.  3.  Gospel  of  Peter.  —  In  his  enumeration  of 
Petrine  writings,  Eusebius  mentions  {HE  iii.  3)  a 
Gospel  which,  along  with  the  Acts,  Preaching  and 
Apocalypse  of  Peter,  he  declares  to  be  spurious,  and 
not  considered  authoritative  by  any  ecclesiastical 
writer.  Until  fourteen  years  ai;(.,  i.ui  kmiwledge 
of  the  contents  of  the  Gospel  was  <■!'  I  lie  scantiest 
description,  being  based  on  a  sljelii  leliMeiiee  by 
Origen,  on  a  letter  by  Serapicm,  IhsIk.]!  c,f  Aiitiocli 
(end  of  2nd  cent.),  and  on  a  jiassage  in  Theodoret, 
now  generally  discredited,  which  states  that  the 
Nazarenes,  who  honoured  Christ  as  a  just  man, 
used  the  Gospel  according  to  Peter  (Hmr.  Fabb. 
ii.  2).  Origen's  reference  (Com.  in  Matt.  bk.  x. 
17)  teUs  us  nothing  more  than  that  those  who  be- 
lieved the  brethren  of  Jesus  to  be  the  sons  of 
Josejih  by  a  former  wife  relied  on  the  Gospel  of 
I'i'trr  ami  the  Book  of  James  ;  from  which  we  infer 
tli.il  ilir  Cuspel  contained  the  narrative  of  the 
\  ir-in  liiith.  From  Serapion's  letter  (part  of  it 
piesei\ eil  in  Euseb.  HE  vi.  12),  which  was  written 
to  the  Church  in  Rhoasus  in  the  diocese  of  Antioch, 
we  gather  the  following  facts  about  the  Gospel. 
When  on  a  visit  to  Rhossus,  Serapion  had  the 
( iospel  brought  under  his  notice,  as  teing  the 
'leasion  of  some  ill-feeling  in  the  Church.  Not 
iispecting  any  heretical  leanings  on  the  part  of 
ill  ISO  who  were  favourable  to  the  Gospel,  the 
liisli(.|i,  wilhout  .any  eaieful  examination  of  its 
■  •laileiiN.  ,-,iu;jlii  Id  (.,i:i  lili-h  peace  by  authorizing 
il  111  lie  ir.i.l.  Il,i\iie:  I.  1 1  lied  afterwards  that  the 
(e.,].el  had  iiii'jinalecl  aiiieiif;'  tlie  Docetie,  lie  pro- 
cured a  cdjiy  (rum  some  members  of  that  party, 
and  found  that,  while  it  contained  much  true  teach- 
ing, there  were  additions  of  a  questionable  char- 
acter, to  which  he  proceeded  to  call  attention. 
Until  recently  this  was  all  that  was  known  of  the 
Gospel  of  Peter  ;  not  a  single  fragment  had  been 
handed  down  ;  one  could  only  gather  that  it  was  a 

•  V.ih  hi  I,'  I'l.  iirchr.  Gemeinden,  190)  finds  in  the 
On.^p,  I  .lie  idea  of  the  subversion  of  all  ordi- 

iiai\  - 1    ,    ;   .  i  ,  irom  which  *  it  is  only  a  short  8tep  Ui 

the  pet.:  I  .  iiieal  conceptions.'    This  view  is  justly 

opposeil  li\  /.iliii  i,.\  /■  Kan.  ii.  640). 


678   GOSPELS  (APOCRYPHAL) 


GOSPELS  (APOCRYPHAL) 


Uospel  with  a  slight  Docetic  colouring,  but  for  the 
most  part  entirely  orthodox. 

Of  this  long  lost  Gospel  we  have  now  a  fragment 
of  considerable  length  dealing  with  the  Passion  and 
Resurrection  of  Clirist.  The  fragment  was  found 
in  the  winter  of  1SS6-I887  at  Akhmim,  in  Upper 
Egypt,  by  the  Frencli  Archaeological  Mission,  and 
was  published  by  M.  Bouriant  in  1892.  The  narra- 
tive claims  to  be  the  personal  witness  of  the  Apostle 
Peter,  and  reveals  the  Docetic  tendency  referred 
to  by  Serapion.  The  fragment  begins  at  the  end 
of  the  judgment-scene,  after  Pilate  had  washed  his 
hands,  and  ends  in  the  middle  of  a  sentence,  which 
introduces  the  narrative  describing  the  appearance 
of  Christ  to  His  disciples  at  the  Sea  of  Galilee. 
The  nature  of  the  contents  can  here  only  be  indi- 
cated. 

Herod  is  reffarded  as  the  real  judge  of  Christ ;  throughout, 
there  is  the  evident  intention  to  exculpate  Pilate,  who  washed 
his  hands,  while  Herod  refused.  It  is  Herod  who  gives  the 
order  for  the  crucifixion,  and  his  permission  is  required  for  the 
disposal  of  the  body  of  Jesus.  When  Jesus  was  handed  over  to 
the  people,  it  is  stated  that  '  theij  clothed  Hi 

King  of  l--:ra.-l  •  -     (1,;  th. 


othcd  Him  with  purple  and 
ii/ing,  Jndfie  riijhtmvshj.  O 


'  II  ;• 


om  the  blood  of 
kvish  authorities 
tell  nothing  of 
'r  us  to  be  guilty 


The  fragment 


over  the  land,  the  narrative  runs:  'And  the  Lnrd  cried  out, 
saying^  My  power.  My  power,  thou  hast  forsaken  Me.  And 
when  Be  had  said  this.  He  was  taken  up.'  After  the  death  of 
Christ  the  Jews  bef,'aTi  to  feel  i-oinpuiiction  for  what  they  had 
done;  they  'begirn  '■•  >-nn--n'  r,„'i  >■■  -,<■■,  w-~  f^^r  our  sins ;  the 
jtulgment  and  th,'  ,  ,i./  -i  ./■,■■■  ..r',  >,:  ..,  n..,),.  .  .  .  All  the 
people  murmur,:!  ,■         ,  ;,„,,  If  by  Bis 

death  those  most  ,/,   behold,   how 

righteous  Be  is.'  't'v  i.m  n  ,  i:  h.  .i  h  !. -,  having  received 
soldiers  from  Pilau,  l.j  [,'u.ii.l  lut-  luml,  .(...  llu-ee  dnj/s,' them- 
selves took  part  in  the  watch.  Tlie  Kesurrection  is  described 
with  many  miraculous  details ;  there  is  a  voice  from  heaven ; 
two  men,  encircled  bv  a  great  light,  descend  and  enter  the 
tomb,  from  whicli   the  stone   nilN   awav   of    iHelf.      Then    tli; 

watchers  'see  thi;;-  ■' f'"";-  f..,;ih_  ii.-  t,,-.,   ■-,,,, 

porting  the  one,, I,  ■  •;     „     -.  .  /  ,i.     ;.    .  '      , 

the  two  reached  ,r 

overtopped  the  h, 

sailing,  BcLst  th,'u  .  ,       .i ,--/,,,   ,,„,,/ 

all  that  had  haiij.^  :.!!,/. 

the  Son  of  God. '     II     /  .     .   :    ,  ,     ,  | 

to  command  the  '' 1 1 ;  1 1     u    ,! 

what  they  had  so.  n 

of  the  greatest  sin  '    ■        '      '   '■ 

people  of  the  Jcir<  ., 

deals  with  the  visit  ,     'i         j       • 

sepulchre,  and  witli  '        _(     ■ 

and  were  grieved  ;  ,i,i'i  ,,,•>'  -  ,  ■  /  ,;, ,  - , ,/  /,>,■  that  ]rl,,'',-h 
jvascome  to  pais. ,!,  j,,,!,  ■<  '>■  /'.  -  ;.,....  /;../  /",  sim,,,,  l',t.r. 
and  Andrew  mt/  '"','i"  '.  '""'.  '■,,,  ■,•'-■  ,,,,,!  ir,',,t  i,,  th,-  v,i'- 
0)id  there  was'wilh  ,,s  L, ,  i ,  it,.-  .,  ,,i  .i/,,;,,„„,  ,i:i,,„„  th',- 
hard  .  .  : 

The  writer's  peculiar  point  of  view  is  clear  from 
the  quotations  which  liave  been  given.  (1)  The 
most  noticeable  feature  of  the  Gospel  is  its  pro- 
nounced apologetic  interest,  shown  in  its  friendli- 
ness to  Pilate  and  its  antipathy  to  the  Jews.  Pilate 
is  freed  from  all  blame  in  the  death  of  Christ,  Herod 
being  the  responsible  judge  ;  Joseph,  who  cared  for 
the  body  of  Jesus,  is  'the  friend  of  Pilate.'  Pilate, 
too,  is  represented  a-s  acknowlcclj,'i7i;;  the  Divine 
dignity  of  Jesus.  On  the  olhcr  litiml,  the  Jews 
acknowledge  their  sin  in  jiutting  .Icsus  to  deiitli, 
and  confess  Him  to  have  been  a  just  man.  Tli. 
writer's  fierce  hatred  of  the  Jews  is  betr.aye.l  ii 
the  utterance  ascribed  to  the  Jewisli  .authoriti. 
that  they  would  rather  be  guilty  of  the  great. -i 
las  a  similar  statement.  'Tlic\ 
,   ^      ,  ,    „^  .  the   judgment- seat,   and   said, 

Judge  for  us.'  The  correspoiuhng  pass.age  in  St.  .Inhn's  Gospel 
(19")  reads:   'When  Pilate,  fheretovo.  hear.l  tli.s.,  ,v„r,ls.  he 

brought  Je-sus  out  and  sat  it;,,,,,  ti,-  ,,,,!., ,„..,.t *•(...    ;    ,  f.,^,„ 

it;  /3Ki«ei«.-).     It  is,  however,  1,      ■    ,1  ii.    |..  \,  ,.,     ,.,  ,,-„  in 

the  transitive  sense,  .so  th.at  11 -        mM  i  ii.     .i,t 

Jesus  out  and  set  Him  on  th.      iL-i,..  1  ,  -."in 

.St.  John,  understood  in  this  -,   ,-,  ,       ,  t    i.il       .  .   ,   i,-,,,,, 


sin  than  fall  into  the  hands  of  men.  (2)  The 
Docetic  sympathies  of  the  writer,  which  are  some- 
what guarded,  are  revealed  in  the  statement  that 
Jesus  kept  silence  on  the  cross,  '  as  in  no  wise 
feeling  pain ' ;  in  the  cry  of  dereliction,  which 
points  to  a  distinction  between  the  impassible 
Divine  Power  residing  in  Jesus  and  His  passible 
human  nature ;  in  the  representation  of  Christ's 
death  as  a  being  taken  up.  That  tlie  Docetism 
was  not  of  an  extreme  type  is  shown  by  the  fact 
that  the  dead  Christ  is  referred  to  as  '  the  Lord.' 
Gnostic  influences  are  discernible  in  tlie  .sjieaking 
of  the  cross,  and  in  the  supernatural  height  of 
Jesus  and  the  angels. 

The  Gospel  is  of  the  Synoptic  type.  It  has  close 
linguistic  and  material  relations  with  the  Synop- 
tics, although  there  are  many  deviations  in  order 
and  detail.  There  is  a  considerable  probability 
that  the  author  knew  and  made  use  of  all  our 
canonical  Gospels,  which  he  treated  with  great 
freedom,  embellishing  the  narrative  in  the  interest 
of  his  own  point  of  view,  and  making  additions 
of  a  legendary  and  highly  miraculous  character. 
That  he  had  an  independent  tradition  at  his  com- 
mand is  possible,  and  even  probable  (?  ancient  Acts 
'•f  Pilate) ;  but  whether  tliat  be  so  or  not,  his 
(iiiisjjel  acids  nothing  to  our  knowledge  of  the  life 
of  Christ.  '  It  ajjpears  to  be  a  fair  example  of 
what  may  be  called  the  second  generation  of  non- 
canonical  narratives,  which  are  based  upon  the 
earlier  and  authentic  records,  and  do  not  yet 
depart  very  ^ridely  from  them,  though  they  may 
have  special  tendencies  in  various  doctrinal  direc- 
tions '  (Kenyon,  Gospels  in  the  Earlij  Ckitrch,  34). 

The  date  of  the  Gospel  is  about  the  middle  of 
the  2nd  cent.,  althougli  some  critics  put  it  con- 
siderably earlier.  Its  place  of  origin  was  almost 
certainly  Sj^ria. 

T,TTTT\TiTr.     n--^nrinnt.   If.  ;;t-7>,-- 77'/';';.- •  r-nr  l-^  mi'mhres  de 


Gospel  I-/  St.  J',  lei- ;  also  editions  by  lieiidel  Harris,  the  author 
of  Supernatural  tteliffion,  Eutherford  (extra  volume  of  Ante 
Nicene  Library);  Stiilcken  in  Hennecke,  XT  Apokr.  27 S., 
Bandb.  72  IT.  ;  and  numerous  magazine  articles. 

A.  4.  Fayflm  Gospel  Fragment.— A  number  of 
papyri  were,  in  the  year  1882,  brouglit  from  Faytini, 
a  province  in  Central  Egypt,  to  Vienna,  by  the 
Archduke  Rainer.  Among  these,  Dr.  Bickell  of 
linisltriick  discovered  a  small  Gospel  fragment, 
dialiiij,'  with  the  incident  in  wliich  Jesus  foretold 
the  dtnitil  of  Peter.  The  fragment,  which  is  badly 
mutilated,  was  published  in  1885  by  Bickell,  wlio 
confidently  maintained  that  it  w,as  a  part  of  a  very 
ancient  lost  Gospel,  of  the  class  referred  to  in  Lk  1'. 
Tlie  contents  of  the  fragment  closely  resemble  the 
Synoptic  narrative  (Mk  U^'-a.so^  'Mt  26»'- s^- »•), 
with  the  omission  of  the  verse  containing  Christ's 
promise  to  go  before  His  disciples  into  Galilee  after 
rising  fi'om  the  dead.  Owing  to  the  condition  of 
the  papyrus,  the  text,  especially  at  the  beginning 
of  the  fragment,  is  very  uncertain  ;  but,  according 
to  the  reconstruction  of  Zalin  [NT  Kan.  ii.  785), 
the  tran.sIatiHi,  is  tis  follows: 


111  ill,,  document  to  which  the  frag- 

miiii  .!;:!'  I"  longed  is  altogether  uncertain. 
Bilk.  11-  ..111111..11.  tli;it  it  is  a  part  of  a  Gospel  of 
higli  :uiticiaitv,  li.is  received  the  support  of  Har- 
nack,  who  inclines  to  regard  it  as  an  excerpt  from 
either  the  Gospel  acrordinq  to  the  Hrhrrii-s  or  the 
Gospel  according  to  the  Egi/ptinns  {TU  v.  4.  40311"., 
Chrun.  i.  590).     On  the  other  hand,  Zalin  believes 


GOSPELS  (APOCRYPHAL) 


GOSPELS  (APOCRYPHAL)   679 


it  to  be  an  extract  from  a  Patristic  writing,  a  free 
quotation  from  Mark  made  by  a  preaclier  or  by  the 
writer  of  a  book  for  edification.  Tliis  would  satis- 
factorily account  for  tlie  omission  of  Mk  14^  (Mt 
26'-).  Tliat  the  fragment  probably  belonged  to  a 
writing  of  tliis  kind  is  furtlier  borne  out  by  two 
striking  deviations  from  the  Synoptic  pliraseology. 
Instead  of  d\4fiTup  (cock)  the  fragment  has  the 
more  classical  aXeKTpvuif ;  instead  of  the  colour- 
less (puvetv  (crow)  it  has  the  more  descriptive  word 
KOKKii^iv.  '  The  probability  is  that  the  canonical 
expression  is  the  original,  which  a  preacher  re- 
placed in  the  one  case  by  a  more  elegant  word, 
in  the  other  by  one  more  signiiicant'  (Zahn,  NT 
Kan.  ii.  788).  Hennecke  (NT  Apolcr.  9)  thinks 
it  possible  that  the  fragment  may  have  been  a  part 
of  a  collection  of  sayings,  but  subscribes  to  Kriiger's 
judgment,  that '  the  possibility  is  not  excluded  that 
the  fragment  merely  represents  an  e.xtract  from 
one  of  our  Gospels,  or  belonged  to  a  Gospel  har- 
mony, perhaps  even  is  drawn  from  a  homily,  and 
that  one  is  not  justified  in  drawing  far-reaching 
conclusions  from  it.' 

LiTERATUKE.  —  Bipkell  in  Zeitschrift  fiir  Kathol.  Theologie, 
1886,  iii.  498  if.  ;  Harnack,  Zahn,  Hennecke  (in  opp-  «(.). 

A.  5.  Oxyrhyncus    Gospel    Fragment.  —  In  the 

year  1903  Messrs.  Grenfell  and  Hunt  discovered 
at  Behnesa,  the  ancient  Oxyrhyncus,  in  Central 
Egypt,  a  small  portion  of  a  Gospel  containing  the 
conclusion  of  a  discourse  by  Jesus  similar  to  a 
part  of  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount.  This  they 
published,  alon"  with  a  second  collection  of  '  Say- 
ings,' in  the  following  year.  Tlie  papyrus  is  in 
a  very  broken  state,  only  a  small  part  of  that 
which  it  originally  contained  being  decipherable. 
From  the  handwriting  the  discoverers  adjudge  the 
fragment  to  have  been  written  not  later  than  A.D. 
250,  although  the  original  composition  was  much 
earlier. 

The  translation  of  the  fragment,  slightly  altered 
from  that  given  by  Grenfell  and  Hunt  (New  Sayings, 
40),  is  as  follows  : 

'  [Take  nn  thovght]frnm  wnminfj  inih'f  rven,  nor  from  eveninrj 
until  momuirj,  either   for  ynvr   fninl    irhat  i/r  nhall  eat.  or   for 

hlieswhieli   ,,,;,w  ln,l     ,„„    „'.l        lf,t:,ni    '..'.'    .ian,„'„l.   irh.il   ,1., 

ye[lack;\  .' .  .  II  A. i  ,.,iii,i  ,„/,/  i.,  n.,,,    j,,i„r,''    ii,-   ii,„:,.''i 


8aid,''l 
ielees. 


He 


ye,  be  !/.'••     -.        ;:    ,      ,,,,,,,,         ,    ,■ 

The  sayings  here  giviMi  arc.  tor  tlie  most  part, 
parallel  to  passages  found  in  Matthew  and  Luke, 
in  a  form  generally  somewhat  shorter  than  the 
canonical  version.  Christ's  answer  to  the  question 
of  the  disciples  as  to  when  He  should  manifest 
Himself,  'Wlien  ye  shall  be  stripped  and  not  be 
ashamed  .  .  .,'  recalls  the  saying  reported  in  the 
Gospel  according  to  the  Egi/ptians :  '  When  ye 
trample  upon  the  garment  of  shame,'  etc.,  and 
suggests  the  conclusion  that  the  fragment  stood  in 
intimate  relation  with  that  Gospel.  The  simpler 
form  of  the  saying  in  the  fragment,  and  the  more 
direct  allusion  to  Gn  .3',  point  to  an  earlier  date 
than  that  of  the  version  in  the  Gospel  according 
to  the  Egyptians.  Though  it  is  possible  that  the 
fragment  represents  a  tradition  independent  of  the 
Synoptics,  it  is  more  probable  that  tlie  Gospel  to 
which  it  belonged  worked  \i])  the  material  found 
in  Matthew  and  Luke  into  new  (•oiiil.inations,  and 
added  matter  drawn  from  otlici-  suhichs. 

The  date  of  the  Gospi^l  \vas  | nuL.i I .ly  somewhat 
earlier  than  the  middle  of  the  2ih1  cintiiry. 

B.  Heretical  and  (i.\<jsT/r  i;<>sj'els. —Only 
a  few  of  the  more  important  Gnostic  Gospels  are 
referred  to  in  this  article.  Many  are  known  to  us 
by  name  merely,  or  by  some  indication  of  the 
circles  in  which  they  were  current.    Although  the 


Gnostics  repudiated  the  canonical  Apostolic  writ- 
ings, they  sought  in  many  instances  to  secure 
authority  for  their  Gospels'by  attributing  them  to 
Apostles  or  to  others  well  known  in  Apostolic  times. 
Besides  those  mentioned  below,  there  were  Gospels 
of  Matthias,  of  Bartholomeiv,  of  A  ndreiv,  of  Barna- 
bas ;  and  even  the  name  of  Judas  Iscariot  was 
associated  with  the  authorship  of  the  GospeL 
Gnostic  Gospels  sometimes  bore  the  name  of  the 
founder  of  the  school  (Valentinus,  Basilides,  Cerin- 
thus),  but  in  these  cases  the  writer  of  the  Gospel 
claimed  to  have  received  his  information  from  some 
Apostle  or  follower  of  an  Apostle.  OT  names  were 
also  attached  to  some  Gospels  ;  Epiphanius  (Hcer. 
26.  2)  refers  to  a  Gospel  of  En-.  For  whatever 
knowledge  we  have  (jf  these  Giisjjels,  readers  are 
referred  to  Hofmann's  article  (PllE^  i.  661ft'.)  or 
to  Tasker's  article  (I.e.  437  f.). 

B.  1.  Gospel  of  Marcion.— Shortly  before  the 
middle  of  the  2nd  cent. ,  Marcion,  a  native  of  Pontus, 
settled  in  Komo,  whore  he  dovoted  liimsolf  to  the 
work  of  purifying;  the  ('lunrli  fidin  .ill  .Icwish  in- 
fluences.     Till-    UlHlrrlyili;^    |ililiri|,lc   nl    lii-    system 

tween  the  (iod  of  the  (JT  and  tlie  tiod  i7t  the  NT. 
Only  in  Christ  was  the  true  God  made  known. 
He,  accordingly,  rejected  the  OT,  and  prepared  for 
the  Churches  which  he  founded  a  canon  of  NT 
writings,  divided  into  '  the  (iosjiel '  and  '  the 
Apostle.'  The  original  Apostles,  he  maint-ained, 
had  misunderstood  the  teaching  of  Christ;  only 
Paul  had  grasped  the  true  significance  of  the 
gospel.  Into  his  canon  he  admitteil  ten  Epistles  of 
Paul,  largely  expurgated,  and  one  Gospel,  which 
he  claimed  to  be  the  Pauline  Gospel  (rb  tvayyiXibv 
fiov,  Ro  2"').  This  Gospel,  according  to  the  testi- 
mony of  early  Church  writers,  was  the  Gospel  of 
Luke,  from  which  great  omissions  had  been  made 
to  free  it  from  all  Jewish  colouring.  All  citations 
from  the  OT  were  cut  out,  and  everything  else 
which  looked  with  favour  on  the  Jews.  From  the 
quotations  given  by  Tertullian,  Epiphanius,  and 
others,  it  is  possible  to  reconstruct  Marcion's 
Oosjiel.  The  wh..le  of  the  Inf.'i.icv  nnrrntive,  the 
l!:il.tisni,:iiiil  tlic'rriii|it.-ili..ii  \M'r,' .'.iiiil  f  iM.  iiiithing 
nf  llii'  iir^i    tliii'i'  cliiiiitci-   HI    l.iikr  Itiii'j  ict.ained 

Jesus  comineiices  with  4'^,  and  troiii  tliat  point  to 
the  end  of  the  Gospel  larger  or  smaller  portions 
are  excised,  amounting  in  all  to  over  120  verses. 
Among  the  passages  excluded  are  the  parables  of 
the  Prodigal  Son  and  of  tlic  >vi,kr,l  Husbandmen. 
In  all,  including  the  onlis^i(.ll.■.  ..i  thf  liist  three 
chajiters  and  ji.irt  c,f  Ihe  Imiitli,  nm'  liiid  that 
Marcion's  (Jospel  was  shorter  tliaii  Luke's  by  fully 
300  verses. 

Against  all  Patristic  testimony  some  critics 
(Semler  and  Eichhorn  in  the  18th  cent.,  Baur, 
Ritschl,  and  Schwegler  in  the  19th)  maintjiined  the 
priority  of  Marcions  (iospel  to  that  of  Luke.  The 
traditional  view  was,  Iiowcmt.  m.  ciiiiiplutcly  vindi- 
cated by  HilgenlcM  and  X.dkiuar.  tl.al  Eitschl 
retracted.  In  our  own  ciiniiliy,  mhiicm  hat  later, 
the  battle  was  refonulil,  wiili  I  lie  same  result. 
The  author  of  Sitpcnin/iirn/  /.'■/ii/iuii  revived  the 
theory  of  Marcion's  oiii^inalily,  ami  called  forth  a 
reply  by  Dr.  Sanday  {Guijn/.s  In  the  Second  Century, 
ch.  viii.),  in  which  he  conclusively  proved,  to  the 
satisfaction  of  his  opponent,  that  Luke's  Gospel 
was  from  one  hand,  the  same  characteristics  of 
style  being  evident  in  Marcion's  Gospel  and  in  the 
sections  of  Luke  not  found  in  it. 

Where  the  text  of  Marcion  differs  from  Luke, 
there  is  evidence  in  some  cases  to  show  that  the 
variance  is  due,  not  to  any  arbitrary  change  made 
by  Marcion  in  the  interest  of  his  peculiar  views, 
but  to  the  copy  of  the  Third  Gospel  which  lay 
before  him.     The  readings  of  Marcion  thus  de- 


680   G0SPP:LS  (APOCRYPHAL) 


GOSPELS  (APOCRYPHAL) 


serve  consideration  in  the  study  of  Textual  Criti- 
cism. 

LiTERATUEK.— Zahn,  AT  Kan.  i.  674  ff.,  ii.  409  ff.;  Sanday, 
G<ispeLi  in  the  Second  Century,  ch.  viii.,  art,  *Luke,  Gospel  oi' 
(Hastings'  DB  iii.  lUSf.);  Salmon,  Introd.  to  ST,  186  9. ;  West- 
cott,  Canon  oj  ST,  314  If. 

B.  2.  Gospel  of  the  Twelve  Apostles. — Anions; 
the  heretical  attempts  to  write  the  liistory  of 
Jesus,  Origen  in  liLs  Humily  on  Lk  I'"'-  mentions 
'  the  Gospel  of  the  Twelve  Apostles '  {to  itriyeypati- 
Hivov  tQi>  SuideKo.  eiayyiXiov).  That  this  Gospel  is 
the  same  as  one  which  Epiphanius  {ffmr.  30.  3) 
describes  as  '  The  Gospel  according  to  Matthew '  in 
use  among  the  Gnostic  Ebionites,  is  clear  from  the 
fact  that  in  the  opening  passage  quoted  by  Epi- 
phanius we  liave  the  call  of  the  twelve  Apostles,  of 
whom  Matthew  is  specially  addressed  ('and  thee, 
Mattliew,  I  called,  while  thou  wast  sitting  at  the 
seat  of  custom').  Epiphanius  further  states  that 
the  Ebionites  called  their  Gospel  '  The  Gospel  ac- 
cording to  the  Hebrews,'  a  reference  which  may 
rest  on  a  confusion  on  the  part  of  Epiphanius  (as 
Harnack  thinks),  but  more  probably  is  quite  accu- 
rate. Nothing  seems  more  likely  than  that  the 
Gnostic  Jewish-Christian  sect,  acquainted  with  the 
tradition  that  Matthew  wrote  his  Gospel  in  Hebrew, 
should  have  claimed  that  their  Gospel  was  the 
Gospel  of  Matthew,  and,  accordingly,  the 
!  Hebrew  Gospel  (Hennecke,  NT  Apokr.  24).  If 
this  be  so,  we  liave  an  explanation  of  tlie  error  into 
whicli  Jerome  fell  when  he  identified  the  Gospel 
according  to  the  Hebrews  \fith  the  Gospel  'accord- 
ing to  the  Apostks'  in  use  among  the  Nazarenes 
(c.  Pelag.  iii.  2).  That  these  two  Gospels  were 
entirely  different  is  apparent  from  the  widely 
divergent  accounts  of  the  Baptism, — the  one  inci- 
dent, common  to  both,  described  in  their  extant 
fragments. 


the  ki.i 


the  Gospel  of  the  Ebionites  is  found  in 


vary  only  very  sli,i,'li!;;    ;r - 
istic  of  the  teaching  of  tl 


after  lii-  n,  i^[i' r  .  f  !:n  Fourth  Gospel,  Jesus  is  introduced 
the  midst  of  the  narrative  dealing  with  the  Baptist.  '  There 
was  a  certain  7nan  named  Je$us  {and  He  was  about  thirty  years 
old),  tcho  chose  us.'  An  account  of  the  calling  of  the  Apostles 
follows,  special  emphasis  being  laid  on  the  call  of  Matthew. 
Then  the  broken  thread  of  the  narrative  is  again  taken  up. 
■  And  John  was  baptizituj,  and  Pharisees  came  out  to  him  and 
were  baptized,  and  alt  Jerusalem.  .  .  .  His  food  was  tcild  honey, 
the  taste  of  Schick  was  the  taste  of  manna,  like  a  honey-cake  in 
oil.'  In  the  narrative  of  Christ's  baptism  which  follows,  three 
voices  come  from  heaven  ;  the  first,  '  Thou  art  Mu  beloved  Son, 
in  Thee  I  am  w  II  I  >  -  :_  rp.ated  for  the  benefit  of  the 
Baptist,  'This  /-■  M  '  .  :  the  second  is  addressed 

to  Christ,  •!  hin  Thee:     Another  fragment 

describes  the  iiii  .  i       :  ;    i      .   .Mt  12i"-5'>  in  words  which 

.  inonical  version.  Character- 
spel  are  the  two  remaining  frag- 
destroy  sacrifices,  and  except  ye  cease 
from  sacrificing,  ivrath  will  not  cease  from  you ' ;  and  '  Surely  I 
have  in  no  tvise  desired  to  eat  flesh  at  this  passover  with  you.' 

The  tendency  of  the  Gospel  is  characteristically 
Ebionitic.  All  that  is  reported  of  Jesus  is  in 
harmony  with  the  views  of  the  Gnostic  Ebionit«s 
(Elkesaites),  who  combined  the  old  Jewish-Christian 
belief  in  Jesus  as  a  mere  man,  anointed  to  be 
Messiah  tlirough  the  descent  of  the  Spirit  at 
baptism,  with  the  doctrine  of  a  heavenly  Clirist, 
'  who  wanders  over  the  common  earth  among  men, 
like  a  strange  guest  from  heaven,  in  order  that  He 
may  lead  into  His  eternal  kingdom  all  that  is 
spiritual  and  pure  in  this  impure  material  world ' 
(Hennecke,  25),  The  matter-of-fact  way  in  whicli 
Jesus  is  introduced  in  the  Gospel  ('tliere  was  a 
certain  man  named  Jesus')  points  to  the  view  that 
of  Himself  Jesus  was  nothing  to  the  members  of 
this  sect,  but  only  became  significant  as  the  object 
of  faith  through  the  descent  of  the  heavenly  Christ, 
The  ascetic  (vegetarian)  views  of  the  Ebionites  and 
their  hatred  of  sacrifices  of  blood  are  manifest  in 
the  fragments.     In  accordance  with  his  vegetarian 


sympathies,  the  author  removes  locusts  {oKpidas) 
from  the  Baptist's  diet,  and  by  way  of  compensa- 
tion states  that  the  honey  which  he  ate  tasted  like 
honey-cake  {iyicpis)  in  oil.  The  play  on  the  words 
dKpls  and  eyKpis  shows  that  oui'  Greek  Gospels,  and 
not  a  Hebrew  original,  lay  before  the  writer. 

Tlie  author  in  the  composition  of  his  work  made 
use  of  the  canonical  Gospels  in  a  free  and  clumsy 
manner.  The  narrative  of  the  Baptism,  in  par- 
ticular, is  extremelj'  awkward  and  badly  told. 
No  scruples  deterred  the  writer  from  clianging 
the  words  of  Christ  to  the  directly  opposite  sense 
by  the  simple  insertion  of  a  negative  ('I  have  in 
no  ici^e  desired  to  eat  this  passover-flesh  with 
you ' ;  cf,  Lk  22''). 

The  date  of  the  Gospel  is  late  in  the  2nd  cent, ; 
Zahn  puts  it  at  170  ;  Harnack  not  earlier  than  180, 
and  perhaps  as  late  as  the  beginning  of  the  3rd  cent, 

LiTERATORE,— Credner,  Beitruae,  i,  332  ff,  ;  Hilgenfeld,  ST 
extra  can.  iv.  33  ff, ;  Zahn,  ST  Kan.  ii,  724  ff,  ;  Harnack,  Gesch. 
d.  allchr.  Litt.  i.  205  fl,,  Chron.  1 625  fit,;  llever  in  Hennecke,  ST 
Apokr.  24  fl.,  Uandb.  42  ff. 

B.  3.  Gospel  of  Thomas, — A  single  citation  from 
a  Gnostic  Gospel  of  Thomas  is  given  by  Hippoly- 
tus  (Philos.  V,  7),  who  states  that  he  found  it  in  a 
writing  in  use  among  the  Naassenes :  '  He  mho 
seeks  me  shall  find  me  in  children  from  seven  years 
old ;  for  there  concealed  in  tlie  fourteenth  won  I 
shall  be  made  manifest.'  Origen  (Horn,  in  Luc. 
i.  1)  speaks  of  a  Gospel  of  Thomas ;  and  a  Gospel 
bearing  that  name  is  placed  by  Eusebius  (HE  iii, 
2.5,  6)  among  heretical  writings,  Cyril  of  Jeru- 
salem (Cat.  iv.  36),  referring  to  'spurious  and 
noxious  Gospels,'  mentions  a  Gospel  according  to 
Thomas  written  by  the  Manichjeans ;  and  in  another 
(Cat.  vi,  31)  he  warns  all  against  reading 
it  is  written  not  by  an  Apostle,  but  by 
'one  of  the  three  evil  disciples  of  Manes.'  The 
Decretum  Gelasii  condemns  a  Gospel  of  Tlwmas 
which  was  used  by  the  Manichaeans.  In  what 
relation  (if  any)  the  Manichjean  Gospel  stood  to 
the  Gnostic  Gospel,  referred  to  by  Hippolytus,  is 
indiscoverable,  as  no  fragment  of  the  former  is 
known.  That  the  Gnostic  Gospel  bears  some 
relation  to  the  Childhood  Gospel  of  Thomas  is 
practically  certain  from  what  we  know  of  the 
latter,  and  from  the  character  of  the  passage  cited 
by  Hippolytus,  There  are  indications  in  the 
Childhood  Gospel  which  point  to  a  Gnostic  origin  ; 
and  this  being  the  case,  if  the  two  Gospels  were 
entirely  independent,  it  would  be  nothing  less 
than  marvellous  that,  while  tlie  one  is  composed 
of  narratives  of  Christ's  cliildhood,  the  only  frag- 
ment preserved  of  the  other  should  contain  a 
cryptic  utterance  of  Christ  about  children,  (See 
below,  C,  (n)  2,  where  also  literature  will  be 
found). 

B.  4.  Gospel  of  Philip.— A  solitary  fragment 
of  this  Gospel  is  preserved  in  Epiplianius  (Hwr. 
26,  13),  who  states:  'The  Gnostics  cite  a  Gospel, 
forced  in  the  name  of  Philip  the  holy  Apostle,  a-s 
saying : 

'  The  Lord  revealed  to  me  what  the  soul  must  say  in  ascending 
to  heaven,  and  how  she  must  answer  each  of  the  upper  powers : 
••I  have  knoim  myself  and  gathered  myself  from  all  quartos, 
and  1  have  borne  no  children  to  the  Archon  [the  ruler  of  this 
world),  but  I  have  rooted  up  his  roots  and  gathered  the  scattered 
members,  and  I  know  who  thou  art.  For  I  am  one  of  those  who 
are  from  above."  And  so  she  is  released.  But  if  one  be  found 
who  has  borne  a  son,  she  is  kept  below  until  she  is  able  to  recover 
her  own  children  and  to  educate  them  for  herself.' 

The  Coptic  Gnostic  writing,  the  Plstis  Sophin, 
bears  witness  to  the  existence  in  the  3rd  cent,  uf 
the  Gospel  of  Philip  in  Gnostic  circles  in  E;.'\  jit. 
It  is  there  stated  :  '  And  when  Jesus  had  made  an 
end  of  speaking  these  words,  Philip  leaped  up  and 
stood,  and  laid  Ao\m  the  book  which  was  in  his 
hand,  for  he  it  is  who  writes  all  things  which  Jesus 
said   and   did'   (Harnack,   Gesch.   d.   altchr.   Litt. 


GOSPELS  (APOCEYPHAL) 


GOSPELS  (APOCRYPHAL)   681 


i.  14).  It  is  clear  from  this  notice,  as  well  as  from 
the  passage  quotud  by  Epiphanius,  that  the  con- 
tents of  the  Gusjjil  ijf  Philip  were  not  of  the  same 
character  as  those  of  the  canonical  Gospels,  but 
were  of  an  esoteric  nature,  revelations  of  hidden 
truth  purporting  to  have  been  communicated  by 
the  Kisen  Lord.  The  extreme  Encratite  views  of 
the  Gnostic  writer  are  apparent ;  the  assertion 
of  the  soul  that  on  earth  it  has  abstained  from 
marriage,  is  the  only  passport  into  heaven. 

The  Gospel  of  Fkilip  belongs  to  the  large  class 
of  Gnostic  writings  well  described  as  Gospel- 
Apocalypses,  which  owed  their  origin  to  the 
peculiar  conception  which  the  Gnostics  entertained 
regarding  the  person  of  Christ.  The  true  Saviour 
was  not  the  earthly  Jesus,  but  the  heavenly  Christ 
who  sojourned  in  Him,  and  who  was  fully  liber- 
ated for  the  work  of  salvation  by  I  he  la-surrection. 
Salvation  consisted  in  freeing;  I  lie  simls  of  men 
from  the  dominion  of  the  God  ol  this  wuikl,  by 
the  communication  of  the  hca\euly  knowledge 
(Gnosis) ;  and  this  knowledge  was  revealed  by 
Christ  as  a  mystery  to  His  Apostles,  partly  in 
parables  whose  meaning  was  hid  from  the  com- 
mon crowd,  partly  in  a  secret  tradition  given  after 
the  Resurrection.  The  true  gnosis  was  reserved 
for  the  small  number  of  irveviiaTLKoi,  whose  spirit 
was  derived  from  the  upper  world,  and  who,  when 
purified  from  their  connexion  with  the  earth, 
returned  into  the  kingdom  of  light.  These  views 
are  clearly  reflected  i'X  the  fragment  of  the  Gospel 
of  Philip. 

The  date  of  the  Gospel  is  towards  the  end  of  the 
2nd  century. 

Literature.— Harnaok,  Altchr.  Lilt.  i.  14  f.,  Chran.  i.  602  f. ; 
Zahn,  NT  Kan.  ii.  TClfl.;  Hennecke,  iVT  ^poir.  iO,Uandb.  91. 

C.  (a)  1.  ProteYangelium  of  James.— This  w  rit- 
ing,  dealing  with  the  history  of  Mary  and  the 
Infancy  of  Jesus,  was  first  published  in  the  West 
in  a  Latin  translation  by  the  French  humanist 
Postellus  about  the  middle  of  the  16th  century. 
Some  years  later  the  Greek  text  was  issued  by 
Michael  Neander.  The  title  '  Protevangelium ' 
(Earlie.st  Gospel)  occurs  for  the  first  time,  so  far  as 
we  know,  in  the  edition  of  Postellus  ;  the  \\  ritmg 
itself  claims  to  be,  not  a  Gospel  but  a  histoiy 
('The  History  of  James  concerning  the  buth  of 
the  All-Holy  Mother  of  God,  oi  som.  thin,  smiil  u 
is  the  title  in  the  MSS.  feeeli  li  n  loif  / 
Apocr.  1).  It  is  not  improbill  tl  I  tl  i 
'  Protevangelium '  was  gi\ en  b\  1  I  Ihi  liii 
who  had  an  extremely  high  o]  iniun  ot  the  buoL 
In  earlier  times  it  is  never  refeired  to  as  a  Guspd 
save  in  the  lists  of  spurious  writmgs  condemned 
by  ecclesiastical  authoiity  in  the  4th  and  5th 
cents.  :  '  cetera  autem  (e\  angelii)  quT?  ^  el  sub 
nomine  Matthise  sive   Jatnbi  vimoif.  non 

solum  repudianda,  verum  etiani  no\eiis  esse  dam 
nanda' (Decree  of  Innocent  I  ,  A  D  4(15)  The  per 
son  referred  to  as  the  author  ('I,  James,  wrote 
this  history')  was  in  eaily  times  unuersally 
believed  to  be  the  Lord's  biothei,  the  head  of 
the  Church  at  Jerusalem  The  tiue  author  is 
unknown. 

The  earliest  certain  reference  to  the  Piofpvan 
gelmm  occurs  in  Origen  (middle  of  3id  cent  ), 
who  states  that  many,  on  the  authority  of  the 
'  Book  of  James '  (and  the  Gospel  of  Petei )  belie\  ed 
the  brothers  of  Jesus  to  have  been  the  sons  ot 
Joseph  by  a  former  mamap,e  Allusions  to  details 
mentioned  in  the  Gospel  aie  found  (r  200)  in 
Clement  of  Alexandria  C^doi))  mi  10  'tS),  and 
(r.  140)  in  Justin  Martyi  {Dir)l  7s  100,  Apol 
3.'?);  these,  however,  do  not  neiessauly  point  to 
dependence  on  the  Profeinv(feh  it m  but  may  have 
been,  and  in  Justin's  case  piobabh  weie,  diavvTi 
from  floating  tradition.  Zahn  dates  the  wilting 
in  the  early  decades  of  the  2nd  cent  ;  but  most 


the  peopl 
a  sign  wl 
obedience 


scholars  place  it  later,  in  the  second  half  of  the 
century. 


In  its  present  form  the  Protevangelium  narrates  the  child- 
lessness of  Joachim  and  Anna,  the  shame  and  reproach  that  fell 
upon  them  on  that  account,  and  the  birth  of  Mary  in  answer  to 
their  prayer  (chs.  1-5).  When  Mary  is  three  years  old,  slie  is 
taken  to  the  temple,  where  she  lives  until  her  twelfth  year, 
being  fed  by  the  hand  of  an  angel  (chs.  7.  8).  The  priests  then 
consult  as  to  what  they  should  do  with  her,  und  are  instructed 
by  an  angel,  in  answer  to  prayer,  to  summon  the  widowers  of 
tple,  eacli  with  a  rod  in  his  hand,  that  God  may  give 
?  she  should  be  (ch.  8).  Joseph  attends  in 
unmions,  and  is  marked  out  for  the  charge  of 
'  the  virgin  of  the  Lord  '  by  a  dove  coming  out  of  his  rod  and 
alighting  on  his  head.  Joseph  would  fain  refuse,  because  he 
has  children  and  is  an  old  man  ;  but,  being  solemnly  charged 
by  the  priest,  he  takes  Mary  to  his  house  and  immediately 
leaves  home  on  business  (ch.  9).  Thereafter,  the  priests, 
desirous  of  having  a  veil  made  for  the  temple,  summon  '  the 
undeflled  virgins  of  the  family  ot  David,'  and  among  them  Mary, 
who  is  chosen  by  lot  to  spin  the  true  pun>le  and  the  scarlet. 
With  these  she  returns  home  (ch.  10).  While  drawing  water  at 
the  well,  she  hears  a  voice  pronouncing  her  blessed.  When  she 
returns,  trembling,  to  the  house,  an  angel  appears  to  her  as  she 
sits  spinning,  and  announces  that  she  will  conceive  by  the  power 
of  the  Lord  (ch.  11).  Then  follows  the  narrative  of  the  visit  to 
Elisabeth,  at  the  close  of  which  it  is  stated  that '  she  was  sixteen 
years  old  when  these  mysteries  happened '  (ch.  12).  Joseph  now 
returns  from  his  work  of  building,  and,  on  seeing  her  state, 
reproaches  her  (ch.  13).  An  angel  of  the  Lord  appears  to  him 
and  informs  him  of  the  mystery  (ch.  14).  Joseph  is  accused  of 
defiling  the  virgin  of  the  Lord ;  and  when  both  he  and  Mary 
proclaim  their  innocence,  they  are  compelled  to  drink  the  water 
'     '         ■  '      ■  (chs^  15.  16).     When  the  impel '  ' 

ith  Mary.  On  the  way,  near  to  Bethlehem,  her  days  are  ful- 
filled ;  Joseph  leads  her  into  a  cave,  and,  leaving  his  two  sons 
with  her,  goes  to  seek  a  woman  to  attend  her  (ch.  17).  [At  this 
point  the  narrative  changes  suddenly  from  the  third  person  to 
the  first :  *  And  I,  Joseph,  was  walking,  and  was  not  walking'!. 
Joseph  sees  the  whole  of  Nature  standing  still  ;  birds  and  sheep 
and  men  are  motionless,  a  sudden  arrest  having  been  put  upon 
their  movements  (ch.  IS).  A  woman  is  found,  who  enters  the 
cave,  which  is  illumined  by  a  dazzling  light ;  the  light  gradu- 
ally decreases,  and  the  infant  is  seen,  who  takes  the  breast  from 
his  mother.  Another  woman,  Salome,  appears,  and  is  incredu- 
lous when  she  is  told  of  the  virgin-birth  ;  she  seeks  a  proof,  and 
her  hand  burns  as  with  fire,  but  is  restored  when  she  touches 
the  infant  (chs.  19.  20).  [The  unpersonal  narrative  is  now 
resumed].  The  visit  of  the  Magi  is  next  described  in  language 
very  similar  to  that  in  Matthew  (ch.  21).  Herod,  learning  that 
he  has  been  mocked  by  the  Magi,  orders  the  massacre  of 
children  under  two  years.  Mary  hides  her  child  in  an  ox-stall 
(ch.  22).  The  rest  of  the  narrative  deals  with  John  the  Baptist 
and  Zacharias.  Zacharias,  becai 
son  IS  concealed  is  murdered  it 
lously  disappears  but  his  bkod  is  found  turned 
(chs  22  24)  The  narrative  ends  with  a  thanks^iMng  of  James 
for  ha\m„  ic  eived  the  j,ift  and  wisdom  to  write  the  history 

I  neral  agreement  that  the  Proteiangchum  as  it 

to  us,  is  not  in  its  original  shape     The  group  of 

^  with  /achaiias  and  John  the  Baptist  are  in  no 

I )  the  author  s  purpose    thc\  are  indeed  irrele 

I       t    ibing     An  ancient  apo(  rvphal  wilting  of  which 

/i  1    Ills  was  the  subject,  is  known  to  have  existed,  and  it 

seems  highly  probable  that  part  of  this  was  awkwardly   ap 

pended  to  the  original  Book  of  James     This  happened,  there  is 

ithe 
I  seph 


That  It  did 


fact  that  Origen    who  refers  to 

different  account  of  the  death  of  / 

able  difference  of  opinion  as  to  w  1 

the  work  of  one  author     The  al  i 

speaking  in  the  hrst  person  (eh     1  i  rT  e\i 

the  Gospel,  although  that  b\  no  means  implies  that  it  was  in 
troducecl  into  his  histoiy  by  another  Harnaok  belicxes  that 
the  original  Pook  of  Tames  did  not  contain  this  narratn  c  1  \ 
Joseph  but  If  so  it  was  a  sin„ularl\  aimless  piei  e  ofwritin„ 
stopping  short  of  the  consumnjation  which  gi\ts  the  wh  1(» 
early  history  of  Mary  Bif,niflcance  and  to  which  that  history 
manifestly  looks  nameh  her  gM  m^  birth  to  Jesus  in  \  irf,init\ 
We  conclude  that  tho    l/o  njM  m    Icpphx  (is  Harna  k  calls 


oneeption  took 
1  I  durinp,  loseph  9 
ll  in  probable  that 
telling  ot  Mar)  s 
Ker  residence  there 


6^2        GOSPELS  (APOCUYPIlAL) 


GOSPELS  (APOCRYPHAL) 


temple  veil,  because  she  was  of  the  family  of  David.  There  is 
no  reason,  however,  for  supposinj;  that  these  different  traditions 
were  combined  by  any  one  else  than  the  author  of  the  history. 

AVitli  the  exception  of  the  Zaeharias  group  of 
incidents,  the  Protcvangclium  is  a  well-designed 
unity,  a  skilfully  constructed  romance,  in  wliich 
the  author,  with  "the  help  of  material  lying  ready 
to  his  hand,  achieved  to  liis  own  satisfaction  the 
definite  purpose  which  he  had  in  view.  What  this 
purpose  was  it  is  not  difficult  to  divine.  It  was  to 
defend  the  orthodox  conception  of  Christ's  person 
against  a  double  attack,  and  to  give  an  answer  to 
those  who  taunted  Christians  with  the  lowly  if  not 
shameful  birth  of  Jesus.  Accordingly,  Mary  was 
represented  as  of  royal  descent,  the  daughter  of  a 
wealthy  man,  brougnt  up  in  the  pure  atmosphere 
of  the  Temple ;  that  was  a  sufficient  answer  to 
every  calumny  about  her  character,  and  to  every 
sneer  about  her  humble  rank.  Against  the  Gnostic 
Adew  that  Jesus,  in  being  born  of  Mary,  did  not 
partake  of  her  human  nature,  it  was  enough  to 
mention  that  the  infant  took  the  breast  from  His 
mother.  The  whole  strength  of  the  author  was, 
however,  devoted  to  safei;uarding  the  Divinity  of 
Jesus  against  Je^vish  -  Christian  misconceptions. 
That  end,  he  conceived,  could  be  best  attained  by 
exalting  the  person  of  Mary,  by  revealing  Iter  as 
one  who,  from  birth  to  womanhood,  had  retained 
an  absolute  purity  and  virginity.  She  was  bom, 
in  answer  to  prayer,  to  parents  who  had  long  been 
childless ;  she  was  brought  up  in  the  Temple, 
and  fed  on  heavenly  food ;  in  virginity  she  con- 
ceived by  the  power  of  the  Lord  ;  in  virginity  she 
gave  biith ;  in  virginity  she  remained  to  the  end. 
At  every  stage  her  virginity  is  raised  above  sus- 
picion ;  the  drinking  of  the  water  of  the  ordeal 
guarded  her  virginity  in  conception  ;  the  witness 
of  Salome  established  it  in  the  birth ;  while  the 
statement,  given  under  the  authority  of  James, 
that  the  brethren  of  Jesus  were  sons  of  Joseph  by  a 
former  wife,  was  sufficient  to  remove  any  doubts  of 
her  virginity  to  the  last. 

The  author  of  tlie  Protcvan^elium,  it  is  clear, 
wa-  nil  -Ii-wkIi  ( 'In  i.-tian.  His  ignorance  of  Jewish 
u>.i^i's  i^  iiutalily  liiiiayed  in  the  representation  of 
-Maiy  a-  a  ti-iiipl.-  \  i'rgin  {an  unheard  of  tliin" 
aiiioug  the  Juw.^),  and  in  the  water  of  the  ordeal 
being  administered  to  Joseph  (see  Nu  5).  The 
Hebraistic  colouring  is  due  to  the  sources  which 
the  writer  used.  In  certain  of  the  incidents  he  is 
influenced  by  OT  narratives  (birth  and  dedication 
of  Samuel,  Aaron's  rod,  etc.),  which  he  dovibtless 
read  in  the  Greek  version.  Tlie  canonical  accounts 
of  the  Annunciation  and  Nativity  have  teen  largely 
drawn  upon.  Cimvadys  aiows.  that  the  Protcvan- 
ycitMOT  was  the  s..iiic.-  of  Matthew  and  Luke  (Z)je 
Quelle  d.  lean,  k'nnlh.  ,f<,ir:<rl,;rhtcii),  and  that  it 
was  originally  wiiitcn  m  llc-lnew  {SK,  1889,  p. 
728  fF.),  nave  received  no  support.  Tlie  former 
\'iew  Hennecke  characterizes  as  '  kritische  Gesch- 
macklosigkeit.' 

The  Protevangelium  was  condemned  by  the 
Western  Church  in  the  decrees  of  Damasus  (382), 
Innocent  I.  (405),  and  Gelasius  (496).  Popular 
Cliristianity,  however,  demanded  .something  in  the 
place  of  that  which  had  lieen  forbidden,  and  letters 
■were  forged,  uw  t.i  .Iiiumh'  from  the  bishops 
Chromatiusof  A.iuil'ia  ami  Ileliodorusof  Altinum, 
the  other  the  anw.  i  ..i  .!(  lume,  from  which  it 
appeared  that  tliu  learneil  Father  had  acceded  to 
the  bishops'  request  to  translate  into  Latin  the 
original  Hebrew  Matthew.  This  explains  the 
appearance  of  The  Gospel  of  pseudo-Matthew,  which 
freely  worked  over  the  contents  of  the  Protevan- 
gelium, gave  an  accoimt  of  the  Flight  to  Egypt 
and  the  miracles  ^vrought  on  the  way,  and  added 
narratives  drawn  from  the  Childhood  Gospel  of 
Thonms.    A  detail,  which  is  frequently  represented 


in  Cliristian  art, — the  o.\  and  the  ass  at  the  manger, 
— appears  for  the  first  time  in  this  Gospel.  The 
veneration  of  Mary,  which  received  an  impulse  in 
the  Protevangelium,  has  now  grown  to  greater 
proportions ;  she  is  "lorified  as  '  the  Queen  of  the 
Virgins,'  and  her  holy,  nun-like  manner  of  life  is 
dwelt  upon  at  considerable  length.  The  date  of 
ps.-Matt.  is  6th  century. 

The  Gospel  of  the  Nativity  of  Mary,  also  con- 
nected with  Jerome  by  another  forged  letter,  covers 
the  same  ground  as  the  Protevangelium  (with  the 
exception  of  the  Zacharias  legend).  The  aim  of 
the  book  is  to  exalt  Mary  as  the  spotless  virgin  ; 
after  her  betrothal  to  Joseph  she  does  not  go  home 
■Nvith  him,  but  returns  to  her  parents'  house.  There 
she  receives  the  angel's  message.  The  Gosjjel 
closes  with  the  bare  mention  of  the  birth  of  Jesus. 
This  new  recension  of  the  Protevangelium  was 
doubtless  due  to  an  orthodox  revulsion  of  feeling 
against  the  somewhat  coarse  and  extravagant 
nature  of  pseudo-Matthew.  The  date  is  probably 
late  in  the  6th  century. 

LiTEE.tTURE.— Hilgenfeld,  Einleitunn,  152  ;  Tischendorf,  Evan- 
nelia  Apucr.  xii-xxii ;  Zahn,  AT  Kan.  i.  914  f.,  ii.  774  ff.; 
Hamack,  Altckr.  Litt.  i.  19£f.,  Chron.  i.  5988.;  von  Lehner, 
Die  Marienverehrung,  223 ff.;  Conrady  (works  cited  above); 
Mrs.  Lewis,  '  Apocrypha  :  Protevanj^.  Jacobi '  {Stlidia  Sinaitica, 
xi);  Meyer  in  Hennecke,  XT  Apokr.  47  ff.,  Handb.  106fl.; 
Tasker,  i.e.;  tr.  in  AnteNicene  Library,  vol.  xvi.,  Coivper,  Orr 
(ST  Apocr.  Writings),  etc. 

C.  (a)  2.  Childhood  Gospel  of  Thomas.— This 

Gospel,  whicli  deals  with  the  marvellous  events  of 

Christ's  (liil.lli 1,  was  widely  read  in  early  times 

in  all  liiaiKlir^  nf  the  Christian  Church.  In  its 
present  tcim  it  .L.us  not  claim  to  be  a  Gospel ;  it  is 
"enorally  rclcrrcd  to  as  UaiSiKd.  toO  Ki'pioi/— Inci- 
dents in  the  Lord's  Childhood.  There  is  every- 
thing, however,  in  favour  of  the  view  that  the 
original  form  of  the  writing  was  a  Gospel  in  use 
in  Gnostic  circles,  referred  to  by  Origen  and 
Hippolytus  (see  B.  3).  Besides  the  appropriatene.ss 
of  the  citation  of  Hippolytus  to  a  Childhood  Gospel, 
the  relation  between  the  two  writings  is  supported 
by  a  statement  in  hen;eus  (i.  20.  1)  that  the 
followers  of  the  Gnostic  Marcus  had  in  their  apoc- 
ryphal books  a  story  of  Jesus  as  a  boy  putting  His 
schoolmaster  to  confusion.  This  incident  is  found 
described  twice  over  in  the  Childhood  Gospel  of 
Thomas.  If  the  Gospel  of  Thomas,  mentioned  by 
Nicephorusin  his  Stichometry  (date  uncertain,  6tli- 
8th  cent.)  as  containing  1300  stichoi,  had  any  rela- 
tion with  that  known  to  us,  the  copy  which  lay 
before  him  was  more  than  twice  as  long  as  the 
longest  now  extant. 

The  external  evidence,  then,  converges  on  the 
view  that  our  present  Gospel  was  a  compilation  of 
stories  drawn  from  a  longer  Gospel,  which  origin- 
ated in  Gnostic  circles,  the  parts  which  were  iin- 
disguisedly  Gnostic  in  tone  being  omitted.  This  con- 
clusion is  confirmed  by  the  character  of  the  Go.spel 
itself.  A  few  Gnostic  traces  still  remain,  notably 
in  the  mj'sterious  .symbolism  of  the  letters  of  the 
alphabet.  The  extraordinary  miracles  attributed 
to  the  child  Christ,  and  His  astonishing  knowledge, 
were  no  doubt  interpreted  by  Gnostics  in  a  way  to 
lend  support  to  their  own  views.  For  them  '  the 
worth  of  these  miracles  lay  in  the  proof,  which 
could  be  drawn  from  them,  that  Christ  did  not 
belong  to  this  world,  that  even  as  a  child  He  was 
raised  bej-ond  human  de\  elopiuent  and  limitation, 
so  that  as  a  child  He  cotild  teach  every  human 
teacher'  (Meyer  in  Henn.  64).  The  fragment  in 
Hippolytus  (quoted  in  B.  3)  may  have  been  a 
Gnostic  utterance  of  the  child  Christ. 
The  fipure  of  Jesus  in  tlii-  r:,i~|,,  1  I-  ,  iim  lui.  li- 1\  and  hateful 


Childhnr,. 
workinjc : 
without  ; 


.f  the  grace,  .ir 
The  miracl-  ■. 


GOSPELS  (APOCRYPHAL) 


GOSPELS  (APOCRYPHAL)        383 


water  from  the  well  in  His  cloak  .after  breaking  tiie  pitcher  ;  to 
the  former,  His  passionate  vhd-^-mi.-p  oit  a  l.ov  who  accidentally 
ran  against  Him,  and  was  I;u<l  ih  mI  -n  He  siioi, ;  tlie  cursing  of 
His  teacher,  who  fell  down 
made  by  His  petulant  am 
lieved  by  an  occasional  mi 
conduct  are  those  of  a  sjx 
stances  He  takes  Joseph 


two  i 


iial)le  the  reader  to  form  some  idea  of  the 
youthful  Gnostic  at  school.  A  teaclier,  Zaccheeus  by  name, 
approaches  Joseph,  offering  to  teach  Jesus  letters,  and  how  to 
greet  His  elders  respectfully,  and  how  to  lo\e  those  of  His  own 
age — much  needed  lessons  !  This  is  how  Jesus  profits  by  His 
attendance  at  school.  '  He  looked  upon  His  teacher  Zacchaius, 
and  said  to  him  :  Thou,  who  ■  .... 

how  canst  thou  teach  othei 
teach  the  A  if  thou  canst,  and  then  we  shall  believe  thee  about 
the  B.  Then  He  began  to  question  the  teacher  about  the  first 
letter,  and- he  was  unable  to  answer  Him.  In  the  hearing  of 
many  the  child  says  to  ZacchEus :  Hear,  O  teacher,  the  disposi- 
tion of  the  first  letter,  and  observe  how  it  has  straight  lines  and 
a  middle  stroke  which  crosses  tliose  which  thou  seest  to  belong 
to  one  another;  (lines)  which  go  together,  raise  themselves, 
wind  round  in  a  dance,  move  themselves,  and  go  round  again, 
which  are  composed  of  three  signs,  are  of  similar  nature,  of  the 
same  weight,  of  the  same  size.  Thou  hast  the  lines  of  the  A.' 
How  vast  is  the  gulf  separating  this  absurd  and  pretentious 
display  from  the  simple  story  of  Christ  among  the  doctors  in 
the  Temple  1  Here  a  forward  and  unbearably  conceited  boy, 
who  is  ready  to  teach  his  elders ;  there  a  child  with  the  fresh 
wonder  of  life's  greatness  in  his  heart,  eager  to  learn,  ready  to 

Many  of  the  stories  here  narrated  of  Christ  have  their  origin 
in  folk-lore  and  mythology.  Similar  stories  are  told  of  Krishna 
and  Buddha.  But  in  all  countries  the  popular  imagination  has 
borne  unconscious  witness  to  man's  greatness  by  its  delight  in 
tales  of  wonder-children.  Legends  of  this  nature  were  laid  hold 
of  by  tlie  Gnostics,  and  used  in  the  interest  of  their  peculiar 
speculations  about  Christ.  '  The  wonder-child  becomes  a  Gnostic, 
who  looks  down  on  the  unspiritual  world,  and,  in  particular, 
heartily  despises  the  religion  of  the  Jews'  (Meyer  in  Henn.  65). 
vhich  they  were  burdened, 

circles.  The  craving  for  the  marvellous  proved  stronger  than 
the  sense  of  what  was  fitting  in  Jesus ;  and  the  silence  of 
Christ's  childhood,  which  had  been  regarded  as  an  evidence  of 
His  true  humanity,  became  thronged  with  silly  and  repulsive 
exhibitions  of  power  and  knowledge,  which  were  believed  to  be 
signs  of  His  Divine  dignity. 

In  its  present  form  the  Childhood  Gospel  of 
Thomas  cannot  be  older  than  the  .3rd  century. 
The  Gospel  exists  in  several  recensions,  which 
vary  considerably  in  length. 

Literature. —Tischendorf,  Eiiang.  Apocr.  xxxvi  ff.  ;  Zahn, 
NT  Kan.  i.  615,  539,  802,  ii.  768  tf.;  Harnack,  Altchr.  Litt.  i. 
l.'Sflf.,  Chron.  i.  593 ff.  ;  Bost,  Les  cmiuj.  apocr.  dc  I'cirfance  dc 
Jdsm  Christ;  Conrady,  'Das  Thomasevangelium,'  SK,  1903, 
p.  377 ff.;  Meyer  in  Hennecke,  NT  Apoki:  me.,  Handb.  132ff.; 
Wright,  Contributions  to  the  Apocr.  Literature  o.f  the  NT; 
Cowper,  Orr  (opp.  citt.). 

C.  (a)  3.  Arabic  Gospel  of  the  Childhood.-This 

IS  a  late  <<iiii|...si(iun,  in  ^vl|i,■Il  .m-  worked  up  the 
materiiil>  ..f  i|„.  ...irlin'  r/,//,//,,„„/  <;,,spcls.  The 
compiler  li:is  :il>(.  .1,1,1,.,!  n,:,nv  li';.;,.ii,ls  of  a  wildly 
fantaslic  ,ni,l  lii^hly  niir.Muloi'.N  ii;i,ture.  One  or 
two  examjiles  may  suffi(,e  to  sliow  the  character  of 
tlie  greater  portion  of  the  book.  The  Magi  receive 
from  'the  Lady  Mary,'  as  a  souvenir  of  their  visit 
to  Bethlehem,  one  of'  the  swaddling  bands  in  wliich 
the  infant  Je.sus  was  Avrn.]i|.c,|.  On  thi'ir  return 
home  they  show  their  tr,,|,li\  t,.  tli,.  :issiMiiMe,l 
kings  and  princes.  A  fe;i-(  i-  l,,.|,l.  .■m,!  ;,  lire  i,s 
lighted,  which  the  coiiiii:in\-  «  ,.rsliii,s.     'I' 


tiling  band  is  thrown  into  the 
fire  had  burned  itself  out,  it  i; 
Whereupon  the  cloth  is  laid  uj 
in  the  treasure  house.  A'_:niii, 
the  infant  .lesns  is  «;i~li,.,l  Ti:,-  ii 
and  cliil,lr,.n  «h,is,.  I....li,v,  .■n,- 
are  cleaii>,.,l  l,y  iKilliin.,  in  ii. 
by  witchcraft 


restored  to  human  form  by  Mary'i 
—  the  mule's  back. 


ire,  and,  when  the 
found  unharmed, 
witli  great  honour 
he  wafer  in  which 
ni.M  \  ellous  virtue, 
1  lull'  witli  leprosy 
.V  yoiuig  man  who 
mule. 


[ilacing  Jesuh 


This  Gospel  was  the  main  source  of  the  know- 
ledge of  Jesus  among  the  Mohammedans.  For  their 
edification,  Kessfeus  incorporated  its  stories,  with 
much  embellishment,  in  his  history  of  patriarchs 
and  prophets- 


LrrEKATURE.  —  Tischendorf,    Eiian^        .         ,  . 

Apacr.  NT;  Walker,  (Ante-Nicene  Library,  vol.  xvi.);  Tasker 
{I.e.)  ;  Meyer  in  Hennecke,  Handb.  102. 

C.  (a)  i.  History  of  Joseph  the  Carpenter.— In 

Egypt,  where  feast-days  were  multiplied  to  cele- 
brate events  or  to  commemorate  persons  held  in 
high  esteem  by  the  Church,  the  History  of  Joseijh 
was  written  ior  tlie  purpose  of  being  read  on  20th 
July,  the  alleged  tlay  of  Joseph's  death.  The  nar- 
rative is  placed  in  the  mouth  of  Jesus,  who  dis- 
courses to  His  disciples  on  the  Mount  of  Olives. 
After  an  introductory  address,  which  has  passages 
reminiscent  of  the  Psalms,  the  Gospels,  and  St. 
Paul's  Epistles,  the  life  of  Joseph  is  sliortly  de- 
scribed, in  which  evident  use  is  inaile  of  ( \\>il'rotevan- 
geliicm  or  one  of  its  sources  (AjwriijiIiHui  Ju.i-cphi). 
The  circumstances  attending  the  death  of  Joseph 
are  described  at  great  length.  We  are  told  of  his 
dread  of  death  ;  we  listen  to  a  bitter  lament  for  his 
sins  (among  them  his  venturing  to  correct  Jesus  as 
a  child),  and  to  a  prayer  to  lie  delivered  from  the 
demons  of  darkness  who  lie  in  wail  t',ir  his  soul. 
When  Death  api)roaches  will,  his  ,Iiim,I  retinue, 
Jesus  drives  them  back.  In  aiiswei  I,.  His  prayer, 
Michael  and  Gabriel  carry  oil  the  spirit  of  Joseph 
to  '  the  dwelling  place  of  the  pious.'  Thereafter 
Christ  comforts  the  mourners,  and  Himself  bewails 
the  death  of  Joseph.  It  is  plain,  from  this  survey 
of  the  contents  of  the  book,  that  its  purpose  was 
less  to  give  the  history  of  Joseph  than  '  to  recom- 
mend Christianity  as  the  deliverer  in  the  extremity 
of  death,  and  to  teach  the  true  Christian  art  of 
dying'  (Meyer  in  Henn.  Handb.  103). 

The]  history,  in  all  probability,  was  written  in 
Coptic.  Recensions  of  it  in  the  Bohairic  and  Sahidic 
dialects  exist,  the  latter  fragmentary  (Forbes  Rob- 
inson, Coptic  Apocryphal  Gospels,  130  tt'.).  There 
is  also  an  Arabic  text,  first  printed  in  1722. 

Tischendorf  puts  the  date  of  the  history  in  the 
4th  century. 

Literature. — Tischendorf,  Meyer,  Forbes  Robinson  (ppp.  citt.). 

C.  (a)  3.  The  Departure  of  Mary The  growing 

veneration  of  Mary  in  the  Church  led  to  the  inven- 
tion of  incidents  in  her  life  parallel  to  those  in  the 
life  of  Christ.  This  was  the  motive  that  gave  rise 
to  the  Departure  of  Mary  {Transitus  Marice),  other- 
wise known  as  the  Kolix-ricn.i  (the  Falling  Asleep), 
Bormitio,  Assumptio.  As  Christ  had  risen  from  the 
dead  and  ascended  into  heaven,  so  must  Mary  have 
risen  and  ascended.     The  story  runs  as  follows  : 

One  day,  when  Mary,  according  to  her  custom,  had  gone  to 
*  the  holy  tomb  of  our  Lord '  to  burn  incense  and  pray,  the 
archangel  Gabriel  announces  her  approaching  death,  and  informs 
her  that,  in  answer  to  her  request,  she  shall  '  go  to  the  heavenly 
places  to  her  Son,  into  the  true  and  everlasting  life."  On  her 
return  home  she  pr.ays,  and  all  the  Apostles— those  who  arc 
already  dead  and  those  still  alive— are  gathered  to  her  bedside 
at  Bethlehem.  The  Apostles  narrate  how  they  were  engaged 
when  tlie  summons  came  to  them.  The  heavens  are  filled  with 
hosts  of  angels  ;  miracles  of  healing  happen,  and  the  sick  crowd 
to  the  house.  The  Jews  endeavour  to  seize  Mary;  but  the 
Apostles,  carrying  the  couch  on  which  '  the  Lady,  the  mother 
of  God,'  lay.  are  home  on  a  cloud  to  Jerusalem.  Here  Christ 
appears  to  her,  and  in  answer  to  her  request  declares ;  '  Rejoice 
and  be  glad,  for  all  grace  is  given  to  thee  by  My  Father  in 
heaven,  and  by  Jle,  and  by  the  Holy  Ghost ;  whoever  calls  on 
thy  name  shall  not  be  put  to  shame,  but  shall  find  comfort  and 
support  both  in  this  world  and  in  that  which  is  to  come,  in  the 
presence  of  My  heavenly  Father.'  Then,  while  the  Apostles  sing 
a  hymn,  Mary  falls  asleep.  She  is  laid  in  a  tomb  in  Gethsemane  ; 
for  three  days  an  angel-choir  is  heard  glorifying  God,  and  when 
they  are  silent  all  know  that  '  her  spotless  and  precious  body 
has  been  transferred  to  Paradise.' 

In  this  story,  which  has  had  a  remarkable  influ- 
ence in  the  Roman  Catholic  Church,  we  have  the 
clear  signs  of  an  advanced  sta^e  of  the  worship  of 
the  Virgin.  Prayer  to  her  is  here  enjoined  ;  and 
the  tendency  disclo.sed,  to  find  parallels  between 
her  life  and  the  life  of  Christ,  marks  a  definite 
stage  of  the  movement  which  eventually  made  her 
a  sharer  in  the  work  of  redemption.  The  epithet 
BearrdKos  (mother  of  God),  which  was  first  applied  to 


684   GOSPELS  (APOCRYPHAL) 


GOSPELS  (APOCRYPHAL) 


Mary  by  Cyril  of  Jerusalem  (beginning  of  4th  cent. ), 
and  played  so  large  a  part  in  the  Nestorian  contro- 


cent.  In  the  Gelasian  Decree  (496)  it  was  included 
among  those  apocryphal  writings  which  are  '  non 
solum  repudiata,  verum  etiam  ab  omni  Romana 
catholica  et  apostolica  ecclesia  eliminata  atque 
cum  suis  auctoribu.s  auctorumque  sequacibus  sub 
anathematis  indissolubili  vinculo  in  seternum  dam- 
nata.'  In  spite  of  this  the  writing  maintained 
its  place,  and  by  the  6th  cent,  it  was  held  in  the 
highest  honour.  It  was  in  later  days  ascribed  to 
Melito  of  Sardis  (c.  170),  and  even  to  the  Apostle 
John.  Versions  of  it,  in  longer  and  shorter  forms, 
are  e.xtant  in  Greek,  Latin,  Arabic,  Coptic,  and 
Syriac. 

Literati-re.  —  Tischendorf,  Wright,  Forbes  Robinson,  Orr 
(opp.  citL)\  Mrs.  Lewis,  'Apocrypha.'  (Shui.  Sinaitica,  xi.). 

C.  (6)  1.  The  Gospel  of  Nicodemus.— This  Gospel, 
dealing  with  the  Trial,  Death,  and  Resurrection  of 
Jesus,  and  with  His  Descent  into  Hades,  is  a  com- 
bination of  two  earlier  writings— (1)  Acta  Pilati, 
and  (2)  Descensus  Christi  ad  inferos.  The  older 
Greek  MSS  contain  only  ( 1 )  with  an  independent 
conclusion,  while  there  are  clear  signs  that  the  com- 
piler had  not  thoroughly  mastered  all  his  material. 
The  earliest  form  is  found  in  a  Latin  version,  pro- 
bably of  the  5th  or  6th  cent.  ;  but  it  was  not  until 
the  13tli  cent,  that  the  name  of  Nicodeinus  was  asso- 
ciated \vith  it.  The  writing  claimed  to  have  been 
written  in  Hebrew  by  Nicodemus,  and  to  have 
been  translated  into  Greek  by  Ananias  or  .Eneas 
Protector. 

The  contents  ot  the  Gospel  are  as  follows  : 

(1)  Jesus  is  accused  by  tlie  Jews.  Pilate  orders  Jesus  to  be 
brought  before  him.  The  messen<?er,  by  Pil.ite's  instructions, 
shows  Jesus  great  respect.  As  Jesus  enters  the  judi^ment-hall, 
the  tops  of  the  Roman  standards  bow  down  before  Him  (ch.  1). 
The  charge  that  Jesus  was  'born  of  fornication'  is  disproved 
(ch.  2).  Pilate  privately  examines  Hira,— the  passage  is  b,ised  on 
John  183»-38,— and  declares  Him  not  worthy  of  death  (chs.  3.  4). 
Various  witnesses,  among  them  Nicodenm's  and  some  who  had 
been  healed  by  Jesus,  come  forward  and  speak  on  His  behalf 
(chs.  5-8).  The  Jews  choose  Barabbas  instead  of  Jesus,  and 
are  reproached  for  their  ingratitude  by  Pilate.  Pilat*  washes 
hands,  and  suffers  Jesus  to  be  led  forth  to  crucifixion  (ch.  9). 
f  the  crucifixion  and  burial,  based 
ph  of  Ariiiiathjea  is  put  into  prison 


Then  follows 
on  Lk  23  (chs.  10. 
by  the  Jews  for  1 
(ch.  12).  The  u'ua. 
to  the  Sanhedriii,  : 
the  bodv  (ch.  13). 
witness'to  Christ's 


miraculously  delivered 
•■port  the  resurrection 
that  the  disciples  stole 
(■\  ite  from  Galilee  bear 
barged  to  keep  silent, 
I  the  pro]X)sal  of  Nico- 


demus, search  is  made  for  Jesus,  In 
more  given  of  His  ascension  (chs.  In.  1(1). 

(2)  This  purports  to  have  been  written  down  by  Carinus  and 
Leucius,  sons  of  the  aged  Simeon,  who  had  been  raised  from  the 
dead  by  Jesus(ch.  17).  '  A  purple  royal  light '  appears  in  Hades  ; 
John  the  Baptist  announces  the  near  approach  of  Christ  to  visit 
those  '  sitting  in  darkness  and  the  shadow  of  death '  (ch.  18). 
Seth  tells  of  his  prayer  for  oil  from  the  tree  of  mercy  to  heal  his 
father,  and  of  Michael's  promise  that  he  should  receive  it  when 
the  Son  of  fiod  came  to  earth  (ch.  Ifl).  A  conversation  takes 
place  between  Satan  and  Tartarus,  who  dread  Christ's  coming 
(ch.  20).  The  summons  is  made  (Ps  24")  in  a  voice  of  thunder  to 
grant  Jesus  admission  :  Satan  and  Tartarus  are  powerless  to 
exclude  Ilini  (nh.  2i).  Satan  is  (irli\frf(l  into  the  iiower  of 
Hades,  uli^.  :■■-■■■.'.,■•  >  ■      .  i  :,„  ,,,,,i,.,._ 


that  had 


isepll  and  Nicodenm: 
ip  an  account  of  'al 
Jesus  by  the  Jews, 


The  first  part  of  the  Go.y>e/.  of  Niroflemu.<i~{\io. 
Acts  of  Pilate— exista  in  various  recensions,  the 
earliest   of   which    cannot    be    much    older    than 


the  beginning  of  the  5th  century.  The  question, 
however,  is  raised  by  references  in  Justin  and 
Tertullian,  whether  these  Acts  are  not  based  on 
much  older  documents.  In  his  first  Apology  (ch.  35) 
Justin,  after  describing  the  crucifixion  of  Jesus, 
declares :  '  And  that  these  things  happened,  one 
may  learn  from  the  Acts  drawn  uji  under  Pontius 
Pilate ' ;  and  again  (ch.  48),  when  speaking  of 
miracles  which  Jesus  wrought,  he  adds  a  like 
testimony.  Moreover,  Tertullian  in  two  passages 
(Ajjul.  5  and  21)  speaks  of  a  report  sent  to  Tiberius 
by  Pilate  dealing  with  Christ ;  and  in  the  latter 
passage,  after  giving  a  brief  account  of  Christ's 
life  and  a  detailed  description  of  His  death,  resur- 
rection, and  ascension,  he  states  :  '  Pilate,  who  in 
his  heart  was  already  a  Christian,  reported  all 
these  things  about  Christ  to  Tiberius,  who  was 
emperor  at  that  time. '  Many  scholars  believe  that 
the  report  referred  to  by  Tertullian  is  preserved 
in  the  Letter  of  Pilate  to  Claudius  (ch.  29  of  the 
Gospel  of  A'ieodemus).  On  the  other  hand,  Hamack 
holds  the  Letter  to  be  later  than  Tertullian  (Chron. 
i.  607  tf.).  On  the  ground  of  Justin's  references, 
Tischendorf  (Evang.  Apocr.  Ixiv),  followed  by  Hof- 
mann  {PRE''  i.  659),  dates  our  extant  Acts  of  Pilate 
in  the  2nd  centuiy.  Lipsius  {Die  Pilatusakten, 
14ft.),  however,  Hamack  (Chron.  i.  ClOff'.),  and 
others  believe  that  Justin  had  no  knowledge  of  any 
Acts  of  Pilate,  and  simply  assumed  their  existence'; 
wliile  von  Schubert,  followed  by  StUleken  (Henn. 
Handb.  146  f. ),  maintains  that  Justin  was  ac- 
quainted with  Acts  of  Pilate  which  probably 
formed  the  basis  of  the  present  Acts.  The  question 
is  an  intricate  one,  and  cannot  be  fully  discussed 
here.  Tischendorf's  conclusion  may,  however, 
safely  be  set  aside.  Haraack  bases  his  judgment 
mainly  on  the  ground  that,  if  Justin  had  had  any 
real  knowledge  oi  Acts  of  Pilate  dealing  with  the 
facts  which  he  narrates,  he  would  have  quoted  from 
them,  while,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  his  quotations  are 
from  the  Prophets  and  the  Gospels.  Against  this 
it  must,  however,  be  urged  that,  if  Justin  had  not 
had  some  definite  kno%vledge  to  go  upon,  he  would 
never  have  ilnrfd  in  an  .iddress  to  the  Emperor  to 
ground  liis  .'nM^  ..u  .lonuuents  whicli  presumably 
were  in  the  piiMir  aivlii\e>..  The  present  writer 
inclines  to  thi:  \  ie\\  thai  Arts  of  Pilate,  at  least 
believed  to  be  genuine,  were  in  existence  in  the 
2nd  cent.,  and  that  our  present  Acts  were  in- 
fluenced by  them.  Whether  the  2nd  cent.  Acts 
were  based  on  any  authentic  report  by  Pilate,  it  is 
impossible  to  say. 

It  is  clear  that  the  Acta  Pilati  in  their  present 
form  are  largely  dependent  on  the  canonical 
Gospels,  and  that  many  of  the  additions  are  fabri- 
cations put  forward  for  apologetic  reasons.  The 
aim  of  the  writer  is  to  furnish  convincing  proof  of 
the  truths  of  Christianity  ;  wliat  could  better  serve 
his  purpose  than  to  show  Pilate  on  the  side  of 
Christ,  and  to  narrate  incidents  touching  Christ's 
resurrection  which  not  even  His  enemies  could 
challenge?  Heathen  asjiersions  on  the  birth  of 
•Tisus  are  al.so  disposed  of  by  evidence  given  at 
Mis  trial. 

riie  second  part  of  the  Gospel— T/ip  Descent  info 
ll.iiJiw — represents  in  .a  developed  form  the  tra- 
dition, early  and  widely  accepted,  which  was  ba.sed 
on  1  P  3''  ('  He  went  and  preached  unto  the  spirits 
in  prison ').  Earlier  traces  of  the  same  tradition 
are  found  in  the  Go.iprl  nf  Prfrr  ('  And  they  heard 


a  voice  from  heaven,  s.i 
them  that  sleep?  Ai 
the  Cro.ss,  Yea'),  ami 
The  Gospel  of  A, 
Vincent  de  Beanvais 
by  .Jacobus  de  Voi.i 
and  through  these  \m 
influence. 


m  preached  to 
IS  hcaril  from 

'.kfTnY    by 

,,/  1/. '/■".«  and 
,'  .  I'lcnda, 
I   l.ii-iL-aching 


GOSPELS  (APOCRYPHAL) 


GOVERNOR 


685 


LiTERATDRE.— Tischendorf,  Emiiij.  Apuci 
PUatusttkleii,  Aii'iti:  Ajiast<l;irsrlurlil,^n  ; 
Cmnpiifiitl'nl     itr.^    I'S.  -  /;<//■.      k r,i ihl<'/i lliilj 

Altehr.  IJtI.  i.  -Jl  It:.  CIn.m.  I.  r,n:;il\  ;  ^,m 
f.   NT 


Moniiusen.  /.  ' 
d.  altehr.  Lilt 
Handb.  14311. 


Heniiccke,  NT  Ap:. 


C.  (6)  2.  The  Legend  of  Abgar.  — In  Eusebius 
(HE  i.  13.  6tt'.)  we  tind  letter.s  purporting  to  have 
passed  between  Abgar  v.  king  of  Ede.ssa,  and  Jesus. 
Eusebius  states  that  the  letters  were  preserved  in 
the  royal  archives,  and  gives  a  literal  translation 
of  them  from  the  Syriae.  Abgar,  who  was  suffer- 
ing from  an  incurable  disease,  having  heard  of 
Christ's  wonderful  power  of  healing,  wrote,  en- 
treating Christ  to  come  and  cure  him,  and  offering 
Him  a  re.sidence  in  Edi  >sa,  when'  He  would  be 
safe  from  the  malice  ni  ili''  -lew-..  Jesus  replied 
that  He  must  accoinpli-li  Hi-  mi  — inn  and  ascend 
to  Him  who  had  sent  Him,  l>ut  tliat  after  His 
ascension  He  would  send  one  of  His  disciples,  who 
would  cure  the  king  and  bring  life  to  him  and  all 
who  were  with  him.  Then  follows  an  account, 
also  translated  from  the  Syriac,  of  the  fullilment 
of  Christ's  promise  in  the  sending  by  the  Apostle 
Thomas   of    Thaddseus,   one  of    the    Seventy,   to 


The  legendary  character  of  the  correspondence 
is  beyond  all  doubt,  although  its  genuineness  was 
accepted  by  Eusebius,  and  has  been  defended  by 
several  scholars,  among  them  Cureton  and  Phillips 
in  England  (see  Phillips,  Adclai  the  Apostle,  ixff). 
It  had  its  origin  some  time  after  the  introduction 
of  Christianity  into  Edessa  {c.  170),  owing  to  a 
desire  to  have  an  Apostolic  foundation  for  the 
Church.  The  date  of  it  is  probably  the  second 
half  of  the  3rd  century. 

The  correspondence  and  the  narrative  of  Addai's 
mission  found  a  place,  with  many  additions,  in 
the  Syriac  Teaching  of  Added,  which  dates  from 
about  400.  The  legend  had  a  wide  influence,  and 
found  credence  in  all  sections  of  the  Church,  not- 
withstanding the  doubts  expressed  regarding  it  in 
the  Gelasian  Decree  ;  a  Greek  recension  of  it — the 
Acts  of  ThaddiEus — contains  in  addition  the  story 
of  the  portrait  of  Jesus  miraculously  stamped  on  a 
napkin.     See  also  art.  Abgar. 

The  legendary  letter  of  Clnist  was  in  widespread 
favour  as  a  talisman  to  gu.-iril  against  dangers  of 
all  kinds.  For  this  purpose  it  -was  placed  at  the 
city  gate  of  Edessa  and  at  tlie  doors  of  private 


Up  to  quite  recent  times  copies  of  the 
letter  were  to  be  found  framed  in  the  houses  of 
the  peasantry  in  England  (see  Donehoo,  Apocryphal 
and  Legendary  Life  of  Christ,  223). 


LiTEKATUBE.— Lipsius,  Die  edessenische  Abgarsage,  1880,  Dip, 

-  ''  .  Apostelgeschichten,  ii.    2.  178  £f. ;  Zahn,  Forschungen, 

fl.,  NT  Kan.  i.  369  ff. ;  Tixiront.  Les  origines  de  Viglise 


d'Edesse,  1888;  Harnaok,  AlUhi.  ^.„o.  ,.  .,„„.,.,  .i.ugc., 
AUchr.  Litt.  228  f.;  Phillips,  Doctrine  of  Addai  the  Apostk, 
1876 ;  Stulcken  in  Hennecke,  NT  Apokr.  76 11.,  Handb.  153 11. 

D.  Gospel  of  Tatian.— The  Gospel  of  Tatian, 
better  known  as  the  Diatc.'isaron,*  was  a  Harmony 
of  the  four  Gospels,  in  all  likelihood  written  origin- 
ally in  Syriac  for  the  use  of  the  Church  at  Edessa. 
The  author  of  the  Harmony  was  a  disciple  of  Justin 
Martyr  in  Rome  ;  but,  being  condenmed  for  hereti- 
cal views,  he  returned  to  his  native  land  in  the 
valley  of  the  Euphrates  about  the  year  172.  Be- 
tween that  date  and  the  close  of  the  2nd  cent. 
his  '  patchwork  Gospel '  was  written,  in  which, 
using   the   chronological    scheme    of    the    Fourth 

*  Diatessaron  (Sii  TS(riri/uo>)  is  variously  interpreted.  The  ex- 
pression is  generally  regarded  as  signifying  a  compilation  in 
which  only  the  .four  Gospels  were  used  ;  but  as  the  word  was  in 
use  as  a  musical  terminus  technicus  to  denote  a  harmony,  Tatian 
might  have  employed  it  as  a  description  of  his  work,  no  matter 
how  many  Gospels  he  had  drawn  upon  (Hanilyn  Hill,  Earliest 
Life,  21 ;  Jiilicher,  Einleitung,  391  f.). 


( iospel,  he  wove  into  a  connected  narrati\e  the  four 
i I  ilicrent  accounts  of  our  Lord's  life.  It  is  doubtful 
\  hither,  before  the  appearance  of  the  Diatessaron, 
III'  four  Gospels  circulated  separately  in  the  Syrian 
I 'liuri-li  :  but  Imwever  that  may  be,  it  was  clearly 
Taliuiis  iiitrnliiiii  111  iiroviilc  ;i  ( iospel  for  popular 
use  wliirh  >liiiMM  ,,l.\i;ilc  llir  disadvantages  of 
having  llii'  ii.iii.itiM'  III  (_lni>t.s  life  in  difl'erent 
forms.'  Till'  ,  uiliiiir  ;j,,rs  to  show  that  tile  Z^OT- 
tcssaron.  \\A-  iii  uinrial  u^^e  in  the  Syrian  Church 
up  to  the  lii-iiiiiuij  III  till'  :3tli  cent.  In  the  Teach- 
ing of  Add,  n  [,'.  tiiii)  HI'  lead  that  'a  large  multi- 
tude of  people  asseiiililed  day  by  day  and  came  to 
the  prayer  of  the  service,  and  to  the  reading  of  the 
Old  and  New  Testament,  of  the  Diatessaron,'  etc. 
(PhUlips,  Addai  the  Apostle,  34).  In  the  middle  of 
the  4th  cent.  Ephraem  used  the  Diatessaron  as  the 
basis  of  his  famous  commentary  on  the  Gospels. 
But  from  the  5th  cent,  onwards  Tatian's  Gospel 
was  displaced  from  ijublic  worship  by  the  new 
translation  of  the  separate  Gospels  made  under 
Rabbula, — the  Peshitta,  the  Syriac  Vulgate, — 
although,  largely  owing  to  the  commentary  of 
Ephraem,  it  continued  to  be  read  and  to  exert  an 
influence  for  many  centuries  later. 

Neither  the  Diatessaron  nor  the  commentary  of 
Ephraem  has  been  preserved  to  us  in  the  original 
Syriac.  There  are,  however,  Latin  and  Arabic 
versions  of  the  Diatessaron,  and  two  distinct 
Armenian  versions  of  Ephraem's  commentary. 
For  the  reconstruction  of  the  text  of  the  Diates- 
saron, Ephraem's  commentary  is  of  the  highest 
value,  and  the  work  has  been  brilliantly  executed 
by  Zahn  {Forschungen,  i.).  Unfortunately,  while 
the  Latin  and  Arabic  versions  keep  Tatian's  ar- 
rangement of  the  narrative,  they  are  of  no  value 
for  the  restoration  of  the  text.  The  Latin  Har- 
mony (Codex  Fuldensis),  which  belongs  to  about 
the  beginning  of  the  6th  cent.,  gives  throughout 
the  text  of  the  Vulgate  ;  while  the  Arabic  version, 
which  was  originally  made  in  the  lltli  cent.,  is 
evidently  a  translation  from  a  text  of  the  Dia- 
tessaron which  had  been  accommodated  to  the 
Peshitta.  In  the  9th  cent,  an  epic  poem  entitled 
HSliand  was  written,  based  on  a  translation  of  the 
Codex  Fuldensis.  It  became  widely  known,  and 
to  it  our  Anglo-Saxon  forefathers  were  largely 
indebted  for  their  knowledge  of  the  life  of  Christ 
(Hamlyn  Hill,  op.  cit.  20,  38). 

In  accordance  with  Tatian's  peculiar  views,  the 
Diatessaron  reveals  a  slight  Encratite  tendency. 
According  to  Theodoret  (Ucer.  Fab.  i.  20),  it  omitted 
the  genealogies  of  Christ  and  everything  dealing 
with  Christ's  birth  ( '  all  things  that  show  our  Lord  to 
have  been  born  of  the  seed  of  David  according  to  the 
flesh ').  The  Birth-nanatives  of  Luke  and  Matthew 
are,  however,  found  in  the  Arabic  and  Latin  re- 
censions, as  well  as  in  Ephraem's  commentary. 

Literature. — Zahn,  Forschungen,  \.  ii.  iv.  vii.;  Ciasca,  Taliani 
Evangeliorum  Hamwnia:  Araliicr  ;  Harnack,  Altehr.  Lilt.  i. 
485 if.,  Chron.  i.  28411.;  JT  i.  i.  loij  ff.,  art.  in  Encyc.  Brit.'J; 
Burkitt,  S.  Ephraim's  Quotations  from  the  Gospel  (cf.  also  his 
Evangelion  da-Mepharreshc)  ;  Kendel  Harris,  The  Diatessaron  of 
Tatian ;  Hamlyn  Hill,  Earliest  Life  of  Christ ;  Hemphill,  The 
Diatessaron,  etc. ;  Stenning  in  Hastings'  DB,  Ext.  Vol.  461  flF. 
A.  F.  FINDLAY. 

GOYEENOR.— The  word  'governor'  (T;7eA'ii>',  Lat. 
praeses,  dux)  is  a  comprehensive  term,  being  the 
only  Greek  word  which  includes  every  class  of 
provincial  governor  under  the  Roman  empire. 
The  following  officials,  for  instance,  are  included 
under  this  title:— (1)  Governors  of  Senatorial  Pro- 
vinces, namely,  pro  consulibus  who  are  ex -consuls, 
and  pro  consulibus  who  are  ex-praetors.  The 
former  class  ruled  the  governmental    spheres  of 

*  To  distinguish  it  from  the  fourfold  form    of   the  Gonpel 
(Evangelion  da-Mepharreshe,  'the  Gospel  of  the  Separated'). 
•     ■    ■  ■  Eoangelion  da-Mel^aUete, 


686 


GOVEKNOK 


GRACE 


duty,  Asia  and  Africa ;  the  latter  all  other  pro- 
vinces which  by  the  arrangement  between  Augustus 
and  the  Senate  in  27  B.C.  were  put  under  the 
authority  of  that  body,  such  as  Sicily,  Macedonia, 
Achaia.  (2)  Governors  of  Imperial  Provinces, 
namely,  legati  Augusti  jiro  praetoribus  who  are  ex- 
consuls;  legati  Augusti  pro  praetoribus  who  are 
ex-praetors ;  procuratores  ;  praefecti  Aegypti,  etc. 
Examples  of  Imperial  provinces  are  Syria,  the 
Gauls  (except  Narbouensis),  Judaea,  and  Egypt. 
These  governors  were  all  accountable  to  the 
Emperor,  being  put  in  charge  of  his  provinces,  but 
were  by  no  means  of  equal  rank.  The  legati  were 
always  members  of  the  Senate,  but  the  others 
were  of  the  lower  rank  of  cquites.  It  was  to  this 
class  that  Pilate  belonged  (Mt  27.  28 ;  see  under 
Procurator,  Pilate).  Every  senator,  being  a 
member  of  the  same  class  as  the  Emjieror  himself, 
was  a  possible  rival  to  him  ;  those  of  inferior  rank 
were  practically  in  the  position  of  his  servants. 

Governors  of  provinces  had  certain  powers  of 
jurisdiction  delegated  to  them,  which  it  is  now 
impossible  accurately  to  define.  These  were  em- 
bodied in  numdata  given  to  them  before  setting 
out.  They  were  also,  of  course,  influenced  by  the 
traditions  of  the  province  to  which  they  were 
going.  They  administered  the  law  with  a  com- 
petence and  a  justice  which  have  never  been 
surpassed.  As  the  provinces  had  an  appeal  from 
their  decisions  to  the  Senate  in  the  case  of 
Senatorial  provinces,  and  to  the  Emperor  in  the 
case  of  Imperial,  it  was  dangerous  for  a  governor 
to  go  against  the  strongly  expressed  Avish  of  the 
subieots  of  Rome.  A  procurator,  for  example, 
could  be  cast  aside  bv  the  Emperor  and  ruined  for 
life,  without  the  slightest  chance  of  redress. 

Governors  were  commonly  changed  annually. 
The  emperor  Tiberius,  however,  retained  many 
governors  for  a  number  of  years  in  one  position, 
and  he  also  instituted  the  custom  of  payment  of 
definite  salaries  to  such,  thus  doing  away  \vith  the 
necessity  for  plunder  in  order  to  recoup  themselves. 
The  Koraan  system  was  sufficiontly  elastic  to 
permit  the  appointment  of  otti- .r-'  f,ir  speiiul 
service  and  the  suspension  of  tin'  iv-nlar  onlcr 
of  things.  It  was  probably  uniler  an  arnuiLjeinent 
of  this  kind  that  P.  Sulpicius  yuirinius  was 
'governor  of  SjTia'  (Lk  2=)  in  A.D.  6-9  (Ramsay, 
IVas  Christ  Born  at  Bethlehem  ?  ch.  xi.),  in  order  to 
can-y  on  a  campaign  against  the  Horaonadenses, 
and  leave  the  ordinary  governor  free  for  civil 
duties.     See  art.  Birth  of  Christ. 

In  Mt  lO's,  Mk  13',  and  Lk  21i=  'kings'  are 
coupled  with  'governors.'  The  reference  here  is 
to  'client-kings'  of  the  Roman  empire  (such  as 
Herod)  as  well  as  the  ordinary  governors.  The 
territory  ruled  by  such  kings  was  part  of  the 
imperium  Romamim  in  the  fullest  sense  of  that 
term.  In  other  words,  the  Romans  had  suzerainty 
over  these  kingdoms  ;  but  they  left  them  under 
the  rule  of  their  kings  until  they  were  sufficiently 
civilized  to  become  ordinary  provinces  under 
ordinary  governors.  Then  they  were  taken  over. 
In  Lk  21^  the  'kings'  are  mentioned  before  the 
'governors.'  If  this  change  is  not  accidental,  it 
would  appear  that  St.  Luke  wished  paaCKiX,  to  be 
understood  in  the  sense  of  'emperors,'  a  sense 
quite  in  accordance  with  the  Greek.  The  plural 
need  be  no  difficulty,  as  it  was  the  common  practice 
for  emperors  to  have  their  successors  invested  with 
the  imperatorial  powers,  while  they  themselves 
were  still  alive  and  active. 

LrrERiTDRK.  —  H.  F.  Pelhani,  Outlines  of  Roman  HiMory, 
bk.  V.  ch.  iii. ;  J.  B.  Bury,  A  History  of  the  liotnan  Empire.^ 
ch.  vi. ;  A.  H.  J.  Greenidge,  Roman  P'vhlic  Life,  ch.  xi. ;  for 
the  regular  course  of  an  administrative  career,  see  R.  Ca{;:nat, 
Cottrs  d'Epigraphie  LallneS  (1898,  with  Supplement  1904), 
pp.  86-155 ;  Schurer,  BJP  i.  ii.  43-48. 

Alex.  Souter, 


GRACE  (xdpis)-— The  Gr.  x"/"'.  with  which 
'  grace '  in  Eng.  fully  corresponds,  is  one  of  those 
words  (ef.  dyandu,  dydir-q,  '  love ')  which  have  been 
raised  to  a  higher  power  and  filled  with  a  pro- 
founder  content  by  the  revelation  of  Jesus  Christ. 
In  accordance  with  its  derivation  from  -xalpw,  it 
originally  signified  in  classical  Gr.  something  that 
gives  joy  or  delight,  hence  charm  or  wiiisomeness. 
I'roiii  this  it  came  to  be  used  in  a  subjective  sense 
of  a  tuurleous,  kindly,  or,  as  we  say,  a  '  gracious ' 
dispusit  iun  ;  and  so  became  equivalent  to  goodwill 
or  favour.  From  the  sense  of  favour  as  an  atti- 
tude of  will  and  feeling,  the  transition  was  natural 
to  '  a  favour,'  a  concrete  token  of  kindness  and 
goodwill.  Finally,  as  grace  implies  not  only  a 
giver  but  a  receiver,  it  was  employed  to  denote 
the  gratitude  felt  by  the  latter  for  the  favoui-  be- 
stowed, and  the  thanks  by  which  gratitude  is  ex- 
pressed (cf.  the  Eng.  phrase  '  grace  before  meat '). 
in  nearly  all  these  senses  the  word  is  found  both 
in  the  LXX  and  the  NT.  But,  while  the  LXX 
does  not  carry  us  beyond  the  point  reached  in  the 
classical  authors,  when  we  pass  to  the  NT  the  old 
meanings  of  x^P's  are  wonderfully  enlarged,  until, 
as  Creiner  saj-s  (Lex.  s.i\),  'it  has  become  quite  a 
different  word  in  NT  Greek,  so  that  we  may  say 
it  depended  upon  Christianity  to  realize  its  full 
meaning  and  to  elevate  it  to  its  rightful  sphere.' 

1.  Grace  in  the  Gospels.— In  AV  of  the  Gospels, 
'  grace '  occurs  only  4  times,  once  in  Lk.  (•2*')  and 
thrice  in  Jn.  (1"-  ■"•  ").  When  we  turn  to  the  RV, 
however,  and  include  the  marginal  readings,  we 
find  the  word  in  4  other  Lukan  passages.  Thrice 
it  is  used  as  a  marginal  alternative  for  '  favour '  or 
'  favoured  '  (Lk  1^-  '"  2^-),  while  in  one  important 
passage  (4~)  '  words  of  grace '  is  substituted  for 
'  gi-acious  words.'  In  every  case,  both  in  Lk.  and 
Jn. ,  the  corresponding  Gr.  word  is  x^P">  with  the 
exception  of  Lk  1^  wliere  the  derivative  vb.  xapiriu 
is  used.  Besides  these  passages  in  which  either  in 
AV  or  RV  it  is  rendered  'grace,'  x"/"'  occurs  4 
times  in  Lk.  (6*--  ^-  **  17")  in  the  sense  of  '  thanks." 

( I )  AVe  observe  that  grace  is  not  a  word  or  idea 
that  is  n^ed  by  the  Synoptists  generally,  St.  Luke 
luiuu  till'  only  one  who  employs  it.  It  is  also 
worthy  of  notice  that  the  term  is  not  one  which 
the  Evangelist  ever  attributes  to  Jesus  Himself. 
It  is  true  that  he  represents  Jesus  as  using  xap'S  •* 
times,  but  only  in  the  ordinary  colloquial  sense  of 
thanks.  Thus,  although  x<ip's  oi'  'grace'  was  to 
undergo  something  like  a  transfiguration  through 
the  influence  of  Christianity,  and  indeed  was  to 
become  not  only  a  specifically  Christian  word,  but 
a  word  of  which  we  might  say  that  it  shines  like  a 
jewel  on  the  brow  of  Christ  Himself,  whose  life 
and  death  and  teaching  gave  birth  to  the  ideas 
which  it  has  come  to  express,  it  is  not  a  term 
which  we  find  in  any  of  our  Lord's  recorded  utter- 
ances. 

In  4  out  of  the  5  Lukan  passages  in  which 
'  grace '  occurs,  it  has  the  ordinary  sense  of 
'  favour.'  Twice  the  Virgin  ilary  is  declared 
to  have  been  the  object  of  the  Divine  favour  (Lk 
1-8-  ™).  Of  Jesus  it  is  said  in  one  passage  that  the 
grace  (or  favour)  of  God  was  upon  Him  (2^°),  and  in 
another  that  He  advanced  in  favour  (or  grace) 
M-ith  both  God  and  men  (2").  The  remaining 
passage  (4-)  is  the  only  Synoptic  one  which  may 
possibly  caiTy  us  on  to'  the  peculiar  Christian  sig- 
nificance of  "the  word.  When  Jesus  preached  His 
first  sermon  in  the  synagogue  at  Nazareth,  His 
fellow-townsmen  are  said  to  have  wondered  iiri 
Tois  X6701S  TTj^  x'tp"''"-  AV  renders  '  at  the  gracious 
words ' ;  RV,  more  literally,  '  at  the  words  of 
grace.'  But  what  does  the  expression  mean  ? 
Does  it  point  merely,  as  has  commonly  been  sup- 
posed, to  our  Lord's  winsomeness  and  charm  as  a 
speaker,  His  grace  of  manner,  His  possession  of 


GRACE 


687 


one  of  tlie  most  ell'ective  of  the  gifts  of  an  orator  '! 
Or  is  xapLTos  to  be  taken  not  as  a  Hebraistic  gen. 
of  quality,  but  as  an  objective  gen.,  so  that  'words 
of  grace  '  = '  words  aboiit  grace '  't  It  is  not  impos- 
sible that  by  this  jjlirase,  which  is  thus  capable  of  a 
double  interpretation,  St.  Luke  intended  to  convey 
a  twofold  meaning,  and  to  let  his  readers  under- 
stand that  the  words  of  Christ,  as  Dr.  Bruce  puts 
it,  were  '  words  of  grace  about  grace '  (Exp.  Gr. 
I'est.  in  loc. ).  In  any  case,  however,  it  seems  pro- 
bable that  the  objective  meaning  was  the  one 
immediately  before  the  Evangelist's  mind.  The 
fact  that  genitives  of  quality  are  frequent  in  writ- 
ings influenced  by  Heb.,  and  that  parallels  to  the 
use  of  xapis  to  denote  the  quality  of  charm  in  a 
speaker  can  be  adduced  not  only  from  the  LXX 
(Ec  10'=,  Ps  44^  Sir  21i«),  but  from  the  classical 
authors  (Hom.  Od.  viii.  175  ;  Dem.  Orat.  li.  9), 
weighs  little  in  comparison  with  the  analogies 
ottered  by  the  usage  of  St.  Luke  himself  in  Acts. 
It  is  admitted  tliat  \6yoi  riji  xi^P'to'  avrov  (Ac  14^ 
20*=)  means  the  message  of  salvation,  and  that  ri 
6ua77^\iov  rrjs  xapiTos  toO  6eoO  (20=*)  means  the  gospel 
of  the  grace  of  God  in  the  full  Pauline  and  Chris- 
tian sense  of  the  expression.  Moreover,  the  text 
from  which  our  Lord  preached  His  Nazareth  ser- 
mon (Lk  418- '»,  cf.  Is  61'--')  lends  itself  mo.st 
readily  to  this  larger  interpretation,  and  so  do 
the  opening  words  of  the  sermon  itself,  '  This 
day  hath  this  Scripture  been  fulfilled  in  your  ears ' 
(v.=').  Noteworthy,  too,  in  this  connexion  is  the 
fact  that  in  quoting  tlie  glowing  words  of  the 
Evangelical  prophet  regarding  '  the  acceptable 
year  of  the  Lord,'  Jesus  made  the  utterance  still 
more  gracious  by  omitting  any  reference  to  a 
coming  day  of  Bivine  vengeance  (cf.  v.'''  with  Is 
61=).  But,  above  all,  we  must  bear  in  mind  that 
whether  the  Third  Gospel  was  written  or  not  by 
Luke  the  companion  of  St.  Paul,  it  is  matter  of 
common  consent  that  strong  Pauline  influences 
run  through  it,  and  that  more  than  any  other  it 
gives  prominence  to  those  aspects  of  our  Lord's 
life  and  teaching  which  present  His  gospel  as  a 
message  of  Divine  grace.  This  is  the  Gospel  of 
the  publican  {W<^-  19=ff-),  of  the  'woman  which 
was  in  the  city,  a  sinner '  (7^™'),  of  the  malefactor 
forgiven  even  as  he  hung  upon  his  cross  (23^'"f-). 
Above  all,  it  is  the  gospel  of  the  gi-eat  '  Parables 
of  Grace ' — the  Lost  Coin,  tlie  Lost  Sheep,  the 
Prodigal  Son  (15).  It  seems  natural,  therefore, 
to  conclude  that  the  Evangelist,  on  whom  Christ's 
grace  to  the  sinful  had  made  so  deep  an  impres- 
sion, intended  in  this  '  frontispiece '  to  his  story  of 
our  Lord's  public  ministry,  when  he  described  the 
listeners  in  the  synagogue  as  wondering  at  '  the 
words  of  grace  which  proceeded  out  of  his  mouth,' 
to  set  Jesus  before  us  not  merely  as  a  winning 
speaker,  but  as  the  anointed  herald  of  the  grace  of 
God.     See  also  art.  Graciousne.ss. 

(2)  When  we  come  to  the  Fourth  Gospel,  we  find 
that  in  the  Prologue  the  word  '  grace,'  no  doubt 
through  the  Pauline  teaching  and  its  consequences, 
has  blossomed  fully  into  those  greater  meanings 
with  which  the  Church  had  become  familiar.*  In 
1"  the  author  describes  the  Incarnate  Logos  as 
'  full  of  grace  and  truth '  in  His  revelation  of  the 
Father's  glory.  The  phrase  recalls  the  frequent 
OT  combination  of  '  mercy  and  truth '  (ncxi  ten, 
LXX  Aeos  Koi  dX^flcia)  as  a  summary  description  of 

•  It  is  worthy  of  remark  that  while  in  the  Proloffue  x^fi;  appears 
as  a  fundamental  note  of  the  revelation  of  Jesus  Christ,  the 
word  is  not  used  elsewhere  in  the  work.  In  the  rest  of  his 
Gospel,  as  m  his  Epistles,  the  author  prefers  the  idea  of  love 
(316  131,  1  jn  316  and  constantly).  Like  the  Synoptists,  he  never 
once  puts  x<^pt^  into  the  mouth  of  Jesus,  not  even  in  a  passatre 
like  719-23  (cf.  61018),  „here  Jesus  is  speaking  of  His  relation  to 
the  law  of  Moses.  Does  this  not  ro  to  support  the  essential 
historicity  of    Christ's   teaching   as    reported    in  the   Fourth 


Jehovah's  character  (Ex  34»,  Ps  251"  §510  ggu  gtg_)_ 
But  the  grace  of  Christ  in  the  NT  is  something 
more  than  the  mercy  of  God  in  the  OT.  It  is 
remarkable  that  in  the  LXX  x^p"  i«  not  considered 
a  rich  enough  word  to  render  the  Hfli.  -irn.  There 
Xdfn!  signilies  the  Divine  kinclin'^>  or  f^nimr  (c-on-e- 
sponding  to  Heb.  ]n,  cf.  Gn  IS'  ,iih1  /.".'/,/),  Irat  is 
not  used  of  those  energies  wlii.li  lirluu:;  [.luperly 
to  the  sphere  of  redemption.  I'or  the  icm  ur  mercy 
of  God  the  word  eXeos  is  employed  ;  so  that  in  the 
LXX  ^Xfds  may  be  said  to  be  a  stronger  and  richer 
word  than  xapis-  AVhen  we  come  to  the  NT,  how- 
ever, the  case  is  reversed,  x^ip's.  as  applied  to  the 
Christian  coiiLeption  of  grace,  has  become  a  grander 
word  than  flvcos ;  for  while  ?\eos  denotes  the  Divine 
compassion  in  the  presence  of  man's  pain  and 
misery,  xa/"s  is  used  to  express  God's  attitude  to 
man's  sin.  It  is  more  than  a  Divine  attribute, 
although  it  is  that.  It  is  the  sum  of  those  Divine 
forces  from  which  our  salvation  flows. 

In  v.i"  the  Evangelist  says  that  out  of  Christ's 
fulness  we  all  received,  '  anil  grace  for  grace  '  (xap'" 
avTi  xdpiTos).  In  its  general  u.se,  as  we  have  seen, 
Xdpis  pas.ses  from  a  dispiisition  of  goodwill  to  be 
applied  to  the  blessin-s  whi.h  L^cMichvill  bestows. 
Here  the  reference  i^  t^  1  h.-  I.li-,iii-s  uf  the  Chris- 
tian salvation.  Clui~t  ,s  lulm-,-.  i>  inexhaustible, 
and  His  grace  is  constantly  bcsLuwing  itself  upon 
His  followers.  But  '  grace  for  grace '  does  not 
mean  merely  '  grace  upon  grace ' — one  grace  added 
to  another.  The  force  of  the  avrl  is  not  to  be 
neglected.  In  the  next  verse  the  author  is  going 
to  contrast  the  NT  system  of  grace  with  the  legal 
system  of  the  OT.  And  here,  by  a  bold  use  of 
language,  he  applies  to  the  economy  of  grace  the 
very  formula  of  the  opposite  dispensation,  so  as 
the  better  to  bring  out  its  •  complete  gratuitous- 
ness '  (Godet,  Com.  on  Jn.  in  loc).  Under  the 
Law,  with  its  system  of  exchanges,  a  blessing  was 
received  as  the  reward  of  (ivrl)  merit,  but  under 
the  gospel  it  is  Christ's  free  grace  itself,  received 
and  appropriated,  which  becomes  our  title  to  fresh 
and  larger  bestowals. 

'  For  the  law  was  given  by  Moses,'  adds  the 
Evangelist ;  '  grace  and  trutli  came  bj'  Jesus 
Christ'  (v.i').  Here  we  have  the  justification  of 
what  we  said  above  as  to  the  x^"/"'  ""'  dX-ijfleia  of 
the  NT  being  much  more  than  the  ?Xeos  Kai  a\ri$ei.a 
of  the  OT.  The  Divine  mercy  (Aeoj)  was  an 
essential  part  of  the  OT  revelation.  It  was  on 
Sinai  itself,  and  in  connexion  with  the  giving  of 
the  tables  of  the  Law,  that  God  revealed  Himself 
to  Moses  as  '  a  God  full  of  compassion  and  gracious, 
slow  to  anger,  and  plenteous  in  mercy  and  truth ' 
(Ex  34^).  But  in  comparison  with  the  glory  of 
the  Christian  revelation,  the  revelation  to  Moses 
was  legal  and  hard.  It  lacked  that  element  of 
spontaneous  favour  towards  the  sinful,  and  aj^art 
from  every  thought  of  merit  gained  by  obedience, 
which  belongs  to  the  very  essence  of  grace  as  we 
know  it  in  Jesus  Christ. 

2.  The  grace  of  Christ  in  the  Pauline  Epistles. 
— In  discussing  the  meaning  of  grace  in  the  Third 
and  Fourth  Gospels,  we  have  been  obliged  to 
anticipate  in  part  what  has  now  to  be  said  about 
the  Pauline  teacliing.  For  there  can  be  no  doubt 
that  in  tlie  minds  of  both  Evangelists  that  teach- 
ing was  subsumed.  It  was  the  use  which  St.  Paul 
had  made  of  the  word  that  determined  its  signifi- 
cance for  Christianity  ever  afterwards. 

(1)  And  first  we  notice  that  when  the  Apostle 
speaks  of  grace,  he  is  invariably  thinking  of  Jesus 
Christ  in  connexion  with  it.  Most  frequently  it  is 
the  grace  of  God  that  he  names  ;  for  God  the 
Father  is  always  recognized  as  the  primal  fountain 
of  all  the  blessings  of  the  Christian  salvation,  and 
no  greater  misrepresentation  can  be  made  of  St. 
Paul's  gospel  than  to  describe  him  as  bringing  the 


GKACE 


GKACE 


grace  that  is  in  Christ  into  somu  l^iuJ  m1'  i.|iinisition 
to  the  justice  that  is  in  Goil.  Smii,  tiim--  a,:,'ain 
i]  x<'/"s  stands  alone;  for  the  A|iii-il.'  ti.:ii>  it  at 
times  not  merely  as  a  Divine  uunijuic,  Imt  :ls  the 
operative  principle  of  the  wiiole  economy  of  re- 
demption. But  as  it  is  Christ  who  embodies  tliis 
great  principle  in  His  own  person,  as  it  is  in  Him 
that  the  Father's  gi'ace  is  revealed,  and  by  Hiui 
that  it  is  mediated  to  men  ;  as,  to  use  his  own 
words,  '  the  grace  of  God  was  given  you  in  Christ 
Jesus'  (1  Co  1^),  and  'grace  reigns  through  Jesus 
Christ  our  Lord '  (Ro  5'-'),  he  does  not  hesitate  to 
speak  of  it  again  and  again,  and  especially  in  the 
benedictions  with  which  he  concludes  his  Epp.,  as 
'  the  grace  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ '  (Ro  16-",  1  Co 
16=3,  2  Co  13",  Gal  B's  etc. ;  cf.  the  opening  saluta- 
tions, Ro  1',  1  Co  P,  2  Co  12,  Gal  P  etc.). 

(2)  When  we  ask  how  St.  Paul  arrived  at  this 
distinctive  conception  of  the  Christian  gospel  as  an 
economy  of  grace,  and  of  Jesus  Christ  as  the  dis- 
penser of  grace,  the  answer  undoubtedly  is  that  he 
owed  it  to  that  revelation  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Him- 
self near  the  gates  of  Damascus  by  wliich  his  whole 
life  was  suddenly  transformed.  'As  a  Pharisee  he 
had  sought  to  earn  salvation  by  his  zeal  for  the 
Law.  But  everything  he  Iiad  done  had  proved 
inett'ectual.  The  commanduient  which  was  unto 
life  he  found  to  be  unto  death  (Ro  7'").  Nay,  in 
his  endeavours  to  be  exceedingly  zealous  according 
to  the  Law  he  had  been  led  into  the  greatest  sin 
of  his  career  —  his  furious  opposition  to  Jesus 
Christ,  his  savage  persecution  of  the  saints.  Then 
came  the  great,  astonishing  act  of  spontaneous 
grace.  Christ  appeared  in  person  to  this  bitter 
enemy,  convincing  him  beyond  the  possibility  of 
doubt  that  that  Jesus  wliom  he  persecuted  was  no 
other  than  the  Lord  of  glory,  and  at  the  same  time 
addressing  him  in  those  tender  and  gracious  and 
yet  heart-shaking  words  of  reproach  and  appeal  by 
which  Saul  the  persecutor  was  turned  into  the  slave 
of  Christ.  From  that  day  Christ  was  to  Paul  the 
Lord  of  grace  no  less  than  the  I^ord  of  glory.  It 
was  the  grace  of  God  in  Christ,  and  that  grace 
alone,  which  had  called  him  and  saved  and  made 
him  what  he  was  (Gal  l'^,  l  Co  15").  And  that 
same  grace  which  had  redeemed  Paul  at  the  first 
was  with  him  all  along.  It  guided  him  in  the  path 
of  wisdom  (1  Co  3^").  It  enabled  him  to  be  more 
abundant  in  labours  than  all  others  (15'").  It 
taught  him  how  to  beliave  liimself  in  the  world 
(2  Co  1'2).  Ai.a  wl„.n  tl,..  nn. .-,..,.„.,•  ,.i  Satan 
came  to  bulli;t  liim.  .im^I  iir  ilni.c  lif„,uulit.  the 
Lord  that  this  ihiiiu  iin-li!  ]  |.;,i;,  i;  ^^,,-  ihr  Lord 
Himself  who  sai.l  t..  Hi-  -inaiit,  ■  Mv  Jiace  is 
sufficient  for  thee'  (li'"'-*). 

(3)  What  did  St.  Paul  understand  by  the  grace 
of  Christ,  as  he  used  tliat  term  in  his  fully  de- 
veloped teaching  ?  What  distinctive  contents  did 
he  put  into  this  great  Christian  idea,  which  he 
knew  in  his  own  experience  to  be  a  great  Christian 
fact  ?  (a)  We  shall  perhaps  find  our  best  starting- 
point  in  a  passage  in  which  he  sets  a  certain  Wew 
of  that  grace  before  the  Corintliians  as  one  with 
which  his  teaching  had  made  them  familiar.  He 
regards  it  as  an  act  of  astonis/iinr/  sclf-sacrificc. 
'For  ye  know,'  lie  writes,  '  the  grace  of  our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ,  that  tliough  he  was  rich,  yet  for  your 
sakes  he  became  poor,  that  ye  through'his  poverty 
might  become  ricli '  (2  Co  %\  How  much  was  in- 
volved in  this  self-sacrifice  he  shows  more  fully  in 
another  Epistle,  where  he  describes  it  .-is  a  self- 
emptying,  on  Christ's  part,  of  His  Divine  form, 
the  assumption  of  a  lowly  human  nature,  and  the 
rendering  of  a  lifelong  obedience  even  unto  the 
death  of  the  cross  (Ph  2?'-).  It  is  in  this  quality 
of  self-sacrifice  most  of  all  that  the  grace  of  Christ 
in  the  NT  diff'ers  from  the  mercy  of  God  as  revealed 
in  the  earlier  dispensation.     C'lirist's  grace  is  not 


merely  tlie  compassion  which  a  great  and  strong 
and  blessed  nature  feels  for  one  which  is  sinful  and 
sorrowful  and  weak.  It  is  the  self-renouncin»  love 
which  so  yearns  to  save  that  it  surrenders  all  the 
wealtli  that  is  its  own,  and  welcomes  all  tlie  poverty 
tiiat  is  another's.  It  is  that  luvc  wliicli  finds  its 
crowning  symbol,  as  it  found  it-  absolute  e.xpres- 
sioii,  ill  the  cross  of  our  Lord  Jesus  ( 'hrist.  '  I  am 
poor  and  needy,'  said  a  saint  of  the  OT,  '  yet  the 
Lord  thinketh  upon  me '  (Ps  40").  '  The  Son  of 
God,'  exclaims  St.  Paul,  '  loved  me,  and  gave  him- 
self up  for  me  '  (Gal  2-"). 

(6)  The  absolute  freencss  of  Christ's  grace  was 
another  element  in  the  Apostle's  conception.  This 
brings  us  to  his  characteristic  antithesis  between 
grace  and  law.  We  noticed  this  antithesis  already 
in  the  Prologue  to  the  Fourth  Gospel,  but  it  was 
St.  Paul  who  first  formulated  it  when  he  >vrote, 
'  Ye  are  not  under  law,  but  under  grace  '  (Ro  &*). 
Formerly  the  Divine  blessings  were  secured  by 
obedience  to  the  Law.  Righteousness  was  the 
fruit  of  works,  and  rewards  were  reckoned  not  as 
of  grace,  but  as  of  debt  (Ro  4^).  But  now  we  are 
'justified  freely  (Supeav)  by  his  grace  through  the 
redemption  that  is  in  Christ  Jesus'  (Ro  3-^).  The 
grace  that  .saves  us  has  nothing  to  do  with  works 
(Ro  11°) ;  it  is  the  'free  gift'  of  God  by  '  the  one 
man,  Jesus  Christ '  (Ro  51^,  cf.  Eph  2*). 

(c)  Again,  Christ's  grace,  in  St.  Paul's  view  of  it, 
was  marked  by  its  sin-eonquering  power.  Besides 
the  great  antithesis  between  grace  with  its  free 
gifts  on  the  one  hand,  and  the  Law  with  its  works 
and  debts  on  the  other,  we  have  in  the  Apostle's 
teaching  a  further  antithesis  between  grace  and 
sin.  This  antithesis  follows  of  necessity  from  the 
former  one,  for  it  is  the  fact  of  the  Law  that  leads 
to  the  imputation  of  sin  (Ro  5'^),  and  it  is  the 
coming  in  of  the  Law  that  causes  trespasses  to 
abound  (v.*).  But  that  same  grace  of  Christ  which 
rises  superior  to  the  Law  shows  its  power  to  master 
the  sin  which  is  the  transgression  of  the  Law. 
'  Where  sin  abounded,  grace  did  abound  more 
exceedingly'  (ib.).  And  this  superabundance  of 
grace  over  sin  is  manifested  in  two  distinct  ways  : 
(a)  It  removes  the  guilt  of  sin  and  the  dread  conse- 
quences which  flow  from  guiltiness.  This  it  does 
by  not  only  forgiving  the  sinner  (Eph  1'),  but  jus- 
tifying him  freely  (Ro  S-""),  bestowing  upon  him  the 
gift  of  righteousness  (Gal  2-'),  and  giving  him  the 
assurance  that  as  sin  reined  unto  death,  even  so 
shall  grace  reign  through  righteousness  unto  eternal 
life  (Ro  5-').  (^)  It  breaks  the  dominion  of  sin  over 
the  sinner's  heart.  The  antinomian  indeed  may  say, 
'  Let  us  continue  in  sin,  that  grace  may  abound.' 
But  St.  Paul's  answer  is,  '  God  forbid  ! '  (Ro  6=,  cf. 

').  The  free  gift  bestowed  by  the  grace  of  the 
■""'  ■         ■"'     't  an  '  abundance  of 

tilings  included  in 
^•■■itli  to  sin  and  a 
1  I  liat  we  are  not 
,  implies  that  sin's 
,  and  that  we  have 


One  Man  (5")  carries  within 

grace'  (v.").     Anf 

this  abundance  of 

life  unto  God  (6-' 

under  the  Law,  bii 

tyranny  over  us  is 

been  set  free  from  it  (v.")  for  a  life  of  righteousness 

and  holiness  in  the  service  of  God  (vv.'*-  ~). 

(d)  Finally,  we  may  say  that  in  the  Pauline 
teacliiiiL;-  the  -race  of  Plirist,  the  'riches  of  his 
grace'  a~  ive  lia\e  it  iu  Kph.  (1"),  stood  for  the 
xtuii-lut.il  i.f  <iU  clii-i.-ili'iii  blessings.  There  is  an 
aliundiince  and  sii|"'raliuiidance  in  grace  (Ro  5"-  ^, 
2  Co  4'=).  which  makes  it  a  stream  of  endless  bene- 
faction flowing  from  an  inexhaustible  fountain. 
Christ's  riches  are  unsearchable  (Eph  3"),  but  all 
that  Christ  is  His  grace  is,  for  grace  is  the  most 
essential  quality  of  His  being,  while  He  Himself 
is  the  very  incarnation  of  everything  we  mean  by 
grace.  We  are  called  by  grace  (Gal  1"),  and  jus- 
tified by  grace  (Ro  3^),  and  sanctified  by  grace 
(6''').     Through  grace  also  we  obtain  eternal  com- 


I 


GRACIOUSNESS 


GRACIOUSNESS 


fort  and  good  hope  (2  Tli  2«),  and  strength  (2  Ti 
2'),  and  liberality  (2  Co  8'),  and  happy  songs  (Col 
3'*).  And  so  it  was  the  great  Apostle's  custom, 
when  he  would  gather  up  into  a  single  word  all  his 
wishes  and  hopes  and  prayers  for  the  Churches,  to 
say,  '  The  grace  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  be  with 
you  all '  (2  Th  3«  Ro  16"  ;  cf.  1  Co  16=^  etc.).* 

3.  The  grace  of  Christ  in  the  rest  of  the  NT.— 
The  material  here  is  very  much  scantier  than  in 
the  Pauline  writings,  but  it  is  quite  sufficient  to 
show  how  deeply  tlie  great  I'auline  word  had  lodged 
itself  in  the  general  Christian  mind.  It  is  true 
that  we  do  not  tind  grace  defined  as  to  its  nature 
by  those  antitheses  of  law  and  works  and  sin  which 
give  the  Pauline  conception  its  peculiar  colouring, 
but  the  word  is  still  used  to  express  the  Divine 
favour  as  revealed  in  Christ,  and  those  saving 
blessings  of  which  He  is  the  Mediator.  The  chief 
relevant  passages  in  Acts  have  been  referred  to 
already  in  connexion  with  the  usage  of  the  Third 
Evangelist.  In  1  Peter  we  find  the  grace  of  salva- 
tion made  to  depend  on  the  revelation  of  Jesus 
Christ,  and  associated  in  particular  with  the 
Saviour's  suft'erings  and  the  glories  that  followed 
them  (P"").  The  author  of  2  Peter  exhorts  his 
readers  to  '  grow  in  the  grace  and  knowledge  of 
our  Lord  and  Saviour  Jeisus  Christ'  (3'*).  In 
Hebrews  the  fact  that  Jesus  is  our  great  High 
Priest  is  urged  as  the  reason  wliy  we  should  draw 
near  with  boldness  unto  the  '  throne  of  grace ' 
(4"-"')  ;  and  the  treading  under  foot  of  the  Son  of 
God  is  regarded  as  equivalent  to  doing  despite  to 
'the  Spirit  of  grace'  (10'"-').  As  in  the  Fourth 
Gospel  apart  from  the  Prologue,  so  in  the  other 
Johannine  ^vlitings,  love  takes  the  place  held  by 
the  idea  of  grace  in  the  Pauline  teaching.  But 
the  familiarity  of  the  thought  of  Christ's  grace  is 
shown  bv  its  appearance  in  tlie  fuinis  nf  salutation 
(2  Jn  3,  Rev  l'^  ^).  And  what  cunld  be  more  fitting 
than  that  the  NT  as  a  whole,  of  whieli  grace  is 
the  distinctive  watchword,  and  over  every  page  of 
which  we  might  inscribe  the  words  '  Crace  reigns,' 
should  conclude,  in  the  last  sentence  of  the  Apoca- 
lypse, with  the  benediction,  '  The  grace  of  the 
Lord  Jesus  be  with  the  saints  '  (Rev  22-')  ? 

LiTKRATURE.— The  Lexx.  of  Liddell  and  Scott,  Grimm-Thayer, 
and  Crenier,  s.v.  j;«/".- ;  Hastings'  DB,  art.  'Grace';  PRE 3, 
art.  'Gnade' ;  Weiss,  Bibl.  Thenl.  of  NT,  Index,  s.v.,  but  esp. 
i.  385  fF.;  Dieckmann,  Die  cfiristtichii  Lehre  von  der  Gnade 
(Berlin,  1901) ;  Wells,  artt.  on  ■  Grace '  in  ExpT,  viii.  ix.  [1897] ; 
Bruce,  Expos.  Gr.  Test,  ad  Lk  4",  Gaiikan  Gusp.  oh.  ii.  ;  Dale, 
Ephesiaiis,  ch.  x.  ;  Expositor,  i.  xii.  [1880)  p.  86  ff.,  v.  ix.  [1899] 

p- 161  «■  J.  C.  Lambert. 

GRACIOUSNESS.  —  The  word  '  graciousness ' 
does  not  occur  in  the  EV  of  the  Gospels.  The 
adjective  'gracious'  occurs  only  once  (Lk  4=^)  j,, 
the  AV  and  not  at  all  in  the  RV.  The  idea,  how- 
ever, covered  by  the  noun  is  of  very  frequent 
occurrence,  and  may  truly  be  said  to  be  one  of  the 
leading  characteristics  of  Jesus  Himself,  and  of 
the  gospel  He  came  to  proclaim. 

1.  The  passage  Lk  4-=  is  rendered  in  the  AV, 
'  And  all  bare  him  witness,  and  wondered  at  the 
gracious  words  which  proceeded  out  of  his  mouth.' 
The  RV  keeps  more  closely  to  the  form  of  the  Gr. 
expression,  and  renders  '  wondered  at  the  words  of 
grace.'  In  so  doin^  it  departs  from  the  general 
practice  of  the  older  English  versions,  which  from 
Tindale  onwards  adopted  the  form  of  the  AV. 
Wyclif  and  the  Rhemish  version  support  the  ren- 
dering of  the  RV,  following  in  all  probability 
the  example  of  the  Vulg.  in  verbis  gratia:  which 

*  Besides  the  use  of  the  word  '  grace  'in  the  Pauline  Epp.  to 
designate  the  spontaneo\is  favour  of  God  to  sinners  as  revealed 
and  mediated  by  Jesus  Christ,  it  is  employed  in  various  deriva- 
tive senses,  such  as  (Ro  6=)  the  state  of  grace  (stadts  gratice),  a 
particular  gift  of  grace  (Eph  4'),  the  special  grace  required  for 
the  Apostolic  office  (Gal  28-  9,  Eph  3=-  7).  The  discussion  of  these, 
however,  lies  somewhat  beyond  the  scope  of  this  Dictionary. 


they  rendered  literally.  The  best  modern  version 
(Weymouth's)  paraphrases  and  expands  the  ex- 
pression thus,  'wondering  at  the  sweet  words  of 
kindness  which  fell  from  his  lips ' ;  while  Weiz- 
sacker's  admirable  German  version  translates 
.simply  die  liehlichen  Wortc.  The  best  rendering, 
where  the  phrase  is  thus  understood,  is  probably 
that  of  Plunimer,  '  winning  words.'  The  words  of 
the  original,  iirl  tois  \6yois  t^s  x'^P'''''">  suggest  such 
a  rendering,  since  the  original  meaning  of  xiip'Si  as 
it  is  found  in  (ir.  literature,  is  that  of  '  comeliness ' 
or  '  winsomeness  '  (see  tlie  Lexicons  for  examples). 
But  general,  popular,  and  attractive  as  sucfi  an 
interpretation  is,  another  is  probably  the  correct 
one.     See  preceding  article. 

2.  The  Gr.  word  xa/"s  occurs  on  several  other 
occasions  in  the  Gospels,  and  is  variously  rendered 
in  the  English  versions.  In  order  to  gain  a  clearer 
idea  of  its  meaning,  it  is  necessary  to  examine 
these.  Of  the  youthful  John  we  read  In  Lk  2-'"  '  the 
grace  of  God  was  upon  him,'  and  of  the  child  Jesus 
(2*2)  that  He  'advanced  in  favour  (RVm  'grace') 
with  God  and  men.'  Weymouth  uses  'favour'  in 
both  passages.  On  three  occasions,  in  Lk  6^-  ''•  *", 
we  have  the  expression,  'What  thank  have  ye?' 
representing  the  Gr.  iroia  i/uf  x<»/"s  icrTtv  ;  and  the 
same  sense  of  the  word  is  found  in  Lk  17^  The 
only  other  passage  in  the  Gospels  where  the  word 
occurs  is  in  the  prologue  to  the  Fourth  Gospel, 
where  it  is  found  three  times  (Jn  !"•  "*•  "),  and  is 
rendered  in  each  case  'grace.'     See  GRACE. 

3.  There  remains  for  us  to  see  how  the  quality 
of  'graciousness'  is  manifested  in  Jesus  during 
His  earthly  ministry.  Many  who  take  the  word 
'gracious'  of  Lk  4^  in  the  narrower  sense  noted 
above,  look  only  for  the  'graciousness'  of  our 
Lord  to  be  revealed  in  His  manner  of  dealing  with 
men,  in  His  outward  conduct  and  speech.  This 
view  is,  of  course,  true.  His  readiness  to  take 
part  in  all  the  festivities  and  social  functions  of 
everyday  life  marked  Him  ofl'  clearly  to  His  con- 
temporaries from  the  ascetic  attitude  of  John  the 
Baptist.  His  playful,  gentle  winsomeness  that 
won  the  children  to  His  knee  was  a  scandal  to  His 
disciples.  His  brotherly  attitude  towards  the 
diseased  and  stricken.  His  generous  help.  His 
readiness  of  sympathj;,  emboldened  leprous,  blind, 
and  ashamed  humanity  to  dare  tlie  publicity  it 
shrank  from,  or  the  menace  and  rebuke  of  the 
crowd,  to  cast  itself  at  His  feet,  and  tlirow  itself 
upon  His  gracious  consideration.  This  same  char- 
acteristic is  revealed  in  His  intimate  association 
with  the  household  at  Bethany,  and  His  special 
affection  for  John  and  Lazarus,  as  well  as  in  such 
exquisitely  human  touches  as  His  longing  look  of 
love  given  to  the  young  questioner  (Mk  10-'). 

'  Men  could  approach  near  to  Him,  could  eat  and  drink  with 
Him,  could  listen  to  His  talk,  and  ask  Him  questions,  and  they 
found  Him  not  accessible  only,  but  warm-hearted,  and  not 
occupied  so  much  with  His  own  plans  that  He  could  not  attend 
to  a  case  of  distress  or  mental  perplexity '  (Ecce  Homo,  ch.  6). 

This  peculiar  graciousness  was  displayed  in  such 
acts  as  washing  the  feet  of  His  disciples,  and  in 
His  patient  tolerance  of  the  scepticism  of  Thomas. 

But  when  we  go  deeper  than  form  of  speech  or 
nature  of  deed,  we  find  this  quality  still  more 
clearly  manifested.  If  'graciousness'  is  to  bear 
the  richer  meaning  we  have  seen  it  may  carry, 
then  its  significance  in  the  words  and  works  of 
Jesus  is  all  the  greater.  His  jjarables  {e.ff.  the 
Lost  Sheep,  the  Prodigal  Son,  the  Good  Samaritan), 
how  full  they  are  of  this  peculiar  quality  of  the 
Divine  revelation  !  His  conduct  to  sinful  men 
and  women,  how  sharply  did  it  contrast  with  the 
attitude  of  His  contemporaries  (Lk  "J^-^o,  Mk 
1035. 45J  I  jjjg  pi-ayer  for  His  enemies  shows  with 
wonderful  tenderness  how  this  spirit  did  not  desert 
Him  at  the  moment  of  greatest  trial,  how  inherent 


690 


GRAPES 


GREATNESS 


it  was,  therefore,  in  His  very  nature  (Lk  23**).  In 
His  thought  the  gracious  method  of  His  treatment 
of  men  was  to  become  a  general  standard  of  con- 
duct (Jn  13">),  and  would  even  constitute  the  basis 
of  final  judgment  (Mt  25«).  It  should  not  be 
overlooked  that,  while  St.  Luke  is  the  Evangelist 
who  most  frequently  and  clearly  reveals  this  cliar- 
acteristic  of  Jesus,  and  dwells  most  distinctly  upon 
it,  each  of  the  others  supplies  sufficient  evidence  to 
prove  that  St.  Luke's  picture  is  no  imaginary  one, 
nor  even  his  emphasis  exaggerated.     See  Gbace. 


:itt<d, 


ed.) 


ii-13 ;  Tlu-  / 

Eoss,    The    7',,r,' 

Brooks,  The  Iiiflur.m-c  nf  J. 
iiuj  of  Jesiis  (fin{^. 


ifs  on  the  passaj^es 
,  I'.,  and  J.  Weiss  (8tli 
mdnction  in  Centnry 
Thayer  and  Crenier, 


]:?£:.. 


Wendt,  The  Teach- 
,     „         ,.  ..  ;  Bruce,  Galilean 

artt.  '  Grace '  and  '  Gracious '  in  Hastin}^'  DB, 

G.  CuRRiE  Martin. 
GRAPES.-See  AVine. 

GRASS.— In  the  OT  tliere  are  several  Heb.  words 
which  are  translated  'grass,'  but  tliey  are  all  very 
general  terms  ;  in  the  NT  the  only  word  so  trans- 
lated is  x^p'''"^-  Strictly  speaking,  no  plant  should 
be  called  a  grass  unless  it  belongs  to  the  botanical 
order  Gramincie,  but  tliis  is  a  comparatively  modern 
distinction.  The  Biblical  writers  do  not,  of  course, 
employ  the  term  with  scientific  precision.  The 
modern  Arab  includes,  under  the  common  desig- 
nation hashish  (grass),  field-flowers  such  as  ane- 
mones, poppies,  and  tulips.  If,  as  is  probable,  it 
was  in  tliis  wider  sense  that  Christ  and  His  con- 
temporaries used  the  word,  it  lends  new  point  and 
cliarm  to  His  appeal,  '  If  God  so  clothe  the  grass 
of  the  field '  (Mt  6*),  and  invests  with  fresh  beauty 
the  familiar  words,  '  All  flesh  is  grass,  and  all  tlie 
glory  thereof  as  the  flower  of  grass'  (1  P  1=^  RV  ; 
cf.  Jal"-"). 

The  true  grasses  of  Palestine  are  very  numerous  ; 
Dr.  Post  gives  the  figures  for  Palestine  and  Syria 
as  90  genera  and  243  species  (Hastings'  DB  ii.  258). 
Pasture  grasses  vary  greatly  in  quality  and  pro- 
fusion according  to  climate,  soil,  and  elevation. 
Turf  is  rare.  Grass  is  much  used  as  fuel  (Mt  6*), 
especially  in  districts  where  wood  is  scarce  (see 
OvEx).  Hugh  Duncan. 

GRAYE.-See  Tomb. 

GRAVE-CLOTHES.-Tl,..  ar.cunt  in  the  Gospels 
of  the  (■irrmii-.taiH'es  atli-jMlinu  the  burial  of  our 
Lcml  illustivitrs  fully  llip  -riHT.il  practice  of  the 
tiiiir  with  rc-aril  to  -rave-ch.tlies.  The  body  of 
Jesus,  doubtless  after  being  bathed,  after  the 
manner  of  the  Jews  as  well  as  of  the  Greeks  (Ac 
!)",  cf,  Gospel  of  Peter,  6),  was  'wrapped'  (^xfriiXt^ei/, 
Mt27™,  Lk23«')  or  'swathed'  (ivd\r,<r€v,  Mk  15«) 
in  the  sliroud  of  linen  cloth  [(^tvdin/i.)  which  Joseph 
of  Arimatlu-ea  had  procured  on  his  way  back  to 
Golgotha,  and  whicli  is  described  as  '  fresli '  or 
'  unused '  {KaOap^,  Mt  27''),  in  accordance  with  the 
sacred  use  to  which  it  was  put  (cf.  Mk  ll'-').  Spices 
were  next  crumbled  between  tlie  folds  of  the  linen 
{fifTo.  ruv  apwixiruv,  Jn  19"),  and  the  whole  was 
then  bound  together  with  strips  of  cloth  (iBovloi^, 
Jn  19* ;  cf.  Kuplai.i,  Jn  11").  "riie  face  was  covered 
with  a  separate  face-cloth  or  '  napkin '  (t6  aovSaptov, 
Jn20'). 

In  later  Judaism  it  was  held  that  the  resem- 
blance of  the  future  to  the  present  body  was  so 
close  that  men  would  rise  in  the  same  clothes  in 
which  they  were  Ijuried,  on  tlie  analogy  of  the 
grain  of  corn  which  comes  up  from  the  earth  not 
naked,  but  clothed  (cf.  1  Co  15^').  An<l  accord- 
ingly the  Rabbis  were  in  tlie  habit  of  giving  care- 
ful directions  as  to  their  grave-clothes  (\Veber, 
Jiid.  ThroL-  p.  3711).     This  frequently  led,  however. 


to  such  unnecessary  expense  in  the  way  of  luxuiions 
wrappings,  that  by  way  of  protest  Rabbi  Gamaliel 
left  directions  that  he  was  to  be  buried  in  simple 
linen  garments,  while  his  grandson  limited  the 
immber  of  grave-clothes  to  one  dress  (see  Eders- 
Iieim,  Sketches  of  Jewish  Social  Life,  p.  168  f . ).  At 
the  present  day,  among  Jews  as  well  as  Moham- 
medans, the  corpse  is  attired  in  the  ordinary  holiday 
attire  of  life. 

Literature. — See  under  art.  Burial,  also  art.  '  Begriibnis  bei 
den  Hebraern  '  in  Herzo^,  PRE  3,  with  the  literature  there  cited. 

George  Milligan. 

GREATNESS. —1.  The  greatness  of  Christ.— 
Greatness  is  an  attribute  which  more  than  once 
in  the  Scriptures  is  applied  to  Jesus  Christ.  It  is 
used  both  relatively,  in  passages  which  suggest  a 
comparison  between  His  powers  and  those  of  such 
OT  heroes  as  Jacob  (Jn  4'-),  Jonah  and  Solomon 
(Mt  l?"-''^),  and  Abraham  or  the  prophets  (Jn  8*^) ; 
and  in  an  absolute  sense,  with  reference  to  the 
esteem  in  which  He  was  to  be  held  in  tlie  eyes  of 
Jehovah  (Lk  P-).  In  the  teaching  of  Jesus  Him- 
self, however,  greatness  is  less  a  status  than  a 
quality.  In  the  few  words  in  which  He  alludes  to 
His  own  human  greatness,  He  makes  it  to  consist 
in  capacity  for  service  and  for  sacrifice  (Mk  10"  II), 
and  it  is  significant  that  in  the  Epistles  also  the 
attribute  is  ascribed  to  Him  onlj'  where  the  idea 
of  service  and  sacrifice  is  prominent  in  tlie  con- 
text (He  4»  10='  13=»). 

In  one  passage  the  greatness  of  the  Son  is  com- 
pared with  that  of  the  Father  (Jn  14'-«).  This  is 
admittedly  a  difficult  saying.  The  imiiortant  point 
to  be  borne  in  mind  is  that  tlie  statement  must 
not  be  interpreted  apart  from  the  rest  of  Christ's 
teaching  concerning  His  relationship  to  the  First 
Person  in  the  Trinity.  A  careful  study  of  His 
whole  attitude  seems  to  show  that,  whether  He  is 
here  referring  to  such  inferiority  as  is  in\olved  in 
His  possessing  the  Divine  essence  by  communica- 
tion or  to  that  which  belonged  to  His  subordina- 
tion as  being  incarnate  upon  the  earth,  the  words 
'are  perfectly  consistent  with  the  belief  in  the 
unity  of  the  Divine  nature,  and  therefore  witli  the 
belief  in  the  equality  of  the  Godhead  of  the  Son 
with  the  Godhead  of  the  Father'  (Westcott,  ad 
loc. ;  cf.  Godet,  ad  lot: ). 

2.  The  greatness  of  Christ's  folloicers. — Christ 
has  less  to  say  about  His  own  greatness  than 
about  that  of  His  followers.  For  there  is  a  great- 
ness that  belongs  to  His  Kingdom,  and  this  He 
covets  for  each  one  of  them.  So  exalted  is  it  that 
it  surpasses  the  highest  conception  of  greatness 
hitlierto  received  (Mt  11"  =  Lk7=«).  But  thisgreat- 
ness  of  the  Kingdom  differs  essentially  from  that 
in  which  the  world  delights.  The  world  has  con- 
fused greatness  itself  with  certain  caricatures  of  it 
known  as  'fame'  and  'power.'  The  teaching  of 
Jesus  draws  clear  lines  of  distinction. 

(a)  Greatness  is  not  fame.  Men's  fame  consists 
in  what  others  say  about  them  ;  Christians'  great- 
ness consists  in  what  they  themselves  are.  Of  tlie 
former  consideration  Christ  bids  His  followers  to 
be  exultinwly  independent  (Mt  5"-'-,  note  the 
strong  word  ayaWiaadc).  Indeed,  to  share  in  their 
Lord's  greatness  will  involve  not  praise  but  per- 
secution (Jn  15™).  But  upon  the  second  considera- 
tion, that  is  to  say,  upon  their  character,  their 
claim  to  greatness  wholly  depends.  And  the  char- 
acter demanded  includes,  not  the  assertive  quali- 
ties of  notoriety,  but  the  milder  attributes  of  child- 
like humility  (Mk  9",  Mt  \»-*,  Lk  9«),  and  obedi- 
ence to  the  Divine  law  (Mt  5"— a  passage  which 
has  an  important  bearing  on  the  relationship  of 
the  new  dispensation  to  the  old). 

(6)  Greatness  is  not  power.  This,  It  is  true,  is 
the  current  conception  of  it.  In  the  world's  view, 
to  lie  great  is  to  oe  able  to  exact  from  others  as 


GRECIANS,  GREEKS 


GRECIANS,  GREEKS 


691 


much  as  is  possible  of  respect  and  service.  The 
more  servants  a  man  lias  at  his  disposal,  the  wider 
the  sphere  in  which  he  can  command  obedience, 
the  greater  he  is  held  to  be  (Mk  10*'  ||).  Such  was 
also  the  disciples'  conception.  Two  of  them  were 
ambitious  of  sitting  the  one  on  Christ's  right  hand 
and  the  other  on  His  left  in  His  Kingdom  ;  the 
others  were  jealous,  because  they  coveted  these 
seats  of  authority  for  themselves  (Mk  10'=f-  =  Mt 
20-""'-).  In  striking  contrast  with  this  view  Jesus 
places  His  own  pronouncement  on  greatness. 
According  to  His  teaching  as  well  as  His  example 
(see  above),  to  be  great  is  not  to  exact,  but  to  give, 
as  much  service  as  possible.  A  man's  greatness  is 
measured  less  by  the  service  he  commands  than 
by  the  service  he  renders  (Mk  lO^-^  ||).  In  a 
glorious  paradox  the  highest  in  the  Kingdom  is  he 
who  assumes  the  lowest  place  (Mt  23",  Jn  13"''*, 
and,  for  the  supreme  example,  Ph  2^'"). 

The  practical  importance  of  such  teaching  can 
scarcely  be  over-emphasized.  Until  the  time  of 
the  Incarnation  the  position  of  a  servant  was  the 
lowest  of  all  ;  but  when  the  Son  of  God  appeared. 
He,  in  St.  Paul's  words,  '  took  the  form  of  a 
servant '  {fiopiprii'  dovXov,  Ph  2'),  and  from  that  day 
the  whole  status  of  honourable  service,  in  what- 
ever capacity,  has  been  consecrated  an<l  raised. 
The  position  it  occupies  is  no  longer  menial ;  it  is 
the  most  exalted  of  all.  The  servant's  life,  indeed, 
may  be  a  life  of  greatness,  inasmuch  as  Christ  has 
placed  the  very  essence  of  greatness  no  longer  in 
power  to  command,  but  in  willingness  to  minister. 
The  very  title  which  our  Lord  uses  of  Himself  in 
appealing  to  His  own  example  (Mk  10^'' i[),  suggests 
that  the  nearer  a  man's  life  approaches  to  tiie 
ideal  of  humanity,  the  more  completely  will  he 
realize  his  greatness  in  the  service  of  others. 

The  exact  significance  of  the  title  ' Son  of  Man  '  (wh.  see)  has 
been  much  discussed.  To  the  present  \\Titerthe  truest  explana- 
tion appears  to,  be  that  which  makes  it  jioint  to  CIn-ist  as  the 

also  the  perfect  rt't>ri>s.-iil:itiMii  <,r  niiuikiiMl,     'IIh n'  wm-^  nnlliin;r 

ing  that  belonixs  to  it.  11.^  \\:is.  if  wf  in.i>  ^o  .-xi.ilss  ii.  the 
perfect  specimen  of  wliaL  man  was  inti^iided  to  be.  It  will  be 
seen  that,  if  this  view  is  correct,  the  applicatioti  of  the  title 
made  above  is  justifiable. 

One  more  saying  of  Jesus  must  be  included  in 
our  study.  To  His  followers,  as  we  have  shown, 
greatness  does  not  mean  power  in  any  i-arthly 
sense.  And  yet  the  very  men  who  refuse  to  exert 
such  power  shall  be  possessed  by  a  power  superior 
to  all  earthly  might — the  power  of  the  Father's 
protection  {in  10="  —  according  to  the  probable 
reading).  H.  Bissekee. 

GRECIANS,  GREEKS.— i.  Distinction  of  thk 
Words.— 1.  Greek.— The  name  "EW-ni',  derived 
from  a  small  tribe  living  in  Thessaly,  was  ex- 
tended to  include  all  of  Greek  race,  whetlier 
natives  of  Greece  or  of  the  Greek  islands  or 
colonies.  This  is  the  use  in  classical  Greek,  and  it 
also  appears  in  the  NT,  e.g.  Ac  18"  (TR),  'All 
the  Greeks  took  Sosthenes,'  etc.  ;  Ro  1"  (the 
Greek  division  of  mankind  into  Greeks  and  non- 
Greeks  or  Barbarians)  ;  perhaps  also  1  Co  l---  ^ 
(Schleusner).  This  meaning  was  widened  by  the 
Jews  to  include  all  non-Jews  who  lived  as  the 
Greeks,  using  their  language  and  manners.  Where 
'EWi/t'es  are  opposed  to  Jews,  the  primary  reference 
is  to  a  ditl'erence  of  religious  worsliip  (Grimii!). 

So  in  LXX  of  Is  9'"  where  "EW-nra  ajijieai-s  for 
'Philistines';  cf.  also  2  Mac  4'"'  .-iii'l  li'.  Tims 
the  Jews  divided  mankind  into  .I.'ws  .iihl  (.'ici'ks, 

which   corresponds   to   the   divisii I    .lews  .iiul 

Gentiles;  cf.  Ac  l-l'  loi",  Ko  \"'  -y- '■>  :>;'  joi-,   i  Co 

Greek  (C.il  ■„■■!,  !  .iNm  ihr  f.illi.'i'  .,|  'I'inmt.hy  (Ac 

16'').     Tlus  use  oi    ||„.  wi.nl   w.-is  .■..nliiiued  by  the 


Christian  Fathers,  such  as  Justin  Martyr,  Tatian, 
and  Athanasius. 

2.  Grecian.  —  'EXXtjuo-ti;!  (from  'EWrji/i^u),  AV 
'  Grecian,'  one  who  copies  the  customs  and  uses 
the  language  of  the  Greeks,  received  among  the 
Jews  the  technical  meaning  of  a  Jew  of  the  Dis- 
persion, born  outside  Palestine  and  living  among 
the  Gentiles.  These  remained  faithful  to  Judaism, 
but  spoke  Hellenistic  Greek,  the  vernacular  of 
daily  life  in  the  Gentile  world.  In  the  NT  'EXXi;- 
marris  is  opposed  to  'E/iptiros,  a  Palestinian  Jew  (see 
Trench,  AT  Si/,ioni/,ii.s)  ;  cf.  Ac  6'.  See  J.  H. 
Moulton,  Grci,,,.  uf  N.T.  Greek,  ch.  i. 

ii.  Greek  Influence  in  Palestine.- 1.  His- 
torical.— The  conquests  of  Alexander  the  Great 
(B.C.  331)  opened  the  East  to  Greek  settlers. 
Numbers  of  his  veterans  settled  in  Syria,  and 
Greek  colonists  were  welcomed  by  his  succes- 
sors. Old  towns  (as  Gaza,  Askalon,  Ashdod,  and 
Samaria)  were  Hellenized,  and  new  Greek  towns 
(as  Scythopolis,  Pella,  and  Gerasa)  were  built. 
Alexander'.s  policy  of  Hellenizing  his  conquests 
was  to  a  great  extent  successful,  and  a  large  sec- 
tion of  the  inhabitants  of  Palestine  favoured  Greek 
culture.  It  appeared  likely  that  Hellenism  would 
slowly  conquer  Judaism,  and  that  the  zealous 
adherents  of  the  Mosaic  law  would  become  a 
minority  in  the  nation.  Had  this  happened,  the 
Mending  of  Greek  oilture  witli  JiKhiisiii  might 
have  t^k™  pjaci-  (,n  I'.'ilcstini.-iii  soil  .-is  il  did  in 
Alexandria,  .ludaisni,  h..w..vcr.  w:is  saw,!  1 1, rough 
the  injudicious  action  of  Aiitioclius  l-'.piplianes, 
who  ruled  Syria  B.C.  175-164.  In  B.C.  168,  Anti- 
ochus  endeavoured  to  thoroughly  Hellenize  Judfea. 
He  forbade  the  Jewish  worship,  and  ordered  sacri- 
tiees  to  be  offered  to  heathen  deities  in  the  cities  of 
.Judiea.  The  penalty  of  disobedience  was  death 
(I  Mac  \*^-'>'').  This  led  to  the  rebellion  of  the 
Maccabees.  During  the  troubled  years  which 
followed,  the  Jewish  national  party  regained  nmch 
of  their  lost  ground.  Hellenism  was  discouraged, 
and  even  persecuted.  Subsequently  Jewish  patriot- 
ism took  the  form  of  zealous  observance  of  the 
Law,  and  there  resulted  the  strongly  marked  divi- 
sion between  Jew  and  Greek  which  we  find  in  the 
Gospels. 

2.  Extent  of  Greek  influence  in  Palestine  in  the 
time  of  Christ.— (1)  Greek  districts.— The  Aiatxicis 
of  Palestine  which  in  the  time  of  Christ  wei'e 
chieHy  Jewish  were  Judsea,  Galilee,  and  Persea 
(Jos.  'BJ  iii.  3  ;  Schiirer,  HJP  II.  i.  3  tt'.).  Close  to 
these  were  districts  predominantly  Greek.  The 
towns  of  Philistia  had  heathen  temples.  The 
whole  seaboard  of  the  Mediterranean  was  Greek 
except  Joppa  and  Jamnia.  On  the  north,  heathen 
territory  was  reached  in  Cfesarea  Philippi,  where 
there  was  a  celebrated  temple  to  Pan.  On  the 
east  we  find  the  Greek  league  of  Decapolis  (G.  A. 
Smith,  HGHL  p.  593).  Even  in  central  Pale.stine 
heathen  temples  existed  at  Samaria  and  Scytho- 
polis. In  the  Greek  cities  athletic  contests  took 
place,  and  the  usual  amusements  of  the  theatre 
and  gymnasium  were  provided.  Thus  within  a 
few  miles  of  the  scenes  of  the  Saviour's  ministry 
there  were  Gentile  cities  with  temples,  society, 
and  culture,  fully  Greek.  But  although  Jesus 
went  into  the  country  districts  of  the  Gentile 
portions  of  Palestine,  we  have  no  record  of  His 
entering  any  Greek  cities.  For  instance,  we  do 
not  know  that  He  ever  entered  Tiberias,  although 
frequently  in  that  neighbourhood. 

('!)  .Tfir'ixh  districts.— Even  in  the  Jewish  districts 
of  I'.ilcsliiic,  Greek  influence  was  distinctly  felt. 
I'oici;;!!  H.s  the  theatre  and  amphitheatre  were  to 
Jewish  notions,  they  were  built  at  Jerusalem  by 
Herod  the  Great  (Jos.  Ant.  XV.  viii.  1),  and  they 
also  existed  at  Jericho.  Greek  architecture  found 
its  way  even  into  Herod's  Temple.     Even  in  the 


GRECIANS,  GEEEKS 
considerable  number  of  ^^^^^^^  ^^^^^^^  influence. 

(n)  the  ^\^^eek  ^^  ui  _    ^    ^j^    ^j^ree  languages  in 

Hebrew  in  the  Ali^ima  .J"!  written  ; 

and  cikization.     (See.Schurei,  fl^i^  H-  i-  S 

Greeks  came  to  the  ^^'■^'>^''-,J,}'f;^,^^^  V™)  -The 
Sav  oui  waf  either  on  GentUe  ^ouml  (note^  he 
strongly  -PP-r^/e'rlSfn)      f^e     o„^n  ^al  a 


GREETINGS 


For   the   Greek   language  see   Language   of 
Cheist. 

r,;„„n  Thaver    .«  m. :  Schiirer,  HJP,  Index, 
LlTEBATfRE.— Grimm-in^.x     .   ^  Edersheira,   Ll/e   and 

%".'■   ''^'tt^.^'^^'-'^rU    '^^iiS^s     'Greece;  in  vol,  ii..  of 
TiiMS,  I.  1/-30,  *>4-'-'.  *;"•,:'  p„t  Vol  •  art.  'Hellenism'  m 
Hastings'  DB,  and  'Diaspora   in  Ext.  vol  .,^    ^jj,^  ^  ^_ 
EncycrBMica ;  M'Fadyen,  art.    Hellenjm^  RoBINSON. 

GREETINGS.-' To  greet'  and  'to  salute'  st^d 
in  NT  for  the  same  Gr.  verb  "<rxafe^«a.  ■  AV 
venders  indifferenUy'!,n-eet  and  salute  ^^^K^V 
almost  uniformly  'salute-  Ihe  exceP 
■JQi  AV  'embraced,'  RV  t"".'^  i'^*^®  ?, , .' fVp  , ,'» 
AV  'took  leave  of,"  RV  '  bade  farewell   ;  He  U 


native  or  inecuui.w J,  ""----,-,  heathen. 

^t^^^'no^^^'u^-tcTbe  found  in 

""b^rirX^J^o-asM  to  see  Jesus  (Jn  12-)^- 
Evidently  they  Avere  also  proselytes,  (Jn  i- 

sion  of  the  Je^^^  1m  t  h  ^^  .^^^.^^^  ,,j^j  i,een 
causes  Large  ':"'"":,  v-.yrians  and  Baby- 
carried  away  ca  -  "  ;  J.„  y^^  j,,,i,u  cai- 
lonians  ;  and  Po"n  ^>  '  , '  ndi  lar-er  dispersion  was 
tives  to  Rome.     But  a  ""Y„ ,      Kr on.  tlie  time  of 

Sr";  Antio  -l^i^^  an  the  important  cities  on 
the    Mediterranean,   and    even    -^  B'^^-^'^^^^,^ 

instill  Go^'e&ou^^^^^ 

of    non-Pa'lestiman  Jews    a     the     ea.  t^         ^^^^^^ 


our  and  free  in  conversation  ne  ^^^y  "?^ 


the  laws  regulating  social  customs  sa,ucu.«.."-"- 
Anj  breacu  oi  ui  j,  ,„„tters  of  ceremony,  is 


desires!  and  he  will  fall  mto  a  paroxysm  of  lage 
over  his 'broken  honour  ^„^ 

respect  by_benain:-  '^^~  ',  |  V  jj^  „?in,  at  times, 
"^tlt^"^  -penor:  a^ jaise  it  to  Ins 
Low,  One  -tercedlng  or^ano  e  OIK^^.^;.,,-^ 
bec"ing  a  favour  (Mt  1»  ,  V'"  „„  „,„..  i;^.; ., 
^.fe!e  in  token  of  utter  submission  one  m.^U^.^ 

7Lk^1»r'oTt  "lovfaVl  e'stlfm  of  Mends      TWs 
luinVwith  a  darker  infamy  the  treachery  of  Judas 

crowded  street  It  ^|.  »^  ^,^^11,,,^^,  or  men  distin- 

gation  to  salute     To  be  ^ahit^      They  merely 

i-Tiorance  or  vulgarity,     ine  toiumu 


GRIEF 


GROWING 


neither  in  this  world  nor  in  the  next'  (Doughty, 
Arabia  Descrta,  i.  503).  Once  Mr.  Doughty  was 
gravely  imperilled  because  he  'had  greeted  with 
Salaam  Aleyk,  which  they  [the  Arabs]  will  have  to 
be  a  salutation  of  God's  people  only — the  Moslemln ' 
(ib.  ii.  369).  If  a  Moslem  by  mistake  give  it  to  a 
non-Moslem,  it  should  not  be  returned.  On  dis- 
covery the  former  may  revoke  it,  as  he  does  should 
a  Moslem  fail  to  return  it,  saying,  '  Peace  be  on 
us  and  on  the  righteous  woVshippcrs  of  God' 
(Lk  10=).  The  insecure  lit.'  nf  ll.-l„,.«  and  Arab, 
ever  exposed  to  alarm  of  wm  oi  iiilil>L'r  raid,  no 
doubt  gave  special  meaning  to  the  greeting  '  Peace.' 

At  meeting  of  friends,  greetings  are  lengthy  and 
wearisome.  Of  the  Arabs,  Doughty  observes,  '  The 
long  nomad  greetings  .  .  .  are  for  the  most,  to  say 
over  a  dozen  times  with  bashful  solemnity  the  same 
cheyf  ent,  cheyf  ent,  "How  dost  thou?  and  how 
heartily  again?"  '  {ib.  i.  433).  Dr.  Mackie  gives  a 
good  example  of  the  more  elaborate  trilling  of  the 
Syrians  {Bible  Manners  and  Cnstmiis,  p.  150).  The 
phrases  are  set  and  conventional,  the  maximum  of 
words  conveying  the  minimum  of  meaning. 

The  Rabbis  forbade  one  mourning  for  the  dead 
to  salute.  Interruption  of  prayer  was  forbidden, 
even  to  salute  a  king,  nay,  to  uncoil  a  serpent 
from  the  foot.  The  Rabins  all  agreed  that,  to 
avoid  distraction,  no  one  should  be  saluted  im- 
mediately before  prayer  (Edersheim,  Life  and  Times 
of  Jesus,  ii.  137).  The  nature  of  the  salutations 
indicated  above  sufficiently  explains  these  restric- 
tions, and  also  enables  us  to  understand  the  pro- 
hibition of  Jesus,  'Salute  no  man  by  the  way' 
(Lk  IC).  The  urgency  of  that  mission  could  brook 
no  such  delays.  W.  EwiNG. 

GRIEF.— See  Sorrow. 

GRINDING.-See  Mill. 

GROANING.— See  Sighing  ;  and  Anger,  p.  62". 

GROWING.— 

Under  this  term  students  of  the  Greek  Testament  have  to  do 
with  only  one  word—  and  that  a  verb,  xiU"i-  The  considera- 
tion of  the  corresponding  substantive  does  not  properly  fonn 
the  subject  of  inquiry  in  this  Dictionary.  Rare  in  classical 
literature,  «.'iiy.tr,s  is  used  only  twice  in  the  NT,  viz.  in  Eph  416 
and  Col  2iy.  The  verb  is,  however,  employed  some  twelve 
times  within  the  four  Gospels.  It  is  a  verb  of  exceedingly 
doubtful  derivation,  but  probably  is  etymologically  linked  with 
the  German  tvachsen  and  our  own  wax  ;  less  certainly  with  the 
Latin  augeo.  Its  underlying  meanin(?  is  that  of  additional  size, 
bulk,  or  power.  The  normal  usage  of  the  verb  in  the  Classics 
implies  that  such  access  comes  from  without,  it  is  superimposed 
by  some  external  agency.  This  significance  lies  both  in  the 
transitive  and  intransitive  use  of  the  verb,  and  affords,  as  will  be 
seen,  a  striking  contrast  with  its  use  in  the  Greek  Testament. 
Quotations  are  not  needful.  The  verb  is  employed  by  classical 
writers  from  Homer  downwards  to  mark  efforts  to  increase  the 
power  of  the  State  or  of  a  country,  of  special  honour  paid  to 
parents,  of  the  exaggerations  of  orators,  of  the  waxing  of  the 
moon,  of  the  noontide  heat  of  the  sun,  of  the  height  of  the 
waves  of  the  sea.  Enough  to  say  that  in  classical  literature  the 
verb  marks  an  increase  or  addition  to  a  person  or  thing 
brought  about  by  external  agency. 

The  Hebrew  language  is  very  rich  in  terms  which  signify 
'growth.'  There  arc  some  16  words,  verbs  and  nouns  sub- 
stantive, which  bear  this  general  meaning.  It  is  enough  to  say 
here  that  they  are  capable  of  a  single  classification.  One  set  of 
expressionscorrespondstootii^aka-in  the  sense  already  indicated  ; 
the  other,  which  is  preponderant,  marks  *  growth  '  of  the  physi- 
cal order,  seminal  growth  ;  and  is  applied  with  a  great  wealth 
of  illustration  to  the  life  of  plants,  trees,  the  brute  creation, 
and  of  man  himself.  Every  student  of  the  Psalter  or  of  the 
Prophetical  books  is  aware  of  the  word-pictures  here  in  which 
the  writers  take  delight,  a  delight  which  is  spiritual  more  than 
intellectual,  of  the  heart  rather  than  the  mind.  The  natural 
laws  of  physical  development  are  by  these  writers  boldly  made 
to  apply  to  the  spiritual  world.  Jehovah,  supreme  in  the  one 
sphere,  is  supreme  in  the  other.  Growth  is  from  within,  but  yet 
it  is  '  God  who  giveth  the  increase.' 

When  the  student  turns  to  the  NT,  and  to  the  idea  of  growth 
which  finds  expression  there,  he  finds  that  there  is  a  greater 
affinity  of  conception  between  the  inspired  UTiters  of  both 
Testaments  than  there  is  between  the  writers  of  the  NT  and 
classical  Greek  writers.     The  affinity  simply  lies  in  the  cora- 


1.  References  in  the  Gospels. — With  the  above 
Ijreliminaries,  the  issue  may  now  be  considered  in 
relation  to  the  four  Gospels.  And  first,  the  less 
careful  student  must  be  warned  that  the  quotation 
which  records  the  pathetic  plea  of  the  disciples  to 
their  Lord,  '  Increase  our  faith,'  *  stands  out  as 
an  exception.  The  translation  [AV  and  RV]  may 
serve,  but  it  is  doubtful  whether  '  our '  is  admis- 
sible. Despite  the  verb,  it  is  questionable  whether 
the  disciples  then  asked  for  a  growth  of  that  spirit 
of  which  they  were  consciously  possessed.  Were 
they  not  rather  asking  for  some  gift  new  and 
strange  to  their  experience  ?  In  any  case  growth 
of  the  physical  order  is  not  in  place  here ;  for  this 
we  must  look,  as  has  been  shown,  almost  ex- 
clusively to  tlie  verb  aii6.voi.  This  verb  is  of 
frequent  occurrence  in  the  Gospels,  although  only 
once  employed  by  the  Fourth  Evangelist,t  when 
tlie  Baptist's  language  is  rendered  as  expressing 
the  growing  authority  of  the  new  Teacher,  and 
the  increasing  number  of  His  adherents.  It  is 
interesting  to  observe  that  with  regard  to  all  other 
instances  of  the  occurrence  of  this  word,  theyeither 
apply,  as  here,  to  the  Lord  Himself,  or  else  form  a 
part  of  His  own  utterances  ;  nor  is  the  interest  of 
the  point  largely  aH'ected  by  the  admission  that 
our  Lord  would  normally  use  Aramaic.  The  Evan- 
gelists doubtless  discovered  in  the  verb  ai^avu  what 
they  wished  to  convey  about  His  childhood,  and 
what  they  understood  Him  to  teach  in  lessons 
drawn  from  the  natural  world. 

In  his  unique  account  of  our  Lord's  childhood 
the  Second  Evangelist  declares  of  Him  (Lk  2*)  that 
which  he  had  in  precisely  the  same  terms  declared 
of  the  Baptist  (1*"),  that  '  the  child  grew  and  waxed 
strong,  filled  with  wisdom '  [of  the 


'  in 
spirit ']  ;  that  is,  the  development  of  Christ,  both 
spiritually  and  physically,  was  normal  and  equable 
in  its  character.  The  phraseology  of  St.  Luke 
suggests  a  contrast  with  the  Apocryphal  Gospels, 
whose  account  of  Christ's  infancy  makes  Him  ap- 
pear a  wonder-working  prodigy,  a  phenomenal 
child,  anxious  for  the  display  of  supernatural 
powers.  St.  Luke  will  have  none  of  this.  He  is 
not  content  with  a  single  protest,  for  later  (2=^)  he 
solemnly  declares  that  as  the  child  Jesus  advanced 
in  years  so  He  developed  in  wisdom  and  in  favour 
with  God  and  men.  Here,  however,  the  '  growth ' 
is  not  explicitly  stated,  the  rare  verb  (irpoiKovTfv) 
used  marking  rather  advancement,  or  progress 
triumphing  over  difficulties  in  the  way. 

The  remaining  instances  of  the  verb  av^dvoi  ap- 
pear for  the  most  part  in  our  Lord's  parabolic 
discourses.  Thus  it  is  seen  to  be  the  characteristic 
feature  of  the  seed  sown.?  There  is  a  process  of 
secret  assimilation  between  it  and  the  good  ground  ; 
and  growth,  not  sterility  or  a  rash  prematurity, 
is  the  consequence.§  In  the  immortal  contrast 
(Mt  6=«,  cf.  Lk  12-'')  between  the  lilies  of  the  field 
and  the  garish  splendour  of  Solomon's  court  dress, 
it  is  less  upon  the  beauty  of  the  flowers  that 
Christ  lays  stress  than  upon  their  growth,  gradual 
and  all  unconscious,  spontaneous,  effortless.  In 
the  parable  of  the  Tares  ami  Wheat  this  character- 
istic verb  appears  in  the  permission,  at  once  gener- 
ous and  awful,  of  the  master  to  his  servants  to  let 
both  gTow  together  until  the  harvest  (Mt  13^").  In 
the  same  parabolic  discourse  it  is  the  growth  of 
the  mustard-seed,  the  development  of  the  surpris- 
ingly little,  which  furnishes  an  analogue  of  the 

»  Lk  175  t/j«V9k  iu?.  T.o-T,.. 
t  Jn  330  opposed  to  ix«TT<.S<r««i. 

t  Mk  48,  cf.  V.27  where  srowth  is  expressed  by  pi.^xmTxi. 
§The  lessons  as  to  hindrances  to  growth  taught  in  the  Par- 
able of  the  Sower  would  need  a  separate  study. 


694 


GUARD 


GUEST 


spread  of  the  Church  universal  (Mt  13'').  Lastly, 
although  we  have  not  here  the  verb  av^ivw,  we 
find  the  mysterious  condemnation  passed  upon  the 
barren  fig-tree  (Mt  21''),  a  condemnation  of  that 
which  is  purely  physical,  sterility  in  fruit,  which 
fruit  in  the  world  of  men  as  in  the  life  of  plants 
and  trees  is  tlie  consequence  of  all  true  growth 


2.  The  underlying    idea. — It    seems    somewhat 
strange,  since  tlie  OT  is 


1  full  of  religious  teaching 
drawn  from  physical  growth,  that  only  in  the  one 
instance,  quotetl  above,  of  our  Lord's  childhood  is 
a  spiritual  application  of  the  idea  directly  made  in 
the  Gospel  narrative.  Christ,  we  may  reverently 
say  it,  was  content  to  lay  the  conception  which 
was  ever  before  Him,  in  garden,  harvest  field,  and 
orchard,  also  before  His  own.  If  they  had  eyes  to 
see  these  things,  and  ears  to  hear  them, — if  they 
would  only  'consider'  (Lk  12"-^)  them, — heart 
and  conscience  would  do  the  rest.  Tlien  they,  as 
we,  would  perceive  this  natural  law  in  the  spiritual 
world  —  a  grooving  within,  secret,  beautiful,  fer- 
tile, in  men,  and  yet  not  of  man,  yielding  the 
increase  and  harvest  of  the  Spirit,  His  fruit  rather 
than  their  works. 

3.  Application  of  the  idea. — But  if  it  is  thought 
even  by  devout  and  careful  students  that  such 
ideas  are  more  than  may  be  gathered  from  our 
Lord's  actual  utterances,  those  who  treasured  His 
sayings  in  the  Apostolic  age  did  not  think  so.  St. 
Peter  and  St.  Paul  no  longer  use  the  idea  of  grow- 
ing as  a  metaphor.  It  is  a  gracious  fact  Itoth  for 
the  Church  and  the  individual  believer.  Thus  the 
Apostle  of  the  Gentiles  uses  the  conception  of 
inward  Christian  growth  (Eph  4'^),  and  so  as  to 
form  a  shrine  wherein  the  Divine  presence  may  be 
manifest  (2-') ;  his  prayer  for  his  Colossian  con- 
verts is  that  they  may  grow  in  further  knowledge 
of  God  (Col  1'") ;  his  promise  to  them  if  they  '  hold 
the  Head '  (2"),  is  that  they  shall  gi-ow  with  a 
Divine  increase.  Twice  he  assures  the  Corinthians 
(1  Co  3')  that  this  growth,  although  in  them,  has  a 
Divine  origin.  St.  Peter  ( 1  P  2^,  cf .  [2  P  3'«])  shows 
that  the  Holy  Scriptures  have  their  own  function 
in  the  growth  of  grace.  It  is  enough  ;  the  concep- 
tion is  carried  through  from  one  Testament  to  the 
other,  and  its  teaching  is  consecrated,  its  consola- 
tion is  secured  in  and  through  Him  whom  the 
great  Evangelical  prophet  (Is  11')  prefigured  as 
the  very  symbol  of  giowing :  '  There  shall  come 
forth  a  shoot  out  of  the  stock  of  Jesse,  and  a 
branch  out  of  his  roots  shall  bear  fruit.'  That 
fruit  is  still  seen  in  every  plant  planted  by  the 
Divine  Husbandman  (Mt  15"). 


LiTERATi-TRE. — Reference  may  be  made  to  Drummond,  Sat. 
Law  in  tlie  Spir.  World,  p.  123  ff.  ;  Bruce,  Parabolic  Teathing, 
pp.  90-143  ;  Marcus  Dods,  Parables  oj  our  Lord,  1st  Ser.  p.  47  jf. 

B.  Whitefoord. 

GUARD.— 1.  RV  rendering  of  KomruSia  (Lat. 
cnstodia),  Mt  21^-^  28",  AV  'watch';  obtained 
by  the  chief  priests  and  Pharisees  from  Pilate  to 
^ard  the  sepulchre.  The  need  of  Pilate's  author- 
ization and  the  risk  of  punishment  from  him 
(Mt  28''')  show  that  this  guard  must  liave  con- 
sisted, not  of  the  Jewish  Temple  police,  but  of 
soldiers  from  the  Roman  cohort  at  Jerusalem ; 
possibly,  though  not  probably,  the  same  as  had 
guarded  the  cross  (^x^^f.  27*°,  is  probably  impera- 
tive, 'have  (take)  a  guard').  A  watch  usually 
consisted  of  four  men  (Polyb.  vi.  33),  each  of 
whom  watched  in  turn,  while  the  others  rested 
beside  him  so  as  to  be  roused  by  the  least  alarm  ; 
but  in  this  case  the  guards  may  have  been  more 
numerous. 

2.  'A  soldier  of  his  [Herod's]  guard'  (RV  tr.  of 
aireKovXciTup,  Lat.  speculator,  AV  '  executioner ') 
lieheatled  John  the  Baptist,  Mk  6".  Spemdatore.^ 
were  originally  spies  or  scouts  (from  .specula,  '  a 
look-out') ;  but  we  find  them  chiefly  employed  («) 


a>  in>-~rTi;^t.-r^  or  ciinviers,  carrying  official  de- 
.s|i.iic  li.,  ;  (/,i  a^  iiiilit.ir\  i-sr.utioners.  A  certain 
nun  ill.  a-  wcrr  atlai-ln-.l  h.rarli  legion,  besides  others 
lielc'iii;ing  to  till-  I'ra  hiiian  uuarJ,  who  were  closely 
attached  to  the  Einin mr^  ].. axon  and  ready  for 
any  special  senuce.  Jlnav  arc  many  examples  in 
classical  writers  (..,;,  Scnc,  a,  ,/.  In,,  i.  ii.  4),  Acts 
of  Martyrs,  and  Rabljiiuc  writings,  of  their  employ- 
ment as  executioners ;  for  refi'.  see  SchUrer,  Wet- 
stein,  etc.  The  Herods  had  bodyguards  {dopv(p6poi, 
aoifiaro^iXaKet,  Jos.  BJ  I.  xxxiii.  7-9,  II.  xv.  I, 
etc.),  and  may  have  given  them  the  Roman  title  of 
spcculatoi-es ;  or  the  word  may  here  be  used  gener- 
ally for  an  executioner.  Herod  sent  some  of  his 
guards  (Sopv<f>bpoL)  to  kill  his  son  Antipater  (Ant. 
XVII.  vii.  1,  BJl.  xxxiii.  7). 

LiTKRATURB.— Schurer,  HJP  i.  ii.  62f. ;  Benson,  Cyprian, 
505  n.  ;  Gelling  in  Hase  and  Ilcen's  This.  Sou.  ii.  405 ;  Mar- 
quardt,  Rbmische  Staatsverioaltitng,  ii.  pp.  420,  547. 

Harold  Smith. 

GUEST — Hospitality  was,  and  to  a  large  extent 
still  is,  one  of  the  chief  virtues  of  Oriental  life. 
This  was  due  in  large  measure  to  the  nomadic 
cliaracter  of  Eastern  peoples,  among  whom  tliere 
was  no  ]iro\ision  for  the  traveller  apart  from 
private  entertainment.  The  casual  passer-by,  the 
iinknow  n  stranger,  even  the  enemy,  were  welcomed 
to  tent  or  house,  provided  with  food  and  lodging, 
waited  on  often  by  the  host  himself,  and  dismissed 
without  being  expected  or  even  allowed  to  pay  for 
their  entertainment.  Even  yet,  where  the  influence 
of  travellers  and  tourists  from  the  West  has  not 
corrupted  the  ancient  manners,  the  ofler  of  pay- 
ment is  regarded  as  an  insult.  The  practice  of 
ages  has  invested  the  guest  with  a  peculiar  sacred- 
ness  :  a  breach  of  hospitality  is  an  almost  unheard 
of  disgrace.  Underlying  tliis  ready  hospitality  of 
the  East  is  the  idea  that  every  stranger  is  aaif 
Ullah,  'the  guest  of  God.'  The  host  himself  is  a 
sojourner  (Heb.  rjir,  Arab,  jar)  with  God ;  the 
stranger  is  a  fellow  -  guest,  and  loyalty  to  God 
demands  that  he  should  be  hospitably  en tertainetl. 
Not  unlike  this,  though  on  a  higher  plane,  is  the 
teaching  of  Jesus  as  to  God's  knowledge  of  and 
provision  for  our  needs,  which  frees  the  trustful, 
childlike  heart  from  all  undue  anxiety  (Mt  &^-^*, 
Lk  12=^-3'). 

In  the  Gospels,  however,  it  is  not  the  free  hos- 
pitality of  tlie  nomad  desert  life  that  meets  us, 
but  the  more  restricted  hospitality  of  the  to^vn,  of 
meals  and  banquets. 


and  in  Lk  19T,  \vl 
««T.xD«-.j.    The-  Or 
dining  posture  Itua 
reference  to  nuiiN  ci 

RV  'at  the'taM-  i^ 
in  tlie  narrati-  l 
course,  had. M 


•  (RV  'to  lodge •)= 

indicates  the  re 

frequently  ii 


vfl;  is  rendered  in 
is  used  in  Jn  6>1 
though  they,  of 


r  I  linmgattable;  e.g 

•'.■•  ~.-nt  as  a  guest)  148 

hief  places);  cf.  art. 

io.i,M  is  similarly  used 


Lk  7S6  (of    an: 

(in  Christ's  wa,,,i...  ,.u  un-'  - 

GCBST-CllAMBER.     Ihe  co-iiate 
several  times,  e.g.  Mt  s"  14'^  e 

During  His  ministry  Jesus  was  frequently  in- 
vited to  be  guest  in  private  houses.  Thus  Matthew 
(Levi)  entertained  Him  when  He  had  called  him 
from  the  'place  of  toll'  (Lk  5-™- II);  Martha  're- 
ceived him  into  her  house '.'(Lk  lO*""")  ;  Zacchajus 
'received  him  joyfully'  (Lk  W-).  He  was  one 
of  tlie  guests  at  the  marriage  in  Cana  of  Galilee 
(Jn  S'""-),  and  after  His  resurrection  He  '  sat  down 
to  meat'  in  the  house  of  the  two  disciples  at 
Emmaus  (Lk  24**).  The  Pharisees  complained 
bitterly  of  His  eating  with  publicans  and  sinners, 
yet  several  of  them  invited  Him  to  be  their  guest 
(Lk  7*'«'-  ll""-  14'"-),  not,  as  it  seems,  with  the 
purest  motives  of  hospitality.  The  words  of  Jesus 
to  His  host  on  one  of  these  occasions  (Lk  7*'"-) 


I 


GUEST-CHAMBER 


GUIDE 


introduce  us  to  the  coui'tesies  which,  if  not  neces- 
sarily shown  to  a  guest,  were  marks  of  honour 
and  regard,  the  giving  of  water  to  wash  tlie  feet, 
the  kiss  of  welcome,  the  anointing  of  the  head 
with  oil. 

It  should  be  noted  here  that  the  request  of  Jesus 
to  the  Samaritan  woman,  '  Give  me  to  drink '  (Jn 
4'),  was  virtually,  according  to  Eastern  ideas,  a 
claim  on  her  hospitality,  and  in  ordinary  circum- 
stances it  would  have  been  recognized  and  re- 
sponded to  at  once.  Her  astonishment  at  the 
request  reminds  us  that  between  Jew  and  Sa- 
maritan there  was  no  recognition  of  the  law  of 
hospitality  (cf.  Lk  9^^  17"). 

Some  of  the  parables  of  Jesus  reflect  this  aspect 
of  Oriental  life.  The  man  to  whom  a  friend  has 
come  unexpectedly  at  midnight  is  distressed  be- 
cause he  has  nothing  in  the  house  to  otter  him  {Lk 
ll'"').  In  tlie  parable  of  the  Wedding  Feast  (Mt 
22iff.)  we  note  the  early  invitation  of  the  guests, 
the  calling  of  tliem  by  servants  on  the  appointed 
day  (with  /caWo-ai  toi/s  KeK\rii/.iiiovs,  cf.  Heb.  D'tiij^n 
1  S  9''- '"'),  the  provision  of  the  wedding  garment. 

In  some  other  passages  in  the  Gospels  we  have 
what  seem  to  be  traces  of  Oriental  ideas  as  to  the 
reception  of  guests,  e.g.  the  instructions  to  the 
Twelve  (Mt  10"-  '* ;  see  also  vv.^-^'),  to  the  Seventy 
(Lk  lO^"'-).  There  is  an  Eastern  saying  that  '  the 
guest  while  in  the  house  is  its  lord '  ;  the  host 
often  ministers  to  his  needs  with  his  own  hands. 
With  this  we  may  perhaps  compare  such  sayings 
as  Mt  23".  In  Mt  8",  Lk  13=^  the  final  blessed- 
ness of  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven  is  spoken  of  under 
the  figure  of  a  feast,  at  which  guests  from  the  east 
and  the  west  shall  sit  down  with  Abraham  and 
Isaac  and  Jacob.  Most  striking  of  all  is  the  great 
prophecy  of  final  judgment  (Mt  25'"'-),  where  the 
uestiny  of  men  is  made  to  turn  on  their  granting 
or  refusing  to  Christ,  in  the  person  of  '  one  of 
these  my  brethren,  even  the  least,'  the  position 
and  provision  of  a  guest. 

Literature.  —  Expositor's  Gr.  Test. ;  Hastings'  DB,  artt. 
'Guest,'  'Hospitality,'  'Host';  Enci/c.  Bill.,  artt.  'Meals,' 
'Stranger';  Jewish  Encyc^  art.  ' Hospitality ' ;  Vigouroux, 
Diet,  de  la  Bible,  art.  'Hospitality';  Hamburger,  HE,  art. 
'Cast';  Schenkel,  Bibcl-Lex.,  art.  'Gast';  Robinson,  BRP; 
Trumbull,  Studies  in  Oriental  Social  Life,  pp.  73-142  ;  W.  R. 
Smith,  J2S2 ;  Van  Lennep,  Manners  and  Customs  in  Bible 
Lands ;  Burckhardt,  Notes  on  the  Bedouins  and  WahdI/i/s ; 
Doughty,  Travels  in  Arabia  Deserta  (jHtr-sint) ;  Wilkinson, 
Manners  and  Customs  of  Ancient  Eqitptians. 

Charles  S.  Macalpine. 

GUEST-CHAMBER.  — This  word  occurs  in  EV 
only  in  the  parallel  passages  Mk  H'-*,  Lk  22". 
Peter  and  John,  sent  by  Jesus  to  prepare  His  last 
Passover,  are  told  to  ask  the  master  of  the  house 
to  which  they  would  be  guided,  '  Where  is  the 
(Mk.  'my')  guest-chamber,  where  I  shall  eat  the 
passover  with  my  disciples?'  Tlie  Greek  word 
here  used  (KaToKviia)  occurs  elsewhere  %n  NT  only 
in  the  narrative  of  the  Nativity  (Lk  2'),  '  Tliere 
was  no  room  for  them  in  the  inn '  (iv  rip  KaraMiMTi). 
It  is  used  by  LXX  as  the  rendering  of  pSo  (Ex  4=^, 
RV  '  lodging  place ')  and  of  nsfh  (1  S  d^-,  RV  'guest- 
chamber  ').  [It  may  here  be  noted  that  the  cognate 
verb  KaraXioj,  rendered  in  RV  '  lodge,'  occurs  in  Lk 
9>=  19'].  The  guest-chamber  of  tlie  last  Passover 
is  also  spoken  of  by  Jesus  as  '  a  large  upper  room ' 
{avdyaiov,  Mk  14'=",  Lk  22'-).  With  this  may  be 
compared  the  i^Trfpijjoi'  of  Ac  1"  9^- '"  20".  It  has 
been  conjectured  by  some  that  the  di/dyaioi/  of  Mk. 
and  Lk.  and  the  vTepifov  of  Ac  1'^  are  identical, 
but  there  is  no  evidence  in  supjjort  of  this. 

We  must  associate  several  incidents  in  the  life 
of  our  Lord  besides  the  last  Passover  with  the 
guest-chambers  of  the  houses  in  which  they  took 
place,  e.g.  the  anointing,  in  tlie  house  of  Simon  the 
Pharisee,  by  the  woman  who  was  a  sinner  (Lk 
T*"') :  the  later  anointing  by  Mary  of  Bethany  in 
the  house  of  Simon  the  Leper  (Jn   12"''-);  Levi's 


feast  (Lk  S-'"'-) ;   the  dinner,  or  ratlier  breakfast 
i),of  LklP'ff-;  andth 
recorded  in  Lk  H'""-. 

Tlie  guest-cliainber  occupied  in  our  Lord's  time, 
as  it  does  at  the  present  day,  an  important  place 
in  the  arrangement  and  economy  of  Oriental 
houses.  In  it  all  festivities  took  place  ;  it  was  set 
apart  also  for  the  entertainment  of  guests  during 
their  stay.  It  varied  in  position  and  character 
with  the  size  of  the  house.  The  smaller  houses 
(see  House)  had  only  one  court;  in  these  the  guest- 
chamber  was  on  the  ground-floor,  the  women's 
apartments  being  above.  But  in  the  larger  houses 
of  tlie  wealthier  classes,  which  had  two  or  three 
courts,  the  women's  apartments  were  hidden  away 
in  an  inner  court,  and  the  guest-chamber  occupied 
the  first  floor  of  the  outer  court  (hence  apayaiov, 
vTcpifov).  In  either  case  it  was  open  to  the  court, 
so  that  all  that  took  place  in  the  one  could  be  seen 
from  the  other.  On  the  opposite  side  of  the  court 
was  another  chamber,  equal  in  size  to  the  first, 
but  fronted  with  lattice-work  filled  in  with  coloured 
glass ;  this  served  as  a  winter  guest-chamber.  In 
some  cases  a  room  on  the  flat  roof,  the  most 
pleasant  and  most  retired  part  of  tlte  house,  was 
used  as  a  guest-chamber.  This  is  the  n'^ll  of  the 
OT  (cf.  1  K  17'-'). 

The  guest-chamber  was,  of  course,  furnished 
according  to  the  means  of  the  owner  of  the  house. 
Many  no  doubt  were,  as  indeed  they  are  still,  like 
the  prophet's  chamber  of  2  K  4'°,  furnished  with 
'a  bed,  and  a  table,  and  a  stool,  and  a  candle- 
stick.' But  those  of  the  wealthy  were  furnished 
with  the  greatest  luxury.  In  our  Lord's  time  the 
custom  of  reclining  at  meals  was  common.  Tlie 
couches  and  tables,  whicli  in  the  larger  houses 
were  placed  on  a  raised  part  of  the  guest-chamber 
calleclthe  Ikvan,  occupied  three  sides  of  a  square, 
and  the  guests  reclined  with  their  heads  toward 
the  table,  the  feet  outward  toward  tlie  wall,  and 
the  left  arm  resting  on  a  cushion.  This  must  be 
borne  in  mind  in  reading  such  narratives  as  those 
of  the  two  anointings  and  of  the  last  Passover. 
The  places  at  table  were  allotted  to  the  guests 
according  to  a  strict  etiquette,  as  to  the  details 
of  which  there  is  considerable  uncertainty.  The 
eagerness  of  the  Pharisees  to  secure  for  themselves 
the  'chief  seats'  (wpaTOKXtalat)  at  feasts  brought 
on  them  the  rebuke  of  Jesus  (Lk  14'"),  and  gave 
occasion  to  His  warnings  to  the  disciples  to  avoid 
such  unseemly  eagerness  for  personal  honour  (Mt 
23«,  Mk  12'«f-,  Lk  20«f-). 

Besides  the  guest-chambers  of  private  houses, 
there  were,  as  there  are  now,  in  most  villages  one 
or  more  guest-chambers,  provided  and  maintained 
at  the  public  expense,  for  the  accommodation  of 
travellers  who  arrived  in  larger  numbers  than 
could  be  privately  entertained.  They  were  shelters 
for  man  and  beast  of  a  very  simple  kind.  Some 
think  that  the  '  inn '  of  Bethlehem  (Lk  2')  was  of 
this  character,  but  others  are  of  opinion  that  it 
was  rather  an  inn  under  the  care  of  a  host,  like 
the  TavSoxe'Ov  of  Lk  10**. 

LiTERATl'EE.  — Hastings'   DB, 
Encyc.  BibL, art. 'House' ;  Jetri  .... 

Trumbull,  Studies  in  Oriental  .Social  Life,  pp.  73-142;  Van 
Lennep,  Manmrs  and  Viistums  in  Bible  Lands,  pp.  442,  68911. ; 
Robinson,  BRP^i.  p.  80  f.,  ii.  p.  isfl. ;  Lane,  Modem  Ei/i/P- 
tians,  i.  p.  6ff.;  Expositor's  Greek  Testament,  ad  loc;  Swete, 
Com.  on  Mark;  Edersheim,  Life  and  Times  of  Jesus  the 
Messiah,  i.  664,  ii.  206,  483,  493. 

Charles  S.  MACALriNE. 
GUIDE.— 1.  The  word '  guide.'— In  AV  of  Gospels 
the  noun  '  guide '  is  found  only  in  Mt  23"'- "',  wliere 
it  represents  65riy6s  (lit.  '  a  leader  of  the  way '). 
6Ji)76!  occurs  also,  however,  in  Mt  15'^  where  RV 
has  consistently  substituted  '  blind  guides '  for 
'blind  leaders'  of  AV  (cf.  Ac  1'",  Ro  2i»).  As  a 
verb,   'guide'  in  AV  of  Gospels  represents  two 


GUILT 


different  words  in  the  original,  (a)  ddriyiw  (from 
65?;76s)  in  Jn  16''.  65j)7^ai  is  found  also  in  Mt  IS", 
Lk  6=»  (cf.  Ac  8^',  Kev  7"),  but  is  there  rendered 
'lead'  in  AV,  which  RV  again  properly  changes 
to  'guide.'  (4)  KaTei'Svuu  (lit.  'to  make  straight'), 
which  occurs  only  once  in  Gospels  (Lk  1™ ;  but  cf. 
1  Th  3",  2  Th  3^).  An  interesting  contrast  might 
be  drawn  between  the  false  oSriyol,  the  'blind 
leaders  of  the  blind '  (Mt  15"  23'",  Lk  6^'),  and  the 
true  iSrjySs  (who  is  also  Himself  ii  6S6s,  Jn  14*),  who 
came  into  the  worUt  to  '  set  our  feet  straight'  into 
the  way  of  peace  (Lk  1™),  who  promised  before  His 
departure  that  He  would  send  the  Spirit  of  truth 
to  guide  His  people  into  all  the  truth  (Jn  16'^),  and 
who  will  Himself  hereafter  'guide  them  to  life- 
giving  springs  of  water'  (Rev  7").  With  Christ 
as  oSjjyis  of  His  people  cf.  the  apxvyli^  of  Ac  3'^  5'', 
He  2'"  12=. 

2.  C/irist  as  our  Guide. — To  communities  and  to 
individuals,  otherwise  walking  in  darkness,  Christ 
is  their  Guide,  the  Shepherd  leading  His  sheep,  the 
Light  preceding  His  people.  There  can  be  only 
one  Guide, — a  man  cannot  follow  the  lodestar  and 
also  make  for  every  flickering  will-o'-the-wisp  that 
allures  and  entices  him.  Christ  has  deliberately 
and  finally  claimed  the  guidance  of  mankind.  He 
bade  sincere  aspirants  after  life  follow,  not  the  Law 
as  such,  nor  even  God  as  unincarnate,  but  Him-iclf, 
the  Law-in-character  and  the  God-in-man  (Lk  IS-", 
Mt  le",  Jn  12™).  His  guidance  is  to  be  universal 
in  its  scope  (Jn  I''- '),  and  will  be  sufficient  in  its 
nature  (Jn  21'--).  Without  Him  the  mass  of  men 
are  as  sheep  without  a  shepherd  (Mt  9*^).  He 
alone  reveals  God  to  man  (Mt  11"),  and  so  displays 
the  goal  of  man's  being.  He  taught,  therefore,  as 
one  having  unique  authority  (Mt  7-"),  and  rightly 
draws  all  men  to  Himself  (Jn  12'-).  He  Himself, 
and  no  other  conceivably  or  possibly,  is  the  Way 
as  well  as  tlie  Truth  and  the  Life  (Jn  14«).  Hence 
the  warning :  '  Take  heed  that  no  man  lead  you 
astray'  (Mk  13').  And  so,  on  the  other  hand,  the 
impossibility  of  the  Christian's  seeking  any  other 
guidance,  expressed  in  St.  Peter's  exclamation : 
'Lord,  to  whom  shall  we  go?'  (Jn  6^).  Of  this 
sole  claim  and  unique  authority  the  three  chosen 
disciples  heard  the  ratification  in  the  bewildering 
glory  of  the  TransKguration :  '  This  is  my  beloved 
Sou  :  hear  ye  him  '  (Mk  9').  This  guida,nce  Christ 
gives  to  His  follower  by  His  Holy  Spirit,  guiding 
into  all  the  truth  (Jn  16")  ;  and  very  especially 
through  tlie  Holy  Scriptures,  wliich  tell  of  Him 
(Jn  5''),  and  whose  meaning  He  can  make  plain 
(Lk  24"-«).  Christ  Himself  ratified  the  guidance 
afforded  by  Scripture  at  crises  of  His  life,  in  which 
example  and  precept  were  wedded  together  in 
indissoluble  union,  as  in  the  Temptation,  the 
Cleansing  of  the  Temple,  and  on  the  Cross  (Lk 
4.  19*«  23^'=). 

To  put  it  in  another  way,  the  Father's  will  was 
Christ's  will,  even  to  the  uttermost :  '  Not  what  I 
will,  but  wliat  thou  wilt '  (Mk  U'^).  So  Christ 
guides  us  to  union  with  God,  our  true  destiny  ; 
through  Him  we  come  to  the  Father  (Jn  14*). 
Hence  His  guidance  is  into  peace  (Lk  1'"),  as  the 
aged  Zacharias  felt  and  declared.  It  is  the  steady, 
unvarying  guidance  of  the  heart  towards  its  Divine 
home,  the  love  of  God,  as  the  name  Inimnnuel 
suggests  (Mt  1^).  It  is  an  absolute  guidance,  or 
no  guidance  (Lk  9"-*-). 

W.  B.  Franklaxd. 

GUILE.— See  Deceit. 

GUILT  is  the  state  of  the  sinner  before  God, 
whereby,  becoming  the  object  of  God's  ^^Tath,  he 
incurs  the  debt  and  punishment  of  death.  So 
closely  are  Sin,  Guilt,  and  Death  connected,  both 
in  the  OT  and  NT,  tliat  tlie  terms  are  almost 
interchangeable,  and  cai)  be  adequately  discussed 


suffice  in  the  present  article  to  show  that  the 
removal  of  guilt  was  the  object  of  Christ's  death, 
and  that  the  recognition  of  sin  as  guilt  is  in  conse- 
quence a  prominent,  if  not  the  primary  feature  of 
tlie  teaching  of  the  NT  concerning  sin. 

1.  The  gospel,  as  first  preached  bv  the  Baptist 
(Mt  3-)  and  Jesus  Himself  (Mk  1",  Mt  42^  10'),  was 
the  Kingdom  of  God.  Even  the  Fouith  Evangelist, 
who  usually  presents  it  as  Eternal  Life,  mtnesses 
to  this  fact  ( Jn  3'-  %  The  message,  therefore,  as 
coupled  with  the  summons  to  repentance,  involves 
a  restoration  of  personal  relations,  God  reigning  in 
the  midst  of  a  reconciled  people.  Baptism,  though 
the  symbolism  of  cleansing  is  employed,  is  '  unto 
remission'  (Mk  1*,  Lk  3^)  rather  than  to  the  wash- 
ing away  of  sins ;  remission  being  not  a  vital  act 
by  whicii  sinners  are  made  just,  but  a  personal 
favour  (Mt  6'-,  cf.  1  Jn  P)  by  which  they  are 
accounted  righteous.  The  risen  Lord  expressly 
carries  on  this  \iew  of  His  atoning  work  into  the 
proclamation  of  the  completed  Christian  gospel. 
Remission  of  sins  was  to  be  preached  in  His  name 
among  all  the  nations  (Lk  24",  cf.  Mt  28").  To 
this  message  the  primitive  preaching  shows  an 
exact  fidelity  (Ac  2**  5'i  10«  IZ^  26'»).  The  ex- 
pression '  blotted  out '  in  Ac  3"  emphasizes  for- 
giveness as  the  cancelling  of  an  account.  And 
the  statement  of  St.  Paul  in  Ac  17™  (cf.  Ro  3»), 
that  God  had  '  overlooked '  the  times  of  ignorance, 
again  gives  prominence  to  the  personal  relation. 

It  is  the  guilt  rather  than  the  infection  of  sin 
which  appears  in  the  teaching  of  Jes^is.  The 
analogy  between  disease  and  sin,  which  the  miracles 
of  healing  suggest,  might  appear  to  show  the 
contrary.  But  it  is  doubtful  wiiether  the  transi- 
tion from  the  sickness  of  the  body  to  that  of  the 
soul  would  have  presented  itself  to  the  Hebrew  in 
this  form,  and  not  rather  through  the  conception 
of  suffering  as  the  punishment  of  sin.  It  is  this, 
for  example,  that  makes  the  problem  of  the 
'  marred  visage '  of  Jehovah's  Servant  (Is  52i'-"'  53). 
And  the  interpretation  given  by  our  Lord  Himself 
in  the  case  of  the  paralytic  seems  to  be  decisive. 
His  power  to  cure  tlie  body  is  the  evidence,  not  of 
His  power  to  heal  the  soul,  but  of  His  authority 
(iiovaia)  to  forgive  sins  (Mk  2'").  It  is  the  'debts' 
which  remain  as  the  permanent  result  of  past 
'  trespasses,'  for  which  we  ask  forgiveness  in  the 
Lord's  Prayer  (Mt  6'-,  Lk  11^) ;  and  when  we  crave 
deliverance,  it  is  not  from  the  sick  will,  but  from 
the  '  Evil  One'  (Mt  6"),  the  personal  enemy  of  God 
who  has  received  a  guilty  allegiance.  The  im- 
portance of  this  aspect  of  sin  is  further  marked 
by  the  requirement  of  human  forgiveness  as  the 
condition  because  the  pattern  of  Divine  remission 
(Mt  6"- ''  18-'-=").  What,  therefore,  is  removed  is 
not,  in  the  first  instance,  the  subjective  conse- 
quences, but  an  objective  result  of  sin.  If  it  be 
urged  that  Christ  discharges  the  latter  only  in 
virtue  of  the  fact  that  He  destroys  the  former,  as 
expressed  in  the  words  '  it  is  he  that  shall  save  his 
people  from  their  sins'  (Mt  1^',  but  cf.  Ro  5'),  the 
reply  is  that  Jesus  is  here  represented  as  Saviour 
in  the  sense  in  whicli  Messiah  was  to  save,  and 
that  this  is  determined  by  the  meaning  of  '  salva- 
tion '  as  developed  in  the  theology  of  the  OT.  The 
root  idea  of  the  Messianic  salvation  is  liberation 
not    remedy    (Ex  14"    15=,   Is  45"  46"   52'»,    Lk 

169.  71.  77). 

Again,  attention  must  be  paid  to  the  promi- 
nence given  to  judgment,  especially  the  Day  of 
Judgment,  in  the  Synoptic  narrative  (Mt  5='- =2  71-2 

IQlS  1120-S4  1236.37.  41. 1JJ6-.-7.  28  1 928  04 POSsi'"  25 1*"""' 26", 

Lk  12'*-  °").  The  unquenchable  fire  is  not  merely 
the  automatic  result  of  sin  bringing  forth  death, 
but  punishment  inflicted  by  judicial  sentence  (Mk 
9«.48^  Mt  25-").      The  wicked  are  workers  of  in- 


GUILT 


GUILT 


697 


iquity  giving  account  for  idle  words  and  deeds  (Mt 
12»«  16'").  Blasphemy  against  the  Holy  Spirit, 
however  it  be  interpreted,  incurs  condemnation  as 
the  unpardonable  sin  (Mk  3^-  =»,  Mt  123'-  3=).  It  is 
the  personal  relation,  and  therefore  the  guilt  of  sin, 
which  appears  in  the  parables  of  the  Lost  Sheep, 
etc.  (Lk  15).  The  joy  of  the  angels  is  represented 
as  arising  out  of  the  reconciliation  between  the 
Father  and  the  penitent  (Lk  15"*).  The  expiatory 
character  of  the  Cross  is  not  so  fully  evident. 
But  Jesus  gives  His  life  a  ransom  (Mk  lO^'*  ||) ;  the 


Agony  was  a  cup  given  by  Hi.s  Father  (Mk  14^*  |i); 
the  sorrow  of  death  was  the  forsaking  by  God  (Mk 
15**  II) ;  the  peace  of  Calyary  the  self-committal  to 


the  Father  (Lk  23«) 

2.  The  Gospel  of  St.  John,  dwelling,  as  it  does, 
upon  the  gift  of  God  as  life,  truth,  and  light,  might 
seem  on  a  superficial  reading  to  obscure,  if  not  to 
ignore,  the  view  of  sin  as  guilt.  But  even  the 
Prologue  couples  grace,  or  God's  free  favour,  with 
truth  as  that  which  came  by  Jesus  Christ,  and 
that  in  antithesis  to  the  Law  given  by  Moses  (Jn 
1").  The  witness  of  the  Baptist  is  to  the  Lamb  of 
God  (l''''-^'),  a  sacrificial  term  involving  expiation 
(193«  ;  cf.  Ex  12*  Nu  9'=,  1  Co  5',  Jn  6==  with  West- 
cott's  note).  To  believe  on  the  name  of  the  Son  of 
God  is  to  escape  judgment  (Jn  3"  5'^).  It  is  'ac- 
cusation to  the  Father'  which  the  Jews  have  to 
fear  (5^).  Through  Christ  we  come  to  the  Father 
(14*).  The  commission  of  the  risen  Christ  to  His 
disciples  is  to  forgive  and  retain  sins  (20^  ;  cf.  Mt 
lgi9  igis).  It  is  the  confession  and  forgiveness  of 
sins  which  the  First  Epistle  represents  as  eft'ecting 
the  cleansing  from  sin  and  unrighteousness  through 
the  sacrificial  blood  and  heavenly  intercession  of 
our  Advocate  with  the  Father  (1  Jn  2'-  =).  The 
use  of  avo/ila,,  '  lawlessness,'  as  a  synonym  for  a/iap- 
tIo.,  'sin,'  implies  the  guilt  of  a  broken  law  (3*). 
The  condemnation  or  acquittal  of  the  heart  reflects 
the  judgment  of  God  (3™).  In  the  Apocalypse,  sin 
is  set  in  relation  to  Him  that  sitteth  on  the  throne 
(Rev  42),  incurring  His  wrath  (6'«),  noted  in  His 
Ijooks  (20'2),  and  receiving  His  plagues  (15'). 

3.  It  is  difficult  to  set  forth  St.  Paul's  theory  of 
guilt  without  entering  upon  the  wliole  question  of 
his  view  of  sin.  But  a  few  considerations  will 
make  it  clear  that  he  looks  at  sin,  in  the  first 
instance,  as  inciirring  guilt.  It  is  represented  as 
an  act  committed  against  God  (Ro  1-').  All  its 
essential  features  are  recapitulated  in  each  indi- 
vidual sin  or  transgression.  It  is  only  through  the 
Law  that  it  can  appear  as  what  it  is  (3""  7').  It 
can  only  be  separated  from  its  actual  raanifesta 


on  the  part  of  Adam  (5'').  Death  is  not  so 
much  its  consequence  as  its  punishment  or  wages 
(513  6^),  not  following  automatically,  but  in- 
flicted by  the  sentence  of  an  ofl'ended  God  (1'*', 
Eph  5°,  Col  3*).  It  involves  responsibility  (Ro  1^°), 
desert  (P-),  condemnation  (5"'-'*).  The  work  of 
Christ  is  primarily  an  act  of  righteous  obedience 
(518. 19^  pii  08),  undoing  the  act  of  disobedience  in 
which  all  sin  is  included  ;  an  offering  for  sin  con- 
demning sin  in  the  flesh  (Bo  8'),  and  wiping  off  the 
score  of  trespasses  (Col  2").  Its  eft'ect  in  the 
broadest  view  is  a  reversal  of  the  sentence  of  con- 
demnation (Ro  8')  and  reconciliation  with  God  (5'°, 
2  Co  5'*"-").  St.  Paul's  view  of  the  function  of  law 
must  liere  be  remembered.  The  analogy  of  a 
therapeutic  drug,  administered  in  order  that  the 
disease  may  declare  itself,  is  apt  to  mislead.  This 
is  not  in  the  Apostle's  thought.  For  trespasses  or 
transgressions  are  themselves  sin,  not  merely  its 
symptoms  (Eph  2'- »).  It  is  the  removal  of  these, 
not  of  a  cause  distinguishable  from  them,  which 
is  the  piirpose  of  the  Cross  (Ro  4-^ ;  cf.  5'  8'-). 
Death,  which  passed  upon  all  men  in  consequence 


of  transgression  (5'-),  reigned  from  Adam  to  Moses 
(5").  The  figure  is  that  of  a  ruler  to  whose  sway 
all  men  have  as  a  penalty  been  judicially  consigned, 
and  from  whose  custody  the  free  favour  of  God 
in  Christ  releases  them.  'All  have  sinned'  (5'-), 
whether  with  or  without  an  explicit  publication 
of  law.  St.  Paul  would  not  have  allowed  that 
tlirough  an  involuntary  taint  of  heredity  men 
had  at  any  time  suffered  without  personal  guilt. 
The  Gentiles  have  the  Law,  being  enlightened  by 
conscience  (2"'-  '= ;  cf .  Mt  25"-'"').  Though  the  Law 
is  not  explicitly  revealed,  they  are  in  effect  trans- 
gressors. If  in  Ro  4'5  St.  Paul  declares  that  '  the 
law  worketh  wrath,'  because  'where  there  is  no 
law,  neither  is  tliere  transgression,'  in  Gal  3"  he 
says  rather  that  the  Law  was  added  {wptxreT^eri), 
came  in  between  the  promise  and  its  fulfilment, 
because  of  transgressions ;  i.e.  to  bring  home  un- 
mistakably to  those  who  were  already  guilty  the 
conviction  of  their  offences. 

So  we  are  brought  to  the  evidence  of  the  doctrine 
of  justification.  Without  pressing  the  forensic 
metaphor  to  a  point  inconsistent  with  St.  Paul's 
thought,  which  would  relegate  the  whole  theology 
of  guilt  to  a  region  of  formal  conceptions  un- 
checked by  experience,  we  are  bound  to  remember 
that  the  Apostle  is  concerned  with  the  probation 
of  guilt  assumed  to  exist,  which  is  necessary  before 
the  sinner  can  throw  himself  upon  the  offer  of 
free  salvation  secured  to  him  through  the  gospel. 
Justification  is  not  in  itself  a  change  of  character, 
a  transformation  of  life,  but  an  alteration  of 
status  (Ro  5'-,  Eph  2''),  a  reversal  of  relations 
whereby  the  '  servants  of  sin '  (Ro  6"),  '  the  chil- 
dren of  wrath'  (Eph  2')  become  'children  of  grace,' 
'  sons  of  God '  ((ial  3=").  It  is  the  antithesis  of 
trespasses  (Ro  4'-^),  no  more  to  be  confused  with 
sanctifieation,  -nliich  is  its  fruit  (6-),  than  is  trans- 
gression with  uncleanness,  whicli  is  its  issue  (1-''). 
To  be  justified  from  sin  is  to  have  escaped— either 
by  paying  the  penalty  of  death  (6')  or  by  belie\'ing 
in  Christ  Jesus  {Z^*-  -=)— from  what  in  a  figure  is 
regarded  as  its  claim  or  dominion  over  the  life 
(6'*"").  involving  an  obedience  or  yielding  of  the 
members.  This  is  entirely  in  harmony  with  the 
conception  of  sin,  from  which  St.  Paul  starts,  as  a 
voluntary  withdrawal  of  allegiance  admitting  of 
no  excuse. 

We  shall  be  saved  from  confusion  with  regard  to  the  Pauline 
view  of  guilt,  and  the  necessity  of  conforming  the  whole 
doctrine  of  sin  to  this  primarj'  idea,  by  considering  what  he 
means  by  'adoption '  and  '  grace.'  There  is  no  clear  instance  in 
any  Epistle  of  the  use  of  the  word  x''f<  in  its  later  ecclesiastical 
sense  of  an  infusion  of  spiritual  strength  (see  Sanday-Headlani, 
limnans,  note  on  15  x^P'^).  In  some  passages,  apart  from  other 
considerations,  the  term  admits  of  this  Interpretation  (e.g. 
Eph  4').  But  the  root  idea  is  the  free  favour  of  God  through 
Christ  (Ro  i*  6>»).  It  is  not,  therefore,  an  imparted  gift,  but 
an  attitude  of  the  Divine  Mind.  Again,  the  conception  of  son- 
ship,  as  applied  to  the  relation  of  the  believer  to  God,  while 
not  excluding  comnmnitv  of  nature,  gives  prominence  rather  to 
the  elective  purpose  of  the  Father  (Eph  15).  It  is  not  reached 
as  a  deduction  from  membership  in  Christ,  as  though  the 
highest  action  of  Divine  grace  were  nothing  more  than  the 
operation  of  a  natural  law.  Modern  theology,  with  its  leading 
idea  of  solidarity,  has  tended  to  obscure  the  personal  action  of 
the  Father  in  admitting  mankind  to  fellowship.  St.  Paul's 
thought,  on  the  other  hand,  is  guided  by  the  Hebraic  concep- 
tion of  the  son  and  heir,  with  its  notion  of  privilege  rather  than 
primogeniture  (Ex  4'2=,  .Jer  31»,  Ps  8927,  Col  116,  He  1223 ;  cf. 
Job  1813,  la  1430).  Thus  the  Christian  attains  his  rank  in  the 
family  of  God  by  'adojition'  (Gal  45,  Eph  1=  ;  cf.  Gal  326,  where 
sonship  is  presented  as  a  privilege  granted  S.a  t-.;;  TitrTiat;)-  The 
Spirit  which  makes  him  a  member  of  Christ  is  the  'Spirit  of 
adoption '  (Ro  815),  freelv  given  bv  God  to  those  whom  He  takes 
for  His  children  (Gal  4«,  Ro  55  89-ii,  1  Co  1213).  Membership  in 
Christ  is  thus  rather  the  result  than  the  cause  of  the  filial  rela- 
tion. The  Christian  life  depends,  not  upon  the  eradication  of 
evil,  but  upon  the  forgiveness  of  sins  (Eph  1'),  the  clearing  of 
the  guilty  on  the  part  of  a  personal  God  in  consequence  of  the 
personal  'satisfaction  offered  by  Christ  (Ro  321-28  58,  cf.  Ex  346-  0- 
This  view  of  sonship,  as  involving  God's  elective  purpose  and 
man  s  free  response,  frequently  underlies  St.  Paul  s  argument. 
Isaac  is  the  child  of  promise  (Gal  3I8  4'23.  =9,  Ro  420  98.  9),  Abra- 
ham the  father  of  the  faithful  (Gal  37,  Ro  41'.!).  The  redemption 
of  the  body  is  itself  an  'adoption  '  (Ro  S'^i). 


698 


GUILT 


GULF 


i.  The  Epistle  to  the  Eebrems  brings  out  the 
various  elements  in  tlie  conception  of  human  guilt 
with  conspicuous  clearness.  We  have  to  do  with 
the  living  God  (He  3'-  4^- 10^')>  who  is  a  consuming 
fire(12'''),  self -existent  and  separate  from  creation 
(121'--'),  the  supreme  lawgiver  and  judge  (10^° 
12-^),  whom  to  see,  therefore,  demands  a  purify- 
ing separation  on  the  part  of  His  suppliant  wor- 
shipper (O"  10"-).  What  men  need  is  boldness  to 
approach  His  throne  (4'"  10'"),  and  so  to  enter  into 
His  rest  (4"''-).  But  there  is  an  obstacle,  typified 
by  propitiatory  rites  and  attested  by  universal 
experience  (9'''"'  lO'- ").  The  comers  thereunto 
need  a  reXeiuo-is  (2'°- "),  the  accomplishment  of  a 
preliminary  act  of  satisfaction  (2"  5")  which  shall 
render  them  competent.  The  experience,  which 
justifies  the  fulfilment  of  rites  felt  to  be  inade- 
quate, is  the  fear  of  death  (2'^),  the  spirit  of 
bondage  (ib.),  the  evil  conscience  (10^^).  This  is 
not  the  same  thing  as  ignorance,  error,  or  in- 
firmity (5=),  all  of  which  are  recognized  as  present 
in  human  character  and  requiring  to  be  dealt  with. 
It  is  the  consciousness  that  the  offerer  has  a  past 
which  reijentance  cannot  separate  from  him  in  re- 
spect of  his  relation  to  the  Everliving  (lO--^- -"• -'), 
a  record  of  offences  for  which  none  but  One  who 
Himself  '  ever  liveth '  can  atone  by  an  abiding 
intercession  (7^,  of.  10'-).  The  conscience  must  be 
purged  from  dead  works  (9'''  10-'-),  which  are  to  be 
distinguished  from  their  present  results  in  char- 
acter. The  'redemption  of  transgressions'  (9'^; 
cf.  Ac  17'",  Ro  3=^-  ==),  the  removal  of  a  burden  (2''* 
Ivoxoi.  dovXdas,  cf.  Ja  2'°),  is  the  method  whereby 
consecration  to  God's  service  and  boldness  of  access 
are  secured.  Even  sanctification  itself  in  Hebrews 
(12",  cf.  29-"  lO'"- "  13'=)  is,  not  indeed  the  formal 
consecration  of  the  sinner,  but  the  removal  of  the 
'weight'  of  guilt  (12'),  of  which  the  fulness  of 
faith  ( 10^-)  is  the  counterpart  in  spiritual  experience. 

5.  That  guilt  is  original,  i.e.  attaches  to  all  man- 
kind, and  may  be  predicated  of  each  individual 
before  particular  evidence  of  transgression,  is  im- 
plied in  the  facts  of  redemption  (see  art.  Sin), 
and  explicitly  taught  in  the  NT.  In  the  famous 
passage  Ro  5'^"^'  nothing  is  said  of  a  transmitted 
tendency  to  sin,  though  it  has  been  often  supposed 
that  this  is  implied.  But  St.  Paul  does  say  that 
death  '  passed  unto  all  men '  through  Adam's 
transgression.  The  context  shows  that  death  is 
here  regarded  as  a  punishment  inflicted  by  God. 
And  guilt  is  implied  in  the  remarkable  sentence 
'  all  have  sinned,'  which  interprets  the  statement 
that  'through  one  man  sin  entered.'  How  St. 
Paul  reached  this  apparent  parado.x  seems  clear 
from  a  consideration  of  Jewish  theology.  The  OT 
bears  abundant  witness  to  the  belief  that  the  sins 
(plural)  of  the  fathers  are  'visited'  upon  the  chil- 
dren (Ex  20'  34'),  while  n.t  the  same  time  the 
teaching  of  P'zekii'l  Ij.ilaiices  it  by  an  emphatic 
vindication  of  tin-  Nr|..ualc  n's|ionsibility  of  each 
soul  (Ezk  18^- -").  .\|i,(il  Iron  1  the  narrative  of  the 
Fall,  which  indiiulc^  a  jn'iialty  involving  the  seed 
of  the  woman  (Gn  3''- '"),  this  is,  perhaps,  as  far  as 
the  OT  carries  us.  But  the  Book  of  Wisdom  (2=*) 
represents  death  as  entering  the  world  through  the 
envy  of  the  devil,  and  Sirach  (25")  declares  that 
sin  originated  from  a  woman,  and  '  because  of  her 
we  all  die.'  The  teaching  of  the  Rabbis,  however, 
differentiating  the  actual  transgression  of  Adam 
from  the  potentiality  of  sin  involved  in  his  creation, 
expressly  asserts  that  death  was  decreed  against 
the  generations  of  Adam.  Elsewhere  death  is 
spoken  of  as  incurred  by  the  personal  guilt  of  each 


individual,  and  the  statement  of  tlie  Apocalypse  of 
Baruch  {54'^-  '^),  that  '  each  of  us  is  the  Attam  of 
his  own  soul,'  looks  like  an  attempt  to  express  a 
mystery  which  alone  can  reconcile  these  divergent 
views.  According  to  Weber  {Altst/nag.  Thcol. 
p.  216),  the  nett  result  of  Talmudie  teaching 
appears  to  be  that  '  by  the  Fall  man  came  under 
a  curse,  is  guilty  of  death,  and  his  right  relation 
to  God  is  rendered  difficult.'  It  is  probably  only 
in  the  sense  of  transmitted  taint  that  Edersheim 
(Life  and  Times,  etc.  i.  p.  165  tt'. )  disallows  original 
sin  as  part  of  the  doctrine  of  the  older  Rabbis ; 
for,  in  common  with  other  writers,  he  acknow- 
ledges the  frequent  assertion  of  inherited  guilt. 
That  St.  Paul  was  familiar  witli  this  prevalent 
view  hardly  admits  of  doubt,  or  that  he  availed 
himself  of  it  to  interpret  the  relation  of  Jesus  the 
Messiah  to  the  whole  human  race,  as  giving  the 
victory  over  sin,  the  wages  of  which  is  death  (Ro 
6'''"),  and  the  power  of  which  is  the  outraged  law 
(1  Co  15=8). 
Literature.— See  art  Sin.  J.  G.  SIMPSON. 

GULF  (xa<r/ia,  from  x<>-^'"^t  to  yawn,  gape,  open 
wide,  Lk  16-'"  only.  Chasma  (shortened,  citasm)  is 
the  exact  transliteration  of  the  Greek,  l)ut  this 
word,  in  general  use,  is  later  than  the  AV.  Tindale 
has  '  a  great  space,'  and  the  Geneva  VS  '  a  great 
gulfe,'  with  'swallowing  pit'  in  the  margin). — It 
is  interesting  to  compare  with  this  other  represen- 
tations of  the  division  between  the  worlds  of  the 
unseen.  In  Plato's  vision  in  the  RepiMie  there  is 
an  intermediate  space  where  judges  are  seated, 
who  divide  to  the  right  hand  or  to  the  left  accord- 
ing as  men  are  found  just  or  unjust.  Return  to 
the  upper  world  is  possible ;  but  when  any  incurable 
or  unpunished  sinners  tried  to  ascend,  '  the  opening, 
instead  of  receiving  them,  gave  forth  a  sound,  and 
then  wild  men  of  tieiy  aspect,  who  were  standing 
by  and  knew  what  the  sound  meant,'  seized  and 
carried  them  to  be  cast  into  hell  (Jowett's  Plato, 
iii.  512  f. ).  Virgil's  vision  is  of  '  a  cavern,  deep  and 
huge,  with  its  vast  mouth,  craggy,  sheltered  by  its 
black  lake  and  forest  gloom,  o'er  which  no  birds 
niiglit  speed  along  unharmed  ;  such  an  exhalation, 
pouring  from  its  black  jaws,  rose  to  the  vault  of 
heaven ;  wherefore  the  Greeks  named  the  spot 
Avernus.'  The  '  dreadful  prison-house '  is  guarded 
by  a  '  gate  of  ponderous  size,  with  pillars  of  solid 
adamant ;  so  tliat  no  mortal  might,  nay,  nor  the 
dwellers  in  the  sky,  are  strong  enough  to  tlirow  it 
down  in  war'  {JUneid,  vi.  236 f.,  553  f.).  Coming 
to  Jewish  representations,  the  Book  of  Enoch 
speaks  of  three  separations  between  the  spirits  of 
the  dead, — 'by  a  chasm,  by  water,  and  by  light 
above  it'  (ch.  22).  In  Rabbinical  teaching  (cf. 
Weber,  JUd.  Theol.^  341)  the  separation  between 
Paradise  and  Ge-hinnom  is  minimized  ;  it  is  but 
'a  wall,'  'a  palm-breadth,'  a  'finger- breadth,'  'a 
thread.'  With  this  representation  the  'great 
gulf  of  the  parable  is  in  striking  contrast.  It 
would  be  obviously  wrong  to  interpret  literally,  or 
even  to  insist  upon  some  spiritual  counterpart  of 
tlie  detail  of  tlie  parable,  as  it  would  be  wrong  to 
base  upon  the  jjarable  as  a  whole  any  doctrine  of 
the  future  over  and  above  its  clear  moral  lesson 
and  warning.  But  the  solemn  words  of  Jesus  as 
to  the  po.ssibility  and  danger  of  the  fixity  of  char- 
acter in  evil  must  not  be  lightly  set  aside  (see 
Eternal  Sin). 

Literature.  —  Bruce,  Parabolic  Teachimj,  p.  393 ;  Salmond, 
Christian  Doctrine  of  Immortality,  p.  277. 

W.  H.  Dyson. 


HADES 


H 


HADES.— See  Dead,  Eschatology,  and  Hell 
(Descent  into). 

HAIR.— Tlie  Jews  seem  to  have  shared  with 
other  peoples  the  belief  that  the  hair  is  really  '  a 
living  and  important  part  of  the  body'  (W.  R. 
Smith,  MS^  324 ;  Frazer,  Golden  Bough\  iii.  390). 
This  lent  importance  to  the  oath  by  the  head 
which  was  common  among  them  (Mt  S-'"),  and  it 
accounts  for  the  attention  given  to  the  hair  in  con- 
nexion with  vows  (Ac  18'" ;  Jos.  BJ  II.  xv.  1  ;  on 
hair  as  oft'ering  and  in  vows  see  W.  R.  Smith,  I.e. 
323 ff.;  Frazer,  I.e.  i.  370 ft'.).  In  NT  times  long 
hair  was  regarded  as  a  glory  of  women,  but  a  dis- 
grace to  men  (1  Co  11"-  '*).  Opinion  had  changed 
since  the  days  of  Absalom. 


nt  sentiment  survives.     Many 
lads'  (RS^   326),  take 
interesting  also  to  note  a 
'    '    ■       The  Jews  in 


Among  the  Arabs  the 
stalwart  men,  not  merel; 
pride  in  their  long  glossy  locks 
change  from  the  NT  attitude 
Poland  permit  no  married  wonian  to  wear  hei 
be  cropped  close  before  the  wedding,  and  replaced  by  a  high 
head-dress  of  wool  or  silk.  It  is  a  terrible  sin  to  neglect  this 
rule  (Hosmer,  '  The  Jews,'  p.  363,  in  Story  of  the  Natiom). 

It  was  customary  to  dress  the  hair  with  ointment 
(Mt  6"),  and  women  bestowed  much  care  upon  tlie 
coiffure  (1  Ti  S^,  IP  3^).  It  was  a  shame  for  a 
woman  to  appear  with  locks  unbound  and  hair 
dishevelled. 

Lightfoot  {Works,  ed.  1823,  xii.  361)  gives  two  Rabbinic  quota- 
tions in  point.  '  Kamitha  had  seven  sons  who  all  performed  the 
office  of  high  priests ;  they  asked  of  her  how  she  came  to  this 
honour?  She  answered,  "The  rafters  of  my  house  never  saw 
the  hair  of  ray  head  " '  ( Vayyilfra  liabba,  fol.  188.  2).  '  The  priest 
unloosed  the  hair '  of  the  suspected  woman,  about  to  be  tried  by 
the  bitter  water,  '  for  greater  disgrace '  {Sota,  fol.  5.  1). 

When  Mary  ( Jn  12^)  wiped  the  feet  of  Jesus  with 
her  hair,  she  thus  'testified  that,  as  no  sacrifice 
was  too  costly  for  her  purse,  so  no  service  was  too 
mean  for  her  person'  (Godet,  in  loe.). 

Abundant  hair  on  head  and  diin  has  always 
been  regarded  by  Easterns  as  lending  dignity  to 
manhood,  and  the  beard  is  an  object  of  special 
reverence.  '  I  smootli  my  beard,'  says  Doughty, 
'toward  one  to  admonish  him  in  his  wrongful 
dealing  with  me,  and  have  put  him  in  mind  of  his 
honour.  If  I  touch  his  beard,  I  put  him  in  remem- 
brance of  our  common  humanity,  and  of  the  wit- 
ness of  God  above  us.  The  beard  is  taken  in 
Arabia  for  human  honour,  and  to  pluck  it  is  the 
highest  indignity.  Of  an  honest  man  they  say,  "His 
is  a  good  beard  ;  of  a  vile,  covetous  heart,  "  He  has 
no  beard'"  (Arabia  Benertn,  i.  268).  What  indignity 
then  He  suffered  of  whom  the  prophet  wrote,  '  I 
gave  .  .  .  my  cheeks  to  them  that  plucked  off  the 
hair'!  (Is  50"). 

Single  hairs  are  taken  to  illustrate  the  minute- 
ness of  God's  care  (Mt  10™,  Lk  12'  21'8).  White 
hairs  are  a  symbol  of  reverend  and  glorious  majesty 
(Rev  I'J).  The  long  hair,  as  of  women,  adds  to  the 
grotesque  and  terrible  appearance  of  the  locust 
monsters  (Rev  9"). 

The  Baptist's  garment  of  camel's  hair  (Spi^  kom^- 
Xou,  Mt  S'')  is  probably  identical  with  •tsv  n-iiK  of  Zee 
IS-",  and  that  of  his  great  prototype  (2  K  1",  where 
we  should  read  with  RVm  'a  man  with  a  garment 
of  hair ').  The  rough  outer  cloak  generally  worn 
is  of  goats'  hair.  Wahar  al-ibil,  the  hair,  or  wool, 
(0pl^  can  also  mean  'wool,'  II.  iii.  273,  Hes.  Op. 
515)  of  the  camel  is  softer,  and  of  this  an  inner 
cloak  is  often  worn,  e.g.  in  winter  by  the  fisher- 
men on  the  Sea  of  Galilee. 

Goats'  hair  is  not  named  in  NT,  but  most  likely 


this  was  the  material  in  which  the  Apostle  Paul 
wrouglit  at  his  trade  (Ac  18'),  his  native  i)rovince 
supplying  it  in  great  quantities. 

W.  EWING. 
HALL. — '  Hall '  appears  in  the  AV  in  a  way  to 
cause  not  a  little  confusion,  as  tr.  sometimes  of 
auXi;  and  sometimes  of  TrpaiTiipiov.  In  Mt  27"'  AV 
has  '  tlie  soldiers  of  the  governor  took  Jesus  into 
t/ic  common  hall '  (a  circumlocution  for  TrpaiTwpiox). 
In  Mk  15"^  AV  has  '  into  the  hall  called  Prmtorium,' 
as  tr.  of  (<xu  T^s  auX^s  &  ianv  irpaiTuipLOv.  RV  has 
not  entirely  relieved  this  confusion.  The  English 
Revisers  render  xpaiTiipiov  by  '  palace,'  following 
Rhem.;  while  the  American  Revisers,  more  liter- 
ally, give  prwtoriiim,  the  Latin  word  which  was 
carried  over,  transliterated,  into  the  Greek,  and 
which  denoted  originally  tlie  pra?tor's  tent  or 
abode,  or  the  general's  headquarters.  Tindale 
introduced  '  judgement-hall '  for  wptuTiiipi.ov,  and  is 
followed  by  AV  in  Jn  18-^-  ^  19"  etc.  The  AV 
renders  aiXifi  by  '  palace '  in  Mt  26^-  "*•  s",  Mk  U^-'-  ^, 
Lk  11-',  Jn  18'^  when  tlie  reference  is  to  the  place 
where  the  governor  tlisiiensed  justice  ;  by  '  fold '  in 
Jn  10''  ""  of  the  place  where  tlie  sheep  were  kept  at 
night;  and  by  'court'  in  Rev  11-,  as  designating 
the  court  of  the  temple.  RV  more  consistently 
renders  avX-ij  by  'court'  instead  of  'palace,'  every- 
where except  in  Jn  10'  17  avXri  tQv  irpo^aTuiv,  where 
it  has  '  the  fold  of  the  sheep '  (cf.  AV  '  sheepfold '), 
and  in  v.'",  where  it  has  simply  'fold.'  Cf.  Mt 
263.  58.  m^  where  the  inner  court  of  the  hi^h 
priest's  official  residence  seems  to  be  meant ;  in 
v.''*  'Peter  sat  without  in  the  palace'  (AV) ; 
'without'  stands  in  contrast  with  the  audience- 
room  in  which  Jesus  was  appearing  before  the 
authorities,  i.e.  Peter  was  not  in  the  room  of  the 
official  residence  where  the  trial  was  going  on,  but 
out  in  the  open  court,  around  which  the  house  was 
Imilt ;  and  this  was  '  beneath,'  or  on  a  lower  level 
than  the  audience-room.  See  also  Court,  Pr.e- 
TORIUM.  Geo.  B.  Eager. 

HALLELC  praise'). — A  technical  Hebrew  liturgi- 
cal term,  applied  in  Rabbinical  literature  to  certain 
Psalms  and  psalm-pieces  of  praise,  which  character- 
istically have  as  their  keynote  the  expression 
Hallelujah  ('Praise  ye  Jah').  It  is  more  particu- 
larly applied  to  one  group  of  Psalms  (113-118) 
regarded  as  a  liturgical  unit  (so  always  in  the 
Synagogue-liturgy). 

Pss  113-118  form  '  the  Hallel '  xttr  Mtxr.i,  as  distinguished  from 
the  'Hallel  of  Egypt'*  (Pss  113-114)  and  the  'great  Hallel' 
(Snjn  SSn)  which  is  usually  understood  to  mean  Ps  136.  In 
the  Talmud  and  Midrash,  however,  the  Psalms  included  in  the 
'great  Hallel'  are  variously  given,  viz.  :  (1)  Ps  136,  (2)  Pss  ISS^- 
136,  and  (3)  Pss  120-136.  The  question  is  discussed  in  Jerus. 
Pes.  V.  7.  See,  further,  Joel  Muller,  note  to  Sophenm  xviii.  2 
(p.  263).  In  one  passage  of  the  Mishna  (Pes.  x.  6)  the  Hallel 
(Pss  113-118)  is  designated  'Hallelujah.'    For  'half-HaUel'  see 


1.  Origin. — In  its  present  form  the  Psalm-group 
(113-118)  seems  clearly  to  have  been  compiled  for 
liturgical  purposes  at  a  comparatively  late  date. 
The  most  probable  view  is  that  the  collection  was 
formed  in  Maccaba?an  times  for  recitation  on  the 
Feast  of  Hanukka  (Dedication),  on  the  eight  days 
of  which  it  is  still  chanted  in  the  synagogue. 


♦  nsn.l  nhhr^  Bcr.  66a.  See  J.  Miiller,  op.  cit.  p.  288.  In  1 
baraitlin  (Bab.  Shabb.  1186)  Pss  146-148  are  apparently  called  1 
'Hallel,' 


HALTING 


^  suggest  the  Syrian  war,  and  recovery  of 
and  entrance  into  the  Temple.  At  the  same  time,  the  collection 
embodies  other  elements.  Thus  Ps  IIS'-^-"-^  seems  to  be  an  old 
song  of  praise  for  the  Feast  of  Tabernacles.  With  this  agrees 
the  fact  that,  according  to  an  old  tradition  preserved  in  the 
Jerusalem  Talmud  (Sukka  iv.  5),*  the  Hallel  was  recited  on 
'eighteen  days  and  one  niLfht  of  t^he  year— the  eight  days  of 
Tabernacles ;"  the  eight  of  Z/(( /I uMii;  Pentecost  (one  day);  and 
the  first  day  of  Passoier  with  its  (preceding)  night.'  It  is  notice- 
able that  Tabernacles  and  Ildnukkd  are  placed  first  in  this  list ; 
and  it  should  be  remembered  that  the  latter  feast  seems  ori^in- 
allv  to  have  been  regarded  as  a  sort  of  extension  or  reduphca- 
tion  of  the  former  0:f.  i  Mac  V) ;  Cheyne  (OP  p.  33,  note  n) 
remarks ;  '  that  the  recitation  of  the  Hallel  on  these  occasions 
(Dedication  and  Tabernacles]  goes  back  to  Simon  can  hardly  be 
doubted.'  t  A  curious  indication  of  its  liturgical  use  may  perhaps 
be  seen  in  the  fact  that  the  Midrash  on  the  Psalms  counts  onlv 
fwe  psalms  in  the  Hallel,  Ps  113  not  being  regarded.  The  LXX 
and  many  Hebrew  MSS  treat  the  latter  psalm  as  part  of  Ps  114. 
The  reason  assigned  in  one  of  the  smaller  Midrashim  is  as  follows : 
.„:_.-  ..  «...  o.ii...  j^g  Psalter  of  five-fifths;  and 


2.  Jewish  lifiiiyieal  usage. — As  already  stated, 
the  Hallel,  according  to  tradition,  was  regularly 
recited  at  the  Feasts  of  Tabernacles,  Dedication, 
Pentecost,  and  Passover  (first  day  and  preceding 
night),  t 

On  • 
recite  the  Hallel, 
new  moons  other  than  the  new  moon  of  Tishri  (which  introduces 
the  solemn  penitential  period).  But  this  usage  was  apparently 
late  and  unauthorized.  This  is  shown  (a)  by  the  omission  on 
these  days  of  two  sections  of  the  complete  Hallel,  viz. :  Ps 
1151-11  and  1161-11  ;  §  and  (6)  that  both  Rashi  and  Slaunonides 
protested  against  the  use  of  the  regular  benediction  before 
•half  Hallel,'  on  the  ground  that  its  employment  on  these  days 
was  merely  a  pious  custom  without  authority. 

The  recitation  of  the  Hallel  is  preceded  and  fol- 
lowed by  special  blessings.]]  Certain  parts  are  also 
recited  with  a  responsive  refrain  : 

(a)  The  first  four  verses  of  Ps  118  are  said  by  the  Reader,  the 
people  responding  after  each :  '  O  give  thanks  unto  the  Lord ; 
for  He  is  good  ;  for  His  mercy  endureth  for  ever.'  (b)  The  last 
nine  verses  of  the  same  Psalm  are  also  repeated,  in  part  alter- 
nately, in  part  together,  by  Reader  and  congregation. 

According  to  the  Misluia  {Pes.  v.  7),  which  em- 
bodies old  and  (there  is  every  reason  to  believe) 
trustworthy  traditions  as  to  the  Temple-ritual,  the 
complete  Hallel  was  recited  by  the  Levites  during 
the  slaughter  of  the  Paschal  lambs  in  the  Temple- 
courts.  IT  The  use  of  Hallel  in  the  Paschal  meal  at 
home,  when  the  lamb  was  eaten,  must  be  carefully 
distinguished  from  the  above.  Here  the  data  are 
somewhat  conflicting. 

According  to  the  Mishna  (Pes.  x.  6  and  7),  the  Hallel  was 
here  recited  in  two  parts,  and  this  is  still  the  custom  at  the 
Jewish  Paschal  meal.  The  first  part  (Pss  113-114)  immediately 
follows  the  Haggada  proper  (the  narrative  of  redemption)  and 
precedes  the  drinking  of  the  second  cup  of  wine.  It  is  appropri- 
ately closed  by  a  special  benediction  for  redemption.  The 
second  part  (Pss  115-llS,  followed  by  136  and  the  '  Blessing  of 
Song')  follows  after  the  mixing  of  the  fourth  cup,  when  the 
banquet  and  grace  after  meat  have  been  completed.  And  this 
arrangement  is  attested  in  the  Mishna  (ib.).  The  contents  of 
the  first  part  were,  however,  a  subject  in  dispute  between  the 
schools  of  Shammai  and  Hillel,  the  former  concluding  it  at 
Ps  113,  the  latter  at  Ps  114.  1  he  wordin<;  of  the  benediction  for 
redemption  was  also  not  fully  determmed  (ih.).  It  looks  as 
though  the  recitation  of  the  Hallel  in  the  home-service  were  a 
reminiscence  of  the  Temple-ritual,  the  family  meal  being  par- 
taken of  between  the  two  parts  as  a  family  sacrilice,  just  as  the 
Passover  lamb  was  sacrificed  in  tin  r.  i:,|,;.  I  .utiL'  the  singing 
of  the  Hallel.    The  custom,  a^  1 1      ':  i~,  may  quite 

well  have  arisen  before  the  destr:  I  ■         :         ;     i  ilt-. 

3.  Usage  in  the  Gosjk/x.  Ii  i-  n-inillv  .assumed 
that  the  hymn  referred   to  in  Mt  26'"']:  Mk  14* 

*  Cf.  also  Bab.  Arakhin,  Via. 

t  Peritz  (Encyc.  Bibl.  s.v.  'Hallel')  connects  the  liturgical 
I  of  the  Hallel  with  the  Passover-meal  (he  denies  that  it 
I  the  Temple-sen-ice),  and  thinks  that  it  attained  its 


primarily  with  Tabernacles  and  Hanukka. 

5  With  the  doubling  of  the  initial  days  o(  Festivals  that  takes 
place  '  in  exile,'  the  18  days  originally  comprised  in  the  above 
now  amount  to  21,  and  1  night  to  2. 

$  Hence  the  designation  '  half-Hallel '  for  this  form. 

II  For  these  cf.  Singer's  Heh.-Enq.  Prayer-Book,  pp.  219,  224. 

f  For  a  graphic  description  of  this  see  Edersheim,  The  Temple  : 
its  ilhiMrij  and  Servias,  p.  191  f. 


('when  they  had  sung  a  hymn'  [uyuniuai'TEs])  was 
the  second  part  of  the  Hallel  (Pss  115-118)*  sung 
at  the  conclusion  of  the  Paschal  supper  (see  above). 
This  is  quite  possible,  in  view  of  the  probability 
that  the  custom  had  been  established  in  connexion 
with  tlie  Pasolial  meal  in  the  time  of  Christ. 

In  Delitzsch's  Heb.  ST  the  expression  is  well  paraphrased : 
'After  they  had  completed  the  Hallel' (SVn.TriK  IDi).  But 
there  are  some  indications  that  the  usage  was  subject  to  varia- 
tion in  the  earlier  period.  Thus,  according  to  one  authority, 
for  the  'completion'  of  the  Hallel  at  the  Paschal  meal  Ps  25 
might  suflice  (Pes.  118a).  The  expression  iu.io-it.TK  certainly 
suggests  a  Paschal  meal.  It  is  significant,  however,  that  it  is 
absent  from  the  Lukan  account. 

LiTEKATURE.— Besides  the  works  cited  in  the  body  of  the 
article,  the  following  are  important :  art.  '  Hallel '  in  the  Jeloish 
Encyc.,  with  the  authorities  there  enumerated;  Delitzsch  on 
Ps  113 ;  Buchler,  ZATW  xx.  [1900]  114-135 ;  Buxtorf,  Jiabb. 
Lex.  (ed.  Fischer)  s.v.  'j'j.i ;  Hamburger,  BE  ii.  363  ff. 

G.  H.  Box. 

HALLOWED. — Used  of  the  name  of  our  Father 
—first  petition  in  the  Lord's  Prayer  (Mt  e"!!  Lk  11=), 
=  ' revered'  or  'counted  holy.'  It  is,  says  Godet 
{Com.  inloeo),  a  prayer  that  '  unworthy  conceptions 
of  God  and  of  His  character  may  no  longer  prevail 
among  men.  The  child  of  God  beseeches  Him  to 
manifest  with  eflect  His  holj'  character,  in  the 
conscience  of  men,  so  that  all  impure  idolatry, 
gross  or  refined,  as  well  as  all  formal  Pharisaism, 
may  be  completely  removed,  and  that  every  human 
being  may  unite  with  the  seraphim  in  the  anthem 
of  adoration,  "Holy,  Holy,  Holy."' 

The  verb  ayiot^n*  is  in  constant  usage  in  LXX  to  render  the 
different  forms  of  Heb.  lyiij  (see  Concord,  s.  v.).  Isaiah  (8"  2923) 
and  Ezekiel  (passim,  e.g.  20^1  36^3)  employ  the  word  (rendered 
'  sanctify '  AY  and  EV)  of  the  Lord  and  His  name,  in  exactly 
the  same  sense  as  the  Lord's  Prayer,  of  causing  to  be  revered, 
whether  by  judgment  or  by  deliverance.  OT  usage  with  reference 
to  Sabbath,  Jir.'^thom,  etc.,  ought  to  be  compared.  Our  Lord 
uses  i-/.  (1)  of  Himself  (Jn  1036  1719)  in  the  sense  of  consecration 
('sanctifv'  AV  and  RV,  cf.  marg.)  to  the  office  of  Messiah  by 
His  submitting  to  death  ;  and  (2)  of  His  disciples  (Jn  171"- 19)  as 
consecrated  by  the  truth.  The  root  idea  is  setting  apart  for 
holy  purposes,  with  the  consequent  development  of  a  holy 
character.  This  ethical  sense  is  derived  from  Lv  1144  iy^o-^. 
e.i«-!o-Oi  xai  UyM  io-iirlft,  W.  ^yic!  ll/i,  iy li  (see  Lightfoot  On  Ph  11). 

See,  further,  artt.  Consecrate  and  S.ixctify. 

For  usage  of  the  English  word  see  Hastings' 
DB  {S.V.).  R.  MLVCPHERSON. 

HALTING. — A  deficiency  in  gait,  when  one  is 
not  able  to  walk  without  limping.  The  word 
refers  to  the  imperfection  in  the  art  of  walking, 
rather  than  to  the  deficiency,  injury,  or  weakness 
of  the  limb  or  limbs  which  is  the  cause.  This 
differentiation  is  illustrated  by  a  passage  from 
Brand  (1789):  'He  hath  a  halt  in  walking  occa- 
sioned by  a  lameness  in  one  of  his  legs ' ;  also 
Tennyson  {Guinevere) :  '  If  a  man  were  halt  or 
hunch'd ' ;  Bunyan  {Pilg.  Prog.  pt.  ii.) :  '  Mr.  Ready 
to  Halt,'  cf.  Ps  38"  ;  S'haks.,  Timon,  Ac.  IV.  Sc.  i.: 
'Thou  cold  sciatica,  cripple  our  senators,  that 
their  limbes  may  lialt  as  lamely  as  their  manners ' 
(an  illustration  also  of  the  metaphorical  use  of 
the  word  '  halt '  similar  to  that  of  '  lame ') ;  so 
Richard  III.,  Ac.  I.  Sc.  i.— 

'  Sent  before  my  time 
Into  this  breathing  world,  scarce  half  made  up. 
And  that  so  lamely  and  unfashionable 
That  dogs  bark  at  me  as  I  halt  by  them.' 

'  Halt '  is  the  tr.  of  xwXA^  in  Mt  IS',  Mk  9^",  Lk  W\ 
Jn  5* ;  but  the  translators  of  neither  AV  nor  RV 
maintain  a  close  distinction  between  the  lame  and 
tlie  halt.  The  halting  are  included  in  the  general 
healings  wrought  by  Jesus  among  the  multitude, 
and  many  of  them  would  doubtless  be  of  a  char- 
acter to  yield  readily  to  the  method  of  our  Lord, 
acting  as  He  did  on  the  line  of  existing  therapeutic 
forces,  even  while  going  far  beyond  our  present 
knowledge  and  experience  of  these  forces. 

T.  H.  AVricht. 
■  According  to  the  school  of  Shauimai,  Pss  114-llS. 


HANDMAID 


701 


HAND  {T,  1?  '  palm  or  hollow  of  the  hand ' ;  x^V  ; 
Se^M  'right-hand,'  dpurTepi  'left-hand'). — 

OT  tuiagr.— In  the  OT  there  is  a  very  large  variety  of  mean- 
int,'s  attachiiii;  to  the  word  'hand'  and  to  expressions  and 
phrases  in  which  it  occurs ;  a  detailed  consideration  of  these 
is  not  necessarv  here,*  but  a  brief  reference  seems  appropriate 
in  view  of  the  fact  that  NT  usaRe  is  to  some  extent  based, 
through  the  LXX,  on  that  of  the  OT.  In  its  origin  the  Hebrew 
word  probably  meant  'strength'  (cf.  Assyr.  trfu=' strength'),! 
and  it  is  used  in  this  figurative  sense  in  Jos  S">  ('  there  was  not 
in  them  strength  [lit.  hands]  to  Hee'),  Ps  765  ('none  of  the 
mighty  men  have  found  their  hands,'  i.e.  they  are  powerless). 
The  word  is  used  in  a  number  of  other  figurative  senses,  see 
the  Oxford  Heb.  Lexicon  under  T.  Instructive  is  the  passage 
Ex  14»  '  the  children  of  Israel  went  out  with  a  high  hand'  (cf. 
Ex  156- 12,  Nu  ir«  3'6') ;  the  reference  is  to  the  hand  of  Jehovah 
('with  a  high  hand' =  with  the  help  of  the  high  hand,  a  mean- 
ing which  the  preposition  3  frequently  has) ;  the  '  hand,'  strictly 
speaking,  the  '  right  hand  '  (j'p;),  of  God  is  the  planet  Venus  ;  t 
this  antique  conception  is  much  softened  down,  though  a 
literal,  anthropomorphic  sense  is  still  implied  in  the  use  of 
'hand'  in  Ps  10225  'The  heavens  are  the  work  of  thy  hands.' 

In  reference  to  man  the  word  is  used  (just  as  is  the  case  in 
the  NT)  in  a  variety  of  senses,  according  to  the  phrase  in  which 
it  is  found  :  '  to  put  one's  life  into  one's  hand'  (Jg  12^),  means  to 
be  ready  to  jeopardize  one's  life  ;  '  to  clap  the  hands '  is  a  sign 
of  joy  (2  K  1112)  ;  '  to  fill  the  hand '  (RV  '  consecrate ')  is  to  instal 
in  office  (Jg  17512);§  'to  lift  up  the  hand '  (whether  towards 
heaven  or  towards  the  altar  is  not  always  certain,  see  Nowack, 
Heb.  Arch.  ii.  260)  was  a  symbolic  action  which  accompanied 
an  oath,  it  implied  the  calling  of  the  Deity  to  witness  II  (Dt 
32-'»);  the  same  action,  witli  both  hands, 'was  the  attitude 
adopted  when  blessing  (Ps  l:J42) ;  'to  open  the  hand'  is  to 
show  generosity  (Dt  1511);  to  place  the  hands  upon  the  head 
was  a  sign  of  grief  (2  S  1319) ;  to  kiss  the  hand  towards  was 
a  sign  of  homage  (to  a  heathen  deity  in  Job  312?) ;  •  to  lay  the 
hand  upon  the  mouth'  was  done  in  token  of  humility  (Pr  3032, 
cf.  Is  5215) ;  '  to  strike  hands '  meant  to  go  surety  for  some- 
one (Pr  61).  AH  these  symbolic  actions  with  the  hand  were 
common  in  the  time  of  Christ,  as  they  are  at  the  present  day 
also  in  Syria,  Arabia,  etc. 

There  is  one  other  use  of  the  word  in  the  OT  which  demands 
a  passing  notice  ;  it  means  a  sign  or  monument  (1  S  1512,  2  S  I8I8, 
cf.  Gn  351^)  ;  according  to  Schwally,^  it  was  originally  so  called 
because  a  hand  was  depicted  upon  the  monument  or  pillar, 
this  hand  being  a  token  of  that  wherewith  the  vow  had  been 
made  (the  uplifted  hand),  or  perhaps  wherewith  an  offering  had 
been  brought ;  in  view,  however,  of  what  has  been  said  above, 
it  is  more  likely  that  this  handlwas  a  representation  of  the  hand 
of  the  Deity. 

Usage  in  the  Gospels. — In  a  very  large  number 
of  case.s  in  which  '  hand '  occurs,  it  is  used  in  the 
ordinary  literal  sense ;  there  is  no  need  to  give 
references  for  these.  Not  infrequently  there  is  the 
expression  '  at  hand '  in  the  EV  where  in  the 
original  x«''p  does  not  occur  :  e.g.  '  the  kingdom  of 
heaven  is  at  hand  '  {ijyyiKey) ;  such  passages  do  not 
properly  belong  to  this  article,  and  are  not  taken 
into  account. 

1.  All  those  things  which  are  done  by  means  of 
the  hand,  or  in  which  the  visible  part  is  done  by  the 
hand  (such  as  the  working  of  miracles,  or  taking 
hold  of  a  person  or  thing)  are  described  as  being 
performed   5ii  x^'/"^'.  ^'°-  ''"i"  X^'P^"'   ^'^  x"/"^" 
Til-OS,  Mk  6=  etc. ;  iwl  X"?"",  Mt  4^,   Lk  4"  ;  ti's  t 
Xeipa,  Lk    15'-.     'Hand'  is   used   frequently  as 
synonym  for  '  power'  (Mt  17",  Mk  9^',  Lk  1'^  9") ; 
in  the  slightly  ditlerent  sense  of  '  protecting  power ' 
(Lk  23*) ;  still  in  the  sense  of  power  but  coupled 
as  used 
'  further' 

ance ' ;  then,  again,  it  is  used  loosely,**  in  the  sense 
of  'finger,'  in  Lk  15^  ('put  a  ring  on  his  hand'); 
lastly,  it  is  referred  to  (in  a  peculiarly  Oriental 
manner)  as  though  it  had,  metapliorically  speak- 
ing, sense :  '  if  thine  hand  offend  thee '  (ffKavdaUa-ri), 

*  See  art.  '  Hand '  in  Hastings'  DB. 

t  Oxford  Heb.  Lexicon,  s.v. 

;  For  the  proof  of  this  statement  see  Nielsen,  Die  Altarabische 
MondreWjion  vnd  die  Mosaische  Ueherliefcrung  (Strassburg, 
1904),  pp.  Ill,  154  ff.,  where  illustrations  of  S,  Arabian  cylinder 

seals  are  also  given,  showing  '  the  hand  of  God' wi 

Venus  above  it ;  the  Divine  hand  has  seven  fingers, 

§  On  this  idiom  see  Eimjc.  Bibl.  ii.  col.  1051. 

II  A  later  custom  was  to  place  the  left  hand  on  a  tomb  and 

1!  Da.'i  Leben  nach  deui  Tode, 
lOnff. 

■  ■  This  is  ipiite  in  accordance  with  OT  usage,  cf.  e.ij.  Gn  2422 
*  hands '  used  for  '  wrists.' 


and  the  same  idea  is  conveyed  in  Mt  6*  '  let  not  thy 
left  Iiand  know  what  thy  right  hand  doeth.' 

2.  But  the  most  interesting  use  of  '  hand '  in  the 
Gospels,  as  in  the  OT,  is  seen  in  idiomatic  phrases 
in  which  it  occurs ;  these  may  be  briefly  enume- 
rated as  follows  : — 'To  wash  the  hands'  (airovlTrTew 
rds  X- )  «as  a  symbolic  action  denoting  a  repudia- 
tion of  responsibility  or  a  declaration  of  innocence 
(Mt  '27-^  cf.  Ps  '26''  73^^) ;  the  same  phrase,  very 
nearly,  vivreiv  rds  Xv  refers  to  the  washing  before 
meals  in  obedience  to  tradition  *  (Mt  15-).  To  '  lay 
hands  on '  is  used  in  several  senses  ;  iinftaWeiv  ras 
X.  i-rri  Tiva  (or  simply  with  the  dat.)  means  to  take 
hold  of  with  violent  intent  (Mk  14'"') ;  eirmdivai.  rat 
X-  (or  TTif  X.)  eiri  Tira  (or  with  dat.)t  is  synonymous 
with  healing  (Mt  9'»,  Mk  S-^) ;  neha.i  ras  x-  ^t£ 
Tiva  is  used  of  blessing  children  (Mk  10'*) ;  '  to  put 
the  liand  to  the  plough '  (eTri/JdWeic  TTjf  x-  ^i"'  ^po- 
Tpof)  is  a  metaphoric  expression  denoting  the  under- 
taking of  some  duty  (Lk  9*-);  different  meanings 
attach  to  the  phrase  '  to  stretch  forth  the  hands  ' : 
eKTelveiv  rds  x-  f'^'  '■"'"  is  used  of  taking  someone 
prisoner  (Lk  22''^),  or  (with  the  same  construction) 
to  indicate  a  person  (INIt  12'"') ;  ckt.  ttjv  x-  in  Mt 
14^'  means  to  save  from  harm  ;  the  same  expression 
in  Jn  21'*  seems  to  be  used  in  reference  to  the 
stretching  out  of  the  hands  (in  tlie  sense  of  arms)  on 
the  cross.  '  To  lift  up  tiie  hands '  (ivaipuv  rds  %■ )  is 
the  attitude  of  blessing  (Lk  24=")  ;  '  to  take  by  the 
hand'  (Kpare'iv  rrj!  %■)  means  to  take  hold  of  some- 
one with  the  purpose  of  helping  (Mk  1^') ;  '  to 
deliver  up  into  the  hands  of '  (wapadi56vai  ds  x- 
Tims)  is  to  give  into  the  power  of,  with  evil  intent 
(Mt  17°-),  while  5iS6i'ai  n  iv  ry  x-  """o'  means  to 
commit  to  the  care  of  (Jn  3^^) ;  '  to  commend  [the 
spirit]  into  the  hands  of  (xapaTidivai  rd  TTveviia  els 
X-  Tivos)  is  to  place  oneself  under  God's  protection 
(Lk  23'«). 

3.  Lastly,  there  are  many  words  in  connexion 
with  which  '  hand '  is  not  expressed,  but  implied  ; 
all  these  convey  one  or  other,  or  both,  of  the 
root  conceptions  of  this  word,  viz.  strength  and 
activity.  W.  O.  E.  Oesterley. 

HANDMAID.— 'Handmaid'  (Lk  P*;  'hand- 
maiden,' v.*  ;  in  the  American  Standard  RV  '  hand- 
maid '  in  both  passages)  answers  to  the  Gr.  dovXr;, 
which  means  literally,  as  the  RVm  shows,  '  slave.' 
In  the  LXX  rendering  of  Hannah's  vow  (1  S  1"), 
which  is  clearly  echoed,  almost  cited,  in  Lk.,  SoiXrj 
represents  the  Hebrew  'dm/ih,  which,  with  the 
Aramaic  equivalent  'anif"  .iikI  ihf  r.ali.  amtii, 
seems  to  have  been  a  comiDi^n  Scniitic  designation 
of  a  female  slave  in  Canaan  ami  I  lie  iiii;;libouring 
countries.  It  was  sonu'(iiii.>  n-~r.l  in  courteous 
self -depreciation  (1  K  1'',  I  S  ■_'.,-"-"■  ■'•■'i ;  the 
letter  of  an  Assyrian  lady  in  .lolms'  lUihtjloninn 
and  Assyrian  Lairs,  Ciii/nir/^,  ,niil  l,ffhrs,\>.  378), 
and  then  was  naturally  applii'd  to  relation  to  God 
(the  above-mentioned  Vow,  also  I's  86>«  116").  In 
the  Aram,  text,  which  probably  underlay  the  Song 
of  the  Virgin,  '  handmaiden  '  would  be  'amta  with 
suffix  (Pal.  Lett,  of  Gos/nls,  1S99,  p.  234).  The  u.se 
of  the  word  in  the  Gospels  illustrates  the  Oriental 
habit  of  describing  man  as  the  slave  of  God,  of 
which  there  are  so  many  examples  in  the  OT  (Ps 
igu.  i3_  >jgij  16.  u  etc.),  in  the  so-called  Babylonian 
Penitential  Psalms,  in  ancient  Semitic  names — 
Obadiah  found  both  in  the  Bible  and  on  an  ancient 
seal,  Ahdeel  (Jer  36="),  Abdiel  (1  Ch  5>=),  Abedncfjo 
(Dn  1'),  Abd  Ninip  (Tell  el-Amarna  Letters,  No. 
53,^inc\i\eT),'AbdAshtoreth(KAT[ZW]l29);a.nd 
in  names  cuiTent  in  the  Holy  Land  at  the  present 

*  It  is  probable  that  the  origin,  of  which  this  custom  i 
remnant,  is  to  be  sought  in  a  ceremonial  purifying  before 
taking  of  the  sacrificial  meal,  at  which  the  Deity  was  conceived 


ceremonial  purifying  before  par^- 
snig  of  the  sacnncial  meal,  at  which  the  Deit 
as  being  present;  cf.  W.  R.  Smith,  i!&'2 


f  same  construction-' to  ordain' 


702 


HAPPINESS 


HAPPINESS 


time,  such  as  Abdallah  (for  many  examples  from 
southern  and  central  Palestine  cf.   PEFSt,   1904, 

}).  155,  and  .1905,  p.  48  f.).  Tliese  illustrations, 
lowever,  refer  mainly  if  not  entirely  to  men.  In 
connexion  with  a  list  of  personal  names  collected 
from  various  Moslem  villages  in  the  south  of 
Palestine  [PEFSt,  1904,  p.  155),  it  is  remarked  that 
female  names  of  the  type  of  Abdallah  have  not 
been  found.  Still  it  must  always  have  been  easy 
for  an  Oriental  woman  to  call  herself  '  the  hand- 
maid '  of  Deit3'.  The  transition  from  the  courteous 
to  the  religious  use  would  be  readily  eflected. 

W.  Taylor  Smith. 

HAPPINESS. —i.  Pagan  and  Christian 
Ideals  compared.  —  Happiness  was  much  dis- 
cussed among  the  Greeks  under  the  term  'well- 
being  '  ((vSa.Lij.ovla).  Aristotle  said  :  '  For  on  the 
subject  of  happiness  and  what  conduces  to  it,  and 
of  its  opposites,  exhortation  or  discussion  is  always 
conversant,  and  this  because  we  needs  do  tlie 
things  which  procure  it  or  any  of  its  constituents, 
and  refrain  from  doing  the  things  which  destroy  or 
impede  it'  (Rhct.  i.  5).  The  differences  of  the 
philosophic  schools  arose  from  the  question  wherein 
this  well-being  consisted.  Was  it  in  knowledge, 
pleasure,  virtue,  freedom  from  pain,  wealth,  or 
well-doing?  The  record  of  the  answers  to  this 
forms  the  history  of  ancient  Ethics.  Jesus  did  not 
use  the  word  '  happiness '  (d'Saiixovia),  or  propound 
any  tlieory  of  the  relation  between  duty  and 
pleasure  ;  Ijut  absence  of  the  word  is  no  proof  that 
the  subject  was  foreign  to  His  mind.  It  is  incon- 
ceivable that  the  '  Son  of  Man '  .should  neglect  in 
His  system  so  universal  an  instinct  as  the  desire 
after  happiness ;  for  in  the  final  summation  joy 
must  be  a  part  of  the  jierfect  state.  The  com- 
parison between  ancient  and  Christian  Ethics  must 
not  be  made  on  verbal  or  literary  lines,  but  the 
systems  must  be  judged  by  their  actual  contribu- 
tion to  well-being  or  happiness. 

(\)  The  failure  of  Paganvun.  The  systems  of 
Plato  and  Aristotle  did  not  bring  any  large  satis- 
faction with  them,  nor  did  they  discover  any  per- 
manent refuge  for  the  race.  Of  all  the  products 
of  Greek  speculation,  Stoicism  survived  longest,  and 
had  the  largest  influence  upon  the  civilization  of 
the  world ;  but  while,  by  its  stem  grandeur,  it 
shaped  a  few  noble  characters  which  remained  as 
a  protest  against  the  lax  manners  of  the  Empire, 
it  failed  to  open  up  any  fountain  of  joy  for  man. 
The  Stoic  sage  was  powerless  to  convert  his  theories 
into  conduct,  as  he  himself  confessed ;  and  the 
passionlessness  of  soul  which  he  advocated  was  a 
poor  match  for  the  strong  impulses  of  the  human 
heart.  Where  reliance  upon  human  reason  was 
undermined,  it  was  met  witli  an  im])Otent  religious- 
ness ;  and  where  reverence  for  the  natural  order 
was  impaired,  there  was  no  message  of  a  future 
life  in  which  compensations  would  atone  for  present 
inequalities.  Also  the  examples  of  the  earlier 
leaders  created  a  preference  for  suicide,  which  was 
a  confession  of  failure  to  procure  the  well-being  of 
life.       Paganism  withdrew  from  the   struggle  to 

Srovide  happiness.  It  despaired,  and  was  therefore 
efeated. 

(2)  The  succes.t  of  Chrittinniti/.  The  character- 
istic word  of  Christianity  is  Life:  fur  wliili'  the 
moral  code  and  example  of  Christ  an'  ~n|iiii..i  to 
other.s,  it  is  not  on  this  that  His  suiDrmuy  i.--ts. 
Christ's  Person  is  the  vital  force  of  tlic  new  re- 
ligion. '  As  the  Father  hath  life  in  himself,  so 
hath  he  given  to  the  Son  to  have  life  in  himself ' 
(Jn  5**).  This  same  blessing  is  bestowed  ujjon  all 
who  believe  in  Christ ;  and  .so  rich  is  this  gift,  that 
each  believer  becomes  a  constant  source  of  life  (.Jn 
6"  7**).  Life  is  imparted  to  the  believer  in  many 
w.ays,  but  chiefly  through  Christ's  words  (6°'-  ^  15'). 
This  life  is  the  realization  of  all  human  aspiration, 


enabling  the  Christian  to  hold  on  with  courage  ami 
hope  in  the  face  of  temptation  and  doubts ;  and 
the  history  of  our  civilization  is  the  evidence  that 
Jesus  has  succeeded  where  all  others  failed.  'To 
an  age  that  was  exhausted  and  desponding,  that 
had  failed  to  satisfy  the  deep  desires  of  human 
nature,  Christ  came  with  convincing  and  converting 
power.  When  He  spoke,  men  believed  and  lived 
again.     Through  Him  rose 

■  One  common  wave  of  thought  and  jO}-, 
Liftinic  mankind  again.* 

Stoicism  and  Neo-Platonism  produced  thoughts  of 
great  beauty  and  purity.  '  Yet  neither  of  them 
could  enable  artisans  and  old  women  to  lead  a  truly 
philosophic  life.  Christianity  could  and  did ;  the 
apologists  point  triumphantly  to  the  realization  of 
the  moral  ideal  among  Christians  of  every  standing. 
That  was  due  to  the  power  which  issued  from  Jesus 
Christ  and  actually  transformed  man.  The  cer- 
tainty and  confidence  of  faith  based  on  Him,  with 
reliance  on  God's  grace  in  Jesus  Christ,  begat  in 
Christians  a  matchless  delight  in  doing  good ' 
(von  Dobschiitz,  Christian  Life  in  the  Primitive 
Church,  p.  329). 

ii.  The  Teaching  of  Jesus.— The  NT  verbal 
equivalent  f or  ' hapj)iness '  is  'blessedness'  (which 
see),  but  it  is  not  conceived  in  terms  of  pleasure. 
It  is  a  religious  idea,  drawing  its  worth  from  the 
blessing  which  God  imparts.  The  adjective 
'  blessed '  occurs  frequently  in  Mt  S^'^"^.  This 
representative  di.scour.se  may  be  entitled  '  Christ's 
way  to  happiness.'  Here  Jesus  describes  how 
people  become  happy,  but  refrains  from  all  abstract 
definition.  Each  of  these  Beatitudes  falls  into 
two  parts.  In  the  first  half  those  virtues  are 
mentioned  the  possession  of  which  constitutes 
people  happy;  in  the  second  part  the  reward  or 
result  of  each  virtue  is  given.  'The  following  state- 
ments may  be  made  as  to  Christ's  teaching  on  this 
way:  (1)  The  joy  begins  immediately  on  the  com- 
mencement of  the  journey,  and  is  not  reserved  for 
the  future.  Thus,  all  who  are  pure  in  heart  are 
happy.  (2)  More  depends  upon  the  traveller  than 
upon  till'  cmtw.uil  runditions.  Happiness  rests  in 
dispo>iti"n-,  Mi<  li  a-  imrity,  meekness,  righteous- 
ness, ].i-air,  aii'l  iini  in  possessions,  such  as  wealth, 
health,  laTLic.  The  happy  man  makes  his  o\vn 
scenery.  Chiistian  joy,  like  other  Christian  graces, 
is  inward ;  and  the  OT  conception  of  blessedness, 
in  so  far  as  it  consisted  in  prosperity  and  length 
of  days,  yields  to  a  more  spiritual  ideal.  All  who 
go  Christ  s  way  are  like  the  Eappij  Warrior, 
'  Whose  high  endeavours  are  an  inward  light 
Tliat  makes  the  path  liefore  him  ever  bright." 

(Wordsworth). 
(3)  This  happiness  is  not  a  passivity,  but  an 
activity,  coinciding  with  some  function  of  the  will 
or  mind.  It  cannot  rise  of  itself  as  a  mere  state 
of  emotion,  but  accompanies  an  act  of  service 
either  for  God  or  man.  Happiness  is  associated 
with  piety  (Mt S^"")  and  probity  (vv.'"").  Itfollows 
upon  doing  the  will  of  God,  or  upon  seeking  the 
well  -  being  of  others.  Socrates  also  regarded 
happiness  as  ev-n-paila,  well-doing.  (4)  This  way, 
unlike  the  world's  way,  is  endless,  for  the  joy  that 
begins  on  earth  is  an  anticipation  of  the  full  joy  of 
heaven  (vv.'"  w").  (5)  The  pursuit  of  this  way  is 
a  duty.  All  who  walk  with  Christ  not  only  will 
but  ought  to  rejoice.  Happiness  is  an  imperative, 
'  Keioice  and  be  exceeding  glad  '  (v.>-').  The  ethical 
ideal  of  Jesus  dift'ers  from  Ilciloiiisni.  in  which 
morality  .and  happiness  are  svia.ii\ hm.u-  tcriiis. 
Ix^eause  with  Him  bles-sedncss  i,  ili,.  a~-<"iaii'  of 
virtue.  Christ  neither  confuses  nur  separate-  these 
two.  Happiness  and  virtue  are  twin  stars.  The 
further  use  of  the  Ueatitude  in  Christ's  teaching 
continues  to  emphasize  the  spiritual  ingredients  of 
happiness.      In  Lk  11'-^,  Jn  13",   blessedness  and 


HAPPINESS 


HAELOT 


703 


obedience  are  associated ;  in  Mt  16"  blessedness 
and  knowledge  are  united  ;  in  Jn  20="  blessedness 
3,-aA  faith  are  joined.  In  many  places  blessedness 
is  reserved  for  the  future  (Lk  7-'  123'-«  W^).  In 
the  Fourth  Gospel  Jesus  distinctly  offers  fulness  of 
joy  (Jn  16°-^). 

lii.  Happiness  as  revealed  in  Cheist's  Per- 
son.— The  birth  of  Jesus  was  a  proclamation  of  joy 
(Lk  2'").  Though  called  the  '  Man  of  sorrows,'  He 
was  not  unhajjpy.  S()n(i\\s  never  distorted  His 
soul,  nor  left  the  faintest  shadow  of  melancholy 
or  accidie.  He  was  '  still  elieerfnl  and  helpful  and 
firm.'  His  first  miracle  conl  i  ilmted  Ut  the  innocent 
pleasure  of  social  intercourse  (Jn  2'-")-  The  im- 
pression left  by  His  address  was  pleasing  ;  nor  was 
His  voice  the  voice  of  grief  (Lk  4==).  His  gospel 
was  a  joyous  prize  (Mt  13''''-*).  He  delighted  in 
healing  pain  (Lk  4'').  Instead  of  reflecting  the 
sadness  of  households,  Jesus  removed  it  (Jn  IP^, 
Lk  8^-).  He  spoke  of  a  joy  that  was  His  own 
peculiar  and  characteristic  possession  (Jn  15"), 
and  promised  entrance  into  His  own  joy  as  a 
supreme  reward  (Mt  25=')-  This  joy  He  ottered  all 
who  followed  Him  (Jn  16-*),  and  He  was  anxious 
to  complete  the  joy  of  His  disciples  (Jn  15"  17"). 
Christ  shunned  the  moroseness  of  asceticism  (Mt 
11'"),  as  He  turned  from  the  selfish  happiness  of  the 
epicurean  (Mt  20-").  The  joy  of  Clirist  aro.se  from 
several  causes — ( 1 )  He  was  free  from  sin,  that  root 
of  sorrow  and  bitterness :  '  For  by  sinning  we  kept 
neither  piety  nor  felicity '  (Augustine).  (2)  He  had 
the  intense  joys  of  a  Saviour  (Lk  15').  His  was 
the  happiness  that  comes  from  being  the  creator 
of  another's  good  (Lk  19"").  The  keen  pleasure  of 
rescue  work  filled  His  soul  (Lk  \5^-'>--%  The 
thought  of  the  countless  hosts  who  would  obtain 
eternal  rest  through  His  death  was  a  secret  potion 
to  sweeten  His  bitter  cup.  For  the  joy  set  before 
Him  He  endured  tlie  cross.  (.■))  The  self-sacrifice 
of  Jesus  issued  out  of  pure  love  (Jn  15'^).  He  was 
happy  as  a  lover.  (4)  He  rejoiced  in  the  sense  of 
Divine  sonship.  This  was  His  earliest  thought  (Lk 
2-«').  To  do  the  will  of  God  was  better  than  food 
(Jn  4^*).  The  knowledge  of  His  Father  was  life 
(Jn  17').  It  was  an  incomparable  ecstasy  for  Him 
to  dwell  upon  the  love  of  God  (Jn  17).  This  re- 
lieved Him  of  fear  (Lk23*'',  Mt  6^*) ;  also  it  freed 
Him  from  the  distracting  care  of  false  ambition 
(Jn  18™).  Being  thus  free  from  many  of  the  ve.xing 
thoughts  and  struggles  that  disturb  our  peace  of 
mind,  He  was  able  to  find  comfort  in  Himself 
and  His  cause.  He  was  the  first  citizen  in  the 
Kingdom  of  Heaven,  whieli  is  righteousness  and 
peace  and  joy  in  the  Holy  Ghost.  Though  tempted 
in  all  points  like  as  \vc  are,  and  acquainted  with 
grief,  Christ  was  nevevtlieless  a  man  of  joy. 

Christ  gives  liai.i.iin'ss  l,y  -iving  Himself.  'He 
that  hath  tlie  Sun  halh  litV,  and  the  causes  which 
led  to  His  peace  art  in  measure  in  all  those  wlio 
turn  to  Jesus.  The  first  and  last  Beatitude  of  the 
Gospels  is  to  those  who  believe  in  Him  (Lk  l-*',  Jn 
20™).  All  life  culminates  in  God,  and  man's 
summiim  bonum.  is  God  as  He  is  revealed  in  Christ. 
Partnership  with  Him,  even  when  joined  with 
personal  suffering  and  sacrifice,  is  more  valuable 
than  all  worldly  prosperity  (Mt  10=').  Plato  had 
climbed  to  a  lofty  place  when  he  declared  that 
man's  happiness  was  to  be  found  in  a  supernatural 
good,  in  the  knowledge  of  ideas,  especially  the 
idea  of  God.  But  Christianity  rises  higher. 
Jesus  leads  us  up  from  imitation  of  God  and  ac- 
quaintance with  Divine  ideas  to  the  snlilime  fact 
that  we  may  kiidw  C,,,!  |.ersonally.  Not  a  re- 
semblance, but  a  partnership  ;  not  :i  certainty  that 
God  is  good,  true,  ami  wise,  but  a  certainty  that 
He  loves  ns,  and  that  we  may  love  Him  in  return— 
this  is  the  new  faith  (Jn  15").  Jesus  is  the  Chris- 
tian's joy.      Into  our  restlessness  of  soul,  due  in  I 


part  to  imperfect  ideas,  Clirist  conies  with  a  fellow- 
sliiii  and  an  ambition  grand  enough  to  supply  man 
with  the  jieace  after  which  he  is  ever  struggling 
(Mt  11-").  Through  Christ  our  sins  are  forgiven, 
our  anxieties  removed,  our  sorrows  softened,  our 
hopes  revived,  while  He  alone  imparts  that  sup- 
reme gift  of  fellowship  with  God  which  is  our 
highest  good.  Thus  purest  happiness  comes,  which 
some  will  still  prefer  to  call  blessedness,  as  more 
appropriate  to  such  intimate  and  spiritual  relation- 
ships. 

Literature.— Hastings'  DB,  artt.  'Beatitude,'  'Happiness,' 
'Sermon  on  the  Mnimt';  Hort,  Tl,e  Wai/,  The  Truth,  The  Life 
(Macmillan,  ls!)n  ;  Hill  \ ,  rniri  ,-.t.  c  Ilimirlis,  Leipzig)  ;  PRB^, 
art. 'Gliicksflij!  -  '  ■  ^  !yl  i  '  ■/;•',■.■( /mi: 'Prudential 
Aphorisms';   s:,      ,  ,   &re   Homo  15    114, 

195;  Carlyle,  ,V'/  i        ,        ;/   .         ,,i 

■  I  ,\i  1  -  W.  Falconer. 

HARDENING  OF  HEART.  -(,/)  The  relation  in 
Sevi].tuie  l,eiu,.,.ii  tlie  blood  and  the  life  (Lv  17") 
is  sneh  that  tlie  heart  is  naturally  'the  typical 
centre  ni  peisoii;il  life'  (cf.  Westcott  on  He  4'- and 
1  Jii  1'  Add.  Notes) ;  the  seat  of  understanding 
(1  K  3»- 12),  afteetion  (Dt  6=),  will  (Jer  5=^),  character 
(1  K  9S  Ezk  11-') ;  the  fountain  at  which  all  issues 
(Pr  4'-«)  may  receive  a  Divine  direction.  (6)  It  is 
described  as  tender  (2  K  22'8'-),  hard  (Ex  8"),  of 
flesh  or  of  stone  (Ezk  ll'""'-),  not  in  the  popular 
sense  of  merciful  or  cruel,  but  according  to  its 
receptivity  (or  otherwise)  of  Divine  imiiressions. 
Of  the  Greek  words  employed  to  express  such 
hardness  the  two  more  reiiiarkable  (see  below) 
represent  the  heart  as  callous  (i.e.  os.sified)  or  fat. 
(c)  An  important  distinction  is  to  be  made  between 
two  expre.ssions : — (i.)  'Hardness  of  heart.'  "To  a 
certain  extent  this  is  an  unavoidable  infirmity  of 
man's  natural  condition.  As  such,  it  is  the  object 
of  Divine  condescension,  which  (as  Christ  directly 
asserts)  is  the  explanation  of  much  OT  legislation 
(Mt  19S||).  It  is  referred  to  in  the  Gospels  as  (1) 
(TKXripoKapSia,  Mt  19*"  ||  Mk  lO"  [16'''];  as  (2)  Kap5. 
irewbipw/j.ii'ij,  Mk  6'^-  S".  (ii.)  'Hardening  of  heart.' 
This  is  a  \  oluntary  process :  the  object  therefore 
of  Divine  condemnation  (cf.  Mt  U^^-  13'=  23^'*-,  Ro 
2^).  Its  active  nature,  as  distinguished  from  passive 
infirmity,  is  indicated  by  the  form  Tupui<ns,  Mk  3' 
(ef.  Kfl  11-5,  Eph  4"),  in  contrast  to  the  pf.  pt.  pass. 
Mk  6''-  8".  [cl)  Hardening  is  represented,  alterna- 
tively with  conversion,  as  a  direct  consequence  of 
contact  with  giace  and  the  gospel  (Mt  13''*,  Jn  3'"- 
9™ ;  cf.  2  Co  2i«).  The  origin  of  the  process  is 
variously  stated,  according  to  the  side  from  which 
it  is  viewed.  Thus— (1)  The  heart  is  hardened,  as 
though  by  the  action  of  a  mechanical  law  :  Mt  13'° 
=  Is  6'"  LXX  (cf.  Ac  19»,  Ro  11'-=',  2  Co  S'-"). 
(2)  Man  harden.^  his  heart.  This  aspect,  though 
necessarily  involved  in  man's  responsibility  and 
often  stated  in  the  OT  (Ex  9'*,  1  S  6«,  2  Ch  36"),  is 
not  expressly  referred  to  in  the  NT,  except  in  He 
38  =  Ps  958.  (3)  Qg^  hardens  it:  Jn  12*  =  a  para- 
phrase of  Is  6'" ;  see  Westcott,  ad  loc.,  and  cf.  Ro 
9''.  This  is  often  known  as  '  judicial  hardening ' : 
it  is  'the  inexorable  law  of  moral  consequence' 
(Westcott  on  He  3").  It  comes  to  pass  that  'he 
who  ivill  not  turn  at  last  cannot.  And  God,  who 
established  that  law  of  man's  nature,  is  said  in 
Scripture  to  do  that  which  occurs  under  it  or  results 
from  it'  (Vaughan  on  Ro  9'*).  (c)  In  the  OT  the 
typical  case  is  that  of  Pharaoh  ;  in  which  all  three 
statements  are  remarkably  exemplified  (Ex  7'''  8'° 
9'-).  Bunyan's  '  Man  in  the  iron  cage '  is  a  power- 
ful picture  of  hardening  in  its  final  stage  :  at  the 
same  time,  the  man  who  is  past  repentance  is 
usually  past  feeling  (Eph  4'"-). 

F.  S.  Ranken. 

HARLOT. — This  is  the  term  usually  employed  in 
AV  .as  tr.  of  irbpu-q,  the  only  other  tr.  being  '  whore.' 


704 


HATING,  HATRED 


fact  that  prostitu 
cults.  No  sooner 
both  of  tlieir  mora 


,iled  in  connexion  with  Egyptian 
■  settled  in  Canaan  than  the  purity 
leir  religion  was  endangered  by  the 
contaniinatin','  iiiduence  of  Semitic  rites,  in  which  the  conse- 
crated harlot  (hettt'shah)  played  no  small  part.  From  glimpses 
of  social  life  afforded  us  by  the  prophets  (e.g.  Jer  5',  Hos  4"),  we 
can  perceive  the  prevalence  of  ordin.iry  prostitution  in  their 
day.  One  of  the  blessings  of  the  Kxilt-  \\;is  the  extinction 
among  the  Jews  both  of  idolatry  and  of  religious  prostitution. 
The  Apocrypha,  however,  witnesses  to  tlie  continuance  of  the 
common  harlot.  She  haunts  the  streets  (Sir  !)■),  and  employs 
singing  as  one  of  her  seductive  arts  (9-*).  In  the  time  of  the 
Maccaoees  the  Gentiles  in  Palestine  '  dallied  with  harlots,'  and 
had  to  do  '  with  women  within  the  circuit  of  the  holy  places 
(2  Mac  O-").    Cf.  also  Pr  7io. 

The  Gospels  supply  us  with  little  information  as 
to  the  extent  of  prostitution  in  Palestine  during 
the  time  of  Christ.  In  Mt  21^-  our  Lord  refers  to 
harlots  as  a  class.  The  woman  of  Lk  7,  '  who  was 
a  sinner  in  the  city'  (v.^'u./.),  iniilialily  lM'l(iT\j;ed  to 
the  class.  In  the  parable  of  tlie  l'llll^i^al  Sun,  tlie 
far  country  in  which  he  devoured  hi^  li^ill•4  with 
harlots  (Lk  15=°)  might  be  suppdsed  („  lie  pussibly 
within  Palestine.  Again,  our  Lord's  reference  to 
the  sin  of  fornication  (Mt  19')  suggests  the  exist- 
ence of  immoral  women.  The  popular  idea  of 
Mary  Magdalene  as  a  woman  of  evil  life  is  rejected 
by  many  of  the  best  exegetes. 

In  Christ's  day,  Palestine  was  in  many  ways 
demoralized  by  Greek  and  Roman  influences. 
Wherever  the  Greeks  and  Romans  went,  the  iralpa. 
and  the  meretrix  abounded.  Religious  prostitu- 
tion reappeared  in  connexion  with  the  Mysteries 
of  Aphrodite,  which  culminated  in  vicious  orgies, 
and  these  rites  were  not  confined  to  Greece. 
Pagan  gods  and  goddesses  'had  their  due  secret 
solemnities  whithersoever  Greek  (and  partly  Ro- 
man) colonists  took  their  Lares  and  Penates' 
(Baring-Gould  in  Chambers'  Encyc.  vii.  369).  Nor 
would  the  immorality  of  women  employed  in 
shameless  rites  be  confined  to  religious  cere- 
monies, any  more  than  is  the  case  to-day  amongst 
similar  women  attached  to  Indian  temples.  In 
cities  upon  the  coast  of  Asia  Minor  immoral  cults 
prevailed  in  NT  times. 

To  the  Cliristian  mind  the  matter  of  chief 
interest  is  the  attitude  of  Jesus  towards  this  class 
of  sinners,  and  the  significance  of  His  gospel  in 
respect  of  them.  Here  we  cannot  fail  to  contrast 
the  harsh  temper  of  the  Pliarisees  towards  such 
women  with  the  holy  and  redemptive  sympathy  of 
Jesus.  Even  tlie  austere  John  the  Baptist  had  evi- 
dently welcomed  them  as  penitents  and  as  candi- 
dates for  baptism  (Mt  •2V-'-). — a  faet  of  which  Jesus 
reminded  His  Pharisaie  lienei-^  ( )ur  Lord  plainly 
indicated  that  sins  of  WiAAy  i  u  ill  \  .ire  less  heinous 
and  less  likely  to  ime.'  i;ii.il  ilmi  lovelessness, 
spiritual  pride,  and  liypociir..v  ;  iV.r  '  the  publicans 
and  the  harlots  go  into  the  kingdom  of  God  before 
you'  (Mt  21").  His  compassionate  tenderness  in 
this  connexion  appears  very  beautifully  in  St. 
Luke's  story  of  the  sinful  woinmi,  wlid^e  newness 
of  heart  was  intensified  by  the  \:,\r  an.l  jratitude 
consequent  upon  the  pity  and  |i.ii.leii  e\|ierienced 
at  the  Saviour's  hands.  It  may  lie  ,i,l( 
of  guilt  ..I    tins  deseiiptioi,,  tli.-il  the    I 

science  Ik-j..!  i,.,M.f  faith  in  the  Ke.lee IS  atoning 

blooil  is  otleriliiiies  as  ileejias  the  sense  <if  guilt 
was  poi-iiiiTit.  Xiir  should  it  lie  fciigntteii  that  the 
general  eti'ect  of  the  way  in  wliich  the  Master 
admitted  women  to  His  intimate  fellowship  is  to 
raise  the  .status  of  woman  in  such  a  manner  as  to 
render  her  degradation  tlirough  prostitution  un- 
thinkable. Robert  M.  Adamson. 

HARYE8T.— See  Agriculture. 

HATING,  HATRED.— Although  the  noun  does 
not  occur  in  the  Gospels,  yet  the  verb  (/uo-fiv)  is 
often  found.  The  passage's  may  be  grouped  .as 
follows:    (1)   tho.se   wliich    speak   of   the   world's 


spect 


hatred  to  Christ  and  His  people  ;  (2)  those  dealing 
with  the  Old  Law,  and  Christ's  hatred  of  sin  ;  (3) 
those  which  prescribe  hate ;  (4)  some  remaining 
passages. 

1.  The  world  being  opposed,  according  to  St. 
John's  use  of  the  term,  to  '  all  that  is  of  the 
Father'  (1  Jn  2'"),  it  was  inevitable  that  the  holy 
and  sinless  Jesus  should  arouse  its  antipathy  ;  and 
this  is  specially  noted  in  the  Fourth  Gospel.  The 
world  hated  Him  because  He  testified  that  its 
deeds  were  evil  (Jn  7').  Its  instinctive  opposition 
to  tlie  light  as  manifested  in  Him  was  immediately 
aroused  (3=»).  Thus  He  said  '  the  world  hath  hated 
me'  {)j.tixi(TrjK(v,  15"*),  the  perfect  tense  expressing 
'  a  persistent  abiding  feeling,  not  any  isolated 
manifestation  of  feeling '  (Westcott) ;  and  it  was 
'  without  a  cause '  (Suipeav,  15==),  cf.  Ps  SS"*  Q9^ ; 
no  reason  could  he  found  for  sucli  hostility  except 
that  He  condemned  its  wickedness.  This  liatred 
carried  with  it  hatred  of  tlie  Father  also  (Jn  15-=), 
in  which  character  He  had  revealed  God  to  men, 
cf.  15-^  '  they  have  both  seen  and  hated  both  me 
and  my  Father '  ;  therefore  they  had  no  excuse 
for  their  sin,  perhaps  here  the  special  sin  of  hatred 
to  Him  and  His  (Alford).  Cf.  in  the  parable  of 
the  Pounds,  '  his  citizens  hated  him '  (Lk  19"). 

Christ's  disciples  consequently  may  expect  to 
experience  the  same  hatred  in  proportion  as  they 
truly  follow  their  Lord  (Jn  15"*"-").  '  When  they 
came  before  the  world,  it  showed  at  once  and  de- 
cisively its  position  of  antagonism  to  tlie  gospel ' 
(ililariae,  'hated,'  RV  17''')  (Westcott),  the  ultimate 
cause  being  that  men  liad  no  true  knowledge  of 
Him  wlio  sent  Jesus  (15=').  He  foretold  that  they 
should  be  '  hated  of  all  men '  for  His  Name's  sake 
(Mt  10"  11),  more  precisely  'of  all  nations'  (24"); 
cf.  for  its  fulfilment  Ac  12=  28==,  1  Th  2»-  ■',  l  p 
2'= ;  Tacitus,  Ann.  xv.  44,  '  quos  per  flagitia  invisos 
vulgus  Christianos  appellabat';  Suetonius,  Nero, 
xvi.,  '  Christiani,  genus  hominum  superstitionis 
novie  et  raaleticse.'  In  so  far  as  the  world-spirit 
crejit  in  among  the  disciples,  there  would  be  similar 
exliibitions  of  hatred  among  tliemselves  (Mt  24'") ; 
cf.  Gal  5'=,  1  Jn  3'',  the  deadly  hatred  of  the 
.ludaizers  towards  St.  Paul,  and  the  name  6  ^x^P^' 
dce/juTTos  apparently  given  to  him  in  the  Pseudo- 
Clementines.  The  world's  hatred,  however,  should 
be  a  cause  of  rejoicing  (Lk  6='),  and  not  of  wonder 
(1  Jn  3'=,  where  '  if,'  as  in  Jn  15"*,  implies  no  doubt 
of  the  fact).  The  disciples  might  well  suspect 
their  loyalty  if  they  escaped  the  enmity  of  those 
wlio  hated  their  Lord  (Jn  7'),  while  their  experi- 
ence of  it  was  a  proof  that  they  had  been  chosen 
out  and  united  to  Him  (15'"'  ="),  as  also  a  pledge 
of  their  future  glory  (Ro  8",  2  Ti  2'»,  1  P  4'=)  ; 
'  Christianos  quoque  aut  summo  amore  prose- 
quuntur  homines  aut  summo  odio.  Qui  omnibus 
.semiier  placent,  sibi  nierito  suspecti  esse  debent' 
(Bengel). 

Groups  (2)  and  (3)  raise  an  apparent  difficulty : 
tlie  feeling  which  is  forbidden  in  the  one  seems 
commanded  in  the  other.  Westcott  has  a  valuable 
note  on  1  Jn  2°  wliich  suggests  the  solution ;  '  there 
is  a  certain  ambiguity  in  the  word  "  liate,"  for  it 
serves  as  the  opposite  both  to  the  love  of  natural 
att'ection  ((piXelv)  and  to  the  love  of  moral  judg- 
ment (d7ajr^>').  In  the  former  case  hatred,  whicli 
may  become  a  moral  duty,  involves  the  subjection 
of  an  instinct ;  in  the  latter  case  Iiatred  expresses 
a  general  determination  of  diaracter.'  Thus  iiiaelv 
as  opposed  to  cr/airdiv  is  condemned  (Mt5^='-,  Eph 
5-'''  =»»,  1  Jn  2»-  '»  S''''  '5  4->'),  while  as  opposed  to 
<j>i\€lv  it  may  become  a  duty  (Lk  14^,  Mt  10",  Jn 
12=»). 

2.  '  Ye  have  heard  tliat  it  was  said,  Thou  shalt 
love  thy  neighbour  and  hate  thine  enemy :  but  I 
say  unto  you,  Love  your  enemies'  (Mt  .5");  'do 
good  to  them  that  hate  you'  (Lk6-'',  omitted  by 


HATING,  HATRED 


HATING,  HATRED 


705 


best  authorities  in  Mt.).  The  first  part  of  the 
maxim  is  found  in  Lv  19"* ;  but  in  the  latter  clause 
Jesus  '  is  not  quoting  precisely  any  OT  or  extra- 
Biblical  utterance  on  record  (cf.  Sir  18") '  (Hast- 
ings' DB,  Extra  Vol.  p.  30).  The  question  then 
arises — Is  it  a  fair  deduction  from,  and  does  it 
represent  the  spirit  of,  the  OT,  or  is  it  an  unwar- 
ranted extension  and  addition  of  the  scribes  1  In 
favour  of  the  latter  it  is  urged  that  this  hatred  is 
not  conceived  of  as  following  in  Lv  19'*,  and  that 
passages  much  nearer  the  Christian  standard  are 
found.  The  utmost  consideration  was  to  be  shown 
even  to  an  enemy's  beast  (Ex  23^) ;  the  fact  that 
the  owner  cherished  hate  was  no  reason  why  help 
should  be  refused  to  liim  in  his  trouble  (23').  Cf. 
as  to  rejoicing  over  an  enemy  in  calamity,  Job  31°' ; 
as  to  returning  evil  for  evil,  Pr  24'-^ ;  and  as  to  the 
better  spirit  often  shown  in  OT,  Gn  4.j"-,  1  S  24', 
2  K  6==,  Ps  V  35".  Jewish  sages  ordained  that 
'  if  a  man  finds  both  a  friend  and  an  enemy  in  dis- 
tress, he  shall  first  assi.st  his  enemy,'  in  order  to 
subdue  his  evil  inclination  ;  and  held  that  it  is  not 
permitted  to  '  hate  any  one  except  only  sinners 
who,  having  been  duly  warned  and  admonished,  do 
not  repent'  (Kalisch  on  Leviticus,  quoted  in  Alex- 
ander, The  Witness  of  the  Psalms  to  Christ  and 
Christianity,  p.  274).  Pr  24"  25'-' •  -'-  are  sometimes 
quoted  as  approaching  the  Christian  spirit,  but 
the  reason  given  in  each  case  militates  considerably 
against  their  force  ('lest  the  Lord  see  it  and  it 
displease  him,  and  he  turn  away  his  wrath  from 
him,'  'and  the  LORD  shall  reward  thee').  Hence 
some  suppose  that  '  hate  thine  enemy '  was  an 
illegitimate  inference  ('pessima  glossa,'  Bengel) 
drawn  by  Rabbis  from  the  precepts  laid  down 
concerning  the  Amalekites  and  other  nations 
under  the  curse  (Ex  23-3'-,  Dt  7"-  23^  25"'-)  ;  by 
giving  to  '  neighbour '  the  sense  of  '  friend,'  and 
taking  '  enemj; '  as  meaning  a  '  private  enemy,' 
they  were  easily  turned  into  a  justification  of 
private  hatred.  On  the  other  hand,  it  is  held  by 
many  that  this  clause  was  really  implied  in  Lv  19'* 
and  truly  expressed  the  spirit  of  OT.  The  election 
of  Israel,  taken  with  tlie  rules  concerning  the 
above  nations,  would  foster  an  aversion  to  for- 
eigners which  was  ever  increasing  in  intensity ; 
cf.  Ps  83,  Jon  3i»-4",  Est.  In  time  the  Jews  came 
to  have  such  a  profound  contempt  and  disregard 
for  all  others  as  caused  them  to  be  chaiged.  with 
being  enemies  of  the  human  race  ("apud  ijisos 
fides  obstinata,  misericordia  in  proinptu,  sed  ad- 
versus  omnes  alios  hostile  odium,'  Tae.  Hist.  v. 
5.  2  ;  '  non  monstrare  vias  eadem  nisi  sacra 
colenti,'  Juv.  Sat.  xiv.  103).  Therefore  Bp.  Gore 
holds  (Sermon  on  Mount,  p.  97)  that  we  must 
accept  Mozley's  conclusions,  which  are  as  follows, — 
The  whole  precept,  as  it  stands,  undoubtedly  repre- 
sents, and  is  a  summary  of,  the  sense  of  the  Law  ; 
nor  is  there  any  occasion  to  refer  '  it  hath  been 
said  '  to  the  Law  in  the  case  of  '  Love  thy  neigh- 
bour,' and  to  the  tradition  of  the  scribes  in  the 
case  of  '  Hate  thine  enemy '  :  all  the  other  precepts 
which  the  Lord  takes  as  instances  of  an  inferior 
morality  are  precepts  out  of  the  Law,  and  there  is 
no  reason  to  distinguish  this  particular  one  from 
the  rest  with  respect  to  its  source.  In  the  first 
place,  it  applied  to  '  neighbour '  and  '  enemy '  in  a 
national  sense,  and  tended  to  strengthen  the  union 
of  Israelites  ;  it  was  the  inculcation  of  an  esprit  clc 
rorps  which  was  the  vei-y  bond  of,  and  incentive  to, 
union  in  the  early  ages.  But  it  also  referred  to  a 
private  enemy,  and  was  conceived  in  the  general 
spirit  of  retaliation  (cf.  Mt  5'*  and  such  Psalms  as 
109). 

It  is  evident  from  Mt  5**  that  Jesus  took  '  enemy ' 
as  meaning  a  '  private  enemy,'  who  in  the  new 
Kingdom  is  to  be  loved,  and  to  whom  good  is  to 
be  done.     He  used  ayair^v,  not  <l>i\(lv,  on  which 

VOL.  1.-45 


Tittmann  (see  Alford)  says,  '  (piKth,  aniare,  pessi- 
mum  quemque  vir  honestus  non  potest ;  sed  poterit 
eum  tamen  aya.irq.i/,  i.e.  bene  ei  cupere  et  facere 
quippe  homo  homini,  cui  etiam  Deus  benefaciat. 
Amor  imperari  non  potest,  sed  dilectio.'  Cf.  Clem. 
Alex.  t6  a.ya.Trq.11  roiis  4x0pois  ovk  d7a7r9i'  t6  KUKb:/ 
Xiyei,  and  Aug.  '  sic  dilige  inimicos  ut  fratres  optes, 
sic  dilige  inimicos  ut  in  societatem  tuam  vocentur, 
sic  enim  dilexit  ills  qui  in  cruce  pendens  ait.  Pater 
ignosce  illis,  quia  nesciunt  quid  faciunt.'  Accord- 
ing to  the  teaching  of  Christ,  therefore,  the  hatred 
of  sin  only  is  permissible,  which  is  the  necessary 
corollary  of  the  Gospel  of  Love,  and  is  according 
to  His  own  example ;  cf.  He  1',  Rev  2",  where 
Lyra  remarks  (see  Alford),  '  non  dixit  Nicolaitas, 
sed  facta  :  quia  persona?  simt  ex  charitate  dili- 
•gendne,  sed  eorum  vitia  odio  sunt  habenda.' 

3.  Lk  14-'-  -'',  Jesus  turned  and  said  unto  the 
multitude,  '  If  any  man  cometh  unto  me,  and 
liateth  not  his  own  father,  and  mother,  and  wife 
(peculiar  to  Luke),  and  children,  and  brethren,  and 
sisters,  yea,  and  his  own  life  also,  he  cannot  be  my 
disciple ' ;  cf.  Mt  10^'  '  He  that  loveth  father  or 
mother  more  than  me  is  not  worthjf  of  me ' ;  and 
Jn  12-°  '  He  that  loveth  his  life  loseth  it,  and  he  that 
hateth  his  life  in  this  world  shall  keep  it  unto  life 
eternal.'  We  may  at  once  dismiss  such  an  inter- 
pretation as  Renan  put  forward,  viz.  that  Christ 
was  here  '  despising  the  healthy  limits  of  man's 
nature,'  '  warring  against  the  most  legitimate 
cravings  of  the  heart,'  and  '  preaching  a  total 
rupture  with  the  ties  of  blood.'  The  whole  tenor 
of  His  life  and  teaching  is  against  such  an  idea. 
He  forbade  hatred  even  of  an  enemy  (Lk  6'-') ;  He 
condemned  evasion  of  the  Fifth  Commandment 
(Mk  7"''"),  and  taught  the  sanctity  of  the  marriage 
bond  (Mk  10^"") ;  He  showed  tender  thought  for 
His  mother  (Jn  19-^'-),  and  loved  children  (Mk 
10'*');  His  new  commandment  was  'that  ye  love 
one  another,  as  I  have  loved  you '  (Jn  13^*).  St. 
John  certainly  did  not  understand  Lk  14-"  in 
Kenan's  sense  (1  Jn  2»-  "  3"^-  "  4«-'-") ;  nor  St.  Paul 
(Eph  5=8,  ITi  58,  Tit  2\  Ro  13"),  who  would  re- 
gard those  acting  in  such  a  way  as  d<TTopyot  '  with- 
out natural  affection,'  a  vice  of  the  heathen  (Ro 

Some  have  given  to  '  hate '  in  these  passages  the 
meaning  of  'love  less,'  comparing  Gn  29^"-^',  Dt 
21''' ;  but  it  follows  from  the  above  that  Jesus  can- 
not have  intended  to  condemn  any  degree  of  right 
atl'ection  as  if  it  amounted  to  loving  others  more 
than  Him.  '  The  love  which  Christ  condemneth 
ditt'ers  not  in  degi'ee,  but  in  kind,  from  rightful 
affection.  It  is  one  which  takes  the  place  of  love 
to  Christ,  not  which  is  placed  by  the  side  of  that 
of  Christ.  For,  rightly  viewed,  the  two  occupy 
ditterent  ])rovinces.  Wherever  and  whenever  the 
two  affections  come  into  comparison,  they  also  come 
into  collision  '  (Edersheim,  Life  and  Times,  i.  650). 
There  is  a  foolish  affection  which  would  do  injurj' 
both  to  the  giver  and  the  receiver  (cf.  Pr  13=''),  and 
then  hate  is  not  only  consistent  with,  but  absolutely 
necessary  for,  the  liisiliest  kind  of  love.  It  is  'that 
element  in  love  wliirh  iniikc^  :\.  wise  and  Christian 
friend  not  for  tiinr  only,  Iml   h.r  eternity.' 

The  words  liail  .^1.,  ('i.al  a|i|ilication  to  the  time 
when  they  %\cre  spoken,  and  must  have  sounded 
strange  to  the  multitude,  which,  for  the  most  part, 
was  following  because  of  that  very  love  of  life 
which  is  condemned,  desiring  to  get  material 
benefits  (cf .  Jn  &-").  Jesus'  enemies  were  becoming 
more  violent,  divisions  in  families  would  take 
place  (Mt  lO^^--" ;  cf.  Ex  322«'-,  Dt  33"),  and  dis- 
cipleship  would  in  many  cases  be  impossible  with- 
out the  reniinciation  of  the  dearest  ties.  The 
mission  field  affords  a  parallel  nowadays,  where  the 
hostility  of  relatives  is  often  the  greatest  hindrance 
to  the  confession  of   Christ.      The  statement  is 


706 


HEAD 


HEADSHIP 


iing  passajje  from  Philo  whic 
the  Levites  as  beint?  i 
exiles  who  to  do  God's  pleasure  had  left  paren 


made  in  the  most  startliiiK  form  to  arrest  attention  ; 
conditions  must  be  supplied  as  in  Mt  5^'-.  Even 
where  renunciation  is  not  outwardly  necessary, 
there  isust  be  potential  alienation  and  the  acknow- 
ledgment of  Christ's  claims  as  paramount.  The 
key  to  the  true  explanation  lies  in  'yea  and  his 
own  life  also'  (cf.  Jn  12^),  it  is  presupposed  that 
friendship  is  a  source  of  enjoyment  for  ourselves ; 
'Jesus  does  not  indicate  a  course  of  action  whereby 
we  do  evil  to  others,  but  such  as  constitutes  a  pain- 
ful sacrifice  for  ourselves'  (Wendt).  At  bottom 
our  own  life  only,  the  last  citadel  (Job  2^),  is  to  be 
hated,  and  everything  else  only  in  so  far  as  it 
partakes  of  this  principle  of  sin  and  death  (Godet)  ; 
'  secundum  earn  partem,  secundum  quam  se  ipsiim 
odisse  debet,  a  Christo  aversam '  (Bengel).  '  He 
that  so  prizes  his  life  that  he  cannot  let  it  out  of 
his  own  hand  or  give  it  up  to  good  ends,  checks  its 
growth,  and  it  withers  and  dies  ;  whereas  he  who 
treats  it  as  if  he  hated  it,  giving  it  up  freely  to 
the  needs  of  others,  shall  keep  it  to  life  eternal' 
(Dods,  Expositor's  Greek  Test.).  'Sec  tamen 
sufticit  nostra  relinquere,  nisi  relinquamus  et  nos ' 
(Gregory,  Horn,  xxxii.). 

Westcott  on  He  73  quotes 
throws  light  on  Lk  U^;h 
some  sense  'exiles  who  to  do  God's  p 
and  children  and  brethren  and  all  tlv 

For  the  abstraction  of  the  sinful 
'  hate,'  leaving  in  it  nothing  but 
kind,  Wendt  compares  the  use  < 
1V-,  where  *  they  are  used  only  i 
seizure  and  appropriation,  but 
seizure.' 

4.  other  passages — Mt  6-^  =  Lk  16'^ '  No  man  can 
serve  two  masters  :  for  either  he  will  h^te  the  one 
and  love  (ayairri(ret)  the  otlier  ;  or  else  he  will  hold 
to  the  one  and  despise  the  other.'  Here  also  '  hate ' 
must  get  its  full  meaning  in  order  to  bring  out  the 
opposition  and  the  division  of  the  man's  nature 
who  attempts  to  serve  both  God  and  mammon. 
The  change  of  words  in  the  second  jiart  is  remark- 
able {KaTCtppovqaei  for  fuaqan,  ami  ai'iliiuai  fur 
ayaT-qffei),  '  non  dixit  ocli't  ~.il  ■  mif.  „i,/'  f  :  -iciu 
Solent  minas  ejus  postpunciv  i  u|iiiliial  il.ns  Mii-. 
qui  de  bonitate  ejus  ad  inipunitatem  ^il■i  lilamli- 
untur'  (Aug.);  to  which  Trench  adds — 'No  man 
actually  and  openly  professes  to  hate  God  and  love 
the  devil ;  and  tlierefore  in  the  second  clause,  when 
the  Lord  is  putting  the  converse  case,  He  changes 
both  words,  which  would  be  no  longer  the  most 
appropriate  ;  the  sinner  '  holds  to '  Satan  when  he 
follows  his  rewards  ;  he  practically  '  despises  '  God 
when  he  heeds  not  His  promises  and  His  tlireaten- 
ings ;  however  little  he  may  acknowledge  to  himself 
or  to  others  that  he  is  doing  either  this  or  the  other.' 

Lk  V^,  '  salvation  from  our  enemies  and  from 
the  hand  of  all  that  hate  us,'  exhibits  a  parallelism 
with  no  particular  distinction  between  the  clauses, 
cf.  Ps  18"  106'". 

Literature.— Bethune-Baker'sart.  'Hatred'in  Ifastinffs*  Z)B ; 
Votaw's  art.  'Sermon  ..n  th.    .M  .unt,     '     I      ,  ,   '.1.;  Trench, 

ExpositioH  of  the  .s',/-„.. '      u  -.(„.»■  in  the 

Gospels  (No.  12);  Wea.ll,  /    .  ;.i;  Mozlev, 

LecturrsontheOldTtst.t,,,'  ni  ^\.'  ■  \    K:i,.i .  l  ■   uj'.xpositor, 

l.ix.IlS-91420f.;  Dykos.  .Un.,./.  •'■,'"'  A  -.;.  Ull.;  Butler, 
Serm.  viii.  ix.  ;  Seelev,  Ecce  Homo,  rh.  xxi.  ;  .M.inensen,  Chr. 
Eth.  il.  118  ff. ;  Gardner,  Conflict  of  Duties,  l.'!3-148. 

W.  H.  DUNDAS. 

HEAD  (K£0a\^).— 1.  Natural  importance.— The 
relationship  of  the  head  to  the  body  is  that  of 
master  to  servant.  In  this  service  tlie  body  is  e.x- 
pected  to  ignore  its  o\^'n  wants,  and  liomelessness 
is  to  be  without  a  resting-place  for  the  head  (Mt 
8").  The  anointing  of  the  head  was  an  accompani- 
ment of  festive  liappiness  (Mt  26',  Mk  14^  Lk  7'^), 
and  this  mark  of  joy  was  to  be  borrowed  by  Chris- 
tian self-denial  (Mt"6").     A  crown  of  thorns  on  tlie 


head  was  part  of  the  mock  dignity  thrust  upon 
Christ  as  King  of  the  Jews  (Jn  19=). 

The  importance  thus  attached  to  the  head  gave 
a  higlier  significance  to  tlie  gestures  which,  among 
an  emotional  people,  often  emphasized  or  took  the 
place  of  words.  Such  movements  of  the  head  are 
practised  to-day  in  Palestine  alike  by  young  and 
old,  and  are  resorted  to  on  occasions  similar  to 
those  described  in  tlie  OT  and  NT.  Thus  a  rapid 
shaking  of  the  head  from  side  to  side,  with  a 
similar  twirling  of  the  open  hand  on  the  wrist, 
indicates  tliat  one  is  perplexed  by  some  mystery, 
as  when  the  owner  of  the  garden  asked  why  that 
useless  fig-tree  was  still  there  (Lk  13').  It  also  indi- 
cates that  the  hearer  has  not  heard  distinctly,  or 
grasped  the  meaning  of  what  has  been  said.  An 
abrupt  jerk  of  the  head  backward  does  duty,  especi- 
ally wlien  at  some  distance  away,  for  an  emphatic 
'No.'  Tlie  bending  of  the  head  dowmvard  is  the 
attitude  of  the  inferior  in  the  presence  of  his 
superior  (Is  58°,  Lk  18'^).  The  slow  turning  of  the 
head  once  in  one  direction  means  that  the  words 
just  heard  or  the  scene  witnessed  pass  all  descrip- 
tion. Such  a  gesture  would  be  common  among 
those  who  looked  upon  Christ's  miracles  of  healing 
power.  This  motion,  repeated  several  times,  along 
with  a  dissociating  wave  of  the  hand,  means  con- 
tempt or  disgust  towards  some  action,  or  the 
abandonment  of  hope  in  the  case  of  some  party 
referred  to  (Jer  18'^  Zeph  21^).  The  movement  of 
the  head  up  and  down  is  the  soliloquy  of  one  speak- 
ing to  himself  and  saying,  '  It  is  as  I  expected ; 
I  knew  it  must  come  to  this'  (La  2^\  Mt  27f). 
The  head  laid  to  one  side,  with  a  slight  protrusion 
of  the  underlip,  means,  '  Causes  must  have  con- 
sequences, you  may  do  as  you  please'  (Ps  22'). 
Such  a  gesture  seems  to  fill  the  gap  in  the  debate 
over  the  fig-tree  in  the  garden  (Lk  13'). 

2.  Figurative  authority.  —  The  connexion  thus 
recognized  between  headf  and  body  was  used  to 
express  all  situations  involving  a  relationship  of 
authority  and  submission.  The  patriarchal  East, 
with  regard  to  both  secular  and  sacred  matters, 
lias  a1  way-  attached  more  importance  to  the  sceptre 
til  in  to  th''  -t.itute.  It  does  not  understand  imper- 
-niial  iilii  (s,  ami  gives  its  homage  to  the  official  who 
I  an  cnlorre  liis  decrees.  Its  conception  of  life  is  of 
graded  authority  rather  than  of  democratic  equality. 
It  was  not  so  much  in  disapproval  of  this  as  liy  way 
of  supplying  a  new  line  of  action  to  the  familiar 
instinct,  that  Christ  said  that  in  the  coming  King- 
dom of  God  the  way  to  honour  would  have  to  be 
sought  through  abundant  and  self-liumbling  service 
(Mt  202«'-  23").  Tlie  customs  of  swearing  by  the  head 
and  of  appealing  to  heaven  and  eartli  and  Jerusa- 
lem, are  condemned,  because,  while  such  a  habit  of 
appealing  under  distress  to  the  name  of  some  one 
who  could  and  must  corae  to  deliver  and  punish 
was  a  protection  to  the  oppressed  under  primitive 
conditions  of  life,  it  was  here  diverted  from  its 
original  meaning  when  the  appeal  wa-s  made  to 
that  which  was  not  fi'ee,  but  already  belonged  to 
another.  The  practice  was  at  once  foolish  and 
idolatrous.  The  true  help  is  from  the  Lord  which 
made  heaven  and  earth  ;  and  this  help  is  for  those 
whose  speech  is  '  Yea,  yea  ;  nay,  nay '  (Mt  5"'"). 

For  the  headship  of  t'hrist  see  following  article. 
G.  M.  Mackie. 

HEADSHIP.— i.  In  the  Go.spels.— 1.  The  word 
'head'  («0aXi}),  as  applied  to  the  relation  of 
Christ  to  His  Church,  occurs  only  three  times 
in  the  Gospels,  and  there  in  the  passages  in 
the  Synoptics  (Mt  21«  It  Mk  12^"  ||  Lk  20")  in 
which,  applying  the  lesson  of  the  parable  of  the 
Wicked  Husbandmen,  Jesus  quotes  Ps  118--  in  the 
Septuagint  version,  '  'The  stone  which  the  builders 
rejected,  the  same  is  become  the  head  of  the  corner ' 
(ouTot  lyevTiSTi  ci't  Kfipa\T\v  yuivlat),  where  the  expres- 


HEADSHIP 


HEADSHIP 


sion  Ke4)a\T]v  yuvlas  is  an  exact  rendering  of  the 
Hebrew  nj?  aA\  The  meaning  of  the  passage  is 
clear.  The  building  of  which  the  Psalmist  speaks 
is  the  theocracy,  Israel  as  the  people  of  God.  The 
corner-stone,  a  stone  fitted  into  an  angle  of  the 
building  and  binding  together  the  walls  which 
meet  at  that  point,  and  without  which  the  struc- 
ture must  collapse,  represents  the  Messiah,  through 
whom  the  theocracy  finds  its  realization. 

What  the  Psalmist  says  about  the  rejection  of 
the  stone  on  the  part  of  the  builders  has  been 
explained  by  some  as  an  allusion  to  an  alleged 
incident  in  the  building  of  the  Second  Temple. 


that  was  the  right  place  for  it,  and  that  no  other  stone  would 
answer  half  as  well.  The  trial  was  made,  and  the  issue  answered 
their  expectations '  (Plumptre,  Biblical  Sittdits,  quoted  by  Per- 
owne,  Psalms,  in  loc). 

It  is  more  likely,  however,  that  this  story  was 
suggested  by  Ps  118  than  vice  versa.  Probably  what 
was  in  the  Psalmist's  mind  was  Is  28'^  '  Behold  I 
lay  in  Zion  for  a  foundation  a  stone,  a  tried  stone, 
a  precious  comer-stone.'  Ps  118^-  was  applied  by 
Christ  to  His  relation  to  the  Church  as  uniting 
Jew  and  Gentile,  and  to  His  approaching  rejection 
by  Israel.  Thus  quoted  and  applied,  the  words  of 
the  Psalm  speak  of  the  Messiali  as  of  Him  '  upon 
whom  depend  the  maintenance  and  development 
of  the  theocracy,  without  whom  it  would  fall  to 
pieces,  as  the  corner-stone  is  the  upholder  and  stay 
of  a  building'  (Meyer).  They  speak  of  Christ  as 
representing  the  principle  of  unity,  that  which 
constitutes  the  Church  a  grand  whole.  If  we 
compare  with  this  application  by  our  Lord  of  Ps 
1 18"  the  use  made  of  tlie  same  figure  by  St.  Peter 
in  the  Acts  of  the  Apostles  (4")  and  in  his  First 
Epistle  (2*-*),  where  he  speaks  of  the  Church  as  a 
temple  built  of  living  stones,  and  by  St.  Paul  when 
he  describes  Jesus  Christ  Himself  as  the  chief 
corner-stone  of  a  holy  temple  (Eph  2-°),  we  find  the 
connecting  link  between  the  idea  of  the  Headship 
of  Christ  as  it  is  expressed  in  the  Gospels  and  the 
similar  conception  of  St.  Paul  in  his  Epistles  to  the 
Ephesians  and  Colossians  (compare  also  1  Co  IP). 

St.  Peter,  while  keeping  to  the  architectural  figure 
suggested  by  the  passages  quoted  from  the  Psalms 
and  Isaiah,  and  speaking  of  Christ  as '  head  stone  of 
the  corner '  (kc^oXi)  yavla^),  adds  the  thought  of  life 
to  that  of  unity.  St.  Paul,  still  further  working  out 
the  same  idea,  adopts  a  diflerent  figure,  that  of  the 
head  as  the  seat  of  life  in  the  body,  that  which  con- 
trols and  regulates  the  action  of  each  individual  mem- 
ber (Eph  P2-  =3  415.  IS  523. 2a-3o_  Col  1'8  2").     See  §  ii. 

2.  The  idea  of  Headship  is  suggested  in  the 
Gospels  in  connexion  with  another  figure,  in  our 
Lord's  similitude  of  tlie  Vine  (Jn  IS'*-),  in  which 
He  illustrates  and  works  out  in  detail  the  thought 
that  He  is  the  source  of  life  and  fruitfulness 
for  the  whole  Church  and  for  each  individual 
member  of  the  Church,  tlie  vital  principle  which 
unites  all  in  one.  As  the  head  no  less  than  the 
heart  is  the  seat  of  life  in  the  human  body,  inas- 
much as  the  brain  is  the  centre  of  the  nervous 
system,  and  the  nerves  radiating  from  the  brain 
and  spinal  cord  are  the  source  of  the  healthy 
activity  of  every  part,  the  beautiful  description 
which  St.  Paul  gives  (Col  2'")—'  the  head,  from 
which  all  the  body  by  joints  and  bands  having 
nourishment  ministered  and  knit  together,  in- 
creaseth  with  the  increase  of  God ' — corresponds 
to  what  Christ  says  in  His  jiarable  of  tlie  Vine 
of  the  source  of  life  and  fruitfulness,  with  the 
thought  of  the  healthy  flow  of  life-giving  sap 
which  His  words  suggest :  '  As  the  branch  cannot 


bear  fruit  of  itself  except  it  abide  in  the  vine,  no 
more  can  ye  except  ye  abide  in  me.  I  am  the 
vine,  ye  are  tlie  branches  :  he  that  abideth  in  me 
and  I  in  him,  the  same  bringeth  forth  much  fruit ; 
for  without  me  (x^pis  ifiod—maxg.  'severed  from 
me  ')  ye  can  do  nothing'  (Jn  15^-  ^). 

3.  Again,  the  thought  of  Headship  is  involved  in 
that  view  of  the  Church's  relation  to  Christ  which 
our  Lord  presents  in  the  blessing  pronounced  on 
St.  Peter  at  Csesarea  Philippi  (Mt  W^- '»),  and  in  a 
passage  from  the  same  Gospel,  in  many  respects 
similar,  in  which  He  repeats  His  promise  of 
power  to  bind  and  to  loose  (Mt  IS'*"^").  These 
passages  are  the  more  worthy  of  note  in  this  con- 
nexion, that  they  are  the  only  instances  in  which 
the  Gospels  represent  Jesus  as  using  the  expression 
'  Church '  (eKK\ri(ria).  According  to  the  first,  that 
which  constitutes  the  being  and  the  strength  of 
the  Church  is  her  faith  in  Jesus  as  the  Christ,  the 
Son  of  the  living  God.  Jesus  speaks  of  the  com- 
munity which  is  founded  upon  faith  in  the  Christ 
as  'My  church'  {/mov  ttiv  eKK\i]alap),  and  then  pro- 
mises to  invest  this  Church  in  the  person  of  her 
representatives  (in  this  case  St.  Peter  as  spokesman 
of  the  Twelve)  with  the  power  to  bind  and  to  loose. 
The  other  passage  occurs  in  connexion  with  our 
Lord's  injunction  to  make  '  the  church  '  the  final 
court  of  appeal  in  cases  of  disputes  among  brethren. 
In  it  Jesus  repeats  the  promise  of  power  to  bind  and 
to  loose,  and  states,  in  more  universal  terms  than 
He  employs  in  His  promise  to  St.  Peter,  what  con- 
stitutes the  Churcli,  or  what  entitles  any  body  of 
believers  to  the  name  of  '  Church.'  That  is  the 
presence  of  ChrLst  Himself  in  the  midst  of  them. 
'  Where  two  or  three  are  gathered  together  in  my 
name,  there  am  I  in  the  midst  of  them.'  That 
which  constitutes  the  Church  and  invests  her  with 
authority  and  power,  that  which  is  the  source  of 
lier  life  and  energy,  is  the  presence  with  her  of 
Christ  as  her  living  Head,  in  whose  name  and 
guided  by  whose  Spirit  she  discharges  her  spiritual 
functions. 

Literature  :—Cremer,  Bib.-Theol.  Lex.  s.v.  jcs^atiii ;  Grimm- 
Thayer,  Lex.  Novi  Testamenti,  s.m.  mtuKi,  a><txtfx>.x,i^ ;  Comm. 
of  Meyer  and  Altord  ;  Baethgen,  Psalmen,  ad  loc. ;  Perowne,  The 
Psalms,  ii.  p.  338  ;  Beyschlag,  NT  Theol.  i.  166  fl. 

Hugh  H.  Cuerie. 

ii.  In  the  Pauline  Epistles.— The  Headship 
of  Christ,  suggested  in  the  teaching  of  our  Lord 
Himself,  is  expressly  taught  in  the  Pauline  Epp., 
and  is  applied,  moreover,  to  a  much  wider  sphere 
tlian  that  of  Christian  discipleship.  For  while  em- 
phasis is  especially  laid  on  Christ's  Headship  over 
the  Church,  suggestions  are  given  for  a  doctrine 
of  His  Headship  over  the  human  race  and  even 
over  the  whole  created  universe. 

1.  Christ's  Headship  over  the  Church. — In  1  Co 
12"  (cf.  Ro  12«)  we  find  St.  Paul,  in  his  desire  to 
impress  his  readers  with  a  sense  of  their  unity  and 
mutual  dependence,  describing  the  local  church  as 
'  a  body  of  Christ '  (o-u/ta  XpnrToC)— conceiving  of  it 
i.e.  under  the  figure  of  a  body  whose  several  mem- 
bers (eye,  hand,  head,  feet,  v.=')  are  individual 
Christians.  In  Eph.  and  (\,\.  this  lluurc  is  elabor- 
ated at  more  poiiils  tliaii  one.  In  I  he  liist  j.lace, 
Christ  is  no  Icmuw  tliuimlit  .if  as  I  limsrlf  1  h.' whole 

body,  of  whicli   indivi.lnals  air  II icmbers— the 

head  being  a  particular  member  like  the  rest.  The 
Cliurch  is  now  the  body,  from  whicli  He  is  dis- 
tinguished as  the  Head  (Eph  P='-  4i«-  5=^,  Col  l'" 
2'").  He  is  the  vital  centre,  the  ruling  and  direct- 
ing power  of  the  whole  organism.  Moreover,  as 
the  use  of  the  art.  liefore  tru/jLa  (absent  in  1  Co  12") 
now  shows,  it  is  the  writer's  intention  that  the 
figure  should  be  applied  not  to  any  local  church 
merely,  but  to  the  Church  universal,  and  to  this 
Church  ideally  conceived — the  actual  Church,  no 
doubt,  but  regarded  sub  specie  ceternitatis,  so  that 


708 


HEALING 


HEARING 


the  radiance  of  the  heavenly  antitype  shines 
through  the  earthly  form.  To  this  Church,  Christ 
is  '  head  over  all  things ' ;  while  it  is  '  his  body, 
the  fulness  of  him  that  hlleth  all  in  all '  (Eph  1--'). 
See,  further,  art.  Body,  ii.  (3). 

2.  Christ's  HeaclMp  over  the  hiiiiurn  rave. — In 
1  Co  11'  the  Apostle  -ivrites,  '  Tlie  head  of  every 
man  is  Christ.'  Here  we  have  a  doctrine  of  Head- 
ship stretching  out  beyond  the  limits  even  of  the 
universal  Chui'ch.  The  statement,  as  Hort  points 
out  (Chr.  Ecclesia,  p.  151),  is  a  natural  application 
of  St.  Paul's  view  of  Christ  as  the  Second  Adam 
(1  Co  15^  ■""■•,  cf.  Ro  S'-"').  The  Incarnation  not 
only  reveals  the  kinship  of  the  '  man  from  heaven ' 
with  all  the  sons  of  men  ;  it  sets  Him  before  them 
as  the  true  spiritual  Head  of  humanity,  in  whom 
the  race  is  ideally  summed  up. 

3.  Christ's  Headship  over  the  universe. —In'E^h  1" 
we  read  that  it  is  God's  purpose  '  to  gather  together 
all  things  under  a  head  (dKa/ce^aXatiiaao-flai  to.  Trivra) 
in  Christ,  the  things  in  the  heavens  and  the  things 
upon  the  earth.'  And  in  Col  2'"  Christ  is  expressly 
called  '  the  head  of  all  principality  and  power  '— 
words  which  are  explained  in  1'^-  '^,  where  He  is 
declared  to  be  'the  firstborn  of  all  creation,'  in 
whom  '  were  all  things  created,  in  the  heavens  and 
upon  the  earth,  things  visible  and  things  invisible, 
whether  thrones  or  dominions  or  principalities  or 
powers  ;  all  things  have  been  created  through  him 
and  unto  him  ;  and  he  is  before  all  things,  and  in 
him  all  things  consist.'  In  these  passages  there  is 
affirmed  of  Christ  a  relation  of  Headship  to  the 
universe  alike  for  the  j)ast,  the  present,  and  the 
future.  In  Him  all  things  were  created  at  the 
first.  In  Him  they  even  now  consist  as  their  vital 
Head,  the  underlying  ground  of  their  very  being. 
And  unto  Him  from  whom  they  had  their  origin 
they  shall  all  finally  return,  in  the  day  of  that 
great  consummation  when  God  shall  '  gather  to- 
gether all  things  under  a  head  in  Christ.' 

With  this  Pauline  doctrine  of  the  Headship  of 
Christ  over  (1)  the  Church,  (2)  the  human  race,  (3) 
the  universe,  it  is  interesting  to  compare  the  teach- 
ing of  the  Fourth  Gospel  regarding  (1)  the  union 
of  Christ  as  the  living  Vine  with  His  people  as  the 
branches  (.Jn  15"')  ;  (2)  the  true  Light  which 
lighteth  ever}'  man  that  Cometh  into  the  world 
(1")  ;  (3)  the  creative  Logos  '  without  [whom]  was 
not  anything  made  that  hath  been  made'  (V). 


HEALING.— See  Cures. 

HEARING.— 1.  There  are  two  Gr.  verbs  (d/coiJw, 
elaa.Kovu)  used  for  '  hear  '  in  the  Gospels,  and  they 
are  sometimes  rendered  in  the  EVbj-  'hearken,' 
'  listen  '  (RV),  '  come  to  the  ears  of,' '  to  be  noised.' 
Another  verb  (wapaKoiu)  is  used,  Mt  18",  and  trans- 
lated '  refuse  to  hear '  (RV),  and  Mk  5'"  where  the 
RV  is  'not  heeding'  (mg.  'overhearing').  The 
noun  (dnoi})  also  occurs,  and  is  rendered  '  hearing,' 
'  fame,'  '  report,'  '  rumour.' 

2.  The  most  obvious  meaning  of  'hear'  is,  of 
course,  to  be  endowed  with  thtfacultij  of  hearing, 
as  opposed  to  deafness  ;  and  in  this  sense  it  is  used 
in  Mt  11=  (Lk  7"),  Mk  '".  (See  Cures,  De.\f 
AND  Dumb). 

Next,  perhaps,  in  order  of  common  usage  are 
such  meanings  of  the  woi'd  as  (n)  to  hare  immediate 
perceptual  experience  through  the  orffan  of  hearing 
— the  object  wing  either  personal,  as  Mt  2"  '  Havin" 
heard  the  king,'  or  impersonal,  as  Mt  W*  'Tell 
John  the  things  which  ye  do  hear' ;  (6)  to  find  out 
(by  hearsay),  to  have  information  about,  learn  (i.e. 
hear  of  mediately) — the  object  again  l)eing  either 
personal,  as  Mk  7°*  '  A  woman  .  .  .  having  heard 


of  him,'  or  impersonal,  as  Mk  6^=  '  where  they 
lieard  he  was.'  In  connexion  with  (a)  and  (6)  it  is 
interesting  to  note  the  passages  in  which  the  ex- 
l)erience  of  Jesus  is  referred  to  :  e.g.  (re)  Mt  S'" 
(Lk  7')  21"«  2V\  Mk  5*^,  Lk  S**  18^^;  (6)  Mt  4>2 
'J'-  (Mk  2"),  Jn  9»  IV-  «. 

3.  The  suggestive  uses  of  the  word,  however,  are 
those  in  which  more  complex  experiences  than  the 
previous  ones  are  signified  by  it.  (a)  The  first 
usage  to  be  named  under  this  head  is  where  the 
verb  '  to  hear '  is  used  to  mean  the  receiving  of 
inward  communications.  For  example,  Jesus  pre- 
dicts the  criininir  of  the  hour  'when  the  dead  shall 
hear  the  v.ir,.  nt  \\w  Son  of  God'  (Jn  5^^). 
Again  He  u-r-  tin  \\i,\-,[  to  describe  His  ovm  ex- 
pc)-ience  in  rJntinii  n,  the  revelation  of  the  truth 
ivhichHc  rcijuiiedf/uiii.  the  Father  and  made  known 
to  men,  'As  I  hear,  I  judge'  (5*');  'The  things 
which  I  have  heard  from  him  (that  sent  me),  these 
speak  I  unto  the  world '  (8^) — these  as  well  as  S'" 
and  15'=  are  instances  in  point.  The  Evangelist 
John,  speaking  of  Jesus,  says,  similarly,  '  What 
he  hath  seen  and  heard,  of  that  he  beareth  wit- 
ness '  (3''^).  In  two  places  Jesus  refers  to  the  occur- 
rence of  this  experience  in  the  case  of  others:  'Ye 
have  neither  heard  his  voice  at  any  time,'  He  says 
to  His  Jewish  audience,  '  nor  seen  his  form '  (o")  ; 
'  Eveiy  one  that  hath  heard  from  the  Father,  and 
hath  learned,  cometh  unto  me '  (6").  Finally,  the 
inward  communication  may  be  far  otherwise  than 
Divine  in  its  source.  To  the  Jews,  Jesus  is  re- 
ported by  the  Evangelist  John  as  having  said,  '  Ye 
do  the  things  which  ye  heard  from  your  father ' 
(8**),  and  later  on  in  tlie  same  chapter  (v.")  their 
father  is  declared  bv  Him  to  be  the  devil.  It  is 
characteristic  that  all  the  above  usages  are  found 
in  the  Fom-th  Gospel,  (b)  In  a  few  contexts  the 
word  '  hear '  is  used  with  reference  to  God's  attitude 
to  prayer.  For  example,  we  read  that  at  the  grave  of 
Lazarus  '  Jesus  lifted  up  his  eyes,  and  said.  Father, 
I  thank  thee  that  thou  heardest  me.  And  I  knew 
that  thou  hearest  me  always'  (II'"-'").  In  His 
teaching  with  regard  to  prayer  Jesus  warns  His 
hearers  against  using  vain  repetitions,  'as  the 
Gentiles  do  :  for  they  think  that  they  shall  he 
heard  for  their  much  speaking '  (Mt  6').  To 
Zacharias  the  angel  Gabriel  is  reported  as  liaWng 
said,  '  Fear  not,  because  thy  supplication  is  heard  ' 
(Lk  I''').     [ciVoKoi'iai  is  the  verb  used  in  both  tlie 


preceding  contexts].  The  man,  blind  from  his 
birth,  whom  Jesus  cured  on  the  Sabbath,  thus 
addressed  the  Jews,  '  We  know  that  God  heareth 
not  sinners ;  but  if  any  man  be  a  worshipper  of 
God  and  do  his  will,  him  he  heareth '  (Jn  93'). 
(c)  Another  context  may  be  noticed  here,  viz.  that 
one  in  wliii  h  .lr-u~.  rf-.r,-i//ing  the  function  of  the 
Spirit,  sinr  i>t'  linn,  lie  shall  not  speak  from 
himself;  im;  \\li;ii  tliiiiLTs  soever  he  shall  hear, 
these  shall  he  sijcuk  i  ill'  ).  (rf)  In  certain  passages 
emphasis  is  placed  nil  tl,r  /irn-ilr^tr  of  'hearing'  or 
'  becoming  acquaint  I  'I  n-'ith'  \\y<-  ;_'osnel.  'Blessed 
are  your  eyes,'  said  .Irr-u^  tn  the  di.sciples,  'for 
they  see  ;  and  your  ears,  t(ir  they  hear.  For 
verily  I  say  unto  you,  that  many  prophets  and 
righteous  men  desired  to  see  the  things  which  ye 
see,  and  saw  them  not ;  and  to  hear  the  things 
which  ye  Iiear,  and  heard  them  not'  (Mt  13'^", 
Lk  10-^).  The  duties  attached  to  this  privilege 
may  be  grouped  in  the  following  way— (1)  in  re- 
spect to  the  exercise  as  such  :  '  He  that  hath  ears 
to  hear,  let  him  hear'  (Mt  11'=  13'-  «,  cf.  Mk  4^-  » 
7"=,  Lk  8»  14^=) ;  (2)  in  respect  to  that  which  the 
attention  is  given  to  :  '  Take  heed  what  ye  hear ' 
(Mk  4^^) ;  (3)  in  respect  to  the  manner  of  hearing  : 
'Take  heed  therefore  how  ye  hear'  (Lk  8'«).  (e) 
In  a  large  number  of  passages,  especially  in  the 
parable  of  the  Sower,  'hearing'  either  implies  one 
or  otJier  of  certain  richer  experiences,  or  it  is  ex- 


HEARING 


HEART 


709 


pliutlij  i 


I'tiiiM's  Ihr  cxiiiTi'Mir'c  implied,  or 
mentioncMl  n- thill  in  wliidi  ■  licaviii- '  fulfils  itself 
(or  does  not  fiiltil  itself),  is  ,nH/r,:-<l,i,ii/iiig  or  learn- 
ing. For  example,  referring  to  the  multitude 
generally,  Jesus  said  to  the  disciples,  'Therefore 
speak  I  to  them  in  parables :  because  seeing  they 
see  not,  and  hearing  they  hear  not,  neither  do 
they  understand'  (Mt  13",  Mk  4'=,  Lk  8'").  (See 
art.  Seeing).  '  Hear  and  understand.  Not  that 
which  entereth  into  the  mouth  defiletli  the  man  ; 
but  that  which  jiroceedeth  out  of  the  mouth,  this 
defileth  the  man'  (Mt  15'",  Mk  7").  '  With  many 
such  parables  spake  he  tlie  word  unto  them,  as 
they  were  able  to  hear  it '  (Mk  4''-'),  etc.  (2)  Some- 
times the  experience  is  belienng.  For  example, 
some  of  the  Samaritans  are  ie];3orted  as  having 
said  to  the  woman  who  conversed  with  Jesus  at  the 
well,  '  Now  we  believe,  not  because  of  thy  speak- 
ing :  for  we  have  heard  for  ourselves'  (Jn  4^=). 
'  Verily,  verily,  I  say  unto  you,'  said  Jesus  to  the 
Jews,  when  they  were  seeking  to  kill  Him,  '  He 
that  heareth  my  word,  and  believeth  him  that 
sent  me,  hatli  eternal  life  '  (5-*).  '  This  is  an  hard 
saying,'  said  many  of  the  disciijles  after  Jesus  had 
spoken  of  Himself  as  tlie  bread  which  came  down 
from  heaven,  '  who  can  hear  it  V '  (&").  Cf.  also  the 
references  in  Jn  10  to  the  sheep  '  hearing '  the  voice 
of  the  Good  Shepherd.  (3)  Sometimes  the  experi- 
ence is  doing,  bearing  fruit,  or  keeping.  For  ex- 
ample, the  verses  at  the  close  of  the  Sermon  on  the 
Mount,  '  Every  one  which  heareth  these  sayings  of 
mine  and  doeth  them  .  .  .  Every  one  that  heareth 
these  sayings  of  mine  and  doetli  them  not'  (Mt 
r^-'^,  Lk  e"-*").*  'He  that  was  sown  upon  the 
good  ground,  this  is  he  that  heareth  the  word,  and 
understandeth  it ;  who  verily  beareth  fruit  and 
bringeth  forth,'  etc.  (Mt  IS''',  Mk  4=»,  Lk  8'^). 
When  it  was  told  Jesus  that  His  mother  and 
His  brethren  stood  without  desiring  to  see  Him, 
He  said,  '  My  mother  and  my  brethren  are  these 
which  hear  the  word  of  God  and  do  it '  (Lk  8^^'). 
When  a  certain  woman  out  of  tlie  multitude  said 
to  Jesus,  '  Blessed  is  the  womb  that  bare  thee,  and 
the  breasts  which  thou  didst  suck,'  He  answered, 
'  Yea  rather,  blessed  are  they  that  hear  the  word 
of  God  and  keep  it=  (Lk  11=»,  cf.  Jn  12"). 

The  above  divisions  represent  the  main  usajres  of  the  word 
'  hearing.'  It  is  interesting  to  notice  the  contexts  in  which  (i.) 
the  interest  displayed  in  anticipation  of  hearing  is  described, 
and  these  may  be  collected  together  vi'ilhout  further  remark  : 
Mt  12«  (Lk  1131),  1317  (Lk  10«),  Mk  38  (cf.  Mt  425,  Mk  320  etc.), 
Lk  61. 15  6"  151  1948  2138  238 ;  and  (ii.)  those  in  which  certain 
emotional  results  are  described  as  resulting  from  '  hearing,' 
e.g.  wonder,  astonishment,  amazement,  etc.,  joy,  rejoicing,  glad- 
ness, etc.,  indignation,  wrath,  etc.,  sorrow,  fear,  trouble,  per- 
plexity, offence'(see  articles  on  most  of  these  subjects). 

In  conclusion,  it  may  be  pointed  out  that  the 
antinomy  which  is  found  throughout  Scripture 
and  is  testified  to  by  tlie  human  consciousness  in 
(■onnexion  with  religious  experience,  viz.  between 
'  man's  working  out  and  God's  working  in,'  ap- 
pears in  what  is  said  about  '  hearing'  in  the  Gos- 
pels. For  along  with  exhortations  addressed  to 
men  to  'hear'  and  to  fulfil  that  experience  in 
understanding,  believing,  and  doing,  there  occurs 
as.iying  .if  Jesus  like  this,  'Everyone  that  hath 
lic;iril  from  the  Father  and  hath  learned,  coraeth 
urn,  nie'  (.Jn  6«).  _  The  'ability  to  hear'  (Mk  i^^, 
Jn  t)"")  ini)>lies  an  inward  communication  from  God 
an  1  an  ('xcrcise  of  man's  natural  faculties. 

l.ii>,PAi;' UK  — Grimm-Thayer's  Gr.  Lex.  s.vv.  \  Moulton- 
fJe!':i.;  r,'-    Cjitcordance,  etc.;  see  also  Literature  appended 

to  lit  .-sKDiNfi  ^   B_  Macaulay. 


h  tills  iiassage  it  is  worth  noting  that  the 
.M  t  r I  the  '  rock '  and  the  '  sand  '  as  founda. 
M '11  'hearing  and  doing'  and  'hearing 
lia.jl  tlement  is  the  same  in  both  cases— 

Aliirli  gives  it  the  cohesiveness  and  per- 

'  doing  '-habitual  obedience 


HEART In  the  NT  'heart'  (KapUa.)  is  the  word 

most  commonly  used  to  denote  the  inner  nature  of 
man,  the  secret  core  of  his  being,  where  the  springs 
of  his  intellectual  and  moral  activity  reside.  In 
this,  its  general  significance,  it  is  the  equivalent  of 
the  Hebrew  term  jh  or  DaS  in  the  OT.  Originally 
employed  to  designate  the  bodily  organ  which  is 
the  centre  of  the  animal  life,  it  came  by  a  natural 
jirocess  of  thought  to  be  applied  to  the  invisible 
centre  of  the  thinking  and  responsible  life.  In  this 
sense  it  occurs  with  notable  frequency  in  the 
(Jospels  ;  btit  there,  like  the  corresponding  word  in 
the  (JT,  whilst  always  referring  to  man's  interior 
nature,  it  is  used  in  a  variety  of  applications, 
according  to  the  particular  functions  or  aspects  of 
that  nature  which  are  meant  to  be  expressed.  This 
is  the  case  also  in  the  other  NT  writings. 

i.    SHAUE.S     OF     MEANING     IN     THE     GOSPEL.S. — 

Heart  in  the  Gospels  is  variously  regarded — 1.  A.i 
the  faculty  of  thought,  intelligence,  and  Memory. — 
Persons  are  spoken  of  as  pondering  (Lk  2"),  musing 
(3'*),  reasoning  (5--),  having  thoughts  arising  (Mt 
9^  Lk  Q'"  2438)  in  their  heart ;  understanding  or  not 
with  their  heart  (Mt  13'^  Mk  6==  8") ;  keeping,  or 
laying  up,  things  said  or  done,  in  their  heart  (Lk 

16b' 251). 

2.  As  the  .scat  of  the  affections,  cmotionji,  and 
passions :— e.g.  of  love  for  God  ( Mt '2'2^',  Lk  10"), 
for  earthl.y  or  heavenly  treasure  (JSIt  6"*"-') ;  of  jo.y 
(Jn  le--'^  Lk  24^=) ;  of  sorrow  (Jn  14'  16«) ;  of  for- 
givingness  (Mt  18'«),  purity  (5»),  humility  (1P») ;  of 
good  or  evil  dispositions  (12^^-  ^),  perverse  inclina- 
tion (5-*  24'"'),  luxurious  tastes  and  desires  (Lk  21**). 

3.  As  (he  source  of  purpose  and  volition. — The 
disciples  are  enjoined  to  settle  in  their  hearts  not 
to  meditate  what  they  shall  say  (Lk  21") ;  the  fell 
design  of  Judas  was  put  into  his  heart  by  Satan 
(Jn  13-) ;  the  adulterous  act  is  virtually  done  in  the 
intention  of  the  heart  (Mt  5-*). 

4.  As  the  organ  of  moral  discernment  and  religi- 
uiis  belief,  i.e.  of  conscience  and  faith. — Reproofs 
are  given  for  the  hardness  of  heart  which  prevents 
the  reception  of  the  truth  (Mt  lO',  Uk  3^  16"),  and 
for  slowness  of  heart  to  believe  (Lk  24-5) .  there  is 
an  exhortation  not  to  doubt  in  the  heart,  but  be- 
lieve (Mk  11-^);  and  the  pure  in  heart  have  the 
promise  of  Divine  illumination  (Mt  5*). 

In  one  passage  only  we  find  the  phrase  '  the  heart 
of  the  earth '(Mtl^""). 

ii.  CHELS'T'S  EMPHASIS  ON  THE  HEART.— The 
superlative  importance  which  Christ  attached  to 
the  heart  and  its  right  condition  was  one  of  the 
pre-eminent  characteristics  of  His  teaching.  He 
possessed  an  unrivalled  insight  into  the  workings 
of  the  heart  (Jn  2^'  -*),  and  could  read  what  -was 
going  on  there  with  a  penetration  and  accuracy 
often  startling  (Mt  9*  l^'"'  22i8,  Mk  2*,  Lk  9").  But 
His  unique  peculiarity  was  the  seriousness  and 
persistency  with  which  He  dealt  with  the  heart, 
and  laboured  for  its  purification  as  the  one  concern 
vital  to  the  well-being  of  men.  To  the  heart  He 
always  appealed,  and  on  its  deepest  instincts  He 
sought  to  bring  His  influence  to  bear;  and  although 
in  many  of  His  utterances  the  heart  is  not  expressly 
named,  it  is  still  obvious  that  He  had  it  directly  in 
view.  This  was  the  'inwardness'  which  consti- 
tuted His  great  secret.  The  main  points  on  which 
He  insisted  were : 

1.  The  heart  as  the  source  of  all  the  good  or  the 
evil  in  men's  lives. — He  dwelt  on  this  with  special 
earnestness— e.i/.  in  His  reply  to  the  tradition- 
bound  objectors,  '  Out  of  the  heart  proceed  evil 
thoughts,  murders,  adulteries,'  etc.,  'the  things 
which  defile  a  man'  (Mt  IS'"'-);  and  in  that  sug- 
gestive saying,  '  A  good  man  out  of  the  good 
treasure  of  his  heart  bringeth  forth  that  which  is 
good,  and  an  evil  man  out  of  the  evil  treasure  of 
his  heart  bringeth  forth  that  which  is  evil'  (Lk 


no 


HEART 


HEART 


6") ;  and  the  idea  is  to  be  found  running  througli 
all  His  teaching. 

2.  The  dispositions  and  motives  of  the  heart  as 
determining  the  reliqioits  value  of  actions. — Jesus 
unfailingly  taught  tliat  the  test  of  a  man's  worth 
before  God  was  not  the  outward  propriety  of  his 
conduct,  but  the  heart-inclinations  and  purposes 
by  which  he  was  swayed  (Lk  16'^).  Even  a  cor- 
rectly decorous  Pharisee  like  Simon  did  not  stand  so 
high  in  the  Divine  estimation  as  the  frail  woman 
who  had  erred  sadly,  because,  while  he  was  proud 
and  self-satisfied  in  liis  moral  respectability,  she, 
amid  all  her  failings,  was  melted  into  heartfelt 
penitence  and  gratitude  (7^""').  A  man's  con- 
duct may  be  free  from  all  formal  commission  of 
impurity,  but  if  he  lust  after  a  woman  in  his 
heart,  the  stain  of  impurity  is  already  incurred 
(Mt  5^).  Many  things  outwardly  right  and  proper 
were  done  by  the  religionists  of  His  day — seasons 
of  prayer  duly  observed,  alms  given,  etc. — which 
yet  He  pronounced  to  be  of  little  moral  value 
because  done  from  a  false  motive,  the  desire  for 
social  credit,  '  to  be  seen  of  men '  (6-'  ^).  On  the 
other  hand,  humble  and  obscure  actions,  like  the 
widow's  offering  and  the  publican's  supplication, 
He  declared  to  be  of  inestimable  worth  in  the  eye 
of  Heaven,  by  reason  of  the  genuine  heart-feeling 
from  which  they  sprang  (Mk  12^'-",  Lk  IS"-"). 
And  in  the  great  Judgment-picture  (Mt  25^'"''^),  He 
made  it  clear  that  it  is  the  frank,  unaffected  gene- 
rosity of  the  heart,  finding  expression  in  deeds  of 
simple  dutifulness,  that  ranks  high  in  the  Father's 
sight  and  secures  the  reward  of  immortal  blessed- 
ness. Always  and  everywhere  He  pierced  below 
surface  appearances,  and  demanded  inner  rectitude 
as  the  criterion  of  worth. 

3.  The  regeneration  of  the  heart  as  essential  both 
to  a  right  relation  to  God  and  to  true  happiness. — 
The  repentance  Jesus  preached  meant  a  change  of 
heart  (Mt  4"  9>3,  Lk  13') ;  the  conversion  He  urged 
as  a  necessity  was  a  turning  of  the  heart  to  God  as 
the  source  of  life  and  grace  (Mt  13'*,  Mk  4'=,  Jn 
12*'),  a  restoration  of  the  childlike  spirit  (Mt  IS^), 
a  new  birth  within,  apart  from  which  it  is  impos- 
sible to  enjoy  the  blessings  of  the  heavenly  King- 
dom ( Jn  3'"'). 

iii.  Evils  counteracted  by  Christ's  teach- 
ing. —  Of  these,  four  at  lea.st  may  be  specially 
noted : 

1.  A  pretentious  ecclesiasticism. — Men's  minds 
were  drawn  away  from  dependence  on  the  mere 
institutional  aspects  of  religion,  and  confronted 
with  the  absolute  necessity  of  internal  righteous- 
ness. When  orthodox  Jews  took  a  stand  on  their 
connexion  with  an  ancient  religious  organization 
with  its  high  covenanted  privileges,  and  boasted  of 
being  children  of  Abraham,  Christ  flatly  challenged 
their  right  to  such  a  title,  because  of  the  vile  pur- 
poses they  cherished  in  their  hearts,  which  proved 
that  they  did  not  possess  Abraham's  spirit  (Jn  8'"). 
He  avowed  that  a  scorned  publican  like  Zacchreus, 
who  was  outside  the  pale  of  ecclesiastical  recogni- 
tion, was  more  truly  a  son  of  Abraham,  in  -virtue 
of  the  higher  dispositions  which  had  been  stirred  in 
his  heart,  and  which  placed  hira  in  the  line  of  moral 
and  spiritual  descent  (Lk  19').  Again,  in  face  of 
the  arrogant  presumption  that  restricted  Divine 
blessing  and  salvation  to  those  within  the  bounds 
of  Judaism  and  its  religious  system.  He  lield  up 
the  kind  services  of  a  generous  heart  as  sufficient 
to  raise  even  a  Samaritan  to  a  level  of  equal  worth 
before  God  (l(p-»'). 

2.  An  external  ceremonialism. — Jesus  attacked, 
sometimes  with  fiery  indignation,  the  superficiality 
of  that  righteousness  which  was  based  on  a  punc- 
tilious attention  to  certain  prescribed  observances, 
— the  tithing  of  mint  and  cummin,  when  justice, 
mercy,  and  the  faith  of  the  heart  were  neglected 


(Mt  23=3,  Lk  11");  the  fastings  which  had  no 
genuine  penitence  behind  them  (Mt  6"- ") ;  the 
careful  washing  of  hands,  while  the  heart  was 
inwardly  defiled  (IS^-^).  It  was  His  dominant 
idea  that  on  the  disposition  of  the  heart  the 
spiritual  value  of  worship  depends  (Jn  4^"),  and  He 
had  strong  warnings  to  utter  against  the  offerings 
at  the  altar  when  sinister  feelings  were  nur.sed 
within  (Mt  5=3),  and  the  .ascription  of  honour  to 
God  with  the  lips  wliile  the  lieart  was  far  from 
Him  (15').  With  scathing  rebukes  He  exposed  the 
pretensions  of  those  who  claimed  peculiar  sanctity 
on  the  ground  of  their  ceremonial  scrupulousness, 
characterizing  them  as  whited  sepulchres,  out- 
wardly fair,  but  inwardly  full  of  uncleanness  (23='). 
Thus  He  represented  all  external  acts  of  righteous- 
ness which  do  not  spring  out  of  an  upright,  pious 
heart  as  a  mere  hypocritical  show,  and  not  real 
righteousness  (S'""). 

3.  A  legalistic  moralism. — In  view  of  the  fact 
that  the  great  spiritual  ideas  inculcated  by  the 
prophets  had  been  hardened  into  fixed  laws  and 
rules,  in  formal  obedience  to  which  righteousness 
was  made  to  consist,  Christ's  endeavour  to  recall 
men  to  the  supreme  importance  of  inner  motive 
was  calculated  to  exert  a  powerful  effect.  The 
confidence  which  many  had  in  their  moral  re- 
spectability was  necessarily  shaken  when  they 
found  themselves  forced  to  look  within,  and  judge 
themselves  by  something  higher  than  a  legal 
standard;  as,  e.g.,  in  the  case  of  the  young  man 
who  had  great  possessions,  and  whose  conduct 
outwardly  was  without  reproach  (Mt  19'*"==).  And 
there  can  be  little  dotibt  that  the  uneasiness  and 
irritation  created  among  the  professedly  religious 
classes  by  Christ's  teaching  was  largely  due  to 
the  consciousness  it  wakened  in  them  of  the  in- 
sufficiency of  the  grounds  on  which  their  claim  to 
righteousness  was  based.  In  the  light  of  the  stress 
He  laid  on  the  hidden  springs  of  action  in  the 
heart,  their  moral  regularity  of  life,  founded  on 
mere  conformity  to  laws  and  rules,  was  bound  to 
appear  unsatisfactory  and  poor. 

4.  A  self-sufficient  secularism.— Such  teaching, 
setting  the  renewed  dispositions  of  the  heart  far 
above  the  riches  and  honours  of  the  world  in 
value,  supplied  a  potent  counteractive  to  the  proud 
security  and  self-assumption  which  prosperous 
worldliness  is  apt  to  beget.  It  forced  home  the 
sense  of  something  wanting  within,  even  when  the 
outward  fortunes  were  flourishing.  The  parable  of 
the  Rich  Fool  is  a  vivid  picture  of  the  real  poverty 
of  the  man  who  trusts  in  his  worldly  success  and 
is  not  rich  in  the  things  that  belong  to  the  inner 
life  (Lk  12'«-=') ;  while  in  the  parable  of  the  Rich 
Man  and  Lazarus  there  is  another  picture,  fitted 
to  break  down  the  self-confidence  of  the  prosperous, 
showing  that  the  day  will  come  when  conditions 
may  be  reversed,  and  when  heart-qualities  alone 
will  determine  tlie  status  and  happiness  of  men 
(Lk  16'9-3i). 

iv.  The  revivifying  effect  on  religion.— 
By  His  insistence  on  the  heart  as  the  vital  element 
in  righteousness,  Christ  transformed  the  whole 
character  of  religion.  He  made  it  (1)  living, — not 
mechanical,  a  matter  of  prescribed  and  outwardly 
imposed  form,  but  dynamical,  a  free,  spontaneous 
spring  of  high  purpose  and  feeling;  not  some- 
thing put  on,  but  a  bent  and  impulse  of  the 
.spirit  OTthin.  Thus  He  gave  religion  an  elasticity 
and  perpetual  vitality  which  prophesy  for  it  per- 
manence and  power, — 'a  well  of  water  springing 
up  unto  everlasting  life '  (Jn  4''').     He  made  it  (2) 


effectually/  operative, — an  energizing  force,  working 
itself  out  in  practical  life,  impressing  its  hallowed 
deas  and  aims  on  the  world  of  affairs,  and  proving 


its  reality  by  the  heightened  quality  of  the  actions 
to  which  it  "leads.     And  He  made  it  (3)  a  gracious 


HEAT 


HEAVEN 


711 


influence, — commending  itself  to  tiie  general  con- 
science, winning  reverence,  inspiring  self-devotion, 
and  transmitting  from  heart  to  heart  fervours  of 
aspiration  after  the  things  of  God. 

LiTERATORE.— Cremer,  Bib.-Theol.  Lex.  s.v.  xxpi:^ ;  art.  'Herz' 
In  PRE';  Wendt,  Teaching  of  Jesus,  i.  2B5ff. ;  Martensen, 
Christian  Ethics  (Individual),  80  ff. ;  Weiss,  Bib.  Theol.  of  N'T, 
i.  124.  G.  M'Hardy. 

HEAT  (KoiJirwv),  Mt  20'%  Lk  12='* ;  RV  '  scorching 
heat,'  with  raarg.  'hot  wind.'  /cai/crui'  in  LXX 
has  both  meanings:  (1)  scorching  heat  (Gn  31", 
Is  491°,  Sir  18'"  43'--) ;  (2)  the  east  wind  (Dnu),  hot, 
dry,  dust-laden,  withering  up  all  vegetation,  and 
blowing  from  tlie  desert,  like  the  simoom  (Job  27"', 
Jer  18",  Ezk  17'"  19'^  Jon  4^,  Hos  13'=),  usually 
ivefios  or  TTveO/iiO  KaOa-wv.  AV  gives  '  burning  heat,' 
and  RV  '  scorching  wind '  in  Ja  1". 

The  first  meaning  seems  preferable  in  Mt  20'^, 
though  Trench  {Parables)  and  others  incline  to 
RVm.  'Onus  intrinsecus,  a  labore ;  ajstum  ex- 
trinsecus,  a  sole'  (Bengel).  Lk  12==  belongs  to  a 
class  of  passages  based  on  the  observation  of 
natural  phenomena  ;  cf.  Mt  5«  7"'-  24",  Lk  10'«,  Jn 
38  12-^.  Here  also  the  rendering  '  scorching  heat ' 
is  the  more  usual,  and  seems  to  agree  better  than 
'  hot  wind '  or  '  east  wind '  with  the  mention  of  the 
south  wind  [vdros)  which  immediately  precedes. 
Possibly,  however,  the  distinction  was  not  so 
clearly  marked  between  these  two  winds,  since  in 
Ezk  27-"  oni;  (east  wind)  is  translated  in  LXX  by 
rd  TTveufxa  tou  v6tov. 

The  only  reference  in  the  Gospels  to  heat  for  the 
purpose  of  warmth  is  Jn  18'"  'a  fire  of  coals' 
(dvepaKiaf),  i.e.  'of  charcoal'  RVm,  coals  having 
probably  still  this  meaning  at  the  time  of  the  AV. 
See  Wind. 

Literature.— Grimm-Thayer,  Lex.  s.v.  xxis-ant ;  Hastings'  DB, 
and  Encyc.  Bibl.  art.  '  Wind ' ;  Thomson,  Land  and  Book,  pp. 
296,  536f.  W.  H.  DUNDAS. 

HEATHEN.  — The  Anglo-Saxon  haethen,  'one 
who  lives  on  the  heaths  and  in  the  woods,'  as 
opposed  to  a  town-dweller;  cf.  'pagan,'  from 
pagamis,  '  a  countryman  or  villager.'  This  word  is 
an  indication  of  the  fact  that,  as  a  rule,  country- 
dwellers  were  Christianized  later  than  those  living 
in  towns  and  cities.  '  Heathen '  occurs  in  AV  of 
the  Gospels  in  Mt  6'  18",  and  not  at  all  in  RV, 
which  gives  '  Gentiles '  and  '  Gentile '  respectively 
in  these  two  places  (see  Gentilks). 

It  has  been  pointed  out  that  ^a.(7a»««  also  means 
'  a  civilian '  in  opposition  to  '  a  soldier,'  and  that 
thus  a  pagan  would  also  mean  one  who  was  not 
a  soldier  of  Christ.  This  secondary  meaning  of 
pagan  probably  came  into  use  through  a  con- 
temptuous designation  by  soldiers  of  non-military 
persons  as  '  countrymen.' 

Literature.— Murray,  Xew  English  Dictionary ;  and  Enci/c. 
Bibl.  s.v.  ;  Bigg,  The  Church's  Task  under  the  Roman  Empire, 
Lect.  ii.  p.  42,  note  2  ;  Trench,  Study  of  Wm-ds. 

Albert  Bonus. 

HEAVEN  (oupams,  sing,  and  plur.  ;  in  Mt^  plur. 
chiefly,  and  always  in  6  iraTJjp  6  iv  tois  oOpafoU,  and 
ij  ^aaiXeia  rdv  oOpavCjv). 

Three  uses  of  the  word  may  be  classified,  omitting  parallel 


I  Heaven  (Lk  215),  and 


avenly  host'  (Lk  213),  beholding  God  (Mtl8'»,  cf.  Lk 
oing  perfectly  His  wUl  (Mt  610). 


1518- 


The  use  of  '  Heaven  '  for  '  God '  is  put  beyond  question  by  Lk 

here  '  sinned  against  heaven '  can  only  mean  '  against 

other  uses  only   less  certain— thus  'from 

len '  (Mt  2125)  ia  clearly  '  from  God  or  from 


There 


God.' 

heaven  or  fro: 

men '  (cf.  Ac  : 

must  be  '  from  God.'    But  the  most  striking  i 

of   '  Heaven '  as  a  synonym  for  '  God '  is  in  the  phrase  '  the 

Kingdom  of  Heaven,''  almost  uniformly  in  Mt.  for  '  the  Kingdom 

of  God'  of  Mk.  and  Lk.,  and  this  in  exactly  parallel  passages. 

It  is  quite  possible  to  make  a  distinction  between  these  titles, 

but  it  seems  best  to  accept  them  as  synonymous.* 

Admitting  the  use  of  this  metonymy,  there  can  be  no  objec- 
tion to  its  use  in  other  instances  where  a  clear  meaning  follows. 
Thus,  '  bound,  loosed  in  heaven '  (Mt  lUia  IS")  =  '  of  God ' ; 
'The  keys  of  the  kingdom  of  heaven '(Mt  1619)=the  authority 
of  God;  ' names  written  in  heaven' (Lk  1020)  =  acceptance  with 
God,  cf.  Ex  32^-.  The  demand  for  '  a  sign  from  heaven '  (Mt  161, 
Lk  1116),  while  it  may  refer  to  the  expectation  of  some  visible 
wonder  out  of  the  sky,  has  ultimate  reference  to  some  direct 
act  of  God.  Anything  'from  heaven'  is  an  act  of  God,  cf.  the 
judgment  upon  the  cities  of  the  Plain  (Lk  1729),  also  the  request 
of  the  disciples  (Lk  !)W).  Even  the  phrase  '  treasure  in  heaven ' 
has  its  exact  equivalent  in  '  rich  toward  God '  (Lk  1221).  Addi- 
tional instances  of  the  use  of  periphrasis  are  seen  in  'joy  in  the 
presence  of  the  angels  of  God'  (Lk  IS'O)  I 
confess  '  before  the  ai      "      " 

'from  above'  (Jn  1911);   'in  thy  sight'  (Mt  1126);    'the  Most 
High'  (Lk  132-  76  63.1,  cf.  Mk  5'). 

The  transition  from  Heaven  as  the  abode  of  God  to  '  Heaven ' 
as  a  synonym  for  '  God '  is  illustrated  in  the  custom  of  uplifting 
the  eyes  to  Heaven  when  God  is  addressed.  The  thought  of  the 
Temple  as  the  dwelling-place  of  God  led  to  the  habit  in  prayer  of 
turning  the  face  towards  Jerusalem  and  towards  the  Temple  (see 
1  K  i**.  J8,  Dn  610,  ps  282  1382).  with  the  higher  faith  of  God's 
transcendence,  as  One  dwelling  in  the  Heaven  of  Heavens,  came 
the  custom  of  lifting  up  the  eyes  to  the  Heavens  (Ps  1231).  The 
publican  '  would  not  "" 
(Lk  1813,  cf.  Ezr  90). 


'  God ; 


in  the  phr 

Lkien);  'Lordof  heav 

firmament,'  where  are  fixed  the  stars  and  'the  powers'  (Mt 

2429),  the  sky  (Mt  1B2  AV),  the  air  (Mt  6'«  820  1332,  Lk  85,  AV  in 

each),  the  trcasurv  of  the  clouds  (Mt  '2430  206-1),  the  winds  (Mt 

2431),  the  lightning  (Lk  172->),  the  rain  (Lk  426) ;  and  from  whence 

are  signs  and  portents  (Mt  2430,  Lk  21"). 

(h)  The  abode  of  God  and  angels. 

Heaven  is  'the  throne  of  God'  (Mt  634  2322,  of.  'Our  Father 
which  art  in  heaven,' Mt  69;  'your  Father  .  .  .  in  heaven,' Mt 
516.45  61711181-1239;  'My  Father  ...  in  heaven,' Mt -2M032.  33 
1250  1617  1810  19 ;  so  also  '  Heavenly  (•;/>«»/«)  Father,   Mt  6« 


(Jn  1141), 

1419,  Mk  734).      Tl 

culty,   but  whate 

objective 


the  cloud  ■  (Mt  175),  i 
the  attestation  to  Je 
with  God. 
It  is  this  which  is 


prayer,  Jesui 


(Jn  171); 

are  several  passages  which  present  diffi- 
conclusion  mav  he  come  to  as  to  the 
in  the  opening  of  the  heaN-ens  (Mt  316), 
the  heavens'  (Mt  317,  Jn  122s),  or  'out  of 
<  subjective  experience  is  the  vital  matter, 
s  of  His  commission  from  and  fellowship 

iyinbolically  represented  i 


nediatorship  of  Jesus  i 


declared.  His  revelation  of  God  to  man 
n  with  God.  The  striking  saying,  'No 
man  hath  ascended  into  heaven  but  he  that  descended  out 
of  heaven,  even  the  Son  of  man  which  is  in  heaven'  (Jn  313), 
has  additional  difficulty.  The  weight  of  MS  authority  is  against 
the  last  clause,  and  the  words  may  have  been  added  as  a  gloss 
after  the  Ascension.  If,  with  the  RV,  we  retain  them  as  the 
words  of  Jesus,  they  must  be  taken  as  qualifying  the  preceding 
utterance,  which  then  becomes  a  declaration  of  His  perfect 
fellowship  with  God  (cf.  Jn  lis)  rather  than  as  a  reference  to 
Heaven  as  a  place.  The  'heavenly  things'  (Jn  312)  are  without 
doubt  the  things  of  God,  the  new  revelation  of  His  grace  in 
Jesus  Christ. 

In  what  has  been  said  above  there  is  little  that 
is  distinctively  Christian.  The  threefold  use  of 
the  word  '  Heaven '  is  common  alike  to  the  OT  and 
Jewish  thought  of  the  time.  But  after  this  pre- 
liminary study  we  ought  to  be  in  a  better  position 
to  consider  the  characteristic  teaching  of  Jesus  and 
the  Christian  faith. 

1.  The  Kingdom  of  God  finds  its  perfect  realiza- 
tion in  a  future  state,  a  world  above  and  beyond 
earth,  the  Kingdom  in  Heaven.  This  is  the 
reiterated  lesson  alike  of  parable  and  of  direct  dis- 
course. All  the  judgment  parables,  where  separa- 
tion between  the  righteous  and  the  wicked  is 
declared,  clearly  teach  a  future  inheritance  of  bliss 
or  of  woe.  S<i  the  jiarablesof  the  Tares  (Mt  IS'"-), 
the  Vir-ins  (Mt  •_'.-)"•),  the  Talents  (Mt  25"'-),  and 
the  Unjust  Steward  (Lk  16"-,  where  under  the 
figure  of  '  eternal  tents '  the  future  Canaan  is  '  the 

•  See  Schurer,  IIJP  11.  ii.  171 ;  Wendt,  Teaching  of  Jesus,  i. 
371  n.  ;  Dalman,  Words  of  Jesus,  p.  93  ;  Bruce,  Expos.  Gr.  Test. 
on  Mt  32  n.,  cf.  also  his  Kingdom  of  God,  p.  58,  where  a  distmc- 
tion  is  suggested ;  also  Beyschlag,  NT  Theol.,  Bng.  tr.  1.  42, 
where  identity  of  meaning  is  granted,  but '  a  mere  paraphrase 
for  God'  denied;  and  Stevens,  Theol.  of  the  NT,  p.  27f.: 
'  interchangeably  in  Mt,'  but  '  of  Heaven'  denotes  origin  and 
attributes.' 


'12 


HEAVENLY  THIXGS 


HEIR 


past  idealized ').  In  accommodation  to  Jewish 
thought  and  hope,  the  reward  is  '  to  sit  down  witli 
Abraham  and  Isaac  and  Jacob  in  the  kingdom  of 
heaven'  (Mt  8",  Lk  13^),  a  hope  which  reaches 
beyond  the  life  of  earth.  The  final  consummation 
must  be  where  Jesus  Himself  is,  and  He,  who  came 
from  heaven  (Jn  S'^  "  (533.38.411.]^  ^y^g  'received  up 
into  lieaven'  (Mk  16'",  Lk  24=1,  Jn  20".  The  MS 
uncertainty  liere  in  Mk.  andiLk.  does  not  affect  the 
argument,  which  has  the  testimony  of  the  Apostolic 
writings).  Tliis  is  the  final  reward  of  the  faith- 
ful, the  inheritance  of  the  Kingdom  prepared 
before  the  foundation  of  the  world  (Mt  25^*  26^, 
Jn  14"). 

2.  The  nature  of  Heaven. — As  the  life  of  the 
Kingdom  is  fundamentally  ethical  (Mt  .1™  7='),  so  is 
the  nature  of  Heaven  itself.  It  is  the  fulness  of  the 
eternal  life,  which  in  the  Fourth  Gospel  is  the 
synonym  of  the  Kingdom.  Then  it  is,  and  there, 
that  'the  righteous  shine  forth  as  the  sun'  (Mt 
13^),  a  glory  certainly  of  character  whatever  else 
may  be  implied.  There,  too,  is  the  perfect  vision 
of  God  (Mt  5'). 

It  cannot  be  doubted  that  Jesus  meant  to  localize 
the  thought  of  Heaven.  The  sharp  contrast  be- 
tween Heaven  and  eartlx  (Mt  e'""-')  can  ha\e  no 
other  meaning.  In  His  teaching  God  is  no  mere 
all-pervading  Spirit,  lost  in  negative  infinitude. 
God,  as  transcendent,  immanent,  infinite,  alone, 
does  not  satisfy  His  revelation  of  '  the  Father  in 
heaven.'  Tliat  name  implies  that  in  some  world 
beyond  there  is  a  supreme  manifestation  of  His 
Presence,— a  Father's  House,  an  enduring  Holy  of 
Holies.  This,  for  Christian  faith,  is  the  Glory  of 
Christ  (Jn  17*),  and  to  be  with  Him  where  He  is 
and  to  behold  His  glory  is  the  hope  set  before  us 
in  the  gospel  (Jn  17=^). 

Wliat  the  activities  of  Heaven  may  be  is  told 
only  in  part.  They  that  are  .in  ..miru  N.-itliy  to 
attain   to   that  world    'are   :i  _  Mix    12-', 

Lk  20^''),  and  the  ministry  ni  m  .  i  1  .  ,  into 
the  Gospel  story.     The  faithful    ii     ^     i  t  over 

many  things,'  and  to  'enter  into  the  joy'  of  their 
Lord  (Mt  25-'-  ^\  which,  in  the  light  of  the  gospel, 
can  only  mean  higher  service. 

As  to  when  this  inheritance  is  entered  upon,  very 
different  conclusions  are  drawn  even  from  the 
words  of  Jesus.  The  question  is  considered,  for 
the  most  part,  from  the  standpoint  of  retribution. 
So  far  as  the  reward  is  considered,  it  may  be  said 
definitely  that  the  doctrine  of  an  Intermediate 
State  finds  no  support  in  Christ's  gosjjel.  The 
'  farewell  discourses '  of  the  Fourth  Gospel  would 
lose  all  their  force  by  the  introduction  of  this 
doctrine.  So  for  Christian  faith  the  highest  hope 
of  Heaven  finds  its  confident  expression  in  the 
words  of  St.  Paul :  '  absent  from  the  body  .  .  . 
at  home  with  the  Lord  '  (2  Co  5'). 

LiTERATCRS. — This  is  chiefly  of  a  devotional  or  sermonic  char- 
acter, but  the  authors  referred  to  above  should  be  consulted  ; 
also  Salmond,  Chrisliaii  Doctrine  0/  Immortalit;/ ;  and  Alger. 
Doctrine  0/  a  FtUnre  Life.  On  the  general  subject,  which 
lies  outside  the  scope  of  the  present  article,  and  especially  for 
the  Jewish  conceptions  of  Heaven,  see  the  works  on  -Biblical 
Theologv  ;  Morfill-Charles,  Book  of  the  Secrets  <4  F.nndt ;  art. 
'  Heaven '  in  Hastings'  DB.  W.  1 1 .  D  YSO.\ . 

E.VKTllLY     .\ND 


-This  word  belongs  to  the  vocabulary 
of  the  parables  of  Jesus.  It  occtirs  in  that  of  the 
Vineyard  (Mt  1V^,  Mk  12'),  and  in  that  of  the  Great 
Supper  ( Lk  14=^). 

1.  Literal  application. — The  hedge  is  a  detail  in 
the  outfit  of  a  vineyard,  one  of  many  other  pro- 
perties (Mt  21*' 11)  in  such  a  possession.  It  is  a 
feature  in  the  landscape  of  Palestine  in  the  other 
case  ('  highways  and  hedges,"  Lk  14^).     There  is  a 


connexion  between  the  uses  and  the  associations  of 
the  word.  The  contour  of  the  land  is  controlled 
by  the  tillage  of  the  soil.  Vines  need  hedges. 
The  word  (<ppayij.i)%)  used  for  a  hedge  in  the  Gospels 
'denotes  a  fence  of  any  kind,  whether  hedge,  or 
wall,  or  palings'  (Hastings,  DB  ii.  340).  Another 
word  might  rather  have  called  up  a  stone  wall. 
tppayiJi.6s  includes  all  the  different  kinds  of  hedges 
to  be  found  in  a  country  so  furrowed  with  hills 
and  valleys  as  is  Palestine. 

2.  The  parabolical  use  of  the  '  hedge  [  is  rooted 
in  the  education  of  Israel.      God  made  sea  and 
desert  a  hedge  of  Palestine.    Cf.  EUerton's  hymn— 
*  Praise  to  our  God,  whose  bounteous  hand 
Prepared  of  old  our  glorious  land, 
A  garden  fenced  with  silver  sea.'  .  .  . 
He  hedged  the  people.     He  gave  them  individuals, 
institutions,  the  whole  national  economj',  as  hedges 
to  protect  their  life  and  to  restrain  it.     Enemies 
raided  the  land  and  broke  down  the  hedges  (Ps 
79.  80).     Patriots  and  prophets  saw  and  sang  their 
gaps,  and  did  their  best  to  repair  the  historic  insti- 
tutional hedges.      The  tragedy  of  Jesus  and  the 
IiiiIl:   -  "  I  -  I  lilt  lie  wanted  tliem  rooted  up,  while 
till    .  .  ,  liated  the  idea  of  their  removal 

(Mi  -I  I  ;i!umli  the  tragedy  gleams  the /jAi/are- 

M/-V"  iiniiiTi  ..t  the  hedgelLk  14-5).  Theeyeoflove 
sees  humanity  sul)iiii-i;;tc|.  ■  rii.Mu  aUo  he  would 
bring.'  He  would  iii.ikc  In il^iniw  people  happy. 
He  had  seen  their  mi>ii  v  a^  lli>  ~tole  to  silent  mid- 
night prayer,  up  the  hil'l-i.k-.  with  their  mosaic  of 
fields,  along  whose  hedges  and  through  the  gaps  of 
which  He  passed  to  pray  to  the  Father  in  secret. 
It  is  humanity's  ragged  regiment  whom  He  would 
see  housed  by  the  compulsion  of  '  the  love  (Lk  14=*) 
that  will  not  let  them  go.' 

LiTERATiRE,— Geikie,  Life  of  Christ,  i.  ch.  17;  Thomson, 
Latid  aiui  Book,  ch.  14 ;  Phiiochriitus,  chs.  1-3  for  'Hedge  of 
the  Law.'  JoHN  R.  LEGGE. 

HEIR. — The  heir  ((tXijpoi-oMos)  is  one  who  enters 
on  a  position  of  privilege  different  from  that  of 
.sfrvants  (Mt  21^),  through  no  personal  exertion 
of  his  own,  but  as  the  result  of  filial  relationship. 
This  position  is  a  thoroughly  right  and  legal  one, 
and  absolutely  valid.  The  thought  of  succession 
to  a  title  upon  the  death  of  the  present  holder  is 
not  insisted  upon.  The  son  is  naturally  the  heir, 
and  the  title  is  one  of  present  privilege  as  well  as 
the  assurance  of  fuller  posisession  in  the  future. 

Christ,  the  Son.  is  the  lieir  of  all  things  (He  1=; 
cf.  our  Loid-  .ii.i.liratiou  of  tlie  term  to  Himself  in 
the  parabk-  ..t  tin-  Wirk.'.l  Husbandman,  Mt  215«). 
The  comjilrtr  lor.Ulii]i  om  r  Creation  was  given  to 
Adam  (Gn  1-',  1'-  s"i.  I'lic  land  of  Canaan,  again, 
was  promi-.,.!  1,.  AIh.iIliii.  and  his  seed  (Gn  13'^-  ">). 
These  assurainr.,  -w,;,  1,.  Adam  and  to  Abraham 
were  absolutely  liiliillc.l  in  Cliiist,  who,  as  the 
firstborn  of  aircreatiou.  iliin^rlt  bnth  the  Agent 
of  the  Creator's  work  anl  -iiuiniiiiL;  up  in  His  own 
Person  all  created  nl.jrcis  i(  ..1  1'^"),  enjoys  an 
eternal  and  incorruptible  inlieritance.  '  The  heir- 
ship of  the  Son  was  realised  in  the  Incarnation,  and 
in  its  essence  is  independent  of  the  Fall  (Westcott 
on  He  1-),  though  conditioned  by  it  as  to  its  cir- 
cumstances.' It  was  the  sin  of  man  which  caused 
the  suffering  and  humiliation  through  which  Christ, 
after  the  work  of  redemption  was  complete,  won  a 
name  which  is  above  every  name  (Ph  '2").  He 
had  inherited  in  the  eternal  purpose  of  God 
(IBriKff,  He  1=)  a  name  more  excellent  than  the 
angels  (1^). 

The  title  of  '  heir,'  then,  passes  on  to  those  who 
have  obtained  the  blessing  of  Divine  sonsbij)  in 
l>;iptism  or  Regeneration,  corresponding  spiritu- 
ally to  the  promise  made  to  Abraham.  The  Old 
Covenant  (Testament)  could  not  make  men  perfect, 
therefore  God  provided  them  with  more  strength. 


HELL 


HELL  (DESCENT  INTO) 


•13 


and  ill  place  of  a  worldly  inheritance  gave  tliem  a 
spiritual  and  eternal  one.  This  title  of  heirship 
may  be  forfeited,  if  those  who  are  called  to  it  are 
not  worthy  of  their  inheritance.  So  Christ  s])eaks 
in  the  Apocalypse  :  '  He  that  overcometli  ^li.ill  in- 
herit these  things  ;  and  I  will  be  his  God,  .nid  he 
shall  be  ray  son '  (Rev  21').  We,  then,  bLin-  uv.i.lr 
children  of  God  through  faitli  in  Christ,  uie  heir.^ 
according  to  the  promise  made  to  Abraham,  who 
was  accepted  through  faith  in  God's  word  against 
all  appearances.  No  longer  servants,  but  heirs, 
we  are  entitled  to  the  Divine  privilege  of  sonship 
through  adoption.  We  are  called  to  inherit  a 
blessing  as  all  true  servants  of  God  through 
Baptism. 

It  remains  to  be  seen  who  are  specially  men- 
tioned in  the  Gospels  as  heirs  to  this  privilege : 

(1)  'The  meek  shall   inherit  the  earth'  (Mt  5^). 

(2)  Those  who  have  given  up  houses,  lands,  earthly 
relationships,  etc.,  shall  receive  an  hundred-fold 
and  inherit  eternal  life,  Mt  19=»,  Mk  10",  Lk  18'«. 

(3)  The  sheep  in  the  parable  of  the  Sheep  and 
the  Goats  (Mt  25"''),  i.e.  those  who  have  shown 
mercy  to  the  weak  and  suffering,  and  whose 
service  has  been  accepted  by  Christ  as  done  to 
Himself,  shall  inherit  the  Kingdom  prepared  for 
them  from  the  beginning  of  the  world.  But,  on 
the  other  hand,  no  fornicator  or  unclean  person 
or  covetous  man,  who  is  an  idolater,  liatti  any 
inheritance  in  the  Kingdom  of  God  and  of  Christ 
(Eph  5').     See  also  Inhkritance. 

C.    H.    I'RICHARD. 

HELL.— See  Eschatology,  Gehenna,  and  the 
following  article. 

HELL  (Descent  into).— During  tlie  16tli  cent, 
tlie  Descent  of  Christ  into  Hades  was  made  the 
subject  of  acrimonious  debates.  Though  com- 
mentators still  differ,  they  discuss  the  subject  in 
a  more  peaceable  spirit,  and  offer  some  hope  of 
future  agreement  on  the  main  question.  We  must 
review— (1)  the  evidence  of  the  NT,  (2)  early 
Christian  tradition,  to  explain  (3)  the  insertion  of 
such  teaching  in  Creeds  and  Articles  of  Religion. 
We  may  then  (4)  summarize  the  history  of  the 
controversy  in  modern  times. 

1.  The  evidence  of  the  NT. — It  is  important  to 
distinguish  between  flie  bare  statement  of  the 
Descent  as  a  fact  in  the  history  of  our  Lord  as  the 
Son  of  Man,  which  is  acknowledged  by  all  who 
believe  that  He  truly  died,  and  any  theory  of  His 
mission  in  the  unseen  world,  wliicli  can  claim 
acceptance  only  after  careful  scrutiny  of  incidental 
references  to  it  in  the  NT  supported  by  the  inde- 
pendent testimony  of  the  earliest  Christian  tradi- 
tion. 

Hades  (Ai'S?;?),  corresponding  to  the  Heb.  Shcol, 
which  in  the  AV  of  the  OT  is  rendered  by  '  hell,' 
means  both  in  the  LXX  and  in  the  NT  the  abode 
of  departed  spirits.  This  was  the  general  mean- 
ing of  the  word  '  hell,'  the  unseen,  hidden  place 
which  is  the  abode  of  the  dead. 

In  the  OT  a  sense  of  gloom  and  unreality  was 
felt  about  the  lot  of  the  spirits  of  men  taken  away 
from  the  light  and  activity  of  earthly  life.  A't 
Hrst  no  distinction  was  supposed  to  exist  in  that 
shadowy  realm  between  good  and  bad  any  more 
than  lietween  king  and  subject.  But  in  NT  times 
such  ideas  had  grown  up,  and  our  I^ord  sanctioned 
current  belief  when  in  the  parable  of  Dives  and 
Lazarus  (Lk  16"-3')  He  contrasted  haijpinoss  in  the 
society  of  Abraham  with  misery  'in  uniiKnls.' 
This  agrees  with  His  promise  to  the  penitent  Oiief 
(23«)  :  '  To-day  shalt  thou  be  with  me  in  Paradise.' 
St.  Peter  in  his  first  sermon  (Ac  2-'-^')  quotes  Ps 
le'"  and  ex]>lains  the  words,  '  Thou  wilt  not  lea-  e 
my  soul  in  Hades,'  as  a  prophecy  of  the  KcMirec- 
tion  of  Christ,  which  received  no  fulfilment  in  (he 


case  of  David.  He  distinctly  implies  that  Christ's 
soul  pas.sed  into  Hades  at  His  death. 

St.  Paul  (Ro  10'),  adapting  Dt  SQi',  teaches  the 
same  truth  inferring  that  it  is  not  necessary  to 
sear.li  I  lie  .le|.ili,  since  Christ  is  risen  from  the 
'I' Mil.  lie  lejar.ls  the  Descent  as  the  preparation 
1..1  I  lie  A  ee|i,,,,|,  Kjih  4a  '  Now  this,  He  ascended, 
wliat  1,-,  It  but,  that  he  also  descended  into  the 
lower  parts  of  the  earth  ?'  In  the  LXX  rendering 
of  Ps  62"'  (63»),  this  phra.se,  t4  /cariiroT-a  rijt  7^$,  is 
referred  to  Hades.  It  is  therefore  probable  that 
St.  Paul  uses  it  in  the  same  sense.*  Obedience 
even  unto  death  secured  for  the  Lord  the  sove- 
reignty of  the  underworld  ;  His  descent  was  the 
pletlge  of  His  lordship  over  it  (Ph  2»»). 

The  famous  passage  1  P  S'""-"  (cf.  4")  introduces 
the  question  of  the  object  of  the  Descent :  '  Be- 
cause Christ  also  sutt'ered  for  sins  once,  the  right- 
eous for  the  unrighteous,  that  he  might  bring  us 
to  God  ;  being  juit  t.i  death  in  the  fiesh,  but  quick- 
ened in  the  spirit  :  in  wlnrli  .-ilso  he  went  and 
preached  untu  tlie  ,-|iiiits  m  ]iris<iii,  wliieh  afore- 
time were  disobedient,  "h  lii'M  the  long-sutiering  of 
God  waited  in  the  days  of  Noah,  while  the  ark  was 
a  preparing ' ;  4"  '  For  unto  this  end  was  the  gospel 
preached  even  to  the  dead,  that  they  might  be 
judged  according  to  men  in  the  flesh,  but  live 
according  to  God  in  the  spirit.' 

The  earliest  Christian  tradition,  which  was  pro- 
bably independent  of  this  passage,  certainly  sup- 
ports the  interpretation  that  Christ  preached  to 
the  spirits  of  the  men  and  women  who  were 
drowned  in  the  Flood.  Not  until  the  time  of  St. 
Augustine  was  any  other  interpretation  oft'ered. 
The  Apostle  is  endeavouring  to  encourage  his 
readers  in  Christlike  patience  under  persecution. 
Christ  died,  the  just  for  the  unjust,  but  His  death 
in  the  flesh  was  followed  by  quickening  in  the 
spirit.  Therefore  we  need  not  fear  death,  which 
will  bring  us  freedom  from  sin  and  increase  of 
spiritual  energy.  The  reference  which  follows 
(v.~)  to  the  Ascension  suggests  that  this  preach- 
ing took  place  after  Christ's  death,  and  not  that 
Christ  in  Noah  preached  to  the  men  of  Noah's 
time. 

In  view  of  modern  interpretations,  however,  we 
must  enter  further  into  detail.  irveviJi.a.Ta  in  the 
NT  generally  refers  to  angels  (Ac  23*),  b\it  it  refers 
also  to  spirits  of  the  dead  (He  12-3,  ^,f_  Lk  243'-3»). 
And  1  P  4'^  proves  that  this  is  the  sense  liere.t 

Some  critics  suppose  tliat  tlie  preaching  was  to 
the  fallen  angels  mentioned  in  2  P  2^  Jude  ^  ; 
according  to  Baur,  after  Christ's  deatli  ;  according 
to  Spitta,  before  the  Im-.arnation.  This  view  is 
regarded  by  Charles  (art,  '  l';sili:i,t..lugy '  in  Enryc. 
Bibl.)  as  the  only  pn-ihle  .ilienrative.  But 
Charles  holds  that'Clm-t  |.riMihed  a  gospel  of 
redemption  between  His  death  and  His  resur- 
rection. Salmond  thinks  that  the  key  may  be 
found  in  a  non-canonical  Jewish  book.  Others, 
again,  think  that  Enoch  was  regarded  as  an  in- 
carnation of  tlie  Messiah,  and  that  the  passage 
refers  to  his  preaching.  But  as  Clemen  says 
(Niedergefahren,  p.  131),  while  we  hear  in  the 
Book  of  Enoeli  (12^"^-  13"  14"^-)  of  a  preaching  of 
punishnieiit  to  f.illen  .niuels,  we  hear  nothing  of  a 
preaeliine  of  ^,il\  :ii  i.iii  (o  I  he  souls  of  men. 

Perli.i|.s  tie'  ine-i  e\ I  i;i(,nUnary  interpretation 
of  all  is  thiit  wliieh  Clemen  quotes  from  Cramer. 
An  unknown  person,  in  po.ssession  of  1  and  2  Pet., 
is  supposed  to  have  been  reminded  by  v.-  of  a 
former  vvoTayr)  of  angels,  and  therefore  nn  the  basis 
ef  2  P  2"-  with  wliich  he  compared  .hide  ''•  "  and 


*  Some  commentators  explain  the  words  as  contrasting  the 
earth  beneath  with  the  heavens  above,  and  refer  them  to  the 
Incarnation  when  Christ  descended  to  the  earth. 

t  The  tense  of  iiu.yyikl/THr,  shows  that  the  preachintj  was  re- 
garded as  a  completed  act  in  the  past. 


714 


HELL  (DESCENT  INTO) 


HELL  (DESCENT  INTO) 


also  the  Book  of  Enoch,  is  supiiosed  to  have  written 
in  the  margin :  'Ej'ojx  Toh  iv  ipvXaKrj  Tnie('fia<TLv  Topcvdels 
iK-qpv^ev,  k.t.\.,  understanding  vvei'/ianv  of  angels 
and  eKripv^ev  of  a  concio  damnatoria.  Some  one  else 
at  a  later  time,  referring  the  first  word  to  the  souls 
of  the  departed  and  the  latter  to  the  preaching  of 
salvation,  reading  ENfiK  for  ENS2X,  and  this  again 
for  iv  ij  Kal,  took  the  whole  into  the  text  after  v.'* ! 

Sucli  speculations  are  absurd.  On  the  other  hand, 
it  is  reasonable  to  explain  the  iKiipv^ev  of  the  one 
passage  by  the  (vayycKlaB-ri  of  the  other,  to  main- 
tain that  repentance  was  offered,  rejecting  the  sug- 
gestion that  Christ  preached  only  to  the  righteous, 
or  to  tliose  who  had  repented  at  the  moment  of 
death,  or  to  some  the  gospel  and  to  others  damna- 
tion. 

If  it  is  asked.  Why  should  only  the  generation 
of  Noah  profit  by  it  ?  we  can  say  that  they  were 
typical  sinners,  cut  off  in  their  sins,  whose  fate 
was  questioned  at  that  time.  Bigg  shows  that  '  it 
is  jjossible  that  St.  Peter  is  here  expressing  in  a 
modified  form  a  belief  which  was  current  in  the 
Jewish  schools.'  Certain  passages  in  the  Book  of 
Enoch  seem  to  mean  that  the  antediluvian  sinners 
have  a  time  of  repentance  allowed  them  between 
the  first  judgment  (the  Deluge)  and  the  final  judg- 
ment ;  e.g.  69'-^  '  There  was  great  joy  among  them 
because  the  name  of  the  Son  of  Man  was  revealed 
unto  them,'  Bereshith  Rabba  :  (a)  'But  when  they 
that  are  bound,  they  that  are  in  Gehinnom,  saw 
the  light  of  the  Messiah,  they  rejoiced  to  receive 
Him';  (6)  'This  is  that  wh'ich  stands  written: 
"We  shall  rejoice  and  exult  in  Thee."  When? 
When  the  captives  climb  up  out  of  hell,  and  the 
Shekinali  at  their  head.' 

We  may  hope  that  research  will  yet  further  en- 
lighten us  on  these  points.  Enougli  has  been  said 
to  prove  that,  in  the  words  of  Professor  Charles 
(art.  cited) : 

'  These  passages  in  1  Peter  are  of  extreme  value.  They  attest 
the  achievement  of  the  final  stap:e  in  the  moralization  of  Sheol. 
The  first  "fci'  in  '!"«  mornli^ation  "n.;  tikpn  parly  in  the  2n(i 
cent.  n.r. ,  \'  li.  h  It  \\,i-  1 1  iii~i.  r  M  ,|  ii,(..  L  il  I  i.  of  moral  distinc- 
tions, li;r.iii_   : i;.ih.:i.     .u  '   .|.       -i >< •ial  or  national 

distiii't Ill,  .  <r\  inadequately 

tinued  U)  U^-  Lill  Ihc-  Ijh.lI  juilL;in^iiL..  i  iuiii  Llic  standpoint  of 
a  true  theisnt  can  we  avoid  pronnmuin-  tliis  conception  mechani- 
cal and  unethical?  It  precludes  moral  change  in  moral  beings 
who  are  under  the  rule  of  a  perfectly  moral  being.' 

2.  Early  Christian  tradition.— The  belief  that 
Christ's  descent  intn  Iladi's  changed  in  someway 
the  condition  of  the  fiiitlifiil  departed  meets  us  in 
the  earliest  Christian  tradition. 


Ignatius  (a.d.  ll.s),  writing  to  the  M;. 
'Even  the  prophets,  being  His  discipl.  s. 


their  teacher  through  1 


a^  ing,  Hast  thou  preaclied  to  them  that  sleep  '  and  a  response 
ras  heard  from  the  cross,  Yea.' 
The  apocryphal  Gospel  oj  Sicodenuts.  a  name  given  in  the 

Mil  .  uit   to  t«n  mui-li  older  lin.)l,s,  the  ,t,'(s  nf  Pilate,  and  the 
?.         '      '    //  "  t  11    •!  I    -  1        tilt  tlu   two  brothers  with 


"  '(1          \       ,     '  ' 

1  ^^  nter  who  brings 

til.  1 

the  tradition  that 

Chii  1       1'.       Id    1     1    II     1    111 

1 

.     taught  that  the 

heathen.  ,is  well  as  tiic  .K«s,  shar 

ie\  elation  made  to 

the   !,oiil.   in   Uadib.      He   quotes 
taught  tliat  the  Apostles  and  first 

Ikliiias 

(.s-i)/i.  IX.  16).  who 

teachers  of  the  gospel,  «  hen 

the\  entered  into  rest,  preached  to 

the  souls 

m  Hades.     Clement 

iStrum.  11.  9,  p.  4o2)  explains  the  p 
heathens  as  well  as  Je«s.  thou;;li 

SM.'.       IS 

nil  hiding  righteous 

'     1    n   it   Hernias 

himself  contemplated  such  an  a|i 

.   >            Ills     The 

example  quoted  by  St.  Peter  app 

example  of  a  far-reaching  law  (.Sf;. 
Origen  seems  to  haveVuLii  th.  1 

.    1   liiii    since  the 

coming  of  Chribt,  the  sn„I       i  n 

III  go  at  once  to 

Paradise  instead  of  Had.  -  i 

.isanuitermediate 

state  {in  Reg.  Bum.  2)      1 

iinst  Celsus  (li.  43), 

to  the  scoff,  'You  will  11.  i 

nst,  when  He  failed 

to  persuade  the  livinK.  ".1  1  .1      > 

1        111. 

s  to  persuade  those 

who  dwell  there?"  he  replits     'Hi 

soul,  St 

ipt  of  the  body,  did 

stript,  that  He  niigrht  there  convert  those  who  ^\ere  capable  of 

instruction,  or  \\ere  otlier«ise  in  ways  known  to  Him  fit  for  it. 

Athanasius  speaks  of  the  warders  at  the  gates  of  Hell  'cower- 

nexion  Mt  275-».  He  tliinks  {da 
Adam  as  held  fast  under  the  sentence  of  death,  and  crying  to 
his  Lord  evermore,  and  of  those  wlio  had  pleased  God,  and  had 
been  justified  by  the  law  of  nature,  as  niourning-  and  crying 
with  him,'  till  God  in  His  mercy  revealed  the  mystery  of  re- 
demption. He  quotes  1  P  319  in  connexion  with 'the  Descent 
{Ep.  ad  Epict.  5). 

The  later  Fathers,  while  they  regarded  Hades  as  a  place  of 
rest  for  the  just,  regarded  Paradise  as  something  better.  Both 
Ambrose  (de  Fide  ad  Gratian.  iv.  1_)  and  Jerome  (Com.  in  Eccles. 
c.  ill.)  followed  Origen  on  this  bne  of  thought.  This  notion 
became  the  germ  of  the  mediseval  doctrine  of  the  Limbus 
Patrum. 

Cyril  of  Jerusalem  (Cat.  i\-.)  classed  the  doctrine  of  the  Descent 
among  the  ten  necess;iry  <h>-iii;t-,  n,' i  ipn;  in-  ii  i-  'i^  ^i^'iied  for 
the  redemption  of  the  in  >         i  -i.^.  'that 

the  living  should  enjoy  ill-     i.  .      .    li  .nl  should 

not  share  in  freedom .' '     It         _  i  i     m      r       ,  !.t  (_xi.lain9 

John  the  Baptist's  qucsti-ii  ■  \m  iIihh  Ii.'  li,..!  -in.uM  come?' 
as  referring  to  the  Descent.  In  this  opinion  lie  was  followed  by 
Rufinus. 

Hilary  of  Poitiers  (on  Ps  llOS^)  speaks  of  the  souls  of  the  faith- 
ful as  knowing,  on  the  witness  of  the  Apostle  Peter,  that  when 


they  rightly  aw.aited,  when  He  c 

dead.' 

Justin  M.iiM    .'I  hi.  /..„/..,„-.■  H- 

/A  ■/',  '  ;./...  Ii     :■')  III  .lis,. s  the 

JCWSOl    .                              I       1    ,     ■.    Ti.MII-    1 

,s. ,,._..  11- .1,  II  III, nil  :  'The 

Lordl^.l                                      :      11:.    .l.ll.l 

thegniM      .■  ii  ii.     .   I.I..I  i.ii.iT.v 

Ireii:..,                       1.         .  l.i.li 

Jereiniiili  . 

Itispr.iliii        .    II    I,,    •  ■  II   .III  ,1 

ii ,..'.'- 

(iv.^4-):,'                                  II.           ... 

SScipi;'', .  1      1  .:.'i.',  1 

pre.acliiii_  ih     ..i   ..'  ■    ... 

1  .|.    :  .1  .      ,                    .    ,11- 

receiv.l                       .....    1,  li 

Terliill ..      1      .....       .1 

the  earth,  that'tiiercTu-  i.Mil.i 

.     Ill      1    h  '„„,i  prnphfts 

sharers  of  HU  lite.' 

We  may  even  claim  the  1..  i 

1    .                .1  witness  to  this 

widespread  tr-idition,  thou  - 1 

i'.iuUv^'ai'id'o^hersfmere 

"•ni":ir..'i  \'" 

ii.-'ii  may  be  dated  possibly 

fromal.i.i  ■    .  . 

'  .wing  passage  :  'They  .see 

thret 11 1. 

nil,  two  of  them  supporting 

theothui,  .. ,,,1,1,1  „„., „  ,., 

„. ;  and  the  head  of  the  two 

1  who  was  led  by  them  over- 

passed  the  heavens.    And  they  he 

rd  a  voice  from  the  heavens 

the  Lord  went  down  into  Ha 

11  i,nd  were  formerly  unbelieving 

eventothose«li..«.i.   m  i 

in  the  days  of  N    i        i    i 

1     1 1 1 1  g  to  add  that  the  Venerable 

Bede  quoted  ili.      . m 
to  condemn  th.  n  ,      .    :  i 

i!  naming  the  author,  in  order 
1  1  iKit  the  Catholic  faith  taught 

only  the  releas.n,  im   n- 

It  was  reserved  for  .\u_ 

.    I..,,,.  .1  1,1  i.i  nii.|.|.,.,.tation  to 

St.  Peter's  words.    In  In- 

teaching,  but  confuses  11  .  i 

1  .                    1  .       .,  „.ad  litt. 

xii.  63,  he  says  that  th.  n 

:..i    I.I  Ii.  .1..^  Iliiilthe  soul 

of  Christ  descended  to  th. 

„i.|||     III.  II    -1, -  .11-...  punished. 

that  He  might  release  fiui 

toniunt  tli.isf   whom    lie,  m  His 

righteous  judgment,  which 
be  loosed. 
In  his  letter  to  Euodius 

s  hidden  from  us,  found  worthy  to 

Bp.  of  Tzala,  on  the  right  inter- 

pretation  of  1   P  319,  .^s   1 

p.    ll„rskv  puts  it.  'ho  perplexes 

l,ilns,;lf    «ill,,|ll,.sti..lis.'       « 

■..  i.,i:    ■■   ii:  li  .  1..I.-II1  iliousands 

^^ll..ll,|.i,ll...|  )..  t..l-|.  III.    . 

.     :                .     :.    .1,  though 

l!r'Jhr'.'.ls'!'.l"'l!    Uh!-,'"i   ' 

■.'.';■  Vi.'.v'';i:;:'^ffi 

lie   accJ'l'.tT'th.""..|.i.'M'... 

i    ii.ised.     He 

■■.    ■>   I   .  .-.  'ii.   ' mill  other 

patriarchs. ''.si':  1         '  i 

II  III.  ..   ..■!....  1  .  1  .      |..  ,,sks,  How 

could  .4brah:iiii 

III               Were  the 

patriarchs  w.u--    .  :.    ::     n    \ 

1    '     .1.         1  ii.i.ill.uk.s'.'    What 

-hnulil  be  done  for 

II     .  .       .1      i      1       1..  ,  ..|. 

II                 Kut  the  idea  that 

:  '      liken  the  appeal  of 

cleared  Hell  of  all  the  souls  that  were  then  m  torment. 

3.  Creeds  and  Articles  of  Religion. — At  the  end 

of  till'  nil  c'nt.,  Tliitiniis,  commenting  on  the  clause 
'  ili.sr.ii.|...l  int..  lull  '  in  I  lie  Creed  of  liis  native  city 
■if  .\.|mlri,'i,  imii'il  Mini  it  \v, -IS  not  contained  in  the 
t  '-iTii  III  thi.  (  hunli  111  Kiiiiie  or  in  Eastern  Creeds. 
This  IS  true  of  Uaptismal  Creeds,  but  not  of  others. 
The  words  had  found  a  place  in  three  confessions 


HELL  (DESCENT  INTO) 


HELL  (DESCENT  INTO)  715 


of  faith  put  forward  by  Arian  Synods  at  Sirmium, 
Nice,  and  Constantinople. 

Sirmium,  Nice,  Constantinople, 


l^fiixy. 


■ikr^-Mra.  ■ 


It  is  interesting  to  compare  also  the  recently 
discovered  '  Faith  of  St.  Jerome,'  which  contains 
the  words  'descended  into  hell,  trod  down  the 
sting  of  death.'  It  has  been  found  by  Doni  G. 
Morin,  O.S.B.,  in  some  four  MSS,  and  is  probably 
the  Confession  of  Faith  which  Jerome  notes  in  one 
of  the  letters  he  had  ilrawn  up  for  Cyril  of  Jeru- 
salem. This  '  Faitli '  contains  elements  which  may 
have  been  drawn  from  his  Haptismal  Creeil  of  Pan- 
nonia.  In  like  manner  it  is  possible  that  the  Sir- 
mium Creed,  quoted  above,  at  this  point  quoted 
the  Baptismal  Creed  of  the  district,  since  Sirmium 
is  in  the  south-east  corner  of  Pannonia.  But  it 
seems  that  the  Creed  was  drawn  up  mainly  by 
Mark,  Bp.  of  Arethusa  in  Palestine ;  and  there 
are  traces  of  the  influence  of  Cyril  of  Jerusalem 
elsewhere  in  this  document.  The  doctrine  was 
one  on  which  he  felt  strongly ;  and,  therefore,  in 
default  of  further  evidence  as  to  tlie  Pannonian 
Creed,  it  is  safer  to  trace  to  his  influence  the 
occurrence  of  the  words  in  the  Creed  of  Sirmium, 
on  which  the  Creeds  of  Nice  and  Constantinople 
are  dependent. 

As  regards  the  interpretation  jiut  on  the  clause 
in  the  Creed  of  Aquileia,  Pearson  is  incorrect  when 
he  suggests  that  Ruhnus  merely  regarded  it  as 
equivalent  to  'buried,'  which  was  omitted.  The 
Creed  certainly  contained  the  word  '  buried,'  and 
Rufinus  was  at  pains  to  show  that  this  word  in 
the  Eastern  Creeds,  as  in  the  Roman,  included  the 
idea  of  a  descent  into  Hades.  Swete  (p.  61)  sug- 
gests that  Ilutinus  had  lost  the  clue  to  the  inter- 
pretation of  the  clause,  and  that  the  addition  was 
made  long  before  his  time,  possibly  to  meet  the 
Docetic  tendency  of  the  latter  part  of  the  2nd 
century.  The  difficulty  about  this  suggestion  is 
that  the  Docetic  apocryphal  Gospel  of  Peter,  as 
we  have  seen,  distinctly  teaches  belief  in  the  de- 
scent. The  present  writer  would  rather  regard 
pseudo-Peter  as  witnessing  to  the  common  belief 
of  the  2nd  cent.,  and  explain  the  addition  in  the 
Aquileian  Creed  as  derived  from  the  ordinary  cate- 
chetical teaching,  of  which  it  may  have  been  as 
'  necessary  a  dogma '  then  in  Aquileia  as  in  Jeru- 
salem in  the  4th  century. 

In  the  time  of  Rutinus  it  might  seem  more 
necessary  to  insist  on  such  teaching  in  view  of  the 
rise  of  the  heresy  of  Apollinaris,  who  denied  that 
the  Lord  had  a  human  soul.  But  Rufinus  himself 
gives  no  hint  of  this.  There  is  more  reason  to 
connect  the  occurrence  of  the  clause  in  the  so-called 
Athanasian  Creed,  now  generally  accepted  as  a 
Galilean  writing  of  the  5th  cent.,  with  opposition 
to  Apollinarianism,  because  the  author  obviously 
had  that  heresy  in  view.  There  is  no  proof,  how- 
ever, that  the  clause  had  yet  passed  into  any 
Galilean  Creed.  By  the  end  of  the  century  we  find 
it  in  the  Creed  oi.  Ccesarius  of  Aries,  and  in  the 
century  following  in  the  Creeds  of  Venantius 
Fortunatus  of  Poitiers  and  of  the  Spanish  Bishop 
Martin  of  Bracara.  Thus  it  passed  into  the  Re- 
ceived Text  of  the  Western  Creed. 

During  the  Middle  Ages  the  idea  of  the  '  Harrow- 
ing of  Heir  was  made  popular  by  the  Gospel  of 
Nicodemus,  and  as  the  theme  of  Mystery  Plays, 
and  at  a  later  time  by  Christian  Art.  Discussion 
seldom  arose.  But  the  opinion  of  Abelard  that 
tlie  soul  of  Christ  entered  the  underworld  only 
virtually  and  not  substantially,  was  condemned  by 


the  Council  of  Sens  (1140)  and  Pope  Innocent  II. 
It  found  favour  with  Durandus  and  Pico  della 
Mirandola,  whose  names  may  suffice  to  show  that 
the  debate  was  not  extinct  in  the  15th  century. 
During  the  Reformation  period,  controversy  began 
to  wax  fierce,  and  was  reflected  in  some  of  the  more 
famoiis  Articles  of  Religion.  In  the  Confession  of 
Auf/sbttrtj  the  bare  fact  of  the  Descent  is  stated, 
but  the  Geneva.  Catcehism  taught  that  the  Descent 
meant  only  the  terrible  anguish  with  which  the 
soul  of  Christ  was  tried.  The  Catechism  of  the 
Church  of  the  Palatinate  explained  that  Christ 
descended  in  order  that   the  Christian  in  all  his 


;yn 

lie  opinion  of  i)rominent  leaders  of  thought. 
Luther,  in  his  Table  Talk  (ccvi.),  spoke  of  the  laying 
of  the  devil  in  chains  as  the  purpose  of  the  Descent. 
His  view  fluctuated,  but  in  his  Com.  on  Hos  6' 
he  wrote  that  Peter  clearly  teaches  that  Christ 
preaclied  to  some  who,  in  the  time  of  Noah,  had 
not  believed,  and  who  waited  for  the  long-suffering 
of  God — that  is,  who  hoped  that  God  would  not 
enter  into  so  strict  a  judgment  with  all  flesh — to 
the  intent  that  they  might  acknowledge  that  their 
sins  were  forgiven  through  tlie  sacrifice  of  Christ. 

It  was  Calvin  (Institut.  ii.  16)  who  taught  the 
revolting  doctrine  that  the  Descent  means  that  in 
His  suffering  on  earth,  in  Gethsemane  and  on  the 
Cross,  Christ  suffered  all  the  horrors  of  hell.  To 
which  Pearson's  words  are  a  sufficient  reply  : 
'  There  is  a  worm  that  never  dietli  which  could 
not  lodge  within  His  breast ;  that  is,  a  remorse  of 
conscience,  seated  in  the  soul,  for  what  that  soul 
hath  done  ;  but  such  a  remorse  of  conscience  could 
not  be  in  Christ.'  Zwingli  [Fidei  chr.  cxjk,  art.  '  de 
Christo,',7)  taught  that  when  Christ  died  thi'  wciglit 
of  His  Redemption  pencil. it imI  In  fin-  rii.l.nvnrld. 

The  Westminster  St.'in.l.-ir.K  iir.in  ir:illy  i-tim-e 
the  question  of  the  Dcmiii(.  i'lir  '.. ,//..,/.;/(  «/" 
Faith  is  wholly  silent,  and  m,  is  th.'  .sA-,/.,-  r„fc. 
chisni.  The  only  allusion  to  the  subject  is  in  tlie 
Larger  Catechism,  where  the  answer  to  Question 
50  runs  :  '  Christ's  humiliation  after  His  death 
consisted  in  His  being  buried,  and  continuing  in 
the  state  of  the  dead,  and  undi-v  the  jiuwerof  death 
till  the  third  day  ;  whirli  li.ilh  Iwii  nlherwisc  ex- 
pressed in  these  words,  lb-  ih  xmnlil  mtn  hell.' 

Bishop  Alley  of  Exeter,  in  a  p.ipi-r  drawn  up  for 
the  Convocation  of  1553  wrote  :  '  There  have  been 
in  my  diocese  great  inveetions  between  the 
preachers.'  He  asked  tint  some  certainty  might 
be  set  concerning  this  doctrine.  Perhaps  this  ex- 
plains the  form  which  was  given  to  the  third  of 
the  Forty-two  Articles  of  1553. 

'As  Clirisfc  died  .ami  was  buried  for  us:  so  also  it  is  to  be 
believed  1 1 1 1 1  TTiwm  ,]<.\mi  into  hell.  For  the  body  lay  in  the 
sepulrhfi   Ml  I  '  1  i  ,  I '  I    til  III ;  but  His  ghost  departing  from 

Him  \\;(>        I,  I  I  were  in  prison  or  in  hell,  and  did 

preach  lit,, i     |, lace  of  St.  Peter  doth  testify.' 

Bishop  Allr\  -  •  ii.i| f  ri'itainty '  was  not  ful- 
filled, uii.l  ill  'i:.t;:;  ihr  lll.jl.cthan  revisers,  with 
rare  wisildin.  ^iimk  .mi  iIp'  1,'tst  clause. 

The  Koiiian  Ciu rrlii.Mu  .-|.i-aksof  the  release  of 
hidy  and  just  men  as  the  imrpose  of  the  Descent, 
of  the  imiiarting  of  the  fruit  of  the  Passion,  and 
of  the  Beatific  Vision. 

4.  Summary  of  the  controversy  in  modern 
times. — We  may  lic^;iii  Ihis  sr,ii,,ii  with  thi>  names 
of  Pearson  anil 'llaiiiiii.iihl.  v\u,  .iLP.'i  in  (inching 
that  the  only  iiir.niiiiL;  .ii  ,"^1,  I',  i .  i  ^  words  was 
that  Christ  by  His  Holy  Spirit  iji.-piiv.!  (he  preach- 
ing of  Noah. 

Hammond  (ad  loc.)  writes:  'The  spirits  in  the 

prison  are  those  souls  of  men  that  lay  so  sheathed, 

so  useless  and  unprofitable  in  their  bodies,   im- 

♦  Cat.  Rom.  95. 


•16    HELL  (DESCENT  INTO) 


HELL  (DESCENT  INTO) 


merged  so  deep  in  calamity  as  not  to  perform  any 
service  to  God,  who  inspired  and  placed  them 
there.'  He  quotes  Is  42'  49'  61'  to  prove  that  else- 
where it  is  '  a  figurative  speech  to  express  wicked 
men.'  '  By  His  Spirit  is  evidently  meant  that 
Divine  power  by  which  He  was  raised  from  the 
dead  after  His  crucifixion. '  We  have  already  noted 
the  objections  to  this  interpretation,  and  also  the 
fact  that  Pearson  on  this  point  confuses  Hades  and 
Gehenna.  He  writes,  indeed,  '  less  lucidly  than  is 
his  Avont,'  but  in  regard  of  the  Descent  regarded 
as  a  fact  Ins  final  summary  strikes  no  uncertain 
note. 

'  I  give  a  full  and  undoubting  assent  unto  this  as  to  a  certain 
truth,  that  when  all  the  sufferings  of  Christ  were  finished  on  the 
Cross,  and  His  soul  was  separated  from  His  body,  thniig^h  His 
body  were  dead,  yet  His  soul  died  not ;  and  Lhnnirh  it  died  not, 
yet  it  underwent  the  condition  of  the  souls  of  suid  a?  die  ;  and 
being  [i.e.  since]  He  died  in  the  similitude  of  a  siiin'r,  His  snul 
went  to  the  place  where  the  souls  of  men  are  kept  wlio  die  for 
their  sins,  and  so  did  wholly  undergo  the  law  of  death." 

Barrow  taught  to  the  same  effect  (Serm.  xxviii.) : 
'  If  we  do  thus  interpret  our  Saviour's  descent  into 
hell,  for  His  soul's  going  into  the  common  receptacle 
and  mansion  of  souls,  we  shall  so  doing  be  sure 
not  substantially  to  mistake.'  He  adds  :  '  I  cannot 
well  be  at  the  pain  to  consider  or  examine  those 
conceits,  which  pretend  to  acquaint  us  why  and  to 
what  eft'ect  our  Saviour  descended  into  hell.'  This 
almost  contemptuous  refusal  to  discuss  the  passages 
in  St.  Peter  is  partly  explained  by  the  gaps  in  the 
line  of  evidence  of  early  Christian  tradition  which 
was  known  at  that  time.  Coming  from  a  man  of 
Barrow"'s  calibre,  it  has  probably  had  great  weight. 

On  the  other  hand,  Jeremy  Taylor,*  while  he 
avoids  any  explanation  of  St.  Peter's  reference  to 
the  Deluge,  maintains  the  Patristic  view  that  Christ 
improved  the  condition  of  holy  souls. 

'  And  then  it  was  that  Christ  made  their  condition  better  ;  for 
though  still  it  be  a  place  of  relation  in  order  to  something 
beyond  it,  yet  the  term  and  object  of  their  hope  is  changed  : 
they  sate  in  the  regions  of  darkness,  expecting  that  great 
promise  made  to  .\dam  and  the  patriarchs,  the  promise  of  the 
Messias;  but  when  He  that  was  promised  came,  He  "preached 
to  the  spirits  in  prison,"  He  conmiunicat^d  to  them  the  mysteries 
of  the  gospel,  the  secrets  of  the  kingdom,  the  things  hidden 
from  eternal  ages,  and  taught  them  to  look  up  to  the  glories 
purchased  by  His  passion,  and  made  the  t€rm  of  their  expecta- 
tion be  His  second  coming,  and  the  objects  of  their  hope  the 
glories  of  the  beatific  \ision.  .  .  .  But  now  it  was  that  in  the  dark 
and  undiscemed  mansions  there  was  a  scene  of  the  greatest 
joy  and  the  greatest  horror  represented,  which  yet  was  known 
since  the  first  falling  of  the  morning  stars.  Those  holy  souls, 
whom  the  prophet  Zechariah  calls  "  prisoners  of  hope,"  lying  in 
the  lake  where  there  is  no  water,  that  is,  no  constant  stream  of 
joy  to  refresh  their  present  condition  (yet  supported  with 
certain  showers  and  gracious  visitations  from  God  and  illumina- 
tions of  their  hope) ;  now  that  they  saw  their  Redeemer  come 
to  change  their  condition,  and  to  improve  it  into  the  neighbour- 
hoods of  glory  and  clearer  revelations,  nmst  needs  have  the  joy 
of  intelligent  and  beatified  understandings,  of  redeemed  cap- 
tives, of  men  forgiven  after  the  sentence  of  death,  of  men 
satisfied  after  a  t«dious  expectation,  enjo^-ing  and  seeing  their 
Lord,  whom,  for  so  many  ages,  they  had  expected.  But  the 
accursed  spirits,  seeing  the  darkness  of  their  prison  shine  with 
a  new  light,  and  their  empire  invaded,  and  their  retirements  of 
horror  discovered,  wondered  how  a  man  durst  venture  thither, 
or,  if  he  were  a  God,  how  he  should  come  to  die.* 

Bishop  Horsley's  sermon  on  1  P  3'"  at  the  enil  of 
the  18th  cent,  is  the  next  important  contribution 
to  the  subject.  He  regretted  the  alteration  of  the 
Third  Article  of  1563.  He  found  it  difficult  to 
believe  that  '  of  the  millions  who  died  in  the  Flood 
all  died  impenitent.'  He  taught  that  Christ  'cer- 
tainly preaclied  neitlier  repentance  nor  faith,  for 
the  preaching  of  either  comes  too  late  for  the 
departed  soul.'  He  faced  the  great  difficulty  why 
only  this  one  class  of  penitents  should  be  mentioned, 
having  'observed  in  some  parts  of  Scripture  an 
anxiety,  if  the  expression  may  be  allowed,  of  the 
sacred  writers  to  convey  distinct  intimations  that 
tlie  antediluvian  race  is  not  uninterested  in  the 
redemption  and  the  final  retribution.'  The  follow- 
ing words  also  deserve  quotation,  for  they  go  to 
*  ed.  Eden,  ii.  718,  720. 


the  root  of  the  matter.  '  If  the  clear  assertions  of 
Holy  Writ  are  to  be  discredited  on  account  of 
difficulties  which  may  seem  to  the  human  mind  to 
arise  out  of  them,  little  will  remain  to  be  believed 
in  revealed  or  even  in  what  is  called  natural 
religion.' 

About  the  same  time.  Dr.  Hey,  Norrisian  Pro- 
fessor at  Cambridge,  gave  in  his  lectures  a  succinct 
account  of  the  history  of  the  doctrine,  and  discussed 
the  difficulty  of  usin^  the  metaphor  of  descent  in 
popular  language  (3rd  ed.  p.  654). 

There  is  an  excellent  survey  of  the  literature  of 
the  subject  do^\^l  to  the  middle  of  the  last  century 
in  Dean  Alford's  Greek  Testament.  Both  he  and 
Bishop  Wordsworth  accepted  the  Patristic  view- 
that  Christ  preached  salvation  to  the  disembodied 
spirits  of  those  drowned  in  the  Flood  if  found 
penitent.  Thus  light  is  thrown  on  'one  of  the 
darkest  enigmas  of  Divine  justice.'  Bishop  Harold 
Browne  expounded  the  Article  to  the  same  effect, 
and  has  been  followed  recently  by  Bishop  Gibson. 
But  not  all  writers  were  equallj'  bold.  Bishop 
Harvey  Goodwin  was  content  with  what  was 
practically  Pearson's  position.  Bishop  Westcott 
{Historic  Faith,  p.  77)  feared  to  say  more  on  '  a 
mystery  where  our  thought  fails  us  and  Scripture 
is  silent.'  Surely  this  is  too  dogmatic  in  face  of 
the  great  consen.sus  of  opinion  which  interprets 
1  P  318  literally. 

There  is  a  full  account  of  modem  German  litera- 
ture on  this  subject  in  Clemen's  Nieclcrgefahreii 
zu  den  Toten.  He  interprets  1  P  3"  as  refeiTing 
to  human  spirits,  and  builds  on  it  an  argument  in 
favour  of  '  the  larger  hope,'  though  he  does  not 
commit  himself  to  any  theory  of  Universal  Resti- 
tution. He  makes  much  use  of  English  books, 
especially  Dean  Plumptre's  The  Spirits  in  Prison. 

This  survey  of  the  whole  course  of  the  controversy 
leads  to  the  conclusion  that  eventually  agreement 
will  be  reached  as  to  the  exegesis  of  the  passage  in 
1  Peter.  The  weighty  authority  of  Professor  Charles 
may  be  invoked  to  prove  that  the  interpretation 
which  accepts  Christ's  mission  to  the  dead  tits  in 
with  our  fuDer  knowledge  of  contemporary  Jewish 
literature.  It  throws  light  on  one  of  the  darkest 
enigmas  of  the  Divine  justice.  At  the  same  time 
full  justice  will  be  done  to  the  early  Christian 
tradition  that  in  some  way  or  other  Christ  benefited 
the  souls  of  the  faithful  oeparted.  But  it  must  be 
admitted  that  the  bare  statement  of  the  Apostles' 
Creed  asserts  only  that  Christ's  soul  passed  into 
the  condition  which  our  souls  will  enter  at  death, 
sanctifying  every  condition  of  human  existence. 
Haniaok  writes  'that  '  the  clause  is  too  weak  to 
niiiiiit.iiii  it-  uiiumd  beside  the  others,  as  equally 
iihl.  |i'imIi  lit  :iiiil  authoritative,'  but,  as  Swete 
(1>.  li-'i  >:i\  >,  lir  hiils  to  point  out  in  what  the  weak- 
ness lies,  «  hile  '  to  US  it  appears  to  possess  in  a 
verj'  high  degree  the  strength  which  comes  from 
primitive  simplicity  and  a  wise  reserve.' 

Thus  the  consensus  of  theological  opinion  justifies 
the  teaching  of  the  poet  of  the  Christian  Year :  * 

'  Sleep'sl  Thou  indeed?  or  is  Thy  spirit  fled 
At  large  among  the  dead  ? 
Whether  in  Eden  bowers  Thy  welcome  voice 
Wake  Abraham  to  rcioico. 


I  lark.  19IW ; 
.  I!.  Swete, 
BURX. 


That,  as  Tli\  l.loo 

uo„,.,rtl,,TOne  agony 

Mights,.,  ,1,..| 

( ;.;,.,.'',„  ,./■  > 

./tide,  Clarl,, 

1854:  Bisho,,|       - 

1S47;  E.   II.    i          1  ■ 

S.D.F.SaliM..    i,'.' 

V.  Spitta,  '  ;,,    ■     / 

.'  .       .'     1.     ,', ,.,  1-1 

'  ■'-  .  -'.'             A 

HELLENISTS 


HEEOD 


717 


HELLENISTS.— See  Grecians. 

HEM  OF  GARMENT.— This  is  the  AV  transla- 
tion of  KpdaTreSop  in  Mt  9'-"  14*'  (of  touohin;^^  the  hem 
of  Jesus'  jjariiient  with  a  view  to  healing).  In 
these  places,  as  on  its  occurrence  elsewhere  (Mt 
23^  Mk  6'«,  Lk  8"),  RV  adopts  the  rendering 
'  border. '    See  art.  Border. 

HEN.— See  Anim.\ls,  p.  64». 

HERB. — In  modern  botanical  science,  'herb'  is 
.a  well-defined  term,  and  is  applied  to  plants  whose 
stem  dies  down  annually.  In  the  Bible  it  is  used 
popular  sense,  being  employed  to  translate 
Hebrew  and  Greek  words  of  varying 
significance.  In  the  NT  it  is  (except  in  He  6', 
where  the  original  has  ^otAi/tj)  the  rendering  of 
\6Lxava  (Mt  13^^  Mk  4^%  Ro  14-)  or  Xd^avoi'  (Lk 
11*^),  which  denotes  garden-herbs  or  vegetables. 
Many  of  these,  such  as  lettuce,  parsley,  mint,  etc., 
are  in  constant  use  to  the  present  day.  Delitzsch 
(Heh.  NT)  renders  this  word  by  p-;;,  which  means 
'green  herbs'  (cf.  Dt  U'",  Pf  15").  The  other 
term,  pordv-q,  means  '  pasture,'  but  is  evidently 
used  (l.c.\oi  herbage  in  general,  including  cereals. 
Delitzseh's  translation  is  ^^k,  'esebh,  which  has 
the  same  signification.  Hugh  Duncan. 

HERMON.— A  mountain  on  the  north-eastern 
border  of  Palestine,  the  culminating  point  of  the 
range  of  Anti-Lebanon,  rising  to  an  elevation  of 
9200  ft.  above  the  sea.  Its  dome-like  summit, 
usually  covered  with  snow  till  late  in  summer,  can 


be  seen  from  almost  every  part  of  Palestine.  Jesus 
in  His  youth  must  have  often  seen  it  from  the  liill 
west  of  Nazareth,  and,  during  His  ministry,  from 
the  Sea  of  Galilee.  It  is  not  mentioned  by  name 
in  the  Gospels,  but  is  generally  believed  to  be  the 
'  high  mountain  '  of  Mt  17',  Mk  9=,  and  the  '  moun- 
tain' of  Lk  9^  where  the  Transfiguration  took 
place.  This  was  probably  not  on  the  summit, 
which  could  be  reached  only  by  long  and  hard 
climbing,  but  on  one  of  the  elevated  platforms  on 
the  southern  slope.  That  Herraon,  rather  than 
Tabor  (on  which  there  was  then  a  fortified  city), 
is  the  '  high  mountain '  referred  to,  seems  clear 
from  the  fact  that  the  conversation  (Mt  le-'"^) 
which  preceded  the  Transfiguration  by  si.v  days 
was  closely  connected  with  Peter's  confession  ;  and 
this  occurred  atC.<esarea  Philippi  (Mt  16'^''"),  which 
stood  just  at  the  base  of  Hermon  by  the  springs  of 
Jordan.    See  also  art.  Transfiguration. 

LlTSBATHRK.— For  description  of  Hermon,  see  Robinson,  BRP 
iii.  344,  357 ;  Stewart,  Land  of  Israel,  296-301 ;  Conder,  Tent- 
Work,  ch.  viii.;  SH'P  (' Jerusalem'  Volume,  Appendix,  and 
Volume  of  Special  Papers).  \V.  W.  MoORE. 

HEROD  CHpySjjs).- The  rise  of  the  Herodian 
dynasty  *  to  the  throne  of  the  Hasmonsan  priest- 
kings,  begun  by  Antipater  the  Idumoean,  and 
realized  by  his  second  son,  Herod  the  Great,t  was 
closely  connected  with  the  ascendency  of  Roman 
power  in  Palestine.  Antipas  or  Antipater,  the 
grandfather  of  Herod,  had  mdeed  been  appointed 
governor  of  Idunu-ea  by  Alexander  Jannsus  (Ant. 
XIV.  i.  3),  but  it  was  not  until  after  the  death  of 
Ale.\andra  (B.C.  67)  that  Antipater,  who  had  suc- 
ceeded his  father  Antipas  in  Idumica,  found  oppor- 
tunity to  advance  his  interests  in  the  dissensions 
between  Hyrcanus,  the  legal  but  weak  heir  to  the 
throne  in  Jerusalem,  and  the  younger  but  more 
vigorous  Aristobulus.     Allying  "himself  with  Hyr- 


de  la  Pal.  164  ;  and  Schiirer,  GJV 

t  On  the  title  i  uiyus  cf.  Ewald,  HI  • 
Coins,  105,  n.  1. 


canus,  Antipater  secured  the  aid  of  the  Arabian 
king  Aretas  to  establish  his  candidate  in  the 
government.  Thereupon  appeals  were  made  by 
Hyrcanus  and  Aristobulus  to  the  Roman  general 
Scaurus,  wlio  had  been  sent  by  Pompey  to  Damas- 
cus. The  Roman  power,  thus  appealed  to,  at  first 
favoured  .\ristobulus,  but  eventually,  after  Pompey 
liad  taken  Jerusalem  in  B.C.  63,  made  Hyrcanus 
high  priest  {Ant.  XIV.  iv.  4  ;  BJ  I.  vii.  6),  and  com- 
mitted the  administration  to  Scaurus,  who  in  turn 
was  succeeded  by  Gabinius.  Antipater,  however, 
proved  himself  useful  to  the  Romans,  both  in  the 
government  and  in  their  military  operations  against 
the  Arabs,  and  also  against  the  Hasraonaians, 
Aristobulus  and  his  sons  Alexander  and  Antigonus. 
He  thus  acquired  considerable  political  influence 
{Ant.  XIV.  vi.  4,  viii.  1  ;  BJl.  viii.  7  ;  cf.  Schiirer, 
GJV^  i.  343,  n.  14).  After  the  battle  of  Pharsalus 
(B.C.  48)  and  the  death  of  Pompey,  Coesar  confirmed 
Hyrcanus  in  the  high  priesthood,  and  made  him 
ethnarch.  Upon  Antipater  he  conferred  Roman 
citizenship  and  constituted  him  procurator  of  Judisa 
{Ant.  XIV.  viii.  3,  .5,  (-n-iTpoiro!  in  the  sense  of  im- 
MeXijTiis;  cf.  Wellhausen,  /,/(?•'  316,  n.  2).  Soon 
afterwards  (B.C.  47)  Antipater  appointed  his  eldest 
son  Phasael  governor  of  Jerusalem,  and  committed 
the  administration  of  Galilee  to  his  second  son 
Herod,  a  young  man  about  twenty-five  years  of  age 
{Ant.  XIV.  ix.  2  ;  the  transmitted  text  reads  rivre 
Kal  84Ka,  but  is  coniecturally  emended  by  Dindorf 
and  Bekker  to  read  tt^j/te  Kal  elVoo-i ;  cf.  Schiirer,  i. 
348,  n.  30  ;  Gratz,  ffist.  77,  reads  '  twenty ').  The 
present  article  is  concerned  only  with  the  Herods 
of  the  Giispels. 

1.  Herod  the  Great. — Among  the  first  acts  of 
Herod's-admiuistiatioii  of  Galilee  was  the  suppres- 
sion of  a  band  of  robbers  *  that  harassed  his  country 
and  parts  of  Syria  {Ant.  XIV.  ix.  2 ;  BJ  l.  x.  5). 
These  he  captured,  and  their  captain,  a  certain 
Hezekias,  he  slew,  along  with  many  of  the  robbers, 
— revealing  in  the  energy  with  which  he  suppressed 
disorders  a  trait  of  character  that  even  at  this  time 
attracted  the  attention  of  the  Roman  governor  of 
Syria,  Sextus  Caisar,  and  that  subsequently  made 
him  an  acceptable  ally  of  the  Romans.  This  act, 
however,  brought  Herod  under  the  suspicion  of  the 
leaders  at  Jerusalem,  who  persuaded  Hyrcanus  that 
Herod  should  be  summoned  before  the  Sanhedrin 
for  trial  for  violation  of  the  national  law  in  putting 
Hezekias  to  death  without  trial.  Herod  obeyed 
the  summons,  but  took  care  to  have  a  sufficient 
bodyguard  to  accompany  him.  At  first  the  mem- 
bers of  the  Sanhedrin  were  overawed  by  such  a 
show  of  force.  They  were  recalled  to  a  proper 
sense  of  their  duty  by  the  courageous  words  of 
scornful  rebuke  s]ioken  by  Sameas  the  Pharisee 
{A)it.  XIV.  ix.  4  :  ISJi.  X.  5).t  When  the  Sanhedrin 
wasaliiiut  In  niiicliiiLn  Herod,  Hyrcanus,  who  had 
received  iii^trm  tii.iis  from  Sextus  Ciesar  to  have 
him  a((|uitted,  adjourned  the  sitting  and  advised 
Herod  to  witlulraw  from  Jerusalem.  This  he  did, 
returning  to  Damascus.  When  he  had  been  ap- 
pointed governor  of  Ccele-Syria  by  Sextus  Caesar,  he 
threatened  Jerusalem  with  an  army  ;  but,  having  so 
far  satisfied  his  anger,  he  withdrew,  on  the  advice 
of  his  father  Antipater  and  his  brother  Phasael. 
After  the  murder  of  Ca'sar  (15  Mar.  B.C.  44),  and 
*  Gratz  (Bist.  7S,  less  distinctl.v,  '  All  true  patriots  mourned  ') 
and  Derenbourg  (IROff.)  ref^ard  these  robbers  as  patriots,  the 
predecessors  of  the  Zealots,  Judas  the  Galihean  \mu'^  the  son  of 
Hezekias  (Ant.  xvii.  x.  r, ;  BJ  ii.  iv.  1  ;  Ac  R-i').  I,  Brojde 
(Jemsh  Encjic  vi.  356)  calls  them  'a  band  of  fanatics,  who  iiad 
attacked  heathen  cities  and  robbed  cara\-ans '  (rf.  also  Well- 

t  Cf.  'Ant.  xv.  i.  1,  where  Pollio  is  said  to  have  made  this 
speech,  and  Sameas  is  called  hia  disciple.  In  Talmudic  tradi- 
tion (cf.  Derenhmii^'.  N7fF.)  Sameas  is  called  Simeon  ben 
Shetah,  identilii.l  K,  I 'r  i .  ni.Mnr.'  with  Shemaia,  who,  with 
Abtalion  (Pollio),  .>         .     i    ,         ,  i  I  hat  time  at  the  head  of  the 

Sjinhedriu  (siiinl, i  //    '     .!i.   and  I.  Rrovd6,  Jewish 

i'ncj/c.  vi.  356  ;  .  1    ..;  i   .:    ;      ,i.  lifiSf.). 


the  poisoning  of  Antipater  (43), — apparently  with 
the  knowledge,  if  not  tlie  consent  and  participation, 
of  Hyrcanus  {Ant.  XTV.  xi.  3,  6 ;  cf.  Wellhausen-', 
319,  n.  1,  327,  n.  3),— Herod's  fortunes  reached  their 
lowest  ebb.  Antony,  indeed,  while  he  was  in  the 
East,  made  Herod  and  Phasael  tetrarchs  (Aiif. 
XIV.  xiii.  1 ;  BJ  I.  xii.  5) ;  but  not  long  afterwards, 
Antigonus,  >\'ith  the  help  of  the  Parthians,  gained 
possession  of  Jerusalem,  capturing  Phasael  and 
Hyrcanus.  Phasael  killed  himself ;  and  Hyrcanus, 
after  his  ears  had  been  cut  off,  was  taken  by  the 
Parthians  to  Babylon.  Herod,  who  with  his  family 
was  in  Jerusalem,  escaped  by  night,  and,  after  manj' 
difficulties,  in  the  midst  of  which  he  was  on  the 
point  of  taking  his  life,  came  to  the  fortress  Masada. 
Here  he  left  his  family  in  charge  of  his  brother 
Joseph  and  hastened  to  Rome.  Antigonus,  in  the 
meantime,  had  established  himself  in  Jerusalem, 
where  he  reigned  for  three  years  (B.C.  40-37)  as 
Matthias,  the  coins  of  Antigonus  bearing  the  in- 
scription BACIAEflC  ANTirONOU  \^=  n-nno 
.T  nan  Hj  (cf.  Madden,  Coins,  99  fi'.). 

In  Rome,  Herod  had  little  difficulty,  with  tlie  aid 
of  Antony  and  the  concurrence  of  Octavius,  in  con- 
\'incing  the  Senate  that  they  would  be  serWng  their 
own  intere.sts  by  making  him  king  of  Judiea  in- 
stead of  Antigonus,  who  had  been  placed  on  the 
throne  by  the  Pa.Tth\a.ns  (Ant.  XIV.  xiv.  4;  BJ 
I.  xiv.  4).  Appointed  king  by  a  decree  of  the 
Senate  (B.C.  40),  Herod  now  had  before  him  the 
difficult  task  of  conquering  his  kingdom.  He  re- 
turned to  Palestine,  raised  an  army,  subdued 
Joppa,  relieved  Masada,  and  was  eager  to  invest 
Jerusalem.  The  assistance  of  the  Roman  forces 
under  Ventidius  and  Silo  was  far  from  effective ; 
Galilee  had  to  be  conquered  ;  it  was  not  until  the 
spring  of  37  B.C.  that  the  siege  of  Jerusalem  could 
be  seriously  begun.  It  was  during  this  siege  that 
Herod,  having  put  away  his  -wife  Doris  and  her 
son  Antipat«r,  celebrated  in  Samaria  his  marriage 
with  Mariamne,*  daughter  of  Alexander  (son  of 
Aristobulus)  and  Alexandra  (daughter  of  Hyr- 
canus) {Ant.  XIV.  XV.  14 ;  BJ  I.  x\'ii.  8 ;  cf.  Ant. 

XIV.  xii.  1  ;  BJl.  xii.  3). 

Three  months  after  the  siege  began,  Jerusalem 
fell  {Ant.  XIV.  xvi.  4 ;  BJ  1.  xviii.  2 ;  cf.  Sieffert, 
PHE'^  vii.  762,  1.  24  fl'.).  The  city  was  saved  from 
plunder  and  desecration  only  by  a  plentiful  use  of 
money  on  Herod's  part.  Antigonus  surrendered 
himself  to  the  Romans  {Ant.  XIV.  xvi.  2;  BJ 
I.  x\nii.  2),  and  at  Herod's  urgent  request  was  be- 
headed in  Antioch  {Ant.  XI v.  xvi.  4  ;  BJ  I.  xviii.  3). 
Herod  also  had  forty-five  members  of  the  San- 
hedrin  slain,  but  passed  over  PoUio  and  Sameas 
because  during  the  siege  they  had  advised  the  city 
to  yield  to  him  {Ant.  XV.  i.  2). 

Established  in  his  kingdom  by  force  of  the 
Roman  arms,  and  occupying  the  status  of  a  rex 
socius,  Herod  fully  understood  that  his  continuance 
in  power  was  dependent  on  the  good-will  of  Rome 
ancl  her  rulers.  Hence,  throughout  his  reign  of 
thirty-four  years,  he  did  not  fail  to  cultivate  in 
every  possible  way  friendly  relations  Anth  his 
overlords.  His  government,  however,  though  not 
without  some  follo>\'ing  among  the  people,  never 
obtained  the  cordial  support  or  willing  consent  of 
the  great  majority  of  its  subjects.  At  the  be- 
ginning of  his  reign  he  treated  the  Sadducfean 
aristocracy  with  severity,  made  the  high  priest- 
hood subject  to  his  own  appointment,  and  deprived 
the  Sanhedrin  of  all  political  influence.  The 
Essenes   and  many  of   the   Pharisees  refused  to 

*  This 
Mapjfltuw^  is  adopted  i 
Niese  (though  Niese  reads  in  th 
The  spelling  Metpiau^ii  is  giver 

XV.  §  207,  but  in  BJ  I.  f:  433  Ma 
consistently  M«pi«.a.i  (except  in 
.as  M  does  in  BJ, 


take  the  oath  of  allegiance  to  him  or  to  the  Ro- 
man emperor.  The  incipient  Zealots  or  patriotic 
nationalists,  whether  gatliered  in  the  robber  bands 
of  Galilee  or  cherishing  more  quietly  the  old  Has- 
mon.'ean  ideals,  were  his  natural  and  determined 
enemies.  Herod,  moreover,  had  no  natural  claims 
to  his  throne.  Of  Idumoean  descent,  he  was  in  the 
eyes  of  his  subjects  but  half-Jew  {Ant.  XIV.  xv.  2), 
and  had  to  endure,  not  only  from  his  enemies  but 
within  the  circle  of  his  own  family,  taunts  upon 
his  low  origin.  Careful  though  he  was  not  to 
oft'end  the  religious  prejudices  of  the  people  in 
some  respects, — for  Herod  was  wiser  and  more 
cautious  than  Antioehus  Epiphanes, — his  whole 
reign  breathed  the  spirit  of  Hellenism  and  pagan 
secularization  so  oti'ensive  to  the  Jews.  Even  his 
self-denying  and  efficient  provision  for  the  country 
when  \asited  by  famine,  or  his  remission  in  part  of 
a  burdensome  taxation,  or  his  magnificent  restora- 
tion of  the  Temple,  called  forth  only  momentary 
gratitude  in  the  hearts  of  the  people.  SuccessfiU 
at  Rome,  unsuccessful  in  Jerusalem,  Herod  greatly 
increased  the  material  interests  of  his  country, 
and  by  the  favour  of  Rome  enlarged  its  borders. 
But  while  he  rebuilt  the  Temple  and  dedicated 
it  with  great  splendour  and  large  sacrifices  — 
boasting  that  he  had  done  what  the  Hasmonaeans 
were  not  able  to  accomplish — he  placed  above  the 
Temple  gate  a  golden  eagle  in  honour  of  the 
Romans,  built  a  theatre,  amphitheatre,  and  hippo- 
drome in  or  near  Jerusalem  for  Greek  plays  and 
heathen  games,  and  in  other  places  erected  temples 
for  the  cult  of  the  emperor  Augustus.  He  built 
or  restored  many  cities  and  fortresses  throughout 
his  territory,  and  constructed  a  splendid  harbour 
{Sebastus)  at  Strato's  Tower,  which  he  enlarged  and 
called  Csesarea.  He  colonized  restless  Trachonitis 
mth  Jewish  warriors  from  Babylon,  and  extended 
his  munificence  far  beyond  the  bounds  of  his  own 
country,  to  Syria,  Asia  Minor,  Rhodes,  Greece, 
and  Macedonia.  Antony,  Cleopatra,  Agrippa,  and 
Augustus  were  entertained  by  him  with  royal 
honours,  and  in  his  will  he  made  handsome  "be- 
quests to  his  friends  of  the  imperial  household  in 
Rome. 

It  is  customary  to  diWde  the  reign  of  Herod  into 
three  periods.  The  first  extends  from  his  accession 
in  B.C.  37  to  the  death  of  the  sons  of  Babas  in 
B.C.  25,  when  the  last  male  representatives  of  the 
Hasmonsean  family  were  removed  from  his  path- 
way. This  period  was  characterized  by  the  estab- 
lishment and  extension  of  Herod's  power.  The 
principal  forces  that  he  had  to  combat  came  from 
the  royal  family  he  had  supplanted  and  to  wliich 
he  was  allied  by  marriage.  Alexandra,  the  mother 
of  Mariamne,  knew  how  to  enlist  the  interest  of 
Cleopatra,  and  Cleopatra  had  the  ear  of  Antony. 
The  measures  adopted  by  Herod  to  meet  the  situa- 
tion were  not  of  the  gentlest  kind.  He  recalled 
Hyrcanus  fidm  r.aliylon,  and  though  he  treated 
him  with  (M'lv  • 'Oi-iiliiution,  Josephus  attributes 
to  Herod  tin  lmlti^,  ,  i  w  ishing  to  get  Hyrcanus  in 
his  power.*  In  \  icw  i>f  the  fact  that  Hyrcanus 
could  not  be  appointed  to  the  high  priesthood,  and 
that  Aristobulus,  the  brother  of  Mariamne,  was 
only  about  seventeen  years  of  age,  Herod  made 
Ananel,  a  Babylonian  Jew  of  priestly  family,  high 
priest.  This  did  not  please  Alexandra,  and  she 
appealed  to  Cleopatra  on  behalf  of  her  son.  There- 
upon Herod  deposed  Ananel  and  appointed  Aristo- 
bulus in  his  stead.  But  the  popularity  of  the  young 
Hasmonsean  aroused  Herod  s  suspicion,  and  Aristo- 
bulus was  drowned  soon  after  the  feast  of  Taber- 

•  Mathews  (Hist,  of  XT  Tiims,  118,  n.  1)  rejects  Josephus' 
account  of  Herod's  motive  (cf.  also  SchiirerS,  i.  378 ;  Wellhausen'', 
3'24  ;  and  Woodhouse,  Encj/c.  Bibl.  ii.  2206,  n.  i).  On  the  other 
hand,  cf.  Sieffert,  PRE^  \-ii.  762,  1.  48ff.,  and  the  indications 
given  above  that  Hj'rcanus  was  implicated  in  the  death  of 
Antipater. 


HEKOD 


HEROD 


719 


naeles  in  the  jear  B.C.  35.  At  the  instance  of 
Cleopatra,  who  learned  of  the  event  from  Alex- 
andra, Herod  was  summoned  before  Antony  to  give 
an  account  of  the  death  of  Aristobulus.  Before 
answering  the  summons,  Herod  gave  instructions 
to  his  uncle  Joseph,  in  whose  hands  he  left  the 
government,  that  Mariamne  should  be  put  to 
death  in  the  event  of  an  unfavourable  issue  of  his 
mission.  Herod  regained  the  favour  of  Antony, 
but  had  e\fiitu:ilIy"to  surrender  to  Cleopatra  one 
of  tin-  iiiosi  Iruil'fnl  |iarts  of  his  territory,  the 
faniims  \ki\iu-  :uiiI  lialsiun-growing  country  about 
.Jericho,  toi^othm-  with  the  coast  cities  from  the 
river  Eleutherus  to  Egypt,  with  the  exception  of 
Tyre  and  Sidon.  On  his  return  from  the  confer- 
ence ^vith  Antony  at  Laodicsea  (Syrian),  Herod 
learned  through  his  sister  Salome,  the  evil  genius 
of  his  family  troubles,  that  Joseph  had  revealed 
his  command  to  Mariamne.  Joseph  was  put  to 
death,  but  a  fruitful  soil  for  siispicion  against 
Mariamne  remained.     When  Cleopatra,  who  had 


and,  although  he  successfully  withstood  her  charms, 
he  was  compelled  to  rent  from  her  the  territory 
about  Jericho,  and  to  guarantee  similar  payments 
due  to  her  from  the  king  of  Arabia.  The  debt  thus 
contracted  proved  to  be  a  bad  one,  for  the  king  of 
Arabia  was  slow  in  meeting  his  financial  obliga- 
tions. Hence,  when  war  broke  out  between 
Antony  and  Ootavius,  and  Herod  was  desirous  of 
giving  aid  to  Antony,  Cleopatra,  never  doubting 
that  Antony  would  be  victor,  thwarted  Herod's 
purpose  and  sent  him  instead  against  the  Arabians, 
in  the  hope  that  the  two  kings  would  destroy  one 
another.  Herod  at  first  defeated  the  Arabians, 
but  finally  suffered  a  severe  reverse,  through  the 
treacherous  intervention  of  Cleopatra's  general 
Athenio.  About  this  time  an  earthquake  brought 
great  suffering  on  the  people,  and  Herod's  soldiers 
were  discouraged.  The  Je\vish  ambassadors  sent 
to  the  Arabians  had  been  slain,  and  Herod's  con- 
dition seemed  desperate.  His  own  courage,  how- 
ever, inspired  his  troops,  and  a  decisive  victory 
was  gained  over  the  enemy. 

But  Herod  had  scarcely  re-established  his  power 
when  news  of  the  battle  of  Actium  (2nd  Sept. 
B.C.  31)  brought  him  face  to  face  with  the  crisis  of 
his  reign.  Before  going  to  Octavius  to  learn  his 
fate,  Herod  had  the  aged  Hyrcanus  put  to  death 
for  plotting  with  the  Arabian  governor  Malchus  to 
escape  from  Jerusalem.*  Placing  the  government 
in  charge  of  his  brother  Pheroras,  and  leaving  his 
mother  and  sister  at  Masada,  but  Mariamne  and 
Alexandra  at  Alexandrinum  in  care  of  Sohemus, 
with  instructions  tliat  Maiiaiimo  and  her  mother 
should  be  killed  if  .li^;i-(rr  ..\.  rdiok  him,t  Herod 
went  to  meet  Oct.niu-  m  I;Im.,|cs.  He  appeared 
before  the  emperor  ill  i..\:i,l  npiMivl,  laying  asideonly 
his  diadem.  His  apjit-al  iui  iavuur  was  based  on  a 
frank  avowal  of  his  friendship  for  Antony,  and  of 
his  desire  to  aid  him  at  Actium.  But  Antony 
had  refused  to  take  his  advice  about  Cleopatra, 
and  had  fallen.  He  now  offered  Octavius  the  same 
loyalty  and  support  that  he  had  given  Antony. 
Mioreover,  Herod  had  already  had  opportunity  of 
proving  his  loyalty  to  his  new  master  by  preventing 


that  Herod  sought 
(i.  384)  questions  Josephus'  account  of  the'treasonable  letter,  on 
the  ground  that  such  an  action  would  be  unlikely  in  a  man  of 
Hyrcanus'  age.  He  accepts  the  account  of  Herod's  nioti\e  in 
this  instance,  however,  regarding  it  as  a  more  probable  and  a 
safflcient  explanation  of  Hyrcanus'  death  (ct.  also  Mathews,  120, 
II.  3.  On  the  participation  of  the  Sanhedrin,  cf.  Ant.  xv.  xvi.  2, 
and  Wellhausen,  327,  n.  1). 

t  On  the  historicity  of  the  two  incidents  related  in  Ant.  xv. 
iii.  5-6.  9  ;  B-f  i.  xxii.  4,  6  ;  Ant.  xv.  vi.  6,  vii.  1-6, 
i.  385,  n.  61 ;  Mathews,  130,  n.  4. 


Antony's  gladiators  from  passing  through  his  terri- 
tory to  join  Antony  in  Egypt.  At  the  close  of  the 
interview  Octavius  restored  Herod's  diadem,  and 
confirmed  him  in  his  kingdom.  In  a  short  time 
Octavius  even  enlarged  Herod's  kingdom,  restoring 
the  territory  taken  from  it  by  Antony  for  Cleo- 
patra, and  a  number  of  cities,  such  as  Gadara, 
Hippos,  Samaria,  Gaza,  Anthedon,  Joppa,  and 
Strato's  Tower.  This  was  done  in  recognition  of 
Herod's  aid  to  the  imperial  army  as  it  passed  into 
Egypt. 

When  Herod  returned  from  Rhodes,  his  old 
suspicions  against  Mariamne  were  aroused  by  dis- 
covering that  Sohemus  had  repeated  the  folly  of 
Joseph.  Sohemus  was  executed,  and  soon  after- 
wards Mariamne  was  tried  on  the  charge  of 
attempting  to  poison  Herod,  and  put  to  death 
about  the  year  B.C.  29.  But  Herod  had  loved  her 
with  a  wild  passion.  After  her  death  his  remorse 
and  an  uncontrollable  yearning  for  her  (which 
Byron  has  finely  expressed  in  one  of  his  Hebrew 
Melodies)  quickly  brought  him  to  the  verge  of 
insanity  (cf.  also  Stephen  Phillips,  Herod).  At 
length,  when  he  fell  sick  in  Samaria,  Alexandra 
sought  to  gain  possession  of  the  fortresses  in  Jeru- 
salem. But  Herod,  rousing  himself  from  his 
stupor,  had  her  put  to  death  (B.C.  28).  Costobar 
also  and  the  sons  of  Babas  were  put  to  death  on 
the  evidence  of  Salome,  who  revealed  the  hiding- 
place  of  these  men  of  Hasmonoean  descent*  and 
partizanship,  and  the  part  played  by  her  husband 
in  their  protection  (B.C.  25).  Herod  was  now  well 
established  on  his  throne,  in  favour  with  Augustus, 
and  triumphant  over  his  enemies. 

The  second  period  of  Herod's  reign,  extending 
from  B.C.  25  to  B.C.  13,  was  characterized  by  ex- 
tension of  his  kingdom  and  great  building  opera- 
tions. Trachonitis,  Batansea,  and  Auranitis  were 
given  to  him  by  Augustus  about  B.C.  23  (Ant.  xv. 
X.  1 ;  BJ  I.  XX.  4),  and  to  these  the  tetrarchy  of 
Zenodorus  together  with  the  country  of  Ulatha  and 
Panias  was  added  about  three  years  later  {Ant. 
XV.  X.  3;  BJ  1.  XX.  4 ;  Dio  Cass.  xlv.  9).  During 
this  period  many  cities  were  built  or  beautified  by 
Herod,  both  in  "his  own  territory  and  in  surround- 
ing countries.  Fortresses  were  constructed,  and 
temples  in  honour  of  Augustus  adorned  Samaria 
(Sebaste),  Panias  (Csesarea  Philippi),  and  Strato's 
Tower  (Coesarea).  But  the  greatest  of  Herod's 
works  of  construction  were  the  harbour  at  Strato's 
Tower  and  the  Temple  at  Jerusalem.  The  latter, 
begun  about  B.C.  19,  was  partially  completed  in  a 
year  and  a  half  (the  inner  temple),  and  the  whole 
brought  to  a  temporary  completion  in  about  eight 
years,  when  it  was  formally  dedicated,  although 
work  was  continued  on  it  until  the  time  of  Albinus 
(procurator  A.D.  62-64,  cf.  Avf.  xv.  xi.  5,  6,  XX.  ix. 
7  ;  Jn  22").  Herod  also  built  himself  a  magnificent 
palace  in  Jerusalem.  Theatre,  amphitheatre,  and 
hippodrome  were  the  scenes  of  plays  and  games 
not  only  in  Ca?sarea  and  Jericho,  but  in  Jerusalem. 
Mercenary  tioops,  aided  by  .spies  and  strict  police 
regulations,  kept  the  people  in  subjection.  Out- 
lying districts  such  as  Trachonitis  were  colonized 
to  suppress  disturbances.  Herod's  power  was  at 
its  height.  In  his  court  were  men  of  Greek  learn- 
ing, such  as  Nicolaus  of  Damascus  and  his  brother 
Ptolemy.  As  a  rex  socius,  Herod  had  the  right  to 
issue  copper  coinage.  His  friendship  \vith  Rome 
was  firmly  established.  He  interested  himself  in 
the  Jews  of  the  Dispersion,  and  helped  to  secure 
them  their  rights  in  Asia  Minor.  He  also  made 
generous  provision  from  his  private  means  to  alle- 

*  Just  what  their  descent  was  does  not  clearly  appear  from 
Josephus.  They  seem  to  have  been  related  to  the  Hasmona^ans. 
They  were  to  have  been  killed  when  Herod  took  Jerusalem. 
But  Costobar  saved  them,  and  had  kept  them  concealed  until 
Salome,  his  wife,  left  him,  and  made  the  matter  known  to 


720 


HEKOD 


HEROD 


viate  the  suffering  caused  bj-  a  famine  (B.C.  25), 
and  on  two  occasions  remitted  part  of  the  peoples 
taxes,  one-third  in  B.C.  20  and  one-fourth  in  B.C.  14. 
But  the  glory  of  his  reign  and  the  material  splen- 
dour of  his  works  were  offensive  to  the  relij 
consciousness  of  his  subjects,  and  Ids  sporadic 


of  unselfishness  failed  to  afoase  any  permanently 

people. 

The  last  period  of  Herod's  reign,  from  B.C.  13  to 


cordial  response  in  the  peop 


B.C.  4,  was  one  of  familj;  intrigue  which  formed,  as 
Wellhausen  aptly  puts  it,  '  a  chapter  of  court  liis- 
tory  in  true  Oriental  style.'  After  the  death  of 
Mariamne,  Herod  had  married  another  Mariamne, 
daughter  of  a  certain  Simon,  a  priest  whom  Herod 
liad  made  higli  priest.  He  had  also  other  A\-ives, 
seven  in  number.  His  first  wife  had  been  recalled 
to  court.  His  sister  Salome  and  Iiis  mother  Cypros 
had  already  shown  some  ability  in  the  gentle  art  of 
false  suggestion.  Herod's  brother  Pheroras,  whom 
he  had  made  tetrarch  of  Periea  and  Idumtea,  was 
at  hand  with  his  wife.  There  were  present  also 
the  two  heirs  to  the  throne,  Alexander  and  Aristo- 
bulus,  sons  of  Mariamne  I.,  both  proud  of  their 
Hasmontean  descent,  possibly  a  little  haughty  in 
their  manner,  certainly  a  little  unwise  in  their  con- 
fidential conversations ;  having  a  grievance  in  the 
unjust  death  of  their  mother,  but  no  protection 
against  its  misuse  by  their  enemies  ;  holding  their 
mother's  opinion  of  Herod's  kindred, — an  opinion 
shared  by  Glaphyra,  wife  of  Aristobulus  and 
daughter  of  Archelaus,  king  of  Cappadocia,  and 
fully  reciprocated  in  kind  by  Salome  and  Cypros. 
If  to  this  we  add  the  villainy  of  a  scoundrel  like 
Euryclus,  the  presence  of  Antipater,  Herod's  eldest 
son,  recalled  to  court  for  the  purpose  of  checking 
presumptuous  hopes  of  succession  on  the  part  of 
Alexander  and  Aristobulus  ;  and,  finally,  the  sus- 
picious nature  of  Herod,  now  made  more  so  by  age, 
and  the  use  of  an  absolute  power  over  the  lives  of 
liis  subjects  to  extort  evidence  by  torture, — under 
such  conditions  as  these,  '  where  many  things  were 
done  and  more  were  believed  and  repeated,'  intrigue 
could  hardly  fail  to  ripen  into  tragedy. 

Soon  after  the  return  of  Alexander  and  Aristo- 
bulus from  Rome,  where  they  had  been  educated, 
they  were  suspected  of  plotting  vengeance  on  Herod 
for  "their  mother's  death,  and  of  entertaining  prema- 
ture hopes  of  succession  to  the  throne.  Herod 
himself  preferred  charges  against  them  before  the 
Emperor  at  Aquileia,  out  Augustus  succeeded  in 
effecting  a  temporary  reconciliation.  Subsequently 
Alexander  was  arrested,  but  released  tlirough  the 
influence  of  Archelaus.  Gradually,  however,  the 
meshes  of  intrigue  closed  around  the  Hasmonjean 
brothers.  Permission  was  obtained  from  AugiLStus 
to  bring  them  to  trial,  but  the  Emperor's  sugges- 
tions about  the  constitution  of  the  court  were  not 
strictly  adhered  to.  Herod  himself  appeared  as  a 
witness  against  his  sons,  and  the  court  condemned 
them  by  a  majority  vote,  Satuminus  and  his  sons 
dissenting.  They  were  strangled  at  Sebaste  (Sa- 
maria), and  buried  at  Alexandrinum  about  the  year 
B.  C.  7.  Finally,  on  the  death  of  his  brother  Pheroras, 
Herod  discovered  that  Antipater,  who  had  gone  to 
Rome  bearing  the  will  of  his  father,  which  named 
him  as  successor  to  the  throne,  was  himself  impli- 
cated in  a  patricidal  plot.  Thereupon  Herod  wTote 
to  Antipater,  urging  ^^■ith  great  solicitude  and 
paternal  affection  his  speedy  return.  On  arriving 
in  Jerusalem,  Antipater  was  brought  to  trial  before 
Varus,  Nicolaus  of  Damascus  appearing  to  prose- 
cute the  case  for  Herod.  And  when  Antipater 
failed  to  clear  himself,  he  was  cast  into  prison, 
while  Herod  awaited  permission  from  Augustus  to 
put  him  to  death. 

Herod  was  now  grown  old 
tution,  naturally  powerful  and  ro" 
give  way.     The" hot  baths  of  Callirhoe  gave  little 


physical 
jbust,   bej 


consti- 


or  no  relief  to  his  disorders.  It  soon  became  known 
that  he  was  suffering  from  an  incurable  disease, 
and  the  signs  of  popular  rejoicing  only  embittered 
the  last  hours  of  his  despotic  reign.  The  stirring 
of  his  anger,  as  on  a  former  occasion,  seemed  to 
rouse  his  waning  energy.  When  the  disciples  of 
two  popular  teachers  of  the  Law  in  Jerusalem, 
Judas  and  Matthias,  cut  do\\-n  the  golden  eagle 
from  the  gate  of  the  Temple,  Herod  promptly 
returned,  and  had  forty-two  of  the  participants, 
including  their  teachers,  burned  to  death.  His 
sufferings  now  became  more  intense.  A  bath  in 
warm  oil  ordered  by  his  physicians  almost  killed 
him,  and  in  a  tit  of  despair  he  even  attempted  to 
take  his  own  life.  Josephus  also  reports  that  he 
gave  orders  that  at  the  moment  of  his  death  all  the 
principal  men  of  the  country,  whom  he  had  gathered 
in  the  hippodrome  at  Jericho,  should  be  put  to 
death,  in  order  that  the  people  might  have  cause  to 
sorrow  at  his  departure.  But  this  order  was  never 
carried  out  (ef.  Wellhausen*,  345,  n.  2).  The  im- 
prisoned Antipater  about  this  time,  thinkin"  that 
his  father  was  dead,  sought  to  escape  ;  but  Herod, 
learning  of  it,  and  ha\-ing  just  received  authority 
for  his  execution  from  Rome,  gave  the  order  for  his 
death.  On  the  fifth  day  after  the  death  of  Anti- 
pater, Herod  died  at  Jericho,  in  March  or  April  of 
the  year  B.C.  4,  being  about  seventy  years  of  age, 
and  having  reigned  thirty-seven  years  since  his 
appointment  bj  the  Roman  Senate  and  thirty-four 
since  the  taking  of  Jerusalem.  His  body  was 
carried  to  Herodium,  and  interred  with  military 
honours. 

Herod  had  received  from  Augustus  at  Aquileia 
the  right  to  dispose  of  his  kingdom  as  he  willed, 
and  apparently  at  that  time  contemplated  abdica- 
tion in  favour  of  his  sons,  but  was  restrained  by 
the  Emperor  {Ant.  XVI.  iv.  5).  When  he  returned 
to  Jerusalem,  he  made  public  announcement  of  his 
intention  that  the  succession  should  go  to  Antipater 
first,  and  then  to  Alexander  and  Aristobulus.  Be- 
fore his  death  he  made  three  ■n'ills.  In  the  first, 
made  about  B.C.  6,  Antipater  was  named  to  suc- 
ceed to  the  throne,  or,  in  case  of  his  death,  Herod 
(Philip)  the  son  of  Mariamne  the  high  priest's 
daughter  {Ant.  XVII.  iii.  2 ;  BJ  I.  xxix.  2).  In 
the  second,  made  after  the  treachery  of  Antipater 
had  been  discovered,  Antipas  was  named  as  his 
heir  {Ant.  XVII.  vi.  1  ;  BJ  I.  xxxii.  7).  In  the 
third,  made  shortly  before  his  death,  Archelaus 
was  appointed  to  succeed  to  Judiea  and  Samaria, 
with  the  title  of  king  ;  Antipas  was  given  Peraea, 
with  the  title  of  tetrarch ;  and  Pliilip,  with  a 
similar  title,  received  Trachonitis,  Auranitis,  and 
Batana?a  {Ant.  xvil.  \'iii.  1  :  BJ  i.  xxxiii.  7). 

Although  Josephus  gives  a  very  detailed  account 
of  Herod's  reign,  depending  to  a  far  greater  extent 
on  Nicolaus  of  Damascus  than  his  occasional  cita- 
tions would  indicate  (cf.  Schlirer',  i.  82  ff.),  it  is 
not  historically  probable  that  he  has  recorded  everj- 
incident  found  in  his  sources,  much  less  every  in- 
cident that  occurred  during  this  period.  For,  while 
liis  representation  has  in  its  main  features  and 
even  in  most  of  its  details  the  'appearance  of  a 
faithful  and  tru.stworthy  narrative,  it  is  not  un- 
likely that  he  has  misunderstood  or  misrepresented 
some  movements,  such  as  the  character  of  the  rob- 
bers in  Galilee  ;  others  he  has  neglected  for  some 
reason,  such  as  the  Messianic  ideas  of  the  time, 
and  their  popular  influence  witnessed  by  the  Psalms 
of  Solomon  and  the  NT  (cf.  Mt  2'<'-;  and  Mathews, 
Hist.  126,  The  Messianic  Hope  in  the  NT,  ]3ff.). 
It  is  possible  also  tliat  Josephus  misropresented 
some  details  of  the  history  through  misunder- 
standing his  sources,  such,  for  example,  as  the 
day  of  the  fall  of  Jerusalem,  or,  again,  assigned 
wrong  motives  for  actions,  and  even  narrated  as 
fact  what  did  not  happen.     There  are  some  de- 


I 


heeod 


scriptions  of  different  events  which  reveal  striking 
similarities,  and  there  are  some  apparent  inconsist- 
encies. The  narrative  in  BJ  is  closely  parallel 
with  that  in  Ant.,  but  in  some  instances  the  one 
contains  what  the  other  omits.  However  highly, 
therefore,  we  may  estimate  the  trustworthiness  of 
Josephus  as  an  historian,  his  silence  can  be  used  as 
an  argument  against  the  historicity  of  an  event, 
otherwise  attested,  only  in  case  it  can  be  shown  that 
Josephus  or  liis  source  could  not  Iiave  been  in  ignor- 
ance of  the  event,  and  would  have  had  good  reason 
to  mention  it  had  it  occurred,  and  no  good  reason 
for  omitting  it  if  known.  But  even  should  this  be 
established,  the  argument  from  silence  would  have 
only  secondary  value  in  confirming  a  negative 
judgment,  since  any  judgment  in  such  a  case  must 
depend  primarily  upon  tlie  character  of  the  source 
in  which  the  event  is  recorded. 

Both  St.  Matthew  and  St.  Luke  assign  the  birth 
of  Jesus  to  a  time  shortly  before  the  death  of 
Herod  (Mt  2"f-,  Lk  F- »•  ^^  i'T-)-  This  event, 
although  not  mentioned  liy  Josephus,  could  not 
have  taken  place  later  than  the  spring  of  B.C.  4. 
St.  Luke,  indeed,  brings  the  event  more  directly 
into  connexion  with  the  emperor  Augustus  by  men- 
tioning the  imperial  decree  of  enrolment,  which 
caused  the  journey  of  Joseph  and  Mary  from 
Nazareth  to  Bethlehem.  St.  Matthew,  on  the 
other  hand,  by  narrating  the  visit  of  the  Wise 
Men  from  the  East  (iiiiyoi.  dirb  dvaToKQn,  Mt  2'), 
gives  us  a  glimpse  of  Jerusalem  and  Herod  won- 
derfully true  to  the  historical  and  psychological 
probabilities  that  may  be  inferred  from  Josephus 
and  other  sources.     The  arrival  of  the  Magi  in 


Jerusalem,  the  form  of  their  question  revealing 
the  fact  that  they  were  not  Jews,  the  Messianic 
significance  of  their  question  and  its  appreciation 
by  the  people  and  by  Herod,  the  consequent  effect 
on  the  city  and  on  the  king,  Herod's  questioning 
of  the  scribes  where  the  Christ,  i.e.  the  Messiah, 
should  be  born,  the  answer  according  well  not  only 
with  OT  prophecy,  but  with  the  Messianic  ideas 
of  the  time  (cf.  ^ahn,  Matth.  94,  n.  86  ;  Bousset, 
Religion  dcs  Jud.  214),  and,  finally,  the  character 
of  Herod,  suspicious,  dissimulating,  treaclierous,— 
the  whole  description  vividly  reflects  the  historical 
conditions  of  the  closing  years  of  Herod's  reign. 
The  local  colouring  betrays  no  false  touch.  The 
ideas  and  scenes  are  appropriate  to  the  times,  and 
the  character  of  Herod  is  quite  his  own.  When 
St.  Matthew  tells  us  that  Herod  in  his  an^er  at 
being  deceived  by  the  Magi  slew  all  the  children 
of  two  years  and  under  in  Bethlehem  and  its 
borders,  we  still  recognize  perfectly  the  man  whose 
closing  years  were  tilled  with  passion  and  blood- 
shed, josephus,  indeed,  does  not  mention  the  in- 
cident. What  he  does  narrate  of  Herod,  however, 
bears  indirect  testimony  to  a  fact  so  entirely  con- 
sistent with  Herod's  character.  If  the  fact  there- 
fore be  denied,  the  denial  will  rest  on  subjective 
rather  than  historical  grounds. 


i  how,  in  a  passion,  he  ordered 
1  Bethlehem  and  the  sur- 
_ .      ,  had  heard  that 

ise  of  David  Iiad  been  bor 
But  Herod,  criminal  as  he  was,  was  innocent  of  this  crime.' 
Similarly  I.  Broydi  (Jewish  Enajc.  vi.  360),  who,  however, 
makes  appeal  to  the  fact  that  '  the  massacre  of  the  Innocents  as 
related  in  the  NT  is  now  generally  admitted  by  independent 
Christian  thinkers  to  be  legendary.'  For  this  opinion,  however, 
no  historical  evidence  is  advanced.  The  asserted  legendary 
character  of  St.  Matthew's*  narrative  and  its  later  date,  even 
when  strengthened  by  appeal  to  independent  Christian  thinkers, 
is  only  subjective  and  dogniatical.  In  the  latter  case,  indeed 
(cf.  Holtzniann,  Handcom.^  41),  the  attempt  is  made  to  (ground 
such  a  judgment  historically  by  comparing  .Mt.  and  Lk.,  and 
inferring  from  their  differences  the  untrustworthy  character  of 
each.  The  fundamental  objection  to  the  historifity  of  the 
Gospel  narratives  is,  however,  not  so  much  the  differences  be- 
tween them,  which  simply  prove  their  relative  independence,  as 
VOL.  I.— 46 


the  supernatural  facts  which  they  record,  and  in  particular,  in 
this  part  of  St.  Matthew's  narrative,  the  star  of  the  Magi.  Dr. 
Zahn  (Matth.  08  f.)  has  suggested  an  interpretation  of  this 
a  purely  natural  occurrence,  described,  how- 
not  in  terms  of  scientific  precision  but  in  popular  lan- 


the  historicity  of  the  narrative  could  be  denied,  and  the  narra- 
tive itself  justly  described  as  legendary,  only  on  principles  of 
interpretation  whose  '  independei —  ' ' " *  +i.«;«  .j..«.,r,H_ 


For  an  account  of  Herod's  son  Archelaus  see 
Archelaus. 

2.  Antipas. — The  second  son  of  Herod  and  Mai- 
thake,  the  full  brother  of  Archelaus,  is  called  by 
Josephus  'AvH-n-as  {Ant.  XVII.  vii.  1)  or  'HpySTjs 
(XVIII.  ii.  1).  In  the  NT  and  on  the  coins  only  the 
name  'Hp^dtj^  appears.  Under  his  father's  last 
will,  as  ratified  by  Augustus,  Antipas  received 
Perrea  and  Galilee,  with  the  title  Terpaipxt^  (see 
TetkaeCH).  He  is  commonly  designated  by  this 
title  in  the  NT,  although  the  popular  6  ^aaCKiv^ 
occurs  in  Mk  G"*-,  Mt  14". 

We  know  little  concerning  the  events  of  Antipas' 
long  reign  (B.C.  4-A.D.  39).  The  narrative  given 
by  Josephus  is  very  meagre  after  the  death  of 
Herod  the  Great.*  Having  little  to  tell_  of  Arche- 
laus, Josephus  introduced  very  interesting  digres- 
sions about  the  Pharisees,  Sadducees,  Zealots,  and 
Essenes  (Ant.  xviil.  i.-vi.  ;  BJu.  viii.  1-14).  But, 
having  eq^ually  little  to  tell  of  Antipas,  he  filled  in 
his  narrative  in  ^?i<.  with  an  account  of  thePartliians 
and  their  relations  with  Rome  — with  wliicli,  in- 
deed, Antijjas  was  incidentally  connected  (cf.  Ant. 
xvill.  ii.  4,  iv.  4  ;  Schiirer^,  i.  447).  We  learn  from 
Josephus,  however,  that  Antipas  rebuilt  and  strongly 
fortified  Sepphoris  and  Betharamphtha  for  the  pro- 
tection of  Galilee  and  Persea.  He  also  built  and 
colonized  Tiberias  on  the  Sea  of  Galilee.  On  one 
occasion,  when  in  Rome  at  the  house  of  his  brother 
Herod  Philip  (Ant.  XVIll.  v.  1 ;  cf.  Mk  6"),  son  of 
Mariamne  the  high  priest's  daughter,  Antipas 
secured  the  consent  of  Herodias,  his  brother's  wife, 
to  leave  her  husband  and  marry  him,  on  condition 
that  he  put  away  his  own  wife,  the  daughter  of 
Aretas,  king  of  the  Nabatseans.  When  Antipas 
returned,  his  wife,  who  had  learned  of  his  under- 
standing with  Herodias,  asked  permission  to  go  to 
Macha;rus,  a  fortress  near  the  border  of  her  father's 
territory.  Without  suspecting  her  purpose,  Antipas 
granted' lici  ir,|ucst;  but  sliu  coiitinucd  lier  journey 
to  Arii).i;i.  ,■111.1  niliuhtcii.'a  li.r  l.illifr  concerning 
the  dutiful  iiilciiUnii^  ,u'  lii>  s..ii  in  \n\\.  Because 
of  this  iiii.l  .■crtain  licuii.l.-iry  .lisi,utc>,  cmiiity  arose 
between  Aretas  and  Antipas,  which  eventually 
issued  in  war,  and  a  crushing  defeat  for  Antipas. 


and  thus  naturally  disposed  to  make  haste  slowl; 
his  assistance,  was,  nevertheless,  under  orders  from  Home, 
marching  against  Aretas  to  punish  him  for  his  rough  treatment 
of  Antipas,  and  had  got  as  far  as  Jerusalem  when  news  came  of 
the  death  of  Tiberius  (a.d  37).  The  defeat  of  Antipas  can  hardly 
have  been  later  than  the  year  36.  Josephus,  however,  remarks 
(Ant.  xvill.  V.  2)  that  the  defeat  of  Antipas  was  popularly 
regarded  as  a  Divine  punishment  for  the  murder  of  John  the 
Baptist.  Hence  it  has  been  inferred  by  Keim  and  others  that 
neither  the  death  of  John  nor  the  marriage  with  Herodias  c 
have  preceded  this  ewnt  by  many 


, „_  „  „  .  advocated  the 

34  as  the  date  of  John's  death,  and  assigned  the  death  of 
Jesus  to  the  year  35  (Jesws  of  Nazara,  ii.  387  ff.).    Sicffert  dates 


The  concise  character  of  Josephus'  narrative,  however,  as  well 
as  the  condition  of  the  text  in  this  section  of  Ant.,  renders  it 
precarious  to  infer,  from  the  order  of  events,  close  chronological 
sequence  (cf.  SchurerS,  i.  443  ff.  ;  Wellhausen  <,  354).     Equally 

*  This  meagreness,  as  compared  with  the  detailed  account  of 
the  life  and  reign  of  Herod  the  Great,  is  due  doubtles.s  to  the 
failure,  after  Herod's  death,  of  one  of  the  principal  sources  upon 
which  Josephus  depended,  Nicolaus  of  Damascus  (cf.  Schurer', 
i.  63 ;  Mathews,  Hist.  134,  n.  1). 


722 


HEROD 


HEROD 


uncertain  is  the  chronological  inference  from  the  popular  con- 
nexion of  Antipas'  defeat  vnth  the  death  of  John,  since  such  a 
judgment  is  too  flexible  to  furnish  any  very  definite  chrono- 
logical datum. 

The  arrest,  imprisonment,  and  death  of  Jolin 
the  Baptist  are  narrated  in  the  Gospels  and  in 
Josephus  (cf.  Mt  4'=  IV-^-  U^";  Mk  1"  &'^-,  Lk  3'«- 
7is(r.  97(r.^  j^  324.  j„f  xviu.  v.  2).  Both  sources 
give  an  account  of  John's  preachinj^  and  baptism. 
Josephus  mentions  a  political  motive  for  John's 
arrest ;  but,  while  such  a  motive  is  not  unlikely 
in  ^ew  of  the  popularity  of  John's  ministry  (Mk 
l^  Mt  3',  Lk  3=',  cf.  Jn  5^)  and  the  jSIessianic  char- 
acter of  his  preaching  (Mk  pf-,  Mt  3"S  Lk  3'=f-,  of. 
Jn  li5.iM.37  sasff.)^  it  does  not  fully  explain  his 
death.  We  learn  also  from  Josephus  that  John 
was  imprisoned  in  the  fortress  of  Machserus,  but 
nothing  is  .said  concerning  the  length  of  the  im- 
prisonment. The  Gospels,  however,  give  a  personal 
motive  for  the  arrest  of  John,  indicate  that  the 
imprisonment  lasted  for  some  time, — probably  about 
a  year,* — and  attribute  his  death  to  the  enmity  of 
Herodias  (Mk  6"-=»,  Mt  M^-i^,  Lk  3^"-  -"}.  For  John 
had  rebuked  Herod  for  his  marriage  mth  Herodias, 
and  for  this  Ii:hI  li.rn  ini|irisoned.  The  imprison- 
ment seems  tn  lnn^  l.i.n  moderated  by  the  free 
access  of  his  di-.  i]iUs  to  him,  and  Herod  himself 
heard  John  from  time  to  time.  At  length,  how- 
ever, on  the  occasion  of  a  birthday  feast,t  cele- 
brated by  Herod  with  the  chief  men  of  his  govern- 
ment, probably  at  the  palace  in  Machserus,  a 
favourable  opportunity  presented  itself  for  Hero- 
dias to  be  avenged  on  John  for  his  attack  on  her 
marriage.  Salome,  the  daughter  of  her  former  mar- 
riage,t  danced  before  Herod  and  his  guests.  Herod 
was  pleased,  and  promised  to  do  for  her  what  she 
might  ask.  At  tlie  suggestion  of  her  mother,  her 
request  took  an  unexpected  form ;  but  because  of 
his  promise  Herod  granted  her  the  death  of  the 
propnet,  who,  like  his  predecessor  in  the  days  of 
Ahab,  had  been  bold  to  arraign  immorality  in  high 
places. 

The  boyhood  of  Jesus  and  most  of  His  public 
ministry  were  spent  \\'ithin  the  territory  of  Antipas. 
It  was  not,  however,  until  the  mission  of  the 
Twelve  that  Herod's  attention  was  attracted  to 
Jesus  ;  for,  though  labouring  on  the  shores  of  the 
Sea  of  Galilee,  and  from  Capernaum  as  a  centre 
extending  His  work  into  the  surrounding  coimtry, 
Jesus  apparently  did  not  visit  Tiberias.  Shortly 
after  Jesus  learned  that  Herod  had  heard  of  Him, 
He  withdrew  from  Galilee,  going  into  the  region  of 
Tyre  and  Sidon  (part  of  the  Roman  pro\'inee  of 
Syria).  On  one  occasion  Jesus  warned  His  dis- 
ciples against  the  leaven  of  Herod  (Mk  8'') ;  on 
another  the  Pharisees,  manifesting  an  unwonted 
interest  in  Jesus'  safety,  brought  Him  word  that 
Herod  was  planning  His  death  (Lk  13^').  The  reply 
of  Jesus  on  the  latter  occasion — 'Go  tell  that  fox' 
— shows  that  He  saw  through  the  cunning  de.sign  of 
Herod  to  be  rid  of  Him.  True  to  His  own  word,— 
'  for  it  cannot  be  that  a  prophet  perisli  out  of  Jeru- 
salem,'— it  was  not  at  the  hand  of  Herod  that  the 
Saviour  of  the  world  suffered,  but  at  the  hands 
of  the  Roman  world-rulers  and  their  procurator. 


licroil  tlial  Jolm  was  risen  from  the  dead.    The 
imnrohahle  that  John's  death  was  a  matter  of 


t  On  the  t 

Pap.  i!  hi  "Vn.'iW.  '24,'5¥lV'i'vr736"l6,"5'f;  Fay.  pip.' 
20,  H5.  6,  119.  30. 

J  The  reading  Mk  6=2  «•>«;  in  KBDLA,  adopted  by  WJ 
probablv  a  corruption  for  xiTf.t  (cf.  Swete,  The  Gosp.  ace.  U 
itk.  118";  SchurerS,  i.  441,  n.  29). 


Pontius  rilate.  At  the  trial  of  Jesus,  Herod's 
wish  to  see  Him  was  at  length  gratified.  For 
Pilate,  when  he  learned  that  Jesus  was  of  Galilee, 
and  thus  subject  to  Herod's  jurisdiction,  at  once 
sent  him  to  Herod,  who  was  in  Jerusalem  at  that 
time.  This  act  of  consideration,  prompted  pos- 
sibly by  the  strained  relations  between  the  two 
nilers  (Lk  23^^,  cf.  13'),  proved  an  eft'ectual  peace- 
ofl'ering,  and  cemented  anew  the  bonds  of  friend- 
ship between  them.  Herod,  however,  had  no 
desire  to  assume  responsibility  for  the  death  of 
Jesus.  His  desire  to  see  Jesus  sprang  from  sunple 
curiosity,  stimulated  by  the  hope  that  He  would 
perform  some  miracle  in  his  presence.  But  Jesus 
was  silent  before  Herod  and  His  accusers.  Herod, 
therefore,  when  he  had  mocked  Him,  sent  Him 
back  to  Pilate  arrayed  in  line  garments.  [The  part 
taken  by  Herod  in  the  trial  of  Jesus  is  the  subject 
of  legendaiy  elaboration  in  the  apociyplial  Gospel 
of  Peter]. 

Stirred  by  envy  at  the  advancement  of  her 
brother  Agrippa  to  royal  dignity,  Herodias  per- 
suaded Herod,  against  his  better  judgment,  to  seek 
from  Caligula  a  similar  honour.  When  he  came  to 
Rome,  however,  Agrippa  preferred  charges  against 
him,  and  called  attention  to  the  military  supplies 
that  had  been  collected  by  Herod.  Herod  was  un- 
able to  deny  the  existence  of  the  supplies,  and  was 
banished  by  Caligula  to  Lyons  in  Gaul,  probably 
in  the  summer  of  A.D.  39  (cf.  Schiirer^,  i.  448,  n.  46  ; 
Madden,  however.  Coins,  122,  gives  the  year  40). 
Herodias  proudly  refused  the  Emperor's  generosity, 
and  accompanied  Iter  husband  in  his  banisliment 
(Ant.  XVII.  vii.  2  ;  BJ  II.  ix.  6).  Herod's  tetrarchy 
was  given  to  Agrippa. 

3.  Philip Philip  was  son  of  Herod  the  Great 

and  Cleopatra  of  Jerusalem.  When  Archelaus 
went  to  Rome  to  secure  the  ratification  of  his 
father's  will,  he  left  Philip  in  Jerusalem  in  charge 
of  his  afl'airs.  Later,  when  Varus  gave  the  Jews  of 
Jerusalem  permission  to  send  an  embassy  to  Rome 
to  oppose  Archelaus,  Philip  went  also,  at  the  sug- 
gestion of  "Varus,  to  profit  by  whatever  course  events 
might  take.  When  Augustus  ratified  Herod's  will, 
Philip  received  Batanaea,  Trachonitis,  Auranitis, 
Gaulanitis,  and  the  territory  of  Panias  (Ant.  XVII. 
^^ii.  1,  xi.  4,  x\^II.  iv.  6;  BJ  II.  vi.  3).  In  Lk  3' 
the  tenitoiy  of  Philip  is  described  by  the  phrase, 
'  the  region  of  Ituroea  and  Trachonitis'  (T^s'Iroupolos 
Kal  Tpaxuivinaos  x^pa' ;  cf-  Schiirer^  i.  425,  n.  23). 
The  Trachonitis  had  on  two  occasions  been  colonized 
by  Herod  the  Great  — once  with  three  thousand 
liumEeans,  and  again  with  Jewish  warriors  from 
Babylon  (Ant.  xvi.  ix.  2,  xvil.  ii.  1-3).  But  the 
"ation  of  Philip's  territory  was  chiefly  Gentile, 
s,  unlike  those  of  his  brothers,  bearing  the 
image  of  the  Emperor.  Philip  rebuilt  Panias,  and 
called  it  Cecsarca  in  honour  of  Augustus,  and  also 
Bethsaida  on  the  Sea  of  Galilee,  calling  it  Julius 
after  the  Emperor's  daughter.  His  reign  was  a  mild 
and  peaceful  one.  He  lived  in  his  own  country  and 
administered  justice  as  he  travelled  from  place  to 
place  (Ant.  xvill.  iv.  6).  He  married  his  niece 
Salome,  daughter  of  Herodias  and  Herod  Philip 
(Ant.  XVIII.  v.  4).  The  Gospels  narrate  a  journey 
of  Jesus  into  the  territory-  of  Philip  when  He  went 
north  from  Galilee  into  the  region  of  Caesarea  Phil- 
inpi  (Mk  8",  Mt  16"';  cf.  C.ESAREA  PhILIPPI). 
Philip  died  in  the  year  33  or  34,  in  the  twentietli 
vear  of  Tiberius,  ha\'ing  reigned  thirty-seven  years. 
His  territory  was  added  to  the  province  of  S-yria, 
but  was  given  shortly  afterwards  by  Caligula  to 
Agrippa.     See  also  art.  Herodias. 


1     i .      [ nry  full  citation  of  literature] ;  Hausrath, 

/  ,  i.  207fl.  ;  O.  Holtmiann,  Seutest.  Zeitgc- 

It.  :  \:v_^f.  Hint,  of  the  Jewish  People. Udfi.;Umt- 

s  0/  Christ ;  Farrar,  The  Bends  ;  S.  Mathews,  Hiit. 


popula 


HERODIANS 


HIGH  PRIEST 


of  NT  Times,  lUOff.  ;  Mommsen,  Roman  Provinces,  ii.  lS9ff.  ; 
Kwald,  HI  V.  395  ff.;  Griitz,  Hist,  of  the  J^ws,  ii.  67  ff.;  de 
Saulov,  Hist.  d'Hi'mdc;  Wellhausen,  IJG^  323  ff. ;  Keim  in 
Sclieiikel's  Blbd-lfxikon,  iii.  27ff.  ;  Westcott  in  Smitli's  DB\ 
ii.  1048  ff.  ;  Sieflert,  art.  'Herodes'  in  PRES;  Hausleiter,  art. 
■  Antipas,'  ib.;  von  Dobschiitz,  art.  '  Philippus  der  Tetrarcli,'  ib.; 
Woodhouse  in  Emuc  Bibl.  ii.  2023  ff.  ;  Headlam  in  Hastings' 
/)/}  ii.  353 ft.;  J.  D.  Davis,  DE.  artt.  'Herod,'  'Philip';  W. 
.Milwitzkv,  art.  'Antipas'  in  Je.wisli  Encj/c.;  I.  Broyd6,  art. 
'  Herod,'  ib. ;  S.  Ocliser,  art.  '  Philip,'  ib. 

W.  P.  Aemsteong. 

HERODIiNS  ('Hpyoiavol).  —  Apart  from  the 
Aveakly  attested  reading  in  Mk  8'%  the  Herodians 
are  mentioned  but  three  time.s  in  the  NT  and  on 
only  two  occasions,  Mt  22"'  being  parallel  with 
Mk  12'=.  The  name  'HpvSiapol  does  not  occur  in 
Josephus.  In  BJ  I.  xvi.  6  the  form  'Hpi^Seioi  is  used 
of  the  party  of  Herod,  and  in  Ant.  xiv.  xv.  lu 
the  phrase  oi  ri  'RpipSov  tppovouvTcs  iicrurs  (c-f.  also 
Ant.  XIV.  vii.  4).  (For  the  formation  in  -lai-os  liki- 
Xpu7Tiaii6s,  cf.  Blass,  Acta  Apo.i.  136.  a  mm.  of  M 
Greek,  §  27,  4  ;  Hamack,  Mission,  u.  A  tisb.  d.  (Jkrkt. 
294 tf.  ;  Etym.  Magn.  s.v.  'Hpif.Siai'ds). 

If  the  party  of  Ilerod  in  Josephus  be  the  same  as 
the  Herodians  of  the  XT  (cf.  O.  Holtzmann,  Neiitest. 
Zeitgcsch.  157  f.,  but,  on  the  other  hand,  Cheyne, 
Encyc.  Bibl.  ii.  2034),  then  the  origin  of  the  party 
must  be  sought  in  the  time  of  Herod  the  Great. 
This  view  of  the  origin  of  the  jiarty  will  also  deter- 
mine our  conception  of  its  ll:il  nil'.      T(  <;il tli:uc' 

been  a  religious  sect  or  party  lil.i'  iIh'  rii,n  i--i(s  (h 
Sadducees,  but  was  most  pr(ili,il.l\  :i  iiuliiiml  |.:niy 
composed  of  the  adherents  .m^l  ,  nppoi  tri^  d  tin- 
Herodian  dynasty.  Frmn  llir  cciiiiliiu.'itiiui  i<i  tin- 
Pharisees  with  tlie  ll,Mn.|i,,n,  (\lk  :;').  .ui.l  tli.'ii 
common  action  in  .li'i  u-;:il'iii  (\li  ■_'!!"■.  Mk  II"'),  it 
is  not  unlikely  that  tin'  lli'r.iili:iii  p.iily  whs  coi;!- 
posed  principally  of  SaiMiic^ 
8"5  witli  Mt  16«).  Aft.r  t! 
Great,  the  deposition  of  Ai 
lishment  of  Koman  inio  in 
purposes  of  the 


,k  20'»  .and  Mk 
of  Herod  the 

and  the  estab- 
the  aims  and 

;iliv    <.-ntn.   in 


Antijias. 
indicated 

Tl 

e  pres 
Mk  :? 

remark  o 

( 

heyne 

mist.iko. 

tlKU-O    <OU 

(ijji.  l-ll .  ii 
to  sec  All 

.[ 

not     l,f 

i:i).    .\ 

s  sit  u 

>untry  of  the  toti-nvh  Autiiia- 
a  party  called  tlio  I  loioili.ins 
embers  of  a  jiartA'  «  liirli  wi^lir.l 
1071  the  throne  ot'ln-  killirriuay 
have  been  in  Galilee  ;is  wrll  :is  in  .1.  i  n-alcia  ;  for 
their  ideal  was  a  nnlion.Ll  one,  .liHn  iii_^  from  the 
ideal  of  the  Zealots  h^  roy;ili-i  fiom  .l.i,i,,i-r,itie. 
Their  union  witli  tli''  -tinn-  l'h:tii'-.ii.'  |.;iity.  .-iiid 
their  attenii.t  to  cnir;!]!  .l,-.u-  wiili  tho  .|Uo-tion 
about  tribute  to  ( ',r-,ir.  Innl  o\|,1;im:iI  ion  not  in  :ui\- 
sympathy  witli  tlie  I'lnni-.'e^  oi  londiii'^^  for  the 
traditions  whicli  .Jesus'  activity  im[ierilled,  but  in 
their  readiness  to  oppose  and  suppress  any  Messianic 
agitation  of  the  people. 

Other  views  attach  some  religious  signilicance 
to  the  party,  connect  them  with  the  Boithusians 
or  with  the  court  of  Antipas  as  members  of  the 
Herodian  family,  officers  or  servants,  and  attribute 
to  them  a  friendly  or  hostile  attitude  towards  the 
Roman  sovereignty  (cf.  Tert.  ml  Onin.  H(er.  i.  ; 
Epiph.  Hcer.  xx.  ;  Stepli.  Thcsawr.  s.v.  ;  Ewald, 
///v.  409  f.  ;  Renan,  Vic  dc  .Tcsiis,  2'26  ;  Edersheim, 
Life  and  Times,  i.  237  ff.,  ii.  384 ;  Bleek,  Syn.  ii. 
327  ;  Zahn,  Matth.  528,  n.  44,  632,  n.  45). 

Literature.  — Keim  in  Scben\ieYs  Bibel-lexikon,  iii.  65 ft.; 
n.  F.  Westcott  in  Smith's  D£2,  ii.  1054  f. ;  Sieftert  in  PREi,  vii. 
789 ;  T.  K.  Che.vne  in  Encyc.  Bibl.  it.  '2043 ;  D.  Eaton  in  Hastings' 
DB  ii.  362 ;  K.  Kohler,  Jewish  Encyc.  vi.  360 ;  J.  D.  Davis, 

VB  293.  W.  P.  Armstrong. 

HERODIAS  fHpvS'ti!)- —  Herodias  was  the 
daughter  of  .4ristobnlus  (son  of  Hero<l  the  Great 
and  Mariamne  the  Hasmoniean)  and  Bernice 
(daughter  of  Salome,  Herod's  sister,  and  Costobar), 
and  thus  the  full  sister  of  Herod,  king  of  Chalcis, 


and  Agrippa  I.  (Ant.  XVIII.  v.  4).  She  married 
first  her  half-uncle  Herod,  son  of  Herod  the  Great 
and  Mariamne,  the  high  priest's  daughter.  In 
Mk  6"  and  Mt  14'  the  first  husband  of  Herodias 
is  called  Philip,  the  brother  of  Herod  (Antipas). 
This  Philip,  therefore,  most  probably  bore  aI>o  the 
name  'Herod'  (as  did  also  his  brothers  .Anhelaus 
and  Antipas),  and  is  to  be  distinguished  from 
Philip  the  tetrareh  (Lk  .31 ;  cf.  Mt  16",  Mk  8-"), 
who  married  Salome,  the  daughter  of  Herod  Philip 
and  Herodias  (Ant.   XVIII.   v.  4).     In  Mk  6"  the 


TTou  has  tlie  support  of  SBCL,  etc. ,  but  is  omitted  in 
Dace  tf  g'  k  vg.  In  Lk  3i»  <S>iXi7r7rou  is  inserted 
by  ACK,  etc.,  cop  syr"''-  arm'^"'''  aeth,  but  omitted 
bj^  XBDL,  etc.  The  reading  thus  appears  to  be 
original  in  Mk.,  probably  original  in  Mt.,  and 
derivative  in  Luke.  The  statement  (Encyc.  Bibl. 
ii.  2032),  '  In  spite  of  Mk  6"  we  cannot  liold  that 
he  ever  really  bore  the  name  Philip,'  as  well  as 
the  remark  of  Scliiiier=  (i.  435,  n.  19),  'Since, 
according  to  Josephus,  not  the  tetrareh  but  the 
above-named  Herod  was  the  first  husband  of 
Herodias,  the  statement  of  Mark  and  Matthew- 
is  evidently  a  mistake'  (<///  1  iifxr/iiri/cncs  Vcr- 
.■ichen)  are  too  positive.  'I'liev  do  not  rest  on 
anymore  siihslantial  evi.lrino  than  the  fact  that 
.inso|ilins  calls  llii-isoiiof  llc'io.l  the  Great  simply 
ll,no,l.      '['lie    arunnienl     that    two    .sons  of    Herod 

^^onl.l    iiof    \,:nr    koine    the    >; j   name    Philip  is 

weakened  l,y  the  farl  i  hat  e\  ,ai  acianding  to  Jose- 
|ihiis  two  sons  of  Ill-rod  liore  tin'  -nine  name — 
llero.l.sonof  Mariainnr,  the  hi-jli  pi  n-si 's ,hiughter, 
and  Herod,  son  of  Cleoiiatia  i.t.i/.  \\  II.  i.  3,  XVIII. 
v.  4).  Herod  Pliilij.  Iia.l  ln-ri,  ,lr-i::nated  in  the 
fir.st  will  of  Herod  the  (.i.-at  a-  the  alternate  of 
Antipas  in  succe.ssion  to  the  ihiono  (.1 ,,/.  xvil.  iii.  2; 
/;./  1.  xxix.  2).  lint  was  sulise.jiient  l.\  omitted  be- 
raiise  of  his  mother's  connexion  witli  the  plot  of 
.\nti]iater  {.\iif.  XVII.  iv.  2;  BJ  I.  xxx.  7).  He 
■ iiioH'il   ill  ]oivate  life  in  Rome,  where  Antipas, 


riiis 


.aiiihitious  and  un.scrupi 
uill,    tho  .l,.«i,faIlof  . 


.,ll.aisn.Mo|lie.l.-u,-,  liiMaii-.'lierliiishaM.l.towlioiii 
slie  had  lionie  a  .liild,  Nvas  .slill  alue  tcf.  Lv  1S'\ 
Dt  25^ ;  al.so.l^/.  .xvil.  xiii.  1).  John  the  Baptist 
rebuked  Antipas  for  his  action,  and  paid  the 
penalty  with  his  life  for  rousing  the  anger  of  an 
nscrupulous  woman.  Her  connexion 
ipas  has  been  mentioned 
(it.  art.  Il]:iaii)  under  'Antipas').  In  the  last 
reeordi'il  imiilent  of  her  life,  when  Herodias  volun- 
tarily follow  III  .\iiti]ias  into  exile  and  haughtily 
refused  the  l'.iii|ieioi'~Iionnty,  she  displayed,  likelier 
grandmothri  Maiianiiie  when  unjustly  sentenced 
to  deatli,  the  |iroud  fortitude  and  fine  dignity  of 
the  old  Hasmona'an  house  now  brought  so  low- 
through  its  union  with  the  Herods  (Ant.  xvill. 
vii.  2  ;  cf.  XV.  ix.  5). 


Literature. -.Schiirer, 
E.  ,S.  FfoiUkes  in  Smitt 
vii.  769f. ;  Woodhouse 
Hastings'  DB  ii.  360  ;  I 
J.  D.  Davis,  J3B '293  f. 


Eneyc.   Bibl.   ii.   '2033;    He.idlam 
tirovdc  in  Jeifiik  Encyc.  \\.  3«l)l 

W.  p.  xVe.m.stroxg. 


HEZEKIAH.— One  of  the  kings  of  Judah,  men- 
tioned in  Mt.'s  (P"')  genealogy  of  our  Lord. 

HEZRON.— A  Judahite  ancestor  of  Jesus  (iMt  P, 
Lk  3==). 

HIGH  PRIEST.-The  terms  'high  priest'  and 
'chief  priest'  in  the  NT  represent  the  same 
original  (apxitpivs),  varied  in  translation  to  corre- 
spond with  the  uses  of  the  term  as  explained 
below.     The  office  of  high   priest   in   the  Jewish 


724 


HIGH  PRIEST 


HIGHWAY 


nation  can  be  traced  Ivuk  U<  the  early  years  of 
post-exilic  times.  'Plie  priestly  writings  then 
adopted  as  authoritain'  .i-~i;.;ii  its  origin  to  the 
time  of  Moses,  but  thr  rarliiT  ^litings  contain  no 
suggestion  of  the  exi-teiue  of  the  (itiice,  and  cul- 
tural conditions  before  tlie  Exile  preclude  an  early 
date  for  its  establishment.  Immediately  after  the 
Return  the  office  was  a  religious  one,  the  secular 
power  being  in  the  hands  of  the  '  prince ' ;  for, 
great  as  wa-s  the  emphasis  in  the  new  community 
upon  law  and  ceremony,  there  seems  to  have  been 
an  equal  emphasis  upon  the  hoped  for  restoration 
of  the  State  to  a  dignified  and  independent  posi- 
tion. It  very  soon  became  evident  that  this  hope 
was  impossible  of  fulfilment,  and  the  secular  func- 
tions, so  far  as  they  were  exercised  by  the  Jews, 
were  merged  in  the  duties  of  the  high  priest.  At 
first  the  position  was  for  life  and  hereditary.  In 
practice  the  principle  was  often  violated,  the  viola- 
tions being  occasioned  not  so  much  by  deliberate 
purpose  as  by  the  turmoils  of  Greek  and  Roman 
times.  Moreover,  internal  conditions  in  the  Jewish 
comnuinity  were  of  themselves  sufficient  to  have 
unsettled  "the  principle.  At  the  time  of  the  Has- 
nionipan  uprising,  the  assumption  of  high  priestly 
functions  and  title  by  this  famUy  was  essential  to 
the  success  of  the  revolt.  Under  the  Roman  su- 
premacj',  the  fortunes  of  the  political  parties  in 
Jlome  added  to  the  tendencies  that  made  for  the 
disappearance  of  the  last  vestige  of  permanence  in 
the  high  priestly  office,  and  at  the  time  of  Christ 
we  find  it  entirely  at  the  will  of  Rome,  both  as  to 
appointment  and  tenure.  Under  these  conditions 
there  had  grown  up  a  caste  of  high  priestly 
families,  descended  from  high  priests  and  otherwise 
connected  -Nvitli  them  ;  these  formed  a  high  aristo- 
cracy in  Judaism,  which  was  j^ossessed  of  consider- 
able authority,  however  difficult  it  may  be  to 
define  the  limits  and  extent  of  that  influence. 
Very  naturally  the  selection  of  the  high  priest  was 
made  from  these  families.  The  numerous  refer- 
ences in  the  Gospels  are  ordinarily  to  this  high 
priestly  class,  and  when  the  Greek  is  so  used  it  is 
translated  '  chief  priests '  (see  art.  Chief  Priests). 

As  far  as  concerns  the  high  priest  proper,  he 
occupied  the  position  of  chief  political  author- 
ity among  the  Jews,  as  head  of  the  Sanhedrin. 
Josephus  declares  (Ant.  xx.  10)  that  there  were 
28  high  priests  from  tlie  time  of  Herod  to  the 
destruction  of  Jerusalem.  Of  these,  the  Gospels 
mention  the  tentli,  Annas,  apjiointed  l)y  Quirinius 
(A.D.  6),  and  the  fourteenth.  .[o-c|.li.  s\iniamed 
Caiaphas,  who  was  in  office  at  i  In  I  mn'  nf  i  he  cruci- 
fixion of  Jesus  and  presidcil  nn  ihr  Sanliedrin 
at  His  trial.  Previous  to  I  In-  i  lial  tlicic  was  a 
preliminary  trial  or  licariiiu.  \\  liether  with  or 
without  legal  riglit,  luimr  \iiiia-,  father-in-law  of 
Caiaphas.  The  Gospil  nanaim.  of  these  events, 
.so  far  from  being  coiilu^ed  m  improljable,  is  con- 
firmed as  entirely  consistent  and  probable  by  the 
records  of  Jewish  practice  of  those  days.  Annas 
was  a  man  of  long  continued  influence  among  his 
people.  No  fewer  than  six  of  the  high  priests  of 
the  Herodian  period  are  kno:wn  to  have  been  of  his 
family.  Other  high  priests  lafter  the  end  of  their 
term  of  service  are  stated  to  have  held  hi^h  posi- 
tions at  home  and  abroad,  and  it  is  possible  that 
some  of  the  Gospel  references  to  high  or  chief 
priests  are  to  this  grou])  of  (>x-high  priests  togetlier 
with  the  officiating  priest. 

The  high  priest  was  alsso  at  the  head  of  the 
sacerdotal  system,  as  the  title,  of  course,  implies. 
But  although  historically  this  was  his  chief  claim 
to  authority,  his  religious  influence  in  the  time  of 
Christ  was  far  le.ss  than  his  political  jjower.  The 
religion  of  the  Jew  was  a  matter  quite  distinct 
from  the  rites  and  cere^monies  of  the  temple, 
though  he  might  obser^■e  these  with  care.    The 


very  success  of  the  high  priests  centuries  before, 
in  uniting  the  two  offices  of  religious  and  secular 
ruler,  had  operated  to  foster  the  development  of  a 
religion  of  a  different  sort.  It  was  now  a  religion 
of  the  scribes. 

The  high  priest  conducted  the  sacrifices  only  on 
special  occasions.  He  was  required  to  officiate  on 
the  yearly  Day  of  Atonement ;  and  on  other 
festival  days,  such  as  New  Moons  and  Sabbaths, 
he  officiated  at  his  pleasure.  These  distinctively 
priestly  duties  do  not  come  into  consideration  in 
the  Gospel  narratives.  The  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews, 
on  the  other  hand,  makes  much  mention  of  the 
office  in  order  by  that  means  to  portray  more 
clearly  the  work  of  Jesus  in  behalf  of  men  ;  but 
one  will  be  disappointed  who  goes  to  this  Epistle 
to  discover  what  were  the  high  priestly  functions 
at  the  time  of  Christ,  or  even  to  discover  the 
theory  of  sacrifice  and  priesthood  current  in  those 
days.  The  author  does  not  describe  the  ceremonial 
as  he  and  his  readers  knew  it  from  daily  observa- 
tion or  participation.  He  does  not  allude  to  it 
because  it  was  something  vital  in  the  religious 
experience  of  the  Jew.  He  describes  it  as  he 
knew  it  out  of  the  Jewish  Scriptures,  and  he  re- 
flects upon  it  as  dispassionately  as  a  jihilosopher 
or  a  theologian.  The  OT  priesthood  and  sacrifice 
did  not  really  make  atonement  for  sin  ;  to  the 
author  they  typified  that  atonement.  In  the  real 
atonement  Christ  had  a  part  similar  to  that  played 
by  the  high  priest  in  the  sensuous,  temporary, 
typical  atonement  of  the  earlier  dispensation.  He 
made  reconciliation  for  the  sins  of  the  people  (2") ; 
He  was  faithful,  the  recipient  of  a  greater  glory 
than  IMoses  {3^-^) ;  sought  not  the  office,  but  was 
chdsen  a^  was  Aaron  (5'') ;  He  was  of  the  order  of 
.Mclrlii/i'.lck  (5'"  6™);  was  competent  to  sympa- 
thize «ith  men  (•2'8  4'").  He  possessed  an  un- 
eliaii^iiiL;  |uii-.thood,  sacrificing  once  for  all  (7), 
and  tlie  sacrifice  was  Himself.  He  has  passeil 
through  the  lieavens,  through  the  veil  (4"),  and 
serves  in  a  perfect  tabernacle.  As  the  work 
wrought  by  Him  for  men  surpassed  that  of  the 
high  priest,  so  the  terminology  of  the  older  dis- 
pensation is  insufficient,  and  breaks  down  under 
the  burden  of  the  description.  Jesus  is  not  onlj;  the 
Mediator  of  the  new  covenant,  the  High  Priest, 
but  He  is  also  the  sacrifice  itself.  The  author  will 
not  say  that  the  death  on  the  cross  fitted  into  the 
OT  sacrificial  system,  any  more  than  he  brings 
Jesus  into  that  system  as  priest.  It  was  in  the 
new  onler  (if  tliiiiijs,  in  the  spiritual  atonement, 
which  was  the  leal  one,  with  spiritual  agencies 
and  results,  that  Hi-  perfect  humanity.  His  per- 
fect obedience  and  .sinlessness,  found  place.  The 
temple  is  in  the  heavens  whither  He  has  gone  to 
consummate  the  service  of  which  His  earthly  career 
was  an  incident.     See,  further,  art.  Priest. 

LiTERAiFEB.— Sohurer,  GJVi  §§  23,  24;  Beyschlag,  XT 
Theol.  ii.  315-331 ;  Westcott,  Ep.  to  Hebrews ;  BrigCT,  Messiah 
of  Ihe  Apostles,  242-283;  JWn^goz,  I'hM.  de  TEjMre  mix 
ilibreux,  102 ff.,  19-ff.  OWEN  H.  GATES. 

HIGHWAY.— In  the  parable  (Mt  22«)  where  the 
invited  guests  all  made  excuse,  the  king  sent  his 
servants  out  (ttI  tos  Sief (iSoi'S  twv  bSCiv,  '  into  the 
highways'  (AV),  to  gather  as  many  as  they  could 
find,  and  bid  them  to  the  feast.  The  Gr.  phrase 
means  literally  '  the  partings  of  the  highways '  (so 
RV),  exitiis  viarum  (V  ulg:. ).  This  is  the  only  occur- 
rence of  iii^oaoL  in  the  NT,  .-md  it  is  impossible  to 
determine  with  eertainty  "lial  is  meant  by  the 
expression.  It  may  sinnify  either  the  roails  lead- 
ing out  of  the  town  into  the  country,  or  the  cross- 
ings of  such,  or  the  streets  leading  into  the  open 
spaces  or  square  in  front  of  the  town.  The  idea 
is  clear — where  men  both  good  and  bad,  Jew  and 
Gentile,  are  most  likely  to  be  found.     God's  pur- 


HILL 


HIRELING 


725 


pose  cannot  be  frustrated  ;  and  if  the  invited  guests 
neglect  the  call,  then  others  who  have  hitherto 
been  looked  down  xipon  will  take  their  place.  The 
invitation  is  to  all  and  sundry,  which  leads  Whedon 
to  say,  '  The  good  are  not  too  good  to  need  the 
gospel,  nor  the  bad  so  bad  as  to  have  no  hope  if 
they  will  accept  it.'  It  was  the  poor,  the  outcast, 
the  hopeless  that  were  to  be  found  on  the  high- 
ways :  blind  Bartiniieus  (Mk  10'"')  shouting,  '  Have 
mercy  on  nie,'  and  such  as  the  lepers  who  stood 
afar  ofl'  (Lk  17'')  uttering  the  same  miserable  cry. 
See,  further,  art.  Koads.  K.  Leggat. 

HILL In  Lk  3=  233"  ilpos  is  distinguished  from 

^ow6s,  which  in  LXX  commonly  stands  for  njjna, 
and  as  representing  the  lesser  eminence,  is  properly 
rendered  '  hill.'  Language  like  that  of  23*  is  used 
in  hyperbole  to-day  by  Easterns,  of  preparing  a 
highway  for  royalty  through  a  practically  roadless 
country.  In  two  cases  (Mt  S",  Lk  4-'-')  RV  retains 
AV  rendering  of  6pos,  '  hill.'  In  Lk  9^'  RV  rightly 
substitutes  'mountain.'  Perhaps  we  should  read 
'  mountain '  also  in  Mt  5".  There  is  nothing  to 
show  that  any  particular  city  was  referred  to,  but 
if  the  words  were  spoken  on  any  height  west  of  the 
Lake,  Safed,  with  white  walls  gleaming  in  the  sun, 
must  have  been  a  striking  feature  in  the  landscape. 
It  stands  literally  'on  a  mountain,'  to  the  north, 
nearly  3500  ft.  aljove  the  Sea  of  Galilee.  Ancient 
Nazareth,  however,  was  built  on  the  slope  of  a  hill 
to  which  '  mountain '  could  hardly  apply. 

Hill  country  (^  dpuvri,  Lk  P"-  ^^).  ri  dpeivr]  is  a 
frequent  LXX  equivalent  of  nnri.  The  use  of  Heb. 
nn  closely  resembles  that  of  Arab,  jnbel,  which 
denotes  a  single  height,  but  also  a  whole  range, 
as  Jebel  Libndn ;  or  a  definite  part  of  a  range,  as 
Jebel  Ndblus — this  indicating  that  portion  of  '  the 
mountain'  which  is  under  the  government  of 
Nablus.  This  expression  and  Jebel  el-Kuds  the 
present  writer  has  often  heard  on  Palestinian  lips, 
without  any  sense  of  vagueness  or  confusion.  ■\nr\ 
was  '  the  mountain ' — the  central  range  as  dis- 
tinguished from  the  plain  and  the  Shephelah  on 
the  west,  and  the  'Arabah  on  the  east.  Jebel  el- 
Kiids,  'mountain  of  Jerusalem,'  is  perhaps  the 
nearest  modern  equivalent  of  i)  dpetvii  t^s  'louSaias, 
that  part  of  '  the  mountain '  associated  with  the 
tribe  of  Judah.     See,  further,  art.  Mountain. 

W.  EWING. 

HINDEANCE.-The  life  of  comnmnion  with  God 
and  of  obedience  to  His  revealed  ^^^ll  is  regarded 
as  the  normal  state  and  right  relationship  of  man 
made  in  God's  image  and  for  His  glory.  AH  defect 
and  deflection  from  this  standard  are  the  result  of 
external  and  internal  hindrances.  The  world  is  an 
environment  of  hindrances  and  causes  of  stumbling 
(Mt  18').  Such  is  the  pressure  of  opposing  influ- 
ences that  the  entrance  into  life  has  to  be  by  a 
narrow  gate  (7'^).  Instances  of  these  outward  and 
inward  difficulties  are  given  in  the  parable  of  the 
Sower  (13'8-23),  and  in  that  of  the  Tares  their  final 
elimination  is  predicted  {v.'*^). 

1.  The  following  hindrances  are  specially  em- 
phasized :  (1)  prosperity  and  iimcer  (Mt  4*^  1!)-^  Lk 
16»'  18=3)  .  (2)  self-rigJiteousness  and  the  arrcstiiu, 
effect  of  an  inferior  standard  (Mt  5=°  6--  ■■• '"  S.')^-^ 
Lk  18»);  {3)favu/i/  elaims  and  thrir  diyi/arinr/ 
power  {UtS-^  10");  (4)  initil  of  fiill,  (Mt  14"  17=" 
25==,  Lk  223=);  ,5)  yi„dw's,ofhn,it  in  its  jiro- 
gressive  stages  of  (a)  ignorance  (Mt  Ki'"',  Lk  18'" 
233»,  Jn  17=•^  repeated  in  Ac  3",  1  Co  2"),  (b)  in- 
difference (Lk  7^=),— being  the  interval  of  apathy 
and  discouragement  that  succeeds  when  ideals  once 
regarded  as  final  cease  to  fill  tlie  imagination  and 
satisfj-  the  heart,  and  institutions  once  held  to 
be  sacred  fail  to  yield  the  expected  results,— (c) 
inability  to  discern  and  feel  (Mt  16''  23-"),  and 
lastly  (d)  conscious  malignity  towards  the  King- 


dom of  God  (Mt  23"  27'8,  Mk  7*,  Lk  11'=- =2,  cf. 
Ko  P=). 

2.  Comparative  moral  values  are  attached  to 
these  hindrances  (Mt  8'"  IP'-^^  12^'-  *=,  Mk  12^'"*',  Lk 
V  17'").  Prayer  may  be  offered  for  their  removal 
(Mt  2639,  similarly  2  Co  128). 

3,  Christ's  relationship  to  the  world-spirit  is  one 
of  coniplcto  opposition  (Jn  W^  IS**).  The  victory 
that  can  be  obtained  over  all  biiidranfes  makes  a 
.sanctified    cross   the   (miiLIimh  (.1  tin-  Cliri-tiiin  life 

(Mtip,  Mk  8-«,  Lk  ll-l.         11. 1>  liuNVrr  I,,  n^.Tcome, 

promised  to  those  \\li(.  .iluilc  iji  (luist  (.In  l.'i'),  is 
referred  to  in  the  Kpistli',.,  us  already  a  veiilied  fact 
in  Christian  experience  (Ko  S-"  ■■',  I'li  4'-'). 

Stumbling-block,  stumbling-stone  {Tp6<xKo/ifia, 
TTpoaKOTrtj^  also  aKafOixKof,  '  trap'  or  'snare'  [Ro  IP], 
and  frequently  tr.  '  offence,'  '  offend '  [Mt  16=3  18"-" 
2631,  Lk  17']).  The  root-idea  is  that  of  encounter- 
ing an  obstacle  where  such  ought  not  to  be,  as  on 
a  public  road.  In  its  fig.  sense  the  offence  is  most 
blameworthy  where  the  trust  is  most  implicit  and 
unreserved,  as  in  the  confidence  of  children  (Mt 
18"). 

In  the  East  the  bridle-path  is  seldom  repaired. 
Stones  may  be  cast  out  upon  it  in  clearing  the  neigh- 
bouring fields;  squared  st<jnes  tor  KuiMinu,  ( olleeted 
at  the  road-side  for  transport,  .-iie  uttcn  Mattered 
over  the  path  ;  if  a  bed  of  sand  suilalile  fur  mixing 
with  lime  be  found  near  it,  the  path  may  be  dug 
into  and  the  cavity  left  unfilled.  No  harm  can 
arise  from  it,  men  say,  except  to  those  for  whom  it 
is  decreed.  The  people  of  the  village  soon  come  to 
know  of  it,  and  they  are  under  no  obligation  to 
strangers.  The  better  jjrepared  roads  have  gener- 
ally been  constructeil  for  Government  purposes  and 
by  forced  labour,  so  that  the  peo]ilp  of  the  locality 
take  little  civic  interest  in  (Iumi  cnmlition  and  pre- 
servation. Hence  stnnilJiirj Mu.  k-,  are  frequently 
met  with,  and  cause  lilt!'-  mhihIm'  or  comment. 

In  modern   Palestine  criminals  and  men  of  de- 

{)raved  life  are  called  muaththarin,  '  those  who 
lave  been  made  to  stumble ' ;  and  the  .same  epithet 
is  applied  to  such  as  are  in  trouble  through  mis- 
fortune. 

The  Cross  that  made  God  the  sacrificer  and 
suppliant,  and  called  for  faith  in  a  Saviour  who 
could  not  save  Himself,  was  a  stumbling-block  or 
offence  to  the  wisdom  of  the  world,  and  to  all  its 
religious  traditions  (Ro  933,  j  Qq  jej^  1  p  08). 

G.  M.  Mackie. 
HIRE. — '  Hire '  (/iicrflcSs)  occurs  in  two  passages  as 
the  regular  payment  given  for  service  rendered. 
In  the  parable  of  the  Labourers  in  the  Vineyard 
(Mt  20")  it  is  spoken  of  the  day's  wage,  the 
denarius,  owing  by  agreement  to  the  workers. 
The  proverbial  phrase,  '  The  labourer  is  worthy 
of  his  hire '  (Lk  10'),  is  used  by  Christ  in  connexion 
with  the  mission  of  the  Seventy.  In  Mt  10'"  rpo^^, 
'  food,'  is  substituted  for  iwrBdi.  The  latter  Greek 
word  occurs  again  (Jn  43")  as  the  wages  of  the 
reaper.  It  is  used  in  a  good  sense  as  the  reward  of 
devotion  and  service  to  God  (Mt  5'-  6'  10",  Mk  9*', 
Lk  6^),  as  well  as  to  describe  the  '  empty  popu- 
larity' attaching  to  the  religious  ostentation  of 
the  hypocrites  (Mt  G-- =■'").  It  is  employed  (Rev 
22'-)  of  Christ's  reward  to  His  faithful  followers : 
'  My  reward  is  with  me.' 

The  term  'hired  servant'  or  'hireling'  (/iicrSurcSs) 
is  used  in  speaking  of  Zebedee's  servants  (Mk  1'-"), 
and  of  the  false  shepherd  who  deserts  his  flock  at 
the  approach  of  danger  (Jn  10'--  '3).  A  similar 
derivative  (p.la6iot)  describes  the  father's  servants 
in  the  parable  of  the  Prodigal  Son  (Lk  15'»).  The 
verb  '  to  hire '  (/xitrSiw)  occurs  (Mt  20')  of  the  house- 
holder who  engaged  the  labourers  for  his  vineyard. 
See  also  next  article.  C.  H.  Prichaed. 


HIRELING.-A  hireling 


who  works  for 


726 


HISTORICAL 


HISTORICAL 


wages,  an  employ^.  Originally  synonymous  with 
'  liired  servant,'  it  did  not  necessarily  imply  venal 
motive.  Ben  Sira  was  acquainted  with  clevoted 
hirelings :  '  Entreat  not  evil  thy  servant  tliat 
worketh,  nor  a  hireling  that  giveth  thee  his  life ' 
(Sir  7-°).  Hireling  now  denotes  a  wage-earner 
who  manifests  ceritain  baser  qualities  of  human 
nature.  Christ's  use  of  the  word  in  Jn  10'--  '■'  to 
signify  one  who,  because  he  cares  more  for  his 
wages  than  for  his  work,  proves  unfaithful  under 
trial,  has  determined  its  evolution  into  meaning  an 
untrustworthy  employ^. 

Calvin,  who  defines  hirelings  as  '  those  who  retain  the  pure 
doctrine,  and  who  proclaim  the  truth,  as  Paul  says,  to  serve  a 
purpose  rather  than  from  pure  zeal,'  discusses  a  question  wont 
to  be  debated  in  times  of  persecution,  viz. — Has  that  man  to  be 
reckoned  a  hireUng  who  for  any  reason  shrinks  from  encounter- 
ing the  wolves?  He  agrees  with  Augustine  that  parties  may 
flee  *  if  the  public  advant^e  of  the  flock  be  thereby  promoted  ' 
(Calvin  on  John,  vol.  i.  p.  403  f.,  Edinburgh,  1847). 

D.  A.  MACKINNON". 

HISTORICAL.  —  1.  The  word  'history'  is  am- 
biguous. It  may  mean  ( 1 )  the  course  of  events  ;  or 
(2)  any  record  of  the  events — a  history  ;  or  (3)  the 
science,  History,  which  understands  the  Avhole. 
Scientific  history  is  comparatively  a  young  tiling  ; 
but  already  educated  mankind  are  temliiig  to 
refuse  the  name  of  'a  history'  to  anything  under 
the  second  head  which  does  not  try  to  fulfil  the 
requirements  of  science.  What  fails  in  that  may 
be  a  chronicle,  or  may  furnish  useful  materials  to 
the  true  historian,  but  is  not  really  history. 

2.  The  aims  of  the  science  of  liistory  are  two- 
fold. (1)  It  niu.st  get  at  the  facts  ;  and  to  do  that 
it  must  secure,  as  far  as  possible,  first-hand  evi- 
dence ;  (2)  it  must  study  the  facts  in  their  de- 
velopment or  causation  or  connexion  upon  all 
sides.  (1)  In  its  search  for  first-hand  e^^dence,  the 
science  of  history  has  different  kinds  of  material 
to  work  ^vitll.  (a)  The  oldest  material  for  history 
is  tradition.  All  knowledge  of  past  events  lived 
at  first  in  human  memory  before  it  assumed  any 
more  permanent  shape.  But  tradition,  unsupported 
or  unassisted,  is  a  bad  witness.  And  in  our  own 
region  there  is  no  real  historical  tradition  apart 
from  the  Chri-stian  records,  etc.  What  is  pre- 
tended by  Catholicism  in  that  sense  is  a  make- 
believe,  to  cover  over  unwarranted  innovations. 
The  furthest  admission  we  can  make  is  that  scraps 
of  historical  recollection,  otherwise  lost  to  us, 
may  sur^ve  in  Church  legends,  which  were  re- 
duced pretty  early  to  writing  (the  Thekla  legend  ?). 
(i)  The  best  of  all  witnesses  is  epigraphy.  Biblical 
learning  owes  something  to  this,  and  may  come  to 
owe  a  good  deal  more — no  one  can  say.  (c)  The 
main  source  of  historical  knowledge  is  literature, 
—human  speech  reduced  to  the  ordinary  forms 
of  writing.  Less  durable  (as  well  as  less  stift') 
than  inscriptions,  books  are  more  numerous — so 
much  more  numerous,  that  they  enjoy  probably  a 
better  chance  of  survival.  In  our  own  field  the 
Bible  writings,  though  not  al)soluteIy  isolated, 
stand  head  and  shoulders  above  all  other  materials 
in  point  of  importance.  This  is  true  on  purely 
historical  principles,  theories  of  inspiration  apart. 
(d)  At  the  risk  of  making  a  cross-division,  we  must 
mention  the  importance  ol foreign  tcstiiiiiini/.    The 

amount  of  this  is  increasing  villi  N m  .--tudy 

and  research;  and  the  .signilic  .inc.-  ■:rnri;Uly 
attached  to  affinities  between  ininiiiiM  (  lnisti- 
anity  and  other  civilizations  or  rclitiionN  i<  ,iIso  on 
the  increase.  (2)  Tlie  most  manifest  result  of  study 
in  the  field  of  history  is  to  give  a  better  knowledge 
of  detail.  But  we  must  not  allow  ourselves  to 
suppose  that  events  occur  disconnectedly,  one  by 
one,  and  that  the  mind  of  the  scientific  thinker 
imposes  connexions  upon  them.  Science  does  not 
create,  it  elicits  the  hidden  law ;  and  anything 
that  gives  us  greater  knowledge  of  events  increases 


our  knowledge  of  the  relations  in  which  they  stand 
to  each  other.  Facts  ^-ithout  theory  are  '  blind,' 
if  theories  without  fact  are  'empty.'  The  ideal 
goal  of  liistorical  study,  never,  of  course,  to  be 
reached,  would  be  a  scientific  grasp  of  every  past 
event  in  its  full  significance — reality  completely 
reproduced  in  the  historian's  intelligence,  tor  the 
facts  with  which  history  deals  are  intelligent  acts 
and  intelligible  processes.  True,  the  unconscious 
tendency  of  the  times  may  count  for  more  than 
the  conscious,  perhaps  selfish,  ettbrt  of  the  great 
man.  Or  what  he  does  unwilluiglj-,  as  the  execu- 
tive of  Providence  and  the  Zeitgci.it,  may  be  the 
most  significant  and  durable  of  all  his  acts.  Yet 
history  is  man's  story ;  surely,  then,  man  can 
read  it ! 

3.  The  Christian  study  of  Bible  documents  moves 
for  great  part  of  its  way,  though  hardly  to  the 
very  end  [see  below],  upon  historical  lines.  (1)  Its 
admitted  hermeneutioal  ])rincii)le,  since  the  days 
of  Enie^ti  (Instil „tio  jHlrrpirtisXT,  1761),  is  tile 
'gT.uniii.itiro-hi>torii;il  '  -/.. .  lilrnil  and  historical 
— nictliuil.  Stri'-lly.  r.-irli  ^rntF-m-e  has  one  mean- 
ing, and  (iiily  one— the  iiii/.-niing  its  human  author 
designed ;  the  meaning  its  first  readers  would 
naturally  apprehend.  This  principle  had  to  be 
laid  down  in  face  of  the  Church's  age-long  hanker- 
ing aft€r  '  mystical '  interpretation.  If  the  Scrip- 
tures may  be  allegorized,  theology  and  faith 
itself  rest  upon  a  (juicksand.  (2)  Criticism  of 
the  text,  by  all  its  methods,  aims  at  dis- 
covering, with  as  much  probability  as  can  be 
attained,  the  original  form  of  words  used  by  the 
writer  in  each  passage.  It  has  nothing  to  do — 
unless  with  supreme  caution,  as  possible  evidence 
to  the  fact — ^witli  the  question,  which  words  appear 
to  the  student  most  seemly  or  most  telling.  Niiy, 
there  is  a  recognized  principle  that  'the  harder 
reading  is  probable ' ;  thougli  we  must  be  able  to 
discriminate  the  sort  of  '  difficult '  reading  which 
suggests  a  powerful  while  perhaps  erratic  mind, 
from  that  which  rather  suggests  a  blundering 
copyist.  (3)  Careful  study  of  the  text  leads  to  a 
further  set  of  inferences,  chiefly  or  entirely  drawn 
from  internal  evidence,  regarding  probable  date 
and  probable  authorship.  This  is  the  Higher 
Criticism — 'higher'  because  dealing  with  larger 
questions  than  those  of  the  text.  (4)  Even  in 
Biblical  Theology  ^^■e  are  still  occupied  with  the 
historian's  business.  Before  all  things,  we  are  re- 
producing past  facts.  Scripture  includes  great 
masses  of  doctrinal  teaching ;  the  Biblical  Theo- 
logian seeks  to  put  these  in  shape,  as  they  stand — 
the  affirmations  of  such  and  such  books,  or  teachers, 
or  ages.  The  result  aimed  at  is  not  Divine  truth 
as  such,  but  various  Biblical  teachings  about  the 
truth ;  not  a  normative  statement  regarding  reali- 
ties which  are  real,  but  a  historical  statement 
regarding  what  was  held  or  announced  to  be 
spiritual  reality  ;  historical,  not  dogmatic 

i.  An  attempt  was  made  by  a  great  theological 
leader,  Schleiermacher,  to  bring  even  dogmatic 
theology  under  the  same  rubric.  It  was  to  be  a 
branch  of  Historical  Theology.  Ceasing  to  be  (prim- 
arily) a  statement  of  truth,  it  was  to  be  a  state- 
ment of  what  a  certain  Church  in  a  certain  age 
has  come  to  hold  for  true.  The  suggestion  was  in- 
genious, and  avoided  certain  difficulties ;  but  it 
led  to  other  and  worse  difficulties.  If  Christian 
theology,  in  its  central  department,  cannot  pretend 
to  set  forth  truth,  it  pruchiims  it-t-lf  bankrupt.  It 
can  live  upon  notliiiiu  lr~>  th.in  ihr  truths  regard- 
ing God  and  lli>  i.uip.i.,-,  «lii(h  He  has  been 
plea.sed  to  make  know  n  to  \i>. 

5.  What  shall  we  say,  then,  of  the  remainder  of 
the  Biblical  territory  ?  We  were  dealing,  until  the 
last  paragraph,  with  stages  in  a  process  of  historical 
study.     We  found  that  even  doctrine  was  treated 


HISTOEICAL 


HISTORICAL 


in  Biblical  Theology  as  a  historical  study,  although 
on  the  systematic  or  dogmatic  side  it  required 
us  to  occupy  a  different  point  of  view  from  the 
historian's.  But  what  are  we  to  say  regarding  the 
history  of  Israel  ?  Or— coming  closer  to  our  ground 
— regarding  the  lifp  ;is  distim-t  fmrn  the  tfar-hing 
of  Jesus?  Or,  ill  -.mh'I-:iI,  n-nnlin-j;  tlir  ovi-ins  of 
Christianity?  I'lint  whirl,  \.,;,,  liijhcr  tliini  man 
or  than  history  li.-i^  appiariMl  onn-  h.r  all  iipoiL  tlie 
plane  of  human  history.  Tin-  Word  brraiiic  Jlcsh. 
Unless  this  be  denied,  we  have  come  to  a  point 
where  the  contents  of  our  study  burst  the  bonds  of 
ordinary  historical  investigation.  Difficulty  arises 
in  two  forms.  First,  there  is  the  minor  difficulty 
connected  with  physical  miracles.  Can  history 
adjust  itself  to  them  ?  If  so,  how  ?  If  not,  what 
are  we  to  conclude?  But,  in  the  second  place, 
substantially  the  same  question,  issuing  in  sub- 
stantially the  same  alternatives,  repeats  itself  as 
regards  the  very  kernel  of  the  Christian  faith. 
Have  we  in  Christ,  and,  to  a  lesser  decree,  in  His 
antecedents  and  enviroiuin'iit,  a  unic[ue  Divine 
revelation,  a  unique  Divine  iiiliiii|>ti(in?  Then 
how  is  the  historian  to  di-al  with  i  hi  i^t  '.' 

6.  The  question  is  more  familiar  in  its  less  for- 
midable shape,  as  regards  miracles.  (1)  It  maj'  be 
held  that  facts  convince  us  of  miracle.  History 
makes  its  investigation,  and  bears  witness.  It 
cannot  demonstrate,  but  it  announces  a  satisfac- 
tory probability.  This  is  the  attitude  generally 
taken  up  by  British  scholars,  e.g.  in  Dr.  Sanday's 
recent  Criticism  of  the  Fourth  Gospel  (though  lie 
has  the  wider  as  well  as  the  narrower  problem 
before  him).  (2)  Secondly,  there  is  the  claim  of  dog- 
matic naturalism— '  miriicles  do  not  happen';  for 
history,  the  mii'aele  narrative  is  an  interesting  and 
instructive  problem,  the  miracle  itself  a  hallucina- 
tion a  priori,  be  the  alleged  evidence  what  it  may. 
This  mood  of  mind  is  sometimes  confessed,  but 
much  oftener  is  silently  at  work  behind  a  disguise. 
(3)  There  is  an  attempt  by  Harnark  In  j-(riki>  out 
a  teHium  quid:  'The  historian  caiiiinl  rcunrd  a 
miracle  as  a  sure  given  histori<;il  cxrui  :  Un-  in 
doing  so  he  destroys  the  mode  ul  <cjii~i.hi;iti(ni  on 
which  all  historical  investiuatiiiii  I'-N.'  Ili  li.  t  in 
miracle  is  due  to  the  'unh|in'  ini|irr~^i,in  '  ,,H  'hrisr,- 
person,  though  'there  lias  srhhnn  h.  i n  a  slinir.: 
religious  faith  which  wiaihl  not  Innc  .lra\Mi  Ihr 
conclusion '  that  Christ  wrought  mirat-h'-  i //     '   ., 

Dogma,  vol.  i.  Eng.  tr.  p.  65,  note),     'lln      

to  mean  that  history  is  prevented  frniu  i  Jj, 
with  miracles  by  limitations  of  itsown,— iiinu.iin.ii., 
which  do  not  necessarily  imply  the  absence  of 
miracle  from  the  world  of  real  events.  (4)  Against 
the  point  of  view  which  excludes  miracles  a  priori, 
we  might  set  a  point  of  view  which  welcomes  them 
a  priori  as  congruous  to  a  Di\'ine  revelation  and 
Divine  redemption.  They  are  only  signs  —  not 
the  Divine  content  itself ;  but  are  they  not  fit 
signs  ? 

7.  On  a  first  inspection,  none  of  the  views  named  is 
definitelv  anti-Christian  unless  the  second.  Natur- 
alism, which  refuses  miracle  out  and  out,  is  plainly 
pledged  in  logic  to  deny  revelation.  But,  as  we 
nave  said,  the  importance  of  the  whole  matter 
lies  in  its  further  implications.  The  same  difficult 
decision  is  called  for — not  face  to  face  with  miracle, 
but  face  to  face  with  the  Christ.  And  the  logic  of 
the  <^irrf  position — the  logic  which  leads  Harnack, 
while  believing  in  revelation,  to  ban  miracle  as  a 
thing  the  historian  must  not  touch — will  inevitably 
be  applied  by  others  to  Jesus  Himself.  They  will 
repeat  or  extend  the  claim  to  be  historians,  thorough 
historians,  nothing  but  historians.  They  will  de- 
scribe the  teacher  of  Nazareth,  the  martyr  of 
Calvary ;  but  the  Christ  of  God  will  be  a  magni- 
tude as  inaccessible  to  them  as  physical  miracle  is  to 
Dr.  Harnack  (cf .  art.  '  Jesus '  in  £ncyc.  Bibl. ).    And 


if  he  is  in  the  right,  who  can  say  that  they  are 
wrong  ?  Analysis  must  go  on  to  the  end,  and  that 
great  stumbling-block,  the  supernatural,  be  re- 
vealed plain  in  our  path.  Even  if  not  formally 
declared  an  impossibdity,  supernatural  revelation 
or  redemption  will  be  politely  waved  aside  as 
irrelevant  to  the  histoi'ian. 

8.  There  is  no  question  more  Important  at  the 
present  moment  than  this.  What  is,  e.g.,  a  'his- 
torical '  view  of  the  NT  ?  Is  it  a  view  of  the  NT 
in  its  historical  actuality,  looked  at  round  and 
round  ?  Or  is  it  a  view  hampered  by  the  limita- 
tions of  one  of  the  special  sciences  ?  Ambiguity  is 
always  dangerous.  People  omit  the  Divine  '  Word ' 
under  pretext  of  the  second  deiinitioii — That  lies 
beyond  the  historian's  province  !  But  presently 
they  are  found  implying  Qxejirst  definition.  History 
tells  us  everything  !  There  is  no  Divine  '  Word ' 
at  all — no  supernatural  salvation. 

9.  If  history  does  not  give  full  truth,  what  does  ? 
We  shall  probably  be  t<jld,  Metaphysics.  The  only 
court  of  appeal  I'loiii  '  scii'utific  fact'  is  'meta- 
physical reality.'  M.  taphy-ics  is  certainly  pledged 
to  many-sidediic  — ,  tn  all-idcdness.  But  the  ques- 
tion remains,  Iluw  Itir  i.an  metaphysics  discharge 
its  task  ?  And,  again,  Can  it  do  justice  to 
the  Christian  origins  ?  Idealistic  interpreters  of 
Christianity_  are  very  willing  to  undertake  the 
championship  of  the  Christ  idea  (e.g.  Pfleiderer), 
but  their  patronage  is  not  extended  to  the  Christ 
fact.  At  any  rate  the  majority,  and  those  who 
know  their  business  best,  are  found  reducing  Jesus 
of  Nazareth  to  a  .iijnihnt,  xery  vaguely  connected 
with  any  aliiiliiii;  s|iiritual  reality.  To  a  philo- 
sophical inter]iriliv  i(  iiiiiains  ' tooli.sliness  that 
the  Divine  Word  literally  and  in  deed  became fle.<!h. 
If  the  professional  historian  verges  upon  EliioniMu, 
his  philosophical  colleague  rarely  escapes  [i.Hiiism. 
Neither  of  these  positions  amounts  to  hi-loiiial 
Christianity,  which,  amid  increasing  unceilaint  y  in 
detail,  may  and  ought  to  have  increasing  certainty 
in  the  fundamental  outlines. 

10.  In  the  present  writer's  judgment  the  attempt 
to  make  history  a  special  science,  too  coy  or  too 
seientilie  to  dea'l  with  a  (possibly  real)  supernatural, 
is  li(i|„dessly  .artilieial.  Scientific  history  must 
de(il  with  ail  till'  demonstrable,  nay,  with  all  the 
I'liihahle,  e\eiits  nf  the  real  past.  This  may  inter- 
1'  1  ■  with  the  rounded  symmetry  of  the  science; 

if  :ili  loss,  if  it  gives  us  wider  and  truer  know- 
i,L;e  !  Further,  the  writer's  own  belief  is  that 
Uiut  a  Christian  bias,  but)  a  Christian  interpreta- 
tion is  indispensable  ;  or,  that  experience  Dears 
its  witness  (cf.  the  fourth  position,  §  6,  as  against 
the  first ;  still,  he  recognizes  that  many  Christians 
and  many  useful  theoloyical  workers  will  find 
themselves  alile  in  nininiiin  the  first  position,  and 
will  prefer  it).  1 1  i  | ..  i  h  ,  i  ly  true  that  faith  mis- 
leads and  overndeali/e^  (Dr!  Moff'att) ;  yet  that 
is  a  half-truth,  or  rather  it  is  much  less  than  the 
half.  Better  a  dazzled  faith  tl 
Amid  superficial  errors,  Christ 
essential  truth.  Amid  snneili 
Christian  hist. Brians  (an. 1  noii-Cl 
no  lesH  ilii.,w  a«a\   tli->   I.,  rii.' 

—to    a    Chlisti;.!!       ii.-    1-  .ih.T 

in  tlie  ahslra.d.  Iln.lin-  ..I  hi 
in  the  fellowship  of  .l.'^n-  ('hri~ 
'  This  is  the  true  Gnd  an. I  .f.i 

11.  One  form  of  ]>uttiny  tin.-; 
dence  of  later  Christian  hit. 
development.-,  .'njiiiii-t  i  li.>  :ii:ii 
of  Cliristian  ...ij.ii..  Clni-!  h:i 
havem..aiitt..inni..l.  :.  w.-i-hi 
Germans  can  J. nt  this  in  a,  j.hr; 
liohe  Christus '  versus  'der  sogenannte  historische 
Jesus'  (Kahler).  There  is  a  measure  of  truth  in 
this.     Indeed,  it  is  bad  history  to  forget,  in  study- 


'  blind  unbelief.' 
faith  grtisps  the 
aeiuraiies,  non- 
tian  i.liil..-n|ihers 


.,1    s..l>llieevi- 

,\  ith   it-,  known 

m.jdern  study 

iii.led,  and  must 

(  hurch  !    The 

.Icr  geschicht- 


HOLINESS 


HOLIKESS 


ing  origins,  wliereunto  the  origins  grew.  On  the 
other  hand,  the  appeal,  put  forward  without  quali- 
fication, helps  the  Higli  Churchmen,  if  not  the 
Ultraraontanes.  The  Church  of  history  is  sacer- 
dotal !  Protestant  evangelical  Christians  are  forced 
by  their  faith,  by  their  experience,  into  a  fruitful 
alliance  with  sober  all-round  history.  Like  the 
Keformers,  we  must  go  back  to  the  primary  revela- 
tion. Christianity,  as  the  world  knows  it,  is  not 
the  measure  of  Christ,  nor  His  worthy  interpreter. 
'  Hear  ye  Him  ! '  Robert  Mackintosh. 

HOLINESS.— The  word  'holy'  is  etymologically 
connected  with  'whole,'  'hale,'  'healthy,'  etc.  (cf. 
Ger.  heilsam,  hcilig).  Modern  lexicographers  hesi- 
tate to  speak  with  certainty  in  regard  to  the  primi- 
tive meaning  of  the  root  whence  this  group  of 
words  is  derived.  Murray's  Eng.  Diet,  is  content 
to  equate  'holy'  -with  the  Lat.  sanctus,  sacer,  on 
the  ground  that  'we  cannot  in  Old  English  get 
behind  the  Christian  sense.'  It  is  probable  that 
the  sense-development  is  either  from  hxiilo,  i.e.  in- 
violate, inviolable,  that  which  must  be  preserved 
whole ;  or  from  hail  in  the  sense  of  health,  well- 
being. 

In  all  the  passages  to  which  reference  will  be 
made,  the  Greek  word  is  fiyios  or  one  of  its  deriva- 
tives, with  the  exception  of  Ac  2='  13==,  Lk  1«,  He 
T"",  where  Scnos  or  baibrrji  is  found.  In  Acts  the 
words  of  Ps  16'°  are  quoted  twice  ;  '  thy  Holy  One ' 
is  a  title  of  the  Messiah  to  whom  i^re-eminently 
belongs  the  OT  designation  of  the  theocratic 
nation, — ol  Strioi  toO  Beov,  God's  pious  ones.  '  The 
Bo-ios,  the  German /romm,  is  one  who  reverences  the 
everlasting  sanctities  and  owns  their  obligation' 
(Trench,  Synonyms  of  the  NT,  §  ,lxxxviii.).  In 
Lk  1~=  'holiness'  and  'righteousness'  are  closely 
associated,  as  is  frequently  the  case  both  in  classi- 
cal and  biblical  usage.  The  words  are  comple- 
mentary, though  the  sharp  distinction  drawn  by 
Plato  (Gorgias,  507  B)  cannot  be  maintained :  in  the 
NT  'righteousness'  cannot  be  limited  to  duties 
toward  men,  nor  can  'holiness'  be  restricted  to 
duties  toward  God.  Righteousness  is  the  man- 
ward,  as  holiness  is  the  Godward  aspect  of  pious 
character  and  conduct.  Hence  Jesus,  our  High 
Priest,  is  'holy'  (He  7"');  in  His  filial  reverence 
and  in  His  devotion  to  His  Fatliov's  will  there  is 
no  flaw;  He  is,  therefore,  litti.l  in  :i|,|„  .n-  in  the 
presence  of  God  to  do  prii'siU'  -.ni.r  mi  our 
behalf.  The  LXX  usually  r._-n.lci^  r:-  i  ■  -mlly '  or 
'  beloved ')  by  iVios  (Dt  33»,  '2  «  L'-i^",  Ps  4^  etc. ), 
but  B^nj;  is  generally  translated  Hyios  (Ex  19",  Nu 
6^  Ps  15S  etc.). 

Both  ^7105  and  u'lin  are  used  when  holiness  is 
ascribed  to  God  as  well  as  to  persons  and  things. 
The  question,  therefore,  arises— What  is  the  pri- 
mary meaning  which  underlies  and  connects  these 
different  applications  of  the  word  ?  If  the  funda- 
mental idea  is  separation,  the  progress  of  thought 
is  from  the  negative  to  the  positive,  from  men  and 
things  to  God,  fi'om  the  cleansing  which  is  an 
essential  qualification  for  use  in  the  service  of  God 
to  puiitv  .K  111'-  c  i-ntral  attribute  of  God  Himself. 
But  ii  till-  luinlunicntal  idea  is  essential  Divinity, 
separiilioii  l).r.>i]u's  a  derivative  conception;  the 
progress  of  thought  is  then  from  the  positive  to 
the  negative,  from  God  to  external  things  and 
persons.  Every  thing  devoted  to  God  must  be 
separated  from  profane  or  common  uses  ;  and  every 
person  devoted  to  God  is  not  only  thus  set  apart, 
but  is  also  under  moral  obligation  to  fit  himself  for 
drawing  near  to  God  by  separating  himself  from 
all  that  is  sinful. 

Those  who  regard  separation  as  the  radical 
meaning  of  (£7105  make  it  almost  synonymous  with 
ayp6s,  which  signifies  mire,  and  sets  forth  a  nega- 
tive conception  of  holiness.    Stevens  (Hastings'  DB 


ii.  399)  follows  Trench,  and  interprets  1  Jn  3'— e/ceri/os 
d7i'65  ea-Tiv — of  God.  But,  as  Westcott  {Cotn.  in  loc.) 
points  out,  ^KeiKos  in  this  Epistle  always  refers  to 
Christ ;  it  is  in  respect  of  His  true  humanity  that 
it  can  be  said  '  He  is  pure,'  and  not  only  '  He  was 
pure.'  In  His  glorified  state  '  the  result  of  the 
perfection  of  His  earthly  discipline  (He  S'"')  still 
abides.'  According  to  St.  John,  a  'hope  set  on' 
(RV)  Christ  is  a  constant  incentive  to  strive  after 
lioliness ;  and  the  standard  by  which  the  disciple 
will  always  measure  his  attainments  is  the  perfect 
purity  of  his  Lord.  Few  will  doubt  the  soundness 
of  the  inference  which  Westcott  bases  on  his  ex- 
position of  this  verse  and  on  his  study  of  the 
words : 

'  Both  otyv6i  and  xaSxpo?  differ  from  ciyier  in  that  they  admit 
the  thought  or  the  fact  of  temptation  or  pollution  ;  while  ij-n.- 
describes  tliat  which  is  holy  absolutely,  either  in  itself  or  in 
idea.  God  can  be  spol^en  of  as  xyw;  but  not  as  i>-v(j>,  while 
Christ  can  be  spoken  of  as  ij-.o;  in  virtue  of  the  perfection  of 
His  humanity.  A  man  is  Uyio;  in  virtue  o£  his  Divine  destina- 
tion (He  lOiO)  to  which  he  is  gradually  conformed  (iyiiZirxi, 
He  lOW) ;  he  is  iytk  in  virtue  of  earthly,  human  discipline." 

This  clear  and  helpful  distinction  assumes  that 
the  primary  meaning  of  07105  must  be  sought  in 
the  revelation  of  the  essential  nature  of  God  ;  the 
various  meanings  of  27105  may  thus  be  traced  in 
orderly  sense-development  from  its  root  ri  4705, 
'religious  awe,'  'reverence.'  'Holy  is  his  name' 
(Lk  l-")  is  the  starting-point ;  things  and  persons 
are  holy  by  reason  of  their  being  destined  for 
Divine  uses  ;  the  secondary  meaning  of  separation 
from  defilement  arises  at  a  later  stage,  as  clearer 
perception  of  the  nature  of  tied  also  reveals  the 
need  of  preparation  for  His  service  by  cleansing 
from  all  impurity. 

This  conclusion  must  be  tested  by  a  brief  study  of  the  Jewish 
conception  of  holiness.  The  et.vmology  of  E'np  (LXX  generally 
ciyio;,  sometimes  xxBapoi,  never  o<rio,-)  is  disputed.  Little  can  be 
learnt  from  the  use  of  cognate  words  by  non-Israelitish  peoples. 
The  profound  and  indeed  unique  meaning  of  holiness  in  the 
religion  of  revelation  can  be  ascertained  only  from  a  careful 
investigation  of  the  phraseology  of  the  OT  writer's.  An  excel- 
lent sketch  of  the  probable  history  of  the  word,  which  assumes 
that  its  fundamental  idea  is  separation,  is  given  in  Sanday- 
Headlam's  Romans  (note  on  1') ;  but  it  is  acknowledged  that 
'  there  is  a  certain  element  of  conjecture  .  .  .  which  is  inevit- 
able from  the  fact  that  the  earlier  staires  in  the  history  of  the 
word  had  been  already  gone  through  when  Ihe  Hebrew  litera- 
ture begins.'    There  is,  therefore,  scope  for  further  inquiry. 

KitteUPfl-ES  vii.  606  ff.)  maintains  that  the  root-idea  of  the 
word  is  positive.  Things  are  not  holy  because  they  are  separated 
from  other  things;  they  are  separated  from  other  things  because 
they  are  holy.  When  holiness  is  ascribed  to  vessels,  animals  for 
saci-iflce,  etc.,  either  order  of  thought  is  suitable.  But  this  is 
not  the  case  when,  e.g.,  the  temple,  Zion,  and  heaven  are  called 
holy ;  they  are  holy  because  they  arc  the  abode  of  God.  If  the 
primary  meaning  of  holy  is  titat  which  hrlt'iKis  to  iiod  and  is 
devoted  to  Uis  sei-vicc.  persons  may  be  called  holy  who  stand  in 
a  close  relation  to  God,  inasmuch  as  the\-  are  in  a  special  sense 
His  servants.  Verv  instru'ti\c  is  Nu  Ki-'  '  In  the  morning  the 
Lord  will  show  who  are  his,  and  wlio  is  holy.'  As  applied  to 
persons  and  to  the  nation,  holiness  acquired  a  deeper  signi- 
ficance. In  the  Law  of  Holiness  (Lv  17ff.)  the  command,  'Ye 
shall  be  holy ;  for  I  the  Lord  your  God  am  holy '  (Lv  192),  is 
seen  to  in\oi\c  both  exttrn;il  requirements  referring  to  ritual, 
and  inward  requiremcnl  -  m  firiinu  (-■  n-i  il  .  lui  ,mI'  r. 

The  holiness  of  Gwl  ^  :     '      1      :  1    i  !•<  primary. 

His    'essential    Divinn  K  1  ids    with 

Bengel's  saying  that  (I'i  -     :       M  '1  holiness. 


idea  of  holir 
of  the  idea 


\olution 


Goii,  and  : 


1  liclore  the  J^ord,  iiiis  h...,\  I....I  -  iNone  may 
approach  Iliin  sa\  e  those  who  have  complied  with  the  pre- 
scribed regulations  (cf.  1  S  216).  As  the  moral  nature  of  God 
was  more  clearlv  apprehended,  the  conception  of  His  holiness 
was  spirituahzed ;  in  Hos  ■•"  "  -  ^-'  — ' 
Holv  One  in  the  midst  r.f  fh 
motive  of  the  resolve,  '  I  > 
city,'  Kittel  rightly  .li  : 
ness  :  'Glory'  is  a  comh 
outshining  of  His  altril  Ui 


be  metaphysical 


HOLINESS 


HOLINESS 


moral ;  but  '  holiness  '  has  ahva 


The  fact  that  the  conception  of  holiness  varies  with  the 
ception  of  God  explains  the  occasional  deterioration  of  the  idea. 
When  stress  was  laid  ujjon  the  transcendence  of  God,  stress 
was  also  laid  upon  ritual  purity.  But,  in  general,  later  Jewish 
teaching  has  insisted  upon  moral  as  well  as  ceremonial  purity 
as  being  essential  qualifications  for  the  service  of  the  Holy  One 
of  Israel.  Rightly  to  understand  the  meaning  of  '  holy '  as  used 
by  our  Lord  and  His  contemporaries,  it  is  needful  to  remember 
that  for  rabbinical  Judaism  holiness  became  '  synonymous  with 
purity  of  life,  purity  of  action,  and  purity  of  thought'  (see 
Jewish  Enci/c.  vi.  44ii>).  Holiness  is  'an  ideal  state  of  perfec- 
tion attained  only  by  God'  (Jerus.  Ber.  ix.  13a);  but  'man 
grows  in  holiness  the  more  he  aspires  to  the  Divine  will,  rising 
above  the  sensual '  ( ]'.»/i«,  3!)a).  Dalman  says  (Words  of  Jesus, 
p.  202)  that '  the  Holiness '  (iripn)  became  a  Divine  title  (Siphre, 
Num.  112,  ed.  Friedm.  33(t). 

The  NT  passages  which  fall  wthin  the  limits  of 
(his  article  may  be  classified  according  as  (1)  holi- 
ness is  ascribed  to  things,  places,  or  persons  by  («) 
the  Evangelists,  {b)  our  Lord ;  (2)  holiness  is 
ascribed  to  Christ  (a)  in  the  Acts,  (6)  in  the 
Epistles. 

1.  Holiness  in  the  Gospels. — [a]  The  Evangelists 
speak  of  -the  In.ly  i-ity'  (Mt  4=  27"^),  'the  holy 
place'  (Mt  124''),  '  his  holy  covenant'  (Lk  V-):  Jeru- 
salem and  the  temple  are  holy,  as  being  the  abode 
of  God  ;  the  covenant  made  with  Abraham  is  holy, 
as  being  a  revelation  of  the  gi-acious  purpose  of 
God  in  choosing  a  people  to  serve  Him  in  holiness 
(Lk  1'° ;  see  above  on  oc^i&Ttjs).  Persons  are  de- 
scribed a.s  holy,  because  they  are  devoted  to  God's 
service :  in  the  Gospels  mention  is  made  of  '  the 
holy  angels '  (Mk  8*,  Lk  9-'),  '  his  holy  prophets ' 
(Lk  1™),  and  Herod  is  said  to  have  recognized  the 
holiness  of  John  the  Baptist  (Mk  6-°) ;  in  such 
uses  of  the  word  there  is  included  an  assertion  of 
the  moral  pm-ity  which  is  an  essential  qualification 
for  the  service  of  God.  In  Lk  2"  an  OT  quotation 
(Ex  13°)  explains  that  the  offering  of  the  parents 
of  Jesus,  when  they  presented  their  child  to  the 
Lord  in  the  temple,  was  a  recognition  of  the  fact 
that  every  firstborn  son  was  holy  as  belonging  to 
God.  The  ascription  of  holiness  to  the  Divine 
Spirit  (Mt  1"  etc.)  will  be  considered  in  paragraph 
(b) ;  but  here  it  may  be  noted  that  in  the  story  of 
the  Annunciation  (Lk  I'"'),  JMary  is  told  that  the 
Holy  Spirit  shall  come  upon  lil-r  witli  the  result 
that  her  child  shall  be  holy  {t6  yewunfvov  ayiov) ; 
and  that  once  (4')  Jesus  is  d'esiriljecl  a.s  '  full  of  the 
Holy  Spirit.'  In  Mk  I-''  =  Lk  4-'''  the  man  with  an 
unclean  spirit  calls  Christ  '  the  Holy  One  of  God,' 
and  according  to  the  true  text  Simon  Peter  uses 
the  same  title  (Jn  6®').  The  phrase  is  a  designa- 
tion of  the  Messiali,  described  by  John  (10'")  as 
'  him  whom  the  Father  consecrated '  {ijyiaae.  For 
this  and  other  uses  of  ayid^av  see  art.  Consecra- 
tion). Finally,  holiness  is  ascribed  to  God  in  the 
Magnificat,  and  the  whole  context  ('his  mercy,' 
etc.)  shows  that  'holy  is  his  name'  (Lk  1''^)  is  a 
declaration  of  the  moral  glory  of  God. 

(6)  Our  Lord  never  speaks  of  any  person,  save 
the  Father  and  the  Spirit,  as  holy  ;  and  only  once 
does  He  describe  any  thing  as  holy.  His  command, 
'  Give  not  that  which  is  holy  to  the  dogs '  (Mt  7"), 
is  a  proverbial  expression  whose  origin  is  probably 
some  Jewish  exclamation  of  liorror  at  the  thought 
of  profaning  altar-flesh,  wliicli  liad  been  offered  in 
sacrifice  to  God  (Lv  23<^<'-  LXX  rd  dyia).  A  similar 
saying  is  quoted  from  Aristotle  :  '  Do  not  fling 
wisdom  into  the  street'  {fi-fire  pi^f/ai  aoiplav  eh  toi/s 
rpidSovi  ap  Themist   p  234) 

The  appl  cation  of  our  I  or  1  «     n   \  1  not  he  1  mited  to 

preichers  of  the  go=<]  d     a    I  11  e      lo  not 

sanct  on   an\  doctr  ne  of  r  of  tr  th  ; 

not  to  be  exposed  to  th  I      I     e       John 

Wesley  s  con     ent  {^  \     \          1  pert  nent : 

'Beware  of  th  nk         I  II    IIU  on  t  U  there 

is  full  and  mconte  til  an  1  Llonous  ttuths' 


of  sins  and  the  gift  of  the  Holy  Ghost.  .  .  .  The  most  probable 
way  to  make  Felix  tremble  is  to  reason  with  him  of  righteous- 
ness, temperance,  and  judgment  to  come.' 

In  each  of  the  four  Gospels  there  are  passages 
in  which  our  Lord  speaks  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  viz. 
Mt_12'=  iiS''-",  Mk  3^"  1236  1311^  Lk  V^"-''-,  Jn  U^s 
20-^.  In  so  speaking  He  definitely  ascribes  esisen- 
tial  Divinity  to  the  Spirit.  Not  in  this  way 
could  He  have  spoken  of  'a  created  Intelligence 
above  the  an.i;els "  l.ut  inferior  to  Himself.  More- 
over, this  Divini'  .i-i'iit  is  distiiii^uished  both  from 
the  Father  wlio  scimIs  jlim,  and  from  the  Son  in 
whose  name  He-  is  stiit  :  uiid  in  tlic  NT  the  phrase 
which  normally  describes  Him — 'the  Holy  Spirit' 
— ascribes  to  Him  the  essential  attributes  of  Deity, 
the  moral  glory  of  God. 

In  this  sense  Dalman's  words  (o?3.  cit.  p.  202  f.)  must  be  under- 
stood when  he  says,  '  As  regards  content,  there  is  no  difference 
between  "  Spirit  of  God  "  and  "  Holy  .Spirit."  '  He  is  careful  to 
point  out  that,  as  '  the  Holiness '  had  become  a  Divine  title,  '  it 
might  readily  be  supposed  that  in  the  term  N^iliJ  nn  "  the  Holy 
Spirit,"  the  word  N^hij  became  in  reality  a  name  for  God,  so 
that  TO  Tvisj/Mc  rou  hod  would  represent  it  more  accurately  than 
TO  TcSfnn  TO  ii],m.  But  in  that  case  terms  like  Tfifl-i^  nn  "thy 
holy  spirit"  (Ps  61U),  TiiJ"!  Nnn  "my  holy  spirit"  (Targ.  Is 
421),  would  be  impossible. '  'And  yet  it  must  be  maintained  that 
the  addition  of  NE'li?  is  expressly  meant  to  specify  Divinity  as 
an  attribute  of  the  Spirit.'    See,  further.  Holy  Spirit. 

The  last  recorded  example  of  our  Lord's  use  of 
the  word  '  holy '  is  in  His  intercessory  prayer.  He 
who  never  called  any  human  being  '  holy '  prays 
that  His  disciples  may  attain  unto  holiness.  His 
petitions  are  both  negative  and  positive  :  from  the 
corruptions  of  the  world  He  asks  that  they  may 
be  kept  in  the  name  (Jn  17"  EV)  which  in  its 
fulness  it  had  been  His  mission  to  reveal.  But  it 
is  not  enough  for  them  to  be  kept  from  entering 
the  domain  of  the  Evil  One  (Jn  IV^  ^k  toC  -jrovripou, 
of.  1  Jn  5'*'  '  the  whole  world  lieth  in  the  evil 
one').  If  they  are  to  continue  Christ's  work,  they 
must  be  partakers  of  His  holiness,  for  only  in 
complete  devotion  of  all  their  powers  to  the  service 
of  God  can  they  share  their  Master's  joy.  Hence 
He  also  asks,  as  in  absolute  self-sacrifice  He  con- 
secrates Himself,  that  '  they  themselves  also  may 
be  consecrated  in  truth '  (Jn  17'").  In  these  peti- 
tions the  love  of  Christ  for  His  own  finds  full 
expression,  and  they  are  fitly  introduced  by  the 
unique  phrase  '  Holy  Father '  (cf.  '  Father,'  v.^  and 
'  rigliteous  Father,'  v.*^).  In  this  glorious  name  of 
God  '  all  excellences  meet ';  purity  and  tenderness 
unite,  majesty  and  pity  conibine.  Christ  regards 
this  all-sufficient  knowledge  of  God  as  'an  ideal 
region  of  security,' in  which  His  disciples  will  be 
safe  from  harm.  As  long  as  they  are  'in  the 
name,'  it  will  be  impossible  for  thoughts  of  God's 
holiness  to  suggest  that  it  is  dangerous  to  approach 
the  Holy  Father  (cf.  1  S  6™  2P,  and  see  above). 
Nor  can  the  revelation  in  Christ  of  His  '  pitying 
tenderness  Divine  '  lead  to  sinful  presuming  on  His 
grace,  a,nd  to  neglect  of  moral  purity,  without 
which  none  may  hold  communion  with  the  Holy 
Father.  Therefore,  as  in  the  OT  the  conception 
of  holiness  varies  vith  the  i  (>n(e]ition  of  God,  so 
in  the  NT  llie  ilininx  "i  tlie  ie\elation  of  the 
Father  in  the  Sen  is  n-.i.lieil  i]i  tlie  harmonizing 
of  the  '  niaiu'-lnied  '  manifestations  (ef.  TroKvirolKiXos, 
Eph  3'")  of  'His  glory  in  tlie  pure,  white  light  of 
His  holy  love.  The  opening  petitions  of  the 
Lord's  frayer  teach  that  His  Kingdom  will  come 
arid  His  will  be  done  '  as  in  heaven,  so  on  earth,' 
when  in  His  Church  on  earth  as  in  heaven  the 
name  of  the  Holy  Father  is  hallowed  (Mt  6'<''A7iaff- 
0i)rio  rb  6vofid.  aov  .   .   .   ws  ev  ovpav^  /fat  (irl  yijs). 

2.  The  holiness  of  Christ.— Outside  the  Gospels 
holiness  is  ascribed  to  Christ  in  the  Acts  and  the 
Epistles.— (a)  The  Acts.  St.  Peter  (2^)  and  St. 
Paul  (13^^)  see  in  the  resurrection  of  Jesus  proof 


730 


HOLINESS 


HOLY  ONE 


that  He  is  God's  •  Holy  One,'  in  whom  is  fulfilled 
the  Messianic  promise  that  He  should  not  see 
coiTuption  (Ps  16'";  RVm  renders  Tp?  'godly  or 
beloved,'  see  above  on  oaios).  In  the  prayer  ot  the 
early  Church,  Jesus  is  twice  described  as  Jehovah's 
'  Holy  Servant '  (4'-^-  ■*'),  and  it  is  probable  that  St. 
Peter  has  in  mind  Is  53  when  he  speaks  of  Jesus 
as  '  the  Holy  and  Righteous  One '  (3",  cf.  y.").  In 
these  passages  ^7105  is  applied  to  the  ideal  Servant, 
in  whose  consecration,  even  unto  death,  Gods 
moral  glory  was  revealed. — (6)  The  Eputle.i.  Onr 
High  Priest,  for  ever  'separated  from  sinners,'  is 
'  holy '  (He  7^).  Here  oirios  is  a  comprehensive 
summary  of  those  inward  qualities  which  were 
manifested  by  oui-  Lord's  dutiful  submission  to 
His  Father's  will ;  pre-eminently  He  was  '  pure  in 
heart,'  fitted  to  exercise,  in  the  presence  of  God, 
His  ministry  of  intercession.  In  Ko  1^  '  the  spirit 
of  holiness '  is  not  a  synonym  of  Holy  Spirit ; 
holiness  is  ascribed  to  tlie  spirit  of  the  Incarnate 
Son.  The  irveviia  of  Christ  was  human  ;  in  this 
respect  He  was  '  made  like  unto  his  brethren ' 
(He  2") ;  but  His  spirit  was  holy,  and  in  that  He 
was  'without  sin'  (4'''),  He  was  unique  among 
men.  His  'spirit  of  lii.liuess'  was  'the  seat  of  the 
Di\'ine  naturf';  11.-  \\,is  tilled  with  the  Holy 
Spirit,  and  lu-iiiu:  •  1— (•iiti;illv  filled  with  God'  was 
'full  of  Diviiir  uii|i.illiii,  .1  life'  (of.  Meyer,  Com. 
inloc).  St.  I'aul  ■IitI,  r  ,  i|i:  ;  u  \,;is  incomplete 
accord  (/i-aTd)  with  till'   1  li.iliness  which 

was  thecharacteriziii  J  ■  ,  -jarit  of  Christ 

that  His  Divine  Sdii-li  p  !h  ;  :  ic  visibly  mani- 
fested in  the  miracle  of  His  reMirrection.  In  1  Jn 
021)  'Ye  have  an  anointing  (xp'o'Ma)  from  the  Holj- 
One,'  the  reference  may  possibly  be  to  God  the 
Father ;  but  almost  certainly  the  Holy  One  is 
Christ  (cf.  3'  '  He  is  pure,'  and  see  above).  The 
true  reading  in  v.^  [avrov  not  t6  axn-b),  '  His  anoint- 
ing,' seems  to  remove  all  ambiguity.  St.  John 
says  that  Christians  have  a  chrism  from  the  Christ ; 
and  there  can  be  little  doubt  that  the  predominant 
reference  in  chrism  is  to  the  Holy  Spirit.  It  is  '  a 
faint  prelusive  note,'  and  in  3^  '  the  fuU  distinct 
mention  of  the  Holy  Spirit  comes  like  a  bur.st  of 
the  music  of  the  "  Veni  Creator,"  carrying  on  the 
fainter  prelude '  {Exjios.  Bible,  p.  170). 

The  chief  contributions  to  the  formal  exposition 
of  the  NT  doctrine  of  holiness  lie  beyond  the 
limits  of  this  article.  It  need  occasion  no  surprise 
that  even  to  His  disciples  our  Lord  should  not 
speak  directly  concerning  holiness  until  in  His 
farewell  prayer  He  asked  that  tlu'  men  called  to 
continue  His  mission  nii^ht  ^li.irc  His  consecration. 
The  reason  for  His  retiniuf  i>  that  ■  in  Him,  and 
for  them,  holiness  imiiorted  sniD.rhiii^— far  more 
and  other  than  it  did  in  the  iL-lii^inii  ,if  tlie  day. 
.  .  .  Only  as  they  saw  their  l.crJ  .Irvdto  His 
person  in  the  consummating  sarriliir  «oiil(l  they 
be  prepared  to  realize  what  tlitir  Christian  conse- 
cration involved'  (Fimllay,  Expositor,  vi.  [1901] 
iv.  5).  It  is  also  significant  that  the  prayer  for 
His  disciples'  holiness  should  immediately  follow 
the  discourse  in  wliich  our  Lord  expounds  in  wel- 
come detail  what  is  involved  in  the  promise  of  the 
Spirit  whose  gracious  indwelling  is  the  secret  of 
holiness. 

The  Gospels  are,  however,  the  supreme  revela- 
tion of  holiness.  The  imitation  of  Christ  is  the 
royal  road  to  holiness ;  His  teaching  concerning 
union  with  Himself  and  the  bestowment  of  the 
Holy  Spirit  reveals  the  secret  of  holiness.  The 
writers  of  the  Epistles,  under  the  jjuidance  of  the 
promised  Teacher,  unfolded  the  implications  of 
their  own  experience  and  the  purpose  of  the  In- 
carnation, the  Passion,  and  the  abiding  Priesthood 
of  the  Son  of  God. 

The  stress  laid  on  the  positive  idea,  which  is 
probably  the  primarj-  conception  of  holiness,  may 


serve  to  guard  Christians  against  the  en-or  of  sup- 
])osing  that  holiness  may  be  acquired  by  with- 
drawals and  negations,  or  by  compliance  with 
external  regulations.  Holiness  means  the  attain- 
ment of  the  Divine  likeness,  and  this  consists  in 
moral  qualitirs  wliirli  an-  all  luniprised  in  holy 
love.  The  iiH'iiM' ti)  liolin.v,  inrreases  in  strength 
as  God  is  iii.ti-  ]"  iii-rtlv  kiiouii.  In  proportion  as 
the  Holy  I'atlur  is  ki'iowii  as  He  is,  will  be  the 
gladness  of  our  response  to  His  claims,  and  the 
ardour  of  our  desire  to  be  like  Him  in  this  world. 
Into  the  world  Christ  sent  the  men  for  whose  con- 
secration He  prayed,  and  His  promise,  'Ye  shall 
know  that  ye  are  in  me'  (Jn  14^),  conveyed  to 
them  His  assurance  that '  in  the  world '  they  should 
attain  to  holiness.     Life  in  Christ  is  holiness. 


LiTERATLTiE. — In  addition  to  the  books  mentioned  in  the  body 
of  the  article,  see  the  Comm.  on  the  various  passa^s,  and  works 
on  Theol.  of  NT;  also  Grimm-Thayer  and  Cremer,  sw.  Uym;, 
oitik;  art.  'Holiness'  in  Hastings'" Z)B;   Issel,  Der  Begriff  tl. 


HOLY  ONE The  expression  'the  Holy  One,' 

or  '  the  Holy  One  of  God,'  is  used  several  tmies  in 
the  N'T  to  describe  our  Lord.  It  is  in  itself  so  re- 
markable, and  used  in  a  manner  so  calculated  to 
arrest  attention,  that  it  has  been  surmised  that  we 
have  here  a  characteristic  designation  of  the  Mes- 
siah (Meyer  on  Mk  1^).  While  it  may  be  doubteil 
if  so  positive  an  assertion  can  be  justified,  the  ex- 
pression is  sufficiently  striking  to  require  a  careful 
examination  into  its  origin  and  its  significance. 

A  scrutiny  of  the  pa.ssages  in  which  the  AY  has 
rendered  the  Greek  expression  by  '  the  Holy  One," 
will  show  that  for  the  word  'holy'  we  have  two 
Greek  words,  Sclos  and  dyios.  Now,  since  the  two 
passages  in  which  Saios  occurs  are  in  a  quotation 
from  the  LXX,  and  the  signification  of  the  term  is 
most  likely  to  be  derived  from  a  Hebrew  original, 
it  will  be  necessary  to  ask  if  these  two  words  are 
uniformly  used  to  represent  corresponding  Hebrew 
ones,  or  used  indiscriminately  to  tr.  different  Heb. 
words  in  difi"erent  places. 

In  the  OT  there  are  two  distinct  words  used  for  '  holy,'  Ton 
and  Einp,  and  it  is  to  be  carefully  noted  that  in  the  LXX, 
although  criK  tr.  Tpn  about  30  times,  and  Icyic:  tr.  pilj;  100 
times,  in  no  single  instance  is  iris;  used  for  I'n,?,  or  iyia  tor 
Ttn.    (See  Trench,  XT  Synoni/m.':). 

It  is  reasonable,  then,  to  look  for  the  signification  of  orie:  in 
Tpn,  and  iyio;  in  ernj).    See  art.  Holiness. 

A.  Passages  in  which  our  Lord  is  described  as 
'  Holy  One,'  Saios  being  used.  As  a  substantive 
expression  it  occurs  only  in  Ac  2^  13^ — in  both 
oases  a  quotation  fi'om  Ps  16'" — used  first  by  St. 
Peter  and  afterwards  by  St.  Paul,— oi)5^  Sdiacis  riv 
ujioi-  a-ov  iSeTf  Sta^idopdii.  Without  a  reference  to 
the  Helirew,  it  might  appear  that  such  an  expres- 
sion, taken  from  the  OT  and  ap|)lied  by  Apostles 
to  Clirist,  would  carry  with  it  peculiar  significance  ; 
but  beyond  the  fact"  tliat  the  Apostles  so  used  the 
expression,  there  is  nutiiing  in  the  word-  themselves 
to  justify  any  unique  position  in  w  hich  our  Lord  was 
described  as  '  holy.' 

B.  Passages  in  which  our  Lord  is  described  as 
'  Holy  One,'  ayios  being  used.  If  the  examination 
of  the  foregoing  passages  prevents  us  giWng  to  the 
word  dicrto!  any  peculiar  significance  which  would 
make  it  describe  our  Lord  as  a  bein''  of  peculiar 
lioliness,  the  case  is  quite  otherwise  when  we  come 
to  the  expression  6  dyios. 

1.  Use  of  the  title.— Vi'e  find  it  first  on  the  lips  of 
the  demoniac  (Mk  1=^,  Lk  4=^),  who,  in  declaring  his 
knowledge  of  Christ,  describes  Him  as  '  the  Holy 
One  of  God '  [otSd  at  ris  cf,  6  07105  too  GeoC).  The 
words  probably  made  a  deep  iminession  on  the  dis- 
ciples. We  loiow  how  vague  and  uncertain  were 
their  views  about  their  Master,  and  it  would  seem 


HOLY  SPIRIT 


HOLT  SPIEIT 


731 


as  if  they  seized  on  tlie  demoniac's  confession  as  a 
revelation  of  His  claims  ;  for,  the  next  time  the  title 
is  ascribed  to  Him,  it  is  hy  St.  Peter  himself,  when 
striving  to  find  words  to  answer  our  Lord's  question 
if  they  too  intended  to  abandon  Him :  '  Lord,  to 
whom  shall  we  go  ?  Thou  hast  the  words  of  eternal 
life.  And  we  have  believed  and  know  that  thou 
art  the  Holy  One  of  God '  (Sti  ai  d  6  dyios  toO  QeoO 
[so  correct  reading],  Jn  6""). 

St.  Peter,  in  his  speech  to  the  people  in  Solomon's 
porch  (Ac  S"),  charges  them  with  denying  '  the 
Holy  and  Righteous  One '  {Tdv  dyiof  Kal  diKaioi/).  St. 
John  (1  Jn  2'->')  tells  his  readers  that  they  have  'an 
anointing  from  the  Holy  One'  (d-n-o  toD  iyiov).  In 
Rev  3'  our  Lord  so  descrilies  Himself  in  the  address 
to  the  Church  of  Philadelphia  :  '  These  things  saith 
he  that  is  holy '  (rdSe  X^7ei  6  dyws). 

2.  Derivation  of  the  title. — We  have  seen  that 
the  significance  of  fiyios  is  naturally  to  be  looked 
for  in  the  Heb.  <i\iil,  which,  like  Tpn,  is  freely 
employed  of  places,  things,  and  persons.  Yet, 
while  Tpn  is  used  of  God  only  in  Jer  3'^  (LXX 
eXer^fiav)  and  Ps  145"  (LXX  6Vios),  where  it  is  joined 
v/itli  a  reference  to  His  works  ('holy  in  all  thy 
works '),  »hi;  is  used  very  frequently  to  ileseribe  Go(l 
Himself.  It  is  so  found  in  the  Boolis  of  Job,  Psalms, 
Isaiali,  Hosea,  and  Habakkuk,  tjiip  'the  Holy  One,' 
LXX  6  4710s.  Besides  the  simple  title  'the  Holy 
One,'  God  is  24  times  called  by  Isaiah  '  the  Holy 
One  of  Israel ' ;  elsewhere  only  in  Ps  71^=  78^'  89'", 
Jer  50-»  5P  [2  K  19"  =  Is  37^]  Sxns"  uiinp. 

3.  Iti  sigvifirrnvr  as  applied  to  our  Lord.— To 
men  familiar  willi  (lui  OT  expressions  'the  Holy 
One'  and  'thr  Holy  One  of  Israel,'  as  describing 
God  Himselt,  it.  would  .seem  almost  impo.ssibIe  that 
the  expression  could  liave  been  used  of  Christ  with- 
out a  distinct  desire  to  connect  His  title  with  that 
of  Jehovah.  Every  male  firstborn  was  indeed 
'  holy  to  the  Lord '  (Lk  2^*).  But  on  the  lips  of  St. 
Peter  and  the  demoniac  it  must  be  felt  to  have  that 
special  and  distinct  signiticanee  such  as  Jesus  Him- 
self implies  in  Jn  10'",  when  speaking  of  Himself  as 
one  'whom  the  Father  sanctilied  (r)ylaae)  and  sent 
into  the  world.'  Spokon  l.^-  our  Saviour  of  His 
Father  (Jn  17"),  il  -i'^uilirs  that  which  He  is  abso- 
lutely; spoken  of  <'liii-i  Himself,  it  means  both 
this  and  also  His  -piTial  il.Mlication  to  the  work  of 
man's  salvation  {r.fj.  in  Ko  12'  it  is  used  with  the 
forcv  of  a  saiiilirial  metaphor,  the  victim  con.se- 
(■r.aleil  to  (lod).  ('lirist  was  indeed  the  Holy  One 
of  C.a  aliove  all  others,  but  that  which  He  was  He 
came  in  a  measure  to  make  His  people,  so  that,  in 
the  language  of  the  NT,  those  who  through  Him 
were  consecrated  and  set  apart  were  also  oi  47101. 
See,  further,  art.  Holiness. 


riiTERATURE.— Trench,  NT  Synonyms,  §  1 


Lowe,  Psalms  ; 


HOLt  SPIRIT.- With  the  ( 


eption  of  the  2nd 


and  3rd  Epistles  of  John,  every  book  in  the  NT 
mentions  the  Spirit.  On  a  comprehensive  view, 
indeed,  it  may  be  said  that  to  understand  what  is 
meant  by  the  Spirit  is  to  understand  these  two 
things— the  NT  and  the  Christian  Church.  Not 
that  the  two  can  be  precisely  co-ordinated  ;  yet  in 
them  and  in  their  mutual  relations  we  have  the 
only  adequate  witness  to  what  the  Spirit  means 
for  Christians.  To  the  men  who  wrote  the  NT 
and  to  those  for  whom  they  wrote,  the  Spirit  was 
not  a  doctrine  but  an  experience ;  they  did  not 
speak  of  believing  in  the  Holy  Sjiirit,  but  of  receiv- 
hig  the  Holy  Spirit  when  they  believed  (Ac  19=). 
In  some  sense  tliis  covered  everything  that  they 
included  in  Christianity.  The  work  of  the  Christ 
w.as  summed  up  in  the  words  :  'He  shall  baptize 
with  holy  spirit  '  (Mk  1%     The  acceptance  of  the 


gospel  is  the  subject  of  the  question :  '  Was  it 
by  works  of  law  or  by  the  hearing  of  faith  that 
you  received  the  Spirit  ? '  (Gal  3=).  The  entire 
equality  of  .Jews  and  Gentiles  in  the  Christian 
community  is  asserted  in  the  words  :  '  God  who 
knows  the  heart  bore  them  witness  in  that  he  gave 
the  Holy  Spirit  to  them  even  as  he  did  to  us '  (Ac 
15").  After  this,  there  was  no  more  to  be  said. 
Yet  the  \'ery  fact  that  all  who  speak  to  us  in  the 
NT  are  familiar  with  experiences  of  the  Holy 
Spirit  does  not  always  make  it  easier  for  us  to 
understand  them.  It  is  clear  that  very  various 
experiences  are  described  in  this  -nay,  and  some- 
times we  cannot  refrain  from  asking' whether  ex- 
periences which  one  writer  reeotuits  without  any 
eference  to  the  Spirit  would  not 


plained  as  '  pneumatic'  by  another  ;  or 

ibed  to  the  Spi 
writer  would  not  in  another  have  found  a  diflerent 


whether  experiences  ascribetl  to  the  Spirit  by  one 


interpretation.  F'urther,  there  is  the  difficulty 
raised  by  the  fact  that  wliile  the  experiences  thus 
explained  are  reiiresented,  broadly  speaking,  as  the 
work  of  the  Risen  Saviour,  and  as  dependent  some- 
how on  His  death  and  resurrection,  the  Spirit 
appears  also  in  His  life  on  earth.  Was  this  the 
same  thing  'i  When  we  read  that  Jesus  was  bap- 
tized with  the  Holy  Spirit,  are  we  to  suppose  that 
He  had  experiences  in  consequence  which  were 
analogous  to  those  of  Christians  in  the  Apostolic 
age?  The  purpose  of  this  article  is  to  bring  out  the 
facts  as  they  are  presented  in  the  oldest  Gospel  to 
begin  with,  and  to  show  from  later  stages  in  the 
history  the  relation  between  the  Spirit  and  Je.sus 
the  Christ. 

1.  The  earliest  reference  to  the  Spirit  is  in  the 
preaching  of  the  Baptist.  To  the  end  John  was 
conscious  of  the  impotence  and  iiKide(|uaiy  of  all 
his  efibrts :  the  true  Helper  of  Israel,  whatever 
else  he  might  be,  must  be  'One  mightier  tlian  I.' 
'  I  baptize  you  with  water,  he  shall  baptize  you 
with  holy  spirit'  (Mk  1").  A  Christian  Evangelist, 
like  the  author  of  the  Gospel,  might  interpret  such 
words  in  the  light  of  his  own  post-Pentecostal  ex- 
periences ;  and  when  we  lind  tlie  later  Evangelists 
(Mt  3",  Lk  3'")  add  to  '  holy  spirit '  the  words  '  and 
lire,'  it  is  nearly  certain  that  they  have  done  .so.* 
But  it  is  not  clear  that  for  the  Baptist  the  Holy 
Spirit  (if  which  he  spoke  was  so  clcarlj-  defined. 
He  liail  noi  tlie  Christian  experience  to  'put  mean- 
ing into  his  wcuds,  and  he  can  only  have  intended 
.sometliing  which  could  be  understood  through  its 
OT  antecedents,  or  through  experiences  with  which 
he  had  been  in  contact  at  an  earlier  period.  The 
earliest  form  of  the  Gospel  says  nothing  of  such 
experiences,  and  when  we  look  backward  we  can- 
not but  be  struck  by  the  almost  total  disappear- 
ance of  the  Spirit  from  the  apocalyptical  literature 
of  Judaism.  'First  and  Second  Maccabees  and 
Daniel  are  each  in  a  different  way  witnesses  for 
a  very  profound  religious  feeling  of  exactly  ^he 
sort  tihat  in  other  ages,  either  earlier  or  later, 
would  have  been  ascrilied  to  the  Spirit'  (AVood, 
The  Spirit  of  God  in  Biblical  Literature,  p.  71  :  cf. 
Gunkel,  Die  Wirkungcn  des  hciligen  Geistc.i,  p. 
50 f.).  Yet  the  Spirit  is  not  appealed  to  in  ex- 
planation. When  we  come  to  the  Hebrew  OT, 
however,  the  one  idea  which  is  dominant  in  con- 
nexion with  the  Spirit  is  the  one  which  is  wanted 
here  to  explain  the  prophecy  of  the  Baptist— the 
idea  of  power  as  opposed  to  impotence.  The  in- 
ability of  Egypt  to  help  Israel  is  expressed  by 
Isaiah  in  the  words  :  '  The  Egyptians  are  men  and 
not  God,  and  their  horses  flesh'and  not  spirit'  (31"'). 

*  The  reference  of  the  '  fire '  in  this  connexion  to  the  fire  of 
Gehenna  seems  to  the  present  writer  (in  spite  of  Mt  31^,  Lie  81') 
simplv  innretlible.  The  true  liev  to  it  is  Ac  2^,  and  tlie  many 
p.assa^'es  in  which  the  same  or  a  similar  figure  recurs,  e.y.  1  Th 
Oi»,  Ko  12",  Ac  1825. 


732 


HOLY  SPIEIT 


HOLT  SPIRIT 


Men  and  flesh  are  the  impotent 'things,  in  contrast 
witli  the  omnipotent,  God  and  spirit.  As  A.  B. 
Da\ddson  puts  it  (Theology  of  the  OT,  126),  'the 
Spirit  of  God  06  intra  is  God  active,  showing  life 
and  power  .  .  .  the  Spirit  of  God  ab  extra  is  God 
in  efticient  operation,  whether  in  the  cosmos  or  as 
giving  life,  reinforcing  life,  exerting  efficiency  in 
any  sphere.'  John  the  Baptist  was  a  worker  for 
God,  but  he  never  claims  for  himself  either  to  have 
the  Spirit  or  to  be  able  to  give  it;  he  has  the  sense, 
however,  that  when  the  Mightier  than  himself 
comes.  He  will  be  distinguished  in  precisely  these 
ways.  He  will  baptize  with  '  holy  spirit '  in  ^■irtue 
of  being  full  of  the  Spirit  himself. 

2.  When  Jesus  comes  to  be  baptized  in  Jordan, 
the  remarkable  phenomenon  is  that  what  for 
others  is  a  baptism  with  water  coincides  for  Him 
with  a  baptism  in  the  Holy  Spirit.  According  to 
Mk  1'",  as  Jesus  ascends  from  the  water.  He  sees 
the  heavens  cleaving  and  the  Spirit  as  a  dove  de- 
scending upon  Him.  In  the  earliest  Evangelist 
this  is  the  experience  of  Jesus  only  :  it  is  He  who 
sees  the  Spirit  descending.  He  to  whom  the  heavenly 
voice  is  addressed.  The  later  Evangelists  may  have 
conceived  it  otherwise,  and  extended  the  vision  and 
the  hearing  of  the  voice  to  John  the  Baptist  or 
even  to  the  bystanders  :  it  is  indifferent  here.  All 
agree  that  on  this  occasion  Jesus  received  the 
Holy  Spirit,  and  in  it  the  attestation  of  His  Son- 
ship,  the  call  to  His  unique  task,  and  the  endow- 
ments needed  to  discharge  it. 

Critic's  have  sir,'crfstert  that  the  curiously  indirect  way  in 
which  111'-  lixi'Ti-Hi  nt  Jesus  and  the  descent  of  the  Spirit  are 
mention'  i  in  1.1-  --'■  i^  'lue  to  tlie  writer's  desire  to  slur  over 
sonietliinu  vvliirh  is  really  inconsistent  with  his  account  of 
Jesus'  l-irtli  :  Init  even  if  Lulte  liad  difficulty  in  adjustinj?  these 
two  thniirs,  as  Liie  Fourth  Evantfelist  ni.ay  have  had  difficulty  in 
adjusting  the  incarnation  of  the  Eternal  I^rfigos  in  Jesus  with 
the  descent  of  the  Spirit  upon  Him  in  manhood,  it  is  clear  that 
for  hoth  the  baptism  was  so  securely  fixed  in  the  Gospel  testi- 
mony that  they  had  no  alternative  but  to  set  it  unambiguously 
down  (ct.  Jn  l3l-3J). 

Have  we  any  means  of  saying  ■what  is  meant 
by  such  words  as  the  Evangelists  employ  in  this 
connexion?  Can  we  interpret  Jesus'  experience 
by  what  we  read  of  spiritual  gifts  or  states  in  the 
Primitive  Church  ?  Is  it  right  to  look  in  His  life 
for  such  phenomena  as  we  find,  e.g. ,  in  Acts  or  in 
1  Cor.  ascribed  to  the  Spirit?  May  we  look  for 
such  sudden  accesses  of  feeling  as  we  connect  with 
scenes  like  Ac  2^  4"  13'?  Can  there  be  such  a 
thing  as  the  rapture  or  ecstasy  which  seems  to  be 
meant  by  being  'in  the  Spirit'  in  Rev  1"  4=  17"  21"? 
These  are  not  questions  to  be  answered  a  priori. 
There  must  have  been  sometliing  in  the  life  of 
Jesus  as  determined  by  the  great  experience  of 
His  baptism  akin  to  the  experiences  which  Chris- 
tians subsequently  ascribed  to  the  Spirit,  or  they 
would  hardly  have  traced  both  to  the  same  source  ; 
and  the  more  closeljr  we  look  into  the  Gospels,  the 
less  does  the  emotionally  colourless  Saviour  of 
popular  art  seem  to  correspond  to  the  historical 
reality.  The  experiences  of  Jesus  at  the  Baptism 
and  the  Transfiguration  were  not  those  of  everyday 
life;  they  belong  to  'pneumatic'  as  contrasted 
with  normal  conditions.  So  again  it  might  be  said 
that  if  the  cleansing  of  the  temple  (Mk  IP^"'-),  the 
cursing  of  the  fig-tree  (11"),  the  excitement  (appar- 
ently) with  which,  on  the  way  to  Jerusalem,  .Jesus 
took  the  lead  of  His  disciples,  to  their  bewilder- 
ment and  fear  (10''-),  had  been  told  of  anybody 
else,  that  other  wofild  have  been  described,  on  each 
occasion,  as  'filled  with  the  Huly  S]iiiit.'  How- 
ever this  may  be  (see  J.  AV«mss,  Ji',,  ]■,-,  ilnit  Jesu 
vom  Reiche  dottci,  p.  54  n.  ;  (.1.  Ilultzninmi,  War 
Jesus  Elcstatih-r  ?),  the  Evangelist  inakr-  no  refer- 
ence to  the  Spirit  in  this  connexion.  He  leaves  us 
to  infer  from  the  life  which  Jesus  lived  in  the 
Spirit  what  the  Spirit  itself  was.  But  it  may 
fairly  be  said  that  some  of  the  ideas  which  Chris- 


tians subsequently  connected  with  their  own  bap- 
tism were  not  \\-ithout  relation  to  the  baptism  of 
Jesus  and  to  the  interpretation  which  tliey  put 
upon  it.  It  was  the  facts  of  His  baptism  which 
led  them  to  believe  (a)  in  a  normal  comcidence  of 
baptism  with  the  Spirit  and  water-baptism,  instead 
of  in  the  displacement  of  the  latter  by  the  former  ; 
(6)  in  the  Spirit  received  in  baptism  as  specifically 
the  spirit  of  sonship  ;  and  (c)  in  that  same  Spirit  as 
one  consecrating  them  to  God  and  to  service  in  His 
kingdom. 

3.  The  first  light  is  thrown  on  the  nature  of  the 
Spirit  as  received  by  Jesus  in  the  narrative  of  the 
Temptations.  It  is  the  Spirit  which  sends  Him 
out  to  the  wilderness,  there  to  engage  in  conflict 
with  the  power  of  evil.  The  word  iK^iWei  (Mk  1'-), 
though  it  must  not  be  forced,  suggests  a  DiWne 
impiilse  which  could  not  be  resisted.  Jesus  was 
Divinely  constrained  —  for  the  Spirit  is  always 
Divine — to  face  the  ultimate  issues  of  His  work 
from  the  very  beginning,  to  contemplate  all  the 
plausible  but  morally  unsound  ways  of  aiming  at 
ascendency  over  men  for  God,  and  to  turn  from 
them ;  to  face  the  Prince  of  this  world,  and  to 
demonstrate  that  that  Prince  had  nothing;  in  Him. 
The  most  elementary  notion  of  the  Spirit  may  be 
that  of  Divine  power,  but  where  we  see  it  first  at 
work  in  Jesus  it  is  Divine  power  which  is  at  the  same 
time  holy ;  it  is  at  war,  in  principle,  with  every- 
thing which  is  unworthy  of  God ;  the  kingdom  -which 
the  Son  of  God  is  to  found  in  the  power  of  the  Spirit 
is  one  which  can  make  no  kind  of  compromise  with 
evil.  It  iinist  lie  spiritual  (in  the  complete  Chris- 
tian sriisi  I  ill  its  nature— not  based  on  bread; 
spiiitu.il  ill  its  methods — not  appealing  to  miracles 
which  only  dazzle  the  senses  or  confound  the  mind ; 
and  spiritual  in  its  resources — not  deriving  any  of 
its  strength  from  alliance  with  Satan,  from  borrow- 
ing the  help  of  the  evil  which  wields  such  vast 
power  among  men,  or  from  recognizing  that  it  has 
a  relative  or  temi)orary  right  to  exist.  'The  spirit,' 
as  Mk.  calls  it  {V"-^^),  while  Mt.  has  'God's  spirit' 
(3"*),  and  Lk.  'the  holy  spirit'  (3~)  or  'holy  spirit' 
(4'),  is  the  Divine  power  with  which  Je.sus  was 
endowed  at  His  baptism,  and  which  committed 
Him  to  an  irreconcilable  conflict  with  evil.  It  is 
the  conscioiLS  and  victorious  antagonist  of  another 
spirit,  of  which  all  that  need  he  said  is  that  it  is 
not  of  God. 

4.  St.  Luke  tells  us  that  Jesus  returned  from  the 
Jordan  'in  the  power  of  the  Spirit'  into  Galilee 
(4"),  and  St.  Peter  in  Ac  (10=«')  tells  how  God 
anointed  Him  (in  the  Baptism)  '  with  holy  spirit 
and  power ' ;  and  it  is  under  these  conditions  that 
the  Evangelists  conceive  His  whole  ministry  to  be 
fulfilled.  If  they  do  not  mention  the  Spirit  at 
every  step,  it  is  because  they  think  of  Him  as  in 
full  possession  of  it  continually.  It  probably 
agrees,  e.g.,  with  the  Evangelist's  own  idea,  to 
say  that  the  passage  in  Mk.  which  immediately 
succeeds  the  Temptations  illustrates  first  by  Jesu.s' 
power  over  men  (l^^-^),  next  by  His  power  or 
authority  in  teaching  (1""-),  and,  finally,  by  His 
power  over  demons  (l^"-),  what  is  involved  in  His 
possession  of  the  Spirit.  A  Divine  power  accom- 
panied all  His  words  and  deeds,  and  made  them 
effective  for  God  and  for  His  kingdom.  The  allu- 
sion in  V^  to  His  rising  early  and  going  away  to  a 
desert  place  to  pray  suggests  that.  Divine  as  this 
power  was,  it  wrought  in,  and  in  accordance  with 
the  laws  of,  a  human  nature  which  was  capable  of 
spiritual  exhaustion,  and  had  to  recruit  its  strength 
\vith  God.  We  do  not  find  till  we  come  to  3-' 
('they  said.  He  is  beside  himself,'  iiiaTmi)  any 
further  indication  of  how  His  work  in  the  Spirit 
afiected  Jesus.  It  is  clear  from  this  impatient 
word,  in  which  the  same  charge  is  brought  against 
the  Lord  as  was  afterwards  brought  against  Paul  (see 


HOLY  SPIKIT 


HOLY  SPIEIT 


2  Co  5'^,  where  i^iar-qiKv  is  ojjposed  to  aoiippovodixev), 
that  the  tension  of  His  spirit  seemed  at  times 
abnormal :  He  was  '  rapt '  or  '  carried  away '  by 
His  earnestness,  and  became  for  tlie  time  uncon- 
scious of  bodily  needs  or  indifierent  to  them  (cf. 
the  fast  in  the  wilderness,  and  Jn  4^"''-).  Pos- 
sibly even  the  charge  brouglit  against  Him  by  the 
scribes,  tliat  He  cast  out  devils  by  Beelzebub,  in 
other  words,  tliat  He  was  jiossessecl  Himself  by  a 
demon, — a  cliarge  mentioned  in  this  connexion  by 
Mk.,— appealed  for  sup]Mirt  U<  tliis  tension  or  rap- 
ture. If  the  character  of  -Icmis'  tcailiiiig  and  heal- 
ing had  been  that  of  emotionless  plucidity,  it  would 
not  have  been  even  plausible  to  say  iat.fj.dvioi'  e'x" 
Ka.1  fiaberai  (Jn  8*-  ^'-  10"" :  these  passages  from  the 
Fourth  Gospel  are  guaranteed  by  their  agreement 
with  Mk  32"-).  There  is  no  trace  in  the  Gospel  of 
any  want  of  self-control,— no  such  fren/y  :i>  is 
ascribed  to  the  Spirit  in  1  S  19-*'-,  or  in  tie-  .Ir^  i  i|i 
tion  of  the  glossolalists  in  1  Co  14, — but  ile  ic  i^ 
a  superhuman  intensity  implied  whicli  was  felt 
throughout  the  life  in  word  and  deed. 

5.  The  main  interest  of  the  passage  Mk  3^-^* 
lies  in  the  word  of  Jesus  Himself  about  the  Holy 
Spirit :  '  Verily  I  say  unto  you.  All  things  shall  be 
forgiven  to  the  sons  of  men,  the  sins  and  the  blas- 
phemies, all  that  they  have  blasphemed :  but 
whoso  shall  have  blasphemed  the  Holy  Spirit  hath 
never  forgiveness,  but  is  guilty  of  eternal  sin  : 
because  they  said,  He  hath  an  unclean  spirit' 
(V.28I-).  It  is  hardly  doubtful  that  this  is  the  true 
form  of  this  much  discussed  saying  of  Jesus.  Tlie 
Holy  Spirit  is  not  here  set  in  any  contrast  with 
Jesus,  as  though  to  blaspheme  Jesus  were  a  venial 
fault,  but  to  blaspheme  tne  Spirit  an  unpardonable 
one  ;  on  the  contrary,  the  Holy  Spirit  is  blasphemed 
when  malignant  hearts  harden  themselves  to  say 
of  Jesus,  '  He  has  an  unclean  sjjirit.'  The  Divine 
power  which  works  through  Jesus  with  such  in- 
tensity, healing  all  who  are  under  the  tyranny  of 
the  devil,  is  in  point  of  fact  God's  supreme  and 
final  appeal  to  men.  It  is  such  an  exercise  of 
power  as  is  possible  only  for  one  who  has  already 
vanquished  Satan,  and  is  engaged  in  liberating  his 
captives  (Mk  3").  No  person  \vith  any  sense  for 
God  in  him  can  help  being  attracted  by  it  to  begin 
with.  But  if  the  other  manifestations  of  this 
power  should  happen  to  provoke  resentment, — if 
its  ethical  demands  (as  in  the  teaching  of  Jesus) 
should  threaten  seriously  the  rejiutation  or  the  self- 
complacency  of  the  insincere, — it  is  fearfully  pos- 
sible that  they  may  set  tbeiiisehes  .m.-iinst  it,  and 
so  resist  the  Holy  Spirit.  Surlr  ir^isliuice,  unce 
begun,  may  go  to  any  Icii-ih,  imu  id  the  length 
of  defiantly  misinterpret  111-  ilic  liii'  of  .lesus,  and 
affirming  it  to  be  from  l>eiie;il  ii,  nci  I'lnm  aliuve. 
This  is  the  sin  against  lle^  Holy  S|,iiii.  In  piin- 
ciple,  it  is  the  everyday  sin  of  liii.lini;  l.;ul  nnp|i\.'-, 
for  good  actions;  carried  to  its  nnii.-udoniil.li- 
height,  it  is  the  sin  of  confronting  the  Divine 
holy  power  which  ^vrought  so  irresistibly  and  so 
intensely  in  Jesus,  and  saying  anything  —  the 
maddest,  most  wanton,  most  malignant  thing — 
rather  than  acknowledge  it  for  what  it  is.  The 
people  who  said,  '  He  has  Beelzebul'  (3-^),  '  He  has 
an  unclean  spirit'  (v.'"),  were  not  giving  expression 
to  their  first,  but  to  their  last  thoughts  of  Christ. 
This  was  the  depth  which  malignity  in  them  had 
reached.  The  Holy  Spirit  receives' here  a  certain 
interpretation  from  being  contrasted  v.ith  an  '  un- 
clean '  spirit.  '  Unclean  '  is  a  religious  rather  than 
an  ethical  word  ;  the  imclean  spirit  is  one  which 
has  not  and  cannot  have  relations  with  God :  it 
can  only  be  excluded  from  His  presence,  as  it 
excludes  those  who  are  possessed  by  it.  The  Holy 
Spirit  is  specifically  God's ;  it  brings  Hin:  in  His 

Sower  to  men,  it  is  the  very  token  and  •■eality  of 
[is  presence  with  them.     But  it  is  interpreted 


more  precisely— and  this  is  the  point  of  Jesus' 
argument  as  it  i>  brought  out  in  the  parallel  pas- 
sage in  Ml.  and  1.1;.— by  the  works  wliich  it  does. 
'If  1  in  lie-  >|.iiit  of  God  am  casting  out  the 
demons,  then  tie!  kingdom  of  God  has  come  upon 
you'  (Mt  I'i-",  cf.  Lk  IV,  where  for  iv  iri/ei/jiuTi 
ffcoO  we  have  ev  oaKriXi^  0(oO,  the  Divine  power  being 
the  essential  idea ;  cf.  Ex  8'°  (''*').  When  the  super- 
human power  which  dis|ilays  itself  with  such 
intensity  is  nmnifesteil  in  wdrks  (jf  this  sort,  it  is 
clear  that  it  i>  nol  nn-rely  snj.ei  linnnin,  but  specifi- 
cally Divine.  To  withsianil  wli.al  i>  so  unambigu- 
ously the  redeeming  power  of  GikI,  and  to  do  so 
deliberately  and  malignantly,  in  the  spirit  which 
will  kill  Jesus  rather  than  acknowledge  Him  as 
what  He  is,  is  the  unpardonable  sin. 

Tip.  fnni,  .,1  11,1-  >.,M,i-,vhicli  appears  in  Mt  1231f-  and  Lk  1210 

ill-- :ili I  .ifiiDiI,  in  ■  II  lieflected  in  tradition.     Mt.  really  has 

'I  IN  I'^^'i  1..IIM-,  \.      i.     ii^ilt  corresponding;  to  what  we 


1  the  ( 


'Mk., 


Lulse.  That  is,  Mt  123if.  is  ; 
^  is  found,  first  as  it  appeared 
it  appeared  I 


it  appei 
e  collec 


of  discourses  frenerall,y  allowed  to  have  been  used  by  Mt.  and 
Luke.  What  is  meant  in  the  second  form,  where  a  word  spoken 
apainst  the  Son  of  Man  is  contrasted  with  blasphemy  against 
Holy  Spirit,  is  not  very  clear.  Mk.,  who  puts  the  odious 
unclean  spirit,'  into  connexion  with  the 
beside  himself,' might  be  regarded 


word  of  Jesus'  friends, 
as  giving 


the  1 


:  anxiety  or  irritation 
-J  bottom  loved  Him,  wa 
a.ve  been  more  capable 


momentary  petulance 
hideous  expression  in 
power  reveals  its  utter 
Here  the  r 
word  blasph 
actually  he] 
it  is  sin  absoKitel 
character,  of  finalit;y 
— sin  past  which  oni 
forgivenesi 


tted  Oil-  Mil. 
"1  be  ri-pnili 

Id  be  forgiv 

Son  of    Mar 

the  part  of 


for  the  fact  1 
at  all.  An  im- 
ing  in  a  moment 
rom  hearts  that 
friends  ought  to 
But  it  was  not 
ndly  and  finally 
en  it  was,  then, 
Lild  be  the  word 


itrast  with  such  a 

friends  stands  the 

of  God's  present  saving 

unclean  spirit.' 

e   is  finally  committed   against  God;   such  a 

i  His  Spirit — that  is,  it  blasphemes  God  as  He  is 

'Orking  in  Christ  for  man's  salvation  ;  as  such 

'         r-^fca,    i.e.  sin  which   has  the 

er  be  anything  but  what  it  is 

10  as  to  infer  the  possibility  of 

ther  in  this  world  or  in  the  next. 


6.  The  expulsion  of  evil  spirits  from  the  possessed 
is  regarded  in  the  Gosjiel  as  a  chief  manifestation 
of  the  possession  by  Jesn<  of  the  Holy  S|iiiit.  But 
all  His  miracles  are  to  h,-  mehi  .loo.l  in  iliis  con- 
nexion. Without  goiii.u  so  fai-  ,i>  lo  s.iy  that  in 
the  Temptation  narratives  He  is  repiesented  as 
tempted  to  put  to  selfish  uses  the  power  just  con- 
ferred through  the  Spirit  in  Ijaptism  for  the  ends 
of  God's  kingdom,  it  is  a  mark  of  historicity  in  the 
canonical  Gospels  that  until  He  is  baptized  with 
the  Spirit,  Jesus  works  no  miracle.  It  is  the  Spirit 
in  which  the  power  is  given  for  all  His  mighty 
works  {dvvdfids).  It  is  not  likely,  however,  that 
when  we  read  of  |io\ver  a--  h.n  inu  uoni'  forth  from 

Him  (which  in   .Mk  .".■"anil   l.k  li'"  niav  1 ily  the 

Hxanu'eli.tV  rea.linu  of  lli,'  f:irN.  Iml  in  l,kS-"'is 
di.-tin.-tlvaseril,,.,!  to  .lesns  Himself),  any  reference 
to  the  Spirit  is  intended.  The  wisdom  and  the 
mighty  works  wlneli  astonished  the  Nazarenes 
(Mk  tj-)  would  no  doubt  be  referred  to  this  source 
by  the  Evangelist  ;  .ind  when  in  6'  Jesus  sends  out 
the  Twelve,  gi\ine  I  hem  .lutbority  over  the  un- 
clean spirits,  it  can  only  have  been  conceived  as 
due  to  the  transferemo'  lo  them  of  a  part  in  that 
Divine  power  wliieh  liail  been  so  wonderfully 
operative  in  Him  (<f.  Xu  1 1").  The  idea,  however, 
that  it  was  tlie  Ilisen  Sa\  iour  by  whom  the  Spirit 
was  given  to  the  Apostles  so  dominated  the  Evan- 
gelists, that  none  of  them  refers  to  the  Spirit  in 
connexion  with  this  mission  of  the  Twelve  during 
Jesus'  lifetime.  The  Spirit  of  Jesus  in  Jlk  _8'=  is 
no  doubt,  as  in  2"*,  His  human  sjiirit ;  l>ut  if  w;e 
admit  that  it  is  to  this  that  the  Spirit  of  God  is 
most  akin,  or  most  immediately  attached,  it  is 
perhaps  not  fanciful  to  suppose  that  the  sigh 
(di/aorei'iifai,  cf.  in  a  similar  situation  7**)  represents 


734 


HOLY  SPIRIT 


HOLY  SPIRIT 


the  grieving  of  the  Spirit  of  God  by  tlie  unbelief 
and  hard-heartedness  of  man  (ef.  Eph 4™,  Is  63=").  It 
is  more  liazardoiis  to  argue  that  only  in  '  pneumatic ' 
and  abnormal  conditions— only  in  a  psychological 
state  extraordinarily  and  violently  ele\ate<l  above 
the  level  of  common  experience — did  Jesus  identify 
Himself  with  the  Son  of  Man,  who  after  a  tragic 
career  on  earth  was  to  rise  again  on  the  third 
day,  or  to  come  on  the  clouds  of  heaven  (Mk  8^' 
gsi  iQscir.  1402).  Abnormal  conditions  such  as  are 
here  supjiosed  do  not  persist  in  sane  minds,  and  to 
call  Jesus  an  'ecstatic'  or  a  'pneumatic'  in  this 
sense  is  only  to  avoid  calling  Him  a  fanatic  by 
using  a  natural  instead  of  a  moral  term  to  describe 
Him.  Certainly  the  Gospel  suggests  in  this  period 
of  His  life  accesses  of  intense  emotion  (Mk  8^^)  and 

Shenomena  both  in  His  aspect  (9'*)  and  in  His  con- 
uct  (lO'^)  which  must  have  struck  people  as  un- 
usual, and  due  to  something  overpowering  within, 
whicli  it  would  have  been  natural  to  call  the 
Spirit ;  but  in  point  of  fact  there  is  no  reference 
to  the  Spirit  in  this  period.  Perhaps  the  nearest 
ai>proach  to  it  is  in  Mk  10^,  where  Jesus  asks 
James  and  John,  'Are  ye  able  to  be  baptized  with 
the  baptism  with  which  I  am  baptized  ?  There  is 
no  doubt  that  Jesus  speaks  throughout  this  scene 
with  unusual  elevation  of  tone ;  and  the  hgure  of 
baptism,  which  He  could  hardly  use  without  recall- 
ing the  experience  at  the  .Jordan  and  all  that  His 
consecration  there  involved,  lifts  us  into  the  region 
where  the  thought  of  the  Spirit  is  near.  Still,  it  is 
not  expressed.  The  Triumphal  Entry,  the  Cleans- 
ing of  the  Temple,  and  the  Blighting  of  the  Fig- 
tree  are  all  acts  implying  intensity  and  ele^'ation 
of  feeling  transcending  common  human  limits : 
often  other  persons,  visited  by  such  impulses  with 
startling  suddenness,  are  said  to  be  '  filled  with 
holy  spirit,'  but  in  Jesus  they  do  not  seem  to  have 
made  the  same  impression  on  bystanders.  They 
did  not  apparently  stand  in  relief  in  His  life  as 
they  would  have  done  in  the  life  of  others  ;  little 
in  it  is  specifically  assigned  to  the  Spirit,  because 
the  spiritual  baptism  at  the  beginning  impelled 
and  controlled  it  throughout.  It  does  not  really 
cast  any  light  on  Jesus'  experience  of  the  Spirit, 
when  in  Mk  12=«  He  quotes  Ps  110  by  '  David  him- 
self said  in  the  Holy  Sjiirit':  this  merely  rejire- 
sents  the  Jewisli  belief  in  the  Divine  inspiration  of 
Scripture,  a  belief  most  distinctly  preserved  in  the 
Epistle  to  the  Hebrews,  where  01  g^uotations  are 
introduced  by  '  as  saith  the  Holy  Spirit,'  etc.  (3'  9' 
10'* :  cf.  2  P  !-•',  2  Ti  3«,  Ac  l'«).  More  important 
is  Mk  13",  which  contains  the  only  promise  of  the 
Holy  Spirit  in  the  earliest  Evangelist.  Referring 
to  the  persecutions  which  will  conic  upon  the 
Apostles  after  His  death,  Jesus  ^:iy>  :  ''Wlnii  (licy 
lead  you  to  judgment  and  di'lix.'i  \.iii  i;|,,  ]„■  ii,,i 
anxious  beforehand  what  ye  sli:ill  I'lik.  Knt  wh.it 
ever  is  given  to  you  in  that  lioui,  ili;it  >iii:ik  ;  im 
it  is  not  you  that  speak,  but  the  Holy  Spirit.'  The 
Spirit  is  here  conceived  as  a  Divine  reinforcement 
in  the  very  crisis  of  need.  If  fidelity  to  the  gospel 
brings  men  to  extremity,  they  wfll  not  be  left 
there,  but  will  have  experience  of  superhuman 
help.  It  is  important  to  notice  that  the  precise 
character  in  which  the  Spirit  which  comes  to  the 
help  of  the  dis<tiples  is  here  conceived  as  acting  is 
that  of  a  TrapaKK-qroi  or  advocatus — an  idea  of  which 
amiiler  use  is  made  in  the  Gospel  and  1st  Epistle 
of  John.  The  term  TrapdKXjjrot  may  be  due  to  the 
Evangelist,  but  the  conception  of  the  Spirit's  func- 
tion goes  back  to  the  Lord.  It  is  not  the  Holy 
Spirit  which  is  referred  to  in  Mk  14^* ;  and  in 
le'*-^,  although  mention  is  made,  as  is  natural  in 
a  late  passage  based  on  other  NT  writings,  of  most 
of  what  are  usually  called  spiritual  gifts,  the 
Spirit  itself  is  not  expressly  named. 
If,  then,  we  try  to  sum  up  the  oldest  Evangelic 


representation,  we  can  hardly  say  more  than  that 
the  Holy  Spirit  is  the  Divine  power  which  from 
His  baptism  onward  wrought  in  Jesus,  making 
Him  mighty  in  word  and  deed — a  power  the  char- 
acter of  which  is  shown  by  the  teaching  and  by 
the  sa^dng  miracles  of  Jesus — a  power  to  which  the 
sanctity  of  God  attached,  so  that  it  is  Divine  also 
in  the  ethical  sense,  and  to  blaspheme  it  is  the  last 
degree  of  sin— a  power  in  which  Jesus  enabled  His 
disciples  to  some  extent  to  share,  and  which  He 
promised  would  be  with  them  in  the  emergencies 
of  their  mission — a  power,  however,  which  (con- 
trary to  what  we  might  have  anticipated)  the 
Evangelist  d("'^  imt  bring  into  prominence  at  any 
of  the  criM-  m  iiii.ii>.'  luoinents  of  Jesus' life.  It 
takes  notliiiiu  I'--  ili.in  that  life  itself,  from  be- 
ginning to  inil,  ((.  show  us  what  the  Spirit  means. 
'If  the  last  Evangelist  tells  us  that  the  Spirit  inter- 
prets Jesus,  the  inference  from  the  first  is  that 
Jesus  also  interprets  the  Spirit,  and  that  only 
through  Him  can  we  know  what  it  means. 

7.  If  we  turn  from  ISIark  to  the  other  Evangelic 
source  common  to  Mt.  and  Lk.,  we  find  little  to 
add  to  this.  Both  our  First  and  our  Third  Evan- 
i:c!ists  hnvo  cxervthing  which  Mk.  has,  and  their 
v.-iri:iti,.n-  {r.,,.  Nit  3",  Lk  3"  as  opp.  Mk  P;  Mt 
IJ",  Lk  li.'",i.opp.  Mk3=8'-;  Mt  10-",  Lk  12'2  21'= 
:is  (.|.|,.  Mk  l:;'i)  have  been  noticed  already,  or  are 
ot  nu  consei|nence.  But  when  we  look  at  what  is 
peculiar  to  Mt.  and  to  Lk.  respectively,  there  is 
more  to  say.  Omitting  for  the  moment  the  first 
two  chapters  in  each,  we  notice  these  points. 

(«)  It  is  a  mark  of  historicity  in  Mt.  that  in 
recording  the  Sermon  on  the  Jlount  he  nowhere 
alludes  to  the  distinction  of  '  letter '  and  '  .spirit ' 
\\liich  occurs  .so  spontaneously  to  the  modern  in- 
tcrjireter  of  the  words  of  Jesus.  On  the  other 
band,  in  7--  we  have  an  utterance  of  Jesus  repro- 
duced in  terms  which  have  almost  certainly  been 
inrtuenced  by  po.st-Pentecostal  experiences  of  the 
Spirit.  It  was  only  then  that  men  '  prophesied ' 
in  the  name  of  Jesus,  etc.,  and  till  they  had  done 
.so,  such  language  as  this  could  not  have  been  used. 
Comparison  with  !  'c  13-°'^'  justifies  us  in  saying 
that  we  have  here  the  word  rather  than  the  words 
of  the  Lord.  But  in  any  case,  the  idea  that  the 
most  amazing  gifts  of  the  Spirit  are  worthless 
apart  from  common  morality — the  idea  expanded 
in  1  Co  13— is  here  traced  back  to  Jesus  Himself. 
It  is  difficult  to  understand  a  Divine  power,  the 
action  of  which,  so  to  speak,  elevates  and  reinforces 
the  nature,  without  raising  the  character  ;  yet  this 
is  undeniably  what  is  contemplated  both  by  Jesus 
and  by  St.  I'aul.  Perhaps  the  underlying  truth  is 
t  li.-it  the  moral  nature  is  tlie  deepest  and  the  hardest 
In  iMiutr.ifr  I'V  the  Divine  power,  and  may  remain 
uunllr.l.il  Ky'il  when  other  elements  of  our  being 
li:i\<'  liirii  Mi'l.dued  to  its  service.  The  unnatural- 
nrss  of  sucli  :i  result  is  reflected  on  by  Jesus  in 
.Mt  11-"-,  where  woes  are  pronounced  on  the  cities 
which  had  seen  so  many  of  His  mighty  works,  yet 
had  not  repented.  It  is  implied  that  these  mighty 
works,  the  works  of  the  Spirit  in  Him,  were  of  such 
a  cliar.'ictcr  tliat  is,  so  holy  and  gi'acious — that 
thi  V  (lui^lil  In  have  evoked  penitence,  and  brought 
a  iii'w  nini^il  life  into  being.  An  interesting  light 
is  thrown  nn  tlie  Evangelist's  own  conception  of 
the  Spiiit  in  relation  to  Jesus,  by  his  ajjplication  to 
our  Lord  of  the  prophecy  in  Is  42'-*  '  I  will  put  my 
.spirit  upon  him,  and  he  .shall  bring  forth  judgment 
to  the  Genriles,'  etc.  (Mt  12'8-2').  Here  not  only  the 
])ower  of  Jesus,  which  gives  Him  assurance  of  final 
victory  (Mt  12="),  but  His  method  and  His  temper 
— His  meekness,  patience,  constancy — are  ascribed 
to  the  Spirit.  The  presence  and  power  of  God  are 
felt  in  His  superhuman  renunciation  of  the  ordinary 
ways  anvl  tempers  of  men  as  much  as  in  the  super- 
human rt  sources  which  He  wielded.     It  is  again  a 


HOLY  SPIRIT 


HOLY  SPIEIT 


mark  of  historicity  in  Mt.  that  wu  tind  no  mention 
of  the  Spirit  where  in  a  writrr  ili)niiii;iluil  liy  the 
consciousness  of  a  later  fimr  w^  imiiM  n.ii'.iinly 
have  expected  it — that  is,  in  ih'-  |i:i  ,:i;jrs  which 
speak  of  wliat  are  sonu'timrs  c  iillrd  ccilcsiasticul 
prerogatives  or  functions  (16>8"-  is'''--").  Contrast 
with  these  Jn  20-'-,  Ac  15='.  The  Trinitarian  bap- 
tismal formula,  ho-\vever  it  be  explained,  throws 
no  light  on  the  Spirit  as  an  e.xperience  in  the  life 
of  Jesus  (Mt  2819). 

(6)  St.  Luke's  interest  in  the  Spirit,  as  the  most 
conspicuous  phenomenon  in  primitive  Christianity, 
is  well  known,  and  it  is  apparent  in  his  Gospel. 
Thus  he  describes  Jesus,  as  the  result  of  His 
baptism,  as  irXripjis  nDevfiaTos  aylov  (4'),  where  the 
adjective  seems  intended  to  describe  a  permanent 
condition,  as  opposed  to  tlie  verb  (used  of  sudden 
and  transient  accesses  of  the  Spirit  in  1""- "').  Simi- 
larly he  says  that  in  the  wilderness  ijyero  in  rif 
TTveiifiaTi  (4^),  which  seems  to  signify  an  intense, 
rapt,  and  absorbed  state  of  feeling,  in  whicli  He 
was  carried  up  and  down  the  desert.  The  form  of 
words  is  used  elsewhere  to  descrilje  cither  pos- 
session by  an  evil  spirit  (Mk  1'-'  HvSpuTTo^  tV  irveviiaTi 
aKaeiprifi)  or  ecstasy  in  tlie  Divine  (Rev  1'"  iyevbti-qv 
iv  iri/eifiaTi).  More  instructive  is  the  way  in  which 
St.  Luke  puts  the  whole  ministry  of  Jesus  under 
the  heading  of  the  Spirit.  He  returns  from  the 
Jordan  to  Galilee  ev  rf;  So^d^ei  rod  Tn'ei/j.aTos,  and  it 
is  this  power  wliicli  is  tlii^  kry  to  all  the  marvellous 
life  which  follows  (4'-',  cf.  tlie  summary  account  of 
Jesus'  life  by  the  same  writer  from  tlie  lijis  of  St. 
Peter  in  Ac  I0»«).  But  thougli  power— that  is,  the 
presence  of  God,  who  can  do  what  men  cannot  do— 
IS  the  fundamental  note  of  the  Spirit,  it  is  not 
power  undelined.  St.  Luke  has  no  sooner  spoken 
of  Jesus  as  entering  on  His  work  in  the  power  of 
the  Spirit,  than  he  interprets  this  by  the  scene  at 
Nazareth  where  Jesus  applies  to '  Himself  the 
prophecy  of  Is  61"-  'The  spirit  of  ilie  Lord  is  upon 
me,  because  he  hath  anointed  me  to  preach  glad 
tidings  to  the  poor,'  etc.  (Lk  4""-).  '  The  words  of 
grace  which  proceeded  out  of  his  mouth '  on  this 
occasion  (v.=-),  and  the  spiritual  healings  which  He 
wrought,  were  as  unmistakably  tokens  of  the 
Spirit  as  the  '  mighty  works '  which  the  Nazarenes 
had  heard  of  as  wrought  at  Capernaum. 

If  the  reading  of  the  TR  in  95S  (sin  oa«T£  a'.m  tku/^ts;  Iitti 
ilJius)  has  any  authorit.v,  it  is  to  the  same  intent :  the  spirit  in 
which  Jesus  came,  to  seek  and  save  the  lost,  was  the  very 
opposite  of  that  which  wished  to  call  down  Are  from  heaven  on 
the  inhospitable  Samaritans.  There  is  an  approach  here  to  the 
sense  of  '  temper '  or  '  disposition  '  for  spirit,  but  it  is  temper  or 
disposition  regarded  in  relation  to  the  power  which  produces  it ; 
the  Divine  power  which  works  in  Jesus  makes  Him  a  Saviour, 
i  different  from  that  other  power,  what- 
nients  in  James  and  John. 

One  of  the  most  interesting  singularities  in  Lk. 
is  his  reference  to  the  Spirit  in  10-'  ||  Mt  11=^  'In 
that  hour  Jesus  rejoiced  in  the  Holy  Spirit,  and 
said,  I  thank  thee,  O  Father,'  etc.  Both  Evan- 
gelists, in  giving  the  one  passage  in  the  Synoptic 
tradition  which  has  the  Johannine  ring,  are  con- 
scious of  its  peculiar  elevation  of  thought  and 
feeling,  but  only  Lk.  interprets  it  in  this  way. 
The  authority  on  which  he  depended  must  have 
preserved  for  him  the  remembrance  of  a  joyful 
excitement  thrilling  Jesus  as  He  spoke.  The  con- 
text, too,  favours  this.  The  Seventy  return  to 
Jesus  (10")  exulting  that  even  the  demons  are 
subject  to  them  in  His  name.  In  a  sudden  flash 
Jesus  reveals  to  them  what  He  had  seen  in  their 
absence,  and  through  their  little  successes  :  ededpow 
rip  ^aravdy  cis  aarpawriv  (k  toD  oi'pa^'oO  TrecrSpra  (v.'*). 
It  is  in  the  consciousness  of  this  final  victory,  and  of 
His  power  to  make  even  His  feeble  followers  more 
than  conquerors,  that,  after  warning  them  net  t.. 
trust  in  what  they  can  do  for  God,  but  r.-Ulier  in 
God's  faithful  love  to  them,  He  breaks  into  what 


Lk.  evidently  regarded  as  His  rapturous  utterance. 
It  is  not  with  resignation,  but  with  Divine  exultant 
gladness,  that  Jesus  accepts  the  Father's  will  as 
revealed  in  the  results  of  His  work.  The  Spirit  is 
not  connected  with  revelation  either  here  or  any- 
where else  in  tlie  life  of  Jesus,  but  only  with  the 
overpowering,  joyful  emotion  of  the  hour.  And 
the  connexion  of  the  Spirit  and  of  joy  is  one  of  the 
most  striking  characteristics  of  the  NT  all  through 
(see  Lk  1"'-,  Eo  14",  Gal  5",  Ac  13=^-,  1  Th  1").  No 
authority  can  be  claimed  for  the  v.l.  in  Lk  11=, 
according  to  which,  instead  of  '  Thy  kingdom  come,' 
or  '  Hallowed  be  thy  name,'  we  sliould  read,  '  Thy 
Holy  Spirit  come  upon  us  and  cleanse  us.'  Yet  it 
is  in  keeping  with  St.  Luke's  interest  in  the  Spirit 
that  this  reading  is  found  here  and  not  in  Mt.'s 
version  of  the  prayer  (see  Plummer's  St.  Luke, 
p.  295  n.).  It  is  another  proof  of  this  interest  that 
in  Lk  11"  ■a-psC/j.a.  dyiop  replaces  the  'good  things' 
of  Mt  7":  for  St.  Luke,  all  'good  things'  which 
Christians  could  ask  from  the  Father  were  summed 
up  in  the  Spirit.  This  is  a  clear  case  of  later 
experience  interpreting  the  words  of  Jesus  and 
giving  the  sense  of  them  in  its  own  terms.  Per- 
haps if  another  than  Jesus  had  been  in  question, 
we  might  have  read  that  the  jiassionate  words  of 
12^"'-  broke  from  His  lips  when  He  was  '  hlled  with 
holy  spirit';  but  to  the  Evangelist  Jesus  is  always 
'full  of  the  Holy  Spirit,'  ami  no  sucli  points  stand 
in  relief  in  His  career.  (Id. liy  I'li.nigli,  Lk.  omits 
any  mention  of  tlie  Spirit  in  rimm-xinn  witli  Ps  110 
(2d">f-),  though  both  .Mt.  and  Mk.  seem  to  emphasize 
it,  and  in  21'^  he  replaces  the  express  promise  of 
the  Spirit,  which  he  has  already  used  in  12'=,  by  a 
more  general  promise  of  an  irresistible  power  of 
speech  such  as  he  ascribes  in  Ac  6'"  to  a  man  full 
of  the  Holy  Siiirit.  There  is  no  reference  to  the 
Holy  Spirit  in  2.3*'.  The  last  light  the  Evangelist 
thro^vs  on  it  is  in  24",  where  the  Risen  Saviour 
describes  it  as  '  the  promise  of  my  Father,'  and  as 
'power  from  on  high.'  The  last  word,  therefore, 
brings  us  back  to  the  lirst.  The  fundamental  idea 
to  be  associated  with  the  Spirit  is  that  of  Divine 
power :  how  the  Divine  power  is  to  be  further 
characterized,  what  it  is  ethically,  and  to  what 
issues  or  in  what  temper  it  works,  we  can  see  only 
in  the  life  of  Jesus.  He  is  the  key  to  the  interpre- 
tation of  a  term  which  of  itself  is  indehnite  indeed. 
8.  From  the  life  of  Jesus,  as  covered  by  the 
Apostolic  testimony  (Ac  !="■),  we  now  turn  to  the 
chapters  of  Mt.  and  Lk.  which  tell  the  story  of 
His  birth.  If  Mk.  i,  tlic  earliest  form  of  the 
Evangelic  traditiim,  il  is  naiuial  hi  say  (whatever 
the  Evangelists  i.wn  (hi  iioln-y  may  lie)  that  the 
Divine  sonshiji  of  Jesus  «as  <nigiiially  connected 
with  His  baptism.  It  was  there  He  received 
the  Holy  Spirit  and  heard  the  heavenly  voice 
which  said,  'Thou  art  my  Son.'  It  would  be  all 
the  more  natural  for  Christians  to  say  this  who 
read  in  their  Gospel  of  Luke  (3==),  with  Codex 
BczcE,  '  Thou  art  my  Son,  this  day  have  I  begotten 
thee.'  But  as  soon  as  reflexion  woke,  it  would 
be  apparent  that  Jesus  could  not  suddenly,  at 
the  age  of  thirty  or  thereabouts,  begin  to  be  what 
He  had  in  no  sense  been,  or  been  destined  and 
prepared  for,  before.  This  is  the  conviction  which — 
not  to  speak  of  lii^toiical  evidence— sustains  the 
stories  of  the  l.irlh  ..f  Chri-L  He  imisl  always 
have  been  what  (  Ini  lian-  .■\  cnlually  Knew  Him 
in  their  o-\vn  experiiiicc  1"  !"■  :  llu  must  always 
have  been  Son  of  Gotl.  it  it  is  the  Spirit  which 
makes  Him  Son,  then  behind  the  baptism  with 
the  Spirit  must  lie  a  birth  in  which  the  Spirit  is 
equally  important :  not  only  the  equipment  of  this 
personality,  but  its  origiiiation,  must  be  traced 
(liicctly  to  God.  And  it  is  the  origination  of  the 
personality  of  Jesus  with  which  both  Mt.  and  Lk. 
are  concerned.     Neither  of  them  betrays  any  idea 


736 


HOLY  SPIRIT 


HOLY  SPIRIT 


that  the  Son  of  God  jire-existed,  and  that  they  are 
only  narrating  the  mode  in  which  He  came  from 
another  order  of  being  into  this ;  and,  difficult  as 
it  may  be  to  understand  how  a  companion  and 
friend  of  St.  Paul  could  ignore  such  an  idea,  we 
must  abide  by  the  facts  as  they  are  before  us.  No 
act  of  man,  but  only  the  [lOwer  of  God,  lies  behind 
and  explains  the  existence  of  Jesus  Christ  in  the 
world.  In  Jit.  the  story  is  told  simply  and  briefly  : 
Mary  was  found  with  child  ck  -irvev/xaTos  aylov  (V^-  ^'). 
It  is  this  which  makes  the  Child  to  be  Immaiuicl, 
'God  with  us.'  In  Luke,  though  the  setting  is 
much  more  elaborate,  the  place  and  significance  of 
the  Spirit  in  the  story  are  the  same.  The  angel 
of  the  Annunciation  says  to  Mary  (I^)  :  irveviia 
aYtov  eweXfvacTai  (irl  a4,  Kai  8u'vo(iw  rnj/io-Tou  eiri- 
(7Ktd(T€L  aoc  8tb  Kai  to  ycfi/to/j.evoi'  iiytov  KK-qd-qacrai, 
■ulos  itov.  It  is  in  virtue  of  this  mode  of  origination 
that  the  future  child  is  avio;".  Son  of  God.  It  is 
important  to  notice  here  the  parallelism  of  nvcvim 
dfiov  and  Siva)iis  i-^icrov.  The  two  expressions  are 
precisely  equivalent.  In  the  life  and  work  of  Jesus, 
the  Di^nne  power  can  reveal  itself  ethically  (as  the 
Gospel  story  shows  in  detail),  but  in  the  origination 
of  His  personality  there  is  no  room  for  anything  to 
appear  but  bare  power.  The  action  of  the  Sjririt 
is  to  be  conceived  not  as  sexual  but  as  creative. 
This  marks  the  truth  as  well  as  the  purity  of  the 
NT.  In  the  OT,  where  the  gender  of  nn  can  be 
determined,  the  feminine  instances  are  to  the 
masculine  as  more  than  two  to  one ;  but  in  the 
NT  this  is  irrelevant,  irvediia  is  of  no  gender.  Few 
^^^ll  be  persuaded  by  0.  Holtzmann  (Leben  Jesu  a,nd 
War  Jesas  Ekstafikcr?  p.  41 )  that  the  Gospel  accord- 
ing to  the  Hebrews,  in  which  Jesus  is  introduced 
as  speaking  of  the  Holy  Spirit  as  His  mother, 
represents  anything  more  primitive  or  original  on 
that  account.  To  call  the  Spirit  either  '  mother ' 
or  '  father '  is  equally  inept  and  im-Christian  :  the 
Spirit  is  the  power  of  the  Highest,  to  which  the 
presence  of  the  Son  of  God  in  the  world  is  due. 
In  other  words,  the  Divine  Sonship  of  Jesus  does 
not  date  from  His  baptism,  as  that  of  Christians ; 
it  is  not  with  Him  as  with  us  an  aftair  of  re-birth, 
but  of  birth  simply  ;  it  is  native  and  original,  with 
roots  as  deep  as  His  being  ;  He  is  not  only  niis  0(ov, 
but  iiovoyevqi. 


9.  But  it  is  not  only  the  birth  of  Jesus  which  in 
i  connected  with  the  Spirit :  all  the 
period  are  transacted,  so  to  speak,  in 
;  agitated  by  the  Spirit.  The  repre- 
mditiniifil  partly  by  OT  conceptions 
.-inJ  |i:iilly,  no  doubt,  by  primitive 
liciir,^  1.1  it.  Thus  in  1''^  the  angel 
ai-o!  ixyiov  TrXTjo-ffijcreTat  fri  « 
ords  in  which  we  can  uiink 


Lk  1  and  2 
events  of  th 
an  atmosphi 
sentation  is 
of  the  Spirit, 
Christian  expi  i 
says  of  John  : 
Koi\ia$  /iTjTpos  a\ 
only  of  a  Divine  energy  or  intensity  of  lifj  which 
Avas  to  characterize  the  chUd  from  the  fiist.  Pos- 
sibly the  juxtaposition  of  this  with  the  prohibition 
of  wine  and  strong  drink  (cf.  Ac  2".  Eph  5"^)  sug- 
gests the  excitement  or  stimulation  of  the  nature 
by  God  as  opposed  to  any  natural  'atoxicant.  Yet 
the  work  which  John  is  to  dr  in  consequence 
('many  of  the  children  of  Isroel  shall  he  turn  to 
the  Lord  their  God,'  P"),  shows  that  the  Divine 
power  is  conceived  as  working  to  ethical  issues, 
and  therefore  as  itself  ethical.  In  the  OT  •  the 
spirit  is  never  used  as  a  cause  except  of  those 
things  which  have  to  do  with  the  affairs  of  the 
people  of  Israel'  (Wood,  op.  cit.  p.  9);  and  this  is 
the  point  of  view  mai<itained  tliroughout  these 
chapters  in  Luke.  The  Spirit  is  connected  with 
the  Messianic  age  (this  is  universally  the  case  in 
the  NT),  and  ^Wth  the  preparations  for  the  coming 
of  the  Messiali.  In  John,  who  comes  '  in  the  spirit 
and  power  of  Elijah'  (1"),  it  is  a  prophetic  spirit, 
yet  rather  in  the  OT  than  in  the  NT  sense  :  indeed, 
it  is  the  outstanding  feature  in  the  consciousness  of 


John  that  he  neither  has  nor  can  impart  holy 
spirit.  When  it  is  said  that  Elisabeth  '  was  filled 
with  holy  spirit,  and  lifted  up  her  voice  with  a  loud 
cry'  (l**),  we  must  think  of  a  sudden  and  over- 
powering access  of  feeling  referred  to  God  as  its 
source.  The  same  remark  applies  to  Zacharias 
(1*')  as  he  utters  the  Benedictus  :  in  both  cases  the 
emotion  is  one  of  joy  (see  aViove,  §  7).  More 
significant  are  the  references  to  the  Sj^irit  in  con- 
nexion ivith  Simeon  (2^"-).  He  was  a  just  and 
devout  man,  cherishing  the  Messianic  hope,  and  it 
was  probably  conditioned  by  this  character  that 
TTvevixa  Tfv  &yioy  iir'  avTov.  Yet  this  can  hardly 
mean  that  he  had  an  abiding  possession  of  the 
Spirit.  No  such  possession  of  the  Spirit  is  con- 
templated anywhere  in  these  chapters,  and  Simeon 
is  presented  to  us  only  in  relation  to  this  one  scene 
from  the  infancy  of  Jesus.  All  through  his  action 
here  he  is  a  Divinely  impelled,  Divinely  illuminated 
man.  This  is  what  is  meant  by  the  words  quoted. 
It  is  'in  the  Spirit' — that  is,  under  a  Divine  im- 
pulse— that  he  comes  into  the  temple  ;  it  has  been 
revealed  to  him  '  by  the  Holy  Spirit ' — that  is,  he 
has  had  a  Divine  assurance  granted  him — that  he 
will  see  the  Christ  before  he  dies.  How  this  im- 
pulse or  this  revelation  was  imparted  to  Suneon 
the  Evangelist  does  not  tell,  and  it  is  vain  to  ask. 
But  we  need  not  say  that  it  was  not  mediated 
at  all,  but  blankly  supernatural.  The  words  in 
23Jt.  could  not  have  been  spoken  by  a  young  man  ; 
here  '  old  experience  doth  attain  to  something  of 
prophetic  strain.'  Perhaps  we  may  say  as  much  of 
the  ancient  prophetess  Anna  (v.'^'f).  irpo^ifiTts  im- 
plies the  Spirit,  yet  apart  from  this  one  occasion, 
at  the  presentation  of  tlie  Child  Jesus  in  the  temple, 
when  she  gave  thanks  to  God— no  doubt  in  such  an 
outburst  of  inspired  feeling  as  is  seen  in  the  Nunc 
dimittis — we  have  no  means  of  knowing  how  the 
Spirit  expressed  itself  through  her.  For  this  sud- 
den and  eager  outburst  of  thanksgiving  (so  much 
is  implied  in  ain-y  rj  dp?  einffTaa-a  av8a/j.o\oyelTO  Tifi 
6e<})  we  may  perhaps  compare  St.  Luke's  account 
of  the  first  Spirit-given  utterances  at  Pentecost : 
'  We  do  hear  them  speak  in  our  tongues  the  mighty 
works  of  God '  (Ac  2"). 

10.  In  the  Synoptic  Gospels,  what  is  said  of  the 
Spirit  no  doubt  bears  the  impress,  here  and  there, 
of  experiences  which  were  familiar  to  the  wTiters 
under  that  name,  but  these  experiences  do  not 
come  independently  into  view.  It  is  otherwise 
when  we  pass  beyond  the  Synoptics.  Writers  like 
St.  Luke  in  Acts,  and  St.  Paul  in  many  of  his 
Epistles,  deal  directly  and  formally  with  this  sub- 
ject. In  the  Gospel  of  John  there  is  reached  even 
a  stage  of  conscious  reflexion  upon  it  which  may 
almost  be  called  a  doctrine  of  the  Spirit.  And 
everywhere  in  the  NT  there  are  casual  lights 
thrown  upon  it  in  which  we  can  see  its  place  in 
Christian  thought  and  life.  It  is  not  intended  here 
to  follow  out  these  in  detail,  but  to  indicate  in 
outline  the  main  features  of  the  past-Pentecostal 
experience  and  conception  of  the  Spirit,  keeping 
especially  in  viev.'  their  relation  to  Christ  and  the 
Gospels. 

11.  Although  there  might  be  reasons  for  be- 
ginning with  St.  Paul,  it  is  more  convenient  to 
Follow  up  Lk.'s  Gospel  by  Acts.  The  first  reference 
of  this  book  to  the  Spirit  is  one  of  the  most  sin- 
gular :  Jesus  is  spoken  of  as  having  '  given  com- 
mandment through  the  Holy  Spirit  unto  the 
apostles  whom  he  had  chosen'  (1-).  Though 
Jesus  in  the  Gospel  speaks  and  acts  from  beginning 
to  end  as  one  anointed  with  Holy  Spirit  and 
power,  there  is  no  parallel  to  this  expression.  It 
seems  to  suggest  that  with  the  Resurrection  the 
dispensation  of  the  Holy  Spirit  began,  and  that 
the  disciples  were  conscious,  as  they  listened  to  the 
new  and  final  charge  of  their  Lord,  that  they  were 


HOLY  SPIRIT 


HOLY  SPIRIT 


r37 


in  contacl,  a.  they  had  never  been  before,  with  the 
|io\vuis  of  ih.'  wurUl  to  come  (He  6=),  the  Divine 
iiisi.ii:iliiin  oi  iliu  Messianic  age.  This  power  with 
which  thr  J;isL'ii  Saviour  is  invested  He  bids  the 
ilisrijih',-.  ihiiiiNC'lves  expect  within  a  few  days  (P). 
U  is  111,'  |.r..iiiisc  of  tlie  Father:  'Ye  shall  receive 
power  \\  hrii  (li.;  Holy  Spirit  is  come  upon  you,  and 
ye  shall  lu^  my  witnesses'  (1^).  This  promise  was 
made  good  at  Pentecost,  when  '  all  were  filled  with 
the  Holy  Spirit,  and  began  to  speak  with  other 
tongues  as  the  Spirit  gave  them  utterance'  (S-*). 
The  representation  of  the  tongues  in  Ac  2  as  foreign 
languages  has  to  be  controlled  by  St.  Paul's  de- 
scription in  1  Co  14.  The  miracle  of  Pentecost  is 
not  that  the  disciples  spoke  in  foreign  languages, 
which,  in  spite  of  the  narrator,  is  meaningless  and 
incredible,  but  that  they  spoke  at  all,  that  they 
spoke  with  tongues  of  fire,  and  that  their  speech 
was  a  testimony  to  Jesus,  delivered  with  over- 
whelming Divine  power.  The  whole  Pentecostal 
phenomenon,  including  the  emotional  .li-im  Innce 
which  suggested  drunkenness  (2'  i,  jnl  i\|in-^ed 
itself  in  joyful  if  inarticulate  tli.ink-jiMii;;-  {:i", 
cf.  1  Co  14i«),  has  the  character  of  a  tesiiiuoiiy  to 
Jesus.  The  central  thought  of  the  whole  is  that 
of  2^  'Having  received  from  the  Father  the 
promise  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  he  hath  poured  forth 
this  which  ye  both  see  and  hear.'  Pentecost,  or 
the  gift  and'  possession  of  the  Spirit,  is  the  proof  to 
the  world  of  the  exaltation  of  Jesus.  It  is  His 
Divine  power  which  is  behind  this  incalculable 
elevation  and  reinforcement  of  the  natural  life. 
This  is  the  NT  point  of  view  throughout.  There 
is  such  a  thing  as  a  spirit  which  is  not  of  God,  but 
the  Spirit  which  Christians  have  and  of  which  they 
speak  is  never  anything  else  than  the  Spirit  of 
Jesus.  It  is  never  an  undefined  impulse  or  stimulus 
— a  vague  excitement  originating  anyhow  and 
tending  any  whither :  it  is  always  refen'ed  specifi- 
cally to  Jesus,  and  it  is  fundamentally  a  token 
that  He  is  there  in  power  (5^-).  That  there  is  an 
abnormal  or  pathological  side  to  speaking  lyith 
tongues  need  not  be  questioned ;  the  equilibrium 
of  a  weak  and  sinful  nature  may  easily  be  dis- 
turbed by  the  sudden  irruption  into  it  of  such  in- 
calculable realities  as  the  resurrection  of  Jesus,  the 
redeeming  love  ami  tlie  coming  judgment  of  God  ; 
but  any  ile-ice  of  ilisturbance  is  better  than  in- 
dilt'ereii<i-  ami  inseiisiliility.  The  only  question  is 
how  the  ilisturliaiice  is  to  settle— whether  men  are 
to  rise  out  of  it  into  the  balance  of  a  renewed  nature 
at  a  higher  level,  or  to  sink  out  of  it  into  the  old 
torpor  again.  The  disturbance  itself  is  the  work 
of  God  tlirough  His  Spirit — the  Spirit  of  the  Risen 
Saviour — whatever  (he  issue  be.  For  other  refer- 
ences in  Acts  to  speiikiii-  with  tongues  as  the  most 
conspicuous  sij,'Ti  of  lia\inu  the  Spirit,  see  10'"'  19": 
probably  this  is  what  is  iii(>ant  when  we  read  of 
the  Spirit /aWimr/  on  {ein-n-iwTeii>)  people  as  in  8">'-. 

More  important  than  speaking  >vith  tongues, 
even  in  Acts,  is  prophecy.  St.  Peter's  sermon  in 
Ac  2  is  a  specimen  of  Christian  prophecy ;  the 
Spirit  enables  him  to  read  the  OT  (Joel  and  the 
Psalms)  in  a  Christian  sense,  and  to  find  in  it  Jesus 
and  the  Messianic  age.  It  is  similarly  inspired 
men — '  by  the  irapdK\Tj<ns  of  the  Holy  Spirit'  (9^') — 
under  whose  ministry  the  Church  is  multiplied. 
Five  such  men  are  mentioned  by  name  as  working 
in  the  Church  at  Antiooh  (13"-).  The  seven  at 
Jerusalem  (6^)  are  chosen  as  men  fnll  of  the  Spirit 
and  faith.  The  dau'^liler-;  of  riiili|i,  who  pro- 
phesied, were  women  who  sli:ire,l  in  this  gift  (21°). 
Sometimes  the  prophecy  had  the  rharaeter  of  pre- 
diction: e.ij.  Agabus  (11--)  si.<;niile(l  'through  the 
Spirit'  an  impending  fandne,  just  as  at  a  later 
date  (21")  he  foretold  what  awaited  Paul  at  Jeru- 
salem :  'thus  saith  the  Holy  Spirit.'  It  is  no 
doubt  the  utterances  of  such  '  inspired  '  men  that 
VOL.  I.— 47 


are  in  view  when  St.  Paul  himself  says  (20--') :  '  The 
Holy  Spirit  testifieth  unto  me  in  every  city,  saying 
that  bonds  and  atilictions  abide  me'  (cf.  21'').  It  is 
important  to  note  that  St.  Paul  did  not  find  it 
necessary  to  obey  when  Christian  men  said  to  him 
'  througli  tlie  Spirit  that  he  should  not  set  foot  in 
Jerusalem.'  In  some  way  he  could  urge  the  Spirit 
within  him  against  this  spirit  without :  '  I  go 
bound  in  the  spirit  to  Jerusalem'  (20*'',  cf.  19-'). 
He  felt  a  Christian  obligation  to  go  at  all  hazards, 
and  went  against  all  omens.  Akin  to  these  warn- 
ings is  the  general  guidance  of  the  Church  and  the 
Apostles  by  the  Spirit,  especially  at  important 
crises.  For  example,  in  chs.  8  and  10,  where  it  is 
important  to  represent  that  the  extension  of  the 
Church  beyond  the  Jews  was  Divinely  authorized, 
the  whole  story  is  told  at  the  supernatural  level, 
and  the  Spirit  appears  at  every  turn  :  '  the  Spirit 
said  to  Philip '  (8»,  cf .  S^) ;  '  the  Si^irit  of  the  Lord 
snatched  Philip  away'  (8^") ;  'while  Peter  was 
pondering  the  vision,  the  Spirit  said,  Behold  two 
men  seek  thee  .  .  .  I  have  sent  them' (lO™-)  ;  'the 
Spirit  bade  me  go  with  them,  nothing  doubting' 
(11'-).  How  the  Spirit  made  such  communications 
we  need  not  inquire  :  but  it  is  important  to  notice 
that  they  are  not  about  inditterent  things.  There 
is  nothing  of  the  pagan  oracle  which  tleals  with 
any  question  proposed  to  it :  tlie  Spirit  i;i\-es  direc- 
tion only  in  the  concerns  of  the  Kingdom  of  the 
Messiah!  For  other  and  strikinu  illustrations 
connected  with  this  guidance  of  the  Cimreii  in  the 
preaching  of  the  gospel  see  13-  (where,  no  doubt, 
the  Spirit  spoke  through  an  inspired  man),  13*  15^ 
jgo.  7. 10  J•\^Q  last  verse  probably  shows  that  too 
hard  and  fast  a  line  is  not  to  be  drawn  between  the 
voice  of  the  Spirit  and  inferences  drawn  from  facts 
by  Christian  intelligence. 

One  point  of  interest  in  Acts  is  the  relation  of 
the  Spirit  to  baptism.  The  gift  of  the  Spirit  is 
itself  represented  beforehand  o?  a  liaptism  (P  'ye 
shall  be  baptized  with  holy  spirit  not  many  days 
hence').  After  Pentecost,  instead  of  displacing 
and  annulling  water- baptism,  as  we  might  have 
anticipated,  the  baptism  with  the  Spirit  is  re- 
garded as  normally  coincident  with  the  other : 
'  Repent  and  be  baptized  .  .  .  and  ye  shall  receive 
■        ■■      -    ■      "  ■     - —  ef.  0""-).     When 


e  Holy 

normal 

it.  It 
spoken 
rs,  and 
.f  their 


the  gift  of  the  Holy  Spirit'  {-2^. 
peopTe  believed  and  were  baiitiz. 
Spirit  did  not  fall  on  any  of  then. 
and  disconcerting, — at  least  on  !- 
(gi4-i7)^_and  steps  were  taken  i< 
must  be  remembered  that  the  onl, 
of  in  Acts  is  that  of  adult  penile 
that  for  such  persons  the  pulilii'  c 
faith,  in  a  ritual  act,  was  naturally  the  occasion  of 
profoundly  moving  experiences — experiences  which, 
as  rising  into  higher  ranges  of  thought  and  feeling 
than  usual,  were  ascribed  by  the  early  Church  to 
the  Spirit.  To  find  in  Ac  S'''"  or  19'"'  an  analogue 
of  'confirmation,'  a  sacrament  supplementary  to 
baptism,  and  capable  of  being  conferred  only  by  an 
Apostle  or  by  a  bishop  as  his  successor,  is  an 
anachronism.  The  gifts  of  the  Holy  Spirit  be- 
stowed on  these  two  occasions  when  Apostles 
prayed  and  laid  their  hands  on  the  baptizeil,  were 
what  may  be  called  spiritual  gifts  falling  within 
the  sphere  of  the  senses  ;  '  they  spoke  with  tongues 
Jind  prophesied'  (19").  In  confirmation,  this  is 
neither  asked  nor  wanted,  but  this  and  notlung 
else  is  what  is  desiderated  by  St.  Luke.  The 
emotional  stimulation,  which  liberates  the  hidden 
powers  of  human  nature,  is  itself  the  gift  of  the 
Holy  Spirit  in  virtue  of  which  people  become 
glossolalists  or  prophets.  But  though,  for  the  reason 
already  stated,  the  gift  of  the  Spirit  is  the  normal 
aceoiupaiiiment  of  baptism,  the  order  of  the  two 
things  may  be  reversed.  Cornelius  and  his  house- 
hold are   baiitized,  not  in   order  to   receive,  but 


738 


HOLY  SPIRIT 


HOLY  SPIRIT 


because  they  have  received,  tlie  Spirit  (lu-"**). 
And  more  important  than  any  single  observation 
is  the  fact  that  in  Acts,  as  elsewhere  in  the  NT, 
the  reception  of  the  Spirit  is  the  whole  of  Chris- 
tianity. '  They  received  the  Holy  Spirit  even  as 
we  did'  (10^'  II"  15"'-).  All  that  makes  a  man  a 
Christian  is  in  this,  and  where  this  is  there  can  be 
no  distinction  of  Jew  or  Gentile  more.  The 
Church  is  one  in  the  unity  of  the  Spirit. 

12.  In  St.  Paul's  Epistles  the  Holy  Spirit  is  men- 
tioned nearly  120  times,  and  may  be  said  to  have 
a  prominence  and  importance  which  it  has  nowhere 
else  in  the  NT.  It  is  impossible  to  discuss  it  in 
detaU  here.  On  the  one  hand,  we  have  repre- 
sentations of  the  Spirit,  and  of  the  eft'ects  jjroduced 
by  its  reception,  entirely  similar  to  those  in  Acts  : 
St.  Paul's  wlicile  ministry,  in  word  and  deed,  has 
been  aceompli-hcil  in  tliejiower  of  the  Holy  Spirit 
(Ko  15'3')  ;  tliosf  wild  re<eive  his  gospel  receive 
the  Spirit ;  the  chief  x^P'o'/taTa,  or  spiritual  gifts, 
are  speaking  with  tongues  and  prophesying  (1  Th 
5^^-^,  1  Co  12-14).  Though  St.  Paul  was  distin- 
guished himself,  above  everyone  at  Corinth,  by 
iiis  experiences  of  the  glossolalic  ecstasy,  and 
thanked  God  for  it  (1  Co  14'*),  and  though  lie  dis- 
couraged the  sober  -  minded  Thessalonians  who 
would  have  hastily  repressed  it  (tliis  is  what  is 
meant  by  '  Quench  not  the  Spirit'  in  1  Th  5'^),  he 
was  not  insensible  to  its  dangers.  There  was 
something  morbid  in  it  ;  it  might  be  tainted  -with 
vanity  and  self-indulgence  ;  there  was  nothing  in 
it  to  edify  the  Church.  Good  Christians  might 
even  be  conceived  as  thanking  God  that  they  did 
not  speak  -with  tongues.  Even  the  higher  gift  of 
prophecy  needs  criticism  and   control.     The  man 

'  ri.-\i'I.ifiiin  '  iiKij- ruiiif  in   tin- S|iiiit.  -In-  may  be 


is  lie  i-xrmpt  from  the  critii-ism  uii.l  ccmtnil  of  the 
Church.  '  Prophets'  spirits  are  subject  to  prophets ' 
(1  Co  14^-)  :  the  Divine  impulse  under  wliich  the 
propliet  in  eacli  case  speaks  is  not  an  uncontrol- 
lable force  whicli  must  have  its  way  irrespective  of 
order  or  decorum.  Neither  does  it  guarantee  in- 
fallibility :  the  human  individuality  counts  for 
something  in  every  utterance,  and  when  two  or 
three  '  prophets '  have  spoken  the  others  are  to 
judge  (1  Co  14-').  The  Christian  common  sense  of 
the  community,  so  to  speak,  is  felt  to  be  more 
inspired  than  the  most  ardent  utterance  of  any 
individual.  St.  Paul  even  mentions  among  x''-P^<'- 
nara  one  which  he  calls  StaKpftrets  Trvev/iaTojv — the 
faculty  of  deciding  on  each  occasion  what  is  the 
true  character  of  the  impulse  under  which  a 
man  sjicaks,  and  in  particular  whether  it  is  of 
(Jiiil  or  not.  The  conception  of  a  spiritual  gift  of 
this  liin.l— an  instinctive  sense  for  what  is  or  is 
not  in  keeping  with  the  gospel — is  peculiar.  It 
brings  us  within  sight  of  what  is  characteristically 
Pauline  in  the  conception  of  the  Spirit,  namely, 
a  possession  of  the  Spirit  which  is  beyond  all  par- 
ticular 'gifts'  or  'operations' of  a  spiritual  kind, 
which  is,  in  short,  identical  with  Christian  life. 
To  quote  from  Mr.  Wood  {op.  cit.  268) :  '  Paul 
grasped  the  idea  of  the  unity  of  the  religious  life, 
and  spoke  of  the  spirit  not  merely  as  God  acting 
in  an  occasional  extraordinary  and  emotional  ex- 
perience, but  as  being  the  Di^ane  source  and  basis 
of  all  the  Christian  life.  For  him  the  Holy  Spirit 
is  the  cause  not  only  of  religious  experiences,  but  of 
religious  experience.  The  test  of  the  Spirit  of  God 
in  a  man  is  no  longer  subjective  emotion,  but  the 
objective  value  of  his  life  for  the  progress  of  the 
will  of  Cod  as  working  itself  out  in  the  Church.' 
In  ci.mjiarisi.il  v  itli  the  Spirit  in  this  large  .sense, 
the  |i:n  tiiiilar  iiiaiiirestations  or  gifts  of  the  Spirit 
which  arc  iHschsmmI  at  length  in  Ro  12,  1  Co  12-14, 
E|.h  4,  have  a  subordinate  though  a  vital  import- 


ance. The  main  point  is  that  for  St.  Paul  Chris- 
tian life  and  life  in  the  Spirit  are  one  thing.  All 
Christian  graces  are  the  fruit  of  the  Spirit  (Gal 
5--).  The  Christian  God  is  He  who  supplies  the 
Spirit  (3*).  To  become  a  Christian  is  to  receive  the 
Si)irit  (3-).  To  live  as  a  Christian  is  to  walk  in  or 
by  the  Spirit  (5"^).  The  Spirit  and  faith  are  corre- 
lative terms,  and  each  of  them  covers,  from  a 
dift'erent  point  of  view,  all  that  is  meant  by  Chris- 
tianity. Regarded  from  the  side  of  God  and  His 
grace  and  power  in  initiating  and  maintaining  it, 
Christianity  is  the  Spirit ;  regarded  from  the  side 
of  man  and  his  action  and  responsibility  in  re- 
lation to  God,  it  is  faith.  The  two  are  coexten- 
sive, and  all  Christianity  is  in  each.  This  Ls 
vividly  expressed  in  one  of  those  sentences  in 
which  St.  Paul  concentrates  his  whole  mind  on 
the  greatest  things :  ij^eis  yhp  Tn/ei/mTi  ck  Tiffrem 
AirWa  SiKaKxrinrji  direKdexilifffa  (5°).  Here  is  every- 
thing that  enters  into  Cliristianity  and  determines 
it  to  be  what  it  is.  Like  the  old  religion,  it  has 
in  SiKauxrvvri  its  hope  or  goal ;  but  in  its  attitude 
to  this,  nothing  is  determined  by  law,  in  any  sense 
of  that  word  ;  there  are  only  two  powers  of  which 
St.  Paul  is  conscious  as  counting  for  anything  in 
his  soul — the  one  is  Divine  (the  Spirit),  the  other 
is  human  (faith) ;  and  though  these  are  distinguish- 
able, they  cannot  be  known  apart.  Cf.  2  'fh  2" 
^v  dytaafjLi^  irvevfiaroi  Kal  Trlarei  dXij^c/as,  where  *  in 
consecration  wrought  by  God's  Spirit,  and  belief 
of  the  truth,'  is  to  be  interpreted  in  the  same  way. 
Without  going  into  details,  it  is  pertinent  to 
point  out  the  connexions  between  this  Pauline 
conception  of  the  Spirit  and  what  we  find  in  the 
life  of  Jesus,  (a)  To  begin  with,  the  Spirit  is  for 
St.  Paul  specifically  Christian.  It  is  not  the  power 
or  the  life  of  God  simpliciter,  but  the  power  or  the 
life  of  God  as  God  has  been  manifested  in  Christ, 
and  especially  in  His  resurrection  and  exaltation. 
He  calls  it  expressly  the  Spirit  of  Christ  (Ro  8») ; 
it  is  an  epistle  of  Christ  that  is  \^Titten  on  men's 
hearts  by  the  Spirit  of  the  living  God  (2  Co  3»)  ;  he 
even  goes  so  far  as  to  say,  the  Lord  is  the  Spirit 
(3"),  and  he  who  is  joined  to  the  Lord  is  one  spirit 
(1  Co  6").  The  presence  of  the  Spirit  is,  it  may 
be  said,  the  spiritual  presence  of  the  Lord  ;  it  is 
not  an  indefinite  power  of  God,  but  the  last  Adam 
who  has  become  life-giving  spirit  (IS**).  When  a 
criterion  of  '  spiritual '  utterances  is  sought,  it  is 
found  in  Jesus  (12^):  to  say  Jesus  is  anathema  proves 
that  it  is  not  God's  Spirit  in  which  one  speaks ; 
but  only  in  the  Holj'  Spirit  can  one  say  '  Jesus  is 
Lord.'  To  confess  the  exaltation,  not  of  an  un- 
known person,  but  of  Jesus,  and  t-o  live  in  the 
acknowledgment  of  Jesus  at  the  right  hand  of  the 
Father,  is  to  be  a  genuine  Christian.  Passages 
like  these  prove  that  if  there  was  any  danger  in 
the  Pauline  churches  of  an  ecstatic  enthusiasm 
doing  less  than  justice  to  the  historical  character 
of  Christianity,  it  was  a  danger  to  which  St.  Paul 
was  alive  from  the  first,  and  which  he  did  his  best 
to  ob>-iate.  That  St.  Paul  and  the  members  of  his 
churches  had  such  an  acquaintance  \vith  the  his- 
torical tradition  of  Jesus  as  gave  definite  meaning 
to  His  name,  the  writer  has  no  doubt.  —  (6)  A 
further  point  in  St.  Paul's  conception  of  the  Spirit, 
which  connects  it  essentially  with  Jesus,  is  seen  in 
this  :  it  is  a  spirit  of  adoption  or  sonship,  breaking 
out  in  the  loud  and  joyful  cry,  'Abba,  Father.' 
All  who  are  l^.l  by  it  a"re  sons  of  God.  Because 
they  are  -  "i-  i :  .i  i,  i-  -cut  forth  the  Spirit  of  His 
Son  into  111  ;  I  ii!  I,  .  s'^if-,  Gal  4").  It  is  not  a 
spirit  of  ..M.  \,.,  .1  .  .1  i2  Ti  1'),  but  of  trust  and 
joy.  ('■)  l^spccially  a-  a  spirit  of  sonship  is  it  a 
sp\rit  of  freedom  :  6  U  Kcpios  rb  Tfeiifia-  ov  Si  ri 
TvePfM  Kvptov,  iXevOepia  (2  Co  3").  "EXeiWepot,  iXey- 
0fpia,  and  i\(u$epoiv  are  great  Pauline  words  in 
this  connexion.     What  they  suggest  is  the  ( 


HOLY  SPIRIT 


HOLY  SPIEIT 


r39 


pation  of  the  Cliristian  life  from  everything  statu- 
tory, whatever  its  origin.  The  Christian  is  not 
under  law,  but  under  grace ;  no  statute  contri- 
butes in  the  least  degree  to  make  him  what  he  is , 
or  to  give  him  the  experiences  which  he  has  ;  it  is 
as  he  stands  in  the  iiresence  of  the  crucified  and 
risen  Christ,  and  abandons  himself  in  faith  to  the 
Divine  love  there  revealed,  that  the  Divine  power 
descends  into  his  heart  which  annuls  all  the 
statutes  and  conventions  he  has  ever  known,  and 
is  itself  everything  to  him  henceforth.  It  is  under 
the  inspiration  of  this  power,  and  of  this  power 
alone,  tnat  he  now  lives  and  acts  ;  not  conformity 
to  any  external  standard,  however  high,  but  moral 
originality  like  that  of  Jesus,  because  inspired  by 
the  consciousness  of  Jesus  and  of  all  he  owes  to 
Him,  is  what  is  required  of  him  at  every  step. 
That  such  a  conception  is  not  without  moral 
perils,  and  that  it  is  capable  of  being  abused,  St. 
Paul  was  well  aware  (Gal  S^^,  Ro  6") ;  but  it  is  in 
one  respect  the  fundamental  truth  of  his  gospel, 
and  he  would  never  compromise  upon  it.  That  it 
has  its  basis  in  the  teaching  of  Jesus— as  its  su- 
preme illustration  in  the  whole  life  of  Jesus — we 
may  see  from  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount,  or  from 
Mt  17^-",  Jn  83'-*.— {(/)  Again,  the  Pauline  idea 
of  the  earnest  of  the  Spirit  (ippa^dv  2  Co  1-  5*, 
Eph  1"),  or  of  the  first-fruits  of  the  Spirit  (airapxh, 
Ro  8^),  according  to  which  the  Spirit  is  a  guaran- 
tee of  eternal  life,  is  continuous  with  the  teaching 
of  Jesus.  The  Spirit  is  such  a  guarantee  because 
it  is  a  quickening  spirit,  'the  Spirit  of  him  that 
raised  Jesus  from  the  dead '  (8") ;  it  brings  to  men 
the  life  of  God,  the  same  life  that  was  manifested 
in  Jesus,  and  that  made  it  impossible  that  He 
should  be  holden  of  death  (Ac  2--').  The  argu- 
ment, or  rather  the  assumption  of  the  Apostle,  in 
all  these  passages  is  the  same  as  that  of  Jesus  in 
His  answer  to  the  Sadducees.  When  God  lias 
pledged  His  friendship  to  men  as  He  did  to  the 
patriarchs  in  ancient  days,  or  as  He  does  to  Chris- 
tians now  in  making  them,  through  the  Spirit,  par- 
takers of  His  own  life.  He  has  entered  into  a 
relation  to  them  to  which  death  can  make  no 
difference.  His  love  outwardly,  His  Spirit  in- 
wardly, both  mean  immortality.  They  both  say 
of  God's  flock :  '  They  shall  never  perish  ;  none 
can  pluck  them  out  of  the  Father's  hand  '  (Jn  10=^). 
The  only  difference  is  that  when  immortality  is 
deduced  from  the  possession  of  the  Spirit  (that  is, 
the  life  of  God),  it  is  referred,  so  to  speak,  to  a  natu- 
ral or  supernatural  law,  and  we  see  it  as  part  of  a 
constitution  of  things  ;  whereas  when  it  is  deduced 
from  the  friendship  of  God,  we  see  it  purely  as  a 
gift  of  His  grace. — (e)  Formally,  there  is  one  great 
contrast  which  brings  out  the  meaning  of  spirit  in 
St.  Paul,  but  which  cannot  be  directly  connected 
with  Jesus,  the  contrast  of  spirit  and  flesh.  This 
pervades  the  Apostle's  writings,  and  is  conspicu- 
ous in  such  passages  as  Ro  8,  Gal  5.  The  flesh 
represents  for  him  sin  in  its  virulent  and  consti- 
tutional character  ;  the  Spirit  is  the  Divine  power 
given  to  the  believer  in  Jesus,  which  enables  him 
to  do  what  the  Law  could  not  do— to  vanquish  or 
put  to  death  the  flesh.  Yet  when  St.  Paul  learned 
the  lesson  that  only  the  Spirit  could  overcome  the 
flesh,  he  merely  learned  wtiat  Jesus  taught  the  rich 
ruler—'  There  is  none  good  but  one,  that  is  God  ' 
(Mk  10'*)— with  its  necessary  inference,  that  for 
any  goodness  we  can  ever  attain  we  must  be  abso- 
lutely dependent  on  God.  St.  Paul's  gospel  means 
not  only  that  we  must  be  so  dependent,  but  that 
by  God's  mercy  sucli  dependence  is  made  possible 
for  us:  God  puts  His  Holy  Spirit  in  those  who 
believe  in  Jesus,  with  their  sanctification  expressly 
in  view  (1  Th  4"-).  There  is,  of  course,  a  reference 
here  to  the  OT  conception  of  the  Spirit  in  Ezk 
36"  37'^ 


The 


passaj^es 


throug:h  the  Sp 

Au+z,-,  ftc),  tht' 

l"it.     Ill  lioUi 


garded  by  St.  Paul 
as  a  source  oi  Kimw  ic-iuc  <ir  ri-\L-iaiion  are  amon^^  the  most 

the  Synoptic  wonis  .it  .Irsiis.     lieyides  1  Co   12«  (where  the 

'         '    "  ■    owledge '  are  mediated 

explains  hihux-n,  a-^oxa.- 
Ses  in  1  Co  2  and  Eph 
isdoin  is  spoken  of  which  is 
LTs  (though  >;,;t7»  in  1  Co  2'"  may 
other  inspired  teachers).  The 
because  it  searches  all  thing^s, 
thedepths  of  God.  The  contents  of  the  wisdom  in  ques- 
tion are  in  both  cases,  apparently,  eschatological.  It  is  wisdom 
which  God  has  foreordained  *  for  our  glory '  (not  In  honour  of 
us,  but  with  that  glory  in  view  which  we  are  to  share  with  the 
Lord  of  glory),  1  Co  2'.  It  speaks  of  the  things  '  which  eye  has 
not  seen  nor  ear  heard  ...  all  that  God  has  prepared  for  those 
who  love  him '  (2»),  or,  in  the  words  of  Eph  lis,  of  '  the  hope 
attached  to  God's  calling,  of  the  riches  of  the  glory  of  his 
inheritance  in  the  saints.'  Only  the  man  who  has  the  Spirit 
himself,  who  has  had  the  eyes  of  his  heart  illumined,  can 
receive,  teach,  or  appreciate  this  wisdom.  If  we  should  say 
that  we  have  a  notable  specimen  of  it  in  1  Co  15,  then  its 
Christian  character  is  thoroughly  safeguarded :  it  speaks  not 
merely  of  the  things  that  are  freely  given  to  us  by  God  (2»), 
but  of  the  things  that  are  freely  given  to  us  by  God  in  Christ. 
It  is  ill  Him  that  all  shall  be  made  alive,  and  put  on  the  body 
of  glory  (1  Co  15'^^,  Pli  3^i)-  It  is  Christ  in  us  who  is  the  hope 
of  the  glory  contemplated  for  us  in  God's  wisdom  (Col  127,  i  Co 
27).  The  power  with  which  God  wrought  in  Christ  when  He 
raised  Him  from  the  dead  and  set  Him  at  His  right  hand  in  the 
heavenly  places  (Eph  I'Hf),  is  the  same  as  '  the  power  which 
worketh  in  us  '  through  the  Spirit  (320),  and  it  works  in  us  to 
the  same  glorious  issue.  It  is  perhaps  impossible  for  us  to 
appreciate  as  revelation  all  the  forms  in  which  St.  Paul's 
thought  and  imagination  clothed  themselves  as  he  laid  hold  of 
the  hope  of  glory  and  immortality  in  Christ ;  but,  judging  from 
the  combination  of  these  passages,  this  seems  to  have  been  the 
substance  of  his  Spirit-taught  wisdom.  On  its  agreement  In 
substance  with  the  mind  of  Christ  see  under  (d)  above.  The 
truth  of  passages  likelCo2'^'6is  generalized  in  such  Johannine 
words  of  Jesus  as  '  SIj/  sheep  hear  my  voice  .  .  .  you  do  not  be- 
lieve because  you  are  not  of  my  sheep  .  .  .  every  one  that  is 
of  the  truth  heareth  my  voice '  (Jn  1027-  26  1837).  This  again 
unites  with  Jesus  the  Pauline  conception  of  the  Spirit. 

13.  The  NT  books  which  were  written  under 
Pauline  influence  scarcely  call  for  independent 
consideration.  Hebrews  has  one  reference  (2^)  and 
perhaps  a  second  (6'')  to  the  '  gifts '  of  the  Spirit, 
the  first  alluding  to  them  as  God's  testimony  to 
Christ ;  elsewhere  it  refers  to  the  Spirit  only  as 
the  speaker  in  the  OT  (3'  Q»  10'=).  In  1  P  P  the 
striking  expression  if  a.yiaa-p.(fi  TrveifxaTOi,  standing 
as  it  does  between  the  'foreknowledge  of  God 
the  Father'  and  'obedience  and  sprinkling  of  the 
blood  of  Jesus  Christ,'  is,  no  doubt,  to  be  rendered, 
as  in  2  Th  2'^  '  in  a  consecration  wrought  by  the 
Spirit ' ;  it  is  in  this  that  God's  eternal  purpose  of 
redemption  is  realized.  Probably  in  both  places 
(1  P  P,  2  Th  2'^)  there  is  an  allusion  to  baptism. 
In  1  Pt  1"  the  idea  that  the  Spirit  in  the  OT  (?) 
prophets  was  Christ's  Spirit  must  be  connected 
with  the  belief  in  the  pre-existence  of  Christ ;  in 
1'=  the  Holy  Spirit  sent  from  heaven  is  the  power 
which  attends  the  Christian  evangelist  and  makes 
his  words  effective.  This  idea,  of  course,  pervades 
the  NT,  and  goes  back  to  such  words  of  Jesus  as 
Mk  13",  Lk  24*8t._  .The  Spirit  of  glory  and  of 
God  '  in  1  P  41''  recalls  St.  Paul's  conception  of  the 
Spirit  as  the  earnest  of  immortality ;  it  is  the 
spirit  of  the  glory  to  bo  revealed  because  it  opens 
men's  eyes  to  the  reality  of  it  (1  Co  2,  Eph  1'"-), 
and  ensures  their  entrance  into  it  (2  Co  5').  In 
2  Ti  l'<  it  is  the  indwelling  Holy  Spirit  which 
enables  one  to  guard  the  Christian  deposit  — a 
Christian  inference  from  1  Co  2''-,  Jn  18^'.  In  Tit 
3=  the  thought  of  1  P  l'-,  2  Th  2'^,  is  more  articu- 
lately expressed:  side  by  side  with  'the  laver  of 
regeneration '  we  have  '  renewal  wrought  by  the 
Holy  Spirit.'  There  is  nothing  more  here  than  a 
fulfilment  of  the  Baptist's  words—'  He  shall  baptize 
you  with  holy  spirit'  (Mk  1"). 

H.  The  Johannine  books  cover  all  the  literary 
forms  known  to  the  NT,— Gospel,  Epistle,  Apoca- 
lypse,— and  the  Spirit  is  prominent  in  all.  To 
understand  them  it  is  necessary  to  remember  that 
all   the  experience  of  the  Pauline  churches  lies 


740 


HOLT  SPIEIT 


HOLY  SPIRIT 


behind  them,  and  that  the  circumstances  in  which 
they  originated  have  exercised  a  decided  influence 
on  their  presentation  of  tlie  facts  and  ideas  with 
which  tliey  deal. 

(a)  To  begin  with  tlie  Apocalyjjse,  the  writer 
speaks  foiu-  times  of  being,  or  being  carried  oil', 
if  irvivtiaTi.  (V  4-  17'  21'"),  an  expression  w^hich, 
whether  it  is  literary  artifice  or  a  description  of 
remembered  experience,  suggests  the  condition  of 
prophetic  ecstasy  in  which  he  saw  his  visions. 
If  St.  Paul  had  spoken  of  the  Spirit  in  that  con- 
nexion, we  should  have  referred  for  interpretation 
to  2  Co  12'"'-.  The  .seven  spirits  before  God's 
throne,  whatever  their  connexion  in  the  history 
of  religion  with  the  seven  Amshaspands  of  Persia, 
are  not  numerically  seven.  In  the  Apocalypse 
tliey  are  treated  as  a  unity  ;  they  are  the  Spirit  of 
God  in  the  completeness  of  its  powers  (1*  3'  4^  5'') ; 
and  when  Christ  is  spoken  of  as  futvincf  tlie  seven 
spirits  of  God,  the  meaning  is  the  same  as  when 
we  read  in  the  Gospel  (3")  that  God  does  not  give 
the  Spirit  by  measure  to  Him.  This  close  con- 
nexion of  Jesus  with  the  Spirit  (He  first  receives 
and  then  bestows  it)  is  strikingly  brought  out  in 
the  Epistles  to  the  Seven  Churches.  In  all  of  them 
it  is  the  Risen  Christ  who  speaks  ;  but  at  the  end 
of  each  we  read :  '  He  that  liath  an  ear,  let  him 
liear  wliat  the  Spirit  saith  to  the  Churches '  (2"-  "• 
17. 29  36. 13. 22)  In  st_  Paul's  phrase,  here  too  '  the 
Lord  is  the  Spirit.'  It  is  no  other  than  Christ 
who  speaks  through  the  inspired  prophet.  And  al- 
though if  TTveiiLaTi.  probably  means  '  in  an  ecstasy,' 
it  must  be  noted  that  there  is  nothing  inarticulate 
or  unbalanced  about  these  searching  letters.  They 
are  terrible  in  their  cabu  as  in  their  passion.  Cf. 
tlie  utterance  of  the  Spirit  in  14'*.  In  11"  and  13'' 
we  are  really  on  OT  ground,  and  the  Spirit  is  not 
specifically  Christian,  but,  as  in  OT  passim,  the 
principle  of  life.  But  the  most  striking  utterance 
on  the  Spirit  is  19'"  ij  yap  ^laprvpla  'IritroS  icrnv  rb 
Tveviu!.  TTJs  Trpo^T/Tfias.  This  means  that  the  Spirit, 
which,  as  we  have  already  seen,  is  possessed  by 
Jesus  and  bestowed  by  Hiiu,  has  also  Him  as  its 
object.  In  all  the  prophets — in  all  inspired  men 
— what  it  does  is  to  bear  a  testimony  to  Him.  All 
the  prophets,  who  are  prophets  simply  through 
having  the  Spirit,  are  witnesses  to  Jesus.  This 
agrees  not  only  >vith  the  Gospel  (15^"  16'^),  but  with 
such  other  words  of  Jesus  as  Ac  1". 

(i)  Proceeding  to  the  Gospel  of  John,  we  find,  as 
in  the  Synoptics,  that  the  Spirit  is  first  mentioned 
in  connexion  with  the  baptism  of  Jesus.  '  I  have 
seen,'  says  the  Baptist,  '  the  Spirit  descending  as 
a  dove  out  of  heaven,  and  it  abode  upon  him. 
And  I  did  not  know  hira,  but  he  who  sent  me  to 
baptize  in  water,  the  same  said  unto  me.  On  whom- 
soever thou  seest  the  Spirit  descending  and  abiding 
on  him,  tlie  same  is  he  who  baptizeth  in  holy 
spirit.  And  I  have  seen  and  borne  witness  that 
this  is  the  Son  of  God'  (P-"-)-  What  strikes  us 
here  is  the  assumption  that  every  reader  wiU  know 
what  is  meant  by  '  the  Spirit'  or  by  '  holy  spirit.' 
The  Gospel  is  meant  for  Christians  to  whom  the 
Spirit  is  an  experience,  an  experience  which  they 
owe  to  Jesus  (for  it  is  He  who  baptizes  wAtXx  holy 
spirit) ;  an  experience,  however,  which  Jesus  in 
His  turn  had  had  (He  had  been  baptized  with  holy 
spirit). 

It  ia  often  said  that  this  idea  of  the  descent  of  the  Spirit  on 
Jesus  is  only  a  piece  of  the  Christian  tra.liti"ii,  too  fimilv 
established  for  the  Evangelist  to  be  aM.'  to  di^.-ml  it,  hut  really 
inconsistent  with  the  conception  of  fhti^l  in  tli--  I'r  ilf^^nie.  The 
Word  incxrnate  (it  is  ari^ipd)  oaiiiioi  ii.'ct  to  1>  ■  1  ipti/r-d  with 
the  Holy  Spirit.     Tosavsois  to  ;,<<niii.-  1  h  i-  v.-  I  t,..-,.,  >■,  hat    ii 


logue,  the  presumption  is  that  he  felt  no  inconsistency  between 
them,  and  that  there  is  none.  His  idea  may  rather  be  that  it  is 
the  measureless  i^ft  of  the  Spirit  in  virtue  of  which  Jesus  is  the 
Word  incarnate.  If  He  had  not  had  this  experience  at  His 
baptism,  and  all  that  flowed  from  it,  He  would  not  lia\e  been 
(or  been  recognizable  as)  the  Son  of  God  (Jn  1^^*),  as  tiod  mani- 
fest in  the  flesh,  Immanuel. 

Possibly  part  of  the  Evangelist's  interest  in  the 
baptism  of  Jesus  lay  in  this,  that  in  it  the  symbol 
and  the  thing  signified  coincided.  Ordinarily,  in 
the  Baptist's  preaching,  water  and  the  Spirit  are 
contrasted :  here  the  one  accompanies  the  other. 
This  is  the  type  of  the  Christian  baptism  with 
which  the  author  and  his  readers  are  familiar.  In 
it  water  and  the  Spirit  normally  coincide.  This 
may  seem  a  not  very  real  idea  to  us ;  but  we  have 
to  consider  that  even  wthin  the  first  century 
Christianity  was  assuming  some  of  the  features  of 
a  sacramental  system,  that  much  in  the  mental 
sympathies  of  the  early  centuries  found  this  con- 
genial, and  that  it  might  seem  not  unimportant 
to  find  at  the  very  beginning  of  its  history  its 
fundamental  rite  undergone  by  the  Founder,  and 
proved  to  be  not  only  a  form,  but  a  power. 

The  turning  of  the  water  into  wine  is  no  doubt 
a  symbol  of  the  whole  work  of  Jesus, — the  raising 
of  religion  to  a  higher  power,  or,  more  specifically, 
tlie  elevation  of  water-baptism  into  baptism  witli 
holy  spirit.  The  Spirit,  however,  is  not  men- 
tioned in  this  connexion,  and  we  get  into  closer 
quarters  \\\t\\  the  subject  in  cli.  3.  There  the 
decisive  word  is  v.'*  '  Except  a  man  be  born  i^ 
CSoTO!  Kal  irveiiMTOi,  he  cannot  enter  into  the  king- 
dom of  God.'  It  is  not  the  mind  of  Jesus  with 
which  we  are  immediately  dealing,  but  the  mind 
of  Jesus  as  interpreted  in  the  mind  of  the  Evan- 
gelist and  in  the  circumstances  of  his  time. 
Granting  tliis,  it  seems  to  the  present  \vriter  quite 
impossible  to  question  either  a  reference  to  Bap- 
tism here  or  one  to  the  Supper  in  ch.  6.  Nor  is 
the  meaning  of  the  reference  doubtful.  As  in  the 
baptism  of  Jesus,  so  in  Christian  baptism,  water 
and  spirit  are  not  thought  of  as  in  contrast,  but  as 
in  conjunction.  No  question  is  raised  as  to  the 
conditions  under  which  baptism  was  administeretl 
— conditions  of  penitence  and  of  faith  in  Christ  on 
the  part  of  the  baptized.  These  are  assumed  as 
familiar  to  everyone.  But  under  these  conditions 
the  new  birth  is  connected  unequivocally  ■with  the 
Spirit  and  with  the  rite  in  the  administration  of 
which  the  Spirit  is  normally  present.  One  of  the 
great  words  and  ideas  of"  the  Gospel  is  'life.' 
Sometimes  it  is  spoken  of  simply  as  the  gift  of 
God.  The  Father  has  given  to  the  Son  to  have 
life  in  Himself,  and  the  Son  gives  life  to  whom 
He  will  (5-'-=«).  Here,  licwevcr,  the  life  is  con- 
ceived on  the  anulooy  ,,)  natural  life,  and  the 
entrance  into  it  is  by' a  birth  wliich  depends  on 
the  act  of  God  tliimigh  His  Spirit.  The  life  with 
wliich  we  are  here  concerned  is  nothing  less  than 
the  eternal  life  of  God  Himself  (1  Jn  P),  and  only 
God  can  beget  it  in  the  soul.  To  be  born  of  Goil 
and  born  of  the  Spirit  are  the  same  thing  (1  Jn 
229  39  518).  When  Jesus  says,  '  That  whicli  is  l)orn 
of  the  flesh  is  flesh,  and  that  which  is  born  of  tlie 
Spirit  is  spirit '  (Jn  3*),  He  means  that  it  is  not  any- 
thing we  owe  to  our  fathers  and  mothers,  but  only 
something  we  owe  to  God,  which  quickens  the  life 
of  God  in  us.  Put  with  this  generality,  it  might 
seem  as  though  the  Spirit  here  had  no  connexion, 
or  no  particular  connexion,  with  Christ ;  it  is 
almost  as  though  we  were  at  the  OT  stage,  at 
wliich  the  Spirit  is  merely  a  synonym  for  God 
acting.  But  to  say  this  is  to  forget  the  connexion 
here  asserted  of  the  Spirit  and  the  Christian  sacra- 
ment of  baptism.  It  is  through  baptism  in  tlie 
name  of  Jesus  that  the  Spirit  is  received  ;  and  just 
as  the  TTfevna  fuoTroiow  of  St.  Paul  is  tlie  Spirit  of 
the  Risen   Saviour,  so  here,  in  the  sense  of  the 


HOLY  SPIRIT 


HOLY  SPIRIT 


741 


Evangelist,  it  is  the  same  Spirit,  acting  in  and 
through  tlie  ordinance  of  the  Kisen  Saviour,  that 
is  tlie  source  of  all  IJivine  life.  As  the  conversa- 
tion goes  on,  too,  while  the  water,  as  merely  sym- 
bolical, drops  out  {it  only  appears  in  v.^),  and  the 
Spirit  remains  by  itself  (v."),  attention  is  directed 
to  the  Son  of  Man,  lifted  up  as  Moses  lifted  up 
the  serpent  in  the  wilderness,  that  whosoever 
believes  may  in  Him  have  eternal  life.  Here  we 
have  the  ideas  introduced  which  define  the  Spirit 
— the  experiences  through  which  the  e.xperience  of 
the  Spirit  comes  to  us  with  life-giving  power.  The 
new  birth  is  mysterious,  indeed,  in  all  its  aspects  ; 
it  is  like  the  wind  which  blows  where  it  will.  \Ve 
cannot  tell  how  it  originates  or  in  wliat  it  will 
end.  But  it  is  not  blankly  inystcriuus,  and  there 
is  nothing  magical  in  its  connexion  with  the  sacra- 
ment. It  comes  into  experience  along  with  other 
things  which  form  part  of  the  same  system  of 
reality  with  it, — the  sin-bearing  death  of  Christ, 
the  proclamation  of  that  death,  sind  believing 
surrender  to  it.  All  this  is  concentrated  and 
symbolized  in  baptism  ;  and  it  is  because  of  this 
that  baptism  and  being  born  of  the  Sjjirit  are 
represented  as  coincident.  Baptism  is  a  kind  of 
focal  point  in  which  all  the  quickening  powers  of 
God  in  Christ  crucified  tell  upon  the  soul  under 
the  conditions  of  penitence  and  faith  which  make 
them  effective.  The  life  that  comes  to  \is  in  this 
experience  is  the  life  of  the  Spirit,  the  Divine 
life ;  but  quite  deiinitely  also  it  is  a  life  which 
we  owe  to  the  death  of  Christ.  (To  apply  this  con- 
ception of  baptismal  regeneration  to  the  case  of 
infants  is  to  desert  the  ground  of  experience,  on 
which  the  Apostle  speaks  throughout,  for  what  is 
to  us  an  unconditioned  void.  In  this  adventure 
the  NT  gives  us  no  assistance  whatever). 

At  the  close  of  ch.  3  we  revert,  apparently  in 
words  of  the  Bai)tist,  really  in  words  of  the  Evan- 
gelist, to  the  idea  of  the  Spirit  as  bestowed  on 
Jesus  by  God.  He  whom  God  sent  speaks  the 
words  of  God  ;  He  does  this,  and  can  do  it,  because 
God  gives  not  the  Spirit  by  measure  to  Him  (S**). 
Here  the  idea  is  like  tliat  in  1  Co  2"  :  'As  no  man 
knows  the  thiiiu^  nf  a  man  save  the  .siiirit  of  a 
man  wliicl]  is  in  liini.  even  so  the  things  of  God  no 
man  knows,  but  the  Spirit  of  God.'  It  is  in  virtue 
of  having  this  Spirit,  not  partially  but  completely, 
that  Jesus  speaks  the  words  of  God  ;  in  distinction 
from  those  who  had  only  partial  and  transient 
illumination,  He  has  received  the  Spirit  in  its  ful- 
ness and  is  the  Word  incarnate.  To  have  the 
Spirit  in  this  sense  and  measure,  to  be  the  Word 
made  flesh,  and  to  have  all  things  put  into  His 
hand  by  the  Father  (3'^'-  5-°),  are  one  and  the  same 
thing. 

The  absence  of  any  allusion  to  the  Spirit  in  ch.  4 
(where  Jesus  ofi'ers  t^ie  '  living  water ')  and  in  ch.  5 
(where  we  are  told  that  the  Son  gives  life  to  whom 
He  will :  with  fMOTroic?;',  v.=',  cf.  St.  Paul's  Tpevfi.a 
fuoTToioOj',  1  Co  15''*,  and  Jn  6*')  is  very  remarkable  ; 
but  it  has  an  exact  parallel  in  the  complete  absence 
of  the  Spirit  from  Ho  6.  When  we  come  to  ch.  6 
it  is  different.  Tlu^  reference  here  to  the  Supper 
is  as  unmistakable  as  that  to  Baptism  in  ch.  3. 
The  discourse  starts  from  the  bread  of  life,  but  the 
general  idea  of  feeding  on  Christ  or  living  on  Him 
by  faith,  is  specified  as  it  proceeds,  in  agreement 
with  the  ritual  of  the  Supper,  into  eating  His  flesh 
and  drinking  His  blood.  In  the  most  intense  and 
vehement  expressions  of  this  kind,  indeed,  there  is 
never  anything  more  than  in  v.-"('  He  that  bilicM'th 
hath  etern.al  life')  or  in  v."  ('lie  that  .■'ifr//i  i,ir 
shall  live  by  me').  It  is  ncit  only  cdnrcivalile,  but 
highly  probable,  especially  in  view  cjf  a  passage 
like  1  Co  10,  that  when  tl'iis  ili:i|itcr  was  written 
materialistic  and  superstitions  i.Iras  about  the 
sacrament  of  the  Supper  were  already  current  in 


the  Church,  and  that  the  Evangelist  has  the  ex- 
press design  of  correcting  them.  He  has  no  hesita- 
tion in  using  the  boldest  liturgical  language  :  he 
speaks  of  eating  the  flesh  and  drinking  the  blood 
of  the  Son  of  Man  in  a  tone  whi(-li  .seems  almost 
intended  to  challenge,  if  not  to  defy,  inli'lligence  ; 
he  recognizes  by  doing  so  that  only  ianiiuage  of 
poetic  intensity  like  this,  to  whicli  it.  is  al.surdto 
say  that  a  symbol  is  imly  a  .symbul,  is  appropriate 
in  worslii].  ;  yit  jnst  as  in  ch.  3  water  is  mentioned 
only  <inic,  ami  I  In-  Spirit  afterwards  spoken  of  inde- 
pendently M.  hrir  any  risk  of  religious  materialism 
is  s%\e|.t.  a«  ay  in  the  words,  '  It  is  the  spirit  which 
gives  life  .  .  .  the  worils  th.at  I  have  spoken  to  you 
are  s/,inl  ami  are  lifr. '  (v.e=).  There  is  no  deprecia- 
sacianieiit  here  any  more  than  in  ch.  3, 

Itaf         " ^  ^     .  _  ■ 

a  safeguard  a-aiiis(  (he 'super- 
It  is  iKilIiini;  material,  no  res 
lich  the  l.elievrr  A,-]H-uds  for 
donl.t  Clirisl,  tin-  Christ  who 
as  true  lood  and  His  blood  as 
in  all  llie  truth  of  His  hnmanit' 


tion  of 

and  no 

to  it ;  but  ther 

stitious  abuse  of  i 

sacrui/ioiti,    on    v 

eternal   life.      IS'i 

speaks  of  His  lUs 

true  drink  (V.'"),  is,  m  all  I  lie  truth  ot  Ills  Mnmanity 

and  His  I'.ission,  the  meat  and  drink  of  the  soul, 

and  the  believer  realizes  this  in  the  sacrament; 

but  it  is  not  through  the  material  elements  that 

Christ  sustains  sinritual  life  ;  if  His  words  are  read 

in  this  sense,  their  character  is  misconceived  ;  they 

are  taken  out  of  the  region  of  spirit  and  life  to 

which  they  belong,   and  in  which  alone  Christ 

vivifies  men. 

One  of  the  most  characteristic  passages  on  the 
Spirit  is  V"-.  On  the  last  day  of  the  Feast  of 
Tabernacles,  Jesus  stands  in  the  Temple  and  cries, 
'  If  any  man  thirst,  let  him  come  unto  me  and 
drink.  The  words  are  on  a  level  with  those  in  ch. 
4,  in  which  He  promises  the  living  water  to  the 
woman  at  the  well.  But  here  Jesus  goes  further. 
'He  that  believeth  in  me,'  He  adds,  'as  said  the 
Scripture,  Gut  of  his  belly  shall  flow  rivers  of 
living  water.'  Without  discussing  the  reference 
to  '  Scripture,' what  does  this  mean?  The  Evan- 
gelist himself  interprets  the  words  :  '  This  he  said 
of  the  Spirit  which  those  who  believed  on  him  were 
to  receive,  for  as  yet  there  was  no  Spirit  {oiliroi  yap 
fiv  iri'eO/j.a),  for  Jesus  was  not  yet  glorified.'  Tliis 
is  clearly  written  from  the  standpoint  of  experi- 
ence and  fulfilment.  After  Jesus  was  glorified 
through  death  and  resurrection,  those  who  be- 
lieved had  experience  of  His  power  such  as  they 
had  never  had  before.  They  had  owed  Him  much 
while  they  were  with  Him  on  earth  ;  He  had  in  a 
sense  satisfied  their  own  spiritual  needs  (6"*'-) ;  He 
had  given  them  the  bread  of  life  to  eat  and  the 
living  water  to  drink.  But  now  He  did  more.  He 
came  to  them  in  a  power  which  enabled  them  to 
be  witnesses  to  Him  ;  others  obtained  the  Spirit 
through  them  ;  the  living  water  which  He  had 
given  them  overflowed  from  them  as  from  an  in- 
exhaustilde  spring.  Whether  this  is  what  Jesus 
meant  or  not,  it  is  true  ;  it  answers  to  the  facts  of 
the  case  as  the  whole  of  the  NT  reveals  them. 
Pentecost  was  inconceivable  to  the  Evangelist  ex- 
cept as  the  sequel  to  the  Passion  and  Exaltation  of 
Jesus ;  the  possession  of  the  Spirit  which  is  the 
characteristic  of  the  new  era  is  determined  in  point 
of  fact  by  these  antecedents.  We  have  seen  the 
same  connexion  of  ideas  already  in  the  chapters  on 
the  sacraments :  the  Passion  of  Christ  is  as  un- 
mistakably present  in  3'=  and  6"-="  as  in  1'".  It 
s(>ems  very  uraluilous,  then,  to  argue  with  Wendt 
that  till'  JAanjili  I  has  mistaken  Jesus,  and  that 
our  l.oid  mraii    no  more  here  than  in  ch.  4. 

Till'  .lohannino  conception  of  the  Spirit  conies 
out  most  fully  in  (lis.  14-16.  The  Spirit  may  be 
said  to  lie  the  main  subject  in  the  discourses  in 
which  Jesus  preiiares  the  discijiles  for  His  de- 
parture.    All  the  difficulties  connected  with  the 


742 


HOLY  SPIRIT 


HOLY  SPIRIT 


words  of  Jesus  in  the  Fourtli  Gosjiel  liavL-  to  be 
allowed  for  here ;  to  draw  the  line  between  wluit 
was  literally  said  by  Jesus  at  the  moment  and 
what  is  due  to  the  eommentaiy  of  experience  inter- 
preting His  remembered  words,  might  have  seemed 
to  the  Evangelist  liimself  not  only  unreal  but  un- 
spiritual.     The  follow  ing  points  may  be  noted. 

(1)  The  first  hint  of  the  future  suggests  the  sur- 
passing greatness  of  the  experiences  which  the 
Spirit  was  to  bring.  '  He  that  believeth  on  me, 
the  works  that  I  do  shall  he  do  also  ;  and  greater 
works  than  these  shall  he  do  ;  because  I  go  to  the 
Father.  And  whatsoever  ye  shall  ask  in  my 
name,  tliat  will  I  do,  that  the  Father  may  be 
glorified  in  the  Son  '  (14'-'-).  The  Spirit  is  not  yet 
named,  but  we  can  see  that  it  is  in  the  writer's 
mind.  The  overwhelming  experiences  of  the  Apos- 
tolic age,  the  great  movement  then  inaugurated, 
the  new  sense  of  the  power  of  prayer  as  it  takes  hold 
of  the  name  of  Jesus,  cast  beforehand  the  shadow 
of  their  coming  in  these  amazing  words.  This  is 
a  promise  of  the  Spirit,  though  the  name  is  not 
mentioned  ;  and  indeed  nothing  short  of  their  ful- 
filment in  the  Apostolic  age  could  have  enabled 
tlie  writer  to  recall  such  words,  or  to  believe  them, 
or  to  have  any  idea  of  what  they  might  mean. 

(2)  Immediately  after,  the  language  becomes 
more  precise,  and  the  Spirit  is  expressly  men- 
tioned 14'''''-  'If  you  love  me,  you  will  keep  my 
commandments.  And  I  ^^■ill  ask  the  Father,  and 
he  shall  give  you  another  Comforter,  that  he  may 
be  with  you  for  ever ;  even  the  Spirit  of  truth ; 
which  the  world  cannot  receive,  because  it  does  not 
see  or  know  it  (ain-d).  You  know  it ;  for  it  dwells 
with  you,  and  shall  he  in  you.  I  wUl  not  leave  you 
desolate  :  I  come  unto  you.'  "What  strikes  us  first 
here  is  the  new  name  given  to  the  S])irit,  dWof 
TapaK\-qTov.  It  is  indeed  only  the  name  which  is 
new  :  in  idea  it  answers  closely  to  the  only  promise 
of  the  Spirit  which  we  find  in  the  Synoptic  Gospels. 
These  older  writers  (apart  from  Lk  11",  which  is 
no  real  exception)  only  speak  of  the  Spirit  as  a 
future  pcssession  of  the  disciples  in  Mk  13",  Lk 
12'-,  Mt  10".  The  situation  contemplated  is  that 
in  which  the  disciples  are  brought  before  judges 
and'kings  to  bear  testimony  to  their  Master.  That 
is  the  hour  in  which  they  need  an  advocatus,  a 
counsel,  a  TrapdicXTjTos  ;  and  Jesus  promises  that  they 
will  have    one    in    the    Spirit.      Tlie    expression 


'  another  advocate '  implies  that  the  disc 
Himself.     As  long  as  He 


have 


already  had  experience  of  one,  namely,  of  Jesus 

■      ■  ng 

strength  was  reinforced  from  Hlni ;  and  when  He 
goes,  then,  in  response  to  His  intercession,  His 
place  is  taken  by  the  Spirit.  There  is  another 
power  with  them  now  wiiich  does  for  them  what 
Jesus  did  before.  Yet  is  it  really  another  ?  In  1  Jn 
2'  it  is  Jesus  who  is  the  irapd«.\7rros,  even  after 
Pentecost ;  and  even  here  ( Jn  U'*)  He  says,  '  /  come 
xmto  you.'  The  presence  of  the  Spirit  is  Jesus' 
own  presence  in  spirit ;  we  are  reminded  anain  of 
2  Co  3"  and  of  Mt  28«'.  In  the  spirit  Jesus  will  be 
with  His  OAvn  for  ever,  will  dwell  by  tliem  and  be 
in  them.  What  is  meant  at  this  point  by.  calling 
the  Spirit  the  Spirit  of  truth  (Jn  14")  is  not  quite 
clear,  but  some  contrast  is  implied  between  it  and 
the  world  (cf.  1  Co  2'2).  The  world,  as  Plato  miglit 
have  said,  is  tlie  great  sophist ;  it  is  a  realm  of 
deceits  and  illusions,  by  which  the  mind  of  the 
disciple,  were  he  left  to  himself,  might  easily  be 
put  at  fault ;  but  in  the  Spirit  tlic  dis(i|.le  lias  a 
safeguard  against  its  subtleties  and  Mi|,lii-i  icntions  ; 
he  is  kept  in  the  truth  wliich  s:ni(tilic-  ln'ausoit 
is  one  with  Got!,  truth  as  truth  is  in  .Tcsus  (17'", 
E]ih  4-').  There  is  no  definition  here  of  the  rela- 
tion of  the  Spirit  to  Jesus  or  to  the  Fatlier,  though 
it  might  be  said  that  the  Spirit  is  the  altir  rgo  of 
Jesus.     Only,  it  is  the  Son  who  asks  the  Fatlier 


and  tlie  Fallierwlio  gives  tlic  Spirit  ;  the  three  are 
one  as  tliey  confront  tlie  disciples,  co-operating  for 
tlieir  salvation.  In  this  Gospel,  as  everywhere  in 
tlie  NT,  the  Sjiirit  belongs  to  the  same  region  as 
the  Father  and  the  Son ;  it  is  included  in  what  a 
Christian  means  when  he  speaks  of  '  God.'  This  is 
the  Catholic  doctrine  of  the  Trinity ;  no  man 
means  all  that  a  Christian  means  by  '  God '  unless 
he  puts  into  '  God '  all  that  is  meant  by  the  separate 
terms  '  Father,'  '  Son,'  and  '  Spirit.'  This  is  a  pro- 
position which  is  securely  based  on  experience,  and 
which  is  implied  in  NT  experience  from  the  day  of 
Pentecost  onward  (see  Ac  2*',  1  Co  12^-6,  Eph  2'», 
Jn  14-*).  More  particularly,  too,  it  may  be  said 
that  the  Spirit  in  the  Fourth  Gospel  belongs  to 
the  Kingdom  of  God  and  to  the  religion  of  revela- 
tion :  to  the  world  it  is  unknown.  And  within 
the  Messianic  realm  the  full  experience  of  it  is 
ethically  conditioned  :  '  If  ye  love  me,  ye  will  keep 
my  commandments,  and  I  will  ask  the  Father,'  etc. 
(3)  The  next  reference  to  the  Spirit  (14=«)  is  still 
more  definite.  'The  Paraclete,  the  Holy  Spirit, 
which  the  Father  shall  send  in  my  name,  he 
{(Kiivoi)  shall  teach  you  all  tilings,  and  shall  bring 
to  your  remembrance  all  things  that  I  said  unto 
you.'  Both  the  masculine  pronoun  (iKuvoi)  and 
the  function  ('he  shall  teach ')  represent  the  Spirit 
as  personal,  with  a  definiteness  hitherto  un- 
noticed. Not  that  suggestions  of  this  are  wanting 
elsewhere  (cf.  esp.  1  Co  12"),  and,  of  comse,  it  must 
be  in  the  last  resort  meaningless  to  speak  of  the 
spirit  of  a  personal  God  as  itself  impersonal  ;  but 
very  often  the  meaning  is  covered  by  the  idea  of 
an  impulse  communicated  by  God,  whereas  here 
the  personalizing  is  much  more  definite  and  con- 
scious. The  function  of  teaching  or  revealing, 
which,  as  we  have  seen  above,  has  but  a  small 
space  and  a  mainly  eschatological  reference  in  St. 
Paul,  is  far  more  prominent  in  St.  John,  and  far 
more  decisively  defined  by  relation  to  the  historical 
Saviour.  The  Spirit  does  not  teach  independently, 
but  brings  to  remembrance  all  things  that  Jesus 
said  to  the  Twelve,  inro/xy^irei  is  a  word  on  which 
it  is  worth  while  to  dwell.  The  Evangelist  gives 
us  two  illustrations  of  things  which  the  disciples 
remembered  after  the  Spirit  came,  and  which 
received  a  new  meaning  as  they  rose  in  the  spiritual 
light.  When  He  rose  from  the  dead,  they  remem- 
bered the  word  that  He  spoke  about  destroyin" 
the  temple  and  rebuilding  it  in  three  days  ;  it  had 
slept  in  their  memories,  an  inert,  meaningless, 
and  therefore  forgotten  thing ;  now  it  leapt  into 
meaning,  and  they  had  a  vivid  recollection  of  it 
(2--).  Cf.  12"  of  the  circumstances  of  the  Trium- 
phal Entry.  We  cannot  think  of  these  two  illus- 
trations without  asking.  What  is  involved  in  the 
spiritually  quickened  action  of  memory  in  such 
cases?  Something  is  recalled,  but  it  is  not  only 
recalled,  it  is  for  the  first  time  understood  :  it  is 
remembered  becau.se  a  key  to  it  has  liecn  found  ; 
it  is  not  only  the  dream,  so  to  speak,  wliich  is 
recalled,  but  the  dream  and  its  iiiterinctation 
together.  AVIk-h;  events  have  deeply  interested 
and  inipr(--iil  nirn,  .is  the  words  and  works  of 
Jesus  did  111"  ili-.iiil.-.  .-111.1  especially  where  they 
have  initiaii'.l  :jii-:ii  spiritual  movements  in  Avhicli 
their  significance  has  become  apparent,  memory 
cannot  lie  insulated  so  as  to  perceive  them  in  a 
purely  neutral  or  'objective'  fashion.  They  are 
remembered  in  the  heart  as  well  as  in  the  brain  ; 
they  are  remembered  with  an  ardour  which  con- 
teniplates,  explores,  makes  discoveries,  worships  ; 
and  when  they  are  reproduced  in  the  Spirit,  it  is 
not  the  unintelligent  and  misleading  truth  of  an 
amateur  photograph  with  which  we  are  confronted, 
but  something  like  the  work  of  a  great  painter, 
something  which  is  truer  in  a  manner  than  tlie 
most  literal  recollection  would  be.     It  is  not  open 


HOLY  SPIKIT 


HOLY  SPIRIT 


743 


to  question  that  the  Fourth  Gospel  is,  in  tliis  sense, 
a  '  spiritual '  Gospel  ;  it  is  the  decisive  proof  that 
the  words  of  Jesus  in  142«  have  been  fulfilled.  On 
the  relation  of  Father,  Son,  and  Spirit,  this  pas- 
sage only  confirms  what  has  been  said  above  under 
(2). 

(4)  In  15*  many  have  sought  for  more  than  it 
contains.  Here  it  is  the  Son  who  sends  the  Spirit 
from  the  Father,  and  the  Spirit  is  described  as 
that  which  proceeds  from  the  Father.  To  pretend 
that  we  can  distinguish  between  the  '  procession ' 
of  the  Spirit  from  the  Father  and  the  '  generation ' 
of  the  Son  by  the  Father,  is  only  to  invite  Gibbon's 
sneer  about  '  the  science,  or  ratlier  the  language  of 
metaphjrsics.'  The  really  important  point  here  is 
that  which  has  already  emerged  in  Rev  19]"  (see 
above) :  CKetvos  ixaprvprqaei.  irepl  (fi-oO.  Christ  is  the 
Spirit's  subject.  The  Spirit  is  the  Spirit  of  truth 
because  it  bears  witness  to  Him  who  can  say,  '  I 
am  the  truth '  (14").  The  truth  with  wliich  it  deals 
is  that  which  is  incarnate  in  Christ,  the  very  same 
truth  to  which  the  Apostles  also  are  to  bear  wit- 
ness, because  they  have  been  with  Hini  from  the 
beginning  (15"). 

(5)  The  climax  of  our  Lord's  teaching  in  this 
line  is  reached  in  16"'^'.  Here  Jesus  announces  the 
paradoxical  truth  that  it  is  expedient  for  the  dis- 
ciples that  He  should  leave  them,  because  the  com- 
ing of  tlie  Paraclete  is  dependent  on  His  departure. 
There  arc  natural  Miialogies  to  this  :  often  there  is 
a  truer  apiireciation,  even  of  a  person  who  has 
been  intimately  known  and  loved,  after  death  than 
before,  a  more  adequate  possession  in  memory 
than  there  was  in  actual  intercourse.  But  more 
is  meant  here  than  that  the  disciples  will  get  a 
better  view  of  Jesus  from  a  distance.  It  is  Jesus 
Himself  who  is  to  send  them  tlie  Paraclete,  and  He 
can  do  it,  as  He  has  already  said  (7""),  only  on  the 
ground  of  His  death  and  exaltation.  When  He 
does  do  it,  they  have  not  lost  Him,  they  really 
possess  Him  in  the  power  in  which  He  lives  and 
reigns.  The  functions  of  the  Spirit  are  here  two- 
fold, according  as  they  have  for  their  object  (a)  the 
world  (vv.S;"),  (^)  the  Apostles  themselves  (vv.i3-i=). 
As  for  (a),  it  is  the  Spirit's  function  to  convict  the 
world,  to  reach  its  conscience  with  demonstration, 
in  regard  to  certain  subjects.  This  conviction  is 
not  wrought  in  an  immediate  supernatural  way, 
but  through  tlie  ministry  of  the  Apostles  ;  it  is  to 
them  the  Spirit  comes,  and  through  their  preach- 
ing the  worlil  is  convicted.  It  is  convicted  of  sin, 
because  men  do  not  believe  in  Christ.  This  is 
perhaps  the  most  general  statement  on  sin  in 
Scripture :  it  consists  at  bottom  in  refusing  to  be- 
lieve in  Christ.  If  men  did  believe  in  Him,  sin  in 
all  its  kinds  would  disappear.  Conviction  of  it 
cannot  be  produced  by  denunciation,  or  satire,  or 
clever  exposures,  or  by  what  is  miscalled  know- 
ledge of  human  nature ;  it  can  be  produced  only 
by  witnessing  to  Christ  in  the  power  of  the  Spirit. 
The  Spirit  also  produces  in  the  world  a  conviction 
of  conscience  with  regard  to  rigliteousness.  This 
is  connected  with  the  exaltation  of  Jesus  :  '  I  go  to 
the  Father  and  ye  see  me  no  longer.'  When  this 
exaltation  is  brought  home  to  men's  minds  with 
the  power  of  the  Spirit  (Ac  4''3),  they  realize  that 
there  is  such  a  thing  as  righteousness,  and  that  the 
supreme  power  in  the  world  is  on  its  side.  In  a 
sense  it  might  be  said  that  it  was  easier  to  believe 
in  righteousness  when  men  saw  it  present  in  the 
world,  incarnate  in  Jesus  Christ  the  Righteous  ; 
but  it  is  a  more  solemn  sense  of  its  reality  and 
supremacy  that  rises  in  the  heart  when,  through 
the  power  of  the  Spirit,  we  realize  that  that  right- 
eous One  is  seated  at  the  right  hand  of  the  Father. 
The  third  point  in  regard  to  which  the  Spirit  con- 
victs tlie  world  is  judgment.  This  may  be  said  to 
combine  the  other  two.     Sin  and  righteousness  are 


at  issue  with  each  other,  and  the  Apostolic  minis 
try,  in  the  power  of  the  Spirit,  convinces  men  that 
in  Christ  a  final  judgment  has  been  pronounced 
upon  the  issue.  The  protagonists  in  the  great 
cause — -Christ  and  the  Prince  of  this  world — have 
confronted  each  otlier  decisively,  and  the  Prince  of 
this  world  has  been  judged  (16",  cf.  12^').  A  mind 
unenlightened  or  unconvinced  by  the  Spirit  might 
easily  hold  the  opposite,  and,  looking  to  the  life 
and  death  of  Jesus,  infer  the  impotence  of  the 
good,  its  condemnation,  as  futile  and  ineftective, 
by  the  nature  of  things  ;  but  even  in  the  Cross  of 
Jesus  what  the  Spirit-taught  man  sees  is  the  con- 
demnation of  evil,  the  sentence  which  God  has 
passed  and  will  finally  execute  on  the  Prince  of 
this  world,  the  verdict  of  the  supreme  tribunal  on 
belialf  of  the  good.  Sin,  righteousness,  and  judg- 
ment are  abstract  ideas,  antl  come  home  to  men  in 
their  reality  only  wlien  in  tlie  power  of  the  Spirit 
they  are  interpreted  in  their  connexion  with  Christ. 
In  these  verses  (16*-")  the  main  idea  involved  in 
the  S))irit  is  that  of  power  :  it  is  what  is  required 
to  make  the  Apostles'  message  efi'ective  (cf.  Ac  4^, 
1  Th  P,  1  Co  '»,  2  Co  &'■).  But  when  we  pass  to 
((3)  vv.i2-'=,  the  main  i(U'a  is  that  of  illumination. 
The  Sjurit  is  i'(m(ci\ cd  as  giving  the  disciples  that 
coraprehensiim  ni  Cliii^l  \\  hich,  according  to  St. 
Paul  also  (sec  i!  Cii  ;i),  is  necessary  to  make  a  man 
a  fit  minister  of  tlie  new  covenant,  not  of  letter  but 
of  spirit.  Both  kinds  of  sufficiency — that  of  power 
and  that  of  illumination — are  of  God,  and  specific- 
ally of  the  Spirit.  If  w.^-^i  state  the  dependence 
of  the  Evangelist  on  the  Spirit,  vv.'^"'"  state  the 
dependence  of  the  theologian  on  the  Spirit.  The 
idea  underlying  the  latter  passage  is  that  of  v.'- : 
Jesus  is  greater  than  His  words.  When  the  time 
comes  for  Him  to  leave  His  disciples,  many  things 
remain  unuttered.  Many  things  are  involved  in 
His  presence  in  the  world,  and  especially  in  His 
impending  Passion,  which  He  understands,  but 
they  do  not  and  cannot :  are  these  things  to  be 
lost  for  ever  ?  Is  the  significance  of  Jesus  to  be  so 
far  thrown  away  ?  This  is  not  what  Jesus  contem- 
plates. On  the  contrary,  the  Spirit  which  He 
promises  as  the  Spirit  of  truth  will  have  this  as 
His  very  task,  to  initiate  them  into  the  whole 
meaning  of  Jesus.  He  will  lead  them,  not  into  all 
truth,  but  into  all  the  truth— that  is,  the  truth 
which  is  embodied  in  Him  in  all  its  dimensions. 
The  new  point  which  is  empliasized  here  about 
the  Spirit  is  that  He  shall  not  speak  of  Himself 
{atj>'  eavTov,  i.e.  of  His  own  motion,  self-prompted 
or  independently).  Many  scholars,  in  reading 
what  is  told  of  spiritual  gifts  in  Acts  or  the 
Pauline  Epistles,  have  felt  that  the  early  Church 
ran  a  real  risk.  Who  c-duhl  tell  whether  the 
Spirit,  under  tliu  imimlsc  cif  wliicli  men  uttered 
themselves,  did  not  sonictiiiics  s[ieak  of  itself,  and 
say  things  which  may  liave  been  in  a  vague  sense 
TTufv/iaTiKa.,  but  were  not  in  any  true  sense  Chris- 
tian ?  We  have  seen  already  how  St.  Paul  met 
this  danger.  Partly  (as  in  1  Th  5""",  1  Co  14)  he 
provides  for  the  control  of  'sjiiritual'  utterances 
by  the  gift  of  discernment  or  by  the  common  sense 
of  the  Christian  .society.  Partly  (as  in  1  Co  12») 
he  lays  down  a  dogmatic  criterion  of  what  is 
Christian.  This  latter  course  is  fol- 
so  in  1  Jn.  (4=)  :  the  spirit  which  is  really 
of  God  is  that  which  cimfesses  Jesus  Christ  as 
come  in  flesh,  in  ((iiilr.ist  with  a  more  'spiritual' 
kind  of  spirit  wliicIi  did  not  allow  the  heavenly 
Christ  to  ally  Himself  permanently,  and  especially 
by  birth  and  death,  to  our  humanity.  But  what 
we  have  here  in  the  Gospel  is  really  more  search- 
ing, and  goes  to  the  root  of  the  matter.  The 
Spirit,  personally  as  it  is  here  conceived,  is  not  a 
pure  spontaneity ;  it  is  always  historically  prompted 
and  historically  controlled.     What  viniiicates  any 


genuinely 
lowed  also 


744 


HOLY  SPIRIT 


HOLY  THING 


utterance  as  spiiitual  is  that  it  is  a  testimony  to 
the  historical  Saviour.  What  the  Spirit  hears— all 
that  He  hears— He  shall  speak.  It  is  not  easy  to 
say  how  tlie  Spirit  is  conceived  as  hearing,  hut  the 
main  point  is  clear :  hearing  precedes  speaking, 
and  limits  and  controls  it.  In  particular,  it  is  said 
of  the  Spuit,  '  He  shall  announce  to  you  the  things 
that  are  coming.'  Westcott,  interpreting  rd  epx6- 
//.eva  on  the  analogy  of  the  Messianic  6  ipx^moo^, 
and  thinking  of  the  needs  of  the  Apostles  at  the 
stage  of  transition  between  the  old  and  the  new 
era,  finds  the  main  reference  in  this  to  be  to  the 
constitution  of  the  Christian  Church :  the  Spirit 
will  enable  the  Apostles  to  understand  (by  antici- 
pating ?)  the  new  age  on  which  they  are  about  to 
enter.  Godet  is  inclined  to  render  the  words  in  a 
more  prophetic  sense,  and  regards  them  a-s  having 
their  fultilment  in  the  Apocalypse.  This  is  too 
precise  :  perhaps  if  we  said  '  in  apocalypses '  (such 
as  are  suggested  by  1  Co  2<"-  W^-^,  Eph  I''')  it 
would  be  nearer  the  mark.  It  is  a  special  function 
of  the  Spirit  to  animate  hope  by  unveiling  the 
future  (H.  Holtzmann,  Handcom.  ad  loc).  But 
whatever  the  special  reference  in  rd  epxi/ieva  may 
be,  the  work  of  the  Spirit  on  this  side  Ls  summed 
up  in  the  words  dKc'iyos  i/ii  Soia(rei.  In  every  sense 
ot  the  terms  the  Spirit's  work  is  to  testify  to 
Christ — to  wliat  He  is,  to  His  words,  to  wliat  He 
lias  done  and  sufi'ered,  to  what  He  is  to  acliieve. 
In  this  His  function,  if  not  His  being,  as  the  Spirit 
of  truth  is  exhausted.  And  to  say  that  He  uses 
only  what  is  Christ's  is  not  to  narrow  the  range  or 
the  means  of  His  action  ;  for,  as  the  Speaker  goes 
on  to  say,  '  All  that  the  Father  hath  is  mine.'  All 
that  belongs  to  the  truth  of  God's  Fatherhood  is 
revealed  in  the  Son,  and  all  that  is  revealed  in  the 
Son  is  interpreted  and  vivified  by  the  Spirit.  The 
most  striking  feature  of  this  passage  is,  after  all, 
that  with  which  it  opens  :  '  I  have  many  tilings  to 
say  unto  you,  but  ye  cannot  bear  tliem  now,'  with 
the  implicit  promise  that  they  should  hear  the 
Spirit  say  them  when  they  were  able  to  bear  it. 
The  Apostolic  reading  of  the  truth,  as  truth  is  in 
Jesus,  is  perfectly  conscious  that  it  goes  beyond 
the  i2)sissima  verba  which  Jesus  spoke  on  earth ; 
but  the  Apostles  would  have  felt  it  strangely  un- 
real if  they  had  been  asked  to  cut  down  their  testi- 
mony to  Jesus  to  what  Jesus  Himself  had  expressly 
j)ut  into  words.  There  were  many  things  which 
circumstances  made  it  impossible  for  Him  to  put 
into  word.s — many  things  which  it  was  rather  for 
them  to  say  about  Him  than  for  Him  to  say  about 
Himself ;  but  when  they  said  these  things,  under 
the  guiding  and  quickening  impulse  of  His  Spirit, 
they  had  no  doubt  that  they  were  declaring  the 
truth  of  Christ.  It  was  a  proof  of  '  Clirist  speak- 
ing in  them,'  as  St.  Paul  puts  it  (2  Co  13').  Once 
they  had  listened  to  His  voice  on  earth,  now  they 
heard  Him  in  their  hearts  interpret  all  He  had 
been,  and  between  the  voices  they  made  no  dis- 
tinction. A  great  part  of  the  peculiarity  of  the 
Fourth  Gospel  is  covered  if  we  say  that  the  word 
of  the  Risen  Saviour,  speaking  by  His  Spirit  in  the 
heart  of  the  Apostle,  is  presented  as  though  it  had 
been  actually  spoken  on  earth.  And,  little  as  this 
may  agree  with  our  ideas  of  a  purely  historical 
narrative,  it  is  a  precarious  operation  to  set  asiile 
such  a  testimony,  based  on  Christian  experience 
and  contemplated  by  Christ,  as  though  it  could  be 
merely  irrelevant  to  the  Christian  religion. 

(c)  The  Spirit  in  tlie  First  Epistle  of  John  does 
not  call  for  separate  treatment.  One  important 
pa.ssage  has  been  already  mentioned  (4-) :  another 
(5*"*)  in  wliich  the  Spirit  and  the  sacraments  are 
again  mentioned  in  conjunction  is  to  be  interpreted 
on  the  analogy  of  ch.  3  and  ch.  6  in  the  Gospel  (see 
the  present  writer's  Death  of  Christ,  p.  277  ff.). 

The  NT  hardly  invites  to  any  discussion  of  the 


metaphysics  of  the  Spirit.  Of  course,  it  is  the 
Spirit  of  God,  and  Divine.  It  is  part  of  the  one 
Divine  causality  which— as  Father,  Son,  and  Spirit 
^confronts  the  sinful  world,  and  works  in  unison 
for  its  redemption.  It  belongs  unmistakably  to 
the  sphere  of  the  Divine,  not  of  the  human.  Yet 
there  is  something  in  man  which  is  akin  to  it, 
and  it  is  through  it  that  God  dwells  in  man,  and 
makes  him  partaker  of  the  Divine  nature.  As  the 
Spirit  of  God,  it  cannot  be  truly  thought  of  as  im- 
jier.sonal,  and  yet  it  is  far  more  frequently  spoken 
of  in  a  way  which  is  satisfied  by  the  conception 
of  a  Divine  impulsion  to  or  stimulation  of  human 
thought,  feeling,  oraction,  than  as  a  distinct  per- 
sonality. This  is  so  even  in  writers  who,  like  St. 
Paul  (1  Co  12")  and  St.  John  (16"),  distinctly  have 
the  latter  mode  of  representing  the  Spirit.  Cer- 
tainly the  Spirit  is  not  so  unmistakably  thought  of 
as  a  person  as  is  the  Father  or  the  Son.  We  never, 
for  example,  find  the  Spirit  in  the  salutations  of 
the  Epistles :  '  Grace  to  you  and  peace  from  God 
the  J'ather  and  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ'  is  never 
supplemented  by  'and  from  the  Holy  Spirit.' 
Neither  do  we  ever  find  the  Spirit  united  witTIi  the 
Father  and  the  Son  in  prayer,  as,  e.g.,  in  1  Th  3" 
'Now  our  God  and  Father  himself  and  our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ  direct  our  way  to  you.'  Even  in  the 
Apostolic  benediction  (2  Co  13'^)  it  may  fairly  be 
questioned  whether  the  Spirit  is  conceived  as  per- 
.sonally  as  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  and  God.  As  for 
attempts  to  distinguish  -within  the  Trinity  the 
relation  of  the  Spirit  to  the  Father  from  that  of 
the  Son  to  the  Father  as  'procession'  from  'genera- 
tion,' the  present  writer  can  only  repeat  that  they 
have  no  reality  which  he  can  apprehend.  But  the 
NT  and  Christian  experience  are  at  one  in  teach- 
ing that  the  Christian  conception  of  God  includes 
all  that  is  meant  by  Father,  Son,  and  Spirit ;  and 
as  tlie  omission  of  what  is  meant  by  any  of  these 
terms  leaves  the  Christian  conception  unsatisfied, 
it  may  fairly  be  said  that  the  doctrine  of  the 
Trinity  is  tlil-  fundaiiiontal  doctrine  of  our  faith. 
The  Fatlier,  tlie  Son,  and  the  Sjiirit  in  their  unity 
constitute  the  God  whom  we  know  as  the  God  of 
our  salvation. 

Literature. — Gloel,  Der  hciliffe  Geist  in  der  Beilsverkiindi- 

qunil  (fi's  Pauhi.s,  ISSS  ;  Gvinlit-i,  Die  Wirhinrjen  (Jcs  hciligen 
Grii'r'r  Isi'V  lr^•iIl-  F.  Wood,  Th^  5^t.>V.V  m  (!■■■!  n,  BiljUcal 


JamIvs  Denney. 


HOLY  THING  (t6  4710;').— 1.  Lk  P=  AV  '  There- 
fore also  that  holy  thing  which  shall  be  born  of 
thee  shall  be  called  the  Son  of  God.'  RV  prefers 
to  render,  '  Wherefore  also  that  which  is  to  be  born 
shall  be  called  holy,  the  Son  of  God.'  On  the 
expression  t6  yeww/i.ei'ov  cf.  Mt  1""  t6  .  .  .  yevvriBiv, 
and  for  the  use  of  S.yios  applied  to  our  Lord,  see 
artt.  Holy  One,  Holiness. 

2.  Mt  7*  ixr]  SCrre  rb  dyiOf  toU  Kval.—Tb  Hyiov  is 
usually  taken  to  refer  here  to  .sacrificial  meat  or 
the  proWsion  of  the  priests.  So  Lange,  Alford, 
and  most  Comm.  ;  but  Meyer  objects  to  this  as 
requiring  to  be  more  precisely  designated,  and 
urges  that  Christ  has  in  view  '  the  holy '  in  general, 
and  that  what  is  meant  by  this  is  the  holi/,  because 
Divine,  evangelic  truth  by  which  men  are  converted. 
The  fundamental  idea  of  &yi.os  is  consecration :  t6 
i£7io>',  that  which  is  consecrated  or  .set  apart  to 
the  service  of  God  ;  its  general  opposite  would  be 
/3^/3j7Xo5,  '  profane.'  (See  Westcott  on  He  7°"  and 
literature  of  HOLY  One  generally). 

In  Christian  writings  we  find  rd  dyta  used  for  the 
gifts  as  ottered  in  the  oftertory  or  protliesis,  i.e.  the 
act  of  setting  forth  the  oblation,  and  also  for  the 
consecrated  gifts  ;  thus  in  the  Liturgy  of  the  Nes- 


HOME 


HOME 


74!; 


torians  we  find  the  direction  :  '  Ami  wlieii  tlie  people 
have  received  the  holy  thing,  the  priest,'  etc.  (See 
Brightman,  Liturgies  Eastern  and  Western,  pp. 
122,  301,  379,  398).  J.  B.  Beistow. 

HOME.— 


the! 


1  BbicSt  des  Ln„  t  p  1  .if) 
bl  b  1  d  I  ula  be  o  e-vt  rcss  on  at  h  s  father  s  and 
,tei  u-vted  Fr  phrase  kcz  h  %  The  Vulg  in  Ji  19°'  1  as 
r  ct  parallel      &    t 


2  The  Gosi  cK  all  1 1  us  a  few  ^yta\  ses  of  domes 
tic  interiors,  forming  a  part  of  the  simple  back- 
ground of  the  life  of  Jesus.  We  see  the  common 
domestic  shadows  of  sickness  and  death  beclouding 
the  home  of  Simon  Peter  {Mk  1™),  of  Jalius  (Mk 
5--),  of  the  Roman  officer  (Mt  9?-  ^),  of  Lazarus  and 
liis  sisters  (Jn  11),  and  of  others.  Homely  joys  are 
illustrated  in  the  marriage  at  Cana  (Jn  2),  in  the 
sojourn  of  Jesus  as  a  guest  in  the  home  at  Bethany 
(Lk  1(P,  Jn  121-  -).  Hospitality  and  entertaining 
are  again  exemplified  in  the  case  of  Levi  (Lk  5-') 
and  of  Simon  the  Pharisee  (Lk  7^).  The  ever- 
fresh  interest  attendant  on  the  birth  of  a  child  as  a 
notable  incident  in  home  life  finds  illustration  in 
the  story  of  the  birth  of  John  the  Baptist  (Lk 
J57. 58)  \Y^e  ijave  sight,  too,  of  the  sumptuous 
domestic  establishments  of  the  luxurious  rich  (Lk 
16'"'  -"),  in  contrast  with  the  simple  abodes  of  the 
mass  of  the  people  and  the  condition  of  the  home- 
less poor. 

No  people  ever  prized  the  sanctities  and  blessings 
of  the  home  more  than  the  Jews.  Their  wonderful 
legislation  bearing  on  domestic  atl'airs,  the  senti- 
ments th.-il  (iii.l  c.Ni.rrssiDii  iTi  Tss  !'27.  120,  and  in 
the  pancuyrir  of  the  (I..,,.!  Wife  (rrSl'"-^'),  the 
importaii.r  ali.irliin.^  lollir,  f,-iinilv  as  the  unit  of 
national  life,  :ill  licir  witness  tu  this.  The  whole 
system  of  feasts  and  fasts,  joyous  and  solemn, 
including  the  weekly  Sabbaths  and  the  yearly 
commemorations  and  seasons,— a  system  imparting 
so  much  colour  and  interest  to  the  life  of  the  people 
— also  strongly  tended  to  deepen  the  domestic 
sentiment,  the  home  being  to  so  large  an  extent 
the  theatre  for  the  prescribed  rites  and  observ- 
ances. 

The  general  conditions  of  Jewish  home  life  in 
our  Lord's  day  ottered  marked  points  of  contrast 
with  what  largely  obtains  among  Western  peoples. 
The  greatest  simplicity  in  the  matter  of  meals  and 
clothing,  and  the  fewness  of  other  wants,  con- 
tributed to  an  easier  condition  of  life  in  general. 
Grinding  poverty  was  by  no  means  common. 
Every  man  had  a  trade,  and  every  father  had  to 
teach  his  son  a  trade  ;  but  a  man  was  not  obliged 
to  toil  long  hours  for  a  bare  living.  There  was 
considerable  leisure,  and  the  Palestinian  Jew  had 
much  time  for  contemplation,  like  the  Arab  of  to- 
day. The  man  was  often  abroad  in  public  places, 
frequenting  discussions  in  the  Temple  and  else- 
where, and  mingling  with  his  fellows.  He  was 
also  charged  with  certain  religious  duties  and 
observances  from  whicli  women  were  exempt.  The 
place  of  the  woman,  on  tlie  otlier  hand,  was  pre- 
eminently in  the  liome.  (Note  that  one  of  the 
things  desiderated  for  women  in  Tit  2''  is  that  they 
should  be  oLKovfiyol).  In  this  respect  the  Jews 
shared  tlie  sentiment  of  other  Orient.al  peoples; 
but  the  lot  of  the  Jewish  woman  was  much  superior 


to  that  of  non-Jewish  women  in  the  East,  and  her 
]iosition  in  the  home  was  better  than  that  of  the 
Koman  matron  of  that  period.  A  serious  menace 
to  the  home,  however,  existed  in  the  conditions 
obtaining  as  regards  divorce.  We  know  how 
Jesus  dealt  with  this  great  abuse  of  easy  divorce 
(Ml  10" '°  Mt  19'  »)  Some  of  the  Jewish  Rabbis 
also  (as  SI  ai  lai)  set  thei  selves  against  the 
1  \  t  tl  at  1  It  1  1  (In  (1  p  ^  lole  it  IS 
I   1  1  etter 

\      I  IS 


1     I  >  1  1  /    s     /    /  l->a) 

111  a     I  factoi    m  e  hit  iti  n  >   i    of  the 

reatt  t  1  i  itmce  In  oui  I  ci  1  s  time  theie  was 
fiol  al  I\  in  il  liti  nlya  clojlattle  ynagogue 
taUpjht   ly  t       /  \   icligi  us  atniosihere 

suiioun  k  1  tl      I  1  fioin  the  first  and  the 

mothci  \  a    tl  her     As  soon  as  the 

chil  1  coul  1    I  1  taught  him  a  veise  of 

theTorah(onU  ty    H     1 ,  and  on  the  election 

of  Israel).     See  art.  Childhood. 

3.  AH  interest  in  this  suViject,  so  far  as  the 
Gospels  arc  concurneil,  is  focussecl  in  the  home  at 
Nazareth,  wjiere  .lesiis  spenl  iie.-uly  the  whole  of 
Hislife.  Actual  iiilui  nianuii  as  i., 'the  life  in  that 
home  is  of  the  sranlie  i  ;  liiit  there  can  be  no 
question  that  I  he  liest  ti.ulitidiis  of  the  Jewish 
home  at  its  tiest  were  all  exemplified  there.  There 
eould  never  have  been  a  better  mother-teacher  than 
Mary.  The  round  of  religious  observances  and 
ihitics  would  not  fail  of  senipnlnns  jierformance. 
The  conditions  of  the  Inane  ii  ~elf  w  ere  no  doubt  of 
the  simjilest  and  lowliisl  kind  ;  hul  an  abundance 
of  human  afiection  wa^  an  aini-le  compensation. 
There  was  nothing  to  eri|i]>lc  or  blight  in  any  way 
the  wonderful  young  life  that  was  there  unfolding. 
There  is  room  also  for  interesting  rellexion  as  to 
the  history  and  experience  of  that  family  circle  at 
Nazareth  during  all  the  years  that  Jesus  was  a 
member  of  it.  The  great  crises  of  all  domestic 
life — births,  marriages,  deaths — must  surely,  some 
or  all  of  them,  have  marked  the  history  of  the 
home  of  Jesus  during  those  years.  As  we  think 
of  Joseph,  who,  as  it  is  commonly  agreed,  appears 
to  have  died  at  an  early  period,  and  of  our  Lord's 
'brothers'  and  'sisters'  (Mk  3''  6'),  there  is  every 
reason  to  conclude  that  within  the  circle  of  the 
home  Jesus  had  the  experience  of  human  bereave- 
ment and  sorrow,  and  also  of  rejoicing,  as  His  very 
own. 

i.  From  the  day  of  His  leaving  Nazareth  for  the 
Jordan,  Jesus  ceased  to  have  any  settled  home. 
'The  Son  of  Man,'  He  once  .said,  'hath  not  where 
tolay  his  head'  (Mt  8-»  ||  Lk  9=8).  It  is  true  that 
this  saying  is  not  to  he  taken  too  literally  (see 
Bruce,  With  Open  Face,  ch.  ix.),  for  Jesus  would  be 
welcome  in  the  houses  of  many  friends,  as  He  was 
notably  in  the  home  at  Bethany.  Still,  during 
His  public  ministry  He  surrendered  all  the  quiet 
joys  of  the  old  home  life  at  Nazareth,  and  often  in 
the  course  of  His  constant  journeys  must  have  had 
to  endure  the  hardships  and  privations  of  a  wan- 
derer. When  He  called  His  first  disciples  to  follow 
Him  (Mt  i'sf-  II  Mk  li«'f-,  Lk  5="-),  Ho  was  sum- 
moning them  to  a  life  of  homelessness  resembling 
His  own.  He  made  readiness  to  li'ave  home,  with 
all  its  possessions  and  eii.leannenls,  a  test  of  fitness 
to  be  His  tnie  disei].le  i  Lk  '.)■'"-  ||  Mt  8'"-",  cf.  Mt 
19=' II).  And  thouuh  He  -enl  une  hunie  who  wished 
to  follow  Him  (Alk  .V  ■  l.k  s  '),  lie  laii-ht  that,  in 
principle  at  lea -l .  1 1 1  -  ilie!|il(.-  slaaiM  ke  \\illing  to 
fors.ake  not  call \  Ihni-e  ami  knel^,  km  |iarents  and 
brethren  and  si^lei,,  and  e\en  wife  and  cdiildren, 
for  the  Kingiloia  ..f  Ged's  sake  (Lk  1S=™-  ||  Mt  19=«, 
Mk  lO-"-).     See,  further,  art.  Family. 

LlTr.R.«Ti;nK.— Si-e  tliu  works  cited  at  end  of  art.  Cimldiiood, 
and  add  E.  Stapfer,  Palestine  in  the  Time  of  Jesus  Chritt,  Eng. 


HONESTY 


HONEY 


tr.,  chs.  vii.  and  viii. ;  Stalker,  Imaijo  ChrMi,  ch.  a. ;  Dale, 
Laws  of  Christ,  ch.  xi. 

J.  S.  Clemens. 
HONESTY  (the  subst.  does  not  occur  in  the 
Gospels;  the  adj.  'honest'  is  found  in  both  A V 
and  RV  of  Lk  8»  as  a  rendering  of  /caX6s=Lat. 
hon^stus,  'noble,-  'excellent.'  See  Hastings  Dh 
s  ^  )  —This  virtue  does  not  take  the  prominent 
placV  in  the  teaching  of  Jesus  Christ  that  it 
Assumes  in  most  systems  of  ethics.  Our  Lord 
never  discusses  or  enjoins  it.  The  reasons  tor  Hi^ 
seeming  neglect  of  the  subject  may  be  (D  that 
there  Avas  no  dispute  about  it  in  His  day,  the  bixtu 
commandment  being  taken  for  granted  as  univers- 
ally binding,  (2)  that  He  went  beneath  the  precept 
to  the  principles  underlying  it  when  (a)  He  dis- 
couraged covetousness  (Mk  7-,  Lk  12'5),  and  (6)  He 
bade  His  disciples  do  to  others  as  they  would  that 
others  should  do  to  them  (Mt  7i==Lk  6'i),  and  (3) 
that  He  treated  considerations  of  property  as  ot 
secondary  iiiq  .urt  ance,  so  that  when  it  was  a  question 
of  sutYii  ill"  fi"ui  dishonesty— not  committing  it,  He 
advised  -uliiiiissiun  (Mt  5");  and  when  the  question 
of  the  division  of  an  inheritance  was  submitted  to 
Him,  He  dismissed  it  as  not  mthin  His  provmce, 
and  that  with  a  tone  of  contempt,  as  though  such 
a  matter  had  not  the  importance  people  usually 
attached  to  it  (Lk  12"'-)-  In  life  we  see  that 
dishonesty  generally  indicates  a  radical  rottenness 
of  character.  It  cannot  be  dealt  with  on  pruden- 
tial lines  such  as  are  indicated  by  the  proverb, 
'  Honesty  is  the  best  policy.'  By  creating  the 
Christian  character,  Jesus  cuts  out  the  roots  ot 
dishonesty  in  deceit,  treachery,  and  greed ;  an(l 
implants  those  principles  of  truth  and  honour  of 


Jn   12''),  indicative  of  the 
Lian's  charactT. 

In  the  iianilili      ■  ;'  '    '  '    ■'-'    ~' 


i-ile  hypocrisy  of   the 


^""'I^  I        ,  I .  I  hii-ing  Ih'e  amount  of  their  debts  (Lk 

',',''[■.,      ..  ,',  I,   .it  all  events,  this  appears  to  be  a 

fruioMM,,!  ,.  hi,  uhl  vet  the  steward  is  commended  for 
i,'  .,.,1  l.cH  111'  1"  ilic 'disciples  as  an  example  for  them 
t  f'.llou  it  is  tn  l^e  observed,  however,  that  the  comraenda- 
tton'comes  from  the  rich  ni.xn,  not  from  Christ.  The  mastCT  in 
the  parable  commends  his  steward.  We  Ihausen-m  opposition 
to  Juhcher-- ascribes  v.s  to  Jesus,  citing  as  paraUel  Lk  186. 
Arr-nrrbm'  tn  this  vicw.  0  zMis.'  here  iiicans  'the  Lord  — t.e. 
ChrM  n'ot  "his  Lord,''as  in  AV  and  RV.  But  against  that 
rendering  is  the  fact  that  the  rich  man  is  called  the  steward  8 
■lord'  throughout  the  parable.  The  natural  conclusion  is  that 
the 'lord-  referred  to  in  v.8  is  the  ■  lord ■  previously  mentioned 
in  vv  3  5  Thus,  as  Dr.  Plunimer  remarks,  the  argument,  like 
that  implied  by  the  parable  of  the  Unjust  Judge,  's  a /"/■'•<??• 
Even  a  worthless,  dishonest  steward  is  commended  by  his 
master  at  le.ost  for  shrewdness  ;  much  more,  then,  should  a  true 
servant  of  Christ  act  wisely.  Of  course,  it  is  only  the  prudence, 
not  the  dishonestv,  that  is  commended.  This  parable  is  an 
extreme  instance  for  the  rule  that  in  »".v  rfal''^ 'he  main 
lessons  only  should  be  sought,  and  not  >''*,^t'';'^/S"^^^ 
Possibly  we  should  accept  the  suggestion  that  the  estate  wM 
farniedt«thc.s,ewar|wh;.,-..r^ 
honestjy  apprnrrntP.!  11...  .  V. .  p,  sn  lliat  lus  na  ly  ^^^^  ^^^^^^ 

there  ! 


which  honesty  is  one  of  the  natural  fruits 

,     J _J      (1 «r.*.  '     iTi     T  L-     S15    {,jn\m\ 


r  debts 


had  been  t.. 
ployer,  to  1 1 
ground  dow 


means  'fair,'  'sound,'  'excellent'  In  the  Synop- 
tics, when  Jesus  speaks  of  a  thief  (kX^tfti;?),  it  is  not 
to  denounce  his  Awckedness,  but  in  one  place  (Mt 
gi9.a)  cf  Lk  12^)  to  warn  His  disciples  against 
makuig  treasures  of  earthly  things  which  thieves 
may  steal  or  moths  corrupt ;  and  in  another  place 
(Mt  24**,  cf.  Lk  12^)  to  compare  the  suddenness 
and  unexpectedness  of  His  advent  with  the  way  in 
which  a  thief  breaks  into  a  house  at  night.  In  Jn 
10«T-  the  false  leaders  of  the  people  are  compared 
to  'thieves  and  robbers'  who  ravage  the  flock,  in 
contrast  to  the  Good  Shepherd  who  tends  it.  In 
the  parable  of  the  Good  Samaritan  the  subject  of 
neighbouriy  kindness  had  fallen  among  robbers 
(Lk  KF),  whose  excessive  cruelty  is  described  ;  but 
the  point  of  the  parable  is  not  in  their  conduct, 
which  is  referred  to  only  in  order  to  show  the 


depth  of  misery  in 


which  their  ^-ictim  was  found. 


Jesus  also  refers  to  robbers,  i.e.  brigands  (X^ffraf), 
when  He  denounces  the  Jews  for  making  God  .s 
house  'a  den  of  robbers'  (Mk  11"  RV ;  cf.  Mt 
21'^  Lk  19*),  quoting  Jer  7".  Here  it  is  not 
common  dishonesty  that  rouses  our  Lord's  anger 
so  much  as  the  desecration  of  the  house  ot 
God.  .  ... 

When  the  Je\vish  authorities  came  with  an 
armed  troop  to  take  Jesus,  He  expostulated  with 
them,  asking  if  they  had  come  out  against  a  robber 
(X„<rT^s,  Mk  14«  ;  cf.  Mt  26»,  Lk  22'=).  In  none  of 
these  cases  does  Jesus  lay  anj;  stress  on  the  ques- 
tion of  dishonesty,  the  occasion  not  bringing  it 
into  discussion.  His  merciful  words  to  one  of  the 
malefactors  cni.ilic.l  with  Him  (Lk  23«)  cannot  be 
taken  as  tlir..NN  iiri  li-Jit  on  His  views  of  dishonesty 

and  its  par.l.mi.l.l.  1 l.-cause  the  man  was  pro- 

bablya  bri.L'an.l  inn, ..  nt  .ind  a  follower  of  Barab- 
ba.s,nota  mci..  U.i..t.  Still  it  does  indicate  that 
"ross  sins,  among  \\  liidi  stealing  may  be  included, 
can  be  forgiven  in  those  who  turn  to  Christ.  'The 
one  strong  condemnation  of  theft  in  the  Gospels  is 
St.  John's  scornful  description  of  Judas  as  '  a  thief 


'i,i-''lc^r.'.i  iK.'i'ij.u'.i'ili.'  t..iia.its,  whom  he 
cruelfv-    imi  be  took  tlie  parable  as  a  warning 

^,.,.,„„  „ „.  zeal  "for  God  at  the  cost  of  unkindness  to  men, 

Sn  whom  in  the  name  of  God  too  heavy  requirements  are  laid 
(Pastor  Padorum,  pp.  SSC-SflS).  AV.  F.  AdENEY. 

HONEY.— Honey  is  mentioned  very  frequently 
in  the  OT  :  twenty  times  in  the  proverbial  expres- 
sion 'a  land  flowing  with  milk  and  "oney  (h,x 
ok"  135  333,  Lv  20^  Nu  13«  14»  16"'-,  Dt  6'  11» 
V'=  273  31™  Jos  58,  Jer  11=  32=^  Ezk  20«- '=) ;  or 
in  other  connexions,  either  litera,lly,  as  a  P'oduct 
of  the  soil  and  as  food  (Gn  43"  Dt  »«  32''  Jg 
1481.18  1  S  1435t.S9.J3  2S  17=^,  1  K  14^  2  lv  18^ 
2Ch  3P,  Job  20",  Ps  81^  Is  7'=-="-,  Jer  41«,  Ezk 
ifii3.i9    Sir  113  3926).  or  figuratively,  as  a  term  ot 

ompariso;  for  sJeetness^Ex  16<  P«  f  "UO';^ 
Pr  53  16=^  24'»'-  25'«- ",  Ca  4"  5',  Ezk  3',  Sir  24™ 
49M.  On  the  other  hand,  it  is  very  rarely  named 
in  the  NT,  and  especially  in  the  Gospels.  There 
is  no  direct  evidence  that  the  Jews  were  acquaintetl 
-i^-ith  any  other  honey  than  that  of  wild  bees.  Yet 
the  fact  that  in  2  Ch  31»  honey  is  included  among 
the  products  of  which  the  first-fruits  were  to  be 
ottered,  would  appear  to  represent  it  as  an  object 
of  culture,  and  the  mention  of  l^^ild  honey  as 
part  of  the  food  of  John  the  Baptist  (Mt  SMVIk  1 
fsyr.  Sin.,  perhaps  under  the  influence  of  Dt  32 
and  Ps  8P«  has  'honey  of  the  mounteins  ])  appears 
to  point  by  way  of  contrast  to  the  existence  of 
honev  derived  from  domesticated  bees      As  to  arti- 


Nr.  94  and 


ficial  honey,  made  from  boiled  fruits  (dates,  raisins 
figs),  and  to  which  the  Arabs  pvo  the  n.-vme  of 
rffft.  (the  phonetic  equivaU.,1  ..I  ILK  ^--  honey 
rof  bees])  it  is  not  impossil.U-  ili.-t  n  wus  kno^n 
to  the  Israelites  and  the  .l,;«~;  Lm  ^ve  '-ave  no 
decisive  Biblical  proof  of  tins  (<•  .0^.  i;;/ n^^^^- 
3  •  Urquhart,  The  Lebanon,  18b0, 
gren,  Guide  Franqais-Arabe,  col.  ! 

^^The  two  parallel  pa.ssages  cited  above,  relating 
to  the  food  of  John  the  Baptist,  a^-e  the  only  ones 
in  the  Gospels  in  which  the  word  ^i\^,  'honey,  is 
found.  Wild  honey  (m^X'  StP'o.-)  is  named  along 
with  locusts  as  forming  the  very  simple  and  finigal 
sustenance  of  an  a^scetic,  a  ^a7.lnte,  such  as  John 
was.*     Further,  in  another  Gospel   passage  (i^k 

d;^^;s^x!^^«~'r^'^^(HS 


HONOUR 


HOPE 


747 


24''")  there  is  mention,  at  least  in  the  TR  and  AV, 
of  a  piece  'of  a  honeycomb'  (awb  iiiKiaalov  K-rjpiov) 
as  liaving  lieen  ottered  along  with  '  a  piece  of 
broiled  iish '  to  Jesus  after  His  resurrection.  But 
a  number  of  the  most  ancient  MSS  of  the  NT 
(XABDLn)  do  not  contain  the  former  phrase,  and 
the  disposition  of  modern  commentators,  almost 
without  exception,  is  to  consider  it  as  an  addition. 
'A  singular  interpolation,  evidontly  from  an  ex- 
traneous source,  written  or  oral,"  s:i\-  >\'.'si.-..t(  and 
Hort.  The  RV  omits  it.  lim  ilii-  mnhod  of 
solving  the  problem  cannot  bu  icu.u.li-.l  ;is  ^atis■ 
factory  and  final.  In  fact,  if  it  is  very  liard  to 
imagine,  to  use  the  language  of  Dean  Burgon, 
'  that  such  a  clause  as  tliat  established  itself  univer- 
sally in  the  sacred  text,  if  it  be  spurious,'  it  is 
much  less  difficult  to  explain  '  how  such  a  clause 
became  omitted  from  any  manuscript,  if  it  be 
genuine.'  One  can  discover  no  possible  motive  for 
the  surreptitious  introduction  of  these  words  into 
the  text.  On  tlie  other  liaiid,  if  (licy  are  regarded 
as  an  integral  part  of  llic  pi  iinii  im-'iukI  authentic 
text,  it  is  not  iiiipossililc  lo  .lisi'iitnnuhj  the  reason 
of  their  suppression  in  s.iuk!  MSS.  With  a  view 
to  this  we  must  ])lace  the  narrative  of  Lk  24'""* 
alongside  of  Jn  21'-'-'^,  compare  these  two  descrip- 
tions of  a  meal,  and  note  that  in  many  of  the 
writings  of  the  Fathers,  and  probably  in  various 
attempts  to  establish  '  harmonies  of  the  Four 
Gospels'  (but  not  in  the  Diatcssaron  of  Tatian), 
these  two  .scenes  are  in  fact  identified  (although 
they  differ  in  all  their  essential  features).  Now, 
perhaps,  we  may  be  able  to  explain  how  the  mention 
of  the  honeycomb  came  to  disappear.  The  influ- 
ence of  Lv  2"'-,  which  forbids  the  use  of  honey 
(probably  because  easily  subject  to  fermentation) 
in  any  kind  of  sacrifice ;  that  of  the  allegorical 
interpretation  of  Ca  5'  (especially  in  the  LXX 
version)  applied  to  Christ ;  an  ascetic  tendency  to 
proscribe  sweet  foods  ;  the  possible  intervention  of 
the  Valentinians  with  their  Vcritatis  EvanrjcUmn  ; 
and,  finally,  the  proneness  to  polemize  against  the 
Gnostics,  who  made  large  use  of  honey  in  their 
solemn  'mysteries'  (cf.  Carl  Schmidt,  Gno.itischa 
Schriftan,  in  koptischcr  Sprachc,  Leipzig,  1892,  pp. 
203,  508),  and  who  may  have  apjpealed  for  support 
to  this  text ; — such  are  the  motives  which,  either 
singly  or  all  combined,  may  have  brought  about 
the  rernoval  of  the  disputed  words.  The  present 
writer  is  strongly  inclined,  in  common  with  the 
three  authors  cited  below  in  the  Literature,  to 
retain  them  as  authentic. 

Literature.— Burgon-Miller,  The  Traditional  Text  of  thc 
Hohj  Gospels,  London,  1896,  Appendix  I.  'Honeycomb,'  pp.  240- 
252 ;  Merx,  Etjanq.  des  Markus  utvi  Lukas,  Berlin,  1905,  i>p. 
640-543 ;  Nestle,  ThLZ,  1906,  col.  40.  See  also,  for  bees,  Bochart, 
Hicroz.  ii.  502  il. ;  J.  G.  Wood,  'Bible  Animals,  1869,  pp.  605-612  ; 
Tristram,  Nat.  Hist,  of  the  Bible^,  1889,  pp.  322-326. 

LUCIEN  Gautier. 

HONOUR. — The  codes  of  technical  '  honour '  are 
largely  opposed  to  the  teaching  of  Christ  (Mt  5, 
Lk  6=').  Therefore  such  conceptions  of  '  honour  ' 
must  be  regarded  as  briers  choking  the  word  (Mk 
4'") ;  for  whatever  justification  codes  of  '  honour ' 
may  claim  (as  from  Mt  7'^),  they  are  impatient  of 
the  spirit  of  meekness  inculcate'd  by  Christ  in  pre- 
cept (Mt  53")  and  in  examjjle  (Mt  27).  So  the  Sons 
of  Thunder  would  Have  vindicated  summarily  the 
honour  of  their  Master  (Lk  9'^^).  More  generally, 
in  the  quest  of  honour,  it  is  honour  from  God  and 
not  from  men  that  is  to  be  sought  by  the  Christian 
— the  glory  of  God  rather  than  of"men  (Jn  V2*'''). 
Worldly  honour  may  be  a  source  of  severest 
temptation  (Lk  4'),  for  the  disciple  is  not  greater 
than  his  Master  wliose  sinlessness  was  thus  brought 

from  a  tree.  To  collect  nourishment  of  this  kind  in  the  thickets 
along  the  Jordan  would  have  been  an  easier  task  for  the  Baptist, 
and  would  have  required  lees  time,  than  to  hunt  for  the  honey 
of  bees  (of.  Berggren,  op.  cit.  col.  664). 


to  view  (Mt  10^).  Honour  from  God  the  Christian 
disciple  will  have :  '  If  any  man  will  serve  me, 
him  will  my  Father  honour '  ( Jn  12-").  And  to  be 
invited  to  the  marriage-supper  of  the  King's  Son 
is  a  greater  honour  than  any  this  world  att'ords 
(Mt  22).  But  this  honour  and  blessing  from  God 
contrasts  with  the  dishonour  and  scorn  that  the 
world  is  ready  to  shower  upon  followers  of  One 
who  was  despised  and  rejected.  The  wicked 
husbandmen  did  not  honour  the  son  of  the  lord  of 
the  vineyard  (Mk  12") ;  they  killed  him  and  put 
him  to  shame  (Mk  15).  The  Christian  therefore 
must  not  be  found 

'  Seeking  an  honour  which  they  gave  not  Thee." 

honour  is  not  the  right 


Nay,  even  the  most  sacred 
goal  for  the  follower  of  Chi 
were  taught  (Mk  Id-).  ^ 
the  true  aim  for  the  life  .if  ; 
honoured  of  all,  but  tu  \>r  ^ 
Honour  is  included  in  llii; 
Christ  (Mt  19-'),  and  it  is  1 
all  worldly  tliiiii;s  in  cxcl 
(Mt  16-'').  Still  iurtlicr,  tli 
give  place  to  the 
Dishonour  now  will  gi 
Divine  honour  in  due  se 

HOOK.— See  FiSH. 


HOPE). — In  considering  the  relation  of  hope  to 
Christ  and  the  Gospels,  we  are  at  once  met  with 
the  fact  that  in  the  Gospels  the  word  eXiris  does 
not  occur  at  all,  and  iXvl^m  only  five  times,  viz. 
once  in  Mt  (1'2'"),  where  the  Evangelist  quotes  the 
LXX,  three  times  in  Lk  (6^^  23«  24=').  and  once  in 
Jn  (."i''')  :  .iihI  in  iimic  of  these  instances  does  it  refer 


s  James  and  John 
;ii\  ice,  not  honour,  is 
ill, sari  ilicc, — not  to  be 
.av.int  of  all  (Mk  lO''^). 
all-Udii,-s  left  to  follow 
\ urth  while  to  abandon 
.-in.ne  for  the  true  life 
■  t  nidi/ ion  of  men  must 
dment  of  God  (Mk  7**). 
place  to  eternal  and 
a  (Mt  19=*). 
W.  B.  Frankland. 


tol 


This  :iImjii(ij  of  the  word  is  the  more  remarkable, 
when  \vc  remember  not  only  th.it  .ludaism,  the 
religion  in  which  our  Lord  and  His  ilis('i]iles  were 
reared,  was  essentially  a  reli.nii in  of  Impr,  Imtalso 
that  the  result  of  the  teaching  of  .Ions  \\  as  vastly 
to  enlarge  and  di'cprn  (li.it  hope,  by  imparting  to 
it  the  riches  .if  tin-  Cliiistiun  faith.  Great  as  was 
the  religious  li.i|i.'  in>|iir.'.l  l)y  the  older  dispensa- 
tion, it  was  Mii.ill  whiii  .Miiiipared  with  that  'better 
hope'  (III^  7'")  \\lii.lL  iv-lril  on  the  unchangeable 

Til.-  .Ii.sii|.l.>s  .l.iulilli-s  were  too  fully  absorbed 
in  thr  jinsiiit  to  have  felt  ileeply  expectations  for 
the  future.  They  were  held  captive  by  the  great- 
ness of  His  personality  and  the  depth  of  His  love, 
and  ultimately  came  to  realize  that  they  had  in 
Him  the  Hope  of  Israel  itself.  And  if  Simeon, 
having  received  the  Messiah  into  his  arms,  felt  his 
greatest  hopes  realized,  then  the  disciples,  having 
found  the  Christ,  must  have  been  so  absorbed  by 
Him  as  to  have  had  little  room  and  little  need  for 
longings  regarding  the  future. 

But  why  did  Jesus,  who  taught  the  necessity  of 
faith  (Mk  11--,  Jn  3'«)  and  the  pre-eminence  of  love 
(Mt  22"'),  remain  silent  as  regards  hope.  It  was 
due  to  the  fact  that  in  training  His  followers,  the 
first  necessity  was  to  concentrate  their  attention 
on  Hiimdf  as  their  jnesent  possession.  Had  He 
taught  them  fully  of  the  fruition  that  awaited  them 
at  the  end  of  the  age,  an.l  bad  He  thus  made  hope 
a  <listinctly  iirominent  portion  of  His  teaching.  He 
would  ha\'e  dissipated  their  attention  and  diverted 
it  from  that  which  they  most  required  to  learn. 
St.  Paul  could  teach,  '  Christ  our  hope'  (1  T\  V). 
Jesus  had  to  lay  the  foundation  oy  teaching, 
'Come  unto  me'  (Mt  ll^*). 

But  if  He  did  not  give  direct  teaching  on  the 
point,  He  nevertheless  laid  deeply  the  basis  upon 
■which  the  Church's  doctrine  of  "hope  _  was  to  be 
built ;  for  He  pointed  the  disciples,  in  His 


748 


HOPEFULNESS 


HOPEFULNESS 


to  the  blessings  which  they  ultimately  would  enjoy. 
Tlie  promises  of  His  resurrection,  of  His  perpetual 
spiritual  presence,  and  of  His  hnal  return  in  glory, 
were  sure  foundations  upon  which  the  Church  could 
build  her  doctrine,  and  on  this  basis  the  developed 
teaching  of  the  Epistles  rests.  And  if  the  death 
of  Jesus  rudely  shattered  the  Messianic  hope  of 
the  disciples,  His  resurrection,  followed  by  the 
illumination  of  the  Holy  Spiiit,  restored  it  to 
them  in  a  purified  and  spiritual  form. 

As  we  study  in  the  Epistles  the  doctrine  of  hope, 
which  was  thus  awakened  and  became  an  integral 
part  of  Christian  life,  we  find  it  vitally  connected 
by  the  Church  with  her  faith  in  Christ  risen  and 
glorified.  (1)  His  resurrection  is  regarded  as  the 
fjround  of  the  Christian's  hope  :  by  it  Christians  are 
begotten  '  unto  a  living  hope,'  and  through  it  their 
hope  in  God  is  established  (1  P  P-^').  Ci)  All 
Christian  hopes  are  realized  in  Him.  Various 
objects  worthy  of  hope  are  mentioned,  such  as 
salvation  (1  th  5'),  eternal  life  (Tit  1^  3'),  the 
glory  of  God  (Ro  5^,  Col  1"),  the  resurrection  of 
the  dead  (Ac  24''  23");  but  all  these  dillerent 
blessings  are  summed  up  in  Jesu-s  Christ.  AVhen 
they  hope  for  Him,  they  hope  for  them  all ;  for 
in  Him  all  the  scattered  yearnings  of  the  human 
Iieart  are  united  and  find  their  fuHilment.  Thus 
it  is  that  St.  Paul  calls  Him  'our  hope'  (1  Ti  P). 
(3)  The  Church  therefore  fixes  her  gaze  on  the 
lieavens ;  for  her  Hope  is  there.  She  is  ever  '  looking 
for  the  blessed  hope  and  appearing  of  the  glory  of 
our  great  God  and  Saviour  Je.sus  Clirist'  (Tit  '2^), 
for  then  she  shall  be  like  Him,  for  she  shall  see 
Him  as  He  is  ;  '  and  every  one  tliat  hath  this  hope 
set  on  him  purifieth  himself '  (1  Jn  3-'  ^).  Even 
inanimate  nature  groans  for  its  coming  redemption 
at  the  Parousia,  having  been  subjected  to  vanity 
'  in  hope'  (Ro  S™).  (4)  But  while  the  full  realiza- 
tion of  Christian  hope  will  not  be  reached  until 
the  return  of  Christ,  yet  even  now  the  Church  has 
a  foretaste  of  the  bliss  tliat  ultimately  will  be  hers. 
For  Christ  now  dwells  in  the  Church  and  in  the 
hearts  of  her  members,  and  thus  grants  an  earnest 
of  final  fulfilment.  Christ  in  the  Church  and  in 
the  individual  is  '  the  hope  of  glory '  (Col  1"),  and 
therefore  to  be  without  Christ  is  to  be  without 
hope  (Eph  2'=). 

See,  further,  the  follcwing  article. 

Charles  T.  P.  Geierson. 

HOPEFULNESS  (Christ's).— Knowing  that  all 
our  possessions  of  grace  come  from  Christ,  in  whom 
we  believe  all  fulness  dwells,  and  lii/li.>\  inu  thut  He 
alone  among  the  sons  of  moii  |Mi-,,,-,a  |iinfect 
knowledge,  we  mi"ht  be  led  to  .Imlii  v,  h.therwe 
could  justly  attribute  hope  tu  lliiii.  .U  regards 
His  perfect  knowledge,  we  must  remember  that 
uncertainty  is  no  essential  element  in  hope.  Human 
hope  may  be  proverbially  disappointing,  but  that 
is  due  to  the  uncertainty  of  temporal  things,  and 
not  to  the  nature  of  hope  itself.  Indeed,  the  glory 
of  the  Christian  hope  consists  in  the  moral  cer- 
tainty of  its  grounds.  It  is  a  '  better  hope '  in 
part  as  being  '  sure  and  steailfast '  (He  7'"  6").  The 
fact,  then,  that  our  Lord's  faith  rendered  future 
objects  of  desire  almost  a  present  possession  in  no 
way  prevented  Him  from  experiencing  this  grace.* 
As  regards  His  possessing  'all  fulness'  a.s  the 
God-m:in,  and  so  liriin,'  tlmught  incapable  of  feeling 
hopefuini'ss,  it  in.iy  lie  said  that  we  cle,arly  start 
our  thouglits  on  a  wrong  line  if  we  commence  an 
investigation  of  this  kind  >\'ith  our  own  o  priori 
views  of  what  the  incarnate  Son  of  God  must  have 
felt  or  not  felt.     AVe  can  in  ourselves  be  no  ade- 

•  West'-nti  {r.:f,\  vol.  i.  p.  41)nTite8  in  his  diary:  'The  fart 
of  our  1.  ra  ii.\,r  iii' ntioning  His  o«ii  faith  or  hope  is  a  proof 
of  His  I'l.nntv.'  Thi^.  liowever,  can  hanlly  be  loolied  Upon  as 
a  careful  >i.aeiiieiit.  Imt  rather  as  a  passing  thought,  and  it  was 
noted  down  early  in  his  life  (set.  21). 


quate  judges  of  tlie  limitations  which  Deity  might 
set  upon  itself  when  taking  our  flesh.  Our  duty 
is  to  study  the  NT,  and  especially  the  Gospels,  with 
the  view  of  discovering  what  is  there  revealed  as  to 
the  true  nature  of  this  act  of  Divine  condescension. 
And  such  a  study  teaches  us  that  in  our  Lord's 
Person  we  have  not  only  a  revelation  of  the  Father, 
Ijut  also  a  revelation  of  humanity  at  its  highest. 
He  loved  to  call  Himself  '  Son  of  Man,'  because  He 
thereby  taught  \ls  to  see  in  Him  the  ideal  Man, 
and  therefore  we  must  expect  to  see  in  Him  every 
truly  human  emotion  (and  hope  is  one  of  them) 
purified  and  perfected. 

No  teacher  of  mankind  ever  so  frequently  pointed 
to  Himself  in  His  teaching  as  Jesus  did,  and  yet 
it  is  remarkable  that  He  rarely  revealed  His  own 
personal  emotions.  When  He  disclosed  Himself 
it  was  as  the  source  of  all  grace,  so  tliat  men 
might  be  saved  and  nourished  by  His  life.  He 
was  so  absolutely  selfless  that  He  rarely  sought 
sympathy  by  speaking  of  His  heart's  desires.  It 
is  not  He  but  the  Evangelists  who  tell  us  that  He 
was  Aveary,  wept,  exulted,  marvelle<l.  Thus  it 
happens  that  He  never  definitely  mentions  His 
own  hope.  Indeed,  strangely  enough,  the  word 
eXiris  does  not  occur  in  the  Gospels  (see  art.  Hope). 
But  as  hope  is  a  necessary  element  of  Christian 
character,  lieing  one  of  the  'abiding'  graces  (1  Co 
13"),  Christ,  if  He  be  true  man,  must  have  ex- 
perienced it.  It  is  not  said  that  He  had  faith,  but 
must  we  not  believe  that  His  whole  human  career 
was  sustained  from  the  first  consciousness  of  child- 
hood to  Calvary  by  faith,  perfect  in  its  range  and 
steadfastness  ?  Tlie  long  nights  of  prayer  surely 
tell  us  not  only  of  a  general  attitude  of  depend- 
ence, but  also  of  a  definite  trustful  belief  in  the 
love  and  presence  of  His  Father,  wliicli  found  its^ 
expression  in  petition.  Wliat  habitual  strength  of 
faith  is  sho>\-n  in  such  words  as  '  Thinkcst  thuii 
that  I  cannot  beseech  my  Father,  and  lie  shall  even 
now  send  me  more  than  twelve  legions  of  angels  ? ' 
(Mt  26^3). 

No  doubt  His  faith  and  hope  are  so  raised  above 
ours  by  their  perfection,  that  they  may  no  longer 
seem  to  be  what  to  us  are  faith  and  hope.  But 
He  raised  all  human  attributes  to  their  perfection  ; 
not  thereby  altering  their  essential  character,  but 
rather  exhibiting  them  as  they  ought  to  be  in 
ourselves.  And  if  He  felt  no  hope,  never  rejoiced 
in  coming  good,  never  was  upborne  when  wearing 
the  cross  by  anticipation  of  the  crown,  but  lived 
His  life  in  the  cold  calm  of  duty,  then  the  Stoic 
is  the  ideal  of  our  race. 

Not  a  few  evidences,  more  or  less  indirect,  of 
Clirist's  hopefulness  are  found  in  the  Gospels.  In 
one  case  its  object  wa-s  of  a  temporal  nature, 
namely,  when  being  '  hungry '  He  approached  the 
fig  tree,  'if  haply  he  might  find  anything  thereon.' 
(Mk  IV^-) 

Little  reverence  would  be  shown  by  interpreting 
this  incident  as  feigned  for  the  purpose  of  teaching 
a  moral  lesson.  '  If  He  only  pretended  not  to 
know  that  the  tree  was  barren,  we  should  expect 
the  hunger  also  to  have  been  pretended'  (Mason, 
Conditions  of  our  Lord's  Life,  p.  152).  Rather 
liave  we  an  example  of  hope  in  the  mind  of  Jesus 
for  a  ilesired  good,  which  circnmstanccs  disap- 
pointed, and  which  He  turned  to  :i  moial  purpose. 

Evidence  of  His  being  chenrd  ,ln,in-  His  minis- 
try by  hope  of  the  results  of  His  spii  itual  labours 
may  probably  be  seen  in  His  wonls  to  the  dis- 
ciples when  the  Samaritan  woman  had  left  (Jn 
4=^-38)_  He  had  gained  one  soul,  and  with  pro- 
phetic vision  saw  the  land  lilled  with  ripened  .souls 
ready  for  the  spiritual  leapcT.  His  followers,  too, 
would  receive  wages  in  tin-  joy  of  souls  won,  and 
ultimately  they,  with  the  eailiev  workers  of  God 
who  had  sown  the  seed,  would  rejoice  together. 


HOPEFULNESS 


HOSANNA 


So     ulMvas   His  M>^     «  .      ^j  ^^^-u  ter 

realized,   an    Jith   U.c   i  ^^^^  ^^^^^    ^ 

harvestmg,  that  HcNj.isi.u.^'-J   ^^^^^^^  ^^^^  ^^   ^j^^ 

when  He  exulted  (i,yaXKid<raTc,  Lk  10   )  15  f'?'^^"; 

-?tt^r^t;^i5;=r%Sgr^ 

ij^r'^He.^aSn^>S:eSa^.^t^- 
ihe  uttermost  ifarts  of  the  world  poteiitiall 


the  world'  (Ji-  _ 
was  in  hope,  as  m  all 


^ec  that  our  l.ori 


ipborne  by 
upborne  to 
liy 'thejoy 


Xi^ISS  of- the-  -rld:not^iall|^,^e 
ttr^^^'Slr^l^t-al^aSdSiAi    before    tlie 


the  terrible  ff  e"^^^^^,.^^  He  alte^ted  between 
tueToroT  4e  anV\te's'oS^^^       huiuan  dread, 

If:^:.  *Tl'r  in   Hi«   Hlgh-WestW   prayer^^^- 
before  the  world  was   1^'  ■>)•  .  Ami  ininKui 

that  they  might^ultimately  be  granted  t'le  bea    lie 
^„,    LhpWg  Hiin   mH.   ^ry    V.    ),  then 


(He  4'=).  And  if  we  111  '"i>  ' 
the  hope  of  future  bll^^.  II' 
endure  the  cross  and  do>i'i>'' I 
that  wo.  set  before  1"-^U^^^^  ^   p.  ghieRSON.  . 

HORN.-The  expression  'a  horn  of  salvation  in 
the  song  of  Zacharias  (Lk  1«")  is  """'''"y  f 
referenc?  to  the  promised  M-siah  A  similar  c^n^^ 
bination  of  won'ls  is  found  111  P|J8-. /'"^J'^  <=°" 
fpntion  is  more  i>robablY  due  to  132",  1  h/  ■ 

1  In  the  OT  the  wor;i  'horn'  is  figuratively  used 
in^poeticalandallegon^lh^guage^^ 

e^of^:;;;dt?(n;^')^:^!^>'L;^':^ia,^ 
^r^^^.rxi;«.^r^rS.^''aiui^:^ 

alvation,'  Lk  1-  (Pr.  Bk  ),  P-ar^irases  t^ie  sense 
but  obliterates  the  associations.  Hor.  Od.  111.  -l.  i» 
is  quoted  as  an  instance  of  the  metaphor  m  ordinary 

^^t1^:;u^h!irU.ei:^vr^  animals  is  aw^^ 

of  attack   rather  tban  of  ;;^;ence,  some  Inue^i^ 

T;",'-,'    \:  'iv,'„„;„.   ,.tr     on  !■-  IS):  possibly  com- 
r  ,  ,1  wl!i,:|.  l.oll,   iM,-as  kre  included, 

'"""■',  I  r.ff',.v,l,.riiuii.iii  'riiric  are  two  classes 
w-ouia  be  a  '"-y   '  ,.        .    .,,,.|,-tli :  [a]  natural 

of  «y"A«lf,'^'^ir^,.  y  i  ,,  '  ,„  :  ,;^  ,  etc.)  and  (6) 
weapons  (c.fl-  '""'",,-  ^  shield  etc.)  When 
artiticia  wejvpoiis   a  n.  .,  •  -  -'"    ^  '^  ;^,   ,1^,, 

a'tfrt     ent  tliat'«^^^  -  1-— 

hiherent  immediate;  the  latter,  to  represent  that 
;t^I^'\n  ^vMcV-ond  causes,  ins^^nts. 
agents  appear  (Is  10»-    )-  r.  o.  ^ 


mencedtt  Paschal  meal.  'With  de-e  I  have 
desired  to  eat  this  passover  with  X°^  Jf  °'^,.g^ 

in  a  spirit  ot  "',";"'~'' .''(',, '•,„.,|'  tIiTs  is  the  more 
community  aiM  ">'".,  \\  [  ,|,^  ,„„re  than  any 
remarkabk^  Nvli.'ii  "  '  ^  ,  ;.^„  ,,„.ruption.  The 
other  saw  the  leahtj  -'I  Im  i>;  "  ''..,,  relirnous- 
hidden  disease  of  society,  xvUl..t.ut«aidre^Wo^^ 

"''"slnr^^e  :n::^i  a  "i  s^^, 

ir  jLemiah  of  old  But,  unlike  that  prophet. 
He  notw™  hstanding  His  clear  view  of  coming 
Segment,  looked  tS  the  f-tm-e  wi  1.  a  splend^^^^ 
'  lonefulness.  His  kingdom  would  yet  hll  the  worlct 
Mt  13^  H  s  gospel  would  be  universally  preached 
(Mk  13")V  anTl  ultimately  all  men  would  be  drawn 
"tJiS^  oi?S:!ism  is  to  be  seen  in  His  dea^ngs 
with  individual  sinners.  In  the  most  corrupt  He 
saw  "erms  of  good;  and  thus  could  win  smful 
women  from  their  ways  (Lk  7»,  Jn  ^'^V^^^ 
cans  from  their  grasping  worldliness  (M'^  -  ;  '; 
199) .  and  He  could  discover  suthciont  moi  al  «o,th 
in  a  dying  thief  and  murdcr.T  to  .r  n  hlr  to  1""""^  ■ 
him  restTn  Paradise  (Lk  2:i-)  .  '  ''" '"'l"'';'  "  .T, 
Christ  in  His  message  to  niankiii(l  is  un>  ''  ' 
in  His  saying,  '  Be  of  good  cheer  ;  1  have  o\euomc 


HOSANNA    ixm''^,    Gr.  uo-avi-i).  —  One   of   the 
Hewfw    word^    which    (like  ^^^Hamnjah 

HM.Ih.  S^Y')  l>-e  l^assed    t  an  ht^ated^d 

t„  tl,:a  '■  .*'"  '  '|,',;,';|'',,|,.  ,„  |i,..,„  It  is  found 
occurs  ""  >  '"  '|,|,'i5'  v|,  ,,;i.  lu  ,iii  i^i;i)  but  only 
ii'theiri  to^^of  our'  Loid's  triumphant  entry  to 
j"eiWem  o^Palm  Sunday,  and  only  -  a  vo^^^^ 

''■^"^^THinitr^^theXdr^^^^^^^^^ 
f^li^tq^5e(Mt.l...^An^^ 

s::lr-^il;tr  e...... 

TY'nn"."'   X.^;;;Mh"uil-^v^,n,,lay,the 

I  n  I,  ,,H.,i    'luv  111.-  I..I"  aid  not  en- 

r'."l":  ■"'"'.  ■        ;       „  ...urv  i,.  pron'^si,,,.  with  the 

30111  tills  ^f/-'    J.   ■       f  |.^i-ii„ah  .and  thence  again 

Ct:^^^^  these  '^^^l:^^ 
up  and  l-,aten  ag<unst  the  al  a.        J^^-ly-f, 

wereassemblin-.'t-"'i'    ■  ^^^.  ^^^^   I'^ssover. 

a  widely  dillrivnIH....''      ,,,;„,„„  ,.  ,,x|,l,ained  as 
PhiloWirally,  111"  "'■'';';,;  ,..  ,|J;-.MHeb.): 

a  derivation  liiiiii  I"  '■"""■'  "         ,     ,     ^  ,,,,     q 

rmna  Jahwch  hr,sht,,h-vii.<  V\  ^"^'[^']\  Vn.Hliis 
Lord,  save  now').  This  I's.ili"  "j-  ^'  '  , ;,  ;  .,,  ||„. 
verse  of  it  used  asa  retrain  !■>  in'  I  .■,  ^-^  ^^^^ 
feast   of    Tabern     '  " 


(.nstant  poiudax  ir|.i  tiliuii, 
;,.  the  old  OanaaniMsh  cry 
lis')  was  turned  into  a  com- 


HOSANNA 


HOSANNA 


The  vocal  *Hosanna'  was  used  by  the  Jews  at  the  feast  of 
Tabernacles  when  the  branches  also  were  employed ;  and  on 
this  account  it  has  been  asserted  by  Mr.  Lewis  N.  Dembitz  (in 
the  Jetvish  Enci/c.  vol.  vi.  p.  27U,  s.  i\  '  Hosh'ana  Kabbah ')  that 
'  the  Gospels  by  a  mistake  place  the  custom  in  the  season 
shortly  before  the  Passover,  instead  of  in  the  feast  of  Booths.' 
To  this  it  may  be  answered,  (1)  that,  according  to  another 
writer  in  the  same  Encyclopedia,  Rabbi  Kaufmann  Kohler 
(vol.  vi.  p.  272),  Hosanna  *  became  a  popular  cry  used  in  solemn 
processions  wherewith  was  connected  the  carrying  of  palm 
branches  as  described  in  1  Mac  1351  and  2  Mac  lO'.'  But  (2)  the 
procession  in  1  Mac  IS^i  was  not  at  the  feast  of  Tabernacles, 
which  was  kept  on  the  15th  day  of  the  7th  month  (Lv  233^),  but 
at  a  wholly  different  season,  '  on  the  three  and  twentieth  day 
of  the  second  month ' ;  while  the  celebration  in  2  Mac  107, 
though  'the  procession  was  after  the  manner  of  the  feast  of 
Tabernacles '  (v.6),  wag  somewhat  later  in  the  year.  Thus  there 
was  historical  and  uninspired  (for  the  Jews  did  not  hold  the 
Books  of  Maccabees  to  be  inspired)  precedent  for  the  employ- 
ment both  of  the  palm-bearing  and  the  shout  on  other  suitable 
occasions  besides  the  feast  of  Tabernacles.  And  (3)  was  not  the 
occasion  of  Christ's  entry  into  Jerusalem  one  that  must  have 
seemed  eminently  suitable  alike  to  His  disciples  who  began  it 
(Lk  19^7)  and  to  the  candid  (Mt  2115)  and  grateful  (Jn  1217) 
Israelites  who  joined  them  in  the  celebration  of  if?  The  Jews, 
we  know,  were  accustomed  to  associate  with  the  feast  of  Taber- 
nacles the  highest  of  those  blessings  which  Messiah  was  to 
bring.  It  was  as  Messiah  that  Jesus  now  presented  Himself. 
He  had  chosen  to  ride  that  day  upon  the  ass's  colt,  in  accord- 
ance with  Zechariah's  prophecy  (Zee  99),  just  on  purpose  to 
make  an  offer  of  Himself  to  Jerusalem  as  her  promised  King 
(Mt  21J,  Jn  12U).  What,  accordingly,  would  the  people  look  for 
at  His  hands?  What  would  they  ask  from  Him?  Salvation; 
but  salvation  not  on  its  negative  side  alone,  of  deliverance,  but 
on  its  positive  side  as  well,  of  fruition.  If  the  approaching 
feast  of  the  Passover  would  remind  them  of  the  former,  how 
their  Egyptian  oppressor  had  been  smitten  (Ex  1229),  it  was 
the  feast  of  Tabernacles  which  pre-eminently  supplied  illustra- 
tions of  the  latter :  its  branches  and  its  booths  were  redolent 
of  that  first  night  of  freedom  which  their  fathers  had  enjoyed 
under  the  cool  booths  of  Succoth  (Ex  12-^7),  so  refreshing  after  the 
dust  and  heat  of  the  brickfield  .and  the  furnace.  Both  sides— 
the  negative  and  the  positive,  the  smiting  and  the  booths — 
were  in  one  chapter  (Ex  12) :  they  could  hardly  remember  the 
one  without  the  other.  The  form,  therefore,  which  the  celebra- 
tion of  our  Lord's  entry  into  Jerusalem  is  described  by  the  Four 
Evangelists  as  assuming,  is  not  such  as  to  require  us  to  suppose 
that  they  made  a  mistake  in  placing  it  at  the  season  of  the 
Passover.  On  the  contrary,  it  was  neither  unprecedented  nor 
unnatural ;  and  the  fact  that  it  was  not  a  legally  prescribed 
hut  only  a  popular  ceremony,  left  them  quite  free  to  use  it  when 
they  thought  fit.  It  is  not  as  if  the  Evangelists  had  transferred 
the  unleavened  bread  of  the  Passover  to  the  Feast  of  Tabernacles. 

Honanna  is  rendered  in  both  AV  and  RV  (cf. 
Ps  118'^  whence  it  is  taken)  'Save  now.'  The 
•now  is  not  here  an  adverb  of  time,  but  an  inter- 
jection of  entreaty,  as  in  '  Come  now ' :  the  word 
means  '  Oh  !  save'  (Jewish  Encyc),  or  'Save,  we 
beseech  Thee.'  As  given  (I)  absolutely,  as  in  Mk 
11'  and  Jn  12'',  the  natural  meaning  of  this  would 
be  an  address  to  Christ,  as  Messiah,  asking  Him  to 
bestow  the  salvation  expected  of  Him  ;  or,  as  our 
English  hymn  expresses  it,  '  Briim  near  Thy  great 
salvation.  We  can  understand  liow,  in  (liis  sense, 
'Hosanna'  should  be  followed  liy  sahitations  or 
acclamations,  'Blessed  is  he  that  idiiu'tli  in  the 
name  of  the  LORD'  (Ps  IIS^",  Mt  21",  Mk  IP), 
'  Blessed  is  the  kingdom  of  our  father  David,  that 
Cometh  in  the  name  of  the  Lord'  (Mk  11'°),  or 
'  Blessed  is  the  King  of  Israel  that  coraeth  in  the 
name  of  the  Lord'  (Jn  12'»).  All  the  diflerent 
forms  may  have  been  used,  for  there  was  a  multi- 
tude of  speakers.  The  sequence  of  the  thoughts  is 
natural  :  for  if  Jesus  be  once  conceived  of  as  able 
to  save  (either  by  His  own  power  or  by  that  of  Him 
that  sent  Him),  the  next  thing,  obviously,  for  His 
people  to  do,  after  asking  Him  to  exert  H  is  power 
in  their  behalf,  is  to  rejoice  that  He  has  come,  and 
to  bless  Him  for  coming. 

But  (2)  it  is  not  only  in  this  absolute  construction 
that  the  Evangelists  use  the  word  Ho.innnn.  St. 
Matthew  employs  it  with  a  dative,  '  Hosanna  to 
the  Son  of  David'  (Mt  219) .  ^nd  both  St.  Matthew 
and  St.  Mark  give  us  '  Hosanna  in  the  liighest.' 
Both  these  variations  have  been  censured  by  Dr. 
Kaufmann  Kohler  (Jewish  Encyc.  I.e.  .supra)  as 
'  corruptions  of  the  original  version'  :  the  addition 
'  in  the  highest,'  he  declares  to  be  '  words  which  no 
longer  give  any  sense.'    But  in  a  connexion  which 


seems  to  justify  St.  Matthew,  the  dative  is  used 
alike  in  the  OT  (Ps  3^  '  Salvation  belongeth  unto 
the  Lord  ')  and  in  the  NT  in  a  passage  based  upon 
that  Psalm  (Rev  7'"  '  Salvation  unto  our  God  ;  and 
unto  the  Lamb');  whUe  there  is  surely  nothing 
'  senseless  '  in  the  thought  that  the  salvation  which 
God  gives,  or  sends,  to  men  should  fill  the  highest 
heaven  with  rejoicings  in  His  praise.  We  have 
the  idea  in  the  OT  (e.g.  Ps.  8')  and  in  the  NT  (Lk 
2",  Eph  3'°).  To  some  Christian  commentators, 
however,  and  those  of  no  mean  weight, — e.g.  Cor- 
nelius i  Lapide  and  Dean  Alford, — St.  Matthew's 
use  of  Hosanna  with  the  dative  has  seemed  to 
render  requisite  a  different  interpretation  of  the 
word.  Hosanna  was,  says  Alford  (on  Mt  21"), 
'  originally  a  formula  of  supplication,  but  [became] 
conventionally  [one]  of  gratulation,  so  that  it  is 
followed  by  a  dative,  and  by  "  in  the  highest," — 
meaning  "may  it  also  be  ratified  in  heaven,"' — 
and  he  cites  1  K  1**,  where  Benaiah  answers  David, 
saying,  '  Amen  :  the  Lord,  the  God  of  my  lord  the 
king,  say  so  too.'  Cornelius  Jt  Lapide  takes  '  Hos- 
anna to  the  Son  of  David '  as  a  prayer  for  Christ, 
ottered  by  the  people  '  asking  all  prosperous  things 
for  Him  from  God.'  Now,  this  would,  in  itself, 
be  admissible  enough.  Of  Messiah,  even  when 
thought  of  as  Divine  and  reignin",  the  Scripture 
says,  '  prayer  also  shall  be  made  for  him  continu- 
ally' (Ps  72").  But  it  seems  unnatural  to  postu- 
late so  violent  an  alteration  in  the  meaning  of  the 
word — from  'supplication'  to  'gratulation,'  when, 
taken  in  its  original  meaning,  it  yields  a  sutticient 
sense  :  '  Save  now,  for  it  is  to  thee,  O  Son  of  David, 
that  the  power  to  save  us  has  been  giviu.'  It  was 
not  unnatural  that  the  people  should  .--[.lak  in  this 
sense:  as  Jews  they  knew  already  that  '.salvation 
belongeth  unto  God'  (Ps  3').  This  view  derives 
considerable  confirmation  from  the  parallel  passage 
in  the  Apocalypse,  where  the  whole  scene  in  ch. 
7''',  and  even  the  very  words — '  the  multitude  be- 
fore the  throne  and  before  the  Lamb  .  .  .  with 
palms  in  their  hands'  (Rev  7",  cf.  Jn  12"),  who  cry 
with  a  loud  voice  (cf.  Lk  19^),  saying,  '  Salvation 
to  our  God  .  .  .  and  to  the  Lamb' — seems  to  be 
based  on  what  happened  at  Jerusalem  on  that  first 
Palm  Sunday ;  as  if  the  Seer  were  beholding  the 
salvation  come  which  that  day  was  asked,  and 
recognized  that  the  palm-bearers  of  the  earthly 
Jenisalem  were  precursors  of  the  4iosts  of  the  re- 
deemed. St.  John,  it  will  be  remembered,  has,  in 
his  Gospel  (121"),  tjjg  remark,  '  These  things  under- 
stood not  his  disciples  at  the  first,  but  after  he  was 
risen  they  remembered,'  etc.  If,  as  seems  clear, 
the  vision  is  expressed  in  figures  drawn  from  that 
event,  then  the  acclaim  in  heaven  must  be  held  to 
settle  the  meaning  of  those  Hosannas  upon  earth  : 
the  dative  of  the  Apocalypse  is  the  dative  of  the 
Gospel :  it  is  the  dative  not  of  a  prayer  for  Jesus, 
but  of  an  ascription  of  salvation  to  Him  as  its 
Mediator  and  Bestower. 

It  remains  only  to  be  added  that  the  Third  Evan- 
gelist, while  recording  the  same  Triumphal  Entry, 
and  mentioning  the  acclamations  of  the  people, 
omits  alike  the  palm-branches  and  the  Avord 
'Hosanna.'  The  explanation,  no  doubt,  of  both 
omissions  lies  in  the  fact  that  St.  Luke  wrote 
especially  for  Gentiles :  his  readers  would  not 
have  understood  the  Hosanna,   and  would    have 


misunderstood  the  palms.     To  Greeks  the  palii 
branch  -would  have  been,  inevitably,  the  p£ 
])ride  and  victory  :  not,  as  to  the  Hebrew  mind,  an 


paim- 
,1m  of 


emblem  of  peaceful  rest,  and  freedom,  and  house- 
hold joy.  '  Hosanna '  would  have  meant  nothing 
at  all.  Therefore  the  Evangelist  to  the  Greeks 
paraphrases  IIm'  wur.l,  and  iiaiM]>hrases  with  it  St. 
Matthew's  an. I  SK  M;iik'>  ;nMiin.n  to  it,  'in  the 
highest';  rmdriin-  i  li.>  \\  Inil.^  I.\  '  I'oace  in  heaven, 
and  glory  in  tlir  hiuli.'st     (l.k  l',r»).     And,  as  St. 


HOSPITALITY 


HOUR 


751 


Matthew  liail  tlie  dative  of  ascrijition,  '  Hosanna  to 
the  Son  of  David ' — as  looking  for  salvation  to  Him 
who  had  come  to  Jerusalem  in  this  capacity ;  so 
St.  Luke,  in  his  paraphrase  of  the  Hosanna,  em- 
ploys what  we  may  call  a  dative  clause  :  his  '  Peace 
in  heaven,  and  glory  in  the  highest, '  are  introduced 
so  as  to  show  us  these  as  the  result  of  Christ's  coming 
as  King  in  the  name  of  the  Lord  :  it  is  for  these  ends 
that  He  has  come  ;  and  on  this  account  the  people 
call  Him  blessed.  It  was  for  tliese  ends  that  He 
was  Ijiirn:  wherefore  the  angels  sang  the  same 
stniiii  over  Him  at  His  Nativity  (Lk  2^^) ;  it  is  for 
these  ends  now  that  He  jiaces  forward  to  His  cross  : 
and  therefore  men,  though  as  yet  they  understand 
it  not  (Jn  12'"),  are  moved,  by  a  Power  they  know 
not,  to  hear  Him  record. 

LiTERATriiK,— Art.  *  Hosanna'  in  Hastings'  DB  and  in  Encyc. 
nif'L;  J'  jri.^h  F.nriic,  loc.  cit.\  Milligan,  Cmti.  mi  Gospel  of  St. 
Ji'lui  and  Urri'i,aion\  Westcott,  SL  John's  Gospel;  Cornelius 
ii  L:i|)Klf,  .NtalL'  aTiil  Littledale,  and  Perowne,  on  Ps  118. 

Jame.s  Cooper. 

HOSPITALITY This  marked   Oriental  virtue 

prevailed  in  Palestine  in  Christ's  day.  Our  Lord 
assumes  its  exercise,  rather  than  directly  enjoins 
it.  His  Apostles,  later,  however,  prescribed  hospi- 
tality as  a  reflexion  of  the  Christ  spirit  (Ro  12'^, 
1  Ti  3=,  Tit  !«,  He  13^  1  P  i^),  even  towards  an 
enemy  (Ro  12-").  Because  of  the  widespread  pre- 
valence of  hospitality,  inns  (wh.  see)  were  com- 
paratively few ;  and  even  in  khans  or  places  of 
lodgment  for  strangers  there  were  unfurnished 
rooms  which  were  at  the  disposal  of  travellers, 
without  cost.  The  innkeeper  or  host  usually  re- 
ceived remuneration  for  such  extra  service  as  the 
stranger  might  require,  as  in  a  case  like  that  of 
the  wounded  man  cared  for  at  the  Samaritan's 
expense  (Lk  lO**).  Since  Jesus  Himself  '  had  not 
where  to  lay  his  head'  (Mt8-"),  He  depended  much 
upon  the  hospitality  of  the  friendly  disposed,  as  of 
Andrew  and  Peter  at  Capernaum  (Mt  8"),  and  of 
Mary,  Martha,  and  Lazarus  at  Bethany  (Jn  ll'-^) ; 
and  frequently  accepted  the  hospitality  of  house- 
holders (Mt  26«,  Lk  5^  l^i'-  19%  On  occasions  of 
the  great  feasts  at  Jerusalem,  guest-chambers  were 
freely  put  at  the  disposal  of  visiting  worshippers 
(Mk  14").  When  the  Master  sent  out  the  Seventy, 
they  were  to  take  no  purse,  but  to  rely  upon  the 
hospitality  of  the  people  of  the  towns  into  which 
they  might  go  (Lk  10"-);  a  blessing  being  left 
with  the  hospitable  (v.=),  while  a  woe  is  pro- 
nounced upon  the  inhospitable  city  (vv. '""'-).  Christ 
said  of  His  messengers  that  those  who  received 
them  were  in  truth  receiving  Him  (Jn  13^°).  So 
incensed  were  two  of  His  disciples  at  being  refused 
entertainment  in  a  Samaritan  village,  that  they 
would  have  called  down  tire  from  heaven  to  destroy 
the  people.  But  tliis  spirit  Jesus  rebuked  (Lk 
952-56)_  Tiig  spirit  of  hospitality  was  manifested 
in  giving  not  only  lodging  .and  food,  but  also 
water  for  the  feet  (Lk  7",  cf.  Jn  13^^) ;  a  servant 
usually  unloosing  and  taking  charge  of  the  sandals 
(Lk  3'°).  Sometimes  a  kiss  characterized  the 
hospitable  reception  (Lk  V). 

The  empha.sis  that  Jesus  laid  upon  the  virtue  of 
hospitality  may  be  discovered  in  His  description  of 
the  Last  Judgment,  in  which  the  righteous  are 
commended  because  '  I  was  a  stranger  and  ye 
took  me  in '  (Mt  25^).     See  also  art.  iNN. 

Literature. — Thomson,  LB,  passim  ;  Edersheim,  Sketches  of 
Jewish  Social  Life  ;  Trumbull,  Oriental  Social  Life  ;  Hastings' 
DB,  s.v.  E.  B.  POLLAKD. 

HOST.— See  (1)  Angels  ;  (2)  Ho.spitality,  Inn, 
Invitation. 

HOUR.— 1.  In  several  of  their  accounts  of  Christ's 
healings,  the  Evangelists  indicate  the  instantane- 
ousness  of  the  cures  by  some  such  expression  as, 


'  He  was  healed  in  the  selfsame  hour'  (Mt  8'^,  cf. 
9"  15-»  17'^  Jn  4=^).  More  definitely  the  word  is 
used  as  a  division  of  the  day  (Mt  2U^-  =•  «•  '=  27'^-  ■", 
cf.  Mk  15^-=«,  Lk  23",  Jn  P»  4«- "  19").  The 
usual  system  of  reckoning  time  was  from  6  a.m. 
to  6  p.m.,  and  again  from  6  p.m.  to  6  a.m.  'In 
the  1st  cent,  of  our  era  the  day  was  divided,  in 
popular  language,  into  twelve  equal  parts  or 
hours,  which  varied  in  length  according  to  the 
season.  .  .  .  The  expression,  "the  first  hour," 
indicated  the  time  when  the  shadow  on  the  dial 
reached  the  mark  which  showed  that  ^j  of  the  day 
had  elapsed'  (Ramsay,  Expositor,  March  1893,  p. 
216  f.).  The  question  has  been  raised,  because  of 
the  apparent  divergence  between  Jn  19"  and  Mk 
15-',  whether  St.  John  adopted  another  method  of 
reckoninu  in  the  Fourth  (Jospel,  viz.  from  midnight 
to  midilay,  nu<\  finiii  miiMay  to  midnight.  Prof. 
Ramsuy  iii;iiiii,nii-  iliat,  though  the  Roman  civil 
day  was  ivikonra  in  1  hi.-,  way,  it  was  not  divided 
into  hours  ;  and  that  the  note  of  time  when  the 
martyrdom  of  Polycarp  took  place,  u/)?  dySiri,  does 
not  prove  its  use  in  Asia  Minor  {I.e.).  But  the 
internal  evidence  of  the  Fourth  Gospel  points 
strongly  to  this  mode  of  reckoning  on  the  part  of 
St.  John.  The  tenth  hour  (Jn  P')  is  more  probably 
10  a.m.  than  4  p.m.,  if  the  two  disciples  lodged 
with  Jesus  'that  day.'  It  harmonizes  with  the 
custom  of  Eastern  women  of  drawing  water  in  the 
evening,  and  accounts  for  the  weariness  of  Jesus, 
if  we  take  '  the  sixth  hour '  of  Jn  4"  not  as  noon, 
but  as  6  p.m.  And  although  we  cannot  look  for 
precision  in  point  of  time  in  Oriental  writers,  the 
divergence  between  the  Synoptists  and  St.  John 
as  to  the  hour  of  Christ's  condemnation  and  cruci- 
fixion is  too  wide  to  be  intelligible  on  any  other 
hyjjothesis  than  that  they  used  different  systems 
of  reckoning.  But  if  the  'sixth  hour'  of  Jn  19" 
means  6  a.m.,  there  is  no  divergence  (see  Westcott, 
St.  John,  p.  282;  Smith,  The  Days  of  Bis  Flesh, 
pp.  528-529 ;  and  for  the  opposite  view,  Dods, 
£xpos.  Gr.  Test.  i.  698,  855,  856).  See,  further,  artt. 
Day,  Time. 

2.  But  Jesus,  living '  in  feelings,  not  in  figures  on 
a  dial,'  and  'counting  time  by  heart-throbs,'  gave 
the  word  an  intense  significance.  To  Him  days 
and  hours  were  moral  magnitudes.  The  appointed 
span  was  not  small,  but  spacious  ('Are  there  not 
twelve  hours  in  the  day?'  Jn  IP),  to  be  employed 
in  strenuous  and  loving  obedience  to  the  Divine 
will  (cf.  Jn  g-").  Until  the  sunset.  He  knew  He  had 
no  reason  to  fear  the  hostility  of  men.  Life  would 
be  as  long  as  duty,  and  in  the  ]jath  of  God's  service 
there  are  no  tragic  foreshortenmgs  (Jn  11'- ').  But 
the  twelfth  hour  of  the  day  was  that  to  which  He 
so  pathetically  refers  as  '  Mine  hour.'  At  the 
marriage  feast  in  Cana,  when  appealed  to  by  His 
mother  with  a  suggestion  for  His  help.  He  replied, 
'Woman,  what  have  I  to  do  with  thee?  Mine 
hour  is  not  yet  come '  ( Jn  2'').  This  may  simply 
mean  that  the  time  for  giving  such  relief  was  not 
opportune,  or  that  the  opportunity  for  miracle- 
working,  or  the  moment  for  self-manifestation,  had 
not  arrived.  But  the  whole  utterance  produces 
the  impression  that  the  appeal  had  aroused  strong 
feelings,  and  created  a  critical  situation  for  Him. 

'  He  was  standing  on  the  threshold  of  His  ministry,  conscious 
of  His  miraculous  power,  and  He  was  questioning  whether  that 
were  the  hour  to  put  it  forth.  .  .  .  The  supplying  of  wine  to  a 
company  of  peasants  seemed  so  trivial,  so  unworthy  of  the 
Messiah',  so  insufficient  for  the  inauguration  of  the  kingdom  of 
heaven  '  (Smith,  The  Days  of  His  Flesh,  p.  65). 

But  is  there  not  even  here  a  reference  to  what 
He  calls  peculiarly  His  hour — 'the  hour  when  the 
Son  of  Man  should  be  glorified'  (Jn  12^,  cf.  17'); 
the  hour  when  He  should  be  betrayed  into  the 
hands  of  sinners  (Mt  26") ;  the  hour  when  the 
Father's  will  gave  Him  over  to  the  power  of  dark- 
ness (Lk  22^)  ?    If  Jesus  went  down  to  the  Jordan 


752 


HOUSE 


HOUSE 


in  order  to  participate  in  the  Baptism  of  Repent- 
ance, conscious  that  His  vocation  as  Messiah  was 
to  be  that  of  the  Suffering  Servant,  and  to  take 
upon  Himself  the  sins  of  His  brethren,  then  the 
thought  of  His  hour  as  the  hour  of  His  sacrifice 
could  never  be  absent  from  His  mind.  And  the 
simple  suggestion  of  His  mother,  involving,  as  it 
did,  for  Him  the  first  exercise  of  a  power  which 
came  to  Him  as  Messiah,  raised  suddenly  and 
vividly  before  Hiiu  the  issue  of  suffering,  and 
called  forth  the  intense  feeling  in  the  words,  '  Mine 
hour  is  not  yet  come.' 
A  similar  tumult  of  emotion  was  produced  to- 


wards the  end   of  Hw   ministry,  byjhe  request 

reply  of 

'The  hour  is  come,  that  the  Son  of  man 


of  the  Greeks  to  see  Him  (Jn  12^").     The  reply 

should  be  glorified.  .  .  .  Except  a  corn  of  wheat 
fall  into  the  ground  and  die,  it  abideth  alone,'  is 
relevant  to  a  prospect  of  possible  exemption  from 
the  cross  whicli  the  request  raised  in  Him,  rather 
than  to  the  request  itself.  Once  more  an  appar- 
ently innocent  intrusion  upon  His  thoughts  had 
brought  before  Him  the  vision  of  His  hour.  He 
saw  that  the  glory  would  be  won  at  a  great  cost, 
and  the  prospect  of  it  brought  distress  of  soul, 
and  ■vvrung  from  Him  the  cry,  '  Father,  what  shall 
I  say?  Save  me  from  this  hour.'  But  immediately 
He  saw  through  the  pain  the  holy  purpose  of  God 
realizing  itself,  and  recovered  His  poise  of  soul 
and  unflinching  devotion.  '  But  for  this  cause 
came  I  unto  this  hour.     Father,  glorify  thy  name.' 

It  was  by  this  simple  word,  therefore,  that  He 
expressed  the  conviction  that  His  death  was  the 
climax  of  His  life,  and  that  the  time  of  its  accom- 
plishment was  vnth  God.  He  would  not  forestall 
it  by  any  premature  manifestation  of  Himself  to 
the  world  (Jn  7^) ;  and  until  His  hour  came.  His 
enemies  were  powerless  against  Him  (v.^  8^).  But 
when  it  came.  He  was  not  reluctant  to  recognize  it. 
Though  it  was  a  dark  hour,  the  hour  of  men  with 
sinister  purpose  and  in  league  ^\ith  Satan  (Lk  22^'), 
He  knew  it  as  the  hour  when  He  should  depart 
out  of  this  world  unto  the  Father  (Jn  13'),  the  hour 
when  God  should  glorify  His  Son  (17'). 

With  the  approach  of  that  hour  which  marked 
the  climax  and  close  of  His  earthly  ministry,  a 
wider  horizon  opens.  A  new  day  of  God  da\vns, 
and  in  it  also  there  is  a  critical  hour — '  the  hour 
when  the  Son  of  Man  cometh '  (Mt  25").  Even  to 
Him  the  precise  point  of  time  was  not  disclosed 
(Mt  24™).  Of  one  thing  He  was  sure,  and  gave 
rf'ppatoil  A\arnini;, — it  would  come  upon  men  aWUi 
st.-utliiiL;  sniMciiiii'ss  :  '  and  in  an  hour  when  ye 
think  iM.f  (Mt  J t '-■«•»' 251=,  cf.Lk  123"- ■•»■•«) ;  and 
He  ciitovi'i's  therewith  His  command  to  'watch,' 
'  be  ready,'  so  that,  though  it  come  suddenly,  it  may 
be  a  glad  surprise.  Joseph  Muir. 

HOUSE  {oUta,  oUof). — The  word  'house'  is  used 
in  the  Gospels,  in  .accordance  with  ancient  Hebrew 
usage,  in  a  twofold  sense,  as  referring  either  to 
the  dwelling,  or  to  the  family  living  in  it.  Thus 
we  have  (1)  'the  house  of  Israel'  (Mt  l(fi),  'the 
house  of  David'  (Lk  1"),  etc.;  (2)  'built  his  house 
upon  a  rock'  (Mt  7^),  'the  house  of  the  ruler' 
(Mk  5^),  etc. 

The  'house,'  as  a  building,  plays  no  such  part 
in  Oriental  as  in  Western  life  and  civilization, 
riimatic  conditions  in  the  East  permit  people  to 
live  much  in  the  open.  Accordingly  we  find 
artisans  and  merchants  plying  their  trades  in  the 
street,  or  in  open  shops  looking  out  on  the  street. 
Then  the  domestic  life  of  the  Oriental  requires 
little  beyond  a  sheltered  place  for  sleeping  and  a 
quiet  place  for  eating.  Tlie  ordinary  house  of  the 
ancient  Hebrew,  Ave  may  be  sure,  was  much  like 
that  found  in  Palestine  to-day — it  could  liardly  be 
cruder,  or  more  primitive.     As  to  Hebrew  arcl^i- 


teeture,  of  either  OT  or  NT  times,  the  Bible  has 
little  to  say.  Architecture  proper  can  hardly  be 
said  to  have  arisen  among  the  Hebrews  before  the 
time  of  the  kings,  say,  about  B.C.  1000.  Then,  it 
would  seem,  it  differed  little  from  that  of  the 
Phoenicians,  Assyrians,  and  Egyptians.  The  style 
of  the  house  would  naturally  be  determined  largely 
by  the  location,  the  materials  at  hand,  and  the 
purpose  to  be  served.  Palestine,  as  known  to  his- 
tory, has  had  few  great  forests,  and  little  timber 
of  any  kind  suited  for  building.  (Solomon  had  to 
import  materials  for  palace  and  temple,  1  K  5'"'). 
Houses  built  in  the  plains  were  usually  constructed 
of  mud,  clay,  or  sun-dried  bricks  (cf.  Job  4"'-'). 
'  Houses  of  clay,'  or  those  buUt  of  sun-dried  bricks, 
could  be  easily  broken  into — a  fact  that  gives  point 
to  our  Lord's  allusion  in  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount, 
when  He  would  dissuade  from  laying  up  treasures 
'  where  thieves  break  through  and  steal '  (Mt  6'"), 
where  it  is  literally  Wlig  through'  (RVm).  Great 
care  needed  to  be  taken  with  the  foundations.  In 
a  limestone  country  like  Palestine,  if  one  dig  deep 
enough,  he  finds  almost  anywhere  a  stratum  of 
solid  rock.  It  is  still  true  that  the  wise  man 
builds  his  house  upon  the  rock  (Mt  7^").  It  is  com- 
mon there  now  to  dig  down  to  the  rock  and  laj- 
the  foundation  of  even  the  '  house  of  clay '  upon 
it.  Mt  7^  '  It  was  founded,'  might  well  be  ren- 
dered, '  It  was  foundationed  upon  the  rock,'  if  we 
had  such  a  word  in  Englisli.  St.  Luke  (6-")  says, 
'  dug,  and  went  deep,  and  laid  a  foundation  upon 
the  rock.' 

In  tlie  mountainous  regions  limestone  rock  was 
tlie  building  material  chiefly  used,  a.s  it  was 
abundant,  easily  quarried,  and  readily  worked. 
The  house  of  stone  was, 
or  developed  from,  the 
country  invited  to  this.  First  the  natural  cave 
would  be  used,  and,  as  there  was  demand,  arti- 
ficially enlarged.  Then,  occasionally,  in  some  in- 
viting place,  a  cave  would  be  hewn  out  of  the 
rock,  d&  novo.  Finally,  a  wall  would  be  built  in 
front  for  protection,  or  privacy,  and  so  the  cave 
would  be  converted  into  a  sheltered  dwelling. 
Henceforth  it  would  serve  as  a  model  for  de- 
tached stone  houses.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  in  the 
ancient  village  of  Siloam  are  found  all  these  kinds 
of  houses,  and  they  illustrate  this  process  of  de- 
velopment. (See  Jewish  Encyc.  art.  'House'). 
BricKs  were  sometimes  used  even  in  the  mountain 
regions,  though  counted  inferior  to  hewn  stone 
(2  S  12^').  Many  stone  houses  were  unpretentious 
and  rude,  being  built  of  rough,  unhewn  stones ; 
l)ut  some,  then  as  now,  were  built  of  hewn  stones, 
with  vaiiUed  stone  roofs,  e.g.  the  palaces  of  the 
rirli.  <ii  of  Hie  ruling  class  (cf.  'the  house  of  the 
nil-r;  Mk  .- ".  'tlie  high  priest's  house,'  Lk  22"). 
Soiii.ijiih-  -pare  for  walking  was  left  around 
tlie  ,l.)iiie.  l,ut  often  all  the  space  between  the 
dome  and  the  battlement  (Dt  22*)  would  be  filled 
in,  so  as  to  give  the  much-desired  flat  roof— tlie 
favourite  resort  of  the  Oriental  in  the  cool  of  the 
evening  (2  S  11=),  and  an  inviting  sleeping-iilace  in 
summer  (1  S  9-^).  Such  a  house  M-ill  often  have  a 
hut  of  branches,  or  of  vine-covered  trellLs-work,  on 
the  roof  (cf.  2  S  16~,  Neh  8"),  and  sometimes  a 
more  substantial  room,  where  guests  of  honour  are 
lodged  (1  K  17",  2  K  4'").  For  'summer  parlour,' 
cf.  Jg  3-°,  RVm  has  rightly  'upper  chamber  of 
cooling.'  (See  Mk  14'',  and  cf.  'upper  room'  else- 
where). From  the  roof  one  could  easily  see  what 
was  going  on  in  the  street,  or  on  a  neighbouring 
housetop  (cf.  1  S  9=°) ;  indeed,  could  even  step  from 
roof  to  roof,  and  thus  walk  the  whole  length  of  a 
street,  as  the  present  writer  once  did  in  Damascus 
(cf.  Mk  13'=;  Jos.  Ant.  xiii.  140  [ed.  Niese]). 

The  humliler  house  of  the  plain  was  very  simple, 
having  usually  only  one  apartment,  which  some- 


HOUSEHOLD 


HUMANITY  OF  CHKIST 


753 


times  sheltered  both  man  and  beast.  The  walls 
were  sometimes  smeared  with  clay  (Lv  14^'),  some- 
times plastered  (Ezk  13",  Dt  27^).  The  roof  was 
made,  no  doubt,  as  that  of  the  common  Arab 
house  is  made  to-day,  by  laying  rough  beams 
about  three  feet  apart,  then  laying  reeds  or  brush- 
wood close  and  thick  across,  covering  it  with  some- 
thing like  tlie  thickly  matted  thorn  -  bush  called 
bcllan,  and  then  spreading  over  tlie  whole,  lirst 
a  coat  of  thick  mortar,  and  then  one  of  marl  or 
earth,  and  rolling  it.  Such  roofs  would  require 
frequent  repairing  and  rolling  to  keep  out  the  rain, 
and,  if  neglected,  would  get  so  soaked  with  the 
tropical  rains  that  they  would  cave  in.  In  this 
way  whole  villages  have  had  to  be  abandoned,  and 
their  houses  left  ilesolate.  It  was  proliably  one  of 
the  simplest  of  smli  i.inl's  ili.il  whs  'lirokenup' 
(Mk  2^)  when  tlir  |i,ir.ilj  ( ir  «:i-  in  <luwn  from  the 
housetop  at  C'iipurii:iniii  ml..  I  In'  i.ifM'rice  of  Jesus 
to  be  healed.  Tin'  wlmlr  MWit  \\..uld  seem  to 
have  been  the  extemjior.tneous  ile\ice  of  plain 
peasants,  accustomed  to  open  their  roofs  and  let 
down  grain,  straw,  and  other  articles,  as  they  still 
do  in  that  country  (Thomson,  Land  and  Book,  ii. 
6ff.).  The  furniture  of  such  a  house  would  be 
very  simple, — a  few  mats,  or  pallets,  spread  on 
the  ground  floor  for  sleeping  on  at  night,  then 
rolled  up  and  put  aside  in  the  day ;  latterly  a 
'  divan '  set  against  tlie  wall  on  one  side,  a  small 
table,  a  few  rude  chairs,  a  niche  in  the  wall  for  the 
primitive  little  lamp,  unless  it  was  of  a  sort  to 
hang  from  a  rafter,  and  a  few  large  jugs  for  grain, 
water,  wine,  or  oil. 

The  palace  of  the  rich  would  difler  from  such  a 
house,  of  course,  in  having  more  rooms,  and  richer 
and  more  varied  furniture.  The  numerous  rooms, 
often  preferably  arranged  in  a  suite  on  the  ground 
floor  around  one  or  more  open  courts,  were  often 
built  in  storeys.  Fine  woods,  olive,  cedar,  etc., 
were  used  for  the  doors  and  windows,  .-iiid    tlie 

floors  were  sometimes  ni.-nli'dl  w I,  Iml  often  of 

cement  or  stone,  or  even  oi  liili  mos.iics  ;  while 
the  walls  in  rare  instamcs  were  inliiiil  with  ivory 
and  beaten  gold  (cf.  Am  5",  1  K  '2i!''''  (!'"•  -"). 

The  Grseco-Roman  architecture  of  the  Hellen- 
istic period  did  not  exert  any  very  marked  or 
lasting  influence  upon  the  architecture  of  Palestine, 
partly  because  of  the  Jewish  antijiathy  to  the  Hel- 
lenizing  tendency,  and  partly  because  it  was  con- 
fined to  the  larger  buildings,  such  as  palaces,  baths, 
theatres,  temples,  etc.  See,  further,  Hastings' Z>i3, 
art.  '  House.' 

Literature.  —  The  Heb.  Archaeologiea  of  Keil,  Benzinger, 
Nowack ;  Edersheim,  Jewish  Social  Life ;  Tristram,  Eastern 
Customs  in  Bible  Lands  ;  Mackie,  Bible  Manners,  etc. 

Geo.  B.  Eager. 
HOUSEHOLD.— In  Mt  24«  {oUerda),  Lk  12« 
(Se/)a7re(a)  =  servants,  i.e.  the  dependants  on  an 
estate  to  whom  the  ste\v;ird  whs  bound  in  our 
Lord's  parable  to  serve  out  rations  :it  intervals  of 
a  day,  a  week,  or  a  month.  Itw.is  thoir  dependent 
and  helpless  condition  wiiieh  A\as  the  test  of  the 
steward's  faithfulness  to  las  trust .  The  same 
English  word  translates  otKiakoi  in  Mt  in''- ''■,  /.,•. 
tliiMnmates  of  a  house,  subordimite  imleiil  to  tlie 
master,  but  attached  to  him  by  ties  ol  rel.itionsliip 
or  marriage.  In  v.^'' tJiere  is 'a  conl  i:is|,  and  eoni- 
jiarison  between  the  oiViaMu  (Cliri-ls  ilisii|.li's)  ,inil 
th(^  oiKoSe<nr6Tr)S  (the  Lord  liiiiiseli),  .iiul  Chri-l 
warns  the  Twelve  that  if  He  has  been  called  Beel- 
zebul  (or  Beelzebub)  by  His  enemies  (cf.  Mt  d'-'^  12=^ 
Jn  S^},  those  who  belong  to  His  household  cannot 
expect  to  be  free  from  this  'reproach  of  Christ.' 
In  v.'s  tlie  contrast  is  between  some  members  of  a 
household  and  the  rest.  Here  He  warns  them  of 
the  inevitable  opposition  that  will  arise  when  some 
in  a  house  love  Christ  supremely,  while  others  are 
hostile  or  inditi'erent  to  Him.    The  words  of  ancient 

VOL.  I.— 4? 


prophecy  (Mic  7")  then  receive  a  fulfilment.  The 
very  closeness  of  association  emphasizes  the  antag- 
onism, and  '  a  man's  foes  shall  be  they  of  his  own 
household.'  C.  H.  Pkichaed. 

HOUSEHOLDER This  term  as  well  as  '  good- 
man  of  the  house,'  'master  of  the  house,'  are 
ditterent  translations  of  the  same  Greek  word  oi\o- 
ScaTrdrris.  It  is  rendered  '  householder'  in  tho 
parables  of  the  Tares  and  the  Wheat  (Mt  13'-'),  of 
the  Owner  bringing  forth  his  treasures  new  and 
old  (Mt  IS'''-),  of  the  Labourers  In  the  Vineyard 
(Mt  20'),  of  the  Vineyard  let  out  to  husbandmen 
(21'''i),  with  special  application  to  Christ  as  Head  of 
the  Church.  The  phrase  'goodman  of  the  house' 
is  applied  (Mk  U",  Lk22'i)  to  the  owner  of  the 
house  in  which  tho  L.ist  Su|i|.er  was  to  be  pre- 
pared. The  transl.ation  'm.-i-ler  of  tlic  house'  is 
found  in  Lk  123»  RV  (A\'  ■ -o.mIimmii '),  Mt  24«,  of 
the  owner  or  overseer  wlm^e  iluly  it,  is  to  jirotect 

occurs  .-llso  in  I  he  p.!  I  :l  Me  of  1 1  !!•  I  i  re;i  I  Sllp|MT,  Lk 
14=Meo 

denotii: 
involve 


that   of 


kin,^  ol  .Ml  Ii-.:-  ■),  .-llso  as 
liouse  whose  ]ieiseeution 
Kiidinates,  Mt  lU-^-  (.see 
Household)  ;  and  once  more  in  the  parable  of  the 
Unfaithful,  against  whom  the  door  was  shut,  Lk 
15^  (cf.  parable  of  the  Ten  Virgins,  Mt  25). 

C.  H.  Pkichard. 
HULEH See  Jordan. 

HUMANITY  OF  CHRIST. -The  simple.st  fact 
about  Jesus  Christ,  as  we  see  Him  pictured  in  the 
Gospels,  is  that  He  was  a  man.  Whatever  there 
was  peculiar  about  His  per.son,  it  did  not  destroy 
the  reality  of  His  humanity  or  take  Him  out  of 
the  genus  'man.'  But  this  simple  fact,  seen  in  all 
its  relations,  admits  of  varied  consideration,  and 
indeed  demands  it. 

1.  His  human  body. — Jesus  had  a  body,  visible 
to  the  eye,  giving  the  natural  impression,  as  other 
bodies  do,  of  reality.  It  came  into  life  by  the  natural 
channel  of  birth  (Mt  1=^  2>,  Lk  2'') ;  it  grew  as 
others  do  (Lk  2") ;  was  nourished  by  food  as  others 
are  (Lk  1^-^,  cf.  24-"-'3) .  gigpt  (Lj-  yssj  .  ^^.^^  re- 
stricted by  space  as  ordinary  men  are,  and  thus 
laboriously  travelled  about  (Lk  S',  Jn  4») ;  was 
weary  (Jn  4") ;  sufiered  under  the  inhumanities 
attending  the  Trial  and  Execution  (Jn  lO^^-^"), 
although,  in  the  restraint  of  the  Gospel  narrative, 
no  express  mention  is  made  of  this  fact ;  and  truly 
died  (as  is  made  evident  by  the  peculiar  character 
of  the  phenomenon  related  in  Jn  19''^,  an  un- 
conscious testimony,  by  one  not  acquainted  with 
the  principles  of  anatomy,  as  to  the  reality  of  His 
death).     See  BoDV. 

With  the  reality  of  His  body  is  closely  associated 
the  fact  of  the  teiniitability  of  Jesus.  The  Epistle 
to  the  Hebrews  lays  einiiliasis  ii|ion  tliis  fact  as  a 
part  of  His  qualil'i'i  .iti.m  for  tlie  w  oric  of  Saviour 
(018  415).  The  (;os|ieI  lii~ioiy  ronlains  a  nari'ative 
of  temptation  (.'Mt  4'"  , )  in  whirli  .lesus  is  assailed 
by  solicitations  addressed  to  Ills  pliysiiiil  ajipetite, 
to  His  love  of  display,  and  to  lli-'.iinliit  ion.  As 
the  reality  of  the  human  body  is  tlie  pie-n]i|iosition 
of  tlie  reality  of  tlie  tein|italion,  so  the  eli.iracter 
of  tlii>  teniiiiatioii  ronliniis  tlie  proof  of  that  body. 

Sll^lll]^ill;.;    fr |.li\~i..il   ].ain  may  have  been  a 

pait  of  liie  a_;ony  ol'  llie  ( linden  (Lk  22''" ''■',  cf.  the 
iiiteriireLatiou  gi\eii  in  lie  5'-*).  Naturally  the 
sacred  history,  which  is  engaged  with  things  done 
rather  than  with  inner  processes  wliich  are  con- 
cealed from  human  observation,  and  which  finds 
no  occasion  to  trace  the  course  of  inner  temptations 
which  never  result  in  outward  sin,  makes  no  men- 
tion of  the  appeal  which  alluring  objects  must 
have  made  to  the  sensibilities  of  the  man  Jesus 
Christ.     But  the  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews  ('in  all 


(54 


HUMANITY  OF  CHRIST 


HUMANITY  OF  CHKIST 


points  tempted  like  as  we  are,'  4'^)  sustains  the 
inference  which  imist  nctessarily  follow  from  the 
possession  of  a  huniaii  nature,  that  there  were  such 
appeals  to  tliclniiiiaiiityuf.Icsus.  See  TEMPTATION. 
2.  HU  liumon  .yniiL — Had  Jesus  a  true  human 
soul  ?  The  answer  to  such  a  question  is  to  be 
obtained  only  by  observing  the  phenomena  of  His 
recorded  life,  and  drawing  the  necessary  inferences 
from  what  we  see.  The  statement  of  fact  is,  for- 
tunately, very  clear  and  copious.  The  moment  we 
study  the  account  of  His  independent  life  we  find 
the  evidences  accumulating  that  in  its  inward,  as 
well  as  its  outward,  processes  it  is  a  truly  liuman 
life.  In  the  temple  we  find  the  exercise  of  a 
desire  —  curiosity  —  and  the  acknowledgment  of 
mental  processes  both  like  those  of  other  men  and 
commanding  their  respect  (His  'understanding,' 
Lk  2«-'").  In  His  home  in  Nazareth  He  followed 
a  life  of  obedience  (Lk  2°'  'subject').  As  He 
grew  in  stature,  so  He  did  in  '  wisdom '  (Lk  2*- 
ffo^k,  'varied  knowledge  of  things  human  and 
Divine,'  Grimm-Thayer).  At  His  temptation  He 
showed  an  intellectual  knowledge  of  the  Scriptures 
(Mt  4'- ''■").  His  discourses  moved  along  accord- 
ing to  the  laws  of  human  address,  idea  suggesting 
idea  according  to  the  laws  of  natural  association. 
The  lower  ranges  of  reasoning  are  pursued  by  Him 
as  by  others,  and  once  He  even  expresses  His 
thought  syllogistically  (Jn  8").  But  the  higher 
ranges  of  reason,  the  intuitive  knowledge  of  the 
meaning  of  great  trutlis,  were  peculiarly  His,  as  is 
seen  in  the  wider  interpretation  of  the  OT  (Mt 
517.  21-48)^  a.nd  in  the  lofty  ethical  standard  which 
He  sets  up,  itself  another  instance  of  the  larger 
interpretation  of  the  OT,  forming  the  still  un- 
surpassed ideal  of  human  conduct,  more  and  more 
insisted  upon  in  the  social  struggles  for  progress 
in  our  own  time,  the  binding  force  and  universal 
validity  of  the  law  of  love  (Mt  22''-*').  To  this 
standard  He  held  Himself  (Jn  10'°  17^_Mt  15^ 
20**).  Thus  He  manifested  at  every  essential  point 
the  possession  of  an  intellect  characterized  by  the 
same  faculties  and  working  by  the  same  laws  as 
our  own.  The  same  was  no  less  true  of  the 
seji^ibilifics,  even  those  which  we  are  inclined  to 
view  as  trivial,  the  undue  indulgence  of  which  we 
stigmatize  as  weakness.  Traces  may  be  found  of 
the  operation  of  every  one  of  the  distinct  emotions. 
Thus,  for  example,  He  had  a  love  for  esteem,  mani- 
fested in  His  notice  of  the  omission  of  certain  acts 
of  courtesy  in  Lk  T""** ;  He  displayed  the  natural 
affections,  such  as  love  of  friends  (Jn  15'*),  of 
family  (Jn  19=«),  of  country  (Mt  23^-^) ;  He  exer- 
cised complacent  love  (Mk  14«),  moral  indignation 
(Lk  11«,  Jn  8«);  His  spiritual  background  was 
that  of  joy  and  peace  (Jn  14",  Lk  10"').  The  %cill 
wsls  moved  by  appropriate  considerations  as  ours  is 
(Jn  T''"),  and  displays  the  same  sort  of  activities, 
being  sustained  by  the  operation  of  the  same  forces 
as  in  ordinary  men.  Thus  the  struggle  in  time  of 
temptation  is  to  maintain  His  spiritual  ideals  (Mt 
4'-",  Jn  12='),  and  Jesus  concentrates  His  attention, 
as  men  who  will  be  victorious  in  time  of  temptation 
must,  upon  the  proper  object  of  human  attention, 
upon  the  great  purpose  for  which  He  has  (ome  into 
the  world  (Jn  18"  and  19").  The  virtues  which 
may  be  particularly  called  the  vdrtues  of  the  will 
are  exeniplilied,  such  as  persistence,  shown  in  His 
repeated  liealing  upon  tiie  Sabbath  (Jn  5'°,  l\Ik 
3--'),  in  His  teaching  su-stained  amid  the  constant 
evidence  that  the  Jews  were  inclined  decisively  to 
reject  Him  (of.  the  discourses  in  Jn  5  and  foil, 
chapters).  Even  the  more  mysterious  operations  of 
the  subconscious,  or  better  of  the  supra-conscious, 
self  are  to  be  noted  in  Him,  not  merely  in  the 
displays  of  genius  which  He,  as  no  other  man, 
po.ssessed,  but  in  the  manifestations  of  a  power 
the  operations  of  which   first  brought  it  to  His 


emi'irical  con.sciousness  (Mk  5'"  RV).  In  fact,  the 
belter  psychologist  a  man  is,  the  more  clearly  he 
can  see,  in  the  simple  narratives  of  the  Gospels, 
the  operations  of  every  fundamental  faculty  and 
law  of  the  luunan  soul. 

3.  The  7ucessity  of  Christ's  hvmrinify.—'Vo  one 
wlio  sees  no  Divinity  in  Christ,  the  question  of  the 
necessity  of  His  humanity  is  meaningless,  not  to 
say  impertinent.  Of  course,  He  must  be  human, 
says  such  a  one,  since  this  is  the  only  path  to 
leadership.  God  has  committed  His  work  for  men 
in  the  w'orld  to  men.  Apart  from  those  mysterious 
communications  of  revelation  which  selected 
teachers  of  men  have  had,  the  only  possible  teacher 
of  men  is  a  man  who  can  approach  them  with 
messages  which  they  can  understand,  in  words 
appropriate  to  their  nature.  However  true  these 
general  principles  are,  the  standpoint  here  assumed 
is  not  that  of  the  Gospels.  To  them,  Christ '  came ' 
to  the  earth  (see  Divinity  of  Christ)  ;  and  the 
question  arises  wliv  tlii>  is  so.  why  He  took  upon 
HimselfhununiiyA.nl  -I.Tai,..-  llesh' (.Jn  1").  Did 
this  question  aii-.-  in  tlic  minds  of  the  Aijostles? 
and  is  there  trarr  ot  s|ic(ulaliiin,  or  of  interest  as 
to  it,  in  the  Gospels?  Tliere  are  indisputable 
traces  of  both  in  the  Epistles,  especially  m  that 
to  the  Hebrews.  It  is  represented  in  this  Epistle 
that  the  object  of  Christ's  coming  in  the  flesh  was 
particularly  to  offer  His  body  a  sacrifice  (lO*-'",  cf. 
2"- ") ;  but  not  merely  this,  for  the  jxissession  of 
humanity  itself  afibrds  Him  a  spiritual  qualifica- 
tion for  His  priestly  work,  in  that  He  shares  the 
lot  of  men,  and  learns  thereby  how  to  symjiathize 
with  them  in  their  temptations  and  their  failures 
(217-  IS  415. 16  52)  There  is  also  the  suggestion  of  an 
idea  which  is  brought  out  more  clearly  in  the 
Fourth  Gospel,  —  the  same  as  that  suggested 
above, — that  the  humanity  was  the  necessary 
medium  of  the  revelation  of  God,  since  it  is 
through  Jesus  that  God  '.speaks'  (Jn  1'  3").  This 
form  of  presentation  covers  the  point  why  the 
humanity  was  a  necessity  when  once  God  had 
determined  to  enter  ujjon  the  stage  of  human 
history  as  Redeemer.  But  St.  John  pushes  the 
matter  a  little  farther  back.  He  begins  with  the 
eternal  'Word,'  which  was  in  the  beginning  with 
God  and  was  God,  and  sets  forth  His  appearing  in 
the  world  under  the  figure  of  light  shining  into 
darkness  (1'  3"  8'-),  and  needed  because  of  the 
darkness.  The  ground  of  the  Incarnation  is  found 
in  this  need,  in  the  existence  of  sin,  and  the  neces- 
sity of  salvation  through  faith  (V).  It  is  to  pro- 
duce 'children  of  God'  (l'=)  that  Christ  comes. 
The  coming  is  the  manifestation  of  the  glory  of 
God  (l'<),  but  that  glory  is  the  moral  glory  of 
'grace  and  truth.'  The  culmination  of  the  whole 
work  of  redemption  is,  however,  the  cross  (3" 
lO"- 18  1513^  cf.  He  W-  "),  and  it  is  the  human  body 
and  soul  of  Christ  that  suffered  there  (19=*).  This 
is  the  central  idea  of  the  Fourth  Gosi>ei ;  but  other 
elements  are  not  lacking,  as  the  necessity  of  the 
humanity  to  the  work  of  instruction,  which  was  a 
main  element  of  Jesus'  work  (3"-  ''•  "•  ^-),  and  which 
culminated  in  the  revelation  of  the  Father,  which 
needed  humanity  as  the  medium  of  communication 
to  human  beings  (14"  12«  16").  Union  with  the 
Father  was  also  essential  to  Christ's  work  (14"  etc. ), 
because  this  consisted  in  the  manifestation  of  God's 
name  (17*).  The  necessary  spiritual  sustenance, 
finally,  was  gained  through  the  body  and  blood 
of  Christ  (6«-»-"),  that  i-,  tlnunJh  what  His 
humanity  alone  was  capalilr  ot  doin-  tor  man. 

4.  Unique  elements  </  "<■■:  /i",,i<r,fifii. — The 
humanity  of  Christ,  in  order  tu  satisfy  the  con- 
ditions now  before  us,  must  be  a  reality.  No 
'  phantom,'  or  merely  phenomenal  body,  could 
perform  the  offices  required  in  these  Scripture 
passages  of  the  humanity.     But  other  elements 


HUMANITY  OF  CHRIST 


HUMILIATION  OF  CHRIST       755 


also  appear  which  give  a  new  aspect  to  the 
human  nature.  Among  tliese  need  not  be  reckoned 
the  origin  of  tlie  body  of  Jesus  by  miraculous 
conception,  as  related  in  the  First  and  Third 
Gospels ;  for  however  the  process  of  development 
from  the  first  cell  might  be  initiated,  the  resulting 
development  must  be  in  any  case  that  of  a  human 
body.  Side  by  side  with  evident  human  limitations, 
such  as  ignorance  (as  of  the  day  and  hour  of  His 
OAvn  return  to  the  earth,  Mt  24?'^),  there  exist 
phenomena  of  a  like  nature  altogether  transcend- 
ing humanity,  such  as  the  knowledge  by  which 
He  not  only  'knew  what  was  in  man'  (Jn  2^), 
read  the  thoughts  of  men  often  as  an  open  book 
(Mt  g*  12=5,  Lk  68  Q"),  but,  above  all,  knew  per- 
fectly the  will  of  the  Father  and  the  mysteries 
of  Divine  truth.  He  walked  laboriously  from 
Judaea  to  Galilee  (Jn  4*),  but  He  could  suddenly 
appear  upon  the  surface  of  the  sea  in  the  storm, 
walking  upon  the  water  (Mt  14==  ||).  These  and 
other  such  considerations  (see  Divinity  of  Christ) 
raise  the  question  how  these  things  could  consist 
in  Him,  that  is,  the  question  of  the  nature  of  the 
Person  of  Christ,  a  question  belonging  to  dogmatics, 
and  thus  lying  outside  of  the  scope  of  this  article. 
But  —  this  is  the  main  point  —  whatever  more 
than  humanity  there  was  in  Christ,  the  evidence 
alreadjr  cited  is  decisive  as  to  the  reality  of  His 
humanity. 

S.  The  unity  of  Jesus'  consciousness.  —  Christ 
was,  then,  a  man.  Does  this  word  comprehens- 
ively express  the  Gospel  teaching  as  to  His  per- 
son 1  He  had  a  personality  as  men  are  persons. 
He  had  a  consciousness  which  expressed  itself  by 
the  pronoun  '  I.'  Was  this  a  human  consciousness, 
so  that  when  asked  as  to  Himself  Jesus  would 
have  replied  :  '  /  am  a  man  '  ?  There  are  two 
elements  in  the  answer  to  this  question.  («)  Jesus' 
consciousness  was  a  unity.  He  passes  easily  from 
the  consideration  of  earthly  to  heavenly  things, 
from  walking  upon  the  water  to  sitting  quietly  in 
the  boat,  as  if  both  of  these  things  belonged  to 
Him  e(^ually.  The  impression  made  upon  the  un- 
sophisticated reader  or  the  Gospels  is  that  of  a 
single  consciousness.  In  fact,  in  order  to  be  ex- 
plicable at  all,  the  Gospels  must  convey  such  an 
impression.  But  pivotal  passages,  even  those 
which  have  seemed  to  give  a  basis  for  the  idea 
that  He  spoke  now  '  as  God  '  and  now  '  as  man,' 
do  not  justify  such  an  inference  when  carefully 
considered.  He  did  not  mean  in  Mt  4^"  'Thou 
(Satan)  shalt  worship  the  Lord  thy  God  (me),'  and 
not  I  thee.  He  meant  that  the  law  of  worship  for 
any  one,  and  for  Him  as  bound  to  fulfil  all  right- 
eousness (Mt  3'=),  was  the  worship  of  the  Lord 
only.  In  Mt  8^""  and  parallels  He  was  not  in 
one  capacity  asleep  in  the  boat  and  in  another 
watching  over  the  disciples  in  that  storm,  but  He 
was  totally  asleep  as  He  appeared.  He  did  not 
chide  them  for  lack  of  faith  in  such  a  waking 
providence  of  His  own,  of  which  they  had  no 
knowledge,  but  for  their  lack  of  faith  in  God  (cf. 
Mk  4''"),  whose  messenger  Christ  was,  and  who 
would  care  for  both  Him  and  them.  In  Mk  5*" 
and  parallels  it  is  not  Jesus  in  one  personality 
healing  the  woman  and  in  another  inquiring  what 
had  happened,  that  is  brought  before  us ;  but 
God  the  Father  made  use  of  Him  to  answer  the 
petition,  unknown  to  Him  but  known  to  God,  and 
He  became  conscious  in  this  use  of  Himself  that 
He  was  so  used  ('having  come  to  perceive  that  the 
power  which  [often,  on  other  occasions]  went  forth 
from  him  had  [on  this  occasion]  gone  forth,'  cf. 
KV). 

(6)  The  centre  of  this  personality,  the  Ego  of 
this  undivided  consciousness,  is  God.  Whenever 
He  sjieaks  of  His  coming  into  the  world,  it  is 
always  God  that  speaks,  not  less  in  Mt  lO^'*  and 


parallels  than  in  Jn  3'=*  10'».  This  fact  stands  side 
by  side  with  such  facts  as  the  confession  of  ignor- 
ance. They  are  never  allowed  to  get  far  apart. 
When  we  have  the  passage  Mt  24""  confessing 
ignorance,  it  is  preceded  by  the  glorious  description 
of  the  return  of  the  Son  of  Man  in  Divine  majesty 
(v. 2"),  and  followed  by  the  Judgment  scene  of  iS^'-"*. 
There  is  no  trace  of  a  sense  of  transition  or  of 
shock  in  passing  from  one  form  of  consciousness 
to  the  other,  because  there  is  no  such  shock,  no 
transition  (see  Kenosis).  The  solution  of  this 
problem,  of  the  unity  of  the  consciousness  in  the 
midst  of  such  apparent  contradictions  in  the  con- 
tents of  consciousness,  is,  again,  a  problem  of 
dogmatics. 

6.  The  signijirnnce  of  the  humaniti/  of  Christ 
for  r cliff io».  —The  interest  of  dogmatics  in  the 
humanity  of  Christ  lies  in  the  doctrine  of  a  true 
Incarnation,  which  is  the  foundation  of  the  doc- 
trines of  Atonement  and  Forgiveness.  The  interest 
of  religion  in  Christ's  humanity  is  the  interest  of 
believers  in  the  forgiveness  of  sins,  who  need  to 
feel  the  identification  of  their  Redeemer  with 
themselves.  It  is  not  without  profound  significance 
that  it  is  said  that  judgment  is  committed  to  the 
Son  of  Man  (Jn  5").  Whatever  else  of  deepest 
truth  there  may  be  in  it,  there  is  this,  that  the 
sinner  needs  to  feel  the  identification  of  his  Judge 
with  himself  by  the  possession  of  a  common  human 
nature.  When  the  Judge  knows  both  the  per- 
sistency and  depth  of  sin  on  the  one  hand,  and  the 
weakness  and  temptations  of  man  on  the  other, 
—then  only  will  the  sinner  be  assured  that  the 
proffered  forgiveness  is  for  him.  It  is,  again,  the 
interest  of  believers  in  God,  who  get  higher  ideas 
of  God's  goodness  from  the  greatness  of  the  con- 
descension involved  in  His  '  becoming  flesh.'  It 
is,  further,  the  interest  of  believers  in  Jesus,  who, 
when  they  understand  that  Jesus  is  identified  with 
us  by  the  possession  of  our  common  humanity, 
feel  a  new  confidence ;  are  stimulated  to  more 
frequent  prayer ;  become  conscious  that  He  truly 
draws  near  to  them ;  regard  their  varied  lot  in 
life,  which  He  has  shared,  as  sanctified  thereby ; 
bear  with  greater  equanimity  their  sorrows,  which 
He  also  bore ;  find  in  Him  their  pattern  of  life 
(see  Obedience,  §  ii.);  and  thus  see  in  Him  not 
an  abstraction,  but  a  real,  objective,  and  personal 
Redeemer  and  object  of  faith,  a  Captain,  and  the 
Head  of  the  Church.  See,  further,  INCARNATION, 
Son  op  Man. 

Literature.— Dale,  Christian  Doctrine,  46-73 ;  Stalker,  Imago 
Christi,  passim ;  Ullmann,  Sinlessness  of  Jesm,  62  ff. ;  Weiidt, 
Teaching  of  Jemi-s,  v.  136 fE. ;  Fairbairn,  Christ  in  Modem 
Theology,  347  fl. ;  F.  W.  Robertson,  Sermons,  i.  99  fl. ;  lExpositor, 
V.  iv.  [189BJ  388  ff.  On  the  union  of  the  human  with  the  Divine 
in  the  Person  of  Christ  see  the  Christological  sections  of  standard 
works  on  Christian  Doctrine. 

Frank  Hugh  Foster. 
HUMILIATION  OF  CHRIST.— 1.  Incarnation.— 
Jesus  Christ  is  .-t  i.icjlilcm.  And  yet  He  is  not  so 
much  a  imjlilcm  :i,s  man  would  be  without  Him. 
Indeed  He  is,  in  a  true  sense,  the  solution  of  the 
problem  of  man.  Nevertheless,  to  the  intellect, 
demanding  that  everything  in  the  heavens  above 
and  on  the  earth  beneath  be  reduced  to  'the 
measure  of  man's  mind,'  He  remains  a  problem. 
The  expressions  of  His  consciousness  of  pre-exist- 
ence  constitute  one  of  the  chief  elements  of  that 
problem.  But,  taken  in  connexion  with  two  facts 
of  His  history,  even  this  aspect  of  His  person  is 
not  so  dense  a  problem  as  when  it  is  considered  by 
itself.  These  two  facts  are  (1)  the  expressions  of 
His  self-consciousness,  direct  and  incidental,  as  to 
His  relation  to  God  on  the  one  hand,  and  to  total 
humanity  on  the  other ;  and  (2)  His  ettects  in  the 
world  and  on  the  world.  Even  the  pre-oxistence 
of  Jesus  Christ,  when  taken  in  connexion  with 
these  two  outstanding  facts,  is,  on  the  whole,  a 


756       HUMILIATION  OF  CHRIST 


HUMILIATION  OF  CHRIST 


less  problem  and  a  smaller  difficulty  than  the 
world  of  humanity  would  be  without  Him. 

Furthermore,  it  would  be  more  difficult  to  be- 
lieve that  a  being  who  had  the  consciousness  that 
Jesus  had,  who  has  done  for  humanity  what  Jesus 
luis  done,  and  who  is  to  humanity  what  Jesus  is, 
should  have  had  the  absolute  beginning  of  His 
existence  at  a  late  point  in  time,  than  to  believe 
that  He  came  out  of  eternity  and  is  of  the  eternal 
order.  In  other  wcul-,  ;i--iimi;i;_;  and  aeeepun^ 
the  pre-existence  of  .li-u-  (  lnUt.  mystery  thciu.:;h 
it  be,  it  is  easier  to  umleistanil  His  imiqne  earthly 
history,  His  character.  His  consciousness,  His 
revelations,  His  work.  His  actual  efl'ects  on  the 
world  and  on  men,  both  in  the  past  and  at  the 
present,  than  it  would  be  >vithout  that  assumption. 
At  all  events,  He  has  in  several  instances  ex- 
pressed the  consciousness  of  haWng  existed  in  a 
previous  state  before  His  advent  into  this  world 
(Jn  313  6^  858  16f  i75.34)_  xijis  pre-existent  state 
was  one  of  intimate  association  and  intercom- 
munion with  God  and  participation  in  the  glory  of 
the  Eternal  Father.  It  is  also  one  of  the  under- 
lying presuppositions  in  St.  Paul's  Epistles  (1  Co 
88,  2  Co  S\  Ph  2=-8,  Col  11=-").  It  is  found  also  in 
an  original  setting  in  Hebrews  (1--^). 

Now,  whatever  may  be  the  meaning  of  these 
great  passages,  whatever  the  pre-incamate  riches 
and  glory  of  Christ,  He  voluntarily  submitted  to 
the  surrender  of  the  resources  of  a  Divine  state 
for  the  lowliness  of  a  human  lot  and  the  extreme 
of  human  poverty,  and  to  the  relinquishment  of 
His  equal  participation  in  the  Divine  glory  in 
exchange  for  the  nethermost  depth  of  human 
humiliation.  Exactly  what  was  involved  in  His 
self-humiliation  from  the  Divine  to  the  human  is 
treated  specifically  imder  the  articles  on  Pre- 
EXISTEN'CE,  Kenosis,  and  lNC.\llN.\TION.  Con- 
lining  our  attention,  then,  in  this  article  to  His 
earthly  history,  we  find  that  His  whole  life.  His 
entire  sojourn  on  earth,  was  a  humiliation.  His 
incarnation  was  but  the  first  stage  in  His  humilia- 
tion, \vhich  continued  by  a  deepening  descent  to 
the  very  end  of  His  eartlily  life.  His  whole  career 
in  this  world  was  a  protracted  humiliation  or 
succession  of  humiliations  between  the  humiliation 
of  His  incarnation  and  the  humiliation  of  His 
crucifixion.  It  is  worthy  of  note  that  the  words 
of  St.  Paul,  '  he  humbled  himself '  (in  Ph  2'),  refer 
to  experiences  of  His  earthly  life  and  not  to  the 
process  of  His  incarnation. 

2.  Sis  earthly  life  to  the  assumption  of  the  Mes- 
sianic mission. — The  circmnstances  of  His  birth 
were  most  painful.  It  occurred,  not  in  the  sheltered 
privacy,  and  amid  the  comforts,  of  home,  but  while 
His  mother  was  on  a  humiliating  and  painful 
pilgrimage,  and  among  the  feeding  beasts,  sur- 
rounded by  the  filth  of  a  stable,  and  possibly  under 
the  observation  of  strange  and  uncouth  men.  But 
the  child  Jesus  was  not  a  year  old  before  He  be- 
came the  object  of  jealousy  and  persecution,  and 
had  to  be  taken  on  a  long  and  painful  journey  into 
a  foreign  land  to  save  His  life — a  baby  fugitive  on 
the  face  of  the  earth.  Showing  at  the  age  of 
twelve  a  wisdom  which  astonished  the  wisest  men 
of  the  nation,  and  which  would  have  secured  for 
Him  recognition,  position,  power,  and  renown.  He 
yet  willingly  returned  to  the  obscure  and  humble 
home  at  Nazareth  ;  and  there  for  the  space  of  nearly 
twenty  years  He  submitted  Himself,  day  after  day, 
to  the  control  of  two  plain  peasant  people,  and  to 
the  occupation  and  drudgeiy  of  common  manual 
labour. 

3.  Humiliations  of  the  Messianic  ministry.— \\q 
knew  from  the  beginning  what  the  Messianic 
mission  meant  and  how  it  would  end.  It  wjis  not 
to  Him  an  honour  to  be  enjoyed  ;  it  was  a  Imrden 
to  be  borne.    It  cost  Him  a  struggle  to  submit  and 


adjust  Himself  to  that  Mhich  He  knew  -ttivs  so 
fraught  with  diiiic  ulty,  jier-erution,  humiliation, 
loneliness,  suspense,  an. I  sulieiing,  ending  with  the 
linal  agonies  and  the  ilealU  of  abandonment  and 
shame.  This  is  the  reason  why  He  needed — and 
received — the  expression  of  His  Father's  approval 
at  the  moment  of  His  self-dedication  to  the  work  of 
Messiah  (Mk  1",  Lk  3^).  This  was  the  meaning  of 
His  temptation  in  the  wilderness.  This  was  why  at 
the  sharp  turning-point  in  His  ministry,  when  He 
looked  out  on  the  dark  and  lonely  way  of  obedi- 
ence unto  death  and  deliberately  chose  to  walk  in 
it  alone.  He  needed  again — and  again  received — 
the  assurance  of  His  Father's  recognition,  approval, 
and  sympathy  (Mk  9',  Lk  ^).*  It  was  the  burden 
of  the  ^lessianic  task  that  made  Him,  beyond  all 
men,  a  man  of  sorrows.  More  than  once  we  are 
told  that  He  wept ;  but  never  that  He  laughed. 
Almost  from  the  beginning  of  His  ministry  He 
\\  as  looked  on  with  jealousy  and  suspicion  by  the 
p|J^^ eilul  leaders  of  the  people,  from  whom  He  had 
a  li-lit  til  expect  encouragement  and  supjiort. 
They  k'-yi  a  vatch  on  Him,  they  found  fault  with 
Him,  they  misconstrued  His  actions,  they  per- 
verted His  sayings,  they  dogged  His  steps,  tliey 
nagged  Him  at  every  turn,  they  accused  Him  of 
being  a  law-breaker,  a  blasphemer,  an  imjMstor, 
a  lunatic,  a  demoniac,  an  emissary  of  the  powers 
of  darkness  (Lk  W').  They  laid  plots  to  catch 
Him  and  to  kill  Him  ;  and  they  never  ceased  until 
they  succeeded.  Not  only  so,  but  little  by  little 
He  lost  His  early  popularity  and  was  abandoned 
by  the  people.  He  came  to  those  whom  He  had  the 
ri^'ht  to  claim  as  His  own  ;  they  refused  to  receive 
Him,  turned  against  Him.  His  personal  ministry 
was  comparatively  a  failure,  and  He  practically  an 
outcast.  He  did  not  even  have  a  refuge  among 
the  friends  of  His  youth,  the  people  of  His  old 
home  at  Nazareth.  They  also  turned  agarinst  Him, 
rejected  His  claims,  drove  Him  out  of  their  village, 
made  a  desperate  attempt  to  kill  Him  (Mk  6',  Lk 
4-8).  The  members  of  His  own  family  failed  to 
understand  Him,  refused  to  accept  Him,  were 
alienated  from  Him  (Jn  7*).  Probably  they 
thought  Him  either  a  fanatic  or  a  frauiL  Pro- 
bably on  account  of  His  strangeness  and  growing 
unpopularity  they  were  ashamed  of  Him.  He  w;i.s 
subjected  to  the  humiliation  and  pain  of  constant 
misunderstanding  and  sometimes  even  criticism  on 
He  was  rebukeil 
one  of  them,  sold 
and  delivered  into  the  hands  of  His  enemies  and 
murderers  for  a  few  pounds  by  another  (26"-'°), 
deserted  by  all  (Mt  26=*,  Mk  14»").  Added  to  these 
things,  He  sufi'ered  the  humiliations  of  a  painful 
poverty.  Rejected  at  home,  ejected  from  home. 
He  had  no  place  of  His  very  o^vn  where  He  could 
feel  that  He  might  retire  when  weary  or  lonely  or 
heart-sore,  and  enjoy  rest  w-ithout  the  fear  of 
intrusion  or  molestation.  He  was  dependent  on 
charity,  He  was  supported  by  charity  (Lk  8').  He 
had  to  borrow  a  room  for  His  last  meal  with  His 
disciples  (22").  He  had  to  borrow  an  ass  to  ride 
into  Jerusalem  on  the  day  of  His  triumphal  entry 
(11)33.34)  Another  man's  stuble  was  borrowed  for 
Him  to  be  bom  in  (2') ;  another  man's  grave  for 
Him  to  be  buried  in  (Mt  27'»-  ^). 

i.  Trials  and  crucifixion.  —  His  implacable 
enemies  brought  Him  at  last  to  bay.  Deep  in 
that  memorable  night  when  He  was  in  the  depths 
of  the  impenetrable  gloom  of  Gethsemane,  the 
.s.acred   privacy  of  His  last  hours   and   His   last 

f)rayer  was  invaded  by  n  howling  mob  of  under- 
ings,  hangers-on,  .-ind  s.iMiers  of  the  temple  guard, 
guided  by  one  of  \\\-  ..wii  .li~eiples  (Mt  26-",  Lk 
22-").     They  took  .le-w-,  .m,!  ^^llen  they  had  bound 

li.'   l;iiiti~iii.   (Ill'  Temptation,  and  the 
presuut  wriUT'b  6on  0/  Man, 


the  part  of  His  own  disciples. 
(Mt  16=^)  and  denied  (26S'-'-')  by . 


•  See  chapters 


HUMILIATION  OF  CHRIST 


HUMILITY 


Him  witli  ropes  (Jn  IS'-),  they  led  tiim  by  the 
halter,  as  if  He  were  a  desperado,  to  the  house  of 
tlie  high  priest.  He  had  a  keen  sense  of  this 
humiliation,  and  protested  against  it  (iMk  14'"'). 
Nevertheless,  conscious  though  He  was  of  His 
!  of  any  evil  deed  or  design,  of  His  abso- 


lute purity,  yea,  even  of  His  Divine  dignity  : 
■    ■    1,  He  ■       " 


le  submitted  to  the  humiliation  of  being 
put  on  trial  before  the  corrupt  and  conscienceless 
occupant  of  the  high-priestly  office  and  the  white- 
washed hypocrites  who,  for  the  most  part,  consti- 
tuted the  governing  body  of  tlie  nation.  After  the 
solemn  mockery  was  enacted  and  they  had  con- 
demned Him  to  death  (14''^),  they  heaped  on  Him 
the  most  humiliating  insults  their  malicious  in- 
genuity could  devise.  They  spat  in  His  face 
{ivi'n-TUffar  eis  rb  Trpoauiirov  airoO,  Mt  26"') ;  they 
threw  a  cloth  over  Him  and  then  beat  Him  on  the 
head,  mockingly  demanding  that  He  should  tell 
them  who  it  was  that  struck  each  blow  (26"'-''*). 
When  it  was  morning,  they  bound  Him  again 
with  ropes,  and  led  Him  thus  to  the  Pra'torium  to 
secure  sentence  of  death  from  the  Roman  Pro- 
curator (Mk  15\  Mt  27^).  Pilate,  though  con- 
vinced of  His  inno(-enic,  ilid  iml  care  to  involve 
himself  in  the  truulil.'  mii.1  .niii.iy:Mi.  e  of  taking 
His  jiart,  ami  lie  was  ;4l,iil  In  .-.liirk  his  duty  and 
get  rid  of  the  eraliarriissnH'iit  l>y  turning  Him  over 
to  Herod  Antipas,  who  was  at  that  time  in  Jeru- 
salem (Lk  23').  The  poor  prisoner,  whom  no  one 
was  found  to  befriend  or  defend,   was  drag 


of  findiim  sm >iic  w 

the  p(.^^r,■  I,,  ri.l  !!„■ 
tosuil'i-i-  llie  liuinili:d 
before  this  abaiuloiu 
lighted  to  come  face 


thecouraoeaswellas 
of  Him,  and  He  had 
i|i]ii!aring  as  a  culin'it 
rh.       llrrod    was   de- 


at  last  he  was  to  have  the  l(.ii:^-r(i\  I'lcJ  (i|.|hii  (unity 
of  having  Him  show  oil'  with  .i  irw  mirarles  in  his 
presence.    But,  though  he  plied  Him  \\  ith  all  sorts 

„c i._  g^jjjj  iniportuniti( 

de  word.      But  Herod 


of  reque.sts  and  importunities,  Jesus  answered  hii 
not  a  single  word, 
baulked.  If  he  could  not  induce  Jesus  to  enter- 
tain him  in  one  way,  he  could  at  least  force  Him 
to  furnish  entertainment  for  him  in  another  way. 
And  this  Herod,  this  creature  of  low  cunning,  this 
unwashed  hog  of  a  sensualist,  this  seducer  of  his 
own  brother's  wife,  this  cowardly  murderer  of  the 
other  of  the  two  great  prophets  of  the  day,  grati- 
lied  his  brutal  instincts  by  joining  his  soldiers  in 
putting  Jesus  to  scorn.  They  dressed  Him  up  in  a 
gorgeous  and  ;4Lnin-  red  UKi'iitlc  nf  mock  royalty, 
and  scut  Iliiu  tliu^  IliK.uiih  the  slr.'ets  back  to 
the  Pra-loi-iiiiii  of  I'il.'ilc  (■_'.".■"''].  i'ilate,  overcome 
by  the  p.TMslrii.c  of  tl„.  .Ic«isl,  loaders  .and  by 
his  own  selfish  and  cowardly  ir:iv-.  .l.Mi,li.(l  at  last 

to  deliver  Jesus  up  to  the'tcii'loi    rrjos  of  the 

human  bloodhounds  who  could  Ijo  aiiiic  a-.d  l)y 
nothing  but  His  death.  But  bofoiu  doing  so,  he 
made  his  soldiers  strij)  Him  and  inflict  on  Him  the 
terrible  Roman  flagellation  (Mk  15'=,  Mt  27-"),  a 
punishment  so  severe  that  the  victim  often  died 
under  it.  This  bitter  torture  and  bitterer  humilia- 
tion Jesus  endun-d  in  sulmiisvion  and  silence. 
While  theprepaialiou  is  l.eiim  i":ole  foi'  tlio  eruei- 
lixion,  He  is  left  in  (lie  liands  of  the  soldiers, 
the  whole  coliort  is  invited  in  to  enjoy  the  sport, 
and  now  for  the  third  time  He  is  made'the  amuse- 
ment of  a  band  of  ruffians,  for  it  is  now  their 
turn  to  have  a  little  entertainment  with  the 
Nazarene  fanatic.  They  torment  Ilini  as  a  cat 
teases  and  tortures  a  wonmled  hird  hiMore  devcui- 
ingit.  They  puf  on  Him  a  seariel  n.ilil  iiry  rol.r. 
and  h.aving  twisted  hianeliesof  thorn  hushi's  inio 
a  sort  of  crown,  they  place  it  on  11  is  ]iatient 
brow,  put  a  mock  sceptre  in  His  unresisting  hand, 
and  then  go  down  on  their  knees  before  Him, 
shouting,    '  Long  live   the   king    of    the   Jews  ! ' 


They  too  indulged  in  the  sport  of  spitting  on  Him, 
and,  yielding  to  the  wild  beast  instinct  which 
their  op]iortunity  had  aroused  in  them,  they  kept 
lieating  Him  o\'er  the  head  {ImrTov  eh  ttjh  K«(>a\r]v 
aiiToO,  Sit  27""  ;  eTvirTOf  airrov  rriv  Ke(pa\Tii>  KaXd/Uifj,  Mk 
15'").  While  He  was  dressed  up  as  a  mock  king, 
His  face  stained  with  blood  and  marred  with  spittle, 
Pilate,  moved  with  pity,  led  "Him  out  to  the  view 
of  the_  clamorous  mob,  hoping  that  the  spectacle  of 
so  abject  an  object  might  move  them  to  pity  (Jn 
19^-  ^).  But  it  seemed  the  more  to  inflame  their  rage 
(v.").  His  crucifixion  was  then  finally  decided  on. 
And  now  a  new  humiliation  was  inflicted  on  Him. 
He  leaves  the  Prastorium,  and  is  led  or  driven 
along  the  crowded  streets  through  the  avenue  of 
onlookers,  bearing  on  His  back  the  heavy  wooden 
beam  that  was  to  be  the  instrument  of  His  execu- 
tion (v.").  It  was  the  symbol  of  His  degradation 
and  the  advertisement  of  His  disgaace. 

It  may  be  well  for  us  to  stop  and  try  to 
imagine  what  was  passing  in  the  mind  of  Jesus 
while  all  these  horrors  were  heaped  upon  Him. 
We  know  He  was  accustomed,  during  the  course 
of  His  ministry,  to  dwell,  both  in  thought  and  in 
speech,  on  the  horrors  that  He  knew  awaited  Him 
(Mt  16-1  iixi  dd  avTbv  .  .  .  TToXXct  -rraBuv).  If  He  so 
dreaded  it  from  afar,  how  keen  must  have  been  the 
anguish  of  passine  through  it ! 

But  these  thin-s  were  slight  in  coniiiarison  with 
what  yet  awaited  Him  :  for  (he  -reat  humiliation 
was  yet  to  come.  \\i-  wns  to  he  snl)je<ted  to  the 
accursed  and  infamous  death  tii  <  rueiiixion.  When 
soldiers  are  to  be  put  to  death  fur  desertion  or 
treason,  they  are  shot.  The  lowest  of  criminals, 
those  upon  whom  we  wish  to  heap  disgrace  in 
inflicting  death,  we  hang  on  the  gallows.  What 
the  gallows  is  to-day,  the  cross  was  in  the  days  of 
Jesus.  It  was  the  method  of  execution  that 
.seoiu'ed  publicity,  wdiile  it  insured  the  utmost 
prolongation  of  the  victim's  misery.  When  the 
procession  had  reached  the  jJace,  the  cross  was 
laid  upon  the  ground,  Jesus  was  denuded  of  all 
His  clothing,  He  ^^  as  stretched  out  upon  the  cross, 
long  iron  nails  were  driven  through  His  hands  and 
feet,  the  cross  bearing  His  naked  body  was  lifted 
up  and  dropped  into  its  socket,  and  there,  looking 
out  on  the  sea  of  angry  faces  and  suffering  the 
infamous  fa(e  of  Hie  most,  abandoned  criminal, 
hung.lesu-,  who,  (houeh  llelij.l  I  he  ( .ms.'iou.sness 

Son  of  (lo.l,  yet  willin-ly  en.liii  o, 
that  He  might  become  tie-  lo 
Wherefore  all  the  ages  ami  the 
races  of  men  have  united  with  i : 
the  name  that  is  above  e\ery  na 
accord  agree  in  crowning  Him  l.o 
The  descending  scale'  of  Ills  li 
the  estate  of  conscious  ci|u;ility 
grades  and  levels  dowm  to  the  humiliation  of  the 
cross,  has  been  grasped  and,  with  a  few  master 
strokes,  graphically  portrayed  by  St.  Paul  in  the 
gi'eat  passage  of  Ph  2"- ' :  the  humiliation  of  the 
Divine  to  the  level  of  the  human,  the  Immili.ation 
of  the  human  to  the  level  of  the  -ei\anl,  to  the 
level  of  the  outcast  and  condemneil  .liminal,  and, 
lastly,  to  the  degrad.alion  of  a  puni-limc-nt  the 
most  humiliating,  the  most  shameful,  the  most 
bitter,  tlie  most  revolting,  the  most  horrible  then 
or  ever  known  among  men. 


HUMIUTY.-Tliis 


liation 

men. 

all  the 

g  Him 


niliation,  from 
th  God  past  all 


758 


HUMILITY 


HUJIILITY 


the  leaders  of  OT  history  like  Abraham  and  Moses 
(Gn  18",  Nu  12'),  and  was  inculcated  by  the 
prophets  as  a  chief  duty  (^lic  6*).  It  belongs  even 
to  the  earlier  revelation  of  God's  character  (' that 
humbleth  himself,'  Ps  113"),  and  is  the  key  to 
man's  communion  with  Him  (Is  57").  In  Judaism 
and  the  Rabbinical  literature  we  meet  with  a 
variety  of  examples  and  maxims  enforcing  the 
truth  that  '  God  is  the  highest  type  of  humility. ' 
These  anticipations  prepare  us  for  the  new  and 
enlarged  conception  of  humility  which  tills  the 
NT,  and  was  embodied  in  the  teaching,  example, 
and  character  of  Jesus  Christ.  The  moral  quality 
of  our  Saviour's  personality  lies  here  (Mt  11-'^),  and 
on  this  foundation  of  astonishing  humility,  ex- 
emplified on  the  cross,  St.  Paul  bases  his  great 
ethical  appeal  (Ph  2'"'').  It  may  be  claimed  that 
the  gospel  alone  has  popularized  humility,  but 
the  temper  of  Christ's  disciples  in  every  age  proves 
tliat  it  is  an  excellence  of  rare  and  difficult  attain- 
ment. 

i.  Use  and  meaning  of  the  word.— The  noun 
(Taireivocppoaw-n,  Heb.  ."luj;,  Vulg.  humilitas.  Germ. 
JJcnint)  does  not  occur  till  it  is  employed  commonly 
in  the  NT  (Lightfoot  on  Ph  2') ;  it  is  '  a  birth  of 
the  Gospel '  (Trench,  Syn.  of  the  NT,  §  42).  In  con- 
trast to  the  low  and  servile  sense  attaching  to  it 
in  classical  ■svritings,  humility  in  the  LXX,  Apocr., 
and  NT  becomes  the  designation  'of  the  noblest 
and  most  necessary  of  all  virtues'  (Cremer's  Lex.). 
It  rests  on  a  lowly  and  unpretending  view  of  one's 
self,  and  is  opposed  to  the  workings  of  the  am- 
bitious spirit  (niyaKocppoavvrj,  i'\{,ri\o(ppoavvri).  The 
term  refers  mainly  to  inward  (■liiuattcT,  and  some- 
times to  outward  concliticni.  (_)t  liumility  as  the 
animating  principle  of  Cliristiaii  character,  Jesus 
Himself  was  the  gi-eat  example,  being  '  lowly  in 
heart'  (Mt  11=»),  not  merely  in  appearance  'like 
the  professional  religious  leaders  of  the  time. 
Pharisaism  is  the  deadly  enemy  of  humility  or  the 
religion  of  healthy-mindedness.  The  moral  temper 
that  inspired  Cluist's  life  and  service  is  echoed  by 
St.  Paul,  when  he  singles  out  the  motive  that 
prompted  his  labours  ('serving  the  Lord  with  all 
lowliness  of  mind,'  Ac  20"^).  Elsewhere  humility 
is  enjoined,  along  with  kindred  graces,  as  the 
means  of  averting  unholy  disputes  and  of  promot- 
ing co-operation  in  the  Church  and  among  the 
members  of  the  Christian  society  (Mt  IS''  23'-, 
Eph  i\  Ph  23,  Col  3'2).  An  exceptional  use  of  the 
terra  occurs  in  Col  2'8-  ^,  where  the  Apostle  guards 
his  readers  against  the  counterfeit  of  this  virtue 
('  a  voluntary  humility  ').  In  some  instances  the 
luimble  are  viewed  in  the  light  of  their  earthly 
condition,  which  God  may  wonderfully  raise  and 
alter  (Lk  1=-),  and  which,  notwithstanding  its 
indignities  and  trials,  should  be  borne  submissively 
and  cheerfully  (Ja  P).  This  class  of  sufferers  cor- 
responds to  the  afflicted  and  meek  of  the  OT  ("Ji;, 
a]!,),  and  would  be  numerous  amon"  the  peasantry 
or  fellahin  of  an  oppressed  and  lawless  country 
(Hatcli,  Esinus  hi  liiblical  Greek,  s.v.).  The  '  poor 
in  spirit '  spoken  of  in  the  first  of  the  Beatitudes 
(Mt  5',  cf.  Lk  6^)  are  probably  best  understood  as 
placed  in  such  circumstances.  In  agreement  with 
this,  Ritschl  {op.  cit.  infra)  defines  Taireivoippoaivri 
as  'that  temper  inclining  to  the  service  of  God 
which  accepts  resignedly  an  oppressed  and  wretched 
condition.'  The  term,  therefore,  as  one  of  deep 
imiiort,  is  freslily  coined  in  the  NT. 

ii.  Contrast  between  Greek  and  Christian 
Ethics.— The  rise  of  this  gi-ace  creates  an  epoch. 
'Humility  is  a  vice  with  heathen  moralists,  but 
a  virtue  ^^^th  Christian  apostles'  (Lightfnot  on 
Col  2'*).  In  particular,  it  m.arks  the  np]in-iti..n  (,, 
the  Greek  idea  of  '  high-minilr.liir~~'  ijii,  '  Ij  hi.  -.' 
by  H.  Sidgwick  in  Enn/.  l',riiy\.  an. I  llir'  .i.lv.in..- 
in  ethical  sentiment  aijcl  the  stHii.laicI  ot  judLHucnt 


due  to  Christianity.  A  presentiment  of  the  Chris- 
tian virtue  may  be  met  with  in  Greek  writers  (see 
examples  in  Neander's  Church  History,  vol.  i.  p.  26 
[Eng.  tr.],  and  in  Trench,  NT  Syn.),  but  their  use 
of  TaTTfii'ds  in  any  noble  sense  is  rare.  The  Greeks 
undoubtedly  had  their  distinguishing  qualities,  but 
this  was  not  one  of  them. 

Cf.  interesting  note  of  conversation  in  Morley'fi  Life  of  Glad- 
statu,  iii.  p.  466.  'Mr.  G.— I  admit  there  is  no  Greek  word  of 
L'ood  credit  for  the  virtue  of  humility.  J.  Jl. — r«it.>oTi;;?  But 
that  has  an  association  of  meanness,  llr.  G.— Yes ;  a  shabby 
sort  of  humilitj'.  Humility  as  a  sovereiifn  grace  is  the  creation 
of  Christianity.' 

Greek  Ethics,  as  expressed  and  systematized  by 
Aristotle,  the  ancient  master  of  moral  analysis 
and  definition,  fostered  pride,  the  genius  of  later 
Stoicism,  and  regarded  the  humble  as  contempt- 
ible, mean-si^irited,  and  without  force  or  aspira- 
tion. Aristotle's  picture  of  the  '  great-souled '  man 
and  his  exaggerated  sense  of  self-importance  have 
a  certain  air  of  loftiness  {iieyaKofvxla.),  but  fall 
below  the  standard  which  obliges  the  Christian  to 
recognize  his  duty  to  others,  and  to  treat  with 
consideration  those  who  are  intellectually  and 
socially  inferior.  The  conception  of  humility, 
therefore,  as  it  controls  the  Christian,  lies  outside 
the  system  of  Aristotle  (see  Nic.  Eth.  bk.  iv.  ch.  3 
[Sir  A.  Grant's  ed.  vol.  ii.  pp.  72-78]).  This  diiler- 
ence  between  Greek  and  Christian  ideas  of  greatnes-s 
and  humility  i>  fiiii.laiuental,  and  the  change  was 
brought  uliniit  l.y  I'Uii-t's  revelation  of  the  char- 
acter of  Guil.  1 11  Aii-totlc's  great-.souled  man  it  is 
said — 'his  uiiivriiirnts  :ire  slow,  his  voice  is  deep, 
and  his  diction  stately  '  (Grant,  vol.  ii.  p.  77,  note). 
This  measured  efflorescence  of  pride  reappears  in 
Christ's  portraiture  of  the  Pharisee  in  the  temple  ; 
but  the  Publican,  the  opposite  and  acceptable  type, 
shows  how  influential,  in  Christian  experience,  is 
the  thought  of  God,  and  how  closely  connected  are 
liumUity,  prayer,  and  confession  of  sin.  In  accord- 
ance with  Augustine's  well-known  saying  (quoted 
by  Calvin,  Institutio,  bk.  ii.  ch.  2),  humility  comes 
first,  second,  third,  and  always,  among  the  precepts 
of  the  Christian  religion,  and  it  marks  the  cleavage 
between  Greek  and  Christian  ideals.  The  magnifi- 
cent figure  drawn  by  the  Greek  philosopher  dis- 
appears, and,  instead,  Christ  presents  the  image  of 
the  little  child  (Mt  1S=). 

iii.  Our  Lord's  example  and  teaching.— 1. 
The  great  saying  which  goes  to  the  root  of  the 
matter — '  I  am  meek  and  lowly  in  heart '  (Mt 
11^),  has  been  variously  interpreted  (see  art.  by 
Herrmann,  mentioned  below),  and  even  called  in 
question  as  authentic.  Martineau  asks — '  What 
meek  and  lowly  soul  was  ever  known  to  set  itself 
forth  as  .such  and  commend  its  own  humility  as 
the  model  for  others?'  and  adds,  'did  a  Saviour 
bear  such  testimony  of  himself,  his  testimony 
would  not  be  true'  {Seat  of  Authority  in  Iteligion'-, 
p.  583).  But  the  mode  of  speaking  Christ  adopted 
and  the  claim  He  put  forwitrd  would  not  really 
seem  incongruous  in  a  '  Teacher  of  Israel '  (Bruce, 
Expos.  Gr.  Test,  note  ad  he);  and,  besides,  the 
objection  reads  a  false  tone  into  the  original  utter- 
ance, and  ignores  the  special  nature  of  Christ's 
consciousness.  Our  Lord  was  more  than  a  '  meek 
and  lowly  soul,'  and  had  rea.son  for  presenting 
Himself  as  a  model  and  a  winning  type  to  human- 
ity. His  humility  clothed  and  concealed  His 
essential  dignity,  and  in  speaking  as  He  did  He 
was  conscious  at  the  same  time  of  standing  in  a 
unique  rcl;ition  to  G.ul  (Mt  i]^.  cf.  Jn  V.i"). 
Indeed,  tlir  ninnn  on  Cliri-r-  i.:n1  of  •hii1.uuiuI.mI 
personal  (.ivi.^n-Mn-  '  x\  n  li  .'iii  uii.'..ii-.'i..u-  liumililv 
that  reg.'ir.l.-.l  lli~  iiii|...rl,.n..-  i.,  the  w..rl.l  a>  'an 
..bj.Mtiv,.  fact  with  wlucli  Ins  own  opiiiiui.  of  hiiii- 
-.If  hail  nothing  to  do'  {Erce  Homo,  ch.  15)  is 
nii.l.iii.ilile,  ,aml  reminds  us  that  maje.sty  and 
riickni'ss  were  the  two  poles  of  His  mysterious 


HUMILITY 


HUMILITY 


759 


yet  harmonious  character.  Clirist's  humility,  how- 
ever, does  not  rest  on  a  phrase,  but  was  carried 
out  in  the  lowly  setting  of  His  earthly  life.  His 
cradle  in  the  manger  at  Bethlehem  and  His  sub- 
jection in  the  home  at  Nazareth,  His  quiet  entrance, 
at  the  hands  of  tlie  Baptist,  on  public  life,  His 
restraint  in  the  use  of  His  supernatural  powers, 
and  His  dislike  of  consequent  honour  and  fame. 
His  frequent  periods  of  retirement,  His  choice  of 
followers  and  friends,  His  syininitliii's  with  little 
children  and  humble  s,i|.iili.iiils  (Mk  lO'^"'"  and 
T»-^),  His  appreciation  ct  (he  smallest  ottering 
and  the  simplest  service  (Lk  2l'\  Mt  10'''-),  and, 
finally.  His  submission  to  the  experiences  concen- 
trated in  the  week  of  His  Passion  and  Crucihxion, 
all  attest  the  consistency  of  His  cliaracter  as  One 
who  was  'meek  and  lowly  in  heart,'  and  who,  at 
every  step  of  His  career,  plainly  and  profoundly 
'humbled  himself  (Ph  2*). 

2.  Passing  from  Christ's  example,  the  main  lines 
of  His  teaching  are  two — 

(1)  Hmnility  in  rclcdion  to  God,  or  the  Law  of 
Grace. — We  are  introduced  here  to  the  most 
powerful  among  the  motives  to  humility,  and  to 
a  relation  deeper  than  any  that  influences  us  in 
the  society  of  our  fellow-men.  In  Wendt's  lan- 
guage— '  Humility  Is  the  conscious  lowliness  we 
feel  before  God  in  view  of  His  superabundant  love 
and  holy  majesty,  and  in  contrast  to  our  own  un- 
worthiness,  guilt,  and  entire  dependence  on  His 
grace'  (The  'feachin/;  of  Jesus,  vol.  i.  p.  341,  note 
[Eng.  tr.]).  We  cannot  therefore  exaggerate  our 
worth  or  assert  our  claims  before  God  :  the  part 
we  play  is  that  of  'unprofitable  servants'  who, 
after  all  their  performances,  should  be  filled  neither 
with  the  sense  of  merit  nor  the  spirit  of  boasting 
(Lk  17'°).  In  the  parable,  which  is  a  gem  of  teach- 
ing on  this  point,  Jesus  enforces  on  us  the  duty  of 
humility  towards  God,  the  need  of  genuine  self- 
abasement  and  confession  of  sin,  as  we  see  and 
feel  our  unworthiness  in  the  Divine  presence  (Lk 
IS'-*-").  He  represents  God  as  turning  away  from 
the  shallow  and  sounding  worils  of  tlie  Pharisee, 
but  giving  His  mercy  freely  to  the  penitent  publican 
who  could  not  look  up.  For,  as  .i  line  .Ie\vi>Ii  say 
ing  i5Uts  it,  'While  God  despises  wb.-it  is  lnoken 
among  the  animals.  He  loves  in  man  a  lircjken 
heart.'  This  is  a  fundamental  law  of  tlie  Kingdom 
of  heaven  and  the  indispensable  condition  of  grace  : 
'for  every  one  that  exalteth  himself  shall  be 
humbled,  but  he  that  humbleth  himself  shall  be 
exalted  '  (cf.  Pr  3**,  1  P  5=). 


— that  which  bows  and  that  which  soars,  the  huiniliti'  of  a 
servant  who  loolis  down,  the  humilitv  of  a  son  wlio  gazes  up. 
Milton's  humility  invigorates  itself  in  the  effort  to  ascend.  He 
would  not  prostrate  hnnself  in  the  presence  of  material  symbols, 
but  would  enter  as  a  Rlad  child  into  the  courts  of  lieaven ' 
(Puritan  and  Anglican,  p.  167).  This  is  the  humility  that 
Christ  welcomes,  and  that  makes  religion  not  stiff  and  heavy 
with  ceremonial,  but  simple,  reverent,  glad,  and  pleasing  to  God. 
On  no  other  terms  is  grace  given  or  fellowshij)  with  God  possible. 
'  Whosoever  shall  not  receive  the  kingdom  of  God  as  a  little  child, 
he  shall  in  nowise  enter  therein  '  (Lk  ISi"). 

(2)  Humility  in  rehitin,,  t,,  „irii,  or  the  Law  of 
&ri«c<;.— While  it  is  true  tli.it  liuniility  'is  not 
primarily  concerned  witli  our  ivlaliuii  to  other 
men,  Init  with  our  lel.-ition  li,  (;..(l..-ui(l  springs 
from  an  inti'lleelu.-illv  true  \iew  ,.1  tii.il  rel.-uiun' 
(Illingwnitli,  <■/,,■; ■./,'.>„  f/,.n;o/rr.  I'.lii.-,,  ,,.  liTl, 
yet  its  importance  in  re-ul;iting  men's  or.lin.-iiy 
conduct  and  intercourse  did  not  esoajie  Christ's 
notice.  His  striking  lessons  on  this  subject  were 
called  for  at  the  time,  and  are  far  from  being  ex- 
hausted, for  it  is  still  true  that  'the  really  humble 
man  is  .-i  jicii  m  ih,.  nuir.'il  world  as  he  is  rare' 
(Bruee,  /  ,,       /,   /.  ,„,  Mt  18^). 

(a)    //  '    '        I inniiiriiiiis  inne  of  humility 

(Mt   l.s'  '_.    Mk   !i       ,.     Tliis   was   Christ's  object- 


lesson  on  the  question  that  caused  frequent  lieart- 
burning  among  the  di.sciples,  'Who  then  is  greatest  2' 
etc.  Their  assimilation  of  their  Master's  mind 
proceeiled  slow  ly.  As  He  went  on  absorbed  in  the 
thought  of  His  approaching  cross,  His  followers 
walked  behind  and  stirred  each  other's  worst 
passions  by  raising  questions  of  place  and  pre- 
cedence. At  their  next  interview  the  Master  of 
men  set  a  child  in  the  midst  of  His  disciples,  and 
shamed  them  out  of  their  unworthy  temper.  This 
is  our  Lord's  rebuke  of  pride,  rivalry,  and  ambition 
in  their  thousand  forms,  His  reversal  of  our  ordin- 
ary and  .selfish  ideas  of  greatness,  and  His  warning 
against  the  woiM's  spirit  of  e.\rlusivi  ness,  intoler- 
ance, and  class  (lislinctions.  'I'lie  truly  L:reat  is  he 
who  considers  the  claims  of  others  and  is  slow  to 
give  ofi'ence  (Mt  IS''),  and  who  on  all  o(  <asions 
appears  simple,  teachable,  unprelending.  in.lilleient 
to  questions  of  rank  and  superi.uily,  ami  willing 
to  humble  himself  'as  this  little  i  hil'il.'  ll  is  only 
the  childlike  heart  that  is  capal.le  of  lno«  ing  Goil 
(Mt  U^'^),  and  of  hnding  the  way  iuio  lli-  kingdom. 
This  image  has  stamped  itse'lf  on  tlie  mind  of 
Christendom,  and  this  pattern  of  greatne>s  is  still 
fresh.  Human  character  is  once  for  all  taught  to 
mould  itself  after  this  original  and  lovely  type. 
Christ  first  saw  the  hatefulnes.s  and  unworkable- 
ne.ss  of  a  world  without  a  child  ! 

(/,)    nr.^.rnn,/.  t  l,r  ,,n,rl  „'„l  ,.,■„  „i  pi,-  nfhnnility 

This  ideal  of  se'rvi..'  was  pre.sente.l  ,,i'i  two  distinct 
ucca.sions  :  the  one  when  the  .suu.s  of  Zuhcdce  came 
forward  witli  their  request  for  the  leading  places  in 
the  Kingdom  ;  and  the  other  when  the  same  love  of 
dignity,  and  the  jealous  exclusion  of  each  other's 
claims,  gave  rise  to  the  strife  that  marred  the  Last 
Supper.  In  rebuking  tin-  -pirit,  Christ  had  in 
view  not  merely  the  mi-laken  dudencies  of  His 
disciples,  who  were  alre.aily  liie.l  l.y  the  jiromise  of 
individual  'thrones'  (Lk  2'>')  de.ir  in  iIh-  Israelitish 
imagination,  but  also  the  popular  aiul  inev.iiling 
standards  of  the  time.  The  rulei  ,  oi  i  hr  ( I  entiles 
aimed  at  supremaej',  and,  in  the  e\ei.  i-e  ,,\  a  harsh 
mitlH.rity,  d,.lii;lite.l  to  -lord  il  oie,  iheui';  and 
e.|u;illy  llie  -ml.e-  and   rirni-ee-.  m  ili.  n    loudness 

for  places  :in.l   lilli--,  ol   li ui'.   roMieil    iulluence 

and  ri'eo.i;iiil  ion  ,as  the  'ure.-il  ones'  of  .lewish 
ndard  and  line 
Not  so  shall  it 
be  among  you. '  Henceforth,  greatness  lies  in  con- 
formity to  a  higher  tlian  the  heathen  or  Jewish 
type:  'but  who.soever  would  become  gieat  among 
you  shall  be  your  minister,'  etc.  The  principle  of 
this  law  is  not  imjiersonal,  but  personal  ;  the  seat 
of  authority  in  the  Christian  religion  and  in  Chris- 
tian morals  is  Christ :  '  even  as  the  Son  of  Man 
came,'  etc.  (Mt  2()-').  Fin.ally,  in  one  concrete  act, 
Christ  gave  an  illustration  of  the  great  principle 
He  enunciated,  when,  at  the  Passover  meal.  He 
rose  and  '  took  a  tow  el  and  girded  himself,'  and 
washed  the  disciples'  feet.  This  astonishing  inci- 
dent left  an  inett'aceable  impression  (1  P  5"),  and 
^varranted  the  literal  saying  :  '  I  am  in  the  midst 
of  you  as  he  that  serveth'  (Lk  22'-').  Such  an 
ideal  and  example  of  service  have  slowly  effected  a 
revolution  in  the  moral  sentiment  and  practice  of 
niankinil.  We  may  add,  if  Christ's  setting  forth 
of  the  ihild  was  evidence  of  His  originality  as  a 
te.ieher,  I  lie  substitution  of  the  servant  for  the 
rulei-  w.'is  ,■!  no  less  striking  proof  of  the  uniqueness 
of  Hi-  iii-i-lii  :nhl  methods. 

'It  is     I,.      Ill  -  v.-nients  of  Jesus  that  He  introduced 

into  till   ■.      11  I.  (1  of  greatness,  such  an  ideal  as  men 

had  nrv,  I  Ui ,.  I  .  I    111.  Smith,  The  Days  of  Bis  Flesh,  1905, 

p.  44i  If.  Il.riiiiiui,.  .11  ;irt.  below:  '  Im  NT  ist  ohne  Zweifel  der 
Eindruck  \\ieder;;f^i.lien  dass  Jesus  in  dieser  Beziehung  seinen 
Jiingern  etwas  vullij;  Neues  gegeben  hat '). 

Some  ideals  are  too  airy  and  remote  to  come  into 
touch    with   actual   experience  and   practice,   but 


rco 


HUMILITY 


HUMOUR 


Christ's  Law  of  Service  is  capable  of  daily  realiza- 
tion, and  is  Avithiu  the  reach  of  every  one.  It  is 
open  to  all  to  do  some  simple  deed  of  kindness, 
helpfulness,  and  self-denial,  and  no  action  inspired 
by  Christ-like  love  and  humility  will  pass  un- 
noticed or  unrewarded  by  the  gracious  Master  and 
great  Servant  of  all  (Mt  25*). 

iv.  Characteristics  and  Kelationships.— A 
few  further  points  of  general  and  practical  interest 
are  suggested  by  this  subject,  and  may  be  briefly 
touched  on. 

1.  Humility  and  charaeicr. — In  ordinary  experi- 
ence, humility  is  related  to  sin  and  penitence,  and 
marks  the  feeling  of  unworthiness  in  the  light  of 
the  illimitable  moral  ideal.  In  presence  of  the 
holy  revelation  of  the  Son  of  Gott,  conscience  be- 
comes sensitive,  and  the  sense  of  guilt,  as  in  the 
case  of  Peter  (Lk  5"),  weighs  men  dowTi.  '  This, 
however,  is  not  one  of  the  essential  conditions  of 
liuraility,  for  we  know  that  humility  was  also  an 
element  in  Christ's  character'  (Ritschl).  The 
greatness  of  the  Baptist  was  rooted  in  his  humility 
and  utter  freedom  from  jealousy  (Jn  3""°),  and 
this  grace  has  been  the  soil  and  safety  of  saints 
ever  since.  Keble  treated  others  with  a  '  humbling 
humility '  (Lock's  Life,  p.  233.  Cf .  MacE wen's  Life 
of  Cairns,  p.  600 :  '  The  first  personal  impression 
that  he  made  on  all  who  met  him  was  one  of 
wonder  at  his  humUity').  The  child,  to  which 
Christ  pointed,  represents  humility  as  part  of  the 
essence  and  permanence  of  Christian  character, 
and  remains  an  immortal  type,  preserving  the 
wonder  and  lil.ioin  (if  llic  moral  world. 

2.  Humililii  iiinl  I.iinli-'  il  rirtucs. — No  Christian 
grace  is  isoliile.l  i>i  ihrives  alone.  Humility  is 
'  part  of  a  grcaL  jiuiral  whole.  Instead  of  proscrib- 
ing, it  promotes  the  growth  of  virtues  unlike  yet 
not  unfriendly  to  itself  (Liddon  on  'Humility  and 
Action '  in  University  Sermons).  Thus  it  is  closely 
connected  with  Truth,  for  humility  or  confession 
that  does  not  rest  on  the  recognition  of  facts  is 
insincere  and  worthle.ss.  It  is  inspired  by  Love  ; 
ministering  love  appears  always  in  the  guise  of 
humUity.  Meekness  rvsl  ^  un  liiiiiiil it y  ;is  its  founda- 
tion (Trench),  and  l'','t:.„,>  ,.x|i,,-~.'s  along  with 
humility  the  practical  \iiin.'  <.i  \\i>-  Christian  re- 
ligion, especially  called  lor  ami  tcstud  in  the  world 
(Kitschl). 

3.  lliiinility  and  self-consciousness. — It  has  been 
the  tendency  of  certain  schools  of  theology  and 
jiiety  to  make  humility  the  result  of  self-contem- 
plation,  aiTived  at  by  the  soul's  reaction  upon 
itself.  This  gives  rise  to  artificial  and  extreme 
methods  of  discipline,  and  misses  the  healthy  ob- 
jectivity of  the  life  that  forirets  self  in  the  con- 
sideration ami  si-iviiv  ..f  i.lhrr^  i<>;-  llrniiiann's 
art.  for  vigurnii-.  .■!  ii  iri-m  .ii  iln-  icii.lcncy  and 
ideal  of  ascclinMn,  .lrii\c,[  iimih  Auju^iinc  and 
Bernard.  Cf.  ilaruaik's  IlUuni  of  hu,,m„.  [Eng. 
tr.],  vi.  p.  10,  note).  Humility  is  '  the  eye  which 
sees  everything  except  itself  (quoted  in  Ritschl). 
Work  and  the  school  of  life  are  the  best  discijiline 
of  humility,  ss  of  the  othnr  ^•irt^l•-. 

'  We  arc  lo  respect  our  1-      ■     ;    '    '  '      '-i    i        1 

r.ai»al>le,  hut  not.  niir  caiM     I  i  '  I 

to  lie  no  coniplurctit.  s.h  ...!.■,.  ji    :  |-( 

When  self  is  \ir;.,,  <l, •!     ,  •,  ■    i.,ti 


Ontheotli.  :  i 

and  the  dai  i  l  ■  i  m  i 
monies  that  lead  1..^ 
avoidc.l.  Christ  am 
all  needless  self-con 
(Mt  0'"-,  Col  L>--'.  I 
forms  of  worslii|.  lie 

'  4.    ]'h,m'}il,i'\<n,l 


lility 


(/////.— This  virtue  is 
"leet  of  manliness  or 


at  the  expense  of  loyalty  to  religious  and  moral 
principle  (Mt  10^^).  Christ  honours  the  spirit  of 
energy  and  enterprise  in  us,  and  blames  the  hiding 
of  our  talents  and  the  misuse  of  our  opportunities 
through  diffidence  or  cowardice  (Mt  So""'-).  The 
manly  and  energetic  character  of  the  centurion,  as 
shown  in  his  faith,  was  doubtless  as  pleasing  to 
Jesus  as  the  soldier's  reverence  and  humbleness  of 
address  (Lk  7").  Humility  or  the  fear  of  God 
should  banish  all  unworthy  fear.  Christ's  un- 
flinching exposure  of  the  scribes  and  Pharisees 
(Mt  23)  calls  us  to  be  courageous  in  adherence  to 
truth  and  righteousness,  and  in  view  of  evil  and 
opposition,  however  powerful.  It  was  a  wholesome 
saying  of  the  Rabbis :  '  The  disciple  of  the  wise 
should  have  sufficient  pride  to  stand  in  defence  of 
the  Law  lie  represents.'  Self-assertion  has  therefore 
its  legitimate  sphere,  and  the  '  salt '  of  individuality 
in  religion  and  in  society  should  in  nowise  be  lost. 
There  is  the  danger,  however,  of  exaggerating  our 
own  view  and  importance  :  '  it  always  needs  much 
grace  to  see  what  other  people  are,  and  to  keep  a 
sense  of  moral  proportion'  (Denney,  Expos.  Gr. 
Test,  on  Ro  12").  In  the  adaptation  of  the  Chris- 
tian Church  to  society,  and  to  reconcile  conflicting 
interests,  it  requires  humility  'to  adjust  men  in 
due  order  for  the  purposes  of  life '  (T.  B.  Strong's 
Christian  Ethics,  Bampton  Lect.  1895,  p.  127). 

5.  Hitmility  and  science. — Christ's  interview  with 
Nicodemus  teaches  that  the  assumption  of  know- 
ledge ('we  know,'  Jn  3^)  may  cover  only  ignorance 
and  confusion.  The  'wise  and  understanding' 
(Mt  11")  receive  no  new  light:  self-satisfied  pride 
and  prejudice  are  the  foes  of  spiritual  enlighten- 
ment and  intellectual  advance.  The  true  student 
and  investigator  of  nature  must  still  feel,  like 
Newton,  that,  notwithstanding  his  progress  and 
attainments,  the  great  ocean  of  truth  lies  undis- 
covered before  him.  Docility,  not  dogmatism,  is 
the  mark  of  the  inquirer,  and  the  means  of  intel- 
lectual development.  In  this  important  and  ever- 
clianging  region  of  science,  R.  H.  Hutton  has  well 
observed  that  humility  'means  the  docility  of 
learners  towards  a  teacher  infinitely  above  them,' 
and  that  it  requires  vdsdom  to  see  the  true  rela- 
tions between  ditt'erent  kinds  of  knowledge,  and 
to  keep  physical  kno^vledge  from  being  turned  to 
a  faUr  aiel  ihiii-croiis  use  in  the  sphere  of  moral 
tiMlh.      Ill  IV  :il-o  III.'  master  of  truth  and  know- 

I, .,!-(■  inn  I  l:ll^.■  ilii'  |il. f  a  servant,  and  illus- 

tralrliis  -i.iitm--   li\   his  humility — 'and  science 

ignorance  alike  to  help  othiT  mi'U  .ami  not  to  lord 
it  over  them'  (Essay  <>ii  '  'i'ln-  Humility  of  Sciemc' 
\n  Aspects  of  RcUgiviisiind  SiinitiJiiTlioiifiht,  UlUl). 
So  manifold  is  the  function  of  this  indispensable 
and  crowning  grace. 
T.iTKnATi'RE.— Be<:ides  worlrs  ntiove  named,  rjrimm-Thayer's 


siori   of    our   l-orrl');    Danle, 

Browning's  exquisite  little  poem,  'Humility' (^soMnrfo);  Kip- 
ling's .Recessional.  ^^'     '**     TJ  .  ".Fw*r 


W.  M.  Rankin. 


HUMOUR 


HUNGER 


761 


which  lets  a  man  see  what  Plato  calls  '  the  wliole 
tragedy  and  comedy  of  life'  {Philebus,  50 B) — the 
one  in  the  other,  comedy  in  tragedy,  tragedy  in 
comedy. 

The  Gospels  make  it  plain  that  the  environment 
of  Jesus  was  quite  a  normal  one.  He  had  lived 
among  men,  worked,  played,  and  talked  with  men 
from  infancy  to  manhood,  and  was  familiar  with 
the  language  of  men  and  with  their  habits  of  mind. 
Hence  it  may  be  noticed  that  in  speaking  to  men 
He  uses  the  language  of  reality  and  experience. 
His  words  are  stamped  as  His  o-\vn  by  their 
delicate  ease,  which  implies  sen.sibility  to  every 
real  aspect  of  the  matter  in  hand,  a  sense  of 
mastery  and  peace.  There  lay  a  broad  contrast  be- 
tween the  common  sense  His  hearers  had  gathered 
from  experience  and  tlic  wwxA  idi-als  which  He 
propounded,  and  it  is  ijuili'  clr.ir  th:il  (his  contrast 
did  not  escape  Him,  nur  can  lli  lia,v(.'  failed  to  see 
that,  judged  by  the  ordiiiuiv  cdimnon  sense  of  men, 
His  sayings  were  absurd.  VVith  this  consciousness 
of  the  superticial  absurdity  and  the  underlying 
value  of  what  He  said.  He  bade  men  when  smitten 
on  the  one  cheek  '  turn  the  other '  (Mt  5^),  go 
'  two  miles '  with  the  man  who  exacted  one  (v.'"), 
yield  the  cloak  to  him  who  took  the  coat  (v.'"'), — 
in  fact,  His  followers  were  asked  to  be  '  lambs,' 
missionaries  '  among  wolves '  (Mt  lO^",  Lk  10"),  and 
to  '  leap  for  joy '  when  they  were  ill  treated  (Lk  6-''). 
In  all  these  sayings  there  is  obvious  contradiction 
between  the  surface  value  and  the  thought  beneath. 

Again,  there  Ls  abundant  evidence  of  the  use  of 
the  grotesque  by  Jesus— a  use  natural  to  homely 
and  friendly  talk.  Would  a  father,  for  example, 
offer  a  hungry  chUd  a  stone  instead  of  bread,  a 
snake  instead  of  a  fish,  a  .scorpion  instead  of  an 
egg  (Mt  7"- '»,  Lk  11"- 12)  ?  The  Pharisee,  He  says, 
is  like  a  man  who  cleans  the  outside  of  his  c\ip  and 
forgets  that  he  drinks  from  the  inside  (Mt  23^). 
Do  men,  He  asks,  'gather  irrn]ies  of  thorns,  or  figs 
of  thistles'?  (Mt  7").  Up  m-.-,  \\U  lioarers  not  to 
cast  their  ' pearls  before  >\\iiH  '  (Mi  7'').  The  idea 
of  having  'a  beam  in  oth's  nwn  i  ye'  is  grotesque, 
as  He  meant  it  to  be  (Mt  7-"^).  \\  hen  He  bade  His 
hearers  take  no  care  for  tlie  ukutcjw,  because  caring 
for  the  morrow  was  the  distinguishing  mark  of  the 
Gentile  as  contrasted  with  tlie  Jew  (Mt  G''=),  He 
spoke  with  full  l^Il^^vl.■.l,-l■  ..f  . I, 'wish  .lianu-ter, 
and  must  ha\c  kniiwii  lli.il  His  lir.n.  ix  would 
smile.  'Doniil  r\.'n  lln' |.ulilic;in>  suV' i  Ml  ">'"),  is 
an  instance  of /-.(///f/fo  ,/ 
on  the  Saliliiilli  .I.in-  I. 
(Lk6''),  was,  llis,.,ii„s 
absuril  qncsthin,  i'\((|il, 
dilemma.  Siniil.nly,  [>> 
if  he  had  kejit  I  Im'  cniiiin 
kill,'  etc.,  nuisl  h.n  i-  si 
and  Jesus  can  lianlh  lia 
10'").  The  siiiiik'  Ihal 
the  needle's  eye,  show  s 
again  (Mk  lO'-'^).  It  sh 
Jesus'  hearers  were  nol 
teadiing  given  in  ironic 

There  is  humour  in  the  appeal  to  tlie  practice  of 
(he  Kgyjitians  and  Syrians  of  calling  their  tyrannic 
and  woi-thli'ss  rulers  Kiii-frfetcx,  'Benefactor'  (Lk 
'I'l^);  nnd  in  tlio  niaimiiianyini,'  suggestion  that 
the  real  rhirf  anam^  ClirisCs  l..ll,,«ers  is  'he  that 
doth  seiM  '  il.k  ■_'■_:  I,  llieiv  is  a  cDiiscious  reversal 
of  ordinary  n.iii..ns,  wliicli  would  make  the  hearers 
smile  even  while  they  realized  the  serious  mcaniii-. 
There  is  a  hint  of  playfulness  in  the  |ivonii-e  il,  ,i 
Peter  shall  'catch  men'  (Lk  5'").  The  iineiam 
put  to  the  rich  fool,  '  Then  whose  shall  ( 1  a .-,  1 1 ,  i  n ■ 
be?'  (Lk  ia»),  has  a  grim  toncli.  Uaae  i-  a  -n 
gestion  in  it  of  reckonings  -lieMnish-  widirj  ;  an.l 

something  of  the  kind  Im  Ls  ii,  i  he  lale  ,,(  i  lie  , 

who  built  his  hou.se  on  (he  sainl     a,  lale   lol.k   il 


ful 

1  or  to  do  good?' 
pot  would  feel,  an 
caught  them  in  a 
:  rich  young  ruler 
Is,  '  Thou  .shall  not 
'  onlo(d<er  as  odd, 
I   to  feel  this  (Mk 

of  the  camel  and 
■  to  (lie  grotesque 

lenieniliercd  that 
liar  with  religious 


must  be  remembered,  by  one  who  had  been  a 
rcKToiv  (Mt  7-'').  There  are  other  stories,  too,  of 
people  of  pretension  who  are  ludicrously  out  in 
their  reckonings,  e.ij.  tlie  king  who  went  to  war 
with  a  light  heart  (Lk  14"'),  and  the  man  who  could 
not  finish  his  tower  (v.^).  There  is  surely  grim 
humour  also  in  the  words,  '  It  cannot  be  that  a 
prophet  perish  o«<  of  Jerusalem'  (Lk  13""). 

In  conclusion,  there  are  in  the  recorded  sayings 
of  Jesus  many  traces  of  their  origin  in  conversation. 
He  is  a  man  speaking  to  men  in  the  language  of 
men,  and  pathos,  contrast,  humour,  and  spon- 
taneity are  the  natural  and  pleasant  marks  of  that 
language.  He,  like  all  great  teachers,  speaks  from 
the  abundance  of  His  heart  (Mt  12"*),  and  a  smile 
is  felt  in  His  words,  as  in  the  words  of  all  who  .see 
contradiction  without  loss  of  inner  jjeace.  See  also 
art.  Laughter. 

LlTERATORE.- 


Martensen,  Christian  Ethics,  i.  1S6. 

T.  K.  Glover. 

HUNGER The  substantive   'hunger'   (EV)  is 

the  equivalent  of  a  t!reek  word  (Xi/xo's)  which  in  the 
NT  is  used  either  of  the  sullering  of  an  individual 
(Lk  15",  cf.  2  Co  II-'),  or,  iiioie  generally,  of  the 

widespread  plague  of  laian i.  \!k  V.'fi,  Lk4'-^etc.; 

see  Blass'  Gram.  <;/' A      '.  ;     mi,  for  (he  com- 

bination XoiMoi  Kai  >i  ,1.      The  more 

frequently  occurriii.L;  \r,\.  i~  an  ilioL,etlior  dillerent 
word  (irciv^v),  and  it  is  sometimes  found  where  we 
niiglit  expect  "Kiiuis  or  its  cognates  (Mt  5"  and  Lk 
6-').  The  latter  occurs  in  but  6  places  in  the 
Gospels,  while  the  former  is  found  no  fewer  than 
17  times. 

There  is,  perhaps,  no  feature  of  Jesus'  human 
experience  so  vividly  instructive  as  that  which  is 
portrayed  for  us  in  the  simple  ineiih>nf:il  expression 
'  He  hungered  ■  (Ml  4^  l.k  4^  Ml  -IV^  Mk  11'=). 
This  is  noted  twice  l.y  I  lie  Synoplisls  ;  and  though 
we  have  no  such  ilirecl  slatement  hv  S(.  .lohn,  we 
are  not  left  by  the  hi((er  witliout  'a  reference  to 
this  side  of  '  the  humiliati(m  of  Christ.'  The  story 
of  Jesus'  conversation  with  the  woman  of  Samaria 


conveys  the  same  impr 
limitations  to  which  lb' 
are  struck  in  the  Synop 
of  the  disciples  for  tiic  sa 
needs  (Ju  4"'  'Pa/j/Jci,  .;• 
cause  of  the  boilily  wear 
to  rest  'thus  l.y  tin-  wi4i 

It  is  of  the'mvatcsl 
the  two  occ: 


to   the 


lie  physical 
h  which  we 


■  w  lil  iii'js.     The  anxiety 
sfaclion  of  their  Master's 

■  )  explains  at  least  one 
•ss  which  compelled  Him 


cs(  intere.st  to  notice  that,  on 
hen  it.  is  definitely  stated  that 
Jesus  suffered  the  pangs  of  hunger,  t'lie  ^vriter  has 
pointedly  attached  to  the  narrative  a  lesson  of 
p.sychological  and  spiritual  value.  St.  Matthew 
and  St.  Luke  both  inform  us  not  only  that  on  the 
completion  of  His  forty  days'  fast  '  he  hungered ' ; 
they  also  tell  us  that  the  Tempter  attacked  Him 
on  the  side  of  His  consequent  weakness.  '  If  thou 
art  the  Son  of  God,  command  that  these  stones  be- 
come bread'  (Mt  4",  cf.  the  stronger  and  more 
graphic  mould  in  which  St.  Luke  casts  tlie  narra- 
tive by  adopting  the  singular  rip  Xiffv  tout-w  for  ol 
XWoi  offroi  and  d/jros  for  fipToi,  Lk  4"),  expresses  the 
subtle  nature    of    this    temptation  in  a    manner 


liich  is  profoundly  in  keeping  with  all  human 
„     "'     Robertson's 


experienc 
'Elijah,'  ; 

that  this  wai 


(see 


w. 


L'pt  the  S.vnoptic  statement 

rst  of  the  three  teniptjitions, 

:i'loptthe  order  given  in  the 

1 1.  Holtziiiann  is  inclined  to 

in.   ai    niii   140-160).      The 

I  I     lumber  after  that 

111        .  I  he  series.    Holtz- 

iii'-n,  accordinjj  to 

■  I  I  lit   ill      Anionfif 

111  nil  the 


HUSBANDMAN 


miraculous 


f'r.inf 


I  the  Gospel  according  \ 


iuiMufactured  an 
-  .I.ucs.'or  bypre■ 
-..-  i-LLtion  of  hunger, 
thf  world."  [For  the 
1  the  Hebrews  (. . .  i.(y« 


Ivlyxi  U.I  t!;   ro  »/»5  m  ft<y«  e«/3»/>) 

wliich  makes  Sit.  Tabor  the  scene  of  the  Temptation,  see  Origcn, 
in  Joann.  torn.  ii.  5  6f.,  given  in  Nestle's  Grcecum  Stipple- 
itieiitum,  p.  77.  The  same  passage  is  quoted  more  than  once 
by  Jerome,  who  each  time  refers  it  to  the  Evangelium  quod 
gecundttm  (j'lxta)  Uebraos  {e.g.  in  Js  lo")). 

The  other  recorded  occasion  on  which  Jesus  suf- 
fered from  hunger  was  at  the  end  of  His  ministry, 
and  during  tliat  week  when  His  la.st  conflict  with 
the  religious  authorities  of  His  nation  culminated 
in  His  Passion  and  Death.  The  incident  atiords  an 
example  of  the  way  in  which  the  Evangelists,  in 
their  choice  of  literary  material,  were  guided  to 
subordinate  the  selection  of  historical  facts  to  the 
moral  and  spiritual  importance  attaching  to  them. 
Neither  St.  Matthew  nor  St.  Mark  was  deterred 
from  relating  the  story  of  the  fruitless  fig-tree  by 
a  fear  lest  the  appearance  of  harshness  and  petu- 
lance should  detract  from  the  moral  dignity  of  their 
Master.  Their  portrait  of  Him  was  too  faithful 
and  their  insight  too  keen  to  permit  any  suggestion, 
to  themselves  at  least,  of  an  unworthy  display,  in 
an  angry  moment,  of  thaumaturgical  energy.  See 
art.  Fig-tree. 

The  union  between  Christ  and  His  people,  so 
repeatedly  insisted  on  by  Jesus  as  indispensable  to 
their  higher  life  (see,  e.g.,  Jn  IS''^),  is  postulated  in 
His  great  eschatologieal  discourse.  The  sufferings 
of  redeemetl  humanity  are  His  sufferings,  and  the 
loving  serrice,  which  clothes  the  naked  and  feeds 
the  hungry,  is  hallowed  because  it  is  done,  not 
merely  in  His  cause,  but  for  Himself  (Mt  25^"-,  cf. 
104i)«r.)_  There  is  something  more  in  these  words 
than  an  expression  of  syiii|i:itliy  I'V  .i  brother  who 
has  himself  experienceil  ■Icpiix  ation  and  suffering 

■  (cf.  He  4'=),  and  who  feels  lur  ( wlio  is  passin<' 

through  similar  stages.  We  have  in  them  a  vivid 
portraiture  of  that  essential  and  spiritual  oneness 
upon  which  the  writer  of  the  Fourth  Gospel  lays 
such  emphasis  (cf.  Jn  14*  1721.3.20  et(._.  ggg  ajgo 
Ac  9°  'E7ii  ei/ii  'It/o-oGs  Sk  <n>  Siiiicfis). 

It  is  not  without  significance  that  not  only  have 
we  this  my.stic  union  adumbrated  by  the  Synoptists 
which  is  elaborated  and,  inchoatively  at  least, 
systematized  by  St.  John;  we  have  also  recorder  I 
in  the  WTitings  of  all  three  an  incident  illustratix  e 
of  that  complete  companionship  in  privations  as 
well  as  in  privileges  which  He  demanded  as  tlie 
essence  of  discipleship  from  the  scribe  who  «uulil 
follow  Him  whithersoever  He  went  (Lk  iV-  -  Mt  s- ' ; 
cf.  Mt  I0»  16--",  Lk  9^,  Mk  8*^  etc.).  The  laet  that 
the  disciples  suflered  hunger  is  speoiiie ally  men 
tioned  by  St.  Matthew,  though  it  is  only  to  be  in- 
ferred from  the  parallel  passages  in  the  other  two 
Synoptists  (cf.  Mk  2^«-  =  Ut  l-2"f-  =  Lk  G'"-).  On 
this  occa.sion  Jesus  takes  advantage  of  the  oppor- 
tunity afforded  by  the  carping  criticism  of  the 
Pharisees  to  emphasize,  by  an  appeal  to  the  case  of 
the  hungry  David,  His  teaching  on  the  Sabbath 
question.  A  fine  touch  is  added  by  each  of  the 
Synoptists  which  beautifully  illustrates  the  spirit 
of  camaraderie  existing  between  Jesus  and  His 
disciples.  The  touch  is  incidental,  and  tlierefore 
the  more  effect ive,  Eaeh  of  the  writers  p\-|iressly 
states  that  it  was  (he  .li-eiple.,  wlm  were  phv  kin'u 
the  ears  of  corn  ami  imt  -le^us.  tlumt^li  .■a^li  .nm- 
mences  the  narrative  liy  niaUiii;,'  .lesus  the  ^uhj.ci 
of  the  story  {eTropivtii}  6  l-naovt,  k.t.X.,  .\It  li."  :  .  .  . 
avrbv  dtawopeiicaffai,  Mk  2^,  Lk  6').  It  was  througli 
the  disciples  that  the  Piiarisees  attacked  Him  (cf., 
however,  Lk  6-) ;  and  it  was  in  their  defence  that 


Jesus  met  them  with  the  unanswerable  argument 
taken  from  their  own  armoury — the  UT. 

It  will  not  surprise  us  to  find  Jesus  transferring 
the  idea  of  physical  bungler  to  the  spiritual  life  and 
experience,  as  this  habit  of  transposition  foniw 
one  of  the  most  attractive  and  powerful  features  in 
His  teachin".  Just  as  in  man's  physical  life  hunger 
is  a  sign  of  health,  and  becomes  an  evil  only  when 
its  cravings  cannot  be  satisfied,  so  Jesus  counts 
those  blessed  whose  soul's  health  is  robust  enough 
to  cause  them  to  cry  out  from  hunger  after  right- 
eousness (note  the  peculiar  construction  which  has 
the  accusative  rrif  BiKaioaivrii'  after  ireivUvret  instead 
of  the  genitive  of  classical  writers  ;  cf.  Od.  xx.  137  ; 
Xen.  Cyr.  VIII.  iii.  39 ;  Plato,  Bep.  521  A ;  see 
Blass'  Grammar  of  NT  Greek,  p.  89  f.  ;  and  Liddell 
and  Scott's  Lexicon).  That  need,  because  it  is  felt, 
shall  be  met  in  the  fullest  possible  way,  hence  their 
blessedness  {Sri  avrol  xop'rocff^o-ofrot,  Mt  5* ;  cf. 
Lk  6=1). 

On  the  other  hand,  they  are  to  be  pitied  whose 
spiritual  appetite  is  so  deranged  that  they  feel  no 
need  at  all,  because  the  day  shall  come  when  they 
must  feel,  and  the  pangs  of  hunger  shall  remain 
without  hope  of  alleviation  (Sri  ireivaaeTf,  Lk  6-^). 
That  He  possessed  the  power  of  permanently  satis- 
fying the  deepest  needs  of  the  human  soul,  Jesus 
categorically  asserts  on  more  than  one  occasion  (Jn 
6^,  cf.  4"  and  7").  In  these  express  assurances  we 
may  see  the  profovindest  explanation  of  the  words 
of  the  Magnificat:  'The  hungry  he  hath  filled 
with  good  things  ;  and  the  rich  he  hath  sent  empty 
away'  (Lk  1^),  which  are  but  the  echo  of  the  word's 
in  which  the  Psalmist  long  before  had  clothed  his 
experience  (Ps  107^).  J.  R.  WiLLIS. 

HUSBAND  (di-^p).— Betrothal  and  marriage  were 
virtually  one  among  the  Jews.  The  former  con- 
sisted in  the  simple  act,  on  the  part  of  the  bride- 
groom or  his  deputy,  of  giving  to  the  bride  or  her 
representative  a  written  engagement,  in  the  pres- 
ence of  two  witnesses,  or  a  piece  of  money,  large 
or  small,  with  the  words,  'Be  thou  consecrated 
unto  me.'  Like  marriage  itself,  of  which  it  was 
the  initiatory  step,  it  could  be  dissolved  only  by 
death  or  divorce.  Under  the  Mosaic  Law,  the 
maiTiage  tie  was  comparatively  easily  broken,  and 
divorces  seem  to  have  been  quite  common.  During 
the  period  of  the  later  prophets  the  ethical  stand- 
ard was  considerably  advanced  ('  God  hates  putting 
away,'  Mai  2"").  Christ  Himself  utterly  set  aside 
the  ^aw  of  Moses,  and  limited  the  dissolution  of 
the  in avriage  tie  to  the  one  cause  of  adultery  ;  and 
in  this  respect  He  apparently  put  the  two  sexes  on 
the  same  plane  (Mk  10"').  The  mercy  of  Christ 
towards  -inners  against  the  law  of  sexual  morality 
as  lai.l  down  liy  Himself  is,  however,  beautifully 
illnstrated  in  His  treatment  of  the  Samaritan 
woman  (.In  4'-  '"(,  and  in  that  of  the  woman  taken 
in  adultery    s'    ' .. 

In  Mtl'  In  ,|ili   is  ealled  'the  husband'  of 

Mary,  indica;  in  ,  in  <  -mnexion  with  v.'-^,  that  true 
marital  relati'ia-  e\i-ti^l  hetween  them.  This  is  in 
evident  conflict  with  the  Apocrypha,  which  assigns 
to  Joseph  the  place  of  a  guardian  rather  than  tliat 
of  a  tnie  husband,  in  order  to  uphold  the  perpetual 
virginity  of  MarJ^  See,  further,  artt.  Marriage, 
AViFE.  Henry  E.  Dosker. 

HUSBANDMAN  (7€up7^s).— Jesus  knew  well  the 
life  of  the  fields.  His  keen  eye  for  illustrations 
fell  reailily  on  the  most  fundamental  of  occupa- 
tions; one  universal  since  the  primeval  days  when 
simple  patriarchs  began  to  be  husbandmen,  and 
princes  digged  at  the  up-springing  Avell  ('  which 
the  nobles  of  the  people  delved,  with  the  sceptre 
•  This  pass.'^re,  whether  genuine  or  not,  Is  certainly  a  true 
refle.\ion  of  our  Lord's  mind  and  character. 


HUSBANDMAN 


HUSKS 


763 


and  with  their  staves,'  Nu  21'*  KV).  Agriculture, 
in  Israel's  best  days,  had  hrru  thi-  ihief  employ- 
ment, and  still  fri.i'ii  nit  ihc  stall,  red  villages  men 
were  to  be  seen  ai  wmk  u\n,n  thr  riiiftlike  patches. 
As  sure  token  of  liajijiy  and  succcsslul  labours,  the 
plain  was  verdant  witli  the  growing  grain,  the 
vines  liung  graceful  from  the  terraced  slope. 
The  human  mind  never  fails  to  be  arrested  in 
religious  mood  by  the  mystic  forces  of  nature  ;  and 
in  the  case  of  the  JeA\s  there  was  this  added 
discipline,  that  Scripture,  read  statedly  in  their 
liearing,  teemed  with  references  to  the  tilling  of 
the  soil.  Keady  to  the  lips  of  Jesus,  therefore, 
was  an  allusive  spi-n  h  vliidi  slujuhl  prove  power- 
ful in  appeal  to  cdurali'.l  ai  il  uneducated  alike. 
The  way  into  the  iii.|iular  Miitiiuent  was  ck-ar  for 
Him.  Peoijle  were  at  luast  grounded  in  the  ele- 
ments of  literarj'  thought.  Un  the  principles  and 
growth  of  the  great  Kingdom  He  could  discourse 
profitably  under  the  familiar  images  of  seed-time 
and  liarvest,  tree  or  plant  culture  in  their  gardens, 
or  the  ongoings  in  tlieir  season  of  the  workers  in 
tlie  vineyard  on  the  hill. 

What  proliably  commended  this  line  of  teaching 
to  Jesus,  however,  was  the  fact  that  husbandry 
suggests,  in  singular  fashion,  the  co-ordination  of 
man's  activity  with  God's.  Without,  on  the  one 
hand,  what  is  graciously  supplied  to  us— soil  and 
seed,  rain  and  sunshine— man's  labour  could  be  of 
no  avail ;  yet,  on  the  other  hand,  without  that 
labour  well  directed,  mankind  would  perish.  The 
lesson  is  writ  large  in  cultivated  fields  that  faith 
and  hope,  zeal  and  jiatience,  have  a  reward  assured 
which  comes  immediate  from  the  hand  of  God. 
Further,  this  rural  imagery  of  Jesus  met  the  fact 
that  the  minds  hearing  Him  were  not  all  equally 
ready  to  see  the  truth  in  His  light.  For  such 
persons,  pictures  from  the  outer  and  familiar  realm 
stored  up  material  for  self-cailture  in  the  future. 
And  nothing  better  certifies  the  supreiiip  instinct 
of  the  Master  than  this,  that  t\w  tlionvaml  n-vcla- 
tions  of  the  natural  science  of  l.i  ilay  illii>trate 
only  the  more  those  spiritual  iniinipli,^  and 
universal  laws  of  the  unseen  v\  hicli  He  w  as  wont 
to  enforce  by  reference  to  plienomena  around  Him 
as  He  spoke. 

The  slighter  glances  recorded  of  Jesus  in  this 
realm  are  fairly  numerous.  Compare  the  refer- 
ences to  plants  and  trees  (Mt  71^--"  12"^,  Lk  6""''^), 
the  putting  of  the  hand  to  the  plough  (Lk  9"=), 
the  application  of  salt  to  the  land  (Mt  5",  Lk 
14"'),  the  ox  fallen  into  the  pit  (Lk  14^),  the  action 
of  tlie  airs  of  heaven  (Lk  12^^,  Jn  3'),  the  glo^inu 
or  beclouded  sky  (Mt  16"  ^  Lk  12'^),  the  buyer 
gone  to  survey  his  piece  of  ground  (Lk  14'"),  oi- 
busy  testing  his  new  teams  (v.'-'),  the  dec|>ly- 
suggestive  corn  of  wheat  (Jn  12-^),  tlic  sifting  of 
the  same  (Lk  22='),  the  tenant  counting  up  his 
measures  (Lk  16'),  labourers  needed  for  tlie  plente- 
ous harvest  (Mt  9"'-^,  Lk  10=),  the  growing  white- 
ness of  the  crops  (Jn  4^),  the  fated  twain  of  field 
workers  (Mt  24™,  Lk  17^),  and  the  beautiful 
picture  of  the  fig-tree  at  the  approach  of  summer 
jiutting  forth  leaves  upon  its  tender  branch  (Mt 
24^2,  Lk  2V-% 

But  chiefly  in  the  exquisite  parables  do  we  see 
that  power  of  observation  in  the  mnterinl  world 
which  makes  Jesus  so  eiiuau  ill 'J  .as  a  rhilil  of  natiii.'. 
who  lived  much,  and  li\i'(l  inr.  in  ih.^  opin  air  ol 
Palestine.  Aswe  move  with  Him  l.y  llir  liiuliw.iys 
and  the  hedges,  we  descry  in  one  lii-ld  tlic  servant 
ploughing  or  feeding  cattle  (Lk  17'),  in  another  the 
well-remembered  spot  where  gleams  of  joy  lit  up 
the  rustic's  eyes  who  hajiped  upon  hid  treasure  (Mt 
IS").  Here  we  have  the  corn-lands  gi-een  with  the 
sprouting  of  the  tiny  blade  (Mk  4-«-2»),  tangled 
betimes  with  the  tares  (Mt  13==)  ;  there  the  rocky 
and  the  thorn-choked  patches  (Mk  4*-') ;  and  over 


all  the  hovering  birds  (v.''),  ready  to  devour  the 
precious  seed.  We  see  the  labourers  standing  in 
the  market-place  for  hire  (Mt  20^),  the  prosperous 
farmer  critical  about  his  barns  (Lk  12'"),  the 
shepherd  searching  the  grassy  plateau  for  his  sheep 
(Mt  18'-).  Men  are  workiuf'  in  the  clumps  of 
vines  (Mt  21'-"),  from  which  tlie  wine-press  peeps 
(Mk  12'),  and  where  the  watch-tower  stands  upon 
its  bolder  coign  (v.').  See  the  garden  where  the 
tall  mustard  grows  (Lk  13'"),  and  yonder  the 
forlorn  fig-tree  (v.")  threatened  with  the  axe. 
The  whole  world  of  nature,  the  varied  scenes  of 
toil,  are  laid  amply  under  contribution,  made  the 
emblems  and  the  witness  of  the  highest  things  of 
the  Sjiirit.  (See  art.  VINE  (ALLEGORY  OF)  for  dis- 
course njion  the  Vine  and  the  Branches,  Jn  15'"", 
where  the  Father  is  the  Husbandman  ;  cf.  also  art. 
Agriculture). 

One  parable  must  be  specially  noted — the  story 
of  the  Wicked  Husbandmen  (Mt  2p3-i3,  Mk  12'-'', 
Lk  20Sf-),  whicli  is  an  incisive  review  of  God's 
relations  with  His  peo|.le.  Endless  pains  had 
been  taken  (Mk  IJ'j  Asitli  the  vineyard  of  the 
Kingdom,  yet  %\  lien  messenger  after  messenger 
came  seeking  fruit  in  the  Divine  name,  they  had 
been  sent  empty  away,  and  contumeliously  treated 
— one  beaten,  another  wounded,  a  third  killed 
(vv.2-6).  Nowhere  does  Jesus  put  Himself  more 
clearly  in  line  with  the  prophets.  As  the  gloomy 
night  is  gathering  fast  around  His  own  head.  He 
feels  full  affinity  of  fate  with  them.  In  the 
passage  He  carries,  indeed,  the  history  of  Israel's 
sliameful  conduct  not  only  to  the  days  of  the 
Baptist,  but  even  a  little  beyond  the  moment  of 
utterance.  We  have  insight  into  the  marvellous 
composure  of  the  heart  of  Jesus  as  He  jiictures  His 
own  case  in  the  person  of  the  one  son,  wc^ll  beloved, 
who  was  cast  out,  bruised  ami  blrrdiuM,  liis  body 
soon  to  be  cold  in  death  niion  the  lii^jhuay  (v.*). 
Thtts,  in  tragic  fashion,  He  broadens  the  charge 
against  His  opponents,  -with  their  complacent 
jealousy  (v.'),  by  pioxiiij;  tlieir  conduct  to  be  of  a 
piece  witli  Israels  .rucl  treatment  of  sjieakers  for 
God  in  the  past.  The  note  of  severity  anil  moral 
indignation  is  unmistakable,  but  it  is  blended  with 
one  of  wistful  sadness.  Mot  thai  His  own  ap- 
proaching death  troubles  Him;  He  tears  not  Jis 
He  enters  into  the  cloud,  and  is  ready  to  give  His 
life  as  covenant  blood  for  the  setting  up  of  the  King- 
dom. But  His  countrymen's  wayward  folly,  and 
the  terrible  crisis  at  liand  for  the  Jewish  State, 
weii^li  heavy  on  His  sjiirit.  Their  doom.  He  con- 
iliale-,,  is  Miilteii  with  (e.d's  own  finger  on  the 
wall,  lor  llios,'  via.  had  the  eyes  to  see:  '  He  Avill 
eonie.  .and  destroy  llie  liusii.-indmen,  and  will  give 
the  vineyard  unto  others'  (v.-'). 

George  Murray. 

HUSKS.— The  only  mention  of  husks  (xepdria,  .so 
called  from  their  shape,  which  resembles  'horns') 
occurs  in  Lk  15'".  Husks  were  the  pods  of  the 
carob-tree,  whicli  is  also  known  as  the  loeust-tree 
{C'emtonia  ai/igiin).  This  tree,  which  is  common 
in  Palestine,  belongs  to  the  order  Lcguminosa;,  and 
is  an  evergreen.  It  attains  to  a  height  of  about 
30  feet,  and  has  a  dense  foliage.  Its  leaves  are  of 
a  dark,  glossy  green.  The  pods  are  from  6  to  10 
inches  in  length  and  1  in  breadth.  They  contain  a 
thick,  sweet  pulp,  not  unpleasant  to  the  palate, 
and  are  used  as  food  for  pigs,  cattle,  and  horses. 
They  are  .also,  because  of  their  cheapness,  eaten  by 
the  very  poor. 

Some"  liave  identified  the  pods  of  the  carob  witli 
the  '  locusts '  {aKpiSes)  which  John  the  Baptist  ate 
(Mt  3-).  It  is  true  they  .are  sometimes  called  'St. 
John's  bread,'  this  naiiii-  li.iving  been  given  to  them 
by  the  monks  oi  Tahsiin.'  or  by  'pious  pilgrims' 
(Thomson,  J. I:  p.  ii:>."M,  Imt  there  can  be  little 
doubt  that  the  llaptisi's  food  was  not  carob-pods, 


764 


HYMN 


HYMN 


but  the  insect,  which  i 
Arabs.    See  Locust. 


still  eaten  by  the  wandering 
Hugh  Duncan. 


HYMN.— 1.  Introductory.— In  the  earliest  period 
the  terms  'hymn'  (Cm'-os)  and  'to  hymn'  (y^"'") 
seem  to  have  covered  practically  every  kuid  ot 
composition  which  was  sung  or  rliythmically  recited 
in  Christian  worship  or  the  Christian  assemblies. 

in  col  3.0  ^f.^^^^X^Z^Til^k^^^'S^^^^X^ 
thp'^i  N  /t  'i'",'-"  "It,  rV.l  b.  (ifi.l  ill  tlif  c-aviv  Christian  assemblies. 
'While  til.  l.i.liii-  il.i  "li«>"  1^  a  musical  accompaniment, 
„I.i  <i,.,t  ,,f  ,,.  T,rii,r  to  Ciiil.  •■■",  is  the  general  word  for  a 
=rn„  wl,  th.r  n.rouiiaiiie.l  or  unaccompanied,  whether  of 
l^fc'o  )^r^n  1,1V  other  snhiect  Thus  it  was  quite  possible  tor 
?h^'"nTe"so,;;;'to°be  at  onci'tx,-=,  S.-..".  and'  .'M  P(Lightfoot 

J  to  be  distinguished 

PsaUiis*)  .and  canticles 
rhich  are  incorporated 
;-t).  Tliis,  of  course, 
fixing  of  the  Canon. 
I  this  sense,  were  not 


on  Col  3i«). 

SpcciHcally  h; 
from  jjsalms  (i. 
('  poetical  extracts  f 


Holy  Scriptu 
the  Divini  ' 
applies  to  the  period  subsequent  to  t 
But  the  earliest  ecclesiastical  hymns. 

The  'co 
follow  til 


sunder  the  title  I 


uihai  immediately 
ials  and  in  a  large 
Item  are  now  suns 
'hurch.    Codex  A 


Nunc  Dimittis,  and  Gloria  in  Excelsis  (Angels 
son<'),  and  which  are  embodied  in  the  first  two 
chapters  of  the  Tltiiil  Cuspel,  are  probably  the 
earliest  extuii|ili'^  "l  <  In  istian  hyur- 


They  are 


ascribed  to  ilw  \'u-in  Mary,  Simeon,  Zacharia.s, 
and  the  Aii'j,'-!-  ir>ii.rtiv.'ly  ;  but  it  is  more  probable 
that  they  are  to  be  regarded  as  original  liturgical 
compositions,  reflecting  the  piety  and  devotion  of 
the  early  Jewish-Christian  community  m  Palestine. 
Probably,  too,  they  are  translations  from  Hebrew 
originals,  and  were  at  first  sung  or  chanted  in 
Hebrew.*  The  hymns  themselves  are  obviously 
modelled  on  the  psalm-poetry  of  the  OT,  some  of 
which,  as  has  been  pointed  out,  would  be  generally 
familiar  in  its  Hcbreio  form  to  the  Aramaic- 
speaking  Jews  of  Palestine  in  the  time  of  Christ.+ 
For  details  as  to  the  dependence  of  these  hymns  on  the  OT 
see  the  commentaries  (in  irarticvilar,  I'hunmer.  Intern.  Lnt. 
Com.  on  'St.  Luke').  Ni'tin^  Hr^  ,.,oinin.  n.  ••  -i  the  ..lea  of  a 
Messianic  redemption  fr.iiii  Mil.  ^Mii'  m-'  'ii  ■  .  ' '  ,'  ', -V  1:  \.?iV 
Christian  (cf.  Lk  1"  with  riiiiimi'  i  -^  n.i.  ;  i.n.i  .V.  ■ /V/  'T '; 
For  the  poetical  form  ami  strunur.  .  !■  "•[•■  Un-'-:>,  IJij  .i  i-yinn 

^  "^f  xfi[' afe  laiter  t^  ^U.^^)"  The  pr^;,;;;  w|cr 
finds  himself  in  independent  .agreement  with  Bnggsin  regardmg 
Mt  l-Ob.-il  as  a  translation  from    a  Hebrew  poetical   piece.; 


2.  Jewish  Liturgical  usiaj' .  In  M,.  l.iiil.' 
services  the  Psalms  naturally  iil.i.vi<l  ■'  Ki,.;it  i.nt. 
For  the  daily  service  the  order  of  the  l.-^:ilms, 
which  were  sung  to  a  musical  accompaniment  by 
the  Levitical  clioir,§  was  as  follows :  1st  day  of 
the  week,  l'«  24  ;  2nd,  Ps  48  ;  3rd,  Ps  82 ;  4th,  Ps 
94  ;  5th,  Ps  81  ;  6th,  Ps  93  ;  Sabbath,  Ps  92.  Special 
Psalms  were  also  used  for  special  occasions. 

It  h.as  been  .luestioiied  whether  psahn.5.1v  formed  an  element 


expoundini;  the  Sen; 

be  inferred  that  on 
ay  rate,  was  recited  i 

difficult  to  lK.lie\e 


(i) 


suggests  that  ; 
gogue  use :  esj 
112,  114,  110,  1 


K^i:: 


The  Emnrtclical  Canticles. — The  poetical  pieces 
which  we   know  as    the  Magnificat,   Bcnedictus, 

•  It  is  possible  that  in  Col  318,  Eph  513  the  t«rm  +«x,a«  is 
Bimilarly  restricted  in  meaning. 

t  Vict.  Ckr.  Ant.  i.  284. 

I  Cf.  Swete,  Introd.  to  the  OT  in  Greek,  p.  253  f. 
5  Cf.  Edereheim,  Temple,  etc.  p.  143  f. 

II  Cf.  esp.  Mt'ij.  iv.  3. 

II  It  is  worth  noting  that  the  regular  term  employed  in  the 
Mishna  is  to  •  read '  (Sip)  the  Mallei.  In  the  T..,Ml.le-service  it 
„„, .,     ,:  ,,  ,.,,    .„.,„,l.,li.„i  ..i.l    1.1..1-.    ii,.ll.-l.  which 


I  , „|3  ■  (5)  is  a  pentameter  poem,  as  is  also  Mt  V^^-  2». 

,         .11  "O   back  to   two  long   poems  (a  trimeter   and 
|,.  i.i  .111.  i.i),  from  which  the  above  are  extracts. 

i.  Other  Hymns  and  Hymn-picce.i.—{a)  It  has 
been  suggested  with  some  plausibility  that  the 
Prologue  of  the  Fourth  Go.spel  '  is  a  hymn  to  the 
Logos,  compo.sed  independently  of  the  Gospel  and 
prefixed  to  it. '  §  Here  also  Professor  Briggs  detects 
a  truneter  poem  originally  arranged  in  three  parts.H 
For  other  possible  extracts  from  early  Christian 
hymns  in  the  NT,  reference  may  here  be  matle  to 
'  Hymn '  in  Hastings'  DB  ii.  p.  440  f. 

In  the  Apocalypse,  also,  there  are  a  number  of 
soncs  ivSat)  which  may,  perhaps,  be  regarded  fus 
tia.'litiontil  JewLsh-Christian  hymns  (cf.  4"  S"'''-'- 
II  "  ■  i.v'-). 

I      ,  I    ,Mble  that  the  curious  phrase,  'Amen,  come'  (Rev 

1.  an  acrostic  reference  to  a  Jewish  hymn  which  is 

,,,  111,.  sviin.-oL'ue  CA'ii  A'cM/ifml, 'There  is  none  like 

,     ,,     ].  71       riiis  composition,  in  its  present 

:   l.iHSc.ach.    The  initial  letters  of 

.  wordsN3  ];DK  =  '.(lweii,coMic'll 

:-i  .1  1  ..  Creek  term  iii.o!  occurs  in  the 

.Midia.sh  (.f.  l:-r.  n,Mm  viii.  ;)  =  a  hymn  to  a  king). 

(b)  The  Eosanna-hymn,  or  cry  of  praise  of  Palm 
Sunday,  with  which  Jesus  was  gi-eeted  on  His  la-st 
entry  into  Jcrusalem,11  is  given  in  various  forms  in 
the  Gospels.  In  its  simplest  form  it  occurs  in 
Mk  ll'-"  and  Jn  12^  which  really  give  the  cry  <.f 
the  multitude :  ni,T  cB-i  Nnn  ina  ta  ymn.  The  ad; 
ditions  that  occur  in  the  other  passages  (tvi'<v 
AaneiS,  Mt  2P- '" ;  and  ev  tois  v4>laT0is,  Mt  21-, 
Mk  11")**  seem  really  to  be  later  amplifications 
•  See  an  article  by  the  present  writer  in  ZXTIV  vi.  p.  80  f. 
(Trh  I'V.-y  ,1,  ■Th.-'Gospcl  Narratives  ot  the  Nativity,'  etc 

,\',  ,     '  ,  r'„rio-inal  underlies  these  two  verses  is  shown 

1,/  111,    play  upon  words  in  v.2i  (.Tegus  nhall  saw) 

, .,,,  i„    ,  I  1     I  ...  .1  only  by  Hebrew— not  Aramaic— phraseology 

Tcf.  for  details  Briggs,  The  }lmiah  of  the  Apostles  (1^5), 
495-515;  he  compares  the  above  to  the  'credal  hymn    in 


\\ 


'iJ^n 


Fourth  liospch    i,k._(p' 
verse  int«, 
the  Lord.' 


.)i>iiiiU'IIosunna'aiid  alters  tlie  I 
the  King  that  coineth  in  the  iia 

HOHANXA. 


HYPOCRISY 


HYPOCEISY 


765 


due  to  liturgical  influence,  when  lio-on/d  (which  in 
its  Hebrew  form  nyiion  is  really  a  cry  addressed  to 
God,  '&IVC  now!')  was  misunderstood  as  a  shout 
of  homage  or  greeting=' Had !'  or  'Glory  to.' 
See  Balman,  Words  of  Jesus  (Eny.  tr.),  p.  220  f. 

Cheyne's  explanation, -E?ic//c.  Bihl.  .v.i,  '  H.>-;inti:t,'  i-:  lianlly 
convincing.     LinliWoot,  in  his  intei;L-stii,_       >    I;     \  Hllnrk 

we  beseecii  Tliee,  O  Thou  [vviio  d\velli-^t]  n   iii-ni  -t,'  lukinfj 

IV  T«iff  u-^i(noi=  as  a  substitute  for  the  Invnn;  liauiu.  This  is 
barely  possible. 

The  Hosanna-cry  (cf.  Ps  118^'-)  and  the  palm 
branches  naturally  suggest  the  Feast  of  Taber- 
nacles, with  the  ceremonies  of  which  they  were 
most  closely  associated  (esp.  in  the  '  Hosanna ' 
processions  of  the  Festival).*  It  seems,  however, 
that  such  processions  might  be  extemporized  for 
other  occasions  of  a  joyous  character  (cf.  1  Mac 
13=1,  2  Mac  10'),  and  this  was  the  case  in  the 
scene  described  in  the  Gospels. 

Wiinsche,  indeed  (Erlautcnmgen  der  Evangdien  am  Talmud 
und  Uidrash,  p.  241),  supposes  that  a  confusion  has  arisen  in 
the  Gospel  accounts  between  Tabernacles  and  Passover ;  but 
this  is  unnecessary.  It  is  noteworthy  that  there  seem  to  be 
traces  in  the  Midrash  on  the  Psalms  of  the  Messianic  inter- 
pretation of  Ps.  llS'^.t 

Literature.— The  most  important  contributions  to  the  subject 
of  NT  hymnody  are  the  works  of  Briggs  above  cited.  Reference 
may  also  be  made  to  artt.  '  Hosanna '  in  the  Jewish  Encyc,  and 
Encyc.  MM.  respectively ;  also  to  '  Hymns '  in  Encyc.  BM.  ; 
'Hymn'  in  Hastings'  DB;\  'Hymn,'  'Canticle,'  in  Diet.  Chr. 
A7it.,  and  to  '  Kirohenlied  i.  (in  der  alten  Kirche)'  and  'Litur- 
gische  Formeln'  in  PRE^.  Other  references  have  been  given  in 
the  body  of  the  article.  Q   JJ    ]3qx 


Lk  2020  ;  i^sxpni;  only  in  the  .Svnopp., 
alone  ;  li:rSxp,ir,s  once  in  Mt.  (23-'*),  once  i 
(121),  and  also  in  Gal  213,  i  Ti  4=,  and 
ing  of  the  word  is  to  distintjintih  briwct 


vh.at  link  of  association  i 
I  determine. 

I  rhapsodists  a 


: apphi 


!  used  by  the  Attic 


was  restricted  to  declamation  on  the  stage,  and  then,  by  a  pro- 
cess repeated  in  other  lanjjuages,  was  used  for  acting  a  part, 
and  30  for  acting  a  part  for  a  base  end  for  "■ivin*^  oneself  out  tc 
be  what  one  knew  one  ought  to  be  but  had  no  te  t  on  of  1  e 
comng 
In  the  Apocr  the  word 


of  fe  gr 
2  Mac  6 


8  found  n  th  s  sense  of  a  t    g  a  i  art 

'    n     shades  of  n  oral  oM  qu  tj      In 

d  to  e  1 1  3  own  meat  vh\e/  g       g 

1 1  o    ted  by  the  k  n^      Tho  gh  the 

ate  Eleazar  s  reply  sho  V3  that  the 

at  ons     S  n  larly  4  Mac  6  7     In 

n    Go  1    n  I       k       th    1         t  s 

the  NT     Tl      T\\  1  In 


the 


^T 


but  tl 


ludes  the   dea  of       i  e 

1     nt  n  the   Hrkness    .      _  .  __ 

also   nfluenced  bv  ^Sn  though  the  I  \X  tr  nsl  te 
5oA  0     or  J  X  Fro      the  root   dea  of  s    ooth  e.      t  .      e  to 

be  employed  for  flattery,  and  so  for  all  kinds  of  evil  deception. 
The  kinship  of  the  two  words  ^jrj  and  pSnmaybeseenin  Dnll32, 
where  those  who  are  basely  disloyal  to  the  covenant  expose 
themselves  to  the  danger  of  being  led  into  a  false  position 
towards  God  by  smooth  deceits. 

Yet  the  conception  of  this  vice  in  the  popular  mind  of  His 
time,  to  which  our  Lord  appealed,  was  less  determined  by  any 
particular  Hebrew  word  than  by  the  general  teaching  of  the 
OT.  The  hypocrites  speak  with  a  double  heart  (Ps  12=).  They 
have  smooth  lips,  and  their  profession  is  far  beyond  their  per- 
formance (123).  They  imagine  that  wickedness  can  be  shut  up 
in  the  heart.  They  are  brazen  towards  God,  and  deceitful 
towards  men.  Thev  cease  to  hate  evil  and  take  to  planning  it 
(361-4).  Above  all,  they  attempt  to  deceive  God  (78%  Hypo- 
crisy is  a  thing  Ood  cannot  tolerate  (Job  2216),  and  which  He  is 
continually  exposing  (513).  Idolatry  is  a  sort  of  hypocrisy  from 
which  a  nianc^n  keep  by  being  perfect,  i.e.  whole-hearted,  with 
the  Lord  his  Ood  (Dt  im).  The  classical  passage  for  a  h^-Jlocris^■ 
that  practises  the  ceremonies  and  knows  none  of  the  duties  of 
religion  is  Is  1,  hut  nearly  every  prophet  has  occasion  to  speak 
agamst  the  evil.     All  false  prophecy  was  hypocris.y — the  saying 


*  For  a  description  of  these  see  Dembitz,  Jewish  Services,  etc., 
p.  323  f. 
t  Cf.  also  the  citation  of  v.fflf.  of  the  same  Psalm  in  Mt  21«. 


not  of  the  thinj;  that  was  true, 
jerson  most  deceived  was  the  hypocrite  himself  (Is  3314-15^ 
"f*),  but  he  was  also  a  danger  to  the  society  in  which  he 
lived  (.Job  15^).  To  all  the  true  prophets  he  was  the  supreme 
danger  to  the  State 

The  Talmud  la\  s  the  ^ame  stress  upon  h\  pncris\  is  the  oppo 
site  of  faith  in  God       There  are  fo  ir     I  I     ,,    ir  1  efore 

God — the  scoffer  the  hjpocrite    tl  I  I  itr  — 

all  vices  of  falsehood        tod  h  u  w^ 

with  the  mouth   uid  another  \\  j  \        at; 

which  has  hjpocntts  for  its  men  1  ,  d  fills 

Hypocrisy  was  plainly  no  new  vice  in  our  Lord's 
time,  but  an  ancient  heritage  into  which  the 
Pharisees  entered.  How,  then,  are  we  to  account 
for  the  suil.lrii  ],ioiniiiriKe  to  which  it  is  raised? 
No  rill'  is  Inl.l  \\\,  1,1  Mirh  unenviable  notoriety  in 
the  S.VH..iaics,  II, ,  ,,ilici-  .■..iiibated  with  the  .same 
direct  (Ifiiiiiiciutioii,  while  in  .lolm  Toi/.fcoos  is  a  con- 
ception only  a  little  wider  tli.ni  .  jr/nuris,  ,-uid  has 
the  same  condemnation.  Pii-i  >A  :<ll.  m  i  hec-ause 
it  is  a  sin  of  deception,  it  is  1 1  h  m  1 1 ,  - 1 ,  i  \  |  .used,  as 
if  our  Lord  would  give  a  piucUtuI  iluinun.stration 
that  there  is  nothing  liidden  tliat  shall  not  be  made 
known.  A  sin  which  glories  in  misleading  an 
opponent  by  smooth  flatteries  (Mt  22'«),  which  goes 
about  in  long  robes  and  seeks  to  be  reverenced  by 
public  salutations,  which  takes  its  honour  for 
granted  and  cloaks  oppressive  avarice  with  long 
prayers  (Mk  1258-^"),  which  cleanses  the  outside  of 
the  cup  and  ^ilatter  while  leaving  them  full  of  extor- 
tion and  wickedness,  which  makes  men  hidden 
tombs,  fair  without  and  foul  within  (Lk  ll^^),  is 
met,  as  no  other  sin  can  be,  by  exposure. 

Then  the  sin  which  lives'  by  corrupting  the 
conscience  has  cut  itself  off  from  the  usual  appeal 
of  holiness  and  love  by  which  our  Lord  seeks  to 
win  men  from  other  sins.  It  substitutes  tradi- 
tional practices  for  living  duties  (Mt  15") ;  it  uses 
minutiae  of  ecclesiastical  rule  as  a  substitute  for 
judgment  and  the  love  of  God  (Lk  ll-"-)  ;  it  cannot 
receive  the  truth,  because  its  eye  is  on  man  and  not 
on  God  (Jn  5**) ;  it  makes  inquiries  not  in  order  to 
believe  the  truth,  but  in  order  to  refute  it  (9"-  ^) ; 
and  it  is  chained  to  its  error  by  a  confident  assur- 
ance that  it  alone  is  right  (9^1).  The  only  way  of 
appeal  left  is  direct  denunciation. 

Further,  sin  is,  in  a  pre-eminent  degree,  the 
foe  of  all  truth.  The  hypocrite  is  in  a  special 
ense  the  child  of  the  father  of  lies  (Jn  8"). 
Hypocrisy  is  not  a  mere  sin  of  impulse,  but  is 
tl  e  opposite  of  everything  by  which  we  may  lay 
hold  of  truth  and  be  delivered.  As  surely  as  faitli 
leaches  out  towards  truth,  hypocrisy  struggles 
against  it.  Not  being  able  to  "live  with  truth,  it 
in  defend  itself  only  by  persecution.  'Ye  seek 
to  kill  me  because  my  wcjrd  hatli  not  free  course  in 

jou'  (S").      The  same   spiiil   i le  their  fathers 

1  ill  the  prophets  as  .-i,  ii:ilin,il  consequence  of  re- 
jecting their  messnuc,  ^nid  n  is  only  another 
hy]5ocrisy  which  makes  tli.'  .l.-dinlants  repudiate 
their  fathers'  deeds  wliilc  clin  i-liing  tlieir  fathers' 
.spirit.  The  justification  for  (In-  terrible  assanlton 
the  Pharisees  in  Mt  'Jo.  is  (h.it,  sitting  in  Moses' 
seat,  they  show  a  .spiiit  with  Mliich  truth  cannot 
dwell.  l''he  deep  shadow  is  .-ijways  in  the  bright 
sunlight,  and  the  dce|i  conn]ilion  is  always  in  the 
place  of  opportunity,  'i'lie  I  'ha  risees  neither  enter 
the  Kingdom  nor  suffer  others  fo  enter.  They  are 
abundantly  zealous,  but  in  a  bad  cause.  They 
pervert  truth,  deliase  it,  fight  against  it.  No 
appeal  can  touch  them,  and  in  the  end  their  house 
is  left  to  them  desolate. 

Then  the  evil  of  hypocrisy  is  more  than  negative. 
It  does  not  stop  with  pretending  to  need  signs, 
while  it  pays  no  attention  to  the  evidence  it  has, 
and  would  be  convinced  by  no  evidence  (Mt  16'' ''). 
Hypocrisy  is  also  an  active  leaven — a  dangerous 
assimilative  principle— against  the  corruption  of 
which  no  warning  can  be  too  ample,     It  is  more 


766 


HYPOCRISY 


HYPOCRISY 


than  the  shadow  of  truth,  the  absence  of  faith.  It 
definitely  works  to  debase  the  whole  man,  just  as 
faith  works  to  regeneiate  hun.  In  addition  to 
refusing  to  enter  in,  it  takes  away  the  key  of 
knowledge  (Lk  IP-).  Against  everything  con- 
nected with  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven  it  is  actively 
hostile. 

In  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount  (Mt  6'*-)  hypocrisy 
is  set  over  against  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven  as  its 
opposite  and  its  negation.  In  the  realm  of  hypoc- 
risy appearances  meet  every  requirement  ;  in  the 
Kingcfom  of  Heaven  all  is  judged  by  the  heart. 
Christ  says,  the  issues  of  life  are  out  of  the  heart 
alone  ;  hypocrisy  says,  they  are  mainly  out  of  cere- 
monies. Of  the  whole  standard  of  the  Kingdom  of 
Heaven  hypocrisy  is  the  daily  practical  denial — its 
broad  result  being  the  external  righteousness  of  tlie 
Scribes  and  Pharisees,  without  exceeding  which  we 
shall  in  no  wise  enter  into  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven. 
So  alien  is  the  whole  unreal  pretence  of  religion, 
that  there  is  a  good  secrecy  at  the  other  extreme 
from  it.  Deliberate  care  must  be  taken  that  one's 
righteousness  be  not  done  in  the  public  eye.  Not 
only  is  no  trumpet  to  be  sounded  before  us  in  the 
street ;  our  piaise  is  not  even  to  iind  an  echo  in 
our  own  heart.  Not  only  may  prayer  never  be 
used  for  show  ;  true  prayer  is  with  ourselves  and 
our  Father  in  secret  alone.  Not  only  may  we  not 
fast  with  a  sad  countenance  ;  the  head  is  to  be 
anointed  and  the  face  washed  as  on  a  day  of 
festival.  Hypocrisy  is  the  opposite  of  that  single- 
ness of  eye  which  tills  the  whole  body  with  light ; 
it  turns  the  light  that  is  in  a  man  to  darkness. 
It  attempts  to  serve  two  masters  while  serving 
none.  It  sees  motes  in  its  brother's  eye  wliile  ignor- 
ing beams  in  its  own.  It  is  in  sheep's  clothing 
without,  and  a  ravening  wolf  within.  It  is  the 
shadow  of  the  light,  tlie  enemy  of  the  truth.  It  is 
most  of  all  hostile  to  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven,  just 
because  that  is  the  fullest  light  and  the  highest 
truth.  Nor  is  that  all.  Hypocrisy,  as  the  opposite 
and  negation  of  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven,  is  as 
ready  to  corrupt  Christianity  as  it  was  to  corrupt 
Judaism.  Even  Christ's  name  it  is  capable  of 
turning  into  a  substitute,  not  a  synonym,  for  the 
will  of  the  Father. 

From  all  other  vices  men  are  delivered  by  the 
life  of  faith.  For  this  reason  our  Lord  never 
directly  assails  vices  of  impulse.  The  publican 
and  the  harlot  He  treated  as  the  lost  sheep  He 
had  come  to  seek.  For  them  He  set  wide  the 
door  of  the  Kingdom.  But  the  door.  He  knew, 
could  never  be  made  so  narrow  that  the  hypocrites 
would  not  at  least  appear  to  enter.  Tlie  new 
hypocrisy  will  be  to  come  in  Christ's  name,  saying, 
'  I  am  he  '  (Mk  13").  Under  that  guise  it  will  hide 
itself  so  dexterously  as  almost  to  deceive  the  elect ; 
and  it  will  use  its  opportunity,  as  hypocrisy  has 
always  done,  to  strangle  truth  by  persecution. 
Just  because  hypocrisy  is  thus  an  enemy  in  the 
camp  poisoniu"  the  wells,  our  Lord  deals  with  it 
openly,  directly,  negatively,  by  tlie  method  of 
denunciation,  as  with  no  other  form  of  evil. 

The  supreme  evil  of  hypocrisy,  as  the  negation 
of  the  life  of  faith,  appears  still  more  clearly  in 
what  our  Lord  .says  about  the  eternal  sin.  In 
John  unbelief  is  spoken  of  as  the  abiding  sin. 
'  For  if  ye  believe  not  that  I  am  lie,  ye  sliall  die 
in  your  sins'  (8-^).  "ifet,  from  the  context,  it  is 
apparent  that  the  abiding  evil  is  not  the  act  of 
unbelief,  but  the  absence  of  all  love  of  the  truth, 
of  which  the  unbelief  is  the  evidence.  Christ 
came  that  the  thoughts  of  many  hearts  should  be 
revealed  (Lk  2*>),  and  those  who  had  cherished 
evil  were  as  conspicuously  displayed  as  those  who 
had  cherished  good.  The  publican  and  the  harlot 
who  had  secretly  thirsted  after  righteousness 
came  to  be  sho\vn  to  have  faith,  though  all  appear- 


ances were  against  tlieni ;  the  Pharisee  who  had 
used  his  religious  position  to  cover  worldly  ends 
was  shown  to  want  it,  though  all  appearances 
were  in  his  favour.  AVhile  the  publican  came  to 
the  light,  the  Pharisee  hated  the  truth  and  sought 
to  repress  it,  and  to  do  so  sought  to  destroy  Him 
who  spoke  the  truth.  Thus  he  showed  himself  of 
his  father  the  devil,  who  from  the  beginning  was  a 
murderer  as  well  as  the  father  of  lies.  Here  in 
John  then  we  have  juggling  with  truth,  hypocrisies 
before  God  and  the  world  and  one's  own  soul,  set 
forth  as  the  cardinal  sin  which  relates  us  as  cer- 
tainly to  the  spirit  of  evil  as  faith  does  to  the 
spirit  of  good,  and  which  works  in  hate,  as  surely 
as  goodness  works  in  love,  and  which  leaves  men 
to  die  in  their  sins,  because  it  is  hostile  to  all  that 
could  lead  to  penitence  and  pardon. 

All  this  is  in  essential  agreement  with  what  the 
Synoptics  say  of  blasphemy  against  the  Holy 
Ghost  (Mt  12~-3',  Mk  3="-*,  Lk  12'-i=).  The 
Pharisees  had  reached  a  turning-point  in  their 
opposition.  They  believed  in  miracles,  they  looked 
for  signs.  The  miracle  could  no  longer  be  ques- 
tioned, but  they  could  call  it  a  sign  of  Beelzebub. 
Though  unable  to  deny  either  the  power  or  the 
beneficence  of  Christ's  work,  being  resolved  not  to 
accept  the  practical  consequences  of  belief,  they 
call  light  darkness  and  good  evil.  The  actual  sin 
against  the  Holy  Ghost,  therefore,  is  possible  only 
when  face  to  face  with  the  highest  thing  in  religion 
and  its  clearest  evidence,  but  the  danger  of  com- 
ing to  that  point  is  present  in  all  hypocrisy. 
Hypocrisy  is  ever  an  overweening  pride,  denying  to 
other  men  the  right  to  truth,  and  to  God  His  power 
to  see ;  and  the  eternal  sin  is  only  the  finished 
result  of  what  is  always  present  in  it.  This  con- 
nexion is  most  evident  in  the  narrative  of  Luke, 
which  begins  with  a  warning  against  the  leaven  of 
the  Pharisees  which  is  hypocrisy.  Nothing,  it  is 
said,  can  be  covered,  and  the  hypocrite  has  power 
to  do  only  one  great  evU — to  associate  others  in 
his  spiritual  destruction.  Faith  in  the  God  who 
cares  even  for  the  sparrow  can  alone  preserve  from 
this  fatal  vice,  a  clear  indication  that  hypocrisy  is 
the  negation  of  faith,  or  at  least  that  faith  is  the 
negation  of  hypocrisy.  The  natural  outcome  of 
faith  is  confession  before  men,  and  the  accompani- 
ment of  that  is  Divine  protection  until  the  day  of 
the  final  award.  On  the  other  hand,  to  follow 
hypocrisy  is  to  go  the  road  that  leads  to  the 
blasphemy^  against  the  Holy  Ghost — the  state  of 
mind  that  has  so  juggled  with  good  and  evil  that 
good  has  no  power  over  it,  the  sin  which  no 
change  of  dispensation,  or  perhaps  nothing  in 
eternity  anj'  more  than  in  time,  can  modify.  This 
may  be  most  apparent  in  Luke,  but  in  Mark  and 
Matthew  also  the  Holy  Spirit  is  the  Spirit  of  truth, 
and  the  sin  which  is  eternal  is  not  an  act  of  over- 
sight or  passion,  but  an  irremediable  state  which 
could  1»  reached  only  by  a  finished,  proud,  and 
tyrannical  hypocrisy.     See  Unpardonable  Sin. 

In  evei-y  form  of  evil,  as  Martensen  rightly 
affirms,  hypocrisy  is  present  in  a  partial  form. 
All  sin  is  egoistic,  yet  every  man  depends  on 
society — the  sinner  not  least.  Under  some  pre- 
tence of  goodness  alone  can  the  egoist  enter 
society.  "The  .seducer  must  swear  false  oaths,  the 
deceiver  feign  friendship,  the  tyrant  profess  care 
for  the  commonweal.  A  finished  life  of  wickedness 
would  be  one  great  lie,  which  would  be  the  only 
ultimate  form  of  atheism.  And  just  because  a 
God  of  truth  cannot  for  ever  be  denied,  hypocrisy 
comes  to  be  more  and  more  a  spirit  of  hatred  and 
opposition  to  truth.  Thus  it  is,  more  even  than 
hnhit,  the  cumulative  element  in  devotion  to  evil. 
It  is  not  only  the  greatest  practical  denial  of  God, 
it  is  also  the  greatest  practical  alienation  from 
God.     To  be  reconciled  to  God  is  primarily  to  be 


HYPOCRISY 


restored  to  tiutli.  Wherefore  liypocrisy  may  be 
taken  not  only  as  the  negation  of  all  Christ  taught 
of  God,  but  also  as  the  negation  of  all  Christ  did  to 
reconcile  men  to  the  Father,  the  negation  of  His 
work  as  a  Saviour  as  well  as  of  His  work  as  a 
Bevealer. 

Throughout  all  the  Christian  centuries,  wherever 
there  has  been  a  lively  sense  of  the  reality  of 
Christianity,  there  has  also  been  a  lively  sense  of 
this  shadow  following  the  sun.  The  classical 
example  of  lying  to  the  Holy  Ghost  found  its 
occasion  in  the  first  Bush  of  the  Church's  faith  and 
love  (Ac  5).  The  first  great  division  of  parties 
arose  through  the  same  vice,  and  arose  almost 
with  the  Church's  beginnings.  The  extreme  bit- 
terness of  the  Judaistic  party  was  nourished  by 
that  external  view  of  religion  which  could  regard 
a  ceremony  as  essential,  and  hatred  as  if  it  were 
godliness.  Even  Barnabas  was  almost  carried 
away  by  their  hypocrisy  (Gal  2'^),  showing  how  the 
vice  seeks  to  deceive,  if  possible,  the  elect ;  while 
their  attempts  to  suppress  Paul  were  limited  only  by 
their  power  and  never  by  their  scruples— showin" 
that  it  is  a  vice  which  always  persecutes  as  well 
as  perverts.  All  the  errors  whicli  cause  men  to  fall 
away  from  the  faith  are,  already  in  the  NT, 
ascribed  to  the  hypocrisy  of  men  that  speak  lies 
(1  Ti  4^).  Regarding  this  root  of  error  in  moral 
falsehood,  and  not  in  mere  intellectual  mistake, 
much  might  be  said,  but  it  must  suffice  to  mention 
what  Augustine  says  of  Manichi-eism.  Long  his 
difficulties  seemed  to  him  intellectual  perplexity 
about  the  origin  of  evil.  When,  however,  he  saw 
that  wickedness  was  no  substance,  but  a  perversity 
of  the  will,  he  discovered  the  true  root  of  the  error. 


'  They  preferred  to  think  Thy  substance  did  suffer 
ill,  tluiu  that  their  own  did  commit  it'  (Conf.  vii.  4). 

That,  as  our  Lord  predicted,  hypocrisy  has  con- 
tinuetl  to  work  under  the  New  Dispensation  as 
under  the  Old,  may  be  seen  from  the  state  of  things 
in  the  Eastern  Church  as  pictured  by  Eustathius,  in 
the  Western  as  drawn  by  Dante  and  Chaucer,  and 
in  later  times  as  reflected  in  a  literature  too  abun- 
dant and  familiar  to  require  to  be  named. 

Literature. — Hamburger,  RE^  18S4,  art.  'Heuchelei,'  vol.  i. 
p.  615 ;  Cremer,  BM.-Tlicol.  WiirterbucK^  p.  627 ;  L.  Lenime, 
Die  Silndc  wider  den  Ueitifjcn  Geist,  1SS3,  and  art.  '  Heuchelei ' 
in  PRE^  ;  J.  M.  Schulhof,  The  Law  of  Fomiceness  as  presented 
in  the  NT,  1901,  pp.  43-48 ;  Martensen,  Christian  Ethics,  Ist 
Div.  'Individual  Ethics,'  1881  [Eng.  tr.],  pp.  114-118;  Emtathii 
Opuscula,  ed.  by  Tafel ;  Exiles  of  Eternity,  by  J.  S.  Carroll, 
1903 ;  llozley,  Unic.  Serm.  Serm.  U. ;  Seeley,  Ecce  Homo,  116if., 

253  ff.  John  Oman. 

HTSSOP  (31IX,  uffo-uiros)  is  twice  mentioned  in  the 
NT  (Jn  19»,  He  9").  Wo  know  that  it  was  used 
for  sprinkling  (Ex  12~),  and  that  it  grew  on  walls 
(1  K  4^3).  By  Tristram  it  is  identified  with  the 
caper-plant  {C'apparis  spinosa) ;  and  this  view  is 
very  generally  accepted.  It  is  ojien,  however,  to 
the  serious  objection  that  the  caper  is  not  well 
adapted  for  use  as  a  sprinkler.  Many  still  favour 
the  opinion  of  Maimonides  that  it  was  the  m  tar  of 
the  Arabs.  This  plant,  which  '  springs  out  of  the 
walls,  those  of  the  garden  especially'  (Thomson, 
LB  p.  112),  is  a  species  of  Satureia.  In  Morocco, 
the  name  sa'tar  is  given  to  marjoram  (Orirfrimim). 
Carruther.s'  (Bible  Educator,  iv.  ^26)  suggests  that 
hyssop  was  a  name  applied  to  various  plants  of  the 
genera  Thymus,  Origanus,  and  others  nearly  allied 
in  form  and  habit.  The  balance  of  probability  is  in 
favour  of  this  view.  Hugh  Duncan. 


IDEAL. — The  word  'ideal'  does  not  occur  in 
EV  of  the  NT,  nor  is  there  any  term  in  the  Gr. 
text  which  exactly  corresponcls  to  the  general 
notion  of  the  English  word.*  The  subject  of  the 
highest  good  or  moral  ideal,  however,  is  one  that 
is  constantly  present  in  the  teaching  of  Christ, 
and  is  wonderfully  illuminated  by  His  own  charac- 
ter and  life  and  influence  in  hiunan  history.  An 
ideal  may  be  defined  as  a  mental  conception  taken 
as  a  standard  of  absolute  perfection.  The  word  is 
used  with  regard  to  various  kinds  of  excellence. 
There  are  intellectual  and  aesthetic  ideals  as  well 
as  those  which  are  properly  to  be  described  as 
moral.  But  it  is  to  the  realm  of  moral  worth 
that  the  notion  of  the  ideal  is  peculiarly  appro- 
priated, and  it  is  with  the  moral  ideal  alone  that 
we  are  at  present  concerned. 

In  the  history  of  Ethics,  discussion  has  always 
centred  in  this  question  of  the  ideal,  the  s^immum 
bununi,  the  'chief  end  of  man.'  Aristotle  lie-ins 
his  Nicom.  Etliir.i  (i.  i.  1)  by  describing  the  good  as 
that  at  which  all  aim,  and  he  goes  on  to  say  (I. 
ii.  2) :  '  And,  like  archers,  shall  we  not  be  more 
likely  to  attain  what  is  right  if  we  have  a  mark 
((7K07r6s)  ? '  This  ff/foTris,  the  target  or  goal  of  human 
endeavour,  is  just  the  ideal.  Aristotle  takes  the 
human  o-icoxds  to  be  happiness,  which  he  defines  as 
'  the  active  exercise  of  man's  living  powers,  according 
to  their  highest  virtue,  in  a  life  attording  full  room 

*  The  translators  of  the  Twentieth  Cent.  XT  render  Eph  41Sb 
'  until  we  reach  the  perfection  of  manhood  and  that  degree  of 
development  of  which  the  ideal  to  be  found  in  the  Clhrist  is  the 
standard.'  But  this  is  a  paraphrase  rather  than  a  translation  of 
the  original. 


for  their  development '  (I.  vii.  15).  It  is  a  striking 
coincidence  that  the  only  occasion  on  which  the 
word  ffKoTfos  is  found  in  the  NT  is  in  the  saying  of 
St.  Paul,  '  I  press  toward  the  mark  {(TKo-n-ds)  for  the 
prize  of  the  high  calling  of  God  in  Christ  Jesus' 
(Ph  31^).  The  Christian  ideal  of  St.  Paul  was  very 
diflerent  from  the  pagan  one  of  the  Stagirite.  But 
the  Apostle,  no  less  than  the  philosopher,  recognized 
the  necessity  of  an  ideal,  and  its  power  to  shape  the 
whole  conduct  of  life. 

It  would  be  interesting  to  discriminate  the 
various  ideals  or  ultimate  moral  aims  which,  in 
the  progress  of  the  world's  history,  have  been 
advocated  by  the  representatives  of  the  leading 
religious  or  philosophical  systems.  These  ideals, 
however,  do  not  directly  concern  us  here.  It  will 
be  sufficient  in  the  course  of  the  article  to  refer  to 
them  in  passing,  when  they  serve,  by  way  of  con- 
trast, to  bring  more  clearly  into  view  the  distinctive 
features  of  the  Chri>tian  ill.:il.  Apiilying  ourselves 
to  a  .special  ccmsidir.ui'iii  of  the  latter,  we  shall 
deal  with  it  (1)  .is  it  is  srt  forth  in  the  teaching  of 
Christ,  (2)  as  it  is  embodied  historically  in  His 
own  person,  (3)  as  it  is  made  real  in  human  experi- 
ence through  His  constraining  power. 

i.  The  Ideal  as  set  forth  in  the  teaching 
OF  Christ.— One  great  fault  of  all  non-Christian, 
or  pre-Christian,  or  imperfectly  Christian  ideals  is 
their  narrowness  or  one-sidedness :  they  ignore 
whole  departments  of  the  kinjrdom  of  moral  worth, 
and  do  justice  to  one  part  of  luiman  nature  at  the 
expense  of  the  rest.  In  contrast  with  this,  the 
Christian  ideal,  as  we  meet  it  in  Christ's  teaching, 
strikes  us   by  its  comprehensiveness  and  perfect 


IDEAL 


balance.  A  consideration  of  the  fullowing  iiarticu- 
lars  may  serve  to  bring  out  this  rounded  symmetry 
of  the  Christian  conception  of  the  liit;hest  good. 

1.  It  is  an  ideal  of  blesscdmsn  (ittuincd  tlirotirjh 
perfection  of  character. — Pojju  invokes  happiness 
as  '  our  being's  end  and  aim  .  .  .  for  which  we  bear 
to  live,  or  dare  to  die'  (Epistle,  iv.  Iff.).  And 
Herbert  Spencer,  in  his  Data  of  Ethics  (p.  46), 
affirms  that  'no  school  can  avoid  taking  for  the 
ultimate  moral  aim  a  desirable  state  of  feeling, 
called  1>y  whatever  name— gratification,  enjoyment, 
happiness.'  Newman  Smyth  criticises  Spencer's 
statement  as  a  confusion  between  the  form  and  the 
,iubstance  of  the  moral  intuition  (Christian  Ethics, 
p.  86  f.).  But  if  the  conception  of  hap|)iness  is 
enlarged  so  as  to  include  the  apjiropriate  Christian 
contents,  if  blessedness  (wh.  see),  in  other  words, 
is  taken  as  the  NT  synonym  of  happiness,  little 
fault  can  be  found  with  the  language  of  either  the 
poet  or  the  philosopher.  The  Westminster  Divines 
were  very  far  from  being  mere  Eudannonists,  but 
in  the  first  question  of  the  Shorter  Catechism  they 
define  '  man  s  chief  end '  as  consisting  in  this — '  to 
glorify  God,  and  to  enjoy  Him  for  ever.'  If  happi- 
ness IS  not  the  very  substance  of  the  Christian 
ideal,  it  is  none  the  less,  as  Dr.  Smyth  himself 
says,  '  its  natural  result  and  its  necessary  form '  (op. 
cit.  p.  119).  By  beginning  His  Sermon  on  the 
Mount  with  His  great  series  of  Beatitudes  (Mt  5'"-, 
cf.  Lk  6™'^-),  Jesus  places  the  ideal  of  blessedness 
in  the  forefront  of  His  teaching.  So  far,  therefore, 
we  may  say  He  is  on  the  side  of  the  Eudaemonists 
as  against  all  who  have  sought  to  set  up  a  hard 
abstract  ideal  of  duty  as  the  moral  aim.  But  note 
the  content  of  Christ's  ideal,  and  it  will  be  seen 
at  once  how  far  removed  it  is  from  ordinary  Utili- 
tarianism. The  blessedness  of  whirh  lie' s]ieaks 
belongs  to  a  character  distiTiuui-lna  l,y  mrckiir,-, 
mercy,  purity  of  heart,  and  similar  >|iirilual  ■(iiaii- 
ties  (Mt  5'-'-)— a  character  whirl i  limU  it-stamlurd 
not  in  human  perfection  merely,  Imi  in  iioihing  less 
than  the  perfection  of  the  lha\riily  lailuT  Him- 
self (v.-").  In  its  form  of  lik'^-.din' .>.  hajipiness 
is  to  be  desired  by  Christ's  disciiiles ;  but  only 
through  perfection  of  character  can  this  happiness 
come.  No  man  will  find  delight  in  that  vision  of 
God  which  Jesus  promises  (v."),  no  man  will  'enjoy 
God,'  unless  a  resemblance  to  the  perfection  of  the 
'  FathLT  wliicli  is  in  heaven  '  has  been  growing  up 
within  his  heart. 

2.  II  !.■'  an  ideal  of  natural  as  well  as  spiritual 
rrood.  —  Even  when  it  is  fully  recognized  that 
blessedness  belongs  to  the  Christian  ideal,  this 
lilesseilness  is  sometimes  conceived  of  too  narrowly. 
Not  only  is  the  spiritual  set  aliove  the  natural,  as  it 
ought  to  be,  but  thr.  natmal  i^  Ijimred  or  despised 
and  then  refused  it-  pi  m,  .  .  ., 
inherent  fault  of  all  in^ 
or  Christian.  Now  <'l.' 
spiritual  above  the  nat 
ness  depend,  as  we  have  seen,  upon  inward  qualities. 
Moreover,  He  taught  that  His  disciples  must  be 
ready  to  make  any  sacrilice — to  cut  off  hand  or 
foot,  to  pluck  out  the  right  eye— for  the  sake  of 
entering  into  life  (Mt  5'^-'"  18'»-»  ||  Mk  9«f),  and 
that  a  man  was  nothing  profited  if  he  gained  the 
whole  world  and  lost  l,is  own  -..nl  (i\It  16=«).  But 
the  blessedness  He  laiMs  l.rfor,-  Hi,  followers  is  by 
no  means  a  purely  s|Miiiual  Ihiir  .  The  Beatitude 
of  the  meek  is  that  Ih.y  -hall  ii.li.  lit  the  earth  (Mt 
S').  The  petition  for  daily  bread  is  enshrined  in 
the  very  heart  of  the  Lord's  Prayer  (6'"- ").  And 
when  Jesus  comes  to  speak  more  particularly  of 
food  and  raiment,  the  very  things  wliich  are  most 
fundamental  to  our  natural  life  in  this  world,  while 
He  forbids  anxiety  regarding  them,  the  reason 
given  is  not  that  they  are  unworthy  of  a  Christian's 
thought  and  care,  but  that '  all  these  things  shall 


This  is  the 
1  ,  Nvhether  pagan 
II inly  exalted  the 
He  made  blessed- 


be  added '  unto  those  who  seek  first  the  Kingdom  of 
God  and  His  righteousness  (6^"^^). 

3.  It  is  an  ideal  of  social  well-being  attained 
through  individual  worth. — That  the  ideal  of  Jesus 
was  a  social  one  it  is  impossible  to  doubt.  Deeply 
as  He  impressed  upon  His  hearers  the  unspeakable 
value  of  the  individual  life  or  soul  (Mt  lU^"'-  16-'", 
Lk  I5'"''-  etc.).  He  never  said  anything  to  justify  a 
religious  individualism  which  concerns  itself  only 
with  personal  salvation.  The  very  fact  that  '  the 
kingdom  of  God '  (wh.  see)  is  the  phrase  by  which 
He  most  frequently  refers  to  His  moral  ideal,  shows 
that  it  was  an  ideal  of  social  good.  In  this  He  was 
coming,  so  far,  into  touch  with  the  prevalent  Jewish 
conceptions  of  His  time  ;  for  it  was  a  social,  not 
an  individual  good  for  which  Israel  looked.  But 
whereas  the  Jews  conceived  of  this  social  good  on 
purely  national  lines,  Jesus  enlarged  the  bounds  of 
the  blessed  society  so  as  to  make  room  in  it  for 
men  of  all  nations.  'They  shall  come,'  He  said, 
'  from  the  east  and  west,  and  from  the  north  and 
south,  and  shall  sit  down  in  the  kingdom  of  God ' 
(Lk  13-1*,  Mt  8").  Yet  while  His  moral  ideal  takes 
not  only  a  social  form,  but  one  of  universal  breadth. 
He  always  taught  that  it  must  be  through  making 
its  power  felt  in  the  individual  heart  that  the 
Kingdom  of  God  would  be  realized  upon  earth. 
This  was  where  His  teaching  ditl'ered  so  greatly 
from  the  contemporary  Jewish  expectation,  and 
from  the  thoughts  of  many  in  modern  times  who 
have  been  seized  by  the  greatness  of  Christ's  social 
purposes  without  grasping  the  individuality  and 
spirituality  of  His  methods.  The  Kingdom  of  God 
in  popular  Jewish  hope  was  an  exaltation  of  Israel 
brought  about  by  deeds  like  those  of  Judas  Macca- 
ba'us.  The  Kingdom  of  God  in  the  vision  of  many 
earnest  dreamers  and  workers  of  our  own  days  is 
I  he  result  of  a  social  revolution  brought  about  by 
l"ilitiial  activity.  According  to  Christ's  teaching, 
the  Kingdom  of  God  can  come  only  through  the 
regeneration  of  individual  hearts.  '  The  kingdom 
of  God  Cometh  not  with  observation,'  He  said, 
' .  .  .  for,  behold,  the  kingdom  of  God  is  within 
you '  (Lk  17"°-  -').  That  this,  and  not  the  marginal 
readings  '  among  you '  [AV],  '  in  the  midst  of  you ' 
[RV],  is  the  proper  rendering,  seems  to  be  confirmed 
by  the  second  of  the  '  New  Sayings  of  Jesus '  dis- 
ci .vorrTl  by  Grenfell  and  Hunt  (cf.  p.  770"  below). 
And  lie  smnniril  nji  the  whole  matter  when  He 
srt  a  little  rliiM  in  the  midst  and  said,  'Except  ye 
turn  and  liiMiimr  as  little  children,  ye  shall  in  no 
wise  enter  into  the  kingdom  of  heaven'  (Mt  18'  jl ; 
cf.  Jn  3»). 

i.  The  ideal  is  at  once  a  reality  in  the  present 
and  a.  promise  for  the  fnture. — There'are  those  who 
look  fur  their  niiiiiiiiinii  honum  in  the  present  hour, 
anil  wlioM-  pliiki-npliy  uf  life  w-as  long  ago  summed 
up  in  the  >:i\!ii-.  ■  IjI  us  eat  and  drink;  for  to- 
morrow «.■  ,lii-  1 1  Cu  15^-,  cf.  Is  22"S)._  There  are 
otiii-is  ajaiii  «lin  lia\e,  not  unjustly,  incurred  the 
cliai'je  111  ■■illin  w.nlilliness,'  because  they  have 
ili'-liisril  ( iu.l's  j.ic-iail  mercies  and  neglected  their 
own  urgent  duties,  while  fixing  their  thoughts  upon 
the  hope  of  future  blessings  and  rewards.  But  in 
the  teaching  of  Jesus  the  ideal  good  is  at  once 
realized  in  the  present  and  consummated  in  the 
future.  On  the  one  hand.  He  proclaims  that  the 
Kingdom  of  God  is  not  merely  coming,  but  already 
come  (Mt  12^,  cf.  Mk  P") ;  it  is  set  up  here  and 
now  within  the  individual  heart  (IJc  17"') ;  its 
Beatitudes  are  present  realitirs  (Mt  .'■'-"  ;  note  not 
only  the  recurring 'BlessiN I  .nv  I  li.  y,  yr,' etc.,  but 
vv.s-i"  'theirs  is  [iaTlv]  t\u-  l.iir.  Jmim  of  heaven'). 
On  the  other  hand,  He  eiin-.tanily  tan-ht  His  dis- 
ciples to  look  to  the  future  for  the  complete  and 
perfect  form  of  the  Kingdom  and  its  blessedness. 
His  use  of  the  phrase  '  kingdom  of  heaven '  as  an 
alternative  expression  for  '  kingdom  of  God '  (and 


IDEAL 


IDEAS  (LEADING) 


r69 


the  evidence  of  the  First  Gospel  points  to  the 
former  as  being  the  more  habitual  term  on  His 
lijis),  though  it  refers  primarily,  no  doubt,  to  the 
spirituality  of  the  Kingdom  as  coming  from  above 
and  having  its  true  home  in  the  supersensible  world, 
is  surely  not  without  its  future  reference.  This 
Kingdom,  which  is  heavenly  in  its  origin  and  aims,  is 
and  must  be  heavenly  also  in  its  end.  Christ's  whole 
eschatological  teaching,  and  especially  everything 
that  gathers  round  the  thought  of  tlie  Parousia, 
when  all  that  is  evil  shall  be  cast  out  of  the  King- 
dom (Mt  13''"-  ■''>'■  2'2'^  25^"),  and  the  faithful  servant 
shall  enter  into  the  joy  of  his  Lord  (25-'-  ^),  points 
to  the  same  conclusion.  And  if  we  are  not  to  reject 
the  evidence  of  the  Fourth  Gospel,  with  re.spect 
even  to  its  testimony  as  to  the  leading  ideas  in  our 
Lord's  teaching,  the  fact  that  in  it  '  eternal  life ' 
takes  the  central  place  which  in  the  Synoptics  is 
held  by  '  the  kingdom  of  God '  points  once  more  to 
a  future  reference  in  Christ's  ideal.  For  though 
futurity  and  everlastingness  are  not  the  funda- 
mental conceptions  in  the  category  of  eternal  life, 
they  are  certainly  necessary  for  the  completeness 
of  that  life  which  Je.sus  promised  to  His  disciples 
as  their  highest  good. 

ii.  The  Ideal  as  embodied  historically  in 
THE  Person  of  Christ.— So  far,  we  have  been 
thinking  of  the  Christian  ideal  as  set  forth  in  our 
Lord's  teaching.  But  now  we  must  notice  the  fact 
that  Jesus  not  only  exjjounded  an  ideal,  but  real- 
ized it  historically  in  His  own  person.  It  is  here 
that  the  Christian  ideal  differs  specifically  from  the 
loftiest  ideals  of  the  philosophers  and  moralists  ;  it 
is  an  ideal  which  was  once  made  actual  in  a  human 
life.  Jesus  not  only  taught,  but  wcis.  He  brought 
down  the  ideal  out  of  the  region  of  dreams,  and 
hopes,  and  words  into  the  world  of  positive  realities. 
In  His  owTi  history  He  showed  how  blessedness 
might  be  attained  tlirough  moral  perfection  ;  how 
the  life  of  highest  spirituality  might  prove  to  be 
the  life  of  widest  social  beneficence ;  now  it  was 
possible,  while  enjoying  all  natural  blessings  as 
gifts  from  the  heavenly  Father's  hand,  to  place 
obedience  to  the  Father's  will  above  everything 
else ;  how  the  narrow  path  of  present  duty  might 
be  illuminated  by  the  splendours  of  the  eternal 
world,  while  the  assurance  of  something  yet  more 
glorious  than  now  appeared  might  thrill  the  heart 
of  the  faithful  wayfarer. 

1.  Jesus  Christ  is  the  Ideal  Man. — His  character 
is  not  merely  perfect  in  some  aspects,  but  perfect 
in  all — so  rounded  and  complete  as  to  become  an 
ideal  for  the  woman  as  well  as  for  the  man,  for  the 
Greek  as  well  as  for  the  Jew,  for  tlie  modern  as 
well  as  for  the  ancient  world.  He  is  not  merely 
free  from  flaws,  but  full  of  vital  and  creative 
forces ;  His  perfection  is  that  not  of  a  marble 
image,  but  of  a  living  spirit.  This  is  the  verdict  of 
history,  the  verdict  of  all  who  simply  read  and 
ponder  the  records  of  His  life.  Even  those  who  do 
not  believe  Him  to  be  more  than  man  join  without 
demur  in  the  universal  chorus  of  acclamation. 
They  acknowledge  that  Jesus  stands  alone  in  His 
moral  grandeur  as  the  incarnation  of  personal 
human  worth,  and  that  the  historical  Christ  is  the 
ideal  of  humanity. 

2.  As  an  Ideal,  Christ  becomes  an  Example  (wh. 
see). — For  whatever  it  may  be  in  other  spheres,  in 
the  moral  world,  at  all  events,  ideals,  from  the 
nature  of  the  case,  are  not  merely  standards  of  an 
abstract  perfection,  but  goals  after  which  we  must 
strive,— targets,  to  use  Aristotle's  figure,  at  which 
we  aim  and  shoot  those  arrows  of  the  soul  which 
are  the  living  energies  of  our  moral  being.  Jesus 
never  set  Himself  before  men's  eyes  as  a  beautiful 
but  impossible  ideal.  He  claimed  to  be  an  example 
(Mt  11-'"  20=i'-=8||Lk  22=7,  Jn  IS'^-^  15'=).  As  such 
He  was  taken  by  His  first  disciples  (1  P  2-').     And 

VOL.  I.— 49 


St.  Paul,  who  saw  the  perfect  and  ideal  man  in  the 
measure  of  the  stature  of  the  fulness  of  Christ  (Eph 
4''),  never  doubted  that  the  perfection  of  manhood 
which  was  found  in  Christ  was  something  to  be  per- 
sonally striven  after.  That  was  the  <r/coir6s  of  the 
long  race.  On  that  the  Christian  must  fix  his  eyes, 
towards  that  he  must  constantly  press,  if  he  would 
attain  to  the  prize  of  the  high  calling  of  God  in 
Christ  Jesus  (Ph  3"'-).  See  also  Perfection  (of 
Jesus). 
iii.  The  realization  of  the  Ideal  through 

THE  constraining  POWER  OF  CHRIST.— We  have 
seen  that  Christ  in  His  teaching  holds  up  an  ideal, 
that  He  embodies  this  ideal  historically  in  His  own 
person,  and  sets  it  before  us  as  an  example  which  we 
must  strive  to  follow.  But  to  weak  and  sinful  men 
and  women  this  jiresentation  by  word  and  deed  of 
a  perfect  moral  ideal  would  be  little  else  than  a 
mockery,  if  Christ  did  nothing  more  than  otter  us 
an  outward  standard  aftci-  which  we  -ttcre  to  strive. 
It  is  in  a  far  deeper  srn^c  tli;ui  this  that  He  Ls  the 
Christian  ideal.  In  hi>  i.liih.us  theory  of  Ideas, 
Plato  conceived  of  thr  lilr:il  ( Imul  :us  an  archetypal 
essence  which  becomes  an  cttiticnt  cau.se,  imparting 
to  individuals  a  share  of  its  own  being,  as  the  sun 
imparts  '  vitality,  growth,  and  nutriment '  to  the 
creatures  on  which  its  rays  fall  {Bcp.  vi.  509).  And 
it  is  in  this  vital  and  archetyi)al  manner  that  Jesus 
becomes  the  moral  ideal  of  the  human  race.  He 
gives  what  He  commands,  and  so  lias  a  right  to 
command  what  He  wills.  We  have  constant  illus- 
trations in  the  Gospels  of  this  constraining  power 
of  the  Ideal  Goodness  as  it  is  presented  to  men  and 
women  in  the  person  of  Christ.     The  sinful  woman 


in   the  house  of  Simon   the  Pharisee  (Lk 


Zacchaius,  the  grasping  publican  of  Jericho  (ig'"'"), 
Matthew,  leaving  the  receipt  of  custom  to  become 
an  Apostle  (Mt  9"||),  may  serve  as  examples.  The 
author  of  the  Fourth  Gospel  sums  up  the  whole 
matter  for  us  when  he  says  :  'As  many  as  received 
him,  to  them  gave  he  power  to  become  the  sons  of 
God '  (Jn  1'-).  And  to  St.  Paul,  who  brooded  much 
over  this  mystery  of  Christ  as  it  had  been  revealed 
to  him  in  a  profound  personal  experience,  the  secret 
of  spiritual  life  and  growth  presented  itself  as  an 
unfolding  of  the  Christ-nature  implanted  by  the 
agency  of  the  Holy  Spirit  in  the  believer's  soiJ. 
'  Christ  in  you,'  he  says,  '  the  hope  of  glory '  (Col 
1") ;  and  again,  '  I  live ;  and  yet  no  longer  I,  but 
Christ  liveth  in  me'  (Gal  2=").  And  when  in  another 
place  he  describes  believers  as  '  foreordained  to  be 
conformed  to  the  image  of  his  Son,  that  he  might 
be  the  firstborn  among  many  brethren '  (Ko  8="),  he 
suggests  a  figure  which  helps  us  to  understand  how 
Christ  the  ideal  is  not  merely  an  outward  type  but 
an  inward  archetype.  The  younger  brothers  of  a 
house  are  conformed  to  the  likeness  of  the  firstborn 
not  so  much  by  personal  imitation  as  by  the  opera- 
tion of  secret  and  vital  forces  which  spring  from 
the  very  fact  of  their  birth  as  members  of  a  partic- 
ular family,  and  which  lie  far  deeper  than  the 
workings  of  the  individual  will.  And  so  it  is  as 
between  Christ  and  His  people.  '  For  both  he  that 
sanctifieth,'  says  another  NT  writer,  'and  they 
that  are  sanctified  are  all  of  one  :  for  which  cause 
he  is  not  ashamed  to  call  them  brethren'  (He  2"). 


art.,  mention  may  be  made 
i.  chs.  i.-vi.  ;  Martensen,  Clir.  Ethics,  i.  147-343 ;  Green,  Prole- 
gomena, bks.  iii.-iv.  ;  Shairj),  essay  on  '  The  Moral  Motive 
Power '  in  Studies  in  Poetry  and  Philosophy. 

J.  C.  Lambert. 
IDEAS  (LEADING).— The  leading  ideas  of  our 
Lord  may  be  divided  into  two  classes.  Moral  and 
Religious.  This  is  not  an  artificial  division :  it 
corresponds  to  two  stages  in  His  ]niblic  teaching 
which  are  very  clearly  marked  in  the  Gospels. 
The  earlier  stage  is  prevailingly  ethical,  and  finds 


IDEAS  (LEADING) 


IDEAS  (LEADING) 


r  if^.)  i: 


its  most  characteristic  utterance  in  the  Sermon  on 
the  Mount.     The  later  is,  in  comparison,  distinct- 
ively ieli<nous,  and  deals  with  the  relation  of  Ood 
to  man.   ^Yet  we  are  not  to  separate  the  two  ele-     ^^^^     ^^^^^^^^^,  ^ 
raents,  for  they  inter-penetrate  one  another.     1  Uej  ,  ^^.^^^  ^^,,^^^  „„  „, 
are  inter-dependent,  and  form  together  an  organic     Saying,  and  in^a 
whole. 

i.  Moral  ideas. 

1.  The  Kingdom. 

•'.  The  Pure  Heart. 

3.  The  Inanite  Value  of  the  1 

4.  The  Law  of  Love. 
6.  The  Universality  of  Love. 

6.  The  Great  Example. 

7.  Self-renunciation, 
ii.  Religious  ideas.     ,    .  „   ^ 

1.  The  Fatherhood  of  God. 

2.  The  Son. 

3.  Faith. 


i  MoE.\L  IDEAS.— 1.  The  Kingdom.— This  idea 
must  he  placed  first  on  account  of  its  position  in 
our  Lord's  teaching.  '  Repent  ye ;  for  the  king- 
dom of  heaven  is  at  hand,'  was  the  message  of  tlie 
Baptist  and  the  first  public  utterance  of  Jesus  ( \lt 
4"  Mk  1^*).  From  the  beginnmg  the  idea  ot  t  le 
Kiiigdom  may  be  traced  throughout  the  Gospels, 
and  everywhere  it  wUl  be  found  to  indicate  the 
supreme  "blessing  which  comes  to  man  from  God. 
InSit  it  is  usually  termed  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven. 
Elsewhere  the  phrase  Kingdom  of  God  is  uniformly 
employed. 

The  idea  of  a  Kingdom  of  God  does  not  appear  first  in  the 
nJ  In  the  OT,  the°soverei|nt.v  of  God  is  -'""damental  con- 
ception. Jehovah  was  regarded  as  hin?  over  His  chosen  people. 
isSWas  a  theocracy.  Always,  whether  under  judges,  kings 
prophets,  or  priests,  the  human  leaders  were  looked  upon  as 
Representatives  or  agents  of  Jehovah,  the  true  king..  The 
SralJ^ndoncy  was^to^regard  this  as  the  exxU^ive  pri.lege 

of  God.     In  the  Book 


regard  this 
of  the  chosen  people.     Nevertheless 

the  vision  of  a  great  world-wide  Kin;  .   ^  .„ 

of  Daniel  esiwcTallv  we  find  how,  to  the  prophetic  mind,  there 

r^  r  ovi^nfrz  ^^'if^  %^r:::'sl  dXlr^th'-e 

VittPr  of  the^e  two  passages  is  especiallv  important,  because 
ron  it  most  proCa?ly,  our  Lord^adopted  the  title  'Son  of 
Man  •  b V  which  He  usuallv  described  Himself.  It  was  therefore 
fpLake  much  in  His  thoughts,  and  it  i^^^'^'^'-';''-'^  n^^'*"' '» 
believe  that,  as  He  proclaimed  'the  kingdom.  He  had  not 
cleirly  in  mind  the  words  'His  dominion  is  an  everlasting 
dominion,  which  shaU  not  pass  away,  and  his  kingdom  that 
which  shall  not  be  destroyed.' 

It  is  plain  that  among  the  Jews  in  our  Lord's 
time  there  was  a  widely  spread  expectation  of 
some  great  person  who  was  to  be  leader  ot  the 
chosen  people,  and  through  whom  that  people 
were  to  l.e  -tal.lwh.d  as  a  great  world-power. 
The  Jews  of  iiihi  :iu'  »'ix'  looking  for  a  kingdom. 
And  to  till-Ill  r.iiiii'  -I"!!"  the  Baptist  and  then 
Jesus  of  Nazareth,  [.r.  .claiming  the  coming  of  a 
Kingdom.  As  our  Lord's  iiiinistiy  and  teaching 
developed,  He  made  it  quite  .  h-.u  that  the  King- 
dom He  proclaimed  wa-s  very  .liii.T.nt  trom  the 
kingdom  of  popular  expectations,  ^ct  the  two 
conceptions  cannot  be  wholly  unrelated.  Uur  Lord 
woulcf  not  have  used  the  popular  language  if  His 
meaning  had  no  relation  to  the  ideas  of  the  popular 

This  consideration  is  important,  because  of  late 
years  there  have  been  ettbrts  to  show  that  the 
Kingdom,  as  conceived  by  our  Lord,  had  no  social 
content  whatever  ;  that,  by  the  Kingdom  of  God, 
He  meant  a  spiritual  illumination  in  the  heart  of 
the  individual  (Harnack,  Jl'^a?  is  Christianitj/ ? 
Lect  iii  He  holds  that  our  Lord  shared  the 
eschatological  ideas  of  the  Jews  of  His  time^.  but 
that  the  es-sence  of  His  teaching  is  that  the  King- 
dom is  the  rule  of  God  in  the  heart  of  the  indi- 
^-idual)  This  view  rests  mainly  on  a  single  text, 
Lk  17='  'The  kingdom  of  God  is  within  you, 
and  is  supported  by  the  consideration  that  the 
primary  meaning  of  the  word  which  is  translated 
'  kmgdom,'  j3a<ri\eCo,  is  '  rule '  or  '  dominion. 


a)  •  The  kingdom  of  God  is  within  you 

of  being  translated,  '  The  kingdom  of  God 

is  in  bue  lu.^.  .,.  .^u,'  and  this  rendering  suits  the  context 

better  than  any  other,  for  the  saying  was  addressed  to  the 

Pharisees      But  it  must  be  granted  that  the  •  New  Sayings  of 

tlv  discovered  by  Grenfell  and  Hunt,  have  thrown 

question.    The  words  occur  in  the  Second 

inexion  which  precludes  the  translation    in 

the  midst  of  vou.'    '  The  kingdom  of  heaven  is  within  you,  and 

whoever  shall  know  himself  shall  find  it.'    This  is,  at  least,  a 

very  eariy  witness  to  the  sense  attached  to  the  words  m  prum- 

But  we  cannot  found  our  interpretation  of  our 
Lord's  teaching  on  a  single  passage,  especially 
when  we  are  dealing  with  a  leading  conception 
which  was  always  more  or  less  in  His  mind,  borne 
of  the  parables  which  were  intended  to  throw  light 
on  the  nature  of  the  Kingdom,  e.g-.  the  Mustard 
Seed,  the  Tares  and  the  Wheat,  the  Draw-net 
seem  explicable  only  on  the  understanding  that 
the  Kingdom  was  regarded  as  a  \-isible  community. 
The  only  way  of  combining  the  two  elements 
which  seems  to  be  truly  satisfactory,  is  to  regard 
the  Kingdom  as  the  rule  of  God,  whether  m  the 
individual  or  in  the  community.  It  is  then  the 
Siunmum  Bonum,  the  Absolute  Good  m  which 
both  the  individual  and  the  community  hnd  their 
realization.  It  is  thus  both  a  present  blessing 
and  an  ideal  to  guide  all  future  development. 
It  is  realized  here  and  now  whenever  man 
stands  in  a. right  relation  to  God  and  to  his 
feUows.  Its  perfect  realization  belongs  to  the 
oreat  future  :  it  is  the  end  to  which  all  creation 
and  all  history  are  tending.  The  Kmgdom  as  a 
conception  is  thus  at  once  moral,  social,  religious, 
and  eschatological.  AU  these  aspects  are  dis- 
tinctly visible  in  our  Lord's  teaching,  and  all  are 
harmonized  by  the  view  which  ha^  just  been 
adopted.  We  are  now  concerned  with  the  moral 
aspect  of  this  gxeat  idea.  .,  .    ht^. 

The  Sermon  on  the  Mount,  as  we  have  it  m  Mt., 
must  be  taken  as  the  fullest  statement  of  our 
Lord's  moral  teaching.  Whether  it  be  accepted  as 
a  single  discourse,  or  be  regarded  as  a  collection  of 
sayings,  the  unity  which  pervades  it  and  its  per- 
fect harmony  with  the  rest  of  our  Lords  utter- 
ances are  manifest.  Its  place  in  the  gospel  of  the 
Kino-dom,  as  proclaimed  by  our  Lord,  is  clearly 
defined.  The  Sermon  is  a  statement  of  the  Lmv 
of  the  Kingdom. 

This  is  evident  from  Mt  6ir»,  in  «hich  a  general  principle 
concerning  the  ethical  relation  of  the  gospel  to  the  Mosa^  I^» 
is  laid  down,  and  from  vv.2i-i.^.  in  which  several  important 
Illustrations  of  the  practical  application  of  this  new  principle 
are  given.  Mt  61-33  and  7-^-^  agree  with  this  view  of  the  nature 
of  the  Sermon.  In  the  former  passage,  the  whole  subject  of 
rewards  and  motives  is  dealt  with,  and  the  end  w^li''  >; '" 

rs;:;;^r^^^tf^'^ra:s:^?"-(vvj"% 
E^%(k"it  zitrpU-»^.Ui^^^^^^^^^ 

tion  fv2J)'  In  the  latter  passage  (7=1 '.i')  the  importance  of 
doTn^  ttewill  of  God,  as  oJ,ntrast«d  with  mere  profession,  ,s 
a  condition  of  entering  into  the  Kingdom. 
.„  .=,  vuu=  ,,.rfectly  clear  that  the  whole  Sermon  ot  the  Mount 
regards  human  1 
lays  down  the 


insisted  < 

-  ..^  ..Q^foriMv  rlfnr  IhaT,  ine  wnoie  j 

of  the  Kingdo 
oraVprinciples  which  belong  to  that  point  ot 
It  may  therefore  be  fiUy  described  as  the  Law  of  the 
Kingdom. 

At  the  .same  time,  it  is  necessary  to  observe  that 
the  Sermon  on  the  Mount  is  not  a  new  Decalopie. 
Our  Lord  did  not  issue  commandments  like  those 
of  the  old  Law.  On  the  contrarj-.  He  laid  down 
principles,  and  taught  His  disciples  how  to  apply 
them. 

This  ii  ■'••  iipi.'ri  ml  rlislinction.  Commandments  which 
classify  a.n  ■    i      1  I     ^  ■  i.-- and  enjoimng  educSiorhave 

^Ta^u\i^  ■i.^  ^.^".'  --'-^''^'■-' '*»»""  °^'""■ '°'™^^^^ 
'^^nSS^'lu  the  oSi^  hanltare  tJSf^unlv^r^^^SlSef^re 
"^"rnotcOTfllct     There  are  parts  of  our  ^rd's^n^ne^c^^nj 

lave  seemed  perplexir -  "  "'  sw  39- «•  ■" --. 

!  perplexity  vanishes  \ 


IDEAS  (LEADING) 


IDEAS  (LEADINC4) 


contain  not  laws  I 
of  a  principle  (sei-- 
examples  or  illusl 
to  circumstances, 


Among  iiKir; 
the    Kingdom 


.1  .1. 


»ul,yoiuLonl, 
supreme.  The 
ith  most  clearly  has 
been  already  nolicnl.  U  .Muupies  the  whole  of 
Mt  6,  which  fills  the  central  space  in  the  moral 
teaching  of  Jesus  as  we  have  it  in  St.  Matthew's 
report  of  the  Sermon.  Here  we  have  the  motives 
of  conduct  dealt  with.  First,  the  prevailing  ^vrong 
motives  are  pointed  out :  the  praise  of  men  which 
too  often  destroys  the  reality  of  the  religious  life 
^yy  2. 6. 16. 18)  .  greed  of  gain,  the  laying  up  of 
earthly  treasures  (vv.i''-^),  which  makes  the 
'  single  eye '  impossible  ;  anxiety  for  the  neces- 
saries of  life,  food  and  clothing,  things  that  will 
surely  be  given  us  if  we  live  a  true  life  (vv.-"'*'). 

It  IS  characteristic  of  our  Lord  that  it  is  in  con- 
nexion with  this  last  subject  that  He  reveals  the 
true  motive.  He  contemplates  the  life  of  the 
average  man  toiling  for  his  daily  bread  and  tilled 
mth  anxiety  lest  that  bread  should  fail.  There  is 
an  extraordinary  tenderness  .and  sympathy  in  our 
Lord's  language  here.  The  passage  is  perhaps  the 
most  beautiful  in  all  His  teaching.  And  the 
lesson  reaches  the  highest  heights  of  spiritual 
vision.  '  Seek  first  the  kingdom  of  God  and  His 
righteousness,  and  all  these  things  (the  necessaries 
of  life)  shall  be  added  unto  you '  (v.**). 

It  is  singularly  impressive  that  this  teaching 
should  be  given  in  connexion  with  those  common 
everyday  duties  at  which  the  vast  majority  of 
human  beings  must  spend  their  lives.  To  the 
great  mass  of  the  world's  toilers  our  Lord  says  : 
Be  not  anxious  about  your  bodily  needs.  In  doing 
your  daily  work,  seek  the  Highest,  and  the  neces- 
saries of  life  will  not  fail.  And  what  is  that 
Highest?  It  is  the  Kingdom  and  righteous- 
ness of  God.  The  answer  presents  both  sides  of 
the  truth,  the  external  and  the  internal,  the 
objective  aim  and  the  quality  of  character  which 
corresponds  to  it. 

When  we  come  to  consider  more  carefully  what 
is  the  nature  of  this  highest  objective  aim  which 
is  termed  the  Kingdom,  we  are  met  by  the  diffi- 
culty that  our  Lord  nowhere  gives  a  formal  defini- 
tion of  it.  His  manner  of  referring  to  it  is  rather 
an  indication  that  He  desired  in  the  first  instance 
to  convince  His  hearers  of  its  existence,  and  for 
the  rest  to  approach  it  in  many  different  ways,  so 
as  to  exhibit  cufi'erent  aspects  of  a  thing  too  great 
for  its  nature  to  be  made  evident  by  any  one 
statement.  But  certain  characteristics  emerge 
with  sufficient  clearness.  What  these  character- 
istics are  will  be  seen  as  we  examine  the  other 
leading  ideas  of  our  Lord's  moral  teaching.  See 
also  art.  KINGDOM  OF  GOD. 

2.  The  Pure  Heart. — 'Blessed  are  the  pure  in 
heart,'  said  the  Lord;  'for  they  shall  see  God.' 
The  idea  expressed  in  this  Beatitude  is  one  of  tlie 
most  fundamental  in  the  interpretation  of  the  Law 
in  terms  of  the  gospel.  Our  Lord  insisted  upon 
the  inwardness  of  all  true  goodness.  An  external 
morality  had  no  value  in  His  eyes.  This  teachin}; 
was  not  altogether  new.  Great  prophets  and 
psalmists  had  seen  it  (Jer  31=^  P.s  5I'»).  Greek 
philosophers  had  taught  the  priority  of  being  to 
doing.  But  Jesus  gave  to  the  world  as  a  whole 
what  had  hitherto  been  the  possession  of  select 
souls.  By  showing  the  power  of  this  principle  to 
deepen  the  received  code.  He  was  able  to  alter  the 
popular  conception  of  the  moral  ideal.  He  taught 
that  within  the  Kingdom  the  only  goodness  which 
would  be  recognized  would  be  goodness  of  heart. 
All  the  examples  which  He  gave  to  sliow  that  the 
righteousness  of  the  Kingdom  must  exceed  the 


righteousness  of  the  scribes  and  Pharisees,  display 
the  operation  of  this  ]aiiK-i)iIe.  Sec  Mt  f)-- -»■^■'-''■ 
"-^8_  ik  6«.  (lur  Lor.l  di.l  iM.t  al...li>li  tlie  old 
Law.  He  fullilled  it  i.Mt  :.'■).  Ur  iim.  dated  to 
the  inner  meauiug  aii.l  .irc|,..i  (rulli  whieli  under- 
lay it.  And  what  is  \rw  m  ile^  uood  is  true  also 
of  the  evil:  its  nature  i-  ihmumI,  i l  proceeds  from 
the  heart,  and  is  not  meiel;,  ...n.  erned  with  the 
outward  action  (Mt  Ij'"  ",  Alk  7-',  Lk  6-^,  see  also 
Mt  12»-'-  ^'). 

There  is  a.  tendency  to  regard  this  purity  of  heart  as  concerned 
only  with  the  negation  of  one  class  of  fleshly  appetites.  Our 
Lord  did  indeed  apply  the  princ?iple  most  impressively  with  that 


reference  (Alt 

principle  " 

essence  of  all  goodn 


all  the 


show,  the 
■      very 


lie  which  the  philosophei 
Kant  stated  in  the  terms:  'Notliin;;  din  possibly  he  conceived 
in  the  world,  or  even  out  of  it,  which  i  ;i[i  !..■  .ailed  nn<„}  without 
qualification,  except  a  Good  Will.'  li  i-  l\\v  <l.»liiTH-  which 
modern  Ethics  expresses  when  it  dccl;ii.  ■;  Ih.ii  ItiL  unudness  or 
badness  of  conduct  depends  upon  lli''  uHiiiM.  In  ilu-  List 
resort,  the  ' single  eye '  and  the  'luirr  luait'  ;uf  tin'  same. 
They  hotll  express  the  inward  determination  to  do  tlie  good 
just  because  it  is  the  good,  and  for  no  other  reason.  The  former 
regards  this  moral  attitude  from  the  point  of  view  of  the  end 
which  is  aimed  at,  the  second  contemplates  the  disposition  of 
the  heart,  the  moral  condition  of  soul,  out  of  which  the  good 
inevitably  springs. 

3.  The  Infinite  Value  of  the  human  Soul.— This 

idea  is  very  frequent  in  the  teaching  of  our  Lord. 
Explicitly  or  implicitly,  it  occurs  everywhere.  See 
Mt  6-«<f-  10=3«'"»''-^=  12"- 1=  16-"  18''«-,  Mk  8^-^  9"-« 
Lk  9-^-^  10-"-  12™-^- 28  14''  is^ff- sf- "«■•  ig'",  Jn  S'" 
47fr.  iQiiff-.  All  passages  which  tell  of  the  love  of 
God  for  the  individual  soul  or  of  the  sacrifice  by 
which  the  salvation  of  the  soul  was  effected,  are 
witnesses  to  the  same  truth.  Every  person,  no 
matter  how  poor,  wretched,  sinful  or  degraded,  is 
of  infinite  value  when  compared  with  any  mere 
thing.  The  gospel  was  preaclied  to  the  poor.  The 
Christ  received  the  publicans  and  sinners  who  came 
to  Him.  None  were  too  miserable  or  too  lowly  for 
His  compassion.  The  Great  Father  in  heaven  is 
ever  watching  over  His  human  children.  The  very 
hairs  of  their  heads  are  all  numbered.  Better  to 
die  a  miserable  death  than  be  the  cause  of  injury 
to  one  of  His  little  ones.  God  so  cares  for  even 
the  most  sinful  among  His  children,  that  He  is 
comiiared  to  the  shepherd  seeking  the  lost  sheep, 
to  the  woman  searching  for  her  lost  piece  of  money. 
There  is  joy  in  heaven  over  one  sinner  that  re- 
penteth.  God  is  like  a  loving  father  who  rejoices 
over  the  returning  prodigal.  As  we  have  it  m  St. 
John,  '  God  so  loved  the  world,  that  he  gave  his 
onl.y-l"'-otlrii  Son'iS'S). 

Apait  Inmi  I  li.'  rehgious  value  of  these  teachings, 
their  rilii.  ;il  iiiipurtance  is  incalculable.  They  con- 
veyeil  to  luaiikiud  one  of  the  greatest  gifts  which 
even  Christianity  had  to  bestow :  the  belief  that 
each  human  soiil  is  of  absolute  value,  above  all 
price  or  estimation.  It  is  the  doctrine  which  philo- 
sophical Ethics  expresses,  when  it  declares  that 
every  person  is  to  be  regarded  as  an  end  in  himself, 
never  as  a  means  only.  This  is  the  doctrine  which 
imderlies  the  mission  of  the  Church  to  go  and  make 
disciples  of  all  the  nations  (Mt  28''').  It  is  the 
l)rineiplo  which  has  overthrown  tyrannies,  abolished 
slax  cry,  ,ind  justified  all  our  modern  enthusiasms 
for  lili'erty  and  for  the  welfare  of  humanity. 

This  doctrine,  combined  with  that  of  the  Fatherhood  of  God, 
affords  the  true  proof  of  individual  immortality.  Our  Lord's 
teaching  is  quite  clear  on  this  subject.  There  must  be  a  future 
life  for  men  because  God  calls  Himself  their  God.  '  He  is  not 
the  God  of  the  dead,  but  of  the  hving'  (Mt  223in',  Mk  12=7, 
Lk  2037ir.).  That  is,  God  cares  for  men,  they  are  precious  in 
His  sight,  therefore  He  cannot  permit  them  to  perish.  The 
great  Father  will  never  forsake  His  children. 

i.  The  Law  of  LoYe. — Christianity  teaches  us  to 
think  of  love  as  the  nature  of  God  and  as  the 
highest  law  of  human  life.  We  owe  this  noble 
teaching  to  our  Lord  Himself.  By  precept  and 
example  He  taught  His  followers  to  think  of  the 


772 


IDEAS  (LEADING) 


IDEAS  (LEADING) 


Almighty  as  their  Father  in  heaven.  While  never 
ignorins  the  justice,  the  righteousness  of  God,  He 
made  His  hearers  realize  the  supremacy  of  the 
Divine  Love.  Out  of  this  great  love  of  God  should 
flow  a  human  love  of  the  same  nature,  a  beneficent 
love  (Mt  5^-^,  Lk  6='"*'),  a  love  which  embraces 
even  those  who  are  bitterly  hostile.  Not  only  so, 
but  our  Lord  teaches  that  the  Law  of  Love  is  the 
supreme  law  of  conduct.  It  includes  all  the  com- 
mandments (Mt  22»'-39,  Mk  12™<f- ).  In  strict  accord- 
ance with  this  teaching  is  the  Law  of  Service.  He 
is  greatest  who  serves  best  (Mt  20=5t-,  Mk  10*"^-, 
Lk  22^--',  Jn  13=-").  Loving  service  is  the  true 
test  of  the  life  (Mt253=T-). 

This  teaching  shows  clearly  that  our  Lord  designed  to  give 
to  men  a  blessing  which  should  be,  not  merely  an  illumination 
for  the  soul  of  the  individual,  but  a  social  bond.  He  set  free  a 
principle  which  would  bless  all  in  the  blessing  of  each.  That 
principle  may  be  described  as  the  family  principle  exalted  to 
heaven  for  the  good  of  all  the  earth-  If  God  is  '  Our  Father,' 
then  all  we  'are  brethren'  (lit  238).  Tlie  kingdom  of  God  is 
thus  the  kingdom  of  Love  in  which  each  is  blessed  in  the 
blessing  of  all.  And  this  is  the  true  Sttmmum  Bunuin,  the  ideal 
end,  which  finds  its  partial  realization  in  e\ery  instance  of 
genuine  goodness  in  the  individual  life  as  well  as  in  the  life  of 
the  community,  and  which  is  the  highest  principle  of  all  moral 
and  social  progress.  Its  perfect  realization  is  the  great  hope  of 
the  future,  the  coming  of  the  Kingdom  in  glory. 

5.  The  Universality  of  Love.— The  Law  of  Love  in 
its  relation  to  our  duty  to  one  another  is  expressed 
by  the  command,  'Thou  shalt  love  thy  neighbour 
as  thyself.'  But  the  question  arises.  What  is  the 
scope  of  this  love  ?  (3r,  as  it  was  put  to  our  Lord 
Himself,  'Who  is  my  neighbour?'  (Lk  10^").  The 
answer  to  this  question  is  contained  in  the  passage 
already  referred  to  (Mt  S"-''*).  Our  love  is  to  be, 
like  God's,  a  blessing  for  all  who  need  it,  the  evil 
as  well  as  the  good,  the  just  as  well  as  the  unjust, 
our  enemies  as  well  as  our  friends.  In  the  parable 
of  the  Good  Samaritan  (Lk  10™"''),  the  same  answer 


selected  as  the  hero  of  His  parable  a  man  belong- 
ing to  a  race  which  was  hated  and  despised  by  the 
Jews.  There  was  an  exquisite  wisdom  in  this 
choice.  Why  not  have  made  a  Jew  assist  a 
Samaritan,  or  even  a  Gentile,  in  order  to  illustrate 
the  principle?  But  our  Lord  wished  to  teach  by 
an  example  appealing  rather  to  the  humanity  than 
to  the  national  feelings  of  His  hearer.  Had  the 
act  of  mercy  been  shown  by  a  Jew  to  a  Samaritan 
it  might  have  seemed  condescension,  a  work  of 
supererogation.  Sho^vn  by  a  Samaritan  to  a  Jew, 
the  true  character  of  the  goodness  it  reveals  be- 
comes, from  the  Jewish  point  of  view,  far  more 
evident.  We  ai-e  taught  that  love  should  be 
universal  in  its  nature.  It  should  break  down  the 
barriers  erected  by  race,  or  privilege,  or  religion. 

It  is  impossible  to  exaggerate  the  importance  of 
this  teaching.  Ancient  civilizations  were  for  the 
most  part  founded  on  slavery  or  on  the  subjection 
of  races  or  classes.  Underlying  the  whole  Jewish 
system  was  the  idea  of  a  privileged  people.  Our 
Lord  broke  through  the  most  inveterate  of  pre- 

{'udices,  and  tauj;iit  the  universal  obligation  to 
ove  and  to  lilos.  He  laid  the  foundation  of 
liberty  and  of  ]iliil:iiitlir<i])y. 

6.  The  Great  Example.'— In  Mt  6^3,  the  ideal  is 
set  before  us  in  two  ways,  as  an  objective  aim  and 
as  a  type  of  character:  'Seek  ye  first  liis  king- 
dom and  his  righteousness.'  'the  righteousness 
of  God  is  the  standard.  There  is,  and  must  be,  a 
correspondence  between  the  outward  and  the  in- 
ward, oetween  the  Kingdom  of  God  as  a  universe 
of  souls  bound  together  by  the  great  love  of  their 
Father  in  Heaven  and  their  love  one  to  another, 
and  the  moral  condition  of  each  individual  soul. 
When  the  latter  side  is  considered,  we  ask,  What 
is  its  quality  ?  what  is  its  standard  ?  The  answer 
is— the  character  of  God.     This  is  implied  in  the 


very  name  '  Father '  (Mt  5").  The  teachin"  is, 
'  Be  sons  of  your  Father,'  be  like  unto  God.  Even 
more  explicit  is  the  statement  in  Mt  5**  '  Ye 
therefore  shall  be  perfect  as  your  heavenly  Father 
is  perfect.'  This  standard  may  seem  too  high.  It 
may  seem  unreal  to  say  to  ordinary  men  and 
women,  '  Be  perfect  as  God.'  But  all  realization 
of  good  character  in  human  creatures  is,  so  far  as 
it  goes,  an  imitation  of  God,  a  reproduction  of  the 
Divine.  Goodness  is  always  a  following  of  God, 
though  it  be  a  very  long  way  off'.  What  we  have 
liere  is  the  absolute  standard,  the  highest  possible 
ideal  of  character.  Our  Lord  will  set  nothing 
lower  before  us.  But  the  ideal  is  brought  near  to 
us  in  a  way  which  is  characteristic  of  Christianity. 
Jesus  Christ  Himself  is  the  incarnation  of  the  ideal. 
See  Mt  112»  20=5-28,  Mk  10«-«,  Lk  6*  22=',  Jn  13'=-  ^-  *> 
15'=.  In  these  passages  our  Lord  holds  Himself 
up  as  an  example.  And  there  can  be  no  doubt 
that  the  influence  of  His  character  has  been  as 
potent  a  moral  force  as  His  words.  He  elevated 
humanity  by  being  what  He  was.  It  is  very  hard 
to  realize  how  vast  was  the  change  effected  by  the 
teaching  and  example  of  Christ.  The  conception 
of  the  ideal  of  character  was  altered.  To  see  this 
truth  we  have  but  to  compare  Aristotle's  picture 
of  the  '  great-souled  man '  with  our  Lord.  Noble 
and  virtuous  with  the  splendid  but  imperfect 
nobility  and  virtue  of  pagan  Greece,  the  great- 
souled  man  is  proud,  self-satisHed  and  pompous. 
His  very  'greatness,'  as  conceived  by  Aristotle, 
makes  him  a  poor  creature  when  placed  beside 
Jesus  of  Nazareth.  Above  all,  our  Lord's  example 
shows  us  the  principle  of  love  at  work  in  human 
life. 

7.  Self  renunciation. — When  dealing  with  the 
lofty  ]irinri|.les  of  absolute  morality,  our  Lord's 
te;n  liiiiu'  !>■  iharacterized  by  the  most  extraordinary 
sweetness.  \\  ith  joyous  confidence  His  thought 
lingers  on  the  sunny  heights  of  truth.  But  when 
He  comes  to  speak  of  the  struggle  through  which 
the  soul  must  pass  in  its  upward  progress,  His 
manner  changes.  There  is  an  awful  force  in  the 
language  and  imagery  with  which  He  teaches  the 
necessity  of  self-sacrifice.  From  this  we  learn  His 
attitude  towards  sin.  See  Mt  5=9-  »  Igs-',  Mk  9«-« 
1037-39_  Such  passages  show  that  His  tenderness 
towards  the  repentant  sinner  involved  no  condon- 
ing of  sin.  Our  Lord  received  sinners,  but  He 
never  regarded  their  sins  with  complaisance.  The 
following  passages  are  important :  Mt  10""-  16=^-=', 
Mk  &*«■,  Lk  9=®-  14°-=-s'  17^,  Jn  12==,  also  Mt  7'-  '*, 
Lk  13=*'''-.  In  these  passages  the  necessity  of  self- 
renunciation  is  expressed  in  terms  of  the  most  vivid 
intensity.  Yet  the  denial  of  self  is  nowhere  repre- 
sented as  an  end  in  itself.  It  is  a  means,  or  rather 
the  inevitable  means.  It  is  the  way,  not  the  goal. 
Yet  it  is  a  way  which  cannot  be  avoided  if  the 
goal  is  to  be  reached. 

Our  Lord  clearly  sets  before  us  the  reward  of  goodness  and 
the  punishment  which  awaits  unrepented  sin.  The  subject  is  a 
puzzling  one,  becanse  of  the  anil>iguities  of  language.  But  our 
thoughts  will  l.r  .,  ,  fr.  r  fidiii  ,  .iifn^iMii  if  we  consider  our 
Lord's  teafhiii  -  it  ;;ifi  N.  ,i|  1 1 1  trm  r^rtain  popular  miscon- 
cejJtions.     Ii  \     :         :   ■      1     i  li      i -aching,  the  Kingdi 


itself  I 


]oy. 


tliv  Lord' 


to  livi'  for  tlie  H"..il  itsrll.  The  j.'0«lii.  ss  or  badness  of  working 
for  rewards  depends  altogetlier  on  the  nature  of  the  rewards 
which  are  sought.    To  work  for  selfish  ends  is  always  wrong,  to 


ii.  Rkligious  ideas.— We  have  considered  the 
leading  ethical  ideas  of  our  Lord's  teaching.  But, 
as  must  now  be  quite  apparent,  it  is  impossible  to 


IDEAS  (LEADING) 


IDEAS  (LEADING) 


Though  om-  Lord  Himself  advanced  from  a  pre- 
vailingly ethical  stage  of  instruction  to  a  stage 
which  ^^  as  more  distinctively  religious,  yet  in  His 


deals  with  the  underlying  principles.  For  example, 
when  speaking  of  tlie  ordinary  work  of  human 
life,  and  giving  the  great  rule,  '  Seek  tirst  the 
kingdom,'  He  led  His  hearers  on  to  the  thought 
of  tlie  Fatherhood  of  God  as  the  reason  why  they 
should  renounce  all  anxiety  and  live  for  the  higher 
ends  (Mt  628- »'-^2,_ 

1.  The  Fatherhood  of  God.— This  idea  stands 
first  among  those  which  belong  to  the  distinctively 
religious  side  of  our  Lord's  teaching.  He  gave  it 
a  fundamental  position,  and  conveyed  it  in  every 
possible  way  to  the  minds  of  His  hearers.  By 
word,  by  manner,  by  the  manifestation  of  His  own 
spiritual  experience,  and,  aljove  all,  by  being  what 
He  was,  and  at  the  same  time  declaring  Himself 
to  be  a  revelation  of  the  mind  and  will  of  God 
(see  Mt  1127  253"f-,  Jn  5""^-  S'^ff-  lO-^"'-  12«"'-  14-16), 
our  Lord  taught  men  to  think  of  God  as  '  the 
Father,'  and  to  attribute  to  Him  all  the  benignity 
and  bountifulness  of  the  fatherly  character.  Here 
it  is  impossible  to  separate  the  teaching  from  the 
life  of  Christ.  It  is  through  the  Christ  Himself 
that  man  learns  to  know  God  as  the  Father.  Jesus 
was  intensely  conscious  of  God's  presence  and 
relation  to  Himself.  He  saw  into  the  heart  of 
God  with  a  clearness  of  vision  unparalleled  in 
human  experience.  He  speaks  of  God  out  of  a 
perfect  knowledge,  and  whenever  a  human  soul  is 
able  truly  to  hear,  belief  follows.  The  revelation 
of  God  made  by  Him  carries  conviction  with  it. 
It  is  so  great  a  thing  that  it  cannot  but  be  true. 
When  once  man  has  grasped  it,  no  other  account 
of  God  can  be  accepted. 


ule.     The  fulness  of 
now  belong  to  the  idea  as  connected  with  our  relation  i 
are  very  largely  derived  from  the  teaching  and  influence  of  our 
Lord. 

In  the  teaching  of  our  Lord  the  Fatherhood  of 
God  is  presented  in  three  ways :  (1)  Jesus  speaks 
of  God  as  '  My  Father.'  This  name  was  very  dear 
to  Jesus.  It  sprang  from  His  consciousness  of 
relationship  to  God.  Clearly,  it  bore  a  special 
meaning.  He  was  Son  of  God  in  a  unique  sense. 
This  truth  is  emphasized  by  the  manner  in  which 
the  expression  '  My  Father '  is  frequently  used  (Mt 
1032.33  1127^  Lk  2-'»  22=9,  jngi7  io=!i.3o  175  20";  see 
also  Mt  7=^'  16"  IS'"-  "■  ^5  20=»,  Mk  8™,  Lk  24''9,  Jn 
520.45  Q32S.  gi9ff.  i4_i6).  These  passages  fully  carry 
out  the  idea  expressed  in  the  announcements  at 
His  baptism  and  on  the  Mount  of  Transfiguration 
(Mk  1"  and  9').  (2)  Our  Lord  taught  His  disciples 
to  think  of  tliPiiisflvcs  as  a  family,  with  God  above 
them  a--  ilicii  1''.iIImi.  'I'licy  were  called  into  a 
speci:ill\  ■](,,■  iil.ii  i..ii-lii|.  (11  God,  and  became  in 
that  s|iii  Mill  -(live  Ills  cliililrcu.  In  the  Sermon  on 
the  Mciiuit,  .Ifsus  addresses  His  disciples,  and  con- 
tinually speaks  to  them  of  God,  calling  Him  '  your 
Father '  (Mt  5«-  «•  *»  6'-  «•  "•  is-  32  7U)_  <  year  not,' 
He  says,  '  little  flock  ;  for  it  is  your  Father's  good 
pleasure  to  give  \.mi  tlir  kiimd'.ini '  (T,k  12"-).  In 
the  Lord's  Pr.-.y.'i  ili.-  :nMiv-  -(lur  l-;itli.-i-  has 
reference  to  tin-  Ji-.i|,l..-  ■,,  il,,.  Limily  of  Cod. 
Perhaps  we  dare  not  limil  tlii>  ■nin,'  but  the 
prayer  was  given  to  the  disciides  for  their  own 
use,  and  the  word  was  surely  meant  to  have  the 
effect  of  uniting  them  as  a  family  under  the  head- 
ship of  their  Father  in  Heaven.     (3)  Our  Lord's 


teaching  regards  God  as  the  Father  of  all  men. 
Mt  6^=^,  Lk  6^  imply  this  great  extension  of  the 
Divine  Fatherhood.  But  clearer  still  are  the 
parables  of  the  Lost  Sheep,  the  Lost  Piece  of 
Silver,  and  the  Prodigal  Son  (Lk  15).  The  parable 
of  the  Good  Samaritan  extends  the  sphere  of  love 
beyond  the  bounds  of  Judaism,  a:id  throws  light 
on  such  passages  as  Mt  6**  and  Lk  6*'.  Its  prin- 
ciple corresponds,  in  the  human  sphere,  to  that 
expressed  by  the  words,  '  God  so  loved  the  world ' 
(Jn  3'=). 

Our  Lord,  then,  teaches  us  to  think  of  God  as 
the  Father,  and  at  the  same  time  as  Sovereign 
over  the  greatest  of  all  kingdoms.  The  character- 
istic attribute  of  this  paternal  Sovereignty  is  love. 
His  love  is  so  wide  that  it  includes  the  unthankful 
and  evil,  those  who  have  turned  their  backs  upon 
their  Father's  house  and  renounced  His  authority. 
It  is  the  source  from  which  springs  all  that  is  de- 
scribed as  Unlvation.  It  explains  the  mission  of 
the  Christ  (Jn  3i«).  It  is  the  inner  truth  of  the 
life  of  Him  who  came  to  seek  and  to  save  the  lost. 
It  is  that  Divine  characteristic  from  which  pro- 
ceed 'joy  in  heaven  over  one  sinner  that  repenteth ' 
(Lk  15').  And  when  this  love  has  won  the  sinner, 
it  introduces  him  into  a  circle  in  which  he  is 
brought  more  immediately  under  the  Divine 
Fatherhood.  He  becomes  a  member  of  the  family, 
the  Kingdom,  that  great  order  of  things  in  which 
men  feel  and  experience  the  love  of  the  Great 
Father.  Finally,  there  is  that  supreme  degree  of 
Divine  Fatherhood  which  belongs  to  the  relation 
between  the  Father  and  Him  who  is  in  a  unique 
sense  the  Son.  The  life  and  death  of  Christ  reveal 
the  love  of  God  to  man  because  of  this  relation. 
God's  love  appears  because  He  gave  His  only- 
begotten  Son.     See  also  art.  Father. 

2.  The  Son. — The  second  stage  of  our  Lord's 
teaching  is  concerned  mainly  with  Himself  and 
His  work  for  man.  It  is  one  of  the  great  para- 
doxes of  His  personality,  that  while  humility  was 
one  of  His  most  marked  characteristics,  He  yet 
jneached  Himself  as  none  else  ever  dared  to  do. 
Sometimes  the  humility  and  the  self-assertion 
occur  side  by  side,  expressed  in  a  single  utterance. 
'  Come  unto  me,  all  ye  that  labour  and  are  heavy 
laden,  and  I  will  give  you  rest.  Take  my  yoke 
upon  you,  and  learn  of  me ;  for  I  am  meek  and 
lowly  in  heart :  and  ye  shall  find  rest  unto  your 
souls'  (Mt  IP^- ^).  The  invitation  and  jjromise 
here  constitute  a  great  claim.  Yet  He  adds,  'I 
am  meek  and  lowly  in  heart ' ;  and  the  story  of  His 
life  proves  the  truth  of  the  assertion.  Further- 
more, these  words  follow  one  of  the  greatest 
statements  ever  made  of  the  dignity  of  our  Lord's 
person,  and  the  extent  of  His  authority:  'All 
things  have  been  delivered  unto  me  of  my  Father  : 
and  no  one  knoweth  the  Son,  save  the  Father  ; 
neither  doth  any  know  the  Father,  save  the  Son, 
and  he  to  whomsoever  the  Son  willeth  to  reveal 
him'  (Mt  11^).  This  passage  is  but  one  out  of 
many.  Jesus  continually  asserted  His  right  to 
the  absolute  devotion  of  the  hearts  of  men.  No 
sacrifice  is  too  great  to  be  made  in  His  service. 
Even  the  dearest  of  human  relationships  must  be 
counted  as  nothing  in  comparison  with  Him.  He 
claims,  as  His  right,  the  utmost  allegiance  (Mt 
1037-39  162-1-26  19=8. 29  253J«'-,  Mk  %^-^  9^-  ^^  10="  IS'^ 
14'-»,  Lk  925f-  ■'8-  s'ff-  10-=  128"'-  142Sff-  18™,  and  through- 
out St.  John's  Gospel.  See,  especially,  Jn  5"»-  S'^^- 
1030  i46(r.). 

The  only  adequate  explanation  of  these  facts  is 
that  which  the  NT  supplies,  and  which  the  Chris- 
tian Church  has  always  held  :  Jesus  is  Divine ; 
He  is  til.-  Ill,  an, at.'  Word  of  God  {.Jn  1").  No 
other  durliiiir  .an  justify  the  claim  which  He 
makes,  ami  i\|ilaiii  the  life,  work,  and  teaching  by 
which  that  claim  is  sustained.     Our  Lord  did  not 


774 


IDEAS  (LEADING) 


IDEAS  (LEADING) 


declare  Himself  Divine,  nor  did  He  even  make 
open  proclamation  of  His  Messiahship.  That  was 
not  His  method.  He  avoided  anything  which 
would  have  inflamed  the  minds  of  the  multitude 
(Mk  P--  **•  «•  ■"  3'-,  Lk  4^'-  «  5'«  p,  Jn  6^%  Further, 
He  knew  that  faith  springs  into  being  not  from 
names  and  titles,  but  from  the  recognition  by  the 
soul  of  that  which  is  alone  worthy  to  be  the  object 
of  faith.  Therefore  He  chose  to  reveal  Himself 
gradually  in  HLs  daily  intercourse  ^vith  His  fol- 
lowers, and  so  lead  them  to  discover  the  great 
truth  for  themselves  (Mt  IS"-").  That  our  Lord 
deliberately  followed  this  method  is  shown  by  the 
terms  whicli  He  used  when  referring  to  Himself. 
For  example,  He  habitually  called  Himself  the 
Son  of  Man.  The  name  presented  a  problem  to 
all  who  heard  it.  It  suggested  a  reference  to  Dn 
V^,  but  was  not  so  definitely  Messianic  as  to  con- 
stitute a  claim.  It  evoked  the  question,  '  Who  is 
this  Son  of  Man?'  (Jn  12*^).  The  name  occurs 
about  eighty  times  in  the  Gospels,  and  always  as 
used  by  our  Lord  of  Himself.  It  is  so  character- 
istic of  His  o^Ya  point  of  view  that  it  is  not  used 
by  others.  It  clearly  implies  His  humiliation,  yet 
it  is  employed  by  Him  pointedly  in  those  passages 
in  which  His  gloiy  is  described.  See  Mt  13*i  19^ 
253"f-,  Lk  2\KJn  5^  6^-  etc. 

The  title  Son  of  Man  expresses  the  hunmnity  of 
our  Lord.  It  is  His  own  testimony  to  His  perfect 
Brotherhood  with  men.  It  marks  His  sympathy 
with  human  infirmity,  and  is  used  impressively  in 
connexion  with  His  mission  of  salvation  (e.g.  ilt 
20-»,  Lk  W).  It  presents  Him  a-s  the  Ideal  Man. 
This  has  been  questioned  as  not  in  accordance 
with  the  thought  of  the  time,  but  the  OT  had  its 
ideal  figures.  Abraham,  Moses,  Da\'id,  Elijah  came 
to  be  regarded  as  typical  representatives  of  whole 
peoples  or  classes.  In  the  latter  Isaiah  this  mode 
of  tnought  reaches  its  most  i)erfect  development. 
The  ideal  Israel  is  depicted  as  the  'Servant  of 
Jehovah,'  and,  a-s  the  jnophet  proceeds,  the  con- 
ception grows,  until  in  Is  53  there  rises  into  view 
the  wonderful  form  of  the  Suffering  Servant  who  is 
contrasted  with,  yet  is  one  with,  the  people  of  God. 
There  is  therefore  no  anachronism  in  supposing 
that  when  our  Lord  styled  Himself  the  Son  of 
Man  He  intended  to  set  Himself  forth  a.-*  the  repre- 
sentative of  the  human  race,  the  Ideal  Man.  See, 
further,  art.  Son  of  Man. 

The  title  Son  of  God  was  not  often  used  by  Jesus 
Himself  {see  Mt  27*  Jn  5^  ^),  yet  in  many  ways 
He  imijlied  His  right  to  it.  His  constant  and 
peculiar  use  of  the  expression  '  My  Father '  (see 
above),  and  the  freqxient  occurrence  of  the  title 
'Son  of  God,'  as  attributed  to  Him  liy  oHipr-^  and 
not  disclaimed  by  Himself,  show  wli;ii  «,i  Hi 
position  in  regard  to  this  question  iM'  I  ■>  '  I  t 
27*'- «  Mk  3",  Lk  4«  22™,  Jn  l'^- «  3'"  \>  1 1  ri,-.  i. 
This  title  was  naturally  seized  upon  l)y  His  dis- 
ciples as  the  simplest  way  of  expressing  the  mys- 
tery of  His  person.  The  essence  of  that  niy.stery, 
as  manifested  in  every  instance  in  which  He  dis- 
closed His  inner  mind,  Avas  the  close  relationship 
in  which  He  stood  to  the  Father  (see  Mt  ll^'). 
And  so  it  was  by  means  of  this  title  that  His 
Divinity  was  represented  to  the  minds  of  His  first 
followers.  And  for  the  practical  puriH)ses  of  the 
religious  life,  as  distinguished  from  the  definitions 
of  theology,  no  mode  of  expression  could  have  been 
so  useful ;  the  critical  faculties  were  held  in  sus- 
pense while  the  needs  of  the  soul  were  satisfied. 
See  also  art.  Son  of  God. 

The  two  titles  '  Son  of  God '  and  '  Son  of  Man  ' 
modify  and  explain  one  another.  Taken  together 
they  constitute  our  Lord's  own  most  characteristic 
way  of  expressing  the  nature  of  His  person.  It 
was  in  this  way  that  He  chose  to  teacli  men  His 
humanity  and   His  Divinity  and  the  miracle  of 


their  union.  Thus  the  Incarnation  is  found  to  be 
implied  in  our  Lord's  attitude  towards  His  own 
consciousness  of  Himself  in  relation  to  God  and 
man.  For  a  deeper  insight  into  this  profound  sub- 
ject we  must  turn  to  those  passages  m  which  that 
consciousness  is  most  fully  revealed  :  Mt  11"  25^1*-, 
Mk  8*^f-,  Lk  10=>«f-,  Jn  5'™-  8=^"^  KP"  17'->  etc. 
With  thU  is  connected  our  Lord's  consciousness  of 
Himself  as  the  bond  of  union  among  His  disciples, 
uniting  them  to  God  and  to  one  another :  Jn  14-'" 
151-11  1^22. 23_  j^iso  He  presents  Himself  as  the 
means  of  communication  between  God  and  man : 
.Jn  10'  14*.  These  truths  are  aspects  of  His  Incar- 
nation. 

Our  Lord  represented  the  work  of  His  life  as  a 
work  of  salvation  :  Lk  19»- 1"  ;  cf.  Mt  15-",  Lk  loi-'". 
This  idea,  though  prominent  in  the  Gospels  from 
the  first  (see  Mt  V-\  Lk  2",  Jn  1-"-'),  and  implied  in 
all  our  Lord's  language  about  Himself  and  His 
relation  to  men,  yet  remains  undeveloped  in  His 
teaching  until  the  end  of  His  ministry.  As  the 
Gospels  proceed,  however,  and  His  death  ap- 
proaches, sudden  gleams  of  light  are  tliroA\'n  upon 
the  deeper  meaning  of  salvation.  In  Jn  GF'^"-,  the 
thought  of  Christ  as  the  Bread  of  Life  passes  into 
that  of  the  Paschal  Lamb  by  whose  death  and 
blood-shedding  the  people  of  God  are  delivered. 
In  Jn  10"*-,  He  is  the  Good  Shenherd  who  lays 
down  His  life  for  the  sheep.  On  the  last  journey 
to  Jerusalem  our  Lord's  mind  was  much  occupied 
by  the  dreadful  events  which  He  knew  were  await- 
ing Him  (Mk  l(y»-  **,  also  Mt  20"»-,  Lk  W^-'^). 
Before  this  He  had  told  His  disciples  of  the  facts 
(Mt  16=S  Mk  8^1  9^',  Lk  9=^),  but  now  He  declares 
something  of  their  meaning  and  purpose.  The 
occasion  of  the  declaration  was  the  ambitious  peti- 
tion of  the  sons  of  Zebedee.  In  reply  to  the  two 
brothers,  our  Lord  promises,  in  veiled  language, 
participation  in  His  sufterings ;  and  to  the  whole 
body  of  the  disciples  He  gives  this  teaching  :  '  Who- 
soever would  become  great  anion"  you  shall  be 
3'our  minister  ;  and  whosoever  would  be  first  among 
you,  shall  be  servant  of  all.  For  verily  the  Son  of 
Man  came  not  to  be  ministered  unto,  but  to  mini- 
ster, and  to  give  His  life  a  ransom  for  many.'  It 
is  the  first  clear  statement  in  our  Lord's  own  lan- 
guage of  the  purpose  of  His  death.  With  this 
passage  must  be  connected  Jn   12^-",  in  which, 


declaration  which  He  made  at  the  Last  Supper. 
There  are  four  accounts  in  the  NT  (Mt  26=«-=»,  i\lk 
14===-^,  Lk  22"--»,  1  Co  11=3-2=).  No  t,„.„  of  the.se 
correspond  exactly.  But  all  agree  that  our  Lord 
connected  the  rite  with  tho  ronception  of  His 
death  as  a  sacrifice  on  lidi.ilf  nf  men.     He  gave 

His  body  over  to  ilcntli.  Hi-  M 1  to  be  shed 'for 

many  unto  the  rrmi-  i.in  i,f  >iiis.'  And,  as  St. 
John  tells  II-  li-  It  111  lint  very  night  our  Lord 
addres.sed  II  i!         i    l.ii-tli  on  FIi>  love  and 

His  relation  .  'i  I  1  i- 1  .iiid  to  tlicm,  and  said, 
'Greater  lo\(  iiinii  no  m.in  than  this,  tliat  a  man 
lay  down  his  lite  tor  Ins  triends.' 

In  the  teaching  of  our  Lord,  then,  the  atonement 
is  the  redemption  of  men  fi-om  sin  by  the  givin"  of 
His  life.     It  is  the  remission  of  sins  through  His 


death  and  the  shedding  of  His  blood.  It  is  the 
work  of  love.  It  is  the  com  of  wheat  falling  into 
the  ground  that  it  may  perish  and,  through  perish- 
ing, bear  much  fniit.  "The  impressiveness  of  this 
teaching  is  greatly  increased  when  it  is  taken  in 
connexion  with  certain  events  and  fragmentary 
utterances  Avhich  give  the  testimony  of  our  Lord's 
own  inner  consciousness  to  the  fact  that,  in  His 
Passion  and  Death,  Ho  injnjo.l  in  .1  great  conflict 
with  evil,  a  work  givin  Hiin  ly  11  !■<  Father,  a  work 
which  He  was  bouii.l  lo  arK.nii.li-h.  The  follow- 
ing passages  are  the  iuo.>l  important:   Mt  16^^-, 


IDEAS  (LEADlKCx) 


IDEAS  (LEADING) 


(75 


Lk  22"^  Jn  12"  14»',  Mt  26^»f-,  Mk  14»"-,  Lk  22^"'-, 
Mt  27'"',  Mk  15**.  Most  impressive  of  all  is  the 
Agony  in  the  garden.  It  supplies  the  key  to  all 
the  rest. 

3.  Faith. — But  though  the  fuller  explanation  of 
the  purpose  of  our  Lord's  life  and  death  took  place 
only  towards  the  end,  He  had  from  the  beginning 
made  a  demand  which  implied  all  that  afterwards 
became  explicit.  He  insisted  on  a  faith  which 
found  its  supreme  object  in  Himself.  The  great- 
ness of  Hi.s  personal  claim  has  been  already  pointed 
out  (see  list  of  passages  given  above).  We  have 
been  able  to  discern  something  of  the  meaning  of 
this  claim  in  relation  to  the  doctrine  of  our  Lord's 
person.  But  it  is  necessary  also  to  observe  that 
there  is  involved  a  very  ilcar  doctrine  of  the  nature 
of  faith.  Jesus  tauj;lit  I  he  supn'ine  necessity  of 
faith  in  God,  the  grc.ii  I'.iJ  Imt.  lli^  also  taught 
the  necessity  of  faitli  in  ilim  'll.  l!y  the  demands 
which  He  made,  the  promisi's  He  j;:ae,  the  blessings 
He  bestowed,  He  made  it  clear  tliat  He  sought  for 
a  faith  which  should  take  the  form  of  an  absolute 
trust  directed  towards   Himself.      See  Mt  8--  "• '" 

92.  22.  29  1528_  Mk  I*.  41  25  4''0  53-1.  36  fiS.  6  729  §12.  17-21  1052 

W-\  Lk  5>--  "■  ="  7»-™  8^5.48. 50  1042  1719  1842  1939.40, 
In  the  Gospel  of  St.  John,  faitli  of  this  kind  is  pre- 
sented everywhere  as  the  spiritual  condition  which 
enables  man  to  become  receptive  of  the  highest 
blessing.      See  Jn  V--'^  2"-25  316.  is.  36  441. 42.  w  524 

629.  36.  40    812    936-38    109.16.27     1125.26     1246.46     149.  12   etc. 

In  these  pa.ssages  and  throughout  the  Fourth 
Gospel,  Christ  Himself,  in  His  relation  to  God  the 
Father  on  the  one  hand,  and  to  those  who  believe 


water,  the  Bread  of  Life,  the  Light  of  the  World, 
the  Good  Shepherd,  the  Resurrection  and  the  Life, 
the  Way,  the  Truth,  and  the  Life,  etc.  All  these 
images  imply  .some  attitude  or  act  of  reception  on 
the  part  of  those  who  benefit.  Therefore  we  read 
of  the  New  Birth,  the  drinking  of  the  Living  Water, 
the  eating  of  the  Bread  of  Life,  the  following  of 
the  Light,  etc.  And  whatever  else  may  be  in- 
volved, there  is,  in  all  these,  the  teaching  that 
faith  on  the  part  of  the  human  recipient  corresponds 
to  the  gifts  which  are  bestowed  in  Christ.  See, 
further,  art.  Faith. 

Our  Lord's  first  teaching  as  to  preparation  for  the 
Kingdom  was  a  call  to  repentance  (Mk  l"*).  To 
this  we  must  now  add  faith,  as  tlie  subjective 
means  by  which  the  Kingdom  is  realized,  a  faith 
which,  when  developed,  becomes  faith  in  Jesus 
Christ. 

4.  The  Coming  of  the  Kingdom.— Our  Lord  came 
to  found  a  kingdom,  a  great  spiritual  and  social 
order  of  things,  based  on  the  principle  of  love, 
under  the  Fatherhood  of  God,  and  creating  a 
Brotherhood  among  men.  Its  members  were  to 
enter  into  this  new  life  through  repentance  and 
faith,  and  in  it  to  realize  a  righteousness  of  heart 
and  life  far  exceeding  the  righteousness  of  the 
scribes  and  Pharisees.  The  possibility  of  such  a 
thing  in  a  world  like  this  would  have  been  incred- 
ible, but  for  the  way  in  which  our  Lord  presented 
and  manifested  Himself  to  men.  In  Him  resided 
the  power  which  would  realize  the  Kingdom.  By 
His  dr.'itli  lie  overcame  tli<'  f.ir.'cs  which  opposed 
the  Kin-.lui,,,  by  His  life  He  ,-l,il,lished  it. 

r.ut  tliMUL^li  the  Kin:.;<hiin  was  :,  present  fact  from 
the  moment  th:it  Christ  hrcjiieht  liuiiian  souls  into 
ari.uht  relation  I, ,  Cod,  we  are  taught  by  Him  to 
tliiiik  of  tile  Kineilom  as  yet  to  come.  In  the 
Lord  s  I'r.iyer  «e  liave  the  petition,  'Thy  kingdom 
come.'  And  (liere  are  iiiany  passages  w'liieli  sliuw 
that  these  woi.l  i-eler  lo  a  ureal,  fiilnre  I'ealizatioii  : 
Mt  8"  13*'  •-':.',  Ml,  s  ^  I  I  ■',  l.k  L'l''  i-J"',  .\r  !'■■■ 
etc.  ButehMrri  ..i  nil  :,o.  Ihe  |  ki  ra  1 .1.-- of  .jrowtli  : 
the  Tares,  tlie.Miistanl  Seed,  die  Leaven,  the  1  )raN\ - 


net,  tlie  Seed  Growing  in  Secret.  These  parables 
deal  with  the  development  of  the  Kingdom  in 
history  and  its  relation  to  the  world  at  large.  They 
connect  the  conception  of  the  Kingdom  as  a  spiritual 
fact  here  and  now  with  that  conception  which  is 
distinctively  eschatological  and  regards  the  King- 
dom as  a  perfected  state  of  things  in  the  future. 
It  is  plain  that  our  Lord  never  lost  sight  of  the 
great  final  realization  of  the  Ideal.  He  constantly 
looked  at  the  present  in  the  light  of  the  future,  and 
taught  His  followers  to  live  and  work  with  the 
great  end  in  view  (Lk  12''"'''-). 

S.  The  Paraclete."Iii  the  Fourth  Gospel  we  find 
recorded  a  \eiy  .listlnet  and  detailed  promise  of  a 
special  gift  liywhiili  the  disciples  of  our  Lord  were 
to  be  fitted  to  do  their  Master's  work  after  His 
departure.  It  occurs  in  the  solemn  address  of  the 
night  bef(n-e  the  Passion  (Jn  14-16).  'I  will  pray 
the  Father,  and  he  shall  give  you  another  (Jom- 
forter  (Paraclete),  that  he  may  be  with  you  for 
ever  ;  even  the  Spirit  of  truth  '  (14i^-  ").  Again  and 
again  in  this  great  discourse  our  Lord  returns  to 
this  promise,  and  ilwells  upon  various  aspects  of  the 
Spirit's  work  (1418=8  15="  IG'-i").     The  presence  of 


also  a  mission  to  the  world  ( 16*).  It  is  good  for  the 
disciples  that  our  Lord  should  leave  them,  because 
the  Spirit's  coming  is  dependent  on  His  going.  It 
is  plain  that  the  meaning  is  that  the  Spirit  was  to 
be  given  as  a  source  of  illumination  and  spiritual 
power  for  the  people  of  Christ  during  the  develop- 
ment of  the  Kingctora  in  the  world.  Thus  the  Spirit 
carries  on  the  work  of  Christ. 

In  the  Synoptic  Gospels  there  is  nothing-  as  clear 
in  regard  to  the  office  of  the  Holy  Spirit.  Yet  there 
are  passages  which,  though  much  less  definite, 
a^ree  perfectly  witli  the  teaching  in  Jn  14-16. 
Tiius  the  connexion  of  the  Spirit's  work  with  the 
future  of  the  Church  is  implied  in  Mt  IQP>,  Lk  I212. 
See  also  Lk  i^\  Mt  12'-«i-,  Mk  S^",  Lk  11",  l\It  28'». 
See,  further,  artt.  Holy  Spirit  and  Paraclete. 

In  Ac  14  we  find  an  important  oorroboration  by  St.  Luke  o! 


In  Lk  2 


The  work  of  the  Holy  Ghost  is  therefore  con- 
nected with  the  extension  anil  develojiment  of  the 
Kingdom.  He  is  the  inner  regenerating  [xiwer  in 
the  individual  and  the  eomninnity.  He  is  the 
Master  of  the  movements  of  tlem'^ht ,  i^niding  into 
all  truth.  The  movements  of  tliouulit  are  governed 
by  ruling  ideas, — ideas  which  present  certain  great 
ends  as  supremely  desirable,  and  so  become,  in  the 
true  sense,  ideals.  Chief  among  all  such  is  the 
idea  of  the  Kingdom.  It  is  the  great  ideal  which 
is  to  be  realized  in  and  through  the  love  of  the 
Father,  by  the  submission  of  human  hearts  to  the 
Son,  and  under  the  superintending  influence  of  the 
Holy  Ghost.  Tims  the  aims  of  men  are  to  be  sub- 
ordinated to  the  one  .supreme  end,  that  at  la-st  the 
Kingdom  may  come  in  its  fulness. 

Literature. — It  is  not ' 
witfi  this  subject,  as  nil  <■< 

'Life  of  Ciinsl  '  \    l" 

are;  Weis.s  /.  ' 

the  Messiah  ;  I '  iln,   ti    / 


I '';;; , 


Charles  F.  D'Arcy. 


776 


IDUMiEA 


ILLUSTRATI0X5 


IDUM^A  (NT  'ISoujuaio,  which  is  also  used 
the  LXX  for  the  Heb.  'Edom).— This  land  is  m 
tioned  once  only  in  the  NT  (Mk  3«),  but  is  also 
notable  as  the  native  land  of  Herod  and  his  family 
The  Edom  of  the  OT  lay  between  the  Dead  Sea 
and  the  Gulf  of  Akabah.  In  the  early  part  of  the 
Jewish  exile  many  of  the  Edomites  oveiTan  the 
south  of  Judfea,  and  when  the  Nabatseans,  at  some 
time  during  the  Persian  period,  conquered  their 
own  land,  many  more  joined  the  earlier  settlers  in 
South  Judc-ea,  and  that  district  became  known  as 
IdumjBa.  Thus  Idum.nea  at  the  time  of  Christ  was 
'practically  the  Southern  Shephelah  with  the 
Negeb'  (G.  A.  Smith,  HGHL  p.  239),  i.e.  roughly, 
all  south  of  a  line  from  Beth-sur  to  Gaza.  Judas 
Maccabseus  fought  against  the  Idum^ans  with 
much  success  (1  Mac  5')  in  164.  Fifty-five  years 
later,  John  Hyrcanus  conquered  the  country,  and 
compelled  the  people  to  be  circumcised  (Jos.  Ant. 
XIII.  ix.  1;  BJl.  ii.  6).  By  the  law  of  Dt  23"- » they 
thus  became  full  Jews  in  the  third  generation, 
though  Herod  himself  was  sometimes  reproached 
as  a  'half- Jew'  (Jos.  Ant.  xiv.  xv.  2).  Although 
the  Idunifeans  were  'sons  of  Esau,'  their  interests 
from  this  time  were  entirely  merged  with  those  of 
the  Jews,  and  their  country  was  reckoned  to  Judsea, 
Idumoea  being  counted  one  of  the  eleven  toparchies 
of  Judsea  in  Koman  times  (Jos.  BJ  III.  iii.  5). 

G.  W.  Thatcher. 
IGNORANCE.  —  1.  Rcliqions  ignorance  is  uni- 
formly regarded  in  the  Bible  as  a  moral  and  spiri- 
tual, and  not  merely  as  an  intellectual,  defect. 
Religious  ignorance  is  always  culpable,  because 
the  true  light  'lighteth  every  man'  (Jn  P).  The 
light  of  reason  and  of  conscience  shines  even  in  the 
darkness  of  heathenism,  and  the  heathen  are  plainly 
in  fault  if  they  'apprehend'  it  not  (v.^).  To  put 
the  matter  in  another  way,  the  truths  of  Natural 
Religion  carry  their  own  evidence  with  them,  and 
those  who  worship  the  creature  instead  of  the 
Creator,  or  who  deny  that  there  is  a  God,  or  who 
think  that  there  is  no  essential  diilerence  between 
virtue  and  vice,  A\-ilfully  blind  themselves  to  the 
truth  (cf.  Ro  l"-»,  Ac  14").  Yi-t  the  .ulial.ility 
of  the  heathen,  great  as  it  is,  is  l.~~  ili.ui  tliat  of 
those  who  have  received  the  lijiii  of  kn  ilation 
(Mt  10'=  12^1).  Our  Lord  specially  l.lam.s  the 
Samaritans  because,  having  received  the  Law,  they 
nevertheless  remained  in  ignorance  of  its  Author 
(Jn  4~  RV),  and  neglected  to  worship  Him  in  the 
place  which  He  had  chosen.  But  far  more  culpable 
than  the  half-heathen  Samaritans  were  the  Jews, 
who  had  behind  them  a  long  religious  ancestry  of 
patriarchs  and  prophets  (Ro  9°),  who  inherited  the 
promises,  and  to  whom  were  committed  the  oracles 
of  God  (3=  ff").  The  chosen  race,  wilfully  blinding 
themselves  to  the  true  meaning  of  the  Scriptures  (Jn 
5«)  and  to  the  sitrns  of  the  times  (Mt  16^),  especi- 
ally thp  tpstim..nv  nt"  tlip  r.nj.tist  ^.Tn  3=«-3=)  and 
the  wnr.i-  -!.!  v..;i,.  ,,f  J,.,,,.  ,\i,  n-".  ,Inl(P14" 
15=^).   ^'.  :  :      -,    '  Muth  hidden 

from   ll |M!,.i.;i-     \li     I,,     ,    m.hI   l>y  having 

their  ^puiuial  ii.i-.-i -i.ui.lu,-  .i.ukv-iied '(Mt  13'=, 
2  Co  3'^).  Of  til"  l.u-  il.r  most  culpable  were  the 
leaders — the  ,S'.'./  '  s.  Kcr m-e  they  were  ignorant 
of  the  resurrect iMii  .ui'l  tlii>  future  life,  truths 
inculcated  by  Moses  himselt  (Mt  22™) ;  and  the 
Pharisees  and  scribes,  those  blind  leaders  of  the 
blind,  who  led  their  unwary  followers  into  a  pit 
(15'*).  The  ca.se  of  the  Pharisees  was  particularly 
liopeless,  tecause,  being  Ignorant,  they  thouglit 
themselves  wise :  '  If  ye  were  blind  [and  acknow- 
ledged it],  ye  would  have  no  sin  ;  but  now  ye  saj', 
We  see  :  yo'ur  sin  remaineth '  (Jn  9*'). 

Ignorance  of  Jesus  is  treated  in  the  Gospels  as 
equivalent  to  ignorance  of  God  :  '  Ye  know  neither 
me  nor  my  Father ;  if  ye  knew  me,  ye  would  know 
my  Father  also'  (8");   'No  man  cometh  to  the 


Father  but  by  me.  If  ye  had  known  me,  ye  would 
have  known  my  Father  also'  (14').  If  men  do  not 
come  to  a  knowledge  of  Christ  in  this  world,  Christ 
will  profess  Himself  ignorant  of  them  in  the  next, 
and  this  will  exclude  them  from  the  joys  of  heaven 
(Mt  25'-'  7^).  Yet  the  obligation  to  know  Christ  in 
this  world  applies  only  to  those  to  whom  the  gospel 
has  been  actually  preached  (Mk  16"-  "*). 

The  reason  why  ignorance  of  Christ  is  regarded 
as  a  sin  is  that  the  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus  is  spiritu- 
ally discerned  (1  Co  2'*).  Lovers  of  truth,  whose 
lives  are  virtuous  and  holj',  perceive  intuitively 
that  the  teaching  of  Jesus  comes  from  God  :  '  Every 
one  that  doeth  ill  hateth  the  light,  and  cometh  not 
to  the  light.  .  .  .  But  he  that  doeth  the  truth 
cometh  to  the  light,'  etc.  (Jn  3™). 

Among  the  '  Seven  Words '  spoken  by  Jesus  from 
the  Cross  there  is  one  which  bears  upon  this  sin  of 
ignorance  :  '  Father,  forgive  them  ;  for  they  know 
not  what  they  do'  (Lk  2Z^).  In  sayin"  this  He 
renewed  that  condemnation  which  He  had  often 
passed  upon  religious  ignorance,  for  He  implied 
that  those  who  slew  Him  had  need  of  the  Father's 
forgiveness — His  own  forgiveness  the  words  them- 
selves express.  But  what  the  saj-ing  immediately 
proclaims  is  that  the  sin  of  ignorance  is  not  beyond 
forgiveness,  even  when  it  has  led  to  the  darkest  of 
crimes  ;  nay,  that  ignorance  itself  may  be  pleaded 
in  extenuation  (yap)  before  Him  who  knoweth  all. 
(On  the  genuineness  of  the  saying  see  Meyer, 
Alford,  WH  [Appendix]). 

2.  Chrisfs  ignorance,  or  limitation  of  knowledge 
—See  COX.SCIOUSNESS,  Kenosis. 


ILLUSTRATIONS.— The  use  of  illustrations  is  a 
noticeable  mark  of  Jesus'  teaching.  He  spoke  in 
similes  and  metaphors  and  parables  ;  general  rules 
He  illustrated  by  examples  or  stated  in  concrete 
instances.  His  aim  may  be  gathered  from  ob- 
serving what  uses  the  method  actually  served. 

Stories  and  similes,  concrete  facts  and  instances, 
catch  the  ear  of  the  people.  He  who  would  win 
their  attention  must  trick  out  his  message  in 
pictorial  garb ;  he  must  weave  in  his  truth  with 
earthly  fact  and  incident  on  the  loom  of  fancy. 
Such  teaching  also  remains  in  the  memory.  Truth 
pictured  makes  vivid  appeal  to  the  eye,  and  what 
the  eye  sees  the  memory  retains,  store  for  mind 
and  heart  to  brood  over.  Jesus  knew  what  was  in 
man,  and,  desiring  His  message  to  be  current  coin 
for  all,  treasure  of  life  for  the  simplest.  He  spoke 
in  pictures  and  similitudes. 

Illustrative  examples  serve  also  to  make  abstract 
truth  more  easily  understood.  A  tale  may  enter 
in  at  lowly  doors,  bearing  its  load  of  truth  and 
suggestion,  when  a  truth  stated  abstractly  would 
remain  without.  The  concreteness  of  the  poet, 
his  vision  of  truth  and  symbol  wedded  together, 
of  principle  incarnated  in  fact,  is  closely  akin  to 
the  ordinary  man's  ways  of  thinking  and  speak- 
ing. It  is  primary  ;  the  alistractness  of  thought, 
the  language  of  reflexion  and  analysis,  is  second- 
ary. Jesus  spake  to  the  people  after  their  own 
fashion. 

These  uses  are  obvious  ;  but  they  are  only  sur- 
face explanations  ;  they  hardly  touch  the  main 
purpose.  When  Jesus  said  (Mt  7"""),  '  What  man 
is  tliere  of  you,  who,  if  his  .son  ask  a  loaf,  will 
give  him  a  stone?  If  ye  then,  licing  evil,  know 
how  to  give  good  gifts  unto  your  children,  how 
much  more  sluill  your  F.itljir  wliicli  is  in  heaven 
give  good  things  to  tlicin  tliat  a-.k  liiui?'.  He  was 
aiming  at  something  irioip  than  a  clear  and  strik- 
ing presentation  of  His  tmth.  He  was  speaking 
from  the  heart  to  the  heart,  appealing  to  their 
feeling  for  what  is  highest  and  best,  for  what  is 


ILLUSTRATION'S 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


777 


reasonable  to  faith  in  goodness.  His  illustration 
was  an  argument  addressed  to  the  heart.  '  In 
theology,'  it  is  said  to  be  an  axiom  that  '  parables 
do  not  act  as  arguments'  (Trench"*,  p.  40  n.);  but 
they  may  in  the  sphere  of  faith.  The  parable  of  the 
Unmerciful  Servant  (Mt  18="-)  was  an  answer  to 
Peter's  question,  '  How  often  shall  we  forgive  ? '  It 
gives  no  direct  answer  to  that  question.  It  is 
spoken  not  to  the  discursive  intelligence  busy 
about  problems,  but  straight  to  the  indigna- 
tions of  the  generous  spirit.  The  better  nature  is 
enlisted  against  the  man  forgiven  who  was  not 
made  thereby  tender-hearted  and  pitiful.  When 
the  lawyer  put  the  searching  question,  '  But  who 
is  my  neighbour?'  (Lk  10--'),  Jesus  told  the  story 
of  the  Good  Samaritan.  That  parable  also  does 
not  answer  the  question  directly.  It  rather  sets 
before  the  heart  the  beauty  of  kindness,  and  its 
power  to  break  down  liarricrs  between  men  which 
the  neighbourhoods  of  race  and  religion  may  leave 
standing.  An  idea,  such  as  that  all  men  are 
potentially  brothers,  is  apt  to  be  barren,  with- 
out conviction,  without  power  of  intellectual  or 
spiritual  inspiration  ;  a  story  such  as  this  appeals 
to  the  human  heart  by  which  we  live,  that  tender- 
ness in  us  which  leaps  up  in  admiration  of  a  good 
man's  deed. 

The  aim  of  our  Lord's  teaching  was  not  en- 
lightenment, the  bringing  of  clear  ideas  to  the 
mind  :  it  was  to  create  faith  and  sustain  it.  And 
the  form  of  His  teacliing— His  parables,  similes, 
metaphors,  concrete  instances — was  a  means  to 
serve  that  end.  '  After  all,'  says  Newman  (Grniii. 
of  Assent,  94),  'man  is  not  a  reasoning  animal; 
lie  is  a  seeing,  feeling,  contemplating,  acting 
animal.'  It  is  by  the  lieart  that  man  believes 
unto  salvation.  There  is  the  seat  of  the  emotions, 
the  joy  we  have  in  things,  the  intuitions  of  faith, 
the  admirations  which  rule  conduct  and  fashion 
character  and  shape  our  beliefs.  The  heart  has 
its  own  reasons  :  visions  of  what  is  nol>le  and  fair, 
spells  mighty  there.  And  .Jesus'  illustr.-itions  are 
mostly  pictures  painted  for  that  inward  eye,  music 
played  that  the  ear  of  faith  there  may  hear. 

Many  of  Jesus'  parables  and  pictures  are  more 
than  mere  illustrations  ;  they  have  in  them  the 
imagination's  power  of  interpretation,  the  reveal- 
ing vision  of  the  poet.  The  parable  of  the  Pharisee 
and  the  Publican  (Lk  IS""')  is  more  than  an  illus- 
trative example,  it  is  as  Jiilicher  classes  it,  'an 
example  of  the  spiritual  worth  of  humility  before 
God.'  It  reveals,  as  in  a  transjiarency,  the  essential 
and  hidden  evil  of  a  religious  class.  Our  Lord's  con- 
troversy with  the  Pliarisees  sums  itself  up  in  this 
revealing  picture  where  the  inner  spirit  and  ten- 
dency of  Pharisaism  is  brought  to  a  luminous  point. 
The  parable  has  the  force  of  a  revelation,  suddenly 
illumining  a  whole  spiritual  world.  The  same 
quality  is  in  the  illustrations  of  hypocrisy  in  Mt  6. 
These  kindle  a  light  in  the  spiritual  imagination. 
Jesus  takes  the  cases  of  almsgiving,  prayer,  fasting. 
These  are  not  chosen  as  representing  the  three 
spiritual  worlds,  or  spheres  of  duty— neighbour, 
God,  self  (Gore).  That  activity  of  the  schematizing 
intellect  is  foreign  to  the  whole  method  of  Jesus. 
These  were  the  fashionable  religious  virtues  of  the 
day,  and  therefore  the  chosen  theatre  of  hypocrisy  : 
self-seeking  in  religion  leaves  the  humble  seques- 
tered virtues  alone  ;  and  Christ's  pictures  of  ostenta- 
tious service  there,  have  that  direct  illumination  of 
the  religious  and  ethical  iiii.i'^iii.Uinn  which  sets  it 
free  from  the  bondage  of  .ill  .xi  n  ii.ili-in.  \hinv 
of  the  parables  have'this  ,|n.tlii y,  -u,  h  .i-  i\„-  s,, ',( 
Growing  in  Secret,  the  tiuud  ,'-^.iiiiurit:ui.  ilic  I'u- 
merciful  Servant,  the  Prodigal  Son,  the  Two 
Debtors. 

In  the  Synoptic  Gospels  there  is  an  explanation 
of  Jesus'  use  of  jmrables  which  is  a  startling  paradox. 


It  is  tiiat  He  spake  to  those  without  in  parables, 
and  that  He  tlid  so  to  hide  His  meaning  (Mt  13'"■'^ 
Mk  4"- '-,  Lk  8").  It  is  easy  to  show  that  these 
words  are  not  universally  true,  and  that  the  aim 
of  Jesus  generally  was  to  make  Himself  under- 
stood. So  Jiilicher  (^MPyc.  Bibl.  art.  'Parables') 
rejects  this  conception,  placed  on  the  lips  of  Jesus, 
as  quite  unhistorical.  But  we  hnd  that  in  all  these 
Gospels  this  exjilanation  occurs  at  one  place, 
namely,  between  the  parable  of  the  Sower  as  spoken 
to  those  without  and  its  interpretation  to  the  dis- 
ciples. And  there  tlie  words  have  a  real  signifi- 
cance. The  parable  did  not  convey  its  meaning  on 
the  face  of  it.  In  the  circumstances  in  which  it 
was  spoken,  it  was  largely  an  utterance  of  the 
ironic  spirit.  Jesus  was  looking  on  the  multitudes, 
drawn  together  by  curiosity  and  various  motives, 
caring  so  little,  most  of  them,  for  the  truths 
He  had  to  tell  them  ;  and  He  gave  utterance  to 
the  pathetic  thoughts  of  His  spirit.  He  spoke 
this  parable  which  tells  the  disappointments  of  a 
prophet  and  the  hope  that  sustains  him,  the  faith 
that  some,  his  sheep,  will  know  his  voice.  It  is  a 
simple  enough  parable;  and  yet  a  veil  does  rest 
upon  it  for  the  careless  unspiritual  many  who  are 
listening,  though  not  any  veil  of  subtle  allegory. 
Jesus  is  speaking  of  hopes  and  fears  they  compre- 
hend not  :  and,  looking  on  them  in  their  ignorance, 
it  was  natural  tliat  the  words  of  old  prophecy,  with 
their  kindred  patlios  and  irony,  should  come  to 
His  lips,  and  He  should  .speak  about  those  who 
hearing  iinderstood  not  and  whose  hearts  were 
darkened.  That  explanation  has  in  it  a  hint  of 
wider  suggestiveness.  Clearness  ami  directness  of 
speech  are  not  the  only  sources  of  enlightenment. 
'  Art  may  tell  a  truth  obliquely,  do  the  thing  shall 
breed  the  thought.'  A  truth  stated  objectively, 
indirectly,  in  the  form  of  a  stoiy,  may  not  compel 
the  understanding ;  careless  ones  may  hear  it  as 
though  they  heard  it  not ;  but  it  has  greater  effective- 
ness witli  those  who  receive  it.  That  is  exempli- 
fied in  Jesus'  latest  parables.  These  are  parables 
of  judgment ;  the  shadow  of  the  Cross  rests  on 
them.  In  them,  by  their  very  form,  the  meaning 
is  veiled  somewhat.  The  intention  and  the  value 
of  that  stand  out  strongly  in  this  contrast.  When 
Stephen  stood  before  the  Sanhedrin,  he  said :  '  Ye 
stiff-necked  and  nncircumeised  in  heart  and  ears, 
ye  do  always  resist  the  Holy  Ghost :  as  your  fathers 
did,  so  do  ye '  .  .  .  (Ac  l-''^"-).  There  is  no  mistaking 
that  accusation,  or  evading  it ;  but  there  is  no 
persuasion  there.  No  wonder  the  bold  truth- 
speaker  was  stoned.  Jesus  says  to  His  enemies, 
'  Hear  another  parable '  ;  and  after  the  parable  of 
the  Two  Sons,  He  tells  the  ]nv:\]>]c  of  tlic  House- 
holder :iimI  lii,Vincy,n.l.      It  i,  t  hr  ..inii' rhnrue,  but 

thouuht,-.  ihat  i>  :i  way  nt  i.i-i-iiaMnn  :  sympathy 
and  love,  wliicli  are  tlie  sources  of  persuasiveness, 
have  woven  a  vesture  for  the  truth  that,  through 
the  imagination,  it  may  reach  the  heart.  See  art. 
Parables. 

One  great,  though  iinliicit.  \ahu'  of  Jesus'  illus- 


trations  must 

not  be  1 

11— ei 

their  witness  to 

the  ma 

.iHew 
(1)    H 

IS,  their 
is    h"un 

r\  ea 

11.^  . 

1   His  mind  and 

heart. 

live 

li.ell 

..,1    of    teaching 

reveals 

the  fashion"  of 

His 

lun.l. 

1-anai    speaki 

of  '  that  kind 

metaphorical 

nielli 

111  ut  e\|iression 

which 

our   Blessed   Lo 

'd  ac 

0|ile, 

.'          Ilie     ihuUght 

there  i 

of  as 

irtir     a 

'rZ^Uul 

upoi 

to 

mind   llii.iugh  a 
His    simple    un- 

Iran,'',' 

:  1  -   I  1  H  H 

■,!.   1 

e  first  had  a  thought, 

a>Ml  Ih, 

11  scale 

aie  > 

mple 

familiar  picture 

tu  cxpi 

CSS    it. 

Ihll    a    1 

(aist.i 

mary  method  of 

.speech  shows 
' reasoned  in  f 

lis  lualin 

•1   111 

'     Mr 

in-.'     Our  Lord 

■ea\l^ 

had  an  eye  for 

nature 

Tho  ight  uud 

iliia' 

1'  y.r 

.    horn  together 

in  His 

seeing 

"His  wa 

,    tliC 

pucL 

■,  mind,  with  its 

?78 


IMAGE 


iMAGillATioJi 


concreteness  and  beauty,  its  outlook  of  the  whole 
personality,  its  individual  vision  of  things  flushed 
with  emotion  ;  and  the  pictures  He  set  in  the  light 
give  joy  to  the  generations  as  they  pass,because  they 
Hrst  of  all  gave  joy  to  Himself  as  they 


imagination.  (2)  Thi'  ilhi 
also  the  simplicity  and  fiilii 
It  is  amazing  how  the  idini 
in  procession  through  His  ^ 


in  His 
He  uses  reveal 
of  I  lis  interest  in  life 
1  lifi'  of  His  day  passes 
ds  1    The  sower  in  the 


fields,  the  merchant  on  his  travels,  the  fisherman 
on  the  beach  looking  over  his  catch,  the  labour 
waiting  to  be  hired  in  the  marketplace,  the  beggar 
at  the  rich  man's  gate  and  the  dogs  licking 
sores,  the  clamorous  woman  with  her  wrongs  at 
the  unjust  judge's  door,  the  poor  woman  turning 
her  house  upside  down  for  her  lost  coin,  the  play 
of  the  little  children  in  the  streets ;  and  even  the 
faults  and  follies  of  men,  the  Pharisee  with  his 
broad  phylacteries  and  wide  fringes  praying  osten 
tatiously  at  tlie  street  corners,  the  craft  of  the  dis 
honest  stewanl,  the  son  wIid  s;iys  'I  go,  sir,' and 
goes  iimI,  ilie  ,■111X1. Ill-  li,i-.i  lic-.jiiiu-  for  a  loaf  at 
niidiiivl.l,  :iiia  111.'  ,-iuinl.liiiL;  lii.-u.l  in  bed  with 
hischiMieii  .ill  , -peak  ef  til.' interest  with  which 
Jesus  looked  on  life.  '  The  learned  eye  is  still  the 
loving  one. '  He  was  no  thinker  whose  mind  ranged 
among  ideas,  no  dreamer  living  in  a  world  of  ideals. 
His  heart  was  amid  the  pell-mell  of  ordinarj'  life, 
ordinary  men,  and  ordinary  duties ;  His  thoughts 
of  religion  found  their  sphere  there. 

(3)  Jesus'  outlook  on  Nature  was  full  of  joy.  That 
is  shown,  not  so  much  by  the  abundance  of  His 
references,  as  bj'  the  liglit  in  which  He  places  them, 
the  thoughts  they  brought  to  Him.  He  speaks  of 
the  hen  gathering  lier  chickens  under  her  wings, 
symbol  of  His  own  prnti-etiim  lovi-  for  Jerusalem  ; 
tlie  sparrows,  objects  of  (l.i.l  -  .,in.;  the  grass  in 
its  beauty  and  the  lili.s  ..ul  \  \  me  the  splendour  of 
Solomon,  symbols  of  tiie  (  ii:it..i  s  joy  in  the  Avork 
of  His  hands,  seeing  He  tlms  elotlies  these  casual 
flowers  of  a  day  with  such  loveliness  and  grace. 
He  touches  also' the  common  things  of  our  life  with 
the  sudden  glory  of  poetry— tlie  growing  of  the 
corn,  symbol  of  the  upsprinj;ine  ..t  life  in  human 

souls;  the  care  of  parents  in  tie-  In. ,  -\  ml.ol  of  the 

sleepless  providence  of  the  ll.in  .-nl)  I  ,it  h.T  over 
all  His  children;  servants  wailing  f.ir  their  lord, 
symbol  of  our  duty  to  an  unseen  Master.  When 
Jesus  looked  on  Nature  and  the  universal  order  of 
man's  life,  something  great  shone  through — a  Divine 
and  beautiful  mystery.  It  all  spake  of  the  Father 
in  heaven  who  made  and  loves  it  all ;  it  was  all 
instinct  with  the  presence  of  God's  Spirit.  The 
beauty  of  religion,  its  tenderness  and  grace,  is 
there;  and  tlie  s|,iritiial  'jlory  of  life.  That  is  an 
outlook  of  til. ■  full.'  I  I..V 


ly  Trench,  Arnot,  Dods, 
W.'i/J) ;   .liilirhcr,   Die 


LlTEKATURF.       I.  i 

Bruce;  St«iniii.\.  r,  /" 
Gteichnisreden  Jen  ,  in 
Gleichnisse  Jem  ■  Wentll, 
§2;Plummer,art. 'Paral. 
nf  the  Life  of  Christ,  or  ; 
Lives  of  C'hri.st. 


IMAGE.— This  is  the  tr.  in  AV  and  HV  of  ekiix. 
In  the  Go.spels  it  occurs  only  in  Mt  22-'"  ||  Mk  12'" 
II  Lk  20^,  where,  in  Christ's  answer  as  to  the  legality 
of  the  Roman  tribute,  it  refers  to  the  likeness  of 
the  niiperor  Tiberius. 

IMAGINATION.- 

Imagination  is  the  faculty  liy  which  we  are  able  to  reproduce 
mentally  the  images  or  '  cojiies '  of  past  elements  of  sense- 
experience.  This  may  be  (lone  in  three  ways :  (1)  passively,  as 
when  we  roprortnro  nnr  m.nt.il  pi.turos  in  tbc  tnmi  .n-  .n.l.r 


il>roduce  visual  images  (artists), 
iiisiuians),  others  the  ini:ij;^es  of 

■  dramatic  gift).    The  i)oetie  or 

■  endowed  with  all  these  apti- 
s  in  the  presentation 
I  for  inculcating  its 

Students  of  our  Lord's  personality  will  at  once 
recognize  that  He  possessed  the  creative  tempera- 
ment in  its  noblest  development.  He  was  psychi- 
cally endowed  with  a  rich  and  varied  imagination, 
which  was  disciplined,  like  all  His  human  gifts,  to 
the  finest  pitch  of  efficiency,  and  consecrated  to 
the  highest  uses.  His  discourses  are  crowded  with 
bright  and  vivid  pictures,  symbolic  of  the  great 
truths  which  He  had  come  to  reveal.  They  are 
expressed  in  language  that  is  rich,  musical,  and 
full  of  verbal  colour  and  rhythmic  phrases.  In 
the  narrative  portions  and  the  parables  there  is 
also  a  striking  dramatic  element,  which  gives 
them  wonderful  life  and  movement. 

1.  Characteristics  of  the  imagination  of  Jesus. — • 
It  is  the  last  feature— the  dramatic — which  is  the 
most  prominent  quality  in  the  imagination  of  our 
Lord.  If  the  form  of  His  teaching  can  be  relied 
on  as  an  indication  of  His  mental  endowments,  it 
is  clear  that  truth  naturally  clothed  itself  for  Him 
in  the  form  of  concrete  pictures  and  symbolic 
events.  This  is  probably  the  key  to  the  Tempta- 
tion scenes  so  vividly  described  in  Mt  4'-".  The 
temptations  of  His  public  life  became  visualized 
in  these  typical  scenes,  and  in  fighting  them  thus 
prophetically.  He  rehearsed  the  long  drama  of  His 
tuture  spiritual  conflicts,  and  overcame  them  be- 
forehand. The  same  dramatic  way  of  dealing  with 
the  critical  facts  of  His  life  and  work  may  be  seen 
in  such  incidents  as  are  detailed  in  Mt  ^-^  2P' 
263i'-»,  Lk  10'»,  and  inany  others.  This  instinctive 
love  of  a  diaiiiati.'  -if nation  as  the  vehicle  of  im- 
parting s]iiritnal  tnilli.  is  illustrated  also  in  the 
frequent  use  ..f  ol.j.it  l.'ssons  full  of  incident  and 
movement.  S.uii.tiin.s  He  made  a  sudden  and 
skilful  use  of  opportunities  ofl'ered  to  Him  in  the 
course  of  social  intercourse,  as  in  Mk  5*'  10"  12^', 
Lk  S'*  ?■"  14'""  17"  etc.  In  other  cases  He  de- 
liberately created  the  situation,  and  then  drew  the 
lesson  with  wliieh  li.'  d.sire.l  to  impress  the  spec- 
t.-it.iis.  a.  iti  Mk  II  ■.  \lt  is^  ',  Lk  22"-»',  and  Jn 
l.'i--'-.  ('I'll.,  ill. a. 1. ail  .if  llie  lUastod  Fig-tree,  if 
understixi.l  .is  a  siiii|.|.'  I.ni  \  n  iil  action-parable, 
loses  all  tlie  I'llii.al  liitlii  nil  i.s  which  have  hidden 
its  meanini;  fi.aii  s,,  Miaii\-  .  .iiiiinentators). 

The  plcliiri'il  siile  1.1  mil  Li. Ill's  imagination  is 
soarcply  l.'-s  iihvion.-.  than  llic  dramatic.  He  was 
tenipeiaiiH  nlally  as  well  iis  spiritually  in  the 
ilee|i.M     yiii|iailiy  with  Nature  m  all  her  varying 

111 Is.  le  1  Health  of  life,  her  process  of  growth; 

ami  He  was  a  keen  and  accurate  observer  of  her 
ways,  showing  a  vivid  interest  in  the  life  of  plants 
and  animals  (Mt  6=8  7'°  Q^Sr")  and  in  the  common 
experiences  of  human  life.  These  impressions 
were  all  stored  up,  as  He  watched  them,  in  the 
treasure-house  of  a  faultless  memory,  to  be  after- 
wards used  as  drapery  for  the  everlasting  truths 
of  the  Kingdom  in  a  way  which  makes  many  of 
His  discourses  a  jierfect  arabesque  of  beautiful 
imngery.  His  )iredominating  love,  however,  was 
for  images  ilrawii  from  the  incidents  of  human  life 
and  e.\]ierienee.  He  seldom  used  imagery  of  a 
])iiiely  iialni-al  kiii.l.  (...  drawn  from  the  imper- 
si.ii.al'  .Liinai  ..f  |ili\-i.al  or  vital  forces :  there  is 
ii...irlv.al\\a\    -..lie-  Inn  nan  .agent  or  .suft'erer  in  view 


IMAGlNATlOlsr 


IMITATION 


779 


the  home, — marriage  ceremonies,  feasts,  saluta- 
tions, journeyings ;  and  even  from  hodily  life  and 
sensations, — the  eye,  ear,  bones,  feet,  hunger  and 
thirst,  laughing,  mournin",  sickness,  sleep,  etc. 
Our  Lord's  use  of  natural  imagery  may  oe  put 
into  words  -written  elsewhere  by  the  present 
writer . 


'Nature  is  interesting  to  Him  onh  as  t 

nreituiP^   or  of  Him  is  the  Cieator  rf  1 
The       Id  Hinelbonal  attitude  of  tlK 

Him  IS  thL  Mluck  of  truth  as  appi     I 
bundli-  of  analoties  m  the  sense  ot  tht  j 

e  handiwork  ot  Got) 

1  nl     1     nrc  for  His 

'is 
ilh 

Two  worlds  are  curb     tis  a 

Forbids  us  to  de'scrv 
The  nn  stio  earth  and  heav 

in  alone 
n  within 

In  this 
thenis 

iiched  and  im 
at  ions  lesolve 
t  liuinan  dutj 

Th( 
fmally. 


W  1 


the  r,?/isf><  i(i  'f/n 
He  spoke  m  tlie  dialeit  of  Uit  <  i  m  ii  |  |  k  oi 
(occa-sionallj  at  least)  m  thxt  tcniii  i  1  (  u  <  k  which 
■nas  commonly  known  m  Palestine,  in  which  the 
Gospels  have  come  down  to  us,  it  is  unquestionable 
that  even  if  we  have  His  discourses  only  in  trans- 
lation, they  are  full  of  characteristic  qualities  of 
vividness,  terseness,  and  colour.  His  use  of  popular 
proverbs  in  fi-esh  applications  (Mt  9'^  '^  1^  5"  6=' 
H15  123V  162S,  Mk  10=»-2'  etc.) ;  His  love  of  paradox 
(see  Mt  5^-*-  for  four  striking  instances  of  this ; 
also  Mk  10=3  and  Jn  6'>') ;  the  exquisite  grace  of 
some  of  His  descriptions  of  natural  jiroccsses  (Mt 
628ff.  7248-.)^  and  of  social  functions  (Mt  25'-'=),  to- 
gether -with  the  symmetrical  build  of  many  of  His 
sentences  and  discourses  (esp.  Mt  ^o^'"^"),  show  a 
mastery  over  the  resources  of  lano;uage  to  which 
onljr  a  poet  wliose  natural  gift  had  been  carefully 
disciplined  to  high  uses  could  attain.  The  more 
the  form  of  our  Lord's  teaching  is  studied,  the 
more  does  this  verbal  skill  impress  the  reader  as 
complete  and  minute. 

2.  Practical  uses  of  this  i/inii/iii'i/in-  clement  in 
our  Lord's  discourses.-  'I'lic  im-i  iK.d  <>(  .Jesus  being 
exclusivelj^  oj-a^,  it  is  c.i-y  In  ~'c  liow  valuable  is 
this  pictorial,  dramatic,  \ivi(Uy  ixjin^sed  quality 
that  runs  through  them  all.  In  i.r.lcr  th:it  tliis 
method  should  lie  effective  umlcr  the  rinum 
stances  of  the  time,  it  was  essenti.il  l!i:i(.  it  should 
have  the  marks  of  simplicity,  roiirrc/ciicss,  vivid- 
ness, and  brevity.  It  must  be  siiiqilc,  as  it  was 
meant  to  become  cun-ent  not  amongst  scholars, 
disciplined  in  the  use  of  complicated  trains  of 
thought,  well  used  to  nl^tract  lines  of  reasoning, 
and  capable  of  rii.iinin  j  l\ii-~c  in  their  memory  for 
a  long  time,  hnl  unioiijsi  thi;  common  crowd  of 
listeners  who  h.ul  ikmI  cjnly  an  elementary  educa- 
tion, and  were  iiicajialilc  ol  giving  a  close  and  sus- 
tained attention  to  any  train  of  thought.  It  must 
be  concrete,  because  such  people  always  thought 
and  spoke  in  sucli  terms  as  were  closely  allied  to 
their  daily  cx]H-vicii,e.  T(  must  l,r  ;■;,•/,/,  because 
othcrwis,.  ,,..  .lrr|,  .,!■  l,'is|iii.j-  iiii|,icssi,,iL  cuuld  lie 
made  cm  -nf\i  i.crii-iiiii.-il  and  inisinilied  oppor- 
tunities  .-ls  ,,iir  Lord  li.Ml.ilu;illv  iis.-d  lo  di.ss,.iniiiate 
His  teaching,  And  it  must  lie  hrirf  and  pm-tuhlr, 
for  it  was  meant  not  merely  for  those  who  listiMied 
to  Him  at  the  time,  but  also  for  those  who  slionl.l 
afterwards  'believe  in  his  name'  tlirounh  the 
'  preaching  and  teaching  '  of  tlie  eye-witnesses  and 
auditors  of  His  earthly  ministry.  All  these  ends 
were  perfectly  served  by  the  imaginative  method 
of  presenting  truth  chosen  by  the  Great  Teacher, 
and  consisl. 'Idly  followed  by  Him  throughout  His 
public  life.  His  \\isdoiii  i's  shown  by  the  event. 
It  was  ]'icd..ildy  iii.niy  years  before  any  large  por- 
tion of  His  disrouises  and  life-story  was  committed 


to  writing.  But  there  are  clear  indications  that 
great  care  was  taken  to  give  the  general  outlines  of 
the  teaching  accurately  and  without  admixtme,  and 
that  the  utmost  reverence  w-as  felt  for  the  ipsissima 
verba  of  their  Lord's  utterances  by  the  Apostles 
and  their  first  pupils.  Converts  were  carefully 
taught  fiom  the  earliest  times  in  catechumen 
classes  m  the  '  doctrine  of  Christ '  (cf.  1  Co  15", 
Col  2"  Lk  1'  -),  and  they  were  counselled  to  be 
sped  ill  J  (  tieful  to  retain  and  transmit  the  exact 
toriii  111  whuh  the  teaching  (the  'fair  deposit 'of 
tiuth)  h  id  been  delivered  to  them  (cf.  2  Ti  1",  a 
very  si^iuhcant  passage).  It  was  only  as  these 
first  witnesses  were  one  by  one  removed  by  death, 
or  so  scattered  as  to  be  beyond  the  reach  of  appeal, 
that  any  need  for  a  written  version  of  the  Gospel 
began  to  be  felt  Then  the  immediate  disciples  of 
the  Apostles  w  ould  endeavour  to  perpetuate  their 
lecord  of  the  words  and  deeds  of  Christ  by  com- 
mitting it  to  writing.  In  this  way  the  first  two 
Synoptic  Gospels  may  have  taken  shape,  using  the 
common  basis  of  the  oral  Gospel  as  a  foundation 
on  w  Inch  to  build  In  time  various  versions  would 
ause,  which  were  collated  and  welded  together 
into  a  nioie  accurate  whole  by  scholarly  men  such 
as  St.  Luke  (1'"^).  Finally,  as  the  last  survivor  of 
the  original  group  passed  away,  his  followers 
would  have  a  strong  desire  to  rescue  his  personal 
reminiscences  from  oblivion  ere  it  was  too  late,  and 
thus  the  Fourth  Gospel  arose  as  a  supplement  to 
the  others. 

If  the  Gospels  and  the  Epistles  are  compared  as 
to  their  form,  further  light  is  shed  on  the  wisdom 
of  our  Lord  in  using  the  imaginative  style  of 
speech  as  a  vehicle  for  His  oral  teaching.  St. 
Paul'.s  involved  literary  style,  full  as  it  is  of 
technical  terms,  long  sentences,  and  abstract 
trains  of  reasoning,  could  not  possibly  have  served 
as  the  vehicle  of  a  spoken  Gospel,  though,  as  a 
supplementary  commentary  and  exposition  of  the 
truths  enshrined  in  that  Gospel,  it  is  admirably 
adapted  for  its  purpose  ;  and  the  same  is  true, 
with  qualihcatioiis,  of  the  other  NT  writers. 

3.  A  lesson  fi.r  ///c,,/,,  ,-,v.— The  example  of  the 
Great  Teachei'  still  :i]i|ilies  to  those  wliose  business 
it  is  to  carry  on  I  he  (  lni-ii.ui  function  of  jireach- 
ing.  In  more  illileiate  periods,  preachers  naturally 
followed  this  method  of  putting  their  discourses 
into  ::  eonerete,  illustrative,  and  vivid  style;  but 
,is  hooks  have  spread,  and  the  habit  of  reading 
lias  heeonie  general,  there  has  been  a  gi'owing  ten- 
dency tip  tliiow  sermons  into  a  more  literary  form. 
While  this  hns  lieen  |i;iii  ly  inevitable  and  is  so  far 
justiliulde,  it  is  eertain  I  hat  the  pulpit  has  lost 
much  of  its  inllueiiec  lieeause  of  this  unconscious 
change  of  method.  All  sjjokcn  discourse  should 
aim  at  tlie  qualities  of  simplicity,  concreteness, 
\i\idness,  and  brevity  of  expression,  which  are  so 
remarkalJe  a  feature  in  the  discourses  and  parables 
of  Christ.  The  very  plethora  of  books  makes  this 
specially  needful  in  an  age  when  the  human  mind 
is  overbmdened  with  the  rushing  details  of  daily 
experience,  and  the  c\anesi-ent  apiical  of  ephemeral 
literature.  Unique  as  are  many  of  the  qualities 
that  belong  to  Christ  as  a  [.rea.  her,  and  makin^ 
due  allowance  for  the  coll  I  rasi  hcdwcen  the  Oriental 
environment  in  which  He  lived  and  that  of  our 
own  clay,  there  is  nothing  that  more  needs  to  be 
liiiilt  into  our  training  of  young  preachers  than  a 
close  study  of  the  method  of  the  Master  with  a 
view  to  adapt  it  to  our  own  day  and  circiun- 
stances. 


IMITATION 1.  Christian  Ethics  was  roughly 

constituted  in  the  early  centuries  by  the  reco^i- 
tion  of  two  moralities— common  morality,  requiring 


780 


IMITATION 


IMITATION 


a  iiiiuimum  of  obedience  to  law  from  those  living 
in  the  world,  and  first-class  morality,  the  super- 
legal  or  supererogatory  goodness  of  those  who 
practised  asceticism.  Into  the  service  of  the 
latter,  with  its  'counsels  of  perfection'  (1  Co  7°^ 
with  Mt  19-' — these  texts  are  very  early  applied  in 
this  fashion),  all  Christian  enthusiasm  tended  to 
pour  itself.  This  more  exacting  life  is  praised  as 
makinq  men  resemble  the  angels.  Christ  had  de- 
scribed the  angels  as  unwedded  (Mt  22^  ||) ;  an 
age,  preoccupied  with  problems  of  sex,  fastened 
upon  this  as  the  leading  truth  in  regard  to  those 
exalted  beings.  But  it  is  in  point  of  fact  a  mere 
external— and  therefore,  of  course,  it  is  imitable  ! 
The  essential  thing  is,  that  angels  '  fulfil  God's 
word'  (Ps  103=").  To  our  Lord  Himself  this  was 
the  essential  about  them  :  '  Thy  will  be  done,  fts 
in  heaven,  so  on  earth'  (Mt  6^").  And,  when  we 
think  of  that  truth,  we  see  that  our  proper  pattern 
is  not  the  angels,  but  the  Son.  About  angels  we 
know  little,  if  anything,  that  is  certain.  They 
are  supernatural,  almost  unnatural  beings.  The 
Son  came  into  this  world  that  we  might  know 
Him,  and  has  obeyed  God's  will  under  our  own 
conditions,  in  their  extremest  and  most  burden- 
some type. 

2.  This  reinterpretation  —  imitation  of  Christ 
rather  than  of  angels— took  place  within  Catholic 
ethics,  \vitli  a  great  gain  in  the  direction  of  living 
Christian  truth.  The  most  conspicuous  leader  was 
St.Francisof  Assisi(1182-1226),  'thatchild  of  nature 
and  child  of  God,  half  an^el  and  half  nightingale ' 
(C.  Bigg).  Long  before  his  time,  the  pattern  of 
asceticism  had  been  summed  up  in  tliree  virtues. 
Poverty,  Chastity  (i.e.  celibacy),  and  Obedience. 
There  may  have  been  pre-Chnstian  influences  at 
work  in  so  moulding  Christian  monasticism.  But 
the  pattern  of  Christ  could  also  be  recognized  in 
these  virtues.  He  had  '  become  poor '  (2  Co  8') ; 
He  had  'made  himself  a  eunuch /or  the  kinr/dom 
of  heaven's  sake '  (Mt  19'-)  ;  He  had  been  '  obedi- 
ent even  unto  death,  yea,  the  death  of  the  cross ' 
(Ph  2*).  Of  course,  historical  knowledge  and  Chris- 
tian insight— but  the  Middle  Ages  were  weak  in 
both  —  see  difterences  as  well  as  similarities. 
Above  all,  Christ,  who  was  persecuted  and  .slain 
as  a  revolutionary,  can  hardly  serve  in  fairness  as 
a  pattern  of  blind  obedience  to  constituted  human 
authorities.  But,  to  St.  Francis,  the  requirements 
of  obedience — a  rule  for  his  '  Order,'  and  unhesitat- 
ing submission  to  the  Pope— were  established  con- 
ditions, which  he  never  thought  of  criticising. 
Much  the  same  may  be  said  in  regard  to  '  chastity.' 
The  really  important  features  of  St.  Francis'  char- 
acter, and  of  the  movement  it  gave  rise  to,  were  as 
follows.  ( 1 )  By  the  idea  of  imitating  the  behaviour 
of  Jesus  Christ,  St.  Francis  cut  liis  way  direct 
to  the  centre  of  things,  unhindered,  if  unhelped, 
by  the  overgrown  and  oftfln  corrupt  Cliurch  sys- 
tem of  his  time,  and  restored  new  life  to  personal 
religion  and  personal  Christianity.  (2)  His  en- 
thusiasm for  poverty  was  a  living  contribution  to 
religious  progress.  Poverty  to  him  was  no  in- 
herited conventional  %-irtue.  He  joyed  in  it. 
And,  in  this  J03',  he  penetrated  beyond  externals, 
and  showed  that  he  had  drunk  from  deep  and 
full  fountains.  Poverty  may  be  aciiuircd  liy  imi- 
tation ;   joy   cannot.     If  there   ".is    ^ tliiii.;    i.f 

extravagance  in  St.  Francis'  lovi  ol  ]...\ ,  1 1\ .  1  Int. 
was  also  a  permanent  moral  iil'a  tin  -nuiili- 
life.'  We  cannot  horp  disfu-^-  t);i-  ilaini,--  or  con- 
ditions  or  limitations  111  lint  \ 
it  with  reverence  in  so  iv:it  a 
Still  further,  Ave  must  1.  r,,-iiiz.-  in  St.  Francis'  joy 
the  influences  of  ruiiiajuc.  '  Fuverty  '  was  liis 
dear  'bride.'  It  was  not  for  nothing  that  he  lived 
in  the  days  of  chivalry .  We  recognize,  too,  the 
buoyancy  of  youth  ;  St.  Francis  '  entered  religion ' 


ut  we  greet 
s  our  Saint. 
Francis' 

erty  ' 


at  25,  and  died  at  44.  These  are  accessories— inno- 
cent and  touching  accessories — at  which  Chris- 
tianity may  smile,  but  certainly  Avill  not  frown. 
The  centre  lies  deeper.  Who  can  doubt  that 
Christ's  own  joy  dwelt  in  St.  Francis?  (3)  He 
was  a  servant  of  his  fellow-men.  Here  in  part  he 
inherited  from  the  Church.  Tlie  first  ascetics  were 
hermits,  living  in  solitude  ;  but  the  social  instinct, 
guided  by  the  sagacity  of  Church  rulers,  crept 
after  the  solitaries,  drew  theui  into  union,  placed 
them  under  rule,  and  in  many  cases  set  them  to 
useful  work.  The  two  great  orders  of  friars, 
Dominicans  as  well  as  Franciscans,  were  preachers. 
But,  besides  preaching,  St.  Francis  and  all  his 
followers  who  really  shared  his  spirit  were  helpers 
of  men  in  their  needs  and  miseries  ;  a  very  genuine 
part  of  the  pattern  set  by  Clirist.  (4)  The  order  of 
Tertiaries — semi-Frtnx  i,-(aii>,  im-n  or  women,  living 
in  the  world ;  not  <  '■■  /-  /-/  '/■/  -'  /"  vdibacy — was  a 
gallant  attempt  to  mill  ii  11 1/1-  tin-  .li^tinction  between 
the  two  moralities,  and  tn  make  personal  Chris- 
tianity, as  St.  Francis  had  discovered  it,  available 
for  non-ascetics.  Here  then  we  see  the  Cliristianity 
of  imitation  at  its  very  best  (but,  as  we  have  noted, 
it  is  more  than  imitation).  St.  Francis'  Chris- 
tianity is  an  all-round  thing — living,  attractive, 
strong,  serviceable,  joyous.  Why  could  he  not 
reform  the  Church  bj'  his  indirect  influence? 
Perhaps  he  was  too  sweet.  Perhaps  the  lingering 
taint  of  the  theory  of  two  ca.stes  and  two  moralities 
frustrated  him.  Again,  external  poverty  might 
not  be  in  others  what  it  was  in  St.  Francis,  the 
vehicle  of  simplicity  and  .spiritual  joy.  Most  obvi- 
ously, extemd  poverty  broke  down — even  Francis- 
cans evaded  the  full  sacrifice.  It  is  little  shame 
to  have  failed  in  a  region  where  no  one  wholly 
succeeds.  Yet  we  must  note  that  where  St.  Francis 
failed,  Luther  triumphed. 

3.  Monasticism  has  left  us  a  literary  monu- 
ment of  a  kindred  type  of  Christianity ;  one  of 
the  Church's  and  one  of  the  world's  classics ; 
k  Kempis'  work  known  by  the  [historically  doubt- 
ful] name,  TIi6  Imitation  of  Christ.  As  long  as 
human  sorrow  endures,  and  faith  is  not  dead 
among  men,  this  book  will  be  treasured  and  held 
in  reverence.  Clirist  died  on  the  cross ;  we  must 
accept  a  crucifying,  a  denying,  an  abnegation  of 
self  and  self-wiQ.  There  the  message  of  the  book 
stops.  Our  fellow-men,  even  our  Christian  breth- 
ren, are  only  thought  of  as  hindrances  to  Divine 
conimunioa,  tempters  who  threaten  to  impede  our 
sanctification.  AKempisfallsfarbclnwSt.  Fr.mds, 
who    served    men   for  Christ's    sake   «ith    tviLcer 

■     s.^l.Ti- 


loyalty.  The  dangerous  one-sidednis- 
ous  lii'iok  is  not  due  to  externalizinu 
amiilr.     l-xt.-iiiallv  .-veil,   the    C.m..- 


■hri>ts 


the    (;,.-|.el>   r.diuke    it 

nire.     And  tin'  1 k  i>  Hot  external. 

al  depth  and  inwaidne-s.      Mysticism 

the  ("hristiaii  sjnrit  i>  it^  strength. 
■ts  which  mar  it  lie  no  less  deep, 
■formation  abolished  the  '  higher ' 
iseeticism,  with  its  imitation  of  such 
uiiistames  in  tlie  life  of  our  Lord  as 
ir  Hi-  relil.aiy.  I  Inlinary  lay  Chris- 
s.eii  t.i  in\cil\e  a  'more  perfect' 
an  the  will  wui-hiji  of  the  monk. 
\  of  l.utliei  lia>  ealli'd  in  question  his 
rh  |ioiiiis  :  liut  tliere  can  be  no  doubt 
Mil  the  i)riiici)ile,  however  lus  remarks 

>liciw  tlie  ilistorting  influence  of  the 
Hlition\.      It    is  also  to  he  recognized 


the  I'.inllln.  (,o-,„d  o,  lie.  e,o-  r/,,,\7  ,/,Vrf/«,. 
lis  ha. I  h--  rerepiucn..--  loi  ih..  thought  of 
ChiisLs  e.xaiiiple,  ii.  seNeial  ot  Us  loriiis.  Kitschl 
anil  some  other  modern  Protestants  even  assert 
that  Christ's  example  amounts  to  no  more  than 
faultless  fulfilment  of  vocation — a  vocation  very 


IMMANENCE 


IMMANENCE 


781 


different  from  ours.  Tliis  paradox  belongs  to  the 
art.  'Example'  rather  than  to  tlie  present  artiele. 
What  we  have  to  insist  n|"in  is  this— Clirist  c.ni- 
not  be  truly  followed  by  imi/filnii/  Ilim  ui  ij/,-nii'/s. 
But  has  the  NT  erred'/  II. ■  who  wns  -reato^t 
humbled  Himself;  the  M^.m.t  ..t  nil  served;  the 
one  perfectly  innocentsnflciri  in  .ill  lii^-tory  forgave 
ungrudgingly;  He  laid  down  Mi-  I  i  1 1  >  for  us,  that 
we  might  lay  down  oui  [i\v>  loi  oiliers  (Ph  2'^"^ 
Jn  13",  Mt  20=«,  1  P  2-1,  Lk  2a-"',  1  Jn  3«).  Can 
this  wonderful  many-sided  example  be  exchanged 
for  a  dry  scholastic  formula  like  'fidelity  to  a 
vocation '  ?  We  have  to  be  on  our  guard  lest  Pro- 
testantism, with  its  rediscovery  of  the  gospel  of 
God's  love,  and  with  its  repudiation  of  false  (mon- 
a.stic)  coiui-ptioiis  ol  the  higher  life,  should  blur  at 
some  points  that  nicjral  claim  which  is,  in  truth, 
high  as  heaven — high  as  Christ  Himself. 

S.  Asceticism  is  an  obsolete  danger  in  modern 
Protestant  circles ;  yet  it  is  possible  that  the 
tendency  to  '  imitation '  may  take  other  forms. 
The  socialistic  reading  of  Christ's  woids — social- 
ism crossed  with  crazy  altruism  ;  anarchistic  social- 
ism or  socialistic  anarchism  ;  extremes  meet !— is 
primarily  a  wooden  way  of  conceiving  Christ's 
teaching,  just  as  imitation  is  a  wooden  way  of 
following  Christ's  example.  If  we  rise  into  the 
region  of  Christian  principle,  both  dangers  vanish. 
But  there  is  a  more  subtle  connexion  between 
ideas  of  imitation  and  a  false  programme  for  the 
Clrristian  life.  Many  schemes  of  the  Atonement 
{e.g.  the  late  Dr.  Moberly's)  tell  us  in  substance 
that  Christ  initiated  a  process — to  Dr.  Moberly,  a 
penitential  process  of  self-mortiflcation  ;  to  others, 
a  process  of  world-redeeming  love — which  Chris- 
tians must  prolong.  This  is  substantially  imita- 
tion over  again.  We  are  to  be  saved  by  'bein" 
such  men  as  He  was,  too.'  The  Pauline  and 
Protestant  gospel  tells  us  that  Christ  offered  and 
finished  the  great  sacrifice.  We  may  well  recoil 
from  the  old  vulgar  train  of  thought  described  by 
M'Leod  Campbell:  'He  suffered  —  I  shall  not 
suffer '  ;  but  God  forbid  we  should  dream  that  we 
share,  in  all  respects  and  for  every  purpose,  the 
lot  of  Christ.  We  fill  up  remaining  suffering — if  we 
are  found  worthy — but  we  do  not  fill  out  an  uncom- 
pleted Atonement;  that  was  'finished,'  once  and 
for  all,  in  mysterious  anguish,  in  agony  out  of 
which  springs  our  new  life.  We  have  not  fully  un- 
learned the  dreary  external  lirogramme  of  imita- 
tion till  we  confess  Christ  unambiguously  as  our 
life  and  our  only  hope.  We  are  to  resemble  Him, 
partly  as  the  younger  born  resemble  the  elder 
brother,  partly  as  the  saved  resemble  the  Saviour. 
Confessing  this,  we  are  prepared  to  learn  those 
further  things  He  has  to  teach  us  about  the  ways 
of  conformity  to  His  image.  Protestantism  is  to 
be  developed  or  supplemented,  but  must  not  be 
abolished.  Christian  ethics  presuppose  the  Chris- 
tian gospel.     They  can  never  take  its  place. 


Imitatio.    Early  Christian    literature 

Luthardt's  Hist,  of  Christian  Ethics  (Eng. 

see  P.  Sabatier's  Life  and  other  writings. 

see  Charles  Beard's  Martin  Lvlher,  also  his  Hibbert  Lecture. 

(Luther,  that  great  religious  genius,  is  the  Reformer  to  study). 

Robert  Mackintosh. 
IMMANENCE  (Lat.  in,  'in,'  and  manere,  'to 
remain ')  means  abiding  or  rlwelling  in.  In  general 
it  denotes  the  existence  and  operation  of  one  thing 
within  another.  In  Philosophy  it  expresses  the 
identity  of  the  originating  and  causal  principle,  in- 
volved in  the  genesis  of  the  universe,  with  the 
universe  itself  in  its  pogressive  history.  In  The- 
ology it  denotes  the  mdwelling  and  operation  of 
God  within  the  entire  universe,  of  which  He  is  tlie 
first  cause  and  the  abiding  ground.  It  stands  in 
contrast  with  '  transcendence,'  which  implies  that 


God  is  prior  to,  and  not  limited  by,  the  universe, 
■.vliicli  flepends  upon  Him  for  its  origin  and  con- 
liiiiird  existence.  But  immanence  and  transcend - 
rnr.'  .iiv  not.  exclusive  of  each  other.  A  correct 
tliiislir  pliilosophy  gives  a  place  to  each  of  these 
priurijilis  in  its  exposition  of  the  relations  of  God 
to  the  universe. 
The  historv  of  the  principle  of 


idc  ill  t  III  I  t     ti  the  ideas  that 

111      111         I  ectypal  in  the 

unu    I  ill   and  intelligi 

bilit\    II       I  I  II       the  same  sugges 

tioii  I-,  N  uii|  li  I  11  111  ,uin  I  I  / 1/1'.  "I  A iistotle,  according 
to  winch  tliL  ti  iiiiLi  ul  tliL  wuikl  iiiouldLd  it  into  a  harmonious 
whole  Tht  Au^ituteli  m  distmction  between  the  immanent 
acts  of  tht.  soul  in  fomiin,^^  a  pui-pose  and  its  tiansient  acts  in 
making  thL  puipose  cfftLtne,  illustrates  the  principle  of  imman 
entelnageneial  waj 

In  the  later  Platonic  philiisophj  of  the  School  of  Alexandria 
the  piinciple  of  the  ^oj-o,  especialh  in  the  hands  of  Philo  the 
Jew,  also  suggests  the  idea  of  immanence  Philo  perhaps 
borrowed  the  term  from  the  Wisdom  literature,  where  it  was 
used  in  the  sense  of  g-o^ix  or  latio.  and  applied  to  denote  what 
Plato  had  called  -Site...  This  usage  of  the  term  xdj.«  is  inter- 
esting in  itself  and  on  account  of  its  bearing  upon  the  usage  of 
the  same  term  in  the  Fourth  Gospel. 

In  modern  philosophy  the  dictum  of  Malebranche,  that  we 
know  things  truly  only  when  we  see  them  in  relation  to  Go<l, 
and  the  monadology  of  Leibnitz,  according  to  which  a  vital 
principle  is  supposed  to  lie  at  the  heart  of  all  things,  both 
involve  the  idea  of  immanence.  Spinoza's  pantheism,  as,  in- 
deed, all  pantheism,  so  emphasizes  immanence  that  transcend- 
ence has  no  place.  The  absolute  idealism  of  the  Hegelian 
type  of  philosophy  and  the  Hindu  theosophy  both  make  so 
much  of  the  immanence  of  the  Deity  that  His  transcendence 
is  quite  obscured.  In  the  philosophy  of  our  own  time  there  is 
a  tendency  towards  a  fuller  recognition  of  the  immanence  of 
God,  and  this  tendency  is  affecting  theology  in  a  wholesome 
way.  The  result  is  a  sound  theistic  philosophy,  as  the  basis  for 
a  more  vital  theology. 

This  article  has  to  do  mainly  xvith  the  idea  of 
immanence  as  it  appears  in  the  Gospel  narratives, 
and  specially  as  it  is  exhibited  in  the  teachings  of 
Jesus  Christ.  The  Synoptics  do  not  give  as  much 
prominence  to  the  Divine  immanence  as  does  the 
Fourth  Gospel.  It  might  be  too  much  to  say  that 
transcendence  prevails  in  the  former  and  imman- 
ence in  the  latter ;  yet  it  is  true  that  one  of  the 
points  of  difterence  between  the  Synoptics  and  the 
Fourth  Gospel  is  the  way  in  which  the  relations 
between  God  and  the  universe  are  construed. 

1.  In  the  Synoptii:s  there  are  hints  of  the  Divine 
immanence  in  nature  which  resemble  the  OT 
utterances  upon  this  point,  e.g.  Mt  5*^  6^,  Mk  6*^ 
Lk  2129.  Transcendence  is  not  excluded  in  these 
passages.  God's  immanence  in  man  is  also  sug- 
gested by  Mt  68  10-^,  Mk  13",  Lk  1"  22«  11".  The 
fact  of  the  immanence  of  God  in  Christ  is  alluded 
to  in  Mt  3"*  41  12i«  27«,  Mk  l'-  9^,  Lk  4'.  That 
God  is  immanent  in  some  sense  in  the  subjects 
of  His  Kingdom  is  implied  in  Mt  10«  13^3  18=  28=", 
Mk  1>5,  Lk  IS'^i.  It  may  be  added  that  demon- 
iacal immanence  in  men  is  often  expressed  in  the 
Synoptics,  e.g.  Mt  8=»  12«,  Mk  3==  917^  Lk  8». 

We  can  scarcely  conclude  from  these  and  similar 
passages  that  special  stress  is  laid  upon  the  idea  of 
immanence  in  the  Synoptics.  The  fact  that  God 
is  constantly  in  vital  and  operative  contact  with 
the  entire  universe  of  being  is  very  evident ;  but 
God's  being  and  activity  are  not  necessarily  limited 
by  the  universe.  He  is  the  First  Cause  of  all 
things,  yet  second  causes  have  their  place  and 
dependent  efficiency  in  the  universe.  Hence  it 
is  that  God's  transcendence  is  clearly  recognized. 

2.  In  the  Fourth  Go.spel  immanence  has  a  larger 
place.  Some  interpreters  suppose  that  St.  John 
borroxved  many  of  his  ideas,  especially  that  of  the 
\(57os,  from  the  Platonic  philosophy,  as  represented 
by  Philo  of  Alexandria,  xvho  combined  some  OT 
ideas  with  the  philosophy  of  Plato.  But  there 
are  differences  between  the  \6yo^  doctrine  of  St. 
John  and  that  of  Philo  xvhich  entirely  exclude  the 
supposition  that  St.  Jolrn  xvas  a  mere  borrower. 


782 


IMMAXUEL 


IMMAXUEL 


The  fact  that  he  makes  no  allusion  to  Philo  or  to 
Alexandiia,  but  rather  assumes  that  he  gathered 
his  ideas  from  the  teaching  of  Jesus,  fully  justifies 
this  view. 

The  immanence  of  God  in  nature  is  implied  in 
Jn  3*  4=^  11^.  His  immanence  in  man  is  suggested 
in  l^"'''  8'-  14".  Here  God,  in  some  active  way,  is 
operative  in  nature  and  in  the  soul  of  man  as  its 
Divine  light. 

But  it  is  in  Jesus  Christ  that  the  Fourth  Gospel 
finds  the  immanence  of  God  in  a  special  manner. 
For  this  see  l'""  S^  7^  8^«  1(P  12'^  «•  =o  1332  1411. 
18. 26 1523  1627. 28  yji.  21. 23.  In  several  of  these  passages 
the  term  \byos  is  used  concerning  Jesus  Christ.  In 
this  term  the  idea  of  immanence  is  involved  ;  but 
as  this  topic  is  fully  treated  in  art.  Logos  it  need 
not  be  discussed  at  length  here.  Suffice  it  to  say 
that  Jesus  Christ,  as  the  eternal  Logos,  is  re- 
garded by  many  as  the  Divine  principle  by  whose 
agency  the  operative  intelligence  of  God  is  mani- 
fested and  made  effective  in  the  entire  universe. 
Care  is  needed  here  not  to  give  too  much  of  the 
colour  of  the  Alexandrian  philosophy  to  the  teach- 
ing of  the  Fourth  Gospel  upon  this  point. 

This  Gospel  also  lays  stress  upon  the  fact  that 
God  is  immanent  in  believers,  as  the  subjects  of 
HU  spiritual  Kmgdom.  See  Z^  4»  6=^  7"-^  11-^ 
lo'-^"  178. 23. 21  Jn  passages  like  these  the  fact  is 
presented  that  there  is  such  a  union  with,  and 
participation  in,  Christ  on  the  part  of  believers, 
that  He  is  said  to  be  the  source  of  a  spiritual 
life  which  is  Divine.  In  a  deep  mystical  sense 
God  may  be  regarded  as  immanent  in  believers  by 
virtue  of  this  union,  and  their  partaking  of  the 
Divine  natm-e  thereby. 

As  against  Deism,  tlie  Gospels  very  plainly  teach 
that  God  is  in  constant  and  vital  contact  with  the 
universe.  As  against  Pantheism,  they  also  teach 
that  God   is  vaster  than  the   universe,  and  is  in 

i  way  conditioned  by  it.     Hence  they  present  a 


the  immanence  and  transcendence  of  God  in  the 
relations  which  He  sustains  to  the  universe.  It 
may  be  added  that  the  fact  of  this  immanent  and 
transcendent  relation,  rather  than  the  mode  of  it, 
is  set  forth  in  the  Gospels.  The  Epistles  expand 
some  of  these  things  (cf.  Ro  1™  5=  8",  1  Co  P"  2'" 
6'"  8«,  Gal  I's  4",  Eph  &",  Ph.  2'=,  Col  1",  He  P  2>\ 
1  Jn  3r*  4I'  ;  see  also  St.  Paul  in  Ac  17"-  =*). 


IMMANUEL  ('EiiixavomiK)  occurs  once  only  in  the 
NT  (Mt  I'-",  in  the  quotation  from  Is  7"  where  the 
name  is  ^iven  in  the  form  Vxii^y).  It  is  necessary, 
first  of  all,  to  examine  the  oririnal  prophecy  before 
discussing  the  Evangelist's  application  of  it  to  Jesus. 

1.  The  circumstances  which  led  to  the  prediction 
were  as  follows.  Probably  under  the  influence  of 
a  wish  to  force  Judah  into  a  coalition  against 
Assyria,  an  attack  was  made  on  the  southern  king- 
dom by  Syria  and  Ephraim  about  735-734  (Is  7'"-)- 
The  attack  was  specially  directed  against  the 
Davidic  dynasty,  and  it  was  the  object  of  the  allies 
to  dethrone  Ahaz  and  set  the  son  of  Tabeel  in  his 
place  (v.").  The  invasion  filled  Aliaz  with  panic, 
and  he  resolved  to  call  in  the  aid  of  Tiglath-pUeser, 
the  king  of  Assyria  (2  K  16""- )•  Between  the  gieat 
Empire  of  Assyria  and  the  petty  State  of  Judah 
there  could  be  no  talk  of  equal  alliance,  Judah  ' 
must  forfeit  its  independence  and  become  a  vassal 
of  As.syria.  This  involved  hea^'y  taxation  and  the 
loss  of  all  power  of  independent  action.      Taxation  ] 


would  only  aggravate  the  social  misery  and  ruth- 
less oppression  from  which  the  poor  were  suttering, 
and  make  it  more  difficult  than  ever  to  carry 
through  those  social  reforms  which  the  prophets 
regarded  as  most  necessary.  Accordingly,  Isaiah 
vehemently  opposed  the  king's  project.  He  made 
light  of  the  danger  from  Syria  and  Ephraim,  and 
stigmatized  the  allies  as  fag-ends  of  smoking  tire- 
brands,  which  might  cause  considerable  annoyance, 
but  had  lost  all  power  for  serious  mischief.  He 
bade  Ahaz  be  quiet  and  fearless,  assuring  liim  that 
God  would  frustrate  the  designs  of  his  foes  (Is 
7''*),  but  warning  him  that  his  stability  depended 
on  his  faith  (v.").  Possibly  our  present  text  is 
somewhat  abbreviated,  but  at  any  rate  Isaiah, 
either  on  that  or  possibly  another  occasion,  otlered 
him  a  sign  in  confirmation  of  his  assurance,  placing 
the  universe  from  Shuol  tu  Hf,i\en  at  Iiis  disposal. 
Ahaz  refused,  since  li.'  h.i.l  .ili.ady  made  up  his 
mind,  but  pretendt-il  iliat  lii~  unwillingness  was 
prompted  by  rehictame  tu  tiinpt  God.  The  pro- 
phet passionately  cries  out  against  the  conduct 
which,  not  content  with  wearjing  men,  goes  on  to 
weary  God.  Then  he  proceeds  to  give  the  king  a 
sign  from  God  Himself,  namelj',  the  sign  of  Im- 
nianuel  (v. ""■•). 

The  translation  of  the  Hebrew  is  itself  somewhat 
uncertain.  It  may  now  be  taken  for  granted  that 
the  word  nc^a  translated  '  virgin '  in  the  EV  should 
be  more  correctly  rendered  'young  woman.'  The 
proper  Heb.  term  for  '  virgin '  is  n^ina,  though  even 
this  is  used  in  Jl  1*  for  'young  widow.'  All  that 
can  with  certamty  be  said  of  the  word  used  by 
Isaiah  is  that  it  indicates  a  young  woman  of  marria- 
geable age,  but  says  nothing  as  to  whether  she  is 
married  or  not.  Accordingly  the  terms  of  the  pro- 
phecy do  not  warrant  us  in  interpreting  the  sign  as 
the  prodigy  of  a  virgin  conception.  The  natural 
interpretation  to  put  on  the  prophecy  is  that  a 
young  woman,  either  married  at  the  time  or  soon 
to  be  married,  would  give  birth  to  a  son  and  call 
liini  by  this  name.  It  is  also  uncertain  whether  we 
should  translate  with  RV  '  shall  conceive '  or  with 
RVm  '  is  with  child.'  The  former  is,  however,  per- 
haps the  more  probable.  The  third  question  is 
whether  we  should  translate  '  a  virgin '  or  '  the 
virgin.'  The  Hebrew  has  the  artic-le,  which  is 
correctly  rendered  '  the  xdrgin,'  in  which  case  some 
definite  person  is  in  the  prophet's  mind.  But 
Hebrew  idiom  often  uses  the  definite  article  where 
in  English  we  should  translate  indefinitely,  so  that 
'  a  virgin  '  is  equally  correct  as  a  rendering  of  the 

T1h~i  uncertainties  as  to  the  precise  meaning  of  the  words 
I  h'  iii-i  I',  rs  naturally  leave  much  room  tor  difference  of  opinion, 
aiiii  tlii^  is  largely  increased  by  other  uncertainties.  It  is  there- 
fore desirable  to  narrow  the  range  of  possible  interpretation  as 
much  as  possible.  It  is  dear,  in  the  first  place,  that  the  prophet 
is  referring  to  something  in  the  near  future,  otherwise  the  sign 
could  have  conveved  no  message  to  the  king,  all  the  more  that 
his  difBculty  was  iii-,'._nt.  In  the  i]t\t  place,  we  nmst  beware  of 
I'l   i:i!:j   iti-L   i^;i  Li     i-  necessarily  intended 


for  1 


crtainly  not  because 
his  conduct  (cf.  also 
r-  approach  the 


wonder  ujioii  I  _  i 

818).   ■with''tli.-.    ..-.^i  I  i  ."    '.- 

question.  What  Tmssa-e  was  l\v:  sign  intended  to  convey t 
When  Ahaz  had  been  bidden  asls  a  sign,  the  object  was  to  con- 
vince him  that  his  enemies  would  be  overthrown  and  their 
alliance  against  him  come  to  nought.  We  naturally  e.xpect  that 
the  sign  volunl.-ir-i]  Ii\  tljc  prCii>htt  \\\\\  lia\c  ttic  same  signitl- 

that  Aha:-;  i  '     i,.-. it   int.. 

the  situati'  ■  in'i  'i  lie 

rejected  :.    -  '''i  n"t  be 


■  unprecedented  smce  the  days  of  Rehoboam  is  predicted. 
ie  other  hand,  this  is  difficult  to  harmonize  with  v. 16,  at  any 
in  its  present  form,  for  that  gives  as  the  meaning  of  the 


IMMANUEL 


IMMANUEL 


eign  that  before  the  child  kiiu\\--f  >  i.  fu-.-  Mir  <  \  H  and  choose  the 
good,  the  land  whose  two  kin-  \  ^  , '  '  r  ■  lil  be  forsakun. 
In  other  words,  v.i'iinterpivi'- 1  ii  i   .    i        i     elation  of  Syriu 

and  Ephraim.     It  is  tlicTLtix-  ■  .-li-r  to  Jvidah, 

but  of  deliverance.  We  nw  ;m  -t.  h^J-  r,,i;hnnied  with  Iht- 
problem  wliether  tlie  ori-iiial  U-\l  is  hiru  l.l■escl■^■cd.  It  would 
suffice  to  brinjr  v.itj  into  haiiuuiiv  with  vv.i"'i'  if  the  former 
were  to  read  simply  '  for  before  the  cliild  shall  know  to  refuse 
the  evil  and  choose  the  yood,  thy  land  shall  be  forsaken';  and 
several  scholars  ha\e  adopted  this  expedient.  In  that  case  the 
sign  is  simply  one  of  disaster  for  Judah.  Nevertheless  there  are 
serious  difhculties  in  the  way  of  accepting  this  solution,  and  tlie 
question  is  forced  upon  us  wliether  more  radical  measures  an.- 
not  necessary.  Even  with  the  suggested  ablireviation  of  v."'  it 
does  not  connect  so  well  with  v.i'^  as  with  vM.  But  apart  from 
that,  there  are  other  arguments  for  treating  the  sign  as  favour- 
able. The  name  Immanxiel  itself,  expressing  the  conviction 
that  God  was  with  His  people,  might,  of  course,  be  harmonized 
with  either  verse.  It  gains  significance  only  on  account  of  the 
distress  in  which  the  name  was  given,  the  mother's  faith  is  a 
si^n  only  when  experience  seems  to  contradict  it.  The  name 
might  therefore  be  given  in  the  midst  of  the  trouble  caused  by 
the  Syrian  invasion  or  in  the  greater  distress  that  was  to  follow 
from  Assyria.  But  Isaiah  certainly  anticipated  the  overthrow 
of  Syria  and  Ephraim.  Not  only  so,  but  a  little  later,  in  the 
public  exhibition  on  a  tablet  of  the  word  Maker •shalal-hash-baz, 
and  nearly  a  year  later  in  the  giving  of  this  name  to  his  new- 
born son,  he  expressed  his  faith  in  the  overthrow  of  the  coaHtion. 
It  is  indeed  urged  that  the  sign  of  Immanuel  would  thus  be 
only  a  duplication  of  the  sign  of  Maher-shalal-hash-baz,  but 
there  seems  to  be  no  reason  why  such  a  duplication  should  be 
objectionable.  Moreover,  there  is  a  significa,nt  parallelism  be- 
tween the  two  which  points  to  such  an  identification  of  meaning. 
The  time  limit  in  both  cases  is  very  similar.  In  the  one  case  it 
is  before  the  child  shall  know  to  say  '  my  father  and  my  mother ' ; 
in  other  words,  the  events  described  are  to  happen  before  the 
infant  who  has  just  been  born  has  learnt  to  utter  the  first  things 
that  a  child  says.  The  other  time  limit  is  precisely  similar, 
'before  the  child  knows  to  refuse  the  evil  and  choose  the  good.' 
By  this  the  prophet  need  not  mean  before  he  comes  to  years  of 
moral  discretion,  but  before  he  learns  to  distinguish  between 
good  and  harmful  food.  And  the  very  fact  that  a  year  later 
Isaiah  was  still  concerned  mainly  with  the  invasion  of  the  aUies 
and  in  asserting  his  conviction  of  their  overthrow,  surely  makes 
it  probable  that  the  same  question  preoccupies  his  attention 
here.  Nor  is  there  any  reason  to  suppose  that  the  obstinacy  of 
Ahaz  would  make  anv  difference  to  the  character  of  the 
Unless  we  are  explicitly  warned  to  the  contrary 
assume  that  the  sign  given  possessed  the  same  significance  as 
the  sign  offered.  The  present  writer  accordingly  takes  the  view 
that  the  sign  is  of  a  favourable  character.  This  involves,  it  is 
true,  the  elimination  of  v.is  (and  perhaps  of  v.i?,  though  this 
may  belong  to  another  prophecy),  but  in  any  case  somethmg  has 
to  be  struck  out  of  the  passage  to  secure  consistency.  It  might, 
of  course,  seem  easier  to  eliminate  a  few  words  in  v.itj  than  to 
strike  out  a  whole  verse.  Nevertheless,  when  we  look  at  v.is  we 
see  that  it  is  practically  compounded  of  part  of  v.2"^  and  part  of 
V.16,  whereas  the  words  '  whose  two  kings  thou  abhorrest '  make 
a  much  greater  impression  of  originality. 

The  question  accordingly  arises,  In  what  precisely  did  the 
sign  consist?    The  stress  may  lie  either  on  the  Txr^'^V.y  or  the  son, 
or  the  name  given  to  him,  or  a  combination  of  thesi 
ditional  interpretation  has,  of  course,  thrown  the  st 


\^ 


The  tra- 


t  of  these  ;  : 


But 


the  sign  lay  m  the  virgin-conception, 
:  of  naSy  is  understood,  this  interpretation 
If  she  were  one  of  the  king's  wives,  then 
child  w'ould  be  the  king's  son,  and  the  possibility  of  an 
identification  with  the  Messiah  would  have  to  be  considered. 
It  would  be  possible  to  accept,  with  McCurdy,  the  identification 
of  Immanuel  wth  Hezekiah,  the  chronological  difficulties  not 
being  altogether  insuperable.  A  third  possiltle  alternative 
would  be  to  accept  the  view  taken  by  several  scholars,  most 
recently  by  Whitehouse  in  the  Cvntury  Bible,  and  identify  the 
ns^y  with  the  community  in  Zion.  We  have  no  evidence,  how- 
ever, that  this  term  was  used  at  that  time  for  the  Jewish  com- 
nmnity,  and  the  identification  with  one  of  the  king's  wives  must 
also  be  pronounced  improbable,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  the 
trouble  was  dynastic  even  more  than  national,  directed  against 
the  Davidic  house  rather  than  against  Judah  as  a  whole.  Nor 
is  there  any  reason  for  identifying  Immanuel  with  the  Messianic 
king  mentioned  in  9i-7  and  lli-».  It  is  true  that,  according  to 
the  present  text  of  8^,  the  land  of  Judah  is  represented  as 
Immanuel's  land,  but  it  is  probable  that  the  text  should  be 
,  harmony  with  Si^,*    We  may  then  set  aside  the 


corrected 


*  Probably  instead  of  'thy  land,  O  Immanuel,'  we  should 
read  'the  land,  for  God  is  with  us  '  thus  getting i  refrain  at  the 
end  of  v. 8  to  match  that  at  the  end  of  \  lO  In  that  case  the 
figure  of  the  bird  with  wings  spi  ead  o\  er  the  land  i-*  a  s\  mbol  of 
God's  protecting  care  of  Juilih  shielding  her  from  the  t  om- 
bination  of  all  earthh  foes  Tlie  fxtreme  abruptness  of  the 
transition  from  threat  to  iiromi^r  makes  it  highh  probable  that 
88b-io  18  a  fragment  it  it  it  I  with  the  preceding  verses. 
It  must  even  be  „r         I  l  1  e  ruht  m  regarding  it 


adfi 


be 


forces  of  Assj  r 
by  itself  the  re 


t^\. 


God 


harmony  with  similar 
id  not  the  person  who  bears  it  that  is 
ar  example,  of  Hosea's  children,  and, 
loint,  of  Isaiah's  children.  The  pro- 
Shear-jasltub  and  Maher-skalal-hash- 
I  themselves,  but  exclusively  in  their 
me  to  be  true  in  this  case.  Just  as 
hildren  express,  the  one  his  doctrine 
tiis  certainty  that  Syria  and  Ephraim 

th  His  people.  The  sign  is 
For  against  the  king's  unbelief  and 
Ins  l>ll^lnlate  remsal  to  accept  a  sign  there  arises  the  mother's 
impressive  faith,  which  confronted  danger  without  dismay,  and 
uttered  her  conviction  of  God's  presence  with  His  people  in  the 
name  she  gave  her  son.  The  personahty  of  the  mother  is 
equally  with  that  of  the  son  of  no  importance  for  the  sign  ;  that 


young  \v'iiii:tji,  wImi  is  shorily  ;il \  In  <<>T]i-ei\'e  and  give  birth 

to  a  son,  uia>  ,a!l  lii-.  naiii,'  iiiiiiiariii,  1-  \\\\\V-  he  has  no  definite 
young  woman  in  liis  mind,  ln'  i-rcdi'ts  lliat,  some  young  woman 
will,  in  the  future,  conceive  and  bear  a  son,  to  whom  she  will 
give  the  name  Immanuel.  His  language  is  not  that  of  hypo- 
thesis but  of  prediction.* 

2.  The  way  is  now  clear  to  discuss  St.  Matthew's 
use  of  the  passaj^e.  This  is  not  the  place  to 
examine  tlie  subject  either  of  tlie  Virgin-concep- 
tion of  Christ  or  of  the  early  Christian  interpreta- 
tion of  prophecy.  It  is  quite  plain  that  this  inter- 
pretation was  in  general  very  little  controlled  hj 
the  original  sense  of  the  OT  passage  quoted.  It 
was  of  a  largely  polemical  character,  since  it  was 
necessary,  a,i;aiiist  tlie  cavilling  of  the  Jews,  to 
prove  tl'ic  M(--i:iliship  of  Jesus  from  the  OT. 
Acc-oi  1 1  i  1 1  - 1  \  till-  II I  'brew  Scriptures  were  ransacked 
to  linil  |i.ii':ill..N  \\'\t\\  the  life  of  Christ;  and  it  is 
not  unlikely  tliat,  at  a  quite  early  period,  collec- 
tions of  these  passages  were  drawn  ud  for  contro- 
versial use.  The  First  Gospel  is  peculiarly  rich  in 
Messianic  proof-te.xts,  and  it  is  therefore  not  sur- 
prising that  for  two  facts  so  important  to  the 
author  as  the  Virgin-conception  and  the  Incarna- 
tion tlie  writer  should  allege  an  OT  prophecy. 
But  the  fact  that  he  lias  done  so  creates  a  very 
interesting  problem,  which,  however,  will  be  ap- 
proached difierently  by  those  who  accept  the 
Virgin-conception  as  a  fact  and  by  those  who  dis- 
pute it.  For  the  former,  the  fact  itself  is  the 
starting-point,  and  the  author  had  to  find  in  the 
OT  a  text  appropriate  to  it.  The  only  question 
that  would  really  arise  would  be  as  to  the  part 
played  by  the  L!JtX  in  suggesting  Is  7".  In  this 
passage  the  LXX  renders  na)^  by  Trap6hos,  which 
suggests  virmnity  much  more  strongly  than  the 
Hebrew  word.  At  the  same  time,  the  fact  that 
the  LXX  so  translated  shows  that  the  author  of 
the  First  Gospel  may  independently  have  taken 
the  word  in  tlie  same  sense.  That  he  did  so  is 
rendered  not  improbable  by  the  fact  that  his  trans- 
lation ditiers  in  some  points  from  that  of  the  LXX.f 
The  significance  for  the  doctrine  of  the  Incarna- 
tion of  the  name  Immanuel,  which  might  be  trans- 
lated '  God  Avith  us '  as  well  as  '  God  is  with  us,' 
probably  first  drew  his  attention  to  the  passage, 
and  then  the  translation  of  no^lt  by  TrapBivoi  would 

*  The  connexion  of  v.l6  with  v."  is  as  follows.  A  young 
woman  ^vill  bear  n  ^nn  nnd  -vdl  his  name  Immanuel.  This 
will  be  a  sign.  f<,i-  i'  will  <  -t'l'  --  a  faith  which  triumphs  over 
the  appearan,-,    ,,■   m    :  i-lir.      And  it  is  truly  God- 

inspired  faith,   t  ,i  '  iididly  vindicated.     Ere  the 

child  thus  born  in  d,i,~  ,,,  ,1  ii,,ii,ss  knows  how  to  distinguish 
between  hurtful  and  i,i,:|,ci  ujJ,  the  hostile  power  mil  be 
crushed,  and  thus  God's  presence  with  His  people  will  be 
clearly  manifested.  Immanuel  will  be  a  standing  rebuke  to  the 
king's  scepticism. 

t  The  LXX  of  Is  T"  reads  in  B :  Sii  t»Dt»  8i«i  Kipiu  ttiris 
tt,uiv  mfjiucv  lioij  V)  rxpSifO?  iy  yxrrpt  XrsfA^trtct  skk/  ri^trxt  miv, 
xxi  aatXtVfi?  TO  oVotta  x-jreZ  '¥,pLfjLxvouitX.     For  h^.^'^t-rxt,  howevef, 

NAQ  read  V|i;,  which  is  the  same  rendering  as  that  in  Matthew. 
For  xoLKiirui  we  have  in  H  xtti^iau  ;  neither  B  nor  N  here  coincide 
with  Matthew.    The  text  in  Mt  123  reads  lUv  y,  -rapdiyei  iv  yxinpi 


JSi 


IMMANUEL 


IMMOETALITV 


readily  be  suggested  by  his  belief  in  the  Virgin- 
conception. 

Among  tliose,  however,  who  regard  the  belief  in 
the  Virgin-birth  as  a  piece  of  primitive  Christian 
mythology,  there  has  been  a  controversy  as  to  what 
led  tlie  author  to  quote  tliis  passage,  and  the  re- 
lation between  that  belief  and  the  passage  in 
Isaiah.  Many  think  that  the  former  was  created 
by  the  latter,*  and  probably  in  the  form  given  to 
it  by  the  LXX  translation.  The  Hebrew,  it  is 
thought,  would  not  naturally  have  lent  itsi-ir  (.. 
this  purpose  apart  from  the  tletinite  use  uf  Tra^Curis 
in  the  LXX.  Several  recent  scholars,  on  the  other 
hand,  consider  that  the  use  of  wapeifos  is  quite 
insufficient  to  account  for  St.  Mattliew's  quota- 
tion. They  consider  that  even,  before  the  birth  of 
Jesus  there  had  been  formed  a  doctrine  of  the 
Messiah,  which  included  among  other  tilings  His 
supernatural  birth.  This  was  ultimately  ilerived 
from  the  pagan  stories  of  children  of  the  gods,  but 
was  not  taken  over  directly  from  p.aganisni  by 
Jewish  ('Inisti.iiiity.  It  had  arisen  on  the  soil  of 
JiKlai^iii  it~eli,  aiiil  it  is  in  the  JudiEo-pagan 
syiu  retisin,  with  its  iluet vine  that  the  Messiah  must 
be  burn  of  a  virgin,  that  the  origin  of  the  belief  is 
to  be  sought.  What  was  said  of  Christ  was  sub- 
sequently transferred  to  Jesus,  when  Jesus  and 
the  Christ  were  identified.  A  quotation  from 
Gunkel  will  make  this  position  clear.  After  say- 
ing that  the  mythological  representations  did  not 
make  their  first  appearance  in  the  later  Gentile 
Cliristianity,  he  proceeds :  '  But  this  would  have 
been  inqmssible  if  Juilaisiu  itself  had  not  previ- 
ously ]ii)ssesseil  lliis  or  siniilar  representations. 
The' birth  of  Christ  from  tin'  \'ir,t;in  through  the 
Divine  Spirit  IkuI,  wi'  iii.iy  ;i"Uiiie,  already  be- 
longed to  the  Christi>lo'-:ii:il  .L.ljiiki  before  Jesus, 
just  as  His  birth  in  ll.'tlil.l,,,,,  ,,ii,l  from  David's 
race,  and  has  been  tr.iii-fernil  lo  .lesus  only  at  a 
later  time.  What  we  li;i\e  t..  learn  then,  and 
what  will  siibseiiuently  be  shown  again,  is  that 
this  .Tud.iisiLi  which  found  its  way  into  primitive 
Christianity  must  have  been  strongly  inclined  to 
syiuretisni'  (Ziiiii  religionsgeschichtlichen  Ver- 
stand  Ills  dci  NT,  p.  69).  Similarly,  Cheyne,  in  his 
BiMe  Problems,  considers  that  the  historical  ex- 
planation of  the  statement  of  the  Virgin-birth  is 
that  it  arose  'in  the  story  of  non- Jewish  origin 
current  in  Jewish  circles  and  borrowed  from  them 
by  certain  Jewish  Christians.'  He  interprets 
'  virgin '  in  a  peculiar  sense.  In  its  original  mean- 
ing '  it  expresses  the  fact  that  the  great  mythic 
mother-goddess  was  independent  of  the  marriage 
tie'  (p.  75).  For  him  the  passage  in  Mt.  'is  a 
Jewish  -  Christian  transformation  of  a  primitive 
story,  derived  ultimately,  in  all  probability,  from 
Babylonia,  and  analogous   to   the  Jewish   trans- 

•  Ct.  Hamack :  '  Even  the  belief  that  Jesus  was  born  of  a 
virgin  sprang  from  Is  T".  .  .  The  conjecture  of  fst-ner,  that 
the  idea  of  the  birth  from  a  virgin  is  a  heath-n  iii'/th  whir}) 
was  received  by  the  Christians,  contradicts  ih.  .  ntn,  .iih.  i 
development  of" Christian  tradition,  which  is  I!  .1  ,:  ,i 
myths,  so  far  as  these  had  not  already  lieeri    ,             I  .1. 

circle80fJews(aliovc  all, certain  Bal.yleni.-iii.iii  I  i     i  '     i, 

Whichin  the  ca':r-  "f  flrit  kIt-TI  1-^  Tint   'IfiiP'tfM-    ''  I.      hi.  I    I. 

in  point  of  nirili...  I  i,.,t  ),,  riiM--il,lr  r.  ^' I  , . 


belon-lotiM 

the  method  ii 
'supremely  < 


formation  of  the  Babylonian  cosmogony  in  the 
opening  section  of  Genesis '  *  (p.  93).  On  the  other 
hand,  a  good  many  scholars  take  the  view  that 
the  story  was  created,  not  simply  out  of  pagan 
materials,  but  on  pagan  soil  and  among  Gentile 
Christians.  This  is  the  view  of  Usener,  Schmiedel, 
Soltau,  Prieiderer,  and  others  (see  references  below). 
It  does  not  fall  within  the  scope  of  this  article  to 
discuss  this  question  further,  since  it  is  concerned 
sini]ily  with  tlio  bearing  of  the  LXX  translation  of 
rr:^-;  iy  ^•n^n.'rui  on  the  development  of  the  belief 
ill  the  XiiLiii  c. inception  of  Christ.  To  rebut  the 
t'lirisiitiii  Use  (it  Is  7"  as  a  prediction  of  the  super- 
natural birth  of  Christ,  later  Jewish  translators 
substituted  veavis  for  vapeivoi.     See  VIRGIN  BiRTH. 


6a4 ;  Harnack,  History  oj  Dogma,  i.  p.  100,  n.  1 ;  Box,  '  The 
Gospel  Narratives  of  the  Nativity  and  the  alleged  Influence  of 
Heathen  Ideas '  in  ^ZATIF,  1905,  p.  80  ff. 

A.  S.  Peake. 

IMMORTALITY In  the  ordinary  acceptation  of 

tlie  term  '  immortality'  connotes  'endlessness.'  It 
has  (etised  to  express  merely  or  solely  a  denial 
of  jihysieal  death,  in  its  incidence  or  its  conse- 
quences, and  has  been  extended  to  include  the 
possibility  or  actuality  of  death,  considered  as 
putting  an  end  to  conscious  existence  either  now 
or  in  "the  limitless  future.  Whether  these  two 
alternatiNes  letilly  mciii  tlie  same  thinj;,  whether 
to  be  caii.iMc  of  .lyiiit;  is  tilwtiys  iiiul  ultimately  to 
die,  and  so  thtit  only  is  immortal  whieli  by  its  very 
nature  ami  constitution  is  not  liable  to  death, 
while  all  else  perishes, — as  is  probably  the  case, — is 
a  question  that  hardly  comes  within  the  scope  of 
the  present  article.  It  will,  however,  be  just,  and 
will  conduce  to  clearness,  to  separate  these  two 
considerations;  to  seek  to  determine,  in  the  first 
instance,  the  teaching  of  Christ  with  regard  to 
immortality  in  the  limited  sense  of  a  denial  of 
cessation  of  existence  at  death  ;  and,  secondly, 
to  review  the  much  wider  and  more  perplexed 
question  of  the  permanence  of  this  '  immortal ' 
state.  'Does  death  end  all?',  according  to  the 
mind  and  teaching  of  the  Founder  of  Christianity, 
is  an  inquiry  that  needs  to  be  twice  raised, — once 
as  it  concerns  the  terminus  of  the  present  life  upon 
earth,  and  again  as  it  refers  or  may  refer  to  a 
future  to  which  human  thought  can  set  no  limit. 
It  is  obvious  that  the  first  question  is  comparatively 
simple  and  uninvolved  ;  and  that  upon  its  answer 
in  the  affirmative  depends  the  possibility  of  open- 
ing the  second,  which  is  highly  complicated,  and 
involves  the  mo.st  far-reaching  and  important 
problems  that  can  present  themselves  for  human 
consideration. 

By  some  writers  the  terms  used  in  the  NT,  and 
especially  by  Christ  Himself,  with  reference  to  a  life 
after  death  have  been  further  understood  to  imply 

*  Cf.  also  the  important  remarks  on  pp.  ISS-IM.    He  thinks 
(he  translation  T«/i9iKi,- is  so  far  from  accounting  for  the  belief 
the  Virgin-birth  that  it  needs  to  be  e.'iplained  itself.    '  In  la  T''' 
'   have  had  some  special  motive,  and  that 
jeen  not  philological,  but,  if  I  may  say  so, 
•  the  quotation  in  Mt  l^^f-  it  is  perfectly  well 
le  of  the  subsidiary  Biblical  proofs  which 
.Oit  for  by  tho  evangelists.     The  real  sup- 
,.,,t^^v<M-f.'trH)it!AT,^<if  one  kind  or  another, 
I,.    Mil!.  II    ...1  i  ..I  prophecy  led  them  to 
I  ill  the  prophetic  scrip- 


III  llic  Mrgin- 


)  had  already  qui 


u.inl  I  lie  doctrine  as  purely 
iTer,  Vas  UrchristenUan^,  i. 
m.'suse  of  Is  7'<  was  possible 
i  other  grounds  for  ascribing 


IMMORTALITY 


IMMORTALITY 


?85 


blessedness.  Life  immortal  would  thus  be  not 
only  life  in  the  ordinary  acceptation  of  conscious 
existence,  but  it  would  be  life  plus  felicity.  It  is 
perhaps  hardly  right  or  wise  to  saddle  the  doctrine 
Avith  this  additional  connotation.  It  will,  however, 
be  necessary  to  examine  how  far  the  words  of 
Christ  suggest  or  imply  tliat  He  ifgarded  happi- 
ness as  an  essential  and  insi-paralilc  part  of  the 
life  to  come,  or  a  future  existence  of  misery  more 
or  less  prolonged  as  inconceivable  unless  it  were 
terminated  by  restoration  to  bliss  or  annihilation 
of  consciousness. 

There  is,  however,  a  further  preliminary  con- 
sideration which  must  be  taken  into  account.  An 
examination  of  the  whole  teaching  of  Christ  upon 
so  momentous  a  theme,  as  it  is  transmitted  by  the 
Evangelists,  may  be  expected  to  yield  results  not 
only  positive  but  negative.  Positive,  inasmuch  as 
Ujpon  a  subject  that  concerns  the  deepest  interests 
of  men  no  great  religious  teacher  can  do  other  than 
afford  some  guidance  to  those  who  seek  knowledge 
and  truth  at  his  lips ;  and  negative,  since  tlie 
revelation  which  he  may  venture  or  see  fit  to  make 
of  his  own  thoughts  will  obviously  be  determined 
and  limited  by  the  character  and  capacity  of  his 
contemporaries.  In  a  sense  neither  derogatory  nor 
contemptuous  towards  his  liearers,  he  will  refuse 
to  cast  his  pearls  Ijefore  swine.  Environment 
naturally  and  ini'vi(:il.l\-  [.lavs  :i,  l.u-c  part  in 
moulding  the  fcim  inl..'  wliir'li  .lo.iinir  shull  be 
cast,  and  in  assi - ii i 1 1 l;  ihc  l)nuiiiU  liryimd  which 
it  shall  not  mo\-r.  T.-jrlnnu  :i|.|ii(i|in;(ic  .-iiid  wel- 
come to  Ih.-  ki'ni-uillr.l  ;iii.l  pliil.i^..|i|iii' circles  of 
Athens  will  l^ill  ..n  .lull  nml  iii:i|i|ii  v.i.-itivu  ears  by 
the  watt-r.si.l..  ..r  in  \\u-  li.hl,  uf  (l^lilcc.  And  of 
the  confcNsc.lly  yualc^l  'I'c.iclici-  tli.it  the  world 
has  ever  known  this  may  be  expected  to  be  pre- 
eminently true  ;  He  will  make  His  sayings  accord 
both  as  to  form  and  sulistance  with  the  receptive 
ability  of  those  to  wlinin  thny  are  clclivcrcd,  Tliere 
will  be  many  thin.L's  within  (lie  c..inp.i--  nf  lli~  dwn 
knowledge  which   tlicy  raniidl    now    lirm  i.ln  li;'-). 

And    though     He    will'   , -it      limr:,     ;jl\e     Ulleranre     to 


sayings  ii.- 
and  .sign  i  I 
shadowiiiu 
which  oiii\ 
the  major 


I  K. ■'  ■),  ui  a  depth 

■'.iii|ji  iheiision,  fore- 
II  niHleistanding  of 
ill  lie  .-i.lile  to  grow, 
ion  will  not  be  con- 
that  instruction  lie 
hearers,  no  fruitful 
tmil  and  intellectual 


barren  and  iivolitless  tc 
seed  germinating;  In  new 
life.  Moreover,  il  i- inerisely  ihese  -ayin;^^,  ili^al- 
ing  with  the  hiuliri.  moir  al.-iiad  .nel  -npi'.-t- 
sensible  side  of  lliin--.  thai  wniil.l  l.i-  iii.i-l  lik.ly 
to  be  lost  upon  onlmaiy  iliN(i]iles.  id  fail  tn  lind  a 
place  in  their  memory',  ami  in  their  suhsefjueut 
reproductions,  whether  written  or  oral,  of  the 
Master's  teaching.  Only  by  the  choicer  natm'es, 
the  more  relincd  and  contemplative  spirits  aiiioni;- 

His    follower-S,     such     as    avc     cuiueive     the    Apiistle 

John  to  have  been,  wnnid  (hiv  .-i-iHrt  of  His  ,||s- 
course  and  doctrine  l.e  c.-muiit  n\<  and  tve.asme.l,  id 
be  afterwards  faithfully  deliveieil  as  words  .jiavavTa 
(rvv€Tol(nv,  although  for  the  moment  they  may  ha\-e 
soared  far  above  the  care  or  <omprehension  of 
those  who  first  heard  them  with  their  outward 
ears. 

Upon  a  priori  gTounds,  therefore,  bearing  in  mind 
the  character  of  the  people  among  whom  Christ 
lived  and  with  whom  He  had  to  deal,  we  should 
expect  to  iind  the  speculative  and  philosophic 
side  of  doctrine  but  slightly  represented,  while 
stress  is  laid  more  upon  ethics  and  the  practical 
conduct  of  life.  The  supernatural  will  be  stated, 
as  it  were,  in  terms  of  the  natural,  the  heavenly 
of  the  earthly,  and  with  a  constant  recognition  of 
the  actual  needs  and  circumstances  and  possibil- 
ities of  His  hearers.  Whether  and  how  far  this 
VOL.  1.-50 


is  so  in  fact  only  an  examination  of  the  texts  can 
show.  Such  an  examination  of  the  more  or  less 
direct  references  in  the  Gospels  to  a  future  life  will 
be  most  conveniently  conducted  under  the  three 
divisions  suggested,  viz.— (1)  a  renewed  life  after 
death,  (2)  the  permanence  of  this  life,  (3)  its  com- 
prehensiveness, whether  it  is  to  be  conceived  as 
embracing  the  entire  race  of  mankind  or  limited 
to  a  part  thereof.  It  will  be  necessary  to  take 
separately  the  evidence  of  the  Synoptic  Gospels 
and  of  St.  John. 

A.  The  Synoptists.— (1)  With  regard  to  the  first 
point  little  need  be  said,  for  indeed  there  is  nothing 
in  dispute.  That  the  teaching  of  Christ  assumes 
from  first  to  last  a  cotiscious  life  bcyoiul  the  grave 
for  Himself  and  His  hearers  lies  upon  the  surface 


His  entire  rule  of  life. 

The  wlidle  tdiie  df  II  is  speech,  the  implications  of 
His  ]iaial,les,  Ui-  -aiictidus  with  which  He  sur- 
rounds Ills  en.diu.iueiiients  and  warnings,  the 
comparative  \aliie  which  lie  teaches  men  to  set 
upon  heavenly  and  earthly  things,  the  gravity  and 
seriousness  of  His  outlook  into  the  future,  all 
show  that  here  at  least  to  Him  and  to  His  hearers 
there  was  common  ground  ;  that  He  did  not  need 
to  begin  by  jnoving  to  them  that  death  was  not 
the  end  of' all,  but  that  the  universal  postulate  of 
religious  thought  of  His  day  anticipated  a  renewal 
of  personal  and  conscious  eNisienie  after  death. 
In  this  respect  He  was  but  acid|iiii)-,  asMiining, 
and  making  the  basis  of  inipres-n,.  i\li(,iiation 
anil  warning  what  the  majority  .it  least  df  His 
contemporaries  believed. 

The  reiieated  references  to  the  coming  of  the 
Kingdom  of  God  or  of  the  heavens  (Mt  3-  4"  10' 
12-»,  Jlk  l'\  l.k  9-'  10''  at.),  into  which  not  everyone 


who    prdless,-s    Idvallv    w 

Day  ol  .lii.lu ni  dr''lli; 

10",  Mt  7--"/.);  Id  Ills  d, 
26==,  Mk'J-'lU"',  Lk  IS'  ^' 
Son  of  Man  (Mt  lO-'  lii- 
those  who  have  confess^ 
earth  will  reap  as  they  le 
fession  or  denial  of  iliei 
the  holy  angels  (Mt  In 
suppose  and  rest  upon  tie 
another  life  after  this.  I 
treasure  in  heaven  (Mt  li- 
of  which  is  clearly  not  > 
'  In    the    regeneration '    1 


.la\ 


7=');  to 

the 

l,k 

on  (Mt : 

■J9.  us 

iming  0 

the 

'-  all  ^ 

hen 

Him   I 

ipon 

Father 

a,nd 

••),-all 

])re- 

if  a  bcli 

^tm 

ne  to  la 

V  up 

Him  to 


11-1. 1  Ihin.ldi  ,idwci-  iMl  -Ji;-,  Ml..  I  1-:  ef.  Mt  24™, 
.Mk  I:P\  Lk2|-i.  ■riic-ldlil.rl,  ;lll,l  ileath,  shall  be 
with  Christ  in  Paradise  (l.k  2:;^-).  More  than  one 
parable  bears  emphatic  witness  to  the  same  belief, 
for  example  that  of  the  King  and  the  Wedding 
Peast  (Mt  22'ff-),  of  the  Talents  (2.y^"-),  of  the  Rich 
Man  and  Lazarus  (lyk  Hi'  "'  i.  Tliese  and  other  ex- 
lucssi, , lis  which  nii,L'lil  lie  ciir.l.  li^iir/itive  as  .some 
df  tlieiii  iinddiiliteilly  arc,  .-iilleiiiitly  emphasize 
thefonii  and  substance  df  a  Leaulung  which  is  not 
limited  to  the  present,  butalwaj's  and  consistently 
presupposes  a  life  of  active  consciousness  bej'ond 
the  grave. 

It  is  doulitful  whether 
es  (Mt  2223-33,  Mkl: 
to  this.  The  scope  and  articles  ot  the  creed  that  thc.v  professed 
remain  very  uncertain.  And  their  famous  apologue  is  perhaps 
rather  directed  a-^ainst  the  conception  of  a  joint  and  common 
resurrection  at  one  time  and  place,  at  which  the  relationships  of 
this  life  would  be  resumed,  than  implies  disbelief  in  an>'  sequel 
after  death  to  the  life  lived  upon  earth.  The  incident  gives 
occasion  at  least  to  a  most  emphatic  assertion  on  the  part  of 
Christ  of  the  reality  of  the  life  that  succeeds  the  present,  and 
an  equally  emphatic  repudiation  of  the  idea  that  those  who 
have  died  "have  cea.'ied  to  tie—'  God  is  not  the  God  of  the  dead, 
but  of  the  living  ;  for  all  live  unto  him.' 

(2)  The  question  of  the  duration  of  this  i 


'life. 


?86 


IMMOKTALITY 


IMMOKTALlTV 


the  permanence  or  impermanence  of  the  state  after 
death,  presents  greater  dillieulties.  Once  again  it 
may  be  said  in  anticipation  that  the  probabilities 
of  the  case  are  strongly  in  favour  of  the  former 
hypothesis.  A  teacher  of  the  elevation  and  spiritu- 
ality of  Christ  would  hardly  be  likely  to  su<,^gest 
to  His  hearers  as  a  reward  for  following  Him  a 
prolonged  existence  indeed,  but  one  which  closed 
in  the  thick  darkness  of  oblivion ;  and  if  He  wished 
to  convey  the  thought  that  in  this  respect  a  sharp 
distinction  prevailed  between  those  who  loved  and 
obeyed  Him  and  those  who  did  not, — the  former 
are  to  be  immortal,  the  latter  entirely  cease  to 
be. — He  would  do  so  vei-y  clearly  and  emphatic- 
ally, as  presenting  a  further  powerful  and  almost 
overwhelming  incentive  to  hearken  to  His  words. 
Moreover,  it  is  to  be  noted  also  that  the  conception 
of  '  endlessness '  in  the  abstract  is  not  one  easily 
formulated  or  grasped,  and  that  a  doctrine  of  tliis 
character,  assuming  it  to  be  present  in  His  teach- 
ing, may  very  well  prove  to  have  been  set  fortli  in 
the  simplest  terms,  rather  by  way  of  .suggestion 
and  illustration  that  would  appeal  to  His  hearers, 
than  in  the  rigorous  language  of  a  scheme  of  meta- 
physics. The  more  important  terms  that  bear 
upon  this  point  are  collected  and  will  lie  con- 
veniently examined  together  at  a  later  stage.  A 
few  expressions  only  from  the  Synoptic  Gospels 
call  here  for  notice. 

One  of  the  most  important  passages,  rather, 
perhaps,  on  the  ground  of  what  it  implies  than  of 
what  it  directly  states,  is  the  declaration  reeorde<l 
in  St.  Matthew's  Gospel  (16'*)  of  the  permanence 
and  inWolability  of  Christ's  Church,  founded  and 
built  up  as  it  is  upon  Himself.*  The  Speaker  can 
hardly  be  conceived  as  thinking  of  a  mere  tempor- 
ai-y  duration  of  that  Church,  united  as  it  is  with 
Him  in  the  closest  of  all  bonds  ;  the  destruction  or 
annihilation  of  the  one  would  involve  a  like  fate 
for  the  other  ;  '  tlie  gates  of  Hades  shall  not  pre- 
vail against  it'  now  or  henceforth.  Ajid  if  the 
Church  is  to  remain,  then  necessarily  its  members 
collectively  ;  for  the  Clmrch  i^  the  members. 

It  may  be  said  also  that  the  abiding  nature  of 
Christ's  words  (Mt  24»,  Mk  13'i,  Lk  21^3),  under 
the  circumstances  of  their  utterance,  presupposes 
the  continued  existence  of  intelligent  receptive 
hearers  and  doers.  The  permanence  of  His  words 
is  contrasted  with  that  which  in  the  universe 
appears  most  permanent  and  unchanged,  '  Heaven 
and  earth  shall  p;iss  away,  Imt  my  words  shall  not 
pass  away'  (Mk  13".  if.  Mt  .'i'*.  I.k  lij'") ;  in  no  part 
or  degi-ee  shall   tlicii   luc  (.iii|ili-liiii,_.ut  fail  to   be 

achieved.     But  this  ni.lit.-   tullilment  does  not 

imply  the  cessation  ol  tlinir  I'llVit  upon  and  in 
tliose  for  whom  thej'  are  spoken.  Kather  is  it 
the  beginning  of  a  new  life,  which  is  only  then 
perfected. 

The  literal  demands  of  these  passages  would  be 
satislied  by  what  has  sometimes  been  termed 
'  racial '  or  '  collective '  immortality  ;  in  which  the 
race  might  he  supposed  to  jwrsist,  while  the  indi- 
viduals, each  and  all  in  turn,  perislied.  Such  an 
interpretation  could  not  be  ruled  out  of  court  on 
the  ground  that  it  is  not  suggested  elsewhere  in 
Christ's  teaching.  But  a  conception  .so  remote 
and  unusual  would  seem  to  require  much  more 
clear  and  definite  exposition,  and  is  hardly  con- 
sistent with  the  numerous  references  to  a  personal 
and  individual  survival. 

In  a  negative  sense  also  phrases  like  ri  t4\os 

'  It  is  strange  that  it)  raCfr,  ty.  Ttrfia  is  still  sometimes  re- 
ferred to  Peter.  The  Speaker,  or  the  Evang^elist  who  reports 
Him,  is  playin;r  upon  the  name  in  a  characteristically  Oriental 
manner.  The  similarity  of  the  sound  forms  to  Oriental  thought 
a  real  bond  of  connexion  between  the  persons.  The  whole 
jioint  of  the  play  is  lost,  aiid  the  expression  reduced  to  mean- 
intjlessness  and  absurditv,  if  Xlh^c;  and  rirpot  are  identified  (cf. 
1  Co  ICW,  and  in  the  OT,  (3n  i^'.  Ex  21"  etc.). 


(Mt  24",  Mk  13',  Lk  2P),  eis  tAos  (Mt  10-  24", 
Mk  13'=),  ii  (TvvTeXeia  t.  aiQyos  (Mt  IS*'-  ^  24»)  clearly 
do  not  imply  an  ahsolute  end,  involving  annihila- 
tion or  the  like.  They  do  not,  of  course,  assert 
survival  in  any  universalistic  sense  ;  but  they  are 
not  altogether  neutral  in  the  matter  (cf .  Mt  13  ll.cc. , 
and  the  interpretation  that  is  given  by  Christ 
Himself  of  the  parable  of  the  Sower).  The  end  of 
one  era  is  the  beginning  of  another,  and  for  some 
at  least  ushers  in  a  period  of  supreme  blessedness 
(Mt  10- 24",  Mk  13'^). 

The  indications  which  the  Synoptic  Gospels 
attord  on  the  subject  of  the  comparative  duration 
of  the  existence  of  the  righteous  and  the  wicked 
after  death  are  almost  wholly  concerned  with  the 
significance  of  words  like  aiui'ios  ((ciXacris  ai.  Mt  25^'', 
TTvp  aiioviov  18^  20*^,  aiwfLov  afidpT7]fj.a  Mk  3^,  ei^ 
Tbv  aiQva  ib.),  and  wUl  be  more  conveniently  ex- 
amined together  (see  below).  Here  it  need  only 
be  said  that  jmrables  such  as  those  of  the  Rich  Man 
and  Lazarus,  the  Wise  and  Foolish  Virgins,  or  the 
Wedding  Feast,  do  not  in  themselves  suggest  or  de- 
mand any  inequality  of  treatment  as  regards  the 
mere  duration  of  the  allotted  punishment  or  re- 
ward ;  and  that  references  to  the  Judgment,  the 
Day  of  Judgment,  or  the  Last  Day  are  equally 
neutral,  as  far  as  direct  statement  is  concerned. 
WhUe  the  burning  of  the  tares  in  the  parable  of 
the  Wheat  and  the  Tares  (Mt  13^),  if  the  detaU  is 
to  be  pressed  as  anything  more  than  the  natural 
and  appropriate  setting  of  the  story, — the  legiti- 
mate and  necessary  end  of  weeds,— rather  points 
in  the  direction  of  permanence  and  indestructi- 
bility. Burning  is  not  annihilation  of  matter,  but 
transformation  of  form.  And  this  particular 
feature  of  the  parable  might  admit  of  interpreta- 
tion as  implying  renovation  through  suffering, 
but  is  hardly  satisfied  by  any  theory  of  absolute 
cessation  of  being.  Similarly,  it  might  he  urged 
that  the  vvp  S.(t§«itov  of  Mk  9**  (cf.  v.**)  implies  the 
permanence  of  the  fuel  on  which  it  feeds.  It  is 
clear,  however,  that  no  secirre  or  decisive  ar^- 
ment  can  be  based  on  what  are  obviously  allusive 
and  metaphorical  expressions. 

B.  St.  John.— Within  the  Fourth  Gospel,  where, 
if  anywhere  in  the  record  of  our  Lord's  teaching, 
we  might  expect  to  find  a  reasoned  and  philo- 
sophical doctrine  of  a  future  life,  that  teaching  is 
so  entirely,  or  almost  entirely,  conveyed  in  con- 
nexion with  a  special  phraseology,  the  leading 
terms  of  which  are  fw^,  fa»7)  oi'iivios,  and  eis  t. 
aiUm,  that  little  need  be  said  by  way  of  anticipa- 
tion of  the  special  investigation  of  these  terms. 
It  is  worth  noting,  however,  at  once,  in  view  of 
the  interpretation  of  these  expressions  which  >vill 
be  urged  below,  that  every  reference  in  St.  John 
to  a  definite  termination  or  close  of  a  world-perioil 
is,  as  we  saw  was  the  case  in  tlie  Synoptists, 
surli  as  to  lire-suppose  and  assume  a  continuation 
bi'ynn.l  Till'  conception  of  an  absolute  end, 
l»y,,u.l  \»1m.  li  tliere  is  nothing,  is  as  foreign  to 
till-  tliou:;lit  ..1  tliis  Gospel  as  to  that  of  the  others. 
There  i.,  a  ■  la.st  day'  (r,  iffx^rv  V^pa,  6»'-«-" 
11"  12^,  a  phrase  not  found  in  the  Synoptists); 
but  it  terminates  one  age  only  to  usher  in  another 
more  glorious.  Judgment  (k-p/ffis)  again  in  St. 
John  does  not  ordinarily  await  the  setting  up 
of  a  future  tribunal  :  it  is  immediate  conviction, 
wrought  by  the  jiresence  of  the  light.  And  in 
the  one  passage  where  it  is  definitely  relegated 
to  the  future  (5=*)  the  parallelism  of  the  phrase- 
ology {dfddTaffii  /cp£<T£us— di'do-Tatris  fu^s)  shows  that 
whatever  threatening  of  sult'ering  or  retribution 
may  lie  behind  the  word,  tliere  is  no  thought  of 
extinction,  or  of  a  final  end,  in  the  mind  of  the 
Speaker,  —  they  that  have  practised  ill  (RVm) 
come  to  the  resurrection  equally  with  those  that 
have  done  good.     He  cannot  be  conceived  to  mean 


IltfMORTALITY 


IMMORTALITY 


that  they  are  raised  merely  that  forthwith,  or 
after  a  longer  or  shorter  period,  they  may  be 
destroyed. 

It  is  in  St.  John  also  that  the  most  emphatic 
assertions  are  found  —  apart  from  the  special 
phraseology  to  whicli  reference  has  been  made — 
of  the  abiding  lilessednt^ss  and  freedom  from  ill 
of  those  who  believe  in  (Jlirist.  '  He  that  believeth 
in  me  oi>  fi.ii  dwoOdi'ri'  (ll-«)  ;  he  that  drinks  of  the 
Chri.st-given  water  '  oi)  /ti)  Si.^-fi<Tu'  (4''') ;  'he  that 
Cometh  unto  me  ov  jxri  Treii/dcr?;,  and  he  that  be- 
lieveth on  me  oi»  n'tj  ditprjirei.  '  irunrore '  (6"=^).  The 
'  many  mansions '  and  the  prepared  place  of  14- 
are  clearly  intended  to  convey  the  assurance  of 
more  than  merely  temporary  resting  -  places. 
Finally,  the  prayer  that  all  His  followers  may 
be  one,  as  He  is  one  vnth  the  Father  (17"'-'),  and 
may  be  with  Him  where  He  is  (v. 2*),  implies  for 
those  who  are  thus  united  a  coequal  duration  of 
existence  with  Himself. 

For  the  believer,  therefore,  the  future,  thus  con- 
ditioned and  defined,  is  a  life  of  blessedness.  But 
there  is  nothing  to  suggest,  much  less  to  .show,  that 
the  continuance  of  the  life  is  dependent  upon  its 
felicity  ;  or  that  these  two  features  are  other  than 
completely  independent,  no  necessary  connexion 
subsisting  between  them  which  would  make  an 
eternal  but  unblessed  life  a  contradiction  in  terms. 

atuv,  oMkios,  €1!  rbf  aiCJva  or  tous  aiuinai.  —  The 
primary  signiiic.-inee  of  the  term  alwp  is  not  seri- 
ously in  question.  '  Age  '  or  '  period  '  suggests  a 
limited  stretch  of  time  marked  Ijy  a  definite  close. 
In  this  sense  the  word  is  found  in  the  Gospels, 
with  reference  to  the  present  era  under  which  the 
speaker  is  living,  either  simply  or  as  ethically 
characterized  by  degeneracy  and  corruption.  The 
cares  ToC  at'ujpos  choke  the  word  ( M I  K!-'  ,Mk4''l; 
the  sons  of  this  alwv  are  wiser  lli.m  I  In'  -oii~  i<\ 
light  (Lk  168)  ;  oStos  6  aidiv  is  c(mu,.^l"(l  nmIU  i\i,- 
aldv  that  is  to  follow  it  as  6  ^tWc^'i-  (.Ml  IS-],  .n 
iKeinos  (Lk  20^'"-)  ;  and  the  latter  appears  again  as 
6  epxVfos  o-iiiiv  in  Mk  1(P  li  Lk  18*,  where  the 
present  is  oStos  6  KaipSs.  It  is  worthy  of  notice  that 
in  one  of  the  above  passages  (Lk  20*=)  the  future 
aliiv  is  something  to  be  gained  (Tu;^eif ) ;  its  nature 
or  characteristic,  therefore,  was  more  prominent 
to  the  writer's  mind  than  any  mere  question  of 
duration.  In  one  context,  the  parable  of  the 
Tares  in  St.  Matthew,  the  end  of  the  present  age 
is  definitely  indicated  (r;)  a-wWXeia  (ro5)  aiiii-os  (.\tt 
1339f.  49j^  and  tlie  same  phrase  is  twice  emjiloj'ed 
later  in  the  Ciospel,  once  by  the  disciples  with 
reference  to  the  Parousia,  which  they  assume  to  be 
synchronous  with  the  end  of  the  ai'cic  (24'),  and 
again  by  Christ  Himself,  when  He  asserts  His 
presence  with  His  disciples  ?us  rfi^  o-wreXeias  toS 
alCvo^  (28="). 

In  the  last  two  passages  especially  it  is  clear 
that  in  no  shape  or  form  is  there  attached  by  the 
Speaker  or  His  hearers  to  the  phrase  '  end  of  the 
age '  the  thought  of  a  termination  of  personality 
or  conscious  life.  The  close  of  the  one  epoch 
marks  the  opening  of  .anntlier.  into  wliicli  pass 
without  interrupli.PH  the  .■ictuis  .-inil  ji.n  f  iri]i,it()rs 
in  the  present.  'I'li.'  )i|i-il'ji'  -i\''ii  t..  t  lir  ,li-,'i|,les 
of  personal  assocuitiun  wiih  lliin^clf.  (ii-  lathn  of 
His  personal  assoeiatidii  with  tlieui  -an  association 
which  is  already  subsisting  [iyui  tied'  vixav  cip.i,  Alt 
28-"),  could  hardly  have  been  couched  in  more 
emphatic  or  significant  terms,  or  in  words  less 
suggestive  of  a  possible  severance,  however  clearly 
they  may  admit  or  even  require  the  thought  of  a 
change  of  the  conditions  under  which  it  is  main- 
tained. 

aiwf  is  also  twice  nsed  in  the  Gospels  with 
reference  to  the  past,  ax'  alQivo!  Lk  1™,  ^k  toO  aiCivo^ 
Jn  9^-.  In  neither  case  are  the  words  those  of 
Christ  Himself.     And  all,  perhaps,  that  need  be 


said  is  that  the  speake 


[is  and  the  man 


born  blind  respectively,  employ  tlie  ])hrase  to 
denote  in  an  indefinite  kind  of  way  the  whole 
antecedent  period  of  human  history  during  which 
the  conditions  of  life  upon  the  earth  have  been 
such  as  they  now  know  them  to  be,  or  believe  them 
to  have  been  in  former  times. 

Elsewhere  in  the  Gosjiels,  the  word  under  con- 
sideration is  found  only  in  the  phrase  els  rbv  aiQva, 
or  f  1!  Tois  aidi/as.  The  latter  occurs  in  Lk  I"'  and 
in  the  inserted  doxology  of  Mt  6"  (retained  in  the 
margin  of  the  Revised  Version).  It  may  fairly  be 
regarded  as  merely  a  strengthened  form  of'  the 
other,  intermediate  between  that  and  the  yet 
more  emphatic  expression  ei's  toi>s  aiwua^  tCiv 
alilipuv  employed  especially  in  the  Apocalypse, 
and  by  St.  Paul  in  doxologies.  Ei's  rdi/  aiCiva 
occurs  once  in  St.  Matthew  and  St.  Luke  (Mt 
21«,  Lk  ps),  twice  in  St.  Mark  (S-'  11"),  am! 
twelve  times  in  St.  John  (4"  6='- «*  S'^'"'- sif.  lu-a 
11=«  12^  138  14'<'),  constituting  indeed  this  Evan- 
gelist's sole  use  of  the  word  alwf,  with  the  excep- 
tion of  the  phrase  above  noted  (9^-).  Setting  aside 
Mt  2V^  II  Mk  11",  which  condemns  the  fig-tree  to 
perpetual  barrenness,  and  where  /^j/kM  eis  rbv  aidva 
is  a  .strong  negation  of  any  possible  or  prospective 
fruitfulness  at  any  time ;  and  the  passages  from 
St.  Luke,  of  which  the  first  is  Messianic  and  ex- 
pressly asserts  the  endlessness  of  the  Messiah's 
kingdom,  and  the  second  has  reference  to  the 
Divine  attitude  or  action  towards  men,  which  also 
can  hardly  be  thought  of  as  subject  to  termination 
or  change  ;  the  remainder  may  be  classified  as 
positive  or  negative.  In  the  former,  the  phrase 
615  tAk  alQva  qualifies  some  verb  expressive  of  con- 
tinuani-e  or  life  (u}^  Jn  G"- ■"*,  (jL^veif  8^'  12^^  etvai 
14"'l  :  ill  ihr  l.iHn  ii  i^  joined  mth  a  more  or  less 

i'iii|ili:ii  ir    _::i'w\  .iiiii  denies  the  po-ssibility  of 

llLr  .■.ml  iiiLTiK  \  Ii.  wliiili  ilie  passage  refers  {om 
.Mk  :!  ',  An  S     ;u.'  ^,i  Jn  1"  S''"-  W^  1P«  W). 

Of  all  these  passages  it  may  be  said  at  once 
that  the  Speaker  clearly  has  in  mind  a  state  of 
things  of  which  no  reversal  is  by  Him  conceived  as 
possible,  either  now  or  at  any  future  time.  In 
jjresence  of  natural  death,  the  solemn  declaration 
that  he  who  believes  ov  /iri  aTo$dpri  eh  riv  aidea  ( Jn 
11^^)  does  not  merely  defer  the  date,  but  repudiates 
the  possibility  of  anything  that  deserves  to  be 
called  death  for  the  belie  """ 

again,  whose  soio 
comes  to  an  end,  is  expressly  contrasted  with  the 
son  who  fUyd  ek  rbv  aiCbva  (.tn  S-")  ;  and  the  same 
expression  is  used  of  the  Christ  (12*^),  with  the 
same  associated  ideas  of  permanence  and  per- 
petuity. Peter  rejects  his  Master's  otter  of  service 
in  washing  his  feet  (13*) — a  rejection  which  he 
immediately  after  gladly  retracts— not  certainly 
with  the  idea  that  he  may  accept  the  otter  on  some 
or  any  future  occasion,  but  sincerely,  and  as  far  as 
his  present  thought  is  concerned,  finally.  And  life 
c/t  Tbv  alQva.  (6^''  ^)  is  not  limited,  terminable  life, 
merely  lengthened  out  as  compared  with  the 
present,  but  is  a  life  that  needs  no  artificial  and 
bodily  sustenance  to  enable  it  uninterruptedly  to 
endure.  Tlie  connotation  of  the  phrase,  whether 
on  the  lips  of  Christ  Himself  or  employed  by 
another,  evidently  im|)lies  an  outlook  into  a 
future  to  which  the  thought  of  the  writer  or 
speaker  neither  assigns  nor  conceives  it  possible 
to  assign  a  limit. 

The  same  considerations  will  apply  to  the  ad- 
jective  aldivios,    and    esiiecially   as    it   is   used   to 


qualify  fw^  i 
tive  feature 
For  the  won 
rendering  '  ;i 
rendering  it 
ception  the  \ 


lich  becomes  a  distinc- 

os|icl  and  First  Epistle. 
.     Ii;il  .Hi.'-tion-begging 

i'  ■   1  i.ii   t  I'.l.     In  such  a 
i'U  on  the  con- 
Ill. ■.!   ..1   I  lie  'age,'  and 


lr88 


MMORTALITY 


IMMORTALITY 


the  associations  it  bore  to  their  minds.  If  they 
thought  of  it  as  definitely  terminated  or  termin- 
able, then  'age-long'  is  equivalent  to  '  temporary.' 
If  they  regarded  it  and  vTote  of  it  vithout  any 
associated  idea  of  a  limit  or  end,  or  if  the  context 
<'learly  intimates  that  no  such  idea  would  have 
been  admitted,  then  so  far  '  age-long '  is  synony- 
mous with  'immortal,' '  everlasting,' or  'eternal.' 
And  it  appears  undesirable  to  introduce  a  new 
and  ambiguous  term.  Apart,  however,  from  the 
phrase  fur;  aiuvios,  the  adjective  is  of  rare  occur- 
rence in  the  Synoptic  Gospels,  and  is  not  used  by 
St.  John.  It  is  found  three  times  in  St.  Matthew 
in  association  with  terms  exipressive  of  sutt'ering 
or  retribution  to  be  endured  in  the  future  (t4  iri'p 
TO  alufiov,  18^  25^'  ;  KiXans  aliivio^,  26'"*).  St.  Luke 
has  a  reference  (16")  to  rds  alaviov^  aKt)va.t,  'the 
eternal  tabernacles,'  open  to  those  who  have  been 
far-sighted  enough  to  secure  to  themselves  friends 
while  it  was  in  their  power,  from  whom  in  their 
oAvn  day  of  need  they  may  claim  favours  and 
return  in  kind.  And  a  significant  and  unique 
phrase  in  Mk  3-'  6s  5'  ai-  p\a(r(pTifiriari  .  .  .  Ivoxos 
eariv  alwviov  afj.apTriij.aTos,  suggests  far-reaching  con- 
clusions, with  regard  to  whicli  all  that  perhaps 
need  be  said  in  this  place  is  that  it  stands  here  as 
an  explanatory  addition  to  an  emphatic  atUrina- 
tion  that  blasphemy  against  the  Holy  Spirit  hath 
not  forgiveness  fis  rm  aidva.  The  context,  there- 
fore, precludi's  :in  iiit'ipri'tation  in  a  sense  con- 
trary to  the  iini'liratiuiis  of  the  preceding  words, 
as  though  the  writer  l^i.^ht  lie  thinking  of  an  act 
of  sin  committed  once  for  all,  and  then  with  all 
that  it  entailed  delinit«ly  and  finally  set  aside. 


of  fuT)  aicivios  is  mystically  described  as  an  eating 
of  His  flesh  and  drinking  of  His  blood,  and  is 
associated  with  the  resurrection  at  the  last  day 
(6**).  This  last  passage  would  by  itself  prove, 
what  the  others  assume,  that  i'uri  alunos,  though 


liresent,  is  not  limited  by  the  present.  Elsewhere 
tliere  is  an  approach  to  the  Synoptic  standpoint  uf 
a  future  life  over  against  or  following  on  that  now 


may  be  trusted.     The  TB  xpiirim  is  fonnrl  in  xi  '- 

•  aiiil  llic  eur- 

sives,  with  one  or  two  Latin  matiM-.i....     ..„i 

Syriac.    The  various  ieaciin<'  iu^^T.  ■      • 
seem  to  be  a  correction  of  xi.uc,i-. 

■a   iVOlild 

1  la  xluce 

into  the  text  the  meaning' of 'sii.fu; 

.1  from 

'a  sin.'    Cf.  II.  B.  Suofr, 7i, /„•  .  :,  , 

The  tnif  ,.v.,„.iM,,„  „ ,..  1... 

I'in  his 

1  n-reon 

to  an  .  '    I 

But  •■• .  ■ 

'   -  ribes 

thesin  ,1-.  i[  a.  1  '    !•■  .     .       •  . 

forgivc,R«  1,'.    li.l    |K,.,„„„ ,,,,, 

1  ','  -,    "-' 

attached   to  endless  !.\„.      This   i- 

punishment.     Sin  reacts  on  tlie   n, 

state  continues.    Tlr 
?  of  God's  resentment  a- .  .       ,  ,  h  ,- 

the  result  of  the  effect  of  any  sin,  oi  e-uti^e  in  ^m,  m  iixin^  tne 
sinful  state  beyond  recover^'.' 

With  regard  to  the  phrase  fw^;  aiiivios,  there  is  a 
striking  diflerence  in  its  associations  in  the  few 
passages  in  which  it  is  found  in  the  Synoptists, 
and  in  the  more  frequent  use  of  St.  John ;  a 
difference  which  seems  to  reflect  the  varying  atti- 
tude of  the  writers  towards  the  teaching  of  Christ. 
In  the  Synoptists  the  sphere  of  i-uij  aiiino!  is  in  the 
future.  It  is  to  be  inherited  (Mt  19-»),  and  to  be 
received  in  the  coming  aiiii'  (Mk  KP.  Lk  W)  in 
recompense  for  that  which  the  disciples  of  Christ 
forego  in  this  ;  which  the  ruler  (apxwi-,  Lk  18'^  n  Mt 
W,  Mk  10'"),  or  lawyer  {vofuKds,  Lk  10=»)  conceives 
that  he  may  inherit  or  attain  (o-xw,  Mt.  I.e.)  by 
virtue  of  good  deeds  in  the  present.  In  St.  John, 
on  the  contrary,  furj  aldyios  is  a  present  possession. 
The  believer  has  or  may  have  it  (Jn  Z^  5^  6",  S"-  "^ 
e") ;  and  the  bestowal  of  this  gift  is  described  as 
the  express  aim  and  purjiose  of  the  coming  of  tlie 
Son  into  the  world  and  of  His  death,  the  fruit  of 
the  Father's  love  (3'")  and  will  (6'"'),  but  conferred 
by  the  Son  Himself  (10=*  IT).  In  one  passage  .-tlso 
where  the  same  plirase  is  used,  the  closeness  of  the 
fellowship  Avith  Himself  implied  in  the  possessi<m 

•Intern.  Critical  Cumiiwiitary,  'St.  Mark,'  T.  i  T.  Clark, 


lived,  although  sight  seems  never  to  be  entirely 
lost  of  the  conception  of  fu?;  alamos  as  subsisting 
already  and  now  attainable.  He  that  hateth  his 
soul  (^vxv)  in  this  world  will  keep  it  fis  fuiji/ 
aiiiviov  (12-^)  ;  the  meat  {^pCxxis),  the  gift  of  the  Son 
of  Man,  abideth  unto  eternal  life  (6").  The 
same  thought  recurs  in  Christ's  words  to  the 
woman  of  Samaria ;  there  it  is  the  water.  His 
gift,  which  becomes  a  well  of  water  springing  up 
unto  eternal  life  (4").  And,  finally,  in  connexion 
with  the  same  incident,  the  harvest,  the  ripeness  of 
which  the  disciples  are  bidden  to  recognize,  is  laid 
up  unto  a  future  which  is  undefined  in  time  and 
place  ;  the  reaper  gathereth  together  fruit  ei's  fuj)j' 
aidiniov,  and  shares  with  the  sower  in  a  common 
joy  (4»). 

Once  also  Christ  appeals  to  the  knowledge  or 
belief  of  His  hearers  in  the  present  reality  of  this 
eternal  life ;  they  think  that  they  have  it  in  the 
OT  Scriptures,  missing  the  spirit  there,  and  the 
testimony  of  these  Scriptures  to  Himself,  and 
ascribing  life  to  the  letter  (5'").  A  somewhat 
similar  thought  underlies  the  answer  of  Simon 
Peter  to  Christ's  question  whether  he  and  the 
Twelve  intend  to  follow  the  example  of  others,  and 
be  repelled  by  '  hard  sayings ' ;  '  Thou  hast  the 
words  of  eternal  life'  (ei^'),— words,  that  is  to  say, 
which  in  their  sjiirit  and  teaching  bring  fwjji'  aiuivioi/ 
to  the  hearers.  Finally,  lest,  as  it  were,  any  linger- 
ing possibility  or  suggestion  should  remain  of  a 
I  time-limit  to  be  understood  in  the  phrase,  or  of 
its  being  confined  under  a  merely  temporal  cate- 
gory, it  is  twice  expressly  defined  in  terms  which 
are  ethical  and  spiritual,  and  transcend  all  limita- 
tions of  time  or  change ;  the  Divine  ^utoX^,  com- 
mitted by  the  Father  to  the  Son  and  by  Him 
transmitted  to  the  world,  is  eternal  life  (1'2*') ;  and 
in  .similar  pregnant  words  (17-')  s'wt;  ai'iii-ios  is  the 
learning  to  know  the  only  true  God,  and  Jesus 
(^'hrist  whom  He  has  sent. 

All  the  passages  in  which  this  phrase  is  found 
in  the  Gospels  have  now  been  passed  in  rcNiew. 
An  extension  of  the  examination  to  the  remaining 
books  of  the  New  Testament  would  not  modify  the 
conclusions  reached,  or  throw  fresh  light  upon  its 
meanins'.  It  is  used  twice  by  St.  Luke  in  the  Acts 
fl3*'*i:  bv  St.  Paul  in  the  Romans  (2'  5='  6~'-), 
(i^iliii-n-  I.  '  nti.l  Pastoral  Epistles  (1  Ti  l"i6'-, 
'I'll  I  ^  '  ~  i .  .lohn  himself  in  his  First  Epistle 
( I    -     :;  ;  the  adjective  not  elsewhere),  and 

by  .SI.  .Juile:  n.  ').  These  conclusions  are  entirely 
in  harmony  with  the  results  obtained  from  a  con- 
sideration of  the  term  aiiiv,  or  of  the  adjective 
alamos  standing  by  itself,  foii;  aiiinos  is  in  its 
significance  independent  of  time-limits,  and  may 
be  described  indifferently  as  either  present  or  future. 
When,  moreover,  the  occasion  offers  to  indicate 
its  characteristics  and  meaning  by  definition,  that 
definition  is  fi'amed  not  on  the  lines  of  time  and 
space,  as  here,  there,  or  elsewhere,  now  or  then, 
but  is  wholly  ethical,  .mpranatural,  belonging  to 
the  realm  of  the  mind  and  spirit,  and  lifting  up 
fuj)  aiwi/ios  beyond  the  touch  of^  change  or  end,  into 
the  region  of  the  changeless,  the  immortal. 

At  the  risk,  therefore,  of  repetition,  it  must  again 
be  pointed  out  that  words  .and  phrases  which  are 
crucial  for  any  doctrine  of  immortality  as  taught 
by  Christ  in  the  Gospels  so  far  from  implying  or 
suggesting  an  absolute  termiiiatiun.  wlictlier  nearer 
or  more  distant,  to  that  future  which  tlie  speakers 


I 


IMMORTALITY 


IMMORTALITY 


789 


or  writers  have  in  mind,  seem  to  indicate  that  no 
such  idea  was  ('^■l_■v  procnt  to  them  ;  and  in  some 
passages,  wliirli  un-  ueitlKT  isolated  nor  uniui- 
r    iHk'iiiix'liaion    of    the    writer's 


portant,  a 
thought  in 
exclude  th 
found  at  a 
towards  wl 

There  yr 
be  retenv,! 
ness  iIku-.i,' 
the  iijiidit 
when  used 


:  context  appears  to 
]y  such  limit  being 
r  place  in  the  '  age  ' 
locted. 

'sVff^ai,  ffwT-qpia. 
woiiK  ;iii(l  [iliiases  to 
:i..i,-  ,,r   l.-.^s  .li.^tinct- 
.M   c.iilnisl    it  with 
of    them, 


eir  fullest  sense,  imply  non 
taliti/,  but  they  do  not  bear  directly  upon  the 
question  of  the  duration  of  existence  after  death, 
which,  as  we  have  seen,  has  come  to  be  the  chief 
element  in  the  connotation  of  the  term  '  immor- 
tality.' The  chief  of  these  is  fuij  with  its  deriva- 
tives, including  the  phrases  of  ^^■hiell  it  forms  a 
part,  fwi)  in  the  Gospels  is  not  mere  physical  life, 
but  is  an  expression  for  the  higher  life,  the  life 
which  is  life  indeed,  life  in  its  fullest,  richest 
aspects.  Such  life  was  in  the  Word  (Jn  I'') ;  it  is 
Christ's  gift  to  His  disciples  (10'^,  cf.  6^=) ;  nay,  He 
is  Himself  '  the  life '  ( 1 V-^  14").  It  is  so  good  a  posses- 
sion that  to  '  enter  into  life '  is  worth  tlie  sacrifice 
of  an  eye  or  a  limb  {Mt  18»'- 1|  Mk  9^-  ■").  It  begins 
after  death  (Jn  5^) — not  in  a  temjioral  sense,  but 
when  OdvaTOi  as  a  state  ceases  to  be  ;  and  it  is  a 
'  resurrection  of  life  '  to  whicli  the  well-doers  will 
come  forth  from  the  tomb  (v.-").  'To  have  life  in 
himself  i>  :)u  :ittiiljute  of  the  Father,  and  is  His 
gift  til  tin-  .s.iu  (\.-'');  and  this  'life'  or  'eternal 
life'  is  n/pr.acillv  -tated  to  be  the  present  posses- 
sion of  tin.  l..H,..vr  (Jn  S'^'- 36  6"- 5^),  the  gift  of 
Christ  whicli  some  of  them  wilfully  refuse  (S*), 
and  which  the  unbelieving  will  not  see  (3^^),  but 
which  is  emphatically  declared  to  be  the  final  end 
of  His  comini;-  into  the  world  (IQi",  cf.  20^1).  The 
words  which  III-  liiis  spoken  are  fuj}  (6"^),  and  His 
commaiiiliiicnl  i-  .  07  aW^-ios  (12s»).  None  of  these 
passiiui  s  sii.;u;r-t~  ih:it  the  thouglit  of  a  termina- 
tion of  the  •  life  '  was  present  to  the  mind  of  the 
Speaker ;  some  are  hardly  compatible  with  such  a 
thought,  and  others  absolutely  forbid  it  {e.ff.  Jn 
I''  52«).  This  fuii,  therefore,  is  fittingly  represented 
as  aMj-ios. 

A  similar  absence  of  limitation  will  be  found  to 
characterize  expressions  such  as  o-iifeo-Sai,  auT-qpia, 
etc.,  which  describe  the  future  from  the  point  of 
view  of  deliverance  from  the  present,  its  calamities 
and  its  evils.  These  terms,  however,  are  not  in 
themselves  suggestive  of  duration,  excejit  so  far  as 
their  results  are  involved  ;  and,  as  doctrinal  terms, 
belong  in  the  New  Testament  rather  to  the  Epistles 
than  to  the  Gospels.  In  the  eschatologieal  dis- 
courses, however,  of  the  Synoptic  Gospels,  'salva- 
tion '  is  described  as  a  state  to  be  attained  by  those 
who  endure  eis  tAos  (Mt  lO'-'^  24"||Mk  13^^);  the 
saving  of  the  life  or  soul  (^puxv,  cf.  Lk  &>)  is  .strik- 
ingly said  to  be  the  result  of  willingness  to  lose  it 
for  Christ's  sake  (MkS^^llLk  9-'^  cf.  cvp-qau  avr-qv, 
Mt  16-*) ;  and  in  St.  John  the  salvation  of  the 
Kbap.ot  is  the  purpose  of  the  Divine  mission  of  the 
Son  (Jn  3"),  the  salvation  of  His  hearers,  the  end 
of  the  words  and  teaching  whicli  He  imparts  (5**). 
Hence  'saKatinn'  is  contemplated  as  beyond  an 
'end'  :  nXos  is  lallier  a  crisis  than  a  final  close, 
the  cntraiLii-  into  new  conditions  and  a  more 
gracious  euvironment.  Both  thought  and  phrase- 
ology become  meaningless  if  the  subjects  of  the 
change  are  conceived  as  either  annihilated  or  re- 
duced to  unconsciousness. 

Agraphri.  Of  the  '  unwritten '  Sayings,  few  have 
interest  or  importance  for  the  jiresent  subject. 
The  most  noteworthy  and  authentic  is  that  which 
is  embodied  in  St.  Paul's  argument  of  1  Th  4'="". 


Whether  all  or  any  of  this  is  intended  to  be  a 
direct  citation  of  Christ's  words  must  remain 
uncertain.  The  teaching  of  the  passage  is,  how- 
ever, fomided  upon  a  X67os  Kvplov.  And  though  it 
has  in  view  only  'the  dead  in  Christ,' and  their 
jjosition  of  privilege  ami  piii.iity  as  compared  with 
those  alive  at  the  tinn-  ..I  ih^  l.nid's  descent  from 
heaven,  it  distinctly  a.-.i  i>  m  I  li.'se  that  they  will 
be  '  for  ever '  (Tdi/rori )  with  the  Lord.  The  writer 
therefore  contemplates  for  them  an  eternal  co- 
existence \\  itli  the  Lord  ;  and  he  claims  that  for  this 
doctrine  he  has  the  authority  of  Christ  Himself. 

Of  the  Logia  from  Oxyrhynchus  the  mystical 
Saying,  '  Excejit  ye  fast  to  the  world,  ye  shall  in 
no  wise  find  the  kingdom  of  God ;  and  except  ye 
keep  the  Sabbath,  ye  shall  not  see  the  Father' 
(Log.  2  :  Grenfell  and  Hunt,  p.  10),  may  be  said  to 
imply  that  those  « In,  d<.  m.  fast  and  truly  keep  the 
Sahbatli  will  >-re  the  I'aihei,  and  therefore  live 
with  Him.  (It  tlie  later  l.df^ia  also,  which  were 
discovered  in  lUUo  {Oj-i/i-Zii/Hc/iiia  Papyri,  iv.  p. 
Ifi'.),  the  Introduction,  as  it  is  named  by  the 
editors,  apparently  quotes  Jn  8*-— the  hearer  of 
these  words  '  shall  not  taste  of  death.'  And  the 
first  and  second  Sayings  both  make  reference  to  the 
Kingdom  which  shall  be  a  place  of  rest  to  him  who 
seeks  and  finds.  These  indications  are  all  of  them 
.slight,  and  do  not  add  anything  to  the  teaching  of 
the  (Id^pels.  Hut  as  far  as  they  go  they  are  in 
hanniiny  vilh  \\  Iiat  we  have  found  to  be  the  con- 
staiil  iinpliiatiiins  in  Scripture  of  the  words  of 
Christ   ami   lli>  disciples. 

The  most  striking  and  suggestive  feature,  there- 
fore, of  all  these  references  in  the  Gospels  to  the 
future,  and  of  the  doctrine  which  they  may  be 
understood  to  imply,  is  the  absence  of  any  indica- 
tion of  a  termination  of  the  new  enmlitioiis  which 
they  introduce.  In  some  ill^!all^es,  indeed,  the 
writer's  statement  might  be  UL^anhd  a>  lulourless 
in  this  resiieet,  and  the  thoii-hl  ami  context  of  his 
words  AMiiilil  iiiil  he  direitly  imitiadicted  by  an 
assumiitieii  Ihai  ihese  ii ii ii  1  i I ii ins  were  theiiiselves 
teiiiiiiiiary,  and  at  Minn-  indehidle  period  super- 
seded by  others.  Klsiuheie  the  tone  and  context 
strongly  siipiiort,  it  they  do  not  compel,  the  view 
that  the  state  of  things  contemplated  was  contem- 
plated, as  far  as  the  forecast  of  the  speaker  was 
concerned,  as  permanent.  In  a  third  and  most 
important  series  of  passages,  the  same  expressions 
and  phrases  are  directh'  applied  to  the  Divine 
Being  and  to  His  Kingdom  in  such  a  manner  as  to 
show  that  no  thought  of  a  cessation  or  close  could 
by  any  possibility  have  entered  into  the  mind  of 
the  Speaker,  or  have  been  regarded  by  Him  as  con- 
ceivable. 

Moreover,  the  change  of  circumstances  thus  in- 
troduced involves  no  interference  with  the  conscious 
life,  not,  at  least,  to  the  extent  of  reducing  it  to 
unconsciousness.  The  subjects  of  the  change  are 
represented  as  speaking,  feeling,  and  willing,  with 
all  their  faculties  under  control  and  in  action. 
Nor  is  there  any  suggestion  that  this  condition  is 
occasional  or  temporary  ;  it  is,  on  the  other  hand, 
tacitly  assumed  to  be  usual  and  a  matter  of  course. 

Further,  also,  most  prominent  and  characteristic 
examples  of  this  manner  of  regarding  the  future 
were  found  to  be  associated  with  the  terms  ai'ii;-  and 
its  derivatives.  This  word,  originally  apparently 
denoting  a  definite  age,  marked  oif  by  beginning 
and  end,  had  come  to  be  regularly  employed  to 
denote  an  '  age,'  the  beginning  of  wliicli  ivas,  indeed, 
sometimes  more  or  less  obscenely  indiiaied,  but  to 
which  the  Speaker  did  not  as>iun  a  nut  her  limit, 
and,  in  some  instances,  would  clcaily  haM-  rejected 
the  idea  of  a  limit  as  contradictory  untl  impossible. 
The  thought  underlying  these  expressions  is  not 
that  of  a  terminable  period,  but  of  a  limitless  pro- 


790 


IMMORTALITY 


IMMORTALITY 


The  onlj'  adequate  rendering  of  such  a  thought 
in  English  is  by  the  words  'eternal,'  'immortal,' 
or  the  like.  For  there  lies  implicit  in  these  words 
precisely  what  we  have  found  to  be  the  implication 
of  ot'iinos,  etc.,  in  the  Gospels  ;  viz.  that  the  speaker 
rejects  the  idea  of  a  bound  or  limit  beyond  which 
there  is  nothing,  or  nothing  for  the  subject  of  wliom 
he  is  speaking  ;  that  however  far  oft'  the  boundary 
fence  is  in  thought  set  up,  he  immediately  insists 
that  it  shall  be  taken  down,  and  removed  farther 
away, — only  to  repeat  the  process  as  often  as  an 
attempt  is  made  to  assign  a  limit  or  define  an  end. 
This  is,  indeed,  the  only  real  conception  which  we 
seem  able  to  frame  of  the  meaning  and  content  of 
such  terms  as  immortality,  eternity,  etc.,  as  they 
are  ordinarily  employed.  They  connote  not  a 
positive  and  comprehensive  idea,  which  the  mind 
distinctly  outlines  to  itself  as  a  whole,  but  rather 
the  negative  and  indefinite  one  of  the  absence 
of  an  end ;  looking  forth  into  the  future,  we  find 
ourselves  iinable  to  discern  a  point  beyond  which 
there  is  an  absolute  blank  as  far  as  the  conditions 
under  consideration  are  concerned.  The  association 
of  the  thought  of  a  final  end  with  the  conditions  or 
state  supposed  would  involve  a  self-contradiction, 
or,  if  we  prefer  to  use  the  phrase,  would  be  im- 
possible. Such  a  conception  is  entirely  logical  and 
consistent,  and  amounts  iJractically  to  defining  im- 
mortality as  the  summation  of  an  infinite  number 
of  inten'als  or  spaces  of  time,  succeeding  one 
another  without  break,  and  receding  into  dim, 
fathomless  distance. 

The  precise  words  '  endless,'  *  immortal,'  or  '  immortality '  do 
not  occur  in  the  Gospels ;  cf.,  however,  Lk  1^  '  Of  his  kingdom 
there  shall  be  no  end,' oia:  iff-Toti  TSXflf.    The"  "'""""    '' ''- 


and  '  deathlessness '  (1  Co  1553f.).  The  latter  term  is  shown  by 
its  use  in  1  Ti  610  (the  blessed  and  only  Potentate  ...»  ^o.o,- 
ij;a,.  i9«>«co-i«>)  to  have  moved  far  in  the  direction  of  a  positive 
connotation. 

Similar  considerations  apply  generally  to  the 
references  to  this  doctrine  m  the  remaining  books 
of  the  New  Testament,  a  detailed  examination  of 
which  lies  outside  the  range  of  the  present  article. 
Such  an  examination  would  strengthen  in  detail, 
but  would  not  change  the  character  of  the  argu- 
ment. In  no  instance  is  there  a  suggestion  of 
absolute  finality.  Tlie  conclusion  of  every  aiiiv,  for 
example,  marks  the  comniencenuiit  of  another, 
accompanied  by  changed  conditions,  indeed,  but 
not,  as  far  as  the  statements  and  apparent  train  of 
thought  carry  us,  by  annihilation  in  any  sense,  or 
a  destruction  which  involves  loss  of  personal  con- 
sciousness or  life.  And  while  the  ^^rite^s  do  not 
in  so  many  words  define  that  future  into  which 
their  thought  projects  itself  as  '  immortal '  or  '  end- 
less,' their  attitude  towards  it  and  the  phrases  and 
descriptions  which  they  emploj'  are  such  a.s  to 
negative  the  idea  that  they  would  or  could  have 
admitted  of  the  drawing  of  a  line  here,  there,  or 
anywhere,  beyond  which  absolute  oblivion  and 
death  should  reign.  Compare  Ro  \^adjin.  (}22ad/in. 
9»  16-»  TOO  aiuvhv  OfoO,  2  Co  4""'  11=',  PhUem  '=,  He 
18  7»  138,  1  P  o'".  Rev  l". 

(3)  In  passing  to  the  third  part  of  our  inquiry, 
which  relates  to  t/tc  comjirehensiveness  of  the  life 
beijond  the  qrave,  whether  it  is  contemplated  as 
equally  endless  for  all,  or  whether  a  distinction 
is  drawn  as  regards  duration  between  the  after- 
existence  of  thy  cvil-iliier  and  that  iif  the  riiihttous 
man,  we  arc  c'.'!i-' ■■■!,  -  -f  j  rr^ii.-ii:,  i, -.!.,■  in  de- 
scription ami  .:    '       !;,    I   ;   I  .  i;\an- 

gelists,  of  a  .  I .  .  .    i ,    i  -the 

mind  and  tcailmij  i.i  ■  ■  M.i-ii;,  I  i;  ■  i,i--ages 
which  refer  to  the  future  ol  tlie  wicked  arc  com- 
paratively few  in  number ;  and  the  outline,  as  it 
were,  of  the  picture  presented  is  drawn,  not,  indeed, 
waveringly  or  hesitatingly,  but  with  a  light  band, 


as  though  the  subject  were  one  to  wliidi  detail 
or  elaboration  were  inappropriate.  Reticence  and 
breWty  characterize  all  the  utterances  of  Christ 
that  bear  upon  the  share  which  the  evil-doers  have 
in  the  life  after  death.  Thus,  while  the  righteous 
man  and  believer  enters  beyond  the  giave  upon  a 
renewed  life,  to  the  duiation  of  which  no  limit  is 
set,  and  which  theTiearers  of  Christ's  words  under- 
stood in  this  sense  to  be  eternal,  the  question  is 
justly  raised  whether  the  same  statement  may  be 
made,  and  the  same  inference  drawn,  with  re- 
gard to  the  future  existence  of  those  who  are  not 
righteous  and  do  not  believe.  Do  those  who — to 
adopt  the  language  of  the  parable— go  away  into 
the  outer  darkness,  pass  into  oblivion,  suffer  ex- 
tinction, or  experience  any  other  of  the  conjectural 
fates  which  have  from  time  to  time  been  assumed 
to  be  the  lot  of  the  wicked?  or,  as  an  alterna- 
tive, may  '  outer  darkness '  be  paraphrased  into 
'  purgatory,'  on  the  further  side  of  which  there  is 
light? 

It  may  be  said  in  limine  that  the  presumption 
is  against  any  such  limitation  of  the  duration  of 
life  beyond  the  grave  in  the  case  of  one  class  or 
section  only  of  humanity.  It  would  require  very 
strong  eWdence  to  enforce  the  acceptance  of  the 
view  that  terms  or  expressions  ^\hich  disown  the  idea 
of  a  boundaiy,  an  end,  when  used  of  the  future 
state  of  the  righteous,  actually  and  of  set  purpose 
connote  such  an  idea  w'hen  they  describe  the  lot  of 
the  wicked  :  or  that  the  Speaker  would  confuse 
His  audience  with  antitheses  which  were  merely 
verbal,  and  possessed  no  underlying  significance  or 
reality.  Upon  this  issue,  again,  only  an  examina- 
tion and  fair  interpretation  of  the  passages  which 
bear  upon  the  subject  can  decide.  It  will  be  found 
that  such  imssages  in  the  Gospels  are  few  in  num- 
ber, though  not  wanting  in  suggestiveness. 

The  most  significant  and  imjjortant  passage  is 
perhaps  Mk  3^,  to  which  reference  has  already  been 
made ;  and  its  significance  does  not  altogether  de- 
pend upon  the  closing  words,  in  which  the  variation 
of  text  occurs.  Assuming  that  the  reading  aluvlov 
aij.apTriij.aTos  is  correct,  as  we  are  justified  in  doing 
,  it  is  ditficult  to  see  what  other 
ached  to  the  phrase  than  that 
>  <if  which  are  permanent.  An 
■I  111-  permanent  or  endless  in 
it  may  be  ceaselessly  repeated  ; 
mil-  that  it  endures.  And  if 
■  suii'osed  to  describe  'sinful- 
the  meaning  is  practically  the 
same ;  for  endless  sinfulness  necessarily  involves 
endless  retribution.  The  earlier  part  of  the  verse 
has  its  parallels  in  the  two  other  Synoptists— 

Mt  12=-  6s  S'  &v  elirri  Kara  toO  irvev/xaTos  tou  ayiov 
ovK   atpe$-qff€Tai  avT^   qOt€   iv   Toi'Ti^   Ti^  a^wfi  oihe  €v 

T(^    fi4W0VTL. 

Mk  3-^  Ss  S'  5.V  /SXao-^ij/njffj  e/s  rb  TrveO/ia  t6  dyioy 
ouK  ?xf'  Siipeaiv  rij  rbv  alava,  dWd  Ivoxis  iar^v  aiwyiov 
afiapTTj/jaTos. 

Lk  12'°  Tip  Si  ets  rA  07101'  iryeO/ia  ^Xaa^irin-^aavTi  ovk 
d<p€&ricr€Tai. 

The  simplest  form  is  that  of  St.  Luke;  but 
it  is  hardly  less  pregnant  or  decisive  tlian  those 
of  the  other  Evangelists.  The  blasi>hemy  is  per- 
stmal,  the  conscious  and  wilful  act  of  a  conscious 
and  responsible  being ;  and  therefore  —  unless 
the  words  are  to  be  emptied  of  their  force,  and 
reduced  to  meaninglessness  —  the  consequences 
are  personal  also,  falling  not  on  someone  else, 
but  on  the  blasphemer  himself,  for  whom  there 
is  no  place  for  forgiveness  either  in  this  '  age '  or 
in  that  which  is  to  come.  The  reason  is  supplied 
by  St.  Mark,  and  by  St.  Mark  only, — he  '  is  guilty 
of  an  eternal  sin,'  is  liable  to  its  penalty,  and  sub- 
ject to  its  consequences.  The  permanence  of  sin 
implies  and  necessitates  the  |)ermanent  impossi- 


(see  abov 
meaning  can  1 
of  a  sin  the  n 
'act  of  .sill "  ( 
execution,  tlim 
it  is  only  in 
a/xaprrifxaTos  ra 
nes.s '  in  any 


IM]\IORTALITY 


IMMORTALITY 


bility  of  fori;i\-eness.  On  the  central  and  essential 
point  tlio  tin-.-,.  i<<]inits  nrc  at  our. 

Tlio  simiili' Miirr  toi  Ihr  .IcKliiiir  of  immortality 

of  the  ]Kii-:il.l ■  a]...r,,ly|,M>  ..f  Ml  -Vi-"   with  the 

sentence^  |jiiiii(>hiki-iI  i>ii  tin'  ■sIh.h'ji'  and  '  goats ' 
and  the  |)ena]ties  inoiured,  lies  in  the  application 
of  identical  words  and  phrases  to  describe  the 
duration  of  that  future  into  which  both  pass  from 
the  judgment-seat.  If  the  fwj)  of  the  righteous  is 
aiiivtos,  so  is  the  KoXaan  <ii  the  wicked  (v.'^);  the 
flre  into  which  the  hitter  di'part  is  aluiviov  also 
(V.*"),  although  this  wcr.l  is  not  applied  to  the 
Kingdom  prepared  for  tin-  riuhtt-ous  (v.^').  It  is 
surely  an  abuse  of  languaj;e  to  maintain  that  the 
Speaker  designed  to  convey  a  ditlerent  meaning 
in  the  two  instances.  If,  as  «e  have  seen  reason 
to  believe,  the  terra  aiuvws  carried  with  it  the 
thought  of  the  absence  of  an  assii;iicil  or  assiunable 
end  to  that  vista  of  the  future  eonimiplateil  by 
the  Sjieaker,  or,  in  other  words,  was  piaetically 
identical  in  signiticance  with  our  '  inuuurtal,' 
'eternal,'  it  cannot  justly  be  shorn  of  this  con- 
notation when  it  is  applied  to  tlie  '  punishment ' 
which  overtakes  those  on  the  left  hand  of  the 
Judge. 

An  expression  is  found  in  Jn  5-'  which  has  some 
bearing  upon  this  subject.  Its  importance  for  a 
doctrine  of  universal  immortality  must  not  be  over- 
estimated ;  for  the  stress  lies  again  upon  the  paral- 
lelism ;  but  by  implication,  though  not  directly,  it 
appears  to  assert  the  same  equality  of  lot  for  all 
as  regards  the  duration  of  the  revived  existence. 
It  would  not  be  difficult,  indeed,  to  draw  out  at 
length  a  sindlar  proof  for  tlie  words  avaArrrivaL  and 
avaaraaii  to  that  which  has  been  attempted  above 
for  alt!>v  and  aiJivios ;  and  to  show  that  these  ex- 
pressions never,  on  the  lips  of  Christ  and  in  the 
Gospels,  denote  a  resurreittion  which  is  the  prelude 
to  a  new  life  leading  only  to  a  new  deatli.  On  the 
contrary,  dvd<rTa(m  ushers  in  another  period  and 
fresh  conditions  of  existence,  of  which  no  termina- 
tion is  contemplated  or  conceivable.  '  All  that  are 
in  the  tombs  .  .  .  shall  come  forth.'  And  as  the 
'  resurrection  of  life,'  the  portion  of  those  who  have 
done  good,  can  hardly  be  understood  to  indicate  a 
merely  temporary  restoration  or  perpetuation  of 
existence,  so  no  interpretation  of  the  diffi<ult 
phrase  '  resurrection  of  judgment '  will  be  satis- 
factory which  postulates  a  distinction  in  this 
respect  between  the  righteous  and  those  upon 
whom  the  judgment  falls. 

A  similar  argument  uiiglit  not  unfairly  be  based 
upon  the  parable  of  the  liieh  Man  and  1-azarus  (Lk 
le''""-).  or  the  Kiim  and  thi'  Weddine  (iuests  (Mt 
22=-'*),  viz.  that  the  cou.litious,  the  data  of  tlie 
parable,  do  not  in  either  ('ase  suggest,  liut  rather 
by  their  tone  deprecate  the  idea  of  alisolute  annihi- 
lation awaiting  those  who,  on  the  one  hand,  find  no 
place  in  Abraliam's  bosom,  or.  on  tlie  other,  lia\e 
failed  to  fitly  provide  themsehes  with  r.ainieni 
meet  for  the  wedding  feast.  It  would,  ho\M'\('i, 
be  at  the  best  no  more  than  an  'n-'/inii, nhim  f 
silentio,  to  which  no  great  value  conlfl  !«■  .■at.ulied. 
The  declaration  of  Christ  also  to  the  (Sadducees,  as 
reported  in  St.  Luke's  Gospel,  that  'all  live  to 
him'  (Lk  20-'"'),  though  from  one  point  of  view 
.susceptible  of  a  universalistic  interpretation,  does 
seem  on  any  construction  to  exclude  the  idea  that 
there  are  some  who  finally  cease  to  live  in  any  real 
or  intelligible  sense  of  the  word. 
_  'AiroWiivai,,  airoSi'riirKeii',  etc.  It  remains  to  con- 
.sider  briefly  the  significance  and  implication  of  the 
terms  employed  in  the  Gospels  to  denote  'death,' 
'perishing,'  or  'destruction.'  The  principal  of 
these  are  the  verbs  diroX\i5cai  and  ciTrofli'-^trKeii', 
with  the  cognate  nouns  diriiXem  and  Bdvaros. 


empfoved  of  iii 
tlie  activities, 
Lhou!,riit  of  ci  til 

of   Cflris'l 
ittier  is  tlie  1 
adjectivi 


;;;ardeif  nsthe  termination  of 


£, 


ATTiiXeia 


found  only  four  times  in  the  Gospels 

Ml.-    ll-t    if.     iu     flio     'wocfo'    nf    fl.o    ftJ^f 


ment.  For  its  real  purpose,  as  conceived  by  the 
Speaker,  the  ointment  '  perishes,'  is  lost;  but  it  is 
clearly  not  annihilated,  only  diverted  from  its 
proper  use.  In  Mt  7"  the  way  that  leads  ds  rriv 
d?ri6Xeiac,  '  to  destruction,'  is  described  as  broad  ; 
no  indication,  however,  is  given  as  to  the  fate  of 
those  who  traverse  this  way  when  they  reach 
dirciXeia,  and  it  is  fair,  therefore,  to  interpret  the 
phrase  in  the  light  of  the  other  passages  wliere  the 
word  occurs  (in  the  parallel  passage  Lk  IS'--"  no 
mention  is  made  of  the  broad  way).  Jn  17'-  '  not 
one  of  them  is  lost  but  the  son  of  perdition,' 
employs  a  Hebraistic  mode  of  expression.  6  vlbi  t^s 
dirwXeias  is  one  who  shares  the  qualities,  is  like  in 
character  to  dxciXeio,  ci.  vlbv  jc^vp-qs,  Mt  2.3'^ ;  but 
though  he  airuXero,  and  nothing  is  directly  stated 
as  to  his  present  condition  or  future  destiny,  the 
son  of  perdition  is  certainly  not  conceived  as  either 
unconscious  or  extinct,  nor  is  there  any  suggestion 
that  this  is  to  be  his  ultimate  fate. 

In  the  Synoptic  Gospels  iiroeiz-fiaKciv,  like  0v^- 
nKciv,  uniformly  expresses  merely  pliysical  death  as 
the  cessation  of  physical  acti\ities.  Two  passages 
in  St.  Luke,  however,  call  for  .special  notice.  In 
the  parable  referreil  to  above,  liotli  Lazarus  and 
the  rich  man  'die'  {dTroiiavdv,  It)'-'-) ;  liut  their 
conscious  activity  docs  not  teniiiiiate,  il  is  merely 
transferred  to  other  spheres.  .\nd  of  lliestmsof 
God,  the  sons  of  the  resurrection,  it  is  eiii]ili,itically 
.said  ('2(F')  that  recurrence  of  deatli  is  for  them 
impossible.  Death,  therefore,  passes  upon  them 
once,  but  leaves  them  la-dyye\oL,  '  equal  to  angels,' 
in  an  exalted  and  privileged  state,  no  more  subject 
to  its  power.  'Die  word  is  more  common  in  St. 
Joint  CJS  tiniesi,  and  in  accordance  with  the  more 
confcnipKatiM'  .'inil  spiiiliial  character  of  his  Gospel 
is  eniiiloyed  also  nietapliorically,  though  its  pre- 
dominant use  is  litertil  and  iifiysieal.  Thus  the 
grain  of  wheat  falls  into  the  .eiomi.l  .md  dies  (otto- 
eivri,  W*),  but  by  and  throii^li  .leruli  uses  to  a 
newer  and  richer  life,  and  '  bears  mneli  fniit.'  And 
for  the  believer  death  is  but  the  beginning  of  life 
(11-*),  a  life  that  is  permanent  and  exposed  to  no 
return  of  death  (ttSs  6  fie  .  .  .  oi)  /it;  diro^dfj;  els  rbv 
alQva,  v.-% 

Of  the  word  edvaros,  'death,'  a  similar  account 
must  be  given.  It  is  usually  pli>sical  death,  with 
no  reference  to  or  thought  of  that  which  is  beyond. 
By  the  Synoptists  it  is  eniiiloyed  more  or  less 
metaphorically  in  Mt  4'",  Lk  I"' ((|iiotations  from 
Isaiah),  Mt  26^||Mk  14^^.  In  .Mt  -Jd'";  Mk  lO'^ 
iiavaTov  is  for  Christ  Himself  the  prelude  to  life. 
So  in  ..In  S--"  he  that  believefli  .  .  .  'Iiatli  passed 
out  of  death  into  life';  and  later  in  the  same 
Gospel  Christ  declares  that  he  who  keeps  His 
word  shall  not  see  (8=^').  oi'  taste  of  (v.'^-)  death  eh 
Tt,v  aiCfo.  (cf.  11=''). 

Finally,  there  is  the  term  diroXXi^i-ai,  perhaps  the 
most  significant  of  all  the  expressions  that  describe 
dissolution  and  the  cessation  of  a  worldly  estate. 
It  is  apparently  employed  by  the  Sacred  Writers 
with  a  weaker  as  well  as  a  stronger  association. 
The  former  meaning,  to  '  lose,'  to  '  find  to  be  miss- 
ing,' is  illustrated  by  Mt  15^1,  Lk  15«-"-,  Jn  G'^  18» 
and  other  passages.  The  predominant  sense  of  the 
word,  however,  is  that  of  '  ruin,'  the  precise  n.ature 
or  degree  of  which  Avill  be  indicated  by  the  con- 
text; but  which  consists  essentially  in  the  loss  or 


792 


IMMORTALITY 


IMMOETALITY 


witlidiawal  of  capacity  for  the  due  discharge  of 
function  or  duty.  Thus  the  wine-skins  '  perish '  in 
St.  Matthew  (9"),  both  the  wine  and  the  skins  in 
St.  Mark  (2-) ;  but  the  substance  of  both  survives, 
though  thej'  have  become  wasted  and  useless.  So 
also  in  Jn  6^,  where  the  j3pcD<ris  that  'perishes' 
loses  its  nutritive  power,  and  ceases  to  be  able  to 
perform  the  part  of  food.  Applied  to  persons  the 
word  is  equivalent  to  '  ruined,'  '  undone,'  succumb- 
ing to  present  or  prospective  emergency  or  press- 
ure, c.g.Ut  8==  II  Mk  4^8,  Lk  8=* ;  Lk  15i',  Jn  11^.  In 
the  passages  most  pertinent  to  the  present  inquiry 
a  definitely  spiritual  '  ruin '  is  contemplated,  the 
object  of  which  is  usually  the  vf-ioci,  Mt  lO^s-  s'  16^  || 
Mk  8^\  Lk  r-*!"!^;  Lk  6',  Jn  12^ ;  but  the  loss  or  ruin 
of  the  soul  here  is  distinctly  said  to  be  preliminaiy 
to  finding,  saving,  or  (Lk  17^)  quickening  it  (("wo- 
701'eii').  The  idea  conveyed  is  again,  therefore,  not 
annihilation  or  destruction  of  being,  but  change  of 
state.  Here,  also,  the  highest  form  of  teaching  is 
found  in  St.  John.  Every  believer  in  Christ,  or 
the  sheep  who  hear  His  voice,  are  expressly  de- 
clared to  be  permanently  exempt  from  ruin  (3'" 
lO'^) ;  and  while  the  man  who  '  loveth  his  life '  (6 
tpiXuv  rriv  ipvxv''  airrou)  is  the  active  cause  of  its 
ruin  (airoXXvei  avrriv),  he  who  hates  it  in  this  world 
will  keep  it  '  unto  life  eternal '  (12^).  Passages  in 
which  the  word  is  used  of  mere  physical  destruc- 
tion, in  which  usually  no  thought  oif  the  future  is 
involved,  must  be  interpreted  in  accordance  with 
this  general  conception  (Mt  2'^  12"  26^-,  Mk  9'--, 
Lk  17^«;.). 

In  the  passages  referred  to  above,  Mt  1039  and  parallels,  the 
antithesis  or  aTo/;o-v:  or  o  ocT6>.=!rx;  tv,^  "^uxiy  etlrftZ  is  hardly 
to  be  weakened  or  explained  away  ;l3  mere  wiUingness  to  lose. 
There  is  an  attual  Im  incurred  and  completed.  And  the 'ruin' 
consi-t-  ■""  •'-  -r--  •  •  -ff  from  the  ■^'-jx^.  of  all  those  qualities 
and  ■    '  '   .■  bound  it  to  the  present,  and  have 

niadu  ::  I ,  il  and  sensual.    The  essential -.J-y^t*;, 

the  Si  )  ;  ~  i\  L-d  '  by  the  process,  and  enters  upon 

a  nL-u  a-ase  is  practicallv  equivalent  to  St. 

Johns  ::  .  II,      III-'  (Jnl225). 

In  .It  iiiiiiii  nil  til  estimate  the  value  of  these 
indic-aiiiiii-  with  n  -ard  to  the  future  life  of  the 
wickfil.  ti-u  ;inil  ~liglit  as  they  seem  to  be  com- 
pared with  the  fulness  and  frequency  of  the  refer- 
ences to  the  blessed  lot  of  the  righteous,  two 
preliminary  conditions  which  are  essential  to  their 
right  interpretation  need  to  be  borne  in  mind.  In 
the  first  place,  it  was  clearly  far  from  the  intention 
of  the  Teacher  to  lay  dowh  or  elaborate  any  meta- 
physical doctrine  of  a  future  existence,  such  as  we 
might  reasonably  expect  from  formal  .systems  of 
philosophy.  Written  across  His  words  and  actions 
is  their  immediate  and  practical  aim  ;  and  to  ha\'e 
mystified  His  plain  and  unlettered  hearers  with 
definitions  and  metaphysics  would  have  been  to 
repel  them,  and  defeat  His  own  inirpose.  That 
task  He  must  leave  to  successors,  vAm  in  other 
times,  and  with  other  surroundings,  will  enter  into 
His  labours.  To  expect  to  find,  for  example,  in 
the  Gospels  a  well-ordered  and  articulated  defence 
of  natural  immortality,  so  called,  is  unreasonable. 
Any  such  expectation  is  by  the  conditions  of 
the  case  doomed  to  disappointment.  Iliiil^.  pic- 
intimations,  there  will  naturally  be.  iln-  .luciiia 
tion  and  development  of  which  will  In-  tin-  (.ue 
of  after  age.s ;  but  completeness,  finaliiy.  from  a 
logical  or  philosopliic  point  of  view,  will  not  be 
foimd  ;  nor  a  series  of  statements  which,  however 
fitted  they  might  l;e  to  meet  the  requirements  of 
some  one  or  other  of  the  later  centuries,  were  out 
of  touch  with  the  thought  of  His  own  day  and 
generation. 

Again,  the  reticence  observed  as  to  the  fate  of 
the  wicked,  and  the  comparative  infrequeney  of 
mention  thereof,  are  entirely  in  harmony  with 
what  is  found  to  be  the  case  in  the  early  litera- 
tures of  the  other  great  religions  of  the  world.    To 


expatiate  on  a  destiny  of  woe  and  pain,  or  upon 
the  duration  of  the  sufferings  of  the  lost,  is,  judg- 
ing from  all  analogy,  evidence  not  of  an  early  but 
of  a  late  position  in  the  history  of  religious 
thought ;  and  were  this  a  marked  feature  of  the 
Gospels,  it  would  justly  have  laid  them  open  to 
the  suspicion  of  having  at  least  undergone  modi- 
fication in  the  interests  of  hiter  and  more  devel- 
oped forms  of  belief.  The  hymns  of  the  Kig-Veda, 
for  example,  dwell  much  upon  the  blessed  estate  of 
the  good  who  do  that  which  is  acceptable  to  the 
gods,  and  accordingly  go  hereafter  to  dwell  with 
them ;  but  they  contain  only  slight  and  passing 
references  to  the  lot  of  the  evil-doers,  who  are 
hurled  by  Indra  into  darkness.  The  Egyptian 
Book  of  the  Dead  relates  the  varj'ing  trials  and 
fortunes  of  tlie  deceased  in  the  nether  world, 
through  which  he  passes  successfuUj'  by  the  aid  of 
talismanie  formulie  and  the  favour  of  the  gods ; 
but  complete  silence  is  observed  with  regard  to  the 
man  who  at  the  bar  of  Osiris  fails  to  pass  the 
prescribed  tests.  And  it  is  characteristic  also 
not  of  primitive  but  of  mature,  if  not  decadent. 
Buddhism  to  set  forth  in  vivid  description  and 
\vith  luxuriant  art  the  series  of  hells  in  which 
carefully  graduated  torments  on  an  a.scending 
scale  of  horror  are  apportioned  with  precision  to 
the  heinousness  of  the  sinner's  crimes.  It  was  not 
otherwise  in  early  Christianity.  There,  too,  it  was 
left  to  later  a"es  to  elaborate  descriptions  and  to 
revel  in  details  of  a  future  life,  the  real  cii-cum- 
stances  of  which  neither  human  language  is  capable 
of  defining  nor  human  thought,  tied  down  as  it  is 
to  categories  belonging  essentially  to  present  con 
ditions,  able  to  conceive.  The  comparative  silence 
of  the  earliest  authoritative  documents,  and  of  the 
earliest  teaching  so  far  as  it  has  eonie  do^vn  to  us, 
is  more  eloquent  and  convincing  than  the  most 
exhaustive  and  graphic  statement  of  doctrine  coiUd 
ever  have  been. 

Mohammedanism,  it  may  be  said,  is  an  exception  to  this  rule, 

and  from  the  very  be^^niiin^'  lavishes  its  descriptive  powers  on 

e    unbeliever.      Islam,  however, 

■oni  the  mind  of  its  founder,  and 

II.    Its  doctrines  have  already  a 

liind  them,  and,  if  we  could  trace 

It,  would  probably  be  found  in  all 

■\  ailing  tj-pe  of  historic  growth. 

The  results  to  whicli  we  have  been  led  may  be 

briefly  summarized  as  follows  :  — 

(1)  The  reality  of  a  conscious 
grave  is  uniformly  assumed  and 
Himself  and  by  tlif  writers  uf  tin 

(2)  To  this  futi.iv  lifi.  til. If  .- 
minus  or  end.  Kailn'i-  ilu  tin'  |ilii 
that   the   thnu<_'ht   ..f  ,-,    Ihial  .mi. 


life  beyond  the 
taught  by  Christ 
Gospels. 

a-signed  no  ter- 
n-irs  used  suggest 
never  presented 
itself  to  Speaker  or  writer  as  either  actual  or 
possible.  And  where  words  like  WXos,  iaxdrv 
T)lUpa,  etc.,  are  employed,  the  'end'  or  '  last  day ' 
is  obviously  and  patently  not  absolute,  but  marks 
and  introduces  a  new  beginning.  No  philosophical 
theory  of  immortality  is  formulated ;  such  a  theory 
is  not  to  be  expected,  and  was,  indeed,  under  the 
circumstances  hardly  ])Ossible.  The  doctrine  of 
the  Gospels,  however,  of  a  renewed  life  after  death 
to  which  no  limit  is  set,  and  for  which  by  virtue  of 
the  very  terms  employed  no  limit  appears  to  be 
conceivable,  is  in  the  last  analysis  all  that  we 
mean,  or  can  mean,  by  'eternitj','  'immortality.' 

(.3)  The  writers  give  no  countenance  whatever  to 
any  theory  which  in  respect  of  its  duration  separates 
the  lot  of  the  righteous  from  that  of  tlie  wicked. 
Slight  and  indefinite,  overlaid  with  metaphor  and 
liarable,  as  are  the  indications  of  the  conditions 
under  which  the  future  life  of  the  latter  will 
be  lived,  the  guarded  statem.-iits  mti.l.'  and  the 
hints  allowed  to  fall  consi-t.-ntly  iiiiply  that  in 
tliis  respect  equ.ality  of  tretitnnni  i^  iint.'il  out  to 
all.     If  the  fw^  of  tiie  one  is  ai'.:Tiij!,  ami  lie  is  not 


IMPEDIMENT 


IMPOTENCE 


(93 


to  die  ei's  rbv  aluva,  tlie  KoXaais  of  the  other  is 
oiiicios  likewise,  and  he  is  or  iii.iy  l.i-  ijuiliy  of  ;i 
a/jidpTTina,  tlie  fruits  of  \\liirli  an-  ;j;i  i  li.-i  cd  in  no 
less  a  period  of  time  (Imn  i-  .Ir-ci  ilt.-.l  \i\  tlio 
same  phrase.  Theories  of  uiii\  ii-:ii  ri-si(iralioii_,  of 
linal  extinction,  or  of  any  modilication  or  combina- 
tion of  these  find  no  support  in  the  words  of  Christ 
or  of  His  disciples  as  recorded  in  the  Gospels. 

The  present  writer  shares  the  convictions  which 
have  been  very  widely  felt  and  expressed,  that  the 
linal  demonstration  of  imniortality,  if  and  when  it 
is  given,  will  have  to  be  based  on  broader  than  any 
merely  literal  or  narrowly  expository  grounds. 
Christ  spoke  to  His  own  age ;  and  necessarily 
spoke  such  truths  and  in  sucli  a  form  as  that  age 
could  receive  and  assimilate.     Tliat  Hf  rxliniisti'il 

the   whole   range   of   trnlli    in    Hi-    slali' nl.   or 

formulated  both  in  slia|»'  anJ  hnl^staino  all  doc- 
trine that  the  mind  of  man  (-(nil.l  i-\  ci  apiavc  ialo, 
is  as  impossible  to  believe  as  it  is  contrary  to 
His  own  express  words  (Jn  16'-).  Nor  can  we  doubt 
that  if  He  had  lived  in  our  day,  He  would  have 
delivered  truths  expanded  and  recast  to  meet  the 
needs  and  tendencies  and  caiiacitii-s  with  which 
He  found  Himself   l.l.m;;ll|.  int.,   touell. 

That  the  Christian  Cliuivli  ha-  been  on  the 
whole  on  right  lines,  and  li.-is  lieeu  justilicd  gener- 
ally in  her  interpretation  of  the  teacliing  of  her 
Founder  and  His  immediate  disciples  witli  respect 
to  this  particular  doctrine,  the  foregoing  exposition 
has  attempted  to  show.  The  end,  however,  is  not 
yet.  And  the  ferment  of  thought,  not  less,  perhaps 
more,  characteristic  of  our  age  than  of  any  that 
have  preceded  it,  is  not  destined  to  be  stilled  into 
unconcern,  or  to  have  its  ellorts  paralyzed,  by  any 
dogmatic  creed  or  inonouneement  of  whatever 
authority.  It  claims  tlie  li-jlil  (o  work  out  its 
own  doctrinal  freedom  not  only  in  the  light  of  the 
Sacred  Records,  but  under  the  guiilance  of  that 
reason  which  it  holds  no  less  certainly  than  reve- 
lation to  be  an  element  and  gift  of  the  Divine. 

Literature.— Tlic  treatises  on  NT  Theology,  or  Theology  in 
general,  and  the  History  of  Doctrine  contain  little  that  i.s 
relevant.  See  the  article  on  '  Eschatology'  by  S.  D.  F.  Salmond 
in  Hastings'  DB,  vol.  i.  ii.  749  ff.,  and  the  literature  there  cited. 
Add  W.  N.  Clarke.  Oid/ine  of  Christian  Theology,  Edinburgli, 
1898,  p.  192  ff.  ;  William  James,  Humflll  Immortality^,  London, 
1903  ;  J.  Royce,  Conception  of  Imnuirtttlity ,  London,  1904. 

A.  S.  Geden. 
IMPEDIMENT.-See  Disease. 

IMPORTUNITY.— The  only  passage  in  the  EV 
where  this  word  is  found  is  Lk  11'  'Because  of 
Ills  importunity 


as  he  needeth, 


This 


EiillliJi  llat.  gives 
tinacity  in  solicita- 
1  has  this  meaning, 
r  suyttes.'  In  the 
e  (1535)  uses  the  cog- 


many 

Tinttale  (1526).  Wyclifdlis 
axynge.'  fiood  modern  ti 
sistency'  CWeymouth),  '  p" 
Century  NT).  Murray's  .\-, 
the  definition  '  tronblesome 
tion';  asearlvas  lllilMlle^\ 
'Through  ymporlnnile  oil'  t 
companion  pamlile,  Coverda 

nate  adjective,  Lk  IS-''  '  yet  seynge  this  weddow 
is  so  importune  vpon  me,  I  will  delyuer  her.'  The 
original  meaning  of  '  importune '  was  '  inoppor- 
tune,' 'untimely';  in  Sir  32'  'display  not  thy 
wisdom  out  of  .season,'  Coverdale  has  '  at  an  im- 
portunyte.'  Intermediate  stages  in  the  growth  of 
the  later  signification  of  the  word  from  this  root 
idea  are  marked  by  the  now  obsolete  meanings 
'  troublesome  '  and  '  urgent. ' 

'Importunity'  (Lk  11")  is  the  translation  of  the 
Gr.  avalSeia,  which  signifies  'the  absence  of  aiSws,' 
'shamelessness.'  In  I'.ilili.-al  ( Ireek  it  oec-ins  only 
in  Sir  25=^  ami  is  rendered  ■  ini|ind,-n,-.-.'  Tin- 
Lat.  import  II  III  till,  -unliine--,'  i-  lonnd  \\\{\i  Hi.' 
stronger  meaning  ■  insol.n.i- '  (('i.-.  ./■   Sni.  iii.  7). 


and  is   therefore  a  more   accurate   translation  of 

'."1 '    I  ban   its   English   equivalent.       Uut   per- 

i  leiii  :i  king  soon  becomes  iiis.ik-nl  asking.  The 
"■-id  -niiiains,  as  Trapp  says,  'a,  metaiihor  from 
l"-,u.j.-ii -,  that  will  not  be  sai.l  ^ia}-,  but  .are  im- 
pudently importunate'  (Com.  in  loc).  Cowper 
uses  the  word  (Task,  iv.  414)  in  an  instructive  con- 
text : 

'  Knaves  .  .  .  liberal  of  their  aid 
To  clam'rous  importunity  in  rags.' 

To  bring  out  the  striking  contrast  which  our 
Lord's  parable  suggests,  it  is  necessary  to  show 
that  ]iprsistencp  in  asking  becomes  those  who 
know  that  inayi-r  is  never  trouble.some  to  God, 
and  ne\.-r  ..nl  ..I'  season.  He  who  'will  not  be 
sai.l  >iay.'  .-in.!  In-  alone,  has  learnt  the  secret  of 
)ir.-\ailin-_:  |.ra\.-r.  Wright  not&s  [Synopsis  of  the 
r;.,/../.  .,.  (,,-../.,  p.  243)  that  St.  Luke  'three 
liiii.-s  u-.s  l.a.l  men  to  represent  God,  or  to  be 
.-\.-iiii|d.  -  to  Us:  (1)  here,  (2)  the  unjust  steward, 
\.i)  the  uiijiist  judge.'  J.  G.  TaSKER. 

IMPOSSIBILITY — The  modern  mind  flatters 
itself  upon  its  frank  recognition  of  impossibility 
in  the  world  of  nature.  There  is  also  an  impotence 
of  faitli  \\hich  is  content  to  allow  impossibility  in 
the  sphere  of  grace.  Both  these  tendencies  to  a 
lazj'  .-iciuh'scence  in  a  fancied  inevitable  are  out 
of  touch  with  111.-  u..s|..-l  ..I  Cluisl.  There  is,  of 
conrs.'.  su.-li  i-ss.-ntial  ini|ios,-,il.ility  as  that  of  a 
good  In-.-  iH-ainej  l.;t.l  liiiil  |Mi  7'").  And  there 
is  till-  |iracti.-,-d  iiM|i..s>il,ilii  V  ..f  a,  hou.se  divided 
against  ii-,-li  .-,-.-i|,ing  ruin  (.Mk  3--'').  But  the 
raii.u.-  .d  iiii|i..--iliilily  in  tin-  worl.l  of  nature  and 
in  till- s|di.-r.-  .d  L^ra.-e  is  nair.iwe.l  to  evanescence 
by  the  taitli  of  the  Cluistiau  dLsuiple.  A  mustard- 
seed  of  faith  will  remove  a  mountain  (Mt  17*). 
God  is  able  to  save  to  the  uttermost  (Lk  18^'), 
though  it  seems  like  the  passage  of  a  camel  through 
a  needle's  eye  for  a  rich  man  to  enter  the  Kingdom 
of  heaven  (Mt  19-^  Mk  lO'-^).  It  is  through  Christ, 
the  Son  of  God  become  the  Son  of  Man,  that  all  is 
possible  .and  nothing  impossible  (.In  15-',  Mk  9-^). 
He  llims.df  sh.iwed  it  in  the  snpn-m.-  triumph  of 
the  l;.--nrn-.-(ion,  wli.-ntli.-  tomb  lia.l  In-, -n  sealed 
so  thai  .-.-a|„-  iiii-.;li(  1.,-  ini|H.-iMi-  (Alt  L'7"").  The 
comni.-.n.l  ov.r  ii.-itnie  ilis|,l,-iye.l  in  the  stilling  of 
the  storm  (Mk  4^'-')  and  in  the  healing  of  the 
woman  with  the  issue  of  blood  (Mt  9=',  Mk  5^) 
is  at  the  service  of  faith  and  prayer.  The  poor 
leper  lost  his  despair  in  faith,  and  was  re- 
warded (Lk  5'-).  The  blinil  rel•ei^•ed  sight,  because 
through  their  faith  Imman  ini|.o-siliility  was  swal- 
lowed up  by  Divine  oinui|i..t.-n.-.-  (,\lt  9'-").  Infinite 
resources.  "acknowle.l,L-iue  no  bounds  of  impo.ssi- 
liililv.  an-  wilhin  i.-.-i.h  of  the  earnest  childlike 
laiih  ilii-  Lord  apinov,--  (.MklF',  Lk  17").  Such 
blight  an. I  uiilifliii'j  l.---.ins  are  remote  from  the 
t;luumy  an.l  .|.-pr.--iii-j  pnd.lem  of  evil.  There  is, 
indeed,  an  un.lcniii  n-ni  .a  iinpossibility  in  the 
stream  of  tlii-- \\oi  1.1  .l.-\  .i.iiiiii.-nl .  -liisimpos- 
sible  but  th,-u  ... .  a.-i.-n-  .-i  -i  iinil.lin-4  should  come' 
(Lk  17').  But  tins  specie,  ul  imp.issibility  we  are 
not  to  dwell  upon  too  lung.  '  The  redemption 
draws  nigh'  (Lk  21-'). 


W.  B.  Fkankland. 
IMPOTENCE.— The  single  instance  of  our  Lord's 
miracles  specifically  classified  under  this  head  is 
recorded  in  Jn  5='","where  the  sufl'erer  is  described 
as  6  a.adci'Cii'  (.-VV  'the  im)).)tent  man,'  RV  'the 
si.-k  man').      Tlie   fc-itnr.-s  .if  tin-  .-.-1-.-  ar.-  its  long 


r94 


IMPOTENCE 


Bethesda  (\vh.  see).  Of  the  nature  of  the  ailment 
we  have  no  evidence.  Ii  h;i-  Iweii  Ihou.uhl  tu  lir 
palsy,  but  Bennett  (/'/>■  ""  -  nf  il,,-  I'.ihl,  )  cuii^iUci- 
this  doubtful. _  The  lon.u  .luiaii.,H  ..i  \hv  .liMM..'  i- 
against  its  being  identilied  with  hii-iiiiiutor  ittK.rui. 
It  may  have  been  some  chronic  wasting  disease 
having  its  origin  in  an  enfeeble<l  or  disorganized 
nervous  system. 

The  chief  feature  of  the  healing  is  the  fact  tliat 
Jesus  begins  the  process  of  restoration  by  dealing 
with  the  hopeless  condition  induced  and  estab- 
lished by  thirty-eight  years  of  suftering,  and  by 
the  repeated   dashing   to   the  ground  of  .slowly- 


Qg  liopes. 


Wouldest  thou  be  made  whole  : 


our  Lord  asked,  appealing  to  the  last  flicker  of 
expectation  evinced  by  his  remaining  still  at  the 
healing  pool,  and  calling  it  out  into  new  vigour 
and  consciousness. 

Another  significant  feature  is  the  apparent  as- 
sociation in  the  mind  of  Jesus  of  this  infirmity 
with  sin,  either  the  sin  of  the  sufferer  or  the  .sin- 
fulness of  the  race  (Jn  5").  A  similar  association 
is  found  in  the  case  recorded  in  Mt  9'"',  Alk  2'"'-, 
Lk  5""-''  (see  art.  Parai,y.sis).  It  ciuinot  be 
definitely  asserted  that  Jesus  m.ul;ril  |,riM,ii:il  sin 
as  the  root-cause  of  disease  in  thr-r  r,i~.-,  ihuugh 
tlie  inference  is  not  altogether  uuw  i miiI  nl  from 
the  narratives.  But  it  is  at  h.-ast  i-\  i'l'Mit  i  hut  our 
Lord  did  habitually  recognize  the  close  connexion 
between  personal  and  racial  sinfulness  and  all 
manner  of  disease  and  sickness.  While  carefully 
guarding  Himself  from  attrilmtin'^-  :ill  sickness  and 
weakness  to  sin  (.In  !)'  i,  lli'  y..|  ,1..,  bn  ,.,1  the 
essential  allianr.'  dt  -in  wiih  ,h11  kimU  ..i  Imdily 
disorder.  'Sin^oi  thu  llr-,h.'  .'is  funniiuiily  under- 
stood, are  notoriously  icspoii^iljlc  fur  nuuiy  of  man- 
kind's worst  diseases  and  infirmities ;  and  the 
Apostolic  catalogue  of  these  sins  includes  not  only 
adultery,  uncleanness,  murder,  drunkenness,  and 
revellings,  but  also  liatred,  variance,  wratli,  strife, 
envyings,  and  covetousness  (Gal  .">"'"-',  Col  :V',  Eph 
5^).  Our  Lord's  list  of  sins  tliat  defile  and  destroy 
the  body  begins  with  '  evil  thouglits '  ami  ends 
with  moral  stupidity  or  foolishne.ss  (Mk  7~,  a.fj>(io- 

Another  case  which  must  probably  be  included 
here  is  that  of  the  woman  with  a  spirit  of  in- 
firmity (Lk  13"-").  The  features  here  are  tlie 
Evangelist's  description  of  the  ailment  as  irpevfia 
^xovfru.  aadevela^,  the  lengthened  prevalence  of  the 
trouble  (for  eighteen  years),  and  the  completeness 
of  the  inability  to  raise  herself.  Tlie  description  is 
evidently  from  a  competent  hand.  The  woman  was 
bowed  and  crouched  together  (^j-  avyKviTToma),  and 
was  in  no  wise  able  to  lift  herself  up.  The  in- 
ability was  ei's  Tb  TTavTcKh  (cf.  He  7^,  where  the 
ability  of  the  ever-living  Christ  to  .save  mankind 
is  also  €is  TO  iravTeXis).  The  infirmity,  however, 
did  not  debar  the  suflerer  from  attending  the 
synagogue.  The  ailment  may  have  been  surgical 
— a  gradual  distortion  and  permanent  bending,  in- 
creased b}-ol(l  age,  of  the  spin.al  column,  >u(li  as  in 


ni'iM-lrs  and    !il: ii-   ,.\    ili.^    IkpI.    i,.,    ^^  !,,.■!,   the 

trunk  is  helif  erect,  so  that  tlie  body  falls  forward 
without  any  disease  of  brain  or  cord  or  mental  im- 
pairment.' But  it  may  not  improperly  be  rather 
classified  as  due  at  least  in  part  to  some  morbid 
mental  condition  such  as  hysteria.  This  seems  to 
be  indicated  not  obscurely  by  the  description  given, 
as  a  spirit  of  infirmity. 


have  been  a  reflexion  of  in 

i.ii  all  hodilv  (ie- 

formity  wasduetodenioni.    ,. 

■      i.sethe  descrip. 

tionisdueto  the  Evangeli.sl  i..Li:Li 

I..U1  .u  .)csus.     But  most 

probably  it  indicates  our  Lord's  view  of  the  infirmity  as  beinjf 
part  of  that  widespread  calamity  and  curse  that  lies  upon  the 
wliole  race,  of  which  comple.\  coil  Satan  is  the  ! 


Tlie  features  of  the  healing  are  :  (1)  The  Divine 
coiiipa>-ioii  r\|irL'ssed  in  our  Lord's  laying  His 
hand  n|inii  Hi.-  woman  as  He  spoke  the  word  of 
lio}"-  ami  driniiaiice  ;  (2)  His  profound  sense  that 
tills  ^nlli  ring  and  weakness,  this  crouching  spirit, 
were  completely  foreign  to  the  wUl  of  God  (v.'«)  ; 
and  (3)  His  stedfast  refusal  to  allow  any  pedantic 
Sabbath  rules  to  stand  in  the  way  of  His  relief  of 
suftering  humanity.  Tlie  last  fact  is  dominant  in 
the  whole  narrative,  and  consequently  the  other 
features  and  the  healing  are  only  casually  re- 
ported. T.  H.  Wright. 

IN  (^i-,  ei's,  /card,  iirl,  vp6t,  Sid,  Iffu). — The  word  is 
prevailinj/ly  used  in  its  primary  meaning  of  posi- 
tion in  place,  but  it  frequently  follows  the  Greek 
4v  in  its  more  or  less  figurative  ramifications  of 
meaning.  It  is  also  employed  more  or  less  accu- 
rately to  translate  various  other  prepositions  which 
convey  a  slightly  ditt'erent  nuance  of  significance. 
In  the  piesent  article  we  shall  follow  the  rendering 
of  the  IIV,  where  the  use  of  the  prepositions  is 
more  consistent  and  precise,  as  well  as  more  con- 
formed to  the  modern  usage,  than  in  the  AV. 
(For  illustration  of  the  wider  use  of  '  in '  common 
in  the  Elizabethan  period,  cf.  Hastings'  DB, 
art.  'In'). 

1.  As  translation  of  iv,  the  word  indicates  : 

i.  Local  relations:  (a)  'in,'  'at,'  or  'on,'  of 
simple  locality  (Mt  2'  'in  Bethlehem,'  2'1*'  '  in  the 
field,'  Jn  4-»  '  in  this  mountain ') ;  (b)  that  with 
which  one  is  covered  or  clothed  (Mk  12^  '  walk  in 
long  robes,'  Mt  7'^  'in  sheep's  clothing,'  11-'  're- 
pented in  sackcloth  and  ashes,'  Jn  20'-  '  two  angels 
m  white') ;  (c)  direct  cohesion  (15''  'except  it  abide 
in  the  vine');  (d)  position  in  a  writing  or  book 
(Mt  21^-  'in  the  scriptures,'  Mk  1-  'in  Isaiah,'  Lk 
20-'-  '  in  the  book  of  Psalms'). 

2.  Temporal  relations— the  point  or  space  of 
time  when,  or  within  which,  anything  occurs  (Mt 
22^  '  in  the  resurrection,'  10'°  etc.  '  in  the  day 
of  judgment' — the  AV  has  also  'at  the  day  of 
judgment,'  Lk  9*"  '  in  those  days,'  Jn  2"  'in  tliree 
days  1  will  rai-r  it  ii|il. 

3.  Fli/iii.f/irr  ./,/.//,-,■.-.»((;  relations  : 

("I  liiiliratiii;^  a  ;/',."/(:  (a)  conceived  as  the 
sphere  when-  a  i.nlain  .quality  or  state  of  mind  is 
found  (Mt  6=^  'the  Ii"ht  that  is  in  thee,'  Mk  9=» 
'  have  salt  in  yourselves,'  and  similarly  Mt  21''^ 
'  marvellou.s  in  our  eyes,'  5^  '  committed  adultery 
in  his  heart,'  Mk  11=^  '  doubt  in  hLs  heart ') ;  or  (/3)  in 
reference  to  whom  another  stands  in  a  certain 
attitude  (Mt  3"  'in  whom  I  am  well  pleased,'  U'' 
'  whosoever  shall  not  be  offended  in  me '). 

(4)  Of  the  state  or  roniHf,,,,,.  manner  or  circum- 
stance, range  or  sphm-  in  n-Ziirh  n  person  is  or 
acts:  (o)  sfiate  or  conditiun  (Mt  4'"  'the  people 
which  sat  in  darkness.'  l,k  I"  .serve  him  in  holi- 
ness and  righteousness,"  Jn  4--  worship  in  spirit 
and  truth,'  Mt  21--  'ask  in  prayer');  (/3)  manner 
(13^  'in  jiarables');  (y)  occasion  (22'°  'ensnare 
him  in  talk,'  Lk  23"  'if  they  do  this  in  the  green 
tree,'  24«  'in  the  breaking  of  bya.D  ;  (3)  sur- 
rounding accompaniment  (Ml  ii-'  '  Solomon  in  all 
his  glory,'  16^ 'coming  in  hi-  kingdom,'  fG-'^'in 
the  glory  of  his  Father') ;  (fl  r.an,i;r  or  sphere  (Jn 
8-'  '  die  in  your  sins,'  Mk  1'° '  believe  in  the  gospel ' 
will  also  belong  to  this  head,  unless  we  admit  that 
this  is  an  exceptional  use  of  Tn<rTcvu  with  if.  The 
LXX  almost  invariably  construes  the  verb  with 
the  dative,  the  NT  writers  M-itli  ei's  or  irl.  Pro- 
balily  therefore  the  verb  is  used  here  absolutely, 
and  fV  Tu  ci'avyeXiV  marks  the  sphere  within  which 
faith  is  to  be  exerci.sed.     The  only  other  in.stance 


IN 


795 


of  iTio-rrfw  followed  by  iv  in  the  NT  is  Jn  3'^  which 
the  RV  translates  •  that  whosoever  believeth  nmy 
ill  him  have  eternal  life ').  For  iv  with  Svo/ia  see 
below. 

(c)  Of  the  means  or  instrument,  or  personal 
agency  employed,  where  a  simple  dative  niijiht 
have  been  used  instead  of  iv  (Mt  3"  '  I  baptize 
you  with  [RVm  '  in']  water' ;  cf.  Lk  3"',  where  tlie 
simple  dative  is  used  ;  Mk  9^^  '  By  [RViii  ■  In  'J  Ihr 
prince  of  the  devils  casteth  he  out  devils';  in 
other  cases  'with'  is  used  as  translation,  as  I,k 
22^"  'shall  we  smite  with  (ev)  the  sword  V '). 

{d)  Oi  persons  inherently  joiiu'd  fnid  (■(,,/».,/,(/, 
where  the  completest  intimacy  (  Mnr.'i\  ,il.l.'  i^  ex 
pressed;  employed  with  noticcal'li'  lrc'i|iHiuy  in 
the  writings  of  St.  Paul  and  the  Im.uhIi  (h.,,),,!,  lo 
mark  the  close  fellowship  between  Llie  Lliii,-,tnin 
and  Christ  (iv  X/Jio-ry  'It/o-oO,  ^i-  Kvpiiji,  iv  Xpurru,  Ru 

gl  16"  125  167.  ^y^^^  i^  (^„l^  J,i  (i5(i  154.5;  of.  1  Jn 
25.  6.  24.  27.  28    ^^    ai)T£fJ    (XvaL,   (V    tC}    I'tw,    iv    aVTi^    /jL^veLv), 

between  the  Christian  or  Christ  and  tlocl  (eV  deiji, 
iv  T<?  ■Ko.Tfl,  .1  Th  1>,  Col  3»,  Jn  ;?^>  lO''"  14-"),  or  be- 
tween the  Christian  and  the  Sjiirit  {iv  ■Kvtvp.a.ri. 
elvai,  Ro  8^  1  Co  12'^ ;  cf.  Mt  1i^,  Lk  2-').  'I'he 
very  repetition  of  such  unusual  expressions  indi- 
cates that  the  thouf^lit  was  a  favourite  one  in 
Pauline  and  Jolnxnnine  tlieoloL;y.  For  the  deter- 
mination of  tlie  meaning,  special  weight  should  be 
attached  to  the  fact  that  complementary  expres- 
sions are  used  repeatedly — Xpi-arbs  iv  rivi,  irvcufia  iv 
nvi,  vaTijp  iv  rm  (Ro  8»  »",  2  Co  13^  Gal  2^",  Jn 
1038  1420  154.5  i72i-23)_  The  employment  of  these 
parallel  expressions  points  to  a  relation  of  the 
most  intimate  communion  ;  and  the  only  question 
is  how  this  spiritual  communion  is  to  be  con- 
ceived. Deissmann,  who  has  carefully  sifted  the 
material  relating  to  the  phrase  iv  Xpiar^,  insists 
that  the  translation  'in  fellowship  with  Christ' 
does  not  quite  adequately  convey  tlie  concrete 
thought  of  St.  Paul.  He  favours  the  view  that 
the  iv  here  retains  its  literal  and  local  significance  ; 
the  Christian  lives  in  the  element  Christ,  some- 
what in  the  same  way  as  animals  live  in  the  air, 
or  fishes  in  the  water,  or  the  roots  of  plants  in  the 
earth.  He  notices  the  parallel  use  of  ev  Xpitrrij!  and 
Xptarbs  iv  tivi  with  iv  TTvevpLan  and  irvevixa  iv  rivi,  and 
argues  that  as  the  last  phrase  would  be  naturally 
understood  in  the  most  literal  local  sensi-,  of  one 
within  whom  the  invisible  powers  of  lln'  Spiril 
resided,  so  in  the  phrases  relative  to  Cluist,  Ihr 
living  pneumatic  Christ  of  faith,  the  same  local 
reference  is  implied.  Or,  again,  the  phrase  iv  flfu 
(1  Th  l\  Col  3»,  Ac  17="  In  him  we  live  and  move 
and  have  our  being')  expresses  the  tliought  that 
God  is  the  element  in  which  we  live,  implying  the 
local  conception  of  a  Divine  irfpixiipT/iris.  From 
such  analogies  Deissmann  is  inclined  to  accept  the 
most  literal  and  local  interpretation  of  St.  Paul's 
favourite  phrase  ;  and  he  believes  that  if  we  keep 
in  mind  the  equation  Xp(ffT6s  =  TrceO/xa,  Christ  the 
everliving  Divine  Spirit,  the  conception  of  real 
locality  will  not  appear  improbable.  This  inter- 
pretation certainly  presses  the  literal  meaning  of 
iv  too  far ;  it  tends  to  dissolve  St.  Paul's  mystic 
idea  of  union  into  a  semi-physical  relation,  and  so 
to  destroy  the  moral  and  spiritual  basis  of  faith. 
The  spiritual  presence  of  Christ  is  indi-ed  pirfiin-d 
as  a  local  nearness  of  idalion  ;  \i-\  SI.  Paul  else- 
where clearly  distin.uuishe^  l.eiwV.ii  (lie  spiritual 
nearness  of  presenl  iVIIowship  «itli  ('liiist  and  the 
future  local  fellowship  with  {<tvv  or  irpis)  t^hrist  in 
the  life  to  come  (1  Tli  4",  l>h  1-',  2  Co  5**).  Even 
while  'absent  from  the  J>ord,'  St.  Paul  is  iv  Xpi<r7-^, 
i.e.  in  spiritual  but  not  local  union.  Tlie  implied 
iv  del}  in  Ac  17^  '  In  him  we  live  and  move  and 
have  our  being,'  is  scarcely  adducible  as  an  analogy, 
since  it  refers  rather  to  the  natural  basis  of  exis't- 
ence  than  to  the  spiritual  ground,     Tlie  Joliannine 


phrases  already  cited  (iiiveiv  iv  ifiol ;  iyu  iv  rep 
TfnLTpi  fiov,  Kai  ii|Ueis  iv  i/xoi,  Kayu  iv  ii/iiv)  contain 
substantially  the  same  thought  as  the  Pauline  iv 
XpitTTcp ;  and  in  these,  in  spite  of  the  local  figure 
employed,  the  idea  is  clearly  not  that  of  local 
inherence,  but  of  spiritual  inherence  or  com- 
munion. The  mystic  realism  of  the  Pauline  and 
.lohannine  phrases  is  rather  to  be  found  in  the  fact 
that  they  ajiproach  the  thought  of  a,  real  identifi- 
niiniii  with  I  he  Logos  or  the  pneumatic  Christ. 
Tlie  lite  I  )i\  ill,,  incorporates  it.self  in  the  Christian  ; 
the  Spirit  of  Cliiist  or  of  God  takes  the  place  of 
(he  hniiiaii  spiiii .  and  is  individualized  in  the  life  of 
l.elic\ CIS.  This  i.lcaijf  essential  spirityial (jnystica, 
Injiin^i,!! nil)  union  alone  does  justice  to  those 
passa.ucs  u  heic  I  he  union  of  believers  with  Christ, 
and  even  with  one  another,  finds  suhlimest  ex- 
luession  (Jn  17-'-",  1  Co  6"  12'=).  But  while  this 
thought  of  vital  union  is  the  central  and  original 
conception  of  the  phrase  used  by  St.  Paul,  the 
context  often  indicates  some  variety  in  the  shades 
of  meaning.  Thus  Ro  14"  '  I  am  persu.aded  in  the 
Lord  Jesus,'  i.e.  in  virtue  of  that  fc/luivship  ; 
Ph  •I--'  'Receive  liiiii  in  tlie  Lord,'  i.e.  iii  the  spirit 
of  such  fellowship  ;  it  is  often  used  as  a  favourite 
expression  fui-  (hrisdan  -Ro  lo^- w- "  ;  while  in 
other  cases  the  icl.uionship  referred  to  is  that 
between  Clirisi  and  (he  l-adier;  1  Th  518  'this  is 
the  will  of  (hill  in  Clirisi  .lesns';  2  Co  5'»  'God 
was  in  Christ  reconcilinLj  the  «ialil.' 

II.  The  woiil  is  als.,  used  (o  translate  otlier 
prepositions  in  the  following  senses  : 

8ia,  '  within '  a  space  of  time  (Mt  26*'  '  build  it 
in  three  days '). 

Kara,  '  throughout,'  '  according  to '  (Lk  15"  '  a 
famine  in  that  land,'  Mt  1^°  'in  a  dream'). 

irpo's,  'towards,'  direction  (Lk  12^  'spoken  in  the 
ear '). 

to-u,  adverb,  within  (Mt  26^"  'entered  in'). 

£irC,  'on,'  'upon,'  'over.'  The  RV  has  followed 
the  more  restricted  use  of  '  in  '  in  many  cases,  and 
substituted  'on,'  'upon,'  'at,'  'over,'  'by,'  'unto,' 
'to'  (Mte'"  'thy  will  be  done  in  earth'  [RV  'on 
earth'],  W  'in  [RV  'at']  the  mouth  of  two  or 
three  witnesses,'  2~  'reigning  in  [RV  'over'] 
Judica,'  211"  .in  [Ry  'by']  the  way,'  13"  'in  [RV 
•unto']  them  is  fulfilled  the  ]iropliecy,'  Mk  S^^ 
'knowing  what  was  <lone  in  [KV  ■|o]"her');  but 
in  some  cases  'in'  is  rciaincd,  \\lieie  Knglish 
idiom  requires  it,  and  ^\  here  (lie  sense  is  not  liable 
to  be  mistaken  (with  the  -enitive,  Mk  s^  'in  the 
wilderness'  [RV  'in  a  de.sert  place'],  ll''  'in  a 
place  where  two  ways  met '  [RV  '  in  the  open 
street'],  and,  with  the  dative,  Mt  14^  'in  a 
charger,'  Mk  lO'--*  'trust  in  riches,'  Lk  18"  'trusted 
in  themselves  that  they  were  righteous,'  i.e.  rested 
their  confidence  of  being  righteous  upon  them- 
selves).    For  iiri  with  6voij.a  see  lielow. 

els,  '  into,'  '  with  reference  to,'  '  with  a  view  to ' : 
(«)  = '  into,'  locally  or  figuratively,  often  after  verbs 
of  rest,  where  previous  motion  and  direction  are 
implied  (Mt  2^  'came  and  dwelt  in  a  city,'Jn  9' 
'  go  wash  in  the  pool,'  Mt  10='  '  what  ye  hear  in  the 
ear,'  13^^  '  hid  in  three  measures  of  meal,'  Mk  1" 
'baptized  in  the  Jordan,'  5**  'go  in  peace,'  Jn  1'* 
'  which  is  in  the  bosom  of  the  Fatlier ' — eis  t6v 
K6X?roi' — i.e.  placed  in  the  Father's  bosom  and  there 
abiding) ;  (6)  = '  with  respect  to,'  '  with  a  view  to ' 
(Lk  22"  'in  remembrance  of  me,'  16'  'wiser  in 
their  generatit)n '  [RV  '  for  their  generation ']). 
After  TTiffTei'.w,  '  heli.xe,'  els  is  largely  used  (Mt  IS*, 
Jnli='223  3'»  elc.)  ill'  or  -on-  in  A\',  in  RV  in- 
variably 'on':  i(  iiii|ilirs  the  dirccdon  in  which 
the  believing  soul  turns,  (he  fellowshi]i  into  which 
itfenters.  Siieeiallv  iiotew(n-tb,v  is  the  use  of  eh, 
iiri,  and  iv  with  ovojia.  Wliile  the  Synoptists 
commonly  employ  iwl  or  ds  or  the  simple  dative, 
and  rarely  use  iv  except  in  the  phrase,  '  Blessed  is 


796 


INCAENATION 


INCARNATION 


he  that  conieth  in  the  name  of  the  Lord '  (Mt  21* 
23=",  Mk  IP,  Lk  13**  19=*),  St.  Paul  and  the  Fourth 
Gospel  prevailingly  employ  iv,  and  use  eis  only 
after  vurTevtu  or  fiairTiiu.  The  prepositions  have 
their  ow-n  nuance  of  meaning  ;  the  Synoptic  ^Tri  rifi 
(ii-A/iaTt  /iou  (Mt  IS'*  24S  Mk  9*^-  *"  etc.)  indicates 
dependence  of  some  one  on  another,  the  authoritj' 
on  wliich  one  leans  ;  eh  rA  6voiia,  in  reference  to,  or 
in  view  of,  what  the  name  imports  (Mt  10"  '  re- 
ceive a  prophet  in  the  name  of  a  prophet '  =  in  view 
of  his  propnetic  character  or  function,  18™  '  two  or 
three  gathered  together  in  my  name '  =  not,  by  My 
authority,  but,  in  view  of  My  name,  with  the  view 
of  honouring  Me ;  and  ^x  riji  6v6naTi,  by  a  uthority, 
clothed  with  the  commission,  of  some  one  (Mt  2P 
'  cometh  in  the  name  of  the  Lord  '),  or  even  by  the 
use  of  the  name,  as  contraste<l  with  tl\.'  ;iinhoritj' 
(Mk  9^*  '  we  saw  one  casting  out  '  -   ■   >       name,' 

i.e.  using  the  name  of  Jesuf-  '  \nrcist 

might).  The  very  obvious  [iii  i.  an  li  St. 
Paul  and  the  Fourth  Gospel  r,hu\\  lui  t.-  und  the 
corresponding  eis  may  well  be  couueuteil  with  the 
idea  of  intimate  mystic  communion  which  influ- 
ences all  their  religious  thought.  In  the  gieat 
majority  of  cases  ev  dud/uin  indicates  not  so  much 
the  authority,  as  the  union  and  fellowship  on 
which  the  authority  is  founded  (Jn  17'-  'I  kept 
them  in  thy  name,'  20^'  'that  believing  ye  may 
have  life  in  his  name,'  1  Co  6"  'ju.stilied  in  the 
name  of  the  Lord  Jesus,'  where  iv  has  the  same 
pregnant  meaning  as  in  the  phrase  iv  Xpicru  'lr]<roC) ; 
and  ei's  t6  oyofia  after  Tio-Tet'/u  and  jSaTTTfj-u  like^^ise 
indicates  the  communion  into  which  the  baptized 
believer  enters  (Jn  2-"  '  many  believed  ei's  to  foo/ta 
airroV,'  Ro  6',  Gal  3"  'baptized  into  Christ';  so 
probably  Mt  28"  '  baptizing  them  into  the  name  of 
the  Father,'  etc.). 

In  one  or  two  cases  '  in '  is  used  to  translate  Ik 
and  (icToi,  but  the  RV  renders  these  more  pre- 
cisely 'from'  and  'with.'  It  is  also  used  as  part- 
translation  where  a  single  Greek  word  is  rendered 
by  a  phrase  (Jn  8*  2=",  Lk  10«  W  etc.). 

Moult. ■■!.    '.■  ■       -  ■    VT    '•■      •  ■-        !,    lireek- 

Ennh   '     !     ■   ■  ■   ■■       ■^  !■■    '•  I.-x.  of 


INCARNATION. 


The  mcssac'L-  of  Christianity— Union  with  God  in  the  Person 
of  Christ. 

A.  The  Charactbr  of  Curist. — 

1.  Perfect  goodness. 

(1)  Relation  to  God  :  (a)  perfect  knowledge,  Qi)  i)er- 

(2)  Relation  to  men  :  perfect  knowledge  and  love. 

2.  Absolute  sinlessness :  evidence  of  contemporaries ;  His 

own  consciousness  ;  inference  as  to  His  Person. 

B.  The  self-witkess  of  Jksus  :  the  method  of  His  self-disclosure, 
i.  His  claims: 

1.  Teacher  :  (1)  the  solitariness  of  the  office,  (2)  the  note 
of  authority,  (3)  the  originality  of  the  teaching,  (4) 
the  future  of  the  teachini.'. 


ex   licit  a.,nn,„„,Mi.>T,t*  '" 

4.  Saviour :  (1)  the  function,  bestowal  of  forgiveness  and 

of  life  ;  (2)  the  response,  personal  trust. 

5.  Lord. 

6.  Worker  of  Miracles. 

7.  Creator  of  the  Sew  Israel. 

8.  Judge. 

ii.  His  Belt-designations. 

1.  Son  of  Man  :  (1)  \Vhence  did  Jesus  derive  the  title' 

(2)  How  did  He  use  it  ?  (3)  What  does  He  reveal  as  tc 
His  own  Person  in  it  ? 

2.  Son  of  God  :  (1)  use  bv  demoniacs,  (2)  use  by  high 

priest,  (3)  ascription  by  Peter,  (4)  our  Lord's  use,  (.I) 
Di\ine  attestation. 
Inference  as  to  the  constitution  of  our  Lord's  Person. 


'HE  WITNESS  OF  THE  APOSTLES. 

The  primary  fact,  a   living  experience.     Then,  the 
Christologies. 
The  earlier  chapters  in  the  Acts  of  the  .\postles. 
I'hc  minor  Christologies ; 

■i.  First  Epistle  of  Peter. 

3.  Jude  and  2  Peter. 

4.  Apocalypse. 

The  Christology  of  St.  Paul :  (a)  its  origin  in  his  experience, 
(i/)  its  relation  to  the  common  belief  of  the  Church, 
(o)  it5  development. 

1.  Christ  in  His  relation  to  God. 

2.  Christ  in  His  relation  to  men. 

3.  Christ  in  His  relation  to  the  Cosmos. 
Hebrews. 

'•■I." MSP  of  the  term  Logos. 

It    known  in  history  and  ex- 


V.  Fourth 
Conclusion 


iie  solution  of  the  problem  of 
.  i>i-obleni  for  faith.    The  know- 


2.  TIk   .  .,-..,  I 
abluiws  ut 

(1)  Christ  kno\™  as  God 

(2)  Christ  known  as  Man. 

(a)  The  origin  of  His  earthly  lite. 

(6)  The  relation  of  the  human  and  Divine  aspecU  of 
His  personality.     Theories  under  control  of 
dualism.     Psychological  theories. 
Literature. 

Introduction.— CXvAsXiaxi  theology  has  employed 
many  ruling  ideas  in  order  that,  by  means  of  them, 
it  might  harmonize  and  sy.stematize  the  ma.ss  of 
material  presented  in  Scripture  and  in  experience. 
Each  of  these,  e.g.  '  the  Fatherhood  of  God,'  or 
'  the  Kingdom  of  God,'  has  meaning  and  value  ; 
but  they  all  lie  within  the  supreme  and  command- 
ing truth,  which  is  the  declaration  of  Clmstianity, 
viz.  uiiii.n  with  God.  Tliis  truth  has  both  a 
pi',:<,,),,il  niiil  a  losmic  aspect.  God  is  the  life  of 
iiuni.  (iiilv  a-  man  thinks  the  DiWne  thoughts, 
wills  tlif  Itiyiiie  will,  and  acts  in  the  Di\'ine 
strength,  does  he  reach  the  truth  of  his  own  natiu-e, 
or  realize  his  ideal  self.  When  man  is  most  truly 
himself,  he  finds  himself  to  be  a  partaker  of  the 
Divine  nature  ;  and  what  he  is  most  crofoimdly 
conscious  of  is  not  himself,  but  the  God  in  whom 
he  lives,  who  is  the  source  of  all  that  is  most  truly 
human  in  his  personal  acti\'ities.  The  end,  in 
attaining  wliich  life  and  satisfaction  for  the  indi- 
vidual and  for  the  race  are  to  be  fotmd,  is  God. 
God  is  also  the  life  of  tlie  universe.  Christian 
thcologi;-  lias  thrown  off  the  blight  of  the  old 
ri,  i  ■  "1^  *,  "!  vitti  ilfti;_'ht  to  the  e.\positions  of 
Si  i!  ,.  tliought,  reason,  law,  life, 

I  ^    science    can    trace,    but 

\\ :    <:ii:   never  define,  God,  the  same 

Guil  Willi  IS  tiie  lite  111  man.  Between  the  power 
manifest  in  the  physical  universe  and  the  power 
operative  in  the  spii'itual  sphere  there  is  no  oppo- 
sition. Both  are  e.xpressions  of  the  same  Divine 
energy. 

(1)  What  is  thus  stated  as  a  Christian  doctrine 
is  found  to  be  present  either  implicitly  or  explicitly 
in  all  the  great  productions  of  the  liunian  sjiirit, 
which  are  also,  most  surely,  productions  of  the 
Di\'ine  Spirit,  as  it  impels  and  tjuickens  the  mind 
of  man.  Union  with  God  is  at  once  the  pre- 
supposition and  the  promise  of  the  great  reliijions, 
which  have  awakened  the  emotions  and  deter- 
mined the  aspirations  of  men. 


in  the  demand  for  vital  union  with  the  Divine  source  of  life. 
Anthropomorphic  polrtheism,  as  in  the  religion  of  Greece,  even 
though  its  religious  aspect  may  lie  overlaid  by  its  asthctic 
lieauty,  has  yet  its  roots  in  the  elemental  demand  for  union 
with  the  Divnne  principle  of  being.  In  those  religions  which 
for  good  or  evil  have  recoiled  from  all  contact  with  space  and 
time,  as  in  the  pantheism  which  is  the  substratum  even  to-day 
of  the  Hindu  consciousness,  the  demand  has  become  clear  and 
passiniKtti-.  For  this  purpose  shrines  are  multiplied  and  aus- 
t,  1  that  the  soul  of  the  worshipper  may  be 

I,  ind  so  be  carried  on  the  tide  of  a  lesser 
I.  iiier  ocean  of  absolute  Being.    The  whole 

Iteligion,  from  polydemonism  up  to  the 
).  .  1   universal  religions,  might  be  laid  under 


INCARNATION 


INCARNATION 


797 


contribution  to  illustrate  and  confirm  the  conclusion  that  tne 
deepeVt  pa>.»ion  of  the  human  hea.t  has  ever  been  union  with 

(2)  The  idea  of  union  with  God  is,  fuither,  the 
piesuppobition  and  the  luhng  categoiy  of  philo 
bophic  thought  To  think  at  all  iniphes  that 
there  is  present  to  the  nm  1  tin  i  li  u  oi  |  iiiiit\ 
4)1  and  to  which  the  ni  mil  II  I  l  nl  '  '  '  '  '"  ' 
verse  e\ist  Philoso)jli\  i  ii  i)  h  U  J  iiii  i"  " 
and  application  of  this  idu  1 1  riulusuiihj  uujui 
inrfy,  W\evei  gieat  its  quauel  may  be  \Mth  anj 
existing  lehgion,  is  itself  fundamentally  religious 
It  seeks  to  accomplish,  m  thought  and  forthinkeis, 
the  haimonizing  of  all  leality  in  and  with  God 

This  is  the  effort  of  eaiU  Greek  thought,  though  as  >et  the 
distinction  of  spiritual  and  material  had  scarceh  eineigea 
From  \enophanes  «ith  his  assertion  that  ™th>"i,.'»  „^?^,f 
Being,  and  Herachtus  «ith  his 
flu\,  the  piobleni  of  the  higher 
thinkers  v\ho  philosophiziii_  imp 
ultimate  unit\  of  the  unnerse  as 
Thought  From  them  a^jain  it  Iv 
ing  compli 
"  jel  IS  n 

the  need  and  aspuation  of 
regarding  human  personal 
the  broadest  minded  lai  u 
and  that  consequcnth  in  - 
itself,  the  human  self  is  ill  a 
the  unn  ersal  self  and  beco 
This  fact  forces  its  wai  to 

ual     nlture 


to  determine  is  to  limit  God  is  thus  the  indeterminable  To 
Him  no  predicates  apph  Philo  s  duahsm  is  thus  wider  and 
deeper  than  that  of  the  Gieek  thmkeis  It  is  a  dualism  not  be 
tvveen  God  conceived  as  puie  thou„'ht  and  the  world  condemned 
betv\  een  the  transcendent  God  w  ho  is  too  hi„'h  to 
the  loftiest  rategorj  of  thought  and  the  realm 
itt  as  such      His  ju   1  lui     a    rrdin,h     -    '" 


be  expressed 


IS  to  find  i 


lime  and  space  wo 

I  lulo  built  of  elem 

Gieek  pbilosoph 


handed  on  to 
:o  exliibit  the 
>i  Thought  of 
,ne\ei  deepen 


itu  the  hfe  of 

reproduction 

on  and  iiiipassioiied 

date  ma\  be  pictu 
iLiatioii        Toi    the 


I  w  orl  1  the  hour  had  come  in  tne  isi 
terns  the  one  boin  on  Gieek  soil  the 
1  thL  minds  of  educated  men,  and  supplied  them 


I  t  God  and  to  ascribe  to  it 
t  reation  and  of  judgment 
I  1  1  nt  of  Greek  philosophj , 
1  I  Liuii  ot  the  LOoOS  or  immanent 
liom  this  twofold  attitude  of  mind, 
lo  reached  the  conception  of  a  prin 
and    jet  distinct  from    God     which 


IS  descended    and 


i(  endent  God  and    the 
:  double  lineage 


the\  did 


(a)  One  was  btoicism  The  sv stems  of  Plato  and  Aiistotle 
hatlbeen  pieicedb\  dualism  whi  h  these  masters  had  sought 
in  vam  to  o\eiconie  Then  supirme  merit  is 
not  disguise  the  intensit\  of  the  oppositoi 
rational  and  the  iriational,  between  torm  a 
btoioisni  speculation  is  „'rownng  wear\  of  tb 
this  aohism  of  the  unuerse  and  is  hoping  t 
casj  for  itsrlf  h\  sei/in  '  one  of  the  rpposin_ 
raakm     tl    t    s ,,  ,  Tli     ' 

ultunat 

luteh     1 

dlrects'tbc    m<U    lit   t     tin..  J  _iv^  from^a^P 


This  famous  desunili  n    i  i  !■ 
effoit  the  nun  1 
the  seeimngh    1 

union  with  tb 
in  the  1st  cei  1 

ophv  or  of  the  Alevandiian  tin 
an  intellectual  atmosphere  fi 
And  a  shorthand  expression  ii 
IS  continualh  on  the  hps  of 
they  sought  and  of  what  thcv 

this  phrase"  and  all  it  stoo  1 
whethei  in  its  •stoic  m  1  hilonie 
which  awakene  1  self      i 
failed  to  re^c 
obvious  fact     1 
which  it  off  I 
thought  an  1 


,ht  or  as  sometliii 
On  the  other  is  t 
rsed     findin^    m 


,    at    the    fu 

indiMdnalis 

political   ' 


iiself 


.vorldo 


thp  1 


•ue  satisfM 
It  piomise 
hn  will  fin  1 


'sal  element 
!rse  Thus 
t,    PhUos 


,  I  ither  must  w  e  imagine 
'    the    speculations   which 

term  Logos     This  phrase 

It  tells  at  once  of  what 

,'ht  thc\  had  found      An> 

"w   lid  must  icckon    with 

Tliat  the  1  o^os  doctrine, 


1       nceived  aspure 
tl  ereal  indescnh 

litions  with  the 
How  shall  these 
will  h  God  throws  across 
he  luwer  side  The  Logos 
1  itself  anv  particle  of  the 
I  wbieh  IS  bound  up  with 
ach  stretch  or  leap  as  he 
iiiiin;;  1  ridge  Matter  will 
ml  phvsical  ecstasj,  which 
confines  of  the  spiritual 


The 


with  t 


and  ^ernunalh  present  in 
w  as  bound  1 1  ha\  e  great  issi 
chenshing  it  and  in  widei 
ferredbv  Stoicism  on  cuiliz 
Atth 


is  bound  I 
toiled  at  what  thev  knev 
earned  their  burden  iiobh 


fail      Its 


I  atent  an  1  imperishable 
as  no  moie  than  faith  in 
itrenuous  exponents 


t  hopeless  task   and  though  the\ 
.ir  hearts  weie  pureed  with  the 

„ „.  ..._ „._      Belief  in  a  purpose  wl  iPh  links  all  the 

discords  of  the  world  into  one  plan  conquers  all  things  evil 
and  makes  them  subservient  to  good,  requiies  some  surer  basis 
than  the  meditations  of  a  philosopher,  however  true  or  noble 
these  mav  be.  The  failure  of  Stoicism  is  obvious  now ;  but  in 
the  Hellenic  world,  in  the  early  years  of  the  Roman  Empire,  it 
permeated  educated  society  like  an  atmosphere,  and  supplied 
thinking  men  with  a  point  of  view  whence  they  might  look  out 
on  life  not  wholly  dismayed  or  despairing.  .... 

(6)  The  other  system,  which  expresses  the  demand  of  the  age 
for  union  with  God,  and  which  helps  us  to  understand  the 
attitude  of  the  Greek  mind  toward  Christianity,  when  it  came 
forth  with  its  great  mcssa','e  of  reconciliation  accomplished, 
was  that  which  ori..in-.tM.l  "iH,  Ph. In.  and  which  at  a  later 
stage,  as  eIabor.it.  1  i  I"  (  n  .  i  i  '1  it^c  f  as  a  rival  to 
Chnstianitv.     I'l.  '  i         i  '         ',  .,..lv  m  name.     It 

isessentialh  tU,  '  i  .  .l.tlerence.    The 

'idea'  of  PL.tM   .     I  I  ,1^1, .tie  have  ahke 


lilos- 


(3)  In  order  to  complete  e\  en  so  hasty  a  sketch 
of  the  spiiitual  situation  m  the  Hellenic  Roman 
woil.l  nt  the  advent  of  Christiamt>,  it  is  necessary 
I  1.  tl  the  fiesh  and  moie  hopeful  point  of  view 
I  I  t  I  liy  the  ieliL,Km  ot  Isi  lel  («)  Its  pie 
II  il  1  in  IS  not  the  tontrist  but  the  afhnity  of 
( .oil  in  I  man  On  the  one  Innd  God  is  like  man 
Antluopomoiphism  is  not  false  for  human  natuie 
is  the  leflex  of  the  Dnine  ind  the  attnbutes  ot 
man  do  therefoie,  inaderiuitel>  but  not  falsely, 
lepresent  the  attributes  of  God  On  the  other 
hand,  man  is  like  God  c  ijitble  of  comnuinion  -nith 
Him,  as  one  person  is  v.Mi  anothei,  hnding  in  that 
fellowship  his  true  hfe.  The  Greek  dualism  of 
God  and  the  universe,  of  form  and  matter,  is  un- 
known to  the  OT.  Whatever  mediation  is  wanted 
is  found  in  man  himself,  who  is  creation  s  cvovm, 
to  whom  nature  is  bound  by  community  of  sub- 
stance, in  whose  destiny,  for  weal  or  woe,  nature  is 
profoundly  implicated,  (b)  Its  analysis  is  wholly 
difierent  from,  and  far  deeper  than,  the  Greek. 
It  lays  bare,  not  distance  between  God  and  man, 
as  between  two  .li-i.^iv.iti"  natures,  but  a  breach,  as 
between  tNv.,  ,..r-....^  ^vl.o  ought  to  have  been  at 
one,  but  an-  i......  tLi-Huh  the  action  of  the  de- 
pendent piMs,  mal .  I  \ .  w . ..  fnlly  opposed.  The  gulf  to 
be  brid<'ed,  therefore,  is  not  that  between  form  and 
matter,  hut  between  will  and  will.  To  overcome 
thiS;  no  one  of  the  Divine  attributes,  but  God  Him- 


798 


INCARNATION 


INCARNATION 


self  alone,  will  suffice,  (c)  The  goal  of  the  religion 
of  Israel,  accordingly,  is  the  indwellinj;  of  God  in 
man.  The  coming  of  Jehovah  in  His  fulness  is  the 
end  to  which  the  prophets  of  Israel  look.  "When 
He  comes,  Israel  ^^^^  he  restored,  and  the  universe, 
sharing  the  hlessing,  will  itself  be  renovated. 
They  conceived  this  coming  of  the  Lord  without 
perspective,  and  in  the  forms  belonging  to  the 
world  of  their  own  day.  In  this  way  alone  could 
the  hope  of  the  coming  of  the  Lord  have  .sustained 
and  comforted  their  o\\'n  spirits ;  only  in  such 
forms  could  they  have  proclaimed  it  to  others  who, 
like  themselves,  waited  for  the  consolation  of  Israel. 
The  spiritual  history  of  the  devout  in  Israel,  accord- 
ingly, is  one  of  continual  disillusionment.  Form 
after  form  broke  like  mist;  and  still  the  perfect 
form  in  which  the  presence  of  Jehovah  would  Ije 
fully  realized  did  not  come.  It  is  little  wonder, 
therefore,  that  the  hope  of  Israel  did  not  retain  its 
purity  and  spirituality,  save  in  the  hearts  of  an 
inner  circle  of  whom  the  theologians  and  politicians 
of  the  time  took  no  account, — the  iJOor  in  spirit, 
the  mourners,  the  meek,  the  pure  in  heart.  Com- 
parison between  the  two  lines  of  development,  that 
of  Greek  philosophy  and  that  of  the  religion  of 
Israel,  shows  that  the  ruling  idea  of  both  was  union 
\rith  God,  and,  tlirough  this,  the  unifying  of  all 
the  elements  of  the  life  of  man  and  of  nature.  On 
neither  line  had  the  goal  been  reached.  In  the  one 
there  was  at  best  an  occasional  and  intermittent 
experience  of  ecstasy.  In  the  other  there  was,  in 
the  deepest  natures,  a  hoping  against  hope,  that 
God  would  yet  visit  His  people. 

Into  such  a  world,  Jewish  and  Hellenic,  Chris- 
tianity entered,  \vith  the  declaration  that  what  men 
had  been  seekin"  had  come  to  pass,  that  union 
■with  God  was  no  longer  a  mere  dream  or  a  -nistful 
hope,  but  an  accomplished  fact.  God,  so  the 
announcement  runs,  has  united  Himself  with  one 
Man,  so  that  all  men  may,  in  this  Man,  who  is 
both  Christ  and  Logos,  become  one  with  God. 
The  reconciliation  of  God  and  man  is  effected  not 
merely  in  idea,  but  in  a  liistoric  Person.  He  is 
both  God  and  man,  through  Him  men  have 
access  to  God,  in  Him  man  and  the  universe  are 
gathered  into  unity,  and  are  perfected  in  their 
being.  He  is,  with  respect  to  the  Divine  purpose, 
at  once  apxn  and  tAos,  the  active  cause  of  its  fulfil- 
ment, and  the  goal  of  its  accomplisliment.  It  is 
plain  that  the  heart  of  this  announcement  is  the 
Person  of  Christ.  Do  the  facts  regarding  Him 
warrant  the  transcendent  claim  made  on  His 
behalf  ?  Is  this  man  Divine  as  well  as  human  ? 
Does  He  indeed  meet  the  demand  for  union  v,-\t\\ 
God?  Tliese  questions  must  not  be  approached 
with  any  dogmatic  presuppositions.  The  answer 
to  them  must  be  sought  in  the  portraiture  of  the 
historic  Christ,  and  in  the  impression  which  His 
personality  made  on  those  who  came  under  its 
influence. 

A.  The  character  of  Christ.— it  is  remark- 
able that  all  study  of  Christ  necessarily  begins 
\nt\^  His  character.  It  is  not  so  with  other  great 
men,  even  the  founders  of  religions.  What  pri- 
marily drew  adlierents  to  them  was  not  the  good- 
ness of  their  characters,  but  some  gift  or  power 
which  they  possessed.  Believers  in  the  greatness 
of  these  heroes  have  teen  able  to  retain  their  faith, 
even  while  admitting  the  moral  defects  of  tliose 
to  whom  they  prostrated  both  intellect  and  will. 
It  is  not  so  with  Jesus  Christ.  He  rules  the  minds 
of  men  by  the  impression  of  His  personality,  and 
in  this  impression  His  character  forms  an  integral 
part.  Prove  Him  guilty  of  .sin,  and  at  once  the 
spell  is  l)roken.  He  has  achieved  nothing,  if  He 
can  he  classed  among  otlier  frail,  failing,  sinful 
mortals.  All  Christology,  therefore,  must  begin 
with  a  character  study  of  Jesus.     An  attempt  at 


such  a  study  has  been  made  in  the  article  Ch.\k- 
ACTER  OF  Christ,  the  details  of  which  need  not 
be  repeated  here.  We  may,  however,  restate  the 
results  of  that  article — the  results,  as  we  believe, 
to  which  the  study  of  His  character  must  neces- 
sarily lead.  Contemplating  Him  as  He  is  presented 
to  us  in  the  Gospels,  two  features  of  His  character 
stand  out  .supreme  and  unmistakable. 

1.  The  first  is  positive.  His  perfect  goodticss. 
This  quality  is  to  be  sought,  and  is  found,  in  all 
the  relations  in  which  Jesus  stood  to  His  fellow- 
men  and  to  God.  (1)  Between  Him  and  God  the 
relations  were  .such  as  never  existed  in  the  case  of 
any  otlier  man.  They  include  :  («)  perfect  know- 
ledge, (b)  perfect  love.  Jesus  knew  God  directly 
and  fully,  with  the  complete  intimacy  of  a  Son, 
nay,  of  one  who,  in  comparison  with  all  otlier  men. 
Is  'the  Son  (Mt  11-'').  He  beheld  Divine  realities 
with  immediate  vision,  and  reported  what  He  had 
seen  and  heard  ( Jn  P*  6^'^  S'*  15'^).  We  see  in  Jesus 
one  whose  vision  of  God  was  absolutely  undimmed, 
whose  intercourse  with  God  was  unhindered  by 
any  incapacity  on  His  part  to  receive,  or  to  re- 
spond to,  the  communications  of  God  to  Him. 
Jesus,  moreover,  loved  God  with  the  strength  of  a 
nature  which  had  never  been  injui'ed  by  any  breach 
vnXh  God.  In  His  love  for  God  there  is  no  trace 
of  the  compunctions,  the  heart-breaking  memories, 
which  make  the  love  of  the  redeemed  a  tiling  com- 
pounded of  tears  and  pain,  as  well  as  of  adoration 
and  gladness.  It  shows  itself  in  serene  and  un- 
broken trust,  wliich  continually  depends  on  the 
Father's  gifts  (Jn  S-*  »  7'"  14"- «),  and  in  perfect 
and  comprehensive  obedience,  which  o^vned  no 
other  >vill  than  the  Father's  (Lk  ^,  Jn  4«  G^). 
Thus  loving  God,  He  wa-s  aware  that  God  loved 
Him,  and  did  continually  pour  upon  Him  the 
fulness  of  a  Divine  love  wliich  found  no  limitations 
in  the  spiritual  recepti^■ity  of  its  object.  The 
Divine  love,  which  returns  from  every  other  object 
restrained  by  incapacity  or  wounded  by  misunder- 
standing, is  concentrated  upon  Christ,  abides  and 
has  free  course  in  Him,  and  returns  to  its  source  in 
God  completely  satisfied  and  rejoicing  ^\ith  eternal 
joy.  Nothing  less  than  complete  mutual  indwell- 
ing and  perfect  mutual  joy  of  fellowship  are  un- 
veiled to  us  in  the  communings  between  .Jesus  and 
God,  to  which  the  naiTatives  reverently  admit  us. 

(2)  Between  Jesus  and  His  fellow-men  the  rela- 
tions are  no  less  perfect.  It  is  true,  H  e  could  not 
realize  in  His  own  ca.se  all  possible  circumstances 
in  which  a  man  might  be  placed.  But  He  could, 
and  did,  hold  such  an  attitude  to  men  as  would 
enable  Him  to  enter  with  perfect  sympathy  and 
entire  appropriateness  into  anj'  situation  into 
which  DiAnne  Pro\ddence  might  conduct  a  man.  In 
a  word.  He  loved  men.  It  is  abundantly  cedent 
that  He  knew  them,  both  in  the  broad  qualities  of 
humanitj  and  in  the  indi%'idual  features  of  the 
lives  which  came  before  Him.  The  amazing  fact, 
accordingly,  is,  that,  in  spite  of  .such  knowledge. 
He  loved  men,  believed  in  their  high  destiny, 
yearned  to  save  them,  and  was  ready  to  give  the 
supreme  proof  of  His  love  by  dying  for  them. 

We  conclude,  then,  that  Jesus  was  good,  not 
merely  as  being  one  of  a  class  of  men  upon  wlioni 
we  may  pass  this  verdict  without  setting  them 
thereby  ai);irt  finm  their  MI.av-,  but  as  standing 
alone  in  tli^  miniilit.ni—  ut  Hi-  ctliical  acliieve- 
ment.  His  rli.tinrtci  lH>:n>  the  mark  of  attain- 
ment aii.l  liii.iliiy.  All  other  -oudness  is  to  be 
estiiii.iii  I  1  \  ''m  1 1 II 'asure  in  which  it  approximates 
to  111  I I  matter  of  dogma  but  of  observa- 
tion !  inference  from  the  moral  history  of 
tlioini  i'ii'inint  to  His  appearing.  It  is  a  fact 
that  He  is  the  ethical  head  of  humanity.  To  say 
this,  however,  is  to  define  Him  as  more  than  man. 
However  we  may  construe  His  person,  it  will  he 


INCARNATION 


INCAENATION 


impossible  to  confine  ourselves  to  a  merely  humani- 
tarian interpretation  of  it.  '  He  wlio  alone  stands 
in  this  universal  relation  to  humanity  cannot  be 
merely  a  member  of  it'  (Forrest,  Christ  of  History, 


etc. 


ness.  The  evidence  of  the  portrait  constrains  us 
to  conclude,  not  merely  that  Jesus  was  a  very 
good  man,  in  whom  there  was  '  the  minimum  of 
sinfulness'  and  '  tlie  maximum,  of  holiness,'  but 
that  in  Him  was  no  sin.  The  testimony  of  His 
contemporaries  might  not  suffice  to  establish  this 
result,  though  it  is,  indeed,  most  im[iressive  to  note 
how  those  who  knew  Him  iiil  ii]i;i(.'ly  bear  unani- 
mous and  most  solemn  tc-t  inioii\  l(.  Mi-  ^inlr^^ni-^-, 
and  ascribe  to  Him  an  lAh^i-  wliirli  c'l.nlil   l«'  Ih-IiI 


only  by  an  absolutely 
1  Jn  21  3=, 


i-h(,  of  proof 
lieyond  ques- 
w  as  no  sense 
]iiii;i;s  or  fall- 
mlil.  otlitTs  to 
ii.ulit  it  of  the 


nmra] 


k1  a  (conviction 


Ac  3' 
lies  in  His  own 

tion  that  in  that  consiidn-in'^^ 
of  personal  unworthiness,  nf  sh 
ures,  even  the  slightest.  He  wl 
pray  for  forgiveness,  and  ne\er 
Divine  mercy  for  Himself  ;  He  wlio  pniclaiuied  llic 
necessity  of  regeneration  for  all  men,  and  Himself 
never  passed  through  any  such  phase  of  experience  ; 
He  who  in  tenderest  sympathy  drew  close  to  the 
sinner's  side,  and  yet  always  manifested  a  singular 
aloofness  of   spirit,    and    never   inil\nled    Himself 

among  the  objects  of  tin-   [li\in .ni passion  ;  He 

who  made  it  His  vo(tati<'n  to  dii-  u,v  ihe  remission 
of  sins,  must  have  been,  in  ,i((n,il 
either  that,  or  He  must  \\:\\r  l.ei-n 
darkness  more  profound  lli.in  >in 
duces,  even  in  the  \\m>l  ni  nnii. 
of  Jesus  is  a  fact  whose  imssiliilily 
questioned  through  mere  miwillir 
tlie  inferences  which  follow  from 
sinless.  He  stands  alone  in  the  mor 
race.  He  cannot  be  clas.sed  along 
however  good  and  great.  They  aic 
to  an  ideal.  He  is  the  Ideal.  I 
moreover,  cannot  be  interprete.l  a- 
naturiE,  or  a  special  product  of 
The  difference  between  Jesus  and 
is  this,  that  while  He  has  ]iroduc 
of  sin  immeasurably  more  profound  than  they 
have  evoked  .among' their  admirers.  He  has  also 
awakened  a  eor.lidence  an^l  .i.  pe.ne  which  tliey 
have  never  wrnn-lil  in  tin'ir  clo^r^i  Mni(alor>. 
Unnumbered  ninltihnle,  oi  Imman  >oul  -  li:i\  .■  r,,uie 
under  repenerati\e  an.l  sanetilyin;;  inllnences, 
which,  without  doubt,  liave  emanated  from  His 
personality,  and  which  have  wroiight  in  them  a 
type  of  character  which  is  the  reflex  of  His. 
There  is  only  one  place  in  which  a  reverent  and 
open-minded  study  of  the  character  of  Christ  can 
set  Him,  and  that  is  beside  God,  as  essentially 
Divine.  He  is  certainly  human.  The  closer  we 
draw  to  Him,  the  more  clearly  do  we  discern 
His  humanity.  There  is  nothing,  sin  excepted, 
to  divide  us  from  Him.  Pain  and  sorrow,  tempta- 
tion and  conflict,  discipline  and  growth, — He  knows 
them  all.  In  His  universality  all  the  endless 
variety  of  human  experiences  is  comprehended ; 
so  that  He  is  kinsman  of  every  family  on  earth, 
contemporary  of  every  generation,  neighbour  and 
friend  of  every  soul  that  breathes  and  suft'ers.  Yet 
this  very  hunumity  is  the  unveiling  of  Divinity. 
If,  because  of  His  humanity,  we  have  been  inclined 
to  draw  Him  into  our  ranks,  we  soon  find  that  He 
will  not  be  tlius  classified.  He  is  man,  yet  more 
than  man— the  Holy  One  of  God.  He  was  born 
a  man,  yet  His  Inrth  was  not  the  inevitable  product 
of  physiological  and  racial  conditions ;  it  was  the 
entrance  into  humjinity  of  one  whose  home  and 
native  air  were  elsewhere.  They  were  within  the 
circle  of  Divinity.     See,  further,  art.  Sin,  §  7. 


A  study  of  the  character  of  Christ  does  not  pro- 
vide us  with  a  ready-made  dogma  of  the  constitu- 
tion of  His  person.  Two  things,  howcxer,  it  does 
etteut :  (n)  it  sets  the  person  of  I'lni-i  in  the  centre 
of  Christianity  as  its  main  deelaiali.ju  ami  its  most 
cogent  proof ;  (h)  it  makes  a  nieieli'  hunninitarian 
construction  of  His  personality  for  ever  impossible. 
We  are  constrained  to  conceive  of  the  sinless 
Christ,  not  as  the  bloom  and  efflorescence  of 
humanity,  but  rather  as  One  who  has  entered  into 
humanity  on  an  errand  of  profound  significance 
for  the  moral  liistory  of  the  race.  We  turn,  there- 
fore, once  nujre  to  the  portrait  in  the  Gospels,  to 


;  any  traces 
on  correspond- 
cter.  If  such 
he  impression 
1  it  their  true 
rnatural  functions  and  gifts 
;    for   mankind    apart   from 


den 


li;i- 


He>l 


and  slions  ( lial    il    lia-;  lie. 
untouelieil  Ipy  the  ilorliina 
know  had   jjiueeded  its  ea 
suggests,    moreover,    that   tin 
struction  tiiat  can  be  put  on  t 
no  more  tlian  tlie  trutli.     If,  i 
lii"hest  that  is   said  of  Him, 


:si's.--\t  is  Hote- 
ls I  he  constitution 
<ii  the  definitions 

rile.  This  is  an 
of    llir    narrative, 

woiiileiinl  degree 
lo|inicnt  w  Inch  we 
wiilirn    n.iin.      It 

ely     lii'jllest.    COH- 

wonK  i<i  ( 'lirist  is 
rnlh,  .loMis  te  the 
>  I.  |iie.-i-,.ly  the 
I'-i-  I  o  .lisdose 

I.elM-,.        lie    would 

iv-anlniv  it,  but 
through  the  total 


i.  Ills  c'l,  MMs.  A-  oo,i  .-vs  we  return  to  the 
pint  rail,  we  an'  impressed  by  the  extraordinary 
claims  w  l,n;li  Je.sus  nniUes  on  His  own  behalf.  He 
is  ]"ifect  in  humility;  and  3'et,  combined  -vvith 
till'  nliuo~l  gentleness,  the  mo.st  winning loveline.ss, 
there  is  an  .assertion  of  His  o•^^^l  supreme  import- 
ance, A\  hich  is  at  once  profound  and  sublime.  These 
claims  are  sometimes  stated  explicitly ;  more  fre- 
quently they  are  implied  in  what  He  says  and  does. 
In  aii\-  ease,  they  are  inseparalile  from  what  He 
belie\cs  Ilini.self  to  be.  They  enter  into  the  very 
li'xt  niv  , .f  the  narrative.  They  are  wrought  of  the 
\  ery  fibre  of  the  personality  of  Him  who  makes 
Llieni.  Whatever  qtiality  of  lieing  is  required  to 
make  them  valid,  we  must  inipnle  to  Ilim  who 
deliberately  advances  them.  Wiihoni  |, resuming 
to  make  a  complete  enumeration,  we  noie  Ihe  fol- 
lowing among  the  offices  and  functions  which  Jesus 
avowedly  claims  to  hold  and  fulfil. 

1.  Teacher.— In  Jesus'  discharge  of  this  oftice, 
certain  features  at  once  attract  attention.— (1)  The 
solitariness  of  the  office.  There  were  in  Jesus'  day 
many  teachers  of  religion,  and  the  title  of  Rabbi, 
commonly  given  to  them.  He  accepted  (Mk  14", 
Jn  13"- ").  These  others,  however,  were  prepared 
to  be  followed  by  successors  who  might  wear  their 
title  and  inherit  their  honours.  But  Jesus  claimed 
to  be  a  teacher  in  a  sense  in  which  He  could  not  Ije 
followed  by  any  of  His  ilisciples,  however  learned 
and  pious  (Mt  23").  He  did  not  aim  at  raising  up 
men  who  should  succeed  Him  in  this  office.  His 
office  of  teacher  is  His  alone.  No  doubt  there  came 
to  be  in  the  Church  certain  men  ujion  whom  the 
Spirit  of  God  c..nlcrre,l  a  special  uift  of  knowledge, 
who  were  accord iiej I V  re.-ovnizeil  .-is  ■  i,-arlicr, '  (1  Co 
1228).  But  teachers  a  ficr  llie  iialicin  oi  Cliiist  were 
not  to  be  instituted,  and  were  not  needed  in 
the  new  Society  (1  Tli  ^\  1  Jn  2=').  This  solitari- 
ness of  His  office  is  a  remarkable  fact.  He  was, 
then,  the  bearer  of  a  message  which  could  not  be 


800 


INCARNATION 


INCARNATION 


pronounced  by  other  lips  than  His,  wliich  ori^nated 
in  the  depths  of  His  consciousness,  and  owed  all  its 
significance  and  value  to  the  personality  of  Him 
who  declared  it. 

(2)  The  note  of  authority. — This  could  not  he 
missed,  and,  in  one  who  had  not  received  the 
special  training  of  a  school  Rabbi,  it  was  pro- 
foundly impressive.  When  the  people  heard  His 
first  sermon  in  Capernaum,  '  they  were  astonished 
at  his  teacliinu  :  for  he  tauj;ht  them  as  having 
authority,  a  11.1  n,.t  ;i-  tli.'  Myites'  (Mk  1~).  The 
source  of  thi-  :iiilliurity  lies  in  the  quality  of  His 
mind,  which  iliirrtly  Vcu-  things  Divine.  His 
teaching  is  nut  the  i.^.Mie  uf  a  dialectic  process ;  it 
is  of  the  nature  of  a  report,  and  implies  that  the 
Teacher  lives  in  a  habitual  intercourse  with  God, 
such  as  no  other  man  ever  enjoyed  (Jn  3").  His 
authority,  therefore,  is  His  own  absolutely.  He 
quotes  no  otlier  Kabbi,  leans  on  no  human  opinion, 
however  sound  and  wise.  More  amazing  still,  He 
does  not  use  the  formula  wliich  marks  the  super- 
natural authority  of  a  projjhet,  'Thus  saith  the 
Lord.'  For  this  He  substitutes  the  simpler,  more 
astounding  phrase,  '  I  say  unto  you.'  '  He  speaks 
at  all  times  with  the  same  absolute  conWction 
and  consciousness  of  His  Di\-ine  right.  There  is 
majesty  in  His  least  utterance,  and  it  is  nowhere 
more  easily  recognized  than  in  the  unvarnished 
record  of  the  Gospel  according  to  St.  Mark'  (Swete, 
atiidirs  in  the  Teaehinq  of  our  Lord,  p.  64).  jNIany 
men  have  been  into.xica'ted  by  theii-  own  conceit : 
but  the  .swelling  vanity  of  their  tone  has  easily 
been  detected.  When  Jesus  emploj's  the  note  of 
authority.  He  is  simply  being  tnie  to  His  own 
inner  consciousness,  which,  to  its  inmost  core,  is 
clear,  genuine,  and  reliable. 

(3)  The  originality  of  the  teaching.— \t  would  be 
a  mistake  to  attribute  to  Jesus  the  independence  of 
a  mind  which  excluded  all  possible  sources  of  in- 
formation or  instruction,  and  operated  only  in  a 
medium  of  its  own  imaginations  or  conceptions. 
Kelations  may  be  traced  between  the  teaching  of 
Jesus  and  ideas  which  found  lodgment  in  other 
minds  than  His  ;  yet  His  originality  is  not  thereby 
infringed.  Thus,  for  instance,  His  teaching  was 
couched  in  the  terminology  and  in  the  forms  of 
thought  common  to  the  religious  teaching  of  His 
day.  A  parallel  might  easily  be  drawn  to  illus- 
trate this  (cf.  Shailer  Mathews,  The  Messianic 
Hope  in  the  NT,  p.  71ft'.).  This,  however,  in  no 
way  lowers  tlie  value  of  the  teaching  of  Jesus. 
Ideas  are  not  necessarily  valueless,  because  found  in 
Rabbinical  theology.  By  taking  them  up  into  His 
larger  and  loftier  thought,  Jesus  has  placed  upon 
them  the  stamp  of  His  authority.  The  central 
idea  of  the  teachin",  moreover,  is  not  borrowed 
from  contemporary  thought.  The  spirituality  of 
tlie  Kingdom  of  God  is  Jesus'  special  contribution 
to  tlie  religious  life  of  His  day.  This  conception 
is  all  Hi.s  own,  and  is  the  organizing  power  of  all 
His  teachin".  Attempts  to  set  aside  certain  parts 
of  His  teaching  as  derived  from  external  sources, 
and  as  being,  therefore,  of  no  permanent  value, 
wreck  them.selves  upon  the  fact  that  He  was  cer- 
tainly no  eclectic,  and  that  His  teaching  lias  none 
of  tlie  features  of  a  patchwork.  His  originality 
consists  in  the  sjmthetic,  transforming  power  of 
His  mind.  Again,  His  teacliin"  is  not  independent 
of,  rather  is  it  rooted  in,  the  OT.  He  Himself  re- 
pudiated the  idea  that  He  was  breaking  wifli  the 
religion  of  Israel.  He  does  claim,  however,  to 
'  fulfil '  the  Law  and  the  Prophets  (Mt  5"). 

;  thus  conjoined  in  Jesus'  speech 


iOTt 

its  ethical  and  spiritual  signifio 


Son  (He  11). 

Once  more,  the  originality  of  Jesus  appears  most 
strikingly  in  the  fact  that  He  traces  all  His  teach- 
ing to  His  Father  (Jn  7").  The  veiy  refusal  of  the 
claim  to  be  independent  of  God  is  itself  a  claim  of 
the  most  stupendous  kind.  He  whose  words  and 
deeds  are  entirely  the  speaking  and  acting  of  God 
in  Him,  between  whom  and  God  there  is  complete 
intimacy  and  uninterrupted  reciprocity  of  thought 
and  purpose,  .stands  apart  from  all  human  teachers, 
even  the  most  brilliant  and  the  most  original.  His 
teaching  is  not  His  own.  It  is  the  message  of 
Another,  even  of  Him  who- sent  Him  to  cari-y  it 
to  the  human  race. 

(4)  The  future  of  the  teaching. — Teachers  die : 
their  great  thoughts  perish  not.  Socrates  passed 
from  the  market-place ;  but  Plato  and  Aristotle, 
those  real  Socratics,  took  up  the  threads  of  thought, 
and  wove  them  into  systems  which  have  dominated 
the  intellectual  world  ever  since.  It  is  noticeable, 
however,  that  this  has  not  been  the  history  of  the 
ideas  of  Jesus.  He  uttered  them,  and  then  passed 
from  the  scene  of  His  labours.  But  no  disciple 
took  them  and  expanded  them  into  a  system.  No 
philosophical  or  theological  system  to-day  can  claim 
to  Ix!  His.     He  Himself  i.redicted  a  much  more  ve- 


Spirit  of  God  (Jn  Hi'-''').  He  will  take  the  tliou-lits 
of  Jesus  and  unfold  their  meaning,  and  apply  their 
vitalizing  power  to  the  questionings  of  all  succes- 
sive generations  of  men,  till,  finally,  all  uncer- 
tainties are  resolved  in  the  light  of  the  eternal  day. 
It  is  certain  that  He  ^vho  '  sat  thus  by  the  well ' 
and  talked  with  a  woman,  who  preached  in  syna- 
gogues, and  taught  in  the  Temple,  had  this  con- 
sciou.sness  of  Himself  as  initiating  a  teaching  which 


destined  to  continue,   through  the  power  of 
he   Spirit  of  God,    unfailin<',   imperishaole. 


and 


and  man.    Th>'.',  therefore, 
revelation,  ,Iesus  claims  to  'iilfil. 
retain  and  develop.     We  are  not 


indefeasible.  In  respect  of  tbis  also,  Jesus  stands 
apart  from  and  superior  to  all  other  teachers  of  men. 
2.  Legislator.— Jesus  is  more  than  a  teacher, 
whether  of  the  type  of  a  .Jew  isli  Rabbi  or  of  that 
of  a  Greek  philos'oi.li.  i.  Tin-  ilisciple  band  is  more 
than  a  group  of  dd.ilr  >,mi1-,  «  1m.  may  be  expected 
to  assimilate  ami  |  i.i|..ii:ai.'  the  ideas  of  their 
Master.  The  anal.. -y  ..i  the  Sdiools  fails  to  give 
us  Jesus'  point  of  view.  He  lias  before  Him  the 
Kingdom  of  God,  which  has  existed  throughout  the 
past  ages  of  Israel's  history,  and  is  now  about  to 
pass  into  a  new  stage  of  realization.  He  speaks, 
accordingly,  not  so  much  in  the  character  of  a  com- 
municator of  new  ideas,  as  in  that  of  a  legislator 
laying  do%\-n  principles  upon  which  the  community 
of  g51  shall  be  built  or  rebuilt,  delivering  laws 
which  shall  guide  it  in  its  future  historj'.  The 
tone  of  Jesus  is  not  that  of  a  prophet  who,  standing 
within  the  Kingdom,  a  member  of  it,  like  tho.se 
wliom  he  addresses,  speaks  out  of  the  circumstances 
of  his  age,  and  addresses  to  his  fellow-citizens 
words  of  warning,  of  counsel,  of  rebuke,  and  of 
hope.  Jesus  stands  consciously  on  a  far  higher 
platform,  and  does  not  class  Himself  with  those 
whom  He  addresses,  as  though  He  and  they  bore 
the  same  relation  to  the  Law.  They  are  not  His 
fellow-citizens.  They  are  His  subjects,  citizens  of 
the  commimity  of  which  He  is  head  and  lawgiver. 
The  laws  of  the  Kingdom  He  promulgates  by  His 
own  personal  authority.  Six  times  in  the  Sermon  on 
the  Mount  He  sets  aside  'that  which  was  spoken  to 
them  of  old  time,'  and  substitutes  a  rule  of  His  own. 
In  doing  so,  however.  He  is  no  mere  revolutionary-. 
He  is  talcing  the  inner  spiritual  principle  of  the  old 


INCARNATION 


INCAENATION 


801 


Law,  and  liberating  it  from  the  restrictions  wliich 
had  protected  it  in  the  time  of  man's  pupilage. 
After  the  same  manner  He  interprets  and  applies 
the  Sabbath  law  (Mk  2-^- '-'*).  In  dealing  with  per- 
versions of  the  Law  He  is  still  more  peremptory 
and  drastic ;  c.rj.  as  to  fasting  {i}^^-)  and  cere- 
monial purification  (7^''-)-  The  consciousness  of 
One  who  thus  legislates  for  the  Kingdom  is  not 
that  of  a  prophet,  not  even  of  the  greatest  of  the 
prophets,  who  was  God's  instrument  in  the  first 
founding  of  the  community,  and  received  the  law 
at  His  hands.  It  is  rather  that  of  One  in  whom  God 
comes  to  His  people,  who  is  the  Divinely  appointed 
King  in  Israel,  whose  relation  to  God  is  closer  than 
any  mere  man's  can  be,  who  speaks,  therefore,  with 
the  very  authority  of  God  Himself. 

3.  Messiah. — The  sense  in  which  Jesus  claimed 
the  title  of  Messiah  is  certainly  not  to  be  gathered 
from  any  views  regarding  the  Messiah  entertained 
by  His  contemporaries.  The  clue  is  to  be  sought 
in  Jesus'  attitude  towards  the  OT.  (a)  He  regards 
the  OT  as  a  unity.    Critical  questions  are  not  before 


His  mind,  and  upon 


them  He  p 


ment.  'David,  'Moses,'  'Isaiah'  are  simply 
terms  of  reference.  What  He  does  lay  hold  of  is 
the  unity  of  the  revelation.  One  mind  is  revealed. 
One  self -consistent  purpose  moves  amid  these  varied 
scenes  and  ages,  (b)  He  conceives  the  Divine  pur- 
pose in  the  OT  to  be  redemptive.  The  heart  of 
the  OT  is  union  with  God,  the  formation  of  a 
spiritual  fellowship  in  which  God  is  fully  known 
and  men  enter  upon  the  position  and  privilege  of 
sons.  In  this  connexion  He  preaches  the  Kingdom 
not  merely  as  at  hand  (Mk  I'=),  but  as  present  in 
commanding  power  {Mt  12^).  Thus  He  appro- 
priates to  Himself  as  descriptive  of  His  own  work 
the  picture  language  of  Is  61''^.  So  also  in  the 
most  solemn  hour  of  His  life,  when  He  was  on  the 
verge  of  laying  it  down,  He  claimed  redemptive 
efficacy  for  His  death  in  accordance  M'ith  the  oracle 
of  the  new  covenant  (Mt  26-'8,  Jer  3P').  This  was 
central  in  the  consciousness  of  Jesus.  An  eschato- 
logy,  no  doubt,  He  had  ;  but  it  was  subordinate  to 
the  spiritual  conception  of  redemption,  and  repre- 
sented in  terms  of  current  thought  the  consum- 
mation of  redemption  in  the  world  to  come. 
Messiahship,  accordingly,  meant  for  Jesus  the 
vocation  in  which  the  redemptive  purpose  of  God, 
which  had  been  growing  to  completion  tlirough 
the  history  of  Israel,  would  be  fulfilled.  We  can 
understand,  therefore,  how  unwilling  He  would  be 
to  receive  such  a  title,  when  its  meaning  in  the  minds 
of  those  who  used  it  differed  widely  from  His  own 
conception  of  it ;  how  glad  He  would  be  to  accept  it 
when  it  was  applied  to  Him,  not  because  of  His  sup- 
posed fulfilment  of  popular  requirements,  but  in  spite 
of  His  obvious  non-fulfilment  of  these  demands ;  and 
how  careful  He  would  be  to  train  those  who  clung 
to  Him  as  Messiah  in  the  apprehension  of  His  own 
transformed  idea  of  it. 

The  passages  which  may  be  adduced  as  proof  of 
the  Messianic  consciousness  of  Jesus  all  exhibit 
His  own  interpretation  of  Messiahship,  as  the  call- 
ing of  the  agent  of  a  Divine  work  of  redemption. 

(1)  The  Bapfism.-iVov  discussion  of  I'.aptism 
and  Temptation,  see  art.  CiiARACTKi;  OF  ('in:iST, 
p.  285  f.)  This  is  evidently  much  more  than  instal- 
lation into  a  prophetical  office.  It  was  the  solemn 
acceptance  by  Jesus  of  the  vocation  of  Messiali 
interpreted  with  reference  to  the  talcing  away  of 
sin.  For  such  an  office,  a  iiprsmial  rank  superior 
to  that  of  all  other  men,  ami  a  |)ia  unal  endow- 
ment of  the  Spirit  in  a  na'a-uiv  \ilii,h  no  other 
man  could  receive,  were  c^iajiial.— cJi  The  sermon 
at  Nazareth.  Here  the  Messianic  era  is  described 
in  terras  of  intense  spirituality ;  and  the  Speaker 
claims  to  be  the  Messiah  in  a  sense  which  identifies 
Him  with  the  Servant  of  the  Lord  (Lk  4i6-3»)._ 
vol.,  I.— 51 


(3)  The  reply  to  John  the  Baptist.  To  the  question 
'Art  thou  he  that  cometh?'  He  makes  a  reply  which 
is  at  once  an  affirmation  and  an  interpretation. 
He  is  the  Messiah,  not  after  a  political  sort,  em- 
ploying external  or  catastrophic  instrumentality, 
but  of  a  far  hi-li.r  or.hT,  caii|.h.yiiiK  nuan,-,  wliich 
reach  to  the  ilr|illi  ..1  man'.  iicn-Uiu-  (Mt  \\--,  ef. 
Is35''-«).— (4)  rir  ,  ,7,„„</,  „/•/■•/'"  //"■  A'.'/'/'.V.  In 
Mt  ll'"  Julin  i-  ila>  I,).-,  liwa-  ,,f  Mai  :;'  «!,<.  pre- 
pares the  way  i-i  .l.ii.n  !i  ..I  h, I- I  hr  Angel  of  the 
Covenant,  wim  1  :■  :;  ,  .i  iMi  .idiuvah.  In  Mk 
!)'-■'■•  John  i>  i;  ,■  :  I:  -  ,■■'■'  "!-r.ii  the  Messiah; 
while  in  I--"  la-  \-  iiliiii  iiu'd  witli  the  'voice'  of 
Is  40'"°.  The  iiiiplied  claim  on  the  part  of  Jesus, 
which  the  Evangelist  repeats,  is  to  a  personal 
dignity  not  less  than  that  of  One  whose  coming  is, 
at  the  same  time,  the  coming  of  Jehovah  to  His 
people.— (5)  Thr  ihr>  >  f.J.l  ,,iU  of  thedisdples.  The 
call  mentioned  in  the  l-'uinth  Gospel  (Jn  1*^-")  is 
necessary  to  ruiuli  i  mirlliuiljiu  that  which  is  men- 
tioned first  by  the  Synopti.sU  (Mk  l'""'-",  Mt  4'"-",  Lk 
510.  ii)_  fijg  tiiijti  (jail  in  tlie  ordination  to  Apostle- 
ship  (Mk  3''' ")  is  the  culmination  of  the  series. 
Messiahship  and  Apostleship  thus  receive  progres- 
sive interpretation.  The  Kingdom,  the  King,  and 
high  rank  even  like  that  of  jirince  in  a  tribe  of 
Israel,  are  all  to  be  interpreted  in  a  manner  that 
confounds  and  contradicts  popular  theory. — (6)  The 
answer  to  Peter.  Into  one  moment  of  intense  emo- 
tional strain  and  profound  spiritual  instruction  are 
compressed  (a)  joyous  recognition  of  faith's  insight 
and  grasp  (Mt  16") ;  (i)  solemn  illumination  of  the 
truth  which  faith  had  tints,  with  little  intelligent 
apprehension,  made  its  ow  n  1  M  L  s  '  ').  The  Mes- 
sianic calling  has  an  aim  w  hi'li  i-  n  aihed  through 
death  and  resurrection,  lie  who  is  competent  to 
carry  out  such  a  scheme  does  not  stand  in  the  same 
rank  of  being  with  other  men.  Jesus'  doctrine  of 
His  person  is  never  dogmatically  announced.  It  is 
none  the  less,  rather  all  the  more,  impressively 
taught,  because  He  allows  it  to  grow  upon  the 
minds  of  believers  as  an  irresistible  inference. — 
(7)  It  is  significant  that  Jesus'  claims  to  Messiah- 
ship  become  more  e\]ilieit  toM-nvd  the  close  of  His 
career.  No  donht  II \i>laiialinn  is  that  mis- 
apprehension was  sralr,  ly  nu»  |„.-,il,le.  If  He 
be — as  He  is — a  Kin-,  it  i-  lluon-li  Inmiiliation  He 
passes  to  His  glory  (Mk  1 1'"-  '-'■'  13'- "  14"- "-  15-). 

4.  Saviour.— (ij  Jesus'  view  of  sin,  in  respect  of 
its  guilt,  and  power,  and  pollution,  was  the  very 
gravest.  Yet  He  did  not  hesitate  to  announce 
Himself  as  able  to  save  men  from  an  evil  for  which 
the  OT  provided  no  institute  of  deliverance.  He 
forgave  sin  (Mt  9").  He  restored  the  outcast  (Lk 
748-50  i9io)_  He  died  to  make  good  His  claims  as 
Redeemer  (Mt  26=«).  This  negative  form  of  salva- 
tion, however,  is  not  that  upon  which  alone,  or 
even  usually,  He  dwells.  He  dwells  rather  on 
the  positive"  aspect  of  salvation,  and  claims  to  be 
able  to  bestow  upon  men  the  highest  blessing  of 
which  the  OT  revelation  can  conceive,  viz.  life. 
Not  merely  does  He  promise  it  in  the  future,  but 
He  bestows  it  in  the  present.  He  possesses  life 
(Jn5-'^).  He  bestows  lif,-i(i-i.  llis«.,r(ls  convey 
life(6«^).  Thos.'  «lio  |H■|M'^-  m  llim  am  nn^lia  of 
life  to  others  {'r\.  l.in^  mn-i^-  Ininlaiiirnially  in 
knowledge  of  Gn,l,  ami  ul  lliiii-cll  as  the  Christ  (17^). 
If  we  admit  that  the  Foiiith  (lo.spel  has  reproduced 
the  teaching  of  Jesus  with  sul)stantial  accuracy,  it 
is  impossible  not  to  recognize  the  superhuman 
nature  of  Jesus'  self-consciousness.  The  Jews  might 
well  strive  with  one  another  (6°-)  as  to  what  His 
words  meant.  They  certainly  conveyed  a  claim 
which  no  mere  man  could  ofier  in  his  own  behalf. 

(2)  There  is  only  one  possible  response  on  the 
part  of  men  to  the  Divine  saving  act,  viz.  faith,  as 
personal  trust.  There  can  be  no  doubt  that  Jesus 
did  require  faith  in  Himself,  and,  in  so  doing, 


INCARNATIOX 


IXCARNATION 


consciously  stood  toward  men  in  a  place  that  can 
be  filled  by  God  only.  It  is  true  that  the  words 
'  believe  in  rae '  occur  but  rarely  in  the  Synoptics 
(Mk  9",  ^Nlt  18«).  But  if  they  have  not  the  phrase, 
they  have  the  fact.  In  Beyschlag's  well-known 
words,  '  the  conduct  of  those  who  sought  His  help, 
to  -whom  He  says  so  often  "thy  faitli  hath  saved 
thee,"  is,  at  bottom,  a  faith  in  Christ.'  So  also, 
confessing  Him  (Mt  10'-),  praying  in  His  name 
(IS*"),  coming  to  Him  and  learning  of  Him  (!!=«;*'), 
are,  in  essence,  religious  acts.  What  is  implicit 
in  the  Synoptics  becomes  explicit  in  the  Fourth 
Gospel  (Jn  11^  12'S  14'  1&>,  in  which  cases  the  use 
of  (is  implies  trustful  gi\-ing  up  of  self  to  the  per- 
sonal object  of  faith).  Surely  there  is  only  one 
justification  for  the  man  who  speaks  in  such  phrases 
and  adopts  such  an  attitude  toward  His  fellows, 
viz.  that,  human  though  He  be.  He  consciously 
occupies  a  relation  to  God  radically  distinct  from 
that  which  can  be  held  by  any  mere  man.  Jesus 
accepted  a  worship  that  can  be  rendered  to  God 
only.  Yet  He  never  by  a  breath  suggested  that 
He  was  a  rival  to  Jehovah  in  the  faith  and  love  of 
men.  Whom,  then,  did  He  conceive  Himself  to  be  ? 
Whom  must  they,  who  thus  worship  Him,  believe 
Him  to  be,  if  they  are  to  be  free  from  the  error 
of  man-worship  ? 

5.  Lord. — He  who  is  Saviour  has  the  rirfit  of 
absolute  lordship.  Such  sovereignty  Jesus  claims, 
unhesitatingly,  unceasingly.  (1)  He  commands 
rather  than  inWtes  discipleship  [e.g.  Mt  4"  8-- 
9'  19-').  (2)  He  enjoins  on  His  representatives 
a  similar  usage  (lO'--'").  (3)  He  demands  entire 
surrender,  placing  Himself  first  in  the  regard  of 
the  human  heart  {e.g.  Mt  10^-  **,  Lk  g^"""'-).  (4)  He 
decides  infallibly  on  the  spiritual  cases  set  before 
Him,  and  deals  ^^-ith  them  in  a  manner  which 
would  be  an  invasion  of  element-al  human  rights, 
if  it  were  not  warranted  by  a  unique  function, 
which,  in  turn,  is  rooted  in  a  unique  personality. 
(5)  He  appoints  the  whole  future  of  His  disciple's, 
both  here  and  hereafter  (Mt  lO'^-^",  Jn  14-  ^).  In 
all  this  there  is  implied  a  sovereignty  over  man 
which  cannot  be  wielded  by  one  who  is  no  more 
than  man. 

6.  Worker  of  Miracles.— If  we  take  the  stand- 
point of  monism,  that  there  is  only  one  substance, 
and  only  one  set  of  law-  apiirDpriu'te  to  it,  or  that 
of  dualism  or  paralleli-m,  tlut  s|.iiit\ial  and  material 
facts  belong  to  two  ili-tiint  .iiiil  inoomnmnicable 
orders  of  being,  we  f-liall  liml  it  impossible  to 
believe  in  miracle  ;  and  we  shall  condemn,  as  mis- 
taken, Jesus'  evident  belief  that  He  was  able  to 
seal  His  redemjjtive  activities  by  works  of  super- 
human power  in  the  realm  of  physical  nature. 
If,  however,  we  hold  the  theistic  position,  which 
Jesus  Himself  held,  that  between  God  and  the 
universe  there  is  neither  pantlieistic  identification 
nor  dualistic  separation,  but  that  God  maintains 
constant  contact  with  the  world  whicli  He  has 
made,  and  directs  the  activities  of  which  He  is 
the  source,  towards  ends  in  harmony  with  His  own 
nature,  then  we  shall  find  it  possible  to  believe 
in  those  interventions  of  spiritual  power  in  tlie 
domain  of  physical  nature,  which  we  call  miracle. 
The  only  question  we  shall  ask— apart  from  that 
of  evidence— is  that  of  need.  In  a  perfect  uni- 
verse there  might  be  no  need  for  miracle.  In  the 
universe  as  we  know  it  there  is  abundant  need. 
Redemption  is  needed,  at  once  ethical  and  cosmical. 
The  Kingdom  of  God  is  miraculous  in  its  very 
nature.  Miracles,  therefore,  naturally  will  attend 
its  advent  into  the  realm  of  time  and  space.  They 
are  altogether  congruous  with  the  mis.sion  of  Jesus. 
They  are  '  signs '  of  the  Kingdom,  the  cliaraeter- 
istic  '  works '  of  Him  in  whom  the  Kingdom  comes. 
Such,  in  any  case,  was  the  conviction  of  Jesus. 
Before  the  forces  of  nature,  and  of  the  obscure 


spirit- world  that  borders  on  the  physical,  in  pres- 
ence of  disease  and  death.  He  did  not  own  Him- 
self conquered.  He  bore  Himself  as  Master,  as 
One  to  whom  God's  universe  lay  open,  so  that  its 
powers  Avere  at  His  disposal  for  the  furtherance  of 
the  cause  committed  to  Him.  This  commanding 
authority  of  His  was  an  element  in  that  impres- 
sion of  supernatural  greatness  which  He  made  on 
those  who  came  under  His  influence  (Mk  1", 
Lk  5»). 

7.  Creator  of  the  New  Israel.— The  word  iKKX-qaia 
is  but  once  heard  on  the  lips  of  Jesus  in  its  special 
significance  ;  but  the  occasion  is  one  of  solemn  im- 
port (Mt  16'*).  Peter  has  made  his  inspired  con- 
fession, and  Jesus  makes  reply,  '  Thou  art  Petros, 
and  on  this  Petra  I  will  build  my  Ecclesia  ;  and  the 
gates  of  Hades  shall  not  prevail  against  it.'  Those 
who  heard  could  not  fail  to  identify  Ecclesia  with 
Israel,  as  though  Jesus  had  said,  '  on  this  Rock  will 
I  build  my  Israel'  (Hort,  The  Christian  Ecclesia, 
p.  11).  This  claim  has  reference  to  the  ^n.s<.  That 
community,  which  ori'finated  at  the  first  Pass- 
over, which  endured  through  the  vicissitudes  of 
Israel's  history,  which  cannot  be  identified  with 
the  nation  which  has  rejected  Christ,  is  now 
rebuilt,  or  built,  by  Jesus  in  His  capacity  as 
Messiah.  It  has  reference  to  the  future.  To  the 
Ecclesia,  or  community  of  believers  in  Jesus,  He 
gives  the  seals  of  the  Supper  and  Baptism ;  to  it 
He  gives  the  commission  to  carry  on  His  work  ;  in 
it  He  promises  to  dwell  by  His  Spirit.  Regarding 
it  He  predicts  that  it  will  prove  invincible  in  face 
of  the  powers  of  Hades.  He,  Jesus  of  Nazareth, 
undertakes  to  erect  on  the  bed-rock  of  that  ^oup 
of  loyal  disciples  a  new  Israel,  a  spiritual  dominion 
whicli  shall  not  pass  away  while  time  endures.  It 
is  vain  to  characterize  a  consciousness  such  as  this 
as  merely  human.  Jesus,  in  His  own  belief,  stands 
above  humanity,  Revealer  and  Representative  of 
the  everlasting  God,  superior  to  the  lapse  of  time. 

8.  Judge.— Our  view  of  eschatology  will  depend 
on  our  conception  of  history.  If  we  believe  in  the 
progressive  accomplishment  of  a  DiWne  purpose  we 
shall  anticipate  a  climax,  in  which  the  whole 
movement  will  be  complete.  In  that  case  we  shall 
not  be  able  to  set  aside  '  Messianism '  as  irrelevant 
to  the  essence  of  religion.  Our  Lord  certainly 
regarded  redemption  as  a  process  to  be  continued 
through  a  lapse  of  time,  whose  culmination  would 
form  the  completion  of  the  world's  history ;  and, 
at  the  highest  point  of  that  culmination.  He  placed 
Himself.  Amid  the  many  difficulties,  textual  and 
other,  which  surround  the  eschatology  of  Jesus,  it 
seems  clear  tliat  He  keeps  close  to  the  OT  repre- 
sentations, Arithout  committing  Himself  to  the 
details  elaborated  in  later  literature.  In  one  all- 
important  point,  however,  He  modifies  the  OT 
representation ;  Avhere  the  OT  placed  Jehovah, 
Jesus  places  Himself  as  Judge  (Mt  7^'"^  IS*"'  •"  16-'' 
2511.12.3iff.,  Lk  13»-"). 

In  the  Fourth  Gospel  there  is  another  judgment,  one  which 
belong  to  the  present  time,  and  is  carried  out  throujrh  the 
presence  or  the  word  of  Christ  (Jn  3"-21  12'"- «).  This,  how- 
ever, is  not  inconsistent  with  a  final  judirment,  but  is  rather 
its  precursor ;  while  the  final  judgrnent  itself  is  not  absent 
from  the  representations  of  the  Fourth  Gospel  (Jn  12**  627. 28 ; 
cf.  1  Jn  22s  4"). 

Here,  then,  is  the  climax  of  our  Lord's  self- 
assertion.  There  is  manifest  in  this  claim  a  con- 
sciousness which  we  should  pronounce  insane  were 
it  not  that  of  the  humblest  and  .sanest  man  the 
world  ever  saw.  Nothing  can  warrant  siuli  a  claim, 
nothing  justify  such  a  consciousness.  pa\e  tlic 
hypothesis  that  Jesus  had  a  higluT  lieiii^'  tliaii 
appertains  to  men,  and  that,  as  arising  from  this 
constitution  of  His  person.  He  had  universal  func- 
tions which  none  other  than  Himself  could  exercise. 

ii.  His  sf.lf  -  designations.  —  The  claims  of 
Jesus,  accordingly,  direct  us  to  conclude  that  He 


INCARNATION 


INCARNATION 


803 


believed  Himself  to  be  human  indeed,  yet  at  the 
same  time  One  who  was  related  to  God,  in  the 
ground  and  origin  of  His  being,  as  no  other  man 
could  be.  From  this  consciousness  the  functions 
He  claimed  relative  to  humanity  must  have  been 
derived.  It  must  have  been  on  the  ground  of  what 
He  \yas,  and  knew  Himself  to  be,  in  the  inherent 
quality  of  His  being,  that  He  set  Himself  forth  as 
called  and  enabled  to  do  certain  acts  in  and  for 
mankind. 

It  was  impossible  for  men  to  listen  to  His  claims 
without  inquiring  as  to  His  person.  Nay,  He 
Himself  stimulated  the  inquiry,  and  displayed,  if 
one  may  so  say,  an  anxiety  to  know  what  men 
were  thinking  of  Him.  What  help,  if  any,  does  He 
give  us  in  seeking  for  an  answer?  It  is  certain 
that  He  will  not  give  us  definitions  after  the  style 
of  the  creeds,  or  analytic  descriptions  in  the 
manner  of  a  modern  handbook  of  psychologT 
I  he  most,  and  the  best,  He  can  do  for  us,  is  to  grSnt 
such  unveilings  of  what  was  and  must  remain 
His  secret,  as  shall  enable  us,  under  the  requisite 
spiritual  conditions,  to  know  Him  and  to  trust  Him. 
Christ  IS  not  a  proposition  to  be  proved,  or  an 
obj  ect  to  be  dissected.  He  is  a  Person  to  be  known. 
By  what  names,  then,  does  He  will  to  be  known' 
Among  the  titles  or  descriptive  phrases  by  which 
He  designates  Himself,  two  are  of  .supreme  im- 
portance. The  discussions  regarding  their  meaning 
torm  a  kind  of  register  of  tTie  historv  of  modern 
Christology.  If  the  Person  of  Christ  be  the  centre 
of  the  Church  s  faith,  and  the  appreliension  of  it 
be  the  note  of  the  Church's  growth,  these  dis- 
cussions cannot  be  e.xpected  to  reach  scientific 
hnality.  1  he  titles  stand  for  aU  tliat  Christ  means 
in  the  experience  of  His  disciples,  and  their  wealth 
.  'n  t^"^"?  ^?'  *'ierefore,  too  rich  for  our  exegetical 
skill  to  tabulate. 

1.  The  Son  of  Man.— Three  questions  are  perti- 
nent to  our  present  purpose. 

(1)  Whence  did  Jesus  derive  the  title  .'—It  would  not  have  been 
necessary  to  ask  this  question— the  title  might  have  been  at 
once  accepted  as  invented  by  Jesus  Himself-were  it  not  that 
a  phrase,  suggestive  of  it,  occurs  both  in  the  later  apocalyptic 
literature  and  in  the  OT,  in  unmistakably  Messianic  con- 
nexions  It  is  inconceivable  that  .lesus  should  have  adopted 
this  title,  and  jio(  have  meant  it  to  designate  Himself,  as  the 
personal  reahzation  of  what  was  but  vaguelv  suggested  in  the 
mdefinite  phrase  of  Dn  T",  We  infer,  therefore?  that  the  title 
>«il.-  ,,.'•"^•1'°.'?*  ""  ^f""^'  "P^  »»  equivalent  to  the  title 
Mess  ah,  which  He  would  not  use  unless  and  until  His  use  of 
It  could  not  be  misapprehended. 

The  title,  moreover,  is  not  arbitrary  or  empty.  It  suggests 
the  type  of  Messiah  which  Jesus  believed  Himself  to  be,  an3  the 
kind  of  actions  through  which  He  intended  to  fulfil  His  Messi- 
anic vocation.  The  passage  in  Daniel,  taken  as  a  whole,  turns 
i»"„™  ™"'™'  between  two  kinds  of  sovereignty— that  which 
3  won  by  brute  force,  and  that  which  belongs  to  a  being  not 
l'."^!!  M«  ■  u^L"""'"-  ^"'  '^■'■^  ■'  precisely  Jesus'  conception  of 
H,s  Messiahship,  VIZ.  a  sovereignty  to  be  won  through  service! 
passage  which  ought  not  to  be  forgotten  when 
lources  of  Jesus'  idea  of  the  Son  of  Man  viz 
B  too  much  to  say  that  Jesus  intended  'Son 

"" for  'Servant  of  the  Lord,"  though  His 

■     •"  But  it  is  certain  that  He 

e  contents  of  that  other 


There  is  anothe 


Is  .'J3.     It  may  be  too 
of  Man  ■  to  be  a  svnony 
use  of  the  title  in  Mk9i:  ...„,„ 
filled  the  phrase  '  Son  of  Man 
conception,  and  meant  hv  '."^ 

suffering  fo  gCy.  '  '"  "'  "'■°'''''"  "''""''  ""^^^^  '"'■""^'^ 
betore^Tif,'k?o„."?f  n-~^.'  "'^--^'fiy^  P'^sages  be  placed 
.s,™^^,"^'  "^  J  "f"^  '"  I'"^'"'  s  Kreat  art.i'  Son  of  Man  •  in  Hast- 
ings' DB,  and  at  once  a  twofold  use  reveals  itself  One  claa^ 
of  passages  describes  the  work. which  Messiahship'entai?s  upon 
whoni  It  IS  done.  It  is  a  redemptive  work ;  t  is  performed  in 
lowliest  service  and  profoundest  suffering ;  its  motive  "sdeeo 
true  sympathy  with  men  in  their  ..<.«.)..  "-. ,.i.ii._  -t,u  .  ',v> 
class  contains  references  to  the 
hidden  by  the  lowliness,  though  in 

ivill  VL  rfL"''''?'  T'^J">  "',''  ""''^  °'  humiliation  are  achieVed: 
will  be  demonstrated  in  the  face  of  the  universe.     Together 

?.hlT^'„.  ■  •Ft',,''  ^'K"^  ''"^"'^  ""<!  Buffering,  and  a  death 
which  has  in  It  the  quality  of  an  atonement,  a  Messiah  whose 
faithfulness  to  His  vocation  will  be  crowned  ^th  royal  honours! 
-,  ^^^  ^I't'^'t  Che.,  He  reveal  as  to  His  own  Person  in 
i<.?-The  interpretation  of  the  title  as  'representa- 


tive or  ideal  man  is  surely  too  modern  to  be  an 
accurate  reflexion  of  Jesus'  own  mode  of  thinking 
We  shall  not  be  in  error,  however,  if  we  read  in 
tlie  title  Jesus'  identification  of  Himself  with  men 
His  profound  insight  into  their  condition  and  His 
acceptance  of  it  as  His  own,  His  taking  upon  Him- 
self  the  griefs  from  which  they  sufler,  and  His 
achieving,  in  the  depths  of  His  suflering,  their 
deliverance.  The  titfe,  accordingly,  sums%p  the 
elations  m  which  Jesus  stands  to  men.  He 
touches  human  nature  at  every  point.  It  is  true 
He  IS  sinless;  but  this  fact,  so  far  fi-om  hinder 
ingHis  perfect. sympathy  with  men,  is  its  neces- 

HR^iJ""t''(?'  f'*'°"-  •  i*^""^  ''•''■''"^e  He  is  sinless. 
His  identification  with  men  can  be  complete,  and 
He  can  be  to  men  what  no  other  can  be  He  can 
do  for  men  what  not  one  of  themselves  can  do. 
The  fulne.S3  of  His  humanity  distinguishes  Him 
from  all  individual  members  of  the  race.  He  is  not 
a  man   ;  He  is  '  the  Son  of  Man,'  the  kinsman  of 

^:f^.T'.\"l"  H"^^  ^"'1  King  of  redeemed  and 
reconstituted  humanity. 

Here  is  a  gracious  tact,  verifiable  in  the  experi- 
ence of  evei-y  man  who  will  yield  his  heart  to  this 
Saviour  and  Lor<l.  This  very  fact,  however,  opens 
depths  of  mystery  within  itself.  Who  is  He  who 
IS  perfect  man  ?  What  is  the  basis  of  this  human 
sonship  ?  It  cannot  be  a  Personality,  limited  as  ours 
IS,  needing,  as  ours  does,  some  bond  beyond  itself 
to  connect  it  with  God.  He  who  can  stlnd  in  this 
unique  relation  to  men  must  stand  also  in  a  unique 
relation  to  God.     See  also  art.  Son  of  Man 

2.  The  Son  of  God.-This  title,  as  Jesus  used  it 
or  accepted  it  is  plainly  derived  from  the  OT, 
where  it  is  applied  to  the  theocratic  people  (Ex  i^ 
Hos  111),  to  the  theocratic  King  (2  S  7"  Ps  SQ^"- '") 
and  to  the  Messiah  (Ps  2').  The  OT  usage  evi- 
dently IS  not  barely  official,  but  shows  a  growth  in 
spirituality  of  connotation  and  in  definiteness  of 
application.  It  would  be  too  much  to  suppose  that 
any  OT  prophet  clearly  discerned  the  I)ivinity  of 
the  Messiah ;  but  at  least  the  prophetic  vision 
catches  sight  of  One  who  should  stand  in  a  spiritual 
relation  to  God  clo.ser  than  that  whicli  can  possibly 
be  occupied  by  any  member  of  the  theocracy. 
Ihe  title,  accordingly,  as  it  applies  to  the  Messiali, 
does  not  express  barely  His  office,  but  rather  some 
quality  of  His  person  wliich  is  superhuman,  and  is 
the  source  of  reverent  awe  in  the  minds  of  those 
who  contemplate  the  thought  of  Him.  There  is  a 
vagueness  in  it  wliich  excludes  either  a  dogmatic 
definition  of  His  Divinity,  or  a  merely  humani- 
tarian view  of  His  person.  When  it  occurs  in  the 
JN  1 ,  we  cannot  get  rid  of  it  by  pointing  out  that  it 
simply  means  '  the  Messiah.'  No  doubt  it  means 
t fie  Messiah ;  but  it  connotes  that  in  the  man  who 
claims  to  be  the  Messiah  which  lifts  Him  above 
the  level  of  mankind. 

(1)  We  cannot  draw  any  definite  inference  from  the  use  of  it 
bt/demmiiacs,  or  by  Satan  in  the  Temptation  narrative.  Pro- 
bably, however,  as  the  idea  of  the  'subliminal'  sphere  which 

r  conscious  life  makes  its  way  into  psycho" 

hkely  to  give  weight  to  narratives  which  i 

'esus  there  existe 

them  a  peculiar  and  direct 

their  lips  would  certainly 

He  possessed.        ' di^-it-V  and  power  which 

(2)  Neither  can  we  base  a  doctrinal  proposition  on  the  ex- 
pression l«ed  by  the  high  priest  (SIk  14«i,  Mt  '2663),  for  the 
charge  of  claiming  to  be  'the  Christ'  did  not  earn-  with  it  the 
verdict  of  capital  punishment.  The  addition  '.Son  of  God  'or 
f  /oLL^^^'l'!'"'^'''  '°°'''*  ^''"'  "  <^''"""'-  In  St.  Luke's  narra- 
tive (2266-71)  the  question,  'If  thou  art  the  Christ'  (v. 67)  i, 
separated  from  the  second,  'Art 'thou  then  the  Son  of  God?' 
;^;y'  ^^  ■Ju™^  "''"'V  ^°  I''^'""=  honom-s  (v.69).  The  impression 
made  by  the  scene  is  that  our  Lord's  judges  understood  Him 
to  be  claiming  superhuman  dignity.  This  claim  thev  regarded 
as  blasphemous,  and  it  formed  ipso  facto  the  warrant  of  the 
death  sentence. 

(3)  Peter's  ascription  in  Mt  1616  has  some  doubt  thrown  on  it 
by  the  absence  of  the  clause  'the  Son  of  the  living  God'  from 
the  parallel  passages  in  Mark  and  Luke.     Vet  an  argument 


hology,  r 
3  imply  t 


IXCARXATION 


INCARNATION 


based  on  omissions  is  precarious.  St.  Matthew  had  access  to 
special  sources.  His  version  has  the  ring  of  genuineness ;  and 
it  is  to  be  noted  that  the  benediction  upon  Peter  is  not  found 
in  Mark  and  Luke,  where  the  ascription  of  Sonship  is  also 
awanting.  If,  then,  we  may  accept  the  genuineness  of  the  say- 
ing, we  cannot,  indeed,  attribute  to  Peter  a  doctrine  of  his 
Master's  person  which  he  could  reach  only  through  experience 
of  the  risen  Christ ;  but,  certainly,  we  note  that  he  is  far  in 
advance  of  the  momentary  impression  of  Mt  14^.  He  cannot 
mean  less  than  that  He  to  whom  he  speaks  is  the  Son  of  Je- 
hovah, havinjj  an  intimacy  with  Him  possessed  by  no  other 
man,  revealing  Him  as  no  other  can,  not  even  the  greatest  of 
the  prophets.  Peter  knows  nothinj^  of  dogma,  but  he  has 
flung  the  plummet  of  his  faith  far  into  the  depths  of  his  Master's 
being.  In  that  moment  of  supreme  spiritual  uplift  a  revelation 
has  been  made  to  him  which  will  carry  him  far  in  after  days, 
of  which  the  opening  verses  in  Hebrews  and  the  proloi^ue  to  the 
Fourth  Gospel  will  be  no  more  than  the  adequate  expression. 

(4)  When  we  turn  to  oar  Lord's  own  testimony 
as  to  His  Sonship  toward  God,  we  are  at  once 
lifted  high  above  the  raereljr  official  aspect  of  the 
designation.  In  the  Synoptic  Gospels  He  never 
uses  the  title  '  Son  of  God ' ;  but  His  filial  relation 
toward  God  is  not  for  a  moment  in  question.  A 
son's  devotion  to  his  father,  a  son's  utter  trust  in 
his  father,  a  son's  joyful  intercourse  with  his  father 
— all  these,  raised  to  an  immeasurable  degree,  are 
the  characteristics  of  Jesus'  bearing  toward  God. 
If  the  phrase  had  never  occurred  in  the  OT,  or 
fallen  from  any  human  lips  regarding  Him,  none 
the  less  would  any  sympathetic  view  of  the  Figure 
portrayed  have  yielded  the  inference :  Here  is  a 
man  who  in  very  deed  is  Son  of  God,  in  a  sense  to 
which  no  other  man  ever  attained  or  could  attain. 
The  unique  Sonship  which  Jesus  knew  Himself  to 
possess  gains  e.xpress  utterance  in  three  great  say- 
ings (Mk  1332  nk  [cf.  Lk  <23,^-  "S]  and  Mt  1 1'").  The 
first  of  these  sets  the  rank  of  the  Son  in  a  more 
conspicuous  light,  because  Jesus  is  disclaiming  a 
knowledge  which,  on  the  su|iiiii-i(ii)U  that  He  was 
God's  Son,  it  might  li:ive  linn  .'xpeuted  that  He 
would  possess.  'The  MTdiil  ninrils  the  mystery 
of  the  Passion,  the  piofniiiul  .ureptance  of  tlie 
Father's  purpose  in  the  midst  uf  a  suffering  which 
the  Father  Himself  appoints.  The  tliird,  with  its 
strongly  Johannine  pnrasing,  brings  Jesus  and 
the  F'ather  together  in  unique  mutual  knowledge. 
The  loftiest  Christology  lies  implicit  in  these  words  ; 
and,  in  the  consciousness  which  they  express,  the 
invitation  which  follows,  addressed  to  all  the 
weary  and  heavy  laden,  promising  them  rest,  can 
alone  find  its  warrant.  In  the  Fourth  Gospel 
Jesus  is  represented  as  using  the  exact  phra.se, 
'Son  of  God'  (Jn  5^  O^^  10*'  11^).  In  one  of  these 
passages,  however,  there  is  uncertainty  as  to  the 
correct  reading,  and  in  the  others  the  possibility 
that  the  author  may  have  imported  into  the  narra- 
tive phraseology  of  later  date,  may  lie  admitted. 
But  the  correlative  terms  'the  Father'  and  'the 
Son '  abound  ;  and  no  reader  of  the  Fourth  Gospel, 
whatever  his  critical  views  or  theological  preju- 
dices may  be,  doubts  that  tlie  deep  consciousness 
of  Jesus,  revealed  in  such  utterances  (e.g.  5" 
1030. 38  141.  1721)^  is  that  of  a  Sonshi])  toward  God 
which  belongs  to  Himself  alone  of  all  the  human 
race.  Few,  also,  will  be  found  to  deny  that  the 
representations  of  the  Fourth  Gospel  are  not  in 
excess  of  the  portraiture  of  the  Synoptic  Gospels. 

(5)  The  Divine  attestation.  —  At  the  Baptism 
and  the  Transfiguration  God  solemnly  attested  the 
Divine  Sonship  of  .Jesus  in  words  which  reproduce 
the  language  of  the  OT  (Ps  2',  Is  42>).  It  is  need- 
less to  discuss  the  'objective'  aspect  of  the  com- 
munication. In  any  case,  the  attestation  was 
made  direct  to  the  consciousness  of  Jesus.  The 
language  is  that  of  Mes.sianic  prophecy  ;  but  as  it 
fell  on  Jesus'  inward  ear,  it  was  not  a  mere  certifi- 
cation of  His  Messi.aliship,  but  rather  a  gi-acious 
a.ssurance  of  that  whi.li  iiifiM]>roted  for  Him 
Messiah.ship,  and  m:\.\v  ils  itrhii-veiiient  possible, 
viz.  a  relation  toward  tiuil  which  lay  deep  in  His 


being,  and  was  the  primarj'  element  in  His  self- 
knowledge. 

How,  then,  are  we  to  conceive  the  Sonship  of 
Jesus  toward  God  ?  Let  us  avoid  modem  abstrac- 
tions, -which  were  certainly  not  present  to  the  mind 
of  our  Lord,  or  to  any  of  those  who  came  under  His 
influence  and  have  recorded  their  convictions.  In 
particular,  let  us  not  be  coerced  by  the  supposed 
contrast  between  '  ethical '  and  '  metaphysical,' 
and  by  the  alternative,  which  some  writers  would 
force  upon  us,  of  regarding  the  Divine  Sonship  of 
Jesus  as  being  ethical  merely,  or  of  imputing  to 
Him  a  metaphysical  Sonship  which  is  an  importa- 
tion from  Greek  philosophy.  Ethical  the  Sonship 
of  Jesus  undoubtedly  was.  It  manifested  itself  in 
knowledge  of  God  and  love  to  God,  together  with 
trust  and  obedience  and  other  lovely  qualities  and 


experiences.      The  Sonship  to  wliieh   believers  in 

Him  are  introduced  is  of  this  type 

by  the  same  characteristics.      He  Himself  claims 


lis  type,  and  is  marked 


them  as  His  brethren  (Mk  3^).  But  does  this  mean 
that  He  and  they  are  of  one  cla.ss?  Does  His  Son- 
sliip  ditler  from  theirs  merely  in  degree?  Is  He 
unique  only  in  the  measure  in  which  He  realized 
the  pri\'ileges  of  a  filial  standing,  which,  however, 
belongs  to  men  simply  as  men  ?  Is  this  the  utmost 
impres.sion  that  the  whole  portrait  makes  upon  us  ■; 
It  certainly  was  not  all  that  His  Jewish  auditors 
inferred  fi-om  His  self- witness.  They  declared  that 
He  was  making  Himself  equal  to  God,  and  they 
would  have  killed  Him  for  His  blasphemy  ( Jn  5'* 
859  1031-33).  Were  they  mistaken  ?  He  does  not  say 
so.  His  retort  (lO*^''')  is  no  earnest  disclaimer ; 
rather  is  it  a  reassertion  of  His  essential  unity 
with  God.  Surely  this  Ls  the  impression  we  gain 
from  the  record,  that  along  \nt\\  His  intense  near- 
ness to  men,  there  is  a  note  of  aloofness  from 
tliem  as  of  a  Being  of  another  order.  Surely  there 
are  qualities  in  His  Sonship  that  are  incommuni- 
cable to  men,  aspects  of  it  wliich  can  never  be  found 
in  theirs.  Could  any  of  them  ever  say,  '  I  and  the 
Father  are  one  ? '  Could  it  be  said  o'f  any  one  of 
them,  that  '  to  see  him  was  to  see  the  t'ather ' '; 
It  is  noteworthy,  and  ought  to  be  final  on  this 
subject,  that  Jesus  never  classes  Himself  along  witli 
His  disciples  as  if  He  and  they  were  alike  children 
of  the  Heavenly  Father.  He  distinguishes  Him- 
self as  tlic  Son  from  all  other  sons  of  God  (cf.  Mt 
632  1029  .jviti,  1835  20'^).  They  become  sons.  He  is 
the  Son.  The  correlation  between  'the  Father' 
and  '  the  Son '  is  absolute,  and  excludes  any  other 
son  of  God  from  that  imique  and  perfect  fellowsliip. 
When  we  weigh  these  thinfjs,  the  distinction 
between  ethical  and  metaphysical  becomes  mean- 
ingless. The  Sonship  of  Jesus  has  an  ethical 
uniqueness  which  carries  with  it  essential  relations 
to  God.  His  self -witness  cames  us  to  (equality 
of  being  wth  God.  As  'Son  of  Man'  means 
humanity  in  the  broadest,  truest  sense,  so  '  Son  of 
God '  means  Divinity  in  the  deepest  signification  of 
tlie  term,  whicli  will  require  for  its  statement  and 
defence  the  utmost  range  of  reverent  thought, 
wliile  yet  it  cannot  be  comprehended  or  set  forth  in 
any  formula. 

This  is  the  self- witness  of  Jesus.  He  is  a  Di\-ine 
Being.  His  life  in  time  under  the  conditions  of 
humanity  is  not  His  whole  life.  He  has  come  from 
a  sphere  wherein  He  dwelt  with  God,  a  conscious 
Person  in  equality  with  God.  He  entered  into  this 
world  to  execute  a  purpose  which  involved  His  com- 
plete oneness  with  humanity,  and  a  .sympathetic 
appropriation  of  a  complete  human  experience ; 
He  had  before  Him,  thronghout  His  experience 
as  a  man.  His  return  to  the  abode  which  He  had 
left.  His  regaining  the  jrlnry  wliich,  for  purposes  of 
infinite  love.  He  h.id  j:n.l '.im.Ii'.     He  knew 'that 

he  came   forth  fr (h"1,   .iimI    j;r)cth  unto  God' 

(Jn  13^).     These  were  fan  ^  «  hii  h,  in  the  nature  of 


INCAENATION 


INCARNATION 


805 


the  case,  could  not  be  proved  by  any  external 
evidence.  Sympathetic  nearts  and  open  minds 
would  be  prepared  for  them.  Narrow-minded, 
unspiritual,  and  prejudiced  persons  would  reject 
them.  The  truth  regarding  His  Personality  stands 
or  falls  by  His  own  self-witness :  '  Even  if  I  bear 
witness  of  myself,  my  witness  is  true  ;  for  I  know 
whence  1  came,  and  whither  I  go.'  Or,  if  another 
witness  is  wanted,  there  is  Another  who  witnesses 
along  with  Him,  even  the  Father  in  whom  He 
abides  (Jn  S'--'").  Of  a  mode  of  being  which  He 
had  with  God  antecedent  to  His  earthly  life  He 
could  not  speak  freely.  Necessarily,  He  could  not 
but  observe  the  utmost  reticence  regarding  it. 
Nevertheless,  His  recollection  of  it  was  con- 
tinually with  Him,  and  occasionally,  in  great 
moments,  for  example  in  conflict  with  His  critics, 
or     in     communion    with     His     Father     (Jn    6"- 

858  175.24). 

It  will  be  said  that  this  highest  reach  of  the  self-witness  of 
Jesus  opens  out  into  sheer  mystery  ;  and  attempts  are  continu- 
ally being  made  to  bring  down  the  teaching  of  Jesus  regarding 
Himself  to  the  terms  of  mere  humanity,  with  the  view  of  making 
the  record  more  intelligible,  and  making  Jesus  Himself  more 
accessible  to  our  imaginations.  Such  attempts  wreck  themselves 
througli  over-strenuousness  of  criticism  and  over-ingenuity  of 
exegesis.  Moreover,  tliey  defeat  their  own  end.  If  Jesus  is  no 
more  than  man,  the  Gospel  narrative  is  for  ever  unintelligible  ; 
and  Jesus  Himself  remains  behind  in  the  past,  at  best  a  pathetic 
memory,  at  worst  a  mere  enigma.  The  faith  which  regards 
Jesus  as  'the  only-begotten  Son,'  or  'God  only-begotten'  (Jn 
1^8),  is  a  just  deduction  from  the  narrative  of  His  life  and  from 
His  own  self-witness.  It  supplies,  moreover,  the  explanation 
which  is  wanted  for  the  whole  representation  as  it  is  given  not 
merely  in  the  Fourth  Gospel,  but  in  the  Synoptic  Gospels  as 
well.  The  humanity  of  Jesus,  with  its  completeness  and  univer- 
sality,  could  belong  only  to  One  who  was  Son  of  God  as  well  as 
Son  of  Man.  The  Jlessianic  redemptive  work  of  Jesus,  in  its 
efficacy,  as  sealing  the  new  covenant,  could  be  undertaken  and 
discharged  only  by  One  who  was,  and  knew  Himself  to  be,  the 
Son  of  God. 

C.  The  witness  of  the  Apostles.— The  dis- 
ciples of  Jesus,  even  when  He  was  with  them  as 
their  Master  and  Teacher,  were  not  a  mere  school. 
They  were  a  community,  enjoying  the  unexampled 
privilege  of  fellowship  wii\i  the  most  wonderful 
Personality  which  ever  ini]ivpssed  itself  on  human 
souls.  For  a  brief  spare,  ^\\d^■\\  must  liave  seemed 
an  eternity  of  pain,  tli'N-  tli'>n.L'li(  lie  had  left 
them.  Tlien  He  astouiKli'.l,  rel.iik,'.!,  and  blessed 
jirew'iirr.  Tims  the  disciples 
IS  a  community,  the  secret  of 
.ilitywas  fellow.ship  with  the 
M(l.  This  is  their  experience  : 
lallucination,  dream,  or  vision. 
If  as  they  had  begun  to  know 
Him  as  they  could  ne-\-er  have 
known  Him  liad  He  tarried  througli  lapse  of  years 
in  flesh  among  them.  Now  tliat  He  is  risen  they 
are  less  than  ever  a  scheol  :  ll;ev  .'ire  an  Ecclesia, 
His  Ecclesia,  as  He  ha<l  sai.l  Ilim-ell  (Mt  \&^), 
a  fellowship  of  luiman  Inaii-s,  tin-  liidden  source 
of  whose  pri\-ileges  and  .uifls  is  fellowship  with 
tlie  ever  present  Saviour  and  Head.  To  Him  they 
owed  that  '  loosing '  from  sin  which  the  elaborate 
institutes  of  the  OT  li.ad  failed  to  ac<^omplish  (Rev 
\%  From  Him  they  derived  that  life  which  was 
the  choicest  privilege  of  the  OT,  but  which 
could  not  be  perfectly  possessed  till  God  was  fully 
known  (Jn  17').  Christianity  as  it  is  presented  in 
the  NT  is  life  in  fellowship  with  Jesus  Christ. 
Such  an  experience  cannot  be  stationary.  It  must 
be  a  growth  in  the  grace  and  the  knowledge  of  Jesus 
Christ.  The  NT  throbs  and  thrills  with  life,  ex- 
ultant, buoyant,  hopeful  ;  expanding,  deepening, 
increasing  in  energy  ;  not  without  weaknesses,  re- 
lapses, defects  ;  but  ever  correcting  its  faults, 
cleansing  its  stains,  renewing  its  vitality  through 
fellowship  with  Christ,  who  is  its  unfailing  source. 
It  is  important  to  remind  ourselves  that  the 
primary  fact  in  the  NT  is  an  experience  living 
and  increasing  ;  lest  we  be  tempted  to  go  to  it  as 


them  by  His  ri 

were  reeonstihii 
whose  nuil  \-  ;iii 
unseen  yel  li\  ii 
Christ  is  risen  ; 
but  the  Lord  H 
Him,  and  now  kn 


to  a  volume  of  philosophy,  or  a  systematic  state- 
ment of  theology,  demanding  from  it  intellectual 
completeness,  and  feel  proportionately  disappointed 
if  it  provide  not  an  answer  to  every  question  which 
may  rise  in  our  minds.  Such  a  doctrinaire  view, 
whether  held  by  the  destructive  critic  or  the  con- 
structive theologian,  is  erroneous  and  misleading. 
The  NT  is  experimental  to  its  core,  and  is  funda- 
mentally a  witness  borne  to  Him  with  whom  be- 
lievers are  united  in  an  ever-increasing  fellowship. 
'  That  which  we  have  seen  and  heard  declare  we 
unto  you  also,  that  ye  also  may  have  fellowship 
with  us  :  ^c.i,  and  .  lur  fellowship  IS  with  the  Father, 
and  with  his  Si.u  .lowus  Christ'  (1  Jn  P).  When, 
according;!)  ,  «e  apiiroach  the  records  of  this  testi- 
mony, we  antiiipate  that  the  notes  of  experience 
will  be  fouiul  in  it,  viz.  (a)  variety,  created  by 
differences  in  the  spiritual  history  of  the  individual 
writers,  as  well  as  by  differences  in  the  occasion 
and  circumstances  of  their  writing ;  (b)  develop- 
ment throughout  the  whole  period  covered  by  the 
NT  literature,  the  earlier  stages  being  marked  by 
attention  mainly  to  the  conspicuous  activities  of 
the  risen  Saviour,  the  later  being  characterized  by 
a  deeper  iusiijlit  into  the  personal  relations  of 
Christ  til  (e>il  ,111.1  to  man  and  to  the  world ;  (c) 
unity,  fuiKlaiiieiitally  the  same  view  of  Christ  being 
present  in  all  the  writings,  earlier  and  later,  inas- 
much as  all  Christian  experience,  in  its  origin  as 
well  as  in  its  progress,  is  rooted  and  grounded  in 
the  same  almignty  Saviour,  the  same  exalted  Lord. 
The  witness  may  be  briefly  summarized  as  fol- 
lows. 

i.  The  earlier  chapters  in  the  Acts  of  the 
Apostles. — In  the  midst  of  much  critical  dis- 
cussion of  these  chapters,  it  can  scarcely  be  ques- 
tioned that  they  reproduce,  with  substantial  truth, 
the  type  of  life  and  teaching  in  the  primitive 
Church ;  and  give  us  '  a  Christology  which  must 
have  come  from  a  primitive  source'  (Knowling, 
Testimony  of  St.  Paul  to  Christ,  p.  171).  How, 
then,  did  Peter  and  his  associates  preach  Christ? 

Three  points  seem  plain.  (1)  They  lay  the  basis  of  the  gospel 
in  the  humanity  of  Christ.  They  do  not  grudgingly  admit  His 
humanity,  as  though  it  presented  an  intellectual  difficulty ; 
nor  do  they  dogmatically  insist  on  it,  as  though  it  had  been 
denied  by  some  Docetic  scheme.  They  use  His  human  name. 
They  dwell  on  His  human  life  and  character.  He  whom  they 
preach  as  the  Christ  is  the  Jesus  of  that  historic  past  which  is 
so  fresh  in  their  memories,  so  lovely  in  their  hearts.  Upon 
what  He  had  been  and  done  as  a  man,  all  that  He  now  is  and 
accomplishes  is  founded  (2.^^  S"!  4i«  lOas).— (2)  They  set  the  fact 
of  the  Resurrection  in  the  forefront  of  their  preaching.  That 
event  carries  the  weight  of  the  greatest  doctrines  of  the  faith. 
This  is  the  message  which  conveys  the  glory  of  God's  accom- 
plished purjiose  of  mercy:  'He  is  risen;  we  arc  witnesses' 
(225  :fj),  xhe  Resurrection  is  not  merely  the  miracle  of  a  dead 
man  raised.  It  is  a  great  historic  act  on  the  part  of  God,  who 
hereby  authenticates  the  mission  and  vindicates  the  claims  of 
Jesus.  It  is  not  merely  that  Jesus  survives  a  tragedy.  Through 
death  He  passes  to  a  higher  seat  than  that  of  His  father  David, 
even  the  throne  of  the  Divine  Majesty  (2M  631  755).  in  doing 
this  for  Jesus,  God  did  not  take  a  mere  man  and  make  Him 
what  a  man  cannot  be,  or  set  Him  where  a  man  could  not 
breathe.  Jesus  is  placed  in  the  position  which  is  His  by  right, 
to  which  His  person  perfectly  corresponds.  The  earliest  preach- 
ing is  in  complete  harmony  with  Ito  l*.  The  idea  of  pre-exist- 
ence,  though  not  expUcitly  stated,  is  one  of  the  implications  of 
this  teaching,  even  as  it  is  of  the  Synoptic  portraiture.— (3) 
They  apply  to  Him  titles  which  describe  Him  as  the  fulfilment 
of  the  highest  reach  of  OT  prophecy,  and  carry  with  them,  in 
some  instances,  a  distinctly  Divine  rank  of  being  :  Messiah,  in 
Jesus'  own  interpretation  of  Messiah  and  His  mission  (S'S^O 
425-28)  ;  f^ord  (121  23''-'6  1036),  i.e.  the  OT  name  of  Jehovah,  which 
could  be  borne  only  by  a  Divine  being,  though,  it  may  well  be, 
the  theological  bearings  of  such  ascription  were  not  fully  pre- 
sent to  their  minds ;  ProphH  (3=2),  Saviour  (531  41=),  Pnnce 
(Ufx-ni!,  521  315),  Servant  (3i3. 26  427.  .10,  cf.  832.  to),  with  evident 
reference  to  the  Serv.ant  of  the  Lord  in  Deutero-Isaiah  :  Holy  or 
Righteous  One  (22'  42'-  3"  ?M  752),  Son  of  God  (920),  a  title  used 
in  this  place  only,  vet  significantly,  as  a  current  description  of 
preaching  the  gospel.— (4)  They  dwell  on  certain  present  func- 
tions and  activities,  exercised  by  the  exalted  Saviour.  He 
bestows  the  Spirit  (233.1'*).  He  grants  the  forgiveness  of  sins 
(23S  319  6)1)  He  operates  in  miracles  of  healing  (316  410),  the 
condition  on  the  human  side  being  faith  in  His  name.  He  is 
the  Source  of  Salvation  (412).  To  Him,  therefore,  the  preachers 
invite  their  hearers  to  come.    They  insist,  however,  on  repent- 


INCARNATION 


INCARNATION 


aiice,  not  merely  of  sin  in  general,  but  of  the  specific  guilt  of 
His  death  (3'3-15),  and  they  require  faith  as  an  act  of  personal 
trust  in  Him  (10«).— (5)  They  announce  His  return,  at  the 
completion  of  the  Messianic  period,  for  judgment  (3'-l  10-12). 
This  announcement  gave  a  distinctive  character  to  the  preach- 
ing ;  and  rendered  it  not  so  much  '  an  argument  as  to  certain 
truths,*  as  'the  proclamation  of  a  message'  (S.  Mathews,  The 
ifessianic  Hope  in  the  NT,  p.  145).  None  the  less  it  bore,  as 
its  heart  and  centre,  the  truth  of  the  Lord's  superhuman 
personal  dignity. 

The  Divinity  of  Christ  is  not  discussed  by  these 
missionary  preachers.  They  are  concerned  with 
the  facts  regarding  Christ,  His  power,  His  pro- 
raises,  His  benefits.  They  do  not  unfold  the 
doctrine  of  His  person  which  is  implied  in  their 
statements :  their  own  conceptions  of  it  were, 
probably,  at  a  very  early  stage  of  development. 
They  held  and  taught  such  things  regarding  Him 
as  implied  that  conception  of  Christ  whicii  was 
set  forth  by  later  teachers.  Those  brethren  who 
wrote  at  a  later  date,  and  more  explicitly,  were 
not  moving  away  from  the  historic  Christ.  They 
were,  rather,  getting  nearer  to  Him,  and  seeing 
Him  more  clearly,  than  had  been  possible  to  those 
who  bore  their  witness  at  an  earlier  period. 

ii.  The  minor  Cheistologie.s.— Some  NT  writ- 
ings have  scarcely  advanced  beyond  the  point  of 
view  of  the  Acts.  They  are  mainly  occupied  vn.t\\ 
the  saving  functions  of  tlie  Messiah,  and  do  not 
enter  deeply  into  the  consideration  of  His  Person. 
Witli  respect  to  the  simplest  of  them,  however,  it 
remains  true  that  the  place  of  Jesus  in  religious 
experience  is  central  and  supreme.  He  is  the 
object  of  faitli,  the  source  of  every  spiritual  bless- 
ing. 

1.  James. — His  Epistle  has  sometimes  been  ani- 
madverted on  as  though  it  were  little  better  than 
Jewish-Christian.  We  may  content  ourselves  with 
Hort's  more  generous  estimate :  '  Unlike  as  it  is 
to  the  other  books  of  the  NT,  it  chiefly  illustrates 
Judaistic  Christianity  by  total  freedom  from  it ' 
{Judaistic  Christianity,  p.  151).  We  may  refer 
also  to  Dr.  Patrick's  recent  volume,  James,  the 
LwtPs  Brother,  p.  98  ff. 

The  doctrinal  scheme  of  the  Epistle  is  very  smiple,  and  deeply 
religious.  God  is  the  absolutely  good  One  (15-  I'i- 17).  Man  is 
made  in  His  image  (39),  and  is  meant  to  be  separate  from  the 
world  (1«),  and  wholly  given  up  to  God  (I'S).  Sin  is  the  for- 
swearing of  this  allegiance,  and  the  choice  of  the  world  instead 
of  God,  and  leads  to  death  (!"■  15).  For  men,  under  the  power 
of  sin,  deliverance  lies  in  the  act  of  God,  who  quickens  them 
into  a  new  life.  This  He  effects  by  His  word  (liS-  21)  ;  and  this 
word  comes  through  the  mediation  of  Christ,  by  whom  the  old 
law  is  transformed  into  a  new  law,  a  roval  law,  a  law  of  libertv 
(28- 12).  Christ,  accordingly,  is  the  Saviour  to  whom  we  owe  our 
salvation.  He  is  the  object  of  saving  faith,  which  we  must  not 
belie  by  any  inconsistent  life  (21). 

To  St.  James,  as  to  all  Christians,  Jesiis  is  also 
Lord,  ranked  along  with  Jehovali  in  lionour  and 
dignity  (1' 2').  To  Him  belongs  'the  honourable 
name'  (2').  He  will  shortly  come  for  judgment 
(5*- ").  Dorner's  summary  'is  borne  out  by  the 
whole  Epistle :  '  Both  in  soteriological  and  in 
Chri.stological  form,  James  acknowledges  the 
absoluteness  of  the    Christian    religion  '   ISiistcm, 

■   -   p._159), 


vol. 


2.  The  First  Epistle  of  Peter.— There  is  distinct 
advance  in  this  Epistle  beyond  the  statements  in 
St.  Peter's  speeches  reported  in  the  Acts,  though 
even  yet  the  Christology  is  not  so  rich  and  full  as 
in  St.  Paul  or  St.  John.  The  sinlessness  of  Jesus 
is  clearly  stated  (1"  2==)  ;  and  this  gives  an  impres- 
sion of  the  Personality  of  Christ  which  is  incon- 
sistent with  a  merely  humanitarian  view  of  His 
person.  The  death"  of  Christ,  whicli  had  once 
oftended  Peter,  but  which  in  his  preaching  he  had 
declared  to  be  part  of  Messiah's  redemptive  work, 
he  now  {;lories  in  as  the  ground  of  salvation,  and 
he  describes  it  in  its  atoning  efficacy  with  rich 
variety  of  phrase — covenant  blood  ( 1-),  ransom  (I""- ), 
sin-bearing  (2»"'-),  substitution  (S'").  One  who 
ascribed  such  efficacy  to  the  death  of  Christ  must 


have  taken  an  exalted  view  of  His  Person.  Lord- 
ship in  the  usual  Christian  sense  is  ascribed  to  Him 
(P  013315)  Sonship  toward  God  is  implied  in  1^. 
Kesurrection,  exaltation,  supremacy  have  their 
wonted  place  in  St.  Peter's  thoughts,  as  in  all 
Christian  faith  (1-'  3~).  The  wording  of  1"  and 
1="  scarcely  allows  us  to  regard  these  passages  as 
distinctly  teaching  a  personal  i^re-existence  of 
Christ,  although  such  an  interpretation  of  them  is 
certainly  legitimate,  and  is,  besides,  much  more 
characteristic  of  St.  Peter's  non-speculative  cast  of 
mind  than  the  ideal  pre-existence  which  is  held 
by  some  interpreters  to  be  the  meaning.  In  any 
case,  Christ  is  to  St  Peter  a  Being  far  more  than 
man  or  angel ;  and  this  means,  since  the  thought  of 
a  demi-god  is  impossible  to  a  Jewish  monotheist, 
that  St.  Peter  placed  his  Lord  side  by  side  with 
Jehovah,  sharer  with  God  in  Divine  rank  and 
worship.  This  he  did  \vith  the  memory  full  and 
clear  within  him  of  his  Master's  human  life.  Tliat 
St.  Peter,  who  so  often  sjioke  frankly  and  plainly 
to  Jesus,  and  once  rebuked  Him  and  once  denied 
Him,  should  have  come  to  adore  Him  as  Divine, 
is  a  fact  most  wonderful,  and  fraught  with  far- 
reaching  consequences. 

3.  Jnde  and  2  Peter In  these  brief  and,  from 

many  points  of  \'iew,  difficult  writings,  there  is  no 
Christological  discussion.  Both  Epistles,  however, 
assume  the  Lordship  of  Christ,  and  look  forward  to 
His  coming  as  Judge.  In  2  P  1-,  He  is  conjoined 
with  the  Father  as  the  object  of  religious  know- 
ledge ;  and  in  the  jprevious  verse  He  is  described  as 
'  our  (3od  and  Saviour  Jesus  Christ' 

4.  Apocalypse. — Whatever  view  we  take  of  the 
composition  of  this  book,  the  key  to  which  has  so 
long  been  mislaid,  there  is  no  doubt  that  its  pages 
glow  mth  the  glory  of  Jesus.  It  contains  abundant 
recollections  of  the  human  life  of  Jesus  (e.q.  5'  22"* 
21"  ll^).  It  is  the  exalted,  glorified,  victorious 
Lord,  however,  who  chiefly  fills  the  seer's  gaze. 
To  Him  the  writer  desires  the  eyes  of  the  perse- 
cuted Church  to  turn,  that  she  may  be  certified  of 
her  \'indication  and  reward  at  the  hand  of  Him 
whom  she  adores. 

He  is  included  in  the  sacred  Threefold  source  of  blessing  (lin). 
The  radiant  Figure  of  tlie  vision  in  112-20,  whose  self-designations 
are  'the  first  and  the  last'  and  'the  Living  one,'  to  whom 
belong  '  the  keys  of  death  and  of  Hades,'  is  no  mere  earthly 
Being  who  has  undergone  apotheosis.  He  is  a  Divine  being, 
who  came  out  of  eternity,  entered  into  time,  and  on  earth 
suffered  and  died,  and  now,  within  the  unseen  world,  lives 
and  reigns  as  God  ;  who,  also,  will  one  dav  return  for  judgment 
(1414-11, -2220).  He  is  on  the  Throne  (321  717  125  ■221-  3).  Worship 
is  paid  to  Him  as  God  (710  612. 8).  He  is  the  Son  of  God,  as  none 
other  ran  be  (16  227  32I).  He  is  a  pre-existent  and  eternal 
Heins-(117  18  3U  216  221');  such  is  the  interpretation  which  is 
retiuired  bv  these  passages  in  ^iew  of  the  Christolog.v  of  the 
book  as  a  'whole.  Sno  disru-ssiou  in  Stevens,  pn.  638-540.  To 
Him  belongs  tii'-  inconininnii-ililc  Nanii-  f::i-  nil-),  it  is  impos- 
sible to  exagi.'(-r:(tr  tli.j  siunliir:,!!.-..  <ir  iht'  .^do^ation  of  Jesus 
which  pervades  nil  tin-    NT    hit  rnim-i  ,    ind  is  so  intense  and 

sincere  in  this  1 l^.     'Alt! -h  lli-  \\r-i:rr  is  pl.-iinly  a  Jew  of 

Jews,  hi--  Drrhl   ^."n-i'.'l  -iM,   M- '  r-. '■  !■'.  r-it'iri-  nnrl  Hebrew 


knoun  111  the  lle^ll,  M.lein  Mdu  vMiii  i^iml'  (0.  A.  .SijijiL,  TkeBook 
of  the  Rcvdatiun,  p.  27).  " 

The  NT  books  are  not  efforts  of  solitary  thinkers 
evolving  schemes  out  of  their  inner  consciousness. 
The  Christian  EcclcMa,  llir  fellowship  of  Christ, 
the  communion  of  ^.•lillt<  IimiI  liy  such  thoughts 
and  spiritual  activitii  v  ,1,  tin  -r.  It's  members  knew 
nothing  of  the  subtli-lics  of  ],iist->Jicene  Christo- 
logy ;  but  they  kneAv  Jesus,  the  Lamb  of  God,  who 
died  for  them,  the  Living  Lord  in  whose  right  hand 
were  seven  stars,  who  walked  amid  the  candlesticks. 

iii.  The  Cheistology  of  St.  Paul.— 


Paul's  Christology  in  the  outcome  of  his  experience. 


i-HCARNATION 


INCARNATION 


80? 


iiinplcst,  most  obvious, 
he  truest.  Attempts  to 
assimilate  St.  Paul's  sight  of  Ciirist  on  the  road  to  Damascus 
with  ecstatic  experiences,  which  he  also  records,  betray,  by 
their  very  ingenuitv,  the  a  priori,  assumption  that  a  fully  objec- 
tive revelation  of 'the  kind  alleged  is  impossible.  St.  Pauls 
sight  of  Christ  was  of  the  same  nature  as  that  by  which  the 
faith  of  the  Eleven  was  first  established.  If  the  '  vision  hypoth- 
esis'  does  not  do  justice  to  the  facts  in  their  case,  neither  wil 
it  account  for  the  sudden  and  complete  revolution  which  took 
place  in  the  life  of  St.  Paul.  That  he  had  seen  the  Risen  Christ, 
in  the  same  sense,  with  the  same  convincrag  'objectivity, 
Peter  had  seen  Hiin,  is  the 
Apostl 


Believers  in  Christ  enter  upon  the  status  of  sons  of  God,  and  St. 
Paul  even  calls  them  ulc,  while  St.  John  uses  only  the  term 
Tf«v«.  But  among  such  sons  of  God  Christ  is  not  one.  He 
stands  alone.  They  become  sons.  He  is  the  Son  (Ro  &■  3-,  Gal 
4-*).    This  Sonship  is  the  very  essence  of  Christ's  being.     '^ 


St.  Paul  I 


Divinity 


of  Paul's  authority 
J  his  Christian  faith.  It 
warrants  the  utmost  and'the  greatest  which  Paul  can  ever  say 
regarding  the  wonderful  being  of  his  Lord.  From  that  date, 
the  hour  when  he  heard  the  word-s  '  I  am  Jesus,'  he  had  been  in 
Christ.'  Christ  had  been  a  present  reality  to  him,  and  out  ot 
his  fellowship  with  Christ  had  come  every  grace  of  his  character, 
every  privilege  of  his  soul,  everv  activity  of  his  career.  'That  1 
may  know  him'  (Ph  S'O)  is  the  passion  of  his  life,  and  his 
so-called  'Christology'  is  not  a  philosophy  of  the  'logos,  or 
'avatar,"  or  any  otlier  type.  It  is  the  testimony  he  bears, 
incidentally,  as  the  needs  of  his  converts  demand,  to  the  Christ 
whom  he  knows. 

(6)  St.  Paul's  conception  ot  Christ  does  not  stand  wholly 
apart  from  the  views  entertained  by  the  primitive  Church. 
His  experience,  remarkable  as  it  was,  did  not  differ  in  kind  from 
that  of  other  believers.  The  Church  was  from  the  beginning  a 
feUowship  with  Christ.  Every  member  of  it  is  united  to  Christ 
by  faith.  There  were  others  who  had  been  '  in  Christ '  before 
St.  Paul  had  gained  that  blessed  privUege  (Ro  16'').  The  know- 
ledge which  he  possessed  of  Christ  was  common  to  the  fellow- 
ship of  believers,  and  had  been  theirs  while  Paul  was  raging 
against  the  Church  in  persecuting  fury.  In  fact,  it  was  precisely 
the  lofty  claims  advanced  by  the  disciples  of  the  Nazarene  on 
behalf  of  their  Master,  which  called  the  young  zealot  to  destroy 
a  movement  which  he  saw  clearly  was  an  invasion  of  the  supre- 
macy, not  of  Cffisar,  but  of  Jehovah.  When,  in  later  days,  he 
himself  is  glorying  in  the  lofty  attributes  and  Divine  dignity  of 
Christ,  he  is  well  aware  that  he  is  setting  forth  no  novelties,  but 
is  speaking  out  of  the  fulness  of  a  personal  knowledge  possessed 
by  his  readers  as  well  as  by  himself.  Dr.  Sanday's  words,  com- 
menting on  1  Th  11,  are  most  memorable :  'An  elaborate  process 
of  reflexion,  almost  a  system  ot  theology,  lies  behind  those 
familiar  terms.'  Dr.  Knowling's  weighty  and  balanced  state- 
ment ought  to  be  borne  in  mind  by  every  student  ot  St.  Paul's 
thought :  'The  evidence  to  be  gathered  from  the  Apostle's  own 
writings  is  not  to  be  judged  as  if  it  was  only  ot  a  reflective  char- 
acter upon  the  events  of  the  life  of  Jesus  seen  through  a  long 
retrospect  ot  years  :  in  some  particulars  it  carries  us  up  to  the 
earliest  period  of  the  existence  of  the  Christian  Church ;  in 
other  particulars  it  is  plainly  incidental,  it  is  used  as  occasion 
demands,  and  it  justifies  the  inference  that  it  has  behind  it  a 
large  reserve  ot  early  teaching  and  tradition'  (Testimony,  etc., 
r-  211)-  ,       ,       J  ■    .,■ 

(c)  To  say  that  St.  Paul's  Christology  is  more  developed  in  his 
later  Epistles  than  in  his  eariier,  is  only  to  note  the  fact  that  his 
personal  acquaintance  with  Christ  grew  richer  as  the  years  ot 
his  inner  life  and  of  his  missionary  activity  passed  over  him. 
But  this  advance  was  not  determined  by  accretions  from 
without.  He  had  not  to  wait  till  theosophical  speculation 
suggested  it  to  him  before  he  ascribed  the  loftiest,  most  com- 
prehensive  position  and  dignity  to  Christ.  Such  ascription  be- 
longs to  his  eariier  as  well  as  to  his  later  writings.  Prof  Bacon 
has  strongly  emphasized  the  presence  ot  Paul's  later  thoughts 
•in  a  partly  developed  form  in  the  eariier  Epistles '  (Story  of  St 
Pmd,  p.  208) ;  and  Dr.  Knowling's  great  work,  already  referred 
to,  is  largely  devoted  to  an  illustration  of  this  fact  {e.g.  pp.  48, 
90f.,  206,  2nf.,  502). 

1,  Christ  in  His  relation  to  God.— (1)  He  is  n 

Divine.  Being. St.  Paul  is  an  OT  believer,  utterly 
removed  from  polytheism,  and  wholly  incapable  of 
believing  in  demi-gods.  He  is  not  a  Greek  philos- 
opher ;  impersonal  abstractions  or  principles  have 
no  meaning  for  him.  He  of  whom  he  speaks  is 
'Christ,'  which  with  St.  Paul  is  a  proper  name, 
the  official  designation  being  lost  in  the  personal 
appellative.  If,  then,  he  ascribes  to  Christ  the 
qualities  which  a  Jewish  monotheist,  a  member  of 
the  Old  Covenant,  attributed  to  Jehovah,  he  can 
mean  nothing  else  than  that  this  same  ])erson, 
Jesus  Christ,  is  a  Divine  Being,  equal  with  God 
and  one  with  God. 


side  of  His  being  He  is  linked 
;  and  St.  Paul  has  ample  knowledge  of  the  facts  of 
man  life,  and  shows  no  want  ot  interest,  and  still  less 
xnce,  in  referring  to  them.  How  should  he,  when  it 
ain  business  as  a  missionary  to  prove  that  this  very 
the  Son  of  God'f    On  the  other  side  of  His  being. 


(a)  He  attributes  Lordship  1 
title  'Lord'  habitually  in  .  .mii 
Bonal  names  'Jesus'  and  ■'  : 
is  used  in  the  sense  in   win 


it  has  the 

accordingly,  whi  _  .    .  _       ^ 

(Ro  10",  1  Co  1022).     To  the  Lord,  therefore,  as  to  Ood, 

ship  is  offered,  and  prayers  are  addressed  hv  St.  Paul  and  by 

all  Christians  (2  Co  128,  i  Co  12,  Ro  lO").    (b)  He  designates 

Christ  as  'the  Son  of  God.'    The  teaching  of  St.  Paul  on  this 

subject  is  in  harmony  with    the   other  NT   representations. 


(Ro  11  ■').  St.  Paul's  Christianity  centres  in  this  Divine  Sonship 
of  Christ  (Gal  &«,  Eph  413).  it  was  no  invention  of  his  brain,  no 
borrowing  from  pagan  adulation  of  the  Emperor.  It  was  the 
centre  of  Christianity  as  such,  and  belongs  to  the  very  earliest 
period  ot  which  we  have  literary  record,  being  implied  in 
1  Th  11.  The  faith  in  Christ  as  Son  of  God  is  the  differentia  of 
Christianity.  They  are  Christians  who  think  ot  Jesus  Christ 
'  as  of  God '  (i;  mp)  tiou),  and  so  thinking  they  name  Him,  as 
St.  Paul  did, 'God' (Ro  95). 

(2)  He  is  one  with  the  Father.— 1\\e.  relation 
of  the  Divine  Christ  to  the  Godhead  became  an 
insoluble  problem  for  subsequent  thought.  Let 
the  presupposed  conception  of  God  be  abstract 
simplicity  and  unity.  Let  Him  be  conceived  as 
Pure  Being,  Pure  Form,  Pure  Thought,  the  Idea, 
or  Substance.  Then  let  tlie  claim  be  advanced  on 
behalf  of  a  historic  person  tliat  he  is  God.  The 
result  will  be  a  problem  which,  in  the  nature  of 
the  case,  must  be  insoluble.  With  such  a  Deity, 
the  Divinity  of  the  historic  Christ  is  utterly  incom- 
patible. Christ  must  be  lowered  to  the  rank  of  a 
demi-god,  or  He  must  be  etherialized  into  an  im- 
personal principle. 

Suppose,  however,  that  God  be  differently  con- 
ceived ;  in  that  case  the  claim  of  Divinity  ad- 
vanced on  behalf  of  one  who  lived  a  human  life 
may  not  lead  to  intellectual  impossibilities.  It  is 
certain,  however,  that  neither  St.  Paul  nor  any 
other  NT  writer  held  any  such  speculative  idea  of 
God  as  was  prevalent  in  Greek  Philosophy.  To 
the  men  of  the  NT,  God  was  the  God  of  the  OT, 
the  living  God,  a  Person,  loving,  energizing,  seek- 
ing the  accomplishment  of  an  everlasting  purpose 
of  mercy,  the  satisfaction  of  His  own  loving  nature. 
When,  accordingly,  the  facts  of  the  character  and 
claims  and  resurrection  of  an  historic  person  com- 
pelled them  to  recognize  Him  as  Divine,  they  were 
constrained  greatly  to  enlarge  their  thought  of 
God  ;  but  they  were  saved  the  labour  of  stretching 
a  logical  formula  to  cover  facts  wholly  irreconcilable 
with  it,  for  the  simple  reason  that  no  such  formula 
had  any  place  in  their  thoughts.  They  set  the 
Divine  Christ  side  by  side  with  the  Divine  Father, 
and  thus  found  a  manifoldness  in  the  being  of  God 
which  did  not  destroy  its  unity.  St.  Paul,  there- 
fore, includes  Christ  in  the  Divine  circle  (1  Th  3"-", 
2Th  2"*-",  1  Co  8«,  2  Co  l.S").  'Abstract  mono- 
theism' has  ceased,  and  has  been  'replaced  by  a 
Theism  which  iinds  within  the  one  Godhead  room 
for  both  Father  and  Son '  (Fairbairn,  Place  of  Christ, 
p.  309).  Perhaps  it  would  be  more  correct  to  say 
that  the  monotheism  of  the  OT  was  never  abstract, 
because  the  God  of  the  OT  was  never  a  conception, 
or  a  substance,  but  always  a  Person.  Personality, 
indeed,  has  never  the  bare  unity  of  a  monad.  It 
always  makes  room  for  distinctions ;  and  reachc.^ 
its  greatest  wealth  of  meaning  in  the  fellowship  ot 
person  with  person.  Between  an  abstraction  and  a 
historic  person  there  can  be  no  unity.  Between  two 
historic  persons  there  may  be  unity  of  the  pro- 
foundest  kind.  St.  Paul,  moreover,  is  not  thinking 
of  a  mere  quantitative  enuiA'alence  between  the 
Divine  Christ  and  God.  He  is  true  to  the  concep- 
tion of  Sonship.  The  relation  of  Christ  to  the 
Father  is  that  of  a  real  son,  including  dependence 
and  subordination  (1  Co  3^  11»  15=^-=»).  To  the  Son, 
as  reward  of  obedience,  is  given  a  glory  and  a  fulness 
which  enable  Him  to  fullil  His  mediatorial  function 


INCAENATION 


IKCARKATION 


(Pli  2»-",  Ro  U'J,  Col  l'").  This,  however,  in  no 
sense  lovers  the  Divine  bein"  of  the  Son,  or  shuts 
Him  out  of  the  Godhead,  llie  glory  He  had  with 
the  Father  from  eternity,  and  the  glory  gained  as 
He  returns  to  the  Fatlier,  are  not  inconsistent. 
Without  the  former,  indeed,  the  latter  would  be 
impossible. 

2.  Christ  in  His  relation  to  mankind. — (1)  Pre- 
incanuite. — The  Being  who  thus  existed  fiom 
eternity  as  God  has  affinities  in  His  very  nature 
with  men.  Had  He  been  a  demi-god,  a  tertium 
quid,  the  passage  from  Him  to  us  and  from  us  to 
Him  wonlil  liave  been  impossible.  It  may  seem  an 
iimeiuo\i^  plan  to  eft'ect  the  union  of  God  and  man 
l.y  in>.itiii-  between  them  a  being  who  is  neither 
(iucl  ii'u  nian.  Really,  it  makes  the  problem 
insoluble.  St. (Paul  knows  nothing  of  the  snp- 
posed  dilierences  between  the  Divine  and  the  huni;i  n 
natures  which  make  a  tertium  quid  apjjear  nen  ~ 
sary  to  bring  them  together.  God  and  mjii 
resemble  one  anotiier  in  tln-ii  .v.ii  fitiifi'm  as 
personal  beings.  The  problem  :.  >  n  <  .  liijiun 
and  of  philosophy  is  to  bring  ('"    /    :  -^'tlier, 

not  to  force  two  disparate  nature-,  iiiin  .m  unreal 
unity.  This  problem,  the  problem  ot  tiie  human 
spirit,  is  solved  in  the  Person  of  Christ.  The 
heart  of  His  eternal  being  is  Sonship.  He  lives 
in  a  filial  relation  toward  (iod,  and  upon  the  model 
of  that  relati. . I, -!;;,, -,,,,.  ,-  K-nned  (Gal  4^-",  Ro  S^^). 

Our  very  exi-i< ■  n  Ilim  (1  Co8^).   What 

we  are  to  hr  i  :  ■  i :  !  liv  what  He  is  (Eph  l-* 
2'").  Thedei'iirM  i<  Ln  i,,ii-  ..i  man  to  man  find  their 
guarantee  in  the  relations  in  which  He  stands  to 
God  and  to  man  (I  Co  IP,  Eph  5"-'").  Even  before 
the  fulness  of  time  He  was  not  utterly  unconnected 
with  the  problem  of  redemption.  So,  at  least,  we 
may  interpret  the  mystic  utterance  of  1  Co  10'' 
•^  tr^Tpa  Si  fiv  6  Xpurris.  This  Rock,  the  fountain  of 
life  for  the  Church  of  the  wilderness,  was  the 
Christ,  not  as  an  idea  but  as  a  person.  Thus  St. 
Paul  conceives  of  Christ  .is  existing  in  these  past 
centuries,  fulfiUin"  the  functions  for  the  Church 
which  then  was,  wiiich  He  now  fulfils  for  the  new 
Ecclesia  (cf.  .Jn  1^). 

(2)  Incarnate. — The  Son  is  a  real  person,  wlio 
conceives,  purposes,  acts.  '  Before  the  foundation 
of  the  world '  He  bad  assumed  the  vocation  of  Re- 
deemer, constrained  tlun-tn  by  the  love  which  is 
the  essence  of  tin-  ni\  inc  n.iluie.     When  the  time 

comes,  in  Gods  .li-ci]ilii f  the  raee,  He  takes  up 

His  task,  whieh  reiinires  tor  its  fulfilment  incarna- 
tion, the  complete  identification  of  Himself  with 
men  in  life  and  in  death.  In  two  jnegnant  pas- 
sages St.  Paul  sets  forth  this  deed  of  wonder,  in 
whose  depths  thought  and  feeling'  lose  themselves, 
Ph  2=-",  2Co_8».  Three  sta.yes  ,,f  il,..  ],i,tory  of 
Christ  are  indicated,  so  far  .as  lnini:in  im  nination 
can  frame  to  itself  a  record  -  >  ii  /n.  (i.)  A 
person.  Divine  in  His  being,  enjoviu;^  iIr  lunn  and 
circumstance  of  Godhead,  rich  in  the  glory  which 
is  the  manifestation  of  tlie  Divine  nature ;  cf.  Jn 
17^  He  P.  (ii.)  This  Divine  Being  surrendering 
that  form  and  that  wealth,  assuming  a  form  the 
most  opposite  conceivable,  that  of  a  servant, 
revealing  Himself  to  men  in  their  likeness,  so  that 
His  humanity  is  no  phantom,  while  yet  it  is  not 
His  by  mere  accident  of  birth,  but  is  acquired  in 
an  act  of  will  which  extends  to  the  assumption  of 
man's  condition  as  a  sinner,  exposed  to  sin's  sign 
and  seal,  even  death,  (iii.)  This  same  person  raised 
from  the  dead,  and  receiving  as  a  gift  from  the 
Father  what  He  had  not  grasped  at,  namely, 
equality  with  God  in  form  and  circumstance,  and 
the  name  which  corresponds  to  that  rank  and 
honour,  so  that  to  this  Being,  known  now  tlirough 
His  huma^iity  as  Jesus,  there  should  be  rendered 
the  worship  of  all  intelligent  creatures  throughout 
the  universe  of  God. 


sta^'e  of  Christ's  career 

Ui.ir  •!  '  yi' '''I'-iti  r>f  Ihf'  '^'^n-:fittition  of  His  Person  presses  most 
.-11  111  ■;  I.       ■II-  1-1-    -1,-1     111--  ri-lation  of  His  Divinity  to  His 

111-  1  ,        1  I      ,ij  l<)  His  personality  as  a  human 

li-iii-,  --1  111-  ..-  iiMiii-  111  111--  i1l-s1i  to  His  contemporaneous 
acu\  ua-»  in  Uic  Lui-in-j^  aiiU  in  Uie  circle  of  the  Godhead.  It  is 
nutt-u  urLhy  ihuL  JSi.  I'aul  does  not  discuss  these  questions,  seems, 
indeed,  to  be  scarcely  conscious  of  them.  He  wonders  and  adores 
as  he  thinks  of  the  love  which  led  Christ  to  that  stupendous 
sacrifice.  He  contemplates  with  delight  and  woi-ship  the  Person 
of  his  glorified  Lord,  and  throws  his  being  open  to  the  gracious 
influences  of  His  Spirit.  He  has  no  other  ambition  on  earth  save 
to  know  Christ ;  but  when  he  speaks  of  knowing,  he  means  such 
spiritual  intimacy  as  person  has  with  person,  and  in  particular 
a  growing  appreciation  of,  and  entrance  into,  the  power  of 
Christ's  resurrection,  the  fellowship  of  His  sufferings,  and  con- 
formitv  to  His  death  (Ph  31").  Kut  to  dissect  the  Person  of 
Christ,  to  lay  out  the  Divinity  on  one  side  and  the  humanity  on 
the  other,  and  to  discuss  a  coynminncntio  idiomatuin,  does  not 
lie  within  the  four  corners  of  Pauline  thought.  This  fact  may 
Mi-;;-i-st  tlie  d-iulit  whcthor  qnt-stions  such  as  the  above  are 
ri-.']itly  con'-i-i\ed.     Th'-\-  e\idi-ntly  proceed  from  the  point  of 

i.Mlh  iiii.-t!i- 1- :  \\li'i-.  lis  l'anl'>  \ie\\s  of  God  and  of  man  and  of 
the  (;...(t-man.  are  all  sMiliieti--.  Personal  unitv,  and  not  logical 
.inalism,  is  tile  key  to  the  thought  of  .St.  P,iul.  Between  God 
and  man,  there  is  the  unity  of  moral  likeness ;  between  the 
Father  and  the  Son.  the  unity  of  being  and  fellowship  ;  between 
the  pre-incarnate  and  the  incarnate  periods  of  Christ's  experience 
and  action,  the  unity  of  one  continuous  life ;  between  Christ 
and  those  whom  He  saves,  the  unity  of  reciprocal  indwelling. 

(3)  Post-iiicarnatc. — Having  become  man,  Christ 
remains  human.  In  the  Kingdom  whose  Lord  He 
is.  He  is  Jesus  who  was  so  named  in  His  earthly 
life.  Mediator  between  God  and  man,  He  is  Him- 
self man  (1  Ti  2').  From  Him,  as  the  Head,  life 
streams  down  to  all  members  of  the  body  (Col  f , 

1  Co  12-'',  Eph  4'"  '^).  In  Him  the  members  are  '  com- 
plete,' receive  fulness  of  satisfaction  (Col  2'°).  In 
Him  human  nature  finds  itself  raised  to  its  highest 
perfection,  hence  in  Him  there  can  be  none  of 
the  barriers  that  divide  man  from  man  (Col  3",  Gal 
3^).  This  is  the  point  of  the  comparison  in  Ro 
5'=-=i  and  1  Co  15*^-*''  between  the  first  Adam  and 
the  Second.  In  one  sense  Adam  is  the  head  of  the 
race,  in  another  the  Risen  and  Exalted  Christ  is 
the  Head,  and  from  Him  all  life  comes.  This  is 
the  very  heart  of  St.  Paul's  experience,  and  there- 
fore also  of  His  Christology.  Qirist  is  living.  St. 
Paul  presupposes  the  pre-existent  Christ ;  his  Christ 
could  not  begin  to  be  in  time.  He  is  acquainted 
■ndtli  tile  historic  life  through  which  Christ  gained 
His  glory.  But  that  which  St.  Paul  gazes  upon 
with  endless  adoration  is  the  Person  of  the  Risen 
and  Glorified  Lord.  Between  the  living  Christ  and 
him  there  is  such  union  as  surpasses  power  of  lan- 
guage to  express.  Christ  dwells  in  the  believer  in 
His  complete  human-Divine  personality,  and  im- 
parts Himself  in  growing  fulness  to  the  believer ; 
and  there  is  thus  developed  identity  of  experience 
and  identity  of  character,  ■\vhich  will  ultimately  bvi 
crowned  by  identity  of  outward  condition  (Gal  2^, 

2  Co  3'8,  P"li  3='). 

3.  Christ  in  His  relation  to  the  Cosmos.— Tlie 
intellect  of  the  time  was  much  occupied  with  specu- 
lations regarding  the  relation  of  God  to  the  world. 
To  Greek  dualism  this  was  really  an  insoluble 
problem.  The  gulf  between  God  and  the  universe 
yawned  impassable.  The  place  of  a  solution  was 
taken  by  a  mythology  of  '  powers,'  '  principalities,' 
and  the  like  supposititious  beings,  who  existed  only 
in  the  jargon  of  the  philosophical  sects.  On  Jewish 
.soil  this  mytliology  was  changed  into  a  hierarchy 
of  angels.  Wild  as  these  dreams  .are,  they  represent 
a  real  need  of  thought  and  of  religious  experience. 
The  problems  of  creation  and  redemption  cannot 
be  held  ap.art.  The  creative  purpose  mu.st  include 
redemption,  and  redemption  must  have  cosmic 
bearings.  We  cannot  rest  in  a  harmony  with  God 
which  leaves  the  universe  outside,  unreconciled, 
possibly  the  abode  of  forces  against  ivhich  the 
redeeming  agency  Avould  be  powerless  to  defend  us. 
St.  Paul's  view  is  that  the  universe  has  a  part  in 
the  history  of  man.     Injured  by  human  sin,  it  will 


INCARNATION 


INCARNATION 


809 


come  to  its  completion  when  the  children  of  God 
enter  on  their  heritage  (Ro  8-').  Christ,  the  Re- 
deemer of  men,  accordingly,  is  Lord  of  the  nni- 
verse.  Nothing  lies  outside  His  gracious  sway. 
The  clumsy  macliinery  of  angels,  or  powers,  or 
whatever  these  needless  creations  are  named,  is 
replaced  by  the  one  Person,  who  is  the  Agent  of 
God  alike  in  creation  and  in  redemption  (Col  l^'-"). 
Christ,  who  is  the  manifestation  of  God,  is  of  in- 
finitely higher  rank  than  all  the  creatui"es.  All 
things,  whatever  their  place  and  dignity,  owe  to 
Him  their  existence,  and  find  in  Him  their  goal. 
This  exalted  Person  is  also  Head  of  the  Church, 
and  Agent  in  reconciliation  (vv.'*"°°).     That  is  to 


say,  the  work  of  redemption  can  be  accomplished 
nly  by  One  who  is  also  tl      "      '  "" 

iier  must  be  God  absolutely,  e 
needed  a  Mediator  for  Him  also.     The 


only  by  One  who  is  al?so  the   Creator.     Tfi< 
deemer  must  be  God  absolutely,  else  there  will  be 


cannot  have,  in  our  apprehension,  the  value  of 
God,  unless  He  is  God  in  His  own  proper  being. 

The  testimony  of  St.  Paul  to  Christ  contains 
great  heights  and  depths,  but  it  exhibits  no  in- 
consistency with  .Jesus'  self-witness.  It  is  not  a 
mosaic  of  Jewish  and  Hellenic  elements.  It  is  the 
product  of  experience,  developed  under  the  con- 
ditions of  that  Divine  assistance  which  Jesus  Him- 
self described,  Jn  16'--'^. 

iv.  Hebrew.s.  —  In  this  Epistle  the  Christian 
faith  is  defended  against  any  attempt  to  belittle 
the  person  and  office  of  the  Redeemer.     However 


Divi 


purpose 


glorious  other  agents  of 

have  been,  '  this  man '  is  more  glorious  by  far  in 
the  dignity  of  His  person  and  in  the  \astness  and 
finality  of  His  redemptive  work.  To  Him,  there- 
fore, is  api)lied  the  familiar  Christian  designation 
of  Lord  (2^  V"  13-").  The  characteristic  name  ap- 
plied to  Him,  however,  is  .s'o»  ( P-  -  7-*  5'*  1"  6"  7'  10-' 
4").  This  title  expresses  His  Divine  and  eternal 
bein".  The  author  of  this  Epistle  follows  the  ex- 
ample of  the  Apostle  Paul  in  describing  the  Chris- 
tian salvation  under  the  aspect  of  a  history  of  the 
Son  of  God.     This  history  moves  in  three  stages. 

(1)  The  pre-cxistcnt  state. — Not  much  is  said  on 
this  mysterious  topic.  The  NT  writers  are  con- 
cerned to  allude  to  it  only  in  order  that,  in  the 
light  of  it,  the  earthly  life  of  Jesus  may  be  discerned 
in  its  marvellous  condescension  as  an  act  of  self- 
sacrifice,  and  in  order  that  His  present  position  of 
equality  with  God  may  be  intellectually  credible. 

In  this  pre-existent  state  the  Son  is  the  efl'ulgence 
of  God's  glory,  the  very  image  of  His  substance 
(V).  Without  f..nii;illv  ;iis,iis.si],.4  tl„.  ,|uesti.,n  ..1 
the  being  of  God.  tlir  ulKn-  hns  :ilic:nly  Mll|.:i--.-,l 
any  mere  mon:nli-iii.  (;■.,!  i,  n.ii  li.ii-r  .i  h^ir.iri 
unity.  With  (i.jd  Ihnv  is  Our  wli.,  .N.nlly  ,<.nc- 
.sponds  to  Himself,  who  gives  back  to  Him  the 
glory  which  is  His.  Between  Him  and  God  there 
is  perfect  oneness.  Between  these  two  there  is 
no  room  for  a  mediator.  The  functions  of  the  Son 
in  this  state  are  not  described  further  than  to  indi- 
cate that  no  department  of  the  universe  is  outside 
the  scope  of  His  power  (P).  There  is  no  room, 
accordingly,  for  any  being,  other  than  the  Son  of 
God,  to  whom  worsliip  or  gratitude  is  due. 

(2)  The  incarnate  life. — This  writer,  like  the 
Apostle  Paul,  passes  by  all  the  questions,  so  abun- 
dantly discussed  in  later  theology,  as  to  '  two 
natures,'  etc.  His  whole  interest  is  concerned  with 
the  heart-subduing  fact  that  the  birth  of  Christ  is 
the  descent  of  a  Divine  Being  from  heaven  to  earth, 
the  definite  assumption  by  Him  of  a  complete  and 
true  humanity  (2^'  10=  2").  To  this  writer  the 
humanity  of  Jesus  is  wonderful  and  glorious.  A 
Being  truly  Divine  has  become  man,  and  has 
entered  fully  into  human  experience.  There  is 
nothing  human  that  is  not  His,  sin  excepted. 
Temptation,  suffering,  death— He  passed  through 
them  all.     All  this  He  endured  in  pursuance  of  the 


I  vociitiun  with  \xliich  He  entered  humanity.  Before 
Him  lay  His  task.  Beyond  shone  the  glory.  Not 
'■111.  ,  ini  .so  great  a  glory,  would  He  evade  one 
liiiiiKui  sniidw.  It  was  all  wanted  to  perfect  Him 
in  His  Ndiation  (2'°  5'- ').  The  resemblance  to  St. 
Paul's  line  of  thought  in  Ph  2=-'^  is  obvious. 

(3)  The  exaltation.  —  The  position  of  majesty 
which  the  Son  now  occupies  is  described  in  two 
aspects.  (a)  Its  possibiliti/  is  due  to  what  He 
was  in  Himself,  antecedently  to  His  human  ex- 
periences. He  has  been  appointed  heir  of  all 
things,  both  because  He  is  the  Son  of  God  and 
because,  through  Him,  (iod  made  the  worlds  (1-). 
He  has  sat  down  on  tlic  riyhl  h:m.l  of  the  majesty 
on  high,  because  He  i-,  in  Hi-  xciy  nature,  the 
effulgence  of  God's  gli>i\  ami  the-  \oi y  image  of  His 
.sub.stance.  No  being  less  tlian  Goil,  in  His  own 
person,  could  occupy  such  a  place,  [b)  Its  attain- 
ment is  due  to  His  discharge  of  His  redemptive 
mission,  and  is  of  the  nature  of  a  reward  for  His 
fidelity.  His  present  position  presupposes  His  pre- 
existent  place  and  function,  and  yet  is  distinct 
from  them.  It  is  that  of  King  in  God's  realm  of 
redemption. 

Here,  just  as  in  coime.xion  with  the  incarnate  condition, 
questions  arise  wliich  this  writer  does  not  discuss.  *The  rela- 
tion of  this  rule  to  the  primary  rule  of  God,  or  to  His  own 
primary  upholding  of  all  things  by  the  word  of  His  power,  is 
not  indicated '  (A.  "   "     "  "  ""'      -• 

faith  that,  in  the  u 
that  of  the  exalted  Redeemer. 

V.  The  Fourth  Gospel.  —  St.  John's  Christ- 
ology,  like  that  of  St.  Paul,  is  the  transcript  of 
his  experience.  He  makes  plain  his  object  in  tell- 
ing the  story  of  the  life  of  Christ  (20»'-).  Out  of 
all  the  mass  of  material  which  his  memory  pro- 
vides, he  selects  those  incidents  which  may  be 
most  useful  in  proving  to  generations  which  had 
not  the  privilege  of  direct  vision,  that  Jesus  is  the 
Christ,  the  Son  of  God.  The  principles  of  selection, 
and  the  insight  into  the  meaning  of  words  and 
deeds  which  are  reproduced,  are  due  to  a  lifetime  of 
thought  and  communion,  as  well  as  to  the  continual 
illumination  of  the  Spirit  of  Christ.  St.  John's 
conception  of  Christ  is  summarily  set  forth  in  the 
Prologue  to  the  lUarrative  (!'"'*).  No  doubt  the.se 
much-debated  verses  are  meant  to  pro\ide  the  point 
of  view  which  the  reader  of  the  narrative  is  to  occupy; 
but  equally  without  doubt  tliey  do  not  present  an 
idea,  formed  in  speculation,  and  then  employed  to 
determine  the  narrative,  to  invent  the  incidents, 
and  to  create  the  discourses.  Tlie  narrative,  with 
the  «..rds  .■nid  signs,  lo-i,,,lly  pivre.lrs  the  Pro- 
logue, w  hirh  jin-sciits  Us  w  il  li  1  lir  r\\  larteil  lueaii- 
iii-of  the  history.  'I'l.o  {'.i-mi  pm  1 1  ay,.,!  in  the 
ii,ai'rati\  e  is  One  o'f  \\  hose  liistoiy,  in  the  w  ider  sense, 
the  earthly  career  is  hut  a  jiart.  He  had  a  being 
with  God  Y)efore  He  was  seen  on  earth.  He  had  a 
Divine  mode  of  existence  and  exercised  Divine 
functions,  before  He  appeared  as  a  man  and 
wroiiulit  His  ileeils  througli  human  organsof  action. 
At  the  si-t  time  He  entered  into  humanity,  and, 
throu.iili  li\iii;;  iiiiereourse  with  men,  revealed  to 
them  the  glory  of  His  person,  and  interpreted 
for  them  the  character  of  tlm  inviMl.le  (;,„1.  The 
remarkable  feature  ni  ilie  I'lolo-ne  is  In  use  of 
the  term  Logos  to  desivn.ite  Him  -hIioU]  the  narra- 
tive leads  us  to  know  as  the  Son.  It  is  certainly 
not  the  key  to  the  narrative,  which  is  to  be  read 
from  the  ])oint  of  view  of  the  Divine  Sonsliip, 
which  it  reveals.  It  is  not  used  in  the  narrative, 
though  it  reappears  in  the  First  Epistle  of  John. 
It  is  certainly  not  taken  o\er  from  Philo,  and  in- 
tended to  create  a  ne\v  religious  philosophy.  Prob- 
ably its  presence  is  to  lie  explained,  ,as  are  the 
references  in  St.  Paul's  letters,  by  the  technicalities 
of  prevalent  philosophy  or  theosophy.  Christi- 
anity appeared  when  the  problem  of  the  relation 
of  God  to  the  world  had  reached  its  fullest  state- 


810 


INCARNATION 


INCARNATION 


nient ;  when,  also,  the  utmost  that  human  thought 
could  do  had  been  done  in  the  way  of  a  solution. 
The  last  and  most  strenuous  effort  of  human  thought 
to  meet  the  demand  of  the  human  spirit  had 
found  expression  in  Philo's  Logos  speculation, 
■which  owed  its  origin  partly  to  developments  of 
Hebrew  thought  as  to  the  word  and  wisdom  of 
God,  and  partly  to  ideas  wliieh  had  been  the 
motive  power  of  the  whole  history  of  Greek  philo- 
sophy. It  was  not  possible  for  Christianity  to 
ignore  the  problem.  Christianity  is  more  immedi- 
ately concerned  with  the  problem  of  the  redemp- 
tion of  man  ;  but  this  cannot  be  dissociated  from 
the  \\-ider  problem  of  the  relation  of  God  to  the 
world.  The  key  to  the  one  must  unlock  the  other 
also.  St.  Paul  and  St.  .John,  accordingly,  take  up 
the  technical  terms  most  in  vogue,  with  whatever 
they  stand  for,  and  say  in  effect :  Wliat  human 
thought  has  endeavoured  to  achieve  by  its  ma- 
chinery of  angels  or  powers,  or  by  its  hypostatiza- 
tion  of  the  Logos,  has  been  accomplished  in  the 
Person  of  the  Son  of  God.  He  is  the  life  of  the 
redeemed.  He  is  the  life  also  of  the  whole  universe 
of  God.  There  is  but  one  purpose  in  creation  and 
redemption,  and  that  is  summed  up  in  Christ.  He 
is  the  Logos. 

The  terra  Lo^os,  accordingly,  is  used  by  St.  John 
to  express  the  identity  of  Him  whom  we  know  as 
Jesus  Christ,  vdth  the  personal  "Wisdom  and  Power 
of  God,  who  is  God's  agent  in  creation,  who  alone 
could  redeem  men,  and  who  achieved  this  in  the  only 
way  possible,  by  Himself  assuming  human  nature, 
and  dwelling  for  a  space  with  men.  The  term, 
having  served  the  pui-pose  of  presenting  Christ  as 
the  goal  of  the  immemorial  quest  of  the  human 
spirit  for  union  with  God,  is  not  again  employed 
in  the  Gospel. 

It  is  not  necessary  to  attempt  here  a  detailed  analysis  of  the 
Prologue  (see  Westcolt's  Com. ;  Uods  in  Expos.  Gr.  Test. ;  and 
a  valuable  paper  bj-  Principal  Falconer  in  Expositor,  V.  v. 
[1S97]  222).  The  lejidincr  ideas  are  plain— (1)  The  eternity  of 
the  Logos  (li-  2,  cf.  17^  85s,  i  Jn  li).  The  Logos  had  a  being 
coeval  with  God,  and  did  not  come  into  existence  at  a  point  in 
time,  and  therefore  is  not  a  creature.  (2)  The  fellowship  of  the 
Logos  icith  God.  The  Loses  is  personal,  h.i3  a  life  of  His  own, 
whichyetisdirectedtowai^i       ■  r    "    %TTM'    ir.  ,i, 

and  is  *  in  the  bosom  of  tlv- I  ' 

of  the  LogoSy  as  identical  r  i 

as  a  person.     (4)  The  cr 

cf.  Collie,  He  12.  3).     (:,)    ;  .'/.-■ 

(v.-lf).  (6)  The  historical  manift\^tati-d  ,•(  the  Lnqos  (vv.s  lo). 
(7)  The  incarnation  of  the  Logos  (vv.m^).  This  is  the  climax 
to  which  the  Prologue  has  led  up.  This  is  the  event  of  which 
the  whole  Gospel  narrative  is  the  record  and  description.  The 
Logos,  tlie  same  Being  who  had  dwelt  in  the  circle  of  the  God- 
head, left  the  glory  which  He  had  with  God  (17^),  and,  retaining 
His  personal  identity,  became  '  flesh,*  i.e.  became  man,  assumed 
human  nature  in  its  fulness,  and  dwelt  among  men  as  a  man. 

The  problems  with  regard  to  the  life  of  the  incarnate  Logos, 
which  press  so  heavily  on  our  minds,  are  not  discussed  by  St. 
John  any  more  than  by  St.  Paul.  He  is  wholly  occupied  with 
the  glorious  fact.  It  is  amazing,  but  it  has  happened  ;  and  in 
that  great  event  the  whole  purpose  of  God,  creative  as  well  as 
redempti\'e,  has  reached  its  consummation.  Revelation  is  com- 
plete. Xo  one  can  declare  God  save  One  who  is  God,  and  this 
IS  He,  Jesus  Christ,  '  God  only-begotten '  (v.iS). 

From  the  simple  missionary  preaching  of  the 
Acts  to  the  high  intense  thinking  of  the  Prologue 
to  the  Fourth  Gospel  is  a  long  movement.  It  is  a 
movement,  however,  not  away  from  the  facts,  but 
toward  their  inward,  spiritual,  universal,  and  eter- 
nal meanin".  This  movement,  moreover,  has  not 
been  dependent  on  unaided  human  reflexion,  nor 
are  its  results  mere  guesses  or  inferences.  It  has 
been  conducted  under  the  guidance  of  Christ's  own 
self-witness  and  the  illumination  of  Christ's  own 
Spirit ;  and  its  conclusions  express  the  wealth  of 
Cnristian  experience,  and  in  experience  find  their 
ultimate  demonstration. 

Conclusion  and  Outlonk. — A  study  of  the  charac- 
ter of  Christ,  and  a  dcise  and  reverent  attention 
to  His  self-witne.ss,  compel  the  inference  that  His 
Person,  completely  and  really  human  though  He  is, 
is  not  constituted  like  that  "of  other  men.     It  is  to 


be  admitted,  however,  or  rather  it  is  to  he  urged, 
that  what  the  facts  suggest  and  demand  cannot  be 
fully  apprehended  by  any  merely  intellectual 
process  whatever.  What  Christ  is,  in  His  own 
Person,  can  be  known  only  by  those  who  know 
Him  ;  and  personal  knowledge  has  conditions  which 
are  not  satisfied  in  any  exercise  of  the  mere  under- 
standing, however  careful  and  exact.  Such  condi- 
tions are  an  attitude  or  direction  of  the  human 
spirit,  and  an  immediate  operation,  at  once  illumin- 
ating and  quickening,  of  the  Divine  Spirit.  When 
these  conditions  meet  and  interact,  in  that  profound 
region  where  the  Spirit  of  God  and  the  spirit  of 
man  touch  and  interpenetrate  one  another,  there 
is  produced  that  knowledge  of  God  and  of  Christ 
which  our  Lord  describes  as  life.  There  is  no  other 
knowledge  of  Christ ;  and  if  Christology  is  supposed 
to  be  an  intellectual  process,  governed  by  forms  of 
discursive  thought,  and  issuing  in  propositions  for 
which  is  claimed  the  cogency  of  a  logical  demon- 
stration, it  stands  condemned  as  being  out  of  all 
relation  to  Christian  experience.  But  this  personal 
experience  is  knowledge  of  Christ.  He  is  as  really 
known  in  this  spiritual  fellowship  as  one  human 
person  is  known  by  another,  and  is  known  more 
closely  and  fully  than  one  man  can  be  known  by 
another.  Christianity,  accordingly,  presents  to  the 
Avorld  the  solution  of  its  problem,  the  answer  to  its 
need  ;  while,  at  the  same  time,  it  has  before  itself 
a  constant  problem,  the  answer  to  which  it  seeks, 
not  with  ever-growing  weariness  and  sense  of  defeat, 
but  with  ever-renewed  energy  of  faith  and  love. 

1.  The  problem  of  the  world,  the  more  or  less 
conscious  and  articulate  demand  of  the  human  spirit, 
is,  as  we  noted  at  the  outset,  union  with  God.  This 
union  is,  primarily,  personal— nil  ethical  fellowship, 
in  which  God  shall  fully  disclose  His  character,  and 
impart  Himself,  to  man  ;  in  which  man  shall  freely 
open  his  being  to  the  communications  of  God,  and 
find  in  God  his  life  and  development.  Such  personal 
union,  however,  carries  with  it  cosmical  union  also, 
or  the  harmonizing  of  all  those  differences  from 
God  which  are  implied  in  the  existence  of  the 
created  universe,  and  find  their  most  acute  expres- 
sion in  the  self-assertion  of  man  against  God.  The 
reconciling  of  man  is  the  reconciling  of  all  things. 
I'he  solution  of  a  problem,  thus  fundamentally 
personal,  must  be  itself  personal.  Christianity, 
accordingly,  met  the  problem  of  the  early  centuries, 
a.s  it  meets  the  same  problem  in  the  twentieth  cen- 
tui-y,  by  the  preaching  of  the  personal  Christ.  He 
is  the  Son  of  God  ;  and  therefore,  also.  He  is  the  Son 
of  Man.  In  Christ,  God  is  fully  present ;  through 
Him,  God  is  perfectly  known  ;  with  Him,  God  is 
one.  In  Chnst,  human  nature  is  fully  realized  in 
all  that  it  was  meant  to  be,  both  in  respect  of  its 
complete  dependence  upon  God  and  of  its  complete 
fulfilment  of  spiritual  function.  In  Christ,  accord- 
ingly, the  history  of  creation  is  complete.  He 
stands  at  the  head  of  a  universe  reconciled  to  God. 
He  is  its  reconciliation.  Wherever  the  problem 
of  union  with  God  takes  expression  in  concrete 
facts — in  the  sense  of  guilt  in  the  individual  con- 
science ;  in  death,  whicli  closes  human  life  with  a 
pall  of  impenetrable  darkness ;  in  the  antagonism 
of  man  to  man,  manifested  in  personal  animosities, 
or  the  war  of  nation  with  nation  and  class  mth 
class — in  facts  whose  gloom  no  pessimism  can  ex- 
aggerate :  there,  the  knowledge  of  Christ  supplies 
the  solution.  To  know  Christ  is  to  be  at  one  with 
God  and  -ndth  man.  Christianity  is  thus  both  reli- 
gion and  ethic.  It  is  an  intense  individual  experi- 
ence, which  is  the  impulse  of  boundless  social  service. 

And  when  the  same  problem  finds  the  precision 
and  articulateness  of  philosophical  expression— as 
it  did,  for  instance,  in  that  Neo-Platonism  whicli 
had  such  strange  affinities  to  Christianity  while  it 
was  also  its  bitterest  opponent ;  or  as  it  does  to-day, 


INCARNATION 


INCARNATION 


811 


in  that  Absolute  Idealism  which,  in  some  aspects, 
is  the  noblest  ally  of  the  Christian  faith,  and,  in 
others,  its  proudest  and  least  sympathetic  rival — 
the  key  to  its  solution  will  still  be  found  in  the 
conception  of  a  Personality  at  once  Divine  and 
human,  a  life  lived  under  iiistoric  conditions,  which 
was  at  once  the  life  of  God  in  man  and  the  life  of 
man  in  and  through  God.  The  words  of  the  Master 
of  Balliol  apply  to  the  present  as  well  as  to  the 
primitive  position  of  Christianity  : 

*It  contained  implicitly  the  key  to  all  the  antagonisms  of 
thought  that  had  been  developed  in  Greek  philosophy  —  the 
antagonism  of  the  materia!  and  the  spiritual,  the  antagonism 
of  the  phenomenal  and  the  ideal  or  intelligible  world,  the 
antagonism  of  the  finite  and  the  infinite,  the  antagonism  of  the 
temporal  and  the  eternal.  In  a  word,  it  contained  in  itself  the 
principle  of  an  optimism  which  faces  and  overcomes  the  deepest 
pessimism,  of  an  idealism  which  has  room  in  itself  for  the  most 
realistic  consciousness  of  all  the  distinctions  and  relations  of  the 
finite '  (Evolution  of  Theology  in  the  Greek  Philosophers,  vol.  ii. 
p.  351). 

2.  The  Incarnation  of  the  Son  of  God  is  therefore 
the  article  of  a  standing  Church.  It  is,  at  the  same 
time,  the  abiding  problem  of  a  living  Church. 
It  is  not,  however,  a  problem  which  is  suggested 
by  one  faculty  to  be  handed  over  to  another  for 
solution.  Faith  does  not  receive  Christ,  and  then 
appeal  to  intellect  to  tell  us  who  He  is,  and  how 
His  Person  is  constituted.  It  has  been  the  profound 
error  of  Scholasticism,  both  before  and  since  the 
Reformation,  to  suppose  that  faith  supplies  a  mass 
of  crude  amorphous  facts  and  experiences,  upon 
which  the  intellect  exercises  its  analytic,  system- 
atizing genius,  distinguishiii"-,  detining,  separating, 
and  then  tying  into  bundles  Tiy  ine.-uis  of  formula;. 
The  re.sult  of  such  a  mi'tlii.d',  a]>|.li(il  to  tlie  pro- 
blem of  the  Person  of  (liiisl,  is  .-i  ( 'hristology  in 
whose  dogmatic  constructinn  tin'  ]i\ing  Christ  of 
history  and  experience  is  wholly  unrecognizable. 
The  Reformation  was  the  protest  of  Christian  faith 
against  this  attempt  to  rob  it  of  the  personal 
Saviour,  whom  it  ajipropriates,  whom  the  believer 
knows  directly  and  tnilj;.  Ritschlianism,  however 
incomplete  its  constructive  work  may  be,  is  never- 
thele.ss,  as  a  protest  against  formalism,  in  harmony 
with  the  &™rit  of  the  Reformation. 

The  value  of  such  a  protest,  however,  will  be 
greatly  lessened  if  it  lend  colour  to  the  supposition 
that  our  knowledge  of  Christ  is  confined  to  His 
benefits,  while  He  Himself,  in  the  secret  of  His 
being,  belongs  to  some  supposed  noumenal  sphere, 
inaccessible  to  human  knowledge,  so  that  it  is 
impossible  either  to  affirm  or  deny  His  Divinity. 
'  Hoc  est  Christum  cognoscere,  beneficia  ejus  cog- 
noscere'  is  a  proposition  true  if  it  mean  that  no 
one  can  know  Christ  who  is  not  vitally  one  with 
Him,  and  therefore  a  partaker  of  His  benehts  ;  but 
certainly  false  if  it  mean  that,  beyond  His  benefits, 
there  is  a  supposed  substratum  of  being,  about 
which  nothing  can  be  known,  which  may  or  may 
not  be  Divine  (cf.  Martensen,  Christian  Dogmatics, 
p.  63).  Thus  doos  the  nii>aiiiili(>d  category  of  sub- 
stance take  roNTiij.'  i)|".ii  lln'  critical  method, 
which,  while  (UMi\iiii:  ii-  xaliility,  retains  it  as 
a  kind  of  metapl'iysiml  plianlimi'.  To  know  the 
benefits  of  Christ,  to  live  in  fellowship  ^^•ith  Him, 
to  carry  out  His  commission,  is  to  know  Himself. 
No  shadow  of  unreality  lies  upon  that  knowledge, 
any  more  than  it  lies  upon  the  knowledat;  we  liave 
of  the  friend  whom  we  know  better  (haii  \vi'  l<iiiiw 
ourselves.  This  does  not  mean,  ol  ..,in:,,.,  thai  any 
believer,  or  the  whole  comm\inii\-  oi  liilir\  eis, 
now  knows,  or  ever  will  know,  ail  aliuui  (  luist. 
Personality,  even   human    |"T-unaliiy,    i~   a    jir.at 


Much  more  is  this  true  of  the  personality  of  Christ. 
Knowledge  of  Christ  is  boundlessly  progressive  ; 
what  more  is  to  be  known  of  Him  than  the  Church 
at  present  apprehends,  depends  on  those  conditions 


belonging  to  the  whole  personal  life  which  make 
any  knowledge  of  Him  possible.  In  short,  the 
problem  of  the  Person  of  Christ  is  presented  by 
that  faith,  which  is  already  knowledge,  to  that 
knowing  power,  which  is  simply  faith  itself,  as  it 
grows  in  apprehension  of  Christ.  Christ  is  not 
divided ;  and  there  is  no  division  in  the  faculty 
which  apprehends  Him,  though  the  stages  of 
its  exercise  and  its  acquisition  advance  end- 
le.ssly  from  less  to  more.  It  follow.s  that  Cliris- 
tology,  which  is  simply  the  relleiii^e  expres- 
sion of  the  knowledge  of  Christ  -aiiaal  in  actual 
experience,  must  not  subject  tlie  fulness  of  its 
material  to  any  form  of  thought  borrowed  from  an 
alien  sphere  ;  or  if,  in  the  exigencies  of  a  defen- 
sive statement,  it  uses  loan-words  derived  from 
philosophy,  it  must  never  for  a  moment  ^imagine 
that  these  exjjlain  or  exhaust  the  living  retuity 
with  which  it  is  dealing.  These  words  float,  like 
derelicts,  on  the  ocean  of  the  Church's  thought, 
and  many  a  promising  speculation  has  struck 
thereon  and  foundered.  Especially  ought  modem 
Christology  to  be  on  its  guard  against  that  dualistic 
mode  of  thought,  with  the  terminology  which  it  em- 
ploys, which  is  the  drimnosa  hwreditas  bequeathed 
to  theology  by  (1  reek  Philosophy,  the  shadow  of 
which  fell  upon  Kant,  and  has  not  departed  from 
the  new  Kantiaiis  of  recent  times.  The  task  of 
Christoliigy  at  the  present  <la}-  is  to  restate  and  to 
defend  twn  n'rtainiies  of  (liristian  experience. 

(1)  'I'll  Clirisiian  i\|iei  ic  nee,  educated  and  in- 
formed by  Siripture  .-ual  by  the  Spirit  of  truth, 
Christ  is  hnuicn  as  God.  Tlie  problem  of  the  re- 
lation of  the  Divine  Christ  to  the  Divine  Father 
is  thus  necessarily  raised,  and  will  not  be  evaded. 
If,  however,  the  conception  of  absolute  Godhead 
be  modelled  upon  the  forms  of  Greek  dualism, 
the  mystery  becomes  an  insoluble  problem,  con- 
founding tliought  and  troubling  faith.  Within 
a  Godhead  conceived  as  abstract  unity  there 
is  no  room  for  the  Divine  Christ.  The  best  that 
thought  can  do  is  to  place  the  Son  outside  God, 
though  as  near  to  Him  as  possible.  But  this  is 
straightway  to  deprive  faith  of  its  object,  and  to 
imperil  the  fact  of  reconciliation.  The  Church, 
accordingly,  would  have  none  of  the  Arian  honorific 
titles  applied  to  Christ  on  the  presupposition  that 
He  was  less  than  God,  and  would  be  content  with 
nothing  less  than  the.consubstantiality  of  the  Son 
with  the  Father.  The  term  o/ioowios,  borrowed  not 
without  reluctance  from  philosophy,  was  probably 
ine\'ital)le,  ami  served  sufficiently  to  utter  the 
Church's  faith-knoM-ledge  of  the  true  Divinity  of  its 
Lord.  The  danger  lay  in  supposing  that  omia,  or 
the  category  of  substance,  is  adequate  to  express 
the  infinite  wealth  of  the  Divine  Personality,  or, 
worse  still,  in  directing  men's  minds  to  conceive  of 
God  as  Substance  rather  than  as  Personality. 
From  the  baleful  effects  of  this  point  of  view, 
theology  has  not  yet  shaken  itself  free.  The  only 
category  which  can  apply  to  the  mystery  of  the 
relation  of  the  Father  to  the  Son  is  that  of  organic 
union,  whose  highest  illustration  is  in  the  domain 
of  personal  life.  There  are  deep  and  livinjy  re- 
lations which  subsist  between  persons  even  within 
the  human  family.  If  one  person  not  only  may, 
but  miist  live  in  another  person  in  order  to  be  a 
person,  and  if  between  these  two  there  is  such  com- 
munity of  life  that  each  finds  his  life  in  the  other, 
and  these  two  are  not  so  much  two  as  one,  we  may 
lind  ourselves  on  the  verge  of  a  greater  mystery 
and  a  far  deeper  unity  :  the  abiding  of  the  Father 
in  the  Son  and  the  Son  in  the  Father,  and  these 
two,  along  with  the  Spirit  of  both,  forming  the 
One  God  of  redemption  and  of  creation.  By  stich 
a  path  as  this  must  Christology  move  to  a  fuller 
grasp  of  the  truth,  which  the  Nicene  Creed  asserted, 
but  did  not  adequately  or  finally  set  forth. 


812 


INCARNATIOJf 


INCARNATION 


(2)  To  Christian  experience,  maintained  in  fel- 
lowship with  the  living  Christ,  He  is  known  as 
man.  Faith  apprehends  Him  as  incarnate,  i.e.  as 
a  Divine  Being,  who  became  man,  entered  into  the 
sphere  and  conditions  of  human  life,  and  passed 
through  a  complete  human  experience.  Humanity, 
therefore,  reaches  its  consummation  in  His  Person  ; 
and  human  beings,  divided  though  they  may  be 
from  one  another,  find  no  impassable  barriers 
between  themselves  and  Christ.  Christian  experi- 
ence, accordingly,  is  vitally  concerned  with  the 
earthly  life  of  Christ,  as  recorded  in  the  Gospels. 
Docetism  and  Ebionism  are  both  false  to  the 
conviction  of  faith.  Between  the  Divinity  and 
the  humanity  of  Jesus  Christ,  faith  finds  no 
abstract  opposition.  Christ  is  kno^^^l  as  at  once 
DiWne  and  human. 

As  soon,  however,  as  faith  seeks  to  make  clear 
to  itself  its  convictions,  and  to  state  and  defend 
them  in  view  of  inquiry  or  attack,  certain  ques- 
tions regarding  the  human-Divine  life  of  the  Lord 
inevitably  arise. 

(a)  The  problem  of  the  origin  of  this  life  pre- 
sented itself  very  early  to  the  minds  of  those  who 
had  learned  to  see  in  Jesus  Christ  the  Son  of  God. 
He  is  man,  yet  He  is  related  to  God  as  no  other 
man  can  be.  Is  it  possible  that  He  could  have 
come  into  the  world,  as  other  men  do,  as  a  child  of 
a  human  father  and  mother?  The  answer  to  be 
found  in  two  of  the  Gospels  is  that  He  did  not  ; 
that  the  Holy  Ghost  came  upon  His  mother,  and 
the  power  of  the  Most  High  overshadowed  her ; 
that  her  Son  had  no  human  father.  The  truth  of 
the  narrative  of  the  supernatural  birth  is  chal- 
lenged, in  many  quarters,  on  critical  and  on  meta- 
physical grounds.  In  view  of  these  objections,  it 
ought  to  be  freely  admitted  that  the  Incarnation 
viight  have  taken  place  under  normal  human  con- 
ditions. We  are  not  in  a  position  to  determine 
n  priori  what  course  Infinite  Power  and  Love  shall 
take.  It  is  impossible,  therefore,  to  place  the 
mode  of  the  Incarnation,  through  a  \'irgin-birth, 
on  the  same  footing  of  religious  or  theological  im- 
portance as  the  great  fact  of  the  Incarnation 
itself.  If,  however,  from  a  study  of  the  data  pre- 
sented in  the  NT,  i.e.  from  a  consideration  of  the 
character  of  Christ,  of  His  claims  and  self-witness, 
as  well  as  of  the  testimony  of  His  disciples,  ajjart 
/ro»i  the  narratives  of  His  infancy,  we  have  arrived 
at  the  conviction  of  His  unequalled  and  supreme 
greatness ;  and  if  we  t/ien  return  to  a  study  of 
these  narratives,  we  cannot  fail  to  find  in  them  an 
ethical  purity  and  a  spiritual  fitness  which  com- 
mand our  glad  acceptance.  Their  value  for  Chris- 
tian thought  lies  in  their  providing  a  physical  fact, 
correspondent  to  the  conviction  which  a  study  of 
the  person  of  Christ  has  wrought  in  us,  viz.  "that 
He  is  not  the  product  of  a  natural  evolution  from 
humanity,  but  is  a  Divine  Being  who  has  entered 
into  the  conditions  and  exjieriences  of  human 
nature. 

The  supernatural  birth  of  Jesus  is  not  our  war- 
rant for  belief  in  His  Divinity  and  His  sinlessness. 
But  belief  in  His  Divinity  and  His  sinlessness  is 
our  warrant  for  regarding  the  supernatural  birth 
as  being  not  merely  possible  or  credible,  but  as 
being  wholly  congruous  with  the  uniqueness  of 
His  personality,  and,  therefore,  as  ser\'ing  as  a 
welcome  illustration  and  confirmation  of  the  con- 
tents of  Christian  experience. 

(6)  In  studying  the  record  of  the  life  of  Christ, 
many  questions  arise  in  connexion  with  the  re- 
lation of  the  Divine  to  the  human  aspects  of  His 
personality.  Are  not  the  notes  of  Godhead  ab- 
soluteness, finality,  completeness,  independence  of 
all  the  means  by  which  human  character  is  de- 
veloped ?  How,  then,  are  we  to  understand  the 
evident  facts  of  our  Lord's  life  on  earth,  that  He 


inquired,  and  learned,  and  was  ignorant ;  that  He 
passed  through  the  stages  of  a  temporal  develop- 
ment, moving  toward  His  goal  through  conflict 
and  suffering ;  and  that,  in  His  communion  with 
His  Father,  He  employed  the  means  of  grace  which 
are  ordained  for  men — reading  the  Sacred  Scrip- 
tures, and  being  much  in  prayer  ? 

In  considering  such  problems.  Christian  thought 
has  been  much  hindered  by  the  domination  of 
metaphysical  conceptions  such  as  '  nature,'  and  by 
the  controlling  influence  of  a  dualism  which  has 
opposed  the  Divine  and  human  natures,  regarding 
them  as  possessed  of  contrary  attributes.  The 
history  of  Christology  consists,  mainly,  in  a  series 
of  attempts  to  bring  into  harmony  with  one 
another,  in  the  unity  of  the  person,  '  natures ' 
which,  it  is  presupposed,  are  fundamentally  op- 
posed in  their  characteristics  and  activities. 
Eutychianisni  brings  them  so  close  together  as 
to  confound  them  in  a  result  which  is  a  compound 
of  Divine  and  human.  Nestorianism  holds  them 
so  far  apart  as  to  make  them  almost  the  seats  of 
independent  personalities.  The  formula  of  Chal- 
cedon  can  scarcely  be  called  a  theory  ;  it  is  rather 
an  enumeration  of  the  contrasted  elements  and  a 
mere  assertion  of  the  unity  which  comprelRiids 
them.  The  Lutheran  Christology  seeks  to  reduce 
the  dualism  of  Divine  and  human  to  the  lowest 
possible  degree  by  the  deification  of  Christ's  human 
nature.  The  Kenotic  theories  of  more  recent 
times  have  sought  to  reach  the  same  result  by 
the  idea  of  a  depotentiation  of  His  Divine  nature. 
However  remarkable  these  schemes  may  be  as 
intellectual  efforts,  and  whatever  value  they  may 
have  in  directing  attention  to  one  or  another  ele- 
ment in  the  complex  fact,  it  is  certain  that  they 
all  fall  under  a  threefold  condemnation,  (i. )  They 
are  dominated  by  metaphysical  conceptions  which 
are  profoundly  opposed  to  the  ideas  which  prevail 
throughout  Scripture  ;  being  dualistic  to  the  core, 
whereas  the  ruling  ideas  of  Scripture  are  synthetic, 
and  are  far  removed  from  the  distinctions  which 
mark  the  achievements  of  the  Greek  mind.  (ii. ) 
They  do  not  correspond  with,  or  do  justice  to,  the 
knowledge  which  faith  has  of  the  personal  Christ ; 
separating,  as  they  do,  what  faith  grasps  as  a 
unity,  while  their  attempted  harmonies  are  arti- 
ficial, and  not  vital,  (iii. )  They  fail  to  reproduce 
the  portrait  of  Christ  presented  in  the  Gospels ; 
they  utterly  fail  to  give  adequate  utterance  to  the 
impression  which  the  Christ  of  the  Gospels  makes 
upon  the  minds  which  contemplate  Him.  This  is 
true  even  of  the  Chalcedonian  scheme,  which,  in 
substance,  is  repeated  in  many  modern  creeds  and 
confessions. 

\  1        J       Miliiiies  in  an  inscruteble  fashion  Divine  with 

1,';  ji       !■      ,  :ind  of  whom,  consequently,  contradictory 

.,"  1 : .   ;,       ,1     ;     made,  while  His  dual  natures  hold  an  unde- 

liiiil  li  til; -  .11.-  another.    This  is  not  a  scheme  to  satisfy 

either  hea«l  or  heart'  (Principal  Dvkes,  papers  on  'The  Person 
of.  our  Lord '  in  Expos.  Times,  Oct.  1905-Jan.  1906). 

Christian  thought,  accordingly,  must  abandon  the 
dualism  which  has  so  long  impeded  its  efforts.  It  can 
never,  indeed,  emphasize  too  strongly  the  lowliness 
of  man,  both  as  creature  and  as  sinful  creature, 
and  must  never,  even  in  its  most  spiritual  exercises, 
forget  the  reverenre  that  i^  duo  from  man  to  God. 
But  it  must  reject  m-  mi-l'Milinu  .all  theories  which 
presuppose  a  genei  i,  .lill.  i  .n.  i  lirtween  the  Divine 
and  the  human  naturi~.  It  iiin>t,  therefore,  reject 
the  '  twii-natures'  doctrine  ot  the  Person  of  Christ, 
in  tlic  fiirni  in  which  it  has  hitherto  prevailed  ; 
.and  nuist  ^t.-ut  in  its  study  of  Christ  from  the 
r.ililical  point  of  view  of  the  essential  affinity  of 
tlift  Divine  and  the  human  natures. 

In  recent  literature  the  influence  of  Psychology 
upon  Christological  study  is  deeply  marked.  In- 
stead of   two    natures,   two    consciousnesses    are 


INCARNATION 


INCARNATION 


813 


giving  the  adequate  conception  of 
our  Lord's  life  on  earth.  Tlie  Son  of  God  became 
the  Son  of  Man;  and  had  a  true  human  experience 
in  respect  of  knowledge,  will,  and  every  other 
aspect  of  normal  human  life ;  while  at  the  same 
time  He  remained  the  Logos,  retaining  the  attri- 
butes of  Deity,  such  as  omniscience.  He  lived,  so 
to  speak,  in  two  universes  at  once,  the  macrocosm 
of  creation  at  large  and  the  microcosm  of  human 
life.  This  double  life  and  double  consciousness, 
it  is  suggested,  are  to  be  interpreted  in  the  light  of 
recent  psychological  experiments,  whicli  seem  to 
establisli  the  conclusion  that  there  is  a  vast  sub- 
liminal sphere,  where  the  larger  part  of  our  life  is 
lived,  that  Mliith  emerges  in  consciousness  being 
liut  a  section  of  the  greater  M'hole. 

It  may  well  be  that  such  psychological  hints  are 
not  to  be  thrown  away.  Yet  it  may  be  doubted 
whether  success  on  this  line  is  surer  tlian  under 
the  old  metaphysical  control.  There  are  curiosities 
of  Psychology  as  well  as  of  Metaphysics  ;  and  the 
idea  of  a  subliminal  sphere  may  prove  as  inade- 
quate to  explain  the  mystery  of  the  Incarnation 
as  the  old  '  bloodless '  categories  of  '  substance '  or 
'nature.'  The  soul  of  Jesus  is  not  on  the  dissect- 
ing table,  and  a  psychology  of  it  is  impossible.  In 
particular,  it  must  be  asked  whether  the  represen- 
tation of  Jesus  as  being  ordinaril.y  absorbed  in 
His  human  experiences,  while  having  occasional 
visitations  of  His  own  Logos  consciousness,  is 
true  to  the  portrait  of  Christ  in  the  Gospels.  Is 
there  any  suggestion  in  the  narrative  of  a  move- 
ment on  the  part  of  Jesus,  to  and  fro,  between  the 
sub-conscious  and  the  conscious  spheres  ?  Is  not 
the  deepest  note  in  His  character  the  continuous- 
ness  of  His  conscious  fellowship  with  God  as  of  the 
Son  with  the  Father  ?  Is  there  a  hint  anywhere 
of  a  shutting  oft'  of  His  Divine  consciousness 
during  the  greater  part  of  His  human  experience? 
There  is  certainly  no  indication  of  the  shock  which 
a  merely  human  consciousness  would  receive  if  it 
were  suddenly  invaded  by  a  Divine  consciousness. 
Is  not  the  dualism  of  two  consciousnesses  as  fatal 
to  the  harmony  of  the  life  and  character  of  Christ 
as  that  of  the  'two  natures'  ever  was?  Or,  at 
least,  are  not  the  two  consciousnesses  really  co- 
incident, the  Divine  being  the  root  of  the  human, 
the  human  being  penetrated,  formed,  and  inspired 
by  the  Divine  ? 

In  any  case,  whatever  value  we  may  attach  to 
theories  of  the  Person  of  Christ,  whether  meta- 
jical,  and  whatever  may  be  oui 
1  of  future  Christological  study, 
certain  conclusions  have  established  themselves 
as  of  permanent  importance  for  Christian  thought 
and  experience,  (i.)  It  is  jjossible  for  a  Divine 
Being  to  have  a  truly  human  experience.  Thi-v 
is  nothing  in  tbe  nature  of  God  or  of  man  to  forMu 
this.  Scripture  knows  nothing  of  sucli  diMpaiii\ 
between  tlie  Divine  and  human  natures  as  to  niaki- 
the  idea  of  Incarnation  an  intellectual  impossibility. 
Without  doubt,  the  fact  of  Incarnation  must  be"  a 
theme  of  unending  wonder  and  praise  :  b\it  our 
view  of  it  ought  not  to  be  confoundod  by  the  intru- 
sion of  speculative  difficulties  whirli  ,l,.'iiot  lulong 
to  the  actual  situation.  The  Son  d  (in.l  lirciuue 
man.  He  was  born,  grew,  thou^lit,  willcil,  |.i;iyrd, 
rejoiced,  sulIei-iMl,  died  ;  .-111.1  in  iiii.l  ihrunuh  .-ill  These 
perfectly  Immaii  i'X|.cricnccs  lie  \\a>.  .-inil  was  i-(in- 
scious  of  liciim,  Ihi-  Snii  ot"  (he  I'allicr,  'I'liis  I  livine 
consciousness  wculd,  no  il<iiilit,  i.rolouii.l!y  iiic«lit'v, 
in  His  case,  these  exiieiieiice,.  'I'he  I'lleii,  i,,i  I'l,- 
stance,  of  His  sinlessness  ,-111.1  .if  llislili,-il  n-i.-iii.ii 
to  God  upon  the  exercise  ..f  His  int.-llc.  1  M,ii  1,1.  iii 
ties  must  have  been  such  ,-is  t.>  rais.-  His  kii..\\  I.-.Il 
high  above  that  of  other  men,  and  would  give  to  11 
what  has  been  called  'intensive  infinitude.'  Km 
the  Divine  consciousness  would  not  make  the  human 


experiences  other  or  less  tlian  human.  Surely  it 
ought  to  be  admitted,  once  for  all,  that  humanity, 
as  we  know  it,  is  not  complete,  and  that  it  gains 
completeness  only  as  it  approximates  to  the  Divine 
nature.  It  is  not  so  correct  to  say  that  Jesus  Christ 
was  Divine  and  yet  human,  as  to  say  He  was  Divine 
and  therefore  human. 

(ii.)  It  follows  that  the  human  experiences  of 
such  a  Being  constitute  at  once  a  veiling  and  a 
manifestation  of  the  Divine  glory.  In  the  thinking, 
feeling,  acting,  sufi'ering  of  the  Son,  the  Father  is 
drawing  near  to  His  creatures,  and  achieving  for 
them  the  purpose  both  of  creation  and  of  redemp- 
tion. We  are  to  look  for  the  Divinity  of  Christ, 
not  apart  from  His  Immanity,  but  within  it,  in  the 
facts  of  His  character,  and  in  those  actions  which 
He  performs  and  those  sufl'erings  which  He  endures 
in  closest  fellowship  with  men.  His  human  ex- 
periences, so  far  from  casting  doubt  on  His  Divinity, 
or  seeming  to  be  inconsistent  with  it,  will  be  its  chief 
demonstration,  and  will  constitute  God's  mightiest 
work  for  us.  His  most  moving  appeal  to  us.  This 
Man  is  the  Word  of  God  incarnate. 

(iii.)  Knowledge  of  Christ,  accordingly,  is  per- 
sonal, and,  like  all  personal  knowledge,  is  ethically 
conditioned.  All  constructive  statements  regard- 
ing the  Person  of  Christ,  accordingly,  nmst  be,  to 
a  de'a-ee  not  attained  in  the  older  formularies  of 
the  Church,  synthetic  and  concrete.  We  rise  from 
a  study  of  the  life  and  character  of  Jesus,  and  of 
the  experience  of  those  who  have  come  under  His 
saving  influence,  with  the  conviction  of  His  essen- 
tial Godhead.  We  confess  Him  to  be  the  Son  of 
God.  But  His  Godhead  is  not  to  be  regarded  in 
abstract  separation  from  His  humanity.  It  is  the 
Godliead  of  One  who  is  profoundly  and  truly 
human. 

It  is  Godhead,  as  it  discloses  itself  in  human- 
ity, which  presents  itself  for  our  reverent  study, 
and  our  no  less  reverent  doctrinal  statement. 

From  this  point  of  view  alone  can  the  facts  of 
the  life  of  Christ  be  apprehended.  In  this  light 
alone  can  Christ  be  presented  to  this  genera- 
tion as  the  answer  to  its  need,  the  age-long  need 
of  the  human  spirit,  for  personal  union  with 
God. 

Literature.— (a)  Greek  Philosophy  :  Caird,  Evotulion  0/ 
Theology  in  the  Greek  Philosophers  (1894) ;  Zeller,  Stoics  mid 
Epicureans  ;  Lightfoot,  Dissertations  mi  the  Apostolic  Age,  'St. 
Paul  and  Seneca ' ;  Drummond,  Philo  JudteuSy  and  art.  '  Philo ' 
author  in  Hastings'  DB,  Extra  Vol. 


Be.vschlag,  Keuss,  Stevens  ;  Wendt,  Teaching  ofJesits  ;  Dalman, 

H'oz-./.v  of  JesKS ;  Forrest,  Christ  of  History  and  of  Experience^ 

,1   A  >,!].<  r:iii  „f  Christ;  Shailer  Mathews,  Messianic  Ilope  in 

\  ''  '  :  '     1 ;  .\damson,  Mind  in  Christ;  Bruce,  Training  of 

'  i^uKidom  of  God,  Galilean  Gospel;  Swete,  Studies 

/         ■'!;!  of  our    Lord  (1904);    Zockler's  art.   'Jesus 

'liE^;  Sanday's  art.  'Jesua  Christ'  in  Hastings' 


'Son  of  1 


and  Sanday's  '  Son  of  God,' 

.  _    .., _        ■:r,  Christtis  Consiantnator. 

(d)  Testimony  of  the  Apostlt-s :  AT  Theol.  as  above;  also 
Shailer  Mathews  as  above ;  Hai?on,  Storii  of  St.  Paul ;  a  Com- 
parison of  Acts  and  E^jistles  (1!)04) ;  Knowling,  Testimony  of  St. 
Paul  to  Christ  (190,'i),  note  copious  literature  of  recent  date 
referred  to  in  Lecture )    '        -      -  •      '  ..     ,      - 

(1906). 


Patrick,  James,  the  Lord's  Brother 


(e)  Development  of  Doctrine:  Harnack,£ftst.o/Z)oj)mi;  Loots, 
Leitfaden*  (1906);  (iwalkiii,  Studies  of  Arianism;  Dorner, 
Doctrine  of  tlie  y./v-./'  w  r  /, , ,  '  ,  .alley,  Doctrine  of  the  Incar- 
nation ;  Rivilk.  II  1,1  diiiinitide  J :isua  Christ; 
Schultz,  Die  I.rh.  '  -hr,!  Christi  (1S81);  Herm. 
Schmidt.  ,^wrf-/.,.  '  i  ,i  I.  'Christologie' in  PiLBS; 
Kunze,  Oir  rii;.,-    .,                           I'r'sli  (Uml);  Orr,  Christiayi 

'  1;         '           ■                                      '  '  '  ;  t!  C,  Edwards, 

/'     ',         -                                  ;  ,'     (.lore,  Bampton 

I  I ,  /  /  and  the  Incar- 
;■/  ,,  -,'  11    ,./  (1849);  Illing- 

I   I      /  //  and  Divine,  Divine  Immanence; 

II  \.         /  (    /    lliiology ,   sturt  and  others,  Personal 

III  I     1 1     111    I  I  I  st  in  Modern  Theology,  Philosophy  of 
I  I      I        I       I  T.  B.  IvILPATRICK. 


su 


INCENSE 


INDIVIDUAL 


INCENSE. — The  English  word  comes  from  the 
hat.  intcitsKs,  'burnt'  {iiiceiidere,  '  to  bui-n '),  and 
is  applied  to  the  materials  used  for  making  a  per- 
fume  which  was  emitted  by  the  materials  being 
burned.  These  materials  consist  of  fragrant  gums, 
spices,  and  scents. 

'  Incense '  is  the  usual  tr.  of  BuujtcuM,  wliich  occurs  in  the  NT 
6  times  only  :  Lk  l'"- ",  Rev  6*  83-  -1  1813.  In  the  passages  in 
Rev.  it  is  always  in  the  plural,  and  in  18^3  is  rendered  in  AV  by 
'  odours.'  du/uxf^  is  the  LXX  equivalent  of  Heb.  n-jb,?,  which 
comes  from  lop  '  to  raise  an  odour  by  burning;,'  and  so  'to  burn 
incense.'  Cognate  Gr.  words  are  ^uf/Aotcu,  'to  burn  incense,' 
Lk  19  (i-r.  x.y.  in  NT) ;  and  S^u^aTipin,  He  94  '  censer,'  or  '  altar 
of  incense.'  The  root  of  tliese  words  is  Svcj  =  (1)  'to  be  in  heat,' 
(2)  '  to  burn,'  (3)  '  to  sacrifice  (by  burning) ' ;  see  Grimm-Thayer, 
«.!).,  and  cf.  SK/ie.-  and  «i/.«oa..  The  word  «iy,ti/a,i«t  is  to  be  carefully 
distinguished  from  >.i'^«.«,  'frankincense'  (Heb.  .IJU^).  The 
latter  was  an  ingredient  of  the  former.  /.;ja>»,-  is  found  twice 
in    NT  (Mt  211   and   Rev  1S13,  in  the   latter  together  with 

Incense  came  to  be  used  in  connexion  with  the 
Levitical  worship  in  the  Temple.  Special  care  was 
to  be  taken  in  the  making  of  it  (Ex  Z(fl"-  P). 
Several  passages  in  the  OT  indicate  that  the 
Israelites  came  to  regard  it  (as  they  did  other 
ceremonies)  per  se,  apart  from  its  spiritual  mean- 
ing. Hence  the  denunciations  of  the  prophets  (Is 
1"  etc.).  In  the  NT  it  is  referred  to  only  in  con- 
nexion with  tlie  daily  service  of  the  Temple  (Lk  1), 
and  also  as  part  of  the  symbolical  heavenly  wor- 
ship in  the  Apocalypse.  In  Kev  5«  and  8^-  ■*  it  is 
associated  with  the  prayers  of  the  saints  ;  in  5^ 
apparently  being  identified  with  the  prayers,  and 
in  8'-  ■*  added  to  the  prayers  (cf.  rais  Trpo(revxaTs  in 
both  verses),  as  though  to  render  them  acceptable. 
RV  '  ^Wth '  in  Rev  8*  seems  impossible. 

The  symbolism  seems  to  be  generally  that  of 
worship,  whicli,  like  incense,  asceru/s  from  earth  to 
heaven.  In  Ps  141=  prayer  is  thus  likened  to 
incense.  Godet  (on  Lk  1")  thinks  there  was  a 
dose  connexion  between  the  two  acts  of  burning 
incense  and  ottering  prayer. 

'  The  one  was  the  typical,  ideal,  and  therefore  perfectly  pure 
prayer  ;  the  other  the  real  prayer,  which  was  inevitably  imper- 
fect and  defiled.  The  former  covered  the  latter  with  its 
sanctity,  the  latter  communicated  to  the  former  its  reality  and 
life.    Thus  they  were  the  complement  of  each  other.' 

Incense  is  used  in  worship  in  the  Greek  and 
Roman  Catholic  Churches,  and  by  some  congrega- 
tions in  the  Anglican  Church.  Its  earliest  use  in 
the  Christian  Church  seems  to  have  been  as  a 
fumigant  (so  Tertullian).  No  liturgical  use  is 
kno\vn  for  at  least  4  if  not  5  centuries.  Up  till 
then  it  was  regarded  as  a  relic  of  heathenism.  As 
the  Holy  Communion  came  to  be  regarded  as '  a 
sacrifice,  and  in  some  respects  analogous  to  the 
Jewish  sacrifices,  incense  became  gradually  asso- 
ciated with  Christian  worship.  It  is  at  least  note- 
worthy that  there  is  an  entire  absence  of  any 
reference  to  incense  in  the  Christian  Church  of  the 
NT  in  Acts  and  the  Epistles,  the  only  allusions 
being  those  in  the  symbolism  of  the  Apocalypse. 
May  not  this  be  rightly  regarded  as  an  argumen- 
ficm  e  silentio'i  Having  the  substance,  what  need 
is  there  of  the  shadow  ?  ( Jn  4^-  ^). 

Literature.— Artt.  'Incense,'  'Frankincense'  in  Ha.stings' 
DB  \  •  Incense '  in  Smith's  DCA  ;  Godet  and  Plunnner  on 
Lk  19-11  ;  Speaker'i  Cwn.  on  Rev  58  83  IS". 

W.  H.  Griffith  Tiioma.s. 
INDEPENDENCE.— See  Origixalitv. 

INDIGNATION.— See  ANGER,  and  Fikrceness. 

INDIVIDUAL.— It  has  almo.st  become  a  comnion- 
l)lace  of  Apologetics  that  the  significance  of  the 
individual  is  first  recognized  in  Christianity.  In 
Antiquity  the  idea  that  the  individual  might  stand 
over  against  the  State,  either  through  the  sense  of 
duty  or  the  sense  of  trutli,  was  not  entertained. 


Most  ancient  ci\'ilizations  were  "based  on  slaverj-, 
which  at  once  refused  to  recognize  a  large  section 
of  the  members  of  the  State  as  individuals,  and 
placed  the  individuality  of  the  others  not  on  an 
equal   moral   basis,  but  on   a  basis  of  social   in- 


equality. 
Yet  th 


'et  the  Christian  conception  of  the  individual 
did  not  descend  upon  the  earth  without  any  indica- 
tion of  its  coming.  Socrates  had  instructed  men 
to  know  themselves,  and,  though  his  greatest  dis- 
ciple did  not  consider  this  teaching  inconsistent 
with  a  Republic  in  which  the  family  and  the  most 
sacred  rights  of  the  individual  are  sacrificed  to  the 
interests  of  the  State,  the  real  significance  of  the 
Greek  Philosophy  was  the  gromng  clearness  with 
which  it  went  on  to  bring  out  the  importance  of 
man  to  himself.  Stoicism  insisted  that  a  man's 
dignity  should  not  be  at  the  mercy  of  events, 
and  even  Epicureanism  taught  that  m.an's  surest 
gi'oimd  of  happiness  is  within.  Baur's  conten- 
tion, that  the  chief  preparation  for  Christianity 
was  a  growing  need  for  a  universal,  a  moral  reli- 
gion, is  only  another  way  of  sayin"  that  the 
individual,  not  as  a  free  man,  or  a  cultured  man, 
or  a  member  of  a  Greek  State,  but  as  an  individual, 
was  slowly  coming  to  his  rights. 

This  progress  in  the  Gentile  world,  however,  was 
not  in  any  strict  sense  a  preparation  for  our  Lord's 
teaching,  but,  at  most,  of  the  world  for  receiving  it. 
His  true  foundations  are  in  the  OT,  and  more 
particularly  in  the  prophets.  Here  again  it  is  a 
commonplace  of  theological  thinking  that  the  reli- 
gion of  the  OT  does  not  concern  itself  about  the 
individual  at  all  in  the  same  sense  as  the  reli^on  of 
the  NT.  Worship  is  a  social  and  even  a  civil  act. 
The  God  men  worship  is  the  God  of  their  fathers, 
i.e.  the  God  of  their  race.  The  great  body  of  the 
ritual  exalts  not  the  coven.ant  person,  "but  the 
covenant  people.  Even  the  prophets  have  Aery 
little  to  say  about  individual  piety,  but  concern 
themselves  with  the  rulers  and  the  conduct  of 
society  and  the  destiny  of  the  nation.  We  cannot 
be  sure,  even  in  what  seem  the  most  personal 
Psalms,  that  it  is  not  the  voice  of  a  nation  rather 
than  of  an  individual  that  confesses  sin  and  implores 
help.  This  uncertainty  regarding  the  place  of  the 
individual  is  made  greater  by  the  indistinctness,  at 
least  in  the  earlier  books,  ofthe  hope  of  individual 
immortality,  which,  however  we  may  try  to  get 
round  it,  is  essential  to  any  higli  estimate  of  the 
worth  of  the  individual. 

No  book,  nevertheless,  compares  with  the  OT 
for  the  boldness  with  which  the  individual  stands 
out  in  contrast  and,  if  need  be,  in  opposition  to,  the 
community,  and  that  on  spiritual,  not  social  con- 
siderations. The  standard  of  its  teaching  is  per- 
sonal responsibility,  and  that  ultimately  sets  a 
man  alone  as  an  indi\-idual  with  his  God.  If  it  is  a 
national  and  not  an  individual  hope  the  prophets 
contend  for,  they  place  it  on  an  individual  not  a 
communistic  foundation.  They  are  not  concerned 
to  reform  institutions  or  demand  new  laws.  Tlie 
reform  they  seek  is  of  personal  action  and  manners, 
and  the  law  they  wish  to  sec  nlnyi  ,1  is  God's.  For 
thislawit  is  the  individual  iIkiI  ijnili.-  -the  pres- 
sure of  his  personal  call  Ix-iir^  -o.ji'.ii  ili^it  Ilis  duty 
tofollowitisneverquestiDiii'l.ivcii  ilnnmli  it  sliould 
bring  him  into  conflict  with  linth  tin'  St.ite  and  the 
people.  Ezekiel  may  have  been  tlic  lirst  to  recog- 
nize the  full  significance  of  tliis  .-ittituae.  but  he 
was  by  no  means  the  first  to  take  it  up.  Of  every 
prophet  it  could  be  said,  '  Behold,  I  have  nuide  thy 
face  hard  against  their  faces,  and  thy  forelu'.a<l 
.against  their  foreheads '  (Ezk  3*).  To  eadi  of 
tliem  the  Spirit  of  God  was  a  power  to  help  him  to 
be  true  to  himself.  It  set  each  of  them  on  his  feet 
before  speaking  to  him  (Ezk  T-).  The  very  mark 
of  a  true  prophet  was  to  hear  God's  voice  only,  and 


INDIVIDUAL 


INDIVIDUAL 


815 


not  man's,  and  to  be  true  to  the  individuality  God 
had  given  him,  and  not  to  be  an  echo  of  the  party 
cries  around.  To  have  that  most  selfish  kind  of 
individualism  which  consists  in  agreeing  with  tlie 
majority  of  the  powers  that  be,  was  the  mark  of 
the  false  prophet  (Jer  20). 

Such  an  attitude  of  independence  could  not  be 
taken  up  witliout  a  very  strong  sense  of  the  signi- 
ficance of  the  individual  for  God.  The  significance 
of  the  solitary  figure  of  Jeremiah  could  not  be  less 
because  he  lived  for  the  welfare  of  his  people,  and 
their  ingratitude  left  him  in  isolation.  Kzekiel 
naturally  followed  with  the  application.  Were 
Noah,  Daniel,  and  Job  in  a  wicked  land,  they 
could  but  deliver  their  own  souls  by  their  righteous- 
ness (14").  God  deals  equally  with  all,  and  every 
act  is  weighed,  without  prejudice  either  from  a 
man's  own  past  or  from  the  doings  of  his  fathers 


(v.''). 


"}.      The    soul    that  sinneth,   it  shall   die 


Of  other  OT  writings  the  two  most  important 
are  the  Psalms  and  Job.  Tlie  eye  of  tlie  writers 
may  at  times  be  on  the  nation,  but  even  tliat  is 
part  of  their  personal  piety,  and  to  our  day  the 
unfailing  interest  of  the  Psalms  is  in  the  experience 
of  the  individual  walking  with  las  God.  The  Book 
of  Job  is  wholly  occupied  with  tlie  problem  of  the 
individual,  even  if  this  individual  be  supposed  to 
stand  for  the  nation  ;  and  no  one  has  ever  stated 
with  greater  splendour  of  imagination  or  intel- 
lectual  daring  his  right  to  fair  dealing,  not  only 
from  his  fellow-men  but  from  his  God. 

The  OT  conception  of  the  relation  of  the  moral 
individual  to  God,  moreover,  necessarily  reached 
out  toward  the  hope  of  immortality, — and  that  not 
merely  as  an  extension  of  man's  desires  beyond 
time,  but  as  the  just  requirement  of  an  indiWdnal- 
ity  that  defied  time  and  lived  by  the  eternal. 

That  our  Lord  entered  upon  this  heritage  and 
accepted  the  estimate  of  each  individual  wliich  we 
indicate  by  calling  him  an  immortal  soul,  and  that 
on  the  ground  of  the  OT  conception  of  the  blessed- 
ness of  the  man  whom  God  hears,  appears  from  His 
argument  with  the  Sadducees  (Mt  22^-,  Mk  12'-'', 
Lk  20^),  and  is  a  postulate  of  His  whole  teaching. 
The  saying,  '  What  shall  it  profit  a  man,  if  he  gain 
the  whole  world  and  lose  his  own  soul  ?'  (Mk  8^*), 
may  only  indicate  a  man's  value  to  himself,  and 
the  other,  '  How  much  then  is  a  man  better  than  a 
sheep  !'  (Mt  12'-),  may  not  seem  to  go  very  far. 
Christ's  true  conception  of  the  individual  rather 
appears  in  the  belief  He  offers  for  man's  acceptance 
and  the  dutiy  He  requires  that  man  should  perform. 

Of  this  belief  the  centre  of  everything  is  the 
manifestation  of  the  Father.  As  revealed  through 
the  Son,  He  is  a  Father,  which  means  tliat  He  does 
not,  as  a  mere  Kuler,  deal  with  men  in  groups,  but 
that  each  man  has  to  Him  the  distinctiveness,  the 
importance,  the  whole  significance  he  can  have  to 
himself.  The  side  of  God's  infinity  which  our  Lord 
insists  on,  is  the  infinity  of  His  care  for  the  indivi- 
dual. In  God's  sight  also,  nothing  can  be  given  in 
exchange  for  a  soul.  By  His  care  and  guidance, 
that  frail  thing,  an  inclividual  spirit,  can  walk 
without  anxiety  amid  all  the  forces  which  might 
threaten  his  destruction,  not  only  sure  of  protection, 
but  sure  that  everything  will  be  used  to  serve  his 
true  welfare.  This  attitude  toward  earthly  cares 
is  not  sustained  by  hardness  or  indiflerence,  'but  by 
a  belief  that  God  regards  these  things  as  the 
servants  of  His  children,  whose  individual  well- 
being  He  sets  far  above  material  things.  It  is  not 
a  low  view  of  the  world,  but  a  liigh  view  of  the 
spiritual  individual,  which  our  Lord"  teaches. 

Speaking,  as  He  always  does,  with  this  thought  of 
God  towards  man  in  the  foreground,  Jesus  is  led  to 
dwell  rather  on  the  worth  of  the  insignificant  and 
imperfect  individual  in  the  concrete  than  on  the 


general  worth  of  the  individual  in  the  abstract. 
Hard-hearted  religious  people  spoke  lightly  of 
'this  multitude'  being  'accursed'  (Jn  T").  He 
called  none  accursed,  and  warned  His  followers 
against  calling  any  one  Eaca  (Mt  5^-) ;  and  when 
He  used  the  word  '  lost,'  it  became  in  His  mouth 
tender  and  compassionate  and  full  of  the  heart  of 
God.  The  parables  of  the  Lost  Sheep,  the  Lost 
Piece  of  Money,  and  above  all  of  the  Prodigal  Son 
(Lk  15),  speak  of  God's  unwillingness  to  let  any- 
thing so  precious  as  an  individual  be  lost.  The 
little  child  is  the  type  of  what  is  greatest  (Mt  IS'-  -), 
and  the  little  one  in  moral  stature,  whom  to  otTend 
is  worse  than  death,  is  guarded  by  the  very  angels 
of  the  Presence  (18'"). 

The  same  estimate  of  the  worth  of  the  indivi- 
dual appears  in  the  ideal  of  human  diiti/.  There  is 
no  one,  however  poor  or  hnmble,  who  should  not 
set  before  him  the  goal  of  being  perfect  as  our 
Father  in  heaven  (Mt  5*8).  It  is  better  to  cut  off 
the  right  hand  than  use  another  individual  for  our 
lusts,  or  to  put  out  an  eye  than  purpose  such  a  thing 
(5-'"*).  Most  distinctive  is  the  duty  of  forgiveness. 
Our  Lord  takes  for  granted  that  it  will  be  diffi- 
cult. We  shall  have  so  much  respect  for  our  own 
individuality  that  we  must  be  hurt,  and  for  the 
individuality  of  others  that  we  cannot  pass  over 
their  faults  easily.  Only  by  rising  to  the  height 
of  God's  thought  can  we  hope  to  attain  to  God's 
way  of  dealing  mtli  the  unthankful  and  evil.  We 
are  to  understand  that  God  also  does  not  pardon 
lightly.  He  does  not  regard  the  whole  mass  of 
good  and  bad  indifferently.  On  the  contrary,  He 
sets  each  individual  before  Him  as  something  of 
great  significance  to  Him,  something  whereby  He 
can  be  deeply  hurt  and  grieved,  and  then,  out  of 
the  same  love  that  can  be  hurt.  He  pardons  him. 
It  is  the  significance  of  the  individual  that  gives 
its  whole  importance  to  the  doctrine  of  pardon, 
whether  on  God's  part  or  on  man's. 

But  the  very  greatness  of  this  relation  to  God 
might  seem  to  withdraw  something  from  the  distinc- 
tiveness of  man  as  an  individual.  The  worth  of  the 
individual  is  not  ultimately  from  himself  but  from 
God.  '  If  a  man  abide  not  i'unie,  he  is  east  forth  as  a 
branch,  and  is  withered'  (.In  I.V).  This  might  almost 
seem  to  be  a  denial  that  th^'ic  is  smh  a  thing  as  an 
individual.  "The  individual  would  then  be  a  mere 
manifestation  of  God.  Spinoza's  formula,  otmiix 
determinatio  est  negatio,  would  obtain,  and  the 
assertion  of  one's  own  individuality  w-ould  only  be 
as  cutting  off  a  certain  portion  of  the  air  with  a 
knife.  But  the  inalienable  secret  of  the  gospel  is 
that  it  enables  a  man  to  find  God  and  himself  at 
the  same  time.  It  does  not  deal  with  the  endless 
substance,  but  with  a  Father.  That  He  is  an  indi- 
vidual is  not  His  limitation,  but  the  condition 
of  all  His  greatness  ;  for  it  is  the  condition  of 
His  working  by  love,  and  love  is  greater  than 
power.  Conversion  is  thus  not  only  a  turning  to 
God,  but  a  finding  of  oneself  (Lk  15"),  and  a  com- 
ing to  one's  true  home  and  to  one's  right  posses- 
sion. While  no  succour  of  God  fails  a  man  who 
will  have  it,  it  remains  a  necessity  of  God's  love  to 
set  a  man  by  himself  in  the  task  of  working  out 
his  own  destiny.  He  is  allowed  to  go  into  the  far 
country  and  waste  his  substance.  In  all  the  de- 
scriptions which  glance  out  into  the  future  tliere  is 
a  strange  aloneness  of  the  indivi.lu.il  who  has  gone 
his  own  way,  into  which  God  Iliui^ilf  cannot 
intrude.  Just  because  every  human  ]iiTsoiiality  is 
so  definitely  an  individual,  we  cannot  be  sure  that, 
in  the  end, "there  may  not  be  a  lost  individual.  A 
relation  of  love  in  Christ's  sense  necessarily  means 
a  relation  of  individuals,  and  that  means  such  a 
marking  oft'  of  a  man  from  God  that  even  God 
cannot  enter  that  personality  again,  except  the 
door  is  opened  to  Him,  as  it  were,  from  the  inside. 


810 


IXDIYIDUAL 


IXDIYIDUALISM 


This  liigh  gift  of  being  an  individual  with  the 
possibility  of  being  a  cliild  of  God,  carries  with  it 
also  the  ijossibility  of  such  exclusion  of  good  as 
can  make  him  a  child  of  the  wicked  one  (Mt  13^). 
Nor  does  the  closest  relation  to  God  absorb  the 
individual.  Whatever  ordinances  there  may  be  for 
public  worship,  the  distinctive  position  is  to  enter 
into  our  closet  and  shut  to  the  door,  and  be  witli 
our  Father  who  sees  in  secret  (Mt  6*).  There  is  an 
individual  hearing  and  an  indiWdual  answering, 
which,  however  little  our  minds  may  compass  it,  are 
essential  both  in  God's  giving  and  in  man's  receiv- 
ing. Just  as  there  is  a  strange  pitiful  isolation  of 
tlie  individual  who  rejects  God,  so  there  is  a 
strange  saving  of  his  own  individuality  in  losing  it, 
in  the  soul  that  ftnds  God.  That  we  remain  indi- 
viduals is  as  essential  to  the  relationship  as  that 
we  find  our  joy  in  another  individuaL  The  revela- 
tion of  the  Father  in  the  Son  must  preclude  all 
idea  of  absorption  in  God. 


This  is  the  ground  of  Ritschl's  contention  not  only  against  a 
Catholicism  which  bears  down  the  individual  by  the  weight  of 
the  institution,  but  also  against  a  mysticism  which  reduces  all 
individuals  to  mere  personality,  upon  which  a  Spirit,  Himself 
mere  personality,  operates  not  as  individual  with  individual, 
but  as  abstract  spiritual  force  upon  abstract  spiritual  substance. 
~"  ■  "nterpret 


His  «., 


t  having  come  in  His  place  to  bring 
jrance  (Jn  1426).  Ritschl  argues  that 
ion  in  the  Scriptures  on  the  one  hand, 
by  the  experiences  and  duties  of  life 


on  the  other.  The  tend 
but  also  to  ignore  possibilities  in  man  ;  yet  his  main  contention 
is  of  greiit  value,  and  it  helps  us  to  understand  the  patient 
humanness  of  God's  revelation,  if  we  take  it  to  be  a  dialogue  in 
which  God  could  not  speak  the  next  word  till  man  had  responded 
to  the  last. 

The  onlj'  influences  our  Lord  used  were  the 
appeals  of  wisdom  and  love.  In  every  case  He 
respected  the  individuality  of  another,  and  sought 
to  make  men  realize  how  much  they  were  to  them- 
selves as  well  as  to  God.  When  any  influence 
appeared  as  a  substitute  for  personal  choice.  He 
sternly  repressed  it.  He  trusted  no  general  move- 
ment, and  appealed  to  nothing  occult.  He  Avas 
always  willing  to  leave  a  crowd  for  an  individual 
(Mk  P',  Lk  4''^  Jn  6'=).  The  only  miracle  He 
ever  wrought  for  the  multitude  He  used  for  sift- 
ing them  and  for  gathering  individuals  from  among 
them  (Jn  6").  And  when  a  crowd  did  gather  to 
hear  Him  preach,  He  gave  them  most  individual 
teaching.  He  never  departed  from  the  method  of 
being  an  individual  dealing  with  individuals,  and 
from  requiring  of  them  the  most  individual  of 
actions— repentance  and  obedience  to  one's  own 
call. 

Nor  is  the  individual  overborne  by  the  society  (see 
artt.  Church,  Kingdom  of  God,  Individual- 
ism). Here  it  suffices  to  say  that  it  is  just  the  dis- 
tinctive place  Christ  assigned  to  the  individual  that 
marks  His  Church  off  from  the  world,  and  His  king- 
dom as  a  Kingdom  of  Heaven,  a  Kingdom  of  God. 
A  kingdom  which  treats  its  subjects  as  mere  pawns 
in  a  great  game,  is,  in  that  very  act,  marked  as 
temporal.  Other-worldliness,  indeed,  is  not  the 
mind  of  Christ,  and  the  attempt  to  derive  every- 
thing from  the  far-sighted  selfishness  which  does 
'  good  according  to  the  will  of  God  and  for  the  sake 
everlasting  happiness,'  leaves  no 


highest  things  of  Christianitj'. 

we  .-i.-.'  .-il.l.-  .■■■,1,,,'lv  lu  r,T,',unizi'  tliat  tl..-  inTi'ix  1,1, ml 

s'hou'l.l  ilt'.-ontciit  to  Inu  ,_!,',  m"the"  Hvi'-  ..'t\',i  hi'is 
and  that  the  Kingdom  of  God  is  everything  iind 
the  individual  nothing.  The  Kingdom  of  God  is 
not  thereby  exalted.  Nay,  there  can  be  no  King- 
dom of  God,  but  a  mere  fleeting  earthly  Utopia. 
If  the  individual  is  obliterated,  then,  in  view  of 
the  endless  ages,  but  a  moment  more,  and  the 
society  is  obliterated  as  well.      It  becomes  the 


Kingdom  of  God  only  when  it  deals  with  the 
eternal,  and  that  must  always  be  the  individual. 
It  is  of  God  and  not  of  mere  human  regulation 
just  because  it  respects  the  individual — his  choice, 
his  peace,  his  freedom  ;  because  it  is  a  society  of 
persons  not  constrained  by  force  to  a  common  pur- 
pose, but  attuned  to  it  by  love  and  wisdom.  All 
our  Lord  says  of  His  society  speaks  of  an  associa- 
tion in  which  its  members  wUl  realize  what  the 
Apostle  calls  the  glorious  liberty  of  the  children  of 
God,  and,  so  long  as  the  Church  is  content  to 
stand  over  against  men  as  an  institution  claiming 
external  authority,  Christ's  great  problem  of  how- 
men  were  at  once  to  live  wholly  for  the  Kingdom 
of  God,  and  not  surrender  their  Christian  freedom, 
their  rights  as  individuals,  remains  unsolved.  (For 
the  general  philosophical  questions  regarding  the 
individual,  see  art.  Personality). 

One  question  yet  remains.  Can  a  person  whose 
isolation  has  been  thus  defined  to  himself,  ever 
again  pass  into  the  great  undis'tinguishable  mass  ? 
According  to  the  orthodox  conception,  indiA^du- 
ality,  though  a  mere  containing  wall,  is  so  ada- 
mantine, that,  whatever  it  may  contain,  it  must 
abide.  Ritschl.  for  one,  argues  that  an  alienation 
from  God  «hiih  i\ir  highest  love  cannot  overcome, 
mustiiieuii  :iiimliilaU',ii.  The  verj"  idea  of  a  reality 
so  import:iiit  a>  to  In-  inextinguishable,  while  all 
its  manife.>t;itiiiii^  ilcuiaud  its  extinction,  he  would 
ascribe  to  tlie  pernicious  influence  of  the  abstract 
Platonic  idea  of  the  .soul.  Nor  can  it  be  said  that 
in  the  Gospels,  or  anywhere  else  in  Scripture,  there 
is  any  metaphysical  basis  of  a  Platonic  kind  for  a 
necessary  individual  immortalitj'.  The  Scripture 
hope  is  not  in  man,  but  in  the  character  of  God, 
and  we  cannot  suppose  Him  under  any  necessity 
to  continue  evil  for  its  o^vn  sake.  On  the  other 
hand,  if,  as  Ritschl  maintains,  the  personality  of 
God  and  man  is  individual,  and  pantheism  is  wholly 
an  abandonment  of  the  religious  problem,  which  is 
how  to  maintain  the  spiritual  personality  against 
the  whole  material  universe,  through  belief  in  the 
exalted  Power  that  rules  above  it,  it  remains  a 
problem  whether  evil  can  ever  attain  such  power 
as  to  be  able  to  blot  out  for  God  an  individual. 

Literature. — The  whole  of  modern  philosophy  is  concerned 
with  the  problem  of  the  individual,  but  special'  mention  ma\- 
be  made  of:  Spinoza.  Elliics;    Hume,  Human  Nature;   Leib- 

iiit  .  '-  /',;,:'■  I.iK  njiti;  Kant,  Anthropoioffie ;  J.  H. 
I  '  '  'i      I'       I  ■  /'   ■  -.iiUchkrit   xind  der  individmtUn 

/  .    "  !   -       It^Lite  Shaler,  The  Individual:  A 

> '  /  !  'I  'J ;  Doud,  Evolution  of  the  Indi- 

■  .'.'.  l:-  I  .  l:  -  ill-,  -\r  TheoL.  esp.  vol.  i.  125-187  (Eng. 
tr. );  Lemme,  i  iir,t,tin-hf  Ethik,  esp.  §  10;  Kretschmar,  Das 
ChristUche  J'ersonlichkeits  Ideal,  1898;  J.  R.  Illing\vorth,  Per- 
sonality. John  O.man. 

INDIYIDDALISM.-The  word  individualism  is 
used  in  two  senses,  and  the  difference  of  meaning 
is  constantlj'  employed  in  order  to  discredit  one  set 
of  ideas  by  arguing  against  the  other.  In  a  general 
way  the  uses  may  be  distinguished  by  calling  the 
one  philosophical  and  the  other  political.  Indi- 
vidualism, in  the  philosophical  sense,  attempts  to 
derive  everything  from  the  intellect  and  the  in- 
terests of  tjie  individual.  However  much  a  man 
derives  from  others,  he  ultimately  depends,  it 
argues,  on  his  own  judgment  and  li'is  five  senses  ; 
and,  however  benevolent  he  may  be,  all  his  motives 
have  their  source  in  self-love.  Descartes  started 
to  reconstruct  our  whole  knowledge  from  the  indi- 
vidual's knowledge  of  himself,  and  his  successors 
naturally  sought  to  construct  our  whole  activity 
from  the  individual's  love  to  himself.  Shaftesbury 
and  Butler  liad  to  affirm  almost  as  a  discovery 
that  benevolence  is  as  true  and  real  a  part  o"f 
human  nature  as  self-love.  Only  after  Hume  had 
reduced  this  kind  of  individualism  to  sensation- 
alism, leaving  the  individual  himself  a  mere  series 
of  sensations,   and   after  Spinozism  began   to   be 


INDIVIDUALISM 


INDIVIDUALISM 


poured  into  the  waters  of  speculation,  was  it  seen 
that  man  could  not  be  understood  alone,  but  only 
in  his  whole  context. 

It  is  needless  to  prove  that  this  kind  of  indi- 
vidualism is  not  maintained  by  the  Scriptures. 
And  still  less  is  it  necessary  to  show  that  it  is  not 
our  Lord's  reading  of  human  nature.  The  creature 
that  is  made  in  the  image  of  God  is  not  made  for 
himself.  The  creed  that  says,  '  If  any  man  will 
come  after  me,  let  him  deny  himself  (Mt  le--"), 
believes  that  it  finds  something  more  in  man  than 
even  the  wisest  self-love  to  which  it  can  appeal. 
The  individual  does  not,  it  is  true,  lose  in  Christ's 
service.  On  the  contrary,  he  will  receive  an 
hundredfold,  and,  over  and  above,  life  everlasting 
(Mt  19*^).  But  that  is  only  after  he  has  learned 
the  secret  of  forsaking  all,  after  he  has  been  taught, 
not  of  his  own  self-interest,  but  after  he  has  been 
drawn  by  the  Father  from  all  self-regard  (Jn  6^'). 
This  possibility  in  man,  our  Lord  recognizes,  was 
also  taught  by  the  prophets,  who  wrote,  '  And  they 
shall  all  be  taught  of  God '  {v.*^}.  To  be  taught  of 
God  means  to  be  saved  from  this  kind  of  indi- 
vidualism, to  discover  that  it  is  not  our  right 
position  and  not  our  true  selves,  but  is  alienation 
from  our  true  life  and  our  true  home ;  it  is  to 
learn  that  not  only  is  love  part  of  our  nature,  but 
that  we  have  never  found  ourselves  at  all  tUl  it 
takes  us  out  of  ourselves  (Lk  17'^  Mt  W). 

Philosophical  Individualism,  however,  is  not  only 
perfectly  consistent  with  the  appeal  to  authority 
which  the  other  kind  of  individualism  rejects,  but  it 
is  almost  entirely  dependent  upon  such  an  authority 
for  any  e.xplanation  of  the  social  order.  On  the  other 
hand,  what  we  have  called  Political  Individualism 
is  frequently  maintained  precisely  on  the  ground 
that  man  is  not,  in  the  sense  of  belonging  only  to 
himself,  individualistic,  but  has  his  true  social 
quality  within  himself.  '  Individualism '  in  this 
other  sense  means  the  rights  of  the  individual  over 
against  authority,  a  position  which  does  not,  as  is 
usually  assumed,  involve  logically  the  other  indi- 
vidualism, the  individualism  of  every  man  for 
himself.  It  is  not  a  denial  of  the  necessity  of  a 
corporate  existence  or  of  the  value  of  society.  Its 
real  opposite  is  Communism,  and  the  real  point  at 
issue  IS  whether  society  depends  on  the  individual 
or  the  individual  on  society.  Both  Individualism 
and  Communism,  of  course,  would  admit  a  mutual 
inter-relation,  but  the  question  is  which  is  first, 
the  individual  or  the  social  institution,  and  wliich 
is  to  be  our  chief  reliance,  the  good-will  of  the 
individual  or  the  control  of  the  social  machinery. 
So  far  is  this  kind  of  individualism  from  involving 
individualism  in  the  other  sense,  that  it  rather 
assumes  that  all  the  elements  for  the  highest  social 
state  exist  in  each  man,  and  would  come  to  fruition, 
if  only  the  external  hindrances  could  be  removed. 
On  this  latter  question,  it  must  be  admitted,  our 
Lord's  attitude  is  mueli  more  difficult  to  determine. 

Of  this  practical  individualism  there  are  several  types.  First, 
there  is  the  individualism  of  Nietzsche,  to  whom  every  altruistic 
feelinsr  is  the  mere  unreasoning,'  instinct  of  the  herd.  Tliat  kind 
of  individuahsm  stood  at  the  foot  of  the  Cross,  and  said,  '  He 
saved  others,  himself  he  cannot  save,'  and  saw  in  the  position 
the  height  of  ahsurdity.  Then  there  is  the  vigorous  Philistine 
individualism  of  Herbert  Spencer.  It  conceives  man  as  a  creature 
with  five  senses  and  ten  Angers,  who  needs  nothing  on  earth 
but  a  free  field  and  no  favour,  whose  chief  duty  to  the  human 
race  is  to  secure  its  progress  by  making  the  weakest  go  to  the 
wall.  The  text  it  most  firmly  believes  in,  in  the  whole  Bible, 
is,  '  He  becometh  poor  that  dealeth  with  aslack  hand' ;  and  wh.at 
it  cannot  away  with  in  Jesus  is  that  He  told  people  to  give  to 
everyone  who  asked,  and  to  sell  all,  and  give  to  the  poor,— a 
frightful  encouragement  to  laziness  and  mendicancy,  and  a 
most  hurtful  interference  with  the  law  of  the  survival  of  the 
fittest.  A^ain,  there  is  the  individualism  of  Mr.  Auberon  Herbert 
and  the  Free  Life.  In  its  eyes  men  are  cjuite  free  to  part 
with  everything  they  have,  and  it  is  believed  they  would  part 
with  it  for  the  best  purposes,  if  it  were  not  that  they  are  robbed 
and  also  debased  by  being  blackmailed  under  the  name  of  taxes. 
'  Bumble '  ia  the  true  name  and  nature  of  all  authorities,  it  having 
been  their  way  in  all  time  to  muddle  everything,  doing  it 
VOL.  I. — 52 


wastefully  and  doing  it  badly.  Freedom,  on  the  other  hand,  is 
man's  highest  privilege,  and  would,  if  it  could  get  a  chance,  be 
his  surest  guidance.  Force,  which  is  the  sole  instrument  of  the 
State,  has  only  one  right  application.  It  has  a  right  to  resist 
force,  to  suppress  violence.  The  State  is,  when  it  keeps  to  its 
own  sphere,  sijnply  the  big  policeman,  'a  terror  to  evil-doers,' 
and  also,  in  so  far  as  it  kindly  lets  them  alone,  'a  praise  to 
them  that  do  well.'  With  less  hesitation  regarding  conse- 
quences, this  individualism  reasserts  J.  S.  Mill's  principle,  '  that 
the  sole  end  for  which  mankind  are  warranted,  individually  or 
collectively,  in  interfering  with  the  liberty  of  action  of  any  of 
their  number,  is  self-protection.'  Finally,  there  is  the  indi- 
vidualism of  Count  Tolstoi,  the  basis  of  which  he  finds  in  the 
Gospels  themselves.  '  Judge  not,  that  ye  be  not  judged,'  applies 
as  much  to  a  man  in  his  official  capacity  as  in  his  private,  and 
'  Resist  not  evil '  is  required  from  the  community  as  much  as  from 
the  individual.  No  man  is  ever  so  much  wiser  and  better  than 
his  fellows  that  he  can  have  the  right  in  any  capacity  to  take 
over  the  regulation  of  their  lives,  and  the  very  goal  of  history  is 
to  teach  the  folly  and  wickedness  of  any  body  of  men  trying  to 
bear  rule  over  others,— a  philosophy  of  history  somewhat  akin 
to  St.  Paul's  conception  of  the  dispensation  of  the  Law  as  meant 
to  shut  all  up  unto  disobedience  (Ro  1132). 

The  kindliness  of  the  Socialists  towards  Tolstoi  seems  at  first 
sight  inexplicable,  for  nothing  could  be  more  opposed  to  their 
method  than  this  rejection  of  all  visible  authorities.  The 
Socialist,  moreover,  has  the  same  sympathy  with  Christ's 
teaching.  Take,  e.g.,  Headlam's  Fabian  Tract,  No.  42.  The 
teaching  of  Jesus,  he  affirms,  had  hardly  anything  to  do  with 
a  life  after  death,  but  a  great  deal  to  do  vrith  a  Kingdom  of  God, 
which  is  a  righteous  society  to  be  established  upon  earth. 
Christ's  works  were  secular,  socialistic  works.  Whatever  may 
be  said  of  His  miracles  of  raising  the  dead,  they  show  that  the 
death  of  a  young  person  was  a  monstrous,  disorderly  thing  to 

nen  would  live  in  a  ratii      '  .     ,  ,    . 

brotherhood,  they  would  be  clothed 
His  denunciations  were  for  those  who  oppressed  the  poor  ;  and 
the  man  whom  He  spoke  of  as  in  hell,  was  the  man  who  calmly 
accepted  the  difference  between  the  rich  and  the  poor ;  while 
the  persons  who  were  on  the  right  hand  at  the  Judgment,  were 
those  who  had  taken  pains  to  know  that  people  were  properly 
clothed  and  fed.  The  Christian  society  was  meant  to  do  on  a 
large  scale  the  social  work  which  Jesus  had  done  on  a  small. 
Jesus  ordained  Baptism  to  receive  every  human  child  as  equal 
into  His  Church,  and  the  Eucharist  to  be  a  sacrament  of 
equal  brotherhood ;  and  He  made  the  first  word  in  His  prayer 


the  1 


of 


describes  Him 


equality  of  brethren.  The  SoTig  ( 
putting  down  the  mighty  from  tlieir  seats  and  sending  the  rich 
empty  away,  and  His  Apostles  insist  on  every  man  labouring, 
and  on  the  labourer,  not  the  capitalist,  liein;^'  first  partaker  of 
the  fruits.  If,  therefore,  '  you  want  to  be  a  good  Christian,  you 
must  be  something  very  much  like  a  good  Socialist.'  The  Church, 
we  are  told,  is  fettered,  and  ineffective  for  carrying  out  this 
task,  but  much  '  may  be  done  by  those  Churchmen  who  remem- 
ber that  the  State  is  a  sacred  organization  as  well  as  the 
Church,'  and  who  are  willing  to  help  to  seize  it  for  the  good  of 
the  people.  Their  first  task,  strangely,  will  be  to  free  the 
Church  from  the  fetters  of  the  State,  for  one  would  rather  have 
imagined  that  the  logical  conclusion  should  have  been  Rothe's 
position,  that  it  is  the  business  of  the  Church  so  to  labour  that 
ultimately  it  may  be  absorbed  in  the  Christian  State. 

This  exposition  clearly  shows  the  reason  for  sympathy  wHh 
Tolstoi.  It  is  a  case  of  extremes  meeting.  Extreme  Individ- 
uahsm and  extreme  Socialism  are  both  alike  conscious  of  the 
present  distress.  Individualism  is  as  little  satisfied  as  Socialism 
with  twelve  millionaires  dining  at  one  end  of  London  and  find- 
ing the  cultivated  globe  too  small  to  please  their  palates,  and  at 
the  other  a  million  and  a  half  of  their  fellow-creatures  not  know- 
ing whether  they  will  have  any  dirmer  at  all.  Than  this,  both 
are  a  great  deal  nearer  the  position  of  HItu  who  said,  '  Sell  that 
ye  have,  and  give  alms'  (Lk  1233),  '  Woe  unto  you  who  are  rich' 
(62^),  who  denounced  the  robbery  of  the  widow  and  the  orphan, 
and  no  doubt  included  every  form  of  ruthless  competition 
whereby  the  strong  get  advantage  of  the  weak.  Competition 
has  become  a  sacred  word  in  these  days,  but  it  never  has  been 
a  Christian  word,  and  if  some  higher  law  does  not  rule  above 
it,  the  fittest  that  wiU  survive  by  it  will  not  be  the  best  but  only 
the  most  rapacious. 

Extreme  Socialism  and  extreme  Individualism,  moreover, 
have  this  in  common,  that  both  carry  on  their  propaganda  in 
the  interests  of  the  individual  and  in  the  hope  of  arriving 
at  a  better  state  of  society.  The  Individualist  thinks  a  better 
society  can  be  formed  only  out  of  better  individuals,  and  regards 
force  as  the  great  obstacle  ;  whereas  the  Socialist  thinks  the 
individual  will  never  have  a  chance  in  the  present  kind  of 
social  conditions.  That  Christ  aimed  both  at  creating  a  better 
individual  and  a  better  society  needs  no  proof,  and  it  must 
further  be  recognized  that  the  society  He  Himself  created,  con- 
sidered a  voluntary  community  of  goods  at  least  in  agreement 
with  the  spirit  of  His  teaching  (see  art.  Wealtu).  The  em- 
phasis which  the  leaders  put  on  this  voluntary  aspect  of  com- 
munism distinguishes  Christianity  clearly  from  Socialism,  but 
still  the  experiment  indicates  that,  in  a  more  Christian  society, 
the  Socialist  ideal  might  be  accomplislied  in  anotlier  way.  \V  ith 
our  present  concentration  on  material  well-being,  the  end  of 
competition  would  be  almost  the  end  of  individuality  :  but  if  our 
real  Ufe  were  less  lived  by  bread  alone,  if  our  true  individuality 
were  dependent  on  higher  concerns,  we  might  come  to  cultivate 
together  the  soil  of  the  earth  and  enjoy  togethe 
duces  as  much  in  common  as  we 


:  that  moves  on  its 


INDIVIDUALISM 


INDH^IDUALISM 


surface  and  the  water  that  comes  down  its  hills,  and  we  should 
then  be  enabled  to  accept  many  of  Christ's  commands  as  literal 
which  we  can  only  now  live  with  as  figfnres  of  speech. 

One  feels  in  reading  the  Gospels  that  -nhat  is 
more  alien  to  them  than  either  Individualism  or 
Socialism,  is  the  current  amalgam  of  both,  -whicli 
defends  all  the  Indi\-idualism  that  means  per- 
sonal profit  and  all  the  Socialism  that  means 
personal  security  and  dignity,  which  finds  all  our 
Lord's  concessions  literal  and  all  His  demands 
figurative.  The  typical  attitude,  though  not 
usually  expressed  so  bluntly,  is  Loisy's.  Christ, 
he  says,  conceived  the  Kingdom  of  God,  which  He 
thought  was  at  hand,  as  the  great  social  panacea. 
Though  He  enforced  it  with  the  enthusiasm  and 
excess  which  are  necessary  to  implant  any  great 
ideal,  it  was  quite  im workable  in  this  rough 
Avorld.  There  rose  up  in  place  of  it,  therefore,  the 
Church  with  its  authorities  for  belief  and  for  con- 
duct, that  useful,  practical,  enduring  compromise 
between  the  individual  and  tlie  religious  society. 
It  is  this  combination  wliich  mo=-t  of  our  country- 
men who  love  compromise  as  tlie  oU,  if  not  the 
water,  of  life,  are  concerned  to  maintain  ;  and  when 
they  welcome  the  passin"  of  IndiWdualism,  they 
mean  to  hail  the  revival  of  the  power  of  the  Wsible 
authorities  ;  and  when  they  object  to  Socialism, 
they  only  mean  that  they  do  not  approve  of  the 
purposes  for  which  the  power  is  to  be  used. 

The  method  of  Socialism,  nevertheless,  is  not  the 
method  of  the  gospel,  and  the  usual  course  of  the 
Socialist  is  that  which  Mr.  Headlam  follows, — to 
prove  that  the  aims  of  Socialism  are  Christ's,  and 
then  take  for  granted  that  He  would  approve  of 
the  means  proposed  for  attaining  them.  Even 
supposing  we  make  the  large  concession  of  grant- 
ing the  exegesis,  we  still  do  not  find  the  slightest 
attempt  to  show  that  our  Lord  ever  in  any  way 
trusted  to  the  State  as  the  instrument  for  accom- 
plishing His  design.  The  usual  way  of  avoiding 
this  difficulty  is  to  say  that  He  could  not  be  ex- 
pected to  look  to  a  Pagan  State  as  we  are  justified 
in  looking  to  the  Christian  State.  To  this  there 
are  two  very  evident  replies.  First,  Is  the  State 
ever  Christian  in  our  Lord's  sense  ?  Second,  It 
was  not  the  Pagan  but  the  Tlieocratic  State  our 
Lord  dealt  ivith  nearly  all  His  days.  It  was  there 
waiting  to  be  adopted  ;  yet  He  lived  chiefly  in 
conflict  with  it,  and  He  never  attempted  to  reform 
it  or  work  through  it.  He  certainly  expected  His 
followers  to  have  a  good  deal  to  do  vrith  States  and 
kings  and  governors,  but  it  would  be  in  an  ex- 
tremely indi^Tidualistic  position  (Mt  10'*),  and  all 
that  was  expected  of  them  was  not  to  fear  them 
that  kill  the  body,  but  are  not  able  to  kill  the  soul 
(v.=*).  Our  Lord's  action  was  not  revolutionary  in 
the  sense  of  actually  overtlirowing  existing  insti- 
tutions, but  He  cannot  be  said  to  have  clierished 
them.  A  certain  regard  was  to  be  paid  to  the 
Scribes  and  Pharisees  who  sat  in  Moses'  seat  (Mt 
23-),  but  He  also  subjected  them  to  sucli  criticism 
as  must  have  sapped  their  power.  He  Himself 
so  far  honoured  tlie  religious  institutions  as  not  to 
oppose  them  ;  but  the  only  evil  He  ever  put  His 
hand  to  the  task  of  reforming,  was  that  which 
disturbed  the  private  worshipper  (Mt  21'-"'*,  Jn 
2"""),  and  His  entire  indifference  to  ceremonial 
purity  rejected  a  great  deal  of  the  institution  to 
the  advantage  of  the  indiWdual. .  All  tliis  might 
seem  to  refer  rather  to  the  Church  than  the  State  ; 
but  if  He  distrusted  the  leadership  of  the  former. 
He  would  not  be  likely  any  more  to  trust  the 
leadership  of  the  latter,  if  it  took  over  the  guid- 
ance of  life.  It  also  would  be  the  blind  leading  tlie 
blind.  What  our  Lord  manifestly  expects  to  see, 
is  what  He  calls  the  seed  of  the  Kingdom  (Mt  13^), 
tliose  who  in  every  place  are  worthy,  who  are  jire- 
1  lights  shining  in  a  dark  place.    Why 


pared  to  be  as  ] 


should  He  speak  of  the  result  as  a  Kingdom  of  God 
at  all,  if,  in  the  final  issue,  it  is  only  of  man's  regu- 
lation ?  Tlie  meaning  certainly  lies  very  near,  that 
it  was  a  kingdom  of  souls  regulated  only  by  love, 
a  kingdom  of  souls  bent  on  a  direct  serWce  and 
obedience  to  God,  and  requiring  no  other  rule. 
This  fundamental  distinction  between  it  and  all 
other  earthly  kingdoms  would  seem  to  be  the  very 
reason  for  calling  it  of  God. 

This  view  is  confirmed  by  what  seems  the  most 
coniTncing  explanation  of  our  Lord's  temptations. 
To  suppose  that  He  was  tempted  merely  by  His 
ovra  hunger  and  love  of  success  and  love  of  praise, 
is  to  ascribe  to  Him  motives  which  had  no  poAver 
over  Him  at  other  times.  But  if  they  are  tempta- 
tions of  His  work,  the  temptation  to  provide  a 
kingdom  with  fulness  of  bread  and  to  rule  by 
accepting  the  methods  of  force  in  the  State  an'd 
of  display  in  the  Church,  we  see  how  He  could  be 
touched  in  His  deepest  interests.  When  He  turned 
from  that  way  to  the  road  that  led  by  a  solitary 
path  to  Calvary,  to  call  many,  but  to  choose  only 
the  few  who  also  would  be  prepared  to  walk  in  it. 
He  surely  decided  to  look  to  the  individual  to  save 
the  institution,  and  not  to  the  institution  to  save 
the  indi-v-idual.  In  view  of  all  this,  it  cannot  be 
questioned  that  the  aristocrat  in  his  peasant's  dress, 
digging  his  bread  out  of  the  earth,  and  liA-ing  as  if 
the  social  revolution  had  come,  in  the  high  con- 
viction that  the  Divine  way  is  personal  surrender 
and  not  social  super\T.sion,  represents  Christ's 
attitude  better  than  the  respectable  persons  who 
meantime  take  all  the  present  system  of  competi- 
tion will  give,  while  they  wait  for  salvation  from 
the  action  of  the  State. 

But  Socialism  only  makes  a  pretence  of  being 
workable  through  the  State,  by  ignoring  the  bear- 
ing which  its  action  would  have  on  the  whole  life 
of  the  indi\-idual,  and  it  is  with  this  larger  ques- 
tion that  our  Lord  is  concerned.  His  Kingdom  is 
not  of  this  world,  and  its  treasures  are  not  upon 
earth,  and  it  only  concerns  itself  vdth  the  things 
upon  earth  as  tliey  have  to  do  ^Wtli  the  great 
treasure  in  heaven,  which  is  character,  and  the 
great  rule  of  the  Kingdom,  which  is  love.  That 
He  expected  this  idea  to  be  embodied  in  an  earthly 
society  is  plain,  for  the  beginnings  of  it  arose  in 
His  own  lifetime.  But  it  was  to  be  a  very  singular 
society,  in  whicli  none  was  to  exercise  authority 
on  one  hand,  and  none  to  call  any  man  master  on 
the  other.  The  only  dignity  was  to  be  seri'ice ; 
and  the  higher  the  position,  the  lowlier  one  should 
serve.  Nothing  can  reconcile  this  with  the  ecclesi- 
astical embodiment  of  it  in  all  ages,  wherein  the 
true  succession  has  been  placed  in  the  officials,  who 
determined  not  only  action  but  belief,  and  who 
have  penetrated  further  into  the  inner  sanctuarj- 
of  the  indiA-idual  life  than  any  earthly  government 
that  ever  existed.  But  no  one  recognized  more 
fully  than  Christ  Himself  that  the  channels  by 
which  His  influence  would  go  do«-n  would  inter- 
mingle their  clay  ^rttli  the  pure  waters ;  and  to 
a.ssunie  that  any  organization  is  more  than  a  dim 
human  attempt  at  reaching  out  towards  His  ideal, 
is  to  neglect  His  ovm  warnings.  As  the  believer 
must  be  in  the  world,  so  he  must  be  in  the  insti- 
tution— in  it  but  not  of  it,  always  retaining  his 
right  to  consider  whether  Christ  is  there  or  not 
when  men  say,  'Lo,  here,  or  Lo,  there.'  In  so  far 
as  the  institution  serves  this  Kingdom  of  God,  this 
kingdom  of  souls,  whose  only  authority  is  God  the 
Father  as  revealed  in  the  Son,  and  whose  only 
rule  is  love,  it  is  to  be  honoured ;  but  it  must 
ever  be  prepared  to  be  judged  by  that  standard. 

Tlie  great  end  of  all  progress,  therefore,  is  not 
to  subject  the  indiAndufu,  but  to  call  him  to  the 
realization  of  his  own  heritage  of  freedom.  It  )> 
in  the  crowd  that  men  have  done  all  the  great 


INDIVmUALITY 


INDIVIDUALITY 


iniquities.  The  multitude  come  to  take  Christ ; 
the  disciples  all  in  a  body  forsake  Him  ;  the  rulers 
come  together  to  judge  Him ;  the  whole  band  of 
soldiers  is  called  together  to  buffet  Him  ;  the  crowd 
cry,  '  Crucify  Him ' ;  the  chief  priests  mock  Him 
among  themselves.  Even  those  that  were  crucified 
wth  Him  stilled  their  pain  by  falling  in  with  the 
cry  of  the  multitude.  Whatever  institution, 
therefore,  we  may  submit  to,  we  can  only  belong 
to  the  true  Church  by  lirst  of  all  having  '  salt  in 
ourselves'  (Mk  9*°),  t)y  being  of  the  truth  and 
hearing  Christ's  voice  ( jn  18^). 

It  is  argued  that  the  full  meaning  and  claim  of 
Christianity  can  never  be  explicable  on  the  basis 
of  Individualism,  because  'from  first  to  last  it 
deals  with  minds  which  are  in  relation  with  actual 
truth  in  regard  to  the  soul,  tlie  world,  and  God, 
and  which  have  not  fully  attained  even  the  limits 
of  their  OAvn  nature  till  they  are  united  in  the 
Spirit-bearing  Body,  through  Christ  to  the  Father ' 
(Strong).  Possibly  Hume  contends  for  the  Indivi- 
dualism here  refuted.  Nobody  else  does.  Why 
Christianity  is  so  individualistic  is  precisely  that  the 
soul  is  so  directly,  or,  at  all  events,  can,  through 
God's  revelation  and  grace,  be  so  directly  in  con- 
tact with  actual  truth,  the  world  and  God,  as  to 
make  it  only  a  distraction  for  another  man,  on 
merely  official  grounds,  to  come  in  between  as  a 
necessary  channel ;  that  the  possession  of  such  a 
personal  relation  to  trutli  is  a  common  bond  of 
more  power  than  any  external  tie ;  and  that  the 
visible  organization  is  only  vital  and  useful  as  it 
expresses  this  union.  The  usual  way  is  to  say  the 
Kingdom  of  God  is  a  purely  spiritual  condition  on 
the  one  hand,  and  has  a  place  and  effect  in  the 
world  on  the  other  ;  to  seek  no  common  basis  ;  to 
avoid  deriving  one  from  the  other ;  to  ascribe 
methods  of  worldly  rule  to  the  visible  society,  and 
then  to  transfer  to  it  the  attributes  of  love  and 
truth  and  holiness  that  belong  to  the  invisible,  and 
so  to  claim  for  it,  in  subjection,  the  obedience 
which  belongs  to  the  other,  in  freedom.  It  is  quite 
true  that  a  person  in  a  state  of  salvation  is  one 
called  and  admitted  into  a  socioty ;  Imt,  jn<<t  ho 
cause  it  is  a  society  of  .saved  persmi^,  ii  i-  iliU'i'uni 
in  its  relation  to  its  members  limn  .ill  \isil,li' 
societies.  Instead  of  more  subirii--i<))i  in  tlicii 
teachers  and  more  obedience  to  their  rulers,  tlie 
Scripture  hope  of  progress  is  still  wliat  it  was  of 
old,  'Would  that  the  Lord's  people  were  all 
prophets,' — would  that  each  man  were  less  con- 
cerned about  his  neighbour  and  more  about  his 
own  message  and  his  own  call !  Men  are  always 
ready  to  organize  others  ;  the  fruitful  and  difficult 
task  is  to  organize  one's  own  soul. 

LiTERATURK. — BlUl'T^     N.  •■  ,,. :.:i.|,     iii     .•.!:-|.^',      I'.ilr-y's 

Moral  Philosophf/.     I    i  ■  _  mist. 

Socialism,  see  i^'n///"/'  ,        '     .  .            ■             .  '      .!  ,  I    -i  of 

Books  for  Social  i: .     :  .          i,  .s. 

MiU,  0«l  Z,i6erti/:  II.  tl- 11  S|i.  II-' I,  1/ '/  --,:;, imd 

Sociology:  Tolstoi,  A'sMn/s.  ami  many  si     '    i  ..m  iho 

relation  of  the  individual  to  the  Churi-h,  1' !   I    ini.ii' 

toljoisv.  L'£ranqileetl'Eqi;se\tr.  Tl,,' I.  .,,/,, 
1003);  Neniiian,  T/ie  Dcudnprnent  of  (:!,,■  .'..,,  /;..,,,..  ;  s;s  ; 
•and  T.  B.  Strong,  God  and  the  Imlimiliml,  r.n. :. 

.loiix  (Tmax. 
INDIYIDUALITY.-The  word  'individuality' 
may  be  used  merely  for  the  quality  of  being  an  in- 
dividual, but  its  connuon  use  is  to  indicate  tlie 
special  characteristics  which  distinguish  one  indi- 
A-idual  from  another,  that  which,  as  it  has  been 
expressed,  marks  each  one  as  a  particular  thought 
of  God.  Only  in  this  latter  sense  is  the  word  con- 
sidered here. 

Both  in  morals  .and  in  religion  it  has  always  been  a  difficult 
matter  to  determine  the  due  place  of  individual  difTerences. 
The  great  weakness  of  Deism,  r  -  ,  •■vi-  thnt,  ivhiln  it  nl.nnd- 
antly  exalted  the  individual,  it  I'l.l  n-  i.li.i  i..r  umIi.  i.|M:lIil^ . 
Its   natural   religion 


product  of  Rationalism,  with  his  view  of  religion  as  an  append- 
age to  a  moral  law,  and  his  supreme  test  of  a  moral  law  by  its 
fitness  to  be  a  law  universal,  only  accentuated  this  limitation. 
The  Romantic  reaction  had  as  its  characteristic  note  the  glory 
of  individuality.  The  marvel  of  the  universe  was  just  its 
variety,  and  the  glory  of  man  that  he  was  the  most  varied  thing  "' 
in  the  universe.  The  whole  duty  of  man  was  to  be  himself  and 
admit  no  law  except  the  law  of  his  own  nature.  Then  un- 
fortunately it  too  frequently  appeared  that  what  man  took  to 
be  his  nature  was  only  self-pleasing,  and  what  he  thought  was 
religion  was  only  satisfaction  of  the  artistic  sense.  There  was 
also  another  very  strange  result.  This  excessive  insistence 
upon  individuality  came  to  obliterate  the  individual.  So  much 
stress  was  laid  upon  what  was  changing  and  varied,  that  nothing 
was  thought  of  what  is  one  and  unchanging.  Hence  everj'- 
thing  was  reduced  to  the  great  World-Spirit  whose  artistic 
pleasure  in  unfolding  His  variety  constituted  the  history  of  the 

This  insistence  on  the  importance  of  individuality  by  Ro- 
manticism, nevertheless,  bore  large  fruit  in  both  ethics  and 
religion.  Indeed,  all  modern  study  at  least  of  the  historical 
religions  may  be  dated  from  Schleiermacher's  insistence  on  the 
marked  indi\'iduality  of  all  the  great  founders  of  religion.  Nor 
is  it  possible  to  question  his  ri^ht  to  point  in  particular  bo  Jesus. 
The  supreme  hinnan  interest  in  all  the  Scriptures  is  their  im- 
mense gallery  of  persons  who'gave  scope  to  their  individuality. 
For  the  most  part  they  are  very  far  from  being  perfect,  but 
none  of  them  is  fashioned  on  the  common  worldly  tj7>e,  none 
of  them  is  rolled  like  smooth  stones  on  the  beach,  in  the  con- 
tinual social  attrition.  Yet,  even  in  this  great  gallery  of  the 
children  of  nature  and  of  God,  Jesus  stands  out  pre-eminent. 
Whatever  may  be  said  of  the  stories  of  His  birth,  they  mark 
the  profoundest  impression  made  on  His  contemporaries  by  a 
great,  a  striking,  an  unforgetable  individuality.  Though  the 
many  attempts  at  painting  His  human  individuality,  from  the 
Apocryphal  Gospels  downwards,  cannot  be  regarded  as  nearer 
a  true  likeness  than  the  attempts  at  portraying  His  human 
features,  every  reader  of  the  Gospels  feels  that,  amid  all 
the  things  He  surrendered,  He  never  surrendered  His  own 
marked  human  individuality.  On  the  contrary,  it  continued 
to  be  a  prominent  thing  that  forced  itself  on  everyone.  He 
went  His  own  way,  thought  His  own  thoughts,  lived  His  own 
life,  and  never  accorded  anything  to  that  tyranny  of  fashion 
to  which,  in  our  weak  regard  for  others,  we  continually  sacrifice 
what  is  greatest  and  best  in  our  natures. 

Our  Lord's  regard  for  the  individuality  of  tlie 
persons  He  dealt  with  might  be  used  as  a  key  for 
understanding  large  portions  of  the  Gospels.  He 
took  special  care  to  bring  out  the  individuality  of 
each  one's  faith.  He  brings  the  modesty  of  the 
woman  with  the  issue  of  blood  into  prominence,  to 
give  her  the  assurance  she  needed  for  her  com- 
fort (Mt  9-"').  He  rejects  roughly  the  prayer  of 
the  Canaanitish  woman,  to  show  more  clearly  lier 
1  i;4ht  to  be  heard  (Mt  15-'--").  He  sits  at  meat  in 
I  he  publican's  house,  to  create  self-respect  in  the 
social  outcast  (Mk  2'^).  He  meets  the  centurion, 
the  man  of  command,  by  working  through  a  com- 
mand (Lk  7'"'°) ;  and  He  an.swers  John,  the  man 
who  had  required  action,  by  action  (v.~).  He 
justified  wisdom  both  in  John  the  ascetic  and  in 
Himself  Mho  came  eating  and  drinking,  and  only 
lilaiiied  the  narrow  censoriousness  which  could  ap- 
preciate neither  (Mt  11"). 

In  the  Fourth  Go.spel,  in  particular,  the  key  to 
almost  everythmg  Jesus  says  or  does  is  that  He 
knew  what  was  in  man  (Jn  2^°).  Nicodenius,  the 
man  dried  to  parchment  and  swathed  in  con- 
ventional considerations,  needs  to  be  born  again 
into  a  new  and  fresh  life  (3'"'°).  The  woman  of 
Samaria,  no  longer  able  to  command  the  protec- 
tion of  even  the  poorest  marriage  tie,  and  too  dis- 
reputable to  appear  at  the  well  except  Avhen  the 
midday  sun  kept  the  other  women  at  home,  is 
ottered  living  water  to  refresh  her  soul  parched  for 
sympathy,  and  is  so  interpreted  to  herself  that  .she 
said,  '  He  told  me  all  tliat  ever  I  did '  (4'-2«).  Be- 
cause the  nobleman  has  the  aristocratic  spirit  of 
his  class,  he  is  simply  told  to  go  his  way,  liis  son 
lives  (4™) ;  because  his  bed  has  for  thirty-eight 
years  been  the  centre  of  all  his  interest,  the  cripple 
at  Bethesda  is  told  to  take  it  up  (5").  All  the 
Gospels  are  full  of  persons  of  vi\'id  individuality. 
A  striking  feature  of  our  Lord's  whole  ministry  is 
the  way  in  which,  in  His  presence,  a  man's  true 
qualities  inevitably  come  to  light.  The  respectable 
convention  behind  which  men  hide  inevitably  falls 


820 


INDIVIDUALITY 


INDIVIDUALITY 


away,  and  men  appear  in  till  their  real  character- 
istics, often  Avith  the  unhonoured  to  their  honour, 
and  vnth  the  liighly  esteemed  to  their  shame.  Even 
the  Pharisee,  the  type  in  all  ages  in  which  indi- 
viduality is  most  suppressed  by  creed  and  custom, 
cannot  keep  the  curtain  drawn  in  His  presence. 
At  first  sight  tliis  detiniteness  seems  to  be  lost  in 
tlie  strange,  vague  atmosphere  of  tlie  Fourth  Gos- 
pel, which  is  so  strongly  irradiated  by  one  in<li- 
A'iduality — that  of  the  writer.  But  in  life  it  is  not 
the  persons  who  are  themselves  colourless  who  do 
most  justice  to  the  individuality  of  others.  So  it 
is  that  in  John  we  see,  more  than  in  any  other 
Gospel,  the  vivid  individuality,  in  particular,  of 
the  disciples,  and  how  Jesus  recognized  it  and  dealt 
with  it.  Andrew  and  Nathanael,  Philip  and 
Thomas  are  mere  names  and  shadows  in  the  other 
Gospels,  while  in  John  they  have  each  one  his  own 
characteristic  note.  Even  Peter,  in  the  other  Gos- 
l)els,  is  little  moie  than  an  inexplicable  mixture 
of  insight  and  error ;  but  in  John  he  is  drawn  in 
a  phrase  by  the  Master  Himself,  '  When  thou  wast 
young  thou  girdedst  thyself  and  walkedst  w  hither 
thou  wouldest'  (21").  This  enterprising  but  im- 
petuous character  appears  in  the  whole  presenta- 
tion of  him  in  John,  till,  in  the  days  of  heaviness, 
he  flung  off  the  slackness  which  liad  fallen  ujion 
all  the  disciples,  and  said  vi'ith  his  old  gri])  at  his 
girdle,  'I  "o  a  fishing '  (2P).  In  considering  the 
question  of  the  authenticity  of  John,  this,  at  all 
events,  deserves  consideration,  that  it  leaves  us 
with  such  a  sense  of  the  strong  indiWduality  of 
the  Apostles,  both  as  children  of  nature  and  as 
children  of  p^ace,  as  to  make  it  not  in(re<lilile  that 
a  handful  of  poor  men  should  start  to  cdnquer  the 
world.  In  this  Gospel,  moreover,  faitli  is  not  only 
an  individual  act,  which  it  nmst  always  lie,  but 
ahso  an  attitude  whicli  brings  out  a  man's  deejiest 
individuality.  Men  do  not  believe,  because  tliey 
trust  only  what  they  see  (4^*).  They  cannot  be- 
lieve in  Christ,  because  already  they  have  not 
believed  in  the  highest  they  knew  (5").  It  is  a 
certain  preparedness  for  Christ  which  makes  men 
believe  in  Him  (6^°'  '").  Belief  is  a  special  word  to 
oneself,  a  hearing  from  the  Father  (6^'').  Unbelief 
arises  from  being  from  beneath  (8=*),  from  being  of 
one's  father  the  de\dl  (S").  There  is,  throughout,  a 
family  likeness  in  unbelief;  while  belief,  in  the 
consciousness  of  its  own  special  needs,  finds  its 
own  call.  It  does  not  lean  on  Abraham,  or  fashion 
itself  on  the  accepted  model,  but,  like  Nathanael,  it 
seeks  God  under  the  fig-tree,  like  Phili]i  it  is  ready 
to  say  to  conventional  questions,  '  Come  and  see.' 
This  faith,  moreover,  issues  in  an  eternal  life,  the 
present  effect  of  which  is  to  give  us  possession  of 
our  o>vn  souls,  to  know  God  in  such  a  way  as  not 
to  be  greatly  concerned  about  men,  to  lie  in  the 
world  yet  not  of  it  (17'"). 

Though  less  promincMt  in  tlie  Synoptics,  our 
Lord's  regard  to  individual ilv  is  not  Ir^s  simiilirani. 
To  enter  the  Kingdom,  sn  \,vnu.,uurr.l  .,„  in.livi- 
duality  is  requireil  tliat-  il  ran  lakr  l.y  iisrli'  tlir 
narrow  way,  while  the  couimuii  i-uui-r  is  the  Imiail 
road  (Mt  7*') ;  it  is  to  be  one  in  so  cliaracterislic  a 
fashion  as  to  cause  more  joy  in  heaven  than  tin' 
ninety  and  nine  who,  satisfied  with  the  rciLiM.l 
standard,  need  no  repentance  (Mt  18",  Lk  15'). 
This  .strong  insistence  that  many  are  called  and 
only  few  chosen,  indicates  not  arbitrariness  in 
dealing  with  individuals,  but  the  rarity  of  the 
indiiiduality  God  requires  (Mt  22").  His  true  dis- 
ciples must  be  of  so  pronounced  a  type  that,  while 
they  shun  the  j'Oor  glory  of  .self-disphiy  (Mt  6-), 
they  must  yet  be  the  salt  of  the  earth,  and  not 
even  fear  tlie  prominence  of  being  as  a  ('ity  set 
on  a  hill.  They  must  shun  the  all-pervasive,  all- 
jissimilative  creed  of  the  time,  the  leaven  of  the 
Pharisees ;  nor  will  the  accepted  Christian  formula, 


the  saying  of  '  Lord,  Lord,'  Vie  any  more  approved 
(Mt  7='). 

Ovir  Lord  does  not  really  diflfer  from  the  pa^an  view  that  the 
worth  of  the  individual  depends  upon  his  individuality.  The 
difference  is  in  the  estimate  of  that  wherein  this  indiriduality 
consists,  and  of  the  possibilities  in  each  man  of  attaininj?  it. 
Kven  to  Aristotle  individuality  meant  something  aristocratic. 
The  qualities  in  a  person  worth  coiisiderin'^'  arc  liberality  (E/sy- 
Oif^ic-rr,^),  magnificence  (_u-yctKoTp;T'.foi),  and  nia^'naniniity(u£}-a>.o- 
•4-!.,^.a),  These  all  require  a  certain  social  station,  a  certain 
aloofness  from  the  petty  concerns  of  life,  which  could  be  pos- 
sible for  all  men  only  when  the  great  mechanical  slave  whom 
Aristotle  dreamt  of  could  be  made  to  do  the  drudgery.  With 
other  hand,  a  man  could  have  true  individuality 


Nor  is  Christ's  conception  that  of  modern  culture,  which, 
indeed,  is  much  nearer  Aristotle  than  Jesus.  He  does  not  seek, 
with  Goethe,  to  build  up  as  high  as  possible  the  pyramid  o(  his 
nature.  A  man  does  not  fail  of  that  individuality  which  the 
Kingdom  of  God  requires,  even  though  he  have  to  cut  off  an 
offending  hand  or  pluck  out  an  offending  eye,  and  enter  blind 
and  maimed  (Mt  6»). 

The  classical  presentation  of  the  type  of  indi- 
viduality permitted  and  required  in  the  Kingdom 
of  God  is  in  the  Beatitudes.  Too  often  they  are 
read  as  a  suppression  of  individuality,  which  they 
are  if  a  man's  chief  characteristics  are  posses- 
sions, popularity,  self-assertion,  self-indulgence. 
But  in  Christ's  eyes  this  should  not  be  the  Avay 
of  showing  a  man's  true  nature.  The  descrip- 
tion, taken  as  a  whole,  presents  an  energetic 
ty]ie  whicli,  just  because  of  its  superiority  both  to 
society  and  to  nature,  Is  botind  to  be  oi  marked 
individuality.  To  be  poor  in  spirit  is  not  to  be 
poor-siiiriteii,  not  to  bend  and  break  under  every 
trial,  but  is  to  be  rich  in  a  faith  which  acceiits 
poverty  or  anything  else  in  the  assurance  of 
never  'being  broken  or  bent.  The  mourner  is 
not  one  given  to  tears,  but  one  in  energetic  opposi- 
tion to  wrong  and  in  energetic  symiiathy  with 
suffering.  The  meek  is  not  the  meek  and  mild, 
not  the  soft,  timid  person,  but  one  who  lias  too 
high  a  faith  in  a  wiser  power  than  his  own  to 
strive  and  cry.  To  hunger  and  thirst  after  right- 
eousness is  neces.sarily  to  take  an  independent  and 
difficult  course  in  the  world  ;  while  to  be  merciful 
requires  decided  strength  of  character,  most  of  the 
cruel  things  on  earth  being  done  not  in  self-will 
and  malice,  but  in  thoughtlessness  and  weakness. 
Purity  of  heart  never  could  survive  in  this  world 
as  mere  innocence  and  ignorance  of  evil ;  the  soft 
people  who  seek  to  shun  everything  disagreeable 
are  the  chief  makers  of  dispeace  ;  and  only  persons 
of  determined  character  and  decided  principles 
ever  run  any  risk  of  being  jiersccuted  for  righteous- 
ness'sakf.  -Wen- tlirnMi.M.ni.r.un.lition  but  this 
lust,  il  xv.,nl.I  mark  I  lic  c,,„n  a^l   «itli  tli,^  accepted 


nil,,  nh,,  \-  111,,  odd  mail  m  the  hundred,  one  who 
will  not  walk  with  the  crowd  in  the  broad  way, 
one  who  has  xoTnething  of  the  singiilarity  of  the 
piophri  whiili  -will  ensure  for  him  the  singularity 
of  I  lie  jiidphet's  reward. 

This  large  scope  for  individualit.y  is  maintained 
chiLlly  by  resting  the  guidance  of  life  not  on  a 
rule,  "ijut  on  a  relation  to  God,  revealed  not  in  a 
code,  but  in  a  Person.  This  was  the  basis  of  a  rule 
of  love  to  God  and  to  man  to  which  all  the  Law 
and  the  Propliets  could  be  reduced.  Love  is  the 
way  of  at  onrc  giving  sr-npp  to  our  own  individu- 
ality an. I  ch.-i-ishiim'  thr  iihli\i.lualit\-  of  others. 
N,.Mh;n  joM- can  l.r  with. Mil  law.  A-  it  has  been 
well  sai.l,  What  is  love  at  tlir  centre  is  alwa.ys 
law  at  the  circumference.  But  love  at  the  centre 
will  always  keep  law  mindful  of  human  differences. 
It  will  be  a  law  in  accordance  with  the  Apostle's 
interpretation  of  his  Master's  meaning  when  he 


IXDIVTDUALITY  (OF  CHRIST) 


INDIVIDUALITY  (OF  CHRIST)     .S21 


enjoins  us  to  Ije  true  to  our  own  highest  individu- 
ality, i.e.  the  special  demands  of  our  own  con- 
science, to  do  nothing  that  is  not  of  faith  (Ro  14^) ; 
to  attend  so  far  to  the  weakness  of  our  own  indi- 
viduality as  not  to  be  enslaved  to  anything ;  and 
to  regai'il  tln>  inili\  i.luality  of  our  neighbour  so  far 
as  to  tiil.i'  liriM  [u  «l,at  edifies  (1  Co  10^).  Never- 
theless it  is  no  lr\ii'  development  of  Christian  faith 
or  morale,  as  Xrwiuan  (ui  his  Development)  and 
countless  others  ha\'e  argued,  that  the  faith  has 
heen  elaborated  into  a  creed  that  omits  no  detail 
of  doctrine,  and  the  morality  into  a  code  that  lays 
down  every  detail  of  duty.  Nor  can  it  ever  be  true 
liumility  to  surrender  our  individuality  to  any  other 
man  made  like  to  ourselves. 

Yet  a  free  Protestant  code  and  a  smaller  creed 
do  not  necessarily  give  us  a  true  and  character- 
istic faith,  or  save  us  from  a  mainly  negative 
standard  of  duty,  and  perhaps  there  is  no  kind  of 
consideration  fo'r  others  more  needed  at  the  present 
day  than  to  have  courage  to  be  ourselves. 

To  leave  room  for  this  individuality  is  one  of  the 
most  difficult  and  most  neglected  tasks  of  theology, 
and  to  leave  scope  for  it  in  the  Church  is  a  task 
that  has  never  been  \'ery  anxiously  ]mrsued  by  the 
ecclesiastic.  Yet  if  the  liui'  manifestation  of  faith 
is  power  to  become  sous  of  (lod  in  spite  of  society 
and  circumstances,  a  very  injiiortaiit  element  of 
it  should  be  the  maintenance  of  our  true  indi- 
viduality ;  and  though  truth  can  only  be  one, 
there  should  be  something  characteristic  in  eacli 
man's  faith.  The  jireservation  of  this  difference 
among  the  Scripture  writers  is  the  real  task  of 
Biblical  Theologj',  which  should  not  aim  at  evapor- 
ating truth  into  what  each  man  thinks,  but  at 
showing  how  important  every  man  is  for  his  faith. 

Literature.  —Goethe,  WilhelmMeister;  Sohleiennacher,  Reden 
[tr.  On  Religion :  Speeches  to  its  Cultured  Despisers,  1893]  and 
Monologen  [tr.  Moiwlogues'] ;  Hejrel,  Phllosophte  dvr  Geschichtc 
[tr.  Philosophy  of  Hlstorii,  Is.-Vl ;  CuUl.-,  n,r.«    ;   i:,,,,i„.i,. 

Essays:  J.  S.  Mill,  On  Libert,:;  l.n.l.'iHaiin,  /'.■. '.:■/'■<,•  ' 

Individualilat,  1900;  Leiiim.',  r/,,  ,,(/„■/,,■   /v„  . 
Schian,  'Glaube  und  Imliviclniliiii  •  (/'''wAr,    ,        i 
A'/jtAi!,  1S9S);  A.  Bi-eithaupt,  /,'.r/,/.' /mm/  rit,. ■/,,.,.  j  ,    /,,,;, 
dmliUit  im  Christlich-sittliclien  Leben,  l!iul. 

John  Oman. 
INDIVIDUALITY  (of  Christ).— Regarded  sim- 
ply as  a  historical  character,  or  as  a  subject  of 
a  visible  career  among  men,  Christ  undoubtedly 
presents  as  distinct  an  aspect  of  individuality,  or 
concrete  reality,  as  can  be  affirmed  of  any  historical 
personage.  On  the  other  hand,  when  we  pass  from 
the  historical  point  of  view  t<p  tlial  of  f 'hristoloeical 
construction,  we  can  liav.lly  fail  lo  rai~e  the  .pie^- 
tion  whetherit  ispossible  l.'.e-ca|.e  from  i|ii,ilifyinu 
the  category  of  individuality  a--  a|.[.lie<l  to  cinisl 
on  the  side  of  His  humanity.  I'roeueding  from  the 
latter  point  of  ^■iew,  and  deferring  to  the  Catholic 
postulates  respecting  the  union  of  our  Lord's  man- 
hood with  the  pre-existent  Logos  or  Son  of  God, 
we  are  confronted  with  the  task  of  explaining  how 
a  real  concrete  manhood  can  be  taken  into  verit- 
able union  with  the  Logos  without  effecting  a 
heterogeneous  and  double  personality.  The  task 
is  a  very  difficult  one,  and  in  wrestling  with  it  a 
temptation  easily  arises  to  strip  the  manhood  of 
concreteness  or  individuality,  and  thus  to  accom- 
modate it  more  fully  to  the  demands  of  personal 
unity.  But  a  resort  to  this  alternative  has  its 
own  difficulty,  and  that  by  no  means  a  slight  one, 
since  the  thought  of  an  incarnation  which  means 
the  union  of  the  Son  of  God  with  a  mutilated  man- 
hood, or  ^\dth  a  mere  semblance  of  manhood,  is  far 
from  being  satisfactory.  Indeed,  there  is  little 
hazard  in  affirming  that  the  mind  and  heart  of 
Christendom  would  sooner  tolerate  an  element  of 
unresolved  dualism  in  the  person  of  Christ,  than 
sacrifice  in  any  appreciable  degree  the  reality  and 
perfection  of  His  manhood. 


1.  Among  the  prominent  theories  involving  a 
.sacrifice  of  this  kind  the  Apollinarian  is  the  most 
explicit  and  intelligible.  By  its  supposition  that 
the  Logos  took  the  place  of  tlie  rational  soul  in  the 
Redeemer,  so  that  tlie  Incarnation  involved  only 
the  assumption  of  a  human  body  with  its  principle 
of  animal  life,  it  evidently  simplifies  very  much 
the  problem  of  Christ's  person.  But  the  simplihca- 
tion  takes  place  at  too  great  a  cost.  The  immut- 
able Logos  clothed  in  a  fleshly  garment  is  obviously 
no  proper  .subject  for  temptation  or  for  a  real  ini- 
plication  in  human  experiences  generally.  He 
cannot  be  brought  into  accord  with  the  Gospel 
representations,  except  by  resort  to  an  artificial, 
Docetic  interpretation.  As  lacking  the  most  essen- 
tial factor  of  manhood.  He  is  destitute  of  the  most 
appreliensible  bond  of  brotherhood  and  ground  of 
companionship.  In  short,  the  advantage  which 
pertains  to  the  Apollinarian  theory,  on  the  score 
of  simplicity  and  intelligibility,  is  overmatched  by 
the  disadvantage  wluch  it  incurs  by  its  incompati- 
bility will  I  Co-jiel  facts  and  by  its  abridgment  of 
Clirist's  eoniiieieiiey  to  enter  into  the  life  of  men, 
and  thus  to  tullil  tlie  complete  office  of  mediation. 
In  effect  it  abolishes  the  Son  of  Man ;  for  the 
archetypal  manhood,  which  Aiiollinaris  supposed 
to  be  resident  in  the  eternal  Logos,  is  a  far  off 
thing  in  comparison  with  the  concrete  reality 
whicli  naturally  is  present  to  our  thought  when 
we  use  the  term  'manhood.' 

2.  A  second  historic  theory  which  has  a  distinct 
bearing  upon  our  theme  is  that  of  Monophysitism. 
This  differs  from  Apollinarism  in  its  formal  ac- 
knowledgment that  by  the  incarnation  of  the  Son 
of  God  is  to  be  understood  the  assumption  of  a 
complete,  liuiuaii  na,t\ire.  This  acknowledgment, 
however,  turns  onl  to  In-  rather  verbal  than  sub- 
stantial.    'I'lie   ,\loiio|.|iysite  assertion  of  a  single 

,  nature  in  the  inenrn.it e,l  I  lirist  involved  the  com- 
'  i>ouniiin;j  iif  I  he  liunian  nature  in  Him  with  the 
I 'nine:  niiil  ilii.^,  in  eounexicm  with  the  vast  pre- 
;  'iideianic  assi,i;ne.|  loilie  Divine  in  post-Nicene 
ininkih'j,  meant  \irlu.dly  the  reduction  of  the 
Ininiau  to  the  rank  of  an  accident,  a  secondary 
and  contingent  property  or  group  of  properties, 
superinduced  upon  a  Di\ine  subject.  Such  an 
outcome,  it  is  needless  to  say,  runs  very  close  to 
the  .submergence  of  the  Imman  side  of  Christ.  It 
leaves  no  place  for  the  thought  of  a  real  ethical 
manhood ;  for  a  proper  ethical  character  is  not 
predicable  of  a  selfless  accident.  And  with  this 
ilelicit  is  conjoined  a  serious  metaphysical  diffi- 
(  ulty,  since  fundamental  thinking  insists  upon  a 
lelation  of  commensurability  between  attributes 
and  their  subject,  and  does  not  approve  the  notion 
that  attributes  appropriate  to  a  finite  personality 
can  be  made  properly  to  inhere  in  an  infinite 
.subject. 

3.  A  theory  favoured  with  more  orthodox  asso- 
ciations than  the  Monophysite,  but  having  a  some- 
what questionalrle  bearing  on  the  Christological 
problem,  is  the  tlieory  of  the  impersonMlity  of 
Christ'ti  manhovd,  or  more  specifically,  the  theory 
that  His  nianliood,  being  devoid  of  a  personality 
of  its  own,  obtained  from  the  first  moment  of  sub- 
sistence its  personal  subject  in  the  Ego  of  the  pre- 
existent  Logos  (the  so-called  doctrine  of  enhtjpos- 
tasis).  This  theory  was  broached  by  Leontius  in 
the  6th  cent.,  was  advocated  by  John  of  Damascus 
in  the  8th  cent.,  and  has  had  in  later  times  con- 
siderable currency  among  theologians  of  reputed 
orthodoxy,  though  never  receiving  any  distinct 
oecumenical  sanction.  As  handled  by  John  of 
Damascus,  the  notion  of  the  impersonality  of 
Christ's  manhood  cannot  be  said  to  have  been 
suitably  reconciled  ^^■ith  the  full  reality  of  that 
manhood.  While  formally  he  assigned  to  the 
Redeemer  the  full  complement  of  human  faculties, 


822     INDn'IDUALITY  (OF  CHEIST) 


INFANCY 


:  another  to  den- 


he  felt  obliged  in  one 

to  them  their  characteristic  forms  of  activity, 
would  not  do,  as  he  conceived,  to  admit  pro{^ 
in  knowledge  on  the  part  of  Christ,  as  this  would 
contravene  the  truth  that  the  hypostatic  union  of 
the  human  with  the  Divine  in  Him  was  complete 
from  the  start.  For  a  like  reason  it  was  con- 
sidered inadmissible  to  impute  real  prayer  to  Him. 
Divinity  needs  nothing,  and  a  humanity  that  is 
perfectly  united  with  Divinity  shares  in  its  suffi- 
ciency. In  relation  to  the  will  also  the  Damascene 
considered  it  nece.ssai-j'  to  retrench  from  the  proper 
human  mode.  The  logical  issue  of  his  representa- 
tions is  to  deny  to  the  human  will  in  Christ  all 
power  of  initiative,  and  to  reduce  it  entirely  to 
tlie  office  of  a  '  medium  through  wliich  the  Logos 
moved  the  man  Jesus.'  Quite  possibly  John  of 
Damascus  does  not  afford  the  best  specimen  of 
what  can  be  done  in  Christological  construction 
with  the  notion  that  the  human  nature  of  Christ, 
being  without  personality  of  its  own,  derived  such 
personal  character  as  pertained  to  it  from  its  rela- 
tion to  the  person  of  the  Logos.  But  certainly  it 
is  difficult  in  the  light  of  his  exposition  to  discover 
the  real  Son  of  Man.  The  image  of  a  genuine  and 
living  manhood  does  not  stand  forth  in  his  repre- 
-sentation  of  the  Redeemer. 

It  has  sometimes  been  concluded  that  a  special 
advantage  belongs  to  the  doctrine  of  the  imperson- 
ality of  the  human  nature  of  Christ,  as  helping  to 
explain  the  atoning  efficacy  of  His  work.  The 
inference  is  made  that  human  natuie  in  this  char- 
acter is  not  a  concrete,  limited  entity,  such  as  is 
the  human  nature  of  the  individual  man,  but 
rather  generic  or  universal.  It  is  then  argued 
that  Christ  in  perfecting  His  own  human  nature 
sanctified  human  nature  in  general.  Again,  it  is 
claimed  that,  in  v-iitue  of  His  literal  community 
with  men.  His  doing  was  in  the  proper  sense  a 
transaction  >rithin,  as  well  as  for,  the  whole  body 
of  humanitj-.  As  an  eminently  spiritual  writer 
has  expressed  the  thought,  '  every  man  was  a  part 
of  Him,  and  He  felt  the  sins  of  every  man,  not  in 
sympathy,  but  in  sorrow  and  abhiinenoe'  (Thoniiis 
Erskine).  To  such  repre-i'iitati'in^  it  is  legitimate 
to  reply,  that  what  nonl^  to  li,  Muutified  is  not 
human  nature  in  itself,  lnu  luxiiads  of  human 
beings  ;  that  the  sanctihcatioii  ot  liuman  nature  in 
Clirist  cannot  rationally  be  conceived  to  have  any 
immediate  effect  upon  its  sanctification  elsewhere, 
inasmuch  as  human  nature  in  Christ  cannot  be 
regarded  as  a  stuff  out  of  which  men  universally 
are  fashioned ;  and  that  a  generic  or  universal 
human  nature  belongs  purely  to  the  realm  of  the 
conceptual,  and  cannot  possibly  have  any  place  in 
the  sphere  of  real  being.  In  short,  the  line  of 
representation  in  question  rests  upon  a  fiction 
which  modem  philosophy  for  the  most  part  has 
discountenanced — the  fiction  of  the  real  existence 
of  universals. 

i.  Wliile  it  is  impossible  to  be  satisfied  with  any 
one  of  these  historic  theories,  as  re.spects  its  bear- 
ing on  the  integrity  or  concrete  reality  of  Christ's 
manhood,  it  is  far  from  easy  to  offer  a  definite  sub- 
stitute which  is  not  open  to  exception.  Indeed,  an 
attempt  at  strict  construction  is  certain  to  mis- 
carry. The  extraordinary  as  such  rebels  against 
complete  elucidation,  and  by  supposition  the  union 
of  the  Divine  and  the  human  in  Christ  is  an  extra- 
ordinary fact.  Any  one  who  accepts  tlie  Incarna- 
tion must  admit  that  the  individuality  of  Christ's 
manhood  was  specially  conditioned  ;  but  equally, 
any  one  who  admits  the  extraordinary  character  of 
the  Incarnation  must  grant  the  impossibility  of 
giving  a  full  explanation  of  the  mode  and  measure 
of  this  special  conditioning.  AVe  cannot  fidl)'  con- 
strue our  own  relation  to  the  DiNdne ;  how  then 
should  we  expect  to  gain  clear  insight  into  the 


relation  of  the  human  to  the  Di\-ine  in  the  person 
of  our  Lord  ?  Probably  the  best  that  can  be  done 
is  to  form  an  ideal  picture  of  the  normal  relation 
of  perfected  manhood  to  the  DiWne,  and  then 
beyond  this  to  postulate  the  mystery  of  a  special 
band  between  Cfhrist's  manhood  and  His  Divinity. 
The  forming  of  the  ideal  picture  will  be  distinctly 
helpful.  For,  having  clearly  apprehended  the 
great  truth  that  manhood  loses  nothing  of  its 
proper  character  by  intimate  union  with  the 
Divine,  that  the  human  spirit  is  never  more  itself 
than  when  it  is  possessed  by  and  insphered  in  the 
Divine  Spirit,  that  freedom  is  never  so  complete  as 
when  the  human  will  by  its  own  consent  passes 
under  the  absolute  diiection  of  the  Divine  will, 
we  shall  be  prepared  to  believe  that  manhood  in 
Clirist  suffered  no  retrenchment  by  its  extra- 
ordinary union  with  the  Divine,  but  rather  is  to 
be  accounted  the  full-orbed  specimen  of  manhood 
as  respects  ethical  worth  and  all  tender  and  beauti- 
ful traits. 

Taken  in  a  popular  sense,  rather  than  in  relation 
to  Christological  theory,  the  subject  of  individu- 
ality suggests  a  discussion  of  those  characteristics 
which  may  be  regarded  as  specially  distinctive  of 
Christ  as  a  historic  personage.  This  discussion, 
however,  is  reserved  for  the  art.  UNIQUENESS. 

LiTKRATCRK. — J.  A.  Domer,  History  of  the  Doctrine  of  the 


Fundamental  Jdea^  of  Christianity,  Lectures  xiii.-xv. ;  Con- 
tentio  Veritatii,  eh.  ii. ;  IlUngworth,  Personality  Human  and 
Dioine.  HeXRY  C.  ShELDON. 

INDOLENCE.— The  spirit  of  Christ's  religion  is 
inimical  to  indolence  in  the  sphere  of  business 
(Lk  16",  Mt  24^^  25-"),  but  more  especially  indolent 
Cliri>tuuuty  i-  .s.ilt  iclt/ioiit  savour  (Mt  5").  Not 
only  i--  II  ,~tati-  of  .-.alvation  hard  to  maintain  (Mt 
7"),  liut  iioifirtiou  is  to  be  aimed  at  {o*^).  An 
enemy  >-u\vs  tait-s  wliile  we  sleep  (13'-^).  The  oil 
in  our  lamps  consumes  as  we  rest  (25^).  AVatch- 
fulness  is  the  very  opposite  of  indolence  (26^')- 
The  hid  talent  will  reproach  the  indolent  in  the 
day  of  reckoning  (25").  Most  deadly  is  the 
spiritual  indolence  which  is  satisfied  to  have 
Abraham  for  father  (Lk  3',  Jn  8**),  or  Christ  for 
Saviour,  without  response  to  the  impulses  of  the 
Holy  Spirit,  the  source  of  life  and  motion  and 
progre-s. 

A  siL'tial  jiiiluiauut  may  be  executed  ujion  the 
indukiit  .^oul,  either  after  a  period  of  further  pro- 
bation (Lk  lo"'-'),  or  suddenly  and  unexpectedly 
when  that  day  comes  as  a  snare  (Lk  21**),  and  the 
Judge  pronounces  the  sentence  (Mk  II").  The 
conscience  must  be  kept  awake  and  intelligent 
(Mt  5^-  •").  The  beginnings  of  evil  must  be 
checked  (v. '*'•)■  The  ears  must  be  open  to  learn, 
and  the  heart  ready  to  believe  (11'^).  The  rock 
foundation  to  build  the  house  upon  may  need 
much  toil  to  reach  it  (7"^).  And  continually 
the  servant  of  Christ  must  be  ready  for  his 
Master's  coming,  with  loins  girded  and  lights 
burning  (Lk  12^J. — Love  is  not  indolent  in  seeking 
the  lost  sheep  (Mt  18'=).  Hope  is  not  indolent  in 
running  to  the  sepulchre  ( Jn  20'),  or  hastening  to 
the  manger  (Lk  2'*).  Faith  is  not  indolent  in 
pressing  through  the  crowd  to  be  healed  (Mk  5"). 
'  The  zeal  of  thine  house  shall  eat  me  up'  (Jn  2'"). 


1 


also  art.  SlothfulNESS. 
W. 
INFANCY.- 


B.  Fraxklaxu. 


usually  weaned  at  i 


ol  age  or 

^ ill  Heb.  to 

describe  childhood  and  youth  at  various  stages;  and  in  this 
earliest  period  before  a  cllild  has  become  a  gdmiit  (7!CJ 
'  weaned '),  there  are  tliree  different  terms  that  may  be  applied 
to  hJiu.    The  infant  is  l'';  (f.  ^h-J,  the  (new-)  born  (ct.  •  bairn,' 


INFANCY 


INFANCY 


823 


'barn'),  plV  (the  suckling),  and- '^Viy  (or  '??;)),  also  indicating 
dependence  for  nourishment.  In  NT,  apart  from  the  general 
use  of  T«7;  or  -raih^oy,  the  terms  used  are  (1)  (3fli<pos  (applying  to 
the  unborn  child  as  well  (Lk  l-iij),  and  (2)  "^yo,-.  The  aspect  of 
infancy  connoted  by  .»t,«,-,  as  contrasted  with  the  Heb.  terms, 
is  inability  to  speak  (  =  Lat,  infaufi).  In  Mt  21^'',  in  the  quota- 
tion from  Ps  83,  LXX,  the  Greek  translators  use  iwim  as  =  '7Siy, 
and  the  ptcp.  flii^iaCs).  as  =  pjv.  With  the  exception  of  Lk  1815, 
0fii0oi  occurs  in  the  Gospels  only  in  Lk.'s  account  of  the  birth  of 
Christ ;  and  rima,  in  addition  to  Mt  21i6,  only  in  a  figurative 
useinMtll25=Lki02i. 

2.  All  that  the  Gospels  have  to  tell  concerning 
the  infancy  of  Jesus  is  found  in  Lk  2  and  Mt  2. 
Excluding  the  story  of  the  Birth,  we  have  the 
following  series  of  events :— the  Circumcision,  the 
Presentation,  the  Visit  of  the  Magi,  the  Flight 
into  Egypt,  the  Slaughter  of  the  Innocents,  the 
Return  and  Settlement  at  Nazareth.  The  insuper- 
able difficulties  in  tlie  way  of  weaving  these 
narratives  into  a  coherent  and  harmonious  whole 
are  now  generally  recognized.  Harmonists  have 
not  been  able  to  agree  even  as  to  the  time-order  in 
which  the  events  should  be  placed.  (Andrews,  in 
his  Life  of  Our  Lord,  p.  91  f.,  conveniently  shows 
the  diversity  that  has  obtained).  If  it  were  a 
matter  of  supreme  importance  to  settle  sucli  order, 
Wieseler's  view  (Chron.  Synopsis,  i.  ch.  iii.)  seems 
the  mcst  reasonable,  arranging  as  follows : — Cir- 
cumcision, Presentation  (or  Purification  of  Mary), 
Visit  of  the  Magi,  Flight  into  Egypt  and  Slaughter 
of  the  Innocents,  Return  to  Nazareth.  So  far, 
liowever,  as  the  narrative  in  Mt  2  is  concerned,  it 
is  evidently  unrelated  to  Lk.'s  account  of  the 
infancy  of  Jesus ;  it  stands  as  a  story  by  itself, 
detached  from  its  own  context ;  the  opening  [rod  Sk 
'l-q(7ov  •yivvriBivTo^,  k.t.\.)  is  quite  indefinite  as  a 
time-expression,  and  anything  like  chronological 
interest  is  at  a  minimum. 

The  accounts  of  the  Infancy  comprise :  (ft) 
normal  features — the  Circumcision,  the  Presenta- 
tion (  =  Purification  of  Mary  and  Redemption  of 
tlie  Firstborn) ;  and  (b)  peculiar  features — the  Visit 
of  the  Magi  and  connected  incidents. 

As  for  («),  it  is  noticeable  that  we  have  these 
particulars  given  in  Lk.  alone.  The  rites  appointed 
to  be  performed  on  the  birth  of  a  Hebrew  boy,  a 
firstborn,  were  duly  carried  out.  The  Circuiiui- 
sion  took  place,  on  the  eighth  day  (Lk '2-'),  ;.i.  at 
the  time  prescribed  by  ancient  law  ami  usaj^e 
(Lv  12^).  Again,  after  the  proper  interval  (Lv  1-2^) 
the  Purification  of  Mary  \vitn  all  due  rites  took 
place  at  the  Temple  (Lk  2~). 

The  oeiTi.  (•  their  purification')  cannot  without  strain  be 
made  to  refer  to  any  but  both  Joseph  and  filarv  who  brought 
the  child  to  Jerusalem  (see  also  v.33).  This,  as  wc41  as  tlie  inter- 
pretation making  aCruy  refer  to  mother  and  child  (see,  ?.;/., 
rendering  of  the  Twentieth  Cent.  A'7').  is  in  conflict  with  the 
ritual  law  (Lv  12) ;  and  the  reading  followed  by  A V  ( '  her  purifica- 
tion'), which  has  practically  no  MS  authority,  is  an  evident 
correction  to  remove  the  discrepancy. 

The  offering  brought  was  that  prescribed  tor 
persons  in  humble  circumstances  (Lv  12*),  though 
the  regulation  is  so  quoted  in  Lk  2'-^  that  this  does 
not  explicitly  appear.  The  Presentation  of  the 
infant  Jesus  involved  at  the  same  time  the  ancient 
ceremony  of  the  Redemption  of  the  firstborn  son, 
as  the  reference  to  Ex  13-'  ^^  shows.  In  our  Lord's 
day  a  rabbinical  regulation  had  added  to  the 
Mosaic  rule  the  condition  that  the  child  thus  pre- 
sented and  redeemed  should  be  free  from  physical 
defect  and  blemish. 

In  the  Pentateuch  this  devotion  of  the  male  firstborn  of  both 


mote  Semitic  antiquity  (t.eu  \\  .  R.  bimth,  7;.^-  p.  102fE.). 

Yet  in  connexion  with  these  ordinary  incidents 


of  infancy  among  the  Jews  we  have  touches  of  the 
unusual,  though  the  forecast  of  a  great  destiny  thus 
indicated  is  not  per  sc  an  incredible  feature  of  the 
ihtwn  (if  hueh  a  life.  At  the  Circumcision  the  name 
•Irsiis  was  given,  we  are  told  (Lk  2-'),  in  accordance 
with  au  angelic  intimation  to  Mary  prior  to  con- 
ception (P'),  a  matter  in  which,  it  may  be  noted,  a 
marked  contrast  with  the  representation  in  Mt 
l"*--5  appears.  At  the  Presentation  the  part  played 
by  Simeon  and  Anna  (Lk  2=^-^)  forms  an  unwonted 
accompaniment  of  the  ceremonies  of  the  occasion, 
and  wonderfully  breaks  in  upon  the  even  recital  of 
customary  proceeding's  (cf.  vv.-*-  '^).  The  close 
parallel,  however,  which  exists  here  with  the  story 
of  John  the  Baptist's  birth  cannot  be  overlooked. 
Cf.  Lk  113-M-63  and  pi  2^1;  also  P^-'^  and  2."-^. 
Tlie  character  of  the  narratives  as  a  whole,  and 
especially  as  regards  such  elements  as  these,  sug- 
gests that  we  have  thus  conveyed  to  us  '  the  tradi- 
tional Jewish-Christian  views  of  Jesus,'  and  argues 
a  special  Jewish-Christian  (Palestinian)  source  (see 
Moft'att,  Historical  NT,  p.  651  ft'.). 

(6)  The  more  peculiar  features  are  furnished  by 
the  narrative  in  Mt  2.  It  is  quite  unneeessaiy  to 
give  an  outline  of  the  stories  themselves ;  'but 
some  notice  iii\i>t  l>i'  t:iki-n  of  the  considerable 
problems  to-\\liirli  i\\r\  tji\r  rise.  Did  they  form 
from  the  very  llr-i  ju  iiir  .r.il  part  of  Mt.'s  Gospel? 
Consideratid'iis  ,,\  >\\\r  and  general  structure 
favour  the  jirdlKiLilit  \  '..i  tliiir  being  from  another 
hand  than  that  whic  I'l  lumi^hed  the  main  body  of 
the  Go.spel.  'I'Im-  >tdii'  -  :iie  not  therefore  to  be 
rejected  as  witliuiil  lii-luvic  basis;  nor  are  we  to 
cast  them  aside  on  the  ailjitrary  ground  of  intrinsic 
incredibility.  But  we  cannot  ignore  the  striking 
features  of  the  narrative  that  raise  the  question  as 
to  what  the  nature  of  the  narrative  precisely  is. 
Consider,  e.cf.,  the  use  made  of  dream-warnings 
(w.'" '^' '^•-^)  ;  the  peculiarities  in  the  leading  of 
the  '  star '  (seen  first  in  the  East,  then  lost  siglit  of 
—else  they  had  not  gone  to  Jerusalem  instead  of 
Bethlehem — only  to  reappear  and  go  before  them 
to  Bethlehem,  moving  in  the  heavens,  and  at 
last  stopping  '  over  where  tlie  young  child  was ') ; 


lie  symbolic  character  of 
(v.") ;  and,  lastly,  th 
clement  of  prophetic 
in  the  story  answer 
prophets  (vv.^-  ^''-  "■  -'"), 
cases  being  but  reniot 
characterize  as  legcii' 
story  of  tlie  Magi  as  ; 
Orient,'  gives  them  i 


ottering 
iiilrrr~t  in  the 
iial^iii'j  lach  turn 
ia-.a.ui-  iium  the 
ionilciice  in  some 
ivv.  We  at  once 
iiiliroidery  of  the 
I  ■ three  kings  of 
chiborates  their 


liter  history,  and  sucli  features  as  the  ox  and  the 
ass  incessantly  adoring  the  Child  {Gosp.  ofpseudo- 
Mt.);  but  is 'the  story  as  it  stands  in  Mt.  abso- 
lutely free  Iroiu  clciiie'nts  of  the  same  order?  The 
narr.'iti\i'  is  m,  iiai\t',  e.g.,  that  it  seems  superfluous 
and  licsidc  tlic  iiiaik  to' venture  seriously  on  calcu- 
lations u>  pru\L'  that  some  astronomical  pheno- 
menon, such  as  a  conjunction  of  planets,  really 
explains  what  is  said  of  the  star. 

The  story  of  the  Massacre  of  the  Innocents 
cannot  be  said  to  be  inherently  improbable.  Herod 
was  not  the  man  to  hesitate  at  such  a  measure  if 
occasion  arose  for  it.  Absence  of  confirmatory 
references  in  history  also  goes  for  little  when  all 
the  circumstances  aie  (onsidered.  Macrobius 
(Saturn,  ii  4),  wiitmi;  m  the  5th  cent.,  states  that 
Augustus,  h.-aiuu  that  some  baby  boys  of  less 
than  two  jeais  ot  .it;e  had  been  put  to  death  at 
III  lod's  command,  and  that  the  king's  own  child 

1-  amongst  those  killed,  said  '  Melius  est  Herodis 
I  OK  uin  esse  quani  hliuni.'  This  looks  like  a  re- 
I'  KMice ;  but  how  strange,  if  it  weie  so,  that  the 
j\lt.  narrative  should  fail  to  notice  .sutli  a  notable 
circumstance  !  It  is  a  curious  passage,  but  e\i- 
dently  all  its  interest  is  in  the  Emperor's  bon  mot. 


INFLUENCE 


[jlaying  on  the  Gr.  teniis  for  'pig'  (5s)  and  'son' 
(vios).  It  has  often  been  pointed  out  that  the 
number  of  little  ones  slain  must  have  been  com- 
paratively small  (Edersheim  says  '  probably  20  at 
most,'  i.  214),  in  correction  of  later  exaggerations 
(perhaps  helped  by  the  vivid  language  of  v.'^) ;  but 
this  does  not  destroy  the  pathetic  element  in  such 
an  association  with  the  infancy  of  our  Lord  in 
Cliristian  tradition.  But,  all  things  considered, 
though  it  is  plausible  to  suggest  that  we  have  here 
a  designed  Messianic  parallel  to  the  deliverance  of 
the  infant  Moses,  the  parallel  is  not  so  close  as  to 
suggest  pure  invention,  and  it  is  difficult  to  imagine 
all  substratum  of  fact  to  be  wanting. 

Suggestions,  also,  which  see  in  the  '  Repose  in 
Egypt,'  as  it  used  to  be  called,  only  a  typical  indi- 
cation of  Jesus  as  the  vine  of  Israel  '  brought  out 
of  Egj'pt '  (art.  '  Gospels '  in  Encyc.  Bibl.  ii.  1780), 
are  not  wholly  convincing  and  satisfactory.  At 
the  same  time,  as  regards  the  whole  narrative  in 
Mt  2,  we  must  be  content  to  say  that  the  state  of 
our  knowledge  affords  no  solution  of  the  difficulties 
to  which  it  gives  rise  when  compared  with  the 
representations  of  Lk.,  especially,  e.g.,  in  the  im- 
plication that  Joseph  and  Blary  were  continuously 
resident  at  Bethlehem  probably  until  Jesus  was 
nearly  two  years  old,  and  that  tliey  went  to  Naza- 
reth to  live  only  after  their  return  from  Egypt. 

3.  The  sources  of  the  Infancy  narratives  remain 
a  subject  of  debate.  Speaking  of  the  l\It.  docu- 
ment in  particular,  Sanday  says  '  we  are  in  the 
dark'  (art.  'Jesus  Christ'  in  Hastings'  DB  ii.  644). 
Kesch's  well-kno^\Ti  attempt  to  establish  an  original 
Hebrew  'Childhood-Gospel,'  having  as  parts  of  its 
contents  both  the  Lk.  and  Mt.  stories,  has  failed 
to  carry  conviction.  An  important  problem,  how- 
ever, is  presented  by  a  comparison  of  these  naiTa- 
tives  with  the  conspicuous  features  of  certain  of 
the  Apocryphal  Gospels,  particularly  the  Protevan- 
geliuiH  of  James,  the  Gospel  aceording  to  Thomas, 
and  the  Arabic  Gospel  of  the  Childhood.  It  may 
be  said  that  it  is  just  at  .such  a  point  as  this  that 
the  apocrj-phal  writings  come  most  noticeably  into 
contact  with  our  Canonical  Gospels,  as  also  it  is  in 
the  ministry  and  teaching  of  Jesus  that  they  depart 
most  widely  from  them.  A  superabundance  of 
fantastic  elements  in  these  Christian  Apocrypha  is 
at  once  revealed  on  the  most  superficial  compari- 
son :  still  there  are  elements  in  common,  and  here 
and  there  points  of  close  contact.  In  the  Gospel  of 
the  Childhood,  e.g.,  we  have  the  story  of  the  Mag' 


Mt 


almcst  liter- 
Ill  and  offering 
litiou  of  1697, 
-uiae  time  the 
It  is  most  iin- 
irectly  borrowed 


woven  into  the  narrat 
ally  paralleled,  as  also  tlic  .i 
of  the  threefold  gift  (m'-  II.  S; 
withLat.  tr.  p._17),  tlmuuh  u 
most  curious  divergencus  api 
probable  that  aur  narratives  w 
from  any  of  these  apocryphal  works  and  finally  in 
corporated  in  the  Canonical  Gospels.  It  seems  also 
unlikely  that  our  Gospels  were  used  specifically  in 
the  production  of  any  of  the  Apocrypha,  and  that 
out  of  our  Gospels  the  narratives  in  Mt  1.2  and 
Lk  1.  2  were  simply  taken  for  expansion  into  the 
extraordinary  congeries  of  man'els  of  which  these 
extra-canonical  writings  mostly  consist.  Why  may 
not  canonical  and  apocryphal  accounts  have  alike 
originated  in  a  common  early  tradition,  though 
they  have  flowed  so  far  apart?  It  is  well  to  re- 
member that  those  who  promulgated  and  those 
who  received  most  of  the  Apocrvphal  Gospels 
sincerely  believed  themselves  to  be  Christians. 
Pseudo-Matthew  indeed  openly  professes  to  be 
actuated  by  the  lo^e  of  Christ  in  writing  his 
wonder-crowded  account  of  the  infancy  and  boy- 
hood of  our  Lord.  Our  narratives,  however,  are 
•haracterized  by  a  wonderful  simplicity  and  re- 
straint when  compared  Mith  such  accounts  as  his  ; 
they  proclaim  themselves  so  mnch  nearer  what  the 


facts  must  have  been.  But  one  source  of  apocry- 
phal developments  appears  to  have  been  the  deep- 
seated  fondness  of  Jews  iorhaggadCih  (see  Donehoo, 
The  Apocryphal  and  Legendary  Life  of  Christ,  p. 
xix) ;  and  one  great  feature  of  such  haggddOth  was 
the  interest  shown  in  connecting  OT  prophecies 
with  fulfilments.  The  question  suggests  itself 
whether  haggadic  elements  may  not  even  have 
found  their  way  into  our  brief  canonical  narratives. 
If  it  be  so,  it  cannot  detract  from  the  supreme 
v.nlue  of  the  portraiture  of  Christ  in  the  Gospels. 
G.  H.  Box  (in  ZNTW,  1905,  p.  80  ff.)  suggests  that 
Mt  1.2  are  to  be  regarded  as  a  midrash,  which 
means  much  the  same  thing,  though  otherwise  ex- 
pressed. The  historical  basis,  that  is  to  .say,  Ls 
treated  in  subservience  to  edification  and  the  ex- 
pression of  a  ilessianic  faith.  See  also  artt.  Babe, 
Childhood. 

LiTERATCRE.  —  Lives  of  Christ :  Supplemental  section  of 
Sandav's  art.  'Jesus  Christ'  in  Hastings'  DB\  Ramsav,  Was 
Christ  born  at  Bethlehem?;  Resch,  'Das  Kindheits-evangelium ' 
{TU  iv.  Heft  3, 1897) ;  Gore,  Dissertations,  p.  12  if . 

J.  S.  Clemens. 

INFLUENCE.— 1.  The  influence  of  Christ 
DURING  His  life.  —  (a)  On  His  disciples. — This 
from  the  verj'  first  was  remarkable.  The  short 
interview  that  John  and  Andrew  had  with  Jesus 
after  He  had  been  pointed  out  by  their  old  mastei 
as  the  Lamb  of  God  that  taketli  away  the  sin  of 
the  world,  seems  to  have  canied  tliem  away  at 
once.  Andrew  has  no  misgivings,  but  goes  ofl'  to 
his  brother  with  the  gTeat  news  that  they  have 
found  the  Messiah  (Jn  1^"-).  The  disciples, 
spiritually  minded  though  they  were,  must  have 
felt  aU  the  prejudices  that  widely  existed  against 
the  appearance  of  the  !Messiah  as  a  poor  and  un- 
distinguislied  person  from  a  northern  village  of  no 
reputation,  and  yet  they  were  at  once  conquered. 
One  evening's  conversation  conduced  them  that 
He  was  their  Prince.  A  like  instantaneous  recog- 
nition is  recorded  of  Bartholomew,  if  he  be,  as 
seems  likely,  the  same  as  Nathanael.  He  has 
difficulties  to  overcome  which  he  had  frankly 
stated  to  Philip  when  he  ran  in  with  the  same 
great  news  that  Andrew  had  told  Peter.  But  they 
vanish  before  the  presence  and  words  of  his  Lord. 
The  encouraging  description  of  his  own  character  set 
Nathanael  wondering,  and  when  this  was  followed 
by  news  which  showed  that  He  knew  of  some 
secret  passage  in  his  life,  he  confesses  His  great- 
ness in  the  fullest  terms,  '  Rabbi,  thou  art  the  Son 
of  God,  thou  art  the  King  of  Israel'  (1^').  In  all 
these  cases  it  is  to  be  noted  that  the  impression  is 
made  not  by  any  miracle  or  sign,  but  by  what 
Christ  was  and  what  He  said.  A  little  later  there 
follows  the  first  sign,  —  the  changing  of  water 
into  wine, — and  with  it  the  natural  deepening  of 
the  hold  Christ  had  on  His  disciples  (2'ff-).  All 
their  previous  hopes  were  confirmed  ( '  crediderunt 
amplius,'  Bengel).  Up  to  this  time  there  are  no 
hostUe  influences  at  work.  As  simple-minded  men 
they  probably  supposed  that  all  the  world  would 
share  their  sanguine  hopes.  The  cleansing  of  the 
Temple,  followed  as  it  was  by  public  questioning 
as  to  His  right  to  take  that  bold  step  (2'3*-),  was 
probably  the  first  indication  that  He  would  not 
be  able  to  influence  all  men  alike. 

From  that  time  onward  the  attempt  to  break 
down  oui-  Lord's  influence  becomes  much  more 
definite  and  decided.  His  supposed  birthidace, — 
Nazareth, — His  liumble  parentage.  His  lack  of  a 
really  good  education,  all  these  and  many  other 
objections  were  constantly  urged  (Jn  7'°),  and 
must  have  caused  some  difficulty  in  the  disciples' 
minds.  His  great  assertions  that  He  was  the  Bread 
of  Life  and  the  Light  of  the  worid  (Jn  6^- « 
S'-  9'),  aroused  great  opposition  and  lost  Him 
many  friends.     But  when  after  eighteen  months  of 


INFLUENCE 


INFLUENCE 


825 


criticism,  obloquy,  and  insult,  He  asked  His  dis- 
ciples definitely  as  to  their  opinion  about  Him, 
they  replied  through  Peter  without  hesitation : 
'  Thou  art  the  Christ,  the  Son  of  the  Living  God ' 
(Mt  16'*).  It  is  true  that  this  was  the  conviction 
they  had  had  at  the  outset,  but  it  had  not  been 
tested,  it  had  not  been  held  against  the  whole 
world.  The  disciples  were  not  fanatics,  they  were 
not  indifferent  to  the  opinion  of  their  own  Church 
and  nation  ;  they  felt  keenly  the  opposition  and 
hatred  which  tlieir  \-ie\v  everywhere  encountered, 
and  yet  they  held  it.  It  is  a  striking  proof  of  our 
Lord  s  personal  influence.  That  He  knew  their 
difficulties  is  plain  from  the  fact  that  He  prayed 
for  them  before  He  asked  the  question  (Lk  9'*). 
That  He  rejoiced  in  their  loyalty  is  also  plain 
from  the  great  words  spoken  to  Peter  (Mt  le""""). 
The  Transfiguration  followed  quickly  (Mt  17"^-  II), 
in  order  that  the  three  disciples  who  knew  Him 
best  might  have  something  to  fall  back  upon  in 
the  greater  difficulties  that  lay  before  them.  Soon 
our  Lord  became  a  proscribed  person,  not  only  ex- 
communicated from  all  the  synagogues  of  the  land, 
but  bringing  under  that  ban  all  His  friends  (Jn 
;)22)_  Their  loyalty,  however,  remained  unbroken 
except  in  one  case,  that  of  Judas.  This  man  must 
have  felt  our  Lord's  influence  at  one  time,  and 
indeed  been  always  more  or  less  under  it.  He 
could  not  tear  himself  away  from  it,  though  he 
was  feeling  more  and  more  uncomfortable  in  the 
barren  prospects  that  Christ's  language  and  the 
hostility  of  the  world  seemed  to  suggest.  Only 
little  by  little  he  stifled  it,  and  we  may  well  believe 
that  it  was  not  till  the  very  last,  even  after  he  had 
promised  to  betray  Him,  that  it  failed.  Then  St. 
John  (13-')  adds  the  significant  words,  'After  the 
sop,  then  entered  Satan  into  him,'  and  the  disciple 
was  lost. 

The  severest  test  was  felt  after  the  arrest.  That 
the  Prince  and  Messiah  should  be  betrayed  by  His 
own  people  into  the  hands  of  the  heathen,  and  that 
they  should  clamour  for  His  death,  was  the  greatest 
trial  that  a  faithful  friendship  has  ever  had  to  bear. 
It  is  true  the  disciples  ought  to  have  known  their 
Scriptures  ;  but,  luce  good  people  to-day,  they  fol- 
lowed current  interpretations  instead  ot'  searching 
the  Holy  Writings  for  themselves.  That  our  Lord's 
influence  would  have  remained  with  them  had  He 
not  risen  again  is,  of  course,  certain  ;  but  it  would 
have  been  the  influence  of  a  holy  life  and  a  great 
example,  not  of  an  abiding  Presence  and  a  mag- 
nificent hope.  This  was  given  them  by  the  Resur- 
rection, which  at  once  illuminated  all  the  per- 
plexities of  the  past  and  made  His  Messiahship  a 


felt  reality.  And  after  Pentecost  they  found  their 
minds  and  imaginations  extraordinarily  stimulated 
by  the  presence  of  the  Holy  Ghost  who  witnessed 


to  everj'  word  and  act  of  the  Crucified  and  Risen 
Christ. 

(6)  On  t)ic  people. — This  was  as  surprising  in  its 
own  way  as  His  influence  on  the  disciples.  '  They 
heard  Him  gladly'  (Mk  12^').  They  would  have 
taken  Him  'by  force  and  made  him  king'  (Jn 
6"").  They  prevented  any  open  act  of  hostUity 
against  Hmi  on  the  part  of  the  rulers,  who  were 
afraid  of  them  (Lk  20'"  22-').  They  never  could 
make  up  their  minds  who  He  was,  but  yet  were 
convinced  He  was  no  ordinary  person.  He  was 
either  Elijah,  or  the  great  expected  Prophet,  or 
Jeremiah,  or  even  the  Baptist  risen  again  (Mt 
16"  II).  That  they  turned  completely  round  at  the 
last  was  no  doubt  due  to  tlie  malign  influence  of 
the  Pharisees  ioined  to  tlie  great  disappointment 
experienced  when  nothing  followed  the  events  of 
Palm  Sunday.  Like  the  jicople  of  Lystra,  they 
were  enraged  at  having  openly  declared  themselves 
on  the  side  of  a  movement  which  seemed  to  have 
po  result.     Our  Lord's  influence  on  the  2>eople  was 


just  what  we  should  expect,  as  we  shall  see  when 
we  consider  its  particular  character. 

(o)  On  His  enemies. — At  first  it  strikes  us 
strangely  that  One  who  not  only  did  no  harm,  but 
always  went  about  doing  good,  One  who  refused 
to  be  entrapped  into  any  jiolitical  movement,  One 
who  observed  fasts  and  festivals,  attended  syna- 
gogue and  temple,  should  have  excited  such  bitter 
hostility.  He  had  none  of  the  marks  of  a  great 
social  reformer,  disliked  crowds  and  great  cities, 
refused  to  take  advantage  of  any  excitement  caused 
l)y  His  words  or  deeds,  chose  for  His  intimate 
friends  plain  middle-class  men  who  had  no  par- 
ticular mark  about  them  except  their  religious- 
ness. All  His  teaching  was  constructive  rather 
than  destructive.  He  did  not  speak  of  the  Gentiles 
as  His  servant  Paul  did,  nor  of  the  Temple  as 
Stephen  did.  He  was  indignant  at  the  abuses 
of  the  time,  and  was  unsparing  in  His  condemna- 
tion of  Pharisees  and  scribes,  but  the  hostility  had 
set  in  before  that,  and  its  only  explanation  is  the 
hatred  of  bad  men  to  a  holy  life. 

(d)  On  individuals. — (a)  Tlie  vUit  oi  Nicodenucs 
shows  something  of  the  power  Jesus  exercised  in 
public.  Although  Nicodemus  was  a  person  of 
some  importance,  he  treats  our  Lord,  in  spite  of 
His  humble  circumstances,  as  not  only  a  great  but 
a  Divine  teacher  from  whom  he  would  gladly 
learn  (Jn  3-).  And  the  conversation  with  Him  on 
that  occasion  bore  fruit.  (^)  Pilate,  too,  was  evi- 
dently greatly  impressed  by  Jesus.  With  his  in- 
born contempt  for  the  Jews  he  would  have  decided 
the  matter  the  Sanhedrin  brought  before  him  very 
quickly,  had  it  not  been  for  the  majesty  of  Jesus' 
presence  and  the  brief  but  striking  words  He 
spoke.  That  he  should  have  been  afraid  w  hen  the 
Jews  told  him  that  the  prisoner  had  claimed  to  be 
the  Son  of  God  and  at  once  sought  another  inter- 
view, shows  that  there  was  a  mysterious  influence 
about  our  Lord  which  made  the  governor  feel  un- 
comfortable ;  and  this  fear  was  only  increased 
when  his  question,  'Whence  art  thou?'  received 
no  answer  (Jn  19*'')-  Ij)  Even  Caiaphas  treats 
Christ  with  a  respect  which  he  would  have  gladly 
dispensed  with.  His  continued  silence  led  the 
high  priest  to  take  the  very  unusual  step  of  forcing 
some  statement  out  of  Him  by  solemn  adjuration 
(Mt_26''»).  (5)  The  most  touching  illustrations  of 
Christ's  influence  are  found  amongst  the  sinful. 
They  were  drawn  to  Him  as  steel  to  the  magnet. 
He  was  their  friend  (Mt  11"),  to  whom  they  could 
give  their  confidences.  Tired  of  life  they  turned 
instinctively  to  Him,  and  gladly  gave  Him  their 
all.  Matthew,  Zacchseus,  Mary  Magdalene,  the 
woman  that  was  a  sinner,  are  only  typical  of 
hundreds  of  men  and  women  who  came  to  Him 
because  they  were  sure  of  His  love,  and  recognized 
that  He  had  power  to  forgive. 

2.  Secret  of  Christ's  influence. —(a)  iVo/ 
the  influence  of  His  position  as  Son  of  God. — When 
we  remember  who  He  was,  the  Word  made  flesh, 
the  eternal  Son  of  God,  we  are  perhaps  surprised 
that  our  Lord  never  used  the  influence  of  His 
unique  position.  Had  He  chosen,  He  could  have 
done  what  He  was  tempted  to  do,  forced  men  to 
believe  by  some  plain  unmistakable  wonder  like 
that  of  throwing  Himself  from  the  pinnacle  of  the 
Temple  (Mt  4=').  He  could  have  appeared  as  the 
great  I  AM  attended  liy  legicms  of  angels  (26*'). 
He  could  have  dechucd  authoritatively  tliat  He 
was  the  great  God,  and  proved  it  by  the  destruction 
of  the  towns  and  villages  which  denied  it  (Lk  Q^-"-)- 
He  could  have  used  His  position  and  forced  men 
to  recognize  it.  And  again  and  again,  as  the 
above  references  show.  He  was  tempted  to  do  it. 
But  He  rejected  the  temptation.  It  is  a  method, 
as  we  know,  freely  employed  in  the  world,  and 
widely  popular.     People  prefer  the  influence  of  the 


S2G 


INFLUENCE 


INFLUENCE 


direct  to  the  indirect.  They  like  to  have  some 
sign  from  heaven  wliicli  -Hill  save  them  the  trouble 
of  thinking,  and  be  a  short  cut  to  a  difficult  con- 
clusion. And  the  Jews  were  always  seeking  this 
(Mt  12^);  always  hoping  that  He  would  either 
show  that  His  claims  were  invalid  and  that  He  was 
unable  to  give  a  sign,  or  satisfy  tlieir  curiosity  by 
some  miracle.  Our  Lord  tells  them  that,  even  if 
He  gave  them  a  sign,  the  sign  of  a  man  risen  from 
the  dead,  it  would  have  no  effect  in  changing  their 
lives  (Lk  16"'-).  It  may  be  asked— But  what  about 
His  miracles  1  In  the  first  place,  they  were  never 
done  as  a  proof  of  His  claims.  He  never  pro- 
claimed a  great  truth  and  then  worked  a  miracle 
to  show  it  was  true.  They_  were  all  in  obedience 
to  an  earnest  call  for  help ;  and  faith,  where  it 
could  be  liad,  was  a  condition  essential  to  His 
working  (Mk  6').  When  done,  they  were  evi- 
dences, but  only  secondary  to  the  evidence  of  His 
own  personality.  If  men  were  too  dull  to  believe 
in  Him  for  what  He  was,  then  there  was  stUl  the 
sign  of  His  works.  '  Though  ye  believe  not  me, 
believe  the  works'  (Jn  lO^^);  'Believe  me  that  I 
.am  in  the  Father,  and  the  Father  in  me ;  or  else 
believe  me  for  the  very  works'  sake '  (14"). 

(6)  Not  the  influence  of  popularity. — In  the  next 
place,  Jesus  did  not  seek  influence  through  flatter- 
ing people  or  rulers.  Satan  recognized  in  Christ 
extraordinary  attractive  powers.  His  love  and 
manners  were  such  that  He  could,  had  He  chosen, 
have  won  over  the  whole  world  to  His  side.  Never 
in  anyone  had  there  been  such  rich  human  gifts, 
such  wide  sympathies,  such  intimate  knowledge  of 
men's  ways  and  hearts.  Satan's  attempt  to  persuade 
Christ  to  do  hinx  homage  (Mt  4"  ||  Lk  4')  was  more 
subtle  than  is  often  supposed.  It  was  the  tempta- 
tion to  win,  through  flattery  of  the  world-power, 
— a  path  that  has  again  and  again  been  pursued  by 
great  men.  It  is  needless  to  point  out  that  Christ 
never  sought  influence  that  way.  The  Pharisees 
and  Herodians  only  expressed  the  general  feeling 
in  saying,  '  Master,  we  know  that  thou  art  true, 
and  teachest  the  way  of  God  in  truth,  and  carest 
not  for  anyone  :  for  thou  regardest  not  the  person 
of  men' (Mt  221"). 

(c)  The  inflnenec  of  personality.  —  Christ  influ- 
enced men  not  by  the  majesty  of  His  position  nor 
by  His  marvellous  works,  but  by  His  personality. 
It  was  what  He  wa,i  more  than  what  He  said  or 
did.  Men  felt  about  Him  that  He  was  always 
infinitely  greater  than  anything  He  said.  And  it 
was  because  of  the  tremendous  force  that  sprang 
forth  from  His  persoiiiiliiy  tlua  Ho  could  say  the 
most  amazing  thinj;s  «i(iinui  .-inKizing.  It  must 
be  remembered  that  Ibr  .li-ri|,|,  .,  «cre,  during  His 
lifetime,  feeling  their  way  tnwui.ls  the  mystery  of 
His  Person.  They  did  not  know  at  first  what 
they  knew  afterwards.  And  yet  they  could  feel 
thankful  for  teaching  which  placed  Him  before 
wife  and  child,  before  brother  or  sister  (Mt  10^"). 
They  welcomed  Him  as  the  Way,  the  Truth,  and 
the  Life.  He  did  not  point  it  out,  for  He  was  it. 
He  did  not  give  it  as  something  apart  from  Him- 
self. All  this,  which  would  have  been  intolerable 
from  anyone  else,  was  a  relief  from  Him,  as  it 
expressed  in  words  their  own  feelings  (7-").  So, 
too,  the  weight  of  His  authority  was  not  that  of 
the  scribes,  dependent  on  others,  but  that  derived 
from  His  own  personality.  It  was  this  that 
astonished  the  people,  who  were,  accustomed  in 
their  teachers  to  quotations  from  others  and  to 
second-hand  information.  With  Him  it  was  always 
personal :  '  We  speak  that  we  do  know,  and  testify 
that  we  have  .seen'  (Jn  3").  Now  and  again  it 
flashed  forth  in  a  way  that  dazzled  and  over- 
powered, as  when  the  men  of  Nazareth  wished  to 
fling  Him  over  the  clift',  as  when  those  of  Jerusalem 
would  have  stoned  Him,  as  when  those  sent  to 


arrest  Him  fell  back  when  He  dei'lared  who  He 
was  (Lk  4=»,  Jn  8™  18«). 

(d)  Poiver  of  the  Holy  G/io.*)-.— Beyond  all  this 
there  is  something  far  more  difiicult  to  explain, 
viz.  the  effect  of  the  descent  of  the  Holy  Ghost  at 
His  Baptism.  When  the  Baptist  was  asked  to 
account  for  the  influence  of  Christ,  he  replied,  '  A 
man  can  receive  nothing  except  it  be  given  him 
from  heaven,'  and  went  on  to  say  that  not  only 
was  the  Christ  above  all  as  coming  from  above, 
but  that  He  was  endowed  with  the  Spirit  beyond 
all  measure  (Jn  3"-  **).  It  would  seem,  though 
the  passage  is  not  clear,  that  part  of  His  influence 
was  due  to  the  co-operation  of  the  Holy  Ghost 
with  His  own  spirit.  The  Holy  Ghost  given  to 
man  in  such  measure  as  man's  limitations  allow, 
was  given  to  the  infinite  heart  and  mind  of  Christ 
fully,  infinitely,  without  bound.  And  in  the  power 
of  that  Divine  Spirit  He  began  His  ministry  (Lk 
4'*"-'),  not  only  teaching  men's  minds,  but  by  the 
'finger  of  God'  (11-") — an  expression  interpreted 
by  some  of  the  Holy  Ghost — casting  out  devils. 
But  whatever  may  be  the  mystery  of  the  union  of 
the  Holy  Spirit  with  Christ,  it  is  certain  that 
He  laid  stress  on  this  Power  as  being  that  wliich 
would  be  the  source  of  the  influence  His  disciples 
should  exercise. 

3.  Influence  of  the  disciples.— All  Christ's 
disciples,  without  exception,  were  to  be  influential. 
The  words,  '  \'i'  shall  receive  power,  when  the  Holy 
Ghost  is  (.■HUM-  u|i..ii  ydu'  (Ac  1'*),  were  probably 
spoken  to  tln'  Il'ii  ilisc'ijiles,  numbering  some  women 
amongst  tliriii.  Tiny  were  to  rely  upon  Him.  He 
had  told  them  previously  that  in  the  difficult  situa- 
tions which  persecutions  would  create,  they  were 
not  to  be  anxious  as  to  how  best  to  answer  the 
accusations  of  their  adversaries  :  He  Himself  would 
give  them  '  a  mouth  and  wisdom,'  and  then  further 
explained  by  saying,  '  for  it  is  not  ye  that  speak,  but 
the  Holy  Spirit'  (Lk  21i-«).  Tliey  were  then  to 
influence  the  world  not  primarily  by  intellectual 
power  or  by  wonderful  signs,  but'by  that  which  is 
deeper  than  thought  or  gifts,  namely,  their  own 
personality.  It  would  be  what  they  were,  not 
what  they  had,  the  power  of  their  own  inner  spirit, 
not  that  of  cleverness  ;  and  this  through  the  power 
of  the  Eternal  Spirit.  Spirit  can  be  touched  only 
by  spirit,  personality  can  be  developed  only  by 
personality.  When,  then,  the  Holy  Spirit  came 
down  upon  them  on  the  Day  of  Pentecost,  it  was 
the  depths,  not  the  surface  of  their  lives,  that  were 
stirred.  It  was  not  the  development  of  mere  intel- 
lectual gifts  which  enabled  them  to  communicate 
with  others,  but  such  an  enlargement  of  their  own 
spirits  that  they  felt  in  touch  with  the  whole  world, 
and  in  their  struggle  to  express  this  rush  of  sym- 
pathy, found  a  language  suitable  for  each  person 
with  whom  they  came  in  contact.  So  afterwards 
we  do  not  find  the  gift  of  tongues  a  new  language, 
but  rather  an  endeavour  to  express  the  new  en- 
largement of  their  own  spirit.  They  felt  more 
than  they  could  express,  more  sometimes  than  their 
minds  could  recognize  (1  Co  14'^).  And  this  growth 
of  personality  is  what  we  see  even  in  the  brief 
records  of  the  NT  :  Simon  becomes  Peter  ;  Levi, 
Matthew  ;  Bartholomew,  Natlianael ;  Joseph,  Bar- 
nabas ;  and  Saul,  Paul.  Their  characters  are  not 
only  stronc'er,  but  fuller  and  larger,  and  through 
them  they  built  up  churches,  and  changed  the  face 
of  the  world  in  which  they  lived.  Our  Lord  never 
supposes  they  will  be  ettective  through  education 
or  culture  or  the  presence  of  gifts.  '  Apart  from 
me  ye  can  do  nothing'  (Jn  15'').  But  the  co-opera- 
tion which  He  promises  as  the  secret  of  their  success 
is  not  that  of  a  master  who  gets  over  his  pupils 
difficulty  by  solving  it  for  him,  but  that  of  one  who 
by  liis  sympathy,  power,  and  skill  enables  him  to 
nieet  it  for  himself.    Christ  dwelt  in  them  through 


INHERITANCE 


INN 


827 


faith  by  the  power  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  and  worked 
in  them  and  through  them  in  every  painful  task 
they  had  to  accomplish. 

Literature.— Phillips  Brooks,  Injiiience  of  Jems ;  Dale,  The 
Livii\0  Christ,  ch.  iii. ;  Stalker,  Imago  Christi,  ch.  xvii. ;  New- 
man, Gram,  of  Assent^,  iiiSB. 

G.  H.  S.  Walpole. 

INHERITANCE  (Mt  21^8,  Mk  12',  Lk  20" ;  Lk 
12":  KXripofo/j.la,  derived  from  kXtjpos,  'lot,'  'por- 
tion,' '  possession,'  and  vifx(i.v,  '  to  own  or  admmis- 
ter'). — The  ordinary  Biblical  idea  of  inheritance  is 
'  the  enjoyment  by  a  rightful  title  of  that  which  is 
not  the  fruit  of  personal  exertion.  The  heir  being 
what  he  is  in  relation  to  others,  enters  upon  a 
possession  which  corresponds  with  his  position ; 
but  there  is  no  necessary  thought  of  succession  to 
one  who  has  passed  away'  (Westcott,  Epistle  to 
the  Hebrews,  p.  168).  In  the  Gospels,  however, 
the  idea  of  succession  to  a  deceased  person  is  the 
prominent  one,  as  with  ourselves.  The  chief  differ- 
ence between  the  ordinary  ancient  and  the  ordinary 
modern  conception  of  inheritance  is  this  :  We  have 
more  regard  to  the  mere  change  in  the  ownership 
of  certain  property  which  takes  place  :  the  ancient 
civilized  races  looked  rather  to  tlie  position  of  the 
heir  as  executor  and  administrator  of  the  deceased's 
property,  and  as  the  person  who,  being  clothed,  so 
to  speak,  with  the  personality  of  the  deceased,  took 
upon  himself  all  the  obligations  of  the  testator,  as 
well  as  the  continuance  of  his  race  and  the  per- 
petuation of  his  family  religion.  The  last  con- 
siderations were  the  most  jn-ominent,  and  account 
for  the  prevaknice  of  adojition  in  ancient  society. 
An  adopted  son,  or  a  relative  compelled  to  marry 
the  deceased's  daughter,  could  carry  on  the  family 
and  its  rites  as  well  as  a  real  son.  (See  Maine's 
Ancient  Law,  ch.  vi.,  and  artt.  'Heir'  and  'In- 
heritance '  in  Hastings'  DB).  See  also  art.  Heir. 
Alex.  Souter. 

INN. — Inns  in  the  time  of  Christ  were  neither 
so  infrequent  nor  so  Hi-equipped  as  many  writers 
have  represented. 

Thus  Stapfer  (Palestine  in  the  Time  of  Christ,  1866,  p.  232), 
quoting  from  the  Talmud  a  stor.v  of  some  Levites,  who,  travelling 
from  Zoar,  left  at  an  inn  one  of  their  number  who  had  fallen 
ill  upon  the  road  (iV6.  xvi.  7),  adds  the  comment,  'Such  hos- 
telries  were  rare,  and  were  found  onI>'  in  very  remote  places.' 
Other  writers  convey  the  impresyion  that  the  only  inns  existing 
in  Palestine  were  a  few  k/inii.-<,  as  liari-  aud  fimifurUess  as  those 
now  found  in  manyjiaii^  nt  thi  i^asl,  an't  .iti.n  .Irscribed  by 
modern  travellers  (sei.-.  ■.'!..  l:iiii  L]iai<il .  'J' ran  /s  m  Si/ria,  1822, 
p.  36;  Layard,  Mn.  and  Bah.  l,v.;;,  |i.  4:;^;  hav^V.ike,  Eothen, 
ch.  xvii.;  also  Kitto'sCyi-.,  ail.  '  ^;ua^allsl  rais' ;  and  Vigouroux's 
Diet.,  art.  '  Caravans6rail '). 

This  seems  to  the  present  waiter  a  mistaken 
inference,  arising  partly  fi'om  exaggerated  notions 
of  Oriental  hospitality,  and  partly  from  attribut- 
ing to  the  1st  cent.  A.i>.  s.ici.il  ia)ii.liiifms  which 
prevailed,  it  is  true,  in  piUii.irrli.il  tiim-s.  and  are 
tound  even  now  on  the  {^nat  trinli-  and  pilgrim 
routes  across  the  desert,  but  did  not  obtain  to  any- 
thing like  the  same  degi-ee  in  the  busy,  populated, 
and  prosperous  country  of  the  Herods.  The  cus- 
tomary hospitality  of  the  East  (see  Hastings'  DB, 
S.V.,  and  art.  'Gast'  in  Hamburger's  BE)  may,  of 
course,  be  a  reason  why  inns  in  the  modern  sense  of 
the  word  should  be  less  needed  than  in  Western 
countries  ;  but  the  statement  that  '  the  warm  com- 
mendations of  hospitality  in  the  NT  show  that 
even  in  the  Roman  period  the  buildings  set  apart 
for  strangers  to  lodge  in  were  of  a  simple  character 
in  Palestine  {Bnci/c  Bihl  ait  'Inn')  lequires 
considerable  modihcation 


Numerous  passages  are  cited  from  the  Talmud 
to  prove  the  extent  to  which  hospitality  prevailed 
among  the  Jews ;  but  this  traditional  virtue  was 
probably  more  praised  than  practised  in  the  1st 
century.  Tlie  conditions  peculiar  to  a  nomad  life 
came  to  be  very  materially  modified  when  the 
countryside  was  covered  with  pojralous  villages 
and  towns.  It  is  true  that,  at  the  Passover,  if  a 
Jew  came  up  to  Jerusalem  from  any  part  of  the 
empire,  he  would  find  entertainment  at  a  private 
house.  It  was  the  boast  of  the  llabbis  that,  not- 
withstanding the  crowds,  no  man  could  say,  '  I 
have  not  found  a  bed  in  Jerusalem  to  lie  in '  (Light- 
foot,  Works,  1823,  ix.  p.  128) ;  but  what  if  the  Jew 
came  at  some  other  time  than  at  one  of  the  gi'eat 
national  feasts  ?  What  if  a  Samaritan  came  ? 
Moreover,  there  was  a  large  population  of  heathen  ; 
and  even  if  Jewish  habits  of  hospitality  to  Jews 
were  equal  in  practice  to  the  theory,  no  provision 
was  made  for  the  Gentile.  Even  to  a  Jew  a  Jew 
would  shut  his  door.  When  Jesus  is  sending  out 
His  disciples  to  jireach.  He  does  not  take  it  for 
granted  that  they  will  always  find  a  ready  welcome 
or  free  entertainment  (Mt  10"-",   Mk  6'°- ",  Lk 

IQIO.  11). 

Nor  is  it  safe  to  argue  from  the  comparative 
silence  of  contemporary  records  that  inns  were 
rare.  It  would  not  be  guessed  by  a  reader  of  the 
Go.spels  that  in  Jerusalem  there  were  many  syna- 
gogues.'* It  is  quite  possible  that  there  were 
almost  as  many  inns  in  Jerusalem.  At  any  rate, 
it  is  misleading  to  make  the  general  statement,  as 
though  it  applied  to  all  periods  of  Jewish  history, 
that  '  inns  in  our  .sense  of  the  term  were,  as  they 
still  are,  unknown  in  the  East '  (M'Clintock  and 
Strong,  Cyc.  s.v.).  A  truer  view  is  given  in  the 
Jewish  Encyc.  (art.  '  Caravanserai ') :  '  By  NT  times 
the  Holy  Land  had  been  sufficiently  developed  to 
afford  opportunity  for  real  inns.' 

The  influx  of  Greeks  into  Palestine,  the  constant 
presence  of  a  large  Koman  element,  civil  and 
military,  the  mixed  retinue  attached  to  the  Her- 
odian  court,  the  increase  of  trade,  the  importation 
of  foreign  workmen,  the  presence  in  several  towns 
of  companies  of  gladiators,  actors,  and  the  like, 
— would  necessitate  not  only  inns,  but  various 
kinds  and  grades  of  inns. 

There  were  inns  built  on  a  large  scale,  comfortable  and  elegant, 
suited  for  high  officials  (see  CIL  iii.  6123,  where  Mommsen  ex- 
plains prattoria  as  'diversoria  nobiliora  magistratibus  iter  faci- 
entihus  reliquisque  honestioribus  destinata').  Epictetus  draws 
a  picture  of  a  traveller  Hngering  at  a  tine  hotel  because  he  finds 
e\'erything  agreeable  there  (Diss.  ii.  xxiii.  oO).  Josephus  (Ajtt. 
XV.  v.  1)  relates  that  when  Herod  the  tireat  was  celebrating 
games  at  Caesarea,  he  entertained  a  number  of  ambassadors  and 
other  visitors  at  the  public  inns  (;ia7uyMyat;).  On  the  other 
hand,  there  were  inns  of  the  lowest  description.  .\t  llie  same 
port  of  Cffisarea  there  would  doubtless  be  a  number  of  taverns 
for  sailors  (cf.  Jos.  BJ  i.  xxi.  7).  The  numerous  Tahnudic 
references  to  inns  (which,  of  course,  must  -be  used  with  some 
degree  of  caution)  indicate  that  they  were  a  distinct  feature  of 
social  life,  e.g.  *  a  public  inn  in  which  Israelites  come  and  po ' 
(Aboda  Zara,  v.  3) ;  'An  Israelite  and  a  heathen  were  once  at  an 
inn  drinking  wine*  (ib.);  '  R.  Papa  used  to  stand  outside  the 
store  of  the  heathen  and  drink  his  beer '  (ii.  4).  R.  Ishmael  bar 
Jose  declared  that  his  father  used  to  pray  in  an  inn  (Ber.  iv.  7) ; 
'Cattle  must  not  be  placed  in  the  inns  of  heathen'  (Aboclu 
Zara,  ii.  1). 

There  can  be  little  doubt  that  there  were  numer- 
ous taverns  where  food  as  well  as  drink  could  be 
obtained  (cf.  Franz  Delitzsch,  Jewish  Artizan  Lift- 
in  tlie  Time  of  Christ,  p.  47).  Not  only  heathen 
were  innkeepers,  but  Jews ;  not  only  men,  but 
women.  '  A  Jewish  woman  dealing  in  wine  once 
left  her  keys  in  charge  of  a  heathen,  and  the 
question  came  up  whether  her  wine  she  has  in  the 
tavern  is  allowed'  (Aboda  Zara,  v.  3). 

Jiilicher  {Gleichnisreden,  ii.  p.  590 ;  cf.  Bertholet, 

*,SeeTalm.  Bab.  Kelhub.  105a  ;  Jerus.  Megilla,  73d  (although, 
of  course,  the  4(ifl  is  a  characteristic  exaggeration). 


INN 


INNOCENTS 


Die  Stellung  der  Isracliten  unci  dcr  Jiidcn  zu  den 
Fremden,  \).  24)  rightly  maintains  that  the  inn  of 
Lk  lO**,  to  which  the  good  Samaritan  took  his 
patient,  was  a  liostelry  ('nicht  bios  Caravanserai 
sondeni  Gasthaus ').  The  word  used  in  this  passage 
(iravSoxelov)  is  significant.  It  was  taken  over  into 
Rabbinic  Hebrew,  and  is  the  usual  word  (npnis) 
for  '  inn'  in  the  Talmud.  The  Greek  name  shows 
that  inns  were  largely  a  product  of  the  Hellenistic 
period  (see  Schiirer,  HJP  II.  i.  33).  Other  Rabbinic 
terms,  ki-sb'n  and  n-JDax,  are  equivalents  of  hos- 
pitiiim  and  ^evla  ;  and  as  these  replace  the  OT 
terms  pSn  and  nna,  they  seem  to  indicate  that 
something  is  intended  quite  different  fi'om  the 
/.■/icni  of  tlie  lonely  road  or  the  'lodging-place  of 
wayfaring  men  in  the  wilderness '  (Jer  9^). 

It  is  difficult  to  fix  the  exact  significance  of  koto- 
\vfm,  the  other  word  used  in  the  Gospels  for  '  inn.' 
Etymologically,  it  means  '  the  place  wliere  bur- 
dens were  loosed  for  the  night.'  In  Lk  2"  it  is 
generally  taken  to  mean  an  inn  of  the  Z7w)(  type. 
Poly  bins  uses  it  in  the  plural  form  (H.  xxxvi.  1). 
Dio'durus  (xiv.  93)  relates  that  the  Romans,  in 
gratitude  for  the  services  of  one  Timasitlieus, 
gi'anted  him  5riij.6ai.oy  KardXyfia.*  The  KaTaXu/xa  of 
j\Ik  14"  and  Lk  22",  where  the  Last  Supper  was 
eaten,  is  generally  supposed  to  have  been  a  private 
house  (Hastings'  DB,  art.  'Inn')  ;  and  the  use  of 
the  verb  raTaXi'-u,  as  in  Lk  19',  is  quite  in  keeping 
with  this.  Nothing  very  definite,  however,  can 
be  (le(hi(eil  from  these  names  as  to  the  precise 
cliaracter  of  the  place  of  lodging. 

Did  Jesus  Himself  ever  enter  or  stay  at  inns? 
It  is  usually  assumed  that  His  disciples  always 
provided  hospitality  for  Him.  Yet  tlie  only  re- 
corded cases  in  which  He  accepted  it  are  those  of 
Peter's  house  at  Capernaum  and  the  house  at 
Bethany.  The  words,  '  the  Son  of  Man  hath  not 
where  to  lay  his  head '  (Mt  8™,  Lk  O'^*),  suggest 
that  hospitality  was  not  always  forthcoming.  vYe 
know  that  it  was  not  in  Samaria  (Lk  '.)■'-)  .■iiid 
among  the  Gerasenes  (8").  During  :i  i;,u>ii\rr:\.]Av 
part  of  the  year  it  would  be  no  hardsliip  Id  s|irii.l 
the  night  in  the  open  air,  and  amiariMitly  .Tcsus 
often  preferred  this,  that  He  might  have  oppor- 
tunity for  quiet  prayer,  and  more  jirivacy  tlian 
would  be  possible  m  a  house  or  an  inn.  (Cf.  J.  L. 
Porter,  Giant  Cities  of  Baslmn,  1866,  jjp.  157-159 ; 
also,  for  the  habits  of  St.  Francis  and  his  followers, 
P.  Sabatier,  Vie,  1894,  p.  88  f.).  There  is,  however, 
no  reason  against  His  having  resorted  upon 
occasion  to  jjlaces  of  public  entertainment.  These 
were  sometimes  kept  by  Jews ;  but,  if  kept  by  a 
Gentile,  this  would  not  necessarily  deter  Him  from 
going  in.  Strict  Jews  objected  to  entering  the 
house  of  a  Gentile,  lest  they  should  incur  defile- 
ment (Jn  IS'®,  cf.  Hausrath,  Hist.  NT  Times,  ii. 
85) ;  hut  Jesus,  while  recognizing  that  His  mission 
^^■as  to  Jews  primarily,  never  allowed  His  action 
to  be  limited  by  ceremonial  considerations.  For 
instance.  He  did  not  hesitate,  in  spite  of  protest, 
to' visit  the  house  of  Zacchteus,  and  the  freedom  of 
His  iiitcTcdurse  with  .all  kinds  of  iK-n\,\c  brought  on 


Hi-     .Ir.lM-      h,      .-..k      -llir      I-:  :ill      II.' 

xyouM  „ol  aN„i,Ml„.  plu.T.  wl„.,,.   Mm ,r  nu.-t 

likely  to  be  found. 

In  this  connexion  it  is  interesting  to  note  tliat  the  Talmud 
has  the  folloMing  pa-ssage :  '  In  the  time  of  the  Messiah  the 
people  \vill  be  impudent,  and  be  given  to  drinking ;  public- 


The  reputation  of  inns  seems  to  have  been  gener- 
ally bad  ;  they  were  very  often  houses  of  ill-fame, 
and  hostesses  were  looked  upon  with  suspicion. 


Yet  some  of  the  larger  inns  would  bear  a  better 
character  and  be  centres  of  influence,  and  there  is 
no  reason  why  Jesus  should  not  have  visited 
them.  In  most  countries  and  periods  the  itinerant 
preacher  has  found  the  public  inn  to  be  a  soil 
where  the  word  might  readily  take  root.  (Cf.  Fox, 
Journal,  1901,  vol.  i.  pp.  li8,  261,  258 ;  Wesley, 
Journal,  under  March  1738 ;  Boitow,  Bible  in 
Spain,  passim). 

Literature.— Ramsay,  art.  'Eoads  and  Travel  (in  NT)'  in 
Hastings'  DB,  Ext.  Vol.,  under  Inns  and  Entertainment. 

J.  Ross  Murray. 

INNOCENCE.— Innocence,  strictly  speaking,  de- 
notes the  entire  absence  of  sin  in  a  human  soul. 
A-  sucli.  in  its  primary  meaning,  we  have  no 
|HT-..ii:il  e\|.i'rience  of  it  in  ourselves  or  in  others. 
'  I'lir  all  ha\e  sinned  and  come  short  of  the  glorj- 
of  God'  (Ro  3-^).  We  can,  therefore,  have  no 
actual  knowlege  of  what  would  be  the  efl'ect  of 
this  quality  upon  a  human  character.  In  this 
sense  it  is  an  attribute  of  Jesus  Christ  alone 
among  men,  who  'was  in  all  points  tempted  like 
as  we  are,  yet  without  sin'  (He  4'^)  ;  'who  knew 
no  sin'  (2  Co  5-');  who  could  address  to  His 
watchful  foes  the  challenge,  '  Which  of  you  con- 
victeth  me  of  sin  ? '  (Jn  8-"^).  Tlie  gulf  l)etween 
innocence  and  tlie  state  of  the  soul  that  has  once 
committed  sin  can  be  realized  only  as  we  com- 
prehend the  nature  of  sin  and  its  immeasurable 
depravity  and  consequences.  See  art.  Sini.ess- 
NESS.  (For  the  subject  of  our  Lord's  innocence  of 
the  charges  which  led  to  His  crucifixion,  see  art. 
Trial  of  Jesus  Christ). 

Innocence  in  a  comparative  sense  may  be  at- 
tributed to  men  who,  though  fallen,  are  yet,  in 
respect  of  particular  sins,  innocent,  or  who  from 
circumstances  of  upbringing,  or  by  the  special 
grace  of  God,  are  shielded  from  that"  knowledge  of 
sin  by  personal  experience  wliich  is  the  common 
lot  oi  men.  Such  a  man  was  John  the  Baptist, 
who  '  was  in  the  deserts  until  the  day  of  his  sliow- 
ing  unto  Israel '  (Lk  1"*).  It  lias  been  said  that 
there  are  only  two  states  of  life  open  to  the  man 
wlio  wishes  to  serve  God.  The  one  is  the  state  of 
innocence,  the  other  of  penitence.  John  the  Bap- 
tist may  be  taken  as  a  type  of  the  one,  St.  Peter  of 
the  other.  It  must  not  be  supposed  that  innocence 
implies  ignorance  or  weakness.  If  John  the 
Baptist,  in  whose  life  no  fall  is  recorded,  the 
essence  of  whose  career  is  one  unbroken  record  of 
devotion  to  the  service  of  God,  be  taken  as  a  type 
of  innocence,  he  is  pre-eminently  the  stern  mascu- 
line type  of  character,  and  he  displays  great 
knowledge  of  men  and  power  of  dealing  witli 
the  varied  temptations  of  soldiers,  publicans,  and 
professors  of  religion. 

The  temptation  specially  addressed  to  inncicence 
is  the  knowledge  of  evil  as  well  as  good  ((In  :'.■), 
but  the  experience  of  evil  which  entails  the 
irrecoverable  loss  of  innocence  is  not  wisdom  in 
the  true  sense  of  the  word.  'The  knowledge  of 
wickedness  is  not  wisdom '  (Sir  19--).  Innocence 
l)ossesses  an  intuitive  perception  of  right  and 
NMc.iij;,  observable  in  the  child,  whicli  becomes 
liliiiited  by  the  indulgence  of  sin  ;  it  also  implies  a 
s(iriiL;th  which  is  lost  by  a  fall.  Each  successive 
lapsi'  friiin  iiinoeence  makes  the  soul  weaker  in  that 
particuhu  line,  I  mn  iii  w  liicli  tlie  fall  has  taken  place. 

For  fniii  .  '  ip; Ill  111  this  subject  the  reader 

may  ben  ) i     ;■       i  iih.ikhi  the  subject  in  lUing- 

worth's  r,  ,.  ,  ,/,,-:„,/  (  ullinlrtd Sermo7is,  p.  99ii'. 
M.  R.  Newbolt. 

INNOCENTS.— In  Mt  2"'-'8  we  find  the  narrative 
of  what  is  called  the  Massacre  of  the  Innocents. 
Adojiting  the  language  of  Jer  31''',  the  Evangelist 
represents  Rachel,  the  ancestral  mother  of  the 
people  of  Israel,  as  weeping  over  tlie  cruel  death 
of  her  children.     Herod  the  Great,  hearing  from 


INSCRIPTION 


INSIGHT 


829 


the  Magi  about  the  birth  of  a  king  of  the  Jews, 
foreshatiowed  by  the  star  in  the  East  which  they 
liad  followed,  inquired  of  the  chief  priests  and 
scribes  where  this  iironiised  prince  should  lie  horn. 
They  quoted  to  hira  tlie  words  of  Micah  (5-),  who 
speaKs  of  the  governor  ruling  Israel,  who  is  to 
come  out  of  Bethlehem  in  Judah,  the  city  of 
David.  When  the  Magi,  having  offered  their 
^'ifts  before  the  young  child  at  Bethlehem,  re- 
fused to  inform  Herod,  but  returned  to  their  own 
country  anotlier  way,  the  enraged  king  gave 
orders  that  all  the  children  from  two  years  old 
and  under  should  be  slain.  This  was  done  with 
much  cruelty,  .so  that  in  Betlilehem  and  the 
surrounding  country  there  was  great  lamenta- 
tion. 

The  truth  of  this  story  has  been  questioned. 
The  chief  gi'ound  is  tlie  silence  of  Josephus  on  the 
subject.  While  he  sjjeaks  of  many  cruel  deeds  of 
Herod,  he  passes  this  one  by.  But  it  is  plainly 
quite  of  a  piece  with  Herod's  well-known  char- 
acter, and,  indeed,  compared  witli  his  other  deeds 
of  monstrous  cruelty,  it  would  easily  escape  notice. 
The  whole  number  of  victims,  probably  not  more 
than  twenty  or  thirty,  would  not  make  a  very 
great  sensation  at  that  time.  Besides,  the  whole 
of  Josephus'  statements  in  regard  to  the  Messianic 
e.xpectations  and  doings  of  his  time  are  to  be 
looked  upon  with  some  suspicion,  for  he  seems  to 
have  been  afraid  to  make  many  clear  and  direct 
allusions  to  those  matters.     See  lNF.4Ncy. 

The  deed  illustrates  well  Herod's  general  char- 
acter for  bloodthirsty  cruelty  and  short-sighted 
follv.  But  all  his  eilorts  to  defeat  the  purposes  of 
God  with  His  people  turn  out  to  be  vain.  Joseph, 
warned  in  a  dream  by  the  angel,  took  Mary  and 
the  young  child  hastily  down  to  Egypt,  where 
they  could  calmly  await  the  death  of  the  tyrant. 
Heaven's  vengeance  soon  fell  on  tlie  blood-stained 
usurper,  dyed  with  so  many  inhuman  crimes,  and 
lie  jjassed  away  from  earth'under  the  maledictions 
of  his  down-trodden  people. 

Literature.— Hastings'  DB,  art.  'Herod';  Schaff-Herzo;,', 
Encyc.  of  Rel.  Knowl.,  art.  'Innocents'  Day' ;  Farrar,  Chriist  ni 
Art,  p.  268  fl. ;  C.  Rossetti,  Verses,  p.  57. 

D.  M.  W.  LAIRI). 

INSCRIPTION.-See  Title  on  Ckos.s. 
INSECTS.— See  Animals,  p.  67^ 

INSIGHT, — In  ordinary  literary  usage  the  word 
'insight'  is  employed  to  sipnify  tlie  intellectual 
apprehension  of  thr  i  .uim'  oi  |.io.V->.',  to  which  an 
object  or  event  o\m>  ii>  oi  iuin.  ;i,  .li-i  niL:uished  from 
the  mere  perception  ,,i  ihr  ,,l,|,.-,i  or  rvcnt  itself. 
Weget  an  insight  into  the  wurking  of  a  steam- 
engine,  e.g.,  when  we  liave  mastered  the  primiplo- 
of  engineering;  or  into  some  great  political  <  risi- 
when  the  various  motives  that  acted  \\\n<\\  iIk 
minds  of  the  statesmen  who  took  part  in  it  ux,- 
revealed  to  us.  Insight  is  also  used  to  dc-iunalo 
the  faculty  that  penetrates  into  the  causes  ihal  Vw 
behind  appearances.  A  man  of  practical  iiisii^lit  is 
a  man  of  quick  discernment  of  the  principles  that 
determine  the  appearance  of  the  objects  or  events 
that  are  recurrent  in  the  business  or  intercourse  of 
life.  A  man  of  political  insight  is  a  man  who  in- 
stinctively understands  what  the  community  will 
think,  desire,  or  do  at  any  particular  period  or 
special  conjunction  of  circumstances. 

In  the  spiritual  or  metaphysical  sphere,  '  insight ' 
has  the  same  double  meaning.  It  is  the  immediate 
apprehension  of  the  spiritual  sig-niiicance  of  truths 
that  can  be  stated  as  objective  facts.  It  is  also 
the  faculty  of  the  higher  reason  which  intuitively 
grasps  this  spiritual  significance.  Goethe  says : 
'There  are  men  who  put  their  knowledge  in  the 
place  of  insight.'    Here  the  word  is  used  in  the 


first  sense  of  intuitive  apprehension  of  spiritual 
truth.  'Jealousy  to  resist  metaphor,'  says  Francis 
Newman,  'does  not  testify  to  depth  of  insight.' 
Here  it  is  the  faculty  that  is  referred  to.  The 
limits  or  even  the  jirecise  nature  of  this  faculty  of 
insi"ht  have  never  been  adequately  defined.  It  is 
used  of  those  subtle  processes  of  thought  that  elude 
the  syllogistic  reason,  but  with  which  all  are  more 
or  less  familiar  in  experience.  It  is  used  also  to 
designate  that  higher  faculty  of  the  soul  through 
which  the  mystic  claims  to  attain  to  the  immediate 
cognition  of  the  Absolute  in  its  pure  being. 

Generally  it  may  be  said  that,  in  the  religious 
meaning  of  the  word,  insight  is  direct  perception 
of,  or  the  faculty  of  the  soul  that  perceives,  the 
spiritual  order  that  lies  behind  phenomena.  Sight 
sees  the  visible,  the  phenomenal  ;  insight  gi'asps 
the  invisible,  the  noumenal.  The  very  definition 
involves  a  theory.  It  implies  that  there  is  in  the 
universe  a  spiritual  order,  of  Mliich  man  is  a  con- 
stituent element,  to  perceive  ;  that  tlie  noumenal  is 
real,  and  that  what  is  called  immediate  cognition 
of  it  conveys  genuine  knowledge,  knowledge  that 
can  be  relied  upon  as  a  safe  guide  to  action.  It  is 
clear  that  this  theory  cannot  he  proved  by  any  of 
the  ordinary  [adiesses  of  reasoning,  seeing  it  is 
the  result  of  an  iniinediate  cognition  which  is  valid 
only  for  tlio  in'li\  iiliuil.  Sight  carries  its  own  evi- 
dence ;  and  insight,  wliich  is  the  higher  sight,  must 
do  the  same.  Truths  which  come  to  us  through 
insight,  and  which  press  themselves  home  to  the 
soul  with  irresistible  conviction,  must  prove  them- 
selves in  experience  by  their  power  of  explaining 
the  facts  and  solving  the  problems  of  life.  Ex- 
perience must  be  the  ultimate  test  of  reality. 
Truths  of  insight  are  the  postulates  of  experience. 
The  soul  recognizes  its  immediate  cognitions  as 
corresponding  with  reality,  because  they  are  neces- 
sary to  make  its  experience  rational. 

It  is  a  characteristic  of  Jesus  that  with  Him  sight 
i>  insinlif.  The  s]iiritual  vision  is  to  Him  so  clear 
lliai  ii  i^  uiDioi  cs^aiy  to  designate  the  faculty  or 
it^  ..l.ji'it  l,y  anoiliL-r  term.  Jesus  is  the  only- 
lir-ott.-n  Son  wliich  is  in  the  bosom  of  the  Father 
(Jn  1")— the  l.o-o,  wlii.h  «as  with  God  and  which 
was  God  (v.').  .Ions  mo-  (io.l  a-  ni>  man  can  see 
Hhn,  for  liumaii  vision  oi  (  ;,h|  r,ni  only  be  through 
the  light  with  whirl,  11,.  illnniini's  tli'o  soul  _(v.«). 
Because  of  this  unique  relation  with  the  ultimate 
spiritual  Reality,  His  insight  into  the  nature  of 
God  is  a  clear  and  open  vision.  The  claims  He 
makes,  therefore,  as  to  His  intimate  union  with 
God  are  the  outcome  of  a  jiersonal  consciousness 
which  is  part  of  His  essential  being.  It  is  similar 
to  our  own   assurance  of  selfhood.     When  Jesus 


T  and  the  Fnthei 

..1  ll„.  fa,'t  as  wli 

:o     -     l,~not'    ,l,-il,M 

are  one'  (10™),  He  is  as 
■„  w,.  .av,  -1  am  I.'     For 

\\\n-,r  ilio  ,.l,jeet  of  con- 
,ul    aial    i,araeted    by  the 

,.-.j1   sense  or  the 
the  spirit  sees  thi 
of  pure  Keality. 
what  seems  to  lie. 

li;.t,.itioii.-,  of  passion,  but 

igs  as  they  are.     It  is  the 

There  the  soul  sees  what 

And,  further,  Jesus  thus 

living  in  the  Absolute  and  Eternal,  sees  the  lives 
of  men  and  the  processes  of  histoi-y  purely  in  the 
light  of  their  spiritual  issues.  What  touches  His 
consciousness  in  the  great  hvmian  drama  is  the 
hidden  movement  that  is  workin"  out  human 
destiny.  With  Him  the  fact  is  merely  the  symbol, 
and  the  symbol  has  become  so  luminous  that  His 
vision  is  always  of  the  spiritual  processes  of  which 
it  is  an  indication.  Browning  in  tl,,'  T.jiislU  of 
Karahish,  the  Arab  Physician,  lia~  ma^le  a  , laving 
attempt  to  get  into  a  conscioiisn,'v~  similai  |,i  that 
of  Jesus,  by  trying  to  imagine  l,o^^  a  man  whose 
soul  had  assimilated  the  pure  spiritual  environ- 
ment of  heaven,  would  feel  and  act  were  he  per- 
mitted to  come  back  to  earth  and  to  envisage  life 


830 


INSIGHT 


INSIGHT 


from   the  standpoint  of   the  new  experience.     It 
would  be — 

'  Heaven  opened  to  a  soul  while  yet  on  earth. 
Earth  forced  on  a  soul's  use  while  seeing  heaven.' 

The  attempt  is  strikingly  suggestive,  but  Lazarus 
remains  a  man  with  a  finite  soul,  who  cannot  find 
his  tnie  function  in  what  is  now  an  alien  environ- 
ment. With  Jesus  this  spiritual  consciousness  was 
so  perfect  that  it  mastered  its  alien  environment 
and  moved  through  it  calmly  and  serenely,  indi- 
cating its  true  place  in  the  Divine  purpose,  and 
giving  the  right  mterpretation  to  all  its  manifesta- 
tions. The  teaching  of  Jesus  is  thus  a  key  to  the 
meaning  of  life,  because  He  sees  life  in  its  essence, 
and  has  a  sure  insight  into  those  hidden  processes 
that  are  evolving  the  visible  order  of  existence. 

And  again,  from  His  very  nature,  the  insight  of 
Jesus  into  the  individual  souls  of  men  is  no  less 
sure  and  unerring.  He  reads  the  human  soul  like 
an  open  book.  He  needed  not  that  any  should 
testify  of  man,  for  He  knew  what  was  in  man  (Jn 
2").  He  could  trace  accurately  the  working  of  the 
ideas  He  was  instilling  into  the  minds  of  His  dis- 
ciples, as  they  mingled  with  their  own  crude  reli- 
gious conceptions  (6*')-  He  understood  perfectly 
the  feeling  of  instinctive  resistance  that  arose 
within  the  minds  of  the  Pharisees  at  the  impact  of 
spiritual  tiuth  upon  the  hard  crust  of  an  artificial 
religionism  which  had  become  part  of  their  very 
natm-e  (Lk  6*,  Mt  12=^).  And  He  recognized  the 
uprising  of  a  pure  spiritual  emotion  in  the  hearts 
even  of  the  most  degraded  when  it  was  spontaneous 
and  genuine  (Lk  l"),  while  He  could  repress  and 
discourage  the  most  fervent  ofl'er  of  devotion  when 
He  detected  in  it  a  vein  of  insincerity  (9''"-**).  It 
was  this  insight  into  human  nature  wliicli  was  the 
secret  of  His  amazing  power  over  men  in  the  days 
of  His  flesh.  It  is  a  faculty  possessed  by  men  in 
very  varying  degrees.  Its  accuracy  and  intensity 
depend  upon  the  richness  of  a  man's  nature— upon 
his  knowledge  of  and  sympathy  with  the  i:amut  of 
human  emotion.  There  have  lieen  i]i:uiy  men  of 
wonderful  insight,  and  therefore  of  strmiL;  ]iersonal 
ma^etism.  But  man's  insiglit  i^  alw.iy^  olisi-ured 
by  indiWdual  bias  and  by  thf  ol.-n  urti.m  of  the 
medium  of  sense  which  conoe.iK  iIm  ~nnl  -  working. 
Men  are  always  more  or  les>  .li.  eivtil.  .iml  even 
men  of  the  keenest  insight  often  break  down  in 
their  reading  of  character  at  the  point  where  it  is 
most  essential  for  them  to  be  right.  Jesus  was  per- 
fect man,  and  therefore  His  sympathy  with  men  was 
f uU  and  entire,  and  touched  human  nature  at  every 
point.  For  Jesus,  who  viewed  human  life  in  the 
light  of  eternity,  the  sense-medium  did  not  exist. 
It  was  the  spirit  that  was  always  before  His  vision, 
and  therefore  His  knowledge  of  the  Iniinaii  heart 
was  instinctive  and  unerring.  Hencr  it  «a-  that 
the  method  of  Jesus  in  dealing  witli  iUmi-.-  i\|m-^ 
of  character  is  so  full  of  suggestivenes-  an.l  in-hur- 
tion. 

This  conception  of  the  consciousness  of  Jesus 
must  be  kept  clearly  in  mind  when  we  study  His 
sayings.  His  is  a  consciousness  that  moves  freely 
in  the  realm  of  pure  Reality,  and  visualizes  God, 
human  destiny,  and  the  individual  soul  in  the  light 
of  their  eternal  relations.  Hence  those  man-ellous 
revelations  of  the  essence  of  the  Divine  Nature  in 
its  correspondence  to  human  needs  and  human 
aspirations.  Hence,  too,  it  results  that  it  is  the 
spuitual  meaning  of  human  actions  alone  that  gives 
them  value  to  Him,  and  the  measure  of  their 
value  is  the  degree  of  spiritual  ^-itality  they  in- 
dicate. Thus  Jesus  continually  reverses'  the  v'alua- 
tions  of  the  world,  which  are  "based  on  the  theory 
of  the  reality  of  the  objects  of  sense-iierceiitioii. 
He  that  is  greatest  among  men  is  he  tliat  is  the 
servant  of  all  (Mk  ff«).  The  two  mites  throw  u  by 
the  widow  into  the  Temple  treasury  are  a  more 


munificent  ofl'eriug  than  the  costly  gifts  of  the 
Pharisees,  because  they  represent  a  greater  degree 
of  sacrifice  (12*'- ").  The  action  of  Mary  in  break- 
ing over  the  head  of  Jesus  the  alabaster  box  of  very- 
precious  ointment,  is  one  of  the  memorable  events 
of  history,  because  it  indicates  a  tine  perception  of 
what  is  due  to  the  Lord  of  life  at  the  supremely 
critical  moment  of  world-development  (Mk  14',  Jn 
12^).  Jesus  gives  to  the  penitent  thief  the  assur- 
ance of  immediate  entry  into  Paradise,  because 
full  and  adequate  penitence  for  sin  is  itself  the 
crossing  of  the  threshold  of  the  spiritual  realm 
(Lk  23''').  If  this  clue  be  rigorously  applied,  it 
solves  many  of  the  difficulties  that  beset  a  literal 
exegesis  of  the  words  of  Jesus.  It  is  especially 
significant  when  we  study  His  apocalyptic  utter- 
ances. Here  the  difficulty  of  interpretation  fre- 
quently lies  in  the  fact  that  the  commentator  often 
attempts  to  force  upon  them  a  materialistic  mean- 
ing that  was  never  intended.  Language  is  material , 
and  has  been  constructed  primarily  tn  indirate  tlic 
phenomena  of  sense-perception.  Wlicn  it  i-  n-il 
to  describe  spiritual  processes,  the  i^lia^  lum.  yrd 
must  be  detached  fi'om  the  medium  of  c  (.ini  yanrr, 
if  they  are  to  be  rightly  tmderstood.  Jesus  lived 
in  the  noumenal  world.  What  He  saw  there  He 
could  convey  to  the  souls  of  His  hearers  only  by 
the  use  of  words  that  had  been  coined  to  connote 
totally  diflerent  conceptions.  AVhen  Nathanael, 
struck  by  Jesus'  recognition  of  him  under  the  fig- 
tree,  hails  Him  as  the  Son  of  God,  Jesus  says : 
'  Because  I  said  unto  thee,  I  saw  thee  under  the  fig- 
tree,  believest  thou?  .  .  .  Verily,  verily,  I  say 
unto  you,  Henceforth  ye  shall  see  heaven  open,  and 
the  angels  of  God  ascending  and  descending  upon 
the  Son  of  man '  ( Jn  !*>•  *').  It  is  significant  that  the 
A V  translates  ax'  apn  '  hereafter. '  The  translators 
were  e\'idently  dominated  by  the  idea  that  Jesus 
is  describing  a  physical  marvel  which  Nathanael 
mil  witness  in  the  distant  future.  But  Jesus 
clearly  means  that  the  intercourse  of  Nathanael 
with  Himself  will  bring  heaven  to  his  soul,  and 
enable  liim  to  realize  that  a  living  link  of  com- 
mimication  has  been  established  between  God  and 
man. 

The  words  of  Jesus  regarding  death,  judgment. 
His  second  coming,  and  the  life  to  come,  can  be 
interpreted  with  rigorous  precision,  even  although 
they  clothe  spiritual  conceptions  with  a  material 
garb.  They  are  not  mere  metaphors,  for  a  meta- 
phor is  rarely,  if  ever,  the  exact  counterpart  of  the 
idea  it  illustrates.  Jesus  is  dwelling  in  eternity 
and  conteiiiplating  the  processes  of  the  spiritual 
world,  and  He  conveys  to  the  receptive  soul  by  the 
only  medium  at  His  command  the  impression  He 
Hiinsi'lt  iiTiivi-  troin  His  direct  ATsion  of  the 
tiutli  Hi'  i-  iM\  i- i-iiiu.  The  medium  is  of  value 
only  in  -o  lai  a-  II  ~.iM--  its  purpo.se.  To  the  irre- 
M>oii>ivc  soul  it  ha>  no  meaning  or  value  at  all.  To 
the  soul  tliat  has  the  factilty  of  ■vision  the  words  are 
luminous,  and  reveal  God's  secrets.  There  is  no 
question  here  of  metaphor  except  in  so  far  as  nine- 
tenths  of  spoken  words  are  metaphorical.  There  is 
nothing  overstrained  or  untrue. 

The  bearing  of  this  on  the  doctrine  of  Revelation 
cannot  here  be  overlooked.  Revelation  is  insight 
in  its  intensest  form.  The  ie\-elatioii  irianted  to 
the  prophets  in  OT  times  ^^  iv  thiii  iii-ij;ht  into 
the  meaning  of  God's  way-,  tie  ii  \i-ion  of  the 
spiritual  proce-sses  through  « hirh  ilie  liiulier  life 
of  humanity  is  evolved.  The  revelation  granted 
to  the  A|iostle>  was  their  response  to  the  brilliancy 
of  tlie  liulit  that  streamed  from  the  Eternal  Word 
during  the  lirief  jieriod  of  His  Incamation.  Jesus 
reveals  because  He  is  the  Light  of  the  world.  He 
never  argues.  He  knows  nothing  of  the  dialectic 
process  in  pressing  home  the  higher  truths  to  the 
soul.     He  sees  and  He  would  have  others  to  see, 


INSPIRATION 


INSPIRATION 


831 


and  only  in  so  far  as  they  see  is  He  capable  of 
blessing  tliem  (Jn  12"-  ■"*).  It  follows  that  all 
revelation  is  personal,  and  incommunicable  from 
one  man  to  another.  Only  the  Triune  God  is  the 
Revealer  of  the  s))iritual  mystery.  A  written 
revelation  is  thus,  in  the  strict  meaning  of  the 
words,  a  contradiction  in  terms.  The  Bible  is  not 
a  revelation,  but  a  record  of  a  series  of  revelations 
that  were  given  to  men  of  insight,  men  who  pos- 
sessed the  faculty  of  vision.  Its  purpose  is  not  to 
reveal,  but  to  put  the  soul  in  an  attitude  of  expect- 
ancy by  telling  what  other  men  have  seen.  It  is 
the  Holy  Spirit  that  quickens  the  soul  and  conveys 
the  gift  of  vision  to  which  alone  Divine  Truth  can 
be  revealed.  This  is  eveiywhere  the  doctrine  of 
Scripture,  and  has  never  been  more  clearly  or 
beautifully  stated  than  in  the  Westminster  Confes- 
sion of  Faith  (ch.  i.  par.  5). 

Jesus  invariably  attaches  a  knowledge  of  the 
Divine  mysteries  to  a  certain  spiritual  attitude 
apart  from  wliich  nothing  can  be  kno^vn.  It  is  the 
pure  in  heart  who  see  God  (Mt  5').  It  is  the  doer 
of  God's  will  who  alone  can  judge  of  the  truth  of 
His  doctrine  (Jn  7"^-  ").  The  sin  of  the  Pharisees 
is  that  they  are  blind  while  thev  think  they  see 
(Q'").  No  matter  with  what  bri'lliiim-y  the  light 
may  shine,  so  long  as  the  spiritual  orli  is  darkened 
it  can  reveal  nothing  of  the  wonders  of  the  spirit- 
land  {V-].  And  St.  Paul  says  that  no  man  knoweth 
the  things  of  God  ;  it  is  the  Spirit  of  God  alone 
who  knoweth  them  ;  and  only  in  so  far  as  the  spirit 
of  man  is  illumined  by  the  Spirit  of  God  can  they 
be  revealed  to  him  (1  Co  2").  Only  when  the 
Divine  in  man  meets  and  mingles  with  the  Divine 
that  is  without  and  around  him  can  there  result 
that  spiritual  certainty  which  is  revelation. 

Insight,  then,  in  the  spiritual  sense  of  the  term 
(which  is  the  sense  in  which  it  is  generally  used), 
links  itself  on  to  the  doctrine  of  tlie  Holy  Spirit 
(wh.  see).  It  is  the  Light  that  lighteth  every  man 
coming  into  the  world ;  for  we  must  assume  that 
the  capacity,  in  germ  at  least,  is  universal  as 
humanity,  otherwise  there  would  be  some  to  whom 
religion  is  impossible.  But  it  is  given  in  vary- 
ing degrees,  and  is  conditioned  by  varying  environ- 
ments. The  visions  it  sees  are  not  always  of 
reality,  for  the  medium  through  which  it  looks  is 
often  obscured  by  earthly  passions  and  prejudices. 
But  when  it  does  see  right  into  the  heart  of  things, 
it  enunciates  truths  to  which  the  soul  clings  as 
essential  to  its  very  life. 


Jlectums  0/  Goethe 
William  Blake ;  P.  W.  Sfewman,  The  Soul ;  Hibbert  Lectures 
on  Basis  of  Religions  Beliefs  by  C.  B.  Upton ;  James,  Varieties 
of  Religiom  Experience  ;  Ewald,  Revelation,  its  Nature  and  its 
Record ;  Oman,  Vision  and  Authority ;  Vf.  P.  du  Bose,  The 
Ecumenical  Councils ;  Herrmann,  Verkehr  des  Christen  mit 
Gott ;  Meister  Eckhart,  Schriftm  und  Prcdtgten,  lieipzig,  1903. 

A.  Miller. 
INSPIRATION.— The  term  employed  to  denote 
the  action  of  the  Divine  Spirit  upon  the  writers 
of  Scri|>ture.  Literally  signifying  a  breathing  into, 
it  has  the  secondary  meaning  of  breathing  a  cer- 
tain spirit  into  the  mind  or  soul,  and  is  therefore 
naturally  employed  to  express  the  influence  of  God 
upon  the  sacred  writers.  '  Inspiration  in  general  is 
the  influence  of  one  jierson  upon  another ;  Divine 
inspiration  is  the  influence  of  the  Divine  Person 
upon  the  human  '  (Wood,  A  Tcnnhlc  Theory  of  In.ip. 
p.  10).  In  Scripture  itself  we  lind  the  idea  in  Hos 
9'  (LXX)  expressed  by  the  word  irpev/jiaToipdpos  — 
though  in  this  case  the  inspiration  was  not  Divine. 
In  the  NT  (2P  l=i)  similarly  iml,  7r«iiMaros  ayiov 
(t>ep6/j.etioL.  In  non-Christian  literature  inspired  men 
are  spoken  of  as  SeoSlSaKToi.,  6e6(j>opoi,  deoipopovixevoi., 
6e65oxoi,  BebirvewTOi,  hdeoi,  iirlirvoot.,  ^aKxi^vd/jLenoi., 
fiaivofiei'OL,  divino  numine  a-fflati,  inspirati,furcntes. 
The  use  of  the  word  '  inspiration '  to  express  the 


Divine  factor  in  Scripture  is  probably  derived  from 
the  fact  that  the  words  of  2  Ti  3'^  Tracra  ypa^h 
eeiiruevcTos  are  rendered  in  the  Vulgate  'oranis 
Scriptura  divinitus  inspirata.'  The  definition  given 
by  liCe  (.Insjy.  p.  27  f.)  is  sufficient  as  conveying 
the  general  idea  attached  to  the  word.  '  By  in  - 
spiration  I  understand  that  actuating  energy  of 
the  Holy  Spirit,  in  whatever  degree  or  manner  it 
may  have  been  exercised,  guided  by  which  the 
human  agents  chosen  by  God  have  officially  pro- 
claimed His  will  by  word  of  mouth,  or  have  com- 
mitted to  writing  tne  several  portions  of  the  Bible.' 
Sanday's  explanation  of  the  word  is  excellent : 
'Just  as  one  particular  branch  of  one  particular 
stock  was  chosen  to  be  in  a  general  sense  the 
recipient  of  a  clearer  revelation  than  was  vouch- 
safed to  others,  so  within  that  branch  certain 
individuals  were  chosen  to  have  their  hearts  and 
minds  moved  in  a  manner  more  penetrating  and 
more  ett'ective  than  their  fellows,  with  the  result 
that  their  written  words  convey  to  us  truths  about 
the  nature  of  God  and  His  dealings  with  man 
which  other  writings  do  not  convey  with  equal 
fulness,  power,  and  purity.  We  say  that  this 
special  moving  is  due  to  the  action  upon  those 
hearts  and  minds  of  the  Holy  Spirit.  And  we  call 
that  action  Inspiration '  (Bampton  Lect.  p.  127). 
Or  we  may  say  that  as  God  revealed  Himself  in 
creation,  in  the  history  of  His  people,  and  especially, 
in  Jesus  Christ,  He  also  enabled  certain  persons 
to  perceive  and  express  the  significance  of  that 
revelation ;  and  this  ability  is  what  we  mean  by 
inspiration. 

Inspiration  is  claimed  not  only  for  our  Scriptures, 
but  for  the  other  sacred  books  of  the  world.  Tlie 
Vedas,  the  books  of  Zoroaster  and  of  the  Buddhists, 
the  Koran,  all  rest  their  claim  to  be  received  on 
the  belief  that  they  proceed  from  a  Divine  source. 
Even  where  tribes  are  too  uncivilized  to  possess 
sacred  writings,  there  exists  a  belief  that  God  makes 
kno^vn  His  mind  through  dreams,  oracles,  or  in- 
spired individuals  ;  and  the  presence  and  influence 
of  God  is  frequently  spoken  of  as  an  afflatus,  the 
blowing  of  a  breath  or  wind  upon  the  inspired  per- 
son. To  the  idea  that  knowledge  is  supernaturally 
conveyed  to  persons  who  are  not  in  the  historic 
line  of  Scriptural  revelation,  sanction  is  given  in  the 
OT  by  the  instances  of  Abimelech,  Pharaoh,  and 
Balaam.  And  whUe  in  the  sacred  books  of  the 
world  there  is  a  great  deal  that  is  superstitious, 
contemptible,  and  degrading,  there  is  also  much 
that  illustrates  man's  thirst  for  God,  and  much  also 
to  show  that  God  responds  to  that  thirst.  We 
naturally  expect  to  lind  a  fuller  inspiration  in 
those  who  were  in  touch  with,  and  were  called  to 
record,  the  great  progressive  liistorical  revelation 
which  culminated  in  Christ ;  but  we  need  not 
therefore  deny  all  Divine  response  and  assistance 
to  those  who  on  other  lines  were  setting  their  faces 
Godwards. 

1.  The  claim  of  Scripture  to  be  inspired.— 
The  OT  was  accepted  as  inspired  both  by  the  NT 
writers  and  by  all  their  Jewish  contemporaries. 
At  that  date  certain  of  the  books  eventually  in- 
cluded in  the  OT  had  not  been  definitely  admitted 
to  canonical  authority ;  but,  speaking  generally, 
the  writings  of  the  OT  were  universally  held  to  be 
Divine,  sacred,  in  some  true  sense  the  word  of 
God.     Of  this  there  is  abundant  evidence. 

(a)  Our  Lord  Himself  appeals  to  the  OT  as  a 
final  authority  (Mt  19^  Jn  5").  He  refers  to  it  as 
the  prophetic'  index  to,  and  justification  of,  the 
providential  dealings  of  God  (Lk  24",  Jn  10^). 
Expressly,  in  citing  Ps  110,  He  introduces  the 
quotation  with  the  words,  'David  himself  by  the 
Holy  Spirit  said '  {avrdi  Aoi/eiS  elirev  ev  t^J  Tvev/iaTi 
T(fi  dviV),  Mk  12^".  And  significantly  in  adducing 
the    Law  in    contrast    to    the  traditions   of   the 


832 


INSPIRATION 


INSPIRATION 


elders,  the  highest  human  authorit}-,  He  altogether 
neglects  the  human  mediation  of  the  ^^T^ter,  and 
simply  saj-s,  'For  God  said'  (Mt  15^).  His  per- 
sonal reliance  upon  Scripture  is  visible  in  His  use 
of  it  as  His  defence  in  the  stress  of  temptation 
(Mt  i^-'-io)  and  as  the  authentication  of  His 
ministry  (Lk  4'"-=').  It  vas  the  OT  which  pre- 
served the  knowledge  of  the  marvellous  history  of 
which  He  recognized  Himself  to  be  the  culmina- 
tion. In  it  He  met  all  that  Avas  Divine  in  the 
past,  and  acknowledged  the  regulating  Divine 
Spirit  throughout. 

(fi)  As  with  the  Master,  so  Avith  the  disciples. 
In  the  First  Gospel  the  writer  has  ever  in  his  eye 
t6  pTjdif  yird  Kvpiov  Sia  tov  Tpo<pr\Tov  (1").  In  their 
first  independent  action  the  disciples  were  de- 
termined oy  their  belief  that  they  must  fulfil  the 
Scripture  iiv  wpoe't-rrcv  to  irveufia  rb  dyiov  Sta  ffrojuaros 
AaveiS  (Ac  l'«,  cf.  28=^).  For  St.  Paul  as  for  St. 
Peter  the  utterances  of  the  OT  are  the  X67ia  eeoO 
(Ro  3%  1  P  4").  'It  is  A\Titten'  is  the  ultimate 
authority.  The  Scripture  is  identified  with  God, 
so  that  St.  Paul  can  sav  (Ro  9")  'the  scripture 
.saith  unto  Pliaraoh ' ;  and  it  is  God  who  speaks  in 
the  prophets  (9-^).  In  the  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews 
the  same  concejition  of  Scripture  prevails.  Quota- 
lions  are  introduced  with  the  formula,  '  the  Holy 
Spirit  saith ' ;  and  the  revelation  of  Christ  is  but 
the  completion  of  the  revelation  of  the  OT.  It 
was  God  who  spoke  in  tlie  prophets  (He  1').  The 
very  titles  under  wliich  the  OT  Scriptures  are 
designated  sutliciently  manifest  the  belief  that 
they  were  written  under  the  inspiration  of  God. 
(For  these  titles,  see  Kyle,  Canon  of  OT,  p.  302). 

(c)  As  representative  of  contemporary  Jewish 
thought  it  is  enough  to  cite  Philo  and  Josephus. 
The  former  explicitly  affirms  the  inspiration  of 
Moses,  speaking  of  iiini  as  'that  purest  mind 
winch  received  at  once  the  gift  of  legislation  and 
of  prophecy  with  Divinely  inspired  wisdom'  {Beocpo- 
prjTip  <7o<piif,  dc  Cottgr.  Erud.  c.  24,  ed.  Mangey,  i. 
538)  and  as  KaTawneivffeli  vr'  Ipuros  ovpaviov  (dc  Vita 
Mos.,  Mangey,  ii.  145).  To  Isaiah  and  Jeremiah 
'as  members  of  the  prophetic  choir,' he  expressly 
ascribes  inspiration  {tov  Trpo^jjriicoC  eitKnirrris  xopo'". 
8s  KaTaTTi/ewrffels  ev6ovai.wv  avftpdiy^aTO,  de  Conf.  Ling. 
c.  12,  Mangey,  i.  411).  Josephus  is  equally  explicit. 
Vying  witli  PhUo  in  reverential  esteem  for  the  OT, 
he  bases  this  esteem  on  the  belief  that  the  authors 
of  the  various  books  AATote  under  the  influence  of 
the  DiA-ine  Spirit  (Ant.  IV.  viii.  49,  III.  v.  4,  x. 
ii.  2;  cf.  c.  Apion.  i.  7). 

No  belief  of  later  Judaism  was  more  universal 
or  constant  than  this  acceptance  of  the  OT  Scrip- 
tures as  inspired.  'Die  heilige  Schrift  ist  ent- 
standen  dui'ch  Inspiration  des  heiligen  Geistes, 
stammt  also  von  Gott  selbst  ab,  der  in  ihr  redet.' 
This  statement  of  Weber's  (Lehrcn  d.  Ta/mnd,  p. 
78)  is  amply  justified  by  the  passages  he  cites,  as, 
e.g.,  '  He  who  affirms  that  the  Thora  is  not  from 
heaven,  has  no  part  in  the  future  world'  (Sanh'x/. 
X.  1).  Bousset  {Die  Belijjion  d.  Judcntums,  p.  125) 
reaches  the  same  conclusion  :  '  Die  heiligen  Schrif  t- 
en  sind  naoh  spatjiidLschem  Dogma  inspiriert.' 

This  belief  in  the  inspiration  of  the  OT  was  the 
natural  and  inevitable  result  of  the  phenomena  it 
l>resented  ;  and  was  not,  as  has  sometimes  been 
suggested,  the  mere  reflexion  of  the  vague  idea 
tliat  all  ancient  writings,  especially  if  poetical, 
were  inspired.*  Moses  is  represented  as  speaking 
face  to  face  with  God  and  as  receiving  the  Law 
from  Him.  The  prophets  demand  attention  to 
their  words  by  prefacing  them  with  the  announce- 
ment, 'Thus  saith  the  Lord.'  In  Ex  4"'-'-,  Is 
59=',  Jer  I'""  tlie  equipment  of  the  prophet  is  de- 
scribed by  the  expression,  '  I  have  put  my  words 
in  thy  mouth.'  From  these  two  phenomena  it  was 
•  Cf.  Hatch,  UibhcH  Led.  p.  51. 


a  necessary  inference  that  at  any  rate  the  Law  and 
the  Prophets  were  inspired.  Prof.  Sandajr  (Insp. 
p.  128)  justlj'  remarks  that  '  the  prophetic  inspira- 
tion seems  to  be  a  type  of  all  inspiration.  It  is 
perhaps  the  one  mode  in  wliich  the  most  distinctive 
features  of  Biblical  inspiration  can  be  most  clearly 
recognized.'  It  must,  however,  also  be  borne  in 
mind  that  among  the  Jews  themselves  it  was  the 
Law,  rather  than  the  Prophets,  Avhich  satisfied, 
and  perhaps  suggested,  their  idea  of  inspiration. 
Latterly  they  went  so  far  as  to  say  that,  had  the 
Law  found  in  Israel  recipients  wortliy  of  it,  nothing 
beyond  would  have  been  required.  Tlie  Law  itself 
was  a  perfect  and  complete  revelation,  and  neither 
Propliets  nor  Hagiographa  were  indispensable  (see 
passages  in  Weber,  Lehrcn  d.  Talni.  p.  79).  The 
response  of  conscience  to  the  Law  confirmed  the 
traditional  accounts  of  its  origin,  and  the  belief 
in  its  inspiration  was  inevitable.  Possibly  it  was 
the  belief  that  the  whole  OT  was  normative  that 
prompted  the  usage  by  which  even  the  Prophets 
and  tlie  Psalms  were  cited  in  the  NT  as  '  the  Law  ' 
(see  Jn  15^  10»*,  1  Co  14=i,  Ro  S'^). 

The  inspiration  of  the  NT  stands  on  a  somewliat 
different  footing.  The  supreme  instance  of  inspira- 
tion is  our  Lord  Himself  (Lk  4"'=') ;  and  He  is  also 
its  source  to  His  followers.  At  His  Baptism,  Jesus 
was  formally  called  to,  and  equipped  for,  His 
ministry;  and  His  equipment  consisted  in  His 
receiving  the  fulness  of  the  Holy  Spirit.  Undei' 
the  influence  of  this  Spirit  all  His  works  were  done 
and  all  His  words  spoken.  '  He  whom  God  hath 
sent  speaketh  the  words  of  God,  for  he  giveth  not 
the  Spirit  by  measure '  (Jn  3^) ;  '  My  teaching  is 
not  mine,  but  his  that  sent  nie '  (7'*) ;  '  as  the 
Father  hath  taught  me,  I  speak  the.se  things '  (8^). 
And  it  is  His  words,  spoken  under  the  influence  of 
the  Divine  Spirit,  that  form  the  nucleus  of  the  NT 
Canon.  They  were  the  first  portion  of  that  Canon 
to  be  recognized  as  authoritative,  and  however 
difficult  certain  writings  found  it  to  gain  access  to 
the  Canon,  the  words  of  our  Lord  were  from  the 
first,  and  universally,  regarded  as  Divine  by  all 
Christians. 

But  those  whom  He  appointed  to  be  His  wit- 
nesses and  to  explain  to  the  world  the  significance 
of  His  manifestation,  required  above  all  else  tlie 
inspiration  of  the  Author  of  salvation.  Tliis  was 
emphatically  and  reiteratedly  promised  to  them. 
The  presence  of  the  Divine  Spirit  was  promised 
not  only  to  prompt  and  support  them  on  critical 
occasions,  as  when  tliey  were  summoned  before 
magistrates  (Mk  13",  Mt  10»,  Lk  12"),  but  as  tlie 
Spirit  of  truth  He  was  promised  as  the  vei-y  substi- 
tute of  Christ  Himself :  '  He  sliall  teach  you  all 
things,  and  bring  to  your  remembrance  all  that  I 
said  unto  you'  (Jn  14*  16'').  This  promise  cannot 
be  understood  as  meant  to  assure  the  disciples 
that  they  would  be  able  to  recall  every  word  their 
Lord  had  said  ;  as  little  as  this  assurance  is  con- 
veyed to  all  Christians  by  the  words  of  St.  John 
(1  Jn  2=0,  'His  anointing  teacheth  you  concerning 
all  things.'  At  the  same  time  it  was  meant  to 
encourage  them  to  believe  that  their  sympathy 
with  their  Lord  and  their  acceptance  of  His  Spirit 
would  give  them  a  sufficient  remembrance  and 
understanding  of  His  teaching. 

That  this  promise  was  fiiUilliil  i-  cTtain.  The 
relation  of  the  risen  Lord  t^^  Hi-  I'hurch,  His 
presence  with  those  who  nin  -i  nt.  J  Him,  and  tlie 
aid  He  attbrded  them  in  .ici  ..iiiiili>liiiig  His  pur- 
poses, compel  the  conclusion  that  His  Spirit  dwelt 
in  those  who  taught  and  built  up  the  Church  by 
word  and  letter.  Those  who  preached  the  gospel 
discharged  their  function  'with  the  Holy  Ghost 
sent  down  from  heaven'  (1  P  1'=).  Of  this  the 
outpouring  of  the  Spirit  at  Pentecost  was  the 
earnest.     In  guiding  the  Church  the  aid  of  this 


INSPIRATION 


INSPIRATION 


833 


Spirit  was  experienced  (Ac  13-  15""  etc.).  In  writ- 
ing to  the  Galatians,  St.  Paul  claims  to  have  been 
instructed  by  the  Lord  in  the  gospel  he  preached. 
In  2  Co  IS''  he  is  prepared  to  give  'a  proof  of 
Christ  that  speaketh  in  me.'  And  even  in  less 
essential  matters  regarding  which  he  can  claim  no 
definite  instructions  or  revelation,  he  yet  in  the 
exercise  of  his  own  judgment  believes  himself  to 
be  guided  by  the  Spirit  of  God  (1  Co  V).  In  his 
enumeration  of  tlie  various  manifestations  of  the 
Spirit,  tlie  writing  of  sacred  books,  it  is  true,  finds 
no  place,  neither  do  the  writers  of  the  Gospels 
claim  to  be  inspired.  But  '  the  word  of  wisdom,' 
'  the  word  of  knowledge,'  the  charism  of  '  the 
prophet  and  the  teaeiier,  may  quite  reasonably, 
if  not  even  necessarily,  be  supposed  to  include 
written  as  well  as  spoken  discourse. 

2.  The  significance  of  the  claim  to  be 
inspired,  ok  the  meaning  and  effects  of 
INSPIRATION. — Several  opinions  or  theories  pre- 
sent themselves.  And  in  determining  which  of 
these  is  correct,  we  must  be  guided  not  by  a  priori 
ideas  of  the  results  wliich  must  flow  from  inspira- 
tion, but  only  by  the  phenomena  presented  in  the 
Bible ;  in  other  words,  by  the  actual  effects  of 
inspiration  as  these  are  seen  in  the  writings  of 
inspired  men.  '  What  inspiration  is  must  be 
learned  from  what  it  does.  .  .  .  We  must  not 
determine  the  character  of  the  books  from  the 
inspiration,  but  must  rather  determine  the  nature 
of  the  inspiration  from  tlie  books '  (Bowne's 
Christian  Bcvelntion,  p.  45). 

(\)  The  'mechanical  or  'dictation'  theory,  or 
theory  of  verbal  inspiration. — This  is  the  theoiy 
that  in  writing  the  books  of  Scripture  the  human 
author  was  merely  the  mouthpiece  of  the  Divine, 
and  that  therefore  every  word  in  the  Bible  as 
truly  represents  the  mind  of  God  as  if  He  had 
dictated  it.  '  Facts,  doctrines,  precepts,  references 
to  history  or  chronology,  quotations  from  writers 
sacred  or  profane,  allusions  to  scientific  truth, 
visions  or  prophetic  declarations,  mere  references 
to  the  most  ordinary  actions  of  life,  according  to 
this  view,  are  not  the  work  of  man  but  of  Om- 
niscience. The  only  use  which  has  been  made  of 
human  agency  in  the  book  has  been  to  copy  do\vn 
with  pen,  ink,  and  paper  what  has  been  dictated 
by  the  Divine  Spirit.'  Absolute  inerrancy  is  on 
this  theory  presumed  to  be  the  accompaniment  of 
inspiration.  As  one  of  its  defenders  says :  '  God 
employed  men  in  writing.  But  these  men  were  so 
controlled  Ijy  llim,  that  He  is  the  Author  of  the 
\.t'\V.  tin;  Author,  that  any  charge  of 

inac<  u  list   the   record,   or  Scripture,   as 

origi7...,  ,  _  must  be  preferred  against  Him' 

(Kennedy,  I  A.  Doctrine  of  Insp.  1878,  p.  6).  To 
use  the  comnuin  way  of  putting  it,  the  writers 
were  'the  pens,  not  the  penmen'  of  God.  They 
were  possessed  by  God,  so  that  it  was  not  so  much 
their  own  mind  and  their  own  experience,  but  the 
mind  of  God  tliat  was  represented  in  their  writ- 
ings.* 

This  theory  has  all  the  prestige  which  antiquity 
can  give  it,  for  it  runs  back  to  those  primitive 
stages  of  civilization  in  which  possession  by  a  deity 
was  produced  by  inhaling  fumes,  or  by  violent 
dancings  and  contortions.  This  frenzied  state 
being  induced,  the  words  spoken  were  believed  to 
be  Divine.    The  theoiy  has  also  the  prestige  which 

**Omnea  et  singula  resqnn^  in  S'  S'-vi]iftir,T  ''nntinentur,  sive 

iUa)  f  uerint  S.  Scriptoribus  nrd  1 1 1    :  :    t  m mi  >  .  si\t*  naturnliter 

quidem  cogniscibiles,  actu  (:iii:  .\r  denique  non 

tantum  natxiralitercogniscil.ll  ■;  ii'so  nota),  vel 

aliunde,  vel  per  ex]ierienti;iiii,  .  t  ^>  n  mmi  ininiyterium,  non 
solum  per  assirtentiam  et  diniu.ij.ciu  duinaiii  infallibilem 
literis  consignat:e  sunt,  sed  singulari  Spiritus  S,  suggestioni, 
inspiratiojii,  et.  diftamini  aoceptae  fercndaj  sunt'  (Quenstedt, 
'"'~''  """'^   -*'^r  similar  dicta,  in  Butterus  Jiedivivus,  s.v. 


VOL. 


-53 


IS  conferred  by  the  advocacy  of  great  names.  Plato 
countenanced  the  idea  that  the  inspired  man  is  so 
possessed  by  the  Divine  that  his  words  and  thoughts 
are  not  his  own.  In  the  Timceus  (p.  71)  and  in  the 
Phmclrus  (p.  244)  he  maintains  tliat  when  a  man 
receives  the  inspired  word,  either  his  intelligence 
is  enthralled  in  sleep,  or  he  is  demented  by  some 
distemper  or  possession.  The  relation  of  the 
Divine  to  the  human  is  viewed  quantitatively. 
As  the  Divine  comes  in,  the  human  must  go  out 
and  make  room  for  it.  It  was  probably  through 
Pliilo  that  this  view  gained  currency  in  the  Church. 
Philo's  account  of  Inspiration  is  quite  explicit.  'A 
prophet,'  he  says,  '  gives  forth  nothing  of  his  o^vn, 
but  acts  as  interpreter  at  the  prompting  of  another 
in  all  his  utterances ;  and  as  long  as  he  is  under 
inspiration  he  is  in  ignorance,  his  reason  departing 
from  its  place  and  yielding  up  the  citadel  of  his  soul, 
when  the  Divine  Spirit  enters  into  it  and  dwells 
in  it,  and  strikes  at  the  mechanism  of  his  voice, 
sounding  through  it  to  the  clear  declaration  of 
that  which  he  prophesieth'  {de  Sp.  Legg.  ii.  343, 
quoted  in  Sanday's  Insp.  p.  74).  Again  (in  the 
tract  Quis  rer.  div.  i.  511)  Philo  explains  that  '  so 
long  as  we  are  masters  of  ourselves  we  are  not 
possessed  ;  but  when  our  own  mind  ceases  to  shine, 
inspiration  and  madness  lay  hold  on  us.  For  the 
understanding  that  dwells  in  us  is  ousted  on  the 
arrival  of  the  Divine  Spirit,  but  is  restored  to  its 
own  dwelling  when  that  Spirit  departs ;  for  it  is 
unlawful  that  mortal  dwell  with  immortal.'  A 
theory  identical  with  or  similar  to  this  of  Philo's 
has  been  largely  held  in  the  Church. 

There  are  also  expressions  in  the  NT  which 
seem,  at  first  sight,  to  countenance  such  a  theory. 
In  Mt  5'^  our  Lord  is  reported  as  saying :  '  Till 
heaven  and  earth  pass  away,  one  jot  or  one  tittle 
shall  in  nowise  pass  from  the  law,  till  all  things  be 
accomplished.'  But,  as  the  context  shows,  that 
which  our  Lord  intimates  in  these  words  is  that  it 
was  in  Himself  the  Law  and  the  Prophets  were  to 
find  their  fulfilment.  Immediately  upon  giving 
utterance  to  this  saying  He  Himself  proceeds  to 
repeal  commandments  of  the  Law,  substituting  for 
them  His  own  better  principles,  and  thus  showing 
that  what  He  had  in  view  was  not  Scripture  as 
Scripture.  Another  passage  which  to  the  super- 
ficial reader  might  seem  to  countenance  this  theory 
is  that  in  which  St.  Paul  contrasts  the  wisdom  of 
God  with  the  wisdom  of  men  (1  Co  2'-i«).  After 
speaking  of  the  things  revealed  by  the  Spirit  of 
God,  he  says,  '  which  things  we  also  speak,  not  in 
words  which  man's  wisdom  teacheth,  but  which  the 
Spirit  teacheth '  (v.^^).  But  a  consideration  of  the 
passage  makes  it  apparent  that  what  he  means  is 
that  he  had  arrived  at  the  conclusion  that  his  style 
of  address  should  be  in  keeping  with  his  subject, 
and  that  '  the  mystery  of  God '  did  not  require  the 
garnishing  of  meretricious  ornament  or  anything 
which  the  world  might  esteem  as  'excellency  of 
wisdom,'  but  such  simplicity  and  directness  as  the 
Holy  Spirit  prompted.  He  is  contrasting  two 
metliods,  two  styles,  the  worldly  and  the  spiritual, 
and  he  is  justifying  tlie  style  he  himself  adopted. 
To  conclude  from  this  that  St.  Paul  considered 
that  every  word  he  spoke  was  dictated  by  infallible 
wisdom  is  quite  illegitimate. 

This  mechanical  theory  is  beset  by  grave  diffi- 
culties, (rt)  Inspiration  and  dictation  are,  as  has 
more  than  once  been  pointed  out,  two  different, 
even  mutually  exclusive,  operations.  Dictation 
precludes  inspiration,  leaving  no  room  for  any 
spiritual  influence.  Inspiration  precludes  dicta- 
tion, making  the  prompting  of  words  unnecessary 
by  the  communication  of  the  right  spirit. 

(b)  It  is  irreconcilable  with  the  phenomena  pre- 
sented in  Scripture.  The  authors,  instead  of  being 
passive  recipients  of  information  and  ideas  and 


834 


INSPIEATION 


INSPIRATION 


feelings,  represent  themselves  as  active,  deliberat- 
ing, laborious,  intensely  interested.  The  material 
used  by  the  historical  writers  has  been  derived 
from  written  sources,  or,  as  in  the  case  of  the 
Third  Gospel,  from  careful  critical  inquiry  at  the 
most  reliable  witnesses.  They  do  not  tell  us  that 
their  knowledge  of  events  had  been  supernaturally 
imparted,  but  either  that  they  themselves  had 
seen  what  they  relate,  or  that  they  had  it  from 
trustworthy  sources.  The  A])Ostles  were  inspired 
witnesses  of  Christ,  and  proclaimed  what  they  had 
seen  and  heard.  But  if  supernatural  information 
was  even  more  trustworthy,  why  should  they  have 
been  chosen  only  from  those  who  had  been  with 
our  Lord  during  His  ministry?  'If  they  did  not 
really  remember  those  facts  or  discourses  when 
they  asserted  their  reality,  they  are  found  false 
witnesses  of  God.  If  they  were  the  mere  dictation 
of  the  Spirit  to  their  minds,  St.  Peter's  declaration 
which  he  made  to  the  Jewish  Council,  "  AVe  cannot 
but  speak  the  things  which  we  have  seen  and 
heard,"  would  have  to  be  corrected  into,  "We 
cannot  but  speak  the  things  which  the  Spirit  has 
introduced  into  our  minds'"  (Row,  Itisp.  p.  154). 
Similarly,  if  the  intense  emotions  expressed  in  the 
Psalms  or  in  the  Epp.  of  St.  Paul  are  not  the  out- 
pouring of  human  sorrow  and  human  experience, 
they  at  once  become  artificial  and  false.  When 
St.  Paul  in  2  Co  11"  says,  'That  which  I  speak,  I 
s]ieak  not  after  the  Lord,  but  as  in  foolishness,  in 
tliis  confidence  of  boasting,'  it  is  intelligible  to  say 
that  an  inspired  man  is  speaking,  it  is  not  in- 
tellijjible  to  say  that  this  is  God  speaking.  The 
mind  of  God  is  discernible  through  the  words,  but 
it  is  not  the  mind  of  God  we  are  directly  in  con- 
tact with. 

(c)  Another  class  of  phenomena  presented  by 
Scripture  is  inconsistent  with  this  theoiy.  For  if 
God  be  the  sole  Author,  then  it  is  impossible  to 
account  for  errors  in  grammar,  imperfections  of 
style,  discrepancies  between  one  part  and  another. 
But  such  errors,  imperfections,  and  discrepancies 
exist.  The  sayings  of  our  Lord  are  variously  re- 
]iorted  in  the  several  Gospels.  Even  in  reporting 
the  Lord's  Prayer  the  Evangelists  differ.  It  is 
impossible  to  remove  from  the  Book  of  Acts  all 
disagreement  with  the  Pauline  Epistles.  And  in 
the  disagreement  between  Peter  and  Paul  at 
Antioch,  we  see  how  possible  it  was  that  men 
equally  inspired  should  hold  divergent  and  even 
antagonistic  opinions  upon  matters  essential  to  the 
well-being  of  the  Church.  In  the  face  of  these 
discrepancies,  it  is  impossible  to  suppose  that  in- 
spiration carries  with  it  literal  accuracj'  of  ex- 
pression. 

(rf)  The  manner  in  which  the  KT  writers  quote 
the  OT  books  proves  that  while  they  believed 
these  books  to  be  authoritative  and  their  writers 
inspired,  they  did  not  consider  that  their  ins])ira- 
tion  rendered  every  word  they  uttered  infallible. 
Taking  275  quotations  from  the  OT  in  the  NT, 
it  has  been  found  that  there  are  only  5,3  in 
which  the  Hebrew,  the  LXX,  and  the  NT  writer 
agree:  while  there  are  99  passages  in  which 
the  NT  quotation  differs  both  from  the  Hebrew 
and  from  the  LXX,  which  also  differ  from  one 
another,  and  76  in  which  the  correct  rendering  of 
file  LXX  has  been  enoneously  altered.*  No  doubt 
when  the  correct  citation  of  a  single  word  serves 
the  writer's  puriiose,  as  in  the  insistence  by  St. 
Paul  on  the  singular  instead  of  the  plural  (Gal ,"'"), 
there  stress  is  laid  upon  the  very  word  ;  but  in  the 
face  of  the  general  style  of  quotation  above  indi- 
_  'These  statistics  are  taken  from  D.  M'Calman  Turpie's  OT 
in  r/i'-  N /',  1  -  •      '11.;  Ill   I..  .,iiMtation3  than  those 

heie  ^  '  t  the  whole.     A  full 

list  ■  1  ■  \\  estcott  and  Hon's 

Oi"     ■  ,  ;   ,  1  .I'iis  r.  in  Aoco  gives 


cated,  it  is  impossible  to  believe  that  inspiration 
was  supposed  to  make  each  word  infallible. 

(2)  To  escape  the  psychological  and  other  diffi- 
culties of  a  mechanical,  verbal  inspiration,  other 
theories  have  been  devised.  Observing  the  different 
values  of  the  various  books  of  Scripture,  the  Jews 
themselves  supposed  that  there  were  three  degrees 
of  itisjnration  corresponding  to  the  tripartite  divi- 
sion of  the  OT.  Attempts  were  made  by  the 
Rabbis,  by  the  schoolmen,  and  by  some  modern 
writers  to  differentiate  between  suggestion,  direc- 
tion, superintendence,  and  elevation.  Thus  Bishop 
Daniel  Wilson  {Evidences  of  Christianity,  i.  506, 
quoted  by  Lee)  defines  as  follows :  '  By  the  inspira- 
tion of  s^iggestion  is  meant  such  communication  of 
tlie  Holy  Spirit  as  suggested  and  dictated  minutely 
every  part  of  the  truths  delivered.  The  inspiration 
of  direction  is  meant  of  such  assistance  as  left  the 
writers  to  describe  the  matter  revealed  in  their 
own  way,  directing  only  the  mind  in  the  exercise 
of  its  powers.  The  inspiration  of  elevation  added 
a  greater  strength  and  vigour  to  the  efforts  of  the 
mind  than  the  writers  could  otherwise  have 
attained.  The  inspiration  of  superintendency  was 
that  watchful  care  which  preserved  generally  from 
anything  being  put  down  derogatory  to  the  Reve- 
lation with  which  it  was  connected.'  Obviously 
this  theory  is  very  open  to  criticism.  That  there 
are  different  degrees  of  inspiration  is  true,  but  it 
is  very  questionable  whether  any  such  classifica- 
tion is  complete.  In  this  theory  there  are  hints  of 
truth,  but  not  the  whole  truth. 

(3)  The  so-called  dynamical  theory  brings  us 
somewhat  nearer  the  truth,  though  it  too  falls 
short.  This  theory  is  a  reaction  against  the  me- 
chanical, and  affirms  that  the  human  qualities  of 
the  -HTiters  are  not  superseded,  but  are  cleansed, 
strengthened,  and  employed  by  the  Divine  Author. 
'  The  Divine  influence  acted  upon  man's  faculties 
in  accordance  with  their  natural  laws '  ;  classical 
expression  is  given  to  this  theory  in  the  words  of 
Augustine  (in  Joan.  1.  i.  1),  '  inspiratus  a  Deo,  sed 
tamen  homo.'  The  Divine  Agent  .selects  suitable 
media  for  His  communications,  and  does  not  try 
'  to  play  lyre-music  on  flutes,  and  harp-music  on 
trumpets.'  The  imperfections  and  weaknesses 
found  in  Scripture  are  human,  the  truths  uttered 
are  Divine.  The  theory  in  its  most  acceptable 
form,  and  as  held  by  Erasmus,  Grotius,  Baxter, 
Paley,  and  many  modern  writers,  suggests  that 
the  Biblical  writers  were  so  inspired  as  to  secure 
accuracy  in  all  matters  of  cdinlnct  ,aiu:  .loctrine, 
while  it  declines  to  ple(lj;e  its,  If  t(.  t  ■  |ierfect 
accuracy  in  non-essentials(Pi- suli-i.liiii;  iticulars. 
Hence  it  is  sometimes  calleil  the  '  i~sc  j  , ,,,!    theory. 

This  theory,  while  it  endeavours  Im  recognize 
the  facts  of  Scripture  and  to  accou"J:  f or  t  hem,  yet 
fails  to  give  us  an  understanding  w. inspiration. 
It  does  not  explain,  or  even  attempt  to  explain, 
how  writers  should  be  possessed  of  supernatural 
knowledge  while  inditing  one  sentence,  and  in  the 
next  be  dropped  to  a  lower  level.  It  fails  to  give 
us  the  psychology  of  that  state  of  mind  which  can 
infallibly  pronounce  on  matters  of  doctrine  while 
it  is  astray  on  the  often  simpler  facts  of  history. 
It  makes  no  attempt  to  anal}-ze  the  relation  SUD- 
sisting  between  the  Divine  mind  and  the  human 
which  produces  such  results.  Nor  does  it  explain 
how  we  are  to  distinguish  essentials  from  non- 
essentials, or  disentangle  the  one  from  the  other. 

(4)  Constructively  we  may  make  the  following 
affirmations  regarding  Inspiration,  derived  from 
the  facts  presented  in  the  Bible : 

(a)  It  is  the  men,  not  directly  the  writings,  that 
were  inspired.  '  Men  spake  from  God,  being 
moved  by  the  Holy  Ghost '  (2  P  1-').  Inspiration 
does  not  mean  that  one  inspired  thought  is  magic- 
ally communicated  to  a  man  in  the  form  in  which 


INSUERECTION 


INTERCESSION 


835 


he  is  to  declare  it  to  liis  fellows,  and  in  no  con- 
nexion with  the  previous  contents  and  norniul 
action  of  his  mind.  As  he  sits  down  to  write,  hi- 
continues  in  that  state  of  mind  and  si)irit  in  which 
he  has  been  living  and  to  which  the  Spirit  of  Vuid 
has  brought  him.  The  book  he  produces  is  not 
the  abnormal,  exceptional  product  of  a  unique 
condition  of  nund  and  spirit,  but  is  the  natural 
and  spontaneous  outflow  from  the  previous  experi- 
ence and  thought  of  the  writer.  All  his  past 
training  and  knowledge,  all  his  past  strivings 
to  yield  himself  wholly  to  the  Spirit  of  Christ, 
enter  into  what  he  now  produces. 

(b)  When  we  say  that  a  writer  of  Scripture  is 
Divinely  inspired,  we  mean  that  as  he  writes  he  is 
■under  the  influence  of  the  Holy  Spirit.  All  Chris- 
tians possess  this  same  Spirit,  and  are  by  Him 
being  led  into  a  full  knowledge  of  the  truth  that 
is  in  Christ,  to  a  full  perception  of  that  whole 
revelation  of  God  which  is  made  in  Christ ;  and 
when  some  of  their  number  are  characterized  as 
inspired,  this  means  that  such  persons  are  dis- 
tinguished above  their  fellow  -  Christians  by  a 
special  readiness  and  capacity  to  perceive  the 
meaning  of  Christ  as  the  revelation  of  God  and 
to  make  known  what  they  see. 

(c)  Inspiration  is  primarily  a  spiritual  gift, 
and  only  secondarily  a  mental  one.  The  Spirit 
of  God  may  dwell  richly  in  a  man  and  yet  not 
render  him  infallible  even  in  matters  of  religion. 
In  1  Th  4"  St.  Paul  speaks  of  his  converts  as  OcoSi- 
SaKToi,  but  to  one  end,  and  that  a  spiritual  not  a 
mental  end.  Our  Lord  (Jn  6^*)  apjilies  to  all  those 
who  come  to  Him  in  Spirit  the  prophetic  words, 
'  They  shall  be  all  taught  of  God,'  but  no  one  can 
suppose  that  this  involves  infallible  knowledge. 
It  cannot  be  summarily  argued  that  because  God 
dwells  in  a  man,  all  that  the  man  speaks  partakes 
of  the  Divine  omniscience.  Inspiration  operates 
as  any  newborn  passion,  such  as  maternal  love, 
operates.  It  does  not  lift  the  person  out  of  all 
limitations,  but  it  seizes  upon  and  uses  all  the 
faculties,  elevating,  refining,  and  directing  to  one 
purpose.  It  illuminates  the  mind  as  enthusiasm 
does,  by  stimulating  and  elevating  it ;  it  enriches 
the  memory  as  love  does,  by  intensifying  the 
interest  in  a  certain  object,  and  by  making  the 
mind  sensitive  to  its  imjiressions  and  retentive  of 
them.  It  brings  light  to  the  understanding  and 
wisdom  to  the  spirit,  as  purity  of  intention  or  a 
high  aim  in  life  does.  It  brings  a  man  into  sym- 
pathy with  the  nature  and  purposes  of  God,  en- 
ables him  to  see  God  where  others  do  not  see  Him, 
and  to  interpret  His  revelations  in  the  same  Spirit 
in  which  they  are  given. 


'Prim 

Doctrine  of  Ii-Lp.' ;  in  Hagenbach's  Hist,  of  Doctrine ;  and  in 
Sanday's  Bampton  Lectures.  Lutheran  teaching  is  represented 
and  traced  in  Huitertts  Jtcdivivus,  and  Anglican  in  Fitzjames 
Stephens'  Defence  of  the  Bev.  Rowland  WUliams  (1862).— From 
the  mass  of  literature  one  or  two  representative  booI<B  may  be 
named:  The  Imp.  of  Holy  Scrip.,  by  WUliam  Lee,  185-1;  The 
Nature  and  Extent  of  Divine  Insp.,  by  Rev.  C.  A.  Row,  M.A., 
1864 ;  Plenary  Insp.  of  Holy  Scrip.,  by  Gaussen ;  Itisp.  and 
the  Bible,  by  R.  F.  Horton ;  A  Tenable  Theory  of  Insp.,  by 
Professor  Wood ;  ct.  also  the  present  writer's  The  Bible :  its 
Origin  and  Hature.  Schleiermacher's  interesting  statement  of 
his  views  occurs  in  Der  christliche  Glaube,  iv.  §§  12S-13'2.  Weiss 
gives  an  excellent  specimen  of  moderate  opinion  in  Die  Religion 

d.  NT,  p.  31  ff.  Marcus  Dods. 

INSURRECTION  {a-rdais,  Mk  15',  and  Lk  2S^^-  == 
w^here  AV  gives  'sedition')  is  defined  by  Plato 
{Rep.  V.  470 B)  thus:  ^irl  yap  tj  toO  oUelov  Ix^pc/i 
ffrdffi!  KeKKrjTai,  iirl  di  tJ  tQv  aWorpiuv  irdXc/ios.  Its 
use  in  these  passages  is  important  as  showing  that 
Barabbas  was  not  merely  a  robber  (Xt/ctt^s,  Jn  IS'*"), 
b)it  also  a  leader  in  one  of  those  fierce  fanatical 
outbursts  which  were  so  common  in  the  last  years 
of  the  Jewish  nation,  especially  from  the 


of  Herod.  Josephus  tells  of  notable  leaders  such 
as  Ezekias,  his  son  Judas,  and  his  four  grandsons, 
:ill  of  whom  were  put  to  death  {Ant.  xiv.  ix.  2, 
x\il.  X.  5,  XVIII.  i.  1;  BJ  II.  iv.  1,  viii.  1,  xiii.  5, 
etc.  ;  cf.  Ac  5^"'-  2P").  Josephus  in  his  account 
of  tlie  final  troubles  uses  fjjXwr^s  and  Xtjo-t^s 
almost  as  convertible  terms.  Nothing  further  is 
known  of  this  particular  o-Ttto-is,  unless,  as  Ewald 
(HI  vi.  67  f.)  suggests,  it  may  have  arisen  on 
account  of  the  aqueduct  which  Pilate  had  built 
with  money  taken  from  the  Temple  treasury 
(Josephus,  BJ  II.  ix.  4;  cf.  Lk  13*).  Barabbas 
may  have  been  moved  by  patriotic  ideas  at  the 
first,  becoming  an  outlaw  and  notorious  robber 
when  his  rising  was  suppressed ;  oi  he  may  have 
used  aspirations  after  freedom  merely  as  a  cloak 
for  brigandage  (see  Westcott,  Some  Lessons  of  the 
Revised  Version  of  the  NT,  p.  74  f.).*  He  was 
'lying  bound  with  them  that  had  made  insur- 
rection' {aTaaiaarCiv,  v.l.  <TvaTa<7LaaTC>v,  Mk  15'), 
including  probably  the  two  robbers  who  were 
crucified ;  for  him  the  third  cross  may  have  been 
intended.  Such  men  had  a  deep  hold  on  the 
popular  sympathy,  which  goes  to  explain  the 
strong  demand  of  the  people  for  the  release  of  their 
hero,  and  the  interest  which  the  priests  showed  on 
behalf  of  Barabbas,  notwithstanding  their  pretence 
to  holiness.  But  the  hollowness  of  their  new- 
found zeal  for  Caesar  was  thereby  exposed,  seeing 
that  Barabbas  was  admittedly  guilty  of  the  crime 
which  they  alleged  against  Jesus.  See,  further, 
Barabbas. 

Literature.— Edersheim,  Lifeand  Timesof  Jesus  the  Messiah, 
ii.  670  fF. ;  Trench,  Studies  in  the  Gospels  (No.  15). 

W.    H.   DUNDAS. 

INTERCESSION  (the  act  of  one  who  goes  be- 
tween) is  generally  taken  to  mean  that  part  of 
prayer  in  which  we  approach  God  on  behalf  of 
others.  The  corresponding  -svord  in  NT,  Ivrev^is, 
which  occurs  only  at  1  Ti  2'  4',  does  not  neces- 
sarily mean  what  we  now  understand  by  inter- 
cession, but  rather,  as  its  connexion  with  ifrvyxiyu 
implies,  drawing  close  to  God  in  free  and  familiar 
prayer  (see  Trench,  Syn.  p.  190,  -where,  however, 
it  is  added,  '  In  justice  to  our  translators  it  must 
be  observed  that  intercession  had  not  in  their  time 
that  limited  meaning  of  prayer  for  others  which 
we  now  ascribe  to  it'). 

Intercession  has  always  been  regarded  as  a  char- 
acteristic duty  and  privilege  of  believers  in  Christ. 
There  is  no  fact  or  aspect  of  prayer  more  dis- 
tinctive of  the  Christian  religion  than  this,  in 
which  the  Christian  heart,  rising  above  all  con- 
sideration of  self,  expands  with  a  Christ  -  like 
benevolent  desire  for  the  welfare  of  every  living 
soul,  and  prays  for  all  mankind.  Accordingly,  we 
find  that  from  the  beginning  intercession  has  been 
looked  upon  as  a  specific  and  characteristic  part 
of  the  vocation  of  the  Christian  Church  as  a  whole 
as  well  as  of  its  individual  members.  The  practice 
was  enjoined  by  Christ,  He  Himself  setting  the 
example  to  His  disciples.  As  prayer,  in  the  general 
sense  of  the  word,  is  essential  to  the  Christian 
life,  so  intercessory  prayer  has  always  been  looked 
upon  as  an  essential  part  of  Christian  prayer. 

Christ,  when  on  earth,  prayed  for  His  followers, 
and  still  continues  to  plead  for  them  beyond  the 
eil,  though  in  thinking  of  this  aspect  of  His 
intercession  it  is  a  mistake  to  confine  it  merely  to 
prayer.  This  has  been  admirably  and  convincingly 
pointed  out  by  Milligan  in  The  Ascension  and 
Heavenly  Priesthood  of  our  Lord  (pf).  149-153), 
and  though  this  aspect  of  Christ's  intercession 
belongs  to  a  subsequent  heading  (§  2  below),  yet, 
because  the  intercession  of  Christians  must  always 
be  based  upon  the  Lord's  intercession,  it  may  be 
*  There  is  no  reference  to  the  insurrection  in  the  Sin.  Svr. 
Gospels :  see  lira.  Lewis  in  Exp.  Times,  .\ii.  (1901),  pp.  118,  2'7L 


INTERCESSION 


INTERCESSION 


jn-eraised  here  that  in  the  intercessions  we  offer  to 
God  the  idea  is  wider  than  mere  petition  on  belialf 
of  others.  '  Intercession  and  giving  of  thanks ' 
are  to  be  made  for  all  men  (1  Ti  2').  It  is  a  com- 
monplace that  prayer  is  more  than  mere  petition  ; 
and  so  even  in  prayer  on  belialf  of  others  mere 
asking  of  benefits  for  them  cannot  be  the  whole  of 
prayer.  Intercession,  then,  would  appear  to  em- 
brace thanksgiving  for  benefits  bestowed  on  others 
as  well  as  imploring  favours  for  them.  Further, 
intercession  also  seems  to  imply  that  in  praying 
for  others,  if  Sve  pray  sincerely,  we  place  ourselves 
with  our  means  and  our  energies  at  God's  disposal 
for  His  purposes  of  grace  towards  those  for  whom 
we  pray.  Intercession  thus  leads  up  to  and  neces- 
sitates self-dedication.  In  proceeding  now  to  ex- 
amine our  Lord's  teaching,  we  note  : 

1.  The  duty  of  intercession. — The  duty  of  inter- 
cession is  explicitly  and  frequently  taught  by 
Christ  in  the  Gospels.  It  has  often  been  remarked 
about  His  teaching  as  to  prayer  that  He  seldom, 
if  ever,  gives  a  direct  command  to  His  followers  to 
pray,  but,  taking  it  for  granted  that  they  do  pray 
and  do  not  need  to  be  told  to  pray.  He  simply 
gives  them  directions  how  to  pray,  and  shows 
them  what  are  the  essential  elements,  character- 
istics, and  conditions  of  prayer  {cf.  e.g.  Mt  6^-  *, 
Mk  11^-  -\  Lk  18>). 

It  hardly  needs  to  be  remarked  that  the  Chris- 
tian religion,  being  a  social  religion,  implies  that 
prayer  on  behalf  of  others  is  an  essential  and  dis- 
tinguishing element  in  its  devotions.  It  would 
have  been  surprising  if  Christ  had  not  taught  the 
duty  of  intercession.  This,  of  course,  must  not  be 
taken  as  meaning  that  He  taught  it  for  the  first 
time.  Under  the  OT  dispensation  God's  people 
were  admitted  to  the  privilege  of  intercession,  and 
their  prayers  for  others  were  availing.  In  par- 
ticular, '  the  prophets  were  intercessors  in  virtue  of 
their  calling.  'The  ground  of  this  was  twofold. 
■The  prophet  was  an  acceptable  person ;  but,  further, 
he  had  the  Spirit,  and  the  possession  of  it  enabled 
him  not  only  to  interpret  the  mind  of  God  to  man, 
but  also  the  mind  of  man  to  God'  (Bernard  in 
Hastings'  DB,  vol.  iv.  p.  40'').  But  in  the  Gospels 
we  might  have  expected  to  find,  as  we  do  find, 
that  the  duty  and  privilege  of  intercession  is  ad- 
vanced and  developed.  In  Christ's  teaching,  inter- 
cession takes  a  wider  range  and  a  higher  view 
than  under  the  OT  dispensation,  for  no  section  of 
mankind  is  excluded  from  the  scope  of  His  redemp- 
tion. Jewish  prayers,  even  of  intercession,  had 
been  ottered  to  '  the  Lord  God  of  Israel '  or  '  the 
God  of  our  Fathers,'  but  in  our  Lord's  pattern 
prayer,  as  well  as  throughout  His  teaching,  every 
human  being  is  invited  to  call  upon  God  as  his 
Father,  and  in  so  doing  to  regard  all  mankind  as 
his  brethren.  'When  His  disciples  ask  to  be 
taught  to  pray,  He  gives  them  a  prayer  very 
unlike  what  John  would  have  given,  for  it  con- 
tains not  a  word  of  that  petition  for  blessing  upon 
Israel  which,  in  any  prayer  that  an  Israelite 
ottered,  contained,  to  his  mind,  the  gist  of  the 
whole'  (Latham,  Pastor  Pastorum,  i>.  416). 

The  Incarnation  has  furnished  a  new  motive 
and  a  new  power  for  intercession.  The  man  who 
is  in  Christ  is  no  longer  an  isolated  unit :  he  is  a 
member  of  the  Body  of  Christ,  and  therefore  prays 
for  all  mankind  as  Christ  did ;  for,  knowing  that 
God  has  loved  him  in  Christ,  he  loves  others  for 
wliom  as  for  himself  Christ  came,  and  in  the  power 
of  that  love  he  prays  for  all  men  living. 

When  we  come  "to  our  Lord's  express  teaching 
as  to  intercession,  we  arc  at  once  arrested  by  the 
fact  that  in  the  Lord's  Prayer — given  to  the  dis- 
ciples in  response  to  their  request  to  be  taught 
how  to  pr.ay— intercession  not  only  holds  the  first 
place,  but  the  spirit  of  intercession  pervades  it  all. 


This  prayer,  which  is  the  peculiar  prayer  of  the 
Christian  believer,  the  use  of  which  marks  him 
out  from  all  others  (witness  the  fact  that  in  the 
early  Church  it  was  not  taught  to  the  catechumens 
till  they  were  competentes  and  on  the  eve  of  their 
baptism),  is  a  prayer  of  intei'cession.  'Our  Father, 
which  art  in  heaven,  hallowed  be  thy  name.  Thy 
kingdom  come.  Thy  will  be  done  on  earth  as  it  is 
in  heaven.'  Here  the  disciples  are  taught  to  pray 
that  all  mankind  may  be  brought  into  the  King- 
dom of  God,  that  they  may  reverence  His  name, 
that  they  may  learn  to  do  His  will  and  submit 
themselves  to  His  rule.  Here  all  limits  of  space 
and  time  are  transcended,  and  he  who  prays  the 
Lord's  Prayer  prays  for  all  mankind,  even  for  the 
generations  yet  unborn.  It  would  liardly,  there- 
fore, be  an  exaggeration  to  say  that  in  Christ's 
teaching  upon  prayer,  intercession  holds  the  first 
place.  This  is  in  keeping  with  the  whole  tenor  of 
His  teaching  and  with  the  genius  of  His  religion, 
who  all  His  life  took  thought  for  others,  and 
whose  first  utterance  on  the  cross  was  a  prayer  for 
His  murdereis  (Lk  23*^).  Following  upon  this,  it 
is  noteworthy  that,  according  to  Lk  1  p->^  it  wag 
in  direct  sequence  to  and  by  way  of  commentary 
upon  the  Lord's  Prayer  that  Christ  spoke  the 
parable  of  the  Friend  at  Midnight,  in  which  He 
teaches  the  necessity  of  importunate  prayer,  the 
importunity  inculcated  being  the  importunity  ol 
one  for  his  friend.  Intercession,  therefore,  accord- 
ing to  Christ's  teaching,  is  not  only  to  be  ottered, 
but  it  is  to  be  ottered  with  importunity. 

2.  Christ's  personal  example. — Besides  His  great 
prayer  of  intercession  recorded  in  Jn  17,  the 
Gospels  afibrd  several  instances  of  our  Lord's  per- 
sonal example  in  intercession.  His  prayer  on  the 
eve  of  the  ordination  of  the  Twelve,  when  He  con- 
tinued all  night  in  prayer  (Lk  16'-'-),  was,  it  is 
highly  probable,  largely  occupied  with  intercession 
for  them.  He  prayed  for  St.  Peter  (2232)_  jjig 
first  word  from  the  cross  was  a  prayer  for  His 
enemies.  There  is  also  the  prayer  recorded  in  Mt 
ir-^"^,  and  His  prayer  at  the  grave  of  Lazarus 
(Jn  II'"'-),  both  of  which  are  intercessory. 

Christ  teaches  that,  as  He  is  the  Mediator  between 
God  and  man,  intercession  must  be  offered  through 
Him.  He  is  the  Intercessor,  and  our  intercessions 
can  avail  only  because  He  intercedes,  presenting 
our  prayers  to  the  Father.  He  prayed  for  His 
disciples  and  for  all  who  through  their  word  might 
believe,  and  now  He  prays  within  the  veil,  carry- 
ing forward  the  intercession  begun  on  earth.  This 
comes  out  clearly  in  His  'Intercessory  Prayer' 
(Jn  17),  or,  as  it  has  perhaps  been  more  fittingly 
designated.  His  '  High  Priestly  Prayer.'  Reading 
it  in  the  light  of  the  happily  correct  rendering  of 
KV,  we  see  that  He  is  speaking  as  if  He  had 
already  entered  into  the  glory,  and  w  ere  looking 
back  upon  His  earthly  course.  In  the  joy  of  His 
anticipated  triumph  He  presents  Himself  before 
the  Father  and  pleads  for  the  fulfilment  of  the 
Father's  will.  Christ's  intercession  for  mankind 
which  was  begun  on  earth  is  continued  in  heaven, 
and  our  prayers  for  others  are  presented  by  Him  in 
virtue  of  His  mediation.  At  the  same  time,  this 
prayer  attbrds  an  unfailing  guide  to  our  prayers 
of  intercession,  teaching  us  that  prayer  is  to  be 
ottered  for  the  ingathering  of  men  into  the  King- 
dom, for  the  unity  of  the  Church  of  God,  for  the 
perseverance  of  believers,  and  for  the  sanctifica- 
tion,  for  all  these  ends,  of  those  who  are  engaged 
in  the  Church's  work. 

3.  The  seope  of  intercession. — Our  Lord  is  careful 
to  tell  His  disciples  to  pray  for  their  enemies  (Mt 
5"),  and  in  so  doing  He  bids  them  remember  in 
prayer  those  whom  they  might  not  have  thought 
of  including,  assuming  that  they  would,  without 
being  specially  directed,  pray  for  all  others.    He 


INTEREST 


INVITATION 


837 


thus  teaches  both  by  direct  precept  and  by  iiuplica- 
tion  that  intercession  is  to  be  full  and  universal. 
The  only  other  special  direction  He  gives  in  tliis  con- 
nexion is  that  they  are  to  pray  for  labourers  to  be 
sent  into  the  Lord's  harvest  (Mt  ff",  Lk  10-).  Christ 
gives  these  few  general  directions  as  to  the  scope  of 
intercession,  leaving  it  to  time  and  growing  ex- 
perience to  suggest  their  amplification.  The  scope 
of  Christian  intercession  must  always  be  widening. 

■  It  grows  with  the  growth  of  the  Church  and  her  needs ;  it 
grows  with  the  growing  complexity  of  human  society  as  new 
classes  and  new  objects  rise  up  to  claim  its  help.  .  .  .  Interces- 
sion is  also  an  ever  widening  element  in  each  individual  life  ;  as 
a  man's  interest  and  experiences  widen,  so  must  his  prayers ' 
(Frere,  Sursum  Corda^  p.  1). 

i.  The  conditions  of  intercession. — Two  distinct, 
though  sometimes  confused,  conditions  of  accept- 
able intercession  are  laid  down  bjr  Christ.  (1)  In 
Mk  11**  He  shows  that  eft'ectual  intercession  pre- 
supposes a  forgiving  spirit.  Those  who  pray  for 
others  through  Christ  must  have  the  spirit  of 
Christ.  (2)  In  Mt  S^--*  the  disciples  are  taught 
that  a  condition  of  acceptable  prayer  is  that  they 
must  seek  reconciliation  with  any  one  who  regards 
them  (rightly  or  wrongly)  as  having  done  him  a 
•wrong  (see  Zahn,  ad  loc).  There  must  be  a  re- 
moval of  the  sense  of  injury  from  his  mind  as  well 
as  forgiveness  to  those  who  have  wronged  them- 
selves. He  who  prays  for  others  must  be  in  peace 
and  charity  with  all  men. 

Literature. — Most  of  the  modem  popular  books  on  Prayer 
are  astonishingly  silent  as  to  Intercession.  In  many  of  the 
so-called  'divisions  of  prayer'  Intercession  does  not  even  find  a 
place.  But  in  Matthew  Henry's  Method  of  Prayer,  a  book  little 
used  now.  Intercession  is  prominent.  Of  the  few  modern  books 
in  which  the  subject  is  dealt  with,  mention  may  be  made  of 
Worlledge  on  'Prayer'  in  the  Oxford  Library  of  Practical 
Theology  ;  Frere  and  llling^vorth's  Suramn  Corda  ;  Reid's  Chris- 
tian Prayer ;  Rendel  Harris'  Union  with  God,  pp.  41-64. 

J.  Cromarty  Smith. 

INTEREST 'Interest,'  found  twice  in  RV  of 

the  Gospels  (Mt  25=^,  Lk  19^=)  instead  of  'usury'  of 
AV,  represents  the  Greek  t6kos  which  in  the  LXX 
is  the  equivalent  of  the  Heb.  neshekh  in  the  whole 
of  the  eleven  passages  in  which  the  latter  occurs 
(Ex  22^5,  Lv  25^«  etc. ).  Now  neshekh  is  rightly  ren- 
dered '  usury,'  the  reference  being  to  the  interest, 
often  exorbitant,  charged  by  money-lenders  in  the 
ancient  East.  In  the  NT  t6ko!,  though  often  used 
in  contemporary  Greek  in  the  sense  just  defined, 
clearly  signifies  '  interest  on  deposit  paid  by  a 
banker.'  There  were  many  banks  in  tne  Roman 
period  scattered  over  the  Groeco-Roman  world, 
some  called  'public  banks'  and  others  private 
firms  (e.g.  'Theon  &  Co.,'  '  Herodes  &  Co.,'  at 
Oxyrhynchus).  These,  however,  seem,  from  a 
lately  discovered  text,  to  have  farmed  fi'om  the 
government,  in  Egypt  at  any  rate,  the  right  of 
administering  business ;  the  Roman  authorities, 
it  would  appear,  following  in  some  degree  Ptole- 
maic precedent  \Papyri  of  Oxyrhynchus,  No.  513, 
vol.  iii. :  cf .  the  note  on  p.  248  f. ).  Not  much 
seems  to  be  known  about  the  deposit  department  of 
ancient  banking.  The  technical  term  for  a  deposit 
on  which  interest  was  paid  was  creclitum.  The 
amounts  lodged  in  Roman  banks  towards  the  end 
of  the  Republic  and  under  the  Empire  must  have 
been,  in  some  instances,  very  large.  About  the 
rate  of  interest  paid  to  depositors  there  seems  to 
be  little  or  no  information.  The  statement  of 
Suetonius,  that  Augustus  branded  some  people 
with  infamy  [notavit)  because  they  borrowed  at 
low  interest  and  invested  at  high  (Octavius,  39), 
may  hint  how  the  bankers  made  money  out  of  the 
funds  entrusted  to  their  care.  The  usual  rate  of 
interest  on  loans  under  the  Empire  seems  to  have 
been  one  per  cent,  per  month,  or  twelve  per  cent. 
]ier  annum.  This  rate  is  repeatedly  mentioned  in 
the  Papyri  of  Oxyrhynchus  {No.  243  of  A.D.  79,  and 
No.  270  of  A,D.  94,  etc.).     The  rate  paid  to  deposi- 


tors will  have  been  much  lower.  A  considerable 
banking  business  was  also  done  in  ancient  temples. 
So  in  ancient  Babylonia  (Johns,  Babylonian  and 
Assyrian  Laws,  Contracts,  and  Letters,  211),  and 
in  the  Greek  world,  at  the  temple  of  the  Ephesian 
Artemis,  for  instance  (Anabasis,  v.  iii.  6f.).  That 
the  temple  of  Jerusalem  was  used  in  this  way  is 
expressly  stated  by  Josephus  (B.I  VI.  v.  2),  and  in 
the  legend  about  Heliodorus  (2  Mac  S'""'-  ").  About 
the  management  of  this  temple  bank  nothing  seems 
to  be  kno\vn.  Our  Lord's  references  are  probably 
to  local  T/jaTrefirai,  the  Eastern  representatives  of 
the  Roman  argentarii.     See  also  BANK. 

Literature. — Besides  the  authorities  mentioned  above,  see 
Hastings'  DB,  art.  '  Usury ' ;  Encyc.  Bibl.,  art.  '  Trade  and  Com- 
merce,' §  78 ;  Smith,  Diet,  of  Ant.,  artt. '  Fenus '  and '  Argentarii  ; 
Winer,  RWB,  art.  '  Hinterlage ' ;  Schurer,  GJV'ivi.  268. 

W.  Taylor  Smith. 
INTERMEDIATE  STATE.— See  Dead,  p.  426». 

INVITATION The  method  of  public  teaching 

adopted  by  our  Lord  being  exclusively  oral,  it  was 
necessary  that  two  features  difficult  to  combine 
should  be  prominent  in  the  form  of  His  instruction, 
—an  immediate  impression,  and  a  firm  grip  on  the 
memory.  This  He  secured  by  mingling  freely  in 
the  social  life  of  the  time,  and  by  an  abundant  use 
of  similes  and  illustrations  drawn  from  facts  in 
the  daily  life  and  social  customs  of  the  people 
whom  He  addressed.  This  is  one  of  the  reasons 
why  He  clothed  so  many  of  His  doctrines  in 
parables  and  figures  centred  in  the  idea  of  hospi- 
tality. 

The  Hebrews  were  an  eminently  sociable  people. 
In  the  earliest  times,  the  laws  of  hospitality  were 
specially  sacred ;  strangers  were  made  heartily 
welcome  at  the  door  of  the  patriarch's  tent  (Gn 
18^  cf.  He  13-) ;  and  in  later  times  a  surly  attitude 
towards  travellers  needing  refreshment  was  con- 
sidered a  serious  offence  against  good  manners  ( 1  S 
25*"'°).  Many  .strict  injunctions  were  laid  down 
in  the  Mosaic  Law  (Lv  \«i^--^,  Dt  14="  etc.)  as  to 
the  duty  of  kindness  to  strangers.  At  a  still  later 
period,  when  the  community  was  settled  in  towns 
and  cities,  an  elaborate  code  of  manners  grew  up, 
both  as  to  giving  and  receiving  hospitality.  There 
was  much  entertainment  of  friends,  relations,  and 
strangers  among  the  Jews  in  the  time  of  our  Lord  ; 
social  meetings  were  frequent,  and  religious  gather- 
ings frequently  took  on  a  festive  character. 

Jesus  freely  accepted  such  opportunities  of  social 
intercourse  as  were  ottered  to  Him  ;  He  was  fond  . 
of  being  entertained  by  His  friends  (Lk  10=«  etc.), 
and  distinguished  Himself  from  the  outset  of  His 
public  career  as  an  eminently  sociable  man  (Mt  9'"), 
often  accepting  invitations  from  quarters  that  gave 
oft'ence  to  those  who  considered  themselves  leaders 
of  society  (v.",  cf.  Lk  19').  This,  however.  He 
did,  not  merely  because  He  delighted  in  the  fellow- 
ship of  men  and  women,  but  mainly  because  of  the 
unexampled  opportunity  it  aflbrded  Him  of  spiri- 
tual instruction  (Mt  9'--  '^  Lk  7*'-'*»),  and  of  bring- 
ing His  influence  to  bear  on  those  around  Him, 
whether  they  were  His  personal  friends  (Lk  10"-  ■"=), 
or  secret  enemies  (7^"),  or  the  general  public  (Jn 
12'),  or  individuals  who  were  denied  entrance  into 
recognized  society  (Lk  18'").  It  was  a  sign  of  His 
insight  and  wisdom  as  well  as  of  His  broad  sym- 
pathies, that  in  a  community  so  eminently  sociable 
as  that  in  which  He  moved.  He  shoiild  make  such 
free  use  of  the  machinery  of  hospitality  for  His 
Messianic  purpose,  and  devise  many  parables  and 
illustrations  drawn  from  the  customs  of  the  day, 
and  from  the  etiquette  that  ruled  the  relations  of 
hosts  and  guests,  from  the  highest  circles  of  life  to 
the  lowest. 

It  is  partly  from  this  point  of  view  that  we  are 
to  understand  His  frequent  habit  of  representing 


INVITATION 


INVITATION 


the  gospel  of  grace  as  God's  invitation  to  the  soul 
to  partake  of  the  blessings  of  salvation.  It  made 
an  instant  appeal  to  the  sympathies  of  His 
audience ;  it  brought  spiritual  realities  within 
reach  of  the  intelligence  of  the  humblest  and  most 
ordinary  people,  and  it  predisposed  them  to  re- 
ceive His  message  -willingly ;  and,  as  the  similes 
and  illustrations  in  which  He  clothed  His  teaching 
represented  recurrent  facts  and  exigencies  in  their 
lives,  it  helped  to  drive  home  deep  into  their 
memory  the  lessons  which  He  taught,  and  to  bring 
them  back  frequently  to  their  recollection.  In 
this  way  the  method  of  His  teaching  helped  to  per- 
petuate its  substance  till  the  time  when  it  took  a 
written  form.  But  the  parables  of  invitation  have 
a  wider  appeal,  for  the  relationships  from  which 
they  were  drawn  are  universal,  and  belong  to  all 
nations  and  communities  w-here  the  customs  of 
social  life  are  honoured.  These  customs  vary  in 
detail  in  different  ages  and  lands,  but  the  root-rela- 
tions of  hosts  and  guests  are  permanent.  These 
parables  are  a  kind  of  Esperanto  of  the  spiritual 
life,  and  appeal  to  the  universal  intelligence  and 
sympathies  of  mankind.  Thus  the  human  side  of 
Christ's  teaching  forms  an  ideal  channel  for  its 
Divine  contents. 

When  we  pass  from  the  form  to  the  substance  of 
the  teaching,  which  represents  the  gospel  as  an 
inx-itation,  the  simile  is  further  justified  by  its 
appropriateness  and  its  beauty. 

1.  It  emphasizes  the  bright  and  genial  aspects  of 
religion,  which  shine  with  so  clear  a  lustre  in  the 
teaching  of  Jesus.  It  has  been  a  recurrent  and 
baneful  feature  of  theological  learning  that  it  has 
tended  to  envelop  religion  in  an  atmosphere  of 
gloom,  by  making  so  much  of  the  horror  and  mis- 
chief of  sin,  and  dwelling  so  exclusively  on  the 
need  of  repentance,  atonement,  and  justification. 
Religious  ritual  introduced  another  baneful  ele- 
ment into  the  spiritual  life  by  representing  its 
duties  too  much  as  a  series  of  sacerdotal  ob- 
servances, which  by  frequent  recurrence  became 
mechanical  and  wearisome.  Ethical  writers  have 
likewise  been  prone  to  dwell  exclusively  on  the  re- 
sponsibilities of  religion,  to  the  obscuration  of 
its  privileges.  In  the  teaching  of  Jesus  there 
is  nothing  of  this  mischievous  tendency.  His 
parables  are  full  of  the  sound  of  wedding-bells,  of 
the  voice  of  laughter,  of  the  joy  of  a  great  de- 
liverance, of  the  discovery  of  a  precious  and  un- 
suspected happiness.  There  are  clouds  on  the 
horizon,  and  the  echo  of  distant  thunders  ;  but  the 
foreground  is  full  of  happy  figures  intent  on  cele- 
brating the  marriage  of  the  soul  to  its  Divine 
Lover  and  Friend,  and  on  enjoying  the  new-found 
fellowship  of  God  as  the  Giver  of  life  and  salva- 
tion. Without  in  any  way  obscuring  the  evils 
from  which  the  soul  is  delivered  by  the  gracious 
ministries  of  the  gospel,  preachers  should  follow 
their  great  Model  in  placing  greater  emphasis  on 
the  sunny  joys  and  holy  privileges  brought  within 
our  reach  in  Jesus  Christ.  One  reason  wliy  the 
common  people  lizard  Him  so  jrladly  wns,  that  He 
took  them  away  fmin  the  -» oi-.l-sjilil  I  iiij  an. I  olab- 
orate  discussion-  oi  \\ir  llaliliis,  an.l  ii.iit  |,nrted 
them  into  that  cil.lr  of  lialipy  huinajl  l.'lation- 
ships  from  wliicli  He  mainly  drew  His  illustra- 
tions.    What  was  true  then  is  just  as  true  to-day. 

2.  The  presentation  of  the  gospel  as  a  Divine 
invitation  throws  emphasis  on  another  of  its  essen- 
tial features,— that  it  embodies  a  free  gift  of  gr.-we 
from  God  to  man.  The  central  idea  of  hospitality 
is  that  one  gives  freely  what  the  many  receive  and 
enjoy  'without  money  and  without  price.'  Jtsus 
in  the  'parables  of  grace'  teaches  us  that  the 
gospel  contains  sometliing  infinitely  precious  wliich 
is  given  to  us,  but  which  we  could  never  deserve 
or  buy.     Religion  is  not  a  bargain  between  man 


and  God  ;  it  is  a  boon,  a  largess  bestowed  by  God 
on  man.  It  is  not  commerce,  it  is  reconciliation 
and  friendship.  It  is  thus  represented  not  as  an 
excliange  of  commodities  in  a  market-place,  but  as 
a  feast  where  the  one  side  gives  all  and  receives 
nothing  back,  save  in  realizing  the  happiness  and 
loyal  gratitude  of  the  invited  guests.  Jesus  justi- 
fies this  idea  of  a  one-sided  benefit  by  nearly 
always  making  use  of  a  simile  of  feasting  in 
which  a  superior  invites  his  inferior  to  a  banquet. 
It  is  a  king  inviting  his  subjects  to  the  wedding- 
feast  of  his  son  (Mt  22--") ;  it  is  a  great  man  enter- 
taining a  miscellaneous  assemblage  of  guests  from 
all  quarters  (Lk  14'=-=^) ;  it  is  a  father  welcoming 
liome  a  renegade  son  with  the  best  of  the  flock. 
In  all  these  cases  there  could  be  no  question  of  a 
return  in  kind.  The  conditions  were  satisfied  by 
the  coming  of  the  guests,  and  their  happy  enjoy- 
ment of  the  good  things  provided.  '  The  gospel  is 
ever  a  gospel  of  grace. 

3.  A  third  significant  aspect  suggested  by  the 
simile  of  an  invitation  is  its  voluntariness  on  both 
sides.  There  can  be  no  compulsion  in  the  invita- 
tion to  a  feast  of  rejoicing.  Unwilling  guests  have 
no  place  at  a  banquet.  Religion  has  no  room  for 
the  idea  of  spiritual  compulsion.  The  invitation  is 
free  to  all :  acceptance  must  be  as  free.  Thus  is 
the  sacred  function  of  spiritual  liberty,  of  the  free- 
dom of  the  AvUl,  safeguarded  by  the  gospel.  Those 
who  refuse  or  neglect  a  social  invitation  may  be 
incurring  a  grave  responsibility ;  but  they  can  do 
so  if  they  choose.  The  spiritual  appeal  of  religion 
may  also  be  refused  ;  it  lies  with  the  soul  whether 
it  wUI  respond  to  the  call  of  God  or  reject  it. 

The  word  translated  'compel'  in  Lk  1423  (iti-yxttirn)  must  be 
read  in  its  secondary  meaninjx  of  'constrain  by  persuasion.'  It 
'  reflects  in  the  first  place  the  ur^^ent  desire  of  the  roaster  to 
have  an  absolutely  full  house,  in  the  second  the  feeling  tha*, 
pressure  will  be  needed  to  overcome  the  incredulity  of  country 
people  as  to  such  an  invitation  to  them  W\n^  meant  seriously. 
They  would  be  apt  to  laugh  in  the  senant's  face*  (Bruce  in 
Expositor's  Gr.  Test.,  in  loco). 

i.  The  idea  of  an  invitation  thus  merges  into 
that  of  response  ;  and  it  is  important  to  notice  that 
great  stress  is  laid  on  this  side  of  the  question  in 
the  parables.  In  not  a  few  it  is  clearly  the  pivot 
on  which  the  teaching  turns.  There  is  one  way  in 
which  an  invitation  may  be  worthily  accepted ; 
there  are  several  in  which  it  may  be  rejected  :  e.g. 
it  may  be  (1)  openly  scorned,  ('2)  accepted  and  then 
rejected  or  ignored,  (3)  accepted  in  a  wrong  spirit, 
or  with  an  imperfect  realization  of  its  privileges 
and  value.  Each  of  tliese  situations  is  dealt  with 
by  Christ  to  typify  the  attitude  of  men  to  His 
gospel.  In  the  parable  of  the  Marriage  of  the 
King's  Son,  the  first  guests  invited  treat  the  offer 
with  scorn  (Mt  22'),  and  'make  light'  of  it,  pre- 
ferring to  find  their  satisfaction  in  their  own  way, 
and  even  maltreating  the  king's  messengers.  By 
tills  Jesus  exposed  the  attitude  of  the  Pharisees 
and  scribes  towards  His  gospel,  and  in  a  wider 
sense  that  of  all  those  who  in  a  thoroughly  worldly 
spirit  have  since  treated  His  offer  of  salvation  with 
derision  or  disrespect.  In  the  parable  of  the 
Great  Supper,  the  guests  first  accepted  the  invita- 
tion, ana  then,  finding  other  more  absorbing  in- 
terests, sent  various  excuses  for  not  attending. 
These  represent  the  fickle  multitude,  who  at  first 
thronged  to  hear  the  'gracious  words  that  pro- 
ceeded out  of  his  mouth,'  and  afterwards  left 
Him,  having  exhausted  the  sensational  aspect  of 
His  ministry  and  wonderful  works,  and  having  no 
love  for  His  higher  message.  Returning  to  the 
)>iirable  of  the  Marriage,  we  find  a  final  episode  in 
winch  the  man  without  a  'wedding-garment'  is 
dealt  with.  Clearly  he  stands  for  those  who, 
having  heard  and  accepted  the  invitation  of  tlie 
gospel,  show  that  they  have  failed  to  realize  the 
lofty  and  decorous  spirit  in  which  the  soul  should 


IRONY 


ISRAEL,  ISRAELITE 


839 


respond  to  it,  and  who  treat  it  as  a  common  thing, 
•with  no  sense  of  its  high  privilege.  The  care  wit)i 
which  Jesus  developed  these  situations  in  His 
parables,  and  proclaimed  the  doom  that  followed, 
shows  how  deeply  He  felt  the  importance  of  a 
right  attitude  towards  spiritual  realities.  It  is  as 
though  He  were  repeating  in  many  tones  and 
accents  the  fact  that  God  offers  man  His  best  in 
tlie  invitations  of  the  gospel,  and  expects  man  to 
be  at  his  best  in  responding  to  them,  otherwise 
he  perils  his  soul  (cf.  >It  22'-  ",  Lk  14-*). 

When  we  turn  from  the  teaching  to  the  practice 
of  Christ,  the  same  attitude  of  appeal  and  invita- 
tion is  manifested,  and  the  same  spirit  of  loyal  and 
worthy  acceptance  is  expected  in  turn.  Every- 
where in  His  dealings  with  men  we  find  Him 
acting  as  God's  messenger  of  goodwill,  and  urgin" 
them  to  respond  to  heavenly  grace  with  grateful 
hearts  and  willing  service.  Where  men  do  so  He 
promises  them  a  great  reward  (Mt  19^"™) ;  where 
they  fail  to  do  so  He  shows  a  Divine  and  touching 
sorrow  (23^'-  ^') ;  and  though  He  is  clear  in  reveal- 
ing His  own  disappointment  at  such  a  result.  He 
lays  the  chief  stress  on  the  loss  and  misery  which 
rejection  must  bring  on  those  who  are  guilty  of 
spurning  or  ignoring  His  ever-renewed  appeal. 

The  heart  of  the  gospel  is  found  in  the  central 
invitation  given  by  Christ  to  all  men  in  the  words, 
'  Come  unto  me,  all  ye  that  labour  and  are  heavy 
laden,  and  I  will  give  you  rest'  (Mt  11^). 

Literature.— Wendt,  Teach,  of  Jesus,  i.  148  fE. ;  Stalker,  Imago 
Christt,  ch.  vii. ;  Bruce,  Galilean  Gospel,  ch.  xii. ;  Expositor,  I. 
xi.  (18S0]  101 B.    See,  further,  art.  Cojiino  to  Christ. 

E.  Griffith-Jones. 
IROHY.— See  Humoue,  and  Laughter. 


ISAAC — Named  (1)  in  our  Lord's 
Mt  1^,  Lk  3^^ ;  (2)  in  such  collocations  as  '  sit  down 
with  Abraham  and  Isaac  and  Jacob'  (Mt  8"),  '  see 
Abraham  and  Isaac  and  Jacob'  (Lk  13^),  '  the  God 
of  Abraham  and  of  Isaac  and  of  Jacob '  (Mt  22'=, 
Mk  122«,  Lk  20^).  See  Abraham,  and  Fathers. 
The  sacrifice  of  Isaac  came  at  an  early  date  to  be 
used  by  Christian  writers  as  a  type  of  the  sacrifice 
on  the  cross  (cf.  e.g.  Ep.  of  Barn.  ch.  7).     It  is 


ible  that 


such   thought  underlies 


'  He  that  spared  not  his  o^vn  Son.' 


iio'i 


ISAIAH. — There  are  seven  instances  recorded  in 
the  Gospels  in  which  Jesus  quotes  from  the  pro- 
phecies of  Isaiah,  besides  numerous  other  cases  in 
which  His  language  is  more  or  less  manifestly 
reminiscent  of  expressions  in  the  book.  The  most 
notable  passages  are  two  in  which  our  Lord  applies 
to  Himself  the  terras  used  by  the  prophet  of  the 
Exile  with  regard  to  tlie  Servant  of  Jehovah,  viz. 
Lk  416-2'J,  where  Jesus  reads  and  expounds  the 
words  of  Is  6P-  =  ;  and  Lk  22",  where  lie  adopts  as 
a  prediction  of  His  own  experience  a  clause  of  Is 
53'-.  Our  Lord  thus  plainly  taught  that,  alike  in 
the  mission  and  in  the  vicarious  sufiering  of  the 
ideal  Servant  of  Deutero-Isaiah,  His  own  person 
and  work  were  typified  and  foreshadowed.  More 
general  is  the  application  of  Is  6'- '"  to  the  people 
of  His  o^vn  time  (Mt  13'^  ",  Mk  4}-,  Lk  8^") ;  and 
also  His  use  of  Is  29'=  of  the  Pharisees  and  scribes 
(Mt  15'-9,  Mk  7«-').  All  three  Synoptists  record 
the  quotation  from  Is  56'  with  which  He  rebuked 
the  temple-traders  (Mt  2V^  \\).  St.  John  alone 
gives  the  quotation  of  a  general  character  from 
Is  54'^  (Jn  6*°),  while  St.  Mark  records  an  expres- 
sion which  manifestly  comes  from  Is  eS^*  (Mk  g''*). 
In  only  three  of  the  alx)ve  seven  cases  is  Isaiah 
mentioned  by  name,  and  in  no  case  is  there  any 
indication  that  bears  in  the  slightest  degree  upon 
the  question  as  to  the  authorship  of  the  various 
parts  of  the  book. 

In  addition  to  these  more  direct  references,  there 


are  many  expressions  in  the  discourses  of  Jesus  in 
whicli  we  have  echoes  of  Isaiah's  language.  Our 
Lord's  mind  was  filled  with  the  OT,  and  it  was  to  be 
expected  that  His  utterances  should  be  cast  in  the 
mould,  and  often  expressed  in  the  very  words,  of 
psalm  and  prophecy.  In  Mt  5**'  ^  we  perceive 
a  reminiscence  of  Is  66'  ;  Mt  21^"-  ||  at  once 
suggests  Is  5'-  -.  Other  less  obvious  instances  are 
proljably  to  be  found  in  Mt  IP'  (cf.  Is  14'»- 1^) 
161"  (Is  22")  6''  (Is  26=") ;  and  various  expressions  in 
the  eschatological  discourses  of  Mt  24  and  Lk  21. 
To  these  others  might  possibly  be  added  ;  but  it  is 
not  warrantable  to  find  in  every  case  of  verbal 
similarity  a  reference  to,  or  even  a  reminiscence  of, 
the  words  of  the  OT.  But  apart  from  doubtful 
cases,  it  will  be  seen  that  the  Book  of  Isaiah,  both 
in  its  earlier  and  in  its  later  portions,  is  fully 
acknowledged  and  used  in  the  teaching  of  Jesus. 

It  is  not  less  so  with  the  Evangelists  themselves. 
All  four  quote  Is  40'  with  regard  to  the  mission  of 
John  the  Baptist  (Mt  3'  and  |1) ;  while  Mt.,  who 
uses  the  OT  so  largely  in  connexion  with  the 
ministry  of  Jesus,  applies  to  His  coming  and 
mission  the  passages  Is  V*  (Mt  1==)  9'-  =  (Mt  4"-i«) 
53*  (Mt  8")  42'-*  (Mt  1218-=').  St.  John  (12'^-") 
quotes  Is  53'  6'°  in  reference  to  the  rejection  of 
Christ  by  tlie  people  ;  and  the  Sj-noptists  all  record 
the  voice  heard  at  the  Baptism  and  the  Transfigura- 
tion as  using  the  language  of  Is  42'. 

As  with  the  words  of  Jesus  Himself,  so,  in  the 
case  of  the  Evangelists,  no  theory  with  regard  to 
the  actual  authorship  of  any  part  of  the  book  can 
claim  to  be  supported  by  the  manner  of  the  refer- 
ences. '  Isaiaii,'  even  when  named,  stands  mani- 
festly for  the  reputed  author,  and  (as  in  Jn  12'*) 
the  mode  of  expression  is  naturally  and  rightly 
that  popularly  used  and  understood.  No  critical 
conclusions  can  be  drawn  from  any  of  the  refer- 

With  regard  to  the  original  Messianic  import  of 
tlie  passages  applied  in  tlie  Gospels  to  Jesus  Christ 
and  His  work,  there  is  no  ditticulty  in  those  cases 
where  the  '  Servant  of  Jehovah '  is  identified  with 
the  Messiah.  And  even  in  such  passages  as  Is  V'* 
9'-=  quoted  by  Mt.,  we  must  recognize,  beneath 
and  beyond  the  immediate  prophetic  reference,  an 
ideal  element  which  permitted  and  justified  the 
specific  application  by  the  Evangelist.  Especially 
is  this  so  witli  the  proplietic  conception  of  '  Ira- 
manuel,'  an  ideal  figure  in  whom  we  find  the  ear- 
liest portraiture  of  the  Messianic  King  (Is  T"  8^  '" 
Q";').  Though  it  miglit  in  some  cases  be  without 
historical  or  critical  exactitude  (as  in  Mt  4'^-  "" 
from  Is  9'-  =),  it  was  quite  legitimate  to  find  unex- 
pected correspondences  between  the  earlier  and  the 
later  stages  of  Providence  and  Revelation,  based 
on  the  deep  underlying  unity  and  consistency  of 
the  Divine  purpose  and  methods. 

J.  E.  M'OUAT. 

ISCAWOT.— See  Judas  Iscariot. 

ISRAEL,  ISRAELITE.  — 1.  The  former  name 
occurs  30  times  in  the  Gospels,  and  the  latter 
once  (Jn  1*').  The  following  expressions  are 
found :  '  Israel,'  with  or  without  the  article  (Mt 
8'"  9",  Lk  1"-  8"  2=5-  '*  4==-  ='  7"  24=',  Jn  1"  3"> ;  also 
Mk  12="  vocative);  'people  (\o6s)  Israel'  (Mt  2'^, 
Lk  2'=);  'house  of  Israel' (Mt  10«  15=');  'sons  of 
Israel '  (Mt  27",  Lk  1'") ;  '  tribes  of  Israel '  (Mt  19=«, 
Lk  22"'):  'land  of  Israel'  (Mt  2=°'-);  'God  of 
Israel'  (Mt  15",  Lk  1®*);  'King  of  Israel'  (Mt 
27*=,  Mk  15'=,  Jn  l*"  12").  The  force  of  the  name 
is  best  understood  by  comparing  it  witli  two  others 
used  in  the  NT.  '  Hebrew '  (Efipaws)  is  one  who 
speaks  the  Hebrew  language — i.e.  the  vernacular 
Aramaic  dialect  (Ac  6' ;  cf.  Lk  23'«,  Jn  19"-  '"•  "<>). 
'  Jew' (loi'Saios)  implies  national  descent;  origin- 
ally used  for  those  who  were  members  of  the  tribe 


840 


ISRAEL,  ISRAELITE 


ISRAEL,  ISRAELITE 


of  Judali,  and  lived  in  the  countiy  of  Judah,  it 
became  a  wider  term,  after  tlie  return  from  Baby- 
lon, for  all  wlio  were  members  of  the  Hebrew  race. 
'Israel' differed  from  both  of  these  as  being  the 
name  of  privilege  given  by  God  to  Jacob,  the 
ancestor  of  the  race  (Gn  32=*  35'°),  and  the  thought 
of  the  theocratic  privUeges  of  the  chosen  people 
and  of  God's  covenant  with  them  always  underlies 
the  term.  See  csp.  Mt  2«,  Lk  1"- "s  o;a.2i  24=', 
Ac  P,  all  of  which  reveal  the  national  conviction 
that  the  Messiah  would  come  for  the  benefit  of 
Israel,  and  that  to  Israel  were  God's  attention  and 
love  especially  given.  But  in  marked  contrast  to 
such  passages  are  those  which  imply  that  the 
theocratic  nation  has  failed  to  fulfil  the  Divine 
purposes  for  it : — a  Roman  centurion  exhibits 
greater  faith  than  was  to  be  found  in  the  holy 
nation  (Mt  8"  II  Lk  7')  ;  the  house  of  Israel  are  as 
a  whole  '  lost  sheep '  (Mt  10^  15") ;  they  need  some- 
one to  turn  them  to  the  Lord  their  God  (Lk  1'")  ; 
an  honoured  and  oHicial  teacher  of  Israel  is  shown 
to  be  ignorant  of  the  fundamental  principles  of  the 
spiritual  life  (Jn  3"") ;  incidents  in  the  OT  prove 
that  some  Gentiles  received  God's  care  and  bless- 
ing, and  were  preferred  to  Israelites  (Lk  4==-=") ; 
and  a  mysterious  intimation  is  given  of  the 
supremacy  of  the  Church  of  Christ  hereafter  (Mt 
19-8 II  Lk  22^")  ;  it  is  character,  and  not  theocratic 
privileges,  that  makes  a  man  'truly  an  Israelite' 
( Jn  1«).  See  Nathanael.  Thus  the  Gospels  teach 
incidentally  what  St.  Paul  lays  down  categorically  : 
{a)  that  Israel  does  not  comprise  all  who  are  of  Israel 
(Ro  9") ;  (6)  that  the  privileged  position  of  Israel  is 
to  be  taken  by  Christians,  for  the  latter  are  '  the 
Israel  of  God '  (Gal  6'^  cf.  Eph  2"-'3) ;  (c)  that 
this  is  for  the  purpose  of  ultimately  restoring 
Israel  to  spiritual  communion  and  salvation  (Ro 
9-11). 

2.  The  status  of  the  chosen  people  liefore  God  is 
to  be  taken  by  Christians.  But  that  does  not 
mean  that  Christianity  is  merely  to  be  substituted 
for  Judaism.  Cliristianity  is  not  a  completely 
new  creation  fallen  from  heaven,  but  rather  a 
growth  from  the  religion  of  Israel— a  growth  far 
surpassing  the  germ  from  which  it  sprang,  as  an 
oak  surpasses  an  acorn,  but  yet  composed  of  ele- 
ments which  are  discernible  in  the  earlier  dispensa- 
tion in  a  rudimentary  form.  In  order,  therefore, 
to  estimate  the  relation  in  which  the  Gospels,  and 
particularly  our  Lord's  teaching,  stood  towards 
Israel,  it  is  necessary  to  estimate  broadly  how 
much  the  New  was  indebted  to  the  Old,  and  how 
much  it  discarded  in  rising  out  of  it  with  its  Divine 
and  potent  growth. 

(a)  Monotheism  was  the  chief  est  glory  of  J>idai.sm. 
Part  of  the  inspiration  of  the  people  of  Israel  is 
seen  in  its  '  genius  for  religion,'  the  capacity  for 
realizing  the  supreme  and  only  existence  of  God. 
A  step  towards  this  had  been  monolatry,  the 
national  adhesion  to  one  Deity  only,  which  was 
compatible  with  the  recognition  that  other  nations 
and  lands  were  under  the  protection  of  other 
deities  (Jg  U-*,  1  S  26'9).  But  it  was  not  long 
before  the  Hebrew  prophets  taught  that  Jeliovali 
was  the  God  of  all  the  nations  of  the  earth,  a 
spiritual  Being  whose  service  was  incumbent  ujion 
all  mankind,  that  service  consisting  not  primarily 
in  ritual  but  in  morality.  And  this  truth  is  the 
very  fibre  of  Christianity;  a  Christian  is  in  the 
truest  sense  a  Unitarian.  '  Jesus  answered,  "The 
chief  [commandment]  is  —  Hear  O  Israel,  the 
Lord  our  God  is  one  Lord  ;  and  tliou  shalt  love  the 
Lord  thy  God'"  (Mk  12»).  But  even  in  tlie  OT 
there  are  not  wanting  intimations  that  the  God- 
head is  not  a  '  monotonous  unity,'  but  that  there 
are  distinctions  witliin  It ;  e.g.  '  tlie  Angel  of  Jali- 
weli  or  of  God,'  i.e.  His  presence  manifesting  itself 
in  outward  act  (Ex  3=  14'"  22=*) ;  '  the  Captain  of 


Jahweh's  host,'  who  is  also  called  Jahweh  (Jos 
5»'-  6=);  'His  Holy  Spirit'  (Is  63™-);  see  also 
the  thrice  repeated  name  (Nu  6"=''),  and  the 
Tersanctus  (Is  6').*  According  to  the  reports  of 
His  teaching  as  contained  in  the  Gospel  records, 
our  Lord  expressly  formulated  the  truth  of  the 
unity  of  God,  but  never  that  of  the  Holy  Trinity  ; 
and  yet  the  latter  pervades  the  whole  record.  '  In 
the  gradual  process  of  intercourse  with  Him,  His 
disciples  came  to  recognize  Father,  Son,  and  Holy 
Spirit  as  included  in  their  deepening  and  enlarging 
thought  of  God.'  But  the  truth  is  definitely 
implied  in  the  discourses  in  the  Upper  Room  (Jn 
14-17),  and  in  the  baptismal  formula  (Mt  28"). 
See  Gore's  Bampton  Lectures,  pp.  134  ft. ;  Illing- 
worth's  do.  pp.  67  if. ;  Gibson,  The  Thirty-nine 
Artieles,  vol.  i.  pp.  93-101. 

(b)  Covenant. — The  monolatry  which  preceded 
nionotheism  was  calculated  to  give  birth  to  the 
idea  that  between  Jahweh  and  His  jieople  there 
was  a  close  and  mutual  agreement.  If  He  was 
exclusively  their  God  and  Protector,  they  were 
bound  to  do  Him  service.  It  is  not  easy  to  say  at 
what  period  the  conception  arose.  But  tlie  earlier 
prophets,  though  they  do  not  expressly  mention 
a  covenant — except  Hosea  (6'  doubtful,  8') — all 
teach  the  truth  that  Jahweh  requires  moral, 
ethical  service  from  His  people.  And  in  the  JE 
compilations  of  the  national  traditions  the  covenant 
relationship  with  God  is  firmly  established  in  the 
religious  thought  of  Israel.  The  covenant  with 
Abraham  (Gn  15)  is  the  starting-point.  Tlie 
covenant  at  Sinai  (Ex  24'""  34i"-=8)  opens  the 
second  stage  of  the  history.  D  has  yet  another 
covenant,  based  on  the  contents  of  the  Deut.  law, 
and  made  on  the  borders  of  Moab  (Dt  29  '■  "•  '-■  "•  -' ; 
cf.  26'8-i9,  2  K  23=-  -'■).  But  when  Israel  was  carried 
into  Babylon,  the  Old  Covenant  was  in  reality  at 
an  end  ;  they  had  broken  it  by  their  sins.  Jeremiah, 
therefore,  speaks  of  a  New  Covenant  (31'"'-),  for- 
giveness of  sins,  righteousness,  peace  and  joy.  It 
had  been  foreshadowed  in  the  life  story  of  Hosea, 
and  was  to  be  the  fulfilment  of  the  dreams  and 
longings  of  all  the  prophets.  '  In  tlie  visions  of 
the  new  covenant  the  OT  becomes  Christian.' 
And  the  thought  is  the  inspiration  of  Ezekiel  and 
of  Deutero-Isaiah.  But  there  were  two  other  crises 
in  Israel's  history  where  the  idea  of  a  covenant  is 
prominent.  God  gave  a  covenant,  i.e.  a  promise, 
to  Levi  of  a  perpetual  priesthood  in  the  tribe  (Dt 
33',  Jer  33i8-  -"•,  Mai  2'»-«),  and  to  David  of  a  per- 
petual lineage  on  the  throne  (2  S  7.  23*,  Ps89'-''"-, 
Jer  33"-  -"■).  Thus  there  were  several  factors  which 
went  to  make  up  the  fulness  of  the  Christian  cove- 
nant. In  the  Gospels,  with  the  exception  of  Lk  1'-, 
where  the  Abrahamic  covenant  is  referred  to,  the 
only  occurrence  of  the  word  is  at  the  Last  Supper 
(Mt  26^  II  Mk  W\  Lk  222") ;  our  Lord  uses  Jeremiah's 
term,  '  the  new  covenant,'  but  at  the  same  time 
the  words  '  This  is  my  blood '  refer  to  the  covenant 
at  Sinai  (Ex  24-'').  This  application  of  the  word 
to  the  results  of  His  own  Person  and  work  served 
as  a  starting-point  for  the  fuller  working  out  of  the 
thought  by  the  Apostolic  writers.  The  analogy 
of  the  Abrahamic  covenant  is  drawn  out  chiefly 
by  St.  Paul  (Ro  4,  Gal  3),  while  the  Ep.  to  the 
Hebrews  deals  with  the  kingship  (ch.  1  ;  cf.  Mt 
22-'-'),  the  priesthood  (7-10),  and,  closely  connected 
with  tlie  latter,  the  spiritual  covenant  of  the 
forgiveness  of  sins  (10"""). 

(r)  Law. — A  study  of  the  passages  in  the  Gospels 
which  speak  of  the  "Mosaic  Law  sliows  in  a  striking 
manner  the  relation  of  Christ's  teaching  to  the 
religion  of  Israel.  On  the  one  hand,  He  recognized 
the  Divine  authority  of  the  Law,  in  its  true  mean- 
infj  and  spirit,  and  not  as  interpreted  and  em- 

*  On  the  use  of  the  indefinite  plural  '  they,'  eee  Taylor  on 
PirlieAboth,i\.i. 


ISEAEL,  ISRAELITE 


ISRAEL,  ISRAELITE 


841 


bodied  in  the  '  deformed  righteousness '  of  the 
scribes  and  IMuirisees  (Mt  5"-="  12^  19"23»,  Lk  16"). 
But,  on  the  other  hand,  in  order  to  '  fulKl '  (w\-qpCi- 
aai)  the  Law  He  was  obliged  to  take  a  negative  or 
critical  attitvide.  'The  Law  and  the  Prophets,' 
as  a  dispensation,  have  had  tlieir  day,  and  liave 
given  place  to  '  the  kingdom  of  heaven '  (Mt  II'-'-  || 
Lk  16"*),  and  to  '  grace  and  truth'  (Jn  1"  ;  and  see 
Mt  9"  II  Mk  2="-,  Lk  5^').  Even  the  Law  and  the 
Prophets  meant  something  deeper  than  they  had 
hitherto  been  understood  to  mean  (Mt  7'^  22"*"'") ; 
and  this  deeper  meaning  is  contained  in  a  '  new 
commandment'  which  Jesus  gives  to  the  disciples 
(Jn  13**).  The  Law  had  generally  been  considered 
as  a  compendium  of  positive  commands  bearing  on 
the  details  of  life ;  but  the  only  parts  of  it  that 
mattered  were  'the  weightier  things,'  judgment, 
mercy  and  faith  (Mt  23^3  y  lj.  u4a)_  other  criti- 
cisms of  the  Law  are  found  in  Mt  5"'"*'  19"*  (divorce) 
12'-'=,  Lk  13'»-"  14'-6,  Jn  5»-"  9  (Sabbath).  Our 
Lord  took  care  to  avoid  causing  ott'ence  (Mt  18'"'), 
though  showing  at  the  same  time  that  He  was 
raised  above  bondage  to  purely  ritual  and  non- 
ethical  enactments :  e.g.  in  the  payment  of  the 
Temple  tax  (Mt  17"*"^) ;  in  toiichiiif!  the  leper,  but 
at  the  same  time  telling  him  to  oiler  the  requisite 
sacrifices  (Mt  8'"^).  The  one  decisive  breach  that 
He  made  with  Jewish  legalism  was  in  dealing  with 
the  distinction  between  clean  and  unclean  foods, 
and  with  ceremonial  washings  (Mt  15'"-",  Mk  7'"°^ 
[note  KV  of  v. '"],  Lk  10'  IP'"*'). 

(d)  Sacrifice. — The  Jewish  ordinances  of  sacrifice 
formed  part  of  the  '  Law,'  and  were  also  in  intimate 
connexion  with  the  covenant  idea ;  this  section, 
therefore,  must  to  some  extent  overlap  the  two 
preceding.  Our  Lord  accorded  to  sacrifices  the 
same  recognition  that  He  accorded  to  the  Law  as  a 
whole  ;  He  accepted  them  as  of  Divine  authority, 
and  binding  upon  the  Jews.  He  told  the  recovered 
leper  to  offer  the  prescribed  gift  (MtS*);  He  assumed 
that  His  hearers  offered  them  as  an  ordinary 
practice  (5=^'-).  But  the  latter  passage  also  shows 
that  He  relegated  them  to  a  subordinate  place  as 
compared  with  the  higher  moral  duties.  He  twice 
quoted  the  saying  of  Hosea  that  God  desires  '  mercy 
and  not  sacrifice '  (Mt  9'^  12').  And  by  the  inaugu- 
ration of  the  New  Covenant  in  His  own  blood,  the 
whole  Jewish  system  was  liy  implication  abrogated 
by  being  transcended.  The  thought  of  sacrifice 
seems  also  to  underlie  the  words  in  Mt  20='  ||  Mk 
lO*'.  Christ  gave  His  life  as  a  '  ransom '  {Xirpov) 
—  a  means  of  redemption  or  release.  The  word  is 
used  in  the  LXX  as  a  rendering  of  isb  a  '  covering ' 
or  'atonement.'  But  such  a  passage  as  Nu  35^' 
shows  that  it  does  not  necessarily  imply  the  death 
of  an  animal ;  and  it  is  precarious  to  press  our 
Lord's  words  to  sujiport  any  theory  of  the  Atone- 
ment, as  has  been  done  with  disastrous  results  by 
widely  differing  schools  of  thought.  Further,  Jn 
19^'*  refers  to  the  Passover  lamb  ;  and  possibly  also 
JnP'-"*,  but  it  is  .safer  to  regard  the  Baptist's 
words  as  an  allusion  to  Is  53'*- ',  where  the  suffer- 
ings and  death  of  the  Servant  of  Jahweh  are 
described  as  being  in  some  sense  vicarious,  and 
availing  to  '  take  away  the  sin  of  the  world ' ; 
this  truth  was  depicted  symbolically  by  the  '  scape- 
goat '  on  the  Day  of  Atonement.  The  words  of 
our  Lord  at  the  institution  of  the  Eucharist  were, 
as  has  been  said  above,  the  starting-point  for  the 
fuller  teaching  of  the  Apostolic  writers.  Of  the 
debts  which  Christianity  owes  to  Israel,  none  is 
more  fundamental  than  the  conception  of  sacrifice. 
The  references  to  the  subject  in  St.  Paul's  writings, 
though  not  numerous,  are  quite  enough  to  show 
that  he  had  a  deep  and  firm  belief  in  the  sacri- 
ficial and  propitiatory  character  of  Christ's  death 
(Sanday-Headlam,  Romans,  pp.  91  f.).  See  also 
1  P  1"  (an  allusion  to  the  covenant  sacrifice  at 


Horeb),  1'"  (the  Passover  lamb),  2'-*  (a  general 
description  of  an  atoning  sacrifice).  And  it  is  the 
paramount  thought  in  Hebrews,  which  shows  how 
Christ's  sacrifice  and  priesthood  were  analogous  to, 
but  infinitely  surpassed,  the  Jewish  sacrifices  and 
the  Levitical  priesthood  (see  art.  DAY  OF  Atone- 
ment). 

(c)  Messianic  expectations. — (i.)  The  universal 
expectation  in  Israel  in  our  Lord's  time  that  One 
was  to  come  who  should  be  a  national  deliverer, 
had  its  roots  as  far  back  as  the  Divine  promises  to 
Abraham  ;  but  the  focussing  of  all  hopes  on  a  King 
was  due  to  the  promise  made  to  David  that  his 
line  should  have  perpetual  possession  of  the  throne. 
The  hopes  of  national  peace  and  glory  under  a 
king  reach  a  climax  in  Isaiah  and  Micah.  But 
they  received  a  terrible  reverse  at  the  Captivity, 
and  in  subsequent  OT  writings  the  idea  largely 
disappeared.  It  was  revived,  however,  to  a  certain 
extent  in  airocryphal  and  especially  in  apocalyptic 
literature.  In  two  of  the  earlier  portions  of  the 
Sibylline  Oracles,  in  parts  of  the  Ethiopic  Enoch 
ancf  in  the  Psalms  of  Solomon,  there  are  indica- 


Messiah  (though  the  truth  was  guessed  by  the  first 
disciples,  Jn  !■"•  ^^)  was  due  to  His  own  claims, 
which  were  not,  however,  put  forward  even  to  the 
Twelve  till  near  the  close  of  His  ministry.  He 
Ijronounced  Simon  Peter  blessed  because  the  truth 
had  been  Divinely  revealed  to  him  (Mt  16""-) ;  and 
He  acknowledged  to  Pilate  that  He  was  a  king 
(Mt  27" II  Mk  15=,  Lk  23^  Jn  If"'-).  But  while  He 
declared  the  fact,  He  raised  it  into  a  new  sphere  of 
thought — '  My  kingdom  is  not  of  this  world ;  if 
my  kingdom  were  of  this  world,  then  would  my 
servants  fight  .  .  .  but  now  is  my  kingdom  not 
from  hence.'  And  in  conversing  with  the  Twelve 
He  linked  with  it  the  clear  announcement  of  His 
approaching  sufferings  (Mk  8='"^'  and  parallels ;  cf. 

(ii.)  The  kingship  of  the  Messiah  was  the  only 
conception  which  had  been  entertained  by  the 
Jews  themselves.  But  '  in  the  minds  of  the  first 
members  of  the  Christian  Church  the  experiences 
of  the  Cross,  the  Resurrection  and  Pentecost, 
together  with  the  impression  which  the  character 
and  work,  the  life  and  teaching  of  Jesus  had  made 
upon  them,  led  to  a  rapid  transformation,  pregnant 
with  important  consequences,  of  the  idea  of  the 
Messiah  which  they  held  as  Jews '  ( Hastings'  DB 
iii.  356").  As  they  studied  the  OT  Scriptures  in  the 
light  of  these  experiences,  '  they  found  scattered 
there  the  elements  of  a  relatively  complete  ideal, 
which  had  been  perfectly  fulfilled  in  Jesus'  (ib. 
SSe"").  The  very  mode  of  life  and  teaching  which  He 
had  adopted  drew  their  attention  to  the  promise  of 
a  '  true  prophet'  (Dt  18'^  Ac  3-'-  7^').  And  in  the 
miracles  which  He  performed  He  appeared  to  be 
a  counterpart  of  OT  prophets.  This  working  of 
miracles  formed  part  of  the  current  Messianic 
conception,  as  is  implied  by  John  the  Baptist 
(Mt  ll^'-),  and  in  the  questionings  of  the  Jews 
(Jn  7^').  Another  trait  in  the  prophetic  office  of 
the  Messiah — that  of  the  revealer  of  unknown 
truths — is  implied  by  the  Samaritan  woman  (Jn 
4").  This  had  formed  no  definite  part  of  the 
earlier  INIessianic  expectations,  though  the  nation 
had  looked  forward  to  a  true  prophet  (I  Mac  14*'). 
In  our  Lortl's  tiiiio  men  hoped  for  the  return  of  one 
of  the  old  prophets  (Mk  6'^*  S"'-),  or  the  coming  of 
one  who  was  called  'the  i)rophet'  (Jn  1='-=^  6'*); 
but  there  is  no  indication  that  '  the  prophet '  was 
identified  with  the  Messiah. 

(iii. )  The  more  clearly  the  atoning  value  of  Christ's 
death  was  realized,  the  more  completely  was  He 
seen  to  be  the  ideal  Priest  foreshadowed  by  the 
Levitical  priesthood.     His  own  words  would  form 


842 


ISRAEL,  ISRAELITE 


ISRAEL,  ISRAELITE 


the  starting-point  for  this  conception  ;  He  '  laid 
do>\Ti'  His  life.  He  'gave'  His  life  as  a  ransom 
(see  above).  The  double  thought  of  Christ  as 
Victim  and  Priest  is  fully  worked  out  in  Hebrews 
on  the  basis  of  Ps  110^ 

(iv.)  The  OT  contains  many  passages  which 
teach  that  Divine  purposes  are  accomplished 
through  the  sufl'erings  of  the  righteous ;  and  in 
the  later  chapters  of  the  Book  of  Isaiah  the 
righteous  portion  of  the  nation  merges  into  the 
vision  of  one  representative  Servant  of  Jahweh, 
whose  preaching  was  to  bring  the  whole  nation, 
and  even  Gentiles,  to  the  light,  and  whose  suffer- 
ings were  to  have  a  vicarious  value.  This  repre- 
sentation does  not  appear  to  have  exercised  any 
influence  on  the  later  Jewish  expectations  of  the 
Messiah.  The  inspired  utterance  of  John  the 
Baptist  (Jn  1=^-^)  pointed  towards  the  truth, 
though  his  hearers  do  not  seem  to  have  under- 
stood his  words.  The  Twelve  could  not  realize 
the  necessity  for  Christ's  sufferings  until  He  had 
suffered,  when  the  great  truth  dawned  upon  them 
(Mt  12i8-=i,  Ac  3'3-  ^  4='-  »).  It  has  been  suggested 
that  the  servant  (5o0\os)  of  Lk  14'*'-  may  be  an 
allusion  to  the  same  figure  of  prophecy. 

(/)  Eschatologrj.  —  The  Jewish  and  Christian 
Messianic  beliefs  were  closely  bound  up  with  escha- 
tological  teaching  as  a  whole.  In  the  OT  the  ex- 
pectations vith  regard  to  a  hereafter  consisted 
mainly  of  the  aspirations  of  saints  who  felt  certain 
that  righteousness  is  eternal,  and  that  God's  power 
and  dominion  are  infinite.  This  intuitive  assurance 
that  the  present  life  with  its  inequalities  and 
anomalies  cannot  be  the  whole  of  life,  maintained 
itself  in  some  minds  side  by  side  with  the  popular 
notions  held  by  the  Hebrews  in  common  with  the 
Babylonian  and  other  Semitic  peoples,  that  Sheol 
was  a  state  in  which  man  would  continue  to  exist, 
but  only  in  a  shadowy,  nerveless,  purposeless  re- 
production of  his  present  personality.  In  apoca- 
lyptic literature  an  advance  was  made  to  some 
extent.  The  '  last  things '  began  to  be  detailed  in 
a  great  variety  of  forms — some  of  them,  indeed, 
sensuous,  and  marred  by  narrow  Jewish  exclusive- 
ness,  but  others  more  spiritual  and  universal ;  in 
some  the  Messianic  kingdom  is  to  be  on  this  earth, 
in  others  in  a  transformed  heaven  and  earth  ;  in 
some  the  enemies  of  Israel  are  punished  at  death 
in  Sheol  or  Hades,  which  thus  becomes  equivalent 
to  Hell,  while  the  righteous  {i.e.  Israel)  attain  to  a 
resurrection ;  in  others  the  resurrection  is  uni- 
versal, and  a  prelude  to  a  final  spiritual  judgment. 
And  Christian  teaching  borrowed  much,  both  from 
the  OT  and  from  later  Jewish  writings ;  but  it 
rose  to  a  spiritual  height  and  certainty  far  beyond 
the  former,  while  at  the  same  time  it  discarded  the 
gross,  exaggerated,  and  un.spiritual  elements  which 
marred  the  latter.  Christ's  own  eschatological 
teaching  centres  round  the  Kingdom  of  God.  He, 
like  the  OT  writers,  does  not  discuss  theoretical  or 
speculative  questions,  but  deals  with  broad  moral 
issues.  His  teaching  'unfolds  the  course  of  the 
Divine  kingdom  which  had  been  the  object  of  OT 
faith  and  the  centre  of  OT  hope.  It  presents  that 
kingdom  as  a  thing  of  the  actual  present,  brought 
to  men  in  and  by  the  Teacher  Himself,  but  also  as 
a  thing  of  the  future  which  looks  through  all  his- 
torical fulfilments  to  a  completer  realization— a 
thing,  too,  of  gradual,  unobtrusive  growth,  yet  des- 
tined to  be  finally  established  by  a  great  conclusive 
event' (Hastings' Z>Bi.  750").  Our  Lord,  as  reported 
by  the  Synoptists,  gave  a  large  place  to  the  promise 
of  His  o%vn  iteturn,  an  objective  event,  the  time  of 
which  was  not  yet  revealed  even  to  the  Son.  In 
some  passages  this  is  closely  connected  with  a 
quite  distinct  occurrence— the  destruction  of  Jeru- 
salem (Mt  24  il  Mk  13  ;  cf.  Mt  10=3  jg:"-,  Mk  8^"  91, 
Lk  9^'-  2V-).    Connected  with  the  Parousia,  and 


the  cause  of  it,  is  the  Final  Judgjnent,  which  will 
occur  at  the  end  of  the  world,  a  judgment  of  indi- 
viduals, and  of  universal  scope,  in  which  Christ 
the  Son  of  Man  will  be  Himself  the  Judge.  The 
Fourth  Gospel,  while  not  without  indications  (cf. 
12*)  of  this  final  judgment,  lays  stress  rather  on  a 
present  judgment,  '  fulfilling  itself  in  a  probation 
of  character  and  a  self- verdict  which  proceed  now ' 
(3171.  i2J7f.)_  "Witij  the  teaching  of  Jesus  on  the 
Parousia  and  Judgment  is  connected  the  doctrine 
of  a  Eesurrection.  In  the  OT  this  was  not  a 
doctrine,  but  a  vague  longing  of  a  few  great  minds 
for  a  deliverance  from  Sheol,  a  life  superior  to 
death.  It  was  only  gradually  and  at  a  late  date 
that  the  conception  became  more  distinct.  At 
first  it  was  a  re-animation  of  Israel  as  a  whole,  but 
Is  26''  seems  to  breathe  the  more  individual  hope  ; 
and  the  clearest  statement  is  reached  in  Dn  12='-, 
the  latest  OT  utterance  on  the  subject.  Nowhere 
in  the  OT  is  a  resurrection  thought  of  as  extend- 
ing beyond  the  case  of  Israel ;  but  the  doctrine  of 
a  resurrection  of  all  men  was  gradually  evolved, 
and  had  been  accepted  before  the  Christian  era  by 
the  Pharisees  and  the  mass  of  the  people,  though 
rejected  by  the  Sadducees,  in  accordance  with  their 
principle  of  rejecting  all  traditions  and  accretions 
later  than  the  OT.  Our  Lord's  teaching  holds  a 
course  between  the  two  ;  it  is  based  on  the  great 
principles  of  the  OT,  but  is  coloured,  as  to  some 
details,  by  the  eschatology  of  later  writings,  being 
at  the  same  time  free  from  the  crudeness  and  ex- 
travagances of  the  popular  beliefs.  See  Mt  2223-3^  || 
Mk  12'8-",  Lk  20='-'» ;  Mt  8",  Lk  IS^^'- ;  Mt  lO^", 
Lk  14",  Jn  5^'- =«'■  11-'-^. 

ig)  Angelology.—'the  NT  belief  with  regard  to 
angels  is  taken  over  almost  entire  from  the  later 
phases  of  Judaism.  Angels  are  innumerable  (Mt 
26^,  Lk  2'^),  and  glorious  in  appearance  (Mt  28^, 
Lk  2' ;  cf.  Sd^ai  2  P  2i») ;  they  minister  to  God's 
people  (Mt  21*  4",  Lk  22^*)^  and  carry  the  saints 
to  Paradise  (Lk  16-).  As  Jahweh,  in  the  OT, 
was  surrounded  by  them,  so  the  Son  of  Man  will 
be  accompanied  by  them  at  His  Parousia  (Mt  16" 
25*') ;  and  they  are  charged  with  duties  connected 
with  the  Last  Day  (Mt  13"- "  24*').  In  OT  and 
NT  alike  only  two  angelic  names  are  recorded, 
Michael  and  Gabriel  (Dn  10'*-  ='  8'«  9=',  Jude',  Rev 
12',  Lk  l'5-2«).  Satan  is  an  individual  being  (Mk 
1'*,  Lk  10'*).  In  a  few  points  Christian  concep- 
tions show  an  advance  upon  the  Jewish.  In  the 
Book  of  Daniel  angels  are  guardians  or  patrons  of 
particular  countries  (lO'*-  f-  -\  12') ;  in  Mt  18'"  they 
appear  to  be  guardians  of  individual  human  beings, 
especially  of  children.  Satan  is  attended  by  a 
company  of  angels  (Mt  25^',  Rev  12'),  an  idea  not 
found  in  earlier  writings.  Angels  are  spirits  ( He 
1''').  Christ,  and  men  in  union  with  Him,  are 
better  than  angels  (He  2*,  1  Co  6*). 

(h)  Scripture. — This  has  been  placed  at  the  end, 
and  not  at  the  beginning,  of  the  series,  because  the 
growth  of  Christianity  out  of  the  religion  of  Israel 
would  remain  a  fact  even  if  all  the  Jewish  records 
had  been  destroyed.  But  it  is  true  that  the  posses- 
sion of,  and  devotion  to,  the  OT  Scriptures  had  an 
enormous  effect  on  the  formation  of  Christian 
thought  and  teaching  and  phraseology.  The  direct 
quotations  from  the  OT  in  the  NT  are  very  many ; 
and  there  are,  besides,  a  mass  of  more  or  less 
distinct  allusions  and  reminiscences  which  must  be 
studied  in  their  OT  context  if  their  meaning  in 
the  NT  is  to  be  understood.  See  artt.  Old  Testa- 
ment, and  Quotations. 

LiTRRATrRB.— In  addition  to  the  works  on  OT  Theology  and 
on  the  Life  of  Christ,  the  following  are  among  the  more  useful 
English  works  which  are  easily  obtainable.  They  are  arranged 
according  to  the  sections  in  the  article — 

1.  Sanday-Headlam,  Romans,  on  chs.  9-11. 

2.  (a)  Gore,  Bampton  Lectures ;  Illingworth,  do.  ;  Gibson, 
The  Thirty-nine  Articles,  vol.  i.  91-118 ;  E.  Caird,  The  Evolu- 


ISSUE  "OF  BLOOD 


ITUR^A 


843 


tion  of  Religion.  The  doctrine  of  God  from  the  Jewish  side  19 
treated  in  Montefiore's  Hibbert  Lectures. 

\b)  Westcott,  Hebrews,  298-302 ;  Candlish,  Expos.  Times, 
1892  (Oct. -Nov.). 

(c)  Hort,  Jndaistic  ChristianiUj ;  M'Giffert,  History  of 
Christianity  in  the  Apostolic  Age ;  Bruce,  The  Kingdom  of 
God,  and  Si.  Paul's  Conception  of  Christianity ;  Sand.-Headl., 
Romans,  187  SS.  ,       _, 

(ri)  Cave,  The  Scriptural  Doctrine  of  Sacrifice  ;  Maurice,  The 
Doctrine  of  Sacrifice ;  Milligan,  The  Ascension  and  Heavenly 
Priesthood  of  our  Lord;  Westcott,  Hebrews;  Sand.-Headl., 
Romans,  91  f.  ;  Driver,  Deuteronomy,  note  on  133,  425  f. 

(e)  (f)  Edersheim,  Life  and  Times  of  Jesus  the  Messiah ; 
Drummond,  The  Jewish  Messiah  ;  Stanton,  The  Jewish  aiul 
the  Christian  Messiah ;  Dalman,  The  Words  of  Jesus  (Eng.  tr.) ; 
Driver-Neubauer,  The  Jetoish  Interpreters  of  Is.  llii. ;  Charles, 
Eschatologv  Hebretv  Jewish  and  Christian ;  Salmond,  The 
Chrisliari  Doctrine  of  Immortality  ;  Thackeray,  The  Relation 
of  St.  Paul  to  Contemporary  Jewish  Thought;  Enoch  (ed. 
Charles) ;  Psalms  of  Solomon  (ed.  Ryle-James). 

(a)  Fuller,  Excursus  on  '  Angelology  and  Demonology,'  in 
Speaker's  Apocrypha,  vol.  i. ;  Comm.  on  Dan.,  Zech.,  and 
Revelation. 

(A)  See  art.  Septitaqint  with  the  literature  there. 

Besides  the  above,  a  mass  of  useful  information  is  contained 
in  the  following  articles  in  Hastings'  DJS :—' Israel,"  'God,' 
'Jesus  Christ,'  'Covenant,'  '  Law  (in  N.T.),'  'Sacrifice,'  'Atone- 
ment,' 'Messiah,'  '  Eschatology,'  'Resurrection,'  'Angel,' 
'Satan,'  'Development  of  Doctrine '  (Extra  Vol.) 

A.  H.  M'Neile. 

ISSUE  OF  BLOOD.^One  peculiarly  distressing 
case  of  this  ailment  is  mentioned  in  the  Gospels 
(Mt  9-°  ai|aof>/)ooG(ra,  Mk  5^,  and  Lk  8^^  ovaa  iv  'fiaei 
aifiaTos).  Tlie  description  indicates  a  very  severe 
and  obstinate  form  of  uterine  htemorrhage  possibly 
arising  from  internal  growth,  for  the  patient  had 
sulFered  many  things  of  many  physicians  and  only 
grew  worse  for  the  treatment  ;  and  she  had  en- 
dured the  complaint  for  twelve  years.  The  malady 
was  in  general  regarded  as  incurable  by  medical 
treatment,  and  was  handed  over  to  be  dealt  with 
by  magic  charms  and  amulets.  Its  painful  char- 
acter, apart  from  its  enfeebling  and  prostrating 
eftects,  was  increased  by  the  fact  that  it  involved 
a  rigorous  isolation  from  society,  and  was  looked 
upon  with  particular  horror.  All  female  dis- 
charges, even  the  normal  monthly  occurrences, 
were  peculiarly  repugnant  to  the  Semitic  mind, 
and  came  under  the  cycle  of  custom  and  legislation 
to  which  the  Polynesian  term  taboo  has  been  ap- 
plied. The  terror  arose  from  the  dread  of  super- 
natural penalties  and  of  malignant  agencies  which 
were  supposed  to  emanate  from  women  at  such 
times.  Supernatural  powers  were  believed  to 
reside  in  the  blood  of  the  menses,  on  account  of 
which  it  was  itself  held  to  be  efficacious  as  a 
charm.  The  idea  may  have  been  modified  before 
NT  times,  and  yet  would  remain  at  least  as  a 
vague  undefined  repugnance  and  fear  (see  W.  R. 
Smith,  RS,  Note  on  '  Holiness,  Uncleanness,  and 
Taboo  ').  The  sufi'erer  would  further  be  compelled 
to  perpetual  celibacy. 

Among  Talmudic  cures  of  this  malady  we  find  the  following  : 
'  Let  the  patient  sit  at  the  parting  of  the  ways  with  a  cup  of 
wine  in  her  hand,  and  let  some  one  coming  up  behind  startle 
her  by  calling  out,  Be  healed  of  thine  issue  of  blood.'  And, 
'T.ake  three  measures  of  onions,  boil  in  wine  and  give  the 
patient  to  drink,  at  the  same  time  calling  out  suddenly.  Be 
healed  of  thine  issue.'— An  interesting  anticipation  of  certain 
familiar  features  of  modern  therapeutics. 

That  our  Lord's  healing  of  the  sufferer  was  re- 
garded as  memorable  and  attained  to  a  consider- 
able vogue  apart  from  the  NT  record,  is  evidenced 
by  the  legend  that  the  votive  figure  at  Banifis,  .sup- 
posed to  be  that  of  Christ,  was  erected  by  this 
woman  out  of  gratitude  to  her  Deliverer,  and  other 
kindred  legends. 

The  chief  feature  of  the  miracle  was  the  fact 
that  the  healing  was  gained  surreptitiously,  apart 
from  the  will  and  initiative  of  Jesus.  Our  Lord 
was  pressing  through  the  crowd  on  His  way  to  the 
house  of  Jairus,  when  the  woman,  moved  by  a 
great  expectation  of  healing,  drew  near  to  touch  at 
least  the  fringe  of  His  garment  (in  which  special 
sanctity  resided),   assured  that  even  this  slight 


contact  would  remove  her  trouble.  Having  ac- 
complished her  object,  '  immediately  she  felt  in 
her  body  that  she  was  healed  of  the  plague,'  and 
our  Lord  became  conscious  that  '  virtue '  had  gone 
out  of  Him.  The  idea  that  healing  power  was 
resident  in  the  body  of  Jesus,  comparable  to  a 
charge  of  electric  energy,  is  not  to  be  entertained. 
The  casual  touching  of  His  body  by  any  sick 
person  would  have  had  no  such  result.  We  must 
emphasize  (\)thc  touch  of  faith.  The  whole  nature 
of  the  woman  had  been  roused  to  activity  and 
hopefulness.  No  labour  of  Jesus  to  create  and 
evoke  this  essential  condition  of  being  healed  was 
necessary  or  possible.  The  expectation  existed  at 
full  tension,  and  she  was  prepared  mentally  and 
therefore  physically  to  receive  the  healing  power. 
And  (2)  corresponding  to  this  exercise  of  faith  is  a 
Divinely  great  capacity  for  sympathy  resident  in 
the  spirit  and  life  of  Jesus.  While  this  capacity 
infinitely  transcends  the  forces  of  human  sympathy 
which  exist  in  humanity,  it  still  may  be  believed 
to  operate  on  the  same  plane  and  to  be  not  alien 
but  kindred.  The  possibility  of  syinpathetic  rela- 
tions being  in  existence  between  '  mind  and  mind,' 
quite  irrespective  of  consciousness  or  will  on  the 
part  of  both  or  of  either,  is  an  ascertained  fact, 
however  it  may  be  explainable.  Various  theories 
are  put  forward  to  account  for  the  phenomena,  but 
meanwhile  the  fact  must  be  recognized — the  power 
of  mind  to  affect  mind  by  other  than  the  channels 
of  sense.  Moreover,  (3),  our  Lord's  own  teaching 
must  be  duly  weighed,  that  His  works  were  due  to 
the  indwelling  Divine  power.  The  nature  of  Jesus 
was  strung  to  sympathy  with  the  whole  complex 
coil  of  human  suftering  and  need.  At  the  very 
moment  of  this  occurrence  His  heart  was  full  of 
intensest  sympathy  with  the  sorrowing  ruler. 
Such  a  nature  then  would  present,  quite  apart 
from  the  immediate  exercise  of  will,  a  fitting  in- 
strument for  the  Divine  healing  energy.  The 
Divine  power  utilized  and  made  inore  efficacious 
these  already  powerful  sympathies  and  expecta- 
tions ;  but  while  this  is  to  be  freely  recognized,  the 
chief  emphasis  is  to  be  laid  on  the  holy  will  of 
the  unseen  Father,  with  whom  our  Lord  was 
morally  and  essentially  one. 

LiTEEATDEE.— The  Comm. ,andstandardwork3on  the  JIfiracfcs; 
Ker,  Serm.  1st  ser.  p.  186  ff.;  Maclaren,  Serm.  pr.  in  Manchester, 
2nd  ser.  p.  294  ff.  On  the  telepathic  powers  of  the  subliminal 
consciousness  see  the  relevant  sections  of  F.  W.  Myers'  Human 
Personality.  T.  H.  WRIGHT. 

ITOR.ffiA,— This  term  is  used  in  Lk  3'  amon^ 
other  designations  of  political  and  geographical 
districts,  the  identification  of  whose  rulers  is  in- 
tended to  give  a  fixed  chronological  starting-point 
for  the  ministry  of  John  the  Baptist.  It  does  not 
occur  as  a  substantive  in  any  pre-Christian  writer. 
Neither  does  it  occur  again  in  post-Christian  litera- 
ture until  the  days  of  Eusebius,  and  doubtfully 
then.  The  term  '  Itunoans,'  however,  as  the  name 
of  a  people,  is  frequently  mentioned.  The  hrst 
mention  among  Greek  writers  of  the  Ituiteans  is 
that  of  Eupolenius  (B.C.  150)  as  quoted  by  Eusebius 
{Praip.  Evan.  ix.  30).  Cicero  {Philip,  ii.  112) 
speaks  of  thera  as  a  predatory  people,  and  Cffisar 
(Bell.  Afr.  20)  calls  them  skilful  archers  (cf.  Jos. 
A7it.  XIII.  xi.  3  [Dindorf  reads  'Irovpalav ;  but  it  is 
commonly  agreed  that  this  is  incorrect,  and  Naber's 
and  Niese's  reading,  'Irovpalav,  is  preferred] ;  Strabo 
XVI.  ii.  10,  18,  20 ;  Dio  Cass.  xlix.  32.  5 ;  Appian, 
Civ.  V.  7 ;  also  VirgO,  Georg.  ii.  448 ;  Lucan, 
Pharsal.  vii.  230,  514). 

The  most  important  fact  brought  into  view  by 
the  history  of  the  Iturseans,  so  far  as  the  under- 
standing of  Lk  3'  is  concerned,  is  their  migratory 
character.  They  first  appear  as  the  sons  of  Jetur 
(Gn  25'^  1  Ch  1^'),  a  branch  of  the  race  of  Ishmael 


ITUR^A 


JACOB 


(cf.  artt.  'Jetvir'  and  '  l!>liniaer  in  Hastings' i)£). 
Tlieir  orir;inal  home  was  tlie  territory  to  the  S.E. 
of  Palestine.  In  the  course  of  tlieir  -wanderings 
they  drifted  nortlnvard,  and  some  time  before  the 
Exile  readied  the  country  adjacent  to  Israel,  east 
of  the  Jordan.  Late  in  the  2nd  cent.  B.C.,  Aristo- 
bulus  I.  conquered  certain  bands  of  non-Israelites 
■who  had  settled  in  Galilee,  and  compelled  them 
either  to  submit  to  circumcision  or  leave  the 
country.  It  has  been  conjectured  that  among 
these  there  were  some  Iturteans,  -who  moved  still 
fartlier  north.  At  any  rate,  in  the  next  generation 
the  Itura-ans  are  definitely  located  in  the  region  of 
Lebanon.  Strabo  (XVI.  ii.  10)  speaks  of  them  as 
inhabiting  the  '  mountain  country '  which  with 
Chalcis  and  Marsyas  was  ruled  by  Ptolemy  the 
son  of  Menna?us  (B.C.  85-40).  He  further  describes 
them  in  association  with  the  Arabs  as  '  all  lawless 
men  dwelling  in  the  mountain  region  of  the 
Libanus  and  anti-Libanus  territory,'  and  harassing 
tlie  agricultural  population  of  the  adjacent  plain. 
D.  vEniiliusSecundus,  a  millitary  commander  under 
Quirinius,  reports  that  in  a  campaign  against  the 
Itura;ans  in  the  Lebanon  range,  lie  had  stormed  a 
fortress  of  theirs  (Mommsen,  Ephemcris  Epigr.  iv. 
1881,  p.  538).  With  the  death  of  Ptolemy,  the 
government  of  this  entire  region  passed  into  the 
hands  of  his  son  Lysanias,  whom  accordingly  Dio 
Cassius  calls  '  king  of  the  Ituroeans '  (xlix.  32). 
Lysanias  was  put  to  death  by  Mark  Antony  in 
B.C.  34,  and  a  little  over  ten  years  later  (B.C.  23) 
this  territory  came,  by  way  of  a  lease,  imder  the 
control  of  a  chief  named  Zenodorus  (Jos.  Ant.  XV. 
■K.l;BJ  I.  XX.  4) ;  but  in  B.C.  20,  upon  the  death 
of  Zenodorus,  Augustus  gave  a  portion  of  it  to 
Herod  the  Great ;  and  when  Herod's  kingdom  was 
broken  up  among  his  heirs  into  tetrarchies,  it  fell 
to  the  lot  of  Philip  to  possess  it  (Jos.  Ant.  XV.  x.  3; 
BJ  II.  vi.  3).  Subsequently  to  the  mention  of 
Ituraaa  by  St.  Luke,  the  emperor  Caligula  be- 
stowed it  upon  a  certain  Soeraus  (A.d.  38),  entitled 
by  Tacitus  (Ann.  xii.  23)  and  Dio  Cassius  (lix.  12) 
'kin"  of  the  Itur;ean.s.'  From  A.D.  49,  the  date  of 
the  death  of  Soemus,  and  onwards,  the  country 
appears  as  a  part  of  the  province  of  Syria,  furnish- 
ing a  quota  of  soldiers  for  the  Koman  army  (Ephcm. 
Epigr.  1884,  p.  194). 

The  mention  of  Ituraja  by  St.  Luke  raises  the 
following  questions :  (1)  Did  he  use  the  term  as  a 
noun  or  as  an  adjective  1  This  is  partly  a  question 
of  correct  Greek  usage.  A  noun  '  Ituraia  would 
lie  a  lin;,'uistic  anachronism  at  the  time  of  St. 
Luke.  It  i>  unknown  until  the  4tli  cent. ;  but  that 
the  I'',van,L;i'li--t  tell  into  the  error  of  using  it  as 
sucli  is  ni.iintaiiicil  by  Schiirer  and  H.  Holtzmann, 
while  Kaiiisay  (Expos.,  Feb.  1894,  p.  144  ft.,  Apr. 
p.  288  if.),  contends  against  this  position.* 

(2)  Out  of  this  linguistic  question  grows  the 
historical  one :  Did  St.  Luke  speak  accurately 
when  he  enumerated  the  Ituriean  counti-y  as  a 


part  of  the  tetrarchy  of  Philip  ?  For  even  if  the 
Evangelist  did  use  the  word  '  ltura;a '  as  an  adjec- 
tive, it  does  not  follow  that  he  has  correctly  located 
the  country.  H.  Holtzmann  (Hand-Corn.  'Syn. 
Gosp.'  p.  58)  calls  it  an  error  that  Ituraea  should 
be  included  with  Trachonitis  in  Philip's  tetrarchy, 
and  explains  that  St.  Luke  probably  had  in  mind 
a  later  arrangement  of  the  territory  under  Agrippa. 
As  a  matter  of  fact,  Josephus  describes  the  tet- 
rarchy of  Philip  as  consisting  of  'Batanfia,  Tra- 
chonitis, Auranitis,  and  certain  parts  of  the  house 
of  Zeno  (Zenodorus)  about  Paneas  yielding  a 
revenue  of  one  hundred  talents'  (Ant.  XVII.  xi.  4; 
BJ  II.  vi.  3).  Ituroea  is  not  given  in  this  descrip- 
tion. But  it  does  not  seem  probable  that  St.  Luke, 
who  is  writing  with  so  mucli  regard  for  liistorical 
details,  should  have  failed  at  this  point.  Hence 
eflbrts  have  been  made  to  account  for  his  statement 
as  it  stands.  Of  these  it  is  easy  to  set  aside  as  futile 
(a)  the  identification  of  Iturtea  with  Jcchir  (a 
region  S.W.  of  Damascus),  as  etymologically  un- 
sound, and  as  not  corresponding  geographically  to 
the  descriptions  given  by  Strabo.  According  to 
these,  the  Iturfeans  lived  in  a  mountainous  region. 


Instead  of  'Ironpafas  he  would  read  Aipai/lriSos.  But 
in  order  to  get  this  substitution  he  assumes  that 
by  a  transcriptional  error  i5  was  dropped  from 
AiipavlTtdos,  and  the  remainder  of  the  word,  thus 
left  in  confusion,  was  by  another  transcriptional 
manipulation  converted  into  'Irovpalas.  Evidently 
this  IS  too  elaborate  and  too  purely  conjectural 
a  proceeding  to  be  accepted,  (c)  Statements  of 
Eusebius  (OH-  p.  268,  'Irovpaia  i]  Kai  T/saxuvms,  and 
p.  298,  TpaxuviTis  X^P"'  V  ""■^  'Irovpaia ;  cf.  also 
Jerome's  translation  of  the  same,  '  Trachonitis 
regio  sive  Itirrcea,'  Lib.  de  Situ,  etc.,  p.  238)  de- 
ftnitely  identify  Ituraea  and  Trachonitis,  and  have 
been  accepted  as  satisfactorily  removing  the  dif- 
ficulty.    The  terms  'Trachonitis'  and  'Ituraea'  do 


not,  however,  seem  to  be  used  by  the  Evangelist 
with  the  exact  equivalency  that  the  phraseology  of 
Eusebius  suggests.  Hence  (d)  it  is  best  not  to 
identify  Itursea  with  Trachonitis  as  a  whole,  but 
to  assume  a  certain  overlapping  of  the  two,  giving 
a  fairly  painstaking  writer  good  ground  for  con- 
necting them  together  in  the  attempt  to  present 
the  situation  broadly.  This  conclusion  is  supported 
by  the  constantly  changing  character  of  the  terri- 
tory occupied  by  the  Iturteans,  as  exhibited  in  the 
sketch  of  their  history  above  given,  as  well  as  the 
repeated  shifting  of  the  boundary  lines  in  this 
general  region  during  the  centuries  before  and 
after  Christ. 

Literature.— Munter,  de  Rebus  Iturceorum,  1824 ;  Schiirer, 
GJV^  i.  707 ff.  [HJP  I.  ii.  App.  i.);  Krenkol,  Josephw  «. 
Lukas,  1894,  pp.  90-95  ;  G.  A.  Smith,  art.  '  Itursa '  in  Hastings' 
DB,  and  Expos.  March  1894,  pp.  231-238;  Ramsay,  Expos. 
Jan.  1894,  p.  43  ff.,  Feb.  p.  144  ff.,  Apr.  p.  288 ff. 

A.  C.  Zenos. 


JACOB. — 1.  According  to  the  genealogical  list  in 
Matthew,  Jacob  ('laKii/j)  is  the  father  of  Joseph  the 
husband  of  Mary  (Mt  l'=->"). 

2.  One  of  the  reputed  progenitors  of  the  Jewish 
nation.     Apart  from  the  reference  to  Jacob's  well 

*  The  importance  of  this  conclusion  by  Professor  Ramsay, 
•apart  from  the  purely  academic  vindication  of  St.  Luke  as  a 
master  of  good  Greek,  is  that  it  establishes  an  analogy  for  the 
South-Calatian  theory  so  strenuously  advocated  by  himself. 


(irriyT]  rov  'IaKii;3,  see  next  art.),  in  Jn  4"^,  and  his 
place  in  the  genealogies  of  Matthew  and  Luke 
(Mt  1-,  Lk  3**),  Jacob  is  mentioned  in  the  Gospels 
only  as  one  of  the  three  patriarchs  (Mt  8"  '  Many 
shall  come  from  the  east  and  the  west ;  and  shall 
sit  down  with  Abraham  and  Isaac  and  Jacob  .  .  .' 
cf.  Lk  13^'-,  Mt  22^2  11  Mk  12-«,  Lk  20^'  'I  am  the 
(!od  of  Abraham,  and  the  God  of  Isaac,  and  the 
God  of  Jacob'),     These  three  were  grouped  from 


JACOB'S  WELL 


845 


early  times  ( Ex  2=^  3"-  '=• '«,  Lv  26«  1  K  183«,  2  K  13=^ 
Jer  33-",  1  Ch  29",  2  Ch  30»),  and  occupied  a  place 
apart  in  Jewish  thought.  According  to  the  Kabbis, 
they  alone  ■were  entitled  to  be  called  nin^  'fathers.' 
To  them  was  traced  not  only  the  origin  of  the 
nation,  but  also  the  beginning  of  true  worship.  As 
a  descendant  of  these  three,  a  Jew  might  claim 
nobility  and  a  special  relationship  to  God.  This 
claim  was  recognized  as  nbx  noi  '  righteousness  of 
the  fathers,'  and  was  based  oii  Ex  32'^  It  was 
denounced  by  John  the  Baptist  (see  Abraham,  and 
cf.  Mt  3',  Lk  3"),  and  it  figured  prominently  in  the 
conflicts  between  Jesus  and  the  Pharisees  (cf.  Jn 
g33.37)_  Apparently  in  the  time  of  Jesus  it  was 
liable  to  be  abused,  and  on  this  account  later 
Rabbis  refused  to  lay  stress  upon  it,  declaring  it 
no  longer  valid.  In  Rabbinic  literature,  Jacob  is 
recognized  as  the  most  important  of  the  three 
patriarchs  (cf.  Lv  26''=).  He  prevails  witli  God  (Gn 
32^).  He  names  the  sanctuary  the  house  of  God 
(28-2),  a,nd,  in  contrast  to  Abraham  the  father 
of  Ishmael,  and  Isaac  the  father  of  Esau,  Jacob 
inherits  the  promise  in  all  his  children  (49). 

Literature. — A  most  suggestive  analysis  of  the  character  of 
Jacob,  and  a  full  discussion  of  the  problems  of  the 
Genesis,  including  th  '  '      


'  La  Signification  Historique  des  Noms  des  Patriarches  H^breux ' 
in  Mimolres  de  la  Societti  Linguistiquc,  vi.  150. 

G.  Gordon  Stott. 

JACOB'S    WELL On  the  arrest  of   John  the 

Baptist  by  Herod  Antipas,  Jesus  left  Juda;a  and 
returned  with  His  loosely-attached  followers  to 
Galilee  (Mk  1").  He  travelled  by  '  the  great  north 
road '  through  Samaria.  Tliis  ruad,  after  skirting 
the  W.  edge  of  the  plain  of  Mukhneh,  and  passing 
under  the  slopes  of  Gerizim,  enters  the  wide  bay 
forming  the  approach  to  the  Vale  of  Nablus.  Here 
it  divides,  one  branch  striking  west,  the  other  going 
north  across  the  bay,  past  the  ruins  and  spring  of 
' Askar.  In  the  fork  of  these  roads  is  Jacob's  Well 
(Bir  YdkAb),  where  Jesus,  being  wearied  with  His 
journey, — it  was  about  the  hour  of  noon, — sat  down 
and  rested  (Jn  4"). 

The  well  is  described  (Jn  4=)  as  in  the  neighbour- 
hood of  '  a  city  of  Samaria  called  Sychar,  near  to 
the  parcel  of  ground  that  Jacob  gave  to  his  son 
Joseph.'  This  parcel  of  ground  (xiiplov)  is  evidently 
the  plot  referred  to  in  Gn  33'^-  '**  as  lying  '  before ' 
(or '  to  the  east  of ')  Shechem,  which  Jacob  purchased 
from  the  native  Shechemites  for  100  kcsUahs.  Some- 
where within  its  borders  the  bones  of  Joseph  were 
afterwards  buried  (Jos  24^-,  cf.  Ac  7'") :  and  the 
plot  came  to  have  for  the  N.  Kingdom  the  kind  of 
sanctity  that  Machpelah  had  for  the  Kingdom  of 
Judah.  It  is  nowhere  recorded  that  Jacob  dug  a 
well  here ;  but  the  fact  had  become  a  matter  of 
common  and  well-established  belief  by  the  time  of 
Jesus,  and  no  serious  doubt  has  since  been  raised 
as  to  the  origin  or  locality  of  the  well.  The  tradi- 
tional sites  of  Jacob's  Well  and  Joseph's  Tomb 
(a  little  to  the  N.)  are  acknowledged  by  Jews, 
Samaritans,  Christians,  and  Moslems  alike.  The 
tradition  for  the  well  goes  back  to  Eusebius  (OS, 
s.v.  'Sychar').     See  also  art.  Sychak. 

In  v.*_  the  well  is  called  ir7;77)  ('fountain')  toO 
'laKii^ :  in  v.'^  the  woman  refers  to  it  as  t6  ippiap 
('  the  cistern  or  pit ')  which  Jacob  (fave.  The  latter 
is  the  inore  exact  description,  inasmuch  as  it  '  is 
not  an  'ain,  a  well  of  living  water,  but  a  ber,  a 
cistern  to  hold  water '  (PEFSt,  1897,  p.  197).  Rain- 
water probably  formed  the  greater  part  of  its 
supply,  though  another  smaller  portion  may  have 
been  due  to  infiltration  from  the  surrounding  strata. 
This  would  partly  account  for  the  'great  local 
reputation'  of  the  water  'for  purity  and  flavour 
among  the  natives  of  El  'Askar  and  Nablus.'  The 
neighbouring    springs    were    '  heavy '    (or    hard), 


being  strongly  impregnated  with  lime,  while 
Jacob's  Well  contained  '  lighter '  (or  softer)  water, 
'cool,  palatable,  and  refreshing'  (G.  A.  Smith, 
HGHL  p.  676).  The  woman's  presence  at  the 
well  at  noon  may  have  been  due  to  the  fact  that 
she  was  seeking  water  for  workmen  on  the  ad- 
jacent cornlands,  rather  than  for  domestic  use 
(PEFSt,  1897,  p.  149).  The  sacred  associations  of 
the  spot,  together  with  the  '  real  excellence '  of  the 
water,  probably  drew  visitors  regularly  both  from 
"Askar  (J  mile  away)  and  from  Nablus  (Ij  miles 
distant),  in  spite  of  nearer  and  more  copious  sup- 
plies. 

The  true  mouth  of  the  well  is  several  feet  below 
the  surface,  and  beneath  a  ruined  vault,  which 
once  formed  part  of  the  ancient  cruciform  church 
mentioned  by  Arculph  (A.D.  700),  and  refened 
to  by  Jerome  (OS,  s.v.  'Sychar').  This  narrow 
opening,  4  ft.  long  and  just  wide  enough  to  admit 
the  body  of  a  man,  broadens  out  into  the  cylindri- 
cal tank  or  well  itself,  which  is  about  7i  ft.  in 
diameter  and  over  100  feet  deep  (G.  A.  Smith,  I.e. 
p.  373).  The  interior  appears  to  have  been  lined 
throughout  with  masonry,  and  thick  layers  of 
debris  cover  the  bottom.* 

If  the  uniform  tradition  as  to  the  well's  origin 
be  coiTect,  probably  the  incomer  Jacob  sank  this 
'  deep '  pit  to  avoid  collision  with  the  natives  among 
whom  he  settled.  A  well  of  his  own,  on  his  own 
gi'ound,  would  make  him  secure  and  independent. 

LiTERATHEE.— Hastings'  DS  ii.  o35  f. ;  Emyc.  BiU.  iv.  4829 ; 
Robinson,  BRP^  ii.  283 f. ;  Thomson,  LB  ii.  140 f. ;  Baedeker- 
Socin,  Pal.  216  f.;  Stanley,  SP  241;  G.  A.  Smith,  HGHL 
367  f.,  676  ;  Sanday,  Sacred  Sites,  31 «.,  91 ;  PEFMem.  ii.  172  f. ; 
PEFSt,  1897,  pp.  96,  149, 190  ;  Expos.  Times,  v.  [1893J  97f. 

A.  W.  Cooke. 
JAIRUS — 1.  The  name  ideipos  occurs  in  Mk  5" 
and  in  the  Lukan  parallel  (S*'),  but  not  in  Mt. 
(9'*).  Such  variants  as  '16,-qpo^,  'Idipo^,  'WCpoi  (as 
Cod.  N)  are  also  to  be  met  with  in  the  MSS.  It 
cannot  be  positively  identified  with  the  Heb.  name 
TNMas  in  Jg  10^  =  prob.  '  Jahweh  enlightens'),  the 
LXX  equivalent  of  which  is  variously  'ladp,  'la-Z/p, 
'latp,  by  simple  transcription.  In  favour  of  regard- 
ing 'Ideipo!  as  the  Grecized  form  of  the  Heb.  name 
is  the  fact  that  this  form  occurs  in  LXX  in  Est  2* 
for  tk;,  the  father  of  Mordecai  (Cod.  A,  by  a  curious 
slip,  has  larpdi),  as  also  in  the  Apocrypha  (Est  11"), 
where  the  EV  has  'Jairus'  as  the  name  of  the 
same  person.  In  any  case,  however,  analogy 
permits  the  adoption  of  'Jair'  as  the  English 
equivalent  of  'Jieipos ;  and  were  the  name  in 
familiar  vogue,  like  such  names  as  '  Paul,'  this 
would  naturally  be  its  form.  The  AV  'Jairus' 
follows  the  Vulg.  (Wyclif,  'Jayrus').  Note  the 
R V  '  Jairus,'  fixing  it  as  a  trisyllable ;  and  cf. 
other  modes  of  transcription,  as  e.ff.  'Jaeirus' 
(Tiventieth  Cent.  NT,  ed.  1904). 

Cheyne  (Ency.  Bill.  ii.  s.v.)  regards  the  name  as  unauthentic, 
'  the  spontaneous  invention  of  a  pious  and  poetic  imagination.' 
He  rejects  its  identification  with  OT  Tn;,  and  yet  he  does  not 
hesitate  to  explain  it  by  reference  to  Tj;;,  simply  because  the 
meaning  of  the  latter  term,  as  he  gives  it  ('he  will  awaken'), 
suits  his  theory  of  a  fanciful  creation  to  fit  the  drift  of  the  story. 
This  is  quite  arbitrary  and  precarious.  (Note,  the  name  "I'y 
occurs  in  1  Ch  205  as  the  K'rC  ;  EV  '  Jair '). 

2.  Jairus  is  described  in  Mk.  as  efs  ruv  apxtcvf- 
aydiyuf  (5"')  and  similarly  afterwards  as  apxi(rvi/d- 


yuyos.  Lk.'s  cSpx""  rqi  (nij'a7w7^s  (8^')  is  perhaps 
simply  explanatory  of  this  term  which  he  himself 
uses  later  (v.'").  Mt.  has  dpx^f  alone  (9'*);  but 
there  is  no  need  to  suppose  that  this  is  intended  to 
represent  Jairus  as  a  member  of  the  Sanhedrin,  or 
in  any  other  capacity  than  that  indicated  in  the 
other  Gospels.     The  brevity  and  conciseness  of  the 

•  Robinson  (in  1838)  gives  the  depth  as  105  feet ;  Anderson 
(in  1866)  and  Conder  (in  1875)  measured  75  feet.  Evidently 
d6bris  from  the  surface  accumulated  nather  quickly. 


846 


JAMES 


JAMES 


form  in  which  Mt.  gives  the  story 
plain  this  loose  use  of  ipx^v.  Wyclif's  'prince' 
here  is  due  to  the  Vulg.  jjrinceps,  and  elsewhere  he 
invariably  uses  'jirince  of  the  synagoge'  as=d/)xi- 
awayoiyos.  The  Vulg.,  however,  uses  archisyna- 
qogus  in  the  Markan  passage,  whilst  in  Lk  8*'  it 
has  principem  si/nagogw,  perhaps  through  the 
influence  of  the  phrase  in  v.'".  The  Gr.  term 
exactly  =  the  Heb.  title  nciiin  r^ii-i,  and  the  office 
held  by  Jairus  had  well-defined  functions.  Pre- 
eminently the  'ruler'  («/.  'president'  or  'leader') 
was  the  director  of  public  worship.  Schiirer  holds 
that  generally  there  was  '  but  one  archisynagogus 
for  each  synagogue'  [HJP  11.  ii.  65).  The  expres- 
sion used  in  Mk  5^^  quite  agrees  with  this,  as  it 
describes  the  class  to  which  Jairus  belonged  (one  of 
the  'synagogue-rulers'  or  'synagogue-presidents') 
rather  than  a  particular  body  of  '  rulers '  of  which 
he  was  a  member.  The  locality  of  the  synagogue 
in  which  he  held  office  is  not  definitely  indicated. 
See  artt.  Ruler  and  Synagogue. 

3.  In  the  triple  narrative  in  which  Jairus  figures, 
Mk  521-"=  Mt  9'8-=6  =  Lk  S^"*',  the  condensed  form 
of  Mt.'s  account  is  most  noticeable.  In  addition 
to  the  omission  of  the  ruler's  name  and  the  loose 
use  of  ipx^v  (see  above),  there  is  no  mention  of  the 
servant  who  met  our  Lord  and  Jairus  on  the  way 
with  the  news  that  the  child  was  dead  (Mk  5^  = 
Lk  8**).  In  harmony  with  this,  whilst  Mk.  says 
she  was  in  extremis  (iirxdrus  ?xf')>  and  Lk.  that 
she  'was  dying'  (awi$vri(TKev),  when  her  father 
came  to  Jesus,  Mt.  represents  her  as  already  dead 
(&/yri.  (TiKdniaev).  Perhaps,  as  a  matter  of  struc- 
ture, the  prefatory  link  in  Mt  9'^  may  be  com- 
pared with  the  phrase  in  Mk  5^^  (  =  Lk  8^')  Iti.  avroO 
XaXoOyTos,  with  a  bearing  on  this  point. 

Cheyne  thinks  the  Mt.  form  of  the  story  the  most  original, 
and  explains  the  representation  in  Mil.  on  this  point  as  due  to 
the  feeling  of  a  later  time  that  no  one  would  have  had  a  suffi- 
ciently bold  faith  to  ask  Jesus  to  restore  one  who  was  already 
dead.  So  far  as  that  goes,  however,  the  Markan  account  is 
parallel  with  the  situation  in  the  story  of  Lazarus  (Jail);  and 
we  have  no  other  instance  in  the  Gospels  besides  this  in  Mt.  of 
a  request  that  one  dead  should  be  restored  to  life.  Compres- 
sion still  best  accounts  for  the  form  in  JIatthcw.  The  account 
of  the  actual  restoration  to  life  is  also  given  with  the  greatest 

The  efibrt  to  explain  this  incident  as  a  case  of 
restoration  from  trance  is  not  quite  successful. 
Mk.'s  narrative  would  admit  of  such  an  interpreta- 
tion, but  Lk.'s  definite  phrases  in  vv.°'- ''  distinctly 
fix  the  sense  otherwise.  In  the  primitive  tradition 
the  daughter  of  Jairus  was  believed  to  have  been 
brought  back  from  death  to  life.  The  story  as  a 
whole  is  full  of  grace  and  beauty,  and  'belongs 
to  the  earliest  stratum  of  the  Gospel  tradition' 
(Cheyne,  Enct/.  Bibl.  ut  supra). 

J.  S.  Clemens. 

JAMES  (Heb.  ivr.,  Gr.  'la/cci^,  'Ici^^os.  The 
English  name  James  is  analogous  to  the  Portuguese 
Xayme  and  Gael.  Hamish). — The  name  does  not 
occur  in  the  OT  except  in  the  case  of  the  patriarch, 
but  had  become  common  in  NT  times,  and  is  borne 
by  several  persons  mentioned  in  the  Gospels.  Pass- 
ing orer  the  father  of  Joseph  the  husband  of  the 
Virgin  Mary,  according  to  St.  Matthew's  genealogy 
(Mt  1'"  where  the  form  is  'Iokw/S),  we  liave  — 
1.  James  the  father  (AV  'brother')  of  Judas,  Lk 
6'°  ('not  Iscariot,'  Jn  14",  the  Thadda-us  of  Mt. 
and  Mk.).  The  AV  translation  is  derived  from  the 
Latin  of  Beza,  and  is  due  to  a  confusion  of  this 
Judas  with  a  quite  diflerent  person,  Judas  (Jude) 
the  'brother  of  James'  (Jude^  Mt  13==).  The 
older  English  versions  have  either  'Judas  of 
James'  (Wyclif =Vulg.  ludam  lacobi)  or  'Judas 
James'  sonne'  (Tindale,  etc.).  Further,  St.  Luke's 
practice  is  to  insert  a.o(\<p6s  when  he  means 
'brother'  (Lk  3'  6",  Ac  12=).  Nothing  more  is 
known  of  this  James. 


2.  James  the  brother  of  John  (Mt  10-,  Mk  3", 
Lk  6",  Ac  1"),  elder  *  son  of  Zebedee,  a  well-to- 
do  t  Galilaean  fisherman,  most  probably  a  native  of 
Capernaum.  The  call  of  James  to  Apostlesliip  is 
related  in  Mt  4»i-  =2,  Mk  l'^-  -"  and  (perhaps)  Lk  5'o.t 
Tlie  two  sons  of  Zebedee  appear  to  have  been  part- 
ners (Koivavol,  /le'roxoi)  with  Peter  in  the  fishing 
industrj-.  Their  mother's  name  was  Salome,  who 
was  probably  a  sister  of  the  Virgin  Mary  (see 
art.  Salome).  The  two  brothers  received  from 
our  Lord  the  name  Boanerges  ('sons  of  thunder'), 
perhaps  because  of  their  impetuous  zeal  for  their 
JSIaster's  honour,  shown  by  incidents  like  the  wish 
to  call  down  fire  to  consume  certain  Samaritans 


who  refused  Him  a  passage  through  their  country 
(Lk  9=^;  cf.  Mk  ^,  Lk  9"-»).  James  is  specially 
mentioned  as  present  at  the  healing  of  Peter's 
wife's  mother  (Mk  1-'),  at  the  raising  of  Jairus' 
daughter  (Mk  5^),  at  the  Transfiguration  (Mk  9=), 
at  the  :Mount  of  Olives  during  the  great  '  eschato- 
logical'  discourse  (Mk  13^),  and  at  the  agony  in 
the  Garden  of  Gethsemane  (Mk  14^).  On  two  of 
these  occasions,  the  first  and  the  fourth,  Andrew 
is  associated  with  the  three  ;  but  on  all  the  others, 
Peter,  James,  and  John  are  alone  with  Christ. 
The  special  favour  accorded  to  the  two  brothers 
(and  perhaps  their  kinship  to  Jesus)  probably 
prompted  the  ambitious  request  of  Salome  that 
they  might  sit  as  assessors  to  Him  in  His  kingdom 
(Mk  lO^'-'",  Mt  20-"-^).  James  was  called  upon  to 
'  drink  the  cup '  of  suftering  (Mk  10^-  *")  first  of  all 
the  Apostolic  band,  being  beheaded  by  Herod 
Agrippa  I.  in  A.  P.  44  (Ac  12=).  An  untrustworthy 
tradition  represents  him  as  preaching  the  gospel 
in  Spain,  of  which  country  he  is  patron  saint. 
Eusebius  {HE  ii.  9)  relates,  on  the  authority  of 
Clement  of  Alexandria,  that,  when  he  was  tried 
for  his  life,  his  accuser  was  so  greatly  affected  by 
his  constancy  that  he  declared  himself  a  Christian, 
and  died  with  him  after  obtaining  his  forgiveness 
and  blessing.     See,  further,  Hastings'  DB  ii.  541. 

3.  James  the  son  of  Alphseus,  one  of  the  Twelve 
(Mt  10^  Mk  31s,  Lk  6'^  Ac  1^^).  In  each  list  he 
stands  at  the  head  of  the  third  group  along  with 
Simon  Zelotes  (with  whom  he  is  coupled  by  St. 
Luke),  Judas  of  James  (  =  Thaddteus,  Avith  whom 
he  is  coupled  by  Mt.  and  Mk.),  and  Judas  Iscariot. 
The  Gospels  tell  us  nothing  more  about  him,  but 
he  was  most  likely  a  brother  of  Matthew,  who 
also  was  a  '  son  of  Alpha^us '  (cf.  Mt  Q**  with  Mk  2'''). 
He  has  been  identified  with  (4)  and  (5) ;  but  the 
probabilities  seem  to  the  present  writer  to  be 
against  the  former  identification,  while  the  latter 
is  almost  certainly  wrong. 

i.  James  6  yaixpis  §  (Mk  15^»;  cf.  Mt  27=^  Jn  19=»). 
He  is  mentioned  as  the  son  of  a  Mary,  probably 
the  wife  of  Clopas,  one  of  the  four  women,  of 
whom  the  other  three  were  Mary  the  Lord's  mother, 
Mary  Magdalene,  and  Salome,  present  at  the  cruci- 
fixion.     This  ^lary,   with   Mary   Magdalene,  re- 

*  The  usual  order  is  '  James  and  John.'  St.  Luke  sometimes 
inverta  it  (8^1  92^,  Ac  113),  probably  because  of  the  early  death 
of  James  and  the  subsequent  prominence  of  John. 

t  He  had  'hired  servants'  (Mk  120).  His  wife  was  one  of 
those  who  ministered  to  Christ  'of  their  substance'  (Mk  15-", 
Lk  83). 

'     "       ■-      -    ■  ^,j  narrative  refers  to  the 

"    "■•')  ilk.  is  not  easy  to 

and  other  commen- 

'.rc-swell,etc.,inthc 

■nat.  Crit.   Com.)  is 

:l  ition  of  the  Markan 

-1-  '.      The  characteristic 

(1)  tliere  is  no  mention  of 

Peter  is  the  prominent  figure ;  (3) 


X  The  question  whether  1 


A.  Wriglit  r.  _ 
with   that  Umi 

Zebedee ;  (2)  ! 


P 
there  is  no  command  to  follow  Christ ;  (4)  the  fishermen 
washing  (not  casting  or  mending)  their  nets ;  (5)  there 
miraculous  draught  of  fishes. 
§  St.  Jerome' 


■endering  minor  (Vulg.  Maria  Jacobi  minoris)^ 


JAMES 


JEALOUSY 


847 


mained  to  see  where  Jesus  was  buried.  She  had 
another  son  Joseph.  Those  who  identify  this 
James  with  (3)  argue  that  Alpha>us  ('AX^aios,  'S^n) 
andClopas  (KXai?ras)ai-e  twofonnsof  thesamename 
(Meyer,  Alford).  Philologically  this  is  improbable. 
Tlie  extant  Syriac  Versions  render  'AlpliEeus'by 
Chalpai,  while  '  Clopas '  is  rendered  by  Kleopha. 
Nor  can  it  be  said  to  be  absolutely  certain  that 
Tl  ToO  KXtoTo,  of  Jn  19-'*  means  the  wife  of  Clopas. 
It  may  mean  '  daughter  of  Clopas.'  And  it  is 
unlikely  that  St.  Mark  would  describe  James  the 
son  of  Alphceus  by  a  new  designation,  James  'the 
Little'  (in  stature).*  Moreover,  it  is  hard  to  .see 
why  St.  John,  writing  for  readers  acquainted  with 
the  Synoptic  Gospels,  should  introduce  into  his 
Gospel  the  name  Clopas  if  he  meant  Alphreus. 
On  the  whole,  therefore,  we  must  conclude  with 
Ewald  (Hist,  of  Israel,  vi.  305,  note  4)  that  the 
identification  is  unlikely.t  Of  this  James  we 
know  nothing  further. 

S.  James  the  Lord's  brother.  He  is  mentioned 
by  name  twice  in  the  Gospels  (Mt  13=',  Mk  6=). 
He  is  the  eldest  of  four  brothers,  James,  Joseph, 
Judas,  and  Simon  (Simon  and  Judas,  Mt  13'^). 
Other  references  to  the  Brethren  of  the  Lord  are 
found  in  Mt  12^'^,  ISIk  33'-^  Lk  »^-"-\  Jn  7' ^ 
From  these  passages  we  learn  that  they  thought 
Him  mad,  and  opposed  His  work.  St.  John  tells 
us  plainly  that  His  brethren  did  not  believe  in 
Him. 

The  following  passages  outside  the  Gospels  have 
to  do  with  this  James:  1  Co  15',  Ac  1'^  12"  15 
(passim)  21i'-2=,  Gal  !"•  "  2>-"'  ;  Jos.  Ant.  XX. 
ix.  1  ;  Eusebius,  HE  ii.  1  (quotation  from  Clement 
of  Alexandria),  ii.  23  (quotation  from  Hegesippus), 
vii.  19  ;  Jerome,  de  Vir.  Hliis.  (quotation  from  the 
Gospel  according  to  the  Hebrews) ;  Clementine 
Homilies  (ad  init.) ;  Apostolic  Constitutions,  viii.  35. 
From  these  passages  we  learn  that  he  was  converted 
to  a  full  acknowledgment  of  Christ  (probably  by 
the  Resurrection),  that  the  Lord  appeared  to  him 
specially,  that  he  became  head  of  the  Church  of 
Jerusalem,  and  that  he  was  put  to  death  by  the 
Jews  either  just  before  the  siege  (Hegesippus)  or 
some  ten  years  earlier  (Josephus).  He  was  sur- 
named  the  Just  by  his  fellow-countrymen,  and  was 
greatly  respected  by  all  clas-ses  in  Jerusalem. 

The  Epistle  bearing  his  name,  which  is  almost 
universally  attributed  to  the  brother  of  the  Lord, 
is  of  the  greatest  interest  to  students  of  the 
Gospels.  There  is  no  Epistle  which  contains  in  a 
small  compass  so  many  allusions  to  the  teaching 
of  Christ  subsequently  contained  in  the  Gospels  as 
we  have  them.  The  following  list  includes  all  the 
more  striking  parallels  :  Mt  5'-  '•  "■  "■  -■  '"''■'''  =  Ja 
25. 1331812.19512.  Mt6"'-2-'  =  ,Ja5=4^;  Mt  7'- '-'■'=•""* 
= Ja  4"-'2  P  2"  3"- '-  1"  (all  these  are  from  the 
Sermon  on  the  Mount).  Cf.  also  Mt  12'"  with  Ja 
31-2,  Mt  18"  with  Ja  4« ;  Lk  6=^  =  Ja  5' ;  Lk  12"'-=i  = 
Ja  4"  ;  Lk  8'^  21'^  (mofiovr],  used  by  Lk.  only  in  the 
Gospels)  =  Ja  P- •<  5"  ;  Jn  3'  =  Ja  1";  Jn  8*-3'  =  Ja 
1^  ;  Jn  13"  =  Ja  4".$  On  these  passages  it  may  be 
remarked  (1)  that,  while  some  of  the  parallels  may 
be  explained  as  coincidences,  there  remain  others 
which  even  Renan  (l' Antichrists,  p.  54)  admits  to 
be  reminiscences  of  the  words  of  Jesus;  (2)  that  the 
evidence  is  cumulative,  and  includes  correspondence 
in  teaching  (e.g.  on  riches,  formalism,  prayer)  as 
well  as  in  language ;  (3)  that  the  most  striking 
p.arallels  are  with  the  Gospel  according  to  St. 
Matthew,  and  with  the  earlier  parts  of  that,  sug- 
gesting the  possibility  that  James  may  at  first 

*  fuxpi!  may  also  mean  'young'  (Deissmann,  Bible  Studies, 
Eng.  tr.  144). 

t  Ewald,  however,  identifies  Clopas  with  Cleopas  (a  Greek 
name),  Lk  2418. 

I  Fuller  lists  will  he  found  in  Mayor,  Epistle  of  St.  James  (ind 
ed.),  Ixxxv-lxxxviii  ;  Salmon,  Introduction  to  NT,  456  (5th  ed.) ; 
Zahn,  EinleituTig,  i.  p.  87 ;  Knowling,  St.  James,  xxi-xxiii. 


have  been  a  hearer  of  our  Lord,  and  making  it 
fairly  certain  that  he  was  acquainted  with  the 
special  Matthiean  'source.' 

A  second  point  to  be  noticed  is  that  the  Epistle 
of  James  is  clearly  the  work  of  one  trained  in  the 
strict  observance  of  the  Law,  while  at  the  same 
time  his  obedience  to  it  is  the  obedience  of  zealous 
love,  as  far  removed  as  possible  from  the  Pharisaic 
formalism  denounced  by  our  Lord  (Ja  1^^""  2*-''' 
45-7  gio.  11)  Both  in  his  case  and  in  that  of  St.  Paul, 
although  they  developed  on  somewhat  different 
lines,  the  Law  was  a  TraiSayuyb^  eh  Xpiarbv.  This 
view  of  the  training  of  James,  and  consequently  of 
our  Lord  his  Brother,  is  confirmed  by  the  Gospels. 
The  names  of  the  four  brothers,  James,  Joseph, 
Simon  (  =  Simeon),  and  Jude  (=Judah),  are  those 
of  patriarchs.  The  parents  are  careful  to  observe 
the  Law  in  our  Lord's  case  (Lk  2---''-*-  ^-  '"•■'2). 

The  Western  Church,  in  regarding  James  the 
Lord's  brother  as  identical  with  James  the  son  of 
Alphseus,  seems  to  have  been  influenced  by  the 
authority  of  Jerome,  who,  in  replying  to  Helvidius 
(circa  383  A.D.),  urges  that,  as  James  the  Lord's 
brother  is  called  an  Apostle  by  St.  Paul  (Gal  1'*- "), 
he  must  be  identified  with  James  the  son  of 
Alphajus,  since  James  the  son  of  Zebedee  was  dead ; 
and,  further,  that  he  was  our  Lord's  first  cousin. 
(Jerome  does  not  identify  Alpliseus  with  Clopas). 
But  it  may  be  observed  (1)  that  Jerome  himself 
seems  to  have  abandoned  this  view  (Ep.  cxx.  ad 
Hedibiam);  (2)  that  ade\-p6s  never  =  d>'£i^i6s  in  the 
NT ;  (3)  that  James  the  brother  of  the  Lord  is 
always  distinguished  from  the  Twelve  (Jn  2'^,  Ac 
1" ;  cf.  Mt  12"-™)  ;  (4)  that  '  His  brethren  did 
not  believe  in  him '  ( Jn  7'-  °) ;  (5)  that  the  word 
a.ir6(rTo\ot,  on  which  Jerome  relies,  is  not  confined 
to  the  Twelve  (Ac  14"-  ",  1  Co  15""').*  [For  a  fuller 
discussion  of  the  question  see  the  article  Brethren 
OF  THE  Lord]. 

Literature. —Besides   the   authorities    quoted    above, 


of  British  theologians) ;  Herzog,  >JJ£3  (by  Sieffert,  with  Biblio- 


Commentar,  Freiburg,  1890),   Plummer  (in  Expositor's  Bible, 
1891) ;  W.  Patrick,  James  the  Lord's  Brother,  1906. 

H.  W.  FULFORD. 

JANNAL— One  of  the  links  in  the  Lukan  gene- 
alogy of  our  Lord  (Lk  3^). 

JARED. — Father  of  Enoch,  named  in  our  Lord's 
genealogy  (Lk  3^'). 

JEALOUSY.— This  word  is  not  used  in  the 
Gospels,  though  Jn  2"  has  6  ^tjXos  toO  o!kov  irov= 
51ip'3  nx^p  (Ps  69")  =  ' jealousy  for  thy  house';  and 
one  of  Jesus'  disciples  was  Simon  6  fTjXuT-^s  (Lk  6"', 
Ac  l'')  =  Simon  6  Kayafalos  (Mk  3"),  a  man  who 
had  belonged  to  that  party  in  the  Jewish  State 
which  was  so  jealous  for  the  sole  sovereignty  of 
God  in  Israel  that  it  regarded  the  recognition  of 
any  other  (e.g.  by  paying  tribute  to  Caisar)  as  a 
form  of  treason.  But  the  thing  which  the  OT 
means  by  nxjp,  in  all  its  aspects,  is  everywhere 
present  in  the  NT,  and  especially  in  the  Gospels. 

1.  The  jealousy  of  God  in  the  OT  is  connected 
with  the  truth  that  He  is  God  alone,  and  it  is  ex- 
pressed mainly  in  two  ways.  First,  in  the  exclu- 
sive claims  which  He  makes  for  Himself:  '  Thou 
shalt  have  no  other  gods  before  me'  (Ex  20'); 
'  Thou  shalt  love  the  Lord  thy  God  with  all  thy 

♦  In  favour  of  the  identification  of  (3),  (4),  and  (5)  it  is  some- 
times urged  that  it  is  unlikely  there  would  be  four  persons,  all 
named  James,  closely  connected  with  our  Lord.  But  it  must 
be  remembered  (1)  that  the  name  was  certain  to  be  popular 
among  patriotic  Jews;  (2)  that  'Jewish  names  In  ordinary  use 
at  that  time  were  very  few'  (Liffhtfoot,  Ualatians,  p.  208). 
Twelve  persons  are  mentioned  in  the  NT  as  bearing  the  name 
Simon  (Simeon),  and  nine  that  of  Joscj>h  (Joses). 


848 


JEALOUSY 


JERICHO 


heart,'  etc.  (Dt  6'^);  'I  am  the  Lord,  that  is  my 
name ;  and  my  glory  will  I  not  give  to  another, 
neither  my  praise  unto  graven  images'  (Is  42*). 
Tliis  exclusiveness  or  intolerance  of  God  —  His 
jealousy _/br  Himself,  as  it  may  be  called — pervades 
the  OT.  It  is  the  source  of  that  compulsion  which 
He  puts  upon  the  human  race  to  learn  the  most 
important  lesson  which  the  mind  is  capable  of  re- 
ceiving, that  there  is  one  only,  the  living  and  true 
God.  This  is  the  presupposition  not  only  of  all 
uplifting  religion,  but  of  all  science,  and  of  all 
morality  which  rises  above  caste  and  convention  ; 
and  what  we  see  in  the  OT  is  the  jealousy  of  God 
working  monotheism  into  the  constitution  of  a  race 
wlio  .sliunld  impart  it  to  the  world.  In  this  sense 
tlie  jealousy  of  God  is  represented  in  the  mind  of 
Chri^^t  by  tlie  e.xclusive  claims  which  He  makes  for 
Himself,  and  in  the  rest  of  the  NT  by  the  reitera- 
tion of  these  claims  through  the  lips  of  His  dis- 
ciples. Sometimes  the  expression  of  it  is  informal : 
e.g.  '  He  that  loveth  father  or  mother  more  than 
me  is  not  worthy  of  me '  (Mt  10") ;  or,  '  Blessed  is 
he  whosoever  shall  find  none  occasion  of  stumbling 
in  me'  (11'').  Sometimes,  again,  it  is  quite  explicit: 
'  No  one  knoweth  the  Son  save  the  Father  ;  neither 
doth  any  know  the  Father  save  the  Son,  and  he  to 
whomsoever  the  Son  willeth  to  reveal  him'  (11"'). 
In  the  Fourth  Gospel  this  tone  predominates,  and 
there  could  not  be  more  precise  and  formal  expres- 
sions of  the  jealousy  of  God,  as  God  is  revealed  in 
Christ,  than  are  found,  e.g.,  in  Jn  1'^  8^  14*  (.see 
art.  Preaching  Christ).  This  jealousy  of  God  for 
Himself  is  echoed  in  passages  like  Ac  4'-  ('  There  is 
none  other  name,'  etc.),  1  Co  3"  ('  Other  foundation 
can  no  man  lay,'  etc.).  Gal  1*'-  ('Though  we  or  an 
angel  from  heaven  should  preach  unto  you  any 
other  gospel,'  etc.  :  the  peculiarity  of  the  Pauline 
as  opposed  to  the  Judaizing  gospel  being  that  it 
ascribed  the  whole  of  salvation  to  Christ  alone,  and 
did  not  share  His  glory  with  the  Law),  and  2  Jn  "'•. 

The  second  way  in  which  the  jealousy  of  God 
expresses  itself  in  the  OT  is  in  God's  unreserved 
identification  of  Eitmelf  with  His  people.  It  is  a 
jealousy  for  them,  in  which  their  cause  is  His,  in 
which  His  honour  (if  such  a  word  can  be  used  in 
such  a  connexion)  is  touched  if  tliey  are  wronged, 
in  which  His  love  rises  into  passion,  and  takes  on 
itself  responsibilities  for  them  of  %\ hitli  they  would 
not  have  dared  to  think.  Sometimes  this,  too,  is 
informally  expressed :  e.g.  '  He  that  toucheth  you 
toucheth  the  apple  of  his  eye'  (Zee  2*).  Some- 
times it  is  quite  explicit :  e.g.  the  great  Messianic 
promises  of  Is  9'"-  are  sealed  in  v.'  by  '  The  jealousy 
of  Jahweh  of  hosts  shall  do  this''  Cf.  also  the 
.striking  passage  Zee  8-^-  All  this  is  reproduced  in 
the  mind  and  words  of  Jesus.  He  is  jealous  for 
His  people,  especially  for  'the  little  ones'  (who, 
liowever,  are  not  so  much  a  class  of  Christians,  as 
Christians  generally — a  weak  and  inconsiderable 
folk  in  ordinary  eyes),  and  nothing  that  concerns 
them  is  alien  to  Him.  The  very  slightest  service 
done  thera  has  a  reward  solemnly  assured  to  it 
(Mt  lO'^) ;  the  sin  of  causing  one  of  them  to 
stumble  is  denounced  -vrith  a  passion  which  startles 
us  still  as  we  read  (18'*) ;  cf.  art.  Anger,  2  («)• 
The  most  thrilling  illustration  of  this  jealousy  of 
Jesus  for  His  'little  ones'  is  given  in  the  Final 
Judgment :  '  Inasmuch  as  ye  did  it  (or,  did  it  not) 
to  one  of  these  least,  my  brethren,  ye  did  it  {or, 
did  it  not)  un^o  me '  (25'"'-  ^).  Jealous  love  can  go 
no  further  than  this. 

2.  Since  God,  especially  God  revealed  in  Christ, 
is  in  this  twofold  sense  a  jealous  God,  it  is  clear 
that  there  niu.st  be  in  the  Christian  religion  and 
c-haracter  a  corresponding  intensity  and  passion. 
Christians  ought  to  be  jealous  for  Christ,  sensitive 
to  all  that  dishonours  Him,  and  especially  to  all 
that  degrades  Him  from  the  place  which  He  claims. 


and  which  belongs  to  Him  alone.  The  NT  gives 
Him  what  He  demands,  the  name  which  is  above 
every  name ;  and  it  is  inconsistent  with  jealousy 
for  Him  to  give  Him  only  a  name  alongside  of  other 
names — to  classify  Him,  as  is  often  done,  with 
prophets  or  religious  heroes  or  founders  of  religions. 
Jealousy,  no  doubt,  is  apt  to  be  a  turbid  virtue ; 
the  OT  examples  of  it — Phinehas,  Elijah,  and  Jehu 
— all  illustrate  this ;  and  even  in  Christian  history 
jealousy  for  Jesus  as  sole  Lord  and  Saviour  has 
often  been  confounded  with  zeal  for  a  definition  of 
one's  own  making,  or  for  the  predominance  of  one's 
ovra  ecclesiastical  or  political  faction.  Of  all  vir- 
tues, it  is  the  one  which  most  readily  calls  the  old 
man  into  the  field  to  reinforce  the  new,  a  process 
which  always  ends  in  disaster.  Nevertheless,  it  is 
the  primary  virtue  of  a  Christian,  just  as  the  keep- 
ing of  the  first  commandment  was  the  primary 
virtue  of  a  Jew. 

3.  Apart  from  their  use  in  the  sense  of  an  ardent 
and  exclusive  devotion  to  God  in  Christ,  and  to  the 
cause  of  Christ  in  His  people  (2  Co  11-),  the  associa- 
tions of  the  words  f^Xos,  fijXoD;'  in  the  NT  are  rather 
repellent.  Sometimes  ^fiKos  is  anger  (Ac  5"),  the 
Heb.  n>fii?  being  at  least  once  rendered  0vii6%  in 
LXX ;  often  it  is  envy  (Ac  13«  :  so  the  verb  7"  17=) ; 
in  this  sense,  too,  it  is  frequently  combined  with 
IpLi  (Ko  1313,  1  Co  33,  2  Co  12-'',  Gal  5=") ;  only  rarely 
does  it  denote  a  keen  and  affectionate  interest 
(2  Co  7'" ").  But  this  last  sense  is  the  one  which 
is  really  congruous  with  the  fundamental  import  of 
jealousy  as  the  sense  of  self-respect  and  of  honour 
in  the  God  who  is  revealed  in  Christ  as  Love. 

James  Denney. 

JECHONIAH.— Also  called  in  OT  Jehoiachin  and 
Coniah ;  mentioned  in  Mt  !"'•  as  a  link  in  our 
Lord's  genealogy. 

JEHOSHAPHAT.— A  king  of  Judah,  named  in 
our  Lord's  genealogy  (^It  1"). 

JERICHO  was  situated  in  the  valley  of  the  Jordan, 
about  5  miles  west  of  the  river  and  about  6  north 
of  the  Dead  Sea.  The  distance  between  Jerusalem 
and  Jericho  was  about  17  miles.  The  immediate 
vicinity  enjoyed  the  advantage  of  abundant  springs 
(2  K  2'^-),  and  showed  great  fertility.  It  was  the 
'  city  of  palms '  (Dt  34',  2  Ch  28'=),  and  Josephus 
gives  an  enthusiastic  account  of  the  abundance 
and  variety  of  its  products  (BJ  IV.  viii.  2,  3). 

"I^e  Jericho  which  was  destroyed  by  Joshua  was  a  con- 
siderable town,  characterized  by  the  wealth  of  its  inhabitants 
and  the  strength  of  its  fortifications  (Jos  6  and  7).  The  re- 
building of  the  city  is  described  in  1  K  16»>,  but  the  place  is 
referred  to  at  earlier  dates  (Jos  182',  2  S  105, 1  ch  195).  a  school 
of  prophets  was  established  at  Jericho  (2  K  2=),  and  it  was  from 
Jericho  that  Elijah  and  Elisha  went  down  to  Jordan.  Other 
references  are  found  in  2  Ch  2815,  2  K  255,  jer  395,lEzr  2»>,  Neh 

In  the  time  of  our  Lord,  Jericho  was  a  large  and 
important  town.  Antony  granted  the  revenues  of 
Jericho  and  the  surrounding  district  to  Cleopatra, 
and  these  were  farmed  from  her  by  Herod  the 
Great.  Afterwards  Herod  received  Jericho  by  gift 
from  Augustus,  and  erected  a  citadel,  which  he 
called  Cypros,  above  the  town.  He  also  built 
within  the  city  a  palace,  in  which  he  died.  This 
palace  was  rebuilt  by  Herod  Archelaus  after  it 
had  been  burned  down  by  Simon  during  the 
troubles  which  followed  upon  the  death  of  Herod 
the  Great  (Jos.  Ant.  XVII.  x.  6  and  xiii.  1).  After 
the  deposition  of  Herod  Archelaus  as  tetrarch  of 
Juda?a,  Jericho  was  held  directly  by  the  Roman 
procurator,  who  farmed  out  its  revenues. 

Modem  Jericho  (er-Riha)  is  a  miserable  village  of  300  in- 
habitants ;  the  forest  of  palms  has  entirely  disappeared,  and 
only  here  and  there  can  traces  of  the  former  fertility  of  the 
district  be  seen.  The  exact  site  of  the  Catiaanite  Jericho  does 
not  correspond  with  that  of  the  modem  village,  and  probably 


\ 


JERUSALEM 


JERUSALEM 


849 


there  were  two  towns,  a  little  apart  from  one  another,  which, 
during  the  prosperity  of  the  Roman  occupation,  may  have  been 
united  by  continuous  building. 

By  tradition,  Jericho  has  been  closely  associated 
with  the  Baptism  of  Jesus  and  the  Temptation. 
The  site  of  Bethany  or  Bethabara  (wh.  see),  how- 
ever, cannot  be  fixed  with  certainty,  and  some 
(e.g.  Conder)  maintain  that  the  ford  east  from 
Jericho  cannot  be  the  place,  but  rather  a  ford 
farther  north,  lying  east  from  Cana  of  Galilee.  The 
traditional  scene  of  the  Temptation  is  a  mountain 
called  from  this  association  Quarantania,  lying  to 
the  west  of  Jericho.  But  the  uncertainty  of  the 
scene  of  the  Baptism  and  the  vagueness  of  the 
phrase  'the  wilderness'  (Mt  4^  ||)  make  this  a 
matter  of  tradition  only. 

From  Jericho  to  Jerusalem  there  are  three  roads. 
The  central  one  of  these  is  the  most  direct,  and 
was  that  used  by  pilgrims  going  from  Galilee  to 
Jerusalem,  who  took  the  circuitous  route  in  order 
to  avoid  entering  Samaria.  It  is  an  extremely 
arduous  path,  and  wayfarers  were  much  exposed  to 
the  attacks  of  robbers,  who  easily  found  secure  con- 
cealment among  the  bare  and  rugged  hills  which 
it  traversed  :  a  fact  which  gives  vividness  to  the 
parable  of  the  Good  Samaritan  (Lk  10™).  This 
road  was  that  which  Jesus  took  on  His  last  journey 
to  Jerusalem.  After  the  raising  of  Lazarus,  Jesus 
and  His  disciples  withdrew  'into  a  city  called 
Ephraira'CJulP-").  (On  its  site  see  art.  Ephraim). 
From  this  place  Jesus  could  see  the  pilgrim  bands 
from  Galilee  going  do^vn  to  Jericho  on  their  way 
to  Jerusalem.  And  in  all  probability,  when  '  the 
Passover  was  nigh  at  hand,'  He  joined  one  of  these 
bands,  and  so  paid  that  visit  to  Jericho  with  which 
the  names  of  Bartimseus  and  Zacchajus  are  as- 
sociated.    See  artt.  Baetim^US  and  Zacch^us.* 

Literature.— Stanley,  SP  ch.  vii.  pp.  305,  316 ;  G.  A.  Smith, 
HGHL  264,  268,  -193,  496;  Hastings'  DB,  artt.  'Jericho, 
'Ephraim,'  'Bethabara';  Farrar,  Life  of  Christ,  ii.  178-186. 

Andrew  N.  Bogle. 
JERUSALEM.— 

2.  Natural  site. 

3.  Climate  and  Diseases. 

4.  Water  supply. 

5.  Topography. 


History  of  the  city  during 
Jerusalem  in  the  Gospels. 
Literature. 


period  of  the  Gospels. 


1.  Name. — This  appears  in  the  Gospels  a,s'lepoa-6- 
Xi'/ia  and'IfpowaXij/x.  The  former  of  these  names, 
and  the  more  used,  appears  to  have  come  into 
common  vogue  a  century  or  so  before  the  com- 
mencement of  the  Christian  era.  It  occurs  in 
2  Maccabees  (3"),  in  the  Letter  of  Aristeas,  and  in 
Strabo,  and  it  is  the  form  always  employed  by 
Josephus.  In  Latin  Pagan  writers,  c.rj.  Cicero, 
Pliny,  Tacitus,  it  is  employed  transliterated  as 
Hierosolyma.  'lepovaoK-qiJ.  unquestionably  is  much 
nearer  to  the  Hebrew  a^vyv,  however  this  was 
vocalized,  and  is  therefore  the  more  primitive.  St. 
Luke  specially  emi)loys  this  both  in  his  Gospel 
and  in  the  Acts  It  is  noticeable  that  it  is  the 
form  put  mto  the  mouth  of  Jesus  \\  hen  His  words 
are  professedly  rt ported  \Libatim  (Mt  23",  Lk  13^* 
23-").  The  namo  Juu^ali  m,  as  used  throughout 
the  Western  \voild,  and  the  Ar-iluc  form  used  in 
Palestine  today,  Yetusalim,  aie  both  derived 
from  this  Greek  form  In  Mt  4-'  27^^'  we  have  the 
expression,  used  previously  too  in  the  OT,   'the 

•The  statemtnt  i  n  |  i  (I  i  t  with  m  connexion  with 
our  Lord's  trcui  i  1   iKo  in  connexion  with 

the  parable  of  til    t        I  i  hit  Jericho  w.as  a  sacer- 

dotal city.     In  1       Ml     u  11  un  that  the  priests  and 

Levites  did  m  t  ill  i  I  n  I  i  i  il  mi  but  were  scattered 
throughout  the  touui  and  mI1i„is  of  Judaea  Jericho,  as 
within  easy  reach  of  Jerusalem  and  an  important  place,  may 
have  been  a  favourite  lesidenoe  for  the  priests  (see  Schurer, 

VOL.  1  —54 


holy  city.'  Tliis  is  familiar  to  us  in  Western 
lands,  but  it  is  also,  for  other  reasons,  the  name 
for  Jerusalem  throughout  the  Moslem  world.  El- 
Kucls,  or,  more  classically,  el-Miikaddas,  'the 
sanctuary '  or  '  holy  place,'  is  the  common  name  for 
this  city  in  the  East. 

2.  Natural  site.— Modern  Jerusalem  occupies 
a  situation  whicli  is  defined  geographically  as  ZV 
46'  45'  N.  lat.  by  35°  13'  25"  long.  E.  of  Greenwich, 
and  lies  at  levels  between  2300  and  2500  feet  above 
the  Mediterranean.  It  is  overlooked  by  some- 
what higher  ground  to  the  N.,  to  the  E.,  and  the 
South.  On  the  West  the  outlook  is  somewhat  more 
open,  but  even  here  the  view  is  not  very  extensive  ; 
only  along  a  narrow  line  to  the  S.E.  a  gap  in  the 
mountains  exposes  to  view  a  long  strip  of  the 
beautiful  mountains  of  Moab  across  the  Dead  Sea, 
itself  invisible  in  its  deep  basin.  Although  the 
exact  situation  of  the  city  has  varied  considerably 
during  historical  times,  yet  the  main  natural 
features  which  gave  Jerusalem  its  strength — 
and  its  weakness  —  both  as  a  fortress  and  as  a 
sanctuary,  may  be  easily  recognized  to  -  day. 
Built,  as  it  has  been,  in  a  peculiarly  bare  and 
ill-watered  region,  oil'  the  natural  lines  of  com- 
munication, it  could  never  have  enjoyed  its  long 
and  famous  history  but  for  certain  compensating 
advantages. 

The  city's  site  lies  slightly  to  the  east  of  the 
great  mountainous  backbone  of  Palestine,  upon  a 
tongue-shaped  ridge  running  from  N. W.  to  S.E. 
This  '  tongue '  is  the  central  of  three  branches 
given  off  at  this  point.  The  N.E.  one  terminates  . 
opposite  the  city  as  the  Mount  of  Olives,  \vhile  a 
southern  branch,  given  off  near  the  highest  point 
before  the  modern  Jaffa  road  commences  to  descend 
to  the  city,  runs  almost  due  south,  and  terminates 
near  the  commencement  of  the  Wadij  el-  Witrd,  at 
a  ])oint  on  which  is  situated  to-day  the  summer 
residence  of  the  Greek  Patriarch,  known  as  Kata- 
■mun.  The  whole  mountain  group  is  isolated  from 
its  neighbours  on  the  N.W.  and  W.  by  the  deep 
Wcuh/  belt  Hanina,  to  the  S.W.  by  the  roots  of 
the  Wadi/  cs-Surdr,  and  to  the  E.  and  S.E.  by  the 
Wadij  en-Ndr  and  other  steep  valleys  running 
down  towards  tlie  Jordan  and  tlie  Dead  Sea.  To  the 
north  and  south,  where  the  ancient  caravan  road 
from  Hebron  and  the  Negeb  runs  towards  Samaria 
and  Galilee,  it  is  separated  from  the  main  back- 
bone by  only  shallow  and  open  valleys.  The  special 
ridge  of  land  on  which  Jerusalem  stands  is  roughly 
quadrilateral  in  shape,  but  merges  itself  into 
higher  ground  towards  the  N.  and  N.W.  The 
surface  direction  is  generally  downwards  from  N. 
to  S.,  with  a  slight  tilt  towards  the  E.  ;  this  is 
due  to  the  dip  of  the  strata,  which  run  E.S.E. 
Like  all  this  part  of  the  country,  the  rocky  forma- 
tion is  grey  chalky  limestone,  deposited  in  beds  of 
varying  hardness.  The  least  durable,  which  still 
lies  on  the  surface  of  the  Jlount  of  Olives,  having 
been  denuded  here,  the  top  layer  u\er  the  city's 
site,  is  a  hard  limestone  witli  liinty  Iiands,  known 
locally  as  the  Mezzeh.  This  is  tlie  formation  most 
suitable  for  building-stone,  tlioiigli  the  hardest  to 
work  upon.  Under  this  are  tliick  strata  of  a  soft 
white  stone  of  uniform  consistence,  known  locally 
as  Meleki,  These  softer  layers  have  been  of  the 
greatest  importance  in  the  history  of  tlie  city,  as 
in  them  have  been  excavated  the  countless  caves, 
cisterns,  and  tombs  which  cover  the  whole  district, 
and  from  them  in  ancient  times  most  of  the  build- 
ing-stones were  taken.  In  many  places  this  MIeleJci 
rock  when  first  excavated  is  quite  soft  and  easily 
worked  with  the  most  primitive  tools,  but  on  ex- 
posure to  the  air  it  rapidly  hardens.  The  stones 
from  this  soft  layer,  however,  never  have  the 
durability  of  those  from  the  Mezzeh ;  and  doubtless 
it  is  because  of  the  poor  material  used  that  so 


850 


JERUSALEM 


JERUSALEISI 


few  relics  of  real  antiquity  have  survived  till 
to-day.  Under  the  Mdcid  is  a  layer  of  dolomite 
limestone  which  comes  to  the  surface  in  the  valley 
to  the  south  of  the  city,  and  is  of  importance, 
because  along  its  non-porous  surface  the  water, 
which  percolates  through  the  other  layers,  is  con- 
ducted upwards  to  the  one  spring— the  Virgin's 
Fountain. 

The  enormous  accumulation  of  debris  over  the 
ancient  site  renders  it  difficult  to  picture  to-day 
its  primitive  condition.  The  extensive  investiga- 
tions made  here  during  the  past  fifty  years,  as 
well  as  the  examination  of  many  kindred  sites  in 
other  parts  of  Palestine,  lead  to  the  conclusion 
that  the  whole  area  before  human  habitation  con- 
sisted of  an  irregular,  rocky  surface,  broken  up  by 
a  number  of  small  shallow  valleys  in  which  alone 
there  was  sufficient  soil  for  vegetation.  To-day 
the  rock  is  everywhere  covered  with  debris  of  a 
depth  varying  from  40  to  70  or  more  feet.  Only 
those  who  understand  how  much  this  vast  accumu- 
lation has  blotted  out  the  ancient  natural  land- 
marks can  realize  how  very  difficult  are  even  the 
essential  and  elementary  questions  of  Jerusalem 
topography. 

Of  the  broad  natural  features  that  survive,  most 
manifest  are  the  two  great  valleys  which  demark 
the  before-mentioned  tongue  of  land.  Tlie  Eastern 
Valley  commences  a  mile  north  of  the  city  wall  in 
a  shallow  depression  near  the  watershed,  a  little  to 
the  N.  of  the  highest  point  on  the  Jaffa  road.  It 
at  first  runs  S.E.,  and  is  shallow  and  open  :  it  is 
here  known  as  the  Wadij  cl-J6z.  It  then  turns 
due  south,  and  soon  becomes  a  ravine  with  steep 
sides,  called  by  the  ^loslems  the  Wady  Sitti 
Miriam,  and  by  Christians  since  the  4th  cent. 
the  Valley  of  Jehoshaphat  *  (a  name  very  prob- 
ably connected  originally  with  the  neighbouring 
village  of  SKafat,  and  corrupted  to  Jehoshaphat 
because  of  Jl  3-' '-).  This  ravine,  on  reaching  the 
northern  extremity  of  the  village  of  Silwan,  turns 
S.W.  and  joins  the  Western  Valley  near  the  well 
now  called  Bit-  Eijyub.  In  ancient  times  this  part 
of  the  valley  with  its  steep  and,  in  places,  precipit- 
ous sides,  must  have  formed  a  most  efficient  pro- 
tection to  the  whole  E.  and  S.E.  sides  of  the  city. 
It  is  mentioned  in  the  NT  as  the  '  brook '  (xef/'appos) 
Kidron  (Jn  18').  The  valley  is  almost  all  the 
year  quite  dry,  but  after  a  sudden  heavy  storm 
quite  a  considerable  torrent  may  pour  down  its 
centre.  The  present  writer  has  traversed  the  road 
along  the  lower  parts  of  the  valley  immediately 
after  such  rain,  with  the  water  half-way  to  his 
knees. 

The  Western  Valley — known  to-day  as  the  Wady 
er-Iiababi — is  sljorter  and  more  crooked  than  that 
on  the  East.  It  commences  to  the  S.  of  the 
modern  Jafla  road  close  to  the  Birkct  Mamilla, 
its  head  being  now  occupied  by  a  large  Moslem 
burying  -  ground.  After  running  E.  towards  the 
Jaffa  Gate  —  near  which  it  has  been  extensively 
filled  up  with  rubbish  during  recent  years  —  it 
curves  south,  and  some  300  yards  down  is  crossed 
by  the  arched,  though  now  half-buried,  '  low-level 
aqueduct.'  A  little  further  on  it  is  transformed 
by  the  erection  of  a  barrier  across  its  breadth  into 
a  great  pool  —  the  Birkct  es-Sult&n.  Below  the 
barrier  it  rapidly  deepens  and  curves  S.E.,  until  at 
Bir  Eyiji'tb  it  joins  the  Kidron  Valley  ;  the  new 
valley  formed  by  their  union  runs,  under  the  name 
of  the  Wady  cn'-Niir  (the  Valley  of  Fire),  down  to 
the  Dead  Sea.  The  Wady  er-Iiabdbi  is  very 
generally  considered  to  be  the  Valley  of  Hinnom. 
Several  good  authorities  are  against  this  identiii- 
cation,  but  for  the  present  purpose  there  is  no 
need  to  enter  into  this  discussion,  and  here  it 
may  be  provisionally  accepted.  Although  not 
•  Eusebius,  Onmiaslicon^,  193.  20. 


iteep  a  valley  as  the  Eastern  one,  the  Wady 
er-Rabclbi  presented  a  much  more  etlective  pro- 
tection to  the  walls  in  ancient  days  than  present 
conditions  suggest.  In  NT  times  it  must  have 
made  attack  along  the  whole  W.  and  S.W.  sides 
almost  impracticable.  Only  to  the  N.  and  N.W. 
was  tlie  city  without  natural  defence,  and  it  was 
from  these  points  that  she  always  proved  vulner- 
able. 

The  quadrilateral  plateau  enclosed  by  these  val- 
leys, about  half  a  mile  in  breadth  and  some  1000 
acres  in  extent,  was  subdivided  by  several  shallow 
natural  valleys.  Of  these  the  most  important,  and 
the  only  one  which  to-day  is  clearly  seen,  is  a 
valley  known  as  el-  Wad.  This,  commencing  near 
the  present  Damascus  Gate,  runs  S.  in  a  somewhat 
curved  direction,  dividing  the  modern  city  into 
two  unequal  halves,  and  after  passing  out  near 
the  Dung  Gate  joins  the  Kidron  Valley  at  the 
Pool  of  Siloam.  Although  extensively  filled  up 
in  places,  the  outline  of  the  valley  maj'  still  be 
clearly  seen  from  any  high  point  in  the  city  near 
the  Damascus  Gate,  and  its  bed  is  to-day  traversed 
by  one  of  the  two  carriage  roads  in  the  city. 
Though  crossed  near  the  Bab  cs-Silsilch  by  an 
artificial  causeway  in  which  was  discovered  '  Wil- 
son's Arch,'  it  again  appears  near  the  Jews' 
AVailing-place,  much  of  its  bed  being  even  to-day 
waste  ground.  At  this  point  the  W.  hill  still  pre- 
serves something  of  its  precipitous  face,*  but  on 
its  E.  side  it  is  largely  encroached  upon  by  the 
S.W.  comer  of  the  ^laram.  This  valley  is  evi- 
dently that  described  as  the  Tyropocon  or  Cheese- 
mongers' Valley,  and  by  it  the  whole  natural  site 
of  Jerusalem  is  divided  into  Western  and  Eastern 
hills. 

The  broader  and  loftier  Western  hill  is  without 
doubt  that  called  by  Josephus  the  Upper  Market- 
place and  the  Upper  City,  and  it  is  the  one  which 
since  the  4th  cent,  has  been  known  as  Zion, 
Josephus  I.BJ  V.  iv.  1)  mentions  that  in  his  day  it 
was  called  the  Citadel  of  David,  and  this  tradition 
survives  in  the  name  the  '  Tower  of  David,'  given 
to  the  fortress  at  the  Jaffa  Gate.  This  is  not  the 
place  to  discuss  the  position  of  Zion,  but  it  is  now 
fairly  generally  admitted  that  the  tradition  which 
placed  the  Citadel  of  Da>id  and  Zion  on  this 
Western  spur  was  wrong,  and  that  these  sites 
lay  on  the  Eastern  hill  south  of  the  Temple. 
Josephus  {BJv.  iv.  1)  describes  the  Western  hill 
as  '  much  higher '  and  '  in  length  more  direct'  than 
the  other  hill  opposite  to  it.  The  buildings  on  it 
extended  southward  to  the  Valley  of  Hinnom,  but 
to  the  north  it  is  bounded  by  a  valley  which  runs 
east>\'ard  from  near  the  modern  Jaffa  Gate  to  join 
the  Tyropoeon  Valley  opposite  the  Western  wall 
of  the  Temple  area.  It  is  to-day  largely  filled  up, 
but  its  direction  is  preserved  by  David  Street. 
The  first  wall  ran  along  the  S.  edge  of  this  valley, 
and  tlie  suburbs  which  grew  up  to  its  north  were 
enclosed  by  the  second  wall. 

Regarding  the  Eastern  hill,  or,  rather,  regard- 
ing the  name  for  part  of  this  Eastern  hill,  there  is 
much  more  dispute.  Josephus  (/JJ  V.  iv.  1)  wrote 
of  the  '  other  hill,  which  was  called  Akra,  and  sus- 
tains the  lower  city ' :  it  'is  the  shape  of  a  moon 
when  she  is  horned  ;  over  against  this  there  was  a 
third  hill' — evidently,  from  the  description,  that 
covered  by  the  Temple — '  but  naturally  lower  than 
Akra,  and  parted  formerly  from  the  other  by  a  deep 
valley.'  He  narrates  how  Simon  Maccabajus,  after 
capturing  the  fortress  which  stood  there,  set  his 
followers  to  work  night  and  day  for  three  years 
levelling  the  mountain,  so  that  it  should  no  longer 
be  able  to  support  a  fortress  which  could  overlook 
the  Temple.  As  a  result  of  tliis  work,  the  valley 
between  this  hill  and  the  Temple  was  filled  up. 
•  Robinson,  B/iP  i.  390. 


JERUSALEM 


JERUSALEM 


851 


The  conclusion  is  therefore  that  this  hill,  which 
we  learn  was  the  '  City  of  David '  at  the  time  of 
the  Maccabees,  formed  in  the  days  of  Josephus 
one  hill  with  the  Temple  hill,  and  further  that  it 
was  separated  from  the  Western  hill,  whereon  was 
the  Upper  City,  by  the  valley  which  '  extended  as 
far  as  Siloam.'  All  this  points  to  the  Eastern  hill 
south  of  the  Temple  as  the  site  of  Akra  *  and  of 
the  Lower  City.  Akra  cannot  have  lain  north  of 
the  Temple,  for  here  lay  the  Antonia  {Ant.  XV.  xi. 
4  ;  BJ  V.  v.  8),  the  ancient  Baris  or  tower,  a  fortress 
distinct  from  the  Akra,  indeed  largely  its  suc- 
cessor ;  and  north  of  this  again  was  Bezetha,  the 
New  City. 

There  is  much  to  confirm  this  view  of  the  posi- 
tion of  the  Akra.  The  Akra  was  built  on  the 
'  City  of  David,'  and  this  is  identical  with  the  Jebu- 
site  Zion.  On  quite  other  grounds  Zion  has  been 
placed  on  this  hill  by  many  modern  authorities. 
Then  Akra  is  associated,  in  the  description  of  the 
taking  of  Jerusalem,  with  '  the  fountain,'  i.e.  the 
Virgin's  Fountain,  and  Siloam  {B.fv.  vi.  l).t  The 
appropriateness  of  the  name  '  Lower  City '  for  the 
part  of  Jerusalem  which  sloped  down  south  from 
the  Temple  is  as  evident  as  '  Upper  City '  is  for 
that  which  actually  overlooked  the  Temple  on 
the  west.  If  this,  the  most  ancient  part  of 
Jerusalem,  is  not  that  described  by  Josephus  as 
Akra  and  Lower  City,  what  name  did  it  have  ?  It 
must  have  contained  a  very  large  share  of  the 
ordinary  dwellings  of  the  people.  Ophlrts  (the 
Ophel  of  the  OT)  seems  in  Josephus'  {BJ  v.  iv.  2) 
time,  at  any  rate,  to  have  been  only  a  particular 
knoll  near  the  S.E.  corner  of  the  Temple. 

The  topographical  difficulties  are  not  insur- 
mountable if  the  history  is  borne  in  mind.  It  is 
highly  probable  that  a  valley  does  exist  either 
south  of  the  present  Temple  area  or  even  on  a  line 
between  the  present  Temjjle  platform  and  the 
el-Aksa  mosque.  Tlie  name  may  have  remained 
associated  with  the  highest  parts  of  the  hill,  even 
though  the  wall  of  the  Temple  at  the  time  of 
Josephus  may  have  encroached  on  the  hill,  and 
even  have  covered  part  of  the  site  of  the  ancient 
fortress.  The  Lower  City  seems  to  have  extended 
up  the  Tyropffion  Valley  at  least  to  the  first  wall, 
and  hence  the  descent  by  steps  from  one  of  the 
W.  gates  of  the  Temple  described  by  Josephus 
presents  no  real  difficulty  to  the  view  of  the 
position  of  Akra  here  maintained. 

The  older  view  of  Rolnnson,  Warren,  Conder, 
and  others,  that  Akra  was  the  hill  now  sustaining 
the  Muristan  and  the  Church  of  the  Sepulchre, 
north  of  the  W.  branch  of  the  Tyropoeon  Valley, 
presents  many  difficulties.  This  was  the  area 
enclosed  by  the  second  wall,  and  Josephus  calls 
it  not  the  Lower  City,  but  '  the  northern  quarter 
of  thq  city.'  Then  the  condition  of  neither  the 
hill  nor  the  valley  tallies  with  the  description  of 
Josephus,  and  in  his  day  the  valley  between  this 
and  the  Temple  must  have  been  very  much  deeper 
than  it  is  to-day.  Josephus  is  more  likely  to  be 
wrong  in  stating  that  the  hill  had  once  been 
higher  than  the  Temple  and  was  separated  from 
it  by  a  deep  valley— a  statement  which  depended 
on  tradition — than  in  describing  the  hill  as  lower 
in  his  time  and  the  valley  as  tilled  up — facts  which 
he  must  have  seen  with  his  own  eyes. 

3.  Climate  and  Diseases. —The  climate  of 
Jerusalem,  while  bearing  the  broad  character- 
istics common  to  the  land,  presents  in  some  re- 
spects marked  features  of  contrast  to  that  of  the 
Jordan  Valley  and  other  low-lying  places  which 
were  the  scenes  of  the  ministry  of  Jesus.     There  is 

*  This  V 
and  has  heen  recentlj 
Samlay. 

t  Cf.  BJ  T.  iv.  1,  VI.  vi.  3,  and  V.  vii.  2 


every  reason  for  believing  that  the  general  climatic 
features  are  the  same  to-day  as  then.  On  tlie 
whole,  Jerusalem  must  be  considered  healthy,  and 
what  disease  there  is,  is  largely  due  to  preventable 
causes.  The  marked  changes  of  season,  the  clear 
pure  atmosphere,  with  frequent  winds,  and  the  cool 
nights  even  in  midsunmier,  combine  to  give  Jeru- 
salem a  climate  superior  to  the  lower  parts  of 
Palestine.  In  winter  the  cold  is  considerable  but 
never  extreme,  the  lowest  temperature  recorded  in 
20  years  being  only  25°  F.  As  a  rule,  a  frost  occurs 
on  some  half  a  dozen  nights  in  each  year.  January, 
February,  and  December  are,  in  this  order,  the 
three  coldest  and  wettest  months,  though  the 
minimum  temperature  has  occurred  several  times 
in  March,  and  a  night  temperature  as  low  as  40° 
at  the  end  of  May  (cf .  Jn  18"*).  Snow  falls  heavily 
at  times,  but  only  in  exceptionally  severe  winters. 
The  average  rainfall  is  about  26  inches,  a  lower 
mean  than  at  Hebron,  but  higher  than  in  the 
plains  and  the  Jordan  Valley.  The  maximum  fall 
recorded  (1847)  was  41-62  inches,  the  minimum 
(1870)  was  13-39.  So  low  a  fall  as  this,  especially 
if  preceded  by  a  scanty  fall,  means  considerable 
distress  in  the  succeeding  dry  season.  During  the 
summer  no  rain  falls,  and  the  mean  temperature 
steadily  rises  till  August,  when  it  reaches  73-6, 
though  the  days  of  maximum  heat  (near  or  even 
over  100°)  are  often  in  September.  It  is  not,  how- 
ever, the  seasons  of  extreme  lieat  or  cold  that  are 
most  trying  to  the  health,  but  the  intermediate 
spring  and  autumn,  especially  the  months  of  May 
and  October.  This  is  largely  due  to  the  winds. 
Of  all  the  winds  the  most  characteristic  is  the 
S.E.  —  the  sirocco  —  which  in  midwinter  blows 
piercingly  cold,  and  in  the  spring  and  autumn  (but 
not  at  ail  in  the  summer)  hot,  stifling,  and  often 
laden  with  fine  dust  from  the  deserts  whence  it 
comes.  On  such  days  all  Nature  sutlers,  the  vege- 
tation droops,  .and  man  not  only  feels  debilitated 
and  depressed,  but  is  actually  more  lialjle  to  ill- 
ness, especially  '  fever '  and  ophthalmia.  The  N.W. 
is  the  cold  refreshing  wind  which,  almost  every 
summer  afternoon  and  evening,  mitigates  the 
heat.  The  S.W.  wind  blows  moist  off  the  sea, 
and  in  the  later  summer  brings  the  welcome  copi- 
ous clouds  and,  in  consequence,  the  refreshing 
'  dews.'  In  the  early  mornings  of  September  and 
October  thick  mists  often  fill  the  valleys  till  dis- 
persed by  the  rising  sun.  The  onset  of  the  rains, 
in  late  October,  is  not  uncommonly  signalized  by 
heavy  thunderstorms  and  sudden  downpours  of 
rain,  which  fill  with  raging  and  destructive  floods 
the  valleys  still  parched  by  seven  months'  drought. 
As  much  as  4  inches  of  rain  has  fallen  in  one 
day. 

The  diseases  of  Jerusalem  are  preventable  to  a 
large  extent  under  proper  sanitary  conditions. 
Malarial  fevers,  ophthalmia,  and  smallpox  (in 
epidemics)  are  the  greatest  scourges.  Enteric 
fever,  typhus,  measles,  scarlet  fever,  and  cholera 
(rarely)  occur  in  epidemics.  Tubercular  diseases, 
rheumatism,  erysipelas,  intestinal  worms,  and 
various  skin  diseases  are  all  common. 

i.  Water  supply.— The  water  supply  of  Jeru- 
salem has  in  all  its  history  been  of  such  import- 
ance and,  on  account  of  the  altitude  of  the  city, 
has  involved  so  many  elaborate  works,  which 
remain  to-day  as  arclueological  problems,  that  it 
will  be  well  to  consider  it  separately.  The  city 
never  apjjears  to  ha\e  seriously  suttered  from  want 
of  water  in  sieges,  but  probably  at  no  period  was 
Jerusalem  more  lavishly  supplied  with  water  than 
it  was  during  the  Roman  predominance,  and  most 
of  the  arrangements  were  complete  before  the 
time  of  Christ. 

Of  springs  we  know  of  only  one  to-day,  and 
there  is  no  reason  to  believe  there  were  ever  any 


JERUSALEM 


.TERUSALEM 


more.  This  spring  is  that  known  to  the  Chris- 
tians as  'Ain  Sitti  Miriam — the  spring  of  the  Lady- 
Mary — or  the  Virgin's  Fountain  (from  a  tradition 
that  the  Virgin  washed  the  clothes  of  the  infant 
Jesus  there),  to  the  Moslem  fellahin  a,s'Ain  umm 
cd-deraj — '  the  spring  of  the  mother  of  tlie  steps,' 
and  to  the  eastern  Jews  as  '  Aaron's  {or  '  the 
priests")  bath.'  The  water  arises  in  a  small  cave 
reached  by  30  steps,  some  25  feet  underground, 
in  the  Kidron  Valley,  due  south  of  the  Temple 
area.  Though  to-day  lying  so  deep,  there  are 
ample  eridences  that  originally  the  mouth  of  the 
cave  opened  out  on  the  side  of  the  valley,  and  that 
tlie  water  flowed  out  thence.  It  has  become  buried 
through  the  accumulated  debris  in  the  valley  bed. 
At  the  back  of  the  cave — some  30  feet  from  the 
entrance — is  a  tunnel  mouth,  the  beginning  of  the 
famous  SLloam  aqueduct  (see  SiLOAM).  The  flow 
is  intermittent,  about  two  or  three  times  a  day  on 
an  average.  This  fact  is  recorded  by  Jerome,  and 
is  by  many  authorities  considered  a  reason  for 
locating  here  the  Pool  of  Bethesda  (see  Bethesd.\). 
The  water  is  brackish  to  the  taste,  and  chemical 
examination  shows  that,  to-day  at  any  rate,  it  is 
contaminated  with  sewage.  It  is  undoubtedly 
unfit  for  drinking  purposes :  it  is  used  chiefly  by 
the  people  of  the  village  of  Sihcan,  especially  at 
the  SUoam-pool  end  of  the  aqueduct,  for  watering 
their  gardens. 

Furtlier  do^^*n  the  valley,  at  its  junction  with 
the  Valley  of  Hinnom,  there  is  a  well,  125  feet 
deep,  known  as  Bir  Eyyiib,  or  Job's  Well.  This, 
though  rediscovered  by  tlie  Crusaders,  is  almost 
certainly  ancient  and  may  have  been  the  En-rogel 
of  the  OT.  From  here  great  quantities  of  water 
are  drawn  all  the  year  round,  much  of  whicli  is 
carried  in  skins  and  sold  in  Jerusalem,  but  it  is 
in  no  way  of  better  qualitj^  than  that  from  the 
Virgin's  Fountain.  After  a  spell  of  heavy  rain 
the  water  rises  up  like  a  frcnuinc  spring,  and  over- 
flowing underground  a  littli-  1"  low  tlie  actual 
well  mouth,  it  bursts  forth  in  a  liiil.'  stream  and 
runs  down  the  Wndi/  ni-.\'ir.  Smli  an  outflow 
may  last  several  days,  and  is  a  great  source  of 
attraction  to  the  people  of  Jerusalem,  who,  on  the 
cessation  of  the  rain,  hasten  out  to  sit  by  the 
'  flo'ft'ing  Kidron  '  and  refresh  themselves  beside  its 
running  waters.  During  the  unusually  lieavy  rains 
of  the  winter  1904-5  tlie  'Kidron'  ran  thus  four 
times.  A  little  farther  down  the  valley  there 
occurs,  at  the  same  time  and  under  the  same  cir- 
cumstances, another  apparent  'sjiring' — the  'Ain 
el-L6z — due  to  the  water  of  Bir  E;/>/iib  finding  its 
way  along  an  ancient  rock-cut  aqueduct  and  burst- 
ing up  through  the  ground  where  the  conduit  is 
blocked. 

The  Hamm&m  esh-Shefa  (bath  of  healing)  under 
the  W.  'wall  of  the  llarnni  area  has  by  many  been 
considered  an  ancient  spring.  To-day  the  water  col- 
lects in  an  extensive  underground  rocky  chamber 
at  the  bottom  of  a  well  86  feet  deep.  Quite  pos- 
sibly before  the  area  to  the  north  was  so  thickly 
inhabited,  when,  for  example,  this  well  was  outside 
the  walls,  a  certain  amount  of  good  water  may 
have  been  obtainable  here,  but  now  what  collects 
is  a  foul  and  smelling  liquid  which  percolates  to  the 
valley  bottom  from  the  neighbouring  inhabited 
area,  and  it  is  unfit  for  even  its  present  use — in  a 
Turkish  bath. 

More  imi.ortant  tlian  springs  or  wells  are  the  in- 
nuim  I  1  (•  .  1  :  !  -  with  which,  from  the  earliest 
tini.    ,  1 .  1  iisalem  has  been  honej-combed. 

It  hi  y  I      11  pointed  out  that  the  rainfall  of 

this  1'  jj  on  I-  I  1 11 1-11  Irrable,  and  rain-water  collected 
on  a  clean  roof  and  stored  in  a  well-kept  cistern  is 
good  for  all  domestic  purposes.  There  are  private 
cisterns  under  practically  every  house,  but  there 
are  in  addition  a  number  of  larger  reservoirs  for 


public  use.  In  the  Hnrnm — the  ancient  Temple 
area — there  are  37  known  excavations,  of  which 
one,  the  '  great  sea,'  it  is  calculated,  can  hold  about 
2,000,000  gallons. 

In  other  parts  the  more  important  cisterns  are — 
the  Birkct  Mamilla,  Hanimam  el-Batrak,  Birkct 
Israel,  Birkct  cs-Sultdn,  '  The  Twin' Pools,'  the 
so-called  '  Pool  of  Bethesda,'  and  the  two  Siloam 
pools — Birkct  Silwan  and  Birkct  el-Hamra.  The 
last  three  are  dealt  with  in  the  special  articles 
Bethesda  and  Siloam  respectivelv.  The  Birkct 
cs-SultAn,  the  misnamed  '  Lower  Pool  of  Gihon ' 
in  the  Valley  of  Hinnom,  was  probably  first  con- 
structed by  German  knights  in  the  12th  cent.,  and 
was  repaired  by  the  Sultan  Suleiman  ibn  Selim  in 
the  16th  cent.,  while  the  Twin  Pools  near  the 
'  Sisters  of  Zion '  were  made  in  the  moat  of  the 
Antonia  fortress  after  the  destruction  of  the  city 
in  A.D.  70  ;  so  neither  of  these  needs  description 
here.  The  other  three  require  longer  notice.  The 
Birkct  Mamilla,  incorrectly  called  the  '  Upper 
Pool  of  Gihon,'  lies  at  the  head  of  the  Valley  of 
Hinnom,  about  700  yards  W.  X.  W.  of  the  Jafta  Gate, 
and  used  to  collect  all  the  surface  water  from  the 
higher  ground  around  ;  in  recent  years  the  Moslem 
cemetery  in  which  it  lies  has  been  surrounded 
by  a  wall,  which  has  largely  cut  off  the  supplies. 
After  a  spell  of  heavy  rain  it  often  used  to  till  to 
overflowing.  It  is  97  yards  long,  64  yards  wide, 
and  19  feet  deep.  It  appears  to  be  '  the  Serpents' 
Pool'  of  Josephus  {BJv.  iii.  2).  The  outlet  on  the 
E.  side  leads  to  a  conduit  which  enters  the  city 
near  the  Jatta  Gate  and  empties  itself  into  the 
great  rock-cut  pool — Birkct  JfamviAm  el-Batrak 
(the  pool  or  bath  of  the  Patriarch),  commonly 
known  as  the  Pool  of  Hezekiah.  The  pool,  80  yards 
long  by  48  yards  wide,  is  largely  rock-cut,  and  lies 
across  the  W.  arm  of  the  Tyropoeon  Valley ;  there 
are  indications  that  it  extended  at  one  time  further 
north  than  it  does  at  present.  Josephus  apparently 
refers  to  this  as  the  Pool  Amygdalon  {KoKvfi^riepa 
'A/ii'-zSaXoi-),  a  name  perhaps  derived  from  Bcrclcat 
ha-migdalim  (Pool  of  the  Towers)  on  account  of 
the  near  proximity  of  some  of  the  great  fortresses 
on  the  neighbouring  walls.  As  the  pool  is  not 
mentioned  in  Josephus  until  after  the  second  wall 
had  been  captured,  it  may  be  presumed  that  it 
was  within  that  wall(/;./ V.  xi.  4). 

Thr  r.u-lrf  Isr.nl  i,  hiuU  arross  the  width  of  a 
natural  \aney  whirh  run-  Ironi  X.W.  to  S.E.,  and 
passes  uniler  the  X.K.  <ourse  of  tlie  yaram  at  this 
point.  It  is  supposed  by  some  authorities  that  the 
pool  itself  did  not  exist  at  the  period  of  Christ's 
ministry,  but  as  a  defence  to  the  Temple  enclosure 
and  to  the  neighbouring  Castle  of  Antonia  (wh. 
see)  it  may  well  have  been  the  Pool  Struthius  men- 
tioned by  Josephus  (ib.).  He  says  the  fifth  legion 
raised  a  bank  at  the  tower  of  Antonia  '  over  against 
the  middle  of  the  pool  that  is  called  Struthius.' 
It  must,  however,  be  stated  that  M.  Ganneau  and 
others  propose  to  identify  the  '  Twin  Pools '  with 
Struthius. 

Constructed  for  Jerusalem,  though  seven  miles 
from  the  city,  are  the  three  great  reservoirs  known 
as  'Solomon's  Pools,'  or  el-Bur uk.  They  lie  one 
below  the  other  down  a  valley ;  their  floors  are 
made  of  the  valley  bed,  deepened  in  places,  and 
they  are  naturally  deepest  at  their  lower  or  eastern 
ends  ;  they  increase  in  size  from  above  downward. 
The  largest  and  lowest  is  nearly  200  yards  long,  60 
yards  wide,  and  50  feet  deep.  To-day  they  are  use- 
less, but  when  kept  in  repair  and  clean  were  no 
doubt  valuable  as  storeplaces  of  surplus  supplies  of 
surface  water  from  the  surroun<ling  hills  and  of 
water  from  the  springs.  Eeganling  the  question 
when  these  pools  were  made  there  are  most  con- 
trary opinions.  It  is  highly  iniprobable  that  they 
go  back  anything  like  as  far  as  Solomon's  time,  and 


JERUSALEM 


JERUSALEM 


853 


the  association  of  liis  name  with  any  great  and  wise 
work  is  so  common  in  the  East  that  the  name 
'Solomon's  Pools'  means  nothing.  On  the  whole, 
it  is  likely  the  work  was  not  later  than  Koman 
times. 

The  system  of  aqueducts  which  centre  round 
these  pools  has  a  special  interest.  Two  were  con- 
structed to  carry  water  from  tlie  four  springs  in  the 
Valley  of  the  tools  to  Jerusalem,  and  two  others 


WATER     SUPPLY 

The  "  Low  Level "  Aqueduct  thun 

Tho  "High  Level -Aqueduct    _. 

TheWady  Blur  "Kliariz"          ,.     o-o— 
iHerodlum       


(ModiJUifrom  Schick 


to  supplement  this  supply.  The  first  two  are  the 
well-known  high-  and  low-level  aqueducts.  The 
former  appears  to  have  reached  the  city  somewhere 
about  the  level  of  the  Jaffa  Gate,  and  may  also 
have  supplied  the  Birkct  Mamilla.  It  is  specially 
remarkable  for  the  way  it  crossed  a  valley  on  the 
Bethlehem  road   ))y  iiipans  of  an  inverted  syphon. 

Large  fi  lij iil^  (it  llii-^  ■jrc:i(  stone  tube  have  been 

found,  aihl  Imni  in-n  i|.i  i,,iis  carved  on  the  lime- 
stone lilu.k,,  ilir  ,lal.'  I.I  II-,  construction  or  repair 
must  have  l.ecu  in  Koman  limes  and,  according  to 
some  authorities,  as  latca^  al.out  A.li.  I'.i.'i.  rnless, 
liowever,  the  account  ,ui\(ii  of  I  he  royal  jialace 
gardens  of  Herod  is  greatly  e\a--' lalr,!,  the  aque- 
duct nnist  have  been  in  use  in  ller,„l  s  .lay^,  as  it  is 
the  only  conduit  by  which  nuniiiiii  «a'ler  could 
have  reached  tlie  city  at  a  level  hijh  en.mjh  to 
have  supplied  these  garilens.  ^  Tlie  low  -level  aciue- 


duct,  still  in  use  along  a  good  part  of  its  course, 
may  easily  be  followed  to-day  along  its  whole  length 
of  11 J  miles.  It  brought  water  from  the  springs 
into  the  Temple  area.  It  is  very  probably  the 
source  of  the  '  spring '  which  is  said  by  Tacitus  ( Hist. 
V.  12)  to  have  run  perpetually  in  the  Temple.  Of  the 
two  supplementary  aqueducts,  one,  of  exactly  the 
same  construction  as  the  last  mentioned,  brought 
water  from  the  copious  springs  at  Wady  Arriib — 
two-thirds  of  the  way  from  Jerusalem  to  Hebron— 
along  an  extraordinarily  winding  conduit  28  miles 
long.  The  other,  built  on  an  altogether  difl'erent 
principle,  is  a  four-mile  channel  which  gathers 
water  from  a  long  chain  of  wells  in  the  Wadi/  BiAr 
on  the  plan  of  a  Persian  khariz,^  such  as  is  extensively 
used  in  Northern  Syria.  This,  pronounced  by  Sir 
C.  Wilson  '  one  of  the  most  remarkable  works  in 
Palestine,'  is  probably  comparatively  late.  It  seems 
to  have  been  used  to  supplement  the  water  of  the 
springs  in  the  Valley  of  the  Pools. 

The  special  interest  of  the  great  '  low-level  aque- 
duct '  described  above,  with  its  total  length  of  40 
miles,  lies  in  the  historical  fact  that  it,  or  some 
part  of  it,  was  one  of  the  causes  of  the  recall  of 
Pontius  Pilate.  '  Pilate  (Ant.  XVIII.  iii.  2)  under- 
took to  bring  a  current  of  water  to  Jerusalem,  and 
did  it  with  the  sacred  money,  and  derived  the  origin 
of  the  stream  from  the  distance  of  two  hundred 
furlongs.'  A  riot  took  place,  and  a  '  great  number ' 
of  people  were  slain.  This  may  be  the  incident 
referred  to  in  Lk  13"-.  If  Josephus  is  correct  in 
saying  that  Pilate  was  bringing  water  a  distance  of 


200  stadia  (  =  26  miles),  then  this  must  apply  to  the 
aqueduct  to    Wady  Arrub.      In 
any  case,  it  is  highly  improbable  that  his  was  the 


initiation  of  the  whole  work.  The  very  absence  of 
inscriptions  and  of  contemporary  references  makes 
it  probable  that  the  conduit  was  at  least  older  than 
Roman  times.  If  we  allow  that  the  high-level 
aqueduct  goes  back  to  the  days  of  Herod  the  Great, 
then  the  low-level  aqueduct  may  well  go  back  some 
centuries  earlier. 

S.  Topography  of  the  City  in  the  timk  of 
Christ.— The  city  walls.— At  the  time  of  Christ, 
Jerusalem  had  two  walls  which  had  been  restored  by 
order  of  Julius  Cajsar  (Ant.  XIV.  x.  5).  In  A.D.  43, 
Agrippa  I.  commenced  a  third  one  of  great  magnifi- 
cence, which,  however,  seems  never  to  have  been 
properly  finished. 

(a)  The  first  wall  had  60  towers  ;  it  encompassed 
the  ancient  and  most  important  secular  buildings 
of  the  city.  Though  some  minor  details  are  yet 
unknown,  its  general  course  is  perfectly  clear. 
The  tower  Hippicus,  at  which  it  arose — one  of  those 
magnificent  towers  built  by  Herod— was  situated 
close  to  the  present  so-called  '  Tower  of  David,'  in 
which  indeeditsremains  may  even  be  incorporated. 
From  here  it  ran  along  the'S.  edge  of  the  VV.  arm 
of  the  Tyropoeon  Valley.  It  then  passed  the  Xystus, 
joined  on  to  the  Council  House  near  the  jjresent 
Mehkemeh  or  Town  Hall,  and  ended  at  the  W  estern 
Cloister.  It  probably  crossed  the  Tyropoeon  Valley, 
where  to-day  there  is  the  causeway  leading  to  the 
Bab  es-Silsileh  of  the  liaram.  The  western  wall 
commenced  at  the  tower  Hippicus,  and  probably 
followed  the  line  of  the  present  western  wall  to 
the  great  corner  tower,  the  rocky  foundations  of 
which  are  now  included  in  the  C.M.S.  Boys'  School. 
Somewhere  near  this  part  of  its  course  it  passed  '  a 
place  called  Bethso  '—unidentified  ;  it  then  bent 
S.E.  '  to  the  gate  of  the  Essenes,  and  went  thence 
southward  along  tlu^  steeii  edge  of  the  Valley  of 
Hinnoin  down  to  the  I'ocd  of  Siloam.'  It  had  'its 
bending  aliove  the  fountain  Siloam,'  which  prob- 
ably implies  that  it  surrounded  the  pool  on  the 
W.,  N.,  and  E.,  but  did  not  enclose  it,  as  a  wall  at 
another  period  undoubtedly  did.  It  then  ran  on 
the  edge  of  the  steep  rocks  above  the  Virgin's 


854 


JERUSALEM 


JERUSALEM 


Fountain — called,  apparently,  by  Josephus  '  Solo- 
mon's Pool ' — and  thence  to  '  a  certain  place  -which 
they  called  Ophlas,  where  it  joined  to  the  eastern 
cloister  of  the  Temple'  {BJv.  iv.  2). 

Extensive  remains  of  this  ■wall  have  been  traced. 
Those  of  the  great  tower  at  the  S.  W.  corner  were 
examined  by  Maudslay  in  1S74.  He  found  the  base 
of  a  tower  20  feet  high  he^^^l  out  of  the  native  rock. 
It  was  nearly  square,  and  projected  45  feet  from 
the  scarp  to  which  it  was  attached — altogether  a 
great  work,  and  at  a  point  which  must  have  always 
been  specially  well  fortified.*  A  little  to  the  east 
is  another  great  scarp,  and  here  Bliss  t  began  to 
trace  out  the  buried  remains  of  the  south  wall. 
He  found  near  the  commencement  of  his  excava- 
tions a  gate  wliich  may  very  probably  be  the  Gate 
of  the  Essenes.  In  tracing  the  wall  towards  Siloam, 
foundations  belonging  to  two  distinct  periods  were 
excavated.  Bliss  considered  that  the  higher  of 
these  belonged  to  the  wall  of  the  period  between 
Herod  and  Titus.  A  little  to  the  AV.  of  Siloam  he 
found  the  remains  of  a  tine  gateway  showing  three 
periods  of  use — the  sill  lying  at  dittbrcnt  heights  in 
each  period — and  a  fine  rock-cut  underground  drain, 
almost  certainly  Koman  work,  which  he  traced  for 
a  gieat  distance  up  the  W.  side  of  the  Tyropceon 
Valley,  where  it  came  to  lie  under  a  paved  street 
ascending  the  valley  in  the  direction  of  the  Temple. 
After  leaving  the  before-mentioned  gate,  there  were 
indications — not,  it  must  be  admitted,  decisive — 
that  the  wall  at  one  period  surrounded  the  pool 
on  three  sides,  as  Josephus  apparently  describes, 
whUe  at  another  period  it  crossed  the  mouth  of  the 
Tyropceon  Valley  on  an  elaborate  dam.  To  the 
east  of  the  pool  the  rock  scarp  is  exposed,  and 
almost  every  trace  of  the  wall  lias  been  removed. 
As  regards  the  E.  section  of  this  southern  wall, 
Sir  Charles  Warren  in  1875  traced  the  buried 
remains  of  a  wall  14^  feet  thick  and,  in  places,  70 
feet  high  from  the  S.E.  corner  of  the  Temple  south- 
wards for  90  feet,  and  then  S.  W.  for  700  feet.  Two 
hundreil  feet  from  the  end  he  unearthed  the  re- 
mains of  a  massive  tower  standing  to  the  height  of 
66  feet  and  founded  upon  rock.  The  wall  itself 
had  been  built,  not  on  rock,  but  on  virgin  soil. 
The  course  of  the  wall,  as  described  by  Josephus, 
thus  appears  to  be  very  fully  verified  by  modem 
discoveries. 

(b)  With  regard  to  the  second  wall  a  great  deal 
of  uncertainty  prevails.  There  are  few  more  hotly 
disputed  problems  in  Jerusalem  topography.  This 
second  wall  appears  to  have  been  on  the  line  of 
that  made  by  the  later  kings  of  Judah,  to  have 
been  repaired  by  Nehemiah,  and  used  by  the  Has- 
monieans.  It  is  dismissed  by  Josephus  (BJ  v.  iv.  2) 
in  a  very  few  words  ;  it  '  took  its  beginning  from 
that  gate  which  they  call  Gennath,  which  be- 
longed to  the  first  wall ;  it  only  encompassed  the 
northern  quarter  of  the  city  and  reached  as  far  as 
the  tower  of  Antonia.'  It  had  40  towers  on  it.  Ko 
remains  of  the  gate  Gennath  have  been  found,  but 
the  configuration  of  the  ground  makes  it  improb- 
able that  the  wall  could  have  taken  its  rise  very 
far  to  the  E.  of  the  present  Jaffa  Gate,  as  here  there 
exists  a  narrow  neck  of  high  ground,  but  a  little  to 
the  E.  the  level  abruptly  descends  into  the  W.  arm 
of  the  Tyropaon.  In  1886  some  30  yards  of  the 
remains  of  wliat  seemed  a  city  wall  were  discovered 
15  feet  below  the  street,  where  the  foundations  of 
the  Grand  New  Hotel  were  dug.  They  were  sup- 
posed by  Messrs.  .MirriU  and  Schick  to  be  part  of 
the  second  wall  ;it  its  \V.  m.l,  but  too  short  a  piece 
was  examined  to  alln«  of  jiositive  conclusions. 
The  other  supiios.-d  traces  of  the  second  wall  are 
even  more  ambiguous.      In  the  N.  part  of   the 


,  Jerusalem,  1S94-97,' 


1  and  Dickie, 


JIfiinstan,  where  to-day  stands  tlie  German  churcli, 
Schick  found  remains  of  which  he  said,  '  I  am  con- 
vinced that  these  are  traces  of  the  second  wall ' : 
these  would  fall  in  line  with  a  wall  10  or  12 
feet  thick,  which,  according  to  Ilobinson  (BEP  i. 
408),  was  found  N.  of  the  Pool  of  Hezekiah,  when 
the  foundations  of  the  Coptic  Convent  were  laid. 
Again,  just  to  the  N.  of  the  German  church  and 
E.  of  the  Church  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre  were  found 
extensive  ruined  walls,  which  are  to-day  treasured 
by  the  Russian  ecclesiastical  authorities  as  sure 
evidences  that  the  site  of  the  traditional  Holy 
Sepulchre  was  outside  the  ancient  walls.  It  is, 
however,  much  more  probable  that  these  remains, 
which  are  quite  unlike  city  walls,  are  really  frag- 
ments of  Constantine's  Great  Basilica. 

The  question  is  thus  quite  an  open  one,  but  the 
argument  tliat  the  second  wall  cannot,  on  military 
grounds,  have  followed  a  course  S.  of  the  site  of  the 
Sepiilchre  is  an  unsafe  one.  As  Sir  C.  Wilson  * 
points  out  :  '  There  are  several  Greek  towns  in 
Asia  Minor  where  the  city  walls  or  parts  of  them 
are  quite  as  badly  traced  according  to  modern  ideas. 
In  ancient  towns  the  Acropolis  was  the  principal 
defence,  the  city  wall  was  often  weak.'  It  may 
indeed  be  suggested  that  tins  very  weakness  made 
Agrippa  undertake  his  new  wall  along  a  better 
line  for  defence. 

(c)  The  whole  question  of  the  second  wall  depends 
largely  on  what  view  is  taken  of  the  course  of  the 
third  ivcdl  constructed  by  Agrippa  I.  The  most 
widely  accepted  opinion  to-day  is  that  this  followed 
much  the  same  course  as  the  present  N.  wall.  It  was 
begun  upon  the  most  elaborate  plan,  but  was  never 
apparently  finished  on  the  scale  designed,  because 
Agrippa  feared  Claudius  CiEsar,  'lest  he  should 
suspect  that  so  strong  a  wall  was  built  in  order  to 
make  some  innovation  in  public  affairs '  {BJv.  iv.  2). 
It  was,  however,  at  the  time  of  the  siege,  over  18 
feet  wide  and  40  feet  high,  with  90  massive  to\yers. 
It  began  at  the  tower  Hippicus,  and  had  its  N.W. 
corner  at  a  great  octagonal  tower,  called  Pse- 
phinus,  135  feet  high  and  overlooking  the  whole 
city.t  From  here  was  an  extensive  view  of  Arabia, 
i.e.  the  Land  of  ^loab,  at  sunrise, '  as  well  as  of  the 
utmost  limits  of  the  Hebrew  possessions  at  the  sea 
westwards'  {BJ  V.  iv.  3).  The  foundations  of  this 
tower  are  supposed  to  survive  to-day  just  inside 
the  N.AV.  angle  of  the  modern  city,  under  the 
name  Kalat  cl-Jalud,  or  Goliath's  Castle.  From 
this  corner  the  wall  '  extended  till  it  came  over 
against  the  monuments  of  Helena,  queen  of 
Adiabene,  the  daughter  of  Izates'  {BJ  y.  iv.  2). 
This,  however,  must  be  read  in  the  light  of 
the  statement  of  Josephus  in  another  place  {Ant. 
XX.  iv.  3)  that  this  tomb  is  '  distant  no  more 
than  three  furlongs  from  the  city  of  Jerusalem.' 
The  so-called  '  Tombs  of  the  Kings'  are  now  very 
generally  identified  as  the  very  notable  tomb  of 
Queen  Helena,  and,  that  being  so,  the  distance 
given,  3  stadia  or  furlongs  (700  yards),  is  a  fair 
description  of  the  distance  of  this  monument  from 
the  present  north  wall  near  the  Damascus  Gate.  He 
next  states  that  '  it  extended  further  to  a  great 
length,  and  passed  by  the  sepulchral  caverns  of  the 
kings' — these  last  may  very  well  be  the  extensive 
caves  known  as  '  Solomon's  Quarries.'  The  wall 
'  bent  again  at  the  tower  of  the  corner,'  which  then 
may  have  been  where  the  present  Stork  Tower  at 
the  N.E.  corner  of  the  city  is,  'at  the  monument 
which  is  called  the  monument  of  the  fuller ' — prob- 
alily  destroyed — '  and  joined  the  old  wall  at  the 
valley  called  the  Valley  of  the  l^Cidron.'  This  was 
probably  near  the  present  St.  Stephen's  Gate.     The 

*  PEFSt,  1903,  p.  247  footnote. 

t  It  does  not  appear  whether  this  tower  was  one  of  Herod's 
const  ructious  or  of  later  date,  but  the  latter  now  seema  the  more 
probable. 


PLAN    OF     JERUSALEM 

To  sh&v-  the  pt\fbahlti  posiiion,  of  the.  Wa2I&  ami 
Puhlw  Bujldm^e  duraui  the    life  of  Quisle 


\     Silvan  or 
f       Siloam 


?5G 


JERUSALEM 


JERUSALEM 


exact  course  at  the  N.E.  corner  is  very  doubtful ; 
it  is  quite  possible  that  it  turned  S.E.  near  '  Herod's 
Gate.'  It  will  be  observed  that  the  description 
fits  in  very  well  ^vith  the  course  followed  by 
the  existing  N.  wall.  At  the  Daniasciis  Gate 
there  are  unmistakable  evidences  that  a  gate  at 
least  as  ancient  as  Roman  times  stood  there.  The 
supporters  of  the  view  that  the  second  wall  ran 
here  lay  stress  on  certain  supposed  remains  of  the 
third  wall  further  north.  A  candid  examination 
of  such  of  these  as  survive,  and  of  the  accounts, 
both  verbally  and  in  publications,  of  those  that 
have  been  removed,  does  not  seem  very  convincing. 
One  of  the  best  marked  pieces,  forming  the  side  of 
&  cistern  near  Helena's  Tomb,  proved  on  recent 
examination  to  be  but  a  piece  of  smooth  scarp 
facing  towards  the  city,  and  not  remains  of  a  build- 
ing at  all. 

As  is  clear  from  the  history  of  the  taking  of  the 
city,  there  was  another  wall,  no  doubt  greatly 
inferior  in  strength  to  those  before  mentioned, 
wliich  ran  along  the  western  side  of  the  Tyropceon, 
bounding  in  that  direction  the  '  Upper  City ' 
(Tacitus,  Hist.  V.  11),  and  it  is  probable  that  some 
kind  of  wall,  though  doubtless  only  a  temporary 
one,  ran  along  the  opposite  or  eastern  side  of  the 
valley. 

Towers. — Of  the  great  towers  the  three  erected  by 
Herod  tlie  Great  yet  remain  to  be  described.  Jose- 
phus,  in  his  iisua"l  exaggerated  manner,  says  they 
'  were  for  largeness,  beauty,  and  strength  beyond 
all  that  were  in  the  habitable  earth '  {BJ  V.  iv.  3). 
They  were  dedicated  to  Herod's  friend  Hippicus, 
his  brother  Phasael,  and  his  wife  Mariamne,  wliom 
he  had  murdered.  Each  of  these  towers  was  of 
solid  masonry  at  the  base.  The  base  of  Hippicus 
was  about  44  feet  square  and  50  high,  o^■er  which 
was  a  reservoir  and  several  rooms,  and,  surmount- 
ing all,  battlements  with  turrets  :  the  total  height 
was  140  feet.  The  second  tower,  Phasael,  was  70 
feet  square  at  the  base  and  nearly  160  feet  high, 
and,  it  is  said, '  wanted  nothing  that  might  make  it 
appear  to  be  a  royal  palace.'  The  Mariamne  tower 
was  smaller  and  less  lofty,  but  'its  upper  buildings 
were  more  magnificent.  As  to  the  position  of 
these  towers,  the  present  '  Tower  of  David '  is 
generally  considered  to  contain  the  remains  of 
I'hasael,  with  various  Crusading  and   Saracenic 


additions.      Hippicus  must  have   been  near  this 

perhaps  wh 
and  Mariamne  probablj'  a  little  more  to  tlie  east 


spot,  perhaps  where  the  Jaffa  Gate  now  stands. 


on  higher  ground.  The  three  are  all  described 
being  'on  the  north  side  of  the  wall,'  and  from  a 
distance  they  all  appeared  to  be  of  the  same 
height.  The  N.W.  corner  of  the  city,  where  they 
stood,  was  one  w'ithout  much  natural  defence,  and 
they  bore  the  same  important  relation  to  the 
King's  Palace  as  the  other  fortress,  the  Antonia, 
did  to  the  Temple. 

Of  the  other  great  architectural  works  of  the 
period  we  have  but  scanty  description  and  still 
scantier  remains,  with  the  exception,  of  course,  of 
the  Temple,  for  which  see  art.  Temple. 

Herod's  great  palace,  built  on  the  site  of  the 
palace  of  the  Hasmonoeans  {Ant.  XX.  viii.  11),  evi- 
dently adjoined  tlie  before-mentioned  towers  on  the 
south,  and  occupied  an  area  of  land  now  covered  by 
the  English  church  and  schools  and  the  Armenian 
quarter,  probably  extending  also  to  the  Patriarch's 
house  ,Tiid  canlen^— tlie  croater  part,  indeed,  of 
theai.a  l„.i.,i,.,„  f|,,.  ,„r-,iit  David  Street  (along 
theliii.-..!  whirl,  thr  lii^t  «allran)  to  the  N.  and 
the  nio'lcni  city  w;ills  a<  t:ir  cast  as  the  Zion  Gate 
to  the  .south.  It  is  quite  possible  that  the  present 
course  of  the  southern  wall  was  determined  by  the 
remains  of  the  S.  wall  of  this  palace.  From  tlie 
walls  an  extensive  view  could  be  seen,  and  at  a 
later  time  Agrippa  II.  gave  great  offence  when  he 


added  a  lofty  dining-room  from  which  he  could 
watch  all  the  doings  in  the  Temple.  To  frustrate 
this,  the  Jews  raised  a  wall  upon  the  '  uppermost 
building  which  belonged  to  the  inner  court  of  the 
Temple  towards  the  west.'  This  gave  annoyance 
not  only  to  Agrippa  but  also  to  Festus,  who 
ordered  it  to  be  removed.  On  appeal,  however, 
Nero  gave  his  verdict  in  favour  of  the  Jews. 
Tlie  palace  had  walls,  in  parts  over  50  feet  high, 
with  many  towers,  and  was  internally  fitted  with 
great  luxury.  Around  it  were  numerous  porticos, 
with  'curious  pillars'  buried  among  groves  of  trees, 
and  gardens  well  irrigated  and  '  filled  with  brazen 
statues  through  which  the  water  ran  out.' 

Between  the  palace  grounds  and  the  Temple  lay 
the  Xystus,  a  gymnasium  surrounded  with  columns, 
for  Greek  games.  Connecting  the  W.  wall  of  the 
Temple  with  the  W.  liill  and  the  '  Upper  City,' 
was  a  bridge  which  had  been  broken  down  when 
Pompey  (Ant.  xiv.  iv.  i;BJl.  vii.  2)  besieged  the 
Temple  in  B.C.  65,  but  had  been  repaired.  The 
projecting  arch  of  this  bridge  was  first  recognized 
by  Kobinson,  and  the  PEF  excavations  not  only 
uncovered  the  central  pier,  but  beneath  the  early 
Koman  pavement  found  an  old  voussoir  of  the 
earlier  bridge  of  Pompey's  time,  which  had  fallen 
through  into  an  ancient  drain  below  the  street. 
No  remains  of  this  bridge  have,  however,  so  far 
been  recovered  further  to  the  west. 

The  hippodrome  apparently  lay  somewhat  to  the 
south,  on  the  borders,  perhaps,  of  the  Tyropceon 


Valley  near  the  present  Dung  Gate  ;  this  was  very 
probably  the  '  place  of  exercise '  of  2  Mac  4'^  (cf. 
1  Mac  1'"),  and  the  description  'under  the  very 


castle'  would  well  suit  this  place  if  Akra  was 
where  it  is  here  proposed  to  locate  it.  Of  the 
position  of  Herod's  theatre  nothing  at  all  is  known. 
Next  to  the  Temple,  perhaps  the  most  famous 
building  in  Jerusalem  was  Antonia,  the  great 
fortress  of  the  Temple,  and  the  acropolis  of  the 
city,  which  from  its  lofty  height  is  clescribed  by 
Tacitus  (Hist.  v.  11)  as  pre-eminently  conspicuous. 
It  had  received  the  name  Antonia  from  Herod 
after  Mark  Antony,  but  it  had  in  Hasmona\'in 
times  been  known  as  Baris.  Nehemiah  (2*  RV) 
mentions  a  castle  (birah)  as  being  here — to  the 
north  of  the  Temple:  this  the  high  priest  Hyrcanus 
(BJl.  vi.  1)  made  his  headquarters.  It  is  interest- 
ing that  at  least  a  portion  of  the  site  with  so  great 
a  reputation  as  a  military  stronghold  should  even 
to-day  be  ocmpi.d  by  troops — the  Turkish  garri- 
son. A  gri:it  r.irk  scirp  on  which  part  of  the 
ancient  fort ir-~  ^tniid  i^  still  clearly  visible  from 
the  Haraiii,  xmA  in  the  moat  cut  to  protect  its 
northern  aspect  lie  the  '  Twin  Pools.'  The  fortress 
lay  at  the  N.W.  comer  of  the  Temple  enclosure, 
and  is  described  by  Josephus  as  being  built  on  a 
rock  o\ev  87  feet  high,  '  on  a  great  precipice ' ;  the 
rock  was  covered  with  smooth  stones,  and  upon 
the  rocky  platform  was  a  building  70  feet  liigli 
fitted  up  with  great  magnificence.  At  the  four 
comers  were  towers  87  feet  high,  except  that  at  the 
S.E.  corner,  which  was  over  120  feet  high ;  from  it 
the  whole  Temple  was  overlooked,  but  a  consider- 
able space  separated  it  from  the  Temjile  itself  (BJ 
VI.  ii.  5-7).  At  the  AV.  comer  there  were  passages 
into  the  W.  and  the  N.  cloisters  by  which  the 
Temple  guards  could  obtain  access  to  the  Temple. 
The  Western  boundary  was  probably  on  the  line 
of  the  present  W.  wall  of  the  Haram,  and  the 
moat  (BJ  V.  iv.  2)  to  the  N.  appears  to  have  been 
demonstrated,  but  the  S.  and  E.  boundaries  are 
unknown.  The  total  area  must  have  been  large, 
as  it  held  a  whole  Roman  legion,  and  it  is  clear 
from  history  that  it  was  a  powerful  foj tress.  Even 
before  its  extension  by  Herod,  Antigonus  could 
not  capture  it  until  after  the  city  and  the  Temple 
had   been   taken   by  storm,   and   in   A.D.   70  the 


JERUSALE:\r 


JERUSALEM 


857 


capture  of  Antonia  is  recorded  as  one  of  the 
fiercest  of  the  iii.'lits  of  tlie  siege  (BJ  VI.  i.  and  ii. ). 
It  is  commonly  ))elieved  that  t\\&  Prmtorium  (M\i 
15""-)  ^^as  in  ]jart  of  Antonia,  for  there  un- 
doubtedly was  the  Ivoman  garrison  (Ac  2]?*).  See 
Pe^torium. 

Near  the  W.  wall  of  the  Temple  where  is  now 
the  Turkish  Town  Hall  (el-Mehlcemeh)  was  the 
To^vn  Council  House.  Possibly  it  was  here  the 
high  priest  held  his  court. 

The  palaces  of  Monobazus,  king  of  Adiabene,  and 
of  his  mother  Queen  Helena  appear  to  have  been 
on  the  southern  slopes  of  the  Eastern  hill,  the 
former  probably  due  east  of  the  Pool  of  Siloam. 

Of  the  great  number  of  tombs  around  Jerusalem 
the  majority  of  the  most  conspicuous  and  notable 
belong  to  a  later  period  than  Christ's  life.  The 
monuments  of  Queen  Helena,  known  as  the 
•Tombs  of  the  Kings,'  and  probably  almost  all 
the  tombs  in  the  valley  in  which  the  '  Tombs  of 
the  Judges '  are  situated,  are  of  a  date  very  soon 
after  Christ's  death.  The  same  is  probably  true 
of  the  famous  group  of  tombs  near  the  S.E.  corner 
of  the  Temple,  the  so-called  '  Pillar  of  Absalom,' 
the  '  Tomb  of  Jehoshaphat,'  the  '  Grotto  of  St. 
James,'  and  the  'Pyramid  of  Zacharias.'  It  is 
very  tempting  to  connect  these  highly  ornamented 
tomb  structures  with  the  words  of  Jesus  (Mt 
23-'-^),  spoken  as  they  probably  were  almost 
within  sight  of  this  spot.  If  so,  the  indications 
of  work  of  a  later  period  may  be  additions  to 
earlier  constructions  of  the  Herodian  era.  The 
so-called  Tombs  of  Joseph  of  Arimathtea  and  of 
Nicodemus,  to  the  W.  of  the  shrine  of  the  Holy 
Sepulclire,  though  only  by  a  late  tradition  asso- 
ciated with  these  NT  characters,  are  undoubtedly 
old  tombs,  probably  much  before  Christ's  time. 
The  traditional  tomb  of  Christ  has  been  treated  in 
a  .separate  article.    See  Golgotha. 

A  general  view  of  the  city  in  the  time  of  Christ 
from  such  a  height  as  Olivet  must  have  been  an 
impressive  sight.  In  the  foreground  lay  the  great 
Temple  in  a  grandeur  and  beauty  greater  than  it 
had  ever  had  in  all  its  long  history,  its  courts  all 
day  crowded  with  throngs  of  worshippers  from 
every  corner  of  the  known  world.  To  the  north  of 
this,  Antonia,  with  its  four  massive  towers,  stood 
sentinel  over  the  city  and  the  Temple.  Behind 
these  lay  the  Upper  City  crowned  by  the  magnili- 
cent  palace-fortress  of  Herod,  with  its  great  groves 
of  trees  and  well-watered  gardens.  To  the  right 
of  this  lay  the  great  towers  Hippicus,  Phasael,  and 
Mariamne.  Then  between  these  buildings  and  the 
Temple  lay  the  central  valley  with  the  Xystus  and 
its  many  columns,  the  lofty  bridge,  and,  a  little  to 
the  south,  the  great  Hippodrome.  Then  some- 
where among  the  houses,  which  rose  tier  above 
tier  from  the  valley,  very  probably  in  that  part  of 
the  city  which  is  described  by  Josephus  (Ant.  XV. 
viii.  1 )  as  like  an  amphitheatre  itself,  lay  the  theatre 
of  Herod,  doubtless  facing  the  distant  mountains 
of  Moab.  Then  southward,  covering  both  the  hills 
as  they  descended  into  the  deep  valleys  towards 
Siloam,  were  the  thick  built  houses  of  the  common 
folk,  with  other  palaces  such  as  those  of  Monobazus 
and  Helena  rising  like  islands  from  among  them. 
Enclosing  all  were  the  mighty  walls  of  the  Temple 
and  of  the  city — these  latter  alone  with  a  hundred 
towers — rising  up,  in  many  places  precipitously, 
from  deep  valleys,  suggestive  at  once  of  strength 
and  security.  To  the  north  lay  the  New  City,  yet 
unwalled,  where,  doubtless,  countless  villas  rose 
amid  the  fresh  greenness  of  gardens  and  trees. 

'The  devil  taketh  him  up  into  an  exceeding 
high  mountain,  and  sheweth  him  all  the  kingdoms 
of  the  world,  and  the  glory  of  them  '  (Mt  4").  Did 
they  not  all  lie  beneath  the  gaze  of  the  Man  of 
Galilee  if  He  were  brought  from  the  neighbouring 


wilderness  into  the  blaze  of  material  glory — Greek, 
Koman,  and  Hebrew — spread  out  beneath  Him  in 
the  Holy  City! 

The  city  over  which  the  Son  of  Man  wept  (Lk 
19''')  must  have  been  a  city  representing,  in  small 
area,  more  extravagant  display,  more  intense 
contra.sts  of  materialism  and  religious  zeal,  of 
Rome's  iron  discipline  and  seething  rebellion,  of 
the  East  and  the  West,  and  more  seeds  of  that 
fanatic  hatred  that  spells  murder  than  the  world 
has  ever  seen.  Elements  were  here  gathered  that 
made  the  city  a  miniature  of  the  whole  world,  of  a 
world,  too,  hastening  to  destruction. 

The  total  population  of  the  city  cannot  have 
been  large,  and  the  numbers  given  by  Josephus 
(BJn.  xiv.  2,  V.  vi.  1,  VI.  ix.  3)  and  Tacitus  (Hist. 
V.  13)  are  manifestly  exaggerated.  The  present 
permanent  population  of  modern  Jerusalem,  which 
covers  a  considerably  larger  area  than  the  city  in 
the  time  of  Christ,  is  about  65,000.  However 
closely  the  people  were  packed  in  the  ancient  city, 
it  is  hardly  possible  that  there  could  have  been  so 
many  as  this,  and  many  put  the  estimate  at  one- 
half  this  number.  At  the  time  of  the  Passover, 
when  numbers  were  camped  on  the  Mount  of 
Olives  and  at  other  spots  around,  it  is  possible  to 
believe  that  the  population  may  have  been  con- 
siderably higher  than  that  of  to-day. 

6.  History  of  Jerusalem  during  the  period 
OP  the  Gospels. — For  a  few  short  years  before 
the  birth  of  Jesus,  Jerusalem  enjoyed  a  time  of 
extraordinary  material  prosperity,  during  which  the 
great  architectural  works  of  Herod  the  Great  were 
completed.  It  is  evident,  as  has  often  been  the 
case  in  the  East,  that  this  work  was  carried  out 
only  by  means  of  great  opijression,  so  that  the  king, 
while  he  left  behind  him  vast  monimients  in  stone, 
left  also  a  memory  execrated  in  the  hearts  of  the 
common  people.  Some  twenty  years  before  the 
birth  of  Jesus  the  magnificent  palace  of  Herod  was 
finished  ;  *  the  three  great  towers,  the  theatre, 
the  Xystus,  and  the  Hippodrome  (these  last  two 
adorned,  if  not  initiated,  by  Herod)  were  completed 
early  in  his  reign.  Several  years  (B.C.  19-11)  were 
also  spent  in  adorning  and  extending  the  Temple, 
a  work  which  was  being  continued  during  the  life 
of  Christ  (Jn  22»).  At  this  time  the  Temple  must 
have  attained  a  grandeur  and  beauty  exceeding  all 
previous  eras.  Yet  the  declining  days  of  Herod  the 
Great  found  the  city  seething  with  rebellion,  which, 
just  before  his  death,  found  vent  in  the  public 
destruction  of  the  golden  eagle  (BJ  I.  xxxiii.) 
which  he  had  erected  over  the  gate  of  the  Temple. 
In  revenge  for  this  forty  persons  were  burnt  alive, 
and  others  were  executed  in  less  terrible  ways. 
When  tlie  king  considered  that  his  last  hour  was 
imminent,  he  shut  into  the  Hippodrome  the  most 
illustrious  of  the  Jews,  with  orders  that  they 
should  be  executed  when  he  died,  so  that  the  city 
might  on  his  death  be  filled  with  mourning,  even 
if  not  for  him. 

Herod's  death  in  B.  C.  4,  the  year  of  the  Nativity,  let 
loose  on  all  sides  the  disorderly  elements.  Arche- 
laus,  the  heir  by  Herod's  will,  advertised  his  acces- 
sion by  ascending  a  golden  throne  in  the  Temple 
on  a  'high  elevation  made  for  him,'  and  hastened 
to  ingratiate  himself  by  promising  all  kinds  of  good 
things  to  the  expectant  and  worshipping  crowds. 
He  was,  however,  unable  to  satisfy  the  excessive 
and  exacting  demands  of  the  unruly  crowds,  who 
had  been  deeply  stirred  by  the  heavy  punishment 
meted  out  by  Herod  in  the  aft'air  of  the  golden 
eagle,  and  at  the  approach  of  the  Passover  a  riot 
followed  which  ended  in  the  massacre  of  three 
thousand  Jews— mainly  visitors  to  the  feast,  who 
were  encamped  in  tents  outside  the  Temple.  Arche- 
laus  forthwith  hastened  to  Rome  to  have  his  ap- 
•  Palace  built  B.C.  24  ;  Temple  restored  B.C.  19-11.  ' 


jerusale:m 


JERUSALEJI 


pointment  confirmed,  leaving  the  city  in  utter 
confusion.  As  soon  as  lie  had  taken  ship,  Sabinus, 
the  Roman  procurator,  hastened  to  the  city,  seized 
and  garrisoned  the  king's  palace  and  all  the  forti- 
iied  posts  of  wliich  he  could  get  possession,  and 
laid  hands  on  all  the  treasures  he  could  find.  He 
endeavoured  to  assert  his  authority  -with  a  view  to 
opposing  the  absent  Archelaus,  for  he  at  the  same 
tmie  sent  to  Rome  a  letter  accusing  him  to  Ca;sar. 
At  the  succeeding  feast  of  Pentecost  the  crowds  of 
Galilajans,  Idumteans,  and  trans-Jordan  Jews,  with 
recruits  from  the  more  unrestrained  elements  from 
Jerusalem,  rose  in  open  rebellion,  and  commenced 
to  besiege  Sabinus  in  the  palace.  One  party 
assembled  along  the  whole  ^\  .  wall  of  the  Temple 
to  attack  from  the  east,  another  towards  the  south 
at  the  Hippodrome,  and  a  third  to  the  west — 


outside    the    W.   walls  of    the  cit 
binus,    who    seems    to    have    been    an    arra 


apparently 
Sabinus,    w 


coward,  sent  an  appeal  for  help  to  Varus,  tlie 
governor  of  Syria,  who  was  then  in  Antioch,  and 
shut  himself  up  in  the  tower  Phasael.  From 
there  he  signalled  to  the  troops  to  fall  upon  the 
people.  A  terrible  fight  ensued,  at  first  in  the 
city  itself  and  then  in  the  Tyropoeon  Valley,  from 
which  the  Roman  soldiers  shot  up  at  the  rioters 
assembled  in  the  Temple  cloisters.  Finding  them- 
selves at  great  disadvantage  from  their  position  in 
the  valley,  the  soldiers  in  desperation  set  tire  to 
the  cloisters,  and  their  Jewish  opponents,  crowiled 
within  and  upon  the  roof,  were  either  burnt  to 
death  or  were  slaughtered  in  attempting  to  escape. 
Some  of  the  soldiers  pursuing  their  victims  through 
the  flames  burst  into  the  Temple  precincts  and 
seized  the  sacred  treasures ;  of  these  Sabinus  is 
stated  to  have  received  40lJ  talents  for  himself. 
Upon  this,  other  parties  of  Jews,  exasperated  by 
these  afi'airs,  made  a  counter  attack  upon  the 
palace  and  threatened  to  set  it  on  fire.  They  first 
offered  a  free  pass  to  all  who  would  come  out 
peaceably,  whereupon  manj-  of  Herod's  soldiers 
came  out  and  joined  the  Jews  ;  but  Rufus  and 
Gratus  with  a  band  of  horsemen  went  over  to  the 
Romans  with  three  thousand  soldiers.  Sabinus 
continued  to  be  besieged  in  the  palace,  the  walls 
of  which  the  Jews  commenced  to  undermine, 
until  Varus  arrived,  after  which  he  slunk  away 
to  the  seacoast.  The  Jerusalem  Jews  excused 
themselves  to  the  governor  by  laying  all  the 
blame  on  their  fellow-countrymen  from  other  parts. 
Varus  suppressed  the  rebellion  with  ruthless  firm- 
ness, crucifying  two  thousand  Jews ;  and  then, 
leaving  a  legion  in  the  city  to  maintain  order,  he 
returned  to  Antioch.  Archelaus  returned  some 
months  later  as  ethnarch,  and  ruled  for  ten  years, 
until,  being  accused  to  Ctesar  of  oppression,  he  was 
banished  to  Vienne. 

During  the  rule  of  Coponius  (6-10),  the  pro- 
curator who  succeeded,  another  Passover  disturb- 
ance occurred.  This  was  due  to  the  extiaordinarj- 
and  defiant  conduct  of  a  party  of  Samaritans,  who 
threw  some  dead  bodies  into  the  cloisters  of  the 
Temple  just  after  midnight,— a  step  which  must, 
without  doubt,  have  deepened  tlie  smouldering 
hatred  between  Jews  and  Samaritans  (Jn  4^). 
Marcus  Ambivius  (11-12)  and  Annius  Rufus  (13) 
after  short  and  uneventful  terms  of  office  were 
succeeded  by  Valerius  Gratus  (14-25),  whose  eleven 
years  were  marked  only  by  the  many  changes  he 
made  in  the  high  priesthood.  His  successor, 
Pontius  Pilate  (2(>-37),  left  the  stamp  of  his  char- 
acter on  secular  history  by  making  a  great  show 
of  authority,  in  constituting  Jerusalem  the  military 
headquarters,  and  introducing  Coesar's  effigies  into 
the  city,  but  entirely  reversing  this  policy  when  it 
was  vigorously  opposed  by  the  more  fanatic  ele- 
ments of  the  Jews.  On  this  occasion  a  gieat 
gathering  of  Jews  assembled  in,  apparently,  the 


Xystus  {4v  T(j  /leyiXoi  (TTaSiw),  and  preferred  to  bare 
their  necks  to  Pilate's  soldiers  to  withdrawing  their 
demands  {Anf.  XVIII.  iii.  1).  Mention  has  already 
been  made  of  the  '  current  of  water '  Pilate  brought 
to  Jerusalem,  and  the  riot  which  followed  because 
he  used  for  the  work  'sacred  money'  of  the 
Temple.  When  persuasions  had  failed  to  q^uell 
the  tumult,  Pilate  gave  a  signal  to  the  soldiers, 
whom  he  had  distributed  in  disguise  through  the 
crow  d,  and  many  were  killed  and  wounded  {Ant. 
XVIII.  iii.  2). 

The  whole  secular  history  as  given  by  Josephus 
shows  in  what  an  excitable  and  unstable  condition 
tlie  Jews  were,  specially  at  the  time  of  the  feasts, 
when  the  city  was  filled  by  outsiders.  In  such  a 
city  it  is  not  wonderful  that  twice  (Jn  8™  l(f' ) 
Jesus  \\  as  threatened  with  stoning;  The  histories 
of  p.ist  I'ussovers  in  the  Holy  City  may  have  made 
Pil:ite  arutely  anxious  as  to  whither  the  commo- 
tion connected  with  the  arrest  of  Jesus  was  tend- 
ing ;  the  leaders  of  the  Jews,  on  the  other  hand, 
had  doubtless  learnt  by  their  victory  in  the  matter 
of  Caesar's  effigies  to  anticipate  that,  if  they  blus- 
tered and  threatened  enough,  Pilate  was  unlikely 
finally  to  withstand  their  demands. 

7.  Jerusalem  in  the  Gospels.  —  The  earliest 
Gospel  incident  connected  with  the  city  is  the 
foretelling  to  Zacharias  in  the  Temple  of  the  birth 
of  John  the  Baptist  (Lk  P'^) ;  the  second,  the 
arrival  of  the  Magi  to  inquire  in  the  city  where  the 
'king  of  the  Jews'  was  born  (Mt  2'"'"').  Shortly 
after  this  occur  the  purification  of  the  Virgin 
Mary  and  the  presentation  of  Jesus  in  the  Temple 
(Lk  2---^) ;  and  some  twelve  years  later  the  first  (?) 
Passover  of  Jesus  in  the  Holy  City  and  the  inci- 
dent of  His  staying  behind  to  discuss  with  the 
doctors  in  the  Temple  (Lk  2-"-'»).  After  this,  with 
the  exception  of  one  brief  scene  in  the  Temptation 
(Mt  4^),  the  Synoptics  are  silent  regarding  any 
events  in  the  city  untO  the  last  week  of  His  life. 
It  is  clear  that  Jesus  rather  avoided  the  city,  and 
that  the  city  was  hostile  to  Him.  It  was  Jerusalem 
as  the  centre  of  Jewish  religious  life  which  alone 
drew  Jesus  there;  almost  exclusively  His  being 
there  was  connected  with  attendance  at  a  feast ; 
and,  with  the  single  exception  of  the  incident  at 
the  Pool  of  Bethesda,  all  His  doings  were,  till  the 
last  week,  in  the  courts  of  the  Temple.  In  the 
Fourth  Gospel  there  is  mention  of  a  Passover  at 
which  Jesus  cleansed  the  Temple,  and  later  had 
His  discourse  with  Nicodemus  (Jn  2'^  3'""').  Then 
a  year  and  a  half  after,  while  He  was  attending 
the  Feast  of  Tabernacles,  occurred  the  incidents  of 
the  adulteress  and  the  blind  man  ( Jn  7'-  8*"-  9"-)i  end- 
ing in  an  attempt  to  arrest  Him  and  a  threatened 
stoning.  A  little  later  in  the  year,  at  the  Feast  of 
Dedication,  He  appeared  in  the  Temple  and  was 
again  threatened  with  stoning  (Jn  10--"''").  After 
the  raising  of  Lazarus  at  Bethany,  Jesus  deliber- 
ately avoided  entering  the  city,  but  shortly  after- 
wards He  determinately  turned  His  face  towards 
it,  with  the  consciousness  that  suft'ering  and  death 
inevitably  awaited  Him  there  (Mk  10'-'*'). 

Wlien  at  last  the  step  of  return  to  the  metropolis 
had  been  taken  and  the  triumjihal  entry  into  the 
city  (Mt  2P-",  Mk  IV''",  Lk  19-"-",  Jn  12'=-")  and 
the  second  cleansing  of  the  Temple  (Mt  21"-"', 
Mk  IP',  Lk  lO''^' ■"')  had  occurred,  Jesus  seems  to 
have  gladly  withdrawn  Himself  night  after  night 
from  the  turmoil  of  the  city  to  the  quiet  of  the 
village  life  of  Bethany,  out  of  sight  of  the  sad  and 
tragic  city  over  which  He  couUl  but  weep  (Lk 
lO-"-").  The  night  of  His  arrest  seems  to  have 
been  tho  first  in  ihat  fateful  week  He  spent  in  the 
iimii.'iliii.'  .iiMioHsof  the  city.     Then  during  the 

clo-ii  L  ,]:,\.  ,.  teaching  by  the  miracle  of  the 

fi^t].  i  Ml  Jl  --.  -Mk  11-"-^)  and  by  parable 
(the  \\iLkLa   Uiisbaiidmen,  the  Ten   Virgins.nlie 


JERUSALEIM 


JESUS 


859 


Sheep  and  the  Goats),  as  well  as  by  direct  predic- 
tion, to  enforce  tlie  lesson  that  judgment  on  tlie 
city  and  the  nation  was  nigh  at  hand.  The  wicked- 
ness and  hypocrisy  of  the  city  led  to  the  sterner 
denunciations  of  the  scribes  and  Pharisees  by  One 
who  considered  that  their  doom  was  practically 
sealed  (Mt  23).  Only  in  the  incidents  of  the  widow's 
mite  (Mk  12*'-",  Lk  21'-')  and  in  the  coming  of  the 
Greek  strangers  to  Jesus  (Jn  12^-'")  is  there  any 
sign  of  this  lifting  of  the  heavy  clouds  of  approach- 
ing tragedy.  The  efforts  of  Pharisees,  Sadducees, 
and  la^vyers  to  catch  Him  in  some  political  in- 
discretion or  unorthodoxy  in  His  teaching  were 
alike  foiled,  and  at  length  the  leaders  of  the  Jews 
made  their  unholy  compact  witli  the  traitor  Judas. 

As  the  first  day  of  Unleavened  Bread  drew  nigh, 
the  disciples  were  sent  into  the  city  to  prepare  the 
Passover.  The  scene  of  this  incident  is  to-day 
pointed  out  as  an  upper  room  (50  feet  by  30  feet) 
near  the  modern  Zion  gate  of  the  city  ;  tradition, 
according  to  Epiphanius,  records  that  this  was  one 
of  the  few  buildings  ^^  liioh  escaped  destruction  by 
Titus.  It  is  certainly  on  the  site,  even  if  it  is  not 
the  actual  room,  referred  to  by  Bishop  Cyril  of 
Jerusalem  in  the  middle  of  the  4th  cent,  as  the 
place  where  the  disciples  were  assembled  on  the 
day  of  Pentecost.  Arculf  is  the  first  (about 
A.D.  685)  to  point  it  out  as  the  C'cenaculum.  Since 
1561  the  buildings,  with  the  traditional  tomb  of 
David  adjoining,  have  been  in  the  hands  of  the 
Moslems. 

After  the  Supper,  Jesus  withdrew  with  His  dis- 
ciples to  the  Garden  of  Gethseraane.  The  fact 
that  He  crossed  the  Kidron  points  to  some  spot 
on  the  lower  slopes  of  the  Mount  of  Olives,  and 
tradition  since  the  4th  cent,  has  fixed  on  one  which 
is  now  preserved  as  a  garden  by  the  Franciscans. 
If  the  site  of  the  Caenaculum  is  correct,  it  is  prob- 
able that  Jesus  reached  Gethsemane  along  the 
line  of  the  paths  now  running  outside  the  S.  wall 
of  the  city,  leaving  the  city  south  of  the  Temple. 

After  arrest,  Jesus  was  taken  by  the  soldiers 
to  the  palace  of  the  high  priest  in  the  Temple 
precincts.  Probably  the  procession  followed  the 
general  direction  of  the  road  which  to-day  runs 
from  Gethsemane  to  St.  Stephen's  gate,  though 
there  are  indications  that  in  ancient  times  this 
road  was  more  direct  than  it  now  is.  In  the  early 
morning  He  was  brought  before  Pilate  in  the 
Prfetorium,  and  he  in  turn  sent  Him  (Lk  23'"")  to 
Herod  Antipas,  tetrarch  of  Galilee,  who  happened 
to  be  in  Jerusalem  at  the  time.  The  natural  place 
where  Herod  would  have  his  quarters  would  be  in 
some  part  of  his  father's  palace  on  the  W.  hill,  and 
it  may  well  be  argued  by  those  who  think  it  more 
likely  that  the  Pra-toriuni  was  in  the  same  en- 
closure, that  it  is  hardly  probable  that  Pilate 
would  have  lightly  risked  sending  Jesus  twice 
through  the  streets  when  so  many  Galikeans  were 
about  the  city. 

After  the  condemnation  came  the  procession  to 
Golgotha.  The  traditional  route  of  this,  known  as 
the  Via  Dolorosa,  has  been  selected  on  very  slender 
grounds ;  indeed,  all  the  '  stations  of  the  cross ' 
on  the  way  have  varied  greatly  from  time  to  time. 
Even  the  first  station,  the  site  of  the  PrKtorium, 
has  been  placed  in  m.uiy  juu  1  ^  of  the  city.  In  the 
4th  cent,  it  was  nr.u-  th.'  i-iv^rnt  liab  d-KaUanin, 
two  centuries  lat IT  ii  ^^,■i^  uluIvimI  by  the  basilica 
of  St.  Sophia.  Duiiiiu'  Um'  I'rusading  period  it 
was  placed  first  on  the  NV.  hill,  under  the  idea  that 
Pilate's  house  must  have  been  near  the  Royal 
Palace,  as  several  good  modern  authorities  think 
it  was ;  but  at  a  later  period  it  was  transferred  to 
the  present  Turkish  barracks,  indisputalily  on  some 
part  of  the  site  of  Antonia,  as  the  mme  iirol.al.Ir. 
The  starting-point  of  the  Via  Doloios.i,  hcin-  so 
arbitrarily  fixed,  it  necessarily  follu^Ns   that   the 


various  'stations  of  the  cross'  are  the  flimsiest 
traditions.  The  second  station — where  the  cross 
was  laid  on  Jesus — is  below  the  steps  descending 
from  the  barracks.  Near  this  is  the  well-known 
Ecce  Homo  arch — a  construction  of  the  2nd  cent. ; 
and  inside  the  adjoining  institution  of  the  Sisters 
of  Zion  is  shown  a  large  sheet  of  pavement  belong- 
ing to  the  Roman  period  (and  identified  by  the 
Latin  authorities  as  the  Gabbatha  of  Jn  19"), 
which  may  quite  possibly  have  been  in  position  at 
the  time  of  the  Crucifixion :  part  of  its  surface 
belongs  to  a  street.  The  third  station  is  shown 
where  the  street  from  the  barracks — Tarik  bub  Sitii 
il/j;-ia?n— joins  the  carriage  road  from  the  Damascus 
Gate,  running  along  the  ancient  Tyropccon  Valley  ; 
the  spot  is  marked  by  a  broken,  prostrate  column. 
Here  Jesus  sank  under  the  weight  of  the  cross. 
A  few  yards  farther  down  the  carriage  road,  the 
fourth  station — where  Jesus  met  His  mother — lies 
on  the  right.  At  the  next  turning  to  the  right  is 
the  ffth  station,  where  Simon  of  Cyrene  took  the 
cross  from  Jesus  ;  and  if  we  ascend  this  street  by  a 
series  of  steps,  the  sixth  station — the  scene  of  the 
incident  of  St.  Veronica's  handkerchief — is  found, 
near  where  the  road  becomes  arched  over.  When 
the  Via  Dolorosa  crosses  the  central  street  of  the 
city,  &uk  es-Scmany,  the  procession  is  supposed 
to  have  left  the  city  walls.  This  is  the  seventh 
station.  The  eighth  station,  where  Jesus  admon- 
ished the  women  not  to  weep  for  Him  but  for 
themselves  (Lk  23-''-  '-^),  lies  up  the  ascent  towards 
the  Church  of  the  Sepulchre;  and  the  ninth  station, 
where  Jesus  is  said  to  ha\'e  fallen  a  second  time 
under  the  weight  of  the  cross,  is  in  front  of  the 
Coptic  monastery.  The  remaining  five  stations 
are  included  in  the  Church  of  the  Sepulchre,  for 
which  see  art.  Golgotha. 

The  last  mention  of  Jerusalem  in  the  Gospels  is 
in  the  injunction  to  the  disciples  to  begin  preaching 
the  gospel  there  (Lk  24").  The  full  force  of  this, 
and  the  necessity  for  their  being  specially  com- 
manded, is  fully  realized  only  when  it  is  seen  what 
a  unique  position  Jerusalem  held  in  the  mind  of 
Jesus,  as  was  recognized  by  His  regular  attend- 
ance at  the  Temple  services  and  the  periodical 
feasts ;  how  (ieep  was  His  pity  for  its  close  ajj- 
proaching  doom  ;  how  bitter  had  been  the  hostility 
to  His  teaching  and  His  claims ;  and,  lastly,  how 
extraordinarily  important  was  Jerusalem  at  that 
time  as  a  meeting  -  place  of  many  intensely  held 
religious  ideals. 

Literature.— This  is  enormous,  and  to  attempt  an  exhaustive 
analysis  would  here  be  out  of  place.  The  authorities  mentioned 
below  are  only  some  of  those  of  which  the  writer  has  himself 
made  use,  and  in  the  ^reat  majority  of  instances  the  references 
are  only  to  modern  writers. — 

The  Bible,  the  Apocrypha,  the  works  of  Josephus,  and  the 
EUtortj  of  Tacitus ;  the  volume  '  Jerusalem  '  in  the  Memoirs  of 
the  PEF(li,ii);  Rev.  W.  F.  Birch  in  PEFSt ;  Bliss  and  Dickie, 
Excavations  m  Jerusalem  (lb94-lS'J7) ;  Hr.  T.  Clupliii  on  the 
Climate  of  Jerusalem  m  P£J''i(,  1883  ;  Cniiil.i,  ut   'J.iusilem' 

Hastings' 2>i3,  and  many  other  woilis   it   (  ]  i]    is,  i  I  iishtr. 


'  .Meteorological  observ 
phlet;  Richard  Gottheil,  art. 
pcdia  (1904);  Re\.  E.  Han.iu 
various  papers  in  the  FEF^ 
TUus  (1863);  Prof.  Mitchell, 


le  Walls  of  JeiUh.^lem  in 
JBZ/(1903);  Porter  in  Murray's  Giade  Jliiol,^;  RohMibon's  BItP 
(1858) ;  Sanday,  Sacred  Sites  of  the  Go!,peli,  (19Ui) ;  .Si  luck,  '  Die 
Wasserversorgung  der  Stadt  Jerusalem'  m  iIil  /HI  r  (IS78), 
and  many  papers  in  the  Pr/  ^t  .iml  . '  11  \ilani 

Smith,  artt.  -Jerusalem'  \n  J-ii  i       I  I    '  ,  I'HIS 

andl905;  W.  R.  Smith,  pait  111  111      1   i  I, flit.; 


1..  \V.  G.  Mastkrman. 
ciOOB. — The   father  of   king  David,   named   in 
ur  Lord's  genealogy  (Mt  P'-,  Lk  y"-). 

JESUS  (the  name). — It  is  strange  that  even  this 


8R0 


JESUR 


JESUS 


naiiie  has  not  yet  been  explained  with  certainty. 
'IjjcroCs  (sen.,  dat.,  voc.  'IijiroD ;  ace.  'li^covi',  Mt  1' 
8^*,  Mk  1",  Mt  P'  [on  'Ijjo-oi  as  gen.  and  dat.  see 
Winer-Sehmiedel,  §  10,  note  6])  is  the  Greek  form 
of  the  Hebrew  ipa;  or  H^in:.  Aquila  has  for  tlie 
latter  (Dt  1^)  'Irjo-oua ;  in  some  passages  'IijcroDe  is 
found  (1  Ch  7=^  2Es  2«-  *) ;  see  Kedpath's  Concord- 


No  satisfactory  explanation  hag  j-et  been  offered  of  the 
varying  forms  i'i:'in;  and  yii:'-  The  high  priest,  for  instance, 
who  led  the  Jews  back  from  Babylon  with  Zerubbabel,  is 
constantly  called  fs'in;  in  the  prophetical  books  of  Haggai  and 
Zechariah  (RV  Joshua,'  not  '  Jehoshua,  as  in  the  name  of  his 
father  *  JcAozadak '),  and  with  equal  Donstancy  il>u\  in  the 
historical  books  of  Ezra  and  Nehemiah  (where  also  the  name 
of  his  father  is  written  in  the  abbreviated  form  *  Jozadak '). 
Were,  then,  both  forms  used  at  the  same  time?  Or  is  this  a 
hint  that  the  difference  is  due  to  later  recensions,  and  that  the 
fonn  '  Jeshua'  is  later  than  the  time  of  the  Exile?  Agfain,  how 
did  *Jehoahua.'  become  'y^shua'?  The  question  is  the  more 
difficult  as  nowhere  is  the  intermediate  form  'Joshua'  found, 
as  in  the  other  names  formed  with  '  Jeho-,"  e.g.  inxv  side  by 
side  with  lIJNin;,  etc.  The  nearest  parallel  seems  to  be  the 
name  of  the  king  of  Moab,  who  is  called  '  JIfpsha' '  (s;\?'C)  in  the 
MT  of  2K  S-l.  but  HI».»-i  in  the  LXX ;  or  the  name  M/oab,' 
which  is  explained  as  if  =>ne-'«6  in  Gn  1937.  The  reason  for 
the  vowel  change  has  been  sought  in  the  analogy  of  names 
beginning  with  el,  or  merely  on  phonetical  principles  (differ- 
entiation, as  r'tshon  from  rash,  etc.).  (For  quite  a  different 
explanation,  which  will  hardly  stand  examination,  see  Fr.  Pra- 
torius  in  ZDMG  lix.  342)  The  difficulty  is  increased  by  the 
fact  that  the  name  is  spelt  \limr\'  (with  ?)  but  twice  (Dt  321, 
Jg  27) ;  and  ytPin^  may  therefore  have  been  originally  *  Jehosha',* 
like  Vf^K  alongside  of  U^O'h«. 

Hitherto  it  has  generally  been  presupposed  that 
the  name  was  formed  from  the  root  V"''  '  to  save ' 
(or  rather  '  to  be  safe '),  like  yc'ii,  which,  according 
to  Nil  138*  '*  and  Dt  32",  was  the  earlier  name  of 
'Joshua';  cf.  the  name  ywin  on  a  Palestinian  jar- 
handle,  combined  by  Macalister  with  the  name  'Jiis" 
1  Ch  4="  (PEFSt,  1905,  p.  330).  But  the  dropping 
of  the  first  letter  is  not  easily  explained  on  this 
theory.  And  the  analogy  of  tne  names  yw,  U^o-h^, 
SiBinj  side  by  side  with  MB*,  Mw'^g,  y^rriS,  points  to 
the  possibility  that  ya'i.i;  is  related  to  il?'"^-,,  as  ipa 
is  to  yjBi  As  to  the  meaning  of  these  names 
nothing  is  certain.  That  to  popular  sentiment  the 
name  recalled  the  idea  of  salvation  is  proved  for  the 
OT  by  Nu  138- '«,  and  for  the  NT  by  Mt  1='  'Thou 
shalt  call  his  name  Jcsiis;  for  he  shall  save  his 
people  from  their  sins.'  Perhaps  also  in  ITh  1"> 
Iriaovv  rbv  pvd|i.cvov  V^'i  we  have  an  allusion  to  this 
etymology.  Greek  Christians  were  reminded  by 
the  name  of  the  root  idonai,  '  to  heal ' ;  cf.  Sib.  Or. 
i.  351  Kai  rdre  5?;  yocrfpovs  Itjo-cTai ;  Clem.  Al.  Pmdag. 
i.  7.  61  ToiovTov  ijflif  dfofjia  <riaTi]piov  TrpocptjTeueL  Trat- 
Sa7U7oO  .  .  .  'if'  oOs  6  X670S  6  Tei.dr/i'Los  ovk  idrai, 
direLXij  lao'crai,  /f.r.X.,  ib.  iii.  12.  98  6  tw^evos  ^^wc  Kai 
aCiiia  Kol  yj/vxWt  ''■*''  atSiov  dvSpuTov,  'lijaov! ;  Cyril  of 
Jerusalem,  Cateches.  x.  p.  88  'Itjo-oOs  roii'iii'  iari  Kara. 
TT)v  'EXXdSa  7Xu(r<ra;'  6  luficvos .  'EireiSaf  larpci;  iart. 
^vxuti'  Kal  ffu>fj.6.Tii3V^  Ka.1  depaTrevrr)^  irvevp-arbyv,  TV(p\u>v 
/liv  atffSriTwv  ffepairevriji  .  ,  ,  xwXuk  (patvo/xevuv  larpos  ; 
Epiphanius,  Jfa-r.  29,  Nazar.  §  4  'l7;<roi"s  70^  Kara 
TTlv  E^paiKTji'  didXeKToy  depaTrcvrrji  fcaXcirat,  tjtol  larpds 
Kal  aarrip.  Epiphanius  betrays  in  these  last  words 
also  a  knowledge  of  the  Hebrew  root ;  and  the 
same  is  the  case  -with  Chrysostom,  who  expressly 
states  (Horn.  2  in  Matth.  p.  23),  t6  yap  'IijeroPs  toCto 
6f0^a  OVK  IffTLv  'Vj\\y}VLKliv^  dXXa  tiJ  'E/3patwf  <pu)vrj  oOno 
\4y(Tai  'l7)ffoCs"  S  iariv  eh  Tr]v  'EXXdJa  yXwrrav  fpfiij- 
V€v6fi£f0Vf  ffWD^p*  CFwrrip  5^,  drd  rod  cCjffai  rbv  \abv 
avTou.  To  the  same  efl'ect  is  the  statement  of 
Eusebius  (Dcyn.  Ev.  iv.  17,  p.  199),  who  compares 
Christ  with  the  high  priest  of  the  Return,  and 
writes  on  their  names,  §  23,  Ei'k6tus  ovv  ttj^  €Ik6vo^ 
kveKa  Kal  oirros  Trjs  tov  o-coTTJpos  irpoa-riyoplas  tj^iouto  .  .  . 
^veidij  o-wTiiptov  Qiov  eis  rriv  'EXXdSa  <pwvT]v  t6  rou 
'ItjffoO  ixtTaXrjfpOtv  6vop.a  ff-qp.a'i.vii.'  Mcova  iilv  yip 
'E^/)afo(S  aojTTjpia,  vlbs  de  Nat'jy  Tapa  roh  auroTs  Mwirov^ 


ovo^ai^erat'  'luaovk  34  i<j7iv  'law  (XuiTtjpia^  tovt  ^ari 
Beov  (TojT-Qpiov.  eUdTws  et  irov  deov  iTwrrjptov  iv  rois 
'EXX7;i'i/iors  dvTtypd(pOL^  wi/bixaarai,  oi'5'  dXXo  n  ij  jbv 
'lri<Tovv  Kara  t7)I'  'Efipalav  (pwvriv  iriweLao  5-q\o0<T0ai.  ; 
cf.  also  Theodoret,  ii.  385,  on  Is  61'",  e;-  tji  'Y.^paluiv 
(fiidVTJ  TO  '  lixdrt-ov  awTtjpiou '  Ipidrtov  Uo'arua  Ketrat,  tout 
l<TTi  XpuTToO.  La,ga,Tde  (tibcrsirht,  i\  97)  concludes 
from  this  that  \JQ_a_>,  the  Syriac  form  of  the 
name,  had  a  double  ^. 

Already  in  the  oldest  MSS  of  the  _Gr._Test.  the 
name  is  written  with  abbreviations  ic,  lY,  in;  but 
occasionally  in  some  MSS,  and  regularly  in  the 
Codex  Bezce,  ihy  is  found  (in  the  Codex  Sinaiticus 
IHY  and  lY  in  consecutive  lines  in  Rev  22="-='). 
The  Epistle  of  Barnabas  seems  to  have  known  the 
abbreviation  IH,  because  the  number  318  (=tih) 
in  Gn  H"  is  explained  there  of  the  cross  of  Jesus ; 
and  the  same  inference  may  be  drawn  for  Irenseus 
from  a  comparison  of  the  texts  of  Irenaius,  Hippo- 
lytus,  and  Epiphanius  on  the  Marcosians  (see  EappT 
xvii.  [1905]  pp.  44,  139). 

H.  Leclercq,  in  art.  '  Abriviations '  in  Cabrol's  Diet.  d'Archiol. 
Chriticnne,  has  a  special  paragraph  *de  I'abr^viation  IHV, 
IHS'  (col.  177-lSO).  The  earliest  coins  exhibiting  the  symbol 
IHS  arc  of  Justinian  II.  (685-695,  and  705-711).  In  the  legend 
IbSVS  XPISTVS  NICA  found  on  coins  of  Constantine  11.  (780- 
791),  the  second  letter  is  pronounced  to  be  the  Greek  r,  despite 
the  C  in  NICA.  On  the  story  that  the  monogram  of  Christ  was 
found  written  on  the  heart  of  Ignatius  (fito^epe?),  when  at  his 
martyrdom  it  was  laid  bare  by  the  claws  of  the  lions,  see  A.  Bell, 
The  Saints  in  Christian  Art,  i.  [1901]  p.  205. 

On  the  power  of  the  name  "Iviff-oi:? ,  which  cannot  be  translated, 
see  Origen,  c.  Cels.  i.  25  :  like  the  names  llichael.  GabrieJ, 

Raphael,  xxi  i  ^ulTtpot  'Ir^traZi,  cu  TO  otafjca.  fAvpiotji  r,in  (yapyais 
iufictTeti  hoLtfjuiva;  iliXanrocv  -^i/xaiv  zixi  tnufjutTuf,  It/ipyri^etv  tiS  ixttvouS 

We  have  as  yet  no  explanation  of  the  statement  of  Irenaius : 
*  Jesus  autem  nomen  secundum  propriam  Hebraiorum  linguam 
litterarum  est  duarum  ac  dimidiae,  sicut  periti  eorum  dicunt, 
significans  dominum  euni,  qui  continet  coelum  et  terram,  quia 
Jesus  secundum  antiquani  Hebraicam  linguam  cesium  est :  terra 
autem  iterum  sura  usser  dicitur'  (=  sma  I'ERS?  'heaven  and 
earth').  In  another  passage  Irenaeus  writes;  'Nihilominus 
autem  et  unigenitus  et  maxime  autem  super  omnia  nomen, 
quod  dicitur  Deus,  quod  et  ipsum  hebraice  Bartcch  dicitur,  et 
duas  et  dimidium  habet  literas.' 

The  Jews  now  writi'  i::-,  wlii(  h  is  explained  by 
Handler  (icxico?!.  (/rr  A''!'i-rri,tf,ircn,  1897)  icu'  nn' 
insii,  by  Lagarde  {Mi//,  i/iiihj,  n.  ii.  '290)  n3Kn'i  'er  '• 
'  may  his  name  (and  meiuury)  be  wiped  out  (and 
perish) ' ;  Jastrow's  Dictionary  explains  it  as  an 
abbreviation  of  yiu" ;  Reuchlin  and  other  Christian 
Hebraists  wrote  the  name  rrnr.T,  as  a  combination 
of  the  tetragrammaton  mn\  with  v.  wherein  they 
found  deep  mysteries. 

The  first  letter  of  the  Greek  'Iijo-oPs  seems  to  be 
treated  as  a  consonant  in  the  hexameter 

*I(7aaA-  I  i)5  'laJAw^  ^\-q\aovs  Aai'tl7;X  t'  *HXmy, 
Sib.  Or.  ii.  247  ;  also  in  the  verse  of  Theodorus 
Prodromus :  rod  5'  'IjjcroO  OavdvTos  'loiiSaj  /i^j/ei.  On 
its  numerical  value  (10)  and  its  straight  form  see 
speculations  in  Clement's  Pmdag.  i.  9.  25  ^  evBc7a 
Kal  Kara  fpCtnv,  ijv  alviTTeraL  to  'Iwra  rod  'I7;(ro0,  7) 
dyaBuaivTi  ai'/roO,  and  ii.  43.  3,  the  psalter  of  ten 
strings ;  in  Epiphanius,  Hcer.  I.  3  =  the  10th  of 
Nisan,  on  which  the  Paschal  lamb  was  chosen  ;  the 
tithes  (ScKOToi  eruT-nptov  dpxr]  dvo/xaros  "iTjcroO)  in  Apost. 
Const,  ii.  25 ;  in  the  Oims  impcrf.  in  Mt.  (Migne, 
Ivi.  618). 

On  the  spelling  of  the  name  in  the  Latin  MSS  of 
the  Bible,  lesus,  Ihesus,  Hiesus,  see  Wordsworth- 
AVIiite  on  Mt  P  and  p.  776  ;  H.  J.  Lawlor,  Chapters 
on  the  Book  of  Mulling,  p.  76;  the  letter  of  Ama- 
larius  to  Bp.  Jonas  of  Orleans  and  to  Abp.  Jere- 
mias  of  Sens  'de  nomine  dni  Ie.su,'  whether  iho 
or  IHS  is  the  correct  spelling,  whether  the  middle 
letter  is  the  Greek  ij  or  the  Latin  h,  whether  the 
last  letter  is  Greek  or  Latin.  In  the  Russian 
Church  there  was  at  one  time  a  violent  disi)utn 
alxjut  this  orthographical  question.     In  mediieval 


JEWS 


JOHN  THE  BAPTIST 


861 


poetry,  for  instance  in  Ekkehart  IV.  of  St.  Gall, 
Jsus  is  made  to  rhyme  with  visus,  etc.  : 


DamasiLS  formed  the  lines : 

'  In  rebus  tantis  Trina  conjunctio  mundl 
Erigit  humanum  sensum  laudare  venustE, 
Sola  salus  nobis  et  mundi  sumnia  potestaS 
Venit  peccati  nodum  dissolvere  fructU 
Summa  salua  cunotis  nituit  per  secula  terriS." 

The  Mohammedan  form  'Isd  was  certainly 
adapted  to  get  an  assonance  -with  Musa  (like 
Ibrahim  with  Ismail,  Kabil  with  Habil),  and  not 
to  identify  the  name  with  Esau.  This  was  the 
more  easy  because  the  Nestorians  pronounced  the 
name  Is)id,  not  Jcshu  like  the  Jacobites.  On 
the  proposal  to  introduce  the  Mohammedan  form 
'Isa  instead  of  Gisu  into  the  Urdu  NT,  see  Bible 
House  Papers,  No.  iii.  p.  28. 

That  the  name  contains  4  vowels  and  one  consonant  doubled, 
and  has  the  numerical  value  S8S  (10+8+200+70+400+200),  is 
shown  by  Sib.  Or.  i.  32Gff.  and  by  the  speculations  of  the 
Marcosians  (Iren.  xv,  2  ;  Ilippol.  vi.  50). 

On  the  monograms  for  the  name  of  Jesus  see  PRE^  xii.  egp. 
p.  371  f.;  .Jerome,  *de  monogrammaXPl'  in  Amcdota  Maredao- 
tana,  iii.  3  (1903),  pp.  196-193 ;  P.  Cafaro,  I'ebreo  nome  Gem, 
Napoli,  1890,  p.  390. 

In  the  Ethiopian  Church  the  name  Jesus  is 
avoided  as  a  proper  name  {ZDMG  xxviii.  309) ; 
in  the  Syriac  Church  it  is  'stUl  very  commonly 
used  as  a  man's  name'  (Maclean,  Diet,  of  the  Dia- 
lects of  Vernacular  Syriac,  1901).  It  would  be 
an  interesting  task  to  collect  the  proper  names 
formed  with  Jesus  as  first  or  second  part ;  they 
seem  especially  frequent  in  the  Syriac  and  Persian 
Churches.  Eb.  Nestle. 

JEWS. — This  term,  originally  perhaps  applied 
only  to  men  of  the  tribe  of  Judali,  '  men  of  Judaea,' 


is  employed  in  the  Gospels  (1)  in  ojiposition  to 

Gentiles,  proselytes,  or  Samaritans  :  Mk  7^, 

49. 23  51  6-r  72  1910. 42 .  (2)  specially  of  Jews  as  an 


,  Jn  2<'- 1 


tagonistic  to  our  Lord,  a  usage  which  is  character- 
istic of  Jn.  as  distinguished  from  the  Synoptics : 
Mt  2815,  Jn  e"-"*-  S-"-^'  9'8  lO'"  ll"-3i.s3.36  10?.  n_ 
On  the  inferences  that  have  been  drawn  from  this 
usage  as  to  the  authorship  and  date  of  the  Fourth 
Gospel,  see  art.  John  (Gospel  of).  '  The  Jews ' 
in  this  sense  were  blind  followers  of  the  Pharisees, 
and  bitter  opponents  of  Christ.  Scrupulous  about 
all  the  practices  sanctioned  by  the  elders, — washing 
of  hands,  of  cups  and  pots  and  brazen  vessels. 
Sabbath  observance,  etc.  (Mk  7^-  *,  Jn  5'"  etc.), — 
they  had  forsaken  the  '  old  paths '  trodden  by 
their  fathers,  and  the  things  commanded  by  God. 
'  For  fear  of  the  Jews '  men  hesitated  to  confess 
Christ  (Jn  7^=  9=-). 

For  customs  of  the  Jews  see  art.  SOCIAL  LIFE. 
See  also  artt.  Israel  and  Jerusalem. 


i  the  Life  of  Christ,  ch.  x. 
JOAN  AN. — A  link  in  our  Lord's  genealogy  (Lk 


JOANNA  {'luima,  Tisch.  and  Revisers'  Text; 
but  'ludi'a,  WH  and  Nestle  ;  from  Aram.  Rjiji',  Heb. 
njnv). — The  wife  of  Chuza,  the  'steward'  of  Herod 
Antipas.  In  Lk  S''^  she  appears  as  one  of  certain 
women  who  had  been  healed,  and  in  gratitude  minis- 
tered to  Jesus  and  His  disciples.  The  passage  reads 
as  though  she  had  herself  derived  physical  benefit 
from  Jesus ;  but  it  is  possible,  as  Godet  suggests 
in  loc.,  that  the  'nobleman'  or  king's  officer  of  Jn 
4J6-53  yff^g^  Chuza.  If  so,  Joanna  may  have  been 
led  to  attach  herself  to  Christ  through  the  restora- 
tion of  her  son's  health,  or  even  of  his  life  if  the 
Johannine  narrative  is  to  be  identified  with  Mt 


85-1=  and  Lk  7'"".  The  latter  identification,  as  early 
as  Irenreus  (adv.  Emr.  ii.  33),  and  not  witliout  dis- 
tinguished supjjort  (Wetstein,  Ewald,  de  Wette, 
Baur),  is  attractive  but  precarious.  Joanna  is 
mentioned  again  in  Lk  24'°  as  one  of  the  women 
who  went  to  the  sepulchre  to  embalm  the  bodj'  of 
Jesus.  She  is  almost  certainly  the  same  person  as 
in  8^,  though  her  husband's  name  does  not  occur  in 
the  later  passage.  There  is  no  need  to  explain  the 
omission  by  a  suggestion  that  he  was  dead,  or  had 
become  obscure  tlirough  dismissal  from  his  office 
by  Antipas  because  of  the  relations  of  his  house- 
hold with  Jesus.  The  Evangelist  had  already 
sufficiently  marked  the  identity  of  Joanna,  who 
through  her  own  devotion  would  be  well  known  to 
the  disciples.    See  also  Chuza. 

R.  W.  Moss. 
JODA.— A  link  in  our  Lord's  genealogy  (Lk  3'-"). 

JOHN.  — The  father  of  Simon  Peter  (Jn  l^ 
2115.  iG.  17  jjy  .  ^Y  Jonas).    See  Peter. 

JOHN  THE  BAPTIST.— 

i.  John's  Importance,  and  Sources  for  his  History, 
ii.  Birth,  Youth,  and  Pre-Prophetic  Life. 

:  Jesus  ai 
v.  Imprisonment  and  Death. 
vi.  John  and  his  Disciples. 
vii.  Our  Lord's  Estimate  of  John. 

i.  John's  Importance,  and  Sources  foe  his 
History. — The  significance  of  John  the  Bai)tist 
for  the  history  of  Christianity  is  shown  by  the 
place  given  him  in  the  Gospel  records  by  every  one 
of  the  four  Evangelists.  St.  Mark  describes  John's 
mission  in  the  very  first  words  of  his  narrative  as 
'the  beginning  of  the  gospel  of  Jesus  Christ,  the 
Son  of  God'  (!').  St.  Luke  makes  the  story  of 
John's  birth  the  prelude  to  his  wonderful  naiTative 
of  the  greater  birth  at  Bethlehem  (l^*^*).  The  three 
Synoptists  are  agreed  in  representing  his  mission 
as  the  necessary  preparation,  in  accordance  with 
OT  prophecy,  for  the  manifestation  of  the  Christ 
(Mk  P-3,  Mt33,  IXiZ*"),  while  in  all  the  Gospels 
his  baptism  of  Jesus  becomes  the  moment  of  the 
Lord's  equipment  with  the  Spirit  for  His  Messianic 
office  (Mk  !»•,  Mt  3'«-,  Lk  3="- ;  cf.  Jn  l'"-«-).  In 
the  Prologue  to  his  Gospel  the  Fourth  Evangelist 
describes  John  as  '  a  man  sent  from  God,'  who 
'  came  for  a  witness,  to  bear  witness  of  the  light, 
that  all  men  through  him  (i.e.  Jesus)  might  be- 
lieve' (l^- ').  In  accordance  with  this  general  sense 
of  John's  great  importance  for  Christ  and  Chris- 
tianity is  the  space  devoted  to  him  in  the  Gospel 
narratives  as  a  whole.  It  is  true  that  Lk.  alone 
furnishes  any  information  about  him  previous  to 
the  moment  when  he  suddenly  issued  from  his 
retirement  in  the  wilderness  and  began  to  preach 
the  baptism  of  repentance  in  the  Jordan  Valley, 
and  true  also  that  in  the  case  of  the  Fourth  Gospel 
it  is  difficult  often  to  distingui.sh  between  the 
Evangelist's  statements  as  a  historian  and  his  own 
subjective  exposition.  But  when  we  put  together 
all  the  references  to  John's  ministry  and  history 
and  character  which  we  find  either  in  the  form  of 
historical  narrative,  or  testimony  from  the  lips  of 
Jesus,  or  reflexion  on  the  part  of  an  Evangelist, 
and  when  we  make  use  besides  of  one  or  two  side- 
lights which  fall  from  the  book  of  Acts  and  the 
pages  of  Josephus,  we  find  that  for  knowledge 
regarding  the  Baptist's  mission,  his  character,  his 
relation  to  Jesus  Christ,  and  his  i)lace  in  the 
history  of  both  tlie  old  and  the  new  dispensations, 
we  are  in  no  lack  of  plentiful  and  trustworthy 
sources  of  information. 

ii.  Birth,  Youth,  and  Pre-Prophetic  Life.— 

The  fact  that  Lk.  alone  of  the  Gospels  gives  an  account  of 
John's  earlier  life,  together  with  the  artistic  nature  of  the 
■   3  and  its  presumed  discrepancy  with  the  representation 


JOHN  THE  BAPTIST 


JOHN  THE  BAPTIST 


of  the  Fourth  Gospel  in  respect  of  a  connexion  between  John 
and  Jesus  previous  to  the  baptism  of  the  latter  (cf.  Lk  1»^56 
with  Jn  13'*'),  has  frequently  been  supposed  to  reduce  this 
exquisite  story  to  the  level  of  pure  lecrend.  In  view,  however, 
of  St.  Luke's  claims  to  historical  accuracy  (l'  ^),  and  of  the 
vindication  of  these  claims  at  so  many  points  by  modern  re- 
search (cf.  W.  M.  Ramsav,  SI.  Paul  the  Traveller,  ch.  i..  Was 
Christ  born  at  Bethlehem! ;  Chase,  The  Credibility  of  Acts),  it 
is  impossible  to  set  his  narrative  aside  as  if  it  rested  on  no  basis 
of  historical  fact.  It  is  full  of  poetry,  no  doubt,  but  it  is  the 
kind  of  poetry  which  bursts  hke  a  flower  from  the  living  stem 
of  actual  truth.  Any  attempt  to  dissolve  the  narrative  into 
Actions  of  a  later  growth  must  reckon  with  the  fact  that  the 
Evangelist  is  evidently  making  use  at  this  point  of  an  early 
Aramaic  source  steeped  in  the  colours  of  the  OT — '  the  earliest 
documentary  evidence  respecting  the  origins  of  Christianity 
which  has  come  down  to  us,  evidence  which  may  justly  be 
called  contemporary"  (Plummer,  "St.  Luke'  in  Jnternat.  Crit. 
Com.,  p.  7).  This  document,  which,  if  it  is  histnrioal,  must  have 
rested  in  large  part  upon  the  authority  of  tlie  Virgin  Mary, 
St.  Luke,  'as  a  faithful  collector  of  evangelic  mrmorabilia, 
.lUows  to  speak  for  itself,  with  here  and  there  an  editorial 
touch'  (Bruce,  Expositor's  Gr.  Test.,  ad  loc).  To  appreciate 
the  historical  sobriety  and  manifestly  primary  character  of  this 
early  Jewish-Christia'n  source,  we  have  only  to  compare  the  first 
chapter  of  Lk.  with  the  relative  sections  of  the  Proterangelium 
Jacobi,  and  especially  with  those  chapters  (22-24)  which  Har- 
n.ick  calls  the  Apocryphitm  Zacharice  (see  Hastings'  DB,  E.Ura 
Vol.  p.  431). 

According  to  Lk.,  John  was  the  son  of  Zacharias, 
a  iniest  of  the  course  of  Abijah  (see  art.  Z.\CH- 
AEIAS),  and  his  wife  Elisabeth  who  belonged  to 
the  family  of  Aaron  (l^^-).  Elisabeth  was  a  kins- 
woman (not  '  cousin,'  see  Plummer,  op.  cit.  p.  25) 
of  the  Virgin  Mary  (1*^),  who  paid  her  a  three 
months'  visit  immediately  before  the  birth  of  John 
(v.*,  cf.  w.'*-  ^-  *•).  John  was  the  senior  of  Jesus 
by  six  months  (1^-",  cf.  2«).  The  name  John, 
properly  Johanan  (Iudi'V7)s  =  [:riv,  cf.  Heb.  text  and 
LXX  of  1  Ch  3=*,  2  Ch  28'=),  was  given  to  the  child 
by  his  parents  in  obedience  to  a  Divine  direction 
(1"),  and  in  spite  of  the  opposition  of  neighbours 
and  kinsfolk  {vv.^'^). 

Regarding  the  place  of  John's  birth  there  has  been  much 
discussion.  Lk.  describes  the  house  of  Zacharias  as  in  *  a  city  of 
Judah '  which  lay  in  '  the  bill  country '  (vv.39-  ■10).  A  number  of 
commentators  have  assumed,  without  any  warrant,  that  this 
must  have  been  Hebron,  as  being  a  priestly  town  in  that  region. 
Others  have  suggested  that  Tc>if  'lovJac  is  a  corruption  for  toAj? 
'U>ra  (Reland,  Pal.  p.  870;  Robinson,  JIRP^  ii.  2i)6),  so  that 
the  Baptist  s  birthplace  would  be  Jutah  or  Juttah,  to  the  south 
of  Hebron  (Robinson,  op.  cit.,  ib.,  and  i.  495),  which  is  men- 
tioned in  Joshua  as  having  been  allotted  to  the  priests  (2116). 
A  tradition  as  early  as  the  Crusades  assigns  the  honour  to  'Ain 
Karim,  a  village  which  lay  between  Jerusalem  and  Bethlehem. 
All  this,  however,  is  purely  conjectural,  and  it  is  best  to  be 
c^ontent  to  say  that  John  was  born  in  a  town  unknown,  in  the 
hill  country  of  Judah.    See,  further,  art.  Jcd.\h. 

Of  the  external  incidents  of  John's  childhood 
and  youth  Lk.  gives  no  information.  All  that  is 
toW  us  bears  upon  his  spiritual  growth.  Accord 
ing  to  an  announcement  of  the  angel  Gabriel,  h( 
was  to  be  'filled  with  the  Holy  Ghost  from  hii 
mother's  womb'  (1'^).  That  a  peculiar  Divine 
blessing  did  rest  upon  him  from  the  first  is  implied 
in  the  words,  '  the  hand  of  the  Lord  was  upon  him ' 
(v.™i ;  that  this  Divine  presence  made  itself  mani- 
fest in  the  development  of  his  character  is  evident 
when  the  Evangelist  adds,  '  and  the  child  grew, 
and  waxed  strong  in  spirit '  (v.*). 

But  whatever  the  outward  tenor  of  John's  way 
in  that  priestly  house  in  the  hill  country  of  Judah, 
a  great  crisis  must  have  come  at  last,  followed  by 
a  sudden  break  in  his  manner  of  life.  A  priest's 
son,  he  Avould  naturally,  according  to  all  Jewish 
traditions,  have  stepped  into  the  priestly  office, 
and  enjoyed  the  honours,  abundance,  and  com 
parative  ease  that  were  parts  of  his  birthright.  But 
spiritual  instincts  and  powers  which  had  long  been 
unknown  in  Israel  began  to  make  themselves  felt 
in  the  young  man's  heart,  and  this  son  of  a  priest 
went  forth  into  the  deserts  to  be  shaped  in  solitude 
into  a  •  prophet  mightier  than  Elijah  or  Isaiah 
Of  the  precise  nature  of  the  impulse  which  first  led 
him  t(i  ^vithdraw  himself  from  his  fellows,  tl 
duiation  of  his  stay  in  the  wilderness,  and  the 


fashion  of  his  life  while  there,  no  Evangelist  has 
anything  to  tell  us.  But  it  is  certainly  a  grotesque 
mistake  to  suppose  that  he  left  liis  home  and  the 
haunts  of  men  in  order  to  become  an  Esseue  (see 
the  excellent  remarks  of  Godet  on  this  point,  Com. 
onLk.  i.  p.  117  f.).* 

There  was  absolutely  no  resemblance  between 
John,  the  desert  solitary,  as  he  is  described  to  us 
in  the  pages  of  the  Gospels  ( Mt  3*  H 11'"-  II 11'^  1!),  and 
the  Essenes  with  their  white  garments  and  their 
cenobitic  establishments,  as  we  come  across  them  in 
the  pages  of  Josephus  (BJ II.  viii.  2-13,  Ant.  XVIII. 
i.  5).  All  that  can  be  said  is  that  John  was  an 
ascetic  as  the  Essenes  were,  and  that  in  both  cases 
the  revolt  against  prevailing  luxury  and  corrup- 
tion sprang  out  of  the  deep  seriousness  which 
marked  the  more  earnest  spirits  of  the  time  (see 
Riiegg,  art.  'Johannes  der  Tiiufer'  in  PRE^). 
John's  withdrawal  into  the  wilderness  indicated 
his  disapproval  of  society  as  he  found  it,  it  signi- 
fied more  especially  an  absolute  break  with  the 
prevalent  Pharisaic  tj'pe  of  piety.  But  in  his  case 
it  meant  much  more  than  this,  much  more  even 
than  the  adoption  of  severely  ascetic  habits  in  the 
interests  of  his  own  spiritual  life.  It  was  as  one 
who  was  conscious  that  he  was  set  apart  for  the 
office  of  a  prophet  (cf.  Lk  l"-!?.  76it.)^  and  who  felt 
himself  called  in  particular  to  take  up  in  Israel 
a  work  of  reformation  similar  to  that  of  Elijah 
(Lk  1";  cf.  Mt  11"  17'=,  Jn  1='),  that  John  betook 
himself  to  the  deserts  (Lk  1™)  and  there  lived  the 
life  of  one  who  hides  himself  from  men  that  he 
may  the  better  see  the  face  of  God.  Locusts  and 
wild  honey  were  his  food,  while  his  clothing  was  a 
loose  cloak  ^ev5v^La)  of  woven  camel's  hair  and  a 
leathern  girdle  about  his  loins  (Mt  3^  Mk  1" ; 
cf.  2  K  18).t 

How  long  John  remained  in  'the  deserts,'  by 
which  is  doubtless  meant  the  awful  solitudes  of 
the  Wilderness  of  Judsea,  and  how  he  grew  into 
the  full  sense  of  the  precise  nature  of  his  prophetic 
vocation  as  the  forerunner  and  heralef  of  the 
Messiah,  we  cannot  tell.  But  the  Holy  Ghost  who 
had  been  working  in  him,  and  the  hand  of  the  Lord 
which  had  been  laid  upon  him  from  the  first,  his 
OA\'n  constant  brooding  over  words  of  ancient  pro- 
phecy (Jn  1==,  cf.  Mt  3^11),  and  a  deep  intuitive 
reading  of  the  signs  of  tlie  times,  would  gradually 
bring  him  to  a  clear  knowledge  both  of  his  function 
as  a  prophet  and  of  the  time  when  he  must  begin 
to  exercise  it.  And  so  came  at  last  the  day  of  his 
'shewing'  (dvaSeitis)  unto  Israel  (Lk  1*). 

iii.  The  Public  Ministry.— It  was  in  the  15th 
year  of  the  reign  of  Tiberius  Cresar  that  the  word 
of  God  came  to  John  in  the  wilderness  summoning 
him  to  enter  upon  his  work  as  a  prophet  (Lk  3'-  -). 
Immediately  he  obeyed  the  summons  (v.').  The 
scene  of  his  ministry,  according  to  Mk.,  was  'the 
wilderness'  (1^),  according  to  Mt.  'the  wilderness 
of  Judfea'  (3'),  according  to  Lk.  'all  the  country 
about  Jordan'  (3^).  Probably,  as  hitherto,  the 
"Wilderness  of  Judaea  continued  to  be  his  home- 
that  wild  region  which  stretches  westwards  from 
the  Dead  Sea  and  the  Jordan  to  the  edge  of  the 
central  plateau  of  Palestine ;  but  when  he  preached 
he  must  have  done  .so  in  some  place  not  too  far 
removed  from  the  haimts  of  men,  while,  owing  to 

♦  This  theorj',  put  forth  by  Griitz  (GescA.  dcr  Juden,  iii.  p. 
100)  and  adopted  by  many  since,  has  been  repeated  once  more 
in  the  art.  '  Essenes '  in  Jewish  Encyc,  where  it  is  added  that 
the  silence  of  the  NT  about  the  E^enes  'is  perhaps  the  best 
proof  that  tbpy  *.-.-'. '^v.  th..  ,..^w  sect  {i.e.  ChristianityJ  with  its 


♦  That  he  ale  i..  „oi,-,  ...>  i,.t  IkJawin  still  do,  not  carob-beans, 
is  now  the  prevalent  opinion  of  scholars  (cf.  art.  Locust,  and  in 
Hastings'  DB,  s.r.).  Cheyne,  however,  holds  out  for  carob-beans 
(.Encyc.  Bibl.,  artt. '  Husks '  and  '  John  the  Baptist  ).  See  also 
Expos.  Timet,  xv.  [1904]  pp.  286, 335, 428,  xvi.  [1905]  p.  882. 


JOHN  THE  BAPTIST 


JOHN  THE  BAPTIST 


863 


his  practice  of  liaptism  (almost  certainly  by  im- 
mersion), the  Jordan  necessarily  marked  the  central 
line  of  his  activity  (Mt  S"-  "■  «  Mk  1=- »).  To  Jn. 
we  owe  the  information  that  he  baptized  on  both 
sides  of  the  river  (P*  3=^  10*").  John's  work  may 
be  considered  under  two  aspects,  (1)  his  preaching, 
(2)  his  baptism. 

1.  John's  Preaching. — According  to  Mt.  the 
essence  of  John's  preaching,  the  text  as  we  might 
say  of  all  his  sermons,  was  this :  '  Repent  ye,  for 
the  kingdom  of  heaven  is  at  hand'  (3-).  The 
second  part  of  this  text  was  the  fundamental  part. 
It  shows  that  John  was  fully  conscious  that  the 
long-expeclr.I  ^I(•<^KlIli(■  ai'i'  ^v:l.s  hdw  about  to 
dawn,  .-11111  lli:it  it  \\;i^  liis  mi,, ion  |,,  |a-oclaimthe 
fact.  ]!v  lii-.  iriiiii].!'!  ■^■.ii.■,.J  prnilinn.-ition  of  this 
fact  be  tliiilli'il  the  nation  to  its  lirait  and  drew 
forth  the  multitude  into  tlie  wilderness  to  hear 
him  (Mt  3*,  Lk  3';  cf.  Jos.,  Atif.  xvill.  v.  2)— 
men  from  Jerusalem  and  men  from  Galilee  (Jn 
jiii.  35ff.)^  civilians  and  soldiers  (Lk  3'"-'''),  Pharisees 
and  publicans  side  by  side  (Mt  3',  Lk  3'=). 

But  while  the  preacher's  fundamental  message 
was  the  announcement  of  the  near  approach  of  the 
Messianic  Kingdom,  he  combined  with  these  glad 
tidings  of  good  a  stern  summons  to  repentance. 
Repentance,  he  said,  /itrdvoia,  a  change  of  mind 
and  heart,  were  indispensable  as  a  preparatory  con- 
dition for  all  who  would  share  in  the  privileges  of 
the  new  order  about  to  be  set  up.  To  the  Jewish 
mind  this  was  an  unexpected  and  unwelcome  note 
in  a  herald  of  the  Messiah  ;  and  John's  utterance 
of  it  and  strenuous  emphasis  upon  it  form  one  of 
the  marks  of  his  profound  originality  as  a  prophet. 
According  to  the  popular  conviction,  all  Israel 
would  have  a  lot  and  a  part  in  the  blessings  of  the 
Messianiq  age,  and  that  specifically  because  of 
their  descent  from  Abraham.  It  was  recognized 
that  judgments  would  accompany  the  appearance 
of  the  Christ,  but  these  judgments  were  to  fall 
upon  the  Gentiles,  while  Abraham's  children  would 
be  secure  and  happy  in  that  day  of  the  Lord.  The 
Talmud  explains  the  cry  of  the  prophetic  watch- 
man, '  The  morning  cometh,  and  also  the  night '  (Is 
21"),  by  saying,  'The  night  is  only  to  the  nations 
of  the  world,  but  the  morning  to  Israel'  (Jerus. 
Taan.  64(i,  quoted  by  Edersheim,  Life  and  Times, 
i.  271).  Not  so,  said  John.  Repentance  is  the 
prime  requisite  for  all  who  would  enter  the  King- 
dom of  heaven.  Descent  from  Abraham  counts 
for  nothing  (Mt  S").  Every  fruitless  or  worthless 
tree  must  be  hewn  down  and  cast  into  the  fire  (v'"). 
The  very  leaders  of  the  nation  themselves,  the 
Pharisees  and  Sadducees,  must  bring  forth  fruit 
worthy  of  repentance  if  they  are  to  escape  from  the 
wrath  to  come  (vv.'-  *). 

2.  John's  Baptism.— Alongside  of  the  spoken 
word  John  set  that  great  distinctive  symbol  of  his 
ministry  from  which  his  title  '  the  Baptist'  (6  Bair- 
TiiTT^s)  was  derived.  He  came  not  only  preaching 
but  baptizing,  or  rather,  so  closely  was  the  symbol 
interwoven  with  the  word,  he  came  '  preaching  the 
baptism  of  repentance'  (Mk  l"",  Lk  3^).  To  under- 
stand John's  baptismal  doctrine  it  is  necessary  to 
think  of  the  historical  roots  out  of  which  it  sprang. 
For  though  he  gave  to  the  rite  a  depth  of  meaning 
it  had  never  h.ad  in  Israel  before,  he  evidently 
appealed  to  ideas  on  the  subject  which  were 
already  familiar  to  the  Jewish  people.  In  partic- 
ular, three  moments  in  the  preceding  history  of 
the  religion  of  Israel  appear  to  be  gathered  up  in 
the  b.aptism  of  John  as  it  meets  us  in  the  Gospels. 

(a)  The  theocratic  washings  of  the  Jcws{hv  11-15, 
Nu  19).  That  a  religious  intention  underlay  those 
'  divers  washings'  of  the  ceremonial  law  is  evident 
(cf.  Lv  143=  15'^  Mk  1«  Lk  2==  5",  Jn  2«),  while 
the  historical  connexion  of  John's  baptism  with 
them  is  proved  by   the   fact  that  in   NT   times 


/3a7n-ifeiK  had  come  to  be  the  regular  term  alike  for 
those  ceremonial  washings  and  for  the  Messianic 
baptism  of  the  Forerunner  (for  detailed  proof  and 
reft',  on  these  points  see  the  present  writer's  Sacra- 
ments in  the  NT,  p.  56  f. ).  And  yet,  though  John's 
baptism  finds  its  earliest  historical  roots  in  the 
Levitical  washings,  it  is  far  from  finding  its  com- 
plete explanation  there.  It  was  essentially  an 
ethical  rite,  and  thus  very  different  from  an  out- 
ward ceremony  to  which  some  value  could  be 
attached  apart  from  the  moral  and  spiritual  condi- 
tion of  the  recipient.  In  the  case  of  all  who  came 
to  him  John  insisted  upon  repentance ;  and  they 
'  were  baptized  of  him  in  Jordan,  confessing  their 
sins' (Mt  3""). 

(b)  The  Messianic  lustration  foretold  hy  the 
prophets. — Long  before  the  time  of  John,  prophetic 
souls  in  Israel  had  seen  that  for  a  true  cleansing 

.  the  nation  must  look  to  those  Messianic  days  when 
God  should  open  a  fountain  for  sin  and  for  un- 
cleanness,  .sprinkling  His  jjeople  with  clean  water, 
and  putting  a  new  heart  and  a  new  spirit  within 
them  ( Jer  338,  ^zk  36=^-  =«,  Zee  13').  It  was  John's 
function  to  declare  that  those  great  Messianic 
promises  were  now  going  to  receive  their  ful- 
filment at  the  hands  of  the  Messiah  Himself. 
His  baptism,  we  have  said,  was  a  baptism  of  pre- 
paration for  the  Kingdom,  preparation  which  took 
the  form  of  repentance  and  confession.  But  even 
more  than  a  baptism  of  preparation  it  was  a 
baptism  of  promise,  promise  both  of  the  Kingdom 
and  the  King,  being  a  promissory  symbol  of  a 
perfect  spiritual  cleansing  which  the  Messiah  in 
person  should  bestow — '  I  indeed  baptize  you  with 
water  unto  repentance ;  but  he  that  cometh  after 
me  .  .  .  shall  baptize  you  with  the  Holy  Ghost 
and  with  fire' (Mt  3" II). 

(c)  Another  historical  moment  which  should  not 
be  lost  sight  of  is  the  proselyte  baptism  of  the 
Jewish  Church.  It  may  now  be  regarded  as  certain 
that  the  baptism  of  proselytes  had  been  the  rule  in 
Israel  long  before  NT  times  (see  especially  Schiirer, 
UJP  II.  li.  319 ;  Edersheim,  Life  and  Times,  ii. 
745  ff.);  and  pro.selyte  baptism  helps  us  to  under- 
stand the  baptism  of  John  in  certain  of  its  aspects. 
When  a  Gentile  '  sought  shelter  under  the  wings 
of  the  Shekinah,'  it  was  understood  that  he  was 
utterly  renouncing  his  jjast.  And  John  insisted  on 
a  like  renunciation  in  the  case  of  (•.incliilatcs  for 
his  baptism.  The  danger  of  the  iirorl.iiiiat  ion  tli.at 
the  Kingdom  of  heaven  was  at  liainl  lay  in  t  lio  fact 
that  multitudes  would  claim  to  eiiltr  tlial  Kingdom 
as  a  matter  of  course,  without  being  prepared  to 
submit  to  the  necessary  conditions.  Not  so,  said 
John.  God  does  not  depend  upon  Israel  alone  for 
the  peopling  of  His  Kingdom.  He  'is  able  of  these 
stones  to  raise  up  children  unto  Abraham'  (Mt  3"). 
Even  a  Jew,  if  he  is  to  be  received,  must  come  as 
a  humble  penitent  who  casts  himself  upon  the 
Divine  grace.  He  must  come  like  a  stranger  and 
a  proselyte  renouncing  the  past,  not  as  one  who 
claims  an  inalienable  right,  but  as  one  who  seeks 
by  fruits  of  repentance  to  flee  from  the  wrath  to 
come  (Mt  3'-  *,  Lk  3'-  %  For  the  baptism  of  the 
Coming  One  is  a  baptism  of  judgment.  His  win- 
nowing-fan  is  in  His  hand;  and  while  He  will 
gather  His  wheat  into  the  garner,  He  will  burn  up 
the  chaff  with  unquenchable  fire  (Mt  3'-,  Lk  3''). 
On  the  baptism  of  John  see,  further,  art.  Baptlsm. 

iv.  John's  Baptism  of  Jesus  and  Witness 
EEGAEDING  HiM. — 1.  The  baptism  of  Jesus  by 
John  is  recorded  in  all  the  Synoptics  (Mt  3"if-,  Mk 
1"'-,  Lk  3^'),  but  is  not  mentioned  in  the  Fourth 
Gospel.  The  author,  however,  makes  the  Baptist 
refer  to  the  descent  of  the  Spirit  upon  Jesus  in  the 
form  of  a  dove  (Jn  l'^'^-)  as  an  authenticating  sign 
whicir  he  received  that  He  was  the  Messiah  ;  and 
this  incident  is  represented  by  the  other  three  as 


864 


JOHN  THE  BAPTIST 


JOHN  THE  BAPTIST 


following  immediately  upon  the  baptism,  though 
the  first  two,  and  probably  the  third  also,  describe 
tlie  visible  sign  as  bestowed  upon  Jesus  Himself 
along  with  the  approving  voice  from  heaven  (Mt 
3"*,  Mk  I""-,  Lk  3~).  If  the  scene  of  the  baptism 
was  the  same  as  that  of  John's  subsequent  witness 
to  Jesus  recorded  in  the  Fourth  Gospel,  it  took 
place  at  'Bethany  beyond  Jordan'  (Jn  1=*),  a  site 
which  has  been  much  discussed,  but  cannot  be 
said  to  have  been  certainly  identified  (see  art. 
Bethabaka). 

It  was  here,  then,  in  all  likelihood,  that  Jesus 
met  John  when  He  came  from  Galilee  to  be  bap- 
tized of  him  (Mt  3'^).  At  first  John  was  unwilling 
to  perform  the  rite  upon  such  an  applicant,  but 
Jesus  insisted.  'Thus  it  becometh  us  to  fulfil  all 
righteousness'  (v.'^).  He  recognized  John's  baptism 
as  an  appointment  of  the  Divine  righteousness 
which  it  was  proper  that  He  should  accept.  If  the 
fitness  of  that  baptism  in  the  case  of  Jesus  is  called 
in  question,  we  must  remember  that  it  had  an 
initiatory  aspect  which  would  commend  it  to  Him 
as  He  saw  in  it  an  opportunity  of  consecrating 
Himself  definitely  and  openly  to  the  Messianic 
kingdom  and  its  tasks.  But  if  John's  words  of 
protest  (v.")  imply  that  even  in  the  baptism  of 
Christ  the  cleansing  aspect  of  the  rite  was  in  view, 
was  it  not  proper  that  the  'Lamb  of  God'  (Ju 
jcs.  36)_  ^^,i,o  ])a^j  no  sense  of  personal  guilt,  nothing 
to  repent  of  or  confess,  should  even  now  begin  to 
bear  upon  His  heart  the  burden  of  the  sins  of 
others,  even  as  on  a  coming  day  He  was  to  bear 
them  '  in  his  own  body  on  the  tree '  (1  P  -2-^)  ? 

2.  Of  the  intercourse  of  John  with  Jesus,  the 
Fourth  Gospel  gives  an  account  which  difl'ers 
widely  from  that  presented  in  the  Synoptics  ;  but 
apart  from  the  f  Johannine  colouring  of  the  later 
narrative,  the  difference  is  sufficiently  explained 
on  the  ordinary  view  that  the  Synoptists  describe 
the  meeting  between  the  two  at  the  time  of  our 
Lord's  baptism,  while  the  Fourth  Evangelist  con- 
cerns himself  only  with  John's  subsequent  testi- 
mony to  the  now  recognized  Messiah  (cf.  Jn  !''•). 
There  is  no  real  discrepancy  between  John's  '  I 
knew  him  not,'  reported  in  the  Fourth  Gospel  (P'), 
and  the  representation  of  Mt.  (3'^"),  that  when  the 
Man  from  Nazareth  presented  Himself  at  the 
Jordan,  John  declined  at  first  to  baptize  Him,  on 
the  ground  of  his  own  unworthiness  in  comjiarison. 
Even  if  we  suppose  that  in  spite  of  their  kinship 
and  the  friendsnip  between  their  mothers  the  two 
had  not  met  before,  the  fact  that  John's  baptism 
was  a  baptism  of  repentance  and  confession  seems 
to  imply  a  personal  interview  with  applicants 
previous  to  the  performance  of  the  rite — an  inter- 
view which  in  the  case  of  Jesus  must  have  revealed 
to  one  with  the  Baptist's  insight  the  beauty  and 
glory  of  His  character.  On  the  other  hand,  the 
'I  knew  him  not'  of  the  last  Gospel,  as  the  con- 
text shows,  only  means  that  John  did  not  know- 
that  Jesus  was  indeed  the  Messiah  until  he  received 
the  promised  sign  (P-'-). 

It  is  true  that  in  the  Fourth  Gospel  John  is  made 
to  bear  a  witness  to  Jesus  by  the  banks  of  the 
Jordan  {V^-^}  which  finds  no  parallel  in  the  earlier 
narratives ;  but  if  we  follow  the  ordinary  view  of 
.students  of  the  chronology  of  our  Lord's  life— that 
the  narrative  of  the  Fourth  Evangelist  comes  in 
after  the  forty  days  of  the  Temptation  have  inter- 
vened, and  that  John  now  sees  Jesus,  in  the  light 
not  only  of  the  authenticating  sign  given  at  the 
baptism,  but  of  his  own  reflexion  ever  since  ujion 
tlie  suliject  of  the  (character  of  Jesus  and  the  ful- 
filment of  till-  Messianic  promise  — the  fulness 
and  explicit)!--  'f  li-  I  -timony  upon  this  later 
occasion   a]]  [    i        !\    natural.       The  twice- 

repeated  ei—  :fi'  (vv.'^-*"),  it  is  true, 

oairnot  be  mill' 1 -I  iul,  -i  lar  as  the  Baptist  himself 


is  concerned,  as  referring  to  pre-existence,  though 
this  was  probably  involved  in  the  thought  of  the 
Evangelist.  But  the  designation  of  Jesus  as  '  the 
Lamb  of  God '  (vv.^-  ^),  and  especially  the  phrase 
'which  taketh  away  the  sin  of  the  world'  (v.=®), 
repeals  a  conception  of  the  Saviour's  Messianic 
functions  which  is  certainly  profound,  but  which, 
in  spite  of  the  objections  which  have  been  taken 
to  it,  cannot  surprise  us  in  the  case  of  one  who 
had  brooded  like  John  over  the  utterances  of  OT 
prophecy  (cf.  especially  Is  53). 

The  Fourth  Evangelist  records  a  further  witness 
regarding  Jesus  which  John  bore  to  his  own  dis- 
ciples on  a  later  occasion,  when  he  was  baptizing 
in  -Hnon  (wh.  see),  near  to  Salim  (3-^*-)-  Ii  this 
passage  tlie  difficulty  of  discriminating  between 
tlie  ori;,'iiial  words  and  facts  of  history  and  the 
Johannine  setting  and  atmosphere  is  even  greater 
than  usual,  but  the  figure  of  the  Bridegroom  '  that 
hath  the  bride '  and  the  Bridegroom's  friend  who 
rejoices  in  the  other's  joy  (v.*),  and  the  saying, 
'  He  must  increase,  but  I  must  decrease '  (v.™),  are 
so  thoroughly  in  keeping  with  other  utterances  of 
the  Baptist  recorded  in  the  Synoptics  as  well  as  in 
the  Fourth  Gospel  regarding  the  relations  between 
the  Messiah  and  himself  (Mt3'-",  Jn  V'-'"),  that 
it  is  difficult  to  resist  the  impression  of  historical 
reality  which  they  make  upon  the  reader. 

V.  John's  Imprisonment  and  Death  (Mt  H^-", 
Mk  6"-=»,  Lk  a^^'-o;  cf.  Jos.  Ant.  XVIII.  v.  1,  2). 
—According  to  the  Synoptists,  the  arrest  and 
execution  of  John  were  due  to  the  spiteful  hatred 
of  Herodias  (wh.  see),  because  he  had  rebuked 
Herod  for  making  her  his  wife  in  flagrant  defiance 
of  the  law  of  Israel  (Lv  18'^  20-').  Josephus,  on  the 
other  hand,  says  that  Herod  put  the  prophet  to 
death  because  he  '  feared  lest  the  great  influence 
John  had  over  the  people  might  put  it  in  his  power 
and  inclination  to  raise  a  rebellion  ;  for  they  seemed 
ready  to  do  anything  he  should  advise.'  The  two 
statements,  however,  are  not  irreconcilable ;  and 
certainly  the  evidence  of  Josephus,  whose  interests 
as  a  historian  lay  altogether  in  the  political  direc- 
tion, is  not  such  as  to  cast  any  suspicion  on  the 
trustworthiness  of  the  more  detailed  and  more 
intimate  Gospel  narrative.  It  may  veiy  well  have 
been  the  case  that,  while  John's  death  was  really 
due  to  the  implacable  hate  of  Herodias,  Herod  felt 
that  this  was  hardly  an  adequate  ground,  or  one 
that  he  would  care  to  allege,  for  the  execution  of 
the  Baptist,  and  so  made  political  reasons  his 
excu',e.  Assuredly  there  was  nothing  of  the  politi- 
cal revolutionary  about  John ;  yet  his  extraordinary 
influence  over  the  people  and  the  wild  hopes  raised 
among  certain  classes Tjy  his  preaching  might  make 
it  easy  for  Herod  to  present  a  plausible  justifica- 
tion of  his  base  deed  by  representing  John  as  a 
politically  dangerous  person. 

There  may  seem  to  be  a  contradiction  within  the 
Evangelic  narratives  tln-iii~ilvi's,  when  we  find 
Mt.  saying  that  Hik,.!  \\..uM  have  put  .John  to 
death  but  that  he  l.ar.a  ih..  inultitude  (14*),  while 
Mk.  alleges  that  IK-rud  ■tcarcd  John,  knowin;- 
that  he  was  a  righteous  man  and  an  holy,  and 
kept  him  safe  .  .  .  and  heard  him  gladly '  (6™). 
But  the  contradiction  lies  in  Herod's  character 
rather  than  in  the  testimonies  of  the  two  writers, 
and  the  words  iroXKa  i/wdpu,  'he  was  much  per- 
plexed' (Mk  6="  WH  and  RV),  explain  adequately 
enough  a  moral  situation  of  which  we  have  the 
final  revelation  in  Herod's  weakly  vacillating  be- 
haviour, 'letting  I  dare  not  Avait  upon  I  would,' 
when  Herodias  through  her  daughter  Salome  (Mt 
14«,  Mk  6~;  cf.  Jos.  Ant.  xvill.  v.  4)  presented 
her  horrible  request.  That  Herod  did  not  really 
regard  John  as  a  political  fanatic  is  suggested  by 
all  that  the  Gospels  tell  us  as  to  the  way  in  which 
he  treated  him  while  he  lay  in  prison;  by  the 


JOHN  THE  BAPTIST 


JOHN  THE  BAPTIST 


865 


personal  audiences  he  granted  him  (Mk  6°"),  and 
by  the  fact  that  he  allowed  him  to  have  intercourse 
with  his  disciples  (Mt  11-,  Lk  7'^' '"),  and  through 
them  to  exchange  messages  with  Jesus  (Mt  11-", 
Lk  71'-==). 

The  message  which  John  sent  to  Jesus  has  often 
been  regaided  as  exceedingly  strange  on  the  part 
of  one  who  had  previously  borne  so  signal  a  witness 
that  Jesus  was  the  Christ,  and  it  has  even  been 
suggested  that  he  sent  his  messengers  not  because 
there  was  any  wavering  of  his  own  faith,  but  for 
the  sake  of  his  disciples,  to  whom  he  wished  some 
confirmation  of  the  Messiahship  of  Jesus  to  be 
given  (see  Bebb  in  Hastings'  DB  li.  680).  But  the 
more  simple  explanation  is  also  the  one  which  is 
truer  to  human  nature.  The  depression  wrought 
by  imprisonment  on  one  accustomed  to  the  freedom 
of  the  wilderness,  together  with  his  disaj)pointment 
at  the  seeming  delay  of  Jesus  to  assert  His  power 
and  authority  as  the  Christ  of  Israel,  had  resulted 
in  an  hour  of  the  power  of  darkness  in  the  soul 
of  the  great  prophet,  when  he  began  to  wonder 
whether  after  all  he  had  not  made  a  great  mistake. 
That  in  spite  of  his  doubts  he  had  not  lost  his  faith 
in  Jesus  is  shown  by  the  very  fact  that  it  was  to 
Jesus  Himself  that  he  applied  to  have  these  doubts 
removed,  as  well  as  by  that  message  of  encour- 
agement and  '  strong  consolation '  which  the 
Bridegroom  sent  back  to  His  sorely  tried  friend : 
'  Blessed  is  he  whosoever  shall  not  be  offended  in 
me'(Mtll«,  Lk7=^). 

From  Josephus  we  learn  that  the  Castle  of 
Machserus  (wh.  see)  was  the  scene  of  the  Baptist's 
imprisonment  (Ant.  XVIII.  v.  1,  2).  Machserus  was 
a  powerful  stronghold,  at  once  a  fortress  and  a 
palace  (BJ  VII.  vi.  1-3 ;  cf.  Pliny,  Hist.  Nat.  v. 
xvi.  72),  situated  on  the  eastern  shores  of  the 
Dead  Sea  (G.  A.  Smith,  HGHL  p.  569  f.).  Within 
these  gloomy  walls,  then,  the  death  of  John  took 
place,  one  of  'those  awful  tragedies  for  which 
nature  has  provided  here  so  sympathetic  a  theatre ' 
(op.  cit.  in  loc).  Of  this  tragedy  St.  Mark  has 
furnished  us  with  the  fullest  account  (6-'"™)  in  a 
narrative  which  is  not  more  thrilling  in  its  dramatic 
vividness  than  it  is  instinct  with  the  elements  of 
what  might  almost  be  described  as  self -evidencing 
moral  and  historical  truth. 

vi.  John  and  his  Disciples.  —  Besides  the 
crowds  that  came  to  him  to  be  baptized,  John 
appears  to  have  drawn  around  him  a  circle  of  closer 
followers,  who  are  referred  to  in  all  the  Gospels  as 
his  'disciples'  (Mt  O'-"  [|[  Mk  2'8,  Lk  5^3]  ll'^  [if  Lk 
7'«-n  Mk6=9,  Lk  11',  Jn  \^-"  3«  4>;  cf.  Ac  18== 
19'"'').  It  appears  that,  unlike  Jesus,  he  enjoined 
regular  fasts  upon  his  disciples  (Mt  9"  ||),  and  that 
he  also  gave  them  forms  of  prayer  (Lk  11')  which 
they  were  in  the  habit  of  employing  frequently 
(Lk  5^^).  Possibly  he  utilized  them  as  assistants 
in  the  work  of  baptizing,  for  which  he  could 
hardly  have  sufficed  personally  when  his  movement 
was  at  its  height. 

It  was  from  the  circle  of  these  disciples  of  the 
Baptist  that  the  disciples  of  Jesus  were  immediately 
drawn  (Jn  1^'°'),  and  that  not  only  with  John  s 
full  consent,  but  through  his  own  express  witness 
both  in  public  (Jn  1'*^-  '^^■)  and  in  private  (v.^^f.)  to 
the  superior  worth  of  Jesus  and  to  his  own  function 
as  the  mere  herald  and  forerunner  of  the  latter. 
And  yet  he  did  not,  as  we  might  liave  expected, 
decline,  after  Clirist's  baptism,  to  stand  any  longer 
to  others  in  the  relation  of  a  master  to  his  disciples. 
Perfectly  loyal  as  he  was  to  Him  whom  he  recog- 
nized as  the  Messiah,  he  evidently  felt,  as  Jesus 
also  did  previous  to  Jolin's  imprisonment  (Jn  3-*^-  ^ 
4'-),  that  there  was  still  need  for  a  work  of  pre- 
paration, and  room  therefore  for  a  discipleship  to 
the  Forerunner.  But  wlien  his  disciples  grew 
jealous  of  the  rapidly  growing  popularity  of  Jesus, 
vol..  1.-55 


and  came  to  him  with  their  complaint,  lie  pro- 
claimed to  them  once  more  the  true  relation 
between  that  Other  and  himself, — '  He  must  in- 
crease, but  I  must  decrease,' — and  reminded  them 
how  he  had  said  from  the  first  that  lie  was  not  the 
Christ,  but  was  sent  before  Him  (Jn  3=» ;  cf.  Mt 
3"l).     , 

The  fidelity  of  John's  disciples  to  their  master  is 
shown  by  tlieir  holding  together  and  continuing  to 
observe  Ids  prescriptions  after  he  was  east  into 
prison  (cf.  Mt  4'-  i|  with  9'^  ||),  by  their  attendance 
upon  him  during  his  captivity  (Mt  IP"'-,  Lk  7'*-  ""''•), 
and  by  their  loving  and  reverent  treatment  of  his 
corpse  (Mk  6^).  The  vital  impression  he  made 
upon  them,  and  the  self-propagating  power  of  the 
baptism  of  repentance  in  the  absence  of  a  liigher 
teaching,  is  proved  by  the  fact  that  more  than  20 
years  afterwards,  and  in  the  f ar-ofl'  city  of  Ephesus, 
St.  Paul  found  certain  disciples,  including  no  less 
a  personage  than  Apollos,  the  Alexandrian  Jew, 
who  knew  no  other  baptism  than  that  of  John  (Ac 
19'"';,  cf.  182'"f').  Before  the  growing  light  of 
Christianity  John's  baptism  as  a  baptism  of  pre- 
paration for  the  Messiah  soon  vanished  away,  but 
the  traces  of  his  memory  and  influence  are  found 
lingering  long  afterwards  in  the  name,  doctrines, 
and  practices  of  tlie  Hemerobaptists,  who  claimed 
John  as  one  of  themselves  (Clem.  Horn.  ii.  23;  cf. 
Hegesippus  in  Euseb.  HE  iv.  22 ;  Justin  Martyr, 
Dial.  c.  Tryph.  On  the  relation  of  the  Hemero- 
baptists to  John,  see  Lightfoot,  Colossians,  p. 
402  ff.). 

vii.  Our  Lord's  estimate  of  John.— The  task 
of  appreciating  the  character  and  activity  of  John 
the  Baptist  is  rendered  easy  for  us  by  the  frequent 
utterances  of  Jesus  Himself.  If  the  worth  of 
praise  is  to  be  mea.sured  by  the  lips  from  which  it 
falls,  no  mortal  man  was  ever  praised  so  greatly 
as  he  whom  Jesus  described  as  '  a  burning  and 
a  shining  light '  ( Jn  5''),  as  one  who  was  '  much 
more  than  a  prophet '  (Mt  1 1^  RV,  Lk  7=*),  as  the 
Elijah  who  by  his  coming  was  to  'restore  all 
things'  (Mt  ll'*  IV^-,  Mk  O""-) ;  and  of  whom  He 
.said  :  '  Among  them  that  are  born  of  women  there 
hath  not  risen  a  greater  than  John  the  Baptist' 
(Mtll";  see  the  whole  passage,  and  cf.  Lk  7^'°'-). 
Tliat  John  had  his  limitations  Jesus  made  clear 
(Mk  2'8''-),  but  He  attributed  these  not  to  any 
personal  shortcomings,  but  to  the  fact  that  he 
belonged  to  the  time  of  preparation,  and  so  stood 
by  a  dispensation al  necessity  outside  of  the  realized 
Kingdom  of  God  (Mt  ll"^  Lk  7=*"'). 

Again  and  again  Jesus  revealed  His  sense  of  the 
Divine  value  that  attached  to  the  baptism  of  John. 
He  showed  it  when  He  insisted  on  submitting  to 
that  baptism  Himself,  and  by  the  words  He  used 
on  the  occasion  (Mt  3">).  He  showed  it  when  He 
asked  the  question,  '  The  baptism  of  John,  whence 
was  it  ?  from  heaven,  or  of  men  ? '  (Mt  2P^  II),  a 
question  to  which  His  own  answer  was  self-evident, 
and  which  St.  Luke  answers  for  us  when  he  savs 
that  '  all  the  people  when  they  heard,  and  the 
publicans,  iustified  God,  being  baptized  with  the 
baptism  of  John.  But  the  Pharisees  and  the 
lawyers  rejected  for  themselves  the  counsel  of  God, 
being  not  baptized  of  him '  Lk  7-'"-).  And  may  we 
not  say  that  in  His  words  to  a  certain  Pharisee  (Jn 
3')  about  the  necessity  of  a  birth  '  of  water  and  the 
Spirit'  (v.°),  He  was  indicating  once  more  the  deep 
religious  value  of  John's  water-baptism,  while  in- 
sisting at  the  same  time  on  the  indispensableness 
of  that  spiritual  birth  which  conies  only  from  above 
(v.")?  Time  after  time,  too,  even  to  the  closin" 
days  of  His  ministry,  words  which  Jesus  let  fall 
reveal  to  us  that  He  carried  about  with  Him  con- 
tinually the  thought  of  His  [predecessor's  career, 
and  perceived  tlie  bearing  of  its  lessons  upon  His 
own  ministry  and  earthly  lot  and  fate  (see  Mt  Q""- 


JOHN  THE  APOSTLE 


JOHN  THE  APOSTLE 


jjiiff.  is;.  i7'j(r.  21*-,  Lk  16'").  And,  finally,  after  His 
resurrection,  we  lind  tliat  as  He  had  justified  John 
at  the  first  by  taking  up  his  baptism  of  preparation, 
so  now  He  <  lowns  the  work  of  the  Foreranner  W 
instituting  tlie  biijiti^ni  of  the  Kingdom  itself  (Mt 
28'^).  John  hn.l  :i.ln|,ii-,l  tin'  rite  as  the  distinctive 
symbol  of  hi-  n  loi  imii-  .utivity  and  the  gateway 
into  the  si)hen'  m1  .Mr>>i,iiiiL-  preparation.  Jesus 
transformed  it  into  ;t,  ciurament  of  the  Christian 
Church— at  once  the  token  of  the  gospel  of  for- 
giveness and  the  sign  and  seal  of  discipleship  to 
Himself. 
Literature. — Relative  s< 


John  the    Baptist;   Hustiiiijs'   niS,   artt.   'John   the    Baptis 
'  Baptism,' and  vol  ii,  I'tof  :  PI!  F'-'.  :ir'.  ■  .l.ilrinnp«  fhr  Tiiiifer'; 

Haivpt,   Johannrs    ::  r    /.,((,,■      I ;.  tn.  iii  in  i..    /'        /-'"V    ''hristi 

durch  Johaniify.  -     :        /         //  '   ■  ■ ■■.  xiii. 

[1902]  483t.,  w,  "  '  !       :'     .        '     ,    1  in,  '.IStf., 

iM'ff.,vii.  [iibWiiL';!!.  .'v,,i,^.^,,'.,,,,'.i.i,.;,,,,,.,,,r,  ij..^uniciitL 

the  First  Chapter  of  St.  Luke's  (rospel;  tlie  earlier  sections  of 
Althaus,  Die  Heilsbedeutung  der  Tau/e. 

J.  C.  Lambert. 

JOHN  (THE  APOSTLE),-As  the  Gospels  are 
but  memorabilia  of  Jesus,  giving  relatively  but 
meagre  accounts  of  His  life  and  works,  it  is  to  be 
expected  that  they  can  afford  us  only  glimpses  of 
the  Apostles.  Such  is  the  case ;  and,  while  a  few 
more  references  are  made  to  Peter,  James,  and 
John  than  to  the  others,  we  have  no  such  material 
as  allows  any  more  than  a  fragmentary  account  of 
any  one.  Tradition  has,  in  the  case  of  each  Apostle, 
added  to  the  Scripture  narrative  a  story  of  sub- 
sequent activity  and  fate.  For  convenience  of 
reference,  therefore,  to  all  that  is  known  of  John 
we  may  group  the  materials  under  the  following 
heads  :  (1)  those  found  in  the  Scriptures  ;  (2)  those 
given  us  by  tradition.  To  the  account  thus  obtained 
we  shall  add  a  brief  delineation  of  his  character. 

i.  The  Testimony  ok  ScKirrriM:.— Preliminarj 
to  giving  the  facts  in  tlnii  rlnniHilnuical  order,  it 
is  well  to  call  attentiuii  l..  tin'  .ilniost  universal 
identification  of  theunnumiMl  .lisciiile  of  theFourth 
Gospel  with  John.* 

John  is  first  introduced  to  us  as  a  disciple  of 
John  the  Baptist  (Jn  1^).  How  long  he  had  been 
with  this  stern  preacher  of  the  desert  we  do  not 
know,  but  the  time  was  one  of  preparation  for 
tlie  higher  discipleship  soon  to  follow.  After  the 
Temptation  Jesus  returned  to  the  Jordan.  Then 
and  there  John  first  met  Jesus,  and,  with  Andrew, 
showed  such  deep  interest  in  Him  that  He  invited 
them  to  go  with  Him  to  His  abode.  So  critical 
was  the  hour  when  they  went — four  o'clock  in  the 
afternoon — that  it  was  remembered  long  years 
after  (l^-*").  John's  home  was  in  Galilee  (pro- 
bably at  Bethsaida),  where  his  father,  Zebedee,  a 
man  apparently  of  means  (Mk  1-°),  was  busy  as  a 
fisherman  on  the  Lake.  His  niotlier  w.'us  Salome 
(cf.  Mt  27=«  with  Mk  15^").  On  the  next  day  after 
Ids  first  meeting  with  Jesus,  John  accompanied 
Him  to  Galilefe,  and  was  present  at  the  marriage 
feast  at  Cana  (Jn  2'"").  From  Cana  they  went  to 
Capernaum,  in  order,  perhaps,  to  make" ready  for 
going  up  to  Jerusalem  to  the  Passover.  At  this 
first  Passover  Jesus  cleansed  the  Temple,  and  also 
'  did  signs '  which  awakened  popular  interest.  Here 
also  He  conversed  with  Nicodemus  (2"-3-').  The 
capital  had  not  shown  itself  ready  for  the  work  He 
w^ished  to  do,  so  Jesus  withdrew  into  the  country 
of  Judiea  and  summoned  the  people  to  the  baptism 
of  repentance,  just  as  the  Baptist  himself  was  doing. 

"  Dr.  Delff  has  with  considerable  force  advanced  and  defended 
the  theory  that  'the  disciple  whom  Jesus  loved'  was  not  the 
Apostle  John,  but  a  younger  disciple,  who  shared  all  the  privj. 
leges  of  the  Twelve,  "but  who  was  a  native  of  Jerusalem  and  a 
member  of  the  higher  aristocracy.  While  this  theory  explains 
satisfactorily  some  of  the  facts  given  in  the  Gospels,  it  is  beset 
with  grave  ditficulties. 


John  was  with  Him  all  through  this  sojourn  of 
over  seven  months  in  Judaia,  and  doubtless  assisted 
in  the  administering  of  the  baptismal  rite,  for 
Jesus  did  not  Himself  baptize  (4°).  At  the  end  of 
this  period  Jesus  returned  by  way  of  Samaria  to 
GalUee.  On  the  way  occurred  the  incident  of  the 
Samaritan  woman,  so  fully  depicted  for  us  in  the 
Fourth  Gospel  (4'"^-).  Once  more  the  Master  came 
to  Cana,  and  while  there  cured  the  nobleman's  son 
(y^.  46-5J)  poj.  a  jjj.jef  time  John  seems  now  to  have 
been  at  home,  and  to  have  engaged  in  his  customary 
business  of  fishing ;  but  the  Baptist's  imprison- 
ment was  the  signal  to  Jesus  for  more  vigorous 
work,  and  He  appeared  at  the  Lake-side  to  call  to 
be  His  permanent  escort  the  men  who  had  already 
acknowledged  Him  and  given  Him  some  service 
(Mk  !>«•=»,  Mt  4i«-^^  Lk  5'-").  John  now  entered 
upon  that  second  stage  of  discipleship  which  was 
to  prepare  liim  for  his  life-work.  The  record  of 
events  which  shows  Jesus  performing  miracles  and 
preaching  in  the  towns  and  villages  of  Galilee  is 
the  record  of  John's  training  (see  Mk  1^1-2^).  When, 
some  time  afterwards,  John  was  chosen  to  the 
Apostolate  (Mk  S"-""',  Mt  lO^-",  Lk  6'=-"),  it  was 
but  to  confirm  him  in  the  position  he  had  already 
occupied,  and  to  make  more  definite  his  mission. 
At  this  time  Jesus  called  him  and  his  brother 
Boanerges,  that  is,  '  sons  of  thunder '  (Mk  3").    See 


As  from  this  time  onwards  the  most  of  John's 
experiences  were  common  to  all  the  Apostles,  it  is 
necessary  to  mark  only  those  which  were  in  any 
way  exceptional  for  lum.  They  are  sufficient  to 
show  that  he  w^as  among  the  most  prominent  of 
the  little  band,  and  that  he  was  especially  close  in 
fi-iendship  to  the  Master.  With  Peter  and  James 
he  saw  the  raising  of  Jairus'  daughter  (Mk  5",  Lk 
8=').  These  three  were  with  Jesus  upon  the  Mount 
of  Transfiguration  (Mk  9'-,  Mt  17',  Lk  9^).  It  was 
John  who  '  answered  and  said.  Master  we  saw  one 
casting  out  devils  in  thy  name :  and  we  forbade 
him,  because  he  followeth  not  with  us'  (Mk9^,  Lk 
9'").  It  was  he  and  James  who  wished  to  call 
down  fire  upon  an  inhospitable  Samaritan  village 
(Lk  9").  His  mistaken  ambition  for  high  place  at 
the  side  of  his  Master  is  recorded  in  Mk  10",  Mt 
20-'.  He  took  part  in  the  questioning  about  the 
time  for  the  fulfilment  of  the  solemn  prophecies 
concerning  Jerusalem  (Mk  13^).  He  and  Peter 
were  sent  to  make  ready  the  Passover  (Lk  22*).  At 
the  supper  itself  he  reclined  '  in  Jesus'  bosom '  (see 
art.  BosoM),  ,ind  asked  Him  who  it  was  that  was 
to  be  the  betrayer  (Ju  13=3-2=).  In  the  garden  of 
Gethsemane  he  "was,  with  Peter  and  James,  near 
his  Master  (Mk  14^,  .Mt  26").  Panic-stricken,  he 
fled  with  all  the  other  disciples  at  the  time  of  the 
arrest  (Mt  26**),  but  soon  recovered  himself,  and 
followed  the  procession  to  the  palace  of  the  high 
priest  (Jn  18'^).  Being  known  to  the  high  priest, 
he  was  admitted  to  the  court  of  the  palace,  and 
secured  entrance  for  Peter  (v.'*).  Faithful  now 
to  the  last,  he  stood  near  the  cross,  and  there 
received  tlie  rMiniiii-^i.iii  to  care  for  the  mother  of 
Jesus  (lil'-'---  I  III  ill''  morning  of  the  resurrec- 
tion Mary  Mn  ..iil.  im  irlls  him  and  Peter  of  the 
empty  grave,  .iiid  tiny  hasten  together  to  the  spot 
(20-3).  In  tiie  account  of  the  appearance  of  the 
risen  Lord  in  Galilee  (21="')  the  'sons  of  Zebedee* 
have  special  mention,  and  again  in  the  closing 
scene  and  words  of  the  Fourth  Gospel  the  impr&s- 
sion  that  he  should  not  die  before  the  Lord's 
coming  is  corrected,  and  the  truthfulness  of  his 
witness  as  given  in  this  Gospel  confirmed  (21^"-''). 

Outside  of  the  Gospels  there  are  but  few  refer- 
ences to  him  in  the  IsT.  In  the  Acts  he  appears 
twice  in  the  company  of  Peter.  As  they  were 
going  together,  at  the  hour  of  prayer,  to  the 
Temple,  they  met  a  man,  lame  from  birth,  at  the 


JOHN  THE  APOSTLE 


JOHN  THE  APOSTLE 


Beautiful  Gate,  and  cured  him.  Tlie  deed  caused 
great  excitement,  and  a  large  crowd  gathered 
around  them  in  Solomon's  porch.  While  they 
were  speaking  to  the  people  the  authorities  came, 
and  '  being  sore  troubled  because  they  taught  the 
people,'  arrested  them,  and  on  the  following  day 
brought  them  before  the  Sanhedrm  (Ac  4').  Later, 
he  and  Peter  were  sent  to  Samaria  to  those  who 
had  received  the  word  of  God  under  Philip's 
ministry,  and  '  they  prayed  for  these  that  they 
might  receive  the' Holy  Ghost'  (8'^-''*).  About 
A.D.  50  we  find  John  in  Jerusalem,  for  at  that  time 
Paul  meets  him  there  and  consults  with  him 
regarding  his  work  among  the  Gentiles  (Gal  2'"). 
He  was  at  thi.s  time  one  of  the  pillars  of  the 
Church.  The  only  other  mention  of  him  in  the 
NT  is  in  Rev  1^  ». 

ii.  The  testimony  of  tradition.— 1.  Regard- 
ing  Juhn's  residence  in  Ephesus. — From  the  time 
of  his  meeting  with  Paul  in  Jerusalem  until  his 
activity  in  later  life  at  Ephesus.  we  have  no  certain 
knowledge  of  the  Apostle.  Nicephorus  {HE  ii.  2) 
tells  us  that  Mary  lived  with  John  in  Jerusalem  for 
eleven  years  after  the  death  of  the  Lord.  There  is 
nothing  unlikely  in  this  story,  imless  it  be,  as  Godet 
suggests,  that  '  his  own  home '  ( Jn  19-')  was  in 
Gdilee  rather  than  in  the  capital,  in  which  case 
there  would  be  an  ex]dniiatiiiii  of  tlir'  Apostle's 
absence  at  the  time  of  l';uirs  lir-l  \isil    to  tin'  city 

(Gal  118-W).       It    is    but    ,-..,, jrrlMW,    l„,»..vrr,    whl.'l, 

fixes  the  date  of  his  liii:i,l  .lr|,;,i  Mm'  trnm  .leiu- 
salem,  tli.m.uli  «,■  kii..\\  ilnl  li.'  \\..s  not  there 
when  Paul  i-.-iiur  for  llir  l.i-l  I  iiiir  (Ac  21"'"'-),  and 
that  the  si-11-.ol  111..  iin|i.ihliim  .Ic -Iriiction  of  the 
city  cans...!  all  ih,-  ('liri-n:iu:.  In  ivii,-,.  to  I'ella, 
c.  68  A.D.  (Kus.  J//-:  111.  ,-,.  :i|.  It  I.  ..I  i,„,r.-  ni..nirii|-, 
to  inquire  why  In'  ^llouM  u"  to  I'-iilicMis,  ami  in 
answer  two  rriisiins  may  l.r -iN-cn  :  {,/)  tlic  iniport- 
ance  of  this  i-it-^-  as  a  (riiln.  I.ir  inissiciiary  a(li\ity  ; 
and  (6)  the  ncr'cs,!!  y  of  rairyiir^  ..n  aial  .h^vlopiim 
the  work  of  Paul.'  In  thr  lall.-r  |iavl  oi  tl.r  l.,t 
cent,  'the  Chur<lf>  r,.„ir,.  .,1  univiiy  »as  „„l„„,,rr 
at  Jerusalem:  i(.  was  ,ii,f  urt  al  Komi';  it  mis  at 
Ephesus '  (Thiers.  1 1,,  I  uol.d  l.y  (Jodet,  Co/Ji.  oh  ./o/ih, 
vol.  i.  p.  45).  N.it  .iiil\  wilhiii  the  borders  of  this 
city  had  Christianity  ma.l.'  a  marked  impression, 
but  all  about  were  cities  in  wliieh  the  Church  had 
been  established.  The  seven  letters  in  the  Apoca- 
lypse enable  us  to  see  what  ceaseless  vigilance  and 
intelligent  care  were  needed  to  protect  these 
Churches  from  error  in  dor-trine,  ami  to  keep  them 
faithful  in  life.  No  l.ai.l.r  .all  t..r  Apostolic 
service  could  be  given  than   this  part   .>f  the  world 


was  then  giving,  and,  as  far  a-  iriulition  is  con- 
cerned, there  can  be  liltl.'  .j.ailil  that  .John  re- 
sponded to  this  call.  Just  at  I  his  point,  however, 
criticism,  in  the  interest  ..f  it^  .lis.  u^sions  regard- 
ing the  authorshii>  of  the  Fourth  ( i.isp.'l,  has  taken 
its  stand,  and  tried  to  make  it  appear  that  tradition 
is  untrustworthy.  The  Ephesian  residence  of  John 
is  therefore  a  critical  matter,  and  as  such  must 
be  given  somewliat  extended  attention.  The  main 
witnesses  for  the  common  tradition  are  Irenseus, 
Polycrates  (Bishop  of  Ephesus),  and  Clement  of 
Alexandria. 

{a)  IrentBxs  bears  repeated  testimony  to  the 
Apostle's  presence  in  Asia,  and  says  explicitly  : 

'  Afterwards '  (i.e.  after  the  first  three) '  John  the  disciple  of  the 
Lo  d    vl  o  al  o  laj  o     H  s  breast    1  kev,    e  publ  shed  a  Gospel 

1  le  d  veU  n       t  E]  he    s    (ad     Ha:  1)      Pol  carp     as 

not  onl     nst      ted  b    the  Apostl      a    1  h  d    nte  course  with 

anv  who  had    een  Chr   t    but  h         si  tailed  by  the 

Apostle   a    B  si  0]    n  As  a  n  the  Chu    1  at  S  W  e  al  o 

s       h  n  (P  I        p)      our  earl     t        tl    f      1     I       i  1  ng 


preserved  1  y  Euseb  us  (HE  v    '. 
e  ol  ect  ons  of  Polj  carp     The 

e  1  s  bod  1    fern    the  I  scours 
t  e  account    vh  ch  he  ga  e  of  1 


o      Lo       n  I  the  other  Apostles  vith    ho     he  had  assoc  ated 
(E       Hh        4) 

The  \  al  le  of  all  tl  testimonj  i  enhanced  w  hen 
one  I  aik  the  o  eilaipn^  of  li\es^\hi  his  here 
evident.  Polycarp  suffered  martyrdom  in  the  year 
A.D.  155  at  the  age  of  86.  He  was  bom,  therefore, 
in  the  year  69.  If  John  lived  until  Trajan's  time, 
it  were  easily  possible  for  the  two  to  have  asso- 
ciated with  each  other.  Irenjeus  while  a  boy 
(12-18  years  of  age)  listened  with  peculiar  and 
observant  attentiveness  to  Polycarp.  These  three 
names  cover  over  a  century.  They  link  together 
in  such  a  manner  the  experiences  oi  personal  asso- 
ciations and  reverent  memories  that  the  evidence 
for  John's  presence  in  Ephesus  seems  well-nigh 
conclusive.  Its  cogency,  however,  is  supposed  to 
greatly  weakened  by  two  important  considera- 


tions :  (a)  the  silence 
ing  the  Ephesian  rcsi. 
(•.)nfusion,  on  the  part 
Apostle  with  John  tin- 
the  silence  of  Polycarp 
but  it  is  not  beyond  cxj 
is  to  the  Philippian  t'ln 
ence  to  John.  The  ah- 
Apostle  in  the  Epistle  o 


i,ul\ 


older  writers  regard- 
l  {/))  the  possible 
I  us,  of  John  the 
■r.  At  first  sight 
It  ins  is  surprising, 
I'oly carp's  letter 
I'lills  for  no  refer- 
ill  mention  of  the 
s  t.)  the  Ephesians 
hut  an  argument 
I-  is  pri-.ari.nir,  wli.ii  .iin'  considers  how 
.'  lain-s  in  ev.-n  lli.'  nam.'  of  Paul.  It 
is  appar.'iitly  the  similarity  of  tli.'ir  fortunes  which 
lea.ls  him  to  speak  of  this  Apostle  at  all,  for  just 
as  I'aul  had  sent  for  the  elders  of  the  Ephesian 
( 'hur.li  to  meet  him  at  Miletus  on  his  way  to  im- 
j.ris.inment  in  Rome,  so  Ignatius  at  Smyrna  re- 
ceived a  delegation  from  Ephesus  [Ephes.  12). 
This  would  exclude  any  reference  to  John  ;  and  in 
view  of  all  other  evidence,  it  can  be  as  certainly 
affirmed,  as  it  can  be  denied,  that  the  general 
reference  in  the  previous  section  covers  the  name 
of  John.  This  reference  is,  'May  I  be  found  in 
the  lot  of  the  Christians  of  Ephesus,  who  have 
always  been  of  the  same  mind  with  the  Apostles 
through  the  power  of  Jesus  Christ'  {Ephcs.  11). 
When,  moreover,  one  takes  into  account  the 
scantiness  of  the  remains  of  this  early  period, 
the  probable  growth  of  John's  reputation  during 
the  2nd  century,  .and  the  prevalence  in  the  Igna- 
tian  Epistles  themselves  of  a  Johannine  type  of 
teaching  (see  von  der  Goltz's  '  Ignatius  von  Antio- 
chien  als  Christ  und  Theolog'  in  TU,  Bd.  xii.  [1894]), 
the  argument  from  silence  loses  much  of  its  force. 
The  other  consideration  urged  against  the  testi- 
mony of  Irenanis  is  really  a  seconding  of  the  cor- 
rection made  by  Eusebius  of  the  declaration  of 
Irenseus  that  '  Papias  was  a  hearer  of  John  and  a 
companion  of  Polycarp'  (adv.  Ha-r.  v.  33.  4).*  The 
words  of  Eusebius  are  found  in  his  History,  iii.  39. 
After  quoting  the  above  words  from  Irenjeus,  he 
says,  'But  Papias  himself  by  no  means  declares 
that  he  was  himself  a  hearer  and  eye-witness  of 
tlie  holy  Apostles ' ;  and  then  he  goes  on  to  infer 
that  it  was  the  Presbyter  John  who  was  meant  in 
the  statement  of  Irenseus.  This  brings  us  to  the 
examination  of  the  witness  of  Papias  in  its  bearing 
upon  the  whole  question.  In  his  preface  to  his 
Expositions  of  the  Oracles  of  the  Lord  he  says  : 

'  This  objection  is  urged  by  Keim,  Harnack,  Holtzmann,  and 
other  modern  critics  in  their  discussion  of  the  authorship  ot 
John's  Gospel. 


JOHX  THE  APOSTLE 


JOHN  THE  APOSTLE 


'  But  I  shall  not  hesiUte  also  to  put  down  for  you  along  with 
my  interpretations  whatsoever  things  I  have  at  any  time  learned 
carefully  from  the  elders  and  carefully  remembered,  guarantee- 
ing their  truth.  For  I  did  not,  like  the  multitude,  take  pleasure 
in  those  that  speak  much,  but  in  those  that  speak  the  truth ; 
not  in  those  that  relate  strange  connnandments,  but  in  those 
that  deliver  the  commandments  given  by  the  Lord  to  faith  and 
springing  from  the  truth  itself.  If,  then,  an.vone  came  who  had 
been  a  follower  of  the  elders,  I  questioned  him  in  regard  to  the 
words  of  the  elders — what  Andrew  or  what  Peter  said,  or  what 
was  said  by  Philip,  or  by  Thomas,  or  by  James,  or  by  John,  or 
by  Matthew,  or  by  any  other  of  the  disciples  of  the  Lord,  and 
what  things  Aristion  and  the  presb.ner  John,  the  disciples  of  the 
Lord,  say.  For  I  did  not  think  that  what  was  to  be  gotten 
from  the  books  would  profit  me  as  much  as  what  came  from  the 
living  and  abiding  voice'  (Eus.  HE  iii.  39). 

A  just  interpretation  of  these  words  must  allow 
for  a  distinction  between  the  Apostle  John  and  the 
Presbyter  John,  but  the  inference  based  on  the 
tense  of  the  verb  in  the  sentence,  'What  things 
Aristion  and  the  Presbyter  John,  the  disciples  of 
the  Lord,  sa>/,' — that  Papias  was  actually  a  hearer 
of  the  Presbyter,  —is  very  questionable.  Much  dis- 
cussion has  been  given  to  the  import  of  this  latter 
part  of  Papias'  preface.  A  thoroughly  satisfactory 
understanding  is,  however,  that  which  makes  these 
words  we  have  just  quoted  refer  not  to  the  spoken 
witness,  but  to  the  written  testimony  of  Aristion 
and  the  Presbyter  John.*  In  his  search  for  en- 
lightenment Pajpias  inquired  after  the  unwTitten 
sayings  of  all  referred  to  e.\:cept  Aristion  and  John 
the  Presbyter.  In  their  ease  his  inquiry  was  con- 
cerning their  written  sayings  about  which  there 
might  be  some  doubt.  '  The  books,'  bearing 
possibly^  such  titles  as  '  Narratives  of  Aristion,'  or 
'Traditions  of  the  Presbyter  John,'  needed  con- 
firmation by  competent  witnesses.  Papias  had  not 
the  same  confidence  in  them  as  in  oral  reports. 
Points  which  confirm  this  understanding  are  (1) 
the  hesitation  of  Eusebius  about  his  own  inference 
that  Papias  was  an  actual  hearer  of  John  the 
Presbyter  ['  at  least  he  mentions  them  frequently 
by  name,  and  gives  their  traditions  in  writing' 
(HE  iii.  39)] ;  ('2)  the  suggested  antitheses  in  the 
phrases  'his  own  Avriting'  and  'unwritten  tradi- 
tion,' which  are  fovmd  in  the  accounts  of  the 
sources  of  Papias  later  on  in  the  same  section  (H£ 
iii.  39 :  '  The  same  author  has  coiiimunirated  also 
other  things  that  came  to  liim  as  from  unwritten 
tradition ' ;  '  but  he  also  commits  to  his  own  writ- 
ing other  narratives  of  the  sayings  of  the  Lord  of 
the  aforesaid  Aristion  and  traditions  of  the  Pres- 
byter John  ').  '  His  own  Avriting '  suggests  some- 
body else's  ^^Titing ;  the  '  unwritten  tradition ' 
suggests  written  tradition.  If  this  interpretation 
of  the  words  of  Papias  be  true,  then  it  atfords  no 
evidence  that  Papias  was  a  hearer  of  the  Presbyter 
John.  Indeed,  it  does  not  requiro  n-  tn  t]nnk  that 
he  was  living  at  the  time  the  worl-  ..i  1'  n,;.!,  were 
written,  or  that  he  was  even  c\  ■i  m  lili.  u~  ,a  all. 
The  only  support  we  have  fur  tin-  l;iA  Mi|iiii»ition 
is  Dionysius  of  Alexandria,  who  in  the  interests  of 
the  authorship  of  the  Apocalypse  by  some  other 
John  than  the  Apostle  cites  the  tradition  that 
'  there  are  two  monuments  in  Ephesus,  each  bear- 
ing the  name  of  John.' 

VVe  come  back  now  to  Irenoeus.  The  statement 
which  he  makes  regarding  the  relationship  of 
Pajjias  to  the  Apostle  John  and  to  Polycarp  is  not 
derived  from  the  preface  of  Papias  (see  above),  and 
if  there  is  no  possible  confusion  in  the  two  Jolms, 
we  need  only  ask  wliat  value  the  positive  state- 
ment of  Ireuieus  really  has.  Recall  for  a  moment 
his  reference  to  Polycarp.  If  these  words  are  true, 
and  there  is  no  reason  to  doubt  them,  then  it  was 
no  mere  passing  acquaintance  which  Irenasus  had 
with  Polycarp.  He  had  carefully  observed  him, 
and  attentively  listened  to  his  discourses.  Can  it 
be  possible  that  he  understood  him,  whenever  he 


spoke  of  John,  to  be  referring  to  John  the  Pres- 
byter, and  was  Polycarp  himself  talking  of  his 
intercourse  with  John  the  Presbyter  ?  Such  confu- 
sion as  this  on  the  part  of  men  so  intimately  related 
is  quite  improbable.  Certainly  it  is  equally  improb- 
able that,  at  the  early  time  of  Polycarp,  John  the 
Presbyter  should  have  become  such  a  figure  in 
Ephesus  that  Polycarp  could  speak  of  him  exactly 
as  if  he  were  Jolm  the  Apostle.  There  is  there- 
fore no  svifBcient  reason  for  doubting  the  testimony 
of  Irena?vis. 

(6)  In  turning  to  the  witness  of  Polycrates,  it  is 
well  to  note  that  he  was  Bishop  of  Ephesus,  had 
seven  relatives  who  were  bishops,  and  was  at  the 
time  of  his  letter  to  Victor,  Bishop  of  Rome,  an 
old  enough  man  to  have  been  living  at  the  time  of 
Polycarp.  He  was  therefore  in  a  position  to  know 
fuUy  whereof  he  wrote.  This  fact  of  the  continuity 
of  experiences  as  lying  behind  these  several  testi- 
monies needs  repeated  emphasis.  In  his  letter  to 
Victor  (see  Eus.  HE  v.  24)  he  is  WTiting  upon  the 
Quartodeciman  question,  and  citing  his  autnorities 
for  the  observance  of  the  'fourteenth  day  of  the 
Passover  according  to  the  Gospel.'  Among  these 
he  places  'John,  who  was  both  a  witness  and  a 
teacner  who  reclined  upon  the  bosom  of  the  Lord, 
and  being  a  priest  wore  the  sacerdotal  plate.  He 
fell  asleep  at  Ephesus.' 

The  reference  to  one  '  who  reclined  upon  the  bosom  of  the 
Lord'  seems  to  point  unmistakably  to  the  Apostle,  but  two 
statements  of  Polycrates  seem  to  some  to  run  counter  to  this : 
(1)  That  he  was  a  priest  and  wore  the  saoerdoul  plate  (ri 
TETaAov).  From  the  fact  that  Epiphanius  {HcBr.  xxvii.  14)  says 
the  same  of  James  the  brother  of  the  Lord,  it  is  probably  a 
purely  figurative  statement,  indicating  the  exalted  and  revered 
position  of  these  men  among  their  Christian  brethren.  (2)  The 
other  counter-statement  is  derived  from  the  notice  given  of 
Philip  in  this  same  letter.  It  is  claimed  that  Polycrates  has 
clearly  confused  the  .\postles  and  Evangehsts,  hence  he  may 
have  in  the  same  way  confused  John  the  Apostle  with  John  the 
Presbyter.  The  whole  question  turns  upon  the  allusion  to  the 
daughters  of  Philip.  Briefly  stated,  the  disputed  evidence  is 
this.  Papias,  the  earliest  witness,  places  Philip  among  the 
Apostles  (HE  iii.  39).  Then  he  goes  on  to  relate  a  wonderful 
tale  which  he  heard  from  the  daughters  of  Philip.  There  is  no 
indication  whatever  that  this  is  not  the  same  PhiUp  just  referred 
to.  Polycrates  now  follows  with  his  testimony  that  among  those 
who  had  died  in  Asia  was  '  Philip,  one  of  the  Twelve  Apostles, 
who  sleeps  in  Hierapolis,  and  his  two  virgin  daughters  and 
another  daughter  who  lived  in  the  Holy  Spirit  and  now  rests  at 
Ephesus '  (HE  iii.  31).  Again  the  reference  to  the  Apostle  is 
clear.  Clement  of  Alexandria  declares  that  the  Apostles  Peter 
and  Philip  had  children,  and  that  Phihp  gave  his  daughters  to 
husbands  (Strom,  iii.  6).  From  all  this  it  is  clear  that  the 
Apostle  Philii;  had  daughters.  So  far  there  seems  to  be  no  con- 
fusion. If  this  comes  in  at  all,  it  appears  in  a  statement  of 
Proclus,  who,  speaking  of  the  death  of  Philip  and  his  daughters, 
says:  'After  this  arose  four  prophetesses,  the  daughters  of 
Philip,  at  Hierapolis  in  Asia.  Their  tomb  is  there,  and  the  tomb 
of  their  father'  (HE  iii.  31).  The  close  resemblance  of  this 
record  to-  the  statement  in  Ac  il"  makes  it  appear  that  the 
Evangelist  is  referred  to ;  but  even  if  the  identification  of  the  two 
Philips  be  here  allowed,  it  is  made  comparatively  late,  and  need 
not  involve  Polycrates.  'The  report  of  Polycrates  deserves  our 
credence  rather  than  that  of  Proclus,  because,  in  the  first  place, 
Polycrates  was  earlier  than  Proclus:  in  the  second  place, 
because  his  report  is  more  exact,  and  it  is  hard  to  imagine  how, 
if  all  four  were  buried  in  one  place,  the  more  detailed  report  of 
Polycrates  could  have  arisen,  while  on  the  other  hand  it  is  quite 
easy  to  explain  the  rise  of  the  more  general  but  inexact  account 
of  Proclus '  (McGiffert  on  Eusebius.  i/i  loco).  It  should  be  noted 
also  that  we  have  in  Polycrates,  as  a  contemporary  of  Irenious, 
an  independent  witness. 

(c)  It  is  in  connexion  with  the  story  of  the  young 
convert  who  subsequently  became  a  robber  that 
Clement  of  Alexandria  speaks  of  John's  residence 
in  Asia.  The  value  of  this  testimony  lies  in  the 
fact  that  Clement,  in  gathering  memoranda  to  be 
'  stored  up  against  old  age  as  a  remedy  against  for- 
getfulness,'  had  collected  traditions  handed  down 
'  from  the  holy  Apostles  Peter,  James,  John,  and 
Paul,  the  sons  receiving  it  from  the  father.'  As 
Drummond  says  of  this  witness,  '  It  seems  probable 
that  we  have  here  a  distinct  line  of  tradition  which 
affords  independent  confirmation  of  the  statements 
of  Irenaeus  and  Polycrates.'  The  clearness,  posi- 
tiveness,  and  fulness  of  the  witness  of  these  three. 


JOHN  THE  APOSTLE 


JOHN,  GOSPEL  OF 


869 


taken  to^'ether  with  tlie personal  relations invoheil, 
affords  adequate  basis  for  the  general  belief  of  the 
Church  that  in  the  latter  part  of  his  life  John  made 
his  home  in  Ephesus. 

2.  Begardinri  John's  banishment  to  Patmos. — 
The  discussion  of  the  deliverances  of  tradition  in 
regard  to  John's  exile  in  Patmos  is  vitally  con- 
nected with  the  authorship  of  the  Apocalypse  (see 
art.  '  John,  Gospel  of,'  in  Hastings'  DB  ii.  707  ff. ). 
The  references  to  this  fact  are  quite  numerous  in 
the  Fathers,  and  berin  with  Clement  of  Alexandria 
(A.D.  190).  Tertullian,  Origen,  Eusebius,  Epi- 
phanius,  Jerome  all  speak  of  it,  but  do  not  agree 
as  to  the  time  of  it.  Epiphanius  (Hcer.  12)  assigns 
it  to  the  reign  of  Claudius,  while  Clement  of 
Alexandria,  Eusebius,  and  Jerome  place  it  in  the 
reign  of  Domitian.  Internal  evidence  from  the 
Apocalyi^se  itself  favours  an  early  time,  while 
tradition  is  explicit  about  the  later  date.  All 
testimonies  to  the  exUe  are  probably  based  upon 
the  statement  found  in  Kev  1",  and  this  gives  no 
real  foundation  for  any  banishment  at  all.  If  John 
was  in  Patmos,  it  may  be  that  he  went  thither,  as 
Weiss  supposes,  to  find  a  religious  retreat,  or,  as 
others  think,  to  avoid  persecution. 

3.  Begardinfi  John's  death. — In  accord  with  the 
statement  of  Irenaius  that  '  John  remained  among 
them  (the  disciples)  in  Asia  up  to  the  time  of 
Trajan'  (adv.  Hmr.  ii.  22),  it  has  been  generally 
believed  that  the  Apostle  lived  to  a  ripe  old  age, 
and  died  quietly  at  Ephesus.  Of  late  this  opinion 
has  been  earnestly  disputed,  on  the  basis  of  a 
statement  found  in  the  Chronicle  of  Georgius 
Hamartolos  (9th  cent.),  which  reads,  'Papias, 
Bishop  of  Hierapolis,  declares  in  the  second  book 
of  the  Oracles  of  the  Lord  that  John  was  put  to 
death  by  the  Jews.'  This  testimony  has  been 
confirmed  by  the  de  Boor  Fragment,  which  ex- 
pressly says  that  Papias  tells  in  his  second  book 
of  the  death  of  James  and  John  at  the  hands  of 
the  Jews.  Of  course,  if  John  the  Apostle  died  in 
this  way,  there  is  nothing  left  but  to  take  some 
other  John  as  the  John  of  Ephesus ;  and  all  the 
testimonjr  of  Irenieus,  Polycrates,  and  Clement  of 
Alexandria  has  a  confusion  of  names  underlying 
it ;  also  the  John  of  the  Apostolic  council  (Gal  2'') 
was  not  the  son  of  Zebedee.  All  this  is  by  no 
means  likely.  Various  attempts  have  been  made 
to  account  for  the  record  of  Georgius— such  as 
Lightfoot's  supposition  of  a  lacuna,  which  was 
later  filled  in  as  we  now  have  it  (see  Essay 
on  Supernatural  Melirjion,  p.  211  fi'.);  or  Zahn  s 
{Forscli.  vi.  147-151)  oif  an  interpolation,  and  that 
Papias  was  really  referring  to  the  Baptist ;  but  the 
more  probable  explanation  is  that  the  statement 
arose  from  a  desire  to  find  a  fulfilment  of  Mk 
1038. 39^  ^T^f^  a,  mistaken  interpretation  of  the  word 
luxpTvpCiv,  which  in  its  earlier  sense  did  not  neces- 
sarily involve  death.  It  is  certainly  not  easy  to 
understand  why  Eusebius  and  others  ignored  the 
fact,  if  such  it  was. 

Thus  far  we  have  sought  to  get  at  the  real  facts 
of  tradition.  It  will  surprise  no  one  to  know  that 
the  life  of  one  so  eminent  as  Jolm  was  embellished 
with  all  manner  of  legends,  such  as  his  meeting 
with  Cerinthus  in  the  bath-house  at  Ephesus  (ndv. 
Hmr.  iii.  3,  4) ;  Iiis  being  carried  in  extreme  old 
age  to  the  church,  and  saying,  '  Little  children,  love 
one  another'  (Jerome,  Com.  ad  Gal.  vi.  11);  his 
recovery  of  the  j^oung  robber  from  his  life  of 
shame  (Eus.  HE  lii.  23) ;  his  immersion  in  a  cal- 
dron of  boiling  oil  (Tert.  Prceseripf.  Hwr.  ch. 
xxvi.);  and  a  number  of  others.  Some  of  them 
may  have  germs  of  truth  in  them.  They  all  seek 
in  some  way  to  illustrate  the  noble  character  of  the 
man,  or  to  interpret  the  prophecy  of  the  Gospels 
regarding  his  earthly  destiny. 

lii.  The  chaeacter  of  John.— It  is  commonly 


thought  that  John  was  of  a  gentle,  contemplative 
nature,  and  almost  effeminate  in  character.  Con- 
templative he  was,  and  the  Gospel  is  but  an 
expression  of  his  profound  meditation  upon  the 
character  and  work  of  his  Master  ;  but  a  moment's 
refiexion  upon  some  of  the  scenes  of  the  Gospels 
(see  Mt  20-""^,  Lk  9'''-  ^■'),  in  correspondence  with 
which  are  some  of  the  legends  regarding  his  later 
life,  will  show  that  this  Apostle  was,  at  least  in 
earlier  life,  impetuous,  intolerant,  and  ambitious. 
Doubtless  he  was  effectively  moulded  by  the  Spirit 
of  Christ  during  his  long  discipleship,  but  he  was 
always  stem  and  uncompromising  in  his  hatred  of 
evil  and  in  his  defence  of  truth.  He  loved  with  a 
strong,  passionate  devotion,  and  he  hated  all  Avrong 
and  untruth  as  only  one  can  who  understands  as 
profoundly  as  he  did  the  significance  of  his  Lord 
and  His  teaching.  Because  of  his  profound  under- 
standing, he  writes  as  one  who  has  an  immediate 
perception  of  truth.  He  does  not  reason  as  does 
Paul.  He  satv  '  the  King  in  his  beauty,'  or,  to  use 
his  own  words,  '  the  glory  of  the  only-begotten  of 
the  F'ather  '  (Jn  1''').  His  strength  and  devotion 
made  him  courageous  ;  his  affection  and  sympathy 
made  him  tender  and  abundantly  helpful.  His 
was  the  finest  type  of  strong  manhood  made 
beautiful  by  spiritual  purity. 


of  the  Fourth  ( 


following :  James  Drummond,  The  Character  and  Authorship 
Fourth  Gospel ;  V.  H.  Stanton,  The  Goepettt  as  llistorical 
Documents ;  W.  Sanday,  The  Criticisin  of  the  Fourth  Gospel ; 
A.  C.  McGiffert,  The  Apostolic  Age ;  Eneyc.  Bibl.  art.  '  John, 
Son  of  Zebedee  * ;  Hastings*  DB,  art.  *  John,  the  Apostle ' ; 
Harnack,  Chronol.  der  Altchrist.  Lit.  bis  Emebius,  pp.  320-340, 
656-680  ;  Keim,  Geech.  Jem  von  A'azara.  Eng.  tr.  i.  pp.  211-232. 

James  S.  Kiggs. 
JOHN,  GOSPEL  OF  (I.  :  Critical  article).- 
Introduction. 


2.  Justin  Martyr, 

3.  Tatian. 

4.  The  Apostolic  Fathers. 

5.  Evidence    derived    from    Opponents    of    the    Church 

doctrine. 

0.  Evidence  afforded  by  the  Quartodeciman  controversj-. 
7.  The  Alogi. 

ii.  Internal  evidence  of  authorship. 

1.  The  author  is  a  Jew. 

2.  The  author  is  a  Jew  of  Palestine. 

3.  A  contemporary  of  the  events  and  persons. 

4.  Relationship  to  Jesus  and  the  Apostolic  circle. 

5.  Is  John  the  Apostle  the  author? 

iii.  The  divergences  from  the  Synoptic  narrative, 
iv.  The  problem  of  the  historicity  of  the  Gospel. 
Literature. 

Introduction. — It  is  important  to  remember  that 
the  Kingdom  of  Christ  was  in  being  before  the 
Gospel  records  were  written.  They  did  not  origin- 
ate the  institution,  but  are  themselves  the  expres- 
sion of  it.  Previous  to  the  publication  of  the 
Johannine  Gospel,  which  is  the  latest  of  the  four, 
St.  Paul  had  completed  his  mission  to  the  Gentiles  ; 
and  in  Ephesus,  where  the  Gospel  was  written,  his 
doctrine  had  already  an  assured  place  in  the  Chris- 
tian Church.  It  is  therefore  historically  untrue  to 
.say  that  faith  in  the  Divine  Person  and  work  of 
Jesus  is  de.stroyed  if  the  authenticity  of  the  Fourth 
Gospel  cannot  be  proved.  For  the  basis  of  our 
faith  we  must  dig  deeper  than  the  results  of  critical 
investigation. 

The  question,  however,  of  the  authorship  of  this 
Gospel  is  more  than  a  merely  academic  one.  It 
occupies  a  unique  position.  None  of  the  other 
three  claims  to  be  written  by  the  man  whose  name 
it  bears,  but  the  Fourth  Gosi)el  is  issued  with  an 
explicit  statement  to  that  effect  (SI-'-*).  Moreover, 
its  contents  are  vitally  connected  witli  the  indi- 
viduality (if  tliH  author.  The  very  way  in  which 
his  identity  is  studiously  concealed  shows  that  the 
writer  is  lii'iiiself  conscious  that  the  Gospel  contains 
a  personal  testimony,  which  he  does  not  hesitate  to 


870 


JOHN,  GOSPEL  OF 


JOHN,  GOSPEL  OF 


present  as  objective  and  mipersoual.  We  desire  to 
know  who  it  is  that  claims  to  be  an  eye-witness  ;  who 
it  is  that  narrates  events  and  disf-c-ses  of  Jes'is  "o 
distinct  in  character  from  the  Synoptic!  and  yet 
meant  to  occupy  a  place  alongside  these  without 
contradiction  ;  who  it  is  that  has  ^o  boldh  mingled 
historic  fact  and  ideal  conception--  tint  has  t,nen 
to  the  Person  of  Christ  a  timtltss  tusiiiic  si^ni 
hcance,  and  has  represented  oui  lorl  in  Hi--  t 
and  in  His  words  as  Himself  ju  tit>in^  tint 
l^ression  and  those  claims.  If,  i  is  (titun  tl 
work  is  influenced  by  developed  tlitol  i^u  d 
ceptions,  and  reflects  the  conteiiipoi  u\  hi  tnK  i 
situation  of  the  Christian  Church  ve  desiie  to  1l 
certain  that  the  writer  was  in  a  position  not  sti  i 
ously  to  misrepresent  the  actual  facts  I  hi--  is  no 
merely  antiquarian  question.  Theic  can  be  no 
doubt  that  the  Gospel  is  intendea  to  oe  reaa  as  tne 
work  of  the  Apostle,  and  it  would  seriously  detract 
from  its  value,  if,  as  extreme  critics  are  more  and 
more  inclined  to  allow,  that  claim  means  only  that 
it  contains  a  nucleus  of  Johannine  tradition.  The 
same  objection  applies  to  all  partition  theories  of  the 


Gospel  {c.ff.  Wendt's),  and  it  is  assumed  in  this  article 
that  their  authors  have  failed  to  prove  their  case. 
If,  on  the  other  hand,  the  writer  was  the  beloved 


we  have  an  assurance  that  when,  for  example,  he 
wrote  the  opening  sentences  of  the  Gospel,  he  felt 
himself  in  touch  not  merely  with  current  theological 
thought,  but  with  the  historic  fact  of  the  conscious- 
ness of  Jesus  of  Nazari'Hi,  So  fur  from  being  a 
stumbling-block  to  the  .loli.uiniiii'  .lutliorship,  the 
Prologue  even  gains  in  valur  :iihI  si-nillcance  with 
the  acceptance  of  thotraililioii.il  \\r\\ .  Tho  striking,' 
juxtaposition  in  llic  rrnlouurcf  tin.  lim.l.-^s  l.ci'jo^ 
idea  and  the  liis|..iic.-il  \\itiii-^  nf  tlir  r.:!|.ii-l.  \n 
whom  the  concc|_il  inn  was  \iiif.-iiiiiliai ,  an.l  ihr  in- 
quent  mention  ot  tliu  r!a]ili-t  iIhoii-Ih.iii  i  lir  (  ;..s]ii'I, 
even  at  times  when  thi'  >ii  uai  ion  -i  ai v,-l\-  ilcinamls 

it  (e..(/._10*'-*2),  are  saved  tiMiii  alii  ii|ii '..njyif  (he 

writer  is  developing  an  iiii|iii~-iiiii  lii.ailc  mi  liim  liy 
his  earliest  tcaclin.  mIk.  le.l  limi  I.,  t'lirist.  His 
expericiHc  >tii>tili(>  in  ■■m-  iiintiiiuiius  whole  from 
thattiiiM-  ti.  Ilii-  «li.-n  hr  l..-iiis  ti.  write. 

I.  EXTKHSAL  l-'.VIhF.SCK  iVU  THE  AUTHOR- 
SHIP OF  THE  Fourth  Gospel.— The  face  of  the 
Johannine  problem  has  greatly  changed  since  the 
days  of  Baur  and  his  school.  The  proiihecy  of 
Lightfoot,  that  '  we  may  look  forward  to  tlie  time 


been  amply  fultillcd.  sii  I  In  ah.  may  lie  regarded 
as  the  termini  a  i^Hoand  mf  :/ii,  ,,,  \,n  The  elate  of  the 
writing,  and  the  trend  of  iii.nlerii  lii.iiiinii  is  towards 
tlip  end  "f  the  1st  century.  Thi.^  result  makes  it 
ile^iivilile  til  throw  the  emphasis  in  a  less  degree  on 
till'  iMciii.il  evidence  for  an  early  date,  and  in  a 
urealei  .Iruree  cm  the  evidence  for  the  Apostolic 
autlu»rslii|j.  If,  liiiwever.  the  problem  of  external 
evidence  be  presentiil  in  tlii^  f'lnn,  we  mu.st  guard 
ourselves  against  a  iiiiain  feeling  of  disappoint- 
ment at  the  iiiiaLii  li  -nil-.  In  the  first  place, 
there  is  no  eviiliine  ili.n  tlie  Apostolic  author- 
ship was  contesiiil  m  ihi.  jml  eent.  except  by  the 
Alogi ;  and  nom-  iliai  ii  was  ever  debated..  The 
questions  that  a-iiaii.j  il,,.  mind  of  the  Church  in 


Go.spel.  Kmyyt 
the  general  con 
the  facts  conee 
Lord,  and  we  li 


{Apol.  I.  Ixvi.).  The  contrast  between  tne  Synop- 
tics and  John  in  this  period  arose  entirely  from  the 
,i;«e''°"'"'=  '"  '="^je'-t-"^<"t+e'-  °n''  t'^o-e  '-  "oi"dica 
tion  th  vt  the  1  oui  th  Gospel  v  as  set  on  i  lo^\  ei  jJane 
ot  auth<>iit> 


YVl'Tani 


W    ( 


11  1 


Julu 


AN  e   shiU   now    pioteed    to   cxanune   in  detail 
^\oIUln^  backwards  fiom  the  end  of  the  2nd  cent 
tne  eviaence  of   tnose   Lcciesiasiical   writers  wno 
have    made   direct   or   indirect   reference    to  the 
Fourth  Gospel. 

1.  A  group  of  writers  in  the  last  quarter  of  the 
2nd  cent,  whose  geographical  distribution  over  the 
Christian  Church  gives  evidence  of  a  widespread 
tradition. 

(1)  Irenseus  was  bishop  of  Lyons  in  Gaul.  His 
work  entitled  Against  Heresies  has  come  down  to 
us,  and  in  the  writings  of  Eusebius  we  possess  other 
fragments.  An  important  letter  to  Florinus  has 
also  been  preserved.  The  date  of  his  literary 
acti^dty  may  be  put  within  the  limits  173-190.  He 
explicitly  attributes  the  Fourth  Gospel  to  the 
Apostle,  and  gives  it  a  jilace  alongside  Matthew, 
Mark,  and  Luke.     He  says  that  '  .Inlin,  the  disciple 


of  the  Lord,  who  learn 
while  dwelling  in  l^jil 
'{rrr.\\\.\.  1).      Stvi>-s 


east,  wrote  it 
y  of  Asia'  (adv. 
laid  on  the  fact 
s  not  merely  as 
\  |.i.-ii.iii-,  iiiii  .ii-i.  .i-  iii-|'iii-u  ii^  ilie  Holy  Spirit. 
I'.ir  him  the  irailiii.iii  oi  the  f<.uri..lil  Gospel,  which 
he  sii|i|iiirls  struiigly,  lias  pa>scd  in lo  a  deep  spiritual 
hut,  whieh  he  .seeks  to  establish,  not  by  bringing 
fiiiwaid  iirciofs  of  authorship,  but  in  his  well-known 
mystic  fasliion.  'The  gospel  is  the  Divine  breath 
or  w  ord  of  life  for  men  ;  there  are  four  chief  winds  ; 
therefore  four  Gospels,'  He  brings  forward  other 
analogies,  all  of  which  are  equally  fanciful,  but 
serve  to  show  that  this  firm  belief  in  the  fourfold 
Gospel  as  a  I>i\  iiie  arrangement  could  not  have  been 
acreatiiiii  ill  hisuwii  minil,  Imt  represents  a  tradition 
of  eiinsiileral.li'  aiitii|iiit  \ .     The  opinion  of  Irenseus 


i  at  V  ienne  and  Lyons 
lor  during  the  time  of 
mseus  is  in  touch  with 


(2)  Clement  of  Alexandria  is   the  author  of  a 

,stateiiiiiii  |iii -erveil  hy  laisel.iiis  (llEvi.  14),  which 
profes-e-  til  ie|ireseiit  '  the  ti.ulitiiin  of  the  Presby- 
ters [roiii  llie  lir>,L  [TvapuooaLv  tu^v  df^Kadev  irpej- 
fivT^puv)  that  John,  last,  having  observed  that  the 
bodily  things  [ffwuariKd,  i.e.  the  simple  facts  relating 
to  the  life  and  teaching  of  Christ]  had  Ireen  set  forth 
in  the  Gospels,  on  the  exhortation  of  liis  friends 
{yndipi/jioi),  inspired  by  the  Spirit.  ]iriiilmei|  a  spiri- 
tual Gospel.'     From  about  IS'J.  i'lr ni   ^^.ls  head 

of  the  celebrated  catechetical  sel I  ai  .\l.\andria. 

His  ureal  n\erenre  for  his  teacher  Pant  lenus,  who 
al.sii  piic  iili  il  him  in  office,  may  fairly  be  regarded 
as  iiiilii  aiiiiu  that   he  represents  the  ecclesiastical 
tr.aililiiiii   ai     \li\.iiiilria.     He  was  also  in  living 
ti.ii.h  \Mili  .i|iini.iii  ai  iiihia-  reiitre-.     He  travelled 
ill   Cii.......    \l,i.  ii.i    i.ia  i  la,   s\ri  ,.   and  the  East, 

..\|iii.  U  i.ii  I  li.-  |.iii  i".-i'  iii  i  iilli'ii  iiig  information 
,il I  il'ii'  \|.ii  li.h.  I  i.alii  li.ii.  It!  his  extant  writ- 
Hi.'      hi'    i ■-    \'iiiil     iiiii..     ill    'hi-    h.iir  (iospels, 

ii  .  .iiil-    I  h.aa    .i      |i..     i'     ii        I  .lullinrily,  ami 

Li  \      .•!  i-ai    i'iiiph.i  i .   ,.i:    ■  I  '     .  .  '.  i  i'lice...    hetween 

ihi'iiialMl  iither  wiiliii--  liiiih  .111-  li.  lieC.islicls. 


JOHN,  GOSPEL  OF 


JOHN,  GOSPEL  OF 


tlesdoclared 
he  mentions 
the  name  of 
(iospel  is  a 
'(,  i.e.  a  valid 
f  the  Churcli 
)ecame  a  dis- 


(3)  TertuUian  was  a  famous  theologian  of  the 
Western  Church,  and  was  born  at  C^irthauc  al«Mit 
160.  The  style  of  his  writing  s\i--r>ls  lli;il  hi-  \\,i  , 
trained  as  an  advocate.  Ho  wa>  H'ImiIiiI  ;i  ui.in  ui 
great  learning.  Jerome  speaks  .ii  hi-  '  im;;('i  and 
vehement  disposit ion,"  and  liis  hal>it  of  mind  is  in 
striking   contrast     !<■    ^\\^■    |iliilo-(,|ihie    temper    of 

Clement.     It  is  n Ilo^  In  (|ii.,ic  passa.u'es  from  his 

writings,  as  he  und.nil.irdly  a--uiiii-s  \.ithout  ques- 
tion the  ;^en\iiiii'ni's>  oi  ihc  (;..>|iil.  and  lays  under 
contriliuliiin  r\eiy  rha|i|ir.  I.illle  is  known  of 
his  personal  life.  Iml  hi-  \\a.~  iniainly  in  touch  with 
theological  Dpniioii,  nut  only  at  Cai'thage,  but  also 
at  Kome.  In  the  line  of  argument  that  he  adopts 
in  his  reply  to  Marcion  he  is  concerned  above  all 
else  to  show  that  the  doctrine  of  the  Church  is  in 
line  with  Apostolic  tradition.  He  makes  api)eal  in 
another  writing,  de  Prmscriptiour  Ihii-rticoruni, 
to  the  testimony  of  those  Cliunlies  tliat  were 
founded  by  Apostles,  or  to  whom  \\> 
their  mind  in  letters.  Among  thcs< 
Ephesus,  evidentlv  in  <-.anH'\inn  witi 
St.   John.      His  l.'Tm   lor  ihr   funrln 

legal  tei-m,  Erninj,  Uru  ,,i  Li.il  ,ii,in  III  I 

document  finally  declaring  tlie  mind 
Avith  regard  to  spiritual  (;ruth.  He 
tinguished  leader  of  the  Montanists,  and  would  on 
that  account  be  ])redis[iosed  to  combat  any  olijec 
tion,  if  it  had  been  urged,  .auainst  Ihc  autliciiticil  v 
of  the  Gospel.  ^  At  the  s.unc  limc.  he  i~  n..l.  indif- 
ferent to  questions  of  htcr.ny  crilii'i~ni.  a|i|iliecl  to 
the  Gospels.  In  his  reply  to  .Maicinn  he  makes 
careful  and  scholarly  investigation  into  the  text  of 
St.  Luke,  and  is  able  to  prove  that  iMarcion's  (iospel 
is  a  mutilated  copy. 

(4)  The  Muratorian  Fragment  on  the  Canon. 
— This  fragment  contains  the  earliest  known  list  of 
the  books  that  were  regarded  at  the  date  at  which 
it  was  written  as  canonical.  It  was  published  in 
the  year  1740  by  an  Italian  scholar,  JMuratori. 

Lightfoot,  Westcott,  and  others  argue  for  a  dale  150-175  ;  hut 
Salmon,  Zahn,  and  Harnack  agree  in  jil.aciiig  its  date,  from 
internal  evidence,  not  earlier  than  .\.v\  200.  .Sandav,  in  his 
Gospels  in  the  Second  Centurii  (pji.  26-1-2BU),  suggests  170-lSO, 
and  perhaps  within  ten  years  later.  Stanton,  in  Tli<'  finnpi'In  an 
Historical  Documents  (p.  247,  n.  1),  inclines  to  the  later  date. 

The  writer  gives  an  account  of  the  origin  of  the 
Fourth  Gospel  which  is  pl.ninly  legendary.  The 
important  statenn'nt  in  it  is  tliai    thc(;u,|icl   i^ila- 

work  of  St.  John  {./n/iuiiiir.^  ,  .,■  i/r.;  i/m/,  .i,  w  h. .  i~  ,a  I -. . 

the  author  of  at  least   two  ..t  ihc   l-'pi-l  Ic-,  n,.  ;:iii-: 

epistolis).     The  further  -laicni,  HI    i     i Iclhallic 

resolved  to  write  it  aft  ci    ,  :  i-n   laM.  .in.l 

at  the  request  of  contcnnM,.,  ;  ,  i  h.i  nm-  |, ■,, /,,,,/- 

antihtts  condkcipulis  rl  -  /"      , -   i,  aiai  i  lie  i-on- 

currence  is  also  claimo<l  ot  the  rest  ot  tlie  Apostles 
{rccognowcnfibiif:  eunctis).  The  second  statement 
.seems,  like  the  ypoipiiioi  of  Clement,  to  be  foitnded 
on  Jn  l"  and  •2\-'^,  and  posse.sses  no  independent 
value,  except  as  an  interpretation  of  internal  evi- 
dence. 

The  object  of  the  author  was  clearly  contro- 
versial, '  to  draw  a  broad  line  of  separation  between 
the  ins]iired  writings  of  the  Apostolic  age  and 
modern  addition,-'  (.Salmon,  Introduction,  p.  46). 
He  strongly  protests,  for  example,  against  the  in- 
clusion of  Jfrniiii.K  in  the  Canon,  though  he  has  no 
objection  to  its  being  'read.'  Bacon  (Hibbert 
Journal,  April  1903)  has  interpreted  the  Muratorian 
Fragment  as  indicating  the  existence  of  controversy 
in  the  Church  at  that  date  as  to  the  Aiiostoli('  author- 
ship ;  but  the  empha.sis  on  thai  i|nc-tioii  might 
easily  be  explained  by  the  fact  that  ihe  liiioiicity 
— the  vaWa^Wrecjpifi!  of  the  G(js]icl>  «.in  .ilone  in 
question.  There  is  no  attemi)t  to  /nirminuze  the 
statements  in  the  various  Gospels  ;  but  it  is  sought 
to  secure  for  the  contents  of  the  Fourth  Gospel 
a  place  of  equal  authority  with  the  other  three. 


Throughout  the  Avhole  history  of  the  IS'T  Canon  the 
,adiiii-.-ion  '.f  a  bo.dv  was  not  decided  solely  on  the 

'pn-ii f  auilioiship,  liiit  far  more  on  the  general 

I  oii-iilcr.ii  ion  whcilici  iis  teachiii"  was  congruent 
\vnli  ilic>  1,  ,  ri\.il  dortrine  of  the  Church.  Salmon 
think-  I  liai  I  1m'  \m  Iter  of  the  Muratorian  Fragment 
is  ar;:n]ii;j  aj.nn-t  the  Montanists,  and  Zahn  and 
Dnuiiiiion.l  ih.ii  he  is  opposing  the  Alogi  (see 
belo«  !.  Ihc  Icj.ndary  account  of  the  origin  of 
the  (lo-pcl  ^^oula  -ccni'to  indicate  that  the  fact  of 
the  Aposloli,-  anlhoi-liip  was  .already  well  estab- 
lisheil  .ami  well  known.  \n  adilitional  confirma- 
tion of  the  \  icw  that  Ihe  historic-ity  alone  is  within 
the  purview  of  the  writer  is  that  the  words  of  the 
Fir-st  Epistle  (it  is  true  in  a  somewhat  inaccurate 
rendering),  '  What  we  have  seen  with  our  eyes,  and 
heard  witli  our  ears,  and  our  hands  have  handled, 
these  things  we  lia\-e  written'  {hwc  scripsimus),  are 
quoted  as  a  reference  by  the  author  to  his  Gospel. 
(5)  Theophilus,  bishop  of  Antioch  (c.  A.D.  180), 
■  er  works,  a  defence  of  Christi- 
I  .Vniolyi  us,  'a  real  or  imaginary 
"i>lc  liMiiiing  and  high  culture' 
ilic  cailiest  writer  of  the  2nd 
1 1  noting  a  passage  from  the 
■til-  to  St.  John  byname.  His 
!■  t.aiiglii  liy  the  Holy  Scriptures 
ling  men,  among  whom  John 
oilow  verbatim  quotations  from 
le  Gospel.  There  are  also  other 
a  k  that  recall  the  Fourth  Gospel. 
o,  as  belying  any  aiipearance  of 
the  autliorship  of  ilic  fiospel, 
the  name  of  Si .  .lohn  in  iliis  ijuite 
italics  on  the  I  lospels 
mt  their  i^enuineness, 
y  Harnack.  This  part 
lit  be  set  aside. 
works  of  Justin  that 
I  are  the  two  Apologies 
I,  llir  .1,1,:  They  may 
Ills  All.  I  lii-lUl.  Palestine 
m1  he  w.i-  l.iouglit  up  in  the 
who  w  as  a  heathen.  He  was 
philosophy,  and  after  an  un- 
of  various  teachers  he  ulti- 
tonist.  After  his  conversion 
ich  he  i^ives  a  full  account  ill 
v,;i-  kiiallcd  with  love  to 
■d  lii-  iiliilosopliic  attainments 


hoiiiics  lo  w  liirli  .lustin  refers  in 
wiiiiii,:js.   he  'ji\cs  an  important 

iis  oi  (  liiisi.  composed  by  the 

ewho  p.llowc.l  ihcni.^  The  battle 
age-  aioiniil  flic  . | nestion  whether 

III    ihcsc    ,Mc IIS  only  the  four 

I  now.  ,(i  Ic.i-i.  he  regarded  as 
all  ckis-c-  ot  critics  that  Justin 
ic  (.os].cl  ici,  S(  hmiedel,  Eneyc. 
,Soii  oi  Zchcilcc,-  ii.  2546).  It  is 
ailiiiiilcil  Ihal  he  includes  it 
Is  oi  ihc  \].o-iles.  Those,  how- 
i.ai  ,lii-iiii  tcg.ir.l.al  the  Gospel  as 
\po,ili'  aic  laid  under  the  neces- 
.;  lio»  111-  roniiaiiporary  Irenajus 
ed   that   the  Cospel  is  a  genuine 

—The  locus  classicus  in  Justin  is 
ptism  (Apol.  I.  Ixi. ).  He  describes 
e  about  to  make  a  Christian  pro- 


anity,  addn 
heathen  fri. 
(Wat  kins), 
cent.,    who 


controversy  as  to 
that  he  introduces 
incidental  fashion.  Comme 
are  also  attributed  to  him, 
upheld  by  Zahn,  is  assailed  1 
ot  his  evidence  must  at  prese 
2.  Justin  Martyr.— The 
are  relevant  in  this  coiinexioi 
and  the  hinJiKiiir  inlli  Tnjiil 


Go.spcls.  11  ,,,; 
settled  aniongsl 
makes  use  of  i 
Bihl.,  art.  -John 
not  so  generall; 
among  his  Mem.' 
ever,  who  deny  I 
the  work  of  tic- 
sity  of  explainii 
could  be  so  assi 
Apostolic  work. 
(1)  Quotations 
the  passage  on  B 
how  those  who  a 


where  there  is  water,  and  are  born  again 
ill  which  we  our-sel\fs  are  born  again.     For 

I  liiia     ci'l  -r  Mm    N..t\   Spirit,  they  then 
'  !i      '!■  '      I  .  I  '  ;  I    !  ;iNo  said,  *'  Except 


JOHN,  GOSPEL  OF 


JOHX,  GOSPEL  OF 


This  passage  immediately  recalls  Jn  3'-'.  The 
language,  however,  reveals  some  striking  variations 
from  the  text  of  the  Gospel.  No  one  would  now 
endorse  the  verdict  of  tlie  author  of  Supernatural 
Religion,  that '  there  does  not  exist  a  single  linguistic 
trace  by  wliicli  the  passage  in  Justin  can  be  con- 
nected with  the  Fourth  Gospel.'  It  may  be  con- 
ceded that  some  of  his  expres.sions  have  more  than 
an  accidental  relationship  with  Mt  18'.  Justin 
certainly  uses  avayevinieriTe  ('bom  again')  instead 
of  yenvijerj  ivuScv  ('  bom  from  above ')  of  the  Fourth 
Gospel,  but  this  variation  is  at  least  a  possible 
rendering  of  the  Johannine  expression.  There  are, 
however,  other  linguistic  difl'erences.  The  difficulty 
is  increased  by  the  discovery  that  in  the  Clementine 
Homilies  (xi.  26)  there  is  a  passage  containing  similar 
linguistic  deviations  from  the  Gospel.  Has  their 
author  copied  Justin,  or  does  the  similarity  point 
to  the  use  by  both  of  a  common  source  other  than 
the  Gospel  ?  The  fact  that  the  context  in  each  is 
quite  different  excludes  the  first  hypothesis,  and  the 
second  may  well  be  ^^ewed  as  improl>able,  imtil  the 
alleged  common  source — that  '  ghost-like '  Gospel  of 
which  Volkmar  speaks — has  emerged  from  the  place 
of  shades,  and  embodied  itself  in  a  MS  (cf.  Drum- 
mond,  Character  and  Authorship,  pp.  88-96). 

It  ought  to  be  sufficient  to  establish  the  hi^h 
probability,  amounting  to  certainty,  that  Justin 
quotes  Jn  3^"',  that,  giving  due  weight  to  linguistic 
differences,  the  Fourth  Gospel  is  the  only  source 
known  to  us  from  which  he  could  have  derived 
such  ideas.  Tlie  idea  of  birth  as  applied  to  spiritual 
change  is  found  in  none  of  the  Gospels  but  St. 
John  ;  and  it  is  significant  that  both  Justin  and 
St.  John  exjjressly  connected  this  thought  with  the 
rite  of  Baptism.  As  regards  the  impossibility  of  a 
second  physical  birth,  it  is  to  be  noted  that  this 
somewhat  -wistful,  and,  at  the  same  time,  wilfully 
absurd,  objection  of  Nicodemus — which  in  theGospel 
is  the  symptom  of  a  heart  profoundly  moved,  and 
has  a  living  place  in  the  context — is  prosaically 
reproduced  by  Justin.  This  is  evidently  the  result 
of  a  familiar  association  of  ideas  derived  from  the 
passage  in  Jn  3.  The  words,  '  for  Christ  also  said,' 
introduce  the  quotation,  and  the  document  from 
which  it  is  taken  is  clearly  looked  upon  as  an 
authoritative  source  for  the  words  of  Christ. 

Justin  has  other  correspondences  witli  the  pecu- 
liar thpught  of  the  Fourth  Gospel.  He  uses  the 
title  /lovoyey-fis  of  Christ,  and  in  the  next  sentence 
speaks  of  the  Virgin-Birth  {Dialogice  105),  adding 
the  words,  '  as  we  Iiave  learned  from  the  Memoirs.' 
This  seems  to  point  to  a  combination  of  St.  John 
and  the  Synoptics.  Justin  has  also  made  much  use 
of  the  thought  of  the  Logos  Gospel  in  his  doctrine 
of  tlie  Logos,  and  his  teaching  on  that  .subject  is 
influenced  by  the  theology  of  the  Gospel.  It  is 
.sometimes  urged  as  an  objection  that  Justin  does 
not  make  more  use  of  the  authority  of  the  Gospel 
in  his  teaching  about  the  Logos,  but  this  is  to  pre- 
suppose that  the  thought  was  first  suggested  to  him 
by  that  .source.  Justin's  philosophy  is  filled  with 
Alexandrine  ideas,  but  the  thought  of  the  Incarna- 
tion of  the  Logos  of  which  Justin  makes  use  is  found 
only  in  St  T.lni  '.  (/><,/.  i.  32).  The  Johannine  ex- 
press!.n  11 V  also  found  in  Ju.stin. 


On  t 

'  •    '■  rrlationship  between  Justin  and  the 
■  /'M-.  discovered  in  1802,  see  Hivstings' 

TlK-  .1 

Justin' 
Pel.r  -. 

''     ■ 

r^u 

lid  Uariiack  ( 

1"    1 1   ..iin.nt  Willi.--..     Th.'. !:...■., (the 

c-  1  III.13U  by  iMsy  {,Le^^^^atrinnc  KraiuiHe, 
Chruu.  i.  633). 

(2)  .fff.s  «?c  o/</ic  Go.?»(?.— Another  consideration 
is  adduced  to  prove  that  Justin  did  not  regard 


the  Gospel  as  an  authority  on  the  same  level  as  the 
Synoptics,  and  therefore  viewed  it  as  non-Apostolic. 
Schmiedel  (Encyc.Bibl.,  art.  '  Jolm,  Son  of  Zebedee,' 
ii.  2546)  states  that  '  his  employment  of  it  is  not 
only  more  sparing  but  also  more  circumspect '  than 
his  use  of  tne  Synoptics.  There  are  occasions  on 
wliich  it  would  be  open  to  him  to  use  it  in  proof  of 
his  doctrine  of  the  Logos  and  of  the  pre-existence 
of  Christ.  Why  has  Justin  not  used  the  Fourth 
tiospel  more  ?  It  is  perfectly  relevant  to  reply 
that  we  do  not  know,  and  perhaps  never  shall 
know,  with  complete  certainty.  At  the  same  time, 
there  are  certain  considerations  that  ought  to  be 
borne  in  mind.  Justin  is  certainly  the  first  writer 
who  displays  the  tendency  to  attach  a  separate 
value  to  the  four  Gospels  ;  he  is  the  first  to  speak  of 
(vayyiXia  instead  of  tvaYt^iov  ;  but  he  can  scarcely 
be  expected  to  have  completely  emancipated  him- 
self, at  this  transition  stage,  from  the  older  concep- 
tion of  the  gospel  as  embracing  equally  the  contents 
of  the  four.  Justin's  purpose  and  his  audience  must 
be  borne  in  mind,  and  these  would  insensibly  lead 
him  to  rely  mostly  on  the  SynuptiL  Cusjicls.  It  is 
specially  noticeable  that  the  witness  of  Christ  to 
Himself,  so  prominent  in  the  Fourth  Gospel,  is  no- 
where used  liy  .Justin  as  an  argument,  and  in  one 
place  in  the  iJinlogur  u-ifh  Trypho  (ch.  18)  he  even 
apologizes  for  citing  tlie  words  of  Christ  alongside 
the  words  of  the  prophets.  His  Apologies  are  ad- 
dressed to  the  Emperor,  Senate,  and  People  of  Rome, 
and  to  quote  to  them  the  Christian  writings  in  proof 
of  Christian  doctrine  would  have  been  to  reason  in 
a  circle.  Moreover,  it  may  be  suggested  that  not 
even  at  that  date  was  the  Gospel  regarded  as,  strictly 
sneaking,  historical,  and  its  spiritual  or  reflective 
character  rendered  it  hardly  so  suitable  for  Justin's 
purpose  as  the  Synoptics. 

(3)  Evidence  as  to  Apostolic  authorship. — Is  there 
any  evidence  in  Justin  that  he  attributed  the  author- 
ship to  St.  John  the  Apostle  ?  In  the  first  place,  if 
the  Memoirs  are  composed  of  our  four  Gospels,  we 
may  answer  the  question  with  certainty  in  the 
affirmative.  Justin  describes  them  as  composed  by 
'  the  Apostles  and  those  that  followed  them,'  a 
description  which  tallies  completely  with  the  four 
Evangelists.  The  plural  '  Apostles '  could  be  used 
only  if  he  believed  in  the  Apostolic  authorship  of 
the  Fourth  Gospel.  Again,  the  strongest  argument 
adduced  against  Justin's  evidence  is  still  the  argu- 
ment from  his  silence  as  to  the  name  of  the  author. 
It  seems,  however,  to  have  been  the  custom  among 
apologists  not  to  mention  the  Evangelists  by  their 
names,  which  would  carry  no  weight  -with  un- 
believers. Moreover,  it  has  been  pointed  out  that 
Justin  never  mentions  the  name  of  St.  Paul,  al- 
thougli  it  is  (  ertain  that  at  least  four  of  his  Epistles 
from  wlucli  lu'  cinutes  are  of  undoubted  authenticity. 
Justin  (ince  nuiiic s  St.  John  as  the  author  of  Reve- 
lation (Dialogue  Si),  but  'lie  nowhere  quotes  this 
work,  wliicli  he  regarded  as  inspired,  apostolic, 
prophetic,  though  it  contains  so  much  which  might 
seem  to  favour  his  view  of  the  person  of  Chnst' 
(Ezra  Abbot,  p.  61).  In  the  passage  he  speaks  of 
the  author  as  one  whose  name  is  not  likely  to  carry 
weight  ('a  certain  man  with  us,  whose  name  was 
John '),  but  it  is  essential  to  his  argument,  in  thus 
making  use  of  a  Revelation  or  \ision,  that  he 
should  mention  the  recipient.  (Cf.  Stanton,  Gospels 
as  Historical  Documents,  i.  p.  89). 

3.  Tatlan  was  a  native  of  Syria,  and,  like  Justin, 
travelled  as  a  wandering  philosopher.  His  con- 
version to  Christianity  took  place  at  Rome  about 
.\.D.  150.  He  became  a  disciple  of  Justin,  during 
wliose  lifetime  he  wrote  the  Oratio  ad  Grcecos. 
After  Justin's  death  in  166,  Tatian  taught  in  Rome, 
and  ultimately  adopted  a  heretical  jjosition.  He 
died  about  .\.D.  180. 

Tatian  clearly  quotes  the  Gospel  in  his  Oratio, 


JOHX,  GOSPEL  OF 


JOHN,  GOSPEL  OF 


which  was  written  perhaps  as  early  as  lo3  (so  Zahu 
and  Harnack),  although  he  does  not  refer  to  the 
author  by  name.  The  important  work,  however, 
for  our  purpose  is  the  Diatcssaron.  It  is  a  com- 
pendium of  the  Life  and  Teaching  of  our  Lord, 
founded  on  our  four  Gospels,  and  containing  also 
some  material  taken  from  the  Apocryphal  Gospels. 
The  book  hatl  apparently  an  ancient  place  in  the 
worship  of  the  Syrian  Churches.  Theodoret,  bishop 
of  Cyrrhus,  near  the  Euphrates,  in  453,  tells  how 
he  found  more  than  200  copies  of  the  work  in  the 
churches  of  his  district.  These  he  collected  and, 
with  considerable  difficulty,  put  away,  substituting 
for  them  the/oier  Gospels. 

The  Diatcssaron  includes  the  whole  of  the  Fourth 
Gospel,  except  V,  the  first  half  of  2=^,  the  Pcricojje 
Adulterce,  and  some  other  passages  that  are  common 
to  the  Synoptics. 

The  .significance  of  Tatian's  work  lies  in  the  fact 
that  an  authoritative  value  is  attached  to  the  con- 
tents of  our  four  Gospels,  and  that  the  Fourth 
Gospel  is  placed  on  a  level  with  the  Synoptics. 
Moreover,  Tatian's  use  of  the  Fourth  Gospel 
renders  it  very  difficult  to  doubt  that  it  was  also 
one  of  the  Memoirs  of  his  contemporary,  Justin. 

4.  The  Apostolic  Fathers.— (1)  Papias  was  bishop 
of  Hierapolis  in  Phrygia.  Unfortunately  his  testi- 
mony has  given  rise  to  more  questions  about  the 
Gospel  than  it  solves.  Only  one  or  two  fragments 
of  his  work  preserved  by  Eusebius  have  come  down 
to  us.  We  know  that  in  the  time  of  Eusebius 
the  only  writing  of  Papias  to  which  he  had  access 
was  a  work  in  five  books,  entitled  '  Exposition(s)  of 
the  Oracles  of  the  Lord '  (Ao7i«i'  KvpiaKdv  i^-qytjiri.^ 
[or  -ets]).     Cf.  Drummond,  op.  rit.  note  4,  p.  195. 

The  '  Oracles '  were  probably  a  collection  of 
sayings  of  our  Lord,  together  with  some  kind  of 
historical  setting. 

There  is  a  tendency  amon^  modern  critics  to  fix  a  later  date 
than  formerly  for  the  writmgs  of  Papias.  His  WTitten  work 
seems  not  to  have  been  produced  till  about  the  age  of  sixty. 
The  change  in  the  date  is  owing  to  the  discovery  of  a  fragment, 
purporting  to  contain  statements  by  Papias,  that  was  published 
by  De  Boor  in  1888.  It  dates  from  the  7th  or  8th  cent.,  and  is 
in  tum  probably  based  on  the  Chronicle  of  Philip  of  SMi^c. 
A.D.  430).  Amon^  other  matters  it  relates  that  those  individuals 
who  had  been  raised  from  the  dead  by  Christ  survived  '  till  the 
time  of  Hadrian.'  Hadrian  reigned  117-138,  which  compels  us 
to  fix  a  date  for  Papias'  work  not  earlier  than  140-160  (so  Har- 
nack, Drummond,  and  Schmicdel.  Sanday  in  his  most  recent 
work.  The  Criticism  of  the  Fourth  Gospel,  includes  ,the  date  of 
Papias  among  the  '  unsolved  problems ').  The  date  of  his  mar- 
tyrdom is  also  very  uncertain. 

Eusebius  says  that  Papias  '  evidently  was  a  man 
of  very  mean  capacity,  as  one  may  say,  judging 
from  liis  statements '  (HE  \\\.  39).  This  judgment 
must  be  considered  strictly  in  connexion  with  the 
context.  Eusebius  is  speakinjj  of  his  millenarian 
notions,  and  of  the  unimaginative  way  in  which  he 
interpreted  the  figurative  language  of  the  Apostolic 
writings.  These  defects  do  not  reflect  on  his  accu- 
racy in  matters  of  fact,  but  rather  indicate  a  literal - 
ness  and  exactness  which  may  at  times  be  painful, 
but  are  yet  a  source  of  strength  in  the  present  dis- 


(i. )  Papias  is  best  known  by  the  famous  extract 
from  the  Preface  to  his  work  which  is  preserved  by 
Eusebius : 

'  I  will  not  hesitate  to  place  before  vou,  alonf;  with  niv  inter- 
pretations (of  the  Oracles  of  the  Lord),  everything  that  1  care- 
fully learned,  and  carefully  remembered  in  time  past  from  the 
elders,  and  I  can  guarantee  its  truth.  For  1  take  no  pleasure, 
as  do  the  many,  in  those  who  have  so  very  nnmh  to  say,  but  in 
those  who  teach  the  truth  :  nor  in  those  who  relate  command- 
ments foreign  (to  the  mind  of  the  Lord),  but  in  those  (wbo 
record)  such  as  were  given  to  the  faith  by  the  Lord,  and  found 
on  the  truth  itself.  Moreover,  if  I  met  with  anyone  on  aiij 
occasion  who  had  attended  the  elders,  I  used  to  inquire  alxml, 
the  words  of  the  elders ;  what  Andrew  or  what  Peter  said,  or 
what  Philip,  or  what  Thomas,  or  James  or  .John  or  Matthew,  or 
any  other  of  the  disciples  of  the  Lord  said,  and  what  Aristion 
and  the  elder  John,  disciples  of  the  Lord,  say.  For  I  was  not 
inclined  to  suppose  that  statements  made  by  the  books  would 


much  as  the  utterances  i 


ng  and  abiding 


Several  questions  of  moment  are  raised  by  these 
words  of  Papias. 

(a)  Wlio  are  the  elders  or  presbyters  of  whom,  he 
speaks  ? — They  clearly  include  the  Apostles  them- 
selves, and  Papias  derives  his  information  from 
their  friends,  i.e.  those  who  not  merely  'had  fol- 
lowed them  '  in  the  literal  sense,  but  had  '  attended 
to'  {Trapi]Ko\overiKuis)  their  words.  He  is  in  search 
of  direct  oral  tradition  about  the  '  Oracles.'  At 
the  same  time  he  mentions  two,  Aristion  and 
John,  who  are  not  Apostles,  and  whom  he  regards 
as  'presbyters'  or  elders.  He  also  designates 
the  whole  group  as  'disciples  of  the  Lord.'  In  the 
case  of  Aristion  and  the  Presbyter  John,  ol  /ioflijTai 
is  found  only  in  one  ]MS,  and  the  preferable  reading 
is  to  omit  the  article.  In  the  first  case,  the  use  of  the 
article  with  nadrjrCiv  means  '  the  disciples  '  specially 
known  as  such,  and  the  key  to  the  use  of  the  term 
'  disciple '  in  the  second  case,  is  found  in  the  state- 
ment of  Ac  6',  where  all  those  who  were  mem- 
bers of  the  first  Christian  community  are  called 
'disciples.'  The  'Elders,'  then,  .signify  all  those 
men  who  were  members  of  the  [primitive  Christian 
Church  who  may  or  may  not  have  followed  the 
Lord  Himself. 

Irenseus  has  said  that  Papias  was  '  a  hearer  of  John,'  by  whom 
he  evidently  means  the  Apostle.  This  would  place  him  in  im- 
mediate contact  with  the  Apostolic  circle.  If,  however,  we  are  to 
rely  only  on  the  statements  in  the  Preface,  it  is  plain  that  Eusebius 
must  be  right  when,  in  opposition  to  Irenseus,  he  says  that 
*  Papias  certainly  does  not  declare  that  he  himself  was  a  hearer 
and  eye-witness  to  the  holy  Apostles.'  Yet  even  with  the  later 
date  assigned  to  Papias,  there  is  no  chronological  impossibility 
in  his  having  known  the  Apostle ;  and  it  must  not  be  forgotten 
that  Irenffius  was  not  necessarily  dependent  solely  on  the  words 
of  the  Preface,  but  may  have  had  other  statements  of  Papias, 
or  the  living  tradition  of  the  Church,  on  which  to  found  his 
assertion.  If  the  position  has  to  be  surrendered  that  Papias 
was  a  'hearer  of  John,' it  is  at  least  certain  that  he  put  him- 
self in  the  most  favourable  position  to  hear  clearlj'  '  the  living 
and  abiding  voice '  of  Apostolic  times,  conveyed  to  him  through 
the  '  friends '  of  the  Elders. 

(S)  What  can  we  determine  regarding  the  nature 
and  purpose  of  the  work  of  Papias? — He  contrasts 
his  sources  with  '  those  who  have  so  very  much  to 
say '  (rois  to  TroXXd  Xiyomiv),  with  '  those  who  relate 
commandments  foreign  to  the  mind  of  the  Lord '  (tois 
rds  dWoTplas  evroXas  livij/j.ovivoiKni')  and  with  '  the 
contents  of  the  books '  (to.  (k  twv  fSip\lai>).  '  The 
books'  which  he  mentions  have  been  interpreted 
as  meaning  some  form  of  '  the  Gospels '  (Jlilicher, 
Introd.,  Eng.  tr.  p.  487),  and  also  as  'writings  of 
Aristion  and  the  Elder  John '  (Drummond  and 
Bacon).  In  regard  to  the  former  interpretation, 
it  seems  out  of  the  question  that  Papias  should 
oppose  '  the  living  and  abiding  voice '  to  the 
sources  of  his  Logia.  On  the  other  hand,  it  is 
hardly  likely  that  Papias  would  minimize  the  value 
of  the  oral  evidence  of  Aristion  and  the  Presbyter 
John  by  disparaging  their  written  work.  The 
simplest  explan.-ition  is  that  given  by  Lightfoot 
(followed  by  Srhwarz.  /  '.'"/■  den  Tod  der  Sbhne 
Zebedmi,  p.  11),  th.it  the  rxi'getical  commentaries 
on  the  Gospels  written  by  Gnostics  like  Basilides 
are  meant.  It  is  to  these  also  that  he  refers  when 
he  speaks  of  '  foreign  commandments '  and  of  '  those 
who  have  so  very  much  to  say.'  Papias  himself 
seems  to  have  been  a  commentator  on  the  '  Oracles 
of  the  Lord,'  and  seeks  to  support  his  own  ex- 
planations (f fTjyiJffeis)  by  direct  oral  tradition  from 
those  who  were  in  touch  with  the  first  Christian 
cimimunity. 

{<■)  ]Vlii!i  /".,///'.»  docs  the  Presbyter  Johnhold  in 
l',il, ills'  rii'ir  It  is  noticeable  that  while  the  past 
li'iisp  'siii.l  (eiTTfc)  is  used  of  the  first  group  of 
Ajiostles,  as  though  they  were  dead  at  the  time  of 
writing,  the  present  tense  'say'  {Xiyovaiv)  is  used 
of  Aristion  and  the  Presbyter  John.  The  entirely 
unconvincing  explanation  of  Lightfoot,  that  the 


John,  gospel  of 


JOHN,  gospel  of 


tense  should  probably  be  regaiiled  as  an  historic 
present,  introduced  '  for  the  sake  of  variety,'  must 
be  rejected.  On  the  other  hand,  the  present  tense 
seems  rather  meagre  evidence  on  which  to  rear  the 
liypothesis  that  books  written  by  these  two  men 
were  before  Papias  (so  Drummond,  Character  and 
Authorship,  p.  200),  especially  as  he  distinctly 
tells  us  that  it  is  oral  eWdence  of  w-hich  he  is  in 
search.  There  is  eWdence  in  the  writing  of  Papias 
that  some  literary  productions  of  these  men  were 
extant,  but  the  intention  of  Papias  in  his  Preface 
seems  to  be  to  convey  the  impression  that  they 
were  alive  at  the  time  he  -ivrote.  Papias  had 
begun,  at  a  much  earlier  time  ('in  time  past'),  to 
coflect  information  from  the  elders,  and  had  gone 
on  doing  so  up  to  the  time  of  writin".  He  means 
that  Aii^tion  and  .Inhn  are  still  available  for  any- 
one wlio  \vi~h.-  to  rheck  the  authority  of  the  ex- 

Thc  f(iii'.;iiiim  establishes  the  reality  of  the  second 
John.  It  is  no  longer  possible  to  regard  the  exist- 
ence of  the  Presbyter  'as  due  to  a  confusion  of 
Eusebius,'  or  to  accuse  Papias  of  '  slovenliness  of 
composition,'  which  would  lead  us  to  suppose  that 
two  Johns  are  mentioned,  while  all  the  time  he  is 
only  referring  to  the  same  man  a  second  time.  The 
question  Ls  debated  by  modern  critics  whether  this 
Presbyter  John  has  any  connexion  with  the  author- 
ship of  the  Gospel.  It  is  necessary  only  to  indicate 
the  grounds  on  which  the  suggestion  is  based. 
Eusebius,  in  the  passage  from  which  we  have 
quoted  {HE  iii.  39),  suggests  that  he  is  the  author 
of  Revelation.  He  controverts  the  statement  of 
Irenteus  that  Papias  means  to  be  looked  upon  as  a 
hearer  of  the  Apostle  John,  and  gathers  from  the 
use  of  the  present  tense  (\iy  vaiv)  that  he  is  really  a 
hearer  of  Aristion  and  the  Elder  John.  We  ha^■e 
seen  that  in  the  time  of  Papias  these  two  men  were 
still  alive,  but  the  evidence  as  to  his  relationship 
witli  thiMu  ratli.T  Mi,--'-st.-  that  he  had  ii..t  himself 
met  thiMii.  rapia-  -rrni-  ti.  liava  had  li.  collect 
inforiuation  ali'ial  \\\\.o  ihcy  ■  say.'  and  I-aisebius 
himselt'  |iur-~  fiiw  iiil  hi-  -tarciiiiait  aliniu  an  oral 
relatinii-lii|i  ui.'irU-  a~  a  ~uu-r-ii"iL  ll  .Iocs  not 
foIloNV  that  lai-rl.iu-.  m  allril.uiiirj  i  la.  a  uthorship 
of  Rcv..|ati.,n  1..  ill..  riv-l.vi.T.  .■^..n  I. nits  at  the 
idea  that  he  isaU..  the  auth..r  ..t  t  h.- (  a.spel.  He 
may  have  regarded  it  as  an  advantage  to  assign 
another  authorship  to  the  book,  that  the  Apostle 
John  might  not  be  held  responsible  for  the  millen- 
arian  ideas  of  Papias.  Papias  accords  the  Presbyter 
no  special  place  of  honour  in  his  list,  and  indeed 
places  him  last,  after  Aristion.  If  Papias  had 
recorded  anything  of  importance  about  him,  no 
doubt  Eusebius  would  have  noted  it,  in  order  to 
support  his  view  of  the  authorship  of  Revelation. 
See  also  artt.  Ari.stion  and  Papias. 

(ii.)  We  have  next  to  inquire  irhcther  tliere  is 
any  evidence  In  the  writing  of  Papias  that  he  used 
the  Fourth  Gospel,  (a)  A  passage  occius  in  the 
wTitings  of  Irenieus  which  contains  a  quotation  of 
Jn  14=  '  Our  Lord  has  said,  that  in  the  alx>de  of  my 
Father  are  many  mansions.'  The  passage  is  intro- 
duced, like  many  others  in  Irenieus,  as  a  quotation 
from  the  words  of  'the  Elders.'  Is  Irentpus  here 
quoting  from  tlu;  sayings  of  '  the  Elders '  as  re- 
ported by  Papias  ?  By  the  way  in  which  the 
Johannine  quotation  is  prefaced,  it  is  fair  to  sup- 
pose that  '  the  Elders '  are  here  referring  to  a 
written  record,  and  not  reproducing  merely  oral 
tradition,  and  that  some  well-known  and  accepted 
source  for  the  words  of  our  Lord  is  meant. 


An  additional  conflnnati. 
quotes  verbatim  from  tho  I' 
portion  of  his  work.  H(  i 
earth  at  the  millennium.  .. 
vines  with  ten  thousand  a 
from  '  the  Elders  who  s.iv\ 
.\fter  quoting  the  passage,  \ 


po^.t 


til. -'    : .'     ill    Aini'i.;,'      I[.rn;ick  contends  that  the  words 

'.tK  .!  J     ^  ..     ,.,_'■    'certainly  ought  not  to  be 

jM.  :  :;:!     I  ,.  IS  giving  a  contirmation  from 

iii.li.  .;.  111.  i.iia.).  -,,11.  .  11,111  which  he  takes  them.  (This 
positi.in  Is  stoutly  opp.:>se<t  iiy  Sclimiedel,  op,  cit.  ii.  2549,  where 
see  a  statement  of  the  whole  controversy  and  its  issues). 

If  Papias  quotes  14=  we  have  here  an  important 
clue  to  an  early  date  for  the  Gospel.  The  Elders 
of  Papias  belonged  to  the  eariy  Christian  com- 
munity. 

(b)  There  are  indications  in  the  Preface  of  Papias 
that  the  Gospel  permeates  his  thought,  and  that 
the  references  would  be  apparent  to  his  readers. 
He  speaks  of  'those  who  teach  the  truth'  (t-ois 
Ta.\r]Bfi  SiBdffKovinv),  and  he  also  applies  the  term 
'  the  Truth '  to  Christ.  It  is  also  not  without  signi- 
ficance that  St.  Andrew  and  St.  Peter  and  St. 
Philip  are  named  in  the  exact  order  in  which  the 
names  occur  in  the  first  chapter  of  St.  John,  while 
St.  Philip  and  St.  Thomas  are  prominent  only  in 
the  Fourth  Gospel. 

(c)  Eusebius  {HE  iii.  39)  says  that  '  Papias  has 
used  testiriionies  from  the  former  Epistle  of  John 
and  from  that  of  Peter  similarly.'  If  1  John  and 
the  Gospel  are  by  the  same  author,  we  have  here 
additional  confirmation  that  Papias  knew  and  used 
the  Fourth  Gospel.  This  item  of  evidence,  how- 
ever, can  have  weight  only  in  connexion  with  the 
rest  of  the  evidence.  Formerly  the  fact  that  Euse- 
bius, wliile  mentioning  his  use  of  the  Epistle,  is 
silent  as  to  any  use  of  the  Gospel  by  Papias,  was 
relied  upon  as  a  strong  argument  for  the  non- 
existence of  the  Gospel  before  160-170  {e.g.  in 
Supernatural  Religion).  After  Lightfoot's  com- 
plete answer  to  this  position  {Essai/s  on  Super- 
natural Religion,  ii.),  it  is  not  now  possible  to 
deny  a  much  earlier  date  for  the  Gospel.  Modern 
opponents  of  the  traditional  view  now  rely  on  the 
argument  from  the  silence  of  Eusebius,  as  proving 
that  Papias  nowhere  appeals  to  the  Gospel  as  of 
Apostolic  authority  (e.g.  Bacon).  It  is  therefore 
necessary  to  examine  anything  in  Papias  which 
seems  to  indicate  that  he  regarded  the  Gospel  as 
the  work  of  St.  John  the  Apostle. 

(iii.)  The.  evidence  of  Papias  as  to  the  authorship 
of  the,  (kisiieL~~{a)  Eusebms,  in  the  often  quoted 
passau'c,  stiys  that  Papias  distinguishes  the  Pres- 
Ijytrr  .loliii  from  John  the  Apostle,  'evidently 
nieaIlill.^  the  Evangelist.'  The  words  in  inverted 
commas  would  seem  to  j^oint  to  some  indication 
that  Eusebius  found  in  Papias'  writing  that  he 
spoke  of  St.  John  the  Apostle  as  the  Evangelist. 
To  this  may  be  added  the  naming  of  St.  John 
immediately  after  the  Evangelist  St.  Matthew  in 
the  Preface. 

(b)  A  Vatican  MS  of  the  9th  cent,  contains  the 
statement :  '  Evangelium  .Johannis  manifestatum 
et  datum  est  ecclcsiis  nh  .lolianne  adhuc  in  cor- 
pore  constitute:  si.  ut  Tajiias  nomine  Hierapoli- 
tanus,  discipulus  .loh.inni-  .aiiis,  in  exotericis— id 
est  in  extremis— quin.|nc  liliris  retulit.  Descripsit 
vero  evangelium  dictante  .lohanne  rect«.'  The 
words  are  part  of  a  translation  of  an  early  Greek 
argumentum  or  proof  that  the  Gospel  was  written 
by  John  the  Apostle.  As  the  passage  stands,  the 
words  exotericis  and  cxtnini^  are  unintelligible, 
and  the  conjecture  of  Ligliii....!  may  !..■  accepted 
that  the  former  should  read  ■  .  r  '-  -  an. I  rrtremis 
should  read  externis,  which  wa-  an  .'Xilanation  of 
the  false  reading  exotericis.  Again,  it  is  nonsense 
to  say  that  the  Gospel  was  published  '  by  John 
while  he  was  yet  alive ' :  and  Hamack  suggests 
iChrnn.  i.  r)r)."))"that  the  preposition  ab  .should  be 
.1.  let...l.  With  tics.-  <liaiii,'es  it  is  possible  to  make 
,  I,  .■  ..1  111..  \\..r.U.  I'll.,  -t.itement  '  Johanne  adhuc 
111  .  ..I  |...i..  .  ..ii~tituto  \\..iild  then  imply  that  there 
\\.i.saii  interval  between  tile  writing  and  the  pub- 


JOHN,  GOSPEL  OF 


JOHN,  GOSPEL  OF 


lication  of 
This  w.ml. 
sary  to  sa' 


mm.  U  IS  si 


ispel,  and  has  reference  to  Jn  21-^. 
ill  «  liy  Fapias  had  found  it  neces- 
(hr  (H.spelwas  published  'in  the 
>n--l  Ir.  The  statement  at  the  end, 
■  I  111-  t  H.sjiel  at  the  dictation  of  St. 
Ill'  si'l  .i-iilc.  .\l  the  same  time, 
iirl  lli.'il  ii  i-  ii.Ti-~ai-yso  to  edit 
ryi-  ;iri-  -I'liiiu^   liitlii-iiitics  in  the 


Kiisclii 


!-lltl 


.Mil 


.tliin.i; 


1  Jerusa- 


siniuar  statements  lit  liiswilli  n-uanl  tu  ^ 
and  St.  Mark.  Moreover,  in  vu-w  of 
questionoftlie Presbyter  aiil  111 ii'slii] I,  tlir 

to  indicate  which  John  is  anl.     (I'u 

of  the  alleged  statement  "t  I'lijiias  i 
Philip  of  Side,  that  John  <lieil  a  marty 
lem,  see  art.  John  [the  Apostle]). 

If  the  direct  testimony  of  Papias  must  be  regarded 
as  inconclusive,  it  may  fairly  be  asked  whether  we 
have  a  rij;ht  In  rxpiM-t  iiimv.  Tlii-rc  is  a  very  high 
probabilitv  llial  iIh'  (iii-^in'l  wa-  .nn- nf  1  he  sources 
of  the  •(■|ni,-|,..  ■  „l„rli  111-  .■x|i.ii,i„li-,l.  and  his 
silence  as  tu  tin-  .•inlliiir.  mi  lai  In  mi  ili^piaying  any 
uncertainty  on  tin-  i|iiisl  imi,  mny  quite  as  easily 
be  interpreted  as  nn-aiiiiii;  ih.it  the  per.sonality  of 
St.  John  was  eclijiMil  in  ilii-  iniiid  of  Papias  by  the 
desire  to  bear  tin-  li\  inu  \oii-i-  of  the  Lord  Himself 
in  the  (Jospcl.  II  i^  innlialile  that  in  Pajiias  we 
are  in  the  ]iii-si-nri-  of  a  certain  conservatism  ■wliiih 
marked  Avilh  smiii-  n-i^rct  the  dying  out  of  those 
who  were  in  piisscssion  of  the  oral  tradition  about 
the  life  and  teaching  of  Jesus,  and  the  gradual 
substitution  of  the  written  word  as  the  authority 
for  the  Christian  life  which,  of  necessity,  was  taking 
place.  It  was  his  aim  from  an  early  period  in  his 
activity  to  collect  the  oral  tradition.  One  thing  at 
least  is  practically  certain,  that  if  Papias  knew  and 
quoted  the  Gospel,  it  must  have  been  for  him  an 
authentic  record.  If  the  (iospi^l  emcriaod  at  the 
close  of  the  1st  (-cut.  or  (In-  \-im-v  Iw^iniiin--  of  tho 
2nd,  as  it  undoulitclly  iliil,  .•iml'iliil  lu.l  luiiii^  wilh 
it  the  strongest  creili'iili.-ils  and  most  nniiiistaka,iilt> 
indications  that  it  was  in  complete  accord  with  the 
accredited  oral  teaching  so  much  valued  by  Papias, 
it  is  difficult  to  think  that  in  a  mind  of  such  sim- 

Elicity  as  his  it  could  have  raised,  as  it  appears  to 
ave  done,  only  the  merest  ripple  on  the  surface. 
(2)  Ignatius  was  bishop  of  Antioch  in  Syria.  A 
number  of  letters  have  come  down  to  us  under  his 
name,  of  which  only  seven  are  genuine.  The 
writer  was  at  the  time  on  his  way  from  Antioch  to 
Rome  under  sentence  of  death.  The  date  110- 
117,  the  closing  years  of  Trajan's  reign,  may  be 
assigned  to  them. 


Il.-sll 


Father.'  't'lioe  wonl^  in.-vilal,lv  ivrall  ,ln  V"-  "i.-l. 
also  42=  'tlieFatlii-r  m-i-Im-iIi  sii.-li  1..  \M,r>]ii|i  liini 'i. 
Not  only  the  ideas,  iml  llici  oin,  iilmn-of  ii|,-as,  M-cni 
to  point  to  the  slmv  ol  I  In-  «oiiiaii  of  Samaria  a,s 
to  a  passage  in  the  Uosiicl  which  is  alloi.lin-j  liini 
comfort  in  his  trial.  Again,  in  Vlnhnl.  \\\.  |.  In- 
saySj  'The  Spirit  is  not  deceived,  lii-in-  from  Coil  : 
for  it  knoweth  whence  it  <»metb  ami  «liiilii  r  ii 
goeth,  and  searcheth  out  the  hiildcii  iliimj>  (it. 
Jn  3»  8",  1  Jn  2").  There  are  sonn-  -iril,iii;j  ilillir- 
ences  in  the  thought  of  the  parallel  la-aui--:  Imt 
it  is  diflicult  to  re.slst  the  conclusion  lli.-it  the 
words  of  T-naliu:,  air  due  to  the  inlluence  ut  tliese 
Johannim-  |ia--a-jr  ■  lloatini;  in  his  mind'  {Xciv 
Test,  ill . I / " .  ■■/ .  / . I / A .  , ...  ( i.vford  Society  of  Historical 
Tbeolouv.  Kill.-..  |i,  sj,  wli,-re  see  other  parallelisms), 
r.otli  in  i-x, Ill-nil,  ami  ,11  ilorhim-  tlicro   is  an   lui- 


EvniKjilc,  p.  7).  Von  der  Goltz  holds  that  the  afhnity 
of  thouglit  is  so  deep  that  it  cannot  be  explained 
by  the  influence  of  a  book,  and  that  the  %xriter  of 
the  letters  must  have  been  imbued  with  the  tra- 
dition and  thought  of  a  school  (quoted  by  Sanday, 
Ci-H.  of  Fourth  Gospel,  p.  243).  Sanday  himself 
'  doubts  whether  there  is  any  other  instance  of 
resemblance  between  a  Biblica"l  and  patristic  book 
that  is  really  so  close'  {Hi.). 

Two  ariiiuncnts,  taken  from  the  writings  of 
luiialius,  arc  n-licil  upon  by  opponents  of  the  Apos- 
tolic aiillioi>lii]i.  (,/|  It  is  urged  that  he  nowhere 
i|Uoti-s    Ihi-  Co-pcI    as  of    Apostolic   nnthnrity.   al- 


ing  on  this  objection,  that,  although  it  is  quite 
evident  that  Ignatius  knew  1  Cor.  'almost  by 
heart,'  he  has  '  no  quotations  (in  the  strictest  sense, 
with  mention  of  the  source)  from  that  Epistle '  {NT 
in  Apost.  Fathers,  p.  67).  This  is  only  another 
instance  of  the  precariousness  of  the  argument 
from  silence,  considered  apart  from  the  idiosyn- 
crasies of  a  writer,  (i)  Again,  it  is  also  objected 
that  in  writing  to  the  Ephesian  community  in 
which  St.  .loliii  i>  >aiil  to  have  laboured,  Ignatius 
mentions  St.  I'aul  as  a  hero  of  the  faith,  whom 
he  sets  before  liinisclf  .and  them  for  imitation,  but 
makes  no  mention  of  St.  John  {Ej)hes.  .xii.).  To 
this  argument  it  must  be  admitted  that  no  very 
satisfactory  answer  has  yet  been  given.  Ignatius 
is,  indeed,  predisposed  to  mention  St.  Paul's  name, 
through  his  evident  desire  to  compare  bis  own 
experience  and  the  Apostle's  in  calling  together 
the  elders  of  Ephesus.  Again,  the  writings  of  St. 
Paul,  which  have  more  clearly  in  view  the  various 
heresies  of  the  time,  would  perhaps  suit  his  purpose 
better. 

It  cannot  be  regarded  as  certain  that  Ignatius 
used  the  (Tospel.  His  evidence  is  on  the  border- 
line between  evidence  for  the  existence  of  the 
Go^|lel  anil  ]iroof  of  the  influence  of  a  milieu  of 
.loliannine  teaeliing  and  thought.  It  is  probable 
that  Ign.iliiiv  liail  iTi-i-ess  to  some  iloi-iiment  contain- 
ing Jolianiiiiie  learjiinu  (i-f.  .  .ij.  Ills  leference  to  the 
narrati\e  of  Mm-  Homan  of  Saniaiia)  ;  on  the  other 
hand,  tlial  miulil  i-a-ily  lia\e  lieeii  a  story  told 
orally  by  tin-  A|iii,lle  in  the  course  of  his  preach- 
ing and  leailiin-,  anil  embedded  in  the  hearts  and 
mindsof  llioM- who  heard  him. 

(3)  Polycarp  was  liisbop  of  Smyrna.  His  writ- 
ing has  come  down  to  us  in  the  form  of  an  Epistle 
to  the  Philippians.  The  date  of  his  martyrdom 
was  Ion"  uncertain,  but  the  investigations  of  Light- 
foot  and  Harnack  have  led  to  the  almost  certain 
conclusion  that  he  died  in  155  at  the  age  of  86. 

Ai,  ii-;_iarils  the  Gospel,  we  have  two  sources  from 
wliirli  we  may  derive  evidence  as  to  his  opinions, 
viz.  the  /:jii.s//n  and  some  icminisrences  of  Irenpeus. 

(«)  In  the  Epistle,  l'ol\rai|i  makes  no  reference 
toany  document,  except  lliai  lii-ieleis  to  St.  Paul's 
Ep.' to  the  Philippians  imiiiei  I  ia  Illy  after  mentioning 
his  name,  and  in  another  i«ssage  again  quotes  the 
K]iislle  w  it liout  remark.  There  is  also  a  sentence 
wliirli,  I  hough  not  verbally  accurate,  bears  every 
liaieof  having  been  taken  from  the  First  Epistle 
of  St.  John:  •Kvervone  who  shall  not  1  oiife...  (hat 
JesusChrist  is  ci.me  in  tin-  Ih-h  i-  Ant  hhi  i-l  '  (cf. 
1  Jn4--').  He  ha-  al>ii  a  ]ias>am-  ihal  leialls  at 
once  words  of  t'liii>t  in  the  ( lo^pel  ami  the  thought 
of  the  Epistle :  '  He  that  raised  Him  from  the 
dead  will  raise  us  also,  if  we  do  His  will  and 
walk  in  His  commandments,  and  love  the  things 
which  He  loved  '  (cf .  Jn  V  14'=,  1  Jn  2'-  "  5'-  =).  We 
also  find  in  Polycarp,  v.  2,  '  As  He  hath  jiromised 
to  raise  us  from  the  dead.'  This  promise  is  found 
only  in  Jn  6''^.  These  parallelisms  at  least  show 
that  he  was  familiar  with  a  circle  of  Johannine 


JOHN,  GOSPEL  OF 


JOHN,  GOSPEL  OF 


thought.  He  does  not  once  mention  the  name  ol' 
St.  John  ;  but  the  Church  at  Philippi  had  not  been 
directly  in  contact  with  that  Apostle.  Moreover, 
his  habits  of  quotation  hardly  lead  us  to  expect  any 
other  result  (of.  AT  in  Apost.  Fathers,  p.  84). 

(6)  Irenreus  gives  Polycarp  a  foremost  place 
among  the  elders  whom  tie  quotes.  He  says  that 
he  'had  not  only  been  instructed  by  Apostles, 
and  associated  with  many  who  had  seen  the  Christ, 
but  had  also  been  placed  by  Apostles  in  Asia  in 
the  Church  at  Smyrna  as  a  bishop,  whom  we  also 
saw  in  our  early  life'  (iv  ttj  irpdrri  ijKiKig.)  {Hcer. 
III.  iii.  4).  Eusebius  has  preserved  for  us  a  letter 
of  his  to  Florinus,  in  which  he  gives  an  account  of 
his  listening  with  peculiar  attention  to  Polycarp, 
and  vividly  recalls  tne  very  place  where  he  sat  when 
he  discoursed,  his  manner  of  life,  and  his  personal 
appearance,  '  and  how  he  would  describe  his  inter- 
course with  John,  and  with  the  rest  who  had  seen 
the  Lord,  and  how  he  would  relate  their  words. 
And  whatsoever  things  he  had  heard  from  them 
about  the  Lord,  and  about  His  miracles,  and  about 
His  teaching,  Polycarp,  as  havin"  received  them 
from  eye-witnesses  of  the  life  of  the  Word,  would 
relate  them  in  accordance  with  the  Scriptures ' 
{ap.  Euseb.  HE  v.  xx.  6).  Again,  Irenteus  also, 
in  a  letter  to  Victor,  bishop  of  Rome,  on  the 
Paschal  controversy,  uses  as  an  argument  tlie 
fact  that  Polycarp  followed  the  example  of  '  John 
the  disciple  of  the  Lord,  and  the  rest  of  the  Apostles 
with  whom  he  consorted. '  Irenoeus  is  undoubtedly 
referring  to  the  Apostle  John ;  and  if  that  be  so, 
there  can  be  little  doubt  that  '  the  Scriptures '  to 
which  Polycarp  referred  contained  the  Fourth 
Gospel  in  some  form.  Thus  the  silence  of  Poly- 
carp, in  the  solitary  writing  that  has  come  down 
to  us,  is  balanced  by  the  explicit  statement  of 
Irenffius  that  Polycarp  knew  St.  John,  and  referred 
to  him  in  his  discourse. 

Opponents  of  the  Johannine  authorship  of  the  Gospel  have 

They  allege  that  he  made  a  mistake  in  rejjarding  Papias  as  a 
hearer  of  John,  and  that  he  has  possibly  done  the  same  in  the 
case  of  Polycarp.  The  John  to  whom  Polycarp  referred  may 
have  been  the  Presbyter.  Irenseus  was  still  a  boy  (U  Tec^iuv) 
when  he  heard  his  teacher.  At  the  same  time,  it  is  hardly 
likely  that  the  vivid  personal  impression  he  has  of  Polycarp 
contains  a  mistake  of  this  kind.  Polycarp  evidently  mentioned 
the  name  of  John  with  some  frequency,  and  there  is  no  evidence 
that  the  Presbyter  John  was  a  man  of  such  note  in  Asia  as  to 
be  thus  referred  to  in  Polycarp's  lectures.     It  is  inconceivable 


that,  if  there  had  been  any  prospect  of  confusion  in  1 
as  listening  to  him,  Polycarp  would 
i  (see  Stanton,  Gospel'i  a.s  Hist.  Dod. 


(4)  We  have  still  to  deal  with  a  group  of  writ- 
ings classed  among  the  Apostolic  Fatliers,  whose 
evidence  on  the  subject  is  rendered  vague  and  in- 
conclusive, inasmuch  as  they  contain  no  definite 
quotations  from  the  Gospel,  and  there  is  also  un- 
certainty as  to  their  dates,  (a)  The  Epistle  of 
Barnabas  reflects  the  condition  of  thought  in 
Egypt,  and  the  date  may  lie  anywhere  between  79 
ancl  132.  The  theory  that  Barnabas  used  the 
Fourth  Gospel  found  strangely  a  strong  champion 
in  Keim,  who  assigned  tlip  datp  1-20-130  (./e.siw  o/" 
Naz.  i.  192-195).  Loisy,  on  tlir  dilior  liand,  accept- 
ing the  date  c.  130,  uru^~  ,  ,,,,,1,1,  :.  mnorance  of  the 
Gospel  on  the  part  of  K:mi,tl«>,  ;iimI  uses  the  argu- 
ment to  prove  that  tin-  .lolianiune  \vritings  h.ad 
not  yet  taken  complete  possession  of  ecclesiastical 
usa"e  {Lc  QiiatriAme  Ev.  p.  5).  In  Barnnhas,  use  is 
made  of  the  idea  of  the  Brazen  Serpent ;  and  the 
conceptions  of  'eternal  life,'  which  often  incurs, 
and  of  'feeding  upon  the  words  of  life,'  seem  In 
point  to  the  influence  of  a  Johannine  curnni  ..t 
thought.  (A)  Only  one  of  tlie  epistles  known  iind.  r 
the  name  of  Clement  of  Rome  is  genuine.  It  w.is 
written  from  the  Roman  community  to  the  Corin- 
thian, c.  100.  Here,  again,  the  WTiter  seems  to  l)e 
influenced  by  Johannine  teaching  (cf.  Clem.  xlix. 


pupil  of  Valentinus  ;  and  it  is  exceptionally  1 
evidence,  not  only  for  the  early  existence  bu 


and  Jn  H^'-^,  1  Jn  5'=).  (t)  The  Didache,  or 
Teaching  of  the  Twelve  Apostles,  is  a  composite 
document,  and  is  the  earliest  manual  of  Cnurch 
procedure  extant.  The  elements  of  which  it  is 
composed  may  have  been  in  use  at  tlie  end  of  the 
1st  cent.,  but  the  wi>rk  111  its  piescut  form  was  pub- 
lished much  later.  Ii  ((jiitaius  a  specimen  of  a 
praj-er  of  thanksgiviiiu  for  use  utter  the  Eucharist, 
in  which  there  is  a  very  reiiuukable  parallel  to  the 
anti-sacranientarian  treatment  of  the  ideas  of  the 
Supper  in  the  Fourth  Gospel  (ch.  6) :  '  Thou, 
Almighty  Master,  didst  create  all  things  for  thy 
name's  sake,  and  didst  give  food  and  drink  unto 
men  for  enjoyment,  that  they  might  render  thanks 
unto  thee  ;  but  didst  bestow  upon  us  spiritual  food 
and  drink  and  eternal  life  through  tliy  Son '  {Did. 
X.  3).  (rf)  The  Shepherd  of  Hermas  (c.  100  Zahn, 
135-145  Hamack)  displays  a  Johannine  colouring 
of  thought. 

5.  Evidence  derived  from  Opponents  of  Church 
doctrine  in  the  2nd  century.— (\)  The  Clement- 
ine Homilies.  —  These  are  the  work  of  a  Jewish 
Christian,  and  were  published  at  Rome  not  earlier 
than  A.D.  160-170.  In  one  of  the  Homilies  (dis- 
covered by  Dressel  in  1837)  there  is  an  undoubted 
(quotation  (xix.  22)  from  Jn  9-- '.  There  are  also 
in  the  Homilies  other  apparent  references  to  the 
Gospel. 

(2)  The  Gnostics. — There  were  two  gieat  schools 
of  Gnostics — the  Valentinians  and  the  Basilidians. 
The  date  of  the  literary  activity  of  Valentinus  is 
uncertain,  but  we  know  that  there  existed  a  school 
of  his  followers  before  A.D.  150.     Heracleon  was  a 

.strong 
lUt  also 
for  the  authenticity  of  the  Fourth  Gospel,  that  he 
composed  a  Commentary  on  it  which  is  quoted  by 
Origen.  Tertullian  contrasts  Valentinus  and  Mar- 
cion  as  to  the  way  in  which  they  use  Scripture.  He 
says  that  Marcion  used  the  'Knife,'  while  Valen- 
tinus '  accepted  the  whole  instrument'  (i.e.  the  four 
Gospels),  but  with  an  ability  not  less  than  Marcion's 
'  laid  hands  upon  the  truth.'  We  hear  of  a  school 
of  Basilides  e.  133,  and  his  own  period  of  activity 
was  A.D.  117-138.  Hippolytus  in  his  Refutatio 
quotes  BasUides,  and  in  the  quotations  there  are 
undoubted  extracts  from  the  Gospel.  The  question 
discussed  by  modem  criticism  is  whether  these  are 
quotations  from  BasUides  or  from  the  representative 
of  a  school  (ef.  Drummond,  op.  cit.  296-301).  There 
is  a  strong  preponderance  of  e\idciKe  in  favour  of 
Basilides  himself  as  the  sourci-. 

So  far  as  the  earlier  Gnostic^  :iio  coniiTiied — the 
Naasseni,Perat{e,  Ophites.  .111.1  Do.-.tir  it  is  gener- 
ally admitted  that  the  Gospel  is  emliei  tli.an  these 
controversies ;  and  Hippolytus  tells  us  that  they 
made  abundant  use  of  the  Gospel. 

(3)  Marcion  was  a  contemporary  of  Valentinus. 
— The  principle  of  his  work  is  to  .secure  a  Gospel 
that  shall  represent  the  pure  doctrine  of  Christ,  un- 
mixed with  Jewish  prejudices,  which  he  regarded 
as  inherent  in  the  minds  of  the  primitive  Apostles. 
We  find  him  rejecting  all  others  in  favour  of  St. 
Luke,  which  was  written  under  Pauline  influence  ; 
and  he  mutilated  even  that  Gosnel  to  suit  his  pur- 
pose. We  cannot  expect  to  find  in  his  writing  any 
reference  to.  the  Gospel  of  .John,  but,  from  his 
action  in  rejecting  the  -vmtings  of  the  early  Apostles, 
we  may  draw  the  negative  conclusion  that  if  the 
Gospel  was  regarded  as  written  by  St.  John  it  would 
be  siillieieiil  leiisiin  for  its  rejection.  He  made  use 
ol  ill.'  |.:i  ...J.-  ill  (lalatians  where  St.  Paul  rebukes 
■.\|...  il.'  ili.tii^elves'  'who  walked  not  uprightly 
;i....i.liii;i  I..  Ilie  truth  of  the  gospel'  (2'*).  His 
silcnie  as  to  the  F'ourth  (iosiiel  is  all  the  more 
striking  Iwcause  of  its  anti-.ludaic  tendency,  which 
would  have  predisposed  him  in  its  favour  had  it 
not  been  ■^^Titten  by  a  primitive  Apostle. 


JOHN,  GOSPEL  OF 


JOHN,  GOSPEL  OF 


6.  The    Quartodeciman  controversy.  —  In    the 

latter  part  of  the  2nd  cent,  a  controversy  was  rife 
between  certain  Asiatic  Christians  and  tlie  Churcli 
with  regard  to  their  Paschal  observance  on  the 
14th  Nisan.  They  appealed  to  the  example  of  the 
Apostle  John  in  defence  of  their  practice.  In  the 
Gospel  the  Paschal  meal  falls  on  the  13th,  and  it 
was  contended  by  Bretschneider,  followed  by  the 
Tubingen  School,  that  therefore  the  Apostle  could 
not  be  the  author  of  the  Gospel.  A  fuller  investi- 
gation, however,  into  the  rationale  of  the  Quarto- 
deciman controversy  goes  far  to  remove  the  diffi- 
culty. In  opposition  to  the  Tubingen  School,  it  was 
held  that  the  14th  was  kept  not  in  commemoration 
of  the  Passover,  but  in  commemoration  of  the  deatli 
of  Christ,  which  would  be  in  accord  with  the  Fourth 
Gospel.  This  still  leaves  the  ditliculty  unsolved, 
that  in  the  Synoptics  the  death  of  Christ  falls  on 
the  15th.  Accordingly,  Bleek  (followed  by  Schiirer) 
and  Stanton  maintain  that  the  observance  in  ques- 
tion was  neither  of  the  institution  of  the  Supper, 
nor  of  the  death  of  Christ  alone,  but  that  the  Chris- 
tian Jews  gave  to  the  Passover  day  a  new  meaning 
which  made  it  a  commemoration  of  the  entire  fact 
of  redemption,  including  the  Supper,  the  Death, 
and  the  Resurrection  of  Christ.  This  interpretation 
seems  to  be  the  correct  one.  At  the  same  time, 
while  it  surmounts  the  difficulty  caused  by  the 
chronology  of  the  Fourth  Gospel,  there  still  remains 
the  fact  tliat  the  Quartodecimans  of  the  latter  half 
of  the  century  appealed  to  the  example  of  Christ  as 
eating  the  Passover  on  the  14th.  If  such  an  appeal 
was  made  in  the  earlier  part  of  the  controversy,  and 
at  the  same  time  the  example  of  St.  John  was  quoted 
in  support,  we  should  be  face  to  face  with  a  strong 
argument  against  the  Apostolic  authorship  of  the 
Gospel.  There  is  no  proof,  however,  that  the  argu- 
ment from  the  example  of  Christ  was  used  before 
the  time  of  ApoUinaris.  Apollinaris  distinctly 
assumes  that  the  Synoptics  and  St.  John  must  not 
be  made  to  contradict  one  another  ;  and  Polycrates 
as  distinctly  holds  the  Apostolic  authorship,  al- 
though he  is  a  Quartodeciman  (cf.  Schmiedel, 
op.  cit.  ii.  2552-2553,  who  regards  the  Quarto- 
deciman argument  as  still  valid  against  the  Apos- 
tolic authorship.  The  question  is  fully  discussed 
by  Stanton,  op.  cit.  i.  pp.  173-197,  with  a  result 
favourable  to  the  traditional  view). 

7.  The  Alogi.— These  were  a  party  in  Asia  Minor 
(c.  A.D.  180)  who  rejected  the  Johannine  authorship 
of  the  Gospel  and  the  Apocalypse.  They  are  first 
mentioned  by  Epiphanius  and  Philaster  (4th  cent.), 
but  it  may  now  be  safely  admitted  that  Irenseus 
opposes  their  views  in  H(Er.  in.  xi.  12  (Zahn  and 
Harnack).  They  attributed  the  authorship  to 
Cerinthus,  and  founded  their  argument  chiefly  on 
the  chronological  disparity  with  the  Synoptics. 
The  main  interest  in  the  Alogi  centres  round  the 
question  whether  they  betoken  uncertainty  in  the 
ecclesiastical  tradition.  Epiphanius  ranks  them 
among  heretics,  but  it  is  certain  that  they  were  a 
party  in  the  Church  (Schiirer  and  Harnack).  The 
name  'Alogi'  is  a  jest  of  Epiphanius,  and  indicates 
merely  that  they  rejected  the  Logos  Gospel,  with 
more  than  a  hint  at  their  stupidity  (aXo7os=' un- 
reasonable'). It  gives  no  clue  to  their  doctrinal 
position.  Epiphanius,  himself  very  orthodox,  says 
'  that  they  seem  to  believe  as  we  do.'  Probably 
they  were  opposed  to  some  form  of  the  Montanist 
heresy,  and  in  their  zeal  sought  to  get  rid  of  the 
teaching  of  the  Gospel  on  the  Holy  Spirit  by  re- 
jecting the  whole.  This  step  they  strove  to  justify 
by  the  chronological  disparities  with  the  Synoptics 
and  otlier  internal  discrepancies.  Irenceus  says  of 
them  that  'they  frustrate  the  gift  of  the  Spirit.' 
The  raillenarian  views  of  the  Montanists  may  have 
directed  their  first  attack  on  the  Apocalypse,  which 
they  extended  to  the  Gospel  '  by  a  piece  of  sheer 


bravado '  (Sanday,  Crit.  of  Fourth  Gospel,  p.  65). 
Their  influence  seems  to  have  been  small.  Irenteus 
and  Epiphanius  refer  to  them  slightingly,  and 
Schwarz  (op.  cit.  p.  33),  in  common  with  Salmon,  al- 
though from  a  ditierent  motive,  narrows  them  down 
to  a  single  individual  with  perhaps  a  coterie  behind 
liini.  We  may  admit  that  tlie  presence  of  the  Alogi 
in  the  Church  indicates  tliat  the  belief  in  the  Johan- 
nine authorship  had  not  reached  that  stage  of  clear 
definition  and  regular  acceptance  which  only  con- 
troversy and  time  could  give.  They  '  came  upon 
the  tradition  unawares '  (Loisy).  Tiie  Cliurcli  was 
not  yet  in  a  position  either  to  challenge  with  critical 
weapons,  or  to  expel  as  heretics  those  who  dift'ered 
from  her  traditional  beliefs  about  authorship  (Iren- 
Beus  could  only  defend  the  fourfold  Gospel  mystic- 
ally), especially  when  they  were  fighting,  as  in  this 
case,  a  common  foe  in  Montanism.  Indeed,  the 
Alogi  can  really  be  pressed  into  the  service  of  tra- 
dition. '  Its  ascription  to  Cerinthus,  an  impossible 
author,  betrays  the  recklessness  of  the  judgment 
pronounced  ;  while  the  naming  of 


and    fellow  •  townsman    of    the    Apostle    may   be 
'  "        of  the 


contemporary 
.  jstle    m 
accepted  as  an  indication  of  the  true  date 
Gospel'  (Dods,  Expos.  Gr.  Test.  i.  p.  659). 

II.  The  Internal  Evidence.— No  text  of  the 
Gospel  that  we  possess  is  without  the  categorical 
statement  of  21^  that  the  book  contains  the  witness 
of  the  Apostle  John  and  is  written  by  him.  It 
seems  the  more  probable  view  that  this  whole 
chapter  was  composed  by  friends  of  the  Evangelist, 
either  towards  the  end  of  his  life,  or  after  his 
death,  in  order  to  remove  a  misinterpretation  of  a 
saying  of  Jesus  about  him.  The  position  assi'Tied 
to  St.  Peter  in  the  chapter  might  be  explained  by 
the  desire  to  show  that,  although  tlie  Gospel  leaves 
him  weighted  with  the  guilt  of  his  denial,  he  was 
restored  to  his  place  in  the  Apostolic  circle,  and 
that  no  disparagement  or  supersession  is  intended 
of  the  Petrme  Gospel  that  lies  at  the  basis  of  the 
Synoptics.  We  have  no  moral  right  to  regard  the 
statement  of  21^  as  anything  but  a  bona  fide  state- 
ment of  the  earliest  view  of  the  authorship,  and  in 
the  internal  evidence  we  have  to  consider  how  far 
the  book  itself  corresponds  with  this  suggested 
view. 

1.  The  author  is  a  Jew.— (1)  His  attitude  towards 
the  OT  shows  unmistakably  that  it  was  for  him  a 
valuable  aid  to  faith  and  a  deep  source  of  religious 
experience.  The  opening  words  of  the  Gospel  are 
reminiscent  of  Gn  l' ;  3"  recalls  Dt  30'-.  '  His  own ' 
in  1"  can  betray  only  the  tragic  consciousness  of  a 
Jew  that  the  chosen  nation  rejected  the  Christ. 
The  words  in  10*^  '  the  Scripture  cannot  be  broken,' 
may  be  taken  as  expressing  the  Evangelist's  own 
conviction.  He  sees  in  certain  incidents  in  the  life 
of  Jesus  that  would  otherwise  cause  perplexity, 
especially  some  connected  with  the  Passion,  the 
fulfilment  of  the  OT.  Twice  the  conduct  of  Judas 
is  explained  by  Scripture  (13'*  17'^).  The  mournful 
sight  of  the  "arments  of  Jesus  distributed  among 
the  rough  soldiers  brings  to  mind  a  prophecy  (ig-'^). 
The  thirst  of  Jesus,  who  Himself  had  the  gift  of 
the  living  water,  is  a  fulfilment  of  Scripture  (19^). 
It  is  in  Scripture  that  he  finds  a  solution  for  the 
problem  of  the  failure  of  Christ's  ministry  and 
teaching  (12^').  The  very  spear-thrust  has  a  place 
in  the  counsels  of  God  (19^"-  *'),  and  becomes  an  aid 
to  faith  (19^^*).  While  the  Evangelist  rarely  cites 
incidents  from  the  OT,  and  the  great  majority  of 
the  OT  references  are  contained  in  the  discourses  of 
Christ,  it  has  to  be  borne  in  mind  that  the  Gospel 
was  written  for  Gentile  readers,  to  whom  only  the 
outlines  of  the  history  would  be  familiar. 

(2)  The  writer  is  familiar  not  only  ivith  the  Mes- 
sianic expectation,  but  also  with  the  limitations  that 
it  suffered  in  thepoptilar  mind.    The  hope  is  current 

ialiloo  (141.  46.  48  CIS.  28.  Slll.l     ;„    Samana    M!».  28.  421 


in  Galilee  (1^ 


Samaria  (4«5- » 42), 


878 


JOHN,  GOSPEL  OF 


JOHX,  GOSPEL  OF 


in  Judaea  (5»  ^^'- 1^'-  "-'^  S^^<-  10=^).  '  Among  friends, 
among  foes,  among  nontiaK  alike,  it  is  discussed.' 
The  purpose  of  the  C...].,  1  i-  t..  iihhu-e  belief  that 
Jesus  is  the  Christ  (--'n  ''.  X^t  imly  so,  but  the 
limitations  and  miscniici|iii,iii^  nt  the  idea  of  the 
Christ  in  the  popular  mind  are  familiar  to  him. 
Elijah  and  the  Prophet  are  not  yet  come  (l*") ;  the 
outlook  is  unspiritual  (6"-  '^)  ;  the  Messiah  will 
never  die  (6*'  IS**) ;  Jesus  does  not  satisfy  their 
conventional  ideas  (7-^-  ^-). 

(3)  The  writer  is  familiar  with  the  ideas  and 
rnstonis  of  the  Jews.  AVe  have  a  picture  of  a 
Jewish  marriage  feast  (2'"'"),  of  pastoral  life 
(IQi-"),  of  burial  customs  (11»*--"  IQ*),  the  estimate 
of  women  (4^),  the  disparagement  of  the  Disper- 
sion (7**),  the  heredity  of  sin  (9-).  The  religious 
observances  of  the  people  are  known  to  him,  and 
he  displays  great  familiarity  with  the  Temple 
and  its  services.  The  Synagogue  and  the  Temple 
are  places  of  resort  (18**) ;  he  knows  the  side  of 
the  Temple  where  shelter  is  to  be  had  in  in- 
clement weather  (10^^  ^) ;  it  was  forty-six  years 
in  building  (S®*) ;  he  speaks  of  the  treasury  (8-'"). 
The  two  feasts  of  Tabernacles  and  of  Dedication 
are  familiar  to  him,  even  to  the  implied  ritualistic 
details  (Westcott,  vi.).  He  speaks  of  the  'great 
daj' '  of  the  feast  of  Tabernacles.  He  is  familiar 
with  the  narrow  Sabbatarian  views  of  the  Jews 
(5'"  9'*  7"'"^).  In  the  last  passage  a  subtle  argu- 
ment is  founded  on  the  knowledge  that  circumcision 
is  allowable  on  the  Sabbath. 

Does  the  statement  that  Caiaph.is  was  '  hig^h  priest  that  same 
year"  (11«  repeated  1151  isU)  i,„piy  that  the  writer  imasined 
that  the  office  was  tenable  only  for  a  year?  The  repetition 
after  the  manner  of  the  Evangelist  is  meant  to  inijiress  more 
thanachronoloj.'icaI  fart.  Either  tlie  words  may  have  an  ironical 
significance,  ari-''._  'r  11.  *!•  'i  -  tint  the  three  predecessors  of 
Caiaphas  had  !>■  -  ■     i  '         I    ''.  i    l  \  rar's  tenure,  and  would  be 

an  allusion  to  til  i:   ii,i>  of  the  office  (Delfl,  CfscA. 

des  Rabbi  ./<■..'.  \  i,,.  s,,,  so);  or  the  Evangelist 

seeks  to  conneit  M  ill  L'l  i!i  ■]■.'  'iilice  of  the  high  priest  with 
the  part  that  he  |.«.k  m  a.-eoinplishmi;  the  death  of  Christ.  The 
high  priest  entered  alone  once  a  year  into  the  Holy  of  Holies, 
where  he  offered  atonement  for  the  sins  of  the  people  (He  9'), 
and  in  *  that  memorable  year '  Caiaphas  is  but  an  unconscious 
instrument  in  bringing  about  the  great  and  final  sacrifice  (West- 
cott, \i. ;  cf.  also  B.  Weiss,  Com.  ad  loc). 

(4)  It  has  been  contended  against  these  indica- 
tions that  tvhen  the  writer  mentions  the  Jews  he 
seeins  to  speak  of  them  as  a  foreigner  would  speak. 
They  are  throughout  represented  as  the  bitter 
enemies  of  Christ  (2'«  5"f-  6"  7"«'-  «^  10^-  U^ 
13^  2C).  The  term  oi  'louSaioi  is  sometimes  u.sed 
to  denote  the  Jews  as  a  nation,  in  distinction  from 
other  nations  :  sometimes  as  Jud»ans  distinguished 
from  GalUoeans  or  Peraeans ;  and  sometimes  the 
leaders  of  the  Je^vish  people  alone  are  meant.  This 
somewhat  indefinite  mode  of  speech  has  a  sufficient 
explanation  if  the  Evangelist  WTote  as  he  used  to 
speak  (Drumniond,  op.  cit.  416,  note).  There  is  no 
indication  in  his  tone  of  national  antagonism. 
Rather  his  attitude  is  like  that  of  St.  Paul  to 
his  countrymen.  The  Jews  are  'His  own'  (1")  ; 
Jesus  Himself  is  a  Jew  (4') ;  salvation  is  of  the 
Jews  (4~) ;  Nathanael  is  an  '  Israelite  indeed '  (1") ; 
there  are  believing  Jews  (S"  etc. ). 

This  Gospel  also  preserves  words  of  Christ  that 
trace  the  subsequent  persecution' by  the  Jews  to  its 
roots  in  their  ignorance  of  the  Father  and  the  Son 
(16^^).  In  this  Gospel  Jesus  never  denounces  the 
leaders  of  the  people  in  as  strong  terms  as  He  uses 
in  the  Synoptics.  That  He  expressly  distinguishes 
His  disciples  from  the  Jews  (13*'),  and  also  speaks 
of  'your  law'  (»'■  ll>«),  'their  law'  (15*=),  implies 
that  this  external  attitude  adopted  by  the  wTiter 
was  not  unkno\\Ti  during  the  ministry  on  earth  (cf. 
Dods,  Kxpon.  a,:  Text.  i.  606). 

2.  The  author  is  a  Jew  of  Palestine. — Many  of 
the  pr.-criliiiL;  .haLirti-ri-tics  are  already  ind'iea- 
tioiis  that  the  writt-r  is  a  native  of  Palestine.     (1) 


He  is  also  familiar  with  sites  and  places.  Jacob's 
well  is  deep  (4") ;  the  mountain  and  the  ripening 
cornfields  are  suggested  in  the  most  natural  lasliiim 
(vv.-"--'-^) ;  it  is  a  descent  from  the  high  gniunil 
where  Cana  stood  to  the  shores  of  Gennesaret  at 
Capernaimi  (v.*^).  Ch.  6  contains  some  minute 
information  as  to  the  district.  Bethsaida  (l**  12-') 
and  Bethany  (11')  are  not  merely  localities,  but 
connected  with  the  names  of  friends.  He  carefully 
distinguishes  Bethany  '  nigh  unto  Jerusalem  about 
fifteen  firrlongs'  (11'*)  from  'Bethany  beyond  Jor- 
dan' (1-*).  Nazareth  is  mentioned  not  only  as  the 
home  of  Jesus,  but  as  a  place  so  well  known  to 
Nathanael  that  he  considered  it  unlikely  that  '  any 
good  thing'  could  spring  from  such  commonplace 
sun-oundings  (l'^) ;  cf.  the  details  as  to  Sychar  (4=), 
.Enon  (3^),  Ephraim  (11").  A  very  striking  feature 
is  the  accurate  knowledge  displayed  of  the  topog- 
raphy Oi  Jerusalem  and  its  environs  (cf.  5-  18') : 
the  5^idron  ;  which  is  a  rav'ine  on  the  way  from  the 
city  to  the  Mount  of  Olives,  and  a  torrent  only  in 
winter  (xeijud/jpou,  18^) ;  the  Pavement  (Gabbatha) 
in  the  Prtetoriiun  (19'^);  Golgotha  (19").  The 
acclaiming  multitude  carried  in  their  hands  '■the 
branches  of  the  palm  trees'  which  grew  on  the 
Mount  of  Olives  (I2'3). 

(2)  It  has  been  customary  to  regard  the  so-called 
Hebraisms  of  the  Fourth  Gospel,  which  it  was  sup- 
posed to  share  with  the  other  NT  wTitings,  as  an 
indication  that  the  WTiter  was  a  Palestinian.  The 
study  of  the  papyri  has  revolutionized  this  idea. 
It  is  now  no  longer  permissible  to  speak  of  Hebra- 
istic Greek.  The  papyri  are  ^^Titten  in  the  ver- 
nacular Greek,  and  range  in  date  from  the  3rd 
cent.  B.C.  to  the  7th  cent.  A.D.  The  earlier  speci- 
mens furnish  a  convincing  parallel  in  language  to 
the  Greek  of  the  NT.  AVhere  there  are  Hebraic 
modes  of  expression,  these  must  be  traced  to  direct 
translation  from  the  Aramaic,  or  to  those  causes 
that  operate  in  the  introduction  of  foreign  elements 
into  the  vernacular  of  any  language  (Moulton, 
Grammar  of  NT  Greek,  Prolegomena,  vol.  i.  pp. 
18,  19).  At  the  same  time,  while  we  must  attribute 
the  simple  structure  of  this  Evangelist's  sentences 
and  the  absence  of  connecting  particles  to  his  use 
of  the  vernacular,  we  are  not  left  without  evidence 
that  he  knew  Hebrew.  In  his  quotations  from  the 
OT  he  made  use  of  the  LXX  (2"  12^  ig*"  lO*") ;  but 
he  is  also  independent  of  it  (19^  7^  1^  &^) ;  and 
there  is  an  interesting  group  of  cases  where  the 
LXX  seems  to  be  corrected  by  reference  to  the 
Hebrew  (6«  13'«  19^ ;  cf.  "Westcott,  Gospel  of  John, 
xiii-xiv ;  Drumniond,  op.  rit.  p.  364). 

(3)  Can  the  Logos  conception  of  the  Gospel  be 
shown  to  have  greater  affinity  with  Alexandrian 
than  with  Hebrew  thought  ?  It  is  noteworthy  that 
the  term  Xo7os  is  not  used  throughout  the  Gospel, 
either  in  the  discourses  or  in  the  narrative  parts, 
except  in  the  ordinary  sense  of  '  word ' ;  but  we 
must  not  neglect  other  passages  where  the  Logos 
idea  is  in  the  background.  The  lofty  and  undefined 
sense  of  the  plural  subject  in  such  passages  as  3""", 
the  well-known  pre-existence  passages,  the  asser- 
tion by  Christ  of  what  He  had  seen  with  the  Father 
(6**  8'«,  cf.  l'»),  His  teaching  which  is  not  of  Him- 
self (7'''""),  His  complete  unity  of  existence  with 
the  Father  (14'""),  are  all  expressions  of  the  Logos 
consciousness  (cf.  Grill,  Unteriurhunyen  iiber  die 
Entstehung  des  vierten  Evangeliums,  i.  pp.  32,  33). 
On  the  otlier  hand,  in  order  to  prove  that  the  Evan- 
gelist had  either  a  literary  acquaintance  with  the 
works  of  Philo,  or  was  deeply  influenced  by  his 
thought,  it  would  be  neces.sary  to  discover  a 
much  closer  correspondence  between  them  than  is 
actually  to  be  found.  In  the  Stoic  philosophy  with 
which  Philo  closely  identifies  himself,  the  term 
'  Logos '  has  the  double  significance  of  '  reason ' 
(\iyoi  ivStiecTos)  and  '  word '  (\<i7os  Trpo^opi/tiis),  and 


JOHN,  GOSPEL  OF 


JOHN,  GOSPPX  OF 


879 


in  the  Fourth  Gospel  there  is  not  a  trace  of  the 
former  sense.  Jesus  is  the  manifestation  of  God, 
the  uttered  Word.  Again,  in  the  Gospel  the  Logos 
is  identified  witli  the  Messiah,  and  in  Philo  there 
is  no  such  identification.  It  is  doubtful  whether 
Philo  attributes  (.eisoniility  to  the  Logos;  but 
there  can  be  noildulii  ..f  ilir  personal  existence  of 
the  Logos  in  tlic  (h.:^]hI.  At  the  same  time,  the 
author  of  the  Fciuilh  (icisi.d,  like  every  Hebrew 
thinker,  is  no  metaphysician,  and  he  simply 
projects  the  conception  of  personality,  which  he 
derived  from  the  knowledge  of  the  Incarnate  One, 
into  the  Word  in  its  pre-incarnate  existence.  The 
Angel  of  the  Lord  and  the  personified  Wisdom  in 
the  t)T  are  not  so  much  independent  existences  as 
immanent  determinations  of  the  Divine  Being. 
Moreover,  the  Incarnation  of  the  Logos  is  an  idea 
quite  foreign  to  the  mind  of  Philo,  not  because 
with  him  matter  is  essentially  corrupt,  but  because 
it  is  'regarded  as  a  principle  purely  neg:ative, 
arresting,  limiting,  restraining  the  penetration  of 
the  Divine  action,  in  proportion  to  its  thickness 
and  opacity "  (R6ville,  Le  QuatrUme  Svangile,  p. 
87).  For  Alexandrian  thought  an  Incarnation  of 
the  Logos  could  cmly  !»■  l)(Hr(i,  :  ■m,!  tbis  may 
have  given  rise  til  till' liri.-.    -i   i  .lii  _'  ' 


There  are,  howc-\  t- 
sion  between  Philo  a 
second  God'  {hiuTipo; 
Son  of  God  (i  wot  To5 


i-.iks 


(Si'  oS  0  xoirfjui;  Hxriffxii/xirtir) ;  Light  and  Life 
are  conceptions  of  Philo  as  applied  to  the  Logos ;  he  uses  the 
term  '  Paraclete,'  but  applies  it  to  the  '  cosmos '  and  not  to  the 
'  Logos.'  The  Logos  exists  in  heaven  ;  reveals  the  name  of  God  ; 
possesses  supernatural  knowledge  and  power  ;  is  continually  at 
work  ;  is  eternal ;  is  free  from  sin  ;  instructs  and  convinces  ;  dwells 
in  the  souls  of  men  ;  is  high  priest  towards  God  ;  is  the  source 
of  unity,  joy,  and  peace ;  imparts  eternal  life ;  is  bridegroom, 
father,  guide,  steersman,  shepherd,  physician  ;  imparts  manna  ; 
is  the  food  of  the  soul  (Grill,  pp.  115-12S).  For  a  discussion  of 
the  whole  question  see  Sanday,  Lc.  pp.  185-20(>.  These  co- 
incidences cannot  be  overlooked  in  deciding  the  question  of 
authorship.  We  must  bear  in  mind  that '  Logos '  is  the  word  by 
which  the  Hebrew  idea  of  the  Word  of  God  is  translated  in  tlic 
LXX,  and  that  there  are  passages  in  the  OT,  the  Apocrypha, 
and  in  the  Jewish  Targums  that  afford  equally  important  coin- 
cidences of  thought  (Ps  336  10720  14715,  is  408  .ii6I0.11,  Wis  9' 
1612  1815. 16  For  the  Memra  of  the  Targimis,  see  Edersheim, 
Life  and  Times,  i.  pp.  46-48).  The  Evangelist  would  meet  with 
these  ideas  nowhere  more  readily  than  in  Ephesus,  which  was 
also  the  home  of  the  Logos  philosophy  of  Heraclitus.  He 
would  be  disposed  to  keep  in  view  his  Greek  readers,  among 
whom  these  expressions  were  current.  Again,  we  find  similar 
coincidences  of  thought  with  Philo  in  the  writings  of  St.  I'anl 
and  in  the  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews.  If,  indeed,  we  were  toisolal. 
the  Prologue  to  the  Gospel,  which  may  be  regarded  as  cnn 
taining  all  that  was  in  the  author's  mind  essential  to  the  Lui^i. 
idea,  and  to  rid  ourselves  of  all  associations  of  the  word  '  Loyi  i- 
derived  from  Greek  philosophy,  we  should  find  that  the  thonu'lii 
remains  within  the  limits  of  the  OT,  except  in  the  case  of  vv. '   ' ' 

3.  The  writer  is  a  contemporary  of  the  eYents 
and  persons  in  his  narrative. — (1)  His  knoiBleihjr 
of  the  ecclesiastical  situation  and  feelinq  of  the 
time. — A  deputation  is  sent  to  the  Baptist  from 
the  ecclesiastical  authorities  in  Jerusalem  consist- 
ing of  priests  and  their  attendant  Levites  (l'""^-), 
and  the^ writer  breaks  the  narrative  of  the  deputa- 
tion to  insert  the  remark,  evidently  meant  to  ex- 
plain the  question  that  follows,  that  the  deputation 
included  some  Pharisees  (v.^).  Their  inquiry  be- 
trays an  interest  in  ritual  and  in  the  orderly 
observance  of  the  Law  which  is  characteristic  of 
that  party,  as  distinct  from  the  Sadducees.  The 
Sadducees  seem  to  have  applied  rationalist  prin- 
ciples to  the  old  religion,  .-in.!  were  ilistiiifxuished  by 
dogmatic  difi'erences  nut  only  HLjai.litii;  the  rule  of 
faith,  but  in  connexion  wilh  mk  h  iim'stions  as  the 
life  after  death,  and  the  que.stiun  uf  free-will  and 
predestination  (Edersheim,  Life  and  Times,  i.  pp. 
310-324).  The  writer  does  not  speak  of  Pharisees 
and  Sadducees,  but  of  Chief  Priests  .and  Pharisees, 
showing-  tliat  lio  is  .a.qiiaintc-1  with  t)ie  f.aot  that  the 

Saddiucr,  licl.l   II Hi.-,.,  ill   the  tini.'  of  Christ. 

The  pass:, .^,.  I  I ''Ms  full  ,,i, .,■,•!, .,ia-tiral  knowledge. 
Thedisciissi,,!!  ui  tlip  Sanlieilriii  is  .M-.-asioned  by  the 


inlluence  on  the  people  of  tlie  raising  of  Lazarus, 
and  we  can  clearly  ilistinjiiiisli  the  attitude  of  the 
two  parties.  Tia'  l'Iiari-ri>  are  repre.sented  as  in 
touch  with  the  ].im,]iIc  1 1  I '',  rf.  .Jos.  Ant.  xin.  x.  6), 
and  they  an-  aliai.l  \v^\  a  tumult  should  arise, 
and  thereby  the  n  i  l.',ia^l  ir.il  influence  (roiros)  and 
the  national  exisina,-  !„■  .li',troyed  by  Rome.  The 
reply  of  Caiaplia,  1,  c  liai-n  ti-ristic.  He  scornfully 
sets  aside  the  iiin'sti.iii  cf  ila-  miracle,  and  urges  an 
opportunist  policy  to  deal  with  the  actual  situa- 
tion (vv.J-'-  •*').  It  can  scarcely  be  without  meaning 
that  the  Evangelist,  who  knew  the  Sadduc.'ean  dis- 
belief in  inedestination,  should  represent  Caiaphas 
as  the  unconscious  prophet  and  instrument  of  the 
death  of  Christ  (vv.^i-^-').  In  7«-"  there  is  dis- 
played a  similar  knowledge  of  ecclesiastical  circles. 
After  the  triumphal  entry  the  Pharisees  seem  to 
have  been  tilled  with  dismay  at  their  loss  of  influ- 
ence with  the  people,  and  at  the  popularity  of 
Christ  (12'^),  and  it  is  the  ruling  Sadducjean  party 
who  plot  tlie  death  of  Lazarus  (v.'").  Again,  it  is 
the  Fourth  Evangelist  who  tells  us  of  the  informal 
trial  before  Annas,  who,  though  still  wielding  much 
power,  had  been  deposed  in  favour  of  his  son-in- 
law  (W---^). 

These  indications  of  an  acquaintance  with  opinion 
in  ecclesiastical  circles  are  in  complete  correspond- 
ence with  the  statement  in  18'^  about  the  disciple 
'who  was  known  to  the  high  priest.'  In  this 
Gospel  alone  are  we  told  the  name  (Malchus)  of 
the  servant  of  the  high  priest  whose  ear  was  cut 
off  by  Peter.  It  is  noteworthy,  also,  that  the  Evan- 
gelist is  acquainted  with  Sicoilnniis,  and  with 
Joseph  of  Arimathsea,  wlio  lii.|on;:r.|  to  the  Phari- 
saic party.  In  this  coinaxion  may  lie  mentioned 
the  tradition  of  Polycralcs  that  ■  .lolm,  who  leaned 
on  Jesus'  breast,'  also  wore  '  the  frontlet '  (Tr^raXoi') 
of  the  high  priest  (Eus.  HE  in.  xxxi.  3). 

Delff  has  propounded  the  theory  that  the  author  of  the 
Fourth  Gospel  was  an  unnamed  native  of  Jerusalem,  not  of  the 
number  of  the  Twelve,  but  a  man  of  high-priestly  family,  and  a 
member  of  the  higher  aristocracy.  He  founds  'on  IS'S,  on  the 
statement  of  Polycrates,  and  on  the  other  indications  in  the 
Gospel.  He  identifies  the  author  with  '  the  disciple  whom 
Jesus  loved,' and  describes  him  as  a  kind  of  'supernumerary 
disciple.'  Sanday  {C'l-tt.  of  Fourtlt  GtKywf,  90-11)8)  has  discussed 
this  theory  with  great  generositj-,  but  it  necessitates  a  further 
theory  of  interpolations,  and  itself  presents  some  insuperable 
diHiculties.  This  disciple  and  Peter  are  close  friends  (202),  and 
in  the  othiT  (iosjiels,  Peter  and  John  are  often  named  together 
11  \'  '  "  :' ■  si-i.  Gal  23).  We  cannot  suppose  that  within  the 
ii       '  ■]'   there  were  two  pairs  of  friends,  one  identical  in 

I'  '  if  Delff  is  right,  the  Apostle  John  is  not  once 
"  li  II  llic  Gospel,  and,  on  the  other  hand,  this  unknown 
ji    i       I  iletely  vanished  from  history,  unless  he  be  the 

II   ■  I    M  who  fled  at  the  arrest,  leaving  his  linen  cloth 

III'        I       I   tlie  shadowy  Presbyter  John  of  Papias.     It  will 

II         I  i  lilt  Delfl's  conclusion  goes  considerably  beyond  the 

i    I     ,     .    uL' must  be  prepared,  in  assigning  the  authorship, 

I'  II    ii-iii,"   ihi-  undoubted  Insight  of  the  Evangelist  into  the 

eock-siustiral  situation. 

(2)  His  knowledge  of  the  opinions  of  the  populace 
(6x^0^)- — He  knows  their  varying  verdicts  about 
Christ  (7""");  the  wonder  of  "the  '  Jerusalemites ' 
at  the  immunity  Jesus  enjoys  from  injury,  not- 
withstanding His  fearless  speaking  (7*'") ;  the 
belief  of  some  of  the  crowd  (7^',  cf.  v.'"')  ;  the 
fickleness  of  the  pojmlaris  aura  is  graphically  de- 
scribed (7*'-''-')  ;  the  excitement  among  the  people 
in  view  of  the  request  of  the  Sanhedrin  for  informa- 
tion as  to  the  whereabouts  of  Jesus,  and  the  possi- 
bility of  His  niipcarance  at  the  feast,  is  vividly 
portraycil  (ll'»  m  The  climax  of  popular  accla- 
matioi'i  is  r..a,h..l  in  12'2-'9. 

(.'H)  77(1  ii-nt,  r  .ij"  iiks  as  one  to  trhom  the  wrn  and 
women  uf  his  nnrrnfive  arc  pn-^>.),ri!!n  f  r-,-,iih'ar. 
— Nicodemus  is  introduced  Sol  I II  hi  i  ■  I.  ilyinto 
the  narrative,  but  that  is  in  till'  i  i      i  -       i  I'n   i;\an- 


either  from  the  other  Gospels,  or  t 


iral  tradi- 


same  words  as  John  the  Baptist  (cf.  !'■  and  3'),  a 


JOHN,  GOSPEL  OF 


JOHN,  GOSPEL  OF 


fact  which  must  not  be  forgotten  in  view  of  the 
tendency  to  lind  allegorical  meanings  in  the 
characters  (cf.  1-'  and  4').  It  would  he  strange  if 
the  Evangelist  should  take  so  little  pains  to  distin- 
guish between  characters  known  to  be  historical, 
and  those  that  are  allegorical.  The  realitj'  of  the 
characters  is  witnessed  by  the  words  they  utter. 
It  is  not  stupidity,  but  a  profound  emotion  that 
makes  Nicodemus  speak  as  he  does  in  3^,  when  he 
discovers  that  all  that  he  has  learned  must  be  un- 
learned, and  that  he  must  begin  the  process  of 
human  experience  anew.  He  is  on  the  threshold 
of  a  world  of  facts  as  yet  unrealized  by  him  (S"). 
The  woman  of  Samaria  is  introduced  upon  the 
scene,  amid  real  surroundings,  at  Jacob's  well,  on 
the  road  from  Judaea  to  Galilee.  Her  character  is 
revealed  in  her  nonchalant  air  and  bantering 
mood,  behind  which  she  conceals  an  aching  and 
guilty  heart,  and  is  much  too  true  to  life  for  alle- 
gory. How  can  the  woman  of  Samaria  be  an 
allegory  of  the  Samaritan  Church,  and  her  five 
husbands  symbolize  her  idolatrous  worship?  (so, 
e.g.,  Keim,  Jesus  of  Naz.  i.  159,  note  1 ;  Loisy,  Lc 
Quat.  ivaiigile,  p.  354).  It  is  not  necessary  to 
suppose  that  the  Evangelist  was  present  at  these 
interviews.  It  is  enough  to  remember  that  Christ 
was  present,  and  that  the  Evangelist  is  the  '  disciple 
whom  Jesus  loved,'  -with  whom  confidences  of  that 
kind  would  be  exchanged.  Leaving  for  the  moment 
the  lifelike  characters  of  the  Apostolic  circle,  we 
are  confronted  in  the  closing  scenes  with  a  group 
of  men  that  could  have  been  painted  only  by  a 
contemporary  hand.  The  writer  knows  Caiaphas 
so  well  that  he  is  able  to  reveal  the  man  in  a  single 
sentence  that  fell  from  his  lips  (II'"').  Pilate  is 
depicted,  irresolute,  and  fettered  by  a  guilty  pa.st 
of  oppressive  and  cruel  government.  At  the  critical 
moment,  the  Evangelist  places  in  the  hands  of  the 
people  the  powerful  weapon  of  a  covert  threat  to 
denounce  him  to  the  Emperor  (19'-). 

4.  Relationship  of  the  Evangelist  to  Jesus  and 
the  Apostolic  circle. — It  is  evident  that  the  author 
was  able  in  a  peculiar  degree  to  interpret  the  mind 
of  our  Lord.  He  tells  us  of  His  emotions,  thoughts, 
and  motives  (IV^  IS^'  2'^  i^'^  6'*  13'  18*).  Is  the 
^vriter  identical  with  '  the  disciple  whom  Jesus 
loved '  ?  Jn  21™-  -■*  leaves  us  in  no  doubt.  It  is  an 
entirely  inadequate  interpretation  to  say  that  the 
phrase  is  meant  to  stand  for  '  the  type  of  the  per- 
fect Gnostic,  the  spiritual  witness  of  Jesus'  (so 
Loisy,  Le  Quat.  Ev.  p.  125).  It  is  a  strong  argu- 
ment against  the  view  that  a  purely  ideal  figure  is 
meant,  when  we  note  the  variety  of  the  references. 
His  existence  is  implied  in  1" :  in  13^  lie  is  de- 
scribed as  leaning  on  Jesus'  breast  ;  in  18"*  he  is 
mentioned  as  '  another  disciple  who  was  known  to 
the  high  priest'  It  would  also  be  necessary  to  in- 
terpret the  scene  in  19^°  as  allegorical,  if  the  disciple 
is  not  a  historical  figure.  The  variety  of  the  situa- 
tions shows  that  the  author  had  a  real  per.son  in 
his  mind. 

We  have,  however,  to  explain  the  difficulty  that 
when  the  personality  of  the  Evangelist  is  obtruded, 
he  describes  himself  as  'the  disciple  whom  Jesus 
loved.'  If  tliere  is  an  apparent  lack  of  modesty 
in  the  use  of  the  phrase,  it  may  be  questioned 
whether  tliis  cliarge  would  not  be  equally  relevant 
in  those  ip.iss.i;_.,.v  where  the  Evangelist  confidently 
inter]. i.is  thr  iiniMist  thoughts  of  our  Lord.  The 
fact  lli;U  lie  sliciuM  describe  himself  in  this  indirect 
fashion  at  all  « ill  be  matter  for  discussion  under 
the  question  of  the  historicity  of  the  Gospel.  In 
the  meantime  it  is  sufficient  to  point  out  that  in 
every  case  where  the  phrase  is  used,  the  writer  is 
laid  nnder  the  necessity  of  referring  to  liimself 
individually.  In  13=^  he  explains  the  fact  that  he 
is  lying  on  Jesus'  breast.  And  in  19-'  Jesus  ad- 
dresses him  directly.     Perhaps  in  20-  there  is  the 


suggestion  of  a  thought  in  Mary's  mind  that  the 
disciple  would  tell  the  mother  of  Jesus.  The 
only  alternative  in  these  cases  is  to  use  the  per- 
sonal pronoun  or  to  mention  his  own  name,  a 
course  which  the  Evangelist  systematically  avoids. 
If  ch.  21  is  an  appendix  by  another  hand,  there  is 
no  difficulty  about  the  use  of  the  phrase  in  vv.'-  ™. 

It  is  also  apparent  that  the  author  of  the  Gospel 
stood  in  a  very  intimate  lelationship  to  the  Apos- 
tolic circle.  We  have  miniature  portraits  of 
several  of  the  Apostles,  conveyed  often  through 
questions  they  put.  Philip  throughout  appears  as 
a  man  of  somewhat  practical  and  business-like 
turn  of  mind  (I''*  6^  14*).  Andrew  is  wise,  helpful, 
and  unobtrusive  (!*'  G*- »  12~).  Thomas  is  de- 
spondent :  his  moods  colour  his  outlook,  and  he 
experiences  violent  reaction  (11"*  14^  2(F'*-  '""•). 
Peter  is  over-confident  and  impulsive,  and  at  a 
time  cowardly  (IS'^'^-  ^f-  IS'"*-  '"f).  The  scandal  of 
Judas'  presence  among  the  Twelve  is  referred  to 
as  if  by  one  who  felt  the  shame  of  it  and  was 
eager  to  clear  the  situation  (12*-«  13--  '-^-^  18=).  He 
knows  also  their  places  of  resort  (11"  18=  20'"),  and 
the  thoughts  of  the  disciples  at  critical  moments 
(211.  "•  -'^  4-''  e'"- "»  12'=*  13"-  =»  20^). 

S.  Is  St.  John  the  Apostle  the  author  of  the 
Gospel  7 — Is  he  the  unnamed  disciple  who  is 
identified  with  the  writer  ?  This  unnamed  disciple 
is  called  among  the  earliest  disciples,  and  re- 
members even  the  hour  of  the  day  (P").  He  is 
closely  associated  with  St.  Peter  m  the  closing 
scenes.  We  know  from  the  Synoptics  that  St. 
Peter  and  the  two  sons  of  Zebedee  were  in  specially 
close  relationship  with  Jesus.  St.  Peter  is  out  of 
the  question  ;  St.  James  died  early  ;  only  St.  John 
is  left.  Unless  John  be  the  beloved  disciple,  one 
of  the  'pillar'  Apostles  (Gal  2")  is  never  once 
mentioned  in  the  Gospel,  except  indirectly  in  21=. 
A  very  strong  argument  for  supposing  that  St. 
John  is  meant  may  also  be  founded  on  the  fact  that 
nowhere  does  the  author  refer  to  '  the  Baptist,' 
but  always  to  'John.'  Elsewhere  he  is  very  care- 
ful to  distinguish  names  {e.g.  14==),  but  in  this  case 
he  seems  to  have  thought  that  no  confusion  was 
possible. 

If  St.  John  is  the  writer  of  the  Gospel,  why  does 
he  so  studiously  conceal  his  identity  ?  The  fourth 
Gospel  is  distinguished  from  tlie  Synoptics  by  the 
fact  that,  while  in  them  we  have  a  purely  imper- 
sonal narrative  except  in  the  preface  to  St.  Luke, 
in  St.  John  we  have  a  narrative  where  individual 
experience  ('testimony ')  is  prominent.  Is  it  solely 
because  St.  John  is  himself  the  author  and  writer 
of  the  Gospel,  that  he  sedulously  veils  his  own 
name  ?  Why  was  it  not  possible  for  him  to  in- 
corporate his  own  testimony  in  the  Gospel  without 
keeping  himself  in  the  background  in  such  a  way 
as  really  to  attract  attention  ?  There  must  be  some 
reason  for  this  conduct  other  than  a  modesty  which 
thus  defeats  its  own  end.  It  is  quite  evident  that 
the  authority  of  the  Gospel  for  the  Church  is  re- 
garded as  depending  on  the  fact  that  St.  John  the 
Apostle  wrote  it.  It  is  permissible  to  see  in  21=* 
an  indication  that  it  was  felt  necessary,  even  at 
that  early  date,  to  authenticate  the  position  that 
the  Apostle  John  made  himself  responsible  for 
the  statements  contained  in  this  Gospel.  This  is 
not  because  there  was  doubt  as  to  the  Johannine 
authorship,  but  because  the  Gospel  ditt'ers  so  much 
in  character,  subject,  and  content  from  the  Sjm- 
optics,  which  already  held  the  ground  as  authorities 
for  the  life  and  teaching  of  the  Lord. 

We  shall  be  able  to  find  an  answer  to  these  ques- 
tions if  we  consider  the  two  passages  in  the  Gospel 
itself  that  have  been  most  relied  on  as  direct  state- 
ments of  Johannine  authorship,  (a)  l'*.  In  what 
sense  is  '  we  beheld '  to  be  taken  ?  It  has  been  con- 
tended that  a  seeing  ■with  the  bodily  eye  is  not 


JOHN,  GOSPEL  OF 


JOHN,  CxOSPEL  OI' 


meant,  but  spiritual  vision.     If  we  compare   the 

Parallel  passage  in  1  Jn  1',  there  can  be  little 
oubt  that  the  '  hearing '  and  the  '  handling '  there 
mentioned  demand  the  sense  that  the  '  seeing '  is 
also  literal.  The  presumption  is  in  favour  of 
applying  the  same  interpretation  to  the  passage 
in  the  Gospel.  By  'we'  is  iiiwuit  li.  unmp  of  eye- 
M'itnesses  who  are  associiituil  with  .St.  John  in 
the  statement.  Who  these  -nere  it  is  impossible 
actually  to  determine,  but  perliaps  it  is  unnecessary 
to  limit  the  range  of  '  we '  to  the  circle  of  the 
Twelve.  The  Gospel  shows  that  the  writer  is  in- 
terested in  tlie  testimony,  however  imperfect  it 
may  sometimes  be,  of  many  others  besides  his 
fellow-Apostles.  Clement  of  Alexandria  says  that 
'last  of  all,  John,  perceiving  that  the  bodily  facts 
liad  been  set  forth  in  the  idhrv  Go-pels,  .at  the  in- 
stance of  his  disciples  ami  wilh  tin-  iii-|iiration  of 
the  Spirit  composed  a  siiiritii;il  ( :o-|iel.  With  this 
may  be  compared  tlie  stati/iiHui  m  I  lie  .Muratorian 
Canon:  'It  was  rexealeil  t<>  Amliew,  one  of  the 
Apostles,  that  John  slmnM  nnrate  everything  in 
his  own  name,  sulijeit  to  I  In-  revision  of  the  rest' 
{ut  rccognoscentibus  i-inn-li.^  Jnluinncs  suo  nomine 
cimcta  dcscribcixt).  AVhile  these  statements  may 
not  have  independent  historical  value,  and  may 
themselves  be  based  on  the  internal  evidence  of 
the  Gospel,  and  especially  on  21-^,  surely  they  must 
be  regardeil  as  the  simplest  and  most  direct  inter- 
pretation of  the  facts.  A  group  of  eye-witnesses 
was  concerned  in  the  origin  of  the  Gospel.  We  may 
therefore  otier  the  hypothesis  that,  while  St.  John 
wrote  the  Gospel  .umI  inipresseil  upon  it  his  own 
personality,  thefoiiu  in  wIikH  Iio  expresses  himself, 
the  philosophical  mould  in  wliich  the  writing  is 
cast,  the  Philonic  plua.seuluj^y,  and  the  extra- 
ordinary power  of  analyzing  situations  and  char- 
acters, would  owe  much  to  the  intellectual  environ- 
ment of  Ephesus,  and  in  some  cases  to  direct 
suggestion  on  the  part  of  some  fellow-disciple,  not 
necessarily  one  of  the  Twelve.  The  value  of  the 
Gospel  and  its  authenticity  are  conhrmed  by  the 
fact  that  it  is  the  expression  of  St.  John's  own 
e.Kperience,  attested  by  that  of  his  fellow-disciples 
who  had  seen  the  Lord.  The  purpose  of  the  Gospel 
is  to  treat  the  facts  of  the  life  and  teaching  of 
Jesus  in  such  a  way  as  to  advance  faith  in  the 
hearts  of  those  who  had  not  been  eye-witnesses, 
and  were  therefore  all  the  more  inclined  to  regard 
their  position  in  relation  to  the  '  bodily  facts'  as  a 
loss  and  a  hindrance  to  faith.  So  far  from  this, 
the  climax  of  faith  is  not  to  have  seen  and  yet  to 
believe  ('2021*).  There  would,  no  doubt,  be  men  like 
Thomas  in  the  early  Church,  easily  cast  down,  and 
satisfied  only  Ijy  the  bodily  presence  of  Christ,  to 
whom  all  else  was  unreal.  No  personal  assurance 
was  sufficient  to  convince  them.  St.  John,  there- 
fore, veiled  his  identity,  and  emphasized  the  joint- 
testimony  of  the  group  of  eye-witnesses  to  which 
he  also  belonged.  This  is  also  the  origin  of  the 
impersonal  reference  in  20^"  'These  things  are 
written,'  etc. 

(6)  19!*5-".  Here  is  an  instance  where  the  Evan- 
gelist is  comijelled  to  distinguish  his  own  per- 
sonality from  the  circle  in  whose  name  he  speaks. 
St.  John  alone  of  that  group  was  present  at  the 
Cross  (19-*).  In  this  case  he  has  to  find,  in 
accordance  with  his  principle,  some  means  of 
authenticating  his  testimony.  It  is  interesting  to 
notice  how  this  is  done,  ancl  the  character  of  the 
Gospel  as  not  dependent  on  the  evidence  of  a  single 
testimony  alone  vindicated.  A  threefold  corrobora- 
tion is  adduced,  (a) '  His  witness  is  true '  (a.\-q0i.v6^), 
I.I',  confirmed  by  the  'Spirit  of  truth'  (I4"--'«). 
(/3)  Reference  is  made  to  One  wlio  '  knoweth  that 
lie  saith  true.'  It  is  possible,  but  awkward,  to 
refer  iKeTvot  to  the  Evangelist.  Rather  it  is  meant 
to  denote  Christ  Himseir(cf.  1"*,  1  Jn  S'"  4").  It  is 
VOL.  I.— 56 


so  taken  by  Sanday  {op.  cit.  p.  78)  and  Schmiedel 
(Eneijc.  Bill.  ii.  1809).  This  interpretation  is  as 
old  as  Erasmus.  (7)  The  Scriptures  are  adduced  as 
a  witness,  i.e.  the  witness  of  God  Himself  (\v.^-  ^). 
The  fact  of  the  How  of  blood  and  water  from  the 
pierced  side  can  be  explained  medically,  and  the 
emphasis  is  laid  not  on  the  fact,  but  on  the  interpre- 
tation to  be  put  upon  it.  It  is  a  'sign,'  and  the 
writer  must  have  regarded  it  as  of  peculiar  value 
to  his  readers.  Perhaps  some  form  of  the  Docetic 
heresy  is  aimed  at  (cf.  Haussleiter,  Zivei  Apost. 
Zetigen,  p.  29). 

In  conclusion,  the  Gospel  is  a  genuine  Johannine 
work  from  the  pen  of  the  Apostle,  who  wrote  from 
Ephesus.*  We  cannot,  however,  overlook  the  un- 
doubted fact  that  the  WTiter  is  concerned  to  hide  his 
own  identity,  and  thereby  to  impress  the  fact  that 
the  Gospel  is  not  the  work  of  a  single  individual,  but 
the  testimony  of  a  group  of  eye-witnesses.  With 
John's  as  the  guiding  mind,  tliey  conjointly  made 
themselves  responsible  for  the  statements  contained 
in  the  book.  This  is  at  once  the  oldest  and  simplest 
solution  of  the  problem  of  authorship. 

Two  objections,  on  general  gTounds,  to  the  tra- 
ditional authorship  may  here  be  mentioned. 

1.  Can  a  Galilivan  Jisherman  have  written  this 
Gospel  ? — There  is  no  question  of  NT  criticism 
where  the  need  is  more  imperative  to  rid  ourselves 
of  prejudice  than  this  question  of  the  Johannine 
authorship  of  the  Fourth  Gospel.  It  is  possible  to 
have  a  completely  mistaken  conception  of  the  con- 
nexion between  letters  and  handicraft  in  the  days 
of  the  Apostles.  St.  Peter  and  St.  John  are  de- 
scribed in  Ac  4'"  as  '  unlearned  and  ignorant  men ' 
{dypdiJ.fii.aToi  Kai  Idiwrai).  i5i(ir7)s  marks  a  caste  dis- 
tinction, in  opposition  to  the  learned  or  academic 
clas.ses.  'I'lic  \iso  of  the  vernacular  tongue  by  the 
Apostles  Would  l.c  -utlicient  to  sujjgest  the  expres- 
sion. The  riiai  i>.iir  objection  is,  as  Delitzsch 
reminds  us,  a  deeliiie  from  the  traditional  honour- 
able connexion  between  the  Rabbi  and  the  hand- 
worker {Jcu-i.sh  Aiiisrin  Life,  p.  54).  Zebedee 
owned  his  own  lisliing  vessel,  and  the  presumptuous 
request  of  the  mother  of  Zebedee's  sons  betrays 
a  somewhat  overweening  sense  of  social  position. 
St.  John  was 'known  to  the  high  priest.'  More- 
over, we  too  must  take  knowledge  that  he  '  had 
been  with  Je.sus,'  and  it  would  not  be  easy  to 
estimate,  in  addition  to  the  spiritual  training,  the 
purely  educative  influence  of  companionship  ^\ith 
Jesus  of  Nazareth.  The  over-ardent  spirit  that 
sought  to  call  down  fire  on  a  hostile  S;ini;nitaii 
village,  finds  a  nobler  exiuession  in  ihr  uiiliiuing 
exposure  of  Judas  (Ii!")  and  of  ( ',ii,i|ili;i-.  jr'''-). 
He  who  with  such  in.sight  lets  us  into  the  spiritual 
incapacity  of  Nicodemus,  must  have  been  him.self 
born  again  into  a  new  world,  and  liave  gained  a 
new  outlook. 

2.  Is  it  impossible  that  John,  a  'pillar '  Apostle 
{Gal  2^),  who  sofeivouved  the  claims  of  the  circum- 
eision,  should  also  have  written  such  an  anti- 
Judaic  Gospel  i"  —  Yet  even  then  he  cordially 
recognized,  by  the  giving  of  the  ridit  hand  of 
fellowship,  St.  Paul's  mission  to  the  Gentiles. 
Does  the  love  for  his  own  nation  not  breathe  in 
the  emphasis  he  lays  in  the  Fourth  Gospel  on 
the  tragedy  of  their  rejection  of  Christ?  The 
efl'ect  of  the  destruction  of  Jerusalem  must  \\a.\e 
been  very  great  on  a  mind  like  John's,  and  the 
Gospel  was  written  forty  years  after  that  event. 
None  of  the  other  Evangelists  lays  such  stress  on 
the  teaching  of  events  as  the  Fourth.  In  Ephesus 
also  he  would  breathe  the  atmosphere  of  the 
Pauline  gospel,  full  of  thoughts  of  the  sovereignty 
of  God,  the  condescension  of  tlie  Divine  grace,  and 
the  uni'.-ersality  of  the  gospel  message.     He  who 

*  For  arpiinients  apainst  the  Ephesian  residence,  see  Druui- 
inoud,  Sanday,  Staniori,  and  art.  John  the  Apostlk. 


JOHN,  GOSPEL  OF 


JOHN,  GOSPEL  OF 


beheld  the  awe-inspirinf;  vision  of  the  Risen  Christ 
in  Patraos,  might  well,  in  the  calm  of  later  years, 
write  the  majestic  words  of  the  Prologue. 

III.  Relation  to  the  Syxoptic  Gospels. ~ 
It  is  impossible  to  doubt  that  the  Fourth  Evangelist 
presupposes  tliat  liis  rcailers  are  acquainted  with 
the  contents  i.t  thi-  lii>t  three  Go.spels,  or  that  he 
himself  is  aiquaiiiteil  witli  them.  We  shall  confine 
ourselves  in  this  discussion  to  certain  pointu  of 
diverqcnce  between  John  and  the  Synoptics. 

1.  The  scene  of  the  ministry  of  Christ  is  for  the 
most  jiart  confined  to  Jerusalem.  The  Galila'an 
ministry  is  referred  to  in  2'-  6'-  ^^  7'  21'.  We  are 
not  now  concerned  with  the  demand  for  chrono- 
logical correspondence  with  the  Synoptic  account. 
It  will  be  sufficient  to  show  that  tliere  is  no  incon- 
sistency in  the  prominence  given  in  this  Gospel  to 
the  events  in  Jerusalem.  The  Judiean  ministry  is 
pre.supposed  in  Lk  4",  but  the  reading  is  doubtful. 
Scribes  and  Pharisees  from  Jerusalem  came  to 
atten.l  on  the  Galihean  ministry  (Lk  5",  Mk  3~  7'). 
Juda-  was  a  native  of  Kerioth,  in  Judipa.  The 
friend^hiip  of  .losepli  of  Arimathiea,  who  in  all  pro- 
bability resiilfd  in  .Jerusalem,  has  to  be  explained. 
The  relations  witli  Martha  and  Mary  point  to 
frequent  visits  to  Bethany.  We  have  also  the 
'How  often'!  of  Mt  23"  and  Lk  13=- =«-^,  which 
indicates  not  merel}'  unfulfilled  desire,  but  baffled 
eftbrt.  After  the  Ascension  the  disciples  make  their 
headquarters  in  Jerusalem.  It  is  well-nigh  ini- 
l)ossiDle  to  e.vplain  the  attitude  of  the  authori- 
ties, and  many  incidents  of  the  closing  days  (e.g. 
the  friend  at  whose  house  the  Supper  was  eaten), 
unless  by  the  Johannine  accounts  of  the  visits  to 
.Jerusalem.  The  Synoptics  tell  us  of  only  one  Pass- 
over, but  events  could  nardly  have  ripened  there  as 
they  did  unless  .Tesus  had  been  previously  known 

2.  Certain  incidents  are  omitted  in  St.  John  which 
in  the  Synoptics  are  crises  in  the  life  of  Christ.— 

The  omission  of  the  Temptation  narrative  is  per- 
haps not  strange  in  one  who  knew  the  mind  of 
Jesus  so  intimately.  The  beloved  disciple  would 
be  well  qualified  to  understand  the  parabolic  nature 
uf  the  story.  The  essence  of  the  Temptation  narra- 
tive is  the  possession  of  Dii-ine  power  and  the 
refusal  to  use  it  for  selfish  ends.  Similarly,  Christ's 
freedom  of  action,  especially  in  iv^ai  J  to  ilis  di-atli, 
is  frequently  emphasized  iii  tln^  I'.nntli  (.M-|,f|  ,,i. 
10"-'»).  The  outward  glory  ol  ilir  /,.:/./"'•'/..// 
is  merged  in  a  higher  glory,  vliic  li  i~  ^.■•■n  in  tlie 
communicating  of  Life  and' Light  to  men  (1^).  As 
gards  the  omission  of  the  narrative  of  the  institu- 


tion of  the  Lord's  Supper,  it  was  no  doubt  unneces- 
sary, at  the  time  at  which  the  Gospel  was  written. 


to  repeat  words  that  were  in  common  use  in  the 
Church.  The  inner  meaning  of  the  sacrament  is 
perhaps  displayed  in  ch.  6,  and  throughout  chs. 
13-17.  as  an  a'biding  union  with  Christ,  and  the 
redeini'tiv  .l.atli  is  emphasized  elsewhere  in  the 
Gospi  I  \\  I-  |,o--ilile  that  there  had  been  creeping 
into  till'  (  huirli  -uperstitious  views  of  the  ordinance, 
and  the  iiiulior  is  concerned  both  to  bring  out  the 
spiritual  meanin"  and  to  show  that  the  ideas 
usually  connected  solely  with  the  institution,  of 
eating  and  drinkin';  the  flesh  and  blood  of  Christ, 
were  already  familiar  to  His  disciples.  It  is  the 
washing  of  the  disciples'  feet  in  the  Fourth  Gospel 
to  whidi  a  symbolic  meaning  is  attached  (IS*'"'"). 
The  Fourth  Evangelist  omits  th&Aflony  in  the  Gar- 
den. If  i~  -uj;;:ested  that  he  would  regard  it  as 
inconi|.aiili|.'  with  the  ilignity  of  the  Logos,  and 
daiMa-in-  to  lii,  (  niieeption  of  the  Person  of  C'hrist. 
CerlaiTilv  rlir  <'hii-t  of  the  Fourth  Gospel  retains 
no  trace'of  tli.-  A^miy  when  at  His  wonl  the  Konian 
soldiers  fall  l.a.  k  on  'tlir  -loun.l.  The  Intercessory 
Prayer  also  lin;^''r\c-  -an  inijierial  culm.'  Vet  «'c 
nuist  take  into  account  ~urli  statements  a.-  l-J-'^--". 


and  the  recalling  of  the  very  words  of  the  A"ony  in 
18".  Moreover,  it  is  untrue  to  say  that  the  Fourth 
Evangelist  regards  bodily  weakness  as  incompatible 
with  the  Logos.  Jesus  sits  at  Jacob's  well  tired  and 
weary  (4"),  He  weeps  at  the  grave  of  Lazarus,  and 
thirsts  on  the  cross  (19*).  The  last  passage  gives 
us  a  key  to  the  author's  attitude  in  reference  to  the 
person  "of  Christ.  Jesus  spoke  the  words  in  full 
consciousness  ('knowing,'  etc.,  i.e.  they  were  not 
irrunf/  from  Him),  and  in  speaking  them  fulfils  a 
great  Divine  purpose  ( '  that  the  scripture  might  be 
fulfilled ').  In  his  picture  of  Jesus  upon  earth,  the 
Evangelist  brings  out  in  stron^  relief  attributes  of 
His  Person  which  j)resented  tliemselves  to  him  in 
their  full  significance  only  through  his  experience 
of  the  Risen  Christ.  The  two  conceptions  of  Christ's 
humanity  and  Divinity  are  naively  set  side  by  side 
(cf.  e^^i™  11»- «■  ■"•  •>=). 

The  reverse  side  of  the  question  is  presented  in  the 
miracle  of  the  Raising  of  Lazarus.  Here  the  Fourth 
Evangelist  inserts  an  occurrence  which  is  also  a 
crisis  in  the  last  days,  and  yet  the  Synoptics  do  not 
mention  it.  The  contradiction  is  partly  resolved  if 
we  remember  that  the  Synoptic  account  may  really 
be  reduced  to  one  original  document  closely  corre- 
sjionding  to  our  Gospel  of  St.  Mark,  and  containing 
recollections  of  the  preaching  of  St.  Peter.  Again, 
the  mere  fact  that  a  miracle  of  raising  from  the  dead 
has  been  omitted  need  excite  no  surprise.  Jairus' 
daughter  also  was  dead.  The  difficulty  is  that  the 
miracle  should  be  one  of  such  central  importance 
in  the  working  out  of  the  end.  It  may  be  that  in 
the  preaching  of  the  early  Apostles,  which  is  the 
basis  for  the  oral  tradition  of  the  Synoptics,  the 
incident  would  not  be  dwelt  on,  considering  the 
hatred  provoked  against  Lazarus  himself  (12'°). 
At  all  events,  the  extraordinary  knowledge  dis- 
played by  the  Fourth  Evangelist  of  the  situation, 
in  the  cdosinw  days  at  Jerusalem,  leads  to  the 
presumption  that  he  is  right  in  the  place  he  gives 
to  the  miracle. 

3.  The  date  of  the  Last  Supper.  — All  the 
SjTioptics  agree  in  putting  the  Last  Supper  on  the 
evening  of  '  the  first  day  of  unleavened  bread,'  i.e. 
on  the  evening  which  began  Passover  day,  accord- 
ing to  Jewish  reckoning  (Mt  26"-«',  Mk  14'''-",  Lk 
007.  U)  Thus  the  day  of  the  Crucili.xion  is  the 
Pa-~o\(.r  , lay.  1.1  l.ltli  Xisan.  On  the  other  hand, 
lie  I'ouiili  (';o^|„  1  iv-.ii'ls  the  day  of  the  Crucifixion 
n-  iJ.Mitir:il  Willi  tlc'  ilay  of  Preparation  for  the 
ra^-ovci-  ( r.i"  ■'-'-I.  The  rulers  would  not  enter 
the  Pr.-etoriuin  lest  they  be  prevented  by  defilement 
from  eating  the  Passover  (18=«).  Jn  13'  puts  the 
Supper  'before  the  feast  of  the  Passover.'  Elabo- 
rate and  ingenious  attempts  have  been  made  to 
bring  eitlier  the  Synoptics  into  harmony  with  the 
Fourth  Gospel  or  vice  versa.  No  successful  attempt 
has  yet  been  made  to  reconcile  the  two  accounts 
chronologically,  and  it  does  not  appear  probable 
that  any  solution  can  be  found  in  that  direction. 
The  only  jioints  on  which  all  four  are  agreed  are 
that  our  Lord  suflered  on  a  Friday  (but  see  West- 
cott,  Jntrod.  to  Study  of  Gospels,  p.  322),  and  rose 
again  on  the  following  Sundaj'.  AVe  must  choose 
between  the  Cnicitixion  on  the  14th  Xisan  (John) 
or  on  loth  Nisan  (Synoptics). 

There  are  two  questions  that  call  for  answer.  (1)  Is  this 
Friday  Passover  day  (i.e.  15th  Xisan  according'  to  Jewish 
reckoning  from  sunset  to  sunset)?  (2)  Is  the  Supper  held  on 
the  evening  of  Friday  the  regular  Paschal  meal  ? 

(1)  There  are  various  internal  contradictions  in  the  Synoptic 


JOHN,  GOSPEL  OF 


tond!"This\™'''striit'lv  f'^t '"'^  accompanied  by  an  armed 

of  course,  indicate  that  it  «  Is  '    i  '"'  "'"'     "'"i''  "ouid, 

bably  to  purify  hinisfif  for  u\.-  /■  '"  '  '"""''-  I'ul  more  pro- 
not  easy  to  account  for  the  li;iKi,    .  li      I  '    ,  '     -y;'"!,  it  is 

down  the  body  of  Chri-it  (.Ml  ' J,'lit  to  taiii- 

nnimnent.     Josepli  Imvs  lin'.-  "in  ,'   ,      '"     ''I'^over  was 

tomb,  which  could  scarcely  be  d  ine  "  i>-'  ""  ''"'^^'  '"  ^^^ 
considerations  serve  to  sbiw  I linr  thl"l  •■"'*^°y<^''  ''ay.  These 
iea.st  uncertain.  Thus  there  aretL'  .-^'i^P''*'- ''™°""'^  '«  ^t 
story  that  goto  conflrm  the  cWs  n?  '"^'cat.ons  in  the  Synoptic 
that  Jesus \te  the  Supper  amf,,^^^"^  ""^  Fourth  Gospel 
paration  for  the  pS  "r      Thronh    'i^'''  ""  'I'"  "^"y  "^  ^'<'- 

S^^s;5e,^-to!iIH?F?  «'- 
a^:rrhXs'"tEE:iP  '?^"-^^-" 

of  the  meal  as  a  Passoyer  p'Twl"  m  'i''  '''"  """"'  ^'^^"^'^^ 
that  there  was  some  forebodi,,'' ,,,  ii  "  n  ,  V,  i"',T  ""'''' 
not  celebrate  the  Passover  t,",-  ,,'"""'  "'■","">  "-iM 
«iromw?»PjwcAa?.,quotint,'(i;,,  :,  :  >,  -'  ''  |' 
i^^daoiples  learned  that  Jesus  «,  i  „,,  ,,  :  ',''';  ;  ''"' 
Identified  m  his  mind  the  Cr 


JOHN,  GOSPEL  OF 


883 


Pi,,,  '"."'^  ™"id  the  Crucilixion  wilh  il,  '■;         .    '" 

Paschal  lamb  (i  Co  5?)  If  ti„.  i^  ^  ■  "'  i^^'^nficc  of  the 
anticipate  the  Passover  n.eif  tht  "^S?/,- ''  """""^  ^y  Jesus  to 
have  a,  it.  =.„„'j..°'5.  ""=.":'•  the  shifting  of  the  day  would 


)•  that  the  Fourt 


of  discrepai: 


Hastings' /J^ii.  p.  7uV  Immunol  d  r''"Ir''    '\'"  '''   '"'""' 
artt.  D«Es,  L^sT  Suppk^.  Lords  Si-ppeb^.  '  '''''        "'    '■"'  "'^ 

G-p^'uif^^r^^^ji^-iir^i'" "- ^--t 

tions  of  Christ's  ol,,,-,.    witl,   n,,      :'"~  '"■""''■p''' 
attention  to  His  IVrsor,:     In  11, '  s, ,    .'w  „.'",  l'' 
performed  its  the  outconj,.  ,,f   11     ■""I""'.''"'}    'i 
Jolin  certainly  lavs  sfr,-.ss  ,,.,  n,    '"  ''':'"['['-'•">■     ^1 

the  mira,.Ies,'l,„tl„:  ,.;,„,',       )l"'""''l  •'■^l-ect  of 

motiveof  coiiiin,.!,!,,      i  ^'i  'i    "  "> ''ilook  tlie 

tliehappinc-s',1  ,  ,„.i,  i  ."  '"'"■"'''l  "'n.'  to  add  to 
'Whence  shall  ,,',:  l,„v  l,,)'-,  I  ",'i"'V'';r"  ^'''"'^^'  '-'■"' 
^^aquestionlnlI,,f,,:n,|,,/,;;ii;;''  ';*'"'^'"fy«f  ? 
discoura"in"  -111,1  ,1, ill;,,  ,  -'"'•.  Alter  their 
Jesus  'found'  I    ,,     '    "- ."|'''''' "'"■^  "'itli  the  Jew 

5^4r^'.^r,K!;rr;i''Tr  <'?'""'•  ' 

beinjr interpreted  asa"^^,■l,,l  ,,f ,'',,'  ,,,''-'^i„,  f","  ''^^y** 
tlie  sisters  of  Lazarus  (  M   ,       r       '  '■':'-"""'ate  love  for 

high  claims  of  jesi ,,,;,./,  :;':;,'r,"?,""2^'"  ">« 
;fu-dai  l^*^^?:"!^!^"? 


"^s^f^!  i^oH^'T  ^■•^'•f/"''""'^"  to  exalt  the 

m      ft  hi    IL  f    '     I*  ''''i"'''  "'"^'^  of  Jesus.     If  ,ve 

diiy  his  .statement  .so  far  a.s  to  admit  that  this  is 

•i'-l  (  '  s  Lin  .  •^•■''f '^'^l  '^  man' sent  from 

.sufh  a  w^y'l  \?:fc1h'^^"^  i  mentioLlt 
chari.s.n  on^Hin.  &  ^e' Baptist  n-""""'"^'  "'  ""^ 

IS  Snn  ,,f(;,„l    1  "",      u    ""^  Messiah  (l-'-  ■<=),  and 
^,^1^  l^_  1(1        ).     He  reveals  Hmiself  as  Mes- 

l,.>,.|,„,„„.,,,'  •";""•■'"  "o'nan  (4=«).  A  process  of 
,„„,„  1,,^^  i„-(  ';;;;, '"'i  '-/epre.sented  {e.g.  2^')  as 
r.uisition  is  easv  fi^,"  '  t"e  disciple.s,  and  the 
ia,l  s'i,  (,„,!; '^'  •""'  ■■eraembering  ^yhat  Jesus 
a  Ct  ;. '  '  »^^°n«e'ously  mingling  with  the  actua! 
n  I  ev  1  t  ''•'^P^^ion  of  the  meaning  of  words 
..      es'n  .rrouTrF''  'T'     Moreover,  thi  narrat  ve 

1  liilip    (14-'),    and    the    si.pciilntions    ,,f    M   '  i 


In  this  (i 


account.     Comnare  tho' I'-li-r,     i'  "'4',  *'"^.  '''J'noptic 

for  the  troul.l.'.l  ■,,!!',,,    ^7  '^.''^I'^^'in'l  solicitude 
dietorv  dis,-,„ns,.    ,  ^     ,  '  ,V     '"■^''I'Ips  m  the  vale- 

n^"»,Lk'io^'--/  \  V  ,','!  Vi;  H  ,r,'!i''^"'^  Mt 

certain  hei-htL-nnr,  „l       .:    '  ™it  there  is  ' ; 

when  we  are  told  tlmt  the  n.an  at  Be'^hUd''  f  ^,'"1^'" 

this  Oospel?s;;o"ne'"ncriarin°"that  Si  ";•""'" 
W^.s  an   inferior  kind   JJ"^c/^ 'f I4-H ""^IJ. 

as\L^U!"e'nrw?tVKrZVr  ^f  '■'^''^^' 

has  contended  (Prolog  ,/,.l  ,■/,■,■/,»/.>,;         "'Trpr 
the  &o.spel  is  written  with  the  purp,:,se  ol  cou/uting 


'II     is' it   ii„ri',r''-^  ■/''",■',''■    I'l'-  KS--165)- 
"■I  was  tl„u.  ''M'-'tc.l   that  If  a  Fourth 

■"  hat'  difler;;,,,  a^leiTof ',  'hrH's',  iT'""'  t 

the  audlenoei'ofl^a/fr  ''"  ""  ''ow' Jesus  teu^it 

vidJals,  and  of  ?he^nne  ^ lour^I'dlscTnl"'  '""''^ 
tlie  way  in  %NhicIi  n,,;  !•  "i  ■  ^  disciples,  and 
authorities  at  e  us,  'e  (cf  Dods  7'"  "'%'  '^^.*''« 
Introduction,  pp  (I71  G76)      ^°'^'' •^^^"'*-  ^'•-  ^«*<- 

Al^,Se^":;;r{|  T  ^T^^-Clement  of 

-t  I  ^   ,  Sv,     V          i'"'i      T  'spiritual,' in 

■im,-en,in.:     I        '^'  1  '''''**^  *«  'bodily 

I  cx'tmole"   fi"/''  '"-■^'■'o'ogue  itself  we 

•         e  1,1  iiR.  way  111  winch  statements  of 

II  a.ul  historical  fact  are  characteristi- 

""""^<n,  and  the  Evangeli.st  tells  us  that 

k,„.,>I,:,|         1"Y''"*'."S-   out  of  the  fulness  of   his 

teach  „..' thai  vi"!  ""^'^T°"  ?*'  ^''"'^f'  "'"^  "^  His 

1  tlie  hish.ri.'aMirtlu. '('',!!"',',  I  v*''**  "'®^'  element 

■hl.-h  he  hL'nsrIf' I'Hi  ''  ' ]"j"!- '-"ting facts 

laiinstoheanevc-\\iin.'       i"       1 1      '-"'''''■*'■     He 

notes  of  time  {l=<  ■>'   \>"  u    -     ,  , .   ...    , ; ,'  ] ' T  I!"  ^^^."^ 

hour  of  the  day  is  Mien  1 1 ,'i  ,1   -  i-   .,,  .      :  ■'  '■-,     ,"® 

;^ssion^weeM,^.,|.     This)^ii,»l,-«',^>]e 

down  at  hi-  ,,  .  ■'";,,  -  !  '  ;  i?',,"'']-,,  \''-^"7,'fen 

fragrance,,)   ■  ,    , .  ,,   „,        ...       J  1    '  T'"' *'>« 

personal  inn,,,'-  „,„-.  ,.  ij.i  isMq',      t'i        .     '""'''' 

'  I'     '«  J9'.     lliese  touches 


JOHN,  GOSPEL  OF 


JOHN,  GOSPEL  OF 


are  introduced  spontaneously,  forming  an  integral 
part  of  the  consciousness  of  the  -nriter. 

Again,  it  is  e%'ident  that  a  selection  has  been 
made  out  of  a  number  of  incidents  that  were  avail- 
able (20*'- ").  Incidents  related  in  detail  in  the 
Synoptics  are  implied  (7''-  3^  1^^  ^).  Barabbas  is 
mentioned  without  introduction,  and  the  single 
comment,  '  Now  Barabljas  was  a  robber,'  is  full  of 
suppressed  meaning  (18*).  The  trial  before  Caia- 
phas  Ls  not  described.  Two  great  miracles  are 
related  substantially  as  in  the  SjTioptics  (6'"-')- 
Compare  also  the  Anointing  (12)  and  the  Triumphal 
Entry  (12'2-i5).  The  Trial  scenes  and  the  Cruci- 
fixion corresi^ond  in  the  main  ^vith  the  Synoptics. 
The  Denial  of  Peter  gains  in  verisimilitude  by  being 
broken  up  into  separate  incidents.  The  Baptists 
words  in  3^  are  confirmed  by  Mt  9'^.  The  Baptist's 
ministry  is  implied  in  lO*"-  ■*'. 

(2)  The  Evangelist  describes  himself  not  as  a 
biographer,  but  as  a  '  witness.'  He  brings  forward 
others  as  witnessing.  In  21",  if  the  order  is  sig- 
nificant, 'witnessing'  is  looked  ui)on  as  of  prior 
importance  to  'writing.'  A  governing  idea  in  the 
writer's  mind  is  '  the  truth,'  which  consists  not  in 
historical  fact,  but  in  having  the  mind  brought  into 
tune  with  the  Divine  facts  of  love  and  self-sacrilice. 
The  miracles  are  not  only  actualities  (Iftya),  they 
are  also  signs  [crrnieTa).  The  Evangelist's  mind  is 
specially  open  to  any  suggestion  of  spiritual  truth 
conveyed  bv  the  actual  facts  {e.g.  2"-  ").  Siloam 
is  '  sent,'  tne  sending  forth  of  the  waters  being 
typical,  perhaps,  of  the  Christ  sent  of  God  (9'). 
Judas  goes  out  of  the  light  of  the  upper  room  '  into 
the  night'  (13*").  'It  was  winter'  at  the  Feast  of 
the  Dedication  (I0'~),  symbolizing  the  storm  of 
hatred  and  the  chill  of  indifference  that  met  the 
warmth  of  Jesus'  love.  The  use  made  of  the  sign 
in  19^*-  is  also  typical  of  the  Evangelists  mind. 
The  reflective  character  of  the  writing  is  .seen  in  the 
frequent  use  of  iVa  and  oSn  as  connective  particles. 
He  emphasizes  on  various  occasions  the  doctrine 
of  a  higher  purpose  running  through  the  history 
{e.g.  ipi ;  cf.  '  the  hour,'  2^  etc.  3-''  19^).  This  idea 
of  the  sovereignty  of  God  in  events  is  found  also 
in  St.  Paul,  and  is  not  represented  in  the  Christian 
tradition  solely  by  the  Fourth  Evangelist.  There 
is  also  the  frank  confession  that  the  disciples  failed 
to  understand  some  sayings  and  incidents  at  the 
time,  and  that  only  the  Spirit,  mediated  through 
the  teaching  of  events,  revealed  the  hidden  mean- 
ing {e.g.  2"  12'").  This  is  in  accordance  with  the 
attract  e.\pre<~inn  ..f  tin-  -auie  idea  in  14^. 

It  isimpossil.li-  fully  i..  uii.lerstand  the  author's 
conception  of  hi>toiy  witlmut  taking  into  account 
his  clear  consciou^nes.^  that  the  gift  of  the  Spirit  of 
Truth  must  be  part  of  the  equipment  for  ^mting 
such  a  narrative  as  this  Gospel  (14",  cf.  19^  and  the 
use  of  d\7)9i>'(Ss).  The  theory  of  history  that  is 
exemplified  in  the  Gospel  is  summed  up  in  15'-^-". 
Even  the  situation  of  distress  in  the  Church  at 
the  time  he  WTote  finds  its  interpretation  only  in 
the  prophetic  words  of  Christ  (14=^  16*). 

TiN  itii  :i  conception  of  history  so  far  removed 
from  tli.it  of  till-  iiiore  chronicler,  it  is  not  surpris- 
ing tli;it  tlie  i>cr,-]iective  of  certain  incidents  {e.g. 
the  Clean^inx  of  the  Temple)  has  been  disturbed. 
There  was  a  careful  selection  of  those  events  in  the 
life  of  Christ  that  were  best  fitted  to  illustrate  in 
all  their  varyin"  phases  the  belief  and  unbelief 
called  forth  by  the  Person  and  teachin"  of  Jesus, 
but  the  Evangelist  always  starts  with  what  he  has 
seen  (1").  There  are  some  difficulties  of  seiiueii(;e 
that  would  be  removed  by  giving  a  different  order 
to  the  narrative  ;  e.g.  '  Anse,  let  us  go  hence '  (14^'), 
wherethediscour.se  is  resumed  in  ch.  15.  Again, 
the  discourse  in  7"'"  would  be  eminently  in  [ilace 
at  the  end  of  di.  5.  These  transpositions  miglit 
have  taken  place  through  various  causes  after  the 


document  had  left  the  writer's  hands  (see  Bacon, 
Introduction,  pp.  271-274). 

2.  The  discourses.  —  There  are  differences  in 
style  and  in  length  between  the  discourses  of  Christ 
in  the  Fourth  Gospel  and  those  in  the  Synoptics. 
At  first  .sight  they  seem  far  removed  in  character. 
Yet  nothing  could  be  farther  from  the  truth  than 
to  say  that  the  personal  contribution  of  the  Evan- 
gelist in  the  discourses  is  more  apparent  than  lus 
desire  to  reproduce  the  exact  woixis  of  Jesus,  or 
that  he  makes  use  of  the  Synoptics  in  mechanical 
fashion.  He  has  preserved  one  or  two  isolated 
sayings  (1«  o^  G-'"  13-"-  ^  20^')  which  are  also  found 
in  the  Synoptics,  and  the  discourse  in  5"""  contains 
many  coincidences  of  word  and  thought  with 
Mt  1  !=■'".  (For  other  coincidences  see  TVestcott, 
Ixxxi.).  Yet  there  is  no  sufficient  evidence  to 
warrant  the  hypothesis  that  even  in  these  cases  the 
Evangelist  was  entirely  dependent  on  the  Synoptic 
narratives,  although  it  is  probable  that  ne  hail 
them  before  him.  Even  the  discourses  of  the 
Fourth  Gospel,  when  reduced  to  their  element,s, 
are  full  of  short  and  pregnant  sayings,  such  as  we 
are  accustomed  to  connect  mth  Christ  (see  a  most 
suggestive  collection  in  Drummond,  op.  cit.  p. 
16  ff.).  Discourses  much  longer  than  any  that  are 
found  in  John  are  to  be  found  in  the  Synoptics.  It 
is  true  that  the  style  of  the  discourses  and  the  style 
of  the  Evangelist  are  practically  identical,  but  that 
may  be  partly  due  to  the  fact  that  the  words  of 
Jesus  have  been  translated  from  the  Aramaic. 
The  dialogue  form  is  more  fully  represented  in  the 
Fourth  Gospel  than  in  the  others,  which  would 
rather  make  for  authenticity. 

There  are  indications  in  the  Gospel  that  the 
Evangelist  is  concerned  to  keep  his  own  ideas  sepa- 
rate from  those  of  Christ.  The  actual  Logos  idea 
outlined  in  the  Prologue  is  never  put  into  the 
mouth  of  Christ  except  as  underlying  His  words  in 
certain  cases.  He  keeps  separate  his  own  explana- 
tions of  words  of  Christ  (2>»--'i  12^3  7^).  What  can 
only  be  an  actual  saying  of  Christ  is  represented 
as  liaimting  the  minds  of  the  disciples  m  le'*'"". 
Again,  in  12'"'*^,  in  the  midst  of  a  passage  contain- 
ing his  own  reflexions,  tliere  is  a  summary  contain- 
ing a  free  rendering  of  words  of  Christ  that  are 
repeated  elsewhere  in  the  Gospel ;  14-  would  seem 
to  indicate  that  the  .same  ideas  had  been  expressed 
before,  and  would  be  familiar  to  the  disciples. 

On  the  other  hand,  it  is  clear  that  it  is  not  the 
concern  of  this  Evangelist  to  record  the  precise 
phrase  that  '  once  for  a  moment  ruffled  the  air  of 
Palestine.'  'The  words  that  I  speak  unto  you, 
they  are  spirit,  and  they  are  life'  (6**).  At  one 
point  the  disciples  think  they  understand  clearly 
the  words  they  hear,  but  Jesus  shows  them  theii- 
ignorance  still  (16^*").  The  teaching  by  parables 
ajjpears  only  as  transformed  into  allegory.  In 
10^"''  the  image  and  the  interpretation  are  inextri- 
cably intermingled.  In  some  of  the  discourses  the 
meaning  Is  carried  up  to  a  certain  point,  and  is 
then  repeated  like  a  motif,  as  though  the  Evan- 
gelist sought  to  express  himself  more  clearly  (e.g. 
the  valedictory  discourses).  Tliere  are  some  cases 
where  there  is  doubt  as  to  where  the  words  of 
Jesus  end  and  the  words  of  the  Evangelist  begin. 
It  Is  conceivable  that  a  more  exact  study  of  Ids 
language  would  aftbrd  us  critical  appliances  more 
capable  of  detaching  the  two  eiwnents  than  those 
we  now  possess.  Abbott,  in  his  Joha  n  n  ine  Grammar 
(20666),  lias  suggested  that  where  7dp  is  used  as  a 
connective  it  is  an  indication  that  the  Evangelist  is 
entering  on  his  own  words.  This  would  certainly 
suit  such  ca.ses  as  3'*  4'  5='-=*  =»■  '^.  At  the  -same 
time,  whatever  further  grammatical  study  may 
reveal,  we  must  lie  jirepared  to  regard  the  Johannine 
tradition  of  the  words  of  Christ  as  differing  in 
many  aspects  from  that  of  the  Synoptics.     On  tlie 


JOHN,  GOSPEL  OF 


JOHN,  GOSPEL  OF 


other  hand,  atliuities  are  found  in  earlier  NT 
•writings  witli  the  words  of  Christ  as  reported  in 
the  Fourth  Gospel  (cf.  1  P  S--*  and  Jn  10',  1  P  2-' 
and  Jn  lO'*  ;  also  1  P  I*-  =^  Ro  e'"  and  Jn  8^^  ;  Gal 
5"  and  5*^,  Eph  2'™-  and  Jn  10"^ ;  Fli  2=  and  Jn  10"), 
and  in  all  probability  the  question  of  the  histuiicity 
of  the  words  of  Christ  is  nut  a  problem  peculiar  to 
the  Fourth  Gospel  (see  P.  Ewald,  D,i.-<  Haiiptprvbkiii 
der  Ei;i,i,/r/ir,ifni,/r].  Tlir  clialo.yues  witli  the 
Jews  ill  tills  (h.mh'I  have  taken  <.u  the  abstract 
often  been 
preaching. 


lorin  that  we  slioulil  expe.'t  il  t 
orally  repeated  by  the  Evall^eli^ 
before  they  were  written  tlown.  The  discom'ses 
themselves  are  definitely  connected  with  historical 
situations,  and  may,  In  some  cases,  be  the  expan- 
sion of  fragmentary  reminiscences.  On  the  other 
hand,  the  gaps  in  the  thought  seem  sometimes  to 
point  to  abridgement.  The  problem  is  the  same  as 
in  the  case  of  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount.  The 
valedictory  discourses  have  no  doubt  taken  their 
continuous  form  through  the  welding  together  of 
recollections  of  the  closing  days,  suggested  by  the 
desire  to  make  plain  to  the  early  Church  that 
her  jjresent  condition  of  anxiety  and  distress  was 
anticipated  with  solicitous  forethought  in  the  pro- 
phetic words  of  the  Saviour.  The  prayer  in  ch  17 
is  the  prayer  of  One  who  has  become  the  Great 
High  Priest  of  His  Church  and  of  humanity. 
There  is  no  reason  for  denying  that  the  mind  of 
the  writer  had  a  place  in  the  composition  of  these. 
The  spiritual  equipment  of  the  Evangelist  is  the 
guarantee  for  the  fidelity  of  his  psychological 
attitude  as  a  '  witness,'  and  we  must  be  prepared 
to  trust  not  only  the  man  himself,  but  above  all 
his  peculiar  and  intimate  knowledge  of  the  mind 
of  Christ.  We  may  thus  reverently  examine  the 
material  of  which  his  unique  spiritual  experience 
is  composed,  but  may  well  refrain  from  dividing  a 
seamless  robe. 

LiTEBATDRE.— Full  bibliographies  will  be  found  in  Luthardt, 
St.  John  the  Author  of  the  Fourth  Gospel  (by  C.  P.  Gregory); 
Reynolds  in  Hastings'  DB  ii.  pp.  721-722  ;  a  survey  of  modern 
literature  in  Loisy,  Le  Qxiatriime  Emngile,  p.  36  fl. ;  a  critical 
account  of  recent  literature  in  Sanday,  Criticism  of  the  Fourth 
Gospel,  pp.  1-32. 

1.  The  most  important  works  hostile  to  the  traditional  view 
of  the  authorship  are  :  Bretschneider,  Probabilia,  1820  ;  Strauss, 
Leben  Jesjt,  1836-1840  (mythical  view] ;  Baur,  Die  Kanonischen 
Evangelien,  1847  [date  a.d,  170,  tendency  criticism] ;  Keini, 
Jcsu  mil  Nazara,  1807  [written  by  a  .Jewish  Christian,  110-115, 
under  name  of  .Vpostle  John);  J.  J.  Tayler,  An  Attempt  to 
ascertain  the  Character  of  the  Fourth  Gospel,  1807 ;  Srrper- 
natural  Reliiiion,  1874  [replied  to  by  Lightfoot,  Cont.  Ree.,  Dec. 
1874,  Jan.  1875  ;  Sanday,  Gospels  in  Second  Century ;  Luthardt, 
St.  John  the  author  of  Fourth  Gospel,  1875] ;  Albrecht  Thonia, 
Die  Genesis  der  Johann.  Evang.  1882  [Gospel  an  Alexandrian 
allegory  of  Philonic  character] ;  Oscar  Holtzmann,  1887  [specially 
valuable  for  Jewish  element  in  Gospel] ;  H.  J.  Holtzmann, 
Handcom.  zum  NT,  1893  ;  Jean  RSville,  Le  Quatfiime  Evanriik, 
1901  (unknown  antbor ;  'beloved  disciple'  not  an  individual 
but  an  ideal  type);  Jloftatt,  Historical  NT,  1901;  Schraiedel 
in  Enctfc.  Biht.  ii.  art.  '  John,  son  of  Zebedee,'  and  '  Die  Johann. 
.Schrift'en'  in  ReUrjionsrieschichtliche  Volksbiieher;Wrede,  Char- 
akter  mid  Tendenz,  lf)U3 ;  Loisy,  Le  Quafriem^  Eeangile,  1903. 

2.  A  mediating  position  is  represented  by :  Weisse,  Ev. 
Geschichte,  1838,  Die  Ecan;ietische  Frage.  1856  (discourses  and 
prologue  Apostolic] ;  G.  Weizsacker,  Utltersuchungen,  1864, 
reprinted  1901  [written  tiy  disciple  of  John  ;  narratives  and  dis- 


cTar 


element];  Renan,  Vie  de  .Jesus,  1863  (practically  abandons  the 
historicity  of  discourses,  but  retains  narrative  as  fundamentally 
Johannine];  Hugo  Delflf,  Grundziige  des  Entwickelungs-Geschichte 
d.  Religion,  1883,  Das  vierte  Evangeltum,  and  Nette  Beitrdge, 
1890;  Julicher,  Einleitnng,  1901  (tr.  1904);  B.  W.  Bacon, 
Introduction,  1902 ;  Wendt,  Lehre  Jcsu,  1886,  i.  216-342,  Das 
Johannesevangelium,  1900  (translated)  [a  development  of  the 
partition  theory  of  Weisse  ;  criticised  by  Wauchope  Stewart 
Expositor,  Jan.,  Feb.  1903,  and  Drunni 
Authorship,  pp.  399-404];  Harnack,  Chi 
Litteratur,  vol.  i. 


hife 


Character  of  the  Fourth  G< 
Bible  (from  Contemp.  Ree'' 
johann.  Frage,  1876,  AT  7 
Historical  Introduction,  1 
1881  [classical];  Rejnolfls 
Hastings'  DB;  Watkins, 
valualjle  for  external  evid.- 
der  Ecangelienfrage,  IS'.m 
element  has  a  fundameiil:L 
dition  of  four  Gospels] ;  i'l 
1891  [containing  valuable 
Essays  by  Ezra  Abbot,  A. 

Marcus  Dods,  Expos'  G'r.  Test,  vol 
1899 ;  Drummond,  Character  i 
Gospel,  1903  (very  significant  oi 
of  the  writer;  especially  mi-- 
evidence;    displays    tend,  i 
tation] ;    Stanton,   Gospeh    . 
(external  evidence];  San(l:i\. 
1905  [containing  surveys  anU  t 
valuable  criticism  of  critical  m 
und  Streitfragen,  '  Das  Johann 
1903. 


1897 ;  Zahn 


Vie,  etc.;  Sabatier,  Essai  s 
Godet,  Introd.  and  Com.  (1864,  tr.  1 
1901)  (still  most  valuable  in  every  dii 
Essaps  Theological  and  LiUrary,  1 
credibility  against  Baur] ;  Sanday,  A 


)/  the   Fourth 

\r^'x  to  ttf  theological  position 
■m.    Ill  iiiitnient  of  e.xternal 
IN     ill.  L,-orical    intert)re- 
"  '      l'.«„ments,   i.   1903 

1.1. r  w  <i  thy  Fourth  Gospel, 
uniaLt.^  ..I  iv'ceiit  theories,  and 
thodsj ;  Barth,  Biblischen  Zeit- 
evang.  und  die  Synopt.  Evang.' 

The  series  of  volumes  by  Edwin  Abbott,  entitled  '  Diates- 
sarica '  (esp.  From  Letter  to  Spirit,  1903 ;  Johannine  Vocabu- 
lary, 1905 ;  Johannine  Grammar,  1906),  contains  much  fresh 
matter,  suggested  by  an  elaborate  study  of  the  language  of  the 
Fourth  Gospel. 

Among  articles  in  magazines  may  be  mentioned  W.  Milligan 
in  Contemp.  Review  (Sept.  1867,  Aug.  and  Nov.  1868),  and 
British  and  Foreign  Evangelical  Revtew  (Oct.  1871)  [directed 
against  Baur  and  his  school] ;  Schiirer,  Contemp.  Review,  1891 
[a  review  of  the  position  of  the  problem  ;  replied  to  by  Sanday, 
Oct.  1891] ;  Bacon,  Hibbert.  Journal,  April  1903,  Jan.  1904,  1905 
[has  developed  theory  of  editorship  by  author  of  1-3  Jn.  and 
ch.  21] ;  three  important  articles  on  conservative  side  by  an 
anonymous  writer  in  the  Church  Quarterli/  Review,  1905-1906. 
The  monograph  by  Schwarz,  (feber  den  Tod  der  Sohne  Zebedcei, 
1904,  while  completely  hostile  to  the  traditional  view,  is  valuable 
for  certain  portions  of  the  external  evidence. 

K.  H.  Strachan. 

JOHN,  GOSPEL  OF  (II. :  Contents).—!.  Character 
of  the  Gospel. — The  interesting  fragment  of  Euse- 
bius  (HE  vi.  14),  quoted  from  the  lost '  Outlines '  of 
Clement  of  Alexandria,  gives  us  the  earliest  view 
which  was  taken  of  the  Fourth  Gospel.  '  John, 
last,  having  observed  that  the  bodily  things  had 
been  set  forth  in  the  [eai  li.i  ]  (  e.^jiels,  and  exhorted 
theict.i  liy  bis  fiiiiuK  ,ni.l  iiis|inv,l  by  the  Spirit, 
produced  a  .ijiiril icil  (  eisiiil.  '!  In'  «ord  'spiritual,' 
or  'pneumatic,'  is  here,  .is  usually  with  the  Alex- 
andrians, opposed  to  'bodily,'  or  'somatic'  And 
what  the  ditterence  was,  as  regards  the  records  of 
the  past,  is  shown  admirably  by  Origen's  comment 
on  Jn  2'^.  He  says  that  if  all  the  four  Gospels  are 
to  be  believed,  the  truth  of  them  cannot  be  in 
their  'bodily  characters,'  but  in  their  spiritual 
meaning.  The  Gospels,  he  says  elsewhere  (dc 
Princ.  4),  contain  many  things  which  are  said  to 
have  hajipened,  but  which  did  not  happen  literally  ; 
and  in  one  place  of  Ids  Conmientary  on  St.  John 
he  says  that  when  the  writers  of  Holy  Scripture 
were  unable  to  speak  the  truth  '  at  once  spiritually 
and  bodily'  (i.e.  at  once  literally  and  with  a 
deeper  symbolical  or  allegorical  meaning),  it  was 
their  practice  to  prefer  the  spiritual  to  the  cor- 
poreal, 'the  true  spiritual  meaning  being  often 
preserved  in  the  corporeal  falsehood '_  (irui'o/iivov 
woWdKis  TOO  aXtjSou!  TrvevfiaTiKoO  iv  t(^  a-ufnaTiKi} 
^evSei).  So  Epiphanius  says  of  St.  John's  Gospel : 
'  most  of  the  things  spoken  by  him  were  spiritual, 
the  fleshly  things  having  been  already  attested' 
{ffcer.  Ii.  19). 

These  passages  are  very  important  for  the  study 
of  the  Fourth  Gospel.  They  are  evidence,  not,  of 
course,  for  the  author's  method  of  composition,  but 
for  what  was  thought  of  tlie  Go.spel  in  the  latter 
part  of  the  2nd  cent,  and  the  first  half  of  the  3rd, 
that  is  to  say,  as  soon  as  it  was  widely  known. 
It  was  accepted  as  'a  spiritual  Gospel,'  and  by 
spiritual  was  meant,  not  devotional,  ethical,  and 
philosophical,  but  allegorical  as  opposed  to  barely 
historical. 

The  distinction  between  the  two  modes  of  treatment  was 
familiar  at  Alexandria,  and  had  been  familiar  long  before  the 
Fourth  Gospel  was  wTitten.    Philo  compares  the  literal  mean- 


JOHN,  GOSPEL  OF 


JOHN,  GOSPEL  OF 


spiritual  to  the 


ul.  Ue  applies  this 
■ith  j,'reat  thorough- 
ness. To  the  literal  truth  of  aiieii-iu  sacred  histor,\  he  is  very 
indifferent.  Particular  events  are  important  only  in  proportion 
to  their  universal  si^'nificjTice.  To  ijrasp  the  truth  of  a  narra- 
tive is  to  see  its  relation  to  universal  spiritual  law  or  fact.  He 
would  have  considered  the  laborious  investigation  of  historical 
detail  to  be  merely  learned  trifling,  worthy  only  of  a  grammarian 
or  a  pedant.  Moral  edification  and  gnosis  were  the  only  objects 
for  which  it  was  at  all  worth  while  to  trouble  about  the  records 
of  the  pa.st. 

We  have,  of  course,  no  right  to  as.sume  that  the 
2nd  cent,  was  right  in  classing  the  Fourth  Gospel 
as  a  '  spiritual '  work.  We  shall  have  to  consider 
its  allegorism  in  detail  before  we  can  pronounce  on 
its  relation  to  history.  But  it  should  be  perfectly 
obvioiLS  that  its  author  did  not  mean  it  to  be 
studied  as  a  i)lain  historical  narrative.  He  would 
probably  have  said  that  he  had  a  higher  aim  than 
to  record  trivial  details,  some  of  which  had  no 
spiritual  meaning.  The  Gospel  is,  and  claims  to 
be,  an  interpretation  of  our  Lord's  Person  and 
ministry,  an  ideal  construction  which  aims  at  pro- 
ducing a  certain  impression  about  the  Person  of 
Christ.  This  impression  is  to  be  the  true  inter- 
pretation of  the  historical  Jesus— the  author  is 
infinitely  anxious  about  this.  He  is  >vriting  no 
mere  historical  romance,  like  the  Life  of  ApoUonius 
of  Tyana,  which  was  afterwards  concocted  as  a 
rival  to  the  Gospels.  He  is  no  Docetist,  as  is  shown 
by  several  passages  in  the  Gospel,  and  more  cate- 
gorically in  1  John,  which,  if  not  by  the  same 
author,  is  in  closest  connexion  with  the  Gospel. 
But  a  very  .sUght  critical  investigation  is  enough 
to  show  that  he  allows  himself  a  free  hand  in 
manipulating  the  facts  on  which  he  is  working. 
It  is  perfectly  honest  history,  as  history  was  under- 
stood by  the  ancients.  But  even  the  most  scientific 
of  ancient  historians  did  not  scruple  to  put  his  own 
views  of  the  political  situation  into  the  mouths  of 
the  chief  characters  in  his  period  ;  and  among  the 
Jews  the  composer  of  a  mggadah  had  no  fear  of 
being  branded  as  a  romancer  or  a  forger. 

The  plan  of  the  Gospel  is  clearly  stated  in  20*'-  3', 
an  impressive  passage  which  was  intended  to  be 
the  conclusion  of  the  book,  and  was  so  until  the 
appendix  was  added.  The  object  here  avowed  is 
strictly  adhered  to  throughout.  No  other  book  of 
the  NT  is  so  entirely  dominated  by  one  conception. 
The  theology  of  the  Incarnation,  taught  in  the 
form  of  a  historical  narrative,  with  an  underlying 
framework  of  symbolism  and  allegory,  which, 
though  never  obtruded,  determines  the  whole 
arrangement  and  selection  of  incidents — this  is  the 
topic  of  the  Fourth  Gospel.  And  unless  it  is  read 
in  the  light  of  this  purpose,  and  with  a  due  recog- 
nition of  the  peculiar  method,  the  se\en  seals  of 
the  Apocalypse  ^vill  remain  set  upon  the  '  spiritual 
GospeL' 

Different  opinions  have  been  held  as  to  the 
readers  wliom  the  writer  has  mainly  in  view. 
Kevillc  thinks  tliat  'the  author  has  wished  to 
prove  to  hi-  ( (intiniporaries  who  had  remained  in 
the  liberal  and  |iliil(i>ophieal  Judaism  of  the  Dias- 
pora, that,  ill  .le>ii-  (  liri-t.  the  revelation  of  the 
Logos,  admitted  l.y  ihem  in  the  OT,  has  its  full  and 
definitive  fullilment.  Hut  tlie  Gospel  is  not  an 
apologia  writt'ii  fur  the  .lews.  The  extremely  un- 
conciiiatory  tone,  used  throughout  in  speaking  of 
them,  is  enough  to  disprove  this  hypothesis.  There 
is  a  subordinate  element  of  apologetic,  but  the 
main  object  is  clearly  to  edify  and  teach  the  faith- 
ful, not'  to  convert  the  unbeliever.  The  author 
never  descends  to  his  opponents'  ground,  but  re- 
mains throughout  on  his  own.  His  aim  is  didactic, 
but  not  exactly  dogmatic.  He  -wishes,  not  to  prove 
a  theological  thesis,  but  to  confirm  and  perfect  the 
believer  in  his  adhesion  to  Christ  as  the  Incarnate 
AVord,  the  principle  of  spiritual  regeneration,  and 
the  nourishment  of   'eternal'   life.     This  is  the 


foundation  of  his  own  faith,  and  the  characteristic 
Johannine  ideas  are  the  intellectual  form  of  this 
faith,  which  is  centred  in  the  unio  mystica.  There 
is  no  sign  of  a  polemic  against  Docetism,  Ebionism, 
or  against  Cerinthus.  Still  less  is  he  \mting  against 
liberalized  Judaism,  as  Eeville  seems  to  suggest. 
Whatever  was  his  attitude  towards  PhUo  (and  the 
question  is  not  an  easy  one  to  answer),  it  was  not 
one  of  conscious  antagonism. 

The  author,  then,  is  WTiting  for  Christians.  But 
for  what  Christians  ?  It  has  often  been  maintained 
or  a.ssumed  that  his  object  Is  to  teach  a  pliilosophy 
of  religion — that  he  is,  in  fact,  the  ivuthor  of  the 
formula  'Je.siLs  Christ,  the  promised  Messiah  of 
the  Jews,  is  the  Incarnate  Logos  of  God.'  But  this 
view  Ls  untenable.  There  is  no  systematic  philo- 
sophy in  the  Gospel — not  even  in  the  Prologue. 
AiKTbesido,  the  Logos  theology  was  not  new.  It 
is  nut  proiiouiided  as  new  in  the  Gospel ;  and  it 
exists  in  substance  in  St.  Paid's  Epistles,  as  well 
as  in  the  Hebrews.  There  can  be  little  doubt  that 
Apollos,  the  learned  Jew  of  Alexandria,  made  this 
identification  in  his  preaching,  which  was  so 
mightily  convincing.  For  at  this  time  '  Logos '  was 
as  familiar  a  term  to  all  educated  persons  as 
'  Evolution '  is  to  our  own  generation. 

The  Gospel  is  not  a  philosophical  treatise.  Is  it, 
then,  an  attempt  to  mediate  between  two  parties 
in  the  Church,  between  the  ad\'ocates  of  '  Faith  ' 
and  '  ICnowledge,'  of  Gnosis  and  Pistis !  The  con- 
flict between  these  two  parties  was  acute  at  the 
end  of  the  2nd  cent.,  as  we  see  from  the  caution 


imposed  upon  Clement  of  Alexandria  by  < 

by  the 

[1st  ph 
.\t  that  period  Gnosticism  had  gained  a  footing 


prejudice,  and  on  the  other  side  by  the  diatribes 
of  the  obscurantist  TertuUian  against  philosophy? 


within  the  Church,  and  orthodoxy  had  become 
alive  to  the  dangers  which  threatened  the  Chris- 
tian religion  from  this  side.  The  intellectualists 
were  even  strong  enough  to  drive  Montanism  out 
of  the  Church.  During  the  first  quarter  of  the  2nd 
cent,  the  gieat  Gnostics  were  outside  the  Chuich, 
and  the  chief  danger  was  that  the  party  of  ^iXi; 
TricTTis,  ignorant  and  superstitious,  with  material- 
istic notions  of  religion  and  hopes  of  a  coming 
reign  of  the  saints,  might  make  the  position  of  the 
Christian  philosopher  impossible,  and  drive  him  into 
the  arms  of  the  Gnostics.  Moreover,  at  the  time 
when  the  Gospel  was  written,  the  inadequacy  of 
both  presentations  of  Christianity  was  becoming 
apparent.  The  primitive  revivalism  was  decaying  ; 
the  liopes  of  a  Parousia  were  growing  faint ;  while, 
on  the  other  hand,  Docetism  and  the  fantastic 
schemes  of  the  Gnostic  party  were  visibly  tending 
to  discard  the  Gospel  m  favour  of  a  barbarized 
Platonisni.  The  author  of  this  Gospel  interposed 
his  powerful  influence  to  save  Christianity  from 
being  either  swamped  in  a  mythology  or  subli- 
mated into  a  theosophy.  'The  Jews'  demanded 
miracles,  '  the  Greeks '  a  philosophy ;  this  Gospel, 
like  St.  Paul,  presents  both  with  '  Christ  the  power 
of  God  and  the  wisdom  of  God '  (I  Co  1--=^).  The 
author  addresses  himself  chiefly  to  the  Faith-party, 
who  most  needed  teaching.  He  tries  to  recall 
tliem  to  real  history,  by  subtly  spiritualizing  the 
miraculous  narratives,  to  which  they  attributed 
too  much  importance,  and  brinpng  out  their  ethical 
and  spiritual  significance.  He  never  makes  the 
slightest  attempt  to  rationalize  a  miracle, — on  the 
contrary,  the  miracles  whicli  he  records  are  more 
startling  than  anything  in  the  Synoptics,— but  no 
stress  is  laid  on  any  physical  portent  as  momentous 
,  or  as  evidence. 


part  from  its 


in  and  for  itself,  or  as  evidence,  apart  irom  its 
symbolical  value  as  a  type  of  the  Person,  work, 
and  office  of  Christ.  This  design  of  spiritualizing 
the  tradition  is  kept  in  view  throughout ;  but  it  is 
carrieil  out  so  subtly  and  quietly  that  it  has  often 
been  overlooked. 


JOHN,  GOSPEL  OF 


JOHN,  GOSPEL  OF 


A  glance  at  one  of  tlie  old-fashioned  '  Haiiuunies ' 
of  the  four  Evangelists  makes  us  realize  how  few 
of  the  events  of  our  Lord's  life,  before  the  last 
few  days,  are  recorded  by  the  Synoptists  and  also 
by  St.  John.  And  even  the  few  common  elements 
are  employed  ilill'erently,  and  in  ditterent  settings. 
There  are  notable  and  irreconcilable  differences  in 
the  chronology,  including,  as  is  well  known,  a  dis- 
crepancy as  to  the  date  of  the  Crucifixion.  The 
development  of  Christ's  mission  is  diflerently  con- 
ceived, the  Johannine  Christ  making  the  most 
e.xalted  claims  to  equality  with  the  Father  near  the 
beginning  of  His  career,  and  in  the  presence  of  His 
enemies  (2'"  6^"  8°*  etc.),  whereas  in  the  Synoptics 
the  question  and  answer  at  Caisarea  Philippi  are 
clearly  intended  to  be  of  crucial  importance  (Mt 
le""'-  II).  The  form  and  substance  of  the  discourses 
are  also  very  different,  the  Christ  of  the  Synoptics 
speaking  as  a  man  to  men,  as  a  Jew  to  Jews  ;  con- 
veying His  message  in  pithy  aphorisms,  easily 
understood  and  rememliered,  and  in  homely  para- 
bles, adapted  to  tlie  cumprehension  of  country  folk. 
These  discourses  are  directed  rather  to  bringing 
men  to  tlie  Father,  and  to  righteousness  and  con- 
sistency of  life,  than  to  inculcating  any  doctrines 
about  His  own  Person  ;  sometimes  He  expresses 
His  attachment  to  the  Law,  and  repudiates  any 
intention  of  abrogating  it.  Our  Evangelist,  on  the 
other  hand,  represents  Jesus  as  taking  part  in  long 
polemical  disputations  with  '  the  Jews,'  who  are  as 
much  His  enemies  as  they  were  the  enemies  of  the 
Christian  Church  80  years  later  ;  the  parables  have 
disappeared,  and  tlieir  place  is  taken  by  '  proverbs ' 
or  symbolic  language ;  and,  above  all.  His  whole 
teaching  is  centred  upon  faith  in  and  devotion  to 
Himself.  The  emphatic  iyiii  occurs  15  times  in  St. 
Matthew,  117  times  in  St.  John.  Many  facts  to 
wliich  our  Evangelist  attaches  i^rcal  iiiiiicirtance 
are  completely  stnange  to  the  Syiujptic  trailitiun. 
Such  are :  the  marriage  in  Cana  of  Cialilee,  with 
which  the  public  ministry  opens  ;  the  conversation 
with  the  Samaritan  woman ;  the  healing  of  the 
paralytic  at  the  pool  of  Bethesda  ;  the  incident  of 
the  man  born  blind ;  the  raising  of  Lazarus,  which  in 
St.  John's  Gospel  appears  to  have  been  tlie  imme- 
diate cause  of  the  plot  against  the  life  of  Jesus ; 
the  washing  of  the  disciples'  feet  at  the  Last 
Supper  ;  the  conversation  with  Pilate  at  the  trial  ; 
the  presence  of  the  beloved  disciple  and  Mary  at 
the  Cross ;  the  appearance  to  Tliomas  after  the 
Resurrection.  On  the  other  hand,  the  writer  of  the 
Fourth  Gospel  omits  the  genealogy  and  the  birth 
from  a  virgin,  because  it  could  be  of  no  interest  to 
liim  to  prove  that  Jesus  (or  rather  Joseph)  was 
descended  from  king  David,  and  the  Incarnation 
of  the  Logos  is  a  far  grander  coiiiciition  than  a 
miraculous  birth  by  the  oiiLiatiini  of  the  Holy 
Ghost;  he  omits  the  Baptism  of  .Icsus,  of  which 
notwithstanding  he  sliows  kiiuwlcMlgc,  because, 
again,  the  true  liaptiMii  is  tlii'  liicaiiiatimi  of  the 
Logos  in  Jesus,  aii.l  al-u  pailly,  i)(  rhaps,  liccause 
he  is  anxious  In  discdunti'iKiiicc  tlic  Ailuptiuuist 
views  of  the  I'ersou  of  Cliiist  which  were  prevalent 
at  the  time  when  he  wrote  ;  he  omits  the  Tempta- 
tion, because  it  is  no  part  of  his  plan  to  exhibit 
Jesus  as  experiencing  any  temptation  or  weakness  ; 
he  omits  the  Transfiguration,  because  in  liis  view 
the  whole  life  of  Christ  on  earth  is  a  manifestation 
of  His  glory,  not  by  visible  light  but  to  the  spiritual 
eye ;  he  omits  the  institution  of  the  Eucharist, 
because  he  has  already  given  his  sacramental 
doctrine  in  his  discourse  about  the  Bread  of  Life 
(Jn  6^""),  following  the  miracle  of  the  5000,  and 
does  not  wish  the  truth  of  the  mystical  union  to  be 
bound  up  too  closely  with  the  participation  in  an 
ecclesiastical  rite ;  he  omits  the  Agonv  in  the 
Giirden  of  Gethsemane,  and  the  cry,  '  Eli,  Eli,  lama 
sabachthani,'   because    the    impression   which  he 


wishes  to  convey  of  the  complete  voluntariness  of 
Christ's  sulli.'rings  and  death,  and  of  the  'glory' 
which  Mas  manifested  by  His  humiliation  as  well 
as  by  His  Inumjih  over  death,  might  be  imimired 
by  incidents  w  Inch  seem  to  indicate  human  weak- 
ness and  hesitation ;  and,  lastly,  he  omits  the 
Ascension  and  the  descent  of  the  Paraclete,  be- 
cause he  does  not  wish  the  withdrawal  of  Christ's 
bodily  presence,  and  the  continuation  of  the  Incar- 
nation in  another  more  spiritual  form,  to  be  asso- 
ciated with  physical  portents,  or  to  be  assigned  to 
particular  days. 

There  can  be  no  question  that  these  omissions 
are  deliberate,  and  not  the  result  of  ignorance. 
Those  who  wish  to  discredit  any  of  the  narratives 
which  appear  in  the  Synoptics,  cannot  rightly  draw 
any  inferences  from  St.  John's  silence.  Such 
features  of  the  Christian  tradition  as  the  Birth  at 
Bethlehem  and  the  Ascension  must  have  been  well 
known  by  any  well-instructed  Christian  at  the  be- 
ginning of  the  2nd  cent.,  and  there  are  no  signs 
that  our  Evangelist  wishes  to  correct  his  pre- 
decessors from  tlie  standpoint  of  one  who  has  had 
access  to  better  information.  Not  only  are  in- 
cidents like  the  Baptism  referred  to  incidentally 
(F=),  but  an  attempt  is  made  to  provide  substitutes 
for  several  of  the  omitted  narrati\'es.  Instead  of 
tlie  Davidic  ancestry  of  Joseph,  we  have  the  eternal 
generation  of  the  tiovoyevi)^  ;  instead  of  the  Lord's 
Prayer,  taught  to  the  disciples,  we  have  the  High- 
Priestly  prayer  of  cli.  17,  in  wliich  almost  every 
clause  of  the  Loril's  Pi-ayer  is  represented,  tliough 
in  each  case,  except  the  last  ('Deliver  ns  from  the 
evil  one '),  the  petition  is  changed  into  a  statement 
that  the  work  has  been  done,  the  boon  conferred. 
The  institution  of  Bantism  is  represented  by  the 
discourses  with  Nicoaemus  and  the  Samaritan 
woman ;  that  of  the  Eucharist  by  the  miracle  in 
ch.  6  and  the  discourse  on  the  Bread  of  Life  which 
follows  it.  The  Transfiguration  is  represented  by 
the  voice  from  heaven  in  12-''-  ^ ;  while  the  pre- 
ceding verse  (which  should  be  printed  as  a  question, 
'  Shall  I  say.  Father,  save  me  from  this  hour?')  is 
intended  to  compensate  us  for  the  loss  of  the  Agony 
in  the  Garden.  Lastly,  the  words  to  Thomas  in 
2029— the  ]ast  beatitude— more  than  reconcile  us  to 
the  loss  of  any  description  of  the  Ascension. 

The  number  of  miracles  is  much  reduced ;  but 
those  which  are  given  are  reiiresentative,  and  in 
some  cases  are  more  tremendous  than  those  of  the 
Synoptics.  The  healing  of  the  son  of  Herod's 
official  (4*"'-)  is  the  only  miracle  which  has  the  true 
Synoptic  ring  ;  in  the  others  no  '  faith '  is  required 
in  those  who  are  to  benctit  by  the  sign,  and  the 
object  seems  to  be  to  manifest  some  aspect  of 
Christ's  Person  and  work.  In  the  marriage  at 
Cana,  the  feeding  of  the  multitude,  the  healing  of 
the  blind  man,  and  the  raising  of  Lazarus,  the 
Evangelist  himself  tells  us  the  spiritual  meaning 
of  the  miracle,  in  words  spoken  either  by  the  Lortl 
Himself  or  by  some  one  else. 

There  is,  howe\er,  a  great  deal  of  symbolism  in 
the  Gospel  which  is  unexjilained  by  the  author, 
and  unnoticed  by  the  large  majority  of  his  readers. 
The  method  is  strange  to  us,  and  we  do  not  look 
out  for  allegories  which  would  be  at  once  under- 
stood by  Alexandrians  in  the  2nd  century.  A  few 
examples  are  necessary,  to  justify  the  view  here 
taken  that  symbolism  or  allegorism  pervades  the 
whole  Gospel.  In  1-'  John  the  Baptist  designates 
Christ  'the  Lam)i  of  God,'  with  clear  reference  to 
the  Paschal  sacrifice.  Tlie  prophetic  type  of  the 
Paschal  lamb  dominates  the  whole  of  the  Passion 
narrative  in  St.  John.  Even  the  date,  it  would 
appear,  is  altered,  in  order  that  Christ  may  die  on 
the  day  when  the  Paschal  lambs  were  killed.  The 
change  of  the  '  reed '  of  the  Synoptics  to  '  hyssop ' 
seems  to  have  been  made  with  the  same  object. 


JOHN,  GOSPEL  OF 


JOHN,  GOSPEL  OF 


when  we  remember  the  ritual  use  of  hyssop  at 
the  Passover.  The  Gospel  ahounds  in  enigmatic 
utterances,  such  as  '  Thou  hast  kept  the  good  wine 
until  now '  (2"") ;  '  It  is  expedient  that  one  man 
should  die  for  the  people'  (11*');  'Judas  went 
immediately  out,  and  it  was  night'  (IS**) ;  in  wliicli 
the  reader  :s  plainly  meant  to  see  a  double  meaning. 
The  symbolism  is  often  in  three  stages.  The  text 
presents  an  apparent  sense,  which  is  in  figure  a 
second,  which  in  turn  points  to  a  third  and  still 
deeper  signification.  Especially  in  the  narrative, 
a  prophetic  utterance  quoted  from  the  OT  is  some- 
times the  intermediate  stage  in  this  allegorical 
construction.  The  type  of  the  Paschal  lamb  comes 
as  it  were  between  the  literal  feeding  of  the  5000 
and  the  idea  that  Christ  gives  His  life  to  take 
away  the  sin  of  the  world,  and  that  He  may  be  our 
spiritual  food  and  sustenance.  The  words  quoted 
from  the  Psalms,  '  the  zeal  of  thy  house  shall  eat 
me  up,'  come  in  like  manner  between  the  cleansing 
of  the  Temple  at  Jerusalem  and  the  idea  of  the 
glorification  of  Jesus  as  the  building  of  the  true 
Temple,  the  body  of  Christ,  the  Church.  There 
are,  we  might  venture  to  say,  three  temples  in  the 
mind  of  the  Evangelist — the  material  ti.'iii|.lc  built 
by  Herod,  the  temple  of  Cliri.-t  ,  naiural  Imdy, 
which  was  to  be  destroyed  and  rai^L'i I  up  ■  in  three 
days,'  and  the  temple  which  Ls  the  s]iiiitual  liody 
of'Clirist — namely,  the  Church.  Similarly,  in  7^^ 
the  quotation,  '  out  of  his  belly  shall  flow  rivers  of 
living  water,'  comes,  as  it  were,  between  the  thrust 
of  the  lance  and  the  eflusion  of  the  Holy  Spirit  on 
the  disciples  and  the  Chmch. 

But  the  most  remarkable  part  of  the  allegoric 
method  is  that  connected  with  numbers.  There 
can  be  no  doubt,  in  the  opinion  of  the  present 
writer,  that  the  Philonic  method  of  playing  with 
numbers  had  a  strong  fascination  for  our  Evan- 
gelist. The  examples  are  far  too  numerous  to  be 
accidental.  The  number  7  recurs  in  the  number  of 
the  miracles  (omitting  ch.  21  from  our  calculations), 
in  the  number  of  solemn  declarations  beginning  '  I 
am ' ;  in  the  number  of  '  witnesses '  borne  to  Christ, 
and  perhaps  in  other  places.  The  officer's  son  is 
healed  at  the  seventh  hour ;  the  paralj'tic  on  the 
seventh  day.  It  is  thorouglily  in  accordance  with 
the  method  of  the  Evangelist,  that  he  avoids  the 
word  e?rrd,  just  as  he  avoids  the  two  crucial  words 
■yvCidis  and  ttio-tis,  which  had  become  watchwords  of 
parties.  As  for  tlie  number  3,  perhaps  too  mucli 
ingenuity  has  been  shown  in  cutting  up  the  whole 
Gospel  into  arrangements  of  3  ;  but  unquestionably 
the  book  does  lend  itself  very  readily  to  such  classi- 
fication, and  the  fact  that  it  is  concealed  rather 
than  obtruded  is  in  accordance  with  what  seems  to 
have  been  the  method  and  design  of  the  writer. 
With  regard  to  higher  numbers,  the  extreme  pre- 
cision of  the  Evangelist  must  excite  su.spicion  of  an 
allegorical  motive ;  and  when  we  find  that  38,  40, 
and  153  can  be  plausibly  explained  on  Philonic 
principles,  the  suspicion  becomes  almost  a  certainty. 
For  example)  the  153  fish  may  be  the  '  fulfilment ' 
of  10-1-7;  l-f2-(-3-t-  .  .  .  -fl7  =  153;  or,  as  Bishop 
Wordsworth  suggests,  it  may  be  the  square  of  12  + 
the  square  of  3.  It  is  said  that  200  (Peter  is  200 
cubits  from  the  land)  signifies,  in  the  PhUonian 
lore,  repentance.  The  '  forty -six  years '  since  the 
beginning  of  the  building  of  the  Temple  may 
possibly  be  connected  with  the  age  assigned  to 
Jesus  ('not  yet  fifty  years  old') ;  it  has  been  sug- 
gested that  the  Evangelist  wishes  to  make  Him 
.seven  times  seven  years  old  at  the  Crucifixion  ; 
but  this  is  very  doubtful.  The  frequent  use  of 
number-symbolism  in  the  Gospel  is  more  certain 
tlian  the  correctness  of  particular  interpretations. 
These  interpretations  would  occur  readily  to  the 
'  Gnostic '  or  the  2nd  cent. ;  to  us  they  must  be 
guesswork. 


Some  critics,  such  as  Kenan,  have  objected  to  this  discovery 
of  allegorisni  in  the  Fourth  Gospel,  that  the  allegorist  always 
tries  to  atlraet  attention  to  his  symbols,  whereas  St.  John 
clearly  does  not,  but  conceals  them  so  carefully  that  the  large 
majority  of  his  readers  do  not  even  suspect  their  existence. 
This  sounds  plausible.  But  the  question  really  is  whether  the 
Evangelist  has  not  done  all  that  he  need  have  done  in  order  to 
be  uiiderstood  by  those  among  his  first  readers  who  knew  his 
method.  It  is  not  suggested  tlmt  the  Johannine  symbolism  was 
meant  for  all  to  understand.  There  is  abundant  evidence  that 
those  who  valued  the  '  Gnosis '  were  agreed  that  it  must  not  be 
profaned  by  being  explained  to  all.  We  find  this  conviction  in 
i'hilo,  and  very  strongly  in  Clement  of  Alexandria,  who,  as  a 
Christian,  is  important  evidence.  He  says  that  to  put  the 
spiritual  exegesis  before  the  coannon  people  is  like  giving  a 
sword  to  a  cliild  to  play  with.  He  will  not  write  all  that  he 
knows,  because  of  the  danger  that  it  may  get  into  WTong  hands. 
There  are  some  religious  truths  which  can  only  be  safely  im- 
parted orally.  There  is  reason  to  think  that  he  abandoned  his 
project  of  putting  the  coping-stone  on  his  theological  works  by 
a  book  of  an  esoteric  character,  because  a  published  treatise 
cannot  be  confined  to  those  who  ought  to  read  it.  Since,  then, 
the  existence  of  the  symbolic  method,  and  the  obligation  of 
concealing  it  from  the  ordinary  reader,  are  both  proved,  there 
i^  nothing  strange  in  the  veiled  s^-mbolism  which  we  have  found 
to  characterize  this  Gospel. 

The  Evangelist  writes  throughout  for  two  classes 
of  readers— for  the  siinjMciores,  who  would  be 
satisfied  by  the  narrative  in  its  plain  sense,  and  for 
the  '  Gnostic,'  who  could  read  between  the  lines 
without  difficulty.  And  yet  he  icishes  all  his 
readers  to  rise  towards  a  spiritual  understanding. 
Again  and  again  he  puts  the  key  in  the  lock — in 
such  solemn  utterances  as  '  I  am  the  Bread  of  Life 
— the  Light  of  the  World — the  Resurrection  and 
the  Life.'  His  own  word  for  the  allegoric  method 
is  '  proverb '  (irapoifila).  Up  to  the  end  of  the  last 
discourse,  Jesus  has  spoken  to  His  disciples  in 
proverbs  ;  but  the  time  was  coming  (after  the  %vith- 
drawal  of  His  bodily  presence)  in  which,  through 
the  medium  of  the  Paraclete,  He  should  no  more 
speak  to  them  in  proverbs,  but  should  show  them 
plainly  of  the  Father.  The  proverb  is  different 
from  the  Synoptic  vafapoX-q,  which  is  a  story  with 
a  religious  and  moral  application — a  story  which 
has  a  complete  sense  in  itself,  apart  from  the 
lesson,  which  is  generally  conveyed  by  the  story 
as  a  whole,  and  not  by  the  details.  St.  John, 
however,  tries  to  keep  the  historical  parabolic  form 
in  which  Jesus  actually  taught.  Yet,  in  spite  of 
himself,  he  half  substitutes  the  Alexandrian  and 
Philonic  allegory  for  the  Synoptic  parable.  The 
double  sense  runs  all  through  the  narrative. 
Whenever  the  Johannine  Christ  begins  to  teach— 
whether  His  words  are  addressed  to  Nicoderaus, 
the  Samaritan  woman,  'the  Jews,'  or  His  oym 
disciples— He  nearly  always  begins  by  enunciating 
a  proposition  which  contains,  under  a  sensible  and 
symbolic  image,  a  religious  truth.  The  auditor 
regularly  misunderstands  Him,  interpreting  liter- 
ally what  should  have  been  easily  perceived  to  be 
a  metaphor.  This  gives  Jesus  an  opportunity  to 
develop  His  aUegory,  and,  in  so  doing,  to  instruct 
the  reader,  if  not  the  original  hearer  of  the  dis- 
course, whom  once  or  twice  (as  in  ch.  3)  the  Evan- 
gelist seems  to  have  quite  forgotten.  The  Johannine 
Christ  loves  words  which,  at  any  rate  in  Greek, 
have  a  double  sense,  such  as  ivueev,  TveiVa,  X670! 
(cf.  esp.  10^'-^).  Whether  the  very  numerous 
cases  where  a  verb  may  be  indicative  or  imperative 
are  intentionally  ambiguous,  it  is  not  easy  to  say. 
The  symbolism  reaches  its  height  in  some  of  the 
discourses  to  the  Jews  ;  the  last  discourses  to  the 
disciples  are  more  plain,  and  in  ch.  17,  which  is 
the  climax  of  the  teaching  of  tlie  Gospel,  the 
mystical  union  is  expounded  with  much  directness. 

One  of  the  most  difficult  problems  in  connexion 
with  the  classes  of  readers  for  whom  the  Gospel 
was  intended  is  presented  by  certain  explanations 
introduced  by  the  Evangelist.  The  chief  of  these 
are  2-'  6"-  ^  1^  8"  12**  18^  These  explanations 
seem  to  us  at  times  superficial  and  unworthy  of 
tlipir  cniitext.     We  cannot  be  surprised  that  they 


JOHN,  GOSPEL  OF 


JOHN,  GOSPEL  OF 


have  given  force  to  partition-theories  like  that  of 
A\'endt,  who  maintains  that  the  discourses  are  on 
a  higlier  intellectual  and  spiritual  level  than  could 
be  within  the  compass  of  the  author  of  parts  of  the 
narrative.  The  difficulties  in  the  way  of  partition- 
theories  seem  to  be  insuperable.  A  more  plausible 
hypothesis  is  that  the  Evangelist  deliberately 
introduced  tlieae  childlike  observations  for  the 
benefit  of  the  simpliciures,  trusting  to  the  educated 
reader  being  able  to  divine  his  purpose.  But  this 
theory  is  not  very  satisfactory.  We  have  seen 
that  St.  John  is  able  to  see  as  many  as  three  mean- 
ings in  a  simple  occurrence.  And  so  he  may  have 
felt  that  '  the  Temple '  might  mean  Christ's  natural 
body  as  well  as  the  stone  building  and  the  Church 
of  Christ,  which  last  must  have  been  mainly  in 
his  mind  wlien  lie  foresaw  the  downfall  of  the 
Jewish  sanctuary  and  all  which  it  represented. 

The  stijlc  of  the  Fourth  Gospel  is  as  different 
from  that  of  tlie  Synoptics  as  the  matter.  Instead 
of  the  variety  \\lilili  \\e  find  in  them,  we  have  a 
small  nuiiilier  of  essi'ntial  thoughts  repeated  again 
and  again  under  a  small  number  of  images.  From 
this  results  a  strange  impressiveness,  common  in 
mystical  writings,  which  often  share  this  peculi- 
arity, though  to  some  readers  the  monotony  appears 
tedious  and  inartistic.  The  discourses  of  Christ 
have  a  sweet  and  melancholy  charm,  with  an  in- 
describable dignity  and  grandeur ;  over  them  all 
hangs  the  luminous  haze  of  mysticism,  in  which 
mystery  seems  clear,  and  clearness  itself  is  mys- 
terious. The  pliraseology  is  Hebraic,  not  Greek  ; 
in  the  Prologue  we  have  a  species  of  rhythm  which 
recalls  the  old  prophets,  and  in  many  places  we 
find  the  parallelism  of  Hebrew  poetry.  The 
arrangement  is  that  of  the  writer's  own  thought, 
not  chronological.  The  appearance  of  detailed 
accuracy  is  not,  as  has  often  been  seriously  argued, 
a  proof  of  first-hand  knowledge,  but  is  due  to  the 
vividness  of  the  Evangelist's  mental  images.  The 
numbers,  as  has  been  said,  seem  often  to  have  a 
symbolic  meaning  ;  the  figures,  such  as  Nicodemus 
and  the  Greeks  who  asked  for  an  introduction  to 
Jesus,  disappear  from  the  writer's  mind  as  soon  as 
the  point  is  made.  No  difference  can  be  detected 
between  the  style  of  the  various  speakers,  or 
between  the  discourses  of  Christ  and  the  Evan- 
gelist's own  comments. 

2.  Theology  of  the  Gospel.— The  first  question 
which  meets  us  is  the  relation  of  the  Prologue  to 
the  rest  of  the  Gospel.  Harnack,  whose  antipathy 
to  the  Logos  theology  apparently  influences  his 
judgment,  suggests  that  the  Prologue  was  merely 
prefaxed  to  the  narrative  in  order  to  predispose  the 
Greeks  in  favour  of  the  views  which  the  author  was 
about  to  propound,  views  which  do  not  really  at 
all  correspond  with  the  Logos  philosophy  as  they 
understood  it. 

'The  Prolofjne  brings  in  conceptions  which  were  familiar  to 
the  Greeks,  and  enters  into  these  more  deeply  than  is  justified 
by  the  presentation  wliicli  follows  ;  for  the  notion  of  the  incarnate 
Logos  is  by  no  means  the  dominant  one  in  the  Gospel.  Though 
faint  echoes  of  this  idea  ma.\'  possibly  be  met  with  here  and 
there  in  the  Gospel,— I  confess  I  do  not  notice  them,— the  pre- 
dominating thought  is  essentially  that  of  Christ  as  the  Son  of 
God,  who  obediently  executes  what  the  Father  has  shown  and 
appointed  Urn'  {XThK  \\.  18911.). 

This  strangely  perverse  judgment  has  evoked  pro- 
tests from  several  critics  who  understand  the 
Gospel  better  than  Harnack,  among  others  from 
R6ville,  who  has  certainly  no  bias  in  favour  of 
traditional  views.  It  would  be  easy  to  show  that 
every  one  of  the  dogmatic  statements  in  the  Pro- 
logue is  reasserted  in  the  body  of  the  Gospel.  For 
the  pre-existence  of  the  Logos,  beyond  time,  in 
personal  relation  to,  and  in  essential  union  with, 
God,  cf.  6«2  8=8  14'»  17'-  ■*.  For  the  Logos  as  the 
Agent  in  creation,  and  its  life-giving  and  sustaining 
principle,  cf.  5=«  8'=  9^     (From  the  nat^re  of  the 


subject  -  matter,  there  is  not  much  cosmological 
teaching  in  the  Gospel ;  but  what  there  is,  is  in 
full  accordance  with  the  Prologue).  For  mani- 
festations of  the  Logos  before  the  Incarnation,  by 
revelations  and  by  His  immanent  presence,  cf.  8=^ 
and  9^^,  'whenever  I  am  in  the  world,'  etc.  There 
is  thus  chapter  and  verse  in  the  Gospel,  and  in 
Christ's  own  words,  for  every  statement  in  the 
Prologue ;  and  though  Jesus  never  calls  Himself 
the  Logos,  this  sublime  conception  of  His  person- 
ality pervades  the  whole  narrative.  The  stum- 
bling-block to  Harnack  and  others  has  been  what 
some  critics  (e.g.  Beyschlag  and  Reville)  have 
called  the  '  contradictory  double  theology '  of  the 
Gospel.  By  the  side  of  a  conception  of  Christ's 
Person  which  seems  to  class  the  Evangelist  as  a 
speculative  mystic  or  Gnostic,  we  have  statements 
which  seem  to  belong  to  the  school  of  Christianity 
which  was  dondnated  by  Jewisli  jjositivism.  Such 
doctrines  are  the  actual  'becoming  flesh'  of  the 
Logos,  as  opposed  to  a  theophany  under  human 
form  ;  and  the  repeated  mention  of  '  the  Last  Day,' 
a  conception  with  which,  as  Reuss  says,  '  mystical 
theology  has  no  concern.'  But  the  Evangelist  does 
not  write  or  think  as  a  philosopher.  The  supreme 
merit  of  his  book  as  a  Gosjjel  is  that  he  does  not 
write  the  life  of  Christ  as  a  Christian  Platonist 
might  have  been  tempted  to  write  it,  but  keeps  a 
firm  hold  on  the  historical  Jesus,  and  on  the  con- 
crete facts  in  His  teaching.  There  is,  undoubtedly, 
a  double  thread  of  the  kind  indicated.  In  some 
parts  of  the  narrative  we  feel  that  'tabernacled 
among  us '  is  a  truer  description  of  the  character 
of  the  Johannine  Christ  than  '  became  flesh.'  There 
is  an  aloofness,  a  solitary  grandeur,  about  the  central 
figure  which  prevents  Him  from  seeming  fully 
human  ;  while  in  other  places  there  is  an  approxi- 
mation to  tlie  Synoptic  portrait.  But  it  is  only 
to  the  minute  critic  that  these  difficulties  become 
apparent.  To  the  religious  consciousness  of  Chris- 
tendom there  has  never  been  any  hesitation  in 
recognizing  the  profound  agreement  between  the 
Synoptic  and  the  Johannine  presentations  of  Jesus 
Christ.     See,  further,  art.  LoGO-S. 

The  intense  ethical  dualism  of  the  Fourth  Gospel 
is  another  perplexing  phenomenon  to  those  who 
look  for  philosophical  consistency  in  a  religious 
treatise.  Christian  Platonism,  into  which  the 
Logos  theology  passed  as  its  most  important  in- 
gredient, seems  to  leave  no  room  for  a  personal 
devil,  or  for  human  beings  who  are  children  of  the 
devil.  It  seems  rather  to  fa\-our  the  conception  of 
evU  as  mere  privatio  boni.  St.  John,  liowe\'er,  is 
quite  unconscious  of  any  such  difficultr.  Although 
the  Logos  is  the  immanent  cause  of  all  life,  so  that 
'without  him  nothing  « li.ilivci  cniK'  into  being,' 
the  'darkness'  in  which  the  li-hl  shines  is  no  mere 
absence  of  colour,  but  a  |)cisiti\c  malignant  thing, 
a  rival  kingdom  which  has  its  own  subjects  and  its 
own  sphere.  Smiie  critics  have  even  been  reminded 
of  the  mel.-iphysii'.i,!  dualism  of  Manicha'an  .specula- 
tion. Tliis  last,  however,  is  in  too  flagrant  con- 
tradiction witli  the  Logos  theology  to  ettect  a 
lodgment  in  the  Evangelist's  mind.  The  Logos  is 
the  true  light  which  lighteth  every  man  as  it  conies 
into  the  world.  But  since  the  philosophical  pro- 
blem is  not  present  to  the  mind  of  the  writer,  he  is 
not  careful  to  draw  the  line  between  the  ethical 
dualism  which  was  part  of  his  religious  experience, 
and  the  metaphysical  dualism  which  would  have 
subverted  the  fmiiiihiticmsof  liis  intellectual  system. 
The  sources  of  ll]is  eihieal  iln.ilism  may  lie  found 
partly  in  the  s|.iritu.il  stni.L;;;Ies  of  an  intensely 
devout  nature,  hut  to  a  greater  extent,  probably, 
in  the  furious  antagonism  of  Judaism  to  nascent 
Christianity,  a  hostility  which,  to  a  Christian, 
must  have  seemed  really  diabolical.  The  temper 
of  his  own  age  was  luicon-sciously  transferred  to 


890 


JOHX.  GOSPEL  OF 


JOHN,  GOSPEL  OF 


the  ministry  of  Jesus,  who  certainly  tuukl  not 
have  adopted  the  attitude  of  unc(iiii|iriiiiii>iii;_: 
antagonism  to  'the  Jews'  which  we  IukI  mi  iIm- 
Gospel.  But  it  is  wortliy  of  note  llial  -onu-  <ii 
the  devotional  literature  of  later  tiiuc.^,  wliiuh 
shows  the  closest  affinity  with  Johannine  ideas, — 
the  Theologkc  Gernmnka  is  a  particularly  good 
example, — displays  the  same  extreme  ethical  dual- 
ism as  the  Gospel.  Stockl,  in  criticising  the 
Theologkt  Gennanka  from  the  standpoint  of 
modern  Komanism,  finds  in  it  the  '  Gnostic  dual- 
ism' which,  with  equal  justice,  he  might  have 
detected  in  parts  of  the  Fourth  Gospel.  In  neither 
the  one  nor  the  other  does  the  distinction  corre- 
spond with  the  Gnostic  division  of  mankind  into 
pneumatic  and  psychic,  with  an  impassable  gulf 
between  them.  Compare,  e.g.,  the  Evangelist's 
use  of  '  the  world '  in  15'". 

(1)  Doctrine  of  God  the  Fat/ier. — According  to 
the  logic  of  the  system,  it  has  often  been  said, 
God  should  always  manifest  Himself  through  the 
Logos.  No  man  hath  seen  or  heard  God  at  any 
time  (l'»  5"  &■'%  So  Philo  holds  that  there  can 
be  no  immediate  communication  between  God, 
who  is  transcendent  and  unknowable,  and  the 
world.  Nevertheless,  it  is  impossible  to  impose 
this  philosophical  idea  upon  St.  John.  His  God 
is  not  the  unknowable  '  One '  of  the  later  Platon- 
ism.  He  is  Spirit  (4^),  that  is,  on  the  negative 
side,  He  is  non-material,  not  appreciable  by  sense, 
spaceless  and  timeless.  Yet  He  is  not  darkness, 
but  Light ;  and  light  includes  the  ideas  of  radiation 
and  illumination.  Further  yet,  He  is  Love.  He 
loves  the  world.  As  loving  the  world.  He  is  the 
principle  of  action,  the  principle  of  tlie  activity  of 
the  Logos.  He  is  the  Father,  who  'draws'  men 
to  Himself.     Several  other  passages  {e.g.  5"-  -'  9-^) 


iiunicate  to  i 


ipjy  independent  direct  action  by  the   Father, 
this  as  a  ]) 
of  the  Evangelist's  disagreement  with  Philo.    Philo, 


Still, 


-emphasize  this  as  a  proof 


no  doubt,  could  not  acknowledge  an  Incarnation 
hut  the  idea  of  theophauies  was  naturally  very 
familiar  to  him  from  his  OT  studies.  There  is 
nothing  un-Philonic  in  the  'voice  from  heaven' 
(12^).  Philo,  too,  speaks  of  '  a  voice  formed  in  the 
air,  not  coming  from  any  animate  body.' 

(2)  Doctrine  of  the  Holu  Spirit. — The  dualism  of 
Flesh  and  Spirit  in  St.  John  is  one  expression  of 
the  ethical  dualism  of  which  we  have  spoken  above. 
It  is  very  clearly  set  forth  in  the  conversation  with 
Nicodemus,  when  Christ  says  that  no  one  can  see 
the  Kingdom  of  God  unless  he  be  born  from  above 
(or  afresh).  This  He  explains  by  repeating  that 
unless  a  man  be  born  of  water  and  the  Spirit,  he 
cannot  see  the  Kingdom  of  God.  '  That  which  is 
born  of  the  flesh  is  flesh,  and  that  which  is  born 
of  the  Spirit  is  spirit.'  This  regeneration  l)y  water 
and  the  Spirit  is  the  birth  from  above,  not  a  simple 
moral  renovation,  but  a  real  communication  of  the 
Divine  Spirit.  Natural  generation  is  only  a  feeble 
image  of  this  supernatural  generation,  wiiich,  says 
Loisy  (perhaps  too  boldly,  in  the  absence  of  any 
expression  of  this  thought  in  tlie  Gospel),  'is 
attached  to  the  same  order  as  the  Incarnation  of 
the  Word.'  St.  John  does  not  draw  this  com- 
parison ;  but  he  says  of  the  elect  that  they  '  were 
born,  not  of  blood,  nor  of  the  will  of  tlie  flesh, 
nor  of  the  will  of  man,  but  of  God'  (1").  The 
sphere  of  the  Spirit  forms  a  world  absolutely 
opposed  to  the  world  of  the  flesh.  What,  theii, 
is  the  content  of  this  world  of  the  Spirit  ?  Since 
God  is  Spirit,  the  world  of  Spirit  is  the  world  of 
God,  and  partakes  of  the  Divine  attributes.  It 
is  absolute  and  indestructible ;  the  Father  '  hath 
life  in  himself,'  and  has  given  this  absolute  life 
to  the  Son  also.  Even  so  the  Son  can  transmit 
it,  '  quickening  whom  he  will.'  The  Spirit  quick- 
enetli,  the  flesh  profiteth  nothing:  it  w^as  to  oom- 


hev  have  not  natur- 
iir.unate.  This  gift 
'■  I II end  from  heaven' 
lulls  which,  as  the 
citing,  are  the  out- 


he  two  great  Sacraments, 
ilied  as  Light  and  Truth, 


The  Divine  i:  1 1 1  i- 

words  wliirli  imiily  :iii  illuiuination  of  the  intellect. 
So  in  17^  life  eternal  ir-  delined  as  the  knowledge  of 
(or  rather,  the  process  of  knowing)  the  onlj^  true 
God,  and  Jesus  Christ,  whom  He  sent.  This  ad- 
vancing knowledge  is  the  highest  form  of  life. 
Those  who  '  are  of  the  truth '  listen  to  the  words 
of  Christ ;  but  the  contemptuous  or  careless  ques- 
tion of  Pilate,  '  What  is  truth  ? '  receives  no  answer. 
The  truth  also  '  makes  us  free ' ;  it  breaks  the  yoke 
of  sin.  In  opposition  to  this  higher  world,  St.  John 
develops  the  idea  of  the  cosmos,  which  is  the  direct 
opposite  of  the  Spirit.  It  has  only  the  appearance 
of  life  ;  he  who  has  been  redeemed  from  it  '  has 
passed  from  death  into  life'  (S^).  It  is  therefore 
possible  to  call  the  devil  the  prince  of  this  world  ; 
although  the  passage  from  the  kingdom  of  the 
world  to  that  of  the  Spirit  is  ojjen  (3"  and  17). 
Jesus  Christ,  who  has  full  possession  of  the  Spirit, 
is  come  to  raise  men  from  tlie  sphere  of  the  world 
into  that  of  the  Spirit.  Thus,  the  Johannine 
soteriology  contemplates  an  enrichment,  not  a 
restoration,  of  human  nature.  The  Evangelist 
regards  sin  as  essentially  a  failure  to  recognize 
the  Divine  in  the  world.  Those  to  whom  the 
light  has  not  been  brought  are  blind,  but  not 
guilty :  those  to  whom  it  has  appeared,  and  who 
turn  their  backs  upon  it,  are  the  typical  sinners. 
From  henceforth,  these  lovers  of  darkness  are 
doomed  to  destruction  (diruiXeia),  when  Jesus  shall 
'  overcome  the  world '  as  a  triumphant  conqueror. 

The  relations  of  the  Spirit  to  the  Logos  are 
difficult  to  define.  What,  for  example,  was  the 
office  of  the  Spirit  in  the  world  before  the  Incarna- 
tion? Life,  as  we  know,  was  immanent  in  the 
Logos :  there  seems  to  be  no  room  for  another 
irvcvim  ^aoTvoiovv.  The  descent  of  the  Holy  Spirit 
upon  Jesus  at  His  baptism  is  referred  to  in  St. 
John,  but  not  described.  To  him,  the  Baptism 
could  have  no  such  importance  as  it  appears  to 
have  in  the  Synoptic  record.  The  Spirit  was  given 
to  Christ  '  without  measure '  from  the  first. 

During  the  ministry  we  do  not  hear  much  of 
the  Spirit.  St.  John  tells  us  bluntly  (1^)  that 
'  There  was  as  yet  no  Spirit,  because  Jesus  was 
not  yet  glorified.'  Instead  of  the  Spirit,  we  have 
a  jMrasi-independent  power  ascribed  to  the  words 
of  the  Lord  Jesus,  which  are  spoken  of  in  the  same 
sort  of  way  in  which  Philo  speaks  of  the  Xbyoi  and 
Sviia.iJt.eis.  Jesus  insists  that  the  words  are  not  His 
own,  but  come  from  God  (3^^  and  several  other 
places).  The  words  are,  of  course,  inoperative, 
unless  they  are  received  and  taken  into  the  heart : 
but  if  they  are  so  received,  they  will  abide  in  the 
heart  as  a  living  and  spiritual  principle  (15'  &"). 
'  He  that  keepeth  my  words  shall  never  see  death,' 
says  Jesus  (8*') ;  and  St.  Peter  exclaims,  '  Lord, 
to  whom  shall  we  go?  Thou  hast  the  words  of 
eternal  life '  (6**) :  that  is  to  say,  not  words  about 
eternal  life,  but  words  which  confer  eternal  life, 
as  in  8".  Of  the  disobedient.  He  says,  '  The  word 
which  I  have  spoken  will  judge  him  at  the  last 
day'  (12«) ;  and  to  His  disciples,  '  He  that  heareth 
my  words  liath  passed  from  death  unto  life  '  (5^) ; 
'  Now  ye  are  clean  through  the  word  that  I  have 
si)oken  unto  you  '  (15').  'The  word  or  words  would 
thus  .seem  to  exercise  all  the  functions  of  the  Para- 
clete. But  they  must  not  be  identified  ;  for  the 
words  were  addressed  to  all  who  heard  them  ;  the 
Paraclete  was  given  only  to  the  faithful  disciples. 
Moreover,  the  ministry  of  the  Spirit,  properly 
s|ipaking,   begins  (mly   after   the  glorification   of 


JOHN,  GOSPEL  OF 


JOHN,  GOSPEL  OF 


891 


Jesus  Christ.  Kemembering  that  the  Johannine 
theology  implies  a  Trinitarian  doctrine  of  equality 
and  oneness  between  the  three  Persons  of  the 
Trinity,  we  may  still  say  that  the  office  of  the 
Son,  during  the  period  of  His  sojourn  on  eartli, 
was  to  reveal  the  Father,  while  the  office  of  the 
Holy  Spirit  was,  and  is,  to  reveal  the  Son. 

St.  John  takes  no  interest  in  purely  speculative 
or  dogmatic  questions,  and  therefore  he  does  not 
trouble  himself  about  sxich  questions  as  the  office 
of  the  Holy  Spirit,  as  distinguished  from  that  of 
the  Logos,'  before  tlie  Incarnation.  From  the 
practical  point  of  view  it  is  possible  to  say,  as  he 
does,  that  '  there  was  as  yet  no  Sjiirit '  before  Jesus 
was  glorified.  After  this  gloriheation,  although 
the  action  of  the  Holy  Spirit  is  often  represented 
as  that  of  Christ  Himself  returning  to  His  own, 
there  is  a  difference  between  the  mode  of  action  of 
the  Incarnate  Christ  and  that  of  the  Holy  Spirit. 
Not  only  is  the  former  external,  the  latter  internal ; 
but  the  Incarnate  Christ  addressed  Himself  to  all 
who  came  into  contact  with  Him,  and  was  obliged 
to  adapt  His  teaching  to  the  limited  intelligence 
of  His  auditors.  The  Paraclete  is  a  principle  of 
spiritual  life  in  the  hearts  of  believers,  on  whom 
He  acts  directly  and  without  intermediary.  His 
work  consists  in  glorifying  Christ,  bearing  witness 
to  Him  and  continuing  His  work  of  revelation.  It 
is  quite  useless  to  ask  whether,  for  St.  John,  the 
Paraclete  is  a  distinct  hypostasis  in  the  Godhead. 
The  category  of  personality  is  quite  foreign  to  the 
Evangelist,  as  to  his  whole  school,  and  no  answer 
to  such  a  question  can  be  drawn  from  liis  words. 
The  Evangelist  does  not  speculate  about  the  rela- 
tion of  the  Spirit  to  the  Father,  who  '  sends '  Him. 
The  expression  'God  is  Spirit'  (not  'the  Spirit') 
expresses,  so  to  speak,  the  quality  of  the  Divine 
nature  ;  it  does  not  assert  the  identity  of  the  Father 
and  the  Holy  Ghost,  any  more  than  Bths  fjn  6  \dyos 
in  the  Prologue  asserts  such  an  identity  between 
the  First  and  Second  Persons.  The  Evangelist  is 
much  more  concerned  with  the  relation  of  the 
Paraclete  to  Christ.  This  indeed  is  one  of  the 
dominating  thoughts  of  the  Fourth  Gospel.  Jesus 
'baptizes  with  the  Holy  Ghost'  (1») ;  that  is  to 
say,  the  gift  of  the  Holy  Ghost  is  an  end  of  the 
ministry  of  Jesus.  A  very  important  passage  is 
14",  in  which  Jesus  says  that  the  world  cannot 
receive  the  Paraclete  '  because  it  seeth  him  not, 
neither  knoweth  him  :  but  ye  know  liim  ;  because 
he  dwelleth  with  you,  and  shall  be  in  you.'  Tl 
words  'dwelleth  'with  yuu'  must  refer  to  tl 
presence  of  Jesus  Himself,  who  has  received  tl 
Spirit  in  absolutely  full  measure,  in  the  nddst  of 
His  disciples  :  after  His  departure  the  Spirit  'shall 
be  in  you,'  a  condition  which  did  not  yet  exist  at 
the  time  when  the  words  were  spoken.  This  gift 
was,  in  a  manner,  communicated  when,  after  the 
Resurrection,  Jesus  breatlied  on  the  disciples  and 
said,  'Receive  ye  the  Holy  Ghost.'  But  it  would 
be  quite  foreign  to  the  thought  of  the  Gospel  to 
attach  importance  to  tlie  physical  '  insufflation '  as 
the  vehicle  of  the  gift  of  the  Holy  Ghost.  The 
gift  would  follow  in  response  to  the  prayer  of 
Christ  (14'*).  He  would  be  sent  in  Christ's  name 
(14»).  Jesus  Himself  will  send  Him  (15=«).  After 
the  gift  has  come,  when  the  disciples  have  entei-ed 
into  the  sphere  of  the  Spirit,  they  will  still  look  to 
Christ  as  the  principle  of  their  life.  He  will  still 
be  the  true  Vine,  of  which  they  are  the  liramhes. 
It  is  even  possible  for  Him  to  pronii.se,  '1  will  scr 
you  again' — certainly  not  with  reference  lu  th.^ 
appearances  after  the  Resurrection,  but  !(■  ihc 
spiritual  vision  Avhich  has  nothing  to  do  willi  luiilily 
presence  (16'*'^).  So  when  He  says,  '  I  have  de- 
clared unto  them  thy  name,  and  will  declare  it' 
(17®"),  the  intention  does  not  refer  to  any  future 
discourses  with  the  disciples  on  earth,  before  or 


after  His  Passion,  but  to  the  relations  which  will 
exist  between  Him  and  them  under  the  dispensa- 
tion of  the  Spirit.  The  expressions  '  we  will  come 
unto  him,  and  make  our  abode  with  him'  (14-'^)  ; 
and  '  I  will  come  again  and  receive  you  unto 
myself  (14^),  have  the  same  meaning,  though  in 
the  latter  passage  there  may  be  a  special  reference 
to  the  '  coming '  of  Christ  at  the  death  of  each 
believer.  There  is  no  reference  in  St.  John  to  such 
a  picture  as  that  drawn  by  St.  Paul  in  1  Co  15. 
In  Jn  16''"-  there  is  a  remarkable  statement  about 
the  Paraclete,  that  '  he  shall  not  speak  of  himself 
...  he  shall  take  of  mine  and  shall  show  it  unto 
you.'  The  relation  of  the  Paraclete  to  Christ  is 
thus  exactly  the  same  as  that  between  Christ  and 
the  Father  (cf.  S"'  6=»  etc.). 

But  the  special  office  of  the  Spirit  in  the  world 
begins  with  Christ's  departure  from  earth.  The 
death  of  Christ,  in  St.  John,  has  not  the  same 
significance  as  in  the  Pauline  theology.  St.  John 
even  shrinks  from  the  idea  of  death  in  connexion 
with  the  incarnate  Logos.  '  The  death  of  Christ,' 
says  Reuss,  'in  the  Johannine  theology,  is  an 
exaltation,  not  an  abasement.'  'The  end  of  the 
ministry  of  Christ,'  says  Reville,  'is  not,  properly 
speaking.  His  death.  His  death  is  in  reality  a 
deliverance.'  The  redemptive  element  in  the  death 
of  Christ  is  not  His  suttering,  but  His  gloriheation. 
And  yet  we  must  not  forget  that  the  idea  of  sacri- 
fice, and  of  Christ  as  the  true  Paschal  Lamb,  is 
frequently  in  the  mind  of  the  Evangelist.  It 
appears  not  only  in  tlic  '  tpstiiiiony '  of  John  the 
Baptist  (P»-36),  but  in  the  Hi-h  T'lii'stly  prayer, 
where  the  words  'for  thiir  >:ikis  I  consecrate 
myself  (17"),  haveaddinitcly  suriilicial  meaning. 
This  doctrine  was  part  of  the  Christian  tradition, 
which  St.  John  accepts  heartily  without  attempting 
to  bring  it  into  line  with  his  own  dominant  ideas. 
It  is,  however,  true  to  say  that  it  is  by  His  life, 
and  not  by  His  death,  that  the  Johannine  Christ 
gives  life  to  the  world.  '  Because  I  live,  ye  shall 
live  also'  (14'').  The  i^rinciple  of  life  within  them 
w  ill  be  the  Holy  Spirit.  As  Paraclete,  He  will  be 
their  defender  and  helper  against  all  adversaries, 
ghostly  and  bodily.  He  will  also  be  their  Com- 
forter (we  cannot  wonder  that  some  have  defended 
this  meaning  of  Paraclete) ;  He  will  change  their 
sorrow  into  joy,  as  a  grain  of  wheat  dies  only  to 
live  again,  or  as  a  woman,  when  she  is  in  travail, 
exchanges  her  pain  for  joy  that  a  man  is  born  into 
the  world ;  He  will  guide  them  into  all  truth— a 
word  which  in  St.  John  has  a  predominantly  moral 
significance.  His  action  on  the  unbelieving '  world ' 
is  one  of  '  conviction '  ( Ae^x"",  16*),  a  Philonic 
expression,  of  somewhat  obscure  meaning.  St. 
John  does  not  seem  to  contemplate  any  direct  action 
of  the  Holy  Spirit,  except  in  the  hearts  of  the 
faithful :  the  office  assigned  to  Him  in  the  Anglican 
Catechism,   as    the   '  sanctiher    of    all    the    elect 

Ssople  of  God,'  is  quite  Johannine  ;  but  indirectly 
e  will  show  in  their  true  colours,  and  condemn, 
those  who  are  the  enemies  of  Jesus  Christ.  See, 
further,  art.  Holy  Spirit,  14  (6). 

3.  Scheme  of  the  Fourth  Gospel.— After  tlie 
Prolot'ue  begins  a  section  of  the  Gospel  which  may 
be  called  'The  Testimony.'  We  have  first  the 
testimony  of  John  the  Baptist,  then  of  the  disciples, 
then  of  '  signs  '—the  miracle  at  Cana.  The  Evan- 
gelist next  describes  how  Jesus  manifests  Himself, 
lirst  in  Judiva,  then  in  Samaria,  and  thirdly  in 
I  liililee.  But  another  thread  .semis  to  run  I  hnmgh 
ilic'se  chapters,  which  also  Icml^  itsrli  Id  the  ar- 
i.ingenient  in  triplets.  We  ini;jlii  <all  tlir>c  lirst 
c  liiipters  the  doctrine  of  Water.  First  \m-  Iiave  tlie 
water  of  the  Law  superseded  by  the  wine  of  the 
Gospel,  typified  by  the  changing  of  the  water  into 
wine  at  the  marriage-feast ;  next  we  have  the  water 
of  purification  mentioned  in  tiie  discourse  witli 


892 


JOHN,  GOSPEL  OF 


JOHN,  GOSPEL  OF 


Nicodemus ;  and  thirdly,  the  water  of  life,  the 
nature  of  which  is  expounded  in  the  dialogue  with 
the  woman  of  Samaria.  In  ch.  5  begins  the  second 
of  the  three  great  divisions  of  the  book,  which 
should  be  called  the  Cm^flkt  or  (.ptiris.  After  two 
more  'signs'  a  jsrolonged  controversy  with  the 
Jews  is  described,  in  which  the  divergence  between 
Christ  and  the  hierarchy  becomes  more  and  more 
acute,  till  the  final  catastrophe  is  seen  to  be  in- 
evitable. The  tension  comes  to  breaking  point 
after  the  final '  sign,'  and  the  end  of  Christ's  public 
ministry.  It  is  at  this  point  that  the  unstable 
'  multitude '  quits  the  scene  with  the  significant 
question,  unanswered  like  that  of  Pilate,  '  Who  is 
this  Son  of  Man?'  (12^^).  In  these  chapters  also  a 
subordinate  thread  may  be  discovered  in  the  do('- 
trine  of  Bread  (ch.  6),  the  doctrine  of  Light  {cli.  S), 
and  the  doctrine  of  Life,  (the  transit  through  deatli 
into  life  a  .spiritual  law).  The  third  part  of  the 
Gospel  may  be  called  the  Glorification  (56^o).  Jesus 
reveals  Himself  to  His  disciples  in  a  .series  of 
esoteric  discourses,  addressed  to  them  only,  in  view 
of  His  approaching  departure  from  them.  This 
section  culminates  in  the  High-Priestly  prayer 
(ch.  17).  Then  follows  the  narrative  of  the  Passion, 
conceived  throughout  as  the  glorification  of  Christ 
through  self-chosen  suffering.  The  humiliation 
and  sacrifice,  no  less  than  the  triumph  of  death, 
are  part  of  the  Sii|o.  This  part  of  the  Gospel  ends 
with  the  appearance  to  Thomas,  and  the  'last 
beatitude.'     Ch.  21  is  an  epilogue. 

i.  CharacteFistic  Words  in  the  Fourth  Gospel. 
— (1)  Life  (ia-ff). — In  the  Prologue  an  interesting 
and  rather  important  (question  of  punctuation  arises 
in  connexion  with  this  word.  Ought  we  to  read 
with  AV  xwp"  ai'/ToO  iyivero  ovSk  lt>  8  yiyovcv.  in 
aiiTt^  ^oiri  ijv,  or,  with  ACD  and  nearly  all  the 
Ante-Nicene  Fathers  who  comment  on  it,  should 
we  put  the  full  stop  at  Iv  ?  The  former  view,  which 
is  supported  by  Chrysostom,  has  prevailed  in 
modern  times,  though  several  authorities,  such  as 
WH,  put  the  stop  at  Iv.  The  latter  tlieory  seems 
to  give  a  richer  and  deeper  meaning,  and  one  more 
completely  in  accordance  with  the  religious  phil- 
osophy of  the  Gospel.  '  All  things  \\ere  made  by 
Him  (as  the  Instrument),  and  without  Him  nothing 
came  into  being.  That  whicli  has  come  into  bein^,' 
was,  in  Him,  life.'  The  Logos  is  thr  \  ital  ]iiiiici|ilc 
from  whom  all  that  lives  derivt'>  ils  life  \\'li:iii>\ n 
life  exists  in  the  world  wax,  etiTii.ill\ ,  tiimlr^sly, 
in  Him.  To  have  'life  in  Him^ult '  is  mi  eteiii;il 
attribute  of  God  the  Son  ;  all  that  appears  on  this 
fleeting  scene  exists,  so  far  as  it  exists,  by  partici- 
pation in  His  life.  In  short,  tlie  Logos,  as  life,  is 
a  cosmic  principle.  The  idea  that  all  things  [ire- 
existed  eternally  in  the  mind  of  God,  and  are,  as 
it  were,  unrolled  as  the  ages  "o  on,  was  familiar  to 
Jewish  thought.  But  St.  John's  doctrine  is  more 
Greek—that  the  things  of  time  derive  whatever 
reality  they  possess  from  a  sphere  of  higlier  reality 
beyond  time  and  place.  AVith  this  accord  tlie  other 
passages  in  the  Gospel  where  Life  is  mentioned. 
In  6"-'«  Christ  is  declared  to  be  the  Bread  of  God 
which  cometh  do\vii  from  heaven  to  give  life  to 
the  world.  Whoso  eateth  His  flesh  and  driiiketh 
His  blood  hath  eternal  life.  He  who  is  closely 
united  to  Cliiist — who  makes  the  life  of  Christ  his 
own-h,i~  I  lie  |iiiii<i|)]e  of  life  within  him.  In  17' 
the  kiii.wlrd-i-  iif  till'  Father  and  of  the  Son  is  said 
to  constituti'  I'tciM.-il  life.  This  knowledge  can 
be  possessed  only  tlirough  the  indwelling  of  Him 
who  is  the  principle  of  life.  The  same  idea  recurs 
in  lp5,  and  in  14"  Christ,  'in  whom  all  things 
consist,'  as  St.  Paul  says  (Col  1"),  is  Himself  tlie 
Resurrection  and  the  Life,  and  the  Way,  the  Truth, 
and  the  Life.  Accordingly,  the  Life  is  a  present 
possession  rather  than  a  future  hope.  He  that 
believeth  on  the  Son  hath  everlasting  life  (3-"'  r>-'). 


Christ  came  that  we  might  have  life,  and  have  it 
abundantly  (10").     See  LIFE. 

(2)  Tniih  (dXijSeia). — St.  John's  use  of  this  word 
cannot  be  paralleled  in  the  Synoptics,  but  it  occurs 
in  the  Epistles  of  St.  James,  St.  Peter,  and  St. 
Paul.  Typical  examples  of  the  use  of  the  word  in 
tliis  Gospel  are  1"  'grace  and  truth  came  by  Jesus 
Christ ' ;  8^"  '  the  truth  shall  make  you  free ' ; 
14"  '  I  am  the  truth ' ;  16"  '  the  Spirit  of  truth  shall 
guide  you  into  all  truth ' ;  17"  '  thy  word  is  truth.' 
Christ,  however,  came  'to  bear  witness  to  the 
truth '  (18''),  so  that  it  must  have  been  in  the  world 
before  the  Incarnation.  Those  that  'are  of  the 
truth'  heard  and  accepted  Him.  From  these 
passages  we  gather  that  '  the  truth '  is  all  that 
really  exists  in  every  sphere,  and  this  is  why  Jesus 
Christ,  as  the  Logos,  calls  Himself  the  Truth  (cf. 
Scotus  Erigena  :  '  certius  cognoscas  Verbum  natu- 
ram  omnium  esse ').  Kecognition  of  this  brings 
freedom,  because  truth  corresponds  with  the  law 
of  our  being.  For  those  who  have  eyes  to  see,  all 
experience  is  a  commentary  on,  and  witness  to, 
Christ's  religion.  But  the  children  of  the  evil  one, 
who  was  a  liar  from  the  beginning,  cannot  hear 
the  words  of  truth  {»"<■). 

(3)  Closely  akin  to  Truth  is  Witness  (tuiprvpla). 
This  idea  is  never  absent  from  St.  John's  mind, 
particularly  in  the  earlier  part  of  his  Gospel. 
Every  event  in  histciy,  cvcrv  i'\)H'rii-TMr.  is  valu- 
ableasa  witness  to  tin- iiuili,  ('Im-i  i^  ilic  centre, 
to  whose  Person  ami  rhiiniN  i  \  ciy  thin:;  testifies. 
The  Father  bears  \Mliies,  lonteniiiig  Christ. 
Christ  bears,  and  yet  does  not  bear,  witness  con- 
cerning Himself  (5^'  contrasted  with  8") ;  the 
Spirit  mil  bear  witness  concerning  Him  (15-°;  cf. 
1  Jn  5"  '  it  is  the  Spirit  that  beareth  witness,  be- 
cause the  Spirit  is  truth ') ;  John  the  Baptist  and 
the  disciples  bear  witness  (1'  15^);  especially  the 
Evangelist  himself  (19^^  21='');  the  Scriptures  bear 
witness  (o*^-  *) ;  and  lastly,  the  '  works '  of  Christ 
bear  witness  (10-''  14^^).  The  'witness,'  therefore, 
is  found  in  every  avenue  through  which  the  truth 
can  reach  us.  Converging  from  all  sides  upon  the 
Person  of  Christ,  it  is  the  means  of  progressive 
initiation  {Iva  -yvCiTe  koX  yiyvda-KiiTc,  l(f^)  into  the 
whole  truth — that  is  to  say,  into  the  knowledge 
and  \o\e  of  Christ.  The  contradiction  in  3"  and 
S'J  is  oiilv  |i:iitiallv  i'\|ilained.  Christ  makes  a 
inii.|n.'  ihiiiii  loi  liiiiisplt"  (in  8"),  as  having  full 
kimw  Icil^r  <>{  iKi^t,  ]iirMMit,  and  future. 

(4)  Li(//if  {<!w).-  -When  the  First  Epistle,  putting 
into  terse  and  <lefinite  phrases  the  teaching  of  the 
Gospel,  says  that  '  God  is  light'  (1  Jn  1°),  it  means, 
in  modern  language,  that  it  is  the  nature  of  God 
to  communicate  Himself.  This  self  ■oniiiiiiunicatiim 
is  eft'ected  tlirougli  the  Logos  as  tln'  iiriii(i|>li<  of 
life.  'The  life  was  the  light  of  men  '  i  Ml  ( 'hrist 
is  'the  true  light  which  lighteth  every  man  as  it 
comes  into  the  world.'  There  is  not  mucli  loom 
for  doubt  that  this  is  the  right  translation  of  1". 
The  '  coming '  Ls  repeated  or  continues ;  cf .  9" 
'  whenever  (STav)  I  am  in  the  world,  I  am  the  light 
of  the  world.'  The  Evangelist  certainly  asserts 
that  there  were  earlier  partial  Chri.stophanies,  as 
there  will  be  later  and  even  greater  Christophanies 
through  the  Spirit.  And  yet  there  is  a  sense  in 
which  Jesus  could  say,  'Yet  a  little  while  is  the 
light  with  you' (12»=). 

(5)  The  tight  converges  upon  one  ])oint,  where  it 
shines  forth  as  Glori/  (56|a),  anotlier  very  charac- 
teristic word.  Christ  was  in  glory  with  the  Father 
l)efore  the  world  was  (17')  ;  an  important  pas,sage 
as  negativing  the  pantheistic  conception  that  tlie 
Word  is  only  the  life  and  light  of  the  world — that 
tlie  world  is  the  complete  and  only  exiiression  of 
His  being.  He  was  incarnate  to  'glorify'  the 
Father  on  the  earth  (17°),  and  thereby  was  also 
glorified  Himself  (13^"  14").     The  Spirit,  too,  will 


JOHN,  GOSPEL  OF 


JOHN,  GOSPEL  OF 


893 


glorify  Christ  by  making  Him  more  fully  known 
(16").  It  has  been  said  that  in  St.  John  tlie 
universe  is  the  poem  of  the  Word  to  the  glory  of 
the  Father. 

(6)  Judgment  (Kp/tris).— As  at  the  creation  God 
divided  the  light  from  the  darkness,  so  the  In- 
carnation necessarily  and  naturally  divided  man- 
kind, condemning  tho.se  who  would  not  receive  the 
light.  This  is  '  the  judgment '  (3''').  With  regard 
to  Christ's  own  function  as  .ludj^e,  we  have  anotlier 
formal  contradiction  (cf.  12«  S"  lii«  with  5~- "  9»» 
5*").  The  contrast  is  strikiiij;,  Ijut  tlie  Evangelist's 
meaning  is  clear.  The  cominj;  ot  Christ  disclosed 
an  actual  relation  ;  He  made  no  new,  more  severe 
laws ;  He  only  revealed,  in  all  its  unfathomable 
depth,  the  gulf  that  yawns  between  God  and  the 
devil,  and  between  their  respective  servants.  The 
'one  that  seeketh  and  judgeth'  (S'")  is  the  eternal 
power  of  righteousness  which  is  symbolized  in  the 
Law  (5^=),  and  e.xpressed  in  the  Gospel  (\2*^<-).  At 
the  same  time,  the  judgment  is  a  j'crsoncd  one, 
and  is  committed  to  Chi-ist  as  a.  son  of  man  (5"). 
Mankind  is  judged  by  a  human  standard,  though 
by  the  standard  of  humanity  at  its  best. 

(7)  World  (K6<Tfj.os).-^lt  is  remarkable  that  St. 
John  uses  nbafios,  while  the  Synoptics  use  alibv. 
The  former  is  the  Greek,  the  latter  the  Jewish 
way  of  envisaging  reality  ;  for  the  Greeks  pictured 
it  more  readily  under  the  form  of  space,  the  JeAvs 
under  that  of  time.  The  '  world '  is  the  smn-tot.il 
of  existence  viewed  (by  abstraction)  without  thi.' 
spiritual  world.  It  is  '  the  things  below '  (8^),  as 
opposed  to  'the  things  above.'  The  concept  is 
therefore  an  abstraction  for  certain  purposes,  and 
has  no  real  existence,  for  the  world  is  upheld  in 
being  oidy  by  the  Logos,  who  is  '  not  of  the  world. ' 
It  comprises  all  that  belongs  to  the  categories  of 
time  and  place.  Christ  '  came  into  tlie  world '  at 
His  incarnation,  and  He  is  'in  the  world'  till  His 
death  and  glorification.  He  prays  not  that  His 
disciples  may  be  taken  out  of  the  world,  but  that 
they  may  be'  kept  from  the  evil.  From  this  idea 
comes  that  of  tlie  world  as  human  society  as  it 
organizes  itself  apart  from  God,  hence  the  severe 
judgments  passed  upon  the  world ;  e.g.  1  Jn  S''* 
'the  whole  world  lieth  in  the  wicked  one,'  and 
.similar  phrases  in  the  Gospel.  Thus  the  world  is 
that  which'  is  external,  transitory,  and  corrupt. 
The  Evangelist,  it  need  hardly  be  said,  does  not 
follow  up  Uie  thought  of  the  unreality  of  tlie  world 
apart  from  God,  into  acosmistic  speculations. 
Tliinkers  who  have  done  so  have  been  driven  into 
a  purely  negative  conception  of  evil,  and  have  often 
drifted  into  a  dreamy  pantheism.  But  St.  John, 
as  we  have  seen,  presents  us  with  an  intense  ethical 
dualism,  including  a  belief  in  a  personal  or  quasi- 
personal  devil,  who  is  the  de  facto  prince  of  this 
world. 

(8)  To  believe  {iriffTeieiv). — This,  and  not  the  sub- 
stantive wla-Tis,  is  St.  John's  chosen  expression. 
The  verb  has  two  constructions:  (1)  with  the 
dative  (5^'  8^',  both  mistranslated  in  AV),  to  believe 
a  person  or  statement — accept  the  veracity  of  the 
former,  or  the  truth  of  the  latter ;  and  (2)  tt.  ei's 
niia—a.  construction  characteristicalljr  Johannine, 
which  occurs  only  once  in  the  Synoptics  (Mt  18"  = 
Mk  9*%  In  the  Synoptics  (ienerally  faith  is  rela- 
tive to  a  particular  object — the  condition  of  obtain- 
in"  some  special  miraculous  benefit.  But  in  St. 
Jolin  faith  is  allegiance  to  Jesus  Christ,  and,  as 
such,  a  condition  of  eternal  life  (l'=  6'"},  which  is 
also  a  progressive  state,  depending  on  knowledge 
(17^)  as  well  as  faith.  The  Evangelist  studiously 
avoids  yviiffti  as  well  as  tt/o-tis,  using  in  both  cases 
the  verbs  only. 

(9)  Love  {iydini). — This  is  the  new  commandment 
(1.3**).  Love  is  the  bond  which  unites  the  Son  to 
the  Father,  the  disciples  to  the  Son,  and  the  dis- 


ciples to  each  other.  '  As  the  Father  hath  loved 
me,  so  have  I  loved  you'  (15").  'That  the  love 
wherewith  thou  hast  loved  me  may  be  in  them, 
and  I  in  them.'  The  virtue  of  love  is  no  vague 
sentiment,  but  shows  itself  necessarily  in  action. 
'  He  that  hath  my  commandments  and  keepeth 
them,  he  it  is  that  loveth  me'  (14-'--^).  Love  is 
not  to  be  sharply  distinguished  from  faith,  though 
the  former  is  a  state  mainly  of  the  atl'ections,  the 
latter  of  the  will  and  the  intellect.  Theologians  who 
developed  the  Johannine  ideas  further,  like  Clem- 
ent of  Alexandria,  agree  that  faith  is  the  begin- 
ning, love  the  crown,  of  the  spiritual  life.  Faith 
and  love  are  both  simple  states,  and,  as  Clement 
says,  '  are  not  taught.'  The  soul  passes  out  of  the 
simplicity  of  faith,  through  the  multiiilicity  of 
strenuous  interests  in  the  life  of  duty,  into  a 
second  and  more  Divine  simplicity,  and  immediacy 
of  intercourse  with  God.  St.  John's  teaching 
about  love  culminates  in  cli.  17,  in  which  our  Lord 
seems  to  imply  that  the  'name'  of  the  Father, 
which  He  has  declared  to  His  disciples,  is  Love. 

3.  The  miracles  of  the  Fourth  Gospel.  — The 
miracles  in  St.  John  are  either  '  signs '  (o-Tj/ieia),  in 
which  case  their  abnormal  and  also  their  symbolic 
character  is  emphasized,  or  '  works '  (Ipya),  in 
which  case  no  distinction  between  natural  and 
supernatural  is  thought  of,  and  the  '  works '  are 
only  component  parts  of  the  one  'work,'  to  do 
wliiili  .liMis  came  into  the  world.  The  .Johannine 
('liri~l  il.ns  not  wish  faith  in  His  person  to  rest 
on  thi'  si^iis,  though  He  allows  them  a  legitimate 
weight  in  fortifying  a  weak  faith.  It  is  better 
to  believe  for  the  sake  of  the  words  than  of  the 
works.  He  implies  in  14" ;  and  the  last  beatitude 
(20-")  is  a  reproof  of  Thomas,  who  believed  only 
when  he  had  ocular  testimony  to  the  Resurrection. 
The  seven  miracles  selected  by  the  Evangelist  have 
the  value  of  acted  parables,  and  in  some  cases  the 
.symbolical  significance  is  dearly  indicated. 

(1)  T/ir  minnlr  ,,f  Cnn,  ni  (!,',/i/rr  Ci'"-).— Christ 
is  reprcsciiti-.l  .-i.s  l„.-iiniih,L;  His  |iul.lic  ministry  at 
a  wt-(!(liii,L;.  I  iilil..'  the  I'.s^riii's,  and  unlike  John 
the  Baptist,  .Icsus  wa.s  nut  iicisonally  an  ascetic. 
He  drank  wine,  and  ate  what  -was  put  before  Him. 
There  was,  indeed,  a  special  approjiriateness  in 
this  festivity  at  the  beginning  of  His  ministry, 
when  He  had  just  called  together  His  family  of 
Apostles,  whom  He  loved  to  compare  to  a  bridal 
party  (cf.  Mt9''||).  The  miracle  may  have  taken 
place  on  the  last  of  the  seven  days  usually  given  up 
to  bridal  festivities.  The  occasion  gives  Chiist  an 
opportunity  to  assert  the  superior  sacredness  of 
His  mission  to  any  family  ties  (His  words  to  His 
mother  convey  an  unmistakable  rebuke),  and  also 
(through  the  mouth  of  the  master  of  the  cere- 
monies) to  indicate  symbolically  the  supersession 
of  the  water  of  the  Law  by  the  good  wine  of  the 
Gospel. 

(2)  The  healing  of  the  offirinV.H  son  (4«"-).— The 
miracle  of  healing,  performed  for  the  benefit  of 
a  court  official  (/3a(riA(/i6s)  of  Herod  Antipas,  is  the 
only  '  sign '  of  the  Synoptic  type  recorded  in  St. 
John.  The  miracle  is  conditioned  by  the  faith  of 
the  father  ;  it  is  a  work  of  mercy,  pure  and  simple, 
and  no  symbolic  meaning  can  easily  be  detected 
in  it. 

(3)  r/ie  /innihiflr  „/  f.rilirMl.i  (.->'"■•).— This  work 
of  heiiliii-  at  lir-t  -iulil  irsi'inlilcs  the  last,  and  it 
introduces  the  situation,  laniiliai  m  the  Synoptics, 
of  a  quarrel  with  the  strict  legalists  about  Sabbath 
observance.  But  the  Evangelist  has  a  deeper 
lesson  to  convey  by  this  work  of  healing  on  the 
Sabbath,  one  wliicli  profoundly  modifies  the  whole 
conception  of  the  way  in  which  that  day  should  be 
kept.  '  My  Father  worketli  hitherto,  and  I  work  ' 
(v.").  That  is  to  .say,  the  Sabbath  rest  of  God  is 
unimpeded  activity,  and  that  is  the  true  notion  of 


894 


JOHN,  GOSPEL  OF 


JOHN,  GOSPEL  OF 


rest,  as  opposed  to  inertia.  It  follows  that  a  mere 
negative  abstinence  from  exertion  of  every  kind  is 
not  an  intelligent  or  acceptable  mode  of  honouring 
God.  The  verse  is  also  theologically  important, 
as  separating  the  Christian  idea  of  God  the  Father 
from  the  Neo-Platonic  Absolute,  and  from  the  God 
of  such  speculative  mystics  as  Eekhart  and  Silesius. 


(4)  The  feeding  of  the  five  thousand  (O""'-).— This 
miracle  is  also  recorded  by  the  Synoptists,  but  St. 
Jolin  tells  it  with  a  very  different  purpose.  In  no 
other  miracle  is  tlie  didactic  purpose,  referred  to 
by  St.  Augustine,  more  apparent.  '  Interrogemus 
ipsa  miracula  quid  nobis  loquantur  de  Christo ; 
habent  enim,  si  intellegantur,  linguam  suam. 
Nam  quia  ipse  Christus  Verbum  Dei  est,  etiam 
factum  Verbi  verbum  nobis  est.'  How  much  this 
miracle  is  an  acted  parable  is  shown  by  v.**,  where, 
in  answer  to  the  challenge  of  the  Jews,  Christ  does 
not  make  any  appeal  to  the  miracle  as  a  'sign.' 
His  answer  is,  '  My  Father  giveth  you  the  true 
bread  from  heaven " — not  only  in  one  miraculous 
act,  but  always.  In  v.**  the  metaphor  is  mis- 
understood by  the  hearers  (a  favourite  literary 
device  of  tlie  Evangelist),  and  tlien  comes  the  great 
saying  in  v.**.  The  device  recurs  in  w.^^'^.  The 
discourse  on  the  Bread  of  Life  does  not  refer 
directly  to  the  Eudinrist,  which  had  not  yet  been 
instituted  ;  but  tlir  K\  aimdi^t  undoubtedly  wishes, 
by  narrating  it.  to  spiritualize  and  generalize  the 
Eucharistic  doitiinc  cuneiil  when  lie  wrote,  and 
to  check  the  tendency  to  formality  and  material- 
ism (cf.  esp.  v.'^).  In  v.^'f-  there  is  clearly  an 
allusion  to  the  Paschal  lamb,  the  blood  of  which 
was  sprinkled  on  the  lintels  and  doorposts ;  and 
therefore  the  thought  of  sacrifice  was  alreadj'  in 
the  mind  of  Jesus.  But  the  leading  idea  is  that 
of  identifying  ourselves  with  the  life  of  Christ, 
being  reborn  into  His  spirit :  this  union  con- 
stitutes eternal  life.  Christ  is  Himself  the  ;;ift 
which  He  brings;  even  througli  a|i|Knint  failure 
He  fulfils  His  work  (vv.*"-^).  A  s,nr,h,.,l  pivpara- 
tion  is  needed  to  understand  how  a  uuni  can  thus 
unite  earth  and  heaven  (vv.-*^-  ■") ;  but  in  part  the 
question  is  answered  in  the  OT  (vv.^*-  ■*"),  and  in  part 
the  believer  must  co-operate  (vv.^"'").  Man  lives 
only  by  participation  in  the  virtues  of  Christ's 
life  and  death,  which  brings  with  it  a  personal 
union  between  the  believer  and  Christ  (vv.^"). 
The  whole  discourse  (\670s,  not  'saying,'  v."") 
seemed  '  harsh '  (irKXijpiSs)  to  those  who  heard  it : 
it  pointed  to  self-devotion,  and  surrender  even  to 
death.  Accordingly,  many  even  of  His  disciples 
left  Him.  Christ  thereupon  said  (v.'''),  'Does  this 
oBend  you?  What  if  ye  shall  see  the  Son  of  Man 
ascend  where  he  was  before  ? '  When  the  bodily 
presence  is  withdrawn,  and  the  flesh  entirely  dis- 
appears, the  meaning  of  the  'harsh  discourse'  will 
be  made  manifest — viz.  that  the  union  with  Christ 
is  spiritual,  and  therefore  a  truth  for  all  times 
and;  places.  Unlike  the  eating  of  manna  by  '  the 
fathers,'  which  only  nourished  their  bodily  frames 
for  a  few  hours,  the  bread  from  heaven  confers 
eternal  life.  Tlie  Hesh  profiteth  nothing :  the 
icords  which  He  spoke  to  them  were  spirit  and 
life.  This  language  would  bring  great  comfort  to 
the  disciples  of  the  Evangelist's  own  day,  when 
the  '  hope  deferred '  of  the  Second  Coming  was 
making  many  hearts  sick.  It  can  hardly  be  an 
accident  that  the  designation  of  the  traitor,  which 
in  the  Synoptics  occurs  at  the  same  hour  as  the 
institution  of  the  Eucharist,  in  this  Gospel  follows 
immediately  the  discourse  on  the  bread  of  life. 
The  whole  passage  rr/ireseti/s,  under  another  form, 
the  narrative  of  the  ]>ast  Supper. 

(5)  The  walking  on  the  sen  (6'"-)  is  closely  con- 
nected   with    the    more    important    miracle,   and 


the 


merely  illustrates  the  power  of  Christ  over  another 
element. 

(6)  The  man  born  blind  (ch.  9).— The  disciples 
are  confronted  by  one  of  the  most  perplexing  pro- 
blems of  life — that  of  a  vie  numimee.  A  beggar  lies 
before  them,  who  has  been  blind  from  his  birth. 
Was  this  crippling  infirmity  a  punishment  for  his 
own  sins,  either  in  a  previous  state  of  existence  or 
in  anticipation  of  those  which  he  was  going  to 
commit,  or  for  the  sins  of  his  parents  ?  Je.sus  f 
that  neither  explanation  is  the  right  one ; 
reason  is  '  that  the  works  of  God  might  be  made 
manifest  in  him.'  He  adds  that  for  all  alike  '  the 
night  cometh,  when  no  man  can  work.'  The  moral 
difficulty  about  the  justice  of  human  suffering 
receives  no  direct  answer.  The  most  significant 
verses  in  the  discourse  about  the  Light  of  the  world 
are  ^-  ^'^  ■".  Jesus  has  come  into  the  world  for 
judgment,  not  only  for  a  discernment  of  good  and 
bad  people,  but  (as  a  necessary  result)  to  procure 
for  the  first  eternal  life,  and  to  pardon  the  last. 
The  blind  man  typifies  .humanity  converted  to 
Christianity,  coming  out  of  darkness  and  made 
to  see  by '  Christ ;  while  the  representatives  of 
Judaism,"  proud  of  their  enlightenment,  are  struck 
with  blindness — '  blind  leaders  of  the  blind.' 

(7)  The  raising  of  Lazarus  [ch.  11). — The  narra- 
tive of  this,  the  last  and  greatest  of  the  seven 
'signs,'  contains  several  characteristic  features. 
The  suggestion  implied  in  v.*  does  not  induce  Jesus 
to  hurry  His  action  at  all.  He  deliberately  waits 
two  days  before  starting  for  Judiea.  Similarly  in 
osf.  t],p  KvaiiuT-list  is  anxir.us  to  show  that  He  did 
nut  ai't  iipcii  His  iiKilli.'i'- su'jui'^lii.ii.  Still  more 
instniriivr  is  111,.  iiiiMni.li.isian.liii.L;  of  Christ's 
worils  ill  V.'-,  .■uid  I  he  <-on\  I'lsaticm  of  Martha 
(v.^'"-)-  She  makes  a  half  request,  -vvhicli  she  does 
not  dare  to  put  directly  (v.--),  to  which  Christ 
answers:  'Thy  brother  shall  rise  again.'  Martha 
misunderstands  this  to  refer  to  the  resui'rection  at 
the  last  day.  But  Christ  did  not  mean  either  this 
or  that  He  intended  to  bring  Lazarus  to  life  again. 
Just  as  in  ch.  6  He  refuses  to  mention  the  miracle, 
in  reply  to  the  question  '  What  si™  showest  thou  ? ' 
(v.™),  but  gives  as  the  sign  the  declaration,  '  I  am 
the  bread  of  life' ;  so  here  He  does  not  invite  atten- 
tion to  what  He  is  about  to  do,  but  to  His  own 
Person.  '  I  am  the  resurrection  and  the  life.'  The 
deep  significance  of  this  is  often  missed.  If  the 
words  referred  only  to  the  approaching  miracle, 
they  would  convey  but  hollow  comfort  to  the 
Christian  moomer,  for  whom  no  miracles  are 
wrought ;  if  we  take  them  to  refer  to  the  future 
resun-ection  at  the  last  day,  we  are  forgetting 
that  the  words  were  spoken  as  a  rorrcction  of 
that  thought.  The  words  bid  us  concentrate  our 
thoughts  upon  the  Person  of  Christ.  '  He  that 
believeth  on  me,  though  he  die,  yet  shall  he  live ; 
and  he  that  liveth  and  believeth  on  me  shall  never 
die.'  This  is  not  a  promise  of  resurrection  ;  it  is  a 
denial  of  death.  The  resurrection  is  a  personal 
communication  of  the  Lord  Himself,  not  a  gift  to 
be  obtained  from  another.  Martha  had  .spoken  of 
a  gift  to  be  obtained  from  God  and  dispensed  by 
Christ.  Jesus  answers  that  He  Himself  i>  (not 
'  will  give  or  procure ')  the  Kesurrection  and  the 
Life.  By  taking  humanity  upon  Himself  He  has 
revealed  the  permanence  of  man's  indix-iduality 
and  its  indestructibility.  The  Incarnation  brought 
life  and  immortality  to  light.  Death  is  abolished  ; 
the  grave  has  been  robbed  of  its  victory  by  the 
fact  that  Christ  lives,  and  is  the  life  of  the  indi- 
\  idual  believer.  In  Him  all  that  belongs  to  the 
completeness  of  personal  being  finds  its  nernianence 
.■md  consummation.  Because  He  is  the  Life,  He 
must  also  be  the  Resurrection  ;  in  other  words,  our 
true  life  is  hid  with  Him  in  God.  The  dead  in 
Christ  are  alive,  in  virtue  of  their  union  with  Him 


JONAH 


JONAH 


895 


who  is  the  Resurrection  and  the  Life.  After  this 
sublime  lesson,  the  physical  miracle  seems  almost 
an  anti-climax,  a  thing  to  be  half  regretted,  like 
the  restitution  of  Job's  large  fortune  and  his 
flourishing  family  by  his  second  marriage.  But  not 
only  is  the  miracle  a  parallel  in  act  to  the  verbal 
revelation  which  precedes  it,  but  it  emphasizes  the 
very  deep  lesson  that  tlujugli  life  in  its  highest 
sense  is  indestructible,  we  must  jiass  tlu'ough  the 
gate  of  death  in  order  to  reach  it.  This  is  one  of 
the  profoundest  and  most  characteristic  doctrines 
of  Christianity.  Those  who  have  found  in  the 
maxim  'Die  to  live'  the  kernel  of  Christ's  religion, 
have  penetrated  a  large  part  at  least  of  His  '  secret.' 
This,  and  the  lesson  that  it  is  the  Person  of  Christ 
Himself,  revealed  as  the  Resurrection  and  the  Life, 
rather  than  the  hopes  of  a  gift  to  be  one  day  con- 
ferred by  Him,  that  should  be  the  truest  consolation 
for  mourners,  are  the  two  main  points  in  the  narra- 
tive of  the  raising  of  Lazarus. 

Conchision. —  'The  Fourth  Gospel  gives  us  an 
answer  to  the  question,  '  What  think  ye  of  Christ  ? ' 
Moreover,  it  maintains  that  the  answer  to  this 
question  is  the  dividing-line  between  light  and 
darkness.  To  know  Christ  is  to  know  the  Father ; 
and  no  man  conieth  to  the  Father  except  by  Him. 
The  Christ  '  whom  to  know  is  to  live '  is  not,  of 
course,  merely  the  human  Jesus,  but  the  eternal 
Word  who  tabernacled  among  us  in  Imniaii  form. 
The  Evangelist  would  have  acceiilcil  r.cii;^cr.s  dic- 
tum, that  '  conversio  Jit  ad  Dominum  at  S/nri/ mii.' 
But  he  regards  the  identification  of  this  s|iiritual 
power  with  Jesus  of  Nazareth  as  essential.  The 
vigorous  words  of  1  John  (P"*  4'"^)  unquestionably 
express  the  Christological  position  of  the  author  of 
the  Gospel,  even  if  .some  doubts  exist  as  to  the 
common  author.ship  of  the  two  books.  It  is  the 
peculiarity  of  the  Johannine  theology  that  \\c 
pass  backwards  and  forwards  between  the  universal 
and  the  particular,  between  time  and  eternity, 
present  and  future,  outward  and  inward.  To  the 
philosopher  this  oscillation  is  most  perplexing  ;  but 
it  is  the  true  normal  pulsation  of  the  spiritual  and 
moral  life,  in  which  we  may  always  trace  a  double 
movement  of  expansion  and  concentration.  On 
the  one  hand,  we  must  lose  our  souls  in  order  to 
find  them,  we  must  die  daily  in  order  to  live.  We 
must  continually  pass  out  of  ourselves,  forget  our- 
selves, and  identify  ourselves  with  interests  of 
which  we  are  not  the  centre.  We  must  enlarge 
our  life  till  there  is  nothing  selfish,  personal,  or 
limited  about  it.  And,  on  the  other  hand,  exactly 
in  jjroportion  as  we  succeed  in  doing  this,  we  shall 
enrich  our  lives  and  become  more  keenly  conscious 
of  the  worth  and  value  of  our  own  soiils  in  God's 
sight.  There  will  be  no  blurring  of  individual  dis- 
tinctions, no  Buddhist  absorption  in  the  Infinite, 
but  a  growing  sense  that  the  soul  of  man  is  the 
throne  of  the  Godhead,  and  his  body  the  temple  of 
the  Holy  Ghost. 

LiTERATDRE.— See  at  end  of  preceding  article. 

W.  R.  Inge. 

JONAH  ('luTOs,  Heb.  niv  'dove,'  AV  of  NT 
Jonas). — A  prophet,  the  story  of  whose  mission  to 
Nineveh  is  related  in  the  Book  of  Jonah,  and  who 
is  probably  to  be  identified  with  the  Jonah  of  2  K 
14-5;  referred  to  by  our  Lord  twice  at  least  (see 
below)  in  the  Gospels  (Mt  12»»-«  ||  Lk  U-^-^"  and 
Mt  16^). 

Certain  of  tlie  scribes  and  Pharisees,  not  content 
with  our  Lord's  many  miracles  or  sims  (cf.  Jn  12"), 
some  of  which  were,  after  all,  like  those  performe<l 
by  their  'sons'  (Mt  12=',  Lk  ll"),  demanded  of 
Him  a  special  sign,  most  probably,  as  in  Mt  16'  II 
Mk  8",  from  heaven,  sinco  siidi  a  sisn  would  at 
once  attest  His  Divine  nii-inn  i,t.  .In  (V'"-^^).  He 
replied:  '  Anevilandadnll.iMW^  j.n.  r.ition  seeketh 
after  a  sign  ;  and  tliere  shall  i]<i  m^'h  he  given  to 


it  [and  we  must  naturally  understand  such  a  sign 
as  they  demanded]  but  the  sign  of  Jonah  the 
prophet :  for  as  Jonah  was  three  days  and  three 
nights  in  the  belly  of  the  whale,  so  shall  the  Son 
of  Man  be  three  days  and  three  nights  in  the 
heart  of  the  earth.  The  men  of  Nineveh  shall 
stand  up  in  the  judgment  with  this  generation, 
and  shall  condemn  it :  for  they  repented  at  the 
]ircaching  of  Jonah  ;  and  behold,  a  greater  than 
.lonah  is  here.'  The  parallel  account  in  Lk.  has 
the  appearance  of  being  a  summary  report  of  that 
in  Mt.,  and  there  are  some  notable  ditterences. 
In  place  of  the  reference  to  the  three  days,  Lk. 
has,  '  For  even  as  Jonah  became  a  .sign  unto  the 
Ninevites,  so  shall  also  the  Son  of  Man  be  to  this 
generation,' — words  which  many  think  refer  only 
to  Jonah's  preaching.  Again,  the  verse  concern- 
ing the  rising  up  of  the  men  of  Nineveh  in  the 
judgment  follows  that  referring  to  the  queen  of 
the  south  instead  of  preceding  it  as  in  Mt.  The 
reference  to  .Jonah  in  Mt  16*  was  obviously  made 
on  another  occasion  ;  it  contains  only  the  words, 
'  An  evil  and  adulterous  generation  seeketh  after 
a  sign  [here  jjlainly  from  heaven,  cf.  v.'] ;  and 
there  shall  no  sign  be  given  unto  it,  but  the  sign 
of  Jonah.' 

Although  it  is  not  the  purpose  of  this  article  to 
discuss  the  difficulties  connected  with  the  story  of 
Jonah  as  told  in  the  OT,  or  to  consider  the  argu- 
ments advanced  for  and  against  the  historicity  of 
the  book,  it  will  yet  be  necessary  to  allude  to 
some  of  them  in  connexion  with  the  problems 
arising  out  of  our  Lord's  references  to  the  prophet. 
Those  \\  lio  maintain  the  historicity  of  the  Book  of 
Jonah,  ami  who  hold  tliat  it  contains  a  record  of 
facts,  find  no  sjjecial  difficulties  in  our  Lord's 
.lihisions  to  it, — He  referred  to  Jonah  and  to 
fads  in  his  history,  just  as  He  referred  to  other 
histoiiial  personages  and  to  facts  in  their  history, 
as  to  Aliraham,  for  instance,  to  Moses,  or  to  the 
queen  of  Sheba ;  for  such  persons  the  only  diffi- 
culties are  the  subordinate  ones  belonging  to  the 
exegesis  and  application  of  the  passages  in  ques- 
tion. On  the  other  hand,  those  who  deny  the 
historicity  of  the  book,  and  who  hold,  with  what- 
ever modifications,  that  the  story  is  a  fictitious 
symbolic  narrative  with  a  didactic  purpose,  like 
some  others  in  the  OT  and  in  tlic  .\|iocrypha,  find 
many  grave  difficulties  in  our  Lord's  use  of  the 
book— difficulties  which  ]..  rliaps  il.i  not  admit  of 
an  absolutely  certain  solutidn.  Hriore,  however, 
adverting  to  them  tliere  is  a  ])rciiminary  point  to 
be  considered. 

It  has  been  maintained  by  some  that  Mt  12'"'  is 
no  part  of  our  Lord's  original  utterance,  but  is 
either  an  amplification  by  the  Evangelist  of  12'" 
(and  cf.  Lk  IP",  Mt  le-"),  or  at  least  a  very  early 
interpolation.  Against  the  verse  it  is  said  :  (I)  It 
runs  counter  to  the  Gospel  history,  for  according 
to  that  history  Jesus  had  wrought  many  signs, 
and  could  not  therefore  say,  'No  sign  shall  be 
given. '  (2)  The  resurrection  was  not  a  sign  to  the 
men  of  that  generation,  i.e.  such  as  they  demanded 
(cf.  Ac- 10").  (3)  The  clause  is  unnecessary,  and 
interferes  with  the  balance  which  Avithout  it 
exists  in  Mt  I2-"- "  ||  Lk  IP'-  ^-,  for  it  was  Jonah's 
preaching  and  the  consequent  repentance  of  the 
Ninevites,  in  contrast  with  His  own  preaching  and 
the  indifference  of  the  men  of  His  generation,  to 
which  Jesus  especially  alluded  ;  His  words  without 
v.*  are  a  complete  answer  to  their  demand  for  a  sign : 
the  repentance-preaching  Jonah  was  a  sign  to  the 
Ninevites  of  God's  mercy;  the  repentance-preaching 
Jesus  of  Nazareth  was  a  sign,  though  a  greater 
one,  to  the  .Jews.  (4)  Add  tliat  (3)  harmonizes 
well  with  IJc  IP",  which  was  perhaps  the  original 
out  of  which  Mt  12-'»  was  evolved.  (5)  There  is 
the  difficulty  about   the   reckoning  of   the  three 


JONAH 


JOKAH 


days  and  three  nights  in  the  case  of  our  Lord's 
resurrection. 

To  these  objections  it  may  be  replied  :  (1)  There 
is  no  contradiction  of  the  Gospel  story,  for  the 
scribes  and  Pharisees  plainly  demanded  a  sign  of  a 
different  character  from  those  which  they  had  so 
far  witnessed  (see  above).  (2)  The  resurrection 
was  a  sign,  since  the  Apostles  proclaimed  it  (Acts 
and  Epistles  passim),  and  made  it  the  corner-stone 
of  their  teaching  about  the  Christ.  (3)  V."  is 
unnecessary  only  on  the  gratuitous  assumption 
that  Jonah's  preaching  was  the  only  way  in  which 
he  was  to  be  a  sign  to  the  men  of  Christ's  genera- 
tion ;  the  introduction  in  v.*>  of  another  particular 
in  which  Jonah  was  to  be  a  sign  does  not  weaken 
or  interfere  wth  what  our  Lord  says  about  the 
prophet's  preaching.  (4)  Lk  11^,  instead  of  being 
the  original,  may  well  be  a  summaiy  report  of  Mt 
12"'  as  suggested  above, — an  explanation  rendered 
not  improbable  by  the  whole  form  and  tenor  of 
the  passage  in  Lk.  referring  to  Jonah.  (5)  This 
difficulty,  such  as  it  is,  makes  rather  for  than 
against  the  authenticity  of  the  verse  (see  below). 
To  these  replies  it  may  be  added  :  (6)  There  is 
.some  ground  for  the  conjecture  that  allusion  was 
made  on  another  occasion  by  our  Lord,  and  also 
by  St.  Paul,  to  Jonah's  deliverance  after  three 
days  from  the  'whale'  as  typifying  tlie  resurrec- 
tion (Lk  24**,  1  Co  15^),  it  being  much  more  un- 
likely tliat  the  reference  in  these  places  is  to  Hos 
6-orGn22'' ;  and  this  may  be  thought  to  add  some 
strength  to  the  probability  tliat  our  Lord  did  utter 
the  words  recorded  in  v.-""  (cf.  also  Mt  27'»,  Mk  8^', 
Jn  2'").  (7)  There  is  no  textual  authority  for  tlie 
rejection  of  the  verse.  On  the  whole,  tlie  conclu- 
sion that  this  verse  is  really  part  of  our  Lord's 
original  utterance  can  be  fully  justified. 

We  have  now  to  consider  briefly  the  difficulties 
connected  with  our  Lord's  use  of  the  story  of 
Jonah  on  the  supposition  that  the  book  is  not 
historical,  but  a  fictitious  narrative  with  a  didactic 
purpose.  (1)  Did  our  Lord  cite  details  from  the 
story  of  Jonah  as  facts,  He  Himself  thinking  them 
to  be  facts?  If  we  reply  in  the  affirmative,  we 
must  admit  that  our  Lord  was  not  completely 
omniscient,  and  that  on  a  point  of  literary  know- 
ledge He  was  and  could  be  in  enor.  Into  a  dis- 
cussion of  the  great  question  of  tlie  limitation  of 
our  Lord's  human  knowledge  we  cannot,  of  course, 
enter  here ;  it  must  suffice  to  point  out  that  the 
most  earnest  maintainers  of  our  Lord's  Divinity 
have  in  all  ages  recognized,  in  view  of  such  pas- 
sages as  Sit  24»  (RV)  ||  Mk  133=,  Lk  S*"-",  Pli  2', 
not  only  a  gradual  growth  of  His  human  know- 
ledge, but  even  a  mysterious  limitation  of  His 
knowledge  of  Divine  things  ;  and  however  ditticult 
it  may  be  to  understand  the  union  of  the  Divine 
and  the  human  in  one  Person,  we  must  not,  in 
maintaining  His  Divinity,  forget  that  He  was 
'  perfect  man.'  'Is  it,'  asks  Dr.  Sanday,  'incon- 
sistent with  our  Cliristian  belief  to  suppose  that 
He  who  called  Himself  the  Son  of  Man,  along  with 
the  assumption  of  human  flesh  and  a  human  mind, 
should  also  have  assumed  the  natural  workings  of 
such  a  mind,  even  in  its  limitations?'  {Bamp.  J.^-ct. 
viii.  p.  415).  (2)  But  did  our  Lord  know  in  Him- 
self that  the  story  of  Jonah  was  fiction  and  vet 
cite  details  from  it  as  though  tliey  were  facts.  His 
hearers  thinkinj^  them  to  be  sucli  ?  Here,  again. 
we  might  reply  in  the  affirmative,  and  that  with- 
out detracting  from  our  Lord's  honesty  as  a  moral 
and  religious  teacher,  for  He  would  have  been  but 
speaking  according  to  the  beliefs  of  His  hearers,  as 
many  other  teachers  in  all  ages  have  done.  Speak- 
ing to  children  in  Knowledge,  He  spoke  to  them  as 
such.  In  this  way,  it  is  nearly  universally  agreed, 
we  are  to  explain  His  worets  about  Hades  anil 
Abraham's  bosom  in  the  graphic  parable  of  the 


Rich  Man  and  Lazarus ;  t.t.  in  warning  and  in 
inculcating  truth  He  spoke  according  to  the  beliefs 
of  His  hearers  and  of  His  age,  without  necessarily 
endorsing  those  beliefs  as  true.  (3)  Or  did  both 
our  Lord  and  His  hearers,  the  scribes  and  Phari- 
sees, regard  the  story  of  Jonah  as  a  parable  or 
fictitious  narrative,  like  others  in  the  OT  and  in 
the  Apocrypha,  and  did  He  thus  refer  to  it? 
.Uthough  in  view  of  To  U-"-"*,  3  Mac  6',  Jos. 
Ant.  IX.  X.  it  is  not  very  probable  that  our  Lord's 
hearers  regarded  the  book  as  fictitious,  we  might 
yet  admit  without  hesitation  that  part  of  our 
Lord's  reference  could  be  thus  explained.  Even  so 
firm  a  maintainer  of  the  historicity  of  Jonah  as 
Huxtable  wTites  in  the  Speaker's  Commentary : 
'  The  reference  to  Jonah's  experiences,  as  yielding 
an  illustrative  parallel  to  what  would  be  seen  in 
His  own  case,  or  even  as  predictive  of  it,  seems  as 
cogent  on  the  supposition  of  the  book  being  an 
inspired  parable,  as  on  that  of  its  beiu"  authentic 
narrative.'  And  in  fact  a  teacher  might,  without 
doing  any  violence  to  right  teaching,  cite  well- 
known  fiction  {The  Pilgrim's  Progress,  Basselas, 
Shakespeare's  characters)  to  enforce  warnings  or 
moral  truth,  and  so  could  our  Saviour  have  done. 
There  is,  liowever,  an  objection  to  this  explana- 
tion, besides  that  referred  to  above,  which,  it  it  be 
not  a  fatal  one,  is  at  least  of  considerable  force, 
viz.  that  our  Lord  would  not  naturally  have  saitl 
of  persons  whom  3,Jictiun  represented  as  repentant, 
that  they  would  rise  up  in  the  Judgment ;  nor 
would  He  have  put  as  a  parallel  case  to  a  fiction 
the  facts  of  the  queen  of  Sheba's  visit  to  Solomon. 

It  does  not  seem  possible  to  pronounce  a  decided 
verdict  in  favour  of  any  one  of  these  hypotheses 
to  the  exclusion  of  the  others,  though  it  may  be 
allowed  that  (3)  contains  more  of  difficulty  tlian 
(1)  or  (2) ;  and  whilst  of  these  latter  (2)  is  perhaps 
the  more  attractive,  (1)  can  certainly  be  held  with- 
out belittling  our  Lord's  Divinity  or  detracting 
from  His  authority  as  a  moral  and  religious  Teacher, 
and  without  weakening  the  force  of  the  lessons 
for  all  generations  derivable  from  the  use  He 
made  of  the  story  of  Jonah  for  the  edification  and 
warning  of  the  men  of  His  own  day. 

It  remains  to  notice  the  difficulty  connected 
with  the  reckoning  of  the  three  days  and  three 
nights.  It  is  certain  that  this  length  of  time  did 
not  literally  elapse  between  the  burial  and  the 
resurrection  of  Christ,  and  the  commentaries  in 
explanation  usually  follow  the  lead  of  St.  Jerome 
and  of  St.  Augustine,  who  point  out  tliat  we  must 
understand  the  passage  on  the  principle  that  the 
part  is  taken  for  the  whole  ;  and  accordingly  it  is 
usually  said  that  our  Lord  was  in  the  'heart  of 
the  eartli '  on  three  day -night  periods  or  vvx^-rDifpa 
(reference  is  made  to  Gn  P-  *  etc.,  Lv  23*=,  1  S  30'-  ", 
2  Ch  lO'*- '-,  Dn  S"  margin).  It  must  be  confes.sed, 
however,  that  this  explanation  seem-;  somewhat 
forced,  in  view  of  the  peculiar  form  nt  tlir  ^..ntiMicr 
in  V.*,  and  there  is  not  a  little  to  !"■  :m4  .i-aiM-i 
it;  and  it  is  perhaps  more  satisfaotni\  in  ^uiijiu^e 
that  our  Lord  was  .sneaking  only  in  general  terms. 
.A.t  any  rate  the  difficulty,  such  as  it  is,  lends 
support  to  the  arguments  for  the  authenticity  of 
the  verse,  since  if  it  were  an  amplification  by  the 
Evangelist,  or  an  interpolation,  the  Evangelist  or 
the  interpolator  wuuld  hardly  have  made  our  Lord 
utter  a  prediction  expressed  in  a  form  not  in  literal 
and  precise  accord  with  the  facts  of  the  resurrec- 
tion as  related  in  the  Gospels. 

It  is  worth  noticing  that  the  story  of  Jonah  had 
a  peculiar  interest  for  the  early  Christians ;  his 
deliverance  from  a  strange  sea-monster  is  depicted 
many  times  in  the  Roman  catacombs  as  typifying 
the  resurrection. 

Literature,— Jerome.  Com.  in  .Jonam,  ii.  405,  also  in  Emnfj. 
Mnllh.  ii.  12.  S3;  Aufustine,  de  Consensu  Emn>i.  iii,  24,  00; 


JORDAN 


897 


C.  H.  H.  Wright,  Biblical  Essays,  18S6,  pp.  34-98 ;  Farrar, 
Minor  Prophets,  1890  ;  Lux  Mundi,  pref.  to  the  10th  edition  ; 
J.  Kennedy,  A  Monograph  on  the  Book  of  Jonah,  1895  ;  Gore, 
Bampton  Lectures,  on  '  The  Incarnation,'  Lects.  vi. ,  vii. ;  Sanday, 
Bampton  Lectures,  on  'Inspiration,'  Lect.  viii.;  G.  A.  Smith, 
The  Book  of  the  Tivelve  Prophets,  vol.  ii.,  1898;  Driver,  LOT^, 
pp.  321-325  ;  art.  '  Jonah '  in  Hastings'  DB,  in  the  Encyc.  Bill. 
1901,  and  in  the  Jeimsh  Encyclopedia,  1904. 

Albert  Bonus. 
JONAH. — A  link  in  our  Lord's  genealogy  (Lk  3^°). 

JORAU. — Son  of   Jehoshaphat,   named  in    our 
Lord's  genealogy  (Mt  1"). 

JORDAN 1.  Name.— The  name  of  this  river  is 

in  the  OT  ]r!: ;  LXX  'lopSoi-T)?,  'UpSavos,  'lopSivv-qi ; 
NT  always  'lopSav-qs ;  Jos.  'lopSavqi,  'Updavos. 

The  form  of  the  word  Yarden  is  difficult  to  explain.  To  say, 
with  Ewald  (Atisf.  Lekrbuch  der  lifb.  Sprache*,  p.  426),  or  with 
Olshausen  (Lehrbuch  der  heb.  Sprache,  p.  405),  that  the  primi- 
tive form  is  Yarddn  or  Yarddn,  does  not  help  us  much ;  and 
we  can  hardly  suppose,  like  Stade  (Leii/buck  der  heb.  Gram- 
matik,  p.  176)  or  Winckler  (Altorient.  Forsch.  i.  p.  422  f.),  that 
it  is  a  word  borrowed  from  another  lan^^uage,  seeing  that  it  is 
"      ■  ■  *   be  bi 


accompanied  by  tlie  article.     It  might 


The  name  of  the  Jordan  has  i 


>  hold,  with 


The  word  I'll:  is  a  common  noun,  and  is  therefore 
always  accompanied  by  the  article  (J'!!"!:n),  with  a 
few  exceptions,  which  will  be  pointed  out  below. 
Yet  it  is  worthy  of  note  that  we  have  not  a  single 
passage  in  which  Yardcn  is  treated  with  certainty 
as  a  common  noun. 

From  the  point  of  view  of  etymology,  it  is  most 
natural  to  connect  this  word  with  the  verb  Ti;  '  to 
descend,'  and  this  is  how  it  is  treated  by  the  pre- 
valent opinion,  found,  however,  more  frequently 
among  geographers  than  among  philologists,  accord- 
ing to  which  the  Jordan  is  'the  descending,'  'the 
flowing,'  a  name  which  might,  of  course,  be  appli- 
cable to  any  stream  of  water,  and  which,  in  a  single 
particular  case,  would  have  become  a  proper  name, 
just  as  the  Hebrews  called  the  Euphrates  lajn,  '  the 
river.'  But  it  is  more  probable  that,  while  retain- 
ing the  root  ii;  as  our  starting-point,  we  should 
interpret  Yarden  as  the  place  to  which  one  goes 
down,  sc.  to  drink,  i.e.  '  the  watering-place.'  Two 
authors,  Seybold  (MNDPV,  1896,  I.e.)  and  Cheyne 
{Encye.  Bibl.  ii.  col.  2575),  have,  independently  of 
each  other,  suggested  this  explanation.  If  this 
derivation  is  correct,  the  modem  Arabic  name  of 
the  Jordan  would  be  a  literal  translation  of  the  old 
name,  for  they  call  it  esh-Sherl'a,  '  the  watering- 
place,'  and  more  fully  esh-Sherl'a  el-Kebireh,  '  the 
great  watering-place,  to  distinguish  it  from  another 
stream,  its  tributary,  the  Sherl'at  el-Marmdirch 
(Yarrauk).  However,  there  is  found  also  among 
the  Arabs  the  name  el-Urdunn,  an  approximate 
transcription  of  the  Hebrew  name  (cf.  Kampfl- 
meyer,  in  ZDPV  xv.  [1892]  p.  27  ;  Ed.  Konig, 
Lehrgebdude  der  heb.  Sprache,  II.  i.  p.  461). 

We  must  mention  one  other  way  of  explaining 
the  name  of  the  Jordan,  which  used  to  be  in  great 
favour  -vvith  the  Fathers  of  the  Church  as  well  as 
the  Jewish  teachers.  According  to  this  interpreta- 
tion, the  name  Jordan  may  be  divided  into  Jor 
and  Dan,  and  these  two  monosyllables  denote  the 
two  sources  of  the  river.  Dan,  that  is  to  say,  is 
the  name  of  the  city  of  Dan,  formerly  Laish  or 
Leshem  (Jos  18.  19*'),  and  consequently  that  of 
the  branch  of  the  river  issuing  from  it  ;  Jor  is  the 
name  of  the  other  stream,  and  Jordan  is  the  final 
name  of  the  river  from  the  point  where  the  two 
branches  unite.  This  explanation  was  given  by 
St.  Jerome,  and  accepted  by  many  writers  after 
liim.  An  attempt  has  been  made  to  support  it  by 
VOL.  I.— 57 


interpreting  Jor  as  a  contraction  of  Yc'or  (in-),  a 
Heb.  word  meaning  '  watercourse,'  and  used  especi- 
ally in  reference  to  the  Nile.  This  strange  ety- 
mology has  now  no  interest  except  that  of  curiosity, 
and  is  not  upheld  by  anybody,  any  more  than 
another  found  in  tlie  Talmud  (Bekhoroth,  55), 
which  takes  Yarden  to  be  a  contraction  of  Ycrcd- 
dan  or  Yored-dan,  and  thus  brings  in  botli  the 
verb  '  to  descend '  and  the  name  of  the  city  of 
Dan. 

ec 
are:  (a) J 

'  the  Jordan '  or  '  a  river ' ;  but  several  commentators  doubt 
whether  the  text  is  reliable  ;  Budde  suggests  deleting  this  word 
as  a  gloss  ;  Gunkel  and  Winckler  change  it  into  Yi'or  (l.y;),  be- 
cause in  the  same  passage  reference  is  made  to  the  Nile  ;  Cheyne 
into  Glltbn  (jin-j)  for  the  same  reason.  (6)  Ps  427,  where  'cref 
hay-Yarden  (pnirr  p,N)  seems  to  denote  '  the  country  of  the 
Jordan,'  i.e.  probably  the  region  round  about  the  sources  of 
the  river,  which  is  confirmed  by  the  mention  of  Hermon  or 
rather  the  Hermons  (in  the  plural)  in  the  same  verse.  It  must 
be  observed,  however,  that,  according  to  the  Talmud,  the  river 
bore  the  name  of  Jordan  only  between  the  Lake  of  Tiberias  and 
the  Dead  Sea,  a  statement  which  is  neither  confirmed  nor  con- 
tradicted by  the  Bible,  and  cannot  be  proved  in  any  way  ;  we 
may  add  that,  according  to  some  writers,  the  present  custom 
is  exactly  the  opiwsite,  for  it  is  alleged— has  the  claim  any 
foundation  ?— that  at  the  present  day  only  the  part  of  the  river 
above  the  lake  is  called  Urdimn,  and  the  part  below,  Sher^a. 

The  word  Jordan  in  the  rflle  of  common  noun  is  further 
proved  by  the  expression  '  Jordan  of  Jericho '  (inn^  JT!")').  i"  the 
construct  state.    The  meaning  of  this  will  be  examined  below. 


2.  General  geography  and  geology. — The  total 
length  of  the  valley  of  the  Jordan,  from  its  source 
to  its  mouth  at  the  Dead  Sea,  is  about  120  miles. 
It  stretches  from  north  to  south  in  a  practically 
straight  line.  It  begins  as  a  continuation  of  the 
Beka'a  (Coele-Syria),  that  valley  which  stretches 
between  the  Lebanon  on  the  west  and  the  Anti- 
Lebanon  on  the  east,  but  whose  waters  run 
towards  the  north.  Almost  immediately  after 
leaving  Lake  Puleh,  which  is  7  feet  above  the 
level  of  the  Mediterranean,  the  Jordan  begins  to 
fall  below  the  level  of  the  sea  ;  the  Lake  of  Tiberias 
is  682  feet,  the  Dead  Sea  1292  feet,  below  it. 
There  is  not  another  example  of  such  a  marked 
depression  on  the  surface  of  our  globe,  except 
with  tracts  covered  by  the  seas  ;  the  other  cases 
which  may  be  cited  attain  much  less  depths ;  tlie 
greatest  is  about  300  feet  in  the  Sahara,  while, 
taking  into  account  the  depth  of  the  Dead  Sea 
(1300  feet),  we  get  a  total  of  almost  2600  feet. 
G.  A.  Smith  has  well  said  (HGHL  p.  407): 
'  Among  the  rivers  of  the  world  the  Jordan  is 
unique  by  a  twofold  distinction  of  Nature  and 
History.  .  .  .  The  NOe  and  the  Jordan,  otherwise 
so  difl'erent,  are  alike  in  this,  that  the  historical 
singularity  of  each  has  behind  it  as  remarkable  a 
singularity  of  physical  formation.  .  .  .  Every  one 
knows  the  incomparableness  of  the  Nile.  ...  In 
its  own  way  the  Jordan  is  as  solitary  and  extreme 
an  eft'ect  of  natural  forces.  There  may  be  some- 
thing on  the  surface  of  another  jDlanet  to  match 
the  Jordan  Valley  ;  there  is  nothing  in  this.' 

As  regards  the  geological  explanation  of  this  re- 
markable phenomenon,  we  may  say  that  it  was  sup- 
plied in  the  19th  cent,  in  a  very  satisfactory  manner 
by  tlie  experts  who  made  a  study  of  Palestine,  and 
the  valley  of  the  Jordan  and  the  Dead  Sea  in  par- 
ticular :  Fraa*,  Hull,  Lartet,  and  Blanckenhoin. 
The  following  is  briefly  the  result  of  their  labours. 
When,  during  the  Eocene  period,  and  even  before 
it,  during  the  Cretaceous  period,  successive  strata 
of  limestone  had  been  deposited,  there  was  pro- 
duced towards  the  end  of  the  Eocene  epoch,  by  the 
action  of  lateral  (east  and  west)  pressure,  a  falling 
away,  i.e.  a  '  fault '  or  fracture  was  formed  in  the 
earth's  crust.  This  movement,  however,  was  not 
of  a  convulsive  nature,  it  was  not  a  sudden  cata- 
clysm, but  a  slow  and  gradual  process,  extending 


JOEDAN 


JORDAN 


over  a  lon^'  period  of  time.  The  result  of  it  was 
the  formation  of  the  parallel  chains  of  Lebanon 
and  Anti-Lebanon,  and  further  south  that  of  the 
two  ranges  of  hills  which  skirt  the  Jordan  valley. 
The  southern  end  of  this  depression  is,  from  the 
point  of  view  of  the  flow  of  Avater,  a  transverse  rid>'e 
reaching  650  feet  above  the  Red  Sea  and  the  Medi- 
terranean, and  situated  about  46  miles  from  Akabah 
and  more  than  73  miles  from  the  Dead  Sea. 

At  the  end  of  the  Miocene  and  the  beginnin";  of 
the  Pliocene  period,  the  waters  in  the  Jordan  valley 
must  have  been  just  about  at  their  present  level. 
But  the  pluvial  period  (Pliocene)  brought  about  a 
considerable  raising  of  the  aqueous  surface  enclosed  ; 
the  Jordan  valley  became  a  lake  which  must  have 
been  about  200  miles  long  and  more  than  2000  feet 
deep.  The  glacial  period  (post-Pliocene),  during 
which  the  temperature  sank  considerably  and  the 
rainfall  increased,  only  served  to  accentuate  this 
state  of  afl'airs  still  more.  Then,  at  the  close  of 
this  ])eriod,  the  streams  of  water  diminished,  and 
also  the  lake,  until  things  once  more  arrived  at 
tlieir  present  state.  On  the  lateral  slopes  of  the 
valley  traces  of  the  heights  to  which  the  waters 
rose  are  still  distinguishable ;  some  of  the  most 
notable  of  these  traces  are  1180,  others  347,  feet 
above  the  present  level  of  the  Dead  Sea. 

Alongside  of  this  theory,  held  in  common  by 
those  who  liave  studied  this  question,  we  must 
mention,  as  worthy  of  attention,  the  one  which 
W.  Libbey,  Professor  of  Physical  Geography  in 
the  University  of  Princeton,  has  recently  published 
(Libbey  and  Hoskins,  The  Jordan  Valley  and Petra, 
ii.  pp.  251-260). 

The  ancients  were  completely  ignorant  of  the 
fact  that  the  bottom  of  the  Jordan  valley  lay  be- 
low the  level  of  the  Mediterranean  Sea.  Nor  were 
they  aware  at  that  time  that  the  depression  be- 
tween the  Dead  Sea  and  the  Gulf  of  Akabah  was 
intersected  by  a  sort  of  natural  barrier,  forming 
two  anticlinal  slopes  and  making  a  dividing  line 
for  the  waters.  And  even  in  the  tirst  part  of  the 
19th  cent,  it  was  held  by  Carl  Ritter,  W.  M.  Leake, 
de  Hott;  Leon  de  Laborde,  etc.,  that  formerly— 
perhaps  even  in  historical  times  before  the  catas- 
trophe of  Sodom  and  Gomorrah— the  Jordan  passed 
through  the  Dead  Sea,  continued  its  southward 
course,  and  flowed  into  the  Red  Sea.  Those  are 
ideas  which  have  had  to  be  given  up.  It  was  in 
1836-37  that  two  German  scholars,  von  Schubert 
and  Roth,  and  at  the  same  time  two  Englishmen, 
G.  H.  Moore  and  W.  G.  Beke,  discovered  that  the 
Jordan  valley  sank  far  down  below  tlie  level  of 
the  sea.  The  Austrian  Russegger,  the  Frencliman 
Jules  de  Bertou,  and  the  Englishman  Symonds 
soon  confirmed  this  sensational  discovery,  as  a 
consequence  of  explorations  carried  on  in  quite  an 
independent  way.  Before  them,  famous  travellers, 
such  as  Seetzen  (1806-07),  Burckhardt  (1810-12), 
Irby  and  Mangles  (1817-18),  had  visited  those 
same  parts  without  any  suspicion  of  the  strange 
phenomenon  regarding  the  altitude. 

The  course  of  the  Jordan  is  interrupted  twice- 
first  by  the  Lake  of  ^uleh,  a  description  of  which 
occurs  later  in  the  course  of  the  present  article, 
then  by  the  Lake  of  Tiberias  or  Sea  of  Galilee 
(which  see)  ;  we  have  not  to  examine  this  here. 
These  interruptions  quite  naturally  cause  us  to 
divide  the  next  part  of  this  article  into  three  sec- 
tions :  I" I  till-  sdiirces  of  the  Jordan,  (b)  the  Upper 
Joi«  1   ike  Tiberias,  (c)  the  Lower  Jor- 

d.  !  .f  Tiberias  to  the  Dead  Sea. 

3.  /   the  Jordan. — Just  as  in  the 

Al]     I  n  il  opinion  of  mountaineers  does 

not  ulwiiy,  show  as  the  principal  source  of  a  river 
the  one  which  tourists  or  even  geographers  would 
denote  as  such,  so  is  it  with  the  Jordan.  The  most 
northerly  of  its  sources,  the  one  which  gives  rise  to 


the  stream  which  covers  the  longest  distance,  is 
found  near  Hasbeya,  at  1846  feet  above  the  sea, 
at  the  foot  of  the  Great  Hermon.  The  name 
Hasbrini  is  given  to  the  river  which  starts  there 
and  flows  towards  the  south,  following  a  course 
parallel  at  tirst  to  that  of  the  Litani ;  between 
these  twin  vallej-s  there  is  only  a  short  distance 
and  a  ridge  of  mountains  of  moderate  height ;  so 
that  one  might  quite  well  imagine  the  flasbani 
rejoining  the  Litani,  and  falling  along  with  it 
into  the  Mediterranean.  But,  on  the  contrary, 
it  remains  faithful  to  its  course  from  north 
to  south,  and  is  joined  by  a  tributary,  which 
some  modem  scholars  would  include  among  the 
sources  of  the  Jordan — the  Nahr-Bareighit  (Flea 
River),  '  the  smallest  of  the  four  sources  of  tlie 
Jordan '  (Libbey  and  Hoskins,  i.  p.  89),  but  which 
is  usually  left  aside,  so  that  attention  may  be  given 
only  to  the  three  other  more  important  ones.  These 
are,  besides  the  ^asbani,  the  one  which  springs 
forth  at  Tell  el-^tadi,  and  the  one  which  emerges 
from  the  grotto  of  Banias.  The  Tell  el-^^adi  source 
is  called  the  Leddan.  This  unexplained  name  is 
interpreted  by  some  as  containing  an  allusion  to 
the  city  of  Dan,  situated  in  this  region,  and  gener- 
ally (G.  A.  Smith,  however,  is  an  exception,  UGHL 
pp.  480,  678)  identified  with  Tell  el-Kadi,  Kadi, 
'judge,'  being  considered  the  exact  equivalent  of 
the  Heb.  Dan.  The  source  of  Tell  el-^adi  is  double, 
in  the  sense  that  it  streams  forth,  at  500  feet  above 
the  sea,  in  two  places  close  together  under  a  hillock 
which  is  about  300  feet  broad  and  covered  with 
tall  trees,  and  rises  in  a  very  striking  manner  from 
the  plain,  over  which  it  towers  about  60  feet.  The 
stream  which  flows  from  it  is  the  shortest  but  most 
copious  of  the  sources  of  the  Jordan ;  it  is  not, 
therefore,  on  account  of  its  abundance,  but  because 
of  its  short  length,  that  Josephus  calls  it  '  the  little 
Jordan'  (BJ  IV.  i.  1  ;  Ant.  Will.  viii.  4),  or  'the 
lesser  Jordan'  (Ant.  v.  iii.  1).  Lastly,  we  find  the 
'river  of  Bania.s,'  Nahr-Banias,  which  starts  at 
1200  feet  above  the  sea  from  a  grotto,  the  ancient 
shrine  of  the  Semitic,  and  then  of  the  Grjeco-Roman, 
gods,  well  known  under  the  name  of  Paneion,  and 
round  which  arose  the  city  known  under  the  names 
of  CKsarea  Philippi  and  Paneas,  and  now  called 
Banias,  a  corruption  of  the  latter  name.  Josephus 
mentions,  under  the  name  of  Paneas,  both  the 
town  and  the  district  of  which  it  wa,s  the  centre ; 
he  also  mentions  the  Paneion,  and  speaks  of  '  the 
famous  fountain'  (cf.  BJ  I.  xxi.  3,  III.  x.  7  ;  Ant. 
XV.  X.  3,  xvni.  ii.  1).  He  adds  that  the  water  of 
the  source  comes  from  Lake  Phiala,  situated  120 
stades  from  Csesarea;  this  is,  undoubtedly,  the 
small  lake  nowadays  called  Birket-Ram  (cf.  Schu- 
macher in  ZDPV  ix.  [1886]  p.  256  f.),  but  it  is  only 
60  stades  distant.  There  is,  however,  no  subter- 
ranean communication  between  this  lake,  an  ancient 
volcanic  crater,  and  the  Paneion  source. 

The  Leddan  and  the  river  of  Banias  meet  at  an 
altitude  of  14S  feet,  after  the  Leddan  has  flowed 
5  miles.  A  little  fartlier  down,  the  ^Jasbani,  in  its 
turn,  becomes  united  with  them :  whence  the  Jordan 
is  formed. 

4.  The  Upper  Jordan.  — From  the  confluence, 
which  we  have  just  mentioned,  to  the  Lake  of 
Tiberias  the  course  of  the  Jordan  is  unimportant 
from  a  historical  point  of  view.  The  books  of  the 
Bible  do  not  speak  of  it,  and  later  writers  very 
seldom.  Nor,  from  a  specifically  geographical  point 
of  view,  has  this  part  of  the  river  any  great  im- 
portance. Its  chief  interest  lies  in  the  fact  that  at 
10  miles  distance  from  the  confluence  it  forms  a 
lake  or  lagoon,  the  Bahr  or  Buheirat  (lake  or  small 
lake)  Huleh,  triangular  in  shape,  the  level  of  which 
is  7  feet  above  the  Mediterranean,  and  which  is 
rich  in  papyrus  plants.  The  size  of  this  sheet  of 
water  varies  very  much  according  to  the  seasons : 


at  one  time  it  is  a  considerable  limpid  stretch,  at 
another  it  is  simpljf  a  kind  of  huge  morass.  Its  tra- 
ditional identification  with  '  the  waters  of  Merora ' 
(Jos  ll''- ')  must  be  regarded  with  caution  (cf.  ZDPV 
ix.  [1886]  p.  252) ;  the  evidence  of  Josephus  is  not 
favourable.  He  gives  this  lake  another  name,  that 
of  '  the  lake  of  the  Semechouites '  (BJ  IV.  i.  1 ;  cf . 
ZDPV  I.e.  and  p.  348  f.).  As  regards  the  modern 
name  HuUh,  it  is  perhaps  derived  from  the  word 
Ulatha,  by  which  Josephus  denotes  a  district  near 
Banias.  For  the  description  of  the  whole  upper 
course  of  the  Jordan  from  its  sources  to  the  Lake 
of  Tiberias,  including  Lake  ^uleh,  see  Macgregor, 
The  Rob  Roy  on  the  Jonhm,  1869,  5th  ed.  1880. 

As  soon  as  it  leaves  Lake  yuleh,  the  Jordan 
begins  to  flow  below  the  level  of  the  sea,  and  falls 
almost  700  feet  in  a  distance  of  10  miles.  We 
must  here  notice  a  bridge,  the  Jlsr  Bendt-YcClfub, 
'  bridge  of  Jacob's  Daughters,'  sometimes  ^vrongly 
called  '  bridge  of  Jacob '  or  '  bridge  of  Jacob's 
Sons ' ;  the  name  itself  is  really  difficult  to  explain  ; 
see  on  this  subject  an  ingenious  solution  suggested 
in  PEFSt,  1898,  p.  29  f.,  by  B.  Z.  Friedmann. 

5.  The  Lower  Jordan. — The  Jordan  issues  from 
the  Lake  of  Tiberias  at  a  place  called  Bab  et-Tum, 
leaving  on  the  east  the  little  modern  village  of 
Semakh,  which  has  no  bridge  connecting  it  with 
the  right  bank,  and  as  the  river  is  not  fordable  at 
this  place,  the  passage,  naturally  of  frequent 
occurrence,  is  accoiuplisheJ  by  means  of  boats.  A 
little  farther  down  tliere  are  the  remains  of  an 


Kanatir,  and  again  at  a  short  distance  below,  the 
ruins  of  another  bridge,  Umm  es-Sidd.  There  the 
Jordan  begins  to  assume  a  very  sinuous  course, 
describing  endless  meanders  ;  Pliny  spoke  of  it  as 
an  amnis  airobitiosiis,  i.e.  a  winding  river.  The 
distance  in  a  straight  line  from  the  Lake  of  Tiberias 
to  the  Dead  Sea  is  about  65  miles,  but  if  we  take 
into  account  all  the  sinuosities  of  the  river  it 
reaches  a  total  of  200  miles. 

The  Jordan  valley  at  this  part  is  now  called  the 
Gh6r,  i.e.  'depression,'  'valley.'  Even  in  the  OT 
it  was  designated  (Jos  13''-'-')  by  the  name  ha- 
'emek,  '  the  valley,'  in  opposition  to  the  neighbour- 
ing heights.  But  a  name  much  more  frequent  in 
the  OT  is  'Arabah,  which  was  applied  to  the  valley 
to  the  north  as  well  as  that  to  the  south  of  the 
Dead  Sea ;  nowadays  the  name  'Arabah,  which 
has  been  preserved,  is  applied  only  to  the  valley 
to  the  south  of  the  Dead  Sea.  In  Greek,  not  in 
the  LXX,  but  in  Jos.,  Eusebius,  etc.,  'Arabah  is 
rendered  AuXuiv.  Josephus  also  uses  the  expressions 
'wide  wilderness'  and  'the  great  plain'  (BJ  III.  x.  7, 
IV.  viii.  2;  A.nt.  IV.  vi.  1). 

The  Ghdr  is  hemmed  in  on  either  side  by  chains 
of  mountains,  or  at  least  hills,  of  variable  height, 
but  sometimes  rising  1500  or  even  1800  feet  above 
the  bed  of  the  river.  The  slopes  are  generally 
somewhat  steep,  but  not  to  such  an  extent  as  to 
prevent  their  being  scaled.  Especially  at  the  spots 
where  the  wadis  come  down  from  one  of  the  side 
mountains,  means  of  access  are  opened  up.  The 
soil  of  the  valley  is  fertile,  especially  in  the  northern 
and  middle  parts.  As  to  the  river  Itself,  it  flows  in  a 
bed  which  it  has  hollowed  out  for  itself,  called  the 
Zdr.  This  bed  is  somewhat  variable  in  breadth,  and 
it  may  be  easily  seen  that  the  river  has  frequently 
changed  its  course.  Thus  at  Damieh,  of  which  we 
shall  speak  below,  and  wliere  we  find  the  half- 
ruined  arches  of  a  bridge  of  the  Middle  Ages,  the 
Jordan  actually  no  longer  passes  under  the  bridge, 
but  at  some  distance  from  it.  Tlie  ground  border- 
ing either  side  of  the  river  is  covered  with  very 
thick  brushwood ;  this  is  undoubtedly  what  is 
called  in  Jer  12=  49^^  50«,  Zee  11^  the  piin  ]W3,  i.e. 
'the  majesty  (RV  'pride')  of  Jordan'  (AV  '  the 
swelling  of  Jordan'  [in  the  Jer.  passages]  arises 


from  a  wrong  interpretation,  as  if  the  reference 
here  was  to  the  floods  of  Jordan ;  these  do  exist ; 
they  are  sometimes  sudden  and  very  violent, 
rendering  the  fords  impassable ;    cf.  Jos  3^^,  Sir 

The  vegetation,  especially  as  we  go  further  south, 
becomes  very  nearly  tropical,  and  the  faima  re- 
sembles that  of  Africa.  The  lion,  which  abounded  in 
ancient  times,  and  continued  to  be  encountered  even 
in  the  Middle  Ages,  has  completely  disappeared. 
But  other  carnivorous  animals  are  found  here, 
leopards  and  hytenas,  as  well  as  wild  boars,  porcu- 
pines, etc.  In  Palestine  58  species  of  bii'ds  are  met 
with,  which  are  also  N.  African :  nearly  all  of 
them  belong  to  the  Gh6r.  The  flora  has  the  same 
character,  it  recalls  that  of  Nubia,  Abyssinia,  the 
Sahara,  and  the  region  of  the  great  African  lakes. 
Great  heat  prevails  throughout  this  whole  region, 
a  fact  which  is  (juite  naturally  explained  when  we 
remember  that  it  is  a  valley  shut  in  between  high 
walls,  at  its  highest  point  682  and  at  its  lowest 
1292  feet  below  the  sea-level.  The  temperature 
varies  from  77°  to  130°  Fahr.  This  circumstance 
undoubtedly  accounts  largely  for  the  fact  that 
there  are  not  and  never  have  been  any  towns  on 
the  banks  of  the  Jordan.  But  another  reason  for 
the  latter  important  fact  may  be  found  in  the 
danger  to  which  the  inhabitants  would  be  exposed, 
owing  to  the  impossibility  of  ett'ectually  fortifying 
themselves  against  attacks.  The  few  towns  of 
the  Gh&r  at  one  time  populated,  e.g.  Phasael  and 
Jericho,  are  on  the  height  at  some  distance  from 
the  river,  near  protecting  mountains.  The  other 
inhabited  places  are  only  wretched  villages. 

The  Jordan  forms  a  very  large  number  of  rapids ; 
about  thirty  may  be  counted,  apart  from  the  whirl- 
pools, which  are  numerous.  'There  is  also  a  con- 
siderable number  of  fords  ;  the  majority  of  them — 
22— are  in  the  northern  part,  to  the  north  of  Karn 
Sartabeh  ;  there  are  5  more  in  the  south.  A  little 
to  tiie  north  of  Beisan  there  is  a  bridge,  which  dates 
from  the  Middle  Ages,  the  Jisr  el-Mujamieh,  on  the 
way — an  ancient  Roman  road — leading  from  the 
plain  of  Jezreel  to  Gadara  and  Damascus.  Further 
south  is  the  ruined  bridge  of  Damieh  ;  and  lastly, 
near  Jericho,  a  modern  bridge,  the  Jisr  el-Ghor- 
anieh,  at  the  place  where  the  mosaic  map  of 
Madaba  indicates  a  ferry-boat.  For  information 
regarding  the  fords  of  the  Jordan,  see  G.  A.  Smith, 
HGffLp.  336  f. 

The  configuration  of  the  Jordan  valley  is  remark- 
able for  its  formation  into  terraces  (in  Arabic 
tnbakdt),  the  river  flowing  between  the  lowermost 
of  these.  There  is  no  comparatively  equal  and 
continuous  incline  from  the  mountain  to  the  river, 
but  a  succession  of  horizontal  platforms,  with 
sudden  and  very  steep  slopes,  which  form  what  are 
called  the  steep  banks  or  clift's  of  Jordan.  They 
are  marly,  and  have  a  tendency  to  become  worn, 
and  even  to  give  way.  The  Z6r  itself  is  bordered 
by  them,  and  the  Jordan  often  flows,  at  least  at 
one  side,  along  the  foot  of  a  declivity  impossible  of 
ascent.  This  is  the  case,  e.g.,  in  front  of  the  so- 
called  place  of  the  Baptism  at  the  latitude  of 
Jericho.  These  terraces  correspond  to  the  ditterent 
levels  attained  by  the  waters  of  the  great  lake 
which  at  one  time  filled  the  whole  valley,  and 
which  first  increased  and  then  sank  down  again. 

The  Jordan  is  fed  by  numerous  tributaries.  The 
most  important  of  these  are  on  the  left  bank.  One  of 
them,  the  Hieromax  of  the  Greeks,  the  Yarmiik  of 
the  Rabbis,  the  Sherl'at  el-Manadireh  of  the  Arabs, 
already  mentioned  above,  flows  down  from  the  high 
plateau  on  tlie  east  of  Lake  Tiberias,  and  passes 
between  the  warm  springs  of  el-9ammah  and  the 
ancient  Gadara  (modern  Umm  Keis).  Further 
south,  also  on  the  eastern  bank,  the  Jordan  receives 
the  Zerka  (blue  river),  the  Yabbok  of  ancient  times. 


900 


JORDAN 


JORDAN 


which,  after  passing  'Amman  (Rabbath- Amnion, 
Philadelphia),  describes  an  immense  semi-circle 
towards  the  east,  resumes  its  westward  course, 
passes  to  the  south  of  Jerask  (Gerasa),  and  at  last 
empties  itself  into  the  Jordan  ;  the  position  of  its 
mouth  has  considerably  changed  in  the  course  of 
the  centuries.  On  the  right  bank,  we  must  men- 
tion the  Nahr-Jalud,  which  springs  from  the 
fountain  of  5arod  at  the  foot  of  Mt.  Gilboa  and 
passes  to  Beisan  ;  then,  close  to  Jericho,  the  Wadi 
el-Kelt,  which  tradition,  probably  wrongly,  identi- 
fies' mth  the  Cherith  of  the  Bible. 

It  is  scarcely  necessary  to  say  that  the  Jordan  is 
not  navigable.  Yet  on  three  occasions  the  attempt 
has  been  made  to  sail  down  its  course  from  the 
Lake  of  Tiberias  to  the  Dead  Sea.  The  first  time 
it  was  an  Irishman,  Costigan,  who,  in  1835,  accom- 
plished this  daring  feat  alone  in  a  boat  for  one  oars- 
man ;  the  second  time  it  was  Lieutenant  Molyneux, 
of  the  British  Navy,  in  1847.  Both  succeeded  in 
reaching  the  Dead  Sea,  but  both  died  soon  after 
from  the  strain  which  they  had  undergone.  Lastly, 
in  1848,  an  American  expedition,  under  Lieutenant 
Lynch,  sailed  all  the  way  do^vn  in  two  boats  speci- 
ally built  for  the  jjurpose,  reached  the  Dead  Sea, 
and  were  able  to  record  a  whole  series  of  very  useful 
observations.  Other  travellers  have  also  made  a 
careful  study  of  the  Jordan  valley,  but  from  the 
land ;  besides  those  whom  we  have  already  men- 
tioned, we  may  recall  the  names  of  Robinson, 
Gu6rin,  and  Conder.     Long  before  there  was  any 

?[uestion  of  scientific  explorations,  pilgrims  had 
oUowed  the  course  of  the  Jordan  through  the 
whole  of  the  Ghdr,  e.g.  Antonius  Martyr  in  the 
6th  cent.,  Willibald  in  the  8th ;  we  may  add  to 
these  the  name  of  King  Baldwin  I. ,  who  passed  up 
from  Jericlio  to  the  Lake  of  Tiberias. 

While  the  northern  part  of  the  Ghdr  is  fertile, 
and  more  especially  the  environs  of  Beisan,  it  is 
very  different  in  the  south,  near  Jericho.  This 
town,  it  is  true,  and  its  immediate  neighbourhood, 
form  a  kind  of  oasis  ;  but  the  rest  of  this  region  is 
not  nearly  so  rich,  the  soil  being  impregnated  with 
salt  substances ;  one  is  reminded  of  the  nearness  of 
the  Dead  Sea. 

It  is  this  district  that  is  referred  to  in  the  passarjes  of  the  OT 
where  the  'Jordan  of  Jericho*  is  spoken  of.  Tliis  does  not 
mean  a  particular  branch  of  the  river,  far  less  another  stream  of 
the  same  name  (as,  e,g,^  they  say  in  Valais,  '  the  Visp  of  Saas ' 
and  '  the  Visp  of  Zermatt  ')■  It  is  simplv  '  the  Jordan  in  the 
district  of  Jericho.'  See  Nu  22'  263-  63  31i-  33-18-  50  3415  351  3013 
Job  1332  161  208,  1  ch  663(78).  We  must  correct  the  AV  and  RV 
this  respect,  and  remember   that  Jordan   is  originally  a 


Another  Biblical  expression  referring  to  this  particular  region 
is  Kikkar  hay-Yarden  (pn:n  135),  Gn  ISiOf-,  or  hak-Kikkar  (Gn 
1312  1917. 25. 28f.,  Neh  322  1228),  lit.  '  the  circle '  (i.e.  the  basin)  of 
the  Jordan,  or,  more  briefly,  '  the  circle ' ;  in  Greek  r,  .ripix'^pc; 
T«D  'Ufiita,  (LXX,  Mt  35,  Lk  33).  It  may  seem  at  first  sight  that 
**"" ''~i  should  apply  to  the  whole  valley,  but  it  is  more 


Dead  Sea,  with  Jericho  as  centre  (cf.  Dt  343),  and  stretching 
northwards  until  near  Sartabeh  (cf.  2  S  \«-K  1  K  7«,  2  Ch  4"), 


uding  the 


and  perhaps  also  inc 

latter  point  depends  c 

Kikkar  (Cities  of  the  Plain"),  and  to  z£ar  in  particula 

present  writer  thinks  their  site  ought  to  be  sought  to  the 

of  the  Dead  Sea,  and  this  frees  him  from  the  necessity  of  t 

also  find  as  i 


.  designation  of  the  region  of  Jericho,  the 
pnrasearfiotA  i'ericho  (Jos  510, 2  K  255),  and  for  the  district  facing 
It,  to  the  east  of  the  Jordan,  'arboth  Moali  (Nu  22'  263-63  3112 
33J8-50  351  361S,  Dt  341. 8,  Jos  1332).  The  Hebrew  word  used  here 
is  the  plural  of  'Arabah. 

6.  Historical  and  political  rdle. — It  is  a  common- 
place to  say  that  the  Jordan  separates  E.  Palestine 
from  \V.  Palestine.  But  one  often  yields  to  the 
temptation  to  over-estimate  the  importance  of  this 
separation.  The  Jordan  has  been  called  '  the  gieat 
Divider.'  We  should  not  exaggerate.  The  separa- 
tion does  exist,  but  it  is  not  so  great  as  peo])le 
think.  And  if  separation  there  is,  it  is  not  the 
river  itself,  wth  its  narrow  breadth— 45  to  90  feet 


on  an  average,  at  places  perhaps  as  broad  as  180  (?) 
feet — and  its  numerous  fords,  that  constitute  it ;  it 
is  rather  the  vallev  as  a  whole,  the  GhOr  enclosed 
between  its  lateral  ramparts,  with  its  intolerable 
heat,  and  its  want  of  securitjr.  The  stream  itself 
is  so  little  of  an  obstacle  that  it  is  constantly  being 
crossed,  easily,  too  easily. 

In  ancient  times  it  kept  back  neither  armies  nor 
raids.  The  pilgi-ims  of  Galilee,  who  in  the  times 
of  Judaism  made  their  way  to  Jerusalem,  had  so 
little  dread  of  passing  the  nver  that  they  chose  to 
cross  it  twice  and  make  their  journey  by  way  of 
Peraea  rather  than  pass  through  the  territory  of  the 
Samaritans.  John  the  Baptist  baptized  beyond 
the  Jordan,  and  that  did  not  prevent  crowds  from 
going  to  him.  Later  on,  the  river  was  again 
crossed  at  all  times  and  with  great  ease,  and  down 
to  the  most  recent  epochs  the  incursions  of  trans- 
Jordan  Bedawin  have  not  been  prevented  by  the 
river,  any  more  than  the  expeditions  sent  forth  in 
pursuit  of  them.  And  this  Avas  as  little  the  case 
when  the  Midianites  invaded  the  territory  of  the 
Israelites,  and  Gideon  put  them  to  rout  and  pur- 
sued them,  while  the  Ephraimites  held  the  fords. 
The  mountain-slopes  are  here  and  there  quite 
accessible ;  it  is  easy  to  descend  and  ascend  the 
lateral  wadis.  The  valley  which  stretches  down 
from  Jezreel  to  Beisan  is  the  most  convenient  of 
the  great  routes,  and  there  are  many  others.  G. 
A.  Smith  has  admirably  shown  the  close  connexion 
between  Samaria  and  the  country  of  Gilead  (HGHL 
p.  335  ff.). 

The  Jordan  valley  is  so  inefl'ectual  a  barrier,  that 
at  all  times  the  possessors  of  the  western  district 
have  felt  the  necessity  of  establishing  themselves 
on  the  eastern  bank  for  the  sake  of  safety.  The 
24  tribes  of  Israel  quartered  on  the  left  bank  were 
a  rampart  guarding  their  western  brethren  from 
the  invaders  and  pillagers  of  the  east.  The  Romans 
realized  the  need  of  occupying  the  country  across  the 
Jordan  in  a  strong  and  unassailable  manner.  And 
in  our  day  security  was  not  really  re-established  on 
the  west  of  the  Jordan  until  the  Turkish  Govern- 
ment imposed  its  authority  in  a  firm  and  permanent 
fashion m  the  provinces  east  of  the  river. 

7.  OT  references. — It  has  been  well  said  (Jewish 
Eiici/c.  vii.  p.  239),  '  There  is  no  regular  description 
of  the  Jordan  in  the  Bible ;  only  scattered  and 
indefinite  references  to  it  are  given.'  There  are 
176  references  to  the  Jordan  in  the  OT,  the 
majority  of  which  are  found  in  the  narrative  books 
of  Jos.  (67),  Deut.  (26),  Nu.  (20),  Sam.  (17  : 2-1-15), 
Kings  (12:3-^9),  Jg.  (12),  Ch.  (7:1-1-6),  Gn.  (5). 
But  by  far  the  greater  number  of  those  have  to  do 
with  topographical  expressions  such  as  '  on  this  side 
Jordan,'  'beyond  Jordan,'  'to  go  over  Jordan,' 
'by  Jordan.'  If  those  cases  are  deducted,  all 
that  remain  are  very  few.  Besides,  as  the  present 
Dictionary  is  devoted  to  the  Gospels,  we  have  not 
to  enter  into  details  as  we  should  have  to  do  if  it 
treated  of  the  OT.  We  shall  confine  ourselves 
therefore  t«  noting  the  following.  («)  The  crossing 
of  the  Jordan  by  the  Israelites  (Jos  3-4 :  cf.  Ps 
114^-^).  This  narrative  must  be  compared  with 
what  happened  on  the  8th  of  December  1267  at  the 
bridge  of  Damieh,  in  the  reign  of  the  Sultan 
Beibars  I.  (1260-77),  according  to  the  Arabic  his- 
torian Nowairi  (PEFSt,  1895,  pp.  '253-261,  334- 
338),  and  the  mention  of  a  similar  fact  in  the  Val 
Blenio,  in  Tessin,  when  in  1512  a  landslip  stopped 
the  flow  of  a  stream  for  14  months,  after  which 
a  clearance  was  efi'ected  by  the  bursting  of  the 
barrier  which  had  been  formed,  (b)  The  seizing 
of  the  fords  of  the  Jordan  by  Ehud  after  the 
murder  of  Eglon  (Jg  32").  (c)  The  campaign  of 
Gideon  (Jg  7-8)  against  Midian.  (d)  That  of  Jeph- 
thah  against  the  Ephraimites  (Jg  12).  (c)  The 
flight  of  David  before  Absalom,  the  battle  which 


JORDAN 


901 


followed  it  and  the  return  of  David  to  Jerusalem 
(2  S  17-2'  =■■  19'«-")  [on  tliis  point  tlie  Hebrew  text 
speaks  (19"'<"'l)  of  a  .Ti?y^  for  enabling  the  king  to 
cross  from  the  other  side  of  the  river ;  Jos.  {A  tit. 
VII.  xi.  2)  renders  this  word  by  ye<t>vpa,  '  bridge,' 
but  it  more  probably  refers  to  a  ferry-boat].  {/) 
The  crossing  of  Elijah  with  Elislia,  and  the  return 
of  the  latter  alone  (2  K  2).  (g)  Two  other  narratives 
referring  to  Elisha :  Naaman  (2  K  S'""^-),  and  the 
adventure  of  the  lost  axe  (2  K  6'').  (h)  The  reference 
in  1  Mac  5-^- ''-  9^^""'  to  certain  incidents  of  war, 
relating  to  the  struggles  of  the  Jews  with  the 
Syrians.  In  the  poetical  and  prophetic  books,  the 
Jordan  is  scarcely  mentioned  ;  we  have  already  had 
occasion  to  quote  the  few  texts  where  it  occurs. 

8.  NT  references. — Here  again,  several  times, 
the  Jordan  is  mentioned  in  the  phrase  '  beyond 
Jordan.'  See  Mt  4'^  (which  quotes  Is  9')  4^5  19', 
Mk  3»  W.  All  the  other  passages  of  the  Gospels 
which  mention  the  Jordan  are  connected  with  the 
ministiy  of  John  the  Baptist,  and  the  baptism  of 
Jesus,  or  make  a  retrospective  allusion  to  them. 
Thus  Mt  3*,  INIk  V,  Lk  3^  describe  John  at  work, 
preaching  and  baptizing ;  and  on  this  point  Mt. 
and  Lk.  mention  the  Tnpixoipo!  of  the  Jordan,  a 
word  which  we  explained  Avhen  speaking  of  the 
Kikkdr  of  the  OT  (see  above,  §  5).  Others  (Mt  3'', 
Mk  V>)  show  us  Jesus  baptized  'in  the  Jordan,' 
and  then  leaving  the  banks  of  the  river  (Lk  4')  in 
order  to  go  away  to  the  desert.  The  Gospel  of 
Jolm  is  the  only  one  which  defines  more  precisely 
the  place  where  John  liaptized  and  where  Jesus 
was  baptized.  Jn  P**  tells  us  that  'these  things 
were  done  in  Bethany  beyond  Jordan,  where  John 
was  baptizing,'  and  two  later  passages  in  the  same 
Gospel  recall  the  same  fact ;  3-"  '  He  that  was  with 
thee  beyond  Jordan,'  and  10*"  '  He  went  away 
again  beyond  Jordan  to  the  place  where  John  at 
first  baptized.'  See  art.  Bethabaea.  "Without 
entering  here  into  the  discussion  of  the  problem 
which  is  raised  by  the  substitution  (by  Origen)  of 
Betluxbara  for  Bethany,  we  may  say  that  the  latter 
is  infinitely  better  attested,  and  ought  to  be  pre- 
ferred (this  does  away  with  the  topographical 
hypotheses  based  on  Bethabara).  As  regards 
Bethany,  the  knowledge  at  our  disposal  does  not 
enable  us  to  determine  its  site.  It  must  be  (a) 
beyond  Jordan,  which  excludes  the  traditional  so- 
called  '  place  of  the  Baptism '  near  Jericho ;  and 
(b)  near  Jordan,  which  renders  improbable  the  sug- 
gestions of  Grove,  Wilson,  and  Cheyne,  who  would 
combine  Bethany  and  Bethabara  into  Bethanabra, 
and  the  view  of  Furrer  ('Das  Geog.  im  Ev.  nach 
Joh.'  in  ZNTW,  1902,  p.  257  f.),  put  forward  also  by 
Zahn  {EM.  NT  ii.  p.  561),  and  noted  by  Sanday 
(Sacred  Sites  of  the  Gospels,  p.  94),  which  identifies 
Bethany  -jvith  Betaneh  =  Betonim  (Jos  IS^}.  See 
on  this  special  question  Lagrange,  'Bethanie  et 
Bethabara'  in  jRB  iv.  [1895]  pp.  502-522;  G.  A. 
Smith,  HGHL  p.  496  ;  C.  Mommert,  Aenon  und 
Bethania,  1903,  pp.  1-19,  30-56. 

LiTERATDEE.— SIFP  i 


a,  pp. 261- 

Seetzen,  Reken,  i.  pp.  323-343,  ii.  269-271, 296-323 ;  Burckhardt, 
Travels,  pp.  342-347 ;  Irby  and  Mangles,  Travels,  p.  91  ff. ; 
Buckingham,  Travels  in  Palestine,  ii.  p.  92  ff..  Travels  anmng 
the  Arab  Tribes,  pp.  6-15  ;  von  Schubert,  Reise  in  das  Mornen- 


land,  iii.  pp.  67-94  ;  de  Bertou,  '  Voyage  depuis  les  s 
Jourdain  Jusqu'  i  la  Mer  Rouge'  in  BtW  ■'     "'  ' 
Giographie,  1839,  pp.  114-168 ;  Molvn 


BtUletin^  de  la  Society  de 

„     ,       .         .  .^     ---  --, ,  —-edition  to  the 

Jordan  and  the  Dead  Sea '  in  Jour.  R.  Geog.  Sac.  xviii.J1848] 


ii.[ 
104-130,  of.  p.  xxxvi;   Lynch,   Narrative   of  the    Ut 
»  Expedition  to  the  RijVer  Jordan  and  the  Dead  Sea,  1849, 
■  Robinson,  'Depression 

'  "  I  Jour.  R.  Geog.  Soc. 


the  same  author's  OJicial  Report, 

of  the  Dead  Sea  and  of  the  Jordan  Valley 

xviii.  [1848]  pp.  77-88,  the  same  author's  Physical  Geography  of 

the  Holy  Land,  pp.  66-95,  llC-13i),  and  his  BRP  i.  63"7-568,  iii. 

390^18 ;  Petermann,  '  On  the  Fall  of  the  Jordan  '  in  Jour.  R. 

Geog.  Soc.  xviii.  [1848]  pp.  89-104  ;  Eitter,  Erdkunde,  xv.  pp. 

162-238,  266-281,  358-556,  698-723,  the  same  author's  Der  Jordan 


und  die  Beschijfiiiig  dcs  Todteii  ilccn.-,  Isr.ll ;  Tohler,  Topo- 
graphm,  ii.  pp.  669-719;  Lartet,  Exploratuni  ij,'olngiq\ie  de  la 
Mer  Morte,  1878;  Reclus,  Giographie  uiurrrsrll,-,  i.\.  ])p.  727- 
736;  Lortet,  La  Syrie  d'aujaurd'hui,  pji.  44;j-47(i,  .'i43-563; 
Guerin,  Samarie,  i.  pp.  97-109,  239-24U,  Guld,t\  i.  laj,  2^2-286, 
342,  ii.  297,  308-310,  338,  460  f.  ;  G.  A.  Smith,  HGHL  pp.  465- 
496  ;  Buhl,  GAP  pp.  35-39,  111-113,  115  f.  ;  Thomson,  LB  i.  pp. 
359-370,  ii,  pp.  447-469,  46S-473 ;  Hull,  '  Memoir  on  the  Geology 
and  Geography  of  Arabia  Petraea,  Palestine,'  etc.,  in  SWP, 
1889,  pp.  3-20,  29  ff.,  103-120,  the  same  author's  Mount  Scir, 
Sinai,  and  Western  Palestine,  1889,  pp.  75-143, 169-169  ;  Conder, 
Tent  Works,  pp.  214-236  ;  MacCoun,  The  Holy  Land  in  Geog- 
raphy and  History,  1897,  i.  pp.  1-3,  47-50,  ii.  p.  30 ;  Newbold, 
'  The  Lake  Phiala,  the  Jordan  and  its  Sources '  in  JRAS  xvi. 
[1856]  pp.  8-31 ;  J.  L.  Porter,  Through  Samaria  to  Galilee  and 
the  Jordan,  1889,  pp.  114-143,  266-298  ;  Dawson,  Modem  Science 
m  Bible  Lands,  pp.  313-319,  338-364  ;  Libbey  and  Hoskins,  The 
Jordan  Valley  and  Petra,  1906  ;  Fraas,  Aus  dem  Orient,  1867, 
pp.  72-78,  204-206 ;  Blanckenhom,  '  Entstehung  und  Ge- 
schichte  des  Todten  Meeres'  in  ZDPV  xjx.  [1896]  pp.  1-69. 
LUCIEN  Gautier. 
JORIM. — Named  in  our  Lord's  genealogy  (Lk  3="). 

JOSECH  (AV  Joseph).— l^&m&A.  in  our  Lord's 

genealogy  (Lk  3™). 

JOSEPH  ('Iwffvi^).— 1.  The  patriarch,  mentioned 
only  in  the  description  of  the  visit  of  Jesus  to  Sychar 
(Jn  4'). — 2.  3.  Joseph  son  of  Mattathias  and  Joseph 
son  of  Jonam  are  both  named  in  the  genealogy  of 
Jesus  given  in  Lk.  (3=^-  =»).*— 4.  One  of  the  bretliren 
of  the  Lord,  Mt  13«  (KY  Josea,  the  form  adopted 
in  both  AV  and  RV  in  Mt  27'»',  Mk  6^  15*- «.  See 
Joses). 

5.  Joseph,  the  husband  of  Mary  and  the  reputed 
father  of  Jesus  (Lk  3^),  is  not  mentioned  in  Mk., 
and  only  indirectly  in  Jn.  (1*^  6^).  He  was  of 
Davidic  descent ;  and,  though  Mt.  and  Lk.  differ 
in  the  genealogical  details,  they  connect  Jesus  with 
Joseph  and  through  him  with  David  (Mt  l'^^-,  Lk 
323ff).  Joseph,  who  was  a  carpenter  (Mt  13")  and 
a  poor  man,  as  his  ofi'ering  in  the  temple  showed 
(Lk  2^),  lived  in  Nazareth  (2'')  and  was  espoused 
to  Mary,  also  of  Nazareth  (1=«).  By  their  be- 
trothal they  entered  into  a  relationship  which, 
though  not  the  completion  of  marriage,  could  be 
dissolved  only  by  death  or  divorce.  Before  the 
marriage  ceremony  Mary  was  '  found  with  chOd  of 
the  Holy  Ghost,'  but  the  angelic  annunciation  to 
her  was  not  made  known  to  Joseph.  He  is  de- 
scribed as  a  just  man  (Mt  1''),  a  strict  observer  of 
the  Law.  The  law  was  stern  (Dt  W^-  =<'),  but  its 
severity  had  been  mitigated  and  divorce  had  taken 
the  place  of  death.  Divorce  could  be  efl'ected 
publicly,  so  that  the  shame  of  the  woman  might 
be  seen  by  all ;  or  it  could  be  done  privately,  by 
the  method  of  handing  the  bill  of  separation  to  the 
woman  in  presence  of  two  witnesses.!  Joseph,  not 
willing  to  make  Mary  a  public  example,  '  was 
minded  to  put  her  away  privily'  (Mt  1").  An 
angel,  however,  appeared  to  him  in  a  dream,  telling 
him  not  to  fear  to  marry  Mary,  as  the  conception 
was  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  and  also  that  she  would 
bring  forth  a  son,  whom  be  was  to  name  Jesus 
(y  2o(.)  -pjjg  fiream  was  accepted  as  a  revelation,  J 
as  a  token  of  Divine  favour,  and  Joseph  took 
Mary  as  his  ^vife,  but  did  not  live  with  her  as  her 
husband  till  she  had  brought  forth  her  firstborn 
son  (y.^-). 

Before  the  birth  of  Christ  there  was  an  Imperial 
decree  that  all  the  Avorld  should  be  taxed,  and 
Joseph,  being  of  the  house  and  lineage  of  David, 
had  to  leave  Nazareth  and  go  to  Bethlehem,  to  be 
taxed  with  Maiy.§    In  Bethlehem  Jesus  was  born  ; 

*  Joseph  the  son  of  Juda  in  v.26  (AV)  becomes  Josech  the  son 
of  Joda  in  RV. 

t  Cf.  Edersheim,  The  Life  and  Times  of  Jesus  the  Messiah, 
i.  154.  Dalman  asserts  that  Edersheim  is  incorrect  in  stating 
that  public  divorce  was  possible  (see  Hastings'  VB,  art. 
*  Joseph '). 

t  Op.  cit.  i.  166. 

5  On  the  question  of  the  visit  to  Bethlehem  see  Eamsay's 
Was  Christ  born  at  Bethlehem? 


902 


JOSEPH 


JOSES 


and  there  the  shepherds,  to  whom  the  angel  had 
announced  the  birth  of  the  Saviour,  found  Maryl- 
and Joseph  and  '  the  babe  lying  in  a  manger'  (Lk 
2'*).  At  the  circumcision,  on  the  eighth  day  after 
the  birth,  the  child  received  the  name  'Jesus' 
which  Joseph  had  been  commanded  to  give  Him  ; 
and  on  a  later  daj,  wlien  Mary's  purification  was 
accomplished  (cf.  Lv  12--  '■  *),  she  and  Joseph  took 
Jesus  to  the  temple  in  Jerusalem  (Lk  2~),  to 
'  present  him  to  the  Lord '  *  and  to  offer  a  sacrifice, 
according  to  the  requirements  of  the  law  (Ex  13-', 
Lv  12*).  Joseph  fulfilled  the  law  as  if  he  were  the 
father  of  Jesus ;  and  after  the  ceremonies  in  the 
temple  he  must  have  returned  with  Mary  and  her 
son  to  Bethlehem,  which  was  6  miles  distant  from 
Jerusalem.  In  Bethlehem  the  Wise  Men  who  had 
come  from  the  East  saw  Mary  and  'the  young 
child '  and  worshipped  Him ;  and  after  their  de- 
parture the  angel  of  the  Lord  appeared  again  to 
Jo.seph,  bidding  him  take  Mary  and  the  child  and 
flee  into  Egypt  on  account  of  Herod,  who  would 
seek  to  destroy  Him  (Mt  2'^).  Joseph  was  quick 
to  obey,  and  rising  in  the  night  he  took  the  young 
child  and  His  mother  and  departed  for  Egypt, 
where  Herod  had  no  authority  (v.").  In  Egypt 
they  were  to  remain  till  the  angel  brought  word  to 
Joseph  (v.'") ;  and  there  they  dwelt,  possibly  two 
or  even  three  years,  till  the  death  of  Herod,  when 


the  angel  again  appeared  in  a  dream  to  Joseph 

'  icled  him  to  take  the  young 

and  His  mother  and  go  into  the  land  of  Israel. 


The  angel  commancfed  him  to  take  the  young  child 


Obedience  was  at  once  given  by  Joseph,  but  he 
became  afraid  when  he  learned  that  Archelaus  was 
reigning  in  Judaea.  Again  the  angel  appeared  in  a 
dream,  and  after  a  warning  Joseph  proceeded  to 
Nazareth,  which  was  not  under  the  rule  of  Arche- 
laus, who  had  an  evil  reputation,  but  under  that 
of  the  mUder  Antipas  (vv.""^). 

It  is  recorded  of  Joseph  that  he  and  Mary  went 
every  year,  at  the  Passover,  to  Jerusalem,  and  that 
when  Jesus  was  twelve  years  of  age  He  acconi- 

Sanied  them.  On  that  occasion  Jesus  tarried  in 
erusalem,  after  Joseph  and  Mary,  thinking  He 
was  with  them  in  the  company,  had  left  the  city. 
AVhen  they  had  gone  a  day's  journey  they  found 
He  was  not  with  them,  and  they  turned  back  to 
Jerusalem.  After  three  days  they  found  Him  in 
the  temple  among  the  doctors,  and  they  were 
amazed.  Mary's  words,  '  Son,  why  hast  thou  thus 
dealt  mth  us  ?  behold,  thy  father  and  I  have  sought 
thee  sorrowing, '  called  forth  an  answer  which  Josepli 
and  Mary  did  not  understand.  But  after  the  in- 
cident in  Jerusalem,  Jesus  went  with  them  tn 
Nazareth  and  'was  subject  unto  them'  (Lk  2^'-''). 
Mary's  words  and  the  record  of  the  subjection  of 
Jesus  to  her  and  Joseph  indicate  that  Joseph  stood 
to  Jesus  in  tlie  place  of  an  eartlily  father.  How 
long  that  relationship  continued  is  unknown,  since 
the  time  of  the  death  of  Joseph  is  not  stated  in  the 
Gospels.  It  may  be  accepted  as  a  certainty  that 
he  was  not  alive  throughout  the  period   of  tlie 

Sublic  ministry  of  Jesus,  seeing  that  he  is  not 
irectly  or  indirectly  mentioned  along  with  His 
mother  and  brothers  and  sisters  (Mk  3'' 6^). 

6.  Josejih  of  Arimathrea  ('Ioio-tj^  6  dirt)  'Api/iaSala?, 
see  ARIMATH.EA). — A  rich  and  pious  Israelite  (j\lt 
27"),  a  member  of  the  Sanhedrin  (Mk  15«),  who, 
secretly  for  fear  of  the  Jews,  was  Jesus'  disciple 
(Jn  liP).  He  had  not  consented  to  the  deatli  of 
Jesus  (Lk  2.3*'),  and  could  not  therefore  have  been 
present  at  the  Council,  where  they  all  condemned 
Him  to  be  guilty  of  deatli  (Mk  14").  The  timidity 
which  prevented  him  fi-om  openly  avowing  his 
disci])lpsliii),  and  perhaps  from  defending  Jesus  in 
the  Sanhedrin,  fled  when  he  beheld  the  death  of 


(Edersheini,  The  Life  and  Times  of  Jestis  the  Messiah,  i.  19.S). 


the  Lord.  Jewish  law  required  that  the  body  of  a 
person  who  had  been  executed  should  not  remain 
all  night  upon  the  tree,  but  should  '  in  any  wise ' 
be  buried  (Dt  21---  =^).  This  law  would  not  bind 
the  Roman  authorities,  and  the  custom  in  the  Em- 
l^ire  was  to  leave  the  body  to  decay  upon  the  cross 
(cf.  Hor.  Ep.  I.  xvi.  48 ;  Plautus,  Alii.  Glor.  II.  iv. 
19).  But  at  the  crucifixion  of  Jesus  and  of  the  two 
malefactors,  the  Jews,  anxious  that  the  bodies 
shoulil  not  remain  upon  the  cross  during  the 
S.ililiath,  besought  Pilate  that  the  legs  of  the 
enicilieil  might  be  broken  and  death  hastened,  and 
tliat  then  the  bodies  might  be  taken  away  (Jn  19''). 
According  to  Roman  law,  the  relatives  could  claim 
the  body  of  a  person  executed  {Digest,  xlviii.  24, 
'  De  cadav.  punit.').  But  which  of  the  relatives  of 
Jesus  had  a  sepulchre  in  Jerusalem  where  His 
body  might  be  placed  ?  Joseph,  wishing  the  burial 
not  to  be  '  in  any  wise '  (cf.  Jos  8^),  but  to  be 
according  to  the  most  pious  custom  of  his  race, 
went  to  Pilate  and  craved  the  body.  The  petition 
required  boldness  (Mk  lo-**),  since  Joseph,  with  no 
kinship  in  the  flesh  with  Jesus,  would  be  forced  to 
make  a  confession  of  discipleship,  which  the  Jews 
would  note.  Pilate,  too,  neither  loved  nor  was  loved 
by  Israel,  and  his  anger  might  be  kindled  at  the 
coming  of  a  Jew,  and  the  member  of  the  Sanhedrin 
be  assailed  with  insults.  Pilate,  however,  making 
sure  that  Jesus  was  dead,  gave  the  body.  Perhaps 
he  had  pity  for  the  memory  of  Him  he  had  con- 
demned, or  perhaps  the  rich  man's  gold,  since 
Pilate,  accorcling  to  Philo  (Op.  ii.  590),  took  money 
from  suppliants,  secured  what  was  craved.  Joseph, 
now  with  no  fear  of  the  Jews,  acted  openly,  and 
had  to  act  with  speed,  as  the  day  of  preparation 
for  the  Sabbath  was  nearly  spent.  Taking  down 
the  body  of  Jesus  from  the  cross  (and  other  hands 
must  have  aided  his),  he  wrapped  it  in  linen  which 
he  himself  had  bought  (Mk  15-^).  In  the  Fourth 
Gospel  it  is  told  how  Nicodemus,  bringing  a  mix- 
ture of  myrrh  and  aloes,  about  an  hundred  pound 
weight,  joined  Joseph,  and  how  they  took  the  body 
and  wound  it  in  linen  clothes  with  the  spices  (Jn 
19*).  Near  the  place  of  crucifixion  was  a  garden, 
and  in  the  garden  a  new  sepulchre,  which  Joseph 
had  hewn  out  in  the  rock,  doubtless  for  his  own 
last  resting-place  ;  and  in  that  sepulchre,  wherein 
was  never  man  yet  laid,  was  placed  the  body  of 
Jesus  prepared  for  its  burial  (Mt  27"°,  Jn  19-").  In 
the  court  at  the  entrance  to  the  tomb,  the  prepara- 
tion would  be  made.  All  was  done  which  the  time 
liefore  the  Sabbath  allowed  reverent  hands  to  do  ; 
and  I  lien  Joseph,  perhaps  thinking  of  the  pious 
uHices  that  could  yet  be  done  to  the  dead,  rolled  a 
great  stone  to  the  door  of  the  sepulchre  and  de- 
parted (Mt  27"°).  On  late  legends  regarding  Joseph 
of  Ariniathaea  see  Hastings'  DB,  vol.  ii.  p.  778. 
J.  HERKLESS. 
JOSES  ('laio-^s,  'ci%  a  shortened  form  of  IDV, 
'  he  adds " ;  cf.  Gn  30".  The  identity  of  the  two 
names  is  doubted  by  Lightfoot  [Gn?.*  261,  note  1], 
cliielly  on  the  ground  of  the  use  of  ditt'erent  forms 
in  the  Peshitta;  but  Dalraan  [Gram.  Aram.  75] 
rightly  views  'ov  as  a  dialectical,  and  probably 
Galiloean,  abbreviation  of  qov.  The  names  are 
apparently  interchangeable  [cf.  Mt  13°*  with  Mk 
63] ;  in  Mt  27*"  WH  and  Nestle  with  Tisch.  read 
'Ia)(7770,  and  in  all  the  passages  there  is  textual 
evidence,  sufficiently  strong  not  to  lie  overlooked, 
for  the  name  rejected). — 1.  A  brother  of  Jesus  (Mk 
6').  This  brother  is  not  mentioned  anywhere  else 
except  in  the  above  passage  of  Matthew  (27*").  For 
views  as  to  his  real  relationship  see  Hastings'  DB  i. 
320  f}".,  and  art.  Brethren  of  the  Lord  in  present 
work.  2.  The  brother  of  James  the  Little  (Mt 
27*",  Mk  IS*-  •").  The  name  of  Joses  stands  alone 
in  the  last  passage,  but  that  of  his  better  known 
lnother    is  substituted   by   the    'Western'   text. 


JOSIAH 


903 


The  father  was  Chjjias  (Jn  19-^) ;  but  of  him,  a«  of 
his  son  Joses,  nothing  certain  is  known.  Botli 
must  have  been  familiar  to  the  members  of  the 
early  Christian  community  ;  but  the  Syriac  ver- 
sions are  against  the  identification  of  Clopas  with 
Alphseus,  and  Hegesippus  does  not  say  enough 
(Eus.  HE  iii.  11)  to  warrant  the  conclusion  that 
Joses  was  a  nepliew  of  Joseph  of  Nazareth. 

R.  W.  Moss. 
JOSIAH.  —  The    well  -  known    king    of    Judah, 
named  in  our  Lord's  genealogy  (Mt  I"'-). 

JOT. — This  modern  spelling  of  the  AV,  followed 
by  RV,  which  has  discarded  the  16th  cent.  '  iote  ' 
(in  Tindale,  Coverdale,  Cranmer  '  iott ')  of  Rhemish, 
Bishops',  AV  (1611),  somewhat  obscures  the  ety- 
mology of  the  word,  which  is  simply  a  translitera- 
tion of  the  Greek  term  (i'iDTa= '  i ').  Wyclif's  trans- 
lation and  paraphrase  ('oon  i,  timt  is  lest  lettre') 
was  not  adopted  by  any  of  the  subsequent  English 
versions.  The  Greek  trisyllable  being  pronounced 
'jota'  (cf.  Spanish  'jota,'  German  '  jota,'  'jodt,' 
'  jott,'  '  jot '),  the  reduction  to  the  monosyllable 
'  lote  '  (pronounced  '  jote ')  with  its  variants  '  ioyt,' 
'ioit' (Scots  form  :  see  J.  Knox,  Hist.  Rcf.  1572, 
Wks.  1846,  i.  107  ;  and  Davidson,  Convmend. 
Vprichtnes,  152  (1573),  in  Satir.  P.  Ref.  xl.)  and 
'lott,'  was  natural  and  normal.  The  German 
authorized  version  is  still  Luther's  paraphrase  ; 
'der  kleinste  Buchstabe'  for  which  Weizsacker 
prefers  the  transliteration  :  '  ein  Jota,'  while  the 
French  versions  also  transliterate  :  '  un  (seul)  iota.' 

The  proverbial  phrase  Iwra  iv  i)  y.la  Kepala  (Mt  5" 
only)  derives  its  point  from  the  fact  that  ICrra  in 
the  Greek  alphabet,  like  its  equivalent  letter  and 
original  yod  in  the  Hebrew,  is  the  smallest  char- 
acter. In  fact,  as  Dr.  Hastings  notes  (s.v.  in  DB), 
the  yod  being  more  distinctively  the  smallest,  pro- 
vides an  argument  in  favour  of  those  who  regard 
Aramaic  as  the  language  of  Jesus. 

After  Tindale's  introduction  of  the  word  (1526), 
its  meaning,  derived  from  the  passage  above  cited , 
was  not  so  much  '  the  least  letter  or  written  part 
of  any  writing,'  as  in  a  more  general  application 
'  the  very  least,'  '  a  whit,'  and  was  usually  pre- 
ceded by  a  negative  expressed  or  implied.  Thus  : 
Bale  (1538),  God^s  Promises,  iii.  in  Dodsley  O.  PI. 
i.  1 :  'I  wyll  not  one  iote,  Lord,  from  thy  wyll 
dyssent';  Shaksfieare  (1596),  Merck,  of  Ven.: 
'  This  bond  doth  giue  thee  here  no  iot  of  bloud ' ; 
Spenser  (1595),  Sonncta,  Ivii. :  'That  wonder  is 
how  I  should  Hue  a  iot.' 

P.  Henderson  Aitken. 

JOTHAM.— A  king  of  Judah,  named  in  our 
Lord's  genealogy  (Mt  P). 

JOURNEY.— See  Travel. 

JOY In  the  Greek  of  the  NT  there  are  two 

verbs,  with  their  corresponding  nouns,  used  to 
express  the  idea  of  joy.  These  are  a.yaKKi.q.v , 
6,yaK\tacnty  and  x'^^P^^")  X^P^- 

The  word  dyaWifv  conveys  rather  the  idea  of 
exultation  or  exuberant  "ladness,  and  is  a  favourite 
with  St.  Luke,  who  has  been  called  the  'most  pro- 
found psychologist  among  the  Evangelists.'  It  i.s 
in  the  pages  of  his  Gospel  also  that  we  find  the 
most  frequent  mention  of  circumstances  of  joy 
attending  the  proclamation  and  reception  of  the 
gospel  message,  and  the  whole  character  of  his 
writing  reveals  our  Lord  in  the  most  joyous  rela- 
tion to  His  own  disciples  and  to  the  world  at 
large.  The  Gr.  word  for  'gospel'  {fvayyi\ioi>)  means 
'good  tidings,'  or,  as  it  is  described  in  Lk  2"',  in 
the  message  of  the  angel  to  the  shepherds,  '  good 
tidings  of  great  joy'  {evayy(\l^oiJ.ai.  xjn'iv  x'^P^" 
neyd\7iv).  In  the  case  of  the  angel  messenger  to 
Zaeharias,   the  two  words  are  combined    in   his 


greeting.     Thus  at  the  very  outset  the 


of  joy 


attends  the  prophecy  of  even  the  harsher  ministry 
of  John  the  Baptist.  'Thou  shalt,'  says  the 
angel,  '  have  joy  and  gladness  (xapii  "o-l  dyaWiaai.^), 
and  many  shall  rejoice  (xa/jiiffo^rai)  at  his  birth' 
(Lk  1").  Another  strange  attendant  circumstance 
of  the  joy  of  these  days  that  preceded  our  Lord's 
incarnation  is  the  utterance  of  Elisabeth,  who, 
when  Mary,  the  predestined  mother  of  the 
Messiah,  comes  to  visit  her,  cries  out  in  an  ecstasy 
of  wonder  and  joy,  '  Behold,  when  the  voice  of 
thy  salutation  came  into  mine  ears,  the  babe  leapt 
in  my  womb  for  joy'  (v.''^).  In  the  same  scene 
there  immediately  follows  the  song  of  thanksgiving 
known  in  the  Church  as  the  Magnificat  (wh.  see), 
which  is  pervaded  by  the  spirit  of  joy,  and  in 
which  the  word  '  rejoiced '  occurs  at  the  very  out- 
set (v."). 

When  we  turn  to  the  historical  account  of  the 
beginnings  of  the  proclamation  of  the  gospel,  we 
find  that,  according  to  Jn.'s  narrative,  when  John 
the  Baptist  declared  the  coming  of  the  Greater 
than  himself,  he  heralded  His  advent  in  the  words, 
'  He  that  hath  the  bride  is  the  bridegroom  :  but 
the  friend  of  the  bridegroom,  which  standeth  and 
heareth  him,  rejoiceth  greatly  because  of  the  bride- 
groom's voice :  this  my  joy  therefore  is  fulfilled ' 
( Jn  Z^). 

This  statement  is  rather  remarkable  in  the  light  of  the  accounts 
of  the  Baptist's  ministry  given  in  the  Synoptics.  There  the 
ascetic  note  is  much  more  prominent,  and  it  is  our  Lord  who 
says  that,  because  John  came  'neither  eatinj;  nor  drniliinf;,'  the 
people  supposed  he  had  a  devil  (Mt  11'"  I'  T,k  T*')  A^'hrllier  we 
are  to  think  that  the  Fourth  EvaTiL-.li  I  i  "I  .  in.-l  l.:i,k  the 
conception  of  his  Lord's  ministry  iiil"  !       i  '     ription 

of  it  fjiven  by  His  forerunner  or  nni,  i;  ■  ide.     In 

any  case,  the  statement  here  attrilpiil .  <l  i'>  i.Imi  im  Baptist 
stands  alone,  and  is  not  characterit.li.  ,,i  J.is  ^cin-ial  attitude 
or  of  the  question  which,  according  to  Ml.  and  Lk.,  he  addressed 
at  a  later  time  to  our  Lord  Himself. 

In  the  parables  in  which  the  secret  of  the  King- 
dom is  itself  set  fortli  liy  our  Lord,  wc  meet  the 
word  'joy'  several  tinu-s.  In  tin'  intiTiuctation 
of  the  parable  of  the  Siiwn-  Mr  ;iiv  toM  :  •  lie  that 
was  sown  upon  the  rcnky  )il:Hr>,  tlii>  i^  be  that 
heareth  the  word,  .-iiiil  >li:ii-lii  \\  :i  v  witli  j(iy  re- 
ceiveth  it'  (Mt  13="),  :i.  sliikm.u  .li.'i'r.'i.lri  i/,'il  ion  of 
the  temper  of  those  win.  r.i-.i  ly  ,i.l.i|i|  .■!  ^\,•^\  idea, 
but  are  just  as  ready  tn  cm  li;uirc'  it  im  m.ihc  more 
recent  fashion.  It  is  a  temper  that  our  Lord  de- 
scribes in  another  place,  when,  discussing  the 
ministry  of  His  forerunner.  He  says  :  '  He  was 
the  lamp  that  burneth  and  shinetli,  and  ye  were 
willing  to  rejoice  for  a  season  in  liis  light'  (Jn  5'*). 
Joy  of  a  deeper  and  more  permanent  character  is 
that  of  the  man  who  found  a  treasure  hidden  in  his 
field,  and  '  in  his  joy  he  goetli  and  selleth  all  that 
he  hath  and  buyeth  that  field  '  (Mt  13").  This  is 
the  true  and  evangelical  temper  of  a  proper  recep- 
tion of  the  gospel  message.  In  Lk  15  joy  is  given  a 
liigher  place  and  a  yet  more  sjiiritual  .sifjnificance. 
In  the  three  famous' paralilcs  that  lill  tli:if  rlmpter, 
the  joy  of  God's  own  heart  is  m'I  tuiili  \iinlerthe 
images  of  the  shepherd  with  lii-  >luiii,  tlir  woman 
with  her  precious  coin,  and  the  father  with  his 
restored  son.  Joy,  says  our  Lord,  in  the  two 
former  cases,  fills  all  heaven,  even  increasing  the 
gladness  of  the  angels  in  sympathy  with  their 
King;  while  the  cxnbornnt  picture  of  the  joy  of 
the  household  at  tlie  priHliL'-.-il's  return  gives  a  still 
more  tender  and  torn  hin-  piilme  of  the  Divine 
Fatherhood.  Tlie  rew.ir.l  pLimised  to  the  faithful 
servant  in  the  iiarable  of  the  Talents  is  to  enter 
into  '  the  joy  of  his  Lord '  (Mt  25=').  The  meaning 
of  this  is  (il)viously  that  the  servant  should  be  par- 
taker in  the  richer  and  fuller  joy  that  is  his  Lord's 
portion,  ^^hich  may  probably  be  the  joy  that 
comes  from  tlie  exercise  of  higher  responsibilities, 
and  the  opportunities  of  fuller  usefulness  (see  the 
Comm.  in  loco). 


904 


JOY 


In  tlie  iiaiiiitive  in  Lk.  descriptive  of  tlie  return 
of  the  seventy  disciples  from  their  mission  in 
Galilee,  we  read  (10")  that  they  'returned  with 
joy,  saying.  Lord,  even  the  devils  are  subject  unto 
us  in  thy  name.'  It  may  be  that  our  Lord  re- 
garded this  as  too  much  akin  to  the  shallow  joy 
which  He  had  exposed  in  the  parable  of  the  Sower, 
or,  at  any  rate,  as  detrimental  to  the  more  serious 
thought  with  which  He  wished  their  minds  to  be 
tilled ;  for  He  replied  (v.'™) :  '  Howbeit  in  this 
rejoice  not  that  the  spirits  are  subject  unto  you, 
but  rejoice  that  your  names  are  ^\Titten  in  heaven.' 
The  keynote  thus  given  to  the  real  joy  of  the 
disciple  is  the  assurance  of  his  belonging  to  the 
Kingdom  of  God,  a  joy,  therefore,  that  is  '  with 
trembling.'  According  to  Lk.'s  account,  it  is  at 
the  same  moment  that  we  read  of  Christ's  rejoic- 
ing, but  the  parallel  in  Mt.  does  not  bear  out 
the  same  historical  connexion  (cf.  Lk  10-'  and 
Mt  11=5). 

In  Lk.'s  narrative  also  there  is  the  unique  expression,  '  He 
rejoiced  in  the  Holy  Spirit.'  \Vhat  exactly  is  meant  by  this 
phrase  it  is  most  difficult  to  say,  and  some  have  even  supposed 
"    '      '  forestalling  of  the    strange    experiences    of    the 


I  these  works  themseh 


In  the  passage  in  which  Lk.  gives  his  setting  of 
the  Beatitudes,  he  puts  very  strongly  the  blessing 
of  sutt'ering  for  righteousness'  sake,  the  words 
being,  '  Rejoice  in  that  day,  and  leap  :  for,  behold, 
your  reward  is  great  in  heaven '  (Lk  6^). 

In  Jn.  there  is  a  very  striking  use  of  the  verb 
'  rejoice '  in  a  passage  of  great  difficulty  (8=*).  It 
occurs  in  the  reported  controversy  of  our  Lord  with 
the  Jews,  where  He  tells  them,  'Your  father 
Abraham  rejoiced  {iiyaXKtiiaaTo)  to  see  my  day  :  and 
he  saw  it,  and  was  glad '  {^x'^p-n).  The  force  of  the 
Greek  implies  that  Abraham  'exulted  that  he 
should  see,'  that  is,  presumably,  in  the  promises 
that  were  made  to  him,  while  the  actual  seeing  of 
it,  of  which  the  Lord  speaks,  is  possibly  an  asser- 
tion of  Abraham's  living  >vith  God,  as  in  Christ's 
similar  use  of  the  text,  '  I  am  the  God  of  Abraham, 
of  Isaac,  and  of  Jacob,'  to  prove  the  reality  of  the 
doctrine  of  the  resurrection. 

We  must  next  turn  to  a  class  of  passages  con- 
tained in  the  closing  addresses  of  our  Lord  to  His 
disciples,  as  recorded  in  the  Fourth  Gospel,  where 
much  stress  is  laid  upon  our  Lord's  own  joy  and 
the  disciples'  share  in  it.  The  clear  declaration  of 
His  commandments  is  to  effect  the  purpose  of  their 
partaking  in  His  own  joy  of  obedience,  and  to 
secure  the  permanence  and  completeness  of  their 
o^^^^  glad  following  of  the  Divine  will  (Jn  15"). 
Again,  the  natural  sorrow  at  His  approaching  de- 
parture is  to  be  a  sorrow  like  that  of  a  woman  in 
her  birth-pangs, — a  sorrow,  that  is,  which  is  not 
only  full  of  purpose,  but  is  a  necessary  element  in 
a  great  deliverance  ;  and  the  joy  that  will  succeed 
not  only  causes  forgetfulness  of  the  previous  suffer- 
ing, but  abides,  while  the  pain  is  only  a  passing 
and  comparatively  unimportant  experience  (16^-"). 

And,  finally,  in  the  great  prayer  of  intercession 
contained  in  Jn  17,  our  Lord  requests  that  the  joy 
which  was  His  own  peculiar  possession  should  hnd 
its  full  accomplishment  in  tne  hearts  of  His  dis- 
ciples (v.").  The  joy  thus  foretold  and  interceded 
for  is  noted  by  the  Evangelist  as  a  possession  of 
the  disciples  immediately  after  the  resurrection. 
In  Mt  288  .jve  are  told  that  the  women  departed 
from  the  tomb  '  with  fear  and  great  joy,'  while  the 
effect  of  the  gladness  is  noted  by  Lk.,  with  a  truth- 
fulness to  human  experience  that  is  most  remark- 
able, as  being  itself  a  ground  of  scepticism  (see  Lk 
24^').     This  joy  was  not  only  the  possession,  but 


JOY 


the  abiding  possession  of  the  early  Church,  as 
frequent  notes  in  the  Book  of  Acts  prove :  and 
many  passages  in  St.  Paul's  Epistles  speak  of  joy 
as  one  of  the  true  fruits  of  the  indwelling  of  the 
Holy  Spirit  (see  Ac  13=-  and  Gal  5~). 

While  the  passages  above  examined  contain  most 
of  the  instances  in  which  the  words  '  joy '  or  '  re- 
joice' are  used  in  the  Gospels,  there  remain  very 
many  passages  in  which  the  idea  is  prominent.  Our 
Lord's  own  description  of  Himself,  for  instance,  as 
the  Bridegroom  when  He  is  vindicating  the  liberty 
of  His  disciples  to  abstain  from  the  ascetic  prac- 
tices of  the  Pharisees,  shows  how  He  conceived  His 
mission  and  ministry  (see  Mk  2'*-~).  Many  of  the 
parables,  other  than  those  already  named,  set  forth 
the  inherent  joy  of  the  Kingdom,  as,  for  example, 
those  of  the  Wedding  Supper  and  the  Ten  Virgins. 
The  Lord's  Supper  itself  was  a  feast  of  jov,  for, 
according  to  Lk.'s  account  (22'=),  our  Lord  said, 
'  With  desire  I  have  de.sired  to  eat  this  Passover 
with  you  before  I  suft'er,'  thus  indicating  that  He 
had  eagerly  and  gladly  anticipated  it ;  and  in  the 
further  words  that  He  speaks  on  that  occasion  He 
indicates  that  there  is  only  to  be  a  pause  in  the 
joy  which  will  be  resumed  and  heightened  in  other 
surroundings.  '  I  will  not,'  He  continues,  '  drink 
from  henceforth  of  the  fruit  of  the  vine  until  the 
kingdom  of  God  shall  come,'  or,  as  Mt.  phrases  it 
(26^),  '  until  that  day  when  I  drink  it  new  -with 
you  in  my  Father's  kingdom.' 

There  must  have  been  much  in  our  Lord's  inter- 
course with  the  people  that  led  them  to  see  in  Him 
a  helper  of  their  joys  rather  than  a  restraint  upon 
their  merriment.  He  was,  for  example,  an  honoured 
guest  at  a  wedding  feast  (Jn  2^),  and  at  many  a 
social  meal  (cf.  Lk  14'  and  Jn  12") ;  and  when  He 
decided  to  abide  at  the  house  of  Zacchreus,  we  are 
told  that  the  latter  'received  him  joyfully.'  In 
His  triumphal  entry  into  Jerusalem  the  people 
gladly  welcomed  Him  (Lk  19^),  and  the  children 
cried  joyfully  in  the  Temple,  '  Hosanna  to  the  Son 
of  David'  (Alt  21''*).  All  these  more  or  less  exuber- 
ant outbursts  of  spontaneous  joy  greatly  otiiended 
the  Pharisees  and  other  formal  religionists ;  and 
while  it  would  not  be  correct  to  say  that  our  Lord 
designedly  arranged  circumstances  in  which  the 
contrasts  would  be  clearly  manifested,  still  the 
conditions  in  which  they  were  so  displayed  were 
admirable  parables  in  action  of  some  of  the  deepest 
truths  of  His  kingdom. 

There  is  much  beauty,  as  well  as  truth,  in  the  imaginary 
description  of  Renan  :  *  He  thus  traversed  Galilee  in  the  midst 
of  a  continual  feast.  When  He  entered  a  house  it  was  considered 
a  jov  and  a  blessinff.  He  halted  in  the  villages  and  at  the  large 
fam'is,  where  He  received  open  hospitality.  In  the  East  when 
a  stran-rer  enters  a  house  it  becomes  at  once  a  public  place.  All 
the  village  assembles  there,  the  children  invade  it,  they  are 
put  out  bv  the  servants,  but  always  return.  Jesus  could  not 
suffer  these  innocent  auditors  to  be  treated  harshly.  He 
caused  them  to  be  brought  to  Hira  and  embraced  them.  .  .  . 
He  protected  those  who  wished  to  honour  Him.  In  this  »;ay 
children  and  women  came  to  adore  Him '  (Life  of  Jems,  ch.  xi.). 

The  joy  that  emanated  from  our  Lord's  person 
and  presence  during  His  earthly  ministry  was 
without  question  a  great  part  of  its  power.  His 
attitude  stood  in  such  clear  contrast  to  the  general 
character  of  the  religious  people  round  about  Hira, 
that  the  consciousness  of  it  must  have  been  felt  by 
all  the  onlookers  ;  but  in  addition  to  this  fact  was 
the  whole  teaching  about  His  kingdom,  which,  as 
set  forth  in  parable  and  precept,  was  to  be  a  king- 
dom of  gladness.  In  this  latter  respect  it  came 
into  line  with  what  the  prophets  had  described  as 
the  marked  characteristic  of  the  Kingdom  of  God, 
and  also  with  what  the  Jewish  apocalypses  pictured 
as  the  outcome  of  the  Messiah  s  advent.  That  a 
more  earthly  conception  of  joy  filled  the  hearts  of 
many  of  the  disciples  there  is  little  reason  to  ques- 
tion, but  a  great  deal  of  our  Lord's  teaching  was 
directed  to  spiritualize  their  hopes  and  to  deepen 


JUD^A 


905 


their  insight  into  the  true  character  of  spiritual 
joy. 

Literature. — The  Comni. 


,  1900,  111  ff.  ;  G.  Matheson,  Studies  in  the  Portr 
of  Christ,  1st  series,  272  £f. ;  J.  Moffatt  in  Expos.  Times,  ix. 
(189S)  334.  G.  CURRIE  MARTIN. 

JUDiEA.— 1.  In  its  earlier  signification  the  term 
'  Jud«a '  i'lovdaia)  was  applied  to  a  limited  district, 
of  which  Jerusalem  was  the  centre,  occupied  by 
the  captives  who  returned  from  Babylon  after  the 
decree  of  Cyrus.  The  scattered  remnants  of  the 
Israelites  who  availed  themselves  of  this  oppor- 
tunity, representing  most,  if  not  all,  of  the  several 
tribes,  joined  forces  with  the  men  of  Judah  in 
rebuilding  the  Temple  and  its  defences  ;  and  from 
this  date,  except  on  the  lists  of  the  genealogical 
and  tribal  records,  they  were  not  distinguished 
from  them.  Hence  the  tribe  of  .Judah,  which,  ac- 
cording to  Josephus,  arrived  first  in  those  parts, 
gave  name  both  to  the  inhabitants  and  the  terri- 
tory, the  former  being  designated  as  Jews  and  the 
latter  as  '  Judaea '  or  '  Jewry '  {Ant.  XI.  v.  7).  At  a 
later  date  both  names  were  used  in  a  wider  sense, 
including  all  the  Israelites  who  returned,  and  also 
their  settlements  or  possessions  in  other  sections 
of  the  land.  Under  Persian  rule  the  land  of  Judah 
was  designated  as  a  province  of  the  Empire,  and 
was  administered  by  a  governor,  who  resided  at 
Jerusalem  (Ezr  5«-  '^  Neh  IP,  Hag  !'• '").  During 
the  period  of  the  Roman  occupation  the  term  was 
sometimes  used  as  a  general  expression  for  Pales- 
tine as  a  whole  {BJ  I.  viii.  2 ;  Strabo,  xvi.  2.  21  ; 
Tacitus,  Hist.  v.  6  ;  Lk  V,  Ac  28-'),  also  to  include 
a  portion,  apparently,  of  the  trans- jordanic  country 
{A7it.  XII.  iv.  H  ;  Mt  19',  Mk  10' ;  Ptol.  v.  16.  9). 
Apart  from  this  exceptional  usage,  the  name  ordi- 
narily—as we  find  it  in  the  NT  and  the  writings 
of  Josephus — is  applied  to  the  southernmost  of  the 
three  districts  — Galilee,  Samaria,  Judtea — into 
which  Western  Palestine  was  divided  in  the  time 
of  Christ.  With  some  variations  on  the  north  and 
west  borders  at  difl'erent  periods,  Judsea  covered  all 
of  the  territory  south  of  the  Wady  Ishar  and  the 
village  of  AkrcMeh  (PEFSt,  1881,  p.  48),  from  the 
Mediterranean  to  the  Jordan  Valley  and  the  Dead 
Sea.  According  to  Josephus,  its  limits  extended 
from  a  village  on  the  north  called  Anuath,  or 
Borkeos,  identified  with  'Aina  Berkit,  to  lardas 
(possibly  Tell  Arad),  on  the  edge  of  the  desert,  to 
the  south.    Its  breadth  he  defines,  in  general  terms. 


as  extending  from  the  river  Jordan  to  Joppa  (BJ 

jtically 
responded  with  the  area  of  the  kingdom  of  Judah 


i.  5).     In  other  words,  its  area  practically  cor- 


in  the  period  of  its  greatest  enlargement.  As  thus 
defined  it  included  the  tribal  possessions  of  Simeon, 
Judah,  Benio-  n,  Dan,  and,  to  some  extent  at 
least,  of  Ephraim. 

A  distinction  sliould  be  noted  here  between  the 
use  of  the  word  Judsea  to  designate  strictly  Jewish 
territory,  from  which  the  outlying  Hellenistic  or 
Gentile  toivns  were  excluded,  and  the  Roman 
usage  of  the  word  to  designate  a  political  division, 
which  for  administrative  purposes  included  all  the 
coast  towns  south  of  Mt.  Carmel,  the  chief  of 
which  in  the  time  of  Christ  was  Ciesarea,  the 
residence  of  its  Procurator.  In  the  one  case  its 
northern  limit  was  Antipatris,  on  the  plain  of 
Sharon  ;  in  the  other  it  extended  to  Acre  (Ptole- 
mais)  beyond  Mt.  Carmel.  The  S.E.  portion  of 
Judaea  has  sometimes  been  designated  as  a  separate 
district  under  the  name  Idumwa,  but  this  term 
properly  describes  a  settlement  of  the  Edomites  in 
Judsea,  and  not  a  separate  division  of  the  country. 
Idumsea,  according  to  Josephus,  was  one  of  the 
eleven  toparchies  into  which  Judrea  proper  was 


divided  for  administrative  puri)oses  under  Roman 
rule  (BJ  III.  iii.  5).     See  Idumwa. 

2.  When  our  Lord  was  born,  Judsea  constituted 
a  part  of  the  dominion  of  Herod  the  Great,  who 
accordingly  is  called  by  the  Evangelists  '  king  of 
Juda-a'  ( Lk  1^  cf.  Mt  2').  After  the  death  of  Herod, 
the  Roman  emperor  assumed  the  right  to  settle 
the  dispute  which  had  arisen  among  his  sons  con- 
cerning the  division  of  the  kingdom,  and  by  his 
decree  Judiea  and  Samaria  were  in  the  partition 
assigned  to  Archelaus.  The  sovereignty  of  Rome 
was  more  fully  asserted  also  at  this  time  in  refus- 
ing to  any  of  Herod's  sons  the  title  '  king.'  When 
liy  the  same  authority  Archelaus  was  deposed 
(A.D.  6),  the  territory  over  which  he  held  rule  was 
attached  to  the  province  of  Syria,  and  thus  for 
the  first  time  came  under  immediate  Roman  rule. 
From  this  date  it  was  administered  by  a  governor 
or  procurator,  who  was  chosen  from  the  equestrian 
order.  Following  Archelaus  the  province  was  ad- 
ministered by  five  procurators  during  the  life  and 
ministry  of  Jesus,  viz.  Coponiu3(c.  A.D.  6-9),  Marcus 
Ambivius  (c.  9-12),  Annius  Rufus  (c.  12-15),  Vale- 
rius Gratus  (15-25),  Pontius  Pilat«  (26-36).  It  was 
during  Pilate's  rule  that  the  word  of  God  came 
to  John  the  Baptist  in  the  wilderness,  and  some 
years  later  this  Roman  procurator  made  his  name 
for  ever  infamous  by  giving  sentence  that  the 
Christ,  whom  he  had  openly  declared  to  be  innocent 
of  crime,  should  be  led  away  to  be  crucified. 

3.  The  physical  features  of  Judcea  are  sharply 
outlined  and  singularly  diversified.  Its  distinctive 
characteristics  fall  naturally  into  five  subdivisions, 
originally  suggested  by  the  OT  writers,  viz.  the 
'  Plain  of  the  Coast,'  the  '  Shephelah '  or  region  of 
the  low  hills,  the  'Hill  country,'  the  'Negeb'  or 
dry  country,  and  the  '  Wilderness.' 

The  Maritime  Plain  varies  in  width  from  10  to 
16  miles.  It  is  for  the  most  part  flat  or  rolling, 
and  rises  gradually  toward  the  base  of  the  moun- 
tains. The  upper  portion  (Sharon)  is  noted  for  its 
rich  pasturage ;  the  lower  (Philistia)  for  its  vast 
grain-fields,  which  have  yielded  enormous  crops 
without  the  use  of  fertilizers,  except  such  as  nature 
has  distributed  over  its  surface  from  the  wash  and 
waste  of  the  mountains,  for  forty  centuries.  The 
international  highway  which  follows  the  line  of 
tlie  coast  inside  the  region  of  the  sand-dunes  is  one 
of  the  oldest  caravan  and  military  roads  in  the 
world.  Most  of  the  noted  towns  of  the  Plain  are 
on  or  near  this  ancient  highway.  This  section  of 
Judsea  has  no  associations  with  the  life  or  ministry 
of  Jesus,  but  in  the  Acts  there  are  several  refer- 
ences to  visits  which  were  made,  or  events  which 
took  place,  in  its  towns,  in  connexion  with  the 
work  of  the  Apostles  or  their  associates  (chs.  8-10 
and  18-21). 

The  'Shephelah'  belongs  to  the  plain  rather 
than  to  the  central  ridge  of  the  mountains,  from 
which  it  is  distinctly  separated  by  a  series  of 
almost  continuous  breaks  or  depressions.  It  has 
been  aptly  described  as  '  a  loose  gathering  of  chalk 
and  limestone  hills,  round,  bare,  and  featureless, 
but  with  an  occasional  bastion  flung  well  out  in 
front  of  them.'  There  are  several  noted  valleys, 
which  begin  their  courses  as  wadis  in  the  central 
range,  and  cut  their  way  through  the  Shephelah 
to  the  plain.  Each  of  these  affords  a  passage-way 
into  the  heart  of  the  mountain  stronghold  of 
Judaea,  and  each  has  its  distinct  characteristics 
and  historical  associations.  Apostles  and  evan- 
gelists entered  this  region  soon  after  the  disper- 
sion of  the  believers  at  Jerusalem,  and  in  its  lime- 
stone grottoes,  in  the  days  of  the  persecutions, 
multitudes  of  hunted  and  outlawed  Christians 
found  refuges  and  hiding-places  (HGHL,  ch.  xi.). 

The  '  Hill  country '  or  highland  region  fills  most 
of  the  space  between  the  Jordan  Valley  and  the 


906 


JUDAH 


JUDAS 


sea,  and  gives  character  to  the  district  as  a  whole. 
In  its  present  condition  it  is  the  most  rugged  and 
desolate  section  of  the  Lebanon  range.  In  former 
times  its  hillsides  were  terraced,  and  every  avail- 
able break  in  its  table-lands  was  carefully  culti- 
vated ;  and  yet  in  every  period  of  its  history  it  has 
been  regarded  as  a  rough,  stony  land,  more  suit- 
able for  pastoral  than  for  agricultural  pursuits.  Its 
watershed  is  an  irregular,  undulating  plateau, 
which  varies  in  width  from  12  to  18  miles.  The 
general  direction  of  the  numerous  ravines  or  torrent- 
beds  which  diversify,  and  in  some  sections  deeply 
corrugate,  its  sides,  is  east  and  west.  On  the  east 
side  they  are  short,  direct,  and  deeply  cleft ;  on 
the  west,  comparatively  long  and  shallow,  reaching 
the  coast  often  by  circuitous  routes.  The  highest 
elevation  (3564  ft.)  is  er-Bamah,  a  short  distance 
north  of  Hebron.  The  general  average  of  the 
plateau  on  which  Jerusalem  is  located  is  about 
2500  ft.  South  of  Hebron  there  is  a  gradual  de- 
scent by  steps  or  terraced  slopes  to  the  region 
which  for  many  centuries  has  borne  the  distinctive 
name  '  Negeb '  or  dry  country. 

The  '  Wilderness '  includes  the  whole  of  the 
eastern  slope  or  declivity  of  the  Judsean  mountains. 
It  is  a  barren,  uncultivated  region,  unique  in  its 
setting,  and  notable  above  all  other  sections  of 
the  land  for  its  desolation,  its  loneliness,  and  its 
scenes  of  wild  and  savage  ^randeur.  The  variation 
in  levels  from  the  edge  of  tlie  plateau  to  the  surface 
of  the  Dead  Sea  is  but  little  short  of  4000  ft., 
nearly  one  half  of  which  is  a  precipitous  descent 
from  sea-level  to  the  margin  of  the  deeply  depressed 
basin  amid  the  .silent  hills.  In  this  '  land  not  in- 
habited '  John  the  Baptist  sought  seclusion  while 
preparing  for  his  ministry  as  the  forerunner  of  the 
Messiah ;  and  here  the  Holy  One,  concerning  whom 
he  bore  record,  abode  '  forty  days  tempted  of 
Satan ;  and  was  with  the  wild  beasts :  and  the 
angels  ministered  unto  him'  (Mt  3'"  II  Lk  3=,  Mt 
41-"  II  Mk  1'=-  '=). 

i.  The  sacred  memories  and  thronging  events 
which  have  been,  and  for  ever  shall  be,  associated 
with  these  holy  hills  cannot  be  fittingly  expressed 
by  voice  or  pen.  In  the  long  ages  past  the  highways 
of  this  Judoean  plateau  have  been  trodden  by  tlie 
feet  of  patriarchs,  prophets,  priests,  and  kings,  and 
for  centuries  its  sanctuary  on  Mt.  Zion  was  the 
dwelling-place  of  Jehovah  ;  but,  more  than  all  else 
in  its  wonderful  history,  it  was  the  place  of  the 
incarnation,  the  self-denying  ministry,  the  agony, 
the  death,  the  resurrection,  and  the  ascension  of 
the  Son  of  God,  the  Saviour  of  the  world. 

Literature. —Stanley,  SP  pp.  227-233 ;  Conder,  Pal.  ch.  i. 
p.  221 ;  Schtirer,  HJP,  index ;  G.  A.  Smith,  HGUL,  ch3.  xii.- 
XV.;  Neubauer,  G<;o(7.  du  TaZm,  p.  82  ff. ;  PEF  Meinoirs,\o\.  iii.; 
C.  W.  Wilson  in  Hastings'  DB,  vol.  ii.  p.  791 :  Smith,  Z>B2,  vol. 
ii.  p.  1488;  Hastings'  DB,  art.  'Palestine';  Baedeker,  Pal.  and 
Syria,  Ivi.  ROBERT  L.  STEWART. 

JDDAH.— The  eponymous  ancestor  of  the  tribe 
to  which  our  Lord  belonged  (Mt  I-'*-,  Lk  3^',  He  7» ; 
of.  art.  Genealogies). 

JDDAH  ('Ioi''5a).— Two  passages  in  the  Gospels 
mention  'Judah'(RV),  or  'Juda'  (AV),  >yhich  is 
orthographically  distinct  from  'Juda?a'  ('lovoaia) 
as  well  as  geographically  smaller.  The  one  is 
Mt  2*  'And  thou  Bethlehem,  land  of  Judah,  art 
in  no  wise  least  among  the  princes  of  Judah,'  etc., 
alluding  to  Bethlehem,  the  birthplace  of  Christ,  in 
the  heart  of  the  hill  country.  The  other  is  Lk 
P'  '  And  Mary  arose  in  these  days  and  went  into 
the  hill  country  with  haste,  into  a  city  of  Judah  ' ; 
which  also  probably  alludes  to  some  town  in  the 
centre  of  the  hill  countrj',  the  birthplace  of  John 
the  Baptist.  In  the  latter  passage,  however,  in- 
stead of  «'s  toXlo  'lo.'-Sa,  Reland  in  1714  (Pal.  p.  870), 
endorsed  by  Robinson  in  1841  {BRF'  ii.  206)  and 


others  of  more  recent  date,  emend  to  read  eii  iroXi.v 
'loih-a,  i.e.  '  Juttah'  in  lieu  of  'Judah.'  But  there 
is  no  good  philological  reason  for  thinking  that  the 
latter  is  a  corruption  or  softer  pronunciation  of 
the  former  ;  and,  as  the  context  would  indicate,  the 
word  'Judah'  in  v.^''  seems  to  be  parallel  to  the 
'hill  country'  of  v.^  (cf.  Cheyne,  art.  'Juttah'  in 
Encyc.  Bibl.,  also  Plummer,  Int.  Crit.  Com.  ad  Lk 
P^).  It  is,  therefore,  probably  better  to  treat  the 
passage  as  a  reference  to  that  portion  of  the  hill 
country  of  Judah  round  about  Hebron,  or  to  the 
south  of  it.  Tradition  has  fixed  upon  'A  in  Kdrim, 
a  little  west  of  Jerusalem,  as  the  birthplace  of 
John  the  Baptist.  See,  further,  artt.  JuD^A, 
Hill,  etc.  George  L.  Robinson. 

JUDAS.  — 1.  Judas   the    son   of   James.     The 

eleventh  name  in  two  lists  of  the  Apostles  (Lk  6'*, 
Ac  1")  is  'loiiSas  'loKw/Sou.  RV  '  Judas  the  son  of 
James  '  is  a  better  rendering  than  AV  '  Judas  the 
brother  of  James.'  The  note  in  RVm  is  '  Or 
brother.  See  Jude  ' ' ;  but  in  Jude '  there  is  no 
ambiguity  ;  the  Gr.  text  is  ade\(pt>s  'laxui/Soi;.  The 
AV  rendering  is  grammatically  possible  ;  but  it  is 
improbable  that  the  genitive  has  two  different 
meanings  in  one  short  list  of  names  (cf.  AV  and 
RV  '  James  tlie  son  of  Alphseus '),  and  it  is  note- 
worthy that  in  Lk  3>  6"  dScX^is  is  expressed.  The 
AV  rendering  may  have  been  caused  by  Jude '  ; 
certainly  it  has  led  to  the  erroneous  identification 
of  these  two  Judases.  The  evidence  of  Versions  is 
in  favour  of  RV.  Syr  ^^  and  Theb.  have  'son 
of '  ;  '  none  suggests  the  exceptional  rendering 
"  the  brother  of"  (Plummer  in  Smith's  DB,  vol.  i. 
pt.  2).  Syr  »'"  has  '  Judas  son  of  James '  instead 
of  Thaddwus  or  Lebbteus  in  Mt  10*. 

In  two  lists  of  the  Apostles  (Mt  W,  Mk  S^«) 
'  Judas  the  son  of  James '  has  no  place  ;  the  other 
names  correspond  in  all  four  lists.  In  Mt.  and 
INIk.  Thaddaeus  (v.l.,  in  Mt.,  Lebbaeus)  is  one  of  the 
Twelve.  There  is  little  doubt  that  '  Judas  the  son 
of  James'  had  a  second  name  '  ThaddfEus,'  and 
perhaps  a  third  name  '  Lebba^us.'  Jerome  {Com. 
m  loc. )  calls  him  trinomius.  Cf .  Nestle  in  Hastings' 
DB  iv.  741. 

It  is  significant  that  on  the  only  occasion  when 
this  obscure  Apostle  is  referred  to  in  the  Gospels, 
he  is  distinguished  from  his  notorious  name.sake  as 
'  Judas,  not  Iscariot '  ( Jn  14=-).  All  that  we  know 
of  '  Judas  ThaddcEus '  is  that  he  asked  the  ques- 
tion, '  Lord,  what  is  come  to  pass  that  thou  wilt 
manifest  thyself  unto  us,  and  not  unto  the  world  ? ' 
He  could  not  understand  how  the  kingdom  was 
to  come  unless  the  Messiah  would  make  a  public 
disclosure  (^/i^ai/ifu)  of  His  glory.  The  answer  of 
Jesus  explains  that  in  the  very  nature  of  the  case 
it  is  not  possible  for  Him  to  reveal  His  glory  to 
unloving  and  disobedient  hearts.  The  question  of 
Judas  Thaddieus  expressed  the  thought  not  only 
of  other  members  of  the  Apostolic  band,  but  also 
of  many  wlio  have  since  believed  in  Christ.  Our 
Lord's  words  have  a  message  for  all  disciples  whose 
impatience  is  an  evidence  of  the  influence  of  the 
spirit  of  the  world.  Well  may  St.  Paul  claim  to 
'have  the  mind  of  Christ'  when  he  affirms  that 
'  the  natural  man  '  is  not  only  unable  to  '  receive  ' 
and  to  '  know '  spiritual  things,  but  is  also  incom- 
petent to  'interpret'  and  to  'judge'  them  (cf. 
1  Co  2"<'-). 

Coni-erniiiir  the  name  of  this  Apostle,  who  is  little  more  than 
a  ,MiiM  I"  ii-,  il,M-.  In^  lit-eri  rriUi'h  .li-ussion.  In  Jn  U^ 
S\r        '  I  ^  r  i  i""  111-  ■  Jiwlus  Thomas.'    Plumnier 

(o;,.  ,   '     :    I  i  i     1,1  ill  n-,;iinliii-'  tin-  latter  as  'acomipt 

rendiii  :  im  t.i.L  that  I lir  S\Tian  Christians  called 

Thiiiii  '  li.l,^/    Eiis..l.iiis('//A' i.  13.  10)refers,  in 

his  11-  i  -  Abtrar,  king  of  Edessa,  to  '  Judas  who 

was   i!    I    1         i-.'    McGiffert  {yicene  and  Post-Nicene 

Pari"'     i         I  . -IS  that 'it  is  possible  that  Eusebius,  or 


JUDAS  ISCAEIOT 


JUDAS  ISCARIOT 


But  Thomas  is  also  called  Judas  Thomas  in  Acta  of  Thutnati, 
c.  11  f.,  31,  39,  and  in  the  Sjriac  Ductrina  Apostolomm. 
Preusohen  (Hennecke,  Handbneh  zu  den  NT  Apokryphen,  p. 
562)  says ;  *  In  regard  to  the  name  Judas-Thomas,  i.e.  Judas  the 
Twin,  of.  Doctritie  o/  Addai  (j).  5,  ed.  Phillips),  Bar-Hebiieus, 
Chranicon Ecc.  iii.  2.  The  Syriac  translation  of  Eusebius,  Ch.  Hist. 
i.  13.  10,  renders  the  Or.  'I«i?a,-  i  s!«;  Bu/jlUs  by  NDiNn  sii.T 
which,  according  to  the  Nestorian  pronunciation  of  the  Syriac, 
must  have  been  understood  to  mean  Judas  the  Twin.'  It  is 
possible  that  these  Syriac  traditions  preserve  the  personal 
name  of  Thomas  '  the  Twin ' ;  it  is  impossible  to  believe  that 
in  the  Fourth  Gospel  the  Judas  of  14—  and  the  doubting  Apostle 
are  the  same. 

2.  Judas  the  brother  of  James.— In  two  Gospels 
(Mt  IV'^,  Mk  6')  'James  and  Joseph  and  Simon 
and  Judas'  are  named  as  brothers  of  Jesus.  In 
Jude'  the  author  of  that  Epistle  is  described  as 
'  Judas  .  .  .  the  brother  of  James '  (RV).  The  AV 
has  'Jude';  and  in  Mk  6'  'Juda.'  'Judas  the 
brother  of  James '  is,  therefore,  a  designation  both 
Scriptural  and  simple,  yet  sufficient  to  distinguish 
the  person  so  named  from  '  Judas  tlie  son  of  James,' 
who  was  an  Apostle.  The  use  of  the  full  expression 
d5eX06s  'laKu^ov  in  the  Epistle  of  Jude,  and  the 
statement  (Mt  13'^)  that  Judas  and  James  were  ol 
dde'K<pol  ['Ii^ffoC],  justifies  the  limiting  of  the  title 
'  the  brother  of  James '  to  the  Judas  who  was  also 
a  'brother  of  Jesus.'  Much  confusion  has  been 
caused  by  the  erroneous  AV  rendering  of  'lotiSas 
'laKilijlov  (cf.  No.  1  above). 

Of  '  Judas  the  brother  of  James '  as  an  individual 
we  know  nothing  ;  but  account  should  be  taken  of 
what  is  said  collectively  of  our  Lord's  brothers. 
He  was  probably  a  son  of  Joseph  and  Mary,  and  a 
younger  brother  of  Jesus  (cf . '  Brethren  of  the  Lord ' 
in  Hastings'  DB) ;  he  misunderstood  the  popularity 
of  Jesus  (Mt  12''8if-),  who  was,  in  his  estimation,  a 
foolish  enthusiast  (Mk  3-') ;  before  the  resurrection 
of  Jesus  he  did  not  acknowledge  his  Brother  as 
the  Messiah  (Jn  V-),  but  after  the  resurrection 
he  is  found  '  in  prayer '  in  the  upper  room  (Ac  l") ; 
his  doubts,  like  those  of  his  brother  James  (1  Co 
15^),  may  have  vanished  in  the  presence  of  the 
risen  Lord.  The  distinct  mention  of  the  brothers 
of  Jesus  (Ac  1")  after  the  Eleven  have  been  named, 
is  another  reason  for  rejecting  the  tradition  which 
identifies  'Judas  the  brother  of  James'  with  Judas 
ThaddiEus  the  Apostle. 

The  authorship  of  the  Epistle  of  Jude  is  much  disputed. 
Harnack  regards  the  words  '  brother  of  James '  as  an  interpola- 
tion added  towards  the  end  of  the  2nd  cent,  to  enhance  the 
value  of  the  Epistle  'as  a  weapon  against  Gnosticism.'  But 
'the  simplest  interpretation  of  the  salutation,  which  identifies 
the  writer  .  .  .  with  the  brother  of  the  Lord,  is  the  best' 
(Chase,  Hastings'  DB  ii.  804i>). 

Eusebins  (HE  iii.  19.  201-*.  32)  quotes  from  Hegesippus  the 
ttion  brought  against  the  grandchildren  of 


descended  from 
whosf   name  \\as  Judas';  it  is 
hiH    horiif    fp«timonv   before 


Judas ;  they  ar 
called  brothers  of  t 
further  said  that  ' 
Domitian  in  behalf 
of  every  church  as  - 
'Judas  the  brothci 
city  where  he  live<i. 
Epistle.    Mrs.  Lc\vii 


ment  in  Jn  7'  that  our  Lord's  brothers  did  not  believe  that  He 
was  the  Messiah  (cf.  ExpT  xiv.  398 ;  also  Eendel  Harris,  The 
Dioscuri  in  the  Christian  Lefjt^ndt;). 

3.  Judas  Iscariot.— See  following  article. 

J.  G.  Taskkr. 
JUDAS  ISCARIOT.- 

i.  The  NT  sources, 
ii.  Name  and  Designations  : 

(a)  Judas. 

(6)1 


(c)  One  of  the  Twelve. 


(0  A  devil. 
('/)  Son  of  pel 
)thfr  NT  refen 


(0)  The  Satan  incarnate  theory  ; 

(c)  The  mingled  motives  theory  ;  he  was  (a)  covet- 
ous, (p)  ambitious,  (y)  jealous, 
v.  References  to  Judas  in  post-Biblical  literature  : 

(a)  Apocr\-phal  works ; 

(b)  Early  Christian  writings. 

(c)  Folk-lore. 

Literature. 

i.  The  NT  sources.— The  basis  of  any  satisfac- 
tory solution  of  the  fascinating  and  perplexing 
problem  of  the  personality  of  Judas  must  be  a 
comprehensive  and  careful  study  of  the  words  of 
Jesus  and  the  records  of  the  Evangelists.  Interest 
in  his  life  and  character  may  have  been  unduly 
sacrificed  to  dogmatic  discussions  of  '  tix'd  fate,  free 
will,  foreknowledge  absolute,'  but  the  reaction  in 
favour  of  psychological  methods  of  study  may  be 
carried  to  excess.  Conclusions  arrived  at  by  the  use 
of  these  methods  are  not  always  consistent  with 
the  historical  data  furnished  by  the  Gospels.  In 
psychological  as  well  as  theological  investigations, 
speculation  may  prove  an  unsafe  guide  ;  at  least 
it  should  always  move  in  a  path  made  by  prolong- 
ing the  lines  laid  down  in  the  documents  which 
are  the  main  sources  of  our  information.  Theories 
framed  by  induction  from  a  critical  comparison  of 
the  narratives  may  claim  to  be  attempts  to  untie 
the  knot,  but  theories  involving  excisions  from, 
and  conjectural  emendations  of,  the  text  of  the 
Gospels  and  Acts  are  mere  cuttings  of  the  knot. 
A  frank  acknowledgment  that  there  are  dif- 
ficulties at  present  inexplicable  is  preferable  to  the 
adoption  of  such  violent  methods  of  removing 
them.  The  NT  material  available  for  the  investi- 
gation of  the  subject  in  its  manifold  aspects  is 
found  in  the  following  passages  : 

1.  The  lists  of  the  Apostles  :  Mk  3i6if-,  Mt  lOSiT-,  Lk  6I3ir.. 

2.  Early  allusions  to  Judas  :  Jn  e^if-  12-'«'-  1712,  Lk  223  (cf.  Mk 
14"-,  Mt  268f). 

3.  The  narratives  of  the  Betrayal :  Mk  14iof-,  Mt  26"ff.,  Lk 
22''«f- ;  Jn  13'iff- ;  Mk  14i8ir-,  Mt  •262iir-,  Lk  222iff-,  Jn  IS^nr- ;  Mk 
14«lf-,  Mt  26«ff-,  Lk  22-1"-,  Jn  182ir.. 

—     •  of  the  death  of  Judas :  Mt  273«'-,  Ac  li6ir.. 


From  this  classification  it  will  be  seen  that,  with 
the  exception  of  Lk  i-I^,  the  Synoptists  say  nothing 
about  Judas  before  the  Betrayal ;  their  account  of 
the  Betrayal  also  difi'ers  in  many  details  from  that 
given  in  the  Fourth  Gospel.  Some  divergent  tra- 
ditions it  is  difficult,  and  perhaps  impossible,  to 
harmonize ;  assumptions  that  the  one  is  an  inten- 
tional modification  of  the  other,  or  that  tliey  are 
contradictory,  must  be  carefully  examined ;  sug- 
gestions that  they  are  supplementary,  or  mutually 
explanatory,  must  be  fairly  considered.  State- 
ments in  the  Fourth  Gospel  which  are  said  to 
show  John's  bias  against  Judas  will  be  investigated 
in  due  course. 

ii.  Name  and  Dksk:x atkins.     f«)  J>i(hrs.—ln 

all  the  lists  of  theTwrlvr  il,i,  i,  tl,r  „; f  the 

Apostle  mentioned  lii>t.  AhhIIhi  .\|«i^tlo.  (see 
preoed.  art.  No.  1)  bore  tlii>  lomiiKin  .Jewish  name, 
but  'Judas'  now  means  the  Betrayer  of  Jesus. 
His  sin  has  stamped  the  word  with  such  evil 
significance  that  it  has  become  the  class-name  of 
perfidious  friends,  who  are  '  no  better  than  Judases' 
(cf.  'Judas-hole,'  '  Judas-trap,' etc.). 

'Uiiois  is  the  Or.  form  of  the  Heb.  Judah  (.Tiin;),  which  in 
On  2936  is  derived  from  the  verb  '  to  praise '  (ni;),  and  is  taken 
as  meaning  '  one  who  is  the  subject  of  praise '  (cf.  On  498).  Xhe 
etymology'  is  disputed,  but  in  its  popular  sense  it  suggests  a 
striking  paradox,  when  used  of  one  whose  name  became  a 
synonym  for  shame. 

(b)  Isrririot :  the  u.sual  surname  of  Judas.  'Io-ko- 
piCiff,  a  transliteration  from  Heb. ,  is  the  best  attested 
readiuir  in  Mk  3'»  W",  Lk  6'";  'IffKapidrr/s,  the 
Gra-cized  form  in  Mt  26",  Lk  '22^  Jn  6"  13=-  ="  ; 
6  'laKapLwryi  in  Mt  in',  Jn  12'  14".  Eight  of  these 
passages  refer  («>  .Iu.Ims;  in  two  (Jn  6"  13=«)  his 
father  Simon  is  ealleil  IseMiiot;  once  (Jn  14~)  his 


fellow-Api 


istiiinuislied    from    his   more 


908 


JUDAS  ISCARIOT 


JUDAS  ISCARIOT 


famous  namesake  as  'not  the  Iscaiiot.'  Only  in 
Jn  13-  does  the  full  phrase  occur — '  Judas  Iscariot, 
the  son  of  Simon.'  Nestle  thinks  that  otto  KapidiTov, 
a  reading  of  Codex  Bez.Te,  found  four  times  in  Jn 
instead  of  'IffKapubr-ijs,  is  a  paraphrastic  rendering 
of  Iscariot  by  the  aiithor  of  the  Fourth  Gospel. 
Chase  furnishes  other  evidence  for  this  reading 
{The  Syro-Latin  Text  of  the  Gospels,  p.  102  f.),  but 
argues  that  it  cannot  be  part  of  the  original  text. 
His  conclusion  is  that  an  early  Syriac  translator 
represented  'Itr/ca/jniTijs  by  this  paraphrase  (cf.  ExpT 
ix.  pp.  189,  240,  285). 

Two  facts  already  mentioned  have  an  important 
bearing  on  the  interpretation  of  'IcrKaptwT-ijs :  (1) 
the  true  reading,  '  Simon  Iscariot,'  shows  that  the 
epithet  Avas  equally  applicable  to  the  father  and 
the  son,  and  this  twofold  use  of  the  word  suggests 
that  it  is  a  local  name ;  (2)  the  paraphrase  oTro 
KapiuTov  confirms  the  view  that  Judas  is  named 
after  his  place  of  abode  (cf.  Zahn,  Dns  Evanefc/iiim 
des  Matthaus,  p.  393).  Cheyne  says  '  we  should 
have  expected  airo  nepiud,'  yet  admits  that  'it  is  a 
plausible  view'  that  'la-Kapiiinjs  is  derived  from 
Ish-Kerioth  (ninp  p-n),  'a  man  of  Kerioth '  {Enci/. 
Bibl.  ii.  2624).  Dalman  (The  Words  of  Jcsns,  p. 
51  f.)  thinks  that  'la-Kapiu0  was  the  original  reading, 
and  points  back  to  the  Hebrew,  whilst  6  a-n-d  Kapi- 
lirou  corresponds  to  the  equivalent  Aramaic  nv-ipl 
or  ninp  ip'i  Hence  the  surname  Iscariot  probably 
means  'a  Kariothite.' 

It  is  impossible  to  say  with  certainty  where  the 
Kerioth  was  situate  of  which  Judas  was  a  native. 
( 1 )  On  account  of  this  difficulty,  ChejTie  conjectures 
that  'lepixi^Tris,  'a  man  of  Jericho,'  is  the  true 
reading.  (2)  The  majority  of  scholars  incline  to 
the  view  that  Kerioth  is  the  Kerioth-Hezron  or 
Hazor  of  Jos  15=^  (Vulg.  Carioth) ;  Buhl  identifies 
the  place  with  the  modern  Karjaten  in  South  Judah 
{GAP  p.  182).  (3)  Others  suggest  the  Kerioth  men- 
tioned in  Am  2-,  Jer  48^  (LXX  KapiwO), — an  im- 
portant city,  either  Kir-Moab,  or  Ar,  the  capital 
of  Moab.  Harper  ('Am.  and  Hos.,'  Int.  Crit.  Com. 
p.  42)  says  that  'the  reference  in  the  Moabite 
stone  (1.  13)  favours  Ewald's  view  that  it  is  another 
name  for  Ar. '  A  less  jjrobable  opinion  is  that  the 
town  referred  to  is  Kopiai  or  Kurawa  (Jos.  BJ  I. 
vi.  5,  IV.  viii.  1  ;  Ant.  XIV.  iii.  4)  in  North  Judoea 
(Buhl,  GAP  p.  181).  If  any  one  of  these  towns 
was  the  birthplace  of  Judas,  he  was  not  a  Galilrean. 

(c)  'One  of  the  Twelve.' — In  the  Synoptic  Gospels 
this  phrase  is  found  only  in  the  narrative  of  the 
Betrayal,  and  it  is  applied  only  to  Judas.  It  marks 
the  mingled  sorrow  and  indignation  of  the  Evan- 
gelists, that  mthin  that  select  circle  there  could  be 
a  .single  treacherous  heart.  The  simple  formula 
is  once  changed  by  St.  Luke  {'22''),  who  adds  to  his 
statement  that  '  Satan  entered  into  Jiidas '  these 
significant  words :  '  being  of  the  number  of  the 
twelve' — i.e.  counted  among  those  whom  Jesus 
called  His  friends,  but  about  to  become  an  ally  of 
His  foes,  because  in  spirit  he  was  'none  of  liis' 
(cf.  Mt  26»--",  Mk  14'<'-=»-«  Lk  22=--").  In  the 
Fourth  Gospel  the  phrase  is  used  once  of  another 
than  Judas ;  like  a  note  of  exclamation,  it  ex- 
presses surprise  that  Thomas,  a  member  of  the 
Apostolic  band,  was  a))sent  when  the  risen  Saviour 
appeared  to  His  disciples  (Jn  202').  gu^  gj.  John 
also  applies  the  phrase  to  Judas,  giving  it  a  position 
in  which  its  tragic  and  pathetic  emphasis  cannot 
be  mistaken  :  '  You— the  twelve,  did  not  I  choose  '; 
and  of  you  one  is  a  devil.  Now  he  spake  of  Judas, 
the  son  of  Simon  Iscariot  ;  for  it  was  he  that  was 
about  to  betray  him — one  of  the  twelve'  (6™-"). 
St.  John's  phrase  {ds  ^k  tCiv  SuS(Ka)  differs  slightly 
from  that  used  by  the  Synoptists  {eh  rdv  ouiSena) ; 
Westcott  suggests  that  it  marks  '  the  unity  of  the 
body  to  which  the  unfaithful  member  belonged ' 
{Com.  inloc). 


That  Judas  was  'one  of  the  twelve'  is  an  im- 
portant factor  in  the  problem  presented  by  his 
history.  It  implies  that  Jesus  saw  in  him  the 
material  out  of  which  an  Apostle  might  have  been 
made,— the  clay  out  of  which  a  vessel  unto  honour 
might  have  been  shaped ;  it  implies  that  Judas, 
of  free-will,  chose  to  follow  Jesus  and  to  continue 
with  Him  ;  and  it  implies  that  Judas  heard  from 
the  Master's  lips  words  of  gracious  warning  against 
the  peril  of  his  besetting  sin.  On  the  other  hand, 
the  fact  that  Judas  was  '  one  of  the  twelve '  does 
not  imply  that  Jesus  had  the  betrayal  in  view 
when  He  chose  this  Apostle  and  entrusted  him 
with  the  common  purse ;  it  does  not  imply  that 
even  in  that  most  holy  environment  Judas  was 
exempted  from  the  working  of  the  spiritual  law 
that  such  '  evil  things '  as  '  thefts  .  .  .  covetings, 
.  .  .  deceit  .  .  .  proceed  from  within,  and  defile 
the  man'  (Mk  7--'-);  and  it  does  not  imply  that 
there  were  no  good  impulses  in  the  heart  of  Judas 
when  he  became  a  disciple  of  Jesus.  Of  Judas  in 
his  darkest  hour  the  words  of  Lavater  are  true  :  he 
'  acted  like  Satan,  but  like  a  Satan  who  had  it  in 
him  to  be  an  Apostle.' 

In  Mk  14'"  the  best  supported  reading  (NBCLM) 
is  6  eh  Twv  SdideKa,  with  a  note  in  RVm — '  Gr.  the 
one  of  the  twelve.'  Wright  {Synopsis  of  the  Gospels 
in  Greek,  p.  31,  cf.  p.  147)  is  of  opinion  that  Mk. 
distinctly  calls  Juclas  'the  chief  of  the  twelve.' 
He  takes  6  eh  as  equal  to  6  Trpuros,  as  in  tJ  /u^  tGiv 
aa^§6.ru)v  (Mk  16°).  But  the  definite  article  is  not 
found  with  this  phrase  in  any  other  passage  in  the 
Gospels ;  moreover,  it  is  almost  impossible  to 
believe  that  when  the  Gospels  were  written  the 
assertion  that  Judas  was  '  the  chief '  or  even 
primus  inter  pares  had  a  place  in  the  original 
text.  On  the  other  hand.  Field  {Notes  on  the 
Translation  of  the  NT,  in  loc.)  is  scarcely  justified 
in  saying  '  6  eh  tuv  S.  can  mean  nothing  but  "  the 
first  (No.  1)  of  the  twelve,"  which  is  absurd.'  *  The 
unique  reading  may,  however,  preserve  a  genuine 
reminiscence  of  a  time  in  the  earlier  ministry  of 
Jesus  when  Judas,  the  treasurer  of  the  Apostolic 
company,  had  a  kind  of  priority.  If  this  were  so, 
there  would  come  a  time  when,  as  Wright  suggests, 
the  supporters  of  Judas  would  become  '  jealous  of 
the  honour  bestowed  on  Peter.'t  Jealousy  would 
account  not  only  for  the  dispute  about  rival  claim* 
to  be  the  greatest,  but  also  for  the  respective 
positions  of  Judas  and  Peter  at  the  supper-table. 
The  most  probable  explanation  of  the  details  given 
(Mt  26=3,  Jn  13=«-  =«)  is  that  John  was  reclining  on 
the  right  of  Jesus ;  but  Judas  '  claimed  and  ob- 
tained the  chief  seat  at  the  table '  next  Jesus,  and 
was  reclining  on  His  left,  whilst  '  the  lowest  place 
was  voluntarily  taken  by  Peter,  who  felt  keenly 
the  Lord's  rebuke  of  this  strife  for  precedence ' 
(cf.  Andrews,  The  Life  ofonr  Lord,  p.  485  ;  Eders- 
heim,  Life  and  Times,  ii.  493).  -^ 

{d)  'A  thief — The  meaning  of  the  statement 
that '  Judas  was  a  thief '  ( Jn  12^)  is  cjuite  plain,  if 
the  RV  correctly  renders  the  following  sentence : 
'and  having  the  bag,  took  away  {ifiiaTa^ev)  what 
was  put  therein.'  ^aardfu)  means  (1)  to  bear,  (2)  to 
bear  away,  as  in  Jn  20'''  (ff-  'cattle-lifting').  Its 
use  in  the  sense  of  bearing  away  secretly  or  pilfer- 
ing is  established  (cf.  Field,  op.  cit.  in  loc.).  In 
this  context  the  statement  tliat  Judas  carried  the 
money  put  into  the  bag  which  was  in  his  possession 
seems  singularly  tame,  if  it  is  not  mere  repetition. 
On  the  other  hand,  to  say  that  Judas  had  formed 
the  habit  of  pilfering  is  a  natural  explanation  of 

*  Swetc  (Com.  in  loc.)  explains  the  phrase  as  a  contrast  with 
ei  Xeiroi,  *  the  rest ' ;  Judas  was  *  the  only  one  of  the  twelve  '  who 
turned  traitor. 

t  There  is  force  in  Edcrsheim's  remark  (Lt'.fe  and  Timet, 
ii.  536),  that  *  viewed  in  its  priniar.v  elements  (not  in  its  develop- 
ment) Peter's  character  was,  among  the  disciples,  the  likest  to 
that  of  Judas.' 


JUDAS  ISCAEIOT 


JUDAS  ISCARIOT 


909 


linji:  that  the  text 
word  'thief  has  1 
I   111:111,  and  used 


the  assertion  that  he  had  been  guilty  of  theft. 
Weiss  [Lcben  Jesu,  ii.  443)  thinks  that  'John  had 
found  out  thefts  committed  by  the  greedy  Judas ' ; 
this  does  not  necessarily  imply  that  the  thefts 
were  known  to  John  at  the  time  of  Mary's  anoint- 
ing, for  they  may  have  come  to  light  after  that 
act,  but  before  the  narrative  was  shaped  in  this 
form. 

The  rendering  of  e/Jcta-Tafe;'  by  the  neutral  word 
'  bare '  is  adopted  by  some,  who  hold  that  John's 
words  do  not  imply  more  than  that  Judas  had  a 
thievish  disposition.  Ainger  adopts  this  interpre- 
tation in  a  finely- wrought  study  of  the  character 
of  Judas  [The  Gospel  and  Human  Life,  p.  231).  It 
is  true  in  a  sense  that  '  he  may  have  been  a  thief 
long  before  he  began  to  steal,'  but  this  exposition 
involves  the  unlikely  assumption  that  the  betrayal 
of  Jesus  was  the  '  first  act  by  which  he  converted 
his  spirit  of  greed  into  actual  money  profit.'  If 
Judas  had  not  formed  the  habit  of  pilfering,  it  is 
more  difficult  to  understand  how  the  thirty  pieces 
of  silver  could  be  a  real  temptation  to  him. 

Cheyne  gets  rid  of  the  difficulty  by 
corrupt.  In  his  conjectural  enieiuiati 
place;  he  reads  'because  In-  \mi~   ;i 

i/3<5i<rT*2;0.      'The  statement  ;iK    I      11  ■   i  Ins  hypothetical 

text  is  then  naively  said  to  li^           .1,  1,    credit  than  it 

has  sometimes  received  from  ail,  ni^il  iiii-^  {Kiicy.  Bibl.  ii. 
2625). 

(e)  'Betrayer''  or  'traitor.' — In  the  list  of  the 
Apostles  given  in  Lk  6'"  there  is  a  variation  from 
the  phrase  by  which  Judas  is  usually  described. 
Instead  of  6s  /coi  TtapiSuK^v  avrbv  ('  who  also  betrayed 
him,'  lit.  '  delivered  him  up ')  St.  Luke  has  5s  iyi- 
veTo  TTpoSbr-qi,  well  rendered  by  Field—'  who  turned 
traitor '  (cf.  Amer.  RV  '  became  a  traitor  ' ;  Wey- 
mouth, 'proved  to  be  a  traitor').  The  translation 
in  the  EV— 'which  was  the  traitor' — neither 
brings  out  the  force  of  yhoimi.,  nor  the  significance 
of  the  omission  of  the  article. 

The  statement  that  Judas  'turned  traitor'  should 
be  remembered  in  framing  or  estimating  theories 
to  account  for  his  history ;  it  confirms  what  has 
been  said  on  this  subject  under  (c).  From  this 
point  of  view  the  various  phrases  used  in  the 
Gospels  will  rejjay  careful  discrimination :  most 
frequent  is  the  simple  statement  of  the  tragic  deed 
as  a  historic  fact — 'who  betrayed  him'  (Mk  3" 
wap^duKei') ;  but  there  is  also  the  prophecy,  '  The 
Son  of  Man  is  about  to  be  betrayed  '  (Mt  17--  /xAXei 
irapadiSo<reai),  and  the  statement,  when  the  time 
was  drawing  nigh,  that  the  process  had  already 
begun,  '  The  Son  of  Man  is  being  betrayed '  (Mt 
26'-'  TrapadiSoTai).  Similarly,  Judas  is  described  as 
'he  who  would  betray  him'  (Jn  6"  6  TapaSua-ioi>), 
'he  who  is  betraying  me'  (Mt  26^''  6  7ra/)a6i5oi'/s), 
and  as  '  he  who  had  betrayed  him '  (Mt  27^  o  Tropa- 
SoiJs).  In  this  connexion  Jn  6^  deserves  special 
attention  :  '  Jesus  knew  from  the  beginning  .  .  . 
who  it  was  that  should  betray  him.'  Needless 
difficulties  are  occasioned  when  '  from  the  be- 
ginning' is  regarded  as  referring  to  any  period 
before  the  call  of  Judas  ;  the  thought  seems  to  be 
that  Jesus  perceived  '  from  the  beginning '  of  His 
intercourse  with  Judas  the  spirit  that  was  in  him. 
Hence  the  statement  is  wrongly  interpreted  in  a 
fatalistic  sense.  The  rendering,  '  Jesus  knew  who 
it  was  that  would  betray  him '  has  the  advantage 
of  suggesting  that  Jesiis  discerned  the  thoughts 
and  intents  of  His  unfaithful  Apostle,  and  knew 
that  '  the  germ  of  the  traitor-spirit  was  already  in 
the  heart  of  Judas'  (cf.  W.  F.  Moulton  in  Schaff's 
Popular  Commentary,  in  loc.).* 

if)  'A  devil.'  —  In  Jn  6™  there  is  a  contrast 
between  the  hopes  of  Jesus  when  He  chose  (^|eX- 

♦  Our  Lord's  words  to  Pilate,  '  He  that  delivered  me  unto 
thee  hath  greater  sin'  (Jn  19' i),  are  sometimes  applied  to 
Judas ;  but  the  reference  is  almost  certainly  to  Caiaphas. 


e^aix-qp)  the  Twelve,  and  His  present  grief  over  the 
moral  deterioration  of  one  whose  nature  is  now 
devilish  (5id/3oX6s  ^ittiv).  Our  Lord's  spiritual  dis- 
course to  the  multitude  brought  all  wlio  heard  it 
to  the  parting  of  the  ways  ;  it  shattered  the  hopes 
of  those  who  were  eager  to  share  in  the  glories  of 
an  earthly  kingdom.  On  the  inner  circle  of  the 
Apostles  that  teaching  also  cast  its  searching  light ; 
to  Jesus,  though  not  to  Peter  (v.*'),  it  was  plain 
that  Judas  was  at  heart  a  deserter, — in  sympathy 
with  those  who  '  went  back  and  walked  no  more 
with  him.'  What  Jesus  detected  in  Judas  was  'a 
sudden  crystallization  of  evil,  diabolic  purpose, 
which  made  him  a  very  adversary  of  the  one 
whom  he  called  friend'  (Wright,  op.  cit.  in  loc.). 
But  an  adversary  is  not  an  irreconcilable  foe  ;  the 
assertion  taken  in  its  full  strength  of  meaning  is 
a  message  of  conciliation  as  well  as  of  warning. 
It  involved  no  lowerinj 
among  the  Twelve,  for  1 
and  it  assuredly  involved  no  relaxing  of  our  Lord's 
efforts  to  scatter  with  the  light  of  love  the  gloom 
which  was  creeping  into  the  heart  of  one  whom  He 
had  chosen  '  to  be  with  him.'  A  strained  inter- 
pretation of  the  saying  underlies  the  statement 
that  it  '  appears  to  be  inconsistent  with  the  equal 
confidence  in  all  the  disciples  shown  by  Jesus 
according  to  the  Synoptic  tradition '  (Ency.  Bibl. 
ii.  2624).  'No  man,'  says  Pressense,  'could  be 
more  akin  to  a  devil  than  a  perverted  apostle' 
[Jesus  Christ,  p.  324). 

(g)  'Son  of  perdition.' — The  Gr.  word  rendered 
'  perdition '  in  this  phrase  (Jn  17'°)  is  ctTriiXeia, 
which  signifies  the  state  of  being  lost.  It  is  the 
substantive  derived  from  the  same  root  as  the 
main  verb  of  the  sentence  (dTriiXero).  The  con- 
nexion of  thought  is  not  easy  to  reproduce  in 
English.  Ainger  (op.  cit.  p.  227)  brings  out  the 
sense  of  the  passage  in  a  paraphrase :  '  None  of 
them  is  lost,  but  he  whose  very  nature  it  was  to 
be  lost — he  (that  is  to  say)  whose  insensibility  to 
the  Divine  touch,  whose  irresponsiveness  to  the 
heavenly  discipline,  made  it  a  certainty  that  he 
should  fall  away.'  'The  apostasy  of  Judas  is  traced 
to  the  '  natural  gravitation '  of  his  character.  By 
a  well-known  Hebraism  Judas  is  described  as  the 
'.son  of  thrt  which  stamps  his  nature;  he  is  of 
such  a  character  that  his  pi-oper  state  is  one  of  loss 
(cf.  2  Th  2^).  The  same  word  (dirciXfto)  is  rendered 
'  waste '  in  the  Synoptic  accounts,  of  Mary's  anoint- 
ing (Mt  26",  Mk  14^).  'To  what  purpose  is  this 
waste?'  was  the  expression  of  indignation  of  'some' 
(Mk.)  of  the  disciples;  perhaps  it  was  originally 
the  question  of  Judas,  though  St.  John  does  not 
say  so.  It  may  well  be,  however,  that  he  whose 
audible  murmur,  '  Why  this  loss  or  waste  ? '  was 
echoed  by  the  other  disciples  is  himself  described 
by  Jesus  as  '  the  son  of  loss ' — '  the  waster.' 

This  verse  (Jn  1712)  is  often  appealed  to  by  rival  champions  of 
Calvinism  and  Arininianism.  In  Bishop  Sanderson's  Works 
(v.  324  f.)  there  is  a  letter  to  him  from  H.  Hammond,  who 
affirms  that '  here  it  is  expressly  said  that  Judas,  though  Ijy  his 
apostasy  now  become  the  son  of  perdition,  was  by  God  given  to 
Christ.'  But  the  true  reading  is,  '  I  kept  them  in  thy  name 
which  thou  hast  given  me '  (RY),  and  the  thought  (cf.  v.9  '  those 
whom  thou  hast  given  me ')  is  rather  that  '  they  in  whom  the 
Father's  object  is  attained '  are  those  '  given '  to  the  Son ;  Judas, 
therefore,  was  not  so  given.  'To  suppose  that  Judas  is  now 
brought  before  us  as  one  originally  doomed  to  perdition,  and 
that  his  character  was  but  the  evolving  of  his  doom,  would  con- 
tradict  not  only  the  meaning  of  the  Hebraic  expression  "son 
of"  (which  always  takes  for  granted  moral  choice),  but  the 
whole  teaching  of  this  Gospel.  In  no  book  of  the  NT  is  the  idea 
of  will,  of  choice  on  the  part  of  man,  brought  forward  bo  re- 
peatedly and  with  so  great  an  emphasis'  (W.  F.  Moulton,  op. 
cit.  in  loc). 

iii.  Other  NT  Kefekences  'to  Judas.— (a) 
Before  the  Bftrayal. — The  obscurity  which  rests 
upon  the  early  history  of  Judas  accounts  to  a  large 
extent  for  the  difficulty  of  estimating  his  character. 
But  for  occasional  allusions  in  the  Fourth  Gospel, 


910 


JUDAS  ISCARIOT 


JUDAS  ISCARIOT 


all  that  is  related  of  him  before  the  Betrayal  is 
that  he  was  one  of  the  chosen  Twelve,  and  that  he 
turned  traitor.  There  is,  however,  a  statement 
peculiar  to  St.  Luke  among  the  Synoptists,  which 
is  obviously  intended  to  furnish  an  explanation  of 
the  act  of  Betrayal — '  Satan  entered  into  Judas ' 
(22').  It  finds  a  fitting  place  in  the  introduction 
to  the  narrative  of  the  Betrayal  in  the  psycholo- 
gical Gospel  which  so  often  gives  internal  reasons  ; 
'  the  Gospel  of  the  physician  is  also  the  Gospel  of 
the  psychologist'  (Alexander,  Leading  Ideas  of  the 
Gospels,  p.  107).  The  same  phrase,  '  Satan  entered 
into  him  (eiariKdev  (h  iaetvov  6  SoTaKos),  is  also  found 
in  Jn  13",  and  it  is  preceded  by  the  statement  (13-) 
that  the  devil  had  '  already  put  into  the  heart  (fiSri 
j3e/3Xi)K6Tos  ei's  ttji'  KapSlav)  of  Judas '  the  thought  of 
betrayal.  It  is  true,  as  Cheyne  says  (Ency.  Bibl. 
ii.  2625),  that  in  Jn.  we  have  'a  modification  of 
the  Synoptic  tradition,'  but  that  is  not  equivalent 
to  '  quite  a  different  account.'  So  far  from  assert- 
ing that  '  it  was  at  the  Last  Supjier  that  the  hate- 
ful idea  occurred  to  Judas,'  St.  Jolin  prefaces  his 
description  of  the  proceedings  at  the  Supper  {Shtt^'ov 
yivoijAvov)  by  the  emphatic  assertion  that  '  already  ' 
(^5i)),  i.e.  at  some  time  other  than  the  Supper,  the 
suggestion  of  the  devil  had  been  entertained  by 
Judas.  In  St.  Luke's  brief  account  it  is  said,  once 
for  all,  that  '  Satan  entered  into  Judas.'  In  the 
Fourth  Gospel  the  genesis  of  the  foul  purpose  is 
distinguished  from  its  consummation  ;  the  Satanic 
influences  were  not  irresistible  ;  the  devil  had  not 
full  possession  of  the  heart  of  Judas  until,  '  after 
the  sop,'  he  acted  on  the  suggestion  which  had  then 
become  his  own  resolve. 

The  Fourth  Gospel  also  makes  the  Anointing  at 
Bethany  (12^'-)  a  definite  stage  in  the  process 
which  is  sometimes  called  the  '  demonizing '  of 
Judas,  but  is  better  described  a,s  his  '  giving  place 
to  the  devil '  (Eph  4^).  St.  Luke  does  not  mention 
Mary's  anointing.  St.  Matthew  and  St.  Mark 
have  full  accounts  of  it,  but  Judas  is  not  named  ; 
yet  immediately  after  the  narrative  of  the  Anoint- 
ing both  Mt.  and  Mk.  place  Judas'  offer  to  the 
chief  priests  to  betray  Jesus  for  money,  thus 
clearly  recognizing  an  intimate  connexion  between 
the  two  events.  St.  John  explains  this  sequence 
by  adding  the  significant  detail  that  the  murmur- 
ing against  Mary's  waste  of  ointment  had  its  origin 
in  the  heart  of  Judas.  Our  Lord's  defence  of 
Mary's  beautiful  deed  implied  a  rebuke  to  Judas, 


disillusionment  of  His  ambitious  Apostle.  The 
reproof  would  lankle ;  the  disappointment  would 
be  acute.  The  angry  spirit  engendered  by  such 
emotions  is  closely  akin  to  the  spirit  of  treachery 
and  revenge.  On  insufficient  grounds,  therefore, 
Gould  speaks  of  '  John's  evident  attempt  to  belittle 
Judas'  (Int.  Crit.  Com.,  note  on  Mk  \i*).  No 
more  likely  origin  of  the  murmuring,  which  Mas 
not  confined  to  Judas  (Mk  14^,  Mt  26*),  is  sug- 
gested. On  the  other  hand,  there  seems  to  be  no 
reason  for  belittling  St.  John  ;  his  addition  to  the 
Synoptic  Gospels  justifies  their  association  of 
Mary  s  anointing  with  Judas'  desertion  of  Christ ; 
it  also  furnishes  a  link  between  the  Anointing  of 
which  St.  Luke  gives  no  account  and  his  statement 
'  Satan  entered  into  Judas,' — that  statement  is  the 
psychological  explanation  of  the  actions  of  Judas 
recorded  in  the  narratives  of  the  Anointing  and 
the  Last  Supper. 

(b)  Dcsfvibing  the  Betrayal.— \ji  the  Passion 
narratives  all  the  Gospels  refer  to  our  Lord's  con- 
sciousness of  His  approaching  Betrayal ;  all  record 
His  announcement,  at  the  beginning  of  the  Supper, 
of  the  presence  of  the  Betrayer ;  and  all  mention 
the  consternation  and  self-questioning  of  the 
Apostles  to  which  that  statement  gave  rise  (Mk 


U""-,  Mt  26^'"-,  Lk  22="f-,  Jn  13="r-).  There  is  no 
reason  to  suppose  (Weiss)  that  Judas  was  defi- 
nitely indicated  by  our  Lord's  words,  '  He  that 
dipped  his  hand  with  me  in  the  dish,  the  same 
shall  betray  me '  (Mt  Se''^).  Before  the  lamb  was 
placed  on  the  table,  each  guest  dipped  his  own 
bread  into  the  bitter  sauce  and  ate  the  sop.  The 
aorist  participle  (6  ^/x/Sdi/'os)  refers  to  this  act,  but 
does  not  necessarily  fix  its  time ;  as  thus  inter- 
preted, the  phrase  is  in  harmony  with  the  vague 
expression  '  that  man,'  used  twice  in  v.'^,  with  the 
passage  quoted  (Jn  13'*)  from  Ps  41"  ('He  that 
eateth  my  bread ' ;  cf.  'messmate'),  and  with  the 
parallel  passage  in  Mk  14=»  where  the  present  par- 
ticiple is  used  (6  eiijiairTi/jiei'ot).  An  addition  to  the 
Synoptic  tradition  is  found  in  the  Fourth  Gospel, 
wliich  describes  Jesus  as  giving  a  sop  to  Judas 
(13-*).  At  Eastern  meals  this  was  a  mark  of  special 
attention  (cf.  Macmillan,  '  A  Mock  Sacrament,'  in 
ExpT  iii.  107  f. ) ;  our  Lord's  action  would  indicate 
the  traitor  to  the  disciple  who  was  '  leaning  back ' 
on  His  breast,  though  it  left  John,  like  the  rest,  in 
ignorance  of  the  meaning  of  the  words  with  which 
Jesus  urged  Judas  to  hasten  the  work  he  was 
already  doing  (v.^).  To  the  traitor  himself  the 
words  of  Jesus,  gradually  narrowing  in  their  range 
and  therefore  increasing  in  intensity,  were  at  once 
a  tender  appeal  and  a  final  warning.  St.  Matthew 
alone  records  the  question  of  Judas,  '  Is  it  I, 
Rabbi  ? '  and  our  Lord's  answer,  '  Thou  hast  said ' 
(26^).  If  Judas  had  the  chief  seat  at  the  table  next 
to  Jesus  (cf.  above,  ii.  (c)),  the  assent  conveyed, 
perhaps  in  a  whisper  and  certainly  not  in  the 
ordinary  form  (cf.  Dalman,  The  Words  of  Jesus, 
308  f.),  inust  have  had  for  him  a  tragic  significance. 
As  Zahn  points  out  {op.  cit.  in  loc.),  the  prefixed 
pronoun  in  aii  eliras  heightens  the  contrast  between 
the  questioner  and  the  speaker,  and  conveys  the 
meaning,  '  What  thou  hast  said,  there  is  no  need 
for  me  to  say.'  St.  Matthew  does  not  state  that  at 
this  juncture  Judas  left  the  Supper- table,  but  the 
next  allusion  to  Judas  (v.*')  implies  an  absence  of 
some  duration.  The  probable  solution  of  the  much- 
discussed  problem,  'Did  Judas  eat  the  Passover ? ' 
is  that,  altliougli  he  ate  the  sop  given  to  him  by 
Jesus  at  the  beginning  of  the  Supper,  he  had  gone 
out  into  the  darkness  (Jn  13^)  before  Jesus  gave 
the  bread  and  the  wine  to  His  disciples.  It  is  true 
that  in  Lk  22  the  narrative  of  the  Supper  precedes 
our  Load's  announcement  of  the  Betrayer's  presence, 
but  the  'order'  (P)  characteristic  of  this  Gospel 
does  not  imply  chronological  sequence  in  every 
detail ;  Wright  (op.  cit.  p.  132)  accounts  for  the 
variation  from  the  parallel  passages  by  the  sugges- 
tion that  St.  Luke  was  influenced  by  the  language 
of  St.  Paul  in  1  Co  11=". 

In  their  accounts  of  the  actual  Betrayal  of  our 
Lord  the  Synoptists  state  that  the  kiss  of  Judas 
was  the  prearranged  signal  for  His  arrest  (Mk 
14«,  Mt  26« ;  cf.  Lk  22").  In  the  Fourth  Gospel 
nothing  is  said  of  the  kiss,  but  a  graphic  account 
is  given  of  our  Lord's  unexpected  declaration  to 
His  foes  that  He  was  the  Nazarene  for  whom  they 
were  seeking  (18").  The  silence  of  St.  John  is  no 
proof  that  the  kiss  was  not  given  ;  nor  is  the  fact 
which  he  records  any  evidence  that  the  kiss  was 
superfluous.  A  sufficient  motive  for  the  self-mani- 
festation of  Jesus  is  mentioned  :  '  let  these  go  their 
way'  (v.*);  such  a  request  is  appropriate  whether 
the  kiss  of  Judas  be  placed  before  or  after  the 
question  of  Jesus,  'Whom  seek  ye?'  If  before, 
our  Lord  supplemented  the  Betrayer's  signal  owing 
to  tlie  hesitancy  of  the  awestruck  soldiers,  who 
shrank  from  arresting  Him.  If  after,  Judas  must 
have  been  disconcerted  by  our  Lord's  action ;  the 
kiss  would  not  be  given  until  later,  when,  as  his 
courage  returned,  he  did  not  scruple  to  kiss  his 
Master  with  the  unnecessary  demonstration  of  a 


JUDAS  ISCARIOT 


JUDAS  ISCARIOT 


feigned  afiection  (Kare0(X7,(re;',  Mk  14«,  Mt-  26''»). 
Our  Lord's  discernment  of  the  evil  purpose  under- 
lying this  emotional  display  is  indicated  by  His 
question,  'Judas,  betrayest  thou  the  Son  of  Man 
with  a  kiss?'  (Lk  2-2^").  In  Mt  26="  Jesus  is  re- 
ported to  have  also  said  (RV),  '  Friend,  do  that  for 
Avhich  thou  art  come '  (cf.  AV  '  Friend,  wherefore 
art  thou  come  ? '). 

Bruce  (Expos.  Gr.  Test,  in  loc.)  takes  the  laconic  phrase  if'  o 
tripu  as  a  'question  in  effect,  though  not  in  form'  ;  its  probable 
meaning  is  'Comrade,  anrl  as  a  conuade  here?'  (cf.  Bengel,  in 
loc.  ' Roccine  illud  est  mjiis  causa  adesV).  Blass  unneces- 
sarily (cf.  2212)  changes  s™;^i  into  «;>£,  which  yields  the 
meaning:  'take  away  that  for  which  thou  art  come,'  or  |^art 
here,'  according  as  Tupu  is  taken  from  ^ccptivcci  or  Tucpiivui. 
Cheyne  (Bncy.  Bibl.  ii.  262C)  conjectures  that  the  true  reading 
is  urrexpivu,  '  thou  actest  a  part,'  or  '  thou  art  no  friend  of  mine ' ; 
irmpt  is  got  rid  of  as  a  dittograph. 

(c)  After  the  Betrayal. — In  three  of  the  Gospels 
(Mk.,  Lk.,  Jn.)  there  is  no  mention  of  the  Betrayer 
after  the  arrest  of  Jesus  ;  but  Mt  27^°^-  relates  the 
after-history  and  fate  of  Judas  as  the  fulfilment  of 
prophecy.  The  ascription  to  Jeremiah  of  Zee  11'^ 
is  probably  due  to  a  failure  of  memory  ;  the 
passage  is  freely  quoted,  and  may  include  reminis- 
cences of  the  language  of  Jeremiah  (cf.  IS^'^-  IQ'"- 
326ff.).  The  absence  of  'lepefiiov  from  some  of  the 
Old  Lat.  and  ancient  Syr.  VSS  shows  that  the 
name  was  a  stumbling-block  to  early  translators 
of  the  NT.  Zahn  (Gesch.  clcs  NT  Kanons,  ii.  696) 
says  that  the  Nazarenes  had  a  Hebrew  MS  ascribed 
to  Jeremiah,  in  which  tlie  passage  is  found  ver- 
batim,— 'manifestly  an  Apocryphon  invented  to 
save  the  honour  of  Matthew.'  The  variations 
from  the  Heb.  and  LXX  are  not  consistent  with 
the  theory  that  the  Evangelist's  narrative  is  a 
legend  evolved  from  the  passage  in  Zechariah ; 
they  are  explicable  on  the  supposition  that  the 
facts  suggested  the  prophecy.  J.  H.  Bernard 
(Expositor,  6th  series,  ix.  422  ff.)  shows  that  St. 
Matthew's  account  must  be  based  upon  '  a  tradi- 
tion independent  of  the  prophecy  cited.'  The 
'  salient  features '  of  tliis  tradition  are  thus  sum- 
marized— '  (a)  Judas,  stricken  by  remorse,  returned 
the  money  paid  liiiii  ;  (h)  lie  lianged  himself  in 
despair  ;  (c)  the  ]iriests  with  tliu  money  buuj;lit  a 
field  called  the  "  Potter's  l''ifia,"  which  was  hence- 
forth called  'A7pAs  Ai'/iaros ;  ((/)  the  field  was  used 
as  a  cemetery  for  forei>.;ners.'  The  point  of  con- 
nexion between  the  fact  and  the  jiropheey  is  the 
exact  correspondence  between  the  amount  paid  for 
the  prophet's  hire  and  for  the  prophet  of  Nazareth's 
betrayal.  In  both  cases  the  paltry  sum  was  tlie 
expression  of  the  nation's  ingratitude  ;  the  thirty 
pieces  of  silver  was  the  price  of  a  slave  (Ex  21-'-). 
Meditating  on  the  details  of  the  Betrayal,  the 
Evangelist  called  to  mind  the  experience  of  Zech- 
ariah, and  saw  in  it  the  foreshadowing  of  the 
treatment  of  Jesus  in  which  the  sin  of  a  thankless 
people  reached  its  climax. 

In  Ac  1''- "  a  different  account  of  the  death  of 
Judas  is  given.  Plummer  regards  the  tradition 
preserved  in  the  Gospel  as  '  nearer  in  time  to  the 
event,  and  probably  nearer  to  the  truth  '  (Hastings' 
DB  ii.  798").  Bartlet  holds  that  the  Lukan  tra- 
dition '  represents  the  actual  facts  most  nearly ' 
('Acts'  in  Cent.  Bible,  Note  A).  The  chief  argu- 
ment for  the  latter  view  is  a  saying  of  Papias  which 
resembles  the  statement  in  Acts,  though  it  adds 
repulsive  details  (Cramer,  Catena  on  Mt.).  Dr. 
Bendel  Harris,  AJTh  iv.  4901?.,  thinks  that  the 
Papias  tradition  is  '  the  fountainhead  of  the  Judas 
legends,  to  which  fountainhead  Luke  lies  nearer 
than  Matthew.'  The  difficulties  involved  in  this 
supposition  are,  (1)  that  it  treats  the  account  in 
Matthew  as  '  a  mere  substitution ' ;  (2)  that  it 
involves  the  conjecture  of  an  original  reading  in 
Acts,  '  he  swelled  up  and  burst  asunder.'  It  is 
more  probable  that  the  Papias  story  contains  later 


additions  from  folk  -  lore  than  that  the  present 
text  of  Acts  omits  essential  details.  Dr.  Harris 
points  out  striking  coincidences  between  the  Judas 
narratives  and  the  accounts  of  the  death  of  Nadan, 
the  traitorous  nephew  of  Ahikar,  Sennacherib's 
grand  vizier ;  but  the  parallel  does  not  prove  that 
the  Ahikar  stories  are  '  the  literary  parent '  of  the 
Judas  stories.  Knowling  (Expos.  Gr.  Test,  in  loc.) 
rightly  says  :  '  Whatever  may  be  alleged  as  to 
tlie  growth  of  popular  fancy  and  tradition  in  the 
later  account  in  Acts  of  the  death  of  Jiulas,  it 
cannot  be  said  to  contrast  unfavourably  ^^■ith  the 
details  given  by  Papias,  Fragment  18,  which 
Blass  describes  as  "  insulsissima  et  foidissima." ' 
See,  further,  Akeldama. 

iv.  The  Character  of  Judas.— (a)  The  good 
motives  theori/. —Msmj  have  attempted  to  explain 
the  action  of  Judas  as  arising  not  from  treachery 
and  avarice,  but  from  an  honest  endeavour  to 
arouse  Jesus  to  action  and  to  liasten  His  Messianic 
triumph.  Modern  writers  reproduce,  with  slight 
modifications,  the  theory  to  which  the  charm  of 
De  Quincey's  literary  style  has  imparted  a  fascina- 
tion out  of  all  proportion  to  its  probability  ( Works, 
vi.  21  ff.  ;  cf.  Whately,  Essays  on.  Dangers  to  the 
Chriitian  Faith,  Discourse  iii.).  The  theory  as- 
sumes (1)  that  Jesus,  like  Hamlet,  was  'sublimely 
over-gifted  for  purposes  of  speculation,  .  .  .  but 
not  correspondingly  endowed  for  the  business  of 
action';  (2)  that  Judas  was  alive  to  the  danger 
resulting  from  this  morliid  feature  in  the  tempera- 
ment of  Jesus,  and  acted  not  from  perfidy,  but 
with  a  genuine  conviction  that  if  Christ's  kingdom 
was  to  be  set  up  on  earth,  He  'must  be  compro- 
mised before  doubts  could  have  time  to  form.' 
This  theory  implies  that  the  judgment  of  Judas 
was  at  fault,  but  that  he  had  no  evil  intent ;  it 
finds  no  support  in  the  Gospel  history,  and  it  is 
inconsistent  with  our  Lord's  stern  words  of  con- 
demnation. 

(b)  The  Satan  incarnate  theory. — Dante  (Inferno, 
xxxiv.  62)  places  Judas  in  the  Giudecca,  the  lowest 
circle  of  the  frozen  deep  of  Hell,  accounting  him 
a  sharer  in  the  sin  of  Satan,  inasmuch  as  his 
treachery  was  aggravated  by  ingratitude  towards 
his  benefactor.  A  similar  tendency  to  set  Judas 
apart  as  the  arch  -  villain  is  manifest  in  works 
which  reflect  the  popular  imagination.  Critics  of 
tlie  Ober-Ammergau  Passion-pUiy  complain  that 
the  Betrayer  is  represented  as  a  low,  cunning 
rascal,  and  is  often  made  to  look  ridiculous.  But 
the  comic  personifications  of  Judas,  as  of  Satan 
himself,  in  folk-lore  are  really  tokens  of  popular 
abhorrence  (cf.  Biittner,  Judas  Licharioth,  p.  11  f.) ; 
they  are  the  result  of  regarding  him  as  an  incarna- 
tion of  Satanic  wickedness.  Daub,  in  the  Intro- 
duction to  a  speculative  work  on  the  relation  of 
good  to  evil  (Judas  Licharioth,  oder  Betrachtungen 
iibcr  dasBoseim  Verhiiltniss zum  Giitcn),  conceives 
Judas  as  the  Satanic  kingdom  personified  in  con- 
trast with  Jesus  who  is  the  Divine  kingdom  per- 
.sonified  ;  Judas  is  'an  incarnation  of  the  devil.' 
Dr.  Fairbairn,  who  gives  (Studies  in  the  Life  of 
Christ,  p.  264 f.)  a  succinct  summary  of  Daubs 
'  gruesome  book,'  truly  says  that  he  is  '  unjust  to 
Judas,  sacrificing  his  historical  and  moral  signifi- 
cance to  a  speculative  theory.'  The  practical 
efl'ect  of  such  exaggerations  of  the  innate  vice 
of  Judas  is  to  place  him  outside  the  pale  of 
humanity ;  but  they  are  as  untrue  to  the  Evan- 
gelists' delineation  of  his  character  as  are  the 
attempts  to  explain  away  his  sin.  The  same 
objection  may  be  urged  against  theories  which 
portray  Judas  as  a  mere  compound  of  malice  and 
greed,  uninfluenced  by  any  high  impulse  or  noble 
ambition.  In  the  Gospels  he  appears  as  a  man 
'  of  like  nature  with  ourselves ' ;  he  was  both 
tempted  of  the  devil  and  'drawn  away  by  his 


JUDAS  ISCARIOT 


JUDAS  ISCARIOT 


own  lust ' ;  Satan  approached  his  soul  along 
avenues  by  which  he  draws  near  to  us ;  he  was 
not  '  twofold  more  a  son  of  hell '  than  ourselves 
(Mt  23'^);  he  went  to  'his  own  place'  in  the 
'outer  darkness,'  because  he  turned  away  from 
the  '  light  of  life ' ;  the  darkness  '  blinded  his 
eyes'  because  he  would  not  abide  in  the  light, 
though  '  the  true  light '  was  shining  upon  him 
(cf.  1  Jn  2«f-). 

(c)  Tlte  mingled  motives  theory. — The  key  to  the 
complex  problem  of  the  character  of  Judas  is  not 
to  be  found  in  a  single  word.  The  desire  to 
simplify  his  motives  has  led,  on  the  one  hand,  to 
an  attempt  to  exonerate  him  from  guilt ;  and,  on 
the  other  hand,  to  a  description  of  him  as  the 
devil  incarnate.  The  truth  lies  between  the  two 
extremes ;  in  Judas,  possibilities  of  good  were  un- 
realized because  he  'gave  place  to  the  devil.'  It 
is  a  mistake  to  set  one  motive  over  against  another, 
as  though  a  man  of  covetous  disposition  may  not 
also  be  ambitious,  and  as  though  an  ambitious 
man  may  not  also  be  jealoiis.  The  references  to 
Judas  in  the  Gospels,  to  which  attention  has 
already  been  called  in  this  article,  furnish  reasons, 
it  is  believed,  for  saying  that  Judas  was  swayed 
by  all  three  motives,  one  being  sometinits  mure 
prominent  than  another,  and  the  one  re;utiiig 
upon  the  other.  It  may  well  be  that  amliitiou 
would,  for  a  time,  restrain  covetousness,  and  yet 
revive  it  in  the  hour  of  disappointment ;  whilst, 
in  turn,  jealousy  would  embitter,  and  covetousness 
would  degrade  ambition. 

(a)  Violence  is  done  to  the  statements  of  the 
Evangelists  when  covetousness  is  eliminated  from 
the  motives  which  influenced  Judas.  His  covetous 
disposition  is  not  incompatible  either  with  the  fact 
that  he  was  a  disciple  of  Jesus  of  his  own  free  will, 
or  with  his  position  of  trust,  or  with  his  remorse 
at  the  consequences  of  his  perfidy.  (1)  The  call 
of  Jesus  would  arouse  '  a  new  affection,'  powerful 
enough  to  expel  for  a  time  all  selfish  greed,  even 
though  Judas,  like  the  rest  of  the  disciples,  cher- 
ished the  hope  of  attaining  to  honour  in  the 
Messianic  kingdom.  (2)  His  appointment  by  Jesus 
to  a  position  of  trust  scarcely  '  proves  that  he  was 
no  lover  of  money'  (Fairbairn,  op.  cit.  p.  266) ;  to 
entrust  a  man  possessing  more  than  ordinary 
business  gifts  with  the  common  cash-box  is  to 
provide  him  with  an  opportunity  of  honourable 
service  which  may  become  the  occasion  of  his 
downfall ;  it  was  along  the  line  of  his  capacity 
to  handle  moneys  that  the  temptation  came  to 
Judas  to  handle  them  to  his  own  gain.  (3)  The 
objection  that  the  remorse  of  Judas  discredits  the 
idea  of  his  being  actuated  by  greed  of  money  has 
force  only  when  covetousness  is  regarded  as  the 
sole  motive  of  the  betrayal.  What  we  know  of 
the  conduct  of  Judas  towards  the  close  of  his 
career  suggests  that  covetousness — the  sin  against 
which  Jesus  had  so  earnestly  warned  His  disciples 
— was  once  more  gaining  the  upper  hand. 

(^)  To  say  that  Judas  was  ambitious  is  not  to 
differentiate  him  from  his  fellow-Apostles.  The 
contrast  between  him  and  them  was  gradually 
brought  to  light  as  together  they  listened  to  the 
spiritual  teaching  of  Jesus;  that  contrast  is  de- 
finitely marked  by  St.  John  when  he  first  men- 
tions Judas  (6")-  It  was  a  time  of  crisis ;  the 
Apostles  had  been  severely  tested  (1)  by  the 
refusal  of  Jesus  to  accept  the  homage  of  the 
Galilican  crowd,  who  had  oeen  impressed  by  His 
recent  niirMcles  and  desired  perforce  to  make  Him 
king  ;  (2)  by  the  searching  question,  '  Would  ye 
also  go  away?'  (v.*")  put  by  Jesus  to  the  Twelve, 
when  Master  and  disciples  were  alike  saddened  by 
the  desertion  of  the  many.  St.  Peter  thought  he 
was  speaking  for  all  the  Twelve  when  he  made  his 
of  faith ;  but  within  that  select  circle 


there  was  one  who  had  not  found  in  Christ  all 
that  he  Avas  seeking.  Jesus  saw  that  already  in 
spirit  Judas  was  a  deserter,  and,  as  Westcott 
points  out,  a  man  who  regards  Christ  '  in  the  light 
of  his  own  selfish  views'  is  'turning  good  into 
evil'  (Sia/SdXXeii'),  and  is,  therefore,  a  partaker  of 
'that  which  is  essential  to  the  devil's  nature' 
(Speaker's  Com.  in  loc.).  It  was  in  the  light  of 
the  Betrayal  that  St.  John  came  not  only  to 
recognize  in  Judas  the  disloyal  Apostle  to  whom 
Christ  referred  without  mentioning  his  name,  but 
also  to  perceive  the  significance  of  the  words  of 
Jesus,  '  One  of  you  is  a  devil '  (6™).  The  whole 
incident  shows  that  the  words  and  actions  of  Jesus 
had  proved  a  disillusionment  to  Judas;  when  he 
joined  the  disciples  of  Christ,  he  hoped  for  more 
than  '  words  of  eternal  life ' ;  baffled  ambition  was 
one  of  the  motives  which  prompted  him  to  do  the 
devil's  work  of  betrayal. 

(7)  Reasons  for  believing  that  jealousy  was  one 
of  the  motives  w'hich  led  Judas  to  turn  traitor 
have  been  given  above  (cf.  ii.  (c)).  An  ambitious 
man  is  peculiarly  susceptible  to  this  temptation. 
It  would  embitter  Judas  to  realize  that  he  was 
in  a  false  position  owing  to  his  misconception  of 
the  aims  of  Christ,  that  his  chances  of  advance- 


greater  than  he.  In  proportion  as  others  gained 
a  higher  place  than  himself  in  the  esteem  of  Christ, 
the  expectations  he  had  been  cherishing  would 
fade.  '  Trifles  light  as  air  are  to  the  jealous  con- 
firmation '  of  their  fears.  Fuller  knowledge  of  the 
life  of  Judas  would  probably  enable  us  to  see  this 
sin  in  germ.  It  may  also  be,  as  Ainger  suggests 
(op.  cit.  p.  234),  that  the  Evangelists  are  silent 
laecause  '  there  was  so  little  to  tell.'  Judas  is 
described  as  'a  sullen  and  silent  person  .  .  . 
dwelling  ever  on  himself  —  how  he  should  profit 
if  the  cause  were  victorious,  how  Ae  might  sufier 
if  the  cause  should  fail.'  Such  a  man  would  be 
prone  to  jealousy  and  '  fit  for  treasons.' 

Whether  covetousness,  ambition,  or  jealousy 
was  the  basal  motive  of  Judas  when  he  betrayed 
Jesus,  it  is  difficult,  perhaps  impossible,  to  say.  It 
is  probable  that  the  flame  of  resentment,  kindled 
by  baffled  ambition,  was  fanned  by  malign  jealousy 
and  base  desire  to  snatch  at  paltry  gain  when  all 
seemed  lost.  That  the  thirty  pieces  of  silver  tor- 
mented Judas  does  not  prove  that  they  had  never 
attracted  him  ;  that  he  keenly  suffered  from  the 
pangs  of  remorse  makes  neither  his  evil  deed  nor 
his  evil  motives  good.  All  that  we  are  warranted 
in  saying  is  well  expressed  by  Bnice  (The  Training 
of  the  Twelve,  p.  367) :  '  He  was  bad  enough  to  do 
the  deed  of  infamy,  and  good  enough  to  be  unable 
to  bear  the  burden  of  its  guilt.  Woe  to  such  a 
man  !  Better  for  him,  indeed,  that  he  had  never 
been  born  ! ' 

V.  References  to  Judas  in  post  -  Biblical 
Literature.  —  (a)  Apocryphal  works.  —  In  the 
Gospel  of  the  Twelve  Apostles  Judas  Iscariot  is 
mentioned  (§  2).  In  the  Arabic  Gospel  of  the 
Childhood  (§  35)  Judas  is  represented  as  possessed 
by  Satan  at  the  birth  of  Jesus ;  he  tried  to  bite 
Jesus,  but  could  not ;  he  did,  however,  strike 
Jesus,  and  immediately  Satan  went  forth  from 
him  in  the  shape  of  a  mad  dog.  In  the  Gospel  of 
Judas  (Ireu.  adv.  Ifecr.  i.  31  ;  cf.  Epiph.  xxxviii. 
1.  3)  the  Cainites — an  important  Gnostic  sect — are 
said  to  have  declared  '  that  Judas  the  traitor  .  .  . 
knowing  the  truth  as  no  others  did,  alone  accom- 
plished the  mystery  of  the  betrayal.'  In  the  Acts 
of  Peter  (§  8),  Peter  speaks  of  Judas  as  his  '  fellow- 
disciple  and  fellow-apostle ' ;  he  also  refers  to  his 
'godless  act  of  betrayal.'  In  the  Acts  of  Thomas 
(§  32)  tlie  drat'on  or  serpent  says,  'I  am  he  who 
inflamed  and  bribed  Judas  to  deliver  the  Messiah 


JUDAS  ISCARIOT 


JUDGING 


to  death.'  Later  (§  84),  there  is  a  warning  against 
'theft,  which  enticed  Judas  Iscariot  and  caused 
him  to  hang  himself.'  The  account  of  the  death 
of  the  serpent  (§  32)  probably  contains  reniLnis- 
cences  of  the  story  of  the  death  of  Judas ;  after 
sucking  the  poison  the  serpent  'began  to  swell,' 
and  ultimately  'burst.'  Dr.  Rendel  Harris  {op. 
cit.  p.  508)  quotes  from  Solomon  of  Bassora,  The 
Book  of  the  Bee,  the  interesting  comparison  :  'Judas 
Iscariot,  the  betrayer,  .  .  .  was  like  unto  the 
serpent,  because  he  dealt  craftily  with  the  Lord.' 

(6)  Early  Christian  writings.— Clement  of  Rome 
(1  Bp.  ad  Cor.  xlvi.  8)  combines  '  the  words  spoken 
by  our  Lord  with  regard  to  Judas'  (Mt  26-''  = 
Mk  14^')  with  '  a  saying  recorded  in  another  con- 
nexion in  the  three  Synoptic  Gospels '  (cf.  Mt  18'"- 
etc.).  Hermas  {Vis.  IV.  ii.  6)  probably  borrows 
the  same  saying  from  the  Synoptists,  '  the  change 
being  no  greater  than  we  may  expect  when  there 
is  no  express  quotation  '  (cf.  The  NT  in  the  Apostolic 
Fathers,  pp.  61,  121). 

Papias  refers  to  the  horrible  end  of  Judas  (cf. 
above,  iii.  (c))  in  the  fourth  book  of  his  '  Exposi- 
tions of  the  Oracles  of  the  Lord'  (Cramer,  Catena 
in  Mat.  27).  From  the  same  book  Irensus  {adv. 
Hcer.  V.  33''- )  quotes  an  '  >in written '  saying  of 
Jesus,  foretelling  days  when  the  earth  .shall  be 
marvellously  fruitful,  and  the  animals  shall  be  at 

Seace.  Papias  further  says  that  '  when  the  traitor 
udas  did  not  give  credit  to  these  things,  and  put 
the  question,  "  How  then  can  things  about  to 
bring  forth  so  abundantly  be  wrought  by  the 
Lord?"  the  Lord  declared,  "They  who  shall  come 
to  these  [times]  shall  see." ' 

Tertullian,  like  Irenaeus  (cf.  above,  v.  {a)),  con- 
demns the  Cainites  because  they  held  the  conduct 
of  Judas  to  be  meritorious  ;  he  represents  them  as 
saying  {adv.  omnes  Hcereses,  ii.) :  '  Judas,  observing 
that  Christ  wished  to  subvert  the  truth,  betrayed 
Him.'  Tertullian  also  {adv.  Marcionem,  iv.  40) 
refers  to  the  treachery  of  Judas  as  predetermined 


by  prophecy. 
Origen  {coi 


(contra  Celsum,  ii.  11  f.)  replies  to  the 
'  childish  objection  that  no  good  general  was  ever 
betrayed ' ;  Celsus  is  reminded  that  he  had  learnt 
of  the  betrayal  from  the  Gospels,  and  that  he  had 
called  'the  one  Judas  many  disciples,'  thus  un- 
fairly stating  his  accusation  (cf.  also  Tract,  in 
Mat.  35). 

(c)  Folk-lore.— Some  of  the  wild  fablesabout  Judas 
may  be  traced  to  the  legend  of  the  Wandering  Jew 
(cf.  Moncure  D.  Conway,  art.  '  Jew '  in  Ency.  Brit.^ 
xiii.  674).  Another  source  of  popular  tradition  is  a 
17th  cent,  work  by  Ulrich  Megerle,  a  Vienna  priest, 
generally  known  as  Abraham  a  Santa  Clara.  His 
Judas  der  Erzschelm,  oder  eigentlicher  Entmurfund 
Lebensbeschreibtmg  des  Ischariotischen  Bosewichts 
was  translated  into  several  European  languages ; 
the  English  edition  bears  t!ie  title.  The  Arch- 
Knave,  or  the  History  of  Judas  from  the  cradle  to 
the  gallows.  From  the  Polyrhronicon  (14th  cent.) 
and  the  Golden  Legend  (13th  cent.)  many  stories 
of  Judas,  current  as  folk-lore,  are  supposed  to  be 
derived.  Many  curious  allusions  to  Judas  and 
quaint  customs  connected  with  his  name  are  men- 
tioned in  Notes  and  Queries,  ii.  5,  6,  7,  iii.  7,  iv.  1, 
V.  6.  Cholevius,  Geschichte  der  deutschen  Poesie 
nach  ihren  antiken  Elementen,  compares  the  Judas 
legend  with  the  CEdipus  story. 

Literature.— It  is  superfluous  to  name  Lives  of  Christ,  Com- 
mentaries on  the  Gospels,  and  articles  in  EncyclopEedias.  Men- 
tion has  already  been  made  of  the  most  important  works  which 
deal  with  the  NT  narratives  of  the  life  of  Judas,  to  which  may 
now  be  added  Expositor,  iii.  x.  [1889]  161  ff.  ;  Ker,  Senrums 
i.  282 Cf.;  Stalker,  Trial  and  Death  of  Jesm  Christ,  110ft. 
Interesting  studies  of  or  references  to  Judas  will  be  found  in 


of  JvAias  Iscariot ;  Keble,  Jxtdas'a 

in  Lyra  Innocentium).     Dr.  A.  B.  Grosart' mentions  Ofanni, 
VOL.  I.— s8 


Infancy  ('Cradle  Songs'  13 


.Sonnet  on  Judas  ;  a  few  German  poems  may  be  added  :  Klop. 
stock,  Mcssias,  3rd  Aufzug ;  Geibel,  Judas  Ischarioth ;  Max 
Crone,  Judasrdtsel  and  DerSohn  des  Verderbens. 

J.  G.  Tasker. 
JUDGING  (by  men).- 


1  the  NT  '  to  judge '  is  alwaj-s  a  tr  of  ypiv 


separate   put 


will  de  1  1  I  lu  1       lit  II     u  I  J    I      ent 

of  the  h  t  1  Ul  en        _,      i    trtidtitll       j    lt,(.    in  the 

NT  It  alwus  iTxohes  the  kindred  meanin„  of  leaihin,  a  de 
cision  or  of  action  consequent  upon  a  decision  In  a  number  of 
instances  it  means  to  determine  to  pursue  the  course  decided  uj  on 
ai>  bet,t  St  Paul  had  determmed  («w/i  xe )  to  sail  past  Ephesus 
(Ac  "^QlS)  he  determmed  (e^  va)  not  to  know  an^-thmg:  among 
the  Corinthians  sa\e  Jesus  Christ  and  Him  rucified  (1  Co  '*") 
not  to  come  to  them  in  TOrrow  (  (  )  Tl  e  Jews  denied  Jesus 
before  Pllat*  when  he  was  detern  i  c  1  (  c  o  )  to  let  Him  go 
(Ac  3"  see  al  3  41  '526  1  Lc  )  In  Mt  S*  -■p  t  .<ei  is 
rendered  feo  to  law  in  R\  and  other  forms  are  rendered 
condemn  (Ac  13-'?),  called  in  question  (24^1),  ordanied* 
(16J),  •esteemeth'(Eol45). 


1.  Judging  by  men  permitted  and  commended. — 
The  right  to  pass  judgment  ujpon  liolh  the  actions 
of  men  and  their  characlci>  .in  i)i;inifrsted  in  their 
conduct  is  implied  in  tli'-  |".\mt  of  rational  and 
moral  discrimination  which  nil  |i(isncss.  Its  exer- 
cise is  also  made  imperative  by  the  very  nature  of 
things.  Men  must  form  an  opinion  not  only  of 
the  quality  of  deeds,  but  also  of  those  who  do 
them,  if  there  is  to  be  the  prudent  and  wise  action 
in  our  necessary  relations  to  others,  which  shall  be 
best  for  us  and  for  them.  St.  Paul  recognizes  this 
power  of  moral  judgment  in  even  the  heathen 
(Ro  2"-"').  To  this,  truth  and  right  conduct  may 
confidently  appeal  (2  Co  4°).  He  commends  those 
who  exercise  it  upon  all  moral  questions,  and  hold 
fast  tlie  good  it  approves,  and  abstain  from  the  evil 
it  condemns  (ITho-'--).  It  is  to  this  moral  judg- 
ment that  all  true  teaching  and  preaching  appeal. 
Our  Lord  assumes  that  all  liave  the  power  to  Know 
the  quality  of  outward  deeds  of  men,  and  lays 
down  the  principle  that  the  quality  of  the  man 
corresponds  with  that  of  his  deeds  (Mt  7''""'),  and, 
therefore,  that  we  can  form  a  right  judgment  of 
men,  when  the  fruitage  of  their  lives  matures, 
however  much  they  may  seek  to  liiile  uiicier  false 
pretences.  To  this  great  prineipli'  "f  jmlLjiiiu  our 
Lord  made  frequent  appeal  in  lli-  <  oni  ro\ cisies 
with  the  Pharisees.  The  Satanic  cuiiduct  of  these 
leaders  proved  them  the  children  of  the  devil, — as 
having  his  natm-e  (Jn  8*-"),— while  His  own  works 
made  it  plain  He  was  from  God  ( Jn  5^  lO^*  etc. ). 
Even   in  Mt  7'"*,   in   connexion   with    our  Lord's 


strongest  condemnation  of  judging,  it  is  implied 
(vv."  5)  that  men  may  judge  others  guilty  of  faults 
and  help  to  cure  them  of  the  failings  discovered,  if 
they  but  be  free  enough  from  faults  tliemselves  to 
have  the  clearest  discernment.  He  also  censures 
the  Jews  (Lk  12^')  because  they  do  not  judge  what 
is  right  as  to  the  Messianic  time  of  His  preaching, 
as  they  do  the  signs  of  the  sky,  and  are  therefore 
in  danger  of  arraignment  and  condemnation  at  the 
Highest  tribunal. 

2.  The  judging  which  is  condemned.— (a)  That 
piompted  by  a  wrong  spirit.  Of  this  kind  is  that 
forbidden  by  our  Lord  in  Mt  7'"'.  It  is  prompted 
by  a  critical  and  censorious  .ytirit.  The  man 
possessed  by  this  disposition  subjects  others  to 
searching  scrutiny  to  find  out  faults.  Where  even 
the  smallest  defe'cts  are  discovered,  he  becomes  so 
absorbed  in  them  that  he  is  oblivious  alike  of  his 
own  greater  faults  and  the  greater  virtues  which 
may  be  associated  with  the  minor  f.aults  of  others. 
Those  who  are  critical  of  others  in  order  to  iind 
something  to  blame,  instead  of  being  critical  of 
themselves  in  order  to  become  fitted  to  help  them, 
will  but  bring  upon  themselves  from  God  as  well 


914 


JUDGMENT 


JUDGMENT 


as  from  men  the  condemnation  they  are  so  ready  to 
mete  out  to  others  (see  also  Lk  6"). 

(6)  Judging  according  to  false  or  inadequate 
principles  or  standards.  In  Jn  7^-  **,  cf.  o^,  our 
Lord  condemns  yHf/(7(«<7  "pon  superficial  prhu-iplca 
— mere  literal  conformity  to  outward  rules.  Had 
the  Jews  seen  the  deeper  intent  of  the  Sabbath 
law,  they  would  not  have  condemned  Him  for 
apparently  breaking  it  by  healing  a  man  on  that 
day.  It  was  this  superficial  standard  of  judging — 
on  literal  and  mere  legal  grounds  rather  than 
upon  the  deeper  underlying  principles— which  con- 
stituted judCTig  after  the  flesh  rather  than  after 
the  spu-it.  It  IS  only  the  judging  after  the  spirit 
that  IS  righteous  and  to  be  commended  (Jn  8'^). 
It  is  for  this  reason  that  the  natural  (V-ux'koj)  man 
receiveth  not  the  things  of  the  Spiiit,  but  he 
that  is  spiritual  (Tri/ti'^OTiKJs)  judgeth  (avaKplvei)  all 
things  (1  Co  2").  The  one  has  in  his  nature  only 
that  to  which  the  mere  outward  and  superficial 
appeals — the  other  has  in  him  that  in  which  the 
deepest  inner  principles  of  life  and  action  find  a 
response.  Tlie  latter,  through  this  sensitive  re- 
sponse of  his  nature  to  the  deepest  truths,  can  give 
strict  judgment  as  to  their  character. 

LlTER.iTt-RE.— Dale,  Lairs  of  Christ,  p.  93,  Week  Daii  Sirmons, 
p.  32 ;  Dykes,  Manifesto  of  the  King,  p.  621 ;  Mozley,  Tniii. 
Senno}is,'p.  72  ;  Wendt,  Teaching  of  Jesus,  i.  274. 

C.  GOODSPKED. 

JUDGMENT.— Tlie  Syno|)tic  Gospels  differ  from 
the  Gospel  of  John  in  their  view  of  a  judgment. 
The  former  set  forth  a  multitude  of  external  tests 
which  furnish  ground  for  continuous  judgment  in 
this  life.  The  'deeds'  or 'works 'of  a  man  are 
a  measure  of  his  attitude  toward  Jesus  Christ. 
The  Gospel  of  John  is  more  especially  concerned 
with  the  inner  and  hidden  judgment  which  is 
being  pronounced  continually  in  man's  soul.  The 
sensuous  and  external  aspects  are  little  empha- 
sized. All  the  Gospels  hint  unmistakably  at  a 
final  crisis  or  judgment. 

Mt.  is  pre-eminently  the  Gospel  of  judgment,  for,  throughout, 
Jesus  appears  as  the  Judge  of  men,  and  is  always  discriminating 
and  separating  the  good  from  the  t)ad,  the  sheep  from  the  goats, 
the  wheat  from  the  tares,  the  grain  from  the  chaff,  the  sincere 
man  from  the  hypocrite  (13»9  2533  131:0^30  312  55.  6).  The  pre- 
dominainL-  ot  thi's  spc.ial  aspect  of  Jesus'  teaching,  selected  from 
anioTu    '  •   raiices.  in  this  Gospel,  may  arise  from 

Mai''  l-jiosition  to  consider  Israel  as  a  peopl 

sepal  '      itile  world.      Almost   every  utterance 

cam  Miiiistakable  voice  of  judgment  v 

8ep:n  I  liaises.    The  judgment  which  eventuates 

in  blessediie^^,  as  in  the  Beatitudes  (lit  53-i»),  or  as  'Come, 
blessed  ot  my  Father'  ('25**),  is  as  notable  .is  that  which  leads 
separation  from  Christ  and  to  eternal  wTetchedness  (25^*5). 

1.  Jesus  is  the  Judffe.—T\\is  is  the  \'iew  of  all 
the  Gospels.  The  Father  gives  all  judgment  to 
tlie  Son  (Jn  5^-").  Jesus  came  into  the  world  for 
judgment  (9^).  He  separates  men  under  moral 
tests  (Mt  '25^'"*,  cf.  7^).  He  pronounces  judgment 
on  the  Pharisees  (22«-'«).  He  judges  Satan  (16=^). 
He  imparts  the  authority  for  judgment  to  men 
(16").  (Cf.  Ac  10^,  Ro  14'»,  2  Co  5'",  2  Ti  4^.  His 
inflLrnifnt-^pnt  i-^  at  the  same  time  the  throne  of 
Hi>  L'l'Mv  iMt  -J.')-'!.  a<  it  iiKirks  tlie  culmination  of 
thewi'ik  \'.liirli  Hi-  Ii:i~  iiifiliatc.l  in  creation  and 
in  ird. nil. i  loll.  rht_.  juilmiient  will  be  glorious, 
because  tlieu  will  be  the  final  enthronement  of  holi- 
ness among  men,  and  the  deposition  of  evil.  It  is 
to  be  noted  that  He  associates  with  Himself  the 
twelve  disciples  (like  the  Roman  assessors  of  judg- 
ment) who  are  to  judge  the  twelve  tribes  of  Israel 
(Mt  19=8,  Lk  22»' ;  cf.  1  Co  6"-  »).  This  exhibits  the 
vital  union  of  righteous  souls  with  Christ,  for  the 
new  life  which  His  di-sciples  obtain  through  Him 
would  dispose  them  to  pronounce  judgment  upon 
the  same  principles  of  justice  as  does  their  Lord. 
It  is  fitting  that  He  who  has  mediated  creation, 
maintenance,  and  redemption,  should  pronounce 
judgment  upon  man  with  regard  to  his  attitude 


and  responsibility  toward  each  of  these  sovereign 
acts  and  relations.  All  judgment  is  determined 
by  the  attitude  which  men  hold  towards  Christ. 
He  is  set  forth  as  a  perpetual  challen<re  to  men  to 
live  a  right  thinking  and  right  acting  life. 

2.  Tht  Judgment. — Jesus  in  the  Gospels  presents 
an  almost  numberless  series  of  tests  by  which  men 
may  judge  themselves  in  this  present  age.  Their 
'  works '  or  '  deeds'  are  reviewed  (Mt  16"  25'' ;  cf. 
Ro  2*,  Rev  20"^).  Every  kindness  to  a  disciple 
will  be  rewarded  (Mk  9",  Mt  10*=).  Every  cause 
of  stumbling  to  one  of  these  little  ones  (Lk  17") 
will  be  punished.  Jesus  presents  Himself  as  the 
supreme  and  personal  test.  What  is  man's  atti- 
tude towards  Him  as  proved  by  '  his  deeds  and 
works'?  This  kind  of  judgment  is  contiguous 
and  cumulative  here,  and  comes  to  a  conclusion  at 
the  final  crisis  or  judgment.  These  are  some  of 
the  tests : 

FoUowing  Him  (Mt  418-2!!  io38 19s,  Mk  &*) ;  confessing  Him  (Mt 
1032,  Lk  128);  failure  to  appreciate  His  presence  and  work 
(Mt  11=1);  failure  to  come  to  Him  (Jn  5«);  failure  to  believe 
Him  (Jn  318) ;  failure  to  obev  Him  (Jn  336) ;  failure  to  honour 
Him  (Jn  523) ;  failure  to  stand  with  Him  (Mt  1230) ;  failure  of 
right  fruitage  (Mt  2131-J2  716,  Lk  6«) ;  failure  in  outward  con- 
duct (Mt  2211-13);  failure  to  help  men  (Mt  2531-J6);  failure  to 
repent  (Jn  5-")) ;  failure  to  use  the  gifts  of  God  (Mt  251'<-3«) ; 
making  light  of  His  personal  invitations  (Mt  221-7)  ;  unwillingness 
to  hear  His  words  (Mt  12'"  ->-) ;  unwillingness  to  forgive  an 
injury  (Mtljis  lS'-S-30)',  being  ashamed  of  Him  (Mk  S38) ;  breaking 
a  commandment  (Mt  .'i'^)  ;  the  spirit  of  our  judgment  on  others 
(Mt  T-) :  faith  or  lack  of  it  (Mt  81"  5122  09  i52s_  51k  534) ;  heart 
unreceptive  to  His  words  (Mt  10"  15) ;  hypocrisy  (Mt  2313-36); 
idle  words  (Mt  12:«) ;  lip  senice  without  the  heart  (Mt  15') ; 
selfish  conceit  (Mt  62) ;  wicked  pride  (Mk  1238) ;  love  of  dark- 
ness (Jn  319);  rejection  of  His  disciples  (LklOlO);  adultery  (Mt 
19»);  commercialism  in  worship  (Mt  2113);  blasphemy  against 
the  Spirit  (Mt  1231-32) ;  loring  others  more  than  God  (Mt  1037) ; 
hearing,  seeing  the  Son,  with  beUef  or  with  failure  to  believe 
(Mt  72^1323,  Jn  52i  e-xi);  the  cup  of  cold  water  given  to  a  disciple 
(Mt  1012)  ;  mercifulness  (Lk  636) ;  love  to  Christ  (Lk  7",  Jn  2116) ; 
love  to  enemies  (Lk  627);  humble-mindedness  .as  a  child  (Mt  IS''); 
fldeUtv  of  serrice  (Mt  201''  24«-5l);  endurance  in  well-doing 
(■2413) :  doing  wUl  of  God  (1250) ;  deeds  in  general  (1627) ;  inward 
thoughts  and  motives  (Mk  7^3,  Lk  522-  23). 

These  are  clear,  varied,  and  concrete  tests  which 
men  may  apply  daily  to  conduct  and  character, 
and  which  bring  them  into  continual  judgment. 
They  cover  almost  every  phase  of  human  life,  both 
inward  and  outward.  The  OTeat  first  and  second 
commandments  in  the  law  wiiich  our  Lord  enunci- 
ated to  the  lawyer  (Mt  22^-39)  are  in  the  nature  of 
a  judgment,  for  men  know  whether  or  not  they 
have  been  kept.  Judgments  are  continuous  in  the 
sphere  of  moral  life,  as  conscience  persistently 
aflirms.  They  are  continuous  in  the  religious  life, 
and  the  principles  upon  which  they  are  based  are 
found  in  these  teachings  and  in  the  character  of 
Jesus.  No  man  can  plead  ignorance  of  the  grounds 
on  which  judgment  is  pronounced  on  him,  becau.se 
these  varied  tests  cover  clearly  and  openly  so  much 
of  his  life.  Jesus  always  holds  Himself  forth  ('I 
am  the  way  and  the  truth  and  the  life,'  Jn  14")  as 
the  supreme  standard  of  life ;  and  the  in^'itation 
to  come  to  Him  leads  to  a  comparison  and  judg- 
ment of  likeness  or  unlikeness.  The  work  of  the 
Holy  Spirit  (whom  Jesus  sends,  Jn  16')  is  to  con- 
vict men  of  sin,  righteousness,  and  judgment  (v.»), 
and  He  accomplishes  this  by  showing  men  their 
unlikeness  to  Christ.  The  character  of  Jesus  is 
thus  continually  a  challenge  to  men,  and  the 
measure  of  the  "judgment  which  they  must  pass  on 
themselves.  In  all  the  Gospels,  judgment  is  deter- 
mined by  the  relation  wliich  a  man  holds  to  Jesus 
Christ.  But  the  Gospels  also  teach  that  this  con- 
tinuous judgment  wiU  culminate  in  a  crisis  or 
Final  Judgment.  The  inadequacy  and  inequalities 
of  punishment  here  seem  to  demand  a  final  adju.st- 
ing  of  the  accounts  of  all  men  on  principles  of 
eternal  equity.  The  parable  of  Dives  and  Lazarus 
(Lk  162"'-2»)  exhibits  this  final  accounting  and  the 
equitable  readjustment  of  their  respective  condi- 
tions.     Lazarus    had   wretchedness.      Di>es    had 


JUST 


JUSTTCK 


911 


luxury.  The  continuous  judgment  in  this  life  did 
not  result  in  the  proper  rewards  and  penalties, 
lience  the  balances  are  struck  after  death.  Final 
judgment  and  penalty  are  then  reached. 

3.  The  time  of  this  Final  Judgment  is  set  forth 
in  the  Synoptics  as  at  'the  end  of  the  world'  (Mt 
13-''').  Some  have  held  that  this  means  at  the  end 
of  each  man's  life,  but  the  more  obvious  meaning 
is  the  end  of  this  time-order  of  race,  life,  and 
things  (of.  He  9=").  The  words  '  the  time '  (Mt  S-"^), 
and  'then'  (16"  25'),  point  to  a  time  which  follows 
the  Lord's  appearing  in  glory  with  His  angels  after 
the  resurrection  from  the  dead.  '  That  day  and 
hour '  (24^),  '  the  resurrection  of  life '  and  '  the 
resurrection  of  judgment'  (Jn  S^),  are  the  anti- 
thetical statements  of  what  takes  place  after  the 
resurrection,  which  to  one  class  of  men  is  entrance 
into  life,  and  to  the  other  entrance  into  judgment 
followed  by  spiritual  death.  The  Gospels  do  not 
give  information  as  to  whether  or  not  the  Final 
Judgment  follows  immediately  on  the  general  res- 
urrection. The  weight  of  impression  is  that 
judgment  does  follow  immediately,  but  it  would 
be  by  no  means  an  entirp  misinterpretation  of  the 
sayings  of  Jesus  if  (iiii>  lidd  tli:il  there  was  a  con- 
siderable period  of  intci  vciiiiiu  linir. 

i.  All  mmikiiid  ,n„l  nil  ,nl  ..pirits  are  to  be 
judged.— 'AW  nations'  (,Mt,  :>5'-)  and  all  men  (12=«, 
Jn  5^)  shall  be  judged  (cf.  Ro  W,  2  Co  5'",  Rev. 
20'=-*'5).  It  is  implied  in  Mt  8**  that  evil  spirits  also 
are  to  stand  in  the  judgment.  But  it  is  clear  that 
the  holy  angels  do  not  come  into  judgment,  for  they 
accompany  and  serve  the  holy  Judge  (Mt  16="  &^). 
Judgment  would  not  be  necessary  for  men  if  it 
were  not  for  their  .sin.  Wherever  there  has  been 
need  of  a  redemption,  there  will  be  need  of  a  Final 
Judgment. 

5.  Some  charactcristirs. — Jesus  Christ  the  Judge 
in  His  glory  (Mt  16"  19=^,  Mk  8™,  Lk  9*)  [the 
glory  of  Jesus  will  be  as  manifest  in  His  judgments 
as  in  His  forgivenes.s] ;  '  the  throne  of  liis  nlory ' 
(Mt  2531);  tiie  surrounding  holy  angels  as  His 
servitors  (of.  Mt  13*') ;  mankind  gathered  before 
Him ;  evil  spirits  awaiting  their  final  doom  ;  the 
sharp  separations ;  the  openness  of  the  facts  upon 
which  judgment  proceeds ;  the  uncovered  moral 
life  of  every  man  ;  the  irrevocableness  of  the  deci- 
sion (Mt  25**), — all  these,  together  with  the  mani- 
festly diverse  feelings  of  the  righteous  and  the 
wicked,  present  a  scene  of  surpassing  grandeur, 
extent,  and  interest.  Judgment  stands  in  the 
Gospels  as  the  natural  terminus  of  an  a;on  in  the 
life  of  the  race  which  began  with  Creation,  was 
continued  under  a  purpose  and  revelation  of  Re- 
demption, and  demands  a  Judgment  .as  its  proper 
culmination.  Nathan  E.  Wood. 

JUST  and  '  righteous'  in  AV  represent  the  same 
word,  iiVoios,  which,  however,  has  usually  the 
wider  meaning  of  'righteous,  observiiin  Divine  and 
human  laws,  one  who  is  such  as  lie  (ni,i;Iit  to  be, 
prop,  the  Heb.  pns'  (Grimm-Thayer),  and  com- 
prehends duty  both  to  God  and  to  man.  The  Viilg. 
had  no  word  available  except /hs^?^,  which  strictly 
means  '  what  is  according  to  j'us,  the  rights  of  man,' 
hence  '  just '  in  many  i>laces  in  AV.  In  the  Gospels 
it  is  used  of  Joseph  (Mt  1"),  Simeon  (Lk  2^),  John 
the  Baptist  (Mk  6-"),  Joseph  of  Arimatha?a  (Lk 
23™),  and  Christ  (Mt  'i?'"-  -').  In  Ac  3"  7'=  iS"  (cf. 
1  P  3'*,  and  possibly  Ja  S^)  'the  Just  One'  is  a 
Messianic  name  corresponding  to  the  prophecies  of 
the  Righteous  Sen'ant  of  Jehovah  ( Is  53'' ;  cf . 
IP'-,  Jer23') ;  its  use  '  affords  in  itself  a  marvellous 
proof  of  the  impression  maile  by  the  human  life  of 
Jesus  upon  those  who  knew  Ilim  best,  or  who,  at 
all  events,  like  St.  Stephen,  had  ample  opportu 


teous,   exoep- 


every  case 


)i  learning    [Ji.rpos.  Lir.  1  cs-t. 
ase  RV  uniformly  gives  '  righ 


tions  being  Mt  5*  ('rain  on  the  just  and  the  un- 
just'), Lk  1"  ('wisdom  of  the  just')  14'''  ('resurrec- 
tion of  the  just ').  In  Lk  2^  '  just '  might  perhaps 
have  been  retained  with  advantage  to  bring  out 
the  difierence  in  the  same  verse  between  Sfraios 
and  evXa/S^s,  which  latter  means  '  reverencing  God, 
devout'  ('  Sli:ai.os,  j^cstus,  in  officiis  ;  evXa^rii,  Vulg. 
timoratus,  in  habitu  anima;  erga  Deum ' — Bengel). 

For  full  discussion  of  Skaios  see  art.  Rightkous. 
W.  H.  DUNDAS. 

JOSTICE.- 

In  the  AVof  NT  the  word  'justice'  does  not  occur,  iixitierinr. 
being  always  translated  '  righteousness."  For  the  adj.  J;»«i«  we 
lia\e  'just'  and  'righteous'  used  interchangeably.  God  \skuit 
(1  Jn  V»,  Rev  I.',:'),  rV./Atefii/s(Jn  17=^,  2  Ti  4') ;  Christ  is  the  Jmt 
One  (Ac  »*  rs^l,  and  nnhteoris  (1  Jn  2^).  Wen,  both  as  indi- 
\iduals  and  collectively,  are  jtist  or  riqlitenxix  (51t  l"  b*^  lO" 


13-13, 


:  1022  ; 


and  i 


i'£f/t(co«5  judgment.     In  Vu\  41  to  hix 

for  work  done.  This  haphazard  rendering  of  hiy-ocio;  is  i>aVtialIy 
rectified  in  the  RV.  In  classical  Greek  the  noun  and  the  adj. 
are  sometimes  used  in  the  wider  sense  of  moral  rectitude  in 
general ;  but  under  the  influence  of  the  Platonic  and  Aristo- 
telian philosophy  its  later  usage  inclines  to  the  narrower  sense 
of  political  and  social  justice.  Aristotle  (Xic.  Eth.  v.  1.  16) 
qualifies  the  general  idea  by  making  it  refer  to  what  is  due  to 
one's  neighbour  ;  and  Plato  (Republic,  Bks.  i.  ii.  iv.)  deals  with 
hixMteirtivn  at  great  length  but  almost  exclusively  in  the  sense  of 
political  and  individual  justice,  though  he  does  attempt  to  give 
the  idea  a  wider  scope  by  connecting  it  with  that  of  the  Absolute 
Good.  In  Biblical  Greek,  both  in  the  LXX  and  the  NT,  the 
wider  meaning  is  restored,  and  is  the  common  one.  In  Lk  16 
Zacharias  and  Elisabeth  are  said  to  be  iixenoi ;  and  this  is  ex- 
plained, if  not  defined,  by  the  words  Tcosi^outvei  iv  -rutrmf  retn 
ivroKec'i;  xctt  hxixiuf^jxiri  tou  Kupiov  kt^if/.Ttot.  This  is  the  general 
idea  of  righteousness  ;  but  our  word  *  justice '  must  be  taken  as 
signifying  the  recognition  and  fulfilment  of  what  is  due  from 
one  to  another,  righteous  dealing  between  pei-sons,  each 
to  others  what  is  their  right  and  due.    See  also  art. 


God 


Righteous. 

1.  The  justice  of  God.— The  justice  < 
aspect  of  His  righteousness,  and  belongs,  theyrfore, 
to  His  essential  nature.  It  may  be  shown^to  have 
significance  for  the  Divine  life,  even  apart  from 
His  relation  to  others.  God's  attributes  are  not 
all  of  co-ordinate  worth.  His  omnipotence,  -e.g., 
is  subordinate  to  His  ethical  attributes ;  it  does 
not  use  them  as  a  means  to  accomplish  its  ends, 
but  they  use  it.  Omnipotence  is  not  a  power  to 
do  what  it  wUls,  but  to  do  what  God  wills  ;  and  as 
His  will  is  holy,  it  can  be  only  ethically  deter- 
mined. If  in  God's  nature  mere  power  were 
supreme,  and  holiness  and  love  subordinate,  this 
would  be  as  contrary  to  justice  as  when,  in  a 
kingdom,  the  rule  of  right  has  been  overturned  by 
irresponsible  violence.  As  in  the  State,  justice  is 
the  controlling  principle  which  preserves  the  body 
politic  for  the  discharge  of  its  several  functions, 
so,  in  the  Divine  justice,  we  have  tlie  regulative 
principle  of  order  in  the  Divine  nature  and  life. 

(1)  Ood's  justice  in  His  relations  with  m.en. — He 
shows  favour  to  the  righteous.  He  could  not 
withhold  His  approval  (if  that  in  tliem  which  is 
the  object  of  complacency  and  delight  in  Himself. 
This  does  not  mean  that  they  have  a  claim  on 
God  for  a  happy  earthly  lot,  and  exemption  from 
earthly  troubles.  This  doctrine  of  recompense 
was  the  prevalent  one  during  the  early  and  non- 
reflective  stage  of  Israel's  religious  progress ;  but 
it  did  not  bear  the  strain  put  on  it  by  the  national 
calamities.  In  the  teaching  of  Christ  it  is  re- 
pudiated :  Mt  5«  13=8-  -jn^  Lk  16==  18'-»,  Jn  9^- » ;  and 
in  Ro  8'8-3'  and  He  12"  an  explanation  of  the  suf- 
ferings of  the  righteous  is  given  which  goes  far  to 
their   seeming  variance  with  the  justice 


of  God.     They  are  part  of  His  fatherly  discipline 

'lildren   are   prepared    fo       '    ' 
heavenly  inheritance  (2  Co  4'*^ ",  He  5*).      Eve 


by   which   His    children   are 


for   their 


here  they  liave  their  great  reward  in  the  favour 
and  friendship  of  God  (Mt  S'""'',  1  P  2'»-  =»  S'^-'"). 

(2)  God's  justice  in  relation  to  sin. — God  is  just, 
and  will  therefore  punish  sin.  This  is  one  of  the 
Christian   certainties   (Gal  6').      Difi'erent  views. 


916 


JUSTICE 


JUSTICE 


however,  have  been  held  as  to  the  nature  of  the 
punishment  and  its  object.  Some  think  (and  this 
is  Ritsclil's  opinion)  that  the  true  punishment  of 
sin  consists  m  the  sense  of  guilt  and  alienation 
from  God  which  a  persuasion  of  the  Divine  dis- 
pleasure awakens  ;  and  that  the  outward  evils 
which  are  regarded  as  punishments  are  really  due 
to  natural  causes  that  liave  no  relation  to  human 
guilt  (Ritschl,  Justification  and  Reconciliation, 
47  ff. ,  257  ft'. ).  Now,  the  sense  of  God's  displeasure 
must  always  be  a  most  important  part  of  punish- 
ment, and  might  almost  stand  for  tne  whole  of  it, 
if  we  could  suppose  the  sinner  as  responsive  to  it 
as  he  ought  to  be,  as,  e.g.,  a  saint  made  perfect  in 
holiness  would  be.  To  such  a  saint  the  sense  of 
alienation  from  God  would  be  harder  to  bear  than 
the  most  untoward  outward  calamity.  But  sin 
increasingly  blunts  the  sinner's  susceptibility  to 
suffering  from  this  source ;  and  if  no  effective 
provision  has  been  made  to  bring  God's  displeasure 
home  to  him,  he  would  at  last  work  out  his  term 
of  punishment.  There  may  be  no  link  of  causa- 
tion between  oui-  sin  and  most  of  the  outward 
evils  of  life.  Maet«rlinck  may  be  right  in  saying 
that  nature  knows  nothing  of  justice  ;  but  in  that 
case  we  should  have  to  believe  with  him  that 
neither  can  nature  be  regarded  as  the  creation  of 
a  Being  in  whom  ethical  attributes  are  supreme 
(Maeterlinck,  Buried  Temple,  Essay  on  the  '  Mys- 
tery of  Justice '). 

God's  justice  in  relation  to  sin  is  at  once  retrib- 
utive, educative,  and  protective.  It  is  retributive 
because  it  punishes  sin  simply  as  sin ;  it  is  edu- 
cative or  reformatory  because  the  punishment  is 
also  intended  for  the  moral  improvement  of  the 
transgressor;  it  is  protective  because  by  the  pun- 
islmient  others  are  restrained  fiom  wTong-doing, 
and  are  themselves  guarded  against  the  evils  which 
would  result  from  the  prevalence  of  unpunished 
sin.  That  the  Scripture  view  of  God's  justice 
implies  retribution  may  be  shown  from  many 
passages  :  Mt  16-''  24.  25,  Lk  12«-*,  Ro  2«-  >«  6^,  2  Co 
5'^  Col  3=»,  2  Th  P,  He  2=  10-''.  One  could  scarcely 
gather  from  these  passages  that  God's  sole  aim  in 
punishment  is  the  reformation  of  the  offender. 
Yet  this  is  the  popular  view  with  many  modern 
theologians.  As  a  protest  against  the  once  preva- 
lent opinion  that  God,  in  punishing,  desires  merely 
to  exact  vengeance  without  any  regard  to  the 
sinner's  repentance,  it  has  its  justification.  But, 
like  other  reactionary  views,  it  carries  us  too  far 
in  the  opposite  direction.  The  whole  drift  of 
Biblical  teaching  is  that  God  punishes  sinners  be- 
cause they  deserve  it.  Punishment  is  the  reaction 
of  His  holy  nature  against  wTong-doing,  and  with- 
out it  the  moral  order  of  the  world  could  not  be 
maintained.  If  sin  did  not  arouse  His  displeasure. 
He  would  not  be  holy  ;  and  if  He  did  not  manifest 
His  displeasure  objectively  by  punishment,  men 
could  not  know  that  He  is  holy.  But  it  is  said  that 
God  is  love,  and  that  what  love  infiicts  is  chastise- 
ment, not  punishment  in  the  retributive  sense. 
Holy  love,  however,  cannot  accomplish  its  end 
unless  the  sinner  is  brought  to  feel  that  he  deserves 
punishment.  How  could  punishment  benefit  him 
if,  while  undergoing  it,  he  Delieved  that  it  had  not 
been  merited  ?  Retribution  does  tend  to  the 
offender's  improvement,  and  this  is  part  of  God's 
purpose  in  it ;  but  its  reformatory  influence  never 
takes  effect  until  the  sinner  acknowledges  its 
justice.  His  improvement  begins  only  when  he 
is  brought  into  this  state  of  mind  and  feeling.  If, 
indeed,  God's  sole  aim  were  refonnation,  it  would 
follow  that,  if  regards  carried  with  them  the  same 
benefits  as  punishments,  as  in  many  ca.ses  they  do, 
then  the  offender  wduld  desiirve  "them,  and  this 
because  of  his  sin.  In  like  manner  it  would  be 
very  difficult  to  persuade  people  that  it  is  right 


that  they  should  be  protected  from  the  spread  of 
violence  by  the  punishment  of  those  to  whom 
punishment  was  not  justly  due. 

God's  justice  is  also  shown  in  the  forgiveness  of 
sins  on  condition  of  repentance.  Repentance  is  a 
sign  that  the  disciplinary  purpose  which  accom- 
])anies  retribution  has  not  missed  its  mark  ;  and  if 
now  God  withheld  forgiveness,  it  would  imply  a 
failure  of  justice.  According  to  1  Jn  1',  '  God  is 
faithful  and  just  (Skaios)  to  forgive.'  Forgiveness 
and  punishment  are  alike  connected  with  the 
justice  of  God.  The  justice  of  forgiveness  further 
appears  from  this,  that  the  man  who  repents  is  a 
different  moral  person  from  the  man  who  had 
sinned.  His  relation  to  his  sin  has  been  reversed  ; 
for  whereas  formerly  his  wiU  was  identified  with 
sin,  it  is  now  identified  with  the  mind  and  will  of 
God  regarding  it.  In  proportion  to  the  depth  and 
sincerity  of  his  repentance,  we  feel  that  he  is  a 
changed  man,  and  should  no  longer  be  treated  as 
if  sin  still  formed  part  of  the  texture  of  his  being. 
He  has  separated  from,  and  now  unsparingly  con- 
demns, his  past  sinful  self  ;  and,  having  thus  come 
over  to  the  side  of  righteousness,  he  is  no  longer  a 
tit  object  of  the  Divine  displeasure.  Theologians, 
who  first  make  logical  distinctions  between  the 
Divine  attributes  and  then  reason  from  these  as  if 
they  were  real  distinctions,  say  that  justice  can- 
not, but  love  alone  can,  forgive  ;  as  if  love  and 
justice  were  two  contending  powers  in  God's 
nature.  In  realitj-,  it  is  holy  love  that  forgives ; 
and  this  means  that  love  and  justice  are  joined 
hand  in  hand  in  forgiveness  as  they  are  in  punish- 
ment. From  a  non-moral  love  gifts  would  come, 
but  they  might  not  be  blessings ;  and  justice 
without  love  never  could  be  perfectly  just,  for 
love  is  part  of  the  tribute  which  justice  demands. 
The  OT  and  NT  writers  never  attempt  to  reconcile 
love  and  justice,  because  they  were  not  conscious 
of  any  contrariety  between  them  (see  Mt  6'--  "• " 

1231.  32  1815-17.  21-35_  l,]^  g"  7*'-*'  13»-  =  15"-3=  IV'  *  IS'"" 

.2261.  62 .  gf  Jn  2115-17,  Xq.  239  319  gsi,  2  P  3',  1  Jn  I'). 
Of  course,  imperfection  clings  to  all  human  re- 
pentance, because  past  sin  disqualifies  even  the 
sincerest  penitent  for  that  godly  sorrow  for  sin 
'  which  worketh  repentance  not  to  be  repented 
of  (2  Co  7'").  Hence  the  need  for  the  work  of 
Christ  and  the  regenerating  influence  of  the  Spirit, 
by  which  imperfect  repentance  is  atoned  for  and 
made  perfect. 

2.  Justice  in  man. — If  man  has  been  created  in 
the  image  of  God,  we  should  expect  to  find  re- 
flected in  him  the  same  supremacy  of  the  ethical 
attributes  as  exists  in  God.  Thus  for  him  also 
justice  or  righteousness  will  be  the  supreme  law  of 
iiis  being,  obligatory,  not  through  any  human  con- 
vention, but  in  virtue  of  man's  Godlikeness.  As 
supreme,  it  will  be  regulative  of  his  whole  life, 
determining  his  use  of  his  freedom,  the  outflow 
of  his  emotions  and  thoughts,  his  activity  in  all 
human  relations.  Justice  A\-ill  regulate  his  life 
Godward,  for  God  has  definite  claims  on  man  for 
devotion  and  service ;  and  a-s  in  Christ  He  has 
made  Himself  known  as  a  Father  and  Saviour,  these 
claims  are,  for  the  Christian,  raised  to  a  higher 
sphere  of  obligation.  These  are  duties  which  man 
owes  to  God,  and,  when  they  are  withheld,  justice 
is  violated.  God  is  robbed  when  that  which  is  His 
due  is  not  rendered  (Mai  3').  Hence  the  just_  or 
righteous  (Sikoios)  man  is  represented  as  walking 
'  in  all  the  commandments  of  the  Lord  blameless 
(Lk  1"),  and  of  these  the  first  and  greatest  is, 
'Thou  shalt  love  the  Lord  with  all  thy  heart' 
(Mt  22^").  Not  until  we  give  (iod  this  whole- 
hearted love  do  we  give  Him  His  due.  We  are 
then  'just  before  God' ;  and  from  1  Jn  3""  4'-'"- =' 
5'  we  learn  that  only  when  man  responds  to 
God's  claim  can  lie   fulfil  the  obligations  of  love 


JUSTICE 


JUSTIFICATION 


917 


and  justice  to  his  fellow-men.  That  man  can  be 
just  or  unjust  in  relation  to  God  api)ears  also  from 
passages  in  which  sin  is  spoken  of  as  a  state  of 
indebtedness — God  being  the  creditor  and  man  the 
debtor  (Mt  S^"  6'-  18=^-=^  Lk  V^-")  ;  and  from  those 
parables  in  which  God  and  man  are  related  as 
Master  and  servant,  or  King  and  subject  (Mt 
201-16  2133-11  2514-30^  Mk  12i->2). 

One  characteristic  of  the  NT  doctrine  of  justice, 
as  compared  with  tlie  views  current  in  the  Jewish 
and  classical  worlds,  is  a  noteworthy  enlarge- 
ment of  its  sphere.  Justice  to  man  as  man  was  a 
subject  of  si^eculation  among  the  Stoics,  but  in  tlie 
popular  morality  its  obligation  was  ignored  and 
even  repudiated.  The  Jew  hated  tlie  Samaritan 
(Lk  9^*)  and  despised  the  Gentile,  witli  whom  he 
would  not  share  his  privileges  (Ac  2P'-3»).  Why 
should  they  show  favour  to  those  whom  God  had 
not  honoured  ?  The  Greek  was  bound  bjr  moral 
ties  to  his  fellow-citizens,  but  between  him  and 
the  barbarians  tliere  was  no  moral  reciprocity  ;  if 
he  was  conscious  of  any  obligation,  it  was  an 
obligation  to  do  them  all  the  injury  he  could. 
Then  again  there  was  the  slave  class,  wlio  Avere 
regarded  as  incapable  of  virtue,  and,  therefore, 
like  the  lower  animals,  outside  the  ethical  sphere. 
Thus  Jew  and  Gentile  alike  acknowledged  no 
moral  relationship  between  themselves  and  the 
vast  majority  of  the  race.  It  was,  therefore,  a 
great  step  iii  advance  when  Christ  proclaimed  a 
universal  Kingdom  of  justice  and  love,  and  taught 
that,  since  God  was  the  Father  of  all,  they  were 
due  to  all  men,  on  the  ground  not  of  citizenship  or 
nationality,  but  of  humanity  and  of  their  common 
relationship  to  God  (Mt  5«-*  28",  Lk  10™-",  Jn  3^<^ 
1232). 

There  was  also  a  subjective  enlargement  of  its 
sphere.  Under  the  influence  of  Pharisaic  teacliing 
and  example,  the  moral  law  had  come  to  be  re- 
garded as  merely  an  external  rule  of  conduct ;  the 
inner  world  of  thought  and  motive  and  feeling 
being  overlooked  or  regarded  as  of  only  secondary 
importance.  All  the  virtues  had  thus  sufl'ered 
deterioration,  and  justice  among  them.  But  in 
the  Sermon  on  the  Mount,  Christ  claimed  this 
neglected  sphere  for  tlie  moral  law.  Its  authority 
was  extended  so  as  to  cover  the  entire  life  of  men, 
for  in  the  spiritual  realm  of  being,  thoughts  and 
feelings  are  accounted  as  deeds,  as  acts  of  the 
moral  self.  And  tliis  was  an  infinite  extension  of 
the  sway  of  justice.  '  Out  of  tlie  heart  proceed 
adulteries,  fornications,  murders,  tht'fts'  (Mk  7"'). 
Sin  is  not  confined  to  outward  acts  ;  it  begins  the 
moment  evil  thoughts  and  desires  arise  in  the 
heart ;  and  a  regime  of  justice  is  necessary  there. 
To  be  angry  with  our  brother  without  cause  is  to 
do  him  wrong  (Mt  5°-) ;  and  the  man  is  accounted 
guilty  who,  while  refraining  from  actual  murder, 
yet  thinks  in  his  heart,  '  I  would,  if  I  dared.'  Our 
neighbour  has  a  claim  on  us,  that  we  should  think 
and  feel  justly  regarding  him  ;  and  wlien  this  is 
withheld,  we  fail  to  give  him  liis  due.  Again,  the 
sin  of  adultery  may  be  begun  and  completed  by 
simply  looking  on  a  woman  to  lust  after  Iter  (Mt 
5-').  Before  the  tribunal  of  the  Kingdom,  the  man 
is  adjudged  to  liave  wronged  the  woman.  The 
Christian  law  of  justice  is  embodied  in  the  Golden 
Rule,  '  All  things  whatsoever  ye  woiild  that  men 
should  do  to  you,  do  ye  even  so  to  them '  (Mt  7'-) ; 
and  also  in  tlie  second  of  the  great  commandments, 
'Thou  shalt  love  thy  neighliour  as  thyself  (Mk 
12^').  According  to  the  Golden  Rule,  we  are  to 
regard  our  fellow-man  as  an  niter  ef/o,  to  put  our- 
selves in  his  place,  and  judge  his  claims  or  needs 
and  our  duties  from  his  point  of  view  (Pli  2''"*). 
Then  the  commandment  tells  us  jjositively  what 


self,'  not  with 


-moral    love,   which    seel 


nothing  higher  than  the  happiness  of  its  objects. 
We  are  to  care  for  him  with  that  holy  love  which 
attaches  itself  to  that  in  him  which  in  ourselves  is 
the  legitimate  object  of  our  self-love, — the  moral 
self  or  soul  which  was  created  in,  and  can  be 
restored  to,  the  image  of  God.  It  is  for  His  moral 
perfections  that  we  love  God ;  and  the  claims  of 
Christian  justice  are  met,  only  when  our  love  for 
others  has  as  its  aim  their  restoration  to  Godlike- 
ness  (Mt  16'-",  Ja  5-",  He  13").  The  Christian  law 
retjuires  us  not  merely  to  refrain  from  doing  our 
neighbour  wrong,  but  to  promote,  even  at  the  cost 
of  self-sacrifice,  his  highest  well-being  as  we  would 
our  own.  For  a  Christian  man  to  say,  '  I  have 
done  my  neighbour  justice,  and  he  has  no  claim 
on  me  for  more,'  is  to  prove  false  to  the  Christian 
ideal ;  for,  in  the  Kingdom  of  righteousness, 
benevolence  is  not  something  that  may  be  with- 
held, but  is  simply  justice  made  perfect. 


Literature.  —  For  meaning  of  hUocioi  and  S/» 
Grimm-Thayer.  Ltx.  ;  Cremer,  Bib.-Th.  Lex. ;  Westcott,  Ep. 
of  Jn.  24  f. ;  Sanday-Headlam,  Rom.  28  ff.  See  also  T.  Aquinas, 
Sum.  i.,  Qii.  XXI.  ii.  2,  Qu.  lviil-ixxxi.  ;  Hodge,  Syst.  Theol. 
vol.  i. ;  the  Dogmatics  of  Martensen  and  Dorncr ;  Ritsehl, 
Justification  and  Reconciliation',  Moberly,  Atonement  and 
Personality,  esp.  i.-iv. ;  Clarke,  Outline  of  Theol. ;  Stevens, 
Chr.  Doct.  of  Salvation ;  the  Christian  Ethics  of  Martensen 
(Social),  Dorner,  Newman  Smyth;  Luthardt,  Hist,  of  Chr. 
Ethics  ;  Wendt,  Teaching  of  Jems.  vol.  i.  ;  C.  Wagner,  Justice  ; 
Seeley,  Ecce  Homo.  In  the  following  works  on  General  Ethics, 
'Justice'  is,  in  the  main,  treated  from   tlie 


point:  Hegel,  Phil,  of  Right;  Bradlev.  Eth. 
Proleg.  to  Ethics,  also  Principles  of  Polil.  ObUg. 
Introd.  to  Social  Phil.;  Seth,  Ethical  Principles;  JIaeterlinck, 


Essay  on  the  'Mystery  of  Justice'  in  his  Buried  Temple  [con- 
tains some  fine  thoughts,  but  Agnostic  in  tone  and  tendency]. 
A.  BiSSET. 

JUSTIFICATION.— 

I.  Biblical  doctrine. 

1.  The  OT  and  Pharisaic  doctrines. 

2.  The  Pauline  doctrine. 
II.  Historical. 

1.  The  Catholic  doctrine. 

2.  The  Protestant  doctrine. 

3.  Modern  theories. 
III.  Constructive  treatment. 

I.  Biblical  doctrine. — 1.  The  OT  and  Phari- 
saic doctrines.  — The  doctrine  of  j  ustification  through 
faith  in  Christ  owes  its  orinin  to  St.  Paul,  and  is  the 
outcome  of  two  factors,  his  Jewish  training  on  the 
one  hand,  and  his  Christian  experience  on  the 
other.  The  idea  of  justification  itself  was  derived 
by  the  Apostle  from  the  Rabbinic  theology,  whose 
doctrine  of  justification  by  the  works  of  the  Law  is 
at  once  the  antithesis  and  the  necessary  back- 
ground of  his  own.  The  Rabbinic  doctrine  again 
rested  upon  an  OT  basis.  We  can  trace  the  de- 
velopment of  the  idea  of  righteousness  before  God 
in  the  prophets,  who  from  the  first  judge  Israel  by 
the  standard  of  the  absolutely  righteous  demands 
of  Jahweh.  In  the  time  of  Jeremiali  and  Ezekiel 
the  idea  is  brought  into  connexion  with  the  indi- 
vidual (Jer  20'2,  Hab  1^-  '^  ^\  Ezk  3-"-  =•  \»^- 
33""').  Further,  this  age  being  also  that  of  the 
development  of  the  Law,  whose  authors  aimed  at 
embodying  the  demands  of  Jahweh  in  a  practical 
form,  we  find  the  idea  connected  with  the  fulfil- 
ment either  of  the  Law  as  a  whole  (Dt  6-'),  or  of  a 
single  commandment  contained  in  it  (24i3).  Finally, 
in  the  post-exilic  period  the  idea  receives  a  ^eat 
development.  God  is  characterized  as  the  right- 
eous Judge  (Ps  g'-^SO^  94=  96"' ''  etc.),  whose 
righteousness  results  in  the  punishment  of  sinners 
(p.  6  gi6  116.  6etc.).  The  actual  positive  recognition 
of  the  righteousness  of  the  righteous  is  said  in  Ps 
6212  to  depend  on  the  Divine  grace ;  the  latter 
term,  however,  is  practically  synonymous  with 
righteousness  in  its  beneficent  aspect  (33"  36"'  ' 
48'-'-  "  145").  Sinners  God  can  justify  so  far  as 
they  are  at  bottom  righteous  (Job  33=*).  But  the 
god"less  He  may  not  justify  (Ps  692').  The  general 
idea  is,  further,  that  the  recognition  of  righteous- 


918 


JUSTIFICATION 


JUSTIFICATION 


ness  by  God  is  manifested  by  outward  good  for- 
tune ;  just  as  His  displeasuie  is  shown  by  outward 
calamity  (Is  65"- »,  Mai  4-  =,  Ps  ST'"-  -"  etc.  ;  cf. 
AVellhausen,  IJG^p.  220,  n.  1).  In  the  later  post- 
exilic  literature,  however,  the  idea  that  the  right- 
eous is  always  rewarded  and  the  wicked  always 
punished  in  this  life,  is  abandoned,  and  there  ap- 
pears the  conception  that  the  final  justification  or 
condemnation  takes  place  after  death  (Job  19-°-  ^, 
Dn  122-  ^).  Tliis  conception  is  henceforth  pre- 
dominant, as  in  the  Pharisaic  theology,  to  which 
we  now  turn. 

The  Pharisaic  conception  of  the  relation  of  man 
to  God  was  purely  legal,  and  based  upon  the  idea 
of  the  Law  as  a  contract  between  God  and  man. 
The  idea  of  grace  which  qualifies  the  legalism  of 
the  OT  sinks  altogetlier  into  the  background.  The 
Pharisaic  doctrine  implies  that  the  Divine  demands 
expressed  in  the  Law  can  be  satisfied,  and  that  the 
fulfilment  of  tliem  gives  a  claim  to  reward.  It  is 
tlie  recognition  of  tliis  claim  that  is  now  meant 
by  'justiJfication.'  The  conception  is  further  canied 
out  mto  detail  in  that  the  Law  is  regarded  atomi- 
cally  as  the  sum  of  the  commandments  it  contains 
(cf.,  however,  Dt  6^").  Every  act  of  obedience  is 
entered  by  God  in  the  heavenly  books,  as  is  also 
every  act  of  transgression.  The  decision  is  accord- 
ing to  the  preponderance.  If  tlris  is  on  the  side  of 
the  good,  the  Divine  sentence  of  justification  fol- 
lows, which  consists  in  the  declaration  that  the 
man  is  righteous.  The  account  is  finally  made  up 
at  death  (Weber,  Jiid.  TheoL'  1897,  p.  277  ft'.). 

It  wiU  be  apparent  that  the  whole  idea,  both  in 
the  OT  and  still  more  distinctly  in  the  Pliarisaic 
theology,  is  forensic.  With  this,  a^ain,  agrees  the 
derivation  of  the  group  of  teclmical  terms  used  in 
the  OT  in  connexion  with  the  idea  of  justification 
iPlh  •■'iJ'JS  'righteousness,'  pns  'righteous,'  pnsn 
'justify').  This  group  lias  almost  universally  a 
forensic  sense.  The  words  are  so  used  secularly,  and 
are  therefore  naturally  applied  with  tliis  meaning 
in  religion  (Smend,  Alttest.  Bcligionsficschichte-, 
1899,  p.  388  f.).  In  the  LXX  tlie  equivalents  are 
5iKaio(ri5>'7/,,  Skaios,  5iKai6a.  On  the  constant  foren- 
sic use  of  StKaibw  in  the  LXX  (OT  and  Apocr.),  also 
in  the  pseudeirigraphic  books,  see  Sanday-Headlam, 
'Romans'  in  tkternat.  Crit.  Com.  p.  31.  In  Tal- 
uiudic  theology  piy  is  replaced  by  noi  '  innocence,' 
and  p'^fT  by  n'lsi ;  nz\  also  appears  for  p'ls,  but  tlie 
latter  is  maintained  in  use  along  with  it  (Weber, 
p.  277f.). 

It  is  finally  to  be  observed  that,  both  in  the  OT 
and  in  the  Rabbinic  theology,  righteousness  before 
God  and  justification,  whether  looked  for  from  the 
Divine  grace  or  on  the  ground  of  human  merit,  are 
religious  ideas.  Righteousness  is  not  souglit  for  its 
o^vn  sake,  as  a  moralist  might  seek  it,  but  always 
as  the  condition  of  acceptance  with  God,  and  the 
blessings  which  flow  from  this,  in  this  world  or  tlie 
next.  It  is  at  this  point  tliat  the  Pauline  concep- 
tion of  justification  by  faith  links  itself  on  to  the 
older  theologies.  What  St.  Paul  has  in  view  is 
always  the  question  of  acceptance  with  God,  and 
his  doctrine  is  the  answer  of  his  Christian  experi- 
ence to  a  problem  set  in  the  terms  of  tlie  Pharisaic 
theolo^. 

2.  The  Pauline  doctrine. — There  is  no  doubt  that 
St.  Paul's  idea  of  justification  is  essentially  the 
same  as  the  Pharisaic,  and,  like  it,  forensic.  In 
the  fundamental  passage  Ro  S'""-  the  whole  setting 
is  forensic.  Note  the  words  iVa  ttov  <TT6/j.a  <t>pa.yrj, 
VTr6di.K0!  (v.  19);  ipJinov  airou  (v.^).  Mankiiul  is 
arraigned  before  the  judgment-l»r  of  God,  and  the 
justification  which  follows  must  be  forensic.  So  in 
Ro  4^  ju.stification  is  connected  with  imputation,  a 
distinctly  legal  conception :  Xo7ifeTai  = '  is  reckoned,' 
)'.'■.  in  the  heavenly  account-books.  See,  further, 
Sanday-Headlam,  I.e.  p.  30,  who  decide  on  general 


philological  grounds  that  Slkuovv  means  to  pro- 
nounce righteous  :  '  It  has  relation  to  a  verdict 
pronounced  by  a  jud^e.  ...  It  cannot  mean  to  make 
righteous.'  So  far,  tlien,  St.  Paul  is  in  agreement 
with  the  PhiiriMi-.  liiil  (he  deeper  insight  of  his 
conscience  M  i  1 1  imi  :illo\v  him  to  suppose  that  God 
can  be  satislii  il  wiili  ;i  nure  preponderance  of  per- 
formance over  lr;iiisi;ic>^ion.  For  him  to  attain 
righteousness  by  tlie  works  of  the  Law  would 
involve  the  complete  fulfilment  of  it.  But  this  is 
impossible  ;  for  all  are  sinners  (Ro  3**).  Hence  St. 
Paul  concludes  that  '  by  the  works  of  the  law  shall 
no  flesh  be  justified  in  God's  sight '  (3f"). 

Here  is  the  point  where  St.  Paul  introduces  his 
doctrine,  based  on  his  own  personal  experience,  of 
a  new  method  of  justification  (3-"f-),  of  which  the 
principle  on  Gotl's  side  is  grace  (xapis),  i.e.  the 
free  unmerited  love  of  God  (3"),  and  on  man's  side 
faith  (1"  4'').  As  proceeding  from  the  Divine  grace, 
justification  by  faith  is  totally  o])]iosed  to  justifica- 
tion by  works,  which  depends  nii  merit  (1"*).  Instead 
of  attaining  a  righteousness  \>\  In-  omu  etlorts,  the 
believer  submis-sively  receives  a  i  iL^liteiiUMicss  which 
is  wholly  of  God,  and  His  gilt  lO'^  M\  I'h  S'^).  This 
casts  light  upon  the  Pauline  conception  of  faith. 
It  is  the  method  by  which  the  grace  of  God  is  sub- 
jectively appropriated.  In  so  far  as  the  believer, 
instead  of  acting  on  his  o^vn  initiative,  allows  him- 
self to  be  determined  by  God  (Ro  10'),  faith  is  a 
sijecies  of  obedience ;  thus  St.  Paul  speaks  of  the 
obedience  of  faith  (P).  But  as  correlative  to  grace, 
or  the  free  love  of  God,  faith  is  psychologically 
trust,  a  believing  '  on  God '  (4^). 

The  revelation  of  the  Divine  grace  which  awakens 
faith  takes  place,  according  to  St.  Paul,  in  the 
Person  of  Christ  (2  Co  5")  and  in  His  work,  more 
especially  in  His  death,  but  also  in  His  resurrec- 
tion. Christ's  death  was  the  work  of  the  Divine 
grace  in  that  God  ordained  it  as  an  expiatory 
sacrifice  for  sin,  Christ  dying  instead  of  sinners, 
that  in  the  act  of  justification  He  might  not  appear 
indulgent  of  sin  (Ro  3=^;  cf.  2  Co  5"->,  Ro  5«). 
Christ's  resurrection  is  also  included  in  the  revela- 
tion by  which  God's  grace  to  sinners  is  made  known 
(Ro  4''»  8**  109,  1  Co  15"),  but  St.  Paul  does  not 
define  its  exact  place  in  it.  In  fact,  Christ's  resur- 
rection, as  the  object  of  faith,  is  hardly  separable 
from  the  Risen  Christ.  It  is  God's  act  by  which 
He  presents  Christ  alive,  in  spite  of  His  death  (Ro 
4=''  10^),  as  the  object  of  faith. 

It  is  to  be  observed,  finally,  that  justification 
requires  for  its  complete  explanation  both  sides  of 
the  correlation,  grace  and  faith,  which  in  St.  Paul's 
mind  are  associated  in  the  closest  possible  manner. 
Thus  he  speaks  of  the  revelation  of  the  righteous- 
ness of  God  through  faith  (1"  Z^) :  the  whole  is 
really  one  idea.  Only  thus  can  we  explain  the 
remarkable  interchange  of  language  which  the 
Apostle  uses  with  respect  to  the  two  sides  of  the 
correlation.  Justification  is  generally  associated 
more  closely  with  faith,  or  the  subjective  side 
(3=«  51).  But  in  2  Co  S^"  St.  Paul  says  that  God  was 
in  Christ,  not  imputing  to  men  their  trespasses, 
\\hich  last  phrase  is  synonymous  \vith  '  justifying 
men';  so  that  here  justification  is  associated  with 
the  objective  side,  or  the  revelation  of  grace  (cf.  Ro 
S-').  So  also  in  Ro  5'",  if  6iralw/io  be  rightly  trans- 
lated '.sentence  of  justification '  (.so  Sanday-Head- 
lam, I.e.  p.  141),  then  St.  Paul  here  remeseiits  this 
sentence  as  falling  once  for  all  at  the  death  of 
Christ.  On  the  other  hand,  the  sacrifice  of  Jesus 
Christ  belongs  to  the  objective  side  of  the  correla- 
tion ;  yet  St.  Paul  speaks  of  Christ  in  Ro  3==  as 
propitiatory  through  faith  in  His  blood.  Evidently, 
then,  gi-ace  and  faith  are  so  organically  related 
that  the  one  implies  the  other,  and  is  properly 
understood  only  through  its  correlative. 

We  must  now  return  to  the  form  in  which  St. 


JUSTIFICATION 


JUSTIFICATION 


Paul  has  expressed  his  doctrine  of  justification.  It 
is,  as  we  liave  seen,  determined  by  his  Pharisaic 
training,  and  is  that  of  a  forensic  judgment.  But 
the  form  is  all  that  the  Apostle  has  in  common 
with  the  Pharisaic  idea.  The  judgment  of  justifi- 
cation in  his  conception  is  extra-judicial,  i.e.  God 
has  regard  in  it  to  considerations  outside  the  Law. 
The  righteousness  of  faith  is  '  apart  from  law '  (x^P's 
vbiiov,  Ro  3^').  The  Law  as  sucli  takes  account 
only  of  merit,  as  St.  Paul  himself  testifies :  '  He 
that  doeth  them  shall  live  in  them '  (Gal  3'=).  But 
the  Divine  sentence  of  justification  takes  account 
of  faith,  which  is  a  consideration  beyond  the  pur- 
view of  the  Law:  'The  law  is  not  of  faith '(16.). 
In  fact,  in  justification  the  Law  is  transcended  by 
grace,  which  reckons  faith  for  righteousness  (Ro 
4^-  ').  St.  Paul  does  not  mean  that  faith  is  a  work, 
and  that  grace  simply  reckons  the  work  of  faith 
instead  of  the  works  of  the  Law.  This  would  be, 
after  all,  half  legalism.  With  the  Apostle,  as  we 
have  seen,  faith  is  not  a  work,  but  a  receiving  ;  not 
a  second  principle  of  justification  over  against 
gTace,  but  simply  the  reflex  of  Divine  grace  in 
man.  Grace  therefore  sees  in  faith  simply  this 
reflex  of  itself,  and  in  justifying  the  sinner  by- 
faith  in  reality  justifies  on  the  ground  of  itself  (cf. 
Is  43=5). 

What,  then,  is  the  essential  point  in  the  Pauline 
presentation  of  justification  as  forensic  ?  It  is,  to 
use  philosophic  language,  that  justification  is  a 
synthetic,  not  an  analytic  judgment.  It  is  not 
based  on  anything  in  the  believer— not  even  on  his 
faith,  wliich  comes  into  view  only  so  far  as  the 
Divine  grace  is  reflected  in  it.  In  justification 
God  'justifies  the  ungodly'  (Ro  4') :  the  words  are 
evidently  chosen  by  St.  Paul  with  a  clear  sense  of 
the  paradox  involved,  as  the  deliberate  opposition 
of  language  to  the  OT  shows  (cf.  Ex  23',  Dt  25^, 
Pr  17",  Is  5^^).  God  does  not,  in  justification, 
recognize  the  presence  of  any  attribute  in  the 
sinner ;  on  the  contrary.  He  adds  to  him  an  attri- 
bute while  he  is  still  a  sinner,  viz.  that  of  righteous- 
ness. It  is  evident  that  the  paradoxical  character 
of  this  doctrine  created  misunderstanding  even  in 
St.  Paul's  time  (Ro  3* ;  cf.  6') ;  and  it  has  done  so 
ever  since.  The  paradox,  however,  resolves  itself 
at  once  as  soon  as  we  remember  that  it  is  '  right- 
eousness,' not  in  the  ethical,  but  in  the  religious 
sense,  as  the  condition  of  acceptance  with  God, 
which  is  meant.  The  OT  taught  that  righteous- 
ness was  the  condition  of  acceptance  with  God  ; 
the  Pharisees  sharpened  this  into  the  doctrine  that 
the  performance  of  the  Law  was  the  condition. 
St.  Paul's  language  is  determined  by  this  form  in 
which  he  found  the  problem  of  acceptance  with 
God  stated  ;  his  meaning  simply  is  that  God  accepts 
the  sinner  on  the  ground  of  His  mere  grace,  apart 
from  all  question  of  merit.  It  is  consequently 
'  only  another,  though  less  difficult,  expression  for 
the  same  act  of  the  Divine  judgment'  when  St. 
Paul  speaks  of  adoption  (vioBeala,  Gal  4''),  or  the 
reception  of  the  sinner  into  the  position  of  a  child 
of  God  (Holtzmann,  Neutest.  Theol.  ii.  p.  134). 
Adoption  is  also  formally  a  judicial  act,  and 
really  a  synthetic  act  of  the  Divine  judgment. 
The  possible  objection  to  this  identification  of  justi- 
fication and  adoption,  viz.  that  justification  is  the 
act  of  God  as  Judge,  but  adoption  His  act  as 
Father,  falls  to  the  ground  as  soon  as  it  is  remem- 
bered that  justification  is  really  an  extra-judicial 
judgment,  proceeding  from  the  Divine  grace 
(Ritschl,  Justification  and  Reconciliation',  iii.,  Eng. 
tr.  p.  86  ff.). 

Finally,  we  get  still  further  light  on  St.  Paul's 
meaning  as  to  justification  from  the  fact  that  in 
Ro  4'  he  introduces,  as  synonymous  with  the  im- 
putation of  righteousness  or  justification,  the  OT 
idea  of  the  forgiveness  of  sins  (cf.  also  Eph  1'), 


which  links  his  teaching  on  at  once  to  that  of 
Christ  Himself ;  and  it  appears  that  the  Pauline 
onceptions  of  justification  and  adoption  are  simjjly 


the  equivalent  of  the  Fatherly  forgiveness  taught 
by  Jesus  (Kaftan,  Dogmatik^-  *,  p.  523).  The  idea 
that  forgiveness  is  something  merely  negative, 
while  justification  conveys  a  positive  status,  turns 
on  an  inadequate  conception  of  the  Biblical  idea  of 
forgiveness. 

So  far  we  have  considered  justificatidii  ;is  a 
Divine  ojjeration ;  it  now  remains  to  cdii^iilcr  its 
practical  issues,  when  it  takes  effect  in  the  :i(iniis- 
sion  of  the  sinner  to  fellowship  with  God.  Faith 
now  comes  into  view,  not  sim_i)ly  as  the  reflexion 
of  grace,  but  in  its  psychological  nature  as  trust, 
including  the  submission  of  the  will  to  God ;  and 
the  practical  effects  of  justification  appear  as  the 
unfolding  of  this  trust  in  its  various  aspects.  The 
first  of  these  is  the  sense  of  present  peace  with 
God  (Ro  5'),  or  the  consciousness  of  acceptance 
with  Him.  Here  appears  a  strong  contrast  with 
the  Pharisaic  theolo^,  which,  teaching  not  the 
justification  of  the  sinner,  but  only  of  him  who 
has  kept  the  precepts,  defers  justification  till  the 
hour  of  death,  ancl  consequently  demands  in  the 
present  a  condition  of  anxious  fear  lest  in  the  end 
justification  should  not  be  attained  (Weber,  I.e. 
pp.  284,  334  ff.  ;  cf.  Ro  8'=).  Along  with  present 
peace  goes  patience  in  all  present  suflering  (Ro 
5-  "•  5),  in  the  belief  that  it  is  Divinely  ordered  for 
the  best  ends  (8^),  while  there  is  at  the  same  time 
a  consciousness  of  the  Divine  love  (5°  8'*"^').  Here 
appears  a  contrast  to  the  OT  point  of  view,  from 
which  temporal  sufferings  appeared  as  signs  of  the 
Divine  displeasure.  This  contrast  is  strikingly 
brought  out  by  comparing  St.  Paul's  triumphant 
use  of  the  quotation  in  Ro  8^"  with  its  original 
despondent  meaning  in  Ps  44--.  While  St.  Paul 
finds  it  impossible  tliat  persecution  should  separate 
the  believer  from  the  love  of  God,  the  Psalmist  sees 
in  it  a  proof  that  God  has  cast  off  His  people  (cf. 
44').     Finally,  there  is  no  fear  of  final  punish- 


nay 


ment  (Ro  5°),  but  rather  a  joyful  hope 
tainty,  of  ultimate  salvation  (5- '» (P  8»  **• »»)."  The 
sum  of  all  these  things,  in  fact  the  whole  conse- 
quence of  justification,  St.  Paul  expresses  by  saying 
tliat,  for  the  believer,  '  There  is  now  no  condemna- 
tion' (8'),  or  that  he  is  not  under  law,  but  under 
grace  (6'*).  From  this  point  of  view  the  work  of 
C'lirist  appears  as  a  redemption  from  the  curse  of 
the  Law.  Christ,  in  His  death,  bore  its  curse,  and 
its  power  is  therefore  at  an  end  (Gal  3").  St. 
Paul  refers  in  this  passage  to  the  Jewish  Law,  as  the 
antithesis  with  v.'*  shows :  '  Christ  redeemed  us 
[Jews]  from  the  curse  of  the  law  .  .  .  that  upon 
the  Gentiles  might  come  the  blessing  of  Abraham 
in  Christ  Jesus.'  But  his  idea  of  freedom  from  the 
Law  is  not  to  be  limited  to  freedom  from  the  Jewish 
Law.  Though,  historically,  this  special  case  was 
of  the  greatest  importance,  St.  Paul  means  that  the 
Christian  religion  is  a  religion  not  of  law,  but  of 
grace.  He  also  expresses  the  same  idea  in  terras 
of  the  parallel  conception  of  adoption,  by  saying 
that  the  believer  has  received,  in  place  of  the  spirit 
of  bondage,  leading  to  fear,  the  spirit  of  adoption, 
'  whereby  we  cry,  Abba,  Father '  (Ro  8"). 

The  doctrine  of  the  Epistle  of  James  on  justification,  whether 
the  author  has  the  PauHne  doctrine  or  abuses  of  it  in  view  or 
not  [on  the  critical  question  connected  with  the  Epistle  see 
Moffatt,  Historical  ST-,  p.  676,  for  a  good  statement  of  the 
alternatives  ;  also  Sanday-Headlam,  '  Romans,'  p.  104  ;  and  W. 
Patrick,  James  the  Lord's  Brother],  raises  an  important  problem 
in  connexion  with  it.  It  is  to  be  noted,  first,  that  the  idea  of 
faith  in  the  Epistle  is  quite  different  from  St.  Paul's.  When  the 
author  teaches  that  justification  is  not  by  faith  only,  but  by 
works  also,  the  faith  he  has  in  view  is  a  mere  intellectual  assent 
to  Christian  truth,  especially  to  the  doctrine  of  the  Divine  unity 
(Ja  219).  Further,  his  idea  of  works  is  not  that  of  meritorious 
performance  deserving  reward,  but  of  practical  morality.  He 
solves  the  problem  of  justification  in  reality  by  going  back 
behind  the  legalism  of  the  Pharisees,  and  behind  the  Law  alto- 


920 


JUSTIFICATION 


JUSTIFICATION" 


gether,  to  the  position  of  the  OT  prophets,  in  so  far  as  they 
demanded  practical  righteousness  as  the  condition  of  acceptance 
w-ith  God.  His  doctrine  and  St.  Paul's,  therefore,  touch  no- 
where except  in  language ;  in  thought  the.v  are  altogether 
apart.  At  the  same  time,  the  Epistle  of  James  serves  forcibly 
to  raise  the  question,  which  St.  Paul's  doctrine  is  alwaj-s  liable 
to  provoke,  viz.  what  safeguard  it  offers,  while  satisfjing  the 
religious  needs  of  man,  for  his  moral  interests.  Reference  has 
alreadv  been  made  to  the  passage  in  which  St.  Paul  speaks  of 
opposition  to  his  teaching ;  it  was  its  apparent  autinomianism 
that  provoked  this  opposition  (Ro  38,  of.  Ui)- 

We  have  thus  to  return  to  St.  Paul,  and  ask  how  he  met  this 
dilficulty.  He  does  it  by  opening  a  new  line  of  argument,  in 
which  he  presents  a  fresh  view  of  the  death  and  resurrection  of 
Christ,  where  these  acts  appear  in  the  ethical  sense  of  a  death 
to  sin  and  a  resurrection  to  a  new  life  unto  God  (Ro  6iO),  and 
where,  further,  Christ  in  His  death  and  resurrection  appears  as 
inclusive  of  all  for  whom  He  died  (2  Co  51*).  In  correspondence 
with  this  view,  faith  also  takes  on  a  new  significance.  It  is  still 
a  receptirity  and  an  obedience  ;  but  as  that  which  it  receives  is 
different,  it  appears  with 
union  with  Clurist  in  His 
symbol  of  which  is  bapti-^i 
union  St.  Paul  draws  th- 
being  dead  with  Christ 


e,  that  the  believer 
Him  to  God,  should 
.rallel  line  of  argu- 
:is  the  Spirit 


accordingly  (Ro  O-*  '  -  ,  ' 
ment  presents  the  view  mi  :m,,  i; 
S''^),  and  faith  correspondin'4l\-  as  1 
Spirit  (Gal  32,  cf.  Ro  S'").  by  which  the  believ 
into  the  likeness  of  Christ  (2  Co  313).  But  aga  .  .  _  .  . 
of  the  Spirit  demands  a  life  according  to  the  Spirit  (Gal  525, 
^12. 13).  Along  these  lines,  then,  St.  Paul  makes  provision  lor 
Christian  morality.  He  presents,  as  we  see,  his  total  thought 
on  the  salvation  of  the  individual  through  the  work  of  Christ  in 
two  hemispheres— the  former  doctrine  of  justification  and  this 
further  doctrine  which  corresponds  to  the  ecclesiastical  doctrines 
of  regeneration  and  sanctification.  St.  Paul  passes  continually 
from  the  one  hemisphere  to  the  other  in  a  way  that  shows  that 
he  feels  them  to  be  vitally  related ;  and  there  are  not  wanting 
points  of  contact  between  them,  amount  which  we  may  note 
especially  the  fact  that  the  idea  of  faith  is  common  Ui  both 
hemispheres,  as  is  also  that  of  the  Spirit,  who  appears  in  con- 
nexion with  justification  and  adoption  as  diffusing  the  con- 
sciousness of  the  love  of  God  (Ro  55)  and  as  witnessing  to  our 
adoplion  (S'^),  as  well  as  in  connexion  with  regeneration  and 
sanctification  as  the  potency  of  the  new  life.  Further,  there  is 
a  c\iie  of  passages  in  which  there  appears  a  tendency  to  the 
unification  of  the  two  hemispheres  of  thought,  by  making 
justification  conditional  on  regeneration  and  sanctification, 
and  thus  still  future  and  the  object  of  effort  (Ro  S".  Gal  21', 
1  Co  4*  92'  2r,  ph  Sio-U).  See  on  the  whole  subject  Holtzmann, 
ycutext.  TIteol.  ii.  p.  137  ff.  In  the  main,  however,  St.  Paul  keeps 
the  two  hemispheres  apart.  Holtzmann  (p.  137,  n.  1)  quotes 
Pfleiderer,  who,  using  another  figure,  speaks  of  '  the  two  streams 
which  unile  in  PauUnism  in  one  bed,  without,  however,  inwardly 
blending." 

II.  Historical. --l.TAe  Catholic  doctrine.— St. 
Paul's  doctrine  of  justification  remained  after  his 
death  in  practical  abeyance,  until  it  was  revived  at 
the  Reformation.  There  is  little  trace  of  it  in  the 
NT  outside  of  his  own  Epistles  {i.e.  of  the  .specific 
Pauline  form  of  the  doctrine  of  forgiveness).  Only 
uncertain  echoes  of  it  are  found  in  the  post- 
Apostolic  age,  and  under  the  re^me  of  Catholicism, 
both  ancient  and  mediseval,  it  remained  practi- 
cally a  dead  letter.  Common  Catholicism,  in  fact, 
returned  substantially  to  the  Pharisaic  doctrine  of 
salvation  by  merit,  against  which  St.  Paul  had 
fought,  with  its  accompanying  atmosphere  of  fear 
of  comin"  short  at  last.  According  to  Gregory  the 
Great,  who  is  here  typical,  assurance  is  the  mother 
of  indolence,  and  the  fear  of  Divine  judgment  is 
the  only  fit  attitude  for  the  Christian  till  his  last 
day  on  earth  (Hamack,  Dogtnengeschichte',  iii.  p. 
250,  n.  1).  In  sucli  an  atmosphere  the  words  of 
the  Patdine  vocabulary  necessarily  lost  tlieir 
original  meaning,  and  took  on  a  new  significance. 
Faith  came  to  mean,  not  trust,  but  intellectual 
assent  to  revealed  truth  ;  grace,  not  the  unmerited 
love  ot  (;o,|.  liut  the  Holy  Spirit,  as  sacramentally 
coiiiiiiiHiii  ;i!,-,l  Mr  infused  (so  TertuUian  ;  see  Loofs, 
i'l'/"'.  ||  1"4(.  It  was  the  work  of  Au"ustine 
to  creati-  :i  n.\\  rloctrine  of  justification  by  the 
combination  ot  tlit-e  ideas.  First  he  interpreted 
the  word  ■  ju-tilii  ution '  itself  U>  mean  not  'a 
declaring  riuhteoii,.'  l.iu  'a  making  righteous ' ; 
•what  eke  is  Justi/icali  tlian  jiisfi  facfi  ■>  [rh  S/,. 
et  Litt.  26,  45).  Then,  furtli.-r.  ho'coinhinf..!  fl„. 
idea  of  justification  in  thi-  mh-h  with  th.ii  of 
'  infused '  gi-ace.     Augustine  tcai  he,  tliat  it  i>  thi> 


infused  grace  which  justifies  or  makes  righteous  by 
renewintr  the  nature.  He  is  able  thus,  with  St. 
I'aiil,  to  .•..iicoive  righteousness  as  a  gift ;  the  gift, 
ho\\i'\(i,  1,  not  of  forensic,  but  of  inherent  right- 
eon, ne-s.  riiis  idea  of  justification  by  infused 
grace,  it  is  to  be  noted,  lacks  that  immediate  and 
necessary  connexion  with  the  work  of  Christ  which 
lies  at  the  base  of  the  Pauline  doctrine.  Augustine, 
indeed,  regards  the  forgiveness  of  .sins  as  an  effect 
of  grace,  parallel  ^^•ith  the  renewal  of  the  nature  ; 
but  faith  IS  not  brought  into  the  connexion.  The 
idea  of  faith  remains  with  Augustine  simply  the 
common  Catholic  idea  of  assent  to  revealed  truth  ; 
so  that  faith  is  no  more  than  a  presupposition 
of  salvation.  Only  as  it  is  completed  by  hope 
and  love  through  the  infusion  of  grace,  is  it  Chris- 
tian and  sa\-ing  faith  (Seeberg,  Dogmengeschichte, 
i.  276).  It  is  obvious  how  far  Augustine  is  here 
from  St.  Paul,  though  he  constantly  uses  the 
Apostle's  formula  '  justification  by  faith '  (Seeberg, 
p.  277).  The  climax  of  his  departure  from  Pauline 
doctrine,  however,  is  reached  when  the  idea  of 
merit  is  drawn  into  the  scheme.  The  combination 
is  thus  effected.  Grace  alone  renders  merit  pos- 
sible. God  in  His  condescension  accepts  as  meri- 
torious the  works  which  are  really  Hus  own  gifts  : 
'wliat  are  called  our  merits  are  His  gifts'  (de 
Triititate,  xiii.  10,  14). 

In  Western  Catholicism  the  doctrine  of  justifica- 
tion remains  substantially  that  of  Augustine.  The 
Roman  Catholic  doctrine  was  finally  formulated 
in  opposition  to  Protestantism  at  the  Council  of 
Trent.  It  is  necessary  to  refer  to  two  points  only. 
The  first  is  that,  in  the  Middle  Ages,  Duns  Scotus 
taught  a  modification  of  the  Augustinian  doctrine, 
which  makes  still  wder  room  for  the  idea  of  merit. 
He  avails  himself  of  a  distinction  already  found 
in  Thomas  Aquinas  between  merit  of  congruity 
(meritum  de  congruo)  and  condign  merit  (meritiim 
de  condiqno).  The  former  is  based  upon  the  idea 
of  the  fiivine  equity,  to  which  it  is  congruous  to 
reward  every  one  who  works  according  to  his 
power  after  the  excellency  of  the  Divine  power. 
The  latter  is  based  on  the  idea  of  strict  justice, 
which  rewards  according  to  desert  (Seeberg,  l.r. 
ii.  105).  According  to  Duns,  the  first  grace  itself 
can  be  merited  de  congruo  by  attrition,  i.e.  such 
repentance  as  is  possible  without  grace.  The 
second  point  to  be  observed  is  that  the  Council  of 
Trent  draws  a  natural  consequence  from  the 
Augustinian  idea  of  justification,  by  teaching  that 
justification  is  progressive,  and  can  and  ought  to 
receive  continual  increment  (Sess.  VI.  cap.  x.). 

The  great  contrast  between  the  Catholic  doctrine 
and  that  of  St.  Pavd  is  obvious  at  the  first  glance. 
A  second  look,  however,  might  suggest  that  per- 
haps the  contrast  was  not  so  great  after  all.  For 
the  Catholic  doctrine  of  justification  corresponds, 
though  by  no  means  exactly,  to  St.  Paul's  doctrine 
of  regeneration  and  sanctification.  It  mi^ht,  there- 
fore, appear  as  if  the  ditterence  were  really  one  of 
language.  Nevertheless,  in  the  end  the  contrast 
■  i.oated  by  this  seeming  possibility  of 
I  K II -c  hi  has  acutely  ob.ser\'ed (op. 
'  i-iii  stUl  remains  in  opposi- 

if  justification.  What  the 
jii-i  ilh  ation,'  viz.  acceptance  with 
g'tlie  iissurance  of  eternal  life  (Ro 
),  Catholic  doctrine  includes  under 
the  conception  of  hope.  So  Cone.  Trid.  Sess.  y\. 
cap.  xiii.  :  Christians  '  ought  to  fear,  kno-n-ing  that 
they  are  regenerated  unto  the  hope  of  glory,  and 
not  yet  unto  glory.  .  .  .'  No  one,  indeed,  can  be 
absolutely  certain  even  of  present  grace  (cap.  ix.). 
It  is  true  tliat  within  Catholicism  the  practical 
attitude  of  trust  for  s:'.lvation  to  the  DiNnne  mercy 
iloii,-,  a|iait  from  all  merits,  and  the  consequent 
,eii,e  oi  as.,untuce,  are  to  be  found,  as  to  some  extent 


tion  to  S 
Apostle 
God,  inc 
5" 


JUSTIFICATION 


JUSTIFICATION 


in  Augustine  ( Harnaclc,  op.  cit.  iii.  p.  85  f . ),  but  pre- 
eminently in  Bernard  of  Clairvaux.  In  this  attitude 
is  the  true  harbinger  of  the  return  to  St.  Paul  at 
the  Reformation  (Ritsclil,  op.  cit.^  i.  109  fi'.).  But 
we  are  now  concerned  with  the  Catholic  doctrine, 
not  with  an  attitude  maintained  in  spite  of  it. 

2.  Tlie  Protestant  doctrine.— \f\i:h  the  Reforma- 
tion we  have  a  return  to  the  Pauline  idea  of  justifi- 
cation. The  absolutely  fundamental  character  for 
the  Christian  religion  of  the  Pauline  conception  is 
firmly  seized.  As  is  well  known,  Luther  called 
justification  by  faith  '  the  article  of  a  standing  and 
falling  Church.'  The  Protestant  doctrine,  however, 
assumes  a  special  form,  in  antithesis  to  the  interim 
Catholic  development,  and  St.  Paul's  formula  is 
sharpened  into  the  still  more  definite  shape  '  justifi- 
cation by  faith  alone.' 

We  have  to  note,  first  of  all,  a  reversion  to  the 
original  Pauline  ideas  of  grace,  faith,  and  justifica- 
tion. Luther,  indeed,  especially  in  his  earlier 
period,  remained  somewhat  entangled  with  the 
Catholic  conception  of  the  last,  making  the  tenn 
include  botli  a  forensic  and  a  real  justification. 
This,  however,  was  merely  a  matter  of  termino- 
logy, and  has  only  a  historical  significance.  Prac- 
tically Luther  held  the  Pauline  view  :  the  emphasis 
with  him  falls  on  the  forensic  aspect  of  justification. 
Moreover,  the  somewhat  confused  terminology  of 
Luther  was  corrected  by  Melanchthon,  wlio  says 
decidedly  that  justification  with  the  Hebrews  was 
a  forensic  word,  and  ojjiioses  the  idea  of  a  real 
justification  (Loci  Thcologici :  '  De  gratia  et  justifi- 
catione '). 

The  Protestant  theology,  further,  like  St.  Paul, 
found  the  revelation  of  the  DiWne  grace  in  Christ, 
and  His  work  for  sinners.  Here,  however,  a  con- 
siderable development  takes  place,  based  upon  the 
mediajval  development  of  the  doctrine  of  the 
Atonement  due  to  Anselm.  The  latter  had  viewed 
the  death  of  Clirist  in  the  first  place  as  a  satisfac- 
tion to  God's  honour,  which  liberated  Him  from 
the  necessity  of  punishing  sinners,  and  in  the 
second  place  as  a  merit  or  work  of  supererogatory 
obedience,  which  could  be  made  available  for  His 
followers.  The  Protestant  theology  accepted  both 
these  ideas,  but  with  such  modifications  as  made  it 
possible  to  combine  them  with  the  forensic  idea  of 
justification.  The  death  of  Chri.st  was  viewed  not 
as  a  satisfaction  to  God's  honour,  but  to  the  penal 
sanctions  of  His  Law.  To  tliis  was  added  His 
active  obedience  to  the  Law  in  His  life  as  a  satis- 
faction to  its  positive  requirements.  The  whole 
was  summed  up  as  Christ's  active  and  passive 
obedience  or  merit,  and  regarded  as  a  provision  of 
the  Divine  grace  with  a  view  to  the  justification  of 
sinners.  Justification  consists  in  the  gracious  im- 
putation of  this  twofold  merit  or  obedience  to  the 
sinner  on  the  sole  condition  of  faith,  so  that  he 
becomes  not  only  guiltless  before  the  Law,  but  also 
totally  free  from  its  claims.  This  conception  is 
common  to  both  the  Lutheran  and  the  Reformed 
Churches.  It  did  not  grow  up  all  at  once  ;  but  the 
roots  of  it  can  be  traced  in  the  earlier  Reformers, 
and  it  finally  established  itself  firmly  in  both 
Churches.  It  is  completely  stated  in  the  Formula 
of  Concord  (pars  ii.  Solida  Declaratio,  iii.  14,  15). 


The  chani 


Paulin 


doctrine  is  marked 


the 


ness,  into  that  of  the  imputation  of  Christ's  righteousness, 
is  not  merely  one  of  language.  The  conception  of  Christ's 
death  as  a  satisfaction  to  the  penal  sanctions  of  the  Divine  law, 
on  the  ground  of  which  God  forgives  sinners,  may,  indeed,  be 
accepted  as  a  natural  interpretation  of  the  Pauline  conception 
of  Christ's  death  as  an  expiatory  sacrifice  for  sin,  if  this  concep- 
tion is  to  be  translated  into  terms  of  law.  Whether,  however, 
such  translation  is  desirable,  is  questionable  ;  as  we  saw  that  the 
forensic  point  of  view  is  only  formally  and  not  materially  regu- 
lative for  the  Pauline  conception  of  justification.  Thus,  instead 
of  seeking  to  translate  related  conceptions  into  legal  temiino- 

xplanation  (or,  if  need 

uaterLal  element 


in  St.  Paul's  idea  of  justification,  viz.  that  it  is  entirely  the  work 
of  grace,  *  apart  from  law.'  The  Protestant  theology,  in  fact, 
misinterprets  Paul  by  taking  his  legal  phnaseology  as  essential, 
and  seeking  to  systematize  his  whole  view  of  justification  and 
its  presuppositions  under  legal  ideas.  The  attempt  of  the  Pro- 
testant doctors  to  conceive  the  whole  process  of  salvation  m 
legal  forms,  made  them  introduce  into  theology  a  number  of 
axioms  which  are  in  no  way  part  of  the  Christian  view  of  the 
world.  Such  an  axiom  is  that  all  sin  must  be  punished ; 
whereas  the  Christian  religion  t«aches  that  it  can  be  forgiven, 
and  forgiveness  and  punishment  are  mutualh-  exclusive  (cf. 
larke.  C/irisHau  Theology,  p.  330).  Another  axiom  is 
that  the  piuiishiuent  of  sin  may  be  transferred  from  one  person 

another ;  whereas  the  very  essence  of  the  idea  of  punishment 
its  connexion  with  guilt.     'The  vicarious  suffering  of  the 

:iocent  for  the  guilty  is  not  punishment.    A  third  axiom  is 

at  merit  may  similarly  be  transferred  from  one  person  to 
another ;  whereas  the  moral  result  of  a  life,  which  is  what  is 
personal,  and  while  it  maj-  result  in  the  good  of 
others,  cannot  possibly  be  separated  from  the  person  of  its 
author,  and  treated  as  a  conmiercial  asset.  That  the  Protestant 
doctors  had  to  base  their  theology  on  axioms  like  these,  plainly 
shows  that  they  were  on  the  wrong  line  in  attempting  to  trans- 
late the  doctrine  of  salvation  into  legal  terms.  We  may  no 
doubt  recognize  behind  the  forms  of  the  Protestant  theology 
the  intention  to  show  that  the  Divine  grace  itself  is  the  grace  of 
a  Holy  and  a  Righteous  God.  But  the  immediate  identification 
of  the  Divine  Righteousness  with  its  expression  in  law  is  fatal 
to  a  full  and  complete  view  of  grace.  St.  Paul  might  have 
taught  a  better  conception  of  law  as  a  temporary  and  prepara- 
tory manifestation  of  the  Divine  righteousness,  whose  end  is 
fuUilled  in  a  higher  way  by  grace  (Gal  32-'). 

This  defect  in  the  view  of  the  revelation  of  the  Divine  grace 
in  Christ  does  not,  however,  prevent  the  Protestant  theology 
from  being  true  in  the  main  to  the  Pauline  conception  of  justi- 
fication. Over  against  Catholicism,  Protestant  theology  teaches 
justification  by  God's  grace  appropriated  by  faith  alone,  and 
apart  from  all  question  of  human  merit.  Moreover,  in  the  total 
view  the  emphasis,  at  any  rate  with  the  earlier  Reformers,  does 
the  E 


faction. 


the  fact  that  in  Melanchthon's  Loci  Theoio- 
is  no  locus  devoted  to  the  doctrine  of  Christ's  satis- 
;ven  so  late  as  Gerhard  in  the  early  part  of  the  17th 

cent.,  the  doctrine  is  treated  by  him  simply  as  a  part  of  the 

locus  de  justijicatione. 

After  this  critical  excursus  we  return  to  the 
Protestant  theology  itself,  in  order  next  to  de- 
scribe the  positions  by  which  it  further  defined  its 
conception  of  justification  as  over  against  Catho- 
licism. As  regards  what  the  Catholics  call  'justi- 
fication,' but  the  Protestants  'regeneration,'  it  is 
taught  that  the  latter  is  the  necessary  accompani- 
ment and  logical  (the  later  Lutheran  theology  says, 
temporal)  consequence  of  justification.  Its  objec- 
tive principle  is  the  gift  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  its 
subjective  manifestation  the  activity  of  faith  in 
good  works. 

On  some  further  points  the  two  Evangelical 
Churches  diverge  not  only  from  Catholicism,  but 
from  one  another.  The  first  of  these  has  to  do 
with  the  question  of  assurance.  The  Lutherans 
teach  that  the  believer's  consciousness  of  justifica- 
tion is  in  itself  an  immediate  certainty  of  the 
reality  of  justification,  operated  by  the  Holy  Ghost 
ifdes  divina).  Where,  however,  doubt  enters, 
recourse  must  be  had  to  the  Word  and  the  Sacra- 
ments, that  the  Holy  Ghost,  who  works  through 
the  Word,  may  rekindle  faith.  The  Reformed 
theologians  teach  that  the  guarantee  of  the  reality 
of  justification  is  God's  eternal  predestination  to 
salvation,  which  manifests  itself  subjectively  in 
perseverance  in  the  state  of  grace.  Hence  the  assur- 
ance of  justification  cannot  be  gathered  directly 
from  faith  itself,  but  by  a  reference  to  its  evidence 
in  its  fruits  (sylloffismus  i)racticus).  [See  Lipsius, 
Dogmatik  ",  p.  CV.')  f .  ]. 

The  second  difference  between  the  Protestant 
Cliurches  is  that  the  Lutherans  make  the  moment 
of  justification,  alike  in  earth  and  heaven,  the 
moment  when  saving  faith  conies  into  being.  The 
Reformed,  on  the  other  hand,  regard  justification 
as  accomplished  in  tlie  resurrection  of  Christ  for 
the  whole  Church  as  His  mystical  1>ody  (justificatio 
activa),  but  as  regards  iii(ji\  i.lual  believers  based 

on  the  decree  of  jusliliiati which  accompanies 

their  eternal  electidii,  :uul  icilizcil  when  saving 
faith  arises  {juMifiaitio  //iissini).    It  is  to  be  noted 


9-22 


JUSTIFICATION 


JUSTIFICATION^ 


that  tlie  objective  justification,  which  is  accom- 
plished for  Ijelieveis  in  Cliiists  resurrection,  de- 
pends only  upon  their  ideal  incorporation  in  His 
mystical  ix)dy.  The  Refonnccl  dtictrine  does  not 
therefore,  as  has  somftinu'-  l.icii  >:iiil.  make  jus- 
tification dependent  ■mi  k  _.  iH-i:ai-in.  Chnst's 
resurrection  is  regardcil  j-  iIm'  .u  ,  r|ii;inri' nf  His 
satisfaction,  made  for  lulu  \ii-.  aivl  tlni>  a-  ideally 
their  justification  in  Him  (rf.  Lip>ius,  Dnr)iimtik, 
p.  677  f.;  RitschI,  nj,.  r,t.^  i.  293  ii'.). 

Tlie  third  ditlercnie  is  as  to  the  doctrine  of  per- 
severance. The  Lutherans  teach  that  a  man  may 
fall  from  faith,  and  thus  from  grace,  but  that  he 
may  regain  his  position  by  renewed  repentance 
ancl  faith.  On  the  contrary,  the  Reformed  teach 
that  the  members  of  Christ  s  body  cannot  fall,  but 
must  persevere  in  faith  to  the  end.  A  faith  that 
does  not  endure,  is  not  real  faith ;  and  the  con- 
sciousness of  ju.stiiication  it  may  bring  is  only  self- 
deception  (Lipsius,  p.  679). 

Reference  must  now  be  made  to  certain  views 
within  Protestantism  which  deviate  from  the 
orthodox  conception.  The  first  of  these  is  that 
of  Osiander,  who,  attaching  liimself  to  many  ex- 
pressions in  the  teaching  of  Luther,  attempted 
once  more  to  teach  a  real  justification,  and  yet 
avoid  introducing  the  Catholic  conception  of  salva- 
tion by  merit.  In  opposition  to  the  idea  of  justifi- 
cation by  the  mere  external  imputation  of  Christ's 
righteousness,  he  taught  that  the  essential  ground 
of  justification  is  Christ's  righteousness  as  really 
communicated  to  us  ;  though  at  the  same  time  he 
regards  this  indwelling  righteousness  of  Christ  not 
as  our  own,  but  as  an  alien  righteousness,  and  in 
so  far  as  an  imputed  righteousness  (Lipsius,  p.  668). 
Another  Une  of  thought  is  opened  by  the  Socinian 
theology.  A  criticism  of  the  legal  forms  of  the 
ecclesiastical  doctrine  of  reconciliation  leads  to  the 
complete  rejection  of  it.  Socinus,  however,  retains 
a  doctrine  of  justification  by  faith,  regarded  as 
includiu"  not  only  trust  in  God  as  revealed  by 
Clirist,  but  consequent  obedience  to  His  will. 
There  is  no  justification  by  works  without  faith  ; 
but,  on  the  other  hand,  works  are  not  merely  the 
fruit  of  faith,  but  its  execution  and  perfectiun",  and 
in  so  far  the  works  which  follow  faith  justify 
(Socinus,  de  Fide  et  Opcribus,  Bibliotheca  Fratrum 
Polonorum,  1656,  torn.  i.  p.  623).  But  as  works 
done  in  faith  are  not  perfect,  justification  is  also 
.said  to  be  by  faith  in  opposition  to  works,  because 
the  mercy  of  God  imputes  righteousness  to  the 
Ijeliever  (dc  Jcsu  Chnsto  Servatore,  p.  iv,  c.  II). 
In  other  words,  faith  is  here  considered  as  the  prin- 
<-iple  of  active  righteousness,  and  the  doctrine  of 
jiLstification  comes  to  mean  that  God  judges  not 
by  the  outward  work,  but  by  the  inward  disposi- 
tion. This  conclusion  is  distinctly  drawn  by  the 
Rationalism  of  the  German  lUumination  (Lipsius, 
p.  684). 

3<  Modern  theories. — The  most  important  forms 
in  which  the  doctrine  of  justification  has  been 
stated  in  modern  theology,  so  far  as  that  does  not 
simply  repeat  older  points  of  view,  owe  their  origin 
chiefly  to  Kant  and  Sclileiermacher,  particularly 
the  latter.  Kant  took  up  the  subject  where  it  had 
l>een  left  by  the  Illumination,  but  in  view  of  his 
deeper  ethics  stated  it  as  an  ethico-religious  pro- 
blem, viz.  liow  a  man  conscious  of  guilt  could 
obtain  power  to  live  a  new  life.  The  solution  is 
to  be  found  in  the  conception  of  faith  in  the  ideal. 
Un  the  one  hand,  this  appears  as  the  principle  of  a 
good  life ;  on  the  other,  it  aftbrds  the  principle  of 
acceptance  with  God,  in  so  far  as  God  judges  men 
by  the  ideal  they  follow,  though  their  realization 
of  it  may  l>e  imperfect.  The  Kantian  theologian 
Tieftrunk  further  pointed  out  that  from  a  psyclio- 
logical  point  of  view  the  operation  of  the  Dii'ine 
grace  is  absolutely  necessarj-,  if  a  man,  in  spite  of 


his  consciousness  of  guilt,  is  to  be  able  joyfully  to 
fulfil  the  moral  law ;  .so  that  it  is  required  from 
the  point  of  view  of  the  law  itself,  in  so  far  as  it 
looks  for  fulfilment  (Lipsius,  p.  685  ;  Ritsclil  '■',  i.  p. 
429  ft:). 

The  defect  of  the  Kantian  conception,  from  the 
point  of  view  of  the  Christian  religion,  is  its  lack 
<if  organic  connexion  with  the  historical  revelation 
of  God  in  Jesus  Chiist.  In  the  system  of  Sclileier- 
macher, however,  the  fundamental  character  for 
Christianity  of  tliis  revelation  is  fully  recognized, 
while  at  the  same  time,  instead  of  a  return  to  the 
standpoint  of  the  older  Protestant  dogmatics,  there 
is  introduced  a  new  and  fruitful  theolo^cal  prin- 
ciple. Sclileiermacher  demands  that  all  concep- 
tions concerning  Divine  operations  shall  be  verified 
by  their  correspondence  with  Christian  experience, 
not  indeed  the  experience  of  an  individual,  but  of 
the  Christian  conmiunity  as  a  whole  [Der  christliche 
G/aube^,  i.  §30.  p.  162). 

From  this  point  of  liew  Schleiermachcr  treats  justification. 
He  be^ns  \\ith  the  Christian  consciousness  of  redemption  and 
reconciliation  through  Christ.  *  The  Redeemer  receives  believers 
into  the  power  of  His  God-consciousness,  and  this  is  His  re- 
deeming: activitj''  (ii.  §  100.  p.  94).  'The  Redeemer  receives 
beUevers  into  the  fellowship  of  His  undisturbed  happiness,  and 
this  is  His  reconciling  activity"  (ii.  §101.  p.  102).  Schleier- 
machcr thus  views  the  work  of  Christ  through  the  total  impres- 
sion of  His  character  and  life.  Only  as  a  part  of  the  latter  do 
His  sufferings  come  into  question  (ii.  §  101.  4,  p.  108).  In 
accordance  with  this  groundwork  follows  the  doctrine  of  justi- 
fication. Justification  and  conversion  are  the  two  inseparable 
parts  of  regeneration  or  assumption  into  union  with  Christ. 
'  .\ssumption  into  union  with  Christ  is,  \ievved  as  an  altered 
relation  of  man  to  God,  his  justification  ;  viewed  as  an  altered 
form  of  life,  his  conversion '  (ii.  §  107.  p.  165).  Justification  is  by 
faith,  and  includes  the  forgiveness  of  sins  and  adoption  into 
Divine  sonship  (ii.  5  109.  |).  190).  All  these  things  flow  naturally 
and  inseparably  from  umon  with  Christ,  w^hich  alters  alike  the 
will  and  the  contemplative  consciousness.  In  particular,  the 
consciousness  of  forgiveness  follo\\*s  from  the  fact  that  the  new 
man  in  Christ  has  no  relation  to  the  sins  of  the  old  man  or 
their  penalties.  Present  suffering  he  regards  simply  as  evil,  not 
as  punishment,  and  of  future  suffering  he  has  no  fear  (ii.  §  109. 
2,  p.  193).  Finally,  when  passing  over  from  our  own  conscious- 
ness we  view  justification  as  a  Divine  act,  it  is  not  to  be  separ- 
ated from  the  effective  working  of  Christ  in  conversion.  The 
Divine  act  of  justification,  moreover,  is  one  with  the  sending  of 
Christ  into  the  world.  There  is  no  '  declaratory  act '  apart  from 
this  ;  only  figuratively  can  such  be  spoken  ot'.  As  regards  the 
justification  of  the  indi%idual.  the  case  is  sinipl>-  that  the  one 
Divine  decree  of  justification  in  Christ  is  realized  in  successive 
points  of  time.  Finally,  faith  is  not  to  be  described  as  the 
instrumental  cause,  or  the  opyetvov  ^z'e^nuv  of  justification.  We 
bring  nothing  to  the  Divine  grace  in  Christ  but  our  mere 
receptivity  (ii.  §  109.  3,  p.  19.i  f.).  Faith  is  awakened  wholly  by 
the  operation  of  Christ  (ii.  §  108.  6,  p.  186). 

The  influence  of  the  Reformed  theology  is  plainly 
A-isible  in  the  position  of  Sclileiermacher,  that  justi- 
fication is,  as  a  Divine  act,  to  be  viewed  as  realized 
first  of  all  in  Christ,  and  then  succes-sively  in  be- 
lievers. Compare  what  is  said  above,  also  Turretin 
{In^t.  Theol.  Meneticw,  Loc.  xvi.  Qu.  ix.  12),  who 
says  that  justification  is  one  from  the  point  of 
view  of  God,  though  from  our  point  of  view  it  ap- 
pears in  successive  acts,  \'iz.  God's  eternal  decree 
of  justification,  the  realization  of  it  in  Christ's 
work,  the  application  of  it  in  experience,  and  the 
declaration  of  it  at  the  last  day.  But,  further,  the 
correspondence  of  this  point  of  view  with  the  ten- 
dency previously  noted  in  St.  Paul  to  bring  the 
objective  and  subjective  sides  of  justification  into 
close  and  indeed  inseparable  relation,  may  also  be 
remarked.  Schleiermacher,  however,  brmgs  the 
principle  which  xmderlies  this  tendency  to  clear 
con.sciousness,  and  bases  on  it  his  theological  method, 
for  which,  as  we  saw,  the  continuity  of  Divine 
operation  and  human  experience  is  fundamental. 

Schleiermacher's  doctrine  of  justification  has 
been  diB'erently  understood.  Most  theologians 
have  considered  that  he  means  to  make  justifica- 
tion conditional  on  a  real  union  with  Christ  (cf. 
Lipsius,  p.  686  ft".).  RitschI,  liowever,  thinks  that 
only  an  ideal  union  is  referred  to  (iii.^  p.  559). 
Two  ditferent  developments,  therefore,  have  taken 


JUSTIFICATION 


JUSTIFICATION 


023 


place,  starting  from  either  view  of  Schleiermacher's 
position. 

In  the  first  place,  one  of  the  commonest  views  in 
modem  theology  makes  justification  dependent  on 
a  real  union  with  Christ,  breakin-  .1<.\mi  tlic  .^liniii 
distinction  between  justification  ami   ivj. n.  r.ii  i.ni, 

and  treating  them  simply  as  asjic.  I^.  oi   ili.-  >; 

process.  Faith,  on  this  view,  is  Ui  !»•  nuiiidcl 
in  justification  not  simply  as  the  rflk'X  of  Divine; 
grace,  but  as  comprulienclinj^  the  spiritual  content 
of  union  with  Clinst,  and  ni  the  gift  of  the  Spirit, 
which  is  the  basis  of  the  ethical  life  of  the  Christian. 
Hence  this  view  of  justification  is  claimed  to  be 
'ethical';  justification  according  to  it  being  a 
recognition  of  what  really  is  in  the  believer  his 
new  life,  as  well  pleasing  to  God.  A  reconciliation 
with  the  forensic  view  is  found  in  the  Kantian 
thought  that  God  judges  by  the  ideal;    so  that 


justification    appears    as    a    ijrophetic    judgment, 
which  sees  in  th(    "     ' 
whole  fruit. 


first  germ  of  the  new  life  its 


This  view  is  closely  akin  to  Osiander's.  It  has 
undoubtedly  points  of  contact  with  the  broader 
use  of  the  word  '  faith '  in  St.  Paul,  who,  as 
Pfleiderer  points  out,  often  uses  it  as  practically 
equivalent  to  the  whole  of  Christianity  (Urchris- 
tenthum\  i.  p.  250  ;  cf.  1  Co  12i»'  161^).  It  is  further 
along  the' line  developed  in  the  cycle  of  passages 
like  Ro  8",  Gal  2",  1  Co  i*  9=^-  -'',  Ph  S"-",  as 
previously  explained.  But  it  does  not  represent 
8t.  Paul^  main  line  of  thought  with  respect  to 
justification,  and  the  objection  to  it  further  is  that 
in  the  end  it  bases  justification  either  upon  the 
imperfect  realization  of  Christ  in  us,  or,  in  so  far 
as  the  imperfection  is  counterbalanced  by  a  refer- 
ence to  the  ideal,  upon  what  is  still  future,  thus 
resembling  the  Catholic  view.  This  view  does  not, 
therefore,  meet  the  religious  need  of  a  firm  and 
unshakable  ground  of  trust  as  to  acceptance  with 
God. 

In  opposition  to  it,  therefore,  Kitschl  develops 
the  doctrine  of  Schleiermacher  along  the  other  line, 
which  he  takes  to  be  its  real  meaning,  giving  in 
his  theology  also  prominence  to  a  conception  which 
with  Schleiermacher  is  in  the  background — that  of 
revelation.  The  idea  of  justification  is  consequently 
construed  directly  through  the  idea  of  the  Divine 
grace  as  revealed  in  Christ,  and  faith  is  thought  of 
as  of  a  piece  with  this  revelation  and  the  realiza- 
tion of  it  in  human  lives.  Justification  is  thus  in 
the  first  instance  through  grace,  but  by  faith. 
Ritschl's  way  of  expressing  this  is  by  saymg  that 
justification  is  the  act  of  God  as  Father,  and  further 
that  the  sentence  of  justification  falls  in  the  first 
instance  on  the  religious  community  founded  by 
Christ  as  a  whole,  to  which  God  imputes  the  position 
towards  Him  of  Christ  its  Founder,  and  on  indi- 
viduals as  by  faith  in  the  Gospel  they  attach 
themselves  to  this  community;  justification  thus 
becoming  eftective  for  them.  Faitli  is  simply  oliedi- 
ence  to  God  and  trust  in  the  revelation  of  His  grace 
in  Christ.  Its  functions  are  religious,  nut  uioral 
(iii.=  p.  139  ;  cf.  also  p.  70).  As  regards  the  eftects 
of  justification,  the  comprehensive  description  of 
them  is  that  it  is  '  the  acceptance  of  sinners  into 
fellowship  with  God,  in  which  their  salvation  is  to 
be  realized  and  carried  out  into  eternal  life.'  In 
particular,  the  consciousness  of  guilt  is  removed, 
in  .so  far  as  the  element  of  mistrust  of  God,  which 
is  the  essence  of  it,  is  removed  (p.  85).  Assurance 
of  justification  can  be  obtained  only  by  the  exercise 
of  faith  in  patience  or  'lordship  over  the  world.' 
Finally,  the  course  of  moral  action  is  conditioned 
by  justification  ;  but  the  direct  aim  of  the  latter  is 
not  the  product  of  mcr.".!  action,  but  the  bestowal 
of  eternal  life,  which  is  realized  here  and  now  in 
lordship  over  the  world  (pp.  192,  534  f.,  670). 

III.  Constructive  treatment.— It  appears  to 


the  present  writer  that  a  correct  modern  interpre- 
tation of  the  Pauline  conception  of  justification 
must  move  generally  along  the  hnes  suggested  by 
Kitschl.  Perhaps  it  may  be  necessary  to  observe 
tliat  such  an  interjivftatii'm  is  viTiuired,  and  that  it 


and  «e  liii\-e  to  settle  which  is  to  be  regarded  as 
determinative.  Then,  again,  there  are  gaps  in  the 
Pauline  presentation  which  require  to  be  failed  up, 
especially  in  view  of  the  points  raised  by  later 
theological  controversies.  Finally,  the  Pauline 
theology  is  only  one  among  the  early  Christian 
presentations  of  the  Christian  salvation,  and  it  is 
necessary  in  .some  points  to  modify  his  conceptions 
in  order  to  do  justice  to  other  NT  points  of  \\e\y, 
especially  those  presented  in  the  Gospels.  We 
proceed,  then,  to  present  the  doctrine  of  justifica- 
tion along  the  general  lines  of  Ritschl,  but  with 
regard  also  to  the  treatment  of  other  theologians, 
who  have,  as  it  seems  to  the  writer,  dealt  more 
satisfactorily  than  Ritschl  with  particular  points. 
Reference  is  made  particularly  to  Ritschl  s  own 
followers,  Kaftan  and  Haling,  but  also  to  Lipsius 
and  Kahler,  and  finally  to  W.  N.  Clarke. 

Instead  of  beginning  with  St.  Paul's  technical 
term  '  justification,'  we  shall  first  make  use  of  its 
material  equivalent,  the  idea  oi  forgiveness,  having 
already  established  our  right  to  do  this.  We  thus, 
as  Kaftan  says  (Dogmntik  ^-  *,  p.  523),  present  the 
issue  in  a  simpler  and  less  equivocal  form,  with 
the  advantage  also  of  keeping  before  the  mind 
the  connexions  of  the  subject  in  the  teaching  of 
Jesus.  What  Paul  calls  grace  is  to  Jesus  the 
Fatherly  forgiving  love  of  God. 

We  begin,  then,  with  the  analysis  of  forgiveness 
as  a  Divine  act,  and  consider,  after  Paul,  first  the 
objective  side  of  this  act — revelation, — and  then 
the  subjective  side — faith,  by  which  the  revelation 
is  appropriated  and  forgiveness  fully  realized.  The 
revelation  of  forgiveness  is  in  Jesus  Christ,  His 
Person  and  Work ;  not  merely,  however,  as  St. 
Paul  teaches,  in  His  death  and  resurrection,  but  as 
the  Gospels  clearly  show,  and  as  Schleiermacher, 
after  them,  recognized,  in  His  whole  life,  including 
these  culminating  acts.  Forgiveness  is  revealed 
by  the  whole  of  Christ's  activity  as  well  as  by 
ilis  sufferings.  In  fact.  His  sufferings  reveal  for- 
giveness because  of  the  activity  expressed  in  the 
endurance  of  them.  Jesus  furtlier  makes  this 
revelation  as  the  unique  and  perfect  representative 
of  God  in  the  world,  absolutely  one  with  the  Father 
in  thought  and  feeling  ;  so  that  by  every  word  and 
deed  and  by  His  whole  attitude  He  incarnates  God 
in  the  world,  to  do  which  is  His  earthly  mission  and 
vocation. 

The  Fatherly  forgiveness  of  God,  which  Jesus 
reveals,  is  no  mere  good-natured  indulgence ;  on 
the  contrary,  the  Father  is  the  Holy  F'ather,  the 
Righteous  Father  (Jn  17"-  ^),  and  His  forgiveness 
is  holy  and  righteous  forgiveness.  Jesus  guaran- 
tees this  by  His  revelation  not  only  of  the  Divine 
forgiveness,  but  also  of  the  Divine  holiness  in  its 
stern  condemnation  of  sin.  A  holy  hatred  of  sin 
is  evident  in  His  whole  attitude. 

But,  finally,  Jesus  reveals  the  holy  forgiving 
love  of  God  not  only  in  these  two  separate  moments, 
but  in  its  entirety,  by  His  bearing  in  love  the  sins 
of  men  upon  His  soul.  We  can  explain  His  sorrow 
over  Jerusalem  only  as  the  pain  of  One  who,  full 
of  love  to  men,  felt  their  sin  as  the  heaviest  burden. 
We  can  explain  the  agony  in  Gethsemane  and  the 
cry  of  desolation  on  the  cross  only  along  the  same 
lines,  as  caused  by  the  pressure  of  the  sin  of  the 
world  upon  the  loving  heart  of  the  Saviour.  In 
this  bearing  of  sin,  however,  Jesus  was  still  reveal- 
ing the  attitude  of  God  towards  sinners.     The  fact 


924 


JUSTIFICATION 


JUSTIFICATION 


that  the  burden  of  sin  upon  His  soul  broke  in 
upon  the  peace  and  bliss  of  His  personal  communion 
with  the  Father,  makes  no  difference  as  to  this 
point.  Christ's  actual  communion  with  tlie  Father 
had  to  be  maintained,  indeed,  by  an  act  of  supreme 
self-surrender  (Mk  14**),  or  of  faith,  unaided  by 
any  evidence  of  the  Divine  presence  (lo**).  It  was 
necessary  that  the  holy  love  of  God  sliould  come  to 
complete  self-expression  in  the  w  urld.  which  could 
only  be  by  the  revelation  of  the  dt'iitli  uf  sutiering 
caused  to  sinless  love  by  sin  ;  and  this  revelation 
could  not  be  made  except  by  the  Kevealer  pro- 
ceeding along  a  path  which  brought  upon  His 
human  spirit  the  sense  of  separation  from  God. 
This  path  was,  however,  not  a  new  one ;  it  was 
but  the  contLauation,  to  tlie  end  of  the  path,  of 
Christ's  vocation  as  Revealer  of  God.  To  reveal 
the  holy  love  of  God  in  a  world  of  sin  could  have 
but  one  issue,  that  which  it  historically  had, 
viz.  to  rouse  up  the  opposition  of  sin,  as  much 
to  the  love  as  to  the  hohness  (Lk  15°),  to  the  utter- 
most. The  final  act  of  self-surrender  and  faith, 
therefore,  by  which  Jesus  gave  Himself  to  the 
death  at  the  hands  of  sinners,  which  was  inevit- 
able, if  He  persevered  in  His  vocation,  was  simply 
the  climax  of  the  self-surrender  and  faith  by 
which  as  man  He  gave  Himself  at  every  moment 
to  the  work  of  His  vocation.  The  whole  revela- 
tion of  God  made  by  Jesus  being  a  revelation  within 
humanity,  was  made  at  every  point  by  the  offering 
up  of  the  human  will  of  Jesus  to  the  Father.  His 
whole  life  and  death  together  constituted  a  sacrifice, 
wliich  He  offered  up  to  God  as  the  necessary  means 
of  the  revelation  in  the  world  of  His  holy  love. 
And  this  He  did  for  the  sake  of  men,  that  they 
might  come  to  know  the  holy  forgiveness  of  the 
Father. 

Such,  then,  would  seem  to  be  the  necessary  re- 
statement of  the  Pauline  doctrine  of  the  revelation 
of  the  grace  of  God  in  Christ  in  view  of  the  his- 
torical statements  of  the  Gospels.  To  complete  it, 
however,  it  is  necessary  to  add  that  the  function 
of  the  resurrection  is  to  make  the  historical  revela- 
tion permanent  and  abiding,  by  presenting  Christ 
as  the  perpetual  object  of  faith.  This  leads  to  the 
next  point,  which  is  that  of  the  doctrine  of  faith, 
or  the  subjective  appropriation  of  the  revelation. 
There  St.  Paul's  conception  of  faith  as  in  the  first 
place,  on  the  side  of  the  will,  a  species  of  obedience 
or  submission  to  God,  remains  fundamental.  It  is 
in  essential  agreement,  it  may  be  observed,  with 
the  teaching  of  Jesus  Himself,  in  which  /xerdi/oia, 
or  turning  to  God,  is  made  the  subjective  principle 
of  forgiveness.  But  in  order  that  the  subjective 
appropriation  may  correspond  in  all  pDiiits  with  the 
objective  revelation,  faith  must  nut  be  limited 
psychologically  to  trust,  b\it  must  includi'  ]i(>iiitence 
also,  in  this  way  appearing  as  the  proiiiT  correla- 
tive of  both  the  love  and  the  holiness  of  forgive- 
ness. When  the  revelation  of  forgiveness  in  Ciirist 
awakens  this  faith  in  the  heart,  then  the  Divine  act 
of  forgiveness  is  completed,  and  forgiveness  is  fully 


We  turn  next  to  forgiveness  as  an  experience, 
where  St.  Paul  gives  ample  guidance,  and  all  that 
is  necessary-  is  to  explain  some  points  in  reference 
to  the  problems  raised  by  later  theologians.  The 
first  practical  effect  of  justification  is  peace  with 
God,  or  the  removal  of  the  consciousness  of  <;uilt 
which  separated  the  sinner  from  God.  This  is 
removed  by  the  appropriation  of  the  DiWne  forgive- 
ness, which  is  realized  as  the  removal  of  guilt. 
Nor  does  conscience  offer  any  obstacle  to  the 
realization  of  the  reinovrl  of  yiii'lt  in  the  conscious- 
ness of  the  l«'lie\ir;  -'win-  the  holiness  of  the 
Divine  forgi\ en.-,  i~  a~  ui.mI  by  the  very  revela- 
tion which  liiiiii:-.  the  knowledge  of  it.  In  fact, 
the   peuiteiue   whicii    accompanies    trust    in    the 


Divine  forgiveness  as  the  result  of  the  revelation  in 
Christ,  is  an  inward  appropriation  of  the  Divine 
condemnation  of  sin.  Thus  there  is  peace  witli 
God  as  the  result  of  faith,  and  that  uipon  the  suie 
and  certain  basis  of  the  knowledge  of  tiod's  holy 
love,  in  which  both  the  conscience  and  the  heart 
find  rest. 

Forgiveness  is  also  realized  as  the  remission  of 
the  penalties  of  sin.  The  chief  penalty  of  sin  is 
etemal  death,  or  separation  from  God.  But  further, 
of  physical  evils  some  are  clearly  the  effects  of  sin  ; 
and  the  rest,  to  the  sinner  conscious  of  separation 
from  God,  also  tend  to  appear  as  the  tokens  of 
His  displeasure.  Forgiveness  removes  the  fear  of 
eternal  death  by  the  establishment  of  communion 
with  God  ;  while,  so  far  as  physical  evils  are  con- 
cerned, though  the  consequences  of  former  sins 
may  continue  to  abound,  yet  all  these  appear  no 
longer  as  tokens  of  God's  displeasure,  out  as 
fatherly  chastisements,  so  that  the  believer's  com- 
munion with  God  remains  unbroken  by  them. 
Finally,  the  positive  expression  of  the  whole  ex- 
perience is  that  the  believer  enjoys  the  privilege  of 
Divine  sonship,  and  has,  in  his  communion  \vith 
God,  here  and  now,  the  gift  of  eternal  life ;  while 
his  trust  in  God  enables  him  confidently  to  leave 
to  Him  the  maintenance  of  this  privilege  in  the 
future.  The  negative  statement  of  this  experience 
is  that  the  standing  of  the  believer  with  God  is  not 
on  terms  of  law  or  merit.  In  other  words,  to  sum 
up  the  whole  matter,  the  Christian  religion  is  not 
a  religion  of  law  but  a  religion  of  grace.  This  is 
the  real  meaning  of  the  article  of  justification  by 
faith,  which  shows  at  once  why  it  is  so  fundamental 
for  Christianity,  and  why  it  is  so  necessary  to 
maintain  that  justification  is  by  faith  alone. 

We  have  now  reached  the  end  of  the  exposition 
of  the  subject-matter  of  the  doctrine  ;  some  neces- 
sary que.stions,  however,  remain  to  be  discussed. 
The  first  is  formal.  With  what  point  in  time  is 
the  Divine  act  of  justification  to  be  connected?  If 
the  exposition  above  has  been  followed,  it  will  be 
seen  that  the  question  is  one  of  definition.  Forgive- 
ness is  revealed  in  Christ,  and  realized  in  faith. 
We  may,  therefore,  connect  the  Di^-ine  act  more 
particularly  with  the  death  of  Christ  as  the  climax 
of  the  revelation,  as  Kaftan  does  (Dogmatik^-*,  p. 
523),  which  is,  perhaps,  most  logical ;  or  we  may, 
with  Lipsius  (Dogmatik,  p.  696),  connect  it  with  the 
awakening  of  faith  in  the  sense  that  then  God  by 
His  Spirit  speaks  pardon  to  the  soul.  The  one  is  the 
justificatio  activa,  the  other  the  just  ificatio  passiva 
of  Reformed  theology ;  each  is  simply  an  aspect  of 
one  process. 

The  next  question  is  that  of  assurance.  The  Wew 
of  Lipsius  here  seems  most  in  accordance  with  the 
spirit  of  Paul,  viz.  that  '  when  faith  becomes  un- 
certain, there  remains  to  us  nothing  but  ever  to 
return  anew  in  believing  trust  to  tlie  objective 
message  of  grace,  which  meets  us  in  the  gospel  or 
in  the  historical  revelation  in  Christ,  till  the  lost 
consciousness  of  salvation  revives  again.' 

There  leiji.iins  the  most  difficult  question  of  all, 
as  Lipsius  ( :ill,  it,  '  the  master  question  of  theology ' 
(Dv'iiii'i)il:.  y.  i\m).  viz.  the  question  of  the  relation 
o/  justi/iratiuii  tu  regeneration  and  the  Christian 
life.  The  Pauline  answer  to  this  question  is,  as 
we  have  seen,  that  the  same  Divine  revelation  in 
Christ  by  whicli  forgiveness  is  revealed,  is  also  the 
revelation  of  an  ethical  ideal  as  an  energizing 
spirit ;  and  that,  as  faith  receives  the  revelation  of 
grace  in  forgiveness,  so  it  receives  also  at  the  same 
time  the  revelation  of  the  ideal  as  a  quickening 
influence  upon  the  life.  It  is  still  an  act  of  obedi- 
ence or  submission  to  God,  but,  in  this  latter 
aspect,  the  act  of  obedience  or  sulirjiissiou  to  the 
Christian  ideal,  or  the  reception  of  the  Spirit  of 
Christ  as  the  principle  of  life.     It  is  one  and  the 


JUSTIFYING  ONE'S  SELF 


KEEPING 


same  revelation  in  both  cases,  and  one  and  the 
same  faith  or  receptivity  in  both  cases.  Justifica- 
tion and  regeneration  are  therefore  vitally  con- 
nected, and  it  is  impossible  to  experience  one  with- 
out the  other.  Nevertheless  Christian  theology  is 
compelled  to  treat  them  as  separate  articles,  in 
order  to  do  justice  to  each.  In  spite  of  the  oneness 
of  the  revelation  in  Christ,  and  of  the  faith  of  the 
Christian,  it  remains  true  that  justification  has  its 
ground  simply  in  the  Divine  grace,  and  that  faith 
comes  into  view  in  the  matter,  not  in  its  general 
reference  to  the  Christian  life  as  a  whole,  but 
as  it  reflects  the  Divine  revelation  of  God's  holy 
forgiveness. 

LiTERATTJRE.— Only  a,  representative  selection  can  be  gfiven. 
It  falls  into  three  drvisions,  corresponding  to  those  of  the 
article.  First,  however,  must  be  named  a  work  covering  all 
three  divisions,  viz.  Eitschl's  great  work,  Rechtfertigung  und 
Veradhnung3,  3  vols.  1889  [Eng.  tr.  (Justijicatirm  and  Recmi- 
ciliation.)  of  1st  vol.  from  1st  ed.  1872,  of  3rd  vol.  from  3rd  ed. 
1902]. 

I.  Biblical  ri/EOIOCr.— (a)  Art. '  Justification '  in  Hastings' 
DB,  vol.  ii. :  E.  Smend,  Alttest.  Religiomgeschichte^,  1899; 
Weber,  Jiid.  TheoW^  1897 ;  Bousset,  Religion  des  Judmthums 
im  Neutest.  Zeitalter,  1903.— (6)  The  various  NT  Theologies, 
especially  that  of  Holtzmann,  1897 ;  the  general  works  on 
Paulinism ;  further,  ilinigoz,  Le  pichi  et  la  redemption  d'apris 
St.  Paul,  1882 :  Riggenbach,  Die  Rechtfertigungslehre  des 
Apostets  Pauliui,  1897 ;  H.  Crenier,  Die  pauhn.  Rechtferti- 
gungslehre^,  1900;  the  Comm.  on  St.  Paul's  Epistles,  esp. 
Sanday-Headlam,  RoinanSy  1896. 


II.  HISTORY  OF  THE  DoCTRIliE.—ia)  The  general  works  < 

le,  esp.  Seeberg,  Dogmengesch.  1896-189; 

ir,  Lehre  von  der  Versohmmg,  1838.— (6)  The  CathoUc  c 


the  History  of  Doctrine,  ( 


trine :  Aquinas,  Summa  Theologica  [many  editions] ;  Canones 
et  Decreta  Concilii  Tridentiniy  ed.  Tauchnitz,  1846 ;  Mdhler, 
Symbolik>i,  1872  [also  in  Eng.  tr.] ;  Newman,  Lectures  on 
Justification  6,  1892.— (c)  The  Protestant  doctrine  :  the  various 
Symbols  of  the  Lutheran  and  Reformed  Churches,  esp.  Formula 
Cmieordice,  1689,  and  Berlin,  1857.  («)  Lutheran :  Kostlin, 
Luthers  Theologie  2,  1901 ;  Th.  Harnack,  Luthers  Theoiogie, 
1862-1886;  Melanchthon,  Loci  Theologici,  ISlil,  Erlangen,  1828; 
Gerhard,  Loci  Theologici,  1610-1625,  also  ed.  by  Frank,  1885; 
Frank,  System  der  Christlichen  Wahrheif^,  1894.  03)  Reformed  : 
Calvin,  Inst.  Re.liq.  Christ.  1559,  and  Edin.  1874;  Turretin, 
Inst.  Theol.  Elencticm,  168S,  and  Edin.  1847  ;  Owen,  On  Justifi- 
cation, 1677,  and  Edin.  1851 ;  Hodge,  Systematic  Theology,  1872. 
— (d)  The  Socinian  criticism  :  Faustus  Socinus,  de  Jesu  Christo 
Servatore,  in  Bibliotheca  Fratrum  Polonorum,  1656. 

III.  Modern  Theories.— Kant,  Die  Religion  innerhalb  der 
Grenzen  derilossen  Vemun/t,  1793  ;  Schleiermacher,  Der  Christ- 
tiehe  Glaube  2,  1830 ;  Rothe,  Theol.  Ethik  '•!,  1867-1871 ;  Dorner, 
System,  der  Christlichen  Glanbeuslehre,  1879-1881  [also  Eng.  tr. 
Sj/stem  of  Christian  Doctrine.  1S80-1883);  Lipsius,  Dogmatik^, 
1893;  Kahler,  Die  Wissenschaft  der  Christlichen  Lehre\  1905; 
Kaftan,  Donmatik^- ",  1901 ;  W.  N.  Clarke,  Outlim  of  Christian 
Theology,  1903;  Stevens,  The  Christian  Doctrine  of  Salvation, 

1905.  Robert  S.  Franks. 

JUSTIFYING  ONE'S   SELF.— When  our  Lord 


told  the  lawyer  that  loving  God  with  all  the  heart 
and  one's  neighbour  as  one's  self  was  the  way 
to  inherit  eternal  life,  the  man,  '  willing  to  justify 
himself,  said  unto  Jesus,  And  who  is  my  neigh- 
bour?' (Lk  10-").  And  on  a  later  occasion,  in 
opposition  to  tlie  Pharisees  who  derided  Him,  our 
Lord  said  to  them,  '  Ye  are  they  which  justify 
1  yourselves  before  men'  (16'*).  The  English  word 
I  '  justify '  always  means  '  to  show  to  be  just,' 
and  in  the  dift'erent  passages  the  idea  of  the  Greek 
also  is  that  of  showing  one's  self  to  be  just  or 
righteous.  In  the  first  case  the  lawyer  wished  to 
justify  either  his  past  neglect  of  the  command  to 
love  his  neighbour,  or  else  his  having  asked  the 
question,  by  seeking  to  be  told  to  whom  the  term 
' neighbour'  was  to  be  applied.  He  would  thereby 
suggest  the  impossibility  of  fulfilling  the  command 
until  he  knew  for  certain  to  whom  the  term  was 
rightly  applicable.  In  the  case  of  the  Pharisees 
in  the  latter  passage,  the  emphasis  is  clearly  laid 
upon  the  fact  that  they  were  endeavouring  (with 
apparent  success)  to  show  themselves  to  be  right- 
eous persons  in  the  judgment  of  men,  though  God's 
idea  of  them  was  entirely  dift'erent.  With  reference 
to  the  lawyer's  question,  '  Who  is  my  neighbour  ? ' 
the  precise  form  of  the  inquiiy  is  noteworthy. 
Just  as  if  a  man  could  pick  and  choose  after  being 
told  who  and  what  constitutes  a  neighbour.  The 
question  really  comes  from  a  self-centred  man  who 
meant,  '  Who  is  neighbour  to  me  ? '  Bishop  Light- 
foot  once  preached  a  sermon  on  this  subject,  in 
which  he  pointed  out  that  the  true  question  is, 
'  Who  my  neighbour  is,'  that  is,  '  What  is  he  like  ? 
what  are  his  characteristics  ? '  It  does  not  call  atten- 
tion to  this  or  that  person  as  a  possible  neighbour, 
but  concentrates  thought  on  my  getting  to  know 
all  about  the  man  who  is  '  nigh '  me,  my  neighbour 
in  every  sense.  Thus  by  his  very  question  the 
man,  so  far  from  justifying  himself,  that  is,  show- 
ing himself  to  be  just,  reaUy  condemned  himself. 
The  character  of  the  question  reveals  a  selfish  man 
whose  one  thought  was  about  some  one  being 
neighbour  to  him  instead  of  inquiring  as  to  whom 
he  could  be  a  neighbour.  Our  Lord's  parable  of  the 
Good  Saniarit.in  and  its  application,  'Which  of 
the.se  was  nciglibnur  unto  Aiwt  ?' revealed  the  true 
aspect  and  attitude.  This  is  but  one  instance  of  the 
great  law  that  no  man  can  justify  himself  before 
God.  'By  the  deeds  of  the  law  shall  no  flesh 
living  be  justified '  (Ro  S^"). 

W.  H.  Griffith  Thomas. 


K 


KEEPING.  — The  Eng.  verb  'keep,'  \vith  its 
equivalents  '  watch,'  '  beware  of,'  '  preserve,'  '  ob- 
serve,' is  a  tr.  of  several  Gr.  words :  r-ripio)  (and  its 
compounds  Siarripiu.  avvrrfp^ui),  tpiiXiaaui  (and  its 
compound  Sio0iiXd<rtrw),  iroiiu,  1%^  (and  its  com- 
pounds Kar^x^)  avp4x<^),  Kpar^o},  &yu). 

The  most  imjiortant  of  these  words  are  rripiti)  and 
<t>v\a.a-(Toi  with  tlieir  respective  compounds,  and  for 
a  discussion  of  the  ditterence  in  meaning  between 
them  the  reader  is  referred  to  Grimm-Tliayer's  Gr. 
Lex.,  and  Westcott's  St.  John  (note  on  8''). 

1,  Two  common  usages  of  the  word  have  to  be 
noticed  first,  {a)  It  is=exercise  watchful  care.  The 
participle  tr.  in  AV  '  the  keepers '  (Mt  28^)  is  a 
part  of  the  same  verb  (rrjpita)  as  is  rendered 
'  watch '  in  Mt  27'*  '  and  they  sat  and  watched 
him  there'  (RV),  and  in  v.**  'The  centurion 
and  they  that  were  with  him  watching  .  .  .  feared 


exceedingly '  (RV).  It  is  a  compound  of  that  verb, 
too  (avvTripiui),  which  is  used  to  describe  the  action 
of  putting  '  new  wine  into  new  bottles  ' — '  both  are 
I)reserved,'  i.e.  properly  cared  for  (Mt  9").  And 
tlie  same  compound  occurs  again  in  the  passage  in 
Mk.  (6-°),  where  it  is  said  that  Herod  '  observed ' 
(AV)  John,  or  '  kept '  him  '  safe  '  (RV).  (6)  It  is  = 
cjiiard,  the  direct  implication  being  that  this  action 
IS  necessary  in  view  of  possible  assaults.  For 
instance,  '  There  were  shepherds  in  the  same 
country  abiding  in  the  field,  and  keeping  watch 
(0uXd<r(roi'T€!  0i/\aKds)  by  night  over  their  flocks' 
(Lk  2*)  ;  '  It  is  written.  He  shall  "ive  his  angels 
charge  over  thee  to  keep  (RV  guard)  thee'  (Lk  4'", 
wliere  the  verb  used  is  SiaipvKiaaui).  Other  instances 
of  the  same  usage  of  the  word  are  to  be  found  in 
Lk  8-i*  11='  12'^ 
2.  Retain   may  be    taken    as    another   general 


526 


KEEPING 


KEEPING 


synonym  for  '  keep '  as  it  is  used  in  the  Gospels. 
tor  example,  at  the  marriage  in  Cana  the  ruler  of 
the  feast  is  reported  as  having  said  to  the  bride- 
groom, '  Thou  hast  kept  {ttjp^u)  the  good  wine  until 
now'(Jn2"'). 

Retention  (rar^u)  is  described  as  a  stage  in  the 
process  whereby  '  an  honest  and  good  heart '  brings 
to  the  fulfilment  of  fruitfulness  the  experience  of 
'  hearing  the  word '  (Lk  8'*).  It  is  opposed  to 
'  hearing  with  joy,  but  having  no  root,'  and  to 
'  hearing  and  going  on  one's  way,  and  being  choked 
with  cares  and  riches  and  pleasures  of  this  life.' 

But,  apart  from  Mk  9'°,  where  the  disciples  are 
said  to  have  '  kept  (Kpardii)  the  saying '  which  Jesus 
spoke  to  them  on  their  way  down  from  the  Mount 
of  Transfiguration  [Luke  says,  ff"*,  they  '  held  their 
peace '  (My-qaav)  about  the  things  they  had  seen  on 
the  Mount],  the  two  most  striking  contexts  in 
which  the  word  is  used  with  this  meanin"  are 
found  in  Luke's  Gospel.  When  the  shepherds 
made  known  concerning  the  saying  which  had  been 
spoken  to  them  about  the  child  in  Bethlehem,  '  all 

that  heard  it  wondered But  Mary  kept  (o-wcriipfi) 

all  these  sayings  (or  things),  pordering  them  in  her 
heart'  (Lk  2'«-).  She  kept  them  to  herself,  and 
did  not  allow  the  impression  of  them  to  dissipate 
in  mere  astonishment.  '  The  wonder  of  the  many 
was  a  transient  emotion ;  this  recollecting  anil 
brooding  of  Mary  was  an  abiding  habit'  (Bruce, 
Expos.  Gr.  Test.).  Again,  referring  to  what  took 
place  on  the  occasion  of  the  visit  to  Jerusalem,  the 
narrative  goes  on  to  say  that  Jesus  went  down 
with  His  parents  '  and  came  to  Nazareth  ;  and  he 
was  subject  unto  them;  and  his  mother  kept 
(5ie7-i)pei)  all  these  sayings  (or  things)  in  her  heart ' 
(Lk  2").  She  kept  them  continually  and  carefully. 
They  were  never  absent  from  her  consciousness. 
They  were  always  the  subject  of  her  thought. 
Motherhood,  in  all  its  pathos  and  beauty,  in  all 
its  self-forgetfulness,  and  devoted  intentness,  and 
jealous  vigilance,  is  revealed  in  these  simple  words 
— '  His  mother  kept  all  these  sayings  in  her  heart. ' 

3.  Two  further  usages  of  the  word  may  be 
grouped  together  here,  (a)  In  certain  contexts 
It  means  to  celebrate.  For  example,  we  read  that 
Herod  '  exercised  a  watchful  care  '  over  the  Bap- 
tist, '  but  when  his  birthday  was  kept '  (fiyoi,  A  V ), 
he  was  found  off  his  guard  (Mt  H*").  Again,  the 
verb  used  to  describe  the  celebration  of  the  Pass- 
over (26'*)  is  '  keep '  {voiiai—a,  most  appropriate 
terra  to  use  in  connexion  with  an  ordinance  which 
largely  consisted  in  representing^  ancient  events  by 
means  of  symbolic  actions).  Once  more,  in  the 
report  given  in  John's  Gospel  of  the  anointin"  by 
ilary  in  Bethany,  we  read  that  Jesus  said  of 
Mary's  action,  '  Suffer  her  to  keep  {Ti)pia)  it  against 
the  day  of  my  burying'  (Jn  12'  RV) — the  meaning 
of  '  keep  it '  evidently  being  to  '  celebrate  this  as  a 
rite.'  (b)  In  several  contexts  it  means  generally 
to  observe  or  conform  to  For  instance,  we  reail 
that  when  the  Pharisees  and  scribes  asked  .Jesus 
why  His  disciples  walked  not  according  to  the 
tradition  of  the  elders,  but  ate  their  bread  with 
defiled  hands.  He  replied,  '  Full  well  do  ye  reject 
the  commandment  of  God,  that  ye  may  keep 
{rripiw)  your  tradition '  (Mk  7').  Again,  tfie  con- 
clusion to  which  some  of  the  Pharisees  are  reported 
to  have  come  with  regard  to  our  Lord's  action  in 
healing  a  man  blind  from  his  birth  on  the  Sabbath, 
was.  '  This  man  is  not  from  God,  because  he  keepeth 
[TTtpiw)  not  the  Sabbath  '  (Jn  9'<'). 

4.  But '  keep '  has  the  more  precise  meanings  of  : 
(a)  believe,  in  such  pas.sages  as  '  Blessed  are  they 
that  hear  the  word  of  God  and  keep  ((pvKiaffoi)  it ' 
(Lk  11^),  .and  '  If  any  man  hear  my  sayings,  and 
keep  ((j>v\i<r<ru)  them  not.  I  judge  him  not '  (.In 
12*') ;  and  (i)  obey,  in  such  passages  as  that  in 
which  the  rich  young  ruler  is  reported  as  having  I 


said  with  reference  to  the  commandments  cited  by 
Jesus,  'All  these  things  have  I  kept  (<t>v\a.(raui) 
from  my  youth  up '  (Mt  19»>  AV,  cf.  Mk  10-'",  Lk 
18-'),  and  that  in  which  Jesus  is  reported  as  havin" 
taxed  the  Jews  with  failure  to  '  keep  '  (AV)  or  '  do 
(RV  ;  iroieu)  the  Law  of  Moses  (Jn  7'"). 

But  the  significant  passages  in  this  connexion 
are  those  which  (with  the  exception  of  Mt  19"  and 
28™)  occur  in  the  Fouith  Gospel,  and  in  which  the 
verb  to  '  keep '  (rr/peu  in  every  instance)  is  associ- 
ated with  the  terms  \l>yoi  (sing,  ur  plur.  'word'  or 
'  words')  and  ivroKal  (plur.  '  commandments'),  (i.) 
Westcott  points  out  (note  to  Jn  8'')  that  the  phrase 
'  keeping  Christ's  word '  (or  '  words ')  refers  to  '  the 
observance  of  the  whole  revelation  in  its  organic 
completeness.'  The  opposite  of  'to  keep'  in  this 
connexion  is  '  to  disregard  ov  (^believe.'  He  who 
'  keeps '  Christ's  '  word '  (or  '  words ')  is  he  who  first 
attends  to  it,  and  lets  the  wonder  and  significance 
of  the  message  it  conveys  sink  into  his  mind,  and 
who  then  appropriates  and  makes  his  ovm  by  faith 
the  revelation  it  brings.  To  pay  no  heed  to  Christ's 
'  word '  (or  '  words '),  to  be  at  no  pains  to  think  out 
the  purport  of  His  appearance  m  history,  and  of 
the  tidings  of  salvation  He  proclaimed ;  or,  the 
meaning  and  worth  of  the  gospel  having  in  some 
measure  been  realized,  to  set  it  aside,  to  neglect  it, 
to  occupy  one's  self  seriously  with  other  things  only 
— that  is  the  attitude  to  Himself  which  Christ 
describes  when  He  speaks  of  a  man  7iot  '  keeping 
His  word.'  To  'keep'  Christ's  word,  in  short,  is 
to  take  Christ  at  His  word — to  believe  in  Him  (cf. 
Jn  8"-  5-  U=^-  -*  I5-"  11%  The  word  of  Christ  is 
the  word  of  the  Father  (14=*  17''),  and  it  is  the  word 
which  the  disciples  are  to  proclaim  (15™).  (ii.)  The 
phrase  '  keeping  Christ's  commandments '  refers  to 
'  the  observance  of  definite  precepts '  (Westcott, 
ib.).  The  opposite  of  'to  keep '  in  this  connexion 
is  clearly  'to  ditobei/.'  He  that  'keeps  Christ's 
commandments '  is  he  who  recognizes  their  su- 
premacy over  his  will,  and  seeks  to  regulate  his 
inward  and  his  outward  life  by  them.  To  slight 
the  obligations  which  Christ  imposes,  to  look  upon 
the  principles  of  conduct  which  He  enjoins  on  men 
as  subject  to  qualification  and  as  mere  alternatives 
to  other  possible  and  perhaps  more  congenial 
maxims,  or,  their  authority  being  acknowledged, 
to  limit  one's  conformity  to  them  to  an  external 
and  superficial  obedience,  an  obedience  that  is  only 
a  travesty  of  active  Christian  discipleship — that  is 
the  attitude  to  Christ  which  is  described  when  it 
has  to  be  said  of  a  man  that  he  '  keeps  not '  His 
commandments.  '  To  keep  Cluist's  command- 
ments '  is  to  ovm  Him  as  the  sole  .sovereign  of  one's 
life,  and  to  bring  one's  whole  self — mind  and  will 
and  heart  —  into  captivity  to  the  obedience  of 
Christ  (cf.   W-i  15^"). 

Love  for  Christ  is  described  by  Him  as  being 
the  condition  that  ensures  both  belief  in  His  word 
or  words  (14°^-  =*),  and  obedience  to  liis  command- 
ments (v.")  ;  and  obedience  to  His  commandments, 
on  the  other  hand  (v.'-'),  is  described  by  Him  as 
being  the  evidence  that  bears  witness  to  the  reality 
of  that  love.  Further,  to  believing  in  His  word  He 
attaches  two  promises.  '  If  a  man  love  me,  he 
will  keep  my  word  :  and  my  Father  will  love  him, 
and  we  will  come  unto  him  and  make  our  abode 
with  him  '  (v.^'),  and  '  If  a  man  keep  my  word,  he 
shall  never  see  death  '  (8") — a  combination  of  pas- 
sages which  shows  what  '  death  '  involves.  Simi- 
larly with  iihedienre  to  His  commandments  Christ 
connects  this  jiroinise,  '  If  ye  keep  my  command- 
ments, ye  sliall  ■.i\<v\e  in  my  love  ;  even  as  I  .  .  . 
abicli»  in  my  Fatlier's  love'  (15'")  :  .and  with  the 
love  to  Hiiil  th.at  is  Ixjme  witness  to  by  obedience 
to  Mis  ciiniTiiandments,  this  other  :  '  lle'th.-it  loveth 
nic  shall  he  loved  of  my  Father,  .and  1  will  love 
him,  and  will  manifest  nij'self  unto  him'  (14-'). 


IvENOSlS 


KENOSIS 


Finally,  Christ  describes  Himself  as  staiuliiig  in 
this  twofold  relation  to  the  Father,  viz.  of  '  keep- 
ing his  word,'  and  '  keeping  his  commanilments  ; 
'  I  know  him,  and  keep  his  word '  (8'=)  ;  '  I  have 
kept  my  Father's  commandments,  and  abide  in 
his  love'  (15'"). 

S.  The  last  usage  of  the  word  '  keep '  refers  to 
the  Divine  care  of  men,  and  occurs  in  our  Lord's 
Intercessory  Prayer  (17).  (a)  V."  lets  us  see  one 
aspect  of  the  meaning  of  thi.s  '  keeping '  :  '  Holy 
Father,  keep  (rtjp^u)  them  [i.e.  '  those  whom  thou 
hast  given  me '  (v.')]  in  thy  name  which  thou  hast 
given  me,  that  they  may  be  one,  even  as  we  are.' 
This  was  the  work  which  Christ  had  wrought  for 
the  disciples  while  He  was  with  them.  He  had 
kept  (Tiipiw)  them  in  the  Father's  name,  and 
guarded  (tfvK&aaa)  them  (v.i=).  In  these  two 
phrases  —  the  former  of  which  suggests  positive 
communication  of  truth  and  solicitude  that  the 
recipients  might  not  be  dispossessed  of  it,  and  the 
latter  protection  against  the  assaults  of  temptation 
— the  '  educative  care '  which  Christ  spent  on  the 
disciples  is  summed  up  (see  Expos.  Gr.  Test,  ad 
loc. ).  And  now  that  He  is  to  be  '  no  more  in  the 
world,'  He  prays  the  Father  to  keep  them  in  the 
name  of  Himself  as  Father.  '  To  be  kept  in  the 
name '  means  not  only  '  to  be  kept  in  the  know- 
ledge,'but  'to  be  kept  in  the  experience ' — there 
being  other  modes  of  relation  and  sensibility  to 
God  on  man's  part  besides  that  of  knowledge. 
That  the  disciples'  faith  in  God  as  Father  might 
be  characterized  by  assurance,  is  the  burden  of 
Christ's  prayer  (see  Westcott,  ad  loc. ,  on  the  title 
'Holy  Father'),  (b)  V.'^  .shows  us  another  aspect 
of  the  meaning  of  the  Divine  '  keeping ' :  '  I  pray 
not  that  thou  shouldest  take  them  out  of  the  world, 
but  that  thou  shouldest  keep  them  from  (Gr.  '  out 
of)  the  evil'  (RV  'evil  one').  Whether  'evil' 
should  be  interpreted  as  masculine  or  neuter  need 
not  be  discussed  here.  The  point  to  notice  is 
that  the  experience,  and  the  only  exjjerience,  of 
Divine  'keeping'  which  Christ  by  His  example 
encourages  men  to  pray  for  and  anticipate,  consists 
not  in  immunity  from  adversity,  injuries,  suffering, 
sorrow,  and  death,  but  in  maintenance  in  a  con- 
dition of  certitude  with  regard  to  the  Father's 
love  and  of  perseverance  in  the  path  and  practice 
of  goodness — freedom  from  evil.  The  man  who 
does  not  lend  himself  and  the  man  who  does  lend 
himself  to  this  keeping  are  described  in  12^* :  '  He 
that  loveth  his  life  loseth  it ;  and  he  that  hateth 
his  life  in  this  world  shall  keep  (<pv\&<T(Tu)  it  unto 
life  eternal '  RV). 

Literature. — Moulton-Geden,  Concord,  to  Gr.  Test.;  Grimm- 
Thayer,  Gi:  Lex. ;  Westcott,  Com.  on  John ;  Expos.  Gr.  Test. 
and  works  referred  to  there.  A.  B.  MACAULAY. 

KENOSIS — The  word  K^yuaLs  is  not  itself  found 
in  the  NT,  but  the  verb  Kcvdoi  to  empty,  to  make 
empty,  occurs  in  Ph  2',  where  AV  renders  '  made 
himself  of  no  reputation,'  but  the  KV  correctly 
'emptied  himself  (see  Lightfoot's  Com.  in  loc.,  and 
Grimm-Thayer's  Greek-Enrjlish  Lexicon).  It  is 
disputed  among  theologians  as  to  the  extent  to 
which  the  Son  of  God  stripped  Himself  of  His 
Divine  prerogatives,  but  it  is  not  necessary  here  to 
discuss  these  ditt'erences,  as  the  purpose  of  this 
article  is  only  to  collect  the  evidences  the  Gospels 
aflbrd  of  the  actual  conditions  of  the  Incarnation. 
But  two  questions  may  here  be  very  briefly  touched 
on  before  we  pass  to  tliis  subject. 

(1)  We  may  glance  at  the  description  of  this 
Keno.iis  of  the  Son  of  God  found  in  the  Apostolic 
writings.  The  passage  in  Philippians  (2''-')  lays 
stress  on  the  .surrender,  on  the  one  hand,  oi  the  form 
of  God  ('the  glories,  the  prerogatives  of  deity,' 
Lightfoot),  of  equ.ality  with  (Jod  ;  .and  the  assuiil]i- 
tion,  on  the  other  haiid,  of  the  form  of  a  servant, 


the  likeness  of  man,  self-humiliation  and  obedience 
'  even  unto  death,  yea,  the  death  of  the  cross.'  In 
2  Co  8"  St.  Paul  describes  the  Kenosis  as  the  aban- 
donment of  wealth  for  poverty  (the  Divine  for  the 
human  mode  of  existence).  jj(-In  four  pregnant  state- 
ments, in  which  the  Christian  salvation  is  brought 
into  most  intimate  relation  with  the  humiliation 
of  the  Son  of  God,  this  Kenosis  is  more  fully  de- 
fined :  '  God,  sending  his  own  Son  in  the  likeness  of 
sinful  flesh  [He  shared  the  flesh,  but  not  the  sin], 
condemned  sin  in  the  flesh  '  (Ro  8-') ;  '  God  sent  forth 
his  Son,  born  of  a  woman,  born  under  the  law' 
(Gal  A*)  ;  '  Him  who  knew  no  sin  he  made  to  be 
sin  on  our  behalf  '  [the  penalty  of  sin  was  endured 
by  the  sinless  for  the  sinful  (2  Co  S^')] ;  '  Christ 
redeemed  us  from  the  curse  of  the  law,  having  be- 
come a  curse  for  us '  [Christ  as  the  sacrificial  victim 
'  became  in  a  certain  sense  the  impersonalion  of 
the  sin  and  of  the  curse,'  Lightfoot  on  Gal  3'']. 
The  writer  of  the  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews  lays 
emphasis  on  the  participation  of  the  Son  of  God  in 
flesh  and  blood,  in  order  that  He  might  be  capable 
of  dying  (2") ;  on  His  experience  of  temptation  as 
enabling  Him  to  sympathize  with  and  succour  the 
tempted  (2'^  4'^)  ;  on  the  obedience  He  learned  by 
sufi'ering  (5*).  The  prologue  to  John's  Gospel  may 
be  regarded  as  Apostolic  interpretation  ;  and  there 
the  Kenosis  is  described  in  the  words  'and  the 
Word  became  flesh  '  (1",  see  Westcott  in  loco).  It 
is  the  intention  of  all  these  statements  to  affirm 
the  complete  reality  of  the  manhood  of  Jesus. 

(2)  We  may  glance  at  the  attempts  to  define 
theologically  the  process  of  the  Incarnation  in  the 
Kenotic  theory,  '  which  seeks  to  make  the  man- 
hood of  Christ  real  by  representing  the  Logos  as 
contracting  Himself  within  human  dimensions  and 
literally  Ijecoming  man '  (Bruce's  The  Humiliation 
of  Christ,  p.  136.  This  lecture  contains  the  best 
account  in  English  of  the  modern  Kenotic  theories. 
Bruce  distinguishes  four  types,  the  absolute  dual- 
istic,  the  absolute  metamorphic,  the  absolute  seini- 
inetamorphie,  the  real  but  relative.  The  differences 
in  these  theories  concern  two  points,  the  degree  in 
which  the  Logos  laid  aside  the  Divine  attributes 
of  omnipresence,  omnipotence,  and  omniscience  in 
order  to  become  man,  and  the  relation  between  the 
Logos  and  the  human  soul  of  Christ,  as  retaining 
distinctness,  or  as  becoming  identical.  As  regards 
the  first  point,  the  theories  are  absolute  or  relative  ; 
asregardjs  the  second,  dualistic,  metamorphic,  senii- 
metamorphic).  Of  the  speculative  attempts  to 
formulate  the  doctrine  of  the  Incarnation,  Ritschl 
says  that  '  what  is  taught  under  the  head  of  the 
Kenosis  of  the  Divine  Logos  is  pure  mythology' 
{.Tustiflcation  and  Reconciliation,  pp.  409-411). 
Without  endorsing  the  terms  of  this  condemnation, 
the  jjresent  writer  may  repeat  what  he  has  else- 
where written  on  this  matter.  'The  Kenotic 
theories  are  commendable  as  attempts  to  do  justice 
to  the  historical  personality  of  Jesus,  wOiile  assum- 
ing the  ecclesiastical  dogma ;  but  are  unsatisfac- 
tory in  putting  an  undue  strain  on  the  passages  in 
the  New  Testament  which  are  supposed  to  teach 
the  doctrine,  and  in  venturing  on  bold  assertions 
about  the  constitution  of  deity,  which  go  far 
beyond  the  compass  of  our  intelligence  in  these 
high  matters '  ( The  Eitschlian  Tlieology,  p.  271  note). 
The  study  of  the  facts  of  the  life  or  Jesus  proves 
undoubtedly  the  Kenosis,  of  which  none  of  these 
theories  otters  a  satisfactory  explanation,  as  partly 
the  data—i\\e  inner  life  of  the  Gfodhead— lie  beyond 
our  reach.  We  now  confine  ourselves  to  the  data 
offered  in  the  Gospels.  (A  useful  summary  of  the 
data,  although  by  no  means  exhaustive,  will  be 
found  in  i'un-f's  I>i.9.trrfrifiim.\',  '  Tlii'  Ccinsfiousnpss 
of  ..ur  L..1.I  in  His  Mort.'il  Life.'  A.lamson  in  The 
3fiii,n„  CJirist  deals  very  (linionulilv  "itli  ull  the 
data  bearing  on  the  knowleagc  of  Ciirist). 


928 


KENOSIS 


KENOSIS 


The  Kenotic  theories  concern  themselves  speci- 
ally with  the  three  metaphysical  attributes  of 
God,  manifest  in  His  transcendent,  yet  im- 
manent, relation  to  the  world  —  omnipresence, 
omnipotence,  omniscience.  The  Gospels  show 
that  Jesus  possessed  none  of  these.  He  was 
localized  in  a  body  (Jn  1"  '  tabernacled  among 
us'),  and  moved  from  place  to  place  as  His 
mission  required.  The  cure  of  the  nobleman's 
son  (Jn  4°°)  does  not  prove  omnipresence,  but  is 
explicable  as  an  act  of  faith  in  God.  In  the 
absence  of  their  Master  the  disciples  become  faith- 
less (Mk  9'"),  and  He  has  to  return  to  them  to 
restore  their  confidence.  In  His  farewell  discourse 
He  promises  His  constant  presence  as  a  future  gift 
( Jn  14'8- 19),  and  fulfils  His  promise  after  the  | 
Kesurrection  (Mt  28™).  His  miracle.s  do  not  prove  | 
omnipotence,  as  they  were  wrought  in  dependence 
on,  with  prayer  to,  God  (Mk  9^;  Jn  11«-  ■■-),  were 
restrained  by  unbelief  (Mt  13**),  seemingly  involved 
physical  strain  (Mk  5™),  and  sometimes  were  ac- 
companied bv  means  of  cure  (Mk  T^"** ;  see  The 
Expositor,  6tn  series,  vol.  vi.,  '"The  Function  of  the 
Miracles').  Jesus  never  claimed  omnwciencf.  He 
claimed  to  know  the  Father  as  no  other  knew  Him 
(Mt  11"),  but,  on  the  other  hand,  He  confessed  that 
His  knowledge  as  Son  was  limited  in  so  important 
a  matter  as  the  time  of  His  Return  (Mt  24^  RV, 
Mk  1332).  The  express  distinction  between  the 
knowledge  of  the  Son  and  of  the  Father  made  in 
this  utterance  disproves  the  view  sometimes  ad- 
vanced, that  the  Son's  perfect  knowledge  of  the 
Father  must  include  a  knowledge  of  aU  the  Father 
knows.  It  is  the  character,  purpose,  and  activity 
of  God  as  Father  that  the  Son  knows  and  reveals. 
When  Jesus  Himself  thus  confesses  ignorance  in  a 
matter  affecting  Himself  so  closely,  it  is  not  rever- 
ence to  claim  for  Him  universal  knowledge  regard- 
ing such  matters  as  the  date  and  authorship  of  Old 
Testament  writings,  the  causes  of  disease,  the 
course  of  events  in  the  remote  future  ;  nor  is  it 
any  lack  of  homage  and  devotion  to  acknowledge 
the  other  evidences  of  limitation  of  knowledge  the 
Gospels  offer.  He  made  a  mistake  regarding  the 
barren  fig-tree  (Mk  11");  He  was  sometimes  sur- 
prised and  disappointed  [see  art.  SURPRISE]  (Mt 
8W26*,  Mk  1«  2^-  =  e"  7"-  ^-  ^  8'-,  Lk  2«) ;  informa- 
tion came  to  Him  by  the  ordinary  channels  of 
hearing  and  seeing  (Mt  4'2-  "  W-  is,  Mk  I''-  »*  2", 
Jn  41-'),  and  He  sought  it  in  this  way  (Jn  l^*  9^', 
Mk  S^-'^^,  Lk  4").  He  asked  questions  not  rlietori- 
caUy,  but  because  He  desired  an  answer  (Mt  161^-  ■*, 
Lk  8*>,  Jn  11").  He  developed  mentally  (Lk  2^-), 
and  during  His  ministry  learned  b;^  experience  (Jn 
2-';  the  verb  used  is  yiviiaKiiv,  see  Westcott  in  loco). 
He  sought  guidance  from  God  in  prayer  (Lk  51"*  6i= 
918. 28  1021 )_  xhe  necessity  of  the  cup  offered  by  His 
Father's  will  was  not  at  first  evident  to  Him  (Mt 
26'9)_  and,  when  convinced  that  His  Father's  will 
required  it.  He  was  not  sure  that  His  strength  to 
drink  it  would  endure  (v.-"- ;  cf.  He  5'-  *).  His  cry  of 
desolation  (Mt  27'"")  on  the  cross  was  not  only  the 
culmination  of  His  Passion,  but  in  being  this  it  was 
also  the  temporary  obscuration  of  His  knowledge 
of  the  Father,  who  in  that  moment  had  not  for- 
.saken  Him.  Instances  of  supernatural  knowledge 
are  found  in  the  Gospels.  Some  of  these  :  the 
getting  of  the  ass  (Mt  21"),  and  of  the  upper  room 
(26'"""),  the  finding  of  the  money  in  tlie  fish's 
mouth  (17"),  are  only  apparent,  and  allow  an- 
other explanation.  The  statement  to  the  woman 
of  Samaria  about  the  number  of  her  husbands  (.In 
417. 18)  ig  ygry  perplexing  ;  and  possibly,  as  the  con- 
versation was  probably  reported  by  the  woman,  may 
have  been  made  more  definite  by  her  guilty  con- 
science than  it  actually  was.  even  as  she  ex- 
aggerates in  her  account  of  what  Christ  had  told 
her  (v.^).     The  command  to  the  disciples  about 


casting  their  net  (Lk  5')  was  probably  an  act  of 
faith  in  God,  even  as  the  command  to  the  storm 
(Mk  4'9)_  The  other  cases  fall  into  two  classes: 
prophetic  anticipations  (His  own  death  and  resur- 
rection, the  doom  of  Jerusalem),  or  exercises  of  an 
exceptional  moral  insight  and  spiritual  discern- 
ment. We  may  admit  occasionally,  for  the  fulfil- 
ment of  His  vocation,  miraculous  knowledge  as 
well  as  power,  without  the  constant  possession  of 


moral  life ;  and  the  development  of  the  latter 
involves  necessarily  some  limitations  in  the  former. 
Omniscience  cannot  be  '  tempted  in  all  points  even 
as  we  are,'  nor  can  it  exercise  a  cliildlike  faith  in 
God  such  as  Jesus  calls  us  to  exercise  along  with 
Hira.  Moral  and  religious  reality  is  excluded  from 
the  historj'  of  Jesus  by  the  denial  of  the  limitation 
of  His  knowledge.  He  was  tempted  (see  articles 
on  Temptation  and  Struggles  of  Soul).  In 
the  Wilderness  the  temptation  was  possible,  because 
He  had  to  learn  by  experience  the  uses  to  which 
His  miraculous  powers  might  legitimately  be  put, 
and  the  proper  means  for  the  fulfilment  of  His 
vocation.  AVithout  taint  or  flaw  in  His  own 
nature,  the  expectations  of  the  people  regarding 
the  Messiah,  and  the  desires  they  pressed  upon 
Him,  afforded  the  occasions  of  temptation  to  Hiiu. 
The  necessity  of  His  own  sacrifice  was  not  so 
certain  to  Him  as  to  exclude  the  possibility  of  the 
temptation  to  escape  it.  That  Jesus  was  Himself 
conscious  of  being  still  the  subject  of  a  moral 
discipline  is  suggested  by  His  refusal  of  the  epithet 
'good'  (Mk  10'*).  Although  morally  tempted  and 
developing,  Jesus  betrays  no  sign  of  penitence  for 
sin  or  failure,  and  we  are  warranted  in  atfirming 
that  He  was  tempted  without  sin,  and  in  His 
development  knew  no  sin.  But  that  perfection 
would  have  been  only  a  moral  semblance  had  there 
been  no  liability  to  temptation  and  no  limitation 
of  knowledt'e.  As  Son  of  God,  He  lived  in  depend- 
ence on  God  (Mt  11"")  and  submission  to  Him  (v.", 
Mt  26"').  It  is  the  Fourth  Gospel  that  throws  into 
special  prominence  this  feature  (Jn  3**  5i''  ™  8^  15i' 
17'- ").  The  Son  delivers  the  words  and  performs 
the  deeds  given  by  the  Father.  There  are  a  few 
utterances  given  in  this  Gospel  which  express  a 
sense  of  loss  for  Himself  and  His  disciples  in  the 
separation  from  the  Father  that  His  earthly  life 
involves  (Jn  U^),  a  desire  for  the  recovery  of  the 
former  conditions  of  communion  (17^),  and  an  ex- 
pectation of  gain  in  His  return  to  the  Father 
Jj4i9.20)  Jesus  was  subject  to  human  emotion  : 
He  groaned  (Jn  U^"-  ^),  sighed  (Mk  7"  8'-=),  wept  at 
the  grave  of  Lazarus  (Jn  11^)  and  over  Jerusalem 
(Lk  IS*"  19*1,  Mt23'').  He  endured  poverty  (Mt 
8=»,  Lk  9^),  labour  (Mk  6^),  weariness  (Jn  4«,  Mt 
21'),  weakness  (Mt  27'-),  hunger  (Mt  4=  21'"),  thirst 
(Jn  4''  19=«),  pain  (Mt  21^^),  and  death  (Mt  27», 
Jn  19*').  Some  have  conjectured  from  the  evi- 
dence of  Jn  19**  that  He  died  literally  of  a  broken 
heart  (see  Farrar's  Life  of  Christ,  note  at  the  end 
of  chap.  Ixi.).  This  Kenosis  did  not  obscure  His 
moral  insight  and  spiritual  discernment ;  did  not 
involve  any  moral  defect  or  failure,  any  religious 
distrust ;  did  not  weaken  or  narrow  His  love,  mercy, 
or  grace  ;  did  not  lower  His  authority,  or  lessen 
His  efficiency  as  Revealer  of  God  and  Redeemer  of 
men ;  but,  on  the  contrary,  it  was  necessary,  for  only 
under  such  human  conditions  and  limitations  could 
He  fulfil  His  mission,  deliver  His  message,  present 
His  sacrifice,  and  effect  His  salvation.  That  He 
might  receive  the  name  of  Saviour  and  Lord,  which 
is  above  every  other  name.  He  must  empty  Himself. 

Liddon,  SL; 


KERIOTH 


KINDNESS 


KERIOTH.— See  Judas  Iscariot. 

KEYS The  word  (K\els)  occurs  6  times  in  the 

New  Testament,  twice  in  the  Synoptic  Gospels,  and 
4  times  in  Kevelation.  In  Lie  IP-  Jesus  upbraids 
the  lawyers  on  the  ground  that  they  have  '  taken 
away  the  key  of  knowledge,'  the  instrument  by 
which  entrance  into  knowledge  could  be  obtained, 
and  thereby  hindered  the  people  from  the  privilege 
which  should  have  been  theirs.  This  they  had 
done  bjr  substituting  a  false  confidence  in  the 
wrong  kind  of  knowledge,  with  the  result  that  the 
right  kind  was  ignored  and  forgotten.  The  know- 
ledge from  whicli  the  peoiile  are  thus  excluded  is 
'  that  of  tlie  way  of  «ilvation  '  (Plummcr),  or,  more 
profoundly,  that  knowledge  of  tlic>  Lord,  for  lack  of 
which  the  'people  |ierish  '  (lids  ('■),  tn  s^ek  which 
they  had  been  urged  by  th.'  ],i.,|,lh'i~  k  t.  .In  17^). 

InMt  IG'"  the  word  is  ii^r.l  .i-.n i.iiihorically, 

in  the  address  to  Peter  :  '  I  \\  ill  i;i\e  imlo  thee  the 
keys  of  the  kingdom  of  liea\en.'  The  apparent 
limitation  of  the  promise  to  one  Apostle  is  to  be 
controlled  by  the  repetition  of  the  following  and 
interpretive  clause  addressed  to  the  Apostles  in 
general  in  Mt  18'*.  The  keys  are  to  be  intrusted 
to  Peter  as  to  a  steward  of  the  house  (and  in  like 
manner  to  the  Apostles  in  general),  to  whom  might 
be  given  the  power  of  locking  and  unlocking,  but 
not  of  deciding  who  did  or  did  not  belong  to 
the  household  (Weiss).  The  significance  of  this 
promise  would  be  fully  met  if  it  announced  the 
effectual  proclamation,  tlirongli  the  Apostles,  of 
the  gospel  by  nicins  iif  wliirli  (be  l)i'liL'V(;r  obtains 
entrance  into  tlir  kiiiuiliijii.  (in  iIh;  passage  as  a 
whole  see  artt.  C.ksauea  ruiMi-ri,  p.  249,  and 
Peter. 

In  Rev  1'*  the  Son  of  Man  in  John's  vision  says  : 
'I  have  the  keys  of  tleath  and  of  Hades,'  i.e.  con- 
trol over  the  entrance  to  the  realm  of  the  dead. 
The  figure  of  death  as  a  realm  with  portals  conies 
down  from  Ps  9'^,  and  was  freely  developed  in  the 
Rabbinic  writings.  The  '  key  of  death '  was  one 
of  the  three  (four)  keys  which  were  s.iid  to  be  in 
the  hand  of  God  alone.  Thus  in  S,ni/i,;/ri„,  ll.'i, 
'Elijah  desired  that  there  should  li"  ji\i  n  to  liiiii 
the  Key  of  rain;  he  desired  tliat  iIm  ic  .sh.iiilil  lie 
given  to  him  the  key  of  resurrcd  inn  ni  (hr  dr.ul ; 
they  said  to  him,  '"Three  keys  an-  not  uii.ii  into 
the  hand  of  a  representative,  the  kc-y  of  l.ii  ih,  the 
key  of  rain,  and  the  key  of  rr.^ni  icrtion  of  the 
dead."'  There  is  therefore  strong  signilicauce  in 
the  claim  here  made  by  the  Risen  Messiah. 

In  like  manner  a  claim  to  at  least  Messianic 
dignity  is  involved  in  the  phrase  in  Rev  3'  '  he  that 
hath  the  key  of  David.'  The  allusion  is  clearlj'  to 
the  promise  in  Is2'2--  '  I  will  give  to  him  (Eliakiui) 
the  key  of  the  house  of  David  upon  his  shoulder,'  ,-i 
passage  which,  according  to  ZuUich,  was  commonly 
referred  by  Jewish  commentators  to  the  Messiah. 

In  the  two  remaining  passages  (Rev  9'  20')  the 
use  of  the  word  ('the  key  of  the  pit  of  the  abyss,' 
'  the  key  of  the  abyss ')  depends  on  the  idea  familiar 
in  Jewish  cosmogony,  viz.  that  there  was  a  eoni- 
nmnication  between  the  upper  woi M  anil  the  nialei 
world  or  abyss  by  means  of  a  jiit  or  shaft ,  ilu' 
opening  to  which  might  be  conceited  as  i-overed 
and  locked.  According  to  Rabbinic  tradition,  this 
opening  was  placed  beneath  the  foundations  of  the 
Temple,  as  the  Moslems  hold  to  this  day  that  it  is 
to  be  found  beneath  the  Dome  of  the  Rock,  or 
Mos(]ue  of  Omar  (see  Gunkel,  Schtipfung  unci  Chaos, 
pp.  91-98).  C.  Anderson  Scott. 


KHAN 

—See  Inn. 

KID.- 

See  Animals,  p. 

64» 

KIDROK.-See  Brook. 

vo 

L.  I.— 59 

KIN,  KINDRED,  KINSHIP.-' The  antique  con- 
ception of  kinship  is  participation  in  one  blood, 
which  passes  from  parent  to  child,  and  circulates 
in  the  veins  of  every  member  of  the  fanuly.  The 
unity  of  family  or  clan  is  viewed  as  a  physical 
unity ;  for  the  blood  is  the  life, — an  idea  familiar 
to  us  from  the  OT, — and  it  is  the  same  blood,  and 
therefore  the  same  life,  that  is  shared  by  every 
descendant  of  the  common  ancestor.  The  idea  that 
the  race  has  a  life  of  its  own,  of  which  individual 
lives  are  only  parts,  is  expressed  even  more  clearly 
by  picturing  the  race  as  a  tree,  of  which  the  an- 
cestor is  the  root  or  stem  and  the  descendants  the 
branches'  (W.  R.  Smith,  A'.V-40f.).  This  concep- 
tion underlies  tlie  words  'kin'  {avyyc-rjs,  Mk  6-*) 
and  'kindred'  {(nryyeveta.  Lk  1''').  But  it  was 
Christ's  piirjrase  to  organize  suiiet\-  aric.vding  to 
another  conception  of  the  basis  of  unil y.  lie  made 
kin.ship  depend  not  upon  physi<al  i)ul  sjiiritual 
affinities  (Mt  12^8  etc.).  '  AlreJely.  in  the  spiritual 
religion  of  the  Hebrews,  the  iilea'  of  Divine  father- 
hood is  entirely  dissocial  ed  fiiini  the  hasisof  natural 
fatherhood.  Man  was  ereat.'d  in  the  image  of  God, 
but  he  was  not  begotten  ;  God-sonship  is  not  a 
thing  of  nature,  but  of  grace'  (liS-  41).  There, 
however,  Uie  sonship  of  the  nation  is  emphasized  : 
in  Christ's  teaching  the  personal  relationship  is 
brought  into  prominence.  Sonship  depends  on 
personal  faith  (Jn  1'-),  and  its  evidence  is  indi- 
vidual submission  to  the  will  of  God  (Mt  ]2«''-)-  In 
His  allegory  of  the  Vine  (Jn  15'),  Jesus  practically 
adopts  the  old  figure.  He  Himself  takes  the 
place  of  stem  or  root,  but  the  branches  share  the 
common  life  only  on  condition  of  an  abiding  faith 
(cf.  St.  Paul's  figure  of  the  olive-tree,  Ro  11"  etc.). 
The  ancient  kindred  of  blood,  with  its  narrow 
physical  limits,  gives  place  in  the  NT  to  a  fellow- 
ship of  faith  which  is  open  to  all  mankind.  See 
also  art.  FAMILY.  W.  EwiNG. 

KINDNESS.— The  NT  term  xpV^riTijs,  which  is 
i-endered  in  the  EV  both  by  '  kindness '  and  by 
'  goodness '  (once  in  Ro  3'-  as  '  good,'  following  the 
LXX  of  Ps  13  (14)  '•  3,  there  quoted,  in  which  xpvri- 
T-rjTo.  =  310),  nowhere  occurs  in  the  Gospels.  The 
quality  it  denotes,  however,  is  an  evangelical 
virtue.  Like  its  OT  counterpart  ncn,  it  is  attrib- 
utable both  to  God  (as  in  Ro  2*  et  al. )  and  to  man 
(as  in  2  Co  6<'  et  al.).  The  adj.  xpwris,  EV  '  kind,' 
i.s  found  once  in  the  Gospels  as  referring  to  God 
(Lk  6^'').  The  other  instances  of  its  use  in  very 
difi'erent  connexions,  as  applied  to  a  yoke  (Mt  II'") 
and  to  wine  (Lk  5^'),  though  such  use  is  a  natural 
outgrowth  of  its  root-meaning,  need  only  be  men- 
tioned. 

1.  The  Kindness  ofGn/l  in  the  Teaehinrj  of  Jesiis. 
— The  passage  in  whieh  Ciod  is  explicitly  repre- 
sented as  '  kind  '  occurs  in  Lk.'s  version  of  the 
loijion  of  Jesus  concerning  love  of  friends  and 
hatred  of  foes  (Lk  6-'-»'||Mt  5^-'^).  The  highest 
reward  attendant  upon  a  love  that  extends  to  both 
friends  and  foes  ana  is  ready  to  show  kindness  to 
all  men  \\  ithout  distinction,  is  that  thereby  men 
become  sons  of  the  Most  High.'  'Sons  of  your 
I'aihei  whieh  is  in  heaven,'  as  it  runs  in  Mt  5^, 
«onl(l  appear  to  be  the  primitive  phrase,  but  'the 
Most  High  '  (iii/'iffTos)  is  quite  a  favourite  name  for 
God  with  Lk.,  and  its  substitution  here  is  pro- 
bably due  to  this  preference  (see  Dalman,  The 
Words  of  Jesus,  Eng.  tr.  p.  199).  God  is  kind  to  the 
ungrateful  and  wicked.  In  the  Mt.  parallel  this 
benign  goodness  is  expressed  in  the  concrete  pic- 
ture of  sunshine  and  rain  bestowed  equally  upon 
the  evil  and  the  good,  the  just  and  the  unjust. 
Clearly  the  expression  of  an  all-embracing  be- 
nignity can  go  no  further  so  far  as  extent  is 
concerned.  'I'he  only  enhancing  possible  is  in 
connexion  with  the  gift  which  betoKens  that  be- 


930 


KINDNESS 


KINDNESS 


of 
eep  01  reterence, 


iiignity,  and  this  we  liave  in  tlie  great  say 
Jn  3'^  along  with  the  same  sweep  of  refe 
'  God  so  loved  the  world,  that  he  gave  hk  onlij- 
hcgottcn  Son.'  That  fontal  love  is  manifested  in 
the  kindness  (cf.  Tit  3^)  on  which  Jesus  lays  so 
much  stress  in  His  presentment  of  God  as  cm- 
Father,  a  kindness  going  far  bej"ond  the  providen- 
tial bounties  and  mercies  of  this  life,  and  concern- 
ing itself  with  the  profoundest  needs  of  sinful  men. 

If  explicit  statements  of  the  character  of  that 
now  considered  are  not  multiplied  in  our  Lord's 
teaching,  it  is  to  be  pointed  out  that  the  same  con- 
ception of  God  is  necessarily  implied  in  a  lonsider- 
able  group  of  the  parables — those,  in  partieiilar.  that 
illustrate  the  DiNine  grace.  Tlie  L;ieat  trili.^yof 
Lk  15,  exhibiting  the  Divine  coneerii  f(ir  man  as  to 
diroXwXo! ;  the  parables  which  show  how  royally 
and  wonderfully  God  pities  and  forgives,  whether 
that  forgiveness  is  gratefully  realized  (the  Two 
Debtors,  Lk  V™"*")  or  is  strangely  disregarded  (the 
Unmerciful  Servant,  Mt  IS^s-K)  ;  the  parable  of  the 
Great  Supper  (Lk  14""=^),  with  its  comprehensive 
'  welcome  for  the  sinner' — these  and  other  such  are 
fuU  of  the  wide-reaching  kindness  of  God. 

An  OT  basis  for  this  conspicuous  feature  in  Jesus'  representa- 
tion of  God  undoubtedly  e.xists.  Whilst  God  was  supremely 
known  in  Israel  as  King,  His  fatherly  relation  to  Israel  is  not 
obscurely  dwelt  upon  in  OT  writings,  particularly  in  the  pro- 
phets (.".<;.  Isaiah,  Jeremiah,  Hosea).  God's  goodness  and 
irraciousness  are  u'ratefully  celebrated  in  the  Psalms ;  witness 
the  ri'frain  of  I>s  I117,  'Oh  that  men  lyould  praise  the  Lord  for 
his  goodness  (l~r~)  ! '  Stro??  on  this  r'i\  ine  (jiiality  is  the  great 
characteristic  of  il  •  f  1  ■■■■-.'  •  '  ^-ini  Jahweh  and 
Israel  in  one  coi.  i ,  1    t..  Israel  being 

His  grace,  of  Isim  -a  of  Israelite 

to  Israelite,  lov.  1 1-  to  j"  and 

loyeto  one's  br.  i;,.  i     -    ;     ,.i,d  6^  6),  and 

both  are  made  imi«  ,,ii,>  l-  iii  a  i,-m  M,,st.  ,„  .i  s  latherly  affec- 
tion and  kindness  towards  Ills  pcuplu  (see  W.  R.  .Smith,  The 
Prophets  0/  Israel,  p.  160  fl.).  This  line  of  thought,  howeyer, 
regarding  God  was  arrested  in  later  Judaism  ;  Gotl's  transcen- 
dent kingly  greatness  was  emphasized  in  Jewish  thought  in  our 
Lord's  time,  and  His  grace  and  loying-kindness  had  fallen  into 
the  background.  Jesus  deliberately  chose  this  conception  of 
fatherly  kindness  as  the  one  predominant  characteristic  in  His 
reyelation  of  God,  and,  what  is  more,  proclaimed  this  gracious 
God  as  the  rather  of  all  mankind. 

No  difficulty  need  be  raised  as  to  the  reconcilia- 
tion of  such  a  conception  of  God  with  His  cliaracter 
as  'Rex  treraendae  majestatis,'  or  as  the  holy  God 
who  cannot  regard  wickedness  with  indiflerence. 
That  God  is  gracious  does  not  mean  that  He  is  an 
easy-going  God.  Moral  distinctions  cannot  be 
obliterated.  Though  in  Christ's  simple  language 
God  sends  sunshine  and  rain  upon  the  unjust, 
though  He  is  kind  to  the  ungrateful  and  wicked 
and  they  enjoy  great  prosperity,  it  cannot  be  other 
than  an  evil  thing  to  be  unjust,  ungrateful,  and 
wicked.  And  even  though  such  blessings  should 
aj)near  to  be  withheld  from  the  just  and  good,  it 
still  must  be  an  altogether  good  thing  to  be  just 
and  good.  Is  it  not  significant  that  Jesus  declares 
God's  kindness  without  any  qualification  whatever, 
and  shows  Himself  all  unconscious  that  any  diffi- 
culties are  thereby  occasioned,  that  there  is  any- 
thing requiring  to  be  explained  and  adjusted? 
The  parable  of  the  Unmerciful  Servant  displays 
God's  benignity ;  but  the  truculence  which  shows 
itself  unaflected  by  an  amazing  experience  of  for- 
giving mercy  iiiusf  nee.ls  lo.se  the  boon  which  that 
benignity  lie>t,,w.il.    The  conclusion  of  the  parable 

(Mt  Is    I  ,  \|.n uliut  must  needs  be ;  and  Jesus 

present-  thi'  .I.Hiiii  ,,f  the  'wicked  .servant'  as  a 
picture  of  Gud  -  dealings  with  men  just  as  directly 
and  sunply  as  He  .sets  forth  the  kindne.ss  of  our 
Father  in  heaven.  The  one  presentation  is  per- 
fectly consistent  with  the  other. 

Similarly,  the  problem  of  suffering  and  misery, 
which  times  without  number  has  evoked  the  cry 
'  Is  God  good  ? ',  is  not  allowed  by  Jesus  to  qualify 
in  any  way  His  declaration  of  the  kindness  of  God. 
It  is  not  because  He  ignore<l  the  problem ;  He  is 


Himself  conspicuous  as  the  Sutt'erer.  And  with 
our  Lord  the  Divine  kindness  is  not  involved  in 
doubt,  because,  as  we  say,  God  permits  so  much 
sutt'ering  amongst  men,  but  rather  that  kindness  is 
represented  by  Him  as  specially  called  forth  by 
human  misery.  God  is  particularly  set  forth  as 
viewing  the  sufferings  and  sorrows  of  men  with 
compassion  and  pity  ;  and  pity  is  simply  kindness 
brought  into  relation  to  suffering  and  distress. 
God  declares  Himself  'most  chiefly  in  she^^'ing 
mercy  and  pity'  (Collect  for  11th  Sunday  after 
Trinity).  So  also  it  is  significant  that  in  enforcing 
the  lesson  of  Lk  6^,  Christ  does  not  say,  'Be  ye 
kind,  as  your  Father  is  kind,'  but  (v.'*),  'Be  ye 
compassionate,  as  your  F'ather  is  compassionate' 
{olKTipfiui/).  And  what  a  vast  deduction  from  the 
sum  of  human  misery  would  result,  and  how  the 
problem  would  be  simplified,  if  everywhere  '  man's 
inhumanity  to  man '  gave  place  to  such  a  .spirit ! 

2.  Kindness  ns  the  Laio  of  Human  Life. — 'Love 
one  another'  is  the  new  commandment  of  Jesus 
(Jn  13^) ;  and  kindness  is  love  in  its  practical 
manifestation.  From  what  has  been  said  above, 
we  see  that  this  great  law  of  life  is  directly  enforced 
by  the  exhibition  of  the  loving-kindness  of  God  our 
Father.  This  is  the  case  notably  in  the  comment 
of  our  Lord  on  the  dictum,  '  Thou  shalt  love  thy 

nei.Lll'  '-.l:    ■•',''    I::    ''■   lllil)"  .■IK'HIN   '   (Mt  0^-»). 


sed  is  presented 


.nd  as  ; 


the  bonds  of  personal  affection,  or  of  social  unity,  € 
another  more  than  can  be  expressed  in  the  forms  of  legal 
obligation '  (W.  R.  Smitl),  up.  cit.  p.  161).  And  Jesus  quotes 
Hos  66  with  approx  al,  '  I  desire  mercy  (heseil)  and  not  sacrifice ' 
(Mt  12^) — a  passage  which  makes  that  quality  of  kindness  of 
greater  importance  than  worship,  and  worship  vain  without  it. 
In  heathen  religions  and  philosophies,  too,  ideas  are  found 
corresponding  more  or  less  to  such  a  conception  of  the  social 
bond. 

Further,  it  is  true  that  our  Lord  very  emphati- 
cally insisted  on  the  application  of  the  principle  of 
kindness  as  a  law  of  life  to  relations  of  men  with 
men  in  general,  and  not  merely  those  of  co-religion- 
ists and  people  of  the  same  tribe  or  country.  What 
can  equal  the  parable  of  the  Good  Samaritan  as 
helping  to  a  definition  of  the  '  neighbour '  to  whom 
the  service  of  kindness  is  due  ? 


Yet  the  OT  and  other  forms  of  teaching  are  not  without  traces 
f  a  wider  yicu  tli.in  tlic  s.Tilns  of  Christ's  day  would  allow. 
■he  .Ir.i  .  f :      ■  ..  r  in  the  land(asin  Lvl99f-, 


e\xr\  ]i.\  brother.' 

Oni  I  I  i  '  1  -ition  of  this  law  of  kindness  is 
pre  11      !  I!  i     ',  ifi'.ncris.     And  the  newness  of 

Hist.  mIiuiu  III  this  re-spect  appears  in  His  havin" 
estalili-le  .1  ihi~  ilutyon  a  firm  religious  basis  and 
given  it  in  i  ~  i  ntial  place  in  the  moral  conscious- 
ness of  men'  i\A'ondt,  Teaching  of  Jesus,  i.  p. 
332).  It  is  significant  that  the  judgment  of  men 
in  Mt  25''ff-  is  made  to  turn  on  the  performance 
or  neglect  of  the  acts  of  mercy  or  kindness.  The 
kindness  inculcated,  also,  extends  to  all  creatures  : 
and  it  is  to  expre.ss  itself  in  the  little  courtesies  of 
life  (Mt  5"  10'^). 

A  view  of  Christ's  ethical  teaching  as  a  whole 
makes  it  clear  that  the  stress  thus  laid  on  the  duty 
of  kindness  favours  no  loosening  of  obligation  to 
justice  and  fidelity  in  the  manifold  relationships  of 
men,  nor  does  it  do  away  with  the  duty  and  need 
of  punishment  when  that  obligation  is  violated. 
The  maintenance  of  just  and  faithful  dealing  does 
not  necessarily  involve  severity  and  harshness ; 
ratlier  it  is  itself  part  of  the  law  of  kindness  rightly 
considered.     Love  of  neighbour  and  of  enemy  is  as 


KING 


931 


laiiiis  of  justice  on  the 


all  that  ln\  r  i>  Ihr  ,,nly  .-;aisl;irl.irv  Ikims  l.ir  liun.aii 
relationsllilJ.^,  uml  imlecil  the  only  iiussiblc  buml  iu 
the  perfected  social  state.  See  also  artt.  LovE, 
Neighbour. 

3.  The  Kindness  of  Jesus. — The  perfect  embodi- 
ment of  this  kindness  in  human  life  is  scon  in  Jesus 
Himself.  'As  I  have  loved  you'  i<  tbe  .bibniuiiue 
counterpart  (Jn  13**  15'=)  of  tlie  Syii..|iii.-  •;;--  >iiur 
Father  is  compassionate'  in  tlie  I'lii'iKnuriii  dl  the 
Law  of  Love.  Tli.'  \vb..lo  0..s|.rl  |mrii;,iimv  >linws 
us  that  in  Jesus  tlic  l.iii.lnr^-  ;iii,l  pit  \-  ui  (in, I  fully 
dwelt.  Hisdealii.L'  \miIi  -i.lu.-.  :ni.\  -nllriin-  in 
all  forms,  His  atiiiii.li-  tow^mU  >iii,  His  sense  of 
social  disorder,  His  regard  tor  men  as  men  and 
indifference  to  class  distinctions.  His  whole  de- 
meanour, His  gracious  speech  (Lk  4™) — all  pro- 
claimed the  Divine  kindness.  His  fiery  denuncia- 
tion of  scribes  and  Pliari^ee^  (r-ec  Mt  i'i)  presents 
no  exception;  for  His  wutli  i-  tin-  wrath  of  love. 


htof 


and  the  denunciation 
the  yearning  lament  over  JeiusaliMu  (Mt  23^"''') — 
Jerusalem  in  which  Pliarisaism  and  scribisra  were 
specially  entrenched.  The  key  to  this  perfect  life 
or  kindness  and  love  is  found  in  His  own  words — 
'  The  Son  of  Man  came  not  to  be  ministered  unto, 
but  to  minister,  and  to  give  His  life  a  ransom  for 
many'  (Mk  lO'''').  The  declaration  of  vivid  and 
loving  remembrance  is  that  He  '  went  about  doing 
good,  and  healing  all  that  were  oppre.ssed  of  the 
devil '  (Ac  10»»).  J.  S.  CLEMENS. 

KING. — Tlie  primitive  Christian  Church  regarded 
herself  as  the  vassal  of  Jesus  Christ,  her  exalted 
Lord  and  King,  under  whose  regal  sway  she  liad 
been  brought  by  Divine  grace  (Col  1'^).  The 
current  belief  was  that  Jesus  Iiad  been  installed  in 
His  royal  ottiee  by  the  Kesurrei'linn  ;  in  that  (ivent 
God  had  made  Him  bolh  Lnid  aii.l  Clirisl  (  \(-  2="), 
and  in  it  liad  been  fullllh'd  the  ]irii|ilre(  y  n^^anling 
the  Messianic  King,  'Thou  art  my  -'.ii  :  tliis  day 
have  I  begotten  thee'  (Ps  2',  if.  A.-  I:;  i,  as  also 
another  prophetic  utterance,  'Sit  Ih.ai  ai  iii\  rii;ht 
hand'  (Ps  110';  cf.  Ac  2^,  I!ev  :;  ').  'riiiA  sove- 
reignty is  indeed  temporary  ;  it  «  ill  i  .,inr  |..  an  end 
with  the  final  overthrow  of  the  enemies  of  God  : 
'  Then  shall  he  deliver  up  the  kingdom  to  God, 
even  the  Father'  (1  Co  lo-^-^"*).  It  was  the  con- 
viction of  the  primitive  community  that  the  idea 
of  a  Messianic  kinudom  upon  earth  —  whether 
eternal  (Lk  F^)  or  of 'limited  duration  (Rev  20^f-)— 
as  it  gleams  tlirouj;li  tlie  Jewisli  Apocalyptic  and 
in  the  earlier   Messianic   liope,  had  at  last  been 

realized  in  the  Kiirj.h >f  (  hrist,  i.e.,  the  Church 

as  subject  to  lier  cxali.d  K'inu. 

Now  the  quoiioii  which  we  seek  to  answer  in 
the  present  artiil^  j,  i  In- :  —  /'/'/ .7^r-?»s-  Him<:rlf  iv 
His  lifetime  put  J^',. r,,,,/  ,,  r/„n„  /„/„■//,.■  ,Vr.,,;„i,ir 
King?  Here  wc  li^jhl  u|nai  a  innlijcni  wliicli  is 
vigorously  canva-s. 'I  I  alia.ni;-  llicohiuialls,  pailicu- 
larly  at  the  presiajl  day.  \\  hile  tliere  are  scholars 
of  high  repute,  Mali  .a-  \\  .llhausen  and  Wrede,* 
who  deny  that  ,1. -n-  thon-ht  of  Himself  as  the 
Messiah  at  all,  there  arc  utiu'rs  who  are  convinced 
that  He  was  in  possession  of  some  kind  of  '  Mes- 
sianic consciousness';  and  among  the  latter  the 
controversy  turns  upon  the  peculiar  significance 
and  the  specific  colouring  of  the  implied  claims 
and  expectations.  It  is  impossilile  in  tlie  space  at 
our  disposal  to  discuss  tlie  problem  in  all  its  bear- 
ings ;  for  the  details  reference  must  be  made  to 
other  works  of  the  present  writer,  t    The  task  of 

*  Wellhausen,  IJG^,  Comm.  zxt  den  Sifnopt.  Evangelien, 
Mnleit.  in  die  drei  ersten  Evangelien  (lOCiS),  89  ff. ;  Wrede,  Das 
Messia»geheimniss  in  der  EvangeMcn,  1901. 

t  Die  Schriften  dea  NT,  i.  i.  136  f.,  198  ff.,  476  fl. 


determining  the  sense  in  which  Jesus  assumed  the 
title  of  King  is  all  that  meanwhile  concerns  us. 

'I'hi'  prophecy  regarding  Jesus  uttered  by  the 
anucl  (diliriel  :'  'The  Lord  shall  give  unto  him  the 
throne  of  his  father  David,  and  he  shall  reign  over 
the  house  of  Jacob  for  ever,  and  of  his  kingdom 
there  shall  be  no  end'  (Lk  I'-'-),  was  not  brought 
to  fulfilment  in  the  lifetime  of  Jesus.  But  the 
writer  of  the  Gospel  of  the  Infancy  in  Lk.  would 
hardly  have  recorded  the  prediction,  had  he  not 
entertained  the  hope  that  its  fulfilment  was  but  a 
matter  of  time.  It  is  beyond  question  that  the 
earliest  Jewish  -  Christian  communities  believed 
that  Jesus  wouhl  come  again  in  kingly  glory, 
as  is  acknowledged  by  the  repentant  thief  upon  the 
cross  (Lk  23^-,  reading  orav  IXffji^  ei>  ttj  (JauiXeiq.  <rov 
'ia(r,\dai.  aor)'.  This  belief 
the    early 


as  prefiaal 
appeaas 
churches 
David  (K 


|i<iii    the    descent  of    Jesus  from 
d   ill   the  endeavours  which  were 

mad.-   I iMiah'   ii    by  the  construction  of 

gcn.-al      I  (Ml    I''-'",   Lk  S-^-ss).      These 

tabic-  V, .  n  i!  i.ii  inicicd  for  merely  academic 
or  tlcol.,  I,  I  |Mi|io-c,;  they  were  designed  to 
.suppoil  lie  r.iiiiriiiion  with  which  the  Jewish 
Cllri^liall-  (oiifronlcd  I  heir  unbelieving  com- 
Iiatriot-,  \i.'.  th.it  .l( -U-.  was  the  King  of  Israel. 
It  is  true,  indeed,  thai  ill  the  primitive  tradition 
of  the  life  of  Jesus,  His  Kingship  is  not  explicitly 
asserted.  The  acclamations  of  the  multitude  on 
the  occasion  of  the  Triumphal  Entry  into  Jerusa- 
lem, 'Hosanna  to  tlie  son  of  David'  (Mt  21''), 
'Blessed  is  lie  kiii-dom  ihat  coinetli,  the  king- 
dom of  our  jailici  |ia\id'  (.\Ik  11"'),  cannot  have 
been  more  than  a  hold  ani  i.  ipation  of  the  future. 
The  crown  of  ihoms  il.^. 'i  was  an  act  of  derision, 
to  the  trill' siLinihc.MKc  oi  which  the  soldiers  were 
blind  ;  wliilc  llic  iiiM  i  i|,i  ion  on  the  cross  (15=«)  was 
a  prediction  whiih  I'ilalc,  in  opposition  to  the 
wishes  of  the  ,1. w  and  ia  ignorance  of  what  he 
was  doing  (.In  1.'  constrained  to  set  forth 

in  all  the '.mil  I    In:  of  the  world.     In  point 

of  fact  the  ]iiiijnii\n  1 1  ami  ion  makes  it  perfectly 
clear  that  Jesus  dejirecatcd  and  even  disclaimed 
the  ascription  of  royalty,  or  at  all  events  that  He 
thought  of  the  dignity  as  something  to  become  His 
only  in  the  future. 

To  the  question  of  Pilate,  'Art  thou  the  King 
of  the  Jews  ? '  Jesus  ans\\crs,  according  to  Mk  15^, 
neither  yea  nor  na;/,  but  reiilies  only  in  the  words 
'Thou  sayestit.'  Is  this  an  affirmative?  St.  Mark 
certainlyVcMarded  it  as  such  (cf.  14''=),  but  St.  Luke 


shows 
under- 
them  ; 
'I  liir 
the  tl 
of  sed 


words  were  not  so 
if  ho  had  regarded 
could  not  have  said, 
■j:;'i:  a  claimant  to 
:i\  .■    Iini  II    ronvicted 


first  replied  evaMxch    a-  .,a.-iio,i   (Is^^'"'),  but 

that  afterwards  He  liankU  aMmid  His  cKaim  to 
the  title  of  King,  tlimi.jli  w  iih  llm  reservation  that 
His  Kingdom  was  'not  of  this  world  '  (IS^i").  Even 
more  clearly  than  in  the  Synojitists  we  see  in  St. 
John's  account  a  definite  purpose :  he  aims  at 
showing  that  Jesus  was  no  political  usurper,  no 
pretender  to  the  crown,  who  designed  by  force  of 


arms  to  de 
Rome,   and 

Notwithsta 


'I'lia!  .h 
Davidn-  nn-i 
giving.  To 
take  the  Ki 
countenance, 
multitude,  ti 


from  the  thraldom  of 
lie  dynasty  of  David. 
ions    tendency    of    the 

1,  we  must  .erant  that  in 

.,i,,ill\  will,  those  of  the 

i  |ll\    nillhflll  to  fact. 
;    "  --1    le^ioringthe 


olic\  oi  the  violent,  who  would 
1  liy  lone  (Mt  11'=),  He  lent  no 
wlicii,  after  the  feeding  of  the 
anted  to  make  Him  a  King,  he 


932 


KING 


KINGDOM  OF  GOD  (OR  HEAVEN) 


betook  Himself  elsewhere  (Jn  6'^).  We  shall  be 
asked,  however,  if  He  did  not,  on  the  occasion  of 
His  Triumphal  Entry  into  Jerusalem,  carefully 
organize  and  carry  through  a  demonstration  de- 
signed to  further  His  roj-al  claims.  In  answer  to 
this  it  is  to  be  said  that  St.  Mark's  account  of  the 
episode  (11")  cannot  be  taken  as  historical;  and 
■we  must  either  accept  the  narrative  of  Jn.  (12'-*-), 
according  to  which  the  demonstration  emanated 
from  His  supporters  among  the  people  and  was 
only  permitted  by  Him,  and  which  weakens  the 
impression  of  the  incident  by  its  quotation  from 
Zee  9' ;  *  or  else  we  must  abandon  the  hope  of 
winning  from  the  event  any  light  for  our  theme 
at  all.  Had  the  Triumphal  Entry  been  of  such 
capital  importance  and  of  such  a  striking  character 
as  St.  Mark  represents,  the  authorities  would  cer- 
tainly have  intervened,  and  the  matter  would  have 
figured  in  the  trial  of  Jesus  as  a  count  in  the 
indictment  [but  see  ENTRY  INTO  JERUSALEM]. 

In  the  discourses  of  Jesus  we  find  telling  argu- 
ments, both  positive  and  negative,  in  favour  of  the 
view  that  He  either  made  no  claim  whatever  to 
the  title  of  Slessianic  King,  or  that  He  did  so  in 
a  most  unobtrusive  way.  To  His  descent  from 
David,  if  He  gave  it  credence  at  all,  He  did  not 
attach  the  slightest  importance ;  indeed,  He  even 
sought  to  convince  the  scribes  that  in  regarding 
the  coming  Messiah  as  the  Son  of  David  they  fell 
far  short  of  the  truth.  To  all  appearance  He 
desired  to  eradicate  from  the  minds  of  His  hearers 
the  prevailing  idea  of  a  Davidic  ruler,  and  to  sub- 
stitute for  it  another  Messianic  figure,  viz.  the 
'Son  of  Man,'  the  'Man'  who,  as  Daniel  (7'")  had 
prophesied,  was  to  come  in  the  clouds  of  lieaven  at 
the  end  of  the  age.  This  '  Son  of  Man '  is  no  eartldy 
monarch,  but  a  Being  of  Divine  and  Iieavenly 
nature ;  not  one  who  by  means  of  a  revolution 
rises  from  his  native  obscurity  to  a  throne,  but  one 
who  descends  from  heaven  to  earth.  With  such  a 
figure  dominating  the  outlook  of  Jesus,  there  is  no 
place  for  a  Messianic  King.  It  is  thus  quite  in 
keeping  with  these  facts  that  He  announces,  not 
that  God  is  about  to  send  forth  the  Messiah,  the 
Son  of  David,  not  that  the  kingdom  of  David  is  at 
Iiand,  but  that  '  the  kingdom  of  God  is  at  hand.' 
Tlie  inir]3ort  of  this  message  has  been  dealt  with 
fl-uwlirn-:!  suliire  it  t»  say  here,  that  the  an- 
nMuuciiiiiiit  of  :i  idsniical  catastrophe,  of  a  new 
jMii,  ill  wlii.  ]i  till'  cxistiiii;  sway  of  Satan  shall  be 


..truy,. 


lie  all  in  all,  is  intrinsi- 


cally incompatible  with  the  idea  of  a  Messianic  King 
standing  side  by  side  with  the  Most  High.  Nor  do 
the  prophecies  of  Daniel,  when  rightly  interpreted, 
present  us  with  the  figure  of  a  Messiah.  Hence 
xt  is  by  no  mere  accident  that  in  tli''  \itt.T  uices 
of  Jesus  the  title  'King'  i~  ainiliiil  \.,  (I  mI  ;ilcine: 
ef.  Jerusalem  'the  city  oi'  the  .L:i'L'at  kin-  (Mt 
5'^),  the  parable  of  tlie  Unmerciful  .Servant  (IS-^) ; 
and  in  particular,  the  parable  of  the  Marriage 
Feast  (22'"-),  where  the  Messiah  appears  as  the 
King's  son.  It  is  only  in  the  description  of  the 
Last  Judgment  (2.5")  that  the  'Son  of  Man' 
appears  as  King — note  the  abrupt  change  vv.^*-"' ; 
probably,  however,  we  have  in  tliis  passage  remi- 
niscences of  some  older  parable,  which  had  to  do 
with  a  king  and  not  \vith  the  Messiah  at  all.  Only 
on  one  recorded  occasion  (Lk  22-'')  does  Jesus  inve.st 
Himself  with  the  /SoffiXcia,  but  that  is  for  the 
future.  This  occurred,  according  to  Lk.,  during 
the  Last  Supper, — a  circumstance  which  leads  us 
to  infer  that  Jesus  did  not  in  any  sense  regard 
Himself  as  being  a  king  in  the  days  of  His 
flesh.  What  He  has  in  prospect  here  is  simply  a 
participation  in  the  Divine  Sovereignty,  a  preroga- 
tive guaranteed  also  to  those  who  accept  Him. 


'  Op.  at.  I.  i.  163. 

t  J.  Weiss,  DU  Predigt  Jem  i 


jiJwAe  Gaffes  2  (1900). 


He  believes,  indeed,  that  He  will  occupy  the  chief 
place  aiuciiii;  them  that  are  His;  that  He  wUl  take 
the  seat  ni  liciii.nir  at  table,  ha\dng  them  on  His 
right  1..uhI  aii.l  on  His  left  (Mt  20=') ;  but  of  a 
Messianii.-  Kinyship  in  the  ordinary  sense  of  the 
word  there  is  no  suggestion  at  all.  If  Jesus  deemed 
Himself  to  be  the  predestined  Messiah  in  any  sense 
whatsoever,  He  certainly  thought  of  the  Messianic 
office  as  being  ditt'erent  from  that  of  a  king.  See, 
further,  art.  ISlEssiAH.  JOHANNES  Weiss. 

KING  OP  THE  JEWS.— See  preceding  art.. 
Divinity  of  Chklst  (p.  477''),  Names  and  Titles 
OF  Christ. 

KINGDOM  OF  GOD  (or  HEAVEN). -To  learn 
what  Jesus  meant  by  the  term  '  kingdom  of 
heaven,'  or  '  kingdom  of  God,'  we  must  go  first  and 
chiefly  to  His  own  words.  The  simple  fact  that 
He  employed  a  term  which  was  in  common  use, 
and  which  had  parallels  also  in  the  Jewish  Scrip- 
tures (e.g.  1  Ch  28*,  Dn  2"  4'),  does  not  justify  one 
in  assuming  that  His  conception  can  be  defined  by 
the  current  view  of  His  day,  or  by  a  study  of  the 
OT.  It  is  plain  that  He  might  make  use  of  the 
famUiar  term,  but  might  put  into  it  a  new  and 
higher  meaning.  Indeed,  it  is  quite  certain  that 
Jesus,  as  a  wise  teaclier,  started  from  the  beliefs 
and  longings  of  those  whom  He  sought  to  help, 
and  that  He  aimed  at  fulfilling  ratlier  than  destroy- 
ing. We  should  expect,  then,  to  find  Him  using 
old  terms,  but  pouring  into  them  new  meanings. 
Moreover,  the  thought  of  Jesus  in  regard  to  the 
kingdom  of  heaven  is  presented  to  us  more  fully 
and  clearly  than  is  that  of  His  Jewish  contempor- 
aries. Hence  there  is  no  occasion  for  approaching 
our  topic  indirectly,  either  by  the  way  of  the  OT 
or  that  of  the  Rabbinic  usage.  It  will  be  best  to 
go  at  once  to  the  main  source  of  information,  and 
seek  the  thought  of  Jesus  from  His  oa\ti  words, 
though  availing  ourselves  of  any  light  that  can  be 
found  in  other  quarters. 

1.  Survey  of  the  data. — According  to  Mk.  and 
Mt.,  the  memorable  word  in  the  first  preaching  of 
Jesus  in  Galilee  was  the  announcement  of  the 
nearness  of  the  kingdom  of  God  [or  of  heaven] 
(^|77iKei'  T)  /3o<nXe(a  tov  0eou  [or  rir  oi'pa.i/Qi''],  Mk  1'*, 
Mt  4") ;  and  in  the  last  interview  with  His  dis- 
ciples, on  the  evening  before  His  death.  He  still 
spoke  of  the  kingdom,  anticipating  a  union  with 
them  there  (Mk  U'^).  In  all  the  interval  tetween 
these  events  the  term  was  frequently  on  His  lips 
both  in  public  and  in  private.  St.  Mark  records  13 
instances  of  its  use  by  Jesus,  St.  Luke  34,  and  St. 
Matthew  48.  Its  central  importance  in  the  teach- 
ing of  Jesus  is  frequently  apparent.  Thus  the 
gospel  itself  is  spoken  of  as  the  gospel  of  the  king- 
dom (Mt  9=*) ;  the  Twelve  and  the  Seventy  are 
sent  out  to  announce  that  the  kingdom  is  at  liand 
(Mt  10',  Lk  10") :  more  than  a  third  of  the  parables 
are  explicitly  said  to  be  an  unfolding  of  the  truth 
of  the  kingtlom  ;  *  the  disciples  are  taught  to  pray 
for  the  (■(.niim;  of  the  kingdom  (Mt  6'°) ;  it  is  the 
preaeliin.' of  tin-  k in u'dom  of  heaven  that  terminates 
the  pi'iiod  of  the  Law  and  the  Prophets  (Mt  I P^ 
Lk  16"'i  :  the  kiiiudom  is  presented  as  the  suinmum 
bonuiii  1  Mt  i:i"-  'I  :  and  the  kingdom  is  the  great 
fact  of  tin-  fiitui-  {■.ft.  Mt25"). 

But  uhile  ihe  kingdom  is  thus  .seen  to  be  of 
great  si'jnilir.nMc  iirthe  teaching  of  Jesus,  it  is 
equally  obvio, ;  .   .  ;i iiing  varies  widely  in 

different  pas-  is  says  that  the  king- 

dom is  to  be  -  1  y  tliose  to  whom  He 

is  speaking  iT  :   'i",  that  the  righteous 

*  The  use  of  the  formula  o.a«.«  iar;.  i  ^«n>.i;«  r;»  o;p«>J., 
or  <iuoi»9ii  i  |S«.r.;iii'«  tJ.  tif^cti;  cannot  lie  at  once  attnbuted 
to  Jesus.  In  some  instances  it  has  no  manifest  coane^on  with 
the  thought  of  the  parable  (e.g.  Mt  20'  22=). 


KINGDOM  OF  GOD  (OR  HEAVEN)         KINGDOM  OF  GOD  (OR  HEAVEN)     933 


are  to  enter  it  when  the  Son  of  Man  shall  have 
come  in  His  glory  (-25^*).  At  one  time  Jesus  says 
to  the  Pharisees,  'Tlie  kingdom  of  heaven  is  among 
you'  {evThi  ii^iiy),*  and  at  another  He  teaches  that 
it  is  the  place  where  Abraham,  Isaac,  and  Jacob, 
with  all  the  prophets,  rest  and  are  blessed  (Lk  17-' 
13^).  Now  the  kingdom  is  thought  of  as  some- 
thing that  can  be  taken  away  from  the  Jews  and 
be  given  to  the  Gentiles  (Mt  21^^),  and  again,  it  is 
that  for  whoso  coming  the  disciples  are  instructed 
to  pray  (6'").  The  kingdom  is  thought  of  at  one 
time  as  a  good  that  can  Ije  obtained  by  seeking 
(6^),  and  as  something  to  be  slowly  developed  from 
within  the  soul  (Mk  4-'');  at  another  time,  as  an 
event  of  the  future,  realized  suddenly  and  by 
Divine  power  (8^»  9'). 

From  this  survey  it  is  readily  seen  that  the  term 
'  kingdom  of  God  (or  heaven) '  in  tlie  usage  of 
Jesus  is  not  easy  to  be  delined  ;  that  it  appears  to 
be  an  elastic,  poetic  symbol  rather  than  the  vehicle 
of  a  single  sli.uplv  lioiniilcd  cinni'ptioii. 

2.    T/ir    ,.,;,/, irj  /..rm    ,  if    thr     .  ,:/-,v,.,v,„,„._Witll 

the  excciitii.il  ot  t\v.>  p:i.ssa,;jcs  ill  Ml.  which  speak 
of  tlie  km-. Ion,  «ill„,m    ;ni>   .,  n:il  il  vni-  w..r,l  (Mt 


'kingdom  of  God,'  the  lonuer  greatly  predominat- 
ing in  Matthew,  and  the  latter  being  the  exclusive 
term  in  Mark  and  Luke.  It  seems  probable  that 
the  term  ordinarily  used  by  Jesus  was  '  kingdom 
of  heaven,'  and   that  for  the  following  reasons. 

(1)  It  is  the  prevailing  term  in  the  Logia  of 
Matthew,  and  the  Logia,  unlike  the  Gospels  of 
Mark  and  Luke,  are  regarded  as  directly  Apostolic. 

(2)  The  presumption  is  that  Jesus  used  a  current 
Jewish  term,  and  'kingdom  of  heaven'  has  a  dis- 
tinctly Jewish  colouring,  which  does  not  belong  to 
the  term  'kingdom  of  God.'  For  the  Greek  word 
for  'heaven '  in  this  phrase  is  a  jjlural  {tCjv  ovpavdv) 
in  accordance  with  the  Hebrew  usage  (c;?-^'  hidS?), 
but  contrary  to  the  Greek.  And,  furtlier,  the  ex- 
pression '  kingdom  of  lieaven  '  accords  better  with 
tlie  popular  Jewisli  belief  that  the  kingdom  of  the 
Messiah  was  to  come  from  above.  (3)  The  origin- 
ality of  the  term  '  kingdom  of  heaven'  is  favoured 
by  the  coiiH,liTati.,ii  (IkiI  I  lie  Smmil  and  Third 
Evangelist-,  sinrc  ih^y  \mo|i.  for  Cmlile  readers, 
may  nmri'  ron.lily  !"■  Ilioii^jlii  lo  li.'ivr  modilicd  a 
Jewish  expics-ioii  Ih.-m  tli.it  tho  .■iiithor  of  tlie 
Logia,  who  wrote  for  Jews,  modilied  the  term 
used  by  Jesus,  t 

But,  while  there  is  therefore  every  reason  to 
conclude  that  Jesus  ordinarily  used  the  term 
'kingdom  of  heaven,'  we  ci'it.-iinly  are  not  justified 
in  saying  that  Hi'  cli.l  iliis  (o  avoid  .speaking  the 
Divine  name  (cf.  i  >.  llolizin.uiii.  The.  Life,  of  Jesus, 
pp.  163,  164;  Daliuaii.  JJir  IT,,,-/.-  ,/^r'.9„,'p.  92,  Eng. 
tr.).  It  is  impossible  tu  sii|iiiosi' tli.-il  Ihcmanwho 
called  God  His  Father,  an. I  «  ho  loll  that  God  was 
always  with  Him,  the  man  who  Inouuht  God  near 
to  His  disciples  and  convinced  Ihi'in  lli.it  ITe  num- 
bered the  hairs  of  tlieir  lieads,  Ih.ii  Ihov  ,,,iil(l 
approach  Him  at  any  time  witlioui  piio-i  or  oui- 
ward  sacrifice, — that  such  a  man  .sIiihimI  tho  siipoi- 
stitious  re.-anl  for  (he  Holy  Name.  If  Jesus 
liabitiially  ii-o.l  I  hi'  (I'rm  'kingdom  of  heaven,' 
wliicli  \\i'  lii'lii'\i'  lo  have  been  the  case,  He  jiro- 
balilyiliil  -o  Iht.mi-o  1  hat  was  the  name  in  common 
use  aiiioir..   Mi     h,  ,,: .  : ,. 

3.  /•'"'-  '//it  of  the  term.— To  ascer- 

tain  till'  I  ill!,  I  ill  of  tlie  term  'kingdom  of 
heaven,'  ,1-  nii!  liv  Iomis,  we  may  well  begin  with 
a  passage  in  which   He  seems  to  give  a  general 


mterpretation  of  it,  viz.  the  second  and  third  peti- 
tions of  the  Lord's  Prayer,  'Thy  kingdom  come. 
Thy  will  be  done,  as  in  heaven,  so  on  earth '  (Mt 
6'").  The  second  of  these  petitions  appears  to  ex- 
plain the  first.  It  seems  to  imply  that,  where  the 
will  of  God  is  done,  there  the  kingdom  of  God  has 
come.  That  will  is  thought  of  as  being  done  per- 
fectly in  heaven  ;  and  when  it  is  done  thus  on  earth, 
then  the  kingdom  of  heaven  is  realized.  Accord- 
ingly this  passage  su.ggr-ls  tint  tho  fiiinlaincntal 
idea  of  '  kingdom  of  Ilea  Mu    i-  iho,///.  ,f  Cml, 

Another  pas.sage  wliii'h,  ihou'.jh  nol  using  the 
word  '  kingdom,'  seems  to  thu.w  liulit  oii  tlic 
conception  of  Jesus,  is  that  \.  Iiirli  lorouls  His 
answer  to  those  who,  wliile  He  «a.-  ti'.iihin'j  im  a 
certain  occasion,  told  Hiiu  that  His  luothor  and 
brothers  desired  to  see  Him  (Wk  8=i-»').  He  said, 
'Whosoever  shall  do  the  will  of  God,  the  same  is 
my  brother,  and  sister,  and 
people  who  sat  around  Ilin 
were  owned  as  His  khnt,- 
think  that  what  maih'  il 
them  also  members  of  l!i 
wliich  brought  tliem  noai   t 


*  See  below,  §  3. 

t  Note  the  bearing  of   the  words 
frequently  modify  '  Father." 


vhich 


r.'     But  if  these 
in.g  to  His  word, 

-  reasonable   to 

-  Iviiiilred   made 
Ion,.     And   that 

.\  .1-  the  doing  of 
I  ill  the  Lord's 
Trayor  seems  (oeNplaiii  llielii,,,  'kiiie.lom.' 

1,1  line  with  I  he  tlioii-ht  ot  I  he-e  two  ]iassages 
wliii'h  li,'i\e  lieeii  eoiiviilereil,  i-.  the  eoiK'e]itioil  of  a 
con.siderable  number  of  important  sayings  of  Jesus 
concerning  the  kingdom.  Thus,  in  the  Sermon  on 
the  Mount,  He  told  His  hearers  to  seek  the  king- 
dom and  the  righteousness  of  their  heavenly 
Father  (Mt  (,^).  Here,  as  in  the  Lord's  Prayer, 
the  kingdom  is  something  to  be  desired  and  sought. 
It  is  contrasted  with  food  and  drink  and  clothing, 
—things  that  the  (Jentilrs  seek,  and  is  thus  char- 
acterizeil  as  an  inwan!  an.l  siijritnal  good.  "We 
may  then  re-,'ii,l  the  wonl  ■  1  i'jhleousness'  as 
giving  lieie  the  .loniinanl  IhoiiL'ht  of  that  kingdom 
which  is  to  be  souglit.  Mot  oflicrwise  are  we  to 
understand  the  word  in  that  passage  which  deals 
with  the  young  scribe  who  answered  Jesus  dis- 
creetly (Mk  12«).  The  Master  told  him  that  he 
was  not  far  from  the  kiiii^dom  of  God.  Now,  in 
these  words  He  was  oli\iiiu-ly  1  h.nai  tcrizing  the 
moral  and  spiritual  stale  <if  the  young  man  ;  and 
thus  the  content  of  the  teiin  'kiii-dum'  is  here 
moral  and  sjjiritual.  So  in  the  parable  of  the 
Automatic  Earth.  As  it  is  (he  function  of  the 
earth  to  carry  forward  (he  ile\  eloimient  of  the  seed 
lodged  in  it,  so  by  analo'j\  il  is  (hr-  function  of  the 
heart  to  develop'  the  kiiiuihnn  of  heaven  (i^-^^). 
Manifestly,  then,  the  kiii;_'ilijiii  is  here  thought  of  as 
a  spiritual  prineijile  (..  he  leeeived  into  the  heart. 

Another  passage  in  which  the  content  of  the 
term  is  virtually  indicated  by  Jesus  is  the  reply 
which  He  gave  to  the  question  of  certain  Pharisees. 
They  asked  Him  when  the  kingdom  of  God  should 
come,  and  He  replied  :  '  The  kingdom  of  God  is  in 
the  midst  of  you'  (Lk  17-').  That  is  to  say,  the 
kingdom  is  already  present,  already  an  accom- 
plished fact.  It  h.ad  not  come  with  outward  .show 
and  nnisc,  but  quietly  and  naturally.    There  seems 

lo  1 nly  one  \v:i\  o'f  understanding  this  remark- 

ahle  iiii,'i,',i,i  e.  foi  the  view  that  it  refers  to  the 
future,  anil  ineaiis  that  the  kingdom  will  come  as  a 
surprise,  rests  on  the  identification  of  the  coming 
of  the  kingdom  with  tlie  Parousia  of  the  Son  of 
Man  (see  Wernle,  The  Brginnwgs  of  Chrlslianity, 
i.  62).  But  this  identification  cannot  be  made, 
for  the  Parousia  will  have  the  very  characteristic 
which  Jesus  here  denies  to  the  coming  of  the  king- 
dom. It  will  be  '  with  observation '  (iierli.  irapa- 
TvpM^m;  see,  e.g.,  Mk  13=^-2«---').  "VVe  must  hold, 
then,  that  the  utterance  of  Jesus  had  a  present 
force,  and  must  find  the  justification  of  it  in  His 
own  experience.  He  was  conscious  that  the  king- 
dom was  realized  in  His  own  heart,  and  was  to- 


934     KINGDOJt  OF  GOD  (OK  HEAVEN)         KINGDOM  OF  GOD  (OR  HEAVEN) 


■;inniug  to  l>e  lealizetl  in  His  disciples.  Thus  this 
passable  falls  into  line  with  those  in  which  Jesus 
suggests  that  He  meant  by  the  terra  '  kingdom  of 
heaven'  an  inner  spiritual  fact,  viz.  the  rule  of 
God  in  the  heart.* 

Now  these  passages  which  have  been  considered 
present  a  conception  of  the  kingdom  of  heaven 
which  Jesus  unquestionably  entertained.  That 
this  conception  was  central  in  His  usage,  and  must 
be  called  the  fundamental  content  of  the  terra 
'  kingdom  of  heaven,'  is  seen  from  the  following 
considerations,  {a)  It  is  the  only  explanation  of  a 
number  of  most  important  passages  which  is  sug- 
gested by  Je.sus  Himself.  (6)  It  is  an  explanation 
in  perfect  harmony  with  the  other  teaching  of 
.lesus.  For  that  teaching,  as  seen,  for  instance,  in 
tlio  Scniinn  on  the  Mount,  is  inward  and  spiritual ; 
an. I  -w\\  i<  tlie  thought  of  the 'kingdom  of  heaven' 
n-  till-  mil-  of  God  in  the  heart  of  man.  (c)  The 
I'oiuth  ( ;n-|Kl,  with  the  exception  of  two  passages 
(3'-''  is  I.  d"c-  not  employ  the  term  'kingdom  of 
lieaven' .  Im!  tljo  trrm  which  it  does  employ,  where 
the  Synii|itii^  h.nr  -kingdom  of  heaven,'  is  the 
equivalent  ot  ■  kin-. lorn"  in  the  sense  of  God's  rule. 
This  term  is  ■  eternal  life.'  That  is  the  summum 
bonum  in  John,  as  the  kingdom  of  heaven  is  in  the 
early  Gosi^els  (Jn  4"  S--'  6*  10^).  This  eternal  life, 
like  the  kingdom  of  heaven,  is  bound  up  with  the 
personality  and  mission  of  Jesus  (4"  6=').  Again, 
like  the  rule  of  God  in  the  Synoptics,  the  gift  of 
eternal  life  in  John  is  both  for  the  present  and  for 
the  future  (i^  12^).  Therefore  we  say  that  this 
early  interpretation  of  the  Gospel  which  we  have 
in  John  helps  to  confirm  the  ^iew  that  the  funda- 
mental conception  of  the  term  '  kingdom  of  heaven' 
in  the  mind  of  Jesus  was  the  rule  of  God.  {d)  And, 
finally,  the  correctness  of  this  view  is  established 
by  the  fact  that,  while  the  Synoptics  use  the  term 
'  kingdom  of  heaven '  in  various  other  senses,  these 
are  all  secondary  to  the  thought  of  God's  rule,  and 
are  derived  fi-om  it.  This  will  be  shown  in  the 
next  section. 

i.  Special  iises  of  the  term. — (a)  There  is  a  group 
of  passages  in  which  the  term  '  kingdom  of  heaven ' 
evidently  denotes  a  company  of  men.  This  is  the 
prominent  thought  of  the  expression  when  Jesus 
says  that  he  who  is  least  in  the  kingdom  of  lieaven 
is  greater  than  John  the  Baptist  (Mt  11");  also 
in  the  parables  of  the  Tares  and  the  Drag-net 
(1324-30.  «-50)_  The  tares  are  the  sons  of  the  evil 
one,  and  at  the  end  of  the  present  age  they  are  to 
be  gathered  out  of  the  kingdom.  They  are  there- 
fore in  the  kingdom  up  to  that  time.  To  be 
gathered  out  of  the  kingdom  means  to  be  separated 
from  the  sons  of  the  kingdom.  The  interest  of  the 
parable  centres  in  the  teaching  that  these  two 
classes— tlie  sons  of  the  kingdom  and  the  sons  of 
the  evil  one— must  remain  intermingled  until  the 
end  of  tlie  age.  Hence  it  is  obvious  that  the  king- 
dom out  of  wliicli  the  '  stumbling-blocks '  are  to  be 
taken  is  the  company  of  those  who  inwardly  belong 
to  God. 

Now,  while  the  foremost  thought  in  these  passages 
is  that  of  a  certain  company  of  persons,  these  per- 
sons cannot  be  defined  without  the  aid  of  the 
thought  of  God's  rule.  They  are  the  persons  who 
are  under  that  rule,  or  at  least  claim  to  be  under 
it. 

(6)  A  second  special  use  of  the  term  '  kingdom 
of  heaven'  is  presented  in  the  parable  of  tlie 
Labourers  in  the  Vineyard  (21«).     Jesus  said  to 


the  Jews  at  the  close  of  the  parable,  'The  kingdom 
of  God  shall  be  taken  away  from  you,  and  shall  be 
given  to  a  nation  bringing  forth  tlie  fruits  thereof.' 
In  this  case  '  kingdom '  cannot  mean  the  rule  of 
God,  for  these  Jews  were  hostile  to  this,  and  ob- 
viously it  cannot  iik-.mi  tli..-.'  wli.i  are  under  the 
Divine  rule.  We  tak  it  m  i  h.  .nse  of  <Ac /tif/A 
privilcfir,  and  hlessij.ij  -',-/,  th  J.ir.^  had  enjotjcd 
as  God'x  peculiar  /nnj'/'  .  It  was  these  tilings 
wliich  were  actually  taken  from  the  Jews  wlien 
the  gospel  of  Jesus  was  freely  proclaimed  to  the 
Gentries.  Another  passage  which  may  well  be 
assigned  to  the  same  category  is  the  first  Beati- 
tude (5').  The  poor  in  spirit  are  blessed  because 
'theirs  is  the  kingdom  of  heaven.'  It  is  now 
theirs.  They  experience  its  blessing  by  virtue  of 
the  fact  that  they  are  poor  in  spirit.  They  will 
doubtless  experience  it  in  much  larger  measure  in 
the  future,  but  they  have  a  foretaste  of  the  experi- 
ence now.  In  like  manner  they  who  hungered 
after  righteousness  began  to  be  '  filled '  by  Jesus 
at  once :  the  satisfaction  of  their  longing  was  not 
deferred  to  a  distant  future.  Again,  as  purity  of 
heart  brought  a  vision  of  God  to  Jesus,  even  in 
His  earthly  life,  we  cannot  dou'ot  that  the  promise 
of  His  beatitude  for  the  pure  in  heart  was  a  pro- 
mise not  merely  of  a  future  good,  but  <Jf  a  good  to 
be  enjoyed  in  some  measure  here  and  now. 

(c)  Another  special  use  of  the  term  '  kingdom  of 
heaven,'  and  yet  one  that  is  easily  derived  from  its 
fundamental  idea,  is  found  in  a  considerable  num- 
ber of  passages.  Thus  Jesus  said,  '  It  is  better  to 
enter  into  the  kingdom  of  God  with  one  eye,  than 
lla^•ing  two  eyes  to  be  cast  into  Gehenna'  (Mk 
9^').  Since  Gehenna  stands  here  in  contrast  to  the 
kingdom  of  God,  it  is  obvious  that  the  latter  term 
denotes  the  place  to  which  the  righteous  go  at 
death.  Again  we  read,  '  Not  every  one  that  saith 
unto  me,  Lord,  Lord,  sliall  enter  into  the  kingdom 
of  hen^•pn  :  but  he  that  doeth  the  will  of  mv  Father 
wlio  i~  in  k-iv.ii'  (Mt  7-').  It  is  plain  'from  the 
follow  iiiu  \  II-.-  tliat  Jesus  is  thinking  of  the  end  of 
the  ].i.  -.  ni  a_.  .  and  therefore  the  kingdom  of 
hea\ .  11  i-  Ian  a  -ynonj'm  for  heaven  as  the  abode 

of  th.-  Ml- 1.     It  is  used  in  the  same  sense  when 

Jesu^  > ay-  (hat  iii.inj-  shall  come  from  the  east  and 
the\\i--t,  anil  >it  ilown  with  Abraham,  Isaac,  and 
Jacob  in  the  kingdom  of  heaven  (8") ;  and  again, 
in  the  parable  of  the  Tares,  when  it  is  said  that  the 
righteous,  after  the  judgment  of  the  wicked,  shall 
shine  forth  as  the  sun  in  the  kingdom  of  their 
Father  (13«). 

Tlie  prominent  thought  in  these  passages  is  the 
place  to  be  occupied  by  those  who  are  under  the 
rule  of  God,  rather  than  that  rule  itself.  The 
kingdom  of  heaven  in  this  sense  alone  is  wholly 
eschatological.  It  belongs  entirely  to  the  future. 
Yet  it  is  by  no  means  the  Jewish  apocalyptic 
kingdom  even  in  these  passages.  It  is  open  to 
Gentiles  as  well  as  Jews  (8"- '-),  and  it  is  not  a 
kingdom  for  this  earth.  It  is  where  the  spirits  of 
tlie  patriarchs  are  now. 

Such  are  the  special  uses  of  the  term  '  kingdom 
of  heaven '  in  the  words  of  Jesus.  No  one  of  tliem 
furnishes  a  conception  that  binds  the  various  uses 
together  as  does  the  idea  of  the  rule  of  God. 

5.  The  ideal  of  Jesus  and  that  of  the  scribes.— 
Jesus'  conception  of  the  kingdom  of  heaven  was 
not  developed  out  of  that  of  the  seniles.  It  was 
the  antithesis  of  that.  The  story  of  the  Tempta- 
tion marks  the  definite  rejerfi.'ii  of  tho  impular 
idea.  For  there  would  have  I  .  .  n  im  jliuuI  for 
the  temptation  of  Jesus,  in  reu  i.i  to  ila  .M.^sianic 
office,  if  that  ideal  which  He  j-nt  away  a-  funda- 
mentally e\-il  had  not  been  the  ideal  of  His  i)eoi)le. 
His  ideal  was  born  out  of  His  own  inner  experi- 
ence of  the  rule  of  God.  Hence  for  Him  the 
kingdom  in  its  fundamental  idea  was  something 


KINGDOM  OF  GOD  (OR  HEAVEN) 


KNEELING 


935 


/•v.,/,» 


_   .if   (he  TalnuKl. 

;.'■  til''  ilcliverance 
iM'  liDiii  witlidut,  mir- 
.111  within.  The  Jews 
■  of  the  Messiah  seem 


to  be  realized  from  witliin,  quietly  and  gradually, 
by  spiritual  means.  The  scribes,  on  the  contrary, 
looked  for  a  kingdom  to  be  realized  from  without, 
in  a  spectacular  and  supernatural  manner.  This 
is  plain  from  certain  references  in  the  Gospel  itself. 
Thus,  when  Jesus  entered  Jerusalem  riding  on  an 
ass,  and  all  the  crowds  shouted  Hosanna,  His  dis- 
ciples thought  that  He  was  now  at  last  to  set  up 
a  visible  Messinnic  banner,  and  tliey  hailed  the 
coroire*/ kin'.;ilimi  <.f  llirir  fnllicv  D.'uiil  (Mk  11"). 
Thus  the  <'-i,il)li-liiiiri]t  ..I  tin-  kiim.liiiii  was  associ- 
ated in  tlirii  inin.K  »  n  h  oiiluanl  |"Mii]i.  Thedis- 
ciples  of  .l.-u-,  r\,  II  alter  tlie  resurrection,  seem 
to  have  thduuln  I  lial  Ihe  kingdom  was  to  be  set  uji 
in  some  iniiarii|(,u  ,  maiiner,  at  any  rate  it  was  not 
to  come  thrninili  Ihrm  (Ac  V"). 

This  idea,  of  the  Uingdum  is  c.nini.in  al.M,  in  utla  r 
Jewish  ^v^itings.      Thus,   < 
Solomon  yie  read  that  the  M 
ungodly  nations  by  llic  biv: 
He  alone  will  ota'l-1"  li   :l< 

the  same  purport    < 

Deliverance  by  'I, 

oi  Israel  by  Mosr  ,  i-  in  ., 

aculously,  and  not  at  all  fi 

who  are  alive  at  the  comin 

to  have  no  more  to  do  witli  the  establishment  of 

the  kingdom  than  the  Jews  who  are   dead,  and 

who  at  the  beginning  of  the  Messianic  age  are 

raised  up  to  enjoy  the  kingdom  (see  Weber,  Jiid. 

Tkeol.-  pp.  347-354 ;  Hilgenfeld,  Die  jiid.  Apoka- 

lyptik,  p.  86). 

Again,  the  popular  conception  of  the  kingdom 
of  heaven  in  the  time  of  Jesus  was  thoroughly 
political  and  national.  This  is  made  plain  by  the 
Gospel.  Thus,  e.g.,  the  third  temptation  of  .lesus 
presupposes  that  people  tliiMijlii  .f  tin-  kiipjilom  as 
a  political  organism.    For  llie  .iijji  ^(  ion  llial  .lesus 

might  secure  all  the  kin-.l -  i>\   ihr  woiM  and 

their  glory — He  a  rarpc'iilrr  tium  ihc  I  it  I  In  (..«ii  nf 
Nazareth,  poor  and  .i-  yrl  wiilioui  a  fnlluwiT 
would  have  been  ii-yrhdldi^icilly  iiii|iii~-^ilili',  li.nl 
not  the  popular  view  a^^oi-i.air.l  w.a  l,|-\vi,lc  p<iliii<-al 
dominion  with  Messialisliip  ;  and  it  would  not  have 
been  a  temptation  of  any  power  to  the  mind  of 
Jesus,  had  it  not  been  deeply  rooted  in  the  Jew^isb 
heart,  and  had  it  not  seemed  to  have  strong  sup- 
port in  the  OT  itself. 

The  Fourth  Evangelist  tells  us  that  after  the 
miracle  of  feeding  the  five  thousand,  Jesus  per- 
ceived that  the  people  were  about  to  make  Him 
kin^  (Jn  6").  This  word  is  capable  only  of  a 
political  meaning  in  this  place,  and  therefore  shows 
that  the  Galila;an  idea  of  the  kingdom  was  pol- 
itical. The  character  and  strength  of  the  popular 
view  are  seen  in  tlie  request  of  Salome,  seconded  by 
James  and  .Jolin  (Mk  10"),  and  in  the  question  of 
the  disciples  wlio,  after  the  resurrection,  asked  the 
Lord  if  He  woulil  now  restore  the  kingdom  to  Israel 
(Ac  1"). 

In  utter  contrast  to  this  view,  the  fundamental 
conception  of  Jesus  was,  from  the  first,  non -political 
and  universal.  The  rule  which  He  contemplated 
was,  primarily,  the  rule  of  God  in  the  heart,  a  rule 
which  He  doubtless  thought  of  as  transforming  the 
entire  outward  life,  social  and  political,  and  as  bring- 
ing it  into  harmony  with  the  Divine  rule,  though 
on  this  consequence  of  the  inner  rule  of  God  He 
gave  no  explicit  teaching.  He  dwelt  on  the  funda- 
mental spiritual  fact  of  God's  rule  in  the  heart. 
If  at  times  He  used  the  word  '  kingdom '  in  the 
sense  of  the  company  of  men  who  were  under  the 
rule  of  God,  He  did  so  without  a  suggestion  of  any 
political  organization.  And  when  by  the  '  kingdoiii 
of  heaven'  Jesus  meant  the  full  realization  of  His 
ideal  in  the  future  age,  it  is  manifest  tliat  His  con- 
ception is  wholly  religious  in  character  and  uni- 
versal in  its  scope.     Men  enter  the  kingdom  from 


the  east  and  the  west— all  who  have  shown  the 
spirit  of  Jesus  ;  and  what  they  inherit  is  eternal 
life  (Mt  8"- 12  25*"). 

We  conclude,  then,  that  just  as  Jesus  derived  His 
conception  of  God  from  His  own  experience,  so  it 
was  from  His  experience  of  the  rule  of  God  tliat 
He  developed  His  teaching  about  the  kingdom  of 
heaven.  This  teaching  was  akin  to  the  spiritual 
views  of  the  great  prophets,  but  w'as  wholly  unlike 
that  of  the  scribes  of   His  day.      See  also  art. 

ESCHATOLOGY,    p.    528  ft'. 

I.iTKi-.ATrKi:.— Wendt.    Die   Lefire  Jesti  [Teaehiiia  of  Jp.vjis], 


ExpT  iv.  (ISl.y  pp.  24S,  404.  ■     '     ' 

George  Holley  Gilbert. 
KISS. — Originally  a  token  of  attection  belonging 
to  the  intimate  conditions  of  family  life,  but  ex- 
tended to  nioic  p-iicral  rcl.itionships. 

1.  To  /,(.«  f/i'  lidiiil.^  \>  I  lie  expression  of  respect 
towards  seiiiniity  ami  hiulier  rank.  Children  in 
Oriental  lionies  are  tuuglit  to  rise  at  the  entrance 
of  visitors  and  salute  in  this  way.  It  is  also  their 
first  form  of  greeting  to  parents  and  adult  relatives 
before  being  kissed  on  the  lips  and  cheek  by 
them.  When  two  sheikhs  meet  they  kiss  each 
other's  hands  in  recognition  of  the  rank  held  by 
each.  Kissing  the  hand,  or  making  an  attempt  to 
do  so,  often  occurs  when  one  person  receives  a 
rnmniissinn  from  anotlicr  or  undertakes  to  do  some 
\\..ik  fui  liini.  Tlie  feiliii-  of  respect  originating 
ill  llie  ii'lalionsliip  of  cliiM  (o  |iarent  is  extended  to 

Witli  regard  to  tlie  salutation  of  Judas  Iscariot 
(Lk  22-"-''*),  to  have  kissed  the  hand  of  Christ  after 
the  interval  of  absen('e  caused  by  his  conference 
with  the  chief  priests  vtmVX  have  been  but  an 
ordinary  tribute  of  resiieri .  and  .in  ^mh  would  have 
escaped  the  notice  of  the  di  -  i|-l.-.  w  Idle  giving  the 
required  information  to  ili..~e  \\\,.,  had  come  with 
him.  If,  on  the  other  hand,  the  kiss  was  on  the 
face,  it  was  an  act  of  presumption  for  an  Oriental 
disciple  to  take  the  initiative  in  offering  to  his 
master  the  salutation  of  equal  friendship.  The 
jirodigal  son,  in  meeting  his  father,  would  be 
described  n^  ki~  in-  hi-;  hands  before  being  em- 
braced an.l  ki--ed  hi    ilie  kilter  (Lk  15="). 

2.  Anion-  iho  i  ..i  ilie  ,i me  age,  and  where  the 
relatioii.slii)is  ul  lite  peimitted  it,  the  salutation  is 
given  sometimes  on  the  lips,  but  more  frequently 
on  the  cheek  or  neck.  For  intimate  relatives  or 
acquaintances  of  the  same  sex  to  part  for  a  time, 
or  to  meet  after  a  period  of  separation  without 
such  salutation,  would  seem  strained  and  unnatural 
(Lk  15-").  In  this  form  of  greeting  all  thought  of 
superior  and  inferior  is  lost  in  tlie  equality  of 
affection  and  identity  of  interest  (Ac  2(?').  Such 
was  the  kiss  of  peace  or  salutation  of  good-will 
that  prevailed  for  a  time  in  the  congregations  of 
the  early  Church.  It  testified  to  the  new  bond  of 
fellowship  in  the  family  of  the  firstborn,  and  was 
called  a  hahj  kiss  (Ko  16'")  as  a  reminder  of  Chris- 
tian sainthood,  and  also  a  kiss  of  love  (1  P  5") 
made  possilile  by  the  love  that  had  given  them 
such  discipleship'and  communion. 

G.  M.  Mackie. 
KNEELING.— A  conipari.son  of  the  passages  that 
refer  to  bodUy  posture  seems  to  prove  that  kneeling 


KNEELING 


KNOWLEDGE 


is  nowhere  intended  unless  the  word  '  knee '  {ydn) 
forms  part  of  the  expres>.ii.ii.  The  word  wpoaKw^u, 
usually  tr.' worship, 'ahv;i\  ~,HMnii.^  |ii(istnition,not 
kneeling.  Kneehng  is  iil.-nnl  in  .i^  (^0  A  posture 
ot  homage.  In  this  sensr  ii  w.is  midfred  to  Christ 
in  awe  of  His  person  (Mk  lu'^,  Lk  5'),  and  in 
mockery  of  His  claims  (Mt  27-").  There  is  no 
instance  of  Christ  Himself  paying  this  homage  to 
any  man.  (i)  The  posture  of  a  suppliant  (Mt  17", 
Mk  1*).  In  classical  literature  the  suppliant  kneels 
and  touches  the  knees,  or  beaid,  of  the  per.son 
applied  to.  (c)  A  posture  of  prayer.  Lk  22^'  is 
the  only  instance  of  this  in  the  Gospels.  Among 
the  Jews  the  usual  custom  (and  in  the  Temple  ana 
synagogues  at  ordinary  times  the  invariable  custom) 
was  to  stand  at  prayer  (Mt  6=,  Mk  11=»,  Lk  Q'^-^^ 
Igiiff.  22''6  etc.).  The  jiravers  of  Solomon  (1  K  8"= 
2  Ch  6")  and  Ezr;i  i  l-^zr  ;r),  Imth  offered  kneeling  in 
the  Temple,  aw  iliuurlliri  ixteptional.  Beyond 
general  (and  .•iiiil.i^ii..n~i  .xprrssions,  e.g.  Ps  95", 
Is  45-^,  niiv  rt't'i'iinir,  (o  jMilicuIar  cases  of  kneel- 
iiij  ,irc  v.'tv  laic  in  tlir  ol'  (,f.  Dn  &%  In  the 
.lr\\j,|i  ('Imirli,  SlIuhioh's  ]irayer  is  the  only 
in~l:iiiir  piinv  to  Uii'  ('a|ilhity.  In  the  Christian 
Cluu\-h,  iii^-uuices  multiply  after  Pentecost  (Ac 
7C0  94U  .2(pi  2P).  This  may  have  been  due  in  some 
measure  to  Hellenistic  and  Gentile  influences.  In 
1  Ch  29-°  LXX  there  is  an  alteration  of  '  heads ' 
to  '  knees '  bowed.  The  description  given  in  Lk 
22-"  (not  supported  byil)  occurs  in  a  Gospel  of 
Gentile  authorship ;  and  Gentile  connexions  are 
found  ill  all  except  one  (Ac  Q*")  of  the  NT  pas- 
saji-^  .iliirnly  .|ui>tr(i.  If  this  supposition  is  cor- 
rrci,  iIh'  -|,ii:Hi  ol  kiii'i'liiiu  as  a  posture  of  prayer 
!i:i-  .in  ii:;  ii  I- I  iim  a-~.iiaatii>n  with  the  change 
liom  a  national  tu  a  iiiii\oisal  religion. 

F.  S.  Ranken. 


KNOCKING.  —  The  guarding  of  the  Oriental 
house-door  led  to  the  more  elaborate  jirecautions 
with  regard  to  entrance  by  the  city  gate. 

1.  During  the  daytime  any  unannounced  ap- 
proach is  felt  to  be  unneighbourly,  and  open  to 
suspicion.  It  is  regarded  as  an  act  of  thoughtless- 
ness or  implied  contempt  to  ride  up  to  a  Bedawt 
tent  from  Ibehind.  The  jjrivacy  or  domestic  life 
forbids  a  visitor  from  entering  even  the  walled 
enclosure  round  the  house,  without  first  knocking 
and  asking  permission.  He  must  wait  until  his 
call  is  heard,  and  the  bar  of  the  door  or  gate,  if 
closed,  has  been  removed  by  a  member  or  servant 
who  can  conduct  him  into  the  house. 

2.  It  is,  however,  at  night  that  the  difficulty  is 
greatest.  The  family  have  retired  together  into 
a  room  with  closed  doors,  and  on  account  of  the 
habit  of  sleeping  with  the  coverlet  drawn  over 
the  head  they  usually  are  unable  for  a  time  to 
hear  the  sound  of  knockin"  at  the  door.  In  the 
still,  elastic  air  it  is  also  difficult  to  localize  the 
sound.  In  this  way  one  is  often  disturbed  by  the 
loud  persistent  knocking  and  summoning  by  name 
resorted  to  by  a  neighbour  who  has  returned  late 
at  night  to  his  house  (Lk  12*').  The  large  wooden 
key  of  ancient  times  was  too  cumbersome  to  carry 
about,  so  that  even  one  who  had  the  right  to  enter, 
or  was  sure  of  being  welcome,  had  to  wait  outside 
until  the  door  was  opened  (Ac  12").  It  was  to 
those  already  familiar  with  such  oljstacles  and  the 
way  of  overcoming  them  that  Christ  said  with  ■ 
regard  to  a  higher  entrance,  '  Knock,  and  it  shall 
be  opened  unto  you '  (Mt  7'-  *)  ;  cf.  Rev  3="  '  Be- 
hold, 1  stand  at  the  door,  and  knock.' 

G.  M.  Mackie. 
KNOWLEDGE.  —  See    Consciousness,    Igno- 
rance, Kenosis,  Teaching  of  Jesus. 


THE  END  of  vol.   L 


Printed  hy  Morrison  and  Gibb  Limitkd,  Edinburgh. 


Now  Complete,  IN  FIVE  VOLUMES 

(Including  the   EXTRA  Volume  recently  published). 

'In  its  five  volumes  we  possess  a  splendid— nay,  an  unsurpassed — 
thesaurus  of  biblical  learning. '— Eecoed. 

Dictionary  of  the  Bible 

DEALING   WITH 

ITS  LANGUAGE,  LITERATURE,  AND  CONTENTS, 

Including  the  Biblical  Theology. 

WITH    MAPS    AND    ILLUSTRATIONS. 

Edited  by 
JAMES    HASTINGS,   M.A.,   D.D., 

WITH   TUB   ASSISTANCE  OF 

JOHN  A.   SELBIE,   M.A.,   D.D. 


This  great  work  has  taker)  its  place,  as  'The  Times'  says,  as  'the  standard  authority  for 
tiblical  students  of  the  present  generation.'  In  this  country  and  America,  in  the  Colonies,  and 
euen  among  people  of  other  languages  and  of  various  creeds,  it  is  in  constant  and  increasing 
demand. 

The  Quardian  says:  'We  have  no  hesitation  in  recommendinf;  Hastings'  Dictionary  to 
students  of  the  Bible  as  the  best  worls  of  its  kind  which  exists  in  English. 


The  Bookman  says :  '  This  Dictionary  sprang  into  fame  with  its  first  volume, 
reputation  has  been  growing  ever  since.  For  scholarship,  temper,  and  iudcment  en 
we  have  nothing  else  equal  to  it  in  English.' 


,*  Full  Prospectus,  with  Specimen  Pages,  free  on  application. 


Published  Price  per  Volume-  |  ^"  ^^°^^  ^^^ 

*-  In  Half-Morocco    .     34s. 

Complete  Sets  may  also  be  had  iu  other  elegant  Half-Morocco  Bindings  at  the 
Prices  detailed  in  the  Prospectus. 

\'  Those  Prices  are  subject  to  Discount  for  Cash. 


Edinburgh:   T.    &   T.    CLARK,    38   George  Street. 


INDISPENSABLE  FOR  THE  STUDY 


OF   NEW  TESTAMENT  GREEK. 


Dr.  J.  H.   MOULTON'S  GRAMMAR. 

A  Grammar  of  New  Testament  Greek.  By  James  Hope  Moulton,  D.Litt. 
Vol.  I.,  The  Prolegomena.  Second  Edition,  with  Corrections  and  Additions. 
8vo,  8s.  net. 

No  other  grammar  takes  adequate  account  of  those  wonderful  discoveries  of  Greek  papyri^ 
which  within  the  last  few  years  have  altered  the  entire  basis  of  the  study  of  New  Testament 
Greek. 

Prin.  Marcus  Dods  in  the  British  Weelcly.- 
has  handled,  his  accuracy  is  amazing.    Of  course 
to  the  understanding  of  New  Testament  Greek.     We  do 
done,  and  it  will  unquestionahly  take  its  place  as  the 


CONCORDANCE  TO  THE  GREEK  TESTAMENT.    MOULTON-GEDEN. 


A  Concordance  to  the  Greek  Testament :  According  to  the  Texts  of  Westcott 

and   Hort,   Tischendorf,    and   the    English    Revisers.      Edited   by  W.    F. 

MouLTOx,    D.D.,   and   A.  S.   Gedex,   M.A.      In    cro^vn  4to  (pp.    1040). 

Second  Edition,  Revised  throughout.     26s.  net ;  or  in  half-morocco,  31s.  6d. 

net. 
*t*  It  will  be  generally  allowed  that  a  new  Concordance  to  the  Greek  Testament  is  much  needed 
in  the  interests  of  sacred  scholarship.  This  work  adopts  a  new  principle,  and  aims  at  prouiding 
a  full  and  complete  Concordance  to  the  text  of  the  Greek  Testament  as  it  is  set  forth  in  the 
editions  of  Westcott  and  Hort,  Tischendorf  (8th),  and  the  English  Reuisers.  The  first-named 
has  throughout  been  taken  as  the  standard,  and  the  marginal  readings  have  been  included.  Thus 
the  student  with  any  one  of  these  three  editions  in  his  hands  will  find  himself  in  possession  of  a 
complete  Concordance  to  the  actual  text  on  which  he  is  engaged.  While  the  method  employed,  it 
may  fairly  be  claimed,  precludes  the  omission  of  any  word  or  phrase  which,  by  even  a  remote 
probability,  might  be  regarded  as  forming  part  of  the  true  text  of  the  New  Testament,  on  the 
other  hand,  passages  disappear  as  to  the  spuriousness  of  which  there  is  practical  unanimity 
among  scholars. 

Professor  W.  SANDAY,  D.D..  LL.D..  Oxford,  writes:  -There  can  be  no  question  as  to  the 
value  of  the  new  "Concordance.''  It  is  the  only  scientific  Concordance  to  the  Greek  Testament, 
and  the  only  one  that  can  be  safely  used  for  scientific  purposes. ' 

'  It  would  be  difficult  to  overpraise  this  invaluable  addition  to  biblical  study.  .  .  .  For  all 
English  students  of  the  Greek  Testament  this  great  work  is  indispensable.'— BmTisB  Weekly. 
Prospectus,  with  Specimen  Page,  free  on  application. 


GRIMM'S   LEXICON. 


Greek -English  Lexicon  of  the  New  Testament,  being  Grimm's  Wilke's 
Clavis  Novi  Testamenti.  Translated,  Revised,  and  Enlarged  by  Professor 
Joseph  Henry  Th.a.yer,  D.D.,  H.irvard  University.  Fourth  Edition, 
demy  4to,  363. 


-Professor  W.  Sanbat,  D.D., 


CREMER'S   LEXICON. 

Biblico-Theological  Lexicon  of  New  Testament  Greek.  By  Professor 
Hkrmann  Ckemer,  D.D.  Translated  by  W.  Urwick,  M.A.  In  demy  4to, 
Fourth  Edition,  with  Sui'I'I.ement,  38s. 

This  Lexicon  deals  with  words  whose  meaning  in  the  Classics  is  modified  or  changed  in 
Scripture,  words  which  have  become  the  bases  and  watchwords  of  Christian  theology,  tracing  their 
history  in  their  transference  from  the  Classics  into  the  LXX,  and  from  the  LXX  into  the  New 
Testament,  and  the  gradual  deepening  and  elevation  of  their  meaning  till  they  reach  the  fulness 
of  New  Testament  thought. 

'  It  gives  with  care  and  thoroufthness  a  complete  history,  as  far  as  it  goes,  of  each  word  and 
phrase  that  it  deals  with.  ...  Dr.  Cremer's  explanations  are  most  lucidly  set  oat.'— Guardian. 


Edinburgh:  T.    &   T.    CLARK,    38   George   Street. 


BOOKS  OF  RECOGNISED  IMPORTANCE 

FOR  THE  STUDY  OF  THE  GOSPELS. 

Outlines  of  the  Life  of  Christ.     By  Professor  W.  Sanday,  D.D.,  LL.D.,  Litt.D., 

Canon  of  Christ  Church,  Oxford.     Now  ready,  Second  Edition,  with  new  and 

important  Appendix.     Post  8vo,  5s.  net. 

Although  this  book  iSy  in  the  main,  a  reprint  of  Dr.   Sunday's  wetl-known  article,    'Jesus 

Christ,'  in  Dr.  Hastings'  Xiblc  EJictionarv,  the  Author  has  u/orlied  carefully  oner  the  material, 

and  has  broken  up  the  text  into  Chapters  and  Sections.    An  important  new  Map  of  Palestine  is 

added. 

'The  moat  unconventional  and  illuminating  of  all  extant  works  of  the  kind.  .  .  .  The  best 
modern  work  on  the  life  of  our  Lord.'— Methodist  Times. 

The  Gospel  History  and  its  Transmission.     By  Prof.  F.  Crawford  Buekitt 
M.A.,  D.D.,  Cambridge.     Post  8vo,  6s.  net. 

'  The  most  satisfactory  treatment  of  the  subject  in  English.    It  is  an  unusually  full  book,  an 

excellent  specimen  of  well-informed,  thoughtful,  and  moderate  English  criticism.' — British  Weekly. 

The  Words  of  Jesus  ;  Considered  in  tlie  Light  of  Post-Biblical  Jewish  Writings 

and  the  Aramaic  Language.     By  Professor  G.  Dalman.     Authorised  English 

Translation  by  Prof.  D.  M.  Kay,  St.  Andrews.     Post  8to,  7s.  6d.  net. 

'  The  most  critical  and  scientific  examination  of  the  leading  conceptions  of  the  Gospels  that 
has  yet  appeared.' — Prof.  W.  Sanday,  LL.D. 

'He  who  does  not  know  that  Dalman  is  necessary,  does  not  know  much  yet  about  the  study  of 
the  New  Testament  in  Greek.'— Expositori/  Times. 

The  Authority  of  Christ.    By  Rev.  David  "W.  Forrest,  D.  D.  ,  Edinburgh,  Author 
of  '  The  Christ  of  History  and  of  Experience.'     Third  Edition.     Post  8vo,  6s. 

While  all  Christians  acknowledge  the  Authority  of  Christ  as  final,  there  is  a  wide  diversity 
of  opinion  with  reference  to  what  it  really  covers  and  the  right  method  of  construing  it.  The 
purpose  of  this  booh  is  to  inquire  as  to  the  sphere  in  which  Christ's  Authority  operates  and 
as  to  its  character  within  that  sphere. 

'  A  permanent  addition  to  theological  science,  competent  in  its  knowledge,  thorough  in  its 
reasoning,  lucid  in  its  style,  and  everywhere  inspired  by  the  highest  and  most  spiritual  ideals.'— 
Rev.  Jons  Watson,  D.D'. 

The  Christ  of  History  and  of  Experience.     By  Rev.  David  W.  Forrest, 

D.D.,  Edinburgh.     Fifth  Edition.     Post  8vo,  6s. 

*  This  book  has  now  won  for  itself  the  position  of  a  standard  work  on  a  subject  which  recent 
critical  and  theological  investigations  have  rendered  of  the  first  importance. ' — Examiner. 

The  Fourth  Gospel.     Its  Purpose  and  Theology.     By  Rev.  Ernest  F.  Scott, 
B.A.,  Prestwick.     Demy  8vo,  6s.  net. 
'  The  most  elaborate  and  thorough-going  treatment  of  the  whole  theology  of  the  Fourth  Gospel 
that  has  yet  appeared  in  English.     He  has  put  the  theological  world  under  a  debt  of  gratitude  to 
him  for  supplying  the  best  solution  of  the  problems  of  the  Fourth  Gospel.' — Glasgow  Herald. 

Jesus  Christ  the  Son  of  God.  By  W.  M.  Maogregor,  D.D.,  Edinburgh. 
Post  8vo,  4s.  6d.  net. 
'Dr.  Macgregor's  book  we  have  read  with  great  delight.  It  is  rich,  ripe,  full,  wise,  and 
thoughtful.  .  .  .  We  doubt  whether  any  first  book  of  sermons  published  during  the  last  ten  years 
will  receive  a  greater  welcome  than  this  mellow,  meditative,  and  yet  inspiring  record  of  devout 
and  faithful  thought.'— i>r(7t.s7t  Weekly. 

The   Trial   of  Jesus   Christ;   A   Legal  Monograph.      By  A.   Taylor  Innes, 
LL.D.,  Advocate.     Second  Edition.     Post  8vo,   2s.  6d. 
This  twofold  transaction,  the  most  famous  occasion  on  which  two  great  systems  of  law,  the 
Hebrew  and  the  /toman,  crossed  each  other,  is  described  as  thus  presenting  "probably  the  most 
interesting  isolated  problem  in  historical  Jurisprudence.' 

*  Mr.  Innes  gives  what,  to  most  of  his  readers,  will  be  wholly  new  light  and  fresh  thoughts.  .  .  . 
This  volume  is  a  striking  example  of  the  value  of  the  critical  examination  of  historical  problems 
by  an  accomplished  lawyer. '—Times. 

The  Times  of  Christ.     By  Lewis  A.  Muirhead,  D.D.     With  Map.     New  and 
Revised  Edition.     Cr.  8vo,  2s. 
'  One  of  the  very  best  of  the  handbooks  for  Bible  classes — and  that  is  saying  a  great  deal.    There 
almost  every  page  of  exact  and  ample  scholarshii 


!  alway 
book. ' — .Sunday  School  Chron 

The  Sacraments  in  the  New  Testament.     By  Rev.   J.   C.  Lambert,   D.D. 

8vo,  10s.  6d. 
'  Dr.  Lambert  has  furnished  a  welcome  guide  through  the  mazes  of  modern  discussion.     In 
dealing  with  negative  critics,  with  exegetical  problems,  and  with  biblical  theology,  he  is  admirably 
sane  and  hopeful.     His  lectures  are  very  fine  historical  studies,  and  they  will  have  to  be  kept  in 
view  by  future  students.'— The  late  Priiicipal  Eainy  in  the  Expository  Times. 
St.  Mark's  Gospel.     Bv  Professor  Ezra  P.  Gould,  D.D.,  Philadelphia.     Post 

8vo(375pp.),  10s.  6d.     (International  Critical  Commentary.) 

The  Baptist  Magazine  says :   '  As  luminously  suggestive  as  it   is   concise  and  sober.     The 
commentary  proper  is  thoughtful,  judicious,  and  erudite— the  work  of  a  master  in  hermeneutics.' 


Edinburgh:   T.    &  T.    CLARK,   38  George  Street. 


BOOKS  OF  RECOGNISED  IMPORTANCE 

FOR  THE   STUDY  OF  THE   GOSPELS. 

St.  Luke's  Gospel.     By  Rev.  Alfred  Plummf.r,  D.D.     Fourth  Edition.     Post 
8vo  (678  pp.),  12s.     (Intersatioxal  Critical  Commentary.) 

The  Guardian  says  :  '  We  feel  heartily  that  the  book  will  bring  credit  to  English  scholarship, 
and  that  in  its  carefulness,  its  sobriety  of  tone,  its  thouehtfulness.  its  reverence,  it  will  contribute 
to  a  stronger  faith  in  the  essential  trustworthiness  of  the  gospel  record.' 

The   Spirit  and  the   Incarnation ;    In   tlie   Light  of  Scripture,    Science,    and 

Practical  Need.     By  Rev.  W.  L.  Walker.     Second  Edition,  Revised  and 

Reset.     Demy  8vo,  9s. 
In  a  leading  article,  headed  'A  GREAT  BOOK."  in  the  British  Weekly,  Principal  Marcus 
DODS  writes:  'It  may   be  questioned  whether  in  recent  years  there  has  appeared,  at  home  or 
abroad,  any  theological  work  more  desen'ing  of  careful  study.    He  who  intelligently  reads  it 
once  will  inevitably  read  it  again  and  again." 
The  Cross  and  the  Kingdom,  as  Viewed  by  Christ  Himself  and  in  the  Light 

of  Evolution.     By  Rev.  W.  L.  Walker,  Author  of  'The  Spirit  and  the 

Incarnation.'     8vo,  9s. 
'  We  desire  to  speak  with  admiration  of  the  good  work  done  in  this  book.     It  is  worthy  to  stand 
beside  his  former  treatise.    Taking  both  together,  they  form  a  magnificent  contribution  to  the 
theological  literature  of  the  age.' — Principal  Iveracu  in  the  Expository  Ti»l€S. 

The  Teaching  of  Jesus  in  its   Present  Appeal      By  Rev.  W.  L.  Walkee. 
New  Edition,  Revised  and  Reset.     Crown  Svo,  2s.  6(1.  net. 

'  Mr.  Walker  makes  here  a  further  valuable,  if  unpretentious,  contribution  to  New  Testament 
studv.    The  w-ork  altogether  should  form  an  excellent  handbook  on  its  subject  for  teachers  and 
preachers.'— C/trwdan  World. 
The  Teaching  of  Jesus.     By  Prof.  H.  H.  Wendt,  D.D.     Two  Vols.  Svo,  21s. 

'  Dr.  Wendt's  work  is  of  the  utmost  importance  for  the  study  of  the  Gospels,  both  with  regard 
to  the  origin  of  them  and  to  their  doctrinal  contents.  ...  No  greater  contribution  to  the  study  of 
biblical  theology  has  been  made  in  our  time.  A  brilliant  and  satisfactory  exposition  of  the  teaching 
of  Christ.'— Prmcipal  J.  Iveracii,  D.D.,  in  the  Expositor. 

The  Life  of  our  Lord  upon  the  Earth ;  Considered  in  its  Historical,  Chrono- 
logical, and  Geographical  Relations,     By  SAMrEL  J.  Andrews.     New  and 
Revised  Edition  (the  only  Authorised  Edition  in  this  Country).     Svo,  9s. 
*.'  This  book  has  long  been  an  acknowledged  authority  with  scholars  and  with  the  general 
public.    In  order  to  retain  for  it  the  rank  it  has  gained,  the  author  has  undertaken  a  complete 
reuision,  having  almost  entirely  rewritten  the  work  in  the  light  of  recent  researches. 

'  As  a  teachers'  apparatus,  I  would  recommend — (1)  A  ndrew^  Life  of  our  Lord,  an  unpretenti< 


,  D.D. 


details  of  1 


Ufe  1 


treated  with 


The  Life  of  Jesus  Christ.        By  Professor  J.  Stalker,  D.D.     Cr.  Svo,  Is.  6d. ; 
Large  Type  Edition,  3s.  6d. 
■  Even  with  all  our  modern  works  on  the  exhaustless  theme,  from  Neander  to  Farrar  and 
Geikie,  there  is  none  which  occupies  the  ground  of  Dr.  Stalker's.  .  .  .  We  question  whether  any 
one  popular  work  so  impressively  represents  Jesus  to  the  nxxjiA.'— Christian. 

The   Christian    Doctrine   of   the    Lord's    Supper.      By    Eev.    Eobekt    M. 

Adamson,  M.A.     Po.'it  8vo,  4s   6d.  net. 
'A  scholarlv,  large  minded,  and  trustworthy  statement  of  a  great  religious  and  Christian 
theme.'— CArisfion  World. 

The  Sinlessness  of  Jesus.     An  Evidence  for  Christianity.     By  Carl  Ullmaxn, 
D.D.     Crown  Svo,  5s. 
Dean  Farrar,  in  his  Life  of  Christ,  says :  '  Ullmann  has  studied  the  sinlessness  of  Christ  more 
profoundly,  and  written  upon  it  more  beautifully,  than  any  other  theologian.' 

By  the  late  Professor  A.  B.  BRUCE,  D.D. 

The  Training  of  the  Tvyelve ;  or.  Exposition  of  Passages  in  the  Gospels 
e.xliibiting  the  Twelve  Disciples  of  Jesus  under  Discipline  for  the  Apostleship. 
Svo,  10s  6d. 

charm  either  for  the  preacher  or  for  the  ordinary  Christian 


'  A  volume  which  can  never  lose 
reader.'— toHdoii  Quarterly  Sevieu;. 

The  Humiliation  of  Christ, 

10s.  6d. 
"We  have  not  for  a  long  time  r 


its  Physical,  Ethical,  and  Official  Aspects.     Sv 


,  long  time  met  with  a  work  so  fresh  and  suggestive  as  this  of  Professor 
Bruce.  .  .  .  We  do  not  know  where  to  look  at  our  English  Universities  for  a  treatise  so  calm, 
logical,  and  scholsii]y.'— English  Independent. 

The  Kingdom    of   God ;    or,    Christ's  Teaching  according  to  the  Synoptical 
Gospels.     Post  Svo,  73.  6d. 
'To  Dr.  Bruce  belongs  the  honour  of  giving  to  English.speaking  Christians  the  first  really 
scientific  treatment  of  this  transcendent  theme  .  .  .  his  book  is  the  best  monograph  on  the 
subject  in  existence.'— Prof.  Jamks  Stalker,  D.D.,  in  the  British  Weekly. 


EoiNBrRGH:  T.    &  T.    CLARK,   38  George  Street. 


"no^ 


.^W1 


%130NVS01^^       %JHAIN 


i; 


vFCAl 


University  of  California  Libraiy 
Los  Angeles 

This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


Cli 


M  r-dlFO/;'.; 


t,^       ^lOSAKCElfj-^ 


3r         ^'^tllBRARYO/;^ 


^^WE^JHlVfR% 

iv 


^aojnvj 


iunrs 


^Nj.ll!BRARYf) 


Mil  (.i.i.Lnj//^ 


■■iiiSii 

°     000  129  802     5 


^lOSANCflfj>  ^vStlIBRARY(9/^      ^tllBRARYr;, 

o 


I  iffij  iS)i  i^!  !©-■ 

^1  iMS)ii\©l  i!=^..,_  .,        IVf^ 


<i 


%:!1MN'11\'N  ^i9A8Vaail-^^         ^OAHVaail-^^'^  <ril3DWS01^         "^/iW 

AWEUmVERi'/^        ^,,^;lOSANCElfx>^  ^^^l•LIBRARYQ<■^       ^IIIBRARYO^^  \\^E  UNIVERS/a         .^^ 


1 1  I^Hl    l-^l 


A\\EIINIVER%         vjclOSANCflfx^. 

..  .^-..^  ,^ji  .^-..  ^-. 

jO-V'        ^iOJIlVDJO'^  %13WS01^       %)l3AINfl]\\V^         %0JI1V1 


'^JIJONVSOI^         '^/S!Ji,MNfi.3i\V'  %0JnV3JO^       %0H 


HI 


^sM-UBRIRYO/-^       ^^HIBRARYOx,  ,^WEUNIVt 

ifVti  ijuf^i  ijuiTl  i»^: 


